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Tsukishima can admit to himself that maybe, possibly, his plan wasn’t as informed as he thought it was. He probably could have thought this through a little bit better, maybe chosen a location that wasn’t the cleaning closet (apparently also the staff lounge) in the back of Shimadamart.
Tsukishima would not, however, take all the blame for their current situation. He had only the purest of intentions when he had swung by to pick Yamaguchi up towards the end of his evening shift at Shimadamart.
When he arrived, however, a hand-written “To all customers: Sorry for the inconvenience, Shimadamart will be closing early today” sign was taped to one of the sliding doors, complete with an ugly doodle of the Shimadamart pig. He had peered into the shop, but half the lights were off and Yamaguchi was nowhere to be seen. This meant that Shimada had run off to do… whatever it was Shimada did. Possibly to embarrass a rowdy group of teens on the volleyball court or to get drunk and fall out of trees with Ukai and Takinoue. And with Shimada gone, it had been clear to Tsukishima’s sharp and penetrating analytical mind that Yamaguchi was closing up alone tonight, and that meant that he was probably doing stocktake with his sleeves pushed up to his elbows, and hopefully, the Shimadamart apron double-knotted around his skinny back.
With this thought in mind, Tsukishima had knocked on the glass until Yamaguchi popped out from somewhere in the back, a happy look of recognition on his face as he jogged up to let him in. He was, in fact, wearing the forest green Shimadamart apron, and it bounced against his thighs as he walked.
—
That apron was dangerous. Truly, very dangerous, as Tsukishima had discovered several weeks ago when he had first offered to meet up with Yamaguchi after he finished helping out. The way the straps crossed in the back and the way it stopped just above Yamaguchi’s knees. That one time Yamaguchi had worn a sweater underneath and then pushed the sleeves up his forearms, and then the sweater bunched up at the sides where Yamaguchi tied it in the back, and Tsukishima had stared at the line of moles on his arm as he double knotted a little bow behind his back. The few days Yamaguchi had worn his school button-up underneath, and an apron strap had been sitting on top of one side of his collar but underneath the other. The face Yamaguchi made every time he tried to undo his double knot.
The list of things the apron had done to provoke Tsukishima was long enough that he truly felt it justified him in his actions after he entered the store.
“Hi Tsukki! Sorry, I’m just about done here,” Yamaguchi had greeted him sunnily, and Tsukishima stared at the bib of his apron and the way it gapped slightly, leaving more than enough space between his dark t-shirt and the apron for a hand to slide around from the back and palm at Yamaguchi’s chest.
Things had really escalated from there, though Tsukishima felt he could argue very effectively that that this entire situation could be prevented if Yamaguchi stopped looking so cute in his apron.
Yes, he had grabbed Yamaguchi’s hand and walked resolutely and quickly to the back. Yes, he should really have more self-control by now, being an eighteen year old and all. Yes, he had kissed at the sides of Yamaguchi’s mouth until he kissed back. And yes, he had immediately slid a hand to rub at Yamaguchi’s crotch under the apron.
Tsukishima may have done all these things, but he was firm in his argument that it was ultimately that apron’s fault that he ended up blowing Yamaguchi in the back of Shimadamart.
—-
He’s pressing Yamaguchi against the wall, across from the rack holding up the mop and brooms in the backroom and occasional staff lounge of Shimadamart. Tsukishima grips the back of Yamaguchi’s neck, the knuckle of his index finger pressing against the base of his skull, and he sucks in a breath before he ducks down to kiss insistently at the sides of Yamaguchi’s mouth. Yamaguchi stops laughing in surprise after the fourth peck, and he brings his hands up to sit at the junction of Tsukishima’s neck and shoulders. Tsukki tries to press his mouth into Yamaguchi’s grin, but he mostly ends up kissing the smooth front of his teeth. Yamaguchi huffs out another quiet laugh, this one embarrassed, and Tsukishima shoves his tongue ungracefully into his mouth the second it opens. He kisses Yamaguchi greedily, tilting his head and pressing forward into Yamaguchi’s mouth.
“Tsukki,” Yamaguchi tries to get a word in once Tsukishima pulls back to breathe, though he isn’t particularly successful.
“Tsukki, are you okay,” he tries again, and Tsukishima decides kissing at the corner of his jaw and the side of his neck is more important than an answer.
Yamaguchi is only momentarily distracted by this, though, and his voice starts to sound genuinely worried when he asks again, “Tsukki, are you feeling okay? Do you have a fever?”
Tsukishima pulls his face away from Yamaguchi’s collarbone where it peeks out over his shirt collar, and he fixes Yamaguchi with a blank stare. “Yamaguchi,” he says, tone tinged with the barest hint of impatience, “I’m going to suck your dick.”
