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There’s a boy next door. Kei likes looking at him.
It’s summer now, so it’s easier to do so. But during the school year, Kei would have to leave his house in a systematic manner, timing precise and steps measured. He’d walk a few paces behind the boy, just barely bordering on too close. The proximity makes the boy nervous - his shoulders twitch the whole time they walk to school. Kei likes it.
But the summer heat seems to relax the boy. And Kei likes that, too. He catches the boy in the mornings, shorts flowy on his thin legs as he tends to his front yard. He does it for his mother. Kei’s seen her a few times. She plants the flowers, clumsy arrangements, and then she forgets about them. So it’s the boy who does the upkeep.
He looks good when he does it; thin hair dragged up in a frizzy half-do, tanned sinew shining under the sparkle of torn garden hoses, dirt kissing his freckled cheeks and tulips blooming hotly under his knees. He glances up to Kei’s window every now and then. Maybe he thinks he’s being subtle, but Kei catches his eyes every time. The boy jumps like he’s been caught doing something bad. Or wrong. And then he goes red and fluffs up the petunias again, shirt riding up as he stretches over the flowerbed.
Kei’s pretty sure the boy deliberately pets every flower, as though the un-pet ones will somehow feel sorrow over being skipped over. It’s kind of stupid. It’s kind of hot.
Their windows face each other. Kei’s taken particular delight in deliberately stripping in front of him. He likes catching him staring. He likes the way the boy’s jaw drops so easily. And Kei likes watching him, too.
The boy is not a shut-in, not by any means, but he’s home so often that he must not have many friends. Kei watches him thumb through physics textbooks. Kei watches him huff through sets of wobbly pull-ups. Kei watches him clutch his own throat while he jerks off. And Kei watches him write in that little notebook.
It’s a diary, actually. A composition notebook. Cheap. The cover’s mottled with miscellaneous stickers. Kei snuck into the boy’s house once. He’d been hoping that the boy was home and alone. But the house had been empty. So, Kei had resigned himself to the boy’s bedroom, carefully thumbing through the diary.
The boy has a crush on Kei. He writes about Kei a lot. Sweet things, like how he thinks it’s cute that Kei pads out to the street when he hears the ice cream van pulling up. And how, apparently, he's snuck into Kei’s house as well, and tucked stray notes into Kei’s wallet just to satiate that rotted sweet tooth. And he likes when Kei wears tank tops and jackets, and getting to see that sly strip of skin on his shoulder when the jacket slips. And he thinks it’s sexy when Kei leaves his kneepads on, his sports goggles, the tape on his fingers from his volleyball practice.
He’s written other things, too. He wants Kei to ask him out. He wants Kei to kiss him. He wants Kei to do lots and lots of things to him.
Kei didn’t take the diary. He’s not stupid. But he does sneak into the boy's house a lot to read it. He likes the way he can feel his cheeks go pink at the impassioned passages, the shocking stains sticking some pages together, the myriad of happy lifetimes this boy wants to live through with Kei. It’s cute.
Kei likes making the boy flinch. It’s really hot. He doesn’t feel bad about it, either, because the boy likes it too. Kei knows so - it’s sprawled across most pages of that diary, cursive smudged with sweat and slanted with fevered delirium.
It’s not like they constantly dance around each other. Kei does sometimes come up to him, if he sees him on the street. The boy likes to lounge around on his porch, or lean atop of his mailbox, or sit hunched up on the edge of the sidewalk. Kei likes to walk up to him quietly, to make him jump. The boy twitches, or sometimes even gasps. And then he’ll just marvel up at Kei, totally scarlet. It’s really cute.
“What did you see today?” Kei usually asks him. The boy sees the world in a funny way, the most unlikely interpretation of a Rorschach test. Kei listens intently to whatever conversations the clouds had, or whatever faces the fish in the river made. Kei never interrupts him, never relents his stare. He likes making the boy squirm, fidgeting as he mumbles through a recount of his day.
“U-um…so…” The boy had dared to venture once. The sun was still rising, aegean horizon mottled with streaks of vermillion. His hands had been meekly clasped behind his back, eyes flitting to Kei’s shoulder. Kei had worn a jacket and tank top for him. “What’s your name…?”
He knows Kei’s name. More than that, actually. To this boy, he was ‘Tsukki.’ It was scrawled in big loops, the ‘i’ dotted with hearts, smiley faces, sometimes little frogs. So Kei had just raised an eyebrow at him. The boy fidgeted, stuttered something reminiscent of nevermind, and rushed back into his house. He’d been completely rubescent, too.
And, when Kei had seen him about a week later, sleepily dragging envelopes from his mailbox, he marched up to him. Right up to his face and everything. It was great, seeing the boy go from thick drowse to complete shock, face flaring. The mail fluttered to the ground. Their knees were nearly touching. The boy’s freckles spat static up Kei’s legs, spears of electricity piercing him with expert precision.
“It’s Kei,” he had said. Then he turned and left. And the boy had stared at him dumbly for the rest of the week, shyly wondering if Kei was going to come up and talk to him again. He had burbled on about the encounter in his diary, about how hard his heart was beating, about how pretty Kei’s voice sounded when it was still ragged with sleep. He said he liked seeing Kei’s face up close. And that he liked how Kei smelled (apparently, vaguely of cloves). The boy wrote about how he wanted Kei to get up close again. About what he wanted Kei to do to him next. About where he wanted Kei’s eyes to look.
Kei’s watching the boy now. There’s a parade going on downtown, so the streets are closed and the neighborhood is quiet. And the boy’s house is empty. Good.
The boy is doing something on the road, crouched and crawling on hands and knees. Kei can’t see what he’s doing, but he likes the view.
Eventually, enough curiosity stirs in Kei to usher him outside, and he slithers out from his house, humidity quick to drawl down his face. Cicadas shriek, and the faint hum from the parade ebbs in the distance, but otherwise, they are alone. Glorious.
