Well Wishes of a Wandering Clown

If he strains a little, he can hear it—the gentle breeze rustling through the trees’ leaves, the echoes of vocal warm ups, and the multitude of footsteps belonging to idol units hard at work.

Wataru looks up from the distant ground towards the blue, blue sky, watching as an airplane becomes small amongst the white streaks of cloud. To think just recently, that could have been Rei. He smiles, becoming more aware of his reflection next, and he blinks at the silhouette of his eyes etched on the glass pane, colored in the very same blue of the sky.

Stepping away from the window, he hums and smooths out the front of his uniform as he waits for his guest to arrive. While the cool tone feels refreshing on the eyes, the summer heat is anything but. On days like these, he wonders if he should go without his vest more often.

Knock, knock.

Oh? How courteous. Though, maybe there are still lingering students around indoors to witness the uncouth alternative of barging in.

Borrowing Eichi’s chair, Wataru allows himself to get comfortable, propping his elbows on the desk, resting his chin atop of his folded hands, and grinning. He takes another second to muse about how Rei might’ve felt, sitting in the very same spot, before calling out with an airy, composed tone. “Come in.”

As expected, the boy enters in a polite manner, closing the door behind him with a nudge, before the gentility evaporates with his glare.

“What.”

“Now, that’s no way to greet one of your upperclassmen, Sakasaki-kun.”

Natsume’s eyelid twitches as he smiles. “…What did you call me here For, Senpai?”

The moniker oozes with disdain that rivals their early days of knowing each other—when the decorum of “Niisan” was nothing more than sarcasm. It’s heart-throbbing.

“We needn’t rush.” Wataru gestures using his left hand. “Why not a cup of tea before we get to the specifics?”

“I’m afraid I’ll have to Decline.” Natsume crosses his arms. “Spit it out Already. What’s so important that you opted to summon me with a handwritten Note, rather than abusing the efforts of Glasses, or the Butler? If this is a trap of Yours…” The space between his brows wrinkles even more.

Hm~ Wataru wonders if the omission of his own name is a conscious effort, or a subconscious wall.

“You’re mistaken.” Butler-san- “Yuzuru has been kind enough to let me exploit his arsenal of abilities. If you’ll take a look at your feet, the path leading to my desk is nothing but pristine, is it not? No hidden, spring-loaded projectiles sit at the ready either, as the bookshelves are packed neatly. So, why not have you come closer, instead of projecting our voices?”

When Natsume finally accepts his invitation, Wataru stares up into those eyes of his, burning with focus. His lips curl further upwards just a smidge—for anything more would shatter the balance he seems to have struck for now. 

“Fufu.” Since it’s more clearly in front of him though, he can’t help chuckle. “You do hate me.”

“Switch Is—or I should say Was—in the middle of designing stage Props. Of course I’d be annoyed when someone won’t get to the point Already, so I can hurry back to That Thing and Sora-kun.”

“You’re getting along with them I presume?”

“Not quite your Business, is It?”

“While I’ve been absent for a while, I do wish to better know my fellow schoolmates as Student Council President—especially when they’re cute juniors like you. But perhaps… you’d be more willing to tell me news about that famous mother of yours instead?”

“For someone who seems pressed for Time, you sure do like to waste Others’.” Natsume clicks his tongue, turning his back to him. “I’m Leaving.”

It would have been nice to receive more confirmation through conversation alone, but in the first place, the fact his Natsume-kun has been able to form a unit with Eichi’s bluebird, and that new, bubbly junior that wanted to associate with him out of his own volition… That is telling enough. Just one final thing to fully assure him remains.

“Now, hold on just a minute.” Wataru presses his palms against the desk, assisting himself up into a stand. “I do apologize for that preamble.”

“That meaningless exchange of Breath, you Mean,” Natsume says, hand reaching for the door.

Wataru plants a palm back on the desk when he reaches the front of it, and his elbow bucks at the weight. “There’s a prestigious work offer for Switch.”

