Chapter Text
Her name is Lisa.
Or Kimiko.
Kojiro isn’t sure. She’s got brown hair and a butterfly tattoo, but so did the girl from last week. And her name was Sara. No, Kate. Hina. Wait, fuck. They all start to blend together after a while but honestly he’s not complaining.
Even if he can’t remember their names Kojiro does care about them. He puts a lot of effort into making the apartment above his restaurant babe-friendly. Like a bird, gathering the finest sticks and shiny objects in an effort to get their clothes off. He even has a drawer filled with cheap, cotton t-shirts because they like to pinch one after sex.
It’s like a souvenir, Kojiro guesses.
“Black looks good on you,” he tells Kimiko.
Or Manami?
The brunette lifts her hair over the collar of the t-shirt and does a little spin in the mirror, ass cheeks peeking out beneath the hem. Kojiro watches gratefully, licking his tongue over his teeth.
“It smells like you,” she says, pressing her nose into the collar.
It doesn’t. Kojiro’s never worn this shirt. He grins regardless, combing back a strand of bouncy, brown hair.
“No worries babe,” he says. “Just keep it.”
Mitsu’s eyes light up. Kojiro leans in and kisses her jaw, sparing himself a look in the mirror behind her. He checks out her ass again, tan and cute. It jiggles as she rocks up on her toes.
“I had a good time, Joe.”
Sometimes the name they call him is the only way he can tell them apart. Kojiro smiles against her cheek, places his hand on the small of her back. Girls love when he does that.
“I had a good time too, doll.”
There’s a sweet puff of laughter against his throat, a playful push to his bare chest. Rumi, or Rachel, pushes him back and scrutinises him with a flirtatious smile.
“You forgot my name,” she says, and giggles.
Kojiro paints his smile on.
“No I didn't.”
The corners of Rani’s eyes crease as she laughs again, a little strained. She shakes her head and it makes her big, gold earrings clink together.
“It’s fine,” she reassures. “I know you see a lot of girls, I just thought-”
“I know your name,” Kojiro says – stressed.
Kara’s smile begins to fall. It doesn’t suit her shimmery, sweet face. Her glossy lips push out in a sticky pout and Kojiro feels bad. Real bad. He fumbles for the right thing to say, and honestly he’s been in this situation before - why isn’t he better prepared? But before he can come up with anything his security system chirps.
Somebody’s entered Sia la luce.
“Customer,” Kojiro exhales, relieved.
Before Sophia can question why a customer would show up after midnight, or before she can accuse Kojiro of forgetting her name again, he gives her a kiss on her frowning mouth. He helps her wriggle into the skirt she wore to his apartment and nudges her out the door with her heels in hand.
“Wait, wh-”
Kojiro closes the door while her mouth is still open. He puts on a white t-shirt, one he actually owns, and sprays himself with deodorant.
He’s not sure why he bothers.
It’s the middle of the night and there’s only one other person with a key to Sia la luce. Kojiro grabs a bottle of chardonnay on his way to the kitchen so he won’t be snapped at for forgetting. The sole occupant of his restaurant sits at the bar with an impatient look on his face - like a customer kept waiting too long.
But Kaoru is not a customer.
The thought of Kaoru actually paying for a meal makes Kojiro laugh. It’s a dumb thing to do, especially when the other looks so pissed off. Pretty, honey eyes narrow from behind a fluttering, paper fan.
“You here to fix up your tab?” Kojiro smiles at him.
His skin prickles as he turns his back, a murderous gaze fixed upon his nape. He uncorks the wine and pours a generous serve in each. A little extra for Kaoru - the way he’s snapping his fan about suggests he’s anything but relaxed.
“You know I’m good for it, idiot.”
Kojiro’s smile widens. As if he’d ever make Kaoru pay. He swallows back his grin and offers the fuller glass to Kaoru. The paper fan snaps closed and he takes a large, undignified swallow of the wine. When he’s done his face is as pink as his namesake.
