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Shuichi Saihara was the most frustrating son of a bitch produced by the human race.
Kokichi had known a few detectives during his many years of crime and mayhem, but Shuichi topped them all by sheer virtue of how blind he was when it came to a few flirtatious advances. This had been a plan of impulse. No thinking it through. No intricate script. No pausing or mulling over details. And now Kokichi found himself pacing the length of the Love Hotel suite wondering what kind of shit he'd gotten himself into this time. The fact that he hadn't planned in detail scared the hell out of him, something he would never admit to himself or anyone else.
The decor was downright nasty, all bright colours and no charm. That said, the sheer virtue of a comfortable queen-sized bed went straight to his groin.
And damn if he wasn't determined to get Shuichi on that bed screaming for mercy.
When the doorway opened, Kokichi shoved his worries out of his mind, put on his best mask, and swung around to face him.
Shuichi stood in front of the closed door, looking thoroughly confused about how he'd gotten there. The key was still in his hand. Kokichi's plan rocketed through his head. He could do this. How hard could it be? Shuichi was frustrating and downright thick sometimes, but he more than made up for that with his many, many positive qualities.
“Aw, man,” Kokichi casually shrugged. “It’s been awhile since I landed into trouble like this.”
Shuichi blinked. “...Trouble?”
“Trapping me in a place like this...That’s very like you, Mister Detective. But I won’t tell you where I hid the stolen gem! Torture won’t work either, y’know!”
Shuichi cocked his head, mouth curving into a contemplative and mildly horrified frown. Adorable. “I—I’m not going to torture you! What exactly do you think a detective does?”
Kokichi searched his features for any sign of realization or comprehension and found nothing. Time to up the ante.
“You’re planning on tyin’ and roughin’ up my body, aren’t you?” Kokichi cooed. “That’s why there’s a bed, huh?”
Shuichi’s mild horror ballooned into full-blown horror. His eyes bulged out of his sockets. “N—No, no, you’ve got it all wrong!”
“Eh? But isn’t that what happens to a phantom thief when they’re caught?”
“A phantom thief?”
“But y’know...if you’re into some crazy kinks, even I won’t be able to keep up.”
“I said, you’ve got it wrong—” Shuichi started.
Then, he cut himself off.
Ah. There was that sweet realization. Shuichi’s eyes raked over Kokichi’s body, not with lust, but resignation. It wasn’t what Kokichi wanted to see.
“...I’m not gonna do anything to ya,” Shuichi said, putting on the heaviest, most indistinguishable accent Kokichi had ever heard. He clamped down on his tongue to prevent himself form laughing. “From here on out, you’re the cops’ problem. If you’re tryin’ to rile me up to give yourself a chance to escape...No dice, Kokichi.”
“Oh, figured it out already?" Kokichi beamed. “Geez, I was willing to let you do whatever you want to me...since I love you, Shuichi...But wow, you even researched my name! My identity is bare and naked, for your eyes only!”
The character broke. “Kokichi...did you...just call me Shuichi?”
God, this guy was thick. “Yeah, well, looking up your name was a piece of cake! If you’re not gonna do anything, then maybe I will.”
Kokichi closed the distance between them, grinning so hard his cheeks throbbed from the effort. Pinned against the door, Shuichi gawked helplessly at him.
“Ah, hey!” Shuichi exclaimed.
“No need to be scared,” said Kokichi. “What did you think I was gonna do to you?”
“Ah, I’m—I’m simply being cautious,” said Shuichi. He sidled to the right, backing up until he was in the middle of the room and a safe distance away. “We aren’t exactly friends, Kokichi.”
“Geez, don’t be so cold to me. You’ve been chasing after me for so long. The stealing part doesn’t excite me as being pursued by you, y’know. Don’t you feel the same, Shuichi? You weren’t bored playing with me, were you?”
“Ah, well, I wouldn’t—I wouldn’t say—”
He wasn’t getting the picture. Time to change tactics. Kokichi switched his tone from soothing to aggressive. “Well, I don’t care what you say!”
“...Because you just do as you please, don’t you, Kokichi?”
