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It was evening when the train pulled into the station, and Akihiko felt stale and vaguely tacky from all the hours he’d spent in transit. He liked travelling, he liked it a lot actually; seeing new sights, learning new things, but the actual reality of getting from one place to another, that was overrated.
He hauled his duffel bag over one shoulder and followed a couple off the train, angling to make it through the doors without clipping his bag. The couple was talking about some movie they’d just seen and Akihiko listened absently, enjoying the familiar cadence of his native tongue after weeks of fumbling through another language.
The sky outside was full of smudgy grey clouds and the air was still a little warm, shockingly fresh after so much recycled air. There was a thin crowd of salarymen drifting towards the snack bar to the left of the station, but he couldn’t guess where anyone else was coming from or going to.
He scanned the stretch of road and his eyes snapped immediately to a familiar silhouette on the sidewalk; broad shoulders, solid stance, bad posture. Shinji was turned away, so he hadn’t seen Akihiko yet, and Akihiko walked over slowly, taking the chance to drink him in.
Shinji had on a jean jacket that was scuffed at the elbows and fraying around the hem, obviously old but Akihiko hadn’t seen it before, so it must’ve been secondhand. The tail of his shirt hung past the jacket, probably a flannel despite the mild weather, since he always ran cold. He was wearing the same old boots and hat, and his hair fell past his shoulders, even longer than last time.
Akihiko felt a little thrill in his chest, a loosening of muscles he hadn’t known were tense. He could feel himself smiling already, an overflow of feeling he couldn’t control. It was good to be back.
One of Shinji’s hands fell from his pocket and he rubbed his fingers together at his side, a quiet, beckoning gesture. When Akihiko followed his gaze he saw a small shadow, hunched beside the hedge lining the sidewalk.
The shadow poured itself over the lip of the garden and unfurled into a brown cat, nose lifted to scent the air.
The feeling in Akihiko’s chest spiked and he laughed out of sheer joy. Shinji’s head jerked up and he spun in place.
“Hey,” Akihiko said, coming to a stop in front of him.
“Hey yourself,” Shinji replied, breaking into a shy grin. Akihiko reached out and knocked his hand against Shinji’s knuckles.
“Making friends?” Akihiko indicated the cat that was eyeing him cautiously. Shinji mumbled something vague then reached out and ran his fingers delicately around the shell of Akihiko’s ear.
Electricity crackled down Akihiko’s spine. He felt his ear go hot, as if Shinji had scalded him.
“I gotta tell you somethin’,” Shinji said, tucking his hand into his jacket pocket.
“Yeah?” Akihiko managed, still reeling from his touch.
“Fuuka… Well, her summer internship in Tokyo fell through.” Shinji waved his hand vaguely. “Tax fraud, or somethin’, but her subletter’s—”
“Fuuka committed tax fraud?” Akihiko interrupted, confused.
“No, you idiot.” Shinji shot him a look. “And even if she did I wouldn’t tell you.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“Oh, forget it.” Shinji’s tone made it clear he was only barely resisting the urge to roll his eyes. “The point is she’s staying with me right now while her advisor tries to sort shit out.”
“Okay,” Akihiko said slowly. It was a surprise, but it’d be nice to spend more time with Fuuka. Shinji was still looking skittish though. “Is there something else?”
Shinji shifted his hat back then forwards, not looking at him. “It’s Golden Week.”
Akihiko adjusted the strap of his bag, wondering if he was forgetting something. “I know.”
“I invited Ken over for the break, before I knew you were coming back.” Shinji frowned at him. It had been a last minute decision; Akihiko’d had to cut his trip short and booked his flight home less than a week ago. They hadn’t had time to talk since, but that was pretty typical when they were trying to coordinate across time zones.
Akihiko knocked his hand into Shinji’s again. “Sorry for the trouble.”
“It’s no trouble.” Shinji seemed even more annoyed by his apology, then sighed. “Fuuka had the idea to go to this wisteria festival.”
“That sounds great,” Akihiko said, brightening.
“I’m glad you’re feelin’ so positive,” Shinji grumbled.
“What?”
“It’s just…the apartment’s pretty crowded.”
“I could guess as much.”
Shinji huffed. “It ain’t very private. Understand?”
Akihiko’s brows pinched together. Shinji gave him a look. “Wait. But…we’ll make it work.” Shinji just kept looking at him. “Right?”
“We’ll see,” he said, ominously, then turned for home.
Akihiko had been proud of the apartment when he’d first secured it; a slightly larger than usual kitchen, a walkable distance from the station, a price they could afford (after his parents handled the key money). He’d thought of it as his first real gift to Shinji, finding a place that suited them both.
He’d also been hoping…well it only had the one bedroom. He’d been hoping the place would say what he couldn’t.
Now, crammed in around their little dining table with Fuuka and Ken, and Koromaru panting at their feet, Akihiko wished he’d had the foresight to rent a place that was at least built for three.
Fuuka had prepared a welcome home dinner and was quietly proud of her work. It was a lively meal; Ken was hungry for stories from abroad, Akihiko was curious about Fuuka’s studies, and Shinji kept piling food on his plate, until he was physically unable to eat another bite.
Eventually, Koromaru got fed up waiting for his evening walk and brought dinner to an end by spitting his leash onto Ken’s lap.
Akihiko did the washing up while Shinji and Fuuka hung out in the kitchen, Fuuka sitting on the counter, Shinji leaning next to her with his sleeves rolled up and his mouth all soft, looking like some very specific fantasies Akihiko was in no particular hurry to admit to.
By the time the dishes were done and Akihiko had taken a bath he was basically dead on his feet, all the travel catching up to him. He muffled yawns through the back-half of the TV show Fuuka and Ken put on, and then he was blinking his eyes open as Shinji shook him gently.
“C’mon, let’s go to bed,” Shinji said, which Akihiko thought sounded pretty good.
Fuuka had the bedroom, and Ken was apparently sleeping on a futon in their little sitting room, which meant that they got the pullout couch. It wasn’t so bad; the mattress squeaked and didn’t feel particularly solid, but it was big enough to fit the two of them without them having to be pretzelled together.
They were anyway; Shinji’s leg sandwiched between Akihiko’s thighs, Akihiko’s hands up the back of Shinji’s shirt, their breath warming the slip of each other’s bare skin above the necks of their shirts, the sheet tangled around them.
“Don’t move so much,” Shinji muttered, his lips tickling the sensitive skin of Akihiko’s throat.
“What?” Akihiko whispered, voice cracking.
Shinji’s hand clamped down, hard, on Akihiko’s hip and he stopped breathing. “The couch is fuckin’ noisy,” Shinji said, softly into Akihiko’s ear. All his cock heard was fuckin’ and gave an enthusiastic throb against Shinji’s thigh.
Akihiko made a garbled noise and buried a hand in Shinji’s hair, pulled him into another kiss. Shinji’s lips parted for him right away and his grip on his hip eased. Akihiko liked that Shinji always let him set the pace when it came to kissing, let him suck, lick, fuck, do whatever he wanted.
He ran his hand down Shinji’s spine, dug his fingers into the soft flesh of his ass and pulled him in snug. Shinji’s body was hot and so solid, every scrap of exposed skin electric against Akihiko’s.
He liked that Shinji was soft in places where once his body had been practically concave, liked that his hair was so long he could grab two big fistfuls of it, liked the way Shinji held him, hard enough to leave bruises behind. Nothing felt so good as being with Shinji.
The kiss began to fall apart. Akihiko was trying to hold still, but the steady pressure against his cock was winding him up. Shinji’s fingers slipped under the waistband of his underwear, teased along his hip and Akihiko jerked forwards, trying to shift Shinji’s fingers lower.
Shinji took a deep breath, then pushed his face against Akihiko’s neck, nose tucked into the hollow of his collarbone. Akihiko felt like he’d just run five kilometres and could run five more; he felt winded and exhilarated all at once.
“Fuck,” he said. “Shinji.”
There was a sudden noise from the hallway and they both froze. Someone’s soft steps, the gentle shh of a door sliding closed.
“Nope,” Shinji said, shoving Akihiko off. “No way.”
“Wait—” Akihiko reached for him and the couch squeaked traitorously. Shinji shot him a horrified look. “Come back.”
“Don’t,” he hissed. Even in the little bit of light coming in from the window, Akihiko could tell that he was blushing. The sight made Akihiko’s chest feel all tight and twisty, like it always did.
