There was a killer headache pounding at the back of Yata’s skull when he woke up – so bad that for the first moment, he just squeezed his eyes shut tighter and groaned.
Kusanagi’s wedding. The memory came back at once as he started to adjust to the pain – as much as he could, anyway. Right, yeah, he’d been at Kusanagi’s wedding and there had been cheap drinks – Chitose had even lent him money so that he could get drunk right along with the rest of them. After that…
After that it got a little hazy.
Yata brought up his right hand and pressed hard against the bridge of his nose, not quite feeling up to opening his eyes and facing the light that was trying to get through his eyelids and into his brain. He sort of remembered laughing a lot – chatting with the rest of his Homra buddies – and then looking across the room for some reason and noticing someone sitting at a table alone staring at their PDA with characteristic annoyance.
Saruhiko was there.
Oh yeah, that. Right. Kusanagi had the bad taste to marry that ice-cold Awashima woman, and so a large group from Scepter 4 had been there, too. They’d been seated on the opposite end of the room from Homra – probably a smart idea – and the Blue King had made some long-winded speech about… something, who knew, the guy was crazy… and the rest of the Blues had been pretty well hanging out the same way Yata and his group were. Except for Saruhiko, who sat by himself at their table after everyone else had moved on, checking the time every few minutes and looking typically bored.
I went over there. He remembered that clearly, breaking away from his own group of friends and making his way across the room, but he couldn’t remember why. What the fuck had he been thinking?
The last clear image in his head was Saruhiko looking up at him, his expression some odd mix of unimpressed and irritated and just plain baffled, and then… everything melted into a blur.
He sort of remembered arguing about vegetables – what – and whether or not the Blue King was a sadist or something – fuck, he must have been drunk off his ass – and then, oh shit, he’d cried – he’d just have to hope to god that it was alone in a bathroom somewhere – and puked, more than once, and had the vague impression of being dragged out of the hall by someone, probably Kamamoto, and obviously dumped off at home.
… He was at home, right?
Yata risked opening his eyes a crack, and then shut them again and pressed his head back against the pillow, with a froggy-sounding “shit”.
This was definitely not home. It was, in fact, a hotel.
The same hotel that the wedding had been at, actually, which meant it probably cost half of his month’s rent per night. Whoever left me here had better have paid for the room. He really didn’t want to have to make a choice between eating scraps for the next two weeks, being kicked out of his apartment, and going to jail for not being able to pay a hotel fee.
Now that he knew where he was, too, he did sort of remember being in the room last night. He had the vague impression of clinging to someone, being dropped on the bed, and hands that weren’t his tugging off his shirt and undoing the fly to his pants.
Holy shit… The last bit had his heart jumping up into his throat. Did I… did I score last night? He was kind of sticky and gross and wearing only his underwear… and lying in a hotel bed…
Ignoring the headache still demanding his attention – and the fact that he had to piss pretty badly – Yata searched back desperately through his memory. Nothing.
Fuck, did I score and can’t even remember how it was?
Something shifted on the bed next to him.
They’re still here. Yata felt his heart start to pound and slid his eyes open again. Moment of truth. He took in a long, steadying breath, and turned his head to the left.
A lifetime of preparation couldn’t have readied him for the face that met his gaze.
“WHAT THE FUCK?” His voice came out as an embarrassing mix of squeaks and cracks. He jerked upright, suffered a wave of nausea, and fell back against the pillow with another curse.
Saruhiko. Fucking Saruhiko was lying on the bed next to him.
What. The. Fuck.
Yata let out a long, heatfelt groan, and attempted to bring both hands up to cover his face.
The right hand came up no problem. The left… caught on something.
Further inspection revealed that the ‘something’ was a handcuff.
… the other end of which was clamped around Saruhiko’s right wrist.
“You have got to be fucking kidding me!” This was a joke, right? Somewhere, Chitose or Eric or someone (maybe a Blue – they looked like they might be sadistic pricks, too) was laughing his ass off. Yata ignored his insistent bladder and the headache screaming for his attention in favor of staring at the cuff on his wrist in a kind of aggravated disbelief. There was no way in hell he would have ever agreed to this, drunk or not.
“You’re telling me,” Saruhiko’s voice said suddenly, and Yata jerked his head – oh, bad idea, ouch – to find his former friend glowering at him, still blurry-eyed, from the pillow. “Exactly what time do you think it is, Misaki? Can’t you have your pathetic post-drunken freakout at a decent hour?”
“Don’t call me that!” was out of Yata’s mouth before his thoughts had even caught up; he stared back at Saruhiko with as much hostility as he could summon with his head still pounding and a suspicious queasy feeling building at the pit of his stomach. “What the hell is this?”
Saruhiko clicked his tongue in an obviously irritated way, meeting Yata’s gaze with flat-out obstinance. “Handcuffs.”
“That’s not what I meant, you fucking asshole!” Goddamn, he’d forgotten how irritating Saru could be. It was like talking to a brick wall half the time. “Why the hell are we handcuffed together?”
“Why not ask your former self?” That came with a pointed stare. “You put them on us, and then you flushed the keys down the toilet when I tried to get them back.” He smirked then, and his voice took on the drawling tone that never failed to get on Yata’s nerves. “Apparently you turn into an even bigger idiot when you’re drunk, Misaki.”
“The hell? There’s no way I did that!” The denial was almost as much to convince himself as it was a rejection of Saruhiko’s words; the holes in his vague impressions from the night before were starting to alarm him a bit. But that wasn’t the point. “Anyway, just get them off!”
“Right, I’ll get right on that.” Saruhiko raised his eyebrows sardonically. “Just as soon as you explain how to remove standard-issue, aura-resistant, titanium alloy handcuffs without a key, a locksmith, or help from my commanding officer.”
Yata stared at him incredulously. “You’ve got to be kidding me!” Except that this was Saruhiko, who probably didn’t even know how to kid people. “What the hell?” he groaned, and flopped back onto the bed, bringing up his free hand to press his palm hard against his aching forehead. “This is the worst!”
That earned him another of those annoyed tongue clicks. “You did this to yourself, so don’t complain to me. I could have just left you passed out in the hall for the chambermaids to clean up.”
Yata cracked one eye open at that comment, meeting his former friend’s gaze in a moment of rare gravity. “Why didn’t you?”
“I’m still asking myself that one,” Saruhiko responded drily.
It wasn’t the first time his questions had been avoided. Yata didn’t bother to press further. More importantly… “So, uh, last night.”
“Last night…?” Saruhiko prompted, mocking his tone.
“Shut up, just let me finish!” He paused, trying to think of the least humiliating way to word his question. “You and I didn’t – I mean, we didn’t do… you know.” His cheeks felt hot already – goddamnit. Why did this have to be so awkward? “That – that sort of stuff. Right?”
The expression on Saruhiko’s face was a mix of confusion and irritation. “What are you going on about?”
“Ugh, don’t make me say it!” Yata covered his eyes again, aggravated and embarrassed. “We’re – we’re mostly naked in bed together, all right? What am I supposed to think?”
There was a moment of startled silence; when he risked a glance over, it was in time to see understanding dawn on Saruhiko’s face. “Huh.” Then the dreaded smirk spread across it. “Misaki… are you telling me you’re too much of a virgin to actually say the word ‘sex’?”
