Chapter Text
It took Azuma some time to come to terms with what had happened when Tasuku had accompanied him to his old family home. Right there, in the room that had sheltered his childhood; the room he had shared with his brother...
After finding the decorative comb, Tasuku had fixed it into Azuma's hair, even as the tears flowed.
"How does it look?" Azuma had eventually asked.
"Beautiful," said Tasuku. He lifted his hand and threaded his fingers into loosely bound silver hair, his thumb caressing Azuma's cheek. "You look beautiful."
What happened next had Azuma rife with guilt and confusion, because Tasuku had kissed him, and despite having little more than a passing interest in the brawny man, Azuma had accepted the advance and kissed him back. Things escalated fast from there.
Tasuku wasn't one for talking, and Azuma was in no state to think straight. He was flooded with painful memories, the comb clawing open old wounds like tracks in his hair. He made no move to resist as Tasuku stripped him and bent him over the very dresser behind which the comb had been found concealed.
As Tasuku took him, Azuma's thoughts churned toward the brother he had loved. He fought the strange blending of childish adoration and the fury of lust in which he was embroiled. He had never seen his brother that way. He'd been too young and innocent even to think of it. That innocence was a lifetime away.
Tasuku was similar to his brother, he supposed. There was that same manly aura that contrasted Azuma's more delicate identity. Moreover, Azuma had never felt any sexual tension between them before—at least, not offstage. Yet he let it happen. He wanted it to happen. He clung to the rough, primal sex to drown out the emotional memories, but it didn't quite work out that way. Instead, there was an awkward blending that left him feeling lost when all was said and done.
When he later approached Tasuku to ask about the sudden, aggressive advance, the answer stumped him.
"I slipped into a role," Tasuku explained. "At the time, it felt right. It felt like what you needed."
Tasuku was a natural at reading people, even if, unlike Tsumugi, he rarely understood the psychology behind the actions or responses he was prompted to. He assured Azuma that he had no lingering designs and what had happened between them was just as spontaneous for him.
"I hope I didn't go too far," he finished. "The last thing I intended was to hurt you."
Hurt? Azuma wasn't hurt, only confused. The memory of that night burned bright in his thoughts, like a bonfire amid an open field strewn with fireflies. He thought about it all the time, and yet he still couldn't determine how he should feel about it.
Tasuku wasn't his brother. They hadn't done anything wrong. Even so, a nameless guilt ate away at Azuma. He felt as if his actions had desecrated that room which now felt like a shrine to his brother's memory. Perhaps that analysis was more accurate than not. Now, instead of remembering his peaceful childhood and doting sibling in that room, he was doomed to associate the bare walls and empty spaces with rough, carnal pleasure.
At last, it clicked. Azuma deserved his guilt. He had wanted to forget the painful tug of his idealistic past. He had wanted to forget the comforting love of the brother he had held dear. He had wanted to replace it all with something that would hurt less.
When Tasuku had kissed him, he had welcomed it with a fierce hunger he barely recognized. It was relief.
He wasn't confusing lustful urges shared with Tasuku with the relationship he had shared with his brother. No. He was overshadowing his brother's memory, glowing subtly and gently like a firefly, with the roaring flare of a bonfire event.
He was despicable.
*
People tended to disregard Hisoka. His penchant for napping among the scenery often rendered him essentially invisible, even when wide awake. As a result, people tended to drop their guards around him, occasionally revealing thoughts and expressions that weren't meant for anyone's eyes.
That was how he came to recognize the gnawing decay of depression that was quietly eating away at Azuma. Signs of it leaked out when he thought no one was looking.
It started with subtle, subconscious sighs and progressed to grimaces, and eventually, noises of aggression or frustration. He looked tired, and would often cradle his head and close his eyes, feigning only a momentary pause to rub his face as soon as he heard someone approach. Once, Hisoka even caught him dissolving into tears, and that time, when Tasuku walked into the room, Azuma fell still and pretended to be sleeping. The second Tasuku was gone, he looked up, bleary-eyed, and let out a solitary howl of distress that would have shocked Hisoka awake, had he not been spying already.
