Archive of Our Own

Another joint training, one Narumi would rather do just about anything to get out of. The Third Division taking up space on his own turf, acting like they own the place—it’s so god damn annoying. The lowest of the low in his opinion, file and rank officers that he knows wouldn’t last very long in this field of work. They never do—at some point Narumi has grown some tolerance to it, desensitized if you will. It’s a shame, an occasional waste of talent for those who ended up in the wrong place at the wrong time, those with poor cards dealt to them. Perhaps that’s why the Third Division came to the First to train, to see the best of the best in their own domain, the crème de la crème of the JAKDF.

He hates even looking at the Third Division—the helplessness of their movements, the novice officers they fill their ranks with to occupy space.

All except one—sometimes. Debatable. A Vice Captain whom Narumi has had his eyes set on from the moment they met, from the first joint training he got to attend with the Third Division. Years ago, but still, the memory is etched in his thoughts and only comes to the surface in the middle of the night when he lets himself reminisce, or when he finds himself thinking of a wielder of twin blades on a battlefield.

Hoshina, Hoshina, Hoshina. Vice Captain Hoshina Soshiro, all the strength Narumi could ever want, everything he’s tried but failed to get.

“Your movements are slow today, Captain Narumi,” Hoshina says, tilting his head to the side with a sly smile as he takes a step back, assessing his next move on the sparring mat. “I’m getting bored here—may need a stronger opponent.”

Smug bastard. Beautiful, stupid motherfucker. It’s all the same.

Hoshina, with his sharp tongue and quick retorts. His intolerance for the First Division’s Captain, though Narumi senses most of it is for show. The fangs that peek out from the edge of his smile, tempting even when they carry words coated with poison that Narumi only craves another dose of.

He’s never been so consumed with desire in his life. He is everything. Hoshina Soshiro is everything, and Narumi knew it from the moment he decided to use his Numbers Weapon against him for the first time.

Then the next.

And the next.

Who is Narumi Gen, but idiotically bold?

He dodges Hoshina’s next hit, aimed at his neck but with Kaiju no. 1’s weapon, Narumi is always a step ahead. Sparring with Hoshina is child’s play—never enough stimulation if you were to only consider strengthening his battle skills, always too much if you measure the aching throb inside him when Hoshina’s touch burns into Narumi’s skin. “Should we pick up the pace? Change the tempo, Vice Captain?” Narumi all but growls, taking hold of Hoshina’s wrists and pinning them behind him.

Oh how he loves the fire that burns through his irises as Hoshina tries to glare back at him, how he hates it at the same time. Hoshina, Hoshina, Hoshina Soshiro. The Vice Captain whom Narumi wanted for himself.

Hoshina swallows hard, in what Narumi can’t tell the difference between desire and fear. He deserves both, craves it even. For the Vice Captain to want him so badly he aches, for the desire to burn in his chest and consume him when the night falls and the only thing to console him is the four walls of his barren room. He wants Hoshina to want him in every way Narumi has ever thought of— every single one. He wants him to want him so badly, he’s afraid Narumi will never reciprocate. To lie awake in the middle of the night wondering if he crosses Narumi’s mind as often as Hoshina runs circles through his, wishing for the desire of a burning touch to be satiated.

Narumi’s fingers slip from Hoshina’s wrists, trailing down the other side of his hands. Warm, smooth, and just enough to shake the Vice Captain’s focus as he pulls away. Just for a moment, but that’s all Narumi needs to step into Hoshina’s space and take him down, landing on the training mat with a muted thud . “Come on, that was too easy,” he says, a smile ripping across the corners of his lips. “Give me something better to work with, I’m getting bored.”

Hoshina’s eyes dart from Narumi’s mouth back to his crazed, bloodlust gaze. Yes, it’s exactly what Narumi wants from him, every ounce of his attention that Narumi failed to claim for his own so many years before. But now, Hoshina’s eyes are on him, all on him, just as they should have been from the beginning.

“Are we still talking about sparring?” Hoshina asks, smug as always but with a hint of something else in his voice, something Narumi can’t quite place. Hesitation? No. Maybe. Perhaps the desire for Narumi to say no.

Narumi lifts himself off the Vice Captain, not subjecting them to an audience once the other members of their divisions come in to train. Any minute now they should be up and ready, and Narumi isn’t one to put how pathetically he feels the need to rip this man apart on display for everyone else to see. “I keep a spare key to my room underneath the mat. Come see for yourself whether I’m still talking about sparring,” he says, his lips dangerously close to Hoshina’s ear before he pulls away.

It’s indecent and unprofessional on all levels that matter in this field of work, but Narumi can hardly keep his hands to himself, no less his cock from becoming an aching problem in his uniform. Hoshina, Hoshina, Hoshina— some days the Vice Captain is all he can think about and it drives him mad.

God, he hates him, but he can’t get enough. The thrill of a good chase—someone who doesn’t want you but you still wish and hope and pray to whatever will listen that someday they might. It’s a drug, worse than anything that ever could have tempted him in the sorry life he lived outside of the Defense Force. No one has ever wanted him, and Narumi has never let himself want anything in return.

But oh how sometimes it feels like Hoshina might, even when he’s proved that he doesn’t.

He might.

If Narumi is stupid enough to believe it, maybe the burning gaze in his eyes and the lingering touches mean something more—like Hoshina may want him just as much as Narumi, who’s spent the past several years yearning and aching behind the scenes of the First Division, hoping the Third’s Vice Captain might change his mind and join him instead.

So when the daily training ends and everyone has found themselves back in their rooms, in the bunks the lower ranking officers share and the privacy of thin walls, Narumi expects to find the bowl-cut bastard at his door—if not driven by desire then instead by the curiosity of finding out why Narumi has invited him here.

He savors the heat of a scalding shower, much less in comparison to the sensation of Hoshina’s fingertips on his skin. Washed away are any traces of his touch, any scuffs and grime from today’s training. Sore muscles soothed only for their limits to be tested the day after.

