Midori hadn't expected to end the day crammed into a storage locker, grabbing fistfuls of Kuroda's hair as the older boy moaned enthusiastically around his cock, but fuck him if he wasn't going to enjoy it.
Their appointed task had seemed innocuous enough: go get some of the costumes out of Kinbara's storage locker to be reused in an upcoming performance. Kuroda had even thought to bring an air freshener to spray out the inevitable foot stank that followed any space Kinbara inhabited for long. And knowing Kinbara, he'd probably spent one or two nights in the storage locker after a fit of sudden inspiration while checking for water damage. So yeah, the place reeked.
Fifteen minutes of Kuroda flitting around, mumbling, "Spritz spritz," and Midori pretending not to notice how cute that was, the locker and costumes smelled more or less normal again. Of course by that point Kuroda decided with one of those secretive, giggly smiles of his to try on some of the costumes. He threw an oversized, green fur-lined hat to Midori while he shimmied into a one-piece (based on one the alien babes wore in a 1960s Gamera movie - and the fact that Midori knew that was proof enough that he had been spending way too much time in Akai's general vicinity). It looked ridiculous with Kuroda's track suit on underneath, but Midori himself was hardly able to see from under the brim of his hat, and by that point the mood had already hit a ridiculous enough stride that Midori just went with it. He was also a professional, though, so regardless of the fact that they were just fooling around, he summoned up enough Method Acting to inhabit his costume and make his move.
He was ostentatious but driven, the type of man who took what he wanted and held the ambitions of lesser men in contempt. And who liked giant damn hats, apparently. An intrepid interstellar explorer, he was now stranded on an alien planet, surrounded by mountains of tulle and enough sequins to make a Takarazuka patron weep, lonely and ready to seduce his way to a ship home. Kuroda, her name was, the alien woman with a ship of her own and a desperate plea for protection. She was being chased by the Neptunian mob and needed an Earth man to take up the keys to her ship... and her heart. She trembled as Midori held her close, giddy with relief to have a moment to spare in the whirlwind of danger and romance that colored their time together.
"Kyun kyun," she whispered as the Earth man stroked her back, and he marveled at how this alien babe could ever get hired if he insisted on breaking character when he wasn't reading from a script, I mean, come on. It's called improv.
It was endearing, though, the way Kuroda clung to his jersey under the shadow of his massive hat, looking up at him with sparkling eyes full of innocence and wonder, and asked in not so many words if he could express his gratitude with a very enthusiastic blow job.
Midori was not one to break character, nor to refuse Kuroda when he was looking so shamelessly eager. In the span of a few seconds, Midori's hat was tossed aside, while his back was shoved up against the wall of the locker. Kuroda's tongue darted out to wet his lips before he wrapped them around the head of Midori's cock. He wasted no time drawing as much of Midori's length into his mouth as would fit, pressing his tongue against it from beneath when he pulled back again. Then he sighed, the sound pausing as a hum against his lips that shot like a lightning bolt through Midori's cock. Midori snapped his head back with a groan and clenched his fingers in Kuroda's hair.
"Fuck, Kuroda," he murmured and tugged Kuroda's head forward again. Kuroda complied eagerly, sucking in quick intervals as he took Midori in again.
All this time Midori had seen Kuroda as cute or innocent - god, the way he looked up with his lips wrapped around Midori's cock, eyebrows raised and practically begging for approval, was just so damn sweet - but then, right when another moan started in his throat, he pulled his mouth back again, making sure that Midori's toes stayed curled and his body wanting. By the third time Midori was close to pleading with him to cut it out and just let him come, which he realized was exactly what Kuroda wanted to hear.
"Midori-kun..." Kuroda lilted before circling his tongue obscenely around the head of Midori's cock.
All of Midori's smooth one liners were failing him. Kuroda knelt before him looking as shy and doe-eyed as he always had, as though he were teasing Midori into oblivion completely by accident.
And Midori loved it.
"Be..." He was the only one panting here. "Be a good boy... and let... let me fuck that pretty mouth."
Kuroda grinned like the cat who had gotten the cream. Literally, in about two seconds.
"Oh, Midori-kun, you're so rough," he purred.
"Deeper," Midori's command came half a second after Kuroda had already begun to take him in again. Once, twice, and then he felt his cock touch the back of Kuroda's throat, watched with speechless fascination as Kuroda swallowed around him; and when his climax tore through him at the sight, he watched as Kuroda gulped down every last drop.
"And here I thought... that Kaori was the 'little devil'," Midori gasped and met Kuroda's satisfied grin with one of his own.