Shouta is caught in a state somewhere on the edge between dream and consciousness, eyes half-closed, dark lashes lightly brushing against the pillow that he’s burying his face into. He feels Hizashi’s breath against the back of his neck, soft and warm, where his nose is nuzzled deeply into the mass of Shouta’s untamed black curls.
Despite the mild daze that he finds himself in, he can’t help feeling a distinct sense of déjà-vu.
It’s in the way Hizashi’s bare chest is pressed up against the curve of his back, their bodies perfectly aligned for Hizashi’s heat to seep into his skin at every point of contact, the way Hizashi’s arms are loosely wrapped around his waist, hands resting on his lower stomach. It’s in the burn in his thighs and the familiar ache in his heart, dulled by the years, yet a constant presence that he can’t ever seem to fully escape.
Bits and pieces of frayed memories are flashing across his hazy mind, older fragments blending in with the new. It almost feels like it was just yesterday that they’d fallen into bed together for the first time, a mess of tangled limbs and hungry, drunken kisses.
In reality, a full year had passed since he had let Hizashi take him home that night.
They had never acknowledged it, never talked about it, never laid hands on each other again. Not until last night, anyway.
Ignoring what had happened between them had always come so much easier to Hizashi, who had, without doubt, brushed it all off as an unfortunate mistake. Meaningless. Forgettable.
Shouta, in contrast, hadn’t even bothered trying to keep the images from playing in his head, dreaming with his eyes open, holding each precious detail close. After all, there’s no point in deceiving himself. On some days, he cherishes the ghost of every touch that Hizashi had graced him with. On others, he curses himself for his own weakness, for allowing himself to get a fleeting taste of something he had known perfectly well he could never truly have.
It had merely taken Hizashi a single heavy-lidded glance, one suggestive touch, Hizashi’s long, slender fingers playfully teasing him through the worn fabric of his sweatpants as they’d been about to leave the early birthday party that Hizashi’s colleagues at the station traditionally throw him every year, the weekend before the date, to make him cave in all over again. While he hadn’t paid much attention to how excessively Hizashi had taken advantage of the many offers he had received to pay for his drinks, Shouta is certain that they both must have had quite a few too many last night.
He feels his face burn with hot shame, remembering how eagerly he’d bent over for Hizashi, spread his legs open, taken his cock over and over whenever Hizashi had stirred from his light, post-coital slumber, emerald green stare as intoxicating as the liquid courage running through Shouta’s veins.
Biting his bottom lip and forcing his tired eyes open a little further, he turns his head and reluctantly glances over his shoulder. Shouta’s gaze meets Hizashi’s in the semi-darkness of the room, his pretty, sharp features illuminated by the moonlight that is filtering into the room through the small gaps in blinds, his long hair shimmering in all shades of white and gold. He almost looks ethereal, Shouta can’t help thinking to himself, out of this world.
Silence stretches out between them, an unspoken question hanging in the air, heavy and tangible, and the moment that Hizashi speaks, the moment that Hizashi’s fingertips start gently tracing Shouta’s spine, all the way down to the small of his back, his ass, his inner thighs, stained with Hizashi’s release, where it had been dripping from him not too long ago, he knows that he’s lost.
“I want you…”
The wet sounds of Hizashi’s fingers languidly slicking up his growing erection somewhere behind his back make Shouta’s skin prickle with insatiable need, built up over a decade of loving and longing too deeply to resist.
“We shouldn’t,” Shouta forces himself to say as his body betrays him, instinctively arches back into Hizashi’s featherlight touches, gravitating towards Hizashi the way he always does. It’s nothing but pretence and empty words, hypocritical after everything that he had asked Hizashi to do to him earlier.
I want you, too.
“Yeah…” Hizashi breathes against the shell of his ear, nipping and licking, hissing with arousal when Shouta wordlessly pushes himself down on his cock. With how well Hizashi had fucked him loose what can’t have been more than an hour ago, there’s no need for them to waste any time opening him up. In a way, Shouta is grateful. He wouldn’t want any of that right now, the sweetness of another drawn-out foreplay, the gentleness of Hizashi’s fingers in him creating the illusion that this was anything more than sex.
A low, sleepy moan escapes his parted lips, still red and swollen from the frantic kisses they’d shared throughout the night, when Hizashi lightly bites down on his shoulder, then apologetically sucks and licks at the sensitive skin there to appease him. After a few minutes of kissing and fondling every inch of Shouta’s body within his reach, Hizashi props himself up on one elbow, the new position allowing him to hold Shouta down, one side of his face being pressed into the mattress.
