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It had taken a lot of persuasion before Dokuga could share a bed with Tetsujo.
At first, he simply refused. Too dangerous, he’d said, and reminded Tetsujo of the house in Berith where he’d slept in the bathtub.
We don’t have a bathtub now, Tetsujo had pointed out. And you didn’t mind when we were on the streets.
Dokuga had shivered and protested that that was different. When they were trying to survive on the streets of Hole they’d had to huddle for warmth at night, the way they did when they were kids. And like he did when he was a kid, Dokuga had pulled the collar of his hoodie up over his mouth, just in case, and he’d made sure to face away from Tetsujo.
Now they did have an apartment, but the tiny one-room place only came with a narrow single bed. Dokuga had wanted to sleep on the floor. Tetsujo had wanted them both to sleep in the bed.
Eventually, he’d won – if only for practical reasons. Neither of them could afford to be tired when they’d pinned all their hopes on these new jobs with Nikaido at her restaurant, which meant that they both needed to sleep well each night. That meant the bed. Dokuga started by sleeping fully clothed each night, pulling his collar up the way he used to do, but he got too hot like that. Then he tried it with his t-shirt, but one night it must have slipped down, and nothing bad had happened, so Tetsujo insisted that the only precaution he really needed to take was to make sure to face away from him.
Dokuga had relented. In the new lives that they lived now, he was forever finding himself wanting to relent to Tetsujo. He owed him that much, after his decision making had led their friends to their doom.
More than a year had passed since their deaths, but it still hurt as much as it had in those first days, when Dokuga had been wounded and silently hoping that fever and sickness would take him as well. Never out loud, though, because that would have broken Tetsujo’s heart.
“Are you still awake?” Tetsujo murmured sleepily from behind him. His bare leg brushed Dokuga’s and the mattress creaked as he rolled onto his side.
Dokuga shuddered at his touch. It was something he was still getting used to; on the streets, they’d both slept in their clothes. Here, though, Tetsujo slept in his underwear, and Dokuga in his underwear and a t-shirt, in case he needed to pull it up over his mouth. In a narrow bed like this, he often felt the warmth of Tetsujo’s skin, the sort of warmth he’d never really known before.
“Mhm,” he hummed. A strip of city light shone through a gap in the tattered curtains, casting the apartment in a dim orange glow.
Tetsujo put a hand on Dokuga’s shoulder and patted it. “You’re overthinking.”
“Mhm,” Dokuga hummed again. He was always overthinking. Going to bed meant being comfortable, which reminded him of all those years of discomfort, those years spent with Ton and Saji and Ushishimada. Didn’t they deserve the life that Dokuga and Tetsujo were living now? Didn’t they all deserve good jobs and a nice place to live?
“Dokuga,” Tetsujo sighed. “It won’t change anything.”
“I know,” Dokuga said softly. Still, it wouldn’t stop him thinking about it. His friends wouldn’t have died if it wasn’t for him, if it wasn’t for his blind, childish trust in the boss. In Kai. So maybe not being able to put it out of his mind was his curse to bear. Better than forgetting.
Natsuki, he thought. Ton, Saji, Ushishimada.
“They’d be happy for us,” said Tetsujo.
“I know that, too,” Dokuga said, as if it didn’t make his heart ache that all they’d wanted was a place they could belong, and he and Tetsujo were the only ones who got to enjoy it. They wouldn’t be angry with him, if they were still here, and nor would their ghosts be angry, if there was such a thing as ghosts. That made it hurt. He wanted to feel their anger. He wanted their hate, because he deserved it.
“Sleep, Dokuga,” groaned Tetsujo, flopping onto his back again and making the mattress squeak.
“I’m trying.”
Tetsujo seemed to fall asleep then, or at least doze off. He went silent and his breathing slowed. Dokuga didn’t dare roll over to look, because in bed he kept himself on his side, face resting on the thick square of fabric he lay over his side of the pillow each night and washed each morning. Just in case.
He closed his eyes. Tried to sleep. Failed. Dokuga sighed and blinked in the darkness. The light shining through the curtains grew brighter for a moment as a car passed by outside, then faded back to orange. Somewhere in the apartment building he heard the slam of a door. Noises of the city. Berith had been so quiet, but the bathtub had never been comfortable. Tetsujo had shared a room with Ton back then, each of them claiming a rickety wooden bed. When they’d first moved in, Tetsujo had told Dokuga to take one, but he’d refused.
In his sleep, Tetsujo sighed, then snorted. A smile tugged at Dokuga’s lips. Was that trust, that he could sleep so deeply when Dokuga’s poison was so deadly?
