Work Text:
“Akaza-dono!~” A voice called out to him. It was Akaza’s walking equivalent to nails on a chalkboard, evidently heading his way.
Akaza groaned, barely refraining from directing his own forehead straight into the wooden surface of his desk.
Great. Fantastic.
It wasn’t too long after Akaza had joined Kimetsu Inc. that Douma had become the newest addition to the team. The first time Akaza had even set eyes on the other man, he knew that he would be absolutely obnoxious . He would walk through the lobby’s doors like he owned the place. He practically oozed charisma, able to have colleagues at his beck in call in a matter of weeks. All long blond hair and tall, an outgoing personality, and a charming smile that made the ladies swoon. Akaza wondered how much hair product the man used, and what price he’d have to pay for him to leave him alone , because after a brief introduction Douma practically stuck to him like glue. The reason being, ‘we new guys have to stick together, right?’. Please, he’s been there for two months already, he didn’t need any company from a guy who smelt like he just stepped out of a Bath and Body Works.
And what was it with the dono thing?
“Goodmorning, Akaza-dono!” Douma, clad in his matching work attire of a white button up and grey slacks (with the addition of crimson red tie), planted his splayed hands on his desk, leaning down slightly. A light chuckle, “I didn’t see you on the train this morning, did you take an earlier time than usual?
Yes, to avoid you, Akaza thought.
Akaza grumbled in response, taking a long swig of his energy drink and pretending it was hard liquor.
“I missed our morning chat,” he pouted, almost child-like. “It really kick-starts my day, you know?”
“Don’t you have work to do?” Akaza questioned flatly.
“Of course, but I wanted to check in with you first!” The blond bent over, lowering to his forearms, bringing himself eye level with Akaza. “We should request to have our desks moved next to each other. Then we could work together~, doesn’t that sound great?” The blond winked, and Akaza frowned.
“No,” was his blunt, one word response.
Akaza dug his heel into the floor, pivoting in his office chair to bend down and dig through his bag. Papers rustled as he quickly searched for and plucked out a cream file folder. The pink haired man sat up and glared when Douma now stood in front of him, way too close that he was comfortable with. Honestly, if possible, he wouldn’t be in a mile radius to the other man.
“Let’s go out for lunch together. I’ll pay,” Douma offered, looking down with a grin.
“I have plans,” Akaza dismissed him quickly, swiveling around once more. He licked his thumb and forefinger lightly, before flipping open the folder and examining its contents.
“Oh really? What, going out with a girl?”
“Going out with friends, actually,” he groused, through grit teeth. At the corner of his eye, he saw Douma open his mouth, and quickly added, “And you are not invited.”
“Aw, you’re no fun,” Douma complained, before checking the expensive looking silver watch on wrist, “I’ve gotta get going. Let me know if you change your mind!” With that, he sent a little wave and turned on his heel. As Akaza watched his blond head of hair disappear across the room, he knew he would absolutely not be changing his mind.
Akaza decided he hated the other man when he infiltrated his friend group a week later.
They stood in the first floor lobby, discussing where they’d grab lunch.
“There’s this boba place I wanna try just down the block. Let’s go there,” Daki said, thumbs rapidly typing away at the screen of her phone.
“Yeah sure,” Gyutaro agreed, turning to Akaza and Kokushibo. “You guys fine with that?”
Kokushibo simply nodded, adjusting his glasses, while Akaza made a small noise of affirmation. He was fine with anything so long as it was good.
“Then It’s settled!” the girl clasped her hands together, eyes sparkling, “I heard they have these really cute animal straws.”
“I think I’ll pass on the animal straw,” Akaza said, idley cracking his knuckles from thumb to pinky.
“Come oooon,” she whined, shoving her phone into his face, “Look! They even have tanuki~ your favorite!”
Displayed in the photo was a set of three… unnaturally colorful drinks with equally as bright straws. Attached to the length of each were small, plastic animals. The one in the center was indeed a mini tanuki, with a green pouch over its back and a matching green leaf on its head.
Cute.
“Maybe-” he was cut off with a wheeze, as muscled arms snaked around his middle and squeezed. A head hooked over his shoulder, and that utterly irritating voice addressed the group.
“Mind if I join you all?” Douma asked, offering up an award winning smile. Akaza cringed, standing so stiffly he could be mistaken for a statue.
Gyutaro narrowed his eyes at the intruder, glowering. Kokushibo raised a brow, closing the book he was reading in one quick motion. Daki, on the other hand, asked excitedly, “Oh, oh! Are you that Douma guy? You know Akaza?”
“Yep! We’re best friends,” he said, gleaming.
No, we are not, Akaza wanted to vehemently deny, but what came out instead was another choked noise.
“Really?” she drawled with a smirk, “That’s a surprise. Usually his personality is enough of a deterrence for anyone.”
Akaza scowled at the girl, and she stuck her tongue out teasingly.
“Well, you’re free to join us. We were just heading out to lunch.”
“Great!” The piss haired man cheered, giving another little affectionate squeeze to Akaza’s middle, “I’m sure we’ll get along!” Akaza’s heart dropped in utter dread and despair at the thought of Douma becoming a permanent fixture of their group.
This was it. This was Akaza’s personal hell. He could barely handle Daki, how would he handle the unholy combination that was both a bimbo and a himbo?
And unfortunately… Douma clicked into their group well. Too well. He could gossip with Daki about the latest drama, and understand her strange gram ramblings. He could trade jokes back and forth with Gyutaro, completely undeterred by his sometimes offensive nature, and also happened to be somewhat of a bookworm himself, able to keep up with Kokushibo’s novels by the week. What couldn’t Douma do? It pissed Akaza off.
The worst part? Douma was touchy. Too touchy. Each and every time he would accompany his group to lunch, and it seemed he tried his damndest to always be next to Akaza. The man had no concept of personal space. Akaza would move, and the blond would move with him like a magnet to metal. He would sling his arm around Akaza’s shoulders in a restaurant and Akaza, caught off guard, would end up choking on his food. Douma would even sometimes ruffle his hair (a little roughly), usually after he’d told a joke and Akaza grumbled something along the lines of, ‘shut up’ .
Douma seemed to have some sort of strange favoritism for Akaza. Or, a vendetta. Akaza considered the possibility that the blond actually hated him, and got a kick out of annoying the shit out of him on the daily. That idea was almost favorable, since Douma genuinely seemed to like him. The blond truly showed no signs of malicious intent in his deeds. Was he really that oblivious to Akaza’s utter loathing of him?
Akaza solemnly sipped from his green tanuki straw, cheek tilted to be propped in his cupped palm. From the corner of his eye, he watched Douma laugh at something Gyutaro said, then set down his glass right next to Akaza’s.
He eyed the orange fox straw sliding around Douma’s empty cup.
Douma always had a particular way of doing things. He had a particular walk. The sound of which Akaza had learned to recognize when the blond began heading his way. It was steady and unhurried, as if the man had all the time in the world, with the characteristic click of the brand of those expensive dress shoes he always wore.
He had a distinct manner of speech, as well. The taller man talked a lot. Too much, if someone were to ask Akaza, and almost always in that cheery and jovial way; always with that easy going smile. Casual, too, even with their superiors. Akaza wondered if the man had a few screws loose in that mind of his.
Akaza shuddered, wondering what kind of vile thoughts were sliding around in that piss box of his.
Perhaps Douma was some sort of murderer or something, disguising himself under the cover of a middle class worker.
“Good afternoon, Akaza-dono!,” a voice called out to him, approaching with that telltale walk and speech.
Speak of the devil and he shall appear.
Akaza grunted in response, tapping his foot impatiently as the printer whirred, loading out paperwork sheet by sheet.
“How was your day so far?” Asked from behind him. He could hear the grin in the man’s voice.
“ Fine.” The device clicked to a stop, beeping a silly little 8-bit tune to tell Akaza that it had completed its task.
“Good to hear, good to hear.”
Akaza reached down, picking up and quickly thumbing through the individual sheets in the stack. He pivoted sharply, set on getting back to his desk and far, far away from a certain piss colored individual.
But Douma stepped into his path.
He shifted to the side again and again, and Douma moved with him, effectively blocking his way. “What do you think about spending our breaks together?” His hands moved animatedly as he rambled, while simultaneously matching Akaza’s movements. “Are you free after work, too? We haven’t gotten the chance to hang out together yet, one on one. That really sucks, since I think you’re a really cool guy, so we should spend time together!”
Akaza attempted to force his way past, but bumped Douma's shoulder roughly- and his papers were sent scattering to the floor. He felt his eye twitch as he eyed the mess at his feet.
Akaza snarled in frustration, hastily crouching down to the cold wooden floor. A vein formed in his forehead as he angrily gathered his paper, grumbling wordless threats under his breath. The man was so, so very lucky that his job paid well, otherwise there’d be hell to pay. He registered Douma squatting down across from him when the pungent floral scent that the man usually wore invaded his nostrils.
“Sorry ‘bout that.” Akaza glare snapped up to Douma, who held out the bunch of papers he’d collected, and he snatched them back with a scowl. The blond stood first, offering out his hand, but Akaza swatted it away furiously. He rose to his feet and shuffled the disordered mess of papers held in his hands using his knee. Briskly, he brushed past the man and out of the room.
Douma followed him, walking beside him as Akaza began his journey back to his desk. The papers in his hand crinkled as his clenched fists twitched with the dire need of being directed into the other man’s gut. Did the bastard not even have anything to print? Then, he casually slung arm around his shoulder as they walked, and Akaza stopped abruptly.
“Move it.”
“Huh?”
“Move. Your. Arm.”
Douma’s arm lingered for a few moments before he backed up with a smile, holding his hands up in mock surrender.
“Geez, Akaza, you’re so mean to him~”
Daki, who apparently had a front row seat to their interaction , teased with a smirk.
Akaza ignored her, and continued walking.
The man was like a cockroach, Akaza concluded. A tall, blond cockroach with a stupid voice and a stupid face. No matter what he did to deter him, Douma practically never even bat an eye. Whether it be a blatant insult or a rough shove, he would always bounce back with something. A smile, a laugh, a tease, a hug, a hair ruffle- it was always positive! Akaza had tried so hard to piss him off, do anything for the man to just take a hint and stay in his own lane.
Anytime they fought (it was a mostly one sided affair, on Akaza’s part) the Shabana siblings and Kokushibo would always chalk it up to some sort of banter. Didn’t his friends see how much of a nuisance the guy was? Akaza felt as if he’d been betrayed with the way they all quickly welcomed him into the group. All of them fell head over heels into the floral lotion vat that was Douma’s dumb little charming tricks.
What schemes did the man have cooking up? What were his true intentions for pestering Akaza this much? What reason did he have to insist on being his ‘ best friend’ when he could make one out of one of the many people in their department who wanted to become arm candy to little mr perfect?
He had to be fucking with Akaza. There was no way he wasn’t! Douma was good at hiding it, Akaza would give him that, but not good enough. Akaza wouldn’t fall for his silly little tricks so easily. If the man thought he was like any other, well he had another thing coming!
Akaza blinked. His phone alarm was going off, vibrating against the surface of his desk.
Ah. Time for lunch.
He bit the inside of his cheek in annoyance, forcing himself to shelf his bitter thoughts about Douma for another time. Akaza really wasn’t sure why he spent so much of his time seething about the other man in his mind. Perhaps it was because he lacked a proper outlet.
Akaza already took out his frustrations on a punching bag every morning, but apparently that wasn’t enough anymore.
How much was a therapist these days?
Late in the evening, Akaza stood on the wooden bridge of the company’s courtyard. Ripping one final piece of bread off his leftover sandwich from lunch, he tossed it into the water below. It landed on the pond’s surface, bobbing slightly, before it was gobbled up by a nearby golden koi. Tired eyes watched as the clear water rippled, dancing rings reflecting the golden lights from the surrounding city buildings.
Dragging a hand down his face, Akaza sighed, exhausted. He was in a terrible mood. Rengoku and his little boyfriend decided to take a last minute vacation, meaning he was stuck with extra work. At least that little red haired runt would bring back gifts for the whole department. Yet, no amount of foreign sweets could make up for the lost time he could have spent sleeping at home.
A little fresh air helped calm him down a bit. Though, the promise of returning back to his desk to work for at least another two hours had his mood souring once again.
At least the day couldn’t get any worse than-
“Hey, Akaza-dono!” Douma called out, and the wood under his fingers creaked audibly as he tightened his grip on the fence.
God fucking damnit.
Douma slid to his side, propping his elbow back on the railing. He offered a sunny smile, and Akaza only sneered, his grip white knuckling. “Wanna go grab dinner somewhere? It’s on me!” The blond held up his black leather wallet, shaking it slightly as if to entice Akaza.
“No, ” Akaza hissed, wrappers crinkling loudly as he violently shoved the remainder of his sandwich back into his bag. He wasn’t in the mood to listen to the other man’s incessant talking. He never was, but at that moment especially so.
“Aw, why not?” the taller man whined childishly, and Akaza bargained with himself. Would it be worth it to punch Douma then? Seconds later, however, an idea struck him as he eyed the wallet in Douma’s hand. “You know, I tried to find you earlier today but during lunch you were nowhere to be found! It’s almost as if you’ve been avoiding me. Funny, right? Anywho, I’d really like to spend some time with you-”
“Hey, what’s that over there?” Akaza asked suddenly, nodding in the direction he was facing, behind Douma.
“Eh?” The blond’s head immediately turned. Bingo. “Where?”
Akaza swiped Douma’s wallet from his hand in one quick motion. A moment later, the blond turned back to face him with a confused look before his eyes snapped to his stolen wallet. Akaza had it dangled past the railing, over the pond.
Then, he simply let go.
The wallet landed in the water with a small splash.
“ You know, ” Akaza drawled, teeth bared in a mocking smile. “I suddenly feel like getting dinner somewhere!”
Fuck it, he’d work the extra hours.
Douma leaned over the railing, watching his wallet slowly sink down into the pond’s depths. Then, he turned back to Akaza with a blank stare, void of any emotion. It unnerved him, the lack of the usual smile on the other man’s face.
Had he finally done it?
Had Akaza finally angered the other man?
Akaza anticipated anger, to be hit , to be shoved roughly against the railing and to be shouted at. But… nothing came. Douma only stared, and the longer he did the more Akaza doubted himself.
Akaza’s grin faltered, before falling away completely.
His minor victory didn’t feel so good anymore. Could it even be called that? He swallowed thickly, saliva feeling unbearably heavy in his throat as it traveled downwards. All the anger he felt, both towards his work and Douma, dissipated like smoke. Another emotion welled up fiercely in his chest.
Guilt.
He felt guilt.
Then, Douma spoke.
“My my, Akaza,” he said, blankly. His voice was uncharacteristically quiet, almost breathy. “That was awfully rude of you, don’t you think?”