“Shut up!” This was beyond humiliating; Yata felt his face burn, and shut his eyes again. “Just answer the stupid question, okay?”
“You don’t remember?” That hateful, mocking drawl again. “My feelings are hurt, Misaki.”
“Will you stop calling me that and just give me a straight answer already?” There was a horrible, gnawing feeling of dread growing in his stomach – it definitely wasn’t mixing well with the rot from the hangover. He was probably going to have to puke; it felt really awful.
Puking in a hotel bathroom with Saruhiko hanging over his head and taunting him – great.
He still had to piss, too, really badly. Fucking hell.
“Lost your virginity, and you don’t even remember, huh?” Saruhiko commented, lightly. “How unlucky for you – I guess you still mentally qualify as a virgin then, don’t you, Misaki?”
Yata covered his eyes with his right arm, grimacing. His first time, and he couldn’t even remember. And it had to be with Saruhiko, of all people. Why him?
If it was back when they were friends, yeah, he could see it – there weren’t many things he wouldn’t have done if Saru had asked him, even without alcohol. And, if he was being honest with himself, he couldn’t say he wouldn’t have been maybe a little bit excited with the idea. Maybe. A little bit.
But that was back then, and this was now, and Saruhiko was a traitor who pissed him off. But still… still, somehow…
His head throbbed. I fucking can’t think about this now. There was nothing coming back to him, anyway, so maybe he could pretend it hadn’t happened?
It was worth a shot.
Yata lifted his arm, wincing as the light entered his vision again, and carefully pushed himself up. It was becoming close to impossible to ignore his bladder, so he might as well face the inevitable. “I have to piss.”
“That’s an interesting shift in the conversation.”
“Shut up.” Yata scowled at him. His stomach was still churning unpleasantly, and he really didn’t want to find out what would happen if he had to deal with both issues at once. “That has nothing to do with this, okay? Just get up, and let’s get this over with.”
Saruhiko clicked his tongue again, sitting up. “I should just let you piss yourself.”
“As if you’d really do that.” He at least still knew that much about Saru, despite everything. “You still have to sleep here, too.”
The trip to the bathroom was… uncomfortable. Yata could already feel bile trying to rise at the back of his throat, and did his best to swallow it back. If he puked first, there was a chance he’d piss himself while he was at it, and he’d been humiliated enough already. There was only so much he could take.
“Don’t watch me,” he said crossly, fumbling one-handed with his underwear. No matter what they’d done last night, he had no intention of purposefully bringing Saru’s hand anywhere near that particular area.
Another sharp ‘tsk’ answered him. “Don’t worry.”
It felt like the longest, most awkward piss ever, and it didn’t help that his head was still throbbing and his stomach was becoming increasingly unhappy. Yata’s fingers shook when he moved to flush the toilet, and he ended up having just enough time to watch the water drain out of it before he was doubled over and emptying the contents of his stomach.
Saruhiko muttered something under his breath that sounded like ‘disgusting’ and ‘pathetic’, but Yata couldn’t summon the will to raise his head and glare. When the last of his heaving finally stilled, he brought up his free hand and flushed the toilet again, breathing heavily.
“Done?” Saruhiko asked him neutrally, after a moment.
Yata’s mouth tasted foul. “Is there water?” he managed, and inwardly winced at the whining in his tone.
There was a short moment of silence, and then Saruhiko shifted behind him, the sink started up, and a moment later he was being handed a cup. “Here.”
The gesture was so unexpected that for a few seconds, Yata just blinked at the offering. “Thanks,” he responded, after that passed, and took it.
No response – when he risked a glance up, Saruhiko wasn’t looking at him.
I don’t get it. Yata rinsed out his mouth with the first two gulps of water. His head was still aching, and it was hard to focus, but his thoughts wouldn’t shut up. He didn’t understand why someone who constantly went out of his way to mock and insult him would bother to be nice to him now. It was another piece to add to that collection of confusing, half-hopeful moments when it had seemed like maybe… just maybe…
It was stupid, of course, but every time Yata thought he’d finally given up and faced reality, something like this happened and he realized he was still clinging to hope in some stubborn part of his brain that just refused to let go.
Maybe that was why he’d gone over to Saruhiko last night.
Maybe that’s why you slept with him, too, his brain added, unhelpfully.
Yata gulped down the rest of the water, and tried to push that thought out of his mind. He could… he could deal with it later. Somehow. “M’going back to bed.”
“Finally,” Saruhiko muttered, waiting as he pushed himself painstakingly back to his feet.
With everything that had happened, Yata had thought it would be hard to fall asleep again, but apparently that wasn’t the case, because he barely remembered climbing into bed after Saruhiko and laying his head back on the pillow when he drifted awake again.
The headache had settled into a sort of faded, dull ache, but his throat was parched and he definitely had to piss again.
And, unfortunately, being handcuffed to Saruhiko wasn’t just a creepy drunken nightmare because the first thing Yata saw when he opened his eyes was his former friend, sitting up on his side of the bed and frowning down at his PDA.
He must have shifted or something, because Saruhiko immediately lowered the device and turned to face him. “It’s about time you woke up,” he said, without preamble. “The chambermaid dropped off our clothes over an hour ago – I’m surprised you slept through it.”
Yata blinked at him, still not quite awake. “What do you mean ‘dropped off our clothes’?”
“You threw up all over them, so I called for laundry service last night.” Saruhiko’s voice was flat. “Also, it’s one in the afternoon, I have to use the washroom, and we both need showers. You stink.”
“Don’t say it like it’s just me who stinks!” Yata shot him an irritated look. “Anyway, laundry service, seriously? How much extra do you think that costs?”
Saruhiko shrugged. “I couldn’t care less – I’ll be expensing it anyway.”
Yata stared at him, nonplussed. “Is that even okay? It’s not like you were here working.”
“I was told attendance was mandatory – otherwise, I wouldn’t have bothered to show up. The Captain booked the rooms, anyway.” A sharp prod to his shoulder followed those words. “Can you just get moving? Or are you planning to stay in bed all day?”
“Yeah, yeah, whatever.”
Pissing wasn’t any less awkward than it had been earlier, and standing there waiting for Saruhiko to finish was no better. Worse, in fact, because he didn’t bother to work one-handed and Yata was forced to maneuver his own hand so that it was as far from the ‘action’ as he could get it with the length of the chain on the cuffs.
Such an asshole…
Showering turned out to be more complicated. It wouldn’t have been such a big deal in a public bath or locker room, but the hotel bathroom was not designed to accommodate two people at once. It was either take turns or spoon.
As far as Yata was concerned, there was no choice at all.
“This is a waste of time,” Saruhiko muttered, after a heated argument that resolved with Yata’s thrice-repeated declaration that he would go without showering before he’d agree to share that small a space.
“Shut up! And don’t watch me!” Yata pulled the curtain shut with force, his left arm held out towards the opening at the back. He’d have to shower facing forward the whole time, but it was infinitely better than the alternative.
Saru’s irritated tongue click answered him. “Seriously? You’ve got nothing I haven’t seen. Multiple times. Up close and personal, in fact.”
Yata’s hand jerked on the faucet, and he yelped as a blast of cold water hit him square in the chest. “F-fuck you!” he sputtered out, feeling his cheeks grow hot. As if he’d needed the reminder. “I was drunk, okay? Don’t think it means anything.”