“What’s the matter with you, princess?”
Kaoru sneers at the nickname. His face isn’t an embarrassed pink - it’s stress pink. His own signature shade. Kojiro hasn’t seen it this bad since he first opened his calligraphy shop. He slides his glass forward for a top up, too flustered for any scathing retorts.
“Work,” is all he says.
Kojiro fills his glass again and this time Kaoru sips a little slower. He’s tense, and in the silence Carla bleeps to let him know his blood pressure is higher than normal. Kojiro raises an eyebrow and Kaoru flattens his, exhaling from his nose.
“I landed an important client,” he explains. “Very important. It’s a lot of money.”
He says the last sentence like it terrifies him more than thrills him. Kaoru pinches the bridge of his nose, sipping wine through pursed lips.
“He is turning out to be more work than I first calculated,” he continues. “But it’s fine.”
Kaoru is like a clam.
So pink and cute, and so fast to close up on Kojiro.
The bickering is a front - there’s no one on earth who knows Kaoru better, or cares for him more than Kojiro does. But he’s sensitive. So tightly strung that he seems to have no control over how high those walls go, or who he shuts out in the process.
“You’re the most talented calligrapher in Okinawa,” Kojiro says - because it’s true. “If anyone can handle a big client, it’s you.”
It’s risky business complimenting Kaoru when he’s so strung out but the honest words land softer than expected. He blushes darker and ducks his head to escape the sincerity.
“Shut up.”
Sometimes Kojiro wants to squeeze Kaoru’s head like a peanut. Crush it in his fist. Force some sense into his complicated, anxious insides. The insults are familiar territory but they make him clench his teeth. He can’t help the way he gets when Kaoru crawls under his skin.
“I was complimenting you, douche.”
Kaoru blows air out his nose, then he does something Kojiro hasn’t seen in years. He gathers up his hair in both hands and pushes it upward, like the weight is too much. He sighs, rosy locks tumbling across his knuckles, fingers brushing up his scalp. His eyebrows pinch behind the frame of his glasses.
Oh, Kojiro thinks.
It’s a world of difference from the way he handled stress in high school. The smoking. The silly, sugary drinks laced with liquor. Adam. Anything to numb the struggle. Kojiro spent many nights squeezed into a single bed with his best friend, listening to his every thought.
But he doesn’t tell him secrets anymore.
“You need a massage,” Kojiro says.
Kaoru shoots him a wounded glare. It’s no secret he doesn’t enjoy being touched. Even as teenagers, the seldom times he’d allowed Kojiro to rub his head were hard fought for.
“I bet your shoulders are like rock,” he adds.
Kaoru is too tired to argue. He hums, staring down into his drink. Kojiro leans over the bar and digs his thumb into his shoulder while he’s distracted. The muscle is so tense Kaoru hisses, slapping at his arm.
“Don’t jab at me like some animal! I said I was fine.”
It’s such an obvious lie Kojiro laughs in frustration. Kaoru leans forward and exhales. There’s a soft clack against the floor which can only be his sandal slipping loose.
“What about a foot massage?”
Kaoru’s laugh is sudden and scathing. He doesn’t look up, still clutching his head. His answer comes from beneath a sakura-coloured curtain.
“I would never let a stranger touch my feet.”
Kojiro sticks his tongue into his cheek. He finishes his wine, internally arguing with himself. Don’t do it, he thinks. But then he opens his big, dumb mouth.
“What about a friend?”
Kaoru’s knee-jerk response is to scrunch up his nose. But he doesn’t say anything cruel. Doesn’t argue. It’s no secret to Kojiro that this man likes to be spoiled - not that he’d ever admit it. Pretty eyes examine his (hopefully) sincere expression, lips thin in consideration.
“Get up,” Kojiro decides.
“I didn’t say yes.”
“It wasn’t a question. Move your ass, four-eyes.”
Kojiro rounds the bar and jerks his chin toward the staircase. Sometimes it’s better to push Kaoru into these things. To make him feel like he doesn’t have a choice in that matter. Kaoru mutters something, filling up his wine again. The bottle empties to the rim.
