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Kokichi hated nothing more than boring people. Average nobodies living their average nobody life. As a result, he didn't really have any friends, nobody ever really catching his interest. Well, nobody except one.
Rubbing the sleep out of his eyes, he slurped into the kitchen, graced by the presence of his roommate Rantaro Amami. And boy, Rantaro was the very opposite of average.
Everything about Rantaro's very being fascinated Kokichi, his kind smile, his keen emerald eyes, his perfectly styled hair that never looked messy, not even when he was fresh out of bed or damp out of the shower.
Kokichi yawned, while Rantaro hunched over his laptop, entranced in god knows what. He was basically a superstar. Kokichi was sure there wasn't a single thing Rantaro did not excel at, be it sports, his college classes or a karaoke session at the local bar.
People flocked to him, swooned over him, and Kokichi would lie if he said he wasn't crushing hard on him too.
"You're still here?", he mumbled, as he dug cereal out of the cupboard. Rantaro flinched, obviously unaware of his presence and promptly closed the laptop, eying the clock. "Shit, I'm gonna be late", he muttered and dashed into his room. In mere five minutes, Rantaro was styled down to perfection, dressed, his bag slung over his shoulder.
Kokichi watched him in awe, Rantaro who was never out of breath despite moving at the speed of light. "Have a good day, Ouma-kun", he smiled at him, and Kokichi felt his heart flutter. "Don't you dare go cheating on me, Amami-tan", he cooed, earning himself a chuckle before Rantaro disappeared out the door.
Kokichi slumped into the chair, poured milk over his cereal and dug the spoon through his breakfast, lost in thought.
Rantaro was an enigma to him, his outgoing personality entrancing him without ever disclosing too much. He didn't know a whole lot about him.
He was ridiculously talented, of course, and he liked kiwi-mango shampoo of a brand Kokichi could buy a week's worth of groceries out of that price tag.
The countless silver rings on his fingers and ears, the necklaces around his swan like neck, his subtle make up that left his porcelain face without any blemish.
Milk ran down his throat as something else caught his attention. Rantaro's laptop, on the desk, forgotten by the sudden departure. The green haired boy was usually very thorough, never leaving his things laying around.
Morbid curiosity seeped into Kokichi's bones, a little horrified by his own action, as his fingers slowly opened the laptop.
The screen lit up to the blank page of the browser. Guilt bubbled in his chest as he inched closer, but he just needed to know. Needed to find something, a curtsy in that perfect being that Rantaro was.
And before his mind could even process what he was doing, he dug through Rantaro's browser history.
Most things were typical - solutions for complex formulas, mostly math and physics, because he knew Rantaro wanted to be a teacher or tutor at some point, survival tips and cooking recipes, the latter which Rantaro of course excelled at too. But one thing stood out.
A shady site called "Pictures for Pleasure". The tab was bookmarked. Greeted by the possibility of uncovering a dirty secret of his beloved Amami, Kokichi clicked on the link and was met by a flashy site filled with boys.
In fact, only boys.
He stared at the screen, dumbfounded.
Rantaro was the embodiment of heterosexuality, barely ever missing a day of a girl confessing to him, sending him love letters or gifting him sweets.
Maybe it's what Kokichi would like to believe to play down his one sided crush on his attractive roommate, reminding himself he never stood a chance. Perhaps Rantaro was testing the waters.
When he clicked onto the login window, the auto fill suggested him a username prompt.
'PoisonIvy222'. Sappy, very uncharacteristic but also very Rantaro.
Kokichi hummed, contemplating if he should try to figure out his password but ultimately closing the laptop, finishing his breakfast and retreating into his room.
The thought lingered in his head, made him restless until eventually, he fished out his phone, finding himself on the very same website again. He signed up with the least info necessary, naming himself a bland 'Observer123' and opened the search bar.
User profiles were restricted to registered users only, a privacy measurement that surprised him given the nature of the site.
His search was met by one result.
The person on the profile picture was wearing a black face mask, but he'd recognize that shining emerald hair and deep, gorgeous eyes anywhere, and even if his face was hidden behind cloth, Kokichi could see the smile behind it that crinkled at his eyes.
