Archive of Our Own

By some miracle, all of his fears were groundless. He thought that as soon he brought up the idea of kissing and maybe having sex again Aoba would give him a strange look, maybe even one teetering on the edge of outright horrified, call him a pervert and reject him so resolutely he’d never be able to recover from it. But none of that happened - Aoba accepted him again and gave his consent to both suggestions.

Both of them. It’s not easy to wrap his head around.

Not only was he able to kiss those soft lips again (and told that he could do it whenever he wanted), he’s received another chance to touch Aoba - he can hardly believe things went so well after he spent the last several days pointlessly worrying himself into a panic.

It’s also a chance to make up for that horrific debacle that was their first time.

God, his body is so stupid - why did it have to choose that moment to bleed everywhere? He even got some on Aoba… It was supposed to be special, it was supposed to be perfect, sure, it happened unexpectedly, something neither of them planned, but that’s just another thing that should have made it even more special, isn’t it? But, of course, he had to screw it up… After the first time, he never thought it would happen again, passing it off as a freak coincidence, but then it did happen again - while he was with Aoba…

He was so embarrassed. At the time, he wanted nothing more than to disappear and hide his face in shame (forever, if it needed to be that way), and Aoba laughing about it certainly didn’t help, no matter how cute his laugh is…

But, this time, it’s not going to happen - it’s not going to happen ever again.

That’s not something he should be thinking about right now though, not when his thoughts would be better occupied by what’s happening right now. That being sitting next to Aoba, on his own bed, with that smaller, unmarred hand tucked safely within his, shaking nervously (or is that his own hand that’s shaking? It could even be both).

Aoba makes the first move, leaning in to gingerly press their lips together. It’s such a shy, gentle action, like he’s not totally certain of what he’s doing due to coyness or just a lack of experience - either way, it’s so endearing Koujaku could possibly explode.

Koujaku’s hand shifts to enable their fingers to intertwine with each other as he licks across the seam of Aoba’s lips. Aoba lets him in with a soft sound, and he takes the chance to lick across his teeth, stroke against his tongue, feel its warmth, indulge in his taste. His hand comes up to brush his fingers against the younger male’s face, letting them linger there; he can feel strands of that unique hair tickling the back of his hand, but he’s going to do his best to refrain from touching them. He already did that before, and Aoba seemed a little uncomfortable with it, he’d really like to be able to touch his hair again but it’s best not to press his luck - Aoba might change his mind about letting him cut it.

But he wants to touch it again so badly… but he won’t. Instead, he’ll distract himself by concentrating on that warm tongue he’s playing with, those soft moans and sighs that slip out past it, that hot cheek his thumb is caressing, holding that warm hand he’s so familiar with (regardless of it no longer being that tiny hand he’s used to).

Yeah, those things will definitely be able to distract him sufficiently enough.

A hand comes up to rest against his shoulder, the touch light and unsure of itself, a little awkward and stiff but it’s enough to ignite a fierce heat within himself. He wants to touch Aoba some more, touch him everywhere, kiss him hard, hold him tight—

He’s already far too excited - this could be bad (again). But, no, he won’t let that happen - well… he’ll try not to let it happen.

But he can’t beat back that urge, that need too go farther, so he begins trying to guide Aoba to lie down, pressing against him with his shoulder. He stops though, finding that it’s not just that unsure hand on his shoulder that’s tense and uncomfortable, it’s Aoba’s entire body. So, instead, he ends up separating their mouths, pulling his head away to give the smaller male an attentive and concerned look.

“What’s wrong?”

It takes a moment for him to say anything, instead he shifts his eyes to look away, his cheeks flushed and his bottom lip caught between his teeth. “N-nothing really…” he tries to bring his gaze back to Koujaku’s face but fails miserably, staring at his chest instead. “It’s just… being here - on your bed - like this…” he takes a deep breath and shifts his body a little, “it’s kind of strange… I guess I’m just sort of… uncomfortable…?”

That makes sense. Aoba’s never even been in his bedroom before (apart from when he first moved in after coming back to Midorijima and Aoba asked him to show him around the place, but that was a few years ago), but he definitely doesn’t want Aoba to be uncomfortable.

“What do you need me to do to make you more comfortable?”

“Ah… well… I don’t think there’s anything you can do about that…” he lets out a somewhat forced laugh and rubs the back of his neck, “I-it’s okay though. I’m sure it’ll get better - I’ll get used to it eventually…”

Koujaku isn’t sure if “get used to it eventually” means Aoba will get comfortable as they continue on, or if he’s saying he’ll get used to it as they do this more often. Either way, that one little phrase is enough to make his heart race. Not only are they going to be together a second time, but… is Aoba implying there could be even more chances for them to do this?

He’s unable to focus on that for too long though; Aoba’s already trying to rejoin their mouths, he moves in quickly like he’s embarrassed and doesn’t know what else he’s supposed to do, but Koujaku is more than happy to give him exactly what he wants. He presses into Aoba’s lips, slipping his tongue out to lick his way back inside that warm mouth.

He’s decided he’ll take Aoba’s word, hoping that he will be able to relax and enjoy what they’re doing, and moves to continue.

Koujaku’s hand finally decides to leave Aoba’s face, moving to slip his fingers beneath the hem of Aoba’s shirt instead, sliding his hands upward, fingertips gliding over his smooth stomach, noting the slight muscle definition he noticed before but didn’t take much time to fully admire. This time, he does take a few moments to study them, moving over them a few times with his thumbs and fingertips.

Aoba reels back suddenly and presses his hand against his mouth as Koujaku’s thumbs near his navel. It’s a fruitless maneuver though, the laughter still manages to trickle out despite his hand being there to stop it.

“D-don’t - that tickles!”

Koujaku smiles at that, unable to keep himself from doing it even if he wanted to (which he definitely doesn’t).

“Sorry, I forgot.”

Except that isn’t true at all - he didn’t forget, he did it on purpose. He just wanted to make sure he remembered where that spot was, pleased to find that he did.

Aoba gives him a look that clearly states that he doesn’t believe him, but Koujaku descends upon his mouth again before he has a chance to say anything.

He indulges in the taste of Aoba again, allowing his hands to continue. They slide upwards, the fabric of the smaller male’s shirt bunching up at his wrists as they move. It’s surprising that Aoba doesn’t protest when his hands retreat to grip the shirt and pull it over his head, instead, he raises his arms to make the action easier. When Koujaku lets the shirt drop to the floor, for whatever reason he’s shocked when it reveals a flat chest and…

A male body.