There was no anger, no hostility, no sadness. Nothing. Nothing in that tone of voice could help Akaza discern what the other man was feeling. His expression, too, was a blank slate, as if Douma were sleeping with his eyes open.
Akaza stared back, lips parted for two words that would ultimately go unsaid.
Whatever, his internal monologue insisted. This is what you wanted, right?
No, he wanted anger. A fight- because even that would be easier for Akaza to deal with than… this.
Akaza scoffed, shoving his hands roughly into the pockets of his slacks.
He strided past Douma, making sure to clip his shoulder roughly on the way.
Akaza jogged down the block, careful not to bump into passersby, using his leather book bag to shield his head from the heavy downpour. He would be lucky if his paperwork wasn’t clammy by the time he returned home. Gritting his teeth, he mentally chastised himself for not checking the weather forecast that morning. His shoes and socks were soaked from treading through puddles, and his damp white dress shirt was practically translucent from being assaulted with rain water.
Almost there, Akaza assured himself. The station wasn’t too far off.
Rounding the corner sharply, Akaza slid, his dress shoes lacking the proper traction to keep him grounded.
“Wh- huh-!” he choked, feet slipping messily on the wet concrete near comically, like an exaggerated scene in a cartoon.
Akaza fell forward, face first into a large puddle.
It hurt like a bitch , and Akaza groaned in pain. Spitting out the grimey water in his mouth, Akaza looked up briefly, before his cheek smacked back down against the wet concrete in despair. He heard a few sets of footsteps pass by him as he laid on the floor, likely a group of schoolgirls, giggling at his fallen figure. As moments ticked by, he felt himself becoming progressively more drenched. The cold sent a chill through his body.
Then, another set of footsteps, leisurely but measured. Akaza was expecting to be mocked by yet another passerby, but they stopped at his side. He listened to the pitter patter of rain against the surface of an umbrella above him, now shielding him from the rain.
“Are you alright?” A familiar voice asked.
Akaza grumbled from where he laid limp on the floor, slowly lifting his head up with a weak glare at the absolute worst person to have seen him slip and fall like a total dumbass.
Douma and his stupid red tie, with an amused smile, holding out his umbrella above the two of them. He was dressed appropriately for the rain in a black, hooded windbreaker, completely dry under the protection of his umbrella because of course he was.
Stupid mister perfect, Akaza thought bitterly.
Akaza wondered if Douma would use that moment as an opportunity. To ridicule him, or to kick the absolute shit out of him while he was down. To drag him into a nearby alley and beat him till he saw stars. Akaza wouldn’t blame him, if he did. The last time he’d seen Akaza was in that courtyard a few days back, since then the pink haired man had avoided him like the plague.
When Akaza didn't move, Douma chuckled softly, saying, “Come on, let’s get you up.”
Akaza let himself be pulled up to his feet by the hand, not having the energy to lash out at the other man more than a weak, ‘don’t touch me.’ It went unheard, of course.
The shorter man shuttered, body shaking as the cold truly set in, chilling him down to the bone. Douma leaned down, plucking up his soaked bookbag from the floor by the strap and slinging it over his shoulder. Then, a warm arm wrapped around him, bringing him close. “What were you thinking, Akaza-dono?” he chastised with a wry smile, “You’re going to get yourself sick.”
What do you care?
Akaza breathed harshly, leaning into Douma, chasing the warmth.
No anger, no animosity.
How confusing.
He was led to a nearby bench, hidden from the rain under a building’s overhang. Douma sat him down, quickly closing his umbrella in one smooth motion. The taller man shrugged off his jacket and leaned down in front of Akaza, wrapping the article of clothing around his shoulders. His hand, a searing warmth in Akaza’s freezing condition, pressed flat to his forehead, slicking back the drenched hair clinging to his skin, before moving down to his cheek.
Douma clicked his tongue, “You’re warm.”
Akaza mumbled pure nonsense in response, and soon Douma was plopping down beside him, pulling Akaza back flush against his body. He shook in the taller man’s embrace, teeth chattering. His face was beginning to numb from the pain, aided by the cold.
Akaza should have pulled away, he didn’t need his help.
“Still with me, Akaza-dono? When the rain lets up, we'll head to the station,” he said, gently, and Akaza nodded in a hazy agreement. “And when you get home, put some ice on that, alright? But only after a hot shower.”
Akaza snuggled into Douma, feverish from the cold.
Douma was confusing.
His eyes fluttered shut.
Akaza, fresh out of the shower, stared at the umbrella Douma had lent him, left propped up against the leg of the dining room table. Then, he turned to the black windbreaker hung up on the coat rack.
He continued to dry his hair with his now damp towel, sniffling softly.
“Thank you,” Akaza mumbled, shoving both the umbrella and folded jacket into Douma’s arms.
He had taken two sick days off.
“You’re very welcome,” Douma responded, smiling softly. His expression was somewhat satisfied, as if he had been waiting for that moment. “Are you feeling better?” he asked, but by the time he finished Akaza was already speed walking back to his desk.
Douma continued joining them for lunch, hanging around Akaza as if nothing ever happened.
Akaza figured he’d let a few of the blond’s touches slide.
“So this is where you’ve been all this time,” words muffled, but still audible through the punk rock he was currently listening to.
Akaza popped out an earbud, craning his head around from where he was using the treadmill. “I thought I’d take advantage of the building’s gym, what a coincidence I’d find you here!”
Douma stood behind him in a pair of black gym shorts and a white t-shirt, hair in a- was that a fucking bun? Akaza hadn’t seen the other man dress so casually before, largely because of their uniform. Fingers quickly tapping away at the control panel, the treadmill slowed to a stop, and Akaza hopped off, panting. He gripped at the edge the hem of his grey, loose-fitted tank top, bringing it up to wipe away the sweat as his brow. He almost missed the movement of those eyes, immediately lowering to his newly exposed skin.
“Well, I’m usually the only one here this early in the morning,” Akaza said, voice winded, “A few people usually come in only after I’ve already showered and left.”
Then, Akaza blinked, realizing how casually he spoke to the other man.
“What a shame you had to show up,” he added, dryly.
“Aw, don’t be so cold. I’m great company,” Douma replied cheekily, setting a friendly hand on Akaza’s shoulder, before moving past him and towards the bench press.
Akaza huffed, moving to his nearby bag to fish for his hand wrap. He eyed the punching bag behind him, a perfect outlet to vent his frustrations.
“Hey, Akaza-dono, can you spot me?”
“Yeah, whatever,” Akaza agreed without thinking.
When he belatedly registered his own agreement, he frowned.
So much for venting his frustrations.
Akaza walked leisurely before leaning back against the wall near where Douma stood. He made a show of scoffing, rolling his eyes, and crossing his arms when the blond smiled at him. He did not want to be there. Not one bit. Akaza needed to make sure the other man was aware of that.
He glanced back and forth between Douma and the room’s exit. Yes, he was uninterested. Very uninterested even as-
Douma reached down, fingers gripping at the bottom edge of his shirt. Pulling it up and off and- holy shit. What the fuck did Douma do in his spare time? Akaza’s stare was fixed now. Fixed on a toned, broad chest and sculpted muscles flexing as the man moved. Now, Akaza was far from being a twig himself but damn.
Face numbing with heat (from the room, of course. The room with an oddly increasing temperature) he watched as Douma then bent down, beginning to load weights onto the bar. Golden eyes took in the movement in the man’s arms, the contraction of his biceps as a weight was lifted, and how- wait a minute, wasn’t that way too much?
Akaza furrowed his brow, snapping out of his daze when he noticed that Douma had loaded a lot of weight. Enough that it was surely way more than Akaza himself took with a spotter. Was Douma stupid, or simply overconfident? He decided to let Douma do it, however, finding amusement in the idea of the proud man struggling.
Douma laid back against the bench press seat, hands reaching up and wrapping around the bar.
“You ready?” He looked up at Akaza.
“I should be the one asking you that.” He gripped the bar from in between Douma’s hands. It took everything in him to not pull back as if he’d been burned when their fingers brushed together.
Douma nodded. Then, with a grunt, he lifted the bar off the set. Akaza let go, but made sure to have his hands hover close by in case the blond were to drop it. Douma began his reps, gradually lifting the barbell and lowering it back down. He made sure to pay attention, gluing his eyes to the bar; watching as Douma lifted up and down. Up and down. Up and down. Up… and down… Up… and… down…
Akaza’s eyes wandered.
Cheeks burning red, his golden gaze traveling the vast landscape of Douma’s figure. He swallowed thickly, pulse hammering through his neck and ears. Down and down, from defined pectorals down to a sculpted six pack of abs. Back up, to the roll of those shoulders and the pulses of bulging biceps as they worked, stretching a muscled chest up and outwards along the way. Akaza wondered what Douma’s routine was… maybe he’d witness it if the other man were to work out with him in the morning. Yeah, they could… trade notes.
Akaza…
He distantly registered something that sounded like his name.
But right, right. Douma was really great at…whatever he was doing.
Akaza…
Back down… to where loose shorts hung low on his waist, revealing the sharp v of-
“Akaza-dono- can you- Akaza-” he wheezed.
He blinked rapidly back into focus, eyes widening in alarm at the sight before him. Shit. Akaza didn’t even notice Douma’s struggling until then. His pale face was as red as that tie he usually sported. He had a nervous grin, arms shaking as he barely held the bar above his chest.
“Ah, shit- I’m sorry!”
He gripped the bar, huffing as he assisted Douma in hauling the bar back onto the set.
The blond groaned, arms flopping back against the seat as his chest heaved. After a few moments, he sat up with a kick, resting his hands on his knees as he panted.
“You idiot!” He rounded the press. “Don’t bench if you know you can’t handle the weight!” Akaza scolded.
A light laugh, as if Douma wasn’t just inches away from having his collarbone cave in. “I’ll be more careful next time. And maybe,” he lowered his voice, “you should pay more attention when spotting, Akaza.” He winked, and Akaza sputtered.
“Shut the fuck up. You’re lucky I didn’t leave your ass for dead.”
The nerve of this guy. Akaza huffed, turning on his heel, on his way for the showers.
“Of course, of course,” sounded casually from behind him, tone as if he were brushing Akaza off. The seat creaked as Douma rose to his feet.
Douma did end up joining him in the morning at the gym the next day. And the next one. And the day after that. It wasn’t annoying as Akaza thought it would be, honestly. The man was content with doing most of the talking. Usually, it would be in the form of long winded rambles. His train of speech would shift rapidly between its tracks, from the lastest workplace drama to what he had for breakfast that morning.
Though Akaza would never admit it, it wasn’t terrible to listen to Douma talk while they worked. It was strange. Akaza would be ripping his own hair out if that were to happen a month ago.
It began a routine ever since Douma began taking the same morning train as him once more.
And everyday, like clockwork, Douma would join him for the journey home as well. Though, the blond did have an earlier stop than him.
That day, the blond decided he would fill the silence with those god awful ice breakers you’d be forced to answer in grade school. Though, he’d found that talking to Douma was strangely more bearable lately. Akaza figured he may as well entertain the taller man and answer. It wasn’t like he had anything better to do as they walked to the station.
“What’s your favorite color?” was his first question.
“Red. Like the color of bloodshed,” Akaza said sarcastically.
“Alrighty, what’s your favorite food?”
“Finger foods. Sandwiches, usually. They’re easy and convenient to eat.”
“What’s your ideal date spot?”
What.
Akaza narrowed his eyes, “Why?”
“Just curious! Trying to get to know you is all. Maybe I can set you up with a girl ,” he winked, and Akaza cringed. He considered just ignoring the other man, but the blond’s insistent stare made him uncomfortable.
He shrugged. “I don’t know. It’s not something I think about. Probably something outdoors.”
“Good to know,” Douma drawled. “Good to know.”
Douma talked a lot. That fact was nothing new.
Good morning Akaza-dono! Did you get some good rest last night?
Hey hey, Akaza-dono! You think you’ll make this week's deadline? I’m totally stressed!
What are you having for lunch today, Akaza-dono? Man, I’m starving!
But, when did it become-
“You’re cute, Akaza-dono.”
Akaza’s sandwich dropped to its plate with an audible plop.
“... what? ” he asked incredulously. Maybe Akaza misheard.
Douma took another large bite from his own panini from the seat directly across from him
“Y’er cute,” he said, mouth full.
“I am not… cute ,” Akaza spat, as if the mere word were poison on his tongue. He was in a dire need to curb stomp the other man outside, but alas, he would lose his job… and be arrested.
“You are!” Douma insisted.
“No I am fucking not -”
“Can you two please cut it out with the homosexual tendencies?” Daki complained at his side, tilting her phone just right for the perfect angle of her sun bathed soup and sandwich platter. “Usually, It’s really cute and funny, but right now I'm trying to get some good pictures for the gram.”
Akaza choked out an incredulous noise, opening his mouth to vehemently deny the… homosexual tendencies he apparently had with the blond. What the fuck did that even mean? Before he could speak, the girl’s brother beat him to it.
“Do you have to take pictures of everything you eat?” Gyutaro grumbled, dragging a hand down his face as he slid in beside Douma.
“You wouldn’t understand,” she said quickly, dismissing her older brother with a wave of her hand.
Akaza scoffed and leaned back against the backrest, sliding down slightly against the surface. He eyed his abandoned turkey sandwich, the mayonnaise dripping down the edges of the bread. He wasn’t very hungry anymore.
While the siblings continued to bicker, and Kokushibo sat serenely drinking from his dark coffee at his right, Akaza felt Douma tentatively toe at his shoe under the table, before intertwining their ankles. Looking up with a deadpan expression, he saw the blond already watching him with a grin.
What were they, fucking twelve?
Akaza cringed, lifted his heel, and stomped on the taller man’s foot. Douma flinched slightly, wincing lightly between his teeth, but still maintained his smile. Akaza raised his brow, strangely impressed. The blond took it pretty well, actually. And soon, Douma was once again intertwining their legs. The leather of the booth seat creaked slightly as he scooted forward, bringing them closer underneath the table. He nudged at Akaza’s knee, tilting his head like a playful dog.
Akaza released a heavy, exasperated sigh, before tapping the toe of his shoe against Douma’s thigh with a resigned expression. The blond beamed brightly at the action, not unlike a child on Christmas morning, and tapped his foot back eagerly.
He was playing footsies, Akaza supposed.
When they left the cafe, returning to work for the end of their lunch break, Akaza noticed how close Douma walked beside him, closer than usual, lingering far into his personal space. It was the dawn of autumn with a slight chill in the air, and Akaza’s face pinkened from the cold. Nothing else.
He also noticed the long, intense stare Kokushibo sent his way as they walked. The stoic man had a knowing look as he locked eyes with Akaza, tilting his head down slightly as he assessed Akaza’s reaction.
Akaza stared back, blankly.
Huh.
Dipshit: Just got off the train Akaza dono <3 I’ll be there soon.