Kokichi radiated with joy. “Are you mad because I toyed with you? Don’t worry. I’m always thinking about you! You’re always trying your best to catch me. I really have to give it my all to win.”
“You seem to be enjoying this for a cornered criminal.”
“Cuz the game’s not over yet,” Kokichi sauntered forwards, hands clasped behind his back and giving him his best ‘come hither’ look. “Hey, Shuichi...What would you do if I told you that I wanted you to catch me.”
“Huh?”
Oh my God. “There’s a transmitter on my body, so my friends probably have this place surrounded already. Looks like you’ll be the one getting all tied and roughed up, Shuichi!”
“Th—That’s not...” Shuichi stammered. He took a breath. Clenched his jaw. “Kokichi. Your lies don’t work on me.”
“Aw, you’re not shaken up at all. I thought you would be more excited. That’s too bad...I really wanted your eyes to be on me.”
“I thought...you didn’t care about how I felt...”
“That was a lie. Y’know, since I’m a liar. But, when I said I wanted you to catch me...That was definitely not a lie.”
“What do you mean?”
God, did he have to spell it out for him? The time for subtly was over.
“It means,” Kokichi stressed, taking a tentative step forwards. Shuichi took a step back. “You can do whatever you want to me. And that’s the truth. Come. Play with me. Let’s do a lot more together.”
“Kokichi?”
Kokichi advanced. Now gripped in full-blown panic, his face flushed, his movements uncoordinated, Shuichi was absolutely powerless as he backed up until he got to the edge of the bed. Kokichi pressed his hand flat against his chest and pushed. The Ultimate Detective fell over without too much effort.
“Kokichi, wait!” Shuichi spluttered, panic flaring. “Wait!”
Kokichi stared down at Shuichi’s prone form across the pink sheets, watched as a flurry of confusion and shock tugged for attention. He really wasn’t getting it. Kokichi wondered if he’d ever kissed before, and then caught himself wondering what Shuichi's lips tasted like, what his bare skin felt like underneath his, what he tasted—
Wow, his thoughts were getting dirty.
Looming over Shuichi, however, it became clear that the Ultimate Detective had no idea what was going on.
Kokichi resisted the urge to audibly groan and give Shuichi a few good slaps. How dense could you be? No matter how much he loved this man, he just wanted to strangle him for being a thick-headed moron. Wasn’t Kokichi making it perfectly clear? Was it the wrong setting? What did he have to do to spur his interest? Staring down at him, Kokichi was surprised by the plethora of desire throbbing at the front of his skull. He wanted Shuichi. He wanted to feel his weight on him. He wanted to wake up aching for him. He wanted the warmth of his lips. He wanted to be taken and shattered, then pieced back together. He wanted to expose everything to Shuichi that he was terrified of showing to everyone else.
And it occurred to him—a terrible, horrible, awful realization—that this was probably-entirely-almost-certainly one-sided. There was no desire in Shuichi’s glistening eyes, no hint of lust or want, only naked confusion. The suspension floating somewhere in the air made Kokichi all hot and bothered as well as acutely aware of Shuichi's delicate, near-feminine features. Some part of Kokichi told him to crawl on top of Shuichi, the other screamed at him to abort mission.
He hit the abort button.
“Just kidding!” Kokichi suddenly exclaimed, flashing a smile.
“W—What?” Shuichi blinked.
“I got you there, didn’t I?” Kokichi teased.
Time to make a run for it and save face. Kokichi shifted his weight and made to sprint for the door and—
—Shuichi grabbed his sleeve.
Kokichi lurched backward and landed, hard, on the bed. Darkness encroached at the edge of his vision, and when it cleared, he saw that it was now Shuichi who loomed overhead. Shuichi crawled right on top of him and planted his arms and legs so as to pin him. Kokichi's arms crunched together in front of his body. He was held firmly enough that he could wiggle out if he really wanted to, but not enough that he had a lot of mobility.
The carefully laid plan Kokichi had concocted to make this happen unravelled in a brilliance haze of incomprehensible emotion. It made him swell with euphoria.
