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“I’m home,” Yu announced alongside the clatter of his keys on the foyer table. Adachi mumbled his usual greeting. The television chattered in the background, set to some gameshow Adachi was only half-watching as he lazed on the couch. His tie was draped carelessly over the back of the furniture, his shirt partially unbuttoned, but he hadn’t swapped out his contacts for glasses. Not home for more than an hour or two, then.
Yu undid his own tie as he wandered into the living room. A chastising reminder was on the tip of his tongue when he noticed something amiss.
There was a white box on the chabudai.
“What’s that?”
Adachi glanced toward the package and made a soft ‘Oh’ before grabbing and thrusting it with unusual eagerness. His mouth twitched, like he was smiling.
“Happy White Day,” he said.
Yu gingerly accepted the gift.
Every Valentine’s, or every Valentine’s that it had been feasible, Yu gave Adachi chocolate. He excused it as a habit after so many years helping Nanako make the sweets. It was a convenient pretense, right until Dojima caught them in the act and said, bemused, “I’ve never seen you give chocolates to your friends.”
Adachi had barely restrained his laugh, reducing it down to a snort, and Yu had made a hasty exit. Of all the people who would drag him in front of Adachi, he really should have expected it to be his uncle.
And once they began sleeping together, he continued the tradition of Valentine’s chocolate because, well.
He liked the look on Adachi’s face whenever he received a gift, was why. Especially gifts from Yu. The uncomfortable bracing grin Adachi wore in an attempt to hide innate displeasure, the lack of gratitude evidenced by a stiff back and stiffer shoulders, and the way he tried to bury all of that under a chuckle and a dismissive, “Wow, Yu-kun. How generous.”
Adachi would always accept gifts of food. He was more resistant to other offerings. Anything truly excessive or genuine would be met with much more hostility. Yu remembered, half-fondly, the force with which Adachi reacted to one of the gifts he gave early in their relationship. It had been a watch. A replacement after Adachi’s older worn model broke beyond repair.
Adachi had taken one look at the new timepiece nestled in the velvety box, one look at the brand, and all his shoddily obscured humiliation burst into rage.
“No,” he’d said through his teeth. “I’m not accepting this.”
Yu had smiled bashfully and pressed the gift at him. Acted as if he didn’t know why Adachi was so upset. “Please, Adachi-san, I insist —”
“Fuck you,” Adachi snarled before throwing the box at him.
He was horrendously handsome when he was angry. Yu limited himself to intentionally instigating fights only a few times. (A few times a month.)
Adachi never gave gifts. Excepting Nanako. Not omiyage after a trip, not tokens of appreciation on birthdays or holidays. The man took, and took, and Yu kept giving. He would always give what he could to Adachi.
“Go ahead,” Adachi urged. “Open it.”
The package wasn’t wrapped in any way, not with paper or ribbon or even tape. Just a simple box. Yu lifted the top off.
A mess of white lingerie, lacy and feminine, laid inside.
Ah.
Adachi laughed riotously. Yu stared down at the clothes.
“Thank you for the gift, Adachi-san,” he decided. “I’ll put it on right away.”
“Ha — wait, what?” Yu stepped past him, box in hand, and shut the bedroom door as Adachi called out, “You can’t be serious! It was a joke, Yu!”
Locking the door behind him, he dumped the clothing over the bedspread. There were a lot more clothes in the package than he expected. A silk thong was paired with milky thigh highs and a garter belt, the laciest of all the garments. The top was a harness, complete with an attached collar. There was a robe too. All of it was in white. And all of it was definitely fitting for a man’s build. A man of Yu’s build, rather than Adachi’s.
A smirk broke over Yu before he strangled it. ‘Joke’. Right.
He shucked off his work clothes with ease before confronting the task of putting on the lingerie. He didn’t have much experience with wearing lace or garters or any of it. Some of his college flings loved dressing up, some indulging in the fantasy of being degraded by the act of wearing women’s clothing, but Yu remained impartial to it. The most experience he truly had was with helping Rise zip into complicated stage clothing.
It was all cheap fabric, he realized as he handled it. Even if it wasn’t as much of a gag gift as Adachi would insist, his older lover wouldn’t want to spend much money on something frivolous. He rolled the stockings up his legs delicately, not wanting to tear runs with his fingernails, and fumbled with the garter clasps. Low-quality elastic straps, but he managed after a minute of struggle. The thigh highs felt like gauzy air around his legs.
Slipping on the thong felt decidedly weird. He arched as he tugged it into place and ignored the brief discomfort. It would be worth it, after all, to see Adachi’s face. To mess with him. To knock him off the pedestal he kept himself precariously perched upon.