A towel wrapped around his waist, examining the scars that line his skin, telling stories of battles he’s long forgotten and allowed to blur as others take their place. They’re hot, Narumi will give himself that. Scars to match, imperfections of the skin—it’s nearly impossible to stop his mind from wandering to the thoughts that a certain Vice Captain may share the same ones.

A knock comes to his door, light and melodic. He steps into his room, the air much cooler than the steam that’s fogged up his private washroom, and waits for the knob to turn.

But it doesn’t.

“Yeah, who is it?” Narumi groans, half-expecting to hear Hasegawa on the other side. Probably here to drill an order Narumi will claim to get to in the morning, or check to see if the Captain has done anything today to keep himself from rotting away.

“Take a guess, Captain.” His voice is smooth like velvet, never butter. Velvet— soft, warm, inviting, with a rigid side to it that sounds like it could tear Narumi apart. A side that gets a rise out of him, one that begs to be shut up with the press of his mouth against his, one he can’t help but probe more words from so he can continue the cycle.

Narumi clicks his tongue behind his teeth. “I told you the key is under the mat.”

“It’s still polite to ask for permission,” Hoshina says from the other side. “Are you going to open the door or not?”

Narumi twists the knob, swinging the door open. Hoshina stands before him, a slight smile tugging at the edge of his mouth, key in hand. “What are you, a fucking vampire?” Narumi asks, taking the key out of his hand. “Was the key not explicit permission?”

Hoshina steps forward, shutting the door behind him. Narumi can hardly move, allowing Hoshina two steps too close, enough to feel the rumble in his chest as the Vice Captain laughs to himself. “You know, keeping a key under the mat is just asking for some type of security breach around here.” His eyes wander, scanning the room from floor to ceiling, the shelves Narumi has stacked with boxes and dusted figures. Collections he rarely touches but always looks at, at the very least. “Though I’m not sure if there’s anything of value here.”

“The Gundam figures are in mint condition,” Narumi says.

“God, you are childish.”

“Hardly,” he smiles. “Let it be known that no one in my division would ever dare. I’ve earned their respect.”

“I can’t imagine how,” Hoshina challenges him, as he always does, but Narumi still catches the way he swallows hard as his eyes meet him again. How they dart from his chest to his arms and back to his eyes, the struggle to keep his line of vision away from everything that tempts the man. “Why did you invite me here, Captain Narumi?”

Narumi leans closer, minimizing the distance. Their noses almost brush, but he stops. Close enough to let Hoshina do the rest, or to intimidate him instead—whichever happens first. “Why did you show up?” He asks, his voice low.

“It just seemed like,” Hoshina starts, but pauses, pursing his lips. Like you’ve been waiting for this. Like there are words left unsaid. Like something burns between us that I can’t put out. Hoshina takes a small step back, but there’s hardly enough room for it. He steadies his back against the door, his eyes betraying him and catching sight of Narumi’s bare skin again. “Like you wanted something, and it might be important. Captain stuff, maybe.”

“Why would my Captain stuff concern you, Vice Captain?” Narumi asks, caging Hoshina in between his arms. He watches the way Hoshina’s eyes travel down their length, from his shoulders, down his biceps, past his elbows and his forearms. “Last time I checked, you denied my request to join my division. You answer to Ashiro, not me.”

Another gulp, a drop of sweat down the Vice Captain’s temple. “That’s right,” Hoshina says softly, like he’s lost, but this isn’t a competition at all. No, it’s not a rivalry between divisions or a battle to see whose strength comes out on top, not like it usually is between them. 

Hoshina isn’t as cool-mannered as he makes himself out to be, and Narumi pushes. His eyes flash pink, fuschia glowing off Hoshina’s skin as the Captain scans him from head to toe. Narumi snickers to himself, the way he can see Hoshina’s heart working faster to pump blood through his veins, how it rushes below his abdomen.

“Don’t use your Numbers Weapon on me,” Hoshina says, fascinated with the fluorescence.

But Narumi pushes, and pushes, and pushes to see how far he can get before Hoshina draws the line. Pushes for a sliver of heated satisfaction to pool in his chest to make up for the years Narumi has spent groveling over rejection and humiliation and not being enough for the gem of the Hoshina family. “It’s the only way I can get the truth out of you,” Narumi says. “It seemed like you wanted something earlier, and now I can see I was right.”

“So if you have your answer, are you going to do something about it?”

“I don’t know if I should. Or if I should leave you reeling like you’ve left me for the past few years.”

“So you invited me over to talk,” Hoshina says, breathing out something between a sigh and a scoff. He shakes his head slightly, disbelief washing over his eyes. 

“Oh no, I’d rather do just about anything else with you than talk,” Narumi tells him, inching closer. “But it’s your call, Vice Captain. You’ve already rejected me once, so I’m not starting something you can’t finish. I know how badly you want me to fuck you right now, and I need to hear you say it.”

With a roll of his eyes, Hoshina leans forward to whisper in Narumi’s ear. His lips brush against his lobe, the cool feeling of hushed words and spearmint toothpaste. “Do you know why I rejected your offer to join the First Division?” He asks, his hands roaming down Narumi’s abdomen. He traces the contours of his muscles, the dips and curves and scars and all. “I chose the Third Division to stay away from you, because had I said yes, I don’t think I would have been able to control myself for long.”

“Out with it then,” Narumi presses. “Tell me or I’m not touching you.”

“You’re no fair,” Hoshina says. “Don’t act like I can’t feel the way your touch lingers during training.”

“But this isn’t training.” Despite the fact that the Vice Captain is right, and that pulling away always leaves the bitter taste of dissatisfaction on Narumi’s tongue.

“You and I will stand here going in circles, and what’s the fun in that?”

A low chuckle rumbles in Narumi’s throat, leaning in closer, almost capturing his lips but stopping right before he does. It’s quite fun, actually. The most he’s had in a long time, with the Vice Captain no less. “I’m having a great time,” Narumi says. “Watching you squirm brings me more joy than you’d ever know. Tell me, how did it feel all these years pretending like you didn’t want me?”

