Saturday morning was busy, which was kind of a curse and a blessing as far as Yata was concerned. A blessing because being busy kept his mind off of things, and a curse because he didn’t have a goddamn second to stop and think.
They’d woken up to the alarm that morning, so there hadn’t been time to do much more than exchange a few kisses and some conversation over the breakfast table. Still, there was something comforting about those simple things. Yata hadn’t been unhappy living by himself – he had a busy life and plenty to occupy him outside of his home – but having Saruhiko there made him happier than he’d expected. It was kinda gratifying to have someone to eat with, someone to talk to… someone to wake up and see first thing.
If he was being honest, that was probably another part of his reasoning for wanting to move in together. Maybe it was a bit selfish, but he liked the company. It was as much about having someone to be a home for him as it was being a home for someone else. He couldn’t help but yearn for both sides of that.
Well, no guarantees he’ll go for it. Saruhiko was the kind of person to get stubborn about his space. But if he planted the idea now, they could talk about it. Eventually Yata was pretty sure he’d get somewhere. He just had to be patient. Or something.
No point thinking about it now anyway. There was still that night to think about.
That night… Just thinking about it made his fingers tremble. He couldn’t help it. It was so –
“Orders up, Yata-san!” Bandou called, interrupting that thought.
Yata gave himself a mental shake, reaching for his board again. No time for that, c’mon. “Got it! I’m heading out!”
The morning and noon rushes ended up blending together, so it was early afternoon by the time things started to die down and they were able to breathe a little. Catching up on breaks was the first priority. Bandou, as the early shifter that day, had gone for a much-delayed lunch break, while Eric cleaned the unoccupied tables and Yata re-stocked. Fujishima was left to watch both the front counter and the tablet that connected them to Scepter 4.
Yata had just finished stacking the last of the to-go cups when the familiar jingle sounded and a voice he was starting to get to know announced, “Hey there! I’m here for a visit, finally!” When he turned, Saruhiko’s coworker, Doumyouji, was strolling up to the counter, smile wide and eyes bright. “Chitose said I should come in and see you guys – this place is really cool once you’re inside, huh?”
What’s that supposed to mean? It’s not cool from the outside? Yata resisted the urge to narrow his eyes – he was pretty sure Doumyouji was a good guy, based on the few times they’d chatted – and settled for aiming a frown over the till as Fujishima stepped up to the counter with a quiet welcome. “Chitose’s off today.”
“Huh? Really?” Doumyouji slumped, looking almost comically disappointed. “He should’ve said something when we talked yesterday! I figured we could hang out for a bit since I’m on a break…”
Fujishima offered him a small smile. “You could still hang out here if you want. We’re not that busy.”
“Finally,” Eric added in an undertone, lifting the counter to come through with his bucket.
“It’s fine – I’ll catch up with him another time!” Doumyouji waved a careless hand, still with that easy, open smile on his face. “But since I’m here…” His eyes drifted to the menu. “You guys have a lot of really sweet drinks, don’t you?”
Yata couldn’t help a sharp, amused ‘heh’ at that, easing up enough to grin in return. “What was your first clue?”
“There’s cake too, if you want it,” Fujishima pointed out quietly.
“Hmm, pass for now. Kamo made a lemon loaf this morning.” Doumyouji studied the menu for another moment, looking thoughtful, and then smiled with satisfaction, turning his gaze back towards Fujishima. “I’ll get a French Vanilla Mocha – extra shot of syrup, extra whipped cream, chocolate sprinkles and a caramel swirl on top. Oh, and to-go – please and thank you!”
Yata stared at him for a moment, not sure whether to take the request seriously. “Does that even count as a coffee any more…?”
Fujishima was already dutifully punching the order into the till. “Coming right up,” he said with a completely straight face, after getting the total on the screen.
“All right – can’t wait!” Doumyouji beamed at his back as he turned to start mixing the ridiculously sugary order. He leaned forward against the counter with a content-sounding hum, before looking up and fixing his gaze on Yata. Something seemed to occur to him then, and he perked up. “Ah, right! Did you and Fushimi-san work things out last night, Yata? He’s been in a good mood all day.” A split second of hesitation later, he added with a bit of a rueful tone, “Well, better than usual, anyway.”
The implication was enough to freeze him in place, skin prickling up. Yata found himself struck by two different parts in that carefree statement, one right after the other.
‘He’s been in a good mood all day.’ Which meant Saruhiko was feeling good about last night. Maybe even excited for what was coming. A little thrill shot through his body at that, and Yata had to clench his teeth against the urge to shiver. All day long, he’d felt… different. Not really in a bad way, just sorta confusing. Or, well, not even that – he knew what he felt like but it was hard to believe the degree and the direction.
Seriously, from the second he’d woken up and getting gradually stronger through the day, there was that sense of anticipation – and want. The remembered sensation of Saruhiko’s fingers was sharp in his brain, and he couldn’t get it to stop. Having stuff to do helped, but it wasn’t like it actually left him alone. It was even worse than before, and he couldn’t seem to relax at all.
Whether it was normal or not, it had felt fucking incredible, and all he could think was that he wanted more. It made his whole body burn just looking back at what they’d done. Worse when he pictured Saruhiko’s reaction. He was like that because of me, was the thought that wouldn’t stop.
And now, here was this guy casually tossing off confirmation that Saruhiko was probably thinking about it too.
Fuck. He was strongly tempted to march over to Scepter 4 right now and tell them he was taking his goddamn boyfriend for the rest of the day and they could all suck it if they didn’t like that. The only thing stopping him was the fact that he was gonna have to explain himself afterwards, and this shit was embarrassing as hell. ‘I just couldn’t wait to have his dick up my ass’? He wasn’t sure he’d survive admitting it.
Still, the rush of feeling was strong enough to kick off a physical reaction. His skin flushed, all the way along his torso and up to his face. It distracted him for a whole second or two before he honed in on the other part of what Doumyouji had said.
‘Did you and Fushimi-san work things out last night?’
All at once, it was like that heated blood drained out of his body. Yata stiffened, vision clearing, and stared back at Doumyouji with growing horror. “W-wait… last night… you – you know…?”
“Hm?” Doumyouji tilted his head curiously, then shrugged, offering that easy smile again. “Yeah, Fushimi-san said something about it in the break room yesterday. I was really surprised, you know?” He spread his hands. “But it’s not really a big deal – I mean, we’re all cool with offering advice and all.”
“What?” Incredulity overrode mortification in that one instant. Yata braced both fists on the counter, gaping at that smiling face. “Sa… Saruhiko asked you? Seriously?”
“Well, more or less…” Doumyouji shrugged – way too casually, in Yata’s opinion. “Hey, who can you count on if not your comrades for that sort of thing, right?”
It was like something broke in the back of his brain – he could almost hear the loud crunch as it fell apart. Saruhiko seriously asked for advice. On sex. It was the most unbelievable thing he could remember hearing in almost twenty-one years of being alive. He couldn’t seem to process it. “But,” he sputtered and couldn’t seem to make his thoughts work enough to form the words that would follow.
Seriously, just that ‘but’ covered it. But everything, damnit! There’s no way in hell…
The door to the back room opened behind him. “Why is that so hard to believe?” Eric’s voice said drily. “You asked us for advice, remember?”
