Work Text:
Deserving
The kirin reared up, its forelegs to the sky, golden light rippling over its scales. Streams of red coursed vivid over its powerful flanks like blood, a flood of bitter memory tied up in its movement.
Daigo shook himself and let the door to the basement gym swing closed behind him.
At the sound, the man on the treadmill turned to look over his shoulder. “Sixth Chairman! Would you like me to vacate –”
Daigo held up a hand to stop him. “It’s fine, Mine. I thought I’d find you down here.” He unzipped the hooded sweatshirt he wore, and slid it off his arms to toss it over a hook in the corner.
Mine gave an uncertain smile. “I have a lot of fitness to regain, Dojima-san.”
With a sigh, Daigo stretched his arms over his head. It was pointless to argue. “I know.” He could see from here how much weight Mine had lost in the hospital. Still, after falling two storeys onto a fire escape, Mine could consider himself lucky to be in one piece at all.
He knew that wasn’t how Mine thought of it. The endgame had been sacrifice, the ultimate expression of regret for everything he’d done – or tried to do. And when he’d come to only to find himself alive and guilty, he would have torn away every drip and wire and finished things for good, if Daigo hadn’t been wheeled into his room and spent hours by his side with tears and relentless forgiveness.
Now they were woven together more tightly than ever. Daigo couldn’t stay away. Now Mine occupied so much of his waking thoughts that time together, with all of his attention on the man in person, felt like a relief.
The treadmill had rolled to a halt, and Mine had turned to look at him properly. “You seem yourself to have recovered well, sir.”
He felt his mouth quirk as he glanced down at himself. It was easy to forget he’d spent quite some time laid up too. “I gain weight all too easily.”
Before he even looked, he knew the expression on Mine’s face, the disapproval of his self-deprecation.
He chose to head it off. “So what session were you planning today?” For a moment, he feared that Mine might have finished his workout already, and would leave. But a glance betrayed that Mine had barely broken a sweat, and Daigo knew him well enough to know what that meant. He was just getting started.
“I was planning on some high-weight, low-rep work.” Mine stepped off the treadmill and ran a towel over his hands and forearms.
Daigo smiled. “I can spot you.”
“Thank you, Chairman.” Mine bent slightly at the waist, a small enough bow for plausible deniability. His expression was hard to read.
It was easy to tell, as they began and progressed through different lifts, that Mine was putting in more effort than ever. He deadlifted with his back perfectly straight, tendons standing out in his neck, strands of his hair springing free from their style, loosened by sweat. In the cool of the gym, Daigo could almost feel steam radiating from his skin.
Finally, Mine perched himself on the bench and rolled his back down to lie flat, the bar loaded and waiting on the rack above his chest. He shifted to plant his feet more firmly on the ground, and their eyes met.
Looking down at him like this, with sweat tracks down his face, willingly vulnerable, sent spears of memory through Daigo’s body – those times, back before everything had gone wrong, when the two of them had been together. Heat coiled low in his stomach.
He’d resisted, since it had all happened, afraid to damage this slow and careful rebuilding of things between them. He’d resisted, in spite of the moments when he saw the need in Mine’s eyes. Like now.
With all the will he could muster, Daigo moved to stand behind the rack. Carefully, he guided the bar over the lip that held it in place, until its full weight was taken through Mine’s hands and arms, locked out straight.
As soon as Mine began to lower the bar to his chest, Daigo could see what a struggle it was. Tremors rippled through his arms and chest; a quiver of tension arrowed through his jaw. Sure, low reps, this wasn’t meant to be easy, but when the bar tipped a fraction to the right, Daigo nearly stepped in.
With a flash of ferocity in his eyes, Mine managed to level the bar and finish the repetition. The determination he exuded as he gritted out the second rep was virtually tangible, so fierce Daigo couldn’t take his eyes off him.
So when his right arm buckled before straightening fully, Daigo was ready to grab the bar and rack it in an instant.
And the tangible determination became acrid defeat, a growl of frustration low in Mine’s throat. His eyes closed, he stayed where he was, pressed flat to the bench.
Daigo shot a look at the thick stack of plates on each end of the bar. “Have you been lifting this much before?” His voice sounded shrill to his own ears, worried.
