If anything, things were hotter than ever between them.
It hadn't started that way – in the immediate aftermath of their impulsive “session” against the kitchen counter, the period of satiation had felt almost invigorating. They'd flown out and found another charging point before going to bed even, and things felt refreshingly comfortable between them. No awkwardness or anything. Even Fushimi's usual biting remarks felt softened up by the mutual orgasms somehow; either he'd loosened up and become less of a dick or Yata had relaxed enough to let it roll off his back more easily.
Come to think of it, though, he'd started getting used to them even before they'd blown off all that tension. Fushimi wouldn't be Fushimi if he wasn't being a pessimistic asshole, and to be honest... Yata didn't mind it any more. Sometimes it was even funny.
Either way, he'd been in a great mood when he'd flopped down onto his bed and had passed out almost immediately, sleeping soundly and feeling thoroughly pleased with himself.
... Until he'd woken the next morning with another raging hard-on and the memory of his dream-self vigorously riding dream-Fushimi still vivid in his mind. For a moment as he lay there, blinking owlishly at the ceiling, he was sure that he could feel the thick length pulsing within him – and the mental image of Fushimi's flushed, desperate face had his own cock twitching with interest.
That was the first time in years that he'd jerked himself off before getting out of bed, and there was no holding the fantasies back as he did. The imagined sensation of Fushimi squirming beneath and within him as he released brought Yata to orgasm, and even as he breathed heavily in the wake of it, he could still feel the underlying desire.
It wasn't enough. Not after last night.
Fushimi had been in the shower when Yata emerged warily from the room, which was kinda suspicious; they'd done that last night already, so there was no reason to do it again, other than... yeah. Another mental image to add to the growing collection. But, frustratingly, there wasn't even a trace of guilt on Fushimi's face when he came out.
Not that Yata had really been looking at his face - at least, not at first. He'd come out shirtless with a towel around his neck and stray droplets of water sliding down along his pale, defined collarbone. It was... distracting.
Once he'd managed to peel his eyes from that tantalizing line of moisture and up to meet Fushimi's gaze, he'd gotten a smirk and a lidded gaze for his trouble. “Where are you looking, Misaki?”
The drawling tone had brought him right back to last night, when that name had been mumbled breathily against his skin, and Yata could feel prickling heat rising right up the back of his neck. “Where the fuck do you think?” he'd managed to snark back, pulling a scowl against the embarrassment, and retreated into the bathroom so he could slam the door shut against Fushimi's amused huff.
No doubt about it: last night had made everything several hundred times more intense between them. It was like a floodgate had been opened or something.
Honestly, he should've known. Goddamnit...
It only got worse throughout the day. As hard as Yata tried to ignore it and play it cool, he could feel it every time Fushimi's gaze was on him; every time they so much as brushed up against each other; every time their eyes met. There was a kind of building energy that he couldn't deny. Last night had kicked things into motion between them, and now that they'd picked up that momentum, there was probably no stopping it.
He wasn't even sure if he wanted to – hell, it had felt great and they more or less understood each other, so why not kick it up a notch? But the pace and intensity bugged him. Things were moving really fast all of us a sudden, and he wasn't sure he trusted himself not to make stupid decisions in the heat of the moment.
Fucking Fushimi in the first place was probably a stupid decision actually, but that bridge was already crossed, and he was heading straight for 'don't give a shit' territory at an alarming speed.
It was clear again that day, allowing them to pick up another charge for the moonstone, and as the sun set and the moon rose, one of the contributing factors behind that furiously mounting tension became clear.
That night was the full moon.
Yata could feel the familiar surge in his blood before it was even visible in the sky; honestly, if he hadn't been so fixated on Fushimi, he'd have noticed way before. All of his senses were heightened with the influx of energy and power. He could feel it buzzing beneath his skin like electricity, intoxicating and fluid.
On this particular night, it always felt like he could do anything. No limits.
Glancing up over his dinner at Fushimi, who sat across the table frowning at his laptop, Yata was struck by the sudden thought that sex during the full moon would be fucking amazing.
It was probably the helpless little rush of lustful anticipation that had Fushimi glancing up at him, one slender eyebrow raising in inquiry. “What?”
Yata jerked his gaze back down to his meal, frowning as he forcefully repressed the thought and reaction. “Nothing!” he responded, voice harsher than he'd intended, and hastily began to shovel down his food.
He could feel Fushimi's eyes on him, but aside from what sounded like an impatient sigh, there was no comment.
The moonlight felt like a physical touch against his bare skin when they flew out; a seductive caress, as if to entice him into giving in to the flurry of confusing urges that flooded his body. It was almost overwhelming, and Yata had to close his eyes against the rush a few times during the flight.
