Note: This is set after my longer fanfic, Set in Stone, which is an AU. Youíre going to be confused if you havenít read that one before jumping in here.


It started with coffee.

More often than not, Fushimi had noticed, their squabbles were over something petty like this. When it happened, generally there was a build-up of irritation on either his side or Misaki’s – or both – and it came out over a small matter. Usually it ended within minutes: a sharp outburst, a small period of reflection and then wordless apologies. It helped to feel one another’s emotions when saying those kinds of things out loud was too difficult; that was the major advantage with their contract. As a result, those moments of friction in their relationship were almost always mercifully short-lived.

This time, it seemed to be one of the rare exceptions: despite being the usual petty nonsense, the argument did not resolve quickly.

“Fushimi.” Awashima’s crisp voice cut into that thought; when he looked up from his phone – which he’d brought up to occupy himself while waiting for the train and then gotten lost in his thoughts instead of paying attention to it – she was approaching him, a small sack in her hands. “Could you bring this with you for Yata? He left it behind the other day.”

Fushimi clicked his tongue, more out of reflex than real annoyance. “Is it really that much of a hassle to hold onto it for one night?” Despite the words, he reached out to take the bag from her. “He could just get it when he comes in tomorrow.”

She raised an eyebrow in return. “He requested the day off tomorrow. You didn’t know?”

Now that was irritating. “Obviously not, since you had to tell me.” He turned his eyes deliberately back to his phone, avoiding that pointed gaze. It’s not your business. “Is that all?”

Not her business that what should have been a small argument over an empty coffee bin had not resolved by the end of a single day, and bled into the next. Not her business that he could feel the faint echo of blended frustration and hurt from Misaki’s side of their bond, punctuated at random by emotional reactions to the events of the day. Not her business that Misaki had spent the night at his mother’s house, without explanation and seemingly out of nowhere. And especially not her business that they hadn’t spoken since the morning of the supposedly trivial argument they’d had.

He didn’t know why this particular argument had triggered such an extreme scenario, and it was beyond irritating. Why did relationships have to be so needlessly complicated and nonsensical?

Awashima let out a short sigh, sounding vaguely exasperated. “That’s all.” She turned smartly on her heel, glancing back over her shoulder only long enough to add, “Take care going home,” before heading back out in the direction she’d come.

Fushimi frowned after her for a brief moment, and then clicked his tongue again.

It was still hard to deal with sometimes, having people who legitimately cared about his well-being. He didn’t know how to react.

Well, it doesn’t matter. Awashima, of all people, was smart enough to read between the lines.

For all the talk of him being an idiot who needed things spelled out, usually Misaki could too. When it mattered most, at least. It had spared Fushimi a few times, though he was gradually coming to terms with having to initiate difficult conversations when necessary. The relationship they’d carved out for themselves was not always easy to maintain.

Worth the effort, though. In the months since he’d moved permanently into Misaki’s place, Fushimi had become more and more certain of that.

Which was probably the only reason he had been able to cage and control the dread that crept instinctively into his heart and fluttered about in a panic at the extension of the unresolved argument. He was fairly sure that Misaki couldn’t feel it, not at this distance.

If Misaki could feel it, and still avoided him…

Fushimi squashed that doubt ruthlessly, clicking his tongue again. It didn’t bear thinking about – that response went against everything he knew of Misaki’s nature. And his knowledge on that particular subject was extensive, despite the current thinning of their bond through the distance between them.

When they were apart, the vivid spectrum of emotion that typically flowed into his head from Misaki’s end was faint, a poor echo of the flood that had overwhelmed and eventually captivated him when they had initially been forced together. It was a blessing in some ways – he had to focus on work, and the emotions that Misaki lived with on a day to day basis were incredibly distracting to Fushimi, who was used to compartmentalizing his feelings in order to get through life with a minimum of unpleasantness. But ultimately, he preferred when they were together and he could drown in the pleasant chaos of Misaki’s heart and soul.

Even just thinking of gazing into Misaki’s eyes and seeing the warmth of his affection on display in perfectly harmony with the emotion that radiated through their bond could send a little shudder of anticipation through him. Not sexual – though that was simple enough to conjure too, imagining the heat of Misaki’s reactions and the soft but firm sensation of his flesh under Fushimi’s fingers – but rather… something deeper and more basic. It triggered a reciprocal reaction within him.