“Not this much, no.” Mine didn’t open his eyes, but his tone had all the tightness of a man frustrated with himself. “I may have increased it excessively.”
Daigo folded his arms, as much to protect himself as anything else. “You shouldn’t have done that.”
For a moment, Mine was silent. “…You don’t see my incentive today?”
“Your bench press record isn’t going to impress me,” Daigo snapped, unable to help himself.
With a barely audible sigh, Mine slid out from under the rack and stood up. He faced Daigo openly. “What is?”
Struck, Daigo blinked back at him. They hadn’t exchanged such bluntness since the hospital. “…You impress me every day,” he said, and suddenly he could feel his fingers shaking. “You haven’t broken a single therapy appointment, you work harder than ever… You accepted going back to the bottom. And a part of me still doesn’t understand why.”
“To be better.” The words stumbled like Mine couldn’t get them out fast enough. “To make up for what I did, to everyone.” His face darkened, and Daigo saw a mix of want and devastation that stole his breath. “…To deserve your time.”
Daigo took an abrupt step forward so they were face to face. “You have always deserved my time.” He couldn’t stop himself reaching out to take Mine’s hand. “…Yoshitaka.”
Mine frowned, looking down at their hands like he couldn’t quite understand. Slowly, he looked up into Daigo’s face. “…Daigo.” The word was cautious, hesitant.
“Come on.” With a gentle smile, Daigo moved for the door, pausing only to pick up his hoodie and for Mine to pull a t-shirt over his head.
He led the way upstairs, to his office and the door at the side. Beyond lay his private study.
“It’s very quiet today,” Mine said tentatively as he sat down on one of the plush sofas.
“Sometimes I can’t resist getting rid of everyone.” Rummaging in the fridge, Daigo flashed a sheepish smile over his shoulder. “Is that bad of me?” He looked back into the fridge. Under the circumstances, he could do with a whiskey in his hand, but he also wanted a clear head – and for Mine not to pass out from dehydration. So he tossed a sports drink in Mine’s direction, and cracked open an iced coffee for himself.
“You’re in charge,” Mine said as he uncapped the sports drink, but there was a slight breathlessness to his words. “It’s just us in the building?”
Daigo nodded and joined him on the sofa. “See? I chose to spend time with you.”
A frown settled over Mine’s face. “Would it be acceptable… may I speak freely?”
“Of course.”
“We’ve spent time together since I left the hospital.” A hint of distaste crossed his features. “But… I feel it’s been sometimes at cross-purposes.”
Daigo released a slow breath, and distracted himself with his coffee. “…I’m not sure what you mean.”
“Daigo.” Mine put his drink on the coffee table. “Have you changed your mind? I appreciate that things can’t be as they were before, but…” He looked into Daigo’s eyes with a sudden searching intensity. “I see the way you still look at me.”
“Oh.” Daigo tore his eyes away.
“I understand if you don’t wish to get into a vulnerable situation – it would be quite fair for you never to trust me again.”
Abruptly, Daigo looked up into his eyes. “I trust you.” It was ridiculous, on the face of things, and he allowed himself a quiet laugh. “I do. I trust you.”
The expression on Mine’s face was one of confusion and relief. “Then…?”
Daigo’s self-control ebbed from his body. He reached for Mine’s hands and pulled him close, virtually into his lap. “I never changed my mind.”
Something ignited in Mine’s eyes, and in an instant his warm hands were framing Daigo’s face, one thumb tracing his lower lip before kissing him hard.
The fact that they had finally been honest like this made it sweeter, made Daigo’s skin tingle as Mine licked hotly into his mouth, strong fingers diving into Daigo’s hair. He slid his hands down Mine’s sides, relishing the way he shivered at the touch.
Within seconds he had his hands on Mine’s burning skin, stroking back and forth over the unseen lines of the kirin as Mine pressed him into the sofa. “I missed you,” Mine breathed against his lips, and Daigo’s hips bucked up helplessly as Mine mouthed over his jaw and down his neck.
Hot breath made his skin sensitive, and as Mine grazed his neck with his teeth, laved it with his tongue, and sucked heated marks into the flesh, the sensory barrage left him gasping. “Missed you… too.”
