Title: Birthday Cake!
Characters: Shiranui Genma, Gekkou Hayate, Kamizuki Izumo, Hagane Kotetsu, Namiashi Raidou, Yamashiro Aoba
Warnings: Yaoi, rough sex, expletives
Notes: It’s about Hayate’s birthday, but it’s a birthday gift for Genma.
Disclaimer: Naruto is not our toy, although sometimes we wish it was. Everyone you meet here belongs to Masashi Kishimoto, we just borrow them, occasionally.
Authors’ Note: [Penbrydd and Sweetbriar] Yesterday was Genma’s birthday, and while certain personal issues prevented us from releasing this at that time, we’re sure as hell releasing it now. Happy belated birthday to Penbrydd’s favourite tokujou!
Warnings: Yaoi, rough sex, expletives. [GenHaya, implied KoIzu]
It had all been Kotetsu’s idea, and Genma was never going to forget that as long as he lived. He tried to sit as still as possible inside the frame while Kotetsu and Izumo piled the cake bricks over it. Izumo insisted that if he was going to jump out of a cake, it had to be made of real cake. He hadn’t had the sense to disagree at the time, but it was starting to get really warm as the holes closed up around him. The cake was fucking enormous, and he hoped like hell that the two chuunin could carry it without dropping the thing — and him. He heard Kotetsu shout something about frosting, and suddenly he was completely blind and deaf as the two coated the entire construct in processed sugar schmear. That was his cue to duck, which he did, just in time, as Kotetsu drilled out a hole at eye-level.
"Okay, we’ll get you there, but then it’s all up to you," Kotetsu sniffed, and Genma could tell he was grinning. With some muffled cursing, the cake lifted and the two chuunin carried it toward the rather subdued party that Hayate had been cornered into having. The kid wouldn’t stand for having a big shebang of an event — he was too damn quiet — but he seemed to be more or less okay with what he’d been misled into thinking would be a quiet gathering of his boyfriend and close friends at his house. His father was off on a mission as it was, and with only Hayate occupying the spacious, traditionally-constructed house, there would be plenty of room for their little get-together.
They knew they’d more or less tricked him into thinking it would be a largely uneventful evening. But that only made it all the sweeter to see look of bafflement and vague horror on the kid’s face when he opened the door and saw the cake. Izumo and Kotetsu had to stifle grins — largely unsuccessfully — as Hayate stared at them dumbly from the genkan.
"I, um…that’s, uh…" He coughed. "Um. Hi."
Izumo gave up and let the grin run away with his face. "Hey, kiddo. Yeah, I know, it’s a fucking huge cake. It also weighs a fucking tonne. Want to step out of the way so we can kick our shoes off and get this thing inside?"
Hayate performed a shockingly accurate impression of a fish for a few more moments before his wits finally caught up to him. He stepped aside, his eyes never leaving the giant cake as Izumo and Kotetsu carefully levelled it inside the house. "Um…but where are you…I don’t know if that’s going to fit anywhere." He stared at it blankly for another moment. "Why is it so big?"
Kotetsu grinned. "That’s what he keeps asking me…" The glare from Izumo was almost enough to cut flesh. "Uhm, I think we’ll just put it on the floor. In the living room. Yeah." He sniffed and led the way, and the troublemaking duo finally set the cake down in the middle of the room, where Raidou and Aoba were lounging idly, having already arrived. Raidou looked mildly suspicious, but shrugged it off as Kotetsu stared rather intently at him.
"You should totally cut the cake, kid." Kotetsu nodded sagely. Hayate just stared at him blankly.
"Because he said so, dork." Izumo reached over to cuff Hayate playfully on the head; the kid ducked away, and Izumo swiped only at air. "Come on, don’t be a spoilsport. It’s your eighteenth birthday. Dessert before dinner. Live a little!"
Hayate scratched at his head, looking at the cake uncertainly. "But Genma’s not here yet," he said flatly. It was clear that this fact bothered him, and the fact that anyone in the room could tell the stoic kid was bothered was testament enough to it.
"No worries. We saw him on the way over. He’s got some last minute bullshit to take care of. Said you should eat cake while you wait for him." Kotetsu grinned and pointed to Hayate’s sword. "And I think you’re the only one with a blade big enough to cut it, since I’m guessing Rai left his at home."
