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Deeper Than Bass

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Haru stood in front of the club, wondering if turning away was still an option.

He could hear distant rock music playing in the basement of the building. The gig had already started – which was, in fact, all according to Haru’s plan. He’d arrive a little late, listen to the band play and leave right after, never seen by anyone he knew. A solid plan.

He wasn’t supposed to be here at all. Makoto didn’t want him here and he knew it.

This was all Kisumi’s fault. Just a few days ago, Haru had walked Makoto to his band rehearsals. He had been ready to tell Makoto bye, turn on his heels at the doorstep and leave as he always did, until Kisumi found out he had actually never seen their gig. Haru’s teeth clenched as he remembered the way Kisumi’s eyebrows had climbed up towards his hairline as he had asked way too loudly: ”What? You’re always together and you still haven’t seen Makoto on stage?”

Makoto had flinched and hurried to give a bunch of explanations. How he had told Haru not to come to their gigs. How he was too shy to perform in front of him. How Haru probably didn’t even care.
”Shame. Makoto really is something else on stage”, Kisumi had said, smirking knowingly and returning to tuning his guitar. ”You’d think with you two being so close you’d be interested.”

Makoto had flushed red and practically pushed Haru out of the door to avoid continuing the conversation, but it was too late. Haru’s mind was already wrapped around the topic in hand. Kisumi had struck a nerve; he was skilled at that. His way of emphasizing the word ‘close’ had been calculated and very, very suggestive.

Also, biting right into Kisumi’s bait, Haru did start to wonder why Makoto wasn’t sharing this with him. He had sure heard Makoto practicing with his bass sometimes when he was visiting him, but the band was something the brunet seemed to be oddly shy, almost embarrassed about. Haru had always considered Makoto’s behavior a bit weird, but to be fair, Makoto accepted a lot of weird things in him, too. Their relationship had always been about acceptance and support, so he wasn’t going to raise questions if Makoto didn’t want them to be raised. He had never had a problem with not hearing Makoto play at a live show until now.

But their relationship had also always been about sharing everything. Haru had never had any reason to be jealous, because he was always involved in whatever Makoto did. Except this. The band was something he knew nothing about.

He was angry at himself for letting Kisumi’s words affect him, but here he was – walking down the stairs to the building’s basement, where the band was playing. Now that he was already here, he wasn’t going to turn back.

He knew he wasn’t doing exactly a right thing here. He was disrespecting Makoto’s wish, but he figured it might do Makoto good to get over his fear of performing for someone he knew. Not that he was going to reveal himself in the audience. He’d wait and casually mention it afterwards. Maybe.

The loudness of the music hit Haru like a wave as he reached the basement floor. The closing riffs of a dark-toned song were played until the song ended, resulting in cheers from the audience. It took Haru a while to get used to hearing such loud noises, but it wasn’t that bad after a while. He dove into the mass of people and tried to find a spot where he could see the stage but not stand out.

His eyes landed on the three guys on stage. They were all dressed in different clothing than usually. Out of all three of them, Makoto was wearing the least flashy outfit, but it was still very different compared to what he usually wore. Makoto rarely used tank tops, but now he had a black one on, accompanied by a semi-formal black jacket hanging unbuttoned on his frame, sleeves rolled up to his elbows. His red jeans were ripped and a little bit too tight, and Haru was pretty sure the two flashy rivet belts had very little to do with keeping the jeans up.

Kisumi’s clothes were a combination of black and red and leopard pattern and lots of unnecessary zippers and chains – it was a rather tacky outfit, but Haru found himself thinking that if someone was to wear something like that, it should indeed be Kisumi. Asahi, who sat behind the drums, was clad in a red blouse with a loose black tie; Haru realized the blouse sparkled a little when light hit it.

On top of everything, Haru was pretty sure all three were wearing eyeliner. He smirked a little to himself. The guys were really going all out.

Haru’s eyes went back to Makoto as he tried to pinpoint what else was strange about Makoto’s look. Then he realized it was the riveted choker around his neck. Haru wasn’t sure if he wanted to roll his eyes at it or bite his lip, because why did Makoto have one of those and why did it look so good on him?

The band started to play another song. The intro part was a long one, long enough for Haru to wonder if there would be singing at all. Which made him wonder what Makoto sounded like. Years of being best friends, and Haru had only caught Makoto humming to a song stuck in his head once or twice – never singing. His voice was always so soft and gentle that Haru couldn’t help wondering if it even fit this kind of rock music.

Then Makoto stepped closer to the microphone and let out words, and Haru’s mouth fell open.

It was nothing like he had expected. Makoto’s voice wasn’t gentle at all; it was husky, raw, forceful. If Haru weren’t seeing Makoto lean against the microphone with his own two eyes, he had found it hard to believe that such voice could be coming from his sweet, kind friend.

Something else was precisely the right choice of words to describe Makoto.

A few more energetic, rough songs, and the audience was really starting to get into it. There were some very enthusiastic girls in the front row; Haru figured this wasn’t their first time seeing the band live, as they liberally sang along to the songs. That was yet another thing Haru could not quite grasp about the music industry. Besides being loud and taking so much effort to maintain, bands made teenage girls act like they were on drugs.

It all seemed rather dull to Haru, but it was important to Makoto, so he had always quietly accepted it. Although Makoto sometimes seemed to have trouble keeping up with both the swim club and the band rehearsals. Haru had wondered if it was worth it. And of course he kind of hoped Makoto would eventually choose swimming.

Makoto tried his best not to put one of his hobbies ahead of the other. He couldn’t imagine not having picked up a bass guitar years ago. The bass he had bought to himself was almost like a friend to him by now. A very few things felt better than the excitement from playing a difficult riff and making it sound just right.

But he also loved swimming, he loved their team in Iwatobi, and – well, he could never, ever even imagine life without Haru.

Makoto adjusted the strap of his bass guitar slightly when a song ended. He glanced at Kisumi, waiting for him to start playing another song. Kisumi was taking his time talking to his microphone, thanking the audience for welcoming them so warmly and openly flirting to the eager girls in the front row. Makoto glanced at Asahi, who was twirling the drumsticks with his fingers and laughing at Kisumi’s jokes.

They had long ago agreed on a certain things; on stage, they wanted to be fiery and energetic, actively connecting with the audience, but in an honest, down-to-earth way. Which meant Kisumi flirted a lot because it came naturally from him. Asahi was fireworks behind his drums, driving their songs further with endless energy and giving the audience the excited feeling they expected to get at a gig.

And Makoto himself... well. He had been uncertain about his stage presence at first, but everyone kept telling him he had natural charm and that the more freely he expressed himself on stage, the better. So Makoto never really thought much about what he did on stage; he just let the music take over him. He indulged himself in bringing the stories in their songs alive, giving in to the passion he had in himself but so often repressed.

Besides, it was easy for him to sing the lyrics with feeling when he was the one behind them. Neither Asahi nor Kisumi had any interest in writing lyrics and they both thought Makoto’s were good. They did sometimes tease him about such emotional views on the world, especially when he wrote anything to do with romance. But he had learned to laugh it off, because in all seriousness, Asahi and Kisumi appreciated his work. And Makoto was happy to have a way to channel his inner thoughts.

Asahi knocked the drumsticks together four times in a fast tempo, and Makoto leaned very close to his microphone to sing the first words of their next song along with the intro riff. His lips almost brushed the microphone between words. He let his voice become rough; this was a sound that represented everything he wasn’t in daylight.

