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It’s past midnight when the man walks in, tucking a strand of hair behind one ear as he surveys the bar. His features catch the low light with statuesque grace; Akira swallows a whiskey-flavored rush of adrenaline. Fuck, he thinks, readjusting the collar of his shirt. Of all the nights. His phone buzzes against the pocket of his jeans, taunting him. Holding his breath, he checks it—and then relaxes. She’s fine, he reminds himself, shoving the phone away.
The angel descends at the bar. Up close, he looks a hell of a lot less innocent; still divine, but perhaps already fallen. Akira bites back a grin, sighs, reconsiders, and bites back a flirtation. He peers down into his glass. The whiskey glimmers, but it says nothing.
The angel snorts. “We seem to have similar opinions about the evening.” He measures each word in a gentle tone; Akira leans towards the sound. Maybe he’s a lawyer—if so, more power to him. That lilting tenor would work wonders on a jury.
“Yeah,” Akira laughs. “Rough night?”
“I’ve had rougher.”
“Have you?” Akira’s eyes trail down, taking notes. Tailored clothes, gloved hands, gleaming shoes, and a trim, masculine body. “Hm. Yeah, I bet you have.” Despite the man’s put-together appearance, it’s not sarcasm. The angel raises an eyebrow.
“Interesting. Men like you tend to assume that I’m delicate.” He leans forward. “But you didn’t. Why?”
“You look perfect,” he says. The man’s face twitches. “But you don’t look spoiled. Call it a hunch.”
“Fair enough.” The man grins, and Akira swallows and realizes that he’s passed some sort of test. “Are you familiar with the work of Carl Jung?”
Akira blinks. “In passing. Why?”
“I won’t bore you with the details,” he says, “but Jung discussed the notion of a persona—the outer self, adapted to suit one’s conscious identity.”
“Your mask,” Akira says, staring down at his drink.
“Precisely. But there’s also the shadow, the denied self. The kind man rejects his unkind feelings, the powerful man sneers at his own powerlessness. Everyone has something about themselves that they refuse to admit.” He laughs. “And everyone’s mask serves a different purpose. For example, you.”
Akira swallows. “Me?”
“You look benign,” the man says, tilting his beautiful head. Akira snorts.
“Thanks.”
“Don’t act offended, I know you’re not. You choose to wear those glasses; I can tell from here that they aren’t prescription.” Akira flushes. “I know exactly what I’m hiding underneath my tailored coat.” The man grins, warm and dangerous. Heat rises up Akira’s neck, snatching his breath. It’s like sitting too close to a campfire. “What about you? What are you hiding?”
Akira wonders if this is all a dream, a fantasy, the delicious torture of his own self-conscious.
“If you want to see my shadow,” Akira laughs, “at least let me buy you a drink first. I don’t even know your name.”
“My name is Goro,” he says. He inches closer, allowing their knees to brush. “And I prefer whiskey.”
Akira could listen to Goro talk for hours. At this rate, he will.
“What made you go out tonight in the first place?” Goro takes another drink; he’s flushed, but he hasn’t lost his melodic eloquence. Akira’s eyes flick down to study the pale line of his neck, getting lost for a moment. Then, he refocuses, memories dripping back into his addled mind.
“My friend got into a car accident. In America.” Akira sighs. “She’s fine, it’s not a big deal.”
“Ah. I’m sorry to hear that,” Goro says.
“You?”
“My father went to prison.” Akira’s heart drops. Goro laughs. “Don’t look at me like that. It’s no tragedy. If anything, I’m angry that I wasn’t the one to toss him into his cell.”
“Damn. That bad, huh?”
“Worse,” Goro says. He sighs. “God, I don’t know why I’m telling you this. You must have one of those faces.” He grins. “Benign. Is that it?”
Akira shrugs. “Could be.” Goro smiles. Akira bites back a groan, aching to taste the curled lips. “Are you scared? You said it yourself, you don’t know what I’m hiding.” It’s a joke, but Goro doesn’t smile.
“I’m not scared of you,” Goro says. Akira’s heart contorts. “In fact, I feel…”
Akira swallows. “What do you feel?”
Goro leans in to whisper against Akira’s ear. “I feel like I want to take you home.”