Somehow, that snapped him back out of it. Yata shot him a scowl over his shoulder, feeling his face burn as he remembered how that conversation had gone. He’d been halfway thinking about maybe bringing it up again to see if Saruhiko had been telling the truth about the fact that his reactions were weird, but it was fucking embarrassing in the first place! That was beside the point right now, though. “That’s different! This is Saruhiko we’re talking about here! Th-there’s no way…”
“Mm… yeah, you know, normally I’d agree with you,” Doumyouji mused. When Yata turned back to face him, he had a thoughtful expression on his face. “But recently Fushimi-san’s been a lot… uh… well, not exactly ‘friendly’, but less… hm… himself, I guess.” He flashed another bright grin, spreading his hands again. “He sometimes talks to us, even. Weird, I know.”
Yata’s eyebrow twitched. Okay, yeah, he got that – it made sense based on what Saruhiko had told him when they were in that cellar together. But still… “Th-that’s not the point! Look, this is a weird subject, okay? Even when I brought it up, it wasn’t really for advice – ”
“Except for the part where it was,” Eric added, passing behind him.
He whipped around again to glare. “Hah? D-don’t put words in my mouth! I just wanted informa – ”
The expression he got back was unimpressed. “You asked me how it felt to take it up the ass.”
“AH!” Yata floundered for a second, feeling heat rush up to his face again. “What the hell? That was a private conversation, goddamnit!”
Eric sighed. “You’re the one who’s always being so loud and making them public.”
Yata glowered back at him, fists tightening. “What’s that got to do with anything, huh?”
“Uh. ‘Scuse me.” Doumyouji raised a hand, glancing between them with a kind of bright-eyed curiosity. “I’m probably missing something, but what’s taking it up the ass got to do with moving in together? Is this a new trend I didn’t hear about yet?”
The weirdly casual way he said ‘taking it up the ass’ almost distracted from the rest of the sentence. Yata gaped at him for a second time, caught without words.
‘Moving in together’.
Fucking ‘moving in together’.
Saruhiko had asked for advice… about that?
Before he could quite gather his wits, Fujishima abruptly turned, holding out the to-go cup. The expression on his face was perfectly bland, as if none of the conversation going on around him had evoked any kind of reaction. “Here.”
“Oh, sweet!” Apparently that was enough to distract Doumyouji from the rest. He beamed back, reaching out to take the offered drink. “Thanks a lot!”
“Hold on a sec…” Yata pressed the ball of his hand hard against the counter, frowning at Doumyouji and trying to will away the warm traces of embarrassment still lingering on his face. “Saruhiko asked you for advice about moving in together?”
Doumyouji blinked at him. “Yeah. Well, sort of. He was a bit vague, now that I think about it…” He shrugged. “Anyway, same idea.”
Same idea, he says… Yata let his frown deepen, feeling his eyebrows crease as he worked his way through that. Saruhiko asking for advice about moving in together… Obviously not about how to move in together, since it wasn’t complicated or anything, so what the hell was he asking? How to make up his mind?
That really seemed unlikely, considering this was Saruhiko. There was no way he’d rely on others to make that kind of decision – not without a push.
Still, he had to have asked about something – Doumyouji wasn’t the lying type. Honestly, though, as the reality of that sank in, Yata found he didn’t care much. If Saruhiko was asking for advice, it meant he was actually thinking about it. It meant he’d caught it when Yata had blurted it out, kept it in his mind even through all this focus on the sex, and was giving it serious, conscious thought.
Somehow, just that simple fact sent a rush of warmth through him – not the uncomfortable warmth that came with embarrassment, but the heady, light warmth he was coming to associate with his feelings for Saruhiko.
It was crazy just how good these little things could make him feel. Hell, he didn’t even care what kind of answer he was going to get. Anything was fine. Just that one fact – he gave it serious thought – was enough.
Guess I really do have it bad, huh?
“Why?” Domyouji’s voice cut into his silent musing; when he looked up, that bright, curious gaze was on him again. “What were you thinking of?”
Oh, right. Shit. “N-never mind!” Yata brought up one of his hands without thinking, waving it with flustered energy. “Th-that’s not important, got it? It’s nothing!”
Eric snorted. “I doubt that. You’ve been acting stupidly happy all morning.”
That caught him off-guard. “Wait, what?” Had he really been acting differently? Yata’s eyebrows came down with instinctive, defensive agitation, lips curling down in a scowl. “What’s that s’posed to mean?”
“Eric,” Fujishima added in quiet rebuke.
“Sorry.” Eric shrugged in response and looked up again to meet Yata’s gaze. One corner of his mouth quirked up. “Actually, it’s not really a bad thing.”
“Agreed!” Doumyouji nodded in confident solidarity. “I mean, if you’re both happy then things must be going all right.” He grinned at Yata. “Well, good luck with figuring out the moving in thing, huh? Oh, and tell Chitose I said hi! I’ll catch him next time.” He took several steps backwards before turning smoothly to face the door, tossing a wave over his shoulder with his free hand. “See you guys!”
“He has a lot of energy for an office worker,” Fujishima remarked as the door jingled shut.
Eric snorted. “Reminds me of someone else in this room.”
Yata shot him a half-hearted glare. “Yeah, whatever.” His thoughts were more on Doumyouji’s words: that ‘you’re both happy’ part. It brought him back to the way their conversation had started out, and the reason behind his reaction. The reasons that had been bugging him all day so far.
That restless yearning was back, worse than ever now with the blend of comfortable infatuation and suppressed desire. They were gonna fuck – for real, no finishing halfway this time – and if it felt anything like it had last night…
Hell, he really didn’t know what to expect. His heart was starting to drum up a storm in his chest.
Still… Can’t think about that right now. Yata clenched his hand back into a fist on the counter, and drew up as much determination as he could muster. “How’re the deliveries?” he asked, willing the thoughts back down and trying to ignore the lingering heat on his face and neck.
Eric glanced at the tablet. “We’ve got three.”
Good enough. Yata started for the machine, relieved to have somewhere to direct his energy. “All right! Read me the orders, and I’ll do ‘em up right now!”
Somehow or another, he was gonna make it through the work day. Somehow.
It was past the usual lunchtime, which was normally when Fushimi would’ve taken his break. Today, however, the connection between his case and Akiyama’s had been cracked open and there had been a great deal of emergency work for everyone, which had only quieted down less than half an hour ago. Following that, almost everyone had taken the opportunity to get lunch, and so every desk around him was empty.
Which of course meant that most of his co-workers were in the break room, and he was avoiding it at all costs.
Well, it might’ve been fine on another day. As he’d noted in the recent past, he didn’t actively dislike any of the people he worked with. Under normal circumstances, at least. But today, he had things on his mind that he wasn’t particularly interested in thinking about with others around.
And when he wasn’t working, it was unfortunately becoming difficult to control the direction his thoughts took.
That was it right there: Misaki. Giving him that heated smirk with his eyes lidded and seeming to burn, a ring of brilliant amber surrounding the wide, dark circle of his pupils. Lying on Fushimi’s bed with his tanned skin seeming to stand out against the plain bedspread. Face flushed and head thrown back as his body shuddered with pleasure.
Smiling sleepily at him as he drifted off.
The bruises on his shoulders seemed to throb, though the pain wasn’t exactly unpleasant. Fushimi wasn’t quite sure if the longing rising fast at the back of his throat was born more of desire or that tantalizing sense of something that seemed to fit the classic definition of home somehow. Both seemed to be equally powerful – and equally overwhelming.
Firstly, he wanted to fuck Misaki – that would happen tonight, and the anticipation was close to driving him mad. It was tempting to just leave – with the morning’s excitement cleared up, there was nothing particularly pressing, and he had enough confidence in his efficiency that his remaining work could wait until Monday. With his brain on fire like this, he was feeling crazy enough to give it serious thought.
