More Like Two Days


Chapter Two


There was a nervous tension building in the pit of Yata’s stomach, starting when he’d received the text from Saruhiko to say he was on the way – hell, from before that even; he wasn’t sure exactly when it had started. But it was getting steadily worse, even as he felt the now-familiar flutter of his heart when Saruhiko stepped into Homra and their eyes met. It wasn’t like he was faking his smiles or enthusiasm. He was excited. This was a big fucking deal, after all.

Plus, seeing Saruhiko in general still kinda did that to him. They saw each other every day, but…

Whatever, it’s normal when you’re going out, right?

Still, he’d never been quite this hyper-aware before. It wasn’t exactly bad, but it was kinda nerve-wracking. The bus hadn’t been crowded so they’d sat next to each other, each taking one of the earphones Saruhiko had bought a week or so ago and listening to the playlist Yata had put together on his phone with some of their mutual favorites. Their fingers had brushed on the seat twice before Yata couldn’t take it anymore and moved to twine them together. He was sure he’d been about five shades of red when Saruhiko shot him that endearingly startled look, but it was worth it for the tiny, bemused smile and the tentative pressure of fingers closing against his.

Fuck, if they hadn’t been in public, he’d have gone for the kiss too. He was way too keyed up.

Was the bus ride always this long, or what?

They broke apart mutually when leaving the bus but kept the hands closest to each other free while walking the short half-block to Saruhiko’s apartment complex. Yata had a grocery bag in his other hand – pretty much required, considering the sad state of the food situation there, which amounted to basically meal replacement shakes, energy drinks, and protein bars, with the occasional bottle of artificially flavored juice to spice things up. On the few occasions they spent the night here instead of at his place, he made it a point to provide ingredients for a home-cooked meal or two.

Honestly, Saruhiko’s apartment was a little on the depressing side in general. It felt so empty. Neither of them had much stuff, but somehow Yata’s apartment managed to feel like something of a home, while Saruhiko’s was just… a place to keep things. And sleep.

It was hard to explain, but it gave Yata that burning feeling in his chest – like he really needed to take action and just… fix this. Or something. That was kinda the reason he’d thought about bringing up the whole ‘moving in together’ thing.

We never actually talked about that, huh?

Well, it wasn’t like it couldn’t wait. They had other shit to deal with right then, anyway.

“Here.” Saruhiko shifted his own bag – the one Yata hadn’t asked about, since he already had a sneaking suspicion what kinda stuff was in it – to unlock the door to his apartment, and then pulled it open so they could pass through. “Welcome. I guess.”

He couldn’t help but grin at that. Not like they really needed much ceremony these days. “Right, thanks.”

They shuffled around each other in the familiar motions: removing their shoes – well, boots in Saruhiko’s case – and setting aside the stuff they were carrying. Yata had only brought food with him; he still had a couple pairs of underwear and some shirts here, along with a spare toothbrush – anything else probably didn’t matter much. He put the eggs, butter, milk and pineapple in the fridge and then frowned at it for a second, at a loss.

The air felt charged, but he wasn’t sure how to direct that energy. His skin was still prickled up, and he had a nervous lump at the pit of his stomach, but mostly, he felt that aimless drive to do something. Anything.

Well, okay, not just anything. He wanted to kiss Saruhiko. His heart was pounding, his lips tingled with imagined sensation, and his fingers felt strangely itchy. He wanted to run them along Saruhiko’s hips and back – clench them in his hair – cup them against his face. There was the beginning of an ache stirring to life in his lower body; the combination of the day’s anticipation and the knowledge that they were alone mixed up into a tense, half-formed arousal.

It was like his body was already there. Go on, it seemed to urge him. What are you waiting for? Let’s do this!

Fuck, if all they were doing was the usual, he’d have been all over it already – it was only this new stuff that was making things weird. Yata forced himself to turn, taking in Saruhiko’s profile. From his hunched shoulders to the tiny frown on his lips as he stared with dull eyes at his own apartment, it was clear that he was also feeling the strained mood. The little bag he’d brought still dangled from his long fingers.

Both of us are like this, huh? How lame.

Well, it was probably up to him to make the first move considering who he was dealing with. Yata thought back to that stupid text message about pity and couldn’t help the rueful grin that spread on his face. Seriously, you dumbass. Drawing in a breath, he moved to cross the short space between them. “Saruhiko.”

His boyfriend’s head turned immediately, but Yata didn’t give him time to get his bearings, reaching out to grasp the front of his work vest and tug him forward. “Misaki…?” Saruhiko murmured with a note of mild surprise, just seconds before Yata leaned up and caught his lips.

It might have been a bit too forceful; he was still kinda nervous, honestly. But after that moment of hesitation, Saruhiko relaxed, melting into the kiss. His free hand crept up around Yata’s shoulder to pull him in closer, and Yata obliged him, his own hands reaching for Saruhiko’s hips to draw their bodies into contact. The familiar blend of touch and warmth and Saruhiko’s scent assaulted his senses, sending his heart into a frenzy.

