
Posted originally on the Archive_of_Our_Own at https://archiveofourown.org/
works/1918017.
  Rating:
      Explicit
  Archive Warning:
      Underage
  Category:
      M/M
  Fandom:
      弱虫ペダル_|_Yowamushi_Pedal
  Relationship:
      Arakita_Yasutomo/Fukutomi_Juichi
  Character:
      Arakita_Yasutomo, Fukutomi_Juichi
  Additional Tags:
      Plot_What_Plot/Porn_Without_Plot, Rooftop_Sex, Public_Sex
  Stats:
      Published: 2014-07-08 Words: 2703
****** A Special Lunch Break for a Very Special Domestique ******
by electrostatics
Summary
     Fukutomi asks Arakita to meet him on the rooftop for lunch. (They
     don't have lunch.)
Notes
     For barleytea@tumblr for all the wonderful art she's drawn, but
     especially for her FukuAra arts! Thanks so much for being so great.
Between classes, Fukutomi stopped by Arakita's class, said, "Arakita. Meet me
on the rooftop during lunch," and then left before Arakita could shout out a
confused "Haahh?"
Did he plan to have Arakita bike around on the rooftop? Or even jump off it?
Arakita grumbled and flipped through his English workbook pages. There was a
limit to what Arakita would listen to. Fuku-chan was being unreasonable if he
thought Arakita would bike around during his precious lunch hour on the fucking
rooftop.
At lunchtime, he slouched up to the rooftop, ready to complain. When he kicked
the door open, Fukutomi was standing by the fence barrier, the wind blowing his
hair in one direction. He turned his head to look at Arakita, and, stupidly,
Arakita scoffed and turned his head away. He could feel his face heating up.
Stupid Fuku-chan. He thought he was so cool.
"It's good that you came," Fukutomi said, walking over to him.
"What do you want, Fuku-chan." Arakita leaned against the wall next to the
door, fully aware of how Fukutomi was closing in on his personal space and the
intense look on Fukutomi's face. Arakita felt the skin under his shirt collar
heat up, his palms starting to sweat the way they used to before a big game
when he wasn't sure about his pitch control.
"Fuku-chan," Arakita breathed. Fukutomi's chest was pressed up against his.
Arakita had broken out into a sweat and he licked his lips. "Fuku-chan . . ."
Fukutomi leaned down and--Arakita was expecting it, Fukutomi's lips against
his, gentle but demanding, Fukutomi's arms coming up to grip Arakita's arms so
he couldn't escape--but even if he was expecting it, Arakita still squirmed,
just for a moment, before he responded. It wasn't like he had never fantasized;
it wasn't like this was the first time Fukutomi had gazed so intently at him.
It wasn't like this was the first time Fukutomi had touched him.
But then, it was Fukutomi, all attention on him, and Arakita--Arakita couldn't
even fucking deny that Shinkai was wrong. Fukutomi had to like him, to just
constantly touch him, to, well, to fuck him as often as he did.
Fukutomi sighed, grazing his lips against Arakita's cheek and then his neck.
"I can't believe you, Fuku-chan," Arakita said, subdued. "On a rooftop?"
Fukutomi pulled back, his forehead furrowed into worry lines. "No one will come
up here," he said. He put a hand on Arakita's shoulder and pushed downward,
without much force. Oh. That was what Fuku-chan wanted from him. Arakita got
down on his knees, his hands coming up to touch Fukutomi's thighs.
Arakita licked his lips. How was Fuku-chan so sure that no one would come up
and discover them? But instead of turning him off, Arakita felt himself getting
hard as he undid Fukutomi's belt and pants, pulling out Fukutomi's hard cock.
This was so dirty. He was going to give the captain of the cycling team a
blowjob, right on the rooftop of the school. Fukutomi had invited him and he
had come, but he hadn't been expecting this.
"Hurry up," Fukutomi said. "The lunch break isn't that long."
Arakita wrapped his lips around Fukutomi, feeling a thrum of pleasure when
Fukutomi grunted and moved his hands to Arakita's hair. Arakita tried to relax
his throat, but it still couldn't stop the sting of tears when Fukutomi thrust
all the way into Arakita's mouth, until Arakita's nose touched Fukutomi's
groin.
