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It’s been five days, seven hours, and forty-three minutes since Sasaki has touched him. Five days since the innocent misunderstanding that led to Miyano’s wrist blooming purple and what was really a very minor scrape across his forearm. He’s tried to convince Sasaki of that every day since, but his boyfriend refuses to listen, staying just out of arm’s reach of him whenever they’re together, expression unreadable. The bruise had faded to nothing on day three, but he still has a small bandage patched over the scratch across his arm as a precaution. It’s the rainy season and the wind and muck that sometimes drifts during storms would irritate even a mostly-healed cut like his own, so there's no point in chancing an infection. He does wonder if his boyfriend would forget about it if he had decided to just leave it.
All Sasaki seems to do is glance forlornly at it when he’s around, and it’s starting to become more than a little annoying after so long. Miyano doesn’t think that they are fighting, doesn’t want to be, but it feels that way with the distance his boyfriend has forced between them. At this point, Miyano’s frustration is less at the misunderstanding and lack of communication and more with the severe lapse in attention. Usually the two of them are connected at the hip when they’re together. Now? Now Miyano can barely convince his boyfriend to accept a good morning kiss before heading off to their college classes. Quite frankly it is beginning to drive him insane.
“I just don’t know what to do Kuresawa.” He complains over lunch to his best friend, who offers him a generous half portion of his own attention that he splits from the text conversation he’s currently having with his girlfriend on his phone. “If it had been anyone else he would have moved on like normal after saying sorry, but he treats me like he thinks I’m made of glass-”
“You do bruise like a peach, if I recall.”
“Not helpful. And not the point- whether or not I bruise. He didn’t hurt me. Not on purpose, and I don’t think he ever would, but he’s stuck thinking of himself like a monster suddenly.” Miyano sighs and runs a hand through his bangs to push them out of his face a bit. He’s been due for a trim for over a week now, but the idea of going to someone else to get it done after the.. incident. Well, it’s kind of embarrassing to think of walking back into that shop after their display, but he hasn’t had a moment to run to the store and buy his own shears either. He might just have to rely on the handful of old hair clips he has stowed away in his bathroom for the next couple of days until he can figure out what to do about it.
“I don’t think I can ask you this, but my girlfriend wants to know.”
Miyano freezes, holds his breath and waits. God only knows what the fujoshi has to say about all of this, especially considering he’s certain she must know every detail he’s already spilled to Kuresawa. “What?”
“Do you actually want him to treat you rougher? Like, besides telling him it’s okay to make mistakes because you’re not going to die from a little bruise or cut—“ Kuresawa glances down at what is a far lengthier text bubble than whatever he’s speaking aloud. Whatever it must actually say, Miyano thinks he’s grateful for the summation instead. “Do you like being manhandled, I guess, is what she’s asking.”
Miyano’s ears are hot before his friend even finishes what he has to say. He must be beet red with the way he feels his skin flush as Kuresawa rounds the question out with a patient tilt of his head. Quietly he checks off some box in his mind, but politely waits for Miyano to recover before delving back into conversation with his girlfriend.
"It's not that I want him to be rougher.” Miyano mumbles, unsure but determined not to embarrass himself in front of Kuresawa by addressing the question too seriously. They’re in public after all. Anyone could overhear what he has to say, so he chooses his next words carefully. “I just don't like that sometimes he's clearly holding back when he has no reason to." His face is still glaringly hot, and he pretends not to notice the way Kuresawa almost immediately gets a scheming glint in his eyes before addressing his phone again.
Miyano fiddles with his thumbs as the conversation comes to a halt. His friend doesn’t bring it back up for the rest of their lunch hour together but Miyano can’t help but to dwell on the idea just a little bit. It’s ridiculous to think that he might be right but he doesn't want that… Does he?
Day six begins with Miyano formulating a plan. One that definitely could not end poorly. He’s got a date with Sasaki tonight, one that they’ve had planned for weeks now, so there's no chance that his boyfriend would back out on it. Not without one hell of an excuse. They were set to go to a movie premier followed by a fancy restaurant reservation and then a stroll along the pier, though if all goes according to plan they won’t make it past dinner.
It's a bit of a cruel plan, Miyano will admit, but as he pulls the satin vest over his freshly pressed button down, he thinks more about the end result. This will be the resolution to their week-long problem. Or at least that’s what he hopes as he stares at himself in the mirror.