“Kokichi Oma,” Shuichi said. “You...are a liar.”
Kokichi glared challengingly up at him. “Prove it, Mister Detective.”
When they kissed, it was tender and soft and—not really like any kiss Kokichi had before. There wasn't a tremendous amount of experience there. Most of his kisses had been relegated to dark closets where he and the other person fondled around for a bit, not in a bright room where the energy crackled like little shots of lightening. Kokichi was so occupied with the tight feeling in his heart that he forgot to memorize the taste of Shuichi’s lips, and when he broke apart, he found himself yearning for more.
“I’m a top,” Kokichi blurted out.
“You sure about that?” Shuichi asked.
“Always. I’m a top.”
“Kokichi,” he said. “How far are we going with this?”
“Going with what?” Kokichi asked.
Shuichi gave him a sardonic glare that Kokichi answered with a smile.
“Kiss me again?”
Shuichi complied. This time, Kokichi had the presence of mind to memorize the taste, and it was the sweet-yet-acidic taste of watermelon, as potent as a summer day and as indulgent as his strangest fantasies. It was perfect.
As they kissed, Kokichi reached up and pulled off his scarf, shimmied out of his shirt, then pulled off his pants and boxers at the same time. He threw his clothes aside until he was left unashamedly naked.
"That was quick," Shuichi remarked. "You seem a little eager."
"If you're gonna rough me up, we may as well get it over with," Kokichi sang. "So you gonna get naked or what?"
Shuichi flushed. “O—Okay...”
“C’mon, you know how this works, don’t you?”
“I wasn’t born yesterday.”
“Then c’mon, already, c’mon.”
Shuichi huffed something that sounded like ‘impatient’. He turned and, stealing a small, uncertain look to Kokichi, started to unbutton his shirt on the side of the bed. As he pulled off his clothes, Kokichi got a good view of Shuichi's pale back and the subtle protrusion of his shoulder blades. With that, he couldn't keep his hands to himself. Kokichi latched onto him from behind, wrapping his arms firmly around him.
“I can’t—“ Shuichi started, then cut off as Kokichi nipped at his ear. “I can’t take off my clothes if you’re clinging to me.”
“Sure you can,” Kokichi cooed.
“...Are you going to keep being this difficult?”
“I dunno. If you want me to stop, you’re gonna have to tie me up.”
By the way Shuichi sighed, he wasn't ready for that prospect. He resigned himself to trying to undress with Kokichi clinging to him like a stubborn toddler. Kokichi pulled him back onto the bed and there was a great deal of fumbling as Shuichi somehow managed to pull out of his clothes. All the while, Kokichi planted kisses on whatever he could reach—his shoulders, his necks, his cheeks, anywhere. Just as long as it was Shuichi.
When he was fully exposed, Kokichi paused the kisses, sat up, and gave Shuichi a long, appreciative look. The Ultimate Detective had a long, wiry body, all smooth and unmarked and unscarred. Ideal in every way and everything he had imagined it to be and more.
“D—Don’t stare,” Shuichi muttered. He blushed again and the blush extended all the way from his face to his chest.
“Aw, I can’t help if I like to admire some good work. You should thank your parents for that body; if they hadn’t done the do, the world wouldn’t be graced with its presence.”
“Don’t make this weird, Kokichi.”
Kokichi was pretty sure it was already weird.
“You’re no fun,” Kokichi whined. “C’mon, Mister Detective. You caught me. I’m hiding a transmitter somewhere. Why don’cha try to find it?”
“Are we really gonna roleplay?”
“C’mon, it’s just a little motivation. You done stalling?”
“S—Stalling?”
“Isn’t that what all this talk is for? But I guess it’s fine. I am top, after all, so any minute now I'll pin you down and let you have it."
“You think so, huh?”
“I don’t think so. I know so.”
He gave Shuichi a daring look. Shuichi rolled his eyes, but this time he got the hint. Advancing over him, soon they tumbled over the bed again, play-wrestling and with Kokichi laughing uncontrollably. He was surprised to find that Shuichi was actually a decent size, not at all under-sized like he'd expected. Grinning mischievously, Kokichi reached for him.
