“We should have sex.”
Yuuma fills his lungs so quickly with air that it feels like he could burst from the suddenness of it all. “What?” He asks dumbly, because truly, he had to have misheard, or perhaps he’d simply hallucinated the whole thing; neither fact would garner much surprise from him with how often he daydreams about far away worlds and spirits and whatever else his mind refuses to let go of.
“I said ,” Vector continues, mildly annoyed but mostly just embarrassed, and it’s kind of a good look for him. The mortification of his own words, his own suggestion, has turned his face a bright red that creeps down his neck and below the collar of his shirt. “I said we should have sex.”
And it’s just as startling as the first time he’d heard it. Such words coming from such a familiar mouth — not just any mouth, but Vector’s mouth — is almost enough to send him into cardiac arrest. Resisting the urge to monitor his pulse, Yuuma cracks open his lips and croaks out a very weak, very winded sounding, “What?”
Vector gives a stare that could melt ice, or maybe it could freeze a human over. He’s hot and cold at the same time, and undeniably dangerous. But he isn’t a bad person, Yuuma reminds himself, and he would never hurt him, especially considering he’d just asked to have sex with him .
He shifts nervously as Vector scoots himself closer on the couch, popcorn bowl discarded on the coffee table and leaving his hand free to perch itself awkwardly on Yuuma’s thigh. “Do you want to?” The former Barian emperor asks, because consent matters and apparently Vector knows this well enough, and his hand lightens into a more soothing touch. “We don’t have to. I just thought—,”
“No!” Yuuma shrinks back when Vector looks a little wounded, and hurriedly adds on, “No, I mean I do want to! I-I mean, if you want to… I don’t — I don’t mind… ”
“But do you really want to?”
Yuuma eyes Vector’s embarrassed blush again, lowering his gaze to where it disappears under his school shirt. He eyes Vector’s silky red hair, his long eyelashes, his full lips. He isn’t feminine, of course, his hips thin and his limbs long and gangly, but he has a certain beauty to him that’s undeniable. He’s pretty, Yuuma thinks not for the first time, and he’s his best friend. He’s his boyfriend . He’s a lot of things to Yuuma, and he could be a lot more if Yuuma just allows him to be.
So, “Yeah,” he decides, and says a bit more firmly than before, “I want to.” It’s like a vow, apparently, like signing away his soul to the devil, because suddenly Vector is grinning something terrifying and moving to kiss Yuuma with his stupidly perfect, stupidly pink lips.
They kiss for a while, simple mouth-on-mouth contact that slowly progresses into opened lips and slippery, fumbling tongues. Yuuma runs a hand through Vector’s hair, reveling in the softness under his fingers as it slips through them like spun gold. Vector is like the sun, all warm and inviting but dangerous if one gets too close, and Yuuma loves that about him; he loves the nerves Vector sends into overdrive in his stomach, loves the way a single glance can reduce him to putty to be shaped and molded into the palm of the other boy’s hand as he pleases. Being with him is invigorating, intoxicating. Yuuma can’t get enough.
But that’s just the thing: he doesn’t know how to get more .
It’s all clumsy when Vector unbuttons Yuuma’s school shirt. It’s shaking hands and faltering kisses when Yuuma runs his palms over Vector’s torso, snaking under his loosened shirt and touching the bare skin there for the first time. Sure, they’d changed in front of each other before, and they’ve touched and groped a few times since dating (and even a little before that too, because Shingetsu had always been really special to him too), and so each of them knew the other perhaps better than they knew themselves. Yuuma knew Vector’s sides were ticklish, so he avoided them when he pressed upwards. Vector knows Yuuma’s nipples are unbelievably sensitive, so he rubs and teases them once he’s got Yuuma’s shirt open.
It’s good, very good, but it reeks of inexperience after too much time has passed with so little happening.
