Archive of Our Own

I.

The first time it happened, Souichi didn’t have an inkling of an idea of what he’d accidentally uncovered.

Morinaga’s back had been a dreadful sight. Angry red welts ran crisscross from the top of his shoulders to the small of his back and down his sides. It looked painful.

Souichi had apologized, overwhelmed by guilt and a kind of shame previously unknown. Morinaga, who had no sense of self preservation apparently, swore that it was fine, that it didn’t even hurt that much. However, not even Souichi, who was never comfortable speaking during the day of what they did at night, could ignore it. He could not believe he had done this.

Livid, he had applied soothing salve over the swollen marks. Morinaga’s back radiated heat under his fingertips. In places, the top layer had been scratched off, leaving an irregular texture to the pink skin.


Despite his best efforts, Morinaga could not help but flinch when the other touched the worst looking parts of the mess, his mess. In a few areas, there were bloody crescent marks. Where several scratches overlapped, the skin was fully torn and droplets of blood had coagulated atop the puffy knotted lines.

Good lord.

Souichi traced down a particularly angry mark with uncomfortable familiarity. When his right index reached the end, near the small of Morinaga’s waist, he could not help but notice how the indent there matched the shape of his fingernail to perfection.
 He would have liked for the floor to swallow him whole then and there. When it did not, he had to push the thought as far back in his mind as he possibly could and forced himself to focus on the immediate task at hand, trying to will away the memories of how he got there.

Thankfully, Morinaga had stayed put and mostly tame while Souichi anxiously spread the gel over the wounds. He seemed to appreciate the gesture a bit too much for someone who was clearly in pain, but Souichi put that up to him just being weird.

The marks did not fade for days. Souichi was reminded every time he caught Morinaga wandering around shirtless in the morning or after a shower, (not that he was looking or anything).

Morinaga, who must’ve been insane to not even try to get Souichi to stop mauling him while it was happening, never once complained about his predicament.

It had to be painful. There was no way the irregular scrapings of skin did not get caught in the fabric or his shirts, that he didn’t feel discomfort every time he sat in a chair, leaned against a wall, or went to bed at night.


And yet… Morinaga did not abuse the power Souichi had unwittingly handed over to him. The power to complain for a very justified reason and to remind Souichi of the mortifying cause of his discomfort. And, well, Souichi wasn’t about to check this gift horse in the mouth, so he left it alone.

Souichi never did that again. When he held on to Morinaga’s back from then on, he consciously flattened his palms and kept his nails far away from skin. Any marks he left would be gone by morning.


The guy did mention the absence of new scratches once they had faded, but only once or twice, and in jest. Souichi had stormed out, embarrassed beyond belief each time.

II.

The second time it happened, Souichi could have started to connect the dots, maybe, but, to be fair, he had been in no condition to think, much less reason. Besides, it could have been a coincidence.

They had been in bed, Morinaga’s of course. How they ended up there in the middle of the afternoon, Souichi wasn’t entirely sure, but, for some reason, he wasn’t too keen on the idea of leaving now. When Morinaga got started he was hard to escape.

Okay, okay, more honestly, he made it hard to want to escape.


Souichi was comfortable, there was a warm body pressed against his back, a skilled hand down his pants lazily stroking him, and a hot mouth pressing wet kisses on his neck. It was good, lazy, afternoon sex.

(The shame would wait until later, when he found himself in a post-coital shower before the sun had even begun its descent.)

And then, Morinaga, who was apparently not happy to just grind his cock against Souichi’s ass—even though he should have been, because there was no other situation where he would ever be allowed to do that—decided to switch up the perfectly good situation and manhandled Souichi on top.

That was rude. Souichi didn’t like to be manhandled. Worse, though, was that Morinaga had resumed the handjob and the grinding before he could even protest the new position and, well, it was kind of hard to argue that he wasn’t enjoying himself after he bucked into Morinaga’s hand and stained his shirt with precum.

Souichi tried to sound firm when he told him off anyways, but he immediately had to bite into his lower lip really hard not to moan when the other swiped his thumb over his slit, which kind of undermined the whole thing.


Then, Morinaga did that thing where he vigorously rubbed the tip in a closed fist, and this time he could not hold back the string of “oh god oh fuck oh fuck fuckfuck.”


Defeated, Souichi had begrudgingly allowed him to carry on. For purely practical reasons. Morinaga, an actual devil, kept rolling his hips under him anyways. A small but constant reminder that he was hard, which shouldn’t have had any effect on Souichi, but, unfortunately it did. This guy got to have his cake and eat it too way too often.


By the time Morinaga had two wet fingers stretching him out, Souichi had all but collapsed on top of him, face hidden away in the crook of his neck. All he could do was try his hardest to keep his voice down when the digits pressed just right on his prostate. His achingly hard cock lay between their bodies, neglected, which was good, because otherwise Souichi would’ve already finished, and bad, because he feared he might anyways.

At this point, asking to be let go of and laid on his back would have been the one single thing more embarrassing than to carry on as they were positioned, so he gave up on that idea. Morinaga would, unfortunately, have his way.

With a small nudge, he had Souichi sit up on his knees so he could free himself from the confine of his pants. He only realized how compliant he was when the fucker smiled all happy. He would have been mad if Morinaga hadn’t thanked him, which threw him in a bit of a loop because what the hell? How could someone be so rude, and then so polite when doing rude things?

Before he could find his grounds again, there was a hard shaft lined up against his ass, tip poking at his entrance, and he sort of lost track of all thoughts.


Souichi gasped and moaned at the strain, not the pleasure, when Morinaga slowly guided him to lower himself at an achingly slow pace. So careful and gentle, when they both knew Souichi could take it. He could feel every inch catch on his rim, the heady pressure in just the right places inside, the pulsing heat… for a moment, he forgot he wasn’t supposed to like riding, and he arched into the feeling with unabated desire.


Then, shattering that blissful but precarious feeling and Souichi’s previously reluctant acceptance of the situation, Morinaga had opened his dirty dirty mouth.


"Did you just get more wet when I put it in? Cute."


The way he called it “getting wet” made Souichi’s skin crawl. What the fuck? That was so—so humiliating? A lewd euphemism for a more graphic term that somehow made it worse?


In that moment, he had to do something, anything, to get back even an ounce of dignity.


The issue, though, was that… well, Morinaga, he might’ve been right. Souichi’s embarrassingly wet hard cock lay on his lower stomach, enjoying some delightful friction every time Morinaga shifted.

Souichi could already picture the other man’s cocky smile if he tried to deny the claim, how he would reach below and stroke him slowly to gather evidence and show it to him glistening on his fingers, because he had no shame.


That—God—that would have been unacceptable.


“Don’t—don’t call it—oh fuck—”


Morinaga gave a jerky upwards roll of his hips at just the right angle, pushing so good on his prostate, and Souichi’s traitor of a cock decided to pulse and leak some more at the stimulation.


He cursed again. Tears of frustration gathered in his eyes. This was so unfair. How was he on top, literally, and still getting pushed around like this? Why did the humiliation always have to come with something else that turned him on and confused him even further? Fuck.

Before he could implode, or worse, come, Souichi did the only thing he could think of on the spot: he bent down and bit hard at the junction of Morinaga’s neck and his shoulder.


The loud gasp of surprise and pain it drew out was music to his ears. Unclenching his jaw, he let his teeth graze the deep indents. A warning.

What he had not anticipated was that Morinaga would throb inside him, and lose his goddamn mind. He growled in Souichi’s ear, which might’ve been weird if it wasn’t so incredibly hot.


Ditching the slow and teasing, the well deserving victim of Souichi’s frustration set a punishing pace that left him barely able to support himself on shaky thighs while he got absolutely railed.


Souichi bit down on the tender flesh again, and again to contain the desperate noises punched out of him with every thrust, and because it was a better outlet for the sensory overload than rubbing on Morinaga’s stomach until he came shamefully. And maybe also a bit, and just a bit, because it drew out previously unknown sounds from the bastard under.

He was a curious person, okay?


Morinaga did not slow down, he did not even tease with any more dirty words. He moaned and panted hot breath into Souichi’s ear and held onto his thighs with a bruising grip as he thrusted upwards, hard and fast and overwhelming.


For once, Morinaga had actually finished before Souichi did. Gasping for breath, he threw his head back, baring his neck further, and shook while he pulsed inside and made stupidly hot little punched out sounds.


Souichi did not rut forward on his tense stomach, seeking a release that was so close. He definitely did not revel in the way it had Morinaga shiver and moan.

And if he licked at the marks he had left while Morinaga finished jerking him off between their bodies, well, it was just because he felt a bit guilty. Nothing to do with how it had Morinaga’s grip on him tighten and shake.


Morinaga only wore shirts with a high collar for a while afterwards.

For some reason, the sight of the damage—and it was quite something—did not trigger the same sense of guilt that the back scratches previously had. It was because that had actually been deserved, Souichi reasoned, and because Morinaga could take care of it on his own.


And the feeling in his guts when he caught glimpses of the clear red indents surrounded by red and purple broken capillaries and it got him all weird and bothered? That was guilt. Nothing else to write home about.

III.

The third time it happened, Souichi got a hint but still didn’t think much of it, and maybe he should have, but, in his defence, he had been sleepy.

They had been in Morinaga’s bed, again. Souichi couldn’t really piece together why he was there, because he was pretty sure they hadn’t had sex the night before, but he was too cozy to question it.


He was slowly fading out of a hazy and steamy dream, the shapes of which were already distant, while the warm feeling lingered. Behind him was a half asleep Morinaga pressing lazy kisses on his nape. He was half hard against his ass, and Souichi didn’t really mind.


On principle, he wasn’t too keen on waking up to sex, but Morinaga was still half in a dream, his erection pressed just right against the curve of his ass, and Souichi was also kind of hard himself and so very comfortable and warm, so.
 He let whatever was happening happen.

Noticing him awake, Morinaga grumbled a good morning in his neck. Not feeling up to words just yet, Souichi hummed an acknowledgement and let Morinaga nuzzle in his hair and press closer.


The man was a furnace in his sleep, he still radiated heat. It burned just right everywhere their bodies touched. The cool air of the room on his face only made him appreciate the safety and comfort under the duvet more.

There was a sudden and localized rush of cold when Morinaga moved the arm he had thrown over Souichi’s midriff at some point in the night. A hand immediately ran over that precise point, soothing away the chill, and continued its way over to his chest, just feeling up and spreading warmth.

Souichi didn’t quite press into the touch, but he might as well have, because he sighed deep, which had the same effect. Behind him, Morinaga breathed warm air just under his ear, prompting Souichi to arch his back into the heat behind, because it felt good and he was sleepy and comfortable. 
Morinaga made a content low noise, his voice still rough from sleep.

