Archive of Our Own

The first time it happens they're in Fukuoka.

They're running from the cops after a fight turns into a brawl— which turns into sirens and people scattering.

Endo licks blood off his teeth, grabs Takiishi by the wrist, and tugs hard. He's expecting the instant stop of Takiishi refusing to move, reclaiming his body from Endo's needy grip. Or maybe a fist to the face and then to stumble, to end up chasing after Takiishi's heels the way he always does, always will, blood in his mouth, teeth aching.

He gets neither of these things.

Takiishi accepts Endo's hand on his wrist without comment and follows him in a way that surprises Endo, has him tripping over his own feet as he drags them away. He turns a corner and then another, Takiishi's wrist hot against Endo's palm, his pulse thudding with exertion. His quick beating heart is nearly the only sign of the fight that just happened– Takiishi's body is pristine except for a smear of dirt across his cheek, a misplaced strand of hair, his bruised and bloody knuckles. Endo wants to put teeth to Takiishi's wrist, his pulse, bite down. Take the part of Takiishi that is thunderously alive into himself and keep it under his tongue.

He turns another corner.

Endo doesn't know where they are, barely knows who they are. He's 19 only just, the two of them running ragged in the streets with the ghosts of Bofurin and Umemiya and Sakura still at their heels, Takiishi's cheek cold against his ear in every memory, breath hot against his skin. The lingering echo of Takiishi's voice, Endo's name falling from his lips like a blessing, is still vibrating through Endo’s veins.

Endo gets them crouched behind a jagged piece of metal sheeting with their backs up against a chain link fence. Takiishi's pulse flutters under his grip and he doesn't pull his arm away and Endo wants to scream, laugh, tear at flesh with his teeth and nails. There's blood in his mouth from a stray punch during the fight and Takiishi's body is a burning heat next to him. He sucks in a breath and almost starts laughing. Has to bite at his own tongue to hold the sound back.

The flashlights from the cops bounce around them. cast them in strange shadows. Endo waits, counts the beats of Takiishi's pulse as it steadies. The nearest cop turns away from them, following the fading voice of his partner.

The night falls quiet after that in a strange way, the silence somehow loud after all that noise. Endo waits until the world fades back in— the chirp of cicadas, the sticky summer breeze rattling the metal fence, the faint sounds of people a few streets over, laughing, spilling drunk from a bar. He sucks in humid air through his teeth and turns to Takiishi to scan him for bruises and cuts, identify hurts he can fix until Takiishi gets bored with it, with Endo, and pushes him away, pushes to his feet, leaves.

Endo turns to Takiishi and finds Takiishi looking at him, the corner of his mouth turned up almost like he's—

smiling.

"Takiishi?" Endo whispers.

Takiishi lunges at him and the kiss is sudden, violent, more bite or punch than anything else. Takiishi misjudged the distance between them— or maybe he thought Endo would flinch away and he would have to move forward. Maybe he just didn't care if it hurt. Maybe he thinks tenderness should be violent.

It doesn't matter.

It hurts, when Takiishi kisses him, the prettiest pain Endo has ever felt. It hurts and tastes like iron and honey, the sickly sweet copper of blood. The chain link bites into his back, Takiishi's nails bite into his cheeks, his jaw, holding him steady. Takiishi swings a leg over Endo's thighs and is suddenly in Endo's lap. The weight of Takiishi's presence pressed against the front of Endo's body overwhelms Endo, all his defenses broken down, his ribcage cracked open, his heart laid bare. Takiishi kisses him like it's a new function he’s just discovered on an old toy, his tongue and teeth curious and sweet.

Endo trembles, lifts up into the kiss— into Takiishi— like a prayer, his whole body aching. He keeps his hands by his sides, fingernails digging hard into the dirt, sharp rocks pressing into his palms. He's not sure if he's trying to dig his own grave or dig his way out of one. He's not sure if he's allowed to touch back. He wants to. God, does he want to.

Takiishi kisses him bloody.

Endo wouldn't want it any other way.

That's the first time it happens.

Three days later they take the bullet train back to Tokyo, to the apartment that Endo rents them near Shimokitazawa station so they can have their fill of fashion and art and music and live shows and cigarettes after fights. Takiishi falls asleep on the shinkansen, his face so soft at rest that Endo has to look away. He can't let himself see Takiishi that gentle for more than a moment at a time, has to approach it with sidelong glances, Takiishi's figure cut in relief, a shrouded statue. Something about it presses on a deep ache— a bruise in Endo's lungs, at the base of his heart. Takiishi's head lolls forward and then sideways and he settles himself on Endo's shoulder with the softest sound falling from his parted lips.

Endo lifts his eyes and watches the cities form and disappear at lightning speed outside the train window, as though they are being summoned by the errant hand of a god, disposed of just as easily. He imagines a car crash in slow motion, the way he would lift his hands from the wheel, the way he would turn to Takiishi, arms up to try to cover Takiishi's face, the way Takiishi's wide fathoms-deep eyes would look at him, the sudden relief of the sharp rain of glass.

Takiishi wakes at Tokyo station, blinking slowly at Endo like a cat. He yawns and stretches, licking at his lips. Endo gathers their things, ushers Takiishi off the train, hand hovering near the small of his back, almost touching, the air between them an aching loss.

The Chuo line is crowded and Takiishi turns from the press of people, the damp heat of them, presses his nose into the divot of Endo's collarbones and inhales. Endo's wearing the cologne Takiishi seems to like best, once commenting good after sniffing Endo's pulse point curiously. Endo doesn't move. Counts up to ten and back down again to calm himself. When his heart won't stop racing, he counts back up and then down, again and again, chastising himself with each repetition. Takiishi presses the tip of his nose into Endo's skin and Endo lets the hand that's been hovering rest gently on Takiishi's lower back, narrows his eyes at a man who is too close for his comfort, too close to Takiishi. The man stumbles away and Endo hums, content. The space around them widens with each eye he catches and Takiishi's body relaxes slightly against his.

They switch from the Chuo to the Odakyu line, get off at Higashi-Kitazawa and Takiishi stops outside the ticket gates, looks at Endo impassively. Endo waits a second then understands, laughs as he turns around and bends down so Takiishi can clamber onto his back, locking his arms lightly around Endo's neck.

"Ten minutes too long of a walk?" Endo asks cheerily, adjusting Takiishi's hips against his as he stands, lifting Takiishi easily. Takiishi doesn't say anything in response. His hands twitch as Endo adjusts his grip and his thumb presses into Takiishi's inner thigh. Endo makes sure he's got a hold on their bag before he starts to walk, veers past a group of chattering girls in school uniforms, who shriek when he winks at them, and a businessman who seems stuck between sneering in disgust and studiously avoiding Endo's eyes.

Endo heads off down the side road that will take them home. Takiishi makes a small sound and Endo eases his steps so Takiishi doesn't jostle as much.

"The Chiyoda line had too long of a wait– was going to take extra time, even though the walk is shorter from that station." Endo says, in the way of conversation, in the way he has where he is a glass overfilled around Takiishi, always spilling, always everywhere all at once, "I figured you wanted a bath, so I went for this one but—"

"I'm hungry." Takiishi interrupts.

"Want a burger?" Endo asks, debating the merits of that or a quick conbini bento.

Takiishi nuzzles Endo's ear in answer, which means he's more tired and hungry than Endo realized. He's softer around the edges when he's like this, which makes Endo want to grant Takiishi's every whim in a different sort of way. Endo slows his steps more, so Takiishi doesn't get shifted with his movements as much, and then stops to think. He vaguely wonders if Takiishi will bite his ear for stopping, the way he sometimes does when it's like Endo doesn't deserve, or Takiishi doesn't have the energy for, a raised hand. There's a Burger King by the South exit of their station, not Takiishi's favorite but it might do— although there should be a Mos Burger in between the two stations, slightly out of the way but won't impede them too much. Also not Takiishi's favorite, but closer to home overall.

Endo detours and knows he's made the right decision when Takiishi sees the burger joint and wriggles off Endo's back, walks right into the restaurant and up to the order screen without waiting to see if Endo has followed.

Endo watches Takiishi eat, lick salt off his fingers. Endo drums his leg, chews on the straw of his soda. Takiishi's pretty when he eats. Pretty all the time. Endo slides his foot out and rubs at Takiishi's covered ankle. Takiishi kicks him hard in the shin without even pausing in eating his fries. Endo laughs, delighted. Steals a fry and gets a smack to the hand.

When Takiishi is done, Endo gathers their trash to throw away and returns to an empty table, peers out the second story window to see Takiishi already outside, waiting for Endo at least momentarily. Endo doesn't push his luck, watches the streetlights reflect off Takiishi's hair for only a moment before he takes the stairs down two at a time to reach him.

Endo stretches as he exits the building, cocks his head toward the road they need to go to, and waits a second. Takiishi holds out his arms. Endo lets Takiishi climb back onto his back, something content purring low in his chest as he revels in the closeness, the warm heat of Takiishi against him, the long leanness of his muscles, the strength in his thighs.

It's late by the time they get home, so Endo strips down while Takiishi soaks in the tub, watches Takiishi watch him as he showers perfunctorily, making sure to use the soap Takiishi likes best, scent of cedar and bergamot. He shakes out his hair as he dries his body and Takiishi frowns as stray drops land on his skin. Endo smiles, wraps a towel around his waist, and sits on the shower stool so that he can wash Takiishi's hair for him. He dries it for him too, when Takiishi is out of the bath– revels in the touch until Takiishi wriggles out of his grip, bored with Endo combing through the long since dry locks and letting his fingers gently brush against Takiishi's skin. Endo cleans up briefly, sets the AC, makes sure the doors are locked, orders some groceries for delivery tomorrow, and starts the wash.

Takiishi is under the futon covers, idly playing with the switch Endo got them, half-asleep. His eyes flick to Endo. Endo pretends, as Takiishi tosses the game console aside, that Takiishi was waiting for him to come to bed before he went to sleep. Endo picks the switch up off the tatami floor, turns it off and places it in its charger, and then he flicks off the lights and makes his way under the covers.

Takiishi falls asleep quickly, the way he does, like he has simply decided he has had enough of being awake and won't be anymore and the world bends to his will the same way Endo does.

Endo lets his eyes adjust to the dim. Takiishi's body is hot next to his and Endo wants to reach out and touch. He shifts, just slightly, flexes his hand. He watches Takiishi sleep until he can't take the gentleness anymore. He closes his eyes and sees Takiishi looking at him with something like hunger in his eyes, feels the fence against his back and Takiishi over his thighs. Endo's lips tingle. His mouth aches. He opens his eyes and stares at the ceiling, doesn't dare look at Takiishi again. It's too much, too much, too much.