Well, of course that’s what he’d find - Aoba is a guy after all. It’s not like it’s something he wasn’t expecting, but it’s still kind of… strange. Especially because of how badly his hands are aching to touch it right now.

Aoba’s a guy - he might have been cute enough for Koujaku to mistake him for a girl when they were younger, but now he is very obviously a guy.

Aoba’s a guy, and, in spite of that, he still finds him cute, and attractive, and sexy, and he wants to touch and kiss him all over.

Aoba’s a guy, and he’s still very in love with him.

It’s definitely strange, he’s always thought girls are really cute, always been attracted to them, and yet Aoba manages to make all sorts of feelings of endearment bubble up in his chest (and other places) - the same ones any pretty girl could bring on (maybe even more). But it’s no use wondering why, no use in trying to figure that out, he’d probably never be able to do it anyway. So, instead of running in circles trying to explain how or when or why it happened, he’ll just accept it and love Aoba as much as he can.

“Koujaku…” He brings his attention back to Aoba’s face. The younger male’s eyebrows are drawn together and his mouth is curved into a frown, it looks like he’s trying to cover himself up with his arms too. “You’re… staring really hard…”

He didn’t actually mean to stare for quite this long… but he can save this.

“Sorry…” He leans down to press a kiss to Aoba’s forehead, getting a little distracted and continuing down his face, kissing his cheek, continuing along his jaw to his chin, finally arriving at his mouth to kiss at both of his lips. “I was just admiring how cute you are.”

His statement is, as expected, immediately met with another scowl and a low groan.

“I don’t need to hear that…”

“It’s true though… You’ve always been really cute.”

“…Jeez…”

He lets out a soft chuckle when the younger male rolls his eyes, and then moves in to nip at Aoba’s mouth a little more before going for Aoba’s pants. He’s able to swiftly undo them, still amazed that Aoba hasn’t stopped him like he did last time.

It’s sort of feels like he’s unwrapping a present, a very cute and lovable present, and it’s pretty exciting.

His fingers slip into the hem of Aoba’s jeans and waste no time in beginning to slide them down, and his actions are only met with a soft grunt. They’re dropped to the floor to join his shirt, and the sight before him makes his heart race - smooth skin exposed just for him to touch and kiss and adore. Just one thing left and he’ll have access to everything, and he can begin painting every inch of Aoba’s body with his love.

Should he really be this excited though? It’s not like it’s going to be the first time he sees Aoba naked, but it feels like it is.

He licks his lips absentmindedly as he hooks his fingers into the elastic band of Aoba’s blue boxers. As soon as he tugs at them, Aoba’s hands clasp tightly around his wrists. Concerned, he removes his gaze from that area to look at the smaller male’s face.

Aoba’s eyes are directed away from him, his lips pressed into a thin line.

“Koujaku… wait…”

“Is something wrong?”

Aoba hesitates for a moment, still unable to make eye contact or even look at Koujaku’s face, “This time… y-you too…”

He can only give Aoba a confused stare, furrowing his eyebrows, trying hard to understand.

“Your… clothes… I don’t want to be the only one this time…”

“Ah—” it’s like all the air has been forced from his lungs, his brain has melted into mush, and his heart pounds for a different reason.

Who knew such a harmless request could cause so much anxiety?

But how could he ever deny Aoba anything? He doesn’t think he ever could. Besides, it’ll benefit him as well, he’ll be able to feel Aoba against him much more easily, there won’t be anything in the way.

It’s definitely not going to be an easy task though, not with so much unease building up inside, lurking around every corner. It brings back all of the fears he had before, before Platinum Jail, before Oval Tower, before all of that:

If Aoba sees all the marks on my body… will he hate me? Will he be afraid?

He always made sure to cover up the tattoos, to cover up all the scars he could, to pretend he was still that same person Aoba (very obviously) looked up to when they were kids, that person who protected him and made him smile. He’d pretend he wasn’t a mother-killing monster so Aoba would never know just how despicable he actually was.

But that was before, and this is now. So many things have happened since then; he doesn’t need to hide or pretend anymore. Just like before, when they were small and innocent, Aoba knows him inside and out, even the horrible things he’d prefer Aoba didn’t know.

And yet the apprehension is still there, threatening to eat him up.

Aoba already knows they’re there, he’s seen them, he already knows what happened - it’s okay. He accepted them, he accepted me - it will be okay.

But it doesn’t matter how many times he repeats these things in his head, the anxieties remain, hanging on with a death grip. But he takes a deep breath and lets it out slowly, trying one more time to reassure himself.

It’ll be fine.

“Yeah… all right…”

And Aoba actually looks surprised, his eyes widen and his lips part just a little bit.

“Do you want me to—”

He doesn’t wait for Aoba to finish, and cuts in.

“N-no, I’ll… do it myself…”

He assumes Aoba was going to ask if he should help. Should he help? Would that make this easier or harder? It doesn’t really matter though, he’ll just do it himself and get it over with.

It takes time to gather up enough courage to even move, he’s nervous as hell even though he’s sure he has no reason to be. He still has to keep telling himself that Aoba has already seen the scars and tattoos that cover his body - he already knows about everything, he accepted his past, he accepted him.

Aoba accepted him, every part of him, and, somehow, still loves him regardless. He doesn’t need to worry like this. It’s ridiculous that he’s worrying so much anyway - Aoba just asked him to take off his clothes, it’s not like he asked him to murder someone.

But he can’t stop.

With a deep breath, he begins with something easy - the cover on his neck and the bands on his arms. Next, is unwinding the wraps on his arms and legs.

Easy.

But his hands shake when they begin to remove his kimono, and it feels like he’s slipping his arms out of the sleeves as slowly as possible.

It doesn’t help that Aoba’s staring at him, with an expression that clearly shows that he doesn’t know what else he’s supposed to be doing right now - occasionally, his eyes will dart to the side and he’ll bite his lip, the bright pink blush on his cheeks ever-present. He looks adorable. Maybe if he focuses on that, the task at hand won’t seem so stressful.

So, he tries doing just that, besides, the sooner he gets his clothes off, the sooner he can get back to kissing that adorable face. With that thought in mind, he attempts to steel himself (feeling annoyed that he even needs to do that).

Except it doesn’t work - at all.

The apprehensive thoughts continue to eat away at his mind, growing even stronger and more relentless as he lets his kimono join the other articles of clothing on the floor. Most of the tattoo spread across his upper body is exposed now, feeling like it’s burning his skin, feeling like it’s drawing the attention of dozens of judging eyes to burn his skin even further. The urge to immediately cover them back up claws and gnashes around in his head, but he needs to resist - except he doesn’t know if he can.

