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“Oh, Kunigami,” Isagi says to him offhandedly, “can you get Chigiri? We’re meeting in ten.”
For the record, Kunigami Rensuke didn’t ask to be Chigiri’s keeper. He’s fighting for his life here, he has enough on his plate already without having to worry about wrangling some stuck-up, selfish, vain little princess on top of it all. Not to mention it’s a thankless fucking role — the rest of Team Z’s annoyance with Chigiri’s lateness always bleeds over to Rensuke as well, and Chigiri himself reacts to being rushed with cool indifference at best and open hostility at worst.
But, Rensuke tells himself, it could be worse. He could have ended up Bachira’s keeper.
“Sure,” he says to Isagi (Bachira's keeper). “I’ll grab him.”
Without wasting time checking anywhere else, Rensuke heads straight for the changing room. The whole team had hit the showers ages ago, but Chigiri always takes forever to actually get out. It’s not just that he’s doing skincare or brushing his hair or whatever — Rensuke knows for a fact that even after all that’s done, he sits there in front of the mirror just, like, fussing. Narcissist.
“Chigiri,” he calls as he approaches the changing room. “Wrap it up, okay? We’re having a meeting soon.”
There’s no response from inside. Rensuke wasn’t really expecting one; Chigiri never comes easily.
“Hey,” he says, pushing the door open and striding in, “Chigiri?”
As expected, Chigiri’s sitting in front of the mirror. But for some reason, he’s turned away from it, facing the door, arms crossed imperiously across his chest with an oddly smug expression on his face. Almost like he was waiting for Rensuke to show up.
“Kunigami,” Chigiri says.
“Uh,” Rensuke says, feeling a little uneasy. “If you’re done, d’you wanna head back to the room? We’re meeting soon, so…”
“How soon?” Chigiri says.
“Ten minutes,” Rensuke says warily, “why?”
“Hm,” Chigiri says. He idly winds a strand of hair around one finger. “That’s long enough.”
Chigiri’s giving him this long, weird look. Hungry, confident. It’s somehow different from the look he gets on the pitch, focused and ravenous and a little bit desperate; it’s self-assured, almost predatory.
Rensuke doesn’t want to ask, but he does anyway: “Long enough for what?”
“For you to get me off,” Chigiri says without batting an eyelash. “Get in here and close the door, would you?”
Rensuke freezes. Stares. Chigiri’s just looking back at him calmly.
“I think I misheard you,” Rensuke says slowly. “What did you say?”
“You heard me just fine,” Chigiri says.
“I’m giving you a do-over,” Rensuke says. “Try again. What’d you say, Chigiri?”
Chigiri rolls his eyes. “I mean, I’ll get you off too, duh. Just hurry up and come over here.”
“Chigiri,” Rensuke snaps. “I’m not playing around here.”
“I’m not either,” Chigiri retorts. “I’m horny, and so are you. Before you lie and try to deny it, I know you’ve been jacking off in the toilet before bedtime. I heard you last night.”
Rensuke’s mouth falls open, and he quickly snaps it shut. He can feel his face heating up, and he knows he should refute it, but Chigiri’s right, he can’t lie for shit, and anyway, now he’s got all kinds of mental images swimming around in his head. Of himself leaning against the toilet stall wall, fisting his cock and trying not to make any noise. Of Chigiri in the next stall over, listening.
“Now close the door already,” Chigiri says.
Rensuke should turn around and leave. He should just forget this happened. He should go back to the room and wait until the team meeting starts, tell the others they can start with or without Chigiri. Why should he give a fuck about Chigiri anyway? They’re temporary teammates, they’re rivals, they’re ultimately little more than strangers; Chigiri has no right to ask something like this of Rensuke.
“Well?” Chigiri says impatiently.
Rensuke steps inside the room. He closes the door.
“You’re crazy,” he says flatly.
Chigiri looks very smug very briefly, and then he’s beckoning Rensuke closer. “We should hurry.”
“This is crazy,” Rensuke says. “I must be crazy.”
“Yeah, yeah,” Chigiri says. He’s already pushing down the waistband of his sweatpants. “C’mere.”
The thing about Chigiri is that his narcissism is, unfortunately, justified; he is absurdly, out-of-this-world pretty. Everything about him is. Of course his face is gorgeous, and he’s got that long, silky hair, but even in less obvious places he’s pretty: his short, clean fingernails, his subtly muscled forearms. The nape of his neck. Rensuke had tried not noticing for a while, but ultimately figured there was no harm in just noticing that someone was attractive, and would allow himself glances here and there. It was objectively true that Chigiri was good-looking, but it didn’t have to mean anything special to Rensuke in particular.
