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Emu blinks slowly. While he's pretty sure he could walk to the CR in his sleep now, something tells him he's made a wrong turn somewhere, because he has definitely just walked into a chocolatier. Open boxes and dainty little pouches cover every available surface, and in the middle of it all, Hiiro sits with a grim expression on his face. Considering how dour Hiiro's usual expression is, Emu thinks, that's impressive.

"Emuuuuu! Look at all this pocolate! Isn't Hiiro super popular?!" Poppy squeals, and twirls around in joy. Emu replies with a bemused smile, and nods his greeting to the increasingly stormy-faced surgeon.

"Intern." Hiiro intones dully, but Emu can see the smudges of chocolate around his mouth and, beyond all logic, what looks like half of a truffle on his fork. He's definitely enjoying the sweets, if not, Emu assumes by the trashed letters in the wastepaper bin, the attention.

"Have there been any new cases?" Emu asks. Hiiro glances up at him and nearly rolls his eyes before eating another expensive-looking chocolate.

"OK, I'll take that as a no..." Emu mutters under his breath, and returns his attention to the fluttering Poppy. She's with Hiiro's father, far too involved in a speedrun of a conversation for him to get a word in edgewise, let alone ask if she made chocolate for anyone. He frowns. It's not like he particularly wanted chocolates from her, he doesn't care about Valentine's Day that much, but seeing all these boxes of chocolate makes him kinda jealous. Just a little bit. Especially when he knows Hiiro doesn't care at all about the feelings behind them.

Maybe if he just snuck a few... He wouldn't notice, right?

"Keep your filthy hands away from my chocolate." Hiiro snarls before Emu's fingers even lift the lid of one heart-shaped box.

"Hiiro, come on..." Emu whines, and flops down onto the chair opposite Hiiro at the overflowing table. He taps the lid of a closed box, peeks at the flavours of an opened one, examines an organza pouch tied up with a cute bow. He taps, rustles, pokes, prods, and watches Hiiro's face twitch with the effort of keeping cool.

Hiiro's fork clatters as it hits the plate.

"Intern!" Hiiro barks at him, and for a moment, Emu thinks he's about to start a fistfight across the table. But instead, he stomps over to the fridge and fishes something out from behind the ever-present cake box on the shelf.

"Just take these and go irritate someone else!"

Emu catches the small pouch thrown at him easily. It's sheer pink with a bright green ribbon, and he's momentarily reminded of his rider suit. Weird coincidence. He opens it, and tips one of the chocolates out onto his palm.

Alright, a chocolate shaped like Mighty. Weird that Hiiro had those. Maybe Poppy mixed them up. He pops it into his mouth and bites down. The chocolate shell cracks, and a burst of strawberry filling washes over his tongue, sweet and tart.

He's about to praise Poppy for her confectionary skill when she turns and squeaks in glee.

"Wow Emu, Hiiro gave you those already?! He said he was going to leave them for you to find later! Do they taste good? They looked apopsolutely popnificent when he was making them!"

Emu considers himself a pretty bright guy, and usually has no trouble understanding Poppy even in her most pipapositively ridiculous moments, but he stares at her in blank confusion before Hiiro's abrupt departure startles him back to reality.

"Hiiro--" he looks at Hiiro's retreating back, then back to Poppy, her smile static, "Hiiro made these?"

Poppy doesn't have a chance to answer before Emu skids out the door, banging his knee on the table on the way.

He catches up to Hiiro easily, and pulls him back by the wrist. Hiiro lets himself be turned around, but in true Hiiro fashion, he refuses to meet Emu's eyes. He stares off to the side, and it takes a moment for Emu to realise how awkward the situation is before he lets go of his arm.

"Poppy said you made these?" Emu bursts out, but Hiiro remains silent. It's frustrating, how he's been refusing to talk to him lately. He knows there's something Hiiro is hiding from him, but surely this can't have anything to do with GENM?

He waits, tossing the little bag back and forth between his nimble fingers, and sighs when Hiiro shows no signs of speaking up.

"Thank you, I guess. You didn't have to."

"I didn't do it out of obligation!" Hiiro snaps, his expression suddenly furious. Emu takes half a step back in shock, and Hiiro mirrors him, eyes wide and pink dusting his cheeks.

"I'm sorry?" Hiiro's face twists into hot humiliation at Emu's apology, jaw clenched and brow knit tight. Emu grimaces, not sure how he's messed up this badly in so few words.