“I’m not taking my socks off,” he informs Kojiro.
Kojiro bites back a sarcastic smile.
“Yes, your highness.”
Kaoru thins his eyes over his glass and slips his second sandal to the floor.
……………………………………………………………………………
Kaoru’s got small feet.
Or maybe Kojiro’s hands are just big. It’s hard to tell but the sight makes a lump form in his throat. His socks are soft and bunny-white, and his toes curl inward like he’s anxious. Kojiro gives a gentle squeeze, hardly encouraged by the expression on the other’s face.
They’ve been here before.
Half-drunk and stretched out on Kojiro’s sofa. It’s not weird to have Kaoru in his apartment. In fact, he likes it better this way. The only thing that’s different are the small, marshmallow-soft socks in his lap. He drags his thumb up the tense arch and swallows. God, he’s nervous.
“Your hands are calloused.”
Kaoru stares at him through his glasses, unimpressed. Kojiro snorts, digging his thumb into a bird-boned ankle. He pushes a little higher and grazes over bare skin, his face warm.
“You can’t feel them through your dumb socks.”
Kojiro doesn’t really think they’re dumb. He thinks they’re cute. He particularly likes the way they divide Kaoru’s toes. He grabs one side in his left hand, the other in his right and spreads them apart and back together again.
“Like a lobster,” he laughs.
Kaoru’s face colours with indignation. He jerks his knee back to kick but Kojiro is quicker, his hand fitting neat around one ankle. He drags Kaoru’s leg back over his lap, unable to swallow another, louder laugh.
“Don’t call them that!”
“No need to get crabby,” Kojiro chokes beneath a snicker.
The pinkette shows his teeth, and instead of kicking he digs his toes into Kojiro’s side and pinches him until it burns. The man shouts, a hot pain shooting up his side.
“Ow! Don’t use your fucking pinchers!”
“They’re not pinchers!”
A cushion smacks him hard against the head. Kaoru kicks, wriggling backwards on the couch. It’s so juvenile but it makes Kojiro’s heart sing. He’s laughing so hard he can barely move. He pulls the other man toward him and his yukata snags, pushing upward to reveal his long, pretty legs.
“Stop it!” Kaoru squeaks. “This isn’t relaxing.”
His ankle is so damned narrow where the sock ends, giving way to smooth, milk-pale skin. Kaoru jerks the fabric over his knees like some scandalised schoolgirl but Kojiro’s seen enough. He rubs his face to hide his furious blush.
“Shut up and relax then,” he argues.
He feels eyes burning into the side of his head but he ignores them, taking a small socked foot between his hands. He digs his thumb into the underside and it pushes a sound out of Kaoru. It must be involuntary - Kojiro knows this for two reasons. The first being that Kaoru never makes arbitrary sounds of pleasure unless it comes at the cost of Joe’s dignity.
The second is the way Kaoru ducks his head to hide the humiliated hue across his cheeks.
“Would it kill you to admit it feels good?”
Mean, honey eyes peer through thick lashes. Kaoru’s arms are still crossed over his chest. Prissy, Kojiro thinks. His nostrils flare when the man squeezes that certain spot again.
“It might.”
Kojiro huffs and kneads his thumb against the same spot. The other curls his toes and the sight is regretfully endearing. He glances at Kaoru as he gives him a good, firm rub - and is quickly disheartened. Pursed lips. Square shoulders. Frowny eyebrows.
So much for relaxation.
Kojiro drops the sock-clad foot and sighs. Kaoru drags his knees toward his chest like some timid animal. Pfft. The thought makes Kojiro’s chest shake. He wants to lean across and slap Kaoru. Ruffle his bubble-gum pink hair. Pull it, maybe. Wait. No.
He wrinkles his nose at the intrusive thought, standing up and grabbing a new bottle from his personal stash. He needs to be drunker for this, he decides - unable to get the sight of Kaoru’s lovely, long legs out of his head. He doesn’t bother with a glass, heading back to the couch with the whole bottle.
