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Izuki couldn’t have explained how he and Takao had ended up such close friends, it just sort of… happened one day. They’d met only a few times briefly before bumping into each other in a small store soon after the Winter Cup, and in the end they spent so long talking, and Takao had laughed so much and so loud, that they were chased from the store by the owner brandishing an old mop. Before letting him go home, Takao had insisted on swapping numbers, promising to be in touch in the future. Izuki had expected it was nothing but politeness at the time – that they’d likely rarely speak more than they already had – but somehow they’d reached the point where Izuki wondered how they hadn’t been friends already all this time. They’d hardly spent much time apart outside of school in the past year.
Izuki glared at the inside of the fridge, searching for the can of soda that he knew he wouldn’t find. Takao’s little sister wasn’t allowed soda, but she’d drink it if she found it there, so Takao’s mom never let them keep them in the fridge where she could find them. But Suzume wasn’t home today, and neither was their mom or dad. They were out visiting Takao’s grandmother overnight, leaving Takao and Izuki to mind the house.
“You get lost in there, Shun-chan?” Takao’s voice yelled out from the other room. “Bring me one too if you find your way back.”
“Yeah,” he called back, rolling his eyes.
Sighing quietly, he moved to the other side of the kitchen and opened the cupboard where the soda was hidden, taking two cans and putting another two in the fridge for later. He flicked off the kitchen light as he left, submerging himself in almost total darkness while he crossed the hall with the blown bulb to get to the closed living room door. He didn’t need any special eagle eye vision to know when to lift his leg higher as he stepped to avoid tripping himself up on the toy box that always seemed to end up there instead of up in her room where it was supposed to be. He reminded himself that they should really clean up before Takao’s parents got home tomorrow, though she’d only fuss if she found out he’d helped instead of making Takao do it. Maybe he’d stand aside and just watch Takao work for a bit – boss him about a little and pretend he was going to do nothing before actually helping, just to wind him up a bit.
Takao sat up a little in his seat in the middle of the sofa when Izuki walked into the room and held his hand out wordlessly for a soda, his mouth too full of pizza to speak. Izuki sat on the other side of the sofa, picking up a slice of pizza as he passed the box on the floor and handed the can over.
“Did I miss anything good?” He asked, nodding his head very slightly in direction of the television where the old black and white movie played. He was pretty sure the movie description had said ‘werewolf’, but so far it was more of a wherewolf; the movie was all screams and no fangs and they were more than half way through already, and the picture was so dark they could barely even figure out what was happening half the time anyway.
“Yeah,” Takao nodded seriously after loudly swallowing a mouthful of pizza. “It’s been great. You missed an awesome shot of the werewolf’s fingers about a minute back. And maybe forty or fifty wasted bottles of ketchup.”
“Damn,” he said blankly, taking a drink of soda. He tried putting his feet up on the sofa, but didn’t have enough space and ended up prodding at Takao’s leg with his toes. “Move over or I’m putting my legs over you anyway.”
“Fine.” He grabbed one of Izuki’s legs and pulled it over his lap, resting his arms on it, and leaned forward to make space for the other behind him. Not knowing how else to respond to that, Izuki stretched out his other leg where he was obviously expected to put it and looked away, avoiding looking at Takao, who sat back comfortably and continued talking, completely oblivious. “They’ve shown the same clip of the moon three times. The clouds are exactly the same. And it’s obviously the boyfriend, but she still hasn’t realised.”
“You mean, she’s not a-were yet?”
Takao laughed and Izuki couldn’t help looking back at him again. He opened his can, but pulled back the moment it touched his lips, frowning.
“It’s warm,” he complained, looking accusingly at Izuki, as though it was him who’d forgotten to put them in the fridge.
“Yeah,” he returned the look, staring back at him, trying to not be too aware of the space Takao took between his legs. “They are. Soda-pressing.”
A moment or two passed, someone screamed on the tv, and Takao finally realised and turned back to look at the screen. “Oh.”
Not taking the time to care that his mild irritation at Takao not laughing at his joke was a little petty – no one else ever laughed, but then maybe that was why it bothered him – Izuki leaned over, pressing the side of his can to Takao’s bare knee just below the bottom of his shorts. Takao jumped, pulling his leg quickly out of the way on reflex when he expected the metal to feel cold on his skin. He clicked his tongue when Izuki laughed at him, grabbing the cushion under his arm to throw at him, laughing too. “Asshole.”
Izuki grinned, easily grabbing the cushion from Takao’s hands when it hit him. He considered throwing it onto the armchair across the room, but right now Takao clearly wasn’t planning on leaving the sofa at all so he’d only end up getting up to get it himself. Instead, he put his drink down on the floor out of the way, and threw the cushion at Takao’s head.
Before he had a chance to sit back again Takao swung the cushion back into his face, but snatched it back before Izuki could take it from him. Using his legs, Izuki pulled Takao back towards him, grabbing at the cushion and fighting to take it from him. Takao held one arm up in the air, trying not to spill his drink as he struggled not to let go of the cushion. Izuki won and thumped it down, laughing at Takao’s “ooph- Oi!” when it hit his face. They fought over it again until Izuki stuffed it behind his back out of reach and wrapped his arms around Takao’s chest, trapping him there, and began tickling him down his sides. The arm holding the soda can jerked dangerously above them, but he was able to hold onto it.
It was funny for about twelve seconds, until Takao’s squirming and wriggling on top of him, still held between his legs and with a hip pressed against his crotch, made him realise that it was actually a Very Bad Idea. Just as he realised this and stopped tickling, Takao managed to use his only free hand to grab on to one of Izuki’s wrists, holding it still as though that could stop him.
They both lay still, breathing heavily. Izuki stared up at the ceiling to avoid looking at the situation. He pressed his lips together and closed his eyes.
Do not move your hips. Do not move. Think about something else!
He’d like to pin the responsibility on Takao for turning him into some kind of pervert, but he wasn’t sure that was fair blame. Still, he tried to think of less pleasant things than having his best friend between his legs. He realised he should probably do something about that, although he didn’t want to, but just as he made to move them both Takao took it as him reaching to tickle him again.
He gripped Izuki’s wrist tighter and held the soda can above Izuki’s head. That worked. Izuki’s stomach jumped, and not in a good way.
“Do it again!” Takao yelled. His grin was still spread over his face and there was a giggle in his voice, but that didn’t mean he wasn’t being serious with the soda can.
Izuki froze, keeping his eyes on the can. “Let’s not be childish.”
“You started it!”
He felt Takao twisting around to look back at him and he took the opportunity to use his other hand – the one not currently being squeezed in a vice grip – to grab Takao’s arm and try to take the drink from him, but as soon as he wrapped his fingers around it Takao began tipping the can. Not enough to spill anything out yet, but enough that Izuki heard the contents sloshing around inside threateningly.
“Your mom will kill you if you do it,” he pointed out quickly.
“I’ll tell her you did it –”
“She won’t believe you.”
“– and that you were too embarrassed to admit it.”
“That … okay, that she might believe,” he admitted, releasing the hand holding the can. “But anyway, I already stopped, see? Truce?”
Takao slowly lowered his arm, his eyes searching Izuki’s face for the lie. “Okay…”
When Izuki made no move to start tickling again, Takao turned around and began to relax again, settling down to watch what was left of the movie and stretching his legs out better across the sofa. He didn’t tell Izuki to let go of him or try to push him off and get away, so Izuki didn’t move away either.
Not knowing what else to do, Izuki stared at the tv screen too. He knew he shouldn’t think too much of it really. It didn’t mean anything for Takao to cuddle him now and then. Maybe a little more often than that. Since Izuki had begun getting to know him he’d always been the cuddly type, never being shy about affection. Still, that didn’t have to stop Izuki from pretending for just a little while.
