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Daigo hissed as Yoshitaka’s lips brushed over the puckered dip scarring his chest, the lingering reminder of his brush with death at Richardson’s hands.
“Easy,” Yoshitaka murmured against his skin, his hands skimming up Daigo’s sides as though soothing a spooked colt. “Trust me.”
Daigo tensed beneath his touch before turning his head away and exhaling in a rush. “I do,” he said, half-muffled by the pillow beneath his head. “More than anyone. It’s just… it’s—“
Yoshitaka couldn’t help the triumphant grin at Daigo’s sharp gasp as Yoshitaka’s fingers found his belly, drawing a firm circle around his navel. “It’s been a while,” he guessed, confirmed with Daigo’s stiff nod. An unfamiliar tenderness swelled in his chest, uncomfortable and too much, but where he once might have shoved it down he instead reveled in it. He trailed a line of soft kisses up the side of Daigo’s throat, nuzzled beneath his jaw. “I missed you.”
Daigo tensed again, apparently not having expected his confession—it was only fair, as it had surprised Yoshitaka, too. “Yoshitaka,” he began, only to be silenced by an awkward kiss, without artifice in its attempt to divert Daigo from whatever he’d been intending to say. He made a sound of protest, but it didn’t stop him from sliding a hand into Yoshitaka’s hair to hold him in the kiss.
It seemed a small eternity before Yoshitaka broke away from the kiss, propping himself up on a hand to take in the picture Daigo made beneath him. Flushed and heavy-lidded, Daigo was a far cry from his usual collection, his customary control—even in bed—slipping away to reveal a vulnerability that made Yoshitaka want to coddle him. He knew he had no right—after all, he'd been a key part of the circumstances leading to Daigo's injury in the first place—but the urge to wrap him tight was there regardless.
Daigo pushing at his shoulders brought Yoshitaka's attention back to him, to study the tight line of Daigo's frown. His brows were pinched, eyes narrowed, and Yoshitaka blinked at a sudden thought. "I didn't hurt you, did I?"
"It's not— No." Daigo squirmed slightly, gaze flitting from Yoshitaka's to the wall, the ceiling. "I'm..." He squirmed again, then muttered, "I'm flying too close to the sun."
Yoshitaka raised his brows, but pushed aside the question of Western mythology to focus on the important one: "Why?"
With a sigh, Daigo worked his way upright, sliding from Yoshitaka's hold until his shoulders were propped against the dark headboard. He pressed his lips together, though the tension did little to mask the flush riding high on his cheeks. "You're killing me, Yoshitaka." He dragged his fingers through the fine hairs trailing from his navel to his groin, ruffling the treasure trail. "The spirit is willing, but the flesh..."
Pieces clicked into place, and Yoshitaka surged over Daigo, pinning him to the headboard as he caught his mouth with an eager kiss. He ignored Daigo's sound of protest, instead licking his way into Daigo's mouth as his fingers found the pulse thrumming in Daigo's throat and measured its pace, almost matching his own. It was reassuring and overwhelming, knowing that he'd almost lost this the moment he'd had it, through his own machinations, and the scope of it brought a groan from his throat as he tore his mouth away and pressed his forehead against Daigo's sternum.
"Yoshitaka?"
"I don't care," Yoshitaka said, as though Daigo hadn't spoken. "I don't care if we never fuck again." He snapped his mouth shut, appalled at the emotion making his voice ragged, but the flood refused to be held back. "I want to be yours, by your side however you'll have me. I—" He bit his tongue, before the next words forced themselves out as a strained whisper. "I can't lose you."
Daigo was silent beneath him, hands lax at his sides, still but for the rush of his blood. Only when Yoshitaka stiffened to pull himself away did Daigo move, both hands coming to Yoshitaka's shoulders and holding him down with unexpected strength. "I can't promise you won't," Daigo said softly. His thumbs stroked along Yoshitaka's clavicle, a soothing back and forth. "But I need you with me, too." His hands shifted to skim over Yoshitaka's throat, thumbs pressing beneath his chin to tip it up until their gazes met. "Don't ever try to throw your life away again."
Yoshitaka's eyes burned, a sensation he ignored as he caught one of Daigo's hands, tugging it away from his throat to lace their fingers together. "I might." He chuckled weakly when Daigo's eyes narrowed. "I don't make promises I may not be able to keep."
Daigo sighed in resignation, tightening his fingers briefly around Yoshitaka's throat before they crept to cup his cheek instead, tips tapping gently against the taut skin there. "I can't wait until I can remind you who's in charge here," he grumbled, though a faint smile tugged at the corners of his mouth. "You'd better stick around until then."
"Mm." Yoshitaka smirked again at Daigo's disgruntled look, but didn't expand on his answer as he squirmed down the bed to be able to rest his head in Daigo's lap. It was a new experience for them, the tenderness, the time, but one Yoshitaka hoped would become more and more familiar. As Daigo's fingers drifted through his hair, Yoshitaka hummed contentedly. The moment may have passed, but as Daigo—as they—healed, there would no doubt be others, and he would learn to cherish every one.