“I don’t mean…” Shinji’s brows shot up in disbelief and Akihiko grimaced. Obviously he was aching for it, but he wasn’t an animal. He could control himself. “Just let me hold you.”
Something passed over Shinji’s face and he turned his head to hide it. Akihiko watched his chest rise and fall rapidly, like he was trying to catch his breath. When was the last time he got some decent cardio in?
“No,” Shinji said, strained, then rolled completely onto his side, away from Akihiko. “Goodnight.”
Akihiko flopped onto his back and gloomily contemplated the tent his cock made in the sheet. He was feeling decidedly less positive about the holiday week.
—
Akihiko woke a little before six, boiling hot and urgently needing to piss, with Shinji plastered to his back. His forehead dug into Akihiko’s shoulder, his arm hooked around his side, and his hand formed a loose fist over Akihiko’s heart.
There was a golden feeling unfurling inside Akihiko, that felt like the rays of the sun, or the view from the top of a mountain, or toffee melting on his tongue. He felt unmoored and very, very present in his body at the same time. By that point it was a familiar feeling, but at first it had been nerve-wracking; he’d suspected from the start that it meant surrendering a piece of himself. Usually, it was his ability to string a coherent sentence together.
Shinji shifted, nuzzled into Akihiko’s neck, and Akihiko’s dick woke all the way up.
He spent a couple minutes thinking about what he’d like to do, what he’d done before—move Shinji’s hand down to where he was hard for him, roll over and kiss him, wake him up just enough to get him off then watch him slip back asleep—then slid out from under Shinji’s arm and off the mattress, which released a godawful shriek.
Shinji needed his sleep, and Akihiko could burn off the ache in his gut with a run.
When he got back from his run, sweaty and pleasantly sore, everyone else was up. Fuuka was sitting at the dining table, looking really unimpressed with her laptop, while Ken fussed with the weird coffee pot he liked, and Shinji cooked eggs. He was wearing his apron. Akihiko liked when he wore his apron.
“Good morning, Akihiko,” Ken said. “Did you go for a run? Can I go with you next time?”
“Yeah, of course,” Akihiko said. “You been keeping up with running?”
Ken made a so-so gesture. Shinji turned and barely glanced at him. “Go shower. We’re heading out right after this.”
Akihiko got up in Shinji’s space and peeked over his shoulder at what he had going on the stove; a pot of miso soup, a few fillets of salmon, and a square pan he was deftly rolling eggs in. Akihiko watched him tip the pan, watched the tendons in the back of his hand shift as he rolled the egg mixture. He could feel drool gathering in his mouth, only half from the food.
“No natto?” He asked, digging his chin into Shinji’s shoulder. He barely resisted the urge to put his hands where the ties of the apron cinched Shinji’s waist.
“Get off,” Shinji said, without heat, elbowing him lightly. Akihiko only hummed.
“Euck,” Ken said, from somewhere behind them and Fuuka laughed.
“Here, help me set the table, Ken-kun.”
Akihiko tugged Shinji’s turtleneck down and snuck a kiss right below his ear—open-mouthed and wet—then dodged a second, much faster, elbow. “I’m going, I’m going,” he said, grinning as he backed out of the kitchen.
When he sat at the table ten minutes later, hair still damp from the shower, Shinji slammed a bowl of natto down beside his plate.
The park Fuuka wanted to go to was over an hour away by train, so they headed out early. It was part of a larger conservation area and practically overflowed with flowers in all shades of purple, pink, and white, visible even from the road.
It was crowded around the entrance, but once they got further in the crowd thinned, mostly breaking off into couples posing for pictures in front of curtains of flowers. Akihiko thought about asking Shinji to take a picture, but he wasn’t sure how’d he take it—whether he’d laugh or not. Whether he even meant it as a joke.
The park was laid out so that it seemed larger than it probably was, and it really was pretty. He hadn’t known wisteria came in so many colours, and the structures they’d built were interesting, the way they turned the vines into canopies of flowers. Fuuka seemed to enjoy herself—she took lots of pictures and stopped to read all the little placards—which Akihiko suspected was the entire point of the trip; Shinji followed her closely, like he could will her into a good time through sheer proximity.
Around the midpoint of their walk they hit a little square with booths selling flower-related souvenirs, and a café with a poster out front advertising coffees and snacks in the same colours as the flowers. Fuuka wanted to try the ice cream, Shinji wanted to pay for it, and Ken seemed conflicted about the existence of yuzu-infused iced coffee.
Akihiko spotted an empty bench a little ways away and nabbed it while they got in line for the café. Maybe it was the jet-lag but he felt disoriented, out of it. He kept feeling a jolt when he looked at Shinji, thrilled and surprised to see him, all over again.
It was a nice day, mild and sunny, and it’d been a good idea to go out, even though this wasn’t really Akihiko’s thing. He wasn’t convinced it’d been Fuuka’s idea—he still remembered the way Shinji used to insist on a normal high school experience. Planning a day trip like this sounded like the kinda thing he’d do.
Akihiko cast his gaze around. The bench was just a step off one of the paths, crowded in by hedges and tall, bright flowers. He found a Y-shaped twig at his feet and picked it up, spun it between his fingers.
He glanced towards the café and saw that they’d moved up in line and were now next to one of the booths. As he watched, Fuuka picked up a flower crown on display and held it over Ken’s head, who cringed away. Shinji was covering his mouth like he was coughing, but Akihiko could tell he was laughing.
Akihiko felt himself smile in response, and dropped his gaze to the ground. There were pale pink petals scattered at his feet, dropped from the bushes lining the path, and he bent to collect a few.
Miki would’ve liked this. The cascades of pink and purple wisteria above, the bright sprays of yellow and red flowers lining the paths, the cheerful crowd; she would’ve liked it all.
She’d been into bugs and nature and learning how to french braid. She’d pester Shinji—already bigger than Akihiko—for piggybacks and almost always get them. One day she came back from school excitedly waving around a handout about pollinators, the next with a handful of origami flowers, one for each of the caretakers.
She would’ve insisted on getting a picture with Shinji in front of the flowers, and wouldn't have taken no for an answer.
Over the years, Akihiko had found little ways to show Miki he was thinking of her: He’d pick out the red stones in gravel and arrange them into a simple shape, stomp them into the earth to set it. Or he’d weave long blades of grass into circles and figure-eights, leave them looped around the branches of a tree. Sometimes he’d build a cairn at the turnaround point of his runs, and knock it down to build a new one when he’d pushed the turnaround further. When nothing else was handy he’d tap his ring finger against his palm, pseudo morse code, the kind kids might knock softly against a wall, hoping to reach sympathetic ears; are you there?
Akihiko piled the petals he’d collected onto his leg and started spearing them, one by one, onto each branch of the twig. He took care to space them equally, turning the twig delicately in his hands to avoid crushing them.
They were rituals that became habit, a reflex to dull the pain when remembering her was hard: The day she would’ve graduated high school, or what should’ve been her twentieth birthday. And the everyday stings; stickers of that character she’d liked on a stranger’s phone, a hobbyist shop selling bug nets, the song that had played on the radio all their last summer, piped through the overhead speakers in the grocery store.
“What is it?” Shinji would say, if he were there, if Akihiko weren’t on the total opposite side of the globe. Akihiko could explain—if anyone would get it, it was Shinji—but he never did. It was enough to know that he could. It was enough to know that Shinji cared, too.
When he looked up next, Fuuka had an ice cream cone in hand and the flower crown was balanced precariously on Shinji’s hat. Fuuka was grinning and Ken had a complicated sort of expression on, smiling but like he was trying not to. He said something to Shinji that made him laugh, Akihiko saw the flash of his teeth before he managed to cover it.
The thought came to Akihiko, so sudden and clear it was like someone was speaking into his ear: This is what you’ve been missing.
—
The bathroom door was unlocked, which Akihiko could tell himself was a tacit invitation though it was more likely that Shinji had forgotten to lock it. Akihiko knocked politely as he opened it, just in case.
“Wha—?” Shinji glanced over his shoulder and then did a spectacular double take. “What are you doing?”
Akihiko maintained eye-contact because he wasn’t an animal, but his tongue did flick out, automatically, to wet his lips. “We’ve got the place to ourselves.”