Takao’s grip had loosened but not let go, holding Izuki’s arm in place over his chest gently, his fingers felt warm and relaxed against Izuki’s skin. Izuki hoped that if the thumb brushing absently over his wrist did detect the racing pulse under it, Takao would put it down to their scuffle or the fact that he almost got soda poured over his head or even the cheesy background music that was supposed to add tension to the movie.
“You’re just lucky that it wasn’t a fair fight,” Takao declared, though Izuki knew better than to take it seriously. “I’d definitely win if I could use both hands.”
“Hm, maybe.”
“‘Maybe’? Maybe I’ll just have to prove it some time.”
“Anytime,” Izuki offered easily, unconcerned that it’d ever happen. They’d had plenty of fights outside of basketball before that had gotten physical, but they were only good-natured tussles – fights that had never been serious or meant to harm, and that Izuki had to admit to himself that he’d enjoyed more than he probably ought to. He couldn’t imagine either of them really trying to hurt the other even if a real fight were ever to happen. If it did, he guessed they were probably pretty evenly matched now, but he’d never win because he would never be able to bring himself to hurt him on purpose.
“Anytime?” Takao let out a bark of laughter. “Oh, you wanna fight me, Shun-chan? I’ll fight you. I’ll have you pinned in minutes. Although maybe you’d like that.”
“Maybe I would.” It had slipped out before he even had time to realise he was going to say it.
Takao’s head whipped around, his eyes wide and staring. Maybe that had been going too far. They stared at each other. Izuki was almost sure he was supposed to say something here. Anything to defuse the atmosphere.
“I meant, maybe I’d like to pin you instead.”
Okay. Great. Because that was loads better.
Takao cleared his throat, still staring, and said, “Oh.”
There was a high pitched shrieking from the tv and they both turned to watch the young girl on screen as she continued to lie helplessly on the floor where she’d fallen after tripping on a tree root, screaming and holding out her hands instead of getting up and running from the slowly approaching monster.
Takao’s hand on him suddenly felt like it was scorching hot; like it was fused to his skin by his fingertips and full of lightning that threatened to burn right through him, making him almost feel as though moving his arm at all would shatter it. His heart pounded in his chest so hard that surely Takao should feel it thumping against his back. He tried to regulate his breathing, forcing himself not to take in a gasp of air like he felt desperate to do.
Looking down at Takao’s neck, so close under his face, he thought he saw the faint fluttering of skin where his pulse beat. Maybe he found the movie scary after all. At least he wouldn’t notice Izuki’s nerves if he was too busy thinking about his own. His gaze travelled over Takao’s face, searching for any tells that would show he was afraid. He did look tense, but Izuki didn’t have the heart to tease him about it right now.
Not that he could have said a word through the lump stuck in his throat anyway.
He took the opportunity while Takao was distracted to just look at him and considered all the possibilities of what would happen if he just put a hand on Takao’s chin, turned his head to make him look back at Izuki, and kissed him right on the mouth, weighing the chances of “He wouldn’t hate me. Even if he didn’t like it he would forgive me,” against “He would be grossed out and that rejection would be too painful.”
He realised his other hand had been moving on its own, reaching out to Takao’s face like it was going to go ahead and go through with it whether he thought it was a bad idea or not. It hovered there near Takao’s cheek for a second while he argued with himself, knowing Takao had already seen it, before he changed direction and put it on Takao’s shoulder instead.
Takao turned to look at him, like he was waiting for Izuki to say something, but Izuki just kept on staring blankly. He couldn’t think of anything to say that wouldn’t make it any more awkward, and the longer it went on the worse it got.
He was supposed to pull away. Any time Izuki got too close like this, he knew he had to be the one to back off. Takao wouldn’t – why would he? He wasn’t the one who had to fight back the urge to hold on and never let go, or that he’d go too far from what was allowed and ruin their friendship completely.
Takao’s fingers curled a little tighter around his wrist. Any second now he was going to make a joke out of the whole situation and tease Izuki for obviously forgetting whatever he’d been about to say, and then everything would go back to normal and Izuki could stop staring at his lips like a dumbstruck idiot.
Izuki tried his hardest not to imagine how kissing them would feel, or to wonder if Takao would actually kiss him back, or to think about how nice it would be to just lean just a little closer and find out.
Okay, he didn’t really try at all, but he knew he should.
The phone rang from out in the hallway, startling them both so much that Takao almost fell off the sofa trying to get up to answer it. The contents of the can in his hand sloshing as he righted himself too fast and practically ran from the room, spattering the floor with soda.
Izuki sucked in a breath, listening to Takao’s usual cheery voice greeting his mother on the phone before letting it out again slowly. He would have kicked himself if he thought it would help at all, but this had happened to him too many times before and it would happen again. He couldn’t even be sure if Takao ever really noticed why Izuki occasionally behaved oddly and only pretended not to be weirded out by it for Izuki’s sake, or if he was as oblivious to the reason behind it as he seemed. He’d assumed that no one else at all had noticed until one time when Riko had pulled him aside out of earshot of anyone else to tell him, with a pained expression and what he was sure she thought was a comforting squeeze on the shoulder, to “just tell him, or he’ll never get it.”
He got up to wipe the floor, needing something to do other than just sitting there, and passed Takao on the way to the kitchen to find some paper towels to clean it up with.
“Ah, yeah, we will,” he heard him saying, nodding his head as though she could see him. “Yes. No. No. As soon as the movie finishes – got it!”
Takao ended the call while Izuki was rewinding the movie. He knew the call had ended because he'd heard Takao saying goodbye and then he'd heard the receiver being put back down on the holder, but Takao didn’t come back in at first. Izuki took a few steps towards the door before he changed his mind, stopped, and turned back. He sat down and waited.
“Apparently we can’t be trusted with our own bedtime,” Takao laughed, finally returning. “Says she knew we’d still be up and that we ‘had better not stay up too late.’”
“Ah,” he said, not knowing what else to say. “What did you tell her?”
“I told her ‘How can we do that when we have a house full of drunken teenagers to party with? These orgies don’t host themselves, you know.’ They’re on their way back right now to defend my purity.”
Izuki laughed, loud and unexpectedly, and just like that everything felt normal again. It was always so comfortably effortless for Takao to put him back at ease again that he was never really sure if it was just the way Takao was or if he knew Izuki better than he thought he did. Takao sat down on the other side of the sofa, looking around for a moment until Izuki held out the remote.
“You coming for dinner tomorrow?” He asked, pulling the cushion out from behind his back once the movie was on again and handing it back, eyes focused on the TV. “My mom invited you.” He added, unnecessarily. His mom would probably have Takao round for dinner every single night if she could, and his sisters would be happy for it too.
“Yeah,” Takao said, leaning forward to get a slice of pizza with one hand on the floor keeping him balanced and the other stretched out as far as it could go, his fingers wriggling on the very tip of the corner of the box to get a hold of it, refusing to move his legs from where they’d been crossed on the sofa. The bottom of his shirt slid down to his shoulders, baring his back and hips, drawing Izuki’s eyes to it as though there was something interesting about the way his spine curved. Then again, maybe it was the way his shorts had ended up trapped under his knees making the fabric stretch over his ass sticking in the air.
“Besides, won’t you miss me if you have to go alone?”
He was joking, clearly, but Izuki would’ve liked to tell him how entirely not wrong he was. However, unless he could work some great, life-changingly amazing pun into “Sometimes I miss you when you’re right there next to me ‘cause I want to kiss you so badly and can’t,” then there was no way he was answering that question.
Takao finally succeeded in pulling the box close enough to flip it open and take a slice out, and Izuki’s eyes were back on the TV.
“Plus, if I stay here I’ll only end up having to listen to them complain all through dinner about – hey!” Izuki had leaned over, closing the small gap between them, and had taken a large bite out of Takao’s pizza slice while he was talking. Takao half-heartedly told him “Get your own,” but instead of pulling it away, he offered it out and sighed, letting him take another bite.
“You were dripping cheese and tomato sauce onto your shorts,” Izuki told him, pointing. He didn’t bother holding back a grin as Takao cursed and leaned off the sofa again to grab a paper towel to wipe it off.
