An Expression of Love

“So what’s your upcoming job going to be?”

Wataru sips on his cup of water next to a few vending machines in the empty StarPro office lounge. It's a nice refresher after his morning meeting, feeling the coolness run down into his tummy. He’s not expected at his next job until later in the afternoon, so he’s grateful to be able to squeeze in some time to talk with a beloved one.

“It’s a little far out from ES.” Wataru taps the link Shu has just sent to his phone, scrolling idly as his amplified voice explains what he can within his contract. “I’m thinking of staying at a hotel beforehand, instead of commuting the day of. The flight back is draining enough to think about, even on a jet.”

“Fufufu… this must be fate.” Wataru smiles at his phone, looking fondly at the familiar scenery.

“I think this is a common enough occurrence to attribute it to something other than fate.”

“No, no.” Wataru raises his phone next to his ear, turning off the speaker function. “I think it must be. That is, I was thinking of visiting my parents lately, and your next job location just so happens to be nearby.”

“Your paren- Ah.” Wataru imagines the sleepy features of Shu morphing in recognition. “That’s right. It’s been so long I’ve nearly forgotten all of us visited once.”

“Mm-mm!” Wataru affirms in a Hiyori-like cadence. “If you’d like, you could stay with me instead.”

“Your parents won’t mind?”

While his fellow Eccentrics have visited before, it was when the house was empty—when Dear Mother and Dear Father were out traveling. It isn’t surprising to hear Shu concerned about their potential sleepover, when they would actually be home.

He has nothing to worry about though; if those caregivers of his were kind enough to pluck him from cold, harsh rapids, cradle him beneath their bosoms, and bestow upon him a name full of thought, there is no doubt they would extend the same amount of kindness towards his love. And, well, not to mention, his parents already hosted others before Shu (like Nagisa-kun and a dashing rabbit, for example) with great enthusiasm.

“Not at all. In fact, they’d love to meet you. Especially my mother.”

“Hm? Why your mother?”

“You’ll find out if you stay~”

“You don’t need to bribe me.” Shu sighs over the receiver, the ghost of a chuckle apparent. “The offer is generous of you, thank you. I look forward to meeting with you and your family soon.”

Wataru pouts, recognizing the tone. “You’re turning in already?”

“It’s quite late here. I have a project I need to get to tomorrow.”

“Then it is a shame I must let you go. Until the next time, when the sun is simultaneously exalted and in its fall. I hope we are granted another chance to communicate soon, my love. Lest there be a great wrath that tears this country’s telephone poles asunder, then—weather permitting—I may have to send one of my doves to deliver my correspondence.”

“Please don’t,” Shu says, then he adds, a touch softer, “the poor thing shouldn’t have to endure hibernation-like flights for our frivolous words. But yes, speak to you soon. Good night.”

 

 

———

 

 

Shu doesn’t remember falling asleep, but he awakes, already having landed in the ES airport with the morning rays beaming in full glory. Wataru greets his sluggish state with a hug and a passionate kiss that rivals many movie reunion scenes. Then before he can further get his bearings, he’s whisked away like a tempest wind, off of ES and onto a main railway system.

The grounded transportation likewise makes Shu sleepy, but Wataru keeps him awake by recounting stories they hadn’t had time for during their most recent phone call. And before Shu knows it…

“We’re here!!” Wataru gestures with an open chest and extended arms. A few neighborhood pigeons that were just waddling near his feet fly off, cooing.

Shu clutches his duffel bag closer to his body, squinting when feathers clutter his vision. When the flurry has passed, he gets a better look at the earth-toned, two-story house, sitting idyllically amongst a sizable garden. The Hibiki name plaque has remained pristine.

Stepping into the porch, where Wataru now stands, he takes a breath.

“Are you nervous?”

“A little. They are your parents I’ll be meeting.”

“I assure you they’ll love you.”

His smile is a small salve for his beating heart. Shu exhales. Yes, there’s no need to be nervous. By the time his parents come to the door, he can take another few breaths, and he will be fine. He watches Wataru raise his hand to kno-

“Mother, Father, we have arrived!” Wataru yells as he pushes the door open.

Shu freezes, wide-eyed. His heart pounds at the same rate the footsteps he hears come closer. Wataru gestures at him from within the genkan, and he somehow has the mind to at least step inside and lower his luggage onto the floor.

Wataru’s parents are somewhat short compared to him. They hover just below Shu’s height, sporting colored-but-greying heads. Mrs. Hibiki has short hair while Mr. Hibiki has shoulder length hair and a side strand that’s braided, but other than that, they seem to lack the eccentricities of their child; they encompass the definition of an everyday couple. Although some may raise a brow at a foreign-looking man marrying into a Japanese woman’s family, it doesn’t concern Shu.

Wataru’s mother smiles widely, holding his hand with both of hers : « Hello, it’s nice to meet you. We hear a lot about you from our son. How are you? »

Shu blinks and Wataru smiles.

He almost doesn’t process it, but in a delight, Shu replies back in a polite manner to answer her question before returning to Japanese. “I didn’t know Wataru had a mother who could speak French.”