Yuuma shifts to hover over Vector, who breaks from the kiss suddenly to eye him almost warily, as though he were a caged animal waiting for a predator to strike. Yuuma doesn’t particularly feel like a predator, nor does he view Vector as the prey, but he understands a bit of what the other boy is feeling. He’s nervous too, after all.
“Don’t be nervous,” he tries to comfort Vector. “People do this all the time.”
Vector scoffs like he couldn’t believe Yuuma thought he needed to be comforted at all, but he relaxes nonetheless. “I know,” he mutters, “I wasn’t born yesterday.”
“We don’t have to. You can change your mind whenever.”
“Do you want me to change my mind?”
Yuuma swallows. “...I don’t know, honestly. Probably not? But if you do, I won’t mind. I don’t want to push you.”
Apparently this was the right thing to say, because Vector is pulling Yuuma closer and leaning back into the cushions. It’s quite an appealing invitation, if Yuuma is being completely honest with himself, and so he doesn’t hesitate at all as he settles himself between Vector’s legs, their hips just a few breaths apart. A bit daringly does he tug the blonde’s legs to rest over his thighs, and then Vector is laughing a little breathlessly, his blush returning with a vengeance.
“I’m pretty sure you’re supposed to do this without clothes on,” he says sarcastically, rolling his eyes skyward. He looks the perfect picture of control despite the way his hair is fanned out below him on the couch.
Yuuma is suddenly very grateful that his family is out for the evening. It gives him more than enough time to experiment with the situation, like now as he curiously grinds his groin into Vector’s.
All of his breath leaves him in an instant and Vector is gasping beneath him and clutching at his shoulders. When Yuuma manages to open his eyes, having apparently closed them when the sensation of intense pleasure hit him like a bag of bricks to his libido, he finds Vector’s violet ones wide and just a little bit desperate looking.
He asks, “Do that again?” and it’s a little bit surreal to have Vector asking him for anything rather than demanding it.
Yuuma just nods and chooses not to comment on it. He doesn’t want to ruin the moment. That or he’s just incredibly horny all of the sudden. Either way, he doesn’t waste any time in bringing their hips together again, a bit harder this time now that he knows what to expect. Vector didn’t, apparently, because a strangled little sound escapes from the back of his throat.
A touch concerned, Yuuma pauses. “Good?”
Vector scowls even harder, somehow, then with unwavering determination grips at Yuuma’s waist, pulls it down, and rolls his hips upwards to connect them again. Hard.
It’s too good. Unable to help himself, Yuuma does it again and again and again , craving the friction, craving Vector. He wants and he wants , but it still feels like he can’t get enough.
“Off,” Vector says quite suddenly, his thumbs dipping into the waistband of Yuuma’s uniform trousers insistently. He doesn’t ask nicely nor does he look particularly hesitant when he says it, but Yuuma obeys without complaint, too desperate to mind. He reaches for his buckle and undoes the clasp quickly, then as he’s got his buttons popped finds Vector’s fingers tugging the fabric hastily from his hips.
Left in nothing but his briefs, Yuuma frowns playfully and slaps lightly at one of Vector’s thighs. “This isn’t fair. You do it too.”
Vector huffs and unbuttons his pants, then waits impatiently for Yuuma to realize he has to help him take them off since his position makes manual removal difficult. Yuuma apologizes under his breath when he accidentally pulls Vector’s underwear down a little bit, but Vector just mutters a curse and pushes them down over his hips for Yuuma to remove as well.
And then suddenly Vector is in nothing but his school shirt and Yuuma has never been more aroused in his life when he finds Vector’s cock erect and already weeping precum. Distantly he wonders if Vector was hard even before he’d asked to do this, but there’s more important things to focus on now.
Like… anything that has to do with their dicks. Literally anything .
Before Yuuma can decide just what he wants to do, however, Vector is reaching down to pull out his own cock, thick and heavy with desire and teenage hormones and whatever the fuck else Vector’s bare body has done to him. He’s so sexy, so lewd and all lain out on Yuuma’s couch like a blanket, his fingers gliding teasingly along the length of Yuuma’s cock, and oh, yeah, that feels fucking amazing .
