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After Hours

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     It’s been a long day. They’re all long days where Doppo is concerned, but the broken coffee machine hadn’t helped matters, and the copy machine had jammed again, just like it always does when Doppo tries to use it. By the end of it all, Doppo can hardly think straight. The figures on his ancient monitor never end, and when he blinks he can still see them imprinted on his eyelids, endless lines of dates and figures that start to lose meaning as the hours drift on. 

     Doppo already feels awful, because of course he got called in on his one day off this week. His boss has it out for him after he accidentally typed the wrong dates on an entire stack of forms that his coworker had dumped on him, and he had ended up having to cancel a date with Jakurai. Dates between just the two of them are hard enough to come by as it is, and Doppo had managed to ruin his chances to see Jakurai completely. Go figure. 

     He’s so deep in his reverie of self loathing that the sensation of his phone buzzing in his pocket causes Doppo to let out a very undignified yelp. His cheeks burn as he avoids the swiveling heads of his coworkers. Normally, he wouldn’t dare to check his phone during work. The few times that he had ventured to try, his boss had caught him, and he’d end up staying three hours past closing instead of his usual two. Though… What if Hifumi accidentally set the apartment on fire? What if there’s a warrant out for Doppo’s arrest, and somebody is trying to warn him? What if there’s a warrant out for Hifumi’s arrest because he set the apartment on fire? Doppo manages to hold himself back for all of thirty seconds before he attempts to subtly glance at the screen under his desk. The sight of Jakurai’s name makes Doppo’s ears hot. He’s asking if he should pick Doppo up from work tonight. Doppo swallows. The last train will probably have left by the time Doppo gets out; It’s much too late for Jakurai to be driving all the way to Doppo’s office just to pick him up. 

     But... But Doppo wants him to. Doppo wants to see Jakurai more than anything, right now, as he sits in his uncomfortable chair and tries to ignore the humming of the computer that he swears he can hear at night when he’s trying to sleep. 

     He tells Jakurai that he’ll text him when he’s close to finishing and tosses his phone to the corner of his desk before he can see the reply. He really is the worst. A selfish asshole, taking advantage of his leader’s kindness like the scum he is. 

     Doppo tries to get his work done as quickly as possible for Jakurai’s sake, but the thought of seeing Jakurai at all keeps him distracted. He has to keep rereading the same product code about ten times, and he double, then triple checks all of the dates. By the time he texts Jakurai that he’s wrapping up, it’s already dark outside and in the office, and his co-workers have all trickled out. 

     He's really not expecting Jakurai to still be awake at this hour. It would serve Doppo right to have to walk home or stay at an all-night cafe, but the black car parked by the curb is an entirely welcome sight, despite the fact that he doesn’t deserve it at all.  

     Jakurai’s cologne always smells earthy with just a hint of spice, and as he settles into the leather passenger seat Doppo thinks that it might be the best smell in the entire world, certainly better than the stale-carpet smell of the office that surely sticks to his clothes, his shoes, his briefcase where it rests in his jittery lap. Jakurai is out here so late and it’s all Doppo’s fault, because he couldn’t say no to overtime and he agreed to help two colleagues with their reports because he can never stand up for himself. And now Jakurai’s car is going to smell like musty office, all because Doppo was selfish. His eyes can’t leave the briefcase, he doesn’t want to have to face Jakurai’s annoyed expression or his tired eyes that will let him know what a burden he is, as if he needs the reminder. It’s getting harder to breathe. 

     “I’m sorry you’re out this late because of me!” Doppo blurts, hands clenching where they sit in his lap,  “I’m sorry! I shouldn’t have stayed so late, It’s all because I couldn’t even get the dates right and my boss hates me so much and I didn’t want to cancel and you really should be asleep but I’m just the worst I alw-”

     “Doppo, I wanted to come.”

     Doppo almost bites his tongue with how quickly he stops himself at the sound of Jakurai’s voice, and his eyes flit up to Jakurai’s face instinctually. His expression is pensive, soft concern paints his delicate features, it was ridiculous to think he would have been annoyed. Doppo wants to open the passenger side door and run off into the night, never to return. He’s gone and killed the mood because that’s what he always does. Doppo the Mood Ruiner. Doppo the buzz kill, who can’t just enjoy a good thing when he has it, has to run it into the ground. 