“Hehe, only a little. My hobby is learning languages. It came in handy when we traveled overseas more.”

“Do you not do so nowadays?”

Wataru’s father answers, “We’re getting a little old to be doing that as often. We mainly travel locally now, but occasionally we will.”

“It’s so lovely to refresh on French,” Mrs. Hibiki muses. “But, oh! Please, do make yourself at home.”

“Thank you for having me.” Shu inclines his head, stepping out of his shoes.

Mr. Hibiki slaps him on the back, with strength that nearly winds him. “Now, now.” He rubs his back and pats him—gentler—and as he guides him to their living room, his tone is fond. “After being in Japan for so long, I get the politeness and all, but we’re pretty lax here. No need for pretenses, boy.”

Wataru finds it amusing that for once, Shu is called a similar nickname he uses for their Natsume.

They have a pleasant chat over tea and a light lunch that leads to Shu divulging more about himself, his relationship with Wataru, and of course, their other boyfriends. One topic leads to another, and soon they discuss their work as idols, to which Wataru boasts about Shu on his behalf. He even ends up goading Shu into performing a short waltz, with his father providing the accompanying music on the piano.

With Kagehira and Rei, Shu finds himself leading more often than not. But with Wataru extending a hand in such a gentlemanly manner, as he usually does, it’s all he can do to smile and lay his hand upon his love’s, curtsying with imaginary fabric. He’s led into the more spacious part of the living room, a couple paces away from the piano, and spun into position.

“Ready, boys?”

After a wordless exchange between Wataru and him (that they have long mastered, being Yumenosaki graduates), Wataru nods at his father before refocusing his attention on him.

A chord, the beginnings of a melody forming, and they begin.

Step, step, step. Shu thinks their wooden floors make it a bit precarious to move around too fluidly while in their socks, but Wataru doesn’t seem impeded, remaining a tall pillar of support as they twirl into more revolutions.

Their palms separate briefly, clasping together again seconds later. There’s something about holding Wataru’s hand, in dance and in life, that Shu can’t get enough of. The comfort of his fingertips against the back of Wataru’s hand, and those fingers wrapping around the side of his own hand in turn. The pad of Shu’s thumb presses against the side of Wataru’s, shifting ever slightly as they continue their steps.

He thinks they might be underdressed. Their hands, that is—though he supposes in clothing as well. The warmth radiating off of each digit that caresses him is searing. It’s not the first time he's felt them like this, yet it continuously surprises him how tender they feel when they’re free of fabric.

Another spin, another series of steps, and then the lower parts of their chests press flush against each other as Shu lets himself dip backwards.

A strand of hair falls from Wataru’s shoulder as he leans with Shu in their final pose. While the sound of struck piano keys decay into silence, they remain staring at one another, lightly exhaling.

He could kiss him. Wataru could lean down further and they would meet lips, or Shu could stretch his neck just a little more—much like the first time they waltzed, during that one afternoon on the school rooftop. Remaining so close to one another in a spontaneous dance together, mutual attraction there, budding, yet just shy of blooming... Most of his hair was tied then, with only his bangs and braid overlapping with the current reality. With the way he’s looking at him now, Shu wonders, he must be reminiscing as well, no?

Mrs. Hibiki dissipates their shared reverie with an enthusiastic series of claps. “That was wonderful! You two were so graceful, even someone unfamiliar with ballroom dance can see your skills.”

Wataru continues supporting Shu’s back as he straightens up from their last position. “Was it to your expectations?”

“Exceeding them, haha!”

Shu is escorted, with a warm hand sliding down to his hip, back to their seats by Wataru. And although their dance and short journey is over, his hand lingers in its hold, making Shu fight a small blush. It doesn’t help that he has to quickly deflect another compliment from his father.

Soon enough, they’re back to talking about various topics until Wataru’s mother notices the hands on the grandfather clock.

“Oh, it’s already time?”

Wataru and Shu watch as Mr. Hibiki stands up, cranes his neck, and double checks. “Yep, looks like it!” He stretches before starting to walk over to the door.

“Are you two heading out somewhere?” Wataru asks.

“Yes, well, we’re off to see your Onee-san.” Mrs. Hibiki catches up to her husband in the entryway, and her son quickly follows. Her husband cracks the door open. “She’s expecting us soon. We should be back by the evening. If there’s anything, you boys can give us a call.”

A few paces from their gate, Mrs. Hibiki waves, and Mr. Hibiki uses his hands as a makeshift megaphone. “Save room for dessert! I heard she made some of your favorite!”

“Oh! Will do!”

After Wataru bids them farewell, closes the door, and sits back down onto the sofa, Shu verbally prods him. “You never said you had an older sister.”

“Ah. No, I don’t,” Wataru says, looking more delicate than usual. “At least, not one… that I know of. Mother and Father just mean a friend that usually pet-sits for us. She doesn’t leave home all that often, so she offers to watch over Jules Ferry and Alfred Dreyfus whenever my parents travel. Of the people outside of my family… she was always very nice to me as a child.”

His head perks up after a comfortable beat of silence.

“Would you like to see them? Jules and Alfred in their room I mean.”

