Chapter Text
Kaoru knows he is a man of contradictions.
He has built an impressive career in one of the most ancient forms of visual art, but he has done it by applying in it the latest advancements in artificial intelligence. He considers himself logical and calculated, and yet his favorite thing in the world is hurtling downhill on a board with tiny wheels that can lose control at the smallest crack on the ground.
Contradictions.
And Kojiro — Kojiro is the source of most of them for Kaoru.
It's a late summer evening when the brute shows up on Kaoru's doorstep with a duffel bag on his shoulder because he forgot there will be no power in his apartment for a few days. Kaoru calls him unorganized and stupid and tells him it's not his problem. And then, of course, he invites Kojiro in.
Contradictions.
Kaoru's kitchen is not Sia la luce, but it feels like it might as well be as Kaoru takes a seat beside the kitchen island and watches Kojiro rummaging around the fridge and cabinets, gathering ingredients for dinner. The night air feels charged, thrumming with the anticipation of an impending storm.
Kaoru takes a sip of wine and says, "I can't believe you forgot they were replacing the electrical wiring in your apartment, you idiot! Don't you know how to set a reminder on your phone?"
"At least I don't forget to eat like you do, four-eyes! You should program that robot of yours to remind you to—"
"Carla is not a robot!" Kaoru bites out and takes another sip. Condensation rolls down his glass in big, round droplets. The humidity feels sticky on his skin and heavy in his lungs. He hates it. He wishes it would just rain already.
He'd spent the whole week working on a collection for an important customer, and by the time evening came today, he'd felt both too strung out and too exhausted to even consider going out for dinner. He'd planned to have a quiet night alone at home, and yet, he finds he doesn't exactly mind this. The clatter of cookware. Their usual bickering.
So, yeah. Contradictions.
Kojiro — stupid and infuriating and ridiculously competent Kojiro — manages to work with Kaoru's mostly empty pantry. He finds a half-full box of spaghetti, picks up some olive oil and a head of garlic that's just fresh enough. He opens the fridge and beams when he notices a box of precut appetizers inside. He takes several olives and a few cubes of Parmesan cheese from it, and then sets the box in front of Kaoru.
"Snack on that while I cook."
Kaoru tentatively accepts them and gives him a grateful hum. The tension in his shoulders relaxes, just a bit. His attention is pulled towards Kojiro's hands, mesmerizing in their movements as he is measuring and peeling and chopping.
"How long do you think the work in your apartment will take?"
"A few days, at least. Maybe a week," Kojiro says. "I, uh… I can call some hotels tomorrow if—"
"Don't be ridiculous." Kaoru rolls his eyes. "You can just stay here."
There's a small stutter in the rhythmic chop-chop-chop sound as Kojiro acknowledges the words and glances at Kaoru. It's barely there, but it's enough for Kaoru to notice it. Kojiro doesn't exactly smile, but a small dip forms in one of his cheeks. The tiniest hint of a dimple.
The pasta water begins to boil. The olive oil sizzles in the pan. Warm and balmy air enters through the kitchen window and clings to Kaoru's skin and clothes. There's a strange emotion shuffling in the dip between his collarbones. A sleepy animal stirring awake.
He huffs at himself, wondering why the heat makes him this much on edge.
Kojiro serves two plates and presents one to Kaoru. "Here you go, princess. Spaghetti Aglio e Olio."
It doesn't look like much. Not compared to what he usually cooks. But when Kaoru takes a bite, he is surprised that despite the few ingredients, the taste is luxurious and creamy. The garlic has infused the oil with its aroma. It's bold and delicious, without being overpowering. A moment later, Kaoru's stomach seems to catch up to the fact that he hasn't eaten since morning and suddenly he is starving.
He takes a second bite. It's even better. The slice of green olive in his mouth feels like a tiny firecracker pop of savory zest. He continues to eat quietly, quickly, too caught up in the flavors to say anything.
His own plate untouched, Kojiro watches him with a smile that makes the corner of his eyes crinkle.
"You like it?"
"Fishing for compliments? Really?"
Kojiro chuckles in a way that makes it evident that he is, and that he knows he deserves them.
When he notices Kaoru has polished off all of his pasta, he slides his own plate towards him without a word. Kaoru considers refusing it, if only to not allow Kojiro to get too cocky about how tasty Kaoru finds his cooking, but in reality, that ship sailed years ago.
"How come I've never seen you prepare this before?"
"Oh, it's, uh, it's something I make on nights when I'm too tired to stand at the stove for too long. Or when I'm out of groceries," Kojiro says, and winks. Kaoru doesn't miss the jab. "Here, try this." He adds a sprinkle of grated Parmesan to Kaoru's plate.