Yes, he thought. Tetsujo had always trusted him. Guilt clawed at his bones and Dokuga winced. Look at where trust in him had led. To this, with the two of them, when it should have been all of them.
He was going around in circles. Dokuga knew that he was, but he couldn’t help himself. Another car went by outside and he closed his eyes, trying to force himself to sleep so that he wouldn’t be tired at work in the morning.
In the bathroom, the faucet dripped.
Dokuga breathed in and out. Sleep wasn’t coming. He wished he could toss and turn but he didn’t want to wake Tetsujo. If they had a bathtub he would have slept in it. Strangely, he didn’t have trouble sleeping when they’d been living on the streets of Hole. He did at first, but once he’d pushed down the worries about accidentally poisoning Tetsujo, he was out like a light as soon as he closed his eyes. Maybe it was because he was so weak from his injuries, or maybe it was because shivering on the cold concrete felt like some kind of penance.
Tetsujo huffed beside him. “Dokuga,” he groaned. “I can feel you thinking.”
“You can’t.”
“I can.” Yet another creak of the mattress, and Tetsujo had rolled onto his side again. “I can’t sleep when you’re like this.”
“Then I’ll go sit by the window for a while,” said Dokuga. “At least then you’ll—”
He was cut off, because as he made to get out of bed Tetsujo’s arm came around him, clamping over his chest, pulling him against him, and Dokuga was so surprised that he let out a yelp.
Tetsujo snickered. “No, you’ll stay up all night if you do that,” he said. “Maybe you’ll sleep better this way.”
His bare chest was pressed against Dokuga’s spine, the warmth of his skin radiating through Dokuga’s thin t-shirt. His legs were bent slightly and their thighs were touching. Dokuga was used to the occasional brush of a limb; not this. This was a closeness he’d never known, not even on the nights on the street, since they’d been fully dressed then. Though, he had to admit that it was comforting. Tetsujo’s breath was hot on the back of his neck, and his hand was resting just over Dokuga’s heart.
It was nice.
Dokuga sighed and closed his eyes, slowing his breathing, determined that he would get to sleep. He thought that he stood a better chance of it in Tetsujo’s arms.
Hours later, Dokuga’s eyes fluttered open. It was still nighttime; outside, the sky was dark. He’d slept so well and so deeply it was as if he’d only blinked, but he wasn’t sure why he’d woken. Tetsujo’s arm was still around him, holding him tight, and Dokuga realised that he’d wriggled back a little, pressing himself right up against him.
Never mind, he thought. He would just go back to sleep. Dokuga yawned and closed his eyes, and as he began to doze off he wriggled again, and he felt something, and he realised what had woken him.
It was Tetsujo. He’d gotten hard in his sleep.
Dokuga’s eyes snapped open. His breathing was still slow; he definitely was still asleep. It was Dokuga’s wriggling that had done it, he assumed. Squirming against him like that. Dokuga bit back a groan.
He knew what he was supposed to do. What a normal thing to do in this situation would be. The normal thing to do would be to gently ease Tetsujo’s arm off him and roll him onto his back, then onto his other side, facing the wall, and to shuffle to the very edge of the bed and put some space in between them. And of course, to never mention it.
Dokuga didn’t do that, though.
What he did was this; he moved his foot back, and let it brush over Tetsujo’s bare shin, and he wriggled again, this time slower and more deliberately, his breath catching in his throat as he felt Tetsujo’s cock rub against his ass.
What are you doing? He bit his lip. This was a terrible idea. His and Tetsujo’s friendship was the most solid, reliable thing he’d ever known. What if doing this ruined it? Tetsujo was asleep, and he probably didn’t even want Dokuga that way, it was just a natural reaction to their closeness, and yet—
And yet Dokuga did want this.
It wasn’t only the closeness that he wanted. More than anything, he wanted to give himself to Tetsujo completely. He didn’t know if this was something that had been lingering in the back of his mind since those long nights on the street or if it had only sparked to life now in this moment, but feeling the warm weight of Tetsujo’s arm wrapped around him and the pressure of his dick against his ass made it shine in his mind as clear as day. Dokuga wanted Tetsujo. In his life, forever, and in every way that one person could want another. That gnawing guilt came back; It took you this long, Dokuga?
He squeezed his eyes shut. Yes, it took him this long. Dokuga never had been all that good at seeing what was right in front of him.
“Mm,” Tetsujo murmured sleepily. “Dokuga?”
Dokuga stopped moving. What the fuck was he playing at?
“You’re awake?” said Tetsujo, yawning.
Lifting his hand, Dokuga put it over Tetsujo’s. “I’m awake,” he whispered, waiting for Tetsujo to realise. Waiting to see what he would do.