The boy doesn’t notice him approaching, not up until Kei’s shadow pours over his frame. He jolts, looking totally gorgeous beneath Kei.
“A-ah- hi, Kei.” He says, coughing when his voice cracks. Kei wishes he could hear him say ‘Tsukki.’ It would sound so cute in his cadence. He stares at the boy for a moment, before letting his gaze fall to the road, wondering. “Oh- there are some ants moving around. Do you want to see?”
He shimmies over, and Kei kneels beside him. The boy is handsome, eyes sharp and nose a fine spearhead, every part of him a weapon to Kei’s inhibitions. Kei swallows, delighted.
“See? There are all these holes in the street. I think they have a colony underneath the asphalt,” the boy babbles, tracing the ruddy concrete. “Ants are pretty cool, aren’t they?”
“Mhm,” Kei nods. “They have wars, you know.”
“Wars?”
“Against other colonies. With battle strategies and ceasefires and everything.”
“Well, I guess that’s not surprising. Ants are so clever,” the boy murmurs. He rocks a little, his crouch unstable. Kei wishes he would just lean on him already. “I wouldn’t really like to be a worker ant, though. It seems intense.”
“So you’d rather be a queen?”
“And just sit around getting knocked up all day?” The boy laughs, cheeks dappling pink. “I don’t think so.”
Liar. Pages one-hundred and fifty-three through one-hundred and fifty-five. “Shame.”
“Huh?” He blinks at Kei. The boy’s pupils blow, crazed excitement seizing him fast. “Why’s that a shame?”
Kei rests his head on his arms. The boy looks good from this angle. There’s a thick burst of freckles down his neck, right along the carotid artery. The skin there is red and sweaty. It would feel so good under Kei’s tongue. He stares at it, stomach swooping, before eyeing the boy coyly.
“No reason.”
“O-oh…”
He’s so happy. Kei can see the thrill sizzling through him, a little fireworks show, dazzling. Kei wants to cut him open and watch the display.
A thick silence throbs between them before the boy speaks up again.
“I guess being an ant would be cool, actually,” he decides. “But only for an hour or two.”
“Why not a full day?”
“Time probably feels way longer to them, right?”
Kei nods. “That makes sense.”
And the effect is instantaneous, praise rocking the boy like magic. He beams instantly, turning his face away to grin down at the street. Kei has read enough of the boy’s thoughts to know that he was somehow thanking the ants for this.
“I’m- I’m Tadashi, by the way.” He announces, nervous. Kei’s read about this, too. Tadashi wants to hear Kei say his name. Kei wants to hear it, too. He wants to run home and drool it against his hands as he humps into his pillow. He wants to see the way Tadashi will tremble when he finally says it aloud. He wants to hear Tadashi beg him to say it again and again.
But Kei wants it for himself. “Do you want to go to your house?”
Tadashi’s blinks. Then he sways a little, almost falling over entirely.
“W-wha-?”
Page forty-two. “Come on,” Kei decides for him, grabbing Tadashi’s wrist and tugging him up. He looks really hot like this, completely catatonic with shock but nonetheless thrilled to be in Kei’s clutches. “Take me to yours.”
They walk over to Tadashi’s house, all the while Tadashi mumbles sentences that sputter out as soon as they start. For a moment, they idle at the door, Kei relishing in Tadashi’s half-hearted protests.
“Hurry up.”
“Huh?”
Kei nods his head towards the door. “Open it.”
“Um- Kei?” Tadashi says helplessly. He looks at where Kei still has his hand clasped around Tadashi’s wrist, every digit eager to squeeze the light freckles there. Kei can see the giddiness thrumming through Tadashi, simmering, aching to boil over. “What are- why are we going inside?”
“Do you not want to?”
Tadashi hesitates, before shyly sliding his hand against Kei’s wrist, resting their palms together. He quickly searches for approval in Kei’s expression, pupils blown and sweaty hands trembling. Kei can feel the pulse in Tadashi’s thumb, murmuring something private to Kei’s weak veins.
He loops their fingers together. Tadashi brightens considerably, face sweetly pink and eyes sparkling. Kei’s so hard his vision fuzzes for a moment.
“I guess we can…” Tadashi ducks his head shyly. Hair falls into his face. Kei’s heart thumps funny.
Though Kei has snuck into Tadashi’s house on multiple occasions, it’s quite different with Tadashi actively leading him inside, glancing back with a bashful expression every now and then. It’s a good look on him.
“It’s hot.” Kei announces. He’s not sure what he’s referring to.
Tadashi startles a bit. “Oh- do you want water? I have ice cubes too!”
So he lets Tadashi fuss over cups and ice, as desperate as ever to pull even the slightest hint of approval from Kei. It leaves him feeling rosy. Kei glances around.
Tadashi wants to fuck him on one of the kitchen counters; he wrote at length about it. Kei wonders if Tadashi’s thinking about it now. Kei certainly is.
He mulls it over seriously, dragging his hand on the counter top - it’d be great to be sat atop here, getting pistoned into again and again. To have the chill of the granite smoothed down by Tadashi’s calloused palms, hipbones tanned and sharp against where Kei would have his legs wrapped around them. Hot, hot, hot.
He leaves foggy handprints all over the counter as he thinks about it. Kei knows this will thrill Tadashi to no end.
“Here, Kei- water.” Tadashi presses a glass into Kei’s direction. The ice cubes are heart shaped, the water so cold it’s already making them splinter. Kei makes sure their fingers touch briefly as he takes the glass.
A silence stretches between them, thick with tension, the ceaseless drip of an hourglass. Tadashi stares at the floor. Kei stares at Tadashi. They take kitten sips of their water, quiet.
Eventually, Tadashi breaks.
“Um…Kei…?”
“Hm?”