Shinji had made breakfast again—he seemed weirdly determined to, despite the fact that it took him, on average, seventy-five minutes to wake up—after which Fuuka and Ken had both taken Koromaru out for a walk. Akihiko had abandoned the dishes basically the instant the front door closed, keen to take advantage of the small window they’d been given.
The bathroom was divided by a tiled half-wall that supported the tub, gently steaming with water, opposite the wall where the shower head was mounted. Shinji was holding a sudsy loofah and soap bubbles were gliding down his side.
Akihiko gave in and dropped his gaze to the tight muscles of Shinji’s ass and thighs. Rivulets of water streamed down his body, sluicing through suds sliding more leisurely downwards. A hungry ache pulled taut in Akihiko’s gut and he felt his blood rush towards his groin.
“Jesus, Aki,” Shinji groaned, turning towards him which gave Akihiko lots more to take in. Akihiko was fit from constant training, but Shinji was habitually strong; shoulders and arms built up from hauling kegs, legs trim from daily walking. “Those fuckin’ shorts.”
Akihiko was still wearing his running gear from his pre-dawn jog, and he glanced down to see that his shorts were about as effective as a damp tissue at hiding his interest, but was only distracted from Shinji for a split second.
“Off or on?” Akihiko asked, touching a hand to the waistband. He was looking at the thick, dark hair on Shinji’s chest, currently flattened into wobbly lines by the water, so he missed the nuances of whatever face Shinji made before he mastered himself.
“Are you even wearin’ anything under ’em?” Shinji demanded, then before Akihiko could answer; “Come here.”
Akihiko kicked off his slippers and basically leapt into the shower. The water was hotter than he’d prefer, what felt like a degree off of boiling, and it soaked his face and down his front.
Shinji was gripping the loofah hard and staring even harder at Akihiko’s chest, where his white shirt turned translucent under the spray of the shower. His mouth hung open a little. It was obvious that he wasn’t going to say anything any time soon, so Akihiko took the lead and pinned him to the wall with his hips.
All that wet, wonderful skin, bare and begging to be touched. Akihiko gripped Shinji’s waist, slid one hand down to dig into the muscle of his thigh, ran the other up to cup his pec.
Shinji shuddered so violently he nearly knocked Akihiko off, then dropped the loofah and gripped Akihiko’s biceps hard. “Aki,” he said, like it was wrenched out of him.
Akihiko rolled his hips, grinding his cock up against the apex of Shinji’s thighs through his soggy running shorts. Shinji made an incredible noise, low and guttural, then released Akihiko’s arms and grabbed his ass instead.
An appreciative noise escaped Akihiko and he rolled his hips again, savouring the hot flush of pleasure that ignited at the friction against his cock.
“You—you ain’t wearin’—” Shinji sounded incredulous and almost pained. Akihiko felt his fingers bite into the crease where his ass met his thigh.
Something in the way he said it made Akihiko a little defensive. “I don’t need to, they have a thing, this netting—”
Shinji made a noise weirdly close to a sob. “Stop talkin’.”
Well, that was rude. Akihiko pulled away to give him shit, but Shinji’s head was tipped back against the wall, his eyes closed. His fingers inched higher, rucking up the soaked fabric of Akihiko’s shorts.
He looked good. When did he ever not? His hair was wet and slicked back, and water misted in his brows, ran down the arch of his nose, dripped off his chin. Akihiko’s cock throbbed and Shinji made a soft noise, an almost-moan.
Akihiko squeezed Shinji’s chest reflexively, then ran his thumb across the scar that hooked below his pec. Shinji shuddered and his fingers dug into Akihiko’s ass, lifting him onto his toes. Akihiko wasn’t gonna ignore an invitation like that; he closed the distance to kiss Shinji.
It shouldn’t have still felt like careening wildly out of control, but every time they kissed it was like Akihiko’s blood turned to lightning. The slick heat of Shinji’s mouth, the buck of his hips, the soft, gasping noises that escaped him, it all drove Akihiko past language, past reason, to a sort of primal insanity.
That was his excuse anyway.
Akihiko pulled Shinji off the wall, trying to get closer, touch more of him, no thought behind the movement, only greed. Shinji came willingly, more easily than Akihiko had expected, and it set him off balance.
Akihiko slipped on the wet tile and tipped weirdly thanks to Shinji’s grip on his ass. Shinji released him to try to grab his arm and instead sent Akihiko flailing backwards.
Time seemed to slow, as it tended to in those kinds of moments, so that Akihiko not only had the chance to think goddammit but to see from Shinji’s expression that he was thinking the exact same thing. Then pain exploded through his skull.
The intake nurse had fluffy brown hair shot through with grey and a big, cheerful smile that Akihiko saw a lot of as she joked with the other nurse behind the desk. She was amused by his injury and when Akihiko was only embarrassed, not offended, laughed openly.
“A bit young for a slip in the tub, eh?” She said, recording his birthdate and appraising him over the rim of her glasses. Akihiko felt himself blush.
“How young?” The other nurse asked, grinning. “Her daughter’s single you know!”
“Oh I—I’m not,” Akihiko said, a beat too slow. Both nurses laughed again, not unkindly.
Shinji was out in the waiting room, slouched back on one of the hard plastic chairs, arms folded across his chest. His hair was drying into soft almost-curls, the ends flipping up to lick at his jaw. When he saw Akihiko his brows rose in a wordless question.
“Might need a couple stitches,” Akihiko said, falling into the chair beside him. “But the nurses didn’t seem worried.” He didn’t think the fact that they’d laughed at him was relevant.
Shinji snorted. “Good thing your skull’s so thick.”
“Ha, ha.”
Shinji jostled their knees together lightly. He was way less angry than Akihiko would’ve expected. At first, he’d torn apart the bathroom looking for the first aid kit, and made a big fuss about the blood, but now he seemed almost amused. Maybe it was because Akihiko’s pride was obviously much more bruised than his head; he didn’t think he’d stopped blushing since he’d come up bleeding.
Before they’d left, Akihiko had changed into dry sweats and Shinji had thrown on jeans, the turtleneck he’d worn the day before, and his jacket. The corner of Akihiko’s brain that was constantly tuned to thoughts about Shinji worried that the air conditioning was too cold for him.
Shinji shifted and fished his phone from his pocket, put it to his ear and said, “Hey Mitsuru, what’s up?” He made a particular face, exasperated but attentive, that he only made around her and Akihiko smiled reflexively. “We checked in a minute ago, how’d the hell you already know?” Shinji raised a brow at Akihiko, almost-smiling, then froze. “Whaddya mean? His what—?”
Ah, shit. Shinji turned to face Akihiko fully, his brows pulling together, a scowl beginning to form. To Mitsuru, he said, “Start from the top.”
“Sanada-san?” A nurse called out and Akihiko jumped at the escape offered.
The doctor peeled off the bandages and inspected the cut, dabbing almost absently at the trickle of blood down his temple. She shone a light in his eyes, and hit him with a barrage of questions before declaring it unlikely that he had a concussion. Akihiko had the cut on his temple washed then glued shut, and a nurse handed him care instructions on a small square of cardstock.
“Now, any pain in your side?” The doctor asked, snapping on a fresh pair of gloves and picking up a stethoscope.
“None,” Akihiko answered honestly. “I’ve been keeping up with the breathing exercises.”
The doctor nodded, then pressed the cool metal stethoscope to Akihiko’s chest, back, and side, prompting him to breathe deep each time. “Sounds good. You should be on track to full recovery in a couple weeks. Any questions?”
Akihiko thumbed the cardstock, then shook his head.
Shinji was still in the waiting room, which was surprising, but when he saw Akihiko he stood and headed outside, which wasn’t. Akihiko sighed and trailed after him.
It was cloudy and mild outside, and the wind blew the smell of recent rain into Akihiko’s face. Shinji dodged an elderly couple getting into a cab then cut across the laneway. His shoulders were practically touching his ears and the wind made a mess of his hair; he’d forgotten his hat at home in his hurry to get Akihiko out the door.
Once they were clear of the parking lot, Shinji whirled around. He didn’t look furious; he just looked tired, which was honestly worse.
“Why didn’t you tell me?” Shinji spoke in a low, controlled tone that implied shouting would follow if Akihiko made a wrong move.
“It’s just a bruised rib,” he tried, anyway.
