
Posted originally on the Archive_of_Our_Own at https://archiveofourown.org/
works/4956631.
  Rating:
      Explicit
  Archive Warning:
      Underage
  Category:
      M/M
  Fandom:
      Digimon_Savers_|_Digimon_Data_Squad
  Relationship:
      Daimon_Masaru/Satsuma_Rentarou_|_Marcus_Damon/Richard_Sampson, Daimon
      Suguru/Satsuma_Rentarou_|_Richard_Sampson/Spencer_Damon
  Character:
      Daimon_Masaru_|_Marcus_Damon, Satsuma_Rentarou_|_Richard_Sampson, Daimon
      Suguru_|_Spencer_Damon
  Additional Tags:
      Older_Man/Younger_Man, Young_Dom/Older_Sub, Anal_Fingering, Hand_Jobs,
      Nipple_Licking, Stairs, Guilty_Pleasures, Guilt, Taboo, Thinking_of
      Somebody_Else, Short
  Stats:
      Published: 2015-10-19 Words: 1187
****** In The Interim ******
by DigistarDBZ
Summary
     Satsuma wants his object of desire back. Masaru wants to do right by
     his father's legacy, no matter what. The darkness of night hides just
     how wrong their approach to fixing it really is.
Notes
     I'm aware Masaru is 14, and while the age of consent is fairly low in
     the teens in Japan (13, I think?) there's still obscenity laws that
     strongly discourage it. Please don't assume that I support pedophilia
     or anything of that nature; if I had a Masaru that was, say, the 19-
     year-old one from the epilogue I'd go for it. (It's still skeevy but
     he's of legal age)
     With this in mind, please be aware of what you're reading.
===============================================================================
The deep night never saw much waking life, even in a round-the-clock monitoring
facility like DATS'.  The odd graveyard shift workers and scientists would be
doing their work, and perhaps a daytime agent had found themselves working
later than usual. But they were far and in between, and if there was anything
going on in the building's innards it may as well never had happened at all.
That was a good thing, as far as Satsuma reasoned.  Or at least, he would have
if he could concentrate.  
Having someone's slicked-up fingers probing his insides, trying to grind
finger-joints against his prostate made it almost impossible to concentrate on
anything else, especially not existential surroundings.  He could barely even
speak outside of loud breathing, struggling to even say the name of the young
man doing this to him.  
"M...ma...ma..."
Masaru perked his head up and made a brief noise of question, as he'd been so
focused on fingering and stroking erections, he'd forgotten about the rest of
him.  He shouldn't have been surprised Satsuma couldn't say much more than
those first few syllables, but at least it was his own name.  Satsuma had gone
to great lengths to try and not say the name of the person he was
probably really thinking about.
That wasn't to say the view wasn't good: the much older man was sprawled up the
stairs, slick with sweat, his long coat flayed open and just barely hanging off
his shoulders, hair tousled, mouth gaping, and chest very visibly heaving,
considering his shirt had been pushed up as far as it could under his armpits.
 Masaru had to watch as Satsuma once again pushed his glasses back up the
bridge of his nose, tempted to remove them but then feeling like that was the
one barrier he shouldn't violate.
"You gonna come now or what?"  Masaru asked him (he had a lot more work to do
on his dirty talk, Satsuma thought in the back of his mind), initially not
getting an immediate response outside of more loud breathing.
"Do something," Satsuma gasped.  "Just...just do it.  Please."
Masaru assumed "it" was the whole reason he had the small condom packet in his
uniform jacket for.  Getting his hands free, he groped for the stray, tiny
bottle of lubricant he'd pulled out of it earlier, setting it upright before
taking the packet out and opening it (with his teeth, after much difficulty
getting the stupid plastic thing to open).  He hoped he could still remember
how to put the stupid thing on, even swatting away Satsuma's trembling hand
when he noticed he was having trouble.
"A real man can put on his own condom!" He insisted, a statement that made
Satsuma roll his eyes.  Such silliness made him briefly forget how utterly
wrong the rest of this was.
It took a short while for it to look mostly acceptable, and there was a brief
but protested tug on the condom to make it look just right; but it didn't take
long for Masaru to slick everything back up and gently (he had to
remember gently, as Satsuma had specifically stated) insert himself.  Satsuma
made a throaty keening sound with pursed lips as this happened, grasping the
railing to keep himself from losing his precarious balance.  Masaru also made
noise, but it was much more gargled as his cock was clenched with a tightness
he hadn't yet been able to replicate.  
"Fuck," he gasped, his upper body flopping forward to meet the edge of one of
the stairs.  "Fuck...fuck..."
It took the motion of hips trying to grind into him to remind Masaru of where
he was, and attempted to piston himself.  It started off clumsy and
inexperienced, but Satsuma was content to help Masaru gain a steady rhythm.
 Masaru's breathing became more intense as he continued pushing in and pulling
back, nestling his forehead into the crook of Satsuma's neck.  Words never
came, as even his juvenile cussing had dissolved into panting.
There was something...unsettling seeing the top back of Masaru's head, in
particular.  When Masaru would lift his head to look at him, then look down in
a concentrated pleasure...especially how his hair stuck to his sweaty face.  It
was the whole reason the young man was fucking him in the first place, how
hauntingly like his father Masaru looked.  It made Satsuma shudder, struggling
with the last shred of cognizance he had not to moan his name.
His lingering resolve was about to be tested when Masaru went back to his
reddened nipples, lapping the sheen of sweat and salt that collected around the
area. Masaru paid intense attention to them before, when Sastuma's reaction to
having them pinched and sucked on was more intense than he'd expected a man's
reaction to be. He’d gotten too hard, too fast earlier, and now this was
threatening to break him already. He made an extremely unbecoming noise when
Masaru gently bit down on one of the abused nubs, and Masaru's stomach danced
when he noticed Satsuma's leg shot out and began to tap his heel against the
ground. 'Holy shit, that's hot!'
It was a losing battle to not say anything to the familiar head of hair
pounding him, afraid of what words would come out. Masaru insisted again and
again he was doing this for his father's sake, and he shouldn't think so much
about it, but...
There was something Masaru did with his teeth that he could actually feel it
inside the head of his penis.  Please don't say it, that's not who is fucking
you, please...
please...
"Professor...!!!"
Too late.
Spunk dribbled up in spurts onto Masaru's uniform, but right now he was too
focused on his own impending orgasm to really care. His own eventual last cry
of passion was far less erotic, and more of a distinctly un-masculine whine. It
was something Masaru had tried to work on in his free time, but masturbation
was always back behind keeping himself in top fighting form.
Collapsing on top of his commanding officer, Masaru laid for what felt like
ages, trying to re-collect himself. Satsuma's head was swimming, but his heart
was in a limbo between soaring satisfaction and crushing guilt. He did it
again. It wasn't Suguru's actual name this time, but he was sure Masaru knew
what 'Professor' was alluding to. 'If he hadn't gone after my nipples again,
this wouldn't have happened.' ('Yes, keep blaming the poor boy for not being
the man you really wanted, you sick fuck. Keep lying to yourself that being
fucked isn't as disgusting as doing the fucking yourself.')
Somewhere, in the utter back of his mind, Masaru wished he was the one Satsuma
was thinking of. He had to laugh; something like this was just another thing he
was chasing his father's shadow for. But if he were to ever make it to the same
level Suguru had made it to, it would mean trying to do right wherever his
father did.
Even if it meant trying to patch the hole in a poor, broken man's heart.
===============================================================================
 
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