Izuki moved back to his spot on the sofa, but instead of leaving the distance Takao stretched himself out across it, resting his head against Izuki’s arm. Izuki felt heat radiating from Takao onto his skin, hyperaware of every movement he made so that he could tell without looking at all if Takao so much as arched a brow or smiled. He occasionally felt the lashes from the corner of Takao’s eye brush him when he blinked. It meant nothing. He was just like that. Almost from the start Takao hadn’t been big on keeping strict personal space boundaries, and it had been kind of driving Izuki insane this whole time.
They sat mostly in silence while they watched the movie, Takao occasionally commenting on things like the terrible effects or how the characters didn’t seem to have the slightest bit of common sense at all. Izuki missed most of the rest of the movie, too busy telling himself that Takao probably wouldn’t think anything of it if he were to lift his arm and put it around his shoulders, daring himself to do it. Before he could work up the nerve to test that theory, Takao sat back up to get a drink and stayed there at the other end of the sofa.
When they finally got to see a clear shot of the creature, Takao grimaced.
“That is the most miserable looking werewolf I’ve ever seen,” he snorted, his nose scrunching up a little.
“Must be hard for him to get over the moon,” Izuki said, his expression a deadpan poker face, but inwardly pleased that he’d finally gotten an opportunity to use that one. He’d been sitting on several ‘moon’ puns all night and hadn’t been presented with enough chances to use enough of them.
Takao, who’d just taken a large mouthful from his can, choked on his drink and sprayed soda into the air in front of him, coughing and spluttering but unable to stop laughing. Izuki shuffled close enough to reach his arm over and thump him on the back a few times.
“That was terrible,” Takao grinned, sighing loudly when he was finally able to properly breathe again. “Even for you.”
“Who’s laughing at them though?” Izuki said, raising an eyebrow. Takao turned his head to stick his tongue out at him, his hair gently brushing over the back of Izuki’s hand where it still rested against Takao’s back. He could feel his friend’s shoulder blade and back muscles under his thin shirt shifting as Takao raised the can to his lips to drain what was left from it. Takao didn’t seem to notice Izuki’s hand there, or if he did then he didn’t care. Before he could stop himself, Izuki moved his hand up to the neck of Takao’s shirt, his thumb dipping under the hem as it stroked down the back of his neck. His fingers pressed gently into the muscle between Takao’s neck and shoulder, feeling the tension in them and wondering if Takao had maybe pulled or strained it. He slid his hand down further, feeling the stiffness in his shoulders all the way down. One of the coach’s massages would surely sort that out for him, but he wasn’t about to suggest putting him through that.
Takao stiffened and seemed to hold his breath, and Izuki’s stomach both dropped and tightening into a knot as soon as he realised what he’d done. It was an odd sensation, like the moment you realise you’ve missed a step right before you fall.
Takao said nothing about it, but Izuki pulled back quickly anyway, snatching his hand back out of Takao’s shirt and running it through his hair just for something to do with it, as though that would help him to not feel awkward. He could have sworn that Takao’s shoulders moved, following his fingers as he took them back, but that was probably just wishful thinking. He fidgeted a little as the credits started to roll, wiping his palms on his sweatpants while he concentrated on breathing and hoped he wasn’t blushing.
He watched Takao discreetly for a minute, glad that he could observe without staring in his direction. Takao stared at the television screen, appearing a little too interested in chewing on his lip, not noticing Izuki watching the shadows flicker over his face.
“I don’t get it,” Izuki said when he couldn’t take it anymore, just to fill the silence. “What happened in the end? Did she die? Did he die? Did they forget to write an ending? There was a lot of ketchup on her dress so I’m assuming she got bit at least.”
“Maybe there’s a second one?” Takao shrugged, still staring at the credits as though he’d find something interesting there. Attempting a deeper, more dramatic voice, he added, “Cower in terror and prepare for Night of the Wolf-man two.”
“This time it’s fursonal,” Izuki finished, imitating his tone. He tried to keep his expression straight, but Takao’s grin when he laughed was something hard to resist smiling at. His eyes followed when Takao got up and crossed the room to turn on the small lamp on the side table. “You know, it’s getting kind of late. We should probably go to bed soon.”
“Yeah, we should,” Takao agreed, in a way that clearly said, ‘but we’re not going to, are we.’ He sat back down, sitting a little closer than before. They’d somehow both migrated into the middle of the sofa now, but neither of them moved to widen the gap. “The futon and spare blankets are already out.”
“She didn’t have to buy a new one just for me you know. The old one was fine.”
He didn’t bring up the fact that he couldn’t very well tell her that he rarely slept a whole night in it anyway. As soon as the house went quiet and everyone else was sleeping Takao would whine about the cold, complaining until Izuki climbed in with him to share the spare blanket with him as well as his own. Izuki would always wake early and get out of bed before anyone else, before they could see and get the wrong idea, and then they wouldn’t mention it again until the next time.
“You kidding?” Takao snorted, finally looking at Izuki. He didn’t seem able to look at him for longer than a second though and quickly looked back at the tv. The credits had stopped rolling. “I’m surprised she didn’t just buy you a bed. She’d adopt you if she could. She’d probably swap me out for you if she got the chance.”
“Don’t tell my sisters that,” Izuki said. “They’d probably agree to it.”
“Nah, you’re too perfect to swap out,” Takao laughed. “Good grades, you’re never in trouble, clever, funny, handsome.” He heaved an exaggerated sigh, “It’s a wonder someone hasn’t just married you already.”
He wasn’t being serious, Izuki knew that. He was only teasing and these weren’t compliments he’d never given Izuki before, but that didn’t stop the butterflies when Takao patted his leg and said, “And you can cook really well too.”
“Flattery isn’t going to get me to make you breakfast in the morning,” Izuki clicked his tongue, shaking his head. He was totally lying. He was already mentally making plans to get up early to make pancakes in the morning for him. Flattery was a deadly weapon and sometimes Takao didn’t know when to take his finger off the trigger.
Takao sighed again. Still refusing to look at Izuki, he picked up the remote and flicked through the channels, going a little too quickly to really see what was on, a little pink in the cheeks and his brow furrowed like he was really concentrating on pressing that ‘channel +’ button.
Izuki sighed internally. Life’s hard when your best friend is that cute.
He stopped on a random movie that was already some way through and had explosions. Izuki had no idea what the plot was supposed to be, but after fifteen minutes had passed he was fairly certain that whoever made it had done so by the motto “no scene without a gunshot”. It was really not something either of them would have chosen, but at this time at night they probably wouldn’t get many better options to pick from.
Takao stretched his arms up in the air, leaning a little closer and dropping one arm onto the back of the sofa behind Izuki’s head, close enough that he felt his hair move, but frustratingly not close enough. A drug deal went bad on the movie and they both stared only vaguely interested as yet another person got shot right in the chest. More explosions followed as large packs of white powder was thrown into the air and fired at. He tilted his head back as though to rest it, hoping he could just casually lean back close enough to touch, but instead he ended up putting his head right into Takao’s hand.
A glance at Takao told him it was probably fine. He didn’t seem fazed at all and his attention never wavered from the television. Izuki on the other hand could feel Takao’s hand through his hair like it was the only real thing around him. He shifted his head slightly, tilting it just a tiny bit towards Takao, and the hand on him moved with it instead of staying on the back of the sofa. When Takao’s fingers twitched, Izuki sighed, unintentionally letting out a soft ‘hmm’.
His cheeks heated when he felt Takao turn his head to look at him, laughing very quietly and murmuring so that Izuki almost didn’t catch it, “You’re like a cat.”
“Hmm,” he repeated the noise a little louder in agreement as though to say ‘Yes, that’s a perfectly acceptable reason for someone to make that sound when someone touches their head,’ and nodding so slightly that Takao might not have noticed if he hadn’t pushed his fingers through Izuki’s hair and started slowly stroking it at the roots.
