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“Here! For you.” Mitsuya shoves the pristine white box into Takemichi’s hands. It’s tied off with a bright red ribbon.
Takemichi stares at it before slowly looking up at Mitsuya.
“It’s Mikey’s birthday. Not mine.”
Mitsuya gives him a flat look with a quirked eyebrow. One that chides without him even having to open his mouth.
“It’s Mikey’s gift.”
“You’ll be seeing him at dinner…” Takemichi trails off, face scrunching. Unless Mitsuya was bailing on dinner.
Mitsuya claps his hands on Takemichi’s shoulders, leaning in to his height.
“Open it.”
Takemichi frowns at him before looking back down at the box. He one-handedly plucks at the ribbon until it unravels. Mitsuya steps back as he pulls the top of the box open.
It’s expected to be clothing. The box is flat and wide, clearly for fabric. And Mitsuya is…Mitsuya. Takemichi has noticed his go-to gifts are personally designed clothing.
What lies in the box is not what Takemichi would consider clothing .
“There is no way Mikey would wear–“
“Takemichi, I love you dearly,” Mitsuya cuts him off. “But it’s not for Mikey to wear. It is my gift to him for you to wear.”
Takemichi’s mouth hangs open on a silent ‘oh’. His eyes dart back down to the contents of the box, cheeks bursting with warmth.
“It has a, uh-“ Takemichi gestures awkwardly to his own chest. Mitsuya gives him a patient, if not exasperated, nod. “But I don’t have…” he gestures again, face undoubtedly beet-red. Mitsuya blinks slowly at him before sighing.
“It’s lace, Takemichi, it’s not for support, it’s for framing.”
“Framing,” Takemichi repeats. He swallows heavily as he looks down at the very lacy and very small garments in the box. “Are you sure they’ll fit, because I don’t know-“ he begins to ramble, mouth firing off excuses. He feels like his brain got flipped onto a frying pan.
They’ve experimented a little with ropes and the sort—a blindfold on one memorable occasion Takemichi is still building up the courage to ask for a repeat of—but never lingerie. He hadn’t even thought to.
“I made it.” Mitsuya cuts him off with a hand back on his shoulder. “I’ve been gathering your measurements for months. I know your sizing. It will fit. I’ve known Mikey since middle school, it is to his tastes. He will like it.” Mitsuya pauses with a thoughtful look. “If you’re truly uncomfortable with it then that’s fine. I have another gift for him as well. I just thought this one would be fun for you too.”
There’s an unspoken ‘and also get him off my ass from accusing me of feeling you up whenever I do your mock-ups and styling.’
Takemichi’s stomach twists. It’s less discomfort, he thinks, and more a fear of humiliation. Of looking dumb. He trusts Mitsuya to not put him in something unflattering, and he trusts Mikey to be a good sport regardless. The true issue, he supposes, is that he doesn’t feel like there’s anything worth ‘framing’ about him. He winces as he stares down the fabric. It’s Mikey’s colors. Black and red lace. A tasteful amount of frills and embellishes alongside an intimidating amount of thin straps.
“I’ll leave you to it. You can decide when, and if you wear it.” Mitsuya gives him one last squeeze on his shoulder before he turns and leaves the penthouse. “See you at dinner!” He calls out as the elevator closes with a small wave.
Takemichi sits where he is, on the floor between the kitchen and living room.
“Oh god.” He will try. For Mikey .
<><><>
“This is a mistake.” Takemichi looks up in the full length bathroom mirror in horror.
It’s cute. It’s undoubtedly sexy. It feels out of place on him. The lace sits flat against his skin, very sheer, very see-through. The top is, indeed, much more of a frame than anything else, lined with rose lace on the underside, attached to the band around his ribs. His nipples are in plain view, fully visible underneath the thin straps arching up from the middle to meet the shoulder straps.
There’s more straps crossing down the sides of his ribs, leaving his stomach and back predictably bare.
The bottoms are in the same style, strappy, lacy and revealing. It was made with definite thought in room for his cock—he’s not going to think too hard on Mitsuya having to factor that in. There’s matching stockings as well and a lacy choker.
Takemichi doesn’t recognize himself in the mirror. He twists around for a view of the back. He can’t tell if his heart is thumping because he’s nervous or because he…kind of likes it. It accentuates features he’s never thought on—has never found particularly attractive.
He feels…desirable. A feeling he usually only gets when Mikey’s hands are on him.
