When Watanuki closes his eyes he sees a pool of red and a child’s still eyes. He tries not to close his eyes, but it’s three in the morning and he’s exhausted. They’re walking, each step bringing him closer to his apartment and blessed oblivion, but movement alone isn’t enough to keep his eyes from slipping shut every few minutes. It’d been raining since earlier that afternoon, and they’re the only people on the street – most, the sane ones, the ones that don’t work for Yuuko, are tucked away inside their homes, safe and dry.

Water soaked through his clothing, drenching him to the skin. The patter of water on the sidewalks reminds him of the ghost child’s crying. It’d been raining when he first met her, just a few days ago. He’d thought she’d been just another ghost, just another dead child trying to find her parents. He should have realized it was something different when Yuuko took interest.

His eyelids droop and he stumbles. There were red droplets on the flowers outside her room, a broken doll clutched in her hands. He remembers the frills on her white dress, delicate lace stained red around her chest. The police had questioned them, though not for long, only until the detective – Yuuko’s most recent client – had found them and sent them home. Watanuki still doesn’t fully understand why it turned out that way.

One ghost, two dead girls. They were sisters. Both still children, under the age of seven. He’d just stood there, watching the ghost watch her sister die. Yuuko had warned him, but in the end it was… hitsuzen.

That didn’t make Watanuki feel any better.

A drop of rain ran over his nose, startling him back to the present. The girl ghost is still with him. He can feel her, skipping along the pavement just a few feet behind them, but he can’t see her. She’s not alone. He can’t see any of them but now that he knows one is there, he can’t help but notice all of them. The air reeks of ghosts, so thick it almost chokes him. He knows why they’re following him.

If it weren’t for Doumeki’s hand in his own, he wouldn’t make it home.

Neither of them spoke. He didn’t question why Doumeki had taken Watanuki’s hand in his own. He’d learned not to question a lot of things when Yuuko was involved, and as much as he might hate Doumeki, it was comforting to not be alone. He’s pretty sure Yuuko planned it that way.

Shadows danced between the street lamps, jumping from post to post in a macabre dance. If he were less naïve he might think the shadows were just a coincidence but he knows better. There is no coincidence and street lamps aren’t the only things that cast shadows around Watanuki.

The wind was starting to pick up, rattling the awnings of the shops they passed.

A child’s voice sang out in front of them. “Tooryanse, tooryanse…”

Watanuki froze. His fingers tightened around Doumeki’s but the song didn’t stop.

“Koko wa doko no hosomichi ja?”

“What’s wrong?” It was hard to hear Doumeki over the wind.

Watanuki stared at the dark street ahead. Doumeki repeated himself.

“There are voices,” Watanuki answered slowly. He shouldn’t be hearing anything with Doumeki this close. That was why they held hands. Doumeki was supposed to keep the ghosts away.

“Chitto tooshite kudashanse…”

Watanuki took a step forward. It was too dark to see much beyond the street lamps, but he knew this area. There was a park just ahead. His apartment building was still two blocks away. He could hear swings creaking as they were pushed by the wind. White lights danced just beyond the edge of the road.

“We need to get inside.” Watanuki tugged on Doumeki’s hand.

“Alright.”

“Iki wa yoi, yoi…”

Doumeki kept pace with him, though he could probably have outpaced Watanuki easily. Even on his best day, which this was not, Watanuki was no athlete. He slipped on the wet streets but each time he started to fall, Doumeki pulled him upright.

“Kaeri wa kowai…”

Watanuki shivered, though not from the cold. Doumeki released his hand and the street disappeared. Children laughed, almost drowning out a deep, rumbling growl. He tasted sulfur on his tongue as his throat closed off. The pavement was rising up to swallow him. It cracked around him. Beneath the road was a mountain of broken dolls.

“Watanuki.”

Rain hit him like a cold shower. He coughed to clear his throat. Black slime fell from his mouth and slithered down the road.

“Come on.” Doumeki’s arm was around his waist, his other hand now holding Watanuki’s.

The children’s song grew louder as they ran, laughter echoing in the pounding rain. Watanuki’s attention slipped in and out of focus. One minute they were still on the street, and then the rain was gone. Bright light blinded him after being in the darkness for so long. There were stairs and then Doumeki was asking for his keys.