Why is this… so hard? He can’t recall a time he’s ever felt as self-conscious as he does right now; it’s a bizarre and unwelcome feeling. But he should keep going before he loses what’s left of his rapidly crumbling nerve, quickly pulling off the wrapping on his abdomen, and then pulling together the remains of his courage to take off his pants.

Once all of it is gone, he feels so… bare, so exposed, uncomfortable. It feels like Aoba is staring at him really hard, like his gaze alone is enough to burn a hole straight through him.

No, it doesn’t feel like Aoba is staring at him, it’s more like he’s staring at his skin - the things permanently etched into it, all the pain, the anger, the sadness they all hold. The last time they did this, he was okay because he was still covered a bit, most of the scars and tattoos were concealed, but, this time, there’s nothing - every little mark is exposed for those hazel eyes to see.

Maybe they should stop…

He’s certain he only feels this way because it’s Aoba, he wouldn’t mind as much if it was someone else, he never has. He did spend years hiding them from him after all, evading any and all mentions of the mark across the bridge of his nose and the multiple marks on his fingers, waving them off with a joke, by changing the subject, or, sometimes, even with complete silence. It didn’t matter when Aoba would get frustrated, sometimes to the point of shouting at him to stop trying to avoid his questions, he still wouldn’t answer, wouldn’t explain himself. He never wanted Aoba to know why they were there, he never wanted Aoba to know about that dangerous side he can’t control.

He never wanted the one person who means everything to him to be afraid of him - or even hate him.

And yet, despite all his efforts to keep everything hidden from him, to protect him from how dirty, tainted, corrupted he’d become, his efforts were in vain; Aoba did find out about those markings, his past, everything. And Aoba isn’t afraid of him, doesn’t hate him.

It’s more than he could have hoped for.

So why is he acting like this, breath ragged, hands shaking, his head dropped to stare down at the floor? Why can’t he push all those feelings aside, feelings of still wanting to hide everything from Aoba’s eyes even after he’s already seen it all?

And why is Aoba staring so hard at him - at those marks?

There’s a tiny bit of courage left and he uses it to force his gaze back to Aoba, inhaling sharply once he can see those hazel eyes again.

Aoba is… smiling at him.

Maybe he’s not staring at those things, looking at him now makes that obvious, painfully so. Aoba’s looking at his face, and he is smiling, it’s slight but warm and encouraging regardless. It’s as if he already knows there’s a war raging within Koujaku’s mind and wants to tell him it’s going to be okay.

Aoba’s not looking at all those ugly marks after all, Aoba is looking at him.

The younger male’s arms wrap themselves loosely around Koujaku’s neck, pulling him into a tight and loving embrace, rejoining their mouths to press soft reassuring kisses against his lips.

It is fine, he’s going to be fine, he doesn’t need to worry like this - definitely not with Aoba. He presses back against Aoba’s lips, trying to silently convey this to him, wrapping his arms around him to hold him just as tightly, nipping at his bottom lip, his top lip, and then swiping at the seam with his tongue. Aoba lets it in without hesitation, caressing it with his own tongue.

Koujaku guides him to lie down without needing to separate their mouths. But, eventually they do separate, both needing to come up for air. He leans in to kiss at Aoba’s chin, moving along his jaw, up to his cheek, kissing everywhere on his face he can reach. Between soft sounds of approval, he hears Aoba speak, it’s soft and barely audible, but he’s able to hear it anyway.

“Koujaku… I… love you…”

It doesn’t matter how hard he tries, he can’t seem to get any air in to or out of his lungs. Just hearing Aoba say those words— He doesn’t know what to think, doesn’t know how to think, his thoughts become muddled and excited and his heart is pounding so fast it feels like it could pop right out of his chest.

“I love you too, Aoba… I love you so much… I’ve always loved you, and I always will.” But he can’t actually make the words leave his mouth, they get trapped at the tip of his tongue as his breath hitches in his throat. All he manages to do is gawk down at Aoba with wide eyes, most likely revealing the emotion through them.

“You’re staring again…”

He blinks a few times, trying to rid his face of that expression that he’s sure looked very silly, and, finally, he can breathe again. The smile comes back to his face as he reaches down to brush the back of his fingers across Aoba’s hot cheek.

“Sorry, can’t help it…”

With a sigh, Aoba rolls his eyes, and Koujaku can’t help smiling about that. It seems like every little thing Aoba does is able to make him smile. Now that he has Aoba he’s definitely happy - truly happy.

But is it okay for someone like him to even be this happy?

Aoba’s able to unknowingly distract him from these thoughts by reaching down to begin to peel off his own boxers, trying to wiggle out of them. Koujaku moves to help get them off, gliding his palm across Aoba’s leg on the way down, unable to keep himself from doing it even if he wanted to.

Everywhere he touches, Aoba’s skin is so smooth and clean and he really likes touching it. Even though he likes that about it, he’d also like to mark it up, suck the skin to paint it with purple marks and leave finger-shaped bruises from holding on too tightly, and raise so many goosebumps with gentle caresses. He’d like to make those things happen soon, his heart races at the thought of seeing Aoba that way.

His hand moves back up Aoba’s leg, and comes to rest at his hip. He lets his thumb stroke over the pelvic bone there, and Aoba’s hips twitch a little - is it ticklish there too? Briefly, he thinks this would be a great place to hold on to (and a nice place for those finger-shaped bruises he was thinking about seconds ago) when he begins to pound into him, make him cry out, whimper his name, plead for more—

Okay… best not to think things like that right now, or even at all unless he wants this to come to a premature end because his own body betrayed him.

(Those types of thoughts bring back the confusion of being so attracted to a male body, but he quickly tries to force them away again before they can become a problem.)

He swallows hard and forces his hand to keep moving upward, away from that area and away from those thoughts. His fingers glide up Aoba’s side, across his ribs - Aoba’s so skinny… He’s always known that, but seeing him without his clothing makes it more obvious, he noticed that before too, but he didn’t really have time to pay much attention to it. When his fingers reach a certain spot just underneath his armpit, Aoba’s muscles tense suddenly and he jerks his head back, trying to squirm away as laughter bursts from his throat.

“K-Koujaku! Stop doing that!”

And another ticklish area is found. He’ll definitely try to remember where it is but he won’t dwell on it for now, uttering a quick apology before continuing on.

His hand slides around to Aoba’s chest, and he splays his fingers across the hot skin, feeling the rise and fall of his chest, moving in time with the younger male’s uneven breathing, feeling his heart thundering just underneath. And then he freezes - is his hand really big or is Aoba kind of small? Aoba is definitely much smaller than he is, it’s always very noticeable when they’re near each other. It’s not something he only noticed just now - Aoba’s always been noticeably smaller than him - but, for whatever reason, it blows all other thoughts out of his head and he’s unable to focus on anything else. He’s completely mesmerized by this fact and it’s so bizarre.