Saruhiko hummed, low and amused. “Misaki… you really don’t have any memory of last night, do you?”
He shot a suspicious look towards the back of the shower, where the cuff curled around the curtain. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
“Nothing.” The word drawled out with almost tangible insincerity. “You do know alcohol only loosens inhibitions, right? For example, if you’re crying all over someone about how they should never leave you, that probably means – ”
“All right, already!” Fuck, so the crying thing had been in public. Yata mentally cursed himself. “Just shut up and let me finish!”
“Now that sounds like something you said last night.”
He had to clench his teeth against the urge to retort. Goddamnit, this sucked. His first time should’ve been a triumph, not a moment of drunken weakness with someone who didn’t actually give two shits about him. And he couldn’t even remember! That was seriously the worst part, despite everything.
Yata shut his eyes, ducking his head under the shower spray. He didn’t feel any different. Somehow he’d expected to have some physical after-effect from having sex – at least sore muscles or something, right? He felt no different than any other morning – other than the hangover. And he didn’t even have fragments of memories – skin on skin, kissing, what the orgasm felt like…
Fucking nothing at all. He got the knowledge that he’d lost his virginity to Saruhiko, and that was it. What a shitty deal.
Alcohol only loosens inhibitions. Yata tilted his head back to wring the water out of his eyes, and tried his best not to think about what sorts of things might have happened last night. Having to explain away an awkward boner would seriously just be icing on top of the shit cake of this whole experience.
The fact that thinking about sex with Saruhiko was likely to give him an awkward boner in the first place was already a blow to his pride.
“Do you always take this long in the shower?” Saruhiko shoved a towel at his chest almost as soon as he’d opened the curtains, stepping over the edge of the tub without pausing to allow him to vacate it first. “You’re like a girl. Subconsciously living up to your name, hm, Misaki?”
“Sh-shut up!” Yata scrambled to climb out of the shower before their bodies made contact – with his earlier thoughts still fresh in his mind, their close proximity made him more than a little nervous. He didn’t quite succeed – his shoulder brushed Saru’s arm near the top – and the feel of his wet skin sliding against Saru’s brought heat rushing to his face, all the way from his neck to the tips of his ears. He shoved the towel over it aggressively, keeping his back to the shower as much as he could with his left arm bent back.
Fuck, how embarrassing… What’s with that reaction, anyway?
“You better not have used up all the hot water,” was the only comment he got, and then the curtain snapped shut behind him.
Yata let out a low breath, and focused on drying himself off.
“Oh, by the way,” Saru’s voice called back to him, as he was pulling his underwear back on, “I strongly recommend you make use of the complimentary mouthwash. All of it, in fact. And be thorough about it.”
He glared back at the shower curtain. “I would’ve done that even without you telling me!”
“Yeah, yeah.” The words drawled out condescendingly. “Whatever you say.”
… It was really going to be a long day.
If he’d thought about it at all, Yata probably would’ve realized ahead of time just how awkward and embarrassing it was going to be to venture out in public. Not just because he was handcuffed to someone else – that was bad enough on its own – but also because it was impossible to put a shirt on properly. The best he’d been able to manage was to slide on the right half of his fancy button-up from the night before, pull the left half around his waist so as many of the buttons on the bottom of it were done up as possible, and throw the sleeve over his left shoulder to cover the exposed part of his torso.
It looked ridiculous, but it was better than walking around a 4 star hotel lobby with no shirt on while handcuffed to another man. Even as it was, he was aware of more than a few curious gazes, and his face was burning with the humiliation of it.
Why the hell did I do this to myself? He couldn’t even begin to fathom what his former, drunken self had been thinking.
That was assuming Saruhiko was telling the truth about how the handcuffs had ended up on them. Yata shot his former friend a disgruntled sidelong glance. He didn’t seem bothered by the attention, even though he looked at least as silly as Yata did.
It was seriously not fair.
After checking out and exiting the hotel, Saruhiko flagged them a taxi and that was when the next issue came up.
“Scepter 4 headquarters,” he told the cab briskly, sliding into the backseat.
Yata froze in the middle of climbing in after him. “Scepter 4? Are you kidding me?”
Saruhiko gave him a look that was something between ‘annoyance’ and ‘disbelief’. “You have some other place in mind where we can get these removed?” He shook the wrist with the handcuff meaningfully.
Yata didn’t budge. “Can’t we just meet someone somewhere and get the key?” He didn’t want to go anywhere near Scepter 4’s headquarters. No fucking way.
Saruhiko clicked his tongue. “I don’t know what happens at the places where you work, Misaki, but at Scepter 4, we are generally very busy doing actual work. No one has time to deliver a handcuff key.” He shook his head, dismissively. “Just get in.”
This was such bullshit. “God fucking damnit,” Yata muttered, sliding the rest of the way into the cab and yanking the door shut behind him. “We’d better not be there long.”
“You can leave your complaints with the Captain if we are – I already briefed him on the situation this morning.”
How long had he been awake and sitting there while Yata slept, anyway? “Yeah, you’d better believe I’ll give that guy a piece of my mind if he keeps us waiting!”
A dismissive noise was his only answer; when he glanced over, Saruhiko was gazing out the window without any particular interest.
This guy really is depressing.
It hadn’t been like that when they were friends – at least, he hadn’t thought so. Yata tried not to think too much about that time; back when the rift between them was still fresh, thinking about Saru and their broken friendship was enough to make his chest constrict and a sharp ache rise at the back of his throat. These days, it was just a dull sense of regret and loss, but the memories weren’t pleasant to think about the way they should’ve been.
‘Why did you leave?’ He’d given up on asking that question, because Saru lied as easily as breathing and Yata didn’t really know him well enough anymore to tell when he was doing it.
If he ever had before. He’d assumed he had, but… well…
It was obvious he hadn’t known Saruhiko as well as he thought he had.
If anything, they got more stares at Scepter 4 than they had at the hotel. Yata was starting to get a little tired of it, and between that and his anxiety about being in the headquarters of the Blue clan, his temper was really getting frayed. He glared back any time someone met his gaze.
Go ahead and comment. I dare you.
Saruhiko stopped and turned, forcing Yata to a halt as well. “What?”
The Blue who’d spoken shifted a little, his gaze darting to the cuffs. “Just out of curiosity,” he began, a bit tentatively, “why did you handcuff this guy and bring him here?”
It was impossible not to notice the sidelong glances from the other Blues who were supposedly hard at work behind him. Yata felt his lip curl. So much for that ‘very busy’ bullshit Saruhiko had been spouting earlier.
Another one of those tongue clicks. “It would take too long to explain. Anyway, the key was lost.”
“Oh.” There was a momentary pause, and the Blue glanced back and forth from Yata to Saruhiko. “So, um, is there a reason your clothes are like that, or… ?”
Okay. Saruhiko would definitely come up with something for that, right? Or he’d answer that it was none of this asshole’s business. He wasn’t just going to come out and say –
“We had sex.”
Yata’s brain exploded in firy colors. He gaped at Saruhiko, who was meeting his co-worker’s astonished gaze with a completely straight – and uninterested – face. “Wha – wha – What the hell, Saru!? Why – !?”
Saruhiko talked right over him as if he hadn’t said anything. “I was on top.”