In the audience, Haru’s pulse was starting to quicken.

The longer the gig went on, the more different Makoto became. The overall atmosphere in the building was getting warmer, hotter. Haru hated to admit it, but he started to understand what Kisumi had meant. Nothing about Makoto was different, yet everything about him was. The Makoto he was used to was a friendly orca – but right now it seemed like a fitting coincidence that orcas were also called killer whales.

Makoto moved like he had never seen him move; with energy and power that seemed to both result in and be born from the way his bass sounded. There was something about it that gave Haru goosebumps. Never in a million years could he have guessed that when he was on stage, Makoto was... like this. Bold. Fierce. Aggressive.

Suddenly it wasn’t three childhood friends sharing a lukewarm hobby, it was three musicians setting the stage on invisible fire. How three so different personalities made a band work was beyond Haru’s imagination, though. Haru had always suspected that Kisumi played the guitar only because of the admiration he got for it, but there was no way he could be this skilled if attention was his only motivation. His backing vocals were also in beautiful harmony with Makoto’s lead. Asahi delivered an energetic core to their songs. And Makoto was... simply gorgeous.

Eyes scanning the audience, Makoto smiled to himself. The crowd felt especially lively tonight. He was always a bit nervous at the beginning of a live show, but it faded quickly when they were greeted with such enthusiasm. Now he could just enjoy the ride.

Their band had started from small, but a gig after gig, they had been slowly building a fan base. Playing together was fun in any circumstances, be if for a small audience, a big and loud one, or just to each other in their small rehearsal studio. But of course it felt amazingly rewarding to see a lot of people dancing to their music.

Suddenly, for a split second, he thought he had seen a more than familiar dark hair and a pair of blue eyes somewhere in the crowd.

Makoto’s thoughts were out of order for a second, making him mess up a part of his bass line. The audience didn’t seem to notice, but Kisumi glanced at him. He hurried to smile back reassuringly as soon as he got the rhythm back. He’d get it together. The song was about to end anyway.

The audience cheered after the song and Makoto sighed in relief. He was sure he had seen wrong. There was no way Haru would be in the audience. He’d have to focus.

”The next one is D.T.B.”, he heard Kisumi reminding Asahi. ”Makoto, you wanna introduce it?”

What a timing. Well, at least he could take his confusion from momentarily thinking he had seen Haru, and put it into delivering this next song properly. This wasn’t just any song. While most of their music was rough and fast, they did have a few slower, softer ones. This one held the most feeling in it.

”We’re going to play something a bit more sentimental next”, he spoke to the microphone and smiled, looking at the people in the audience. ”So if any of you have someone you hold very dear, think about them and dance along. Or dance with them if they’re here. The song is called Deeper Than Bass.”

The song started, and Haru looked at the people hugging each other and swaying together in the crowd. Some of them had probably heard it on the band’s previous gigs and knew what to expect. From the looks of it, a love song.

The intro was soft, carried on by a simple but pretty guitar melody. It still sounded like Makoto’s band, not entirely mushy like some pop ballads were, but there was a gentle, a little bit wistful sound to it. Even though it was a slower song, it made Haru’s heart bump a little faster. The intro alone managed to make Haru feel like this was something he had to hear.

When Makoto started to sing, Haru was once again immobilized. Singing a bit softer now, his voice was closer to his talking voice, closer to what Haru had gotten used to hearing. The way he pronounced the words gently to the microphone made it very easy to imagine they were alone and Makoto was saying them to Haru, and only Haru.

But what caught Haru’s attention the most were the lyrics.

They were about eye contacts that made one’s heart flutter. Getting stuck to stare at someone for a little bit too long. There was a description of lips that were practically asking to be kissed, followed by a description of the fear of those lips saying ‘no’. No doubt was this song about feelings – hidden romantic feelings that were described as deeper than oceans or the sound of the bass.

Haru swallowed.

In the chorus, the atmosphere of the song got a bit heavier and fuller again. With sincere intensity, Makoto sang about the bright blue eyes that made winter turn into spring. And how could anyone be able to say the word ‘spring’ so softly?

Haru was aware of the possible meaning of the lyrics, but he couldn’t help doubting himself. Makoto had written such beautiful, loving things; almost like a confession. Blue eyes. It couldn’t be meant for him, could it?

Then the intense second chorus ended and changed into a softer, more silent part, and the words ”I want to take you home” flowed several times from Makoto’s mouth, enchanting, captivating. ”Let me take you home, because it’s meaningless without you.”

Suddenly, memories flashed in Haru’s mind. The stranded island, the rain, the sincere look in Makoto’s eyes. It’s meaningless without you.

He felt shivers in his whole body. He was sure now.

The way Makoto had looked at him for years now had not been just affectionate, it had been longing. It appeared Makoto was unable to express his thoughts when they were face to face, but in form of a song... his emotions came through clearly.

Haru could barely breathe.

Makoto’s mind was somewhere else than the place he was physically in. He loved singing Deeper Than Bass, because it always took him somewhere far, somewhere private; to a place where he was surrounded by warmth and smiles and the familiar scent of chlorine, into an universe where he had enough courage to say the things he wished he’d dare to say.

It had taken him a long time before he had given these lyrics for Kisumi and Asahi to read. Displaying such personal feelings made him feel a bit vulnerable. But the guys had instantly liked the lyrics – never mind Kisumi’s knowing smirk he often gave him but never bothered to explain – and it had become one of their most liked song.

Eventually he had learned to abandon the feeling of vulnerability and just embrace the chance to safely feel.

He had never once sung this song without a picture of Haru clear in his mind.

As the song ended, Kisumi moved on to introducing the next one. ”I think we’ve had enough of romance for a while”, he said shooting a wink at the audience. ”Let’s bring out some sex, shall we?”

People cheered. Haru snorted and shook his head lightly. Kisumi was in his own element, shameless and playful, but there was no way Makoto would go in there, whatever ‘bringing out some sex’ meant.

Except that as it turned out, yes, Makoto would indeed go in there. Oh, Makoto had barely started.

The next song took the atmosphere into the entirely opposite direction; from the very first riffs, it was fast and spicy, almost aggressive in the way it pushed forward and caught the audience in its grip. The whole band seemed to step up a gear.

Haru couldn’t keep his eyes off Makoto. Makoto, whose fingers moved precisely and quickly on the thick strings. Whose hips moved, leaned forward, swayed to the rhythm of the song in a more indecent way than Haru would’ve ever imagined him being capable of. Whose voice was raspy and rough again as he spat semi-dirty phrases into the mic and bent his neck backwards right after, biting his lower lip, enjoying the sound they created.

God, he was sexy. Haru couldn’t help it; air left his lungs and reason escaped his mind. All he could do was stare in awe. How was Makoto able to do that? To be a sweet, caring, love-struck childhood friend in one moment and become an insanely hot, fearless rock star in the next?

Between songs, Makoto took off his jacket and threw it aside, revealing his bare arms and drawing some excited sounds out from the girls in the front row. Here, he didn’t seem as ashamed about baring skin as he usually was. The loose tank top and the tight jeans he was wearing somehow managed to be a perfect balance between covering and revealing, teasing a little but leaving things to imagination. Haru had seen Makoto half-naked a million times while they were swimming, yet this was something entirely different.

Maybe it was the stirred up atmosphere of the club that rubbed off on him, but suddenly he felt very intrigued.

The brunet leaned against the microphone again, lowering his chin and shooting an intense look at the audience. His voice went down to almost a whisper, but that didn’t make it less powerful in the slightest.