Absently, Fushimi reached up to brush his fingers over one shoulder, a faint mimicry of that rough grasp from last night. Yes, he definitely wanted to continue from that point – to see where things went from there. Those little tantalizing reminders were clouding his thoughts and making it almost difficult to breathe around that haze of desire.
But then at least some of his co-workers – and certainly his boss – would probably guess why he’d left early, and that thought was repugnant enough to keep him from doing something stupid.
Don’t be ridiculous. Fushimi clicked his tongue, slouching in his seat and frowning at the monitor as he half-heartedly watched his script execute. You’ll see him tonight, and there’s no need to come in tomorrow. That’s enough, isn’t it?
It didn’t feel like it, but he hadn’t quite gotten to the point where feelings overrode logic. Thankfully.
Fushimi clicked his tongue again, shutting his eyes for a moment. He wanted to live with Misaki. Falling asleep and waking up to the sight of that familiar smile – familiar back – familiar everything. Chatting about inanities over breakfast. Over dinner, sometimes. Casually playing games together. Casually kissing. Casually… being. Falling into a comfortable rhythm of existing together.
He craved it so fiercely, it was almost alarming – an emotional counterpart to that intense physical longing.
That’s no reason to rush into –
The thought was interrupted by the sound of a door slamming open. Fushimi looked up sharply, and caught sight of Doumyouji standing in the doorway leading from the café – just seconds before Doumyouji glanced around and caught sight of him.
The smile that spread on his co-worker’s face was not exactly encouraging. Fushimi frowned back, immediately suspicious. Why is he looking at me like that?
Without a word – just a self-satisfied sounding hum, actually – Doumyouji turned away and hastily crossed the room, skirting the workstations to head for the break room. Almost before he’d flung open the door, he was already boisterously calling out, “Hey! You guys are never gonna guess what I just found out!”
You’re too loud, idiot. Fushimi shot a scowl at the break room door – which had not closed properly in the wake of that human tornado passing through – still feeling unnerved by that single moment of contact. He had a bad feeling about that smile…
“No, no! Come on – guess!”
That was it. Fushimi abruptly pushed his chair away from his desk, standing quickly. Someone’s trying to work out here, you simpleton. He strode quickly to the door as Doumyouji continued to harp on triumphantly about whatever inane piece of gossip he’d picked up, reaching for the handle.
It was just as he flung the door open Doumyouji loudly blurted, “Sounds like Fushimi-san got lucky with Yata last night!”
The world seemed to freeze.
Dimly, Fushimi was aware that most of his co-workers – minus Hidaka and Fuse, who were working in the café, and Kamo, who was out of the office with Awashima on field work, were staring at him with increasingly alarmed gazes, some of them bordering on horror. That was outside of the angry buzzing at the back of his mind; he directed the majority of his ire into a death glare at the back of Doumyouji’s head.
After that second of dismay, Enomoto raised a hand feebly to wave for a halt. “Uh… Doumyouji-san… I don’t think – ”
“No, no, see, it’s true!” Doumyouji seemed to have missed the tense mood; he waved his own arms enthusiastically in response, and Fushimi caught sight of the Homra to-go cup clutched in one of his hands.
He and Misaki were going to have words, apparently.
The idiot was still going, though. “One of Yata’s friends said something about ‘taking it up the ass’ and he got really defensive, but he didn’t actually deny it, y’know, it was pretty suspicious and – ”
Akiyama cleared his throat meaningfully, interrupting that excited rambling. Without speaking, he inclined his head in Fushimi’s direction, expression composed and faintly apologetic. “Fushimi-san,” he greeted, politely.
Doumyouji actually made an ‘urk’ sound, turning around slowly with an expression of almost comical dread. “A-ah… Fushimi-san…”
Fushimi let one of his knives slide free onto his palm, narrowing his eyes in response. “Go on,” he ground out, low and dangerous. “I can’t wait to find out how you came across this… fascinating information.”
In the background, several people shifted uncomfortably, but no one spoke.
“Eh, well…” Doumyouji fidgeted with clear apprehension, but seemed to decide ‘what the hell’ and plunged onward. “I just went there to visit a friend – but it turned out he wasn’t there, so I chatted with Yata and the others for a bit.” He shrugged, a bit jerkily, his words starting to spill out more quickly. “I figured maybe the reason you seemed to be in such a good mood today was that you guys talked about the ‘moving in’ stuff, so you know, it was just – ”
“What.” It came out flat with disbelief. Fushimi felt his lips twist in a scowl. Good mood? Seriously?
What about him had given off that impression?
“Uh, so, does anyone else not know what the ‘moving in’ thing is?” Gotou asked in an undertone.
“Shh!” Enomoto frantically gestured for him to stop.
“Well, it’s true!” Doumyouji protested. He glanced over his shoulder for support. “You guys noticed it too, right? Fushimi-san’s been in a good mood all day so far! He barely even snapped at me when he told me to redo my last report.”
“Ah. That’s true.” Gotou nodded. Enomoto shot him a despairing look.
Out of the rest, Akiyama seemed to be the only one inclined to meet Fushimi’s surly glare. “You did seem to give off that kind of impression, Fushimi-san,” he noted, with a tiny apologetic smile. “I wouldn’t say it’s a bad thing.”
Fushimi stared at him, nonplussed. He wasn’t sure whether to be more annoyed that he’d given off some kind of unexpected vibe or surprised that his co-workers had actually picked up on it. Exactly how far from his usual behavior had he deviated?
“Right?” Doumyouji seemed to gain confidence from the solidarity, nodding earnestly as Fushimi shot him a baleful look. “One of the guys – didn’t catch his name – dropped something about Yata being happy all morning too, so there you go!” He frowned a bit, thoughtfully. “I think that was after he said the bit about ‘taking it up the ass’, actually…”
Misaki was? Fushimi found his fingers clenching briefly on the hilt of the knife. He wasn’t sure why that knowledge should be surprising. After what they’d done, it should be normal if Misaki was happy. He’d certainly been happy enough in the immediate aftermath, and the contentment in his smiles the following morning was relaxed and sincere.
The following morning as he cooked for them – as he sat across from Fushimi and they ate in companionable silence, like all of this was normal.
It felt like a tiny, invisible lance striking his heart. Painful, but… not unwelcome.
Still, there was this mess to deal with. Fushimi clicked his tongue, his anger dulled out to a vague irritation. He leveled Doumyouji with a flat, unimpressed stare. “That’s a shitty reason for talking about someone else’s business like a brainless idiot who can’t keep his nose to himself. Honestly, are you five years old?”
“Eh?” Doumyouji actually seemed dismayed at that. “Wait, but isn’t it interesting to hear about what the people you know are up to? I mean, I thought that news was pretty exciting, actually…” He craned his neck to look for support. “Who’d have thought Fushimi-san would actually get laid, right?”
There was a moment of strained, uncomfortable silence.
Enomoto seemed to be doing his very best to be enthralled by some stain on the table in front of him. Goto was busily scratching his elbow, eyes trained away awkwardly. Akiyama gave Doumyouji something of a pitying look, arms crossed over his chest. And Benzai… had gone back to his book, as if none of this was taking place around him.
He was probably the smartest of them.
Well, I wouldn’t have thought it either. Fushimi clicked his tongue again, bending his arm to slide the knife back into place with a single, quick movement. “Do you even think before opening your mouth, or does it just flap around like that by habit?”
Doumyouji turned with a bit of a sheepish grin, spreading his hands. “I just kind of go by instinct, you know?”
“That doesn’t surprise me.” Honestly, he was probably losing brain cells just by standing there dealing with this. Fushimi turned for the door again, letting out his breath sharply. What a waste of time. “You can put those instincts to good use this afternoon organizing the supply room.”