Takiishi makes a soft sound as though, even in sleep, he knows Endo's attention is off him.

Endo's eyes snap to him instantly.

Takiishi is still asleep, a stray strand of extension brushing his lips, furrowing his brow. Endo tucks it away, tries not to touch skin. He looks at the curve of Takiishi's mouth. Touches his own mouth, running his fingertip over his bottom lip, his teeth, the tip of his tongue. He wants to touch Takiishi's mouth but doesn't. He was given a gift and he won't take advantage. It was a one time thing. Takiishi wanted to try something, did. Now Endo will live forever knowing what Takiishi tastes like and how soft and hot his mouth is and—

Endo closes his eyes.

It was a one time thing, he reminds himself.

The next day bleeds into the next bleeds into the next into a week and Takiishi does not kiss Endo again and of course he doesn't. Endo is fine with that, with his one time blessing.

He is fine with it, although sometimes Takiishi will stretch in their kitchen, long pale limbs, black ink, the trace of his veins under his skin and Endo's mouth aches. His teeth long to bite. He wants to pretend there is a world where Takiishi stretches and turns to him and holds his hand out and Endo is allowed to touch. To kiss. To hold Takiishi and learn the shapes of the bones under his skin.

Endo smokes a cigarette like he's being chased, leaning out their open balcony door, letting the filter burn down so far that it hurts his fingers, is hot against his bitten lips.

Takiishi doesn't kiss him again and Endo aches with a want that has always lived in his marrow since before he knew what want was and August breaks hot.

Endo wakes to sunlight through the blinds, dim and dreary like a rainstorm is threatening. He doesn’t move, looks at the bare space next to him where Takiishi should be. There is a sound in their kitchenette and he rolls slightly to peer into it. Takiishi is wearing one of Endo’s shirts, too long on him, brushing the tops of his thighs, creamy and muscular. There's a bruise on one, from a fight or an errant knock against a table Endo does not know. The bruise crawls up under the white of the shirt.

Endo's toes curl in the futon. He exhales as quietly as he can.

The kettle bubbles, clicks off. Takiishi's head tilts before he reaches out for it and then he pours, slow and careful, into the mug that must be in front of him. Pour over coffee then, the instant kind. Takiishi’s unused to being the one to make it. Endo is the one who makes it for him. Endo watches his shirt on Takiishi's body, the hem, a stray thread. Watches Takiishi’s long slender fingers. The polish on them is chipped. Endo will repaint them for him— or take him to get those gel nails he liked. They last better in a fight anyway.

He smiles when Takiishi goes to remove the coffee filter from the mug and it drips on the counter. Takiishi stares impassively at the spot on the counter, the filter continuing to drip, and Endo watches him in profile. Takiishi tosses the coffee grounds and filter into the sink instead of the burnable trash. Tilts his head, shifts slightly, and removes a second filter. Endo makes a strange soft involuntary sound when he realizes there are two mugs. Takiishi turns and Endo freezes, sure his mug will be tossed in the sink or that Takiishi will just leave it there, on the counter, leave both cups, refuse to drink his own.

Takiishi’s face does a thing like a smile, the corner of his mouth quirking up, an unexpected softness around his eyes.

Endo’s heart stutters, a jumped beat, a missed one.

Takiishi picks up both cups of coffee and walks over, folds his legs and falls to sit cross-legged on the futon next to Endo. Endo had wanted to buy a western style bed, a thick mattress. Takiishi had smacked him upside the head. Endo likes it now though, curling into the futons with Takiishi. Curling into their bed. The bed, he corrects himself. He tries not to think of it as their bed. It makes something achy and possessive wake up in his chest, scratch at his ribcage, a howl caught in his throat.

He props himself up on his elbow, takes the mug that Takiishi offers him.

“Thank you.” Endo says, his voice creaking with sleep.

Takiishi, cupping his own mug in his hands, releases it briefly to flick Endo on the forehead, a barely there touch. He does that now. Recently. After— everything. He touches Endo sometimes with these soft glancing touches. Not to say that he has changed or that they still don’t fight or that Endo is allowed to push, cross, boundaries that have existed since they were small. Not that Endo doesn’t love Takiishi’s hands on him always and any way they are given, the gentle grace of violence a blessing. Two days ago Endo purposefully blocked the door so that Takiishi would hit him, end up on the ground with him, Endo’s hand threaded into Takiishi's hair, Takiishi’s long fingers on his throat. Endo’s lip is still split at the corner from the first punch. He tongues at it now to feel the familiar sting. Takiishi’s eyes flick to his mouth.

Endo takes the moment to let his eyes trail over Takiishi.

Endo likes Takiishi like this. Of course he likes Takiishi with his extensions fresh and his eyeliner on and blood on his knuckles– but Endo also likes Takiishi here, like this, in their home and just Endo’s. Pale and shadowed from sleep, hollows under his eyes, and light barely-there freckles dotting the bridge of his nose. His lips are chapped and Endo wants to put lip balm on them for him. Endo’s shirt slides on Takiishi's frame, revealing his collarbone, a bruise.

Endo stills his hands and their need to reach out, touch.

He takes a sip of coffee.

Takiishi mirrors the motion, frowns slightly.

“Endo Yamato.” He says the way he does, like Endo’s name must be said in full or it won’t be right. “The coffee is better when you make it.”

Endo cannot stop himself anymore than he can stop the smile. He reaches out to touch. He moves slowly, the way you approach a cornered animal or your own grief. Takiishi doesn't pull away, doesn't smack Endo's hand out of the air. He watches it curiously as it crosses the invisible barrier into his space. Endo brushes some of Takiishi’s hair back for him, runs his fingers through it, untangling a lock.

“Sorry,” Endo says with a laugh, “you should have woke me.” He takes another sip. It’s true, the coffee is just this side of too bitter. Takiishi seeped it too long. Endo takes another sip. “I like it.” He says. He likes it because Takiishi made it. “What do you want to do today?” He asks and then continues, not really expecting a response. “Let me fix your nail polish for you. Oh, and a new bubble tea place opened by the station, so I want to take you there. And I want a new book. You liked that author I got last time, didn’t you? There was another—”

“Let’s get in a fight.” Takiishi says, cutting Endo off.

Endo relishes in it, the words that slice through his sentences like a knife. Takiishi is still more likely to answer with a look, a tilt of the head, a fist— but he speaks more often now and Endo drinks up each word.

“Regular old school brawl or Umemiya protect the town type fight?” Endo asks, cracking his neck as he speaks. Not that it matters to him, just to know what Takiishi wants so that he can deliver.

Takiishi shrugs in response. Takes another sip of his coffee and looks down at it with a small frown, nose curling up slightly.

“We’ll see what happens.” Endo says. “If you need to, you can fight me.” He presses up, off his elbow onto his hand, and gets into Takiishi's space, amazed at his own daring. Takiishi’s eyes flash up to him. “I’m yours, if you need.” Endo says and means all the thousand things that could mean all at once. He laughs, before the moment can linger, sinks back down and closes his eyes. "I'll remake your coffee—" he starts to say and jerks when Takiishi’s hand glances against his jaw, too light to be a hit.

He blinks open his eyes in confusion as the pad of Takiishi's thumb presses against the corner of Endo's mouth. Takiishi is looking at Endo's lip with strangely attentive eyes, a glimmer somewhere in them that Endo does not know and cannot place and wants to understand, desperately. Takiishi rubs Endo's lower lip, tugs it down a little. Endo's heart thuds painfully, high up in his throat. Takiishi does this more often now too, these touches that linger. Touches that hurt in how gentle they are. It’s a unique stinging pain that takes ages to fade, the brush of Takiishi’s skin against Endo’s. There's something distinctly purposeful in these new touches. They make Endo’s skin crawl with want.

“Does it hurt?” Takiishi asks and brushes his thumb against the cut again. This too is new— since Bofurin, since the first time Takiishi said Endo's name. This is new and Endo doesn’t understand it. Doesn't understand this new fascination with pain, Endo’s pain, with the prospect of Endo in pain. With the fact that Takiishi is causing or has caused that pain.

Endo looks at Takiishi helplessly.

It doesn’t hurt, he wants to say, not once have you ever made me hurt.

“No.” He manages.

Takiishi makes a sound of consideration, his fingers trailing down Endo's jaw, his neck, touching Endo like lit matches or burning wax, sweet pleasure pain. Endo shivers. Takiishi lifts to his knees as his fingers trace Endo’s throat, his tattoo, slide to either side of it, gentle gentle, and squeeze. Soft and then harder, eyes locked on Endo’s. It's not enough to cut off Endo's air flow, but it's a promise of it. Endo can hear his heart in his ears. He can hear his blood move. His lashes flutter as he gazes up at Takiishi, looking down at him.

“Do you want it to?” Takiishi asks.

“I don’t know.” Endo manages to whisper. His coffee cup shakes in his hands.

Takiishi looks at him.

“I do.” He says and releases Endo's throat.

Three nights later Endo wakes up in the dead of night, confused, body careening toward fight or flight before relaxing instantly, subconsciously, like it recognizes the weight on top of him as Takiishi before he fully has the thought.

"Ch—Takiishi?" He mumbles, catching Takiishi's given name before it falls out of his mouth and he gets a knee to the stomach. "What's wrong—"

Takiishi kisses him.

Endo makes a sound like he's been punched. He feels like he's been punched. Takiishi bites at Endo’s lips, licks at his teeth, threads his hand into Endo's hair and pulls. Endo arches up into it, twisting his head back to try to relieve some of the pressure. Takiishi pauses, a silent question.

"S'good." Endo manages to gasp.

Takiishi pulls harder. He scrapes his teeth over Endo's jaw, bites his chin, sucks at his skin. Endo's hands lift from the sheets before he means them to, move to Takiishi's hips, his slim waist. Takiishi pauses and Endo counts the wet hot breaths against his neck, fingers twitching. Takiishi removes Endo's hands from his waist and pins them under his knees, leaning forward, the bones in Endo's wrists creaking. Endo moans. Takiishi smiles like a wild thing before he sinks his teeth into the skin over Endo's jugular and sucks harshly. Endo's toes curl and he can’t stop the sound he makes. Takiishi leaves a bruise on Endo's neck that Endo couldn't cover even if he wanted. He wouldn't want to. He would never hide anything Takiishi gives him.

