Archive of Our Own

Someone Itto doesn’t know is throwing a party. 

He learns about it when everyone on his Facebook friend list sends out mass invites. When he checks the event page the male attendees are largely wimpy junior and senior guys, which won’t fly with the ladies. Itto does everyone a favor and invites himself and all of his bros from the gym.

Where and by whom the party is hosted doesn’t matter. What matters is that there’s music, booze and girls. Small girls, big girls, medium girls—and boobs within the same size range. Itto doesn’t discriminate.

If he’s lucky Sara will be there too. He snooped on her friends’ profiles. They are coming, so logically she should too. If only she had a Facebook like everyone else it would spare Itto all the torturous wondering.

Itto and his loyal entourage roll up on the house like a true squad, hooting and hollering just so everyone knows they’re coming. There’s no mistaking the address. Multi-coloured lights blink from within, seeping out through the windows. The music reaches the street. A little group is huddled at the door, all perking up when they see who’s stepping out of the car. Itto doesn’t know most of them by name, but they’re all Gorou’s friends—a bunch of little babies too young to buy their own alcohol. 

That’s why they need Itto.

“Hey, hey, hey!” Itto yells, slamming the car door shut behind him. “What’s up my amigos and amigas?”

They all look like they bit down too hard on a candy. 

“You know ‘amigos’ goes for mixed-gender groups, right?” one of the boys snarks. 

“Why are you so late?” a girl complains. “We’re freezing out here.”

Another girl gets all up in Itto’s face with her manicured claws. “None of you replied to our texts! Fucking assholes.”

“Woah.” Itto puts his hands up, protecting his face from the weaponized fingernails. “I’m detecting some bad energy in here. What’s up? We’re here with the stuff, as promised!”

Itto gestures at his buddy, Genta, who jiggles the plastic bags with booze. The girl still looks ready to tear his face off. It would be a great loss to the world if she did, as his face is his third-best feature after his abs and his dick. Luckily Gorou pushes his way to the front of the group before Itto can be irreparably damaged. 

Gorou snatches the bags from Genta's hands. “Thank you, guys! We weren’t let in without drinks,” he explains. To his friends he says, “They couldn't have known. Let’s just drop it, okay? They’re here now and we can go inside.”

None of them look particularly happy, but obediently shuffle to the door where they are finally allowed in.

“Damn, Lassie!” Itto claps Gorou over the shoulder. The little guy almost falls over. “Look at you herding all the sheepies. A girl-whisperer! Share some of your secrets with the rest of us, ey?”

“I– I’m not a girl-whisperer!” Gorou squawks. “You make it sound like they’re a hivemind. That’s just sexist!”

“Ah, c’mon dude! I’m just jokin’ around.”

As fun as it is to mess with Gorou, standing around outside the party is starting to get kinda lame. Where the action’s at is where Itto will be, and right now all the girls and all the booze is inside. He sweeps past Gorou. The door guy totally disses Itto’s offer to fist bump, which is kinda rude. If Itto were to guess, he’s probably upset that his girlfriend made him play at being a bouncer while everyone else is partying it up.

In the house it’s hot and heavy, the music pumping loudly between the walls and inside Itto’s head. Just how he likes it. He goes directly for the drink table in the corner. A screwdriver later and he’s in full beast-mode, ready to conquer the world with his sick moves and slick vibes. He’s got his homies around him and the night is young—the only thing missing is that damn Sara.

He can’t see her anywhere, and everyone he asks pretends they can’t hear him. They won’t give him an answer on whether she’s even here. Seriously, what’s their deal? Someone’s clearly trying to sabotage him, which is not cool. Sara is pretty hotly contested, so no surprise there, but there’s no pride in winning a lady’s heart by cheating. Whoever it is must be really intimidated by Itto. Why else would they stoop to such dirty tactics? Jokes on them. Their obvious fear just boosts his confidence. 

He’s got this.

Thirty minutes into his search, Itto's confidence begins to wane. No luck asking around, and he can only stand by the stereo watching everyone entering and exiting the room for so long before he starts to look like a creepy wallflower. He crinkles his empty cup and throws it on the floor. This party is lame, anyhow. Half the people haven’t even graduated high school yet, and barely reach Itto’s shoulders in height. He can see over their heads like a goddamn Godzilla towering over Tokyo.

Loud cheers erupt from the opposite end of the room. There’s a conglomeration forming on the dance floor, bodies loosely circling the people in the middle. Gorou’s bleached fringe makes him easy to spot as he hops and twists around to the music. The crowd parts for Itto as he snowploughs his way over, abandoning his mission of finding Sara for the moment. He just needs to figure out what all the hubbub is about, and why no one invited him.

He finds out the first part. Though he knows what his eyes are seeing, it takes a moment for his brain to attach meaning to it. 

Gorou, and a girl Itto doesn’t recognize, are dancing. Gorou’s shirt is rucked halfway up his chest, showing off his abdomen down to his hip bones. He’s belly dancing. 

Jesus Christ. How drunk is he?