The feeling of Hizashi completely bottoming out inside of him, his large cock stuffing him to the brink, makes Shouta’s eyes roll back in his head with pleasure. He’s impatient for the new onslaught of Hizashi’s thrusts, no matter how dirty and cheap he’ll feel in the morning, once his mind will begin to clear from exhaustion and the last remnants of alcohol that must still be trickling through his system.
Hizashi, however, seems to have different plans.
He takes it slow, experimentally pulls all the way out of Shouta, then carefully slides back inside. Shouta groans at the sensation, relishing in the slight rawness he feels at the penetration. Biting his lip to stifle some of his louder cries as Hizashi begins to rock into him at a languid, steady pace, he keeps his empty gaze fixated on the wall across from him. Even though he can’t afford for his thoughts to drift off into that direction, it’s hard to keep himself from imagining that this is love when Hizashi takes care of him like this, each movement soft and sensual.
Hizashi’s hips collide with Shouta’s ass in hot, wet slaps, each thrust driving home, the swollen tip of Hizashi’s length rubbing up against his prostate, the intimacy of Hizashi’s embrace grating on his sanity. Their moans and breathless pants sound lewd in the peaceful quiet of the bedroom, mixing with the rhythmic creaking of bed springs underneath.
Debating if he should turn around and roll on top of Hizashi, demand of him to stop messing around and finally fuck him in earnest, to make him get up on all fours and cry for Hizashi to give it to him harder, he digs his nails into Hizashi’s forearm with a low growl.
“Shhh,” Hizashi tries to help him relax, tone soothing.
He firmly grabs Shouta’s chin with his free hand and leans down to press his lips on top of Shouta’s. For a second, Hizashi’s thrusts falter ever so slightly, something about their deepening kisses seemingly throwing him off balance, but he catches himself soon enough, fucking into Shouta with a little more urgency than before.
Once Hizashi appears to trust that Shouta has no intention of withdrawing from their kiss, he hesitantly lets go of his jaw, hands roaming across the broad expanse of Shouta’s chest and abs, tracing the defined v of his hips until his skilled fingers finally curl around Shouta’s throbbing erection, oversensitive to the touch after how many times Hizashi had gotten him off earlier that night.
Merely a few staggering thrusts later, Shouta’s vision finally whites out in pleasure, his whole body tensing up, toes curling, skin burning and tingling at the sensation of Hizashi’s finger dipping into the slit at the pulsing head of his cock, voice breaking halfway through a throaty moan. His shivering body clenching down on Hizashi’s dick in return, Shouta drags him over the edge with him half a second later.
He screws his eyes shut and throws back his head with a weak moan as Hizashi’s cum spreads inside of him, unintentionally offering his neck to Hizashi, who almost instantly latches onto the patch of smooth, exposed skin, nipping and sucking hungrily.
It’s the thought of waking up the next morning, covered all over in Hizashi’s marks that mean nothing to Hizashi and everything to Shouta for the whole world to see, that ends up being the final straw.
Even though he hurries to hide his face deeply into his pillow as he feels his shoulders begin to shake, a flood of dry sobs bubbling up his throat, it’s too late to stifle the pitiful noise that falls from his lips the moment that Hizashi pulls out of him. It leaves him feeling empty and overcome with a sudden rush of cold, chilling him to the bone.
His body goes completely still, lips pressed together so tightly it hurts.
If it wasn’t for the way that every fibre of his being had gone on high alert the very second that his blank facade had started cracking and crumbling on the edges, he might have missed Hizashi’s fingertips lightly grazing his shoulder, as if approaching a spooked animal, a silent plea for his permission to touch.
“Shouta...” Hizashi whispers against the nape of his neck, voice laced with concern, bordering on panic.
“Are you in pain? Did I—”
At first, Shouta remains quiet, briefly considers his next words, but after 15 years of carefully avoiding the truth, he can’t seem to bring himself to feed Hizashi off with yet another blatant lie.
“Not the kind of pain that you can fix for me.”
“Why can’t I try?” Hizashi pushes, clearly refusing to content himself with Shouta’s vague response.
The sincere, unsuspecting concern in his voice makes Shouta’s heart constrict in his chest.
