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D—did he succeed? The question that continued to plague Takemichi throughout the various timelines he’s lived burns hot in his throbbing head as he looks around at the bloodied, bruised faces of his friends. His vision swarms with unshed tears as he limps his way through the tangled mess of groaning delinquents, looking, searching for Mikey. He spits out a wad of clumpy blood before his eyes fall on the person he was looking for.
Mikey sits on a broken pillar, staring up at the twilight with his expression vacant. Takemichi’s chest tightens. All of this will have been meaningless if Mikey –
“Takemitchy.” Mikey’s voice is soft and it beckons him forward like a starving dog accepting a beggar’s scraps. Mikey looks at him and what little air that remains in his lungs is sucked from him. Even through his own tears and bloodied eyelashes, the smile that tugs Mikey’s mouth upward is far more radiant than anything he’d ever seen before. His eyes are still a little sad (who could blame him? After everything he’s been through? After everything he’s lost? Takemichi could never blame him for anything) but Takemichi has never seen him look so… peaceful before. “Thank you… for everything.” He doesn’t need to explain more than that; Takemichi already knows.
A sob bursts out of him and he sinks to his bruised knees as violent sobs wrack his body. Mikey’s torn up fingers thread through his muddy hair. He hasn’t told Mikey that he’s here because of him this time, that while he’s sure Hina’s future is secure, he is terrified of returning to a future where Mikey is somewhere he can’t reach. A future where Mikey has sunk further into crime – where he’s in jail, a murderer or dead. A future without Mikey in it, Takemichi had decided, is no future at all.
“Of course, Mikey,” is what he blubbers out instead through his incomprehensible sobs.
Mikey leans over, pulls Takemichi into a hug, lets him sob against his bare skin. He’s warm, alive, his heart thrums steadily against Takemichi’s ear. “Thank you, my crybaby hero, Takemichi.”
That just makes Takemichi cry harder. Have his efforts truly paid off? Is it okay for him to go back to the future? He doesn’t really have a chance to think much more about it because they’re being pulled into a massive group hug instigated by Chifuyu.
He doesn’t let go of Mikey though, but looking up at his face, he thinks this time it’ll be okay.
When Takemichi wakes up back in the future, twelve years older and disoriented, he doesn’t recognize his surroundings. This isn’t a first (Takemichi doesn’t normally recognize where he is) but this particular bedroom is. It’s a far cry from the shithole apartment he once called home, with its paper-thin walls, nosy neighbours, mountains of porn magazines and turned over beer cans. While it isn’t extravagant by any means (though he supposes anything would be in comparison), it’s comfortably furnished by a soft double bed and warm walls. There are clothes strewn over the chair in the corner. The walls here are sturdier, save for the faint shower sound he hears. It feels like home.
He sits up, a strange ache in his hips, and stares at his reflection in the mirror that hangs over the chair. Curly black hair messily mused by sleep, with – kiss marks all over his neck and chest, accompanied by dark bite marks. The marks dot all over his skin and, Takemichi realizes with a start as he flicks the sheets off, they extend further down to decorate the inside of his thighs too.
I guess I’m not a virgin anymore, he thinks, absently, as he studies the marks. Did Hina really leave these?
The squeak of a shower being turned off alerts Takemichi to the other person in the apartment and he quickly pulls the blankets back over his lower half as he watches the open door with anticipation and apprehension. The bathroom door creaks open. It’ll be his first time seeing Hina in a towel. Footsteps thunder loudly in Takemichi’s ears. Hina in a towel –
“Eh? When did you wake up Takemichi?” But it isn’t Hina standing in the open doorway, it’s Mikey. Mikey, with a towel lowly tied around his thin hips, with shorter black hair that he lazily dries with a smaller towel, with pink marks speckling his pale skin. He looks sleepy but happy. Content. For the first time since Takemichi had met Mikey there is life in his eyes. No, but, wait –
“M—Mikey-kun?” Takemichi splutters and skitters back against the headboard. His brain feels like it’s working on overdrive. Or not even working at all.
Mikey’s towel drying hand slows to a stop. He blinks once, twice, before understanding floods his face. “Takemitchy?” His mouth twitches into a grin. “You’re back?”
“What – what’s going on? Why are you – why are we?” He gestures wildly between them.
“Lovers?” Mikey supplies, discards his hair towel and joins Takemichi on the bed.
Takemichi flushes and hides his face with his arms. Mikey looks so handsome fresh out of the shower, twelve years older and healthy that Takemichi wants to cry. At least he succeeded in saving Mikey, but he never thought this would be the outcome. Surprisingly, he’s more surprised than anything.
“Yeah,” he mumbles before peeking at Mikey through the space between his arms.