Shinji’s head jerked in a sharp, aborted movement. Akihiko could tell that his hands, stuck into the pockets of his jacket, had balled into fists. What did it say about Akihiko that right then even the thought of Shinji punching him in the face was kind of a turn-on? “Answer the damn question.”
Akihiko ran a hand over his hair, back to front. “Because you were gonna—act like this.”
“Jesus, Aki,” Shinji said. “I’m not pissed that you’re injured. I’m pissed I had to find out from someone else.”
Akihiko didn’t flinch, but it was a close call. Okay, so maybe he’d messed up. In all honesty, he’d spent probably hours with their chat open on his phone, stalled out with his thumbs hovering over the screen. He couldn’t figure out how to say it right, so he ended up saying nothing at all.
“I’m sorry, okay? I didn’t want to worry you.”
“I’m gonna worry anyway,” Shinji retorted immediately, then snapped his mouth shut and ground his teeth together. After a moment he continued, in a tone that suggested what he was saying should be obvious, “I’ll worry more if I think you ain’t telling me important shit.”
“It really isn’t—okay, okay.” Akihiko lifted his hands in surrender to the look on Shinji’s face. “That’s fair. I get it. I’m sorry.”
Shinji’s expression didn’t change, but Akihiko could tell he was softening towards him.
“I got hurt…” He tried to count back the days; had he lost a day or gained one when he flew back? Whatever, it didn’t matter. “A couple weeks ago in a match. The on-site medic cleared me, but when I was still sore a couple days later I saw a doctor, and he said it was a bruised rib. There’s nothing for it except rest, so I came home.”
Shinji had pulled several extraordinary faces while Akihiko spoke but finally settled on a strained expression. Of the two of them, he was the one who looked like he was in pain.
“Just look—” Akihiko lifted his shirt and Shinji jerked uncertainly towards him, hands dropping out of his pockets. “The bruising is basically gone.”
Shinji stepped in close and laid his hand over Akihiko’s ribs. His skin was cool and sent a wave of goosebumps rippling across Akihiko’s side. “Does it hurt?”
Something about the way Shinji spoke made Akihiko’s face go hot. “No.” He looked into Shinji’s eyes. “Not anymore.”
Shinji tipped his head to the side and back, exaggerating the difference in their heights. He hadn’t had a chance to shave, and his patchy stubble caught the light. Akihiko felt an overpowering, irrational urge to trace his tongue along his jaw.
“Should you be runnin’ right now?” Shinji asked.
Akihiko, trying and failing to master the urge to lick, could only say, “Um.”
Shinji stepped back and Akihiko, after a weird pause, remembered to lower his shirt. Shinji looked exasperated, which was one of his hottest expressions. Or maybe that wasn’t true and Akihiko’s brain was just oxygen-starved because he’d had a low-grade boner for over twenty hours.
“You’re a fuckin’ idiot,” Shinji said, but he wasn’t angry anymore. Privately, Akihiko worried that he might be right.
—
“God—shit.” Shinji’s voice was a low rasp, his breath warm on Akihiko’s skin. “Aki.”
Akihiko rumbled in agreement, twisting his hold on Shinji’s wrist and digging his thumb into the meat of his palm. Their bodies slotted so perfectly together it brought something dumb and primal in his brain stem roaring to life.
They’d eaten lunch with Fuuka basically by accident, coincidentally returning to the apartment at the same time, Shinji back from a work errand with a big bag of takeout. Akihiko knew Shinji didn’t like the beef bowl place where he worked, but the food really was good. They talked about nothing in particular as they ate, and sure, the apartment was crowded, but Akihiko had to admit he liked how lively their meals were. It was kinda nostalgic.
Ken was still out at soccer practice, so Shinji stuck his portion in the fridge. Fuuka had to run to catch the train for some meeting or another, which left Shinji and Akihiko all alone in the apartment.
Akihiko had washed the dishes while Shinji dried, and… Well, one thing led to another and suddenly Akihiko had Shinji pinned to the fridge with soapy hands, kissing him like he was gonna die without it.
Akihiko liked to consider himself overall levelheaded, and he prided himself on his mastery of his body. But Shinji was wearing a loose sweater with an overstretched neck that left his collarbone exposed and it was driving Akihiko into the grips of total insanity. As, he assumed, it would anyone with eyes and a heartbeat.
Shinji’s breath was hot on his face, his mouth soft and yielding beneath his own. His wrists twisted in Akihiko’s grip but he wasn’t trying to escape, not really.
Akihiko could lose himself kissing Shinji. It turned him on so much the way Shinji tasted, the way he smelled, the way he couldn’t quite muffle the little moans he made when Akihiko sucked on his tongue.
Shinji’s hips pushed into him and Akihiko responded with his whole body, pinning him firmly to the fridge. Shinji broke the kiss with a quiet, emphatic fuck and Akihiko kissed his jaw instead, found his pulse hammering beneath the scruff on his throat and bit down. Shinji bucked against him, forcing Akihiko’s legs apart around his thigh.
“Jesus,” Shinji rasped, then caught his breath. “How are you so hard?”
Embarrassment washed over Akihiko and cracked open some hot, twisty feeling deep in his gut. Face burning, he broke away and said, “Shut up, it’s your fault.”
“My fault?” Shinji repeated, incredulous.
Akihiko released one of Shinji’s wrists to cup his face, and pressed his thumb to Shinij’s wet bottom lip until his mouth fell open. Transfixed by the pink of his tongue, Akihiko muttered, “You have no idea what you do to me.”
Shinji grabbed Akihiko’s hair and yanked his head back. Bright sparks of pain melted almost instantly into pleasure and Akihiko had to force his eyes to stay open. In a low voice, Shinji said, “You’re a fuckin’ idiot if you really think that.”
His eyes were so dark and hungry, just looking at him made Akihiko ache. He pushed his thumb into Shinji’s mouth and his lashes fluttered, his tongue moved beneath the pad of his thumb. Akihiko felt it with his whole body; a heady lurch below his navel, an electric current beneath his skin. If he didn’t get off right then he was going to die.
He heard a jangling sound and a heavy click from far away, and some small scrap of sanity in a back corner of his brain told him he knew that sound, that sound was important.
Shinji figured it out first; he flung Akihiko away so hard he hit the opposite counter. More distant sounds: the shush of an opening door, the click of nails on the floor.
“Oh, come on!” Akihiko hissed. Shinji left the kitchen entirely, but where exactly he planned to hide in their small apartment—which seemed to be getting smaller by the day—was a mystery.
“We’re back!” Ken called from the front hall. Akihiko heard Shinji reply perfunctorily.
Taking slow, deep breaths, Akihiko returned to the sink. He fished a plate out of the sudsy water and scrubbed it until he was positive he wasn't hard and wasn’t at risk of instantly getting hard again.
By the time he finished, the water had gone cold.
—
Akihiko woke slowly, drifting easily between dreams, a warm pressure curling in his gut. Without opening his eyes he could tell it was early, and he wasn’t in a rush. He shifted, buried his face in Shinji’s hair and felt Shinjiro press back against him.
He’d missed this while he was away; the twist of the sheet around their legs, Shinji’s hair tickling his nose. More times than Akihiko could count he’d been lulled back to sleep after his alarm sounded by the warm, heavy weight of Shinji’s body against him.
He had one arm around Shinji, the other squashed between them, and Shinji was squirming, or, no, he was rocking his hips, just a little, rubbing against Akihiko.
All of a sudden, Akihiko was completely awake.
He was also fully hard. His cock, trapped in his sleep pants, was wedged perfectly into the cleft of Shinji’s ass. Shinji ground back against him again, and pleasure bubbled up in Akihiko’s navel. He tightened his arm around Shinji and felt more than heard his heavy exhale, his ribs lifting and falling.
Akihiko’s breath escaped him on a low moan, and Shinji froze, ass pressed flush to his near painful erection. Akihiko burrowed through his hair to find a patch of warm skin on the back of Shinji’s neck and kissed him there.
“Aki,” Shinji said, warningly, like he was somehow innocent in this. His voice was rough with sleep and went straight to Akihiko’s cock, throbbing hopefully between them. “We can’t.”
Akihiko knew he was right; he could hear the shower running in the bathroom, so someone else was already up. He’d finally beaten the jetlag, it seemed, and managed to sleep through sunrise.