It broke Hisoka's heart to see Azuma this way. There had always been a faint aura of sadness about the soft-spoken, delicate man, but this was a grim and ugly kind of pain that hurt Hisoka in turn.
After that howl, he could no longer feign a blind eye. He sat up and reached for Azuma's hand, squeezing it gently.
Azuma froze, an expression of horror marring his looks, but Hisoka wasn't deterred. He hugged the crying man, squeezing tightly enough to imprint his good intentions.
"Cry," he said. "Don't hide it. Just cry."
Azuma did exactly that, burying his face in Hisoka's shoulder and sobbing hard for an impossible length of time. Hisoka might have napped during the embrace, he couldn't say, but at some point, he drowsily blinked his eyes open to see Sakyo in the doorway. The yakuza was emanating concern, but he hesitated, before turning and leaving.
Hisoka knew all about the quiet fling between the two oldest players. Of course, it was more widely known than either of them probably suspected. However, Sakyo's reaction to finding Azuma crying in Hisoka's arms told the clever young man all he needed to know. Sakyo was concerned, but not so much that he couldn't entrust the role of comforter to Hisoka. He wasn't possessive or overly protective of Azuma, especially now that he was more frequently seen in the company of Banri.
He also didn't seem particularly surprised at any part of the scene he had walked in on.
He wasn't the right man for the job. Then again...neither was Hisoka. A small part of him wanted to be, but he knew that what Azuma needed was the kind of warmth and care only a mother could provide.
This was a job for Omi.
*
It started with the dull thunk of a full sake bottle atop the kitchen table. Startled, Azuma lifted his head from his folded arms and blinked drowsily at the ruggedly handsome man placing a small sake cup before each of them.
"Omi?" he asked, stupidly. "What's the occasion? You don't usually drink."
"No," said Omi, filling first Azuma's, then his own cup to the brim. He clunked his against the one still on the table, then tossed it back with a healthy exhalation of appreciation. "See, Hisoka was thinking you needed warm care and coddling," he continued, refilling. Another clink, and he tossed back the second cup, too. "He's wrong. You don't need any of that shit."
"O-Omi?" Azuma gasped, baffled by the uncharacteristic behavior.
"What you need is a wake up call. The fuck are you waiting for? Drink."
Wary of this apparent personality swap, Azuma watched the younger man, even as he did as he was told. Wariness faded out as appreciation settled in. It was a smooth junmaishu that instantly warmed his extremities.
"So what's the plan here?" he heard himself ask. "Because one more shot like that and I've already drunk you under the table."
"So hurry up and catch up," Omi growled.
That growl gave Azuma chills that weren't entirely unpleasant. He made an effort, though it was a waste not to savor such a smooth distillation.
When they were even, Omi poured for them both again, sloshing some on the table.
"You fucked Tasuku?"
"Technically, Tasuku fucked me."
"Whatever. I'm gonna go out on a limb and guess he didn't break your heart, so why all the moping?"
"How do you know he didn't?"
"Cause you can't break a heart that's covered in bubble wrap. You don't let anyone anywhere near that thing. What aren't you telling me?"
"I used Tasuku."
"So? He's a grown man. He can handle it."
"I used him to over-write the warm memories I had of my brother in the room we grew up in. I'm a disgrace."
"You're human. Azuma, is that what you've been tearing yourself apart for?"
"That room... That empty room in that empty house... That was all I had left."
"Now that's some real bullshit. All you had left? So what does that make this home full of people who love you? Open your eyes already. Your family is gone, but we're right here. Tasuku told me, you know. He debated it real hard, but a week later, he came to me for advice cause he could tell he'd made a mistake but he didn't know why. He knew you were struggling and he was worried, but he thought asking you directly would just make it worse. Then there was Sakyo. He kept making cryptic comments at me. Banri's been staring at you whenever you're not looking. Hell, have you even noticed all the triangles Misumi's been leaving around the place to cheer you up? Even Masumi has been uncommonly tolerant of your time consulting with the director, and don't even get me started on Taichi. He's practically been doing tricks to distract you from your woes. This family is right here for you, right now. So you need to man up and show them you appreciate it."