“You really are tense,” Kojiro says after a long drink.
Kaoru holds out his empty glass and Kojiro tops it up. He sips at it, not answering until he’s finished his drink.
“Yep,” Kaoru finally says, popping the last syllable.
Kojiro hums. There’s a question on his tongue but it takes another drink to pull it loose.
“When’s the last time you got laid?”
Kaoru chokes.
“I’m not speaking to you about my sex life,” he sneers.
There’s a litany of unspoken insults in his tone. Dumb, uncultured gorilla springs to mind. Kojiro pouts his lower lip and pretends to be insulted.
“Why not? I’ll tell you about mine.”
Kaoru manages to curl his lip and go florid at the same time. He’s always been an easy blusher. He didn’t get his nickname without reason. The colour goes all the way to his throat, disappearing behind folds of fine fabric.
“I don’t need to hear about all the girls you’ve fucked,” Kaoru says.
The word sounds crass coming from his proper mouth. It reminds Kojiro of the way he used to be - some spitfire little punk who didn’t get all blushy over sex talk.
“I fuck guys too,” Kojiro reminds him.
He pushes his tongue into his cheek to make it look like he’s sucking cock. Kaoru’s thumb slips against the rim of his glass with a loud squeak.
“Boorish,” he accuses.
Kojiro snickers, raising the wine bottle to his lips.
“Boorish,” he mimics in an obnoxious voice.
Kaoru digs his damned sock into Kojiro’s side again, forcing wine to dribble down his chin. He catches the offending foot and grips it tight in warning. Kaoru rolls his eyes and surrenders, sinking into the sofa. Kojiro simply holds his foot, and they finish the bottle together.
……………………………………………………………………………
Kojiro’s loved Kaoru since high school.
Maybe longer, it’s hard to say. Difficult to seperate the innocent love he had for Kaoru as a kid and the sticky, tormenting thing that it grew into as a teenager. They’ve always been together - children with skateboards and scraped knees and worried mothers.
Them against the world.
Romantic love tastes bittersweet. It hurts, and Kojiro’s heart is bruised so easily by Kaoru. He doesn’t tell him how he feels. He keeps it locked up, a private thing that only grows and grows in its solitude. It aches because Kaoru is in love, too.
Just not with him.
He hates to see him with Adam.
Hard to see the way Kaoru looks up to him, the same way Kojiro looks up to him. Even harder to see them kiss. To see the hand that hugs the cheek of Kaoru’s ass like he owns it, and that satisfied smile Adam wears beneath his mask. Like Kaoru’s always been his. Like he knows him.
Adam doesn’t know shit.
Not like Kojiro does.
“This doesn’t seem sanitary.”
The needle is cool in Kojiro’s hand. He’s watched Kaoru give himself t-shots for months but never had the chance to do it himself. The boy lays beneath him on a single mattress, pants bunched around his knees. It’s distracting - those lily-white thighs and black briefs.
“Hurry up and do it.”
“Jesus, okay.”
Kaoru makes a tiny noise when the needle goes in. Kojiro doesn’t want to hurt him and he feels a pang of guilt at both the pained sound, and the way it makes his dick twitch. Kaoru wriggles his knees together, hand clenching for a second before letting go. When he opens his eyes they are bright and special. Like electricity.
“So are you gonna grow back hair now?” Kojiro asks to break the silence.
“Only apes have back hair,” Kaoru smirks.
He sits up but Kojiro shoves him back down, watching him bounce off the mattress. It makes his nose scrunch up, hugged by a delicate loop of silver. It matches his lip ring and all the jewellery in his ears. It catches the dying sunlight and makes Kojiro’s heart hurt with how good it looks.
“You wanna skate?” He asks.
Kaoru still has that electric look in his eyes. It’s the same look he got when he convinced Kojiro to start skateboarding. Or to get an undercut. Or when he talked his way into giving him a shitty stick-and-poke tattoo on his ankle.
