Archive of Our Own ^beta

They’re still holding hands when they make their way into Tutor’s condo. Fighter doesn’t want to let go at all, even though they’re back now and he’ll have to leave for his own home eventually. He never wants to let go of Tutor’s hand. Their vacation is over, but Fighter doesn’t feel like that at all. It’s like they’re still inside their little bubble, cut off from everything else, from the rest of their lives. He knows that they’ll have to go back to facing that sooner rather than later. He actually feels excited about the prospect of having Tutor in his life now, fully, as his boyfriend.

But right now he wants to stay like this for as long as possible, with Tutor soft and sweet and all smiley, still high on the ocean breeze and sunshine. With their new-found intimacy and relationship, their physical closeness. Tutor’s I love you too still rings in his head at the most random of times. He squeezes Tutor’s fingers as the door closes behind them, a dopey smile on his face. Tutor giggles when he looks at Fighter, squeezes Fighter’s hand back firmly.

“Home sweet home,” Tutor says teasingly and makes to pull away from Fighter as they take off their shoes, but Fighter has no plans for letting that happen. He pulls Tutor back and into his chest, and once Tutor has let out a startled little yelp, Fighter presses him into the wall next to the front door, one arm holding Tutor in place, the other propped against the wall next to Tutor’s head. It’s reminiscing of so many earlier occasions, with Fighter leaning in close, hovering his face just mere centimeters away from Tutor’s, but this time he knows he’s allowed to, feels Tutor’s warmth against his hold, sees the other’s eyes open and clear and turning amused.

“Sweet indeed,” Fighter whispers after a moment too long of staring because Tutor’s eyes and his little grin are mesmerizing. Then he leans in for a kiss, and he doesn’t even try to keep it sweet or chaste.

Tutor lets out a little sound, maybe in surprise at the touch, maybe in surprise at the intensity, but Fighter doesn’t stop to think about it, just swallows it right down and goes in deeper for more. He feels Tutor’s hands come up to grip his shoulders, cup his neck. Fighter strengthens his hold around Tutor’s waist to maneuver them a little better, until he has one thigh presses in between Tutor’s legs, right up against the other’s groin. It startles a gasp out of Tutor and makes him break the kiss, makes him grip hard into Fighter’s hair, but it doesn’t deter Fighter in the slightest. He simply goes on to press open-mouthed kisses down Tutor’s neck, to lick against his pulse point and nibble on that one spot he’s learned will make Tutor let out some of the most delicious whimpers. Then, Tutor pulls him back up by the hold he has on Fighter’s hair and reconnects their lips.

Fighter tangles his own fingers into Tutor’s hair as he slowly tries to grind his thigh forwards into where he can already feel Tutor’s dick fill out. He doesn’t expect the whine coming from Tutor and it makes him curse under his breath, makes him suck on Tutor’s lip and grind down a little firmer, a little quicker, chasing more of Tutor’s sounds.

Tutor’s hips start rolling and grinding, and soon they’ve found a rhythm of rutting their hips together haphazardly, so both of their dicks rub up against the other somehow. It feels amazing, even through the fabric of their pants, and Fighter, already delirious with Tutor’s scent and lips and moans, has a short lucid moment in which he’s almost embarrassed at the prospect of them coming in their pants like that. But then Tutor keens pretty much directly into his ear, and all thoughts are wiped from his mind.

“Phi,” Tutor gasps out at some point. There’s pleasure clouding his eyes, his legs are trembling. But he’s assertive, and he pushes Fighter back and himself away from the wall. “Phi, bed. Now.”

Any other time, Tutor’s ineloquence would have Fighter chuckling, but right now there’s nothing he wants to do more than follow that order. Tutor pushes him back and into the wall opposite of the one they just defiled, but their kissing and grinding doesn’t last for long, instead Tutor pulls away again and urgently leads them through the condo and into his bedroom. They stumble into each other in their haste, can’t keep away from each other for long enough and end up with Fighter pressed into the doorframe of Tutor’s bedroom, Tutor licking into his mouth dirtily.

“Bed, now,” Fighter repeats Tutor’s earlier words breathily and pushes the other backwards, until they finally make it to the bed. They let themselves fall on it; it’s by far not as spacious or comfortable as the ones they’d slept in these past couple of days, but it’s all theirs.

