Morning After


The morning after his birthday, Yata woke with a dry mouth and a faint but persistent headache. His body felt unusually sweaty and sticky and he could tell even before opening his eyes that he was in an unfamiliar place.

He was also completely naked under the covers of whatever bed he was sleeping on.

It was that last fact that had him shaking off the final haze of sleep and opening his eyes, grimacing at the way the light in the room caused them to sting. Yata muttered a few swears under his breath as the heavy, aching feeling of having had a few too many drinks the night before started to make itself known.

Goddamnit, I told them to cool it with the shots…

That one stray memory seemed to open the floodgate; even as he squinted up at the ceiling, he could feel the evening’s events start to come back to him. Hanging out with his friends at that bar, the classy one he and Saruhiko sometimes went to. Having Saruhiko himself show up, something he’d been vague about beforehand - ‘not enough free time’ and all that crap - along with a few of the Blues that Yata had gotten friendly with during their alliance. Everyone buying him beer, shots, and even a few fancy cocktails with the repeated insistence that you had to get loaded on your own birthday. Stuff started to blur together after a while, but…

His vision cleared. 

The room he was in was a hotel room. Nothing too fancy, but the bed was huge and it was sitting on some kinda platform - he was pretty sure it rotated, even. There were some questionable looking bottles on the side tables and the lighting was artfully dimmed. When he turned his gaze up at the ceiling, his own reflection squinted blurrily back at him, flushed and ruffled and looking thoroughly befuddled, from the large mirror mounted there.

One of those hotel rooms, even.

The sound of a running shower was coming from somewhere nearby, and when he glanced in that direction, he could see light coming from beneath the closed door across the room. Further investigation revealed that the other side of the bed was empty but the covers were in disarray - clearly, someone else had slept there.

Holy shit… For a moment, Yata could only stare blankly at the evidence of what had obviously happened, the pieces falling together in his head before his thoughts had quite caught up.

He had… he had totally gotten laid last night, hadn’t he?

Coming to that realization was like reaching a trigger point in a video game to unlock a cutscene - or, in this case, a memory. The vivid impression of his mouth pressed against someone else’s, opening and moving with hot, clumsy fervency as they pressed together. Pulling off his clothing with haste between sloppy kisses; the feel of hands on his naked body; the warmth of uncovered skin beneath his fingers. They’d been rough with each other, grasping harshly for purchase against arms, hips, torso, anywhere - tumbling blindly onto the bed and rolling a few times before coming together somewhere in the middle. The chest against his was flat and firm; he could very clearly recall how delicious the contact had been and how much pleasure had come just from their lower bodies rubbing sinuously against one another. The heat of another man’s erect cock moving against his own had sent him over the edge, an unexpectedly intense orgasm ripping through him as he was pressed down hard against the mattress.

There was heat rising on Yata’s face now, embarrassment at the erotic recollection nearly overpowering his senses. Fuck. He pushed himself up to lean forward against his knees, letting the bedcovers sink around his hips and running a hand over his face as he shut his eyes against the rush. It didn’t help that the memory had him about halfway hard now, a pleasant prickle of arousal overriding the discomfort left by his excessive drinking the night before.

Damn, it had been good, he had to admit, going by just the memory alone. Even aside from that first hasty climax, he had other impressions rushing back: the sensation of muscle tensing and relaxing under his tongue as he migrated down along a toned stomach; the feel of fingers threading in his hair and encouragingly pulling him down; the weight and bulk of his partner’s dick sliding into his mouth with surprising ease.

… The reversal, lying on his back with his legs spread and hands securing his hips, feeling warmth and suction closing around his own cock as his thoughts broke apart in the wake of intense pleasure.

Holy shit. Yata could feel his cheeks flaming beneath his fingers, breath growing short and ragged against his palm as his pulse started to quicken. They’d really done… that. Recalling the taste and the feeling gave him another little squirmy rush of arousal, his body taking further interest at the memory of what it had done to incite those sensations.

They’d done it, and it had been good.