He broke apart just long enough to murmur, “Let’s do this,” into his boyfriend’s mouth, and felt the familiar shivery ache stir to life in his lower body at the low hum that seemed to vibrate against his lips in response. The slick heat of Saruhiko’s tongue teased his bottom lip, and he opened up without hesitation to engage it, fingers clenching automatically against the fabric beneath them as his body recognized and responded to the signals that there was pleasure coming soon.

The hand braced on his back slid up to the back of his neck, prompting a shiver at the touch of skin on skin before there were fingers in his hair, gently tipping his head back as their kiss deepened, supporting and holding him in place.

The slide of lips and tongue was starting to cloud his thoughts. Yata felt his cock stir in his pants and impulsively slid his hands down along the firm plane of Saruhiko’s ass, hips moving in an instinctive thrust forward. He groaned a little at the distinct press of a half-formed erection against his own, the little twinge of sensation at the contact fueling the lustful haze fogging his brain.

Yeah… yeah, like that… more of that…

Saruhiko ground back against him once, slow and hard, drawing another pleased noise out of Yata’s throat, before stilling. He disengaged from the kiss, firmly leaning his head down to press their foreheads together and forestalling any instinctive effort to chase after his lips. “Misaki,” he breathed out, low and affected, and when Yata opened his eyes, he was treated to the sight of his boyfriend’s intense gaze from close range, long lashes creating a frame and pupils blown wide. He was flushed and breathing erratically.

Yata’s heart felt like it had leapt up into his throat. Fuck. He swallowed, feeling his dick give another little pleasant tug at the sight.

Couldn’t help it. Saruhiko did this to him every time. He could barely control himself.

Hell, half the time he didn’t bother trying.

Still, he wasn’t gonna give in to temptation when he’d made up his mind. Yata sucked in a breath, drawing up his determination. After all that hassle, they were definitely fucking doing this!

He took a small step backwards, dislodging the hand in his hair and sliding his own hands free so that he could reach up to grasp it firmly. “C’mon,” he urged, the corners of his mouth quirking up almost anxiously. His voice came out sounding odd – hoarse and lower than usual – but he ignored it, stepping back once more in the general direction of Saruhiko’s bed. As he tugged on that slender hand, his boyfriend followed obligingly, his gaze never once leaving Yata’s face.

It wasn’t helping his nerves any, but it was sure doing wonders for the erection pressing up against the zipper of his shorts. Yata resisted the urge to reach down and adjust himself, enjoying the pleasant ache of arousal.

Fuck, if it was them doing this, he was sure it was gonna feel good. No matter what.

The mood was jarred when his leg bumped up against the mattress. Right, the bed… Yata faltered for a second, caught without a plan for the next step. Shit. Now what?

Saruhiko picked up his slack this time, stepping in to close the distance between them and tossing his little bag onto the bed. “We don’t have to do it tonight, you know,” he mumbled, fingers curling around Yata’s.

Really? This again? Yata shook his head. “Shut up with that already, dumbass – I told you I wanna do it.” He turned a brash grin up at Saruhiko’s face, mingled excitement and nerves churning around behind it. “So let’s fucking do it already!”

Saruhiko’s fingers tightened against his almost painfully. It was kinda satisfying. Those long lashes lowered slowly, and the corners of those thin lips quirked a little. “So romantic.”

Yata huffed a little at that, vaguely annoyed. “Yeah, well, you’re the one stopping to ask if I’m sure – I fucking told you already!” He wriggled his fingers until they properly linked with Saruhiko’s and reached up to brush his boyfriend’s face with his free hand. “I’ll tell you if I wanna stop, okay? Trust me!”

Saruhiko’s eyes fluttered open as Yata’s hand passed along his cheek, thumb dragging over the firm line at the top. His skin was so soft… “I want to,” he admitted, voice low, and the muscles in his throat moved noticeably as he swallowed. “Just remember you were the one who said it,” he added in a more normal tone and dipped his head for another kiss.

Yata met him halfway, surging up into it with enthusiasm. He was antsy and keyed up, eager to touch and be touched. Usually by this point they were already halfway to orgasm; the tension in his lower belly and between his legs seemed to be asking what the hell the holdup was. The re-introduction of Saruhiko’s hot, clever mouth against his own sent a spike of pleasant anticipation surging through his body, making him shudder.

It was crazy how easy it was to get worked up when Saruhiko was involved. Almost scary in a way. Even when he was a teenager, he didn’t remember being this goddamn horny all the time.

Whatever. It wasn’t like Saruhiko wasn’t just as into it, lips and tongue moving hungrily against Yata’s, with the obvious jut of his erection between their bodies. Who fucking cares?

They broke apart seconds later – mutually but with reluctance, the shared awareness of what needed to happen next spreading as thickly between them as their mingled breathing.

Right. That.

After a lengthy moment of silence, Yata ventured with, “Guess we should, y’know, take off our clothes. Right?”

“Mm.” Saruhiko’s eyes opened partway, regarding him heatedly. One thin eyebrow arched. “You guess?”