Shuichi seized his wrist and pinned it down.
“No,” said Shuichi.
“W—What?” Kokichi blinked.
“No,” Shuichi reiterated. “Not until I say so.”
Kokichi’s momentary panic faded.
“I told you,” said Kokichi, playing along. “I’m top.”
“You wish.”
Shuichi seized Kokichi. Up until then, he had been not-quite hard, something that immediately changed when the Ultimate Detective traced his dick with one hand and and grippd his inner thigh with the other. The light sensation of Shuichi's fingers ghosting over his skin drew a strained gasp from somewhere deep within him.
Where had that come from?
Shuichi must be dirtier than he thought because his hand moved over him with the precision of a well-practiced porn star. Maybe he masturbated a lot? Kokichi wondered if Shuichi had ever thought of him while touched himself. The thought erupted into stars into stars when Shuichi pulled his hand along his dick and gave a sharp twist at the top. Kokichi forced his heels into the sheets, raising his arm to cover his face in the crook of his elbow.
“What was that you were saying about being top?” Shuichi asked.
Kokichi ground his teeth together as Shuichi experimentally stroked him up and down, rubbing his thumb along the tip and spreading the liquid oozing out. When he peeked out, he realized that Shuichi was transfixed on him, studying the way Kokichi gasped and groaned with each painfully slow stroke. He squirmed and contemplated shoving Shuichi down and showing him how to do it. Such an impulsive thought shot down as Shuichi quickened the strokes, faster and faster, Kokichi's heart struggling to keep pace.
He came—much too quickly, leaving him unsatisfied and embarrassed. Squirming against his orgasm, he grit down against his yelp, his semen scattering across his chest and a flick hitting his chin. Shuichi stroked him through it until his dick went soft.
“You came already?” Shuichi asked.
“S—Shut up,” Kokichi stammered.
Shuichi sat back up, disquieted in the best possible way, his eyes blown out and vivid. All that and he hadn’t even been touched yet.
Time to correct that.
Kokichi reached for Shuichi again. For the second time, his hand was knocked away.
“Mouth,” Shuichi commanded.
“Oh,” said Kokichi. “Sure.”
“Have you...done one before?”
Nope. “Tch, of course I have! Who do you think I am?”
Kokichi shuffled forward on his elbows. Shuichi propped himself up on some pillows, expression unreadable.
How hard could it be to give a blowjob?
He pressed himself against Shuichi and experimentally licked from the base to tip. Kokichi steadied himself by bracing against Shuichi's legs, pressing so hard that he left red marks behind. If it was painful, Shuichi didn't complain. He entwined his fingers in Kokichi's hair. Not pushing, not pulling, just holding him there as if he was afraid Kokichi would melt away if he let go. Kokichi felt like he was in another universe, his heart pounding and part of him wanting to stop but unable to do so.
A part of him couldn't believe it was happening, another part was exhilarated that his wildest fantasies were forming in front of him in a canvas of blinding colour. From some other universe, he watched himself go to the tip and—tentatively, desperately—take it in. He wished Shuichi would say something, to drown out the fleeting images and thoughts streaming through his mind. On the other hand, if he had, Kokichi would miss the sight of Shuichi's lower abdomen twitch and the resonate moan shaking him to his core. In his mouth, Shuichi filled out and swelled. Despite his previous observations that Shuichi was an average size, it didn't feel that way now, not with the way his lips were stretched and fluid flooding over his tongue.
Shuichi shivered and rocked into Kokichi's mouth, not enough to hit his gag reflex but on a thin line. Kokichi half-expected Shuichi to hear Shuichi to tell him dirty things he'd always imagined people said during this part. Things like: 'good boy' and 'deeper' and 'harder'. Then he decided that it was so, so much sweeter to hear Shuichi moan and shiver, subject to Kokichi's whim and tongue. Kokichi tightened the grip on his thigh possessively, overcome with the need to break Shuichi's composure. He was surprised how well he was keeping it together. What Shuichi needed was a little push over the edge.