“I wanna get a piercing,” he says decisively.
Kojiro snorts.
“You don’t have anything left to pierce. Unless…”
His eyes flit down Kaoru’s body and to his black briefs. His legs are squeezed together, a sliver of stomach peeking between his underwear and shirt. Kojiro’s eyes go lower, only for a second, to where his thighs meet in the middle.
“Ew!”
Kaoru smacks him before he can stare too long.
“Pig!” He shouts, wriggling his pants back up. “Smooth-brained animal.”
Kojiro’s pulse is pounding, his trousers tight. He swallows, nodding like he agrees. He does feel a little feral, in fact. Kaoru pushes him away with his legs but Kojiro is an immoveable force. The boy only manages to inch himself up the mattress until his knees are locked.
“My nipples,” he says quietly.
He crosses his arms over his chest. Kojiro’s heart skips a beat.
“Sakurayashiki…” He warns.
But Kaoru’s eyes are alight and he’s the most stubborn creature Kojiro’s ever had the pleasure to know. The next thing he knows they’re at the studio together, a small and seedy space tucked away off a busy side street.
It’s where Kaoru gets all his piercings done. Except for his first one, of course. Kojiro did that himself, jabbing a pin through the pink lobe of Kaoru’s ear, smothering his shout against his arm so his mom wouldn’t hear. He still has it and it sits a little crooked from the others.
But the rest he got from Yua.
The studio is loud and trendy, and no one seems to care about two high school boys making their way out back. Least of all Yua herself who’s never asked to see an ID. She’s got a soft spot for Kaoru, Kojiro sees that. After all who doesn’t?
Kojiro feels more nervous than Kaoru looks. He hunches over on the little chair in the corner, watching as Kaoru lifts up his shirt. The fluorescents make his waist look even paler, and he hesitates as the fabric bunches on his ribs. Kojiro looks down, wringing his hands.
“I don’t care if you look,” Kaoru says.
He hears the sound of his shirt being folded and recognises the way he exhales as he takes the bandages off his chest. It’s not safe, he told Kaoru a thousand times. He should know better by now not to challenge someone as pig-headed as his best friend.
“I don’t want to make you feel uncomfortable.”
“I just said you can look, ape.”
There’s anxiety on the tip of Kaoru’s cruel tongue. He lifts his eyes to see Kaoru take a seat on the black, leather chair. His back is to him, tendrils of baby pink sitting between his shoulder blades. His hands are cupped over his small chest, the back of his ears red. Kojiro cracks his knuckles, wondering if Adam’s ever seen this much.
“Lay down,” Yua coaxes.
The leather creaks as Kaoru obeys, his breath heavy enough to hear over the thump-thump of music coming from reception. His eyes go to the ceiling, knees drawn up until Yua puts her hand on one and guides it back down.
“You okay?” She checks.
Kaoru gives a handsome smile - a fake one. Yua’s none the wiser but Kojiro sees right through it. Women love that manufactured grin, the way Kaoru blinks his sweet, wide eyes.
“Yes,” he lies through his teeth.
But Kojiro sees how his hands are white-knuckled where they hide his breasts.
“Not too late to back out,” Kojiro reminds him.
Kaoru finally turns and looks at him. He raises a cocky eyebrow, remnants of the faux-smile still clinging to his gorgeous mouth.
“I’m not scared.”
Kojiro’s nostrils flare.
“I didn’t say you were, pinky.”
Kaoru does this thing he hates. This stupid eye roll, pupils rolling up into his skull like a corpse. He grimaces, nose screwed up, and the sight so dumb that Kojiro wants to lean over and punch his leg. Or kiss him - he isn’t sure yet.
“You gotta take your hands away, kid.”
The last of Kaoru’s smile fades and Kojiro looks down before he moves his hands. He hears fingers shuffle forward on the leather, searching for something. He puts his hand out and Kaoru grabs it, lacing his fingers between Kojiro’s larger, tanner ones. The boy scoots forward and situates himself so he can only see Kaoru from the collarbone up.