Kaoru twirls a few spaghetti strands on his fork, places the bundle into his mouth and then, he almost fucking moans at how good it tastes. To be fair, he's been living off instant noodles and convenience store bento for a week.
"You should add this to the menu," he says, after a while, intentionally eating as slowly as possible, even though he feels like scarfing down the last of the pasta.
"Really? You don't think it's too simple to serve at the restaurant?"
"Simple isn't always bad," Kaoru says, taking the last bite. "Look at you, for example. If people disliked simple things, nobody would ever want to spend time with you."
He knows he's made a mistake somewhere along that sentence by the way Kojiro smirks at him.
"So what you're saying is, you actually like me. A lot."
"That was definitely not what I said!"
It's not a denial, exactly. Kaoru can tell that Kojiro notices this too, because his smile spreads wider.
"Well, considering how often we hang out together—"
"Shut up!" Kaoru slaps a hand over Kojiro's mouth. And then, in an awkward attempt to change the subject, "It's late. I need to do the dishes."
Kojiro allows him to get away with it. Kaoru feels like he's lost this fight. Or whatever this was. But he's not as irritated about it as much as he should be.
Contradictions.
There's not much to tidy from the dinner prep. Despite how messy Kojiro used to be as a teenager, despite how messy his apartment can get even now, Kaoru is always taken by surprise by the order in which Kojiro always leaves any kitchen he works in.
Still, he takes his time. He wipes the counters slowly, thoroughly. Puts all the used dishes in the sink. He doesn't mind the effort. It eases some of the tension that is brewing inside of him.
The warm, soapy water feels good on his skin. He can sense Kojiro's presence next to him without even looking, and when he's done rinsing the first plate, he hands it to Kojiro for drying. They fall into an easy rhythm. Kaoru scrubs the plates, the pan, the knives, he rinses them and hands them over. It doesn't slip his notice that Kojiro knows exactly where to store each of them once they're dry. Like this kitchen is as much his space, as it is Kaoru's. Like he belongs here.
"This feels awfully domestic."
He says it without thinking. Their shoulders are pressing together, and Kaoru only notices it when Kojiro turns to look at him and breaks the contact. There's something in his eyes that Kaoru doesn't understand. Something honest and searching. Uncertain. His gaze rakes over Kaoru's face and catches on his lips. Kaoru feels it, a strange flutter, something squeezing in his chest, and suddenly his skin feels itchy, too tight to contain it. He needs to go out. Needs to do the one thing that always eases his anxiety.
"Kaoru, I—"
"Wanna go for a ride?"
They both speak at the same time.
Kojiro's eyes widen, very slightly. Carla chimes in, a reminder that there's an 87% chance of rain in the next hour. Kojiro's shoulders slump, and Kaoru thinks he's about to say no, but then he smiles and nods, and in a minute, they're out of the apartment and cruising down the empty streets.
The night feels less stifling outside. The restlessness in Kaoru's chest doesn't let go, but he feels less irritated with the light breeze brushing over his skin. They skate down empty pavements, taking random turns without a destination in mind. Somewhere between home and here, Kojiro has managed to unbutton his shirt. It flaps behind him as he rides, bringing with it the faint scent of rosemary that always seems to cling to him, and the warm and sweet tones of his cologne.
They rush through fields of light and darkness, streetlamps passing by as they ride. Somehow, without planning to, they end up on the road that follows the coastline.
In Kaoru's ears, there's only the sound of waves and the scrape of wheels on asphalt. He releases his hair from his ponytail, takes a deep breath and allows the uneasiness he feels to sink down further. Kojiro falls back a little, and then, weaving around, he bumps into Kaoru, almost making him lose his balance.
"What the fuck, asshole?"
Kojiro just chuckles and rushes forward. Kaoru isn't going to allow him this.
"Carla, high-speed mode."
Kojiro has always had a ridiculously powerful push. He is wearing a pair of oversized denim shorts that hang low on his hips, and the muscles of his naked calves bulge every time he pushes himself forward. But Kaoru has the faster board, so he manages to catch up to him and jabs him in the ribs with an elbow.
"Fuck, Cherry," Kojiro complains, rubbing his side, though his lips are spread in a grin, "you just have to get even, don't you?"
Kaoru rolls his eyes. There's a smile that keeps tugging at the corner of his mouth, and he doesn't manage to hide it completely.
They are nearing the abandoned building of the old ocean view restaurant. Kaoru can tell they both get the same idea when Kojiro looks at him, one eyebrow quirked in challenge.
"What's it gonna be, Pinky?" Kojiro drawls.
They haven't beefed in so long and oh, Kaoru thinks. It's on.
