In his right hand, he held an apple pie that he’d bought at a patisserie, and in his left he toted a plastic grocery bag laden with cooking ingredients.
Yokozawa’s steps were slower than usual along this path he was now well familiar with, weighted down as he was with hesitation and apprehension. He hadn’t trudged this slowly towards a destination since the morning after he’d run away from home following a fight with his parents.
“…I guess this was kind of like running away from home, too, huh…”
Yokozawa had returned that evening to his completely empty apartment. While he’d been a bit concerned about Sorata, he hardly had the nerve to just swan in like nothing had happened after blowing up at Kirishima like that. And anyways, Sorata was better off being looked after by Hiyori than by Yokozawa in his rough state. The cat was rather attuned to humans’ emotions and wouldn’t come near Yokozawa when he was in a mood. He supposed cats didn’t like a tense atmosphere any more than humans.
He’d holed himself up for a full day in his apartment without trying to make any contact—and of course no contact came from Kirishima’s end either. Yokozawa was disgusted with himself for futilely hoping in some corner of his heart that he’d get a phone call—when he’d been the one to lose his temper and go on about never wanting to see Kirishima again.
Since having Kirishima turn his back on him, Yokozawa had been plagued with feelings of regret. It had been nothing more than a simple outburst of unwarranted anger.
If he’d been in Kirishima’s place, he never would have gone out of his way to give someone that sort of advice. It was hardly his place to get involved in other people’s love lives, and at best was nothing more than a waste of time. He knew quite well, also, that Kirishima typically avoided such bothersome efforts.
But for him to chase after Yokozawa and purposefully point out everything Yokozawa had wanted to cover up…he had clearly done it all just for Yokozawa’s sake.
He still couldn’t fathom just why this guy was going to such lengths to concern himself with Yokozawa—but he did understand…that Kirishima had never put anything less than his full effort into it.
He’d been forcefully jerked into Kirishima’s territory and had his rhythm completely shattered, but in truth…he had never once disliked it. The reason Yokozawa had been able to get through these past few weeks without sinking into black despair and hiding himself away when left alone…was all thanks to Kirishima.
Standing at the front gates, he took a deep breath.
Maybe he’d run out of patience with Yokozawa now; maybe he’d never be able to earn forgiveness for how utterly ungrateful he’d been for what Kirishima had done for him. Regardless, apologizing properly was the very least he could do. More so, he could hardly leave Sorata with them forever, and he wanted to at least thank Hiyori for her part.
“…I just don’t know when to give up, do I?”
But of course, the foremost reason he’d come here…was because he wanted to see Kirishima.
The entire previous day, his head had been swimming with thoughts of Kirishima. Why did I say that to him…? Not for the first time, he found himself regretting his words and actions and hating his inability to be honest with others.
Strangely enough…he hadn’t thought of Takano once. Maybe he’d finally been able to restore his feelings to some semblance of order after talking two days before. While his feelings of loving the man had hardly disappeared, he could firmly admit that they lived on in him as a part of his past.
Just as he finally steeled himself to push the intercom button, though—the door opened from the inside, and out dashed Hiyori. “….!”
“Ah! Oniichan! Welcome home!” Her grin stretched across her whole face, and Yokozawa felt a pain in his chest. Her innocence reminded him of how very small he was. He’d been just as open and honest as she was when he was younger—when had his personality become so difficult to deal with?
“Did you not have work today?” He’d tried to think up an excuse for his recent absence, but it seemed Kirishima had passed it off as his just having work to do.
“Oh—no. Are you headed out somewhere?”
“Yup! Going off to play with Yuki-chan!” If he recalled correctly, that was a friend of hers in the same apartment complex.
“Then—here, take this with you.”
“What is it?”
“An apple pie. That’s the whole thing—so you can cut it up and share it with your friends.” He’d brought it as part of his apology. Kirishima hardly ever ate sweet things, so he figured it was better to just give it to Hiyori to eat with her friends.
“Yaaay! Thank you, Oniichan! I love apple pie!!”
“Hold off until snacktime, though, all right? Oh—what are you doing for lunch?” He’d brought enough ingredients for all three of them, but if things turned sour, he intended to just prepare something for Hiyori and head back home.
“Yuki-chan’s mama is cooking something! Is that for us…?”