He hadn’t really known that he was capable of such vast and fervent care for another person. It was terrifying in a number of ways, but it wasn’t something he could be persuaded to give up.

That’s why I’m planning these annoying things. Fushimi clicked his tongue again, hefting the sack in his left hand just enough that he could tilt his fingers to see the light reflect off of the rich orange of his ring. Even just looking at it was enough to settle those unpleasant feelings of uncertainty and discomfort. It was a material proof of everything that had been built between them, and a physical reminder that their commitment was unbroken. Even if he couldn’t understand the reason for the persistent ache in Misaki’s heart, the fact remained that he could still feel it. Misaki wasn’t shutting him out.

In his coat pocket, the small bundle of coffee beans he’d negotiated for earlier that day seemed to sit heavily.

Whatever the unknown significance behind his using up the last of the previous batch was, he hoped this peace offering would be enough to counter it. Or, at the very least, get Misaki talking to him again. Regardless of how often he’d complained about how loud his partner could be, the current silence really was unbearable.

Just to be sure, he checked his messages again. The last received text from Misaki was still the brief note from the previous day stating that he’d be at his mother’s house overnight.

The train pulled into the station at that point, and Fushimi stowed his phone and Misaki’s forgotten bag to join the flow of traffic filtering up to the doors.

With luck, Misaki would already be at home when he got there, and they could resolve this quickly.


The apartment was empty.

Even before he’d made it up the front walkway, Fushimi knew that Misaki wouldn’t be there. The flow of emotional backlash in his head was still a faint echo, telling him that they were nowhere near each other and not steadily getting closer as he would’ve expected. Once again, as he hesitated at the foot of the stairway leading up to their floor, he felt that unpleasant blend of uncertainty and dread rise up like bile at the back of his throat, and once again he ruthlessly forced it back down.

It’s not like it’s unusual for him to be out, is it? Misaki was frequently out with his friends, which Fushimi had come to appreciate. He was more accustomed to solitude and as much as he enjoyed being with Misaki, it was nice to have some moments to himself here and there as well. There was never any question that Misaki was coming home to him in the end, as evidenced by the enthusiastic cheer that was always present at the back of his head during such times.

And of course there were the times when Misaki blundered back into the apartment, full of boisterous energy, and Fushimi couldn’t quite resist the urge to move in close and direct that energy… elsewhere.

Somehow, with the echo of frustration and hollow unhappiness still lingering in that place where Misaki’s emotions bled into his, this didn’t feel at all like one of those times.

Fushimi clicked his tongue at that thought, with more worry and less irritation than he would’ve preferred, and made his way up the stairs to unlock the apartment door. As expected, it was dark and silent inside, with no sign that Misaki had even been home at all that day. A glance at his phone showed no new messages. Seriously, where is he?

He could always ask, of course. Fushimi even went as far as to type the question into the message box, before grimacing to himself and exiting the app. The impression of a nagging housewife demanding to know her husband’s every movement gave him an unpleasant feeling that he couldn’t seem to shake.

Granted, Misaki had no problems asking him where he was when the situation called for it, and he didn’t exactly mind. But still… showing concern like that - exposing that worry

It was a little too much right then.

Rather than dwell on it, Fushimi opened his scheduling app instead. It was more to give himself something to focus on than because he thought he had overlooked anything - his memory rarely failed him, and even in the unlikely event that it did, he had reminders enabled. The visual details in the app itself confirmed that everything was in order, which put him at a loss of what course of action to take, yet again.

Why was this all so needlessly complicated and perplexing?

There was an additional event showing on the previous day, though - one without a reminder and with no color indicating priority, which meant it had been added in case a conflict arose rather than as something he needed to take particular note of. It was labeled with ‘Yata anniversary’.

Right. Misaki’s mother’s wedding anniversary. That would explain why he hadn’t given it much thought or had it come to mind immediately; it had seemed inconsequential at the time, so he’d filed it in his own head much like he had in his phone, as something not worth paying much attention to. After all, he would not have been attending and Misaki being out wouldn’t be unusual.