Takiishi moves to suck at a new patch of skin and Endo's hands are freed, but he doesn't try to touch again. He clutches at the sheets, the softness of them a strange counterpoint to everywhere Takiishi is touching him. Takiishi's legs are spread wide, thighs pressing the bottom of Endo's ribcage as he works him over, licking at the throbbing skin like he wants to bite harder, draw the blood not just to the surface but out to spill over. Endo's dick jerks pitifully, trapped between them, crushed to his body by Takiishi's weight. Takiishi pulls back to inspect him in the dim light. He runs his tongue over his teeth, eyes on Endo's neck, and his face is feral, pleased.

"Takiishi—" Endo begs, not sure what he's asking for.

Takiishi slides a hand up Endo's chest, presses his thumb into the bruise, hand closing lightly, cutting off Endo's air. Endo tries to moan, the sound stutters, caught in his throat. Takiishi kisses him again, sugar sweet, then stands up and leaves before Endo can react.

The bathroom light flicks on and the room resettles into darkness as the door closes, latches behind Takiishi.

Endo pants, staring at the ceiling. He lifts one hand and touches the aching mess Takiishi has left of his neck. When he does he makes a broken involuntary sound that startles him. He pauses, breathing heavily, air harsh in his lungs. There's no sound from the bathroom, all he can hear is the horribly loud beating of his own heart. He presses on the bruise harder. God. His skin is still wet from Takiishi's mouth. He loses all sense of reason, shoves his other hand into his pajama pants and jerks himself off, biting on his shirt to muffle the sound, pressing harder-harder-harder on the bruise on his neck.

He comes quickly, with a stifled shout.

Takiishi still fights like a God. Watching him makes Endo think he understands all the old myths, Gods down from Heaven, the horrible wrenching want of falling in love. Takiishi fights and Endo thinks ah and yes and I will follow you until my soul is in tatters.

It’s not a fight that’s a challenge. It can’t be. It wasn’t for Endo so how could it be for a God? Takiishi cracks his neck after he drops the last guy, one hit that barely takes any effort on his part, and then he looks at Endo. When their eyes meet he does something astonishing– he smiles. It’s barely there, but it is there. Like a secret or a memory. It’s exquisite. It feels like teeth sinking into skin.

Endo’s exhale is shaky.

Takiishi walks toward him like he’s prey. Endo only just stops himself from falling to his knees. He manages, until Takiishi gently swipes at his lip with a thumb, catching a stray drop of blood, pressing in on a bruise. The ground is unforgiving on Endo's knees but he never wants to be forgiven, if it means this. If this is sin then he'll bathe in it, be baptized in it.

“Endo Yamato.” Takiishi says, each syllable rounded and pretty. He says Endo’s name often enough, and enough time has passed since the first time it dripped like blood from his lips, that Endo should be used to it. He’s not though. He’s not, he’s not, he's not. “Let’s go home.”

"Yes." Endo says. As though he would ever say anything else to a request from Takiishi. As though he could ever say anything else, when the option is Takiishi turning and leaving, leaving him, walking away. Endo's bones ache with the thought of it.

He's barely locked the door when Takiishi's nails bite into his wrist and he tugs, hard enough Endo stumbles and his arm jerks in his socket. Takiishi is strong and it sends a thrill through Endo every time— no matter how much larger he might look, be, Takiishi could fell him with one punch. Endo would want him to. He stumbles after Takiishi, finds himself thrown onto the low couch, Takiishi towering above him, bullying his way between Endo's knees, spreading his thighs.

Endo stares up at him helplessly and goes to make a quip, goes to push himself up to see if it earns him a punch to the face or maybe, just maybe, a kiss. Lucky either way.

"Do you want a bath?" He asks, sitting up slightly. Takiishi pushes him back down hard. Hard enough Endo bounces off the back of the couch. He laughs, breathless, licks at his lips. "Oh it's like that, is it?" He asks, blood singing through his veins. He tries to get up again and Takiishi pushes him harder. Maybe Takiishi still wants to fight, Endo thinks, rocking back against the couch, unable to stop the something like a giggle that spills out of his mouth. Maybe Takiishi will hit him, re-split his lip.

They stare at each other for a moment.

When Takiishi leans down and kisses him it’s like a benediction. At the touch of Takiishi's lips to his, Endo’s body gives up any pretense at fight, melting into the couch.

Takiishi climbs into Endo's lap as they kiss, knees biting at his hips, tongue sliding over Endo's teeth, the roof of his mouth. Endo groans, mind swirling, body twitching up toward Takiishi. Takiishi doesn't respond, just cups Endo's face and brings their mouths together in repeated chaste kisses. It's almost sweet— maybe it would be if they didn't taste like blood and the cigarettes Endo had stolen from some unconscious guy's pocket, an unopened pack, couldn't let them go to waste, even if they were Menthol. His hands lift unconsciously to Takiishi's shoulders to play with the ends of Takiishi's hair, thread into it.

Takiishi shrugs, knocking Endo's wrists off his shoulders and deepens the kiss, licking into Endo's mouth. Endo tries to cup Takiishi's face after a moment, but Takiishi slaps Endo's hand down with a growl, angling Endo's head the way he wants it with a tight hand in Endo's hair. Endo lets out a helpless whimper when the cut on the corner of his mouth tugs. Takiishi licks at it, then licks back into Endo's mouth like he's trying to eat him, swallow him whole.

Endo settles his hand on Takiishi's hip, rubs his thumb on the small patch of skin exposed between his shirt and the waist of his jeans. Takiishi smacks Endo's hand hard enough that it leaves a stinging redness in its wake. Endo hisses at the feeling and then hisses again, jerking as Takiishi's teeth dig harshly into his lower lip in reprimand.

He pants, as Takiishi pulls back and looks down at him.

"I didn't say you could touch me." Takiishi says, voice rougher than Endo has ever heard it.

Endo would have a rebuttal but he doesn't, can't, Takiishi's fingers pressing on the hinge of his jaw to open his mouth, a sweet little burst of pain that steals his words. Takiishi looks at Endo looking up at him helplessly, fingers twitching in the air by Takiishi's body, and then drips spit into Endo's open mouth. Endo moans, shameful heat spiking up his body, so Takiishi does it again, spits into his mouth, licks over Endo's teeth, fucks his tongue back into Endo's mouth with something akin to reckless violence, the same way he throws punches.

Endo loves it.

He digs his fingernails into their couch, hands spasming as Takiishi bites at his tongue. Endo wants to touch. He wants to touch. But he wants to be good. Wants to be so desperately. He wants Takiishi to tie him up so he can't touch, so that Takiishi can use him however he wants, make sure Endo can be good for him, do what he wants Endo to do how he wants him to do it.

He wants Takiishi to spit in his mouth again.

Takiishi threads a hand back into Endo's hair and tugs hard enough a few tears spring to Endo's eyes unbidden, and then Takiishi is kissing under his jaw, dragging his teeth over Endo's pulse point and the bruises he left. Endo makes a weak sound, eyes pinching shut, when Takiishi bites down, sucks at the tender skin. Endo's hard in his jeans, biting against his zipper, trapped under his waistband. He has been since the start of this or before then maybe, half-hard since Takiishi threw the first punch of the fight. He doesn't know, doesn't care, concentrates all his brain power on not touching, not touching, not touching— God, he wants to touch. Wants to not touch and be good for Takiishi.

He whimpers, hips jerking up.

"Stop moving." Takiishi hisses, tugging his hair harder.

Endo's body jerks underneath Takiishi but he stills it best he can, digs his toes into the floor, grips the fabric of the couch, blinks up at Takiishi and trembles. He doesn't move. Barely breathes. Waits.

"Good." Takiishi says after a moment. Endo makes a desperate sound. "Quiet." Takiishi adds.

Endo is quiet. He's quiet and he doesn't touch and he tries so hard not to move, not even when Takiishi starts grinding against him, rolling his hips, and Endo can feel him, can feel him hard against Endo's stomach. He keeps making these soft, almost frustrated, sounds. Endo wants to help. Wants to touch. He lifts up into the next kiss, tongue sliding over Takiishi's teeth. He wants to hold Takiishi still, move for him, do all the work, make Takiishi feel good, make him—

His hand moves without him thinking, holding onto Takiishi's hip, grinding up against him. Takiishi makes a startled sound and then moves, fast as a snake, just as biting, fingernails digging into Endo's tender inner wrist when he pins it on the back of the couch by Endo's head, the other hand yanking Endo's hair hard and exposing the front of his neck like Takiishi is going to tear his throat out with his teeth.

God, Endo would let him. He would let him.

Takiishi's nails dig deeper.

"I said don't touch." Takiishi repeats, breathing stuttered as he lets go of Endo's hair and balances with that hand, using it as leverage to grind against Endo, knocking Endo with his knees to get him to shift slightly which must make the angle better for Takiishi. He sighs and rocks his hips, tilting his head to the side. He's using Endo like all Endo is good for is to rub up against— it doesn't matter if Endo gets off or has any part in it really, like Takiishi hasn't even noticed that Endo is hard too. Endo's never been happier. It's good. It's so good. He whimpers, hips kicking up.

Takiishi pins Endo's forearm to the wall above his head, arm bent awkwardly, wrist twinging at the movement, Takiishi's nails scraping down Endo's forearm. He kisses Endo again, little pants and frustrated sounds trickling into Endo's mouth. Takiishi's nails dig deeper, his other hand grabbing for Endo's other wrist, pinning them both above Endo's head, forearms pressed together. Takiishi lifts up a little, pressing hard enough on Endo's arms to bruise, as he grinds against Endo's stomach. He rolls his head back and Endo watches in wonder, in rapture, at the way Takiishi's teeth dig into his own lower lip, the skin going white. He makes that little frustrated sound in the back of his throat again. Endo loves that sound because he knows he's already making Takiishi feel good, but that sound means that he can make it better. That he can help.

If Takiishi will let him, Endo can help.

"Let me, let me—" Endo pants, "Takiishi, let me, I'll make it good, let me move, let me touch you—" He speaks fast as he can, the words tumbling over each other, trying to get them out before Takiishi shuts him up, hits him or gets up and leaves him for breaking the rules, boring him. "Please," Endo slurs, feeling sort of drunk, hands and arms flexing under Takiishi's grip, "please let me, please please let me, please—"

Takiishi rolls his head down to look at Endo, gaze slightly distant but— considering. Endo waits, shaking with want. Please, he begs with his eyes. Takiishi releases both of Endo's arms. Endo's fingertips prickle, blood surging back into his hands.

"Thank you." He breathes. He moves slowly, lifts a shaking hand and touches Takiishi's knee, isn't immediately slapped off. He smiles, licks his lips, words broken around a soft groan as Takiishi rolls his hips, puts pressure on Endo incidentally, an afterthought if a thought at all. "I'll make it good for you." Endo slides his hand up Takiishi's thigh, catching on tears in his pants, bare skin that makes them both shiver. "Like this." He manages, Takiishi watching the movement of Endo's hand up his thigh analytically. "Please let me." He twists his wrist awkwardly so his fingers are pointing down, so he can cup Takiishi, give him the hard heel of his hand to grind against, the way he does to himself when he wants to make it last, wants to pretend someone else is touching him.

