Chapter Text
**
He lifts from the floor, back arching.
Arms restrained, held on high. A threaded connection rocking in tandem.
Knees folding inward, heat circulating between sturdy hips.
He tastes sweat within a haze of liquor. A spate of bruises, virulent with every snap.
Pleasure mounting, tempo heightened. It’s so much, so much, so much.
Shigeo softly wails into a burning ear.
Possession bites into his waist.
A harmony incomparable.
It’s everything he’s ever wanted.
“So he didn’t come.”
Her tone is without inflection, a mere statement that sits between them. An invitation for Shigeo to unberth his blatant discontent as she saddles casually up to his side, leans against him. His mood has been in shambles all day, torn between a celebration months in the making—one that had blurred into a decade’s worth of hopes and dreams—and the utter disaster of his selfish choices many hours prior.
“No, Tsubomi, he didn’t.”
There isn’t much else to say; there is much she isn’t privy to, many of the people here in attendance aren’t. To them, peering through the looking glass shows an intricate friendship worn by distance, fraying for years. An unfortunate turn of events born from tragic circumstances.
Tragic circumstances that Shigeo has seen the buildup to up close and personal—of sobs so visceral they shook a frame now smaller than his; a desolate studio apartment turned upside down due to an irascible bender; a grip so hard, shaking and borderline painful—until the only option left to his mentally anguished best friend was to escape as far away as possible. Teru had held his hands up so long to keep it at bay that now they lay broken and unable to stop the carnage dumped upon his suffocating microcosm, snippy phone calls and lofty demands and not an ounce of emotional support.
Shigeo had never been so heartbroken, watching the person who slowly became one of the most important facets in his own reawakening become so weighed down and broken by people who barely even bothered to acknowledge him outside the trophy that was his accolades. The bigger the better, blocking the scene behind the curtains.
The look given to him all those years ago, the final moments before something uncoupled completely in their relationship—forlorn, an ocean of blue polluted by inescapable grief.
And last night—
Teru had looked so. . . afraid to see him last night. Afraid and still, still, still fiercely battling inside. Yet when Shigeo pierced through those assertions drenched in falsehood, on the other side was a dangerous storm—brim with thunder and an unmistakable want felt so keenly it took his breath away. Its rain poured over him, emboldened his own cacophony of tenderness and hurt and confusion until virtually every other thought was overwritten.
All that remained was a monstrous drive to seep it into every pore he touched, imbibe on a man strung out and teeming with a passion that clearly only bled for Shigeo even when it hurt.
Especially because it hurt.
God, what has he done?
Tsubomi hums, twisting her hands as a breeze brushes past them. Shigeo offers her a mellow barrier of telekinesis, instills it with a comfortable hearth of warmth. The late morning sunshine, the bustle of getting people in place and the adrenaline of the day itself had clearly kept her comfortable even in her silk, strapless gown. Only now does it settle, the abnormally cold autumnal front prickling on contact.
She makes a noise of relief as she relaxes, her gaze outcast at a small group of children eating—chocolate cake chaos apparent even from a distance.
“Well, it was worth a shot, right?”
Distracted, Shigeo offers a congenial smile, shoulder rolling. Can’t make heads or tails of Teru’s demeanor, his insistence that he was bred of rot and any proximity would instill atrophy.
A skipping record he’s unable to ignore, the thought has been turning and turning in his head for hours on end—through last preparations and his brother fixing his tie, an intimate view of love and devotion in meticulously crafted words—trying to figure out why Teru was so bound and determined to consider himself a detriment in Shigeo’s life when Shigeo sees him as anything but.
Their bond had started on shaky ground but eventually dug its roots through dead soil until it struck a spring of new beginnings—bloomed to an extent neither of them expected. Shigeo had looked at Teru one minute, thought him a casual friend with a curious albeit justified penchant for masking his inner pathos, and the next he knew he was captivated to the point where he wouldn’t have been surprised if his heart leaped out and burst on the spot.
Impossible to deny, on full display because wearing anything less just wasn’t in his algorithm and felt like a disservice to himself.
On full display, his adoration, to everyone except Teru, it seems.
But last night—
“Do you think maybe it was because he doesn’t like me? You know, because of our history and relationship?”
Shigeo shakes his head. “He’s known we’ve been close since reconnecting years ago. . . and even then I don’t think he knew you very well, but neither does Shou and he showed up.”
“Rei-chan wouldn’t have let him or your brother out of attending no matter what, let’s be honest. She and I are like this these days, you know that.” Tsubomi punctuates with a stern cross of her fingers.
It spurns a soft hum from him. “Yeah, you’re probably right.”
“Regardless,” Tsubomi continues wistfully, returning her full focus to Shigeo. “I asked you to invite Hanazawa-kun because we talked before about how you felt. So much for giving you a chance to repair things with him. I’m sorry.”
“Mm.”
There has to be something missing. He mentally cycles through every attempted communication the last few weeks while he and Tsubomi stand in a peaceful silence they’ve long since grown to appreciate from each other. It’s easy to catch a moment of quiet when she’s nearby—her naturally brisk personality riding just enough on the edge of icy to keep most passersby away for the time being.
At least, anyone who isn’t Rei, who confidently beelines for them with phone held high.
Shigeo idly takes in her soft buttercup dress and simple yet elegant jewelry, muses that Teru would have loved that look on her.
Her clear, vibrant nature cuts their bubble in an instant. “Hey! I got the candid photos Shou took transferred over to my phone. Want me to send these to tide you over until the ones from the official photographer are done?”
Tsubomi lights up. “Oh, please do! Do you have any with the both of us?”
“Do I have photos of the main couple, the main event, the gorgeous duo blessed on this day—of course I have them~ I’ll send the good ones right away; leave it to me to parse out the most flattering angles for that beautiful decolletage.”
“You’re an absolute delight, Rei-chan, what would I have done without you?”
Rei snaps into a dramatic point, a gesture picked up from a certain blond best friend of hers. The recognition of it has Shigeo strung up inside.
“Oh, you know,” she muses. “Probably thrown over a table, had at least two more glasses of umeshu, and maybe strangled Ritsu when he kept blinking in the photos with Shigeo-kun. Speaking of which. . . hey~ You alright?”
Mildly startling at being brought to the center of attention, Shigeo regards her with friendly smile. “Yeah—yeah, I’m fine, Rei-chan. Thanks.”
“I’ll beat him up if you want me to. Just say the word and I’ll gift him a solid boot to the ass.”
“No, it’s okay, I just—it doesn’t matter.”
He can’t say anything further, wouldn’t dare lay out any of Teru’s wounds even if he’s sure Rei isn’t completely in the dark. Even more, talking about what happened the night prior is the last thing to be doing on a day like this.
He’s supposed to be celebrating love, and yet he’s fixated on an entirely different one.
It fills him with a wave of guilt.
Silence falls within the group after he trails off, each of them seemingly deep in thought—though Tsubomi immediately offers a comforting pat to Shigeo’s arm.
Where does he go from here?
Does he try again? He was already rather concerningly forceful in his conquest last night, having heard at the last minute from Rei that Teru was in fact going to be in town for a business trip, but wasn’t planning to attend the wedding.
Or answer his messages, apparently.
An ugly desperation had taken over then, the only thought racing through Shigeo’s mind was the fact that if he lost Teru this time, it might be permanent. An unreasonable thought, yet it permeated nevertheless.
Teru had already been pulling away from him more and more over time since they slept together all those years ago. Being best friends, practically inseparable all too close to being a far-gone memory. That night even more so—a fever dream. But instead of letting the cinders of their relationship grow cold, Shigeo instead was seized by a rampant bout of determinate stubbornness that crossed into the fray of his addled thoughts.
He wasn’t going to give up.
He would find him, he would talk to him.
For god’s sake, he wanted to—
Had sent his power across the entire city, remembered the ripple of his soul coasting along buildings and through organic life like clockwork, zoned in on Teru even quicker—that jittery, searing energy that zipped about in random intervals. Found the beacon that is his striking aura, threw himself together without single thought to how he looked before speeding out of home and into the night.