Hoshina’s fist grips the towel at Narumi’s waist, and it’s all the confirmation he needs to know he’s won. If only he’d changed into fresh clothes after his shower to feel the Vice Captain tug him closer by the collar, tear his shirt right from his skin. But the towel will do. “I never pretended,” Hoshina says, his jaw clenched as tightly as his fist. “Never once.”

“Bullshit.”

“I didn’t,” he swears. “I never pretended. It’s not my fault you didn’t see it.”

Narumi scoffs to himself, a petty half-smirk taking over. Didn’t see what? The way you constantly one-upped me and rubbed it in my face? How I was always second-best, how the First Division was merely a shadow of the Third and you always let me know? Every tease and taunt and stupid, shit-faced grin and—

Oh.

“I’m not convinced,” Narumi says with a click of his tongue, but Hoshina must see right through his bullshit.

“Fine, then I suppose I should keep shamelessly flirting with you on the sparring mat. Maybe one day you’ll take the hint,” Hoshina says. His hand remains on the towel, his fingers gripped at the ledger seam, just waiting for his cue, and Narumi’s not sure how much longer he can hold out for. Patiently, shamelessly, as he said. “I have to give it to you, Narumi. For a Captain, you’re not very perceptive.”

“Oh, don’t start,” Narumi says, losing. Losing every ounce of self control he thought he had, the game he thought he was playing, and winning.

With Hoshina, he’s always been at a loss. A loss for words as to why he let the Vice Captain of another division consume so much of him when he could never have him at all. A loss for a reason as to why Hoshina never chose him back—why Narumi hadn’t been enough. Lost for what made Captain Ashiro so much more appealing. Lost when word came out that Hoshina would be her second in command, and Narumi had to act like it didn’t tear him up inside. The years he tried to hate Hoshina Soshiro but chose to toy with him instead. Because if Narumi had to grovel over such a loss, so would Hoshina.

And now, it’s thrown back in his face in the form of pretty eyes fluttering shut and a hand finding his bare waist. A mouth too impatient to ease into anything slowly, slipping his tongue through parted lips. His hand cups the back of Hoshina’s head to pull him closer as if to breathe him in. As if what he has is not enough, like Narumi needs more and more, like the first taste can’t satisfy the hunger he’s had brewing in himself for years.

Hoshina tastes like defeat and victory all in one. Slightly sweet, cool against his tongue. Narumi presses closer until nothing but Hoshina’s body stands between him and the door, pressed firmly against the hollow metal. Still not close enough—Narumi trails his free hand over Hoshina’s hip, down to grip his thigh and hoist his hand around it. He lifts him with one arm, keeping him steady with the other behind Hoshina’s neck, pressing his back straight against the cool surface behind him as Hoshina wraps his legs around the Captain. This is more like it—closer, warmer, a better angle to grind himself against the Vice Captain until he whines and whimpers and begs to be taken just as he’s dreamt of for years. Like all those nights he’s fantasized about it, all the nights Hoshina must have done the same from a distance. The nights he found his hand reaching to touch himself in every way he wished was him instead, the silent pleads and shameless pants of his name.

Narumi lost this game, and he can’t get himself to care. Maybe later, when Hoshina decides to rub this in his face like everything else, how Hoshina will forever be the one who won this round, how he stood strong and didn’t succumb to the pressure of desire first. How Narumi’s weaknesses will always prevail first, and this time, to hell with all of it.

“You really want this, bowl cut?” Narumi asks, plucking away at the buttons of Hoshina’s uniform with one hand. Sloppy and careless, he wouldn’t be surprised if one were to pop off.

“Surprised you’re still asking such dumb questions.”

“You need to say yes or no, or else I’ll stop touching you.”

“Somehow, I doubt that,” Hoshina says. But when Narumi pulls away in response, just enough to send the Vice Captain grasping for something that left too soon, he gives in. “Yes, there. Is that what you wanted?”

“I want more than that, but it’ll do,” Narumi says, taking Hoshina’s bottom lip into his mouth, sucking and biting down.

“Tell me, what is it that you want?”

“You ask stupid questions.”

“Enlighten me.”

Narumi strips the rest of Hoshina’s top layer off, leaving the skin-tight undershirt behind. Damn the Defense Force uniforms—too many layers to tear off. But he can’t complain much, not when he sees the dips in Hoshina’s muscles from beneath the fabric, how slim he looks until the layers are stripped, how Narumi imagines his bare skin must feel.

His hand roams up his abdomen and down again, right past his navel and to his waistband. He stops, not yet, just to tease. “Hm, what do I want?” He says in a low voice, his hands traveling up again, grazing over his chest. Narumi would be lying if he says he’s never considered how Hoshina’s chest would feel within his hands, how he longs to touch and grab and worship. “ You, right here, against the wall, the door, I don’t really care.”

Narumi latches onto Hoshina’s neck, sinking his teeth in and grazing his tongue across to soothe it once Hoshina seethes to himself. But this pain is not enough to stop him from wanting more, for the Captain to mark his skin with bruises the same color as that hideous numbers suit Hoshina wears, one Narumi wishes he could rip off him every time he sees him train in it. Hoshina angles himself to widen Narumi’s reach, to give him access to the softest parts of his neck, to every inch of his skin that Narumi can only wish to taste and kiss and run his hands along at the same time.

Hoshina reaches for the bottom of his shirt, pulling it over his shoulders and his head much swifter than Narumi would have if he had gotten to it first. God, he couldn’t even think of it before the shirt came off, so preoccupied with the taste of his skin, his scent after a shower. The notes of sea salt air and oak moss, the hint of cedarwood that he only catches if he’s close enough. How it’s driven him out of his mind for years, how keeping to himself in the First Division has probably kept him from fully losing it. And for that reason, he supposes he can’t blame Hoshina for staying away like he has.