He'd more or less adjusted to it – didn't have much of a choice, since it had always been like that – but the light of the full moon always brought out feelings he had trouble processing. It made him feel like there was too much power in his body for his puny human soul to manage. Every little whim and desire felt like a demand; his base instincts couldn't understand why his brain didn't want him to indulge everything. You can do whatever you want, they seemed to whisper. Anything could be yours if you want it. Do it... take it...
Shutting his eyes again, Yata breathed out slowly. No sleep tonight, huh?
It was normal. Too much adrenaline. Maybe Fushimi would be cool with hunting down more charging points – or even just circling the city. Anything, really. It usually helped to fly during the full moon; he could expend some of that excess energy, reducing the urges back to a kind of dull longing at the back of his head.
Then again, being around Fushimi was way more likely to excite longing than dull it...
That thought had barely occurred to him when they reached their target; even before landing, he could feel the strengthened flow of moonlight and just about fumbled and crashed before recovering his equilibrium. His veins seemed to sing, vibrating under his flesh in response to that brilliant, blinding glow.
“Are you going to be able to manage?” Fushimi's voice cut into that pleasant haze drily. When Yata turned his head, he got another raised eyebrow. “This is going to be a pain if you end up spacing out like that.”
That was enough to bring sharp clarity back to the front of his mind. Yata scowled back. “It's not that bad, c'mon.”
A second eyebrow joined the first. “If you say so.” Still, Fushimi reached into his pocket to draw out the sunstone.
It was like a moment from some cheesy ass movie; everything seemed to slow and focus intently on that one motion. Yata found his eyes drawn to those slender, dexterous fingers as they dove into the fabric and emerged, delicately lifting the stone free before curling and turning deftly as they lifted and opened to the moonlight.
Those fingers had been on him last night, holding his hips, undoing his fly, squeezing and stroking his balls and cock...
“Fuck,” Yata muttered under his breath, gritting his teeth as he forcefully turned his gaze aside. The abrupt and unexpected surge of arousal had caught him off guard, nearly taking his breath away with its ferocity.
Fushimi made a soft, amused noise. "I'm fine with it if you are," he drawled.
That was way more tempting than it should've been; Yata swallowed back the little burst of anticipation. “Yeah, yeah,” he grumbled, deliberately moving to the other side of the roof – a high rise with a spectacular view that he could barely focus on - and slumping down to a seat against the low wall. “Bite me.”
“I already covered that last night.”
The reminder had him swallowing again hard, and he had to physically restrain himself from reaching up to brush his fingers over the mark. It was stark against his skin, though he'd been able to cover it up no problem with a T-shirt.
He'd fucking liked it when Fushimi had done it, though. A lot. More than he would've expected.
“Well,” Fushimi drawled, moving to sit a short ways from him, “I don't mind repeating it if that's what you want.”
Tempting. Seriously tempting. Yata sucked in a breath, letting it out in a sharp rush and deliberately not turning his head. He could already picture Fushimi's face clearly, eyes dark and lidded with his thin lips curled in a smirk, and he thought he might lose it if he saw the real thing.
I fucking want him so bad... He wasn't even sure why he was holding back, other than to make sure they got the charge done first. Last night he'd let go of his inhibitions and it had been incredible. But still... there was something...
The sharp click of Fushimi's tongue cut into that thought. “Seriously? Even after last night...” The irritation in that soft mumble was a stark contrast to the earlier teasing. “Are you doing this on purpose? Even I have limits, you know.”
“Huh?” At that, Yata was startled enough to turn and stare at him, perplexed. “The hell are you talking about?”
Fushimi was frowning, although it wasn't directed at Yata; his gaze was pointed in front of him, past the hand still holding the charging stone up. “In case you've forgotten, you're not the only one impacted when you let your emotions run wild,” he muttered. “Do you do this all the time? Building things up to a fever pitch and then slamming on the brakes? I can't see how anyone would find it entertaining, but if you have some sort of masochistic tendencies...”
“What the fuck?” Yata cut him off quickly, feeling heat rising fast across his face. “I’m not a masochist, goddamnit!” The little rush of gratification he’d gotten from the sting of that bite came back to him, but he hastily shoved it back down, moving on quickly. “Anyway, it's not like I can control it! Emotions just... y'know... they just happen!”
Fushimi clicked his tongue again, frown deepening. When he spoke again, it was in an even lower mumble, almost too quiet to hear. “I wouldn't know.”