He put a bit more vigour into his work, swirling his tongue, swallowing, gently closing his teeth not quite enough to hurt but enough for Shuichi to freeze, focusing his efforts on the tip, and then withdrawing to catch his breath. Once he withdrew, he gave Shuichi a bold look, and to his utter delight Shuichi looked taken apart at the seams, flushed, heavy, and sweaty—everything Kokichi had hoped to accomplish. Shuichi was making a chorus of affirmations intermixed with breathless noise.
Shuichi reached forwards and seized Kokichi's hair. There was no pretence of gentleness this time. He pushed Kokichi back over him and again Kokichi took him into his mouth. Shuichi bucked his hips a little more aggressively. At first, he tried to maintain control of the situation by giving the tip a small upward flick of the tongue whenever he reached the tip, but then he couldn't even do that as Shuichi pulled him off.
Startled by abrupt stop, Kokichi blinked up at him.
"What gives?" Kokichi complained.
"Not yet," said Shuichi.
Shuichi seized Kokichi's shoulders and shoved him against the mattress, trailing up his body until he reached his mouth. His lips ghosted over his.
Kissing his forehead, Shuichi leaned far over Kokichi, reaching towards the end of the bed. Kokichi got a perfect eye-full of Shuichi's chest, particularly the smooth indent of his collarbone and the bob of a subtle Adam's apple. He couldn't bring himself to be embarrassed that Shuichi's fully-erect dick flopped against his chest.
When Shuichi pulled back, he was holding a small bottle of—oh.
“Where was that?” Kokichi asked.
“On the pillow,” Shuichi answered.
Fuck, what kind of hotel was this?
Brushing Kokichi's hair off his brow, Shuichi fixed him with a hard, analytical stare.
"Now...what was that you were saying about a transmitter being hidden on your body?"
Oh.
Oh.
They were actually going with that, okay. Kokichi could roll with this.
“It wasn’t in your clothes,” Shuichi noted, even though Kokichi knew for a fact that he hadn’t checked. “Maybe you swallowed it?”
Without warning, Shuichi rammed his fingers into Kokichi’s mouth. Somehow he felt this was going off from the script he’d vaguely formed in his head. He squirmed, but Shuichi pressed against his abdomen to keep him steady as he probed the inside of his mouth. Kokichi sucking his dick must've instilled more confidence in Shuichi, because there was a marked change accompanying the sense that he was losing his perpetual control. He wasn't used to that, wasn't used to feeling so exposed and not having a comeback on the tip of his tongue.
Kokichi tried to say, "I didn't swallow anything." It came out garbled.
"Guess we'll need to check in there," Shuichi mused, freeing his fingers. "As the cops say, spread 'em."
Heat surged through Kokichi's face. He didn't realize Shuichi could get this dirty.
He loved it and complied without thinking.
Shuichi traced his fingers along the length of his body, reaching the end, along his thighs, slowly reaching between his legs and—
Kokichi gasped. His breath was forced out of him. He shifted his weight, trying to move away and only succeeding in knocking his head against the headboard. Shuichi held his legs apart and slid his finger inside. Fresh lightning tingled across his skin. Hair stood upright along with his senses, every small detail jumped out at him like he'd become omniscient. The slight groan of the bed frame. His red-hot skin. The sheets coiling under his fingers as he held them in an unyielding grip.
“Dammit,” Kokichi hissed, throwing the crook of his elbow back over his eyes. “Dammit, shit, dammit, dammit, dammit.”
“Are you okay?” Shuichi asked.
“If you stop, I’ll kill you.”
Shuichi laughed and continued, "I don't feel a transmitter in here. Maybe I should feel around some more."
Kokichi tried to spit out a witty remark. That was lost when Shuichi curled his finger and brushed that spot, sending him into a spiral of almost-painful-pleasure erupting from the toes to the tips of his fingers. Against his will, his body contorted, his heels digging deeper into the mattress as if he could hope to disappear into the fabric.
Shuichi stopped far, far too soon and went still. Kokichi just about sobbed, struggling to get him back into that spot.
“Eh—hang on,” said Shuichi. He withdrew his finger.