But now Chigiri’s pushing his sweatpants all the way down and pulling his cock out, and Rensuke realizes he’s never going to be objective about Chigiri ever again. He can’t come back from this. He is now going to have to live the rest of his life with this memory burned into his brain. Every time he looks at Chigiri he’s going to think of this moment — of the way his slender fingers look wrapped around his cock (and of course even his cock is pretty, flushed pink and perfectly proportioned), the way he strokes himself to get hard. He’s going to think of Chigiri’s hair, hanging down loose around his shoulders, a few long strands falling into his face and how he shakes his head a little to clear them away, how he looks up at Rensuke, eyes dark and sultry. He’s going to have to live with the knowledge that Chigiri doesn’t wear anything under those sweatpants — or maybe he does, usually, and he’s only going commando right now because he planned this. Either way, Rensuke’s resigned to obsessing over that fact until his dying day. He’s seen Chigiri naked, of course, they’ve all seen each other naked, but that was in the showers. Chigiri being fully nude to wash up is perfectly reasonable; Chigiri being fully clothed with only his hard cock and upper thighs exposed is somehow triple-X obscene.
“Pull up a chair,” Chigiri says. His voice is awfully even, given the fact that he’s got his dick out in the changing room with Rensuke watching. Maybe he’s used to this kind of thing.
Rensuke’s not. He feels totally out of his depth. He never even really liked talking about sex with his friends and teammates back home, and couldn’t imagine agreeing to jerk any of them off. So if Chigiri wants to be the one to choreograph this whole thing, Rensuke’s probably better off just following his lead than putting up any kind of fight.
But at the same time, he is a red-blooded high school boy. He might not be super experienced but he does have a high libido and plenty of his own preferences. And looking at Chigiri sitting there touching himself is so erotic that he can’t help but get a little greedy.
“Chigiri,” he says, kneeling down between Chigiri’s legs and wrapping his arms beneath Chigiri’s knees. “Hold on to me.”
“What?” Chigiri says, but he does as he’s told, lacing his hands behind Rensuke’s neck. “Hey—!”
As Rensuke rises and hoists him up, Chigiri squeaks and tightens his grip, clings close. Rensuke walks them just a few steps over and sets him down on the changing room counter, but Chigiri doesn’t loosen his hold. Rensuke straightens up until they’re eye to eye, and — oh. Chigiri’s gone very, very pink in the face.
Rensuke can’t help but smirk. “You okay, princess?”
“I’m fine,” Chigiri huffs, “just, a little warning would’ve been nice.”
“That’s fair,” Rensuke says. “Alright, I’m gonna get you off. Just like you asked for. Okay?”
“Okay,” Chigiri says. He sounds a little breathless when their faces are this close. “Do it.”
It’s not, in the end, that hard to clear the mental hurdle of touching his teammate’s dick. Maybe it’s because of the insane pressure cooker that is Blue Lock. Maybe it’s because Rensuke has always kinda known he liked guys.
Or it might just be because this is Chigiri Hyoma. No matter how much pressure he’s under, no matter how much he needs to blow off steam, no matter how much he’s fantasized about doing this in the past, he can’t imagine wanting it enough to actually follow through with anyone but selfish, beautiful Chigiri. He just never really bothered imagining it until now, because how the hell could he have predicted that Chigiri’d want it too?
Rensuke starts slow. As soon as he starts stroking Chigiri’s cock, Chigiri’s breathing hitches, his back arches. He’s sensitive, Rensuke realizes, thumbing at the slit, slicking precum over his fingers and then back down the shaft. Maybe he hasn’t touched himself in a while.
“You pent up?” he asks, still pumping Chigiri’s cock.
“Mm,” Chigiri grunts. “N-not really.”
“Fuck,” Rensuke says. “So you’re always just like this?”
Chigiri’s fingers dig deeper into the back of Rensuke’s neck. “It’s not always like this.”
“Fuck, Chigiri,” Rensuke says, and goes back to rubbing the tip. It’s what he likes, he figures it’ll make Chigiri feel good.
“Ah!” Chigiri whines. He’s working his hips a little, trying to thrust into Rensuke’s grip, and there’s more precum now, so that the sound of Rensuke’s fist working his cock is loud and wet.
“Fuck,” Rensuke says again. He doesn’t have the capacity for any other words right now. He’s so turned on, he can’t think, all the blood flow in his body is being diverted to his right hand, determinedly pumping Chigiri’s cock, and to his own cock, painfully stiff in his underwear.
“Kunigami,” Chigiri’s panting, “wait—”
Before Rensuke can formulate any kind of response — Wait for what? We don’t have time to wait. Do you not like this? — Chigiri’s hands are off his neck and palming at the front of his sweatpants. His dick twitches violently at the sudden, extremely welcome contact.
“Take it out,” Chigiri says, pushing at the elastic of Rensuke’s waistband. “Together. Rub them together.”