"I'll tell you what I want from you when I win."
He surges forward before Kojiro even begins the countdown, and laughs at Kojiro's irritated growl.
"That's cheating, you ass!"
"Keep up, gorilla!"
It's not their best race. They spend more time skating circles around each other, trying to trip or push the other one, than they actually try to gain speed. The night's still hot and humid, but Kaoru doesn't mind it. Not with the wind blowing in his face and the thrill of excitement crawling up his spine. It's the most fun he's had in ages.
He thinks he can see the familiar finish line in the pale glow of the streetlamp. The neon pink spray paint has mostly faded, but the thin crack in the pavement is still there. Kojiro notices it too, judging by the way he hoots and finally picks up speed.
Kaoru goes harder. His muscles begin to burn. His hair whips around his face. His heart is racing like it's going to leap out of his chest, and next to him, Kojiro is laughing, barely winded, but they're so close, neck to neck really, and he's not about to let Kojiro win without a fight. So he kicks even faster, revels in the feeling of pushing his body as far as it can go, and somehow, by a split second, the nose of his board passes the crack in the asphalt before Kojiro's.
He's going so fast that it's difficult to slow down quickly enough. He almost slams into the guard rail of the old drive-in, his board flying to the side, and himself running forward by inertia, but he manages to catch himself on his arms. He rests his hands on the fence, chest heaving, and then he begins to laugh, drunk on the adrenaline and the euphoria. He laughs and laughs, belly full, head thrown back, and Kojiro is right there next to him, and he's laughing too, and then, for a brief moment, his fingers are on Kaoru's sweaty forehand, gently brushing his hair away.
It takes Kaoru by surprise. Makes something squeeze around his chest. Makes it impossible to breathe well.
He tries to find something to say, and his stunned brain lands on, "I win, muscle-head."
Kojiro is smiling, expression full of quiet joy, as if he was the one who won. "Mm. I know."
"You owe me a favor."
"It's worth it," Kojiro says, gaze unbearably warm and focused on Kaoru's. "To see you like this."
Kaoru looks away. He can't help it. In front of them, the ocean spreads. Huge. Endless. Too calm, like it's holding its breath before the impending storm.
He asks, his voice a little shaky, "What— What's gotten into you?"
Kojiro sighs. "I don't know..."
They're standing too close, shoulder to shoulder, hip to hip. Kaoru feels the light fabric of his yukata sticking to his sweaty skin.
"I guess I was worried that you'd stopped enjoying it. That you were thinking about quitting."
Kaoru's eyebrows shoot up. "What, skateboarding?"
There's a furrow on Kojiro's forehead. Small worry lines, barely noticeable, but there. Kaoru doesn't like being what caused them.
"Well, yeah… You haven't been at S a lot lately and— I know you needed some time after your injuries—"
"I've been catching up on work, you dumbass," Kaoru says, and emphasizes the last word by bumping their shoulders together, hard. And then, more gently, "I'm not quitting. I intend to be kicking your ass at this for twenty more years, at least."
Kojiro blinks. There's a hint of wonder and relief on his face. "Oh. Okay, um, good."
Thunder rumbles somewhere in the distance. Kaoru keeps his eyes on the ocean. The skin on his face where Kojiro touched him feels like it is burning, and he keeps thinking about Kojiro worrying about him, and something in him swells and swells and he doesn't know what to do about it.
Kojiro sweeps his fingers over the metal of the railing, tracing a series of grooves and scratches that span its length. He reaches Kaoru's hand, and when their pinkies touch, he doesn't pull away. For a wild, dizzy moment, Kaoru thinks about curling their fingers together.
Another thunder, this time closer. Carla vibrates on Kaoru's wrist, a second, silent warning about rain.
"I love this place," Kojiro says, voice low. "It brings so many fond memories, you know?"
He doesn't mean to say it. Not really. But the unreal quality the night has gained makes him feel like he is intoxicated. Untethered. And the words — they just slip out.
"Actually, sometimes I think I hate it."
Next to him, Kojiro doesn't react. His profile would be a perfect image of tranquility, if not for the tightness around his lips.
He blinks, and doesn't look at Kaoru when he asks, "Is it because of Adam? Because this is where he told us he was leaving?"
"Yes."
No response. Kaoru swallows hard, continues, "But also, this was where you told me you were going to Italy."
It's easy to read Kojiro. It always has been. It starts slowly, like the first rays of a sunrise. The light coming back in his eyes. The curl of his lips into a surprised O. The change in his posture.
"I didn't know if you'd come back," Kaoru explains, and Kojiro turns, crowding closer.
Slowly, without hesitation, his hands reach for Kaoru's face.
