His lips preyed upon his neck, playing like hands to a piano, his fingers gingerly tracing the curvatures of his stomach, sliding dangerously towards the waistband of his boxers. Shigeo's face was burning, but that was nothing to the utter lack of oxygen entering his system. His ragged, desperate breaths made it easier for him to shudder, but harder to keep his mouth shut.
Static raced up and down his spine, an indecisive surge of electricity with no clear destination, as he arched forward, succumbing to the cold skin invading every nook and cranny of his being. His mind was a blurred concoction of thoughts assembled midway, his face burning a marvelous shade of crimson from embarrassment.
He wondered what kind of face he was making, and he wondered how practiced the hands exploring him, and the tongue examining him were. How incredible, Shigeo found himself musing, that a single person would be capable of reaping moans and horribly humiliating gasps from his throat.
And for a moment, Reigen tensed, his hand drawing nondescript circles on the fabric over his stomach, in perfect sync with the withdrawal of his lips from Shigeo’s neck, eyes drifting downwards. “Oh?” the older male began, his tone gone from suggestive to ludic.
“Y-you stopped,” Shigeo pointed out as though it hadn’t been obvious enough, swallowing down a gob in his throat with his breaths beginning to deepen. His gaze followed Reigen’s line of sight, making it just in time to catch his boyfriend lifting the hem of his shirt up to his chest. The younger male’s heart hastened into agitation, butchering solid sentences into stutters. “Wh-what are you - ?”
I should have taken a shower first, after all?
“Your stomach,” Reigen spoke, his lips upturned into a sly grin, “wasn’t shaped the way I thought it would be.”
“Eh? What were you expecting?”
“A six-pack, probably.”
Reigen barked into laughs, presumably amused by the look on Shigeo’s face (whatever that looked like, the boy would never really know, but that made it all the more mortifying), only to calm down five seconds later and descend back into normal speech. “No, no, I think I’d be really jealous if you had one of those!”
Shigeo gave himself a once over, scanning the muscles he’d shaped over years of daily exercise and jogs. His biceps would never pass as bulky, and the curves down the insides of his legs were almost non-existent. In fact, Shigeo was lean even for what others dubbed as an athletic body. How his master had expected his abdomen to be seemed far more than a dream, and anyone could have guessed there wasn’t anything special about it just by a single offhanded glance.
“Do you think I should work out more, then, Master?” asked Shigeo softly. If he was never going to be the perfect lover for him, he was sure he would never really move on from a break-up so traumatic, and cutting ties with Reigen was never in his plans either. The only choices he was provided were to become the best significant other, or to leave.
Shigeo wasn’t taking the latter for an answer.
“I didn’t fall in love with you because of how you looked, you know.” Reigen fell quiet, using up all of his silent seconds staring back at Shigeo, the burning in his gaze palpable in the air. “Although,” he paused to peck his lover’s abdomen, planting a kiss right above the belly button, sending an onslaught of tingles down Shigeo’s lower half when he lifted his gaze to lock eyes again, “I think you’re perfect just the way you are.”
Shigeo could feel the layer of tears glossing over his eyes.
He was right.
He definitely wasn’t taking “leave” for an answer.
The burning in his chest approved of it.
“By the way, Mob - ”
Reigen licked his lips with an avid tongue. “It’s Arataka, for you.”
Shigeo had forced his eyes to open in the fear of wetting the bed. Another one.
It wasn't the first time he'd ever had a wet dream, but all the same, Shigeo woke up to shallow and ragged breaths, his lungs far from catching up to the beating of his heart. His lower regions were warm - dare he say, hot - and he could feel the blood from his systems rushing to the member encompassed in his boxers in swift courses through his veins. Shigeo's eyes were lost in the white ceiling, his face of vanilla pallor; he wasn't even going to pretend how profusely he'd been sweating.
“ God ,” he whispered under his breath, twisting slowly to his right to relieve the stiffness underneath the covers. No way was he ever going to reach down to help it, especially not after that dream. Who knew what he could have done to the man beside him? He decided to wait it out. Not that he had a choice. He couldn't ask Reigen to do anything; he would rather die with an erection than die in humiliation for waking and asking his boyfriend to tend to his silent wanting.
Shigeo studied the back of Reigen's head, eyes examining every tuft that glowed in the morning light pouring through the blinds, admiring the dazzling gold that made him want to close his eyes and drift back to sleep. He loved the mornings - usually the ones when he didn't wake up from dreams that showed him just how filthy he was - if that meant he got to wake up to a sleeping Reigen next to him.
Shame, though. He just had to toss towards the wall, his back to Shigeo. He couldn't see his face, nor admire his relaxed features in the honeycomb lighting, but he supposed he was lucky enough to not have found that sight before him that early.
His mind replayed the dream at the silent wish of seeing Reigen’s sleeping face, and Shigeo curled into a ball back under the duvet as his skin began to burn a deep shade of red. He wished wet dreams disappeared as quick as his nightmares did. He was fortunate enough to not have found Reigen awake, or that could have meant hell for him.
What would he have replied if Reigen inquired about the reason of him being unable to leave the bed?