He clicked onto the profile, staring at it for a solid minute. There was a big order button right next to his picture, first timers 2 for 1 discount ;) written in italics as order details.
Kokichi chewed on his lip, suddenly feeling very intrusive to his friend's private life. He turned off his phone and threw himself onto his bed, back bounced into the mattress, covering his eyes with his arms while a nervous tickle gnawed inside his stomach.
His curiosity eventually got the better of him and he unlocked his phone again, his screen lit up and graced him with the big blue order button again. "Shit", he mumbled, the irresistible urge to dig in a little deeper, find out just a little more about the object of his affection. It was cheap.
Just this once. No harm done, right?
There were a lot of customization options for returning buyers, he could choose gender, preferred pronouns as well as how he'd like to be addressed. With a devious grin, he put 'Master' into the box and continued.
The site offered an online currency transfer option to keep the buyer anonymous, and Kokichi quickly checked all the options before he was prompted with his order confirmation.
Thanks for choosing me!, a pre-made text popped up with two files attached.
His stomach felt light and his heartbeat quickened as he opened the first file. He was met by his beloved Amami, sitting on a chair, his arms folded over the back rest, legs spread to each side. A sheepish smile on his perfect face, small fake vampire fangs sticking out of his slightly parted lips.
There was nothing inheritly erotic about the picture, yet it almost drove him insane. He felt like staring at his beloved in a very exposed state, raw and unguarded, for Kokichi to finally pick apart and analyze. A lose thread at the seams of paradise, for him to pull at, unraveling him.
He closed the file and opened the second one. He choked back a gasp, clutching his phone tighter. The second picture was a lot more suggestive, albeit not because of nudity. Rantaro was laying on a very familiar leather sofa, one of his legs stretched out, the other clutched to his chest. His shirt was messy, revealing just a little bit of skin, but his eyes, a deep alluring gaze of lust and tease.
Kokichi wiped his face, drool escaped his mouth and his cheeks burned up. Caught up staring holes into the picture, he heard the front door swing open and jolted, the phone almost jumped out of his hands and he could barely avoid it dropping to the floor.
A knock at his door, and Kokichi quickly ran a hand through his hair, hoping he didn't look beet red in the face when he buried his phone in his covers and tried to casually walk out of his room.
Rantaro always brought take out home on his lunch break, and Kokichi tried to act natural while wondering how Rantaro kept his perfect composure while selling pictures of himself online.
He raised an eyebrow upon seeing Kokichi, sitting down on his chair. "Are you alright?", he asked, his eyes faintly lingering on his laptop, a brief crumble in his posture, a glimmer of uneasiness, before he offered Kokichi his signature smile.
"Yeah, sure. Just roasted some kids online, the usual!", he lied, hoping he sounded as convincing as his usual self.
Rantaro scrutinized him for another excruciating long moment, before shrugging, passing him a steaming plastic container. Rice curry with chicken, his favorite.
He smiled, plopped down onto the chair next to him and broke apart his chopsticks. "You really know how to toy with my heart, huh?", he smirked while blowing against the rice in his sticks.
Rantaro turned to look at him, his chin rested on his hand, smile still in place. "Anything for my favorite roommate", he said in that deep, raspy voice of his that made the blood rush in Kokichi's ears, wishing he could bury himself into those lips.
They finished the meal and Rantaro went on his way again, and Kokichi sighed deeply as his heart was hammering in his throat. He still felt guilty about his breach of privacy, and probably also Rantaro's trust, but he hated to admit that the loot was worth it.
He got dressed for his evening class and left the apartment, but safe to say he didn't listen to a single thing in his lectures, thoughts swirling around those green eyes and that gorgeous face he wanted to kiss more than anything.
The following night, he found himself back on his newfound treasure website, greeted by an unread message.
Would my Master like a treat on the house? ;)
Kokichi stared at the screen, trying to grasp a coherent thought. God, he was good at this too. Of course, it was Rantaro. A little more and he could turn water into wine.
Don't disappoint me, he responded and turned off his phone. Whatever possessed him wasn't getting forced back now, the cage to tame his inner animal suddenly way too small.
He wanted to test how far he could go. Poke at the very corners of his beloved's secret double life. No wonder Rantaro was stupidly rich.
