Chapter Text
Come get your funky love story
I love it when the skies can't sleep
I left a message encased in me
So bye bye (so bye bye)
— DPR Ian, So Beautiful
🍵
After their talk, Kaoru and Kojiro fall into a weird blend of their old and new dynamic.
Kaoru still invites himself over in the middle of the night for wine, and Kojiro still drives him up the wall at Crazy Rock with his taunting. Sia la Luce is still busier than ever and so Kojiro has more than a few instances of wanting to spit in the pastas of every so-called client Kaoru brings in who dares to glance at him in any way less than professional. Kaoru still glares at Kojiro any time he goes to one of his public calligraphy exhibitions under the guise of being an annoyance—and Kojiro still thinks ‘so what if he’s proud of his best friend and wants to see his work?’
He’s certainly never going to tell Kaoru, lest it get to his head.
They’re still them.
But there are the other moments too, like the night that Kaoru comes over to watch a movie and ends up in Kojiro’s lap ten minutes in.
“Don’t people usually schedule these things?” Kaoru asks as he rocks, moaning a little when Kojiro licks up his throat.
“Sometimes,” Kojiro says, rubbing his thumbs over Kaoru’s hip bones. “Not all the time. Why, did you want to start pencilling these into your diary?”
Kaoru hits him, and then rocks his hips again. “Oaf.” The way he sinks his teeth into his bottom lip is so distracting. “I'm just saying, I didn’t actually come here for this.”
Kojiro bites down a bit harder on Kaoru's neck, eases it with his tongue. “We can stop, if you want,” he says, even though his libido is yelling, what the fuck are you doing?
“That’s not what I’m saying.”
“Then what?” Kojiro laughs.
“I just wanted to spend time with you,” Kaoru admits, before squirming when Kojiro lets his touch turn less exploratory and more ticklish.
“Aw, sweetheart,” Kojiro says, heart pounding, which is ridiculous, “did you miss me?”
“Ugh, stop.”
“You love it,” Kojiro says, snapping his teeth shut against the original words he was going to blurt out.
Kaoru presses their foreheads together and rolls his hips instead of answering, sighing contentedly when their dicks align just right.
“Does that feel good, baby?” Kojiro asks him, nuzzling Kaoru’s nose.
“Uh huh.”
He looks incredible, splayed across Kojiro’s thighs, turning his head to nuzzle sweetly at Kojiro’s palms when Kojiro reaches to brush Kaoru’s hair from his face.
“I don’t—” Kojiro says, suddenly frustrated that they're on the couch and not his bed. "I don't have anything out here."
"No?" Kaoru laughs, brow furrowing in pleasure when Kojiro pulls him in by the waist and sends another delicious tingle up his spine. "Ungh—Kojiro…"
"God," Kojiro mumbles, too caught up in the fact that Kaoru is grinding down on his lap so perfectly, that they keep finding themselves like this. "We can move."
"Let's stay here," Kaoru whispers, fingers tight on Kojiro's shoulders. "Please?"
Kojiro is a weak man when it comes to Kaoru, and even weaker when Kaoru bats his lashes like that and asks so nicely.
So he surges up to claim Kaoru's mouth, cups his face, drinks him in. Kaoru's fingers toy with Kojiro’s waistband before he seems to find his resolve and pushes inside, and Kojiro groans a little when Kaoru's hand links carefully around his aching dick.
"This isn't gonna be long," he grits out.
"Not an endurance man?" Kaoru teases.
Not with you, Kojiro thinks. Never with you.
He pushes at Kaoru's kimono. "Shut up and let me see you."
Kaoru squirms, always self-conscious initially, but apparently his arousal wins out because he lets go of Kojiro and does as he's told, his own cock shiny and red as he closes delicate fingers around the shaft.
Kojiro watches as he gropes Kaoru’s ass in turn, trailing down to find his hole and brushing reverent fingers over it. Kaoru twitches at the touch and Kojiro is just about to suggest getting up so he can actually grab the lube, before confusion swiftly overtakes everything when Kaoru’s rim suddenly yields to him, warm and slick.
“What…?”
Kaoru's face is bright red when Kojiro pulls back to look, and he refuses to meet Kojiro's questioning gaze. It’s lube, Kojiro knows, yet he still brings his fingers up to see the way it glistens in the light.
“What is this?”
“I—”
“Did you prep yourself before you came?”
“No—”
Kojiro narrows his gaze. “Did you break our rule?”
“No,” Kaoru snaps, haughtiness returning. “They're still all yours.”
“Then do tell me what I’m looking at here, Kaoru.”
For someone who has taken Kojiro’s dick multiple times, it’s still ridiculous to Kojiro to see Kaoru clam up so quickly again. “I’m human, you know. I don’t control when I’m in the mood.”
“Oh?” Kojiro leers at him. “What were you thinking about?"
Kaoru groans. "Like I said, I seriously didn't come here for that."
"Humour me," Kojiro says anyway, stuck on the image of Kaoru knowing he wasn't allowed to come and fingering himself anyway because he was that horny. He lowers his voice. "Show me. Did you touch yourself like this?"
In spite of the scowl on his face, Kaoru's cock throbs in Kojiro’s hand when he grips it, the flush from Kaoru's neck spreading all the way down to between his legs.
Christ, he's beautiful.
Kojiro makes his voice firm. "Answer me."
There’s a beat, where Kaoru looks like he’s going to get up and stop this whole thing, before he presses his lips together.
