
Posted originally on the Archive_of_Our_Own at https://archiveofourown.org/
works/1263961.
  Rating:
      Explicit
  Archive Warning:
      Underage
  Category:
      M/M
  Fandom:
      Free!
  Relationship:
      Matsuoka_Rin/Nanase_Haruka
  Character:
      Nanase_Haruka, Matsuoka_Rin
  Additional Tags:
      Masturbation, Clothing_Kink, No_Plot/Plotless, Plot_What_Plot/Porn
      Without_Plot, Fantasizing
  Stats:
      Published: 2014-03-03 Words: 1212
****** Jacket ******
by tastewithouttalent
Summary
     "Haru doesn’t realize that Rin has left his jacket for nearly an hour
     after the other boy has left." Rin forgets his jacket at Haru's
     place. Haru fails to restrain himself.
Notes
     Written in direct expansion of this art: http://
     sexuallyfrustratedshark.tumblr.com/post/78383217130/rin-forgets-his-
     jacket-at-harus-and-erm
Haru doesn’t realize that Rin has left his jacket for nearly an hour after the
other boy has left. He has made himself dinner, eaten and cleaned up, and is in
the process of stripping down for a bath when he tosses his shirt and it lands
atop the black jacket flung over the back of a chair. It brings him up short,
though he’s not quite sure  why . He just goes still for a moment, arm still
extended as it was when he threw the t-shirt aside and eyes locked on the dark
material. It takes him a minute before he can turn away, and he tugs off his
pants and leaves them on the floor, retreating to the bath without looking
back.
It should make no difference. Haru tells himself this over and over as the
water laps against his skin, as he sinks under the surface and blinks up
through the liquid at a world gone soft with interference. It makes no
difference at all. It’s just a jacket. Mako’s left jackets behind before.
Nagisa habitually loses bags, shirts, shoes wherever he goes, and Rei is
proving to be just as forgetful in his own way as the blond. Haru’ll just get
out of the bath and text Rin to tell him he forgot his jacket and give it back
to him whenever they see each other again. It’s perfectly ordinary, nothing
else to it.
He comes up short when he steps back into the bedroom. Even with his t-shirt
tossed half-over it, Rin’s jacket feels like it’s dominating the room as
thoroughly as Haru’s cycling thoughts. Haru pauses in the doorway -- perfectly
ordinary, it’s normal, don’t be weird, his thoughts say -- and then he thinks
of Rin’s face, just a flicker of sharp teeth and teasing eyes, and the blood
bath-warm under his skin floods down to his cock. He flinches in the first
moment of capitulation, but he’s already sliding his door shut -- not that
there’s anyone to see him anyway -- and dropping his towel to lie damp and
forgotten on the floor.
It smells like Rin. That’s the first problem. Haru’s stared at the jacket tight
over Rin’s shoulders until he knows the pattern and the seams of it without
even looking, but it smells like chlorine and Rin’s hair. Haru didn’t even know
he knew what Rin’s hair smelled like, but when he inhales his blood lights up
with recognition so ingrained he barely has a chance to identify it before it’s
flooding pleasure into his system.
It’s too big on his shoulders. The same sleeves that pull tight across Rin’s
arms are loose on Haru’s, further evidence of the redhead’s training efforts
and Haru’s lack thereof. It’s obviously not Haru’s, visibly someone else’s, and
when he pulls the front closed he feels as if he’s trying on Rin’s skin,
climbing inside the other boy’s body and stretching out into all the places
they’re different.
He’s still pulling the jacket tight when he sits down on the bed, still
inhaling hard against the collar when he wraps his fingers around his length.
This is exactly what he wanted to avoid, exactly what he wasn’t going to do,
and if anyone catches him or Rin ever finds out he has no kind of explanation
prepared. But he won’t get caught, and Rin won’t find out, his adrenaline
assures him, and as long as he feeds the burning need in his veins the future
doesn’t seem to matter very much right now. Even thinking about Rin’s face if
he knew, thinking about how he’s going to face the other boy with this moment
in his memory, just makes his breath come faster and the adrenaline in his
veins pump harder. Rin’s mouth, smiling or grimacing or shouting or grinning,
it doesn’t matter; those teeth and those lips and that tongue have been
underlying Haru’s fantasies for years, and he knows it, for all that he hasn’t
let the knowledge form into recognition before. He can remember the way Rin’s
breath feels on his skin, the heat of the other boy’s arm thrown carelessly
across his shoulders, and when he exhales hard his mouth is forming the shape
of the other boy’s name without his intention. His mind is throwing up
unrelated memories, a trickle of water along Rin’s shoulders, the flutter of
eyelashes over scarlet eyes, the twist of a smirk at the corner of lips, and
tangling them together with unacknowledged fantasies -- Rin panting Haru’s
name, eyes squeezed shut and mouth open in a moan, long fingers working almost-
too-fast over Haru’s length, the slide of lips and tongues together and the
feel of skin on skin. His thoughts are coming too fast to call back now, and
every sucking inhale brings another wave of Rin with it until Haru can imagine
the redhead is there if he keeps his eyes shut. Rin clutching at his arms,
begging Haru to fuck him harder, faster, deeper. Rin’s mouth sliding down over
Haru’s cock, looking up at the other boy past the fall of his red hair, and
murmuring Haru’s name so he can feel it all up his spine. Rin moving over him,
inside him, holding himself up with one arm so he can jerk Haru off with the
other, grinning and panting and dripping sweat down onto Haru’s skin, the two
of them moving together in a rippling wave so Haru can’t tell where he ends and
Rin begins, their names pooling together on the other’s tongue until…
Haru groans Rin’s name as he comes all across his stomach, hand jerking over
himself as he pants into the shoulder of the jacket. He doesn’t realize he’s
biting the fabric until the first wave of pleasure has passed, bringing self-
conscious guilt in its wake.
Fuck. When he looks down, he’s come on himself and not the fabric, which is a
small blessing. He sheds the clothing as quickly as he can, though the vivid
fantasies now clear in his head indicate that he’s not going to be able to shed
his new epiphany regarding his feelings for his friend as quickly, and he
leaves it on the bed instead of over the chair while carefully not thinking
about it.
He puts on pajama pants before fishing his phone out of the pocket of his
pants, and then stands staring at the screen for several minutes before he can
pull up the text message screen. The tiny pixelated image of Rin makes him
flush hot with a combination of guilty awareness and newfound desire, and he
opens up a message quick before he can think about it any longer.
Left your jacket here. He sends the message fast before he can work himself
into a panic over the subtle implications in his use of words, and he’s barely
tossed the phone onto the bed and turned away before it buzzes with a response
and he has to go scrambling to read it in an adrenaline-filled panic.
Keep it safe for me, is all it says, but Haru smiles before he catches himself,
and it takes another hour before he can calm down enough to fall asleep.
When he wakes up the next morning, he’s curled around the forgotten jacket.
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