He paused under a sudden sting of jealousy. He was just an anonymous customer, one of many, probably. He quickly shook his head. It wasn't like Rantaro was sleeping around. Or did he? He threw the sheets over his head, kicking his legs, unsatisfied. It bothered him a little too much.
Over the course of the following days, he kept ordering one time pictures and made stupid requests, drunk on his new found power.
Asked him to pose with a raw egg between his teeth, biting into a citrus fruit, or licking the length of a banana. Nothing indecent, but always slightly suggestive, always with a ever growing desire to inch closer a little more, go a little further.
And while he couldn't deny his growing arousal over the collection of his self-crafted shrine of posed pictures, he forbid himself from touching himself over any of them. He could never look Rantaro in the eye again, and it was already hard enough like this.
How he offered him that kindhearted smile while Kokichi had him captured on his phone with lust-dazed gazes in awkward positions.
It was like an addiction. And he craved more, unearthing every single inch of that body hidden behind carefully picked out hoodies and jeans.
Almost two weeks passed and Kokichi grew frustrated, the initial dizziness of forcing Rantaro into posing for his entertainment growing stale. He wanted more.
His finger lingered over a different option, a four picture pack with an NSFW tag attached, but with a hefty price increase at that. Kokichi chewed on his lip, contemplating if he could make a deal with his conscience that this wasn't sick or weird.
Maybe it was. But he was in too deep to stop now.
He ordered with instructions and tossed his phone under his pillow, hurrying out to catch his evening class.
Kokichi stared at his phone, order confirmation present on his screen, hesitant to open the attached files. His logical thinking resisted, didn't want him to expose his friend to his ever growing desires. But it was already too late for that. He had paid, so the crime had been committed.
He opened the first file and gaped. Rantaro Amami, him and his perfect body in the shower, back turned to the camera.
Steam hugged against his wet skin, his green hair darkened by the water as his hands traced through his curly strands, his eyes closed and head leaned back. Undeniable though was the fact that he had clear sight of his perfectly formed ass.
When he requested him to pose in the shower he hadn't even dreamed of getting his entire money's worth out of that like this.
His heart pounded violently in his chest, the feeling of arousal suddenly overwhelming, mixed with his stubborn romantic feelings towards his roommate that had no idea who he sent those pictures to.
Guilt twisted his gut yet again, deflated the pressure below the waistband of his boxers. He screwed his eyes shut and shook his head so hard it made him dizzy. He turned the phone off and hurried to the bathroom without checking the other files or he felt like he would combust.
He ran an ice cold shower, suddenly awfully aware that this was the very same shower Rantaro had taken that picture in.
There he stood now, in the middle of the night, freezing under the ice cold water with a painful erection he was too ashamed to acknowledge.
This was wrong. He couldn't continue. Yeah. He'd just stop. He could stop anytime after all. Or so he thought.
The very next morning, he avoided meeting Rantaro before his classes, before checking out the other pictures.
One was him in the bathtub, legs crossed over the edge, bubbles in his hair, his chin rested on the side of the tub, his slender hand holding him into place, his index finger curled into a 'come here' motion with that lavish grin again.
Kokichi groaned and inhaled sharply. He definitely got more than he bargained for.
The next picture wasn't any better, or rather was a lot better - his beloved Amami dressed in nothing but an apron, bent over their kitchen chair. Kokichi blinked slowly.
Great. Now he definitely could never look at him again without imagining him leaned over the smooth surface of wood, a rag in hand pretending to clean.
He felt fuzzy as he forced himself to open the last image, his heart slowly having enough, he felt like he was about to faint and bit down into his hand.
The last picture was also in that kitchen chair, Rantaro leaned his body stretched all across the seat, the apron ruffled enough to catch a gaze of the tip of his member underneath.
Kokichi muffled a moan and quickly turned off the phone. "Shit", he hissed and slapped himself into the face, "Shit shit shit...."
He had gone too far. He knew it.
This wasn't okay anymore. Heck, it never had been to begin with. And yet his chest painfully squeezed, not just from lust but also those bottled up feelings he could never lay open.
The neglected erection in his pants twitched, and he gave in, quickly slipping his hand below the cloth. It didn't take him long to come and it didn't feel good, and while cleaning himself up he felt utterly ashamed of himself.
