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Shimotsuki - the month of frost, the eleventh month of the year.
Mitch can’t remember exactly how long he and Alex were a thing. He doesn’t even know if they still are. Life goes on and shapes the memories into something distorted and unrecognizable. Whenever Mitch saw Alex his heart fluttered and he hated how he’d stutter, how his lips would go dry, and how his heart beat like a drum in his chest whenever he wanted to ask Alex that one eternal question.
Stay with me. Forever, ever?
Everything. Alex was everything.
(And it’s toxic to think like that, to have someone you pin your livelihood too, but Mitch can’t help it.)
He remembers kissing in the rain, encompassed by his lover’s strong arms, and the warmth they radiated. The more intimate moments, the passionate kisses from Alex; his skin, his cheeks, his neck, that spot behind his right ear that made his knees buckle.
He remembers being drowned and only hoping to be pulled down even further.
Alex was his retreat from life, draining University courses and a stressful part-time job that has been chipping away at him afore he was taken by Alex. His Alex.
Alex awed him, fueled him, and was there for him when no one else was. Mitch knows he owes Alex for everything he’s given him.
It’s the middle of November, the air cold and snappy, nature deep into its cyclical rebirth. Mitch necks a bottle of beer and wonders why he came out to this bar in the first place. It’d be a lie to say he’s never been here, to say he hasn’t found himself in this bar a few times. Every 6 weeks, he comes out with his colleagues to escape the monotony of University life. He drinks the same drink, sits in the same chair, and necks the same shots. Something good, something consistent. The universe knows Mitch could use something routine in his life after moving across the world, alone, to dreary London for school.
Tonight, however, he was alone. Everyone else had flocked away to the costume party one of the posh, rich kids had thrown and Mitch had decided to fly solo for the night.
Absently, Mitch puts places down his glass on the bar and asks the bartender for a refill. She bends down and pops up a few moments later with a new bottle. She deftly pops the cap and and flings it behind her, stating the price of the new beer as she deposits it on the bar. Mitch slides his hand into his pocket to get out his wallet when a hand reaches from behind him and hands the bartender a £20 note, which she takes without the slightest hesitation. Mitch spins around and looks straight into chocolate brown eyes, crinkled with amusement.
Mitch looks at him, really looks at him; he’s older, but not by much. He’s had multiple older guys look him over with a wandering eye before, but their affections were always turned away. The man is in that grey area of cute and sexy, and it’s quite unnerving.
Before he can even say ‘thank you’, the stranger bends down to whisper in his ear. Hot breath ghosting over his neck and making a shiver creep down to the base of his spine.
“What is a pretty little thing like you doing out here all by yourself?”
The smooth, baritone voice of the stranger wasn’t unexpected, but the smirk on the stranger's face when he was the target of Mitch’s heated glare was a complete surprise, agitation curling in his stomach like a lazy snake.
Mitch takes a swig of his beer in a weak attempt to diffuse the miasma of emotions threatening to ruin his composure.
“I’m not. My friends are here with me,” Mitch traces circles onto the frosted glass of his bottle, and stares at the pellet of condensation skim its way down the bottle in a bid to avoid eye contact with the stranger.
The grin he receives from the man the tells him everything he needs to know about what he thinks about that, rich chocolate eyes glittering in the low-light of the bar as he runs a calloused hand through his hair.
A few moments pass in tense, static silence as the man continues to assess Mitch with intense, calculating stare. He does have beautiful eyes, Mitch admits to himself. Deep, brilliant pools of chocolate that you couldn’t help but get hopelessly lost in.
“What is your name?”
A simple question. “Mitch.”
“Alex.”
Alex. The name sounds familiar. Mitch tries to dredge up where he’s heard the name, but comes up frustratingly short of any possible answers.
“Age?” The man- (Alex, Mitch chides himself) continues to prod, unabashed.
“Young,” Mitch lets the question slide off him like water.
Alex lets out a laugh, a delightful little noise that almost makes Mitch smile. He crosses his arms instead, attempting to look tough and failing miserably.
“What is it really?” Alex asks candidly, moving over to stand next to Mitch. The soft light casting Alex in the likeness of an ethereal, phantasm-like glow.
“18. Why does it matter to you so much?!” Mitch snaps back, rage beginning to bubble up through him. Alex holds up his hands placatingly.
