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Yamaguchi is waiting for him when he gets home, just like he is most nights, wearing nothing but one of Kei’s t-shirts and a bright smile. He’s out of the kitchen before the front door is closed, leaning up into his space to brush a kiss to the corner of his mouth and breathing out a soft “Welcome home Tsukki.” before helping him get out of his clothes.
Kei would like Yamaguchi to be there every night because there’s a thrill in walking into his apartment to find the younger man there, a tug of something warm and content at not having to walk into a cold and dark home anymore and knowing his bed wouldn’t be empty. It makes some of the stress of the day lift from his shoulders and, as nimble fingers push his suit jacket backed and tug at his tie, he relaxes.
He knows that if anyone was aware of their arrangement there would be questions. He isn’t unattractive, and he’s got more money than he really knows what to do with, he’s not completely intolerable to be around, and if he wanted he could have just about anyone. He didn’t need to bring home a soaking wet, desperate college student he met at outside a coffee shop home. He didn’t need to keep him, dutifully paying tuition, books, expenses, and giving him free reign of his penthouse and car. He didn’t need to buy gifts and trinkets and drop money on the nightstand in the morning, or when he left on business trips. He could have found someone in his field, someone closer to his age, someone who, at least outwardly, fit him better.
Someone smoother, maybe, and not as easily frustrated and discouraged. Someone with more confidence, who would hold up better against his sharp tongue and blunt nature. Someone who didn’t spend nights on the couch doing homework and could at least go out and have a drink with him, perhaps.
“You want a drink?” Yamaguchi asks, tugging him into the living room and pushing him down onto the couch. There are, as always, books and papers and brightly colored pens spreads out on the coffee table and a collection of tea mugs (Yamaguchi had a habit of starting to drink a cup, getting distracted and forgetting about it, and making a new one only to repeat the process. Kei found it endearing.) forming on the couch side table.
Kei looked up at Yamaguchi then let his eyes drag down over his body as he shook his head. “No, that’s not what I want.”
He liked Yamaguchi. He was sweet, but had some bite and didn’t take any of his crap. He held his own, even when it was hard for him. He worked hard, a strange thing to say when Kei was taking care of him but nonetheless true, putting in the long hours needed for school and keeping his eyes forward instead of being content to play pampered pet. He was encouraging and genuine without any of the bitterness or jealously Kei was used to seeing in the people around him.
Kei had, without meaning to, warmed to him right away and now it was hard to imagine his life not having a spot for Yamaguchi in it.
“Oh?” He tilts his head to the side, the picture of innocent curiosity if not for the darkening of his eyes and flash of tongue over his lips, equal parts hungry and teasing. Kei traces the curve of his neck with his eyes and lets the stirring of warmth Yamaguchi always brings to the surface spread and take hold. “What do you want?”
A loaded question from anyone else in the world but not from Yamaguchi; Kei doesn’t have to carefully choose his words or read the other’s face to make sure he isn’t saying too much or misstepping.
“Ride me.”
Yamaguchi flushes a pretty shade of pink and sighs loudly, muttering something about just getting right to things then. He makes a show of being reluctant, speaks about the reading he needs to do and a lecture he has yet to listen to for his online class and how Kei just takes up so much of his time, all while ridding him of his best and dragging his pants and briefs down around his ankles. He tells him he could at least ask nicely as he nuzzles at his cock then laughs when Kei taps his head impatiently.
If he had known comfort came with being a tease he wouldn’t have…no, no, there is nothing he would change, even if it would get the hot, slippery cavern of Yamaguchi’s mouth around him a little faster. Kei lets his head drop back and his eyes shut as his fingers tangle in Yamaguchi’s hair, a moan stuck in his throat as he’s swallowed down to the root and one good. Yamaguchi’s tongue presses up against him, drags up and down, curves then flattens as the younger man bobs on his cock.
Kei would never say Yamaguchi is the best he’s ever had, because that’s a pretty bold statement and it’s hard to compare, but sometimes he thinks it and it’s not even about the sex. Sometimes he just looks over to see Yamaguchi bent over his phone, tongue poked out in concentration and brows knit together, and his heart stutters and his chest tightens and he things ‘Oh. This is the best I’ll ever have’.
But also he thinks it when his cock is surrounded by the convulsing muscles of Yamaguchi’s throat, held deep and kept there as a low hum vibrates through his watery eyed boyfriends tongue and into him. It’s less sappy and more lust fogged and stupid but fundamentally, he thinks, the same.
Yamaguchi pops off of him without warning, gasping for air as salivia drips from his mouth in thick strings that still connect him to Kei’s dick. It is simultaneously disgusting and heartstoppingly arousing. He doesn’t bother wiping his mouth, just grins cheekily while climbing up into his lap and sealing their mouths together in a sloppy kiss. Kei allows it, parts his lips obligingly for Yamaguchi to lick the salt and bitterness of his own taste against his tongue, and sighs when warm skin grinds down against against cock.
A hand wraps around him, angles him upwards-
“Wait. Do you need-”
“Nope.” Yamaguchi chirps against his mouth as the head of Kei’s cock rubs against his entrance; he can feel that it’s already loosened, yielding easily when he catches at the rim, and slick. “I’m ready for you.”
Kei’s toes curl against the very expensive hardwood floor. It does more for him that it probably should, the image of Yamaguchi in his old ratty work-out shirt, a holdover for high school volleyball club, long legs spread wide on the couch, working lube slick into himself so he’d be ready for him. A sullen part of himself that he doesn’t always like grumbles that for as much as he does for Yamaguchi he should always be bent over and open, but he brushes it aside.
It’s easy to block out everything except the warm body in his arms and the hot tongue lapping at his mouth when Yamaguchi is sinking down on him, taking him all in one smooth drop. They breathe together, in then out, and Yamaguchi starts moving, knees digging into the couch, thighs flexing under Kei’s hands, hips rolling, and a tiny selfsatisfied smile at the corner of his mouth.
“I missed you Tsukki.” Yamaguchi tells him, voice high and thing, just loud enough to be heard over the sound of skin against skin and the filthy wet noise of their bodies connecting against and again.
“Oh.” Kei blinks. His hands tighten on the soft skin of Yamaguchi’s thighs, slide around to grasp his ass, as his mind races. That’s new. “I…missed you too?”
It's true, he decides as the words leave his mouth, even if he's never thought to acknowledge it before. He missed Yamaguchi when they were apart.
Yamaguchi laughs and kisses him again, melts against him as he changes the pace, the slide, just grinds against him once he’s back in deep, slow and obscene and oh oh oh.
Yes, another part of himself that he likes considerably more, says as he rocks up to meet Yamaguchi, fucks into the soft, clinging heat of his body, this is worth everything. This is best I’ll ever have.