Words are completely out of the question now. Rensuke knows that the sounds he’s making are not human. He does not care. He doesn’t have the brain cells to care about anything but getting his dick free, lining it up with Chigiri’s, wrapping his hand around both of them and stroking hard. His hands don’t go all the way around both of them, but it doesn’t matter — it feels so fucking good. It’s the best he’s ever felt in his life. When he thrusts his hips, his cock keeps rubbing against Chigiri’s ballsack and every time, Chigiri whimpers and twitches.
Rensuke is so fucking screwed. He thought Chigiri was pretty before? He should have known that Chigiri on the brink of orgasm would be devastating. He’s flushed all over, trembling and writhing, lips pouty and plump around a series of quiet moans, and through it all he’s got his eyes open, pupils fat and black but focused nonetheless on Rensuke. Like it couldn’t be anyone else pinning him to the counter, couldn’t be anyone else’s hand making him feel this good, like it had to be Rensuke’s cock rutting against his.
“Kunigami—” Chigiri says brokenly, “I can’t — ngh — I’m — fuck—”
“Yeah,” Rensuke grunts, “I got you.”
He angles his hips so that his cock is pressed up against the underside of Chigiri’s, keeps still as he can so that it’s one long line of hot unbroken contact between them. His fingers are so covered in precum it’s easy to go faster, his hand gliding up and down Chigiri’s cock, grip tight so that even when Chigiri’s hips start bucking erratically, he doesn’t get far, their cocks still lined up and rocking together to the rhythm of Rensuke’s hand.
“Oh,” Chigiri is half sobbing. “Please — please — ah — gonna come, gonna come, Kunigami I’m — ah!”
Rensuke feels every second of Chigiri’s climax. Chigiri’s balls tighten against his shaft, his voice goes hoarse and sweet, and then he’s shaking and spurting hot white cum over Rensuke’s fingers. Rensuke strokes him through it, squeezes the head to get out every last drop, and has to fight a sudden primal urge to lick up Chigiri’s cum like some kind of pervert. The only thing really stopping him is how close he is himself to climaxing, and he starts to withdraw his hand from Chigiri’s cock so he can take care of his own.
“Fuck,” Chigiri exhales. “Wait — Kunigami—”
Rensuke physically cannot wait any longer. He’s about about three seconds from finishing just off the visual of Chigiri looking all fucked out, so he’s pretty sure he’ll be quick now, especially with his fingers lubed up with cum.
But it turns out this time, too, Chigiri’s “wait” didn’t mean “stop” or “don’t;” it meant “wait for me.” Both of his hands wrap around Rensuke’s, circling both their dicks, and then he’s twisting his wrists so that his cum is all over Rensuke’s cock.
“Chigiri—” Rensuke’s brain has short circuited, even his hand has stopped moving, but it doesn’t matter, Chigiri’s working him fast with both hands. “Oh, fuck, Chigiri, right there—”
Chigiri’s got one hand rubbing the head of his cock, the other pumping up and down the shaft, his own cock still twitching in Rensuke’s grip. It has to be too much, overstimulating, but Chigiri’s stroking him like crazy and gasping like he likes it anyway, and that’s what sends Rensuke over the edge. With his left hand he grasps Chigiri roughly by the jaw, pulls him in by the mouth. It’s too choppy, too off-kilter to be called a kiss, but when Rensuke comes, it’s with Chigiri’s lips against his own, with his tongue in Chigiri’s mouth, Chigiri’s breath traveling down his throat, so hot he feels a little lightheaded. The pleasure is so intense he almost can’t breathe, and he comes back to his senses slowly, aware of Chigiri’s fingers sticky and still rubbing his cock as it softens, and then realizing that he’s still pressing their faces together.
Dazedly, he pulls back.
Chigiri’s smiling. Pink in the cheeks, cum drying on his fingers, sweatpants now fallen down below his knees, he looks so fucking debauched, and he’s smiling.
“Uh,” Rensuke says stupidly. He’s at a complete loss. There’s absolutely no appropriate course of action here, he knows that much at least. But instead of working to come up with anything remotely productive to do or say, all his pleasure-addled brain can think to focus on is how hot Chigiri looks right now. How badly he wants to make sure that this happens again somehow.
Chigiri, mercifully, speaks first.
“We better clean up,” he says. “Team meeting soon, right?”
Rensuke snorts in spite of himself. “Now you all of a sudden care about making it to meetings on time?”
“Maybe I’ve just been lacking the proper motivation until now,” Chigiri says. He lifts his hands and frowns at the mess on them. “Bring me a wet wipe.”
“Yes, princess,” Rensuke says, rolling his eyes as he turns away to the toiletries rack.
There’s no helping it; he supposes he can go on being Chigiri’s keeper just a little longer.