The first time Fukutomi had fucked his mouth, Arakita hadn't been very good. He
had never had a cock down his throat before, much less one of Fukutomi's size
and girth. But then, Fukutomi had kept doing it, had kept calling him to his
dorm room, and Arakita had gotten on his knees between Fukutomi's legs, had
undone Fukutomi's zipper every time to take Fukutomi into his mouth, had
learned slowly what Fukutomi wanted, what made him close his eyes in pleasure.
Arakita prided himself when he could make Fukutomi come just with his mouth,
and prided himself even more that he could keep sucking Fukutomi off even if
his jaw became sore.
But the worst part of it was the look on Fukutomi's face as he gazed down at
Arakita, his eyes narrowed. Arakita tried to match his gaze, to keep eye
contact, but between his own hard dick and Fukutomi's right in his mouth, it
was hard not to just reach down and undo his own pants, to stroke himself while
Fukutomi gripped his hair so hard it hurt and thrusted relentlessly in his
mouth.
"No," Fukutomi said, stopping his thrusts, and Arakita bit back a whimper when
Fukutomi removed himself from Arakita's mouth. "You can't touch yourself."
"Wha," Arakita said. He removed his hands from his own crotch. "F--fine." He
leaned forward again to take Fukutomi dick, to lick along its length, and
Fukutomi sighed in pleasure.
"You're so good at this," Fukutomi said. The praise made Arakita feel so
unnecessarily pleased with himself, so fucking proud that he could suck
Fukutomi off and get praised for it, what kind of sick fuck was he, but then
Fukutomi pet his hair and Arakita's hips moved of their own accord, the
friction against his boxers weak and dissatisfying. He needed, wanted, craved
more from Fukutomi, but as long as Fukutomi held his hair like that, as he kept
thrusting his dick down Arakita's throat, Arakita wouldn't complain. If this
was all that Fukutomi wanted to give him, he would be pleased with that, too.
"It's wet enough." Fukutomi pulled him away and Arakita gasped, his whole body
trembling. "You should look at yourself," Fukutomi said. He pulled Arakita's
chin up, and Arakita shuddered when Fukutomi swiped a thumb across his lips.
"Look at your face." Fukutomi's voice was husky. "You look like you couldn't
enjoy anything more."
Arakita opened his mouth to respond, but then Fukutomi was nudging at Arakita's
crotch with his foot, rubbing at the sensitive flesh, and Arakita moaned
wantonly, rocking into the ball of Fukutomi's foot. God. He really was the sick
fuck, but it felt so good, so fucking good with Fukutomi just focusing his
attention on him and no one else. No one else to see, no one to distract
Fukutomi's attention from him.
"Fu--fu-ku-chan," Arakita moaned. "Fu-fuku-chan, I'm gonna …"
Fukutomi dropped to one knee and wrapped his hand around Arakita's cock,
squeezing hard around the base, and Arakita nearly screamed in frustration.
"No," Fukutomi said.
"Fu-fuck," Arakita gasped, trying to rock up into Fukutomi's hand to no avail.
Fukutomi studied him. "Tell me what you want," he said, "and maybe I'll let you
come, Arakita."
Which meant that the request couldn't be as simple as I want to come. Godamnit.
His brain wasn't working that fast, either; Fuku-chan was so close to him,
Arakita could smell the apples he'd had for lunch or maybe the period before,
something, and he could hear Fukutomi breathing against him. His composure was
so fucking cool, it made Arakita furious, but he couldn't do anything, not when
Fukutomi was sucking along his jaw and neck.
"Fuku-chaaan." Arakita heard the whine in his voice, heard how desperate he
sounded, but when Fukutomi grunted affirmatively, Arakita just couldn't bring
himself to care. "Fuku-channn, fuck me, pl-please."
"Right here?" Fukutomi asked, sliding his hand up Arakita's cock. Was he
teasing him? Fucking bastard.
"Yeah," Arakita gasped. "Here. On the rooftop."
"Turn around." Fukutomi released him.