The Vice Captain is nearly impossible to keep away from. Narumi’s hands gravitate towards his skin. He kisses down his collarbones, inching his way to Hoshina’s chest where he knows he’ll take his time. He arches his back, letting Narumi’s mouth have his way with him. Hoshina angles his hips forward, dragging himself along Narumi and drawing out a ragged breath. He grabs the sides of Narumi’s face, pulling him into a kiss that nearly takes the Captain’s ability to breathe.

Hoshina Soshiro, Vice Captain of the Third Division, Narumi’s greatest prize to be won. So long has he groveled with the fact that he can’t have him, and now here he is, kissing him with a type of slow intensity that makes Narumi want nothing but to tear him to shreds. If not from years of built up desire then to make up for the misery of letting it go unnoticed. “Tell me what you want to do,” Hoshina says into the kiss, open-mouthed and breathing heavily.

Everything, Narumi can hardly decide. How satisfying it would be to watch the man he’s kept at a distance fall to his knees and take him whole, but Narumi can hardly keep his own mouth off him. “I want to take my time with you,” he says, nipping at his lower lip. 

Hoshina looks like he wants to protest—admit that he’s more impatient than he ever lets off, but Narumi readjusts him in his arms, palming at the plush behind his thighs. Right under his ass, right where muscle meets soft skin, relaxed at this angle and melting into Narumi’s fingertips.

Hands gather in his hair, damp and drying in its usual mop. They tug at the roots, gently, but with enough force to ask for more without having to say it out loud. Narumi growls into his skin, his mouth traveling down his neck to his shoulder.

He spreads Hoshina’s legs a little wider, pressing his body firmer against him, grinding himself up, and down, achingly slow. A hushed gasp from the Vice Captain and a tight grip on the back of Narumi’s neck bring a grin to the Captain’s lips, so satisfying to see glimpses of how vulnerable Hoshina can be if Narumi touches him right. “Don’t worry, I’m not gonna drop you,” Narumi says into his shoulder. “In case you forgot, I’m the strongest for a reason.”

“I believe I have a higher unleashed combat power,” Hoshina says, throwing his head back as Narumi sinks his teeth in. The back of his head smacks into the door and he lets out a small groan, trailing into a mere fragment of the laugh that often rings in Narumi’s ears.

“Idiot, be careful,” Narumi says. By now, it would be useless to pretend he doesn’t care. Not when he’s been painstakingly in love with a Vice Captain too far out of his reach for this long, not that he can get himself to admit to that part. Want and desire and a need for the feeling of his skin and his mouth and every part of him he’s never been able to touch, sure, but that’s where his confessions will end. “And that’s hardly fair. You only have a higher output with that hideous suit. I’d argue that’s Kaiju no. 10’s combat power, and not your own.”

“What’s wrong with Ten’s suit?” Hoshina asks. “Turn me around so I don’t have to look at you.”

“No, I think I’ll keep you like this,” Narumi says. “So I can look you in the eyes when I say only you can pull off such an ugly suit. And that it’s the only reason you unleash more combat power than I do, without my own weapon.”

“Yeah, yeah. Whatever helps you sleep at night, Captain Narumi,” Hoshina teases. “Which I hope includes thoughts of me.”

Narumi scoffs, gently lowering Hoshina to the ground. How he’d love to keep his body pressed so closely to his, his hands palming so close to his ass, but he has other plans for where his mouth would like to be. “Hah, you wish.”

“I do wish,” Hoshina says. If only he knew all the ways Narumi has thought of him, the midnight fantasies he’ll never tell a soul, how shamefully filthy they are. “Tell me what you think about, where you have me. What you’re doing to me, what I’m doing to you.”

Narumi’s mouth roams down his collarbones, biting down at the tops of his pecs, hardly any give to them to really sink in. A wanton whine only pushes Narumi to go further when he laps quick circles around his nipples, capturing them between his teeth and tugging just enough for the Vice Captain to squirm. “In my fantasies, you don’t talk this much.”

“I doubt that.”

Narumi’s lips move down his abdomen, solid and firm, pressing kisses met with hints of tongue. His hands slide down Hoshina’s sides, wrapping around his waist that welcomes him like his hands are molded just for its shape. Warm, soft and delicate skin. Freshly showered and begging for lips and teeth and tongue. Fuck, how Narumi has waited so long. “Fine,” he says, giving in to Hoshina’s own desires to hear his voice. “Usually I start just like this. Just wanna feel your body and figure out your favorite spots.”

Narumi trails lower, unbuckling Hoshina’s pants and letting them fall to his ankles before the Vice Captain kicks them off. He palms at the fabric, Hoshina’s stiff cock smothered beneath it. Black boxer briefs, tight around his thighs, a spot slightly darker than the rest. Narumi grabs his thighs, gripping them until his nails start to dig into the skin, pressing kisses to his bare hips and trailing lower.

“Other times, I picture you on your knees and blowing me. I like how pretty you look when I’m in your mouth,” Narumi says with a grin ripped across his lips. “Sometimes I imagine you riding me until you forget your name. I think that one’s my favorite.” Finally, Narumi’s voice drops to a whisper as his teeth pull at Hoshina’s waistband. “Ask me how quickly I cum when I think about you like that.”

Hoshina’s thighs start to tremble. He pushes Narumi’s head further, his hands still tangled in his hair. “Stop teasing me,” he says, to which Narumi can only laugh to himself. Rich, coming from him.

“You’re the one who asked.”

“And you’re hardly touching me.”

“Is that what you want?” Narumi asks, pulling down the boxer briefs inch by inch, the final piece he needs. “I love that you want me so badly, wish you would just tell me though.”

Hoshina’s hands push down with more force, until he can feel Narumi’s breath against his cock. “Years, I’ve wanted you for years. You already know that, so there. You happy?”

“I mean what do you want right now?”

“I want you to stop talking and get on with it,” Hoshina says. “Just do it, Narumi. Stop making me wait.”