Soyama Akaza: :thumbs up: yel
Soyama Akaza: ye
Soyama Akaza: fuck
Soyama Akaza: **yep
Akaza fumbled with his phone as he stumbled out of the shower. He completely overslept! That message was from over ten minutes ago! Curse his bad habit of staying up late and sleeping till noon on weekends. Frazzled, he nearly tripped over the rim of the tub before snatching a towel off the hook. He dried his hair roughly, with the fevor of a murderer trying to scrub blood out of carpet.
The day before, Douma had asked to hang out during the weekend, just the two of them. Strangely, Akaza had found himself agreeing. Well, what better did he have to do than to sleep and play video games… which were both very enjoyable activities for him. Though, he ruefully admitted to himself that Douma’s company had been enjoyable- ahem, bearable as of late. Douma had also insisted on ‘ picking him up ’. It would cost the man an extra train ride, but Akaza appreciated the effort.
He heard his phone ping with another message as he moved to his bedroom, simultaneously drying down his body.
Dipshit: What floor and apartment number are you in? :wink:
The fucker’s already here?! Akaza panicked.
For once, he hated that he lived so close to the station.
Soyama Akaza: 3rd floor numb
Soyama Akaza: number 14
Akaza dug through his drawers for a pair of pants and boxers, before jogging over to the closet and yanking his chosen shirt and hoodie off their respective hangers. Praying that he and his hair were dry enough, he quickly shrugged on his tops. Tugging on his boxers, he ran down the hall and slid into the bathroom. Grabbing a comb, he quickly ran it through his short, unruly hair. Once he deemed it satisfactory, he unfolded his pants with a quick flick of his wrists.
There was a knock at the door, and Akaza hopped out of the bathroom and over to the entrance while fully pulling up his jeans.
Akaza slid on a pair of sneakers and snatched a cap from a nearby rack. Then, he unlocked and opened the door (a little more aggressively than he meant to) to the familiar sight of colorful eyes and a warm smile. With two fingers, the blond in front of him flicked up a pair of dark sunglasses to rest on top of his head.
“Mornin’,” Akaza wheezed.
Douma raised a teasing brow, “Good afternoon, Akaza-dono.”
Akaza scanned the taller man’s outfit with interest. He hadn’t seen Douma in anything but their office uniform or gym attire. The blond wore a red turtleneck, coupled with a pair of loose fitted tan pants. His long, golden hair was styled in a low ponytail that day rather than his usual braid. He looked… really good, but Akaza couldn’t help but be reminded of that one particular State Farm commercial.
Akaza took one look down at his own complete outfit, hoping nothing was out of place. He wore a baggy, pink sweatshirt and light washed denim jeans. On his head he sported a black, snapback cap with a simplistic, single snowflake design. And-
“Eh? You have piercings?” Douma asked with newly found curiosity, vibrant eyes moving down, scanning his figure, before flicking back up to his face.
Akaza adjusted the rim of his cap slightly, pointing to the simple, black ringed earring around his left lobe. Ah, he must’ve forgotten to take them off last night while he was picking out something to wear for that day. Thank god, otherwise he wouldn’t have had the time to put them on-
Wait- why did he care so much?
“Only on my ears.” Akaza idly lifted his hat, fingers combing through his hair. “Can’t wear them to work though, obviously.”
He furrowed his brows in confusion when Douma looked a bit disappointed with his answer, but ultimately let it go when he spoke again.
“Well, shall we get going?”
The train ride was pretty uneventful. Only the usual ramblings or small talk (almost entirely spoken by Douma, though Akaza threw in his two cents now and then). When they eventually alighted, Douma had eagerly led him to-
“The park?”
Then, Douma crowded into his space, his hands sliding over Akaza’s eyes.
“ What are you doing?” he questioned suspiciously, eyes narrowing under Douma’s fingers.
“It’s a surprise!” the blond exclaimed. “Aren’t you excited?”
“Do you really have to cover my eyes?”
“Tsk tsk, that’s part of the surprise, Akaza-dono.”
Douma sharply guided him out of the way of… something, and Akaza tripped over his feet. “Careful, dumbass,” he scolded, “I don’t want to bump into anything.”
“Sorry, sorry,” spoken with an expression that Akaza knew was not at all apologetic.
Soon, his skin cooled as he was led underneath what he assumed to be a tree, shielding him from the sun’s summer beams.
“We’re here!”
Douma’s hands fell away from his face, sliding down to rest on his biceps.
“Ah.”
Before him sat a simple setup. Under the shade of a large oak tree was a red quilt, spread on the grass. On top of the fabric rested a wooden, weaved basket.
A picnic.
Akaza wondered how Douma trusted leaving all that at the park alone this whole time.
“You like it?” His hand slid down to Akaza’s, intertwining their fingers. Akaza didn’t have a chance to react before he was being pulled over.
He was sat down on the blanket, cross legged, and across from him the other man got to work. Opening the basket, the other man carefully pulled out a few plates and glasses. Reaching back in, he pulled out tupperware. Packaged inside were little peanut butter and jelly sandwiches, cut neatly into triangles.
Geez, he really went all out on this…
Then, Douma was popping off the cork to a tall, green bottle.
Akaza raised a brow.
“Don’t worry, it’s not alcohol. I wouldn’t get you drunk this early in the day.” The blond laughed before continuing. “It’s sparkling cider,” he clarified, speaking with genuine excitement.
Looking at the man now, as he poured the drink into two matching wine glasses, Douma was undoubtedly the type of guy to like sparkling cider.
Their fingers brushed as Akaza was handed the glass. He swirled the golden liquid with a few lazy motions, listening to the soft crackle as it fizzled lightly.
“You sure put a lot of effort into this,” he said, not quite able to keep the awe out of his voice as a plate with two of those triangles was set before him.
“Only the best for my dear friend.” Then, Douma sat back and held up his glass. “A toast?”
“To what?”
“Our relationship,” he responded simply.
He blinked. Didn’t Douma mean friendship? Not that Akaza considered Douma a friend or anything. Of course not. Though, Akaza supposed that the word relationship also was correct.
“Why not.”
Akaza lifted his own glass and brang it forward. Its rim gently clinked against Douma’s. Then, he brought the glass back to his own lips to take a sip. He held back a face when the fizz made his nose and throat burn slightly. At least it didn’t taste bad, since it was basically apple juice with a kick.
Across from him, after taking his own drink, Akaza watched with disbelief as Douma proceeded to rip the crust of the bread, before shoving the sandwich into his mouth.
“What are you doing? ”
Spoken with a full mouth, “Eating?”
This fucking-
“Why are you- just eat the crust!”
Then, Douma reached down, eating the crust separately.
“You are an actual psychopath- what are you doing?’
After the child finished chewing through his food, Akaza had the sudden desire to bash his head into the bark of the nearby tree when he caught sight of the strawberry jam staining the corners of Douma’s lips.
He cursed under his breath and reached into the basket, pulling out a cloth napkin.
Akaza scooted forward on the blanket, rising to his knees to press the napkin to Douma’s face. “Why are you such a messy eater?” Akaza scolded, roughly wiping the jam off the corner of his mouth. “I can’t do anything with you, I swear.”
Douma’s eyes squeezed shut as he laughed in front of him, shoulders shaking. The pink haired man didn’t notice till then that the blond had a slight wheeze to his laugh, and that his cheeks dimpled when he grinned. Akaza gawked as the man giggled, heat rising to his face.
Then, he leaned back on his haunches scoffing with a stupid smile, tossing the used cloth in his hand to the side.
“You dumbass! Move over!”
“I can’t, stupid, there’s no space.”
Rustling, then a thump.
The pink haired man leaned to the side, looking around Douma at a hedge of bushes.
“Did you hear that?” Akaza asked.
Douma calmed down with a final snicker, and he tilted his head at Akaza with a small smile.
“Hear what?” Douma responded, sounding genuine.
Akaza blinked once, then twice. Did he seriously not hear?
Huh, maybe he was just imagining things.
“I’m sorry,” Akaza blurted out one evening.
They were once again standing in the company courtyard, on the bridge, the same place they stood in all those months ago. Douma’s fingers reached into a thin box, pulling out a certain chocolate coated snack.
“For what?” Douma asked, tone clueless, but Akaza noticed how the taller man’s eyes sparked with interest.
He knew.
“How I treated you. Before. It-” he paused, tongue kissing teeth, “It was pointless for me to treat you so shittily. You were just trying to be nice and I-” Akaza sighed. “I guess… I just couldn’t understand why, and I thought you were trying to mess with me.”
“It’s totally fine, Akaza-dono! Don’t sweat it, I’m not mad about it.” He offered Akaza a stick and it was accepted with a huff.
“Of course you’re not,” he chuckled bitterly, “you never get upset about anything.” He idly spun the pocky between his fingers. “I don’t get you.”
“Why would I? I don’t see a point in doing so.” Douma stuck a piece into his mouth, talking all the while, “Sure, you were a little… testy at first. But all it took was little time to get to know you! What matters is now , and you’re not like that anymore, are you?”
He stared at the other man for a few moments, before huffing. “You’re too forgiving,” he mumbled, solemnly nibbling at the end of his stick.
“And you’re too harsh on yourself,” he laughed, patting Akaza’s shoulder twice in quick succession.
“I literally threw your wallet into the pond,” Akaza deadpanned.
“It wasn’t hard to go and get it.”
Akaza paused.
“ Wasn’t hard- you went in there?!”
The image of Douma wading knee deep in the pond water below crossed Akaza’s mind.
“How else would I have gotten it back, silly?”
“Tch,” Akaza turned away, cheek smushing against his hand as he slumped against the fence. “Now I feel like shit.”
“Don’t worry, I thought it was fun!-” That was Douma’s idea of fun? “ -It’s water under the bridge, alright?”
Water under the-
“Oh ha ha,” Akaza said dryly around the snack in his mouth, “You’re hilarious.”
“I’m glad you think so, Akaza-dono.” He shook the box in his hand. “Want to play a game?”
“Absolutely not.”
Douma was in his thoughts more often than not.
Akaza would be doing the most mundane of things, like eating dinner or filling out a document, and his mind would simply wander.
Watching a movie with Douma, their hands brushing on the armrests but never truly intertwining.
Taking a walk with Douma, he would point out the types of birds that fly by.
Douma leaning in after a long day of work. Over the bridge of the courtyard, under the golden lights, fingers would lift Akaza’s chin oh so gently. Akaza would have to rise to his toes, and soft lips would brush against his own-
Akaza buried his face in his hands, cheeks burning.
Akaza shuddered, rubbing his palms together before blowing out hot air. His breaths were visible in the cold air, appearing as little puffs out from between his parted lips. He bit the inside of his cheek, hoping the minor pain would distract him from the chill.
Their group had just eaten, and were walking back to work.
“Geez! It’s so cold today!” Daki whined, turning to her brother. She clung to his sleeve, tugging on it. “Onii-chan do something!”
“What the hell do you want me to do about it?” Gyutaro grumbled, flicking her forehead. She squawked indignantly. “It’s not like I can control the weather.”
“I don’t know- give me your jacket or something!”
“You have your own. Besides, I’m freezing my ass off too.”
“It’s not even that cold! Come on, gimme it!”
“You just said you were cold, stupid!”
Akaza checked his phone, the date reading OCT 26 in rounded, white font.
Nope, not winter yet.
So why was it so fucking cold?
He was the least prepared out of the five of them. While each of the others were bundled up to varying degrees, Akaza only had the usual uniform on. He really should make a habit of checking the weather forecast.
“Want my jacket, Akaza-dono?” Douma, who donned a red scarf and some designer fleece jacket, offered. He reached up, giving a quick ruffle to Akaza’s already unruly hair. The touch warmed Akaza briefly, and he found himself disappointed when it disappeared.
“No,” he gritted, before sharply inhaling. His teeth began a slight chatter.
“You will… get yourself sick, Akaza,” Kokushibo said softly, adjusting the cuffs of his coat. “Again,” he added, after a few moments.
“Quiet, foureyes,” he retorted, but with no real bite. The man pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose with the name. “I didn’t think it would be this cold.”
Then, something warm and soft was being wrapped around his neck. It smelt like hyacinths and lotus flowers.
“If you won’t take my jacket, at least take my scarf.” He patted Akaza’s shoulder, like he was a car salesman patting the roof of a vehicle. “It’s one hundred percent, authentic wool~”
Akaza’s eyes ran a full arc while he adjusted the fabric around his neck, pulling it more snug. Douma and his stupid excitement for premium products.
It was cute, he thought.
...
What?
“Hey guys, let’s take a photo! I’ll tag your instas!” Daki exclaimed, holding up her phone.
“No,” her brother immediately shut her down.
“Come on, Gyu! It’s for the gram.”
“I don’t like pictures.”
“I’m fine with it!” Douma declared, holding out his hand in a thumbs up.
“As… am I,” Kokushibo agreed.
Simultaneously, they all turned to him, and Akaza’s face fell. Gyutaro shook his head slowly, silently ordering him to say no while Daki and Douma’s eyes practically glittered as they stared hopefully at him. Kokushibo was….well, with his usual indifferent expression.
Akaza dragged a hand down his face, resigning. “Yeah sure. Whatever.”
Gyutaro threw his head back in a groan, but his sister cheered with a few cute little skips as they walked. Douma sent him a warm smile, and Akaza found himself responding with a small one of his own. Not anything too big, of course. No, especially not for a certain blond.
They stopped by a window of a nearby store, and Daki pranced over to an adjacent bench to prop up her phone. Getting into position was an awkward affair, he wasn’t sure where to stand. Akaza panicked slightly, as the ten second countdown began.
10, 9, 8.
Once the girl returned, she threw her arm around her brother, sticking her tongue out and holding up two fingers in a peace sign.
7, 6, 5.
Gyutaro huffed, crossing his arms with a glower.
Kokushibo stood behind him, straightening up
4, 3, 2.
Akaza shuffled awkwardly to the side, adjusting the hood of his sweater.
Suddenly, he was being pulled in by the waist
1.
Daki’s phone captured the moment in an audible shutter.
As Akaza laid in bed that night, he soon realized that the scarf remained wrapped around his neck, even if they’d parted ways hours ago.
He also unfortunately realized that he had a crush.
His fantasies had become more domestic and drew on for longer. He would daydream for hours. It was distracting, he needed to get work done.
Douma and him cooking breakfast together. He remembered that Akaza doesn’t like nattō.
Douma’s chest pressed up against his back in a warm tub, his dexterous fingers massaging shampoo into his scalp at just the right pressure.
Douma kissing him goodnight after a candlelit dinner. He would taste like peppermint.
Then-
Douma holding Akaza down as he fucked him through overstimulation. He’d chuckle lowly in his ear as Akaza cried out, degrading him, calling him his little whore while he-
“Earth to Akaza!” Daki waved her hand in front of his face, shooting him a concerned look. Akaza blinked back into reality. “Hey, do you have that powerpoint presentation done? We kinda need it by tonight.”