The plan begins with carefully laid groundwork. First things first: his outfit is just a little disheveled, not quite ready to head out in. His boyfriend is downstairs in the living area waiting for him to finish up so that they can head out. So when he wanders down, fiddling with the cuffs of his shirtsleeves, he makes a point to step a little closer than Sasaki has recently been comfortable with, his expression dipping toward a pout.
“Are you ready to go?” Sasaki is staring at the open expanse of his neck beneath his ruffled collar as he speaks, something distant about his gaze that doesn’t quite equal his recent discomfort.
“Yeah, sorry, I was just,” There are hands at his neck in that moment, adjusting his collar, and he feels his cheeks heat when Sasaki’s fingertips brush over his collarbone. It’s so light of a touch that if it hadn’t been for their lack of contact in the past week, Miyano doesn’t think he would have noticed it otherwise. “Uh, just,” he swallows, eyes following his boyfriend’s hands as they move away from his collar.
“Just?” There’s a lilt to his voice that makes Miyano wonder if he’s been caught already.
“Just deciding if I should wear the vest or not.” Standing next to Sasaki now, he realizes he made the correct choice. The pop of color the deep blue of said fabric offers is a much needed accent to their full ensemble. They look like two pieces to a matching set and it’s cute, almost as cute as the way Sasaki’s face brightens when he smiles then. Things feel almost back to normal.
“You look good.” His boyfriend drags the back of his knuckles across his cheek in a sudden, careful caress, and only seems to notice that he’s done so when Miyano’s eyes flutter shut and he begins to lean into the touch. Almost immediately, as soon as he realizes he’s touched him unnecessarily, Sasaki snaps his hand back and down to his side, eyes dark. Miyano can’t tell if it’s frustration or something else that clouds his expression at that moment, but he does think that it’s already progress compared to before.
“Th-thank you. Let’s head out, if you’re also ready?”
“…Yeah, let’s go.”
The premier proves to be altogether uneventful. Sasaki keeps a respectful distance between the two of them the entire time and due to the nature of the drama they are there to see, the theater is abundant in its silence. The only flitting sounds breaking the quiet come from a handful of overly invested guests’ sniffles. Miyano uses their forced closeness once seated to test his boyfriend’s resolve, pressing the length of their thighs together as he shifts to get more comfortable in his chair. The most this gets him is a quick side-eye, but Sasaki doesn’t move his leg away from the touch. He’s warm and the contact is immensely comforting, Miyano realizes. Some part of him flickers awake, greedy for just a little bit more when he realizes that he does, indeed, desperately miss being touched and held by his boyfriend more sincerely.
A touching reunion crosses the screen and Miyano lets go of the armrest he had previously been gripping in suspense to smooth the palm of his hand down Sasaki’s thigh. He presses the tips of his fingers gently to the area just above the curve of his boyfriend’s knee and does not turn his attention from the movie playing. It’s a grounding action, and he only vaguely processes the stifled noise of distress Sasaki lets out in response.
Miyano kneads his fingers idly where they rest, thumb firmly tracing the inseam of his boyfriend’s pants as he does. It’s only when Sasaki begins to actually squirm a little in his seat that he acknowledges him, hand stilling almost immediately.
Is something wrong? Miyano mouths, not wanting to disturb the other moviegoers by actually speaking in the middle of the showing. Sasaki doesn’t answer him, just shifts around in his seat once more and covers his face with a hand as if embarrassed about something.
Miyano stares for a moment longer, noting the way his boyfriend’s ears turn redder the longer he waits for an answer. Instead of pressuring the man any further, Miyano simply hums and pats Sasaki’s thigh before returning the full of his attention to the movie. He retracts his hand in that same moment, missing the way Sasaki’s own hand hovers where his own had previously laid. He also doesn’t get to see the way his boyfriend looks at him once he lowers his hand from his face.
Like a wild animal, hungry and conflicted.
Sasaki begins to let his guard down after the movie ends, standing closer to Miyano as they walk out of the theater together. They’re practically shoulder to shoulder, and Miyano wonders if he overestimated the amount of effort he would have to put in to dislodge that strange physical distance that had been wedged between them over the past week.
They talk about the movie from the moment they step out of the building to the second they arrive at their restaurant of choice. Miyano spends most of the time gushing about the surprise twist that forced the main character and his love interest to come together after years of only ever seeing each other in passing and never speaking. Sasaki falls in line comfortably with this usual dynamic, listening and nodding encouragingly as Miyano rattles on and on until his boyfriend flushes the cutest pink and insists that he have a chance to give his opinion as well.