“Hurry up, already,” Kokichi whined.
“So impatient...We’ll need to work on that.”
Kokichi flared, breaking out in fresh sweat. Then he snapped back into his body and had the presence of mind to say, “Will you just hurry?”
He heard the distinctive pop of the bottle lid and then Shuichi’s finger was back, this time so cold that he tried to scoot away again. Shuichi seized him by the hips and pulled him onto his finger.
“Cold,” Kokichi complained. “Cold, cold, cold—”
Shuichi didn’t listen, just observed his face as he inserted his finger to the knuckle, unleashing an embarrassing, high-pitched squeal from Kokichi. The squeal only went higher when he reached for him and wrapped his hand around Kokichi, giving him a few good pumps for good measure.
His legs turned to jelly. Kokichi twitched uncontrollably as Shuichi moved his finger achingly slow. It took a while to find some semblance of rhythm. True to form, Kokichi couldn't help but giggle between the groaning, especially when Shuichi found that spot again and slid another finger in.
“Yeesh, you’re squirmy,” Shuichi noted.
Kokichi giggled. “I can’t—I can’t help it!”
He was squirmy, though, there was no denying that. His arms and legs flailed except for the arm over his eyes, he kicked, and Shuichi struggled to keep his fingers in place and not get knocked out.
After a while, Shuichi managed to get a third finger in and Kokichi felt himself on the verge of—something. Whatever it was, he was nearly over the edge, teetering, falling, shuddering—so many sensations blending together that he couldn't distinguish them from one another. His mind was the ocean, treacherous and unfathomable and he was lost. He grounded himself in reality by pushing against Shuichi's fingers, all feeling in his lower body relegated to crushing pleasure.
When Shuichi’s fingers withdraw, he felt empty and the ocean drained.
"I want to see you," Shuichi said breathlessly. It sounded like he was having trouble keeping it in.
Shuichi pulled Kokichi's arm from his face. Although sweaty and warm to the touch, Shuichi still had some semblance of composure, something Kokichi couldn’t say he had right now. When he looked up, the Ultimate Detective's eyes were glossy.
“What?” Kokichi mumbled. “Just—Just stick it in already.”
“I might reconsider this if you tell me where the transmitter is,” Shuichi teased.
“I’ll never talk!” Kokichi proclaimed dramatically.
“We’ll see.”
“‘We’ll see’?” Kokichi puffed out his cheeks. “Ha! Shows what you know, Mister Detective. Expert phantom thieves such as myself never—AH!”
Kokichi cut off when Shuichi suddenly bucked his hips. He all but screamed, squeezing whatever part of Shuichi he could reach, scratching his nails along his back. Kokichi’s arms and legs flailed again. Without his arm over his eyes, he felt exposed—more naked than he’d had when he’d undressed. He grabbed onto Shuichi and pulled him close, his legs splayed out on either side of him, his body curved into the sensation, desperate to hold onto it and never-never-never let it go.
Shuichi’s hand pressed into the mattress to the side of his head, close to his neck. In the haze of lust and pleasure, Kokichi fixed him with a firm stare.
“No choking,” he said.
Shuichi didn’t look surprised. “Alright.”
“I’m serious. No choking.”
“I won’t, I promise.”
Kokichi searched his face for a lie and found none. His efforts to analyze the situation cut off when Shuichi adjusted himself inside. Flashes of blinding light flickered before him, images pulsing and ending and starting again and making him dizzy. His world was spinning like a top and he couldn’t stop it. It went faster and faster until he felt himself being dragged out of his body once again. Where was he? Who was he? Did it really matter? All that he could think about was Shuichi, filling him up in every sense of the word.
"It's—where is—I can't," Kokichi muttered without thinking.
"Hey, are you okay?" Shuichi prompted, holding him tighter. "Damn, you're really tight. Do you want to stop?"
Kokichi squeezed, leaving red marks where his fingers were and his head still reeling.
Shuichi paused, waiting for a response. When Kokichi didn't answer, he started to back out.
“No-o-o-o,” Kokichi whined. “I’m okay. I'm okay. Please keep going. Please?”
