Snow Man, Judge a Book by its Cover Charge

Title: Judge a Book by its Cover Charge [Iwamoto/Sakuma]
Rating/Warnings: NC-17
Summary: Iwamoto would have a much easier time managing the library if his employees weren’t quite so unmanageable, and that’s before he finds out about Sakuma’s night job.
AN: Written for FQF Get Off Season Challenge. Honestly any of the Snowmen would be an awesome stripper because they’re all so bendy, but Sakuma in particular I would drop some dollar bills for.

Prompt: # 74 . Group members are employees at a local public library. They find out one member moonlights as a stripper.

Judge a Book by its Cover Charge

“So cute,” Watanabe purrs, leaning on the front desk with his elbows. “I could watch him do that aaaaall day.”

“Mm,” Iwamoto says, only half listening. He’s already scolded Watanabe half a dozen times today about professional behavior when he’s working the front desk, mainly because Watanabe seems to think that ‘working’ means ‘working it’ with some of their cuter library patrons. It just doesn’t seem worth the effort to Iwamoto at the moment, though, since it’s starting to snow outside and there’s a whole three people in the library aside from the staff. He’s even told Abe he could go work on his homework in the back office, mostly because it was giving him a headache to watch Abe practically vibrating with the need to study.

The week before finals always sucks in the library.

“And his fingers are so long too,” Watanabe murmurs in appreciation. “Mmmm.”

“Seriously, Shota,” Iwamoto says, because enough is enough.

“God, look at them wrapped about that book,” Watanabe sighs, ignoring him. “I wish I was that book.”

Frowning, Iwamoto looks over to the shelves, where their newest hire is shelving books. Sakuma is almost too short to reach the top shelf, but he can do it if he stretches on his toes, bouncing a little to whatever song is on his mp3 player. His fingers do look good wrapped around that book, Iwamoto thinks before he catches himself.

“And his little frown, so adorable,” Watanabe sighs.

“What?” Iwamoto asks. “He’s not—” He follows Watanabe’s line of sight more closely and realizes that Watanabe is actually lusting over one of their regular patrons, a university student who is indeed frowning deeply at his textbook. “Oh.”

“You were totally staring at the new guy, weren’t you?” Watanabe laughs in delight when Iwamoto only scowls at him. “You were! Good job, he’s a cutie too. Not as cute as Miyadate-kun, but…”

“That guy?” Iwamoto jerks a thumb at worried-university-kun. “How do you even know his name?”

“Didn’t give him back his student ID when he checked out a reserve book.” Watanabe taps his fingers against the laminated square of plastic in front of him on the desk. He looks so proud of himself that it’s disturbing. “He’s so flustered about his marketing final he didn’t even notice, poor thing. But he’ll be back to see me, oh yes. It’s practically our first date.”

“You are a mercenary,” Iwamoto says in disgust. He swats at Watanabe’s rear, since it’s sticking out conveniently. Just then Miyadate pushes his chair back and heads for the bathroom, and Watanabe all but jumps the counter in the rush to corner his prey.

“Be right back!” he calls over his shoulder. “Fifteen minute break!”

“Fifteen second break, knowing you,” Iwamoto grumbles under his breath.

“Where’s he off to in such a rush?” a voice says behind Iwamoto, making him jump. He turns to find Fukasawa, despite it being his day off. “Hey, Abe-chan back there? It’s his shift right now, yeah?” Iwamoto looks at him blandly, but Fukasawa’s grin doesn’t dim.

“He’s in the back office,” Iwamoto gives in with a sigh. Fukasawa thanks him before scurrying off to the office, and Iwamoto wonders if he dares hope they at least won’t muss up the papers on his desk. Again. “I’m surrounded by idiots.”

His eyes stray back to Sakuma, still re-shelving, and when he stretches up for the top shelf again, his T-shirt rides up just enough to flash a teasing strip of tanned skin. When Sakuma turns suddenly and catches him staring, Iwamoto freezes.