The weirdest feeling ever comes over Itto when Gorou rolls the muscles of his stomach in sinuous waves. For a dude, he’s unusually sexy. Macho men are of no interest to Itto—how can he desire such a man when he is already the peak specimen of the kind? But little guys who are as smooth and sensual as women?

Well.

The girl is hot too, once Itto actually looks at her. About as naked as Gorou, but with more junk in the trunk to show off. The two of them seem to be having some kinda dance off as the audience claps and whistles.

Itto pushes his way to the front. “Shakira, Shakira!” 

He catches Gorou’s attention. Gorou stiffens like a frightened deer mid hip-thrust. 

“I never really knew that you could dance like this,” Itto sing-songs.

Gorou’s face goes red. A girl in the crowd yells out, “Boo!” when he doesn’t immediately start dancing again.

“Hey, don’t mind me,” Itto says. “Keep going.” 

“Then don’t laugh at me,” Gorou whines. It’s cute as hell. 

The girls he’s dancing with giggles, tugging at Gorou’s shoulders without breaking the sensual flow of her movement. “C’mon Puppy, the song's not over yet.”

Gorou glares at her, then at Itto, but whatever power this woman holds over him outweighs his embarrassment. Gorou turns back to her, shimmying his hips from side to side in liquidy waves. It almost looks fake. A human body shouldn’t be able to move that snakelike. Itto can’t be blamed for looking, can he? 

He watches them dance for a while, quietly amazed. He’s never been much of a dancer. He lifts weights, boxes, tries to out-squat his buddies, stuff like that. Not that dancing isn’t cool. Being able to roll his abs like that must have taken Gorou a lot of training. If he thinks about it, which he’s definitely doing, it’s kinda badass. Like, it’s hard work, and Itto can appreciate that.

Then he catches sight of Sara in the periphery of the room. Fucking finally.

He swaggers up on her, puffing his chest like a rooster. Irresistible, surely. She doesn’t turn as he comes to stand beside her, continuing to converse with her friend.

He sees her cast a sideways glance at him. Her gaze is sharp and watchful as a carrion bird's yet she’s blind to the fact that he’d carry her on his back just to keep her shoes clean. 

But that will change tonight.

Her friend is glaring at Itto, but Sara keeps on talking as though she never saw him. He clears his throat, then clears it again a second time, much louder, trying to make himself heard over the music. He coughs.

“What?” Sara snaps, whipping around. “Do you want something?”

Itto lays his hands over his chest, indicating the sincerity of his heart and soul. “Only for you to dance with me,” he says, smoothly as silk.

“No.”

His arms drop. “Aw, c’mon! Why not? Please?”

“Oh my God,” Sara’s friend sighs, crossing her arms. “Can’t you see that she’s not interested in you, you big dumb bimbo?”

“Excuse me, I wasn’t talking to you!”

“She’s right. Please leave me alone, Itto.”

The two girls walk off, leaving Itto with the broken pieces of his heart strewn about the dirty floor. Some onlookers giggle at his misfortune. 

There’s a big, painful lump in his throat, almost as if he’s about to cry— No. He can’t. He’s a man, Goddamnit!

With his dignity barely intact, he shuffles over to the drinks table, pouring himself a cup of heavy alcohol. Women are so… cruel. At least that woman is. Where did he go wrong? They’ve barely talked, and she’s already rejecting him. And in such a humiliating way too! He must’ve done something without noticing, but what? When?

There’s only one person he can ask.

He finds Gorou not far from where he left him, though now his shirt is pulled down properly over his stomach. He’s sipping on a drink and talking to his friends.

Itto taps him on the shoulder. “Ey, Puppy, can I borrow you for a minute?”

Gorou gives him a suspicious look. But he must see something in Itto’s face, for he quickly throws back the last dregs of his drink, excuses himself and sets the empty cup on a nearby table.

Outside it’s gotten chillier. Itto’s blood runs hot in his large body, but little Gorou shivers, untying his soccer jacket from around his hips and shrugging it on. The number 10, his squad number, is printed in large letters across the back.

“Puppy?” Gorou asks, raising an eyebrow.

Itto shrugs. “That’s what that girl called you, right?”

“Miko. And yes, though I don’t know why!”

“Maybe because you are small and cute, like a puppy.”

Gorou looks bashfully to the side, teasing the hem of his jacket nervously between his fingers. “What did you want to talk about? You look kinda upset.”

Now it’s Itto’s turn to avert his gaze. 

“Ah, yes… I wanted to ask you about, uhm—” He rakes his brain for a moment for the right words, then gives up. If there’s anyone who won’t judge him for his honesty, it’s Gorou. “You know Kujou Sara, right?”

“Yeah. Not very well though. Why?”

“I just wanted to dance with her, but… She crushed me, man. I didn’t even get a chance.”

“Oh. I’m not good with this kinda stuff, Itto.” Gorou scratches his head, as though he can pick out the truth from his messy hair. “Uh… Have you made any moves on her before?”

“Yes. But she didn’t realize.”