Unhurried, and clearly confident that Souichi wasn’t going anywhere, which made him hot in a different way, Morinaga dipped under his sleeping shirt.

Souichi’s skin was exposed to the brisk morning air when fabric warmed by body heat was pulled away from it. He shivered. Morinaga hummed. His fingertips trailed back heat wherever he had so cruelly taken it away.


His touch went from hot to burning as he lingered on Souichi’s nipples, already hardened by the cold. He gently rubbed and rolled one, and, soon, souichi was shivering for an entirely different reason.

Then, Souichi whined, needy, because the “shame” part of his brain wasn’t awake yet apparently. Morinaga took it as a sign to leave his poor chest alone (good) and run his hand down Souichi’s stomach (questionable) to finally settle on his hip (dangerous).


He heard Morinaga smile in his ear, the tiniest sound of lips parting. Cute. Souichi swallowed down another sound, less for his pride and more for the sanctity of the morning silence, and, feeling soft and mellow, leaned into the touch.

Morinaga’s hand tightened on him. (hot.)

A part of him that wasn’t fully conscious yet decided that there was no way he might regret reaching backwards to grab a firm fistful of dark hair to pull Morinaga into a lazy open mouthed kiss.
 And, to be fair, he did not come to regret it. The surprised sound it pulled out of the other was worth it on its own.

Kissing Morinaga, Souichi had begun to realize lately, was actually an absolute power move. It worked wonders to shut him up, to shut his overthinking mind up, and to hijack the evil part of his brain that liked to edge Souichi until he was drooling, shaking, and dangerously close to begging. Devious bastard never admitted to doing this, though, calling it “taking his time” or whatever.

Souichi was… not against him taking his time, sometimes. He was not against it at all, in that moment, when his lips met Morinaga’s. It’s just that, well, it did still frustrate him, somehow. The heat and tension in his loins rising much quicker than Morinaga was moving them along the motions, and Souichi needed to do something about it.


Backing up into Morinaga’s slow grinding was all well and good—and totally justified by my fact that Morinaga held his hip, by the way—but it wasn’t quite enough. Morinaga’s tongue in his mouth, however, was just perfect.

(For the record, Souichi had been well aware that this all sounded like poor excuses, but, listen, nobody was entirely rational right after waking up, okay? He would find a better way to rationalize all of it later.)


Morinaga, who needed no excuse to be horny first thing in the morning, had welcomed Souichi open mouthed, and then made him completely forget that he wasn’t supposed to be into wet messy making out. He still kept everything slow, almost sluggish, still heavy with sleep, and good good good.


Souichi wasn’t exactly sleepy anymore, but he felt about as out of it. The heaviness of slumber still lingered in his limbs and slowed his thought process …Maybe that was just the effect of Morinaga so early in the morning, when Souichi hadn’t had a chance to put up defences yet.


He didn’t want to think too much about it, though, and, for once, that was very easy to do. Just focus on Morinaga’s tongue.


The way his bed partner kept lazily pressing his erection right up his ass, not quite getting off, just rubbing, so that Souichi could feel it fully harden through their thin clothes, and the way he firmly held onto his hip to keep him that close was a little dizzying, a bit overwhelmingly hot.


So, Souichi hadn’t realized how much his grip on Morinaga’s hair had tightened until the other man broke away from his mouth with a strangled moan that went straight to Souichi’s very awake cock. He thought he felt Morinaga’s hips stutter, but frankly he hadn’t been paying too much attention to the details of it all, other than that it just felt really fucking good and he wanted more.

Had he been fully awake, or maybe 50% more clear headed, Souichi would’ve disentangled his hand and apologized. For some reason, he did not do either of those things, did not even consider the option. Instead, he pulled Morinaga back to his mouth to kiss him harder, messier, swallowing the pained whines.


Morinaga, who was most definitely not right in the head, not that Souichi minded at all apparently, eagerly kissed back. His slow grind sped up in a way Souichi knew was not intentional, or at least not calculated. That—god, that really made him feel things. When Morinaga lost control…


It quickly went from slow and deep grinding, the kind that made Souichi lose his mind when Morinaga was inside, not that he would ever admit that, to fast and desperate.

Souichi had half a mind to sneak a hand down his own pants, thought better of it even through his hazy mind, and then thought about sneaking a hand down Morinaga’s pants, which was infinitely worse of an idea, and also one he was obsessed with.

That would’ve required letting go of Morinaga’s hair though, and Souichi didn’t want to. Not when tightening his grip even just a little bit made Morinaga’s pace falter, and twisting his wrist had him gasping desperate sounds into his mouth.


Morinaga (unfortunately) had to let go of his hip on account of his other arm being under the pillow under both of their heads, and therefore unusable. It was a worthy sacrifice though, to be able to push his hand under Souichi’s waistband.
 He arched forward into the touch, and about lost his mind when Morinaga’s hand flattened on his lower stomach to keep him in place.

When Souichi breathed “oh fuck” against his lips—at least he was pretty sure he did, it might’ve just come out as a moan—Morinaga said something like “yeah” and slid lower.

He did not wrap his hand around Souichi’s cock, or free him from his pants, he just kept his hand there, firm, where pressure felt a strange kind of funny and good. It was some sort of compromise to keep holding him for leverage, while also touching skin and providing the absolute bare minimum of stimulation where his fingers framed Souichi’s erection, pushing it downward.

It was too much and too little all at once, the now wet fabric of his pants rubbing against his sensitive head every time Morinaga jerked him forward with the roll of their bodies together, Morinaga licking into his mouth, groaning and panting, the raw heat at every point of contact with between them, Morinaga’s fucking cock rubbing against his fucking ass, Morinaga, Morinaga.


Souichi came just like that, from the near absence of touch and the heat in his veins, while the other held him down and desperately rutted against him, moaning “please please please pleaseplease” into his mouth. Souichi pulled him closer by the hair, forcing him to swallow the moans of his pleasure.

Morinaga didn’t last a second longer. Souichi felt him pulse behind as he pressed himself impossibly close and just let out little gasps against his lips.
 He slowed down until he was just barely rocking their bodies together, milking out the last remnants of pleasure.


Souichi could’ve absolutely fallen right back to sleep then and there, in his stained pyjamas, but, more importantly, into Morinaga’s embrace.

He did not get to that.


After the intense but somewhat ruined orgasm, Morinaga, a beast, went down on him to lick up his mess and create a new one. So, Souichi did not really get the opportunity to think.


It’s true that he could’ve maybe formed a hypothesis when Morinaga placed his hands back on his head as he blew him and got really into it when Souichi reflexively pulled. To be fair, though, he had been kind of distracted by the heavenly feeling of a mouth on his overly sensitive dick, and then by the rush of Morinaga pulling off and coming back up to stroke them together until Souichi was drained for the second time of the day before 8am.

So, really, it had been Morinaga’s fault that Souichi still didn’t catch on after that.

IV.

The fourth time it happened is when Souichi would finally catch on to it.


Morinaga had been abusing the fact that Professor Tatsumi allowed him to close the door to his office. To be fair, and he didn’t like to be, Souichi had been completely allowing him to do it and get away with it.

Ever since they had bought a new couch for his office, Morinaga kept trying to bend him on it. The guy definitely had a thing for public sex, and generally sex in places that were not meant for that. Souichi, who did not, was unfortunately weak to the other’s touch just about anywhere, regardless of how stupid the location. His office was about as stupid as it could get, except for the middle of the streets maybe. Not that Morinaga ever cared.


That’s how, on a weekday, after office hours, Souichi found himself pressed up against a bookshelf, with Morinaga’s mouth locked with his, and grabby hands on the small of his back. This was dangerous, very dangerous.


The first mistake had been to let Morinaga convince him that “just a kiss” was fine since the door was closed, the second, to let Morinaga do it again and again, and the third, for Souichi to convince himself that “just a kiss” could last five minutes and include a bit of wandering hands. The biggest mistake of all had been to let it happen after office hours, late in the evening, when neither of them had places to be. The usual daily chatter in the pavilion's hallways had long left with most students and colleagues; there was no excuse to stop.

He needed to push Morinaga off before the guy could realize that Souichi was already half hard from making out, or this would not end well. He had work to do, Morinaga had work to do, and they were at school.
He shuddered at the thought. Morinaga sucked on his tongue and the fear melted a little too quickly into a thrill. It took Souichi all of his willpower not to whine when Morinaga suckled on his lower lip.


The thing was, he knew that Morinaga would stop if seriously turned down. He would back away with a pout, perhaps try to convince Souichi to continue, and then he would make the walk home full of longing sideway glances and careless brushes of their shoulders that Souichi wouldn’t be able to call him out on without admitting to their effect, but he would stop.


Souichi was also acutely aware that Morinaga would very much like to lay him on the new couch given the opportunity.

His resolve to not let him just do that was growing frighteningly thin.


When Morinaga finally broke the kiss to catch his breath, Souichi foolishly thought he would have a moment of respite to pull himself together, come to reason, and put some safe distance between them.

He did not.

Forcing his eyes to focus on the man in front of him, he hoped he didn’t look too dazed, while aware that he most likely did, and saw Morinaga’s gaze flickered from want to wild. All hopes of regaining composure were gone when the other darted forwards for his lips to meet Souichi’s jugular. All he could do was slap a hand over his own mouth not to moan out loud.

The unfair bastard, that was a weak point.


Morinaga, who had no sense of fairness when it came to embarrassing Souichi, grabbed his arm, the last thing protecting his dignity, and pinned it next to his head like it was no effort at all, which had absolutely no business being this hot.

Frustration mixed with the heightened fear of being heard now that only willpower could hold back his voice, and then it all turned to lust when Morinaga breathed hot air up his neck to nibble at his ear and whisper something positively filthy about how cute it was that just a kiss messed him up so much.

As if that was “just a kiss,” Souichi thought.


Instead of talking back, he choked on his own breath, and weakly tried to dislodge his arm to no avail. Morinaga dared to chuckle right in his ear, all dark and hot. Fuck. Fuck. This was bad.

To make matters worse, he took a step forward and pushed his leg right between Souichi’s, who moaned out loud, to his own horror, and couldn’t help but buck into the pressure. His knees almost buckled when Morinaga shamelessly pressed his own erection against his hip.


“Wait— wait, Morinaga. Not here,” Souichi hissed.


The other just shifted his leg and Souichi’s hips stuttered on their own.