He’s so enraptured with his own reflection he doesn’t hear the footsteps approaching the bathroom door. He startles with a jump as Mikey taps his knuckles against the closed door.
“Babe, whenever you’re done in there, I do need a shower,” he says. “I’d ask you to join but we shouldn’t be late.” There’s a smile in his voice. It’s infectious as Takemichi finds himself huffing out a small laugh.
“I’m almost done, I–“ he pauses, looking at his own reflection again. He doesn’t really want to take it off yet. “I’ll be out in one second.” Takemichi grabs for his clothing before he can think twice.
Black slacks and his dark green button up hide all the lace and straps perfectly. Not so much the choker. He unclips that and shoves it into his pants pocket. He shivers in excitement, surprising even himself over the idea of sitting through the entire dinner with this feeling, this strange self-directed warmth, sitting just under his clothing.
He adjusts the collar of his shirt in the mirror before he opens the bathroom door. Mikey stands in the doorway, arm raised and braced against the frame. His lips curl up into a pleased grin as he looks over Takemichi.
“I like when you get dressed up,” his voice drops to a whisper. He pulls himself up from the frame, reaching for the belt loops on either side of Takemichi’s slacks, and yanks him forward. Takemichi’s hands go to his shoulders on instinct, used to the manhandling by now.
Mikey definitely needs a shower before they go. He’s half drenched in sweat from the gym. Why he would want to dedicate the hours before his birthday dinner to kickboxing and karate, Takemichi will never know.
It technically won’t be his birthday until midnight, but it’s a unanimous agreement that Mikey gets to sleep in as long as he wants for his birthday. Which, according to Draken, can be all day depending on the year.
“I like it better when you’re naked, though.” Mikey gives Takemichi a teasing tug. Takemichi scoffs lightheartedly, a blush creeping up his cheeks.
“After dinner,” he says.
“My dessert?” Mikey asks, leaning in with a hungry glint in his eyes. Takemichi’s breath hitches—it always does when Mikey looks at him like that. Takemichi pokes a finger against Mikey’s forehead, pushing him back just a bit. Mikey pouts at him.
“Shower. We can’t be late.” He slowly shuffles to spin them around, gently nudging Mikey into the bathroom. He reluctantly steps out of Mikey’s hold. Mikey takes the prompt—but not without a childish groan.
“You deny the birthday boy,” he whines. He tips sideways to make sure his pout is visible throughout the process of Takemichi pulling the door shut. He rolls his eyes with a fond smile.
“It’s not your birthday yet, Manjirou.” He hears muffled grumbling in response through the door.
For once, they are on time for dinner.
<><><>
Barely a glass of wine in and dinner is chaotic. Takemichi suspects the only reason they haven’t all been thrown out is because Toman owns the restaurant. They had clearly known who Mikey was, bowing as he had entered, arm looped through Takemichi’s.
He can only imagine the night had started out with intentions of best behavior but nothing stays that way when Toman founders gather.
Takemichi very quickly discovered, in their relationship, that ‘dinner with Mikey’s family’ does not mean just Emma and Draken. It means every founding member of Toman alongside their own partners. It means a very long table at the very back of the restaurant, curtained off from the rest, and a very raucous occasion. Takemichi still feels slightly out of place—he’s so unused to it all. To fancy clothing, fine dinners, bottled wine instead of box, a dozen friends. A soulmate.
“We were trying to make those automatic slingshots,” Baji says, grinning widely. Chifuyu just barely manages to slide his glass of wine out of the way as Baji’s hand gestures through the air. Kazutora is doubled over laughing.
“I didn’t realize it was going to do that!” Mikey is making a valiant attempt at saving his dignity.
“He strung it up backwards, and shot the rock at his own damn face.” Baji wheezes at the memory. Mikey sits back in his chair with an embarrassed frown, red coloring his cheeks.
“You had a black eye for two weeks,” Emma pitches in. She gives Mikey an innocent smile from across the table.
“I didn’t come here for you all to harass me in front of Mitchy.” He’s met with doubtful looks.
Pah-chin leans over, eyes sparkling with humor as he addresses Takemichi.
“He’s already made an ass of himself fifty times over, hasn’t he?”
Takemichi snorts in laughter, covering his face with his hand. Mikey whips around to glare at Pah-chin. His friend is completely unintimidated, simply raising an eyebrow at Takemichi.