"Yes, Kojiro."
"Mm, good." Words clogging his throat, Kojiro bends his head and kisses Kaoru's chest carefully. "What about here? Did you play with these?"
Kaoru jolts when Kojiro flicks his tongue over a nipple and god, his sensitivity is one of Kojiro's favourite things.
Kaoru nuzzles Kojiro's temple, shy as he begins to rock a little into Kojiro's fist. The back of Kojiro's neck is hot as he continues to mouth at Kaoru's tits, free hand ghosting carefully between Kaoru's ass.
"How many fingers did you use?"
The easy way Kaoru's hole accepts him is borderline obscene, Kojiro sinking down to the first knuckle immediately and groaning. Kaoru moans at that, shifting his hips like he can get Kojiro any deeper.
"Shit," Kaoru breathes. "That's—fuck—"
"Easy," Kojiro supplies, "fucking easy as all hell, Kaoru," and his finger makes the wettest noise when he twists it, withdraws only to stuff two in this time. "Is three enough for you?"
Kaoru grinds haphazardly in Kojiro's lap, palm sweat-damp against his chest. "Yes, yes, do it—"
Kojiro bites him in reprimand, knowing he should be holding more control than this but finding it so difficult to remember why it's so important in the first place.
Three fingers is snug, Kojiro grunting as he curls them, suckling kisses anywhere he can reach before Kaoru says, "can I kiss you?"
It's the tone, like Kaoru doesn't think he can ask for it, so Kojiro grasps his chin and slots their mouths together instead. It's a filthy kiss, more tongue and gasping breaths than anything else, but it’s perfect, because it’s Kaoru; Kaoru who is in Kojiro’s lap, Kaoru whose breath is hot against Kojiro’s lips, Kaoru whose stomach is flexing with each rock of his hips in an endless seesaw between Kojiro's fist around his cock and his fingers buried in Kaoru’s hole.
"Oh," Kaoru breathes, tilting his head back, "oh, that's so good—"
Kojiro wants so badly to make him come.
“Come on, baby,” he mutters, thumb sweeping over the head of Kaoru’s cock, spreading the pooling precome around.
Kaoru keeps rocking, thighs flexing against Kojiro’s, cock pulsing in Kojiro’s hand with every downstroke.
“Stroke us together,” he says, breathless when Kaoru complies, cock blood-hot and pulsing precome against his. “Yeah, baby, like that, fuck—”
It’s so good, the glide of Kaoru’s hands over their cocks made even easier when Kaoru looks down and drools over them without prompting, noises loud and filthy in the dimly lit room. Kojiro is going to lose his fucking mind.
"Good boy."
The flush on Kaoru's face is everything. He's so pretty.
On the fourth finger, Kaoru outright wails. Kojiro can barely move his hand with how tightly Kaoru's hole grips him, squelching with every roll of Kaoru’s hips. His wrist is cramping and Kaoru’s hole is so wet, greedy as it accepts Kojiro’s fingers fucking inside, and Kojiro is so hard and aching that he’s dizzy with it.
“You’re so pretty,” he voices, too honest, too raw, and Kaoru’s hands falter, hips stumbling.
“Kojiro,” he breathes, mouth open and kiss-bitten, so perfect, enough for Kojiro’s chest to hurt all over again from having all of this and still wanting so much more.
“So fucking pretty,” he says instead, hammering the nail down anyway because what the hell, why not, and then he brushes his thumb around Kaoru’s stretched rim and thinks, oh my god does he want my whole fist when Kaoru suddenly seizes up and comes all over Kojiro's stomach.
“Oh— Kojiro,” he cries out, pulsing ribbons of come onto Kojiro’s skin, the sight of him losing it making Kojiro groan into his chest.
“That's it.” Kojiro digs his fingers deeper, meaner, chasing Kaoru’s sweet spot and closing his fingers over Kaoru's to continue stroking their cocks.
There’s come sliding over his knuckles, lube on Kaoru’s thighs and Kojiro’s wrist, and all Kojiro can think of is moremoremore, more of this, of Kaoru whimpering in his ear, clinging to his shoulders, legs shaking as Kojiro drives him into oversensitive territory.
“I’ve got you,” Kojiro gasps, clean hand sweeping up and down Kaoru’s trembling back as he eases kisses onto Kaoru’s face. “I’ve got you, sweetheart.”
Kaoru laughs weakly at that, digging his face into Kojiro’s shoulder with a moan. “T-thank you, Kojiro.”
So well mannered, even now.
Kojiro kisses Kaoru’s cheek, heart still pounding. “Always got you.”
Kaoru’s arms are as tight as a noose around his neck. “Mmhmm.”
The comedown takes time, Kaoru shifting minutely in Kojiro’s lap like he’s restless, like he could go again if Kojiro asked.
Kojiro definitely wants to ask.
He’s still hard, and it’s the easiest thing to lift Kaoru up by his waist, slip his cock between Kaoru’s cheeks.
Kaoru tilts his hips back obediently without prompting, groaning when Kojiro eases the tip inside. “Shit.”
“Take it all,” Kojiro grunts, clenching and unclenching his fingers on Kaoru’s waist to keep from dragging him down and burying himself to the hilt.
They have time.
Kaoru twitches.
“Relax for me.” Kojiro trails kisses along Kaoru’s jaw. “You're taking me so well, sweetheart.”
The praise is always a winning formula.