"Hiiro, seriously, thank you. They're, um..." Emu pauses, and puts on the smile he wears for sick children and their upset mothers, attempting to calm Hiiro's frayed nerves. "They're really good. You're great at cooking."

"Don't patronise me, intern." Hiiro spits, and the venom in his voice makes Emu's smile falter.

"Can you please just tell me what this is all about? I'm not gonna be offended or anything if you made chocolates for everyone, in fact, I think that's really nice of you." Really, it's unlike you to care about others, he doesn't add.

"They're just for you." Hiiro's voice is low and he's looking at the floor again, and Emu's really not sure what's happening right now. He cocks his head to the side with an inquisitive hum, and Hiiro's eyes blaze as they meet his.

"I only made them for you!"

"Why?" The word leaves Emu's mouth before he can think about it, and he's lucky his body's reflexes are better than his tongue's because he only just manages to dodge the punch Hiiro threw at him the second he realised what he just said.

Hiiro stumbles as his swing hits nothing but air. He's not a good fighter. Emu wouldn't tell him that of course, but it's the reason he moves to steady him instead of letting him fall on his snooty face like half of him wants to.

"Hiiro! I'm sorry, I didn't mean it like-- I'm really flattered!" Emu winces at his own words, and isn't at all surprised when Hiiro shoves him away.

"Just forget about it." Hiiro says, voice as dull as the look in his eyes. He makes a clumsy swipe for the bag in Emu's hand, and almost growls when Emu pulls it away by reflex. "Give them back."

M raises an eyebrow. He understands the game they're playing now, and suppresses a smirk. "Why should I?"

"Intern, give them back!"

"Isn't it on White Day that I'm supposed to give you something back?"

Hiiro's cheeks flush a deep, pretty pink, and M can barely resist the urge to tease him.

"Intern, please give them back."

"Please?" M giggles, and twirls the bag around on his finger. "Never heard you say please before, Hiiro."

"We can forget about this. It doesn't have to affect our working relationship."

"Are you interested in a relationship, Hiiro?"

"Intern--" Hiiro's sentence is cut short as M backs him up into a wall. He retreats to silence, eyes wide as M draws closer.

"But these chocolates, Hiiro," M dangles the bag in front of them both, "Did you stay up all night making sure I'd like them?"

Hiiro says nothing, and M leans back against the wall as he pulls out another Mighty chocolate.

"How long did it take to make the moulds? Have you been planning this for a long time? Oh, I suppose I shouldn't let it melt..."

He bites down on the chocolate while looking Hiiro right in the eye. This time, the sticky sweetness of Turkish delight fills his nose with rose perfume and he sighs in heady pleasure. He's teasing, of course, but the chocolates really do taste unbelievably good. If this is what Hiiro's tasting every time he's eating sweets, it's no wonder he always has that orgasmic look on his face.

M smirks as he swallows, devilish thoughts filling his mind. Hiiro looks back at him, face flushed, pupils blown, red lips parted, every bit the picture of biological attraction. Oh, it's too easy. He leans forward, pauses, and it's Hiiro who closes the gap.

It's more of a peck than a kiss, a brief touch of the lips before Hiiro pulls away, clearly embarrassed, but M snakes an arm around his waist and pulls him back in for a better one. He doesn't share Hiiro's feelings, sure, but Hiiro is gorgeous, and his soft lips are so much better pressed against his own than curled into a sneer. Why would he say no?

He kisses Hiiro like he's playing to win, and Hiiro melts against him, providing only the most token resistance when M amps it up. Hiiro inhales sharply when M's tongue presses against his, and M just knows how much the cloying sweetness is affecting him. Hiiro pushes the kiss deeper, holds him closer, his delicate surgeon's fingers digging hard into M's upper arms.

M matches him every step of the way. Hiiro is soft around the middle, no doubt from all the cakes and pie and chocolate, and M has to stop himself from letting his hands wander down his back. He's pretty sure Hiiro's not that easy, but he can test that route another time if Hiiro's increasing desperation is anything to go by. Hiiro clutches at him like he's afraid he'll leave, catching his breath in little gasps between kisses and barely supporting his own weight. There's something about it now that feels wrong, and Emu breaks the kiss as gently as he can.

"Hiiro?" Emu asks quietly, and nudges him as he goes to turn his face away again. "Hiiro, it's okay."

Hiiro stares at him with the same expression he's had on his face all week, and Emu's seen it enough by now to know that he's hiding something, more than whatever just happened.

"Hiiro, can you please tell me what's wrong?"

Silence fills the corridor, and Hiiro's leaning in again when his father walks out, arms full of folders and documents.