“Huh? But Switch barely Even-“ Natsume whips his head back to face him, widening his eyes.

Wataru manages to wearily blink when he lifts his heavy head, collapsing onto the ground not a moment after. “Hah- Hah, hah…” he wheezes, interrupting himself with a series of coughs.

“Hey!”

The boy’s steps thunder in the ear Wataru has pressed to the ground, thudding closer to him.

“Cough! Hah- Cough…!”

An arm loops underneath his neck and he’s held by the shoulder, causing his head to roll to the side, before it settles in the support of Natsume’s inner elbow.

“You- You aren’t joking are You? This isn’t Funny! Senpai mentioned-” Natsume looks at his wrist. “Where’s your Gauge!?”

“Pried it-” Wataru forces, “I can’t, hah, let my family-”

“Sagami-sensei isn’t here right Now! If you don’t call for Them, You’ll…!”

Wataru faintly looks up at the boy, who furrows his brows and squints his eyes in humanity. His other hand feels warm against his torso, wrinkling his uniform in anxiety. Despite what he’s done to him, despite the boy having to go through what would warp the purest of hearts into that of a vengeful demi-god’s… Natsume holds him dear, and worries for him like any other person, without hesitation.

Ah… he’ll be fine after all. 

Smiling, Wataru exhales through his nose, bringing up a hand to caress the side of Natsume’s face. “I’m sorry for showing you yet another pitiful sight.”

Badump. Within Natsume’s gaze, there’s a blooming recognition within the sea of shock. “…Wataru-niisan?” Badump, badump.

Wataru suppresses a shiver.

It’s disappointing being unmasked on stage, but oh so lovely to be known. Was there a minor flaw in his disguise? A notable difference in posture? A large gap between his current reading of Eichi and reality? Nay, it would seem—in his endeavor to act as a main character—his desire to make a connection with the boy is once again his downfall.

Sighing contentedly, Wataru extricates himself from Natsume, standing up normally. He lifts a hand up to his head. “I’ve been caught.”

His long locks begin unfurling, falling out of the confines of his wig. Plop. The golden strands splay out once they’ve made contact with the floor, and the edges are nearly stepped on, when he moves to the side for theatrical effect.

“What gave me away?” He looks over his shoulder and tilts his head.

Natsume only continues to stare at him until he gathers himself, standing up tall.

“I don’t know why you wanted to play dress Up, but it’d be a sin to not recognize the person one cares about after getting so close to Them. And I’m fond of You… after All.”

Wataru blinks, feeling his own cheeks begin to warm as well.

“I feel like the distance between us has Been… the most ambiguous Lately, so I want to make it Known.” 

Natsume looks away before steeling even more of himself, directing his gaze back to him with the same resolute focus as he had with Eichi.

“I love you, Wataru-niisan. Even if you had to last time, I won’t take a rejection of my feelings here. I’ll make you fall for me, even if it means I die trying.”

Wataru blinks again.

Then he laughs, and he laughs some more.

“W-What’s so Funny?”

“Oh…” He wipes a tear. “I thought I was supposed to be the clown. Aren’t you only supposed to say that, when someone hasn’t already entrusted you with their heart?”

“Maybe. But I said I wanted to make it Clear.”

“Right, right~ I understand the intent.” Wataru strokes his chin. “Though, I have to say, that’s a terribly reckless philosophy of yours. Even if you ‘die trying’? We strove to keep your life out of harm’s way, and you’d choose not to cherish it?”

Natsume crosses his arms, smiling. “Shouldn’t the life I was so graciously given be used how I see Fit?”

“Mm…” Wataru pouts, with his whine carrying over into some of his speech. “Games of hit points and lives are a perfectly sound hobby to indulge in, with various characters to interact with, but it would be worthwhile to meet such characters in the companionship of your fellow classmates.”

“I assure you I’m getting along with enough of my Classmates, Wataru-niisan.”

“Really? Could you name some?”