"You never said anything."
Kaoru lowers his eyes. He should have said it. Should say something about it now at least. But as much as Kaoru cares, as much as he understands that Kojiro deserves to know he does, his first instinct is to keep it hidden.
Contradictions.
"I was always going to come back," Kojiro says, and tucks Kaoru's hair behind his ears. They are standing so close that Kaoru feels the heat radiating from his body.
"I know. I just didn't know it then."
Kojiro rubs his thumb on the line of Kaoru's lower lip. It's gentle. Maddening.
There is a sudden bright flash and in the white light Kaoru sees it again. The vulnerable expression from earlier, in the kitchen. The hope and affection in Kojiro's eyes. Kojiro opens his mouth, but before he can speak, there is a deafening clap of thunder somewhere too close to them.
He waits for the echo of it to die down, and then, "Kaoru. I'm about to do something. And if you don't want it, I need you to stop me now."
"Do what?" Kaoru asks. Breathless.
"You know what." Kojiro frowns. His eyes are on Kaoru, blazing hot and sincere and a little wounded. "Come on, Pinky, don't tell me you don't feel it."
Kaoru laughs, humorless. Because of course he feels it. This constant restlessness, this thing inside of him that's been secretly growing for months and years, has gotten so big, it almost doesn't fit in his chest anymore.
"We can't," he says, quietly. He makes sure to keep looking at Kojiro, because if he's going to do this, if he's going to break both of their hearts, he doesn't deserve to hide from whatever passes through Kojiro's eyes as he's doing it.
For some reason, Kojiro seems perfectly calm. "Why not? Kaoru, I will never mention this again and we can go back to the way we were before, if that's what you want. But I need to know why."
A flash of anger electrifies Kaoru's body. And it's so familiar and comfortable to be annoyed with Kojiro's cluelessness, that it centers him enough to find his words. "If we do this, and it goes wrong… If I lose you, I—"
"Why would you lose me, Pinky?" Kojiro says. He's still stroking Kaoru's face with his fingers. "Don't we always find our way to each other? No matter what?"
It's such a fucking Kojiro thing to say. Over the top and ridiculous and cheesy and endearing. But it's the truth. And it makes Kaoru's heart race. It makes him begin to hope, and hope is a dangerous thing.
"Don't you think it's stupid to risk what we already have?" he tries. A last resort in a battle he feels he has already lost.
"We're skateboarders." Kojiro grins, and his eyes sparkle with it. "Haven't we always been a little stupid?"
It feels like wiping out. Or rather, like the first time he tried to olie over a set of stairs. He is in the air, at the apex of it. It's scary. Exciting.
And Kaoru finally lets go. Allows the thing that scares him to happen.
He laughs, soft and breathy, and it erases all the tension with it. Floods him with a strange relief. And then, he leans in and presses their lips together.
The first raindrops begin to patter on the roof above them. Kojiro kisses him back, sweetly, softly. His arms wrap around Kaoru and it feels both strange and familiar and all Kaoru can think is Maybe we should have done this long ago. He pushes Kojiro against the railing, and buries his fingers in the hair at the nape of Kojiro's neck, and feels Kojiro sighing into his mouth.
The pattering of the rain turns urgent and frantic, and soon it crescendos into a downpour. But the two of them remain safe and dry in their hidden little pocket under the roof of the drive-in, with curtains of rain all around them.
When they pull apart, Kojiro immediately begins to stroke his cheeks, to brush his fingers through Kaoru's hair. Little caring touches, like he physically can't bear to keep his hands off.
"We can't skate back in this rain," Kaoru says.
"I don't mind. I'm right where I wanna be anyway."
Kaoru huffs. "You don't need to use your lines on me, idiot."
"It's not a line," Kojiro says and just looks at him, gaze filled with quiet adoration.
Kaoru feels heat climbing up his cheeks, so he pulls Kojiro close, hiding his flushed face in Kojiro's neck.
"Dumb gorilla," he whispers, and feels Kojiro shaking with quiet laughter. And then, "We're really doing this, aren't we?"
"Mm."
"Why now?"
Kojiro turns his head, begins to trace his lips up the length of Kaoru's throat and says between kisses, "I dunno. Wasn't it about time?"
"I forgot. You are physically unable to have complex thoughts and feelings," Kaoru murmurs.
"Too late to complain," Kojiro whispers against his skin. "You already told me you like simple things."
The delicate touch of his lips lights a flame inside Kaoru. It's dizzying, having his full focus like this. Kojiro kisses him, slow and exploring, mapping out his neck, his jaw, the place under his lip where there's still a tiny scar from the piercing. It makes Kaoru feel like his brain is full of cotton wool, soft and fuzzy around the edges.