“What makes you think that? How did she react?”

“That’s the thing! She didn’t react! She just looked at me like I was strange, or something. Then she left, barely saying goodbye.

Gorou hums, sucking on his teeth and looking thoughtfully towards the sky. Itto’s starting to get nervous by the time he speaks up.

“Do you think that maybe she did notice, and just wasn’t interested?”

“But…”

“She thought she’d given you enough of a hint, but you kept flirting, so she got fed up. Maybe that’s why she seemed so harsh to you now. From her point of view, you’re being obtuse, or worse, wilfully ignorant.”

“But— But I didn’t know.”

“She doesn’t know that, though.”

Itto ponders that. “Are you sure she’s not just playing hard to get?”

“She’s not that kinda girl. I’m sorry, Itto.”

As reality sinks in, Itto deflates. Gorou’s hand hovers in the air for a moment, hesitant, before he places it over Itto’s arm. It’s getting colder. Only the warm alcohol sloshing around in Itto’s stomach keeps the chill at bay. Gorou rubs soothing circles over his bicep as Itto’s skin prickles.

“I have to apologize to her, right?” Itto asks.

“That would be a good idea. Maybe not today, though. Give her some space.”

He doesn’t want to believe what Gorou is saying, but Gorou has proven to have a knack for sorting out people’s personal and interpersonal dilemmas. So far, Itto has never known his intuition to be wrong. 

Which means that Itto has been a huge douche. Guilt isn’t a familiar feeling to him, and he’s unprepared for how much it fucking sucks.

“Are you okay?” Gorou prods. His little hand is still resting delicately on Itto’s arm. “Do you want to get out of here?” 

He doesn’t even need to consider it. “Yeah.”

Back inside everything is the same as when they left: bad music, bad booze, bad decisions. Everyone is having a great time, even Sara, who’s laughing at something her friend says. Itto’s mood drops even more. He tails behind Gorou, who leads him by the arm through the house, only stopping to shout something in the ear of one of his buddies. Before they leave Gorou checks his pockets. Itto does the same. His phone, his wallet and his keys are still on his person. The only thing he’s lost at this party is his sense of pride. 

To make up for it, he snatches a bottle from the drinks table and hides it under his jacket. If Gorou sees it, he doesn’t comment. It’s one of the bottles Itto bought himself, and since he’s leaving early, he should be entitled to a partial refund.

“Do you live close by?” Gorou asks when they’re outside again. 

“Like ten minutes by bus. You?”

“Way more than that. Let’s go to your place— Unless you have something else in mind?”

Itto shakes his head. At the bus stop they have to wait ten minutes before the bus even arrives, and by the time Itto is finally able to pay for both of their tickets he’s run out of things to babble about. It dawns on him that he doesn’t know Gorou very well, aside from what everyone knows about him: he plays soccer, he’s got a lot of friends, and he gives good advice. He’s certainly never hung out with him one on one.

“So, how come you can belly dance?” he asks.

Gorou shrinks in on himself. In a low voice, as to not let any other passengers overhear, he says, “It’s, uh… Miko kind of convinced me. Or coerced me, depending on how you see it— Hey, what’s that look for? It’s a good workout!”

Checking himself, Itto realizes he’s grinning in a way that probably comes off as mocking. “No, no! Don’t take it the wrong way.” He backs off, putting his foot up on the plastic back of the seat in front of him, trying to look casual. “I think it’s really cool! So, like, do you practice a lot? Take classes?”

Gorou is pink as a radish. “She taught me. I never took any classes, unless free Youtube videos count.”

A vivid image comes to mind: Gorou, alone in his room and door locked to keep his curious brothers and sisters out, contemplating his own reflection in the mirror as he rocks his hips and rolls his abdomen to drumming music.

Itto has to remove his jacket. Isn’t public transport meant to be more environmental? Cranking the heat like this has to be bad for the ozone layer or whatever.

“Ah,” is the only thing Itto can think to say. He clears his throat, glancing outside the window at the buildings passing by.

Gorou must mistake his silence for sadness because he leans over to look Itto in the eye and asks, “How are you feeling?”

As distracting as the thought of Gorou dancing around sexily is, the reminder of his own heartbreak is a real mood killer. He sighs, leaning his chin on his palm and pouts, playing it up for pity-points.

“Ugghhhh,” he drawls, looking forlornly out the window. A dog is taking a shit on the sidewalk unbeknownst to its swank owner, who’s too busy chatting on the phone to notice. The scene is an apt representation of Itto’s emotions. 

How lovely. 

He turns back to Gorou instead.

“I just don’t understand why she never gave me a chance to prove myself, you know?” Itto says in a low voice. “Not that I feel entitled to anything by girls, I swear! Just, you know…” he trails off, waving his hands around in the air to make up for the fact that he can’t put his thoughts into words. Honestly, he’s more upset by the publicity of it than the rejection itself. Soon everyone will know and laugh at him. It’s humiliating.

There’s only a handful of other people in the bus, but Gorou murmurs his reply close to Itto’s ears, just in case the old granny in the back has particularly sharp hearing.