“After your occasional gushing about them,” Shu smiles, getting up from his seat, “it would be nice to meet them in the flesh.”

He gets assaulted with visual stimuli the moment Wataru opens the door for them and he steps in.

Inside of Jules and Alfred’s room is the home of a spectrum of items, in all senses of the word. There's a sizable rug with colored patches making up the rainbow, small children’s toys (some may belong to Wataru and some for the birds), mismatched sets of cushions laying about, rope from above, various perches in odd shapes and sizes hugging the wall and ceiling, and not to mention the very large cages housing the esteemed Jules and Alfred.

The two of them laugh and coo in excitement upon seeing one of their owners return.

Wataru makes a coo back, walking to unlock their cage next to the window.

It doesn’t take long for one of the doves to step up onto his finger—the other merely climbing up and down their opened cage in a giddy.

“I’m so very happy to see you too, Alfred.” Wataru giggles, then looks down to his hand. “And of course, you as well, Jules.”

The sun has risen more, lending its rays to filter through the room. It illuminates Wataru’s moonlight-tinted hair, creating a gorgeous rim light that engulfs more of him when he tilts his head. And when he slightly dips his chin to kiss Jules on the beak, strands of hair—fine as thread—glimmer as they droop over his shoulder. Shu’s heart aches. He almost wants to step toward and reach out to Wataru, to stop him from nuzzling against Jules, to quell the fear that even more of him might disappear before his eyes.

Ka-chick.

Shu watches Wataru through his phone camera preview, feeling his face warm. Wataru’s eyes drift over to the lens of his phone, and he blinks once before his grin grows wider.

“You just looked…” Shu lowers his phone as Wataru walks closer to him, angling it so he can see better. He averts his gaze. “Beautiful, is all.”

Shu hears two sets of flap flaps that land somewhere on Wataru.

Wataru hums, and the birds on him vocalize in an amused manner, as he analyzes the photograph of him. “My, how I envy your eye for capturing subjects like this…” He grows quiet, waiting for Shu to turn his head at him again. And when he does, he gives a gentle look. “Thank you. Though I must say I find you more attractive than I.”

Before Shu can counter, one of the doves flutter-hops from Wataru’s head onto his own. He freezes in place and his shoulders bunch upwards, feeling the claws gain their footing. “Hn!?”

What terrible manners! He does want to be acquainted with them, yes, but they haven’t even had a proper introduction via Wataru. Cozying up against him in his personal space like this…! He gently tilts his head upwards in an attempt to look, but he only feels the bird balance by moving forward.

“Huhehehe!”

Wataru is the one to get a good look at him. “Oho? Alfred, you think Shu has a dashing hair color?”

Shu lowers his shoulders bit by bit, eyeing Jules who is perched upon Wataru’s shoulder. No. The look in those small, beady, calculating eyes- No, absolutely n-

He hops over.

“Wow…” Wataru steps back, admiring the tree his doves have made of Shu. He has a hand to his chin when he exclaims, “Amazing! I think this is the first time they’ve taken such a quick liking to someone new.”

Shu blinks owlishly at him.

“Are you discomforted? Would you like them off?” Wataru tilts his head.

“Well, it is flattering to hear that they are fond of me, but yes, please.”

With some sort of arcane magic, Wataru calls Jules and Alfred off of him and onto his outstretched arm, and Shu eventually gets his proper introduction to Wataru’s pet doves. He watches them play and perform magic tricks with their owner, providing his input when necessary, until the two of them burn what energy they have and retire back in their cage to perch.

“Shall we go to my room, or our room? I’m looking forward to seeing it after so long.”

After such excitement, the thought of also resting in Wataru’s room sounds comfortable. “Lead the way.”

They exit the room and follow the hall to a set of stairs. Wataru’s hair sways back and forth as they climb each step upwards, and when Shu catches a glance of his expression once they reach the landing and start climbing again, he thinks it’s almost child-like the way he grins—it’s contagious.

Wataru’s room is surprisingly plain. Barring the similar small toys (like playing cards and figures) from Jules and Alfred’s room showing, there are no rainbows to be seen, only a sizable room bathed in white, from its curtains, to its walls, to its decor. It almost feels clinical if not for the toys, and the lived-in and unmade futon still lying on the floor.

“Wow, I think everything’s where it used to be.” Wataru beams, taking a quick glance around. “Oh, your luggage! Let me grab it for you.”

Shu can hear the footsteps thumping from outside of the room as he continues to look around.

Though he cannot say for the others, this is the first time he has set foot in here. During their visit that one summer, before the unpleasant wheels of so-called fate began to turn, they had only sought refuge from the sun by lounging downstairs in the living room. They had to get back home soon after Rei and the boy had recovered from their minor heat exhaustion.

What catches his eye is a photo of Wataru and his parents at some sort of carnival. He steps closer, picking it up. The glare of the glass shifts, revealing a younger Wataru holding a gold trophy with his parents behind him, pride beaming on their faces.

While he’s aware of the double-edged sword of equating achievements with self worth, and the sometimes unhealthy pursuit of constantly outdoing oneself, the boy in the photo has one of the purest smiles he’s seen of him. Shu chooses to focus on that as he grins, placing the frame back down in its place. But in doing so, he inadvertently shifts a teddy bear and something clad in white begins to fall.

