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Date night finally comes: it’d be Japanese, three course, expensive enough for a little privacy but not enough to provoke rumours. Hiroomi didn’t spend all that time on the yahoo search engine for nothing. But all that tension from waiting was coming to this: him watching Ryuji trawl through his wardrobe, picking out progressively worse outfits. The problem was that Ryuji was not actually trying to troll him –and that was why he didn’t have the heart to tell him straight that statement jackets only worked if you weren’t also wearing silk jacquard pants and a black and red checkerboard sweater. Five pairs of rose-tinted glasses couldn’t bring Hiroomi to swear by the claim that Ryuji looked good in whatever he wore.
Ryuji was turning around, tugging at the sleeves of a borg collared leather jacket now, with his head down and bottom lip jutting out a little in concentration. Exuding girl power. Emanating pheromones. At some point Hiroomi had started adopting the language of fangirls, and it was worrying.
“Tell me honestly. Does this look bad?” Ryuji asked. His voice was devoid of narcissistic curiosity: he genuinely had no fucking idea what he was doing. Hiroomi kneaded at his chin, shifted his weight to his other foot, making a half-committed contemplative noise.
“Okay, it looks horrendous,” Ryuji concluded, judging by Hiroomi’s hesitance. The guy was polite to a fault. He didn’t wait for a response, shrugging off the jacket and then whipping off the sweater and undershirt, throwing the whole lot on the bed to join the pile of fashion failures.
“At this rate I’ll end up wearing just a tracksuit to dinner,” Ryuji lamented, turning again to consider the wardrobe. His arms came up behind him, crossing behind his head.
“Black jeans, white tee, keep the jacket.” Hiroomi’s words were clipped because he was busy stealing glances at the silky ripple of his back muscles.
“That’s kinda dull isn’t it? Maybe I’ll ask Naoto-san.”
“He’ll suggest something indecent.”
Ryuji, still facing away, chuckled at the word. His hand slipped surreptitiously down the back of his neck. “Like, tight pants?”
“Leather.” Interest piqued, Hiroomi played along.
“Ripped jeans.” Ryuji’s hands slowly dropped to his sides, where his fingers traced the waistband of his trousers. His hands trembled a little. So many years and still so shy. Dinner began to drift to the back of Hiroomi’s mind, planned destination, the folder of plans ruined because Ryuji found something in him to play seductive.
“Jacquard’s good too.”
Ryuji looked back at him, eyebrows raised and mouth an O. “Ja-what?”
Hiroomi put his face in his hands, trembling with contained laughter. Ryuji had unwittingly ran a knife (or maybe a foam scimitar) right through the mood. Fuck he loved the guy.
“The ones you’re wearing, Ryuji,” he chuckled, stepping closer, splaying his hands over Ryuji’s shoulder blades. Shimmying down. He felt Ryuji’s ribcage expand with a sharp intake of breath. His skin was warm, marigold in the hushed bedroom light. His mouth almost touched the soft spot behind Ryuji’s ear. He breathed in the bare scent of his body. No cologne, no perfume, just Ryuji. He wanted to smell how it would intensify with the rising heat of his body.
“Are they too dressy for the place we’re going to?” Ryuji tipped his head slowly to the side, welcoming the touch of Hiroomi’s nose against his nape.
“I don’t know –let me stare at you a little more.”
Ryuji’s heart leapt to his throat from those murmured words. It was an exhilarating feeling, to be wanted by Hiroomi, and he had hardly done a thing (wait, that sounds slack doesn’t it). But this was one of those rare occasions where he wanted play a little. No cameras, no choreography, just instinct and Hiroomi’s eyes on him.
As pretty as it sounded, Ryuji still had no fucking idea what he was doing. He was nervous as he took a half step backwards towards Hiroomi, whose hands had already strayed to the small of his back. His skin tingled from Hiroomi’s warm palms and sneaky fingers, and his lips parted in a quiet gasp when Hiroomi’s tongue flicked over the shell of his ear.
“I thought you were looking at my pants?” Ryuji reminded him. But he was grabbing at Hiroomi’s wrists, guiding his hands over his belly and then his chest. He was going there anyway; might as well speed things up a bit.
“I’m looking. And they seem to be getting tighter?”
What a pervert. So much for all those songs about friendship and sharing happiness. Ryuji did not voice this opinion. Hiroomi was right, and his pants felt tight enough to begin with. Hiroomi’s fingers expertly worked his nipples into hard little nubs, making him close his eyes in bliss, totally keen to skip out on dinner.
“Are you saying I’m fat?”
“You say the sexiest things, Ryuji.”
He nipped and sucked carefully at the sides of Ryuji’s neck, trying to save the opportunities for marking him for places more secretive: his hips, the arch of his back, all along the inside of his devilishly gorgeous legs. Hiroomi would’ve thought that he was getting ahead of himself if Ryuji hadn’t boldly pushed one of his groping hands towards his crotch.
“Naughty,” he reprimanded, smirking at how that one word made Ryuji shudder in anticipation. Down his pelvis he went, lingering at the low waistband of his pants, and then his fingernails scraped lightly over his fly.