“Oh—no, this is for dinner.” Hiyori was a sharp one, but he didn’t want her worrying over him, so he glossed over it easily.
At this, Hiyori’s expression brightened. “So that means we can all have dinner together tonight! I’ll hurry back soon and help you get ready!”
Unfortunately, whether or not they’d be eating together tonight weighed heavily on how his talk with Kirishima went. It was a tall order to hope for forgiveness—but there was no need to let Hiyori know that.
“Don’t worry about it—I’ll call you when it’s ready, so go have fun. You’re cooped up in here all the time watching Sorata, so go and spread your little wings for a change. Friends are important, you know!”
“Gotcha! Then I’ll wait for your call!”
Hiyori stepped past the gate and looked about to dash off—but before doing so, she stopped and let out a small ah!, turning back to Yokozawa. “That reminds me! Oniichan, I have a favor to ask…”
“What is it?”
“Papa hasn’t been feeling well since Friday night, it seems. Could you maybe try and talk to him?”
“Eh…?” His heart thudded heavy in his chest at the words Friday night—the day when Yokozawa had said all those horrible things to Kirishima.
“He won’t tell me what happened… He spills his coffee and breaks plates, but keeps telling me it’s nothing. Grandma says that maybe it’s something he can’t really talk about because I’m a girl—so I thought, maybe Papa would be able to talk to you more easily.”
“…Yeah, maybe. I dunno if I’ll be much help, but I’ll see what I can do.” With the way Hiyori was staring up at him with hope plain in her eyes, there was no way he could let her know that the reason her father was in shambles was likely all his fault.
She seemed relieved knowing that Yokozawa was on the job, though. “I know you’ll do fine! Please take care of him!”
After seeing her down the hallway, Yokozawa stepped back into the apartment. As he secured the lock on the front door, Sorata padded out to greet him. He slinked along lazily like he’d been living here for ages before jumping up onto the small sofa and curling up for a nap.
“Guess that’s your spot now, huh?” Sorata let Yokozawa’s words float by, pretending to sleep soundly—but his ears still twitched in response.
After a bit of searching, he found Kirishima out on his bedroom’s veranda, a beer in one hand despite the sun still shining high in the sky.
“…Drunk before noon? Hardly appropriate.”
Kirishima didn’t even turn around before replying. “…What the hell are you doing here? I thought you never wanted to see me again.” He’d probably sensed it was Yokozawa from the moment he entered.
It was the first time he’d been forced to stare at Kirishima’s back like this. Not being able to see someone’s face was the same as being unable to read their emotions.
Facing that stiffened back, Yokozawa drew himself up despite his hesitation and bit out his apology: “…Sorry about the other day.”
“For what—?” He felt his ire rising at the way Kirishima asked a question he very well knew the answer to already—but reminded himself he was in no position to begrudge Kirishima given that he was the one seeking forgiveness. If he truly intended to apologize, he needed to face the things he didn’t want to head on, without flinching. “…I completely blew up at you. That time…it was just like you said; I overreacted because everything you said was true.”
Yokozawa’s shoulders slumped at the brusque response. It seemed a single, simple apology wasn’t going to be enough to repair their shattered relationship. “…I guess that means you won’t forgive me, then.”
At his pouted muttering, a strange voice came back, probably sounding less upbeat than usual because he was drunk: “Forgive you? Why? It’s not like I’m mad or anything. You were the one who got angry—just like you said, I was being too nosy. I’ve always been like that, not knowing my boundaries. I’m the type who’ll water a plant til it drowns.”
His self-deprecated ramblings came off as his true feelings—and in them, Yokozawa couldn’t detect a hint of anger or irritation.
“…I’m grateful to you, you know.”
“What, for the cat?”
“For Sorata of course—but, the reason I was able to face him then without running away…was all thanks to you. Before meeting you, if I’d run into him, I would’ve avoided facing him and probably turned tail and run.” If he’d been allowed to wallow in his own despair, he would’ve fallen into a horrible state of mind. The only reason he was able to get through it as well as he had was because Kirishima had been by his side the whole time. While it had sometimes been irritating being teased as he had been, it had undoubtedly served its purpose as a distraction.
“…You would’ve been fine without me.” Kirishima turned to face him now, and he didn’t look drunk at all. Of course, given what a heavy drinker he was by nature, there was no way he would’ve gotten drunk with a single can.