Yamaguchi blinks at him owlishly before managing to squeak out a disbelieving, “Here?!” He eyes the wet floor sign underneath a shelf with glass cleaner and rags in a small box, visible somewhere behind Tsukishima’s left shoulder, and his face burns at the thought of getting his dick sucked next to exactly three label guns and several boxes of untouched plastic bags.
“Where else would I be talking about,” is the response he gets, Tsukishima’s tone seemingly bored as reaches down to cup Yamaguchi under his apron without any warning. Yamaguchi lets out a strangled sounding noise, and Tsukishima sinks to his knees.
There’s a painful swallow and then his voice cracks a bit, but Yamaguchi manages to say, “Okay”. Tsukishima briefly considers whether or not he should take his glasses off as he rucks up the bottom of Yamaguchi’s apron into his left hand.
—
Tsukishima is glad he kept his glasses on, however, when he looks up to see Yamaguchi’s face as he licks up the underside of his cock, tongue pressing heavy and insistent. He goes steadily but he’s a little more into this than he cares to admit, his tongue sliding messily against the side of his thumb where his right hand holds Yamaguchi’s cock steady. Yamaguchi makes a noise like a surprised hiccup, and it’s decidedly very unsexy, but something hot and needy bubbles in the bottom of Tsukishima’s stomach when he hears it, anyways.
Yamaguchi has both hands over his face but he’s trying to peek down between the cracks of his fingers surreptitiously. His face is flushed lightly, though the way he’s trying his best to keep his lips screwed shut is much more indicative of how embarrassed he actually is. Tsukishima would give him a solid unimpressed stare and a frown in return if his mouth wasn’t busy. He doesn’t want to stare at Yamaguchi’s knuckles and the backs of his hands while he sucks his dick.
He wants to see Yamaguchi’s mouth drop open while he breathes quick and sharp in arousal, wants to see his eyebrows scrunch together as he pants, wants to see Yamaguchi’s eyes go impossibly wide as he sucks on the head of his cock. Tsukishima wants to lap at every last drop of precome Yamaguchi has to offer, and he wants to watch the way Yamaguchi’s breath will stutter and the way his face will pinch into something worried-looking because it feels so good.
He wants to see all of these things but he can’t. He can’t because Yamaguchi’s hands are in the way. Tsukishima is nothing if not a quick and efficient problem solver, though, and he moves his head back until Yamaguchi’s dick slips out of his mouth, and he slides his hand up to grip Yamaguchi around the base. He makes sure Yamaguchi is looking him straight in his eyes before he leans in to press an open-mouthed kiss to the underside of Yamaguchi’s cock, directly over where his foreskin has retracted to. Yamaguchi absolutely whimpers in response. Tsukishima sucks at him, and the fingers partially covering Yamaguchi’s eyes twitch. Tsukishima presses a little harder, the inside of his lips hot and soft, and then he scrapes his bottom teeth against Yamaguchi gently.
Yamaguchi’s hands drop from his face almost immediately, and he lets out the highest-pitched whine of Tsukishima’s name either of them have ever heard. His face flushes dark in embarrassment and he looks ready to melt into the floor, and that’s exactly what Tsukishima had been looking for. Yamaguchi can’t take his eyes off of Tsukishima’s mouth as it pulls away from his dick, the flushed head bumping against his bottom lip as he goes.
“Yamaguchi, hold this,” Tsukishima instructs, rustling the apron clenched in his left fist against Yamaguchi’s hip. His face is flushed, and he licks his lips after he finishes speaking, and there’s no way Yamaguchi can refuse him anything when he looks like that.
Yamaguchi takes the apron in both hands slowly, though he looks like he doesn’t quite understand the point.
“Tsukki…,” he tries, but his voice comes out a little too breathy. He takes a deep breath and tries again, “Tsukki, shouldn’t I just take this off? It’s in the way, right?”
Tsukishima doesn’t immediately respond, jaw clenching like Yamaguchi had said something particularly offensive. “Um, Tsukki—,” he starts again, but is immediately cut off.
“Just… just leave it on,” Tsukishima mutters, like it pains him, and he’s desperately trying to school his expression into something that doesn’t show that he’s had a hard-on for that stupid apron for close to three weeks now. He breathes out a sharp sigh, and it’s unintentionally warm and wet against the side of Yamaguchi’s dick.
Yamaguchi’s lips immediately curl over his teeth in an effort to silence whatever embarrassing noise he’s about to make, but a small whimper still sounds quietly somewhere behind his tongue and his hands clench where he’s holding the bottom of his apron up.
Tsukishima doesn’t immediately take Yamaguchi back into his mouth, instead gripping Yamaguchi’s hip in one hand and returning his other to Yamaguchi’s cock. He looks Yamaguchi in his face, and his expression is nothing short of him being about thirty seconds from being absolutely wrecked.