And then the fight had happened, and it had thrown him off. Of course.

The relief that came with the discovery was palpable. Fushimi let out a breath, lowering his phone, and then allowed himself a rueful little smile. What a ridiculous situation. There was nothing unusual about Misaki spending the night at his mother’s after - likely - celebrating late into the night. It didn’t relate to their argument at all; the two events had just happened to coincide.

Still, he couldn’t shake the unease that had plagued him. It wasn’t just the actions Misaki had taken; with the way their bond worked, it could never come down to just that.

The persistent sense of an emotional ache at the back of his head had lingered since yesterday.

Unbidden, a sharp memory of Misaki’s voice came to him, unusually subdued, “they’re a real family, all of them related and everything.” It wasn’t exactly bitterness in his voice; more like a kind of longing, or regret. “All of them normal.”

Ah. Right - that.

The realization was enough to line up the rest of the pieces in this puzzle he’d been trying to sort out in his head. Fushimi turned into the kitchen to retrieve the jar where Misaki kept his invisibility powder.

He was fairly certain he knew where to go now.


Most of the time, Fushimi was indifferent to the temperature outside. It didn’t really impact him as someone who wasn’t a natural resident of this realm, so he didn’t feel the need to pay much attention to it. He made a point of wearing jackets as it started to get colder so that he didn’t stand out, but that was it. So the fact that it was late November and there was already a chill in the air even before he flew up above the city shouldn’t have been particularly worrying.

Misaki, however, was affected by temperature. And there was no telling how long he’d been up there by that point.

Even in mid-flight, Fushimi found himself clicking his tongue. Not like he can’t handle himself. There was no real reason to worry, and yet…

Well. It was another of those annoying ‘relationship’ things.

At least he didn’t have to wonder where Misaki had gone. The familiar domed glass roof of the skyscraper wasn’t even in sight when the rush of emotions started to intensify and he knew he was getting close. As he drew close enough to land next to the hunched figure sitting on the beam, he could feel frustration so deep that it settled in his own belly and rose up at the back of his throat like an old ache.

Fushimi clicked his tongue as Misaki turned his head up, their eyes meeting without trouble in the tiny amount of moonlight that peeked through the clouds to dimly illuminate them. “I thought you might be here.” Since Misaki had already retracted his wings in order to put on a sweater, Fushimi did the same, dropping down to sit beside him and raising an eyebrow in silent question.

Misaki offered him a rueful smile in return, tiny threads of resignation and something like gratification weaving through the thick funk he’d worked himself into. “Yeah, well, y’know.” He reached up to rub at the back of his neck. “Had some stuff on my mind.”

“Hm.” There was no trace of anger or resentment towards him, so this really did have nothing to do with their fight. Oddly, Fushimi didn’t feel particularly comforted by that. When Misaki’s mood was subdued or low, it was always concerning. Not because his emotions weren’t as strong as ever, bursting through even in the ‘off’ moments, but because it felt wrong.

When Misaki was being fully himself, the world was in order. Fushimi couldn’t help but selfishly hoard those moments, taking pleasure from Misaki’s unrestrained side. But knowing how free and bright he felt in those moments, it seemed doubly as devastating when he squashed himself down like he was at that point.

You shouldn’t have to feel like this. Anyone who didn’t appreciate Misaki at his most natural was a fool, in Fushimi’s opinion. He couldn’t see any benefit to repressing that brilliance. Even when something about Misaki’s boisterous behavior annoyed him, he wouldn’t have changed it for the world.

He could see the change in the dim light of Misaki’s eyes as those emotions flowed through to him - at the same moment as something warm and thankful started to overpower the frustration seeping through the back of his own head. The tiny smile that he’d been offered widened into something much more content. “Ah, yeah, I get it - you don’t have to say it.” Misaki let out a long sigh, as if releasing a load of tension, and leaned sideways to bump his shoulder against Fushimi’s. “But thanks.”

Even after all this time, gratitude still made him feel mildly uncomfortable. Fushimi managed a small shrug, reaching up to adjust his glasses without thinking. “I didn’t really do anything.”

Misaki laughed, amusement accompanying the sound, and his smile split into a grin. “Yeah, yeah. You still suck at this stuff, huh?”