“…Maybe. But—if you hadn’t been there for me, I probably would be thinking about him even now.” He would have been left living gloomy days clinging to feelings that could never go anywhere.
“…So what are you saying you’re thinking of instead right now?”
Yokozawa’s words stuck in his throat; he hadn’t expected such a response. He dropped his gaze to the floor to keep Kirishima from noticing his face burning up with shame.
“…You don’t have to say if you don’t want to.” It seemed he wasn’t teasing Yokozawa just now; he really was curious.
“I was thinking about you dammit! I’ve been doing nothing but thinking about you for the past two days! It’s annoying as hell not being able to think about anything but YOU!”
“About…me?” Kirishima’s expression was honestly shocked, and he gaped openly at Yokozawa, who in turn felt so embarrassed his face could have lit up in flames.
“I kept…thinking how you had to be so pissed at me for saying those things to you. Th-that…you hated me now…” He trailed off, knowing his face had to be red now. He’d gone all out in expressing himself just now—but Kirishima continued to stare at him, dumbfounded. Irritated at the lack of any sort of response, Yokozawa snapped peevishly, “Are you even listening to me?”
“I am, I am! Just—you surprised me, and I thought maybe it was a dream…”
“Quit messing around!”
“Yeah, I don’t think I quite caught that—could you say it once more?”
“Like hell! Geez, I’m done with this—I’m leaving.” He was well and through with such embarrassing displays. He couldn’t bring himself to spend another minute enveloped in this awkward atmosphere. He’d promised Hiyori he’d make dinner for her, so he’d have to just call her up and apologize on his way home.
But as he turned to leave, he found his wrist gripped in a strong grasp, holding him in place. “Where do you think you’re going?”
“Let me go—I said I was leaving.”
“You think I’m gonna just let you leave, after you say something cute like that?”
At Kirishima’s challenging words, Yokozawa’s brows knit together. “…You know, I’ve thought this for a long while, but—you’re probably the only person alive who’d think anything about my bear-like self was cute.”
“Maybe so,” he laughingly agreed—and that in itself was annoying. But when he opened his mouth to gripe at Kirishima, who was grating his nerves even now, the man suddenly grew serious before him. “First loves never last.”
“Do you still believe that?”
It seemed Yokozawa had gone so far as to blurt out something like that while he’d been drunk. Those were the words Yokozawa had told himself time and time again.
“You should just…try falling in love again, the right way. If you’re in love properly from the very beginning then isn’t that in a way your first true love?”
“…You know, maybe you’re more fit for working in Emerald than Japun with lines like that,” he jeered in response, trying to cover up how utterly mortifying it was to be told something as cliche as that—but Kirishima refused to budge.
“Say whatever you want—it’s not like you hate this sort of mood, after all. And you’ve been falling for me for a while now.”
“Who says that about themselves? You’re shameless.”
“So choose me. If a stubborn asshole like you is gonna be in love with someone, I’m way better suited for you than anyone else. I’ve got a kid—but I think that’s a plus, personally. And she happens to like you, so it all works out, right?”
“How the hell is that a plus?”
“And I’ll accept everything about you. You don’t have to forget how you loved him before—those are precious feelings, so hold onto them.”
“I said I’d accept you unconditionally—you don’t have to change one bit.”
Kirishima’s words soaked straight through into his chest—and at this reassurance, Yokozawa felt as if a great weight had been lifted from his shoulders.
“…Just so you know, I come with a lot of baggage.”
“I’m moody, and it aggravates people.”
“I said it’s fine! And I kinda like that about you.”
“And you’re fine with the fact that I’m petty and get jealous easily?”
Kirishima chuckled softly at the threat, reaching forward and smugly tucking a finger under Yokozawa’s chin, forcing his gaze up. The wedding ring that should have been on his left ring finger was nowhere to be seen. ”If you’re confident that you’re loved—then there’s no reason for you to feel that way. And I’m perfectly fine with you being jealous. It’s proof of how much you care.”
Kirishima was blowing away his concerns one by one, eventually leaving him with no room to object.
“…I won’t forgive you if you toss me aside, you know.”
It was the best response Yokozawa could come up with just now.
Just as he felt the wind whip up, the sun disappeared behind the clouds rolling by in the sky above, and a chill suddenly snapped through the air. At Yokozawa’s stifled sneeze, they decided to head back inside. Recalling only now that it wouldn’t have been impossible for a neighbor to have overheard their conversation, a cold sweat broke out across Yokozawa’s brow.