“You’ve made me wait for years,” Narumi says. “Let me enjoy this.”

Narumi presses kisses down his inner thighs, crossing his knees, lowering himself to bite his calves. His legs, fuck, Hoshina’s legs deserve just as much attention as he gave his chest. Kissing and biting and lapping his tongue in circles. “Want every inch of you to myself,” Narumi says, kissing his way back up. “No one else. Tell me there’s no one else but me.”

So soft, but so demanding, and he doesn’t care. He doesn’t give a damn if the Vice Captain throws this in his face later or uses it against him, if only to finally get a taste of what he wants.

“Just you, Narumi. Only you.”

Game over, and this time, Narumi’s sure he’s won.

He runs his tongue along the underside of Hoshina’s cock, stiff and throbbing for more contact. It fits nicely in his hand, leaking at the tip, just enough for Narumi to spread it in circles with his thumb. His tongue reaches further back, lapping its way back up. Oh, how Hoshina loves it—revels in it, and Narumi hasn’t even taken him fully in his mouth yet.

Pretty Vice Captain, so beautiful when his mouth goes slack and his eyes are half-lidded with lust and something more. So pretty when he moans Narumi’s name as he hollows his cheeks around the tip. “Gen,” Narumi corrects him. “Call me Gen, it’s fine.”

“Soshiro,” the Vice Captain forces his own name, breathy and strained but so gorgeous. Soshiro, Soshiro, Soshiro, the name sounds so sweet coming from his voice.

“Soshiro,” Gen repeats, opening his mouth and allowing Soshiro to rock his hips forward. The secret he’s kept to himself all this time, how he’s snuck glances at the Vice Captain and used the eyes given to him to peek beneath the surface. For this, all for this.

All for the look on Soshiro’s face as he lets himself delve into pleasure, how he lets go, giving himself to Gen. How perfect his body looks from below, the smoothness of his skin against his fingertips, how solid he is after training so hard for so long. How Gen seems to come apart just at the thought of finally having him to himself.

For him, and no one else. No one else wins except for him. That’s the game he likes to play.

Soshiro loses himself. The collective manner of the Vice Captain is completely gone as he rocks his hips back and forth, his fingers tugging at Gen’s roots. His voice wavers in his throat, a high cut-off whine as he reaches as far as he can go and Gen closes his mouth like a vacuum around him, suction between his lips, dragging his tongue down Soshiro’s length slowly.

He has him, he’s his. Right in this moment, Hoshina Soshiro is his, and he has him so close to unraveling, Gen expects to hear his name sung as the Vice Captain reaches the height of his own ecstasy.

“Wait, stop here,” Soshiro says instead, pulling back. His brows furrow closely, a face so cute when he’s trying to hold himself together. “I don’t want to finish yet.”

Gen follows the request, but not without acknowledging the trap Soshiro set for himself. A rookie mistake that Soshiro should have known he walked right into. “Don’t tell me you’re calling it quits after two pumps,” Gen says, biting at Soshiro’s inner thighs. Just hard enough to leave a mark. “Can’t last? What a shame, we were getting to the good part.”

“Has it occurred to you that I’ve been waiting for this just as long as you have?” Soshiro asks. He seethes as Gen bites him harder. “Have I not made that clear by now?”

“Oh you have.” Another bite, but Gen can’t help placing his mouth on a pair of nice thighs. Strong, soft, inner thighs—a pair that could crush his skull if he let them. “But has it occurred to you that I want you to cum? It would do wonders for my ego.”

“Screw your ego.”

“Shit, I’d love it if you did.”

Gen’s smug grin is nothing Soshiro hasn’t seen before, that same instigating smile, all teeth with a hidden challenge behind it—and Gen knows it. He knows he’s memorized the look on his face when he sees Soshiro’s own lips upturn at the corners, a smile that meets his eyes. “Like what you see?” Gen asks him.

“I do like the look of you on your knees for me, yes,” Soshiro says, his own self-satisfied smile lighting up the place. “Sometimes I think of you, just like this. Never thought it would happen though.”

Soshiro sure knows how to say the wrong thing, if only to spite him. “Actually, I’m turning you around now,” Gen says, grabbing the Vice Captain by his hips and turning his back to him. He pushes him closer to the door, Soshiro’s hands pressed against the surface. “Never thought it would happen, yet you never tried. You really piss me off, Hoshina.”

But the touches to his limbs don’t match the bite in his words. Gen trails his hands down Soshiro’s body, up and down his thighs and his calves. “You don’t seem all that mad with your hands on me like that,” Soshiro says.

Gen lifts a leg up, pressing it against the hollow metal. “Okay, when I’ve been waiting this long to touch you, I’d be stupid to pass up my chance.”

Even when he takes his chance, his thoughts go dumb at the sound of Soshiro’s voice when Gen places his mouth at his entrance, swirling his tongue gently. He’ll get his in due time, but for now, the feeling of the plush skin he squeezes in his hands and his tongue doing enough damage to make the man writhe keeps Gen at bay.

He dips his tongue in and slides it out, slowly fucking into Soshiro. Gen knows just how to make him squirm, how to give him just enough to feel good and take it away as quickly as it comes. I don’t want to finish yet, and he’ll make sure of it, if that’s what Soshiro wants. Turn it into a game of sorts—when he feels Soshiro start to tighten around the fingers he’s replaced his tongue with, his heightened voice hitting a different note, the way his knees start to wobble like no amount of strength training could have prepared him for Narumi Gen.

Pulling away from Soshiro, Gen reaches behind him, digging into a pile of toiletries he’s had thrown in a pouch for who knows how long. Moisturizer that he doesn’t use often enough, extra shampoo, lube. With a click of the lid, he moves to coat his fingers until the Vice Captain stops again.

“Hold on,” he says, reaching his own hand back to reach Gen’s.