“THE HELL YOU WERE!” Yata could feel his face growing hot, and hands clenching into fists. He was dimly aware that just about every Blue in the room was gaping at them. What the fucking hell!?
That typical smirk was back in place. “How would you know, hmm, drunken virgin with no memory of last night?”
“Tha – That has nothing to do with it!” Fuck, he didn’t have a good argument for that. For all he knew, it was true. “There is no way I’d ever let you do that! No way!”
“Oh?” Saruhiko raised his eyebrow condescendingly. “My complete, not-drunk memory tells me otherwise. In fact” – he raised his free hand to his mouth with mock thoughtfulness – “I seem to recall you clinging to me and demanding I – what was it – oh yeah, ‘give it to me hard, Saru, I want it’.”
“There is no fucking way I said anything like that, you fucking liar!”
Saruhiko shrugged, clearly unconcerned. “Believe it or not – I couldn’t care less. But” – again with that smirk – “I wasn’t planning to have sex with you. You were the one who kept insisting and acting all needy and begging, until I finally gave in.”
There was red lining the edges of Yata’s vision; he was sure that he’d triggered his aura. “Shut the hell up, you lying bastard!”
“You’re certainly in a lively mode today, Fushimi.”
The sound of the Blue King’s voice was enough to break the tension. Yata jerked his head over his shoulder instinctively, and Saruhiko clicked his tongue, not bothering to hide his irritation as he half-turned to face his boss. “Captain.”
Munakata’s gaze shifted from Saruhiko to Yata and back again, with obvious amusement. “I hope I’m not interrupting.”
Yata gave him a dark look in return. Creepy bastard.
“What’s the status on the replacement key?” Saru asked, completely disregarding the comment.
“Coming with today’s shipment.” The Blue King lifted his eyes to take in the suspiciously silent members of his team behind their backs, and added, “Perhaps it would be best if you waited in the dorms.”
“I was thinking the same thing myself.” Saruhiko abruptly moved to go past him, tugging sharply at the cuffs and just about jerking Yata off balance. “Come on, Misaki.”
“Fucking – stop dragging me around!” Yata had to take a few jogging steps to catch up to him. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see those Scepter 4 assholes watching them, and it pissed him off more than ever. “What the hell is your problem?” he demanded, once they’d made it outside.
Saruhiko had the gall to raise an eyebrow at him. “I’m not the one with a problem.”
“My only problem is you, you asshole!” Yata scowled at him, wishing he could shoot hatred out of his eyes like a lazer and zap that condescending look off of Saruhiko’s face. “Why do you keep trying to piss me off?”
He got an amused, mocking hum for that, and nothing else.
Yata ground his teeth together against the urge to continue arguing. The headache from that morning was starting to come back – or maybe it was just the aggravation of dealing with Saru. He was pretty sure he was (mostly) not hung over any more, at least – but the day never went well when he started it off with puking and dehydration. And when you added the ‘I got drunk and slept with my former best friend, and he’s being a dick about it’ bit… yeah.
He really wished he could just remember! What the hell had they even done? Had Saruhiko actually been telling the truth back there, or was that just to piss him off? It was aggravating to be so unsure about his own actions.
The worst part was that it all seemed fucking plausible. He would die before he admitted that in front of those Blues, but he was (had been) a virgin, and sex was sex – if he was going to do it with another guy anyway, well… he couldn’t deny that he was kind of curious. Just as long as whoever he did it with wasn’t a complete jerk about it (which was ironic, considering his current situation). But he had his pride, damnit, and for Saru to throw it around like that in front of his co-workers was definitely a blow.
At least that Blue King had said that the key was on the way. Right now, that was the light at the end of the ugly dark tunnel that was this whole stinking day.
Once he got that cuff off of his wrist, he was out of here, and not looking back.
“Here we are,” Saruhiko said suddenly, scanning his PDA to unlock the door in front of them. “Mine’s just down the hall,” he added, as they stepped inside.
“Huh.” There wasn’t much to look at – just a row of doors, so far.
They didn’t have to go far – five or six doors down, maybe – and then another scan of the PDA gained them access to the room.
Yata wasn’t really sure what he’d expected Saruhiko’s dorm to look like, but he was surprised by how bare the real thing was. He hadn’t really thought about it much before, but now that the door was open and he was actually looking inside, the absence of books, games, or anything else that might count as entertainment was kind of unnerving. Aside from the unmade top bunk, the laptop on the desk, and the empty energy bar wrappers crammed into the garbage, it could’ve been unoccupied. Hell, even the way it was, it could’ve belonged to anyone.
Somehow… it seemed like Saruhiko just didn’t care enough to turn his room into any kind of actual home.
“Well, come in.” Saru was already working to remove his boots one-handed.
Yata shook his head, moving into the room and shutting the door behind him. “Hey,” he started, giving the room another dubious glance. “What the hell do you even do in here? There’s… nothing.”
Saruhiko clicked his tongue. “Is that any of your business?”
“I was just asking.” Yata kicked off his shoes and stepped up towards the garbage can, eyeing the wrappers doubtfully. “Don’t tell me your diet’s gotten even more unbalanced than it was before. You’re going to die of malnutrition or something, seriously.”
Another ‘tsk’, and Saruhiko strode towards the desk, giving the cuffs a sharp tug. “What do you care?”
“Well, excuse me for caring!” Yata shot him an irritated look, a little miffed when Saru took the chair and forced him to stand. “I guess someone who throws away comrades like they’re nothing wouldn’t know about that kind of thing, huh?”
“That’s rich coming from you.”
“Hah?” He blinked, then furrowed his eyebrows, staring at Saruhiko with agitation. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
“Nothing.” Saruhiko clicked his tongue a third time, frowning at his desk. “Forget I said anything.”
Yata stared at him in complete bafflement. ‘That’s rich coming from you’ – what? When had he ever thrown away a comrade? It had always been him being tossed aside: first in middle school, then by Saru, and then – however temporarily – by Kusanagi and what was left of Homra. And hadn’t he always been willing to forgive anyone who came back to him? He didn’t take friendships so lightly.
“You can’t just say something like that, and then act like it’s nothing,” he said finally, a little surprised by how low and even his voice came out. “What kind of accusation is that to make, when you were the one who left me behind?”
Saruhiko did look up then, and there was a spark of real interest in his eyes. “Oh, it’s you now, is it? Not ‘Homra’?”
“What? Don’t try to distract me.” Yata shook his head, agitated and a little confused by the turn in the conversation. “When did I ever throw away a comrade? I would have even taken you back, if you ever bothered to explain why. What the hell was going through your head?”
The silence between them was heavy.
Somehow, it was hard to meet Saruhiko’s gaze. There was something expectant – almost hungry – there, and Yata didn’t feel comfortable with it. He forced himself not to look away, though, and gave that old, unanswered question one more try. “Why did you throw our friendship away, Saruhiko?”
Another something unrecognizable spun to life in those eyes, and Saru abruptly shut them, letting out a brief, almost breathless-sounding, “heh.” When he looked up again, his smile was strangely sardonic. “That’s the first time you’ve ever asked me that.”
“What are you talking about?” Yata stared at him incredulously. “I’ve asked, and you just – ”
“You asked me why I betrayed Homra,” Saruhiko interrupted him, with clear impatience. “Over and over again – it’s always Homra and Mikoto with you. Four years later, and this is the first time our friendship ever came up.”