“We could…book a love hotel?” Akihiko suggested, quietly. His hips shifted a little, entirely of their own volition. He was so, so close, he could barely think around it.
Shinji pulled away. “No.”
“Yeah, I thought so.” He didn’t really want to either. He rolled onto his back and braced himself for the gut punch that was sure to come when his body realized he wasn’t getting any relief.
Shinji rolled over to watch him, his eyes lidded, his face flushed. He was barely awake, blinking slowly at him, like some sort of drugged-up cat. A square of pale, early morning sun lit his face, picking out bright strands of almost-gold in the rats nest of his hair.
And why the hell was that a turn on? Shinj wasn’t doing anything sexy. God knows if Akihiko found being sleepy a turn-on he would’ve had a hell of time in middle school, sitting behind Shinji in class. It was like there were crossed wires in his body, and any surge of affection went straight to his dick.
Akihiko felt a twinge low in his abdomen, then a painful ache lower still, and took a deep, steadying breath. Shinji’s eyes had slid closed. He was back asleep already.
An acid surge of frustration rose in Akihiko's chest and he swallowed it down. He refused to lose. If Shinji was unbothered, then so was he.
He crawled out of bed. A run sounded like just what he needed.
—
Akihiko knew himself; once he had an objective in mind he was like an arrow loosed, singular in his focus. And like an arrow, he was not particularly good at swerving around obstacles.
What he wanted was Shinji, beneath him, above him, he honestly wasn’t too picky. He wanted him naked and flushed and making that face Akihiko loved so much, when he felt good but was shy about showing it. He wanted to fuck him until he was too pleasure-struck to hide it.
Golden Week was almost over, but Fuuka was staying indefinitely—at this rate probably until the end of term—and with each passing day, Akihiko could feel himself becoming stupider and stupider.
It didn’t help that Shinji was so—himself, all the damn time. He cooked Akihiko’s favourite foods, and snarled at him for not properly rinsing protein powder out of his glasses, and when they were on the couch watching TV, he’d lay his hand across the nape of Akihiko’s neck, trace soothing circles against his skin with his thumb.
All this plus the simple, undeniable fact that Shinji was stupidly hot—strong hands, low voice, dark licks of hair barely visible down the front of his shirt, or disappearing past the waistline of his jeans—meant Akihiko was barely keeping it together.
He could get hard just thinking about Shinji and now that he was around him all the time—after months apart—he was supposed to do what, exactly? Remain somehow chaste and sane at the same time?
That afternoon, he made good on his promise to go for a run with Ken. The sun was at its highest, with only a few wisps of clouds and sporadic trees along the sidewalk offering relief from the heat. But they jogged slowly, slow enough that they could talk. It was a good way to build up endurance, as he told Ken.
Shinji had pointed out once that all he and Ken talked about was training, but Akihiko didn’t know what else there was to talk about. He wasn’t sure if Ken had a goal he was working towards, besides graduating, so they discussed small goals; distances to run, weights to lift. He thought if they could come up with enough it might satisfy Ken, for the moment anyway. He knew what it was like to have drive but lack direction.
When Ken described soccer practice or his spear drills, Akihiko could measure, by his progress and his tone, frustration or satisfaction. He could try to figure out what Ken needed without him having to ask for it.
They walked the last couple blocks home, dripping with sweat and zigzagging a bit; Akihiko’s legs, at least, were rubbery and weak. Ken insisted on ducking into a convenience store on the corner of their street and buying them popsicles. It was so hot that Akihiko didn’t think of refusing.
Akihiko’s was cherry flavoured and almost eye-searingly red, which would probably stain his skin in seconds. Too sweet, but the cold was such a relief he didn’t even mind.
The single flight of stairs up to their apartment threatened to take Akihiko out at the knees. So maybe two runs in one day was a bit much, but as long as he didn’t keel over it was all good.
Ken shouldered open their front door and called, “We’re home.”
“Welcome back,” Shinji replied from the kitchen as Koromaru padded down the hall to greet them. Ken kicked off his shoes and nudged them into line, then patted Koromaru hello.
“Are you cooking again?” Ken asked, walking down the hall to check.
“No,” Shinji said, then something Akihiko didn’t catch. He toed off his shoes and scratched Koromaru behind his ear with his free hand, before dragging his tired body to the dining table and collapsing into one of the chairs.
Akihiko pulled up a map on his phone to find their turnaround point. After a minute Ken fell into the chair across from him with a sigh. “You want the bath first?”
Akihiko shook his head. “No, you go ahead. Here—” He pushed the phone across the table to show Ken the map. “That’s, what, seven kilometres, easy.”
Ken took a bite out of his popsicle as he picked it up. “Okay, but it took us like, an hour.”
“Next time you’ll be faster,” Akihiko said, confidently. “You do wind-sprints and interval training for soccer right? That’s where you’ll build up your speed the fastest.”
“You two had better be planning on showering,” Shinji said, appearing in the doorway.
He was wearing his apron, which Akihiko had always liked a little more than he should, and had a smear of flour across one cheekbone. Their eyes met and a bolt of electricity shot down Akihiko’s spine. Shinji looked away first, sipping from the glass of water he was holding.
“Yeah, yeah,” Akihiko said, trying to sound normal. “Hey, you should come with us next time.”
Shinji shot him a dirty look for no good reason at all.
“You’d make a good coach,” Ken said, ignoring, as he usually did, their exchange. He slid Akihiko’s phone back across the table and took another bite of his popsicle.
“You think?” Akihiko said, surprised.
“Sure, why not?” Ken said, pinching the front of his shirt with one hand to fan himself with it. He was trying to play it cool but he was smiling.
Akihiko sat back. He had enjoyed working with his team back in high school, how they drove him further, how he’d been able to push them hard. And he did like running with Ken, though that was probably more because they had fun hanging out.
“Watch it, you’re dripping,” Ken said abruptly.
Akihiko startled back to himself; his popsicle was melting fast, and had dribbled a long trail of juice down his hand and wrist. He ran his tongue up his hand and the length of the popsicle, tipping his head back to prevent any more drops from falling, then slurped it into his mouth.
There was the sound of glass shattering.
Shinji stood with his hand clenched around nothing, his glass in shards at his feet, and a look on his face like he was in a waking nightmare.
“Shinjiro!” Ken yelped, startled onto his feet.
“Oh, shit.” Akihiko dropped the popsicle onto the table and jumped up. “Are you hurt?”
Shinji looked down at his hand blankly. Softly, fervently, he said, “Fuck.”
Back at urgent care for the second time that week, Akihiko wasn’t too surprised when his phone rang with a call from Mitsuru.
“What is going on with you two?” She demanded, immediately cutting to the point.
Shinji sat beside him, a wad of gauze taped to his hand, glaring mutinously into the middle distance. He’d refused to speak to Akihiko after he’d insisted on accompanying him. Akihiko wasn’t sure what his problem was, but he was being an ass about it.
Sighing, he told Mitsuru, “Don’t ask me.”
In the evening Ken was headed back to his dorm and Shinji had prepped a going away dinner that he begrudgingly handed off to Fuuka to finish. The cuts on his hand were only superficial, but Akihiko enjoyed pestering him to rest. See how he liked being mother-hen’d.
While Fuuka flustered over everything in the kitchen, and Shinji hovered like an avenging spirit, Akihiko and Ken steered well clear. They went out onto the balcony, which was small and made smaller by Fuuka’s transplanted garden, so they had to squeeze in between the tomato plants and the drying rack.
Ken was talking about his new school year, how the teachers were all hyping up the importance of their entrance exams, and not-talking about how bored he was. Akihiko was listening and trying to think of the right thing to say. What was there to say? Ken obviously thought going to school was kind of a waste of time, and Akihiko couldn’t blame him, even though he disagreed. He wondered for the first time what the hell Shinji and Ken talked about if it wasn’t training.
“Dinner’s ready!” Fuuka poked her head out through the sliding door. “Sorry for the wait.”
It was another small feast; Ken seemed touched by the effort, and they talked for a long time, drawing the meal out longer and longer. For dessert, Shinji had made a bunch of those colourful little cakes he seemed so fond of, and Ken brewed decaf espresso to go with them.
Afterwards, long after dark, Shinji walked Ken and Koromaru to the station, and Akihiko washed the dishes, while Fuuka packed up the leftovers.