“Yuuki-kun,” Natsume says, keeping his arms comfortably held. “Baru-kun.”

“That’s all? For the few months you’ve had, that’s hardly a list.”

Looking to the side, Natsume adds, “…There’s also Mika-kun.”

“Ah, but he’s not with you this year, is he? Not to mention, you resort to an established connection, instead of listing more recent ones?”

“Are you trying to get me to hate You?” Natsume glares.

“I wouldn’t mind if you did,” Wataru chuckles. “I prefer it to being an existence of indifference for you. But if your love for me can turn into hatred that quickly, I question the sincerity of your feelings~”

The footsteps Natsume makes toward him this time are less thunderous, but they maintain the same purposeful gait as before. He stops directly in front of him with a finality to his stance. Looking up into his eyes, they enter an impromptu staring contest, until Natsume places his hands upon his shoulders, tiptoes, and grazes his chin with his lips.

Blushing, Natsume settles back onto the ground and pressing his mouth nto a tight line, as if he’s begging him not to tease.

So Wataru merely smiles, dipping his head just a tad lower for Natsume to try again.

It takes another moment for Natsume to prepare himself, but he does indeed raise his height with another tiptoe.

Peck. “Is that… proof Enough?”

Wataru glances downwards. “I’m afraid not.”

“Wh-“ Natsume yelps, having his height raised again. “Put me Down!”

Walking around Eichi’s desk, Wataru does just that, depositing him onto the matching chair before kneeling in between his legs.

“While you’re right that actions can speak louder than words, said actions must also match the grandeur of one’s claims.” Nudging his head closer to Natsume’s crotch, Wataru continues examining. “Physical arousal and love are not a perfect one-to-one correlation, but I do wonder why… Despite Rei gloating about how sensitive you were with him, I see no evidence of that here with me.”

“That’s because I won’t get hard from a single Kiss,” Natsume says, monotone. “And it definitely sounds like Rei-niisan left out some important details There. He was the one pressing onto me that Day.”

“Then you’d react similarly if I were to do the same?” Wataru looks up to the boy’s face.

Flushing, he avoids eye contact. “What do you Think?”

Wataru runs a hand up Natsume’s calf, rounding his knee, moving to stroke his inner thigh. “I think… We won’t know until we try~”

The boy huffs, resting his eyes and relaxing himself against the chair. “Then break a Leg.”

Placing his other hand on Natsume’s lonely thigh, Wataru hums. He strokes back and forth, rustling the fabric as he does. “I’m assuming this isn’t enough?”

“…You have Eyes, don’t You?” Natsume peeks. Though I don’t remember them being so sky Blue.”

“Ah.” With a wave of both his hands across his face, Wataru makes his contacts disappear with a smile. “My usual loving gaze would aid you, is it?”

Natsume closes his eyes, a tad red again.

Laughing, Wataru plants his hands back onto the boy’s legs, giving him a few more experimental strokes as he watches his expression. Though he seems to not dislike the sensation, his eyebrows are far too relaxed—the opposite of what he wishes to see of them. Maybe a more direct approach would work better. 

Wataru stretches his neck forward, biting the bit of fabric fastened around a button, tugging it off and biting the zipper next. He rides it down a weak outline, hoping it strengthens with what he does next.

“Ah~” He parts his lips, measuring Natsume’s girth with the tension in his mouth—or lack thereof—through the material of his underwear. But when he feels an interested twitch, the grin Wataru tries to make ruins his plan.

He looks up, finding Natsume’s attentive gaze subtly shifting from his captured self to his eyes. “Mm~” Humming again, he traces even more of Natsume, encouraging him to come out of his vague lump and properly fill the rest of his underwear.

Once Natsume does, Wataru releases him, pressing a tongue against the underside of his outline starting at his base, all the way up to his tip.

Separating from the boy, Wataru’s eyes shine. “Amazing! You truly can become erect for me~”

“You don’t have to announce It!”