     Jakurai’s hand settles on Doppo’s thigh, long fingers splaying out gently. Tangent forgotten, Doppo can feel the calming warmth through his slacks, and his cheeks heat up in sympathy. There’s a barely-there smile on Jakurai’s lips, benevolently reassuring. 

     “Doppo, your bad habit is acting up again,” Jakurai says gently, always so gently, with a firmness that Doppo has never stood a chance against. It wears down on the dark spaces of his mind like the ocean turns boulders into sand. The hand not on Doppo’s thigh finds its way to Doppo’s hair, brushes it out of his eyes. “Let me help you. Spend the night.” 

      Spending the night can really only mean one thing. If sleep is all Jakurai wants, he could just take them to Doppo and Hifumi’s place. Jakurai’s apartment is almost exclusively for one on one sessions. 

     “Oka- Okay.” Forcing the word out takes gargantuan effort, but Jakurai’s pleased smile makes some of the fear trickle away, retreating into the darker corners of Doppo’s brain. 

      “I want to try something new.” Jakurai sounds... excited? Mischievous? 

     Either way his energy is contagious, and it keeps Doppo from panicking during the car ride through Shinjuku, out of the car, through the parking lot, up the stairs, and in Jakurai’s bedroom as the door closes behind them. 

     Jakurai’s mouth is hot and enthusiastic on Doppo’s, his lips are soft and smooth as always, not rough and dry like Doppo’s must be. The feeling of Jakurai sucking on his tongue, gently nipping his bottom lip, should be enough of a distraction, but it has Doppo on edge. He can’t imagine his mouth tastes half as sweet as Jakurai’s either, most likely old coffee and the meat bun he had for lunch. He should have thought to use a mint before this. He should have- 

     Jakurai maneuvers one of his thighs between both of Doppo’s, grinds it confidently up against Doppo’s crotch, and Doppo’s train of thought is rather effectively derailed as his hips chase the pressure mindlessly. Jakurai’s mouth separates from his own with a slick sound that rings in Doppo’s ears. 

     “You’re going to have to take these off, is that alright?” Jakurai’s voice is just a touch rougher than it was before, a bit more breathless as he purposefully runs his hand up Doppo’s clothed thigh to palm at the growing bulge in the front. 

     “Y-yes, sensei.” Doppo stumbles with the first syllable in the rush to get the words out. He manages to answer correctly, at least. Jakurai gives a pleased hum that goes straight to Doppo’s dick, he can feel the aforementioned slacks getting that much tighter as jakurai moves away from him entirely. It takes a remarkable amount of focus not to chase Jakurai’s mouth with his own. He wants that warmth to evolope him whole. Instead, Doppo works on removing his slacks like he’s been told, hands fumbling in his haste. It’s impossible to miss the way Jakurai’s eyes rake over his hips, his thighs, his calves. His eyes work their way down as Doppo kicks the slacks away from his ankles. Predatory but not unkind. 

     “Underwear as well.” Jakurai adds like an afterthought, casual and nearly clinical. He’s watching Doppo take his briefs off, one hand under his chin, with a thoughtful smile playing on his spit-slick lips.   

     “Elbows on the desk.” Doppo blinks. Now this order is honestly a little surprising. The only other time they’ve done it on Jakurai’s desk, they’d had to clean off the more important paperwork, and pens ended up falling all over the floor. Come to think of it, the desk is entirely cleared off now. Not one pen in sight. 

     Jakurai makes his way toward the closet while Doppo settles into what he imagines is the desired position, bent over the desk, elbows pressing into the wood, feet slightly apart. Jakurai always gives simple, clear demands that Doppo can follow despite not knowing exactly what Jakurai has planned. ‘Something new’ could mean anything, really. Jakurai is introducing them to things slowly, easing them into it, and he’s never suggested something that Doppo or Hifumi couldn’t handle. So Doppo waits patiently, despite the fettered anticipation in his stomach threatening to tip over into full on fear with his bare ass exposed and Jakurai out of view. When Jakurai finally walks around the desk, emerging where Doppo can see him, he’s still fully dressed, holding something in his hands. Hysterically, Doppo thinks that it looks like a long, thin magic wand. When the realization finally hits, Doppo chokes on his own spit. 

     “Do you- Are you- You want to… Me?” Doppo is sure that the crack in his voice is matched by the expression on his face, if Jakurai’s immediate placating gesture is anything to go by. 