“It was nice to spend so much time with Ken-kun,” she was saying, scraping food into a tupperware. “Will you still be in town next month for his birthday? I think Shinjiro-san’s planning something.”
Akihiko was actually scheduled to fly out the week before, which he felt a little bad about. Instead of answering, he said, “What’re your plans for the rest of the summer?”
“Oh, you mean since the internship isn’t happening?” Fuuka started clicking lids onto the containers. “I’m taking a summer course, instead.”
He could hear Fuuka open the fridge and shift things around, but kept his eyes on the pan he was scrubbing. “What days do you meet?”
“Wednesdays and Fridays.” Fuuka came up beside him and pulled the dish towel off its hook. She shot him a curious look. “Why do you ask?”
Akihiko said, “Okay, hear me out.”
—
Akihiko was still in the shower when he heard the front door open; he’d lost track of time. He slid his soapy fingers free and fumbled for the valve as he heard Shinji say, “I’m home.”
“Welcome back!” He called, grabbing his towel off the rack and starting to dry off. “Do you want the bath?”
“Nah, I showered at the gym.” He heard Shinji walking down the hall as he scrubbed the towel over his hair. “Where’s Fuuka?”
“Out.”
Akihiko dressed quickly—there wasn’t a lot to put on, he’d only brought a sweatshirt and fresh underwear into the bathroom. He glanced in the mirror; the bruise on his temple was still livid purple, but there wasn’t anything to do about that.
Shinji was already in the kitchen. He was wearing his work pants and one of his eight black turtlenecks, his hair a little damp and hanging into his eyes. “What’s all this?” He asked, looking at the stove.
“Dinner.” Akihiko stopped in the doorway. “If you want it.”
Shinji turned to him. His face went through so many different expressions so quickly Akihiko nearly got whiplash. An expression of agony was the one that stuck. Akihiko had literally seen Shinji face down death with more composure than he was looking at him then.
In a thin, brittle voice, Shinji asked again, “Where’s Fuuka?”
“Atami.”
Shinji’s mouth moved silently for a moment. He was having a lot of trouble looking anywhere but Akihiko’s legs. “Atami?”
Akihiko grinned. “For an overnight trip to the hot springs.”
Shinji dragged his eyes slowly upwards, Akihiko saw him clock that he was wearing one of Shinji’s own sweatshirts, and finally met Akihiko’s eyes. He looked ravenous.
“I made dinner,” Akihiko said, coming into the kitchen. “Katsudon.”
Shinji wet his lips. “Atami, huh.” Akihiko nodded. “Did you pay for the trip?”
“Yeah.”
Shinji made the face that he made when he was trying not to smile. It was a good face, though Akihiko hadn’t always thought that. He liked it more now that Shinji actually let himself smile often. “Well, you’d better get your money’s worth then, huh?”
Akihiko was on him almost before he finished speaking, which meant his mouth was still half-open, which meant Akihiko could start tongue fucking him immediately.
Shinji shuddered in that way Akihiko liked—top to bottom, like he couldn’t contain how good he felt—and grabbed him by the hips to pull their bodies flush.
It felt so good to get his hands on Shinji. He could practically feel his brain cells dying as all the blood drained from his head and went straight to his cock.
Shinji pushed Akihiko backwards, then abruptly spun him around, breaking the kiss, and pressed him up against the counter. Akihiko’s hands flew out to grip the edge, just catching himself before it would’ve hit his hips.
Shinj bullied in closer, ground up against Akihiko’s ass, and pushed a hand up inside his sweatshirt to grope at his chest. Akihiko’s breath exploded out of him.
“You.” Shinji found Akihiko’s nipple and pinched. “Have been—” he ran his other hand around Akihiko’s hip to cup him through his briefs. “—driving me—” he ground his palm against Akihiko’s cock, “crazy.”
Akihiko swayed forwards with a strangled cry, sparks popping all down his spine. He managed to lock his elbows and pushed his ass back into Shinji. “Yes,” he said, nonsensically. “Yes. Shinji.”
Shinji began working him through his briefs, squeezing and rubbing, and Akihiko could feel himself leaking already, could feel his cock pulsing hot against his hand. Shinji pressed the pad of his thumb to the head and Akihiko shuddered helplessly.
Hot, tight pressure was building in his gut, his heart was pounding in his mouth, shit, he loved when Shinji used his size against him. He loved when Shinji took control.
He felt a touch on the back of his ear, then a sharp, sudden pain as Shinji bit him.
Startled, Akihiko made a noise like “Ackngh—” and tried to press into both of Shinji’s hands at the same time. Shinji released his ear and licked it then pinched his nipple again, hard. “Oh god,” Akihiko wheezed.
“What are you fuckin’ wearin’,” Shinji said, sounding agonized again.
Akihiko said, “Wha—?”
“You look…” Shinji seemed to be struggling to find the words and was taking it out on Akihiko’s nipple. This time Akihiko didn’t say anything, waiting breathlessly for Shinji to continue. Shinji never talked much during sex, but Akihiko suspected there was a vein of untapped filth running through his mind that he really, really, wanted to hear.
But instead of finishing his sentence, Shinji slid both hands to Akihiko’s hips, leaned back, and ground against his ass. Akihiko made another involuntary noise.
Shinji hooked his fingers into Akihiko’s briefs and stepped back to slide them down. The back of Akihiko’s neck prickled from the feeling of Shinji’s eyes on him.
Then Shinji was on his knees, his face pressed to the back of Akihiko’s thigh. He could feel Shinji’s fingers, dimpling his legs with the force of his grip, his breath warm against his skin.
Shinji opened his mouth and pressed hot, lingering kisses to the back of his thigh, then dragged his mouth up to suck at the crease where Akihiko’s leg met his ass.
“You gonna bite me again?” Akihiko asked. With his head dropped forwards he could see parts of Shinji behind his legs; the black of his turtleneck, his knees on the tile.
“So what if I did?” Shinji shot back, in a way that meant you liked it. Then he grabbed his ass and pulled his cheeks apart. Akihiko felt himself flush all over.
Shinji ran his finger down the cleft, pausing over his hole. Could he tell Akihiko had stretched himself a little in the shower? Should he say something? Akihiko felt warm air against the sensitive skin and shuddered.
Shinji’s finger disappeared and then Akihiko felt wet heat run between his cheeks instead—Shinji’s tongue?
“Oh god.” Akihiko’s voice came out choked and thick. “Shinji, that’s—nnh!” Shinji did it again, cutting him off. Akihiko’s face was burning, he couldn’t believe Shinji was—
Shinji licked again, more forcefully, his tongue lingering, probing, and Akihiko’s hips jumped. Shinji’s grip on him tightened and he felt heat, pressure as Shinji’s tongue pushed into him. Akihiko jerked, involuntarily.
Shinji pulled away and said, “Hold still,” dismissively, like Akihiko was fidgeting during a movie not—Akihiko whimpered. It wasn’t a noise he usually made and he could feel the amusement radiating off of Shinji as he pressed back in.
It was—it was filthy. He could feel Shinji’s lips against him, his tongue inside him, spit running down his skin, and it all felt so good Akihiko thought he was going to lose his mind.
Akihiko’s arms gave out and he went down onto his elbows, head hanging low. He was so hard he couldn’t think past it anymore; he could feel himself dripping, his cock bobbing between his legs.
A hot buzz of static rolled through his body and left him trembling. His hips rocked again, seeking friction on his cock, pressing back to meet Shinji’s mouth.
His legs began to tremble and Shinji pulled away, muttered, “Fuck,” then did bite Akihiko, hard, on the back of his thigh.
Akihiko’s whole body spasmed, his cock pulsed, and a desperate, injured noise escaped him.
“Shinji,” he said, his voice cracking. There was nothing else he could even think.
Shinji mumbled something that might’ve been I’ve got you, and then his mouth was back on him; hot, wet pressure, fucking him open.
It was too much; every lick of Shinji’s tongue sent shockwaves through his body. He wanted it to be over, he never wanted Shinji to stop. He wanted more.
Akihiko’s chest hit the counter as both of his hands shot between his legs. He wrapped his fist around his cock and pulled once and that was all it took; his orgasm crashed into him.
Waves of pleasure rolled through his body as his cock pulsed over and over and over. He wheezed for air as the peak drew out for ages, stranding him in some hazy place where he couldn’t perceive anything outside his body.