“I see that it’s my error now.” Peck. He slides his hands up to the waistband of Natsume’s underwear, tugging it down. Peck, peck. “Allow me to atone for having doubted your feelings.”

“A-Ah-“

It’s a peculiar taste. Palatable. He continues slowly dragging his tongue upwards, and in the back of his mind, Wataru catalogues it for any future cannibalistic role he may take, savoring more of Natsume’s flesh. He then rises, taking the head into his mouth next.

“Nn…”

Bobbing himself at the tip, he salivates, sneaking a glance at Natsume’s half-lidded gaze and furrowed eyebrows. Aha, there it is~

He hums, sinking further.

Scrape. As the boy bucks into him, the armrests at the sides of his head sound with the twitch of Natsume’s fingers. His fingernails drag back towards the edge, firmly grabbing them with each movement of Wataru’s head.

Coming up for a breath, Wataru recalls a particular technique for sword swallowing, relaxing his throat and preparing to combat his reflex.

“Mm-!”

The tip of his nose tickles as he settles down at Natsume’s base, nestling within his hair. Though his eyes are gently closed, he feels the prickle of tears the longer he lingers, taking pleasure in the fluffy feeling emerging within his head.

Strings of saliva briefly connect the two of them when he forces himself back. “Hah, hah-“ he pants, vaguely making a comparison between Eichi and his current state, before smiling.

“It truly is the picture of arousal. I can hardly believe its transformation,” he marvels, taking pride in Natsume’s sheen.

“Nngh.” Natsume exhales a pair of breaths as well. “Don’t Act… as if you’re not going through puberty Too, Nii-san.”

When the boy catches sight of the movement Wataru makes towards his legs, Natsume’s eyes widen.

Lowering his eyelids, Wataru strokes the evidence of his own feelings for him. “Then I won’t.” 

He attacks him with vigor, listening to the intensity of Natsume’s inhales as he bobs, alternating his pace as he sees fit and interrupting said pace with deeper descents. He feels his cheeks warm and warm, and he becomes more familiar with that heady feeling, with the continued effort—until a moan from the boy comes out particularly desperate. 

“W-Wait, stop, stop.”

Wataru pulls his head back, panting as he scans Natsume’s face.

“I was… gonna come…”

Oh? What a perverse boy he’s become before his very eyes… Holding back because he wants to keep feeling the magic of his tongue. How naughty, naughty.

Unblinkingly, Wataru stands. With a clink, his belt snakes around his ankles under the fabric of his pants, his underwear.

“N-Nii-san?!” he squeaks.

Natsume truly is a hundred years too early to be called something other than cute.

Lifting legs up and over Natsume’s own, Wataru hovers over his lap, looking between their bodies to align himself even more. “Shh, shh… Try not to be too loud~”

It burns a little as he sinks down, but it’s manageable. Just like he alters the way of carrying his body during a played role, accepting the stretch is merely an extension of that ability of his.

“A-Ah,” Natsume gasps, staring wide-eyed at his point of entry, until Wataru bottoms out and makes him squeeze his eyes. “Mm-” Thud—the back of his head hits the chair.

“Fufu.” Wataru’s hands slide up Natsume’s neck, cupping his cheeks for a moment, before cushioning the back of his head. “In lieu of letting passionate cries slip, we can’t have you concussing yourself either.” Peck.

The size of the chair and the gaps between seat and armrest make it a tad awkward to maneuver, but Wataru manages, rolling his hips against Natsume’s and relishing the way he moans against his lips. That burning sensation inside of him edges closer to pleasant with each kindle, each grind upon Natsume’s torso, and each little moan that slips through.

At some point, the boy takes his hands off wood and onto the back of his shirt, holding him close as the pace of his hips grow frantic.

“Wataru-niisan…” Natsume moans, breaking away from their kiss.

Wataru huffs a laugh. “Go on~”

“Nn-” He tenses, bringing him even closer to him. As the boy’s hips buck again, Wataru feels him throb inside of him more so than the climax itself, before the grip he has on him relaxes and he starts to soften.