The faintest glimmer of understanding was breaking through the hazy confusion lingering in Yata’s head – somehow, this felt like an important distinction, although he’d never made it before. “Saru,” he started, more than a little uncertain.
“Misaki,” Saru mocked him, without any particular malice this time. “You know, I never liked Mikoto Suoh – right from the start. And the longer I knew him, the less I liked him.” His smile inched up, eyebrows coming down. “Suppose I told you that, back then. What would you have said to me? How would you have felt about me, after I said something like that?”
Even now, the statement was enough to make something inside Yata grow cold – although he wasn’t sure if it was rage or some other, even less pleasant emotion. He grimaced, shifting his gaze to the side. “I…” Mikoto was his idol, the person who had brought him into Homra and made him part of something bigger – something great. And Saru – Saru was…
“See?” There was a kind of strangely weary triumph in Saruhiko’s voice. “The answer to both your questions, right there. I wouldn’t give you the satisfaction of throwing me away, Misaki – not when I had the chance to beat you to it.” His tone darkened. “It’s easy to ignore someone you tossed aside. But you never forget the one who did it to you, do you?” He shifted in his chair, adapting that familiar mocking drawl. “You and I both know that first-hand.”
“You…” It came out through clenched teeth. Yata stared at the floor of Saruhiko’s dorm room, his hands curled into fists, back muscles taut, entire body shaking. The lump in his throat felt like a boulder. All those years… “God damn you, Saru… are you fucking kidding me?”
Letting out that shout was enough to break whatever spell had kept him immobile; Yata lunged forward and grabbed Saruhiko’s collar, bringing him roughly up to eye level. “Fuck you for assuming I’d throw you away! I might’ve been pissed off, I might’ve yelled, I don’t even know, hell, we could’ve had a big fucking fight about it! But you were my best friend, you asshole!” His vision was starting to blur around the edges; Yata didn’t even bother to mask the emotion in his voice. He felt too raw, like he’d opened a bunch of old, festering wounds and was bleeding out all over the place. “We could’ve worked through it! We could’ve tried! You didn’t even give me a goddamn chance!”
“I gave you a whole year!” Saru took hold of his wrist, his grip tight enough to be painful, his eyes almost manic with stubborn desperation. “A year of sitting off to the side while you smiled and laughed with all of your precious comrades, showing off for Mikoto, barely throwing me a glance here and there – you’re telling me I was your best friend?” His smirk was crooked. “You have a funny way of showing it, Misaki.”
It was unbelievable how they could’ve gone through a year together, spent time in all the same places, and somehow remember it so differently. Yata felt some of his anger drain. “You – you went all distant on me!” He could still recall the way each interaction with Saruhiko had felt like a struggle – his inexplicable moodiness, his constant irritation, the lack of response to some of the most basic questions. “I didn’t know how to deal with you any more, you jerk!”
“So you just gave up, is that it?”
“You gave up on me, too! Why didn’t you say anything?”
“I had to say something? If you’d turned away from your precious Mikoto for half a second and looked at me…!”
“If you’d turned off your stubbornness for half a second and asked me to…!” Yata shook his head violently. “Oh my god, what the fuck, Saru? I told Kusanagi I’d stand up to Mikoto for you if you came back – I’d have taken any hit right by your side if that was what it took, and you – you thought I would throw you away?”
Saruhiko’s mouth settled into a hard, stubborn line; he was breathing heavily, and his gaze was intense, but he didn’t answer.
“I could’ve tried to understand – I could’ve tried harder – it might have taken a while, but – ” Yata grimaced. “I could’ve accepted this whole – this whole Blues thing, even.” He curled his lip. “Even though it looks fucking awful here. Are you even happy?”
A corner of Saruhiko’s mouth edged up at that. “You look like you just smelled something foul.”
“Yeah, probably those stupid energy bars – do you have any idea how fucking unhealthy those are?” The casual back-and-forth felt like catharsis all of a sudden; Yata let out a long breath, and felt his shoulders slump. He let his forehead fall forward against Saru’s shoulder, fingers going slack against his shirt. “Is this even for real? Like, if I’d used the words ‘our friendship’ before, then…”
Saruhiko clicked his tongue. “You’re an idiot.”
“I hate you so much,” Yata managed, choked and breathy and not even caring.
Silence fell between them again, but that uncomfortable suffocating feeling was gone.
What now? It was almost too difficult to believe that they could just… that this could just be resolved. Their relationship wasn’t the same. They couldn’t pick up where they left off; there were too many differences. He’d have to learn Saru all over again, find out where he fit into his new life. And where did Saru fit into his? He couldn’t just hang out with Yata’s friends, any more than Yata could walk into Scepter 4 headquarters whenever he felt like it.
It suddenly felt like there were too many strings of possibility dangling in front of him, but he couldn’t tell what any of them actually were. What could Saru be to him now?
The muscles he’d rested his forehead against shifted a bit, and Yata raised his head automatically. Saruhiko rolled his shoulder as he did, jostling the chain that joined their hands.
Right, the handcuffs – he’d almost forgotten.
The handcuffs… and last night…
For a moment, Yata stared dumbly at the reminder on his wrist, thoughts whirling.
It was probably a terrible idea. Beyond terrible – insane. The worst plan he’d thought up since – since getting drunk and handcuffing himself to his best-friend-turned-worst-enemy.
And look how that turned out.
Yata raised his eyes, met Saru’s gaze, and felt something tighten within him – something made up of anxiety, uncertainty, nerves, and some other unidentifiable feeling. It was strangely intoxicating.
Saruhiko raised a questioning eyebrow at him. “Misaki?”
“Shut up for a second,” he muttered back, and tried not to think too hard about exactly what he was doing as he leaned forward.
The kiss was – to put it frankly – really, really fucking awkward. Yata didn’t have the first clue what he needed to do beyond pressing his lips to Saru’s – what the hell was he supposed to do with his hands? Should he try for tongue right away? Did he have to pucker up more? The movies made it look so easy. And Saru wasn’t helping at all – for several agonizingly long seconds, he didn’t even move, and all the while Yata’s heart was beating frantically against his chest, panic rising like bile at the back of his throat. Oh shit, I shouldn’t have done this – I’ve ruined everything – I’ve gotta be doing something wrong – why isn’t he moving?
Just as he was on the verge of pulling back and stuttering out some kind of apology or excuse, Saru’s hand closed at the base of his skull, pressing up into the kiss with sudden and unexpected fervency.
Oh. The rush of relief was almost strong enough to drown out Yata’s embarrassment at the obvious and glaring difference between his initial fumbling and Saru’s sudden confidence. I guess… he’s cool with it?
He really shouldn’t have worried. Yata braced his right hand on Saru’s shoulder as he struggled to match his motions. They’d already done it once, right? Even if he couldn’t remember… This probably wasn’t the first.
It… felt like it, though. The warm, wet pressure of the kiss… the brush of Saru’s breath against his cheek… the cool fingers at the back of his neck… None of it seemed familiar.
Good, yeah, but not familiar.
Saru ran his tongue along the curve of Yata’s lower lip, causing Yata to catch his breath sharply and nearly break the kiss altogether – he probably would have, if not for the hand still holding his head in place. His fingers clenched involuntarily in the fabric of Saru’s shirt and he could feel heat spreading across his face.