“Eh – wait, what?” Doumyouji’s voice was loud and notably dismayed. “Why me?”
Fushimi pulled the door open without bothering to turn or answer.
“Doumyouji-san, you really don’t know your limits, do you?” Enomoto mumbled behind him.
“What do you mean? What did I do?”
“Fushimi-san.” Akiyama’s polite voice cut through the whining. Fushimi paused, looking back over his shoulder, and got a calm gaze and a small smile. “Good luck with whatever you’re trying to figure out.”
The little bit of warmth that sparked in his chest in response was somehow embarrassing. Fushimi clicked his tongue again half-heartedly and turned back. “Yeah.” A split second of hesitation later, he added a grudging, “Thanks,” and then escaped through the door, letting it shut behind him.
Even as he made his way back to his desk in silence, parts of the conversation were still replaying in his brain. Most notably, the part about Misaki being in a good mood. The implications didn’t seem to have quite sunk in, somehow.
Does he feel this as strongly as I do?
Not that some nebulous ‘good mood’ indicated the kind of restless desire lurking just beneath the surface of Fushimi’s thoughts, but after last night… He remembered Misaki’s reactions well. Not only that, though – there were also the lingering touches and kisses that followed to consider. Even during their brief time together that morning, he’d felt the heat of Misaki’s eyes on him.
Despite the long-standing instinct that told him not to rely on any kind of reciprocation from others, somehow Fushimi felt strongly that their feelings were in sync on this.
Misaki wanted this as much as he did – even the lingering doubts couldn’t shake that certainty.
The script had completed its execution; he returned to his desk to find a message indicating success and a reading of the results. Fushimi slumped into his seat, frowning at the screen for a moment. As if I didn’t have enough difficulty with this stupid business…
It didn’t matter. He pulled in his chair, firmly drawing his mind back to the matter at hand. His concentration was good enough – he could make it through the day properly as long as he had work to focus his attention on.
And once he and Misaki were alone…
Don’t think about that now. Surely he could keep a cool head regardless of the situation. It wasn’t as if he’d ever allowed ridiculous things like this to impact his judgment or force his hand.
Yata barely had time to turn around after Saruhiko’s apartment door shut behind them, fully intent on pinning his boyfriend against it – and found himself pulled in before he could make the move, Saruhiko’s hands gripping his hips in a surprisingly rough fashion. There were lips on his before he could think to lean up and bring them together himself, clumsy and fervent.
Damn. Okay then!
His body moved on instinct to reply in kind, pressing Saruhiko back against the solid wood of the door and opening his mouth under the sudden onslaught. He clenched his fingers against Saruhiko’s arms, a little spark of arousal stirring to life within him at the feel of wiry muscle beneath them – and then growing sharper as those fine-boned hands slid down to squeeze his ass firmly, drawing their lower bodies into contact.
Fuck, was it ever a turn-on. Yata groaned a little into Saruhiko’s mouth, already feeling the heat from the demanding motions, and wedged one of his legs between his boyfriend’s for better leverage.
Okay, to be fair, he’d been worked up since before they’d met up, and then whipped into a frenzy by Saruhiko’s proximity on the bus and during the walk home. This was just the final straw. He couldn’t even remember what kind of conversation they’d had – if they’d had one. All he could think about was how badly he wanted to touch, to kiss, to feel. He was so fucking ready to go he’d have been fine with it if Saruhiko wanted to bend him over the kitchen counter right now.
Hell, that sounded kinda hot – maybe another day…
Saruhiko made an urgent little sound, the soft vibration from it feeding into the feverish heat that had already built in Yata’s body. The fingers on his ass clenched against the fabric of his shorts roughly, as if trying to press through to the flesh beneath.
He still remembered vividly what it had felt like when those fingers slid inside him. Another sharp little spike of lustful pleasure had Yata shuddering, hips grinding forward to press his half-formed erection against Saruhiko’s hip.
It was going fast – way too fucking fast, probably – but he didn’t give a shit. Saruhiko’s mouth was hot and needy, his body warm beneath Yata’s hands, and – damnit – there was too much clothing between them. He wanted to feel skin, not cloth.
“Mm… Misaki?” Saruhiko mumbled against his lips as Yata moved his hands to fumble with the buttons of that pristine work shirt. His fingers felt clumsy and shaky under the pressure of the desire building to a fever pitch in his body; he had to fight the urge to yank it open with all his strength rather than fucking around with this. Their breath mingled, mouths not quite separating in the rush, and then Saruhiko’s hands slid up from his ass to creep under his shirt, cool fingers caressing the heated skin beneath.
Yata let out a startled gasp, fingers jerking as he was momentarily distracted from his original goal. Another little shiver went through him as Saruhiko’s fingers teased him, slowly moving upward with the obvious intent of pulling his shirt along.
Hell, he wasn’t gonna protest. The sooner they got naked, the better, in his opinion. “Got it,” Yata mumbled, breaking free for long enough to struggle free of the inconvenient fabric. He tossed both it and the undershirt beneath it off to the side without caring where they landed, returning to his original task with urgency as Saruhiko’s hands ran almost lazily up the sides of his body, thumbs tracing the line of his ribcage.
Fucking… It felt like there were a million buttons. Yata clenched his teeth, grinding his lower body forward to trap Saruhiko against the door with frustrated aggression as he fumbled with them. “How many fucking buttons are on this thing?” he ground out, feeling an impatient little twinge of pleasure at the responding shift of Saruhiko’s hips against his – the unmistakable press of an erection against his abdomen. His fingers trembled. “Goddamnit! Help me already, Saruhiko!”
“Mmhm.” His boyfriend’s fingers tightened briefly against his bare skin; Yata jerked his head up to glare and was greeted with the soft press of Saruhiko’s mouth against his, tongue slipping out slyly to trace the curve of Yata’s lip. The slide of pleasant sensation blanked his thoughts for a moment – and then Saruhiko’s hands were leaving him, working between them to undo the bottom buttons.
Finally! The two ends of fabric parted, allowing Yata to slide it open, fingers brushing greedily along the smooth, firm expanse of Saruhiko’s chest. He circled his thumb experimentally around one pert nipple and felt his boyfriend’s breath hitch against his mouth. Saruhiko made another pleased hum and hastily tucked his arms back, pulling the shirt off of them before reaching out to slide his hands around Yata’s hips again, this time slipping his fingers under the waistband to tease the skin beneath.
It felt good; Yata moaned again without restrain, surging up against Saruhiko’s mouth in response and bringing their naked upper bodies into contact. “Saruhiko,” he half-growled out, barely separating their lips, and felt the erratic breathing against his cheek as they continued to kiss hungrily through it. His hands squirmed between Saruhiko’s back and the door as they pressed against it again, drawing them as close together as he could manage.
His dick was already fully hard, his lower body shifting needily against the curve of Saruhiko’s hip, but outside of the frenzied heat that had taken over his brain, he was aware that they hadn’t even fucking moved from the door. The bed – which had to be their eventual destination – was across the goddamn room and he still had his shoes on.
Shit. Yata broke away from the kiss reluctantly, tipping his head so their foreheads met and his lips couldn’t be chased, offering a breathy, “One sec,” as he hastily kicked off his shoes. Above him, Saruhiko’s eyes had narrowed almost to slits, only a thin line visible of each and a dark flush spread beneath them. It made Yata’s heart start to pound.
There was movement against him as Saruhiko stepped out of his boots, and Yata took advantage of the distraction to slide his hands to the front again and start working at the fastener of his boyfriend’s work pants.