Biting his lip, Souichi looked down between their bodies. Maybe a reality check would help him find the strength to push away the other’s increasingly alluring advances…


He saw himself, white lab coat parted, his shirt more untucked than was fashionable, an unmistakable tent in his slacks. At the edge of his vision, the tip of a dark necktie, and Morinaga’s strong thigh between his own, the bulge of his erection noticeable through his pants…

Souichi swallowed. He shouldn’t be into that. He absolutely should not like any part of this scenario.


“Not here,” he repeated, though his obduracy did not sound convincing to his own ears.


“Really, Souichi-san? But you’re so hard already….” Morinaga replied with another press of teeth to his earlobe.


Souichi didn’t dare answer. Instead, sensing urgency, he tried to shove Morinaga away with his whole body weight. Pressing against Morinaga’s sturdy frame when they were already as close as could be did not have the desired effect. In hindsight, he should’ve seen that one.

Regrets hit as soon as pleasure pulsed in his loins. Fuck. Morinaga was going to take this the wrong way. Morinaga, who was so very hard at the bend of his hip and Souichi felt every inch of it, was definitely going to take this the wrong way. The kisses pressed up his neck rounded around a groan.

Oh no.

Morinaga pressed right back, which was both really good, because it felt amazing, and really bad, for the same reason. Souichi burrowed his face in the hollow of his neck to pant hot breaths against his shirt’s collar. He needed to push Morinaga away, like, fifteen minutes ago. Now, all he wanted was to keep him close and keep this going.


When the other suddenly stilled, Souichi pressed forward into nothing, embarrassing, and almost whined.
 Unsure of what facial expression to pull, he looked up, and, oh, yeah. Okay, he was fucked.

Morinaga all but loomed over him, smirking, admiring his handy work, somehow looking both cute and menacing in a way that had Souichi weak at the knees.

The absolute menace opened his mouth to speak what Souichi just knew would have been the horniest line ever. Whatever that was, though, he did not get to find out, as they were both very suddenly brought back to reality by the distinct sounds of heels hitting linoleum.


Time slowed down. They stood in petrified silence as the hurried steps got closer, and closer, and closer still, and then went right by their door before continuing down the hallway.

Morinaga leaned in, an unconscious movement to shield his lover. His thigh pressed harder between Souichi’s legs, sending a wave of misplaced arousal through him. The pleasure tangled with the dread in the pit of his stomach. Frozen in place, barely daring to breathe, all Souichi could do was to clench his jaw and let it run through him.
 He really fucking hoped Morinaga didn’t feel his dick harden further.

Neither of them dared to move until the sharp clip clop was fading into the distance, and the loudest sound around was once again the low hum of the neon lights.


Oh, this was bad bad.

Souichi struggled not to gasp for air, livid. What the fuck was Morinaga—no, what the fuck was he doing, in his office?
 They couldn’t be doing this. They absolutely could not be hooking up in a public building, that was his workplace for fuck’s sake. His workplace, with people walking by just a few meters away, oblivious to the fact that an unlocked and uninsulated door was the only separation between them and Associate Professor Tatsumi Souichi getting it on.

And why the fuck did that thought turn him on further? Wires must’ve crossed. Yeah, too many feelings at once, got confused. That’s why Souichi twitched in his too tight pants, so hard despite having yet to be touched, when he should’ve gone soft the moment reality dawned on him.

He just about short circuited when Morinaga, shameless, and just as hard, breathed out “fuuuuuuuck” in a low, hot voice, right in his ear.

He slowly, deliberately, rolled his hips forward again. The guy didn’t even try to hide or downplay how much he was into this, no, he fully leaned into it. If Souichi hadn’t already figured out that piece of his sexuality, he would’ve gotten it at that moment. Something about the shameless confidence made him dizzy.

His own cock answering to that, though, is what actually fried Souichi’s mind. It broke him. Too many things just happened, too fast, too much, in just a few seconds. That was the only explanation for his reaction.


He whined: “fuck, fuck, please, Morinaga—”


Breathless, he clung to the other man and gave into the need to grind back, seeking friction, indirect and messy, barely enough to satisfy him, and yet so good he struggled to stay on his feet.

Fuck. It was bad bad bad. He wanted Morinaga now.


Morinaga called out his name, a hot breath in his ear. Souichi struggled not to moan. Then, Morinaga whispered all low and dark and full of promises: “Souichi-san, I want you.”


That, of all things, had Souichi reconnect to reality. Hard.

‘I want you.’ He thought of Morinaga taking him. He thought of the couch. The couch in his office. He was in his office. In university. What the actual fuck was he doing? He was suddenly so, so extremely aware that if they could hear footsteps outside, then people outside could hear them just as well.

The realization doused him in ice water. What the fuck was he doing. If anyone—

Adrenaline took over. Souichi shoved Morinaga back fast and far enough to see the stupid confused look set on his face, and yet, still lust in his eyes—

He panicked.

Before he could stop himself, Souichi’s hand came down hard on Morinaga’s cheek.

SLAP

The sound resonated in the absolute silence of the room.

Regret set like a pit in Souichi’s stomach before he even felt the sting in his palm. That had not been necessary.


He had not tried to rebuff Morinaga once yet until moments ago, not really, at least, considering the kind of games they liked to play. And when he had, with the shove, he hadn’t given him a chance to actually listen and back off, before hitting.

A twinge of guilt crept in. This wasn’t Morinaga’s fault… Well, okay, no, it was, but Souichi was just as guilty to have allowed it, encouraged it even, and almost, almost let it happen. Fuck, he had actually just asked him for more, hadn’t he?

The pain in his hand was incredibly sobering.


There was an apology and a few accusations, because for fuck’s sake, Morinaga should also know better, on the tip of his tongue, ready to roll, when Souichi snapped out of it and focused back on the other man.

The words did not make it out of his mouth.

Morinaga was—he looked… oh, wow.

…

Well, that was new.

So, it had certainly not been the first time that Souichi had slapped Morinaga. It had been a while though. It was also the first time he’d done it so completely out of the blue during—what had they been doing? sex?—during almost-sex, when he had been so enthusiastically into it.
 Reciprocating, even.

And boy oh boy. None of that even began to explain Morinaga’s state. The guy looked way too dazed for what had been, all things considered, a fairly restrained slap. Far from the worst he’d received from the same hands.

Morinaga brought a hand to his reddening cheek in disbelief. He looked at Souichi, confused, hurt, and something else that sent a rush through his veins. Then, he averted his gaze, uncharacteristically shy all of a sudden, and worried his lower lip between his teeth.


If he was misinterpreting something, here, Souichi would never recover from the shame, because, in that moment, his one and only thought rang along the lines of: “oh no, that’s hot”.


“Morinaga…” he began, unsure of where to go.


What did he want to say? Sorry I hit you, I panicked? That would be a start. Sorry I hit you, did you like it? More accurate, too forward. Sorry I hit you, I liked it? He could Not say that. But he could think it. In fact, he couldn’t un-think it.

In any case, Souichi decided that they had to get out of his office, like, an hour ago. Because if he was correct, if Morinaga really was into… whatever the fuck that was, Souichi really really needed to know, as soon as possible, to appease his running mind. And also to—

Okay, enough thinking!


Instead of apologizing like a normal, non horny person, like he should have, Souichi pulled what might have been his most confusing mixed signal to date. He took a step forward into Morinaga’s space, gently covered the hand on his cheek with his own, established an eye contact he hoped reassuring, and said: “let’s go home?”

Morinaga nodded, they hurried out without a word.

As expected, the walk home was tense. They left the university in silence and carried that vibe in the streets. Souichi tried his best to walk at a normal pace, neither too rushed nor too leisurely, feeling like he was somehow failing in both directions.

He unlocked the door while Morinaga hoovered behind him. He knew he was about to be slammed into a wall the moment that door closed behind them, and he did not feel excited about it, because he was a normal guy who didn’t like to be roughed around. (A normal guy who kind of wanted to rough around another guy.)


As soon as the latch turned close again, Morinaga pounced. Souichi only felt slightly irritated that he’d seen this one coming from a mile away and still let it happen—old habits die hard or something.
 That emotion was mostly dealt with by biting Morinaga’s lip, and then promptly forgotten about when the other growled in response and kissed him harder for it.

The feelings put on pause in his office earlier reignited almost too quickly, leaving Souichi dizzy with the sudden rush. He grappled for something to hold on to, ending up with one hand on Morinaga’s shoulder and the other on the back of his head, threaded through his hair.

It was just the perfect grabbable length. Morinaga made this too easy.


Souichi kissed back hard for a few more seconds because he needed it just as bad. Then, he yanked Morinaga’s head back.


The sound he let out was one of shock and unmistakable pleasure. Hot. For a moment, he stayed with his eyes closed and mouth agape, as though expecting something.
When Souichi didn’t let go or provide an explanation, not that he had one, let alone a plan, Morinaga tentatively met his gaze through long eyelashes, his pupils blown wide.

Yeah, Souichi thought, dizzy, he’s into that much, no doubt about it.


“You like this?” he heard himself ask. It wasn’t really a question.


Morinaga’s eyes widened. He didn’t deny it, but didn’t answer either… Rude. Rude like question he’d asked. So, Souichi tightened his grip. The sound he got in reply was as good as a yes, but he wanted to hear Morinaga say it, both for power trip reasons and because this was all very very new. He couldn’t do ambiguity.


“Ah!—yes, yes,” Morinaga finally stuttered, seeing that he wouldn’t get away without a straight response, face reddening with what seemed to be… embarrassment? A truly rare sight.


“I, please—” he cut himself off with a gasp when Souichi pulled again, just to get a feel of it.


Morinaga, looking like a dream Souichi would rather die than admit he ever had, forced his eyes to focus on him with, well, desire, of course, but also a hint of apprehension that took Souichi back.


“Are you… are you mad at me?” he asked.


Uh?


No, no he was not. Souichi was a lot of things, reeling, almost frustrated, perhaps anxious, and so very turned on, being a few, but he wasn’t mad.

His grip relaxed, though he didn’t let go.


Something must’ve shown on his face, because Morinaga continued: “earlier, in the office—”


Souichi cut him off before he could apologize: “I’m not mad.” Relief immediately washed over Morinaga’s face. “I, when I heard the footsteps,” he started explaining, suddenly embarrassed to not have considered how his behaviour might come across.

“You-you know I don’t like to do that in public,” he scowled, before reeling his horses back in and settling into a low glare.


Morinaga exhaled, relieved. “I’m sorry, I got carried away ,” he said. Then, before Souichi could place another word, and as if he didn’t just moan from having his hair pulled, Morinaga was back to being a sweet talker.


“But… now that we’re home and alone, can I do… that, Souichi-san?”


Souichi felt his face heat up. Damn. This guy never missed a beat, did he?