Then Sakuma gives him a little smirk, and Iwamoto jerks his eyes away and back down in front of him, cheeks burning.

After that it feels like Sakuma is everywhere Iwamoto goes. If he’s in the back trying to work out payroll sheets, Sakuma is fixing the copier. If Iwamoto is checking on the study rooms, Sakuma is stapling new flyers to the bulletin board. Their library is small, but it’s not that small.

“You should just go for it,” Watanabe advises the next week, leaning on the front desk like usual. “He’s totally flirting with you.”

“I hired him, it’s completely inappropriate for me to ‘go for it,'” Iwamoto replies, keeping his eyes firmly on the pile of inter-library loan books he’s trying to check in. “Besides, you and university-kun over there are going for it enough for all of us. Aren’t his exams done yet?”

“He was finished last Wednesday,” Watanabe says with affection. “He just keeps coming here and pretending to study because he’s too shy to ask me out on a real date. Ooh, we should double! You can ask Sakuma-kun.”

“Um,” Abe sticks his head out from around the next computer monitor down. “I’m not sure Sakuma is exactly Hikaru’s…type.”

“You have a type? Is your type people?” Watanabe asks, making Iwamoto scowl. “Because I’ve never even seen you date a person.”

“No, I mean, um,” Abe stumbles over his words. “I mean, Sakuma’s a nice guy, I really like him, but…um…”

“He’s got another job,” Fukasawa puts in from behind Iwamoto, making him jump.

“Will you quit doing that?!” Iwamoto demands, whirling around to glare at Fukasawa and the book shelving cart that makes an awful squeaking racket whenever anybody else pushes it. “I’m going to put a bell on you!”

“Ooh, Abe-chan, you’d like that, right?” Fukasawa laughs when Abe’s cheeks turn pink and he ducks back behind his computer monitor. “But yeah, Sakuma’s other job is…you know, maybe it’s better if we just show you.”

“Say what?” Abe demands.

After they lock up for the night, Fukasawa is waiting for Iwamoto, grinning, and when Abe tries to escape, Fukasawa snags him by the arm with a practiced grip. “Just get in the car, please. Field trip time.”

Iwamoto rolls his eyes but complies, figuring it’ll be faster to give Fukasawa his way. He stares at nothing in particular out the window from the backseat while Abe chatters about his next semester classes and Fukasawa soothes his groundless worries with practiced ease. When the car pulls to a stop, Iwamoto does a double-take.

“This is a strip club!” he hisses, as if people outside the car might hear him. He points at Abe accusingly. “You knew about this? Abe-chan! What were you doing at a strip club?!”

“It was a friend’s birthday!” Abe wails, already blushing furiously. “They made me!”

“Ugh, let’s just get this over with,” Iwamoto demands, unbuckling his seatbelt and all but kicking open his door. They’ll just go in, see Sakuma bartending or whatever it is he does in there, not touch anything, especially not any of the ladies, and be on their way.

Unfortunately for Iwamoto’s dignity, it’s not that kind of strip club. The only lady in the place is in fact the bartender, while the only thing that Sakuma is tending is the center pole.

“Oh my god,” Iwamoto says, frozen in place as Sakuma tugs free the last piece of his schoolboy costume. Sakuma turns around just then and catches Iwamoto’s eye. There’s a flash of surprise on his face before it relaxes back into his low-lidded stage expression. When he starts sliding down with his back to the pole, Iwamoto turns tail and gets the hell out of there as fast as he can.

It’s a long, long night. Iwamoto spends it staring at his ceiling and only seeing Sakuma’s dark eyes and tousled hair, his skin tanned all the way down and dusted with glitter. Iwamoto can feel still feel the thump of the club music over his skin, and all he can think about is Sakuma rolling his body in time with it.

The next morning, Iwamoto is sleep deprived and full of hate for everything. He keeps his eyes glued to his papers as the rest of the staff comes in, grunting hello when prompted. It’s only when his office door clicks shut that Iwamoto looks up.

“Hi,” Sakuma says. “So you found out about my other job.”