Takiishi's hips kick forward into his hand and he makes a small approving sound. Endo lets out a breath in a shaky exhale, as he slides his other hand up to Takiishi's hip, the small of his back, guiding his movements. Both of Takiishi's hands slide into his hair, tugging it, nails digging into his scalp, and he presses their foreheads together, hot breath across Endo's mouth, half kisses, teeth bumping.

"More." Takiishi hisses after a minute of Endo palming him, rubbing the head of his dick through his zipper. His hand grips Endo's wrist hard, twists it more to get an angle that's better for him. It sends a sharp pain through Endo's forearm, a twinge that he knows he'll feel tomorrow, but the thought is lost as Takiishi groans, low in his throat, grinding against Endo's hand. He makes a frustrated sound again and this one is bad. Endo knows this one like the back of his hand. It's the sound that Takiishi makes half a second before his eyes go blank and Endo tumbles over the edge from someone who brings me things I like to someone who's in my way.

"Let me." Endo begs, twisting at his hand in Takiishi's iron-grip. "Here, let me." Takiishi looks at him for a second, like he doesn't understand what Endo is asking, and then he releases him long enough that Endo can get Takiishi's pants unbuttoned, his zipper down, shove his jeans a little past his hips. He manages to work his hand into Takiishi's boxers, rub a thumb over the wet head of his cock, before Takiishi wriggles slightly then stands. Endo's heart heaves, pulse pounding, dizzy with it. "Wait," he says, "wait, don't leave, I can do better, I can— I swear—"

Takiishi calmly slaps away Endo's grasping hands and takes another step back so he can— take his jeans off, Endo realizes, Takiishi kicking them and his boxers to the side. He climbs back into Endo's lap, guides Endo's hand to his mouth and licks it, spits into his palm. Endo whines, wishing Takiishi was spitting into his mouth again, has no way to vocalize that past the thick flush of shame and arousal that mix in his chest. Takiishi guides Endo's wet hand between his legs to where he's silky and smooth like velvet. He drips over Endo's knuckles in a way that makes Endo's own cock throb and pulse, neglected. He shifts, trying to move Takiishi's shirt, not sure if he wants to see what his hand looks like on Takiishi's dick, not sure he'll be able to survive that, but wanting to, needing to.

"Oh fuck," he manages when he sees what his fingers look like wrapped around Takiishi's cock.

Takiishi grabs him by the jaw and tilts his head up, squeezing so Endo's lips part, and Takiishi can drip spit into his mouth again, his eyes knowing and something like mocking. Endo's grip tightens unconsciously on Takiishi's cock as he moans, licks at his lips. He thinks he should feel shame or confusion or– something, but all he feels is gratitude. Gratitude that he could be taken this high, that he was allowed to stretch his fingers enough to scrape Heaven, that Takiishi is hard and hot in his hand and wants him. Is letting him touch.

Takiishi sighs in something like relief, fucks into Endo's fist, hands sliding into Endo's hair to tug at it, teeth scraping over Endo's temple.

"Tighter." He says. Endo tightens his grip, watches the head of Takiishi's cock poke out of his first, wet and getting wetter, watches as Takiishi fucks his hips faster.

"Oh god," he mumbles, "oh fuck, Takiishi— Takiishi, can I touch myself too, can I—"

Takiishi pulls him into a particularly bruising kiss.

"If you let go of me, you're dead." He hisses into Endo's mouth and it turns Endo on more than he knows how to admit. He moans, nods.

"I won't." He says, "God, fuck, I wouldn't— I— thank you, I—" He slides his hand off of Takiishi's waist and cups himself in his pants, can't figure out how to more than that without breaking the rhythm Takiishi has built up for himself. The AC is whirring but it's quiet and, in the near silence of their apartment, the wet sound of Endo's hand on Takiishi's dick, the sound of their mouths when Takiishi kisses him messily with too much spit, are so loud. Endo's whole body throbs. He squeezes the head of Takiishi's cock each time Takiishi pulls his hips back, rubs at the slit with his thumb.

"Like that." Takiishi commands, tugs at Endo's hair and a starburst of pleasure-pain sings through Endo's scalp. "Don't let go." Takiishi says, the words breaking at the end. Endo shakes his head frantically— no, I wouldn't let go, use me, please use me.

Takiishi makes a startled sound when he comes, his brows pinched like it's something near pain. His whole body goes taught in Endo's lap. Endo wants to cry. He wants to scream. Takiishi's release is hot on his hands, his stomach. He feels burned. He feels baptized. He works Takiishi through it, through the stutters of his hips, squeezing as he draws his hand up to the head of Takiishi's cock to milk out the last drops.

Takiishi shivers, a strange full body thing, then presses his sweaty forehead to Endo's, knocks them together lightly, then harder. Endo whines without meaning to, aching and wanting, his sticky hand cupping Takiishi's softening dick.

Takiishi looks at him in this half-analytical way, like he hasn't decided if Endo is worth his time yet. Endo wants to be worth his time. He lifts his hand that's covered with Takiishi's cum to his mouth, licks at it, watches Takiishi watch him. He can't help himself. Can't help it when he whimpers pitifully, hips kicking up into his cupped hand, as the taste of Takiishi bursts on his tongue, a new part of Takiishi he's never been allowed to touch, taste, see before. He whines, looks at Takiishi's soft pretty dick, his smooth muscled thighs.

Takiishi moves, quick and methodical, grabbing at Endo's flannel and pulling it roughly off his shoulder, nails scraping at one of his tattoos, the raised ink from where Takiishi pressed too deep because it was one of the first ones he gave Endo.

Endo's mouth is bitter and salty and his whole body feels like it's on fire. He ruts against his hand, sucks his fingers that taste like Takiishi, rolling his tongue around them, between them.

"Endo Yamato." Takiishi says, right in Endo's ear, like his name by itself is a command. Endo wants to listen, wants to make Takiishi give him that look he does sometimes, that one where it's like he sees Endo, sees him for real, and is glad that it is Endo standing next to him. "Come." Takiishi breathes and then he bites down on Endo's shoulder hard enough Endo feels the skin break.

Endo tips over the edge without a word, his mouth caught open in a silent gasp.

That was a one time thing, Endo tells himself when he shakily draws a bath for Takiishi after, showers perfunctorily while Takiishi soaks. A one time thing.

He wishes he could have touched more. Had been allowed to touch more. Allowed to take his time. He wishes he could have undressed Takiishi. Not that there's any part of Takiishi he hasn't seen before but— he wants to have touched. Bruised Takiishi's body in a new way. Chased a flush down his chest, between his legs. Left a mark on the smooth unblemished expanse of his skin, traced Takiishi's ribs with his tongue, his teeth, been able to touch every part of him, the arches of his feet, the soft tender space behind his knees.

When Endo crawls into the futon that night, Takiishi impatiently plucks at his shirt until he removes it, and then traces the wound his teeth left on Endo's shoulder. He falls asleep like that, his fingers pressing softly against the bite.

A one time thing, Endo reminds himself as sleep sinks claws into him and tugs, that was just a one time thing.

Only it's not a one time thing.

They get in a fight with some gang of guys a few days later, a fight that Takiishi seems proud of Endo for having found, almost a challenge, close enough that Takiishi has that hunger in his eyes, something like interest sparked.

Endo finds himself on his back on their kitchen floor that night, hard tile against his scalp, his vision blurry and everything Takiishi.

"Endo Yamato." Takiishi says.

Endo can't speak. His throat is bruised and his jaw is sore and it's a fascinating feeling, being marked from Takiishi all the way inside, bitter salt on the back of his tongue. He blinks up at Takiishi feeling dazed, body trembling, hand fisted and unmoving around his own pulsing cock. Takiishi shifts where he's sat on Endo's chest, a burst of oxygen before he’s constricting Endo's breathing again with his weight. Endo kitten licks the tip of Takiishi's cock, resting against his lower lip, finds a new burst of salt on his tongue.

He opens his mouth wider.

Takiishi slides his dick back into Endo's mouth, pinches his nose shut like an afterthought. Endo's eyes roll back and he comes choking on Takiishi's cock.

It feels like heaven.

It is heaven.

The summer swells with heat and bursts into fall and it happens again and then again, a fight, frantic breaths, Takiishi's body against his in some way, Takiishi the only light Endo can see, dark nights and red hair like flame and the sweet sweet taste of blood and cheap beer, cigarette smoke, lemon honey candies that Takiishi favors on his lips and his tongue. Takiishi leaving new bruises to cover the ones that Endo gets in fights, outnumber them.

It feels endless, insurmountable, unsustainable.

They get into fights in a way they haven't since high school, a constant demand, a constant want, urge, need.

It's like Takiishi is chasing something again, someone.

He disappears. He returns. He kicks at their walls. He kicks at Endo, shoves him. Endo catches each punch, whispers thank you, curls into his back and isn't pushed away. Endo starts to crave fights for new reasons. He wants to get into fights now, fights with anyone, everyone, will pick up an errant word and return it with a punch. Fights mean they can kiss. Fights mean being blessed by Takiishi's touch, his long nimble fingers, his hot wretched mouth. Fights mean, if Endo is lucky, he'll be allowed to touch back. Allowed to make Takiishi come with his mouth or his fingers. Fights mean Takiishi pinning Endo's arms down, tying them in his own flannel, biting Endo's lip hard enough it bleeds, using Endo like Endo is his, a thing he owns.

Endo is a thing he owns.

Endo loves it. It's a sweet sickening shame, when Takiishi tells him to get off and watches, seemingly bored, when Takiishi gets up right after he comes and leaves Endo there, gasping and aching, tells him to deal with it himself or tells him he's not allowed to deal with it or, most achingly, when Takiishi deigns to touch Endo too.

It hurts.

It's perfect.

Endo wakes to Takiishi moving around in the apartment. He blinks blearily at the ceiling, trying to reorient himself to place and time. He's overheated, sweaty, still under the kotatsu with his bangs sticking to his damp forehead. He stretches and pushes himself to standing. The sky outside is dark, the air in the apartment cold. The lights aren't on in the main room because Endo didn't turn them on, fell asleep when there was still weak light from the sun trailing across the tatami.

He yawns as he walks toward the sounds, finds Takiishi dressed and trying on rings, holding them up like he's inspecting gems, sliding the silver pieces onto his fingers haphazardly.