“I…I have to tell you something.” Tadashi traces the rim of his glass. He drags his wet finger over his bitten lips, absent-minded. It’s a habit - he can’t afford lip balm. It’s a wonder Kei doesn’t drag him to his knees and beg to fuck his throat. “It’s embarrassing, though…”
Kei cocks his head, gaze cool. “Is it?”
“Y-yeah…”
Kei puts his glass down and steps closer to him, forcing Tadashi to lean back a little over the counter. His head cranes, eyes wide. His chest trembles in fast pants. He looks so good. Kei feels a little crazy. “Tell me.”
“I-” Tadashi clutches his glass. Something filthy has bloomed in his eyes, a sultry russet singing the copper. He swallows tightly. “I-I like you, Kei.”
He’s known forever, but the words still flood Kei with an overwhelm of need.
“Is that so?” Kei purrs. He’s got Tadashi exactly where he wants him - quivering, completely gone, just needing Kei’s praise more than anything. “How flattering.”
“Eh...? Really?”
“Yeah,” Kei twirls a lock of Tadashi’s hair around his finger. They’re so close now, chests grazing every time they breathe. Kei wants to flay his ribs open and let Tadashi fuck the space between his lungs. “I can’t believe someone so handsome would have feelings for me.”
“Me? Handsome?” Tadashi practically squeaks, head completely tilted back to meet Kei’s eyes. He puts his own glass down, clutching the counter behind him. Pretty. “Ah- t-thank you, Tsukki-”
He claps his hand over his mouth immediately, but it’s too late. Kei grins down at him.
“‘Tsukki?’” He repeats incredulously. As if he hasn’t read it over and over in Tadashi’s diary, swathed in hearts and fluttery comments that sent scorching arousal through Kei’s stomach. “I don’t recall ever telling you my last name.”
“I-I’m sorry-”
“Did I?” Kei lets the lock of hair go. It curls slightly when it kisses back against Tadashi’s chin. His eyes have gone watery. He’s better than morphine, Kei reeling woozy from the simultaneous high and withdrawal. “Did I tell you, and just forget about it?”
Tadashi droops, cherry red. “No…”
“Hm. So what, then?” Kei slinks his hands around Tadashi’s waist, threading him close, stitching them together. Something buzzes in Kei, systemic, his whole body freshly addicted to Tadashi. “Are you just some creep? Have you been stalking me, Tadashi?”
And there it is. Tadashi’s head shoots up at the mention of his name, glittering. Pressed this close, Kei can feel Tadashi’s heart pick up, shrieking, thrilled.
“N-no,” he breathes, too swept in Kei’s drone to even take offence to the accusation. Kei likes that. “I just happened to…I-I read it on your mailbox…”
“I don’t know how much I believe that,” Kei drags his thumb across the small of Tadashi’s waist, skimming lightly under his shirt. It makes Tadashi shiver. “I feel like I should be worried. After all, you’re clearly obsessed with me.”
“I promise, Tsukki- Kei, it’s- I just like you.” Tadashi bites his lip. He’s been doing that a lot - his lips are distinctly pink now, slick and flush and absolutely begging for Kei to nip at them too. “Nothing creepy. Nothing for you to worry about.”
“Really?”
Tadashi nods, erratic. Kei wonders how he’s held himself back for so long. “Well, I’m afraid I can’t date a creep. You’re going to have to prove you’re normal, Tadashi.”
It’s cute, how Tadashi blooms at the sound of his name, utterly besotted with Kei’s voice.
“H-how?”
Kei grins. “Take me to your room.”
“Huh?”
“I’m sure it’s all normal in there, right? None of my clothes, no shrines, nothing?”
Tadashi stammers. His room is normal - Kei himself has combed through it thoroughly on multiple occasions. There’s just that one weeny little composition notebook with Kei’s name scrawled all-throughout it.
“Um-”
“Well?”
“I-I...I guess that’s fine,” he says eventually, though it’s a little tight. He swallows, Adam’s apple bobbing. Kei wants to duck his head and take a bite. “Come with me, Ts- Kei.
Kei’s careful to never leave more than a few centimeters between them as they pad to Tadashi’s room. It makes Tadashi antsy. Kei likes that. They both do.
“H-here…” Tadashi holds the door open for Kei, smiling shyly. He’s so nervous. He’s so desperate. Kei feels light-headed.
The room seems fine. A little dishevelled, perhaps, but otherwise inoffensive. A textbook splayed here. Some clothes strewn there.
And that lovely little notebook, sat atop Tadashi’s bed.
Tadashi lets out a gasp at the sight of it, foregoing all semblance of subtlety to race over to it. He chucks it under his bed sharpish, fumbling to sit down on his duvet, as though he was half-expecting the bed to fly away. Kei can’t help but snicker.
“Tadashi…” he croons, padding over. Tadashi looks sheepish, contrite, freckles crimson and cheeks gleaming. He has his hands meekly interlaced in his lap, ankles crossed in front of where the notebook was. He looks like heaven. “What was in that book, hm?”
“N-nothing, Kei!” Tadashi yelps, nearly cutting off Kei. He makes a little noise when Kei steps into his space, foot nudging at Tadashi’s ankles. Slowly, Tadashi obliges him, wordless as he allows his legs to be parted. He gapes at Kei, fingers fidgeting and eyes swirling like dark cocoa, perfectly sweet. And all for me.
“Tadashi.”
“Kei…?”
“You are a creep, aren’t you?” Kei raises an eyebrow. “Have you been writing about me?”
He hesitates. But, after a moment, Tadashi nods gingerly.
Kei feigns shock, cocking his head. “Dirty things?”
“I-” Tadashi mumbles, and then his head hangs, hair swishing around him. Gorgeous. “I’m sorry, Kei.”
“Aren’t you awful?” Kei sneers. “I’m a person, you know.”