Yata blinked, caught off guard by that admission. He couldn’t put his finger on what it was, but something about Fushimi’s tone and posture and expression tugged at him. He felt a little ache in his chest, and had to swallow before speaking again. “Wait... so... you don't have emotions, or...?”
“Are you being stupid on purpose?” The insult came with a snort, but the cutting tone that usually would’ve come with it was absent. “Of course I have them. But they’re not like yours are.” Another click of Fushimi's tongue followed; he tipped his head back and turned his gaze toward the sky. “I’ve never met anyone with emotions like yours. It’s like you take them to the edge of what they're capable of, and then keep pushing. It's excessive. And annoying. Especially at times like this.” Drawing in an audible breath, he added with obvious reluctance, “I don't... exactly dislike it.” As if irritated by that moment of honesty, he immediately clicked his tongue again and followed up with, “But seriously, you restrain yourself at the most inconvenient times. Doesn't it bother you?”
“Ah... oh.” The new information had Yata staring again, too stunned to think of an immediate response.
He knew it – of course he fucking knew it. That was a large part of what he'd been working on, after all. He was pretty damn aware that he was overly emotional, overly energetic, overly obnoxious and all the rest. He was really trying to learn restraint. And he was getting a hell of a lot better at not pushing things on other people. He was learning to understand others a bit more, and to not go with the knee-jerk reactions so much.
But yeah, emotions... They were always running wild, no matter what he did. He could control what he did about them, but controlling the feelings...
Fushimi shut his eyes, letting out a short sigh. “You’re apologizing for the wrong thing,” he said drily, and then tilted his head to the side, opening his eyes slowly to meet Yata's gaze. “The emotions aren't bad – if nothing else, they're proof that you're honest with yourself." A tiny, sardonic-looking smile spread on his lips. “Most of the time, anyway. It's the times when you aren't that are annoying. What makes you think it's a good idea to hold back when you've already taken things that far?”
'The emotions aren't bad.' Somehow, that seemed to resonate with something deep within him. Yata felt an ache rise at the back of his throat – the beginnings of an old hurt that had started when he was very young and amplified over the years. Kusanagi had said the same thing to him: that his emotions weren't bad, he just needed to learn restraint over his actions. But Kusanagi wasn't in his head and couldn't feel what Yata felt. So how would he know if those feelings were good or bad? Maybe they were abnormal. Maybe he was a freak.
Maybe his mom had thought the same, back then...
'I don't... exactly dislike it.’
And then there was that.
Fushimi was inside his head, feeling everything Yata felt... and he still said it.
It felt like too much. Yata dipped his head, the ache intensifying as an accompanying sting snuck in behind his eyes and caused his vision to blur. “Asshole,” he muttered, unable to keep the emotion from choking his voice and finding it hard to care. “Can't even say something nice without bitching, huh?”
There was a moment of sharp silence from beside him; when Yata gathered himself enough to look up, Fushimi was studying him with that vaguely bewildered look that he remembered from the café. It was touchingly unguarded, a perfect counterpart to the emotions raging within Yata’s chest. For that brief instant, he found his breath catching in his throat, mesmerized.
He’s really something, huh?
Once again, as soon as their eyes met, Fushimi blinked rapidly and looked away, all traces of the earlier vulnerability fading. “I didn't do it on purpose,” he mumbled, lips turning down in a frown again.
In the wake of that unguarded moment, the petulant response had Yata grinning again, a huff of a laugh escaping him helplessly. Not honest at all. “What, saying something nice or bitching?”
“Shut up,” Fushimi muttered back, sounding irritated.
“Yeah, yeah.” It was easier to let it go with the catharsis that seemed to spread across his chest and up through his head, clearing the air within him. Yata leaned his head back against the wall and breathed in deeply, allowing a comfortable silence to spread between them again.
He felt... light. Happy. Part of it was probably the moonlight amplifying everything, causing his nerves to sing with pleasure and his emotions to rise to intoxicating levels, but he didn't really care. He could’ve sat there on that cold hard roof for hours, if it meant feeling like this.
Because of that, it felt like almost no time at all had passed when he felt the little warning quiver in the sunstone that indicated it had nearly finished its charge. Already, huh? Without thinking, he shifted closer to Fushimi, reaching out to brush a finger over it. “This guy’s almost done, I think.”
“That was fast,” Fushimi murmured in response.
So it wasn't just him. “Yeah, probably the full moon.”
“I’ll take your word for it.”
The answer was so flippant that Yata looked up, fully intending to snark back, and found the words dying on his tongue before they could quite make it out.