“What do you need?” Gen asks, more concern in his voice than he meant. Always level-headed and cool, at least that’s what he thinks. Can’t let the Vice Captain see too much too fast. “I can get a condom, if you want that. I’m sure there’s one somewhere around here,” he offers, hoping he does have one, but shit, he knows it’s unlikely… for a few reasons.

“Does that imply you do this often?”

“It actually doesn’t,” Gen says. “Should I go into detail about how my years-long yearning rivalry with you has really been an ailment to my sex life?”

Soshiro’s laugh rumbles in his chest, smooth and fluid, that same laugh Gen has grown accustomed to when he teases him. It’s sweet, even as he tries to muffle it, hiding his face away in the crook of his elbow. “You’re too much,” he says, and Gen has heard it many times before. It’s nothing new.

But coming from Soshiro, it feels like it. “Hah, that’s better than not being enough.”

The laugh trails into nothing but a sharp exhale, but it rings just the same in Gen’s ears. “You’re enough. Always have been.”

“Oh, don’t start getting sappy with me now,” Gen says, his heart swelling, but he can’t let him know that. No, he’d never humiliate himself like that, not when he’s quite literally on his knees. “I was five seconds away from fucking you against this door before you stopped me. And for what? A love confession?”

He expects a witty response, something lined with sarcasm and a smug laugh to go with it. In your dreams, or you wish, even a hell no or absolutely not. But it doesn’t come—nothing does.

Soshiro just doesn’t respond. It’s unlike him, as he always has to get the last word in, much like Gen. The two aren’t so different, and they never have been. Gen considers a snarky response of his own, something like don’t tell me you’re in love with me, or I can’t believe you.

But he sighs, letting a half-smile pull at his lips. “Did you want me to look for a condom? Honestly I don’t think I have any.”

“No, it’s fine!” Soshiro says, a little too eager. He clears his throat, chuckling softly under his breath. “Now I’ve been pulled out of the moment and I don’t want to say it.”

“Oh, a challenge,” Gen says, wrapping his hand around Soshiro’s waist and finding his dick. Slowly he works his hand up and down the shaft, waiting for Soshiro’s eyes to meet him from above. “Come on, tell me Vice Captain. I won’t laugh at you.”

He scoffs. “No amount of sweet-talkin’ will make me believe that.”

“Out with it, Soshiro,” Gen says, noting the little moan that escapes when he hears his name. “You can tell me.”

Soshiro groans, and Gen can’t tell if it’s his own reluctance to speak or if he’s growing closer to climax. For that reason, he stops, even if he whines about it. “I just… thought I could apply the lube.”

Gen can’t help but throw his head back and break out into a laugh. “Really, that was it?”

“You said you wouldn’t laugh at me.”

“And you said you didn’t believe it.”

“Fair enough,” Soshiro says, shrugging. “Yeah, I suppose I did say that.” He turns to face Gen, reaching a hand out to tip his chin up with his fingertips, cool to the touch. “I’ve been waiting to touch you too, and I haven’t been able to yet.”

“That’s why you want to apply the lube.”

“Way to spell it out.”

“Tch, yeah, fine. I don’t see a problem with that,” Gen says, his voice cool and all—though his dick jumps in excitement that he tries not to show on his face. “Touch me all you want, pretty boy.”

“Hm, I’m not sure if I like that one.”

“Do you prefer bowl cut? Maybe if I throw a bastard in there too?”

Soshiro runs a hand through Gen’s hair, pushing it back and out of his face. “My hair is well-kept, and you really need to cut this,” he says, taking a good look at Gen’s eyes now that they’re not shielded by two-toned bangs. “But you’re not too bad yourself, pretty boy,” he says with a wink. Oh, this man can drive him to insanity, in more ways than one. And for the sake of fun and a good time, for finally getting what he wants, Gen will probably let him too.

With another click of the lid, Gen squeezes the lube into Soshiro’s hand, tossing the bottle aside and making his ascent to his feet. His knees crack on the way up, and Soshiro laughs to himself about it, hushed and under his breath. Another snarky comment that doesn’t come, remaining in his head. Something about the weakness of Japan’s strongest, but Soshiro wasn’t the one on his knees this whole time. No, he got to be spoiled while Gen waited, but he’s used to waiting anyway. What’s a little longer, especially if the trade-off is a pretty Vice Captain falling apart in his hands.

Truthfully, playing the waiting game hasn’t been too bad tonight. Gen can’t keep his mouth off him, and with every kiss he latches onto his skin as he works up Soshiro’s build, the anticipation tingles in his bones.

When Soshiro’s hand wraps around him, twisting and coating his dick so he’s slick to the touch, Gen must use every ounce of self-control he has to keep himself from thrusting into Soshiro’s fist, to control the tempo when he’s relinquished it to the Vice Captain. He rests his hands against the door, Soshiro’s head in between flexed forearms and biceps he wishes could be touched.

He presses his mouth against Soshiro’s neck, alternating between soft kisses and suction, tasting him with the tip of his tongue because something about his skin is sweeter than even the delicacies the Defense Force grants Captains.

The feeling of the one he’s spent years groveling over, wanting so desperately, finally touching him while relishing in his own pleasure is more than Gen could have asked for. “Is this what you wanted?” Gen asks, his voice rasping as Soshiro takes his own cock into his hand, sliding it up and down his and Gen’s together. “What you think of when you’re back at your division without me?”

“I think of this when I’m with you,” Soshiro says, angling his chin upward so Gen can kiss his throat.

He makes his way up Soshiro’s throat, up the structure of his jawline, planting kisses much too delicate for the mess that unravels beneath them. One hand reaches below, taking Soshiro’s cock and wrapping around it to stroke him at the same pace the Vice Captain has set. Soshiro shivers, much to Gen’s enjoyment. To watch his body react before his mind does—it’s ecstasy.

Momentarily, his eyes flash with the color of his Numbers Weapon, so quick Soshiro must have missed it, but it tells Gen all he needs to know. “Want me to fuck you now, Vice Captain?”

