Posted originally on the Archive_of_Our_Own at https://archiveofourown.org/
works/1062579.
  Rating:
      Explicit
  Archive Warning:
      Underage
  Category:
      M/M
  Fandom:
      Free!
  Relationship:
      Nanase_Haruka/Tachibana_Makoto
  Character:
      Tachibana_Makoto, Nanase_Haruka
  Additional Tags:
      Fingering, Body_Worship, Fluff, PWP
  Stats:
      Published: 2013-11-29 Words: 1977
****** Concentration ******
by A_Lesbian_With_Pink_Hair
Summary
     There are very few things in the world that can really grab Haru's
     attention and keep it. Makoto is one of those things. Or, sometimes
     Haruka has to remind his boyfriend how much he cares about him.
Notes
     This is the most PWP thing I’ve ever written holy goddamn. I don’t
     even know I’ve never written Free! fic before but sure here goes why
     the fuck not. I am detoxing from turkey coma, so have some porn. As I
     said, haven’t written swimming anime fic before, so while I feel I
     have the characterization down, don’t kill me if anything seems off.
     I'll probably write more Free! fic in the nearish future.
     Also I headcanon that Haru is autistic. Probably Asperger’s just like
     me. It’s not really relevant but most of the internal dialogue
     choices I made with Haru are stemming from that fact. Hope you enjoy!
Haru’s concentration drifts sometimes, like leaves on the water of a lake. It
can be difficult to get his attention if you’re not talking about something he
finds outright important.
Makoto is one of the few things in Haruka’s life that is deemed worthy of full
concentration. Haru getsMakoto. Gets him like he gets water, understands all
the facets of him—his great capacity for love, his extreme kindness, his gentle
heart, his insecurities, his fear of superstitious nonsense, his tendency to
take on too much responsibility at once, the joy he gets from swimming, the joy
he gets from being with Haru… Haruka understands these things, and loves Makoto
for them.
Makoto, in all his goodness and wisdom, is often quite insecure about his
relationship with Haru. When they did eventually get together, no one was
surprise (it turned out that Rin and Nagisa had started a bet about it ages
ago, which Haru aggressively ignored and Mako sputtered indignantly over as
money exchanged hands while Rei, Nitori, and Kou commiserated over their
ongoing association with crazy people.) Some days during practice Haru will
catch Makoto watching him, green eyes heavy with some sort of misguided guilt
over weighing Haruka down, unable to understand that it’s Makoto that always
pulls Haru up when no one else can.
Haru watches Makoto watch him and knows that the only way to reassure Makoto is
to show him how well Haru knows him, how much he means, how important he is…
So Haru pulls himself out of the pool.
“Hey,” he says, picking up a towel and scrubbing at his damp hair as he
approaches his boyfriend. “Have dinner at my place tonight.”
“Eh? Oh! Sure, Haru-chan. I’ll just text my parents and let them know I’ll be
late.”
Haru nods and makes his way to the locker room as if he wasn’t planning
anything at all.
Getting Makoto to his quiet, empty house is easy. It’s practically Mako’s
second home anyway; he comes and goes as he pleases. He’s there far more often
than his parents ever are, in any case. Haru and Makoto toe their shoes off at
the door and pad through the house on slippered feet, dropping bookbags on the
kitchen table. Haru turns on Makoto.
“You were doing it again, earlier, during practice,” Haru says, eyes narrowed
accusingly. Makoto flushes and averts his eyes.
“What? No, I wasn’t.”
“Makoto.”
“Haru-chan…”
“Makoto. You know I…” Haru trails off then. He’s not so good at talking about
his feelings. His words always get stuck, come out shaped wrong, and no one can
ever untangle them except Makoto. Makoto’s gentle eyes soften and he smiles
that lovely smile of his at Haruka.
“I know. I’m… sorry. Sometimes I just watch you and think, ‘how could I ever be
enough for Haru when he loves something as massive as the sea?’ and it makes me
feel small. It’s stupid, I know.”