Fushimi clicked his tongue at that, frowning as he turned his gaze aside. “Don’t say it like you didn’t already know.”

“Heh.” Misaki shifted so they were closer, pressing against his side with easy familiarity and dropping his head sideways against Fushimi’s shoulder. “It’s part of what I like about you, Saru.”

The sincerity and affection that came with the simple statement had him closing his eyes in instinctive reaction, allowing himself a moment to indulge fully in those pleasant emotions. “Mm,” he responded noncommittally, and let his own head tilt to rest on top of Misaki’s. The roughly cut strands tickled his cheek, but he didn’t mind it.

He could have sat out here for hours like this, just him and Misaki in their own little world. But there were other things to consider, too. After a short while, as Misaki started to shift a bit with restless energy, Fushimi lifted his head again, adjusting his position so that he could reach into the pockets of his jacket.

“Here.” He started by handing over the sack that Awashima had pressed on him earlier. “Apparently you forgot this at the Captain’s office.”

“Oh shit, I did!” Misaki took it from him, shaking his head as his grin turned rueful again. Despite the reminder, his spirits seemed higher. “Guess I was pretty distracted today, huh?” Without waiting for an answer, he added, “Well, thanks for bringing it! Would’ve sucked to have to go get it tomorrow since - ” He stopped there, eyes widening a little as he caught himself. “... ah.”

“Since you have the day off?” Fushimi finished for him dryly. He raised an eyebrow when Misaki shot him a guilty look, chagrin overpowering the bond between them. “Were you planning on telling me any time soon?”

“Of course I was! Obviously!” The indignation in Misaki’s tone matched his feelings perfectly - as usual. He scowled. “It was supposed to be a surprise - you’re off in the morning, right? I thought we could, y’know, spend some time together.” One of his hands came up to rub against the back of his neck, a mild undertone of embarrassment coloring his emotions. “Or something like that.”

That shouldn’t have been unexpected - it was very like Misaki - but somehow, Fushimi found himself taken off-guard. He blinked, attempting to collect himself.

Misaki didn’t wait for a response, tearing ahead forcefully as usual. “I mean, I was gone overnight and the last time we fucking talked, we had that stupid fight - fuck, that was so dumb.” He shook his head, letting out a soft ‘ch’ under his breath as his lips twisted further into the scowl. There was an edge of that familiar frustration from the past two days seeping through from his end again. “I wouldn’t have cared you took the last of the coffee - not like I can’t just get more, right? But I was thinking too much about some shit, and I just - ” He made an agitated noise, abandoning the rest of that sentence. “Whatever, anyway… I went and got more.” Hastily, he pulled open the sack and retrieved a familiar bag of coffee beans, looking up to meet Fushimi’s gaze again. His eyes were flashing in the moonlight, stubbornness and determination writ on his expression and echoed through their bond. “Figured I’d make it for us both tomorrow and we could hang out for a bit. Yeah?”

Misaki… Dimly, Fushimi thought he should be able to predict and control this. It happened all the time, after all. But he could never be properly prepared, somehow. So once again, here he was - stunned and captivated by that expressive presence that had bulldozed into his life and settled comfortably at the center of it. He wanted to shut his eyes and will away the furious pounding of his heart, but looking away from that straightforward gaze felt almost unbearable. So he settled for drawing in a breath, gathering his thoughts, and weakly clicking his tongue before reaching into his pocket for his own peace offering.

We were thinking the same thing, huh?

“Here.” He held up the second bag of coffee beans, satisfied with the slight widening of Misaki’s eyes and the surprise filtering through to him as he did. “Now we have more than enough, I guess.”

Misaki blinked a few times in rapid succession as that sunk in, and then abruptly let out a sharp bark of a laugh. “Are you kidding me? What the hell?” The grin that settled on his face was wide and bright, eyes sparkling with the same amusement that outlined his feelings as he reached out to take the second bag. “How’d you even get this, anyway? Didn’t know you had anything to trade for it.”

Fushimi clicked his tongue again, vaguely irritated by the reminder. “I didn’t. The Captain does, though.”

“Damn.” Misaki grimaced with open sympathy. They both knew all too well what making that kind of deal involved. “What kinda shitty jobs did you do?”