Kaoru whimpers his way through taking Kojiro’s length, hips rocking minutely as he tries to help speed the process up.
“You doing okay?” Kojiro checks in.
He isn't. Not by a country mile. If Kaoru keeps squeezing as tightly around him as he is, Kojiro is going to come before he’s even fully seated.
“Uh huh,” Kaoru says, hips circling.
“Good boy,” Kojiro mutters, transfixed. “You’re so good for me.”
Kojiro can tell it’s slower than Kaoru wants, by the way he keeps trying to speed up, but Kojiro is bigger and stronger and forces him to take his time, hands gripping Kaoru’s hips possessively. Kaoru’s legs are shaking and it’s a wonder he’s managing to ride Kojiro still, stubborn streak or not, until eventually he gives in with a little moan.
“Kojiro.”
And it really is the easiest thing to move Kaoru up by his hips, to drag him all the way back down until he squeaks when they’re flush together again.
“That’s so good,” Kaoru groans, sweaty and red faced and still looking like the best thing in Kojiro’s life.
Kojiro kisses him. He doesn’t want to find out what he’ll say if he doesn’t keep his mouth occupied.
They don’t talk after that, the scene unravelling before them, if it was even one in the first place. Kaoru makes broken sounds in Kojiro’s ear and lets Kojiro move him, use him, and Kojiro takes all he can get, fucking up mindlessly into Kaoru until he comes hard and deep.
“Fuck.” Kojiro squeezes his eyes shut, suddenly wanting to cry.
Kaoru strokes Kojiro’s hair, nuzzles his temple. It’s so much. It’s too much.
Kojiro doesn’t lift his head, tries to get himself under control again. He can still feel the aftershocks of his orgasm zinging through him, and it’s doing nothing for the burning in his eyes and throat.
“You okay?” he directs at Kaoru, hoping Kaoru will let him hide behind the guise of getting his breath back.
“Mmhmm.”
“Stay over?” Kojiro continues, wanting to hold Kaoru like this for the rest of time.
“Yes please,” Kaoru mumbles, mouth pressing against Kojiro’s hair. “If that’s okay.”
“Of course it is.”
Kaoru snorts, and then he’s unfolding himself from Kojiro’s lap, too quick, too soon, already saying, “as long as you don’t hog the blankets,” before gingerly making his way to the bathroom.
Kojiro stares after him, feeling lost.
You idiot, he scolds himself. You fucking idiot.
Then he gets up and follows, because nothing good ever came from sitting on the couch with come drying on him.
🍵
He goes for drinks with Hiromi the next night. Hiromi takes one look at him and laughs. Kojiro can’t really fault him for it. He feels terrible.
“You look like shit.”
“And you’re modelling for Chanel,” Kojiro retorts anyway.
Hiromi laughs again, pulling out a cigarette. “Girlfriend troubles?”
“No.” Not even boyfriend troubles, because he and Kaoru are not together, they’re not even fuckbuddies, they’re just two best friends who have sex because one of them needs to relax.
Smoke wafts into the night sky. Kojiro watches it, then holds out his fingers for a cigarette. Hiromi raises a brow, but hands one over anyway, lighter at the ready.
“Thanks.”
“Is that why you called me then? To complain about Kaoru?”
Kojiro takes a long drag of his cigarette, lungs protesting immediately. “Am I really that fucking transparent?”
Hiromi hums. He looks good in his leather jacket and piercings. Kojiro wonders if he and Oka have sorted their shit out or if they’re in the same boat as Kaoru and him.
Hiromi taps ash from his cigarette. “Have you tried talking to him? I know it’s pretty groundbreaking, but you guys have been together for years.”
Whatever brand Hiromi smokes, it’s actually decent. Kojiro doesn’t mind the taste as much as he thought he would.
“Don’t know. You know Kaoru.”
“Yeah, but I also know how much he clings to you. If he didn’t like you, he’d tell you.”
Kojiro’s cigarette is nearly out. He shouldn't ask for another one, even though he wants it. He wants a lot of things, lately. "I don't want to ruin our friendship."
They've been together for years. Kojiro wonders if it would have been easier to confess before he went to Italy, rip the band-aid off and then hide overseas until the storm blew over. He told himself the same thing back then, too. Don't ruin your friendship.
But is it really friendship if Kojiro wants Kaoru in every way possible? If Kaoru is so embedded in his life already that they've been mistaken for being married multiple times? If neither of them have ever had a partner to speak of, if they still book one room when they go on holiday, if they spend nearly all their free time together?
“Oh my god,” Kojiro says faintly. “I’m a fucking idiot.”
“A well known fact, yeah,” Hiromi grunts. “What’s with the newfound revelation?”
“Oh my god.” Kojiro buries his head in his hands. “We have sex!”
Hiromi blinks at him like he isn’t quite sure what to do with this information.
“He has a key to my house—” Kojiro stares at Hiromi, horrified. “Are we already dating?”
“Why don’t you ask the man himself,” Hiromi grumbles, finishing his cigarette, “instead of wasting my precious time.”
Kojiro shoves him. “Fuck you. I did actually come to have beer with you.”
“Then act like it and order us some.”
Kojiro blows smoke in his face, then does as he’s told.
🍵
It’s much, much, much later when Kojiro stumbles outside, only to blink up at the sky and catch a raindrop straight to the eyeball. Fucking Okinawa.
