Picking up the Pieces




Muscle memory, Yata had noticed, was way more effective than conscious-thought memory.

At least, that was how it seemed when he had Saruhiko beneath him on the bed, both of them most of the way undressed and with his fingers wandering eagerly over that smooth, pale skin. It was like they were guided by some sort of primal instinct, finding the spots that made his boyfriend writhe and moan without assistance from his (somewhat over-excited) conscious brain.

Saruhiko caught Yata's left hand as he was running the thumb of it over a nipple, and brought it to his lips, eyes raising in a gaze that could probably only be called 'smoldering'.

It was sexy as fuck, and for one confused moment he was caught up in staring back, the fingers of his right hand trembling against Saruhiko's belly. That moist heat he could feel against his palm was working fast to drive him to the point of madness. They were still only at the foreplay stage, and Yata could already feel a tense urgency building in his groin. A lot of the pull came from the echo of his dream from the night before - that tantalizing sample of what it was going to be like to thrust up into his boyfriend's body and watch his face while he did. He had enough intimate familiarity with just how good it felt to be on the receiving end, and he wanted – needed – to see Saruhiko's reactions to it.

He'd thought about it even before the dream, but really, that was what had led to this.



Following their reconciliation, Yata had kind of expected to get suddenly flooded with memories - after all, that unpleasant last phone call had been the sticking point, and it just sort of made sense that things would start to flow nicely once it was out of the way. Unfortunately, it didn't exactly happen that way - he had enough to piece together a lot of the past year, and there were things outside of his relationship with Saruhiko that were just kind of hanging out in his head all fully remembered and everything, but the gaps were still there. It was coming back a lot faster now that he had a grasp of the bigger picture, but there were still some things that caught him by surprise.

He wouldn't call waking up from a particular vivid dream where he'd been fucking his boyfriend into the mattress of his own bed a surprise, exactly... but yeah...

I couldn't see his face. Weirdly enough - well, as weird as it could be with an insistent hard-on demanding his attention - that was the first thought that had entered his head when he'd opened his eyes and found himself staring at the ceiling of Saruhiko's bedroom, all alone in that huge bed.

It did kind of make sense, though, considering how turned on he got by visual evidence that his boyfriend wanted him. Yata pushed back the covers and sat up, feeling maybe a little too overheated as he adjusted his boxers and tried to avoid the urge to do something about the result of his dream. Saru's going to be back tonight - I can fucking wait, goddamnit! His sex drive was out of control these days - hell, they'd done it just last night before going to bed, and here he was like ten hours later, horny as ever.

“Man, seriously,” he muttered, running an agitated hand through his hair. “That stupid monkey turned me into a pervert or something.”

Still, since he’d lost his memories, they hadn’t exactly done it… that way yet. Like… with him on top. Yata shut his eyes and grimaced, feeling the familiar burn on his cheeks. He knew already that he’d lost his virginity to Saruhiko in every sense, including that one, but with him not remembering anything, it had been easier to just kind of go with the flow.

It wasn’t like being on the bottom wasn’t awesome, because it was.

And it wasn’t like they’d done it that way every time, either – hell, just last night Saruhiko had gone down on him and that had felt fucking amazing, too. He’d even managed to return the favor, and apparently remembered better than he’d thought because it hadn’t taken long at all and the reactions he’d gotten were… were…

Shut up, brain – this is not helping.

Right, well. Anyway. The point was, he was a man, and sometimes he wanted to – you know – be the one doing the screwing.

The question was… with him still not having all his memories, would Saruhiko even let him?

I could totally make it good. Yata frowned down at the mattress, already feeling the slight blow to his pride at the imagined rejection. The dream – memory, rather – he’d just had was kind of incomplete, but he got the just of it. Mostly. He squirmed a bit, contemplating the details. Just – I kind of want to do it from the front, so I can see…

That was a dangerous line of thought.

