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The Weight of Gold

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The sight of his front door had never been more welcome. After fumbling for his keys for a minute only to realize they’d been in his hand the entire time, Yu forced the right key in and slid the door open, greeted by the cool air-conditioned and lamp-lit space of his living room.

“I’m home,” he managed to groan.

He set his briefcase down and slipped off his shoes, too tired to slip off his jacket. He was also too tired to grab a drink from the fridge, so he passed the kitchen and trudged on socked feet across the room to finally collapse on the sofa. The soft cushions enveloped his sore back and shoulders, his stiff neck. He would have drifted off right there if the sounds of footsteps creaking on the staircase hadn’t stirred his ears.

Yosuke, not nearly as tired as Yu clearly was, trotted down the stairs with his arms full of a basket of laundry. Yu could hear the music in his headphones blaring from here. He couldn’t help but smile fondly at the sight of him outfitted in his most comfortable night-in clothes:  a simple, baggy pair of heathered-gray joggers that cuffed at his (rather attractive) calves and a loose, white t-shirt with the sleeves rolled to his shoulders.

As soon as he saw Yu’s form sprawled on the couch like a dead octopus, Yosuke quirked a quick smile at him and set down the basket near the table, tugging his headphones down to his shoulders. “Hey, partner.” He tilted his head to match Yu’s. “Long day, huh?”  

Yu grunted and attempted a nod, albeit a weak one. Yosuke’s words were an understatement, naturally. The workload he’d taken on at the start of his promotion to an associate at the firm was - there was no getting around it - hellish. At the beginning of the week, he’d been slapped with endless waves of research and had to draft memorandums on each topic. That wouldn’t be so bad if he hadn’t also been saddled with doing this for multiple cases, with several of them belonging to some rather demanding attorneys.

But it hadn’t stopped there. Now it was Friday, and his final day of the week had consisted of almost nothing but preparing a motion for filing in a case that was older than he’d been studying law. The entire litigation team had been scrambling to prepare all the materials while the lead attorney decided to leave the office early, trusting that Yu would get the filing done on time, with all the i’s dotted and the t’s crossed. It was awful. Yu had been a standout both in law school and his internship, so sure he expected to be given a disproportionate amount of the load than the other new associates and even young partners, but this amount was nothing short of barbaric.

He had only been getting through it with Yosuke’s help, really, and reminding himself over and over that eventually, he’d be his own boss if he kept at it. However long that would take . . . he didn’t want to think about it right now.

“Damn, you really are beat,” Yosuke said worriedly when it was clear Yu didn’t have the energy to respond with words. A sad grin pulled up one corner of Yosuke’s mouth. Yu tried to smile reassuringly at him but wasn’t sure how well he pulled it off.

Yosuke sighed heavily, throwing off his headphones and tossing them into the basket of towels he’d been about to throw in the wash. Without another word exchanged between them, he approached Yu’s lifeless form and mounted his lap, his gray-clad knees huddling in close to Yu’s hips. Yu grunted with Yosuke’s added weight (he’d grown a bit since high school, after all) but welcomed him in the form of two hands cupping his thighs as they settled atop him.

Yosuke took Yu’s face in his hands and then all Yu knew beyond the warm weight in his lap was the soft, delicate touch of Yosuke’s lips on his. The rest of the world may as well have fallen away. Yosuke’s lips parted from his with a small, intimate sound. His long fingers combed through the back of Yu’s hair as their noses bumped playfully in anticipation of another slow kiss.

The second one. The second one felt even warmer. But instead of soothing, it set a low heat to boil in his blood. He could feel life, slowly, returning to his hands and chest. His mouth reciprocated Yosuke’s kiss in full, jaw jutting wantonly into his when their tongues eventually spilled out to roll together. The soft, wet sensation of their mouths connecting and reconnecting, of Yosuke’s scent and his nurturing hands on his skin, flooded his mind of all the paper he’d rifled through today, of thoughts of deadlines and stern words.

Yosuke continued to plant one kiss after another, pulling Yu’s lips between his tenderly, languidly. Yu was exhausted, but this make-out session was steadily causing him to forget it.

“Feel better yet?” Yosuke mumbled before a quick, chaste kiss.

Yu hummed happily, his fingers curling over Yosuke’s clothed thighs and thumbs rolling into the skin hidden beneath. Yosuke smirked and chuckled, diving in for yet another kiss - this one deeper, more commanding. He sucked Yu’s tongue into his mouth and Yu was fine without the oxygen, really. Fortunately for his lungs, Yosuke eventually released him, his head falling back into the sofa once more and his chest heaving with breath. Yosuke was heaving, too, lips red and puffy.