“Uh-huh,” Iwamoto agrees. It’s too hard to look Sakuma in the eye when all he can think about is that schoolboy uniform and the pole, so he settles on looking somewhere around Sakuma’s shoulder.

“Are you freaking out?” Sakuma asks. “Afraid I might climb up on your desk and get rowdy?”

“Nope,” Iwamoto lies through his teeth. “What you do in your private time…I mean, your other time, doesn’t matter to me.” Even the shoulder is too hard, and Iwamoto drops his eyes the whole way back to his papers.

He nearly jumps out of his chair when fingers touch his jaw, forcing his head back up until he’s looking Sakuma in the eye.

“You’re a pretty awful liar,” Sakuma says, and he’s giving Iwamoto the same little smirk from the other day. “It’s really cute. Are you gonna freak out even more if I kiss you?”

“I kind of, um,” Iwamoto manages, despite being distracted by how brown Sakuma’s eyes are, and how cute the scatter of beauty marks across his cheeks are. “I kind of think I’m at maximum freakout already.”

“Well, in that case…”

Iwamoto is not at all prepared for Sakuma to push his rolling chair back and climb right into his lap. Sakuma is heavier than Iwamoto would have thought for his small frame, his weight settling firmly on top of Iwamoto’s thighs. He puts his hands on Iwamoto’s shoulders and gives a slow body roll.

“Are you…” Iwamoto swallows hard when Sakuma does it again. “Is this seriously a lap dance?”

“Since you didn’t see the whole show earlier,” Sakuma leans forward to murmur in his ear. “You know, at the club the rule is no hands on the dancer? But you can touch me, if you want. VIP perk.”

Before Iwamoto can come up with an answer to that, Sakuma’s mouth is on his, his lips smooth and insistent as they move against Iwamoto’s. Iwamoto is kissing back before he can think to do anything else, his hands coming up to fist in the back of Sakuma’s T-shirt. Sakuma is so warm Iwamoto can feel it easily through the thin cotton, or maybe it’s him that’s too warm, skin flaring with heat everywhere Sakuma is touching him, which is basically everywhere when Sakuma twines arms tightly around Iwamoto’s neck.

His heart is racing when the kiss breaks, and Sakuma must hear it because he starts laughing quietly when he drags his lips down the side of Iwamoto’s throat. Sakuma presses his lips more deliberately over Iwamoto’s pulse point, and it’s all Iwamoto can do to keep from moaning loud enough to be heard at the periodicals desk.

“You like me, huh?” Sakuma asks. “Damn, that’s hot. You want me?”

“Uh,” Iwamoto manages. He does, damn does he ever, but there’s no way he can get those words out. There’s no way he can do anything but clutch at Sakuma’s back when Sakuma is kissing and nipping at his neck.

Fortunately Sakuma figures it out for himself when he reaches between Iwamoto’s legs and palms the bulge in Iwamoto’s jeans. “Mmm. If you reach in my back pocket, you might find something useful.”

Iwamoto’s barely even surprised when he finds a condom and a travel packet of lube. Sakuma throws back his head and laughs when Iwamoto asks if those are freebies from his club or what. Sakuma hops up to kick his jeans off, and Iwamoto can’t even manage to work his own belt, fingers turning clumsy, completely distracted by Sakuma stripping in front of him.

“You’re just no use at all, are you?” Sakuma teases, reaching to undo Iwamoto’s belt and zipper for himself. He tugs Iwamoto’s cock free and strokes him from base to tip, making Iwamoto slump back against his chair with a groan. “Don’t think for a second you’re getting out of doing any work, by the way. I’ve been thinking about your fingers ever since you hired me.”

Thinking about Watanabe’s comments and Sakuma’s fingers wrapped around the books, Iwamoto can only laugh helplessly. Sakuma climbs back into his lap, somehow balanced enough even in rolling chair that Iwamoto can get a hand where Sakuma wants it.