He hears the stress in Teru’s voice when his call finally connects.
Heartrending, Teru verbally hiding behind a curtain of self-immolation.
If he can just get him to answer the door, he will prove how wrong he is.
That he can come home, return to their orbit—his.
He kisses him, an instinctual response.
It isn’t right, he shouldn’t push so hard.
A need so prevalent that he can’t control himself.
And then, he guts himself bare.
Dares Teru to look away from the person before him that teems with appetite.
When their lips next meet, Shigeo pours into him like his life depends on it.
It’s wrong. It’s wrong, this is wrong.
But it’s never felt more right.
“Still though,” Rei huffs after a while, fixing her neckline as she peers over to where her boyfriends stand nearby. Waves to them sweetly before rounding back. “I don’t understand what got him into such a tizzy.”
Shigeo briefly bristles, irrationally defensive. “He’s. . . he’s got a lot to deal with, you know that.”
“No, I know,” she replies, shifting feet—fiddling with her bangs. “But it’s not like you were the one getting married, Shigeo-kun. Like, come on, everyone knows you’re head over heels for—”
. . .
Huh?
“Wait.”
It hits him square in the chest, a scratching dread that digs its claws in before Shigeo can even fully digest her words. His gaze jumps up to Rei, eyes wide, the suddenness of it causing Tsubomi’s expression to morph into concern.
“Shigeo?”
No, that can’t be.
Shigeo reaches for his phone, paging through his list of sent messages until he finds what he’s looking for.
“Shit.”
He can’t believe he missed it. Can’t believe the chaos of all the planning and rehearsals and trying to reach Teru at the same time blinded him to this exceedingly small, obvious detail. He had checked his phone so many times, tried calling numerous more—waiting for something, anything to connect. And the way Teru spoke to him, clearly he knew he was caught in his intentional avoidance.
Shigeo simply hadn’t realized why he was avoiding him.
Brows furrowing, Rei seems to notice the shift in his demeanor, loosely covers her mouth as she speaks lowly. “He didn’t read the text, did he?”
Tsubomi leans over, peering down at the conversation marked with no more than a ‘sent’. “Oh, you’re right. That’s. . . odd.”
No, it’s not odd at all.
It clicks into place so quickly that Shigeo almost grows nauseous, the world around him spinning off its axis. No wonder he acted the way he did, had spoken in complete contradiction to his mannerisms, soul entirely upended when laid bare.
Teru, who apparently believed that the one night stand long ago was him pushing them both into a fleeting rebound when in reality it was a chance Shigeo had grabbed onto with every ounce of strength. Teru, who spit venom through the door yet crumbled in his arms the moment they made contact.
Teru, who read the subject line in what was supposed to be Shigeo’s attempt at reconnection, because he was the one crazy about his best friend and not one partner since could override that pure distillation of want that took hold.
Teru, caught between his own feelings and the distant, oscillating light of Shigeo’s—tortured by and ultimately willing to commit to the idea that he was entirely complicit in an affair.
All because Shigeo unintentionally allowed his desperation and the passage of time to quiet his words.
“He thought it was you getting married?”
The severity in Tsubomi’s question cuts through as the pieces finally fall into place. He appraises her, finds a dour countenance.
Still, Shigeo replies, “Yes.”
It’s no longer a matter of thinking though—Teru had been convinced.
“You said you were going to tell him. Did you?”
“No.”
He offers no excuses, only scrambles to think of how to fix this. Doesn’t realize he spoke aloud again until Tsubomi pokes him hard in the shoulder.
“You fix this by finding Hanazawa-kun. You find him, and you tell him you love him. No vague claims, no assuming he knows how you feel no matter how blatant you think you are about it. Tell him point blank, because I swear to god I will find you after my honeymoon if he isn’t attached to your hip and practically living with you by the time I get back.”
Shigeo pockets his phone before proceeding to wipe his brow. “How do I even begin to make that happen? He probably won’t read anything I send him now.”
Next to him, Rei seems to think on it a moment. By this time, Ritsu and Shou have caught onto the commotion and wander over to their girlfriend, as does another woman dressed in a gown that hugs her curvy frame—the other blushing bride, Miki. Tsubomi gestures to her, welcomes a brief peck before the jovial woman regards the group. “Sorry, I got caught up with the caterer. . . what’s wrong?”
Stepping to Rei’s side, Ritsu peeks around to regard her, then Shigeo.
“Yeah, everything okay?”
She makes a small noise of acknowledgement before quietly mumbling to herself, “Teru. . . Teru. . . text messages. . . wedding. . . hmm. I wonder if, oh! I might have an idea.”
To the confusion of her boyfriends, Rei holds up her phone to Shigeo and taps the screen.
It clicks immediately; Shigeo can’t help but be grateful that someone knows Teru as well as he does and has a level, quick-witted mind on top of it.
“I’m all ears.”
**
He can’t stand it, has been pacing for over an hour now.
Shigeo knows not to expect anything. As great of an idea this is, it still relies on Teru not shutting him out completely. Relies on him, in the midst of sinking in a catastrophic level of self-deprecating misery, to potentially expose himself to more pain.
A man who once boisterously presented himself so large, yet in reality thought himself so massively small that it provokes a stab right between Shigeo’s ribs. Sharp, sending a sheer streak of incense through his entire body, the fact that he didn’t end up that way all by himself.
And he had been so wild with tunnel vision to catch Teru that he had missed the most important part.
The way Teru lifted him in his arms and took him without restraint, fell apart shortly after—dim amber light setting his features ablaze—as if the entirety of his svelte form poured wave upon wave of longing into each and every fractured movement. The flush of his ears, his choked words, deep blue irises: all of it screamed that he was drowning in a love he craved more than anything, unable to come up for air.
Melting, lost in the mire.
Shigeo should have said he loved him—last night, all those years ago. Bluntly, leaving virtually zero room for Teru to ever interpret otherwise. There is no guarantee that his words would suffice at this point, his actions wholly cruel to a person who saw them as punishment, an outright taunt of what he perceived he couldn’t have.
Somewhere in the fray, Shigeo became lost too. Chasing a ghost, reaching out where words didn’t follow.
They had been through so much together, had vulnerable evenings spent huddled in one another’s room crying through hurt. Teru was there, first to bear witness to his darkest parts reborn through a mere few steps and a death-defying impact, his persistence a beacon that awoke Shigeo from his deepest recesses. He was also the first to experience unfettered moods, his underlying mischief. And Shigeo, he saw the boy underneath a mask made of scraped together paper and tears and a grueling hope for someone to see him.
Shigeo saw him, eventually never wanted to look away, and in the process forgot to look inward, whether he was being clear enough for one who grew up swiping through the fog. He had thought he’d been so utterly obvious with how everyone around them teased him constantly. Questioned time and again why he kept torturing himself by dating other people when what he wanted was so clearly a single person and that person alone.
But trauma has a way of obscuring blatant truths, chances slipping through the cracks like sand collecting fruitlessly in a broken hourglass.
Shigeo checks his watch.
It’s been a long while, the sun already starting its gradual descent towards the horizon. He shouldn’t expect anything. A quick and clean solution is probably a pipedream—not to mention that they’ll have a lot of damage to fix if they even see each other again.
God, there is a chance he’ll never see him again, isn’t there?
He had this sinking dismay last night too—
Shigeo trails close behind.
Seizing anxiety that blooms the moment Teru disappears into the bathroom.
It springs him to his feet, has him fumbling with a gaping heart.
He attaches without thinking, reverence in motion as he seeks yet another rendezvous.
Teru shivers under his wandering lips, allowing Shigeo to splinter him further.
He tries so hard not to focus on the curve of Teru’s fingers seeking purchase against the tile.
Not to lose himself in the dizzy of warmth enveloping him.
The hunger to sear this image into his brain.
If he can only love once, let him love until he has nothing left.