The harness top was accented with delicate lacework that rubbed against his nipples and ribcage as he secured it in place. The collar snapped together tight around his throat.
He evaluated the outfit in the mirror hanging near the door. The fabric was shockingly white against his skin. The harness highlighted his pectorals, and the garter belt snugged tight to his trim waist and hips. He was fit, still, had kept up with his fitness routine partially because of how apoplectic Adachi became at the sight of ‘those stupid muscles’ and ‘those stupid abs’ and his ‘stupid thighs’, all of his anger funneling into weak protests about Yu’s ‘stupid handsome face’. Half the time Adachi would push him away as he complained about Yu’s looks, but Yu would always reel him back in.
He wasn’t the only insecure lover Yu bedded, but he was the only one Yu wanted to bed again and again.
He shrugged the robe over his shoulders not a moment too soon. A harsh knock sounded at the door.
“Oi. What are you doing in there? You can’t really be —”
Yu yanked it open and leaned against the doorframe, striking a seductive pose with his hip cocked. “Darling,” he greeted.
Adachi didn’t speak. He stared, first at Yu’s chest, gaze frozen as if his brain were rebooting, and then eyes trailing lower, lower... There wasn’t a flush nor much of an expression. But Tohru always went surprisingly stoic when he was caught off-guard.
“...I should have gotten you high heels,” he commented. He rubbed a hand over his face, obscuring it effectively if not for how often Yu saw him use the gesture. “Okay,” he said, muffled, “you can take it off.”
“Why would I take it off?”
“Because —!” Adachi threw out his hand in protest. Yu grabbed him, by the wrist, and dragged him over the threshold. He nearly tripped. Honestly, how could anyone believe Adachi’s evil mastermind act when he was so clumsy?
He used Adachi’s fumbling to shove him toward the bed. The man stumbled, again, and fell awkwardly onto the mattress, barely catching himself with his hands.
“After all,” Yu said, “I need to show my appreciation for your gift.”
Adachi chuckled, but a flaming blush stained his face. “No, that’s really okay. I —”
Yu snagged him by the collar of his shirt and yanked. Cheap fabric, Yu noted, and it was fraying at the hems and seams, a small hole worn through at the shoulder. Adachi yelped.
“How do I look, Adachi-san?” He let the robe fall from his shoulders, pooling around his elbows for a moment before dropping it to the floor.
Those petulant grey eyes darted, skidding along the exposed thighs, across his chest, away to the door before, like magnets, drawing back to Yu. Focusing, unwillingly, on Yu’s barely covered groin.
“Well?” he prompted.
Adachi shuddered. “Pretty.” But he wasn’t beaten yet; he offered up a smirk. “How's it feel, Yu-chan?”
Yu stepped closer. He tipped Adachi’s chin up.
He lifted his knee at the same time, only to press lightly on Adachi’s clothed erection. The man inhaled sharply at the pressure.
How did it feel? Yu wondered.
The answer was hazy, lost in parts of himself he didn’t want to unlock yet, so he ignored it.
He followed his robe instead and dropped to the floor between Adachi’s spread legs. There was a mocking sound from above, and something that sounded like, “That’s how it feels?”, but then Yu was unbuckling Adachi’s pants and pulling the offending garments out of the way with an easy tug that let Adachi’s erection spring free.
Yu licked a firm stripe up the heated flesh. It was distracting, for the both of them. Adachi wouldn’t notice the eager gleam in Yu’s gaze if he was too busy throwing his head back with a choked off groan. His erection was blistering. Harder than normal. Adachi had it bad.
So did Yu, he supposed. He swallowed Adachi down, down to the root, and kept his hands locked on Adachi’s hips so he couldn’t buck up and thrust like he always wanted to. His own cock filled out. The feel of Adachi’s cock against his tongue, brushing the roof of his mouth, barely grazing his molars because it was just a tad too big, the head hitting Yu’s throat: of course his body reacted. The slick fabric of the thong stretched taut over him.
How did it feel? Yu wondered again, hazier, as Adachi writhed under him.
Yu pulled away just as Adachi began signaling his orgasm with whimpers and twitching fists. Already, a light sheen of sweat gathered at Adachi’s clavicle and under his jaw. He blinked rapidly as he came down from his denied high. He was pretty, like this. He could be prettier with just a little push.
“You like seeing me like this, don’t you?” Yu asked as he stood up.
Adachi panted and then glowered. He snapped the elastic of one of the garters hard against Yu’s leg. It stung. “Seeing you degrading yourself?” He laughed. “You know I like that.”
“Is it degrading?”
He rolled his eyes. “Obviously.”