Dominance. There was no other word for it. Makoto was radiating dominance.

Haru felt his cheeks growing hot. He had concealed his attraction for so long, but now it was overflowing; it wasn’t just attraction anymore, it was craving.

In the back of his mind, Haru had always known that if they were to cross the line he had desperately wanted them to cross for a long time now, one of them would have to grow some backbone. He didn’t have enough guts to do it, so he had secretly wished that Makoto would one day find a more assertive side of himself and erase the barrier between them. However, as Makoto was always overly nice and mellow and discreet, Haru had given up hope.

And there it was. That Makoto would be able to push him down and give him what he needed.

Haru felt the sound of the bass vibrating in his whole body, making him shiver and gasp, almost as if Makoto was actually touching him. He couldn’t help wondering if those fingers moving on the bass guitar would be just as thorough, just as skillful, if they were playing with Haru’s body instead.

Haru couldn’t decide if he wanted the band to play forever so he could never stop watching them, of if he wanted them to stop so he could go to Makoto and rut against the hips that were swaying in such obscene ways. The mere thought, agitated by the show Makoto was giving him, made him grow half hard in his jeans.

Haru winced. He would not be able to look at Makoto the same way ever again.

Song after song followed, until the show was over. The three musicians thanked the audience and went off the stage. People started drifting towards the outdoor, though some stayed loitering near the stage in hopes of meeting the band members. Haru wasn’t sure where to go. His original plan was to leave as quickly as possible, but now his mind was an utter mess.

Without thinking, he dragged his feet closer to the stage, instead of heading out of the door. He still wasn’t sure of what he wanted to do next, but he thought he’d figure it out if he stayed for a few more minutes.

Makoto had disappeared to the backstage and Asahi was also somewhere out of sight, but Kisumi had taken the chance to thank their fans for showing up and promote their next gig. Haru tried to turned away immediately when he saw Kisumi, but it was too late; even though he was surrounded by a group of girls, Kisumi still noticed him. ”Hey! Haru!”

Kisumi came through the mass of people and grinned at Haru. ”Got curious, huh?”
Haru shrugged, painfully aware of being an underdog to Kisumi right now.
”So, what do you think? I think we had a nice vibe here tonight. Lots of people around.”
Haru looked away. ”You... you guys are good.”
”Boy, aren’t you chatty”, Kisumi laughed. His eyes twinkled mischievously. ”So, how about Makoto?”
”What about him?”
”Hot, isn’t he?”
Haru couldn’t help blushing at the straightforward question. Hopefully Kisumi wouldn’t notice it in the dim room. ”I’m not going to answer to that.”
Kisumi chuckled. ”Suit yourself. He’s backstage if you want to meet him before we start unloading.”
Haru froze for a second. ”I – don’t –”
”Eh?!” complained the girls that had followed Kisumi. ”That’s unfair, Shigino-kun! How come he can go backstage to see Tachibana-kun but we can’t come hang out with you?”
Kisumi laughed charmingly at the pouting girls. ”Sorry, sugar cubes, this is a VIP. Go ahead, Haru! If anyone asks, tell them I sent you.”

And without a chance to back off, Haru was pushed towards the door that separated the performers and the audience. Still not sure if he wanted to turn on his heels and run away, he wandered on the backstage corridor uncertainly, until suddenly a door opened and Asahi appeared.

”Oh, hi!” Asahi greeted him energetically. ”I didn’t know you were coming to see us! The Kirishimas are also here, were you with them? I promised to greet them before we unload, so I’m in a hurry – anyway, Makoto is in the green room.”

And just like that, Asahi disappeared again. Haru stared after him and then turned to look at the door Asahi had just come through. It had the text Green Room painted on it.

Refusing to give his doubts any more room to grow, he knocked on the door and pushed it gently while mumbling nervously: ”Excuse me...”

Behind the door was a small room with dark red walls, almost completely covered in old posters and advertisements and handwritten greetings from the bands that had performed in that club over the years. Personal belongings of Makoto, Kisumi and Asahi were scattered on a couple of armchairs and a worn-out couch.

And in the middle of the room stood Makoto. Shirtless, holding his tank top in his hands, ripped jeans hanging low on his hips.

”Haru!?” Makoto uttered. Haru couldn’t help paying attention to that even in his completely shocked state, Makoto’s voice was rougher and lower than usual from being used so harshly.

Haru closed the door after him. He didn’t find himself much more capable of using a clear voice, either. ”Uh... hi.”

Makoto stood frozen, chest heaving. He was still in a stage fever frenzy, taken over by adrenaline and testosterone flowing in his body. He could still almost feel the vibrations of his own bass quivering in his body. On a gig, he always became more confident. Open. Primitive. The rush of hormones showed no signs of fading, and now suddenly there was Haru, completely out of blue, standing at the doorstep with his gorgeous cerulean eyes wide with astonishment and seeming strangely out of breath.

He should’ve been more embarrassed and upset, but honestly, Makoto’s first thought was that he wanted to walk across the space between them and kiss Haru hard. Which he had to mentally slap himself for.

”You... you saw our show?” he asked. His mouth was dry.

Haru could do nothing about the shivers running down his spine at the roughness of Makoto’s voice. ”Yeah”, he exhaled rather than spoke. ”I... I got curious, and...”

Words faded from Haru’s mind. He couldn’t tear his eyes from Makoto. The bassist was caught by surprise. He stood tall, chin up, every muscle of his nude upper body tensed.

Tense. Right. Makoto was too tense, because unlike usually, neither of them could tell what the other was thinking right now. Haru had to ease the atmosphere. A hug would be good; it would remove the unnecessary awkwardness and return things to normal. It was a proper way to congratulate someone on a successful gig, wasn’t it?

Haru walked over with a little bit too fast steps and caught Makoto into a clumsy embrace. ”You were good”, he said just to say something. ”I’m sorry, you told me not to come but I did anyway. But I’m actually really happy I saw... that.”

Makoto answered the hug slowly; he was still a bit dazed.

As soon as Makoto’s strong arms were wrapped around the smaller guy’s waist, it hit Haru.

Shit. Makoto was warm. Makoto was slightly sweaty, not unpleasantly, but in a way that tickled Haru’s imagination. He could faintly smell the fog from the fog machine, sweat and metal, wildness, mixing into Makoto’s deodorant and his own natural scent. His scent matched the way the bassist had looked like on stage; familiar but strange, appealing, sexy.

And there was, of course, his bare skin right under Haru’s fingers, which made all these thoughts even more impossible to ignore.

Shit. Shittt. Dumbest idea ever. Stop hugging him. Back off. Back off!

He couldn’t.

Makoto’s brain short circuited too. Haru was too close. But he found himself holding on to that closeness, pressing their bodies together. Haru was small but he was not the slightest bit fragile. Makoto wanted to grip tighter. Goddamn adrenaline, he cursed in his mind.

The smallest gasp was exhaled next to his ear. The sound went straight to Makoto’s crotch.

That woke Makoto up from his daze. He abruptly put his hands on Haru’s shoulders and separated the two bodies quickly.

They both stared at each other in silence for a few very long seconds. Makoto was breathing heavily. He would have to step back from Haru if he wanted to be able to restrain himself.

To Makoto’s surprise, he soon realized that Haru’s breathing had turned just as heavy.

”Makoto”, Haru finally said with a choked, desperate, utterly mesmerizing voice.