"Oh, you didn't go out? I was about to get you two some lunch. Parfait? Macarons? Éclairs? Opéra gâteau?"

"Father--!" Hiiro knocks Emu aside with a yelp, and hastily smooths down his shirt.

"You've got so much chocolate, how about something fruity? How about you, Emu?"

"Uh, I'm..." Emu looks around the empty hallway like he'll see something to prompt him, and Hiiro's father gives him a wry smile.

"I'll just pick up something on the way." he says, and clears his throat before awkwardly shuffling all his folders around so he can pat him on the shoulder. He looks like he's going to say something more, but he looks over to Hiiro instead and gives him a loving smile. "Don't get in trouble, you two."

Hiiro huffs in irritation, and the director leaves without another word.

Silence washes through the hallway again, and Emu clears his throat in an effort to break it. But Hiiro just turns to walk back to CR, and Emu doesn't know what to say, so he says nothing, and lets anxiety gnaw at him. If Hiiro can force out a confession, however much of a mess it was, but can't tell him what it is he's so worried about, it has to be something big.

 

 



 

 

"It's socially expected that the recipient of Valentine's Day chocolate should reciprocate, regardless of their personal feelings, on White Day. It does no harm to my reputation to participate in this simple frivolity if it increases the productivity of my staff. And it would be over faster if you tied these ribbons instead of wasting my time with stupid questions."

"Wahhh, Hiiro! That's not romantic at all!" Poppy whines, but crawls out of her TV screen to help him nevertheless.

Emu enters the CR, unprepared for the overwhelmingly sweet scent of candy that nearly knocks him backwards. He's developed a bit more of a sweet tooth since working in CR, but this has got to be sickly even by Hiiro's standards.

He glances at Hiiro as he walks in. They haven't talked much since Valentine's Day, not about the chocolates, anyway, only business and Bugsters. At least he knows what Hiiro was so concerned about now. It scares him too, the idea that if he transforms again he might get stuck as M, this time permanently. But Hiiro insists on treating him personally, and something inside Emu's chest has started to feel tight every time he looks at him. He watches as those skillful fingers wrap ribbons around jars of artisan rock candy, and wonders if Hiiro still feels the same, or if it was built up in the heat of the moment, brought on by fear of losing someone close.

"Hiiro, can I please talk to you for a moment?"

"Can't you see I'm busy?! Shut up and get out if you're just going to get in the way."

Emu restrains himself from rolling his eyes, and takes his chance by stilling one of Hiiro's busily working hands with one of his own.

Hiiro freezes, and Emu prays that he's not messing up again.

"Will you at least see me after you finish? I have something for you."

"I have no intent on spending my one evening off with you." Hiiro sniffs, but he doesn't move his hand, nor does his voice hold any real anger.

The corner of Emu's mouth curls up coyly, and he draws little figure-eights on the top of Hiiro's hand. "I didn't say it would take all night..."

Hiiro pulls his hand away roughly and crosses his legs in a huff, but Emu can see the faint pinkness blossoming on his cheeks. Oh yeah, he has this route on lock.

"You may meet me here at 5pm sharp. I will not accept any delay."

The smile stays on Emu's face all day long. He feels light on his feet and nimble-fingered, and time seems to fly as he works. Hiiro barely speaks to him all day, but considering when he normally speaks, it's to complain about his technique or to scold him, Emu takes it as a good thing.

5pm sees him running for the CR. He lost track of time sorting through a patient's surgical history, and as each second ticks by, he can visualise Hiiro getting more and more fed up. He rushes through the security and hits the elevator button three times, as if that will make it come three times faster.

"C'mon c'mon c'mon please..." Emu chants, and is surprised to see Hiiro round the corner in a similar panicked rush, albeit one that comes to a screeching halt and is replaced with a veneer of calm once he catches Emu's gaze.

"Em--! Intern. I'm glad to see you're on time. For once." Hiiro clears his throat, and the elevator pings just as he looks ready to say something else.

Stilted silence overtakes them again. Luckily, the trip to CR is short, and Hiiro needs to change out of his scrubs and shower before leaving, so Emu has a chance to calm down as he hangs up his coat. He breathes out, slowly and steadily, catches up on the daily objectives on the games on his phone, tidies his hair, and once Hiiro looks ready to go, he approaches him, holding out a small pastel blue gift box in both hands.

"Um. For you."

Hiiro stares at him, his expression totally neutral.

"It's a present. For you. I thought you might like it."

Hiiro holds his hand out, but doesn't take it from him. It makes Emu nervous, and he pulls the box back to his chest without thinking.