“Hm. But you’re the one —” he stroked Adachi’s cock, dragged his fingers over the head and around the slit, watched as Adachi twitched — “all hot about it. Look. You’re drooling.” And Adachi was, his cock leaking an indecent amount of precum. He always was messy.
“You’re the one in women’s clothes,” Adachi shot back.
“While you’re fully dressed,” Yu noted. Adachi smirked triumphantly. Convinced he’d won, or...
Yu gripped the open half of Adachi’s button-down shirt and ripped it open. Buttons flew, clattering on the floor and against the walls, and a familiar tearing sound filled the room. Adachi gaped.
Yu surveyed the revealed expanse of flesh — dusky nipples, the curve of his ribs visible, the dip of his belly button — all bracketed by ruined fabric.
“What the fuck —”
He shoved Adachi down flat.
“What?” he asked innocently as he straddled the man. “Isn’t this what you wanted?”
“You — hng!” He cut off as Yu palmed his erection. His cock hadn’t flagged in the least. If anything... Yu reached for the nightstand and rummaged. He snagged the lube right as Adachi was beginning to push up onto his elbows.
Starkly, Yu remembered their first time: Adachi straddling him, sweaty and flushed and bruised with love bites but somehow triumphant despite it all, Yu underneath him feeling as if he’d committed a crime. Adachi had gyrated in his lap.
“Is that all you’ve got?” he taunted. “Brat.” And Yu’s had cock perked again at those words, at the thought of taking Adachi once more, at the sight of those prideful grey eyes and that lopsided grin. “Ah, there we go,” Adachi purred.
Adachi had ridden him for a half hour, longer, until time melted into the heat of his body and Yu spilled inside him once again and Adachi laughed down at him. Had laughed until Yu flipped them over, pulling out of Adachi with a spill of semen staining the sheets, and swallowed Adachi’s leaking erection down to the hilt.
It was always a fight, wasn’t it.
“You dumbass — ah!” Adachi cried out as Yu stroked him with an unexpectedly slick hand. He collapsed back on the mattress. “You keep — ruining my — ah!”
Yu tugged the man’s pants, already tangled with his underwear, farther down, stroking the entire time. “You needed to get rid of that one anyway,” he said. Adachi’s lip curled, and his expression soured, and before he could whine about Yu being ‘wasteful’, Yu reached down and speared him open with two fingers.
A shrill stifled sound forced out of Adachi.
He was dripping more precum now. They both were; Yu could feel the wet drag of his cock against the panties. Yu stripped Adachi properly, ignoring the remnants of the ruined shirt, and hitched one of Adachi’s thighs over his shoulder. The man was exposed and twitching far too much to do anything about it. Something heavy fell over Yu’s face. He knew what he looked like. They’d recorded themselves doing this enough he was familiar with the shades of his own expressions even if he tended to concentrate on the minute fluctuations Adachi tried to control. It was a wasted effort, of course, when he was underneath Yu. But Yu appreciated it anyway.
It was cute.
Could be cuter.
Adachi twisted as Yu rubbed his prostate. He whined. Yu rewarded him by wrapping his other slick hand around that glorious cock, rubbing right under the head.
“Adachi-san,” he called. His lover opened bleary eyes and groaned. Yu curled his fingers inside and massaged. Adachi yelped but didn’t break eye contact. “Did you have fun, picking these out for me?” Yu said, pitching his voice low. Adachi shook as if electrocuted. He lifted his hands, feebly, to try to cover Yu’s mouth. “How long did it take you to decide? Did you imagine what I would look like?” He reared back a bit before Adachi could get a good hold of his face. The man was flushed almost bloody down to his navel. “Did you get hard, right in the store, where anyone could see?”
He focused on spreading Adachi apart, fitting in a third finger, as he removed his hand from Adachi’s cock. He lifted him up by the hips and forced his back to arch up. Forced him to grasp hopelessly as the bedsheets for some kind of leverage.
He lowered his mouth so his breath hit, hot and heavy, across Adachi’s erection.
“...pathetic,” Yu murmured. His chest tightened. “You’re pathetic.”
And then he swallowed Adachi down again, but he let Adachi buck and writhe and cry out as much as he wanted. He clenched down tight on Yu’s fingers as he came. Semen coated every inch of Yu’s mouth. He swallowed, and swallowed, and kept swallowing until Adachi slumped, boneless.
Adachi was wrecked enough Yu took time to clean up before stripping out of the thong. The rest of the clothes would stay, too much of a pain to get out of when his mind was buzzing with one single objective. Adachi was splayed over the bed in a beautiful sprawl of limbs. His chest heaved. His hair was slicked back with sweat. His face was red and splotchy across the cheeks, and wetness clung to his closed eyes.