Fuck, it was nice.
Catching his bearings, Yata pushed back hungrily against Saru’s mouth, meeting Saru’s tongue with his, without caring whether his movements were clumsy or not. The beginning tug of arousal was forming inside him, and he felt pleasantly buzzed, eager for more, ready to go as far as he was allowed. Saru’s mouth felt really, really good, hot and wet and slick, and for a dizzying moment he could imagine what it might feel like on his – his –
Oh god, would Saru give him a blowjob if he asked?
Just the thought was enough to make him shiver. Hell, if this was what kissing felt like, something like that would probably be amazing.
Maybe… if he promised to return the favor…?
A sharp knock at the door startled him out of those exciting half-fantasies. Yata jerked back on instinct, his thoughts scrambling, and stared at Saru hazily. He was breathing hard, his face felt hot, and he was kind of turned on, but more than anything, he just felt light-headed.
Holy shit, that was intense!
It didn’t hurt his ego any to see Saru looking flushed and heavy-lidded, too. And… it was also maybe kind of hot. The almost hungry look in his eyes when they locked gazes went straight to Yata’s groin.
The knock came again, a little louder that time. “Fushimi?”
Saru’s eyebrows came down and he clicked his tongue. “What?” he snapped back, with obvious impatience.
“Uh…” The voice sounded a little taken aback. “I was told to deliver a spare key for your handcuffs, but if you’re busy, I can just – ”
The telltale ‘tsk’ came again after ‘handcuffs’. “Just wait,” Saru cut him off, and reached up to pick off the hand that was still gripping his shoulder before pushing himself to his feet. He shot Yata a meaningful look and started for the door.
There wasn’t really much choice but to follow him. What was with that?
The Blue at the door was the same one who’d asked about the handcuffs earlier – at least, Yata thought it was him. He’d been kind of distracted at the time. “Um,” the guy started, then looked from Saru to Yata and back again, and colored. “Sorry for… interrupting.”
Wait, what? He couldn’t have actually guessed...
At that point, it occurred to Yata that Saru’s shirt was askew, his own hair felt mussed, and if his lips looked anything like Saru’s…
Yeah, it was probably obvious to random-co-worker what he was ‘interrupting’.
Shit. Yata felt his face grow hot and wished his had his beanie to tug down. Does this guy have a big mouth? Is this gonna turn into a huge thing? I mean, we literally hooked up like five minutes ago. Fuck.
A glance to the side revealed that Saru was either oblivious to the tension or just didn’t care. “We were talking,” he responded, in a flat, completely unconvincing way. “Not that it’s any of your business. Just hand over the key.”
Oh my god. Yata shot him an incredulous look, caught between embarrassment and disbelief. What the hell was that supposed to be? No one’s going to believe that, for fuck’s sake! He jerked his gaze back to the guy in the hallway and tried for the dirtiest look he could manage, hoping to at least intimidate him into shutting up about it.
“Oh, uh, right.” The Blue hastily held out the key, clearly in a hurry to exit this awkward situation. “I’ll just – I’ll just leave you to it, then.” He glanced again at Yata, blanched slightly, and offered an obviously strained smile. “Have a good, uh, talk.”
Saru shut the door in his face without bothering to respond, clicking his tongue again. “Everyone’s a gossip here,” he muttered with obvious irritation, bringing up his right wrist to get at the handcuff lock.
Yata stared at him, not sure if he was more miffed or anxious. “Hey – is that gonna be okay?”
“What, Hidaka assuming that we’re fucking?” Saru paused to raise an eyebrow at him. “I couldn’t care less.”
“Fuck, of course you don’t.” He should’ve known. “But seriously, won’t it cause problems at work, or something?”
The handcuffs came loose, and Saru pulled them back, stepping around Yata to place both them and the key on his desk. “My personal life has nothing to do with work. If they want to make a big deal out of it, that’s going to be their problem, not mine.”
Yata sighed, absently twisting his newly freed left wrist a few times. “You sure live a carefree life for a government employee.”
“Come here on a day when I’m working and see if you say that again.” Saru turned, and a corner of his mouth curved up when he met Yata’s gaze. “You don’t seem like you’re in a hurry to leave now that you’re loose.”
Something in that look had his stomach tightening up again. Yata grinned back to cover his own nerves. “I thought maybe you were gonna make it worth my while to stay.”
That little smile turned into a smirk. “Are you sure you want to put me in charge of that?” He stepped close, tipping Yata’s chin up with one hand and lowering his head – goddamnit, the height difference between them really was noticeable – to bring their mouths close. “Hm, Misaki?”
He hadn’t thought that name could actually sound good – but it sent shivers down his spine when Saru said it like that, pretty much breathing it out against his lips. “Yeah – yeah, I’m good,” he responded, a bit breathlessly, and closed the distance between them.
It was a little easier now that they were definitely on the same page. Yata felt bold enough to brace his hands on Saru’s hips and push up into the kiss aggressively, eager to get back that pleasant buzz from before. He obviously wasn’t the only impatient one, because Saru’s lips parted almost immediately, tongue sliding out teasingly along Yata’s upper lip and just inside.
There it was. Fuck yes. Yata slid his hands around to Saru’s lower back, not quite brave enough to go lower, and tasted the inside of Saru’s mouth, as warm and soft and tempting as before. So good.
Saru’s hands slid around his shoulders, pulling him in closer, and they kissed open-mouthed, heat building up in between them, silence punctuated by soft, wet noises and increasingly harsh breathing.
Yata was just dimly starting to become aware of how stiff his neck was when Saru pulled back just enough to mumble against his lips, “Bed?”
That could only mean good things. “Yeah,” he responding, not trusting his voice with more than that, and didn’t push back when Saru walked him backwards until his knees hit the mattress of the lower bunk. They kind of half-fell, half-scooted up onto the bed, resuming the kiss with Saru braced up on his elbows and Yata on his back, and he finally screwed up his courage and slid his hands down over the seat of Saru’s pants.
“Hmm,” Saru hummed, the timbre of his voice vibrating into the kiss, and Yata pulled him down so their bodies pressed together. That delicious hot mouth broke from his and started trailing kisses down his jawline, drawing a strangled noise from his throat. His fingers clenched reflexively against the firm curve beneath them.
Fuck, Saru was so hot. So awesome. Yata felt incredible already. He couldn’t believe he didn’t remember this feeling – it was the best fucking thing in the world, seriously.
Even better as Saru’s hand slid down between them and tugged at his zipper – Yata’s heart just about jumped into his throat, and he shivered a little with anticipation as those deft fingers slipped past the waistband.
Saru bit lightly on the soft shell of his ear. “We can’t go all the way,” he murmured, and the hot breath that came with the words brought another shiver. “I don’t have lube or condoms or anything. But – ”
“Can’t we just – ngh” – Saru’s hand teased over the clothed hardness between his legs, momentarily distracting him – “ah, can’t we just do whatever we did last night?”
The hand stilled.
Yata waited for a moment, breathing heavily, and then – when there was no sign that any activity was being resumed – furrowed his brow, confused. “Saru?”
“Misaki…” Saru pulled back, looked him dead in the eye, and said, with a completely straight face, “That was a lie.”
The words didn’t process right away. “… Eh?”