It was difficult with the lack of space between their bodies, but he didn’t want to bother putting distance between them. Saruhiko seemed to agree, if the way his fingers clenched briefly against Yata’s lower back was any indication. “I’ll leave that part to you,” he murmured, a note of urgency in his voice, and extracted his hands to reach for the front of Yata’s shorts as well.
His fingers brushed – probably not-so-accidentally – against the covered lump of Yata’s erection, and the resulting spike of sensation pulled a startled moan from Yata’s throat, his fingers jerking and head pressing up hard against Saruhiko’s. “Fuck,” he ground out through clenched teeth and redoubled his efforts.
The button popped open beneath his hands, finally, and he lowered the zipper carefully, taking a moment to give Saruhiko’s erection a squeeze through the thin fabric of his boxers, swiping his thumb across the wet patch over the head and then tilting his head to capture the resulting whine with his lips as Saruhiko shivered against him.
The kiss turned aggressive quickly, Saruhiko’s lips and tongue quickly getting demanding as if in revenge for the tease. Yata gave back as good as he got, hands sliding to grip the sides of his boyfriend’s body and letting out a short, relieved sigh as his shorts loosened and were yanked down over his hips insistently.
“Step back,” Saruhiko murmured without properly breaking the kiss, pushing forward from the door as Yata’s shorts dropped to his ankles.
Hell yeah. He could see where this was going. Yata stepped back, stumbling a bit over his own feet as Saruhiko walked him backwards toward the bed, both of them reaching down to tug at the work pants until they met a similar fate to the shorts, dropping off somewhere in the awkward fumbling trip and kicked back off of Saruhiko’s feet ruthlessly.
Their clothed erections brushed, causing them both to gasp out of sync, and Yata just about fell on his ass but recovered with a larger step back and a fair amount of wobbling even as Saruhiko closed the distance relentlessly, catching Yata’s mouth with his own with clumsy insistence.
It was a hell of a fucking turn-on how intent he was, seriously.
Yata wasn’t quite prepared when his knees hit the edge of the bed, and with Saruhiko still edging him on, he overbalanced and fell back, landing heavily on the mattress with a small, startled ‘oof’. He’d barely recovered from the disorientation when Saruhiko was climbing up after him, straddling his hips and staring down at him with lidded eyes, pupils blown wide behind the veil of his lashes. His glasses were askew but he didn’t seem to notice, staring down at Yata with undisguised heat.
Damn. Yata swallowed hard, his dick giving a little twinge in response to the sight in front of him. He raised his hands without thinking to run up along Saruhiko’s thighs to his hips, dipping back to feel the tight, clothed curve of his ass as well. It made him feel like his throat was closing up with an overload of excitement. This is hot as hell, holy shit!
Saruhiko’s hands closed on his; the corners of his mouth dipped up in the faintest hint of a smirk. “You’re overdressed,” he murmured.
Right – the boxers. Fuck. Yata bit his lip for a moment, eyes tracing the thin lines of Saruhiko’s body. “So are you, damnit,” he managed to grit out, fingers tensing up with helpless want.
If anything, the smirk widened. Saruhiko closed his eyes and then re-opened them slowly, an odd blend of coy and predatory as their gazes locked. “Let’s fix that,” he drawled, and reached up to slowly remove his glasses, setting them aside, “and then we can finish what we started this time, hm?”
That look was just about setting his blood on fire; Yata could feel his heart pounding wildly against his chest, its frantic rhythm reflecting the desire pumping through his veins. He grinned back, open and fierce. “Yeah, you’d better fucking finish it – I’ve been waiting all day for this, Saruhiko.”
“Mm.” Saruhiko shifted back slightly, reaching out to take hold of the elastic of Yata’s underwear. “Me too,” he admitted, low and soft but without the usual reluctance. “I thought about you, Misaki. All day.”
It might as well have been a passionate declaration of undying love the way that thought struck through his core. Yata had to bite his lip again around the little groan he couldn’t hold back, a tiny bit of moisture leaking from the dip of his dick as a pleasant ache throbbed along it. “Damnit,” he blurted desperately, reaching down with shaky fingers to help pull the waistband of his boxers down and over, “I fucking did too.” He lifted his hips, bracing himself on the backs of his shoulders as he squirmed free of the confining fabric. Saying the words out loud was like releasing a torrent; he couldn’t hold back once he started. “Can’t help it, goddamnit, I want you!”
Saruhiko was staring at him with parted lips and a burning gaze. “Misaki,” he responded, a little whine mixing into the name, and leaned forward with obvious intent. Yata craned his neck to meet the kiss, reaching up again for Saruhiko’s hips and this time greedily sliding his hands past the elastic band of his underwear to cup his ass, squeezing without shame as his boyfriend moaned into their open-mouthed kiss.
When they finally parted, it was with reluctance. “Take them off,” Saruhiko mumbled at him, tension evident in even the lower pitch of his voice, and backed off, righting himself again.
Yata stared hazily up at him. “Yeah, you too,” he muttered back, feeling foggy-headed with lust.
“I plan to.” Saruhiko shifted to dismount Yata’s hips, dislodging Yata’s hands in the process, and reached down to smoothly tug his own underwear down past his flushed erection before falling back to a seat on the bed and pulling them the rest of the way off.
The sight only stoked that fire burning in his belly even further. A low, needy sound escaped his throat as Yata pushed himself up enough that he could pull his boxers and socks all the way off. “Saruhiko,” he said, not minding the urgency in his own voice. “C’mon…”
“Wait a minute.” Saruhiko shifted again on the bed, reaching under one of the pillows before turning again to face him. He had the bottle from the night before and a telltale, thin foil package in his hands. “We might want to have these before we start,” he drawled, setting them down and reaching forward to tug at Yata’s thigh insistently.
“Y-yeah. Right.” Despite everything, he couldn’t help but feel that uncomfortable flush of embarrassment as he obligingly spread his legs, shifting to allow Saruhiko to settle between them. It helped to look up and see the expanse of smooth, pale skin above him – the matching red on Saruhiko’s face and neck – the proud jut of his erection standing between his legs.
The erection that was gonna be inside him pretty soon. Strangely, rather than making him nervous, the thought was exciting. Yata swallowed, remembering how Saruhiko’s fingers had felt stirring within him. The memory gave him another little pleasant twinge, balls tightening with anticipation. “Get on with it,” he growled, aiming a heated look up.
Saruhiko met him with smoldering eyes, shifting his body forward and spreading his knees under Yata’s thighs, so that their lower bodies were nearly in contact. “Raise your hips.”
This is it, huh? He wasn’t about to refuse. Yata allowed himself a tense, excited grin, shifting his weight back onto his shoulders again. “Seriously, you’re putting it in this time, got it?”
He got back an amused huff and a slightly predatory smirk. “I don’t need you to tell me,” Saruhiko murmured, inching forward until he had Yata’s hips supported in his lap, and then turning to reach for the bottle again.
“Heh! Never know with you.” The new position wasn’t uncomfortable, but it took a little adjusting. Yata shifted a bit so his back wasn’t bent so awkwardly and licked his lips without thinking as he watched Saruhiko unwrap the condom package. “You’re doing that first?”
“It didn’t exactly work well the other way, did it?” As he watched, Saruhiko’s deft fingers positioned the condom, pinching the top and unrolling the rest carefully down along the hard line of his cock.
It was kind of a fascinating sight. “How’d you learn to do that?”
He got a raised eyebrow for his trouble; somehow, despite the flush and the very evident desire, Saruhiko could still manage a condescending look. “There’s this very useful source of information known as the Internet – have you heard of it?”