He had to stop. He really intended to. But Rantaro was just too good at his game.
Every so often, he would offer him so called treats, free of charge, probably to reel customers back in but it worked.
The first time it was an innocent picture of him in his bed, hair in his face, a soft smile on his face. The second time it was a picture of him sitting in front of his room's door, fully clothed but his legs spread, a hand rested between them and slightly leaned forward, a knowing smile on his features.
It was maddening.
When Kokichi banned his delusions out of his mind for another two days, he got another message.
Is my master not feeling alright?
He cringed. Sometimes he wished the ground would swallow him whole.
He ignored the text but was reminded of it roughly another hour later by a sad smiley. Not just that. There was an image attached.
"Don't do it", he mumbled, thinking back and worth before eventually crumbling to sheer curiosity again. The picture was dim, Rantaro kneeled over the camera, his head tilted in a worried frown, sure as hell shirtless.
Kokichi sighed and closed his eyes. He was deep in shit, he knew that. And there was a far more pressing, far more severe issue at hand that unfolded in front of him the very next morning.
Sleep deprived, he stumbled into the kitchen to be greeted by Rantaro leaned back against the kitchen table. His arms crossed in front of his chest, a stern expression on his face that caught Kokichi dead in his tracks.
No no, act natural, he thought to himself. There was no way he found out.
"Ouma-kun", Rantaro's raspy voice rang inside his head, made him dizzy again, "We need to talk." Kokichi raised an eyebrow, acting unfazed. "What? You're finally gonna confess your undying love to me? Thought you'd never ask."
Good, he kept his mask on. So good so far.
"This isn't funny. Sit down."
Ouch. Rantaro had his 'no room for argument' persona on. He wasn't sure if that was bad. His heart started racing as he sat down on the chair, Rantaro's eyes didn't leave him for a second.
"You're holing up in your room almost all day. I barely see you anymore, do you even go out besides classes? You take ice showers in the middle of the night." His tone was flat and monotonous. "On top of that, your cupboard and your side of the fridge are empty, and have been for the past few days. What's going on with you?"
Shit.
Kokichi felt the edges of his vision blur faintly black. "Jeez, stalker much? Don't you have any hobbies?", he reeled back, trying to compose himself.
Rantaro swung himself off the table, kneeled down in front of him and took his hands into his own. Now Kokichi positively started seeing stars. "Do you have a problem?", he asked, his voice soft and warm now, it made Kokichi tremble and shiver. He shook his head, but he felt the threat of tears sting his eyes, so close to spill out his heinous act. "Are you hooked on something? You know you can talk to me. I want to help you."
He had him absolutely cornered.
His eyes were so sweet, so deep with understanding, Kokichi almost choked. "No", he gave back, almost barked and pushed back into the chair, trying to escape his grip, his stupidly soft skin that felt like velvet. Rantaro didn't let up. "Ouma-kun, I'm not letting you off the hook like that. Are you broke?"
Busted.
"Maybe", he mumbled, staring to the ground. Rantaro's hand found his cheek and Kokichi almost screamed out, frantically drawing back to no avail. "Tell me what's wrong. Please?"
No way.
No way in hell he could tell him what he had done. Rantaro would hate him. He'd never talk to him again. He'd never see that kind smile and gentle eyes directed his way ever again. Not that he even deserved that anymore. Maybe he'd move out entirely.
No matter how hard he fought, his tears found their way out of his violet eyes, crashing down on him with his conflicting emotions towards the boy in front of him.
He sobbed, rattled and shook, his entire body swiveled in his chair and he found himself wrapped in Rantaro's arms, felt the warmth of his body against his own, felt his heartbeat at his chest.
"It's okay", he hushed, "It's okay. I'm here. It's gonna be okay."
Nothing was okay. He wanted to scream and punch him, tell him to fuck off and leave him alone. No, that was a lie. He wanted nothing more than stay like this and pretend everything was going to be fine.
His mind raced trying to weasel a way out of this predicament finding no closure. Rantaro definitely missed his class because of him. His perfect record ruined because of his creepy roommate. Maybe he should just pack his things and run away. Jump off a bridge while he was at it.