Shigeo considered rolling off, escaping from Reigen's vicinity and fleeing to the bathroom, but he thought that would only risk the possibilities of Reigen staying asleep. Hence, he remained glued to the mattress, trying to convince himself that his morning wood (Shigeo was desperate over believing he was far from aroused) would be gone in two minutes at best as it usually did, hoping Reigen would cease to wake up the whole duration or that would put all waiting to waste.
Still, thought Shigeo, groggily rubbing an eye as he clicked his tongue, I wish he finished what he started.
Not that Shigeo was more than certain, but at the back of his mind recurred a voice saying all his wet dreams had branched out from what had actually happened, and somehow the same memory was haunting his dreams almost every night. Shigeo would look down at himself, scan the places his master had explored with his hands, grow a little heated from his thoughts, and a little aggravated in reprimanding himself for such want.
After all, his imagination was allowed to run free - Reigen had left him midway when Shigeo’s anticipation was cranked up to its highest intensity, but had never really done anything beyond pecking his stomach, and the latter had only been executed once.
What kept haunting him in his sleep had happened two weeks ago. It's been that long, and Reigen had shown zero signs of ever repeating the events engraved in Shigeo's mind. How infuriating it was just by thinking about it, but Shigeo couldn't do anything. He couldn't ask Reigen to tend to his sexual wants as he’d continually reiterated. It was as if he'd lost the chance to do so fifteen days back.
Not that he's ever thought of doing anything about it. Shigeo was content spending time with him and little did it matter to him whether his wishes were to come true or not. The bottomline was they were together, having no intention of severing their ties. Shigeo wanted to make sure Reigen wasn't his first , he wanted to secure that Reigen was his only.
Still, he couldn’t help but think there was a palpable reluctance Reigen had tried to shove down when he was touching him. He was too afraid to inquire. There was a part of him that didn’t want to know at all.
Shigeo hadn’t realized he was nuzzling his face against Reigen’s hair until the older male tensed his shoulders and shifted his position. Did I move on impulse? Shigeo pondered, withdrawing his head. Had I fallen back asleep?
Reigen rolled over to face him. His disheveled mien made him look more lethargic than not; his eyes screamed a torpid haze that blanketed over half the dark orbs his heavy lids could reveal. The next full seconds were warmer, with their breaths splayed against each other’s skin given the little to no distance between their noses, as both had quietly spoken through their locked gazes.
“Good morning,” Reigen spoke in an undertone, his voice husky from a good ten hours of silence and possible snoring neither had heard. Shigeo had an unspoken weakness for Reigen’s morning voice, from the way it would crack on occasion against his will, to the manner he would try to avoid minding it. Staying over for the night only meant he’d have the highlight of his day pummelling for the kill hours too early. If only he could stay in Reigen’s apartment with him permanently, he probably would die from a heart attack on a daily basis.
“Good morning, Master.”
His eyes closed in perfect sync with the furrow of his eyebrows. “A-ra-ta-ka,” he urged, stressing on every syllable of his given name. “We’re alone, so it’s fine.”
Shigeo stuttered out an apology before adding on, “I’ll get used to it. I-I promise.”
Arataka sighed through his nostrils, leaving Shigeo to watch as his features relaxed, the wrinkles that fell between his brows disappeared. His boyfriend’s eyes fluttered open the moment his lips began to draw closer and closer…
...and stopped a hairbreadth away from colliding into Shigeo’s.
Instead, Arataka cupped the younger male’s chin and pulled it south, granting himself ease as so he could press a quick kiss to Shigeo’s forehead before retreating into his initial position, but only this time, allowed himself to close the gap between their noses. Arataka’s lips quirked into a smirk as his half-lidded eyes ignited the blood in Shigeo’s face. Annoyingly, teasingly so. “What’s wrong?” he jeered softly. “Thought I was aiming for the lips, weren’t you?”
“N-not at all,” Shigeo stumbled over his words. Who wouldn’t have thought that in my situation? He could feel the heat rise from his torso to his neck, navigating its way to intercept what already had been burning on his face. Not that he disliked being tricked that way, but he most certainly didn’t like it either. Reigen Arataka might as well have been the world’s craftiest jerk there was to exist, if only he wasn’t Shigeo’s favorite human.
His heart couldn’t rest inside his chest - he felt as though it would one day break through his ribs in an enthusiasm that made it look like it was searching for the One Piece. Arataka entangling his legs with his hadn’t done anything to slow it down, and as if it wasn’t embarrassing enough, the pounding from his upper body might as well have made the bed thrum in its agitation. Shigeo cursed the idea of Arataka hearing how fast it had raced. That was basically feeding him material he could tease him for.
“You’re making quite a face though.” Arataka’s thumb brushed the corner of his lips, sending a wave of static down Shigeo’s spine from the renewed skin contact. The only thing he could ever be thankful for was the fact that his body hadn’t gone betraying him by letting out a whimper. To Shigeo, ‘whimper’ was a varying spelling of ‘humiliation.’ “Someone’s awfully red. Might want to tell me the reason, Mob-kun?”
It was probably just him, but Shigeo felt as though the bed was burning beneath the two of them when the younger male couldn’t find the words to reply. Arataka’s grin widened - and the man had no intention of hiding that whatsoever - as he added on: “Three.”