Chapter 3
Hiro felt kind of bad. He’d just been a bit bored and lonely; it was the weekend, and it was raining, and there was an awesome game he’d just bought that he wanted someone to watch him play. He’d told Morgan that it was their one-month anniversary, even though he knew for a fact that it was a few days off yet, but he hoped that his boyfriend didn’t keep track of the dates as well as he did.
He hadn’t really texted Morgan at ten o’clock on a Sunday morning and expected him to come around to his place (and with barely any notice) in anything more than sweat pants, but the guy had greatly exceeded all expectations. Not only was Morgan properly dressed, but he also came bearing sweet anniversary gifts of wine and chocolates and gummy bears.
And then he had to listen to Morgan apologise profusely for not knowing that it was their one-month anniversary. And suddenly Hiro felt like such a dick. He didn’t even have pants on when he opened the door; he was just wearing boxes and a faded old shirt, and the state of his gravity-defying bed-hair made him look like he’d been electrocuted. He was a total mess compared to the tall, suave, and surprisingly romantic man standing before him.
Hiro didn’t really know what to say, watching Morgan slowly look him up and down. “I uh… I know you don’t dress up that much,” Morgan said, smirking. “But I thought maybe you’d make a bit more of an effort today.”
“Sorry,” Hiro groaned, waving him inside and closing the door before the neighbours saw. He took Morgan through to the lounge where the battle music to his game still blared, and he frantically turned it down. He crawled into a stiff pair of jeans hanging from his drying rack and tried to explain himself. “I’m really sorry – I think I gave you the impression that I was actually expectingsomething when, really, I just kinda… wanted to hang out.”
“Ah.” Morgan gave a nod and set down the presents. He opened out his arms and shrugged, like it didn’t bother him at all. “We can hang out. You wanted to play that with me?” he asked, motioning to the paused game on the widescreen TV.
Hiro clicked his tongue. He at least sounded very regretful as he pointed out, “It’s uh… a one-player game…”
“So you want me to… watch you play it?”
“Yeeeeaaah… But – it’s so fucking cool!”
Morgan huffed, but he was still smiling. “Sure,” he agreed as he grabbed two glasses from the kitchen. Before Morgan had even taken a seat next to his boyfriend on the couch, Hiro had already picked back up the controller and resumed his game.
A few hours passed by so easily, now that Hiro had some company. They talked about their work, they talked about the latest breakthroughs in robotics, and they talked about the game, all the while stuffing their faces with wine, chocolates, and gummy bears. Hiro got tipsy enough that his reflexes slowed and he started to play the game badly, and Morgan got tipsy enough that he started loudly criticising Hiro for his bad gameplay.
Hiro wasn’t entirely sure how it had happened; at some point Morgan had yelled “you’re doing it all wrong – just give me the controller” and they had wrestled on the couch until Hiro had his controller back in his hands. He was now sitting on Morgan’s lap, probably to keep him pinned there so he couldn’t make another attack. Morgan’s arms were around Hiro’s waist, originally to lie in wait and snatch the controller back, just as Hiro became captivated by the game again, but they seemed to have given up since.
Hiro had hardly noticed that Morgan had been so quiet and still beneath him for so long. He’d been playing his new game for something like five hours straight now, and he could already tell that this was a game he was going to be losing a lot of sleep to. For the next week.
Needless to say, he hadn’t been expecting Morgan to kiss his neck.
Hiro winced at first, but it didn’t seem to be affecting his gameplay, so Hiro allowed it. He sat, perfectly still on Morgan’s lap, his mind torn between descending into the next dungeon without getting killed, and the extremely pleasant sensation at his neck. Morgan kept it up for as long as it took Hiro to get hard, but Hiro didn’t acknowledge it. He didn’t draw attention to himself. He just kept on playing the game, ignoring it.
And then his boyfriend’s hands started to wander. They started just on Hiro’s sides, squeezing him and then not squeezing him gently, and then one reached up into his hairline and started to rub long fingers through his bed-hair. Hiro’s eyes flickered down, just for a half-second, to see what the other hand was doing now. It seemed to be just resting there on his jean-clad thigh. As if it had an idea of where it wanted to go next.
He died then, in-game. His character, for whatever reason, just slipped off a cliff and fell to a pitiless death at the bottom of a chasm. It was a stupid way to die. It shouldn’t have happened. But the respawn time was just long enough for Morgan to ask, “Can I jerk you off?”
The question had caused every muscle in Hiro’s body to tighten. He tried to breathe normally, but the harder he tried, the worse the less normal he sounded. He was sure that Morgan could feel his blood pumping fast beneath his lips on his skin…
“No.”