Fushimi was close, nearly shoulder-to-shoulder with him, and he was gazing down at Yata intently, as if waiting for something. With the light of the full moon illuminating him, his pale skin seemed stark and his hair cast from shadow. His lids were low over his eyes again, but he wasn't smirking. Still, Yata couldn't help but trace the outline of those thin lips with his eyes, drawn by an impulse he couldn't fully control. The slender line of Fushimi's neck and the beginning of his collarbone were visible against the fabric of his shirt.
He was beautiful. Yata's throat felt dry just from looking, and his fingers itched. He could feel the phantom sensation of Fushimi’s face and hair beneath them, and it stopped his breath, chest constricting with sudden, almost overwhelming longing.
Fushimi drew in a breath, seeming unsteady. “Misaki,” he mumbled, drawing the name out again in a way that made Yata shudder involuntarily, “I told you before, I have limits. If you're going to pull back now...”
Something about that tone – maybe it was a hint of desperation – pushed Yata over the edge he'd been hovering around. “I got it,” he responded roughly and leaned in closer, giving in to the wild urges flooding his brain. “Not gonna.”
He felt the tremor in Fushimi's body as they came into contact, and couldn't be sure if he'd surged up or Fushimi had surged down. Maybe both. They met in the middle regardless, heads tilting to allow their mouths to meet hungrily.
They hadn't done this yesterday; somehow it was a shock to realize that they’d fucked without bothering to kiss first, but things had been kinda crazy at the time. Now, the initial contact was an overwhelmingly sweet blend of eager and awkward – a moment of stillness as they learned how they fit together before breaking just slightly. The damp heat of their mingled breath hung in the bare inch between them for just an instant before they reconnected, mouths moving to form the shape of the kiss.
The moonlight surging through Yata’s veins was just a pale echo of the pulsing in his chest at the contact. He couldn’t believe how incredible it felt to have Fushimi’s lips against his. It was crazy – Fushimi’s hand had been on his dick, and he’d had Fushimi’s come on his back, but it was this contact that felt more intimate and made his heart swell uncontrollably. Just the simple act of kissing, even without tongue.
‘Without tongue’ didn’t last long; neither of them was feeling particularly patient. Egged on by the seductive counterpart of the moon working its magic and the surge of emotion that came with the kiss, Yata made the first move, parting his lips just enough to allow his tongue room to slide out along the line of Fushimi’s mouth.
The response was immediate and satisfying; Fushimi made a soft, helpless-sounding noise and opened his mouth, the slick pressure of his tongue meeting Yata’s with matching enthusiasm. They fumbled with that for only a few seconds, adjusting to each other’s motions and momentum, breaking apart and coming back together with increasing urgency. Their breath was already growing frenzied and the contact between them gained more pressure as that sense of desperate desire intensified.
It had been ages since Yata had felt this: the hot, wet inside of someone else’s mouth under his tongue, responding eagerly to him. It was so good. And it was the full moon, and it was Fushimi…
He was already losing himself, body and mind drowning in want as the pleasurable contact continued, when the sudden trilling of the sunstone broke in through that haze, effectively shattering the mood.
Oh, right… that…
Yata pulled back with effort, forcing himself not to lean back in when Fushimi chased his lips. “Stone,” he managed to mumble, mouth feeling swollen and tender as he formed the word. His face and body felt warm, and there was a pleasurable, throbbing ache between his legs.
Fushimi stared back at him with incomprehension for a moment, eyes dark with lust behind the fog that had spread unevenly on his glasses. His face was flushed appealingly, lips plush from the force of the kiss, and looking at him made Yata’s heart ache, desire nearly overpowering everything else.
He was on the verge of deciding ‘fuck it’ and leaning back in when Fushimi’s gaze cleared. He clicked his tongue softly. “Again, huh?”
Right, that had happened last night too, hadn’t it? Yata felt a rueful smile spreading on his lips, a small trickle of clarity edging in through the haze over his thoughts. “Least it wasn’t before we fucking kissed this time.”
“That’s one point in its favor, I guess.” Fushimi shifted as he moved to put the stone in his pocket, forcing them to separate further.
The extra space brought another cold wave of clarity into the mix. Yata turned his head and leaned it back against the wall, shutting his eyes momentarily to absorb what had just happened. Maybe it was the full moon, but he felt the same thing as he had after the previous night: a complete lack of regret, and on top of that, satisfaction.
On top of that... he wanted more.
That thought had barely struck him, along with the full weight of the certainty and urgency behind it, when Fushimi let out a small huff beside him, sounding amused. “Should we go back?”
No question about whether they were taking this further; it was obvious at that point. Yata found himself grinning before he even turned to meet Fushimi’s eyes, his own going lidded without him even thinking about it, body tingling with the moonlight-enhanced anticipation. He felt that confidence and desire within him increase tenfold when met with the small, promising smile on Fushimi’s face and the intensity of his responding gaze. “You bet your ass we will!”