“It’s just you look so young,” Alex begins, the corners of his mouth turning upwards. “That I’m not sure if you’re legally allowed to buy alcohol.” Mitch says nothing, only glaring fiercely.
Alex snorts and flops onto the barstool beside Mitch’s. His body language is completely open and relaxed, arm propped against the bar with his legs spread wider than they needed to be.
“Well luckily for you,” Alex taps the beer bottle in front of Mitch that the Kiwi had yet to touch. “I’m 19 so responsible enough to make sure you don’t get yourself into any sort of trouble.” He winks at the shorter man as Mitch looks away, choosing to glare at the beer bottle instead.
“...And I can tell from your accent that you’re not from the UK,” Alex queries gently, as if he’s approaching a scared animal, and is afraid of startling it. Ironically, Alex’s sudden change of tone starttls Mitch even more. He shifts on his stool defensively. “Where are you really from?” Alex tries another angle.
There’s a pause, Mitch deliberating over his reply.
“New Zealand,” Mitch answers truthfully, because what’s the point in lying at this stage?
Alex smiled faintly, his teeth shining like diamonds in the muted glow of the pub. “Alright then, Kiwi,” He jests lightly. “Why are you so far from home?” The taller man cocks his head to one side, attention completely focused on Mitch.
Mitch quirks his eyebrow at the peculiar nickname, but decides to let it slide for now. “I’m studying Marine Biology at Royal Holloway.”
“That’s in Egham, right?” Alex questions with a smile. Mitch nods, taking a sip of his beer.
“What do you enjoy doing in your off time?” Alex prods.
“Curious, aren’t you?” Mitch teases good heartedly. “I don’t really get out much,” The Kiwi admits with a shrug. “I’m still getting a feel for around here and I usually only go out for food, drinks, or the gym.”
Alex nods thoughtfully at him before smiling. Mitch can see the lights on the ceiling reflect in his eyes.
“Well,” Alex takes a swing of his own drink before leaning forward to Mitch, looking as if he was about to tell the shorter man something secret. Mitch, finding himself transfixed in Alex’s gaze, leans in as well. “Luckily for you, I’m in my second year of accounting,” The Brit’s voice gets even quieter so Mitch was forced to lean closer. “And I’m more than happy to show you more of the exclusive places,” Alex wiggles his eyebrows suggestively as Mitch leans back abruptly.
“What makes you assume I don’t already have someone?” Mitch sticks his nose in the air haughtily. If this is happening, I might as well have some fun, Mitch thinks.
Alex blinks for a second and Mitch smiles inwardly at the fact that he was able to knock the taller man off his high horse - if only for a second. The corners of Alex’s mouth turn upwards again and Mitch found himself wanting to kiss those lips.
“Well, in that case, would you ever fancy having a bit on the side?” Alex’s lips twitch and Mitch gets the distinct impression that he can see right through the Kiwi’s façade.
“I’m thinking about it…” Mitch admits, staring at the empty beer-bottle with slightly glazed eyes, the alcohol in his system giving him a faint buzz.
Alex stares at him for a few moments, a peculiar glint lingering in his eyes.
“Well I only live a short walk away…” Alex trails off, for the first time this evening he’s genuinely unsure whether or not he’s overstepping some sort of boundary.
Mitch swallows, deep in thought of a moment before nodding. The movement is barely visible to the naked eye, but that was all the encouragement Alex needs. He’d picked up his drink and downed it before Mitch could open his mouth to comment. The Brit motions for Mitch to follow him and strode out of the bar, Mitch following behind.
He didn't know if it was the alcohol in his system or the adrenaline racing through his veins but Mitch remembers absolutely nothing about the journey to Alex’s house. He vaguely remembers the Brit pointing out some famous landmarks along the way but that was about it.
When the two of them get inside, Alex motions around the flat with a smug grin, obviously proud that he owned a flat in one of the most expensive parts of London.
Mitch looks around with a bored, unimpressed look on his face. It’s not that he finds the flat sub-par in anyway (In fact he quite likes it’s homely atmosphere), he just wants to tease a reaction out of the Brit.
Alex stares at him, mood turning from proud to deflated as he catches sight of Mitch’s expression.
“What?” Alex frowns. “You don’t like it?” Mitch turns to him with a smirk.