Morinaga actually waited for his answer, testing waters or something. Trying to make Souichi say it out loud, as if he didn’t know damn well that Souichi wanted this, had been wanting this for years now, and specifically wanted it right now.


Another day, another time, Souichi might’ve replied with embarrassed obfuscations, because, no matter how many times Morinaga pushed the same buttons, he never quite got used to it. But, on this day, Souichi had started something that he would quite like to continue, and the thrill emboldened him.

Fuck it, two could play at this game.

He combed through Morinaga’s dark locks to find a steady hold again, not pulling, just keeping him in place, and replied: “I don’t know, can you?”

There it was again. That look on Morinaga’s face. Surprise, then shock, then followed by something raw and wild. His face really was an open book, Souichi wondered how he had never caught on to this… thing about him before.

Had it always been there? And was it the pain he liked, the loss of control, or being talked back to?

Souichi swallowed dry and licked his lips, both to prepare for words and to bid for time while he gathered courage.


“Morinaga,” he began, unsure and yet so certain of the question on the tip of his tongue, “when I slapped you earlier… you liked that, didn’t you?”


The other man froze. He flushed a deep shade rarely seen on his face, and, before Souichi could predict it, he surged forward. He only managed to halt Morinaga by the hair when he was a breath away from his lips.


“Did you?” He asked, again, meaning to sound assertive, though he felt rather febrile.


Morinaga searched for words, uncharacteristically cagey about his desires. Souichi held his gaze, not willing to let this one go.

“I… yeah,” the other finally admitted with a small voice, “yeah, I kinda did.”

Souichi had already known the answer before he asked, but the confession still knocked the air out of him. Maybe it was Morinaga’s oddly cute reaction, maybe it was the way this was real.

He did not praise Morinaga, did not call him good for answering correctly, but he thought it really hard.
 Maybe one day. Rather than imagining what one day might entail, he released the tension keeping him from Morinaga’s bruising kiss.


Morinaga, for all the shy honesty of his admission, was no less forward in his approach than before. Soon enough, he had Souichi panting in his mouth again, a thigh between his legs, and possessive hands firm on his waist. Just as earlier, just right. Except this time there was no threat of being found, and no excuse for Souichi to latch on, to run away from this thing he had just started.

He couldn’t bring himself to mind it as much as he should have, though, not when Morinaga was pressing into him like he couldn’t even wait to remove their shoes before getting to business.

…If he could have his way, Souichi was pretty sure the guy would do him in the entryway. That, he was really not too interested in. They needed to move.

Morinaga left his mouth to press hot kisses on his neck. Forgetting where he was going with this for a moment, Souichi craned his head to give him better access. When Morinaga blew hot air on his ear, another underhanded move, Souichi thought “oh no, he’s taking the lead again.”

He seriously considered letting it happen—not the sex by the front door, that was not happening—but allowing his partner to be in charge. Then, he remembered he had a solution for that.

He tightened his grip on Morinaga's hair. The moan it earned him right in his ear made his knees weak.

Right. Right right right, okay.

This newfound weakness, kink, thing, whatever of Morinaga, Souichi had plans with it. The plan being to exploit the fuck out of it starting… Well, he meant to, like, 10 minutes ago, but starting now.

He firmly did Not entertain the part of him that reflexively flinched at the fact that he had plans regarding sex with a man. It was already far too late to worry about that, so he could delay it a bit further.

(He would worry, later, when Morinaga wasn’t in the palm of his hand, making him feel desired and rousing his own desire in a way that was so right it overshadowed any thoughts that it might not be.)

Gentle nibbling on his earlobe broke him out of thoughts.


“Morinaga,” he gasped, “not here.”


The other man ignored him.

Of course.

Morinaga Tetsuhiro may have enjoyed being slapped across the face (oh god), he was still Morinaga Tetsuhiro, someone who fundamentally did not answer to anyone when turned on.

“Morinaga,” Souichi called again, louder this time. No answer, just a press of teeth to his neck. An acknowledgment and… not quite a refusal, but certainly a defiance. Almost a dare. Hot. And not helpful at all.

What would Souichi have to do to…

Hm.

A dare, right?

Okay.

For the record, Souichi wasn’t happy to be ignored… It would have been a lie, however, to deny the thrill he felt at being given a reason to do what came next.

Hand in hair: tightened. Morinaga’s face: pulled up and away from his neck. His eyes: dazed.

Before he could properly think about what the fuck he was doing, Souichi braced his arm and slapped Morinaga across the face for the second time that day.

His eyes closed on the impact.

Souichi hit with his left hand this time. The angle was awkward, and Morinaga’s face too close to allow for much momentum, but he hit. He felt the sting in his palm. No doubt the other felt it on his cheek.

Morinaga gasped. Souichi didn’t dare breathe.

He really, really, really fucking hoped the guy hadn’t been lying or confused when he said he liked it, because there was no coming back from this one. If he’d been wrong, Souichi would have to flee the country. If he’d been right, though… Apprehension, curiosity, and tentative arousal coiled in Souichi’s guts.

Then, Morinaga looked back at him, all wide eyed and bewildered, and whimpered: “holy shit?”

All the fear was drowned out by a wave of desire. Holy shit indeed. Morinaga hadn’t lied. Souichi hadn’t been imagining things. He liked it. Morinaga liked it.

“…Souichi-san?”

“Yeah,” he replied, voice unsteady, unsure of what to say. Deep breath don’t panic, we’ve been here before.

“Yeah. Okay,” he wasn’t even sure what he agreed to but… “but not here.”

Morinaga didn’t need to be told twice this time.

They left their shoes and bags a mess at the door, as Morinaga all but dragged Souichi to his room.

For the third time that day, Souichi finds himself pressed up against a flat surface with a tongue in his mouth.

Morinaga kisses him like he’s been starved of him for months, like he can’t get enough of him and this could fade away at any moment.
 His hands roam all over, hastily unbuttoning Souichi’s shirt and pulling off his tie, caressing skin, grabbing and pushing, like he can’t decide whether he wants to pull the other tight up against him or pin him to the wall.

He’s rough, pushy, and forward, and yet… and yet there is something in the hunger of his kisses and the neediness of his touch that’s so desperate. It inflames Souichi, makes him dizzy with want.

Not for the first time, he thinks I want to give him everything.

The nuances of that, he can unpack later. (And by later he means never. He will put that thought in a vault with all the other terrifying thoughts that Morinaga makes him think, and then he will lose the key, until Morinaga finds it again and makes him have even worse ones thoughts, like “I want him forever” and “I have f**lings for him”.)

The emotional shit can wait. Right now, giving Morinaga what he wants means kissing with teeth, and that, Souichi can do.

He nips at the man’s lower lip, and the hold on his waist tightens, so he does it again, harder, and swallows the strangled noise Morinaga pours in his mouth. Rough making out is hardly anything new, but it’s been a while since they’ve been there. Kisses, as of late, are more of the tender and passionate kind. Souichi doesn’t mind that at all, but the old-new edge in the air is thrilling in a different way.

Morinaga is so reactive to every bit of pain Souichi gives him, it’s maddening how he hasn’t noticed before… Okay, to be fair, he’d also been doing his darndest to not look or listen to or touch Morinaga, for most of their… their… liaison.

Point is: it is the pain. That’s what has Morinaga, the ever savvy and seductive one in bed, the one who is never shy to see and to be seen, to touch and to be touched, that’s what has him gasping in Souichi’s mouth and faltering under his touch.

The things he could do…

Feeling bold, drunk on lust, and too aroused to reason, Souichi pulls Morinaga’s favourite move on him: he pushes a leg between his.

He’s hard, obviously, not that Souichi’s own dick cares that this is old news. Morinaga’s hips stutter under the pressure. Pride surges.
 So, is this how Morinaga feels when he pushes Souichi around and gets him too hot and bothered to stop himself from grinding back?
 Fascinating… He presses harder, just to get a feel.

“Oh, oh god Souichi-san, Souichi-san, oh god, oh—”

Fuck that’s hot. So hot. Morinaga losing his composure is an incredible sight. Souichi’s caught glimpses of it before, when he did something unexpected, or said the right words at the right time, he’s seen Morinaga go a bit wild and unrestrained. Those moments always get to him, always get him dangerously elated.

“Yeah, that’s right,” he mumbles, low, mostly to himself.

Maybe Morinaga hears it and that’s what makes him keen. Maybe it’s just that Souichi shifts his weight to get better leverage on that one leg between the other’s. Either way, something has him begging: “please, please, please.”

For a split second, Souichi imagines dropping to his knees to give Morinaga the release he so prettily asks for. Obviously, he can’t do that. That’s far too much, and Morinaga doesn’t look like he’d have much self control. Just the thought of him pushing into his mouth too abruptly… too rough… that—

Hm.

Uh.

Well, he really did mean to think it was scary, perhaps disgusting even, but…

Instead of going down that rabbit hole in his mind or in real life, Souichi shoves the thoughts and Morinaga away with a firm hand on his chest and a pull of his hair, for good measure. Morinaga cries out softly. He doesn’t resist.

That’s new, and very interesting. So he can be made pliant…

So, the thing is, for all his willingness to entertain Morinaga’s newfound thing—okay that’s too bold a lie even for him, Souichi’s just as curious about it—he still doesn’t actually know what he’s doing, or where the hell he’s going with any of this. There is no plan, and that’s a tad daunting.

Thankfully, Morinaga is who he is, someone who doesn’t like to sit still and look pretty.

He looks down at Souichi through dark pretty lashes, licks his bruised lips with a pretty pink tongue that can do sinful things, and opens his pretty mouth to say the most outrageous words Souichi has ever heard from him. And that bar is high.

“Souichi-san… could you do it again?”

Do what again? Souichi wants to ask. He doesn’t, though, because his mind answers ‘slap him’, and the idea knocks the air out of his lungs. Is that it? Is that what Morinaga’s asking for?

What else could it be…

“Please? I want you to…” Morinaga presses, like Souichi is supposed to just know what he means. Like one asks to be hit with a please.

…On second thought, if anyone would, it’d be Morinaga. Somehow, it makes sense.

Souichi considers it. Does he want to? Does he want to hit Morinaga? The answer to that is clear at the forefront of his mind: no, he does not, at this moment… But that’s not really the question, is it? Morinaga isn’t asking for punishment or for anger. He wants the kind of slap Souichi gave him in the entryway, a contact that will hurt, yes, but given and meant to be received for pleasure.

He looks at Morinaga, hard and panting in his grip. Waiting. Wanting. Morinaga, who moaned when Souichi pulled his hair and cursed when he bit his lip. He probably fucking loved it when Souichi scratched his back raw, didn’t he? And when he bit his neck almost bloody that one time… No, drop the hypothetical, Morinaga had absolutely loved it.