For all his whining about Kojiro’s love life, Hiromi had only lasted two and a half beers before going all mushy over Oka, and so Kojiro had taken on the role of matchmaker and called Oka to collect him.
“Want me to drop you home?” Oka had offered when he’d arrived, but Kojiro shook his head.
“Nah, I’ll stick around for a bit,” he’d said, like he was planning on going home with one of the pretty girls that had been sending him looks all night.
Instead he had ordered another beer and spent a decent amount of time scrolling through photos of him and Kaoru and wondering why the world was cruel enough to give him the confidence to have sex with Kaoru but nothing further.
And now he’s here, getting drizzled on.
“Fuck’s sake.”
He calls Kaoru.
“What.”
“Well hello to you too, sunshine,” he says, undeterred by Kaoru’s tone. The very fact he picked up is already a good sign.
“What do you want?”
“I’m coming over,” he says, already starting in the direction of Kaoru’s place.
“What for?”
“What do you think? For foot rubs and face masks, obviously.”
Kaoru clicks his tongue. Kojiro can just see him now, lying in bed after his skincare routine with his hair loose around him, the mental image causing something soft and vulnerable to rear up inside of Kojiro.
“How far away are you?”
“Ten minutes?” Kojiro guesses, because his maps app is still loading but he’s fairly sure of it. This isn’t the first time he’s walked from here to Kaoru’s, just never alone, and never with the intention of kissing Kaoru and hoping they can talk about them.
“Fine.”
The walk to Kaoru’s is quicker than he was anticipating, but maybe it’s the alcohol in his system. Kojiro doesn’t care. All that matters is sending off a quick, i’m here text when he arrives, and the way Kaoru opens the door wearing a robe.
“Kaoru,” Kojiro grins, and then he pushes Kaoru up against the door and kisses him.
Kaoru fights him, then melts, and it’s the nicest, most wonderful thing, Kojiro thinks, to be able to do this and kiss Kaoru in his doorway while the rain picks up outside, like it was just waiting for Kojiro to get home before kicking into full swing.
“Hi,” he says when the kiss naturally ends, giddy from the beer and the swollen plush of Kaoru’s mouth.
“You stink of alcohol,” Kaoru says, pushing at him, “and you’ve made me all wet.”
Kojiro leers. “Have I now?”
“Brush your teeth. I’ll get you pyjamas.”
"In a minute," he murmurs, snagging Kaoru by the waist again to push their mouths together.
This time it's deeper, heavier, time falling away from them until Kojiro is only aware of the slow glide of Kaoru's tongue against his, his gasping breaths, his clenching fingers. It's easy to become lost in it, in Kaoru, in the softness of his body and the cedarwood scent of his body wash and his quiet moans. He's on his tiptoes to meet Kojiro, anchored in place by Kojiro's arm around his waist, mouth hot and insistent and addictive, hips rolling against Kojiro's like he's hungry enough to fuck right here in the doorway.
“Wait, baby,” Kojiro mutters, distractedly groping Kaoru's ass before hauling him up into his arms, Kaoru's legs winding immediately around his waist. He came here to talk, not make out, but it's difficult to pull himself away from the greedy press of Kaoru's mouth and he's so close to thinking fuck it and undoing Kaoru's robe when Kaoru abruptly stops and starts laughing.
“What?” Kojiro asks, Kaoru's joy infectious.
“Nothing.” Kaoru shakes his head. “You've just… you’ve never greeted me like that.”
“Like what?” Kojiro prompts, wanting to say, like a lover, like I love you, I love you.
“Like that,” Kaoru repeats, as if it explains everything. “I already showered, anyway.”
Something slimy and insecure coils in Kojiro’s ribcage. “Do you want me to go?”
“No. You can always come over.” When Kojiro doesn't say anything, Kaoru cups his face, kisses his mouth carefully. It feels ruinous. “Come to bed.”
It's late, Kojiro should say, I can go home.
He doesn't.
“Okay.”
Kaoru finds him clothes to wear and leaves them in the bathroom, and then Kojiro gets the pleasant task of realising just how drunk he is while he showers.
He can't stop thinking about the way Kaoru looked when he opened the door, the way he laughed afterwards.
Gods, he really is in too deep.
“Thought you might have drowned in there,” Kaoru remarks when Kojiro resurfaces, pushing a glass of water into his hands.
“Nearly.”
“Idiot.”
Kojiro makes a point of gulping down the entire glass as noisily as possible, then climbs into bed next to Kaoru. He doesn't know when bed sharing became the default for them, but he can't complain, especially when Kaoru puts his phone down and curls against Kojiro’s side.
“Thanks,” Kojiro says into the quiet.
Kaoru nuzzles his shoulder, lets Kojiro pull him close and stroke his hair. Carla is playing Kaoru’s lullaby to sleep.
“Any time.”
🍵
So staying over becomes a thing.
Kojiro always had clothes at Kaoru's, and vice versa, but after the third day straight of sleeping at Kaoru's, they fall into an unspoken agreement.
We should talk, Kojiro thinks, and then, like the fucking coward he is, he doesn't talk and instead they continue to annoy each other in public and make each other come in private.
It's not always sex—sometimes Kojiro is too tired and Kaoru is too snappy, and so they'll vegetate on the couch together or Kojiro will make Kaoru dinner. One time Kaoru actually convinces Kojiro to go for a run, and Kojiro is proven exceptionally wrong when he assumes the worst part will be the cardio. Instead he suffers through staring at Kaoru's ass and the way that his hair flies behind him and the pink stain on his cheeks.