“I’m a professional, don’t try this at home,” Sakuma warns, making Iwamoto laugh some more as Sakuma tears open the packet of lube and squeezes some on Iwamoto’s fingers. “Please tell me you’ve done this before.”

“Yeah,” Iwamoto grunts, focused on finding Sakuma’s hole by touch. He traces the wrinkled edge of it with his slick finger. He’s not exactly trying to tease, he just likes the feel of it, but it has Sakuma squirming and telling him to just do it already. When he pushes the first finger inside, his breath catches at how hot and tight Sakuma is inside.

“Your fingers feel so good,” Sakuma encourages, keeping himself busy by unbuttoning Iwamoto’s shirt. Sakuma’s fingers are clever when he drags them up and down Iwamoto’s chest, and Iwamoto wants them all over, wants so much more of Sakuma even though he’s got a lapful of him already. “Hikaru, I can call you Hikaru, right?”

“Yeah,” Iwamoto agrees, willing to agree to just about anything right now.

“Want more, Hikaru,” Sakuma says. He groans softly when Iwamoto pushes the second finger in, and Iwamoto’s the one squirming now, not sure he’s going to last long enough to make it worth it for either of them. “Want you.”

Somehow they get the condom on Iwamoto, and then Sakuma is sinking down onto his cock, fingers digging into Iwamoto’s shoulders and back arched, so beautiful that Iwamoto’s breath catches in his throat.

“The way you look at me feels so good,” Sakuma murmurs, holding still for a moment and just looking down at Iwamoto, the reversal of their usual heights kind of funny. “You think I’m worth looking at?”

“Yeah,” Iwamoto answers breathlessly. His heart is racing so fast he can barely hear anything besides the blood rushing in his ears, and Sakuma isn’t even moving yet.

For some reason that makes Sakuma grin. “You gonna just say yeah the whole time?”

“Yeah,” Iwamoto answers of course, and Sakuma laughs. Iwamoto is starting to love his laugh already, how easy and carefree it is.

“A man of few words, okay,” Sakuma says agreeably. He starts rocking his hips a little, getting his bearings. “I can live with that, for a guy who looks at me like that, with fingers like those. And you feel pretty good inside me, too.”

Iwamoto doesn’t understand at all how Sakuma can still be talking in full sentences when all he can think about is the squeeze of Sakuma around him and the round curve of Sakuma’s ass under his hands. It must mean he can do better, so Iwamoto tries shifting his hips up the next time Sakuma sinks down. Sakuma’s eyes flutter and he gives a sharp gasp of surprise. Iwamoto uses what little focus he can muster to make Sakuma gasp that same way over and over.

He looks amazing, Iwamoto thinks, so much better than he’d been imagining on his own. Sakuma’s skin is flushed pink under all those cute beauty marks across his cheeks, and Iwamoto wants to kiss every single one of them, every curve and dip of his throat and collar bones and shoulders. He wishes like crazy they were in his bed so that he could tip Sakuma onto his back and have him all spread out under him, make him really beg for it.

“Hikaru,” Sakuma purrs, arms curling tight around Iwamoto’s neck as they both start to speed up. “So good. You can touch me, right? Go on, say ‘yeah’ again.”

Iwamoto gives him a dirty look, but it just makes Sakuma laugh, and there’s no chance that Iwamoto won’t do exactly what he asks. Sakuma’s cock is hard and leaking before Iwamoto ever touches him. He expects Sakuma to get louder when he starts stroking him, but Sakuma actually gets quieter, biting his lip. Iwamoto wonders for a second if he’s doing something wrong, before his lust-fogged brain works out that Sakuma is actually trying not to be so loud that everybody comes running.

Sakuma’s fingers dig into Iwamoto’s shoulders even tighter, tight enough to get him with his nails a little, before he comes with a shudder that makes Iwamoto’s chair creak. His head drops onto Iwamoto’s as he struggles for breath, still shivering.

“Want me to stop?” Iwamoto asks, letting go of Sakuma’s cock to put it back on Sakuma’s waist.