Miyano loves the earnest and careful way Sasaki lends to the conversation, and doesn’t think twice about leaning into his space to wrap his arms around Sasaki’s bicep. He tugs him down a little, closer to eye level like this and looks around as if he’s about to divulge the juiciest most mind-blowing secret anyone has ever heard. Instead Miyano just laughs, light and airy and in love and presses his face briefly to his boyfriend’s shoulder.
Sasaki doesn’t realize that he’d forgotten to breathe, but quickly forces himself to remember now. His face is hot and it takes every last bit of his resolve not to wrap his arms around Miyano and just drag him right back into the car and all the way home. An image flickers across his imagination that does nothing to aid his efforts to settle down. When he looks long enough at Miyano he can almost visualize the embarrassment from having to cover up the very visible hickey Sasaki wants to give him.
He quickly shakes the idea back to the furthest recesses of his mind, unsure of how his boyfriend might actually react to such a possessive act of intimacy. Part of him really, really wants to test his luck, test his limits, but the larger more self aware part remembers the incident out of nowhere. The ugly bruise he left on Miyano had caused him more shame than pride, and the nick from the shears across his forearm—
“…ki… -senpai.. Sasa-“ Miyano huffs, twisting his head at a slightly award angle to try and force his boyfriend, who had zoned completely out just a couple minutes ago, to actually look him in the eyes. When that doesn’t actually seem to get his attention, Miyano frowns, and reaches a hand to pinch Sasaki’s hip.
Sharp and sudden, maybe a little cruel too but he pairs the action with a mischievous cooing whisper. “Shuumei-saaan.”
Miyano has to stifle his laugh with the palm of his hand at the way Sasaki seems to choke on his tongue at the sound of his first name just then. There’s something unreadable in his boyfriend’s eyes, but it passes just as quickly as he notices it. Miyano wants to ask, but decides that his refocused attention is enough for now.
“Come on,” He tugs at Sasaki’s arm a little, nodding toward the smiling hostess waiting on them to follow her, “our table is ready. I’m starving.”
Sasaki follows him wordlessly, just a little dazed.
Dinner is where Miyano really begins to push his luck. The two of them are sat in a two person booth across from each other. It’s romantic, really. He would be embarrassed if he were out with anyone else like this, Miyano realizes. Male or female, such soft acts of love and closeness used to make him uneasy. They still do, he thinks, except for where Sasaki is involved. Everything with him is so incredibly easy, it all feels like second nature.
For Miyano, loving Sasaki is like breathing.
Tormenting him with not-so-subtle actions all night is a little more difficult. Miyano is doing his best not to be mean about it, but every time he thinks to shy away from an idea he remembers that Sasaki has cruelly taken it upon himself to be distant over a complete accident. So when he orders his meal from their server, he does so with a bubbly voice and flutter of his lashes. He has been lazily playing footsie with Sasaki under the table the whole time, but stills his legs to instead trap one of his boyfriend’s calves between his ankles.
Sasaki’s fingers twitch at the scene that plays out before him, but his mind is conflicted, stuck between the knowledge that Miyano is actively touching him and the way their waiter definitely just purposely ran his fingers over Miyano’s when he handed over his menu. Miyano doesn’t seem to give the man any more of his attention after that, but Sasaki still feels his skin prickle.
When the server turns to him he’s caught immediately off guard by Sasaki’s menacing aura. The man shrinks in on himself a little as he takes the order, and his hand seems to shake as he retrieves the menu. He says a quick goodbye and promises to return with bread and their appetizers shortly. Sasaki tells him to take his time, and means it.
“You look so spooky with that expression,” Miyano’s voice snaps him out of his dark and brooding thoughts, and his irritated glare softens immediately into adoration for his boyfriend.
“What expression?”
“The one you just had, watching the waiter take my order.” The specification is made with a bit of humor to Miyano’s tone. It’s as cute as it is confusing. Why does he think being flirted with is funny? And why can’t Sasaki feel anything other than how fast his heart beats when Miyano looks only at him.
He wants to take the feeling and bottle it. He wants to take Miyano and tie him down away from the prying eyes of others. He wants to never risk sharing his boyfriend’s cute laugh and genuine smile with anyone else. Sasaki loves Miyano, and he wonders how much of him is his alone.