Sometimes Kaoru comes to Sia la Luce while Kojiro is packing up and falls asleep on the counter, and then Kojiro will carry him upstairs and prod him into the shower and make him do his skincare while Kaoru grumbles at him. Sometimes they just skate, and sometimes Kaoru will talk to him during the sunset about how his parents are doing, why his latest client sucks, and where does Kojiro want to go for New Year's Eve?
"Kyoto," Kojiro says, unable to keep from stepping in and kissing Kaoru against the balustrade because he looks so pretty in the orange glow. "Where do you want to go for your birthday?"
"I can't take that much time off." Kaoru looks at him like he's grown a second head for suggesting it.
"You can," Kojiro murmurs, kissing him again. "Let's go somewhere new."
Kaoru lets him for a brief moment, then pulls away. "Pushy."
"Just how you like me," Kojiro simpers, because what is he doing?
"I tolerate you," Kaoru corrects, pushing off. "Race you home?"
"You're on, Pinky."
Kaoru wins.
And sometimes it is just sex. Mindblowingly good sex, where Kojuro actually sticks to the roles he told Kaoru they would have and commands Kaoru around before tying him up and fucking him until Kaoru cries. One time, Kojiro edges Kaoru for a full hour, then sinks down onto his cock and uses him until they're both a shaking mess. The comedown takes forever after that, and Kojiro is so needy for Kaoru's company that he takes a sick day just to spend time emotionally recuperating together.
And then there's the time when—despite his stuttering embarrassment from that fateful night on the couch—Kaoru preps himself before he arrives at Kojiro's flat and barely kisses him before pulling Kojiro's cock out and sitting on it.
He's desperate for it, bouncing without abandon in Kojiro's lap, careless of anything other than his own pleasure. He didn't even ask, just came in and took what he wanted and honestly? Kojiro is completely on board with it.
“Oh, fuck,” Kaoru is saying, begging, really, “I have to come, let me come, Kojiro.”
"I love it when you ask," Kojiro groans, unable to look away from the slick glide of his cock pushing into Kaoru's puffy hole.
"You're gonna make me come," Kaoru sobs, clawing at Kojiro's chest, face a pretty shade of pink to match his hair from the grip Kojiro has on his throat.
Kojiro’s as deep as he can go and choking Kaoru within an inch of his life and yet Kaoru is still whining in his ear for more, always so greedy.
Kojiro can't believe him.
He rears back, grip unrelenting. "Say please," he spits.
"Please," Kaoru says immediately, teary-eyed and impossibly beautiful.
Kojiro slaps him across the face, and Kaoru shuts his eyes and starts to come.
Kojiro just stares, transfixed at the crease of Kaoru's brow and his slack open mouth as he shakes, as his cock jerks against his belly and come splatters across his torso.
"Koji," Kaoru sobs, wrapping fingers around the wrist choking him, thighs squeezing Kojiro's sides.
"Baby," Kojiro moans, rhythm faltering.
Kaoru is so impossibly hot and tight around Kojiro's dick and Kojiro stares at the way Kaoru holds Kojiro's hand to his throat and wonders how he got so goddamned lucky.
"Come on, Kojiro," Kaoru says, bratty and desperate.
Kojiro shuts his eyes and does as he's told.
He has a mini meltdown about it in the bathroom afterwards, because what are they doing?
This isn't just them sharing a hotel suite, this is them living in each other's space, working and eating and skating and fucking. Kojiro woke Kaoru up the other morning by kissing his way up those pale thighs of his, and then he'd sucked Kaoru as sloppily as he knew how until Kaoru was coming down his throat.
When Kojiro resurfaces, Kaoru is curled up on the couch reading. Kaoru unfolds himself when Kojiro sits next to him, doesn't react when Kojiro twines their fingers together.
“Hey,” Kojiro says, rubbing his thumb over Kaoru's, heart sticking in his windpipe. Kaoru just lets him do it, which is the craziest thing. He's just content to sit there and let Kojiro drag their hands up to kiss, blinking owlishly at Kojiro when they make eye contact. “Have a good day?”
Kaoru hums. “Long.”
Kojiro keeps rubbing.
Then, because he’s selfish, he leans down to kiss Kaoru, carefully, a test of sorts. Kaoru lets him do that, too, and then he meets Kojiro on the second kiss, initiates the third and fourth, and then pushes his tongue into Kojiro’s mouth on the fifth, at which point Kojiro kind of forgets why he started this in the first place.
Kaoru’s mouth is slick when Kojiro pulls away to breathe, lashes fluttering against his cheeks, and Kojiro’s heart lurches in his chest at the sight.
“Hungry?” Kojiro offers hoarsely, fight or flight response kicking into overdrive.
“Yes please,” Kaoru says, and then he does the worst fucking thing of the night—he leans up to kiss Kojiro again, playfully, before settling into the couch again.
Kojiro doesn’t know when they decided kissing wasn’t just a means to an end.
Kaoru is oblivious to his internal meltdown.
“Sure thing,” Kojiro just about squeaks, and then he flees.
🍵
Kaoru said it was just sex. He said he didn’t want anything to change. Hell, Kojiro said that exactly, as well.
It’s just a bit difficult to remember they’re platonic best friends when they’re playing house.