Shigeo paces, the drone of the television digging between his temples until he flicks it off with a snap of telekinesis. Swears to himself when it creaks under pressure and moments later, fizzles to black.
Fuck it, he’ll worry about it later.
Busying himself for several minutes, he counts second by second while picking up some clothes here, cleaning the kitchen counter, making a mental list of items he could buy for the fridge. He has some potatoes and apple, maybe a hearty curry would be nice for the cool weather, or a nice, sliced steak with some tempura lotus root and—
He shuts the fridge abruptly, pinches between his brows.
Even as time drags on, it’s hard not to get his hopes up even when the opposite result seems more likely. To not think about holding him close, buying groceries and cooking together. Holding him, finding bliss from the floor biting into his shoulder blades—
Shigeo lets out a breath, wrings his neck glumly.
He walks to the kitchen-end of his apartment, arms folding as he leans against the frame of the balcony door. Taps his head repeatedly as he stares at the far-off sunset bathing the horizon, unable to push down the knot in his gut.
“Come on, Teru.” He murmurs, temple on chilled glass. “Come on. You belong here.”
Ten minutes pass.
Fifteen.
Time seemingly endless, Shigeo closes his eyes—
A spark, bright and crackling.
—they blow open within seconds, his head turning toward the front door.
It’s unmistakable, that distinct trill—that vibrant tingling wave.
He senses it, never once has mistaken it.
The doorbell rings keenly within the walls of his small apartment, and it sends Shigeo running before the gentle two-tone chime ends. Curses when he kicks his remote across the room, nearly tripping in the process. Throws the door wide with a strength that could rip it off its hinges were he to push even an iota of his power into it.
There, standing head to toe in autumn chill and without a hint of poise, is Teru—teary and disheveled.
Teru hiccups softly, blinking away the cold that colors the corners of that rich, rich cobalt blue. There is no elegance to be found in the man doubled over before Shigeo, his mouth quivering as words comes out in a wheeze.
“I’m a huge fucking idiot, aren’t I?”
“Well, if you are,” Shigeo manages, blown away by the violent urge to grab Teru and never let go. “Then that makes two of us.”
A sputter, a wild nest of blond hiding a messy expression as Teru curls over. The final crest over the hill that leads to the slow collapse before him, gulps of air and a heart-wrenching cry and a fist that buries deep in the pink fibers of Shigeo’s sweater.
In the doorway, Teru cries. And mere inches within a singular cozy home, the sting inks into Shigeo too. Visage clenching as his composure ruptures, empathy in overdrive as the person he loves fights to right the drastic tilt of his world.
“I’m so sorry.” Teru sobs, voice barely breaching.
And Shigeo can only make a weak noise of overwhelm in return. He doesn’t want it. Doesn’t want this plague of undeserved self-ire Teru has lived with for so long to continue goring him without mercy another minute. They were both hurt, they were both scared and now standing with years and years of lost time now sitting on their doorstep.
His chest balloons with words unspoken.
“Teru—” Shigeo says lowly. Another hand finds him, clamps down hard—fabric bunching upward as Teru seems to push him away and bind him where he stands all at once. Shakes his head, shoulders wobbling. Anticipation smeared with anxiety between two white-knuckled fists.
Still, he persists. Will not let another moment pass without saying it.
“—I love you.”
He doesn’t expect just how freeing it would be, the catharsis blowing through leaving everything within in a state of zero gravity. They had festered so much, hidden beneath a bed of ice and rock waiting for it to break the atmosphere.
Saying it is liberating.
Teru half laughs, half coughs on the spot. Shigeo is quite sure his sweater is going to be ruined at this rate but can’t bring himself to care. Instead, tenderly, he reaches out and scoops a wet, trembling chin hidden by cowlick hair and lifts that stricken gaze to his.
Put bluntly, Teru looks like a disgruntled, squinting baby bird.
He adores it.
Sniffing hard, Teru blinks slowly, a whole new dredge of tears spilling . A gust of wind kicks in from the entryway, the door swinging, throwing a visible tremble down Teru’s body. He never was one for cold weather, always bundled and seeking warmth from every resource—thick jackets and blankets and hot drinks.
Shigeo can do him one better though, has enough warmth to last a lifetime and then some.
Teru can have all of it.
He pulls, shutting them in with a gleam of energy as Teru steps into his arms with fists still clenched. Wrapping him firm, dowsing him in simmering aura, Shigeo peers downward with amusement braided into his greeting.
“You’re supposed to say it too, you know.”
A small grunt, scrunched face planting—rubbing. “Gimme a second, I’m having a moment.”
“Okay,” Shigeo nods easily, snorts affectionately before squeezing Teru until he makes a noise of protest. “I’ll give you a minute even.”
“Mm."
The minute quickly becomes several, Teru leisurely clinging to Shigeo while he peels some vegetables for a mellow curry after bearing one stomach gurgle too many—his habit to nurture long established from working with young children, his unending care for friends and family alike.
And despite being glued to his side, Teru helpfully assists when asked to grab this or that, so long as he’s allowed to keep attached to Shigeo’s person. Takes inventory of the space around him, gaze moving this way and that, taking in a home wholly unfamiliar. Shigeo tries to ignore the sweet demeanor of Teru pinching at the fruit-patterned towel hanging out of his pocket—the stifled snicker and subsequent poking of a frog timer on the counter after its set for the final simmer of their dinner.
Shigeo can’t help but notice the fidgeting when they’re left in silence, adds a hum to his multi-tasking—adores the nuzzle that passes across his shoulder, the bone-deep release as weight presses to his back.
Eventually, Shigeo starts to seek out those subtle comforts too—keeping Teru tethered to him through hooked pinkies, moments of pause to press their foreheads together. Invade each other’s space and just breathe. An implicit sentiment to reacquaint, give berth for the clutter of emotions to flit harmlessly between them—a kaleidoscope of colors greeting through their fingertips.
They soon make quick work of their food, thighs pressed tight. Accidental elbow bumps turn into a juvenile competition to knock food off their utensils at the most inopportune times until they’re bent over and laughing.
Shigeo makes them a spiced tea once gifted to him, marvels at just how much sugar Teru can stand in such a small cup. Makes an indignant bark when his use of cream is given equal scrutiny and borderline steps into the ring trying to make Teru sample it—relishes in the way the smaller man startles when he takes hold of a narrow waist.
The small rise of pink in Teru’s cheeks sends his pulse running. He doesn’t resist the urge to lean over and pepper affection there. It’s a crisp, cool morning kind of refreshing seeing that familiar blustering when Shigeo gets bold. When Teru doesn’t seem to know what to do with himself, catching up with this very real place in time where the two of them flirt with the idea that they could be something more.
And then Teru spills some tea on his jeans.
A comedy ensues with the way he yelps, jumps to his feet and looks around outrageously. Almost, almost hesitates to tuck himself into the bathroom Shigeo points him to down the tiny hallway. He watches intently for a long moment while peeking around the door, only shutting himself inside when Shigeo makes a shoo-shoo gesture.
He busies himself with the cleanup while he waits, purposely causes enough disturbance while doing the dishes to send a gentle reminder that this apartment isn’t empty. Adds a hearth of psychic affect to his presence, sends out a modest but potent sonar—smiles gingerly when he receives one rich with auric sheen in return.
Teru is in there for a while; Shigeo doesn’t question it. Gives him his space, takes a moment to stabilize his own rush of nerves once everything is said and done and he’s left staring out into the night again. The discomfort of déjà vu isn’t lost on him.
Even standing here, hearing a distant rustling from across the way, a growing riptide of wandering thoughts start to invade as he’s left filling in the blanks of what his companion is up to. Wonders if it would be too much to ask Teru to stay the night tonight—with how dark it is outside now, how late, how hypersensitive they both feel
All excuses, even if they’re true.
Truth be told, he’s just as resistant to letting Teru out of his direct vicinity. Wrestles with the intrusive possibility of having to watch him leave or worse yet, snapping out of this reverie and left still waiting while Teru vanishes halfway across the country again.