Blood thrums against Akira’s skull. “You can take me anywhere you want,” he whispers back.
Goro hums. “Unfortunately, it’s complicated.” Akira’s heart sinks. “Oh, not—I’m not taken. The opposite, in fact.”
Akira frowns. “Alright. What’s complicated?”
“I don’t have much sexual experience,” he says, painting a matter-of-fact tone onto the words. “There have been offers, of course, but—well." Goro laughs. "I have what you might call an eccentric taste.”
Akira swallows. “Eccentric?”
“Yes." Goro tilts his head. Akira stares at him, thinking a half formed thought about apples and snakes in the garden. “Would you like to know more?” Akira nods. Goro leans in to tell him. Afterwards, Akira takes a deep breath and a long swig of whiskey.
“That sounds, ah,” Akira coughs. “Adventurous.”
It’s an understatement.
“I’ve never had penetrative sex,” Goro says, auburn eyes glinting. Akira wishes he’d stop saying things like ‘penetrative sex’ with his wicked, honey-sweet voice. “But don’t mistake my lack of experience for naivety. You asked me what I like, Akira—and I know what I like.” He tilts his head. “At least in theory. I’ve never had someone to experiment with, not to the extent that I desire.”
Akira’s cock might explode. “Oh,” he says, feigning nonchalance. “Really?”
“I’ve been looking,” Goro says, “but most men don’t interest me. You do. There’s something about you, Akira, something I can’t quite put my finger on.”
“That’s a shame,” Akira says, leaning in. “I’d love to have your fingers on me.”
Goro snorts. “Nevermind. You’re insufferable.” He lays his head down. “God, I’m drunk. I’m not normally like this. Maybe it’s your fault.”
“My bad, I guess,” Akira chuckles. He smiles down at Goro’s lowered head and Goro blinks up at him like he’s passed another test. It’s fascinating—Goro seems to enjoy nonchalance, roguishness, and playful rudeness, but he’s dressed like someone peeled him off of a magazine cover. Akira wants to throw him down and wrestle with him just to ruin his perfect coat. Akira bets he’d like it.
“Yes. Your bad,” Goro says. “Are you planning to make it up to me?”
Akira grins. “However you’d like.”
“Are you certain? You know what I’d like to do,” Goro says, gaze piercing and unembarrassed, “I’m not interested in the average sexual escapade.” He chuckles. “Feel free to decline. You’ve improved my evening, regardless.”
Akira laughs. He wouldn’t be opposed to an ‘average sexual escapade.’ Then again, Goro’s eccentric tastes. Akira swallows. He’s not opposed to that, either.
“I’ll sober up,” Akira says, straightening up and pushing his glass away. “And we’ll discuss it.”
“For the record, I’m not interested in romance.” Goro looks away. “That’s why it’s so difficult to—I need a partner, someone I trust, but dating is horrible. I don’t know how anyone stands it.” He sighs. “I swear, some people can spit out ten thousand words without forming a single coherent thought.”
Akira laughs. “Speaking from experience?”
“Yes,” Goro groans. “My boss occasionally tries to set me up with the other interns. I’m polite towards them, of course.” He scowls down at the table, cheeks pink. It might be menacing if he wasn’t drunk. As it is, he looks about as dangerous as a growling kitten. “I hate being polite.”
“Then don’t be,” Akira says. “Not with me.” Goro’s eyes swivel up, and Akira swallows. “It’s better if we’re honest. As long as we can communicate,” Akira whispers, leaning in, “we can have a good time.”
Goro chuckles. “A good time, huh?” He grins, and for the first time, it’s lopsided and clumsy. Goro bares his teeth like a hyena, like a devil, like a menace. Akira wonders how often he allows himself to grin like that. “I’ll hold you to that, Akira.” And with that, Goro sits up straight, melting back into his elegant repose. He offers a tight-lipped grin, restrained and demure, but the hyena howls away in the corner of his eyelids.
Akira’s heart frantically rattles the bars of its bony cage. Akira swallows and thinks, I am so, so fucked.
The next morning, Akira rips Goro Akechi’s remaining ‘virginity’ to shreds in an elaborate piece of pre-prepared roleplay. After that, he spends the better part of a month destroying the pieces.