"Well, actually, I'm not sure if you'll like it? But I thought--"

"Intern."

"--that you should have it? I don't think you'll like it, actually, maybe I should just--"

"Emu!"

The sound of his name startles him out of his anxiety spiral, and he realises that Hiiro's blank stare has changed to something between irritated and worried.

"Stop wasting my time." Hiiro says, and snatches the box out of Emu's hands. He unties the ribbon with a single movement, and when he opens the box, his brows knit together in confusion.

"What," Hiiro pauses, and picks the old-fashioned game cartridge out of the box with thumb and forefinger, as if it's something slimy or dangerous, "is this?"

"You know how Taddle Quest is a really famous RPG series, right? This is the first game in the series! It's a first print edition from before it was super popular, so it's really rare and super hard to find, and more importantly, this cartridge is in perfect condition! I mean, it's not mint, but it still works perfectly, even though it's years older than either of us."

Hiiro holds his other hand up before Emu can continue his breathless explanation. "This is a game?"

"Yes."

Hiiro closes his eyes, and puts the cartridge back in the box. "Intern."

"Yes?"

"I don't like video games."

Emu blinks, and realises he forgot a critical objective.

"Besides, how could I even play this? What is the point of something like this?!"

Hiiro's voice is starting to shake with anger, and Emu's kicking himself when a new path opens up.

"Don't you need a console to play these? Who would have a console that old?!"

"Um, I do...?"

"Then play it yourself!" Hiiro shoves the box back at him and grabs his briefcase, ready to storm off when Emu stops him with a hand on his shoulder.

"Will you at least try it, please? It's..." Emu pauses as he looks for the right words, and Hiiro looks back at him, lips pursed.

"It's really important to me."

The room goes quiet again, and Hiiro steps away to put on his jacket. "You said you have the required equipment to play this?"

Score.

The ride back to Emu's apartment is more awkward than Emu could have ever imagined, and he's really good at imagining awkward situations. Hiiro flatly refused to take Emu's scooter, so instead, Emu sits in the back seat of a car that feels like he should be paying rent to be in, with more space between he and Hiiro than he thought there could be in a car, and directs Hiiro's chauffeur to his apartment building.

Hiiro sorts through papers the entire time. He doesn't look where they're going, doesn't even glance over to Emu, and doesn't seem to want to even acknowledge they're in the same car. Just as well the apartment isn't far away, but Emu has to wonder what sort of impression the chauffeur is getting from the silence. The air feels thick in his lungs. It feels like he's bringing a boy home after a party, and the crippling fear of being thrown out of the taxi if they so much as hold hands, let alone make out. He wants to explain that they're just going to play some video games, wants to make it clear that he's not taking Hiiro home like that, but he knows that will just make it worse. And besides, it's been a long time. Maybe...?

Emu shakes his head as if to shake the thoughts out of his head. Oh man. Hiiro's coming over to his place. They're pulling up now, and Hiiro is quietly putting away his work. Maybe he could tell him to just stay here, and he can get the console and just bring it to CR?

"Is this the correct address, sir?"

"Oh-- yes, yes! Thank you very much!" Emu almost squeaks, and bows at the bored-looking chauffeur.

He scrambles out of the car, and nearly leaps up the stairs, halfway up before Hiiro even finishes getting out of the car.

"Intern!" Hiiro shouts, and Emu suddenly realises he's already at his door, fumbling with his keys.

"H-Hiiro, this way!"

Hiiro is less than enthused by the time he finishes walking up three flights of stairs, and his expression doesn't change at the sight of Emu's tiny student apartment.

"Can I get you something to eat? Drink? Please go sit, I'll get... something."

Hiiro slips out of his shiny leather shoes and suit jacket without speaking, and for the first time, Emu notices that without the heels, Hiiro's actually a bit shorter than him. He suppresses a smile, and digs through his pantry for something sweet. The panic from earlier has subsided, and he's grateful to himself for keeping his home tidy, because now Hiiro's browsing the games that line his walls and seemingly taking an interest in his trophies.

"That one's from the 2010 Tekken tournament," he says as he puts on some tea, and Hiiro turns the trophy around to read the back. It just says some nonsense in English about being a destined champion or whatever, but Hiiro seems taken by it, and runs his finger over the engraved script. He eventually puts it back and sits down on the small couch in front of "game central", as Emu calls it, and looks very, very lost.

"Here you go!" Emu smiles brightly as he puts two steaming mugs and a packet of choc-chip cookies on the coffee table, and Hiiro raises an eyebrow at him when he sits down next to him, TV on, large grey console switched on, and rectangular controller in hand.