It has him prickling, resisting the impulse to drag them together again. Tangle himself in sunshine, stare into lucid waters. Swept away, his seams undone. Drifting off with that lithe but firm masculinity huddling in close is more than appealing—so long as they can fall asleep face to face.
Cutting through the haze, a pair of arms wrap around his midsection from behind. Shigeo jumps, didn’t hear Teru return in the middle of a daze growing much too unruly.
“Hey there~”
“. . .’lo.”
“Having fun back there?”
He hears a huff, the pressure of Teru shoving firmly against his back sending a small burst of affection through him. He remains like that, doesn’t come up for air for several seconds. Then, Teru turns, only just enough to admit quietly.
“I love you.”
“I know,” Shigeo replies, looking over his shoulder, throat tight.
Popping on his toes, Teru leans up to press a kiss to the corner of his lips. Drops down with a grunt and doesn’t resist when Shigeo turns around within his embrace.
He immediately notices the stretch of Teru’s naked thighs peeking under his lengthy cardigan—stained jeans nowhere to be found.
“I borrowed your dryer,” Teru supplies, feet overlapping as he wriggles in place.
“That’s fine, I know you invest good money in your clothing; I can’t imagine how much they cost.”
“You probably don’t want to know.”
Shigeo laughs, “A mystery it is.”
A beat, then—
“What do we do now?”
The answer seems obvious. It should be obvious, but Shigeo knows they need to hash this out sooner rather than later. Immediately, constantly, as many comforts as needed.
“Whatever we want,” he answers. “What do you want, Teru?”
“I want to not hurt you.”
“And I want you to not hurt yourself.”
Shigeo resists the urge to smile at the pout that spreads across Teru’s features.
“You’re being difficult on purpose—”
“Maybe.”
“—and you like seeing me squirm.”
“Again, maybe, and I’m sorry,” Shigeo says, palm soothing. “This isn’t the time, but I am serious. No more worrying about burdening me. Tell me what you want our relationship to be, since you now know what I want. Us, together, if you need a recap.”
Teru chews on that, turning this way and that. His shoulder pops briefly, as if trying to be flippant—thinks better of it and instead steps forward. Hesitates—swaying slightly—before leaning on Shigeo’s sternum, ear right above his heartbeat.
“You want to know what I want?”
“More than anything, yes."
As many times as he needs.
“. . . what I want is a lot. Like a lot, a lot, so much that it doesn’t feel possible. It’s not just you being my boyfriend or me being yours, it’s—I. . . I’m a lot.”
Just the word ‘boyfriend’ alone gets Shigeo running aflutter, but the implication of self-loathing in those final words has him smarting at the same time. Never once has he equated Teru with ‘a lot’. It’s always been ‘hurting’ and ‘lonely’ and ‘resilient’ and a whole myriad of scorn cast at the perpetrators who put him in that position in the first place. There are many unknown years between then and now, many months of not knowing what Teru was doing—how he was doing outside of borderline impersonal texts and phone calls.
Clearly, he’s gotten to this point technically in one piece, that is undeniable. But, excruciatingly, he arrived with a trail of his own blood and viscera trampled on the floor and only hanging on by a thread. By others, by himself, Shigeo by proxy.
Shigeo won’t be able to help with his healing—his very personal journey of catharsis should this moment be the catalyst to start him down that path—by himself, but he’ll be damned if he allows Teru to go through it alone again. He’ll fight tooth and nail for it now, instead of just letting him walk away when he clearly needed someone—anyone—to say they wanted him to stay.
He had wanted him to stay, and yet once again, he had said nothing.
No more.
Arms coming around Teru, Shigeo nests his chin on a wheat crown. “Try me.”
He waits, casually fussing with silky tresses and a pierced ear and titters when his migrant hand is greeted to a gust of air when wandering too close to Teru’s crinkled brow.
Eventually—after a silly bout of Shigeo trying repeatedly to pinch his blush and pout and the underbelly of Teru’s chin; receiving more than a few ill-mannered slaps to his sides and even on his butt once; overturned with laughter while hearing a chortle that is definitely not being muffled successfully—Teru settles fully in his grasp. Settles and sighs contentedly, hooks onto Shigeo’s sweater.
“I would think about it all the time. Mostly at night, staring out my bedroom window. The stars, cheesy shit like that. I’ve even had dreams—sometimes daydreams, but usually it was lucid dreams I would have after days where I couldn’t sleep. Insomnia ‘n all that.”
“What did you dream about?”
“. . . what it would be like with you. . . you being my boyfriend.”
Swallowing, Shigeo nuzzles him, asks softly. “And what was it like, me being your boyfriend?”
A huff. “It was more than I could ever imagine.”
“Tell me about it, this dream-me.”
It takes a while, but eventually he indulges.
". . . dates.”
“Hm?”
“We'd go on dates. All the time." Teru starts after a few moments of working up to it. It comes out in a hush at first, a vocal testing of the waters, somewhat inaudible when he's still halfway smudged into Shigeo's collar.
"I like dates," he supplies helpfully, chin brushing back and forth on its perch. "What kind? There is that place a few minutes away that does steak. We went there with friends once for your birthday. Something fancy like that?"
"And I got sick from eating too fast; I remember." Teru snorts. "But no. Well, yes, but I don't really care about expensive stuff all that much. I like the food stalls and small restaurants here in Seasoning. The ice cream place we liked changed but. . ."
"Pork buns?"
"Pork buns~"
Shigeo nods sagely, makes a noise of agreement. "There's a lot of new places too, especially in the shopping district. There's a ramen stall down the road, and at least five more coffee shops. God, there's Mobbucks everywhere now."
"Mm, I would never turn down a mean caramel macchiato, but I like the place that smells like a lumberjack's house near your parents the most."
"Agreed. . . what else?"
Teru talks about cooking, about how he's never quite picked up on it aside from a few basics here or there when he was a kid. His voice picks up gusto, little by little. It turns out their foray earlier with Shigeo making curry with a human-shaped koala whipping supplies and ingredients all over the place struck deeper than he was expecting.
As Teru speaks—grows increasingly comfortable with nails tracing over cable-knit, face cozying into the crook of Shigeo's neck and taking a lungful before continuing—Shigeo gradually starts to move as well.
Begins to sway them side to side, chuckling softly when anecdotes randomly pepper a particular train of thought of them doing menial tasks together. Going grocery shopping and getting into silly little arguments because Teru doesn't like many vegetables, making a noise akin to a disgusted goblin when Shigeo insists it's all about preparation.
What Teru doesn't know, is that Shigeo has insane negotiation skills these days and he's pretty sure he'll get very proficient at getting on Teru's good side and coaxing him to try healthier foods some of the time.
And when Teru mentions how he would dream about evenings spent lying on a firm lap, dozing off to the sensation of long fingers combing through his hair, Shigeo immediately strokes along his back. Scruffs his neck gently, pinching a lock of blond between index and thumb before carding along Teru's scalp. He bends down to catch cedar and a faint clean scent of styling product mildly reminiscent of tart berries. Aims to salve the shiver from a frame that seeks to melt into him.
"Keep talking," Shigeo reminds after a long period of silence only broken by an occasional pleased hum.
"Mm~ We’d hold hands. All the time—when we walked around town. Holed up at home watching movies. I'm clingy and you didn't care; sometimes I'd want to fall asleep against you, tucked into your side because you've always been a furnace. I don't sleep very well but you were patient, even when I'm a little grumpy, but also would scold me if I moped too much."
Taking baths together, going on trips, making his boyfriend cute, cozy clothing but also some perfectly tailored pieces. He’s good at laundry but swears up and down that his habit of stealing clothes isn’t entirely pesky, that sometimes it’s a comfort when he’s alone to have a reminder.
Working from home and blending as much goodbye and welcome home affection into their life as possible. Learning routines, coloring early mornings and late evenings, breakfasts and tea and sweets.