“Fuck,” he curses aloud, nearly falling forward onto Vector when the other spits on his hand and wraps it around him fully, giving an experimental tug. Yuuma feels like he’s going to die at any moment. Vector was really going to murder him this time and he was going to die , and gods above was he one hundred percent okay with that.
Vector seems a bit smug when he begins jerking Yuuma off, his hands moving like this was nothing, like he’d done this a hundred times before, and Yuuma realizes he probably has , that Vector was probably doing to him what he usually does to himself. Every swipe of his thumb over the head, every minuscule twist of his hand, even the pace — it was all muscle memory, and holy hell, that was so incredibly hot.
Trying to remember himself, to focus, find his manners, find literally any possible train of thought to cling to to ground himself to reality and not the selfish feeling of Vector’s hand on him, Yuuma reaches for Vector’s own waiting cock and hesitates only a moment before curling his fingers around it. It’s not the largest thing, but then again, neither was Yuuma’s. They were young, so very young, and fuck, they really shouldn’t be doing this, should they? But god, it was good and they both wanted it, so it was okay, right?
In the heat of the moment, Yuuma finds that he really doesn’t care.
“Come closer,” he says, pulling Vector by his waist to bring their hips even closer until their arousals can touch. Vector frowns when Yuuma pulls his hand away from his cock, then furrows his brows when he bats Vector’s own hand away from his. He opens his mouth to say something. Then he’s left gaping when Yuuma presses their cocks together, closes his hand over them both, and strokes .
There’s a lot of cursing, then, because Vector has found his voice again and he sure uses it, seeming to use words to hide how badly he’s trying not to moan. It’s almost funny, actually, but Yuuma doesn’t have it in him to laugh; he’s too busy trying not to moan himself. He’s a bit less successful at first, and just as he’s starting to get the hang of it Vector has started making a strange, “ mmm ,” sound, humming with his lips pressed firmly shut to keep from making too much noise.
Yuuma does laugh, then, because it’s kind of really unsexy and hilarious while somehow simultaneously being the most arousing noise he’s ever heard in his life.
Vector immediately snaps his attention to the laughing, his eyes dark with lust and anger, the combination more than a little bit terrifying. Yuuma strokes them a little bit harder. “Stop la— aaah..! — s-stop laughing,” he hisses, squeezing his eyes shut at the feeling of Yuuma’s hand, his quickening strokes and moaning , moaning for Yuuma.
“You’re just really cute,” Yuuma tells him, completely honest, completely reckless because who in their right mind tells Vector that he’s cute? But Vector just flushes red and averts his gaze, awkward and embarrassed. It’s indeed very cute.
It doesn’t take long after that; Vector orgasms first just a few short minutes later, his thigh muscles clenching and twitching and his mouth opened wide but without a single sound escaping, and at the sight Yuuma cums only moments after. Their seed mingles on his hand, drips down onto Vector’s shirt and a little strip of his exposed stomach, and Yuuma resists the urge to lick it because that would probably be a little too weird.
He kind of wants to lick Vector himself too. Lick his cock clean of cum, lick into him — perhaps next time.
“So,” Vector says once he’s caught his breath. “That was…”
“Something,” Yuuma finishes. “It was really something.” He leans in to press a lazy kiss to Vector’s utterly kissable lips, savoring his post-orgasm taste which, in all honesty, isn’t at all different than his usual taste. It just feels different somehow. A good different, but different nonetheless.
Vector kisses back, slow and languid and unhurried. When they’ve parted he says simply, “I liked it.”
Then Yuuma says, “Let’s do it again,” and Vector sighs, rolling his eyes in exasperation, but can’t keep the fond smile off of his face as he leans in to kiss Yuuma again.