He holds his hand and for the second time today hears a pained gasp as a needle pushes through Kaoru’s skin. And then a third time. He tries not to think about what’s happening because he knows Kaoru’s uncomfortable. It’s erotic though, especially for a teenage boy with a teenage-sized crush.
There’s tears in Kaoru’s eyelashes. One blink is all it takes to break them, a fine line falling down his cheek. He’s trembling with adrenalin, and a shy smile crawls to the corner of his mouth. Fuck, Kojiro thinks. He definitely wants to kiss him.
“All done,” Yua says.
When Kaoru looks down at his chest his eyes are glassy and illuminated, like street-lights in the rain. His timid smile grows a little wider. His chest rises and falls.
“O-oh,” he exhales, shaking.
It’s the same face he makes when he lands a tricky jump. Dazzling confidence. A little danger. Something to suit the barbells and loops on his face. And his nipples now too, Kojiro supposes, readjusting the way he sits.
“What do you think?”
It takes him a second to realise Kaoru is speaking to him. He looks beautiful, flush and dewy across the brow. His lips press together as his smile begins to slow.
“You haven’t looked,” he adds, quieter.
What’s Kojiro meant to say? His heart is jammed into his throat and his dick is more than half hard. What can he say that isn’t creepy? How can he stand up without Kaoru and Yua seeing the way his trousers strain against him? He waits too long to answer and Kaoru’s smile fades away.
“If you don’t want to-” Kaoru starts, voice uncharacteristically vulnerable.
Kojiro looks before he loses his chance.
It’s a one-two punch.
He’s never seen Kaoru without a shirt on before. His breasts are small enough to hide in his hands, almost flat to his rising chest. And his nipples are sore and red, a bead of blood sitting where a barbell meets the skin. Kojiro’s mouth opens and it snaps shut. It’s a lot to deal with. He’s never seen a person more beautiful than this.
But the thing he likes the most is the nervous, too-soft dip of Kaoru’s stomach. It sinks in as his chest rises, and fills out as it falls. He wants to lay his hand across it. He wants to run a knuckle from his navel to between his breasts, and steal that kiss that’s been haunting him.
It’s not the night Kojiro falls in love with Kaoru.
But it is the night he finally realises it.
……………………………………………………………………………
Kojiro loves blondes.
Especially this one, with tits like a porn-star. Her hair is pulled back in a high, tight ponytail. Yeah, Kojiro likes that too. Likes that he could wrap his hand over it and tug it like a leash.
Her name is Melanie.
It’s definitely Melanie, he thinks.
She’s wearing a thin, baby blue cardigan that does nothing to hide how large her chest is. Kojiro isn’t into size, no, but he’s a man all the same. His eyes go to the low-cut of the knitwear, to where the silly pendant of her love-heart necklace falls. He lays back on his bed and groans, shirtless and a little tipsy.
“Sexy,” she says to him.
Kojiro smiles, reaching down and giving his dick a squeeze.
“Says you.”
The first button of her cardigan comes free too easily. She pops them lose one by one, buttons clacking over lacquered nails. Kojiro keeps his hand on his crotch and gives himself another squeeze. It’s been a long week and he needs this. Melissa smiles at the sight.
“I can’t wait to suck your dick,” she says.
Kojiro’s breath hitches. He can’t wait either. She’s wearing lipstick and he wants to see it smear around the base of him. He wets his mouth, imagining her ponytail in his fist. Using it to bully her around a bit, if she likes. She pops open another button and his phone rings.
It’s Kaoru.
Without taking his hand off his dick Kojiro puts the phone up to his ear.
“What?”
Mandie doesn’t even blink. She smiles like they’re doing something naughty. Hell, Kojiro’s into that. Especially when he hears Kaoru’s grumpy, deep voice rasp down the line to him.
“Can you come over?” He asks.
