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Masahiro watches from the dining table as Kousuke pours himself a drink, some brown concoction that quite frankly looks all around unappealing. But the way that Kousuke moves around so eloquently alternating cola from a bottle and alcohol from a funny shaped glass container, Masahiro is entranced in watching the creation, like watching a wizard create a potion.
Masahiro is supposed to be completing his homework, but instead he’s admiring Kousuke. Kousuke lifts his drink from the table, takes a swig, and leans back. He digs in his pocket for a cigarette, lights it, and alternates his drug intake between his rum and his nicotine.
“Masahiro, you’re not doing your homework.”
“It’s hard to focus.”
“Do you need help?” Kousuke takes a drag and pulls an ashtray close. He flicks the cigarette ashes onto the tray. The room smells strongly of Kousuke’s cigarettes, but Kousuke knows that Masahiro finds it comforting. In the past, he's expressed how he has grown to love the scent. He craves it, he misses it when it’s gone. It reminds him completely of Kousuke, his warm body, his gentle touch, his kisses, his reassuring presence. The smell is calming to him.
“No, I just- I, uh-“
Kousuke stubs out his cigarette. “Are you interested in my drink? I saw you watching me make it.”
“You’d really let me try?”
Kousuke smirks. “I mean, you’re not old enough, so don’t tell anyone. But you can.”
Kousuke slides his glass across the table. Masahiro picks it up and looks inside, the ice cubes bouncing in the brown liquid. He sniffs, and he’s filled with the sting of alcohol. He hesitates.
“Just take a gulp. It’ll hurt, but you’ll feel good.” Kousuke’s watching him intently, a smirk still on his face. Masahiro’s cheeks turn red. He closes his eyes and lets the drink flow into his mouth, and he’s instantly repulsed.
“Oh god,” Masahiro spits, half of the alcohol down his throat burning his esophagus and chest, the other half back in the cup. “Oh god, that’s horrible.”
Kousuke laughs heartily, taking his glass back and drinking from it again. “Masa, it’s not that bad. How about I make you a drink more your style?”
“My style?”
“Something a little fruitier.”
Masahiro’s face heats up, but Kousuke's not sure if it’s from the alcohol or Kousuke’s insinuation. Kousuke stands and rummages through his bottle collection before pulling two out. One is a bright pink with images of strawberries printed on it, the other is a generic dark glass with fancy calligraphy. Kousuke pulls out a cup and begins creating Masahiro’s drink. The pink bottle pours a similarly bright pink liquid, while the dark glass pours a clear one. By the end, Masahiro’s drink is in fact rather pretty, similar to a strawberry milk. Kousuke doesn’t say it, but the pink in the glass is reminiscent of Masahiro’s blushing face, and Kousuke created the drink with Masahiro’s face in mind. That, and he knew Masahiro would find something lighter more appetizing than his harder liquors.
Masahiro gives his new drink a try, and while it still burns, it’s much more bearable. In fact, it’s actually good. Really good. Masahiro continues to gulp the drink.
“Like it?” Kousuke asks, already knowing the answer. He leans closer to Masahiro, feeling tipsy as he watches his beautiful wife enjoy his drink. He’s not actually his wife, of course – they’re not quite there yet, but Kousuke is sure that when the time is right, he will be. Kousuke has been ready since the day he realized he wanted Masahiro to be his – but Masahiro, he reasoned, would need more time because of his inexperience and his life stress.
“I think I do,” Masahiro replies. He starts giggling. A lot, actually. Kousuke is intrigued at this behavior, the usually cautious Masa starting to act more carefree.
Before Kousuke has much time to react, Masahiro has finished his drink and is begging Kousuke for more.
“I don’t know, Masa,” he clicks his tongue. “You’re already acting funny.”
“Come on, Kou!”
Okay, he can’t resist.
Another drink (or maybe two) later, and Masahiro tries to stand up but wobbles, landing on Kousuke’s side. Kousuke slides his chair back and catches Masahiro in his lap, his giggly rear on Kousuke’s admittedly growing length, though he’s not sure if the arousal is primarily the drink, or the Masahiro squirming in his lap. Probably the latter. Definitely the latter.
Masahiro seems to feel Kousuke growing underneath him, or else he’s unintentionally rubbing himself all over Kousuke. Kousuke lets out a grunt. “Masa, baby, you’re all worked up.”
Masahiro hiccups and giggles. “Kou,” he leans back, his back pressed to Kousuke’s chest, his arm wrapped around his shoulders, his breath on Kousuke’s cheek. “Kou,” he repeats.
“Yes, baby?”
“Kou!”