He did manage to cup his free hand around his cock to minimize the mess, but could hardly do any more since his muscles seemed to be liquifying. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d felt so good, and then he could; it’d been with Shinji, obviously.
Shinji pulled away with a lingering suck that nearly took Akihiko out at the knees. He was vaguely aware of the low, pained noise he made.
“You’re crazy,” Akihiko said, in a hoarse voice.
“Shuddup.” Shinji slapped his ass and stood. Akihiko, face smushed to the countertop, hands sticky with cum, whimpered. Again.
Shinji grabbed a fresh cloth, wet it in the sink and dropped it in front of Akihiko’s nose. He poured them both glasses of water and sipped his as Akihiko slowly trembled back together. He felt lightheaded and his nerves were still crackling, but what was harder to deal with was the way he felt scalded all over, mortified.
At last, Akihiko pulled himself upright, wiped his hands and drank his water, not able to even look at Shinji. He couldn’t believe Shinji had done that and didn’t even seem embarrassed.
Akihiko shook his head, trying to clear it. He could feel Shinji’s attention on him and it drummed up heat beneath his skin.
He’d been planning to go about this the right way; they were meant to eat the dinner he’d made first, get each other off after. It went without saying that he had every intention of wringing Shinji dry but that was meant to come after. He wasn’t an animal.
But they could start over, sort of. The food was probably still hot. At the same time as Akihiko said, “Why don’t we—” Shinji said, “You cooked for me.”
They looked at each other. Shinji’s mouth was red and swollen, his face flushed, his eyes dark. He still looked so fucking hungry.
Akihiko made a split decision and kicked his briefs off his foot. “Where’s your kit?”
Shinji’s mouth went slack as his eyes slid down to Akihiko’s legs. “I’ll get it.” He paused, seemed to master some instinct, and looked him in the eye again. “We ain’t fuckin’ in here.”
It felt like they were passed that, but sure. “Couch?”
Shinji nodded. Just as Akihiko began to turn, Shinji’s arm snapped out and he snagged the front of Akihiko’s sweatshirt, yanking him into a brief, fierce kiss. When he was released, Akihiko didn’t go anywhere. Shinji’s lips tickled the corner of his mouth as he said, “Don’t take this off.”
Akihiko felt a jolt go through him. “Okay.”
With one last, meaningful look, Shinji ducked into the bathroom, shutting the door firmly behind him. Akihiko put his glass in the sink and inched past the dining table to stand in front of the couch. The hem of Shinji’s sweatshirt just brushed the base of his cock, which made him very aware of the fact that he was half-naked.
He shook out the duvet and laid it over the couch; it didn’t seem worthwhile to set up the bed, since it shrieked like murder just when one of them rolled over. Then he stood a moment, thinking that, for whatever reason, he felt more awkward half-dressed than he would’ve naked. He didn’t understand Shinji’s insistence that he keep the sweatshirt on. For one, he’d really worked on building up his shoulders and chest, while his legs were strong, but no different than they’d been a year ago.
Akihiko stood in the middle of the room and considered his thighs. Should he focus more on lower-body workouts?
He heard the bathroom door slide open and turned just as Shinji stepped into the doorway, naked but for the harness secure around his hips.
A thrill went through Akihiko. God. The strength of Shinji’s shoulders, the hair on his chest and licking up from below his navel, the faint glint of scar tissue; Shinji’s body always thrilled him. But he especially liked when Shinji was wearing the harness. It was a little Pavlovian; his body knew he was gonna get fucked. But he also liked the stark black of the straps against Shinji’s skin, the way they dug in just a little to the soft flesh of his hips.
The fact was, Shinji looked good. Really, really good.
Shinji was saying something rude about how Akihiko had set up the couch, but he wasn’t listening. His eyes were on the cock, jutting out from between Shinji’s legs, his own cock waking back up a little painfully.
Akihiko crossed the room and kissed Shinji, quick and hard, then dragged his lips down his jaw to kiss his throat, dig his teeth into the join of his shoulder. Shinji tipped his head to let him, settling his hands on Akihiko’s hips, just at the hem of the sweatshirt.
“You look…good,” Akihiko said, softly against Shinji’s shoulder. He drew his hands up Shinji’s sides to thumb at his scars and Shinji shivered.
“Aki…” Shinji said, like a warning, which Akihiko ignored. Still running his thumb across the scar beneath his pec with one hand, he slid the other down between them to wrap around the smooth silicone cock. The heft of it was familiar and he groaned softly. Finally, finally, finally.
Akihiko sank to his knees, kissed Shinji’s stomach, the soft skin dimpled by the harness, then dragged his lips down the length of his cock and looked up.
Shinji was staring down at him, a faint furrow between his brows. Following some nameless impulse, Akihiko took the cock into his mouth.
It didn’t taste of anything, but smelled a little like soap. He pushed forwards until he felt the head hit the back of his throat, until his nose brushed Shinji’s skin and all he could smell was Shinji’s sweat, his musk. It was a smell that drilled down to Akihiko’s core and made his cock jump. He began to bob his head slowly, getting the length wet enough that it slid easily past his lips.
He fell into a rhythm, fast and shallow. It strained his jaw, just a little, and stoked the heat simmering low in his belly. He could feel a moan gathering at the base of his throat.
Shinji grabbed Akihiko’s hair at the crown of his head and pulled him back until only the very tip of the cock was between his lips, shining with his spit. Akihiko looked up at Shinji’s face and his breath caught with a weak groan.
Shinji was staring down at Akihiko’s mouth like the answers to every question he’d ever asked were inside. Akihiko saw something pass over his face, click into place, then Shinji was pushing his cock into his mouth, all the way, until Akihiko gagged, tried to cough around it and only choked. Shinji held him there a moment longer, then released him.
Akihiko pulled off, spluttering. How long had that been four seconds, five? Next time he’d hold it longer.
“Aki.” Shinji groaned his name, then pushed his hand through Akihiko’s hair, tipping his head back so their eyes met. Shinji was dark-eyed and flushed, Akihiko could see his pulse rabbiting in his throat.
“You’re close,” Akihiko said, a little shocked. His voice came out wrecked and startled them both; Akihiko coughed to clear his throat and Shinji slammed his eyes closed, like he was trying to calm down.
Well, that wasn’t what Akihiko wanted. His hands went to the waist of the harness and with a few clumsy yanks he’d loosened it enough to pull it down and dove forwards.
Shinji was close; Akihiko could feel his thighs tremble, could taste it in his mouth. Akihiko couldn’t see any reason to drag things out, so he went all in; sucked and licked and crept one hand down the cleft of Shinji’s ass to tease at the tight muscle of his hole. Shinji made a choked-off sound and cupped the back of Akihiko’s head, pressed forward to meet him.
When he glanced up, he saw that Shinji’s head was tipped back so far that all that was visible was the underside of his chin. He wondered if he was imagining Akihiko still sucking his cock. Akihiko was. It’d been a bit of a challenge, the way it stretched his jaw, the weight of it on the back of his tongue. Akihiko always enjoyed a challenge.
With a low, garbled noise Shinji’s hips jerked forward and his hand pressed Akihiko in flush. Akihiko moaned as he felt Shinji come, felt the pulse of it on his tongue go on and on and on, as Shinji rode out his orgasm in his mouth.
Eventually, Shinji’s grip slackened and Akihiko sat back to take deep gasps of air, wiped his mouth on his sleeve. His heartbeat thrummed throughout his body, a needy, grasping rhythm.
Shinji took two wobbly steps and collapsed onto the couch. Akihiko turned so that he was between Shinji’s legs, still kneeling on the floor, and kissed the side of his knee. If Shinji fell asleep right then, Akihiko felt he would do something dramatic, like cry.
“Don’t tell me you’re tapping out,” Akihiko said, trying to tease instead of beg.
Shinji’s eyes cracked open and he looked at Akihiko, then dropped his gaze lower. Akihiko felt one of Shinji’s feet nudge his legs further apart and he reached down to take his cock in hand. He was aching for it, all over again.
“You turn me on,” Akihiko said, stating the obvious. But Shinji’s mouth canted up into a smile that looked greedy, hungry.
Shinji shifted back on the couch. “C’mere.”
Akihiko didn’t need to be told twice. Shinji yanked Akihiko around until he got him settled between his thighs back to front, one leg thrown over Shinji’s knee, and shoved a hand up his sweatshirt, the other taking his cock in a loose grip.