Is it possible for him to crush Aoba? He’s so much larger and stronger than him, so… maybe. But he’d never do that, he’d never want to, he’d never hurt Aoba, but he should be careful just in case.

He could definitely pick him up though, he learned that when Aoba got sick while they were at Platinum Jail. Aoba was so light and easy to carry, it wasn’t even challenging to carry him up a flight of stairs. If Aoba ever needs him to carry him again, he certainly wouldn’t mind. He could probably even hold him up during sex—

Okay… He shouldn’t be focusing on this as hard as he is, it shouldn’t be as fascinating as it is. He should definitely keep going, maybe even abandon his previous admirations of Aoba’s body, and he should do it quickly. His mind has started to go down a strange path, and Aoba is about to tell him to stop staring for a third time, Koujaku knows that even without looking at his face. So that’s what he’s going to do, silently making a promise to himself that if Aoba lets him do this a third time, a fourth, a fifth, maybe even more, he’ll continue where he left off; he’s definitely going to take his time to learn everything about Aoba’s body.

In his peripheral vision, he can see Aoba open his mouth, surely about to tell him to stop staring again, so he quickly brings his other hand up to rest against the smaller man’s chest and begins to stroke his nipples with the pads of his thumbs. This earns him a sharp gasp and a soft moan, Aoba arching his back and pressing into his touch.

“K-Kou…jaku—”

“Does that feel good…?” he almost doesn’t recognize his own voice - has it ever been that low and smooth before? Aoba doesn’t answer, doesn’t even tell him to shut up or call him an “idiot” or a “hippo”, he just lets out another half-moan and turns his head away, his face possibly even redder than before.

Is it because of the way his voice sounded just now? It seemed to get positive results the last time they were together too, so maybe. Thinking about that causes him to laugh silently to himself - isn’t Aoba supposed to be the one with the mysterious voice ability?

He’s back to focusing on teasing Aoba’s nipples, circling them with his fingertips, lightly brushing over them with his nails, before bringing his thumbs back to rub them. Again, Aoba’s breathing his name with that beautiful voice of his as he pinches them between his thumbs and index fingers, rolling them between them. They’ve hardened by now and every light touch earns him a shiver and a strangled pant, it begins to make him feel sort of like a masochist. Every action is meant to tease Aoba, meant to build up the pleasure in his belly so he feels it so much more when he reaches the end, but every one of Aoba’s reactions are making him feel like he’s about to come apart at the seams, making him feel like the one being teased is himself, but he couldn’t force himself to stop trying to coax those sounds and movements out of him if he wanted to.

It’s kind of embarrassing how quickly Aoba is able to destroy all of his defenses and make him feel this way with the softest sounds and the slightest movements. It’s embarrassing that he’s already so wound up when they haven’t even done much yet.

Before he’s even able to think about it, he’s leaning in to press his lips against one of the hardened nubs, letting his tongue slip out to flick over it, circle around it, press into it before taking it into his mouth. He sucks on it lightly, hearing a gasp from Aoba, so he licks at it, pulls back to press a kiss to it only to quickly pull it back into his mouth. He lavishes even more attention on it with his tongue,  feeling Aoba grope at his neck, his fingers seeming to search for something before ending up in his hair, holding tightly. There’s a strained moan as he licks over Aoba’s nipple again, and the fingers in his hair tighten as he presses his thumb into the other nipple, rubbing circles into it, giving it just as much attention as the one trapped between his lips. Aoba’s back arches, pressing his chest further against Koujaku’s mouth and fingers so he doesn’t want to stop. He can feel Aoba’s arousal graze against his stomach and it leaves behind a slight wetness, which serves to strengthen the desire to keep his attention on Aoba’s chest.

But then there’s a light “slap” and it catches his interest. Also, the sounds coming from Aoba’s mouth have changed, they’ve become muffled and slightly higher pitched, making him want to see what sort of face Aoba is making right now. A thin string of saliva trails from his mouth only to quickly snap as he finally forces himself to pull away, feeling the fingers tangled within his hair immediately begin to relax their hold on it, and he hears a groan. He tilts his head just enough to look at the younger male’s face.

It’s still bright red and he’s staring up at the ceiling, eyebrows slightly pulled together while he holds the back of his hand firmly against his mouth. And… there’s something else that piques his interest.

All of Aoba’s squirming around has caused his hair to fan out a bit, revealing that lovely neck of his. He’s not sure how it happened, but he ends up staring at it, wanting to touch it, kiss it, taste it. And now his thoughts from before come floating back. A few purplish marks would definitely look nice there too. Everyone would see those ones, everyone would know that Aoba is his - it’s a possessive way of thinking, but he doesn’t really mind. Besides, it’s not like he would be against Aoba marking him up in the same way.

That sounds amazing, actually. He’s not going to tell Aoba to do it, but if it ends up happening he would not mind it at all. Maybe he’ll even display them proudly, show them off.

He moves towards Aoba’s neck, a new desire pushing him forward, and presses kisses up and down it, across his jaw, and quickly back to his neck. His lips brush against a few strands of hair and he takes a moment to kiss at them, brush his nose against them. He won’t touch it too much this time though, he doesn’t want to cause Aoba too much discomfort, so he quickly forces himself away from the blue strands, bringing his attention fully back to Aoba’s neck. He starts up the motions of playing with Aoba’s nipple again, pinching it between his thumb and index finger before soothing over it with gentle and slow strokes with the pad of his thumb. The stimulation makes Aoba’s hips jerk and grind against him, trying to get as much friction as he can. Koujaku lets out a rough breath and begins to grind against his movements just as he pulls a bit of skin between his teeth.

He really does want to leave marks, but he shouldn’t… Except he can’t help himself, he’s already sucking on the skin, soothing it over with his tongue afterward. Just one won’t hurt, right? Right. Just one.

He tells himself that, but he’s already moving on to press his teeth into more areas, biting and sucking and licking and, oops, now there are three marks trailing down toward Aoba’s collarbones. His mouth follows along that area, licking across the bone, scraping his teeth against it. He’s telling himself he should stop, but he’s still pressing indents into the skin, teeth marks and bruises, more purple marks. Now he’s arrived at Aoba’s chest again, pulls skin between his teeth, sucks blood to the surface, and licks over it, all the while his mind is saying “stop, stop, stop” reminding himself that he told himself he would only leave one, but now there are at least seven.