“Ah-” He gets up from his partial crouch, rotating the item to face up in his hands.

Hm? Where has he seen this before? This doll of a girl in a white dress... Her complexion is pale and pristine, much like the state of her clothes, and the hairs of her head are soft to the touch. Strange. He could have sworn he saw something like her in the living room too, not today, no, but even further back…

The foot thumps return with the sound of a larger thump being made when his bag is dropped on the floor. “Your very own Hibiki Wataru has returned and-”

Shu turns to face Wataru, whose expression he cannot read. It makes him uneasy seeing Wataru so genuinely surprised and silent.

“She was about to fall off the dresser.” He entrusts her to Wataru when he grows closer. “My apologies for handling things absent-mindedly.”

“No, you’re alright.” He gazes down at the doll in his hands.

“Wataru?”

He remains staring, with that same unreadable, almost delicate expression on his face, and when the concern almost boils over to prompt him into asking Wataru if he’s okay, the man moves to settle down on his futon.

Remaining standing starts to feel distant, so Shu takes a seat down next to him.

“I wasn’t expecting to see this here… It did reside in my room for some time, but there was a period where I didn’t want it here anymore. I never could part from it though.”

Shu lets the silence well, waiting for Wataru to fill it once more.

“I may have partially lied earlier about having a sister.”

The admission feels so non-sequitur that Shu is mindful of his volume when he asks, “What do you mean by ‘partially’?”

“…There once was a couple who fell in love. They had many an adventure with one another, flitting around like birds without a home. They sought new experiences, new sights, even the most mundane of them. But one day they decided to settle down, and the couple was blessed with the coming arrival of a girl.”

A part of the doll’s hair is split with Wataru’s finger as he delicately pets her.

“But complications occurred, and who would have been my older sister never had a chance to truly live.”

Shu’s brows slant. “Oh, Wataru. I’m sorry.”

Wataru looks up from the doll and gives him a warm smile. It remains unsubdued when he looks back down. “It was a long time ago. And it would be quite some time until Mother and Father found me and adopted me.” He nudges the doll’s head in a gentle poke.

“This doll was supposed to belong to her before me—that’s why I couldn’t bring myself to throw it away. But I felt a little sad whenever I looked at it, lonely perhaps. I wasn’t pampering her as much as you would Mademoiselle. I think that’s when my parents took to her again and she would appear around the house.

“It’s a shame to let such a pretty doll waste away here. But… if someone I loved, someone I trusted dearly, would look after her, maybe it would be in a happier state?” Wataru places the doll into the gap between his legs. He lingers on her, entertaining the idea before urging Shu for his thoughts with a quirk of the brow and an unsure smile.

Shu stares at Wataru then glances down at his lap for only a moment before speaking. “No, I cannot accept such a sentimental thing. And besides, she’s already being taken care of.”

Wataru raises his other brow.

“If it’s true that the only thing that has moved in this room is her, then it’s safe to say your parents are the ones meticulously maintaining her complexion, hair, and clothing. Had she truly been left alone, with the barest minimum of care, she would be in a far worse state than she is in now.”

Shu scoops the doll by her skirt first, cradling her back as he transfers her over to Wataru’s lap.

“It is clear she belongs here, where her home is.”

“Hm…” Wataru strokes the doll's hair again, musing to himself before he breaks into a laugh. “How silly of me.” He takes hold of the doll with a hand and supports himself as he stands. “To think I wanted to send her away so carelessly.”

He sets her back up on one of his dressers, lying comfortably beside one of the teddy bear plushies. He takes a moment to take in how comfortable she looks before he settles back next to Shu, legs stretched out to the side.

“Thank you.”

Shu blinks when Wataru pecks his cheek.

“You don’t need to thank me, it wouldn’t have felt right to take her.”

“Still.”

Wataru looks down again, and Shu watches an uncommon sight unfold before him. He feels the tip of his pinky be grazed as Wataru’s face colors in what can only be described as a shy dusting of pink.

“Are you feeling tired from your trip?”

Shu is, but not severely so. “No, why do you ask?”

“The evening sky won’t grace us for some time.” The rest of Wataru’s fingers start to slip in between his own, and he peeks at him through his eyelashes. “I would not fault you for desiring a nap before supper.”

Shu angles more of his torso to face Wataru, shifting so that their hands are firmly slotted together. “Tell me what's really on your mind.”

“I worry my request would be taxing.”

“That depends on the request.”

Wataru averts his eyes, layering more pink on his face. “Then, would you…” he breathes, swallowing once and stroking the side of Shu’s index finger with his thumb. He flirts with the idea of looking at him again before he does. “Would you indulge me?”

It's Shu’s time to blush.

Given his demeanor, the skinship, and the location they are in, it’s clear he means that.

“That’s all?” He huffs a smile. Brushing a strand of hair from Wataru’s face into a caress, he leans forward to kiss him. “I would.”

Wataru squeezes their held hands lightly, giving a peck of his own. “I’m not sure we have gloves around, but-”

“That’s not a problem.” Shu says, glancing at his duffel bag sitting near the door.