Yata shot him an irritated frown. “Yeah, okay, I get it – you don’t need to be a prick about it.”
“Never know with you,” Saruhiko echoed back at him, without remorse, and offered back a lazy smirk. “Right, Misaki?”
Ugh. “Just – just get on with it already.” Yata scowled, still too impatient to turn this into a real argument. He squirmed a bit as Saruhiko turned again to retrieve the bottle. “Asshole.”
“If you say so,” Saruhiko drawled back, generously coating his fingers.
This was it. Yata willed himself to relax, anticipation and excitement battling it out within him. “Y-yeah.”
There was the usual pause once those slick digits were in position at the base of his ass. “Okay?”
Yata let his eyes go lidded, directly a heated grin back up at his boyfriend. “You better be kidding.”
Saruhiko’s lips quirked, but he didn’t comment. One of his fingers pressed through the tight ring of muscle, easing into Yata’s body cautiously.
It was still kind of a weird feeling, but with the memory of last time to fuel him, the intrusion felt a lot more erotic. Yata found it easier to relax, breathing out and shutting his eyes briefly as the finger wriggled slightly and then withdrew. He barely felt the discomfort when Saruhiko came back with two, and the scissoring motions made him feel oddly stretched.
There was no attempt to hit that magic spot from before. Yata wasn’t sure if he was happy about that; it was probably for the best, but… damnit, it had felt really good. He could already feel his abdomen quiver with anticipation, and clenched his teeth as another little bead of moisture pooled at the head of his dick.
Just fucking wait, okay?
There was more of a sting with three fingers, but nothing major. Yata couldn’t even say if he minded the feeling; pain seemed pretty damn different when it was blended with the arousal coursing through his body. The hurt almost felt satisfying, in a way. It was weird, but… not bad.
“How does that feel?” Saruhiko asked; when he looked up, he was being studied intently.
Yata summoned up a smirk in response. “No big deal – I got this!”
“’No big deal’, huh?” Saruhiko’s mouth turned up at the corners, a hint of something wicked in his eyes, and quirked his fingers inward, probing.
“What the fuck are you – ?” The rest of that demand was lost in a half-gasping moan as sensation flooded his body. Yata clenched his fingers against the bedcover, panting as he recovered, and directed a heated glare back up. “Goddamnit, Saruhiko!”
“Sorry.” There wasn’t a trace of real remorse in his voice. Saruhiko’s gaze had gone lidded and dark with desire. “I had to make sure I could find it.”
Somehow, he couldn’t help but huff out a brief laugh, managing a rueful smile. “The hell kind of excuse is that?”
Saruhiko hummed low in response, withdrawing his fingers. “I like your reactions.”
That soft admission was enough to send a shiver down his spine. “Yeah, well… I wanna see yours too!” Impulsively, he blurted out, “Just fuck me already – c’mon!”
“Well, since you asked so nicely...” The words had a lilt, but there was tension in them, too. Yata tilted his head up to watch as Saruhiko poured more lube onto his palm and then wrapped his hand around his dick, spreading it across the surface of the condom.
The sight of him working himself over was lewd as hell – even more so when Yata tore his eyes away long enough to get a glimpse of Saruhiko’s expression. His eyes were closed, lips parted, expression tightening briefly as his hand moved on his cock.
It reminded him of last night, when Saruhiko had bent over him, looking almost crazed as he frantically brought himself to orgasm…
Shit. Too good.
Saruhiko’s hand stilled, sliding to the base of his dick. His eyes opened and the expression on his face shifted to one of concentration as he positioned himself. The tip of his erection prodded against the puckered muscle at the base of Yata’s ass.
Once again, he paused there. “All right?”
For fuck’s sake. “You’re asking that now?” Yata hefted himself onto his shoulders again, lifting his legs to brace his heels against Saruhiko’s back, insistently. “Do it already, Saruhiko!”
He got a half-heartedly clicked tongue for his trouble. “You’re so demanding,” Saruhiko mumbled, and slid his free hand around to brace at Yata’s hip, the other still holding the base of his cock as he pressed forward.
That – okay, it did hurt. Yata breathed out, forcing the muscles that had tensed instinctively against the sharp sting to relax as the head of Saruhiko’s erection pushed through the initial ring of resistance. It stretched, it hurt, and he was suddenly very thankful they were going slow, because if Saruhiko had thrust into him carelessly, it could’ve been much worse. He forced himself to take in another long breath, shut his eyes, and let it out slowly.
S’not that bad. I got this.
“Misaki?” Saruhiko’s voice sounded strange – a mix of anxiety, wariness, and tight control. Yata opened his eyes and took in the tense line of his boyfriend’s face. He was clenching his teeth, squinting down at Yata with intense concentration, obviously trying to curb his own instincts. His movement had stilled, but his fingers pressed hard into Yata’s hip, trembling noticeably.
It was endearing in some way. Yata couldn’t help but smile a bit despite the lingering traces of discomfort as the pain slowly started to ease off and stretched his arm up, brushing his fingers along the tight line of Saruhiko’s cheek. “I’m good – I got this, remember?” When their gazes locked, his smile widened. “I’ll say stop if I need it, okay? Trust me.”
Saruhiko shut his eyes, leaning into the touch with a shuddering sigh. “I’m trying,” he mumbled, and opened them again to give Yata a narrow look. “Don’t hold back if it hurts, idiot.”
“Yeah, yeah.” At that, he couldn’t help but smirk, withdrawing his hand to lie back again. The initial pain from the penetration had mostly faded, and somehow the thick, hard reality of Saruhiko’s dick in his body felt satisfying now. Almost good. “Don’t get too full of yourself. I can take whatever you dish out, jerk.”
“I’ll keep that in mind.” Saruhiko’s lips quirked again into the tiniest hint of a smile, and then he was moving forward again, shifting to fully bury himself within Yata.
Without the pain, the slide gave off that erotic feel he remembered from the fingers – multiplied by the thickness and the reality of that being his boyfriend’s goddamn cock already, holy shit. Yata bit his lip, his own neglected dick sending another sharp little twinge of pleasure through his body. The shivering feel around that fullness was really something else.
Even without that sweet spot being hit, this was fucking intense. Intimate. Hell.
“Fucking move,” he breathed out, after Saruhiko had fully seated himself. “Saruhiko…”
“Misaki…” There was a note of desperation in the response. Saruhiko pulled back, the catch and pull causing Yata’s breath to hitch, and then plunged back in with one smooth motion, drawing gasps from both of them in sync.
Fuck. It still kinda stung, but the movement within him was so satisfying, he didn’t really care. Yata curled his hands into fists, resisting the urge to reach down and give his cock a good few strokes. He wouldn’t stop if he did that now. “Feels… good,” he managed to grit out, staring hazily up at Saruhiko’s face.
It really was a sight – the expression was tense with pleasure and barely held restraint. “Yeah,” Saruhiko practically moaned in response, sounding almost completely wrecked, and then his eyes abruptly narrowed, and he reached out so both of his hands were braced on Yata’s hips, pulling out again and thrusting in deep and hard.
Yata clenched his teeth a moan, back arching at the rush of sensation. His fists dug into the mattress as Saruhiko let out a soft whine and began to thrust in earnest, his cock sliding in and out of Yata’s body in steadily increasing rhythm.
It felt so damn good. Giving up the fight, Yata unclenched one fist and reached with shaking fingers to take his own dick in hand, thumbing the head as he gave it a squeeze and curling his toes helplessly behind Saruhiko’s back at the additional surge of pleasure. He began to move, unable to hold back a little whimper as he matched his motions with the pace of Saruhiko’s thrusting.