That single fact was still sinking in when the bathroom door opened, and he turned his head instinctively just as his partner in this unexpected little affair stepped out.

Instantly, his skin prickled up, and his earlier embarrassment seemed to fly out the window. Because that tall, lanky figure standing in the doorway in just a thin shirt and pants with a towel wrapped around his neck and his dark hair hanging damp and limp around his face was so familiar Yata would’ve recognized him in his sleep.


It didn’t feel like as much of a shock as it should’ve. Even as Yata sat there on the bed, blinking stupidly at his oldest friend - his oldest friend who he’d just fucking had sex with last night - something in the back of his mind seemed to click into place. The thought crossed his mind: ‘Oh. So that’s it.’

Of course it was Saruhiko. Of course.

There was no real time to process that revelation before Saruhiko made a sour face, clicking his tongue and turning away from Yata’s gaze. “You’re already awake, huh?” he muttered, sounding a bit put out. “Do you actually remember anything from last night, or am I going to have to explain it?”

The petulant tone grated on his nerves; Yata scowled back, instinctively on the defensive before he could properly think about it. “Why the hell wouldn’t I remember?”

“Hmm?” That response was drawn out almost mockingly, a tone that Yata had begun to recognize as Saruhiko hoisting his own defenses. That cool gaze met his again; behind the slightly fogged lens of his glasses, one of Saruhiko’s eyebrows raised. “Based on how many drinks you had…” He spread his hands, almost lazily. “Who knows.”

Right, the drinks… And now that it had been brought back up, Yata sorta remembered something else. A whole tray of shots set on the table in front of him, when he still had a nearly full glass in his hand. He’d already been feeling tipsy, and the prospect had been kind of alarming. He’d tried to laugh it off at first.

“Hey, c’mon, this is getting stupid - ”

A light snort from beside him. “Lightweight,” Saruhiko’s murmur followed.

“Huh? What the hell? Look who’s talking!” Yata leaned sideways in the booth to offer a pugnacious scowl in return, not fully serious about it but going with the flow of their usual banter. “As if you’re any better, Saru.”

Saruhiko met his stare head on, unphased. “Your memory must be going if you think so.”

“Yeah?” Impulsively, Yata slid the tray on the table, causing the shots on it to quiver as it came to rest between them. He smirked at the narrow look Saruhiko gave him. “Prove it.”

Neither of them was good at turning down a challenge. He could already see the fire lighting in Saruhiko’s gaze, even before he clicked his tongue and reached for the nearest glass. “Fine.”

That was it - that was how it had started.

At this point, Yata couldn’t remember who had won that impromptu competition - if either of them had. He vaguely recalled getting up from his seat and feeling unsteady on his feet, grinning stupidly at the laughing group of his friends as he stumbled for the bathroom. Saruhiko had been with him - he remembered the two of them bumping into each other, shoving back and forth playfully with their elbows.

Saruhiko had been smiling too, fierce and wide. It had been difficult to look away from his face, with how it transformed when he was like that.

Something inside his chest had seemed to flip, and he’d been able to see that same something reflected back in Saruhiko’s eyes. Acknowledgement - mutual understanding. It was too perfect.

Yata didn’t quite remember going through the bathroom door. He didn’t remember stumbling into a stall, or closing it behind them. But he vividly recalled how it had felt to press back against the closed stall door, tilting his head up as Saruhiko tilted his down - how their lips had met tentatively. So achingly, agonizingly soft. Phantom shivers went through him just from the memory, the longing he’d felt in that moment rising up again to clog his throat.

In that moment, he was painfully aware of just how much he’d wanted that kiss without even knowing it. Almost from the very start of their relationship, years ago. It was the sweetest thing he’d ever experienced, that unfulfilled desire being finally, finally answered.

Part of him had probably always known.

The silence had stretched on just a little too long while he was feeling the weight of the remembered awakening. Saruhiko clicked his tongue again, turning his head to break their gaze and frowning at the wall instead with obvious displeasure. “You’re better off not remembering anyway.”