“Makoto isn’t the sea. Makoto is different. The ocean… Water… I need those
things but they don’t need me. That’s just how it is,” Haru struggles with the
words. “But with us it’s different. I need you, and you need me, and it’s nice
to be needed sometimes. With Makoto, being needed… it isn’t so bad.”
“Haru-chan. I do. Need you. Sometimes I forget you need me.”
“So I’ll remind you. Okay? Let me.”
This, Haruka knows how to do. He knows now, has learned since they became a
real couple, what Makoto likes, what he doesn’t. He knows the best way to take
Makoto apart, and he relishes doing so when he gets the opportunity, like any
16-year-old with a hot and willing boyfriend.
Haru gives Makoto a rare smile and takes him by the hand to his room. He deftly
unbuttons Makoto’s school shirt, loosens the tie and removes it, slides the
shirt down Makoto’s arms and lets it drop to the floor. Makoto moves to return
the favor, but Haru stops him with a hand on Mako’s wrist and a shake of his
head.
Let me take care of you,he says without speaking. Let me show you that I need
you.
He unbuttons his own shirt, but doesn’t remove his. He instead focuses on
ridding his boyfriend of the rest of his uniform, socks and all. He places
Makoto’s wristwatch on the bedside table and looks down hungrily. Makoto is
lying on the bed watching him quietly with wide green eyes, face flushed. Haru
nods once, almost to himself, and sits down, stretching to give Makoto a kiss
on the mouth.
Haru kisses his cheeks, the corners of his lips, his forehead, his neck, gently
cradling Makoto’s head like it’s the most precious thing he’s ever had in his
hands.
“Haru, let me…”
“No. Be patient.”
With a huff of frustration, Mako lets himself lie back as Haru resumes, leaving
a hot trail of wet kisses and licks down the taller boy’s throat, biting gently
at the junction of his neck and his shoulder.
He lets out a sharp gasp, eyes fluttering. Haru knows this body, knows it
almost as well as he knows his own, knows where to bite and where to kiss and
where to touch, knows how much is too much, and he knows it so well and he
doesn’t think he’ll ever be tired of reminding himself.
Makoto is, of course, an enormous person. Just ridiculously tall and extremely
well-built from all the swimming, and while Haru has trouble comparing him to
anyone else simply due to a lack of interest in anyone else, he’d say that
Makoto is probably the most beautiful person he’s ever seen.
He lets his deft fingers skim Makoto’s wrists, the crease of his elbows, the
width of his shoulders, thumbs circling erect nipples on well-defined pectoral
muscles.
“H-Haru…” Makoto murmurs as a thumb brushes lazily over one of the little pink
nubs. Makoto is sensitive here, which is interesting considering how this skin
is so often bare in the water, but Haru doesn’t mind. He likes it. He laves his
tongue over one nipple, with just a hint of teeth, one hand thumbing over the
other in a consistent circular motion. Mako whimpers slightly, knowing he’s not
allowed to touch but wanting to, feeling wrong for not returning the affection.
This is a problem Makoto has, Haru knows. It’s hard for him to let someone do
something for him without trying to do something in return almost immediately.
And most days Haru doesn’t mind those large gentle hands on his body, but today
isn’t about that. It’s about Makoto, and so Haru ignores the sounds Makoto is
making and mouths down over firm abs to Makoto’s bellybutton.
By now, Makoto’s cock has stirred and is already quite hard, precum beading at
the tip. Haru licks the palm of his right hand and reaches down to grasp his
boyfriend’s erection loosely, stroking smoothly and biting back a smile as
Makoto lets out a moan.
“Makoto,” he says, kissing a bent knee and licking at the soft inside of a
thigh. “What do you want?”
“I… H-Haru-chan, I want to touch you, Haru—“
Haru bites sharply at the inner thigh, and Makoto jerks.
“Besides that.”
“I w-want… your hand, just. Please, please, Haru.”
Makoto usually gets pretty into it pretty quickly. He is a dedicated,
passionate lover, and while Haru has no one else to compare him to, he can’t
imagine ever wanting anything else. Anyone else. There’s no one else. Does
Makoto know? Haru tells him.