“Yeah, yeah – shut up.” Fuck, this still felt awkward. Yata eased back, feeling the cold rush in to greet him with the warmth of Saruhiko’s body gone, and offered a grin that was partly fond and partly spawned from bravado to cover the anxious lump in his stomach. “You know what I mean.”

“I pieced it together somehow,” Saruhiko murmured back. His lips quirked, but he didn’t quite smile, and after a brief moment of hesitation, he took a half step back out of Yata’s personal space, reaching up to begin undoing the buttons on his vest.

Yata swallowed without thinking, his eyes momentarily caught on the motions of those deft, slender fingers before he snapped himself out of it and reached for the hem of his own shirt to lift it over his head.

They’d seen each other shirtless before. Sorta. When they fucked – assuming handjobs and grinding counted as ‘fucking’ – it had always been in a hurry, not bothering to remove shirts or even fully kick off their pants half the time. He’d seen Saruhiko’s bare chest and back when cleaning up or changing, but they’d never kissed like that, much less… anything else.

His boyfriend’s dick had been in his hand and he’d had Saruhiko’s come on his chest, but they’d never fucking kissed without shirts on. What the actual fuck?

Doesn’t matter. Yata pushed that thought aside as he pulled off his shirt and tossed it aside carelessly, the tank top beneath it meeting the same fate shortly after. He resisted the urge to check on Saruhiko, unbuttoning the fly on his shorts and easing the zipper down over the hard lump in his underwear before dropping them over his hips and past his knees, stepping out and kicking them aside.

He had another moment of paralyzing doubt at that point, standing there in just his socks and underwear, and risked a glance to check where Saruhiko was at.

The final button of his boyfriend’s work shirt was just being undone in that moment; as Yata watched, Saruhiko shrugged his arms out of the sleeves one by one. His already pale skin looked even paler in the apartment’s shitty lighting, the sleek lines of wiry muscle standing out as shadows dipped into the contours of his body.

That sight made Yata’s fingers itch; he swallowed, curling them at his sides.

He’s so…

“Are you waiting for me to give you a show?” Saruhiko’s soft drawl had him jerking his gaze back up – he got two raised eyebrows that time. “You’re staring.”

Yata felt his face start to burn. “Wh-what the hell? That’s normal, you jerk! You’re my – my boyfriend, goddamn it, and you’re getting n-naked! Of course I’m gonna stare!”

“I guess.” There was still a hint of that drawl in the tone; Saruhiko’s head dipped, eyes lowering slowly and deliberately. “Well, it’s the same for me.”

Something like a hot shiver run up his back as he felt that heated gaze. It was strangely energizing. Yata felt the corners of his mouth edge up, eyelids lowering halfway as their eyes met again. “You’ve still got pants on, c’mon.”

The smallest hint of a smile spread on Saruhiko’s lips in response. “You’re not exactly naked yet, either.”

Yata shot him a mildly exasperated look. “I’m not standing around with my dick out waiting for you to take your goddamn pants off, okay? Just do it.”

“Ah.” Saruhiko’s lashes lowered over his eyes, smile tipping up a bit more. He reached down and undid the fly of his pants, before grabbing hold of both them and the waistband of his underwear and pulling both carefully down over the hard bulge at his crotch, baring it in one motion.

Yata stared, momentarily struck speechless.

“So?” Saruhiko’s voice had lowered to a murmur, as if less certain than before. “Satisfied?”

Regaining the use of his motor skills, Yata reached down immediately to hastily rid himself of his underwear. He caught the bead of moisture that had been pooling at the tip of his cock with his thumb as he did and had to bite back a gasp at the rush of sensation. Fuck.

“Misaki…” If anything, Saruhiko’s voice was more unsteady than it had been; Yata kicked his underwear and socks the rest of the way off and then straightened, reaching out for his boyfriend without thinking and getting a rush of gratification as they came together with mutual desperation.

It was a different experience, kissing without clothing on. Despite all the things they’d done to that point, the warm, smooth contours of Saruhiko’s body and the feel of hands against his own skin had heat climbing up along Yata’s neck in a blend of embarrassment and desire. It was intimate – even vulnerable. As they drew together and their dicks brushed, hot and hard and without any kind of barrier, his skin prickled up and he couldn’t help but groan. Saruhiko shuddered in response, and Yata swallowed his little answering whimper, the vibration and timbre of it setting off sparks all through his body.

He was fully hard by then and the feel of Saruhiko’s mouth opening against his, hot and demanding, felt like it was setting him on fire. Yata was about ready to explode, rational thought fading off into a foggy haze as he processed the warm press of a body against his – the firm lines of Saruhiko’s back and hips under his hands – the slide of clever fingers against his sides, tracing his ribcage. He wanted to touch every inch of skin he could find. More than that, he wanted to grind against Saruhiko until he came. His hips rocked forward unconsciously, fingers pressing into the jut of hipbone as sensation shivered through him.

So fucking good…

Saruhiko broke the kiss after another clumsy attempt on Yata’s end to grind up against him. “Misaki,” he mumbled again, voice low and tense, “lie down.”