Following on the heels of his recent memory, those words hurt more than they probably should’ve. Yata felt his hands curl into fists at his side, the now-familiar blend of frustration and confusion that rose at these moments when the two of them had a disconnect in understanding flaring up in immediate response. He had to force his voice even when he responded. “Why?”

“‘Why’?” Saruhiko repeated, still in that hatefully condescending drawl. He was still not making eye contact. “Isn’t it less awkward if at least one of us forgets this happened?”

Years of dealing with this crap had at least given Yata some perspective on some of Saruhiko’s baiting tactics, but that didn’t make it easier to handle. He could feel the hurt and the indignation surging up through his veins, demanding a response - demanding that he jump out of bed and grab Saruhiko by the collar and shake him. His fingers clenched even more tightly, almost painfully, as he forced the urge back.

It was a statement designed to cut, but it wasn’t just aimed at him. It was defensive at its heart in a way that was hauntingly familiar.

Yata didn’t fully understand Saruhiko - couldn’t wrap his head around what drove him to be like this, even after hearing the mumbled explanations during the series of painfully honest conversations they’d had as they healed their broken relationship. But more and more, he was able to recognize patterns and habits.

More and more, he was resolving to be honest and straightforward about his own feelings in response - even if he had to choke on his pride a little in the process - rather than playing into that game of secrets and lies. It was the best way he’d found to reach for the things he wanted without either forcing things to go his way or getting manipulated into a distraction.

Not gonna let you dick me around like that anymore.

Yata sucked in a long breath, then shook his head, forcing his hands to soften. “Heh.” He managed a wry grin. “You still pull that shit when you’re feeling cornered, huh?”

That at last earned him Saruhiko’s attention, although the gaze that shifted his way was wary. “What are you talking about?”

“You know.” Feeling buoyed by that small success, Yata shifted toward the edge of the bed, swinging his body around so that his feet were on the floor. “That whole ‘break everything’ bullshit.” Despite the fact it was kinda awkward to be naked when Saruhiko was dressed, he deliberately shifted aside the covers and pushed himself to stand, pugnaciously scowling to cover any residual embarrassment. “If last night was a mistake for you, fine, whatever. Just spell it out for me, and I’ll let it go.”

It was necessary to brace himself internally as he met Saruhiko’s gaze with as much conviction as he could muster. “It wasn’t for me, though.”

That much, he was sure of. The memory of their first kiss still burned brightly inside his head. He could remember it clearly - not just the press of Saruhiko’s lips on his or the mingling of their breath or the way his skin had prickled with awareness, but also the way his heart had felt like it would explode with the intensity of the emotions surging through him. Relief. Affection. Desire. Happiness. Satisfaction.

The very obvious absence of any confusion or uncertainty.

Everything they had done had felt good. It had felt right. And he wanted more. So much more…

Saruhiko’s eyes widened noticeably in response to his declaration, and Yata felt a tiny thread of the uncertainty that had been missing the night before worm its way through his thoughts. His instincts wanted him to believe that everything had been mutual - that the sense of understanding he remembered from when their eyes met had been real, and not something he’d imagined because he’d wanted it so badly. But that was where he made a lot of his mistakes in the past, right? Assuming things. Projecting his feelings onto other people.

In the end, he really had no idea what Saruhiko’s feelings were about this.

And that was why the only way to do this was to say exactly what he did know - to put himself out there, and take whatever answer he got.

After that initial surprise, Saruhiko seemed to collect himself, frowning in response as his eyes narrowed again. He clicked his tongue and mumbled, “Do you even know what you’re saying?”

“Huh?” Yata returned the frown. “What’s that s’posed to mean? Of course I do!”

“Do you really?” Saruhiko raised an eyebrow at him, another little sardonic smirk turning his lips up at the corners. “You remember what we did last night, right?” He lowered his eyelids a bit, slowly drawing out his next word. “Everything?”