“Yeah,” he choked out. “Almost done.”
Akaza sipped on his tea as he made his way down the hall. He clicked his tongue in annoyance. Where the hell was Douma? His break wasn’t all day, you know.
Then, as he was about to pass one of the rooms-
“-You got flowers? You’re so cute , Shinobu! Mind giving me a few tips?”
Akaza stopped dead in his tracks. On the edge of the doorframe, he peeked around the corner into one of the many building’s large rooms. A few spaces down, Douma leaned against Shinobu’s desk with a lazy smile. She smiled up at him… saying… something, but it wasn’t like Akaza could hear it at that moment.
Cute. Cute. Cute.
Wasn’t he cute too?
Slowly, he inhaled. One, two, three, four, five, he mentally counted, before exhaling shakily. Yes, he remembered seeing that somewhere. A site, a psa maybe?
Numbly, he continued down the hall.
One, two, three, four, five, he counted his footsteps as he moved.
One, two, three, four, five, he breathed in and out.
One, two, three, four, five months since Douma had helped him in the rain.
“Speak of the devil- what a coincidence to see you here! I was just on my way to come and find you~” A strong arm wrapped around his shoulder. “Wanna catch a movie after work? There’s this-”
Akaza roughly shoved him off, lips pulling back in a scowl.
Douma stumbled back a bit. He tilted his head, confused with Akaza’s sudden agression. “Are you alright? Did something happen?”
Akaza checked himself with the other man’s words.
He was acting irrationally, yes. Douma didn’t owe him his full attention… nor a relationship… yeah. Right. So what if he thinks Shinobu’s cute… that’s not any of his business.
“ Nothing, ” he said, turning on his heel. “Just leave me alone.”
But as time went on, it wasn’t just Shinobu.
It was with multiple girls.
Akaza had begun to notice a pattern. How hadn’t he before? A cute or beautiful here, a hand on or around the shoulder there. A pat on the head or sometimes even a soft kiss on the hand-
Douma was a flirt with plenty of girls.
He could forget for a little while sometimes. Like when Douma arrived at his apartment one day, bouquet in his hands.
“For you.” He held it out after Akaza had pulled open the door in nothing but a pair of sweats. Akaza took it from his hands wordlessly, his heart beginning to thump loudly in his chest. “You’ve been in a bad mood lately, so I figured I could try and cheer you up.” Offering a smile, he gestured to the bouquet. “Pink, white, and red camellias, red tulips, and a few chamomile. Freshly picked.”
Akaza brought them up to his nose, sniffing softly. Honestly, though beautiful, the flowers were a bit of a… strange combination, but either way it still had him flushing up to the tips of his ears.
He backed out of the doorway, allowing the space for Douma to step into his apartment. Turning, he eyed an old vase he made in his highschool’s handicrafts club.
Douma cleared his throat from behind him.
“So about that movie?”
It was getting harder to ignore.
Douma had been talking to girls more lately.
He was even chatting up Mrs. Kanroji, a married woman. Did he have no shame?
Yet he still had the nerve to prance on over to Akaza, singing his praises. Calling him cute or pretty, holding his hand or holding him close, when he’d turn around and flirt with various women in the building.
Shinobu, Mitsuri, Nezuko, Kotoha- how many girls did he fool around with? Douma would take his breaks to visit them instead of him. When he did visit Akaza, it was often with some awful pickup line. How many women did he tell those to, he wondered.
He stabbed his chopsticks into his bowl of rice, glaring at the utensils.
“Bad mood?” Douma asked from his seat across from him, before taking a bite of his egg.
Akaza glowered at the other man, scoffing.
At least the blond paid for his breakfast that morning.
Akaza stared at his steaming bowl of instant ramen, chopsticks picking and stirring the noodles around, but not with the intention to eat. He blinked tiredly, he couldn’t sleep. His thoughts had plagued him, hanging over him like an ever present storm cloud. The rhythmic tick tick tick of the clock on the wall was a constant, and he tapped his fingers against the surface of the table to the time of their beats.
What time was it? Late, probably.
Did he have work tomorrow? No, it was saturday.
Was he hungry? Not really.
Did Douma know? Did he?
Akaza wondered, as his grip on his chopsticks slackened and the wooden utensils sunk into the broth of his bowl. Wondered if Douma knew about his crush. He reflected on himself, fingers sliding to and wrapping around a glass of water, sitting innocently next to his bowl. Akaza hadn’t been the best at being inconspicuous. Throughout his life, he never had been; a practically open book to what emotion he felt at any given moment. His skin was pale, it was obvious when he blushed. When embarrassed, he’d talk faster; more aggressively.
Fuck him, he fit that stupid tsundere archetype he’d see in anime.
Tick tick tick.
But if Douma knew … and he still talked with all those girls…
He should have expected the man to be a player.
Tap tap tap.
“It’s fine, it’s fine,” Akaza mumbled frantically against the rim of his glass.
But if he didn’t know-
Tick tick tick.
That means Douma didn’t like Akaza back, if he were flirting with all those people.
Akaza’s grip tightened on the glass he was holding. He was sure if he added just a fraction more pressure it would shatter.
His fingers halted, before he slowly slid his arm off the table.
Or…
Was he being led on?
“I like you,” Douma said, simply. Casually, as if he just stated the weather. He sat, cheek in palm, across from him.
Akaza dropped his fork and knife, and it clattered loudly against his plate. The sound echoed loudly in his mind, reverbing, as if he were in an empty room and not a busy diner.
“...huh?” Akaza choked out weakly.
“I like you,” softer, tone more tender. Douma’s hand crept forward, reaching across the table to grasp at his hand. A large thumb slid gently over the rivets of his knuckles. “Don’t you feel the same way?”
His ears rang with an awful buzz. Time slowed to a crawl, and his heart picked up its pace, thudding against his rib cage and through his ears, like the chug of a hellish passing freight train. Akaza stared at a speck of dressing on his plate, truly hyper focused on it, as the pulse in his neck suffocated him. Distantly, he registered something that sounded like his name.
Akaza, Akaza-
“Akaza…”
The feeling of soft lips against the back of his palm, dragged him back to reality, where Akaza’s wide eyes met Douma’s saccharine smile, pressed up against his knuckles. Once he noticed Akaza’s eyes on him, he leaned back, hand sliding slowly up his arm, stopping to massage circles into the skin of his forearm.
He wasn’t the only one Douma’s done that for, recently.
“Come home with me tonight, Akaza,” he muttered softly, only meant for Akaza’s ears.
Well, at that moment.
Don’t you feel the same way? Douma’s words echoed back in his mind.
So he did know.
In his fantasies, he imagined when Douma would ask him to return home with him that he would feel a rush and flutter of butterflies, pooling in his stomach. A light and pillowy feeling, as if he were lifted to cloud nine. What he felt then was closer to the buzz of a bee, a hive of them, suffocating and stinging him, swarming around his heart and weighing it down.
Come home with him? Akaza bitterly wondered how many girls at work he’s asked that question to before. Did Douma not get enough? Was he not satisfied sleeping around with just women? Did he want to get in Akaza’s pants too, just because he could? Because he thought he was easy? The blond must have knew he liked him, because despite all his insults the man was far from stupid, and Akaza was far from being a good liar.
What a piece of shit, Akaza thought.
“You’re such a fucking asshole ,” he snarled, furiously wrenching his arm out of Douma’s grip.
Smile faulting, the blond released a confused, “Eh?”
Forcefully, he rose from his chair, the wooden legs screeching against the polished restaurant floor. Akaza could feel other patrons' eyes on them, as he frantically rubbed away at his rapidly approaching tears.
“Akaza-”
One, two, three, four, five.
One, two, three, four, five.
One, two-
He rounded the table, knocking the edge causing dishware to clatter; sprinting through and out the door, almost bumping into a couple on the way.
He heard the other man call after him, but he continued running.
Akaza took work off early that day.
In his younger days, as a child or teenager, he would have probably thrown something. Broke something. Taken his anger and sadness out on the wall, or a table. On someone at school, who had gotten on his nerves. A fist to his face, or his to another, was a great momentary stress reliever.
He was 22 now, and not a child anymore.
But that vase, the one that held those damn flowers, looked awfully throwable at the moment.
Akaza picked it up with a scowl, thumb tracing the repeating rectangular pattern of it’s ceramic.
Then, his eyes found the flowers. He glared at the vibrant petals. What did Douma say they were again? Camellias, tulips, and chamomiles?
The vase was set back down with a clink.
Douma kept trying to talk to him.
Akaza avoided him. He took different trains, going as far to change times each day so the other man never knew exactly which one he’d be on. He no longer visited the gym in the morning.
At work, he’d put extra effort into avoiding Douma. Lunches were taken on the roof. He’d fetch a chair from storage and prop it under the eventrance’s door knob, preventing it from opening.
Akaza couldn’t talk to the others often without risking talking to Douma, so he avoided them too.
Though, occasionally, the blond wouldn’t be around, and he’d approach them with a small wave or a simple ‘hey’.
But when he did, he found that they treated him coldly. Blunt responses, or none at all. Daki and Gyutaro would have matching glares, and Kokushibo would turn away his head.
It’s whatever, he told himself.
He didn’t need them anyways.
Akaza spent his break alone.
He was lonely.
Everything was so quiet.
Akaza eyed the scarf he left hanging on his chair. He grabbed it and wrapped it loosely around his neck. It still smelt like him.
The sound of a car passing by was heard vaguely from outside as he flopped back into his bed, curling onto his side. Reaching into his hoodie pocket, he dug out his phone. After popping in a pair of earbuds, he picked a playlist and turned up the volume of the first song that came up on shuffle.
He took a deep breath, before reaching down and thumbing open the button of his jeans.
Akaza ate his breakfast alone.
Akaza watched from where he leaned on the roof’s safety rail as his old group of friends left the building, seemingly smiling and laughing without him.
Douma was there too.
Akaza stared for a little longer as they disappeared down the block, before turning away.
Akaza went on a run. A jewelry shop had a necklace on the window display. The gem was a glimmering opal, reflecting off the light from the street lamp hanging over him. The kaleidoscope of colors reminded him of Douma’s eyes.
He took a different route from then on.
Akaza ate his dinner alone. His eyes wandered as he chewed, and he eyed the pot set on the coffee table, filled with the flowers from Douma’s bouquet. Despite his care, they began to wilt at the edges.
He missed his friends.
He missed Douma.
He ran into Douma at the printer. The blond perked up at his presence, and offered him a smile and a small wave.
Akaza grabbed his papers, and clipped his shoulder roughly on the way out.
Akaza ate his lunch alone.
He rested under the rooftop’s single tree, feet crossed on the concrete rim that bordered the soil. The space was strewn with autumn leaves, from the baring branches with the approaching winter season. It was chilly, perhaps he should begin to eat his lunches inside.
Akaza shook his head, reasoning with himself. No, how stupid. If he did he had more of a chance of running into the others.
“Just talk to him already, you bitch.”
Akaza looked up from his phone, expression flat as he came face to face with a certain silver haired girl. Then, he glanced over to the rooftop’s door, seeing the splintered remains of the chair he used to block the entrance. He must have zoned out again. Additionally, he was mildly impressed. She was stronger than he thought.
Daki stood in front of him with hands planted on her hips. She looked… pissed, with a deep, angry scowl Akaza had never seen on her before, even when dealing with their colleague Nezuko.
“You can’t avoid us forever,” she said, sneering.
Oh, he could avoid them for as long as he wanted.
He bared his teeth up at her, grip tightening on the edges of his phone as he spat, “Go to hell, whore- ”
SMACK.
The sound echoed loudly on the silent rooftop.
His cheek stung.
Slowly, he brought a palm up to his face where Daki had slapped him. Wide eyed, fingertips brushing the numbing flesh.
“You’re such an asshole!” she cried, with bunched fists as she leaned forward, invading his space as she shouted. “All he does is whine about you! We can’t talk to him without him looking like a damn kicked puppy-”
He was the asshole?
“Yeah,” he muttered, “and I don’t care- ”
He grunted when Daki slammed the sharp edge of her heel down into his foot hard.
“I’m not finished, dumbass! Don’t care my ass. Even Tanjiro can tell better fucking lies than you.” She leaned forward, jabbing a finger sharply into his chest. It stung with those long, designer nails she wore, biting into his skin even underneath the fabric of his shirt. “What- he confessed his feelings for you and you just ran away?! Do you think It’s funny? Just playing with him like that?”
Playing with him? Akaza made an incredulous noise, taken back. Mister perfect really did have her wrapped around his finger, didn’t he?
“You’ve been avoiding him for weeks. Us for weeks. How fucking petty can you be?”
It has been weeks, hasn’t it?
Akaza swallowed thickly, gaze lowering to the concrete. He watched Daki’s shoes shift as she shouted at him. His cheek buzzed, numbing.
“When you like someone, and they like you back, you begin dating! You like him- ah ah, don’t even try denying it! For months you looked at him like you wanted him to fuck you. Literally like he was the only one in the room, and that is a feat since I am pretty sexy.”
A noise died in his throat, anxiety eating away at his lungs and chest.
He really was that obvious, wasn’t he? Akaza was torn between the urge to laugh bitterly or to break his fingers against a nearby concrete wall.
“He liked you back, but you ran away like a little bitch. Why, when you could easily be off in each other’s pants right now? What would avoiding him do for you?”
He felt blood trail down his cheek where Daki’s rings had nicked him.
Why?
Because….
“ Are you blind?” Akaza seethed. “Because he doesn’t like me like that, Daki! That asshole is the one playing around with me. ” He jabbed his hand and into his own chest, punctuating his words. His lids burned with forming tears and he forced them away with a few blinks. He would not cry over Douma. “I’m not someone who will settle for a few fucks before he decides he’s tired of me,” he spat. “So what if he ‘likes me’ or calls me cute?” his voice trailed as he continued, weakening, “...he calls other girls that too… I’m not special. Not to him.”
For the briefest moment, Akaza does not think he’d ever heard a silence so silent. Even with the whistle of the wind and the rustle of the remaining leaves that stubbornly clung to their wooden homes. The skitter of their dead, wilted kin against the coarse concrete.
Then, she spoke again.
“...Are you fucking kidding me, Akaza?” she asked in utter disbelief. “He is gay. Gay as fuck. Gay for you.” Daki punctuated each word with a little jab from her finger into his forehead. “Literally has a rainbow pin on his bag gay.”
What.
His eyes flew up to Daki’s incredulous expression, looking as if she had just heard the stupidest thing in the world. She didn’t seem as angry anymore. There was a hint of understanding in her eyes.
“He is?” Akaza choked out.
She threw her hands up in the air dramatically.