"Omi..."
"Don't Omi me. If you get what I'm selling, then you can start right now with a show of appreciation for getting me drunk."
"Uh... I don't think you said what you think you did just now."
"I said exactly what I meant! I'm drunk as a skunk right now, and all to help you out with some sage advice like some kinda scholarly wizard. So say thank you!"
With a laugh that was more a giggle than a chuckle, Azuma felt the black mood slide from his shoulders like a mantle falling to the floor. He walked around the table and placed a hand on Omi's shoulder, leaning down to plant a chaste kiss on the man's solid lips. Omi, however, was just as drunk as advertised, and that made him bold. He grabbed Azuma about the neck, holding him down and drawing out the kiss with a clumsy excursion of the tongue that Azuma transformed into a work of art. When he was finally allowed to lift his head and take in some air, he was surprised to find tears on his cheeks again, but this time they weren't the heavy, bitter tears of regret. They were light, and glimmering with hope.
"Thank you," he whispered. "You're a dream come true, Omi."
With a groan, Omi barely saved his face from smashing into the table by landing it on top of his palm instead. "My head's spinning," he complained.
"Well that's what you get for kissing yourself breathless while heavily inebriated," Azuma chided, fetching a clean cloth from under the sink and wetting it. "Don't worry," he added. "I won't tell Kumon." He brought the cloth to Omi's forehead and encouraged the sodden man to hold it there while he filled up a glass of water.
Later, once he had guided Omi to his bed in his siren-like way, he lay awake, cuddled up to the sleeping giant and contemplating how nice it would be to have someone like Omi in his bed every night. Omi was taken, of course. Azuma would like to believe Kumon would forgive him for the kiss, but he knew this sense of comfort was a temporary bandage over a wound too large to be filled with just one relationship. Still, he wished there were someone he could share his nights with regularly—someone he could feel at home with, like he once had done with his brother.
He began to wonder if the Winter Troupe would continue the trend of welcoming a new member who might choose to live in the dorm... It would be nice to have a roommate.
Marveling at just how solid Omi's chest was, Azuma adjusted the lay of his cheek until he found a patch of concrete that better fit the shape of his face. He did so appreciate a big, strong body. It would be nice to have a roommate like that...
Imagining the types of men he would like to have living with him, Azuma drifted off to a gentle and peaceful sleep.
*
Wrapped up in his script, Tsumugi was oblivious to the trio on the sofa nearby. The lively sounds of the Summer Troupe's arguing and pacifying coming from the kitchen clashed with the sounds of the sportier company members engaging in a vigorous workout session in the courtyard before the last dregs of warmth left the Earth for a time. Tasuku was out there, seeming quite energized by the chilly air. He alone of the Winter Troupe was inclined to make the most of the outdoors.
Hisoka and Homare were among the trio on the sofa. Homare was avidly murmuring to himself and scribbling into a little notebook, occasionally extending fingers loaded with a marshmallow from the bag at his hip to Hisoka, who was drowsing in Sakuya's lap watching the latest installment of Tenma's latest BL drama. The whole dorm had gotten into it, in fact, but only so many people could fit comfortably in the living room at a time and still see the TV, so they recorded it to watch in turns.
Staring unblinkingly at the screen, Sakuya seemed utterly mystified by the entire concept of the BL artform, and Tsumugi occasionally paused in his script study to observe Sakuya's expression, wondering if someone should have a chat with him... Then it happened.
Utterly immersed in some poetic breakthrough, Homare reached out with a marshmallow, popping it between lightly parted lips...but not the right lips. Sakuya blinked, lowering his chin as if looking down to see the marshmallow sticking out of his mouth, but it moved with him and he couldn't see it any more clearly even as he leaned forward. Then, his eyes alighted on Hisoka.
It was like some magical slow motion capture of a lightbulb flickering to life. Millimetre by millimetre, Sakuya bent down until the marshmallow between his lips brushed against Hisoka's. His sleepy eyes fluttering open, Hisoka parted his lips to accept the offering, and Sakuya slowly straightened back up again, his eyes no longer glued to the television, but rather, to Hisoka's face.