At that, he did close his eyes, letting out his breath in an aggrieved huff. “Don’t ask.”

“Right, yeah. I can guess anyway.” When he opened his eyes, Misaki was offering him a lopsided smile. Gratitude and more than a little affection surged through their bond, seeming to envelope him as their eyes met. “Thanks for that.”

Fushimi didn’t have to strain himself to catch the underlying meaning. Thanks for caring enough to put in that effort for me. It was close to how he felt often, where Misaki was concerned. Still, he responded with only an awkward shrug. “It was nothing.”

Once again, that affection gained an amused edge. “Sure,” Misaki responded teasingly, letting out a small ‘heh’ and bumping against his shoulder again, playfully. His eyes grew lidded, a smirk forming on his lips as he regarded Fushimi with warmth.

It was a sight he couldn’t help but find beautiful, heart catching in his throat as he let himself drown in that gaze. Without thinking, Fushimi reached up to brush a stray strand of hair from Misaki’s forehead, letting his fingers linger on the cool skin. “How do you feel about racing home?”

The meaning wasn’t lost; he could see it in the way Misaki’s expression changed subtly, anticipation building both from their bond and in his own head, mingling so that it was impossible to tell where it had originated. The answer was clear even before it was voiced.

“Hell yeah!”


They were on each other before they’d even properly fumbled through unlocking and opening the door, stumbling inside in a flurry of heated kisses and wandering hands. Misaki’s torso was bare from their flight, and Fushimi shamelessly took advantage, fingers mapping the familiar path to the sweet spots he’d so pleasantly discovered in the course of their relationship. Misaki moaned into his mouth, delight and arousal answering his own with abandon, hands gripping Fushimi’s arms, shoulders - everywhere that could be reached - with rough enthusiasm.

Misaki hadn’t withdrawn his wings, only folded them so that they would fit in the smaller space within the apartment, and so Fushimi followed his example, dropping the illusion of his coat and retracting his own wings only long enough so that Misaki could tug his shirt off before loosing them again. He wanted to feel those calloused hands on his skin, rapidly warming with the heat and friction between them as they ground together. But the moonlight streaming through the open window in the kitchen, finally freed of its cloudy prison, seemed to demand more of them.

Or maybe that was just a reflection of the emotion behind this. Fushimi couldn’t be bothered to puzzle it out. He only wanted Misaki in that moment, hard and warm and passionate against him.

Despite the flurry of activity and the urgency fast building between them, things were not moving as fast as Fushimi might have expected. Misaki’s kisses were slow, lingering - deep - underlined with a kind of aching longing that overwhelmed even his arousal. He wasn’t being as aggressive as usual, instead clinging to Fushimi with something like desperation, a silent plea in every action and emotion that passed between them.

It wasn’t difficult to figure out what he needed. Considering the previous night, his mood throughout the day, and the baggage he carried.

“I also wanna know for sure that you want me.”

Fushimi had been there often enough himself, and Misaki was always only too happy to oblige him. The fae were possessive by nature, and it didn’t take much to draw out that side. Now, faced with that same demand, Fushimi found that wild, unrestrained part of his own nature rising up to meet the challenge.

Demons were no less possessive, after all.

Mine. The thought rose into his head unbidden, fueled by the heat of that rush. Fushimi pushed forward on instinct until Misaki hit the edge of the kitchen counter, their mouths separating with the impact. He slid his eyes open just enough to take in that flushed face in front of him, plush lips parted with ragged breathing. Misaki’s eyes opened just a crack, gaze clouded with heat, and Fushimi felt the telltale spike of pleasure from his groin that signalled lustful attraction.

Misaki was stunning. Beautiful. The way his hair brushed his face. The sharp outline of his eyes, the natural downturn of his mouth, the rise of his cheekbones, the curve of his jaw… Everything. Fushimi wanted to take it all into himself and keep it forever, to hold onto the parts of Misaki that only he was allowed to touch and never let go.

“Misaki,” he murmured, their lips brushing, and swallowed the responding shudder with a kiss. My Misaki. Only mine.

