50 je-prompts: #014. game
rating/genre: NC-17, smut, fluff
pairing(s): Ohba
words: 989
summary: When Ohno, Aiba and alcohol are together in an apartment, someone wins and someone loses.
disclaimer: fiction.
notes: Alcohol fueled PWP. Would Ohba actually have sex or would they just sit and absorb one another’s essence by osmosis? Oh look I guess they have sex. Concrit welcome.
edited slightly for a continuity issue.
it's like truth or dare but we've no lies to hide
They are playing a game that kids shouldn’t play. It’s playtime when it’s dark and hot, when you can practically taste the alcohol in the air and breathing is heavy; tonight it is all that plus giggling that punctuates the panting. There is the sound of glass smashing and furniture squeaking against the floorboards as it’s pushed aside.
Aiba pushes Ohno against the wall, not too hard because that’s no fun, but hard enough that Ohno groans and grits his teeth a little. It would also be no fun if Ohno doesn’t fight back; he loops his arms around Aiba’s neck and leans in to graze his ear, whispering I wonder who’s going to win tonight.
All the giggling stops when Aiba picks his chin up from Ohno’s shoulder and takes a fuzzy (he intends it to be hard) look at the man in front of him. He stares at the man who has to fix his slouch to look up at him with unfocused eyes, whose lips are still moist from the alcohol consumed moments ago, whose eyelids droop as he goes on tiptoe to plant a sloppy kiss on Aiba’s lips. Aiba immediately opens his mouth and lets Ohno’s tongue in, leaning in as he greedily savours the taste. It’s vodka.
As they part Aiba doesn’t forget to bite his lip for payback. By now his leg is between Ohno’s thighs, grinding into his jeans and making him inhale sharply. Ohno grins, teeth white against his brown skin, and grabs Aiba’s ass to pull him in closer. It’s Aiba’s turn to gasp.
No cheating.
The space between them disappears as jeans rub into loose sweat pants. Ohno is massaging Aiba’s ass roughly, hips grinding rhythmically against the other’s. His world begins to feel lopsided from more than just the drinks; Aiba has to place his hands on the wall to stay upright. He barely notices long fingers slowly work their way past his waistband until they start to rub against his entrance through his underwear; Aiba hisses and clings tightly to Ohno, moaning an oh god this game is so rigged.
Loser has to do what the winner says.
Aiba pouts and stumbles towards the bedroom, bumping up against the corridor wall for support. Ohno tries to breathe steadily. He returns with lotion and condoms, shoving them in Ohno’s hands expectantly.
The lotion is poured over condom-covered fingers that resume rubbing against Aiba, who begins to move in tandem, groaning loudly as the two fingers are pushed in without warning. Ohno reaches in and explores with familiarity; he finds the spot that has Aiba biting his lip and reaching blindly for something to hold onto again (he finds the wall first, but decides to stick with Ohno).
Ohno continues to finger Aiba but slowly kneels down, free hand unbuttoning his own jeans first, then pulling down the front of Aiba’s pants. He can feel fingers threading through his hair, scratching his scalp lightly. He gives Aiba’s length one long lick and takes it into his mouth.
It’s game over.
Ohno matches the bobbing of his head with his fingers pressing into Aiba. As he quickens the pace and makes his mouth just the tiniest bit narrower, Aiba’s moans rise in volume until it drowns out the slick sounds coming from Ohno’s mouth. With one last loud cry, Aiba tightens his grip in Ohno’s hair and stiffens. He collapses onto his knees, hands falling to the other’s shoulders.
Ohno adjusts his grip on Aiba’s body with a grunt, taking all his weight. All Aiba can focus on is the steady rhythm of Ohno’s breaths echoing into his skull; he can feel his eyelids getting heavier, beckoning the darkness ever so closer. It would be all right to lean into him, just for a little while.
The last thing he hears is Ohno murmuring I’m pretty sure this is against the rules.
⁓
Ohno drunkenly cleans the apartment. He takes the liberty of both sleeping in Aiba’s bed and changing into one of Aiba’s favourite pyjama pants.
⁓
When Aiba wakes up he’s not lying on Ohno anymore. Instead, he’s on the couch with a blanket that he’s managed to twist around himself uncomfortably. He struggles with it for a while, eventually kicking it away onto the floor. Aiba leans back into the couch with a sigh. There’s a blank void between him making a pillow out of Ohno’s body and waking up tucked in on the couch, and he wishes it was filled in only because the idea of being carried by the shorter Ohno already has him chuckling. His laugh cuts short; he is all too aware of how dry his throat is and the way the morning light mercilessly stabs past his eyelids he's clenched tight again.
The floorboards creak near his head; Aiba reluctantly opens his eyes and turns to peer over the couch’s arm. The jeans have been replaced by very familiar threadbare sweat pants.
“Oh-chan,” he beckons.
Ohno gives him a quiet good morning, steps across the now clean floor and obediently takes the space that Aiba’s given him with a bend of his kness. The couch dips a little with the added weight, and Aiba is reminded of the beginning of last night; the mellow haziness that came over him while processing the last few drinks, the glasses carelessly left balancing on the edge of the coffee table, the way something inside prickled every time a thigh was grazed or a hand was brushed against when in search of the bottle.
“Oh-chan, I didn't play fair last night,” Aiba tells the ceiling. As he feels the arch of his foot being pressed by Ohno’s thumb, Aiba wonders if it’s possible to get drunk again just from his touch.
“No, you didn’t.” Hearing the subtle disappointment, Aiba struggles to sit up and look properly at Ohno. He wriggles his toes enthusiastically.