Tadashi doesn’t have a response, looking gutted. Maybe it's mean, but he just looks so good like this, irresistible. Kei wants to lean over and bite his cheek.
“But don’t worry, Tadashi,” Kei settles himself between Tadashi’s legs, brushing hair out of his face. “I like you too.”
“Y-you do?”
Kei nods, suddenly struck with fondness. He hadn’t expected how much he’d like being slotted in Tadashi’s lap like this.
“Kei-”
“Tsukki.”
“Tsukki,” Tadashi breathes. “O-okay.”
“And since I like you so much, I think I can forgive you,” Kei smooths his hand over Tadashi’s collar, letting his fingers graze beneath his shirt. He’s hot all over. “But you’ll have to make it up to me.”
“Anything, Tsukki, whatever you want.” Tadashi sways back a little as Kei leans closer to him. “Ah…?”
“I’ll hold you to that.” Kei murmurs.
Tadashi makes a little noise when Kei kisses him, the shock leaving him yielding, easy - Kei can feel the brush of Tadashi’s eyelashes when he eventually remembers to close his eyes. It takes very little for Tadashi to let his head get coaxed back, to let his lips part, to let soft sounds fall from the back of his throat.
Kei laves his tongue in slow drags. Unintentionally so. He didn’t expect the inside of Tadashi’s mouth to be so devastatingly hot, absolute arousal swinging through Kei with every lazy drag of spit that slips past their teeth. Their lips make a slick sound every time they part, and Kei can feel his face growing pinker and pinker - how utterly embarrassing, to let a simple kiss leave him so flushed and breathless. But he can’t possibly help it, not when Tadashi’s dick is throbbing against his stomach, not when he’s somehow trying to mumble tsukki between kisses, sweetly delirious under Kei’s weight.
Tadashi is brave. Kei forgets that sometimes. His blood rushes when he feels Tadashi shyly works up the courage to swim his hands up Kei’s neck, arms stretching out until they slowly drawl around his shoulders. It was like getting enveloped in a Venus fly trap, Tadashi’s tongue beholding a nectar so potent that Kei couldn’t possibly fathom escaping. Or wanting to.
It feels stupidly good to kiss Tadashi, to have him beneath Kei like this, gasping for air and only moaning when Kei just kisses even more sense out of him.
“Tsukki,” Tadashi mumbles, barely coherent, blissed out of his mind. “M…more…”
“Do you feel good, Tadashi?”
“Mm…”
Kei hums at that, cajoling Tadashi to lay back against the bed. His glasses slip down his nose and knock against Tadashi’s cheek. His heart thumps.
“Uh- sorry.”
“It’s okay,” Tadashi giggles, picking them off. “Do…do you want me to put them back on you?”
Yes. Because then Kei would have the glory of Tadashi’s hands upon him, wrists hot and pulse rampant against Kei’s cheeks as he slid his glasses back on. It would mean getting to turn his head and quickly press a kiss to the divot in Tadashi’s hands. Kei would really like that.
But Tadashi really, really likes Kei’s eyes, apparently. He swoons about them on every other page - Kei can see him admiring them now. And Kei really, really likes this dreamy look on Tadashi.
“That’s okay,” Kei mutters, cheeks certainly cerise. “I can see you from here.”
Hushed, Tadashi just nods, stretching to drop the glasses by his nightstand. Kei kisses at Tadashi’s face, tracing the sweat-slick freckles that stud his cheeks and tip down his jaw. Tadashi squirms as Kei gets to his neck, gasping when Kei laps at the skin there - Kei can’t resist sucking a little heart-shaped bruise, Tadashi’s pulse humming under his tongue.
“Ah…Tsukki…” Tadashi whimpers, clutching Kei so tightly that he was surely stabbing in bruises. Kei reveled in it, fucking up against Tadashi, hot pleasure seeping into every junction of his body and leaving Kei feeling wondrously dazed.
He startles when he feels Tadashi touch at his shoulder, toying with the strap of his tank top. Kei draws back, heat swinging through him when he sees how utterly loved-up Tadashi looks.
“What?”
“Y-you look so good like this, Tsukki.”
“Yeah?”
Tadashi nods, shyly fidgeting with Kei’s jacket and slipping one side of it off his shoulder. “Pretty…”
“Do you sometimes stare at me, Tadashi?”
Tadashi laughs nervously, a little high-pitched. “Sometimes.”
Kei grins, sitting back on his knees, leaving Tadashi to clutch wistfully at the bottom of his jacket. The other shoulder slips down as well, and the immediate flush that befalls Yamaguchi is too good.
“Tadashi,” he says, hushed. “Do you ever touch yourself while thinking about me?”
Sheepish, Tadashi doesn’t immediately answer, mumbling something incoherent to himself while pointedly avoiding looking at Kei. Inpatient, Kei skims his hand over Tadashi’s shirt, fingers smoothing dangerously close to his neck.
“Tadashi.”
“Okay! Okay,” Tadashi gasps, but Kei can see the hysteria in his eyes, the mania coloring his cheeks. It’s shameless, how he’ll take just about anything Kei gives him. The thought makes Kei ache with want. “I-I have. I’m sorry.”
“Hm,” Kei hums, dragging his hand back down Tadashi’s shirt, slow. Tadashi’s minute trembling feels so good under Kei’s fingers. “You know what?”
“What?”
“I think I like that.”
Tadashi blinks at him, eyes big. “H-huh?”
Kei shrugs off his jacket for good. The way Tadashi ogles him should leave Kei embarrassed, but the attention just feels so devastatingly perfect, his heart fluttering in coy patterns. Kei wants to be caught up in Tadashi’s stare forever, to get locked up in a wet taxidermy and have every twitch catalogued by that ceaseless copper.
“Tell me what you think about.” Kei demands, tossing his jacket to the floor. It lands close to the bed. It could be touching Tadashi’s notebook, sleeve splayed against the cover - heat scorches up Kei’s spine at the thought.