"Ouma-kun", Rantaro ripped him out of his self destructive thoughts, "If you don't want to tell me right now, that's fine. But I'm not leaving you alone today. Alright?" The guilt inside his heart was suffocating. He couldn't bring out a word, while Rantaro unwrapped himself and dug out his phone, called in sick for today and also for Kokichi.
He was so kind. His gut churned and he heaved on his empty stomach. It was getting worse by the minute. Quicksand that wanted to bury him with every shaking step he took forward.
"I'm going to make us some tea", he heard Rantaro's voice somewhere in the back of his head, drowned out by his thundering heart and the darkness cornering him, on the verge of passing out.
He caught sight of Rantaro tapping away on his phone, and a new void opened up in front of his very eyes, a dread far more deadly than the quicksand.
Kokichi could almost time it inside his head. The second Rantaro hit send, his phone chimed. The kitchen fell into silence, Kokichi didn't dare to as much as breathe.
He blinked, slowly, as he watched Rantaro slowly turn his head towards him. Against his better judgment to play it off cool and act it off as a coincidence, he jumped out of the chair and bolted to his room. The door slammed shut behind him and he clicked the key in the lock, sliding to the ground frantically sobbing.
Now he's done it. It was over. Rantaro wasn't that dumb. He blew it. It took a few seconds that felt like hours before he heard a knock. "Ouma-kun, please open the door."
There was no anger in his voice, no accusation, but it was also Rantaro, perfect composed Rantaro, the king of every damn fucking situation on this planet. Kokichi pressed his hands onto his ears, shaking his head violently.
This was a nightmare. All because he couldn't keep himself and his stupid crush on his roommate in check. "Kokichi, come on. Let's talk."
Ouch. His given name in Rantaro's mouth shot nails through his spine. He was panting desperately now, hyperventilating, his vision blurred and he heard a thud, a searing pain in his head as he realized he faceplanted right into the wodden floor.
He rolled himself up to a ball, hoped something would drop from the ceiling and put him out.
The lock on his door clicked. Sure. Rantaro had a spare key. It opened slowly, and he braced for the worst, but he just felt gentle hands touching his face, untangling him and pulling him back into a hug.
He didn't say anything, just held him, rubbed against his sides until Kokichi's vision cleared again, his breathing slowly evened.
"That's a little embarrassing", Rantaro eventually said, chuckling, as if they accidentally mixed up their school bags. Kokichi turned to look up at him, his face illuminated by the sun rays falling through his window, the edges shining in the perfect shape of his face.
Everything about him was breathtaking, everything about him he craved so much it made him sick to his very core. Rantaro looked at him, his smile fixed in place yet not forced. "You may correct me if I am wrong", he continued after a pause, and Kokichi screwed his eyes shut.
Rantaro hummed. The room fell back into silence, and Kokichi didn't dare to open his eyes. "Why did you think you need to buy me?"
He expected a lot, but not that. He expected him to be angry or disgusted, but he almost sounded more offended than anything.
His eyes fluttered open, Rantaro was staring at the window now. "It's-It's not what you think-", he stammered out, sounding extremely pathetic in his own ears. Rantaro tilted his head, green locks dancing around his face, as he looked down to Kokichi again. "And here I thought you were the one who'd speak his mind."
His cheeks were rosy now, blushing slightly and very visible, considering he wasn't wearing any make up. "Well, you kinda were", he sighed, "Maybe I'm dense. I didn't take you serious." He readjusted under Kokichi, folding his legs under him so Kokichi sank into his lap. "Is there something you'd want to tell me?"
Kokichi laid there, starstruck, wrapped into Rantaro's arms, his gaze fixed on him and him alone. His mouth opened and closed, too scared to let the words roll off his tongue.
But Rantaro nodded. Maybe he could read his mind. A skill he wouldn't put past him.
"You're broke because you spent it all on me, then?" There was a faint glimmer in his eyes, something akin to amusement, a fondness, flattery. Kokichi didn't have it in him to lie and nodded weakly. "You could have had that all for free if you asked, jeez. And I thought you didn't like me like that."
"What?"
His voice came out high pitched and squeaky, earning him one of his beautiful melodic chuckles. "Maybe you are the one who is dense", he mused, watched his face derail in utter confusion.