"Going somewhere?" Endo asks, cracking his neck, skimming his fingers over their matching tattoo as he stretches out a shoulder.

Takiishi doesn't answer, brushes past him in search of the shoes he wants from the shoe cupboard. Endo pads after him, grabbing a cashmere scarf that will match what Takiishi is wearing.

"It's cold," he says, as Takiishi sits at the edge of the genkan, sliding on a boot with a heel, zipping up the side. He holds his foot out as though inspecting, reaches for the other shoe. "Let me put this on you." Endo says, crouching behind him and reaching forward with careful fingers. Takiishi bats his hands away, nearly knocks the scarf onto the ground. "Hey." Endo complains without heat. He waits until Takiishi is standing and faces him, eyes narrowed. Endo wraps the scarf carefully around Takiishi's neck, adjusting strands of hair. "Your eyeliner looks nice." He adds, feeling a bit put out that Takiishi didn't wake Endo to do it for him. "Have fun." He says, biting down where are you going, who are you going with.

It doesn't matter, really. Takiishi always comes back to him, in the end, and Endo likes to pretend, lets himself believe on some days, that it's because Takiishi likes him, wants him, would kill for him the same way Endo would, has, for him.

Endo hums to himself and pulls back after Takiishi's scarf is adjusted to his satisfaction.

Takiishi leaves without a word or reaction.

Endo wakes up with a sudden sort of shock to his system, like cold water thrown into his face— someone's eyes are on me.

Takiishi is sitting at the edge of their futon.

"You're home." Endo slurs, trying to orient himself to being awake for the second time that day. "I left the bath warmed for you, let me— did you lock the door? Do you need food?" He pushes himself up to sitting, shakes out his hair, rubs sleep from his eyes. He lifts his hands to Takiishi's scarf and Takiishi—

Takiishi leans forward and kisses him.

Softer than anything, snowflake light, barely there before it melts.

Endo rocks back from it like he's been punched.

Takiishi leans forward and kisses him again. It's the softest kiss they've ever shared, slow and sleepy, like Takiishi hasn't decided if he wants to be awake yet—only that's not right because Endo was the one sleeping and Takiishi just got home, is still in his coat and the scarf Endo put on him. Takiishi licks into Endo’s mouth almost tentatively, tastes like mint leaves and lemon and shochu. His skin is cold. His nose presses into Endo's cheek. Endo doesn't have a name for what it is. How it makes him feel. His hands, frozen in the air, tremble. He lets them float to the futon as he sinks into the kiss. He doesn't touch, isn't sure if he is allowed. He just lets Takiishi kiss him this new way, all sweet nothings, the softest flicks of his tongue.

Takiishi makes a gentle noise that sounds like Endo's name, slides fingers down Endo's arm as he kisses him, over his elbow, to his wrist. He brings Endo's hands to his face. Endo's fingers shake as he slides them into Takiishi's hair, feeling the silky strands weave around them. He slides a hand to the back of Takiishi's neck, under his scarf, and rubs at the base of his skull. Takiishi's hands leave Endo and Endo braces for a hit, pulls back a little. He opens his eyes to find Takiishi chasing him for a kiss with his eyes still closed. Endo can't breathe. Takiishi opens his eyes with a frown, his hands off Endo so that he can undo the buttons of his jacket, tug at his scarf to get it off, not so that he can push Endo away.

Takiishi leans forward, half crawling into Endo's lap, and kisses Endo again.

Endo tilts into it, tilts Takiishi's head a little with gentle pressure and Takiishi lets him, cedes control as Endo licks at the seam of Takiishi's lips. Takiishi lifts up on his knees so that he can take the coat off fully, Endo helping him, and then his hands slide down Endo's chest, plucking at his sleep shirt. Endo whines, low in his throat, trying to tug Takiishi closer in his lap. Takiishi's hands leave him again and Endo hears the clink of his dungarees buckle, Takiishi wiggling in the kiss as he shoves them down, falling forward onto Endo, with a little oof, clothes caught around his waist. Endo feels as though he is in a strange dream. His hands slide down Takiishi's torso, his hips, then his cold thighs, help him push the denim down his calves, past the thick socks he is wearing, and off.

Takiishi rolls onto his back, socked foot tracing on Endo's calf, his thigh, as he pulls Endo with him, over him, something that hasn't happened before, the weight of Endo pressing into Takiishi, holding him down. Takiishi shifts so that Endo slides into the cradle of his hips, their bodies pressing together as Takiishi arches his back. He's hard. Endo's hand flies to press into his hipbone, slides to the small of his back, slipping under his t-shirt as Takiishi moves his hips again.

"Takiishi," Endo manages. Takiishi doesn't respond, tilts his head back in offering until Endo kisses down his jaw, sucks softly at his pulse point, scrapes it with his teeth. Endo is careful. He's never left a mark on Takiishi. He goes to move on but Takiishi grabs at his hair, holds him steady. Endo kisses, sucks softly then harder, licking at the silver chain of Takiishi’s necklace, pushing it out of the way. Takiishi sighs, a dreamy sound that surprises Endo. He sucks a little harder and Takiishi makes a sound of encouragement, his socked foot trailing up Endo's thigh before his leg wraps around Endo's hips.

Endo doesn't know what to do, think. He has never felt anything that has hurt like this. He pushes his luck, traces the tip of his tongue on Takiishi's skin, drags his mouth up and kisses Takiishi how he's always wanted to. Slowly. Deeply. He waits to get pushed away. For the gentleness to bore Takiishi or for the intimacy to become too much, a weakness that will lead to frustration, to impatience. He traces Takiishi's hipbone, rubs at it with his thumb, reveling in the expanse of skin he is being allowed to touch.

Takiishi's hands slide down his back as Endo licks at the roof of his mouth. He makes a soft sound of surrender that undoes Endo completely. Takiishi trails his hands up under Endo's shirt, tracing his ribs, tracing over a particularly nasty scar from a deep gash Endo had gotten during a fight, a piece of glass hidden in an opponent's hand.

"More." Takiishi says, when Endo pauses, nosing at his cheek, his throat. He tips his head back obligingly as Endo licks over his Adam's apple, presses a kiss there, slides his mouth up and licks at Takiishi's chin, his lower lip. "More." Takiishi says, sliding a hand up to tug at Endo's hair, pull their mouths back together. His other hand pushes at Endo's shirt, like he wants it off but can't be bothered to break the kiss to accomplish it.

"Can I—?" Endo whispers, pushing at the shirt Takiishi is wearing. When Takiishi nods, Endo sits up, tugging Takiishi with him, stripping him of the outer shirt, the thin black t-shirt underneath, pressing him back down and helping him lift his hips to get his briefs off. Takiishi shivers, spread out on the futon under him, pink high on his cheeks, hard dusky pink nipples, barbell piercings. Endo wants his mouth on them, he wants to— "Let me—" He gasps, words cut off as Takiishi lifts a hand and strokes knuckles over Endo's tented sleep boxers, rubs at the damp spot idly with his thumb.

"Off." Takiishi says simply, hand falling back by his head. Endo strips himself of his shirt, throws it without caring where it lands and takes off his boxers. Takiishi watches him, eyes tracing over Endo's muscles, his hard cock that's bobbing against his stomach, the tattoos on his arms, his chest. Takiishi's eyes are like a touch and Endo can feel them on his skin as they lift up until they are on Endo's face, and their gazes meet, lock.

Takiishi lifts his arms, hands outstretched.

Endo goes to him. Always, always, he will go. It does not matter where Takiishi points, Endo will go.

Takiishi shivers and Endo lets more of his weight, his body heat, press down. Fumbles for the blankets to tug them over their bodies, even though that will be too hot soon, already he can feel sweat on the back of his neck because the heater is up high the way Takiishi likes it, his fingertips always cold.

Takiishi hums, catches his mouth for a quiet kiss as Endo rubs a hand down his side, back up over his stomach, strokes his nipple with a thumb. Takiishi's breath stutters, his hips lifting up, and their cocks slide against each other. Endo breaks the kiss with a groan. It feels so good. Nothing has ever felt this good, ever will. Endo presses another bruising kiss to the column of Takiishi's throat, trying to get control of his breathing as he rocks their bodies together.

It's gentle. Even when Takiishi scrapes nails down Endo's back, leaves stinging trails, it's so gentle. It’s the gentlest they've ever touched. Endo can't think about it, can't think about anything, lets Takiishi push Endo's head to his chest, bites and licks at the metal, the salt of his skin, trails his kisses back up, grinding down against him.

He reaches down and tries to jerk Takiishi off as he kisses him, rubbing at the head of his cock, but Takiishi slaps his hand out of the way, more perfunctory than mean. Endo rests his forearms on either side of Takiishi's head, fingers tangling in Takiishi's hair and focuses on kissing him. He makes a startled sound when Takiishi wraps his fingers around them, then his other hand too, pumping them with two hands, cupping the heads of their cocks and squeezing.

"Oh God," Endo manages, "Takiishi—"

Takiishi's legs tighten around Endo's hips, arms working between them as Endo thrusts erratically, trying to help. Endo kisses him, kisses him, kisses him. His stomach jumps, thigh muscles tightening as Takiishi does something particularly good with his hands, makes a broken little sound underneath Endo.

"Please." Endo whispers. He wants Takiishi to come, wants to see him spill all over himself, all warm underneath Endo's body and the blankets, flushed and alive and— Endo can't think. He can't think. He makes a sound like a sob, pressing a kiss to Takiishi's neck. Takiishi came home. He came home to Endo, to Endo's bed, to Endo's arms, because he does, he always does, he must— in his own way Takiishi must— he must— "Please." Endo begs.

"Close." Takiishi whispers, the word barely there. "Endo Yamato, kiss me." It's a command but it sounds almost like a plea. Endo licks into his mouth with a moan, runs his tongue over Takiishi's teeth when Takiishi stops kissing back, making that soft soft sound he makes right before he comes, the one Endo knows intimately now, viscerally.

"Please, for me—" Endo says, feeling wild.

Takiishi gasps into Endo's mouth, body going fully tense, as he comes hot between them. Endo feels it on his dick, his stomach, feels the way Takiishi's body goes from trembling to rigid. Endo kisses his open mouth— the corner of it, his teeth, his cheek, anywhere he can— as Takiishi shakes underneath him.