Akihiko tipped his head back for a kiss, and felt Shinji smile, which made something pinball around inside his ribcage. It was a bad angle, but he didn’t care. The warm press of Shinji’s lips, the touch of his tongue, he liked it so much it didn’t matter that they couldn’t connect properly.
The almost-kiss and Shinji touching his cock were enough to rile him up, but not enough to get anywhere. He tried to thrust into Shinji’s hand, but his grip stayed loose.
“Shinji,” Akihiko said, annoyed.
“What?” They were too close to make any sense of his expression, but Akihiko was sure he was doing that sarcastic thing with his eyebrows.
“You know what.”
Shinji huffed a laugh, bumping their noses together. “Go on then,” he said. “You know what you like.”
Akihiko shoved two fingers into Shinji’s mouth.
Shinji groaned and craned forward to meet him with a lewd slurp. Akihiko felt a stab of arousal, deep in his gut, and pulled his fingers free. He angled his hips up and pushed both fingers inside. Shinji groaned, long and low, the vibrations rolling through Akihiko’s chest.
“Jesus,” he said, his voice rough. “Aki.”
“Shut up,” Akihiko said. It stung, but only a little; he was loose enough from earlier that Shinji’s spit gave just enough slip. The problem was nailing the angle.
Shinji’s grip was still slack on his cock, his rhythm weird and inconsistent. Akihiko was so keyed up he couldn’t focus, could only feel the frustration of not getting what he wanted.
After several fruitless thrusts, Akihiko groaned. “It’s not enough.”
Shinji made a vaguely rude sound, then slid his hand free of Akihiko’s sweatshirt and hooked his arm through the bend of Akihiko’s leg, pulled it back so he was nearly folded in half, and the next thrust of Akihiko’s fingers almost made him bite through his tongue.
“Fuck, Aki,” Shinji said. He sounded pained, even though he was doing fuck all to help Akihiko come. He wanted to give Shinji shit for that, but all that he could say was, “Shinji.”
“Yeah,” Shinji mumbled, then buried his face in Akihiko’s neck, biting lightly just below his jaw. “Keep goin’.”
The sweatshirt was too hot; beads of sweat were dripping down his sides. He felt completely surrounded by Shinji, his senses narrowed to the touch of Shinji’s hands, the solid press of his chest against his back.
Shinji licked and sucked at the side of Akihiko’s neck, more interested in tasting him than helping him get off; he was still stroking him lazily, barely any pressure behind his grip, stopping every once and a while just to smear the pre around the head of his cock.
Akihiko thrust his fingers mindlessly, a harsh counterpoint to Shinji’s hand, almost every thrust sending electric pulses to his cock. He could feel tension gathering in his core, could feel his legs spasm as he drew closer and closer.
He groaned, pushing his hips uselessly into Shinji’s hand. “Shinji, I—”
“Yeah,” Shinji breathed the word into Akihiko’s ear, his hair tickling his jaw. “Show me.”
Shinji abruptly started touching him properly, tightening his grip and speeding up his strokes, and Akihiko unraveled. Pleasure crested, then at last broke over him, and Akihiko came with a low cry, so abruptly he was winded. He came in three hard pulses as Shinji worked him over, feeling his body clench around his own fingers.
“Aki…” Shinji said, quietly, but with feeling. He released him and traced his hand over the fluid seeping into the fabric of Akihiko’s sweatshirt, then pushed it up to flatten his palm to his stomach. Akihiko dropped his head back against Shinji’s shoulder and wheezed for air.
Akihiko slid his fingers free and wiped them on his thigh, then craned upwards to kiss the underside of Shinji’s jaw. Shinji ran his hand up Akihiko’s chest and pinched his nipple, hard. Akihiko made a noise that could only really be described as a squeak. He felt Shinji’s chest jump with a laugh he didn’t fully release.
“You’re so…” Shinji’s voice dropped lower, he sounded annoyed but that wasn’t much help because he almost always did. He ran both hands down Akihiko’s stomach, along the insides of his thighs.
Then abruptly, he shoved Akihiko forwards and he caught himself against the coffee table. He heard the snap of a cap, the familiar squelch of lube being squeezed from the tube, then felt a slick touch skim over his ass.
“Shinji…” he said, a little apprehensively. “Hang on.”
“You can take it,” Shinji said, dismissively. Which, obviously, but still— Akihiko made a high, shocked noise as Shinji sank his fingers inside him, right to the knuckles.
“Oh,” he gasped, his nerves crackling. “God.”
Shinji pressed his front all along Akihiko’s back, bending forwards to kiss the nape of his neck. He felt Shinji’s hips align with his own, felt them roll forwards as he thrust with his hand. Akihiko gasped thickly as the sensation shot straight to his cock.
“Too much?” Shinji murmured.
“Wuh?” Akihiko said, dazed. “Yeah but don’t—don’t stop.”
Shinji snickered and rolled his hips again, pressing up against his hand wedged between them, pushing his fingers in and crooking them so that on the next thrust Akihiko couldn’t help but moan.
“Just like that,” Shinji said, lips pressed to the back of Akihiko’s neck. “Fuck. You’re so tight.”
Akihiko tried to speak but only managed: “Hahnghnk.”
“Takin’ it so well,” Shinji mumbled, and Akihiko’s vision fuzzed-out a little.
Shinji fucked him steadily, rocking his hips against him in time with his hand, pressed flush along his back, and for what felt like forever. It hurt, but Akihiko liked it. It was a pain like exertion, and he liked that it came from Shinji, liked pain when it felt like proof being burned into his body.
But he was also going to lose his mind. All his nerves were crackling, white-hot and overloaded, the press of Shinji’s fingers was too good. It was all he could do to brace himself against the table, gasp for air, and try not to jerk away every time Shinji thrust forwards.
His arms shook under his weight, his mouth hung open in an endless stream of noise at a pitch a lot higher than he’d ever own up to. He was probably drooling, too, but there was nothing he could do about that.
Shinji began to grind harder and harder against him, pushing Akihiko forwards and straining his legs. Akihiko felt the air punch out of Shinji’s lungs, and he suddenly became a lot heavier, so he must’ve finished. His head lolled against Akihiko’s shoulder and he mumbled something incoherent past the slick sounds of him fucking Akihiko into insanity.
Then Shinji took his cock—somehow hard again—in hand. Akihiko’s hips jumped and Shinji’s fingers slid deeper. There was no way he could come. He was well past whatever limits he had.
“C’mon. For me,” Shinji said, barely above a sigh, and it landed like a blow to Akihiko’s gut. Oh, fuck he was gonna come again. Akihiko choked and put his hand around Shinji’s, made him jerk him faster, harder.
When he came it hurt, a little, but the relief of it, the release that made every muscle in his body go slack, felt so good that Akihiko’s vision blurred.
He collapsed onto his knees, sprawled half on the table. He felt Shinji sag down with him, head buried in Akihiko’s shoulder.
Neither of them said anything for a long time.
Shinji was a comfortable weight against him. Akihiko could feel the rise and fall of his ribs, could feel his hair tickling his neck.
Then Akihiko was overtaken by a yawn so big his jaw cracked. He felt the huff of Shinji’s breath against the sweat cooling on his skin, heard him mumble something incomprehensible.
Shinji dragged him backwards and up onto the couch. Akihiko let him arrange them again, this time on their sides, facing one another. Shinji dragged a corner of the blanket over them.
“Dinner,” Akihiko mumbled.
“Yeah, yeah,” Shinji said, tucking his head under Akihiko’s chin. The tip of his nose brushed the thin skin at the hollow of his throat and Akihiko shivered.
“We’ve only got tonight,” Akihiko said, even as his eyes slid closed. “I’m not…” he yawned a second time, “not gonna go easy on you.”
Shinji snorted. “Uh huh.”
It was too hot to lay that way, their skin stuck together with sweat and other fluids, but Akihiko couldn’t help but settle in. Their knees slotted together, he shifted his arm to better cushion Shinji’s head, and wrapped his hand around Shinji’s wrist.
They could get away with a five minute nap, right? He pressed his nose to the top of Shinji’s head and breathed in his familiar smell. He felt that golden sensation unfurl in his chest, and he knew this was exactly where he was meant to be.
Shinji’s pulse was steady and strong, thrumming against his fingers. Akihiko fell asleep smiling.