Makoto really hoped his usual ability to practically read Haru’s mind wasn’t failing him now, because what he heard in Haru’s tone of voice was something he was really keen to hearing. His primitive senses started to take over, filling his mind with the urge to pull Haru close again, to hold him in place, to control.

Haru’s eyes kept dropping on to Makoto’s lips.
Makoto jolted, his pupils dilating, his breath hitching.

”I – I want –”, Makoto began, but decided against finishing the sentence.

Instead, he pulled Haru into a feverish kiss.

Their bodies were pressed together again, hands roaming on skin, Makoto’s fingers clutching to the fabric of Haru’s t-shirt. Haru gasped into Makoto’s mouth.

Without thinking, Makoto pushed Haru roughly backwards, until the back of his legs hit the couch and he fell on his back on it, Makoto landing on top of him and diving into another deep kiss. The fleeting thought of how many groupies of all the bands performing in this club had previously been pushed down on this couch by unknown musicians flashed in Haru’s mind. Something about the dirtiness of that thought was strangely exciting to him.

He could now see what was so interesting in musicians. So many eyes had been on Makoto mere moments ago, but he was the one who got straddled by him here where nobody else could witness it.

The burn that had began between his legs during the gig was back. He lifted his hips, grinding them against Makoto to let him know. Makoto broke the kiss, grunted and pushed back with his half-naked body, pinning him to the cushions. A bulge equal to Haru’s was pressing against the fabric of Makoto’s tight pants.

Haru writhed, gasping. Makoto was radiating the same dominance he had shown on stage.

Haru gazed up at Makoto’s eyes. The black eyeliner was a bit smudged in a very attractive way. The green orbs seemed to glow darker than usually as Makoto stared back at him, all the while rolling his hips to draw choked moans out of them both.

Suddenly they heard someone calling from the direction of the stage. ”Makoto! Work time!”

Makoto woke up from his daze with a snap; he tore himself off Haru instinctively, sitting all the way up. Haru was not fast enough to get up from his back as Kisumi appeared on the doorway. The guitarist’s eyes narrowed as he looked at the two men on the couch and their reddened cheeks. Haru’s position told a tale. Makoto’s lack of shirt didn’t help. There was no way to interpret this in any other way than one.

”Oh, look at you two”, Kisumi chuckled. ”I really wish I wouldn’t have to steal Makoto from you, Haru, but we need him back there.”
Haru just glared at Kisumi. Yeah, as if Kisumi wasn’t enjoying the interruption.
”I’ll be there in a sec”, Makoto replied, trying to sound calm, but his ears were turning red.
”You better be.” Kisumi quirked an eyebrow, looking from Makoto to Haru and back, leaning against the door frame without an ounce of hurry. ”I’d like to be out of here sooner than next week. I’m not going to carry your stuff. Your amp is freaking heavy.”
”Yeah, yeah, I know.”
”Asahi also needs help with his set. You know the drill.” Despite his hurrying words, Kisumi just stood there in a completely leisured manner, smirking knowingly. ”But don’t worry, I bet there will be plenty of opportunities for you two to get it on. Just do it later, will you?”
”I said I’ll be there, Kisumi!” Makoto groused with uncharacteristic impatience, but his blush deepened.
Kisumi just chuckled and left.

Makoto was feeling a bit overwhelmed to say the least. He felt like he had been slapped in the face twice in a row, first by the sudden passion and then by the just as sudden interruption. He tried to pull himself together, but with adrenaline rushing and the tightness in his jeans and with Haru just lying there, it was rather difficult. He’d have to go and help clearing the stage from their equipment. He’d have to go and thank Asahi and Kisumi for another successful gig, just like he always did.

Though a part of him – a very loud and greedy part of him – wanted to just push against Haru again and take him then and there. But he knew he couldn’t. This wasn’t the time, the backstage wasn’t the right place and besides, he didn’t want them to do anything Haru would regret.

Makoto took a deep breath, but could not manage to utter a single word, before Haru said: ”Stop overthinking.”
Makoto blinked and shut his mouth.

Haru sat up and crawled closer, putting his hands on either sides of Makoto, hovering over his lap. ”I’ll come help with your stuff, then you’ll take me home”, he said quietly. ”You want it too, if the lyrics of that song were any indication.”
Makoto stared, suddenly realizing something. ”You heard... that song...”
Haru’s expression didn’t change. ”I did.”

Makoto shivered slightly. All cards were on the table and Haru seemed more than enthusiastic to play.

”Okay”, Makoto said. ”But you don’t have to help. I’ll go. You stay here and wait for me.”
”All right, but... can you work properly like that?”
”Like what?”

Haru’s eyes dropped down to Makoto’s crotch. The fabric of the brunet’s jeans was strained by his obvious state of arousal, his erection begging for attention. ”Those jeans must be uncomfortable”, he said blankly.
”Oh.” Makoto uttered a half-embarrassed, half-desperate laugh. ”Well. I just have to will it away. There’s not much else I can do about it now...”
But Haru’s hand joined in where his gaze was, brushing over the bulge tentatively. ”Let me.”
Makoto couldn’t help squirming, eyelids fluttering at the touch. ”But I – you don’t have to–”
”Stop overthinking”, Haru said again. He changed the angle of his wrist slightly and squeezed.
Makoto bit his lip to hold back a groan. ”Well. I guess... Oh... I guess I can’t say no to that.”

Without wasting a moment, Haru dropped down from the couch, kneeling on the floor, settling between Makoto’s legs. He unfastened the rivet belts and unzipped the jeans with impatient fingers. Makoto raised his hips a little to allow Haru pull his jeans and boxers down his thighs, just enough to get the touch-starved penis out.

Haru licked his lips and glanced briefly at the door. ”This has to be quick”, he said.
”To be honest, I don’t think that’s going to be a problem”, Makoto said with a hoarse voice, fingers running affectionately through Haru’s hair.

Haru smiled a little and leaned forward, taking Makoto in his hand and letting his lips touch him, trailing wet kisses along the shaft. He heard Makoto suck in a breath as he closed his lips over the tip. His tongue teased the slit, collecting the salty drops of pre-cum, before he took the dick as deep into his mouth as he could.

Makoto did his best to hold back any noises that were threatening to escape his throat, but it wasn’t easy. Haru, his beloved Haru, kneeling in front of him and giving him such amazing sensations – fuck, it was breathtaking, and Makoto would definitely not last long. Which would’ve normally been a bad thing, but didn’t bother him now, considering the situation. Kisumi or Asahi or basically anyone could walk in at any minute. As much as he would’ve liked to savor the moment, the sooner he’d reach his release, the smaller the chance of getting caught.

He felt his dick throb against Haru’s throat and instinctively took a tighter grip of the black hair. The slight tug didn’t bother Haru; he bobbed his head up and down in a steady pace, eyes meeting Makoto’s.

”F-fuck, Haru”, Makoto hissed through gritted teeth. ”Keep doing that, babe, don’t stop.”

Babe, Haru repeated in his mind, tasting the word. He wasn’t sure if he liked pet names in general, but when it came from Makoto and especially with such a steamy tone of voice, it didn’t sound bad at all.

He kept working his mouth on Makoto, seeing how his eyes darkened and feeling how the cock became even stiffer in his mouth.

Suddenly the silence was pierced by Asahi’s distant voice. ”Makoto! Get your ass here!”
Makoto slammed his free hand to his forehead, grimaced and shouted back: ”I’m coming!”

Haru raised an eyebrow. His mouth was busy but Makoto could see an amused glint in his eyes.

”Yeah, heads up for you too”, Makoto growled, hips bucking.