“Tsukki- please don’t- mm.” Tadashi bites his lip, hips rolling on their own. He grabs helplessly at Kei’s thighs. “Ah! Don’t make me-! It’s too-”
“Don’t I deserve to know?” When he doesn’t say anything, Kei snatches up Tadashi’s wrists, fingernails digging in crescent shapes. “Tell me.”
Tadashi fidgets a little in Kei’s hold, to little effect.
“I…I like thinking about you breaking into my room.” He eventually whimpers. “I leave my window a little open at night, Tsukki so- it’d- it’d be really easy, you know?’
I know. Kei relents his hold, humming, pleased with the response.
“And- and I think about you catching me reading a dirty magazine or something,” Tadashi continues to mumble, so deliciously ashamed, clutching Kei’s thighs for dear life. “I- um, I really love when you look down at me, Tsukki, s-so you’re doing a lot of that...”
Kei rewards Tadashi’s confessions with the littlest twitch of his hips. Tadashi whines, shuddering with pleasure. “What else do you do?”
“You make m-me keep touching myself,” Tadashi shyly creeps his hands over the hem of Kei’s shorts, fingers twitching, clearly aching to palm at Kei’s dick. “But I say no, so you do it.”
“Even if you said to stop?”
“W-well, I’d really like it…so, um…”
Fuck. The thought sends ugly sparks of pleasure up and down Kei, blood spitting with delight. Pinned down by Kei, one of his hands jerking Tadashi off in slow strokes, the other clamping down on his mouth so he can’t cry for help…wow.
Kei swallows down a moan, breathing stuttered. He rolls his hips into Tadashi’s hands.
“What- ah, what else?” He urges.
Eyes wide as saucers, Tadashi breathlessly acquiesces, obliging Kei and clasping shyly at his dick with one hand. The light friction is enough to make Kei’s legs tremble, a blow of breath atop a searing flame.
“I wouldn’t fight back for that long,” Tadashi eventually works up the courage to tug at Kei’s shorts, blinking fast, awe glittering his lashes when he eventually slips Kei’s dick out. “Because- because I really like you, you know? And I know you’d make it feel so good, so I wouldn’t care. As long as I had you.”
“Mm…”
“And- and so you don’t stop,,” Tadashi whines, spurred by Kei’s coaxing, delirium rocking through him and making his pupils pulse. “And you make me cum over and over. And it’s- ah, it’s so good, Tsukki.”
“Really? You want that?” Kei says through grit teeth, Tadashi’s hands hot around him. “So you’d just let me do whatever, as long as it’s me?”
“Yeah,” Pre-cum weeps from the head of Kei’s dick - Tadashi pushes himself up to lick at it, sucking hard, squeezing at the backs of Kei’s thighs, and Kei can’t help but gasp. It clings to Tadashi’s tongue when he draws back eventually. He looks even prettier with Kei all over him. “I just want you, Tsukki.”
Ridiculous. But it’s complete heaven to Kei. He tears Tadashi’s hands off of him, shoving them against the sheets. He ducks his head, faces close, fucking up against Tadashi’s stomach and relishing in the heated way he can feel Tadashi’s own dick leak enough to leave drags of pre-cum on Kei’s clothes.
“So, what else happens, Tadashi?” Kei nips at the top of Tadashi’s ear, one hand smoothing down his side to encourage him to keep rutting up against Kei. “Because it doesn’t sound like I stop at a rushed handjob, do I?”
“Ah…T-Tsukki…!”
“I bet I make you take me, huh?,” He huffs, breaths coming in torn shreds, hot against Tadashi’s neck. “In your wicked little fantasies?”
“Mm-!”
Kei grins, kissing the top of Tadashi’s shoulder. “It’s a shame, really. I fell in love with a total degenerate.”
“Ah-!” Head lolled like a ragdoll, Tadashi wrenches his wrists from Kei’s hands to fling them over his shoulders, sneaking under the tank top straps. “That’s- it’s not like that, Tsukki, I swear-”
“Who do you think you’re fooling?”
“It’s- I’m not- mm!”
Kei half-laughs, but he’s dizzy with arousal, head swimming, dunked in and out of water. The thought of Tadashi with the lights dimmed, pleading Kei’s name into the dark…it sends something hot and dark swirling through Kei, burning heated pleasure through into drop of blood in his body.
Kei draws back to sit on his knees - their arms are so tightly drawn around each other that Tadashi moves alongside him with ease, albeit a little surprised to be dragged upright all of a sudden. He blinks at Kei, wondering, the two of them panting hotly against each other’s mouths.
“T-Tsukki?”
It’s sick, really, that the universe would keep them so close and yet so far. Kei seethes over the countless nights where just he stared at Tadashi's window and watched him jerk off, Kei trembling both with all-encompassing need and a slight rage at the waste of it all. If only he’d really slinked in and claimed him, fucked him until he was crying, re-arranged the wires in his head until they could only feebly sparkle tsukki, tsukki, tsukki. If only.
But now Tadashi was all his. Definitively so. He twitched and jittered under Kei’s will, alight only for him. Grinning, Kei cups Tadashi’s face.
“Tsukki…” Tadashi mumbles, weakly clutching at Kei’s arm. He cranes his head until Kei’s hand is cupping his throat instead, breathing a soft sigh at the sensation. “Hah…”
“So desperate,” Kei hums, though blinding hysteria is shocking through his blood like lightning. He squeezes lightly, and Tadashi whimpers a quiet, fluttery gasp. “But I suppose it’s okay. As long as it’s just for me. Right?”
He clasps just a fraction harder, and Tadashi’s shudders in his hold, drool slipping down his lips. “Right, Tadashi?”