“Ah, fuck, whatever!” In a rush of mixed embarrassment and restless heat, he pushed himself up off the bed and headed purposefully for the door. I’ll just – I’ll just have to convince him. I can do that. He’s my fucking boyfriend; I should be able to turn him on.

For now, though… hopefully a cold shower would take his mind off of this whole subject, because it already felt like it was going to be a long day.



“I’m home.”

The sound of Saruhiko’s familiar, lazy greeting had Yata hitting the pause button on his game almost before he’d gotten the whole phrase out. “Welcome back.” He turned on the couch, leaning one elbow over the back so he could look his boyfriend in the face as he finished removing his boots and came into the main part of the apartment.

His heart was probably going a mile a minute. Seriously. That stupid dream hadn’t left his head all day. Just the sound of Saruhiko’s voice had given him a little twinge, and now, watching him pull off that stupid blue jacket, the familiar coil of anticipation was already building in his gut.

This shouldn’t be hard, right? There was no reason why his hands should feel clammy all of a sudden. There shouldn’t be dread mixing around with the excitement in his chest, either. After all, it was just Saru.

Just the love of his goddamn life; no big deal – right?


“Spacing out again?” When he brought his focus back, Saruhiko had an eyebrow quirked at him. “Seems like you’re making a habit of that, Misaki.”

Okay. Whatever. This was fine. He could… he could shake this off. Yata set down the controller and scrambled off the couch. “Y-Yeah, well…” What would be a good response? “You try getting cracked on the head and having to get back a year’s worth of memories, and see how well you do.”

The frown on his boyfriend’s face was gaining a suspicious edge as he approached. “What are you after this time?”

“Nothing!” Except your ass. And – there it was – he was definitely blushing now. Yata scowled against his embarrassment, meeting Saruhiko’s gaze defiantly. “Wh-What makes you so sure I’m after something?”

“Who knows.” That breezy know-it-all tone came along with a pair of raised eyebrows; Saruhiko sighed, deftly sidestepping him as he headed for the bathroom. “I’m having a shower before dinner.”

Yata stared after him, mildly disgruntled with the way that had gone. What the fuck is even wrong with me? We’re dating, so why isn’t this easy? It really shouldn’t be that hard to say ‘hey, let’s have sex – I’m on top, okay?’

Maybe not in those exact words, but whatever – same idea.

The bathroom door had already been shut firmly; after a moment of silence, he could hear the sound of the shower running.

Saru’s in the shower. It was an innocent enough thought – at first. But his over-sexed brain wasn’t merciful enough to let it end there. Yata could feel another rush of heat roll up his neck and over his face as the inevitable mental image wormed its way into his head: Saruhiko was in the shower, naked and wet.

Just beyond that door.

He swallowed hard, wiped his suddenly sweaty palms on his shorts, and stared at the offending piece of wood with some uncertainty. Showering together… could be a thing, right? It should be okay – they had sex pretty much every day, when they weren’t at each other’s throats (and probably even when they were, sometimes). Surprising your lover in the shower was a totally acceptable ‘couples’ thing to do. Hell, they’d probably already done it a few times, and he just couldn’t remember.

Right, yeah, I’m going for it.

Decision made, Yata marched up to the door, reached for the handle, and –


Are you fucking kidding me? Yata scowled at the door. He was starting to feel like a bit of an idiot. Of course Saruhiko would lock him out. Why would that fussy bastard allow fun things like being surprised in the shower if he could possibly prevent it? He probably did it just to piss me off.

The thought didn’t do much to ease his mind. Yata rubbed at the back of his neck, feeling awkward and unsure – and a little irritated about it. Somehow, the clear and obvious evidence that his boyfriend had boundaries he was unaware of was a hard hit to his confidence. What else did he not know about that might be a deal breaker?

Could just ask him. Yeah, just like he ‘could’ just ask if tonight was his turn on top. Words were hard.

