Posted originally on the Archive_of_Our_Own at https://archiveofourown.org/
works/1851757.
  Rating:
      Explicit
  Archive Warning:
      Underage
  Category:
      M/M
  Fandom:
      弱虫ペダル_|_Yowamushi_Pedal
  Relationship:
      Aoyagi_Hajime/Teshima_Junta
  Character:
      Aoyagi_Hajime, Teshima_Junta
  Additional Tags:
      Phone_Sex, Cell_Phones, Masturbation, Requited_Love, No_Plot/Plotless,
      Plot_What_Plot/Porn_Without_Plot
  Stats:
      Published: 2014-07-10 Words: 1584
****** Audible ******
by tastewithouttalent
Summary
     "There’s nothing to see on the ceiling so Aoyagi shuts his eyes, lets
     his vision disappear into imagination so he can focus on the sound of
     Teshima’s voice on the other end of the line." Aoyagi is always very
     quiet but Teshima is more perceptive than he gets credit for.
Aoyagi is lying on his stomach flipping through a magazine when his phone
rings. He’s actually reaching for it before the sound hits his ears, responding
to some barely-seen flicker of light from the screen or just one of the
feelings he has come to associate with Teshima, the sense of expectant warmth
flushing under his skin and moving his fingers towards the electronic
connection the phone offers. He doesn’t even speak when he opens the phone;
Teshima is off already, not bothering with the greeting long ago made
unnecessary by habit.
“I think you have the right idea with imitating Tadokoro-senpai.” Teshima’s
voice is warm, melts through Aoyagi’s limbs to soothe away the constant mild
tension separation always causes. “Neither of us are climbers, after all, and
aiming for a sprinter’s build will make more sense with our technique.”
Aoyagi hums in affirmation, shuts his magazine and sets it aside so he can turn
over and rest his head on the pillow instead. There’s nothing to see on the
ceiling so he shuts his eyes, lets his vision disappear into imagination so he
can focus on the sound of Teshima’s voice on the other end of the line. The
other boy is rambling now, outlining the adjustments to his training plan, and
Aoyagi knows he’ll agree and knows that Teshima wants the reassurance of his
silence more than a discussion. It’s what makes Teshima so easy to be around,
one of the things Aoyagi loves best about the other boy.
There’s more on the list of things he loves than that, though, and when Teshima
pauses, says, “Ah, hold on just a sec,” and his words give way to the rustle of
fabric Aoyagi is reminded vividly of the legs that are another contender for
his favorite trait. He gets to see a lot of them, thanks to bike shorts, and at
this point he’s certain he could trace the tan line from months of training
across the other boy’s thighs without even looking.
“Sorry,” Teshima says, and there’s the sound of sheets shifting. “The uniform
pants aren’t very comfortable.” He might just mean he’s changed into pajamas,
but he wasn’t quiet for very long, barely long enough to pull off the school
uniform pants and definitely not long enough to put on anything else, and
Aoyagi’s imagination offers a vivid image of Teshima sitting cross-legged on
his bed in just boxers, that memorized tan line visible as the loose fabric
slides up as he shifts.
Aoyagi makes a sound without meaning to, a whimper that luckily sounds a little
more like a hiss than the want actually flaring in his blood, and Teshima
pauses. “Are you okay, Aoyagi?”
No, is what Aoyagi wants to say. No, Junta, I’m pretty sure I’m in love with
you. But he can’t say that, they’re friends, and he’s been holding this back
for so long it’s almost normal, now, to take what he can get from platonic
friendship and take what he needs alone for the sake of keeping what he has. So
he nods without speaking, and Teshima hears the motion or understands his
silence and starts speaking again. Teshima sounds perfectly ordinary, Aoyagi
can hear the smile in his voice and can imagine the sparkle in his eyes, and
that’s not helping either, and, well, Aoyagi is alone, kind of, and it’s not
like he needs to speak to hold a conversation with Teshima.
Just deciding to do it helps even before Aoyagi has gotten his pants open as
quietly as he can and wiggled out of them so he’s just in his boxers lying
across his bed. Teshima is still speaking, apparently entirely oblivious even
though Aoyagi can feel his own breathing coming harder with anticipation as he
pushes the elastic of his waistband down to free himself from the cloth.