Even with his hair askew and clearly ruffled by his own overwhelming pleasure, Shuichi hesitated. He had to think about it, because of course he did. This was Shuichi. He was the best at overthinking things.
"Are you sure?" Shuichi asked.
"It's good," said Kokichi. "It's so good. Please keep going."
Shuichi paused a second longer. Then he was moving. Shuichi wrapped his fingers in Kokichi's hair and Kokichi forgot all about the game they'd been playing about chasing and being chased, the pursuit and the catch, the thin line between the lie and the truth.
Lying could be tiring sometimes. Kokichi wondered if he’d ever be able to let them go.
They lay together like that for a while, then adjusted so they could look each other in the eye. Shuichi was rustled, but in control because he needed to be, because Kokichi had surrendered to him. Their lips met. This time the kiss was chaste and brief, because when Shuichi moved his hips, Kokichi threw his head back.
After that there was very little kissing; if there had been, teeth would break from mashing together so hard. Shuichi began agonizingly slow. It felt as though he'd sprouted many hands which trailed over Kokichi's flesh. Deft fingers fond the small parts that made Kokichi's mind sing and drew out sounds he didn't know he was capable of making. There were parts of his body that he didn't know could bring such unbelievable ecstasy just because it was Shuichi touching him, like the way Shuichi hands cupped his shoulder blades and the way he stroked his face and the way he intertwined their fingers—small, delicate intricacies of his body Kokichi had taken for granted until that moment. Shuichi's weight crushed him, the movement harder and desperate and quintessential.
The force pushed him deeper and deeper into the mattress. His legs lifted up and Shuichi settled into him. Kokichi was pulled in a thousand different directions, wanting the moment to end, wanting it to continue forever, a rush of white-hot sensation budding deep in his abdomen and roaring through his body. Kokichi couldn't keep still. He squirmed. He pushed back into Shuichi. He swirled his hips in a circular motion, which only spurred Shuichi on more and the cycle continued and the heat became a volcano. Kokichi couldn't stop making embarrassing noises and couldn't bring himself to care. He wasn't in control and it was perfect—it was beautiful to be able to stop analyzing, to stop thinking, to stop joking around for a glorious moment of vulnerability with the only person he could ever think of showing his back to.
Kokichi became aware of his heart raging in his chest, screaming for more, faster and faster, desperate for relief from a glorious high.
Shuichi ramming into him—
The heartbeat—
The volcano—
And then he was done in. A full-body shudder started from his toes and raged upwards. His heels hit the mattress again and he dug in for the storm. He went cold and then far too hot, his back arched, and he was sure that he screamed but he couldn’t quite be sure because while his body twitched and convulsed, he was floating somewhere up near the ceiling.
Kokichi clenched down on Shuichi and that was what ended it. Shuichi finished with a strained cry and curled over him. He buried his face in the crook of his neck, giving a few half-hearted thrusts to draw out the end for as long as possible.
Finally spent, Shuichi went limp and collapsed on top of Kokichi, crushing him. He didn't mind it. He felt protected.
They eased into silence and Kokichi listened to them breathing in tandem, hearts coming down from the high. Shuichi pulled out. Kokichi felt liquid running down his thighs, but didn't make an effort to move. He was still trembling.
Shuichi rolled off and lay beside him, stroking Kokichi's hair.
“Told you...that I wouldn’t talk,” Kokichi breathed.
Shuichi laughed, and it was the most entrancing sound Kokichi had heard since the door had opened.
Kokichi opened his eyes.
He was in his room and it was dark. The smell of sex was absent from the air, and there was no sound.
Groaning, he couldn’t help but contain the wave of disappointment crashing through him and he collapsed back into the sheets, staring at the dark ceiling and trying to imagine that it was the ceiling of the love hotel. Without the dream, he was left with a sense of endless want and emptiness, completely devoid of any real happiness.
Maybe it just wasn’t for him.
Then, in the darkness, an arm attached to a lithe body curled over his own.
“It was just another dream, Kokichi,” Shuichi murmured drowsily. “Go back to sleep.”