Mikey wraps his strong hands around Takemichi’s wrists and pries his arms away. “We have a lot to catch up on,” he answers vaguely, as he tugs Takemichi forward, “but can it wait?” Takemichi’s eyes widen as he is pulled into an open-mouthed kiss. Mikey’s tongue slides into his mouth, tasting like minty toothpaste. Takemichi’s chest flutters in a way he doesn’t recognize himself.
After breaking the kiss, Mikey shifts their positions, presses Takemichi into the soft bed and hovers above him. His lips shine with saliva and his eyes smolder with affection and another emotion Takemichi dares not put a name to.
“Wa—wait Mikey-kun,” Takemichi starts up but Mikey once again swallows his complaints with a fevered kiss. Water drips onto his forehead from Mikey’s damp hair. He smells like Takemichi’s shampoo, like his soap. His body is warm under Takemichi’s hesitant but exploring fingers. Smooth, unblemished skin. Firm muscles hidden under his thin frame. Takemichi gives into the kisses, kisses back with all the unspoken emotion left behind on that fated day twelve years ago. Mikey’s heartbeat beats wildly under Takemichi’s touch. He is alive, he is happy, he is okay. While this may not have been the future Takemichi envisioned, is it okay to give his everything to Mikey? (Although, hasn’t he already?)
Mikey kisses down Takemichi’s jaw, his neck, leaving searing kisses in his wake, nibbling and biting at the bitten raw flesh he’d marked up the night before. Small, whispered moans eek out of Takemichi. It was easy to go along with Mikey’s ministrations, with his encouraging mouth and sharp teeth. It was easy to forget that he has no idea how he ended up in Mikey’s bed. It was easy to not care.
Unsure of what to do with his own hands, from his own inexperience and nerves, he settles for carding them through Mikey’s hair. Mikey bites a particularly dark mark on Takemichi’s hip which has him gasping and tugging on Mikey’s hair. He can feel Mikey smile against his skin.
“Takemichi?” Mikey says with his hot breath fanning across Takemichi’s hardening cock. Takemichi cranes his head to meet Mikey’s eyes, dark and blown wide with desire.
He swallows thickly. “Yes?”
“Can I fuck you?” His hands spread Takemichi’s ass, fingers tease the rim of his fluttering hole still thoroughly stretched from the previous night. “Can I fuck you until you remember exactly what you’ve forgotten over these last twelve years?”
He forgets to breathe. Mikey’s tongue runs over his bottom lip. Up the length of Takemichi’s trembling cock. Over the tip. All while maintaining eye contact.
“Please, Mikey-kun,” he says, “please… f—fuck me.”
Mikey grins savagely (ah, that part of Mikey hasn’t changed) and he sucks Takemichi’s cock into his mouth. Takemichi’s eyes roll back into his head. He might not remember anyone ever sucking him off, but his body sure did. Mikey’s finger, wet with lube that Takemichi hadn’t seen him grab, slips inside him. The intrusion isn’t unpleasant, far from it actually, as his body greedily sucks on one, then two of Mikey’s long fingers. They stroke his insides as Mikey bobs his head up and down on his cock. When Mikey’s fingers curl upward deliciously against Takemichi’s prostate, he’s seeing stars, thrashing under Mikey’s experienced fingers.
He pulls off Takemichi’s cock with a pop, adding a third finger to properly stretch him.
“Is this something you always wanted to do, Takemitchy?” Mikey asks. He rests his cheek on Takemichi’s thigh, licks him, presses hard up against his prostate. “Have you always wanted me to fuck you? Spread your legs and slam my cock into you?”
Memories Takemichi hadn’t thought about in years surface; the new porn magazines that started to catch his eye, the blossoming interest in touching himself in new places, the reoccurring dreams of a particular blond that had him waking up with a half-hard erection and soiled underwear. Desires he had buried behind his relationship with Hina, that kept him up at night and kept pulling him into the past even after he’d saved Hina.
Tears fill his eyes. Words he’s kept to himself for the past twelve years threaten to choke him. I wanted to save you, Mikey. I wanted you to be happy no matter the cost. I have always loved you. From the moment I met you, I have, secretly, desperately, always loved you. You are my happiness.
Mikey laughs quietly. He pulls his fingers out, changes their positions again, sits up to pull Takemichi into his lap. “My crybaby hero,” Mikey says as he delicately brushes the tears that have spilled down his face away, “how did my teasing turn out like this?” Only now did Takemichi realize he had said all of that out loud. So much for their foreplay talk, he thinks as embarrassment fills his face. Mikey kisses him softly, much softer than before, and it makes Takemichi cry harder.
“I love you,” he blubbers between kisses, “I love you Mikey.”
“I love you, too, Takemichi,” Mikey whispers, sounding so joyful that Takemichi wants to burst out crying again. “I’ve missed you.” Takemichi almost doesn’t catch that but he chooses not to say anything. “Do you want to continue?”