It took a second to process that through the lusty fog that had settled on his brain. Right – there was a goal here, other than just orgasm. “… Got it.” Yata let out a shaky breath, trying to cool his head as he eased back out of Saruhiko’s hold again and dropped heavily onto the bed, shifting up and over to make room.

The bag that Saruhiko had brought along was still lying there, and Yata finally got a look at the contents: a thin bottle of… something, he couldn’t see, and a box of condoms.

Right, so pretty much what I figured, huh?

Saruhiko climbed onto the bed after him before he could think too much, and Yata bent his knees and scooted again to make room, feeling a bit weird about it as he propped himself up on his elbows and stared back up. He didn’t really mind the position, but lying on the bed naked – with his equally naked boyfriend above him – kinda made things strike home a little more.

They were really fucking doing this. Okay… Okay.

Trying to distract himself from the weird mix of lust and anxiety swirling around at the pit of his stomach, Yata turned his attention back to Saruhiko instead. His boyfriend knelt by his feet, his knees casually spread and… well… everything on display. He was really gorgeous, slim and fit like a model, the graceful lines of his body accented by the dark hair that hung softly over his face and the matching patch around the prominent erection standing between his legs. The sight of him made Yata’s throat feel like it was closing up; his own cock gave a little twitch of interest, a tiny bit of warm moisture leaking from the tip.

Saruhiko seemed to notice that he was being watched; he raised his gaze as soon as he’d adjusted his glasses, and their eyes met. If anything, the blend of nerves and excitement in Yata’s belly increased, and a small, anxious grin tugged upward on his lips. He couldn’t help it. Fuck.

There was a moment of hesitation – a little hint of something wary in Saruhiko’s eyes. He opened his mouth as if to voice it, paused, and then shut it again, closing his eyes momentarily and pulling in a long breath. When he opened them again, he smiled back, soft and faint and rueful, and then bent forward to brace his hands on either side of Yata’s shoulders.

Somehow, it was kinda obvious what he’d been about to say – or rather, to ask. Yata let his knees tip out to either side, instinctively accommodating, and reached up to cup the side of Saruhiko’s face. The skin felt soft and warm under his fingers; as he stroked his thumb along the line of his boyfriend’s cheekbone, Saruhiko let his eyelids droop and fixed Yata with a heated look through his lashes.

Shit. “You’re fucking hot,” he mumbled without thinking, and then immediately stiffened, caught up in fierce embarrassment at having actually said the words out loud. “I-I mean…”

Saruhiko blinked at him, looking endearingly startled for a second. A little hint of something like confusion or bewilderment settled in his eyes. “You’re biased,” he mumbled back, lips turning down into a little frown as he turned his gaze aside.

Yata felt the warmth under his fingers before he noticed the red on Saruhiko’s cheeks. Seriously? “What, no one’s ever said it before?” He grinned back lazily when that cool gaze shifted back to meet his again, raising his other hand and using both to carefully unhook the frames of Saruhiko’s glasses from around his ears so he could slide them off and set them to the side. It earned him several rapid-fire blinks but no sign of a protest. “S’true.” Somehow, the reaction emboldened him; he felt confident enough to add, “When I first saw you, I kinda thought you looked like a model or something. All… y’know, beautiful like that.” Despite everything, saying it out loud still made him blush. “Too bad your attitude totally wrecks the image,” he tossed out hastily.

Strangely, the last bit seemed to soften the guarded look in Saruhiko’s eyes; the change was easier to see without the shield of his glasses. He let out a small, amused huff and offered a tiny smirk in response. “Look who’s talking,” he murmured, and added frankly, “The beautiful one is you.”

“Eh?” He hadn’t expected that. Yata blinked, feeling his skin prickle up. “Wait – what? Me?

Not even once did he ever remember anyone using the word ‘beautiful’ to describe him. Hell, the most he’d ever gotten was a female customer he couldn’t even look in the eye who’d giggled something like ‘cute’ as she took her cup from him. He doubted she’d meant that in an ‘I want to date you way’, either. The idea of someone actually thinking he was fucking beautiful was beyond his comprehension.

No way…

Saruhiko raised an eyebrow at him. “What?” he drawled back, and the corners of his mouth edged up a little further, eyes going lidded again. It was a different sight somehow without the glasses, but no less sexy. “No one’s ever said it before?” The repeat of his own words hadn’t quite sunk into Yata’s brain when Saruhiko slid his hands up on the mattress, bracing himself on his elbows instead so that their faces were bare inches apart.  “You’re really something,” he mumbled, almost as if to himself. “How vibrant you are – it’s like I can’t look away from you sometimes. Everything about you…” There was a pause, as if he struggled for words; his voice was even lower when he spoke again. “… I can’t ever get enough.”

It was like those words were fire coursing through his veins. Yata reached up again with both hands, sliding them into Saruhiko’s hair. “Me too,” he responded, voice rough, and tugged insistently, raising his head at the same moment to bring their mouths together.

The kiss was fierce, a little desperate and clumsy but forceful enough to be satisfying. Yata allowed himself to get carried away in the feeling, fingers clenching in the soft strands of dark hair as his head was pressed into the mattress roughly, lips and tongues mingling in a kind of frenzied heat.