Endo expects Takiishi to let go of himself and Endo, as a byproduct. Expects for the edge to be ripped away from him, his orgasm an afterthought to Takiishi's. He doesn't mind it. Likes it, likes the way Takiishi looks when he comes. He fucks his hips forward into Takiishi's slackening grip with a groan, eyes locked on Takiishi's face. Endo's nearly there, just from the way Takiishi's eyelashes are fluttering as he sucks in a trembling breath. Endo grunts and rolls his hips, presses a kiss to Takiishi's cheekbone while he's still allowed, before the afterglow fades and Takiishi pushes him off. Endo will finish himself off, isn't bothered by it, will maybe get to finish on Takiishi if he's lucky. He loves that, something primal and base inside him lighting up when he sees his cum on Takiishi's skin like a brand. If he's really lucky, he'll get to wipe Takiishi clean after, a warm washcloth over Takiishi's soft flushed skin, Takiishi sleepy and still soft, pliable.

Endo groans at the thought, feeling it low in his gut.

He's so close.

His whole body jerks when Takiishi's grip tightens back up and he starts moving his hand again. He doesn't let go of himself, even though he must be oversensitive, just rubs his softening cock with Endo's, using his own release to keep stroking Endo. His hair is stuck to his forehead, damp with sweat, and he's making little sounds Endo has never heard him make before.

"S'okay—" Endo chokes out, "Takiishi, I can—"

"Pretty." Takiishi says when their eyes meet.

Endo comes so hard he surprises himself, making a choked sound and falling forward into a kiss he wants to give but can't, his body shaking too hard. Takiishi licks at him, teeth and tongue sliding wetly up Endo's cheekbone. Endo presses his forehead to the pillow, pants against Takiishi's temple, groaning as Takiishi works him through his orgasm and then some, wet fingers playing with the head of Endo's cock until it's too much, Endo twitching and whimpering, hips jerking away then pressing forward into the sweet punishment of Takiishi's fingers.

"Endo Yamato." Takiishi reprimands as Endo lets his arms give out and crashes down onto Takiishi, everything wet and sticky between them. Takiishi smacks him for it and Endo lets out a breathless laugh, wriggles down, closer, nosing at Takiishi's throat. Takiishi makes another discontent sound and smacks at Endo's shoulder blades again, but the touch is too light to be a serious reprimand and Takiishi seems too content, tracing the scar on Endo's back again, digging his blunt fingernail into the skin.

When Endo gets his breath back he brings a damp washcloth to clean Takiishi off, then carries him to the bathtub so he can bathe. Takiishi bats Endo out of the bathroom once Endo's cleaned himself, so Endo leaves, remakes the futon while Takiishi bathes and redresses, pulls on a black t-shirt of Endo's, hanging off his collarbones from how, the last time Endo wore it, Takiishi twisted a hand in the neckline of it and pulled.

"Takiishi," Endo says, as he watches Takiishi sip from the mug of water Endo had poured him.

Takiishi yawns once then abandons his water. "Bed." He says, before he crawls into their futon and pulls the blankets up to his shoulders.

"Bed." Endo echoes hoarsely, even though it's so late it's early.

He doesn't sleep.

There is a shift after that, soft, nearly imperceptible at first. They're watching TV and Endo is fiddling with Takiishi's earrings and it's only when Takiishi rolls over to look at him, intones gravely that he's hungry, that Endo realizes he's been touching Takiishi idly for the better part of thirty minutes, playing with his earlobes, tracing the fine bones of his wrists.

Endo tries to write it off in his head as a blip, Takiishi kitten soft under his hands and relaxed because he wanted to be but—

Endo does not have to be bruised bloody before Takiishi touches him, he realizes. It's been subtle, slow. Half of the time they kiss so bloody Endo forgets he wasn't in the first place. All the time it's so consuming that Endo wouldn't know the difference either way. But then, he's laying in their living area, balcony doors slightly open to enjoy an unseasonably warm day, half-reading, half dozing. Takiishi walks over and falls to sitting beside him, long limbs neatly askew.

"Hello." Endo says, putting his book aside.

"Hello." Takiishi says in return, flat inflection, and then he reaches over and pulls Endo's soft dick out of his sweatpants, slapping at Endo's hands when Endo jerks a little in surprise, going to cover himself for reasons he's not even sure of. The lack of adrenaline, the bright sunlight in his eyes, neighborhood noises drifting in through the curtains.

Takiishi looks at him so long and so intently, without saying a word, that Endo squirms, wants to laugh but can't— can only look back at Takiishi, confused and half-hard at this point, wondering and wanting. His fingers twitch near Takiishi's knee and it draws Takiishi's gaze for a moment before he settles himself with his knee knocking against Endo's exposed hip.

Takiishi licks his fingertip and then slowly draws it down Endo's cock, back up, keeps doing it, up and down, until Endo is hard and aching and then Takiishi switches, starts to play with his slit with his thumb, pushing Endo's cock against his belly, rubbing it back and forth, until there is a pool of precum on Endo's stomach, thighs and hips jumping as Takiishi presses his thumbnail into Endo's slit and Endo begs Takiishi to do something— please, anything.

Takiishi doesn't seem to hear him, plays with his balls, sliding up to the skin right below the base of his dick, one finger stroking Endo's perineum then pressing his fingertips flat and pinching Endo's sack, trapping it between the two fingers.

It hurts. Fuck, it hurts so good.

"Hurts—" Endo gasps, twists a little, and the pain stings sharper. He twists again, lets it bloom. Takiishi pinches harder, cupping his balls, and lifts his other hand to squeeze Endo's dick, kindly and unkindly all at once.

"Do you want to come?" He asks, watching as precum drips onto Endo's stomach.

"If you want me to." Endo manages.

"Hm." Takiishi says and releases his balls, lifting up to twist Endo's nipple, fingernails digging in.

Endo comes so hard he sees stars. He gets his vision back in time to watch Takiishi look at his hand quizzically, stick his tongue out to taste. Endo knocks his head back against the tatami, once twice, hair stuck to his forehead with sweat. He tries to catch his breath, tries to reach for Takiishi to return the favor.

Takiishi nudges up under his hand like a cat asking for pets, presses his face to Endo's shoulder and slides Endo's other hand between his legs. He's hard and leaking and fits perfectly in Endo's hand, comes gasping, mouth open and wet against Endo's bicep.

Endo waits for the bite, the sweet sting of teeth.

It never comes.

Takiishi pulls back just slightly, panting, and looks at Endo, watches him like he's waiting for something. His face is tilted just slightly up, hair askew. Endo doesn't know what to do. He doesn’t know what Takiishi wants. He wants to kiss Takiishi, wants to lean down and take. He wants to be found worthy of the taking.

He wants Takiishi to want him.

He waits for Takiishi to move, to lift up just a bit more, so that Endo will know he can kiss him, that Takiishi wants Endo to. He waits, trembling. Takiishi blinks then closes his eyes for a half second. When his eyes flutter back open they're no longer dazed but distracted, like they see through Endo.

He rolls away and pushes himself to standing, walking to the bathroom without looking back.

Endo pants at the ceiling, body shaking, and then curls into himself, blinking back the sting in his eyes. 

Endo goes out and beats someone bloody, his fist connecting with their face, over and over. He feels bone shatter underneath his knuckles. He glances up and Takiishi is watching him, pupils blown, head tilted. Endo opens his mouth, to say what he doesn’t know, but Takiishi turns back to the fight and the moment shatters like a glass, Takiishi sliding away like a spilled drink.

After the fight Endo can feel the tension, the snap and pull of it, the desperate want. He hasn't kissed Takiishi for days, weeks. Wants to so bad that his teeth ache, his lips ache, his tongue is fat with want. Endo digs his teeth into the inside of his cheek and gnaws at it, following Takiishi, the long lean lines of him, the blood smeared on his knuckles.

"Can I kiss you?" Endo asks before they're home, bodying Takiishi up against the brick wall of a bar they frequent, smoke in his eyes, laughter and shouting muddying the air.

We're bloody, he tries to say, bruised. This is what I understand. This is how I understand I am allowed.

"Why?" Takiishi asks and pushes him away.

Endo blocks the door, when Takiishi is leaving to go see, talk to— fuck?, a nasty voice in the back of his head asks— Umemiya.

Hit me, Endo wants to say, don't let me become a hindrance for you, not worth dealing with. I know what you do to things that are in your way. Hit me. Let me still be worth at least that to you.

Takiishi punches Endo so hard his head knocks against the wall and he bites his own tongue. Tastes copper. It makes him laugh, the sound bubbling up and out of his bloody lips. He's still laughing when Takiishi leaves. He slides down the wall. Tastes salt.

He goes out and drinks too much with people who are afraid of him, people who want him and he doesn't care, doesn’t want them back. Endo snarls at them because he can, because he likes that it makes something like fear and arousal spike in their eyes. Endo wants to fuck up. He wants to get fucked up. He takes another shot of something from someone. A girl with too long hair, too the wrong color, too the wrong shape and size all over, crawls over another person to get to him, settles in next to him like she thinks she belongs there. She nuzzles into his neck, bites at him, lifts up and tries to kiss him. He shoves her away and a guy gets in his face about it, doesn't process who Endo is, too drunk. Endo almost bashes his face in but gets bored with it before the fight starts, doesn't see a point to it. He stumbles out of the bar, scraping at his neck like he can get the touch of the girl off of him. It's wrong wrong wrong.

Everything all fucked up.

He gets home late and Takiishi is not there. Takiishi is still not there. Endo punches the wall and his knuckles sting and his head hurts and he is so empty inside and he doesn't understand why. He doesn't understand what he's done wrong, what he did that led him so close to the sun, too close, and now his wings have melted and the ground is hard and cold and unforgiving. He gnaws at his bloody knuckles and then stands.

He locks the door purposefully, collapses on their futon in his outside clothes, lets the alcohol drag him down.

He wakes up with a dry mouth and a headache and the door still locked, solid and unbroken, and Takiishi still not home.

When Takiishi comes home that afternoon his eyes scan Endo carefully. He makes a nasty face when they catch on what must be the smallest mark on Endo's neck, a place that stings from Endo's own nails scratching at it. It's a face Endo knows well, one that says that's mine and you took it. Endo feels a relief so sweet he's nauseous with it. He feels himself breath for the first time in what feels like weeks, all of his muscles relaxing, as Takiishi's nails dig into his scalp, forcing him to bare his throat like he wouldn't have bared it willingly, forcing him to his knees like he wouldn't have fallen to them in supplication in a heartbeat. Takiishi's nails claw at the nape of Endo's neck as he bites bruise after bruise onto Endo's throat.

Endo knows better than to try to touch.

That night Takiishi sleeps fitfully, like he can’t let go of consciousness the way he usually does. He stills, when Endo touches him gently on the small of the back, rolls over and stares at Endo in the dark.

“Endo Yamato.” He says, and then doesn’t say anything else at all.