The reminder sent a hot flush rushing up Yata’s neck to settle across his cheeks. “Th-that’s - !” He was suddenly, embarrassingly aware of his own nudity, and had to struggle against the immediate urge to cover himself. It was stupid - Saruhiko had already seen everything, up close and personal - but still somehow…

Still somehow, he couldn’t help but be reminded of how he’d got that way in the first place - eager fingers tugging at the fabric of his shirt and the zipper of his pants almost before the door slammed shut behind them. He’d done his part to help that along too, enthusiastically discarding each piece of clothing as it was insistently pulled off of him and returning the favor with Saruhiko’s shirt, pants, and cardigan as well. They’d both been impatient and fueled with confidence from the alcohol, pawing at each inch of bare skin as it was exposed.

Both of them had clearly wanted it in the moment, that was for sure.

The exact details of exactly how they’d migrated from the bathroom stall out of the bar and then to the hotel district were kind of blurry. He only remembered a sense of increasingly heightened anticipation and excitement, and the shivery thrill of exploring something fresh and unknown and fascinating. Trading glances with Saruhiko and seeing those same feelings reflected back at him, and knowing. Hell, he’d ditched his own birthday party. The two of them had booked a room at a goddamn love hotel. It hadn’t been all that spontaneous.

Even if it still kind of felt that way now, in the aftermath.

Saruhiko seemed to take his silence as some kind of weakness, because he made another of those low, mocking hums. “Are you that bothered by it, Misaki?”

“Shut up!” Yata blurted back, without even thinking about it. He huffed a bit, flustered. “I didn’t say I was bothered by it!” Reaching up to scratch at the back of his head with agitated energy, he muttered, “I’m just not used to it, s’all.” The words were barely out of his mouth before it occurred to him that he could turn this around, and he glared back stubbornly. “Anyway, you’re the same, right? That’s why you keep flipping this shit around and trying to distract me.”

Saruhiko blinked at him, clearly taken aback, and then clicked his tongue again, the smirk seeming to slide off his face. “Distract you from what, exactly?”

“From…” Yata struggled with that for a moment, before going for the simplest answer and swinging his hand around to indicate the room they were in. “This.” He brought that same hand back in front of him to wave back and forth between the two of them. “Us.”

The wariness was still there in Saruhiko’s expression, but he wasn’t looking away from Yata now. “What kind of ‘us’ are you talking about?”

It was about as plain a question as he was likely to get - considering the source, anyway. The easiest answer - What the hell do you think? - was on the tip of his tongue, but Yata managed to choke it back and stick with as much bare honesty as he could summon up. “Dunno about your side, but for me…” It was surprisingly difficult to force the words out; he could feel his cheeks grow warm as he did. “I - y’know - I liked it. What we did. Last night.”

Saruhiko blinked at him, clearly taken aback by that declaration. He opened his mouth, then closed it again and frowned. After a brief and very awkward pause he tried again, eyebrows furrowing. “What are you - ?”

“What the hell, Saruhiko?” Yata cut him off before he could finish that stupid question. “Don't play dumb, you asshole - are you seriously gonna make me spell it out for you?” He didn't even wait for an answer, scowling with enough aggravation to almost overpower his embarrassment. “I got feelings for you, dumbass!” The confession sent another flood of uncomfortable heat up his neck, and he deepened his scowl in instinctive response. “That's - that's plain enough for you, right?”

He had the satisfaction of seeing Saruhiko’s eyes widen at that, momentarily open and uncharacteristically defenseless. “Misaki…” he said, voice a curious blend of wonder and disbelief. And then he seemed to think twice on it, that old wariness rising like a protective layer across his face. “You decided that overnight, huh?”

You gotta be kidding me… Yata narrowed his eyes. “I realized it last night. When we - ” It was amazing how embarrassing it still was to say. “When we kissed, that first time, back at the bar… I got it. Everything just made sense. It felt like I’d been waiting for it for years without knowing.”

The frank confession had another surge of awkward awareness through him. Yata was starkly conscious of his own shameless nudity as he spouted out his most personal feelings, but he couldn't stop now. Not when he’d come this far already.