The rush was starting to get to him again when Saruhiko pulled back, separating their mouths with obvious reluctance. His breathing was ragged, causing their chests to brush in uneven rhythm as they fought to collect themselves.

Something about those simple motions sent a shiver through Yata’s body. He eased his grip, allowing his boyfriend to pull away and shift back to sit up on his knees again, and then let out a long breath, recovering himself again. His lower abdomen was tense from the ache in his crotch with all the teasing. “Fuck,” he expelled with feeling.

Saruhiko retrieved the bottle from his discarded bag, turning in time to raise an eyebrow. “That’s the idea.” He looked about as ready as Yata felt – face flushed, lips swollen, eyes dark with desire. It was a heady sight; another little spike of pleasure jarred up from Yata’s dick as he took it in. He had to bite his lip, clenching his fingers in the sheets against the urge to reach down and stroke himself to a hasty climax.

Seriously, he’d never been so turned on in his life. “Just… get on with it, huh?”

He’d half expected a snarky comeback, but Saruhiko just murmured, “Yeah,” opening the bottle with what looked like unsteady fingers and pouring out a generous portion of lube onto his right hand. He closed his fingers around it, setting the bottle aside to coat them thoroughly, and then leaned forward. “Lift your hips a bit.”

Yata shifted obligingly, the little edge of anxiety drowned out by the more overpowering wave of lust. He didn’t even have it in him to be embarrassed about how exposed he was. “Good?”

“Yeah.” Saruhiko leaned forward, bracing his left hand beside Yata’s hip and reaching down to brush his coated fingers against the base of Yata’s ass.

It was jarring to feel someone prodding around there; Yata tensed momentarily and had to force himself to relax. He remembered how Saruhiko had seemed on the verge of asking something – “Are you sure?” – and openly held himself back. Because he trusts me, like I asked him to.

Given that, it was only fair that he should return that trust.

Saruhiko glanced up, meeting Yata’s gaze. “Ready?”

He managed to summon up a tense grin in response, pushing down his own nervousness. “Hell yeah!”

A very small and noticeably hesitant smile answered him. “Tell me if it’s uncomfortable, okay?”

“Got it.” Yata resisted the urge to snark back, impatience and anxiety churning against the pleasant arousal from earlier. Just fucking do it already!

Saruhiko held his gaze for a second or two longer, as if waiting to see if he’d change his mind, and then turned his eyes down. There was a look of concentration on his face that Yata might’ve thought was a bit funny and cute if he wasn’t distracted by the feel of a slender, slicked finger pushing past the ring of muscle to gain entry to his body.

It was… kinda weird, but honestly not bad. Not exactly sexy or anything, but combined with his erection, it sorta had an erotic feel to it. Intimate, more like.

Also a little embarrassing.

He was still processing that when the finger wriggled a little and then slid back. And then there was no time to really process that move, because Saruhiko was already lining back up again with two fingers.

Okay. It was cool – he had this. Just a little on the nervous side… It helped that Saruhiko was going pretty slow, pausing at every stage so far to make sure there were no protests before going forward. His pace was cautious – Yata might’ve said it was too cautious, except that he kinda appreciated it when it involved stuff poking around up his ass.

Not that he didn’t want to do it – it was just that having some time to adjust was cool. That was it.

Saruhiko’s fingers pushed in past the resistance, and – okay – yeah, that stung a little, but it wasn’t bad. Yata resisted the urge to squirm, knowing it would be taken as a sign of discomfort. He didn’t really want to slow things down any more. Plus, the initial sting was already fading – it was more of a stretch than anything.

“Okay?” Saruhiko asked him, blue eyes sharp. His fingers scissored just a tiny bit, experimentally, and then curled inward.

The hell is he doing? Yata felt his eyebrows furrow as his boyfriend’s fingers probed inside him, gently but firmly curving up towards his balls. “Yeah, but what’re you doing? Don’t just play around in there!”

“I wanted to see if I could reach it,” Saruhiko mumbled in response.

“Huh?” Yata stared at him, more confused than before. “Reach wh – ?”

The rest of that question cut off in a startled and very audible intake of breath as one of the fingers inside him touched against a spot that sent a wave of sensation through his body. Yata pressed his head back hard against the pillow, shuddering all over in immediate response. “Hu… wha… ?”

Saruhiko was staring at him intently, face flushed and lips parted. “That’s it, huh?” he muttered, and his lids lowered into one of those smoldering gazes.

That was all the warning he got. “What the hell are you – ?” Once again, he was cut off, this time by the air leaving his body in a rush, an audible ‘nngh’ escaping through his clenched teeth as pleasure surged up through him, shutting off his thoughts and sending hot shivers along his skin.

It wasn’t like anything he’d felt before. Or, well, it was – it was pleasure, the same kind that would carry him to orgasm – but it was at least ten times as strong as when he jerked himself off. Almost too strong; it verged right on the edge of discomfort, not quite crossing the line but teetering dangerously over it.

In other words, really fucking good. Amazing, even. He couldn’t believe it.