“What woke—oh. Oh, shit, Dokuga—”
“It’s okay,” Dokuga said quickly.
“It—it is?”
Dokuga let go of his hand, so that he could pull away if he wanted to. “Yes,” he said. “It’s—it’s nice.”
“Nice?” Tetsujo’s voice was low and thick with sleep, and his hold on Dokuga tightened, just a little. Just enough for him to know.
“Maybe more than nice,” said Dokuga. His heart was racing, and he wondered if Tetsujo would be able to feel it. “Is it—uh, do you think it’s okay?”
In answer, Tetsujo’s hand slid downwards to the hem of Dokuga’s t-shirt and up inside it, over his stomach to his chest to rest over his heart again. His thumb brushed Dokuga’s nipple and Dokuga’s breath caught in his throat. The mattress creaked again and Dokuga felt something new; the press of lips on the back of his head.
Tetsujo kissed him. A gentle kiss, nothing more than the briefest of things, but it sent a jolt of electricity up his spine, and he felt warmth flare in the pit of his stomach.
“You have to ask that?” he whispered, his hand sliding down again, back over Dokuga’s abs to the waistband of his underwear. He ran the tip of a finger over it and Dokuga couldn’t help but move against him again, rubbing his cock with his ass.
“I didn’t know,” he said.
He heard rather than saw the smile on Tetsujo’s face. “Of course you didn’t,” he said with a laugh. “Well, you know now.”
Dokuga smiled. “Yes, I do.”
Tetsujo kissed him again, this time on the side of the neck, and his hand slipped into Dokuga’s underwear. Almost immediately, Dokuga’s cock began to stiffen. Nobody had ever touched him like this, and it was the sort of thing he had never allowed himself the luxury of fantasising about.
“How does that feel?” Tetsujo murmured, taking hold of his cock and giving it a slow stroke.
Dokuga squirmed inadvertently, hips twitching forwards into Tetsujo’s hand. “Mhm,” he grunted, and as Tetsujo’s thumb brushed over the sensitive head of his dick he gasped. “Ah—Tetsujo, it—it’s good.”
“Good?” Tetsujo’s voice hummed against his skin. He stroked him again, grip tightening, tongue flicking over Dokuga’s ear.
“Good,” Dokuga echoed. His heart was fluttering and there was a twinge deep in his gut. His hips twitched again, and he wanted—
He didn’t know what he wanted. He wanted Tetsujo.
Without thinking about what he was doing, Dokuga reached down and tugged at his underwear, yanking them over his hard cock in Tetsujo’s hand, pushing them down until he could kick them off.
“Tetsujo,” he said in a breathy voice. “I—I want you.”
Maybe it was easier to say it when he wasn’t looking at him. Maybe it was easier to say in darkness, with nothing but the faint orange glow from the streetlights outside shining in. Tetsujo’s exhale ruffled his hair and he kissed him again, this time longer and slower, touching his skin with the tip of his tongue. He was still stroking his cock, his hand moving up and down, thumb spreading the pre-come beading at the tip. Dokuga moaned.
“You sure?” Tetsujo said.
“Mhm.”
He let go of him and Dokuga gasped again. He was shocked by how much he wanted this, how the thought of Tetsujo in him had swelled to such an enormous thing in his mind that he could think of nothing else. He lifted his head and glanced back at Tetsujo to see what he was doing, meeting his eye, so deep and dark in the shadow of the apartment that it seemed almost black. There was a slight flush over his cheeks, Dokuga could see, and his hair was sticking up all over the place. He grinned awkwardly at Dokuga, then stuck his fingers in his mouth.
Oh, thought Dokuga. He knew what Tetsujo was doing. He nodded and rested his head back on the pillow. They couldn’t risk being face to face; not ever, but especially not now, when he didn’t know if he would be able to control himself. He almost wished he had a surgical mask he could wear, but he didn’t want to interrupt the moment, to hunt around the apartment for one.
And it didn’t seem like Tetsujo would want this to be interrupted, either. His lips found Dokuga’s neck again and he reached down, gently nudging Dokuga’s thigh with a knee to get him to move it forward, parting his legs as he reached between them and into the cleft of his ass.
Dokuga sucked in a breath. The tip of Tetsujo’s finger was pressed against his hole, wet with spit, circling slowly. He forced himself to breathe out, to relax.
“Okay?” Tetsujo said.
“Yeah,” Dokuga whispered.