“It sucks, but you can’t force that spark. If she’s not interested there’s nothing you can do.” He sucks on his teeth again—a habit of his thinking? Itto is learning so much about Gorou today. “By the way, I had no idea the two of you were hanging out?”

“Ehehe… Hanging out is maybe stretching it a bit.”

“Itto!” Gorou gasps. “Are you saying you don’t even know her?”

“Well! How am I meant to know someone if they won’t talk to me, smartass?”

“Maybe if you didn’t go straight into asking her out, she would’ve.”

“Bu— Wh— What do you know? Didn’t you say you were bad at this subject, or something?”

“It’s just common sense.”

“Bah!” 

Itto sulks, turning his back to Gorou to look sullenly out of the window again. Honestly, who does Gorou think he is? As if he, toddler sized and dainty, has any more experience than Itto with girls. Girls don’t like short guys. At fourteen Itto was already taller than Gorou is at eighteen.

And yet, as his knee-jerk outrage putters out, Itto can’t deny that Gorou is making sense.

Itto caves. “Alright, alright,” he sighs, slumping in defeat. Gorou, bless him, seems to have been patiently waiting for him to come back to his senses. “Maybe you’re right.”

Gorou bumps his little arm against Itto’s. “Don’t mope,” Gorou says, smiling. “Now that that’s cleared up you can redirect your energy towards finding someone more suitable for you.”

“Aye-aye, Captain! But who?”

“I’m sure there’s someone right in front of you, and you don’t even know it.”

“Apparently I don’t take hints very well, so that person better speak up or I’ll never know.”

They’re almost at his stop. The main landmark of this area is a worn-down Walmart with a collapsed wall from where a truck driver backed into it. No one ever bothered to replace the chipboard with a real plaster wall, and the patch job has been graffitied to death. As poorly as it reflects on the neighbourhood, it’s quite iconic.

Gorou burrows into his jacket like an owl when they’re back out on the street. Their breath fogs in the cold. It’s a short walk to the concrete block that Itto calls home, but the cold still has time to seep into him. Gorou lets out a relieved sigh when they’re finally inside the lobby, though it’s poorly heated.

Itto’s apartment is on the fourth floor and there are no elevators, which kinda sucks sometimes but at least it's given him some sick-ass glutes. He makes sure Gorou gets an eyeful as Itto takes the lead up the stairs.

“Mi casa su casa,” he says as he throws open his door. 

He didn’t plan on bringing Sara back home, despite being sure he’d woo her out of her socks, so he didn’t bother to tidy up. He regrets it now. There’s a lot of unwashed dishes in the sink and he can’t remember the last time he properly cleaned his bathroom. Hopefully Gorou, as a fellow dude, doesn’t mind. 

Gorou politely toes off his shoes by the door.

“It’s… nice,” he says, after a beat. “Your place. Must be nice to live on your own.”

“Oh? Still live with momma?” 

“Yeah… For now.” Gorou is flustered. “I’m her youngest, and she doesn’t want to let go. Looking to move out when I’m done with school though.”

“Hey, no judgement. I’d probably still be livin’ with the folks if they didn’t practically kick me out.” Gorou frowns. Itto realizes how that probably sounded. “No bad blood or whatever, don’t worry! They were just like, making sure I got my shit together and stuff. Anyway, wanna see what we can find to eat?”

“Sure,” Gorou says. 

He carries himself with that awkwardness that’s so common the first time you enter someone’s house. Itto doesn’t take offence. He’ll warm up. Hopefully with Itto’s help, if Itto is reading the room properly this time.

There’s not much in terms of snacks in his pantry. The best he can do without having to cook is a bowl of Kaki no tane and beer, which they share on Itto’s sofa. He dusts a few crumbs off the seat before Gorou sits, hoping he won’t mind the stains. What are those from, anyhow? He can’t remember.

“Do you game? I’ve got a PlayStation.”

“Ah, not really. You can show me, though?”

“Nah. Maybe some other time, Pup. Put on some music you like instead,” Itto says. 

Gorou boxes him on the arm, likely for being called ‘Pup’. His fists are so small, but his punch is strong and God, Itto wants to eat him up.

Gorou plugs his phone into Itto’s speakers. The song that comes on has a lot of drums, which is perfect.

“Do the thing again,” Itto says, wiggling his fingers in the air to show what he means.

Gorou laughs. “I’m no longer drunk enough for that,” he says, shaking his head.

Itto grins. “Then I’ve got the solution! Stay exactly where you are.”

From his jacket he grabs the little bottle of vodka he pilfered from the party. “Is Red Bull okay?” he calls from the kitchen while surveying his options, which are Red bull and nothing else.

“That’s fine,” Gorou calls back. 

Itto brings them both a tall glass each, cooled with ice cubes. Gorou downs most of the drink then wipes his mouth with the back of his palm. 

There’s no way he’s already feeling buzzed from that, but he sets the glass down on the coffee table and says, “I guess I have no choice now. You gotta dance too, though! It’s only fair.”