"Why aren't you mad?", he pressed through clenched teeth. Rantaro shrugged. "Why aren't you? I'd be fuming if my crush slutted himself out for money like that." Kokichi's eyes went wide, he gasped, momentarily forgetting how to breathe.
What a filthy word out of his prestine, spotless mouth. It made Kokichi's hair stand on end, tingled on his neck.
Suddenly Rantaro had that ludicrous expression on his face again, the flutter of half closed eyelashes, the inviting smile on slightly parted lips Kokichi had stared at on those pictures night and night again.
It was even more mesmerizing in person, and he gaped, dumbstruck by the sheer beauty of it. "Just instruct me", he said, a slight tease in his voice, "Tell me what you want."
"I want you", he whispered, barely audible, "Shit. I'm so fucking in love with you it's driving me insane."
There was a pause, a furrow in his brows that could be interpreted as confusion, uncertainty. Rantaro's lips moved slightly, but no words formed, the tip of his tongue brushing past the gap briefly. Rantaro fucking Amami, being speechless.
Kokichi studied his face, that foreign expression of confusion creeping over his features, even though he was sure Rantaro had been confessed to at least a thousand times before.
Rantaro, a natural at anything, a master of everything. A chuckle tickled his throat, and Rantaro faintly shook his head, smiling again. "Well? I'm booked out for you today, so what do you want to do?"
Kokichi didn't dare to drift into fantasies, too scared he was dreaming after all. "I'm-" He breathed in sharply, as Rantaro lifted him up, closed the gap between them and kissed him, soft lips pressed against his mouth, made him freeze up entirely.
A shaky breath brushed over his skin, teeth gently tugged his lower lip, Rantaro's chest pressed onto his riddled with deep, fast breaths. He snapped out of his trance, overcome by desire, the feelings he had buried finally unearthed.
He grasped into Rantaro's striped sweater, pulling him even closer, lunging into him like an animal overcome by its primal instinct. Their teeth collided and Kokichi paused, collected himself before he dove back in, passionately now, although shy with inexperience.
"Was that alright?", Rantaro asked, as their lips parted with a soft plop and a thin line of saliva ripping between them, Kokichi was panting now, butterflies ravaged his insides. Breathless, he nodded, saviouring every second of the moment.
"Do you want more?", he continued, and Kokichi trembled as he felt his slender hand brush against the back of his neck, tracing through his purple spikes. He nodded again, unable to form words.
All he saw and felt were those pools of deep green eyes, completely enchanting him, drowning him within their depths.
His body felt light, like he was flying before he realized Rantaro had lifted him up, his back pressed into his mattress as the object of his deepest, wildest fantasies towered over him, undressed him just with his gaze.
Rantaro leaned over him, kissed his neck and traced over his collarbone, before drawing back, skillfully pulling his sweater over his head. Kokichi felt exposed and vulnerable now, while he watched the green haired boy slip out of his hoodie in a swift motion.
Was there anything he wasn't godly at?
Rantaro's eyes were deep with lust now, gone the perfect unfaltering expression of coolness, making space for something far more beautiful.
Those hungry eyes, pointed at him and him alone. With as much as a single tug, Rantaro had torn down his pants along with his boxers all in one, exposing his throbbing erection, leaking precum already.
His face burnt up in embarrassment, and he tried to hide himself behind his hands but Rantaro gently grabbed his wrists, moved them out of the way, making his head swirl with every touch of skin against skin. "No need to hide", he purred, soothing, his voice that of an angel, "Relax."
Kokichi felt fingers on his cheek, tracing over his face to his lips, slowly pushing into his mouth and he stifled a moan. Another finger joined and he sucked slightly, his breath quick and erratic now under the explosion of unrestrained inexperienced horniness.
Slick and wet, Rantaro retracted his hand, and he felt the very same fingers tracing over his rear entrance, unwillingly tensing under the sensation.
Rantaro paused, and panic bubbled in his chest, trying to unclench his tense muscles. "It's okay", he hushed, "Don't force it. We have time."
His understanding face warmed his heart, made him feel so secure he sighed deeply, shivering, relaxing into the softness of his mattress. Rantaro waited patiently, until his tension faded, a finger slipped into him.