Slowly, Tetsujo eased his finger into him. It was a strange sensation, one that he’d never experienced before, and he had to concentrate to keep his breathing steady. In his chest, his heart was like a fluttering moth, and he could feel the warmth in his flushed cheeks as Tetsujo’s finger slid all the way in. He kept still, for a moment, then he curved his finger downwards and all of a sudden the sensation wasn’t strange, it was electric. Dokuga moaned and Tetsujo did it again, and again, kissing him as he did, and Dokuga clutched at the bedsheets as he got a second finger into him as well. Carefully, gently, he worked him open, stretching him wide until he had a third finger in as well and he was nipping at the side of Dokuga’s neck as he gasped and moaned.
Then, Tetsujo pulled his fingers out, and the absence of him was so palpable to Dokuga that he let out a whimper. I need you, he thought. He had always needed Tetsujo.
“You okay?” Tetsujo asked, his voice soft.
“Yes,” Dokuga said shakily. “You don’t have to keep asking.”
“Yeah, I do.” Tetsujo kissed the back of his head, then brought his hand to his mouth and spat in it.
Dokuga winced. It wasn’t the most elegant solution, but it would do. He gripped the sheets tighter as Tetsujo yanked down his underwear and took hold of his cock, guiding himself to press up against him.
“I’ll go slow,” he said.
Nodding, Dokuga focused on his breathing. In and out, in and out. Tetsujo pushed into him and it was both like his fingers and nothing liked it. It was so much more. Dokuga clutched at the sheets and gasped as Tetsujo eased his dick inside him, inch by inch, until it was all the way in and Tetsujo’s warm skin was pressed against him. He wrapped his arm around him, slipping it up inside his shirt, and held him close.
The bed creaked as he began to move. Out, slowly, and back in, and Dokuga gasped. Yes, it was definitely better than his fingers alone. Tetsujo’s cock hit deep inside him and sent a flare of warmth rippling through his body, and as he began to move faster, Dokuga had to turn his head and bury it in the pillow to stifle himself. Tetsujo kept a tight hold on him as he fucked him, his chest pressed to Dokuga’s back as he slammed into him, filling their small apartment with the squeaking of the mattress and the heavy slap of flesh against flesh.
“Tetsujo,” Dokuga murmured, muffled by the pillow. “Tetsujo—”
Tetsujo was making noises as well; he panted with every thrust and grunted when Dokuga clenched his ass around his cock. He moaned and gasped as Dokuga did, and he put his lips to his neck so Dokuga could feel it against his skin.
And that warmth. It was pure heat now, roiling in the pit of Dokuga’s stomach. He was so hard he couldn’t stand it. Some instinct made him push back against Tetsujo as his cock sank into him, hips moving of their own accord, pre-come leaking from the tip of his cock and leaving a damp patch on the sheet. Tetsujo’s hand slid down and he took hold of him, not stroking him with teasing, purposeful movements now but jerking him off as he fucked him, hand moving in time with his thrusts. Dokuga’s moans were long and low, pleasure building in him with every touch and every snap of Tetsujo’s hips. It came upon him all of a sudden, Tetsujo moving faster and faster – tighter and harder – until Dokuga came with a cry. He squeezed his eyes shut and Tetsujo pulled him against him again, still fucking him hard as waves of pleasure coursed through Dokuga and made him feel like he was floating.
Like the flying carpet, he thought, absurdly.
Tetsujo propped himself up slightly, leaning on one elbow so he could get a better angle and fucking him hard until he came as well, and when he did he clutched Dokuga tight and buried his face in his hair.
“Dokuga,” he whispered.
“Mm,” hummed Dokuga, still with his face pressed to the pillow. He could feel a heartbeat thumping away, and he didn’t know if it was Tetsujo’s or his own.
Or maybe it was both of their hearts, beating in time.
Dokuga easily could have fallen asleep like that – easily, when he never fell asleep easily – but Tetsujo pulled out of him and sat up, then stroked his hair and told him they should clean themselves off before they went to sleep. He clambered over Dokuga and grabbed a towel from the bathroom, finally turning off that dripping faucet, and when he came back he gently wiped the sweat and the come from Dokuga’s skin.
They had to change the sheets. That was annoying, but necessary. Dokuga stripped down the bed and threw the pillow on the floor to be washed later, and he folded up his hoodie for them to use as a pillow instead. He didn’t want to risk the poison.
Tetsujo’s arms went around him automatically when they lay down again, and for once, Dokuga didn’t find himself overthinking. Tetsujo knew what had happened; he had been there every step of the way as their lives went wrong. He had seen every mistake that Dokuga had made, and he chose to stay by his side anyway. When Dokuga chose to give him everything, Tetsujo had given him everything of his own in return.
He trusted Tetsujo, more now than he’d ever trusted Kai. So, he had to trust that his friends would be happy for them. It was harder than just simply deciding to let go of his guilt, but all he could do was try.
Tetsujo squeezed him, and Dokuga smiled; it was easier when they were together.