“He hasn’t made an ass of himself,” Takemichi says, struggling to speak around his laughter. Mikey makes a wordless cry of triumph, pointing a finger at Pah-chin who sits back with a suspicious look.
“That’s just a matter of time.” Draken sips at his wine, avoiding Mikey’s eyes. “Promise me I’ll be the first to know when he does do something massively stupid,” Draken says with a wink in Takemichi’s direction.
“I’ll be sure to keep you on speed dial.” Takemichi nods, a conspiratory smile shared between them. Pah-chin bursts into loud, booming laughter alongside Baji.
“I thought you loved me,” Mikey whines. He leans over from his chair, forehead falling against Takemichi’s shoulder. Takemichi rolls his eyes at the display, all too aware of the eyes on them as he turns and presses a quick kiss to the crown of Mikey’s head.
“I do, but you’re a menace.”
Mikey lifts his head with a breathtakingly soft smile. The people around them move onto a new topic as Takemichi returns the smile. Mikey takes his hand, sitting back in his own chair. He threads their fingers together, pressing a gentle kiss to the back of Takemichi’s knuckles.
Over the course of the night the conversation flows, looping back to embarrassing memories of Mikey into talk of the present. It seems the only topic off-limits is work. They speak of the Toman glory days, something Takemichi only knew from afar, but never of Toman’s present. Takemichi thinks it’s probably a pleasant break for Mikey. The kind of break he attempts to provide within their own penthouse.
At one point he catches Mitsuya’s eye. Mitsuya lifts a brow in a silent question. Takemichi’s responding blush and turning his head away only serves as a loud and clear answer.
Mikey’s hand rests comfortably on Takemichi’s thigh, Takemichi’s own over it.
“So, now that you’re not single, do you two have any day plans for tomorrow?” Emma asks. Her eyes twinkle the way they always do when she spotlights that Mikey has a partner now—has Takemichi.
“I don’t think you want to hear them,” Mikey replies with a smug smile. The expression only grows as collective groans are heard around the table.
“I don’t know what else was expected.” Mitsuya shrugs, staring down at the near-empty wine glass in hand.
“Something cute like brunch or maybe a weekend escape.” Emma throws her hands up in annoyed defeat. “Leave it to Mikey to make it weird.”
Takemichi wrenches his hand away from Mikey’s with a click of his tongue, smacking him gently in the chest.
“I’m going to make him breakfast while he sleeps and then we’ll watch a movie and order in.” He turns to Emma, answering the question with a prayer that they all believe him and the blush on his face will go down.
“Aw, babe, you’re making me breakfast?” Mikey asks. He lifts his hand from Takemichi’s thigh, moving it to his back. He rubs affectionate circles against his spine through his shirt.
Takemichi is about to reply when Mikey’s hand freezes. His fingers inch across Takemichi’s back, right along the seam of the lace and clasp. Mikey’s breath audibly hitches, loud and clear to Takemichi but drowned out with conversation to the rest of them. Takemichi pointedly keeps his eyes averted, even if he can feel Mikey’s on him.
Mikey’s eyes stay on him for the rest of dinner.
<><><>
Emma pulls him into a crushing hug as they all part ways outside the restaurant.
“Call us if he’s too much tomorrow, he can be a bit of a brat when he feels it’s owed to him.”
Takemichi laughs softly, glancing to Mikey, who still watches him throughout his entire conversation with Draken and Baji.
“I think it should be fine, but I’ll keep that in mind.”
He jumps as a hand claps against his back. Mitsuya appears beside them both, a smug, toothy grin on his face. Hakkai stands behind him, quiet and honestly looking like he’s about to fall asleep on his feet.
“Oh, it’ll definitely be fine,” he says with a pointed wink that makes Takemichi go red all over again.
Everyone is quick for their final goodbyes and wishing Mikey a happy birthday. They leave him with an armful of gift bags, opened around the table at the insistence—more of raucous chanting than anything civil—of Baji, Pah-Chin, and Kazutora. In reality they had just really wanted Mikey to open the set of pink fuzzy dice they had gotten for Babu. Mikey closes them in the compartment behind Babu’s seat, looking mildly overwhelmed and a little exhausted. But his eyes are bright when he turns to hand Takemichi his helmet.
“I was going to request a joyride along the riverside until it hit midnight but,” his eyes move down Takemichi’s form. The hunger in them only grows as Takemichi squirms under his stare. “I think you have something waiting for me at home.”