“Up,” Tutor demands and grips Fighter’s shirt to pull it up and over his head and arms. Fighter follows suit and takes Tutor’s shirt off, the wide expanse of soft skin that’s revealed taking his breath away once more. He gets his hands back on Tutor, lets them roam, lets his fingers pinch and tease around a nipple, before Tutor gets with the program and lets his hands and lips touch and tease Fighter’s body to his heart’s content.

It’s not much later when Fighter finds himself laying down flat on his back, his hands gripping Tutor’s hair and the bedsheets tightly as the other is laving his tongue all across Fighter’s abs, his tongue coming dangerously close to where Fighter’s pulsing dick is still lying constrained.

“Tor,” he breathes out, asking for something but not capable of putting it into proper words. Tutor seems to understand, though, because he sucks hard on a patch of skin right next to the waistband of Fighter’s pants, leaves it wet and tingling once he detaches his lips and leans up, and then goes to take Fighter’s pants off. It takes a lot of Fighter’s willpower to not moan once his dick springs free, but it’s of no use anyways, because the moment Tutor grabs his dick, it is punched right out of him.

His head falls back and his eyes close automatically as Tutor’s hand drags up his shaft, but then Fighter realizes he can’t see Tutor, can’t watch him, and he pries his eyes back open and somehow manages to lean up onto his elbows. Tutor looks mesmerized by Fighter’s dick, and if he weren’t so into it, Fighter might feel a little embarrassed at the scrutiny. But he doesn’t get the chance to, because he himself is captivated by the image Tutor paints: The other is kneeling next to Fighter’s body, has his fingers closed around Fighter’s dick and watches how he can make the foreskin gather around the tip of it before pulling it back down with his slow strokes. It’s by far not the same intense stimulation that Fighter got with their earlier rutting and grinding, but it’s pleasurable in its own respect. It makes his abs and thighs tremble either way, makes his heart thump heavily against his ribcage.

“Tor,” he says once again, urgent, a hint desperate, says Tutor’s name like he’s pleading for something.

“Yeah?” Tutor goes, and his eyes glance up at Fighter for a moment before fixating down and onto Fighter’s dick again. He speeds up his movements, just slightly, goes a bit more steadily, squeezes a bit more tightly. At one upstroke he glides his thumb across the tip, and it startles a low groan out of Fighter. Tutor does at again, and again, and with every time Fighter’s sounds go breathier. Fighter moans loudly once Tutor presses his thumb into the slit.

“Is it good?” Tutor asks, just like the teasing brat he is.

“’s good,” Fighter manages to say. He sees the mischievous glint in Tutor’s eyes, sees the open grin and the flush in his cheeks, and then he feels his belly clench hard. He’ll come any moment now, from a dry hand job, all because it’s Tutor, and because he has Tutor now, and because Tutor wants this and likes this. Fighter has never before experienced such pleasure, not before he learned how Tutor’s touch feels, how his voice sounds, how his warmth tastes. “I’ll come.”

He practically hears the cheeky grin in Tutor’s voice as the other retorts, “Good, that’s the point.” But Tutor sounds breathy too, his voice a little shaky.

The knowledge that Tutor is just as affected from just jerking Fighter off is probably what tips Fighter over the edge. He comes with an aborted groan and flops fully back onto the mattress, his breathing coming in choppy and irregularly as his dick spurts out pearlescent streaks of cum across his own belly and Tutor’s hand. Tutor strokes him through it, apparently not fazed by the cum staining his fingers in the slightest.

“That was hot,” Tutor comments as Fighter goes to grab his wrist once the stimulation turns too much for his oversensitive cock. Fighter doesn’t have enough breath to let out a full snort, but it sounds like something similar.

“Yeah,” he agrees once he regains the ability to think and speak. “That was good. Hot.”

He watches, still a little out of breath, as Tutor leans to the bedside table to grab some tissues to clean Fighter up with. He does so gently but thoroughly, wiping every drop before any of it can dry fully.

“Thank you,” Fighter whispers once Tutor is done. He grabs Tutor by the arm as the other makes to get off the bed and holds him back. He’ still lying down and watches Tutor for just a moment. They’re both completely still, only connected where Fighter’s fingers are wrapped around Tutor’s forearm, and yet it still feels like they’re sharing their heartbeat with each other. In the next moment, Fighter pulls Tutor closer and leans up so they can connect their lips in a kiss.