“Not belly dance I hope? I don’t know how to.”

“The basics are simple! I can teach you.” 

“I don’t know about that, man. Not my style.”

“Unless you try, you won’t know.”

Gorou pulls his jacket over his head and throws it on the couch. He scoots his pants down until the waistband rests low on his hip bones and hikes his shirt up to show his lean midriff. In the brightness of Itto’s living room Gorou’s muscles look more defined than under the dimmed party lights. He takes a few steps to the music, transitioning fluidly from non-dancing to dancing within a few drumbeats.

Itto doesn’t have the right vocabulary to describe what Gorou is doing, but it’s sexy. His chest stays still in space while his hips seem to move independently from the rest of his body, sort of like how a chicken stabilizes its head when held in the air.

Itto is caught staring at Gorou’s waist when he looks up to see Gorou already watching him. Despite the flush reddening his cheeks, Gorou holds his gaze until Itto is the one to look away. Gorou snickers. He turns to the side, raising his arms as he tucks and untucks his stomach in a wavelike motion.

“Don’t just stand there and watch me. C’mon!”

“But I like this view,” Itto whines. Still, in the name of fairness, he puts his own drink down to stand by Gorou. 

“I can’t do whatever you are doing, but I can do this,” he says, pulling his shirt over his head and tossing it to the side. 

Gorou looks on with peaked interest. Taking a deep breath, Itto takes a wide stance, then bounces his pecs one at a time in tune with the music. 

“Pretty cool, ey?”

Gorou loses his mind laughing.

“Fuck, I’m sorry,” he says, hiding his face behind his hands. “I shouldn't laugh. I’m such a hypocrite! It’s cool, yes. I can’t do that.”

It’s not the response Itto wanted but seeing Gorou laugh makes him feel happy too. He tries to match his pectoral bobbing to the drums, making Gorou double over with laughter again.

Still hiccupping with glee, Gorou does a few slow twirls, lurching his hips sharply at each turn. It’s playful, flirty. Itto forgets to dance. Gorou’s eyes gleam. With his butt shaking gently he backs up against Itto, who really has no choice but to grab him by the waist. He’s so small; Itto’s fingers dig into the flesh of his stomach, almost encompassing all of him. Below the soft skin lay hard muscle.

“Man… Am I jumping the gun again?” Itto asks into the side of Gorou’s head. His hair smells clean, like unscented shampoo.

“I hope not. I’m trying to be blunt,” Gorou says, leaning his head back against Itto’s chest. He doesn’t stop grinding his hips, and Itto’s cock drags against the arch of his back. “What do you think is happening?”

“That you want me to fuck you?”

No words, but Gorou nods. Maybe he’s shy. Odd that he’s brave enough to grind against another man, but too modest to speak of it. It must be that he’s just so taken by Itto’s sex appeal that his body speaks for him, whether he wants it to or not.

“C'mon then, Baby.“ With a nudge, Itto has Gorou turn around. His arms lope across Itto’s neck.

“God, why are you so tall? It’s so unfair.”

To kiss Gorou has to stand on his tiptoes. He has a small mouth and pouty lips, like a putto. When Itto runs his tongue over his hard palate, Gorou shudders meekly, pressing himself further into Itto with a soft whine.

Gorou breaks the kiss. “Up?” he mumbles.

“Wha—?”

Gorou tugs at Itto’s shoulders, demandingly. 

It clicks. “Ohh, up! Yes.”

A firm grip over Gorou’s ass, and Gorou hops into his arms. His legs wrap around Itto’s waist. He doesn’t weigh much at all, not to Itto. It’s so fascinating how small he is. Incomprehensible. It makes Itto feel close to feral, a cork screwed on too tight and ready to pop. 

The way Gorou kisses him has a hint of ferality to it too. There’s teeth and tongue, and no shame whatsoever for the wet noises their spit makes. It’s like Gorou is trying to suck Itto’s soul out of his mouth.

Itto only needs one arm to hold Gorou up. It frees him to card his fingers through Gorou’s hair. It’s thick and fluffy, a little coarse from too much dye and bleach.

Gorou moans. “Feels good. Keep— Ah. Keep playing with my hair?”

“Yeah?”

“Please.”

“No need to beg, Baby,” Itto hushes, though he kind of likes it. “I’ll be sweet to ya’.”

“Don’t be corny.”

“Ey!”

Gorou grins and nips at Itto’s nose. He keeps flipping between shy and confident, which is sorta tripping Itto up, but otherwise it feels very natural to be with him. Nothing worse than someone who doesn’t know how to have some fun in bed. Gorou, to Itto’s surprise, is a lot of fun.

Like how he grabs Itto by the air and janks, not too hard but with a lot of feeling, and says, “You were gonna play with my hair.” 

Fun. And demanding, it seems. 

Itto obeys. By the sounds Gorou makes it’s like he’s about to come from just that. The way he leans into it reminds Itto of his grandma’s cat who always fell over when getting scratched on the chin. Itto sucks on Gorou’s exposed neck, hoping he doesn’t mind a few bruises. Gorou holds him there, hands tightly interwoven with Itto’s hair, so hard it almost hurts.