"Ready to game on?"

"Intern, I haven--"

"Do you have to call me that when we're outside work?" Emu whines. Hiiro glances off to the side before clearing his throat, and quietly takes a sip of tea as the game's title screen comes up. He at least looks vaguely curious.

Emu teaches him the basics with ease. Hiiro catches on easily once he's been given a push, but he follows the linear path with no deviation, and about half an hour in, Emu takes the controller out of his hands in frustration.

"You can't keep missing these side quests, Hiiro!"

"Is it not the goal of this game to rescue the princess as quickly as possible?!" Hiiro snaps, and grabs the controller back off him.

"It's not timed! Nothing will happen to her if you go off track a little, you should be trying to look for power-ups and better weapons!"

Hiiro huffs and throws the controller back at him. "To this game's existence, I say no thank you."

Emu purses his lips, and saves the game before getting up and switching to a newer console.

"This one came out a few years ago. It's more focused on exploring, so maybe you won't have to be worried about the objective so much?"

Hiiro glares at him, and Emu ducks his head as he passes him a bright purple controller. The story isn't much different to the original if he's being honest, but he's sure that if nothing else, the advanced graphics will catch Hiiro's attention the way pixels didn't.

An hour later, he's proved right. Hiiro's so engrossed in the world that he barely even responds to questions, and now... well, now Emu's kind of bored.

He resorts to pressing pause on Hiiro's controller himself after his third "Hiiro..." goes unanswered.

"Hiiro, do you want to order something for dinner?"

Hiiro blinks, and checks his watch. It's already 7, and while they've polished off an entire packet of cookies, actual food is in order.

"Do you like Chinese?" Emu asks as he passes the menu off the fridge to Hiiro, and tries not to stare as Hiiro loosens his tie and unbuttons his top two buttons as he reads.

Fifteen minutes and an argument about payment later, they're sitting at the tiny kitchen table digging through sweet and sour pork and wonton soup, and Emu realises this is the first time he's actually seen Hiiro eat with chopsticks. His hands are just as skillful as they are with knife and fork, delicately picking up dumplings without issue, and he savours each mouthful while Emu shovels rice in as fast as he can without choking. And boy, does Emu feel like choking by the time they reach dessert. It's nothing special, just sesame balls, but Hiiro doesn't seem to have had them before, and is very surprised when the fried outside gives way to spill hot custard down his shirt. Emu tries to hide a snicker, and Hiiro goes scarlet as he tries to surreptitiously clean up, but all the tissues do is make it worse.

"Stop laughing!"

"I'm sorry!" Emu bursts out into full blown cackles, and Hiiro growls and goes to the sink. The water gets everywhere, and while the custard washes out, now Hiiro's entire chest is wet instead of just a spot barely the size of a 100 yen coin.

Emu has to wipe away tears as Hiiro grumbles and tries to dry off with a tea towel. It's kind of cute, how quickly his cool exterior cracks whenever anything mildly inconvenient happens, but at the same time, he doesn't want Hiiro in a bad mood when he's trying to convert him into a real Taddle Quest fan, so he goes to his room and picks out a soft pink sweater for Hiiro to change into.

Hiiro takes it with minimal complaint, but when he comes out of the bathroom, red-faced and hair slightly mussed, Emu's mouth goes dry.

"This is childish." Hiiro mutters.

"You're welcome." Emu replies, and the confused look Hiiro gives him tells him that he probably should have listened to what Hiiro had actually said instead of being lost in how different Hiiro looks when he's dressed more like a real person and not in stuffy starched shirts and ties. He suits it. Surely he doesn't wear businesswear every day? Or at home? The mental image of Hiiro wearing an oversized t-shirt and boxers to bed like he does doesn't seem right. Maybe a matching shirt-and-pants pyjama set, the sort made out of soft flannel and patterned with cartoon characters. It seems a bit cutesy, but Hiiro does seem the type to wear something like that if no one else was going to see it.

He realises he's been staring. "Um. Did you want to keep playing?"

An expression flitters across Hiiro's sulking face that Emu can't quite place, but he sits back down on the couch.

"Are you coming?"

Emu doesn't need to be told twice.

What he does question, however, is why Hiiro puts the controller in his hands instead.

"Don't you want to play any more?"

Hiiro stares at the screen, and Emu stares at his profile, nose so sharp he almost looks like an impossibly pretty RPG character himself.