Kousuke lets out a laugh. “Masa, baby, you’ve had too much.” He pushes his way up, holding Masahiro in his arms. He lifts him up higher so that he’s holding him bridal-style, his legs in one arm, his upper back in the other. Masahiro’s cheeks are on fire, and Kousuke can tell that he’s feeling the heat, as he reaches up and lifts his t-shirt up to expose his belly, fanning his body off as Kousuke carries him to their shared room. He lays Masahiro on his bed. Kousuke lies down next to him.
He's always found Masahiro to be especially attractive. His blond hair pulled back to expose his forehead, his slender body loosely defined by a hint of a muscular build. His eyes are so bright that Kousuke feels himself unable to look away. He’s just beautiful. There’s nothing he’d change about him, not in his personality either. The stubbornness may irritate him on a bad day, but it’s otherwise nice to have someone who cares so intently for him. He worries far too much, and perhaps some drinks would be a good thing for him, Kousuke reasons. It’s too late, of course, to reverse this effect, but he wonders if Masahiro may benefit from more ways to relax. He’s always so tense.
He struggles in school. He struggles to balance his work with his education. He struggles to sort out his conflicted feelings about his mother, and his relationship with Kousuke, a secret to his peers. It’s a lot for him to handle, and Kousuke knows that he could be doing a better job of helping Masahiro. But Masahiro often outright refuses his help – the stubbornness coming into play.
Kousuke props himself up on his arm, facing Masahiro. Masahiro is on his back, hair pulled back, shirt still lifted. His chest and stomach rise rapidly with his hurried breathing. He’s like a goddess. Kousuke has seldom been able to resist.
He's suddenly attacked by Masahiro, who jumps on top of him, straddling him at the waist. Masahiro’s legs are on either side of Kousuke, his arms holding himself up. Kousuke’s back lies against the mattress. He feels so warm, his stomach churns with arousal feeling Masahiro’s hardened length against his, layers of fabric painfully keeping him from feeling raw skin. It’s almost too much to bear.
Masahiro starts gyrating his hips, rubbing their shafts against each other, grinding and gasping. Masahiro’s wearing only a t-shirt and loose underwear, Kousuke still in his khaki trousers and button-up. He doesn’t want to stop Masahiro, but he absolutely has to get his pants off so he can feel as much of Masahiro as possible. He’s intoxicated, and Masahiro clearly is by his willingness to take charge. The intoxication is amplified by his complete and utter lust, his brain short-circuiting with the pleasure and cravings for more Masahiro.
“Masa, baby,” Kousuke grunts, his voice husky. His heart is on fire, his chest burns with lust, love for his partner, and the alcohol numbing his brain. “Masa, let me-“
Masahiro groans as if it kills him to get off of Kousuke, and Kousuke rushes to undress. Even the mere moments of separation are too much, and Masahiro whines as Kousuke trips over himself. In the moment of separation, he reaches into his side drawer and pulls out a bottle that he knows he’ll be needing. Finally, he’s escaped from his pants and shirt, and he crawls on top of Masahiro this time.
“Kousuke,” Masahiro moans, wrapping his arms around Kousuke’s neck. He traps Kousuke’s lips against his, breathing fast. Kousuke pushes his tongue into Masahiro’s mouth, tasting the drink from earlier along with a distinctly sweet taste that can only be described as something unique to Masahiro. He pushes his tongue farther down his throat, desperate to capture as much of his taste as he can. His face is wet and his cock twitches each time he hears Masahiro moan from deep in his throat, his fingers raking across Kousuke’s back. His nails are long enough to cause pain, but he desperately needs it. He wants to be marked with Masahiro, just as he wants to mark him back. He feels animalistic, as if Masahiro is his first meal in weeks. He’s nearly choking Masahiro on his tongue and kisses. It’s only once his lips are sore that he pulls back, and Masahiro gasps, “Kousuke, I need you.”
His words set Kousuke ablaze. If he wasn’t already unbearably hard, he sure was now.
He wraps Masahiro’s legs around his waist. He lifts Masahiro’s t-shirt and licks his exposed, hardened nipples, kissing his areolas. Masahiro starts squirming, moaning loudly, his back arching off of the sheets.
“Kou- ah-“
“Yes, baby, let me hear you.”
“Oh, Kou-“
Kousuke traces his tongue around one nipple while his hand works the other. He knows that this is a particularly sensual act for Masahiro, one that always drives him crazy, and the effect is only heightened by the tipsiness. He leaves hickies on his chest, biting the skin until it’s red and purple, sore, and thoroughly imprinted. He leaves tens by his nipples, more on his hips and stomach, some on his thighs, all until Masahiro looks ravaged. There’s hardly a speck of skin untouched.