He couldn’t shake the feeling that he’d just said something completely unlike himself, carried along by the heat of the moment. Eager to shake off the strange mood that had draped itself over them both, he cut the tension with a purposefully normal comment: “…Well, I guess I’ll go do the prep-work for dinner. I promised Hiyo earlier that I’d cook tonight.”
The reason it now felt even more awkward than it had out on the veranda…was probably because this was Kirishima’s bedroom; it made him hyper-aware of Kirishima’s presence. He’d never been particularly good with strategizing to begin with—leaving his only options being to push or pull.
When he endeavored to quickly remove himself from the bedroom—before he could even grip the doorknob, the door was pressed shut before him.
Kirishima then locked the door soundly and wandered back to the veranda window, drawing the curtains. ”Let’s start over.”
“Start over?” As he stood there stock still in the dimly lit room, he felt something press against his body, and a moment later he found himself toppling backward as he was shoved onto his back on the bed. “What the hell are you—”
When he tried to lift back up, Kirishima mounted him like a horse, pressing down with all his body weight. As Yokozawa faltered for just how best to respond to this, blinking several times in succession, Kirishima stared down at him, confessing abruptly, “…I lied to you, before.”
“…We didn’t sleep together that night. You just misunderstood—and I decided to let it go. Though, we did technically sleep together in the same bed, at least.”
“Wasn’t that nice of me? Not laying a finger on that lovely meal conveniently spread out before me?”
“What the—fuck! Why the hell didn’t you say so in the first place?!” The truth of Kirishima’s words finally hitting Yokozawa, he felt like an utter idiot for having worried so much about what had happened in those blank parts of his memory.
“Shouldn’t you be relieved? Or—would you rather we’d actually done it?”
“I—never said that!” He hadn’t said that, no—but Kirishima had a point; most people would’ve felt relief at learning the truth…
“So—that’s why I suggested we start over. We both have feelings for each other now, after all—so there’s no need to hold back anymore.” He set to work peeling off Yokozawa’s shirt—and had managed to reveal his chest when, realizing what Kirishima was trying to do, Yokozawa jumped in.
“Wait wait wait!” he snapped frantically, but Kirishima paid him no heed. Yokozawa reached down to grab the hands that were roaming over his chest and abdomen now, but Kirishima lithely twisted out of his way.
“We’ve waited long enough, haven’t we?”
“Weren’t you depressed not five minutes ago?!” He tried to shove away Kirishima, who now had his face buried in the crook of Yokozawa’s neck, but it was no use.
“You cheered me up.”
“Then—for now, let’s just talk this out—”
“If you’re so intent on talking, let’s do it right here.”
Managing at last to loosen Kirishima’s hold over him, Yokozawa started to crawl over the bed to escape—but Kirishima quickly grabbed him by the hips from behind and effectively paralyzed him. With his free hand, he reached around to loosen Yokozawa’s belt, dragging down the zipper.
“W—we don’t have to do this right now!”
“Don’t you agree it’s important to go through the proper procedures with this, though? Besides—if I let you go now, you look like you’ll run off with your tail between your legs.”
“Like hell I would!”
He knew Kirishima was just trying to rile him up, but he couldn’t help the words that just fell off his lips. Just then, he hated the side of himself that couldn’t back down from a challenge.
“…You sure you wanna say something like that?”
“…A man never goes back on his word.” His words were nothing more than pure show—truthfully, on the inside, he was already regretting saying it. The reason Kirishima looked like he was trying not to laugh was probably because he could see right through this facade.
“You’ve got some balls on you.”
“Just—get on with it then,” he ground out, backed into a corner as he was. The more time that ticked by, the more his resolve wavered. Blessedly, as he was being held from behind, at least they didn’t have to look each other in the face. He didn’t much care for staring into a lover’s eyes while he fucked.
“…That is so not sexy at all. Pay a little more attention to the mood, would you?”
“Shut up! I’m not cut out for that kind of stuff…!” His breath stuck in his throat at the heat he could feel from Kirishima’s hands even through his clothing. He felt heat rush to his groin as Kirishima traced the outline of his cock through his underwear.
“If you’re scared, you can just close your eyes.”