Izuki could feel his heart beating in his throat. A strange thick fog had settled in his brain. He closed his eyes, enjoying the feeling and blocking out the sound of almost unintelligible swearing and gunfire. The air was warm, and growing warmer by the minute, or was that just him? If it wasn’t for the wild thumping pulse that beat in every part of his body and the adrenaline that was flooding through him, if he could just relax, he could have happily fallen asleep like this right there on the sofa. He wondered how Takao would react if he just lay his head on his legs and told him to keep doing that to his hair. He wondered if he dared try it.
Izuki opened his eyes and looked over at Takao. He was biting on his lip again, his other hand gripping the remote tightly while he watched the movie. Izuki had no idea what was happening on the screen anymore but he tried focusing on it anyway, watching two people – a man and a woman – begin an argument that quickly escalated into a dramatic fight where they appeared to be trying to kill each other. There was a struggle that went from violent to sexual way too quickly as they dropped their weapons, forgot the rolls of cash around them, and began ripping each other’s clothes off frantically like their lives depended on it.
His ears went hot as it got a little graphic. He shifted his hips, his eyes flitting to Takao’s hand to see if he was planning on changing the channel at all. It didn’t appear likely; he’d put down the remote somewhere and didn’t look like he was about to pick it up again and find something else just because the movie they had on seemed to have turned into some kind of soft core boathouse sex porno. In any case, he didn’t look affected by it.
Izuki looked away, searching the room with his eyes for something else to look at, but the sound of exaggerated moaning and wet kissing filled the room. He tried focusing on Takao’s hand instead, but that really wasn’t helping to take his thoughts in any different direction.
Unable to stop himself, he turned his attention back to the tv and tried to convince himself he wasn’t interested anyway. The actors weren’t bad looking, but they were nothing special. Neither of them were his type at all. They weren’t even really doing anything – it was all strategically placed furniture and household items and camera angles and fake moaning. They hadn’t even taken off their underwear.
Looking down at himself he saw that no amount of talking his head out of it was going to convince the rest of him, and he moved his arm to hide the bulge beginning to grow in the front of his pants. Takao continued on running his hand through Izuki’s hair, his fingers occasionally brushing over the shell of his ear or pinching the lobe between his index finger and thumb subconsciously and pulling on it gently before going back to massaging his scalp with his fingers, while all the time he did that he just frowned at the television screen like he was making some kind of clinical criticism of it. It was extremely unhelpful.
Maybe he really was the pervert here.
How much longer was this going to last anyway?
Getting uncomfortable he moved his hand closer to his crotch to cover it better, watching Takao carefully to make sure he didn’t notice. On the screen they grabbed at each other’s hair, and Takao’s hand twitched tighter for half a second before relaxing back into an easy rhythm again. Izuki bit back a groan of frustration, too concerned about drawing attention to the situation to ask him to turn it over already or stop messing with his head.
Pressing his hand down on his erection he felt little relief from the pressure, letting out a shaky breath, but it really wasn’t enough. He felt like squirming in his seat, or else just rushing off to the bathroom to deal with it, but that really wouldn’t be a good idea. The second he stood up it’d be practically right in Takao’s face.
Which really didn’t sound like a bad thing when he thought of it that way, and then he told himself very firmly to stop thinking about it that way. Too many months already spent tormenting himself about his crush, feeling guilty for the things he thought about him. He felt the outline of this dick through his pants with his fingers, wrapping his hand around it and squeezing until he hissed in a breath.
The movie really wasn’t that good at all. The acting wasn’t awful but it certainly wasn’t award worthy stuff, you couldn’t really see anything, so a part of him that was still able to use his brain suggested maybe he should just calm the hell down already, but he was going to just go ahead and blame teen hormones for this one. Though it did cross his mind that watching something like that with Takao was what was affecting him.
He couldn’t decide if that made it better or worse.
Thinking of Takao, he realised that the hand in his hair had frozen in place, and that he’d been palming his own hard-on in what was probably a pretty obvious way. He paused, his mouth open ready to make any amount of excuses – though he had no idea what he was going to say – but before he could get a word out he was stopped completely by the look on Takao’s face. His mouth was open, lips parted and dry from his shallow breathing, and his cheeks were almost as red as Izuki was sure his own were. His eyes were heavy lidded and staring right at where his hand was still wrapped around his clothed erection in a kind of trance.
Izuki tried again to say something, but every word he tried to utter got stuck in his throat. Really, it would be better if at least now getting caught would make his erection go away, but Takao’s eyes trained right on him like he was a starving man who found the last fruit only made it worse. His cock twitched in his hand and though he tried to conceal it Takao clearly noticed. He managed to close his mouth, swallowing hard, and his eyes darted up to meet Izuki’s.
There was no non-embarrassing way out of this for either of them now, he’d been caught and Takao had been caught looking, but he almost didn’t want one. Takao’s reaction made him want to do more, to push and test and try to get even more of a response out of him. The idea of teasing him with this sounded too good, but then he wouldn’t want to take it too far if he was uncomfortable. He didn’t know what to do, so he just sat there instead, aching to move his hand.
They stared right at each other for what felt like the longest minute of Izuki’s life while explosions went off in the background, possibly signalling that the sex scene had finally come to an end, though a little late for him. He didn’t move his hand, and Takao didn’t move either. It felt like they were asking each other, “Is this really alright?”
Izuki finally got his answer when Takao swallowed again, licking his lips and opening his mouth like he wanted to say something. No sound came out other than short, heavy breaths, so he eventually closed it again and let his eyes fall back down to Izuki’s lap, his hand behind Izuki’s head resuming what it had been doing with his hair. Izuki guessed that that meant ‘yes’ from him.
Cautiously – not making any sudden fast movements, as though he was worried Takao might be easily frightened off – he moved his hand, trailing the tips of his fingers and thumb slowly up and down his hard length, testing to see if he’d suddenly realise what was really going on and run away. It felt surreal; like he was in a dream and was going to wake up any moment now in his bed, hard, alone, and having to close his eyes and get himself off with nothing but his own hand and the memory of Takao in his own head like he’d had to do too many mornings already. Well, this was still kind of similar, except Takao really was right there in front of him and watching with rapt interest while Izuki touched himself tentatively through his sweatpants.
He kept his mouth closed tight; he’d embarrassed himself enough already without adding weird noises to it. But just touching himself on top of his clothes wasn’t enough, and Takao wasn’t exactly being shy about staring. He was only getting himself more worked up this way. Just as Izuki gave in and slipped his hand under the elastic, sighing when he finally felt the relief of wrapping his fingers around his cock, someone on the tv began speaking very loud and angry Spanish. Takao jumped in his seat, startled, and frantically searched behind himself with his hand to find the remote to turn it off without taking his eyes from Izuki.
“Is your vision really that narrow right now?” He asked, unable to stop himself and hoping that Takao heard the playful mocking more than the dry rasp of his voice. He swallowed a few times, wishing he could get a drink but not wanting to stop. Takao didn’t answer. Maybe he didn’t even hear him. He found the remote and quickly turned off the tv, leaving the room feeling a little too quiet, the only sounds being the roaring of blood in Izuki’s ears, their heavy breaths, and the quiet rustle of fabric where his knuckles rubbed against it as he stroked himself.
Takao’s fingers continued carding through Izuki’s hair, gripping a little tighter every time he take hold of some of it. His hand moved to cover the bulge in his own shorts as he pressed the heel of his palm into it, gasping. However he made no move to do anything else on his own.
“You too,” Izuki told him, his voice no clearer than it was the last time, but he supposed he was still winning this one since Takao didn’t seem to have any voice left in him at all. He made some kind of vaguely questioning sounding croak and looked up, finally tearing his gaze from the imprint of Izuki’s hand inside his pants, his eyes widening when he saw Izuki’s face. Izuki looked down pointedly at the bulge that was being badly hidden under Takao’s clenched fist. “You want to, don’t you? Let me see you too.”