“Don’t, don’t,” Sakuma tells him, voice low and slurred. “Feels good, keep going. Don’t stop.”

“Yeah,” Iwamoto agrees. Sakuma is barely moving at all now, so it’s all Iwamoto’s own rhythm. Sakuma seems to like it, loose-limbed from orgasm and making soft, approving noises right in Iwamoto’s ear. With encouragement like that, it doesn’t take long for Iwamoto to come as well, buried as deep as he can get inside Sakuma.

He isn’t sure how long they stay like that, clinging tightly until their sweat is drying, Sakuma’s arms still around Iwamoto’s neck, Iwamoto’s arms tight around Sakuma’s waist. Iwamoto doesn’t want to let go, already starting to worry about what’s going to happen when Sakuma pulls back and they have to talk about whatever this is, what they’re going to do about any of this mess.

“Hey.” Sakuma pulls back just far enough to press a kiss to Iwamoto’s forehead, smoothing his mussed hair back out of the way. “Quit worrying so loud. You did just fine.”

Iwamoto sits back far enough that they can look at each other. “That’s not what I was concerned about.”

“I know.” Sakuma smiles at him, eyes still low-lidded and a little fond. “So after work you should take me out to dinner, okay? And then you should take me home with you so I don’t have to be so quiet next time. If that sounds okay.”

“It sounds good,” Iwamoto says quickly, so quickly it makes Sakuma chuckle and lean in for a kiss. It’s weirdly gentle after the rushed sex they just had, and Iwamoto likes it all the more for it.

They try and put themselves to rights as best they can without a mirror and using only the box of industrial tissues on Iwamoto’s desk. Sakuma jokes that they might need to bring in their own, fancier tissues if this is going to be a regular thing, and Iwamoto blushes and bats his hands away to try and re-button his shirt without Sakuma’s ‘help.’

When they finally make it out front, nobody comments on their absence. Fukasawa is behind Abe at one of the computers, arms around him trying to teach him out to do something, but it’s obviously not going to stick given how pink Abe’s cheeks are. Watanabe is leaning on the desk, nearly the whole way over it, talking to Miyadate, who looks almost as flustered as Abe does.

“Look, there they are,” Watanabe says, waving a hand at Iwamoto and Sakuma. “You guys will double with us right? Come on, it’ll be fun!”

“Leave them alone,” Fukasawa orders before Iwamoto can answer, barely looking up. “Let them go on their first date by themselves, geez.” He glances up, eyes sparkling wickedly. “Unless you want to count yesterday.”

“Hey!” Iwamoto snaps.

Fukasawa nudges Abe with an elbow. “Looks like we’re gonna have to find a new place to make out.” He ignores Abe hissing his name. “I guess we can always break in one of the couches in the study rooms.”

“Too late,” Watanabe puts in. Miyadate stares at floor, the tips of his ears turning red.

“Sorry, Shota,” Sakuma answers the original question, putting a hand up to hide his grin. “Maybe next time, okay? And introduce Miyadate-kun to Abe-chan properly, you know they’re both freaking out about the same classes, right?” He strolls off to do the re-shelving, giving Iwamoto’s ass a little pinch on the way by just to make him jump.

“See?” Watanabe says in approval as Miyadate and Abe make awkward self-introductions and shake hands. “I told you hiring that guy was a good plan. You should listen to me more often. Oh, and when you take him home, tell him to give you a VIP dance because daaaaaamn.”

“Surrounded by idiots,” Iwamoto growls, swatting at him, but it only makes Watanabe laugh. Iwamoto glances past Watanabe’s shoulder to the clock, already working out how many hours and minutes there are left until closing.

• 

  By Micchan, 2016.09.24 @ 12:31 pm

  *_*
  This was so cute… and HOT.. but cute, because Sakuma is CUTE and HOT and GAH. I love him very much and Iwamoto too and they are perfect together and gaaaah
  Pretty blushing Abe is so pretty too *-*
  And Iwamoto’s hard life :’D
  I loved all about this fic

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