“Mm-hmm.” Tadashi sighs, cheeks pink, a soft smile donned. A surprising purr of affection swings through Kei - he’s completely at Kei’s mercy, one mere movement away from having his life squeezed out of him by Kei’s shaky fingers. And yet, he beams up at Kei with complete trust, ceaseless adoration.
Kei likes it. He kisses Tadashi’s nose. The freckles there blush quietly against Kei.
“So. You actively fantasize about me using you for myself,” Lips close, Kei murmurs, low, relishing in the way Tadashi’s pulse lights up beneath his fingers. “Is that you want now?”
“Yes!” Tadashi nods feverishly, face somehow rushing even redder. “Please, Tsukki-”
Kei cuts him off with a sick squeeze around Tadashi’s neck, the choked noise he makes rushing right to his dick and whispering hot arousal throughout Kei.
“Shut up. And lay down on your stomach.” Kei shoves Tadashi away, crossing his arms as Tadashi meekly complies. He shimmies up the bed, knees drawn to his chest and cheeks gleaming with sweat. There’s a thick, shiny patch on Tadashi’s shorts, beads of pre-cum studding through the fabric. Tadashi swallows as he re-arranges his legs, and a thin line of pre-cum sticks to the top of his thigh. He hastily wipes it off, but it just shines his legs even further. Kei wants to lap at it.
Breaths shaky, Tadashi blinks big eyes up at Kei, pupils dark and impassioned. His hair splays around him in a tantalizing bloom, each lock a blossomed petal, begging for Kei to clutch at it. His shirt skips by just the lightest fraction over his waist, and his thighs are blushed, trembling. To be so undeniably wanted, so plainly clamored for by every cell in Tadashi’s body…Kei feels himself reel slightly, rosy in the head.
But only slightly. Kei raises an eyebrow. “I said on your stomach, didn’t I?”
Tadashi worried at his lip. “I-I know, but-”
“Are you already disobeying me?” Kei sneers. “And here I thought you were so well-behaved.”
“Please, Tsukki! I just really want to see your face,” Tadashi pleads, reaching for Kei’s hands and interlacing them. Kei leaves his own clasp loose, partially to tease Tadashi, partially to savor the sweat that had slipped between his fingers. As tempting as Tadashi looks, clinging to Kei’s hands, legs spread and begging for him, Kei had to shake away the delirious static that had befallen his mind.
“You can’t expect me to entertain that.” He lets go of Tadashi’s hands. “Turn around before I make you.”
With a pout (but not without a rapt pulse in his eyes), Tadashi moves to accede, still craning his head to look at Kei from over his shoulder. The sight sends dizzying spasms of adrenaline rocking up Kei.
“Like this, Tsukki…?” Tadashi mumbles, clutching the pillow.
“Stop humping the mattress,” His hands reach out to skim against the small of Tadashi’s back, where his shirt was still rucked up. Tadashi’s hips roll in fractured twitches, pathetic snaps at pleasure, but they still obediently beneath Kei’s caress. Kei swallows tightly when he hears Tadashi whine a little at the contact, eyes fluttering shut. “Remember: this for me. Not you.”
“I’m sorry, Tsukki,” Tadashi breathes, shaking.
Kei takes his sweet time smoothing his hands down the expanse of Tadashi’s back, relishing the scalding skin, the lithe waist, the delicate arch of his spine. His hands naturally find a rhythm, gliding up and down Tadashi’s back in an almost massage-like manner. Tadashi quivers as Kei moves, watching from over his shoulder, little noises spilling from his throat whenever Kei presses down just a fraction too hard.
Fingers possessed and Kei growing insatiable, he smooths his palms to the hem of Tadashi’s shorts. Tadashi gasps when Kei digs his nails into his hips, forehead dropping to the pillow, legs parting approvingly in little shivers.
“Good boy,” Kei murmurs, leaning down to nip at the nape of Tadashi’s neck, grinning when Tadashi makes a choked noise and desperately tries to buck his hips back against Kei. “Don’t get greedy.”
With a resigned whimper, Tadashi stills. Kei trails his hands along the curve of Tadashi’s ass, clasping appreciatively at the thick fat, smoothing down the backs of Tadashi’s thighs and kneading at the dappled skin. He wonders if he can scrawl his name with the freckles there.
“M…more, Tsukki…” Tadashi creens, looking gorgeous, rolling back into Kei’s hands but obediently keeping his hips off the bed. The movement is completely hypnotic - Kei can feel his brain whirl round and round, doused in agonizing heat. “You- mm…you can do more- ah!”
Tadashi gasps into the pillow when Kei swats at his thighs, hands wringing into fists when Kei curls his fingers around the waistband of Tadashi’s shorts and boxers.
“I don’t need your permission,” Kei says airily, dragging the fabrics down with one hand and squeezing the newly-exposed skin with the other. Tadashi’s skin is still as burning-hot as ever, ass blushed strawberry and freckles speckling all down his legs in the most enticing flutters. Kei can’t resist experimentally humping up against him, hissing at the contact, at the way his pre-cum drags over Tadashi’s skin.
“Mmn…!” Tadashi pushes himself up onto his arms to try and further the friction, but Kei just grabs the back of his neck and shoves him down. “B-but Tsukki-!”
“Shut up, already.” Kei sucks in a harsh breath through his teeth. Having Tadashi so beautifully lain out beneath him, face down and ass up and utterly gorgeous, was the best kind of surrealism, the delicious haze of a wet dream. Tadashi keeps trying to look over his shoulder, helpless, plaintively blinking those thick lashes and whines constant and glorious. “You’re going to make me cum, aren’t you, Tadashi? Let me do whatever I’d like until I finish?”
“Hmnh...yeah, Tsukki-" Tadashi slurs, his whimpers cracked and heaven-soaked when Kei slips his hand between Tadashi’s thighs to pet at his dick. He writhes, jaw dropped, inhibitions useless against Kei’s hand. “Wh- ah- ahn- T-Tsukki…?”