“Like hell I’m scared.” He tried to keep his mood prickly and shifted his gaze off to the side, focusing on the sunlight bleeding through the curtains to keep from having to see Kirishima stroking his crotch. He was trying to best to avoid thinking about it, but his thoughts kept being dragged back to the task at hand, feeling each and every stroke of those fingers along him.
At length, he felt the fingers slip beneath the hem and move to press his underwear down further as Kirishima wrapped his fingers around Yokozawa’s cock directly.
He’d expected a dry sensation—but the fingers that held him now were slick with a liquid. In surprise, he glanced down at himself, noticing a small bottle with a pink cap tossed to the side.
“This should get the job done faster, don’t you think?”
“Where did you get…?” Kirishima’s fingers seemed to be slicked with baby oil, obviously intended to be used as a lubricant now.
“When Hiyo was little, she had really bad dry skin—so I’ve always got some on hand.”
“Don’t remind me of Hiyo at a time like this…!” Hiyori probably even slept here from time to time; it was too much to handle thinking about the dirty things they were doing in that same place.
“Oh, well I’m so very sorry about that. I’ll help you forget I even mentioned it.” With that, Kirishima tightened his grip. With only a few strokes, Yokozawa’s cock now stood taut and erect.
“Haa…ah…” Kirishima’s skillful fingers, slicked along by the oil, drove Yokozawa to new heights. “…ngh, oi. Why am…I the only one being touched…?” At this rate, he was going to climax alone—and he had no intentions of showing such a pathetic side to himself at a time like this.
“What, you want to touch me, too?”
“If I let you have your way, we’ll never get through this.” He forcibly twisted around, changing their positions so that they now faced each other. Intent on relieving himself of the frustration of being toyed with unilaterally, he loosened Kirishima’s pants and stuffed a hand down his underwear.
Kirishima gasped softly at being grasped without the slightest hesitation, and Yokozawa at last allowed a small smile to grace his features, pleased with drawing out the reaction he’d hoped for. “Well aren’t we the sensitive one?”
“Just a little taken with how bold you are.”
“If you’d rather have a blushing virgin, you’ll have to look elsewhere.”
“I doubt I could find anyone else as pure-hearted as you, though.”
“How about I make it so you can’t spout any more mushy shit like that?” Intent on accomplishing just this, he started moving his hand along Kirishima’s cock and swiped a finger over the crown, finding it already dripping.
“God you’re slow…” Kirishima pressed his hips forward and brushed their cocks together, and Yokozawa could feel their rising body heat and racing heartbeats pulsing through them both everywhere they touched.
“Oi—what the hell are you—”
Kirishima had grabbed him tightly, forcing their strokes into concert. “It’s faster this way, right?”
He could hardly shove the guy away after coming this far, so he’d have to grit his teeth and go through with it. Telling himself this, he poured his focus into bringing Kirishima off. He’d come this far already—so he fully intended to make the guy climax first. “Ha…ah…!”
“You’re hard as a rock…”
They were close enough that Yokozawa could feel his breath on his face, and he found himself unable to tear his eyes away from Kirishima’s half-parted lips. He was struck by the sudden intense urge to kiss Kirishima—and likely wouldn’t have hesitated if he were at all the type of person to give in to such urges easily.
He licked his lips to distract himself—at which point Kirishima grunted out softly, “Is that an invitation?”
“Huh? Ah—oh, I didn’t mean…” At Kirishima’s question, he realized how suggestive the action had been and flushed in shame.
“Then stop being so fucking adorable without intending to.”
“Stop calling me adora—nngh…!” His lips were quickly covered, forcing his objection back down his throat and drawing out a soft sigh at the gently forceful sensation.
A warm, wet tongue pressed into his mouth and held Yokozawa’s own, sucking hard enough to paralyze, practically ravishing Yokozawa’s mouth. It was official: Kirishima was a damn good kisser.
He could feel his very core melting just by Kirishima sucking on his tongue, and when he brushed against the inside of his mouth, his entire body felt on fire. Being toyed with relentlessly like this, he couldn’t help giving in to the sensations driving him crazy, and released a shuddering breath. “Ah…un…”
Yokozawa somehow managed to keep his swiftly dwindling sensibilities in check through sheer force of will, distantly noting that if he dropped his guard for even a second, he was going to peak.