There’s something scintillating about the situation, the sound of Teshima’s
voice clear and warm down the line, unaware of the fact that Aoyagi is curling
his fingers around his length and stroking friction over himself while
listening to the other boy speak, while thinking about the sun-brown shading of
his skin and the shadow of his eyelashes when he blinks. Aoyagi’s breathing is
coming faster, but when Teshima pauses for a token response it’s easy to nod or
shake his head without trying to speak. That’s enough to get the other boy to
start talking again, to fill in the lines of Aoyagi’s mental image with the
reality of his voice. When Teshima laughs Aoyagi can see the movement of his
throat, when he takes a breath he can feel the shift of his shoulders, when he
hesitates for a moment he can see the relaxed line of his mouth. There’s no
fantasy, or at least not a full-blown one; Aoyagi tries to avoid that, tries to
keep himself to reality instead of impossible hopes of reciprocation. But he
has memorized all of Teshima, the angles and curves and warmth that make up the
other boy, and if he has the sound of the other boy’s breathing to fix his
mental image he can draw out the entirety of the other behind his eyelids
without any other help.
Aoyagi’s breathing is coming hard enough that he’s starting to think he should
move the phone away from his mouth, just to be safe, his blood pounding loud in
his ears until it’s hard to think, when Teshima’s voice drops off-topic.
“You should invite me over next time.”
Aoyagi goes still, tries to replay the last few seconds of the conversation to
see where he lost the train of thought. It’s hard to think at all, much less
remember what Teshima was saying, and he’s still reaching for recollection that
won’t come when the other boy goes on speaking.
“It’s not fair to listen to you jerking off when I can’t be there with you.”
Teshima sounds perfectly level -- the sound of that smile is still in his voice
-- in spite of the total incomprehensibility of his words. Aoyagi opens his
mouth to...say something, a protest or a question or a plea, and Teshima talks
over him. “Don’t stop, Aoyagi, I want to hear you.”
It’s a recommendation, not an order, but Aoyagi is so used to obeying Teshima’s
requests, so used to them syncing up with his own inclination that he starts to
stroke himself again before his brain has stopped humming in shock. There’s a
shiver under his skin, it catches in his throat so his breathing stutters, and
Teshima makes a sound that’s so close to a moan that Aoyagi’s breath stops
entirely for a moment.
“Are you thinking about me?” Teshima asks, and Aoyagi opens his eyes so he can
stare at the ceiling just to ground himself, just to prove that
this is reality, that Teshima is actually purring to him through the phone
while he strokes over himself. “I think about you.” There’s a laugh, low and
almost embarrassed. “I didn’t know you felt the same way, I wish you had said
something sooner.” His words are low, almost a whisper and so loaded with
intensity that Aoyagi can’t breathe, can’t think and can’t stop.
“I thought it was just me,” Teshima says again, almost to himself, and when
Aoyagi gasps a breath of negation the other boy laughs again. “Yeah, I know, I
should have said something too.” Aoyagi’s vision is going hazy; he’s still
staring at the ceiling but he’s forgotten to blink, he’s not really seeing
anything at all anymore.
“Aoyagi.” Teshima is entirely focused, Aoyagi can hear the attention in his
voice. “Aoyagi, are you close?”
There is no way Aoyagi can answer that, not when words come hard at the best of
times, but he manages a whine and that’s enough, as he should have known it
would be.
“Roll over,” Teshima says, and Aoyagi doesn’t know how he knew the blond was on
his back but he’s obeying instantly, turning in onto his stomach without
slowing the movement of his hand and while keeping the phone pressed to his
ear. “Press your face into the pillow, Hajime, I want to hear you come.”
It’s barely enough warning. Aoyagi is so used to keeping his mouth shut, to
closing off his throat to silence that it takes effort to let the restraint go,
and he’s starting to tremble with pleasure before Teshima says his name. But
it’s the first time he’s heard the other boy call him that, and the shock of it
is enough to undo the knot in his tongue, to send him shaking into orgasm while
he wails Teshima’s name into his pillow.
“Jesus,” Teshima says, sounding a little breathless. “That. That was the
hottest thing I’ve ever heard, Hajime.” Aoyagi laughs weakly without lifting
his head, so the pillow muffles the sound, but Teshima’s responsive chuckle is
perfectly audible in the phone.
“I mean it,” Teshima says as Aoyagi rolls back over, takes a deep breath and
thinks about sitting up. “Invite me next time. Every time.” He’s smiling,
breathing faster than usual but grinning so wide Aoyagi can hear it in every
word. “Please, please, please.”
Aoyagi starts to smile, shuts his eyes and brings his arm up to drape over his
face. There’s a pause, Teshima giving him the moment he needs to collect his
thoughts from the white-warmth of disbelieving delight; then he takes a breath,
lets it out slowly, and speaks.
“I will, Junta.”
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