“Makoto,” he says, stroking with one hand and bracing himself with the other,
forehead pressed against Makoto’s as he strokes. “You know you’re it, right?
Just you. Don’t… I don’t want anyone else. Just Makoto. Okay? Don’t go away.
Don’t look at me like you think I need someone better, because I don’t. There’s
no one better and I only need you.”
“Haru…” Makoto whimpers, fingers clenched in the fabric of Haru’s sheets. “I
love you, Haru, please…”
“Don’t ever go away, Makoto,” Haru keeps talking even though he feels
ridiculous. It’s Makoto. Makoto never thinks Haruka is ridiculous, never laughs
at him when he can’t express something right, never stops being supportive and
wonderful. “I need you here.”
“Won’t go,” Mako moans, breath coming in heavy pants.  “Don’t want to go
anywhere. ‘M gonna stay with Haru forever.”
“Yeah,” Haru whispers. He stops his hand and ignores his boyfriend’s whine as
he rummages through the drawer for something. “Makoto, can I? Can I touch you
there? I want to make you feel good.”
They’ve done it before, just with fingers, fumbling and shy and perfect with a
little practice. They have a box of condoms for when they’re ready, but they’re
not yet, and that’s fine.
“Y-yes,” Makoto stutters. He’s close, Haru knows, but he revels in the
knowledge that he’s the only one who has ever seen Makoto like this and,
hopefully, the only one who ever will.
He coats his fingers with lube and brings his hand down to the small opening
between Makoto’s cheeks. He knows, abstractly, that Nagisa and Rin have been
trying to figure out for ages who tops more often, and as far as he knows, they
assume it’s Makoto because he’s taller. Which is really stupid, in Haru’s
opinion. Haru thinks, when they get to that someday, they’ll take turns and try
lots of things. But he does like this, likes the idea of being inside of
Makoto, someday wants to bury himself in that tight heat, be surrounded by
Makoto, wants to unravel his love from the inside and watch him fly apart
beneath him. He likes that idea, likes fingering Makoto, who is new and
sensitive just like Haruka.
Haruka slips a finger in slowly, carefully. Makoto makes a soft noise sort of
like a sigh, and Haru pumps his finger in and out, adding a second after a few
minutes, searching for Makoto’s prostate. He finds it with relative ease, being
sure to brush against it with each thrust of his fingers.
“Nnn, Haru, that’s… aah, it’s good, Haru…” Makoto’s hands are on Haru’s biceps,
not pushing or pulling just holding.
“Yeah?” Haru mumbles. He’s happy. That’s all he wants, for Makoto to feel good.
“You can, ah, add another finger…”
The most they’ve ever done for either of them is three. Haruka complies,
sliding in a third finger along with the first two. Makoto hisses at the
stretch, but pushes back against those fingers, letting out little gasps and
sighs that Haru revels in. Makoto looks beautiful, Haru thinks, flushed and
moaning and hard, writhing on Haru’s bed with Haruka over him.
“Mine…” Haru mutters, unbidden. “This is mine. Right?”
“Y-y-yes, Haru, that’s… a-ah, Haru, please, let me… please touch me, Haru…”
Haru decides he can do better than that shifting down to suck the tip of
Makoto’s cock into his mouth, tasting bitter precum on his tongue as he
swallows around him.
“H-Haruka,” Makoto gasps, body shaking. “That’s so… aah Haru, I’m so close…”
Haru thrusts his fingers harder, sucks at Makoto greedily as his boyfriend
comes with a loud moan. He takes his mouth away but keeps moving his fingers
inside of Makoto, helping his love through his orgasm, slowing and stopping as
Makoto’s breath evens out.
Of course, Makoto’s thought is instantly of his boyfriend.
“You still haven’t… let me…” he mumbles, reaching for the zip of Haruka’s
pants. This time Haru lets him, lets Makoto slide his pants and jammers down
and strokes him to completion. Haruka isn’t nearly as noisy when he comes, but
he spills over into Makoto’s fist and doesn’t bother to clean up as he kicks
away the last of his own clothing and lets himself fall into Makoto’s arms,
sated and happy.
Everything else can wait.
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