Takemichi tugs his helmet on with a frown.
“I’d love to take a ride by the river,” he says. He refuses to derail Mikey’s original plans, especially when it sounds so nice. “You can wait a few more hours.” Mikey meets his eyes with a look of disbelief.
“But–”
“No.” Takemichi smiles sweetly. He plucks Mikey’s own helmet out of his hands—the helmets being purchased at his own insistence—and places it on Mikey’s head. He clips it closed before leaning in to press a chaste peck against Mikey’s lips. “You only get that present after midnight, might as well go to the river.”
Mikey gapes at him, face twitching, like he can’t decide which emotion to display first.
“You, Takemitchy, are a terrible tease,” he settles on a mischievous smile. He crowds Takemichi against the bike, dark eyes glittering. Takemichi is prepared for the arm snaking around his waist and the rough way Mikey pulls him closer. “What if I want my present now?” he asks, voice low and teasing. Takemichi pats a gentle hand against his chest.
“Then you wouldn’t be a good boy for waiting,” he replies. He gives Mikey his brightest smile, cocking his head. Mikey’s hand clenches on the fabric of Takemichi’s shirt, eyes going darker.
“Exactly at midnight.”
He lets go of a triumphant Takemichi in favor of swinging his leg over Babu’s seat. He waits until Takemichi settles in behind him—arms around his waist and cheek resting against his back—before he starts the engine.
The riverside drive is gorgeous during the day, but there’s something about it that seems otherworldly and magical in the dark of the night. Even with the scarce few stars to be seen against the lights of Tokyo. Takemichi can almost believe they’re no longer in the city.
The road is silent apart from Babu, stretching down as far as Takemichi can see.
He remembers when Mikey first took him to the river. A shy request from a man who seemed more like a bashful schoolboy at that moment. Takemichi had been all too happy to accept.
This time there was no lunch picnic, no sun bearing down on them.
Mikey is quick to park, uncaring about being parallel parked across two slots. The lot is empty regardless. He hops off of the bike before extending Takemichi a hand. Takemichi takes it, expecting some gentlemanly help off the bike. What he receives is Mikey yanking him off the bike and against Mikey’s chest. He clicks their helmets off, leaving them balanced on the motorcycle seats.
Mikey pulls them along, down the small dirt path and towards the riverbank. Takemichi stumbles to catch up, finding himself laughing.
It feels like something out of a movie. Everything with Mikey does.
When Mikey reaches the bottom of the grass he spins around, tugging Takemichi to fall into his chest. Their laughter is contagious amongst themselves. Takemichi puts his hands on Mikey’s shoulders to steady himself, head ducked against Mikey’s throat. They stay like that as they catch their breaths, the gentle sound of the running river drowning out the dying city noise in the distance.
Mikey pulls at Takemichi’s hands, threading their fingers together in one and pulling the other properly over his shoulder. He drops one hand down to Takemichi’s waist, letting them sway slowly in a musicless dance.
Takemichi smiles contentedly, nuzzling into Mikey’s neck. He feels, more than hears it, when Mikey begins to hum. It’s off-beat and hesitant. Soft and unsure. Takemichi closes his eyes, letting it wrap around him.
They come to a stop, Mikey dropping his hand in favor of wrapping his arms around Takemichi’s waist.
“Thank you,” he whispers.
“For what?”
“Existing.”
Takemichi pulls back just enough to blink at Mikey. There are stars in Mikey’s eyes. Like every star blocked out from the lights of the city was plucked from the heavens and set into the black night of Mikey’s eyes. Yet he stares at Takemichi as though the other hung the moon above them. Takemichi is speechless.
Without the words, he elects to lean forward, pressing his lips to Mikey’s own. It’s soft and sweet. All slow movements and Takemichi cradling Mikey’s jaw.
“I love you,” he breathes the words against Mikey’s lips. “I love you so much.”
He doesn’t know how to voice everything in his chest. That Mikey is the best thing that has ever happened to him. That even if they hadn’t been pulled together by soul marks on their wrists Takemichi feels like he would have run to Mikey whenever given the chance. That Mikey has become his home, has nestled himself into Takemichi’s chest so deeply he thinks if he were ever removed his very heart would stop beating.
He pours it all into the kiss—into the slow slide of their lips. He pours it into the way he melts into Mikey’s arms, caging him in against Mikey’s chest.
They stay as they are, neither startling as Takemichi’s phone alarm goes off in his back pocket. Mikey grabs for it blindly, clicking it off and sliding it back.