“I lied.” There was not a trace of remorse or guilt in Saru’s voice. “We never slept together.”
“You’re not really sexy when you’re drunk, you know.”
It still took a moment to sink in. Yata gaped at him. “Why would you – ?”
“Why? Because it was fun.” That came with a slight smirk. “You seemed so concerned, and I wanted to see what your reaction would be. You didn’t disappoint – as usual, Misaki.” His name came out in that slow, teasing drawl again.
He was starting to gather his wits now. “Wait, so, what – ?”
“What actually happened?” Saruhiko finished for him. He didn’t wait for confirmation. “You refused to leave with Kamamoto – that’s the part where you cried, by the way – so, lucky me, I got roped into taking care of you. But when we got to the room, you puked – again – so I took off our clothes and sent them down for cleaning. Then when I came back, you had my handcuffs.” He relayed it in a completely neutral and unimpressed tone, as if it was not worth commenting on. “I told you to hand them over, and that’s when you cuffed us.”
Yata stared at him with aggravated disbelief. “Saru, you – ”
He was talked right over – again. “When I went for the keys, you snatched them up, tossed them in the toilet, and flushed before I could fish them back out. Then you said something stupid about it being impossible to leave you now, laughed your dumb drunken ass off, and passed out. I had to drag you back to the bed.” Saruhiko paused, then shrugged. “And that was pretty much it.”
“You fucking – ” Yata wasn’t sure if he was more pissed or relieved – turned out he hadn’t forgotten his first time, after all, and Saru was just a giant prick. Which shouldn’t be news to anyone. “What the fuck, Saru?”
That typical smirk was back. “I was sure you’d figure it out after that conversation with Hidaka. I mean, here I am claiming I was on top – you’d think you’d clue in that your ass didn’t hurt. Oh, but that’s right!” He snapped his fingers, as if just realizing something. “You’re probably too much of a virgin to piece that together.”
“Are you trying to piss me off?” Yata was starting to have second thoughts about his recent choices. It was hard to deal with asshole comments when the asshole making them still had his hand down Yata’s pants.
Saru actually let out a brief laugh, and Yata’s anger dissipated with the surprising action. “For old times’ sake, Misaki,” he murmured, eyes shifting to something almost unrecognizably warm, and leaned in to resume their kiss before Yata could respond.
… Fucking dick always had to have the last word.
“I’ll make it up to you,” he murmured into the kiss, as if reading that thought, and brushed his hand along the length of Yata’s cock.
“Hn…” Even just the light touch was enough – it felt good; promising. Yata arched up into it, wanting more – willing to let the other stuff go if Saru was going to give it to him. Still, he had to at least come back with something. “Go – go down on me, and I’ll for-forgive you,” he managed, gasping as the hand on his dick closed a little more firmly.
Fuck, that felt really good…
Saru kissed his way to the corner of Yata’s jaw and breathed, “I guess I can handle that,” into the sensitive skin there.
The shudder that went through Yata’s whole body at that was as much from the worlds as from the sensation. He’s going to do it – he’s really going to fucking do it. His cock twitched in Saru’s hand, and he squirmed a bit, tilting his head back as Saru moved to kiss down along his neck. He buried his fingers in that messy dark hair – that was what you did, right? When someone was going to give you a blowjob? – and focused on breathing, which was somehow surprisingly difficult.
The hand on his dick had been removed, but Saru was busy undoing the buttons on his shirt and moving the fabric aside, so that was probably a necessary trade-off. His mouth followed the path his fingers were clearing, and a little pleasurable jolt of anticipation came from Yata’s lower body.
Yes yes yes yes… That amazing warm tongue traced over his belly, causing him to jerk and gasp; his fingers tightened reflexively, and he had to force them to loosen. Saru’s hands curled around the waistband of his pants and boxes, and he lifted his hips without even thinking to allow him to slide them down.
The anticipation was just about killing him, so when Saru pulled back a ways and paused, Yata let out a little groan of frustration and tilted his head forward, twisting his fingers a little. “Saru…”
He was being examined, as it turned out – there was a little appreciative smirk on Saru’s face as he studied Yata’s exposed body. “Not bad,” he murmured, after a second, looking up to meet the gaze above him with wicked, heated eyes.
The sheer embarrassment of it had Yata dropping his head back against the mattress, shutting his eyes and letting out his breath in a rush. He wasn’t sure if the additional heat rising on his cheeks was from being examined or from that look in Saru’s eyes – either way, it wasn’t fair. “Quit staring, you bastard!”
“’Get on with it’, hm?” Hot breath brushed over his uncovered erection – Yata’s eyes flew open. “Mi” – Saru’s lips brushed the tip, and his own breathing quickened – “sa” – a flick of tongue – “ki.”
The hot, moist feel of Saru’s mouth closing over the head of his dick drew an involuntary desperate-sounding noise from Yata’s throat; his whole body jerked, and he would have bucked up if Saru’s hands weren’t pinning his hips to the bed. As it was, he got a little chiding ‘hm’ as a response, which vibrated… vibrated… oh god…
I could die, his brain babbled at him, as white-hot pleasure engulfed his world; as he groaned and writhed on the bed and tried not to tear out Saru’s hair. I could die right now. I’d die happy. Fuck fuck fuck, oh my god.
It was better than his fantasies. Saru’s head bobbed, tongue running along the length, and Yata panted and moaned, already coming apart. “Saru… Saruhiko… so good…”
“Mm,” he got as a response, just as that mouth took him nearly all the way in, and Yata didn’t even try to hold back the half-sobbing strangled noise that was torn from him. His whole body felt like it was on fire; everything in his world right then centered around what was being done to him.
So good, so good, so good…
And, all too soon, that unmistakable tension was building in his groin – Yata tugged at Saru’s hair and gasped out, “Sto… stop… I’m… Saru… ah… I’m…”
Instead of pulling back, Saru lowered his head again, taking in most of Yata’s cock, and Yata’s orgasm hit hard and fast, making his head spin and his vision blur. It was more intense than he’d expected, and he cried out, squeezing his eyes shut and then opening them wide – sightless – as the feeling seemed to spread all the way through him, a full-body experience.
When he came down, he was gasping for breath and there was sweat cooling on his flushed skin. The last little shivers of sensation were still coursing through him, and he felt heavy and boneless, slumped back against the covers.
Saru eased back slowly, and one last shudder ran through Yata’s over-sensitive body. His fingers slid free of the black strands they’d been clenched around, and his arms fell back to the bed, loosely.
“Mm, so.” Saru sat up, drawing his gaze, wiping indelicately at his mouth with the back of his hand. “You forgive me?”
It took him a while to find his voice, but he eventually managed. “Hell yes.”
“I’ll take that as a compliment.”
Yata turned his head and regarded him for a moment, his thoughts slowly coming back to some sort of order. He resisted the urge to shut his eyes and doze off into some kind of sex-induced coma, and instead pushed himself up, straightening his pants and underwear in the process.
For all those locker rooms and public bathhouses and whatever else… he still wasn’t sure he could handle being naked and exposed post-orgasm.
Saru was watching him intently – when Yata met his gaze, he raised an eyebrow.
Somehow, that was kind of nostalgic. Yata couldn’t help but smirk, shifting his legs so that he was sitting on his knees. “Heh.”
“What?” Saru asked him, just a bit warily.