“Yes you dumb bitch. Maybe if you got your head out of your ass for once you’d realize that he treats you completely differently from any of those girls. In fact, he treats you completely different from any guy. Did he buy anyone besides you flowers? Did he take anyone out on a silly little picnic with your favorite foods besides you?” She knew about that?! Akaza thought incredulously. “Did he take anyone else out on a lunch date and tell them directly that he liked them? No. Absolutely no one but you.”
Akaza furrowed his brow, considering what she said.
Ah… she made a good point.
But still, his mind argued, what reason would he have to talk to all those women?
He scoffed, gritting his teeth. He stood abruptly, pushing past her and making his way towards the door.
“Fine!” She stamped her foot down, huffing. “Be that way! Don’t talk to us until you get your shit together.”
...
[ 2 Weeks Later, Christmas Eve ]
“Merry Christmas everyone! Thank you for your hard work!”
Akaza worked rapidly to pack his belongings. Quickly, he shrugged on his winter jacket and shouldered his bag. He practically jogged down the aisle, through a chorus of Merry Christmas and Happy Holidays being exchanged by colleagues. The room was busy, people up and about, cleaning their work spaces and readying themselves to head home.
They had gotten an influx of work during the holidays, meaning the whole department had to stay overtime. It was late evening, and Akaza was strangely wide awake. Hopefully he would be able to reach the station in time before the last train and he wouldn’t have to stay at some run down love hotel for the night.
Though, that might be a preferable fate that having a run in with him.
As he reached the head of the room, he glanced back and caught a glimpse of blond hair heading his way.
Akaza ducked his head down, hoping he wouldn’t be noticed among the office’s hustle and bustle. He took a left, pushing his way through a hefty door and quickly descending the stairway down to the lobby. Being stuck in an elevator with Douma was the last thing he wanted right now.
Soon enough, he was out the lobby doors and stepping into the frigid outdoors. It had begun to snow, powder white lightly dusting the sidewalk. He fished his phone out of his pocket as he walked, and the bright screen illuminated his face slightly in the night.
11:02 PM it read.
His stare lingered on the photo he set as his home screen.
It was that picture taken months ago. Even Kokushibo was smiling in it.
Douma had his arm wrapped around Akaza's waist, and his red scarf was wrapped around Akaza’s neck. He smiled dazzlingly at the camera, body leaned into Akaza’s personal space.
He remembered how warm he had felt that day, even under the autumn breeze.
Akaza adjusted his coat in the cold air, the chill nipping at his cheeks and ears.
He wished he had that scarf.
Akaza took one last look at the photo, at himself and the lopsided smile he wore in that moment, before pocketing his phone and increasing his pace. The final train departed at 11:30, and he was about ten minutes away from the station.
He bleaky realized he couldn’t take a different train than Douma. Maybe he’d be able to board a different car.
His dress shoes padded quickly against concrete as he descended a flight of stairs. With a quick swipe of his pass, he entered the station. It was mostly empty, and only a few other people stood waiting for the stop, spread out around the space. Akaza continued down, deciding to wait behind a pillar where the final car would likely stop. He wasn’t in direct view of the entrance, he hoped Douma wouldn’t notice him.
Akaza thought he’d successfully avoided the other man, until he heard familiar footsteps, leisurely but measured, echoing in the near silent tunnel, approaching his position.
He sighed in frustration, and ducked his head down, leaning heavier onto the pillar.
The footsteps slowed to a stop right beside him, and Akaza refused to look at the blond, even when the pungent scent of cigarette smoke reached his nostrils and piqued his curiosity.
Douma smoked?
“Spending Christmas alone, Akaza-dono?”
That voice, which he hasn’t heard in weeks, asked in a teasing way, yet with an undeniable hint of… something.
“...Don’t patronize me with the honorific, asshole.”
Douma snorted, and took another slow drag of his cigarette. Puffs of smoke escaped his mouth as he spoke. “Well then, Akaza, I’ve got no one either!” The blond’s irritatingly energetic voice echoed in the near empty station.
Akaza scoffed, shoving his hands deeper into his pockets. “Seriously? Thought you’d have plenty of whores to warm your bed,” he grumbled, not quite repressing the waver in his voice as his teeth chattered slightly from the cold.
“Why would I?” Douma began slowly, and paused. After a few moments, Akaza finally turned to look at the other man. “When I could have you?”
Akaza swallowed, cheeks flushing. The blond dropped his cigarette to the floor, stamping it out with a simple press of his toe. Then, he smiled softly, leaning down into his personal space-
“Are you calling me a whore?”
How shallow could he be?
Douma froze and blinked, processed what Akaza had said, then chuckled. “Not what I was going for, but if you’re into that I’d be happy to.”
A laugh. Was he even treating Akaza seriously?
“Warm your own bed in hell, shit head,” he growled.
Then, Douma’s smile fell wry, and he finally addressed the elephant in the room.
“You’ve been upset with me. Why is that?”
Akaza didn’t respond, instead redirecting his gaze into the ground. Douma planted his hand on the pillar behind Akaza, looming over him. It made Akaza nervous, his hands itched with the desire to push the man back.
“Is it because I said I liked you? Because It’s true. And honestly?” Closer. He was closer to Akaza now. “I think it may be more than that. Our time apart made me realize that. More than ever.”
“Is this love? Did I fall in love with you, Akaza?”
Love?
“...Did you?” were the only two words Akaza could produce in response. They were under his breath, barely a whisper, yet Douma heard him loud and clear.
“I think so. I really do,” he leaned in further, and Akaza could feel the warm breath fanning against his face, “and I think you did too.”
He couldn’t quite stare at the ground anymore, as Douma stepped forward and intercepted his view.
“You’ve been avoiding me for weeks,” Douma reached forward, paused only briefly when Akaza flinched a bit, and tentatively cupped his cheek in an open palm, “I’ve missed you, you know.” The blond’s thumb trailed feather light just under his bottom lash, causing them to flutter shut. “I think we should make up for that lost time tonight, hm?”
Akaza’s eyes shot open as the train slowed into the station, hissing as it crawled to a halt. The doors slid open beside the two men, and in the distance Akaza heard the sound of a few people entering their respective cars.
After a few moments, he shoved the blond back by the shoulders roughly, and Douma stumbled back, nearly tripping back over his feet. He looked up at Akaza, with wide eyes and parted lips.
Fuck Douma. Fuck him.
His lids burned, Akaza thought, and roughly swiped at his eyes with a bunched up fist.
The skin came back wet.
Ah.
Goddammit.
As his cold flushed cheeks trailed with warm tears, Douma stared at him, motionless; speechless.
Finally, something besides a damn smile, he thought with contempt.
Akaza pivoted sharply.
Stepping into the car, he made sure to choose the seat at the very far end. Maybe the other man would take a hint for once in his life and sit far, far away from him. Near carelessly, he dropped his bag on the ground and slumped back against the seat, desperately blinking his lashes.
His sight was blurry with tears. He still hadn’t stopped crying. How embarrassing.
Fingers dug harshly into the fabric of his slacks as he sniffled. Hot tears ran down his face as he stared at the floor panels, dripping off the tip of his nose to sink into his clothing. He quickly swallowed, arms shaking when it only made that unbearable feeling in his chest worse. His nose was stuffy from crying, he couldn’t breathe. If he breathed through his mouth, then it would be more obvious he were crying.
He was going to get himself sick if he kept this up. Yeah, that would suck.
How pathetic. How had he become that weak? He was a grown man, he wasn’t supposed to cry like this.
Douma shouldn’t see him like this.
Those footsteps again, stopping at his side once more. Akaza didn’t look up, he was a mess. Douma was always so damn put together, he hated it. He hated him. He hated Douma for making him so weak. Weak enough to cry, as if he were a child again. He hated Douma for making him feel like shit. For playing with his feelings, tugging at his heartstrings. Hated him for being so perfect.
Akaza hated Douma for making him fall in love.
Douma slowly lowered himself in the seat next to Akaza. He had angled himself to face Akaza, tentatively reaching out to enclose his hand with his own larger one, thumb tracing slowly over the divots of his knuckles. Akaza hiccuped at the intimate touch, body shaking even harder as he frantically tried to calm himself; hopelessly trying to keep himself together as best he could.
“Look at me,” Douma commanded softly. His tone was gentle. A different kind of gentle, not the teasing kind like that day in the rain, nor the one he heard in that restaurant.
Akaza shook his head. He wouldn’t, couldn’t.
He heard Douma sigh, before fingers were tenderly grasping his chin, slowly turning Akaza’s head to look at him. Through cloudy vision, Akaza saw a smile again. Not that usual wide grin, but a sad one. Apologetic, with those usually bright, playful eyes swirling with sorrow.
His hand slid up his face, thumb wiping away at his eyes.
“Poor thing,” he cooed, “you’ll get yourself sick.”
Akaza broke at those words, heart shattering.
He would, wouldn’t he?
A new wave of tears flowed down his flushed cheeks, and he inhaled harshly through his lungs. Immediately, arms were wrapping around him and pulling him close. The angle was awkward as Douma hugged him, whispering comforting, sweet nothings as Akaza sobbed over his shoulder.
He was going to ruin that expensive coat of his.
“Hey now, shhhh,” Douma hushed him, rubbing soothing circles into the small of his back.
Akaza coughed violently, failing at holding back his hiccups as he trembled. His fingers clawed deeply into Douma’s shoulder blades. It must have hurt, Akaza thought, but the other man showed no sign of pain as he embraced him, gently swaying the both of them back and forth in a gentle rock as Akaza emptied his tears.
The train rattled slightly as it traveled down It’s path, but Douma supported him all the while. His words, when Akaza could briefly focus on them, were meaningless by definition. They were nearly incomprehensible mumbles, but Akaza could pick out some ‘it's okay’ and ‘I’m here’ in there. They meant the world to Akaza, with the way they were so lovingly uttered.
He wasn’t sure how much time had passed when his sobs had died down. When he sat slumped, limply leaning into Douma’s chest while the taller man pressed small kisses into the top of his head. They had stopped their swaying, but Douma’s arms still remained firmly wrapped around him. He probably looked like a mess, with flushed cheeks and swollen eyes.
At least he wasn’t cold anymore, his mind supplied, dryly.
“Are you serious?” he mumbled weakly into the crook of Douma’s neck. His voice was hoarse from crying. “About… how you feel about me?”
“Of course,” he responded genuinely.
“And… you’re not interested in those girls at work?”
Douma fell silent after that, and Akaza’s heart dropped.
He felt like crying again.
Then-
“ What? ” Douma asked incredulously, pulling away and holding Akaza back by the shoulders.
“You would like- call them cute or whatever.” Akaza sputtered, “And- and- touch them.”
Douma blinked. Once twice, before he turned away and wheezed. Palms splayed on his thighs as he bent over, laughing hysterically, as if what Akaza had just said was the funniest thing in the world. Between laughs, he gasped out, “Akaza I’m not interested- in women- that way!”
It was Akaza’s turn to blink.
“Shit. She wasn’t lying,” he muttered.
Douma was still howling in laughter. “I can’t breathe!” He said, before falling into another fit.
“Because you would- you would talk to all these girls, too,” Akaza clumsily elaborated. “You were… really friendly with them. Too friendly.”
Douma finally calmed down a bit, sitting up and wiping away a tear from his eye.
“You were jealous,” he said, absolutely.
“Wha- I- no I was not!” Akaza stammered. The fucking nerve of this man.
“You were! You were jealous~” Douma practically sang.
He gritted his teeth. “Shut the fuck up-”
“I didn’t know you had a jealous streak, Akaza,” he said, voice high in mock surprise. Akaza glowered, slumping back against his seat and crossing his arms with a huff. “Aw don’t be like that,” Douma leaned back with him, tossing an arm around his shoulder. “Like you said, it was only friendly. I’m just a really affectionate guy,” he laughed, and Akaza shot him an unimpressed look. “Don’t worry, Akaza, you’re the only one for me! From now on, I’ll give you my undivided attention.”
He bristled. “What were you even talking to them about anyways?”
Douma smiled, a bit bashfully, “About you, actually.”
That caught Akaza’s interest.
“About me?”
“About you,” Douma repeated. “I would ask for advice on how to court you. Who better to ask than women? They love romance,” then, as if it were an afterthought, he added, “And I would practice with them.”
…
Fucking practice ?!
“Fucking practice?!” Akaza couldn’t help but laugh at that, eyes squeezing shut as he snickered. That explained…well, a lot. He peeked one eye open as his shoulders shook, seeing Douma stare at him with a beaming grin.
“You are so- stupid, ” Akaza chuckled.
A laugh, “Maybe I’m not the only stupid one here,” Akaza elbowed him roughly, “Ah, this all led to such a huge misunderstanding…” he leaned in, face inches away from Akaza’s, expression softening, “but I think it was worth it in the end. In taking their advice I’ve spent some of my best moments with you.”
“ Gross. Too romantic,” the pink haired man said, pushing away Douma’s face with the palm of his hand and pointing at his open mouth in a fake gag. Despite that, the blond’s words warmed his heart, and it was obvious in the smile on his face. They were the biggest relief to Akaza, as well.
Douma pulled back with a fake pout. “Wasn’t I clear that my intention is indeed romance?”
“Yeah but-” Akaza waved his hand twice, resigning. “Whatever.”
“Aw, how cute,” Douma coed, gently pinching Akaza’s cheek between his thumb and forefinger and stretching it slightly. Akaza smacked his hand away with a roll of his eyes.
He sat back against his seat. A few moments later, he hesitantly shifted his weight, slowly lowering his head to rest on Douma’s shoulder. He heard Douma’s soft laugh, before he was pulled even closer.
Akaza’s mind drifted, he wasn't sure when his eyes drifted shut. He was half asleep by the time Douma spoke again.
“My stop is soon,” he whispered, “Last chance.”
“... fine ,” Akaza drawled, before snuggling back into the warmth that was Douma’s shoulder.
…
After exiting off the train, Akaza was led into an expensive looking area, fingers intertwined with the other man. The sidewalks were in pristine condition, and the hedges that bordered them were clean cut. Douma swung their hands as they walked, humming a soft little tune under the low hanging street lights.
“Almost there. Just around the corner,” Douma assured.
Soon, they were stepping through the lobby doors to a large building. The elegant, bronze sign near the entrance read Paradise Apartments in a cursive font. Douma was friendly with passing staff and presumably neighbors, sending a wave and cheerful hello to each and every one that was out at the current hour.
Stepping into the elevator, Akaza could truly tell the other man was absolutely giddy. Douma had led him in by the hand, a bit more forcefully than he was expecting, with a goofy smile plastered on his face. He didn’t let him go once they stopped, only briefly turning away to select his floor before turning back to him with that warm expression.