He’s all wide eyes and eyebrows screwed together in something that looks like worry, but is really just him being so turned on he doesn’t know what to do with himself. His mouth can’t seem to stay closed and his breathing is loud and his hands are shaking in excitement where they’re holding his apron. He looks like he doesn’t understand anything but the spit on Tsukishima’s bottom lip, Tsukishima’s long fingers, and it’s absolutely unfair how hard Tsukishima gets, looking at him like this.
Tsukishima wants to wreck him even further. He wants to be against Yamaguchi thoroughly and entirely, wants to bite at his shoulders and have his handprints buried deep into Yamaguchi’s skin, wants to fuck him hard and good the way he likes, and he wants Yamaguchi’s voice to go hoarse. He looks at Yamaguchi like this, and he wants Yamaguchi to grip his fingers hard enough that he can feel the ache tomorrow, he wants Yamaguchi to mash their lips together until his gums are sore, he wants Yamaguchi to press to him so heavily, suck him in so deep that he can feel him even long after they’ve both come and he’s pulled out.
He wants all of this, but they’re also still in the back of Shimadamart and he’s still kneeling on a questionably clean floor, so he decides it’s better to just suck Yamaguchi off until he drools when he comes this time. He opens up his mouth and lets Yamaguchi’s dick bump against his tongue on the way in without any preamble, and Yamaguchi makes a noise of utter defeat.
He’s warm and solid in Tsukishima’s mouth, and Tsukishima sucks at him languidly at first without moving his head. He tries sucking more sharply, and he’s rewarded with a dribble of precome on the back of his tongue. He digs his thumb into Yamaguchi’s hip as he pulls his head back, and then he’s tonguing at Yamaguchi’s slit and making sure his mouth is as wet as possible. He sinks his head back down, and it’s not quite a rhythm, but he’s blowing Yamaguchi like he means it. He starts sucking again as he goes, and it sounds loud and wet and impossibly dirty. Yamaguchi lets out a choked moan of Tsukishima’s name, and his legs wobble briefly.
Tsukishima draws his head back until Yamaguchi is a little less than half in his mouth, and he stares directly into Yamaguchi’s eyes as he slides his hand from Yamaguchi’s hip to cup his balls loosely. Yamaguchi’s eyelids flutter and he looks like he wants to pass out, but Tsukishima sucks sharply again and he presses warm and firm against Yamaguchi’s balls as he does. He can actually feel them tighten in his palm before Yamaguchi is pressing a shaking hand to the side of his face and saying his name more than he’s bothering to breathe.
“Tsukki, I’m going to come in two seconds please let me pull out, Tsukki, Tsukki, your mouth is so hot inside I feel like I’m going to die, Tsukki,” is the string of nonsense that tumbles from Yamaguchi’s mouth as he twitches his hips back in an attempt to get his dick out of Tsukishima’s mouth before he comes down his throat. Tsukishima opens his jaw a fraction and Yamaguchi’s cock slides free, but he doesn’t release his grip on it.
Yamaguchi opens his mouth and looks almost frantic, but Tsukishima cuts him off by jerking Yamaguchi firmly, his fist gliding up and down Yamaguchi’s shaft easily because it’s covered in his spit. Yamaguchi is holding his apron entirely in one hand now, though he’s pulling hard enough at it that Tsukishima wouldn’t be surprised if it ripped, and the other hand is pressing hard against the side of Tsukishima’s face.
“Don’t die before you come,” Tsukishima says, deadpan, in response to Yamaguchi’s babbling, and his voice comes out hoarser than either of them expected. Yamaguchi tenses and his fingers dig into Tsukishima’s hairline, and it seems like he can’t process Tsukishima’s voice being hoarse from sucking his dick in the back of his part-time job while he’s still in uniform, and he makes an overwhelmed noise at the thought before he smacks his head against the wall and comes.
Tsukishima tries his best to rub Yamaguchi through it, steady and sure, but he flinches when he feels a warm dribble of come on his forehead and he closes his eyes reflexively. When he opens them again, he can’t entirely see out of the left lens of his glasses, his eyes unable to focus on anything but the come slowly sliding down the middle of the lens.
Yamaguchi drops into a pile on the floor, and Tsukishima takes his glasses off wordlessly. He leans forward until his head bumps Tsukishima’s shoulder, and he speaks in a voice that would be an embarrassed yell if he hadn’t just come when he says, “Oh my god, your glasses.”
Tsukishima says nothing in response at first, instead running a hand up Yamaguchi’s neck until he reaches his mouth. He runs his thumb down the right side of Yamaguchi’s chin, and when it comes away wet with what can only be drool, he says, “It’s okay, don’t you sell glasses wipes here? Use your employee discount.”
He tugs at the strap of Yamaguchi’s apron and tries to not look too smug when Yamaguchi lets out a real embarrassed wail, this time.