Raidou nodded. "No need to bring a real weapon to a party among friends. A few kunai should be enough for anything that breaks out, here." He continued to examine the cake suspiciously. Hayate frowned at it dubiously, looking mildly offended at the suggestion that use something as sacred as his personal weapon to cut a cake.
"But I don’t want to eat it without Genma."
Izumo rolled his eyes in exasperation. The kid sounded like he was eight, not eighteen. "Grow up, kid. Come on, he said to eat it without him. Cut it already, will you?"
Aoba grinned, righting his sunglasses as he peered around Raidou’s shoulder at the cake. "Dude, yeah. Just swipe right through it with your sword."
"Okay, look at it like this. You have the sword and it’s your birthday, therefore it’s gotta be you who cuts the cake. Anything else would be complete sacrilege on at least two fronts — am I right, Rai?" Kotetsu glanced at the other swordsman across the cake.
"You’re at least half right. I don’t know about the birthday cake cutting thing." Raidou shrugged. "Either way, that looks like a really amazing cake, and I’m guessing that Genma’s the one who got it, because he knows you don’t like chocolate, and that looks like an angelfood cake with strawberries. Either way, I want cake, and if he says we get to eat it without him, I’m voting that we cut the thing."
Hayate pursed his lips at the cake, looking a bit resigned. "Fine," he said flatly. "I’ll cut the cake. But I’m not eating anything until Genma gets here." He was as painfully stubborn as always as he went to get his sword, sliding it out of the sheath with the scraping sound that was always like sharp music to his ears. He examined the polished surface of the blade almost apologetically, sighing.
"I’m going to have to clean this really thoroughly after, you know," he told the others. "The sugar’s going to crust up on the blade and…"
"Aw, cut the shit and just cut the cake, kid!" Aoba said impatiently, eyes trained on the confectionery monolith before them. Hayate gave him a disgruntled look and turned to face the cake, raising his sword in preparation for a sharp vertical strike that would cut dead centre through the cake, cleaving it in half.
As the sword came down Genma came up, mostly missing the blade, but just barely. He stood just to the side of the sword, which had cleanly removed just a shred of his left knee, hipshot and wearing nothing but a pink thong and matching rabbit ears. "Let them eat cheesecake!" he cried, as chunks of the top of the cake showered the room. After contemplatively dabbing at the smears of frosting on his chest, he licked his fingers. "Happy birthday, kid." He held out another fingerful of frosting, this one taken from just above the line of the thong.
Raidou stared in blank horror for a moment before picking up a piece of cake that had landed in his lap and nibbling at it. "Well, it’s good cake," he noted to Aoba, who looked significantly disappointed that the person residing in the cake had not been of the female persuasion. Sighing in resignation, he grabbed a fistful of cake and gave it a test taste.
The sword slipped from Hayate’s limp fingers and clattered to the cake-covered tatami mat below. He stared in mixed bewilderment, shock, and horror at the scantily-clad, cake-covered shinobi before him, apparently unable to form sentences, words, or even vaguely coherent sounds. Genma. Genma had been in the cake. Hiding in the cake. In — in that. Bunny ears and a…a thong. A pink thong. And Hayate had very nearly sliced him in half.
A flash went off, and then another. Kotetsu managed to snap five or six pictures before anyone else moved at all. All the horror and bewilderment had been caught on film, and in the morning, he’d turn the pictures over to Ebisu. By noon, there would not be a shinobi in all of Konoha who hadn’t seen them. He quickly replaced the camera in whatever secret pocket it had come from, and there were an awful lot of pockets in the uniforms that he and Izumo favoured.
Genma began to pout, just a little. "Aww, come on, kid. I’m nearly naked, all covered in frosting, and I’m all yours. Come on and get a taste." He bobbed the frosting-covered finger. With the other hand, hidden by his body, he signalled to Izumo. Sliced my knee. Bandages? Izumo nodded, one hand diving into one of the many aforementioned pockets to grab a roll of gauze.
Hayate seemed significantly less prompt. He stared at Genma with nearly vacant eyes, still trying to process exactly what was going on. At least the reaction, if embarrassed and a little appalled, seemed to be more or less a good one, and his eyes hadn’t flickered from Genma once.
"I…uh…you…you’re…cake…" A dull flush had spread over his cheeks underneath the translucent pallor, and he swallowed.