Then Makoto took full control, hand heavy on Haru’s head, pushing into the open mouth with sharp thrusts. Small moans came from Haru even though he wasn’t the one being pleasured, his voice vibrating against the cock he was taking. Dominant Makoto made him absolutely weak. All he could do was keep his mouth open and let the bassist fuck his mouth, faster, rougher.

Makoto groaned and stilled.

Haru’s mouth was filled with hot, thick liquid. He drank every drop greedily, basking in the odd satisfaction of the act.

He gave Makoto a moment to pull himself together. The rough fingers slowly slid off his hair.

Haru climbed up from the floor, sitting astride on Makoto’s lap.
”Better?” he mumbled, trying his best to ignore his own hardness.

Makoto didn’t answer, but dove in for a deep, devoted kiss. It surprised Haru a little; he would’ve thought Makoto would find it strange to taste himself on Haru’s tongue. Apparently he didn’t mind.

They parted and formed an intense eye contact. Makoto’s eyes were dazed and softened by the afterglow; suddenly he looked much more like the usual Makoto again. ”You are amazing”, Makoto breathed, leaning forward again to drop gentle kisses on Haru’s lips, chin, neck. ”Amazing. I’m going to make this up to you. As soon as we’re out of here.” Lips brushed Haru’s earlobe. Makoto’s voice became darker again. ”Haru, I want to make you forget your name.”

Haru shivered. To be honest, his body was aching to be touched, but he knew he would have to wait. He pulled out of Makoto’s lap and moved to sit on the corner of the couch, pulling his legs up to cover his neglected hard-on. Makoto got up and closed his jeans and belts – just in time, as Asahi barged in at the next second.

”Seriously, Tachibana!” the red head screeched.
Makoto smiled at him apologetically. ”Yeah, yeah, I’m sorry.” Turning to Haru, he rolled his eyes and muttered under his breath: ”The one time I’m the one late from unloading because I’m busy with someone...”

Then he put his tank top on again and went, giving Haru one last longing look at the doorway.

Haru sat there alone for some long minutes, just breathing and listening to the distant sounds of the stage being emptied. He touched his lips with his fingertips; Makoto’s taste lingered in his mouth. He’d have to think about something else, though. In case anyone would walk in, he’d have to look more innocent, less desperate, and less like he had just had a dick down his throat.

But hell, if he wasn’t a little proud of himself.

Makoto hurried. He knew the technicians of the place tended to get a bit moody if the unload was not quick and efficient enough, so he’d have to make up for the time he had lost.

He did not regret a second of it, though. He could not hold back a ridiculously wide smile as he thought about it. It was difficult to hide his excitement, but he tried his best to act normal as he packed his instrument safely into its case and started to reel some cables. The corners of his mouth kept twitching, though, and his body moved stiffly, anxious to feel more of Haru.

”You finally got through to him, didn’t you?” Kisumi smirked, dissembling Asahi’s drum set.
Makoto glanced at him, but said nothing. Kisumi definitely didn’t need to be encouraged further with his light teasing.
”I definitely did a right thing, angering him into coming to see us”, the guitarist continued casually. ”But no need to thank me. Just think of me while you make sweet, sweet love to him.”
Makoto almost dropped a cable. ”What – I – that is a really weird thing to say, Kisumi.”
”Right, right, it’s not going to be sweet lovemaking, it’s going to be dirty hot banging. My bad.”
”That’s not what I – fuck.” Makoto’s ears turned red, but he shot a displeased look at Kisumi. ”I’d rather not think of you, thank you very much.”
Kisumi chuckled. ”So the banging is going to happen, then? You’re not denying it?”

Makoto turned away quickly and swallowed. His pulse quickened as his mind was suddenly filled with uninvited images. Haru’s usually so expressionless face losing its cool, his body arching on a bed, his eyes glassy with lust – Makoto had to remind himself where he was to keep his thoughts from drifting furthermore.

Thankfully, the conversation ended.

As always, everything worked as if it was rehearsed; the band members and the technicians unplugged, reeled and carried things into Asahi’s sister’s van, until everything except Makoto’s bass was packed away. He’d carry that home himself.

”So, an afterparty? After the stuff is done with?” Asahi asked enthusiastically as all three of them walked towards the green room.
”Uh, I can’t”, Makoto said quickly. ”Actually – do you think you could handle getting the equipment back to the rehearsal studio without me tonight?”
Asahi pouted. ”What? Why?”
”He’s busy”, Kisumi said with a meaningful tone.
”With what?”
”Guess what.”
Asahi seemed sincerely baffled at first, but Kisumi’s smirk gave him a hint. He shot a shocked look at Makoto. ”What? You have someone? You never go home with anybody after a gig!”
Kisumi laughed. ”Asahi, you’re so adorable. Adorably clueless.”
”Wh– shut up, jerk!”
”I just have other plans”, Makoto said quickly to keep the boys from starting to bicker once again.

Makoto glanced at Haru as soon as he was through the door of the green room. Haru was still sitting on the couch, eyes lighting up as the band walked in.

”You know, Makoto, Haru is welcome to tag along”, Kisumi said nonchalantly.
Haru frowned at him. ”To what?” he asked blankly.
”An afterparty.”
”You can’t betray us, Makoto!” Asahi shouted dramatically. ”It’s a tradition!”
Makoto winced. ”I’m sorry!”

All three of them started to gather their belongings. Haru’s eyes lingered on Makoto as Asahi and Kisumi kept complaining to him playfully. He knew it was hard for Makoto to let his friends down, so he’d probably need a bit of encouragement to skip the afterparty.

As soon as he was sure that Asahi and Kisumi’s eyes were on something else and Makoto’s met his, he let his gaze roam Makoto’s body. Then he bit his lower lip, chest heaving with a deep breath, knowing perfectly well what kind of message it sent.

Makoto twitched. He cut the complaints off by simply saying: ”I’m leaving now. Thank you for today.”
Haru smiled discreetly to himself.

He had to half-run to keep up with Makoto as they walked away and up the stairs, out of the back door.

When they were out on the alley behind the building, Makoto let out a sigh as if he had been holding his breath for a while. Then he turned his attention to Haru, a strange sort of smile on his face.
”Well, then”, he said softly. ”We’re alone.”
Haru looked back at him, eyes gleaming, dropping down to Makoto’s lips again. He took a step closer.

Suddenly, a loud squeal echoed from somewhere, and they were approached by a bunch of girls, all of whom had been in the audience. ”Tachibana-kun!”
Makoto flinched a little, but pulled himself together quickly and smiled kindly at the girls. ”Uh, hi! Thanks for coming to our show again.”
”You were great, Tachibana-kun!” a brunette chirped.
”It’s true! I just love your lyrics!” nodded a tall blonde.
Makoto uttered a shy laugh. ”Thanks. But I can’t hog all the credit. The songs would not sound the same if it weren’t for the other guys.”
The girls giggled, visibly charmed by Makoto’s down-to-earth attitude. ”Aww, so humble! Completely different from how you seem when you perform.”

Haru stood next to Makoto, not bothering to participate in the conversation. The presence of the Makoto’s fans bugged him, to be honest. He was not used to thinking that Makoto was popular among the girls – it was easy to think that Kisumi had a fan club, but Makoto was different. Although now that he had seen the band perform, he knew why girls were swooning over him. Haru felt a faint sting of jealousy.

”Are all your lyrics true?” a cute red haired girl asked Makoto curiously.
”Yeah, tell us!” the blonde got excited. ”Like Deeper Than Bass? Is it for a special someone?”