Feeling as though he had just witnessed something extremely transformative and utterly personal, Tsumugi quickly returned his attention to his script, softly clearing his throat and adjusting his posture. A short while later, a delicate hand clasped his shoulder and long hair tickled his neck.
"Did that just happen?" Azuma murmured.
Tsumugi glanced up at him, then across at the sofa, where Sakuya was licking sugary residue from his lips and Hisoka was staring up at him, breathing shallowly. Blushing faintly, Tsumugi offered the older man a conspiratorial smile.
"Let's not startle them," he said softly.
Closing his script, he tilted his head toward the hallway. He surmised that Azuma had approached him in search of some companionship. Tsumugi had been waiting for such an invitation for some time now, ever since Tasuku had confessed the whole childhood bedroom incident.
A short while later, he was seated on the couch in Azuma's room, appreciating the fruity aftertaste of a fine brandy. The doctor was in session.
"So what do you make of that little marshmallow game?" Azuma asked, the cast of his eyebrows suggesting he had some pertinent thoughts on the subject.
"Why don't you tell me what you make of it?" Tsumugi challenged.
The best way to cut to the heart of the matter was to barrel right through all of the flirtatious, lascivious innuendo and advances. Maybe then Azuma would be ready to talk feelings.
"Well, let's see... In Sakuya's immediate vicinity, we have Masumi and Tsuzuru, Yuki and Itaru, Misumi and Chikage, Tenma and Aki, Juza and Muku, Kumon and Omi, Banri and Sakyo...and Azami (but don't tell anyone I told you), and... Oh look, I've run out of teenagers. He can't possibly be as oblivious as everyone seems to think. I don't see why everyone feels the need to coddle him. Do you?"
"I think it's only natural to want to protect someone with such an innocent, positive outlook on the world, even if they don't need protecting," Tsumugi responded.
"He's old enough to be influenced by his hormones—and obviously that's exactly what we just saw, wouldn't you say?" Azuma posed, crossing his legs in the opposite direction as he took another mouthful of brandy.
"Why does it matter what I think?" Tsumugi asked. However, he didn't wait for a response. "Not that this is really about Sakuya's impending romantic awakening."
"It's not? Well, what's it about, then?"
Azuma was just full of questions all of a sudden. Tsumugi cupped the brandy glass in both hands and leaned forward, pinning Azuma with his gaze.
"Do you think you would be a different person now if you had lost your Innocence at a younger age?" Tsumugi challenged.
There were more delicate ways to pose the question, but he was confident of Azuma's need for direct discussion. He watched as the carefree mask crumbled away and Azuma's eyes turned solemn.
"Maybe," he said softly. "I think I might...be in a different place...in my love life." Tsumugi waited, his expression neutral but encouraging. He lifted the glass to his lips to show that he was comfortable and willing to listen. Eventually, Azuma responded to the silent support. "It's not about age. It just... I look at all of these couples around me, including you and Tasuku, and I can't help but wonder... Why don't I have that? Why don't have someone in my life just for me? Someone who finds me special."
"Tasuku and I... We're in an open relationship, you know. Not all that different from you and Sakyo, I thought."
"That's over now," Azuma said with a shrug. "It was always meant to be a temporary thing."
"That doesn't mean you're not special to Sakyo, or to anyone else you've chosen to be with, and vice versa." Leaning back, Tsumugi rested the glass on his lap and tried to find the words to describe how unique and wonderful his relationship was. "Tasuku and I, we love each other, it's true, but...that doesn't mean we don't have feelings for anyone else. I think that what you feel for the men in your life—all of them...all of us—is very similar. You just haven't found your Tasuku yet."
"So, what, I should just keep working my way through everyone I meet one by one until I do?" Azuma muttered bitterly.
"No," said Tsumugi, his inflection drifting upward to indicate he had more to say, though he gave it a moment for Azuma's melancholy to soften. "It means you shouldn't let the stigma of a monotonous society get in your head. If you like someone, if you're interested in them, you only have to take things as far as you want to. No more, no less. And if you find they're not the one, then at least you have a new bond and a new perspective."