No wonder Eric said all that stuff…

“Does it feel good?” Saruhiko asked him, outside the rush. His voice was low – tense. When Yata turned a blurry gaze up at him, breathing heavily, the blue eyes that returned his stare were even more intent, and dark with want. “Misaki?”

Fuck, don’t say my name in that tone right now… Yata clenched his fingers in the bedcover, fighting for control. “Yeah,” he managed to grit out, beyond caring about the throaty note in his own voice. He really, badly wanted to reach down and jerk himself to a quick orgasm; the combination of Saruhiko’s lewd expression and the sensations in his body were just about driving him insane. “It’s… it’s so good…” He’d never felt this much of a drive for release; hadn’t even known this kind of sexual desperation was possible.

Hell, they weren’t even actually fucking yet!

If anything, Saruhiko’s eyes seemed to darken further. He took in a sharp intake of breath, shutting his eyes briefly, and curled his fingers again, this time wiggling them a bit over that sensitive place.

The resulting rush of stimulation nearly pushed him over the edge right then; Yata’s body jerked, limbs trembling and tense as he panted, a low half-whining moan torn from his throat. There was warm pre-cum leaking from the tip of his dick and he felt hyper-sensitive, little pin-pricks of pleasure seeming to zip through his veins.

I can’t… Fuck…

A low, probably unconscious noise came from his boyfriend, breathy and desperate, and there it was: the breaking point.

“Saruhiko…” That came out as a kind of desperate growl; unable to hold back, Yata reached out with both hands and grasped his boyfriend’s shoulders harshly, pulling him down. The fingers inside him jerked, hitting that spot again, and his grip tightened, a stuttering moan ripping from his throat as pleasure flooded his system. “Sa… Saruhiko…”

“Misaki…” The note of wondering desperation in the low voice that answered him was only feeding into the rush. Saruhiko deliberately pressed his fingers forward again, this time pausing only briefly before repeating the motion, sending jolts of shuddering sensation all the way through Yata’s body with each tiny movement. He moaned without restrain as the pace increased, settling into a kind of erratic rhythm, toes curling and back arching from the bed as his vision blurred out and his mind went blank.

At some point, he’d started pushing back, shifting shamelessly against Saruhiko’s fingers in searching of more stimulation. His fingers were clamped like vises on Saruhiko’s shoulders – it must’ve fucking hurt, but the expression on his boyfriend’s face was still flushed and aroused, gorgeously flustered, as if he didn’t even register the pressure. His fingers were working their way to a frantic pace; at this point, they’d obviously both forgotten the original goal.

Even as that stuff registered in some vague corner of his brain, Yata couldn’t bring himself to care. A familiar, tantalizing tension was building rapidly in his lower body, and all of his senses were focused on that urgent need. He couldn’t even fucking breathe; he wanted to come… fast, hard, now

When orgasm pulsed through him, it was in waves – one sweeping rush of sensation after another, leaving his body stiff and trembling in the wake. Yata cried out, hot pleasure spiking through his dick and balls as he came, spilling over his lower belly in shuddering spurts.

The aftermath lasted longer than usual; as he started to come down, every muscle in his body loosening with that release, there were still twitches of euphoric sensation running through him. Saruhiko’s fingers pulled out of him, prompting a half-pleasant, half-pained jerk. As Yata gazed blurrily up, not quite able to think properly, he was treated to the sight of his boyfriend’s tense, helplessly aroused expression.

Saruhiko’s lips were parted, face red, and eyes glazed over; with his gaze fixed desperately on Yata’s face, he took his own dick in hand and began to stroke frantically, leaning in closer and bracing one shaking arm by Yata’s shoulder.

He got only a few precious seconds to process the sight of his boyfriend looming over him, with an erotic expression and erratic breathing as he jerked himself off in helpless need. The motions of his slender fingers working over his cock were sexy as fuck; Yata felt another shudder wrack his slackened body, and then Saruhiko let out a cry, face twisting as his body went rigid. Thick lines of come spilled from the tip of his dick to blend with the mess on Yata’s lower belly.

Fuck… Yata let out the breath he hadn’t realized he was holding as Saruhiko slumped over him, the arm that was propping him up trembling violently as his body relaxed. His eyes were closed and his chest was heaving as he panted, the fingers of his right hand twitching against his softening cock. It only took a second or two for his arm to give out and he slid forward onto his elbow, opening his eyes to stare at Yata with satiated confusion.

For a long moment, they just held it there, breathing slowly evening out as they gazed at each other in mutual post-orgasmic bliss. Then, gradually, rational thought started to seep back in through that euphoric haze.

What… did we just…?

Yata felt the heat clamoring up over his neck and onto his face, not sure if he was more stunned or mortified – or still too fucked out to care about either. It was pretty confusing. Saruhiko looked like a hot mess above him, the flush on his pale face intensifying and a little play of emotion in his eyes reflecting Yata’s own feelings back more clearly than he would’ve expected. After a brief second of clarity, Saruhiko clicked his tongue softly and then dropped over onto his side.