Kaoru comes home the next night (and Jesus, that should have been Kojiro’s first death flag, the fact that he waits for Kaoru to come home ) and flops onto the couch without any preamble, waving half-heartedly at Kojiro until Kojiro is close enough to be dragged down.
“Hey,” Kojiro says, surprised at but accepting of the sleepy kisses Kaoru peppers onto his face. “I can’t stay long, sorry, I’ve got dinner service to get to.”
“Fuck your customers,” Kaoru mumbles, nuzzling Kojiro’s jaw, and Kojiro swears he might cry if Kaoru keeps this up.
“I’d have to charge extra for that,” Kojiro jokes, miserable. “Besides, what are you going to do with the competition?”
It’s entirely the wrong thing to say.
Kaoru glares at him, fist loosening from Kojiro’s lapel. “Always a smooth-talker,” Kaoru sighs, letting Kojiro go.
Don’t, come back, Kojiro wants to say, but already he can feel the moment slipping from them, the walls of Kaoru that he’d nearly forgotten about because of how absent they’d been rapidly building.
“Bad joke?” Kojiro offers, even though he knows he’s lost.
“Tact was never your strongpoint,” Kaoru says, and it’s a little too icy to be completely neutral. “Off you go then.”
Kojiro hesitates. “Will you be here when I get back?”
Kaoru doesn’t answer him.
🍵
They're fighting, Kojiro thinks. Kaoru didn't hang around after eating the pasta Kojiro made for him downstairs, and he doesn't message during the day.
Kojiro shouldn't have joked about their arrangement. Shouldn't have dropped something so carelessly into conversation, especially when Kaoru had been so pliant and actively seeking out Kojiro's company. Kaoru has always been softer than he likes, always taken things personally. Kojiro is usually the one who protects him from that.
They need to talk.
They should have talked before all of this started, should have made sure they were actually on the same page, but no, Kojiro kept his mouth shut and thought with his heart instead of his head.
Except Kaoru doesn't make an appearance throughout the entire dinner service, only entering when it’s long past closing time.
“Hey,” Kojiro says carefully. “Didn’t think you were coming.”
Kojiro sniffs. “I wasn’t going to.”
“Glad you changed your mind then,” Kojiro says, and god, it’s almost like they’re back to how they used to be, back when Kojiro would pour wine for Kaoru and Kaoru would leave at the end of the night, back before Kojiro made the two of them dessert and they crawled into bed together.
Kaoru doesn’t smile, and he doesn’t make a move to sit at the bench. Carla remains tucked under his arm. He honestly looks like he’s gearing up for a fight, which sets Kojiro’s own teeth on edge because it’s been a very long day and he does not have the time or energy for this.
“Wine?”
“No.”
Kojiro’s jaw clicks. “Did you eat then?”
Kaoru doesn’t answer that. He doesn’t need to. Kojiro already knows how poor Kaoru’s eating habits are.
He sighs. Prolonging the inevitable isn’t going to get them anywhere. “What are you doing here then, Kaoru?”
Pause. And then:
“I need you to fuck me.”
It’s the way it’s said, the tone of it, like someone scraped the words from Kaoru like barnacles from a hull.
Kojiro frowns. “I don’t think so.”
Kaoru rounds on him, hair flying. “Why not?”
“Because I’m the one who makes decisions around here,” Kojiro says, jamming a thumb into his own chest. “Not you.”
Kaoru sneers. He’s still ten different types of gorgeous, but this one hurts to look at. Kojiro’s stupid heart feels as though someone is putting it through a pasta press.
“Well then, what’s stopping you?”
Kojiro wants to hold this little shit until the fight bleeds from him. Wants to kiss his face and say, it’s fine, whatever is bothering you, you can tell me, I’ve got you, I’ve always got you. But he keeps his distance. It would just be like fighting fire with fire, if he followed his instinct.
“Because that’s not how this works. I told you; if you want someone who’ll be mean to you, you’ve got the wrong guy.”
“Then what use are you?” Kaoru seethes.
“I—” Kojiro’s mouth opens, then shuts. Kaoru's words hurt. “No, you know what? We’re not having this conversation until you’ve calmed down.”
“Fuck you,” Kaoru spits.
"In your dreams," Kojiro retorts. "Go away, Kaoru."
"Go away?"
"Yes," Kojiro says, unspeakably angry all of a sudden. "Get out, I don't want to see you until you've remembered some basic human decency."
Kaoru's mouth opens, always quicker to throw barbs than Kojiro, before he seems to think the better of it and storms out.
Kojiro immediately regrets it.
He wants to chase him, wants to say, come back, I'm sorry, let's talk about this.
But there's only so much of Kaoru's acidity that Kojiro can tolerate right now. So he stays put.
🍵
As always, Kojiro is the one who caves first. He thought he'd be able to give it a week, like he has in the past when they’ve had spats like this, except he's been practically living with Kaoru for the better part of the last month. A miserable evening passes and an even sadder gym session before Kojiro decides to put his ego down and messages.
Kaoru can we talk?
As expected, Kaoru doesn’t answer until several hours later. Okay.
Kojiro doesn’t wait for further instruction, just rides over to Kaoru’s.
Kaoru answers the door with the blank face he usually reserves for irritating clients, and Kojiro is still trying to absorb the sudden hurt of it when Kaoru says, "are you coming in?"
Kojiro has enough brain cells left to know that cracking a joke right now is not the thing to do.
"Yeah."