Sighing, Azuma frowned at his empty glass, getting up to refill it. "I thought I knew all this," he groaned. "I thought I had it all worked out."
"I don't think that's possible," Tsumugi mused. "Not for anyone."
"Not even you?" Azuma asked, walking over to fill up Tsumugi's glass as well before returning the bottle.
"Not even me," Tsumugi replied, grinning at the largely rhetorical question. Azuma had to know he had very little figured out except that he loved Tasuku. That didn't mean he knew how to cope with Tasuku most of the time, or how to navigate his shifting feelings for other people. He'd actually been jealous to hear that Tasuku had slept with Azuma...before he did. There was always one way to balance the books... Feeling slightly devious at the very notion, Tsumugi took a deeper drought of the brandy, letting it infuse him with a spicy kind of heat. "So, who do you think will be the next couple?" he asked, his eyes glinting with mischief.
"Aside from the obvious?" Azuma responded, an equal hint of mischief in the subtle curl of his smirk. "Once Sakuya wakes Hisoka up to what's brewing—or, more likely, the other way round—I suppose we'll just have to take matters into our own hands. Kazu and Citron have such a bright dynamic, don't you think?"
"Sure, but Citron and Homare have that quirky eccentricity in common."
"All the more reason to balance it out with Kazu's influence."
"You're assuming he's even interested in men."
Azuma laughed. "Oh, he is," he said with surety.
"I should have known," Tsumugi sighed, wondering why he hadn't gotten in the game sooner. "Don't you think they'd make a cute threesome, then? Perhaps you and I could give them all a little nudge and see what happens. I know Citron has his eyes on Kazu."
"Citron has his eyes on anybody who'll dote on him," Azuma said, seeming much brighter to be discussing anyone's love life but his own. "But we're forgetting someone... Someone very sweet and doting, who lives to please."
Gasping, Tsumugi almost forgot his own designs for a moment as the machinations began to whirl in his head. "Taichi," he breathed.
"Taichi," Azuma agreed.
They plotted well past nightfall, mostly theoretically discussing ways to bring together Citron and Taichi, or Kazu and Homare, and any other combinations of the above. What they didn't discuss was the fact that Azuma wholly excluded himself from their calculations as anything but a pawn.
Nor did they discuss what it meant when they stopped lapping at spirits and began lapping at one another, instead. There was no hesitation, no confusion, no misconception. Azuma was interested, and so was Tsumugi. They would take things as far as they mutually desired, no more, no less. Just because neither was the one for the other didn't mean they couldn't have fun.
*
It was vexing, to say the least. Azuma hadn't met a person he couldn't either seduce or soften with his charms, but Guy seemed to be every bit the android he claimed to be. He wasn't tempted by suggestive words, alluring actions, or peeks of flesh. Nor was he swayed by soft-spoken words, pleas of comfort, or even flashes of anger. He just didn't respond with any kind of sensuality or emotion to any of the tricks in Azuma's arsenal. It was uncanny.
That wasn't to say they didn't get along. They soon bonded over their mutual appreciation of fine liquor, and Guy was perfectly happy to let Azuma use him as a body pillow. He was a fine roommate, and pleasant company.
He also drove Azuma completely mad. He was everything Azuma admired in a physical sense, was compatible with Azuma in terms of hobbies and intellect, and exhibited a sense of trust and loyalty that Azuma coveted above all else. He just...didn't seem to be interested in Azuma either physically or romantically.
It didn't take long for Azuma to begin wondering if that was because Guy was in love with Citron. That kind of unwavering devotion was uncanny...and it only made Azuma want Guy all the more. Every time he failed to get a rise out of Guy, the frustration seeded in his belly blossomed into an even stronger desire. Normally, he would just blow off some steam with Sakyo or someone else, but everyone else either seemed to have their own problems, or were in such a good, comfortable place, Azuma didn't want to intrude.