Makoto was stunned and speechless for a few seconds. The girls were staring at him intently. Haru maintained an impassioned expression, but glanced at Makoto from the corner of his eye.

”Yeah, D.T.B. is about... someone”, Makoto finally managed to say.
”No way! Is the person still in the picture?”
Makoto swallowed nervously, suddenly hoping Haru wasn’t standing a few feet away from him, hearing all of the conversation. ”Y-yeah.”
The girls moaned together in disappointment. ”So you’re not available, then”, the brunette said, not even trying to hide her flirt. ”Too bad.”

Haru tried to suppress a frown.

Makoto soon said goodbye to the girls and walked off with Haru. He talked nonchalantly about which train they’d have to take to get back home. It took him a while to realize that Haru was oddly quiet.

”Is everything alright, Haru?” he finally asked.
Haru didn’t feel like giving an exactly straight answer. ”Your band is more popular than I thought.”
”Nah”, Makoto said. ”Most of our fans are friends of a friend or something. We’re not famous.”
”You’re popular. As an individual.” Haru glanced at Makoto. ”They like you.”
Makoto blinked rapidly, guessing right away that by ‘they’ Haru meant ‘girls’ and by ‘like’ he meant ‘want’. He got a bit embarrassed. ”Well, people often only notice the singer... Even though it’s the people who play the instruments that should be admired.”
”You play an instrument, too. That makes you twice as popular.”
”Well, I guess, but – wait.” Makoto stopped and stared at him. ”Are you jealous?”

Haru stopped too, but avoided eye contact.

They stood there for a few silent seconds. The distant sound of trains passing by cut the silence, but otherwise, it was silent. There were no people around to eavesdrop or see them. Nobody to interrupt them. So Makoto felt bold again.

He stepped closer to Haru, his tall body hovering over him. ”Haru, I literally just told those girls the deal with Deeper Than Bass”, he said with a low voice, leaning in to brush over Haru’s lips with his own. ”I’m not into them.”

Haru’s face felt hot; there was nothing he could say to that.

True, Makoto had shown no interest towards the girls, even though they had been practically throwing themselves in his direction. True, Makoto had skipped an afterparty to be with him. True, Makoto had written a whole freaking love song to him.

He lifted his chin and leaned into a kiss. It was soft at first; a gentle, devoted kiss to compensate for every missed chance to do this.

Then he pushed further and ran his tongue over Makoto’s lower lip, asking for more.

Much to Haru’s disappointment, Makoto pulled away.
”We have to catch the train”, the taller boy said with a breathy voice.
Haru sighed but agreed.

The train was packed; apparently another big event had just ended nearby and masses of people were on their way to home at once. Haru and Makoto squeezed themselves in to a crowded car and did not even try to get a seat; it was easier to just stand near the doors. Makoto had slight difficulties keeping his bass guitar case from hitting anything or anyone.

After the train had been on the move for a long while, someone bumped into Haru, making him lose his balance for a bit. Makoto instinctively took a grip of his hip and pulled him closer. A chill ran through Haru’s spine as his back was suddenly pressed to Makoto’s chest.

Makoto had meant to just stop Haru from falling and then let go of him, but the way Haru’s body leaned against his felt too pleasant to give up. With one hand holding the bass and the other staying on the lean hip, he glanced around briefly. There were so many people and so little room, nobody would pay attention to them.

He turned his head slightly, breathing heavily against Haru’s ear. He could see, no, feel Haru shivering.

The shorter boy bent his neck a little to the side, and Makoto really had to fight himself not to immediately lay his lips on the revealed skin.

Haru could feel his cheeks heat up. His body had felt oversensitive ever since he had walked into the green room, no, since the gig actually. Delay after delay had pushed his patience to its limits. He yearned for friction, and Makoto’s breathing against his skin was enough to stir him up. All he could do was endure it and hope that nobody would happen to glance at his crotch.

Then he felt Makoto sway his hips ever so slightly against his backside. A growing hard-on brushed Haru’s ass.

Haru’s mind short circuited. That was it. He would not be able to stand this.

He turned around, both of his hands raising to rest on the broad chest.
”I can’t, I...” he stuttered weakly. ”Makoto.
Makoto just smiled, a dark kind of smile. ”Hang in there. We’re almost home.”

And then he – goddamn Makoto, having abandoned his usual timidness, practically drunk on adrenaline and desire – had the audacity to just lean closer and whisper with a lewd, velvety voice: ”I want you so bad, Haru.”

Haru shivered again, the last remains of his self-control crumbling. He felt helpless when he heard Makoto speak with that voice.

Thank God they were going to be home soon.

The walk home from the train station had never felt so long, though. They didn’t have to discuss where they were going; their wordless connection worked, leading them up the stairs and through Haru’s front door. Shoes were kicked off and jackets were shed, and their footsteps turned into half-running as they rushed to Haru’s room.

Makoto set the bass case down on the floor, and then they just stared at each other.

They were finally there, in a bedroom, alone. Makoto’s lips quirked into a quiet smile, his eyes darkening again.

Haru’s body tensed. His mouth salivated. His hands were shaking.

Now that it was clear what they both wanted, there was no need for modesty and shyness anymore. There was no need to ask what they were; they both knew what they were.

Makoto stepped forward, his tall frame casting a shadow over Haru, his fingertips tracing Haru’s abdomen. He leaned into a light, almost playful kiss, letting Haru’s craving grow even stronger.

Then Makoto abruptly pressed their hips together and the kiss turned feverish.

Clothes were first clutched onto, then unbuttoned and ripped off, giving them both a chance to find new patches of skin to touch. Finally Haru, naked and flushed, was pushed on his back onto his bed. As Makoto followed, Haru instinctively wrapped his arms around the back of his neck. He could not think straight; all he could comprehend was Makoto’s body pressing between his legs and the heavy hands running all over his body.

Makoto’s stage outfit may have currently been lying on the floor of Haru’s bedroom, but his aura hadn’t changed from what it had been on stage. There was still the same dominant, dark look in Makoto’s eyes, and it had nothing to do with the eyeliner.

A hand was suddenly on Haru’s dick, stroking it without hesitation, making Haru pant between kisses. It left the spot soon though. Haru was momentarily disappointed at the loss of touch, before he had another thing to concentrate on; Makoto’s fingers dipped even further down between his legs. Being touched down on the back was an unfamiliar feeling and made Haru squirm uncontrollably, unsure whether his body was trying to escape Makoto’s fingers or encourage them.

”Wait”, Haru gasped, wriggled away from underneath Makoto, turned onto his stomach and crawled towards his nightstand. He opened the drawer and rummaged it impatiently for a moment, until he found a bottle of lube and a condom.

Makoto glanced at the bottle and chuckled. ”Strawberry taste?”
Haru rolled his eyes. ”So what if it is.”

Suddenly, Makoto shifted so he was hovering over Haru, his front brushing over Haru’s backside. He dropped his mouth on the back of Haru’s neck.
”I’m glad you’re prepared”, Makoto hummed against Haru’s skin, taking the lube from Haru’s hand. Haru shivered, unable to do anything but lie flat and endure Makoto’s touches on him.

Makoto ran his hand down Haru’s back, fingers slowing down when they reached his buttock. He could feel the muscles tensing slightly under his touch. He couldn’t help acting on an urge to grind his hips against Haru, his cock brushing between the cheeks tentatively. He let out a soft moan into Haru’s ear; Haru responded with a shaky utterance of Makoto’s name.