“Properly.”
Hiroomi ignored his partner’s breathy demand, intent on rubbing and pinching at his nipple and ghosting over his erection until he utterly runs out of patience. Ryuji growled, rolling his hips back against him, grinding his butt against his erection –fuck yes, this was totally what he was after. And so he stepped back, not touching him altogether.
Hiroomi sat heavily onto the foot of the bed, the motion making the clothes pile topple over; all those jackets that he owned identical copies of and all those tops he bought him for birthdays and Christmases. He beckoned Ryuji closer. His own jacket comes off, shirt buttons are popped open, so that he could watch Ryuji watch him. Those dark, dark eyes scanned over him, and then the tip of his tongue peeked out to wet his upper lip. Hiroomi decided that jacquard pants suited Ryuji best when he was wearing nothing else with it apart from a hard on and that goddamn expression.
Ryuji was actually taking his time to stalk closer, hips swaying just a little. It looked slightly awkward so he’d obviously learnt this somewhere (must have a word with Elly). Still, it doesn’t make Hiroomi one bit less turned on.
Ryuji straddled him slowly, his pants pulling taut in all the right places. As Ryuji’s hands came to rest upon his shoulders, Hiroomi’s gaze drifted over his body, drinking in the sight of him. He ran his palms up his spread thighs, feeling the thrumming heat of his body through the ornate burgundy silk.
“You’re so cute, baby.”
The compliment made Ryuji’s eyes widen, and then giggle shyly. Predictably, his laughter just made Hiroomi even harder. He kissed and licked at his belly, and then scraped his teeth teasingly over his hipbone, until he had Ryuji breathing hard and squirming. Growling appreciatively, he reached around to palm his ass. Ryuji’s grip on his shoulder tightened when his fingers began to stroke between his buttcheeks. The mattress squeaked as Ryuji tried to shift himself closer, and more clothes tumbled off the edge of the bed. Ryuji’s nails dug incessantly into his skin as his touch got progressively greedier. He nosed at Ryuji’s erection. Ryuji licked at his lips with a soft whimper. Hiroomi’s head grew heavy with the scent of Ryuji’s arousal, and before long he totally succumbed to the urge to nuzzle and mouth at him through his pants.
“Ugh –oh my god –Omi, please.”
Panting, eyes blown, Ryuji grinded against his face. It was totally clumsy and desperate and hot as fuck. Hiroomi unzipped him, pulled down his pants and briefs, yanked it all off Ryuji’s legs, leaving the jacquard trousers tumbling to the floor in a pleasingly crumpled heap.
“Lie down. Knees on the bed. Ass up.”
Ryuji complied immediately and without question –a mark of how far gone he was, because the request was utterly lewd.
He retrieved the lube and condoms from the bedside drawer and then kneeled behind him, brain short-circuiting at the sight of Ryuji, trembling and willing and eager.
Teeth worrying at his bottom lip, Hiroomi reached out to stroke; from the soft underside of his knees, up the back of his thighs, over his smooth, bare ass.
“Spread your legs wider for me.”
Ryuji was this close to breaking into hysterical laughter because this was embarrassing and exciting as hell and he was looking back at his lover, face beet red and wet lips parted in a silent plead.
“Oh –oh, Omi.”
He shuddered and whimpered when warm, slick digits began to stroke at his opening. His dick hung aching and hard between his legs but he was content to be at Hiroomi’s mercy, letting him tease and work him open. Fire danced through his veins. The sheets crumpled in his clenched fists. Hiroomi’s knuckles grazed that spot inside him, making him cry out and spasm around him.
“You want it, baby? Tell me.”
Hiroomi’s sexy, gritty voice came to him through the haze of his lust. He nodded, rocking back against his questing fingers. The fire in his veins heightened, turning from red to cobalt.
“Out loud, Ryuji. Come on.”
His fingers leave him completely with an obscene squelch. He whimpered at the loss, tears beading at the corner of his eyes.
“I want you, Omi. I want –please. Please.”
Begging is good. Begging is excellent.
Hiroomi climbed over him, trembling lips tracing over the ridge of Ryuji’s blushing ear.
“You want me raw, Ryuji?”
“Yes.”
Ryuji’s voice was small and hoarse with want.
The crazy thud of his heart was almost debilitating as he slicked himself up and drew Ryuji’s hips even higher with shaking hands. He rubbed his shaft against him, once, twice, feeling that sweet burn in the pit of his stomach.
Ryuji begged him again, willingly enslaved by the agony of waiting.
Hiroomi spoke his name and eased himself in.
Delicious, wet heat. Slow and indulgent. Right up to the hilt. The shimmer of sweat between Ryuji’s shoulderblades and the arch of his back. His eager moans. The dance of light and shadow over bone and sinew and hot skin.
Hiroomi bit down on his bottom lip, shuddering as he waited for Ryuji to adjust to the intrusion. He saw flashes of white whenever his channel squeezed around him. With light strokes over his weeping cock and thighs, he encouraged Ryuji to relax. This was a real test of patience but he’d always, always wait for Ryuji. In bed, on stage, and everywhere in between.