In fact, he'd shot himself in the foot there. Having set Kazu and Homare up on a weekend ski trip, the pair had returned arm in arm and were so taken with one another, there was no doubt in anyone's mind that they'd found some common ground in travel and luxury that married well with their mutual passionate energy and artistic flair. Azuma had to hand it to himself, he and Tsumugi were pretty good.
They had missed the mark on Citron and Taichi, though. That hadn't gone anywhere, but mainly because Taichi was mooning hopelessly after Yuki, after having discovered he was the mysterious girl next door who was Taichi's first love. And Citron... Citron seemed oddly determined to window shop. He admired far and wide, but Azuma had come to notice he never touched. It was more than that, though. He seemed to grow dismayed after Guy showed up, putting more and more walls up with those around him.
There was something there. Citron and Guy... They had some kind of past, Azuma was sure of it. Unlocking that mystery was the key to unlocking Citron's safe mode, and unlocking Citron was surely the key to unlocking Guy. Azuma just had to figure out whether or not he was ready to unlock himself in the process.
The upside was that his melancholy had finally dissipated in the wake of his therapy session with Tsumugi—and the fun, casual sex that followed. There was something refreshing about that fling that reminded Azuma how far he had come on his own, and how nice it was to share a variety of bonds with a variety of people. He still craved something a little more intimate and personal, but that hollow sensation stopped eating away at him. Just because he had room for a love of his own didn't mean he couldn't live without it... But just because he could live without it didn't mean he should give up.
So he played the long game. He focused on the Winter Troupe's performance, and paid close attention to Citron in the interim. It was only after the dramatic revelation that there was an honest to goodness prince in their midst that Azuma started putting two and two together. Citron was royalty, and Guy was his servant. It was an age-old tale.
"Your Highness," he greeted, holding out a glass of champagne flavored with tropical fruit to the prince who was staring mindlessly out at the gorgeous sunset on the horizon. The views from the palace were indescribably beautiful. Azuma could hardly fathom why Citron would choose to live in urban Japan by contrast.
Citron took the glass but he shook his head softly, his gaze still distant. "That's not who I am."
"Isn't it?" Leaning back against the balcony railing, Azuma set his sights on the only view that rivaled the scenery... Citron, all decked out in his fine, royal raiment. He looked so at home, so in his element. "All your far-fetched stories of menageries and ménage à trois... All this time, you were just telling us about your life."
A small, mischievous smirk brightened Citron's expression. "Not all of it," he said. "Only what I knew you would not believe."
"Why not tell us?" Azuma asked. "I know, you didn't want to be found, but... We could have helped you if we knew."
"There are some things a man must face for himself," Citron said with a shrug. "I never expected there could be another option... But there is. I'm free... Free to act. Free to explore. Free to be with..."
"Guy." And there it was. Disappointment loomed―but so did hope. For Guy. For Citron. "You don't have to pretend anymore, Citron. You can let down those walls and let him in."
"But...won't you be lonely?" Citron murmured, his expression sad rather than hopeful. "I thought...he would be good for you. A roommate and companion of your own..."
Azuma felt warmth fill his gaze as he smiled at the clever, handsome prince who was somehow so oblivious. "Guy only has eyes for one man―one person in the whole wide world," he said with gentle certainty. "Don't hold him at arm's length. You both deserve to be happy."
"Then, who will make you happy?" Citron asked solemnly.
"When I find him, I'll let you know," Azuma promised, kissing Citron softly on the cheek.
*
"Taichi, sweetheart... This isn't going to work out," Azuma sighed, breaking away from the hesitant kiss and withdrawing the touches that made the young man flinch.
Wide-eyed and teary, Taichi gulped. "Why not?" he asked.
Azuma was fairly certain he knew, but it was going to have to be said out loud to be definitive. Kindly, he brushed Taichi's cheek and then pinched it softly, teasingly.
"Because you're straight, sweetie. I might be woman enough for your fantasies, but not for your senses."
He waited, and watched as the realization dawned. Taichi had never been in love with the real Yuki. It was the girl he'd thought he'd known who enraptured him. Azuma wasn't going to work for a rebound. No man could fill that role, not even an exceedingly beautiful siren of a man.