"Sometimes I'd want to corner you against the door and kiss you stupid. I like to think I could knock you off your feet but honestly I'm clumsy too but we’d laugh and laugh through bumping our teeth one too many times until our lungs hurt. And then we’d do it all over again, until our faces burned and we'd—you'd. . ."
Teru looks up at him then, eyes glassy, only briefly darting down to catch Shigeo's small—"Hm?".
Popping onto his toes, Teru kisses him then. It’s chapped; Shigeo couldn't care less. A pink tongue fixes the issue immediately before they meet again. Slow, a simmering pace that quietly picks up as mildly chilled fingers slip under the hem of a lopsided sweater—seeking the warmth underneath.
"What would ‘I’ do?" Shigeo asks, voice guttural as he casually drifts his attention down an offered throat. Grazes his canines into tender flesh, reaches up to pull Teru's cardigan further down. He doesn't get a response for a while. There's only the mild buzzing of auric energy fizzing to the surface, watery noises that accompany nails grazing in a bid for purchase.
His attention coasts down, down—
". . . we'd have a lot of sex."
—curls around the small of Teru's back and yanks him close.
"Yeah?"
"Yeah."
He receives an emphatic tug in return, groans lightly before closing in on a jumping tendon, a deep red ear. Whispers. "Do you dream about it often?"
Shigeo certainly does, has, even when it wasn't appropriate to. Can't control his dreams but never denied what they were telling him. What he ultimately had the most passion for—who he had the most for.
It's why he's been single for months now. It was Teru or nothing.
He was simply waiting.
Teru rolls against him, a sharp noise of stimulation cutting through before he warbles with a voice rolling in gravel.
"All the time. I—" He stops, sucks in a shaky breath. "It's not like I have an insane libido. At least not for only good reasons, I don't think."
"Only good reasons?"
A nod.
"Someone touching me, needing me. . . it fills a hole right here. My wires have probably been crossed; I think you know why. And when it comes to you, thinking about you wanting me—it’s heaven, because to me you’ve been everything I could ever hope to want. And sometimes I feel it so strong that I think something’s wrong with me—"
That's something Shigeo relates to very well, so much it hurts.
"—fuck, I don't know. When it's you—the idea of being with you. . . pleasing you; of you all over me; taking me; you lying beneath me I just. . . it makes my heart ache so bad, even the mere thought of it. . . I’ve felt alone for so much of my life that I. . . I want to love myself, I do, but I also just want someone else to love me more even when I’m not my best. And it always comes back to you. So much so that I dream of you even when I'm in bed with someone I don't know. It's so fucked, I’m so fucked—."
"No." Shigeo murmurs, comforts with a kiss to the crook of his jaw. "It’s not, you’re not. We can’t help what pain does to us sometimes. It gets messy, and it’s okay that you feel like that."
"Sleeping with strangers because you're pining so hard for your best friend that you can’t stand it is catastrophic levels of messy."
"About as much as my wishing it were me."
Teru pops up at that, then immediately retreats to his burrow against Shigeo's chest. "I'm such an idiot."
"Only if you don't finish telling me about this Dream-Shigeo and his apparently extensive prowess. The competition might have me worried over here."
He hears an indignant grunt, bares his teeth happily when the bundle of moods in his embrace swings his arms around Shigeo's neck, tugs him down to his stature.
"It's not prowess, though. . . I mean I've never had a dream where you didn't fuck me really good. But it’s not that—it's the love that comes with it. We have sex, so many times because once is almost never enough, and you touch me like I'm something precious but never like I’m weak. I think I like that most of all. You treat me like a nightlong storm to bask in, never afraid to take what you want because you’re one too."
Trailing off, Teru glides a hand down Shigeo’s cheek, claims him again. Smiles when Shigeo seamlessly steps in line, appraises him thoroughly until their separation leaves a soft, wet pop behind.
"I'd bask in your heat; you're always so warm. . . and then I'd wake up. Lie in bed and wonder if what I want is only fit for dreams."
And that's just the most upsetting part of it all. Hearing Teru pour himself out completely, it only solidifies the inkling Shigeo had all along—that it wasn't a matter of him being 'a lot'.
It isn't too much to want to be loved, and yet here he is, nervously leaning from one foot too the other as if he's just admitted to committing a crime.
God, he hates it. Hates that Teru thinks he seeks overabundance when he's simply asking for the bare minimum found in a perfectly healthy relationship. That it’s deemed unreasonable because of a mix of trauma and pain and having never experienced someone caring for him unconditionally through trial and tribulation. Will to fight with him through it, confront him when he needs to face it.
Shigeo wants it to be him, so bad that it's damn near eating him alive.
If he has his way, not only will he never let Teru go, but it'll be his life's mission to drown this person in so much love he won't even know what to do with it. Will pour it over him like honey, it'll stick to him and be sweeter than anything he's ever experienced—imagined.
When Shigeo pulls away, takes in the view of hesitance, he tightens his hold. “Sounds like your Dream-Shigeo is a full package.”
“Can you blame me? Have you looked in a mirror? You’re so handsome it kinda pisses me off sometimes.”
“Literally no one has ever said that to me, but I’ll take that as a compliment.”
“I’d climb you like a tree in one way or another, so yes, it’s definitely a compliment.”
Shigeo smiles, laughs. “Your honesty is refreshing.”
“Compared to what, my sardonic brooding?” Teru juts his head back, face flushed as he offers a flat gaze.”
“Well,” Shigeo says, exhaling keenly through his nose. “I like that part of you too, but even more, I like it when I get to be here to see it. I love seeing you, all of you.”
At that, Teru squirms. Hides his expression from view as he mutters. “Dream-Shigeo never said that.”
“Oh? Maybe you might want to look into an upgrade then.” Comes the easy reply, Shigeo’s lids dropping low as he nuzzles the forehead before him, prompting it to lift and reveal inward-pinched lips and an imperceptible look—the two of them reacting like chemicals as they digest the atmosphere, vectors of energy dancing.
“Dream even bigger, you mean.”
“No, it’s not that,” he murmurs, offers affection to the crease at the bridge of Teru’s brows. Pours down like a waterfall cascading upon a body of water left in stasis much too long, wholly seeking to revitalize—
“I just think I can love you better than he can.”
The whimper he hears, the traipsing of fingertips over his chin—a quiet reverence, surreal and powerful before Shigeo’s hammering pulse—provokes a visceral urge in him. One that burrows into the very marrow of his bones. Of him, loving Teru. Loving him until there is no room for doubt, this low frequency beat a prologue of a place where the man in his arms never loses faith in Shigeo’s capacity to adore him completely.
“Yeah,” Teru whispers, an easy acceptance. “I think you can too.”
Shigeo admires the soft, thick rows of lashes before him as Teru takes him in, plaintively looks up.
Only then—only when their sole barrier stopping them from colliding is the words hanging on the edge of Shigeo’s tongue—does he speak.
“Can I make you mine, and I be yours?”
His answers comes with a quiver—
“Yes.”
They kiss, the stretch of waiting—of an ambience building tension to the ceiling—fills Shigeo with a wealth of ardor vast enough to figuratively knock him off his feet. He surges forward, kisses Teru again, again. Each one thaws their near decade-long ache, a hushed hymn of passion that slowly pulls down walls and in its wake of ash and rubble is a sizzling that crawls up their intertwining bodies.
He tastes with abandon, simpers when Teru exerts just as much enthusiasm. Loves the gradual bleed of his new boyfriend’s mannerisms, the assertion that starts to saturate along with that sensual glow of yellow communicating his want. It breezes across Shigeo’s skin, static-like as it raises the hairs on his arms, the back of his neck.
“Hey,” Teru drones sensually, gropes with intent. “Let me take care of you?”
Rousing, Shigeo raises a provocative brow. “Yeah?”
“Yeah.” Comes the heated response, accompanied by a vagrant tap at the band of his pants. “I have this boyfriend now, you see, and he’s lookin’ at me like he’s pretty hot and bothered. . . makes me wanna make it up to him for the trouble I’ve been. You understand, right?”