“That means you don’t get to,” Kei grins, relentlessly pumping Tadashi in his fist, dragging the thick trails of pre-cum down the length of Tadashi’s dick and slicking up the hot space between his thighs, reveling in the marvelous way Tadashi trembles. The pre-cum sticks between Tadashi’s legs in little ropes, luxuriously so, leaving him hot and glossy and gorgeous, soaking hot all over. “Understand, Tadashi? You’re not going to cum. Not once.”
“But- but-!” Tadashi nearly sobs at the way Kei continues to mercilessly stroke his dick. He thrashes desperately, his messy attempts to wriggle out Kei’s fist futile and desperate. Kei almost does want him to cum, just to fuck into Tadashi while he was blissed out and senseless, post-coital delirium melting him into the best kind of pliant.
But bless Tadashi, he does his best. He feverishly tries to clutch at Kei’s hand, stilling his movements as much as he can. He turns to try and face Kei, faint tear-tracks buzzing down his cheeks, lashes wet, just so dizzyingly pretty that Kei can’t help but let him go, captivated.
“I w-won’t, Tsukki.” Tadashi promises meekly. “I just want you to feel good.”
Kei takes one look at Tadashi’s face. And he makes it his new personal mission to make him cum so hard he cries.
But he doesn’t divulge this; instead, he smiles approvingly down at Tadashi, leaning to kiss his cheek.
“So sensible…” Kei praises, quiet, nipping Tadashi’s damp cheek when he quivers. He strokes at the slickened space between Tadashi’s thighs, smeared pre-cum dripping down them in provocative trails. A sudden rush whips at Kei, adrenaline swooning over at the sight of Tadashi - Kei clutches his tanned hips, breathing hard. “Put your legs together. Tightly.”
Tadashi squeezes his thighs obligingly, the light squelch snapping something low and hot in Kei’s gut. “Is this okay…?”
“Yeah,” Kei breathes, head swimming at just how perfectly dulcet looks, the irresistible shimmer of a chocolate fountain - he feels his organs melting into blissed ribbons, his whole body unraveling and aching for Tadashi. “Just like that.”
It’s unfathomable, how tight the space between Tadashi’s thighs is. Kei really can’t believe it. As he slowly pushes himself in between Tadashi’s legs, the air in his lungs seizes, rushing out of him in a clamour. The slide is devastating, Tadashi’s pre-cum (and Kei’s as well) like thick candle wax, almost romantic in the way it coats down Kei’s dick and pulses alongside the subtle veins. Tadashi whimpers, high and loud, moans falling apart instantly, his whole body completely hijacked by Kei’s touch.
“H-hah! Tsukki!” He cries out, trying to somehow screw his legs even more tightly, the hot slip of his hips sending Kei kissing along the knife’s edge of insanity. Kei can’t even begin to think, not when he can feel Tadashi’s dick throbbing against his, not when he can feel Tadashi leaking all over him, ecstasy coloring his desperate whines high. “Mm- my God, Tsukki-!”
“Too hot…” Kei mumbles, completely crazed now. He pants into the back of Tadashi’s neck, hands humming over Tadashi’s arms to try and ground himself. “Tadashi…”
“D’you feel- ahn- you feel good, Tsukki?” Tadashi manages to plant a messy kiss on Kei’s arm, tongue velveteen against the veins on his wrist.
Kei feels like blown glass, burning at a thousand degrees, getting thrashed back in and out of an oven and pulled into shapes beyond his comprehension. He wants to shatter, to embed himself into Tadashi’s skin, to rip the blood out of him and invite color to his translucent shards.
Instead, he kisses the crown of Tadashi’s head and skims his hand around Tadashi’s throat, fingers careful to rest on the particularly big freckles that Kei knows are there. It coaxes a shy whimper out of Tadashi. Kei draws Tadashi’s head back to look up at him, heart gasping at the sight of his pretty face.
“...Hi.”
Tadashi giggles. The sound buzzes beneath Kei’s hand. “Hi, Tsukki.”
Kei smooths another kiss, to Tadashi’s temple this time. Tadashi makes a small, pleased noise, shy hands clasping over Kei’s own. Slowly, Tadashi drags at the hand around his throat, bashfully getting Kei to use his whole arm instead, effectively sequestering Tadashi into a headlock.
“Is this what you like?” Kei purrs, completely bewitched by the image of Tadashi peeking out from under his arm, cheeks mottled red and a sheepish grin adorned. “Getting held down and used by your boyfriend?”
Tadashi totally delights at the term ‘boyfriend,’ eyes shimmering. He nods fervently (or as much as one can when they’re trapped in a chokehold.)
“M-more than anything, Tsukki.”
Cursing quietly, Kei squeezes his arm harder, hand tangling in Tadashi’s hair to truly trap him. The smothered noise Tadashi croaks out makes both of their dicks pulse, and Kei just can’t help himself anymore.
He ruts raggedly, once, twice, in between Tadashi’s thighs, experimental and shaky. Each drag is torturous, shocking a pure, undeniable rapture through Kei in dizzied swings, a Newton’s cradle laced with fireworks. Tadashi trembles with the effort of not fucking back against Kei, keeping his thighs clamped together and clasping frantically at Kei’s arm, mouth parted and drool spilling onto Kei’s skin with every little thrust.
“Stupid slut,” Kei huffs, trying his level-best to keep his hips slow and methodical - but Tadashi’s high moans are so astonishingly incredible, each little noise weaving its way into the deepest recesses of Kei’s being. “Wh-what kind of pervert dreams about getting used? Hah- how is this possibly turning you on?”
“I’m s-orry, Tsukki,” Tadashi slurs out, whimpers getting hotter and hotter as Kei starts to lose control of his pace. “I know- I know it’s- hah!”