With one last anxious glance at the bathroom door, Yata sighed, gave up, and headed into the kitchen. At least he could put together a couple of plates for them or something. It might calm his nerves a bit.

Probably not, but it was worth a try, anyway.

Saruhiko came out of the bathroom as he was setting the plates down on the table – complete with what was probably the smallest towel they owned wrapped around his waist. Yata licked his lips without thinking, and reminded himself that he was allowed to look. They were screwing each other silly, he saw this sight all the time, and there was no reason it should cause him to have a heart attack now.

Fuck, I just… His eyes followed the motion of his boyfriend’s body as he strolled leisurely from the bathroom to his bedroom, taking in every sinewy line greedily. I want to… to do things to him, damnit! Why is this still so hard?

He slumped forward in his seat after Saruhiko had passed, letting out a sharp, frustrated breath and resisting the urge to take a faceplant into his food. This was seriously aggravating – they’d been dating for a goddamn year, even if he didn’t remember all of it; when did all of this stupid stuff become easy?

With his luck, probably never.

It was only a minute or so later when Saruhiko re-emerged from his room, in a T-shirt and shorts, his damp hair hanging flat around his head. He raised an eyebrow when he took in the two plates laid out on the table. “Since when do you serve takeout?”

“Since now, okay?” Yata scowled back, too wound up to let that pass. “Are you going to eat it, or do you just want to stand there and make snarky comments?”

Saruhiko clicked his tongue, frowning right back, but he moved in and sat down just the same. “Are you going to tell me what’s bothering you, or am I supposed to guess?”

It was a fair enough question, but it still caught him off-guard somehow. Yata turned his gaze off to the side, embarrassment and awkwardness warring for dominance in his brain. “It’s – ” He glanced up again, caught his boyfriend’s familiar half-bored frown, and completely lost whatever nerve he’d summoned up. “I’ll tell you after dinner,” he muttered instead, feeling his cheeks burn as he turned a scowl down at his food.

He could feel Saruhiko’s eyes on him, sharp as ever, but there was no comment.

This stupid ‘relationship’ business is so fucking overrated. You could go through hell and back with someone, tell them you love them, confess your deepest fears… and still, somehow, asking to do something specific in the goddamn bedroom was awkward.

It was so not fair.

They ate in a kind of half-wary silence, which Yata was too frustrated and preoccupied to try and break. Across from him, Saruhiko ate slowly – the only sign that he wasn’t completely unconcerned was the barely visible tension in his shoulders.

That was enough to stir up an unwanted little spark of guilt. Yata half-heartedly shoveled some of the food into his mouth, eyeing his boyfriend in what he hoped was a not-very-noticeable manner. The T-shirt had a loose neckline, and strands of damp hair were clinging to his skin, so there were a few beads of water trickling down along the line of his neck and collecting somewhere along his collarbone. For a moment, that was mesmerizing enough to capture Yata’s full attention; he followed the slow slide of one particular drop down, losing his earlier train of thought entirely.

He’d done something like it before, so it was easy to imagine now: leaning forward and running his tongue up over that warm skin, feeling it shift and relax under his attention. And maybe Saruhiko would let out one of those shuddering sighs and melt against him, and –

“I’m done.”

Yata blinked several times in rapid succession, startled out of his fantasy by the bland announcement – and the shift in his visual as Saruhiko moved to stand up from the table, taking his half-empty plate with him.

Shit – how long was I – ? It was almost too embarrassing to finish the thought. Yata snatched up his own plate and followed his boyfriend into the kitchen, a little flustered at how easily he’d lost focus. That dream was still messing with him – he was sure of it. The thought of Saruhiko underneath him, responding to his touch with squirming and little sounds of pleasure, like he just couldn’t help himself…


Was he seriously the only one who had this problem? Yata frowned at Saruhiko’s back as he washed off his dish in the sink, feeling more than a little self-conscious about it. Somehow, it always seemed like Saruhiko had perfect control – but then, he’d always been like that. Was it because he didn’t think about sex as much as Yata? He always seemed more than eager when they did it, even initiated things a lot of the time, but he never had those moments when he zoned out, either.