     “It’s something that I think you will respond to positively, given our past trysts.” Jakurai says so nonchalantly, like he isn’t about to- he’s going to spank Doppo over his desk. With a switch. 

      It’s not something Doppo’s particularly used to, Hifumi doesn’t typically indulge in this kind of play, and the thought of disappointing Jakurai feels like falling head first into a pitch black abyss of shame and embarrassment, much deeper and darker than the usual abyss. Inescapable even. 

     “You’ve been working so hard, Doppo-kun.” Jakurai hums, voice sweet and rich, and it grounds him in the moment. Keeps him from falling down, down, down, into his own head, “Do you want to try? I won’t do anything that you aren’t comfortable with.” It’s an out, a very clear and obvious out. One that Doppo does not even consider taking. He trusts Jakurai. He wants to be useful to Jakurai, wants to prove himself, even if it’s just this. 

      “Y-yeah. I… I want to try. I’m sorry.” The squeaked apology sounds pathetic even to him. 

      “Doppo,” Jakurai’s voice is much more stern than it was a second ago, “You know how to answer a question, don’t you?” The smallest frown makes itself known on Jakurai’s reddened lips, and Doppo feels like the switch has been used already, though it's sitting unused in Jakurai’s hand. His whole body tenses. 

      “Yes, Sensei.” The effect is immediate, Jakurai reaches across the desk to take Doppo’s face in his hands, gives him a quick kiss on his open mouth. He pulls back to look at Doppo face to face and runs his thumbs soothingly over the dark patches under Doppo’s eyes. 

      “You know what to say if you want me to stop?” Of course he does, that was one of the first things they had all agreed upon, back when this thing started. He has it written down in three separate places, so he won’t forget. 

     “Yes, Sensei.” He’s not going to make the same mistake twice. He won’t let Jakurai down again. 

     “You’re doing so well, already.” Sensei, his Sensei, says with such gentleness and warmth that it feels like Doppo is going to shatter into a million pieces right onto Jakurai's pristine bedroom floor. His gorgeous, experienced boyfriend is going to spank him over his desk and Doppo is not going to panic. He is not, Jakurai came all the way to Doppo’s office to pick him up in the middle of the night, and Doppo is going to make it up to him. 

     Jakurai walks back around the desk, out of Doppo’s sight. Doppo holds his breath. 

     The first hit from the switch is sharp. Doppo doesn’t have time to react except for the choked noise that forces its way out of his throat. 

     “Doppo?” 

     “ Fuck .” The moaned obscenity should be mortifying, but Doppo really can’t find it in himself to care. The embarrassment seems secondary to the harsh sting radiating from the soft skin directly underneath his ass. He can’t help the way his hips wriggle, trying to escape the phantom of pain. After a moment of silence, another smack mirrors the previous, and Doppo’s hips jerk against the desk. 

     “You can keep still like a good boy, can’t you?” Jakurai asks, voice deceptively calm. Doppo recognizes an order when he hears one, even with the wasp sting ache of welts rising on his skin. 

     “Yes, Sensei.” Doppo chokes out, more an exhale than a sentence. He wants to be hit again. Doppo will be as still as possible if it means being washed out with more white hot pain, and Jakurai delivers. Another hit, then another over a pre-existing welt, and Doppo works so hard to keep from moving his ass back into the switch or his cock into the desk that his nails are marking angry red crescents into his palms. The effort of keeping his position is making his abdomen start to shake. He clenches his teeth in an effort to distract himself, but his mouth is quickly forced open by a particularly hard smack. 

     It’s good. Way too good. Doppo should have trusted Jakurai to be a prodigy at this, too.

     Each strike lands with unerring accuracy. The pain burns so brightly that it feels like he must be melting away, melting into the sturdy feeling of Jakurai’s desk under his arms and the continued contact of the switch on his ass, his thighs, the skin behind his knees. He can’t stop the noises from pouring out of his mouth at every strike, and even if he could he wouldn't care enough to. 

     “Sensei, please!” Doppo whines despite himself. He can’t even think to feel self conscious as the switch comes down ruthlessly in the exact same place again and again. Doppo can barely breathe, tears are welling up in his eyes, threatening to spill. He can only whine, words are far beyond his reach as he tries, tries so hard to keep his hips still despite the overwhelming sensation, his body screaming for him to pull away, to rub his now fully erect cock against the wood under it. The burn that comes with the lack of hits is greater than the flashing pain of the strike, every second that the switch is away from his skin is blissful agony. 