Kissing Tutor is a bit like fresh water and clean air, Fighter reckons somewhere in the back of his mind. As nice as it was to come from Tutor’s hand, and as nice as it is to have the other watch him this closely, he’s missed Tutor’s lips on his own. Maybe this is a problem.

It’s really not. Nothing about this is a problem, he decides easily.

Fighter pulls Tutor fully on top of himself, hisses where Tutor’s pants—Why is he not naked yet?—rub against Fighter’s dick, grabs Tutor’s head with one hand cupping his neck and the other tangling into Tutor’s hair, and licks deeply into Tutor’s mouth. He eagerly swallows down any and all sounds Tutor lets out, doesn’t allow Tutor to reposition them at all and just pulls him in closer, kisses him deeper. Tutor’s hands grab at Fighter’s shoulders and his neck, run over the prominent veins there, tickle against Fighter’s collarbone and stroke through sweat-damp hair.

Fighter flips them suddenly, grins at the startled little yelp Tutor lets out, and goes back in to kiss Tutor some more. Fighter tries to hold himself up and not crush the other underneath him, but Tutor wraps his arms around Fighter’s shoulders and pulls him down until their fronts are pressed together. Fighter is sure his skin is hot to the touch, but Tutor’s seems to be blazing against his own.

He leans up on his forearms, struggles against the pressure of Tutor’s hold trying to pull him back down. He looks down at Tutor, at his hazy eyes, the pink glow in his cheeks, the puffy, plush lips.

“Phi,” Tutor complains with a pout. It does things to Fighter’s heart.

“I know,” he says. He knows nothing, really, only that this boy underneath him holds his heart, and that it’s insane to even think that Tutor lets himself be this vulnerable with Fighter, and that Fighter—repressed, scared, fucked up Fighter—managed to somehow get over himself and make things right enough for this to happen. “I know, baby.”

Fighter leans down and presses a faint kiss to Tutor’s lips, presses another one to Tutor’s nose, to Tutor’s eyebrow, his eyelid, stamps a few across his cheek, until he returns back to Tutor’s mouth. He feels Tutor smile against his lips, but he doesn’t let it pull him back into more, deeper kisses. Instead, he leans up and away from Tutor even more, until he can sit back on his legs and assess their position.

Tutor makes a dissatisfied sound and looks nothing short of scandalized at Fighter leaving him like that, but as soon as Fighter leans down, further down, to lick around Tutor’s navel, the other suddenly doesn’t seem to really mind that much anymore. Fighter can feel Tutor’s fingers tangle in his hair, and he grins against where he nipped at a bit of skin when Tutor keens at the sensation. Fighter doesn’t spend too much time with it, though, and lets his lips and tongue travel lower and lower until he hits the waistband of Tutor’s pants. He doesn’t even try to make it look any sort of seductive or sexy as he opens them and pulls them down Tutor’s legs, because he is way too impatient and would probably just make a fool of himself.

He comes to kneel in between Tutor’s legs once he discarded of the pants somewhere to the side, and he is absolutely fascinated by the view of Tutor’s pink, heavy cock laying to the side across his hip. He’s staring, he knows he is, but he has to take a moment to just take it all in once again.

“Phi,” Tutor complains, reaches out a hand as if to grab Fighter’s own and lead it down to where he wants to be touched most.

“Yeah,” Fighter mumbles out thoughtlessly and finally goes in to wrap a hand around Tutor’s shaft. It’s not the first time he’s touching it, holding and squeezing, but it’s still a bit overwhelming. It feels hot in his grip, the tip is already a deep red. He’s made Tutor wait for a while. Time to make up for it.

Judging from the startled gasp Tutor lets out, he hadn’t expected Fighter to lean down and take the tip of Tutor’s dick into his mouth. A moan follows immediately after, and Fighter laps it up like he laps at the head with small little kitten-licks before engulfing it with his lips again. First, he’s merely suckling at it, feeling the heat from it against his tongue, tasting taut skin. Then he tries to take it a bit deeper, tries to suck in earnest. He pushes his knees back and out until he comes to lie on his stomach in between Tutor’s legs, propped up on his elbows. One of his hands splays across Tutor’s belly, the other stays wrapped around the base of Tutor’s cock.

“Fuck, Phi,” Tutor breathes out. It motivates Fighter to sink his mouth a little lower, lave his tongue against the underside of Tutor’s cock, press it into the thick vein there. Fighter revels in the moans and gasps Tutor lets out, in the whispered curses, in how Tutor says his name in the midst of it all.