He thinks again of how the other looked at him earlier. Dazed, wide eyed, pink cheeked… cute, almost shy, and also openly and undeniably turned on.
When Souichi had slapped him, Morinaga had looked at him like he would do just about anything asked. Souichi can’t deny it, he liked that look. Would like to see it again.

He kind of wants to see how far this could go.

So he thinks it over again: does he want to hit please Morinaga?

Yes. Fuck it. Yes, he does.

Souichi swallows thick, heartbeat pulsing in his ears. He releases the other’s hair to take half a step back and regain use of his dominant hand. Okay. He’s going to do it.

Holding onto trust like a lifeline, Souichi slowly raises his hand, leaving ample time for Morinaga, and, honestly, for himself, to back away. Morinaga’s gaze flickers to it and then returns to Souichi’s, filled with nothing but eagerness.

This time, he hits hard.

The sharp sound of flesh hitting flesh resonates in his entire body.

Morinaga’s head turns on the impact; for a moment, dark hair obstructs anything but his half opened mouth.

The sound that comes out of it doesn’t start as one of pleasure but of surprise. Then, just as heat pulses in Souichi’s palm, it trips into a strangled moan.

This time, Souichi doesn’t stop breathing, he’s panting. Fuck. He can’t believe he’s done this. His hand hurts. He really fucking hopes Morinaga enjoyed this, otherwise he will have to cease existing to cope with the rush he feels.

Time seems to stretch as Morinaga soaks in the sensation for a moment. Then, he slowly turns back to meet Souichi’s gaze, and, holy hell.

Yeah, okay.

Fuck, the look on his face… Dazed and dark, wide eyed, lips parted. Yeah, Morinaga liked it, no doubt. He brings his fingers to his reddening cheek, and flinches at his own touch. His lower lip quivers.

Feeling rather out of it himself, Souichi tentatively steps in closer again. He brushes Morinaga’s hand away. The cheek radiates heat under Souichi’s fingertips before be makes contact with it. If his palm still stings painfully, he can’t imagine what Morinaga must be feeling.

Tender is apparently one of those feelings, because Morinaga leans into the hand that struck him. It’s kind of adorable, and kind of messed up, but in a really hot way that Souichi is way too out of his depth to even begin to unpack.

But Morinaga is fine. He’s more than fine, so Souichi can be fine…

At least that’s what he thinks until Morinaga whispers: “thank you.”

Souichi’s breath hitches in his throat. Maybe he’s not fine, actually, because what the hell? Who thanks someone after they hit them?

Morinaga Tetsuhiro, apparently. And he looks like he really meant it. It’s hard to believe this is the same man who likes to press Souichi’s face into the bed while taking him hard and fast… and yet, it makes sense, somehow.
 He should’ve seen that one a long time ago, shouldn’t he?

Souichi might’ve just opened Pandora's box, and he’s more aroused than scared about it.

“Souichi-san,” Morinaga whispers with dizzyingly earnest reverence, “I-I want you so bad…”

The question of what he should do about it hangs heavy in the air between them.

Souichi hears himself answer from outside his own body. First, “bed,” and Morinaga gently backs them up until the back of Souichi’s knees hit the mattress. Then, a single command, whispered from a recess of Souichi’s mind he wasn’t even aware of: “down.”

Morinaga drops to his knees without a sound. 
Souichi briefly wonders if he should leave the country, and decides he’d rather get head first.

Nuzzling at his crotch, Morinaga makes quick work of opening his slacks. Then, he swallows him whole in one fell movement, and all Souichi can do is hold on to his hair again and hope the neighbours aren’t home. Morinaga’s mouth is heaven and also way too much all at once for a first real touch after so much buildup.

Souichi pushes forward, the warmth is too abetting and the reward too gratifying to think of self restraint. Besides, Morinaga won’t mind. He doesn’t even choke, takes him all nice and smooth, swallows around his cock, and moans like he loves it when Souichi jerks up in his mouth—and, if the dreamy look in his eyes is anything to go by, he definitely does.

It’s hot, always has been, how much his partner loves doing this. Souichi feels his moans all the way behind his balls. Fuck, fuck fuck, he’s not going to last… it’s too much, too good, Morinaga is too…

Morinaga is…

He is… god, the things he does with that tongue… Morinaga had asked to be hit with a please, and then thanked Souichi for it. Unbelievable, in the best way.
 And now… now he’s swallowing him so deep that Souichi is hitting the back of his throat, and yet the hand splayed on his thigh is only holding on, not even trying to restrain Souichi when he does thrust forward and makes him choke…

The only way Souichi can see it, Morinaga is still thanking him.

He comes without a warning. His hands tighten in Morinaga’s hair, holding on for dear life as pleasure overtakes him. Quick, strong, all encompassing. Morinaga eagerly swallows everything he has to give.

Souichi’s knees give out; he falls back on the bed, half sitting, half collapsed forward, cradling Morinaga’s head as he struggles to catch his breath. Between his legs, Morinaga continues to suckle on his softening cock between ragged pants.
 That was. That was intense.

…he should probably check on. On his. Hm. He should probably check on Morinaga.

Carefully, Souichi wills his muscles to solidify from the state of jelly, and uncurls himself just enough to allow the other man to straighten up slightly and let Souichi fall out of his mouth with a sinful sound, though he stays low. Close and intimate

Souichi hadn’t realize he was looking for eye contact until he finds it. Morinaga’s gaze is unfocused and dark and full of feelings that aren’t scary as they should be. Souichi follows a tear streak down a flushed cheek to distract himself from the enormity of that, until the shiny trail meets Morinaga’s bruised and equally shiny lips. Breathing still laboured, he’s looking every bit as disheveled as Souichi expected of him, and no less shocking for it.


Then Morinaga, who it bears repeating is out of his mind, whispers through a broken voice: “thank you, Souichi-san.”

And the worst is that he really means it.

Absolutely unbelievable. Souichi almost wants to laugh. Morinaga gave everything without getting anything in return, and yet there he is, acting like Souichi did something.


It’s not clear who initiates the kiss this time, all Souichi knows is that he can’t escape the taste of himself on Morinaga’s tongue, and that he doesn’t mind.

Morinaga whines, hot and kind of pathetically strained. Souichi hears the sound of... fabric? Suit fabric. He peeks down to find Morinaga grabbing himself through his trousers. Oh. Right. He just came. Morinaga has not.

Suppressing with alarming ease the thought of ending sex right then and there because he got what he wanted, Souichi hums to indicate… he’s not sure what. Something like an acknowledgment, an “I’m still in.”

If he was someone else, he would hoist Morinaga up by the collar of his shirt and pull him on top in bed. He’s not, so Morinaga will have to do that part himself. The getting off his knees part, at least, and, well, if Souichi seems to drag him eagerly as he backs up the mattress while the other crawls over him, that’s not worth pointing out.

Kicking off his pants isn’t as easy as it could be with someone grinding on him, but Souichi manages. Morinaga’s wandering hands, firm, known, and knowing, has blood running quick through his veins again.
 By the time he’s mumbling something that just might’ve been “hurry, shit—hurry”, he’s half hard again, and the drag of Morinaga’s stupid pants is painful on it. Why is he even wearing those at this point—or a shirt??

Morinaga chuckles. It’s not mean, Souichi knows that, but, for a moment, shame at his own neediness threatens to curb his fickle ease. Then, he remembers that he can be mean.
 The smile on Morinaga’s lips disappears in a gasp when the soft hold on the back of his head returns to a tight grip.

That’s better.

Morinaga gets the message, or the move turns him on enough to get his dick out. Either way, he redirects his energy to undressing. Good. 
It’s kind of messy, in an endearing way, how he has half his shirt undone when he moves to fumble with his belt, all the while trying to kiss Souichi and grind on him. How unusual for his haste to make him less efficient.

Souichi helps him pull his shirt out of his pants without thinking much, thinks of pulling on the pants as well but decides to leave that to their owner. Instead, he focuses on the wet kisses Morinaga is now pressing on his neck and lets his hands remember how to open a shirt from muscle memory.

Morinaga shivers, he gasps: “yes, Souichi-san, yesss,” in his ear, like Souichi undoing a few buttons is the most arousing thing (it can’t be) or a huge deal anyway (it kind of is).

Morinaga finishes shrugging it off and finally kicks off his pants. His cock slaps hot and heavy on Souichi’s abdomen. His hips jerk at the contact, he grunts, and then he doesn’t stop pushing forward in sharp little thrusts that betray his desperation.


If he wants to get fucked good tonight, Souichi might need Morinaga to let some pressure out first. He’s wound up too tight, too close.
 There’s too much energy begging to spill out, and Souichi wants to take good care of him, so, he wraps his arms around the familiar back. It’s good, safe, and hot.

Soft kisses up his neck turn to gentle nips, and, for the first time since the very first time, Souichi dares to dig in his nails.

The reaction is immediate: “oh fuck—oh, Souichi-san, Souichi-san, Souichi-san, please, please please please.”

That’s it, Souichi thinks, feeling Morinaga’s hips stutter. That’s really all it takes, huh? Just a bit of attention, a touch of pain, and Morinaga is falling apart. He’s so reactive, so sensitive, and this odd kind of rough and forward submissive.

The friction between their bodies is barely a tease of what could be, but it seems enough for the other. Souichi holds him tight, raking his nails over unmarked flesh, because he needs the skin contact to not implode from the energy vibrating within him, and also because it makes Morinaga whimper.


So he lets Morinaga use him, lets him rut against his hip and press heated kisses to his neck. In response, Souichi claws at his back and bites his neck, reveling in every sound of pain and pleasure it draws out, somewhat aware that he’s moving to the rhythm of Morinaga’s beat.

“Your back,” Souichi says, “it will be worse than last time.”

Morinaga gasps: “oh fuck?” and Souichi knows he’s close.

There is always a certain pride in making his partner finish before he does. Morinaga falling apart is a rare sight. Making him fall apart so intensely, Souichi’s only caught glimpses of the results before. It’s enthralling, new, but not entirely uncharted territory. Souichi embraces him tighter, ready to catch him when he goes over the edge.

Morinaga comes with a shaky gasp. He tenses all over, trembles on the brink, and then he’s rutting forward, spilling in the space between their bodies. Souichi holds his shaking frame through it, gently grazing his nails over the marred shoulder blades in a soothing motion that can only rouse more pain.
 He’s fully hard again, but a certain sense of relief washes over him regardless, as Morinaga finds his own release in the heat of his body.

Then, all 187cm of Morinaga just about collapses over Souichi, who takes it with an oof, but allows it, feeling generous or something.

The weight is too heavy to be comfortable for long, never mind the sweat or the cum, but, for now, it’s fine.