"No, but I am covered in it." Genma rolled his hips and leaned forward as he turned to face Hayate. He held his other hand out behind him and accepted the bandages from Izumo with a silent sign of thanks. "Don’t you want to taste your dessert?" Batting his eyes and grinning saucily, Genma licked his lips as he pressed his frosting covered finger against Hayate’s mouth. Kotetsu barely stifled a laugh, both hands clasped over his mouth. Genma just needed the kid distracted long enough to get the bandages on.
And what an effective distraction it proved to be. Swallowing a cough in the back of his throat, Hayate slid his lips around Genma’s finger slowly. He still hadn’t taken his slightly wide eyes off of Genma’s face. He sucked the frosting off Genma’s finger with some sort of rapt fascination, the frosting-covered sword on the floor strangely forgotten. Genma moaned with animal lust — it was among those things he could and would do on command — as the hand holding the bandages dipped beneath the surface of the cake and wound the gauze around his leg. That was the sort of sound that usually made Hayate more than a little weak in the knees, and he was counting on it to keep the kid’s eyes unfocused for just another few seconds while he — there. He tore off the gauze, letting the roll drop into the space he’d been sitting in, and tucked the end up under the wrapping. He brought that hand back into view, the back of it smeared with icing, and proceeded to lick it off like a cat who’s stepped in a bowl of milk. "Want me to step out of this cake so you can lick that off the rest of me?" he purred, invitingly.
Raidou developed a whole new respect for Genma’s stealth skills, in that moment. The younger shinobi never ceased to amaze him with the art of hiding things in plain sight. Speaking of plain sight…
Hayate’s crossed just a bit at that. He reached out and grabbed Genma’s hand with surprising ferocity, holding it up to his own mouth. "Okay," he breathed onto it before dragging his own tongue up along it, swallowing again. Aoba just looked at Raidou plaintively, still sorely disgruntled by the entire disappointing affair. Kotetsu fished the camera out, again, subtly concealing both it and himself with some low-level jutsu. Such pictures he would have…
Genma squatted back down for a brief moment, just to make sure he was completely covered in frosting, and then stepped out of the cake, looking lazily down at Hayate, who stood mere inches from his frosted chest. "All yours," he purred, looking down with what appeared to be unbridled lust, but wasn’t. He was keeping the lust as checked as he could, if only out of respect to Raidou.
Hayate barely knew the difference, even for as long as he’d known Genma as intimately as he did. A small, gurgled sound escaped his throat before he stood on his toes and pressed his lips against Genma’s, ignoring the way the frosting smeared lightly across his shirt when he came into contact with Genma. The hand holding Genma’s tightened around his wrist. Hayate began to tug him gently away from the living room, apparently completely distracted from the mess. Oh, he’d shit bricks about cake all over the tatami and his sword later. But that was later.
Completely unnoticed, Kotetsu just kept taking pictures as Genma followed Hayate out of the room. "Pardon us for a few," the scantily clad tokujou requested of the room, "We’ll be back shortly. Enjoy the cake in the mean time. There’s more than enough, even if Rai does eat as much as I know he wants to."
Raidou’s single-finger salute went unnoticed by its target. He might have said something under other circumstances, but he had a mouthful of cake at the time. Genma and Hayate disappeared into the other room, both of them looking ravenous in their own way. Kotetsu looked as though he’d follow them before Izumo reached out and jerked him back sharply by the collar.
"You’ve got enough pictures," he informed Kotetsu firmly, and leaned down to lick a fleck of frosting from the other chuunin’s cheek. The camera vanished in an instant.
"Yes, I think I do. Especially if you’re going to do that again." Kotetsu grinned ravenously at Izumo, nudging him back toward the edge of the cake. Raidou started to hum some drunken reel as he attempted to block out the excessive amount of male pheromones in the room. He wasn’t drunk, he reflected, as he stuffed more cake in his mouth and gave Aoba a moderately pained look, but it sure as fuck would help if he was. Aoba looked like he felt much the same.
Half the frosting was off of Genma’s body by the time they were in Hayate’s room and on the futon — it had, by now, transferred to somewhere on Hayate, whether it was his mouth, face, or shirt and pants. He wasn’t really paying much attention — he wasn’t even entirely interested in licking it all off of Genma, because they both knew he wasn’t that fond of sweets. By the time they’d tumbled messily onto the futon, Hayate had managed to land a solid kiss on Genma’s mouth, the usual taste of death sweetened by the saccharine frosting in both of their mouths. Genma moaned warmly as his senses absorbed the fact that they were alone, and he began to let up on the throttle just a bit, a real and significant lust creeping to the surface.