Two days later, in the kitchen, Takiishi stands next to Endo and looks at him, head tilted, eyes curious. It makes the air feel thick, stick in Endo's throat, his lungs. He doesn't know what Takiishi wants. He looks at Takiishi's small, pink mouth, and wants to kiss it. Looks at his collarbones, one of Endo's old band shirts too big and worn on him, and wants to trace them with his tongue. He wants to take Takiishi back to bed and touch him for hours, so long he turns into a trembling mess, skin sweaty and stained red with Endo's mouth.

Endo doesn't. Doesn't move. Doesn't breathe. Doesn't understand any of the lines any more, the boundaries of their relationship confusing and shifting.

"You hungry?" He tries. "Bored?"

Takiishi looks at him for a long time and then looks away, eyes sliding off Endo like black ice.

Endo doesn't know what to do. He feels manic with it, the world unspooling in his hands. He takes Takiishi to new places, new things, shows where the music is too loud and Takiishi looks at him in displeasure and lets Endo cup hands over his ears, restaurants Endo thinks Takiishi will like, a record store where Takiishi buys a clear blue record that looks like the sky on a burning hot cloudless summer day.

Takiishi smashes it on their bedroom floor purposefully that night and the fractured pieces careen into every corner.

Endo holds one up and looks out the window through it, lets the street lights reflect through.

He imagines his car crash.

He imagines Takiishi looking at him.

Takiishi doesn't kiss him and Takiishi doesn't touch him and it rains for days, cold sleeting rain that makes Endo feel sick and Takiishi curl up under blankets, disappear at all hours and come back soaked.

Endo feels as though he has been cut out of his own life and then pasted back in. Everything is wrong. His sense of distance is confused. He reaches for one thing and finds himself holding another. He plays house.

He pretends Takiishi isn't bored of him.

He pretends he could be enough.

The air in the apartment is crackling like a sheet of ice. Endo goes to speak, to shatter the awful quiet, but Takiishi's eyes flick to him and the look in them curdles the words in his throat.

Takiishi's eyes slide off of Endo as he walks the length of the apartment, kicking the bathroom door shut behind him. Endo hears the click of the lock in the stillness and sinks down onto the balls of his feet. He bites back a near hysterical laugh that's bubbling under his skin.

He wonders what he will do now that Takiishi is bored with him, done with him. Endo doesn't know how to imagine not chasing after him, not getting to touch, even if it's just the strands of Takiishi's hair through his fingers as Takiishi turns away from him or the solid press of his fist against Endo's face. He doesn't want to imagine it. His hands shake and he can't make them stop. A tremor that starts in his little fingers. He makes fists and squeezes, tries to still himself. He presses on the fading bruise on his neck. He tries to pretend he is still wanted.

When Takiishi exits the bathroom he's scrubbed strangely clean, reflecting the light and pulling it in. He walks past Endo and pulls on a shirt, one of Endo's properly, too big for him, and then walks right to Endo and stares at him. There is something like a hunger in his gaze and Endo wants it to be for him. He wants it to be for him. All the words are stuck in Endo's throat and he's choking on them and he does not know how to say what he wants to say.

Takiishi comes so close Endo can almost taste him. It's the closest they've been since Takiishi's teeth were making their home in the side of Endo's neck. Endo wants to kiss him. He doesn't know when the last time he kissed Takiishi was.

"Endo Yamato." Takiishi breathes, words ghosting over Endo's lips, "go bathe. Properly."

Endo goes to bathe.

He shakes out his hair roughly after, still damp but not dripping, hands shaking as he dries the rest of his body. He doesn't bother redressing, just makes his way to their futon, to where Takiishi is sat waiting for him in the half-dark, his pale thighs exposed where the shirt rides up.

He tilts his head up and the act is part defiance, part as close to a request as Endo will get from Takiishi in one sense, the assumption that Endo will know what he wants, what he is asking for. Endo falls to his knees and kisses like a bite, licking into Takiishi's mouth frantically, trying to take, to give, to speak, to explain.

Don't be bored of me, he wants to say, let me know how to give you what you want and I will.

Takiishi's mouth opens easily for him and he returns the kiss with equal teeth and tongue, tugging Endo onto the bed. Endo slides his hands over the lines of Takiishi’s body, nearly sobbing when they are not pushed away, when he is allowed to touch. He presses his thumb into the artery on Takiishi's thigh, not to hurt but to solidify that he is there. Takiishi breaks the kiss with a pant, nails biting into Endo's shoulders, before he tugs Endo into another punishing kiss. Endo rucks Takiishi's shirt up as they kiss, but Takiishi makes no move to lift up to remove it, so Endo just pushes up around his neck and kisses down his chest, fiddles with the barbell piercings, plays with them with his tongue and fingers.

Takiishi sighs softly, hands tangled gently in Endo's hair, back arching. Endo slides down lower, pressing kisses to the hard lines of Takiishi's stomach, the softest touch of belly after Endo started making sure that Takiishi was eating more, eating more often. He presses a kiss to the jut of Takiishi's hipbone, to the side of his thigh, sucks a kiss onto the skin at the lowest point of his belly. Takiishi makes a sound that startles them both, breathless and strangely intimate. Endo pauses, looks up at Takiishi who is staring down at him as his chest heaves. He's flushed pink, stained wine-red from Endo's mouth.

Takiishi smooths Endo's hair back from his face with fingers so gentle it makes Endo feel slightly sick. Endo licks up Takiishi's cock without breaking eye contact and Takiishi shudders, manages to hold the gaze until Endo closes his mouth around the head of his dick and sucks. Takiishi's head falls back against the pillows with a broken moan.

Endo relaxes his throat, better at this now than he was at the start, but wanting to choke, wanting to have Takiishi grab his head and use him roughly so that he knows the lines of what is happening. So that he understands his place. So that Takiishi will not look down at him and say I'm bored and push Endo off, stand up, walk away. Takiishi twists under him, eyes pinched shut, hands tight in Endo's hair, and lets Endo do what he wants, lick and tease and suck harsh kisses on the shaft. It makes Endo's cock throb. He closes his eyes and works Takiishi until suddenly Takiishi's hands in his hair are pulling hard, his eyes are wild as he drags Endo off of his cock.

"I'm going to—" He says and Endo nods, tries to lick Takiishi cock back into his mouth, a surge of pride and want and please in his chest. Takiishi moans as Endo bottoms out around him, throat clenching around the head of his cock. "No." Takiishi hisses and knocks Endo off of him with a little more force, a sting to the touch. Endo pants, coughs roughly, trying to understand what is wrong.

"Do you—" he clears his throat, brushes his hair back from his eyes, "you don't want—"

Takiishi bares his teeth and sits up, pushing into Endo's space, his lap, licking into his mouth desperately as he reaches between them, strokes Endo's cock. Endo follows the motion with his hips, rocking up into Takiishi's fist, trying to catch his breath.

Takiishi falls back and Endo goes with him, careful as he can be, controlling the fall. Takiishi's hands slide to his hips, slide up his ribcage, sling around his neck, pulling their bodies closer together so Endo can rut against him, sliding their cocks together. Endo kisses Takiishi's cheek as Takiishi's arms fall from around his neck, foot sliding up Endo's calf, locking around his waist. Endo watches as Takiishi fumbles under the pillows and pulls out– condoms. Condoms that he tosses onto the bed, throwing them half toward Endo. Endo looks at Takiishi, blinks, can’t– he can't breathe— can't— his head spins. He lets Takiishi lick at the corner of his mouth, kiss his chin, his ear, pulling him close and wrapping him up with arms and legs. Takiishi bites at his lips, his mouth, nipping kisses that hurt so good Endo feels dizzy, drunk.

Takiishi pushes at Endo, face relaxing into that half-bored expression he has when he concentrates. He plucks up a condom, bites at the wrapper, shoving Endo until Endo sits back fully, on his knees, staring at Takiishi in something like confusion.

“Takiishi–” Endo manages as Takiishi gets the condom out of the wrapper. Takiishi puts the condom on Endo clumsily, his eyes intent, his tongue caught between his teeth. "I—" Endo tries to make his brain work, "I need to— fuck—" He gasps, falling forward as Takiishi strokes him, tight first, plays with his slit through the condom. "I have to get you ready—" He manages, throat tight. "We need lube—"

"I did. In the bath." Takiishi's voice is slightly hoarse, a faint pink blush across his cheeks. "I'm ready." He guides Endo's hand between his legs, presses up against his balls then lower, hot skin and— wet. Slippery. Endo's finger slides inside Takiishi without resistance. Takiishi makes a small sound, head tilting back against the pillows, exposing his throat. Endo bites at it without thinking, fucks his finger in and out, slides a second finger in and that's tighter, less slick, worries him a little.

"Lube." He begs. "Takiishi, I won't—" hurt you, a ridiculous thing to say for some reason. He's bit Takiishi bloody.

Takiishi looks at him like he's dazed, fumbles with the pillow by his head, pulls out a little bottle of lube that he must have stashed with the condoms, throws it at Endo's chest. Endo scissors his fingers as he settles back and the sound that Takiishi makes has Endo's cock twitching. He pours some lube on his fingers when he pulls them out a little, pushes them back inside. He's unable to process what he's doing, that he's inside Takiishi, that Takiishi wants this. Wants him.

Endo understands the mechanics of what he’s doing, what he’s looking for, even though he's never done this before. He crooks his fingers up, searching with the pads of them, and finds the spot that makes Takiishi's body go taught.

"Oh—" Takiishi grabs Endo's wrist with shaking fingers, back arched and hips lifting from the futon, his toes curled and digging into the bed by Endo's thighs. "Oh, I— ah—"

Endo does it again and again, curling his fingers, Takiishi's rim spread around his fingers, pink and slightly swollen. Endo's cock leaks into the condom, throbs.

"Now." Takiishi gasps. "I want it now."

Endo doesn't dare disagree. He wipes the leftover lube off on himself with a shaking hand, holding his dick at the base, trying to figure out if he'll be able to hold off from just coming immediately.

"I don't—" He tries, lining himself up. The image alone is enough to rock him to his core, the thought of pressing into Takiishi's body too much to handle. He closes his eyes, shuddering, trying to take a breath that ends up much too shallow and shaky to calm him at all. "I don't—"

He feels Takiishi's fingertips brush against his chest and opens his eyes. Takiishi has pushed up a little, reaching for him, and Endo goes, falls toward him, lets himself be kissed, Takiishi's hand winding sweetly into his hair, playing with the curls at the nape of his neck, tracing the tattoo on his shoulder. Endo wants to cry. He wants to scream. He rocks his hips, the tip of his dick catching on Takiishi.