Shit… I’m not gonna last long… Tension was already building in his lower belly, pleasure mounting fast throughout his body. Yata squeezed his eyes shut for a brief moment before opening them again to stare up at Saruhiko’s desperate expression, struggling to delay his orgasm a little longer.
Saruhiko’s eyes met his, frenzied and hot, and then he shifted Yata’s hips, thrusting at a different angle and – Fuck!
Intense pleasure flooded his system, seeming to spread out to all the pores on Yata’s body. He cried out, the hand on his cock faltering as he shuddered, his other hand tightening almost painfully. One more thrust – the fisted hand hammered against the bed helplessly – two – Yata threw his head back, another cry escaping through painfully clenched teeth as he stared desperately at the hazy sight of Saruhiko’s face – three – he was too far gone to process much else besides the need to come, and he was so close, right at the edge – four –
His entire body stiffened, shuddering with the intensity of the orgasm that throbbed through him. Yata’s cock jerked in his still hand, hot fluid spurting from the tip as he half-sobbed out some kind of shaky moan, pleasure clouding every sense as the release washed over his body.
Saruhiko’s erection was still moving within him, erratic thrusts causing Yata to twitch in response, the continued stimulation drawing more intense sensation from his over-sensitive body. Saruhiko was breathing heavily, clearly at his limit; as Yata stared blurrily up at him, his face twisted up with desperation, movements becoming more frenzied.
It was incredibly sexy. Yata was still staring, shivering through the aftermath, as Saruhiko suddenly tensed and shuddered violently. He let out a low, helpless moan as his cock jolted within Yata’s body, the force of his orgasm causing him to slump forward. His entire body trembled, chest rising and falling and eyes closed as he fought for breath.
There was a moment of stillness between them as they came down, the air cooling rapidly in the wake of sexual gratification.
Yata let his legs flop, all of the energy seeming to have drained out of him with the release of pleasurable tension. His brain was blissfully blank, and his body felt gross, but… sated. Incredibly so. It was like that was the orgasm he’d been waiting his whole life for.
Okay, maybe that’s kinda dumb.
Saruhiko raised his eyes slowly, wearily, and Yata felt the smile tugging at the corners of his mouth as their gazes met. “Damn,” he said, with feeling. “That was…” It took him a moment to draw up the right words in his satiated brain. “… fucking good.”
“Mm.” Saruhiko shut his eyes briefly, a small answering smile on his lips. “Yeah.”
Once again, Yata gave in to the urge to reach up and touch his face, and again, Saruhiko pressed into the contact, opening his eyes to gaze at Yata with a complicated mess of confusion, fondness and maybe a slight edge of panic.
Yata let out a breath, smile tilting up on one side. “Don’t freak out, huh?”
At that, Saruhiko clicked his tongue, frowning slightly. “Don’t be ridiculous.” He straightened with some effort, reaching down to hold the edges of the condom as he extracted his softening cock from Yata’s body.
One last little shudder ran through him as they separated. Saruhiko tied off the condom, tossing it into the small trash bin beside his computer desk, and turned his head to squint at Yata again.
That felt like a cue, somehow. Hell, why not? Yata spread his arms, offering a little shrug and wiggling his fingers meaningfully.
He got a flat stare for his trouble. “Seriously? Right now?”
“Huh? What’s wrong with right now?” Yata frowned back, confused and slightly irritated by the reaction. The hell is his problem?
Saruhiko clicked his tongue, frowning back. “We’re both disgusting right now, in case you hadn’t noticed.”
“Are you fucking kidding me?” The frown shifted to a scowl. “After all that shit we just did, you’re gonna tell me that cuddling after sex is disgusting? What the hell, Saruhiko?” When he didn’t get anything back besides a deeper frown and another clicked tongue, Yata gritted his teeth, determination overriding the loose relaxation that had struck through all of his muscles. He pushed himself up hastily, flipping forward onto his knees and rising up to straddle Saruhiko’s lap before he could retreat. “You’re really fucking annoying sometimes, you know that?” he muttered, bringing up both hands to cup his boyfriend’s startled face.
The surprise settled into a mix of irritation, wariness, and something that might have been reluctant pleasure – Saruhiko clicked his tongue a third time, but made no move to pull back. “Look who’s talking,” he mumbled.
“Yeah, whatever.” Yata grinned, a little rush of triumph running through him with the victory, and carefully tipped Saruhiko’s face up so he could lean in to kiss him gently.
The contact was soft and undemanding without the drive of hormones behind it. Yata felt that separate thrill stir within him – the one with all the feelings behind it that he hadn’t quite sorted out enough to put into words. And despite his earlier protest, Saruhiko seemed to melt against him, hands winding slowly around his back, eyes fluttering shut, pressing up into the kiss as if he’d been drowning for it.
This really is the best. When they broke apart, Yata smiled down at him, his heart so full he’d thought it could burst at any second. “See? You get my point now, right?”
Saruhiko let out what sounded like an aggrieved sigh, without opening his eyes. “Shut up.”
“Yeah, yeah.” Yata let his hands slide downward, lightly fingering the purpling marks on Saruhiko’s shoulders. “At least I didn’t bruise you this time.”
“True.” At that, Saruhiko did open his eyes, a lazy little smirk spreading on his lips. “You’ll have to try harder next time, won’t you, Misaki?”
“Eh?” Yata blinked at him, startled, and then – despite everything, still – felt a rush of hot embarrassment crawling up his cheeks. “A-are you serious? You want me to – ?”
“Mm.” Saruhiko interrupted him with a low, teasing hum, ducking forward to bury his face in Yata’s neck and nuzzling his nose against the sensitive skin just below his jaw. “You smell,” he breathed out, without making any move to pull back. “You need to bathe, Misaki.”
The intimate motion increased the flustered warmth; Yata floundered for a moment, torn between pulling back and relishing the pleasant sensation. “L-look who’s talking, you jerk! You’re not exactly smelling like roses yourself, y’know!”
“I’ll come along then,” Saruhiko drawled, pulling back slowly to fix him with one of those smoldering gazes beneath his lashes.
Hell, he was weak to that look. Yata swallowed, inexplicably nervous, and managed a small, rueful smile in return. “You’re fucking impossible.”
“You’re dating me.”
Heh. Yeah. The smile widened a little at that. “That’s right.” At the back of his head, the beginning of a plan was forming – it was simple and maybe a little on the embarrassing side, but if he waited for the right moment, it’d probably be pretty satisfying. Yata let his eyes grow lidded, confidence returning, and lowered his voice purposefully. “You’re mine, Saruhiko.”
Those blue eyes widened, an endearingly startled look flashing across Saruhiko’s face for one telling second. Then his expression settled, a hint of wry amusement tipping up the corners of his mouth again. “Having sex unlocked your unexpectedly bold side, I see.”
“Heh!” Yata grinned back, satisfied with the reaction. “Just stating a fact.”
“Is that so?” Saruhiko leaned in to bury his face against the side of Yata’s neck again. In a mumble so low that Yata almost didn’t catch it, he added, “Well, you’re also mine. Misaki.”
There it was again – that surge of emotion flooding his body and filling his soul. Yata let his arms slide gently around Saruhiko’s shoulders, shutting his eyes as he smiled to himself. “Yeah, sure.”
Good enough for now.
When he woke the next morning, Fushimi’s brain was sending him signals that something was off before he was conscious enough to realize exactly what it was.