“I am so glad to be back in Tokyo,” Ann groans. She’s fine now, aside from a faint yellow bruise draped across one shoulder. “I didn’t think the wreck was that serious, honestly, but the next day I couldn’t even move my neck.”
“I’m glad you’re okay.”
“Oh, yeah, I’m fine,” she laughs, cheerful as ever. “I’m curious to hear what you’ve been up to. You seem preoccupied.” She takes a sip of iced coffee, waggling her eyebrows.
Akira snorts. “Who told you?”
“Everyone. We still have the group chat from your surprise birthday party two years ago.” She sighs. “But nobody knows who it is! You’re killing us! Not even Futaba could figure it out.”
“We met by coincidence.” Akira shrugs. “As far as I know, we don’t have any mutual friends.” He laughs, shaking his head. “It doesn’t matter. It’s not serious.” His heart kicks up some dust, petulant. He ignores it.
“Liar. You’ve never dedicated this much time to someone before.” She snorts. “You can’t be having that much sex.” Akira looks away. “Oh my god. Akira, seriously? Didn’t you spend, like, three solid days at his apartment? There’s no way you guys are just fuck buddies.”
Akira shrugs. Ann pauses. “Are you okay? You seem kinda…”
Fighting a rush of embarrassment, Akira swallows. “Kinda what?”
“I dunno. Sad?” She leans forward. “Are you interested in him? You should—“
“He doesn’t want a boyfriend,” Akira says, “it’s not romantic. We just have sex, that’s all.” Akira sighs. “It’s good.”
“Well, geez, I sure hope it is.” Ann rolls her eyes, flipping a ponytail over one shoulder. “But it sounds like you want more.”
“He needed a partner,” Akira whispers, glancing around. Nobody’s listening, not that it’s terribly risqué. “Someone he could trust.”
Ann’s eyebrows shoot up to her hairline. “Wow. Okay. So that’s all you’ve been—“
“That’s all.”
“And you’re sure you’re being safe?”
Akira bristles. “He didn’t have much experience, not at first, but I know how to—“
“I meant emotionally, Akira.” Ann bites her lip. “If you fall in love with this guy, and you don’t tell him…”
“It’s not love.” It’s not, it can’t be. “We just spend a lot of time together.”
Ann narrows her eyes, leaning in close. “So, you have been doing something other than freaky sex to each other?”
“We play chess sometimes.” Akira shrugs. “He talks to me about the books he’s reading.” Akira makes coffee in the morning, when he stays over. Goro accepts his serving with an incomprehensible mumble of thanks, humming around the first sip. Akira wonders what it would feel like to chase the liquid with his tongue. What it would taste like. “It’s easy to talk to him,” he says. Easy to laugh with him, easy to sleep beside him. Too easy, almost.
“Seriously? It sounds like you’re already married.”
Akira laughs. “We aren’t married.” Outside of sex, they’ve never even kissed. “Don’t worry about us, alright?” Akira smiles. “We’re fine, I promise.”
“There’s no use struggling,” Goro whispers. Akira strains against a winding shackle of black rope. “You’re exactly where you deserve to be.” Tied to a chair, naked except for a skintight pair of black boxer-briefs—Goro’s favorite. “You’re mine. Do you understand?”
Akira’s brain melts away, awareness overtaken by pleasure. “Yes.”
With two firm hands, Goro grabs him by the neck. A rush of adrenaline buzzes up into Akira’s skull. “Wrong answer,” Goro says. “Try again.”
“Sorry. Yes, sir,” Akira says, smirking.
Goro smacks him. Akira’s head swims. “Don’t get clever with me,” Goro warns. “You’re only good for one thing. Do you know what that is, Akira?” Akira nods. Goro straddles his lap, chasing pleasure with his hips. “One thing. What is it, Akira? What are you good for?”
“My cock,” Akira laughs, shifting his lap to accommodate Goro’s weight. “It’s all yours, princess.”
“Don’t call me that,” Goro growls, sinking a hand into Akira’s hair, tugging his head away to put him back in his place. “You insolent bastard.”
“Not insolent,” Akira whispers. “Dangerous. Why else would you arrest me?” Akira strains against the rope, laughing.
Goro yanks Akira’s head to the side; pleasure rips out of his throat as a soft gasp.
