binomial | i've been told that you're hard to love but i still want to try

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i've been told that you're hard to love but i still want to try

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[ Living with Koujaku was weird at first, in the way that is wasn't weird at all. Maybe it's just because they've already spent their entire lives together, that they're already so used to being with each other day in and day out, knowing each other's quirks and likes and dislikes -- moving in with him was just. Natural, maybe. The next step in things, for two guys who are undoubtedly in love with each other.

Not much has changed in that everything has changed -- things have slowly progressed, but looking back to when they first met, everything is different now, isn't it? Where Aoba used to sit in the playground and cry because he was lonely, he's now positive that Koujaku would follow him to any playground, to make sure he was happy, surrounded by affection. It's a good feeling, being loved and protected, and even if Aoba feels a little embarrassed in saying it -- yeah, he loves him. He really, really does.

He's got his legs draped over Koujaku's lap while he smokes -- Aoba finds that he likes the smell of it, after all this time, that it reminds him of Koujaku and he loves anything that does that -- leaning his head on Koujaku's shoulder. It's a slow night. Quiet and peaceful, something Aoba isn't especially used to, but it's nice. It's good, because it's Koujaku, and man, Aoba sure does get sappy sometimes.

Idly, he pushes his fingers along Koujaku's, feeling the fingers on his free hand, and enjoying the contrast between their two skin colors. Quiet is nice, sure, but it's a little bit boring too. Huffing a little, Aoba leans forward, ducking his nose underneath Koujaku's jaw. ]

Ah, Koujaku?

[ getting aoba to move in with him wasn't as difficult as koujaku had originally thought it would be. but then again, the longer they're together the more koujaku notices that with just about anything. all the things he thought would be difficult, would take time, were actually quite natural. maybe it was the fact they'd grown up together, learning how to feel comfortable in their own skins right along side each other, or maybe it was just aoba. either way, moving in together? simple. easy. better than koujaku could have ever imagined.

but at the same time, he never imagined he'd have aoba in his arms like this. never thought in a million years that they would be anything more than childhood friends, the kind of people who had dinner together once a month, said hi on the streets. but that all had changed, so quickly and naturally that it's hard for koujaku to remember what life was even like before this. before he woke up every morning, and went to bed every night, with aoba in his arms.

just like right now, with the two of them out on the small veranda connected to koujaku's - no, their - living room. he's sitting with his legs crossed, pipe between his fingers, aoba draped across his lap. things are quiet, the two of them content to just listen to the sounds of the night, and koujaku is pretty sure this is what paradise is. one hand settles easily on aoba's knee, the other bringing the pip to his lips for a slow inhale, settled on koujaku's knee when he exhales the smoke back out again. the press of aoba's nose into koujaku's jaw has a warm shiver running down his back. ]

Mmm? [ he smiles, rubbing a slow circle with his thumb against aoba's knee, warm. comfortable. his eyes shift down to aoba's instead of up at the sky where they were before.

god, he loves him. ]

[ He hums, kissing Koujaku's neck chastely once, before settling back against him, hand curling around Koujaku's own. Not really a handhold, more like Aoba is committing it to memory, brushing his thumb against Koujaku's life line, squeezing thoughtfully at the cushy bits of his hand. He's done it plenty of times in the past, but every inch of Koujaku is as interesting as it's always been -- from the first time they met to now, sharing a home and a life together.

Free hand trailing up Koujaku's chest, Aoba locks his fingers around the long end of his ponytail, tugging on it playfully. His eyes flicker up to Koujaku for all of a second before he realizes he was looking back at him -- which makes Aoba flush brightly, looking back down at their handhold. ]

What are you thinking about?