He ran his hands over every inch of skin he could reach, and when Mine made soft, helpless sounds against his neck, pride made him feel ten feet tall. Impatient, he pulled on the obstructing t-shirt, until Mine yanked it off with a chuckle deep in his throat and promptly divested him of his too. “There,” Mine said softly, and brushed reverent fingertips over his body.
This he had missed desperately, the way Mine looked at him and touched him as if he were a model of perfection, as if none of the things he noticed about himself, like the way his midriff spread above the waistband of his sweats, mattered at all.
And he’d missed his hands on Mine, the way everything he did seemed to be right. The way Mine arched and growled and grasped at his body with urgency, the way the clash of lips and tongues and even teeth felt so good.
He could smell fresh sweat on Mine’s skin, feel the strength in his limbs even now. He was a man, such a man, and he was Daigo’s.
The weight of Mine against him made him feel safe, even though his head swam with the illogicality of the thought. He did trust him. And he wanted him, so badly he could feel himself burning up from within.
He let his blunt nails scrape over Mine’s hips, and covered the answering moan with a kiss. “Want you,” he husked, their lips millimetres apart.
The soft groan Mine gave was more than sufficient agreement. Breathing short against his lips, Daigo pointed to a cabinet by the fridge.
When Mine stood up, he felt bereft, but lay and watched him go to the cabinet and return seconds later. Deep red sweatpants rode low on his hips, and the bulge at the front made Daigo shiver with excitement.
“Turn over,” Mine said, and kissed him so deep he almost forgot the request. But Mine’s hands at his hips urged him over, pulled down his sweats and underwear, and caressed his ass with such tenderness that he could have lost his mind.
His face buried in the arm of the sofa, he felt the touch of Mine’s fingers spreading his cheeks, and breathed deeply, willing his body to relax, anticipating the gentle intrusion of one of those long fingers.
Then he felt Mine’s tongue.
The sound that came out of his mouth was one that would have embarrassed him if he’d had the ability to concentrate on anything but Mine licking hot, wet, determined stripes over his ass.
“Good?” Mine asked softly, and the sensation of warm breath over his damp hole made him whimper.
“So fucking good,” he managed, not sure whether it came out as three words or one.
Mine just chuckled, and went on, licking slow and firm, giving teasing little flicks with the tip of his tongue that made Daigo moan into the sofa. Slowly, with the sensation almost more than he could handle, he could feel that wicked tongue beginning to spread him open.
His legs felt like jelly, his body so pleasure-drunk that when Mine slid two lubed fingers into him, he shifted his hips back against them eagerly.
“You ready for me, love?” Mine murmured.
“Yeah.” The word came out ragged. And he barely had time to breathe before he could feel Mine’s thick cock pressing against him, pressing into him. The stretch turned into a sense of exquisite fullness, and he groaned low and breathless.
He didn’t think he’d last, and when Mine began to move, he knew he wouldn’t. His hands grasping Daigo’s hips hard enough to bruise, Mine moved only a little at a time, each small thrust feeling so deep Daigo lost track of where one of them ended and the other began.
He gripped hard onto the sofa with both hands; he didn’t need to touch himself. This was all he needed, this feeling of being so full, so owned, every little movement a delicious slide of sensation that he could feel throughout his body.
Even then, he could feel the way Mine’s hips stuttered, and he revelled in the knowledge that he wasn’t the only one who’d been driven crazy waiting for this. With some effort, he raised his face from the sofa and looked over his shoulder.
Mine’s hair was falling over his forehead, his expression helpless, almost confused in the face of the feeling. It was stunning. His rhythm faltered again as he met Daigo’s eyes.
“Let go for me,” Daigo whispered roughly, and felt his own spine arch hard as he felt Mine come, hot and deep.
The sensation was enough to drive him over, his body stilling and tensing in place, his muscles seizing hard. Then the strength left him, and only Mine’s hands at his hips kept him from falling flat on his face.
He could hear breathing, fast and harsh, as Mine gently turned him over. It took him a moment to realise it belonged to both of them. Uncaring of the mess, he reached to pull Mine down on top of him.
“Thank you,” Mine murmured, once he’d shifted for them to lie comfortably together. “For listening to me.”
“Thank you for telling me what you needed.” Daigo nuzzled into his shoulder. “…You called me ‘love’.”
“You’ve always deserved my love.” Mine stroked a hand through his hair. “Daigo.”