Haruhiro liked to be teased. He liked to be prompted and guided into place,coaxed slowly and gently into love.
Manato had zero problems with that.
It began the way it always did, cuddling together. This time they were on the couch because it was a soft summer evening with just enough rain to cool the air and make a warm dry living room just about the coziest place a person could be. As Haruhiro put it, it was a night made for relaxing. Who was Manato to say no? Especially when his companion was just at that cusp between awake and asleep that made him curl up in Manato's lap like a spoiled kitten.
They had been there for a while. The rain drummed on the glass windows, white noise in the background, while Manato's fingers worked in continually deeper strokes into his boyfriend's soft brown hair earning soft hums of approval. With a laugh, he had leaned down, and brushed his lips gently against Haruhiro's brow. The younger boy made the cutest little sigh, so he did it again, on the crown of the cheek this time.
Another little sigh, and in his lap Haruhiro rolled over and blinked sleepily up at him.
The older boy reached down and craddled Haruhiro's head in his hands and kissed the tip of the younger boy's nose, then the bridge, then the other cheek, watching the younger boy's face scrunch together. It was so adorable, he couldn't help pressing his lips to Haruhiro's languid little mouth and kissing him in earnest, coaxing his lover awake.
It took a bit. Haruhiro was surprisingly stubborn about his naps. But eventually their lips were moving together in their usual slow sensual dance, tongues tangling until they both ran out of breath. They parted, annd he pressed their foreheads together, taking the time to admire the delicate lines of Haruhiro's face in the dim light. For a moment, they breathed in sync.
Manato let one hand slowly make it's way from where it had just craddled Haruhiro's cheek down his neck and back, watching the way the half light danced across Haruhiro's face as he shivered against Manato's hand. Cold fingers slipped underneath Haruhiro's loose shirt to find smooth soft skin, warm and just barely damp from being trapped against the sofa for the last 2 hours. He skimmed his hand up and down Haruhiro's back, keeping his touches light, barely there. Haruhiro groaned and arched away from the tickling, pouting.
Manato chuckled. "So cute."
Haruhiro pouted even harder, prompting more laughter out of his older boyfriend who proceeded to bury his face into the crook of Haruhiro's neck to stifle it.
Scent had a funny way of collecting there, Manato had found out. The slightly plasticy smell of Haruhiro's hair gel, the bright note of his spray deodorant, and the soft musty smell of sweat and hay and charcoal that was just Haruhiro filled his senses.
His lips began to move, softly searching, not yet used to the pleasure map of his partner's body. And yet, his younger lover didn't seem to mind, breathing in quick - dare he believe - excited little puffs of air right by Manato's ear.
A startled gasp told him he'd found it, that tender little spot just at the junction of Haruhiro's throat. He pressed a firmer kiss to it, opening his mouth to taste the salty tang of the damp skin.
Haruhiro whined in protest.
It was sad, really, how good Manato had gotten at hiding his fumbles. He froze for a mere fraction of a second, long enough to gather himself, not long enough for the lovely boy in his lap to notice the lapse.
He returned to the spot much more gently, with long languid licks and soft mouthing. From the way Haruhiro's breathing settled into steady but quick pulses, he knew it was the right decision. So he kept on, lavishing that spot, and another one he found my Haruhiro's ear on the other side with soft patient attention. His hands followed suit, working in nonsensical patterns accross the younger boy's back and sides, layering pleasure over pleasure until Haruhiro was shivering, his throat too sensitive for further attention.
Then Manato drew back slowly, not wanting to but needing space to tug Haruhiro's thin linen shirt out of the way. Haruhiro followed his touch, almost as if on instinct.
The elation that welled inside the older boy's heart surprised even him. It was bitter...a good fresh kind of bitter, like the flavor of raw mint. This time it was Manato's turn to draw a sharp breath.
He leaned foward to kiss Haruhiro again and again and again, light little brushes that didn't always quite reach the younger boy's lips. But they kept Haruhiro satisfied long enough for Manato to edge his own shirt off of them in between the light pecks. At the end of the ordeal, he rewarded the younger boy with a proper kiss.
It really was like learning how to dance. Carefully leading his partner onstage, turning and twirling around them, reaching out and giving way in turns, responding to the beckons of his partner and accomodating them.