Arakita shuddered and turned around, bracing his hands on the wall. He was
almost glad for this; now Fukutomi couldn't see his face and how red he was,
how much Arakita enjoyed getting fucked by him.
He stilled as Fukutomi pulled his pants down to his knees and fidgeted. Fuku-
chan had said no one was going to go up to the rooftop, but how did he know?
What if someone walked up there? Someone was going to see the domestique
getting fucked by the ace of the cycling team in a public place and--and what
would happen to the cycling club . . .
"Don't think about anything else but me," Fukutomi said, leaning over him,
kissing the back of his neck through Arakita's shirt. Arakita gritted his
teeth. He didn't want to make any more noises, but then Fukutomi kissed his ear
and said, "I want to hear them. What you sound like when I fuck you from
behind."
Arakita's ears felt hot but he could still pick up the subtle sound of a cap
opening, and suddenly a slick finger was pushing inside of him, and Arakita
groaned as Fukutomi spread him open. His thighs were trembling and he had
balled his hands into fists, his forehead nearly touching the wall, and hoped
that Fukutomi didn't notice how easily he was opening up to him, but judging by
the way that Fukutomi was already inserting another finger, he definitely did
notice, and now Fukutomi was finger-fucking him with more purpose--
"Ah! Fuck!" Arakita gyrated back against Fukutomi's fingers, but Fukutomi
removed his fingers and Arakita felt empty and god look at him, he was being so
fucking slutty and the worst part of it all was that he liked being this way
for Fukutomi.
After Arakita stilled, Fukutomi slid three fingers inside of him. Arakita did
his best not to move back onto his fingers, not to fuck himself, because every
time he even showed the slightest reciprocation, Fukutomi would move his
fingers away, and Arakita would be left a mess, his knees aching on the
pavement of the roof. God, his knees were going to be wrecked, and his school
uniform, too, and Fukutomi was probably going to walk away looking completely
perfect and well-composed.
"You're ready, right?" At least Fukutomi's voice had lost some composure;
Arakita could take pride in that, that Fukutomi came to him when he wanted to
fuck someone. He didn't even wait for Arakita's affirmative, just removed his
fingers, and Arakita groaned when he felt Fukutomi's dick pressing right
against him. God, god, he was always so sore after Fukutomi fucked him, he was
going to feel this all day.
Arakita didn't even try to hide the noises he made when Fukutomi pushed inside
him. He was just thankful that Fukutomi wasn't trying to keep him from grinding
back against him and that Fukutomi was being so generous, was running his hands
underneath Arakita's shirt and touching his nipples. Fuck, one of Fukutomi's
hands was still slick with lube and precome. He was going to be wearing
Fukutomi's scent on him for the rest of the day. Everyone was going to be able
to smell it on his clothes--and they were going to be able to smell his scent
on Fukutomi's clothes . . .
"You keep squeezing around me," Fukutomi murmured. "Doing it on the rooftop is
more exciting, isn't it." He wasn't even trying to be dirty. Arakita knew that.
But his voice was so deep, and low, punctuated by Fukutomi's insistent thrusts,
that it felt dirty. Arakita whined, brokenly uttering Fukutomi's name.
"Do you want me to come," Fukutomi asked, as if that were a legitimate
question, and Arakita could only groan. "Where do you want me to come,
Arakita."
"Inside!" The answer burst out of Arakita, startling even himself. "Fu-fuku-
chan, c-come inside me."
"Beg," Fukutomi ordered, all captain-mode, smug bastard.
Beg. Like he was a dog. But then, he was, wasn't he, Fukutomi's dog, on his
godamn hands and knees on a rooftop during a school lunch break, his pants down
to his ankles getting fucked up the ass. Now he was going to beg for Fukutomi
to come inside him.
"Fuku-chan! C-come . . . inside." Arakita was gasping and moaning between
thrusts. His body wasn't sure what to do, what direction to go: away from
Fukutomi's hands, playing with his nipples, or back against Fukutomi's hips to
make the sound of Fukutomi's balls hitting his thighs more satisfying, to get
all of him inside of Arakita. How could Fukutomi have so much godamn control.