"I don’t care how it happens, but I want two things. I want the frosting off me, because it’s going to make a lousy lube, and I want your tongue on me," Genma panted before returning to the kiss, passionately sucking at his lover’s tongue. Hayate moaned into Genma’s mouth, pressing his fingertips into Genma’s sugar-coated skin before he managed to pull back, coughing and gasping for breath.
"Frosting is water soluble. I know a suiton. Does that work?" His words were breathless, short, and charged with the kind of energy he only ever possessed when he was alone with Genma like this. Even when he was on the battlefield, he was still largely calm and subdued. He was almost never described as energetic. Before he even received his answer, he was pulling his slightly shaking hands away, trying to get ready to form hand seals. Genma just nodded, letting his hands fall away from Hayate’s back as he spread himself out to be washed. There was something so incredibly sexy about Hayate and water in the same sentence, and in Genma’s head, all they were missing was a full moon. The very thought of it was enough to pull at his blood, and, pressing a small groan from him, his back arched and his muscles tensed in anticipation of the warm, wet touch. Panting lightly, Hayate leaned over him and performed the hand seals with surprising accuracy. He didn’t seem to be thinking much about what might happen to his futon and the tatami afterward as a small stream of lukewarm water poured over Genma’s body, washing away the frosting. The sugared water spilled off of Genma’s mostly naked body, soaking into the sheets and floor. The entire room smelled too sweet, Hayate decided. At least it would smell differently soon enough.
Genma swept what water remained on his chest off his body with one hand, while gazing lazily up at Hayate. "Why are you wearing clothes?" he asked, slipping the other hand up under Hayate’s shirt to trace the lines of his ribs. Hayate shuddered briefly, pressing lightly back against Genma’s hand. Miraculously, he somehow managed to get out a half-witty reply.
"Why are you wearing these?" he retorted, voice slightly strained, as he reached over to tug the bunny ears out of Genma’s hair. "They make you look silly…" Unable to resist dipping down for one more brief but heated kiss, he started to strip his frosting-smeared shirt away, unevenly straddling Genma’s wet hips. Genma pulled Hayate against him, grinding his hips against his thin lover’s ass.
"I’m wearing them purely to offend Aoba’s sensibilities. And the thong was to protect Rai’s," Genma panted with a dazed smile. "Our pet chuunin have already seen what I have to offer, and last I checked, they enjoyed the view only slightly less than you do." He tugged impatiently at Hayate’s pants. The younger tokujou lifted his hips away from Genma’s, sliding the pants down with one clumsy hand.
"I’m glad you were wearing it," he ground out from between lightly clenched teeth. Through some wholly surreal and graceful act, he managed to kick his pants off without ever kneeing Genma in the side. He bent back down to kiss Genma, letting the older man take care of his boxer briefs. "I don’t like it when they look at you like that," he breathed into the kiss, barely intelligible amidst the lips and tongue.
"Gods, I love it when you’re jealous," Genma mumbled in return around a mouthful of tongue. For all the whoring he’d done, there was something exciting — something really insanely sexy — about the idea that someone could want him so much as to actually want to keep him all to themselves. And for that person to have been Hayate — Raidou had been only slightly surprised when Genma gave up his atheistic tendencies in favour of pantheistic ones. The slim, wet tokujou pulled his lover all the way down, pressing the bare body against his own. "You want to cut the last bit off me?" he breathed into Hayate’s ear. "One more piece of clothing and then I’m yours to do with as you please, love."
A thin whine worked its way out of Hayate’s throat. He let his hips buck against Genma’s for a moment or two, his growing erection pressing and rubbing against Genma’s yet-clothed one, and then he finally pried himself away just enough to reach between them. He tugged the thong down, fingering the flimsy piece of cloth — probably something cheap Genma had picked up solely for this purpose. It was poorly made, he could tell — and it came apart with a sharp tug. Genma gasped and moaned, fingers digging into Hayate’s hip. Hayate pulled the ripped thong away and tossed it off to the side, pressing back down against Genma fully. He reclaimed Genma’s lips, kissing heatedly as his body pushed down, exchanging heat with the human furnace beneath him, both boiling with raw passion.