“I arrested you because you’re a filthy, pathetic excuse for a thief.” Goro stands up, walking to retrieve a metal box from his bed. “And now I’m going to punish you.” Goro hikes his foot up onto the chair, resting it between Akira’s knees. His wicked face looms from above, hyenas howling in the corners of his eyes. “Aren’t you lucky?”
God, Akira thinks. I really, really am.
Goro spends several hours making good use of the contents of that box, a healthy dose of the usual with a few surprises mixed in. As soon as the scene ends, Goro takes care of him with graceful ease, shifting out of the fiction and back into reality.
They finish, clean up, turn off the lights and crawl into bed. Akira itches to roll over and wrap his arms around Goro, but Goro wouldn’t want that. He treats sex like an intellectual exercise; he’s always talking, always analyzing, always calculating his next move. Cerebral. That’s a good word for it, Akira muses. Though intimate, their trysts lack any affection.
“Akira,” Goro whispers. “Can I ask you something?”
Akira swallows, fingers twitching. He imagines reaching out through the dimness to stroke Goro’s hair. “Yeah?”
“I appreciate everything that you’ve done for me.” It’s dark enough that Akira can’t make out Goro’s expression. “You’re an excellent partner.”
“So are you.” Akira’s heart skitters.
“There’s something I want to try. Tomorrow night.”
Akira’s heart stops. “What is it?”
“I need to think about it first. It’s a lot to ask of you.” Akira squirms. It’s not like Goro to beat around the bush. “To be honest, I’m not sure if I can handle it either. I need to do some research.”
“Of course.” Akira swallows. “No promises, but I’ll consider it.”
“Thank you.” Silence washes over them. “Akira…“ The covers rustle. “Well, nevermind. Tomorrow.”
“Tomorrow,” Akira says. “Goodnight, Goro.”
“Goodnight,” Goro replies.
Together, they shift into a light, uneasy sleep.
It’s a brutal day for the tattered remains of Akira’s lovelorn psyche. The day begins—it drags on—and then, like all days, it ends. The sun sets as the streetlamps rise, and Akira gives Morgana a treat and an apologetic pat before he makes his way to Goro’s apartment.
He knocks, as always, a routine embedded into his knuckles after mere weeks. Goro swings open the door.
“Fancy seeing you here,” Akira quips, grappling with the nervousness in his lungs.
“Yes.” Goro snorts as Akira crosses the threshold. “I hope you weren’t caught off guard. It’s not often you find a man sitting alone in his own home.”
“Yeah. Weirdo,” Akira says, leaning in. “Come here often?”
Goro sighs. “I don’t know why I put up with you.”
Akira moves in closer, tilting his head. He inflates himself with forced confidence. “Yes you do.”
Something in the room shifts.
“Yes. I do.” Goro smirks. “May as well cut to the chase. Shall we?”
Akira sweeps his arm, gesturing to the bedroom. He follows behind, keeping an eye on the tension that lifts Goro’s shoulders into the air.
“I’ve given it some consideration,” Goro says, leading the way to the hall. “And I think I’m ready to try something new. But if it’s too much for you, feel free to back out.”
Akira swallows.
“What do you want to try?”
Goro pauses at the bedroom door, swallowing visibly. “I’ve made a few preparations, but I need to change clothes.” He opens the door. “Wait on the bed.”
Akira steps in, half expecting to see some grand display of unconventional sexuality, but it’s empty. Tidy. Dim lights, a few candles flickering away. Goro steps towards the en suite bathroom; then, he pauses.
“This is no different from anything else we’ve done. Take it seriously,” Goro warns. “If I use our safeword, you stop. Do you understand?”
Akira swallows. “Of course.”
“Good.” Goro slips out of sight into the bathroom, but he continues to talk, raising his voice. “I appreciate your professionalism, you know. In fact I’m a bit jealous. It seems so easy for you to maintain control.”
Akira hears a belt clatter against the floor. His mouth goes dry. “I do my best,” Akira says.
“We make an excellent team,” Goro says. Akira closes his eyes, picturing the smirk on his face. “I’ve never been good at connecting with others, not on a personal level. I have the tendency to distrust.”
Akira laughs. “Yeah. I get it.”