He allows himself to explore too, slides his hands down Kojiro's gorgeous chest, kisses him harder. Kojiro's stupid shirt is still unbuttoned, and there's so much warm skin, and Kaoru just can't help lowering his lips to it. He nips at the soft place above Kojiro's collarbone, and then kisses, and then sucks on it, and this makes Kojiro's breath stutter. He pulls Kaoru impossibly closer.
They make out like teenagers, for what feels like forever. Kaoru is dazed by the hiss of the rain in his ears and the hot slide of Kojiro's tongue against his own and all the soft skin under his palms. Kojiro grabs his waist, and their bodies are pressed together, but Kaoru wants more. Wants to kiss and touch Kojiro everywhere.
"I need to get you in a bed," he says, and marvels at the beautiful, low sound that leaves Kojiro's mouth.
"Fuck, Kaoru," he says, breaking the kiss and pressing their foreheads together. His breaths are coming fast and heavy between them, and Kaoru finds it thrilling that he was the one who caused that.
The storm has grown quiet, the rain having weakened to a light drizzle. Kaoru stares in amazement at the pink bruise that's forming just above Kojiro's clavicle.
"Should we chance it?" he asks.
And Kojiro lifts his head and grins, a playful glint dancing in his eyes. And Kaoru understands his answer, like they so often understand each other, without words.
In a moment, they are speeding down the streets again, too fast for how wet the asphalt is.
Not fast enough.
At one point, Kojiro's wheels lose their grip, causing him to swerve and almost wipe out, and Kaoru snorts at him, and then he loses control and nearly slams face first into the street himself. It gets even worse after that, because they can't stop laughing. And hasn't it always been like this? Chasing each other. Taunting. Kojiro being the only person in his life capable or willing to keep up.
They don't bother with the lights when they enter the apartment. They're panting, backs against the wall and eyes full of exhilaration. Kojiro bites his lip, and then he moves, his gentle, calloused hands finding Kaoru's face again.
Kaoru had always thought it would be like fireworks, if they ever did this. Biting and shoving, explosive, like all of their fights. It could get there now, if they let it. Instead, they just look at each other, faces too close, breathing the same air. When they finally kiss, it's tender and unhurried.
Kojiro presses him against the wall, puts his hands above Kaoru's hips and squeezes, and Kaoru gasps. He loves it, loves the feel of Kojiro's strong hands, finally on him. Loves the satisfied little sound Kojiro makes, when Kaoru pushes his tongue into his mouth. He feels a little hazy, and whenever he opens his eyes and breaks the kiss, he can see that Kojiro looks a bit hazy himself.
He moves Kojiro's hands to the obi and tugs on it, and Kojiro understands. He lets out a low rumble from somewhere deep inside his chest and begins to undress Kaoru. Kaoru slips his own hands into the part of Kojiro's damp shirt and lets them wander over his torso, trying to get his fill of all that beautiful soft skin and hard muscle, before sliding the shirt off his shoulders.
Their kisses deepen. They're a tangle of limbs and hair and rain soaked clothes that eventually end up on the floor. Kaoru doesn't care. There's a spark in the air between them that threatens to turn this into a wildfire.
Outside, the storm picks up again. A pleasant gust of wind enters through the open windows, making goosebumps erupt on Kaoru's skin. Kojiro notices, and holds him closer.
"Shower?" he asks.
Kaoru nuzzles his neck, licks a long strip from his pulse point to his ear, tastes the rain and salt on him and finds that he likes it too much.
"After," is the only thing he says, and guides Kojiro towards the bedroom.
It takes only the slightest brush of his fingertips to turn Kojiro around, a gentle touch on the small of Kojiro's back to make him walk. When they reach the futon, he rests his hand on Kojiro's shoulder, and Kojiro immediately goes down. It lights something deep inside Kaoru to see him like this, all that obvious strength going soft and pliant under his touch.
The curtains billow in the breeze, and the light from the streetlamps dances over Kojiro's skin. Kaoru swallows, hard. Kojiro is on his knees, naked aside from his white boxer briefs. He is big and strong and gorgeous, his body like a statue of a fucking Greek god, and the sudden urgent want Kaoru feels is more intense than anything he has felt all evening.
Dazed, he presses the pad of one of his thumbs against Kojiro's plush lower lip, and Kojiro opens his mouth. His hot, pink tongue darts out immediately. Desire travels like a wave of heat over Kaoru's skin, and it settles, heavy and feverish, inside his stomach. He feels dizzy with it. Drunk. He wants too much. Every secret longing he has buried throughout the time he's known Kojiro is suddenly surfacing.