Kirishima eventually broke the kiss, staring down at Yokozawa with a worried expression. “…Did you not like it?”
Realizing he must have been grimacing rather sourly, Yokozawa somehow managed to reply with surprising honesty: “…I hate to say it—but I didn’t dislike it.” It pissed him off not being uncomfortable with the whole situation.
“…Good, then.” Stealing his chance when Yokozawa loosened his mouth, Kirishima pressed in again for another kiss. He didn’t dislike it, just as he’d said—but it was dangerous the way Kirishima’s kisses could sap his strength like this. It wasn’t rough or forced—and yet he couldn’t resist.
“Nnn….nn?!” Distracted by the kiss, Kirishima had started to drop his hand further down between Yokozawa’s legs, brushing around beneath him to ease a finger underneath. Shaking his head to break the kiss, Yokozawa hissed angrily, “Oi—hey. Where the hell do you think you’re touching…?!”
“Don’t stop stroking.”
“Listen to me, dammit—ah…guh…!” A finger pressed inside, tight and painful despite being greased with the baby oil. He let out a soft cry at the intrusion, then immediately grit his teeth. “Quit…that…!”
“You really don’t like it?”
“I don’t…like being touched there…!” It wasn’t…as if he’d never been touched there, but he couldn’t stand the idea of being so utterly open and defenseless beneath someone else.
“…Wait, don’t tell me this is—your first time?”
“…NO COMMENT.” He didn’t want Kirishima getting any ideas in his head about Yokozawa’s past—and even less so did he intend on dredging up Kirishima’s own himself. While it would be a lie to say he wasn’t at least curious, he knew full well the powerful force his jealousy could become.
“…Well, whatever. Your first time or not, doesn’t change how it’ll go.”
“Then don’t ask!”
“What? I thought I’d go gentle with you if it was your first time.”
“Hah, like hell you would.”
“With an attitude like that—are you saying you’d rather I teased you a bit more?”
“Tease—!” Kirishima pressed his finger deeper and forcibly spread the narrow passage. His fingers, usually so clumsy, now moved with unbelievable proficiency. When Yokozawa paused to consider how those fingers which couldn’t even properly peel an apple now had him at their mercy, it was almost too humiliating to bear.
“What, done bitching already?”
“Shut…the hell up…!” His breath caught in his throat as the fingers continued working inside him, and he could feel them slipping in and out, brushing against him. Every now and then, Kirishima would pause to reapply the oil and add another finger. “Haa…!”
At each stroke, he’d let out some new, obscene cry—and even if he’d wanted to plug his ears, his hands were otherwise occupied. Yet despite his best efforts to continue pumping Kirishima’s cock, he couldn’t keep his focus.
“What’d you say?”
“Don’t tell me your hearing’s going already, old man. I said get on with it.” At this rate, he was going to wind up climaxing first, without a doubt. If they were going to do this, it may as well happen while he was still too out of it to care.
“Then—couldn’t you at least say it a bit more sexily?”
“Do you wanna do it or not? Personally, I wouldn’t mind sticking it in you, myself.”
“I certainly don’t mind if you want to try that—but for today, let me do you. I want to cum inside you.” He whispered this in a low, husky voice, and Yokozawa’s ears went numb. It was impossible to tell what kind of moves Kirishima had up his sleeve.
Taking Yokozawa’s silence as consent, he withdrew his fingers and peeled away Yokozawa’s pants and underwear entirely. Yokozawa patiently bore the humiliation and allowed his legs to be spread without protest.
“Oh by the way, I’m out of condoms right now, but—you don’t mind, right?”
“What?! Of course I mind—ngh!” Kirishima didn’t wait to hear his reply, slowly pressing in and situating himself inside Yokozawa, who grit his teeth against the pain and discomfort of having his body forcibly invaded, being opened up as he was. “Guh…ngh, ah!”
An indescribable shudder ran up his spine as Kirishima pressed in deeper, leaving behind only a cramping pain and a feeling of being filled, inside and out. He could feel Kirishima’s cock within him pulsing with a thudding badump badump.
“…Are you all right?”
He glared up at Kirishima, heedless of the concerned expression he was favoring Yokozawa with. “Of course not. And—fuck, if you cum inside me I swear I’ll kill you…!”
