Neito had never been a fan of sharing the locker room with class A in the first place, but lately it’d gone from just annoying and crowded to his least favorite part of the day. He’d never say as much aloud, naturally, but he had his reasons.
He was just adjusting his timers and smoothing out his suit when someone jostled him, making him stiffen with the involuntary touch. He rounded on the perpetrator, frowning as the octopus kid muttered an apology, still wet from the shower, and pushed through to his locker. Ugh, that had flared his temper for sure - his suit was made of sturdier, more water-resistant material than it looked, but it was still a pain. He straightened his jacket out with a huff and paced away, resolved to get the hell out of there before he saw -
Neito spotted the familiar pouf of unruly purple hair, turned to snicker warmly at someone’s comment as he emerged from the showers. He was naked head to toe and Neito couldn’t help but resent how cavalier he was about it - what, he’d been too shy to make a move or show off back when he and Neito had been engaging in cautious flirtation, but now? Surrounded as they both were by classmates, now he was willing to relax a bit?
It wasn’t even a small crowd. Both classes had piled in while B got ready for their practical lesson and A got back into their regular clothes. Neito sighed in annoyance and made to turn away - he could talk to some of his own classmates while he waited for them to finish changing, get him feeling less claustrophobic - but he couldn’t stop his gaze from veering… southward.
He did a double take. Despite himself, he released a huff of amusement. There were ugly, aching words rising in him as he processed what he was seeing.
Shinsou, the guy he’d thought he had something with, the one who had so casually broken his heart by choosing to join class A instead of class B, was not nearly as well-endowed as Neito had expected - or, perhaps, hoped.
It got him thinking hideous thoughts. He had a bad habit of doing that, and he’d been getting better about hiding them, but… he’d been hurt. He was hurt, seeing Shinsou joke around so shamelessly with his new classmates after so many months of casual flirtation with him, and Neito, despite himself, wanted to see Shinsou feel that hurt too.
“No wonder you ended up in class A with that as your claim to fame,” he sneered, loud enough for everyone to hear, and turned away in feigned disinterest. There was a moment of quiet, a collective sigh that he’d learned familiarity with in the tense moments after he made a subversive comment. Then it was cut through with a rough laugh, not Shinsou’s.
“Dude, you are for sure underestimating this guy,” sang Kirishima, slinging an arm around Shinsou’s shoulders. “You should get your eyes checked!”
There were a few whoops of agreement, and Neito found himself bristling in seconds. Shinsou apparently having had sex with a few of his classmates was nothing - hell, he himself had gotten fucked by half the student body - but… the casualness with which Kirishima touched him, the callousness with which Shinsou overlooked him... seriously, had there never been anything special between them at all?
Shinsou surveyed him with a chilled gaze and Neito fought right back, made himself stare coolly toward him. Shinsou smirked - that familiar, wonderful smirk that’d made him feel so weak, so many times - and said, “I’d think you, of all people, would know that appearances can be deceiving.”
The comment stung. “I should say I do,” Neito spat, “seeing as I actually thought for a second that you gave a shit about me.”
A hush fell over the room, then, punctuated only by Iida shouldering through the crowd, chopping his hand and spouting some nonsense. Suddenly Shinsou was pushing toward him, his mouth set in a grim line and his eyes ablaze with cold fire. His expression chilled Neito to the bone; when Shinsou arrived in front of him and set a forceful hand on his shoulder, he had no choice. He went down, cowed completely, no brainwashing required.
There were a few hollers, once again, as Shinsou knotted his fingers in Neito’s hair, forcing him forward so his nose was pressed against his cock. It was three inches at best but Neito still stirred, breathing harshly as he looked up at Shinsou with what he knew must have been the most heated, pathetic face he’d ever made.
“There,” Shinsou rumbled low, “Is that what you wanted? Slut?”
Neito whimpered a yes, gazing reverently upward, seeing the light flush on his old crush’s cheeks while people crowded around to whoop at class B’s favorite slut. He nuzzled into Shinsou’s crotch, inhaling deep, worshipping the soapy clean smell afforded by Shinsou’s recent shower. He opened his eyes - and his eager mouth - and raised his eyebrows at what he saw.
Shinsou huffed, “I thought you might like that.”
Shinsou was growing hard. And also growing in general.
In what had felt like seconds, his cock had grown inches. Neito bit his lip at the sight, sitting back on his heels to watch in idolatry as Shinsou’s dick rose to meet his task.