Before he can answer, Gen’s lips capture him slowly, sliding his tongue across his until they part, just to meet again. Gen takes Soshiro’s hand off his cock, releasing his own hold too, and places it on his waist. Soshiro doesn’t keep it there, sliding it up his body, trailing his bicep and his rounded shoulder, wrapping it around his neck to pull him closer. His other hand cups Gen’s cheek, so sweet, so soft, while he kisses him slow and sloppy and so so perfect.

“Join the First Division,” Gen tells him, and it wasn’t meant to come out so suddenly, and definitely not at a time like this, but he doesn’t care. He never meant to ask again, swallowing the shards of his first rejection and swearing it would be the only one, and he still doesn’t care. Soshiro could say no again, and when Gen eventually asks for the third time, he can continue to deny him and it wouldn’t matter like it did before.

“You know I can’t do that,” Soshiro says, a hint of disappointment in his voice, so slight you wouldn’t catch it unless you know him like Gen does. The change in his voice, the different looks in his eyes, how his smile crooks to one side when he’s trying to hold it back.

“It was worth a try.”

“Does that change this?”

“No,” Gen says, pulling away and taking a moment to lose himself in a violet gaze, a tint of red in Soshiro’s eyes when the light hits them just right. “Now turn around for me.”

“Can’t face me after I rejected you again?” Soshiro teases.

“You’ll never stop rubbing salt in my wounds, will you?” Gen asks.

Soshiro still complies, turning around and bracing himself against the door. Gen presses kisses along his shoulder blades, running a hand up and down Soshiro’s toned back. Scars from combat scattered across it, some lining his muscles, some in random, nearly-critical places. Much like Gen’s own. “So hot,” he whispers without realizing. That should have been kept in his thoughts, but it’s true. Soshiro’s always looked good, from his uniform to that skin-tight training shirt he wears underneath, to the bare skin slick with sweat.

Gen lifts a leg up, holding it against the door, adjusting his hips to align with Soshiro’s entrance. Footsteps lightly stomp down the hall on the other side, laughter he can’t place. Most likely cadets rolling in after dinner or their showers—or just about anything else, like in this case. “Gotta be quiet Soshiro,” Gen says, sliding himself into him. How good it would feel to bottom out, to let himself be consumed by heat and a tight hole, but he maintains some self control.

“Gen,” Soshiro sings his name like his favorite melody. His whispered moans do critical damage to Gen’s sense of self control, wanting nothing more than to watch the man thrash beneath him.

But Gen slowly slips out of him, only to sink in again, and again. He quickens the pace bit by bit, slowing down again when he reaches the spot that makes Soshiro whine. Slowly pressing into him, dragging himself out, and in again.

One hand lifting his leg, the other around his waist as the front of his body presses into Soshiro’s back—heat searing between them that only burns hotter. His lips linger beside Soshiro’s ear, nibbling at the lobe, taking the chance to suck at the skin beneath it. Soshiro lets out a whimper, throwing himself back to press Gen further into him.

Gen takes the hand off Soshiro’s waist and cups it over his mouth. He fucks him harder, sliding deeper into him with every thrust until he has no more to give. “Told ya to be quiet, didn’t I?” Soshiro’s moans vibrate against his palm, and fuck, Gen loves it. He can feel the wild smile stretch across his lips, the satisfaction of watching everything unfold. “Want me to stop?”

Soshiro shakes his head, almost too desperately. Poor Vice Captain, getting pleasure stripped away from him as Gen pulls out. He bites Gen’s fingers, either as consolation or a fuck you, but it’s amusing all the same.

“I have a better idea,” Gen says, pulling Soshiro away from the door and backing them into his bed. He presses his body firmly against his own, almost as if to crush him in his arms, but he can’t get enough. So hot, and all his. Finally his, as if he can be expected to let go.

Gen throws them into the sheets, ravishing Soshiro’s body with sloppy kisses and bites. Never has he had a body so close that he wants to worship like this, to never take his mouth off of, to explore every inch with his tongue. He’s like a man starved for all things that make life thrilling, someone who can’t come down from a high once he’s reached the peak.

He adjusts himself, back pressed against the mattress, and pulls Soshiro on top. From below, he looks even more beautiful than he’s imagined during those late nights when he lets his thoughts wander to Hoshina Soshiro of the Third Division, wondering if he’s ever let the same thoughts plague him when they shouldn’t. “Ride me until you cum,” Gen tells him, holding him by the waist, hovering just above his seat. “And don’t stop until you do.”

Soshiro nods, lowering himself slowly. “Won’t take long,” he says, taking Gen inch by inch. “I’m almost there.”

“Perfect.” He watches as Soshiro bottoms out, his eyes rolling back as he reaches the end. A sly grin pulls at Gen’s lips and he can’t help it. The wait was worth it, perhaps the misery too. He rests his hands behind his head, ready for a show. “Now I can lie back and watch you fuck yourself on my cock.”

His dream, quite literally.

Soshiro lifts himself and drops again, slowly bouncing and finding a rhythm he likes. He drags his hips and grinds, finding a balance between his motions that drops his jaw and sends out a ragged moan.

It’s beautiful, really. How quickly Soshiro comes undone when he’s in charge of setting the pace, when he can draw out every sensation he knows he likes, when the pleasure he chases is up to him to find. Fuck, maybe if Gen asks him now, he’ll agree to join the First Division with him.

But he won’t, not today.

He tightens around him, and this time, Gen will let him. If only to show mercy for not letting him cum yet, or because it feels too good around his own cock, pushing him towards the edge. Gen’s hands shoot to Soshiro’s hips, steadying them so he doesn’t lose his rhythm as he crests. “I got you,” Gen says, throwing his own head back further into the pillows. “Fuck, yeah I got you, Soshiro. Come on, just a little more.”

“Gen, please,” Soshiro begs, his thighs starting to tremble around Gen’s hips.

“You don’t have to ask me to cum,” Gen says, reaching for Soshiro’s cock to help him. He pumps back and forth, feeling it twitch in his grasp. He’s so close, Soshiro looks like he’s about to cry.