There probably would have been more, but Aoba’s fingers have found their way back into his black hair, gripping it tightly and using it to pull his head back up to join their mouths together again. It’s probably for the best… but he can’t think about that for too long with Aoba’s tongue poking at the seam of his lips. He gladly lets it in as his hand finally moves away from Aoba’s chest, both hands sliding down to grip Aoba’s hips. A yelp leaves the younger male as he’s roughly lifted and pulled further into Koujaku’s lap, wanting to give Aoba more friction and beginning to want more himself.

A certain realization hits him then - even though he was so hesitant at first, even though it felt like it took forever for him to make it happen, this no-clothes thing was definitely a good idea. Aoba’s warm skin feels so good against his - why didn’t they do this last time?

That want for more is ever-present, making his skin feel too hot, so he decides it should be okay to indulge just a little bit. One hand moves between their bodies, fingertips gliding along the smaller male’s skin on the way down, and curls around Aoba’s cock, he pumps it a few times, lightly coating it with the precum gathered at its tip, and then stops moving. The younger male bends into his touch when he doesn’t do anything after that, letting slip a whimper of his name. Koujaku presses a kiss to his forehead to soothe him, silently tell him to be patient, as he shifts to press his hips further against Aoba’s.

“Koujaku— your hand… Don’t just—” but the words are bitten off by a light sound of embarrassment, like Aoba hadn’t actually meant to say anything, hadn’t meant to let those thoughts escape from his head and out his mouth. He quickly turns his head to the side and presses his lips into a thin line - Koujaku finds him so cute he can’t help pressing another kiss to his forehead.

“What’s wrong? Want me to move it?”

“Yes— I-I mean… no! I mean—” Aoba bites his lip and shoots a glare up at the older male who can only stare back, the corner of his mouth turning up into a smile.

“You’re cute.”

“I… already said I don’t want to hear that…!”

“But it’s true.”

Aoba responds with a snort and rolls his eyes, “Jeez…” It’s astounding how quickly he can shift from being so sensual and sexy, to embarrassed, and then on to irritated. It makes Koujaku want to tell him he’s cute all over again, but he won’t because the light throb in his lower regions really wants him to get back to what he was originally going to do.

He gathers his own dick into the same hand he’s already holding Aoba’s with and— Rationality suddenly makes a return - he didn’t think this far ahead, he was driven on by carnal needs and the desire to make his lover feel good. He didn’t expect this to feel so weird and embarrassing but he realizes that now, so he hesitates, mulling over what he’s doing.

Yeah, it’s definitely kind of weird, but he’ll push past those thoughts, wanting to receive more of Aoba’s sounds as soon as possible, and possibly alleviate that building achy feeling between his own legs (even though he should already know that what he’s about to do will only make it worse).

He moves his hand down both of them, precum making the movement easier, and he shudders. Maybe… this wasn’t such a good idea after all. But he takes the plunge and thrusts his hips into his own hand, thrusts against Aoba’s dick, and the smaller male is immediately back to “sensual and sexy” (and clearly a little shocked too). Except Aoba’s making wonderful sounds again, held back but wonderful nonetheless, so he keeps doing it. For a few seconds, he returns to thinking it’s weird to be making love to him like this - fucking against Aoba’s arousal and his own hand - but he can’t contain himself, driven on merely by the intense need to make Aoba feel good while wanting just a little for himself too.

Aoba doesn’t seem to mind it at all, that blush is still spread across his face, but he’s trying his best to rock back against Koujaku’s movements, trying to increase the friction, but Koujaku’s holding him so securely that he’s unable to move too much. Aoba tries to say his name, obviously trying to hold it in too, so it comes out half bitten off. Seeing him like this makes it difficult to concentrate on how weird he feels, making him forget the feeling completely and further kindling the desire to make Aoba feel it more, more, more.

They begin to grind against each other more roughly, and Koujaku’s free hand slides slightly downward, pressing his fingers into Aoba’s thigh, kneading the flesh with his thumb. He might be pressing too hard, he might leave marks, that would be fine though, to leave more of his marks upon Aoba’s skin. He’s the only one who would know about the majority of the marks. It’s tempting, but he’s not going to force it to happen.

Aoba’s hands come to rest at the back of the older male’s neck, hands and arms shaking as his fingertips press into his skin. His hips buck and jerk against every thrust against his cock, every short stroke by the fingers circled around their arousals, and Koujaku can’t take his eyes off his face. He watches it closely, noticing every twitch of his mouth, his eyes, his eyebrows, everything, and he doesn’t even have to worry about Aoba telling him to stop staring so hard because the smaller male has his eyes squeezed shut. The sight draws out a moan and he barely recognizes that it’s from his own mouth.

He keeps his gaze on Aoba’s face as his hand ends up curving around to rest on Aoba’s butt. His fingers give the cheek a little squeeze, kneads the smooth flesh with his thumb. He’s always thought that Aoba has a nice butt, but that’s one of those thoughts he was never able to express, one he always tried to kill or ignore until recently. But now, he can touch it and admire it as much as he likes, and he definitely doesn’t hate that.

One finger moves between the cheeks to swipe downward along the crease, and Aoba’s hips jerk slightly, breaking the rhythm he had built up, when it passes over his hole, trying to press back into his finger for more, or trying to squirm away because it tickles, Koujaku isn’t certain - either way, it’s definitely adorable.

His finger travels downward even more, and touches against his balls. That earns him a positive reaction - Aoba’s eyebrows draw together and his mouth drops open and lets out a heavy breath - so he adds a second finger, drags both of them across his balls a few times, traces circles into the flesh. He curves his touch back up the crease of Aoba‘s ass, brings his finger back to press against the warm and trembling hole, marveling at the sight of Aoba arching towards him, and, this time, it’s obvious that he’s trying to press into Koujaku’s hand. He gives him what he wants (kind of), swiping across the rim, and then pressing into it some more, applying just enough pressure to elicit a response - a soft gasp and the tightening of his lover’s arms around him - but not enough to breach.

Aoba wiggles some more, still trying to persuade Koujaku to give him more (which he will, he definitely will - he’ll give Aoba anything he wants and needs). Koujaku wants more too, his body aching and doing everything it can to tell him it wants to come, but now’s not the time, Aoba has to be prepared first.

He should start doing that right now or they’re both going to finish before he even gets the chance to be inside… A hushed murmur of his name is enough to spur him forward, and he removes his hand from their dicks and that earns him a groan.