“Lets just hope your cock’s more impressive than your housing arrangements…”
The taller man is on him in an instant, pushing Mitch onto the couch before the Kiwi could protest. Mitch lets out a squeak as Alex straddles him, each tangling their fingers in the other’s hair as Alex pulls him in for a bruising kiss.
“You’re a sassy little shit, aren’t you?” Alex growls, detaching his lips from Mitch’s. Mitch only snorts a laugh in reply, using his grip on Alex’s hair to pull him back into the kiss.
The shorter man pushes his tongue into Alex’s mouth, earning a moan from the other man.
Mitch moves a hand to clutch at Alex’s thigh, tugging slightly so the Brit shuffles forward and presses their cocks together through their trousers. Alex moans even louder. Mitch hadn’t really expected him to be this vocal but to say the noises weren’t turning him on would be a lie.
They groan in unison when their hips meet, Mitch grinding up against Alex as he felt the taller man’s thighs twitch. Mitch can feel Alex’s cock pressing against his own, groaning once again when he felt the size of it, even behind several layers of clothing. He wriggles his hips in anticipation as he thinks of himself sitting on it.
Alex’s grip on Mitch’s hair is almost painful as the Kiwi started to unbutton Alex’s shirt, delighting in the hard muscle that was revealed.
“Wow, Ace,” Mitch drawls, sitting up slightly and bringing his lips up to Alex’s ear. “Is this all for me?” Alex imagines the other man’s cock-sure grin, even without having to open his eyes. Mitch lets out a breathy laugh, the hot breath ghosting over the taller man’s neck making him shiver.
Alex can’t bring himself to form a coherent reply so he slides the shirt off his shoulders and lowers his mouth onto Mitch’s once again. The Brits hands travel to the polo shirt clinging to Mitch’s torso, fisting in the fabric before dragging it upwards and revealing the taut, chiseled muscles of the Kiwi’s abs.
Making a noise of irritation, Mitch moves his head back slightly, unlocking his lips from Alex’s so the man could get the shirt over Mitch’s head. Alex snorts in amusement as the shirt gets stuck around his jawline for a moment.
Mitch growls in frustration, carelessly flinging his hands up and ripping the shirt off. Now it was his turn to do the real work. He gives Alex a small shove and maneuvers the two of them so Alex is lying back on the sofa cushions, Mitch now perched on Alex’s knees. He looks down at the challengingly.
Alex meets his gaze, smirking. He pulls at Mitch’s arm and the Kiwi collapses on top of him, groaning at the new contact with Alex’s burning skin.
Digging his nails into Alex’s shoulders to give himself balance, Mitch feels the taller driver slide a hand past the waistband of his jeans, squeezing his ass firmly. Mitch allows himself to groan into Alex’s mouth, arching his back to give the taller man better access.
The Brit bites at Mitch’s lip, almost breaking the skin of his lip as the Kiwi calls out in a heady mix of pain and pleasure. He digs his nails into the shorter man’s sensitive skin, drawing out another whimper before he presses a cold finger against Mitch’s hole.
Mitch tenses for a second, more sounds falling from his mouth listlessly. Increasing the pressure when he felt Mitch relax under his touch, Alex encourages him to breathe deeply.
“We can stop here if you’d like…” Alex breathes.
Mitch glares at him, heatedly. “Why would we stop now? Pick up the pace!” Mitch snaps fiercely.
Alex smirks, but doesn’t say anything, too focused on actions rather than words. Instead, he bites down on Mitch’s ear, eliciting a low moan from the Kiwi.
Increasing the pressure, Alex feels his finger penetrate the tight ring of muscle, Mitch making more high-pitched sounds. Alex grunts as he feels Mitch tighten around his finger, almost cutting off the circulation.
Willing himself to relax, Mitch breathes deeply and allows Alex’s finger to breach him further. He makes a noise Alex has only ever heard in porn when the finger brushes over his prostate. Mitch jolts at the sensation.
Mitch shoves his jeans further down his hips with shaking hands, trying to give Alex more room. He makes the most needy sound that the taller man feels almost privileged to hear. He makes use of the new room available to him, sliding his finger in and out of Mitch until he feels the Kiwi’s toes start to uncurl.
“I have some lube in the top draw…” Alex mumbles into Mitch’s ear, motioning at the small chest of drawers beside the sofa. The shorter man grunts in acknowledgement and flings an arm out to retrieve it.