“Trouble?”
He sure peers up at him like he’s about to be. “Mhm~”
Mouth pursing and welcoming a lingering peck, he plays along. “Sure, I understand. Though from what I’ve heard, he likes a little trouble so I’m sure he’ll be easy to please.”
Another kiss. Long digits trail south over the seam of Shigeo’s jeans. Then, with pointed strength, knuckles drag over the clear swell of his erection. Grasps him fully, eliciting a full-bodied tremor.
“That’s perfect, then, because I’m very eager to.”
Shigeo’s groin tightens as if Teru had reached right in and squeezed.
They get the futon fanned out at breakneck speed, one quickly crowding the other—Shigeo falling flat with Teru slowly mounting him as if a predator laying claim. Running his tongue through a plush seam, chuckle wholly seductive as he pulls with teeth upon retreat.
And Teru takes his time, undresses him slow, a dousing of sensuality that starts at Shigeo’s collar and works its way down—shirt gone in a matter of moments.
He digs into flesh, evokes a striking erotism when he pinches stiffened nipples—patiently teases him, flicks and bites until the coil in Shigeo’s gut throbs. He can’t help but think about last night, Teru taking him so methodically. A gaping acceptance, throat constricting as he swallowed. A solid, raucous heat stealing his breath away, dragging his rationale under the dirt over and over and—
And when his boyfriend slowly slinks his pants down, peeks up with a look of hunger—Shigeo falls back and croons. Pinches his eyes shut momentarily, allows the brief adjustment of his senses. He hears Teru explicitly express his approval, twitches when a nose presses right at the epicenter of his arousal. Inhales, imbibes.
“Shit—” Shigeo curses, spine arching, quickly finds a weight settling on his thighs to keep him pinned. “Teru, please.”
His bastion all too willing to comply, Shigeo bends at the first touch under the band of his underwear. Rasps as digits sneak under, Teru slinking casually along the length of him, bumping with a heady palm as he takes hold. Shigeo tries to buck into it, grunts in pent up frustration as he realizes the purpose of Teru sitting on him.
Vision darting downward, he catches that troublesome gleam that pierces before the pointed wave of ache overtakes him. Teru strokes with emphasis—yanks the very strength from limb and muscle alike, coaxing an unrestrained whine into the air. The movement sends a current bursting through Shigeo’s racing veins. Through it all, his boyfriend thoroughly works him without reprieve. Uses his free limb to further restrain, hand bearing down on the hill of his pelvic bone.
“You like that?”
A demure, taunting question.
There isn’t an ounce of shame to be found in Shigeo’s reply.
“Yes,” he utters, fixates as if enchanted. Loves watching Teru focus, weathering his lips as he tightens his grip—hand candied with his slick as it fluctuates. “I like it when you—ahh.”
“Show me.”
Mindlessly, Shigeo reaches down, air shallow as he guides that sleek repetition. Seethes with pleasure as he instructs Teru, grinds right where the seams of nimble fingers trip over a potently sensitive spot in quick succession.
He’s no stranger to masturbation, nor to imagining this very person—ruddy thighs, a tight, weeping heat—wrapped around him. Has had that song and dance play on repeat many, many times.
It doesn’t compare, not even close.
And after that, every further command Shigeo beckons for, Teru gifts with studious vigor.
Harder.
Faster.
Oh, right there.
A violent flare of throbbing takes over, nearly uncomfortable. His stomach rebels, pooling with exhilaration that rages a war to possess him. Even with his wordless mantra of increasingly embarrassing noises, Shigeo can only rock restrictively—articulating senselessly when Teru fists him in all the right ways.
Practiced, devoted to satisfying him just how Shigeo likes as he lies twisting yet held down—mentally in the clouds as the enjoyable streak of willing incapacity seizes him.
“Coming, Teru—”
Teru doesn’t move, a roused growl coloring his voice as he curls over. Hovers right where the core of pleasure throbs and aches under his diligence, thighs beneath him quaking until Shigeo arches off the bedspread.
And oh, there is an obscene adrenaline that courses through him as his body convulses. Sees his boyfriend staring up at him, navy blue bright with provocation as slick mars his face. Doesn’t cease until Shigeo is uncontrollable writhing.
Limbs flagging, Shigeo gapes in awe, in disbelief at how stimulating it is seeing Teru bear evidence of his release with a look that screams—this is mine—while swiping it off a stained cheek. Tongue plump, he laps it up with an exaggerated performance. Proud, vulgar.
“Shit,” Shigeo curses, voice tacky with desire. “Shit.”
“You love that, Shigeo?”
Shigeo isn’t quite sure how to describe the fact that the entirety of his being is resonating so acutely it’s almost painful. As if all fragments of consciousness zero in, leaving his extremities borderline numb—and right at the center of it all, a pooling, densifying heat colored in cool hues.
From below, Teru shifts to the side, stare prismatic as he closes in. Nuzzles Shigeo right at the source of his glow as it quietly fades while gradually slipping his underwear down. Article fully decarded, he leans upward. Hovers, curtain of blond stark as he peers down.
“You were glowing a bit there~”
Parched, wholly uncoupled from his faculties, Shigeo lifts up to capture him. It doesn’t serve any good in dislodging the pressure billowing throughout. If anything, it plummets Shigeo further, has him speaking blindly in the dark.
“You don’t understand. . . just how you make me feel—” He flexes an arm out, shudders as the circulation of his telekinesis surges—ultraviolet blowing out like a surging pilot light until a smooth, matte bottle lands in his possession. “I can’t control—want to.”
Teru takes it from him, purr velvet-like. “You want me like this?”
“I want everything.” Shigeo hums against his boyfriend’s chin, satisfaction plentiful when Teru leaves one last thorough pop of affection before shimmying south. The click he hears causes him to flinch, anticipation rolling down his spine. Spinning out of his mind. Searing the imprint of Teru, here, leaving a trail of liquid gold as he dips between turbulent thighs. Static dances where the light dissipates, Shigeo falls limp against a stabilizing shoulder.
“More?”
Shigeo answers with a long, lung-emptying groan. Eyes absently rolling in a daze, reaches above to cradle his boyfriend and pull him close. He’s dizzy. Dizzy with want, with his power sapping his very strength, all its energy devoted to inundating him head to toe. Teru delves, braces him tight.
Composure erratic, Shigeo parts his legs wider. Hangs on tenterhooks as the descending pressure nears the point of no return—smooth yet fleeting. He staggers, wail disconnecting them as it rips from deep in his chest. He ricochets backward as Teru kneads him languidly, teasing consistently with a venal gumption.
Spasming, his toes curl, flinches when fingertips snag with purpose. Shigeo reels through the shockwave, frantic neurons homing in as his boyfriend finally, finally, offers gratification. Spreading as they delve. Easing, rubbing insistently.
And it’s hot, doesn’t take long for Shigeo to realize why when a low-frequency vibration courses through muscle. It spiders from his inner core, punches through him—the most poignant surge bleeding right between his pelvic bones.
Feverish, he presses his stomach and finds a tide of energy, jolts when it curls in tandem with the attentive hook that outright sends him into an overwhelming tizzy. Blearily, soused, Shigeo tucks himself close, expression pinching inward as he lets out a stiff noise and casts his gaze downward.
It’s vivid, bioluminescent. Neon aura rising to the surface of Shigeo’s lower belly like the filament of a lightbulb blowing to capacity. And with it, with soft digits that relentlessly caress his depths, Teru soothes him with loving words. Words that drip with adulation, humid and seeping into his ear.
You like that, Shigeo?
You’re doing so, so good.
I love the way you look like this, letting me please you like this.
Distant, watery declarations—skirting the very edge of his peripheral.
He’s past the point of responding by now, spiraling all over again from the swarm taking over. Can only claw at the bedspread, at a jawline dewy from excursion in an effort to even remotely communicate his approval. It’s not that he’s purposely ignoring Teru, he hears him through the haze of his undoing. But he’s too far gone, swimming in the clouds and uncaring of how his corporeal form buckles under the weight of his boyfriend’s ministrations.