"I would like to experience the story without all," he looks back down, and gestures vaguely at the controller, "this rubbish."

"So... you want me to play it for you?"

"I would permit Emu to take care of the work." Hiiro sniffs, but there's the emphasis on Emu that makes him take pause.

"Hiiro?"

"What."

"Thank you for coming tonight."

Hiiro crosses his arms and looks resolutely at the TV screen, and Emu presses play.

He's played this game so many times he has to force himself to stay himself, play it without any tricks, or skip through the dialogue. But it's worth it, as by the time he's reached the last boss of the first act of the game, Hiiro is so engrossed that he almost jumps when the iron door clangs shut behind the player character.

It's easy for Emu, his fingers surfing over buttons and joysticks in double speed. The character rolls, fires spells, shoots arrows, blocks with his shield and swings his sword with perfect accuracy even as Emu takes sips of cola in between, and Hiiro watches in awed silence when the dramatic victory cutscene takes place.

"Did you win?" Hiiro asks, and Emu has only just noticed how close he's sitting now.

"Well, of course."

"Hmm."

The cutscene returns his character to a safe haven, and Emu takes the chance to save before he turns to face Hiiro.

"Hey, Hiiro?"

"Yes?"

"Can I kiss you?"

Hiiro looks down, eyebrows furrowed as if in irritation, but he nods, and pushes a lock of hair back behind his ear as if to point out the twin beauty marks under his eye as targets.

Emu kisses his cheek without hesitation. Hiiro looks at him, surprised, and Emu takes the chance to cover Hiiro in tiny little kisses. Cheeks, nose, lips, chin, jawline, forehead, eyebrow, everywhere, and he only stops and looks down once he hears an unfamiliar giggle. Hiiro's smiling. Not a sneer or a smug smirk, but a bright, toothy grin, cheeks squishing his shining eyes into little crescent moons. It's gone as soon as it appears, however, and fades quickly into seriousness when Emu pulls back.

"This is ridiculous..." Hiiro whispers. Emu kisses the words away.

It's closer to their first kiss this time, chaste pecks quickly giving way to tongue and just the tiniest bit of teeth, but the desperation from last time isn't there any more, and Hiiro's hands are relaxed against his waist, not locked around his arms in a death grip. It takes Emu back to his teens, making out on a couch, Taddle Quest's peaceful soundtrack in the background, cheap Chinese food in the kitchen, syrupy taste of soft drinks on their tongues. Emu hopes he's a better kisser since then. He can't be that bad if he's keeping up with Hiiro, and it feels like they've been kissing for hours when they finally break apart. Hiiro drops one of his hands to Emu's thigh, and it's then he notices another thing that reminds him of his teens. Awkward.

"Ah, Hiiro..." Emu mumbles, and shifts his knees closer together, hoping he can hide the growing tent in his jeans.

The hand on his thigh slides down, and Emu nearly shivers when Hiiro's talented fingers brush against his inseam.

"Hiiro, you're..."

"Do you want me to stop?" Hiiro asks, and Emu must be dreaming right now because Hiiro's hand is barely an inch away from his crotch. He shakes his head, and Emu knows he must be dreaming, because now Hiiro's sliding off the couch and settling between his knees, both hands running up and down his thighs now.

He's hard. He knows Hiiro knows he's hard, but Hiiro does nothing but tease his thighs while gazing up at him with those big round eyes and god, the zipper of his jeans is starting to hurt.

"Emu, would you like me to perform fellatio on you?"

He's so hard he can't even bring himself to make a comment on how that's the least sexy phrasing ever, and just settles for nodding violently.

"Yeah, I'd really like that, thank you."

Hiiro gets up and walks away, and Emu nearly falls over himself to get up as well.

"Where are y--"

He bites his tongue immediately when he notices Hiiro pulling out a little pink square out of his suit jacket pocket.

Oh.

Yeah, that probably would come in handy.

"Sit." Hiiro demands, and Emu sits so hard he nearly bounces right back off the couch.

Hiiro doesn't break eye contact as he kneels before him. Emu's not sure why he finds that so hot but he does, and by the time Hiiro actually touches him, he's already squirming.

"Relax." Hiiro's voice is steady, but his hands fumble as he tries to open Emu's fly, and Emu has to do it for him. Not that he minds, because now there's only the thin layer of his cotton boxer briefs between Hiiro's hands and his dick.

It's hard to stay in control of himself when there are delicate fingers outlining the shape of his cock straining through fabric. It's too much and not enough, and when Hiiro circles the head of his dick with the tip of his finger, he can feel himself leaking pre.