“When I followed you home a year ago, I knew where this was going. I knew that I should have put my foot down before it got to the point of no turning back, but I didn’t, and I prayed to God that it wouldn’t change things between us. Now, all that I can think about is how much I wish that after what happened that night you’d touch me in a different way. That you’d touch me at all , except while you’re drunk off your ass again.”
“I’m not drunk, Shouta—“
“You woke up in the middle of the night, hungover and horny and I happened to be right there. That’s all,” he interrupts mechanically. The vulnerability evident in his voice fuels his sudden compulsion to run and salvage whatever may be left of his dignity.
“Maybe if you actually heard me out for once, you’d understand.”
There’s a fire raging in Hizashi’s gentle gaze now, fierce and all-consuming, shutting Shouta up in an instant.
“Shouta, I barely drank enough to get a little tipsy . It was all an act, I— Ever since you snuck out of my bed the morning after the party last year, this whole time , you haven’t as much as looked at me twice. I’m clearly not good enough for you unless you’re too fucking wasted to care who gets you off, but I thought… I thought if I somewhat kept myself together and woke up before you’d run out on me this time… if I got to hold you and make you breakfast and bring up the courage to admit how I really feel about you, then maybe you’d at least consider…”
Somehow, Hizashi has the audacity to look genuinely surprised when Shouta slaps his hand away, twists around until he’s fully facing Hizashi and shoves at his chest, eyes ablaze with exasperation at what must have been the most ridiculous thing he’s ever heard in his life.
“ You ,” Shouta starts, but struggles to find the right words to express his utter disbelief. “You came up with this whole ridiculous plan to what— woo me? And then you went and decided that this could wait an entire year ? You made me wait an entire year, I can’t believe you—”
“I needed an excuse for us to get drunk!”
Briefly, Shouta wonders if may need to get his hearing checked since Hizashi couldn’t actually have said something this outrageously dense. It takes him every last bit of strength that he has left in his body to restrain himself from burying his face in his hands in disbelief.
“You do realize that you could have asked me out for drinks any day after work, the weekend after the party, anytime , Hizashi!”
“Excuse me, Shouta , but I don’t remember you giving me any reason to feel particularly confident about making a move? Do correct me if I’m wrong.”
Shouta averts his eyes, stubbornly scowling at the ceiling. Of course Hizashi isn’t wrong. That doesn’t mean he’s going to concede this easily.
“Hey,” Hizashi eventually murmurs against the crook of his neck, one hand carefully cupping Shouta’s cheek, “Why are we even fighting?”
“Less than a minute into… whatever this is, and you’re already admitting that you can’t handle me?”
Before Shouta gets another chance at dodging the subject with his own counter questions, hiding his nervousness behind tired eyes and false sass, Hizashi leans all the way over him and pulls him into another kiss, so tender it makes Shouta’s heart ache and stutter in his chest.
“First of all, as has been proven last night, I can handle you just fine. Secondly, is it really that hard for you to tell me that you want to be with me, too?
Relief washes over him in calm, gentle waves, a sense of weightlessness that he has never experienced until this moment as his entire world begins to shift and reassemble. Everything seems brighter now, sweeter, simpler. It feels like he can breathe easy, when, before, he’d been barely hanging on.
“I love you, you know,” Hizashi adds, uncharacteristically quiet, almost as an afterthought. As if he doesn’t quite understand that, to Shouta, hearing those words is all that he has ever wanted and everything he had accepted he would never have.
“I’ve loved you for so long—”
“ Shut up ,” Shouta cuts him off, throat tight with emotions that he can’t express.
He grabs Hizashi by the back of his neck and pulls him all the way down into his arms, presses him into the crook of his neck, eyes closed and nose nuzzled into Hizashi’s hair, breathing in his scent in deep, calming breaths. Shouta has never been good at this. Opening up, leaving himself vulnerable, finding the right words to say. Instead, he holds Hizashi tightly, so tightly it probably hurts a little, but Hizashi doesn’t seem to mind.
“Okay,” he simply whispers back into the silence.
Shouta can practically hear the indulgent smile on Hizashi’s face in the fondness of his voice, the significance of his unquestioning acceptance of Shouta’s struggle starting to fully sink in.
In the morning, Shouta resolves, he’ll tell him.
He possessively swings his leg across Hizashi’s longer, more slender ones and hopes that Hizashi understands the unspoken words, trapped on the tip of his tongue, the way Hizashi always does when Shouta finds himself paralyzed by the weight of his own suppressed emotions.
For now, at least, he’ll let his body do the talking.