"Endo Yamato." Takiishi says into Endo's mouth. His hands are still tangled in Endo's hair. “I want it.” He looks so serious. He looks angelic. He's a demon. Endo is going to die. He feels like he's going to die. He balances on a forearm, other hand tight on his dick, and slowly tilts his hips forward, guiding himself into Takiishi.

Takiishi gasps into the kiss but won't let him pull back, barely lets him glance down between them before he's pulling Endo's mouth back to his, one hand on Endo's hip pushing him forward, slowly slowly, fingers clenching hard when Endo needs to pause and let Takiishi adjust. Endo needs to adjust. He's never done this. He's never— he can't— it's so hot and tight and it's Takiishi and he's losing his mind.

He's losing his mind.

He whimpers into Takiishi’s mouth and Takiishi eats it, takes that inside of him too. Inside him. Endo's inside him. He's inside Takiishi. Everything is pulsing, like Endo's heart is beating through his whole body, all of him alive and one organ, Takiishi in sync with him, a leg lifting up and around his hips, pulling him forward, pulling him flush. When Endo bottoms out the kiss is broken as Takiishi's body arches off the futon, head tilting backwards and mouth open in a soundless gasp.

Endo pauses, his whole body trembling. He bites at his lip and tries not to come, tries not to come, tries not to come.

"Oh God," he manages, as Takiishi arches under him, wet dick sliding against Endo's stomach, his hands tugging at Endo's hair. His eyes look dazed, far away and right there all at once, pupils blown. Endo watches a bead of sweat trickle down his temple, bends forward— jostling them which draws strangled sounds out of both of them— and licks at it. Bites Takiishi's ear. Open mouth kisses his cheekbone, dragging his mouth down to meet Takiishi's. Endo presses soft kisses to Takiishi's mouth, nipping ones down Takiishi's throat, letting himself fall into another life, another world, where Takiishi touches him softly and this is a night they will have followed by other nights just like this, all the aching tenderness of the bruise. It's too slow. Too deceptively simple. Too much of everything Endo wants and is not allowed, these soft little gasps falling from Takiishi's mouth.

"Move." Takiishi breathes. Endo can't, he can't, but he has to, he wants to. He grinds his hips forward slowly, barely pulling out and then pushing into the tight heat of Takiishi. It's so much. Too much. His gut clenches, vision swimming, as Takiishi rocks his hips up to meet Endo's.

"I'm not going to—" Endo mumbles, feeling frantic with it, "Takiishi, I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I can't, I'm going to— I can't last—" It's too much and he's never done this and he's doing it with Takiishi, with Takiishi who he would easily burn the whole world for, without a second thought, and he's inside him and Takiishi is kissing him like he loves him and he doesn't— he can't— "I'm gonna come—" He manages.

"Yes." Takiishi says, voice clipped but not with anger, with— his lips drag on Endo's skin and Endo realizes dimly that Takiishi's hand is moving fast and frantic between their bodies, that he's arching up into each of Endo's thrusts, little ah ah sounds dripping from his lips that taste sweet, "please." Takiishi says, whispered but clear as day, so unbelievable that, with his blood like an ocean in his ears, Endo comes nearly instantly, shooting hot into the condom, feeling Takiishi tighten around him with a muffled moan, body spasming slightly.

Takiishi draws their mouths together but it's not a kiss, not at first, more a mingling of breath, Endo taking Takiishi's exhales into his lungs, panting, licking at his teeth, whole body shaking with the intensity of his orgasm. He can't see. He can't feel his hands. Takiishi tugs and their mouths meet properly, slip into a kiss sweet and slow as their breathing steadies and Takiishi's hands on his face guide him. It's a long tender kiss, the kind Endo has seen in movies and assumed, without really much regret, that he wouldn't get to experience.

He will regret it now, knowing it and losing it. Knowing how it feels to be inside Takiishi, that deep in him. Takiishi's legs fall from his hips even though Endo is still inside him, getting soft, the condom probably leaking. Endo should pull out, tie it off, throw it away, see if Takiishi will deign to let Endo clean him up or just roll over and sleep but he can't, he can't, and Takiishi is kissing him like he means something to him and—

Endo whines, moans, realizes only as Takiishi's thumbs slide under his eyes that he's crying, desperate tears that he can't stop.

Takiishi pushes Endo back, breaking the kiss. There is almost a question in his eyes, when Endo manages to meet them. Endo does not know what to do with this. He feels the memory of that night so many nights ago, Takiishi pulling Endo on top of him, the slow suffocating heat of their bodies under the blankets, the touch like drowning. Endo can't stop crying, tangling his hands in Takiishi's hair, trying to bring his face closer to return to kissing him, to keep the moment, for just a little longer.

Please, he wants to beg, just a little longer.

"Endo Yamato." Takiishi says, disentangling him, hands flat on Endo's chest. Endo's heart breaks a little as Takiishi pushes him back father. He tries to gather himself, can't. Wipes at his eyes, his face, looks at Takiishi spread out on the blankets in front of him, red and wet from Endo's mouth, his thighs marked with Endo's hands where his nails bit into them and he’s– still hard, hasn’t come and Endo didn't realize and—

"Takiishi," Endo begs through a sob, nosing into Takiishi's neck, sucking at the soft skin where his heart pulses, drawing it between his teeth. He can fold it all back up inside himself, he wants to say. He doesn't know how but he can. He will. He can stop. He can stop all these feelings. Just don't leave me, he wants to say, plead, and can't make words right, just don't lose interest in me, I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'll take all my want back. Takiishi's hands push hard at Endo’s chest, push him back, away. Endo burrows closer, bites roughly at Takiishi's skin, "Don't leave me," he manages, "please, don't—"

"Stop." Takiishi says, the syllables clipped, a command. He threads his hand into Endo's hair and pulls hard, hard enough Endo gasps in pain, head craned back to look at Takiishi.

Takiishi looks at him for a long second, his eyes syrup slow, hand tugging harder and harder, so Endo lifts up, away, rolls over. Takiishi crawls on top of him, Endo's body flinching, dick still half-hard. Takiishi presses a hand flat on Endo's chest, palm hot, melting Endo down, down into the pillows, the futon, their bodies melding together again slowly. He settles on the tops of Endo's thighs and rips the condom off of him, tosses it carelessly, strokes Endo's dick with a tight fist. Endo can't breathe, the tears and the overstimulation and Takiishi, on him, looking at him, working him back to full hardness.

Endo's entire body is on fire, flayed, all his nerves going off at once, the pleasure-pain so much he can't think. Everything is wet and hot and there is so much sensation and—

"Condom." He tries to gasp, the word coming on chopped, when Takiishi wriggles forward, lifting up, rubbing the tip of Endo's cock against his hole. Endo's squeezing so tight on Takiishi's hips he's going to leave a bruise. Takiishi scrapes nails down his chest.

"Why." He says. "Why. Do you fuck other people, Endo Yamato?"

"No." Endo moans, head spinning as Takiishi takes Endo inside him, lets gravity do some of the work. "Tight, fuck, be careful, Takiishi, you're still so—"

Takiishi rolls his hips languidly in a circle, taking more of Endo inside him with a pleased hum. Endo feels feral. Frantic.

"Slow down—" he gasps, because there is too much feeling and too much of everything and Takiishi is so beautiful above him that the air around him is dull and dim.

"No." Takiishi says. He drags his nails down Endo's chest, leaves welts, rocks his hips. It's the opposite of what they just did, all slow and intimate– this is harsh and rough and Endo's body is flooded with overstimulation. He lifts up to kiss Takiishi and Takiishi pushes him down, digs fingers into his ribs. Endo knocks his head against the floor, a broken moan spilling out of his mouth as Takiishi lifts up a little, sits back down.

"Takiishi— slow down—" Endo slurs, hands sliding up and down Takiishi's strong thighs as he rides him, his dick dripping on Endo, hurtling Endo toward an orgasm he doesn't know if he can have, an ending he doesn't want. "Please," Endo begs, "Please, I want—"

"What." Takiishi falls forward to dig his teeth into Endo's lip, tugs at it. “What do you want?”

Endo looks at Takiishi helplessly, digs his nails into Takiishi's hips, not clear if he's trying to still Takiishi’s movements or rock up into him. Endo knows that it's too much, what he wants, too much to ask for, expect, want. Gods are not beholden to one person, don't bend themselves or their wills just because you are human enough to want. But Endo wants. He has wanted so desperately for so long. It lives in his gut, behind his liver, wrapped around his spleen like a vice.

"I—" He stutters out, the word sinking into a groan as Takiishi rocks his hips. "I want—" the words slur together.

"What," Takiishi whispers, “tell me, Yamato.”

Endo surges up, pushing aside Takiishi's hands when they push at him, pinning them between their chest, pushing him back onto the futon and covering Takiishi's body with his. Takiishi's fingers twitch, his wrists pinned together in Endo's hand. Endo expects Takiishi to twist his hands free, bare his teeth. Go for the throat. Takiishi struggles once and then relaxes. He tilts his head back, exposing his throat. Endo's brain rebels at the submission. His heart breaks and reforms. He stares at Takiishi and Takiishi looks back at him, clear amber eyes, melted honey sticky.

"Say my name again." Endo whispers, voice cracking.

"Yamato." Takiishi repeats. Endo noses into his skin, the soft skin under his jaw, scrapes teeth up, licks over his chin, up to his mouth.

“You.” Endo manages. “I want you.”

Takiishi tugs him into a deep kiss, long and lingering. Endo pulls back panting, watches a string of saliva stretch between them, snap.

"Endo Yamato is mine." Takiishi says, eyes sharp, locked on Endo like knives. "You are mine." He says. "Do you understand?"

Endo wants to cry again, wants to scream, tear with his teeth, taste blood. The relief is so strong, so all-consuming, he feels nauseous.

"Yes." He manages. "Yes."

"Good." Takiishi says simply, twisting his hands to free them, fingers tracing scars, tracing tattoos, dragging across Endo's skin in a way that will leave marks that will never leave, burns that will always ache. Takiishi rolls his hips slightly under Endo's, arching into him. He wraps his legs around Endo's hips like he's going to keep him there. Holds Endo's face in his hands and traces his cheekbones with the pads of his fingers. Lifts up and nudges his nose against Endo's like it's a promise. Slides his mouth across Endo's cheek in a strange-lingering non-kiss.

Endo's whole body feels damp with tears, feels thick with trust. His heart folds against itself and he feels something in him relax, each vertebrae one at a time, as Takiishi runs his fingers over them, tracing the shape of Endo's bones like he wants to know them.

"Chika." Endo murmurs.

"Yamato." Takiishi responds. He ghosts his mouth over Endo's shoulder.

His teeth press against Endo's skin.

He bites down hard.

 ♡♡♡