[ He mumbles, fluster obvious in his voice but he's not looking at Koujaku, so maybe he won't get teased..! ]

[ the light kisses bring a soft red tint to koujaku's ears, his hand settling on aoba's knee and squeezing gently. he briefly considers telling aoba to stop, that the teasing brush of his lips over koujaku's skin is only sending him further and further down a route that there's no coming back from, but thn aoba pulls away. koujaku doesn't mean to let the sigh escape, hadn't even known he was holding his breath, and yet aoba settles against his chest and curls his fingers around koujaku's scarred, calloused, larger ones, and koujaku lets the breath go.

he closes his eyes for a moment, there. enjoying the comfortable weight that is aoba in his laps. enjoying the way he can fel him breathing, the warmth of his hand. aoba's hand trails across koujaku's chest and it gets him to open his eyes, only to huff a bit when he tugs at the ponytail. the huff turns into an easy smile, one that grows when aoba blushes and looks away, and koujaku just leans forward the slightest bit. noses his way through aoba's hair gently. ]

Mmm. You. [ was that cheesy? that was probably cheesy. but maybe koujaku is just doing it to see if aoba will react even more to it. he does love teasing him. ] About how well you fit in my lap. How comfortable you are in my arms.

[ said totally casual. ]

Edited 2014-08-25 04:32 (UTC)

[ Aoba shudders with the touches to his hair -- still long and sensitive enough to make him shiver on contact. That's a very low blow, Koujaku, and it just makes Aoba blush more, not to mention what his words to do him. Aoba winds up turning to duck his head into Koujaku's neck, effectively hiding his flushed face away.

He drops his hold on Koujaku's hand and instead moves to wrap his arms around his neck, pushing his nose into the bend of his jaw and scoffing a little bit. Desperate to make Koujaku just as blushy as he is, Aoba kisses his neck again, bites teasingly at the spot thereafter. It's only good that Koujaku can't see the look on his face, which is a bumbly mess of sort of nervous, and completely embarrassed. All stupid Koujaku's fault. He can be so irritating... ]

Th-that's embarrassing... [ He says, not as confidently as he's like, but it's not his fault. He didn't choose to be stupidly in love with Koujaku ( though he doesn't regret a single thing ). ] No you weren't.

[ koujaku is gentle when it concerns aoba's hair. always gentle, always careful, aware of just how sensitive he is about it, with it. he has memorized the way it feels between his fingers, the way it feels against his lips. he knows what he can do to aoba if he caresses just the right amount of it, pulls on just the right strands, but that's not his plan for now. not yet.

especially not when he feels aoba shiver in his arms, feels how hot his face is hen he tucks it into his neck, and koujaku just lets out a low chuckle, something deep down in his chest. the moment that aoba's hand leaves his, koujaku's reaching his hand back to wrap his arm around aoba's back, holding him there just in case, nevermind the way koujaku starts to shudder in response to aoba's lips, the light nip of his teeth. ]

Oi- [ he scratches lightly at aoba's lower back, trying to get his attention, get him to stop. they're almost ready for bed and koujaku has already taken off his accessories, his neck bare for once that day. and it's not even that koujaku doesn't want to be marked (if anything, it turns him on a little too quickly, a little too much. knowing there are bruises there under the leather, the ties...). it's just that he knows what game aoba is trying to play, here, and he's not going to win. ]

Is it? [ he grins again, setting his cigarette down in an ashtray off to his side so he can free up his other hand, letting it back around to more comfortably hold aoba against him. ] But I was. Just like how I was thinking about your neck, and how red it gets when you blush. How it comes all the way up... [ he leans over the top of aoba's head, now close enough to his ear to whisper against it and ignoring just how quickly those goosebumps from aoba's lips are spreading off down his back. ] To your ear. [ he punctuates that by taking the top of aoba's ear between his teeth, tugging gently. ]

[ It's safe to say the Koujaku knows Aoba's body well enough after all the time they're spent together. Sometimes it annoys Aoba, how Koujaku can just stroke his side, pull his hair, bite his ear, and Aoba will be all but putty melted in his hands. Usually, though, Aoba is thankful for it -- that there was no awkward "get to know each other" stage between them, that there was no trial and error for the other's likes and dislikes. They'd always just known, like some second nature built into them -- at least, that's how Aoba feels. Handling Koujaku is the easiest thing in the world.

Of course, that's when Aoba isn't flustered to death and back, trying to hide away from Koujaku and arch into his touch at the same time. This is definitely a game Aoba is losing, but really, losing isn't all that bad, if he still gets Koujaku as a participation prize. That's considered a win in his books, to be honest. ]

H-hey, Koujaku...