He was blushing terribly, and he knew it. He could feel the prickling heat on his cheeks, his ears, his neck. That, at least, he could put down to the rising heat in the room, but there was nothing he could do about his voice or the lump that was stuck in his throat. Either way, whatever his excuses, it didn’t seem like Takao really needed them.
“Are you okay?” He whispered, just to make sure. Takao nodded his head enthusiastically and Izuki let himself relax about it, resting his head back against Takao’s hand and watching him tug down his shorts with the other. He only pulled them down a little way, just so far as he needed so that his hands wouldn’t be obstructed, and wasted no time getting straight to it.
Izuki watched his fingers, watched them gripping tight and moving fast over his cock like he was racing to the end. He wanted to tell him to slow down, that it wasn’t another competition; he wanted it to last longer so he could see more and burn it into his memory before his one chance was over. Not that he had anyone closer to compare it to, but he was pretty sure people didn’t just do this kind of thing with their friends. Or maybe they did? Was this a thing people sometimes just did and no one ever talked about? No, he definitely wouldn’t want to do this with anyone else, and the thought of Takao being with someone else that way…
A spark of familiar jealousy crept up in his chest and clawed at him. He forced it back. He was often plagued by imagined images of Takao with some faceless girl. Holding hands, going on dates, kissing, doing the whole ‘marriage and kids’ deal – the cheesy, sappy kind of stuff he’d never admit to thinking about. Or the thought that if it was going to be a guy there was already someone who it’d be.
It occurred to him now, too late, that this might make things awkward for them later, but he didn’t want to stop. Even if it would hurt him, he wanted to take this one chance to be closer with him.
Besides, if he suggested that they just stop now wouldn’t that only make things awkward sooner? They’d crossed that line already.
How far over the line was he allowed to cross?
Reaching out over the short distance between them on the sofa, Izuki rested his other hand on Takao’s bare thigh where his shorts were pulled down. When he wasn’t pushed away he squeezed lightly, rubbing over it with his hand. Takao’s head fell back while Izuki repeated this; rubbing and grasping at his thigh until a crease formed in Takao’s brow as he frowned and his hand relaxed a little, slowing almost to a stop.
“Hey, Shun-chan,” Izuki jumped at the sound of Takao’s voice, rougher than usual, breaking the silence. “Why’d you stop?”
He blinked, looking back down at his hand on Takao’s leg. He hadn’t stopped. It took a moment longer for him to realise that his other hand had just been lying idly in his lap under the band of his pants while he watched. He shook his head, not sure why, but Takao still seemed to be waiting for an answer.
When he opened his mouth to speak he wasn’t sure exactly what he had expected to come out of it, but “Can I touch you?” was not it. He kept his face as neutral as he could, even while he screamed at himself on the inside. At least he wasn’t the only one blushing.
“But you are touching me.”
Izuki gaped for a second, lost for how to reply to that without embarrassing himself even further. His mouth only managed to snap closed when he noticed Takao’s lips curling into a smirk, like this was a game and he’d just won a round. He narrowed his eyes, but Takao only grinned wider.
Pushing down the nerves, Izuki moved closer and closed the gap between them until their thighs pressed together and their faces were inches apart.
With one hand still on Takao’s leg, Izuki reached over with the other and slowly pushed Takao’s hand away from himself, feeling a jolt of satisfaction when Takao’s cocky smirk faltered and slowly slipped away. It was even more rewarding to hear the gasp and sigh of Takao’s breath as Izuki’s fingers wrapped around his erection, and seeing the way his back arched when he thumbed the head, how his hips jerked when he squeezed, and his fists – one holding onto the arm of the sofa, the other still tangled in Izuki’s hair – clenched tighter when he began moving his hand loosely and very slowly over the shaft.
Izuki’s hands were shaking and he hoped it wasn’t obvious. His legs felt like jelly. If he tried standing up he was sure they’d give out under him and he’d only fall right back down again. He wasn’t even really doing anything yet; just getting used to the feeling of touching someone else this way. The actual dick-in-hand part seemed to be going just fine for him, but the realisation that he was truly sitting there giving his crush and best friend a hand job was a slow dawning one. He tightened his grip and moved his hand in earnest, earning him one soft moan from Takao.
Takao pulled on his hair as though trying to guide him forward, but he did it so gently that it took Izuki a few seconds to notice and to try to decide if he was misreading it. Making up his mind to go for it anyway, he slowly moved in closer until their foreheads rested together and the tips of their noses brushed. For a moment he still didn’t dare go any further, unsure and edging forward only to pull back a second later, until a shadow of a smirk returned to Takao’s face.
“Not getting shy now, are you?” Takao asked, though his voice sounded more strained than he probably meant it to and his words came between pants and quiet gasps.
He tried to remind himself that it wasn’t a competition or a fight, he didn’t need to compete, and he should probably just relax. But Takao’s eyes dared him, and his need to win overpowered his nerves and he darted forward before he could change his mind again. He missed the first time, moving in too quickly and kissing the corner of Takao’s mouth instead of hitting his lips dead on, and Takao immediately trying to kiss him back after that took him by such surprise that he unintentionally pulled away and ended up being kissed on the nose instead.
Takao didn’t take his pulling back so well and leaned away, eyes widening with panic. Izuki hated that look on him; he’d rather be getting teased again than have to see that he’d caused Takao any distress. The phrase “got it bad” crossed his mind, and not even for the first time that week.
Throwing caution to the wind he let go of Takao’s leg where he’d been gripping it tightly and moved his hand up to cup his jaw instead, leaning in again without hesitating this time. They kissed slowly, both trembling slightly and grinning nervously into it. Izuki’s stomach did a little flip and he groaned, pumping his hand faster until Takao had to pull back from the kiss to gasp.
They’d been sitting side by side and the weird angle was becoming a bit of a problem and twisting around to kiss him was getting more uncomfortable, but Takao seemed to have forgotten that his hand was in Izuki’s hair, or that Izuki’s hair was attached to his head, because he was now pulling almost painfully on it.
He leaned forward, gently pulling his hair from Takao’s grip, and smiled when Takao finally released his grip on the sofa to grab at Izuki’s forearm as though to stop him leaving.
“I’m not going anywhere,” he said, turning his body to face him better, putting one knee on the sofa between Takao’s legs and bracing his other hand against back of the sofa to keep him steady.
Takao’s chest was heaving. His cheeks were red, his eyes were unfocused, and he didn’t really seem to know what to do with his hand now that it was separated from Izuki’s hair. He eventually settled for fisting it in the material of Izuki’s shirt at the shoulder and holding on like he was still afraid he’d disappear on him. His eyes fluttered closed before he forced them back open again to look up at Izuki, dragging him down into another kiss that started off hard and fast, almost frantic, but ended up more gasping against his lips than actual kissing.
“Sh-Shun-chan, I – ah…” Whatever he was about to say disappeared into a breathy sigh when Izuki leaned forward, trailing slow kisses down his neck and collar.
“Hm?” He murmured, unable to stop himself smirking as he continued, only barely using his teeth and tongue on the soft skin, and fighting the urge to just shove his other hand down his own boxers again. “What is it, Takao?”
Takao breathed something that sounded suspiciously like ‘jerk’, followed by a whispered string of swearing and unintelligible words and he scrambled with his hands to pull up his shirt out of the way. Izuki bit his lip in a thin attempt to mask his grin and leaned back again to sit on Takao’s knee. Takao’s eyes fell closed and his torrent of muttering developed into a repeated litany of ‘fuck fuck fuck fuck’ until his body stiffened all over, his mouth fell open, and his cock pulsed, coating his stomach and Izuki’s hand in come. Takao made a noise like a quiet whine and his eyes scrunched up, and Izuki had to lean in and kiss him again. He kept on stroking, working Takao through it until his whole body relaxed and he seemed to sink into the sofa a little, panting to catch his breath and letting his head fall to the side, still holding the bottom of his shirt out of the way but doing nothing to attempt to clean himself up.