It’s explosive, better than Gen’s ever pictured. Warmth spilling onto his skin, his name on the Vice Captain’s tongue, his body pressed so close to his as Soshiro slumps over and writhes against him. Sobs mixed with moans in the crook of his neck, Gen’s arms wrapped around him as he thrusts himself into him from below, chasing his own release.

“That’s it,” Gen says sweetly. One hand brushes up Soshiro’s back, reaching his hair and tangling his fingers in it to cradle his head. “Just like that. You did so well.” Gen’s thrusts become sloppy. So close to the edge, he’s about to slip head-first. “Shit, I love seeing you like this… Soshiro.”

He can feel the pressure in his abdomen, the tingling in his thighs, traveling down to his knees and curling his toes. It’s over for him, the moment before his vision fails him and all he sees are images of the Vice Captain’s face flushed, features strained.

It comes in waves, each one stronger than the last. The first is guided by pictures of Soshiro, so consumed in his own orgasm he could hardly speak. His voice controls the second. Gen and good boy, which he didn’t think he’d like as much as he does, but it only brings on the third and final wave, crashing so violently he loses all function of his legs. They tremble and thrash beneath Soshiro, caging him in with his thighs and pulling away only to do it again. His hips lift off the mattress and his back arches, and Gen can’t help but let a slurry of incoherent sounds and curses slip out, masked under the guise of fucked-out groans and pathetic whimpers.

When it’s over, it’s almost relieving. He’s not sure he’d survive a fourth wave to overtake him, but the thought is thrilling. Next time.

Soshiro’s body stays slumped against Gen’s, his breaths heavy and ragged, like all of his stamina training has failed him. “Can’t keep up?” Gen asks.

“Shut your mouth,” Soshiro laughs. “You were just possessed by something for a moment.”

“We’ll never speak of that again.”

“It was hot, so at least let me think about it.”

Gen smiles against Soshiro’s skin. Everything he’s wanted, right here, in his reach, though now when the fog has started to clear, desire once having clouded all of his thoughts, maybe sex doesn’t fulfill all of those wants he’s kept to himself.

He flips them over, hovering over Soshiro. He looks relieved to settle into the mattress, a chance to lay down. Safe, even with the Captain caging him in. The look in his eyes is that of which no one ever gets to see. Well now, no one except for Narumi Gen.

“Join the Third Division,” Soshiro says, tracing a hand over Gen’s cheek. So gentle and kind. An offer that sounds so genuine, but Gen can hardly believe it.

For a moment, Gen thinks about it.

A very, very brief moment.

“Oh, fuck you,” Gen says, brushing Soshiro’s hand away.

“Again? Please do.”

“Just like this so I can argue with you about what you just said,” Gen says, but not without a hard kiss pressed to Soshiro’s lips. The Vice Captain has him wrapped around his finger, and he’s known this for a long time. “You can’t ask me that after you’ve rejected me twice, asshole. You’d have to rip my cold, dead body away from the First.”

“So dramatic,” Soshiro says, taking Gen’s face into his hands and kissing him deeper. He shuts him up with his tongue, and he does it well. Suddenly, Gen forgets what he was trying to fight about. “Then give me your schedule instead.”

“Schedule?”

“I wanna know your days off, and which ones align with mine.”

Gen pulls away, brows furrowing together. Dense as a fucking rock. “For?”

Soshiro groans, and it’s cute, even if Gen won’t admit it. Even if he’s the cause of it. Truthfully, Gen isn’t so stupid and oblivious, but getting under Soshiro’s skin is amongst his favorite things to do, right behind late-night video game sessions, online purchases, and slacking off when he can. He just wants to hear the Vice Captain say it, to push aside his own pride and let his voice carry out the words that will boost Gen’s ego to no end.

“Because I’m sorry for making you wait for so long, and I think we have a few years to make up for,” Soshiro says. So mature, if it were Gen it would have come out as a painful mutter under his breath, if he could have admitted it at all. “Now is that okay with you?”

More than okay, and Soshiro is right. They do have a few years to make up for, and with that, there’s a few years worth of taunts and teases, lighter now than before, that Gen owes him.

Who’s to say Gen should give in so easily?

“Fine with me,” he says, turning his head to the side so he won’t face him. “I knew eventually you’d come around. They always do.”

“Oh, is that right?”

“Mhm.”

“Then I suppose I’ll leave you to the rest of them,” Soshiro says with a deep sigh that’s more faux than real, and Gen can see right through him, even without the Numbers Weapon. The grin on his face is nothing short of unserious, not that Gen expects anything less.

Gen pulls him back in, biting his bottom lip. At this rate, he’ll probably take Soshiro in on his offer to fuck him again. “Just you, Soshiro. Only you.”

The Vice Captain smiles, and finally, it doesn’t scorch Gen’s chest and whatever lies within. It’s lighter, happier, even. It’s not earth-shattering or the feeling of being utterly fucked, but nice. Whatever this is, Gen will invite it with open arms, as long as Soshiro is the one to fall into them. Sappiest thought he’s ever had in his life, but by now maybe he deserves someone who’s stuck around all this time, even if it was from a distance.

“I would hope so,” Soshiro says. “Since I’m the reason for your sorry sex life.”

“Look, Captains don’t have much time for all that, okay?”

“Don’t tell me you won’t have enough time for a Vice Captain.”

Gen can see it written all over Soshiro’s face. Once again, he’s lost, or maybe in the grand scheme of things, he’s won. Who’s even keeping track of it anymore?

“I win,” Soshiro says with a smile ripped across his lips. Teeth and all, it’s nice to see anything more than his usually close-lipped grin, taunting Gen from afar. “I knew you couldn’t stay away from me.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Gen rolls his eyes, more playful than not. “Now don’t go saying you love me so quickly.”

“Four years isn’t long enough?”

Checkmate.

Fine.

Yeah, four years has been long enough .