"Please, Hiiro."

"Don't rush me." Hiiro murmurs, but his voice has gone deep and hungry, and before Emu can whine in response, Hiiro's tugging at his waistband. "Why are you still dressed?!"

Emu takes care of that as quickly as he can, and nearly kicks over the coffee table in the process. The character on the screen is playing with his sword as part of an idle animation, and the music so gentle and soft that it seems more fit for going to sleep than getting his dick sucked.

"Did you want to move to, um, the bedroom...?"

Hiiro stares up at him, brows knit, and Emu self-consciously covers himself with his hands. "Sit down already."

Emu sits.

Hiiro stares.

Emu fidgets.

Hiiro sighs, and leans up to pull Emu into a deep kiss as he wraps his hand around Emu's now freed erection. Hiiro's hands are like magic, finding every little spot that turns him on more and teasing him back up to the point where he's leaking again.

"Look at me." Hiiro says, and Emu doesn't know how anyone could take their eyes off him. He rips open the condom packet carefully, pinches the top and rolls it down like a perfect sex ed demonstrator, and he's just reached the base when Emu notices something.

"Is that strawberry scented?"

"They are pre-lubricated with a body-safe, raspberry flavoured, water-based lubricant. It will not alter your experience."

"You bought raspberry condoms?"

Hiiro tosses the empty packet behind him, and looks up at Emu in annoyance.

"I don't see why oral sex should be pleasurable only for the one having their primary sexual organ stimulated."

Emu holds his hands up defensively. "No, of course not. It's just--"

"Do you wish to discuss my choice in prophylactics further, or are you going to shut up and let me suck you off?!"

Emu shuts up immediately. It's definitely the right choice, because Hiiro finally dips his head and takes Emu's dick into his mouth, sucking him in halfway just on the first go. His mouth is so hot and wet even with the condom on, and Emu can't hold back the groan that slips from his throat.

Hiiro seems to take that as encouragement, and starts alternating bobbing his head and swirling his tongue around the tip, all while stroking what he can't reach with his other hand and fondling his balls. It's too much, like he's trying to make him blow his load as soon as possible. His lips are glossy with spit and his eyelashes flutter against his hollowed cheeks, and Emu really thinks that he'd blow in two minutes tops just from that visual alone. And his stamina is pretty good. Just maybe not "getting blown by a hot coworker I thought hated me up until a few weeks ago and whose oral fixation I honestly didn't think about until now, but now I'm never going to be able to be in the same room while he eats ever again, oh my god" good. Each suck and each stroke feels like he's trying to milk the cum out of his balls, each lick of his tongue twisting around to taste every part, and Emu can't think about anything but how good it feels.

He's barely keeping himself together when there's a slick pop, and Hiiro pulls off him, panting.

"Are you going to make me do all the work?!"

Emu doesn't know what he wants. Reciprocation? He stands up and pulls Hiiro with him, intending to give him a kiss before swapping their positions, but instead, Hiiro shoves him back against one of the many game-filled shelves that line the walls and goes back down on him.

He's sloppier this time, tongue teasing the vein on the underside of his cock, and Emu almost comes then and there when Hiiro deepthroats him. He fights it as Hiiro pulls off with a cough and tries again, but he's so close he nearly knocks his trophies off his shelf trying to steady himself.

Hiiro growls deep in the back of his throat. Emu feels the vibrations up his shaft more than he hears it, and he's about to ask what's wrong when Hiiro grabs one of his hands and puts it on the back of his own head. Hiiro's hair is silky smooth, soft and clean, and he can't help tangling his fingers in it before the sudden question of what Hiiro wants him to do hits him.

He takes it slow at first, just following Hiiro's movements. A gentle push of his hips to test his theory is met with no resistance, and neither are the pushes and pulls with no force behind him. It's just a little guidance, just hinting how he likes it, but when Hiiro slows to a stop, staring up at him, cock halfway down his throat, Emu realises that just following along isn't going to cut it. He pulls out just far enough to rest his dick on those swollen lips, holding Hiiro's head still, and waits.

Hiiro glares up at him, but Emu holds tight, and a smile flickers across his face.

"Hiiro, won't you please tell me what you want me to do?" Emu coos. Hiiro's tongue flicks against the head of his dick, and Emu responds by pulling his hair back and forcing him to look up.

"Tell me, Hiiro." A tug underneath his fingers tells him that Hiiro's trying to turn away as usual, but his grip is tight, and Hiiro stares fiercely up at him in defiance. His eyes are like ice, but his mouth hangs open, red and wet, hot tongue welcoming Emu in with each subtle lick of his lips. Emu forces down the part of him that wants to play along, and instead, brushes the back of his free hand across Hiiro's cheek, smiling gently.