"Sorry, Azuma..." Looking utterly dejected, Taichi sniffled and stared down at his lap. "I thought, if I could just―"
"None of that," Azuma scolded softly. "Life doesn't always work out with neat, tidy, even packages all wrapped up in little bows. You should be out there, looking for the girl of your dreams, not trying to convince yourself you want something you don't."
Taichi nodded, still sniffling. "I just want you to be happy," he said sheepishly.
Azuma fell on the human puppy dog, squeezing him tightly in appreciation of his big heart. "I am happy," he promised. "I have the biggest, loveliest family I could ever hope for. That's all I need."
*
Lying on his belly atop the picnic blanket, Azuma warmly gazed around at all the couples, triangles, and other assortments of happy folk around him as the cherry blossom petals rained down in blessing. Leaning into Banri while subtly holding Azami's fingers in his hand, Sakyo sent Azuma a shy little smile, then started and shouted at Ken who spilled beer all over Banri's lap and promply began to mop it up, muttering profuse apologies. He spent quite a while at that, come to think of it, and Banri didn't lift a solitary finger to stop him... Ladling out punch decorated with freshly fallen petals while Tasuku passed out cling-wrapped plates, Tsumugi sent Azuma a wink and grinned over at Taichi and the director, who were both blushing prettily. With Kumon napping up against his side, Omi yawned while cutting up the carrot cake he'd baked, and then pushed the first slice Azuma's way with a grin. Yuki and Itaru weren't even trying to hide a damn thing, the little doll of a boy sitting firmly in Itaru's lap and demanding to be hand-fed. Itaru sent a suffering plea toward Azuma with his eyes. Masumi, meanwhile, was trying to hand-feed a blushing, stammering Tsuzuru, who caught Azuma's gaze and squeaked out a cry for help that nobody was falling for. Juza overtly licked a drip of pudding from the corner of Muku's lip. If he thought he could get away with that because it was pudding, he was sorely mistaken. Citron didn't hold back a shocking comment involving "custard" that Guy apologized for in dogeza. Even the manager noticed the overt sexuality the cousins were exuding and averted his gaze. Now, there was an asexual man if Azuma had ever known one. He probably wouldn't welcome having the moves put on him in the name of exploration... And that was fine. Azuma had everything he needed. He was surrounded by love and warmth. Misumi was offering Akito a whole plate of Doritos, which Tenma dug right into, and Chigake's eybrow hardly twitched at all. Sakuya had assumed marshmallow duty while Homare recited what was purportedly a love poem for a starry-eyed Kaz. If Hisoka seemed more interested in tasting Sakuya's fingers than the sweet treats, Azuma wasn't going to judge, that was for sure.
"What a pack of degenerates."
The gruff mutter was accompanied by the thud of a large rump hitting the blanket-covered ground at Azuma's side. That low voice made him tingle just a little. Rolling onto his back, Azuma greeted Yuzo with a light brush down his arm that traveled all the way to his thigh and settled there.
"Hi," he said, appraising his chances automatically.
Yuzo raised his brows. "If you think that kinda cheap trick's gonna work on me, you've got another thing coming."
With a jolt of remorse, Azuma removed his hand. "Sorry... I didn't mean to offend you."
"Who's offended?" Yuzo scoffed. He bent over to pick up a sandwich and whispered huskily in Azuma's ear while he was at it... "If you wanna get your brains fucked out, you just gotta say so."
A shudder went through Azuma. Nobody spoke to him like that―not even Omi on a bender. It was hot.
He lay there, stunned, while Yuzo packed down a sandwich or two, and then reached for a chocolate-filled cream donut. He met Azuma's eyes while holding the sweet treat up in front of his face, and Azuma just knew he was tonguing the injection hole. He put on a real show of it while not making a scene at all. Only Azuma knew what the man had just whispered into his ear and what images were now being implanted in his mind.
Nobody made moves like that on him. He was always the pursuer, always flirting... Maybe they all knew they didn't have to put any work into getting into his pants... So why was Yuzo making such an effort to turn him on?