“It's always been you in my head like that,” he said, stubbornly holding his gaze steady on Saruhiko’s face. Only now was he noticing just how well he knew the small details of that face - all the curves and edges and the way it moved with different expressions. “I just never realized until it got spelled out for me. Then everything just… clicked.”

Shoulda been obvious, huh?

His last words hung in the air for what felt like a long, painful moment as Saruhiko stared blankly at him, seemingly robbed of any kind of sarcastic or biting response. And then, just as Yata was starting to shift anxiously on his feet, he abruptly clicked his tongue, turning his gaze to the side.

“It just clicked now?” he murmured, almost as if to himself. To Yata's amazement, a tiny hint of color seemed to have risen on his pale cheeks. “You're always late with these things, aren't you, Misaki?”

Something about the sight bolstered Yata's spirits just a little. “Shut up! I get it, okay? I'm slow with this crap sometimes.” Still… He hasn't rejected me yet. With Saruhiko, that was a positive sign - but he wasn't about to take anything for granted. “So?” Yata braced a hand on his hip, forcing as much confidence as he could muster. “You heard about me; now what about you?” A mix of anxiety and hope was brewing behind his ribcage, expanding so strongly he was sure it would bust its way out. His voice when he spoke again came out more tentative than he would've liked. “How - How do you feel? About me.”

Saruhiko let out a soft sound, like something between a hum and a chuckle. For a moment, he closed his eyes, lips curling up at the corners of his mouth with apparent reluctance.

Yata swallowed, reminded himself to breathe, and clenched the fingers of his free hand into a fist. And waited.

“You want to know how I feel?” Saruhiko drawled out, after that seemingly endless pause. He tipped his head back up and forward, lowering his eyelids and offering that lazy smirk Yata was so familiar with. There was a spark in his eyes that was almost manic. “I spent years of my life interested in you, and only you.” A sardonic undertone crept into his voice as he continued, “And somehow, I managed to be in denial through most of it. But I’ve known for some time now what I want.”

The combination of that soft mumbling tone, the words themselves, and the intense gaze that accompanied them had Yata’s stomach doing somersaults. “And what’s that?” he shot back, with as much bravado as he could summon.

“You.” The answer was immediate; Saruhiko’s gaze didn’t waver. “Everything about you. I want to see everything there is to see about you, hear every sound you produce…” A short, very poignant pause. “Feel” - Delicate fingers brushed a lock of hair from his face, and Yata felt his skin prickle - “every inch of you.” The touch lingered, and the manic look in Saruhiko’s eyes shifted to a kind of undeniable longing, so open and intense that it caused an ache to rise up swift and strong at the back of Yata’s throat. “I think about you all the time - you’re always there, at the back of my mind. I’ve felt like this for so long I don’t even remember what it was like when I didn’t.”

It was difficult to even breathe, much less formulate a response. Yata stared back, unable to tear his gaze and certain he didn’t want to anyway.


A soft, faintly mocking hum followed that brief silence, and Saruhiko withdrew his fingers, studying Yata covertly behind his lashes. “Does it bother you, Misaki? My feelings? A little much for you, are they?”

Even if he hadn’t caught the edge of self-preservation behind that, Yata would still have managed to collect himself at that point, shaking his head to dismiss that conclusion. “Are you kidding me?” He could feel the tremor in his fingers - his body - all the way down to his bones. “That was awesome.” The grin that spread across his face felt like it had bubbled to the surface without his consciously sending it there, but he didn’t care. This feeling… this raw excitement… There was nothing else like it. “You’re so…” Impulsively, he snatched up Saruhiko’s retreating hand and brought it back to his face, tipping his head sideways into it. “Amazing. You’re amazing, Saruhiko.” Catching the way those cool blue eyes widened, he followed up his advantage with shameless enthusiasm. “And I’m crazy about you too, you fucking dumbass!”