[ Turning his head as best he can, he lays a tiny kiss on Koujaku's cheek, hands moving to cradling either side of his neck, thumb roaming across his pulse point. Aoba shifts his hips barely, jeans now too tight to be useful, and he sighs when the hard friction of it rubs against his steadily growing cock. Yeah, definitely not winning. ]

You got me hard. [ He's pouting. ]

[ they fell into this as easily as two people can - without realizing how far they'd already been, without knowing how little more they had to go. it was a step that koujaku never imagined himself taking - he'd been content to spend the rest of his life with women chasing after him. nights in their bed, in his bed, shared between more of them than he could count. he'd find one to stick to for a few months, and then to pass by the moment she got too series, because settling down had never been a goal of his.

but then there was aoba - one of the few constants, the only constant, that koujaku chased after. he avoided families beyond his gang, avoided connections beyond these few, and avoided any sort of commitment because what was the point when he'd only let them down?

when aoba saw him lose control, when he came into his mind and watched as his tattoos slowly started to engulf him, he did so much more than save him. did more than koujaku can even understand. now koujaku can laugh without the weight, can love without the doubt, can wrap himself around the one person he's content to stay loyal to for the rest of his life, and he's okay with that.

( as stupidly cheesy as that might be )

but all it takes is to hear aoba's voice. just a whisper, through his flush on his cheeks, and koujaku feels lighter than air. the feeling of aoba's hands on his neck, on him anywhere, is better than any drug. any anything. the kiss has koujaku smiling, the fingers on the hand on aoba's back sliding under the hem of aoba's shirt, lightly rubbing against the skin he can reach. that's how he feels aoba shift, that's how he knows, even if it's not until aoba tells him he's hard that koujaku's eyes shift down to aoba's crotch, the red of his ears spreading across his cheeks in excitement. ]

You say that like it's a bad thing... [ is koujaku's hand starting to slide up aoba's thigh? why yes, yes it is. is he going to stop nosing at aoba's hair where it moves around his ears? nope, not at all. ]

[ Almost purring, Aoba arches into the touch to his back, letting his head roll back to touch the headboard of their bed. Possibly trying to shy away from the sweet nuzzles against his hair -- it's not bad ( Koujaku has always known how to touch him, none more perfectly than against his hair ), but it is a lot, and it makes Aoba's cheeks flare a bright red in contrast to his sky blue aesthetic, pants feeling tighter by the second. He wants to praise and curse Koujaku all at once, just for being so good with him, and when Aoba tilts his head back and lets out an unplanned moan, he's pretty sure that succeeds in it all the same.

At the expense of his own embarrassment, of course. It doesn't matter how often they do this -- Aoba will never stop being flustered at some of the things Koujaku does, some of the things he says. Aoba's been with women before, shared kisses with the occasional man, but it's never been anything like how it is with Koujaku. Generally, he prides himself on being kind of confident, kind of in control. With Koujaku? He feels wild, bursting with energy, with love, with passion.

But that's explained easily enough -- Aoba's never been in love before, at least not to his knowing. Some part of him think he's always loved Koujaku, from the first moment they met, and that he's the reason why none of Aoba's previous relationships have ever worked out. Koujaku's always been like the sun, his love bright and brilliant, blinding Aoba from anyone else. There's only Koujaku, that's all Aoba can see. ]

It is. [ He pouts, more obviously now, ducking his head down to try and escape Kojaku's nuzzles. A hand dips down the front opening on his kimono to flatten against his hard chest, finger pads being only soft as they skate across warm, beautiful skin. Aoba would sigh in pleasure, if he weren't trying so hard not to. ] I-it's so... easy, for you.