Simply put, Shigeo fully succumbs. Leaves himself prone and allows Teru to soften him with an effort that shares proficiency with his dazzling execution of psychic prowess. Seeking out sweet spots, tending to them repeatedly until it leaves him mindlessly seeking solid ground through desperate nails and volatile noises.
True exposure, his own energy agitated as it dances around the phosphorescence that filters through him. Gives Teru free reign to invade where normally he’d be infallible, building him up and sending him crashing like a crack of thunder. He comes again, it further lures him down into this breathtaking subspace, traversing its perimeter for a length of time that stretches into infinity.
He loses himself, dizzy and drifting as Teru plucks at his strings beyond another crescendo. It’s easy to send him careening now when every stimuli compounds, ripples out through every nerve ending—his sensitivities smeared thin like film on the water. Shigeo moans weakly through another orgasm, somehow finds the ability in his void of pleasure to call out for his center of gravity.
“Please, Teru,” he begs, pink and blue briefly eclipsing. “You—I need—”
With a soft kiss beneath a sable fringe, Teru finally begins his descent. Gifts him with attention as he traverses—tongue lathering, canines prominent on a pert nipple—before settling between quivering knees. The sight of his boyfriend pulling his dripping arousal taut, of staring down at Shigeo with obvious hunger as he preps himself. Lubricates thoroughly, behavior performative.
“Come on—” Shigeo croaks, chasing that oncoming high with a roll of his hips. Teru responds with a winded grin, bracing on Shigeo's limbs as he seats himself with a penetration wholly contradictory to prior behavior. Slow, filling and two very important clicks over the line of excruciating bliss.
The moment Teru hits the limit with a finalizing snap, Shigeo's everything riots.
Goosebumps blemish his flanks up to his reddened ears, and it takes every minuscule remnant of self-control not to shout. The hairs of his nape stand on end as his boyfriend whimpers, splays out on steamy skin, tracing ridges that faintly glow under his touch.
He looks beautiful under warm light, Shigeo notes. Notices just how worked up the person claiming him truly is underneath his veneer of assertion, his stammering litany of air casting a lantern glow to billow throughout his entire frame—his prior affects rebounding unto himself. Belying his composure. Curious, Shigeo digs his fingertips between protruding bone, sends a flourish of pink and purple and marvels as his boyfriend enflames with a rich, blazing orange as if stoked coal.
Teru straightens on the spot, head thrown with a heavy inhale before snapping forward with a force that pulls foul language from them both.
“—ahh,” Shigeo yelps, mouth wet, establishing a harsh rhythm as the color of sunset courses throughout his body. A pendulum of psychic energy and an intoxicating cadence that amalgamizes as they oscillate. An exchange that has Shigeo collapsing to the floor—pressing both hands to his groin and pushing to fuel their wanton repetition before arching abruptly off the floor.
“Teru.” He cautions, blown over by the fact that he’s already breaking again. “Gonna—fuck, harder.”
Take me apart.
From above, his boyfriend spreads him farther. “Are ya sure? Don’t you remember how rough I was with you last night?”
Sew yourself into me.
“Maybe I need a reminder.” Shigeo stares him down, sclera bright—
Until all I feel is you, until all I know is you.
—manages to return motion in a rare recollection of his own faculties—props on an arm and slants down hard, unapologetically relishes in the smear of Teru's otherwise pleasant expression, the hiss inhaling through his nose.
“Don’t make me come up there.”
Teru bends over, palms wandering up tense thighs. Shigeo loves the confidence, the threat in his nails as they dig. Even better, the desire that pours from him in unrepentant waves. No longer a playful bravado, only a blunt, searing display of attraction remains on his features.
Lip between teeth, Shigeo rests on both elbows, challenges. “I dare you.”
Thrusts exquisitely punishing, the ensuing impact rings in Shigeo's ears. He laughs drunkenly through it, voice soaked with arousal, encourages it with all he's worth—jaw dropping as his boyfriend proceeds to fold him, his knees brushing distended shoulders. Even in the faint ambience of their energy he can see the glisten of his own slick running down his side. Is sure Teru is bending under the same pressure where they meet, flexibility providing a tightness that accentuates their union.
His aura bubbles, seething for full release. Collecting unrest over time, teased with limited emission. It whispers in his pores, heightens his senses as if a mimic to his boyfriend’s tricks. Had him in a fever so immeasurable the night before that Shigeo could barely keep his hands to himself once they fully collided.
Even that fails to compare to his laid-out state, his appetite tempestuous. Carries a well inside deep enough to drown them both tenfold, has been red-taped for years—waiting on a prayer for Teru to reappear.
And now Teru is his. That deep blue fixation, a cedar scent already starting to drench Shigeo’s bed, his home. Decadent maneuvers, a relentless downpour of concentrated devotion. All of it is his, his, his.
God, he’s the stars in human form, all-pervading in his vast galaxy.
Teru easily leans into his space, elicits a flutter as they meet. His warm tongue slowly flicks Shigeo’s upper lip, a chuckle lacing the air between them. Bodies rocking with an unruly beat, their foreheads graze—the tension between them eviscerating.
“I make you feel that good?”
Clawing at the plush duvet, Shigeo leers beneath a curtain of black.
“You don’t have the faintest idea.”
Pitch shallow, Teru offers him a toothy grin. “Yeah?”
Shigeo clenches, insides festering as his thighs graze his ribcage. Pants as he instinctively matches fervor as Teru drags the lowest notes of his timbre out into an endless litany by means of a ruthless tempo. Even with the barest of adjustments, the angle throws him into complete disarray. Every muscle tenses instantly, severe position making it all the more harder to breathe—all the more easier for his voice to reach the walls.
And then, a pyre births from deep in his core, Teru thoroughly pouring over him, full arousal plunging until sharp hipbones bite into Shigeo’s flesh.
Over and over and—
He doesn’t get a chance to answer; suddenly there is a burst of new color, soft pinks and rich magenta and cool blues blowing from Shigeo as if a star whose core had collapsed with the ensuing explosion seeking to devour everything it reaches. It closes them in, washes upon the walls—energy pouring in droves like a raging ocean around them.
With autonomous agency, it blankets them, limb-like tendrils threading. Reflecting like electricity racing towards a grounding point, returning to Shigeo’s body soon after. Sweat drips from his brow, bangs damp. A fervid burn that coats him on the inside in the best way.
It has an immediate effect, the pool of heat at the epicenter of their rhythm choking the air of them both when their auras crash.
“Fuck,” Teru drones, measure stuttering. His throat, his sternum, his groin a conduit pulsing like radioactive brimstone as he pants deeply for air. “—’m gonna, ahh, Shigeo—.”
Shigeo mirrors, intensifies the effect with a pulse of energy. “Show me.”
A brutal pitch. Teru wilts on the spot, eyes glossy.
“You wanna see me come?”
His answer is a hand around his boyfriend’s nape, yanking him close. Bumps their heads together before overrunning himself with gravitational force—senses outright ripped out and laid bare.
And oh, does Teru have a penchant for obedience. Even as his face grows blotchy and the thinnest strain of raw exposure creeps through the twitch of his shoulders, he draws back until they’re nearly disconnected before plummeting with a quick thrust of his hips. The sound reverberates, only masked by the dry sob that spills from hoarse vocal chords. Shigeo nearly salivates, an encore of overstimulation revving up fast. Digs his elbow in hard on the futon, yanks Teru ever closer. Crowds until that repeated intrusion sends his composure screaming.
“Faster, Teru—”
He doesn’t think he can handle it much longer, his boyfriend molten between his thighs—hitting so, so perfectly that it throws his nervous system into an upsurge, his muscles weeping in protest. And Shigeo knows he’s about to drop, that ever creeping release leading him to a final decline so steep there’s no hope for survival.
It reminds him again, again, again of that night, the one he’s dreamt of countless times—vivid and clandestine.