Is he allowed to want to be this selfish?
“I didn’t like the way he looked at you.” Sasaki admits carefully, moving his hand to lace their fingers together across the table. He watches with rapt attention the way his words and touch immediately turn his boyfriend self conscious.
“H-How was he looking at me? Did I do some-“
“He was looking at you as if I didn’t exist.”
“What? But you’re right here, clearly you exist.” The way Miyano’s brow furrows in confusion is endlessly endearing, Sasaki decides, squeezing his hand gently.
“I love you.” He says after a long stretch of silence in which all they do is stare quietly at one another. Their server comes back before Miyano can respond, but the way he notes their entangled fingers and the brightly burning flush Sasaki has caused with a closed off grumble of defeat soothes whatever unease he had felt earlier.
Sasaki waits until the man leaves them alone again to release Miyano’s hand from his grasp.
“Sasaki...” Miyano sounds breathless, voice small but bold. “I love you too but,” He pauses, fiddling with the butter knife as he reaches for a slice of bread, “were you perhaps, jealous?”
“Huh?”
“Or maybe I’m mistaken,” Miyano busies himself with spreading butter and sets the knife back down as delicately as possible. “If- If you were though I.. I wouldn’t mind.”
Sasaki freezes, caught between two decisions. To defend himself and remain the gentle giant he had trained himself to be, or to admit that maybe, just maybe he thought occasionally of what it might be to simply... Not.
“It’s just that, you go out of your way to think about how I’ll respond to what you do. And are extra careful around me.” Miyano notices distantly that he’s beginning to ramble, but he’s not sure when else he could possibly bring this up. “Like with that one incident a week ago where you,” He watches the way Sasaki tenses and shifts further back in his seat, but doesn’t let him pull his leg away from him under the table. “You hardly looked at me for the next few days, and until today you hadn’t really touched me either.” There’s a stressed lilt to his tone as he continues, bread forgotten on the plate in front of him as he stares at his hands. “I was worried I had done something to upset you.” He finally admits.
The silence that builds between them then is suffocating. It lasts long enough that Miyano begins to regret divulging any sort of concern over this whole situation at all. But as soon as he opens his mouth to try and shove the issue to the side, say nevermind and revert back to their previous cutesy banter, Sasaki speaks.
“I’m sorry.” It comes out more sudden than it should, and even feels a little out of place, but he’s nervous. What else is there to do but embarrass himself just a little. A small price to pay for Miyano’s peace of mind, he decides.
“It’s not you. I just don’t know what I would do if I hurt you for real. I don’t think I could handle you hating me forever if I did.” I don’t want to be rough with the person I love. But he desperately wants permission to do so anyway. Sasaki doesn’t dare speak that part aloud though, no matter how much his imagination wanders without his permission.
“What if.. I wanted that.”
“What?”
Miyano is bright red, staring straight down at the table.
“I said, what if I wanted you to…” He doesn’t know how to finish the sentence without embarrassing himself.
“You want me to hurt you?”
“No! No, I meant. I mean that I maybe.. wouldn’t mind..” Miyano stops to rake a hand through his hair, lifting his gaze but determined to look anywhere but at Sasaki. “I’ve told you before, I’m a guy so it’s not that easy to actually hurt me. And.. I.. I think I wouldn’t be upset if you—“
“Were rougher with you?” Miyano jolts a little at the drop in tone of Sasaki's voice. Somehow, answering him seems impossible. He can feel a fluttering sensation just behind his ribs and his spine tingles with electricity at the familiar caress of Sasaki’s hand cupping his cheek.
Instead of just resting it there, though, his boyfriend shifts to grip his jaw and forces Miyano to look at him. His reaction is instant, body hot and embarrassed, but not intimidated in the least. Sasaki would never hurt him, but being this forward in public is almost too much.
“Look at me.” It wasn’t a request, and Miyano hadn’t even realized that he had shut his eyes. When he opens them he is met with proof that Sasaki feels very much the same way he does about all of this. He looks hungry, and not for the food that is rapidly approaching their table now.
Sasaki releases him as their server wanders up to the table to deliver their dishes. Miyano thinks he might be sweating a little, and for the first time this evening he is the one that is made to squirm in his seat, caught off guard.