Wataru cocks his head. “It’s not?”

“Please hold your laughter.”

Wataru watches as Shu pulls away to walk toward his belongings. He doesn’t take long to return with a pair of disposable latex gloves, a towel, and a miniature bottle of lube. Immediately, Wataru brings a fist up to his mouth.

“I said not to laugh!” Shu frowns. “When it comes to you, Rei, Kanata, and the boy, I’ve learned you can never be too prepared!”

Wataru snickers. “I can’t help it, that part of you is adorable.”

“Hmph.” Shu sits down, placing the items within an arm’s reach on the futon. “It seems to me you’ve found your source of indulgence already.”

“Haha, nooo…” Wataru jostles Shu when he puts his body weight into his hug. He nuzzles into his shoulder, pleading, “Would you allow me to be greedier then?”

Shu nudges him off with a shrug, and when he gets a better look at Wataru’s half-lidded eyes, he strokes his cheek and answers him with another kiss. Once he closes his eyes, he feels Wataru hold his neck and the light grazing return—this time with his index finger. He feels his fingernail being delicately stroked before it retreats and accepts the reciprocation Shu gives.

“Mm…” The vibration rumbles against their lips, only stopped by a break for air.

The futon shifts underneath Shu’s hand, with Wataru burrowing underneath, and Shu lifting to descend upon him. In between the gaps made from the relaxed arches of Shu’s digits, Wataru drags, from the middle of Shu’s palm, to where his fingers start to sprout out, scratching with the gentlest of pressure.

It tickles like the tip of Wataru’s tongue against the roof of his mouth, like the hairs tickling his face.

The sensation of nails is replaced with the pads of Wataru’s fingers, gently riding the valley of his palm, outwards until only their fingertips are lingering against one another. He toys with him, lifting and pressing upwards into him as if he were the black and white keys of an inverted piano. He plays a trill back towards his palm, thumb landing onto his middle finger, rubbing his knuckle into a firm hold not unlike his grasp when asking him to dance.

He’s brought between their bodies to rest against the left side of Wataru’s chest. Badump, badump, badump... The heat of Wataru’s hand and chest penetrates deep into him.

“Hah…” Wataru exhales against Shu’s mouth once and kisses him again. “Mm.”

When Wataru’s warmth leaves his hand and neck, planting somewhere behind the man as support, Shu slides his hand over to the center of Wataru’s chest, bringing his free one over to assist in unbuttoning.

Wataru fully breaks off from their kiss, leaning more of his body weight on his hands, watching deft digits make quick work of his top. He bites his lip, shivering and exhaling as the last button is threaded out and his shirt is hung open.

“Up.”

Lifting his hips, Wataru lets Shu unzip, pull his pants off, and tuck a towel underneath him, while he gently throws his shirt off to the side. But before he can fall back on the futon, Shu places a hand on his back.

Their chests aren’t pressed towards one another, but Wataru leans back against his hand—a reversal of their dance positions from earlier. It’s not a bad sight; perhaps he should let Shu have the leading role more. Ah, but that is what he was intending to do just now, until his love stopped him.

“Yes, Shu?” His eyebrows lower, and his eyes narrow with an amused smirk. “Are you perhaps already missing my lips?”

Shu deadpans. His fingers thread through strands of hair, running up from his neck, his scalp, to his half-bun. “Won’t this be uncomfortable?”

“Oh, you can undo it. Unless I’m more your type with my hair half-up~?”

“Don’t be ridiculous.” Shu wedges a nail underneath the base of his bun, releasing the tension on the left side of his scalp, and letting his wound hair unfurl downwards. “No matter how you wear it, it’s the same to me, Wataru.”

Whilst Shu gently lays him down, Wataru smiles, but it’s not long before his mouth is agape in a pleased sigh. Shu ghosts over his briefs before planting a more solid-feeling palm against his growing erection.

“Shu.” It comes out breathless, and a bead is already starting to pool at his tip, dampening fabric. Those fair fingers belonging to his beloved… “They’ll get dirty.”

“A little is fine.” Shu blinks, fixing his gaze from his crotch to him. “You said you wanted to be indulged, didn’t you?”

Another shiver runs down Wataru’s spine as Shu continues stroking him through his underwear. “Hah… Y-Yes…” To think he has the luxury of feeling them, to be treated to the sensation of him and his fingers bare for just a while longer—even if through fabric.

His dick is traced round and round the silhouette of its straining state, his head is prodded, a line is drawn down his shaft, all with only a finger.

Wataru swallows and a small moan escapes as he exhales through his nose.

Shu’s thumb tucks underneath his balls where the fabric bunches slightly, stroking him. It scoots itself downward, stopping short of making it that place he yearns a deeper touch for, pressing into that sensitive bridge of skin and nerves. Wataru twitches in earnest, cock bouncing against fabric when a wave of heat pulses within him. Ah, Shu… more… His hips lift, grinding and adding more pressure against Shu’s thumb.

Shu rubs counterclockwise in small spirals, trailing further down with each loop, stuttering only when he crosses over a seam to Wataru’s rim.