Those words could’ve started a fire; Yata could feel it building in the way Saruhiko’s fingers trembled in his grip - in the way Saruhiko’s eyes widened and then narrowed, darkening with intense focus. He could feel it in himself, raging from the inside, as hot and thrilling as Homra’s blaze.

And still - still - he wasn’t ready for the moment when Saruhiko’s mouth found his, fierce and desperate and clumsy, fueled by the pent-up longing he’d seen before. The sensation in his chest and through his body was something like an explosion. Nerves, tension, passion - all of it crashing together within him. He could only go with his instincts: focus on the pleasant pressure of lips against his, press back up into the kiss with all of his own excitement, and… breathe.

It was more vivid in the moment - or maybe that was due to being sober this time. The little details - fabric wrinkling in his fists, frenzied breath fanning over his cheeks, fingers pressing hard into the crease of his hips - seemed to stand out starkly. The clumsy wet glide of tongue against his lips and inside his mouth had that pleasant buzz of arousal firing to life in the pit of Yata’s belly; he couldn’t hold back a moan, and the soft, desperate-sounding response he got from Saruhiko sent a hot shuddering wave through his body.

Goddamn. It really was incredible. He should’ve known. Everything between the two of them was like this.

He wasn’t even really sure how much time had passed by the time Saruhiko pulled back a fraction, murmuring his name in a way that brushed their mouths together as Yata chased him in momentary confusion. “Misaki…” There was a moment of hesitation, almost imperceptible but enough that Yata opened his eyes a fraction so their gazes could meet. 

Saruhiko’s glasses were askew on his nose, cheeks flushed and eyes still intent with that inferno of emotion. It set Yata’s heart to racing just looking at him. When he continued, the familiar slow mumbling timbre of his voice had an underlying desperation to it. “Let me fuck you.”

With that look and that tone, the words went straight to the building erection between Yata’s legs. “Yeah,” he managed to respond, voice unsteady. Clearing his throat against the anxious excitement, he yanked sharply against the fabric of the shirt still draped over Saruhiko’s shoulders and tried again. “Yeah.”

That was enough encouragement for Saruhiko to discard the stupid thing, shrugging it off with haste as he leaned in. Yata was pretty much done with waiting, reaching down for the fastening on Saruhiko’s pants instead. His fingers were unusually clumsy, tense with nerves and distracted by the arousal that lit his body again as Saruhiko urged him impatiently to step backwards toward the bed, their lips meeting and parting multiple times in short, heated kisses.

There was some awkwardness when the back of Yata’s knees hit the edge of the mattress and he nearly overbalanced. It forced them to part momentarily so that they could focus on ridding Saruhiko of the last of his clothing and when that was done there was a moment when they just kind of… stood there, naked and hesitant, eyeing each other with mingled desire and uncertainty.

Damnit, this was way easier when we were drunk.

That didn’t mean he was cool with stopping, though. Yata let himself fall back onto the bed, trying not to think about it too closely and desperately ignoring the rush of embarrassment that rose up brazenly as a flush across his face. “Right,” he said gruffly, forcing down the tremor in his voice. “Let’s do this!” It was pure bravado but whatever, couldn’t be helped. He smirked back up in open challenge, spreading his arms impulsively. “C’mon, Saru.”

He could tell immediately by the answering spark in Saruhiko’s eyes that it was the right move. There wasn’t time to process that really, though, because his invitation was taken immediately and he found himself pinned down to the bed with surprising force. “Misaki,” Saruhiko all but sighed out, eyes going lidded again and lips curling up just slightly even as he leaned in for another kiss.

Through the pleasant haze, the reality of what they were about to do was worming its way up to the forefront of Yata’s mind. Saruhiko’s lean hips were already settled between his thighs, their cocks rubbing together in a deliciously sinuous motion as they exchange increasingly sloppy kisses. It was distracting - but not distracting enough that he didn’t notice Saruhiko’s fingers sliding down and past his hips, curling around his ass cheeks with obvious intent.