[ part of the reason koujaku loves this so much is just seeing aoba react. they've been through so much - both together and separate - but in moments like this it's just them. it's just koujaku's hands, aoba's noises, arching and pushing and nuzzling up against each other like there's nothing else in the world. he's learned aoba's reactions, by this point. knows when he's pushing just enough, not enough, or has gone too far. he's learned the lines of his body, the tints to his face, the hitches and purrs. it's amazing how, after so long of taking such care to notice each and every thing aoba does, it can still send shivers down koujaku's back. just to see him like this, to know it's at koujaku's own hands.

it's like a drug.

the moan does all sorts of thing to koujaku, namely sending his blood moving very quickly down south, but he doesn't let it distract him. doesn't let him take that away from the touch of aoba's skin against his fingers, how he can feel just how tight aoba's jeans are getting through the denim. he wants to do everything and more, give everything and more, because aoba deserves that. deserves the world. but koujaku can only do so much, and if this is enough for aoba, then he's doing well.

so koujaku smiles lightly against aoba's hair at the pout, continues to nose his way through the locks. gentle, more gentle than he is normally, even when aoba tries to escape. the touch of his fingers against koujaku's chest, though, has koujaku tensing. jumping a bit under the heat of them. ] Aoba- [ his voice has that layer of lust to it, that deep, huskey sort of tone. he wants to take aoba's hand away from him, because that touch is going to push him over the edge, but he doesn't want to let go of where his hands are currently. instead, he compromises, reaching forward to unzip the front of aoba's jeans. ignoring the way he wants to shiver, the goosebumps that had raced out across his skin, koujaku just trails his nose down, to aoba's ear, down to his neck. ]

This isn't a competition. [ koujaku almost chuckles. almost. but he holds it back, leaving the laugh to coat his words. ]

[ Aoba curls up to meet his every motion, letting out a strangled, cut off sound when Koujaku just barely adds pressure to the needy front of his jeans, automatically thrusting his hips up to try and entice him further. Koujaku's always like this -- always giving in bed, always being the source of pleasure for the two of them. He always puts Aoba first, always, and Aoba sort of loves that about him, along with everything else that goes into making up Koujaku.

But he also wants to return it, without really having a means to. Worrying his bottom lip, Aoba pushes his hand through Koujaku's kimono, keeping his touches casual, almost innocent. Tiptoeing up his muscles while trying to stay impassive to whatever Koujaku is doing with his hands is nearly impossible, so Aoba just blushes thoroughly, clamping his pointer finger and thumb around Koujaku's nipple. Tugging on it, teasingly. ]

... I know. [ And it isn't. Aoba just wishes he were half as good as Koujaku at some of the things they do -- sex being the top priority. He wishes, before anything else, that he could make Koujaku feel the same things that Aoba feels when they're together like this, the same sorts of pleasure, the same happiness. Tilting his head back to give Koujaku room to nuzzle at, Aoba sets his free hand on the back of Koujaku's head and strokes his pillowy soft hair, sweetly. He has a dirty move up his sleeve -- of course, it isn't a competition, but if it was, well. Aoba would be set on winning.

Turning his head, he kisses Koujaku's forehead, sifting his fingers through his hair in tandem with his words: ]

I love you, Koujaku.

[ And blushing pretty thoroughly. Dirty move, but effective. ]

[ koujaku's hand retreats just a bit when aoba reacts, just a little teasingly, just to see, before he can't even keep up with it and ends up pressing back against the front of aoba's jeans. giving him the pressure where he wants it, how he likes it, as far as koujaku can tell. he slips his hand right into the spot that he's opened up by unzipping aoba's jean, pressing against his cock through the fabric of his underwear, because this is aoba and this is aoba leaving himself open, leaving himself vulnerable, for him. he wraps his hand around aoba and squeezes, gently, trying to wring a sound out of him.

but then there is aoba's hand, there is aoba's hand on his chest, and koujaku has to freeze because if he didn't, there was a good chance of him losing everything. ] Aoba- [ he tries again, with more warning this time, but then aoba pinches his nippe and koujaku hisses, body growing tense, sobconsciously tightening his hand where it's holding aoba through the fabric of his underwear. it's a good second or two of little movement from either of them before koujaku can even breathe again, leaning down when aoba tilts his head up, taking a deep breath where he still has his face buried in aoba's hair, needing the scene of him to calm him down.

aoba's hand on the back of his head is helpful, too, easing koujaku back down into some semblance of control. reminding him that he can do this, he can make it. when aoba turns to kiss koujaku's forehead, a smile breaks across his face. a smile that turns very quickly into a frown as a very bright, very red blush races across his cheeks and ears.

dirty, dirty move. ] Aoba... [ koujaku has to pull away from him a little, then. put some space between them so that he can look down at aoba's face, see his expression, his eyes. nevermind that it totally opens him up to teasing, what with how ridiculous he looks himself, but he needs aoba to see how sincere he is when he says this next bit. how honest. ] I love you too. I always have.