"Hiiro... Do you want me to fuck your mouth?"

The only reply he gets from Hiiro is a stuttered breath and squeezed shut eyes, but it's more than enough to encourage him.

"Do you want me to pull your hair and shove my cock down your throat?"

Hiiro's hands clutch at the back of Emu's legs, like he's trying to pull him closer. Emu's smile broadens, and he lowers his voice as he loosens his grip on Hiiro's hair. 

"Do you want me to run you so raw that you can't even speak to your father in the morning?"

The hand sneaking down to unzip tight suit pants doesn't escape Emu's notice, or does the deep, shaky exhale that sends a teasing wave of heat over his dick.

"Shut up and prove you're not all talk." Hiiro growls.

Emu tries not to roll his eyes, I'm just trying to be sexy here lingering unsaid behind his teeth, and directs his annoyance through his hands instead. Hiiro gasps as he's roughly pulled back, and Emu takes the chance to give him what he wants.

He keeps his word, and runs him ragged. Each thrust hits the back of Hiiro's throat and each pull of his hair makes him groan and work his own cock faster, and it's hard for Emu not to let his other half take over as he gets lost in the wet suction of Hiiro's talented mouth.

That part of him wants to take out his frustration with how difficult Hiiro is, wants to make him choke and smear his smarmy face with his cum, humiliate him just enough that he'd shut up with that condescending tone of voice just once in a while, and...

He shakes his head. He's not M. And as difficult as Hiiro can be, he knows the distance he puts between everyone is just a suit of armour. Or something like that. It's getting hard to think, especially now Hiiro's staring up at him like he knows what he's thinking and welcoming it.

That's all it takes to drive him over the edge, and he bucks hard into Hiiro's mouth, barely thinking at all as he rides out his orgasm except for looking in those pretty eyes and letting that hungry mouth milk him of every last drop. It doesn't take Hiiro much longer to finish either, and Emu finally lets him go as a drawn out whine vibrates through his still pulsing dick.

Ok, he can't stand any more. Emu crumples down, exhausted, and finds himself face to face with Hiiro. What was he supposed to say now?

"Uh... Thank--"

"Shut up." Hiiro mutters, but he leans in for a sloppy kiss, slow and sultry, then goes to clean up.

Emu barely has the energy to join him. They end up on the couch again soon after, and lean against each other as Emu plays.

Half an hour later, Hiiro's head lays heavily against his shoulder. He's a heavy sleeper, no response to any amount of gentle jiggling or whispering, so Emu leaves him be as he continues the dungeon. But soon, it's late, and even Emu needs to take breaks from games now and then. He's had a long day. He extracts himself best he can without disturbing Hiiro and shuffles off to his room, shutting everything down on the way.

The old Taddle Quest cartridge still sits in its console, and something about it feels. Wrong. It was his to start with, not that he'd tell Hiiro that, but now it just doesn't seem to belong there any more. He takes it out, and after a moment, leaves it on the table. He sighs, and covers Hiiro up with a Pac-Man blanket. He can think about things like presents in the morning. Now, he just wants to pass out.

 

 

"Intern!"

"Mmmgh."

"It's already 7am! I start at 7:30!"

"No, I start at 8..." Emu mumbles, and rolls onto his side, hiding away from the noise.

"How could I have let this-- to be distracted by this stupid-- ugh, my shirt!"

Oh, right. His brain barely processes it, tired as he is, but Hiiro's here. Alright. He'll deal with that when he wakes up in a minute, but right now he just focuses on crawling out of bed. He heats up some leftovers as he fires up his DS, and Hiiro is pacing, glued to his phone and ranting at some poor person on the other end of the line. By the time he's finished the level, Hiiro has his shoes on, and is staring at him from the doorway.

"Oh, are you leaving?" Emu asks, still half-asleep, and Hiiro's gaze softens just for a moment before his icy shield comes up.

"We can't let this interfere with our jobs."

Emu tries to pretend he knew this was coming.

"Yeah. Let's just forget it ever happened. I'll see you at work." Emu replies, and tries doubly hard not to notice the hurt expression on Hiiro's face. He's right, after all. After losing Kiriya, after seeing what happened when Hiiro was faced with Saki's murderer, he knows they can't risk taking this further, not while they're fighting.

Hiiro leaves, old cartridge visible in his back pocket, and Emu starts a new game.