The pink haired man quickly looked away, scoffing. Despite that, he couldn’t help the dumb smile from forming on his face. Usually, he wouldn’t be able to shut the other man up. It made him nervous, strangely, and it had him wishing the blond would say something- anything- to fill the silence as they stepped out of the lift and he was led down the hall.
Then, Douma squeezed his hand gently, and the feeling simultaneously comforted Akaza and made his heart want to burst. The whole situation was dumb and stupid, Akaza thought. Every moment and every action shared was sluggishly sappy, a juxtaposition to his rushing pulse and anticipation. It was so… lame. He felt as if he were a part of some holiday romance movie… and frankly, he might as well be.
Douma slowed to a stop in front of a door at the hall’s end. The small, bronze plaque (matching that which was on the first floor) adjacent to the door had the number 31 etched into it. While the blond used his free hand to dig through his pockets in search of his keys, Akaza rocked back and forth on his heels anxiously. Moments later, he heard the lock click open, and the warmth surrounding his hand was gone, instead reappearing on the small of his back as he was guided into the apartment.
Douma helped divest Akaza of his jacket, turning the shorter man to face him and insisting on even dragging down the zipper, to which the pink haired man complied with a snort and a roll of his eyes. He glanced up at Douma once, briefly, before looking away immediately when meeting the blond’s bright eyes already watching him. His jacket was hung up on the rack, shortly followed by Douma’s own coat, leaving him only in his white button up and slacks. Reflexively, he undid the first few buttons of his shirt, and Akaza could practically feel the taller man’s eyes on him.
“So, now what?” he asked, in a rare moment where Akaza was the one to break the ice between them. When Douma remained silent for a few, achingly long moments, Akaza finally looked back up-
To find Douma’s gaze focused directly on the newly exposed plane of skin of his neck and collarbone.
Akaza’s breath caught, and he watched as Douma’s eyes lingered, before traveling further down his body. Then, Akaza took in the sight of Douma subconsciously licking his lips. He choked out a strangled noise, before breathing in deep to calm himself down (somewhat).
“ Oi , Douma, my eyes are up here ,” he grumbled, pointing up to his face, voice strained from embarrassment.
Douma blinked once, twice, before his gaze snapped back up to meet Akaza’s eyes.
“Sorry, sorry, where are my manners?” he said, tone bashful but expression not at all sorry. “Did you want something to drink?” The blond pivoted, slinging an arm around Akaza’s shoulder and guiding him further into the apartment. He hunched slightly as they walked, speaking directly into Akaza’s ear, “Water? Tea? Hot chocolate?”
Akaza was brought into the living room. It was a cozy place, with a ruby red sofa and a dark oak coffee table set before it. There was a sleek flat screen mounted on the wall, underneath of which rested a stout shelf lined with various memorabilia and small succulents. A few pots rested in a corner of the room, and displayed on the wall above were two large, splayed golden fans. The kitchen was separated by a marble island counter on the right, and continuing down the left was a dimly lit hallway, which Akaza assumed led to the bedroom. Douma’s residence was significantly larger and more furnished compared to Akaza’s simplistic living space, but he noted that the man lacked any sort of family photo.
“How can you afford all this?” Akaza blurted out, soon realizing that it was probably rude to ask, and the blond guided him down to sit on the sofa.
“Old money,” Douma said simply, before smirking. “Asking for a particular reason, Akaza?” he teased.
Akaza scoffed. “Just wondering,” then, remembering Douma’s previous question, he added, “And… hot chocolate. Please.”
“Oh ho, please? I’ve reached yet another milestone with you.”
Then he leant down, and Akaza squeaked when Douma quickly pecked him on the check before padding over to the kitchen. Akaza’s fingers brushed against the spot, the feeling of the other man’s lips lingered on his flushed skin as if they were seared onto it.
It was embarrassing, but Douma couldn’t see it, so he allowed himself one stupid grin as he stared dreamily at the wall.
Then, he felt his phone vibrate with a notification. He reached into his jacket, fishing it out.
Shabana Daki: Hey gay ass! :nail_care:
Fucking Daki.
Akaza groaned, before subjecting himself to the torture of reading the rest of her messages.
Shabana Daki: Congratulations dumbass!! <3 It’s about time, only took you two over a month :sob:. HAVE FUN TONIGHT :weary: :wink: :revolving heart: :eggplant: :sweat_droplets:
That girl was fucking dead when he saw her again.
Shabana Daki: Merry Christmas btwwwwwwwwww!! Gyu says hi :kissing_closed_eyes:
Scrunching his nose, Akaza shut off his phone with a disgusted expression, tossing it carelessly onto the coffee table. It slid, before lighting up cheerfully with another message.
Shabana Daki: And I better be invited to your wedding :pleading: <3
“Did something happen?” Douma asked with a raised brow, rounding the couch with two steaming mugs. The beverage was topped with a heap of whipped cream and a generous amount of marshmallows.
“Nah.” He answered simply, as if he weren’t planning the murder of their mutual friend, accepting the mug after it was offered to him.
After taking a sip, the hot beverage warmed his body as it traveled down his stomach. It was good, there was no doubt that Douma didn’t settle for the packet variety and instead used quality ingredients. Though… he didn’t really like marshmallows, but it wasn’t like he would tell the blond that.
Douma sank into the cushion beside him, close enough that their knees just barely touched.
“Wanna watch a movie?” His free arm slunk around Akaza, perched on the backrest.
“Sure.”
What Douma ultimately decided on was one of those classic Christmas movies. The lights had been dimmed, leaving the television screen as their primary light source. The cocoa stayed nestled in his palms as the movie went on, and occasionally he’d hear the small sounds of the other man lifting his own mug off the coffee table before he eventually set it back down. Akaza’s eyes mostly stayed glued to the screen. The plot was pretty interesting, something about an elf trying to find his biological father in the tall maze of buildings that was New York City.
He truly wasn’t sure how long had passed when Akaza looked over to Douma and saw his eyes intently watching him and not the movie.
Akaza swallowed, eyes glancing back to whatever the protagonist was doing at the moment. Something about buying his father a gift, he mused. Yeah, that was right. His gaze flitted back and forth between the screen and to the side, and Douma’s eyes still hadn’t left him. Eventually, he sighed, tongue idly rolling against the inside of his teeth. He shifted, turning till his legs were up on the couch and he was facing the other man.
Douma held up the remote, turning the flat screen’s volume down low.
The blond scooted forward slightly, and the couch creaked as the weight shifted. Tentatively, he raised his hand, setting it in that oh so familiar place on Akaza’s cheek. He leaned in and in, til their faces were mere inches apart. Their lips brushed for the merest moment.
“You’re so pretty,” Douma murmured, thumb tracing featherlight over Akaza’s long lashes. He spoke as if he were in awe, and it made Akaza simultaneously want to both punch and kiss him.
“Be quiet,” Akaza grumbled, though he didn’t pull away, instead leaning into that warm palm, “You’re so annoying.”
A soft chuckle. “You like it.”
Akaza didn’t respond to that, huffing. It seemed Douma got enough of an answer from his reaction, if the satisfied hum was any indicator.
So annoying.
Akaza’s lashes fluttered as Douma reached forward, slowly taking the half finished mug from his hands and setting it on the coffee table with a clink in the near silent room. His heart beat faster and faster, louder in his ears and against his chest; he was positive Douma could hear it.
“I've wanted this for months. Almost a year now, you know.” Douma leaned impossibly closer. Their noses bumped together.
“What stopped you?” Akaza asked sarcastically. He could only see the other man’s eyes now. So utterly beautiful and vibrant, as they reflected the moving light from the nearby screen.
“Mm,” Douma’s eyes fell half lidded, and he hummed pensively, “you play hard to get.”
Their lips brushed for the last time as Douma finally closed the gap between them. Akaza’s eyes fluttered shut as lips moved against his. It was soft, slow, and sweet, and somehow both everything like he’d imagined and nothing like it at all. It was better, he thought, as a tongue swept across his bottom lip. He parted his own, allowing Douma to gently lick into his mouth.
Distant dialogue rumbled lowly in the background as they moved. Akaza’s hands trailed up and over Douma’s shoulders, toying with the braided hair there as arms snaked down and around his waist. They parted gradually, with a soft noise, and Akaza exhaled lightly as Douma pressed their foreheads together. It wasn’t as overwhelming as he’d thought it would be, yet it felt amazing , the feeling like the sound of distant fireworks going off in his mind and chest (though, that could also be the sound of his accelerating heart).
He was about to lean in again; chase the other man’s lips because he wanted more, but Akaza hesitated when Douma whispered, gesturing to the far wall with a little tilt of his head.
“Ah, I didn’t notice the time.”
Akaza craned his head, eyes catching on the hands of the wooden clock hung high up.
1:30 AM, it read.
“Merry Christmas, Akaza.”
Akaza blinked once, twice, before muttering, “Merry Christmas, Douma.”
Then, Douma’s face lit up, as if he just realized something. The blond sat back abruptly, and Akaza nearly complained with the loss of proximity.
“Give me a second,” Douma said quickly, pecking him on the lips this time, before getting up and disappearing down the hall.
Soon, he returned with a flat white box, held together by red ribbon.
“I got you something.” He held it out, and Akaza accepted it with wide eyes.
Akaza furrowed his brows. “But I didn’t get you anything.”
“That’s okay! You can make it up to me on Valentine's Day.” The blond winked, and the implications behind what Douma said had Akaza’s face burning.
Carefully, Akaza grabbed one end of the bow, and pulled it undone. His fingers trailed the sides of the lid, before slowly pulling it off.
“Ah.”
Nestled in the box, surrounded by red wrapping paper, was a neatly folded white scarf with a navy blue striped pattern.
“I realized you get cold easily,” Douma chuckled, probably remembering that time Akaza slipped and fell in the rain, “and you still haven’t returned my scarf. So, I figured I’d get you your own. Though, feel free to keep the other one! I like seeing it on you- mmph! ”
Akaza cut the other man off with a searing kiss, hands gripping hard at the collar of Douma’s shirt he dragged him down. The taller man barely managed to toss the opened gift to the side before he was rolling back onto the couch beside him, the unfinished movie and hot chocolate long forgotten. He kneeled between Akaza’s legs, kissing him more roughly; passionately, so unlike the tender kiss they had just shared minutes ago. That tongue slipped into Akaza’s mouth again, forcibly, not asking for permission this time and licking all the way to his back teeth.
Large hands trailed up his thighs, and snaked around his waist, grabbing his ass and eagerly pulling him forward. Akaza yelped in surprise, muffled by the other man’s lips on his own, as he clumsily fumbled forward into Douma’s lap. While Douma hungrily devoured his mouth with the fervor of a starving man, fingers snuck under Akaza’s button up, thumbs moving down to rub slow circles into the skin of his hip.
Then, those hands trailed up, walm palm and fingers splaying on his toned stomach, making him shudder. Up and up, exploring along his ribs, groping at his chest, before thumbs and forefingers came to pinch at his nipples, sending sudden sparks of electricity racing down his spine. Akaza’s eyes shot open, and he moaned loudly into the kiss. Douma responded with a deep groan, and Akaza dug his nails roughly into the man’s shoulder blades.
Akaza whimpered, vision blurring from the lack of oxygen. He broke the kiss with a sputter, panting heavily. Drool dribbled down the corner of his mouth, and he used the back of his hand to slowly wipe it off. Douma’s eyes peeked open slightly, and between narrowed lids Akaza could see just how dark his eyes were, his extraordinary colorful irises reduced to a mere sliver around his blown pupils.
Douma smiled, expression smug as Akaza stared at him with red kissed lips and a flushed face. Akaza watched the other man, examined him in a drunken haze. He had never been that close before, never close enough to notice the occasional slight blemish on his fair skin, or the slight crinkle under his eyes when he smiled. It reminded Akaza that Douma was human , not just some perfectly charming being designed to annoy the shit out of him at work.
God, Douma was right.
He was in love.
“You’re beautiful,” the blond said, and how dare he steal the words right out of Akaza’s mouth. He spoke so tenderly, genuinely, with a smile that nearly made Akaza swoon.
“Shut up ,” Akaza muttered, looking away in embarrassment. That bold and brash painting on the wall was looking awfully interesting at the moment.
“Never. I could go on about you all day ,” he declared playfully. His hands left Akaza’s shirt, but not without a final tweak to his nipples, drawing out an embarrassing squeak from the smaller man. Akaza’s head turned back to sharply face the blond, golden eyes glared at the man below him. Douma chuckled, planting a soft kiss on his forehead in apology (he was far from sorry, Akaza knew).
They cupped his face gently, as if he were handling a fragile porcelain, and Akaza instinctively leaned into the touch. It was warm , skin mostly soft, but with a few calluses along his upper palm. At that moment, Akaza thought that the two of them could stay like that forever. Simply having Douma hold him close, where they could bask in each other’s presence.
But that was boring.
You know what, Akaza thought.
Fuck it.
“Fine then,” he said pointedly. “Go on, sing my praises, Douma-dono,” he challenged, with a daring grin spreading on his face.
Douma was caught off guard for a few moments, but he quickly matched his expression with a smile of his own. A confident one, with canines (sharper than Akaza had originally thought, now that he was up close) peeking out from under parted lips in a slight open mouthed smile. It was more than just a smile, but a promise.
“Of course, Akaza-dono,” he whispered, before suddenly shifting his grip down to Akaza’s ass roughly, and hoisting him up. Akaza yelped, knees hastily wrapping around the man’s waist and hands clinging to broad shoulders, desperately trying to gain purchase to not slip and fall.
“What are you doing?!” Akaza hissed out, as Douma began walking down the hall.
“Carrying you to the bedroom,” Douma answered lightly.
“I can walk you know!” Akaza protested.
“You can,” Douma agreed.
“Put me down!”
“No,” spoken with a cheeky smile, as the blond pushed the door to the bedroom.
Akaza was unceremoniously tossed onto the bed. He bounced a few times before the mattress yielded and he sunk into the soft surface slightly. Douma took his sweet time, leaning down and sinking one knee into the sheets. Akaza wasn’t having any of it, hand reaching and roughly yanking down the blond by the tie.
He was being kissed again. His lips were being parted forcibly, and a tongue was invading his mouth. Akaza would moan wantonly into his mouth, and Douma would respond with a groan of his own, tightening the grip he had on the taper of Akaza’s waist. Heat stirred in his abdomen, and his cock hardened in the confines of his slacks.
They parted with a wet noise, and Akaza inhaled sharply when Douma moved downwards, kissing at the sensitive corner of his jaw before suckling at the skin, painting his throat in red hickeys like his own personal canvas.
His fingers trailed up, beginning to unbutton Akaza’s shirt from where he last left off. From top to bottom, Douma worked almost leisurely, but the slight shake of his hands revealed his true impatience.
The man always had to put on a show.