Yata turned his head without thinking to keep their gazes locked, instinctively feeling like he wanted that contact. Despite the embarrassment, there was something deeply satisfying in what they’d just done. He couldn’t help but want to keep up the closeness between them.

He didn’t know what the hell to say, but at least Saruhiko wasn’t turning away from him – even as the silence between them started to stretch out and become awkward, he still watched Yata with guarded eyes, obviously waiting for him to make the first move.

Yeah, thanks for that, asshole. What the hell was the first move supposed to be, even? Yata resisted the urge to scowl, wracking his brain for an answer. The specifics of what had just happened kept playing out through his head again, the half-embarrassed heat on his face and neck intensifying as he thought about it.

It wasn’t bad. Obviously. He’d never had an orgasm like that in his life, and damn, it was good. But they still hadn’t actually fucked, so didn’t that mean this was a failure? Had he wrecked it?

Was it even fucking normal to react like that to just having someone’s fingers up your ass?

Whatever. The awkward silence was starting to get to him. “S-say something already!”

Saruhiko’s eyebrows came down. “You could say something yourself,” he mumbled, lips turning down into a frown. “Why should I have to do it?”

Hah? The hell’s with that?” Yata didn’t bother fighting the scowl that time, staring back with belligerent embarrassment. “You’re the one who – who did all that stuff, f-fooling around like that – ”

Saruhiko clicked his tongue again, sharply. “You’re the one who reacted in that exaggerated way,” he muttered. “What did you expect?”

Who’s fault d’you think that was?” Yata glowered back at him, scowl deepening.

“I was following the instructions I read just fine. Your reactions aren’t normal.”

Instructions? What the hell kind of instructions said to keep poking around in my ass, you fucker?”

“Most of them said virgins don’t usually come from fingering, at least.”

“Who the hell are you calling a virgin, virgin?

For just a beat, they held that contact, indignant and fired up, and then the utter ridiculousness of the conversation struck him, and Yata felt his scowl start to waver, hilarity rushing up fast at the back of his throat, egged on by his frazzled nerves.

In front of his eyes, Saruhiko’s mouth also quirked, and then a split second later they were both laughing, a little desperate but with that rueful edge at the end as the initial burst settled into helpless snickering.

Seriously, what the hell’s with us, anyway?

Yata reached up to swipe at his eyes as the unexpected attack subsided, grinning back at his boyfriend. The tension from before had been effectively shattered, and he felt way more at ease. “We fucked up, huh? Not that it was bad or anything,” he added, as an afterthought.

Saruhiko’s eyes clouded a little. “Wasn’t it?” he murmured.

That again? Yata raised an eyebrow at him, gesturing to the mess on his stomach and chest. “This kinda says something, huh?” he pointed out, and shook his head a little on the pillow. “Yeah, it was good. Weird, but good.” He thought back to that desperate, flushed expression, and the faint prickle of flustered heat spread across his cheeks again. “You – you think so too, right?”

Those long-lashed lids lowered halfway. “Didn’t you already say it? That” – Saruhiko reached out to tap a finger lightly against the bottom edge of Yata’s ribcage – “should say something.”

Right, yeah. Yata felt a little shiver run through him at the reminder, and let his own eyelids go heavy. “You coulda just done it, y’know,” he murmured, smile widening out into something like a smirk. “I mean, f-fuck me.” It was still somehow kind of embarrassing to say it.

Saruhiko clicked his tongue with what seemed like half-hearted exasperation. “I only got two fingers in. Besides, you would’ve been over-sensitive. It wouldn’t have been comfortable. And I didn’t even have a chance to get a condom ready.”

The series of muttered reasoning was pretty revealing. Yata caught the unspoken addition. And you wouldn’t have lasted long, huh? Sometimes he thought Saruhiko had even more pride than he did. “Yeah, yeah, I get it.” Well, doesn’t matter. “Anyway, next time, right?”

That earned him another of those wary looks. “If you say so.”

“Heh.” Yata grinned back, feeling more confident, and reached down to grasp the hand still lingering near his chest, not minding the slickness as he wrapped those slender fingers in his. “You still wanna do it, don’t you? Let’s give it another go tomorrow!” The memory of how it had felt with just Saruhiko’s fingers inside him was enough to stir up genuine enthusiasm. “Hell, if it’s like that just from this, it’s gotta be awesome going all the way, right?”

Saruhiko blinked at him, momentarily taken aback, and then his expression softened again. “I guess.” His fingers tightened around Yata’s. “We’ll find out sooner or later, anyway.”

“Right?” That familiar squirming excitement stirred in his belly at the gesture. It was maybe kinda dumb, but Saruhiko always affected him like that. Yata felt his grin widening again almost helplessly, and impulsively pushed forward with, “Hey, think your bathroom could fit us both for washing up?”

Again, kinda stupid, but he didn’t feel like letting go just yet.

He got a raised eyebrow for his trouble. “Probably not,” Saruhiko responded drily. He paused just long enough for Yata to deflate a little, and then his lips quirked in a lazy smirk. “Let’s try it anyway.”