Teru claims him, arousal so deep it hurts.
Shigeo loves it—loves it when the man spiriting him away clings to him.
Heat oppressive, undulating.
He wraps his arms around a balmy nape, gasps in Teru’s ear.
‘Love me.’
Holds on tight, wishes he could melt into this beautiful frame.
‘Love me.’
Convulsing, he unravels.
Crooning, Teru doesn’t stop.
“—you, Teru.”
Shigeo tries to memorize the imprint of Teru lavishing his neck, the spine beneath his nails.
His words are stuck.
He never wants this to end.
Now that night is his again, but also tomorrow and the next.
Stoked, over and over.
Ungrounding himself from the floor, Shigeo locks steely arms around Teru’s head. Tugs him close, enough to get his mouth on him—taste the oncoming tailspin that laces gushing air.
The shift in gravity pushes him down, creates an angle so steep the force of it wreaks all havoc, spasms scattering throughout his every crevice. His orgasm hits hard, it nearly takes him by surprise. Sparks a bone-deep reaction that gets his inner core rioting, technicolor aura spattering before everything simply tightens.
“Ah, coming—"
Pushed well beyond the line of control, Teru stills instantly—arches within the confines of an unrelenting embrace and blows right through his own climax with a devastating moan. He pins Shigeo, fills him to the hilt and comes as if consumed with an irrational need to overtake him entirely. Shimmering with neon gold, slick deep and abundant and blistering. Cobalt eyes that have never looked more beautiful—
Shigeo sears it all into deepest part of his mind as they slowly fall down.
They linger in that quiet euphoria for a long while, weight all too pleasant as Teru lies atop him. It takes a long time for Shigeo to settle and even then, his heart continues to roar. Unmoving, his boyfriend rubs circles along the meat of his thighs, soothing the flagging muscle beneath reddened skin.
And he loves the feeling of absolute fullness—of Teru in all his capacities surrounding him. His sweat, the scent of sex, that stubborn hint of cedar and shoreline breeze. The stirring of his hormones lingering, gradually coming to life all over again. Shigeo bathes in it, inhales deeply and releases with an audible sigh.
“Mm?” Teru perks up, body shifting. “Sorry, ‘m I too heavy?”
Shigeo makes a noise of disagreement. “Could be heavier, honestly.”
He sighs with a satisfied grin when a mellow luminous hue casts shadows on the ceiling above and the pressure laden over his creaking bones intensifies. Giddy, he wraps his arms around clammy shoulders, helpfully unsticking damp hair from his boyfriend’s neck.
“You have no idea how good I feel right now.”
Teru laughs, pressing a kiss to Shigeo’s shoulder. “Judging by those. . . shall we say, particular squeezes, I think have an idea. . . what do ya wanna do? Should we clean up?”
Sure, eventually.
Personally, Shigeo would rather stay like this for another hour, or—even better—get Teru’s hands on him one more time. Somehow being completely obliterated flipped a switch in the opposite direction, has him hungry all over again. And as Teru already pointed out, he’s already raring to go too.
Maybe he’s already getting a little greedy, but making up for lost time is making up for lost time. Color him a little impatient and a lot enamored with the man currently keeping him warm inside and out—he wouldn’t dare argue.
He makes a noise, legs tightening on either side of a firm waist. “I’d really love to have you again first. . .”
At that, Teru’s head pops up, seems to read something dangerous in Shigeo’s admission, before he replies with a purr. “Oh? Round two, hm?”
“I think it’s only fair I get one too~”
The aura around him thickens, envelops him and threads with little jolts of adrenaline before dissipating. Achingly, Teru withdraws, only to lean down, down, down to tease him right at the innermost seam of his pelvic divide—nose grazing in a way that lights Shigeo’s insides up like coal revitalized with an iron prod.
“I think that can be arranged.”
After they’re both clean—beyond well and thoroughly sated—Shigeo sets them up in his spare futon that he thankfully kept from college. Tucks the other one neatly in the corner to wash in the morning. Room is limited; he never fancied a need for a larger one and frankly, he’s thankful for his mildly frugal tendencies.
Teru lies mere inches from him, smells of Shigeo’s soap. Wearing one of his shirts—bruises peeking through the collar, born from a rowdy intervention right before Teru paid his dues by taking Shigeo apart in the bathroom—and a pair of his boxers. Every single detail embeds a fuzzy little knot right in his throat.
Teru is his; he is Teru’s.
He catches his boyfriend staring, thoroughly venerating as prominent knuckles trace his jawline. Shigeo leans into it, noses them—crosses this meager space to kiss soft lips too.
“You looked handsome, by the way.”
It breaks Shigeo out of his sleepy stupor, that low raspy murmur.
“Hm?”
“The, um, the wedding photos. It’s a well-crafted suit; whoever did the tailoring did a great job. Sometimes it’s hard to get the shoulders right on a fit frame.” Teru pauses, smiles precociously. “Pink is a good color on you.”
Shigeo snorts, raises a brow. “Good to know you at least read one of your best friends’ texts.”
He receives a flick to the chest for his troubles.
God, he wants years and years of this.
Wants to wake up tomorrow being reminded of these moments.
Shigeo fights through his oncoming slumber by pivoting to an entirely different, but very important question.
“When do I get to see my boyfriend again?”
He can’t word it any other way, despite the forlorn tone. Teru exhales gently, wriggles a little closer. Lifts to cradle Shigeo, trace the curve of his brow with his thumb.
“I’ll visit whenever you want me to. Every weekend, every other day—just give me a call. I’ll. . . I’ll answer right away.”
Compassion reading through his boyfriend’s uncertainty, Shigeo nuzzles into that gentle stroke of affection in placation. Nods, squints playfully.
“What if I want you to visit every day?”
Teru huffs, catching on easily. “Well, my work can technically go with me anywhere for the most part. If that’s what my man desires, I’ll do it. And. . . I’ll look for a new place here in town as soon as I can.”
“I like that idea. We can go on lots of dates. Cook together, at your place or mine. Wake up together. . .”
He releases a shaky breath, the reality truly, truly sinking in. It’s in his grasp, isn’t it? Teru, a life with him. That meager dream, it’s just as much his as it was Teru’s.
And Shigeo isn’t even remotely upset that Teru doesn’t bring up living together, knows that he has some well-hidden ghosts to sage—will have to get used many things as he reintroduces himself to this city that’s somewhat outgrown him. To new neighbors, to their friend group, who will be waiting in full ranks to smother him in their effort to indoctrinate him into their own long-withstanding care. Rei surely will steal a number of coffee dates from Shigeo, but he’ll share.
Teru will need to have moments to process alone too, will need to come to terms with the shadows that caused such skewed perception. Overcome them, rise from the ashes as he always inevitably does. Shigeo can’t wait to see what’s on the other side, is waiting with open arms to welcome him back for good.
And when he does come home, needs Shigeo in tough moments, he’ll come running.
He mourns the oncoming dawn, the ghost that will inevitably haunt his waking space.
Shigeo tucks into the man lying before him—this precious, precious person.
How did they get to this point, where their attraction to each other is so clear and yet—
There is no doubt in his mind that they want each other, love each other.
Has known ever since the night they slept together.
Teru’s lips at the cusp of his throat, a prayer in his voice.
So why has every moment since been a trainwreck taking them to wrong place at the wrong time?
How can he convince the person in his arms that he isn’t a poison, but a balm that eases his soul?
He has to find a way, refuses to give up on what he knows is here, waiting for resuscitation.
There isn’t much time, might not be any at all the moment he steps foot from this room.
Holding in a shiver, Shigeo tightens his hold around Teru.
Uses every ounce of his focus to memorize the heartbeat he hears through cologne-touched skin.
“Teru, how do I make you mine?”
This city—Shigeo himself—haven’t been the same since Teru left, a gaping hole left in his wake.
He belongs here—a love hidden in plain sight.
And Shigeo will find a way to bring him home to his proper place.
**