Fighter is sloppy in his movements, can’t go down too far or hard without feeling that uncomfortable pricking of his gag reflex in the back of his throat. But he’s enthusiastic, he loves the feel of Tutor’s dick, the weight of it, how heavily it slides against his tongue. He likes the taste, Tutor’s skin and sweat not exactly pleasant, but just uniquely Tutor. It doesn’t take long for Fighter’s jaw to ache and he goes back to licking at the tip for a bit, pressing his tongue into the slit as Tutor has done with his fingers to Fighter’s own before. He looks up at Tutor every now and again, sees how the other looks at him with wide eyes, sees how he then has his head thrown back and turns it from side to side in a frenzy.

Fighter knows he’s not exactly good at this. But he’s been curious, wanted to try it, wants to try it on Tutor over and over if the other will let him. What better way to learn that by doing it? With all the sounds Tutor makes, his groans and moans, a gasp at a particularly daring press of Fighter’s tongue, a high whine when Fighter sucks Tutor’s dick down again, Fighter doesn’t think Tutor is too concerned with his rather subpar technique for now.

Fighter feels Tutor’s muscles start to tremble underneath where he still has his fingers splayed out wide across Tutor’s belly and Tutor’s fingers almost simultaneously tangle in his hair. Fighter rejoices in the grip Tutor has on him, in the knowledge that his mouth can bring Tutor this close to completion.

“Phi,” Tutor wheezes out. A short look up at the sound and the movement of Tutor underneath Fighter’s hand, and Fighter moans at the sight of Tutor arching his back up in pleasure. The vibrations of Fighter’s voice around Tutor’s cock seem to be what does it for Tutor, because the grip in Fighter’s hair gets painful, but Fighter refuses to pull off. Tutor whines high and long in his throat as he comes, Fighter closing his mouth back around the tip and collecting the cum on his tongue. It’s a lot, in fact it’s too much, and it dribbles out and around Tutor’s dick, but Fighter swallows what he can and eagerly laps at Tutor’s cock until the other is spent and pushes Fighter’s face away.

Fighter licks his lips as he sits up. The taste of cum is not the most pleasant, slightly bitter if anything, but the way Tutor now stares up at him, laying back and breathing heavily and still wheezing out every couple of breaths—totally worth it. Also, Fighter knows that he’ll not mind doing this again. Including the swallowing.

“Phi,” Tutor presses out, and he sounds almost wonderous. “Phi, what the fuck.”

Fighter grins down at him, smug and satisfied, and then he slowly comes onto all fours and hovers over Tutor. He hums and leans onto his elbows, leans down so he’s a bit closer to Tutor. “You liked it?” he asks. He’s got an idea of how much Tutor enjoyed it, but he does want to hear the other say it.

“Phi,” Tutor repeats, “What the fuck. You can’t just do that.”

Fighter’s grin grows wider. “And why not?”

“You just can’t,” Tutor says decidedly and lifts his arms up to wrap back around Fighter’s shoulders.

“Just did,” Fighter retorts amusedly, struggling for a moment longer against Tutor trying to pull him down.

“Yeah,” Tutor goes, and his eyes go wide again, as if in awe. He blinks up at Fighter, all teasing and playfulness suddenly gone. “It was so good.”

Good seems to be their way of trying to describe the otherworldly feeling of indescribably mind-blowing.

At the words, Fighter stops trying to hold himself up and instead willingly follows the pull to lean down and reconnect their lips. Tutor hums into the kiss, maybe at the lingering taste of his own cum. Fighter sighs against Tutor’s lips, wholly satisfied and happy to be back up here, kissing Tutor and holding him and just being this close to him. This intimacy brings a special sort of warmth to Fighter’s heart, his entire being, and he is sure he didn’t even know he was a starving man before he got the first taste of it.

“Want to take a shower?” he asks after a few moments of them just kissing, unhurried and almost lazy.

“Good idea,” Tutor sighs out and then presses a yawn into Fighter’s shoulder. It makes Fighter stop for a moment, and then he turns giddy. It makes him realize that this is not their bubble of vacation anymore—this is reality. This is him and Tutor, being at home, being boyfriends, being parts of each other’s lives now. It’s more than he even imagined back when he was still scared and pining, more than what he had let himself hope for. It feels good. It feels so good.