The wall takes some of Gorou’s insignificant weight when Itto pushes him into it. He can feel Gorou’s semi against his abdomen, trapped under his pants. There’s a line on his stomach from the waistband after Itto tugs the pants down. He traces the groove with his fingers, then moves downward, feeling the heat of Gorou’s cock through his underwear. Gorou hisses.

“This is okay, right?” Itto asks, belatedly.

“Yeah, yeah, of course,” Gorou rasps, glancing down between them at what Itto’s hand is doing. “Fuck,” he swears.

“Yeah, fuck,” Itto agrees. “Hey, uhh… Where do you wanna take this? Do you wanna suck me off or something?”

Suddenly Gorou is shy again. “Oh. Uh… yeah! Sure! Just, uh, let me down?”

“Awwyea,” Itto cheers. “I’ll make it up to ya, swear!”

He backs off from the wall to give room for Gorou to stand on his own legs again. He seems unsteady. Hard to tell when he immediately falls to his knees in front of Itto, unzipping his jeans and digging out his cock.

“Oh Jesus,” he says to himself. “You’re huge.”

Itto can’t help to preen at that. Not everyone says it with such reverence.

Gorou looks from Itto’s cock to his face and then back again. “I’m sorry if it's not that good,” he says.

“Don't worry. It will be,” Itto says, with confidence.

It's not. Gorou is too small to take even a third of him into his mouth. He tries to fit more, stutters, and chokes, tries again from a different angle, chokes again. Sucks on the head and uses his hands on the rest. His hands are nothing compared to Itto’s, which are large and more suited to handle his own size.

Gorou pulls off with an apologetic look. He moves his aching jaw around until it pops.

“You’re being so good, Baby,” Itto purrs. Thinks. “Do you like that? Or do you want me to be nasty?”

“I’d rather you be sweet,” Gorou says. “Tell me if I can do better, though.”

To not hurt his pride too much, Itto says, “Try using more pressure with your hands?”

Gorou makes a face like he’s doing a difficult math test, and nods. Gorou throws himself into sucking Itto’s cock, this time with more force. It does feel good, but the visual experience is better. Gorou has such a lovely face. The juxtaposition between his doe-eyes and his mouth salivating around Itto’s massive cock is obscene in the most perfect way.

When his jaws hurt too much to continue, Gorou stands. He keeps pumping Itto as he leans up into a kiss.

“I’ve never taken anyone so big,” he says, ever so flatteringly. “Let’s go slow, okay? I’m not sure how well it will go.”

“That means you wanna… Yeah, yeah, of course! Are you hard yet?”

“Mostly. Can you help me?”

Together they chuck the rest of Gorou’s clothes to the floor. His cock fits almost perfectly in Itto’s palm, even after Itto jerks it into full hardness. Itto manoeuvres Gorou to lean over the armrest of the couch. A thick drop of pre-come smears on the cushion, which jogs Itto’s memory. The mystery of the stains has been solved.

“Hang on, I gotta get some stuff from my bedroom.”

It’s kinda weird leaving Gorou bent over and buck naked in his living room. Itto gives Gorou’s ass a small smack of reassurance before he goes, then thinks maybe he should’ve asked first. Gorou doesn’t say anything, just mewls a little. 

In his bedroom Itto has to fumble around a minute until he finds the lube, hidden under last week’s unwashed laundry. A strip of condoms and a blanket to protect the couch from further jizz stains and he’s back. 

Gorou’s kneeling on the couch, jerking himself slowly in anticipation. 

“I got a blankie. Here, move over a little.” Itto spreads the blanket over the couch. It’s too small to cover all of it so he better be strategic about which body parts go where.

Gorou crawls on top of the blanket. “It’s easier for me to relax if you suck me off while you finger me,” he says, like he's handing over the user manual to his body.

Itto doesn’t have much experience sucking cock, but that’s not something he will say out loud. He does as told, sitting himself on the floor in front of the couch. Gorou leans back and spreads his legs to either side of Itto’s shoulders. 

Hotdamn. What a feast.

Itto takes Gorou into his mouth and sucks softly while he uncaps the lube. The mouthfeel is nice: fulfilling but not too big. Gorou whines above him. His stomach undulates the same way as when he danced, becoming hollow as he exhales, ballooning on the inhale. When he twists around his hip bones jut out sharply. 

Itto pushes one leg back to get better access to Gorou’s hole. No protests are heard when he pushes in a finger, then another. It’s strange to imagine Gorou doing this often enough that his body accepts it so easily, but if he were a virgin there’s just no way Itto would get to fuck him at all, so the unwarranted jealousy Itto feels is fleeting. After Itto Gorou will never be the same anyhow—how many men are so large? So virile? None. Itto’s certain of it. 