Yu drizzled lubricant over his own aching, twitching cock before leaning over and cupping Adachi’s face. The man flicked his eyes open. His pupils were blown, his focus flitting like a hummingbird.
“You wanted me to dress in these clothes,” Yu murmured. He nudged his cock against Adachi’s entrance and felt the rim give under the pressure. Both felt and heard Adachi’s inhale of realization. “Did you really think I’d be ashamed? That you’d ‘put me in my place’?”
“Nng, no, I —”
“You need to learn your place, Tohru.”
And Yu slid home, and it was perfect. Adachi jerked and jolted and cried out like he'd been shot, and it was perfect. Adachi was clinging to his arms and crying out his name. He sobbed as Yu folded him in half and thrust in. Tears broke, catching on Adachi’s eyelashes like glitter.
“Too — big,” he cried. His hands shifted and gripped at the harness. He held on so hard Yu wondered if the straps would break. “You and your — your stupid cock —”
Yu adjusted his grip to better spread him open. Adachi rocked into the next thrust. His tear-stained face and desperate gyrating forced a laugh out of Yu.
“You can make me dress up however you like,” Yu said, trying not to snarl, failing to keep that mean awful thing in his chest from breaking out, “you can try whatever you want, but you know where you’ll end up. Under me. Taking it. Letting me fuck you — however I want.” Sweat poured off of him and splattered across Adachi. Dripped dark droplets onto the sheets. His breathing was labored. He was — so fucking close. “That’s what you want, isn’t it?”
Adachi locked his legs around Yu’s waist. “Yes, yes, fuck!”
And he came with the next thrust, buried as deeply as he could get, came to the sight of Adachi weeping and clinging to him and wrapped around so close Yu could imagine they’d never untangle.
He narrowly managed to catch himself on his elbows instead of sagging onto Adachi’s trembling body. He took a moment, just one, to catch his breath and rearrange his mind. Adachi was shaking hard underneath him. The tears were shut off, for now, and he didn’t even make a sound as Yu pulled out. A torrent of semen flooded out with him.
He rustled in the nightstand for a towel, the soft ones he kept specifically for times like this, and gently rubbed it against Adachi’s abused hole. The other man was still shaking, an uncontrollable movement he was fruitlessly trying to control — Yu could tell by his pinched eyebrows and the vein popping in his jaw and neck. It would be pointless to ask how Adachi was feeling. If he’d enjoyed it. At best, Adachi would scoff.
At worst, Adachi would stare off into the distance and say, tone stripped of absolutely any emotion, “I came, didn’t I?”
(Yu really couldn’t handle that right now.)
He helped Adachi shift up to the pillows instead, propping him up so he wasn’t completely under Yu, and when he was reasonably sure Adachi was comfortable, he snuggled against him. His chest pressed flushed with Adachi’s limp but trembling arm. He wrapped his own arm loose around Adachi’s waist.
“What is wrong with me,” Adachi slurred.
Ah, this Yu could deal with. He soothed Adachi with soft nonsense words interspersed with praise for how much Yu enjoyed it, enjoyed him, how this was exactly what Yu wanted, how happy he was Adachi gave him this.
The trembling faded away.
Adachi scoffed and pulled away at the next morsel of praise Yu offered, though.
“Something’s wrong with me,” he grumbled. It was a familiar refrain.
Yu rolled over him. “Okay,” he agreed. That caught Adachi off-guard. He trailed his fingers down Adachi’s ribs. Still skinny, no matter what Yu fed him. No matter what Yu did. “Okay. Something’s wrong with you. So what? I still want you. I’ll always want you. I’ll always —”
Panic painted Adachi in pale colors. “Shut up.”
“I’ll love you,” Yu finished, because Adachi hadn’t tapped out. Yet.
“You’re a dumbass,” Adachi spat. He actually spit, a second later, a glob of saliva landing on Yu’s chin. It was a familiar sensation, though one they usually started their evenings with. Adachi was wild and animalistic at the start of things and tended toward maudlin (or, during intense sessions, catatonic) afterward. “You fucking idiot."
“Tohru.”
Adachi smacked him away. His voice cracked. “Don’t fucking — don’t act like you know me. You little shit, you — you don’t know anything I’ve —”
He pinned one of Adachi’s wrists to the pillows and gripped his face like a vice. “No matter what you do,” and Yu wasn’t sure if he could stop even if the man said his safe word, even if he begged honestly, “no matter what you’ve done. I love you.”
Adachi wrenched to the side. Closed his eyes. Tears, only a few, trickled out. Yu’s cock gave an admirable twitch.