“You do,” Goro says, stepping back out into the bedroom. “We’re similar, you and I.” He tilts his head. “Yet different. Like two sides of the same coin.”
Akira stops breathing. “Nice shirt,” he says, reaching forward. Goro moves in towards him, taking his hand.
“You left it here,” Goro says, tugging at the fabric. “Last week.” Glassy eyes stare out from a blank face. “Akira, would you like to see my shadow?”
Akira blinks. “What?” Around them, candlelight flickers. The intimacy of the moment crawls up Akira’s spine, scratching at his bones.
“The night we met, we talked about Jungian psychology. Shadows, personas.” Goro leans in. “Who we are, what we pretend to be. The things we refuse to admit.”
“Right,” Akira says. “Shadows.”
“I want to try something.” There’s a hollowness behind Goro’s eyes, a mechanical stiffness in his limbs. Somehow, his hand feels brittle. “If you’re willing.”
“Maybe,” Akira says, because he shouldn’t agree before he knows what the ‘something’ is—but he wants to say yes. He wants to ignite the spark behind Goro’s eyes, bring back life and fluidity to his limbs. The desire aches against Akira’s throat. “What do you want to try?”
Goro moves in closer. He takes a long breath. “Have sex with me.”
Akira blinks. “Alright,” he says, chuckling. “What—”
“No, nothing like that.” Goro stares, still eerily still and unblinking. “I just want you to have sex with me.” He opens and shuts his mouth. There’s something else, something he can’t say. “I want to have sex with you.”
Akira reaches out to hold Goro’s waist, hands buzzing. “Any requests?”
Goro shakes his head with languid precision, slow enough not to disturb his feathery bangs. “No.” Unable to bear it any longer, Akira grabs Goro and tugs him onto the bed, crawling to loom over him.
“I would love to have sex with you,” Akira whispers, leaning in to mouth along Goro’s neck. Goro gasps. “What’s the safeword?”
“Curry,” Goro whispers.
“How do you feel?”
Underneath him, Goro shudders. “Good.”
“It’s no different from anything else.” Akira swallows. On a practical level, it’s true. “If you need me to stop, I’ll stop. Got it?”
“I’ll be fine,” Goro says, “but this isn’t—I’m not—this isn’t me.” He laughs, raspy and annoyed. “I’m not the sort of person who wants this.”
Akira presses a kiss against his neck. “If you hate it, you’ll never have to do it ever again.”
Goro relaxes. “Fair enough.” He shifts on the mattress. “What should we do?”
“Whatever we want,” Akira laughs.
“Alright. What would you—“ Goro wraps his arms around Akira, tilting his head back. Akira accepts the invitation, pressing his tongue against Goro’s pulse. “If I were one of your normal partners, what would you do to me?”
“Normal?” Akira laughs. “You’re not normal.” Akira rakes his hand up into his own t-shirt, dragging fingertips over Goro’s bare skin. “I don’t want you to be.”
“Poor choice of words,” Goro laughs, hissing at a scrape from Akira’s teeth. “What would you do if I were—hypothetically speaking, how would you treat a boyfriend?” Akira closes his eyes, a dull ache thrumming against his chest. Unable to put it to words, he pours it out through his fingertips. Goro leans into the touch.
“You might not like it,” Akira warns, trailing his lips down to Goro’s shoulder. “I’m affectionate.”
Goro stiffens. “Affectionate how?”
“Physically.” Emotions swarm up against his skull. “It’s hard to—” The emotions buzz. Akira presses his lips down, lifts them back up. “It’s easier to show.”
“Yes, but how do you show it? What’s the difference? You’ve kissed me before, I’m sure you’ve kissed plenty of people.” Goro tilts his head away. “I always imagined that romantic affection would feel different, somehow.”
Akira shrugs. “The feeling is the difference, I guess.” He lifts himself up to gaze down. Though disheveled and flushed, Goro looks a far cry from demure, glassy eyes peering forward with bird-like intensity. Akira swallows. “It’s about what you’re trying to say. You know?”
Goro shakes his head. “I don’t. Not really.”
“Do you want me to show you?”
For a long moment, Goro says nothing. Then he nods. “Show me.”