Itto leaves Gorou’s cock forgotten on his stomach for a little bit so Itto can watch his fingers go in and out of his ass. There’s no reprehension. Gorou muffles his broken moans with the meat of his arm as Itto strums his prostate. He’s such a sensitive little guy, wailing from just a few fingers. Itto takes him into his mouth again and does his best to stretch him well, adding a little twist to the whole shebang by trying to fit his thumb in there too. It goes in, easy, while Gorou shudders around him. 

A lick to the head of Gorou’s cock, then he pulls off. “How you doin’ Baby?”

“Ah— Good. I think. Put it in, please? Slowly.”

“Of course.” Barely able to wait, Itto tears into a condom wrapper with his teeth. He fumbles it over his cock one-handedly. “Do you wanna look?”

“No. If I do, I’ll get scared and tense up.”

Having your dick called scary is a compliment, right?

“Then up we go!”

With a grunt, Itto grabs Gorou by the middle and flips him around. There’s a yelp of surprise, but then Gorou settles nicely with his arms folded on the backrest, butt out and ready. Itto spreads him open with his thumbs. He’s got a really nice ass for a dude, neither too flat nor too round.

Another squeeze of lube and Itto lines himself up. 

“Brace yourself, Puppy. Or don’t do that, I guess? Hm.”

As he pushes in he tries to judge how Gorou is taking it, but it’s hard without seeing his face. The muscles of his back tense and relax in waves, and he moans cryptically, the noise somewhere between pleasure and pain. If it’s really no good, he’d say so, right? Still, Itto takes it slow, as slow as he can, fucking Gorou with shallow little thrusts that don’t even take him halfway inside. 

It’s hot, tight—same as any other ass, which is to say it’s freaking amazing. He wants to go harder, feel the heat envelop him fully.

Gorou doesn’t stop him, only whines into the couch cushions as Itto pushes deeper with each thrust.

He leans down to place a kiss to Gorou’s sweaty back. “You okay?” Itto asks.

“Yeah. Hah… Feel so full. But I like it, y’know? Go a bit harder now.”

“Aye-aye!”

Finally, Itto gets to fuck Gorou for real. He grabs Gorou by the hips, holding him steady as he brings hell upon his poor ass. The movements draw passion from his most primal side: the lion within him, the alpha wolf, the stallion. He’s on top of the world. Virile. Masculine. Feral. And if anyone barged in, well, Itto would rip them apart with his bare hands without even having to stop rocking his dick, that’s how on top of the world he feels. An unstoppable force.

And Gorou just takes it all. A bunch of nonsense flashes past Itto’s brain: slut, fucktoy, whore. But no, that’s not right… Soldier! Yes, soldier. Gorou is a strong and brave soldier. He pants like he’s running a marathon right after performing a triathlon. His moaning sounds more like a porn star’s though, and, heh, Itto is just that good ey? Gorou moans like he needs it, like Itto’s dick is the lost glass slipper his ass has been looking for.

Then Itto comes.

He’s so enthralled by his cock going in and out of Gorou’s ass that his climax takes him totally by surprise. Gorou seems confused too when Itto groans and then suddenly slows. The moaning dies down, he looks over his shoulder and makes the most puzzled face.

“Why’d you stop? It was just getting good.”

“Ehehe… well… uh.” So embarrassing. Itto wants to die. Coming prematurely, like a teenager? God, what’s wrong with him?

“Oh.” Gorou’s eyes widen in realization. “You came?”

“Uhm. Maybe. Yeah. Sorry…”

Itto’s rapidly softening cock slips out. Gorou looks as embarrassed as Itto does, which is somewhat comforting at least.

“It’s alright!” 

Gorou turns so he can sit on the couch. The condom caught all of the spunk, but Itto imagines him with his jizz running down his thighs. It would be arousing if Itto didn’t literally just unload.

Itto is pulled into Gorou’s arms. “It was good while it lasted,” Gorou says. It’s not as reassuring as he probably intended for it to be. As he notices Itto’s dejected face he quickly adds, “And I’m flattered! Swear!”

Gorou’s collar bone catches Itto’s deep sigh. “How do you want me to finish you?” he asks.

He can hear Gorou sucking on his teeth before he answers. “Just jerk me off while we kiss. Or is that too lame? Augh.”

Lame? It’s adorable! “Sure! Can I finger you? Please?”

“If you want to,” Gorou says, almost shyly. 

Itto is already in better spirits. Everyone makes a little blunder sometimes! Being a man is all about owing up to your shortcomings and working on fixing them. He hopes he gets many more chances to prove himself to Gorou.

They kiss laid out on the couch, Gorou’s legs wrapped around Itto’s middle. It’s very cozy. The frenzied fog from earlier has left Itto’s head, replaced by a calm sense of intimacy that is just as pleasurable in its own way. There’s a sweetness to Gorou’s kisses that makes Itto feel warm. His little breaths come out in hiccups, muffled by lips and tongue. When he’s close to coming his eyebrows scrunch up and his legs cramp around Itto so hard that it becomes difficult to reach inside him properly.

“Baby, relax.”