Fucking asshole and his self-control… For once, he would’ve liked to know exactly what his boyfriend was thinking. Unfortunately, that was probably an impossible dream. Goddamnit

“I’m going to go read in my room.” Saruhiko slid the dish into the rack and turned without looking back. His voice was neutral and even.

It didn’t take a genius to catch the meaning there – Yata grimaced, fingers tightening around the plate in his hands. Shit.

He’d barely felt the first little twinge of frustration when Saruhiko halted, not quite out of the kitchen, and added, in a soft, reluctant mutter, “I’ll leave the door open.”

It wasn’t much of a concession, but – well – considering who it was coming from…

Somehow, it did a lot to restore his courage.

Without stopping to think it over – seriously, thinking was overrated; wasn’t that what had gotten him into this mess in the first place? – Yata dropped his plate in the sink, strode forward, and caught the back of his boyfriend’s shirt. “Wait.”

The body in front of him stilled. Misaki?”

Screw it.

He leaned his forehead against Saruhiko’s shoulder, wrapping both arms around that slender waist, and managed to mutter, “I just,” before his throat closed up. He cleared it, and pressed on before he could lose his nerve again, blurting the rest in a rush. “I just really want to fuck you right now, all right?”

There was a moment of startled silence, and Yata found himself holding his breath, bracing himself for… what? He wasn’t sure. Mockery? Reluctance? Instant and complete denial?

“Ah.” He could feel the muscles near his face relax. “All right.”

That was it? ‘All right’? Yata let out his breath in a rush, too surprised to let it properly sink in. “Seriously?”

Saruhiko clicked his tongue. “What nonsense have you got yourself all worked up over this time, Misaki?” He slid a hand along Yata’s arm, letting his fingers trail around the wrist before brushing up lightly along the ridge of knuckles. “You know it’s not the first time.”

“Yeah, I know, just…” His worries seemed kind of silly now. Yata leaned in to press against his boyfriend’s back, feeling the heat building between them. “This is all really awkward, okay?”

He got a dismissive snort in response to that. “You’re the one who’s really awkward.”

“Shut up.” It was starting to hit him that this was really going to happen – he was going to get to have his way with Saruhiko now, just like in his dream. Yata felt his heart rate increase, and slid his head down to mouth at the prominent line of shoulder blade through the thin fabric of the shirt between them. “Let’s go to your room.”

“Impatient as ever.” The light, easy tone was countered by the hot, lidded gaze that came with it as Saruhiko pulled forward and turned to face him. “Well, I guess that’s part of your charm, isn’t it, Misaki?”

It was hard to tell if it was supposed to be a compliment when he put it like that. Well, whatever. Yata let his mouth curve up into a smirk, meeting his boyfriend’s gaze with equal heat. “Can’t help it with you,” he admitted, voice low.

The desire that flooded those cool blue eyes in response pretty much made up for the rest of the evening to that point.



Shaking off his earlier paralysis, Yata slid his hand from Saruhiko’s mouth,  bracing it between his head and the pillow instead and leaning down to capture his boyfriend’s lips in an insistent kiss. I’m like this because of you, he wanted to say, aggressively engaging his tongue and feeling another little spike of desire as he was matched with at least equal intensity. I want you so bad – you can feel it, right?

“Mm.” Saruhiko hummed against his lips, eyes half-closed as he mumbled out, “You’re… eager tonight, Misaki.” That breathy edge that Yata had come to expect in the heat of the moment was in his voice.

It was a turn-on – like everything else, at that point. “I’ve been,” Yata started, and then was interrupted by a startled moan as Saruhiko’s hands slid past the waistband of his boxers, pulling him down flush against the body beneath him and giving his ass a firm squeeze. “Ah – thinking about it. All day.”