His character respawned again and Hiro started mashing the controller so hard that there was a real chance he was going to jam one of them, and lose some essential capabilities. He waited as Morgan’s hands retracted from his hair and from his jeans, and came to rest lightly on his back. Morgan leaned away so that his chin and cheek were no longer on Hiro’s shoulder.
“Sorry,” Morgan murmured, sounding so apologetic. So ashamed.
It was a sharp, bittersweet feeling that soared through Hiro then. His boyfriend’s complete readiness to stop when asked just made Hiro want him to keep going.
Maybe, he thought to himself, over the distracted and hectic haze of his conflicted thoughts, Maybe I could start practicing what I now preach.
“Um…” Hiro cleared his throat. “You respect me, right?”
Morgan didn’t answer immediately. “…Of course I do,” he said, and he sounded stunned. Like he couldn’t quite believe he’d just been asked such a thing. “Of course I respect you.”
“I don’t mean like, as an esteemed engineer or anything,” Hiro said. His eyes never left the widescreen, his fingers never missed a beat. “I mean respect as in–“
“I know what you mean, Hiro,” Morgan assured. He took his own hands away from Hiro entirely, as if he thought that was the problem. “It’s OK. I was… just trying to make you feel good. I’m sorry.”
Normally this would’ve been the point in his relationships where Hiro decided to break up with his partner. But he wanted to take it in a different direction this time.
He started to relax, and let his hips slowly writhe like they wanted to over ten minutes ago. His face felt so hot, his head so fuzzy. “You can… touch me.”
“What?”
Morgan was confused. Of course he was. Hiro knew he had to be clearer. He had to swallow back his embarrassment and use that little gift humans had: communication. “U-Um… You can, jerk me off.” His voice was still petrified. He had to be more… enthusiastic. More believable. “If the offer is still open, I mean.”
“…Hiro, are you sure?” Morgan leaned forward, his chest flat against Hiro’s back, and he craned his neck to gauge Hiro’s expression. “I’m a little lost…”
Don’t be, Hiro wanted to say, but couldn’t. He wanted to kiss Morgan, to show him that it was OK, that it was all OK, that he trusted him, but he couldn’t quite tear his attention away from the game. He just watched his character pick up notes only to drop them again moments later, because there was no way he was going to be able to actually read and digest any information right now.
He had to be honest, without being too honest. “I’ve never… No one’s ever… I haven’t done anything like this before.”
“Like…? Oh.”
Morgan seemed to get it without needing much prompting. “Yeah…”
“…Really? But…” There was a light shudder underneath him, and Hiro really hoped that Morgan wasn’t laughing right now. “Aren’t you like, thirty years old?”
“Fuck you,” Hiro said, but there was no heart behind it. He couldn’t help smiling a little. They were starting to talk again, like normal – like Hiro wasn’t about to bust right out of his pants and could feel his boyfriend’s erection dig into his lower, lower back. It was easier to talk to him when they were still laughing and joking like this. “So fucking what if I was, huh?”
“How’ve you managed all these years?” Morgan’s hands returned around Hiro’s waist, and Hiro almost died in-game again just to see that they were resting painfully, tantalisingly close to where he most wanted them to be. He rocked his hips and played more furiously in his frustration. “Are you just not really all that interested, or…?”
“No, the embarrassingly large collection of sex toys I keep under my bed helps me cope without the touch of another human,” Hiro joked.
“Embarrassingly large?” Morgan’s voice was just a whisper now. Hiro could feel Morgan’s breath on his ear and he just shivered. His back actually started to arch. “How many toys would constitute an embarrassingly large collection?”
“More than one,” Hiro breathed, and he could hear in his voice just how desperate he was. He was so excruciatingly hard now. It was getting so ridiculously hard to play the game without dying every few seconds, and Morgan had barely even touched him.
“You’ve got me so interested now,” Morgan laughed breathlessly, right in his ear, and Hiro wondered if his body might be melting. Melting and on fire. “Can we check out your sex toys…?”
“Uhn…”
Hiro didn’t know what kind of sound he’d uttered just then – he didn’t know and he didn’t care. His eyes closed and he bit down hard on his bottom lip and he moved his hips up and down, again and again, senselessly trying to get the friction he wanted – he needed. His body heaved and rolled and pressed back onto his boyfriend with urgent desire. His head was just a mess.
The controller must’ve slipped from his hands then because something loud clattered to the floor.
Suddenly Morgan was holding his waist, like he thought Hiro was going to slip right off him. “Easy,” Morgan breathed, soothing and erotic, “we’ll go at your own pace. Tell me what you want me to do.”
Oh God.