Twenty minutes later, in the storage room, Azuma found out exactly what benefits there were to having someone go to all that effort. He was hard, horny, and aggressively hungry for it by the time Yuzo crushed him up against an old set piece lining the wall, face first. He craned his neck around into a messy kiss while his pants were yanked down his thighs, and then Yuzo dropped to his knees and made Azuma into his human donut.
"Fuck me," Azuma groaned when he couldn't take any more of the vigorous tongueing. "Like you promised."
"You didn't ask," Yuzo teased, standing and rubbing up against Azuma's crack. "You want all this, you gotta ask nicely."
"Please," Azuma moaned, his knees weakening a little as he felt Yuzo's girth at his entrance. "Please give it to me... Please."
"Fuck, you're hot... A man could get used to makin' you beg for it..."
Yuzo's rough, deep voice carried those words through Azuma like a nova that left him burning up. He panted, astounded at himself. He had never once ejaculated prematurely, and never that much in one go...
"Shit, did you just cum?" Yuzo growled.
Azuma reached back and dug his nails into a solid thigh. "If you don't hurry up and take me, I'll go find someone who will," he growled back.
"The hell you will," Yuzo rumbled posessively.
A moment later, he was systematically splitting Azuma apart with the biggest, hardest cock imaginable. His arm around Azuma's middle was all that kept the blissed-out man upright. A stream of filth tumbled from lips accustomed to uttering sweet nothings. It was an experience wholly unlike anything he'd ever felt before. When Yuzo bottomed out after a long, slow penetration, that very realization made Azuma cum again, trembling and almost sliding to his knees―but strong, sturdy, dependable Yuzo had him held fast.
The next thing he knew, they were on the dirty, paint-streaked tarp that covered the ground, Azuma arched sunny-side-up over Yuzo's body while that thick cock drove up into him over and over again. He had no control―not over himself or what was happening―but he instinctively trusted in Yuzo's protective nature. He knew he was safe, even if he was going to be aching all over for days.
Huffing with exertion after bringing Azuma to a third devastating orgasm, Yuzo took a break and eased Azuma into a comfortable drape atop him, still fully impaled. They both needed a moment to catch their breath.
Azuma blindly reached back to feel for Yuzo's sweaty cheek, letting his fingers roam through damp hair. Meanwhile, he stroked himself softly and slowly, just enjoying the feeling of fullness.
"This is so good," he breathed, letting his husky tone carry all the pleasure he was basking in. "I've never felt anything like it."
Yuzo made a soft grunt. "Wasn't sure I'd have anything to offer a guy with your experience, but damn, I had to try. Sakyo fed me all the right lines, I guess."
"I'm glad he did," Azuma murmured. "You sure nailed the delivery... I needed this."
Running his fingers through the mess of splashes and precum staining Azuma's belly, Yuzo spoke as shyly and quietly as anyone at Mankai had ever heard him.
"Thing is, I've only got one round in me, so I wanna make it count."
Chuckling, Azuma shifted around until he could twist to see Yuzo's face. "We'll see about that," he hummed, then kissed Yuzo fondly―with a great deal of tongue. He began to roll his hips, clenching and releasing around the magnificent length inside of him. "And if not, I'm sure we can work on your stamina," he said, just as Yuzo began thrusting again.
He was already making plans and beginning to wonder if he'd found his version of a "Tasuku" of his own. Tsumugi was going to lose his mind when he heard where they'd gotten off to―and just how much Azuma had gotten off!
It wasn't romantic, but Azuma had plenty of access to romance, if only temporary. It wasn't sweet, but he had friends for that. It was hot. It was a raging bonfire. It consumed him and fueled him all at once. Sex with Yuzo was exciting, and made him want like he had never wanted before.
Seizing up from neck to toe-tip while Yuzo's powerful arms pinned him down, Azuma saw the future flash before his eyes as he emptied himself in one intense, final climax. The future...
That was something he'd never focused on. Through Tasuku, he had begun to let go of the past. With Tsumugi's help, he had begun to accept the present. But Yuzo... Yuzo made him feel excited for the future, and that was everything.