“Don’t even bother talking,” Kei doesn’t really know why he’s bothering with talking. The feeling of his dick slipping against the underside of Tadashi’s own snaps his whole brain into vantablack, each thrust smashing Kei in and out of lucidity. The smack of their skin leaves Kei gasping, his whole body stunned, spasming into uselessness at the mere grace of Tadashi’s fractured moans. “I bet regular sex wouldn’t- ah, wouldn’t do it for you, hm? No, it has to be like this. You just won’t get off any other way.”
Little tears melt down Tadashi’s cheeks now, but he’s half-grinning through his ceaseless whimpers. It just makes Kei want to fuck him even harder.
“Do you think this somehow makes you less of a whore? If- mhm! If someone makes you take it?” Kei angles their hips so that Tadashi can’t help but hump up against the bed - he sneers at the way Tadashi scrabbles desperately at his arm, trying to somehow wriggle his hips out of it - but Kei can’t possibly allow that. He snaps forward in avid jitters, driving Tadashi into the bedsheets, drawing little ah, ah, ah’s from him with every frantic thrust. “Because it’s not working, ‘Dashi. You’re still just a slut.”
“Mmnh- Tsukki, Tsukki-!” Tadashi chants, eyes honeyed with manic affection. Kei had never seen someone so deliriously thrilled to be called a slut. “I’m s’close, so close, Tsukki-!”
“I thought we said you weren’t going to cum?” Kei mocks, but he reaches around to jerk off Tadashi in messy slides. His hand is immediately covered in thick ravels of pre-cum - Kei feels him growing hot at just how much there was. “What- ah- what changed, Tadashi?”
“Too good, too good, too good,” Tadashi babbles, eyes rolled. His fingers tremble, twitching, barely able to clutch onto Kei anymore. “Tsukki, Tsukki, Tsukki-!”
“I should’ve known you’d never last,” But Kei’s never felt so utterly enchanted in his life. He grins harshly, panting hard against Tadashi’s back. “Go- go ahead, Tadashi. Cum for me.”
“But- I- T-Tsukki!”
“Hurry up,” Kei bites a rushed hickey to the side of Tadashi’s neck, open-mouthed and sloppy, fucking mercilessly into Tadashi’s thighs. “I want to see what a proper slut looks like.”
Tadashi barely manages to croak the start of tsukki before he’s spasming all over, shaking as hot ropes of cum slick between his stomach and Kei’s fist. With Kei’s endless thrusts, he ends up dragging back the cum in between Tadashi’s thighs, somehow making it twice as wet and hot as before.
Still possessed by tremors, Tadashi pants desperately, wordless but still rocking against Kei’s dick, in spite of how doubtlessly overstimulated he must be. A small prick of pride bleeds through Kei, dripping through his blood and blushing him to an even further scarlet. Tadashi claws feebly at Kei’s arms, blinking watery eyes up at him.
“Tsukki-!” He whines, voice gloriously rough, sex slipping into every syllable he manages to spit out. “P-please- please-”
“What could you possibly be begging for now?” Kei snaps.
“Inside- please cum inside me-!”
And it’s so stupid. It really is. Because Kei is not inside him. And the fact that Tadashi is too delirious to remember that should make Kei cackle.
But it doesn’t. It makes him gasp harshly. And it makes him cum so hard that he forgets to breathe.
He spills all over the underside of Tadashi’s dick, wearily giving out his hold around Tadashi’s neck and collapsing atop him, clutching instead at Tadashi’s waist as he trembles through his orgasm. Though he could feel himself leaking onto the bedsheets, a part of Kei couldn’t help but join Tadashi in the delusion, thrilled at the fanatic idea that he was filling Tadashi up instead. He whines quietly against Tadashi's back, jittered and shaky with pleasure.
“Tsukki…?” Tadashi eventually whispers, gently petting at one of Kei’s hands. Kei just groans, dragging his chin lazily across Tadashi’s back. “Hehe…”
“What?” Kei mumbles, but there’s no bite to it, all his organs struggling to pick themselves back up into working order. He doesn’t resist when Tadashi loops their hands together, pressing a sweet kiss to Kei’s knuckles. “Thanks…”
As though unwilling to disturb Kei’s foggy haze, Tadashi wriggles around until he’s craned his body enough to nose against Kei’s cheek, grinning.
“What are you smiling about?”
“You’re mine now, Tsukki.” Tadashi says cheerily. He kisses Kei’s cheek once, and then he pecks him a few more times for good measure. “Right? Right?”
“Right, right.” Kei mutters, languidly relishing in the affection. “I think the parade ended, you know.”
“Ah- I guess we have to clean up, huh?”
“We’d better.”
Tadashi pouts. Kei brushes their still-red cheeks together. They both like it.
The bedsheets are a lost cause - Tadashi just jumbles them haphazardly into his laundry bin, legs still shaking. Kei can’t help but feel a little smug as he pulls his own shorts up.
He accidentally treads on his jacket, still cast somewhat beneath the bed. Kei picks it up, shaking it out, mulling it over.
“Tadashi?” Kei calls. “Come here.”
“Hm?”
Tadashi shyly steps closer, smoothing down his rumpled shirt. His hair’s still frizzy - blushing, Kei briefly runs his fingers through it, and Tadashi breathes a contented sigh.
“Wear this tonight,” Kei requests quietly, draping it around Tadashi’s shoulders. Tadashi blinks up at him, jaw dropped.
“E-eh? Really, Tsukki?!” He beams, clutching it, before his movements falter. “Wait- tonight? What do you mean?”
Suddenly bashful, Kei kicks at the carpeted floor, lacing his hands together. Tadashi cocks his head to one side. “Tsukki?”
“...you’re going to leave your window open again, aren’t you?”
Tadashi startles a bit, before a coy grin befalls him, an even deeper red sparkling back to life and coloring his face. Kei swallows, unable to stifle his own grin.
Tadashi is the boy next door. And Kei really, really likes him.