"Why?" Fukutomi asked. "Why do you want me to come inside you, Arakita."
In a moment of clarity, Arakita managed to yell: "I don't know, you fucking
bastard!" Hell. He knew that wouldn't be a good enough answer for Fukutomi. It
never was.
"Tell me, Arakita." Fukutomi stopped, suddenly, his dick still in Arakita, but
he wasn't moving, fuck he was just kneeling there behind Arakita.
Arakita made a keening noise, feeling full of Fukutomi's cock but dissatisfied.
"F-feels good," he admitted. "Feels good when you're inside me." Everything in
his face tightened up, his cheeks feeling hot, and it wasn't just because of
the sex. This was fucking embarrassing. "P-people are gonna know we fucked . .
."
"Yeah," Fukutomi said, reaching around to stroke Arakita. "They are." He
thrusted hard into Arakita, hitting his prostate, and Arakita nearly screamed.
"I'll come inside you."
"C-come inside," Arakita said, and repeated it again, his hips shaking. He was
so close, he was so close, but Fuku-chan was being so incredibly cruel.
"You can come if you want," Fukutomi said. "I'll come inside you either way."
That was all it took. Arakita bit his wrist, feeling a sharp bite of pain and
the taste of copper, and came, all over his shirt and on the ground and he was
never going to be able to look at this rooftop the same way ever again, he had
just come on a fucking rooftop. Fukutomi didn't even stop thrusting, didn't
stop stroking him, even as he was getting soft. He was sensitive but if
Fukutomi kept going--
Arakita half-sobbed, half-moaned, his body seizing up. He wasn't coming again,
but it sure fucking felt like it. Fukutomi's pace hadn't dropped at all, but
Arakita's body couldn't hold up. He felt like a ragdoll for Fukutomi's use, and
that feeling--that feeling was a good feeling, too.
"I'm coming," Fukutomi said. It would be hilarious--the frank statement by
Fukutomi--if it didn't make Arakita's dick twitch in interest, if Arakita
didn't try to consciously squeeze around him, and then Fukutomi stilled,
gasping, and Arakita grunted in pleasure as he felt Fukutomi's come fill him
up.
Yes. Everyone was going to know they were fucking. There was no way that
Arakita would be able to clean this up in time to get back to his class.
Fukutomi slumped down on top of him. It was comforting for a brief second. Then
their body heat became oppressive. "Get off me, Fuku-chan!" Arakita half-shoved
Fukutomi off, thighs shuddering when Fukutomi slid out of him.
"I'm glad you enjoyed it," Fukutomi said, leaning against the wall next to
Arakita and redoing his pants. Arakita looked at him. His cheeks were flush. It
was . . . cute.
Fukutomi leaned over and kissed Arakita on the mouth, almost tenderly, and
Arakita grimaced into the kiss. Of course he would be saddled with some sort of
romantic type.
"My knees hurt," Arakita grumbled. "Cycling is going to be hard! Are you going
to take responsibility, Fuku-chan?" He wiggled around as he pulled his
underwear and pants up and settled on the other side of Fukutomi. Sitting in
his old spot . . . well, he didn't want to get come all over his pants, too.
Everything already felt wet and hot and uncomfortable. Still. Arakita had no
regrets: it had been worth it to get Fukutomi to look as disheveled as he did
now.
"Come over to my dorm room later," Fukutomi said, "and I will."
Arakita rolled his eyes. He leaned his head against Fukutomi's shoulder. "Wake
me up when lunch period ends, Fuku-chan."
"Okay."
Arakita could feel Fukutomi relaxing against him, until he was leaning his head
against Arakita's.
He wanted to ask why Fukutomi had invited him to the rooftop. Had he really
just been horny? "Hey, Fuku-chan," Arakita mumbled.
"Sleep," Fukutomi said, kissing the top of Arakita's head. "I just wanted to
see you."
Arakita's heart beat a little faster, but he grunted in affirmation. "Yeah,
okay," he said. When Fukutomi slipped his hand into Arakita's, Arakita squeezed
his hand back--but if anyone ever asked, he would have denied it from the sun
to the earth and back again.
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