“Yes, there,” Wataru whispers.

“You’re quivering,” Shu says, redirecting the pressure to the skin surrounding his entrance in another circular motion. “You want it so badly?”

Wataru’s cock twitches again as he nods. His hands roam over his own torso in anticipation for that pressure, that preemptive feeling that he’d be taken, to return, but it doesn’t.

Shu’s other thumb joins its twin, kneading Wataru’s skin and coaxing his muscles into relaxing more. Shu looks up from his massaging and lingers on the wet patch that has formed on his briefs, as if in contemplation. The attention alone causes Wataru to flush in pleasure.

Closing his eyes, Shu lowers his head to kiss Wataru through his underwear.

“A-Ah, Shu…” Wataru’s breath hitches.

While he varies the pattern he kneads with, Shu opens his mouth to stroke his boyfriend with his lips, mouthing at him from the base to that dirty tip of his.

Wataru doesn’t need Shu to explain, when he opens his eyes and takes his head in his mouth, that he’s meant to savor it. He moans. His hips roll up against his mouth, bucking when he feels his tongue. “Oh-”

Shu pulls away, eliciting a small whine from Wataru, and another one when he pulls his hands away from his ass. It’s a necessary departure; it’s one that’s required for him to stretch out something else—his gloves. He picks the right-handed one with his corresponding hand, pinching the short cuff and shooting a glance at Wataru as he dangles it with a knowing smile.

Wataru can only pant an exhale, watching Shu’s left thumb pull the cuff downwards. His right hand’s elegant, slender digits worm their way inside, latex squeaking and trembling with each choppy ascension to fill loose pockets. His left hand’s index finger meets his thumb in a pinch, holding the cuff in place, as he stretches out his right hand’s fingers to fit the material snugly against him. Snap, the tension dissipates, and Wataru feels his heartbeat throb as he relaxes his lower muscles.

But when Shu repeats the motions with the left-handed glove, Wataru’s tension does not disappear as easily as it did earlier. He can hardly hold back from begging the moment his love finally lays his hands on his lower thighs.

“Please… inside.”

“Has Rei accustomed you to such a desperate pace?” Shu raises his brow. From the way Wataru’s muscles feel underneath his hands, he suspects adding anything but a digit so soon would hurt. “How long has it been? If I recall correctly, it’s been a while since you’ve gone on a date with any of us.”

Wataru lays his arm over his forehead, glancing to the side as he recalls. “…Mm, I admit, it has been busy as of late.”

“Then we’re going slowly. After all, ‘the evening sky won’t grace us for some time,’ was it?”

Oh how Wataru dreads what he had opened his request with.

“Just a little longer.” Shu spreads him apart, testing his resistance more. “I’m not compromising this. The last thing I want to do is to hurt you.”

With that, Wataru melts into another moment of appreciation, relaxing underneath Shu’s hands again. “Alright.”

The concept of eternity is romantic, but it can also be tortuous; yet therein lies the beauty of it. It is unforgiving in its coupling with time. One can easily go mad the moment a sense of progress lulls one into an expectation of something greater, yet never delivering. It is cruel, yet it is comforting—a fuzziness that clouds one’s mind of past, of future, leaving only the pleasures of the present.

“Please,” Wataru croaks. It feels so long ago that he prayed for it to end, to begin. He steels his heart against the sobs that wrack his respirations, denying himself the temptation of hope. He thinks he may only be hallucinating the slickened fingers around his rim slowing in their massage, rubbing more directly against his entrance and prodding him.

But his eternity has decided to answer: “Very well.”

The breach is so fluid he hardly processes being entered by Shu’s middle finger. It startles him. He sucks in air, and the burning desire within him, flames that he had grown accustomed to, starts to rage and consume him.

He aches, he aches and he aches to be stretched, to be violated against that spot inside of him, but when the tip of Shu’s finger grazes against that very spot, it’s almost too much.

Wataru jolts, moaning, “Ah!”

It doesn’t stop. With each minute push and pull of his finger, Shu rubs against him, increasing the pressure with each small stroke; it’s like lightning, striking each and every time at the heart of the fire.

“Nn, hah, Shu, Shu… Oh~!” He near seizes, cock thrust into the air.

Shu stills his hand, leaving his finger firmly pressed against his walls when he squirms about too much for his liking. His other hand holds one side of his hip down, but Wataru only jerks more unevenly.

“Ah, Shu…! Mm, please, no, ah…!”

Wataru can easily fake his reactions being the skilled actor that he is, and that is precisely why Shu considers it a great honor to see that he isn’t. The scrunches of his nose that could be seen as unflattering, the eye rolls, and most of all his unabashed moans… It’s pure shamelessness.

He recalls wanting nothing but the earth to part and swallow him whole, when he walked the streets with Wataru one winter—when he was transparent in the merriment he felt, belting short Christmas melodies and Ho Ho Ho’ing along the sidewalks. Though, that sense of shamelessness here, in his childhood bedroom, brings Shu no embarrassment, but arousal.

His hand starts moving again against Wataru’s sensitive spot between his legs, coaxing out another drawn out moan and an obscene roll of his hips.