The rest of their dinner passes quickly, not in complete silence, but it feels like he’s wading through waist deep sludge the entire time. His limbs feel pleasantly heavy and he is hyper aware of the way their legs brush each other beneath the table. Sasaki keeps his hands mostly to himself, only reaching across once or twice to offer Miyano some of his own food, which he gleefully accepts both times.
They are asked at the end about dessert, and offered a decent variety of options, but Sasaki waves them all away and offers his card for the bill instead.
“Thank you but he doesn’t like sweets, and I think I’ll be having my dessert at home.” The server almost drops the little handheld that he’s swiping Sasaki’s card through at that, and quickly scurries from the table, ears red, after returning the card to him.
“Sasaki.” Miyano tries to scold him, but his boyfriend is too busy dragging them both out of the restaurant to really hear him.
The cool metal of the car probably creases the back of his vest and shirt with the force Sasaki puts into pinning him against it. His lips are dry from the cool night air, but he tastes like honey and isn’t that a little strange considering they hadn’t had any dessert yet?
Miyano’s lips are soft, and kissing him is like living out the best part of every dream he’s ever had. When he moans Sasaki sneaks his tongue into the fray, licking and biting and groaning when Miyano just gives and gives so that he can take as much as he wants.
“We... should get home first,” Miyano manages between long stretches of breathless kisses. He gets a sharp bite just under his jaw in response, but Sasaki still manages to pry himself away. He looks debauched, which means Miyano can’t possibly look any better. “Come on, I thought you wanted me all to yourself.”
That line gets the gears turning in Sasaki’s head proper, and he reluctantly detaches himself from Miyano after one last deceivingly chaste kiss. “You’re lucky you’re right.” His breath ghosts along the shell of his ear and Miyano shivers in anticipation before sliding into the car finally.
The next twenty minutes back to their shared apartment is perhaps the longest twenty minutes of Miyano’s life. But they make it in one piece. How they stumble through the parking lot and up the stairs is beyond him, but as soon as the door clicks shut Miyano finds himself shoved against the wall of their living area. Sasaki's lips are on his again, and Miyano can't help but gasp and melt into the kiss, letting his boyfriend do most of the work to keep him in place.
“Is this alright?”
He laughs at the question, breathless and a little out of it and wonders briefly how many times he’s going to hear him ask that tonight. Despite the heat in his eyes, there’s that ever present sense of concern in everything Sasaki does. Miyano can't help how fond his smile is when he looks at him now.
He has never felt safer, he thinks.
“Of course. Please, Sasaki, I want..” The grip on his hips tightens and he groans at the feeling of Sasaki slipping his thigh between his legs as he’s crowded even further up against the wall. There are lips on his neck now, baring teeth and tongue to terrorize the skin there. Miyano wants to be completely covered by Sasaki, he realizes, stifling the pathetic noises he makes in response to his boyfriend’s hands sneaking under his shirt. He wants to be surrounded and completely at his mercy, wants Sasaki to take without restraint like they both so desperately need.
His shirt slides off his shoulders and to the floor, vest long since discarded and tossed aside. Miyano thinks he should be embarrassed at the way his legs shake when Sasaki grinds his thigh steadily between them, but he isn’t. His hands slide up Sasaki’s chest, one digging its fingers into the meat of his shoulder while the other cards through soft orange locks. He rolls his hips down to meet the friction of the leg against him and moans shakily when his shallow panting is cut off by the press of those sweet lips.
Distantly, Miyano wonders if they remembered to lock the door behind them. They had been so focused on each other that they hadn’t even made it past the living room, let alone thought about more than peeling off their clothes so that they could get their hands on each other. Sasaki was currently making every substantial decision from here on out in an effortless attempt to turn Miyano to putty in his hands.
As if he weren’t already.
"Turn around.” The hands at his sides shift to hold him more securely, leaving him no say in the matter as he is quickly manhandled to face the wall. Sasaki tugs at his hips and he slides down a bit until his boyfriend seems satisfied with how he’s positioned. Miyano doesn’t get the chance to object to the new arrangement before Sasaki is looming over him again, nosing at the nape of his neck to press a light kiss there. His hands are busy quickly divesting Miyano of his belt, letting it clatter to the floor before flicking the button open on his jeans and dipping his fingers past the open waistband.