That possessive thought was still ringing in his head as he slid his hands down the slope of Misaki’s back to cup and then grip the curve of his ass. Mine. Breaking their kiss with one last swipe of his tongue along the inside line of Misaki’s lips, he began to trail harsh kisses down along Misaki’s jaw, neck, and chest, savoring the taste and the slight give of flesh under his mouth.

So good. He could feel every hitch, every shudder of arousal, the vibration of every moan. Misaki’s arousal fed into his own, made the wait almost unbearable. Trapped within the confines of his pants, his erection throbbed painfully.

Not yet...

Unsteady fingers tangled in his hair, seeking and finding the base of his horns for purchase as he moved purposefully downward. “Saru,” Misaki managed to get out, low and rough, thick with lust and desperation. Fushimi reached the waistband of his pants, hands sliding around to the front so he could remove that particular obstacle. “Saru,” he said again, voice catching in a gasp when Fushimi tugged his pants and underwear down, allowing his cock to spring free.

He’d wanted to tease - slowly work his way up to giving proper satisfaction - but with the rush of blind desire that flooded his head from Misaki’s end, with the scent and the heat and the sight of that telltale bead of fluid at the tip of Misaki’s dick... that plan pretty much went to hell. Overwhelmed by sudden need, Fushimi leaned in to run his tongue over the head, gripping Misaki’s hips with trembling fingers against the abrupt forward jerk at the stimulation. He obligingly followed the forceful guiding motion of Misaki’s hands and widened his mouth to take in the entire length.

The sound that escaped Misaki at the action was loud and breathy, a mix between a moan and a gasp. His fingers were tense and shaking around Fushimi’s horns - the sharp sting as he pulled roughly at them fed right back into Fushimi’s own erection. He paused with his mouth around the base of Misaki’s dick and dropped his right hand to reach between Misaki’s legs and lightly fondle his balls.

They were tight, as expected, and his light touch prompted a shiver; this was going to end abruptly if he wasn’t careful, and he really didn’t feel like being careful. He felt like driving Misaki mad, in the way that only he could.

Because you’re mine. You’re mine, Misaki.

With that goal in mind, Fushimi slid his fingers back, between the cleft of Misaki’s ass, and brushed over the familiar puckered hole at its base.

The reaction was immediate; Misaki let out a strangled sound, the force at which his hands tugged on Fushimi’s horns growing exponentially. “Saru,” he gasped, and jerked helplessly as Fushimi wormed his finger inside. “Wait… wait, I’m…”

Yes. Deliberately ignoring the warning, he curled the finger inward, applying suction to Misaki’s cock at the same time.

It was incredibly gratifying to feel Misaki’s body go taut and then convulse against him, releasing down his throat and throbbing around his finger in the throes of orgasm. He rode out the shivering aftermath and Misaki’s throaty gasps for breath, waiting until he felt the cock in his mouth begin to soften before drawing on that familiar store of energy and pushing a stream of it into the bond that connected them.

The moan that Misaki let out as his body reacted to the fresh flood of arousal was so affected it was nearly a sob. “Saru,” he gritted out, rolling the r more than usual. His tone was sloppy - desperate.

Fushimi slid his mouth off of Misaki’s hardening cock and pulled back just enough to free himself of his pants as he stood again. “You didn’t think we were done already, did you, Misaki?” he murmured, trying to ignore the way his own voice shook. The ache in his erection was nearly painful; he wanted to bury it in Misaki’s body, feel the tight passage clench around it and draw out the pleasure that could only come with sex.

“Fuck,” Misaki gasped, voice breaking as their bodies came into contact again. He clenched his teeth visibly, letting out an impatient ‘ch’, and released Fushimi’s horns. “Shut… up…” His arms dropped to the counter, hands bracing just before he hoisted himself up so he could lift his legs and hook them around Fushimi’s waist to tug him closer. “Just… quit screwing around and” - he was interrupted by the helpless little noises that tore free of them both as their erections brushed together - “fuck me already, Saru!”

The last bit came out as a near growl, challenging and lustful, and Misaki’s flushed face split with a brilliant smirk as Fushimi narrowed his eyes. “I don’t need you to tell me,” he responded, low and dangerous, and revelled in the little spike of arousal that reverberated through their bond at his tone. He reached into the drawer near them for a familiar tube and doled out a generous amount of its contents onto his hand, reaching between their bodies to run it sinuously over his cock and allowing himself a moment to close his eyes and breathe out deeply at the influx of pleasure.