Then Makoto pulled back and spilled some lube on his fingers, purring gently: ”I’m also glad you came to see our show. I wouldn’t have thought it’d end up like this, though.”
Haru tried to concentrate on forming a sentence. ”I, uh – am glad, too.”

As Makoto’s lubed up fingers rubbed on him, not quite dipping in yet, suddenly all Haru could think about was the way Makoto’s fingers had moved on the bass guitar.

””, he whimpered incoherently.
Makoto kissed his shoulder. ”Hm?”
”Play me”, Haru said weakly. ”Like you play your bass.”

Makoto stilled for a moment, taking a sharp, astounded breath.

Then his fingers pushed in, slowly easing their way into Haru’s tightness. Haru panted and grasped the bed covers with both hands.

”I’ll play you better than I play my bass”, Makoto murmured playfully. ”I’m an amateur at that, but I think I was made to love you.”

Makoto bent down, laying his mouth on Haru’s lower back and starting to travel upwards, licking his way up Haru’s spine slowly, sensuously. Cool air hit the skin where Makoto’s tongue had just passed it and made Haru shiver. Just how could such a simple thing feel so good?

Then the tongue changed its direction and went back down, further down, further, and Haru realized what it was aiming for a second before Makoto’s mouth was on his hole. The fingers never quite left him, they just took turns with a playful tongue to make him gasp. It felt new and wet and strange and surreal, and Haru loved it.

Makoto’s other hand went to underneath Haru, pulling his hips upwards a bit and taking a hold of his cock that was spilling pre-cum onto the sheets.

Incoherent sounds, not quite words, flooded from Haru’s mouth. His knuckles were white from squeezing the bed covers, but he there was no way he could get a tight enough grip to match the violent waves of desire inside of him. Lying there helpless with someone’s hands and mouth on parts of him that nobody else was allowed to touch appeared to be an incredible turn-on for him.

It went on and on and soon Haru had no idea how many fingers Makoto was using to accompany his tongue – it just wasn’t enough, not even though it felt so good. The sounds he was making weren’t soft gasping anymore; he was moaning and whimpering loudly, repeating the word more over and over again.

Makoto wondered if any song he’d ever write would ever sound even nearly as gorgeous.

Then he pulled off and took a shaky breath. ”Fuck, I’m going to explode.”
Haru’s dazed mind couldn’t quite grasp why Makoto had stopped. ”H-huh?”
”Hot. It’s hot. When you keep moaning and begging like that. You’re... louder than I thought.”
Haru flushed red. ”Shut up”, he said, out of breath.

Makoto gave Haru’s back another long lick up until he was at the base of his neck; then he growled with a raspy, low voice right next to Haru’s ear: ”It’s not a bad thing. Definitely not.”
Haru said nothing, but bared the side of his neck to allow Makoto to kiss it. Makoto took his time doing so.

Haru squirmed, arching his hips upwards, grinding his bottom against Makoto. ”For someone who says they’re going to explode, you’re sure doing a lot of foreplay”, he murmured.
Makoto chuckled. ”I want you to feel good, Haru.”
Haru glanced over his shoulder, giving Makoto an almost pouting look. ”Then hurry up.”

The condom pack had slipped Haru’s fingers at some point and was now lying idly on the sheets. Makoto reached to grab it and sat up, moving away from Haru. The smaller boy watched over his shoulder as Makoto tore the pack open with his teeth, rolled the condom on his stiff prick and reached for the lube.

On a whim, Haru rolled onto his back. He wanted to see Makoto properly.

Their eyes locked. Makoto’s expression softened. Haru lying there like that, gasping and shaking slightly in anticipation, blue eyes filled with desire, was an incredible sight. Makoto swore in his mind he would never forget it.

As Makoto leaned in to a kiss, Haru met him halfway. He could distantly taste the sweetness of artificial strawberry on Makoto’s tongue before the bassist pulled away.

Makoto reached out and took Haru’s hand, pulling it towards him and turning it palm up. He poured a generous amount of lube on the awaiting fingers, smirked and guided Haru’s hand to his cock.

Haru bit his lip as he let Makoto use his hand to spread the substance with slow, steady strokes. He was yet again taken aback by the duality in Makoto. There was something familiarly gentle about the way Makoto took care of Haru’s enjoyment and safety; he was not in a hurry when it came to preparing and making sure they’d use protection. But at the same time, there was a constant dark undertone in Makoto’s eyes, ready to take over as soon as Haru as much as implied he was ready.

The gaze had a similar effect on Haru as the sound of the bass did; it took over his whole body, vibrating through him, making him feel entirely exposed and caressed, even without actual touching.

One quirk of an eyebrow from Makoto, one squeeze of a hand from Haru, and they both knew the other one was saying yes.

Makoto shoved Haru’s away and grabbed the back of his thighs, lifting the boy’s hips up from the mattress with one swift, strong move. Haru had just enough time to settle his calves on Makoto’s shoulders and take a sharp breath, before he could feel a push; a shocking, overwhelming intrusion to his body, yet somehow more fulfilling than anything he had experienced with another human being before.

Makoto stilled to wait for a bit, and in his hazed mind Haru realized the dick probably wasn’t even halfway in yet. He also realized he must have had an telling expression on his face, since Makoto’s eyes were glued on him, fascinated and observant.

”How do you feel?” Makoto whispered hoarsely.
Haru took a breath. ”Mmh. Fine. More.”

Makoto sank deeper. Haru’s fingers dug into the mattress and his eyebrows knit together, which made Makoto immediately stop again.

”Stop hesitating”, Haru complained.
”I’m not. I’m taking it slow.” Makoto’s voice was sweet again.
Haru tried to inch his legs into a different position on Makoto’s shoulders to pull the boy closer. ”I’ve waited long enough already”, he murmured, a whole new kind of desperate tone in his voice. ”Come on, Makoto.”

Makoto couldn’t help his immediate honest reaction, which was to smile and push. He gasped in unison with Haru; he was in, all the way inside of his most beloved person, and it felt amazing.

”I never thought I’d hear you beg for me”, he chuckled, a little bit out of breath because of all the incredible sensations running through his body.
”I didn’t – that wasn’t –” Haru began, but shut up as Makoto pulled back a little and pushed back in again.

Haru’s eyes screw shut and his mouth was slightly open, taking sharp breaths as Makoto held his grip on him and kept moving back and forth in a slow pace.

”I’m, ah –” Haru tried again, but then abandoned the idea of speaking and continued making quiet moans instead.

Makoto kept the rhythm slow and steady, reading the expressions on Haru’s face like sheet music, finding out what drew the prettiest sounds out of the boy. After a while of experimenting, Makoto found the key. When he pushed at a certain angle, Haru’s mouth fell open and he threw his head to the side, the usually so restrained and stoic voice suddenly high-pitched and breathy.

There, Makoto thought, smirking and aiming to the same spot again with a bit more force.

Haru cried out.

The loud noise coming from his mouth startled Haru awake from his euphoria. He brought a hand on his mouth, only to immediately feel his leg slipping off Makoto’s shoulder as Makoto reached to remove the hand. The hand was pinned to the mattress, the fingers of their hands interlocking. Haru opened his eyes to look into Makoto’s; there was an captivating glow in them, a fire that was finally let loose.

”I want to hear it”, Makoto said with a soft growl that made shivers run down Haru’s body.
Haru only closed his lips tighter and shook his head.