The flight back to his apartment was mostly a blur – a rush of exhilaration and mounting excitement. By the time they made it there, Yata was keyed up enough to grab Fushimi roughly by the arms before the door had shut completely behind them, leaning up to boldly snag another kiss.
It was fervently returned, a small pleased hum vibrating against his lips. They had to break apart briefly so Yata could kick off his shoes, but came back together open-mouthed and hungry as they stumbled inside. Fushimi’s shirt vanished somewhere in the process of backing towards Yata’s room, and Yata fumbled with the waistband of his shorts while trying to keep up the kiss. His back hit the wall next to his bedroom door by mistake just as they dropped to his ankles, but they didn’t bother to correct themselves immediately, pressing together instead.
Fushimi’s skin was warm beneath his hands, the firm reality of his half-naked body nearly setting Yata on fire internally. It felt just as incredible as he’d imagined: the pressure and friction of bare flesh against his own, the light touch of slender fingers over his sides and the small of his back, the flex of back and shoulder muscles under the pads of his own fingers... And of course, the unmistakable press of Fushimi’s hard, clothed erection grinding against his hip. He thrust forward mindlessly and caught friction from Fushimi’s leg against his own aching cock, tearing a moan from his throat as sensation washed over him.
So. Fucking. Good.
They broke apart again – reluctantly – to readjust, breathing heavily, fingers clenching hard against each other’s bodies. Yata had to restrain himself forcefully from chasing his orgasm right then and there. He didn’t want to come until Fushimi was inside him; it was gonna be fucking amazing after all this teasing, and if he blew it beforehand it wouldn’t be the same. But damn, he felt ready to lose it, gazing at Fushimi’s flushed face and catching the desperate gleam in his eyes behind his skewed glasses. He was so turned on it hurt.
In a good way, though – knowing what was coming made all the difference.
Yata could feel the breathless grin spreading on his face even as the answering smirk on Fushimi’s started; on a whim, he freed a hand to reach up and slide the glasses off carefully. “These real or illusion?”
Fushimi squinted at him briefly, then tipped his head, materializing a new set. “Those ones are real.”
The laugh that bubbled up in response was involuntary. “You fucking dick. Take ‘em off.”
“No.” Fushimi leaned in to swallow his protest with an insistent kiss; when they broke apart again, it was only by inches. “I want to see everything,” he murmured, sliding a hand from Yata’s back to reach up and take the real set of glasses from him. “Show me all of your reactions, Misaki.”
Those words seemed to burn within him; Yata felt a little shiver of arousal work its way through his body in immediate response. “Same to you,” he responded, voice coming out rough and throaty. The hand he’d left braced on Fushimi’s bare upper arm clenched hard enough to bruise; he had the feverish thought that he wanted to leave a mark right there, right in this moment.
Fushimi made another of those low, pleased noises in response, leaning in to meet Yata halfway in another urgent kiss. They were becoming more familiar with each other’s bodies already, mouths connecting with ease as they pressed into each other. Yata reached down to fumble with the waistband of Fushimi’s pants before he could forget the end goal again. “These… these are… real, right?” he managed to mumble in between heated kisses.
“Mm,” was Fushimi’s half-hearted positive response – barely a thrum against Yata’s lips. He reached down to help with his free hand as Yata got the fastenings undone and tugged the clothing down off his hips.
He was expecting more fabric beneath, so it caught him off-guard when Fushimi’s cock sprang free as his pants were lowered, flushed and fully hard against the thatch of dark hair around it. Yata’s skin prickled at the sight, a mingling of surprise and arousal, and he couldn’t help but stare for a moment, pausing the flow of heated kisses. “Wait… you… you don’t wear any…?”
Fushimi sighed, kicking his pants off as he leaned in to mouth the corner of Yata’s jaw instead. “I do,” he mumbled against the sensitive skin, breath hot and enticing. One of his legs wormed between Yata’s, creating more of that delicious friction from before. “They’re just not real.”
“Hah…” The word came out breathless; Yata instinctively tilted his head to allow for more of that pleasant touch, grinding back against Fushimi with enthusiasm. He slid his hands around to run them over the small of Fushimi’s back and down along the fleshy curve of his ass, squeezing hard and reveling in the sharp exhalation against his jaw. “Do you just… ah, fuck” – Fushimi’s tongue ran along the length of his neck, hot and slick and purposeful – “do you just get a uniform of… mm… pants and boots… or something?”