As he always did, Yu silently drank in the sight of him. Yosuke looked much the same as he always had, but Yu didn’t think he’d ever tire of the way the heat rushed to his partner’s cheeks, framed by the silky strands of his hair. Or his eyes, normally bright, as they sank into dark, richer shades of brown that conveyed to Yu everything he needed to know.

Yosuke braced an arm on the couch next to Yu’s face and sat himself up a little more, his eyes locked on Yu’s face as he continued to try and catch his breath. Without looking away, he then took off his shirt, his smooth skin gleaming in the warm light of their living room. Yu gasped and reached out to touch him, wanting to feel the supple skin of his chest for himself. As soon as his fingers drew near to his chest, Yosuke pressed his palm to the top of his hand, and Yu could feel his heart racing beneath it. He grabbed Yu’s fingers and brought them to his lips, pressing firm, insistent kisses to the tips, against his palm, over his wrist . . . until his jacket’s cufflinks got in the way.

Then he shifted, put his hands on Yu’s legs, and sank to his knees on the floor.

Yu opened his mouth to talk but the only thing that came out was an unsteady moan, and a sigh, all which replaced his will to speak. Yosuke was clearly trying to hide a satisfied smirk as he yanked at Yu’s belt, undoing it easily and sliding it off to toss onto the floor. Yu’s heart was slamming into his ribs, his entire body having instantly come online at the realization of what was about to happen. He was still so tired, but his blood was racing, and Yosuke’s hands were cupping him through his trousers, carefully sliding the zip down, and those eyes - those eyes flicked into his and Yu could see the pull of desire written there - and he was left blissfully defenseless.

Fatigue, and succumbing to it, was a distant dream as soon as Yosuke’s fingers wrapped around his concealed erection. He was half-hard already, and fully hard in about three seconds when his cock registered Yosuke’s touch. Yu grunted and gripped fistfuls of the couch cushions. Yosuke wasted no time, tugging down Yu’s boxers as soon as he was hard enough to fill them.

His erection instantly sprang up, much to Yosuke’s amusement. He rose an eyebrow. “Well someone’s not as tired as he seems,” he chuckled.

Yu tried to laugh too but he ended up whining instead, softly but full of need. He felt heat flood his cheeks as he watched Yosuke take in the sight of his over-eager rod protruding from between the folds of his open trousers. It was the only bit of skin showing on him actually, and suddenly, Yu felt exposed. He could easily be at his desk at work, with Yosuke beneath it, those hungry eyes lingering reverently on the sight of his length. He groaned pitifully at the thought. That was too much for his tired brain to process tonight; if he indulged it, he’d come in a second - or worse, get the urge to act it out in real life.

Yosuke’s grin smoothed into a small, determined smirk as he raked his hands over Yu’s thighs, around his untouched erection, and began fiddling with the bottom buttons of his dress shirt. Yosuke’s breath brushed his exposed skin, and Yu had to swallow another plea in his throat - or would have, if it hadn’t been jettisoned out as an appreciative moan when Yosuke decided to start kissing and sucking on the head as he undid another few buttons.

His fingers found their way to Yosuke’s shoulders, trembling, feeling their way over the hardened muscle of his bare arms. His partner’s lips and tongue sent a spray of electricity through his member and into his balls, which spread straight into his fingers and toes. His breath stuttered from his chest. He usually had more stamina than this, but he could already feel the threat of his orgasm coiling hotly between his thighs. It had to be because of how tired he was, how long it had been since they’d last . . . and then, of course, there was Yosuke himself - bare-chested, glowing, lovingly mouthing the head of his cock like it was a topsicle on a hot summer day.

Without skipping a beat, Yosuke pulled his dress shirt open and lifted the white undershirt in order to expose his belly. Yu was immediately appreciative of the cool air that hit his sweat-slicked skin. His undershirt was practically soaked. He groaned pitifully when Yosuke removed his mouth and looked him over in confusion before he realized Yosuke was just trying to yank his tie loose.

“Sorry,” he whispered, “almost forgot about this.” He smiled sheepishly and Yu felt a smirk creep into his cheeks. He wanted to lean in and kiss him - those beautiful wet lips stretched over that perfect face - but before he could, his tie had been ripped off and Yosuke was back to work.

He took him in hand this time, fully, which made Yu’s hips finally lift a little from their place on the couch. He quickly had to still himself when Yosuke’s tongue began lapping at his head again, expertly suckling the full width into his mouth and rubbing his tongue into the spot that always made Yu moan. God, Yosuke was so good at these . . . Yosuke always insisted that Yu had to be better at them, but there was absolutely no way that was true. Yosuke was intuitive; he seemed to know every time exactly what to do with his tongue and for how long. Yu had always had trouble expressing himself, and the fact that Yosuke seemed to know everything about him with only the barest amount of effort was a quality Yu had promised himself a long time ago he would never take for granted.