“Mm.” There was an unmistakably pleased note in the sigh that came as Yata began nipping and sucking his way down that pale-skinned neck. Sometimes he had to wonder if they didn’t share the same intense desire to be lusted after. “Another dream?”

He was getting the sense that it was time to step this up – although he couldn’t have said where that thought came from. Impressions from his still-clouded memories, maybe? “Yeah,” he breathed out against the curve of shoulder beneath his lips, and slid the tips of his fingers along and just under the elastic of his boyfriend’s underwear, drawing out a shiver of anticipation. It only took a small motion from his hips to rub their clothed erections together, and the sharp intake of breath he got in response was enough to trigger a low moan from the back of his throat. “Fuck, Saru… Can I… ?”

Saruhiko’s slender fingers pulled back and curled around the waistband of his boxers; Yata backed off a ways to allow him to shimmy them down over his cock. “You know where the lube is,” he murmured in response to the half-voiced question, and offered a slow, lazy smirk.

It was probably the fastest Yata had ever fumbled a drawer open in his life.

He was pretty sure it was mostly excitement causing his hands to tremble when he slid the condom on, although there was probably more than a small amount of nervousness mixed in. Saruhiko made one of those little sounds that he remembered from his dream when he pushed a slicked finger in past the ring of muscle, and that, combined with the tight heat that closed around it when he slowly moved deeper, had his dick twitching impatiently.

Yata swallowed, glancing up at his boyfriend’s flushed face. “This okay?”

“Aren’t you – ah – the impatient one here?” Saruhiko squirmed as he curled his finger experimentally, but met his gaze with a kind of heated condescension. “Just keep going.”

He took in a sharp breath at that, pulling back. “Don’t forget that you asked for it.”

Having been through it himself helped, honestly; Yata was pretty familiar with the strangeness and the stretch, and it gave him more confidence when he pushed in again with two fingers, sliding them in deep and scissoring while Saruhiko tensed and then adjusted. The glimpses he was stealing of his boyfriend’s face and body as they reacted to him weren’t helping at all to ease the pull of his own desire, but he just couldn’t help himself.

He’s so goddamn sexy…

“It’s… good already, Misaki,” Saruhiko said breathily, shortly after he’d eased three fingers in. “Do it.”

Yata wasn’t about to argue with that; he slid his fingers out and spread a generous amount of lube over the condom, shutting his eyes for a moment against the little spike of pleasure that came when he closed his hand around himself. “Just – tell me if it hurts,” he managed, moving forward to position himself with one hand while bracing the other against the inside of his boyfriend’s thigh.

“Yeah.” It sounded more than a little flippant; though, to be fair, Yata definitely hadn’t ever bothered to say anything when he was the one on his back. There was something about being too turned on to care about low-level pain that made it almost erotic, in a weird way.

Seriously, he couldn’t wait to see what Saruhiko looked like when he felt it.

With that thought fresh in his mind, Yata pushed in, going slow through the initial resistance and shutting his eyes against the rush of sensation as the tight heat of his boyfriend’s body closed around his cock. For a moment, it was so good he could hardly think, and he had to bite down hard on his lower lip to avoid the strong urge to thrust forward and race to early completion.

It’s like he’s pulling me in. “Fuck,” he managed to gasp, tightening his grip on Saruhiko’s leg reflexively. “Fuck… Saru…”

Misaki…” There was a bit of a whine in that response; Yata opened his eyes and looked up without thinking, taking in the sight he’d been waiting for. Saruhiko’s eyes were closed, lips parted, flush spread all across his face and even to his ears. His shoulders were tense, and his fingers clenched in the sheets.

Hot as hell. “Saru,” Yata breathed out again, leaning in further as he buried himself in that welcoming heat. It felt really, really good – holy shit. And the look on that face

He wanted more. Way more. “I’m – I’m going to move. Okay?”