He’s gonna… in there… It was kind of unnerving - going all the way, just like that - but at the same time... well…

Impulsively, he freed one hand to snake it between them, finding the hot length of Saruhiko’s dick with his fingers. The movement caused Saruhiko’s body to quiver, and Yata drank in the soft moan that vibrated against his open mouth greedily.

Feeling it like this in his hand and thinking about what it was going to feel like inside him was a serious turn-on. A little surge of pleasure shot through his lower body, precum oozing from the head of his dick, and another of those involuntary sounds escaped his throat in response.

Might’ve been kinda scary, sure, but it was hot as hell at the same time!

Saruhiko pulled back, breaking their kiss with obvious reluctance. His eyes were hazy with desire, cheeks flushed under the rim of his glasses, lips red and swollen, and the sight of him had Yata’s breath catching in his throat. Unconsciously, his fingers clenched in the hair at the base of Saruhiko’s neck, nerves on edge from the visual and physical stimulation.

Despite the fact that it clearly made reaching to the nightstand more awkward, Saruhiko didn’t attempt to dislodge him, groping blindly on the table with obviously unsteady fingers for a moment or two before he reached his aim.

It took a bit to refocus on what he was grabbing. Yata squinted at the bottle - right, lube, obviously - and the thin package. “We really need a condom?”

Saruhiko paused, then raised an eyebrow at him in response. “Unless you want it bareback and messy.”

Somehow just the wording of that… Bareback. The feel of Saruhiko’s dick in his hand - in his mouth, even, with his memories from last night. Messy. Oh yeah, he remembered that too: the telltale quiver that came with Saruhiko’s orgasm, just a bare instant before his mouth was flooded…

In the heavy silence that fell, Yata could feel his face and body growing hot. It was difficult to meet Saruhiko’s gaze as awareness slowly settled between them.

Damn… don’t make me say it!

Saruhiko blinked several times, seemingly taken aback. It was sort of a cute reaction, but it didn’t last long; after that brief moment of realization, his eyelids lowered, corners of his mouth curling in a smirk. “Really?”

The expression should not have been a turn-on. Yata felt his eyebrow twitch, and scowled against the embarrassment. “Just get on with it already!”

“Mm.” The smirk didn’t budge, but there was clear fondness in Saruhiko’s gaze behind that teasing edge. He set the condom package aside and flipped the cap on the bottle, awkwardly shifting his weight so that he could pour a generous amount into his palm. “So impatient, Misaki.”

This was it. A sudden mix of excitement and anxiety had Yata huffing out a low ‘heh’ and offering his own smirk in response. “Like you’re not!”

He expected another flippant reply, but Saruhiko surprised him by offering a lidded but intent stare instead, fully serious as he mumbled back, “I’ve been waiting all this time, haven’t I?”

All this time. The words resonated. “Yeah, well,” Yata responded gruffly, swallowing back against a rush of emotion, “just ’cause I didn’t know I was waiting doesn’t mean I wasn’t doing the same.” He met that gaze boldly, drinking in the charged energy between them and letting the hand still braced at the back of Saruhiko’s neck slide forward to cup the side of his jaw. “So let’s get on with it, huh?”

Something in Saruhiko’s eyes seemed to soften, just a bit. He let out an amused huff, pressing very slightly against Yata’s hand. “If you say so.” Without waiting for a response, he lowered his slicked fingers, prodding with surprising gentleness at the base of Yata’s ass.

Yata took the hint, shifting to bend his knees and move his legs further apart. The touch felt more intimate than others had before - it gave him an odd sense of vulnerability that chewed on his nerves a little. But at the same time, he didn’t… dislike it. 

Even when Saruhiko pushed his fingers in, one first and then the others as Yata gave him shaky nods to signal that he’d adjusted, it was… not bad. Kind of almost good. Strange, yeah, and there was a stretch that wasn’t quite comfortable, but still. The sliding sensation as those slender digits moved in and out of him was sensual enough to build up some anticipation for what was coming.