“Happy birthday, Manjirou.”
Mikey pulls back just enough to catch the wild glint in his smile.
“Does this mean I get my gift–?” He cuts himself off as Takemichi presses a hand none-too-gently into his face.
“We’re not fucking on the riverbank.”
“It would be so romantic!” Mikey’s pout is audible through Takemichi’s palm.
“I’m not getting dirt on this thing,” he says. A reminder to both of them what Mikey will find underneath his dress shirt and slacks. Mikey seems to pause as he realizes.
“Home it is.”
<><><>
The elevator is still open behind them as Mikey crowds Takemichi against the entry wall. His hands grab at anything they can—Takemichi’s hips, his belt loops, the tuck of his shirt, his hair, his ass.
His nips at the side of Takemichi’s throat. Takemichi sighs, knees already beginning to shake. He barely has it in him to push at Mikey’s chest.
“Upstairs,” he breathes out. The attention to his neck calls to memory the choker sitting in his pocket. “Now.”
The elevator clicks shut as Mikey leans back, a mischievous arch to his eyebrows.
“It’s my birthday,” he says, voice dipping into something knowingly velvety. “Can’t I have you here?” Takemichi levels him with an unamused look.
“Upstairs,” Takemichi repeats.
Mikey pouts, squinting at Takemichi. As if gauging how serious he is. Eventually, he huffs before ducking low and grabbing Takemichi by the thighs. Takemichi yelps as he’s thrown over Mikey’s shoulder. But he resigns himself to his fate when Mikey’s hand lands on his ass, the other all but marching towards the stairs.
Takemichi dutifully waits, arms crossed, until he’s tossed onto the bed. He hits the mattress with a thump, breath leaving him in a rush. Mikey is on him in an instant, tugging at his shirt to untuck it from his pants.
“Wait!” Takemichi shoves at his shoulders. “You absolute animal–”
The sound that comes from Mikey as he’s pushed away is what Takemichi can only describe as a growl. Animal . Takemichi rolls his eyes. He keeps one hand on Mikey’s shoulder, knowing the second he moves it he’ll be pounced on again, fishing the choker out of his pocket with his other hand. Mikey watches him with rapt attention and a blank face. Takemichi can read his impatience loud and clear.
Dark eyes follow the choker, widening a fraction as Takemichi slowly moves his hands to fasten it in place around his throat. Mikey seems frozen enough for Takemichi to take his time, adjusting it until it sits just right. Then he moves his hands to Mikey’s arms, squeezing lightly.
“Okay, continue.”
Mikey blinks down at him for a stupified moment, the whir of his brain almost audible to Takemichi.
“Fuck,” he whispers. He dives in, all tongue and teeth against Takemichi’s throat, just above the choker. Takemichi tilts his head back, breath stuttering. “Unbutton your shirt or I’m going to rip it off you,” Mikey warns.
Takemichi doesn’t need to be told twice. He fumbles with the buttons of his shirt, struggling to undo them all as quickly as he can while keeping his shirt relatively closed. It’s a struggle when Mikey runs his tongue along the underside of Takemichi’s jaw, peppering kisses along the same trail. It’s an extra struggle when Mikey sucks an undoubtedly dark mark just below his ear, teeth dragging at the sensitive skin.
He’s getting the last buttons when he feels Mikey’s hands at his belt, tugging harshly at the leather and buckle in an attempt to undo it without moving from Takemichi’s neck. Takemichi lifts his hips to assist, letting Mikey yank the belt from him and chuck it behind him. Neither of them care as it clunks down the loft staircase.
Mikey only sits up when Takemichi is finished with his shirt. He seems almost hesitant as his hands hover over Takemichi’s stomach. Takemichi just waits, knowing Mikey’s impatience will kick in.
He can feel a tremble in Mikey’s hands as they land on Takemichi’s skin, gently pushing under the fabric of the dress shirt. He pulls it open like a curtain, slowly and with all of his attention. It’s like the breath is punched out of him seeing what lies underneath.
“Fuck.” He slumps forward, forehead pressing against Takemichi’s shoulder as his fingers inch upwards to the lacy fabric. He runs his thumbs lightly along the bottom hem, pulling a shiver from Takemichi. “You’re perfect.” He pushes Takemichi’s shirt further down his shoulders to press kisses against his shoulder and across his collarbone while he drags his fingers over the lace. He’s only gentle for a moment, and then his teeth are biting down on soft skin. He leaves a trail of angry red marks leading down to Takemichi’s nipple. Takemichi gasps as Mikey sucks the nipple into his mouth, tongue covering it. He tweaks the other mercilessly between his fingers.