Makoto was having none of it. He leaned down, pushing Haru’s leg that was still on his shoulder until the boy was almost doubled over. His lips brushed against Haru’s, which immediately softened and opened again to accept a kiss, turning it more passionate than Makoto had intended to make it. Humming contently into the kiss, Makoto rolled his hips again. A sound came from Haru’s throat and flowed through his open lips.

”You heard me expressing my feelings for you today”, Makoto said, leaning back up again. ”Let me hear you do the same.”

Then, without pausing to wait for an answer from Haru, he started thrusting harder with an increased speed, pounding into the velvet depth and drawing more sounds from the swimmer, until they were no more repressed and shameful, but loud and desperate.

”Yes, Haru”, Makoto murmured, not sure if Haru could even hear him over his own voice. ”Don’t hold back... Let me hear it...”

The grip of Haru’s fingers that were entwined with Makoto’s was tightening, his other hand fighting to find a good enough grip on the sheets. He could not think anymore; the world was just him and Makoto and the sparks of excitement that flew through his body with each movement they made. Who cared if he was obscenely loud?

Makoto’s ears rushed. At any other day before, he would’ve blushed red even thinking about Haru becoming such an indecent mess underneath him, but now there was nothing to feel modest about because it was happening and it was Haru and he couldn’t believe it felt so perfect.

His own breathing became rough and erratic, his own vocalization of pleasure joining Haru’s.

He leaned forward over Haru’s body again. His mouth hung open and he gasped for air at the curve of Haru’s neck. ”Are you –”
”Yes”, Haru groaned.

Makoto snaked his hand between their bodies, his fingers finding drops of stickiness where Haru’s hard dick was pressed against their stomachs. He took it into his hand, stroking as in time with his thrusts as he could. Haru could swear the rest of his sanity left with those strokes, leaving him with nothing but the intense feeling of being overstimulated, pleasured, loved.

Their mouths joined in a messy kiss, until it wasn’t as much kissing as it was sloppy panting against each other.

”Ma – ko –” Haru couldn’t finish the word before his body jolted and he broke into wordless cries as he came all over his stomach and Makoto’s, making Makoto moan with either the way his body clenched around him, or with sheer arousal of seeing his lover come, or both.

Makoto gave a few more rough thrusts, the last one slamming deep into Haru and throwing him over the edge too. He groaned and gasped through his orgasm, body merging into one with Haru’s, twitching and shivering and abandoning all self-control.

Finally, he melt against Haru, boneless and weak.

They took several minutes just to catch their breaths. Spent bodies slowly calmed down. Fingers loosened their tight grips and began to give gentle caresses instead.

Haru turned his head so he could lay his lips on Makoto’s earlobe, his nose burying into the soft hair. He kept his eyes closed and just concentrated on the feeling. He wanted to say something, to somehow tell Makoto how much he felt right now, but at the same time he knew he would never have enough words to describe it – and besides, he was pretty sure Makoto could already tell.

Makoto came back from his high slowly, dropping small kisses on Haru’s shoulders, neck and chin, until diving into a proper kiss on the mouth. It was a long and soft one, enough to convince Haru that yes, Makoto did know exactly how he felt.

They parted and just looked at each other.

Makoto decided against saying anything, too. He just marveled at the look in Haru’s eyes, foggy and exhausted, but happy.

He was still inside; he was reluctant of pulling away since it would mark the end of this moment, but he also knew he’d have give Haru space to recover. So he slid out as gently as he could, still earning an uncomfortable yet quite cute crinkle of a nose from Haru. He took the condom off and tossed it into a trash can, before crawling back to glue their bodies together.

”We should go get cleaned up”, Makoto said, but showed no interest in actually getting out of the bed. Instead, he nuzzled Haru’s neck and wrapped an arm around his waist.
”In a minute”, answered Haru, fingers playing lazily on the skin of Makoto’s back.

They’d get up soon and probably take a bath, possibly together. But right now, the best place to be was right here, just like this.


In the morning, Haru slowly awoke to a sound he didn’t quite recognize at first. It was familiar to him, but it lacked its typical loudness and depth. He opened his eyes and saw his room, the morning light and Makoto sitting on the floor in his boxers, leaning his back against the edge of the bed, the bass in his lap.

Makoto played the instrument softly, without an amp, just feeling the faint vibrations of the strings. The rhythm was slow and hazy, very fitting to the feeling of having just woken up.

The bassist heard the sheets ruffling, but didn’t stop and turn to look. Soon, arms were wrapped around his bare chest from behind. He smiled to himself.

Haru didn’t say anything. He just lied on his stomach, resting his chin on Makoto’s shoulder and looking at how his fingers moved on the bass.

”Did I wake you up?” Makoto asked, no pause on the riff.
Haru disregarded the question. ”It sounds so different now”, he mumbled.
”Of course, it’s not amplified”, chuckled Makoto.
”It’s not just that.”

They were silent for a moment, before Haru asked: ”Which song is that? I can’t tell when it’s just the bass.”
Makoto smiled again. ”Guess.”
Haru’s arms tightened around him. ”My song.”
”It has a name, but yes”, Makoto uttered a soft laugh.
Haru didn’t even blink. ”But it is my song.”

There was no hesitation in Haru’s voice, no embarrassment. It was just a simple fact; there was a song that was his. Everything Makoto felt for him was described in a few minutes of music, and nothing about it really felt strange anymore.

Haru wondered how it was possible for this to feel so natural. Here he was, naked in his bed and holding onto Makoto, skin against skin, as if this was how he woke up every day. To be honest, he hoped it was just the first of many mornings together like this.

The only thing he wanted to eventually change was that hopefully someday, preferably soon, he would wake up to a song that didn’t describe a shy one-sided love, but a fulfilling, returned one.

”Come back to bed”, Haru murmured into Makoto’s ear.
Shivers run through Makoto’s spine. The smile didn’t leave his lips. ”You don’t like the bass hogging my attention?”
”I don’t.”

Makoto laid the bass carefully back into its case and crawled under the covers next to Haru. He was greeted with enthusiastic hands and a series of kisses that started out slow, but picked up the pace and intensity soon.

One of Haru’s legs wrapped around Makoto’s. ”Encore?” Haru mumbled. His tone was calm, casual. His movements weren’t.
”Anything you want”, Makoto said.

The soft tone of Makoto’s voice made Haru stop and lean back a bit. They shared the kind of gaze that let them read each other’s minds. The green eyes were full of affection. The blue ones softened at the sight.

”I’m happy”, Makoto confessed with an almost inaudible voice, ”that we’re right where we are now.”
Haru swallowed and nodded. ”From now on, I’ll come to all of your gigs”, he said.

Makoto let the eye contact linger for a few more seconds, until he wrapped his arms tighter around Haru and smirked, letting the soft moment slip into something more playful. ”But I’m going to be playing the bass instead of you”, he said. ”Are you sure you’re okay with that?”
”I am.” Haru’s hands slid down Makoto’s chest, down his abs, tracing his hipbones. ”I’ll get my turn afterwards.”

Makoto pushed Haru onto his back and closed the distance between their bodies. Hands wandered, nails dug into skin, hips collided, while they shared a long, deep kiss.

”You will”, Makoto promised with a quiet, rough voice. ”And it will be a whole different show.”

Haru had nothing to say to that, partly because he was no longer interested in speaking, and partly because after last night, he knew that Makoto was indeed more than capable on putting up one hell of a performance. In more ways than one.

Haru hoped Makoto would never run out of songs to write.

Makoto knew that with Haru, he wouldn’t.