“And where do you think you’re going?” Shinsou snickered, reinstating his grip on Neito’s hair and pulling him forward. “Get sucking, little whore.”
“Yes,” Neito murmured, sinking willingly into what had long since become the familiar feeling of Shinsou’s brainwashing. He met the soft red tip of Shinsou’s cock with his lips, pushing down the shaft and feeling him grow even larger inside his mouth. He pressed kisses all up and down Shinsou’s dick, only distantly aware of his and Shinsou’s classmates’ jeers, consumed by the velvety feeling of foreskin on his lips, the sweet simple smell of soap.
“Now that’s how I like to see that mouth,” Shinsou commented, his voice booming in Neito’s mind, sharp and clear and completely contrasting with the distant echoes of the other residents of the locker room. Neito opened his mouth and sucked him down, all of him, just like he’d daydreamed about doing so many times.
There was movement around him - people returning to their routines, the appeal of watching a locker-room blowjob having long grown stale after everyone had gotten their exhibitionism licenses. They had to get to class, after all, and it wasn’t like this was the first time someone had had to shut him up.
Neito blinked slowly upward in his daze, and with his foggy vision the bright fluorescent lights shining behind Shinsou’s head glinted like stars, framing his slim face in hard light. He looked like a god, one Neito was more than willing to kneel for.
The addictive bliss of being brainwashed by Shinsou snapped like a thread at a gentle tap of his shoulder, and it was hard not to lash out on impulse when it happened. Neito turned to the interloper without moving his mouth, frowning up at him until he realized who it was.
Tetsutetsu ruffled his hair and said, “I’m heading to class, dude. Behave this time.” He met Shinsou’s eye and gave him a firm nod.
For once in his life, Neito was less than eager to break his unspoken promise. Much as he adored Tetsutetsu and being dominated by him, he had other things to attend to now - namely, new domination by a new lover, one he’d been lusting after for what felt like eons.
If nothing else, Shinsou’s focus being broken meant that Neito got to put his well-practiced mouth to new, more finesse-driven tasks. He plunged down on Shinsou’s cock as people called to him, passing the pair on the way to class, adding their own derisive comments. It hit the back of his throat, then continued on, amazing Neito at how dramatically Shinsou had grown.
“Don’t wait up,” Shinsou called to his retreating friends, getting a few snickers in return. Neito could feel his fingers opening and closing over his scalp, lightly scratching him with his nails. Was he anxious? About skipping class, or being with him?
He hoped it was him. He hoped Shinsou’s heart was beating as hard as his was, just from the opportunity to finally be together like this.
A moment later, the tentative clenching of his hands turned into a smooth stroke, brushing Neito’s bangs out of his face, affording them both a better look at each other’s expressions as Neito continued deepthroating him. He hollowed his cheeks, then felt them bust out comedically as Shinsou rutted forward, thrusting into his throat of his own free will this time.
Shinsou laughed low, and there was a softness in his brow now as Neito cocked his head around his dick. “Man, I’ve been looking forward to this,” he mumbled, “Didn’t wanna… be with you if you were gonna show me up, but now that it’s happening…”
Showing him up? Neito cocked his eyebrow, tempted to pop off and ask until Shinsou’s hands circled around to cup his jaw, pulling him off and away with a gentleness Neito hadn’t expected. There was a string of spittle still connecting him with Shinsou’s dick, and when Shinsou’s thumbs stroked around his swollen, abused lips, the path his fingers drew tingled with fire.
“Still glad I got a little experience beforehand,” he admitted, “because how am I supposed to ruin you without it?”
Neito shivered. He felt words buzzing on his tongue, but before he could speak them Shinsou cut him off once again. “Bet this is one place your big fat mouth really shines, eh?” he teased.
“Yes,” Neito breathed, only mildly disappointed when he didn’t feel the haze of brainwashing pass over him again. Shinsou smirked, but his eyes stayed soft.
“But I have something else in mind,” he said, casual as anything. Neito frowned a little as he backed away and offered him a hand.
He stood willingly, but couldn’t keep himself from asking, “And what might that be?”
“I wonder,” Shinsou mused aloud. Before Neito could question him further, he was pressing forward, almost meeting Neito’s chest with his own before he stumbled backward, struggling to catch his breath with Shinsou so close. No, he wasn’t as intimidating in physicality as Tetsutetsu, but at least Tetsutetsu had a friendly, straightforward, easy-to-read jock demeanor that permeated his being even when he was at his most sadistic. Shinsou…
Much as Neito liked to believe they were two peas in a pod, Shinsou was very hard to read when his face started looking like that.