It helps. Gorou eases off, and Itto brings him to orgasm. Come trickles down his cock, over his belly, onto Itto’s hand. Through it, Itto keeps kissing him, though Gorou is mostly allowing Itto to lick into his mouth as his lips hang open on a silent gasp. When the last drop of come is squeezed out, Itto pulls his fingers out and sits back to admire the body below him. He’s helpless against the urge to drag his fingers through the mess on Gorou’s heaving stomach. Gorou giggles, abdomen fluttering when it tickles.

He lets out a deep, pleased sigh. “That was nice,” he says.

Itto can only nod. “Do you wanna shower?”

“Please. I don’t really wanna get up. But I hate the feeling of lube between my ass.”

“Bathroom’s over there. Towels in that drawer,” Itto points. “Are you staying the night? Should I get you some clothes?”

“I should go home, but… You don’t mind?”

“Up to you, Pup.”

“Get me something soft to sleep in.”

Itto enjoys the view of his butt as he plods over to the bathroom. Only when the door is locked does Itto get up to find Gorou some clothing. Everything he owns will be way too big, which is kinda sexy. He picks out a t-shirt and a pair of sweatpants with a drawstring that can be pulled tight. No underwear—it would never fit.

Some of his beetles are awake, searching above their substrate for food. He cuts up a banana for them. His favorite beetle—Speedy Jerry, a massive Rhino beetle with long, impressive horns—gets hand fed. He holds the beetle to his face, observing its shiny exoskeleton as it gorges on fruit.

“Papa got laid tonight,” he whispers to Jerry. “You’re not the only stud around here, you know.”

The only reply is a threatening hiss as Itto brings Jerry too close to his face.

“Don’t sass me, Mister,” Itto scolds.

“Uhm? Who are you talking to?”

Gorou appears in the doorway, clad only in a towel. Itto nearly throws Jerry across the room in surprise. Before harm can come to it, he deposits the beetle back into its tank.

“Is that a bug?” Gorou sneaks up closer, peering over Itto’s shoulder. A few drops from his wet hair lands on Itto.

“A beetle,” Itto says, sheepish. His bedroom is littered with them. “If you think they’re too gross I can make the couch for you.”

Gorou ponders it. “They’re not free-roaming, right? As long as I won’t wake up with a bug crawling on my face I guess it’s fine.”

“I’m glad! They’re really awesome! Some are even kinda friendly. Do you wanna hold one?”

“I think I’ll pass. Did you get me some clothes?”

Gorou dresses in the shirt, which is long enough to keep him semi modest. He passes up the pants. Itto feels himself getting horny again. To calm himself he lets the water run cold as he showers, which literally shrinks the problem away. When he’s done, Gorou’s in his kitchen, rummaging around the cupboards.

“Curry?” he asks, holding out a package of roux.

The curry they make is simple but filling and will prevent any hangovers. Itto skims the froth off the top before serving it over rice. 

They eat in the living room. Gorou has made himself at home, emitting an air of comfort that makes sharing space with him feel natural. It’s at odds with his earlier shyness, but more in line with how he normally is.

“Do you feel better?” Gorou asks while they eat.

It takes a while for the question to sink in. “About Sara? Yeah, lots. I don’t even care anymore.”

“You got over her fast.”

“Maybe you were right, and I wasn’t actually into her. Or maybe you have a magic touch.” A thought occurs to him. “Hey, you didn’t fuck me because you pity me, right?”

Gorou puts his bowl down. He inches closer, the couch dipping under the weight of his knees. It’s twelve AM and pitch-black outside. Gorou descends upon Itto like a lure cast in water, placing himself in Itto’s lap. No one has ever looked so attractive under the orange glow of the living room lamp.

“Of course not,” Gorou says. 

His calves are defined and covered in soft hairs that Itto runs his fingers through. If he follows the trail to the end of the road there’s Gorou’s cock, soft and half-hidden under the shirt.

“I swear,” Gorou says, insistent. “I just saw the opportunity.”

“What do you mean?”

“You were looking at me. And touching me. I figured it was worth a try.”

“And you said you’re bad with romance. Pah!”

Gorou averts his eyes, shy again. “It’s not romance, it’s sex. It’s different.”

“So you are a slut!” Itto winks to make sure Gorou doesn’t take it the wrong way.

“Oh my God!” Gorou shrieks, appalled, though he’s laughing. “No more than you are, surely!”

“Yes, and I’m proud of it.”

Gorou kisses his nose. As they finish their meal Itto keeps rubbing Gorou’s knobby ankle bone, his calves, and the tender inside of his knee. Gorou’s on his phone. He has to squint against the blue light.

“I told my friends I’m staying the night,” Gorou says. “I’m sorry if I kick you in my sleep.”

In bed, Gorou is soft and warm, just like a teddy bear. Itto holds him to his chest until it gets uncomfortably hot, and they have to spread out into opposite corners. Gorou passes out first, curled up against himself and snoring softly.

Itto is developing heart problems. There’s no other explanation for the sudden palpitations he experiences as he watches Gorou sleep.