"You okay?" Kojiro asks, always careful. Always so perceptive about Kaoru.
"You take my breath away," Kaoru admits. "I don't know what to do about it."
Kojiro smiles, and makes the decision for them. He pulls Kaoru down and kisses him gently. Before Kaoru can tell it's happening, Kojiro rolls them around in a single, swift move, and Kaoru wants to let out an indignant sound about it, but he's being pinned down by Kojiro's considerable strength and kissed into the futon, so what comes out of his mouth instead, is a moan.
His mind goes a little foggy after that. Everything feels warm and wet. Kojiro's lips, as they part on a sigh. Kojiro's tongue, as it slides down Kaoru's neck to his naked shoulder. His teeth scrape Kaoru's skin, teasing little moans and shivers from him.
"So beautiful," Kojiro mumbles, as he glides his tongue down Kaoru's chest and takes his nipple in his mouth. He begins to suck on it, lightly at first, a slow torture, and when Kaoru begins to squirm and bite his lips, Kojiro finally sucks harder. Once he's happy with what he's done, he draws back to admire the result of his ministrations. Even in the low light, the shine and redness on his lips make Kaoru feel like there's not enough oxygen in the room. The air feels cold on his hot and tortured nipple, and he opens his mouth to complain, but then Kojiro dives down and bites on it. It isn't hard, barely more than a graze of his teeth, but Kaoru is already so sensitive that his hips buck, and he calls out, "Fucker!" as his hard cock presses against Kojiro's thigh.
Kojiro reacts with a groan. Like he was the one who just had his world rocked by the mouth of the most annoying, stupid, ridiculously attractive man in the world. And then, the fucking asshole dips his head and begins sucking on Kaoru's other nipple.
Time seems to slow. Kaoru feels like a bee threading through honey. He wants to sink in it, to drown in the sticky sweetness. He's been steadily rocking into the seam of Kojiro's hip, and the pressure feels amazing. It keeps building and building, and suddenly he thinks he could just come like this, and then, oh God, he's actually going to come like this, but something clears in his head enough at the last second to grab the hair at the back of Kojiro's head and tug on it.
Kojiro pulls away, looking absolutely sinful. He blinks down at Kaoru with eyes that are dark and hooded. There is something in them that reminds Kaoru of a hungry animal.
"Fuck," Kaoru hisses. He closes his eyes and steadies his breathing, and when he opens them again, Kojiro looks a little more focused as well.
"I'm sorry," he says, and lets go of Kojiro's hair. "It's just… we need to stop. If you want to fuck me."
A delicious shudder travels along Kojiro's whole body. He hums and leans down to slide his tongue into Kaoru's mouth again. It's deep and filthy, nothing like the tender and unhurried kisses they have shared so far. When he pulls away to speak, there's a pleasant growly tone to his voice. "I do. I want that."
Kaoru points towards the dresser next to the futon. "Lube. Second drawer from the bottom."
And Kojiro grins, and he leans down to land a peck on the tip of Kaoru's nose in such a raw display of fondness, that it makes heat rise in Kaoru's cheeks. Kojiro turns to rummage in the drawer, finds the small tube and then his eyes catch on something else. He considers it a moment longer, and when he turns to crawl back over Kaoru's body, there is a teasing curl to his lips. Kaoru wonders what that's about, but then Kojiro begins to kiss his temple, then his chin, then lower on Kaoru's shoulder and arm, and Kaoru is once again lost.
Kojiro is attentive, slow and methodical. Kaoru is gently brushing his fingers through Kojiro's hair and tugging on it when the sensation gets to be too much. It almost seems like Kojiro is kissing and nipping at random, following nothing more than Kaoru's gasps and moans, but then Kaoru realizes he is carefully tracing the line of scars along his body that were the result of Adam injuring him.
A lump forms in his throat, making it difficult to swallow. And it hits him again that they're doing this, they're really doing this, with all their history and everything that makes them — them, and it suddenly feels overwhelming.
He fists his hands in Kojiro's hair and pulls again, hard, because that seems preferable to tearing up when they're just about to fuck. "Stop messing around and get on with it."
Kojiro laughs, breathy and low. "Impatient."
He removes Kaoru's briefs and begins to pour lube over his fingers, letting it drip down onto Kaoru's lower belly and cock. It's definitely on purpose, because he laughs again when Kaoru shivers and complains about it. And then he uses it to begin stroking Kaoru, as he works one, then two fingers inside him, slowly and carefully.