Izuki reached out with his clean hand and brushed the hair from where it fell over Takao’s eyes, feeling a pang in his chest. An ache that wouldn’t go away just by touching him.
Takao’s eyes didn’t open, but his breathing began to settle.
His own cock felt harder than ever now and throbbing, but Izuki ignored it a moment longer to get down from the sofa and get the last of the paper towel from the floor. He cleaned his own hand first and then knelt on the floor in front of Takao, wiping the come from his stomach before it could dry uncomfortably.
When he looked up and saw that Takao was staring at him, appearing way more embarrassed by this than anything else that had happened, Izuki smiled, going for nonchalant as though he could somehow pull off the ‘totally cool and not at all super self-conscious right now’ impression – it’s not like his face could actually get any redder – and said, “You looked like you were going to fall asleep.”
Takao shook his head vigorously, but Izuki was already done. He dropped the dirty towels on the floor and stayed right there on his knees with one hand resting on Takao’s leg, both of them doing nothing while Izuki tried to figure out how acceptable it would be for him to finish getting himself off now that Takao was cooling down. In the end he decided that ‘acceptable’ probably wasn’t a word he could use now either way, and slipped his hand into his underwear again.
“Wait, stop!” Seeing what he was doing, Takao tried to pull him up from the floor by the sleeve. “Come up here.”
“Good one,” he said automatically, letting himself be guided back up onto Takao’s lap. Takao stared at him, confused, but Izuki could only shake his head and lick his lips to keep them from drying.
Takao reached up with shaking hands to hold Izuki’s face, kissing him again, but far too slowly. Izuki pressed their lips together harder, taking the opportunity when Takao parted his lips to breathe to slip his tongue in a little. Thankfully – maybe – the quiet but embarrassing noise he almost made was cut off by his own yelp of pain when Takao flinched and accidentally nipped his lip between his teeth.
“Sorry!” He snatched his hands back as though they’d been burned, wincing when Izuki held his hands over his mouth.
“It’s okay,” Izuki said, feeling it gingerly with the tips of his fingers. It wasn’t swollen or bleeding, and once he got over the shock it actually didn’t hurt much at all. He lowered his hands from his face and smiled. “It’s fine, you just surprised me. I’m fine. Are you okay?”
“Yeah, sorry, sorry,” he muttered again, going in for another kiss. He slid his hands up Izuki’s legs to his ass and up his back, then down his sides, and generally going everywhere but where Izuki needed his hands to be. Frustrated, he moaned into the kiss and rolled his hips.
Getting the hint, Takao tried touching him through his pants, but with his knees on either side of Takao’s hips the fabric was stretched too much between Izuki’s open legs. He started fumbling at the string tie of Izuki’s pants with his hands, struggling to work out the simple knot. His breathing picked up speed again, and he’d gotten so distracted by what his hands were doing that his mouth seemed to have forgotten it was busy kissing.
Izuki was almost desperate, needing everything faster, needing it right now, but Takao’s hands were shaking even more violently than his had been. Maybe it was just post-orgasm tiredness making his usually agile fingers feel clumsier, but Izuki pulled away, holding both of Takao’s hands still between his.
He waited until Takao looked back up at his face, giving him his attention, and tried to say what he needed to say. He wasn’t quite sure how to say it though, and his upstairs brain wasn’t really running the show as well as he’d like, so he just went with what he knew.
“Why don’t we keep it PG?” He suggested. Takao frowned. Okay, maybe it was a little late for that. Izuki continued, throwing out the first things to come to mind without pausing to consider how much sense it made. “You’re usually so on the ball, so what’s got your guard up? I’m taking a shot in the dark here and you don’t seem in the zone for it. It’s kind of a tip-off that something’s wrong.” Takao stared blankly, taking some time to get it. His hands had stopped shaking though. “No one’s scoring any points here. It’s net okay if you’re uncomfortable, so how about we call time-out?”
“Oh my god, stop!” Takao cried, suddenly breaking his hands free and clutching at Izuki’s shirt, hiding his face in it. His whole body was shaking now, but with laughter. The kind of quiet snorting giggles that meant he was trying to hold it back, but not trying very hard. “You’re making basketball puns now? You really have no filter on those do you.”
Izuki smiled and pressed his lips to the top of Takao’s head, wrapping his arms around his shoulders. When he was calm again, Takao wound his arms around Izuki’s waist and squeezed, tucking his face under Izuki’s chin.
“I kinda want to throw back something with the phrase ‘slam hunk’,” he mumbled, pressing his lips to Izuki’s throat, still embracing him tightly, “but honestly it’s not happening.”
Izuki tried to laugh, but it came out as a quiet gasp. Takao, leaving a trail of torturously slow open mouthed kisses along his jaw, lowered his hands to Izuki’s hips, gripping them tight enough to elicit one small noise from Izuki before he could stop it coming out. The smirk he expected to see never came; Takao’s mouth was too busy sucking at the skin of Izuki’s neck, just a little too hard at first, and then softly. He hoped there wouldn’t be any marks there that would be awkward to have to explain to their parents later, but he assumed – and hoped – that Takao would consider that too.
He rocked his hips, pressing himself closer and holding on tighter, his fists clenching in the fabric at the back of Takao’s shirt. He’d have been happy to sit there like that all night, making out and grinding his ass down desperately like he wasn’t going to die of embarrassment when he thought about it the next day, but Takao kept pushing his thumbs into the back of Izuki’s pants and tugging at them like he was going to pull them down, and then withdrawing again.
Takao didn’t really seem to have any idea what he was doing, and Izuki was relieved. He really had no idea what they were doing either.
“If you don’t want to –”
“Shun-chan, I really… really don’t want to stop,” Takao sighed, his breath tickling the over sensitised skin on Izuki’s neck, “but can I just do something first?”
“Ball’s in your court.”
Takao’s mouth left his neck and he pushed Izuki away, forcing him back off his lap to stand on the floor. Izuki almost worried that he’d somehow gone one pun too far and that Takao was going to walk away, but he shifted closer, sitting on the edge of his seat with Izuki standing between his legs.
Izuki’s fingers curled into loose fists and opened again, unsure what he was supposed to do with his hands hanging by his sides while Takao untied the strings at the front of his pants. He looked away when he felt them being pulled down and lifted his feet out of them, taking off his remaining sock himself when the other came off with his pants, leaving him standing in only his shirt and underwear.
He sensed Takao staring and fidgeted, feeling the almost incontrollable urge to burst out laughing and hide his face, and had to bite both of his lips together to stop it, his face on fire. When he glanced down and their eyes met, they both looked away again instantly, giggling at themselves in their awkwardness and grinning stupidly.
The corners of his smile twitched, his urge to giggle slowly dying when Takao took hold of his boxers, pulling on the elastic while his eyes traced the outline of Izuki’s hard cock against the fabric one more time before he looked up again and asked, “Can I take these off too?”
Izuki tried several times to put a reply into words, hoping he would come out with something smooth and casual, but he was the furthest thing from cool that he could possibly be at that moment. In the end all he could do was nod and make an embarrassing sort of noise that he supposed was meant to be something between a ‘yes’ and an ‘okay’ and sounded like neither, and wish that he’d stop blushing so damn hard.
Biting his lip and taking in a long shaky breath, Takao pulled them down, hesitantly like he was giving Izuki time to change his mind. Izuki kept his eyes on the wall, more self-conscious than he’d like to admit – hoping it wasn’t written all over him and pretty sure that actually, it was. The impulse to laugh disappeared completely when Takao leaned forward and pressed a kiss to his stomach under his navel.
Something swooped inside of him and he grabbed at Takao’s shoulder for support, trying to breathe steadily. Takao didn’t take Izuki’s shirt off, instead just bunching it up in his hands, keeping it up and out of the way while he followed the line of his hips down with his mouth. He paused, pulling back to look at Izuki’s face, staring up through his lashes with heavily lidded eyes and breathing heavily through parted lips, licking them as he tilted his head closer.