He continues to lavish attention upon Aoba’s opening with his other hand, caressing the rim, circling it, feeding on all of his reactions, as he reaches blindly with his free hand. It fumbles around and he can’t find what he’s searching for - it would be much easier if he’d just look at what he’s doing, but he doesn’t want to take his eyes off Aoba. What if it isn’t Aoba when he looks back? What if this is all a delusion caused by sleep deprivation (even though he knows he hasn’t been sleeping that poorly lately) or over-consumption of alcohol (even though he knows he hasn’t drank anything today, hasn’t had a drink for a few days actually) and everything with Aoba never actually happened, he’s actually with someone else right now and he’s only imagining he’s with Aoba? So he’s not going to take his eyes off him to make certain that doesn’t happen.

Except he still can’t find what he’s searching for - where the hell did he put it? Just as he’s beginning to think he’s going to need to look away, he slides his hand underneath the pillow and— There it is. He pulls out the brand-new bottle of lube he bought specifically if this ever happened. Thinking about that now… was it a little too enthusiastic of him to do that? After all, at the time, he had no idea if Aoba would ever want to be with him like this again, so maybe he was a little overzealous to do so… Well, he’ll worry about that later.

Aoba finally reopens his eyes, taking notice of what Koujaku is doing, letting out a half-moan once he eyes the bottle - is it from anticipation or annoyance? Maybe even a little bit of both. His eyes squeeze shut and he’s arching again, Koujaku’s name tumbling out with a needy-sounding breath once his touches leave Aoba’s opening.

That’s definitely anticipation.

It’s enough to kindle his own excitement and he’s hurriedly squeezing some of the contents of the bottle onto his fingers. Just enough…

Okay, maybe it’s a little too much, but he’ll be damned if he’s going to hurt Aoba.

His fingers are back at Aoba’s entrance just as the smaller male looks like he’s about to let out a groan of complaint, rubbing against it, swirling around it, passing over it again and again to coat it thoroughly with the gel. The thought of teasing is there, the want to prolong this moment has a strong presence within his mind, but he’s unable to act on it, Aoba’s little pants and gasps and the way he keeps pushing into his touch is making him want more, more of his reactions, more whispers of his name by that wonderful voice, more evidence that he’s feeling good, more of Aoba as a whole. It all comes together and makes him want to give Aoba more, to make him feel even better.

He wants even more proof that Aoba wants him too.

Maybe he’s being greedy wanting so much from Aoba… He’s never like this, he’s never been like this, Aoba must have some sort of strange effect on him. But he realizes he doesn’t really mind - as long as Aoba feels good.

One finger slips inside to the first knuckle and then the second; Aoba doesn’t seem to be having any trouble with it, doesn’t seem to be showing signs of discomfort but he stops halfway in anyway.

“Is this okay…?” his voice is almost too quiet, and he’s unsure if he’s speaking to Aoba or himself. Is it really all right for him to be doing this with Aoba, someone so precious to him? Aoba is very important to him, always has been, and he definitely doesn’t want to screw up their relationship - it was so hard to tell him how he felt about him, hard to bring up that he wanted to do this with him again, and both times he was afraid he would ruin what they already had, afraid things would become too awkward between them and he would lose the only person he had left. He felt the same way before, but now they’re going to be together a second time… So why does he still feel this way?

He can feel Aoba’s fingers on his neck, caressing, soothing, becoming tangled in his dark hair. And then there’s pressure, Aoba pulling him downward to connect with his mouth again. It’s a quick and gentle kiss, and when they pull away, Aoba gives him a nod.

“It’s fine…”

He can only stare back at Aoba’s face, eyes wide, for a few seconds, and then he can feel the apprehension begin to melt away and a smile spreads across his own face.

It is fine.

He’s able to press his finger in all the way then, taking a moment to realize Aoba’s just as tight and warm as he remembered, and it builds up a strong eagerness to have that feeling of being inside of him again.

A shudder suddenly passes through his body and goosebumps raise all across his skin at the thought, and he sort of hopes Aoba didn’t notice…

His finger slides back out and then in again, slow at first, just moving in and out, stroking against his inner walls. All the while, he watches Aoba’s face, watches closely for any sign of pain or discomfort, but he sees neither. Instead, Aoba looks back at him, eyes half-lidded and clouded over with desire—

Aoba is far too much for him to handle…

It’s enough to force him to slip in another finger, it pulls a strained sound from Aoba’s mouth and he can feel the muscles tighten around the digits. Worry comes over him now and his eyebrows draw together - did he move too quickly?

“Does it hurt?”

Aoba immediately shakes his head, his bottom lip caught between his teeth, his entire face flushed a bright red. His mouth opens and then closes again only to repeat the action, he definitely wants to say something but he’s having trouble with actually making the words come. Eventually, Aoba can’t even look at him anymore, turning his head to the side to stare at the wall instead, seeming to give up on whatever he wanted to say.

Koujaku opens his mouth to offer soothing words or to ask what Aoba needs, but the words are lost even to him once one of Aoba’s legs moves to wrap around his waist. He does his best to grind against Koujaku’s fingers as he pulls his bottom lip between his teeth again.

Oh.

His body froze up soon after inserting that second finger, too worried he might have hurt Aoba, but now that he knows what Aoba wants, he’s definitely going to give it to him. He would have loved to have heard it from Aoba (though hearing him say anything like that might actually destroy him completely) but he’ll settle for what he did receive (even that little gesture makes it difficult for him to breathe).

But yeah, he’ll definitely give Aoba what he wants. As much as he’d love to play with him some more, he’s not sure he would be able to hold on long enough to do so - he played around with Aoba so much already that now his own arousal just feels painful… He’d like to relieve it soon, and, by the looks of it, Aoba wants the same thing.

He manages to regain his senses and slides his fingers back out just to press them right back in. A strained grunt leaves Aoba’s mouth, and then evens out into a sigh just as Koujaku is about to ask if he’s all right. With a sound like that, he’s definitely all right, isn’t he? So he keeps going, thrusting again, twisting his wrist, scissoring his fingers apart, and these actions earn him a few more moans.

The greed he felt before rears its head again, and he wants more of these sounds, more positive reactions, so much more. With mechanical movements, his free hand slides around to stroke at Aoba’s length with his fingertips. That earns him a shiver, and curling those fingers around him earns him a hushed groan. He begins to jerk him off, his movements made easier by all the precum sliding down his twitching cock, while keeping his fingers moving around inside him at a leisurely pace.

Aoba arches again and ends up with a fistful of black hair; he’s not holding tight enough to hurt, it seems like he just wanted something to hang on to. Though, in reality, he wouldn’t mind if Aoba pulled on it a little… but he won’t think about that right now.