For a moment, Yata could only stare in response. Then he let out a rueful huff of breath, shaking his head as much as the pillow allowed. “You asshole.” When he raised his eyes again to make contact, though, he felt content. “All right, let’s do it!”




The bathroom did not fit them both – at least, not comfortably.

There was no chance in hell that two grown men would fit in that tiny tub, and the washing area could barely accommodate both of them even if one of them stood straight up against the wall, so they ended up taking turns anyway, not quite bold enough to wash each other’s backs but alternately spraying each other with the showerhead in response to a snarky remark here and there. Misaki washed up first – the fact that he’d taken on more of the mess from the evening’s activities made that an easy decision – and then soaked in the tub while Fushimi took his turn on the stool.

Sharing that cramped space would have bothered him any other time, but Fushimi found he didn’t mind the awkward maneuvering so much just then. It had given him more excuses to brush against Misaki’s bare skin, slick with soap and water and warm from both the humidity in that little room and his own natural body heat. The feel of it against Fushimi’s left a pleasant tingle at each incidental brush, effectively distracting him, and so it wasn’t until they’d shifted positions and he was comfortably situated on the stool lathering up that he had a chance to let the results of the evening’s activity really sink in.

There was one small triumph to be found in that failed attempt, after all: he’d somehow managed to make Misaki come just by fingering him. The knowledge sent a tiny shiver through his body, which he tried his best to suppress. Based on everything he’d read, it wasn’t normally that easy. Either his technique was unexpectedly good or Misaki was unexpectedly sensitive, or some combination of the two.

Either way he hadn’t expected it, and he’d already been worked up enough that seeing Misaki in the throes of some kind of intense orgasm had completely unwound the tattered remains of his control. Which was… overwhelming, but he didn’t really mind it. Something about losing control in this sense felt satisfying on a deeper level.

I wasn’t the only one, anyway…

He could still picture it clearly: Misaki’s slight, muscled body writhing on the bed in response to the smallest movement from Fushimi’s fingers. His eyes had been glazed, face flushed and expression tightening with pleasure.

He’d looked… amazing, honestly. Fushimi’s heart started to beat faster just thinking about it.

To be honest, he was sure he could’ve been up for another try even that night – and Misaki probably would’ve gone along with it, if the warm looks he got whenever their eyes met were any indication – but it felt like too much at that point. He needed space to process.

A light touch on his shoulder broke him out of those thought; when he looked up, Misaki was leaning over the edge of the tub, gingerly running a finger along his skin. There was a little frown on his face. “That’s gonna bruise,” he said, voice low and raised his eyes to meet Fushimi’s gaze, clearing his throat with obvious consternation. “Sorry.”

It took a moment to realize what he was talking about. Fushimi turned his head, glancing out of the corner of his eyes at the red on his shoulder left by Misaki’s fingers – there would be a matching mark on the other side, too – and shrugged slightly. “It’s fine. I don’t mind.”

At the time, the pain hadn’t really registered against the arousal. If anything, it had been more of a turn-on; Misaki had a tendency to hold back his strength, so making him lose it to the point of getting rough was a heady feeling. Fushimi allowed himself a small smile, resisting the urge to touch one of the marks himself.

He wasn’t opposed to a visible reminder of how strongly he’d affected Misaki.

If anything, that troubled frown just deepened. “Still…”

“I said it’s fine, right?” Fushimi raised an eyebrow in response, reaching out to prod lightly at the visible dark patch on Misaki’s neck. “Think of it as revenge if it makes you feel better.”

Misaki blinked, momentarily startled, and then his cheeks colored noticeably, even against the natural flush from the bath. It was fascinating to watch. “R-right, yeah.” He reached up to roughly grasp Fushimi’s hand, meeting his gaze with bold – if flustered – determination. “Still gonna repay that properly someday, just wait!”

“Mm.” That was a promising thought. Fushimi smirked in response, letting his eyelids go heavy without thinking about it. “I’ll look forward to it, then.”

Watching the heat flood Misaki’s striking eyes in response was immensely gratifying.

Despite the awkwardness, they finished with the bath in relatively short order, with Misaki toweling off just outside as Fushimi took his turn to soak and then sitting comfortably on the bed running Apocalypse Bunker on his phone and rambling off a running commentary while Fushimi dried and dressed in turn. They continued the game just long enough for their hair to dry, side by side against the headboard in a position that reminded him of the first time they’d played in that cellar, and then called it a night.

Misaki kissed him before they’d settled under the covers, the way he always did when they were about to sleep. It was a habit that Fushimi had picked up on but not bothered to mention – he wasn’t even sure if Misaki was conscious of it, and he’d probably deny it vehemently either way if it was brought up.

Well, it’s not like I mind. There was something comforting about that warm, casually affectionate press of lips on his. The constancy of it being a regular thing made it feel somehow… welcoming. Familiar. Like what he imagined the word ‘home’ was meant to express.

Home. There was still that to think about too…

Another time, though. Fushimi lay on his side on the double bed and watched Misaki’s sleepy smile through lidded eyes until his expression softened and his breathing evened out, and then let himself relax against the pull of sleep as well.