Yosuke steadily moved his way down, letting the saliva and precum soak his member on the way. Soon, his entire length was coated and encased between Yosuke’s lips, the sweet slide of tongue and suction enough to curl Yu’s toes in his socks. He moaned, head lolling on the sofa as he fought to keep his body motionless. His limbs and thighs still felt heavy, but the desire between his legs was only growing more intense the more enthusiastic Yosuke became. He began using one of his hands now, twisting in slow, firm strokes up his length as he bobbed. Yu shouldn’t have been surprised when a shaky little whine slipped out of his throat, but there it was, and Yosuke responded by moaning - heavily - around the length in his mouth.

Yu’s head came off the sofa as the vibrations of Yosuke’s voice spread down his cock and straight into his balls, his thighs, flooding his stomach in a delicate, warm wave. Oh, it felt too good . . . it felt way too good . . . “Yosuke,” he cried, trembling at the urgency that was threatening to spill out.

Yosuke pulled his mouth free of him, but his lips continued to kiss and mouth at the head as his hand picked up speed. “Are you gonna come, partner?” The brunet had his eyes slammed shut, his cheeks gushing shades of red that almost matched the color of the dick he was drooling over. “Are you gonna come for me?” Without waiting for an answer, he dipped down to take him in again, and that was when Yu saw that Yosuke’s unoccupied arm was pulled tight to his own body - that it was jerking in a very telling motion that could only mean one thing.

And with that, the orgasm just . . . ripped itself free. His balls tightened in his pants, pumping wave after pleasurable wave up his length and coating Yosuke’s thick, welcoming tongue. His entire body shook with the force, the pulsing in his brain causing him to shut his eyes as it consumed him, as he let the sensation wash away the weariness in his limbs and heart, carried by the will of the person he trusted more than anyone.

He and Yosuke were both moaning - Yu from the impact of his orgasm, and Yosuke with the impending threat of his own. When Yosuke inevitably slipped Yu’s cock out of his mouth, strings of his release drew from his lips, thin and sticky. His jaw was trembling and his breath was coming fast, beating hot air over Yu’s skin. As he continued to stare and catch his breath, Yu felt the remnants of his orgasm transcend entirely into a desperate desire to see Yosuke come.

Somehow, he found the strength to lift his hand and cup Yosuke’s flushed cheek. Yosuke huffed out a few whimpers and his face twisted up into a sudden, pained expression - and Yu might have moaned just at the sight of that look. He could hear the sounds of Yosuke masturbating fill the small room and it was making his head swim blissfully.

Yu quickly threaded his fingers into his hair and gently gripped large chunks of it. He tugged in encouragement, and Yosuke let out an unintelligible whimper and planted his forehead into Yu’s leg as his free hand grasped needily at Yu’s arm. Yu watched his body undulate and writhe from the results of his own ministrations, enjoying the weight of Yosuke’s face against his leg and the hand gripping his shirtsleeve with insistence.

Yu could have existed for days like this, frankly, blown through the entire weekend just watching Yosuke jerk himself lewdly beneath the cover of the sofa and hearing him mumble obscenities, his name, into the fabric of his pants . . .

But eventually, Yosuke came. His hand suddenly released Yu’s shirt and flew down to join his other hand, probably to catch his release. That gave Yu plenty of warning in order to time a good, firm tug on his hair just as Yosuke stiffened and it was clear his orgasm was peaking. He nearly moaned himself at the sounds of his boyfriend grunting and whispering prayers through his climax (sounds he knew he’d never tire of).

Yu’s head was hot and heavy. His limbs felt boneless and his heart was light. Yosuke silently recovered on the floor, panting, his hair sticking to his forehead. Yu smoothed his fingers through it comfortingly. He wanted to pull him up, take in him his arms and hold him, but decided against it, electing instead to allow Yosuke time to regain his composure, which happened quickly enough.

After several, peaceful seconds, Yosuke lifted himself off Yu and gazed over his seated form. Yu gazed back, transfixed at the sexed-up look on Yosuke’s face, the smooth rash of red over his cheeks and nose, his neck, the telling, slack-jawed expression. After taking him in, Yosuke closed his eyes and let out a small laugh. It was little more than a puff of breath, really. 

“Well . . . that may not make up for the entire shitty week you’ve had, but I certainly hope it helped.” His voice was throaty and worn. Nice. Soothing.

Yu chuckled. “You have no idea,” he mumbled.