For a moment, he admires his artwork. Masahiro’s whole body is wet, his stomach with distinct teeth prints left behind. His nipples are red from the work that Kousuke’s put in, and there’s nail marks on his hips where Kousuke’s dug into him in trying to keep him in place. His thighs are in similar, if not worse, condition.
Kousuke removes Masahiro’s underwear to allow himself more access to his thighs. Masahiro’s length is hard and dripping with precum. Kousuke lifts Masahiro’s legs onto his shoulders, positioning his face between his legs, and, with hardly a thought holding him back, plunges his tongue into Masahiro’s hole. The sounds coming from his underling are pure pleasure. With a similar voracity as he consumed his throat, he savors Masahiro with a desperation to get as much of him as possible. Masahiro’s toes are curling, his legs spread, his back arching, his hands grasping at anything he can get, particularly the sheets on one side and Kousuke’s hair with the other.
It's not enough. He can’t get enough.
Masahiro’s crying echoes off his ears. Kousuke can’t think clearly. He just needs more and more and more.
Kousuke removes himself briefly and sucks his finger, thoroughly lubricating it before adding it to Masahiro’s hole. He uses the moment of freedom to catch his breath, lubricate his other hand, and stroke Masahiro. He’s an absolute adorable mess, and he’s reciprocating more than Kousuke has ever seen before. The alcohol, it seems, was a good choice.
“Kou,” he cries, “Kou-“
“Yes baby, I’m here. You look so pretty.”
Masahiro’s eyes are wet. Kousuke moves his finger in and out, curling his knuckle. Masahiro lets out a particularly loud groan, and Kousuke knows he’s hit gold.
“Let me hear you, Masa,” Kousuke grunts, his own breathing labored. He’s sweating, but he can’t stop.
“Kou, I’m so- I’m-“
“Yes?”
“Uhn,” Masahiro throws his head back, his eyes shutting. Kousuke, by now, knows his body cues, and he has Masahiro exactly how he wants him. His beautiful naked body is something that Kousuke feels protective over, completely absorbed in preserving the purity of. Masahiro is all his, now and forever.
He removes his finger. He grabs his bottle of lube and prepares his own cock, pumping Masahiro as he does so. Masahiro’s drooling, but rather than finding it unsightly, it’s the exact opposite.
“Baby, are you-“
“I’m ready,” Masahiro cries urgently, surprising Kousuke. As much as Kousuke had felt his own unbridled lust, it seems the feeling is mutual. “I’m ready, I want you, I want all of you.”
He can’t say no to that.
Kousuke steadily inserts his length, watching Masahiro’s body for signs of any discomfort. Masahiro’s eyes squeeze shut as he adjusts to the new member in his body. Kousuke places his arms on either side of Masahiro, one hand moving back to hold one of Masahiro’s legs up to keep him stretched open. Their stomachs are pressed together because of Masahiro arching. Masahiro’s hands have returned to Kousuke’s back, adding more marks with each moan. Kousuke pauses once his entire cock is inside.
“Baby,” he grunts. “You are so beautiful.”
Masahiro opens his eyes again. Kousuke’s blown away for a moment, his lust pausing as his heart fills with love. He loves Masahiro. All this time that he’s spent with him, all he’s done to help him through his troubles, he’s done it because he wants him forever. He wants those eyes to look at him this way every day, to feel his body every night.
“Masa,” Kousuke continues, Masahiro silent but nostrils flaring with his fast breaths. “Will you marry me?”
Masahiro’s eyes start leaking. Kousuke can’t really tell if he’s sober enough to truly answer the question, but he didn’t actually mean to ask it regardless. It just came out. He’s been calling him his wife as a joke, as a way to divert suspicion when asked about his home life by his peers, but he’s meant it every time he’s said it and thought it.
“Masa, I’m sorr-“
“Yes, Kou, I want to. I- I- I want to marry you.”
Kousuke feels frozen in time. Masahiro has tears streaming down his face. Does he mean it?
Unable to form words, he does all he knows to do. He removes his cock and pushes it back in with as much force as he can muster, Masahiro somehow crying even louder than before. His moans are like music to Kousuke.
He starts thrusting fast and hard, the bed creaking underneath. Masahiro clumsily tries to reciprocate by moving his hips in time with the thrusting, but Kousuke’s so overwhelmed with passion that he can’t wait and try to sync with him. His cock is throbbing, and unable to resist having his body be attached to Masahiro at every point, he moves his mouth to his chest and kisses his nipples again. He trails up his neck and engulfs his lips, swallowing each moan.