Haruhiro probably would have made a great dancer.
But all dances had to end, and when fingers dug into the skin of his shoulders, he knew it was time. The beginings of tears that shone in the corners of Haruhiro's doe-brown eyes both hurt and consoled him. He kissed them away.
Manato turned them both to the side so he could lay Haruhiro down against the suede couch. Looking up at him, Haruhiro's eyes were glazed over, but there was focus to them that determinedly sought out and connected with Manato's own.
With a smile Manato trailed his fingers lightly from Haruhiro's collar bone down to his chest, over dusky pink nipples already stiff and waiting. With tongue and lips and fingers in intervals he worshiped them too, slowly, softly, deliberately. Beneath him Haruhiro writhed, trying to both arch into his touch and yet pull away. Manato moved with him following the rise and fall of Haruhiro's body until his nipples were swollen and nearly aching from pleasure.
He made his way down Haruhiro's body like that, finding all the places where his younger lover was sensitive, and building pleasure up slowly until he was sure that every nerve in the vicinity was crying.
The only thing he didn't touch, was the hard, throbbing organ where a single translucent drop had begun to form at the rosy tip.
Haruhiro was beyond words at his point, communicating in only whimpers and mews. He lay spread out before Manato, his entirey body flushed a pretty shade of pink and so tense he was shivering. If Manato so much as brushed against his dewing cock now, Haruhiro would probably cum.
So he didn't. Instead he reached out for the small vial of holy oil he kept in the coffee table.
He should probably care that he was likely going to hell for this.
The oil had an astringent spicy sort of smell, a cross between ashes and incense and it melded beautifully with Haruhiro's.
Haruhiro clenched down at first, hard on the finger that tried to press in, so Manato eased up, kneading and coaxing the clenched ring of muscles to relax. Even so Haruhiro's teeth dug into his bottom lip so hard Manato was afraid his younger lover would bite right through it. With this free hand, he reach over pushed two fingers into Haruhiro's mouth lightly grasping his tongue between them.
Haruhiro responded automatically, suckling at Manato's fingers. Just like before, Manato danced with him, gently probing the contours of the soft wet mouth. Now that he had something else pay attention to, Haruhiro began to relax until Manato could ease, first one and then another finger inside him. It was hot and tight, the paltry oil no match for muscle and body heat. Just from feeling Haruhiro like this Manato nearly snapped.
But he couldn't. Nothing in the world would let him hurt Haruhiro.
Not his Haruhiro. Never his Haruhiro.
Carefully his fingers stroked and curled working at the heated flesh, searching until a strangle cry and scrape of teeth told him he had found what he was looking for. He pressed in a third finger then, murmuring apologies from the pain, carressing the pleasure spot he had just found as he worked the tight cavern open wiith more oil and deeper strokes. He worked until all of Haruhiro's frustrating beautiful moans and cries drove him crazy and he couldn't take it anymore.
They kissed as Manato guided his aching member into his beloved Haruhiro.
Even now, he was afraid. Afraid of his own lack of control, afraid that even Haruhiro might still reject him. But his dear Haruhiro, his darling little Haruhiro accepted him, as if the younger boy had been made for Manato alone.
Oh god Luminaris, if that were true.
This time they moved frantically and desperately, but no less intimately, as if maybe, if he tried hard enough, Manato could force their bodies together into a single entity. Could force them to share hearts and minds and bodies so they could never be sepparated.
Nothing. Nothing could be more perfect, more right, than the way Haruhiro was wrapped around him right then. Nothing could be more divine than the way Manato's name was twisted and corrupted on his delicate lips, the way he screamed again and again into Manato's ear.
Forget everything else, Haruhiro please.
They reached their peak together, crying.
But all good things come to an end. Delusions are not meant to last into the morning.
Haruhiro didn't know why he woke up crying and that was probably for the best. It probably made it easier to smile up at Moguzo who had worriedly prodded him awake.
"I'm fine....it's nothing," Haruhiro said, gettting up. By the time he was dressed the tears were gone and his face was serene, and his eyes were focused, ready for the day's hunt.
Manato was happy, proud, angry, lonely...but none of that matters. Manato was nothing.
All he could do was curl up in the old bedstraw that would never get wet no matter how many tears he cried.