Akira takes a deep breath. The emotions continue to whirl around his head, sinking down his throat and fighting against his ribs. He aches from the intensity, from the dizzying blend of kinship and desire. Akira’s not the sort to put things into words, not unless he has to.
Closing his eyes, he leans in and pours his thoughts into a kiss.
It’s soft at first, but there’s something intense about it, something electric. Goro gasps as Akira sinks down, curling protective arms around a slender waist. His lips chase a series of passing whims; they part, they close, they slide. Goro rises upwards as Akira falls deeper, the pair desperate to meet one another. When Akira laughs, Goro laughs too, even though Akira doesn’t know why he started laughing in the first place. As Akira pulls away, the smile melts off of Goro’s face.
“There.” Akira laughs again, tugging a hand up to cradle Goro’s face. “What was I trying to say?”
Goro’s glassy eyes break, expression utterly shifting.
“Make love to me,” Goro says, no longer blank, no longer hesitant. “Fuck me like I belong to you.” He reaches up to sink his hands into Akira’s hair, tugging at the black locks. “Please.”
Akira slams back down into a rough kiss. It’s not long before he breaks away. “You’d let me?”
“I’d let you do fucking anything to me,” Goro moans, tugging him back in by the head. Akira’s heart soars as Goro kisses him. “I wondered what you’d be like. I couldn’t stop thinking about it.” Another kiss. “Sometimes I see you in the morning and—and I wonder. I want such ridiculous things.” Goro laughs. “I hate it. It’s not who I am.”
Akira hums. “That’s what you meant.”
“What?”
“Your shadow,” Akira says.
“Right, yes. My shadow.” Goro groans. “I can’t believe I said that. I should’ve just asked you to fuck me.”
Akira moves his hands down to grab Goro’s ass, digging into the flesh, spreading him apart. Goro gasps. “I will.” He gets up, pulling back and away to sit on his knees. Goro follows suit, tilting his head. “But that’s not all you asked for.” Goro stares as Akira grabs his hand, bringing it up to his lips. He kisses the fingers with delicate lips, and Goro sucks in a sharp breath.
“You don’t have to—”
“I warned you,” Akira laughs, trailing another kiss towards the knuckle. Goro stares, eyes transfixed to the motion. “Affectionate. Tell me if you want me to stop.” Akira’s lips meet Goro’s knuckle, the back of his hand, the crook of his thumb. After a moment, Akira flips the hand over to kiss down the palm. He pauses at the wrist.
Goro doesn’t ask him to stop.
Akira presses an open-mouth kiss against Goro’s wrist, tasting the delicate skin. Goro gasps, tilting his head back. “Why does that feel so good?” Akira shrugs as he slides his tongue over Goro’s pulse. He nips at the flesh, drags his lips back up to the fingertips. Eyes fluttering, he sucks two of the digits into his mouth.
“Fuck,” Goro moans, pulsing his fingers in and out. Akira applies consistent pressure with his tongue, then pulls away to lick between them, implying an altogether different act of service. When Goro’s eyes go wide, Akira laughs, tugging the hand to his chest. He presses it flat against his heart.
Goro digs his palm into the flesh. Akira’s heart pounds, embarrassed to be perceived. Goro claws his hand, nails digging crescents into the skin. “You feel it too,” he whispers, laughing. He leans in, grabbing Akira by the neck with his free hand. “I can see it in your eyes. You really are hopelessly honest, aren’t you?”
“My bad,” Akira says, laughing. “Can’t help it.”
“I don’t want you to,” Goro says, expression curled and sharp. His hand presses into Akira’s chest, pushing him backwards. “I want you just like this.” Akira acquiesces to the pressure, shifting onto his back. Goro straddles his waist and Akira sucks in a breath, gazing at the naked display of want—Goro flushed and panting, glassy eyes cracked like two boiled marbles, Akira’s t-shirt hanging haphazardly on his frame.
“You’ve got me,” Akira says, pulling Goro down so that their chests lay flush. His cock twitches against Goro’s ass, desperate for more pressure.
“I’ve got you,” Goro echoes, eyes wild and free. He grins, prowling, peering down like a vulture. “I want to keep you here.” He laughs, grabbing Akira’s wrists and pinning them up above his head. “Maybe I should tie you up again.”