“Kou, it burns, oh god, Kou, I’m gonna cum,” Masahiro chants. Kousuke’s chest feels tight.
Suddenly, Masahiro’s length explodes, their chests being painted white. He throws his head back, a moan coming from the pit of his stomach, toes curled, his hole thoroughly ravaged. The sight of Masahiro completely come undone is too much, and Kousuke also finishes, filling Masahiro as deeply as he can, a blinding white light coating his senses as he climaxes. It’s so much that his cock slips out once he’s done because of the amount of cum overflowing from Masahiro’s essentially destroyed hole. Exhausted, Kousuke lands on his side, one arm over Masahiro’s stomach.
They lie there, simply catching their breath, recovering from their orgasms. Kousuke’s back burns where Masahiro’s nails have broken the skin. He’s sure that Masahiro feels the same pain, well, everywhere, since Kousuke made sure to bite every inch of skin he could get to.
A few moments pass, or maybe hours do, Kousuke can’t tell, time feels unreal. He leans forward and stands, walking to the closet. He grabs a hand towel and turns back, starting to clean off the bed and himself.
He looks over at Masahiro. He’s fallen asleep. It doesn’t surprise Kousuke, not after what they did.
Gently, he starts to clean him off, wiping the cum off of his stomach and chest. He looks down to his hole, debating whether to clean his own cum out of Masahiro, but decides that he’d like it better if he stayed inside Masahiro for as long as he can. He also notices that he’s made him bleed, and he resolves to apologize in the morning, as he doesn’t like hurting his Masa. He likes to mark him, make him his, but in his determination, sometimes he goes perhaps too far. He’s not sure if Masahiro minds, but he doesn’t want to break any boundaries, or hurt him too much.
He throws his towel and their discarded clothes into the laundry. He carefully adjusts Masahiro so that he’s in bed properly, a blanket covering his body. The lights are turned off, and Kousuke crawls into bed next to him. He doesn’t go to sleep yet, though – he lights a cigarette and sits in the dark, listening to Masahiro’s light snores against the sounds of night traffic.
He resolves to make Masahiro a nice breakfast in bed for the morning.
~|~
“Kousuke, this is awfully nice of you,” Masahiro says, eyeing the plated omelet in his lap.
“I can be sweet just like you.”
Masahiro’s sitting up in bed. He’s still wearing his t-shirt from last night, though it should’ve probably been thrown in the laundry with the rest of their clothes from the night. Kousuke’s dressed for the day already, having woken up early to prepare Masahiro’s dish and recover from their session with another cigarette.
Masahiro slowly starts eating. Kousuke can tell he’s sore, judging by the paced movements. He lets Masahiro eat a bit before speaking.
“Hey, Masa-“
“Kousuke,” he interrupts, “Did you- Did you mean it?”
“Mean what?” Kousuke sits on the side of the bed next to where Masahiro’s legs lay underneath the blanket. After Masahiro’s breakfast, he’s drawn a bath for him to relax in while Kousuke prepares his work for the day. Kousuke already cleaned off in his time while Masahiro slept.
“Erm- nevermind-“
“Oh.” Kousuke realizes what Masahiro means. “Well, yes, I did mean it. Did you?”
“I- I think so. Yes, I did.”
“I’m surprised you remember. You seemed really tipsy last night.”
“You sobered me with that question.”
Kousuke chuckles. “So, when I call you my wife now, I’m not just saying it. I mean it.”
Masahiro blushes. “You actually want to marry me?”
“Don’t sound so surprised.”
Kousuke leans over and kisses Masahiro. Halfway done, Masahiro sets his food on the side table, returning Kousuke’s kiss with his hands on Kousuke’s neck.
“Kou- I-“ Masahiro says in-between kisses, and Kousuke pulls back. Masahiro continues, “I- uh- I don’t know if I can do much today.”
“What do you mean?”
“Erm, I’m really sore.”
Kousuke smirks, shaking his head. “I’m sorry, Masa, I went too hard, didn’t I?”
“No, I enjoyed it, I promise, I just- I need more rest, I think.”
“Let me know if there’s anything I can do for you. I’ve prepared you a bath for when you’re ready. I can help you if you want.”
Masahiro’s blush is in full force, his ears red. Kousuke can hardly believe that he’d still be shy considering last night, but that’s his Masahiro. Always cautious, always beautiful.
Kousuke stands, but he’s stopped by Masahiro gripping his sleeve. “Kousuke, I love you.”
The warm feeling in his chest is back. His stomach feels heavy. His heart is fluttering. He could not be more ecstatic to know that this is the body that will greet him day in and day out, from now until forever.
“I love you, too, Masa.”