Purring and writhing, Genma kissed back, the idea of Hayate taking control still novel and inspiring. He let his hands wander over his bone-thin lover, squeezing and stroking, suggesting wholly implausible things. The kid — not such a kid, these days — had an incredible body, and Genma was more than thrilled that he seemed to be the only one who had ever bothered to notice. He had no right to be jealous, but that didn’t mean he was exempt from occasional pangs. Right now, however, he wished that someone had noticed, just so he could go rub their nose in the fact that Hayate was, right at this very moment, completely naked, very turned on, and pressing down on him almost hard enough to just blend into his body. It was, in fact, a perfect day.
Hayate’s body tightened briefly, arching and grinding down against Genma’s, and it was another long moment before he could quite get control of himself. Panting wheezily, he reached out one hand, nearly knocking over a stray teacup as he groped around behind the narrow space between his bookshelf and the wall. He pulled out a small bottle, clutching it far more tightly than was wholly necessary. It had been Genma’s idea to stash the little bottle of lube in the kid’s room after one too many complaints, and Hayate had just about hated him for it for a little bit, mostly out of embarrassment. But right now, he was more than glad for it. Unable to completely break the kiss — not that he was really looking to — Hayate pressed the bottle into one of Genma’s hands, mumbling something urgent and muffled.
Being the complete horse’s ass that he was, Genma decided to push just a bit and see where it got him. He popped the bottle open with one thumb, and in a wholly convoluted gesture, spilled lube into his palm and reclosed the bottle, tossing it aside. He slipped his hand between himself and Hayate, careful not to spill any of the precious liquid, and wrapped his slippery fingers around his small lover’s large cock. Maybe he’d get lucky, this time.
Hayate’s reaction could probably be best described as both simultaneously phenomenal and delicious. He sucked in a wheezy gasp, bucking hard against Genma’s hand and moaning low in his throat as the slick fingers slid over his cock. Genma, he decided (not for the first time), was unfairly talented with his hands. And his mouth. And his —
The thought veered sharply off track as a particularly potent streak of electric heat seared through him, and he tried to pull away, gasping. "Genma," he breathed, strained. "If you’re…I’m…what are you trying to do?" It wasn’t quite what he’d meant to say, but it came out all the same.
"Oh, the usual." Genma grinned, unfairly composed. He had a way of turning the burning lust on and off like a switch, some days. "Just trying to see if I can get you to put this —" He flicked his thumb across the head of the cock in his hand. Hayate stifled a groan and bit down on the inside of his cheek fiercely. "— where I want it — where you know I want it." A small groan slipped out of his mouth as he bit his lip and rolled his hips. Hayate stared down at him with hazy eyes, face flushed an unusually vibrant pink.
"You —" He choked on a panting breath and coughed, managing to turn his head in time. The last time he’d coughed in Genma’s face during an intimate moment had resulted in some fairly horrified looks and a general mood killer. "I can’t do anything with it," he tried again, voice thick with lust, "if you keep holding onto it, and — and making me not…able to, ah…move…"
Genma’s hand moved — slowly, yes, but it did move, slipping off of Hayate and wrapping around his own flesh, instead. With a lusty grin, he managed to pull one leg out from under his lover, spreading his legs, invitingly. "I’m all yours, love. Any way you want me. Happy birthday, beautiful."
Another whine leaked its way out of Hayate’s mouth. The kid pressed himself down, covering Genma’s mouth with his as he grabbed at the older tokujou’s hip, steadying him even if the gesture wasn’t entirely necessary. Dragging a finger or two along the lube on his cock, he moved his hand down underneath Genma, pressing lightly at his entrance. Hayate knew that some days Genma liked to fuck without any preparation — just take it rough and bare — but even as much as it squicked him a bit to do all the preparing himself, he was always a little loathe to hurt Genma too much.
Genma batted Hayate’s hand away with a smirk. "Not on your birthday. I know you hate that, and we have more than enough lube if you’re worried about hurting me with that monstrosity." He pressed his lips to Hayate’s ear, half-breathing, half purring. "Of course, you know I love it when you hurt me like that — when I can’t do anything but feel you." Running a thumbnail along the underside of his lover’s cock, Genma purred and rolled his hips. Hayate shuddered, gurgling in the back of his throat. "There is nothing in the world that feels quite the way you do inside me. I always think you’re going to tear me in half and it feels so good."