The backs of Neito’s knees hit the bench, but Shinsou didn’t stop coming at him, and before long he was catching himself with his hands on the bench behind him as Shinsou towered over him, a dark smirk on his face.
“Spread for me,” he said in that low, grating voice that had had Neito falling hard from the start. He obeyed, hoping Shinsou wouldn’t hear the high sound that formed in his throat as he leaned over him, peering down at Neito’s erection in his dress pants and aligning his own over top of it. An odd mix of emotions spiked through Neito’s system at the visual, the easy comparison between the cock he’d had the nerve to deride and his own. Was it guilt? Shame? Or just pure, unbridled hunger for a cock that so easily dwarfed his?
Shinsou rutted down into him, cutting his thoughts off with a sneer. “I like this outfit of yours,” he teased, leaning close enough that Neito was left cursing the thick layers between them. “What kind of cocky ass goes into battle in a three-piece suit? Makes me wanna ruin your clothes almost as badly as I wanna ruin you.”
“Please,” Neito huffed, peering down between their bodies at the point of contact, at Shinsou’s taut stomach curling carefully above his own so that their cocks remained the only part where Neito could feel him. He clenched his thighs together desperately, just craving even that much contact, and Shinsou clicked his tongue.
“Can’t taunt me that long without getting a little punishment,” he reasoned, rutting downward again. Neito squirmed against him as much as he could manage before Shinsou forced his thighs apart once more. Before he could voice an objection, however, Shinsou was reaching down and placing his hands over Neito’s zipper and cocking his eyebrow as if in question.
“Yes,” Neito blurted, jerking his hips against his will, “Yes, please.”
Shinsou chuckled lowly and slid Neito’s zipper down, easing his slacks down his hips. It didn’t even take a single touch for Neito to inhale in sweet bliss as his cock finally escaped its prison, exposed to the plain air at last. Shinsou didn’t go far, however, and left his slacks sitting just under the cleft of his ass before he held out his hand.
“Lube,” he ordered, and without bothering to think it through Neito was scrambling for the packet in his pocket. He knew his folly the moment Shinsou laughed.
“Really turning into that kind of hero, eh?” he teased, and Neito felt his cheeks grow warm.
“Miss Midnight -” he snapped, only to find himself drifting, enveloped in familiar fuzzy warmth.
“Good boy,” Shinsou murmured, and a million miles away Neito could hear a package tearing and cool slick fingers probing his hole. “How nice of you to keep yourself clean like this,” he continued on, echoing around Neito’s dazed head, “you little slut.”
In spite of himself, in spite of Shinsou’s brainwashing, Neito hummed his assent. This was the role he’d taken on for himself, the role he’d been assigned. It was his calling, as Miss Midnight had said, letting her perfectly manicured fingers sink into him much like Shinsou’s were now. He loved this, offering himself up to anyone who would ask.
Although, he supposed he’d never quite considered how that may have alienated the one he actively wanted. He squinted up at him through the fog, shining like a beacon, only for it to seem as if he was zooming closer impossibly fast as his fingers grazed Neito’s prostate.
“Fuck,” he gasped, feeling his sweating palms slipping on the surface of the wooden bench, threatening to leave him sprawling on his back. He bent his elbows, trying to soften the transition, and had to clap a hand over his mouth as Shinsou circled his prostate again.
“Interesting,” Shinsou hummed, fingering him with a needling intensity - persistent enough that Neito felt jolts of delight passing through him at every movement, but gentle enough that he was still rutting up, up, seeking something to relieve him. “I’d have thought with how many visitors you’ve had in this slutty little hole, you’d never snap out of it just from a couple fingers.”
“Fuck me,” Neito demanded, breathing sharp and fast. “Please.”
“Attitude like that, I hardly think you deserve it,” Shinsou snorted, but in spite of his words Neito could feel his fingers slipping out of him. He inhaled sharply as he curled them into his prostate one last time, then retreated, drawing his slick, warm fingers over the curve of Neito’s ass. He left a wet stream with his movements, a cool trail that prickled along his skin in a way that distracted from - and contributed to - the aching in his cock.
“Loosen up,” Shinsou murmured, and in another moment he’d pulled Neito’s slacks off the rest of the way and situated himself between his legs like he belonged there, looking for all the world like a king on his throne. It was all the better, seeing Shinsou’s cock arcing above his own. Neito adjusted his tie, feeling heat creeping up his neck. This was the moment.