Akira shakes his head. “No need. I won’t leave unless you tell me to.”
Goro sighs, bowing his head. “You won’t, will you?” He lifts his eyes back up. They glimmer underneath his bangs, lit up with something fierce. “I believe it.” He laughs. “I shouldn’t.”
Akira brings their hands down between them, still connected palm to wrist. “Why not?”
“That’s not who I am. I take a different approach to life,” Goro says, taking a breath. “I know how romance works. It’s a psychochemical reaction, isn’t it? Nothing more than a surge of hormones. It feels permanent, but it isn’t.”
Akira closes his eyes, knowing better than to offer a sentimental promise. He swallows. “Does it matter?”
“Of course it matters,” Goro scoffs. “It’s all anyone ever talks about. They want a partner who swears to always love them. It’s foolish. How can you promise to maintain an involuntary biological response?”
Silence falls. Akira ponders the statement.
“You’re not sentimental,” Akira says, leveling the words. “But you still want to be loved.” Goro looks away, expression cracking, and Akira’s heart clenches. “Don’t you? That’s the shadow you keep talking about.”
Goro laughs. “Fuck you,” he whispers, lacking bite.
“If you’d like,” Akira says, freeing his hands to grasp Goro’s waist.
“I can’t just—you can’t expect me to—”
Akira realizes that Goro can’t rely on a kiss, or a movement, or a series of actions. He needs Akira to put this into words. The notion claws at Akira’s brain, struggling to take root; in moments like these, he can never bring himself to speak. His chest constricts, choked by his own frustration.
“You can’t expect me to…” Goro trails off, unable to finish. He closes his eyes, face contorted by the inability to communicate. Akira knows the feeling, knows how awful it is, how much it hurts.
He takes a breath and forces his own mouth to open.
“You keep telling me that you’re a certain type of person,” Akira says. “You’re practical. You want to be in control. That’s why you like doing scenes, right? I get that.” He takes a breath. “But you want love, too. The kind of love that might hurt.” Akira laughs. “But you can’t have the wildness and the practicality. Anyone with enough passion is too unreliable, anyone reliable enough is too boring. That’s what it feels like, at least.”
Goro blinks. “You put it into words.”
“Tried to.”
Goro laughs. “I wasn’t sure you could talk for that long.”
“Can’t,” Akira says, swallowing. “Not usually.”
“Right. You’re a man of action, aren’t you? You’d rather prove something than say it out loud,” Goro says. “That’s another place where we differ. But if you can put something like this into words, maybe I could…”
Goro leans in, eyes wide. With slow precision, he closes them, reaching out to cradle Akira’s face, tracing a cheekbone with the soft pad of his thumb. He presses forward into a kiss that’s unlike anything they’ve ever done before—the sort of kiss that Akira daydreams about, conjuring warm visions of softness and morning coffee. He can’t help but smile into it, wrapping his arms around Goro’s waist, pulling him close. Goro sighs, wetting their lips with his tongue and dragging a gentle hand down Akira’s neck. He pulls away without deepening further; Akira aches for more.
The heady mixture of control and chaos is so uniquely Goro that Akira can’t help but smile. Passionate, yet grounded.
“There,” Goro says, laughing. “What was I trying to say?”
Akira reaches up to pull him back down.
Their hips reconnect, grinding together with forceful rhythm, and Akira groans and deepens the kiss with his tongue, desperate for connection. He scrambles to drag his hands along Goro’s body, mapping the curves and ridges.
“I need it,” Goro moans, rocking his body. “I need you to fuck me.”
Akira lifts up, pushing Goro back on the mattress. He reaches forward to rip off Goro’s underwear. “You’re keeping the shirt on,” he says, smirking.
“I knew you’d like it,” Goro laughs, grinning like a maniac. “You’re possessive, aren’t you?”
“Guilty,” Akira says, tossing the aside to remove his own shirt.
“I always thought I’d hate that in a man.”
Akira climbs off of the bed and out of his pants, laughing. “Want me to stop?”
“Fuck no,” Goro says, dragging him back onto the bed. “I want you to be even worse.”
“Careful, I might take you up on that,” Akira says, reaching in between Goro’s thighs. He pauses. “Did you—“
Goro looks away. “I didn’t want to wait.”