“You still suck at that,” Yata declared brashly, and leaned up into his personal space, liking the way his eyes widened at the movement. “Y’know… telling me what you want.” He braced his hands on Saru’s shoulders, urging him back onto the mattress. “Lucky for you, I’ve got pretty good instincts.”
Saru went down without resistance, recovering from his surprise quickly. “Oh?” His pupils were dilated when he gazed back up at Yata, and he smiled faintly, hair splayed on the bed around his face. It was a good look for him, honestly. “And what are those instincts telling you, Misaki?”
He was already fumbling with the buttons on Saru’s shirt, too impatient to put on the kind of show he’d gotten. “Telling me I should return the favor.” Sliding the fabric out of the way, he ran a hand over that exposed torso, a little anxious and excited now with the feel of warm skin and firm muscle beneath his fingers. “I’ll – I’ll do it to you, all right?”
Saru’s eyes were heavy-lidded; the look in them had Yata’s heart pounding against his chest. “No complaints here,” he murmured, settling back.
There was something really fucking sexy about being able to do what he wanted. Yata brushed his fingers hesitantly over the hard lump between Saru’s legs, encouraged by the sharp intake of breath he got in response, and worked the fly loose so that he could touch through the thin cotton of his underwear instead.
There was a damp spot where the material covered the head – Yata took that as a positive sign. He felt bold enough to dip his head and run his tongue up from Saru’s stomach to his collarbone, sliding his finger over the wet circle as he did and feeling it slick up even more. Saru moaned in response, feeding his confidence.
I’m doing this to him. It was making him feel strangely giddy – almost as intoxicating as being the one on his back, kind of. In a different way. He risked a glance up at Saru’s flushed face, and licked his lips without thinking about it. He’s fucking turned on and moaning, and it’s because of me.
He could seriously get used to this.
Back to business, though… Yata planted a kiss just below Saru’s ribcage, hooking his fingers in the waistband of his underwear and pulling them down carefully when Saru’s hips lifted for him. He leaned back a ways to admire his work, and couldn’t help the rush of heat that rose to his face at the sight of Saru’s erect cock, the unmistakable center of the lewd display in front of him.
His heart was thundering in his own ears; Yata took in a breath, and forced himself to calm down a little. All right. I’m doing this. He locked eyes with Saru – hell, that look could still make him shiver, and he wasn’t even the one about to get a blowjob – and lowered his head, tentatively sliding his hand around the base.
Saru made a little sound of encouragement. “Misaki,” he breathed, bracing a hand on Yata’s shoulder and giving it a strangely comforting squeeze.
Right, this was cool. He could do this. Trying to push his nerves aside for the moment, Yata positioned his mouth at the head, thinking back to what Saru had done to him. He’d used his tongue, right? That was probably a good place to start. Without letting himself think too hard about it, he pressed down and licked slowly around the tip, gathering some of the slick pre-come.
It… didn’t taste all that bad, really.
More importantly, Saru exhaled sharply, hips jerking a little, and Yata remembered to brace a hand there to hold him down.
Good thing, too, because when he slid his lips down, taking the head of Saru’s erection in his mouth, he could feel the muscles strain beneath him. Saru gasped again, and he couldn’t help but raise his eyes to look at his expression, torn between admiration – seriously, how could he look that hot? – and pride. I’m doing really good, right? Making you feel like that…
“Misaki…” Saru groaned again, his half-lidded eyes glazed over with arousal as they locked with Yata’s. One of his hands came up to rest at the back of Yata’s head, pushing down insistently. “Please…”
Another little tug of excitement stirred in Yata’s gut at that. Saruhiko was pleading with him – Saruhiko. Pleading. He relaxed his throat and pushed lower, drinking in every stray sound that came out of Saru’s mouth.
It wasn’t all that hard now that he was getting the hang of it. Yata eased himself down and back slowly the first few times, taking as much of Saru’s cock into his mouth as he could without gagging. He remembered how Saru had run his tongue along the side – and how good that had felt – and let his drag out the same way, egged on by the increasingly harsh sound of Saru’s breathing. It was easier after that to pick up the pace.
“Ha-AH… Misaki…” Saru’s hand urged him on, trying to force a rhythm. “Misaki…”
Yata let himself be led, caught up in the rush. He wanted to feel it all of a sudden – Saru losing it. You should come, he thought, curling his tongue and listening to Saru moan. Come because of me. Feel good because of me. Lose your mind because of me. I’m doing this to you, Saru, so you’d better enjoy it so much you could cry.
His jaw was just starting to ache a bit when the hand on his shoulder suddenly tapped urgently. “I’m – coming,” Saru gasped out, and Yata defiantly pushed down, a little past his comfort zone – if Saru could do it without pulling off, so could he – and then Saru’s cock gave a twitch and his mouth was suddenly flooded.
It was hard not to gag – seriously, how much was there? A fair amount dribbled out the side of his mouth as he pulled back, and he had to wipe his face with his hand, swallowing the rest without thinking.
Saru was a real sight beneath him, flushed and obviously struggling to catch his breath, and Yata could feel what was probably a really stupid-looking grin building on his face. I fucking did it – I got you off. His first time and everything.
“Mm.” Saru’s eyes slid open, and he smiled a bit, reaching up almost lazily to cup the side of Yata’s jaw, running his thumb along the curve of his lower lip. “You look really sexy sucking me off.”
A rush of sudden heat rose to his cheeks. “What – what the hell? Don’t say that kind of stuff, you idiot!”
“It’s true, though.” Saru pushed himself up onto one elbow, sliding the hand around to the back of Yata’s neck and catching his gaze with a smirk. “Did you enjoy it?”
His face could have been on fire. How the hell did Saru manage to embarrass him so easily? It really wasn’t fair. “Sh-Shut up,” he stuttered, too flustered to think of a better answer. He had enjoyed it, but it felt really awkward to have to admit it out loud.
“Well, I enjoyed it,” Saru admitted, with disarming sincerity. He pushed himself all the way up and into Yata’s personal space again, bringing their foreheads together. “So shut up yourself, virgin.”
If he hadn’t just recently gotten the best orgasm of his life out of this guy, Yata might’ve punched him. “The hell, Saru? I just fucking b-blew you, and you’re still calling me that?”
“I’ll stop when you can say it without stuttering and blushing.” Somehow, the teasing didn’t have its usual bite – and it was hard to be mad at someone who looked at you like that. Saru’s gaze was content and a little soft; it did funny things to Yata’s stomach to see him like that again.
Just how long had it been?
“Whatever, jerk.” He wished he could will the flush away from his face, but it obviously wasn’t happening, so ignoring it was the next best option. “I liked it, okay?” It was harder to force the rest out, but Yata figured he might as well make the effort now. “We should – we should do it again sometime.”
“Well, yeah,” Saru answered, as if that had been obvious, and leaned in to kiss him.
It was simple compared to their other kisses, but Yata leaned into it all the same. Somehow, as sappy as it sounded, his heart felt really full. I guess it wasn’t such a bad thing, after all, being stuck with this guy all day.
“Oh, and Misaki” – the words came out soft, as Saru pulled back – “just one other thing.”
Yata blinked at him, still feeling pleasantly warm and a little light-headed. “Yeah?”
“Next time, we’re definitely sharing the shower.”