“You’re beautiful,” spoken like Douma was in awe, “With hair the color of cherry blossoms in the spring, and vibrant golden eyes. They practically glow, like the sun.” Between sentences, he would press a kiss to each and every new inch of skin revealed. It had Akaza shuddering, as his shirt was progressively peeled back more and more. “You act so tough, yet underneath all that, you’re a really caring guy, even if you’d never admit it.”
Akaza’s shirt, now fully undone, pooled down at his wrists. Douma helped him out of it, before it was tossed to some unknown corner of the room, quickly forgotten. “Cute, too. So very cute. Adorable how you so passionately deny it when I say as much, but flush so prettily when you hear it. A blush so distinctly red, I could mistake it as makeup.” Hands ran up his now bare upper half, groping at his defined chest, splaying over his toned muscles. A whimper slipped from his lips when nails raked over his nipples. “How you crave my touch unknowingly, leaning in closer with every small brush or embrace.”
Douma loomed over him now, with that annoyingly smug smirk, crowding further into Akaza’s space and kneeling between his spread legs.
“You-“ his voice cracked, “You talk too much.”
He hummed. “Mm, you like it though, don’t you? Besides, you asked for it.”
Akaza swallowed, and Douma watched the bob of his Adam’s apple. “I didn’t mean it literally, dumbass.”
“Oh? Then what did you mean then, hm?” Douma pressed a palm to his chest, gasping dramatically. “Oh my, Akaza-dono! So dirty minded.”
A scoff. “Yeah?” he challenged, teeth bared. “Then what about this, huh?” He drew back his foot, before pressing his heel against Douma’s hard on, straining against the fabric of his own slacks. The blond groaned, smile faltering. “What’s that all about, hm?” He traced the length of it with the ball of his foot. Douma shuddered, breathing in deeply through his nostrils.
From touch alone, Akaza knew that Douma was…. well endowed, to say the least.
His toes came down to add the slightest pressure, and suddenly Douma’s hand was wrapping around his ankle, clamping down hard and dragging him closer.
A tongue kissed teeth with a labored grin. “Getting confident now, hm? Such a brat. I should have expected as much.”
Then, Douma reached down, popping the button of Akaza’s slacks and dragging down his fly. Both Akaza’s pants and boxers were dragged down at once, leaving his pale legs exposed to the chill of the air. Instinctively, he brought his thighs together, angling them slightly to hide himself.
“Be good now,” he chastised lightly. Douma’s hands slid between his legs, prying them apart.
He usually wasn’t one to be shy about his body. The opposite. He took pride in it, and the training and effort it took to stay in as good of a shape he was. Yet… under Douma’s hungry gaze, it made him want to squirm and shy away. There was that gleam in the other man’s eyes as they slowly roved over his athletic figure. That borderline animalistic one that he’d only gotten mere hints of in the past.
Akaza was completely naked now. It really wasn’t fair how Douma still remained completely clothed above. He was about to say as much, until a tip of a finger traced up the underside of his cock, making his lashes flutter and his lips part. It was curled miserably against his stomach, the head an angry red, leaking pearly white pre come.
“How cute,” he cooed.
Akaza was again ready to choke out a retort of don’t call it that before Douma was thumbing roughly at the slit, spreading slick messily over the tip of his aching cock. He whined, hips bucking upwards naturally, wordlessly begging for more attention.
A breathy chuckle sounded from Douma’s lips. He continued to tease, abandoning Akaza’s dick in favor of having his fingers splaying over Akaza’s stomach, striking fire in his abdomen; stroking the sensitive skin of his inner thigh, causing Akaza to shiver.
Douma ducked forward. “From the moment I laid eyes on you, I knew I wanted you. You were so different, so feisty. I wanted to take you apart, to watch how quickly your tough little act would crumble as I took you roughly.” How could he say these things so shamelessly? Then finally, finally those large fingers were wrapping around his cock. Douma pumped once, twice, and Akaza moaned loudly, his arms nearly giving out beneath him. The blond continued speaking while he writhed, eyes intently watching every minute change in Akaza’s debauched expression. “But, I got what I wanted even without bedding you. Over time, you opened up to me, like a lotus flower blooming in the spring. It was fascinating, thrilling. I’ve never felt this deeply for anyone before.”
Then, as quickly as it came, his hand was gone and Akaza growled in irritation. He was this close to taking care of it himself.
“Patience now, Akaza-dono.”
Without breaking eye contact, Douma pulled open the drawer of the adjacent nightstand, rummaging through until he chirped a little, ‘aha!’ and produced a small, unopened tube.
Between a thumb and forefinger, he shook it enticingly. “Be a good boy and roll over, hm?”
A part of Akaza wanted to disobey, to see how much truth there was to Douma’s claim of wanting to take him apart and make him beg. Yet… he was painfully hard and completely desperate for some form of relief.
Akaza turned over, and before he knew it he was being pulled up by the knees, bracing on his forearms and his ass in the air. It was a vulnerable, embarrassing position, and he would have been absolutely mortified if he weren’t so painfully hard and horny.
His ears picked up the sharp sound of the tube being uncapped, before cold lube was being generously dribbled down the crack of his ass, causing him to flinch and shiver. Then, a wet finger prodded at his entrance, tracing the rim feather light.
“Get on with it already,” Akaza hissed, thin on patience.
“So impatient~”
Akaza inhaled sharply as the single digit was slowly pushed in, the slide aided by lubricant. It prodded at his walls, patiently searching. Douma hummed, high in question.
“Hm? You’re already a little loose.” A kiss was pressed to the nape of his neck, making him shiver. Douma’s voice dropped to a sultry tone. “Tell me, Akaza-dono, how often was I in your thoughts?”
Often. So very often, his mind supplied, though he’d never admit it. Many of his lonely nights were spent accompanied by a bottle of lotion and a box of tissues. Albeit, he’d never gone beyond two digits.
An insult was on the tip of Akaza’s tongue, it truly was, until Douma curled his finger just right and Akaza’s fist slammed into the mattress. He bit his wrist to silence a loud moan, and the pad of Douma’s finger circled his sweet spot, gradually increasing the pressure.
“There?” He had the audacity to ask.
Akaza bit his lip, as a second finger slid in beside the first, easily sliding down to the knuckle. The slight tang of blood was on his tongue as he tried his damndest to suppress his sounds.
“I, for one, couldn’t stop thinking about you.” Douma was mouthing at his shoulder, speaking against his skin; nipping at his lobe before his lips were traveling down to suckle at his shoulder, bringing blood to the surface. He bit down at the crook of his neck, reveling in Akaza’s whimper with a low chuckle. “You were always on my mind. I wanted to see you cry , count how many tears you would shed as you came on my cock time and time again.” His free hand slid forward, large fingers cupping around Akaza’s throat but not quite pressing down. “How sweetly you would beg . Beg for me to take you harder, faster, tossing away your pride in favor of pleasure.”
Akaza clenched around Douma’s fingers, and simultaneously, his weeping cock gave a little twitch.
“Hm? Do you like the sound of that, Akaza-dono?” Douma’s hand gave his throat a little squeeze.
It had Akaza whining, embarrassingly long and high, thighs trembling as two dexterous fingers massaged simultaneously into his prostate.
“That good?” Douma asked. Akaza practically felt the blond’s smirk against his skin.
Akaza strung together a faint sentence of gibberish, very much with the intention to insult the other man but ultimately coming up short. Douma increased the pressure, and his knees nearly buckled and fell.
Shaky hands blindly searched the space in front of them, until they sought purchase on a nearby pillow. Akaza shoved his face into it, muffling his sounds into the soft material. Behind him, he heard Douma tsk playfully. Then, the pillow was being pulled away from him. Or, attempted to be pulled away from him. Akaza held onto it for dear life, putting as much of his weight on it as he possibly could in his current position.
“Akaza, come on now,” Douma complained, but from the tone of his voice he was far from annoyed, “I want to hear you.”
Stubbornly, he clung to it. Inch by inch, the pillow was slipping out of his grip as the blond tugged at it. All the while, those fingers continued their slow piston in and out of his hole, massaging at his sweet spot. Akaza moaned into the pillow, ruefully recognizing that he wouldn’t have it much longer.
Damn the man’s great dexterity.
Finally, the pillow was pulled free from his grasp, and before Akaza could react, it was tossed across the room. It hit the wall with a loud thump , meaning the blond must have put a fair amount of force into it. Akaza attempted to reach for the other one, but it too was thrown into some unknown corner of the room.
Fingers mercilessly pressed at his prostate in retribution, and Akaza keened into the open air. His grip on the bed sheets tightened, the material the only thing left to ground him. Douma seemed to find glee in his unraveling mind, only chuckling when he became progressively louder.
“ Hmnn-! Fuck….ah- ”
Akaza had half the mind to check the walls, wondering if they were thin enough for the neighbors to hear him.
“Look at you. So loud, it’s cute,” he leaned back down, hot breath fanning against the shell of his ear, “Don’t worry about them, focus on me .”
Akaza was a mess of feelings. His skin was clammy, his stomach rolled with the hot, molten build of pleasure, and his mind was cloudy. Douma’s quick paced switches in demeanor had him reeling, how the man could be teasing and borderline cruel at one moment, yet speak so softly and sweetly to him the next.
It was riveting.
Soon, Akaza was rolling his hips back impatiently, meeting each thrust of Douma’s two fingers.
“Oh? You want more?” His fingers slowed, lazily scissoring his hole. Akaza whined, the warmth building in his gut being delayed once more. “Is two not enough for you?”
“ More, ” he demanded, though it came out more as a plea than with the bite he was intending. “Not- haahh - enough!”
He was drooling as he craned his head back to the other man. Desperately, he watched a thumb and forefinger leisurely rise to Douma’s chin. The blond hummed, feigning a pensive expression. His lip quirked up at the sight of Akaza’s glare.
“Well, I’m feeling nice, so I’ll give you what you want.”
After this, Akaza was going to seriously kill the other man.
Then, those two digits were yanked out with a wet noise, and before Akaza could complain he was being flipped back over to the sight of lidded eyes and a sharp grin. Douma’s tongue slowly slid over his top teeth, lingering at the jut of his canines.
“I want to see this,” was all he said before three fingers tested at his rim, pushing in agonizingly slow.
This time, the stretch burned, and his mouth dropped open in a pained groan. Immediately, Akaza reached up to claw at the fabric of Douma’s shirt, eyes tearing up. Those digits were spread outwards and he panted harshly, flushed face contorting with pain and pleasure as he was forcibly stretched.
“Too big!” He cried, kicking at Douma’s thigh.
“Aw, but if only my fingers are too big, how are you going to take the rest of me later?” Kisses were peppered to the collumb of his neck, encouraging him. “It’ll get better, I promise,” he cooed.
They were pressing into his prostate again, and Akaza saw stars, successfully distracting him as he was stretched. Douma was right in the end. Soon enough, it no longer hurt, and the feeling of three was infinitely better than the two or one. Better than Akaza’s own no doubt, when he’d tease himself late into the evening with the other man’s name on his tongue.
The blond was speeding up his thrusts once more, practically ramming into his sweet spot. Douma’s eyes stayed glued to his face, watching every whimper and mewl slip from Akaza’s face as he was fucked by his fingers.
“Are you close?”
Akaza could only moan loudly in response, thighs quaking as he approached his peak.
That chuckle again, low and sensual, and Akaza’s back arched off the bed as he came with a high moan, his cock painting his abs in hot white.
His chest heaved as he slumped back against the mattress, legs slowly sliding down from their propped up position. Douma slicked back the sweat soaked hair that stuck to Akaza’s forehead, before pressing a kiss to his flushed skin.
“How was that?” He waggled his brows. “Feel good?”
It really wasn’t fair that Douma got to stay clothed for the entirety of his first orgasm.
He didn’t respond to Douma’s questions, instead quickly sitting up. “Take it off,” he demanded, yanking at that stupid tie of his.
“Oh ho- already ready for more?” Douma leaned back. He slid off the bed, standing and straightening to his full height. He loomed over Akaza, and from where he stood Douma looked so much bigger than him. “You have great stamina, Akaza,” he praised, before getting to work.
The man gave him an entire strip show, unfastening his collar and loosening his tie in an erotic manner you’d expect from a porno. He tossed the articles of clothing aside carelessly with a grin and a wink, and Akaza would have rolled his eyes if Douma weren’t so hot. His hands trailed down his muscular chest, past his sculpted abs, before halting at the buckle of his belt. It was undone in one quick, practiced motion.
The leather was slid out from their loops, and with wide eyes Akaza excitedly wondered if the other man would hit him with it-
Geez, way too kinky for your first time, Akaza.
“There’s always next time, Akaza,” the other man teased, as if he read Akaza’s mind.
Akaza’s mouth ran dry when Douma lowered his pants and boxers and his cock sprang out. Long and thick, with a prominent vein. The head was an angry red, glistening with precum, dripping down the length of his shaft. He licked his lips, and the action was not missed by the other man.
“Ahh, I was really looking forward to having that pretty little mouth of yours on me tonight, but alas even my patience runs thin at times.”
Douma kneeled back into the mattress, and Akaza watched the bob of his cock as he inched closer. Akaza yelped when he was dragged forward by his calves. The man slotted himself between his legs, guiding them to wrap around his waist. Akaza was already hard again, cock curled back against his stomach, brushing the white residue left from his last release.
A swollen head kissed the rim of his fluttering entrance. Douma had a hand on the base of his cock, licking his lips as he slowly circled the crown.
The man was always such a damn tease.
“Just do it already.” He glared weakly up at Douma.
“Mm, you should really learn to ask more nicely for things, Akaza.”
Despite that, he complied, and began pushing in. The crown popped past his rim with not much resistance, but the agonizing slide of the rest of Douma’s length had Akaza’s jaw dropping open in a silent o. He already felt so full, and one quick glance down told Akaza that he was only about half way there.
“ Ah- you’re still so tight,” Douma winced.
Eventually, Douma was fully seated with thighs flush to Akaza’s ass. The blond looked down at him with a strained smile.
“You ready?”
“Just- go!” he whined, fingers digging into the taller man’s shoulders.
Douma fucked into him with an unhurried pace at first, slowly pistoning his cock in and out, but through the blur of pleasure Akaza could see the twitch and tug at the corner of his lip; another hint of impatience. The blond had his brow furrowed, as he steadily increased the pace of his movements. Akaza kicked up, strong legs locking behind Douma’s back, ankles intertwining securely. Then, the head of his cock was jabbing into his prostate, feeling infinitely better than the press of those fingers.
“Please- ah fuck, Douma- harder!
That seemed to have done something for the other man, because Douma’s smile immediately fell and he growled. His bruising drip shifted from Akaza’s thighs down to his hips, thumbs digging harshly into the sensitive flesh there. Leaning down, he hiked Akaza deeper onto his cock before crashing their lips together in a bruising kiss. His lips trailed down, marking up the skin of his throat, teeth closing over his sensitive collar bone, kissing the underside of his chin- anywhere they could reach.