Kaoru tries to keep watching him through it. The twin sensations of Kojiro's hands on him and in him are too much, but he wants to commit everything about this moment to memory — the attractive furrow on Kojiro's brow as he focuses, the curves and valleys of his beautiful body, the way he seems to crave Kaoru's every gasp and twitch. Kojiro curves his fingers inside Kaoru once he makes it to three, and Kaoru feels it, like a live wire passing through his body. A shuddering whine escapes his lips.
"Fuck!" Kojiro hisses. Lightning flashes outside and in the sudden vivid light Kaoru sees the drop of sweat rolling down Kojiro's temple. Sees the damp spot on his underwear where the head of his cock almost pokes through it.
And Kaoru loves it. Loves to see how turned on Kojiro is because of him, how he's barely holding on to the vestiges of his control.
He's done waiting. He slaps Kojiro's hands away and pulls his underwear down, before pouring some of the lube onto his own hand to slick Kojiro's cock. He revels in the feel of it, both hard and velvety, enjoys the little gasps Kojiro makes as he strokes him. And when Kojiro begins to clench his jaw, fighting the short, aborted thrusts of his hips that his body wants to make, Kaoru pulls him on top of himself and guides him inside.
The slide is exquisite and too intense at once. All the while, they keep looking at each other's eyes, like they both can't believe this is happening. Kaoru is grateful that Kojiro pauses once he bottoms out. He closes his eyes, trying to get used to the way it feels to have Kojiro inside of him. He sweeps his hands all over Kojiro's body and marvels at the way his abs and back muscles ripple and tremble with the effort to stay still.
"You okay?" Kojiro asks, shaky and quiet and gentle, rubbing the tip of his nose over Kaoru's cheek.
Kaoru nods.
"Is it too much?"
"Don't flatter yourself," Kaoru says, and wraps his legs around Kojiro's waist, making him go even deeper. Making both of them moan.
Kojiro takes it as permission to move. He begins to fuck Kaoru in an agonizingly slow rhythm, adding a snap of his hips occasionally that lights every nerve in Kaoru's body on fire.
He digs his nails into those glorious shoulders and biceps. Kisses over the sun tattoo. He buries his face in Kojiro's neck and breathes in deeply. He loves how full of Kojiro's scent he feels. He hopes it will cling to him in the morning too.
"You smell so good," he says. "Always have."
Kojiro moans.
Kaoru feels overwhelmed again, with all the things he wants. Things that he can have, he reminds himself.
He begins to rub his fingers over Kojiro's lips, and Kojiro opens them. Takes Kaoru's fingers inside and begins to suck.
It’s ridiculously hot. It feels like there’s a direct line of neurons from Kaoru’s fingertips to his dick.
"I want to fuck your mouth," he says. Kojiro hums and sucks harder. "I thought about doing it earlier, when you were on your knees. I thought about telling you to stay like that. About lowering my pants and sliding my cock inside. I think you would have let me."
"I would have," Kojiro slurs around Kaoru's finger.
"Will you let me next time? Take my pleasure from you like that until it's too much? Then pull out at the end and finish all over your chest? I wonder if it looks as sexy as I imagine it does."
Kojiro's hips stutter. He moans, a little desperate, against Kaoru's lips.
"Yeah. Yes! Anything you want."
It gets Kaoru too worked up, seeing Kojiro like this. It surprises him how much he likes it. He feels a tingle of sick satisfaction knowing that he's seen this man flirt his way around dozens, maybe hundreds of women (and even a few men), but it's Kaoru who makes him fall apart like this.
Kojiro smooths his hand down to Kaoru's right ankle and lifts it to his lips, then begins to kiss up, towards Kaoru's knee. He never stops the maddening roll of his hips.
"I love your skin," he says, breathy, and places Kaoru's ankle on his shoulder. He slows down to appreciate the view. "You're gorgeous like this. Even more than I imagined."
"You’ve imagined this?"
"Mm. You have no idea," Kojiro says, voice a wonderful rumble.
"Pervert."
"Says the man who just admitted he’s been thinking about coming on my tits."
"So vulgar," complains Kaoru, but it comes out very weak. The new angle makes Kojiro hit a spot inside of him every once in a while, that sends a frisson of pleasure down his spine. Kojiro notices it. He begins to rock faster, making sure to hit the spot on every thrust.
Kaoru's skin begins to buzz with the anticipation of orgasm. He throws his head back and closes his eyes.
He gasps. "I'm… I'm close. Kojiro! I need— I—"
"I got you," Kojiro says, and wraps a hand around Kaoru's cock, teasing the tip with his thumb.
And that’s enough. Kaoru feels it, urgent and hot, rushing over him. It makes his toes curl, makes his back arch and lift off the mattress. And he opens his eyes and tries to keep them open for as long as he can, because he wants to watch Kojiro through this, wants to remember everything about this moment. And as he feels the first ribbon of wet heat across his stomach, Kojiro's movements falter, and his breath sticks in his throat. And then they're both coming. And Kojiro mumbles something about how it’s never felt like this. And all Kaoru can think is, I know.