“Ah- Fuck- Fuck me harder, Shu,” he gasps.

“Nngh.” Shu frowns in concentration, preparing his ring finger to join with his middle. “How vulgar.”

His ring finger slips in, hugging against his middle, and he finally complies, thrusting his hand with more vigor. The sticky sounds of lube and Wataru’s excitement squelch louder, faster. With each moan Shu draws out, his mouth grows dry as he pants in time with him.

“Shu, Shu, S-Shu…”

His index joins.

“Hah…” Wataru’s voice squeaks. He throws his head back against the pillow as his voice falls apart. “Ah, a-ah, ah-”

Shu shifts his hand from Wataru’s hip, wrapping his hand around the base of his dick. He pumps once and he leans over more of his torso when his beloved tries to squeeze his legs closed.

“Oh, Shu, no-” Wataru exhales.

Shu kisses him, asking in a low voice, “Too much?”

Wataru brings his own hand to his dick, wrapping fingers around Shu. “No- I’m close.”

“Oh?" Panting against Wataru’s neck, Shu asks again, "Do you want to come?”

“Y-Yes, please, Shu, please…” Wataru’s cock throbs against his hand as he moans.

Pressing all three fingers against Wataru, he holds them still after one last strong thrust. He curls them, interspaces the motion with the smallest of circles and his own man-made, jerky vibrations, and he sucks Wataru’s tongue, swallowing his moans and cries.

Wataru squirms, hand squeezing Shu’s tightly as his hips lift. He separates from Shu’s lips for air, gasping as a deluge of cum dribbles from his tip. Shu continues. With each pulse, each wave of pleasure that ripples throughout Wataru, his body jerks about before relaxing, and Shu ceases his inner strokes.

Breathing heavily, Wataru is left lying still on the futon with the occasional twitch or two. And gently, Shu retracts his fingers, taking care not to scratch or stimulate him further.

“Mmm…” Wataru whines at the emptiness.

The gloves are done away with and Shu returns to sit and stroke Wataru’s cheek.

He can’t help but admire how lovely Wataru is in the warmth of his afterglow. His breaths are calming down and his features are softened now after the event of his orgasm, but the tense furrow of his brows, the inverted arches of them when he pleaded with him, the way his mouth parted in the throes of passion—they were all wonderful accessories on the face of his love.

“Wataru.” Shu dabs his abdomen with an edge of the towel that he has been laying on.

Cracking open his eyes, Wataru hums. “Hm?”

“No matter how many times you show me these expressions of yours, I will never tire of them.”

Wataru’s eyes widen. They shimmer for a moment before he smiles, willing himself up off the futon to wrap his arms around Shu’s neck.

“And I, too.” Wataru says once he separates from a kiss. “I will never tire of the way you look at me.” He sighs, almost getting lost in Shu’s irises—that is, until he feels Shu’s hand on his knee, gently stroking, and he brings it up to his face to kiss it. “Mm… after all, Shu-kun’s bare hands are the best.”

Shu blushes, looking away. He can’t seem to decide between acknowledging it or brushing it off, mouth wavering as it opens and closes.

Wataru places Shu’s hand pack down on his thigh and takes notice of a slightly larger bulge. “Would you like me to return the favor?”

His boyfriend looks back at him. “It’s not necessary.”

Wataru narrows his eyes flirtatiously, drawing a small line back and forth on his knee. “What if I told you I want to?”

“…Then you may.”

Wataru allows himself a small giggle when he pries open Shu’s legs, lowering himself onto hands and knees.

“W-Wait hold on!” Shu’s head hits the end of the futon. “Let me undress first!”

And so Wataru rests his hands against his jaw, swaying his legs back and forth, watching Shu take his shirt off and slowly unbuckle his pants. Though, what lay beneath is what makes him move his hands to cover more of his mouth.

“Is something amusing?”

Adorable. Shu has kept his underwear after all, the very one he promised to burn after finding out that they owned the same design. First their floral shirts and now this; how amusing.

“Nothing, nothing. You’re more aroused than I thought.”

“Oh, hush,” Shu says, slipping out of the rest of his clothing. He lays his head back down and huffs. “It’s because of you.”

Wataru hums brightly, sliding his hands up Shu’s legs from in between them. He lowers his head, kissing Shu’s growing erection and starts to whisper to Shu or to himself, he’s not sure. “I’m happy.”

He mimics the actions Shu had done to him before, wrapping his lips around his cock, stroking him from base to head, dragging the tongue along the underside and sucking at his tip. He stays on him longer though, listening to his soft exhales and moans, tongue caressing and flicking at foreskin.

And when he covers Shu’s head with the entirety of his mouth, he begins to lower his head, bobbing once, twice, before he swallows thickly, nose burying against Shu’s trimmed hairs. He ascends, returning to bob around Shu’s head and rock against his knees. The emptiness within Wataru grows more noticeable with each bob and rocking. Goodness, he’s feeling particularly greedy.

Taking Shu to the back of his throat again, Wataru inhales, mouth twitching when Shu’s scent fills him.

“Just… what are you grinning about now?” Shu asks, exhaling shakily.