There was almost nothing better than having Adachi sobbing under him.
“I hate you,” Adachi said in a stutter. Pathetic, Yu thought as he brushed away a fresh tear tracked down his cheek. He was the most pathetic person Yu knew. Absolutely wrecked by his complexes, absolutely unable to escape from his own mind, and absolutely unwilling to accept help.
Yosuke told Yu, once, “You are always trying to fix people.” It wasn’t judgmental; it was a statement of fact. Yosuke didn’t even sound disappointed when he said it. He’d just looked at Adachi, where he was conversing quietly with Dojima down the hall, and nodded. “You need someone to fix. And him? Nobody can fix him.” He’d laughed. “He’s perfect for you.”
Yu gathered Adachi in his arms, settled him over his lap, and held. Adachi wrapped himself like an octopus, his scrawny limbs fumbling around Yu’s shoulders, and held back just as tight.
“I hate you,” he said, and he kept saying it, a mantra of endless, ‘I hate you, I hate you, I hate you’s.
Yu brushed his fingers through Adachi’s hair. “I know,” he said every few minutes. Until, eventually, Adachi was out of tears and back in his own mind. Back under control.
His face was ruined.
It was beautiful.
“...you’re hard again,” Adachi croaked.
Yu grinned. “You were crying all over me. Of course I am.”
“Something is wrong with you.”
Yu agreed with a soft sound and rubbed his nose against Adachi’s neck and jaw and under his ear. He breathed in the salty scent of tears and semen.
Adachi smacked him lightly on the back. “Alright. Enough. I need to take out my contacts. It’s a miracle they didn’t fall out.”
Adachi squirmed away, wriggly as an eel, and Yu let him go. The instinct to keep him was mostly satiated. They needed water, anyway. Especially Adachi. And he wanted to peel off all the ridiculous lingerie and slip into his own much more comfortable pajamas.
He filled two cups as Adachi occupied himself in the bathroom. It was as he stuck the second glass under the faucet that his brain pinged that something was off.
There was a small wrapped package on the kitchen counter. Silvery twine was delicately tied around it. He shuffled closer. A small stamp marking the store it had been purchased from rested in red ink on the corner of the lid. The logo and name were familiar.
Oh.
The last time Rise visited, it was a rushed affair. Adachi didn’t have time to slink out before she was busting down the door laden with the latest fashion and gossip. She had spent a few hours in their apartment, chattering away happily, while Yu served tea and snacks and Adachi sat at the chabudai scrolling through his phone. Yu knew he was listening, because Adachi always obfuscated his sharp observational skills by playing distracted or dumb. But he hadn’t expected Adachi to remember Rise’s glowing recommendation of a small chocolatier tucked away in the Meguro ward.
His fingers didn’t tremble as he untied the string around the box, but it was a near-thing.
Six small chocolates sat inside, pale white fading to dark in a gradient. Three chocolate squares and three truffles.
“Pretty sure the glass is full,” Adachi said, suddenly in the kitchen and suddenly close. Yu jolted. But he couldn’t move to turn the faucet off. He remained staring at the chocolates.
“Oh,” Adachi exhaled.
Yu wanted to touch one of the sweets, but if he did, they would surely disappear. Disperse like smoke or fog. They couldn’t be real.
The faucet shut off with a loud squeak.
Adachi sidled up against him. Wasn’t that a feat, that he was willing to touch Yu? That he would touch Yu still, after everything, after all this time? Oh, Yu was crashing. He needed, he needed to —
Adachi reached out and picked up one of the truffles. The darkest. He would hate that, he only liked overly sweet things, he —
pressed the chocolate to Yu’s lips.
Yu opened obediently. He felt every ridge of Adachi’s fingertips as he deposited the chocolate. Adachi dragged his fingers out in a slow pull and nudged Yu’s mouth closed. Bitter cocoa exploded in his mouth, barely tempered with cream. He closed his eyes as he savored the taste.
Adachi dragged his thumb over the seam of Yu’s mouth. Yu reluctantly opened his eyes.
Every ounce of attention was on him. Not critical or cynical or predatory, only watchfulness. Like when he’d first befriended Adachi in Inaba: sharp eyes and intellect. But unlike then, Adachi didn’t throw up the jester’s mask.
“You know I don’t actually hate you,” Adachi said, and Yu couldn’t answer even if his mouth wasn’t full, “right?”
Yu swallowed the melted truffle. It coated his tongue and throat.
Adachi’s nose crinkled, along with his eyebrows and the skin around his cheeks.
“Yu.”
“I know,” he answered, too late and too hoarse.
Adachi was the one who held him then.
“You idiot,” he chided.