Yosuke stood up. He took a second, Yu was sure, to make absolutely certain he could walk without stumbling. His legs looked wobbly even from here; his knees must also have been sore from kneeling on the floor for so long. Yosuke shuffled around Yu’s feet, the laundry basket, and made it to the kitchen, where he busied himself with cleaning up while Yu took as much time as he could to chase away the lingering buzz from the sex. He didn’t really want to. He wanted to lay here forever and nap and cuddle with Yosuke and feel the warmth of his body on his again . . . but . . . he had to make dinner . . . he had to help Yosuke with the rest of the housework . . . and then he needed to shed this suit. He was going to have to stop at the dry cleaners if he kept it on much longer. And then there was the matter of what to make for dinner. He had no idea what they had in the house; the entire week had been a blur. Maybe something simple like - oh-!

The action of Yosuke climbing back on top of him startled him out of what must have been the beginning stages of sleep. Yosuke’s knees were on either side of him, a mirthful smile on his face as he carefully tucked Yu back into his boxer briefs. He’d evidently put his shirt back on, although Yu certainly hadn’t seen him do it. He smiled (he was sure it looked just as dopey as it felt) and ran his hands up Yosuke’s arms to pull him in. He locked his arms around Yosuke’s waist and encircled him, effectively pulling them flush together. Yosuke followed instantly, pressing their foreheads together and taking Yu’s face in his palms.

Yu graciously accepted every kiss that Yosuke pressed to his mouth, savoring each one like it would be a millennia before he’d get to taste the next. Tired as they were, Yu’s lips still tingled pleasantly, electrified by Yosuke’s touch. He’d never be able to stop kissing him. It felt too good. This felt too good.

“You’re amazing,” he mumbled in the hair’s breadth of space between their connecting mouths.

Yosuke snickered dubiously but didn’t refute that statement, much to Yu’s satisfaction. “It’s the least I can do for a guy who busts his ass to put a roof over our heads.”  

“You do that, too,” Yu countered. He adjusted Yosuke a bit and raised his head to plant kisses along his chest. “You work just as hard as I do.”

Yosuke sighed deeply. Yu suspected he was resigning himself to the inevitable loss he would sustain if he decided to argue Yu’s point.

“So,” he started. “What do you wanna eat?”

Just as he thought - a quick change of subject. He smiled into Yosuke’s shirt and began a new trail of kisses towards his throat. “Not sure what I want to make yet. Do you know what we have in the house already? It’s been such a long week I can’t remember . . .”

Have?” Yosuke pulled away and looked down at him incredulously.

“Yeah. Ingredients. For . . . dinner?” Yu quirked a hidden brow at him, which made him realize his bangs were still stuck to his forehead.

“Dude, you really feel up to making something? Let’s just get something from next door!”

“Next door,” Yu hummed in consideration. Their apartment was pressed up against a small conbini that sold an incredible variety of food. He and Yosuke used to go way more frequently when they were still in college, but the visits fell off when they began trying to eat in a little more. “I suppose that’s fine. But are you sure? I’m sure there’s something around here I could whip up quick.”

Yosuke rolled his eyes at him. “I’m sure as hell not gonna make you cook. You’re exhausted.” He scooted back and began to stand up. “Plus, your brains all fried from that BJ. You’d screw up and cut yourself, and then I’d have to take you to the hospital and -

“-You know I can cook perfectly fine after sex,” Yu interrupted, finally tugging down his undershirt. He stood and slipped off his beyond-wrinkled jacket. “Don’t tell me you want that cheap ramen compared to mine.”

Yosuke sighed and planted his feet, looking squarely at him. “I don’t want you cooking tonight, partner,” he insisted, with A Look, and Yu decided to smirk and leave it at that.

“Cheap ramen it is.”


They spent the rest of the evening sitting side-by-side on the floor at their small living room table sharing bites of the sandwiches, snacks, and cup ramen they secured from the surprisingly well-stocked shelves of the conbini. Yosuke had been particularly excited about a special kind of candy that the store used to never seem to have. They both took it as a cue to stock up on everything, and as a result, ended up with way more food than they could consume in a night. But that was quite alright with Yu.

He had no idea what they were going to do tomorrow, what plans or previous engagements they’d made. Honestly, he didn’t really care. The house was clean. The cheap ramen was cheap but of course delicious. (Yosuke was right; it was exactly what they’d needed.) He was finally in pajamas. And Yosuke had a little smear of chocolate on his face.

Monday was going to suck, but he’d deal with it like he always did. Or maybe he’d let Yosuke finally convince him to stay in bed for a change. He could certainly use it. He could already imagine the scenario:  their dark bedroom and Yosuke’s strong arms keeping him tucked close to his chest, the gentle sensation of his partner’s fingers threading through his hair as they guided each other back to sleep, the sweet press of their nude bodies consummately entwined for the rest of the morning . . . That plan was definitely more tempting than it ought to be, and one he should probably put some serious thought into.

For now, though, it was time to lean in and clean that smear off Yosuke’s cheek.