Marie undoes the last button and drops her cardigan to the floor. Her bra is white lace and see-through. He can see her nipples press against the fabric and he swears under his breath.
“I’m busy right now. Can’t it wait, four-eyes?”
Strangely, Kaoru doesn’t snap at him. Or maybe he does and Kojiro misses it, distracted by the way Marie slips her skirt down to expose the band of her g-string. It matches the same slutty fabric as her bra.
“I had a long day at work,” Kaoru says.
Marie’s hips sway side to side as she wriggles her tight skirt down her hips. Then she’s only in her underwear - skimpy, sheer things. Kojiro can see her pussy pressed against her panties and his dick twitches.
“Mm,” he groans. “Did you baby?”
Kaoru goes silent.
“Are you with someone?” He snaps.
For some reason Kojiro’s always wanted him a little more when he’s angry. He pushes his hips against thin air just to ease the pressure. He beckons Mari closer with one finger.
“Not yet,” he taunts.
The mattress dips as Madison crawls onto it. She smells like the beach, coconut and saké, and her ponytail brushes his chest like its teasing him. She cups a hand under the weight of his cock and hugs it through the fabric. She smiles, slow and sexy, and tilts her head like she’s waiting.
“Kaoru?”
“I need another massage.”
Maya’s thumb presses upward until it kneads the outline of his cockhead. It makes his hips jump and he swears again. God, that’s so good. He can even hear Kaoru clear his throat through the phone. Maya leans in and (regretfully) Kojiro puts his hand against her chest.
Her big, heaving chest.
He can’t help but squeeze her breasts before he pushes her away. They jiggle a bit when she laughs and Kojiro wants to lean in and hide his face in them. Instead he presses his mouth against the phone.
“Be there in ten,” Kojiro promises.
……………………………………………………………………………
He finds Kaoru wearing sweatpants.
Kojiro pauses in the doorway, startled. The pinkette stares back at him, chopsticks and a mess of noodles hanging out his mouth. He also wears an oversized jumper that seems overly familiar, and his hair is tied up in a loose bun.
“Yikes,” Kojiro says.
He hasn’t seen Kaoru out of yukata in a long time. The other man narrows his eyes and unceremoniously pokes the noodles into his mouth. His lips are greasy with sauce and there’s a matching stain on his chest. He puts down the takeaway box and blots his mouth with napkin.
“Why are you here?”
Kojiro wonders the same thing.
“Rude. You asked me to come.”
“I didn’t think you actually would.”
Kojiro shrugs his jacket off and drops it over a chair. The television is on but nothing’s playing. It’s late night programming, some sleepy documentary about marine life. He plops down on the couch and pats his lap.
“Well I’m here now, princess. Give ‘em here.”
Kaoru has the gall to glare at him a while longer. As he stares Kojiro notices how tired he looks. There’s faint shadows beneath his eyes. Even his hair seems duller. The man eventually untucks his legs from beneath himself and wiggles back so he can rest them over Kojiro’s lap.
“Thank you,” he says very quietly.
Kaoru isn’t wearing socks. His bare feet are warm from being nestled beneath his body. Kojiro cups his ankle and hesitates. It feels intimate, and his hand itches to squeeze bare skin. He should feel guilty because Kaoru looks so, so worn out - but he can’t bring himself to. It’s not his fault he was pulled away from sex for this.
“I’m worried about you,” he says.
Kaoru hums as Kojiro squeezes his ankle. Then he smoothes his thumb beneath the arch, cupping the top of his foot in his palm. Bare toes curl against him and it makes his chest feel full. His stomach ties itself in knots and he wants to laugh at how pathetic he is.
“You need some kind of stress relief.”
Kaoru sees right through him and narrows his eyes.
“I don’t sleep around frivolously,” he replies.
“Neither do I,” Kojiro retorts, offended.
Well…
“What was that woman’s name?”
Kojiro rolls his shoulders.
“Maisie,” he guesses.
