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It's slow today, to start with. Adachi's laid out on the sheets and Kurosawa's rocking his hips to thrust into him gently, unhurriedly, like they have all the time in the world. It feels like they do, on Fridays. It's okay to lose some sleep now with the promise of spending the morning in Kurosawa's nice warm bed.
Kurosawa buries his face in Adachi's neck and licks over the mole he's obsessed with, once, twice. Then he kisses it with a bit of teeth.
It's so like Adachi was imagining earlier. He knows what Kurosawa is about, and Friday is bite night, so he was expecting this. And it's so nice too, especially when Kurosawa's teeth start worrying at his skin with more purpose.
Okay, so maybe Adachi is also all about bite night, and maybe he's been fantasizing about this for a few days. That's allowed. But the thing about his fantasies is that something else has crept into them lately, something Adachi can't see himself doing in real life without bursting into flame out of embarrassment.
But this really feels so much like his daydreams, especially when he lets his eyes slip shut and tilts his head, and Kurosawa hums approval against his flushed skin. Kurosawa scrapes his teeth gently over Adachi's neck, and Adachi's lips fall open on a pleased sigh. And then it just slips out, like it did in his fantasy, a mumbled "Mmnnn, Yuichi…"
And Kurosawa freezes.
Oh no. Oh no oh no oh no. Adachi's eyes shoot open, so he can see Kurosawa slowly raise his head, similarly wide-eyed.
"Did you just…?"
"Nope," Adachi blurts out, but it must be totally unconvincing, especially with how it feels like his face is on fire.
In a dirty move, Kurosawa makes puppy eyes at him. "Say it again."
"Noooo." Adachi turns his head, pressing his burning cheek to the pillow.
Kurosawa swoops in to kiss all over Adachi's cheek, his jawline, wherever he can reach. He starts moving his hips again, driving into Adachi with a little more force now. Adachi clutches at Kurosawa and makes embarrassed dying noises, even as his toes curl a bit at the pleasure.
And then Kurosawa moves his mouth close to Adachi's ear. His breath is warm on Adachi's skin when he says, his voice low, "Please say it… or I will."
Oh god, oh no, if Kurosawa starts calling him Kiyoshi right now, Adachi will just perish. So he opens his mouth and tries. "Ah — um…"
Kurosawa hums in encouragement, his lips back on Adachi's neck, dragging wetly over the skin.
Adachi squeezes his eyes shut. "Yu… Yuichi…"
With a little growl, Kurosawa presses his teeth where Adachi's neck meets his shoulder — still pretty gently, but enough to draw a moan out of Adachi. But it comes out as his default "Aah, mm, Kurosawa," and Kurosawa eases off.
He just licks over Adachi's skin, clearly waiting for something else. Ugh, of course he will not let this go now, and he's a horrible tease. He's slowed down his thrusts again, and the languid drag of his cock inside is unbearable now that Adachi's all wound up.
There's only so much of that Adachi can be expected to take. He slides his hand up Kurosawa's back to bury his fingers in Kurosawa's hair and pull him closer.
He says a quiet "Come on… Yuichi," and gasps when Kurosawa snaps his hips and bites down.
*
The next morning finds Adachi wrapped in Kurosawa's blankets like a dumpling. He lives here now and he's never coming out again to face the reality of his shamelessness.
He took a look at his shoulders after waking up and gingerly brushed his fingers over his neck, and spent about a minute feeling a pleased warmth settle over him like a morning afterglow. And then reason kicked in, and he buried himself in the bedding with an anguished whine.
So much for the wisdom of leaving the biting for Friday. There's no way some of those bite marks are fading before he needs to go to work again. And that's not even mentioning the love bites in other places, though at least those should be easy to hide.
But all of that would be fine — good, even — if not for the fact that every mark is a reminder of him moaning Kurosawa's first name. God, he got so loud with it too, especially towards the end of the second round.
To be fair, he had good reasons. He almost gets distracted from his shameful misery by the memory of Kurosawa's teeth sinking into the curve of his ass as he crooked his fingers inside Adachi — but the way Adachi's cries of "Yuichi!" echoed in the bedroom, aaah, horrible. He rolls himself into another layer of blankets.
The bed dips as Kurosawa, apparently returned from the kitchen, sits down next to him and puts his hand more or less on Adachi's shoulder. "Adachi," he says, clearly amused, "will you come out?"
"No," Adachi grumbles. So what if he sounds petulant? It's all Kurosawa's fault anyway, for turning Adachi into, into — some kind of shameless wanton creature.
"Not even for breakfast?"
…okay, a Kurosawa-style breakfast sounds tempting. Adachi's stomach takes its turn to grumble. But he's not ready to give in without some more incentive. "Is there…?"
"Tamagoyaki? Of course."
Ugh, fine, if Kurosawa's going to play dirty. Adachi wriggles in his blanket roll until half of his head pokes out, and squints against the brightness of the morning and Kurosawa's brilliant smile.
"Good morning, Kiyoshi." Kurosawa's eyes crinkle as he beams at Adachi. He's way too blinding for such an early hour, but Adachi's pretty much used to it by now.
"Morning," he replies quietly. In the light of day, hearing his first name from Kurosawa is, well. It's nice, even if it makes his cheeks color some more.
Kurosawa may not look like he got mauled by a wild animal, but there are a few bite marks here and there, and, if Adachi says so himself, a pretty impressive hickey low on his neck. He's wearing a t-shirt with a stretched-out collar, no doubt to better show them off. It's a good reminder that no matter how shameless Adachi gets, he can always count on Kurosawa to be worse.
He squirms with more feeling and manages to sit up a bit. When the blanket slips down his shoulders, Kurosawa sucks in a breath, his eyes growing dark. But it quickly melts into a more worried expression. "Does it hurt?"
"A bit." Now that he's moving around, he can definitely feel some of the marks. He's probably still going to feel them while sitting in his office chair on Monday, and that's… certainly a thought.
He ducks his head and mutters, "But it's not… bad."
Kurosawa gives an mhmm that sounds all too calculating, and strokes his hand over Adachi's thigh through the blankets. "My poor Kiyoshi. Should I make up for it?"
"Aah, no, you don't need to." Not if Adachi's meant to get out of bed before noon. And not that he's philosophically opposed to Kurosawa making amends, but his stomach is really into the tamagoyaki idea. It won't do to let Kurosawa turn him on before breakfast.
"It's no trouble." The wicked amusement in Kurosawa's voice unfortunately doesn't make him any less sexy. His hand creeps higher up Adachi's thigh. "I should take responsibility."
Adachi renews his fight with the bedding, suddenly feeling hot under all the blankets. He yanks his arm out and reaches for Kurosawa, determined to make him stop talking before Adachi's dick overrules his stomach.
"I'll kiss it better," Kurosawa's saying even as Adachi's hand curls in his loose collar, "just tell me where it —"
He's still trying to talk when their lips meet. It's unbelievable that Adachi's the only one who knows Kurosawa for the menace he is.
"Later," Adachi mumbles against his mouth.
With a pleased hum, Kurosawa finally relents and lets Adachi shut him up with a kiss.