Only a moment, because he was too impatient to wait very long before worming both arms into the space under Misaki’s knees and reaching down to grip his ass and separate the cheeks so that he could slide his dick into the opening thus revealed without obstacle.

The intense sensation that came with the penetration flooded his senses and left him gasping in the initial rush, unable to hold in the tiny desperate whine that rose to his throat as he was overpowered by his own pleasure and the telling surge of arousal and satisfaction from Misaki. He had to clench his teeth to hold himself back from thrusting blindly and chasing that feeling to its inevitable end all too soon. It was something to savor, not to rush, and he wanted to feel Misaki around him, welcoming him and enjoying him, for as long as possible.

It wouldn’t be long regardless, but it was worth drawing out as much as he could.

Having sex like this, in positions that were only possible because of Misaki’s strength and flexibility, had become one of Fushimi’s favorite things. There was something exciting about seeing the muscles in Misaki’s arms ripple as he held himself up, wings braced against the cabinets for stability, specifically so that Fushimi could press him against the counter and fuck him.

The extra effort seemed to excite Misaki just as much, too - the storm of their combined need was particularly intense. It took every ounce of Fushimi’s self-control to keep his thrusts even and deep. He couldn’t hold in the little whimpers that escaped him each time he buried himself fully in Misaki’s body, the blend of mental and physical stimulation causing any rational thought to fracture.

Misaki was getting close too; his thighs were tense against Fushimi’s arms and the shifting of his body in that difficult to hold position was a telltale sign that he wanted very badly to sink back against the movement of Fushimi’s hips. The fact that he was stuck like this, forced to take it at the pace that Fushimi decided on, brought on another little surge of pleasant satisfaction - which may have originated with either or both of them; it was impossible to tell at that point.

We’ll have to do this one again.

The thought had barely occurred to him when Misaki tipped his head back, letting out a wild-sounding moan and exposing his throat. Without thinking, Fushimi found himself leaning in to take the invitation, thrusting hard and deep into Misaki’s ass as he sank his teeth into the base of that taut neck.


Misaki jerked beneath him, stiffening in that telltale way and letting out a strangled moan as came. The clamping of the inner muscles around Fushimi’s dick was the final kiss of death for his already feeble self-control, and he opened his mouth, releasing a wet gasp against Misaki’s skin as shuddering pulses of pleasure overrode everything else.

There was the usual pause as they collected themselves in the aftermath, panting for breath and coming down from the high. As their bodies were still connected, so too were their minds, emotions jumbled together without properly belonging to either of them.

It wasn’t something that demanded an immediate solution; Fushimi was content to feel merged with Misaki in that short period of time. As he came back to his senses, he caught the slightly blurred sight of the angry mark he’d left through his now half-fogged glasses, and lowered his head to run his tongue over the line of it in a sort-of apology.

That’s going to be hard to cover up. Fushimi felt shamelessly satisfied by that fact.

Misaki let out a weak-sounding snort, weary amusement seeping through his haze of satiated contentment. “What the hell was that, Saru?” He shifted his weight, leveraging his wings for balance and freeing one hand to slide along the back of Fushimi’s neck. “Marking your territory?”

He was gorgeous like this, flushed and satisfied with a smirk on his lips and heavy lidded eyes. It made Fushimi’s heart start to pound in his chest, even this soon after finishing. He clicked his tongue lightly, raising an eyebrow in response to the question. “Remind me... when exactly did you protest that?”

“Shut up - you know I didn’t.” Misaki moved his hand up to force Fushimi to tip his head, bringing their foreheads together. He looked thoroughly pleased with himself. “That was… I mean, damn.”

“So descriptive,” Fushimi murmured, but he felt his own lips curling up in a responding smirk.

“Whatever, asshole.” Misaki’s grin was sharp, but his eyes were still soft and fond and there was no hint of irritation in the mass of unsorted emotions between them. “And... thanks.”

Fushimi closed his eyes, for once not feeling the need to dodge that gratitude. In a moment like this, it wasn’t so awkward and embarrassing after all.



The End