Kaoru laughs. It’s a sweet surprise. He tips back his head and relaxes against the sofa. Kojiro smiles too, rubbing his thumbs against firm tendons. When he presses too hard on the pad of his foot Kaoru spreads his toes just like a kitten.
“So there’s no one in your life right now?” Kojiro pushes.
Kaoru snorts in reply, his eyes half closed behind his glasses. His head tilts against the sofa and Kojiro wonders if he’s going to fall asleep.
“No tall, rich guy who freaks out over calligraphy?” He tries again.
“You think that’s what I like?”
It’s what you used to like, Kojiro thinks.
“What about that, um. What’s-his-name.” Kojiro clicks one hand as he thinks. “Nakamura. That guy.”
Kaoru’s last boyfriend. The name is like ashes in his mouth.
“Ended it,” Kaoru says, shaking his head. “Same reason as the last.”
Kojiro laughs because he doesn’t know what else to do. He doesn’t want to tell Kaoru good, they don’t deserve you anyway. But he thinks it. Kaoru’s eyes are closed now and the tension in his shoulders leaves. With his hair pulled up he can see the line of his throat, the hint of collarbone before the noodle-stained jumper covers him up.
“Too tall and too rich?”
“Something like that.”
Kaoru stretches his legs out and shifts his feet, and Kojiro readjusts him so his heel won’t bump against his erection. The man stifles a yawn, staring past his knees like he’s deep in thought. He seems sad. No. Something else.
“You’re not…”
Kojiro trails off. He doesn’t know how to ask.
“What?”
He rolls his tongue against the inside of his cheek, tossing words about in his head until he finds the most elegant string he can manage.
“You’ve had sex before?” He asks slowly. “Right…?”
The famous sakura-pink blush burns terribly across Kaoru’s nose. Suddenly he doesn’t look so sleepy and his body tenses as he sits up.
“Yes I’ve had sex before, you dumb gorilla!”
“Fuck! Okay! I’m just asking! Sorry. Uptight much?”
Kaoru has the decency to look embarrassed, ducking his head and crossing his arms. Kojiro squeezes his foot a little too hard, working a grunt out of his throat.
“You’d think with all this sex you’re having you’d be a little calmer,” Kojiro mutters.
“I’m not having sex.”
Oh.
“I can’t.”
A moment passes. Kojiro’s hands pause against his feet but they don’t leave. Kaoru’s still staring at something that isn’t there, pink all the way to his neck.
“It hurts too much,” he admits, softly.
It’s not often he gives Kojiro these small, vulnerable parts of himself. The man is so used to acting like the beast Kaoru accuses him of being that he needs a moment to calm down before he can speak. He doesn’t want to crush this glass-like confession in his big, rough hands.
It hurts?
“Did some guy-”
“Kojiro.”
Kaoru cuts him off with a quick shake of his head. Kojiro’s shoulders sag in relief. Maybe it was a stupid conclusion to jump to but he can’t think of anything worse.
“It shouldn’t hurt,” Kojiro says very carefully.
Kaoru rolls his eyes toward the ceiling. Then he nods. He looks everywhere but at Kojiro, his shoulders hugged close to his ears. He nods after a moment, glancing up through his eyelashes.
“It’s stupid,” he shrugs.
Nothing Kaoru could ever say would be stupid to Kojiro.
“I’m too - too tense. I think too much about it and it makes me more stressed. Every time I’m with someone I just… I get too deep inside my own head. My body clamps up and it hurts too much to…”
He gestures vaguely with his hand.
To be penetrated, Kojiro’s gorilla brain provides. His stomach swoops. Oh, fuck.
“If I can’t have an orgasm I don’t see the point in having sex,” Kaoru mutters. “So I don’t. Happy now?”
His words are mean but his face is less than so. He glances at Kojiro near timidly. The man blinks back, trying to push back the million questions and intrusive thoughts that are racing through his brain. No, he isn’t happy.
“You’ve never had an orgasm?” Kojiro asks.
Kaoru shakes his head.
“Never.”
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