Saruhiko’s eyes opened just a fraction at that, and he met Yata’s gaze squarely. “You don’t… have to keep asking.”

“Hah.” It came out as more of a reverential exhalation than a properly snarky response – but at that point, it really didn’t matter. He planted an impulsive but lingering kiss on his boyfriend’s knee, and let the corners of his mouth edge up in a small smirk. “Okay.”

The first retreat and thrust had them both gasping at the initial spike, but the motions were familiar enough, lack of conscious memory or no, and the steady, give-and-take rhythm of sex came more easily as he moved. The result of a lot of practice, Yata noted vaguely, focused on keeping himself controlled as he changed the angle in search of the magic spot that would give him the reaction he was after. He brushed a hand over Saruhiko’s cock in a light parody of a hand job, watching with heated fascination as his boyfriend writhed in response, letting out an erotic little moan.

It was getting harder to hold himself back; the dual impact of visual and physical stimulation was fraying at the edges of Yata’s self-control. He wanted – really wanted – to thrust in hard and fast, bury himself to the hilt in Saruhiko’s body and come – but even as it became harder to hold onto rational thought, one thing still rang clearly through his head: he wanted to see all of it. Everything.

I can’t ever get enough of him.

The thought had barely entered his head when he finally found the right spot, with one of Saruhiko’s knees hooked loosely over his shoulder and the other leg pushed up a little higher under Yata’s lube-slicked right hand. The results were immediate and electrifying; Saruhiko let out an inarticulate noise and arched up from the bed, twisting the sheets hard in his hands as his face contorted.

MiMisaki… there… ah…”

That was enough to tip Yata over his breaking point; the site of that familiar face with such a desperate, wanton expression, eyes half-lidded and needy as they locked with his, was too much for his frazzled brain. “Saru,” he gritted out, fighting the urge to shut his eyes as he thrust in hard, the edges of his vision blurring out as pleasure clouded his senses.

Even with that, it only took a few of those rough, frenzied motions before Saruhiko tensed up beneath him and came with a strangled-sounding cry, his whole body twitching against and around Yata, face red, mouth open, eyes dark and clouded. And with all of that stimulation, Yata’s own race towards orgasm ended abruptly with one last, frantic push; the world fractured around him and he shuddered, releasing within Saruhiko’s body and trembling violently in the wake of that rush.

The moment of stillness that followed was broken by the uneven sound of both of them trying to catch their breath.

Rational thought started to drift back into his brain at about the same point when Yata felt the sweat cooling his body. He pulled back on habit, and just barely remembered to catch the edges of the condom as he did, so he could tie it off and toss it into the bin near the bed. Beneath him, Saruhiko seemed to have become about as boneless as Yata felt; his legs slid back down against the bed as soon as he was released, and he was breathing heavily, eyes closed, the hint of a little smile playing on his lips.

It was an endearing look – although Yata was starting to suspect that he had a pretty strong bias on that front. “Was that… ?” He let that hang, flopping down on the bed beside his boyfriend, and reaching out with one hand to absently brush those sweaty dark bangs off his face. “It was good, right?”

Saruhiko’s lids lifted about halfway, and he regarded Yata with a kind of satiated exasperation. One of his hands ran lazily over the mess on his stomach; he raised his fingers and shifted his gaze to them, then back again. “I think this speaks for itself, don’t you?”

His post-orgasm haze was too good for that to spark any irritation. Yata smiled back instead, feeling more than a little pleased with himself. “Just checking.”

He got an amused-sounding hum as his response. “And how did that match up with your dream?” Saruhiko murmured, reaching out with his free hand to brush his knuckles lightly along Yata’s cheekbone.

“The usual.” He caught those fingers in his own, and shut his eyes, contentment settling over him like a warm blanket. “Way fucking better.”

There was just no substitute for the real thing, after all.



The End