“Ngh— Koujaku…”

It seems like he’s enjoying this, every reaction seeming to ask for more, but… there’s something on his mind, something that won’t go away. He already asked, but he’ll ask one more time just in case, even if it’s only for his own sake. It doesn’t matter if he’s thoroughly enjoying each and every reaction he’s able to draw out of the younger male, Aoba needs to be okay with what’s going on too.

“Is this still okay?”

He wouldn’t normally worry about it so much, but a hazy memory has burrowed into his thoughts, making a permanent home for itself there. What happened at Glitter will never happen again, even if he has to ask a hundred times, even if he ends up irritating Aoba, he’s not going to let that happen again. It’s something he thinks about often, something he’ll never be able to forget, something he still feels exceedingly guilty about even after apologizing, even after Aoba already forgave him and let him know that he knew it wasn’t something he could control, so he’s always going to wait until he’s certain Aoba is okay with this before continuing on. He’s not going to hurt or scare him ever again.

(Or maybe it’s for his own peace of mind, something to assure himself that he’s not like that - he’s someone who’s in control of himself, he’s not that violent, immoral beast that assaulted his most precious friend.)

Aoba cracks open his eyes, staring intently, like he’s trying to read something on Koujaku’s face, and then he gives a slow nod. That’s enough for him to be sure this is all right, isn’t it? He tells himself he won’t ask again, but he’s not certain if that’s true or not.

He thrusts his fingers in and out a few more times, twisting and scissoring them until he’s satisfied, deciding he’s prepared Aoba enough and that it’s time to move on to other things. He’s not sure if it’s nervousness or excitement clawing around in his chest as he thinks about that.

His hand leaves Aoba’s cock, and he slides his fingers out too, pulling out a light groan from the younger male. Aoba looks sort of frustrated, and he tightens his legs’ grips around Koujaku’s waist like he’s trying to anchor him to his body, keep him from moving and urge him to hurry up and give him more, make them both feel good.

Koujaku’s back straightens out, pulling away to silently admire this amazing body that is Aoba for a few seconds more, eyeing each little mark he left on his skin, before reaching for the bottle again to pour more of the lubricant into his hand.

“Just wait a little longer…” again, he’s unsure if he’s speaking to Aoba or himself, trying to tell Aoba to be a little more patient or trying to tell his own body to calm down. He quickly slathers it onto himself (though not too quickly because his body is already aching and threatening him to hurry up - the timidly eager looks Aoba keeps shooting up at him definitely don’t do anything to help either) and aligns himself with the smaller male’s entrance, rubbing the tip against it, applying just enough pressure to let Aoba know he’s there.

And all the nervousness from when they first started, when he was struggling with removing his own clothing rushes back, slamming into his skull and making him dizzy.

Koujaku leans in to kiss him then, pressing several gentle kisses to his lips, red and swollen from all the kissing before. As he begins to press back into the kiss, the blue-haired male’s body suddenly tenses up - he must have fully realized what’s coming next and now he’s nervous too. The desire to ask if he’s okay builds up again, the question already at the tip of his tongue but he forces it to stay inside; he already told himself he’s not going to ask again, Aoba has already said that it’s okay and he’s going to believe him.

He pulls away just enough to speak, his lips still lightly touching Aoba’s. “I’m gonna… put it in now…” his own voice is unnaturally shaky, so he has to remind himself that this isn’t their first time, he shouldn’t be so nervous.

Aoba visibly swallows and then gives him a quick nod.

Koujaku takes a deep breath and pulls back just a little more, staring intently into those breathtaking hazel eyes for a few seconds, and then he begins to press inside. He sinks in slowly, carefully, it’s already so tight and hot that it takes all of his self-control to not immediately thrust all the way inside. Aoba’s gripping his hair with one hand and digging his fingernails into his shoulder with the other as a gasp tears through his throat, and that doesn’t help push away the need to be fully inside at all - but he still forces himself to be careful. And once he has fully pushed inside, he lets out a rough pant as his arms shake and he almost collapses. It’s so warm inside, all he can think about is that hot, suctioning heat threatening to overwhelm him. He nuzzles his face into Aoba’s neck, peppering the skin there with light kisses, trying to ignore all that heat, trying to keep himself from coming already, and his own gravelly and strained voice is coming out before he can stop it.

“Are you okay…?”

Aoba lets out a harsh breath and quickly shakes his head.

“I’m… fine…” his breathing has gotten a little heavier, going in and coming out in short, cut-off bursts. “You don’t… need to keep asking…”

He almost laughs because it’s the same thing Aoba said when he first arrived at his apartment, when he was allowed to kiss him again and again (he was completely enamored by the look on Aoba’s face when he finally realized Koujaku kept asking if he could kiss him solely to tease him). But he’s too frustrated with himself to laugh, having already told himself the same thing.

It’s all right, he can do this…

Except his body is telling him otherwise. Because of everything he was doing to Aoba before, if he moves at all now he’s going to— No, no, he’ll be fine; he can hold on for a bit longer, right?

That seems to be another mystifying effect Aoba has on him. He’d prefer that not to be the case though, because… well, this one is really fucking embarrassing if he’s perfectly honest with himself - a blow to his pride… But, once again, he assures himself that he’ll be fine and forces himself to start moving. They’re short and harsh thrusts, not what he’d prefer to be doing, but at least he’s moving.

And, fuck, does it feel good…

Aoba’s legs tighten around him and little pants and gasps begin to tickle his ear; his voice is so satisfyingly cute, but he seems to be trying to hold it back. Koujaku would say something about it but it’s a miracle he can even breathe right now, there’s no way he’d be able to speak. So, he lets it go for now, fully appreciating the soft sounds he’s already receiving.

Soon, he’s able to give longer and slower thrusts, able to appreciate the feeling of that heat, that suctioning feeling around his own cock, but he still feels like he’s not going to be able to hold on for much longer. His mouth immediately goes back to Aoba’s neck, hoping that will be able to distract him long enough. He mouths at it, tongue inevitably slipping out to taste the salt, and he shifts the next time he pulls his hips back, trying to attempt another angle, wanting Aoba to feel even better. There doesn’t seem to be any change when he thrusts back in, so he does it again, and Aoba’s thighs tighten around him, his fingernails dig into his shoulders, and a moan bursts past his lips.

A reaction like that is more than satisfying, but he still wants more, wants to try to hit that spot again and give Aoba so much more.

And he does, building up to harder thrusts to hit the spot again and again. It creates a constant slapping sound, skin against skin, that reminds him of what he’s doing right now, not that he forgot, it’s more of a glaringly clear reminder that this is actually happening - Aoba is clinging to him right now, panting softly every time he drives his cock into his warmth (receiving louder, more energetic noises when he hits that spot he’s become so enamored with). He and Aoba are actually having sex right now - he can feel Aoba’s heat all around him, take in his scent, know that the voice crying out in bliss is his - this is real. He only hopes Aoba is feeling just as good (if not better) as he is right now.