“Wait—” Miyano gasps at the feel of cold fingers over his abdomen, shudders at the way they press against the flesh just above his groin. He can feel himself respond instantly to the lightest hint of fingertips teasing their way down, as if the way Sasaki mouths at the curve of his jaw wasn’t maddening enough on its own.
One of his hands slips down from the wall to cover Sasaki’s own, and is immediately pried away and placed back where it was.
“Stay.” This one is an order he can choose to ignore, but the way the word ghosts across the shell of his ear makes him feel helpless to do anything but obey. Miyano closes his hands into fists and turns to press his cheek against the wall, on edge and aching for… something. He’s not quite sure what it is, but thinks that maybe Sasaki knows. That he will take care of it all for him.
And take care he does, leaving slowly darkening marks along Miyano’s shoulders as his hands break the tension with touch. The fingers of one hand tease their way around Miyano’s cock, thumb pressing cruelly into the leaking head before dragging down and beginning to stroke him. His other hand is splayed across Miyano’s inner thigh, a constant pressure keeping his legs spread just so.
“You’re so cute like this. Look,” He hears the teasing words over his pitiful whimper only because of how much of Sasaki is pressed flush against him. He's so close it's overwhelming. Every time his boyfriend speaks it’s with his lips against his ear or jaw making the words impossible to ignore.
Miyano whines at a particularly languid twist of Sasaki’s hand, a little too light to do more than make him want to beg, and opens his eyes slowly. He doesn’t know when he’d closed them to begin with, but the sight that greets him as he adjusts his weight against the wall is more lewd than ‘cute’. His thighs are visibly damp with the amount of precum he’s leaked, Sasaki’s hands no doubt fairing similarly as they work him back into a state of mindlessness in which Miyano only vaguely registers rutting his hips back against him.
“Ple-ah-se, S-Sasa—!” Miyano's legs shake with the effort of holding himself still against the wall, he teeters on the edge of climax and feels tears prickle at the corner of his eyes as Sasaki retracts his hands and leaves him there. His pulse rockets, chest heaving, and he whines broken and pathetic before slumping gracelessly against the wall. He is so hard and was so close if Sasaki would just—
Miyano jumps at the cold trickle of something over the swell of his ass, and if possible he feels his face flush even darker when he realizes what it is. He hadn’t even heard the click of a cap, but now Sasaki has his hand on his cheek, thumb spreading him apart while the other hand squeezes what feels like and excessive amount of lube down the crack of his ass. It’s freezing compared to how hot his body is right then, but quickly warms as it trails down and across his balls. There's enough that he can feel it drip off of him.
Just how much had he poured out?
“You’re so wet, just for me.” Sasaki sounds dazed, distracted, and emphasizes his observation by gently pressing a finger to Miyano’s hole, groaning at the easy way it slides in with all the lubricant aiding him. He sinks it in slowly, free hand rubbing soothing circles at Miyano’s hip. The seconds drag by like molasses, but quicker than he realizes it, Sasaki has three fingers inside him, curling lightly against his prostate as they spread him open.
Every time Miyano thinks that he’s reached his limit, Sasaki pulls away and lets him hang onto the edge of not enough, trailing light open-mouthed kisses along his spine. He thinks he hears himself sob in relief when Sasaki finally lines himself up and begins to push inside of him. Unlike before, with his hands and fingers, there is no careful calculation. Sasaki isn’t in any rush suddenly to get this over with, but his sense of pace seems to have faltered in the time it takes him to fully seat himself inside of Miyano.
With their hips flush together, Sasaki runs his hands over every inch of Miyano that he can reach from this angle. Thighs, stomach, chest, arms; he presses his forehead between Miyano’s shoulder blades and lets his hands settle on his waist as he pulls almost all the way out just to snap his hips forward again.
Each thrust is a long drag out, the forward motion punching the air out of Miyano bit by bit. It’s delicious, but Miyano can’t help but feel like it isn’t quite right. He wants more, shifts his stance just a little wider, hips angled just so and—
Sasaki’s next thrust slides just a little deeper, presses the head of his cock right up against his prostate and, oh, the sound he makes is absolutely filthy.
“Y-ehhsss.” His fingers scrabble weakly against the wall at the way Sasaki responds, following the unspoken adjustments to the T and picking up his pace. Miyano’s whole body shifts with each thrust now, cock neglected and red between his legs, but he can’t help but love every second of it. The hands at his sides are bruising, his legs shaking from the effort of trying to meet every rough slide of Sasaki’s cock inside him with a frantic, needy roll of his hips.