Hayate bit his lip fiercely, groaning quietly, and stood stock-still for one long, painful moment, debating what to do. Hurting Genma — no matter how much the other tokujou seemed to like it — didn’t appeal to him quite so much as it did to Genma (even if it did feel as good as it was guaranteed to, a dry voice whispered to the back of his mind). He finally released his lip, tasting blood, and kissed Genma again. He steadied Genma’s hips and moved his own forward, the head of his cock pushing at Genma’s ass. Genma grabbed Hayate’s hips with both hands, pulling the little tokujou forward and into his body. A desperate sound of excruciating desire tore from his chest as he found himself suddenly filled completely and then some. He rolled his hips once, twice, and then again, writhing, impaled beneath his thin lover. His lips reddened and his nipples perked up as a light flush spread across his chest. There was nothing that turned Genma on quite as quickly as the vivid reality of being penetrated — of being fucked hard and rough by the man he loved. Hayate could take him by surprise in the middle of a mission, and he’d still be on his knees and begging in seconds.
The deep groans and grunts coming from Hayate’s raw throat rolled into Genma’s ear, hot breath ghosting across his skin. The younger man’s head spun as he tried to get a grip on the sensation of the all too tight body pressing hard around his cock. He ground his hips against Genma’s lightly, barely moving inside him, before he finally began to pull out. He felt the fingers on his hips tense, and he just as soon pushed back in — with a good deal more force than he probably should have used, but it felt so good, and Genma seemed to enjoy it none the less.
Genma struggled with coherence, the world bleeding away in streams of intense, erotic pain. "Harder, please," he begged as his eyes rolled back and the room became entirely surreal. "Gods, yes, harder!" His knees rose, bracketing Hayate’s slim form as the little tokujou pounded into him. He could feel the sharp tearing and subsequent burn as he began to bleed, and he panted and begged that much more, pleading to be owned entirely. Hayate groaned, low and thin in the back of his throat. He felt his will buckle and blend into Genma’s, pushing in and out with a force that would leave both of them sore, and as he finally let his eyes slide closed, a thin line of spit trickled slowly from the corner of his mouth, a subtle sign of his waning control on himself. His fingers dug into Genma’s skin, leaving marks from the pressure and his fingernails, but it was all drowned out by the loud groan that followed.
Bucking and writhing, Genma lost all sense of coherence or control. This was exactly the way he wanted it — exactly the way he loved to be fucked — and he would only ever really let himself enjoy it properly with Hayate. With Hayate, he didn’t have to be in perfect control all the time, like the irrepressible sex god he was reputed to be. With Hayate, he could just let go and enjoy it like a man — he could revel unabashedly in the absolutely gratuitous abuse of his body. His throat was dry from panting and his pleas became raspy as he muttered them against his lover’s lips. "Hayate — yes —" -gasp- "I’m yours… only yours —" -groan- "Fuck me — fuck me, please!"
Hayate writhed on top of him and inside of him, body twitching tensely. His head was positively swimming with the sheer sensation of it all — Genma’s pleading, begging voice, thin and strained beneath him, was overwhelming. He let out a loud moan — something raw and primal and almost animalistic — and thrust harder into Genma. It all felt so good that it hurt now, and he was fairly sure that when this was all over he wasn’t going to be able to move, let alone so much as speak. A garbled string of syllables burst forth from his mouth against Genma’s lips, something like a pleading declaration mixed with another something entirely desperate and needy. The only thing clear in it was Genma’s name.
Genma’s hand slipped off of Hayate’s hip and closed around his own cock, squeezing and stroking. His hips rolled of their own volition, grinding him against Hayate and thrusting him into his fist. He could feel his body starting to tighten, ass squeezing the cock inside him, fingers beginning to numb from the blood not reaching them. The constant stream of begging never stopped, just paused from time to time to allow breath to a gasp or a groan, a whine or a moan. He was lost entirely to the sensations that settled into his body — cock buried in his ass, lips pleading against his lips, hands on his body, sweat and sugar-water coating his skin, and the ever-present smell of sex that topped it all like a red, ripe cherry. That was the smell that Hayate had been waiting for, had been hoping would drown out the too-saccharine scent that hung in the air, sticky and cloying. He pushed into Genma’s ass, breath ragged and catching now. His own body was tensing, spasming prematurely in preparation for the complete overhaul of sensation that was soon to come.
"Genma," he gurgled, shifting from thrusting to grinding, because he wasn’t sure just how steady he could keep himself from here on in. "Ah — G-Genma —" He couldn’t seem to get anything out besides Genma’s name, if only because that was the only thing on his mind now. Genma — just Genma wrapping tightly around him, squeezing him, holding him and kissing him and being so prettily fucked by him.