“You,” Shinsou grunted, holding himself at the base and lining himself up, “Are going to be - the most wonderful cocksleeve.”
Neito had to suppress a gasp at that, but couldn’t follow through when Shinsou began pushing in. He was girthy, easily as thick around as Tetsutetsu, and it was then that his arms finally gave out, leaving him spread on the bench, reaching behind and down in the desperate hope that he could perhaps get a grip on one of the legs before Shinsou got thrusting.
Shinsou gave him no such opportunity, however, and began pounding without preamble. He leaned over Neito, close enough that he could feel his hot breaths on his face and hear the throaty grunts he made as he fucked into him. Neito’s arms flew up before he could process the movement, grasping at Shinsou’s long-since-dried skin, feeling the tautness of his lean muscles stretched over him. He was firm and hard all over and Neito couldn’t resist the urge to wrap his legs around his backside, pressing what little bare skin he had into his newfound lover.
He could feel his suit jacket sliding on the polished wood of the bench with the force of every thrust and likewise felt just how much Shinsou was stretching him from inside. It was bliss and torture, feeling heat gathering under his cumbersome uniform, the usual wet heat of sex mingling with his ache to feel Shinsou all over him, to smell him and -
But then, Shinsou adjusted his angle, and Neito’s thought process was hardly articulate enough to lament much of anything anymore.
He rammed into Neito’s prostate with all the force of his substantial cock and all the power in his legs, sending white sparks exploding across his vision. Neito gasped with the force of the impact, clawing at Shinsou’s back as he filled him so completely, again and again, his brow furrowing as he soldiered on, his breaths coming in hot huffs that set Neito’s skin on fire.
He found the strength, somehow, to pull Shinsou down, to brush their lips together, however briefly, if only to feel their hot breaths mingling in the space between them. He caught Shinsou’s eye, dark, murky purple like a bruise, and bit his lip around a needy moan.
“I - was right,” Shinsou panted, moving downward, moving his lips wetly over Neito’s jugular as he felt himself clenching around him. “You’re the fucking perfect cocksleeve.”
Neito tightened his thighs, gripping Shinsou for dear life and letting out a needy sob. Shinsou didn’t seem to be done, however.
“Do you - ah - Do you like me?” he asked, and Neito was much too overwhelmed to question the timing.
“Yes!” he choked out.
“Will you date me?” Shinsou pressed on, and Neito could feel his hips slowing. He groaned his frustration - he was so close, already - and rutted upwards in futility.
“Yes, god, yes,” he whimpered.
There was another kiss to his throat, another purr of delight, but Neito couldn’t have missed his slow retreat, the backward movement as Shinsou removed himself from his hole. He clenched his legs tighter, as tight as he could make them, but that didn’t stop Shinsou.
He pressed Neito’s legs down and away, leaving Neito empty, sprawling and confused. Before long, however, Shinsou had worked his way up Neito’s body, straddling his refined suit jacket with a vindictive grin on his face.
“Well then,” he mused, jerking his cock, still slick with lube. “I suppose your classmates are gonna need a reminder who your heart belongs to, now.”
This, Neito understood. He accepted it with ease, closed his eyes to welcome Shinsou’s release, and bit his lip through the wet sound of Shinsou’s hand moving over his cock.
Then, there was warm and wet, just meeting the lower half of his chin, splattering over him with a familiar understated wet sound as Shinsou grunted through his orgasm. Neito sighed - happy and sated, but dreading the taunts he’d receive from his classmates after he’d made his way outside nonetheless.
He had a hunch, based on previous experience, but he reached for his own cock as if he meant to finish. A broader, firmer hand stopped him, just as he felt heat hovering above his face.
He opened his eyes, grinning up into Shinsou’s no-nonsense expression.
“You’d better not,” Shinsou tutted, speaking in a low, dangerous tone. “You’re late enough already.”
“I’m sure we won’t be missed.”
Shinsou gave him a skeptical tilt of his head, then pressed downward, letting their lips meet, just for a moment. “Good boys don’t cut class,” he said simply, then retreated, making for his locker. When Neito didn’t move, he cast a questioning look over his shoulder. “Don’t you have somewhere to be?”
Neito sighed, but smiled all the same. He retrieved his pants, stood, and made for the door, casting one last shy little grin over his shoulder.
For once, he couldn’t wait for his next chance to visit Class A.