Alex busies himself with tousling Mitch's hair, making it very difficult for him to focus on the task at hand. He slides a hand down Mitch’s flank, the Kiwi barely suppressing a shiver.
He makes a small sound of triumph as he finds the lube, depositing it in Alex's free hand with a sultry smirk on his face.
Alex smirks back, moving so Mitch could completely rid himself of his jeans. It has the advantage of allowing Mitch to spread his legs wider as he sits back down on Alex's legs, making a small noise as the coarse denim of the Brit’s jeans scratches the back of his thighs.
Mitch presses his face into Alex's shoulder, sticking his ass out slightly in an effort to get the taller man to pick up the pace. Mitch would tell him to do so but he's almost overcome with desperation at this point so he doubts he'd be able to find the words.
Squirting a generous amount onto his hand, Alex inserts his finger into Mitch’s ass. The Kiwi flinches momentarily at the cold before turning boneless and melting into Alex’s chest. The taller man thrusts his finger in and out a few times before quickly adding a second.
He feels Mitch’s fingers curl against his shoulder, nails scraping skin as he tries to find something to ground him. Being merciful, Alex gives him a moment to adjust to the initial intrusion, only the tips of his fingers breaching Mitch.
When he feels Mitch start to relax, the tightness around his digits loosening slightly, he presses his fingers in further. He keeps the pressure constant, sliding them into Mitch even when the Kiwi tenses.
Alex’s knuckles hit Mitch’s ass and he withdraws them immediately, working them slowly in and out of him in a movement that was too slow for Mitch’s liking. The shorter man presses his ass back onto Alex’s fingers, hissing at the burn.
A firm hand on his hip immediately stops him.
“Don’t want you to hurt yourself…” Alex murmurs in his ear. He crooks his fingers and brushes over Mitch’s prostate, eliciting a groan from him as the Kiwi breaks down into a fit of shivers.
After thrusting his fingers in and out once more, Alex adds a third. Mitch barely feels the stretch, delighting in the full feeling it gave him.
Growing impatient, Alex doesn’t spend much longer preparing Mitch. He slides his fingers out several times before grunting and giving Mitch a small shove.
The Kiwi takes the hint and moves off of Alex, although that’s easier said than done as his legs have lost almost all feeling. He sits, half sprawled out, along the sofa as Alex stands, hands already moving to unbutton his jeans.
Mitch wriggles his hips in anticipation as he waits for Alex to reveal himself. His eyes are transfixed on the Brit’s happy trail as Alex kicks off his shoes. He glances at Mitch with a smirk before beginning to wriggle out of his trousers.
Mitch didn’t know what he expected but Alex was certainly big. Mitch was sure he could remember taking bigger but that didn’t make Alex’s cock any less impressive.
The Brit stands with his arms by his sides, staring at Mitch and completely unashamed of himself. It takes the Kiwi a long time to draw his eyes away, to look back up at Alex’s face. The expression in the taller man’s eyes almost makes Mitch come right there. Instead he just whimpers with quiet desperation.
Alex is on him in a heartbeat. He pulls at Mitch’s waist and the Kiwi finds himself sliding down the cousins, Alex looming over him. He feels like the wind has been knocked out of him, eyes going slightly hazy as he stares at Alex’s form, the light behind them casting his face in shadows.
He tilts his hips up in offering, trying to convey meaning through actions instead of the words he could barely think of. Alex seems to get the message.
He goes to kiss Mitch for a second before stopping halfway down. He makes a small noise and moves back, turning to fumble around in the draw for a condom.
Alex rips it with his teeth, goes to put it on before Mitch stops him with a tentative hand to the wrist.
“Let me.” Mitch phrases it more like a question. His eyes are dark as he looks up at Alex. The Brit finds himself nodding, letting Mitch take the condom from him.
Alex groans as Mitch touches his cock. Mitch smirked to himself and gives Alex a teasing tug before rolling the condom on.
Mitch keeps his grip on Alex’s cock, guiding it into his ass as Alex sinks forward onto his elbows, lips centimeters from Mitch’s ear.
Alex feels all the air escape him as he presses in, feels the flutter of Mitch’s muscles around him. He lets out a breathy groan into Mitch’s ear, the Kiwi replying with a moan of his own a few moments later.
Mitch’s nails scratch at the skin over his shoulder blades and Alex knows he’ll have marks there for several days.