Morinaga nuzzles his neck with a content sound, which is kind of cute if Souichi’s being honest. He could start being self conscious now, or mind that Morinaga is totally leaving him hanging, but he doesn’t really want to.

Still catching his breath, Morinaga does soon lift himself up on his elbows, freeing Souichi of the world’s heaviest weighted blanket. They both wince at the feeling of sticky between their stomachs. Souichi can’t find it in himself to mind much though, not when Morinaga, looking strangely radiant in this disheveled state, smiles down at him, like he’s anything to be enamoured with.

He dips down for a quick kiss before his face entirely leaves Souichi’s field of vision as he reaches for something in the headboard…

His neck. God. His neck. It’s certainly not as bad as the last time, but still, what a sight. The imprints of Souichi’s teeth are still visible in a few red bruises that he has a feeling aren’t done blooming.
 A small part of him feels guilty for liking the sight. Another part wonders what Morinaga’s back looks like and twitches at the thought.

Before Souichi can execute the deranged idea of reaching up to lick at the marks, Morinaga is back on his level with lube in hand. He kisses Souichi, who immediately threads a hand in his hair again. A safe hold.


Morinaga fumbles with the bottle for a moment, and then cool liquid is being poured on Souichi’s taint and the slick pad of Morinaga’s thumb is rubbing it between his cheeks. He prods, too gentle, too caring for how hard Souichi is.

“Morinaga, hurry,” he urges, too far gone to care about how needy it sounds.

Morinaga dares to chuckle, and Souichi feels his ears heat up—okay, maybe he does still care a bit.

“Morinaga,” he warns, aiming for stern, though he’s too out of breath for it to come across as more than imperviously needy. The tightening of his grip should make up for it.
 The effect comes without delay; Morinaga’s breath hitches and he switches to efficiency.

His reward is a caress by the same hand, before it tightens again, involuntarily, when he slips in two fingers at once, and Souichi has to close his eyes and swallow a hiss. 
It’s not quite painful, Morinaga knows what he’s doing and Souichi’s used to it, but it is uncomfortable for a few moments. Still, Souichi’s only thought is “good, finally,” as he forces himself to relax with deep breaths. The other waits for him patiently, and then he’s curling his fingers just right, and Souichi is throwing his head back, biting down the yes that wants to come out of his throat.

They make it quick, and Morinaga makes it good by pressing his thumb behind Souichi’s balls in that place that makes him go a bit crazy and rubbing tight concentric circles there. It’s a little too good, honestly, has Souichi worry that he won’t last very long at all… but then the though of Morinaga fingering him through an orgasm and then fucking him to another one just turns him on too much for that to be any reason to slow down.

Another digit presses in, Souichi arches, leaks on his stomach, tries not to shove himself back on the fingers inside, and almost starts to wonder why he shouldn’t. Morinaga’s semi poking at his inner thigh turns out to be that reason, getting him ready becomes a priority over chasing his own pleasure.

He returns Morinaga’s lazy neck kisses with teeth. Gentle nibbling has the guy sigh in content, a firmer press of canines, and he’s grinding forward.

That’s about all he can take. He’s ready, that’s enough. Souichi wants… he wants Morinaga as desperate and good as earlier while he’s inside, moaning his name and fucking him harder for every bit of pain— fuck, that image alone…

Souichi needs it now, or he’s going to lose his mind. Might’ve lost it already. He allows himself to tell Morinaga “enough,” with a push on his shoulder, because that’s better than fully shoving him away and sitting on his cock.

Thankfully, Morinaga doesn’t barter or drag this out any further. Still plient, obedient, and good for Souichi, he retrieves his fingers, who shudders at the sudden loss, and tries to look unbothered, though he’s fairly sure he failed at that, like, an hour ago.

As Morinaga pulls away, Souichi opens eyes he doesn’t recall closing.
 Between their bodies, he sees himself, a portrait of indecency, painted with cum and spit and sweat glistening on flushed skin. Further back, Morinaga, framed by paler thighs, makes a breathtaking picture, all debauched and alluring, knees spread as he reclines on his heels and—shit—strokes himself slick with more lubricant. A picture of casual confidence and everything Souichi wants to run away from and keep close all at once.
 He swallows dry, and lets the dark trail of hair above Morinaga’s pubis guide his gaze upwards, until their eyes meet. Morinaga stares right back at him with unabashed desire while he touches himself. The intensity is nigh unbearable, Souichi can’t look away.

He wants it so bad. He wants him back inside right now, wants their hips flush so he can dig his nails into the expanse of Morinaga’s thighs. He bites his lip, his cock twitches again, a sticky line of precum stretching between it and his stomach.

Souichi knows he has definitely lost his mind when, without breaking eye contact, he pulls the other man closer with the leg he’s got hooked over his thigh. Still submissive in his own strange and in-control way, Morinaga crawls right back over him.
 One hand at the bend of Souichi’s knee pushes it up to his chest, and Morinaga shuffles forward so that the other’s hips rest on his thighs. With his other hand he guides himself home.

To be fully pinned down like that, so open and vulnerable, spread out and bent, it should be humiliating, and there once was a time where that emotion would’ve overpowered all the others. Right now, though, Morinaga handles Souichi like he’s precious, like he’s everything he’s ever wanted, looking at him with so much desire and a reverence that Souichi doesn’t think he deserves, but that quells his worries regardless. 
It’s embarrassing, but not degrading.

A drop of sweat spills from where Morinaga’s hand burns Souichi’s skin, at the bent of his knee. It carries the heat as it rolls down his thigh and hangs on to his skin for a breath, before it drips on his abdomen. He’s on fire. Every nerve ending in Souichi’s body is on fire, and yet, he shivers, because the only heat he wants is Morinaga’s, inside of him, and he doesn’t have it yet.

Morinaga rubs his cock between his cheeks, teasing. Souichi almost tells him to hurry the fuck up, but he bites his tongue and settles for a low glare. Then, Morinaga presses on, only to slip and slide against his hole. They both curse.

“Shit, Morinaga—” he start. The rest of the sentence goes unsaid, because Morinaga finally, fucking finally, pushes in.
 Souichi curses again, and, this time, it’s not a complaint.


The stretch has him panting short breaths. He hears a keen and only realizes it’s his own when the wrecked note is joined by Morinaga’s low hum. He pushes in slow and steady.

Souichi lets strain and relief wash over his body, thick like honey. He allows himself not to think, but just feel the bliss spread from the pit of his stomach to his fingertips. He trembles in the heat. The feeling is familiar, safe, but no less overwhelming for it.

His lover all but collapses back into his arms, where he belongs, and Souichi arches to press himself closer and closer still, even when there’s no more space to bridge. Above him, Morinaga moans, says something about how tight he is, and Souichi almost growls at the implied suggestion that they should take it slow. He grinds, trying to fuck himself back, too desperate to give a damn about how it looks.


He doesn’t realize how close he is until Morinaga presses his thumb right on his perineum as he bottoms out, and it hits all once.

Oh fuck.

Morinaga’s pelvis sits flush against his ass. Souichi jerks, gasps.

He’s going to come.

Fuck. He’s going to come. He’s going to come so hard. A part of him thinks hold it, for whatever reason, pride, perhaps. The rest of him knows that’s not an option.
One moment, the pleasure is rolling in and ebbing away in a steady buildup. The next, the tidal wave of his orgasm looms over, giving him about two seconds of forewarning before it crashes. Souichi feels his body tense, his dick going rigid, and his ribs expand as he heaves, before he stops breathing altogether, and he’s coming.

It’s as intense as is it unexpected. All he can do is let it wash over and rock his body.

Morinaga makes a delighted surprised noise above, and then he’s whispering praises that Souichi is in no state of mind to process, not when there is a steady pressure pushing just right inside, and the pad of a finger massaging behind his balls, as he pulses and pulses.

“Are you coming?” Morinaga asks, bewildered lust in his low, breathy voice. It’s followed by a moan when Souichi tenses and shakes harder for it.

Yes, yes he is, he very fucking obviously is. He doesn’t answer, because it’s a stupid question, and because he absolutely cannot form a coherent sentence right now. He only tightens his vice grip around the other man’s shoulders.

“So good, Souichi-san,” he praises, “it feels so good inside you when you come.” With these words, Morinaga carries him through it. He bends down to lap at a nipple just as pleasure finally begins to recede and the tension that seized Souichi’s body melts.


Fuck.

He didn’t mean to… just now. Souichi’s head is spinning.

Morinaga doesn’t wait for him to catch his breath or onto the embarrassment, though. Through it and beyond, he grinds, and soon Souichi is twitching in overstimulation as much as in pleasure. The sensations molt together in the pit of his stomach, heavy and electrifying.
The continued pressure and the fact that Morinaga is still hard and wanting won’t let him go soft anyways.

He just came, and it’s too much, but he doesn’t want to stop. It’s overwhelming, but he won’t be satisfied until Morinaga is.

The man in question continues to mumble praises and pepper his face with kisses. He says something about how wonderful it is that he can come from that alone, and it’s way too late to be embarrassed, but some things will probably never not get to Souichi, so he feels his ears heat up anyways. He protests weakly, something about Morinaga not saying such things, when they both know he doesn’t mean it.

It’s at least easy enough to regain a sense of control, when all it takes to make the other’s voice hitch is for Souichi to slide his hands down his back again.

Under his fingertips, all across Morinaga’s broad back, sinew the sweltering lines of his earlier passion. Souichi watches his gaze grow clouded again and his lashes flutter, as he begins to trace back the paths he carved. The sweet praising voice stutters, then falters, and that makes a new kind of pride swell inside him.
 Making Morinaga feel too good to keep talking is a high achievement.

He does not resist the sharp tension that seizes his hands when Morinaga lets his head fall next to his and groans in his ear. It makes his hips jerk, disrupting his slow grind, so Souichi does it again, and again, until Morinaga’s eyes are falling close and he’s picking up a rhythm.


The rush of earlier is gone, replaced by a slow, passionate intimacy.

Their lips find each other again amidst the aftermath. The kiss is wet and messy, until Morinaga finds the right angle again. Then, it becomes more panting into each other’s mouth, until Morinaga brings his attention back lower to Souichi’s chest.

Souichi’s cock still lays neglected between their bodies, and he’s glad for it, because he wants this to last as long as his lover does this time. Like this, with pleasure pulsing slow and deep from the inside, he’s hovering on the edge, in bliss. Hot drops of something roll down his stomach to pool at the hollow of his chest, where the apex of his ribs meets his pectorals. Every physical sensation reverbates tenfold. Morinaga’s hand at the bend of his knee and the other, now braced by his head, are just about everything keeping him together.