The gentle puffs of warm air over his cock made it twitch urgently, but he was going to do something very humiliating very soon if Takao tried what Izuki was sure he was thinking of trying.
He pushed Takao back by the shoulder, forcing him down to lean back on the sofa, and straddled his lap again, taking Takao’s face in both hands to kiss him again. Takao’s hands flailed for a moment, lost on where to put them and giving Izuki a small feeling of victory until they came to rest on his ass, palms hot against his bare skin, squeezing and pulling him up and closer so that he was up on his knees. The sensitive head of his cock rubbed against Takao’s shirt where he was pressed against his chest, making him gasp open mouthed into the kiss. The fabric was too rough, but he shifted his hips in search of more friction and moaned as Takao’s tongue slipped past his lips.
Takao’s hands wandered a lot, gripping the back of Izuki’s thighs and massaging them, fingers digging in a little under his ass, or dragging his blunt nails down his back under his shirt, but never touching him where he needed it.
“Takao,” he whined, impatient. He wound his arms behind Takao’s neck, leaning on his shoulders for support. “Come on.”
“Hmm?” Takao hummed, more intent on not letting their lips be separated.
“Touch me.” He tried to sound confident, demanding even, but it came out like a plea. He hated the way his voice shook.
“I am touching you,” Takao teased, smirking into the kiss until Izuki pulled back, glaring at him.
“Takao,” he growled, more forceful. Takao’s smirk only spread wider, his eyes shining mischievously like they always did when he knew he had the upper hand in teasing him, and Izuki’s voice grew weak again. “Don’t make me say it, please, Takao.”
“Can’t you at least use my name if we’re doing this?” He asked. He stroked his fingertips over Izuki’s erection, feather light touches up and down his shaft that made him shudder and jolt into it.
“Please,” he begged, “please, Kazu…” Takao’s fingers gripped just a little tighter, his thumb pressing in gently on the underside as he kept on stroking lightly. Izuki closed his eyes, sucking in a trembling breath. “K-Kazu-chan.”
He was aflame before he even finished saying it – feeling his skin scorching everywhere from his ears down to his knees – and he dived forward, hiding his face against Takao’s neck just as he let out a sound of surprised delight.
That was it. After everything else, this was what Izuki was never going to be able to live down. Quite possibly, by the sounds of it, the highlight of Takao’s night.
“Say that again,” Takao said, elated. Izuki shook his head, almost laughing at himself until Takao’s hand wrapped around his length, making long slow strokes from base to tip. Too slow. “Feel good?”
He didn’t know if Takao was teasing again or not, but he didn’t care. He nodded and lifted his head, kissing him hard until his lips felt swollen and he had to pause for breath while Takao’s other hand continued its roaming exploration of Izuki’s skin, running his palm up and over his ribs, his thumb sweeping over his chest.
Izuki gasped and jerked, whimpering when he did it again. Takao stared, blinking up at him, both hands stilling.
“Sensitive,” was all he offered as explanation.
“Say, Shun-chan,” Takao grinned, brushing his thumb almost roughly over Izuki’s nipple a third time, pleased by his reaction, “are you ticklish here too?”
“Something like that.”
Takao grabbed the shirt – damp and sticky now with sweat – pealing it up over Izuki’s head, both of them laughing as they fought with it to get it off. As soon as it was off, revealing Izuki’s full body blush, Takao dropped it onto the other side of the sofa. Izuki ran his fingers through his hair, pushing sweat soaked bangs out of his eyes, and looked down at the blotchy red of his chest. He hoped his face wasn’t too much worse, but the self-conscious feeling wasn’t so bad when he watched Takao’s eyes raking over him hungrily, silent apart from his ragged breathing.
There was nothing quite as good for stoking up the ego as the ability to render Takao speechless for any amount of time.
His hands fell down to Izuki’s legs again, which was the only thing keeping him up once Takao leaned forward and pressed his mouth to his chest, hot and wet, sucking for a moment on one side before moving over to the other, his tongue flicking over his nipple. Izuki’s hands caught in Takao’s hair, pulling on it, but not pulling him away. He bit his lip, making noises he already knew he was going to feel mortified to remember the next day. His thighs shook under Takao’s palms, holding himself up now only with great effort and Takao’s help.
“Stop teasing,” he choked, eyes falling closed.
Takao breathed out a huff of quiet laughter. “You’ve been teasing me for months.”
Izuki couldn’t remember a single moment where he’d done that, but he wasn’t about to ask about that right now; they could save that conversation for another time. When Takao’s hands left the back of Izuki’s legs – one holding into his hip and the other going to his cock and resuming the same unbearably slow and gentle touches as before – they gave out with fatigue, and he gave up holding himself up.
He sat, feeling Takao’s cock hard again under him and, leaning back with his hand on Takao’s knees, he rolled his hips on it, thrusting up into Takao’s hand. He let his head fall back, not caring anymore for the noises he made when Takao began moaning and gasping shallowly under him, the hand on his hip squeezing and pulling him closer.
Takao thumbed at the tip of Izuki’s cock, spreading pre-cum and twisting his wrist, making Izuki’s hips jerk harder. Panting loudly, he rutted up against Izuki where he squirmed on his knee, shamelessly fucking into Takao’s loose hand.
“Takao, I can’t…” he said, near sobbing. “Please, I can’t take it anymore. Please.”
He expected more teasing, or for Takao to laugh, but he didn’t.
“Okay,” Takao whispered, tightening his fist and moving his hand faster, giving Izuki what he needed. “Okay.”
Leaning forward, Izuki wrapped his arms around Takao’s shoulders, kissing him messily until he was dizzy. He pressed down harder, rocking faster against Takao where he could feel him through his clothes, belatedly wishing that Takao had taken off his clothes too so that he could be just that much closer. Izuki’s hands tangled themselves in Takao’s hair, tipping his head back so he could drop small kisses on his cheek, his jaw, his neck – his lips dragging on the skin under Takao’s ear where he hurriedly muttered, “Please, Takao. Don’t stop. I’m gonna come, I’m gonna come.”
“Fuck, Shun-chan,” he gasped urgently. Izuki opened his eyes to look at him, but Takao’s eyes were squeezed shut, his hips stuttering out of rhythm and his mouth falling open. “I–ah… ahh…”
His hand raced over Izuki’s cock, tightening again. Izuki’s mouth closed over Takao’s shoulder, only barely remembering to be careful not to do anything that would leave a mark, panting and gasping loudly, his voice muffled by Takao’s skin when he cried out as he came hard over Takao’s hand, his body trembling all over.
They stayed right where they were, faces hidden in each other’s necks, Izuki wrapped around Takao and struggling to catch his breath. He clung on a little tighter, his heart jackhammering in his chest and spent cock twitching in Takao’s hand, overstimulated and sensitive, until Izuki grabbed his wrist and he let it go. Every one of Izuki’s nerves were on edge, making him breathe out tiny, silent puffs of laughter and his body jump with small jolts when Takao’s other hand stroked his back, gently tracing lines and circles up and down his spine or over his ribs, tickling him.
It was several long minutes before Takao spoke, his voice sounding too loud when it broke the quiet. “We should probably move soon.”
“I don’t want to,” Izuki whispered, his voice muffled against Takao’s collar.
“You’re freezing,” Takao reasoned, and he was right. Izuki was shivering all over, his naked sweat-cooled skin no longer blotched with red, but covered in goose bumps and come and nothing else.
Too embarrassed to move, he shook his head. “I don’t care.”
Takao grabbed the only thing he could reach and cleaned off his hand and, when he could coax him into sitting up for it, Izuki’s stomach and thighs. Izuki made a small sound of protest when he saw that it was his shirt. Takao shrugged, apologetic, and mumbled that it was all he could reach and that “you can just wear one of mine.”