When he bottoms out for the first time, Alex allows the two of them to have some time to adjust. With all honesty, Alex thinks he’ll come straight away if he starts moving any sooner. He feels Mitch breathing heavily in his ear, breath tickling the short hairs at the nape of Alex’s neck.
“Move,” Mitch whispers. Alex wasn’t one to deny him.
His hips snap back and then forward again, much faster than he intended. He sees Mitch get pushed up the sofa by the force of his thrust. He hesitates, but only for a moment, checking that Mitch was ok with it before he started thrusting in earnest.
Alex bit at Mitch’s neck as he thrust at a fast but steady pace. He could taste the sweat on Mitch’s skin as he chose a spot to suck a vivid red mark.
Mitch’s noises started to rise in volume and Alex honestly hoped that the neighbours could hear. He whimpered as Alex’s lips attached to his neck, one hand curling around Alex’s shoulder while the other clung to his hip, trying to force Alex’s cock deeper inside of him with each thrust.
He presses his hips forward, Alex obviously not going fast enough for him.
The Brit actually growls at him and Mitch swears he’s never been more turned on in his life.
Alex then gets an iron grip on Mitch’s hips, restricting all movement so the Kiwi is completely at his mercy. The taller man straightens his back, Mitch feeling all the smaller when he sees Alex’s chiseled form towering over him.
With one hand still on Mitch’s hips, Alex takes a hold of Mitch’s neglected cock which was leaking against his stomach. He keeps direct eye contact with the shorter man as he starts to thrust, stroking Mitch’s cock in sync with his deep thrust.
Mitch makes a high-pitched sound, making some garbled sound that Alex imagines is something along the lines of: ‘I’m gonna come.’
It doesn’t take long for Alex to be proved right as Mitch is shaking with his release within seconds, depositing his load all over his own stomach.
Mitch’s spasming muscles send Alex over the edge, he grunts and the edges of his vision turn grey as he collapses on top of Mitch, their heaving chests pressed together.
Alex feels the Kiwi’s hand on the nape of his neck, pulling the taller man closer. Neither speak or move for what feels like a lifetime. For a moment, Mitch thinks Alex has fallen asleep on him before he hears a snarky comment.
“So is my dick better or worse than my flat?”
Mitch mumbles something that faintly sounds like: ‘Your dick was better.’
Alex chuckles and Mitch finds that he likes his warm, soft laugh. Finds that he likes Alex’s snarkiness and his posh, British accent and maybe, just maybe he likes Alex himself.
With these thoughts and the steady, strong rhythm of Alex’s heartbeat, Mitch finds himself lulled to sleep.
Mitch goes home the next morning, still feeling hungover, with pliant limbs and a pounding headache.
Alex drives home with a smile on his face, seemingly unaffected by the liquor he drank the night before. Mitch didn’t care though, he presses his face against the cold glass of the car and watches Alex out of the corner of his eye, beaming and elated.
A few more moments pass in silence before Mitch shatters it. “So, what are we now?”
Alex doesn’t take his eyes off the road. “Whatever you want us to be, babe,” He says softly.
Mitch hesitates for a moment, before going over the precipice. “I’d like us to be a thing,” He breathes, worrying his lip.
Alex smiles at him, teeth brighter than the sun. “I’d like that too. I’d really like that.”
They spend the rest of the journey getting to know each other. Their likes, dislikes, and childhoods. Mitch tells Alex about Auckland, the glistening yachts in the Harbor and the skyscrapers that shone in the inky black night. Soon after, they exchange numbers since they seem set on doing this whole relationship thing.
Alex listens intently, hanging onto every word that comes out of the Kiwi’s mouth.
Eventually, they make it to Mitch’s flat. As the Kiwi is about to get out, he feels a hand on the small of his back and turns around.
“Call me, babe,” Alex murmurs, stretching over to give Mitch a quick kiss.
Mitch grins. “You know I will, Ace,” The Kiwi enjoys seeing the fond smile that blooms on the Brit’s face at hearing his nickname.
After that, Alex takes off down the road. Leaving Mitch feeling strangely empty.
Sighing, the Kiwi turns around and begins his trek back to his flat. Better things are coming, Evans, he thinks fondly. Better things are coming.
And, surrounded by the cold wind and overcast skies of November, Mitch can’t help but think he’s on the right track.
fin