“Souichi-san,” Morinaga pants from above. “Souichi-san, I want you.”

Well, he’s having me already, Souichi thinks. He’s not too sure what that’s supposed to mean, and his mind is a little too scrambled to think. Nobody should have to reason when their prostate is being pressed.

Morinaga looks up at him with the same pleading eyes as earlier, and Souichi gets it.

Right. Right. Morinaga, he doesn’t usually ask, he takes, except… except when it comes to pain, apparently.

He shivers. Morinaga keens.

He wants to hear more of that.

Feeling only further wrecked than before, Souichi digs his nails into the other’s back again, and, slowly, so very slowly, drags them up from the lowest point he can reach, near the small of his back, all the way to the peak of his spine.
 Under his claws, Morinaga cants his hips, arches, and shivers.

The hand that had been keeping Souichi’s knee firmly bent up to his chest slips in the sweat of it all. Morinaga chokes, and Souichi has to close his eyes and hold on tight to take in the sensation of almost brutal pressure inside. More wetness spills on his stomach.
 He could come like this again. No, he’s definitely going to come like this again. Wants to come like this.

Fuck, he’s close again.

Morinaga pants right in his ear: “yes, yes, Souichi-san, perfect, you’re perfect… making me feel so good—ah!—oh god, don’t stop, don’t stop, please.”

Between the praises and the pleas, the rush of power has Souichi feeling all sorts of things. So aroused he’s dizzy is one of them, but, mainly, there is a desire to take care of the ridiculously tall man pinning him down right now. Morinaga, who overpowers and overwhelms him while entrusting him with the reins, who would take anything Souichi gives him…

His hands linger on Morinaga’s nape for a moment, weighing his options, before he settles for a course of action.
It’s more instinct than reflection: a smooth lock of hair grazes his knuckles, so his hand finds itself threaded through it again, as it should, and Morinaga all but purrs. The next natural move is then to pull, gently, because pain is always more intense after a break, when nerves are still tender.

Morinaga doesn’t resist, he lets his eyes fall close and arches as far back as Souichi pulls him. When he can’t bend any further, he whimpers and stays still, buried deep inside. A twist of the wrist, more tension on his scalp, sends him gasping and throbbing inside.

Fuck, he’s so into it.

So into this, so into him, so into the pain…

With the shining column of his throat exposed, there is only one way forward. Souichi’s free hand continues its ascent, with just enough pressure to leave red marks that should be gone by the next day. That sounds it drags out of Morinaga’s mouth are guttural.

Souichi is intimately aware that he’s probably the insane one for leaking more at the sight and the sounds of it, but he couldn’t be bothered to care at this moment. The pleasure is too all encompassing, the power a drug that dulls his anxieties, and the need to make Morinaga feel good too great for him to dwell on his usual reservations.

A slight touch under his Adam's apple has Morinaga’s eyes shoot wide open, he pants harder.
Souichi doesn’t press. The other is free to breathe. But he knows how the slightest touch in this vulnerable point is a rush in and of itself.

Everything hangs in stasis for a few long seconds. Morinaga’s breath grows shallow and quick, he begins to shake ever so slightly, and makes a strangled sound. In an instant, Souichi’s touch is gone from his throat, and the hand still firmly threaded in his hair releases him from the stress position.
 Morinaga gasps for air like he’d been deprived, and, for a split second, Souichi wonders if this was not too much, too far, all at once. He doesn’t have the time to begin to worry, however, as Morinaga picks back up the pace with febrile vigour.

In the obscurity of the room, Morinaga’s eyes are as dark and wet as the hair that sticks to his forehead. He looks at his lover like he wants to devour him and be devoured. Souichi shivers; he’d allow it.

That’s when he resumes his way back down Morinaga’s body, the front this time

In the newness, he claws over Morinaga’s pectorals harder than he meant to, not that it seems to be a problem at all. It makes him gasp and jerk forwards, rocking Souichi’s body. He presses his knee further back up and thrusts inside in earnest.

Souichi moans, loud. His eyes threaten to roll back as Morinaga truly takes him, hard and fast, but he resists, because he wants—no, needs to see the other man’s face in pleasure. For every drag of his nails, Morinaga hits in harder, ever attentive to his aim, because he’s nothing if not a considerate lover.

He pants and groans, desperate, loud, unbound, and almost screams when the sharp edge of a nail crosses a hardened nipple.
 It wasn’t on purpose, but, judging by the “yesyesyes” he chants, Morinaga liked it.

If he wasn’t shy and this wasn’t quite as new, Souichi would have pulled and twisted the sensitive flesh. He files that one away in the back of his mind as yet another thing he should’ve guessed before, based on how Morinaga worships his own chest.

Instead, Souichi’s gratitude comes in the form of sinuous marks further down his stomach. He allows himself to just feel, to map the terrain of Morinaga’s taught abdominals, feel the shape of muscles under the souple skin, how they tense when he pushes forward, and stretch when he pulls away.

Careful digits graze the beginning of the trail of coarse hair just above his navel, a stark contrast to the hand still firm at the back of Morinaga’s head. Souichi lets his touch wander lower still, to Morinaga’s lower stomach, where he is softer, and the hair thicker. His touch glides easily in the sweat. The other man’s skin is scalding hot, and Souichi wants nothing more than to burn burn burn.

Their teeth clash, it’s rough and messy. Morinaga bites at his lip too, and Souichi doesn’t even blink when it goes straight between his legs. He keeps leaking over his stomach with every thrust, so close.

He pulls the other’s hair tighter and tighter, arches and rocks with his quickening rhythm, drowning in the moans and grunts and praises poured into his mouth, his neck, his chest. 
Morinaga’s never been particularly quiet, at least not when it comes to talking, but rare are the times Souichi recalls him being so vocal.

“Are you close?” Morinaga asks, breathless, before blowing cold air on a nipple he’d just bitten. “I’m close—so close, wanna come with you.”

Delirious, Souichi might’ve nodded. He’s been close since he came earlier, somehow, and, if Morinaga wants him to come he will. That’s all he needs.

It’s not clear what Morinaga meant by “so close,” but Souichi’s pretty sure it’s not “right now,” so he has to focus on his breathing really hard and clench to not get there before him, this time. The other gasps and falters for a moment.
 A thrust just right and Souichi throbs, once. Barely hanging on, he pants, slack jawed. White leaks from his cockhead, mixing with precum.

If he lets go for even a second it’ll be over. Shit, Morinaga better have meant that, about being close.

As if on cue, he calls again: “so good, Souichi-san, so close,” voice increasingly strained. “Can I—shit—can I keep-”

“Yes,” Souichi moans before he can finish asking. “Yes, Morinaga, Morinaga.”

So, Souichi is not exactly thinking when he does what comes next. He’s not thinking at all, actually, working on pure instincts and whatever kind of brain fever they share.

Willing his boneless body to solidify some, he slides his hands to Morinaga’s shoulders and presses his thumbs into the hollows of his trapezoids. It has the man almost jump upwards with a confused yelp that trips into a gasp. Taken by surprise, he looks down to Souichi with the beginning of a pout in his bottom lip and a hint of impervious question in his eyes.

Souichi might have felt bad if he had stopped moving at all, but Morinaga only hastens his pace after a brief fumble, and it’s him who has to hang on and not lose track of his intentions here. He almost forgets himself and lets Morinaga just bring them both to completion like this.

He finds himself again in the syllables of his name in the other man’s mouth. A plea, a praise, a call for him. Right. Souichi has a design, and he will see it through.

He watches his own arm move away from Morinaga’s burning skin as though in a dream. The other glances at it, his eyes widen almost comically before they come back to meet Souichi’s own. Elated, he tries to keep his upper body straight, to make it easier, which is kind of adorable, but he still gives harsh little thrusts between moments of grinding, and Souichi has to bite his lip and focus really hard to steady his arm before he goes for it. Morinaga shivers in anticipation, so fucking turned on at the mere prospect of pain.

Souichi still can’t really believe what he’s doing, but he’s too fucked out and too hard to really give a shit about it right now. What’s another time going to do anyways? He braces himself, Morinaga closes his eyes, and he goes for it.

SLAP

His open palm comes down hard on Morinaga’s cheek for the fourth time. His eyes close on impact, but Souichi swears they roll back behind his eyelids. A shudder passes through his whole body, he makes a strangled sound, and then, just as pain pulses inside Souichi’s palm, Morinaga topples over, moaning his name over and over, and he’s coming.
 With the same hands that struck, Souichi catches him, because it just feels right in that wild moment to cradle Morinaga’s face and press their foreheads together. So, Souichi holds him through it, feeling him throb inside as he ruts, as he gasps and grunts loud, breathless, uninhibited, and so, so beautiful when he falls apart.

Souichi is right there with him. He arches and grinds on the other’s stomach, once, twice, and then Morinaga is pressing closer, and Souichi is spilling between their abdomens, with breathless little gasps.

It’s nothing like the earth shattering experience Morinaga appears in the throes of, and it almost hurts to climax thrice in such a short span of time, but it’s worth it, for the little “thank you”’s Morinaga murmurs in his neck while gently rocking them through his pleasure, long after Souichi’s has faded away.

Everything is a bit of a blur after.

Morinaga flops over just when Souichi thinks he can begin to cool down, ruining that, and he thinks that groaning is going to convince him he’s not overheating, until he is poked in the sides, hard.

He straightens up with a distinctly less content sound that Souichi will not let himself take pity on.

“I don’t like that kind of pain,” he pouts, which is all Souichi needs to lose his remaining sympathy, despite the roughness of his voice.

Before Souichi can even think of how to react to that comment, the now smug bastard pulls out in one swift movement. It leaves him entirely unable to formulate a thought. The only comfort in how the sharp withdrawal sends him twitching is that it also makes Morinaga gasp.

The guy apologizes, and sounds just unsteady enough for Souichi to decide he can forgive him, just this once. He still mutters a “shut up” for good measure.

Warmth trickles down his ass cheek. Souichi freezes.

Reality is coming back a lot quicker than expected.

A part of him wants to close his legs and hope Morinaga hasn’t noticed, another part hopes he has, because someone is going to have to clean up, and, frankly, this is Morinaga’s fault, so…

Thankfully, and as usual, Morinaga does. Without a word, he leans forward over Souichi, reaching for a towel in the headboard behind.

Outside, in the night, a car passes. Its headlights illuminate the room in a gyroscope of light.
 It’s only a flash, but it’s all Souichi needs to be aw struck all over again.

Morinaga, throat bared and stretched above him, glistening, dark. A constellation of blooming bruises and bitemarks red as lipstick kisses decorate the expanse of flesh, from the high of the jugular to the dip of his clavicle. And then, further down, the evidence of teeth turns to evidence of claws; dark trails only the tip of which can be seen before they are swallowed by the chiaroscuro of the passing light.