Separating from Shu with a pop, Wataru grins lopsidedly while he strokes him. “The idea of you inside me.”

“Not… a-ah, without a condom,” Shu moans.

Wataru’s hand stills. “Did you prepare those as well?”

His boyfriend’s lips form a firm line before admitting, “…They should be in a compartment.”

Wataru follows Shu’s side glance all the way to his luggage. Oh dear, it’s so far… The thought that he requires to separate, to spend a second away from the warmth of Shu’s body, is unpleasant. But hm? A glint of reflective material shines from the corner of his eye. He looks back to Shu, who waits for him to move.

Grinning, Wataru shimmies forward, hand reaching to embrace the side of Shu’s face. “Oya? Then, what’s this behind your ear?”

“Huh?“

“Ta-da!” A condom appears between Wataru’s knuckles, and he manipulates it across his fingers like one would roll a coin.

Shu sputters. “We are bare naked! How even-”

“Fufufu. That’s part of the magic, no? Now then…” Wataru places the corner of the condom into his mouth and rips it, placing it off to the side after he removes it from the wrapping.

Pinching a small pocket of slimy latex, he gently rolls the rest of the material downwards to Shu’s base, giving a few strokes afterward before grabbing the bottle of lube. He pops the cap open, holds it in a suspended position, and watches the globules bulge before gravity guides them downwards.

A few drops land on Shu’s tip, trailing downward, and some collide at the base when Wataru gently squeezes the bottle some more. It’s pleasing to the eye, almost like dew drops upon lotus pads… He squeezes a bit more.

“Of all people to mimic now, please not Kanata.”

Wataru laughs, flipping the bottle and putting it down again with a snap. “Had I really been intending to act as such, your bottle would be empty right now.”

“You worried me. We do not need another liberal user.”

“But he does have a good point about the sound.” Wataru wraps a hand, distributing the lube more evenly.

Shu grunts over the sound of squelches. “Nngh…”

After a few more strokes, Wataru moves to mount him, steadying himself by placing his clean palm on Shu’s hip and guiding him to his entrance with his other hand. Then, he exhales, sinking down on Shu.

“Ah-” Wataru almost drools, sharing a moan with Shu. He’s so thick and hard, just for him… His heart is filled with warmth.

He hazily remembers to wipe most of the lube away behind him on the towel before he moves to link and rest their hands together over Shu’s chest. He feels Shu’s heartbeat coursing through their laced fingers, like his own, forming a connected circuit—blood flowing through veins, exchanging much needed oxygen to channel their pleasure.

Wataru grinds experimentally, eyes rolling once he finds a particular angle. He lifts his hips, drops them, and sighs. Shu thrusts against him, helping him bounce into more moans.

It almost seems to hurt, the return of stimulation inside of him, but pushing past the initial discomfort, the kindling restarts the pleasurable burn within. His semi-softened dick even twitches again.

Though he knows this is all for him, Wataru makes an effort to start lifting his hips higher and sinking slower, face warming when he hears Shu whimper beneath him. He looks down, finding Shu’s irises to have dilated and be in a deeper shade of lust. He can only tease the both of them for so long until his biological impulses drive him back into a quick pace.

“Shu, Shu…” It sneaks up on him, bursting within and rippling all throughout his body. He stutters a breath, eyelids flying open as his jaw slacks. He sinks, grinding Shu against him like he’s not but a tool, shivering. “Ah!”

He unlinks their hands finally, sweaty and warm, while collapsing into Shu’s chest. It beats against his ear erratically when he heaves a breath, a second, and sighs contentedly. Though as he does, he realizes that Shu’s heartbeat is still marching, and that the stiffness inside of him has yet to retire.

“Did you…” Wataru begins to ask, sliding his hands against the futon and shifting against Shu while he’s still inside. “Fin-”

“Nngh!”

He falls back onto Shu’s torso as the man bucks upwards, wrapping his arms around him as he drives himself deep inside. He’s being held so warmly, so tightly, he almost can’t tell whose heartbeat it is that’s pounding. Shu’s hot breath tickles his back as he makes soft grunts that vibrate against his neck as he fucks. Their hips rise, Shu grinds desperately inside of him with one last thrust, and he cries out.

Once both of their hips have returned to the futon, Wataru shifts to look at his love, whose panting begins to settle down. Inside of himself, he feels Shu become softer. Ah, there we go… He smiles, choosing to tease him. “Did you finish?”

“Ugh.” Shu lets his head roll away from Wataru on the futon as he continues to rest his eyes.

It’s a satisfied groan, a happy one at that, Wataru notes. “Shall I draw us a bath now?”

“Would the two of us even fit? You first.” Shu slowly rises, with Wataru removing himself from him, tying and disposing of the condom. “I’ll tidy up here.”

“There’s not much to tidy, c’mon~” Wataru makes the condom wrapper disappear and swipes the bottle of lube and towel before Shu can fully bend down. He blinks innocently when Shu looks at him. “We’ll fit, we’ll fit! Let me scrub your back.”

“...I think I’ve already indulged you a lot today.” Shu sighs, plucking the lube from out of Wataru’s hands and walking back to his bag. “But fine. That… does sound nice.”