He felt the reverberation of laughter against his skin. “Something like that,” Fushimi murmured, lifting his face again to capture Yata’s lips – a gesture that Yata enthusiastically responded to.
They disengaged after only a moment or so more, reaching the limits of where they could extend the heated foreplay before passing the tipping point that would lead to an inevitable climax. Not that Yata would’ve been entirely opposed to Fushimi fucking him up against his apartment wall, noise complaints from his neighbors aside, but it was going to be more comfortable in his bedroom, and that was where his lube and condoms were, so… “Bed?”
They had to separate at least a bit to get away from the wall and into the room, so Yata took the opportunity to slide his underwear down past his hips as Fushimi set his glasses down on the bedside table, tugging the drawer open as he did to expose the contents. He didn’t immediately grab for anything inside, instead opting to hastily return to the kiss – like he was worried the opportunity would be snatched away if he didn’t keep up contact.
As if I’d stop at this point. Yata’s body was taut with arousal and he could still feel the moonlight surging around in his veins. It felt like he’d fly apart if they didn’t fuck now.
With that thought in mind, he let himself fall back onto the bed, tugging Fushimi along with him and eliciting a startled ‘oof’ as they collided. “So impatient,” Fushimi muttered, clicking his tongue – but he was smiling still, eyes catching the pale light streaming in through the window as they shifted into a better position and he could brace himself above Yata.
He was fucking stunning. For a moment, Yata almost couldn’t breathe, captivated by the sight of that beautiful face and the expanse of pale skin exposed beyond it. He reached out almost tentatively to brush his fingers along the line of Fushimi’s cheekbone and then down, tracing the shape of his jaw and catching on the rough evidence of closely shaved stubble.
It was fascinating to watch Fushimi’s eyes close briefly, hear the audible shudder in his intake of breath in response to the touch. “Misaki,” he murmured, opening his eyes only a fraction to offer back one of those heated looks.
His blood felt like it was boiling. Yata swallowed hard, fingers trembling, and lowered his hand to brace it on Fushimi’s shoulder as he hooked his legs loosely around those slim hips. It didn’t quite bring their erections into contact, but he could feel the heat gathering fast in the space between them, and his anticipation rose to a fever pitch.
“Hm.” Fushimi leaned forward, almost enough to bring their faces together again, a tiny smirk curling on his lips. “Do you want me to fuck you, Misaki?”
Isn’t that obvious? Still, the question was enough to send a little buzz of excitement through him. “… You already know the answer to that, huh?”
He got back a little hum of acknowledgement, but Fushimi didn’t budge. “I want to hear you say it.”
Seriously… Well, he was past the point of any embarrassment. Yata returned the smirk, letting his eyes go to half-mast. “I want you to fuck me,” he responded, keeping his voice low and throaty – and giving Fushimi’s shoulder a little squeeze for good measure. At the last minute, he impulsively added in a drawn-out tone, “Saruhiko.”
The full-body shudder he got in response was thoroughly satisfying. Fushimi’s eyes seemed to soften and grow dark with lust, and then he was leaning down, closing the distance between them again with a desperate kiss.
The shift in position brought their dicks into contact briefly – just a light brush, but it felt like a jolt considering how hypersensitive Yata was feeling already. He moaned a little against Fushimi’s lips and felt the answering thrum almost immediately.
Then Fushimi was pulling back again, with obvious reluctance. He sat back on his heels to free his hands and reached into Yata’s drawer, retrieving the half-empty bottle of lube and a string of condoms. Setting the bottle down first, he separated one packet and tore it open. As Yata watched hungrily, he rolled the condom deftly over his flushed erection before retrieving the bottle and dribbling a generous amount of lube onto his fingers.
Their eyes met. “Ready?” Fushimi murmured, dropping his fingers to the space just behind Yata’s balls and massaging lightly.
The proximity to where he really wanted to be touched was almost maddening. Yata squirmed, drawing in a breath. “Don’t fucking tease me.”
“If you say so.” The questing finger slid back, finding the puckered hole at the base of Yata’s ass and dipping inside.
Fuck, there it was. Yata let out the breath shakily. The initial sting was so damn gratifying somehow. He spread his knees further to allow better access, heels still hooked together behind Fushimi’s back.
Taking the cue, Fushimi added a second finger, pressing both all the way inside and back out before scissoring them on the next thrust. Yata sucked in another breath through his teeth, adjusting. It stung a bit more, but not unbearably so.
“You’re tight,” Fushimi observed, withdrawing his fingers after a few more strokes. “I guess you really haven’t done it in a while, huh?”
Yata scowled up at his lazily smirking face. “Thanks for the reminder, asshole.” The breath left his lungs again immediately after he’d gotten the response out as Fushimi pushed three fingers up inside him. More out of shock and pleasure than pain, though there was some of that.