[ To be fair, Aoba does genuinely like Mizuki. Probably more than what's okay between fuck buddies, but Aoba tries hard not to think about most of the time. They just mess around, and that's that. Fucking is something they do and they don't question it -- no strings attached, no complications. They're still friends and all, just...

Friends who do this.

The Junk Shop is largely underpopulated today, so Aoba thought it was as good a time as any to waste the day way with Mizuki. He'll throw the closed sign up and wait for him, and get fucked on the counter, the floor, the back room, the bathroom, wherever. Aoba wonders when he started being okay with all this -- but he guess he always was. Wouldn't he, after all, take Mizuki in any form he's granted?

Waiting, he sends off a text "junk shop ten mins y/n?", before going to turn over the closed sign in the shop, fumbling around with whatever knick knacks he can find to pass the time. Maybe he owes this to Mizuki. Maybe his body is all he can offer him anymore, after all that had happened with Scrap and Aoba's failure. He deserves something, doesn't he? After all that pain. And maybe a hole to fuck is all Aoba can be for him. ]

[ and mizuki doesn't really know what he wants.

for all they told him, he's made a full recovery. his body is fine (it wasn't really hurt to begin with) and they couldn't find anything wrong with his head. most of the time, he can't either, amazed that he seems to be able to think, move, make his own decisions. morphine had complete control over him for only a little while, and yet it felt like an entire lifetime had been spent stuck inside his own head. the doctors had told him to be on the lookout for any kind of symptoms - to come talk to them about headaches, jerky movements, signs that his brain wasn't communicating with the rest of the body.

they didn't warn him about everything else.

images, voices, moments where he closes his eyes and he's back on those stairs. back in his own head. everything spins, everything hurts, and then he wakes up feeling like nothing and everything is out of place all at the same time. it only happens when he sleeps, though, so he goes out of his way to avoid it as much as he can. find ways to waste time, things to do to distract him from the shambles his brain has been left in.

this arrangement he has with aoba goes back to when they were friends. back before rib, before rhyme. when it was just them against the world and everything was okay. mizuki finds himself drawn back to that feeling, that vague sense of carefree attitudes and bulletproof egos. he's not really sure what it was that started it, to be honest, but he quickly became addicted, stopping by aoba's shop when he knew he was going to get off work. texting him in the middle of the night to see if he was awake.

aoba didn't seem to mind it. even when things got rough, even when mizuki was having a particularly bad day and found himself there, taking what he wanted more than anything. aoba didn't complain, aoba didn't pull away, aoba asked him to come back.

the only person who cares about mizuki, at this point. the only person who worries.

it's raining out when he gets the text, pulling out his coil to check just in case. it doesn't take long before he's sending back y and tucking his hands back into his pockets, ducking his head under his hood and walking off down the street. it hasn't been a particularly off day, yet, and mizuki has been able to avoid the paranoia, the cold sweats. for all he knows the day might end well, but he refuses to let himself think that way. to let himself hope.

there's still too much in him that's twisted up, too much that's damaged. aoba deserves to spend his time with whole people, actual people, but mizuki is selfish enough to keep coming back. like now, as he slides through the front door of the shop that isn't locked, despite the closed sign on the door, and locks it behind him. he only pulls his hood off as he walks around to the center of the shop, near the counter, yes dark and only a little wild tonight. ]

[ Feeling guilty doesn't even begin to cover what Aoba feels, when he looks at Mizuki, sees the pain he's in, sees how happy and beautiful he used to be. Aoba never meant to hurt him -- he didn't know what he was doing, even, didn't know he had this power -- but it was, ultimately, his sole fault. He didn't do it on purpose, but he was the only one who could have saved him -- and he failed Mizuki, failed him horribly, in the worst way that he could. It was his fault.