But just when Wataru thinks Natsume’s hands will drift fully off of him, they return with a renewed strength, causing him to widen his eyes.

“Natsume-kun?”

Natsume grunts, lifting the two of them when he stands.

“Ah,“ Wataru gasps when a bit of his butt rebounds off of Eichi’s desk, and he reflexively clings onto Natsume when he has to take a step back.

“Nngh!” Natsume leans over him as he sets him down on the desk properly, panting. “Hah- Hah…”

His breaths tickle his exposed legs until they meet eyes, and Wataru near shivers at the intensity of them.

In a smooth motion, Natsume exits from him, leaving a pool of his spend to gather on the desk. He pays it no mind as he drops to his knees, taking his erection into his mouth.

“O-Oh-“ Wataru moans. How unexpected…!

It’s unrefined, but earnest. Wataru can’t help but smile at the muffled gag Natsume tries to fight, emulating his earlier technique before he settles at a more appropriate length for him. Lifting a hand off of the desk, Wataru tucks the boy’s long strand of red hair behind his ear, resting his hand atop his head next, and enjoys Natsume’s gradual acquisition of experience.

He breathes, focusing on the earlier burn within him, feeling it ebb and flow with the grind of Natsume’s tongue, until he has to verbalize a warning. “You’d best, hah, pull out soon-!”

But to Wataru’s chagrin, or perhaps to his pleasure, Natsume continues bobbing his head until he spills inside of him, squeezing his eyes. His tongue twitches as he swallows, pulling off only when Wataru basks in the luxury of a sigh.

“Nn…” Natsume grimaces, gathering the lingering remnants of himself into another swallow.

“Haha.” Wataru strokes the boy’s head. “I believe I gave an ample window of opportunity.”

His hand drifts off when Natsume stands again, looking between his legs, then around the room and its bookshelves for something.

“Hm, perhaps this?” Wataru tucks a hand through the collar of his shirt, making a handkerchief appear.

Glancing back at him, Natsume raises a brow. “Is that Insignia…?”

“The Tenshouin Zaibatsu’s? Why yes, yes it-”

Thwip. The cloth is swiped from his hands and Wataru can only stare as Natsume crudely soaks up the mess between his legs with it. He even lifts his leg, with his allowance, pressing the handkerchief against his entrance and soaking the rest of it with fluid.

And once he’s finished, Natsume lets it fall from his pinched grip, onto Eichi’s chair, with a light thud. Without a word, he steps to the side away from his discarded bottoms to fix his own.

Taking his cue, Wataru slips off the desk and into the holes of his underwear, then pants, securing them back up with his belt. 

“It’s not as if I disliked It, But-” Natsume looks from the side back to him. “Why did you Suddenly…”

“I could ask the same for you! But I admit it was unscripted,” Wataru chuckles. “It was either that or the other way though. And I would loathe to steal the moment you’ve been wanting for you and your favorite niisan~”

“H-He’s not my-!” Natsume defends, wide-eyed. And after he realizes that he just revealed there is one, he deadpans. “There’s a limit to how many times a person can be Teased, Wataru-niisan.” 

He turns to face the door again, taking a few steps before he says with a small blush, “I assume we’re done Here, so I’ll be seeing You.”

The door gently shuts with the same, soft nudge as earlier, leaving him alone once again.

“Yes. See you, Natsume-kun.”

Bending down to pick up his discarded wig, Wataru holds it up as if a skull.

“Had you hesitated the moment ‘I’ collapsed, or derived pleasure from ‘my’ weakness, it would have truly been worrisome. Yet you’ve shown the genuine ambition to channel that bleeding heart into momentum—much like Shu these days. Continue as you were. With that bluebird by your side, and that adorable new junior of yours, struggle. Struggle and grow up strong. And do not forget the passion you have shown me.”

The golden strands slip through his fingers, landing softly on the desk again, to where he idly strokes.

“For that would make me the most joyed as ‘Wataru.’ ”