Eventually logic and the cold won out, and Izuki had to slide off Takao’s lap across to the other side of the sofa, noting the state of Takao’s clothes as he did; the stain drying on front of his shirt that was Izuki’s mess, and the damp patch on the front of his shorts that definitely was not Izuki’s. At least he had clothes on. Izuki couldn’t tell if Takao was averting his eyes out of politeness or embarrassment, but it was appreciated all the same.
“I’m gonna just… go and … I need a shower.” Takao stood up and walked away, leaving Izuki to get dressed alone.
He got up, wanting to dress fast, and picked up his sweatpants from the floor, sighing at the marks on them from where he’d managed to kick them off into the open pizza box. He pulled on his boxers and took one of Takao’s shirts from out of the clean laundry, quickly took the spare blanket from Takao’s room while he was still showering, and then sat on the sofa to wait, feet up and his face half hidden behind his knees.
When the shower stopped running and he heard Takao moving around in his room he felt something that couldn’t seem to decide whether it was apprehension or anticipation. It was beginning to feel like the footsteps on the stairs were going to go on forever, never actually getting there, when he finally came back down, somehow still managing to surprise him when he stepped into the room.
Takao stared at the blanket over Izuki and opened his mouth to ask, but then saw the pile of clothes on the floor. He took them silently and put them in the machine with his own. After that, he picked up the rubbish and dishes from the room, clearing everything away even though they’d have the whole morning free to do it. He did it without a word, spending more time than was really necessary on everything.
Izuki didn’t like it. He didn’t like things being weird between them. He didn’t like the way Takao watched him when his head was down but then awkwardly avoided looking at him when he looked up. Really, he’d rather they both just forgot about it.
He'd messed up. This was his fault.
“I put fresh towels out.”
Takao’s voice shocked him out of his panic. He looked up, confused.
“In case you wanted a shower,” Takao went on, standing at the other side of the room like he was afraid to come any closer.
“Oh. Yeah. Thanks.”
He eyed the blanket again. “Are you planning on sleeping down here?”
Izuki shook his head. “I was just cold.”
Takao relaxed, tension dropping off his shoulders like he’d been carrying a weight around, and hesitated only a moment before he went and sat next to Izuki. They didn’t speak for a few minutes. Takao sat close, but not touching. He seemed shy of making any easy contact for the first time since Izuki had known him.
“So…” Izuki blurted out, just as Takao began, “Did you–”
They both stared at each other, waiting for the other to go on.
“You go,” they said, at the same time.
They paused again, and Izuki wasn’t sure who started it, but they were suddenly both laughing. Giggling like children at their own awkwardness and neither being sure how to break it. Takao smiled down at his hands, fidgeting, clearly not about to continue whatever he was about to say before.
Feeling somehow more naked than he had earlier, and with his heart thumping in his chest, Izuki reached out with one hand, barely touching Takao’s arm with one finger, just enough to get his attention again, and then held his arms out open. There was a beat of silence – one terrifying second where Takao just stared at him and he was afraid he’d read everything all wrong – but then Takao sighed in relief and leaned in to him, wrapping his arms around Izuki’s waist.
There was a moment of shuffling and rearranging themselves to get more comfortable, and they somehow managed to fit themselves almost side by side on the sofa. Takao ended up lying almost on top of Izuki, one arm curled between them and the other flung over Izuki’s middle.
At least this, cuddling, was something they were more used to. Something they’d done a hundred times before already, even if it was unusual for Izuki to be the one to start it. It felt easy. They rested like that for a while, peaceful and warm, and Izuki felt himself getting sleepy.
“Hey, Shun-chan,” Takao said, his voice quiet and his cheek still pressed against Izuki’s chest.
“Hm?”
“That was okay, right?”
Izuki’s skin prickled hot all over again. He hadn’t expected they’d talk about it so soon. He knew what ‘that’ was, obviously, but he wasn’t sure if ‘okay’ meant good or allowed. Either way, the lump that suddenly formed in his throat stopped him from giving anything more than a nod and a noise of affirmation in reply.
Takao shifted a little, quiet again for a moment before, “You want to do it again?”
“What, right now?” Izuki choked. That was a little more forward than he was expecting at the moment.
“No, not right now,” he sighed. “I mean, like, as a thing.”
“A thing?”
“Yeah, like, a thing that we do.”
“A thing that we do?”
Takao lifted his head to look at him, a little red but failing at his attempt to glare. “Would you stop copying me?”
Izuki tamped down the odd urge to ask ‘Would you stop copying me?’ back, more to avoid the topic than to annoy him. He stared up at the ceiling, trying to avoid the sinking feeling in his chest. “So, just a thing, then?”
“You make it sound like I just mean screwing around…”
“Don’t you?” He couldn’t completely mask the bitter edge in his voice, the way it broke slightly when his eyes started to sting. Now would be a very bad time to cry. It was stupid really; he’d never expected anything more. He wished Takao would look away again.
“No, unless… is that what you want?” Izuki shook his head and Takao smiled. Not his usual smile, but the softer one that people rarely got to see. “Me too. So, is that a yes?”
“Yes to what?” He asked, needing clarification before he dared hope.
“That this could be… you know, a thing that doesn’t mean nothing?”
Izuki waited, but that looked like all the explanation he was going to get. “Takao, are you asking me to be your boyfriend?”
“Yeah,” Takao said, quiet but still smiling.
“Really?” Izuki felt his face light up and a bubble of hilarity rising inside of him before he could stop it. “Are you serious?”
“Okay, you don’t need to laugh at me. Wow.” Takao put his face down again, hiding it against Izuki’s chest.
“I wasn’t,” he promised, still laughing. “I’m not laughing at you.”
Takao still wouldn’t look up at him, so he waited until the giggles subsided and took the hand lying across his stomach, threading their fingers together and staring at them while he said, “Okay, yeah.”
“Yeah?” Takao asked. He finally looked up.
Izuki shrugged and nodded, trying for cool nonchalance even though he knew he wouldn’t pull it off because his face was heating up again and he was still grinning like an idiot.
“Does this mean I can hold your hand whenever I want?” Takao asked.
Izuki breathed out a quiet laugh. “You do that anyway.”
“Not as much as I want to,” he admitted.
Izuki lay his head back, trying to breathe normally. He wasn’t sure if he was giddy with it or in shock, afraid he would wake up any minute and find himself alone in his bed having dreamed the whole night up. He stroked one hand through Takao’s hair, winding his fingers in it.
They stayed in a comfortable silence for several long minutes, until Izuki’s eyelids grew heavier, his hand seemed to decide to stop moving all on its own, and every time he blinked it took him longer to open his eyes again.
“We should go to bed,” he said, attempting to sit up, but Takao didn’t budge at all. When he looked down he saw that Takao’s eyes were closed, one hand still clasped in Izuki’s and his breathing slow and steady. “Takao,” he hissed, convincing himself he was actually trying to wake him even though he’d lowered his voice. “Hey! Don’t fall asleep here, I still need a shower. We can’t just… Takao!”
He tried shaking his shoulders a little, but Takao only buried himself closer and pulled on Izuki’s hand until his knuckles were brushing Takao’s lips. No good; he was a heavy sleeper and would probably sleep until morning now unless Izuki really gave an effort to wake him. Sighing to himself, he brushed the now dry bangs out of Takao’s eyes, his heart clenching in his chest and butterflies erupting in his stomach again. He looked too peaceful to wake now.
“I guess we’ll just stay here for a few hours then,” Izuki muttered, pulling the blanket out from under Takao, tugging it roughly until it came free and he could throw it over both of them. Takao still didn’t wake. He shifted onto his side until he was comfortable and able to properly wrap his arms around his sleeping friend.
Boyfriend, he reminded himself, and for a moment he had to bury his face into Takao’s hair as though somehow the walls would see him getting flustered again. He let his eyes fall shut, still smiling and flushing warm with exhilaration, but already feeling himself falling asleep.