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They make love like they make competitions.
Passionate.
There’s a certain struggle to it, but its fair play. By the end of it neither of them feels cheated. Sometimes one of them comes out on top, sometimes it is the other; but its every time that they end up spent and tired, twisted in the sheets, all thoughts of “who won” or “who lost” far behind them as they move on to new activities and touches and smiles.
Ishimaru was hesitant about a physical relationship. Mostly he struggled to find physical desire beyond holding Mondo’s hand when they were alone, content just to kiss his lips softly and touch his hair gently. This was, after all, his first intimate and physical relationship with anyone. Just like Mondo had been his first friend. Just like Mondo had been his first rival. (But technically not his first kiss. As a small child he had been rudely assaulted by a little girl his own age who kissed him right on the mouth. He had wiped his mouth and yelled at her for being inappropriate.)
He needed time. Mondo was understanding. He gave him the time he needed. It wasn’t until a year after the start of their official relationship, when Ishimaru had begun to develop his truest feelings and knew that he was surely in love with Mondo, that he suggested the two of them make love. Things were rocky at first. Experimental, stop and go, clumsy and flustered. Whether it was patience or stubborn nature that kept them afloat, they eventually discovered how their bodies fit together the right way.
When Ishimaru makes love to Mondo, he’s calculated. He touches and kisses like an architect putting together an intricate house of cards. He is aware, and he is alert. He takes his joy in every single moment, and he tries to drag it out for as long as possible to make the feeling last. Sometimes he goes too slow and Mondo has to groan, begging him to speed things up. He gets off on the foreplay, on the lead up to the moment. He drags his hands down Mondo’s chest and stomach before finally cradling his aching cock in his hand and stroking it. He is attentive, his eyes watch everything.
He is talkative. As he thrusts into his lover he’ll take a moment to comment: “Mondo, I love you”. Or “Mondo, you look so cute when you make that face, please do it again”. He barely gets growls or laughs or “Fuck you”s in response. It’s enough to make him smile and blush and thrust in faster.
Mondo on the other hand, is a very physical man. Ishimaru has grown up training his body by being precise about his exercises and amounts and training, but Mondo gains his strength by unleashing all of his energy on something until he’s too tired to stand anymore and needs to recover. Ishimaru makes love with his mind, and Mondo makes love with his heart. He scoops his lover up into his arms, clings to him as if letting go for any moment will let some other force sweep him away, and kisses him roughly and deeply. His hands are hot and heavy, they grab and they claim and they conquer his lover’s wanting flesh.
Mondo bites when he makes love. He’s never been a jealous man, doesn’t feel the need to stake his claim or anything like that, and yet he finds himself biting and sucking at Ishimaru’s neck and shoulders with enough force to leave bruises that won’t fade for days. Sometimes he forgets himself, he’s taken over by the passion and pins Ishimaru down too hard or grabs his wrists too roughly and twists them up and away. It only takes a quick “Mondo, that’s too rough” from Ishimaru to bring him back to neutral. He apologizes by sweeping Ishimaru up in his arms again and kissing him on the mouth. He supports him and touches him and kisses him all over to let him know ‘You don’t need to do any work right now. You put too much damn pressure on yourself all day long, let me take care of you right now’.
When he enters Ishimaru, after the condoms and the preparation and the build-up to the moment, he sees Ishimaru’s face for only a moment before his flustered nerves get to him and he ducks his head down and closes his eyes. It isn’t fair, he thinks. It isn’t fair how he grew up his whole life thinking that the greatest sort of kiss he could ever get was one from a really cute looking girl, then this bastard comes along and makes his heart start wanting something different. It isn’t fair how good he looks with his mouth hanging open and panting and rambling on about how good this or that feels. The constant jabber pisses Mondo off, but as soon as it stops he finds himself wanting more of it and missing the sound of Ishimaru’s voice. He might be the thug here, but Ishimaru is the one who is downright criminal when they fuck. He acts so proper when they are around friends, but as soon as he’s kissing and touching his eyes go hazy and his fingers get hot in a way Mondo will never have enough of.
It used to be, when they were done, they’d both separate right away and clean up and lay down side by side just to talk about the experience or segway into another conversation about their friends or studies or other things in life. But now, now that they know how their bodies fit together and found the right physical combination, they pause before they go about their business. They lay together for a while, wrapped up in the sheets, wrapped up in each other with arms and legs hooked around.
Sometimes they can stay like they for a solid hour. Sometimes after only a minute one of them says something that ignites a heated wrestling match or some other sort of sudden competition. But no matter what, it always ends the same way.
“Thank you, Mondo. That was very good.”
“You know, you don’t have to thank me every time we screw.”
“I know. But I want to.”
“Tch. Moron.”
“I love you too”