Takemichi keens with a gasp.
Mikey leaves a bite mark around the swollen skin before moving to the next.
Framing , Takemichi thought. The borders of a canvas for Mikey to leave purple and red.
“There’s more,” Takemichi struggles to get the words out. Mikey freezes. “You didn’t think I just had the top half, did you?” Takemichi turns his head to whisper the question against the crown of Mikey’s hair. Mikey seems to stop breathing for a moment.
Then, all at once, he’s scrambling to undo Takemichi’s pants. It’s strange, he’s used to being the one who’s desperate while Mikey teases him—used to being the one slowly losing his mind. He’s not unused to the crazed look in Mikey’s eyes, like he’ll flip their entire bed just to pin Takemichi down. He is, however, unused to seeing it because of a conscious action Takemichi has taken to appeal to him. It gives him a thrill of power. He wonders if this is how Mikey feels when he gets Takemichi to beg.
He lifts his hips again to help the removal of his pants, shrugging his shirt the rest of the way off and tossing it off the bed. His pants soon join it.
Mikey sits, frozen on his knees between Takemichi’s legs. His lips are parted slightly, face well and truly blank as he looks Takemichi up and down and over again.
“Happy birthday,” Takemichi breaks the silence, smiling bashfully at Mikey. All of his earlier embarrassment comes rushing in, but it’s far overshadowed by the clear desire in Mikey’s stillness. Which is an odd and ironic thing for anybody else, but nothing about Mikey ever follows where logic should go.
Mikey drags his eyes up to Takemichi’s face. He mouths something, a mere whisper that Takemichi doesn’t catch. He isn’t even sure if it was two syllables or three.
“What?” he asks, nudging Mikey’s hip with his knee. Mikey catches his calf in hand and pulls it up to his shoulder. He looks over the sheer stocking, little red bows dotted around the top. He turns his head to press a long and slow kiss against the inside of Takemichi’s leg.
“I love you so much.” It’s always nice to hear. Always makes Takemichi’s heart skip a beat, but it clearly isn’t what Mikey had whispered. He’s about to ask again when Mikey tips forward. He lands on his elbows, on either side of Takemichi’s head. “I’m going to make sure you can’t walk for a week, kay?” It sounds like a question but Takemichi knows it isn’t.
“I love you too.”
It’s permission enough for Mikey. He hooks his hands under Takemichi’s knees, hauling his legs up and apart to make room for his hips. Takemichi is nearly bent in half as Mikey rolls his hips down. Takemichi can feel the strain in his slacks—can feel it drag against his own cock. His breath stutters as he grabs the blankets below him.
“This all stays on,” Mikey says. Takemichi blinks up at him, already struggling to keep his eyes in focus. He opens his mouth to ask how but finds himself cut off as Mikey rests Takemichi’s calves against his shoulders and reaches down. His fingernails drag teasingly along the backside of Takemichi’s thighs before he reaches the lace panties. He pushes the crotch aside, just far enough to release Takemichi’s cock from the side and press two fingers against his ass. He pauses with a creeping smile.
“Did you prep yourself before dinner?” He doesn’t need an answer, pushing both fingers in to the second knuckle before he twists. Takemichi jolts, muscles tightening. He fists at the blankets, pulling the fabric.
“Fuck–”
“My beautiful Mitchy,” Mikey coos. He stares down at Takemichi beneath him with what he can only describe as pure affection. There’s an edge of hunger to the softness in his eyes, though.
Takemichi reaches for him, tugging weakly at his belt. It’s a bit of an awkward stretch still being pressed down by the thighs, but Mikey’s eyes glint with the action.
“Off.” Takemichi tugs again.
“You like my cock that much?” Mikey asks, voice soaked in a mocking flattery.
“Yes! Off!” Takemichi tugs harder.
Mikey beams in glee at the answer, he lets up just enough to ease the stretch in Takemichi’s thighs, yanking at his own pants until they’re pressed down around his thighs.
Takemichi prefers Mikey naked. Prefers to see every flex of his muscles, every curve and angle on his body. But this will do. His cock bouncing up out of its confines and against Takemichi’s thigh is more than enough.