“Touch me,” Hiro whined, and Morgan quickly followed his impatient demands – but no matter how quick it was, it wasn’t ever going to be quick enough. Morgan was shaking too as he fought open the button and zip on Hiro’s jeans, and Hiro assisted him in pulling them down just far enough for Morgan to reach in and wrap his hand around his throbbing erection. Upon contact, Hiro threw his head back and cried and his body arched with impending orgasm.
It didn’t take him more than another several seconds to come. Hiro trembled, his cries coming out in short, choked stops and starts, his nails digging into whatever they could find and hold. He was pressing his back hard into the couch, his hips almost lifting right off. He was vaguely aware that he’d made a mess of his shirt, and he thought that meant that his orgasm would be over, but it just went on and on and on and on. He’d never been caught in the white-hot throes of ecstasy for so long in his entire life…
It was great.
He finally started to come down from what had been starting to look like a never-ending high, and Morgan eased his grip a little, giving Hiro a few last little pumps. Hiro jerked so violently that he wondered from the small “ow” behind him if he’d accidentally smacked his shoulder into Morgan’s chin or something. He started to laugh, and he sounded just as hysterically happy as he felt.
“S-Sorry,” he got out, shaking like never before. He felt so good right now that he had to wonder if he was still going. “F-F-Fuck… Hah…”
“Yeah, you…” Morgan swallowed audibly, and his mouth sounded dry and sticky. “Really seemed to enjoy yourself…”
Hiro was starting to feel conscious again, to feel his presence again. To feel his surroundings. He noticed that his boyfriend’s breathing was pitching between pants, and the pain in his lower back was worse than ever. Despite that, Morgan was still doing post-coital aftercare; he was wiping Hiro’s shirt down with a tissue and asking if he felt good and kissing him affectionately in places that weren’t so tormenting.
Hiro couldn’t believe it. He was so overwhelmed with emotion in the awakening realisation of what had just happened that he thought he was going to cry.
No, that wasn’t just speculation. He was crying. His next breath was a shuddering, whimpering inhale, and tears began to leak from his eyes.
Well… Everything had been great up until the spontaneous crying.
Hiro’s first thought had been how embarrassing he was – how he was surely killing Morgan’s boner faster than he could try to return the favour, which he really wanted to. But Morgan didn’t seem to think Hiro was being embarrassing at all. No, he was alarmed and terrified.
It was the most frustrating thing – OK, the second most frustrating thing in the world for Hiro: trying to stop crying enough to tell his fretful boyfriend that he was happy.
“Hiro,” Morgan moaned, throwing his arms around his crying boyfriend and shooshing him frantically. “Fuck – Hiro, what’s wrong? Was it me? Did I – D-Did I do something fucking awful just now? You gotta tell me – please. I… I-I’m so sorry.”
Hiro shook his head a no, but it would’ve had more substance if he could actually manage to say something, to assure Morgan that he hadn’t just done a terrible thing. There was a sane person in there, somewhere, trying to get out and be heard. He was crying and laughing at the same time – not that Morgan could parse any difference between them.
“No,” he managed to get out between sobs. He tried to think of just how devastated his boyfriend must’ve been feeling to see him in this state so suddenly, and it seemed to have a strong, sobering effect on him. Well, they both seemed pretty sober by now. Hiro calmed down, and he was calm enough to finally turn and face his boyfriend.
God, did Morgan look distraught.
“Morg,” he began, and Morgan was too distressed to even incessantly remind Hiro that he absolutely hated being called Morg. Hiro smiled and hoped that being an ugly crier didn’t run in the family. “Th-That. Was. Great. You did nothing wrong. OK? That was amazing.”
Morgan didn’t really seem to buy it. “…Then why are you crying,” he demanded to know.
It was a fair enough question. But Hiro couldn’t tell him the truth. He couldn’t tell Morgan that that had been the first, from start to finish, consensual sexual contact he’d ever had with another person. It was just some flirting and a bit of foreplay and a hand-job, but it had all meant… so fucking much to him. More than Morgan would ever know.
Just thinking about it made Hiro want to cry and never stop.
Morgan finally muted that god-awful battle music. He took up a hand and held one side of Hiro’s face. He murmured, quiet and plaintive, “Hiro…”
“Just hold me,” Hiro whimpered back, and Morgan didn’t ask any more questions and he didn’t make any excuses to leave. He just did as Hiro asked. He helped Hiro off his lap and gently lay next to him, along on couch. Morgan stayed curled up behind him for what felt like at least half an hour, while Hiro alternated between crying silently and crying uncomfortably loud. Morgan just held him, shooshing him whenever he got too loud. Whispering helpless little things like “it’s OK, you’re gonna be OK” whenever he got too quiet.
For once, Hiro had been in control.