Ryuji’s breathing evens out eventually. He glanced back at him with black eyes that reflected pure and honest desire. Hiroomi took hold of his hips and began to move. He grunted with unabashed pleasure with every slow thrust. Ryuji ordained the sheets with beautiful gasps and moans, and he was white-knuckled with how desperately he clung onto the bed.
“More,” he moaned.
Sex reduces him to monosyllable demands, unfailingly.
“Anything you want, baby,” he promised breathlessly, fingers tightening on Ryuji’s hips, close to pulling him back to meet his every thrust. Ryuji pushed back just as keenly, hair dishevelled from how the side of his head was pressed into the mattress. His neck protested from the angle, and if he was honest with himself he’d say that it was getting hard to breathe like this. But he would rather focus on the feeling of Hiroomi reinforcing his privilege –better yet, his ownership –by fucking him passionate and hard, right into the mattress. Oh, it felt amazing, Hiroomi’s cock pulsing inside him, Hiroomi’s greedy fingers gripping his body with bruising strength. The way Hiroomi’s thighs met the back of his with wet slaps on every thrust, the way he grunted and moaned obscenities between laboured breaths.
“Omi,” Ryuji panted with a shiver. He wanted to be held. He wanted to kiss him and feel his name being pronounced against his own mouth with sweet passion. And of course Hiroomi looped an arm around him straight away, pressing his chest against his back, mouth raining kisses all over his neck and shoulder, so warm and perfect.
“Does it feel good, baby?” Hiroomi murmured into his ear.
Difficult to respond in words when Hiroomi was striking his sweet spot and palming his dick at the same time. His thighs trembled from the strain of holding himself up when his body was being assaulted with blinding pleasure.
“Mmf. Omi.” That was all he managed before another thrust and stroke turned him into putty. His moans escalate gradually into half-shouts as Hiroomi worked him fast towards his peak. It had been far too long since they had connected like this. He didn’t want it to be over. Ryuji held on frantically, trying not to tumble over. His lover apparently would have none of this –pounding into him twice as hard, he fisted his erection, pumping and teasing the sensitive head, until he was legitimately stricken with tears from the sheer need for release.
“That’s it baby. Come for me, Ryuji.”
One more thrust and he does, spilling over Hiroomi’s hand and then the sheets with a muffled scream. His nerves were alight with the pale fire of his orgasm, and his body shook from the force of it. Still he stopped himself from collapsing in a boneless heap, driving himself back against Hiroomi’s frenzied thrusts as best as he can to coax his partner towards joining him in numbing, unadulterated bliss. Hiroomi couldn’t be far, not with how his channel was spasming and squeezing around his cock as he indulgently rode out the waves of his orgasm. Hiroomi’s teeth came down hard on his shoulder, turning his groan into a sexy and primal growl, and then he felt Hiroomi shudder and climax hard inside him, making him gasp and whimper in shameless delight.
Hiroomi’s hips bucked sporadically, trying to prolong the pleasure as his come bloomed inside Ryuji. He found some strength in him to roll them over so that he wouldn’t crush Ryuji beneath his weight, but it also meant that he could freely touch that smooth and gorgeous body. Hiroomi kissed the red dents that his teeth had left on Ryuji’s flesh. The gesture was soothing as well as possessive. Well aware of Ryuji’s heightened sensitivity post orgasm, he ran his hands sensually and languidly over him: up the top of his thighs, over his bruised hips, the warm and sticky mess on his stomach, his heaving ribcage and thrumming heart.
Ryuji shuddered pleasantly and sighed from the attention.
“I love you, Omi.”
He’s almost always the one to say it first, to leave Hiroomi speechless and brilliantly flushed. Ryuji was nuzzling back against him, his laughter soft and beautiful.
“And you love me too, I’m guessing.”
“Geez, I was just about to say it.”
“Then say it again.”
Ryuji wriggled maliciously with Hiroomi still inside him. The way a little of his come leaked out from his ass due to the movement made both of them red with embarrassment.
“Fine. I love you,” Hiroomi relented, though he meant it. He coaxed him into forgiveness with a tender kiss to the underside of his jaw. The bedroom, cluttered with clothes, seemed to be awash in the faintly golden haze of their lovemaking. They shared a moment of heavenly silence, just lightly touching and feeling, exchanging sloppy kisses.
“Do you mind if we miss the reservation?” Ryuji asked lethargically.
“I’m pretty sure we already missed it, Ryuji,” he chuckled back.
“Can we go again?”
From the way that Ryuji’s voice had dropped to a shy murmur, Hiroomi knew very well that he didn’t mean the restaurant.
“Of course,” Hiroomi returned with a slow smile. “How soon? Half an hour? Fifteen minutes? Now?”
The tip of Ryuji’s ears were already turning red. Beautiful, gorgeous, his from head to toe.
“ASAP,” Ryuji decided with a not-manly giggle, making Hiroomi’s thoughts turn into word soup. All those clothes might as well stay in a goddamn mountain for the rest of the night.