Mikey folds his arm across the front of Takemichi’s thighs, holding them in place as he grabs the base of his cock with his other hand.
He isn’t slow, or even gentle, by any means. He pushes in all in one go, bottoming out before Takemichi’s lips have finished forming his responding moan.
“Manjirou-” Takemichi’s head falls back, all of his senses narrowing in to just Mikey. Mikey’s skin against his. Mikey’s panting laughter above him. Mikey’s hips rolling teasingly.
“You’re so pretty. So perfect. You feel so good,” Mikey coos. He presses down as he begins to thrust in earnest. The screaming burn in Takemichi’s thighs is nothing but an afterthought as Takemichi reaches for him, winding his arms around Mikey’s neck to bring him closer. “My Mitchy.”
It isn’t until Takemichi feels Mikey’s lips against his cheek does he realize he’s been crying. He hates when it happens, getting overwhelmed by any emotion and bursting into tears. But Mikey seems to love it. Mikey pushes him, like he’s trying to see just how many tears he can pull from the other.
Mikey begins to pull away, ignoring Takemichi’s whine. His hands land on the back of Takemichi’s thighs as he sits up on his knees.
“I wanna see you.”
Takemichi isn’t aware, nor has he considered, exactly how far apart his legs can go until Mikey is pushing them down and out. It feels obscene to be splayed out like this, but Mikey’s gaze burns in a way that swallows Takemichi whole.
Mikey’s eyes trail down Takemichi’s form, drinking him in as he rocks his hips harder. It feels like he slips even deeper. Takemichi keens, grasping for the blankets beneath his head.
“Fuck, fuck–” Takemichi hisses through his teeth. Mikey always feels like he fits so perfectly into Takemichi. He drags along Takemichi’s walls so mind-numbingly well. He knows exactly how to angle his hips, exactly how fast and rough to go. Takemichi has never stood a chance in lasting as long as he’d like to, but he can only imagine that’s purposeful on Mikey’s part.
“Touch yourself.” It’s a command rather than a suggestion. It takes Takemichi a moment to process, but when he does he reaches down to his own cock. “Good boy.”
And Takemichi is a goner.
He lets out a strangled cry as he comes, white streaking across his stomach and hand. He only has a brief second of lucidity enough to hope he didn’t get any on the lace before Mikey is slamming into him even harder. His brain goes to static.
“Manjirou…” Mikey’s name falls from his lips on repeat. The only thing grounding him is the bruising grip of Mikey’s hands and the rough slide of his cock. He’s half aware of Mikey’s quickening breaths and long groans. Half aware as Mikey stills, crashing down to bury his face in Takemichi’s neck. He clings to Mikey, basking in his warmth and weight.
“Love you so much…” Mikey murmurs against his skin. His hands fall from Takemichi’s legs, finding a new home on his waist. Takemichi sighs as his legs relax, heels hitting the mattress. He hums quietly, unsure if he can string together a sentence. Instead, he simply lets his eyes fall shut.
It takes another few moments before Mikey sits up. Takemichi’s weak whine only serves to make him freeze above him.
“Fuck,” Mikey whispers. There’s the sound of shuffling and the shifting of weight before Mikey pulls out. He gently pries one of Takemichi’s up, pressing his thigh to Takemichi’s stomach. Takemichi blinks his eyes open, bleary and half-awake, just in time to hear the shutter of Mikey’s phone’s camera.
“Mikey,” Takemichi frowns, a half-hearted gesture. It’s Mikey’s personal phone. One that never sees Toman business and has scarce few contacts. But still .
“You look so good, Mitchy.” Mikey lets Takemichi’s leg fall back against the bed, camera shutter going off again. “They’re going in a password locked folder, love,” he assures.
Takemichi huffs in resignation. Mikey really was much too possessive to allow photos of Takemichi to be seen by anyone other than himself. Takemichi reaches out a hand, flexing his fingers in request. Mikey obliges immediately, giving Takemichi his hand. He’s silent as Takemichi pulls his hand to his mouth, carefully pressing two fingers between his lips, pushing his tongue to meet them. Mikey curses under his breath before the camera shutter goes off in rapid succession.
“Give me a few hours to nap…and then…” Takemichi trails off, the implication well understood by the look in Mikey’s eyes.
He falls asleep to the quiet rustling of Mikey pulling and sliding lace from his body. No doubt he’ll be waken up in a few short hours. The thought puts a smile on his lips.