     Jakurai runs his fingers down the decorated skin of Doppo’s ass, blunt nails catching on the raised skin, making Doppo’s breath catch in tandem and his back arch involuntarily, hot tears finally falling over his cheeks. It’s overwhelming but not enough, he wants to drown in it. The end of the switch is dragged over a few particularly red marks, and Doppo keens. 

     “You deserve this, Doppo. Tell me you deserve it.” Jakurai’s breathless voice is so close, Doppo can feel the hot breath on his ear, feel Jakurai’s solid presence through his shirt, but the order sounds so far away. Doppo is miles above ground. The switch is taken away suddenly, earning a frustrated groan from Doppo’s throat. 

     “I… I deserve it. I’ve been-- I’ve been good!” The pain and pleasure, combined with the tears, slur his words, but they’re there. He deserves it, deserved more. He’s been good, he’s barely moved at all. Jakurai has to reward him. One more particularly aggressive smack, then another, and through Doppo’s small, hiccupping sobs he can feel a large hand grip his hip. Suddenly, the new sensation of smooth fabric against his injured backside makes him cry out and rest his forehead on the sturdy desk. 

     The clothed V of Jakurai’s hips slams into Doppo’s ass in a way that would leave bruises if there weren’t already bruises there. The hardness Doppo can feel grinding against the cleft of his ass is the biggest ego boost he’s ever felt in his life. The continued pressure against the broken skin is driving Doppo’s own dick to barely rub against the wood of the desk. He can’t think of anything beyond the feeling of Jakurai working his clothed cock against his abused ass, the pain driving him wild. His thoughts are reduced to a mantra of Jakurai Jakurai Jakurai. He wants to hump the desk so badly, but Sensei told him not to move, so he won’t. He can be good. He is good. Good enough for Jakurai to get hard from smacking his ass and hearing him scream from the bittersweet hurt of it. 

     Without warning, Jakurai flips him around, manhandling him so that he’s face up on the desk. Jakurai’s tongue is slick against Doppo’s lips, mouth open in a pained cry as Jakurai deposits him onto the desk, freeing his hands to undo his own belt. 

     Jakurai takes them both in one massive hand and strokes to the best of his ability at the angle they’re in. The slide feels incredible, and it occurs to Doppo that his cock is leaking onto Jakurai’s fingers. He’s still crying, and he’s never been more turned on in his life. 

     “So good, so good for me.” Jakurai breathes, ragged, into Doppo’s mouth. The hand not jerking Doppo off makes its way back to the tender flesh of Doppo’s ass, digging in, scratching over the welts and the bruises, and Doppo screams. It’s the most he’s ever felt at once. Doppo bites the meat of Jakurai’s neck because it’s there, because he feels like he’s going to explode. He can feel Jakurai shudder against him,can feel the hand stroking his cock slide faster, the noises slicker. Jakurai shoves his tongue into Doppo’s mouth like his life depends on it, like he can’t hold back any longer. 

     “You took it so well, so perfect,” Jakurai moans into Doppo’s mouth, grabs Doppo’s ass particularly hard, “So good, Doppo.” It’s enough to make Doppo cum all over his hand, moaning against Jakurai’s jaw, biting whatever skin he can reach. 

      Doppo comes back to himself lying on top of the desk, Jakurai is using tissues from the nightstand to wipe them both down, and he seems content to let Doppo catch his bearings for the time being, lifting up his torso to get his shirt off of him before gently laying him back down and moving around the room. Doppo’s ass hurts, but the pain is less sharp and flashing than it was before, more of a dull ache that throbs where it meets the heated wood of the desk. 

     “Apologies, I am going to move you now.” Is the only warning Doppo gets before he’s bodily lifted from the desk, his feet hitting the floor, and Jakurai supports him as they move shakily across the room to the bed. Face down on top of Jakurai’s bed, Doppo hears a hiss of breath above him. He turns his head groggily. The pain is so far away. Everything seems so far away. Like it’s just him and Jakurai and nothing else. 

     “Wha-?” Doppo manages. A chaste kiss is pressed into his hair. 

     “Ah, Nothing to worry about. I’m going to get the baramycin.”