They hadn’t slept right away the previous night; after bathing, Misaki had decided to use up some of the ingredients he’d brought over and made fried rice. Watching him surreptitiously from his computer desk, Fushimi privately felt he showed a ridiculous amount of energy for someone who’d had an orgasm less than half an hour ago. He still felt physically drained, though his mind was active enough to replay the events of the evening in the background for his entertainment.
Just what I need. Despite the thought, it was a pleasant distraction. Misaki’s touch and Misaki’s reactions and the feel of Misaki’s body surrounding him…
Well. He didn’t mind so much.
They’d eaten together at the small table that had been a housewarming gift from Munakata back when he’d moved to this apartment – which he customarily kept stowed in a corner because he couldn’t be bothered to make any kind of meal that couldn’t be eaten at his desk anyway. All the little irritations seemed to fade into the background when he sat there with Misaki. It was a silly moment: two full-grown men sitting down to a meal in their underwear, on the floor because he didn’t even have cushions to sit on, and with Misaki’s “Yata-rice”, which Fushimi wasn’t entirely sure if he liked – though he at least had to admit he didn’t particularly dislike it either. But Misaki’s smile was bright, his reactions to Fushimi’s teasing about the pineapple he’d included were lively and unrestrained, and something like quiet contentment seemed to settle within him as they shared something as simple and casual as a late meal.
Even discounting the sex – which, admittedly, had been amazing – it was a good night.
It didn’t explain the strangeness, but as Fushimi drifted towards consciousness, that quickly became clear.
There was something warm pressed against him – warm and moving – and a pleasant, hot suction at the base of his neck, punctuated by irregular puffs of air. The sensation felt nice enough that a tiny moan escaped his throat before he was fully awake; as he stirred, the presence against him broke off, though it didn’t move out of his personal space.
Payback, huh? The thought wormed its way into his mind even before he cracked his eyes open and caught the blurry but unmistakable image of Misaki’s lazy smirk in front of him.
“Morning,” Misaki greeted him, sounding a bit smug about it.
“Mmph.” Fushimi shut his eyes, let out a tired sigh, and fumbled for his glasses. “What time is it?”
“Dunno.” Misaki’s expression came into focus as he slide the frames up over his nose; his gaze was fond and more than a little pleased with himself. “Not like either of us works today.”
That was true. Traditionally, Fushimi did go into work on Sundays, although he sometimes slept a bit later first. Since entering this relationship, though, he hadn’t bothered unless there was some urgent work to finish.
“I guess.” Fushimi felt the tug of a wry smile and didn’t bother to resist it. “You were that eager to return the favor from before, huh?”
“Yeah,” Misaki admitted without any trace of shame. His grin widened, eyes going lidded with a kind of triumph. “Wouldn’t be the same if you woke up first, would it?”
He couldn’t help the amused snort at that. “If you say so.”
“Hey, you started it.”
That was true – though now, with the cold air hitting the wet patch on his neck, Fushimi felt like trying to reset that smug look on Misaki’s face. Not so much because it was irritating – though it kind of was – but he still felt the lingering traces of contentment from the previous night, and Misaki’s eyes were warm, lidded, and bright over his wide smile. Something about that tugged at him.
Well, it doesn’t matter. Pushing the thoughts aside, Fushimi reached out to brush his fingers along the line of Misaki’s cheek. It worked wonders – Misaki’s eyes fluttered shut, smile losing a little of that obnoxious edge and softening out. When he opened his eyes, most everything was gone but the fondness. “Saruhiko,” he murmured, reaching up to set his hand over Fushimi’s and gently hold it in place.
“Morning,” he offered belatedly, shifting forward to close the distance between them and capture Misaki’s lips.
There was no heat in the kiss – just a simple confirmation of closeness. One of those things about being a couple: kissing for no particular reason, other than that it felt good and the mood struck. Like sitting at a table eating a meal in their underwear. Or sharing a bathroom despite the fact that there wasn’t any room to do so comfortably.
That was it, Fushimi realized, pulling back from the kiss slowly and opening his eyes. As Misaki’s face shifted back into focus, he felt he could place that contentment. It felt like belonging. Not quite like coming to terms with belonging at Scepter 4, but something more basic. Comfortable. Like home.
Well, it was probably about time to say something, anyway – it wouldn’t make any sense to put this off. Fushimi drew in a breath, deliberately squashing the irrational stirring of dread at the pit of his stomach. “I thought about what you said last time,” he started, slowly. “About moving in.”
He heard the swift intake of breath even before he noticed Misaki’s eyes widening; it was possible to see the muscles in his throat move as he swallowed. “Yeah?”
At least I’m not the only one feeling anxious about this. Fushimi resisted the urge to click his tongue out of habit. “How do you feel about doing it gradually?”
Misaki’s brow furrowed. “’Gradually’?” he repeated. “What d’you mean?”
“I could move the rest of my things into your place,” Fushimi explained, keeping his voice deliberately dry and even. It was irritating how uneasy he felt about this, but it couldn’t be helped. There was nothing else to do but forge on. “But I want to keep this apartment.”
The frown on Misaki’s face deepened as he considered that. After a moment of silence, he said, slowly, “So… you’re saying you want a back-up.” His gaze was direct. “Like a trial run or something. Right?”
“That’s one way to put it.” It came out in a drawl, but Fushimi forced himself to continue to meet those straightforward eyes squarely.
Is he going to be offended? In the cynical part of his brain, he thought he could see the fight play out already.
Then Misaki took in a breath, and let it out in a rush, his shoulders seeming to slump. “Man! That’s a huge relief!” His face lit up with a grin, eyes bright again. “I thought you were gonna tell me we had to move one thing over every month or something! Seriously, don’t scare me like that, Saruhiko!”
It was such a typical reaction that he felt like he shouldn’t have been surprised, but Fushimi still blinked in response. “You’re okay with it?”
“Hell yeah, I’m okay with it!” Misaki beamed at him, unmasked enthusiasm seeming to radiate from him. “This is gonna be awesome! No more back and forth – just one place, with all of our stuff, and we’ll both have keys and all…” He paused, seeming to think for a brief second, and then continued on with, “At some point, we gotta get a bigger place, though, right? I mean, there’s two of us.”
“You don’t say.” It came out dry, but Fushimi couldn’t help but smile faintly. It felt like the instinctual dread that had coiled into a cold ball in his stomach had been softened and quieted with this reaction. “Let’s see how things go before talking about that, hm?”
“Yeah, yeah, I get it.” Even the initial sarcasm didn’t seem to dim Misaki’s mood. “So? When d’you wanna start moving your shit? Pretty sure I could get some of my friends to help on short notice, like next week even if you’re cool with it – ”
Right, there was that to deal with, wasn’t there? Fushimi clicked his tongue, already predicting the headache. “I’ll think about it.”
“Right, okay.” Misaki accepted that easily, obviously still riding the high he’d gotten when Fushimi had accepted. He pushed himself up, stretching. “All right! Guess I’ll make us some breakfast, then!”
It was an impulsive decision – not like him at all, really – but somehow as Misaki pushed aside the covers, smiling like he’d never been happier in his life, ready to jump up and make them a breakfast for two, Fushimi found himself reaching out to hook an arm around his waist and anchor him.
“Eh? Sa… Saruhiko?”
A little tug was all it took to bring him back down to the bed. Without pausing to second guess it, Fushimi pushed himself up on his elbow and then rolled to cover Misaki’s body with his. “First things first,” he drawled, watching with satisfaction as an endearing flush rose on Misaki’s cheeks. “You don’t need to be so impatient.”
Heat was already building in their shared gaze even as he got the words out. “You coulda just said something, asshole,” Misaki muttered, but there was a smile in his eyes all the same.
When Fushimi ducked his head, the kiss was met partway.