“Do we need to replay?”
( end )
pairing(s): Ohba
words: 989
summary: When Ohno, Aiba and alcohol are together in an apartment, someone wins and someone loses.
disclaimer: fiction.
notes: Alcohol fueled PWP. Would Ohba actually have sex or would they just sit and absorb one another’s essence by osmosis? Oh look I guess they have sex. Concrit welcome.
edited slightly for a continuity issue.
it's like truth or dare but we've no lies to hide
They are playing a game that kids shouldn’t play. It’s playtime when it’s dark and hot, when you can practically taste the alcohol in the air and breathing is heavy; tonight it is all that plus giggling that punctuates the panting. There is the sound of glass smashing and furniture squeaking against the floorboards as it’s pushed aside.
Aiba pushes Ohno against the wall, not too hard because that’s no fun, but hard enough that Ohno groans and grits his teeth a little. It would also be no fun if Ohno doesn’t fight back; he loops his arms around Aiba’s neck and leans in to graze his ear, whispering I wonder who’s going to win tonight.
All the giggling stops when Aiba picks his chin up from Ohno’s shoulder and takes a fuzzy (he intends it to be hard) look at the man in front of him. He stares at the man who has to fix his slouch to look up at him with unfocused eyes, whose lips are still moist from the alcohol consumed moments ago, whose eyelids droop as he goes on tiptoe to plant a sloppy kiss on Aiba’s lips. Aiba immediately opens his mouth and lets Ohno’s tongue in, leaning in as he greedily savours the taste. It’s vodka.
As they part Aiba doesn’t forget to bite his lip for payback. By now his leg is between Ohno’s thighs, grinding into his jeans and making him inhale sharply. Ohno grins, teeth white against his brown skin, and grabs Aiba’s ass to pull him in closer. It’s Aiba’s turn to gasp.
No cheating.
The space between them disappears as jeans rub into loose sweat pants. Ohno is massaging Aiba’s ass roughly, hips grinding rhythmically against the other’s. His world begins to feel lopsided from more than just the drinks; Aiba has to place his hands on the wall to stay upright. He barely notices long fingers slowly work their way past his waistband until they start to rub against his entrance through his underwear; Aiba hisses and clings tightly to Ohno, moaning an oh god this game is so rigged.
Loser has to do what the winner says.
Aiba pouts and stumbles towards the bedroom, bumping up against the corridor wall for support. Ohno tries to breathe steadily. He returns with lotion and condoms, shoving them in Ohno’s hands expectantly.
The lotion is poured over condom-covered fingers that resume rubbing against Aiba, who begins to move in tandem, groaning loudly as the two fingers are pushed in without warning. Ohno reaches in and explores with familiarity; he finds the spot that has Aiba biting his lip and reaching blindly for something to hold onto again (he finds the wall first, but decides to stick with Ohno).
Ohno continues to finger Aiba but slowly kneels down, free hand unbuttoning his own jeans first, then pulling down the front of Aiba’s pants. He can feel fingers threading through his hair, scratching his scalp lightly. He gives Aiba’s length one long lick and takes it into his mouth.
It’s game over.
Ohno matches the bobbing of his head with his fingers pressing into Aiba. As he quickens the pace and makes his mouth just the tiniest bit narrower, Aiba’s moans rise in volume until it drowns out the slick sounds coming from Ohno’s mouth. With one last loud cry, Aiba tightens his grip in Ohno’s hair and stiffens. He collapses onto his knees, hands falling to the other’s shoulders.
Ohno adjusts his grip on Aiba’s body with a grunt, taking all his weight. All Aiba can focus on is the steady rhythm of Ohno’s breaths echoing into his skull; he can feel his eyelids getting heavier, beckoning the darkness ever so closer. It would be all right to lean into him, just for a little while.
The last thing he hears is Ohno murmuring I’m pretty sure this is against the rules.
⁓
Ohno drunkenly cleans the apartment. He takes the liberty of both sleeping in Aiba’s bed and changing into one of Aiba’s favourite pyjama pants.
⁓
When Aiba wakes up he’s not lying on Ohno anymore. Instead, he’s on the couch with a blanket that he’s managed to twist around himself uncomfortably. He struggles with it for a while, eventually kicking it away onto the floor. Aiba leans back into the couch with a sigh. There’s a blank void between him making a pillow out of Ohno’s body and waking up tucked in on the couch, and he wishes it was filled in only because the idea of being carried by the shorter Ohno already has him chuckling. His laugh cuts short; he is all too aware of how dry his throat is and the way the morning light mercilessly stabs past his eyelids he's clenched tight again.
The floorboards creak near his head; Aiba reluctantly opens his eyes and turns to peer over the couch’s arm. The jeans have been replaced by very familiar threadbare sweat pants.
“Oh-chan,” he beckons.
Ohno gives him a quiet good morning, steps across the now clean floor and obediently takes the space that Aiba’s given him with a bend of his kness. The couch dips a little with the added weight, and Aiba is reminded of the beginning of last night; the mellow haziness that came over him while processing the last few drinks, the glasses carelessly left balancing on the edge of the coffee table, the way something inside prickled every time a thigh was grazed or a hand was brushed against when in search of the bottle.
“Oh-chan, I didn't play fair last night,” Aiba tells the ceiling. As he feels the arch of his foot being pressed by Ohno’s thumb, Aiba wonders if it’s possible to get drunk again just from his touch.
“No, you didn’t.” Hearing the subtle disappointment, Aiba struggles to sit up and look properly at Ohno. He wriggles his toes enthusiastically.
“Do we need to replay?”
( end )