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“Tch. Seriously?”
Samatoki stares at the layer of water on his shower floor in disdain as it refuses to seep down the drain like it's supposed to. The draining had been slowing down for the last week or so, but it seems now it's decided to clog up completely. Just great.
Luckily, his schedule is clear today, so he has time to wait around for a plumber to show up. Samatoki grabs his phone off the bathroom counter and makes a call to his apartment’s service desk, and the employee on the other end apologizes profusely and says they'll send someone to fix it right away. He almost feels bad; he'd been as polite as can be on the phone, but maybe they know about his yakuza ties and are afraid of making him mad or something. Oh well, he supposes he can't complain about fast service.
So fast, in fact, that his hair is still damp and he hasn't even gotten a shirt on yet by the time his doorbell rings, having just finished brushing his teeth and getting his jewelry back into his ears, so Samatoki ends up answering the door in nothing but a pair of gray lounge pants.
Standing on the other side of the door is the most mindblowingly hot plumber Samatoki has ever seen in his life. His striking eyes are two different colors, one ruby red and one emerald green, accentuated by stylishly tousled pitch black hair and a flattering mole under his eye. His navy coveralls strain to contain his broad shoulders and bulging biceps, and an embroidered nametag over one of his sizable pecs reads “Yamada”.
And this dazzlingly attractive man at Samatoki’s door has the absolute gall to stare at Samatoki with his jaw on the floor, as if he’s the sexiest guy in this building right now. It’s in that moment that Samatoki decides that this Yamada guy will not be leaving his apartment without fucking his brains out first.
“Um….Aohitsugi-san?”
The plumber Yamada seems like he's struggling to keep his eyes on Samatoki’s face, and if he had at all regretted his decision to answer the door shirtless, Samatoki is absolutely fucking congratulating himself for it now.
“That's me. Here, come inside.”
He steps back and jerks his head to invite the plumber in, and the guy even brought his own little plastic shoe covers so he doesn't track dirt all over Samatoki’s carpet. How thoughtful.
“Yamada, is it? You want a drink? I was about to make coffee.”
“Ichiro is fine. And, no thank you, I'd better get right to work. Where’s the shower?”
Polite and professional as well. Samatoki can feel himself falling in love so fast it's almost fucking embarrassing. Without a word, he leads Ichiro through his apartment and points him at the bathroom, where he immediately sets down his toolbox and crouches down to get to work.
Samatoki stands in the doorway to admire Ichiro’s broad, toned back through his coveralls for just a moment before retreating to his bedroom and shutting the door. He's got a far more important task to attend to.
Namely, prepping himself. Ichiro Yamada absolutely radiates ‘big dick energy’, and Samatoki doesn't want to waste any precious time once the guy’s work is done before he gets that dick inside him. He peels off his lounge pants and grabs a bottle of lube and a condom from his dresser before getting onto his hands and knees on his bed to get to work.
Ichiro’s gorgeous face fills Samatoki’s head as he works a slick finger into the tight ring of muscle, imagining those skilled hands working over his nipples and gripping his waist, muscled thighs slamming against the backs of his own as Ichiro pounds into him. Samatoki bites hard into his bottom lip to keep from moaning too loud as he adds a second finger, then a third, carefully avoiding hitting his prostate. His arm gives out and he drops onto his chest, ass still in the air, his rock hard dick slowly dripping precome onto the comforter beneath him.
In the next room over, Samatoki hears the shower turn on and run for a minute, then back off again. His heart hammers against his ribs as he hears footsteps approaching the bedroom door, and then after a moment's hesitation, a polite but firm knock.
“Aohitsugi-san?”
“Come in,” Samatoki calls out breathlessly, and the door promptly clicks open.
There's a sharp intake of breath from the doorway, and Samatoki looks over his shoulder to see Ichiro staring wide-eyed and open-mouthed at where Samatoki’s fingers are buried to the knuckle in his ass.
With his free hand, Samatoki flicks the condom at Ichiro, and it lands on the floor at his feet.
“Don't just stand there. Get over here and fuck me.”
“O-Okay! Yeah!”