“You’re not convincing anyone all teary-eyed like that.” Yokozawa felt the stiffness in his body shatter as Kirishima jerked against his hip with the full weight of his body. Everywhere Kirishima was touching him throbbed with a numbing tingle, and his sensitive skin cried out to be touched.
“I realize this is a rather tactless question, but…what was it like when you were with Takano?”
“…NO COMMENT,” he responded breathlessly, flat-out refusing to answer. That was one thing he definitely didn’t want Kirishima imagining.
“Not that it really matters to me. You both look like bottoms to me.”
“I’ll bet everyone looks like that to you.” If someone with as harsh a mien as Yokozawa could look cute to this guy, then surely anyone could.
“I’m talking about on the inside. Or, what—are you saying I’m such a sex magnet you don’t mind my fucking you even though I’m a guy?”
“That wasn’t a compliment!” he barked back at Kirishima’s banter. If he had enough left in him to be talking stupid shit like that, Yokozawa really wished he’d just get this over with.
“Seeing as it seems you’ve still got plenty of fight left in you, I won’t hold back then.”
“You haven’t been holding back since this start—ngh, ah!” Yokozawa’s body jerked, flinching as Kirishima pressed in deep and continued to thrust with teeth-shattering intensity, forcing a strangled cry from Yokozawa’s mouth. The cock roughly thrusting in and out rubbed and chafed his insides, and despite his best efforts to bite back his cries, groans seeped out from deep with his throat, perfectly timed with Kirishima’s rhythm.
“Come on, louder.”
“Though the sight of you holding back turns me on just as much…” Kirishima chuckled gruffly and bent forward to lick the long strip of skin bared before him when Yokozawa threw his head back. A shiver traveled down his spine at the sensation of Kirishima’s tongue against his skin, and he felt himself clench tighter around Kirishima in response.
He convulsed around Kirishima with shivering jolts following each punishing thrust, and he worried his lip each time he felt himself being washed away by the pleasure being forcibly impressed upon him.
“Haa…ah…!” At the very least, he wanted to keep his pride intact—and so he kept a firm grip on his senses to keep himself from drowning in pleasure, but…he was nearly at his limit. The searing cock swollen with desire continued to bore into him, and his mind grew hazy through it all.
“Shit I think I’m gonna…” The rhythm of the thrusts grew even more violent, and his senses couldn’t keep up. The point where they were joined was slick and tight, but he could hardly even feel it anymore. “Ah…ah—ah…!!”
Kirishima thrust in deep, and Yokozawa felt his vision flicker and flash before him. In those few seconds, Yokozawa’s senses returned—and his body shook with a jerking tremble as he climaxed, clenching tightly around Kirishima still buried within him.
“…hngh…!” Kirishima gasped sharply and then shuddered violently. Yokozawa immediately knew from his expression and the feeling within him that he’d climaxed—after he’d outright warned him not to cum inside of him!
“Ah—sorry, sorry. I was a little late there…” The apology was nonchalant, his words lightly delivered—he didn’t look like he was ~sorry~ one bit.
Yokozawa glared up at him harshly. “You’d better be prepared to fucking take responsibility for that.”
“I will, I will! But—now that it’s a done deed, how about I take care of it after one more round?”
“What the…just fuck off and die!” He tried to paste on his angriest glare, but it didn’t seem to translate to Kirishima.
“I will, I will—but after one more round?”
“You—!” But his words were cut off as a pair of lips descended on his own, and he couldn’t bite out his complaints any further. No matter how he struggled, he was without a doubt at a disadvantage right now. Vowing in his heart that he’d get back at this guy later, he relaxed himself and just gave in.
When he stepped out of the shower, Yokozawa found Kirishima sipping a beer at the dining table.
“There’s one for you chilling in the fridge if you want it.”
“Didn’t I buy that?” It may have seemed like a benign comment to most onlookers, but given that it had come from someone Yokozawa knew full well didn’t even know the contents of his own fridge most of the time, it grated a bit.
“Well, guess I’ll hop in the shower too, then.”
Yokozawa felt a sense of gloom sink over him when he recalled that they needed to think up an excuse for Hiyori to explain why they’d both showered in the middle of the day when it wasn’t even hot outside. He even felt judged by Sorata right now, and the cat couldn’t say anything. Kirishima finished off the last of his beer and stood—at which point Yokozawa asked, “That reminds me—what the hell were those ‘embarrassing pictures’ you were always going on about? Did you seriously even have anything?”