“You’re wet,” Akira says, sliding his finger inside. There’s no resistance. Goro tilts his head back and sighs. “Hm. You like that, don’t you?”
“Shut up and fuck me.”
Akira shucks out of his boxers, stroking his cock. He reaches towards the bedside table, grabbing some lube and a condom. “Give it to me,” Goro says, holding out a hand. Goro takes it, ripping open the package and rolling it on. Akira sighs at the pressure of Goro’s hand.
“We’re going to have sex,” Goro says, pumping Akira’s erection. “Regular sex.” He stares down at his own hand, watching it jerk off Akira’s cock. “Nothing else.”
“Vanilla,” Akira laughs. “How do you feel?”
“Fine,” Goro says. “It’s just strange.” Akira grabs the lube, pouring some onto his cock. Goro continues to stroke with careful pressure and precision. “I’ve never done this before. How should I…”
Akira swallows, removing Goro’s hand. He wipes it off on the t-shirt he’s wearing, which is sexier than it has any right to be.
“You asked me how I’d fuck you if you were my boyfriend,” Akira says, reaching forward to brush Goro’s hair behind his ear. “Do you still want me to show you?”
Goro nods.
Akira shoves him back onto the pillows, climbing on top of him. He presses himself against Goro’s entrance, smiling down at him. “I’ve been thinking about this all day,” he whispers, pressing inside. Goro gasps, spreading his legs. “You drive me crazy.”
“Oh my god,” Goro whines, already rocking his hips. He must’ve been fucking a dildo; there’s no resistance, no hesitance at all. “I can’t—I’m not going to last very long.”
Akira thrusts hard and deep. “We can go again later.”
“It feels new.” Goro wraps his arms around Akira’s neck. “I don’t know how to—what do I say? This is so fucking ridiculous. It’s not like we haven’t—“
“You don’t have to say anything,” Akira whispers, leaning in for a kiss. “Not if you don’t want to.”
“I can’t say nothing,” Goro groans, “not when you’re fucking me like this. Not when you’re—fuck. Right there,” he whines, dragging his nails down Akira’s back. Akira grins, focusing on the rhythm, on the angle that seems to work the best. “Please don’t stop.”
“I’m not.”
“I want you to fuck me like I belong to you.”
“I know.”
“Akira, I think I might be—I shouldn’t say it, but I—“
The rhythm slows. “You wanted me to make love to you.”
Goro nods against Akira’s shoulder. He groans. “It’s idiotic. It’s not like there’s a difference, it’s just sex.”
Akira rocks his body with renewed purpose. “The difference is what you’re trying to say. Right?” Akira presses every inch of himself against Goro, reaching up to cradle his head. He kisses a soft patch of neck, trailing more kisses up to an ear. Goro moans. “Do you like that?”
“Yes,” Goro whispers, reverent. “Say more.”
That night, Akira tells him everything.
The next morning, memories swirl around Akira’s mind like the hazy remnants of a dream.
He wakes up before Goro, as he always does, padding into the kitchen to make coffee. He wonders if they should talk about this. For all that they understand each other, they still haven’t codified their relationship, not really. It’s tenuous and new, aching and fresh. Love bites fizzle against Akira’s collar, filling him with warmth.
Goro enters at the smell of coffee, as he always does. Akira hands him a cup. He takes it, staring down into the steam, watching it puff and curl. After a long moment, he leans up and forward to press a kiss against Akira’s lips. “Thank you,” he says. Akira’s heart soars.
“Any time.”
“I had another idea for a scene,” Goro says, taking a sip of coffee. “But I’ll need at least a few days to prepare.” He takes a breath. “In the meantime…”
Akira presses into Goro’s side and grins, running a suggestive hand down his back. He's careful not to disturb Goro’s coffee. Goro snorts.
“Don’t be crass,” Goro says, taking a long, preparatory sip. “I’m taking my boyfriend out on a date.”
Akira’s heart stops. “Boyfriend, huh?”
“Yes,” Goro says, staring forward with a calculated sort of firmness. “Assuming he wants to go, of course.”
“He does,” Akira says, lifting his palm up to rest in the crook of Goro’s back. Goro’s face relaxes, and Akira smiles, leaning forward to kiss the coffee out of his mouth.