Ichiro picks up the condom and scrambles to undo his coveralls, peeling them down to his waist, and underneath he's got on a tight black tank top that perfectly shows off all his muscles, now shining with sweat from whatever work he was doing on the shower drain. He pushes his underwear down to his thighs, and fuck, the sight of his gorgeous cock makes Samatoki’s mouth immediately start watering. It's quickly swelling to hardness, even bigger than Samatoki imagined, and he's almost sorry he won't get to taste it, but right now all his horny brain can think of is getting that thing inside him as quickly as possible.
“Hurry up,” Samatoki grumbles as Ichiro fumbles with the condom wrapper and rolls it down onto his dick. Bless his heart, he even grabs the bottle of lube lying on the bed to get himself nice and wet before finally, finally stepping up to the bed.
Ichiro’s hands are so warm, almost hot where they grab confidently onto Samatoki’s waist to hold him still while he lines his cock up with Samatoki’s stretched hole. He must have taken the command to hurry up to heart, as he immediately pushes his entire length into Samatoki in one thrust.
“Ahh-hah, fuck!”
“I'm sorry! Here–”
“Don’t even think about pulling out,” Samatoki hisses, reaching back to grab a fistful of Ichiro’s clothing to emphasize his point, even as the painful stretch of the dick in his ass feels like it's threatening to split him in half. “Just gimme a fucking minute. Christ, you're huge, holy fuck.”
Ichiro laughs breathlessly and it might be the best sound Samatoki has heard in his life. He breathes deeply, slowly relaxing until the pain fades into a pleasant ache, and without waiting for Ichiro to move, Samatoki leans forward and then thrusts his hips back against Ichiro, making both of them cry out, and Samatoki’s neglected cock twitches under him as the huge dick filling him up slams into his prostate.
Needing no further encouragement, Ichiro tightens his grip on Samatoki’s waist, holding him still as he slowly draws his hips back, then pushes back in, grinding his cock into his insides. Samatoki’s hands grip the blanket on either side of his head and his mouth falls open as Ichiro settles into a steady rhythm, slow at first, then faster and harder. His thrusts go so deep that Samatoki feels like his organs are being pushed around, his guts rearranged, and every movement scrapes against his prostate tantalizingly, making his cock twitch and throb, leaking so much precome that a big wet spot has formed on the blanket.
Ichiro’s hands leave Samatoki’s waist to brace himself on the mattress as he bends over Samatoki, Ichiro's hot chest pressing against his back, and a pair of soft lips latching onto the place where his neck meets his shoulder, sucking gently. The new angle makes every slam of Ichiro’s hips drive his cock directly into Samatoki’s sweet spot, and he lets wanton moans flow unrestrained from his lips as he starts seeing stars. Samatoki gets one hand underneath himself to wrap around his swollen, weeping cock, and it only takes a few strokes before he's coming hard onto the blanket under him with a guttural groan.
Ichiro’s teeth sink into the side of Samatoki's neck as his own hips stutter and slow, grinding into his ass slowly but impossibly deep, and Samatoki feels a growing heat inside him as Ichiro fills the condom with his come. Ichiro rests on top of Samatoki’s back as both of their breathing slowly returns to normal, and then he slowly withdraws his cock from Samatoki’s sensitive body, making him wince.
Samatoki rolls onto his side and looks up at Ichiro as he ties off the condom and drops it into the trash can beside Samatoki’s bed, then starts getting his clothes back on with some degree of haste.
“Got somewhere to be?” Samatoki can't help but ask, trying not to sound too disappointed.
“Yeah…I have another appointment in like 20 minutes, so I'll have to get moving.”
“Hmm. Shame. You're a good fuck.”
Ichiro laughs again, his face going red as he looks down at Samatoki, mismatched eyes slowly drinking in his naked and fucked-out form. “You're not bad yourself. Um…here, take my business card. You can call me if you wanna do this again sometime.”
Samatoki sits up and takes the business card Ichiro fishes out of his pocket. “‘Yamada Odd Jobs.’ You're not even a plumber?”
“Well, not really.” Ichiro rubs the back of his neck sheepishly. “I do all sorts of things. Repairs, maintenance, deliveries, you know. Whatever you need.”
“Whatever I need,” Samatoki repeats, a smirk forming on his face as he looks back up at Ichiro. “I'll keep that in mind.”