“ Hmn- Akaza, you feel so good around me,” he groaned.
Akaza hadn’t even noticed until then that Douma had dropped the honorific completely
His fingers tangled in long, braided hair, dragging down sharply. Down, through neat, golden weaves until the rubberband that held them together was snapping, allowing those honied waves to spill free. Down and down, his nails dug and clawed down the plane of his back and between his shoulder blades, desperately clinging higher every time they slid down too far.
When Douma leaned down to lock their lips, Akaza could taste that lingering tobacco from the cigarette he smoked earlier that day. The man kissed rough, mercilessly testing Akaza’s endurance for oxygen each time their mouths connected. His forearms were planted on each side of Akaza’s head now, looming in further so he could fuck into him deeper.
Loud, hiccuping moans resonated in the bedroom, louder than when it had just been Douma’s fingers, coupled with the slap and squelch of each of the blond’s thrusts. The backboard slammed against the white wall as they moved, leaving no room for interpretation to their neighbors to what was occurring.
Then, Douma shifted, angling the head of his cock just right for it to slide past his sweet spot with each piston of his hips. Akaza's head lolled back, and so did his eyes, hazed vision unfocused in the general direction of the far wall. His legs trembled, toes curling as he neared his second peak that night. Heat coiled high in his stomach, and Akaza rambled incomprehensible pleas for the promise of release.
That cock slammed into his prostate again, sending him tumbling over the edge of euphoria. Akaza’s eyes flew open and he was coming with a scream. Again, his cock shot ribbons of white, reaching far enough to even splatter on his cheek. Douma fucked him through his orgasm, chasing his own at a punishing pace, not letting up even as Akaza’s own orgasmic haze began to taper. He sobbed out feeble whimpers and mewls as he began to tremble with overstimulation.
Douma leaned down, sinking his teeth into the meat of Akaza’s shoulder. Akaza shrieked, whimpering soon after when a tongue went to sooth at the bite, lapping up the blood that pooled in its indentations. He was close, Akaza could tell, as his thrusts became more urgent, desperate, and he was moaning lowly into his ear.
Finally, a rush of warmth, filling his abdomen as Douma buried himself to the hilf and spilt in deep with a guttural groan. He rode out his orgasm with a few more lazier pistons of his length, before he gradually slowed to a stop. His cock sat snug in Akaza’s hole, hot and throbbing from its recent release.
Akaza’s pulse raced, and his lips were parted in a quick, deep pant, while the trembles died down. His arms slid off of Douma’s back, falling limply at his sides.
The movements after felt slow, sappy, like wading through golden molasses as Douma leaned down and captured his lips in a final, languid kiss, sweetly licking into his pliant mouth. After their lips broke apart, Douma pressed his forehead to Akaza’s.
They were both still and silent save for their breathing. No witty comment from the other man, nor complaint from Akaza. The two of them simply laid there, catching their breaths.
Then, Douma sighed. He began to pull out, but Akaza clung to his shoulders, digging in his nails.
“Stay,” he murmured.
Douma smiled. Lifting the small man’s legs and gently pressing his thighs to chest, the blond carefully turned him on his side without pulling out. Akaza whimpered with the movement, still sensitive from their recent activities.
Soon, Douma slowly lowered himself to lay down beside Akaza, wrapping an arm around his waist and holding him close. A warm blanket was pulled up over the both of them. Lips pressed to the nape of his neck.
“I love you,” Douma muttered, and his heart melted.
“I love… you too.” He slurred.
Akaza was sure he felt Douma smile against his neck, before his eyes fluttered shut.
.
..
…
Long lashes blinked open slowly. The golden morning light peeked through the gap in the curtains, warming his face. Groggy yellow eyes squinted at the unfamiliar bedroom, and he shifted slightly, groaning at the soreness of his lower body.
“ Hnnngg, what the fuck…”
Akaza was surprised with how hoarse his voice was.
Behind him, his partner stirred awake with a sigh, pulling Akaza’s bare back flush to a warm chest. A nose nuzzled into the crook of his neck.
“Good morning to you too,” Douma greeted him, voice lower and raspier from recent sleep.
Oh, right. Last night.
Then, Douma shifted, slowly pulling out his limp cock from Akaza’s ass. The squelching sound as he moved was awful, and the wet feeling was even worse. Plus, only then did Akaza become aware of the flaking of dried come on his stomach and abs, on the back of his legs, and somehow on his face. The idea of being Douma’s cockwarmer for hours on end was no longer as appealing. They really should have cleaned up last night.
Douma, with a gentle hand, helped to gradually turn the smaller man over to face him. Immediately, Akaza buried his face into his muscled chest and pulled the blankets up higher to shield himself from the sunlight.
Fingers came up to comb through his knotted, pink hair. “How are you feeling?” he asked, and Akaza could feel the words rumble through his chest as he spoke.
“Sore.”
“Oh? I wonder why,” Douma drawled innocently.
“It’s all your fault, dumass,” he murmured, muffled.
A laugh, “Well, how was it though, hm? Our lovemaking?”
Lovemaking? Tch. How romantic.
“Mm, it wasn’t bad,” Akaza said, knowing full well it was the best sex he’s had in his life.
“Wasn’t bad?” Douma repeated in mock offense.
“Mhm, your technique could use some work,” he teased.
Douma snorted, then changed topics, “We need a bath.”
With a low whine, Akaza pulled the blanket up over his head. The bed and blankets were warm, and the world was a cold, cold place.
“Don’t be like that. We can cuddle afterwards.” Akaza complained as Douma peeled away the blankets, drawing the fabric down to their waists. The blond shimmied on the mattress, swinging his legs off and rising to his feet with a little pep in his step. He raised his arms above his head, bones popping and muscles flexing. Golden hair cascaded down his shoulders, catching the sunlight, almost appearing to glow.
As he stretched, Akaza’s eyes trailed the countless scratches and crescent nail marks littering Douma’s back.
Akaza sat up, rubbing his face. Then, Douma turned towards him, and Akaza instinctively looked away, face pinkening. The blond was… completely naked, as should be expected.
A chuckle, “No need to be shy! You’ve seen it all already,” Douma teased, before grabbing at the edge of the blanket and yanking it off Akaza. The cold air instantly hit, and Akaza hastily drew his legs together, pulling them up to his chest. Unfortunately, the position only made it easier for the other man to scoop him up in a bridal carry. Akaza yelped as he was suddenly hoisted up, and the other man pressed a chaste kiss to his forehead, adding, “And I’ve seen all of you too.”
He was carried out the bedroom door, down the hall, and into a bathroom to the right. Douma set him down, hands immediately moving to support Akaza under his arms when the shorter’s legs nearly gave out. The blond lowered him down onto the toilet seat, and Akaza winced sharply when it stung. Then, he shivered, body bare to the apartment’s chill.
Douma offered an encouraging smile, before turning away to run the tub’s faucet. Steam filled the room as the heated water ran, and Akaza craned his head (careful not to shift his bottom half too much) to examine his own image. His neck and shoulders were littered with reds and purples, hickeys and bites, a testament to his survival of the previous night. He could only pray that his marked skin cleared by Monday, because there was absolutely no way his collar would cover all of it. Not even close. Maybe he should ask Douma to be more mindful when using him as his personal chew toy. Though, as his fingers traced a particular bitemark, Akaza could somewhat admit that he quite liked the imprints Douma left on his body. A few wouldn’t hurt, right?
Then again, he would become the butt of every joke by the Shabana twins for weeks to come.
“Hey,” a ruffle to his hair, “I’ll help you into the bath.”
To his right was a now filled, steaming bath. Then, Akaza eyed the emptied bottle on the rim of the tub.
“Sake,” Douma said, as if he read his mind, “It’s great for the skin.”
Douma was attentive, slowly supporting Akaza as he stepped inside the tub. The blond followed suit shortly after, and soon Akaza was being wrapped in an embrace by his lover behind him. Sighing, he relaxed as the heated water soothed his sore muscles.
Behind him, he heard Douma roll his neck, his spine cracking satisfyingly.
“Ah, my neck hurts,” Douma complained.
“Maybe It’s because you threw away the pillows,” Akaza remarked, sliding further down into the water.
“Well, I wouldn’t have had to if you didn’t muffle your cute little noises while I-”
“Haha! That’s enough. Be quiet,” Akaza said quickly, flinging water back at the other man. “Relaxation time.”
Douma chuckled, propping his chin on the top of Akaza’s head. After a few moments, Akaza’s eyes fluttered shut as they laid there peacefully. Listening to the rhythmic hum of his lover’s heartbeat, he zoned out. He wasn’t too sure how long had passed, but Akaza was certain he was mere moments away from falling asleep until Douma shifted behind him and the sharp sound of something being uncapped echoed in the room.
Akaza leaned forward, dunking his head in the water briefly, before sitting back up.
“Thank you,” Douma chirped.
Akaza hummed, feeling Douma’s hands lather up his now wet hair. The soapy suds crackled softly as the blond worked in the shampoo, the air now filled with the familiar and comforting floral scent Douma usually wore, filling his lungs. Fingers massaged firmly into his scalp, feeling heavenly , and Akaza couldn’t help the moan that escaped through his parted lips.
“Careful now,” Douma warned playfully.
“Quiet you. ”
“ You?” he questioned playfully. “Softening on me already, Akaza?”
“In your dreams, dipshit,” Akaza shot back.
Douma chuckled. Without warning, he scooped up water with his hands and dumped it onto Akaza’s head. Akaza sputtered, and he spit out any soap that had gotten into his mouth.
“Before you,” he began, fingers returning to Akaza’s hair to wash out the shampoo, “I found life so… boring.” Nails ran through matted pink hair, combing through the wet knots. “Everything came so easily to me, whether it be money, school, or work- you name it. But you… you were such a challenge.”
“Thanks,” Akaza muttered dryly, hands coming up to rub away at the soapy water that ran over his eyes.
“It’s not a bad thing, I promise. The complete opposite. For a long time, you turned me away, so stubborn against my advances.” Soaked pink hair stuck to Akaza’s forehead, and Douma slicked it back. “The happiness I felt when our relationship took a step forward- the frustration I felt when we took a step back… It was all so… exciting, I could hardly wait to see you everyday.” He confessed, nosing at the nape of Akaza’s neck, breathing against the short hairs there. “When you avoided me, for a month I felt so… empty. I hadn’t met someone quite like you before. Meeting you, being with you, it's as if I were seeing colors for the first time.”
“You’re so… dramatic,” was all Akaza could say.
Douma laughed at his reaction. “You like it,” he quipped, once more.
Akaza clicked his tongue, before resigning. “Yeah, I do.” He paused. “Now turn around, let me do yours.”
The water swayed high near the edge of the tub as Douma shifted, back facing Akaza. His long hair moved with him, skimming across the water like golden agea on the surface of a pond. It made Akaza itch slightly, as his fingers attempted to comb through a soaking mass of hair. “Geez, why do you have so much hair,” he grumbled.
“It grew out over the past few years.” The man rolled his shoulders idly, before sharing, “Believe it or not, but I used to wear it short.”
“Seriously?” Briefly, Douma with a cut similar to Akaza’s own crossed his mind, and he cringed. “No way.”
“Not too short. About shoulder length. Same style for the most part.” He perked up slightly with an idea. “Hey! I think you would look good with long hair-“
“Absolutely not.”
Douma snickered, and turned with the intent to dunk his head in the water-
and slipped.
They were both sent tumbling under the water.
Water had slipped over the rim. Lots of it, enough to practically flood the room’s white tile. Douma had to lay out every towel he had stashed away in his cupboards (there were… quite a few) to soak up the mess.
After exiting the tub and draining it, they dried off their hair (Akaza had to sit there perched on the tub while Douma fired up the dryer for his own large mop of hair). Eventually, Akaza was fitted in a pair of Douma’s sweats and one of his sweaters. He had to roll up the pants a bit, and the shirt's hem hung low.
“I like you in my clothes,” he had said, locking eyes with Akaza in the mirror as he brushed through his hair. Douma still hadn’t gotten dressed, standing before the sink with a towel hung low on his waist.
Akaza rolled his eyes once more, the tips of his ears pinkening, “God- you are so embarrassing.” The in a good way was left unsaid. He leaned heavily against the doorway, still not having recovered enough to stand straight without help. “You’re probably going to be super heavy on the PDA, aren’t you?”
Douma only sent him a genial smile, and Akaza took that as enough of an answer.
“Yep. Thought so.” He dragged a hand down his face. “Why did I even ask?”
Soon enough, they were back in the bedroom, swaddled in blankets and cushions (Douma had gone and finally retrieved those pillows from the floor with a sheepish grin). Douma sat behind him, head hooked over his shoulder and arms wrapped around his middle, content with watching Akaza tap away at his screen at some mobile game.
He hissed through his teeth when he missed a jump, the little character he was controlling plugging to their doom into the fiery pits below. A silly little death chime played, and he was faced with the somber font and imagery of the game over screen. Akaza sighed, gently tossing his phone to the other side of the bed.
“I’m bored,” he complained, head lolling back against Douma’s chest.
“Bored?” Douma gasped dramatically. “That won’t do.” His eyes found the roof, as he pretended to think. “Hmmm, I have an idea,” he drawled. “Why don’t you give me another chance? Maybe I can improve on last night.”
“Douma, we just took a bath,” Akaza said flatly. Despite that, pivoted, wrapping his arms around broad shoulders as he settled into the other man’s lap.
“I’ll clean you up after,” he leaned in, lips brushing Akaza’s. Voice dropping an octave, he whispered, “but just know, I won’t be as lenient with you this time around-”
BZZT BZZT
A cheery little ringtone played from Douma’s phone on the nightstand. The song sounded familiar.
“Haha sorry,” Douma shot him an apologetic smile. He picked up his phone, eyes scanning the caller, before accepting the call with a swipe of the thumb and setting it to the speaker.
“Hey hey hey! What can I do for you Shin-”
“You and your boyfriend have some nerve! Some people would like to get some sleep around here, you shit head! Especially on Christmas-”
Another voice, “Shinobu please-”
“Not now, Kanae! Listen, Douma, I swear if you don’t quiet down I will come over and rip your ba-”
Douma hung up the call with a chuckle, setting his phone back down on the nightstand. “That girl is no fun,” Douma said lightly, snickering. He turned back to Akaza with a grin, which immediately fell when he noticed the serious look on Akaza’s face.
“What’s wrong?”
“Is that what we are?” he asked, nervously.
“What?”
“Y’know…boyfriends,” he muttered, cringing right after.
God, it sounded so cheesy when he said it.
“Of course!” He reached forward, playfully pinching Akaza’s cheek, “Why wouldn’t we be?”
Akaza smiled, tucking his head beneath Douma’s chin.
“No reason. Merry Christmas, Douma.”
“Merry Christmas, Akaza.”