Saruhiko looked up to meet Yata’s gaze as he pulled his fingers free and reached for the bottle again. There was an unspoken question in them - ‘are you okay?’ - along with a demand - ‘tell me if you’re not’ - that Yata picked up in an instant. He offered a grin in return, curling one hand into a thumbs up.

Gimme all you got, Saru!

Apparently the message got across clearly, because Saruhiko’s lips curled up a tiny bit. His eyes shut briefly as he ran lube-covered fingers down his dick to coat it, a little shudder rocking his body. As Yata watched, momentarily enchanted by the sight, he let out a shaky, desperate murmur of, “Misaki.”

“Nn.” The sound escaped Yata unconsciously, though whether it was in response to the visual, the voice, or the feeling of Saruhiko’s dick pressing against the base of his ass wasn’t entirely clear to him. His head felt foggy with lust. “Yeah… Saruhiko…”

And then Saruhiko was pressing inside him, and the sharp sting that accompanied the stretch as his body spread to accommodate took all the breath out of him in a rush. For the first few seconds he tensed up, until the pain of the initial entry started to ease and he could focus more on the actual sensation of being filled.

It was… pretty hot, no surprise.

As the stars started to clear from his vision and reality intruded in that bubble of feeling, Yata became aware of Saruhiko’s eyes on him. That gaze was a storm of emotion, though it was hard to place all of it. Mostly, he got the impression of need - desperation. Saruhiko shut his eyes shortly after they made contact, lashes standing out on the flushed skin beneath them. He was clearly holding himself back.

That was sorta endearing. Yata took in a breath and let it out in a huff, smiling. “Hey.” He reached up with shaky fingers to brush the damp fringe of dark hair away from Saruhiko’s face. “M’good. Move.”

It was short, but effective. Saruhiko opened his eyes again, a fire seeming to light within their depths, and his grip on Yata’s hips tightened just a fraction before he shifted his own hips forward to push all the way inside.

It hit them both; Yata unintentionally dropped his head back, fractured shivers of pleasure and pain seeming to shoot all along the lines of his frayed nerves. In the same moment, Saruhiko moaned loudly, mouth dropping open and eyes fluttering shut.

Fuck… good…

There wasn’t space to think deeply about it, even if Yata had been capable of it; their eyes met, and there was no doubt they were on the same wavelength. Yes, more, faster… There was less pain and more delicious sliding and filling as Saruhiko pulled out and thrust back in, the tension in Yata’s lower body building all the more with each motion.

He couldn’t have helped it if he’d wanted to. Yata worked his hand between his legs and took his own cock in hand, thumbing the moisture weeping from the tip and letting out an involuntary moan as he began to jerk himself to Saruhiko’s pace.

It didn’t take long. Assaulted by sensation from within and without, Yata reached the breaking point quickly, release seeming to shudder through him in waves of intense pleasure.

Above him, Saruhiko abruptly bit his lip, eyes wild with desperation, and thrust twice more in hard, fast succession before stiffening up and letting out a low cry. His cock twitched within Yata’s body, a little rush of warmth accompanying it. The sensation brought another unexpected jolt of pleasure and a last spurt of come from Yata’s dick at the tail end of his orgasm. He was still trembling in its wake as Saruhiko’s whole body started to shake violently and he abruptly slumped forward, spent.

The fractured remnants of Yata’s thoughts seemed to melt back into the bed along with his weary muscles. For that first moment of afterglow, he stared up at Saruhiko’s slack face with a kind of wonder, lulled by the echo of their shared breathing.

We really just did that, huh? It felt unreal, but also right. Like something that should’ve happened ages ago.

Well… plenty of time still to make up for that.

Saruhiko seemed to come back to himself around the same time as Yata, raising his head wearily so their gazes met. A faint, almost bewildered little smile was playing on his lips.

Yata found the responding grin spreading on his own before he thought about it, and reached up impulsively to cup the side of that flushed face above him, gratified when Saruhiko shut his eyes and leaned into the touch. In that moment of mutual openness, he didn’t mind blurting out the first lazy thought that came to mind.

“Happy birthday, me.”


The End