So then, this is his apology, isn't it? Saying I'm sorry, please do what you want with me, I'm yours, like his body is some sort of gift he can give Mizuki. That's not it. It's not an apology, it's -- it's Aoba being greedy, Aoba wanting Mizuki, but not being able to admit it. Not thinking he's worthy enough to have him in more than late hours of the night, or dark, dirty bathrooms, where they fuck and then leave. This is all he permits himself to have of Mizuki, this is already more than he deserves.

And, he thinks, am I using him? as Mizuki walks through the front door, promptly shutting up Aoba's thought process. He'll have time to consider it later, time to hate himself, time to say that what the last time before calling Mizuki a day later, asking him to some abandoned building somewhere. He just can't stay away, now that he's had a taste. He can't stay away and he hates himself for it, but he keeps reaching out to Mizuki with desperate hands, asking for scraps of his attention, because even an inch will satisfy Aoba. For awhile. ]

Hey.

[ He nods, ducking his head down as he comes around the counter. His jacket's been stripped and left behind, and he could take Mizuki's hand but he doesn't -- just spins on his heels and heads towards the bathroom, prompting Mizuki to follow in after him. A safety measure, in case someone comes peeking in through the door windows, not to mention that the bathroom is disgusting and that's exactly how Aoba feels about himself. Disgusting, hideous, unworthy of this man he destroyed.

The second they pass the barrier to the bathroom, and the door's been shut, Aoba automatically falls to his knees, pushing his nose against the front of Mizuki's pants. This is it, this is all he's good for, and he'd going to do the best job he can. For Mizuki. ]

[ the worst part of all this is that mizuki doesn't blame aoba - not really. his head is such a mess of self-hatred, guilt, anger and confusion that he doesn't know what to feel, where to go with it. he's never blame aoba - hell, aoba is the only reason he's semi-back to normal in the first place. but aoba is also the only one he has latched onto, the one outlet to his frustration. he doesn't want to take it out on him, hates that whenever he's in a bad place it's always aoba who manages to step in the line of fire, but he doesn't know how to stop it. doesn't know what it means to be able to control your own mind.

mizuki hates the shell of his former self that he's become. in the beginning, he thought that spending more time with aoba would help him recover, get that side of him back. but all he's been able to do since is hate himself more and more each day. he's not the same mizuki that aoba thinks he's getting, he's not the mizuki that aoba looks at with those soft eyes, that smile. he's not anything that aoba wants him to be, not even close, and he hates every second that he breathes that he can't be that for the other. aoba saved him, and what does he get in return?

this mess of a boy. not even a man. not even a human.

he's spent too much tome wondering why. why aoba gives him the time of day, why aoba texts him over and over, why he asks him to come over to fuck. sure, the sex is great. the sex is the only thing on some days that keeps mizuki from losing himself completely, but aoba could have anyone he wanted. anyone. why him?

but there he is. there is aoba, beautiful, perfect, standing against the counter waiting for mizuki. there is aoba who greets him, who ducks around the counter in a wordless command for mizuki to follow - a command he's powerless to resist. mizuki's head is still down, eyes to his feet, as he follows the beacon that is aoba, stepping into the bathroom behind him. he knows he shouldn't still be surprised when aoba drops down to his knees, knows this is the only reason aoba would ever need him, would ever call him, but still his heart tightens in his chest, his breath caught in his throat.

it only takes a moment before he's past that, though, letting himself fall back against the corner of the bathroom, the grimy walls and stained floor. this really is the only place mizuki belongs, stuck to the corners, the shadows, hidden from any sort of attention he might otherwise attract. aoba is the confusing part of all this, standing out against the grey and white of the room, pushing his nose, his hands, up against the dark of mizuki's jeans. mizuki lets out a breath, something strained, something desperate, before his hands drop down to aoba's shoulders, his chin. ]

Aoba... [ his eyes are lidded where he looks down at his old best friend, a spark of something flickering behind his eyelids. mizuki only really feels alive like this, these moments where it's like his blood has been jumpstarted, his heart beating again. the wall is the only reason he's still standing, but for now that's okay. ]

[ Despite not feeling entirely genuine with himself, Aoba smiles warmly up to Mizuki, parting his lips to suck on the denim of Mizuki's jeans. He was the one to initiate it this time, which means Mizuki must not be in too bad of a mood -- means Aoba can do what he can to please him, instead of staying quiet, staying pliant, while Mizuki has his way.