Afterwards they end up kissing, kissing, for an undetermined amount of time. They're sticky and tired and they don't want to part. The rain falls outside in big, fat drops, but the thunder comes rarely. The storm seems to be losing its strength.
Somehow, they make it to the shower. Kaoru doesn't remember getting there. He does remember pressing his lips on every single one of the freckles on Kojiro's shoulders as water cascades over them.
Brushing their teeth turns into giving each other goofy, love struck smiles in the mirror. Kaoru feels like an overflowing cup, too full with affection.
And then they're going back to the futon, and Kojiro points to the open drawer in the dresser.
"Are all your sex toys purple, princess?"
And there it is. A slip into familiar territory. Kojiro reminding him that despite everything, it's still them. Despite how scary and big this feels, Kojiro is still his best friend who is never going to stop teasing him about the stupidest things. It settles over Kaoru's shoulders, like a warm, comforting blanket. And when he'll think about this night in the future, this right here will be his favorite part of it.
"What? I like the color."
Kojiro seems to think of something, and then his brow furrows into an adorable frown. "Wait, are they also synced with Carla, like your other gadgets?"
“Why? Are you jealous?” Kaoru asks. And then, because Kojiro is still pouting, "Of course not, asshole. Despite what you constantly insinuate, I don't have that kind of relationship with her."
Kojiro hums, satisfied with the answer. Then he pulls Kaoru halfway on top of himself. Kaoru wants to complain about being manhandled, except Kojiro's chest feels too soft and warm not to take advantage. He rests his cheek on it. He is even more content when Kojiro begins to stroke his hair.
"Hey, Cherry?"
"What is it now?" Kaoru says through a yawn.
"What do you want? As your prize, for winning."
He'd almost forgotten about it. That part of the night feels like half a lifetime ago to Kaoru.
"How about… I want you to seriously consider putting Aglio e Olio on the menu."
Kojiro nods. "Alright."
The kiss on his hair is the last thing Kaoru remembers.
❀
The breeze feels pleasant on Kaoru's bare arms. There is a constant buzz of excited voices making their way to him, and it causes his nerves to sing with a happy thrill. Crazy Rock is more crowded than it's been in ages, thanks to the news of Joe and Cherry's first beef in months.
Kaoru loves it all, the atmosphere and the excitement and the attention. He hadn't been lying when he said that he'd only stayed away because he was too busy. He plans to skate and race as long as he can, preferably with that stupid, insufferable man beside him.
Said stupid man is chatting with the brats. He's standing with his arms on his hips, jacket sliding down to show off his shoulders, and Kaoru would get annoyed at the peacocking, except he knows all that flexing and posturing is definitely for his sake.
He decides he might as well enjoy it.
Kojiro seems to feel Kaoru's gaze on him, because he ends the conversation with something that makes Reki laugh, and then he turns and looks straight at Kaoru as he lazily walks towards the start line.
"I was beginning to think you were too nervous to race me."
"Never, cinnamon stick." Kojiro grins and steps too close into Kaoru's personal space. Then he trails his fingers over Kaoru's armband and whispers, "Can you keep the outfit on when we get back home tonight?"
Kaoru quirks an eyebrow. "Really? Is this what does it for you, gorilla?"
Kojiro's eyes dance over Kaoru's face, happy and fond. "It's you, Kaoru. You're what does it for me."
"I've told you to stop using your lines on me!" Kaoru huffs, grateful that his mask covers most of his blushing cheeks.
"And I've told you they're not lines."
Somebody behind them snickers. To others, it must look like Kojiro is trying to get a rise out of Kaoru just before the race. Which he has unintentionally managed to do, if Kaoru is being honest with himself.
"So, what do you want if you win?"
"Nothing, really." Kojiro's smile is dazzling. "I'm just happy to be racing you again."
And there he goes again. Unintentionally making Kaoru’s heart skip in his chest.
And Kaoru thinks it's so annoying how flustered and stupidly in love this idiot man makes him feel.
And Kaoru thinks that even though he is guarded and private, always keeping his personal matters close to his heart, he wants to kiss Kojiro, right here, in the spotlight, in front of everyone.
And Kaoru thinks it's never been about contradictions. Not really. It's just that he's always been smart enough to make an exception for the things that he really wants.
So he leans in and whispers to Kojiro, "How about if you win, I get to kiss you at the finish line?"
And he is pleased to see the way Kojiro's smile grows even brighter.