It's weird, following Kaoru through his house like a stranger. Just last week, Kojiro had lifted Kaoru onto the kitchen island and fed him pancakes. Kaoru has already made tea, and he pushes a cup into Kojiro's hands when he sits on a barstool.
“Thanks.”
Kaoru doesn’t join, leaning back against the opposite bench and folding his arms. Steam wafts up between them. The cup is burning Kojiro’s fingers.
“Sorry for what I said the other day,” Kojiro blurts out. “I should’ve… been more tactful.”
Silence. Kojiro figures he’s going to have to carry the team on this one.
Hiromi’s advice comes to mind: have you tried talking to him?
“I wanted to talk. About us.” Kojiro digs his thumb into his palm. “I’ve been meaning to for a while, just couldn’t find the right time.”
Kaoru won’t look at him, which is fine, because Kojiro doesn’t think he’ll be able to stand it if Kaou shows any disdain.
“I think we’ve been doing this… wrong. Like maybe we should have been more thorough on rules and boundaries and shit.”
Kojiro does look at him then, brow furrowed. “I thought we did. I thought you were the expert—”
“I mean, more experienced, yeah, but not—”
“We talked about this the other day. You said we were on the same page.”
“Kaoru—”
“What more is there to talk about?”
Kojiro snaps, "Jesus, would you stop being a bitch for five seconds and listen to me?"
"We're not in your bedroom, Kojiro."
"No, we're not," Kojiro agrees.
Kaoru clenches his jaw.
Right on cue, the rain begins outside. Kojiro has always liked how you can see the mountains from Kaoru’s kitchen window, the way the rain clouds dissolve into them. Peaceful, natural. Nothing like the storm brewing above their heads right now.
"I don't think I can do this anymore," Kaoru says quietly.
Kojiro's heart stops. "What do you mean?"
Kaoru states resolutely at the bench top. "We're good friends, aren't we? You said it yourself, nothing else had to change if we stopped."
"It didn't," Kojiro says. "It doesn't."
Kaoru smiles sadly. "I can't do this. I can't just… have sex with you."
"Wh…” Kojiro trails off. “It's just sex—"
"No it's not!" Kaoru snaps. "Not for me."
Kojiro's eyes are stinging. "Kaoru…"
Kaoru holds his hand up. "Just… I know you have your— hordes of fan girls, I know you've never had problems with sleeping around but I am not like that." Kaoru blinks rapidly and Kojiro's heart breaks a little further. "I'm not good at casual sex, I never have been, and I don't want you to touch me and fuck me and then just. Pretend we're just friends outside the bedroom, I can't."
"Kaoru, just wait a minute, slow down—"
"Every time we sleep together," Kaoru says slowly, "I honestly feel like dying afterwards—"
"Have I not been giving you enough aftercare?"
"—because you treat me so nicely and then flirt with every girl that approaches you at Crazy Rock and I know we said casual but I can't stand the idea of you doing this with someone else."
"But I'm not seeing anyone else—”
“That's not the—”
“I'm not interested in anyone else,” Kojiro ploughs on because fuck it. “I never have been, I wanted to help you.”
“As if you weren't benefitting by getting your dick wet.”
Kojiro can't stand him, seriously. One second he’s telling Kojiro he doesn’t want him with anyone, the next he’s accusing him of this.
“You said it was just sex too,” he accuses, “you asked me if we were okay, you didn't want anything to change and I was happy for it to be like that—”
“Because I thought I could handle it!”
“Well clearly,” Kojiro snaps. “And how's that going for you?”
For a moment Kaoru just glares at him, face red.
Then he bursts into tears.
“Kaoru,” Kojiro stammers, feeling like he's going to throw up. “Hey, baby, c'mon.”
“Don't call me that,” Kaoru hisses, slapping him away when Kojiro tries getting closer. “Leave me alone.”
“Don't shut me out,” Kojiro says stubbornly, reaching for him again. “C'mon, let's talk about this, please?”
Kaoru keeps crying and it's just the worst feeling ever, the fact that Kaoru has had this bottled up for so long because he couldn't tell Kojiro.
"Please talk to me, Kaoru," Kojiro pleads, curling his hands into fists, trying to make himself small, nonthreatening.
“For what?” Kaoru says, eyes blazing. “I literally just said everything I didn’t want to, so what more do you want from me?”
"Because…" Kojiro starts. Because it isn't meant to be like this. Because you're my best friend. Because I love you. "We can't keep chasing each other in circles hurting each other like this, okay?"
Kaoru doesn't look at him.
Kojiro bites his lip, contemplating, before he tries catching Kaoru's gaze. "I'm sorry. I'm sorry for fighting. Please talk to me."
Kaoru sniffles. "Idiot."
"Yes, we've established that."
Kaoru's gaze swivels to meet his, watery gold, like sunshine after rain. "Sorry."
You should be, Kojiro wants to retort. "It's okay," he says instead.
Kaoru sniffs, then knocks his forehead against Kojiro's shoulder. "Sorry."
"It's fine."
"Sorry," Kaoru says anyway. "This is stupid."
Kojiro nuzzles his hair. "Can I hug you?"
Kaoru nods, already reaching out to wind his arms around Kojiro's neck. Kojiro melts into it, tucks his cheek against Kaoru’s.
“M’sorry,” Kaoru says again.
He always says he’s an ugly crier but honestly Kojiro thinks he’s a pretty crier, the way his nose goes all pink and his eyes get shiny with tears.