“Yes,” Takemichi replies immediately. His sobs have subsided, somewhat, but his vision is still watery as he looks down while Mikey loosens the towel. His cock springs free, longer and thicker than Takemichi’s. It’s pale, pink-tinged at the tip and a vein runs up the length of it. Takemichi remembers the porn he’d started watching, the ones he initially put on out of “curiosity” but then quickly began turning to them whenever he needed a quick release; suffice to say, Mikey’s cock was prettier.
Mikey produces the mystery lube and pours it over his cock. Takemichi takes the hint, shifts to his knees and uses Mikey’s shoulders to steady himself. Mikey’s hands are cupping his ass, spreading him open, lines himself up. Takemichi takes a deep breath and sinks down, taking Mikey inside him slowly. His breath stutters. He has no idea how much of Mikey is inside him but he already feels so full. Mikey is whispering praises (“you’re taking me so well Takemitchy, you’re doing so good”) in his ear, stroking him off with a free hand until Takemichi bottoms out with a gasp.
Mikey presses his palm against the slight bulge in Takemichi’s lower stomach. The stretch feels good, his body used to Mikey’s size after years of being together, but the sensations are all new to Takemichi. He arcs against Mikey’s calloused hand, his cock rutting against Mikey’s stomach. Rocking once, twice, trying to get a feel for the rhythm and a feel for riding cock. The soft sound of Mikey’s hitched breath, of Mikey’s quiet chuckles, encourages Takemichi. Mikey thrusts up with him when he sinks down, deliciously scraping against his prostate. Takemichi is practically drooling with each thrust. His moans slip out, wanton and needy, with Mikey’s name mixed in-between his broken noises and quiet curses.
Takemichi jerks himself off as he chases an orgasm that isn’t far away. Having looped his arms tightly around Takemichi’s waist, Mikey’s thrusts grow more frantic and shallower. His teeth leave marks on Takemichi’s already marked neck, shoulders and collar – practically any area of skin left unmarked last night was being marked now. Takemichi’s fingers dig into Mikey’s shoulders, his dull nails cutting small crescents in his skin.
Throwing his head back Takemichi moans so loudly he prays the walls aren’t as thin as his old apartment was and he cums. It splatters on Mikey’s stomach. Mikey groans into a particularly hard bite on Takemichi’s clavicle (it draws blood) as he stills, cums, and fills Takemichi. It’s blisteringly hot – he chokes a little on his own saliva.
Their faint pants fill the silence. Mikey kisses over the fresh bite marks as a silent apology, looking up at Takemichi through his dark lashes. This time, Takemichi initiates the kiss and his heart speeds up at this intimate gesture. He can feel Mikey’s cum start to leak out of him around the softening cock in his ass.
“Mikey-kun,” Takemichi says between kisses, “I know you just showered, but I think we should shower?”
At that, Mikey laughs. “We probably should.” He gently cups Takemichi’s face. “How was it? For your ‘first’ time?”
He blushes. At a bit of a loss for what to say, he settles on: “Good,” because it was good. Generally painless due to his future self’s competence and knowhow regarding anal sex. Fulfilling in a way his own fingers never were. “Better than good,” he adds almost as an afterthought. His muscles are still trembling as he comes down from his post-orgasm bliss and the feeling of being wrapped up in Mikey’s arms makes this whole experience ten-times better.
Mikey presses a kiss against the corner of his mouth. He untangles himself from Takemichi and gets to his feet. Holding his hand out for him, Mikey says, “I’m glad.” Takemichi takes his hand, grateful for the help when his legs feel like Jell-O. His eyes glint mischievously. “Are you up for a second round in the bath?”
Takemichi’s mouth flops open. How insatiable is Mikey? Did he turn him into a sex maniac? Although, Takemichi thinks, he doesn’t particularly mind. “Absolutely.”
And Mikey is laughing, again, carefree, happy and beautiful. He is everything Takemichi desperately hoped the future would hold for him even if he didn't exactly envision their relationship like this. As Mikey leads him into their cozy bathroom, still warm from Mikey’s last shower, Takemichi thinks he would gladly do it all over again if it meant seeing Mikey like this.
He only has one question, really.
“Oh, by the way,” Takemichi asks, as Mikey gently suds up his chest with a cloth, “are you happy, Mikey-kun? With me?”
“Hmm…?” Mikey pauses. Considers. Takemichi’s heart somersaults; his stomach plummets. But when Mikey looks up at him, Takemichi doesn’t have to worry anymore. “I’ve never been happier, Takemichi.”
And Takemichi believes him. How can he not? For all the horrible futures he’s seen as direct consequences of the decisions he’s made, this is the only one he truly feels that Mikey is happy.
So, he does the only thing that he can think of doing: he wrenches Mikey into a tight hug and whispers that he loves him, over and over again in Mikey’s ear until they’re making out like ravenous beasts on the warm tiled floor.
They were going to be just fine.