The friction felt damn good – it had been way too long.
“Interesting choice of insult,” Fushimi drawled, “considering the situation.” When Yata offered him a half-hearted glare, he lowered his lids, smirk widening as his fingers flexed enticingly. “Want me to take it easy on you?”
Oh, fuck no. Yata grinned back, showing teeth. “I’ll fucking kill you.”
“I wonder about that…” Fushimi bent his fingers, pressing them in as far as they’d go, his eyes intent despite the lazy expression. The questing struck that familiar sweet spot, sending a jolt of throbbing pleasure up Yata’s spine, and he couldn’t help but arch his back, letting out an involuntary moan as his body stiffened. “You’d lose your chance to finally get laid if you did.”
Yata shot him a disgruntled look, too drunk on the heady shot of pleasure to be properly angry. “Fuck you.”
“Mm.” Fushimi pulled his fingers back, pouring more lube onto his hand and swiftly coating his dick. “Another time, maybe,” he murmured, raising Yata’s ass into his lap and positioning himself.
The unexpected innuendo brought out another little spike of surprised arousal – despite his preference, yeah, sometimes he did like to be the one doing the fucking – but it was quickly overwhelmed by sensation as Fushimi pushed forward. His cock penetrated the ring of resistance slowly, allowing for the initial sting to pass as Yata clenched his teeth and made an effort to relax his tense body. Fushimi was thick and hard, and it had been a while, but the pain felt deeply satisfying when it came with that slick glide deep inside him. Yata let out his breath slowly, taking it all in. He could come right then and there if he reached down and gave his cock a tug or two. It was that good.
The sting was already subsiding by the time Fushimi buried himself to the hilt. He made a low noise, not quite a moan, and reached under Yata’s legs to grip his hips with both hands, bending forward so he was nearly draped over Yata’s body. His face was flushed with pleasure, lips parted sensuously and pupils blown wide when their eyes met. “You feel so good,” he mumbled, tone unsteady. “So good, Misaki…”
“Fuck.” That voice was gonna be his undoing. Yata’s cock gave a little twinge of pleasure, and he growled under his breath, too aroused to be patient. “Move, goddamnit – fuck me – come on – ”
Fushimi didn’t seem to require any more invitation than that; his fingers tightened almost painfully just before he pulled out and pushed back in languidly, drawing moans from both of them with the pleasurable friction. With another throaty noise that was almost a match for Yata’s growl, he snapped his hips back and forward again, beginning to thrust in earnest.
That was it. Yata didn’t bother to try and hold in his voice, hands clenching into fists against the bed and heels pressing into Fushimi’s upper back as he was fucked the way he’d been craving. As promised, Fushimi wasn’t going easy on him, and the unrestrained pace was only matched in pleasure by the depth of the penetration each time. It was like he knew exactly how Yata liked it best, filling him completely without brushing his sweet spot for the early spike of pleasure. Drawing it out; making the sensation last as long as possible, until they both couldn’t stand it anymore.
The fucking best… Fragmented as his thoughts had become, that one still managed to float to the front of Yata’s mind, repeating over and over as he lost himself in sensation.
All too quickly, that point of no return approached; Yata could feel the tension of impending orgasm mounting fast in his groin and managed to gasp out a rough, “Coming!” between helpless gasps.
Fushimi let out a low whimper, expression almost frenzied, but he tilted Yata’s hips further and changed his angle, thrusting a couple times more before…
Sparks seemed to fly at the corners of Yata’s vision as that telltale spike of pleasure so sweet it bordered on pain wracked through him; without warning, his body was stiffening and he was coming hard, the sensation of release pulsating through him in heady waves as he cried out and arched against the mattress.
He was still in the throes of it when he felt Fushimi tense and shake, cock twitching within Yata’s clenching ass as he let out a long, low moan and came.
The sensation drew another violent, pleasurable shudder from Yata’s body, and then he slumped back against the bed, breathing hard. Moonlight bathed the side of his face, amplifying the satiation from his recent orgasm and revitalizing him, even as Fushimi’s weight fell over him, bending Yata’s body without bothering to withdraw his cock just yet. His nose nuzzled the underside of Yata’s jaw, a low noise escaping him as he relaxed.
Damn… Yata took in a breath and blew it out slowly, still a little stunned. That was fucking amazing. He’d never had sex like that before. He raised his hands almost tentatively and ran them through Fushimi’s hair, unsure what else to do in the moment. His brain hadn’t quite pulled itself together yet, but he felt a sudden need to touch somehow, establishing a softer connection.