It's better like this, anyway. It's how Aoba can say I love you without ever needing words, it's how he can show how much he cares for Mizuki without breaking his stride. He wouldn't -- doesn't -- do this with anyone else. Not because the opportunity hasn't presented itself, but because he doesn't really care about anyone else -- not in the same way he cares about Mizuki, not in the same way his entire loyalty, all his dedication is put towards this man and making him as happy as possible. It's by inches, not miles. Most days, Mizuki looks no better than the day before, but Aoba keeps things going like this, because he has to try somehow.

That fact that he gets plenty out of this arrangement too, shows just how selfish he really is. ]

Just relax, okay?

[ Dexterously, Aoba unbuckles his belt, pushing up his shirt so he can kiss at Mizuki's pretty, tanned skin while he fumbles around with his jeans. Aoba was the one who called, so he must have been craving this, huh? Must have wanted it so bad, he couldn't wait for whenever Mizuki would need him next.

It's true, but there's more to it. Honestly, he's just lonely with Mizuki gone -- and if he can only have him when his cock is in Aoba's mouth, or fucking him, then that's fine, because maybe it helps Aoba feel loved for a little bit, for how long they're kept together. Tugging his jeans off his hips, Aoba zeroes in a closes his mouth around Mizuki's dick through his underwear, sucking at the head of it with a reverent expression. He shouldn't tease, but it's not like that. Aoba's doing what he loves doing, isn't he? And he'll commit it all to memory. ]

[ it's not fair, that all aoba has to do is smile at him like that and mizuki feels better. it's not fair, because mizuki doesn't deserve to feel better, mizuki shouldn't feel anything other than dirty, broken, empty. but then he sees aoba, sees that smile, feels that warmth on his skin, and mizuki does. even if it's feint, even if it's a fleeting spark, it's something.

maybe that's why mizuki has spent his life chasing after it. maybe that's why, even after the years that aoba refused to join his gang, refused get a tattoo, refused him, he kept coming back. because back then he wasn't broken, back then he could have offered something to aoba, but now? now he just takes. he's just a nuisance. now he's just that hooded figure, that person everyone wants to leave. because he makes them uncomfortable, makes then feel dirty, and mizuki doesn't really blame them. though it confuses him, still, why aoba is here at all.

but it's hard to think when aoba is mouthing at the denim of mizuki's jeans. when his hands are right there and mizuki's body reacts. when he leans back against the wall he ends up hitting it a little hard, his attention on aoba rather than anything else, but it doesn't matter.

just relax and mizuki closes his eyes, focuses his attention, leaning back against the wall and letting his hands leave aoba's shoulders, splaying across the dirt and grime of the wall holding him up. aoba's hands work quickly, with ease, and the moment they touch the tan of mizuki's abdomen the muscles jump. not used to the warmth, the light. ]

Aoba... [ he just wants to say his name, to keep the sound of it on his lips, because that's all mizuki really has. aoba moves to mouth at mizuki's cock through his underwear this time, the brush and slight pressure of it making mizuki tense, his hands bunching on the wall in an attempt to grab onto something. it takes a moment or two before his brain catches up, his arms moving to grab onto the material on aoba's shoulders, the other sliding up the back of his neck. he wants to grab, wants to tug, wants to jerk in that violent way he's prone to now, in that way his body screams, but mizuki is doing his best to hold it back. ] Hurry.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

i've been told that you're hard to love but i still want to try

sparkles at

bullies

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YOU CAN'T MAKE ME STOP

I WOULD NEVER

:C

:*

c:

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