The intrusion was foreign, not entirely unpleasant but still odd. He felt the finger move gently, thrusting into him until he found an even pace, the uneasiness eventually faded too, made space for a tingly tickle of pleasure.
Another finger slipped into him, made him gasp, and Rantaro quickened his movement. Kokichi dug his fingers into the bed, another moan escaped his lips he didn't bother to hold back this time, and the fingers working him open, widening his hole.
Tears stung his eyes under the sudden sensation, replaced yet again by pulsating pleasure and the ecstasy rushing through his body. His partner continued another few thrusts, before he pulled his fingers out, leaving Kokichi's hips twitch helplessly under the loss of stimulation.
Rantaro leaned over him again, leaned in close, locked their lips as his tongue slipped through parted lips. They fought briefly, Kokichi's head pounded clouded by the overwhelming affection for the person he loved more than anything.
He felt Rantaro lower himself onto him, the head of his member brushing against his rear before entering, his clothes already discarded somewhere on the floor.
He was slow, careful, holding himself in check while making sure he didn't hurt him. Tears stung his eyes again, ran over his face, he breathed in shakingly. The tension faded again, allowing Rantaro in, and he groaned, his head jerked, eyes rolled back into his head.
He felt so full, positively filled to the brim with that absolute perfection called Rantaro Amami, his mind disconnected from any coherent thought as he started to thrust into him, still careful, still ever so gentle.
He heard Rantaro's ragged breath at his ear, his low grunting noises as he slowly picked up the pace, his body pinned between his knees, working him down to his core.
"I love you too", he husked buried in a stifled moan, and Kokichi's heart skipped at least two beats.
Rantaro's movements deepened, and Kokichi almost screamed as he hit his most sensitive spot, earning himself a content smile on those slightly swollen lips, and he whined. His back arched, his hips jolted, desperate for friction, desperate to feel him more.
Maybe he had fantasized about this, more than he'd like to admit, but nothing could have ever gotten close to the real thing. His imagination wasn't enough to do Rantaro justice.
His thrusts had gotten wilder, pushing deeper, hitting his spot again and again until Kokichi felt the world disappear in front of his eyes, moaning and gasping, and with a final push, hot liquid scooted over his bare stomach, as Rantaro came inside him filling him up, panting frantically.
He wasn't very vocal, but his forehead was drenched in sweat, his skin flushed deep red, as he sunk onto Kokichi, both trying to catch their breath.
Kokichi found himself tracing his fingers over Rantaro's back, linger on the outline of his shoulders, before brushing through his hair.
The scent of that stupidly expensive shampoo lulled him in, and he closed his eyes, wishing he could freeze this moment. Rantaro pulled out, rolled off him next to him into the sheets, breath still uneven.
"Was that to your liking?", he asked, tone slightly teasing again, but also with a hint of worry. He smiled, rolling to his side, hugging to his arm, his head rested against Rantaro's shoulder.
"Yes, very", he managed to blurt out, slightly embarrassed how corny that sounded, but Rantaro didn't seem to mind. He watched as green eyes stared at the ceiling, twitched left and right as if he was reading a book.
When those eyes turned to grace him again, they were so full of affection that tears spontaneously ran over his face again.
Rantaro reached his free arm over, wiping the tears off, before leaning in yet again, pressing a gentle kiss onto the bridge of his nose. "No more secrets", he murmured, and Kokichi suddenly felt very embarrassed.
Rantaro chuckled, tugged his face into his shoulder. "Why are you doing that, anyways?", he eventually dared to ask, a hint of jealousy prominent, because he wanted his Amami to himself, to his eyes only. Rantaro pursed his lips in amusement. "Hmm, I wonder. Maybe I wanted to be caught?"
Kokichi wasn't sure if that was a lie or not, but he didn't press, enjoying their shared company too much to care. They stayed like that for a while, until Kokichi's stomach growled in protest. Right. He hadn't eaten anything all day.
Rantaro carefully helped him clean up the remains of their adventure, before disappearing into the kitchen. Kokichi laid there, sprawled out in his bed, high on cloud nine.
Something itched in the back of his mind, and he shot up, searching around the room for his clothes. He dug the phone out of his pants, unlocking the screen.
One unread message. He clicked on the blue letter symbol, a single word inside the chat box.
Gotcha ;)