Fushimi let out a little hum, and Yata felt it as his lips spread in a smirk. “Don’t relax too much,” he murmured, and lifted his head just enough to bring it above Yata’s again. “We’re just getting started, Misaki.”
Yata blinked, a little taken aback. The expression that met his was soft and lazy, but it had a definite edge of promise to it. His heart did a little jump in his chest at the sight, skin prickling. Another round? It wasn’t unappealing, despite his post-orgasm lethargy. He had a lot of energy, and there was a full moon. Tired as it was, he could feel his body starting to take interest again, too. “Yeah, okay, but I’m gonna need a few – ”
“You know,” Fushimi cut him off, voice drawling out, “demons have a certain amount of control over the energy we take in. Since it’s sustenance for us, it’s smarter to store any excess for emergencies. Among other things.” He leaned in even further, lips brushing Yata’s as he spoke again. “And one of the benefits of a contract is…”
That sentence was left hanging as he pressed in with an unexpected kiss, insistent and fierce. Caught up in the mood, Yata responded automatically – and then gasped against Fushimi’s mouth as he felt energy flood his body, faster and wilder than the moon’s light. His dick, which had softened to about half-mast, began to stiffen with anticipation. Within him, Fushimi’s cock stirred as well, growing hard.
“… being able to share that energy,” Fushimi continued, voice growing low and just a bit breathless, “in creative ways.” He shut his eyes as if savoring the moment, shifting against and inside Yata.
The sensation of being filled again so soon after orgasm had him arching against the bed, fingers clenching instinctively in Fushimi’s hair and a little whine escaping him as his overly sensitive body was stimulated again. Above him, Fushimi made a soft, appreciative noise and began to thrust again, his pace slow and sensual this time.
It was hard to even think, much less form words; the combination of bliss from his recent orgasm and the influx of arousal and pleasure from their current actions made him feel like he was overloading. “You,” Yata managed to growl out, breathless and desperate, “fucking…”
He was cut off with his own uncontrolled moan as Fushimi drove into his body again, clutching at the dark strands of hair in his hands as he was flooded with sensation. The remaining thoughts fractured and he forgot what he was going to say, heels digging into Fushimi’s back with helpless delight as he lost himself to the pleasure and the dual stimulation of demonic and moon-soaked energy.
Fushimi was in no better shape than he was, flushed and panting with his lips parted appealingly, little noises escaping him as he moved deliciously within Yata. Every little motion they made seemed to drive them both mad; Yata felt wild and untamable, chasing his next orgasm without any shame or restrain, and Fushimi whimpered above him, slim muscles tensing with each thrust.
It was slower but far more intense than the first round, and by the end they muffled their cries into each other’s mouths in a sloppy, fierce kiss, convulsing on the bed together as they came almost in tandem, pushed to the limits of that blinding pleasure.
When the final shudders had passed through his body, Yata felt his arms and legs finally give out, flopping to the side like dead weight as he focused on breathing. His vision was lined with tiny pinpricks of light, and he still wasn’t quite thinking straight.
His body felt fucking amazing, satisfaction extending even to the tips of his fingers and toes, and he was pretty sure he could’ve laid there in mindless bliss for hours.
Fushimi kissed him one last time, heavy and clumsy against his lips, and then pulled back with obvious effort, grunting as he extracted his cock from Yata’s ass with his fingers pinched around the sides to retrieve the condom along with it. “I think this thing is at its limit,” he observed in a weary-sounding mumble, quickly tying it off and tossing it carelessly at Yata’s garbage bin.
That at least gave him something to focus on. Yata managed a tired grin in return. “Yeah, that shit isn’t really made for demons, y’know?”
Fushimi lowered his eyelids, smirking in response. “It’s a good thing you have a lot of them then, isn’t it?” he drawled back, reaching out to brush his fingers down along the line between Yata’s ribs, pausing just before he reached the mess pooled on his abdomen.
The touch wasn’t an innocent one. Again, huh? Yata couldn’t imagine it in that moment, putting his thoroughly spent body through another cycle of that maddening sensation.
… But then again, that was part of the fun, wasn’t it? He couldn’t deny how good it felt. And he’d never tested his body’s limits before in this kind of situation. Even outside of the curiosity, he had to admit that he wanted to experience it – to feel every second of getting all the way to that edge.
The moon’s energy was still passing fiercely through his veins, but more than that, it was the prospect of the challenge – and the pleasure it promised – that had Yata forcing his trembling arms into motion, propping himself up enough to twist and reach into the open drawer for another condom. He returned Fushimi’s smirk as he held it up.
“I’ll buy more tomorrow.”