Yokozawa had half-forgotten, himself, but he now recalled that this had all started because he’d been practically blackmailed into hanging out with Kirishima to begin with. Now, he supposed it had just been another ruse to keep Yokozawa from getting suspicious over what Kirishima had been trying to do. Still, he did want to find out if such pictures actually existed or not.
“Oh, that. You wanna see?”
“You actually have some?!”
“I made sure to save them so I wouldn’t accidentally delete them or anything…ah, here we are! There.” After pressing a few buttons on his cell phone, Kirishima seemed to have found what he was looking for and turned the screen so Yokozawa could see as well.
There Yokozawa found several images of himself sleeping peacefully, with eyes red-rimmed either from drinking too much or perhaps from sobbing himself to sleep. It was a bit anti-climactic for Yokozawa, who’d been thoroughly convinced they’d been decidedly racier images, but after the sense of relief washed over him, it was quickly replaced with seething anger. “You—asshole! I can’t believe you threatened me with these kinds of pictures!”
“Hey, these are plenty embarrassing, don’t you think? Not even Hiyori would cry herself to sleep anymore!”
“You—!” But well, he had a point. He wouldn’t have hesitated one bit if he’d been asked which was more embarrassing—the apron shot or these ones.
“If you think it’s not embarrassing, then do you mind if I make it my wallpaper?”
“Of course I mind! Gimme that! I’m deleting these immediately!”
“Mmm, don’t wanna.”
“I’ll sue you for defamation!”
“Go ahead then; I’ll just get up on the stand and testify that I couldn’t help myself wanting to take pictures of my cute lover.”
“…You’re adorable, blushing over something like this.”
“I’m—not—!” He flushed even further, still not completely used to being told things like that. He had no hope of ever winning against Kirishima’s utter lack of social mores. His only choice was to just avoid engaging him at all, it seemed.
“I’ll just have to keep saying things like that until you get used to it, I suppose.”
“Please don’t.” He shuddered at the mere thought—and yet, deep down, so long as it was Kirishima paying these compliments that didn’t seem to fit him at all…it wasn’t so terrible.
“Now don’t say that—my love is deep, you know. I’ll definitely make you happy.”
“Seriously?” He couldn’t help snorting at Kirishima’s bold display of confidence.
“Have I ever not been able to accomplish something once I’ve said I would?”
“…I don’t suppose so.”
This was Marukawa’s leading hit-maker, who brought to fruition everything he said he would despite being derided as being nothing more than a big-talker—if he said he’d do it, then there was no mistaking that he would.
While Yokozawa could hardly say he wasn’t worried in the least, this wasn’t going to be a relationship that made him want to cut himself down as before; there was no need to swagger and stiffen—they could let their feelings grow little by little.
“…Still, how are we supposed to face Hiyori now?” Once the sun started to set, she’d be on her way back from her friend’s place. While Yokozawa had no intention of telling her what had happened between them, he also didn’t trust himself to be able to meet her with a straight face either.
“Just the same as you always have.”
“Maybe you don’t mind it—but I’m not as ballsy as you are, you know!” For Yokozawa, it was less of an issue that he’d slept with a guy, and more of one that he’d slept with Kirishima. While she was close with Yokozawa, if she found out that he was in a romantic relationship with her father now, there was no way she wouldn’t be confused and concerned as his daughter.
“It’s fine—she’s my daughter after all! She doesn’t have a bigoted bone in her body!”
He colored at the unconcerned reply and snapped a hand out to grab Kirishima’s collar, jerking him forward. “Oi—you’d better not let her know about this, all right?” This wasn’t a matter of bigotry; while he understood that someday they’d need to discuss it with her, it didn’t have to be now.
Kirishima smiled as if scheming something. “Well I suppose that all depends on your attitude, then.”
“What the hell—are you trying to threaten me again?!”
“Nah—just playing with you a bit~” Despite the fact that he kept a straight face through the correction, this was hardly much better.
“I changed my mind—you can fuck off and die a hundred times over.” He shoved away the collar he’d grabbed, through with taking the guy seriously. Kirishima’s shoulders shook as he watched Yokozawa get riled up.
He really hoped he hadn’t made the wrong choice… Feeling a tinge of worry as he cast a sidelong glance at Kirishima, who seemed unable to stop himself from laughing, he released a long sigh.