And now he’s the one breathing Aoba’s name, feeling like his lungs are burning from how sharply he’s taking in and letting out his breath. Aoba’s clinging to his shoulders, fingers pressing into his skin so hard it hurts a little (maybe he’ll end up with bruises too, but he doesn’t mind at all), responding to Koujaku’s quiet chants of his name with little breaths of Koujaku’s name too.

With every thrust, he’s pushed closer and closer, dangerously close to the edge, silently praying that he’ll last long enough to make Aoba finish.

Aoba’s hands gradually fall away from his shoulders, bringing one to press against his own mouth again while the other lands limply above his head, quickly curling into a tight fist.

“K-Kouja— I’m… I’m gonna—”

And what perfect timing. Except…

Koujaku’s worries of this moment not actually being real end up returning even though he was so convinced just a little while ago. It happened once (which, even now, he’s still not certain if that actually happened or not), and now here they are doing it again - there’s no way it’s real. It’s ridiculous that he’s thinking that way right now, after all they’ve done, all the things he did to try to make Aoba feel good and the things Aoba did (probably unknowingly) that made him feel good too. If that’s not enough, then what is? How can he convince himself that it is real?

He pulls away from Aoba’s neck, fixating his gaze on his face - Aoba’s trying to hide it again, just like last time, bringing another smile to Koujaku’s face.

“Aoba… Let me see your face…”

Aoba doesn’t say anything, he just squeezes his eyes shut and shakes his head.

“Aoba, look at me… please…?” he speaks lowly with a husky voice, not entirely on purpose, but it seemed to work last time, so maybe…

And it works just as he hoped it would. Aoba lets out a soft whine, and turns his head a little, cracking open his eyes.

Koujaku smiles again and kisses his hot cheek. Maybe being able to see Aoba like this, watch him come undone will be enough to convince him that this is real, that it’s Aoba he’s doing this with.

Except it still doesn’t feel like it’s quite enough… Then what should he do? He needs to do something he’s only done with Aoba, something that even if he did it with someone else would make him think of Aoba. When he closes his eyes, that “something” will tell him he’s with Aoba without even needing to open his eyes and see him. He quickly tries to search through his currently hazy mind to try to come up with something that would suffice, but is there really something that would?

His breath suddenly hitches in his throat as he recalls a certain memory (several actually) from long ago.

Maybe that’s what he could do, maybe that will let him know that he really is with Aoba right now.

His gaze travels from Aoba’s face, to his neck, the errant strands of hair surrounding it, to his shoulder, following along his arm, and finally… to the fisted hand resting above his head. He reaches for it without thinking, brushing his fingers against it, hoping it will relax and accept his own hand. Aoba makes a light sound, like he’s a little confused, but Koujaku gets his wish. The hand relaxes, allowing him to grasp onto it, fingers interlocking tightly.

It’s something they would do a lot when they were kids; whenever Aoba was sad or lonely or scared, it was something to soothe Aoba and to assure him of Koujaku’s presence - to let him know he would always be there to protect him. It eventually became a habit, something he would do automatically and it ended up being able to put himself at ease as well.

(It hurt when he had to let go of that little hand - when he had to return to the mainland. But now he never needs to let go again, not if he doesn’t want to.)

And that’s it. This is exactly what he needs. This will let him know Aoba’s the one clinging to him, and panting beneath him. Just in time too - the muscles in his stomach are uncomfortably tense and his own skin feels like it’s on too tightly. But he still needs to hold on, just long enough for Aoba to finish, so he presses his face back into Aoba’s neck and lets out a harsh breath.

“Aoba… Ngh— I love you…”

“M-me t—” but he’s unable to get the words out, his grip on Koujaku’s hand tightens, his entire body tenses up, he’s arching towards him, and the most wonderful sound spills from his lips instead, it’s obvious he’s trying to hold it in, but it is wonderful all the same.

“Kouja—” it’s broken off by a gasp, but doesn’t hearing that do amazing things to him.

Aoba’s body clenches tightly around his cock and a warmth splatters onto his abdomen. As soon as he realizes he doesn’t have to force himself to hold on anymore (which he was only barely doing), he stops restraining himself and his body is now moving on instinct. He drives his cock into the other’s heat harder, pounding into him and making his smaller body move against the futon. Aoba’s body clenches around him again and again and finally forces him into his own climax.

And it hits him hard.

It’s intense, his body feels like it’s overheating, and he can’t breathe. His mind goes completely blank, filled with only white noise and a slight sense of relief he’s finally allowed himself to come after all of his teasing backfired and resulted in an intense and uncomfortable amount of pressure built up in his stomach. But he’s finally able to let it go and it’s such a relief.

When it all ebbs away, he’s totally spent, breathing so hard it hurts his lungs and rubs his throat raw, his arms are shaky and barely able to hold himself up. Before he can inevitably end up collapsing, Aoba wraps his arm around his shoulder and pulls him down on top of him. He allows himself a moment to relax and take in the feeling of Aoba’s skin against his - it’s hot and slick with sweat but, damn, it feels nice… He tries as hard as he can not to squish the smaller man, but he has no idea if he’s succeeding or not, Aoba isn’t complaining or trying to push him away, he’s still holding on to him and his hand with a fairly tight grip, so it must be all right for now.

He nestles his face into Aoba’s neck, nose brushing against the skin there, and Aoba’s body quivers.

“Stop - it tickles…” and his voice is a little raspy and lethargic.

Koujaku presses a soft kiss to the warm skin then, against the strands of blue stuck to it, and pulls away to give him another smile. He’s about to apologize until he sees the expression on Aoba’s face. He’s looking up at him through sleepy, half-lidded eyes, cheeks still flushed, breath escaping through slightly parted lips that are swollen and red - and Koujaku is breathless; he can’t help thinking Aoba looks… beautiful right now. So, instead of saying anything, he leans in to kiss those swollen lips, pressing upon them several light and delicate and loving kisses, and Aoba’s giving back sleepy kisses of his own.

And he can’t help the feeling of pure amazement that wells up inside his chest, spreading a different kind of warmth through his entire body. Aoba accepted him again, and even let him make love to him again. Thinking about that, he can’t help smiling again, pulling away from Aoba’s mouth to press a kiss to his forehead. It’s at that moment that he realizes something.

Right now, he’s happy.

(And it’s only partly because his nose didn’t bleed this time.)