It’s gone almost as soon as it starts, and Souichi can only blink away the spots dancing in his vision after the brief overexposure. He can’t chase the vision, though, it’s seared into his mind, a snapshot he can’t deny. Had it lasted any longer, he might’ve been blinded entirely.

Fuck.

Fuck.

He’s completely fucked.

Before he can really spiral, Morinaga is back on his level. He smiles with his eyes, fond and familiar, reassuring. Souichi flushes, scared to know what the other might see in his face to look at him so.

The tenderness of the moment is only partly broken by the feeling of something wet and cold on his belly. Soft and methodical, Morinaga cleans him. Souichi forces himself to relax, or, maybe, he forces himself to accept the response of his body to sigh, shiver, and unwind under the caresses and the care.

He squirms, then groans when Morinaga pushes a finger inside again, and crosses his arms over his face. It’s necessary, and he won’t complain, because that would mean he’d have to finger himself and he’d rather not, but still. The way Morinaga can keep a cool face while doing this might make it worse, or better, who knows.

Once done, Morinaga turns his attention to himself. Still splayed on his bed, Souichi makes no move to leave. He’s tired, he’s almost cold but still heated, and he’s positive that if he tried to walk his legs would give out. So, he contents himself to peer from under the arm thrown across his face, aware that he would be caught if Morinaga glanced up, and somehow unable to care. It will be a problem for when it happens.

When it happens… it will be a problem when Morinaga, haloed by the halogen lighting they never turned off in the hallway, looks down at Souichi and catches him looking. When he catches Souichi in his room, on his bed, laid atop his sheets soaked in his sweat. In Morinaga’s space with Morinaga’s scent on him, where Souichi etched himself onto Morinaga’s back in a feverish passion he’s never—

When it does happen, Souichi is too busy looking properly at Morinaga’s torso to really notice it. The lines he sees there are only a darkish pink, which is still, well, they’re still there, Souichi did that, all on his own, during… he did that…
At least, the marks seem faint enough that they might fade by morning.

He decides he will simply Not think about how Morinaga’s back got tenfold the attention, not until he’s confronted with it again, at least. He can pretend the worst of it is superficial for now.

“Are you okay?” whispers a voice, soft in its roughness.

Souichi might’ve nodded, or maybe just made an expression that carried the same feeling. Taking his lack of words and his relaxed position as a cue, Morinaga doesn’t press, and Souichi is very glad for it.

He is okay, he thinks. He is okay, but he’s not certain he’d be okay with saying that much out loud. The endorphins are beginning to ebb away, and reality is seeping in with as much delicacy as a jackhammer.

“Shower later?”

That is something Souichi can agree with.

They pull the covers from under and slip into the fresh scenting linens. Morinaga cuddles way too close, prompting Souichi to wiggle away until they’ve figured out a compromise of touching and not touching, a well practiced ritual, at this point.

The last thing he hears, before sleep takes him unexpectedly strongly, is an “I love you,” whispered in his ear.

When Souichi wakes up to Morinaga’s alarm, he is slightly overheating under bed sheets and a warm body half draped over him. The heavy blanket hums in discontent, then hugs him tighter and sighs, happier.

For a second, Souichi wishes there were alarms that could be turned off with a thought. Then, Morinaga stretches out just enough to turn it off and it’s as good. He yawns, and settles back over Souichi, who lets him, because slightly too hot is better than morning cold.

When Morinaga doesn’t move again though, he forces himself to mutter: “it’s morning.”

God. His voice is rough even for the morning. …It’s too early to care.

“Yeah,” his blanket agrees. “‘S not really, though.”

Right. Morinaga keeps his alarm even on days off, something about keeping a schedule, and he usually abides by it. From the way he’s decidedly not moving, however, there’s a feeling this morning will be an exception. Souichi won’t press him on it, he’s more than happy to sleep in for once. Besides, Morinaga’s alarm is set to what, six thirty in the morning? Around that time. So it's stupid early anyways, and it’s a sunday.

“Do you wanna wake up?” he asks, still.

Souichi considers it for a second. No, not really… But old habits die hard, and as much as he can decide not to think about his decision to sleep in, in Morinaga’s arms, agreeing out loud is a different matter. He really doesn’t want to wake up, though, he’s comfy.

“Dunno,” is the non-answer he settles on.

Morinaga hums a chuckle, then nuzzles his neck.

“Yeah, me neither.”

Souichi hadn’t expressed any opinion, but he doesn’t provide a correction, because, honestly, that’s what he really meant.

Morinaga nuzzles his neck and sighs, content to fall right back asleep. For a fleeting moment, Souichi thinks it a good idea to open his eyes and look at him, for whatever reason. With Morinaga’s face safely tucked in the crook of his neck, Souichi’s view is on his shoulder, a bit of nape, and a lot of hair.
 Right as his eyes fall close again, his sleep blurry vision steadies just enough to catch a glimpse of a reddish mark dancing across otherwise smooth skin.

Before the thoughts of why and how can solidify in his mind, Souichi firmly barrs them from ruining a good morning. He’ll have his little moment later, when he’s awake and emotionally ready to face the things he shan’t think of now.

There’s no reason to rush.

A few hours later, feeling all too awake and alert, warm from a morning shower and from the blood that rushed to his cheeks with no intention of going back down, Souichi sincerely regrets not leaving the country with the sound of that alarm.

At least he can’t see my face, he thinks, while he scoops up more healing salve with two fingers and hovers over already glistening skin. It doesn’t quite make up for the existential dread that fills him when the other tenses at the touch. As though aware that Souichi is going through it, Morinaga, a crybaby, forces himself to relax with a shallow breath, before the tension is even done seizing him.

He is aware, Souichi knows he is.

That makes it both harder and easier.

On one hand, shame is a funny thing that stings only more when others are aware of it, so, Morinaga feeling the nervous tremor in his hands only adds salt to the burn. It’s best left unacknowledged.


On the other hand, Morinaga’s awareness means Souichi doesn’t have to acknowledge it himself.

When he left the washroom earlier, to find Morinaga brushing his teeth at the sink, he could only stare in silence at his shoulders. He felt himself turn pale, then red, and then pale again. He couldn’t utter a word. Morinaga smiled a “good morning,” and then, noticing his disposition, turned his back away, and quickly wrapped up his ablutions. With the sound of the tap turning on and then off, he briskly left the room. Souichi’s only comfort was that, at least, he did not have to worry about the other mistaking his shock for regrets.


He could pretend this wasn’t real until Morinaga was out of his sight, and then process that it was oh so very real and have his little moment of distress about it while vigorously brushing his teeth and avoiding his reflection.


When Souichi had joined Morinaga in the living room later, holding a container of mint scented cream in clammy hands, he didn’t mistake Souichi’s avoidance of eye contact for reluctance. Morinaga smiled too bright to be looked at directly anyways.
 So, being known wasn’t all bad.

Souichi traces down a raised welt down the other man’s back, red hot on warm brown skin. Starting near the apex of his spine in a sharp, crescent groove, it decreases to a pink hue until only the ghost of it graces a back rib.
 From the side of Morinaga’s neck, a cloudy bruise punctuated by the purple evidence that teeth are to blame for it stares at Souichi. He ignores it in favour of a vicious scratch lower. One thing at a time.

A wince brings him back to reality. He retrieves his hands on instinct.

“It’s okay,” Morinaga reassures immediately, “please keep going. It’s tender, but it feels good.”

Souichi doesn’t dare open his mouth, only trusting himself to resume his dutiful application of healing salve. It looks like a wild animal got to Morinaga.

I’m the wild animal, Souichi thinks. He shivers. Looking at the battlefield, he hesitates. Nothing he has laid hands on yesterday has been left untreated. At least, nothing he can see, from the safety of the blind spot of Morinaga’s vision. He pulls back. The ointment feels colder on his fingertips all of sudden.

Like he can read his thoughts, Morinaga straightens up slowly and rolls his shoulders back. He hums, seemingly satisfied, and turns around, with a smile in the corners of his eyes. Souichi looks away, instinctively, and then immediately regrets it. As he feared, Morinaga’s front is also ran criss-cross with pinkish marks. They did not fade by morning, as he had hoped they might.

They are notably fainter than the ones he just tended to, no scabs interrupts their run, and their hue is more gentle. Still, Souichi wrenches his eyes away from the sight, feeling the burn of it in his cheeks. Without a word, Morinaga takes his hands. He squeezes them, once, and Souichi dares meet his eyes again, if only barely. Thankfully, the visual contact doesn’t last, as Morinaga leans in for a chaste kiss. Souichi lets him have one, then two, and it’s Morinaga who pulls away first.

“Don’t feel bad,” he says, like it’s the easiest thing in the world. He rubs soothing circles on the back of Souichi’s hand. There’s a hint of green tea to the minty scent.

“You have no idea how much I loved that.”

“I think I do,” Souichi replies before thinking, as if that’s the point of contention.

Morinaga snorts, surprised. “Nothing to feel bad about then,” he smiles, in that tone he reserves for when he’s trying to make Souichi feel normal about sex. As if that was just—

“It’s no different from usual, is it?” Morinaga cuts off the thought. “I mean, okay,” he leans forward, a glint in his eyes, “you rarely touch me so much, but, oh the things you made me feel when you—”

“I don’t have to hurt you, though!” Souichi blurts out.

Morinaga stares.

“To, to touch you,” Souichi does not stutter, “I don’t have to… it doesn’t have to be…”

Morinaga’s tone is full of wonder and hope when he whispers back: “yeah, you don’t have to.”

There is a second where Souichi knows he’s said something wrong before he catches on to what it is. He flushes. Morinaga squeezes his hands, and Souichi doesn’t have to hurt him to be fine with it.


Maybe it’s not as wrong as it is a little too honest and frightening, that he could be convinced to touch this man so easily.

“Wanna start now?”

“Uhm?” is all Souichi can say, before he is pulled forward and his hands are laid flat on Morinaga’s bare chest.

What the fuck?

“I think these marks also need some attention,” his idiot of a partner smirks.

This fucking guy.

“You can do that yourself!” Souichi snaps back, feeling the heat in his cheeks creep to his ears.

With that, he frees his wrists from Morinaga’s hold, and wipes the rest of the salve on his hands on his chest, making sure to not care for where the scratches are or if he’s rubbing them in the right direction.

Morinaga yelps and caves away: “Hey! We agreed no pain needed!”

“Thought you liked it,” Souichi snarks.

Morinaga’s boyish grin lets him know this is not the last of it he will hear.