Genma’s ankles crossed over Hayate’s tailbone, pulling the little tokujou even more tightly against him, trapping his fist-clenched cock between their bodies as the last stretch began. Aoba was going to want the brain bleach when this was all over, because there was absolutely no way that Genma wasn’t audible in the living room with the way he howled Hayate’s name. He hung in the strange and timeless moment between fucking and coming, just waiting for Hayate to set him off — so close, but not quite there, yet…
Hayate’s breath was heaving onto Genma now, spraying him with a fine sheen of spittle as he ground hard against Genma, pushed so far into him it just about hurt — for them both. He made a long series of strangled noises in the back of his throat as the fire burning just beneath his skin started to take hold, jerking his body tightly against Genma’s. He clawed at Genma’s skin, leaving angry red marks in his wake. "Anghh — Genma —"
Twisting suddenly and violently beneath Hayate, Genma’s entire body went taut — back arching, thighs clenching, teeth grinding. The ecstatic scream that started in his chest ended in a thin whine as it forced up through his tensed throat. Hayate seemed to glow above him, radiant and beautiful, as Genma spattered them both. The world had ceased to make sense many long minutes ago, but the desperate lust so clearly printed on Hayate’s face was all the sense that Genma needed. Nothing mattered outside this moment. Nothing.
Hayate’s back arched as Genma tightened around him, squeezing out all other thoughts he possibly could have had in that moment. That was all the encouragement he’d needed to push him over the edge. He let out a long, hoarse groan and ground into Genma’s ass for another few, long moments before his body finally gave in, pitching him wildly into the throes of the white heat. He wasn’t even aware of the noise he was making as it faded away, and he collapsed back onto Genma limply, body still idly twitching here and there.
Genma moaned quietly, dazedly groping for the blanket until he found the slightly wet thing and pulled it up over them both. He wrapped his arms around Hayate, refusing to let his lover pull away from him. A faint smattering of noise could be heard from the other room, but it hadn’t resolved into sense, yet. "You. Only you. Happy birthday, love."
A long wolf whistle came through the wall, loud and clear. "And I’m sure Izumo would whistle too if his mouth wasn’t full!" Kotetsu called out, and the hail of slaps began. "Of cake! Of cake!"
Hayate barely seemed to have the energy to be embarrassed. He didn’t even blush — at least, his face didn’t get any redder than it already was. He just buried his face in Genma’s neck, groaning quietly. "Let go, please," he croaked, head swimming. "There’s cake everywhere."
"Leave it be. That’s why we have pet chuunin to lick it all up for us, and if they don’t, Rai sure as hell will. You know that’s why I picked Angelfood, right?" Genma sighed contentedly, holding Hayate to him, one hand on a shoulder, the other on the opposite hip. "It’s your birthday. You don’t have to clean. You just have to let me keep you warm."
"But —" Hayate blinked at Genma blearily, barely looking like he had legs working well enough to support him anyway. "My sword." He looked at Genma desperately, almost like a puppy.
Genma moved the hand from Hayate’s shoulder to the younger man’s head, covering one ear and pressing it down into his shoulder. "Rai, take care of the kid’s sword, will you?" he called out loudly, if raspily. "This is the other reason you have friends. At least there’s another swordsman here."
"Already done," came the reply. "You two need anything? Some cake, maybe?" Raidou was definitely laughing. Hayate made a disgruntled noise and pressed his face harder into Genma’s shoulder.
"No more cake," he muttered. "No…more…cake. Mmmnngghh."
"I think we’re good. Thanks, asshole." Genma shouted.
"By your will, bastard," Raidou called back, still clearly cackling. Aoba could be heard whimpering in the background, and to judge by the continuing hail of slaps and expletives, Kotetsu had something to do with it. Hayate just tuned it all out, shifting slightly against Genma to get more comfortable.
"Thank you," he mumbled against the warm, sticky skin, nuzzling Genma lightly. "It’s a good birthday."
Genma just held Hayate quietly, half-listening to the ongoing conversation in the other room. He could make out a voice that was unquestionably Raidou saying something rather sharp and smartassed. Kotetsu started a sentence, but Aoba cut him off, loudly. "Let them eat cake? More like let them eat cheesecake!" he complained, "And if it’s cheesecake, why are there no girls?"