#rinnesaros

He pays more attention after that, because surely Juuse wouldn’t be interested in an old guy like him. Only … Juuse’s behavior is certainly proving him wrong. And it escalates, once Pekka’s actually paying attention to him, looking for proof and finding so much more than he thought. There’s an edge to the joke when Juuse calls him Daddy, and he all but snuggles up to Pekka’s side when they’re watching TV or sitting together on the plane or bus. Juuse starts to push closer, insinuating himself into Pekka’s space when he’s cooking and standing just a touch too close on the ice.

Frankly, Pekka isn’t sure what to do when Juuse starts wearing skimpier clothes around the house - tight shirts and short shorts that don’t hide any of his relatively-petite but muscled physique. Pekka knows it’s because he’s paying closer attention, because looking out for Juuse has turned into looking at Juuse. And a guilty part of him is very aware that he doesn’t want it to stop.

It’s an off night that everything reaches a breaking point. Juuse’s in a soft pair of those skimpy shorts and a faded tee shirt, sprawled out next to Pekka on the couch. They’re watching some action film Juuse had wanted to see but - just shy of halfway through - Juuse’s breathing has deepened into the unmistakeable pattern of sleep. He’s listing into Pekka, pillowed by the soft cushions.

Insanity, maybe, prods Pekka to give into the urge to touch. It’s simple, his fingers brushing Juuse’s leg just above the knee where his hair is downy and skin so very soft. Juuse sighs softly, the quiet sound enough to make Pekka jerk his hand away and sending a hot blush across his face.

“Pekka?” Sleepily, Juuse opens his eyes, looking puzzled for a moment.

“Sorry. Go back to sleep.”

There’s a beat of silence and then - “You - you can touch. If you want.”

“Juuse-”

“Pekka. Please?” Reaching out to gingerly catch Pekka’s wrist, Juuse draws his hand towards his thigh again, sucking in a little breath when Pekka’s fingers touch his skin. It’s terribly easy to let it happen; Juuse draws Pekka’s fingers up his leg, almost torturously slow. He watches Pekka’s face, gaze flicking between it and the contact of their skin like he’s waiting for Pekka to tell him to stop.

Cupping Juuse through his shorts feels like stepping off a cliff: simple and terrifying all at once. Juuse gasps, clutching Pekka’s hand closer and spreading his legs, rolling up into the contact. The movement grinds his cock against Pekka’s palm, and Pekka can feel how Juuse gets harder with every pass. A flush deepens in Juuse’s cheeks as he grinds against Pekka’s hand, teeth catching at his lip to muffle his quiet sounds. His eyes never leave Pekka’s face, fluttering closed momentarily only to open again.

“Pekka…”

Curling his hand more definitively around Juuse’s cock, Pekka feels his dick twitch when Juuse moans aloud, panting as his hips hitch up into the pressure. Pekka watches as Juuse uses his hand to work himself, desperate and needy in a way Pekka hasn’t felt in years. He can feel it when Juuse comes in his shorts, the gentle throb of his dick and the spreading wet-warmth beneath the thin fabric.

There’s the faintest flash of insecurity when Juuse looks up at him now, and Pekka wants to smother it, leaning over to press their mouths together at last, moving his hand from between Juuse’s legs to his hip so he can guide him closer. Juuse’s mouth is soft under Pekka’s, warm and wet and oh so suggestible as he follows Pekka’s lead. A hand lands on Pekka’s thigh, high up and he has to pull away to gasp at the touch.

“Can I?” Juuse asks softly, edging his fingers toward Pekka’s cock.

There are a hundred things Pekka should say, about how he’s supposed to be mentoring Juuse, about how much older Pekka is. But Juuse presses closer, breath ghosting over Pekka’s mouth as he brushes their lips together.

“Pekka, please?” And really, Pekka’s setting a dangerous precedent by giving in to such a simple plea again, but he swears it would take a stronger man to turn Juuse down. His hand tightens on Juuse’s hip as he works Pekka’s pants open and dips long, clever fingers inside. He pulls Pekka free of his boxers, giving himself just enough room to work. Pekka wants to look, but Juuse’s mouth is too tempting and he draws him in for kiss after kiss, groaning when Juuse does something he particularly likes.

A slow, pleasant burn coils in Pekka’s gut until he’s coming messy and wet over Juuse’s fingers, gripping his hip so tightly there are sure to be bruises. Juuse whines when Pekka sinks his teeth into his lip, trying to muffle the sound he makes, but his hand doesn’t falter on Pekka’s cock until Pekka nudges him gently away. There’s a moment where they’re panting into each others’ mouths until Juuse turns his head to lap slowly at his come-covered hand, cleaning himself up in slow, teasing kitten-licks.

“Little showoff,” Pekka breathes, finally slumping back against the couch. He grabs tissues from the coffee table, cleaning himself off and tucking his cock away. Juuse does the same for his hand, but wrinkles his nose at the mess in his shorts.

It could be awkward - is heading there quickly, really - but Juuse looks at Pekka and asks shyly, “Shower?”

Pausing for a moment, Pekka nods, standing to lead Juuse upstairs. The master bath has a shower large enough for them both, and Juuse doesn’t waste time cuddling up to Pekka once they’re standing under the warm spray.

“Was that okay?” Juuse murmurs. He lets Pekka tilt his chin up so he can look him in the face, Pekka shielding Juuse from the water with his body as he looks him over.

“You really want this? I’m much older than you, Juuse. You could find someone closer to your age, someone -”

But Juuse’s already shaking his head, pushing himself up as far as he can reach on his tiptoes and coaxing Pekka to lean down so they can kiss. “I want this. I want you, Pekka. Not someone else.”

He shouldn’t. They shouldn’t. But Pekka draws Juuse in tight and kisses his forehead softly.