“Don’t.” Kojiro squeezes tighter. “It’s fine. I’m sorry too.”
Kaoru pulls away to wipe at his face, a small sad chuckle escaping from him when Kojiro fishes a tissue from the box on the counter. “Ugh, I’m a mess.”
“Same.” Kojiro gestures to himself, because his face is also wet with tears and he is not blessed with being a pretty crier like Kaoru. Instead he gets all blotchy and red.
Kaoru blows his nose. “Sorry.”
“Stop saying that.” Kojiro hesitates, then kisses Kaoru’s forehead. “I’m sorry for what I said. That was mean.” He thinks of Kaoru’s aborted confession earlier. He doesn’t know what he was so scared of, before. For some reason it’s easier to talk in the aftermath of their fight, simpler than anything to say, “I lied. When I said we were on the same page? We weren’t. We never have been.”
Kaoru blinks up at him. “What?”
Kojiro huffs. “To be honest, I didn’t think you’d ever agree to having sex with me. I’ve been in love with you for—god, so long now, I was just kind of prepared to keep it to myself, but then you said you were stressed and I just wanted to help. Didn’t matter if you wanted to stay friends because… at least…”
“At least,” Kaoru echoes, filling in the blanks. “You could have said something.”
“Yeah, so could you,” Kojiro retorts, because he can’t help himself.
Kaoru nods.
Kojiro knows what he’s thinking of; all the years spent growing up together, crashing into one another’s houses, the endless plane rides and nights walking through foreign cities together. Together.
So much time.
Kaoru sniffles, then tips up and kisses him. His lips are very soft.
"I'm sorry. I always thought you just saw me as a friend."
Kojiro makes a noise that is half-sob, half-laugh. "The amount of times I've told you I love you."
"As a friend!"
Kojiro tugs him close again. "I know. I don't mean it as a friend. I love you."
Kaoru nuzzles his cheek, and Kojiro has never been more acutely aware of their height difference until now when Kaoru has to go on his tiptoes.
“I like you too, Kojiro,” he says, even though Kojiro said he loved Kaoru. “I don’t want to be just friends.”
“Good,” Kojiro says, catching him in another kiss, lightning quick. “Neither.”
“You’re so stupid,” Kaoru laughs softly, “love you.”
And—there. That’s Kojiro’s undoing. He wraps his arms around Kaoru’s tiny waist, holds him close enough for their heartbeats to meld together.
For a long time they just stand together in Kaoru’s kitchen, Kaoru letting Kojiro cry into his shoulder while he plays with his hair.
“Do you know how well I slept last night?” Kaoru is saying when Kojiro calms down.
“Amazingly,” Kojiro guesses, “all that room to starfish with no one to steal the blankets from.”
“I don’t steal the blankets—”
“You do,” Kojiro counters. “I wake up freezing.”
Kaoru pinches his cheek. “I was trying to say I missed you.” He pauses, contemplative. “I miss you all the time.”
“Kaoru—”
Kaoru covers Kojiro’s mouth with his. “Just. Just let me finish. I don’t want to be just friends. I like skating with you and coming home to you.” He scrunches his nose. “I like having sex with you.”
“Oh good—ow!”
“Sorry,” Kaoru says, but he’s grinning, and he kisses Kojiro. "Sorry," he says, again, and Kojiro goes to scold him when Kaoru pushes his tongue into Kojiro's mouth.
It's hard to think after that.
The downpour outside has fully set in when Kojiro presses Kaoru down into his bed. Rain sluices down the windows as Kojiro peels Kaoru out of his yukata, unable to focus long enough because of Kaoru's mouth.
“Love you,” Kaoru mumbles as Kojiro fingers him gently, too much lube that it’s spilling onto the sheets.
“Love you too,” Kojiro smiles, crooking his fingers and kissing the inside of Kaoru’s knee.
It’s weird and not, at the same time, to have sex without the overarching responsibility of conducting a scene, and that just drives home how much neither of them have not been sticking to the Dom/sub agreement they created.
Kaoru is quick to loosen up under Kojiro’s touch, nails digging into Kojiro’s neck when he nudges in.
“Be mine?” Kaoru says, voice small.
“I’m already yours,” Kojiro tells him, rolling his hips carefully and delighting in the flutter of Kaoru’s lashes. “All yours.”
“Okay. Okay good. Me too.”
“Good.”
They don’t talk after that.
🍵
Kojiro is doing a final wipe down of the counter when Kaoru lets himself into the restaurant.
“Hey,” Kojiro says, confused when Kaoru rounds the counter before making a surprised noise when Kaoru kisses him.
“Hi,” Kaoru says, then breezes off to plug Carla in like nothing happened, like it’s a normal thing to kiss Kojiro hello.
It is, you idiot, it is now.
“Wine?” Kojiro croaks.
“Obviously.”
Kojiro rolls his eyes, but fetches the bottle anyway and pours Kaoru a glass. Dinner service tonight went off without a hitch, and Kaoru doesn’t have any complaints about his current client when Kojiro asks, so it looks like they’re both in a good mood.
He waits for Kaoru to drink half of his glass, then says, “Finish it all, baby.”
Kaoru’s gaze snaps to his, piercing and gold, anticipation in his body just from the simple sentence. He does as he’s told.
“Ready to come upstairs?”
Kaoru nods. “Yes, Kojiro.”
Outside, the rain pours.