“Myaa-chan,” Sasaki’s voice is hot in his ear, low and ragged and tempting. The way he says his much-adored nickname has to be against some law somewhere, but he does it again and again, mutters it thoughtlessly between each breath until Miyano finds the strength to turn his head and shut him up with a kiss. It’s sloppy and sudden, all teeth and tongue and gasping breath; there’s nothing romantic about it at all. But it’s enough.
There’s a hand around his cock again, finally, and Miyano accidentally bites Sasaki’s lip at a certain twist of his wrist. He thinks he tastes blood on his tongue as they part, but can’t focus on anything other than how full he is and the ever present feeling of being overwhelmed, covered by Sasaki in this moment. Their rhythm begins to falter and his vision blurs with tears as Sasaki’s other hand slides up and under his jaw, thumb pressing firmly against his airway, silently asking.
He’s always asking.
Miyano doesn’t know how to say yes like this, definitely doesn’t want to say no, so he just gasps and stills. The first real pressure on his throat is really all it takes to send him tumbling over the edge of climax, body seizing and shaking as he paints the wall with his cum, the last few shots streaking down Sasaki’s fingers. He feels sticky and hot and sweaty and so good.
Sasaki is still inside of him, no longer moving in long, sharp thrusts but grinding up into him instead. He is hyper aware of the way his cock fits inside of him, rubbing him into oversensitivity before stilling completely as Sasaki finishes.
“I love you.”
One of them says it, but he’s not sure which. The feel of Sasaki’s cum dripping out to join the mess of sweat and lube down his thighs is kind of disgusting once the afterglow has faded and Miyano grimaces as he pulls out. They separate slowly, shifting to face each other so that they can share a real, softer kiss this time. Sasaki’s lip is bleeding a little, and Miyano can’t help but laugh as he apologizes.
Through a very labored and combined effort, they stumble into the bedroom of their apartment finally. Sasaki disappears into the bathroom for a few minutes only to return in a pair of loose pyjama bottoms and with a warm, damp towel in his hands.
“Thank you.” Miyano says, smiling fondly at the way Sasaki goes about wiping him down. Once he feels reasonably less filthy, the towel is tossed into a hamper and they find themselves with their limbs tangled atop the bed. Closer, never close enough.
It’s after they’ve managed to drag the sheets up and over them, Miyano with his face tucked up under Sasaki’s chin, that the pleasant quiet between them breaks.
“I’m sorry.” Sasaki’s voice is soft, a whisper of a thing though still a bit scratchy from earlier. He has a hand in Miyano’s hair, playing with the ends where they curl around his ears. It’s such a soft action that Miyano can’t help the way his heart flutters.
“Don’t be.” He reassures his boyfriend, fingers tracing lazy and endless designs across his back where he cannot see. “You more than made up for this entire week today alone.” He chuckles warmly, closing his eyes and worming his way even closer, wondering briefly if it’s actually him who acts as though he wants to live in Sasaki’s skin.
“Honestly if all I had to do to get you to let go a bit was be a brat—” Sasaki can’t see but can hear the little grin forming as he speaks, “I would have tried that ages ago.”
“Wait, what?”
“You know, the egregious touching and flirting and pretending I wasn’t.”
“That— you were doing that all on purpose?”
“Yeah?”
“You.. oh my god.”
Sasaki sounds mortified and Miyano can’t help but snort before admitting further: “I may have pulled a couple ideas from BL.”
That has his boyfriend shifting back so as to better scrutinize him, and Miyano has to avert his eyes almost immediately after opening them. He’s not ashamed, per se, but he can definitely tell that he might be a little bit in trouble.
“But it worked! You can’t be upset with me if it works.”
Sasaki just sighs, more fond than exasperated, and drags the covers up over Miyano’s head so he doesn’t have to look into that earnest, playful gaze any longer.
"You're going to regret giving me all this power."
Miyano’s resulting laughter is muffled, but he grabs one of Sasaki’s hands and drags it under the blankets with him. “No I won't.” He whispers, turning to press a kiss to Sasaki’s palm. "I trust you wouldn't abuse it." It's a tender admission, and he pokes his head out from under the covers to find Sasaki is blushing. Cute.
"I love you." They say it at the same time and pause, staring, unreasonably obsessed with each other. Another languid kiss and Miyano can't help but think that the night couldn't have gone any better.