Watanuki fumbled with the lock. The keys shook in his hand and he almost considered giving Doumeki his keys. A hand settled over his own, steadying it. Paper fluttered around them as the door opened, crinkling under their feet. They toed off their shoes before stepping further into the apartment. Water dripped from their clothing, blurring the ink on the ofuda on the floor.

Wind roared outside the apartment. Two more ofuda fell from the wall. He almost asked to spend the night at the Doumeki’s shrine but the thought of leaving the apartment terrified him.

Doumeki shut and locked the door. His gaze stayed on the fallen papers for a moment. “I’ll put more up before I leave.”

Words stuck in Watanuki’s throat. He shivered again.

Doumeki turned towards him, his expression blank. “Do you have some dry clothes I can borrow?”

“Y-yeah.” His teeth chattered. The apartment was cold, or maybe that was just him.

Watanuki flipped on the bedroom light as he passed. He pulled out a drawer, digging through it until he pulled out a pair of over-sized sweatpants and large t-shirt, tossing both garments to Doumeki before retrieving a set for himself.

“Thanks.”

Watanuki didn’t turn. He stepped into the bathroom, leaving the door open so that Doumeki could join him. He kept his eyes on the wall as he pulled off his shirt. The wet fabric went over the edge of the bathtub to dry. He heard Doumeki step in behind him. Watanuki pulled a towel off the rack and handed it back to Doumeki. Their fingers brushed. Watanuki pulled away quickly and reached down to unfasten his pants.

Fabric touched Watanuki’s bare shoulders and he jumped. “What-”

“You need to dry off.” He could feel Doumeki’s hands through the towel, moving over his shoulders and down his back.

So do you, he wanted to say, but his mouth didn’t want to form the words. He’d almost forgotten what it was like to be dry. Warmth spread from his back, chasing away a bit of the fear. It wasn’t enough.

The towel was draped over his shoulders. Doumeki shifted forward, his chest pressing against Watanuki’s back. There were no dead children when Watanuki closed his eyes this time. Doumeki’s breath tickled the hair on his neck. Two hands reached around, pushing Watanuki’s away to unbutton his pants. The zipper slid down quietly.

“Doumeki…”

“It’s okay,” Doumeki whispered.

Wet fabric stuck to Watanuki’s skin. Hands slipped into his pants, peeling the fabric away and pushing it down. The towel moved from his shoulders to his waist. Doumeki knelt behind him as he dried off Watanuki’s legs.

“Doumeki,” he tried again, “what…”

Lips pressed against his hip.

“Oh.”

Suddenly, it all made sense. “That’s why… the blood…”

The towel moved back up his skin and around, passing briefly up his thigh and over his chest.

“So you finally noticed.” Doumeki’s voice was in his ear. Lips pressed against Watanuki’s neck.

Watanuki stared down at the wet tile. There were no coincidences. This… this was fate. With the realization came a sense of freedom. He forgot about the storm outside. Watanuki turned.

He reached up to touch Doumeki’s cheek. His thumb touched the corner of Doumeki’s lips. “I don’t want to be alone tonight,” he admitted softly.

Arms around his waist drew him closer. His skin pressed against wet fabric.

Doumeki leaned down. “I wasn’t planning on leaving.”

Their lips touched. The world froze, just for a second. Then Doumeki shifted, his lips parting, opening Watanuki’s mouth along with his own. Watanuki had never kissed a man before. He’d never kissed anyone, not like this. Doumeki’s tongue felt strange in his mouth, but it was a strangeness he could get used to.

Watanuki’s hands moved to the collar of Doumeki’s shirt, fumbling slightly with the buttons, but they popped open for him after a few brief tries. The shirt joined Watanuki’s over the bathtub. He took the towel from Doumeki, kept his eyes focused on Doumeki’s chest as he ran the fabric over Doumeki’s skin. Wet fabric hit the floor again, Doumeki’s pants this time, and he took the towel away from Watanuki to briskly run it down his own legs. Watanuki couldn’t help but stare. He was blushing, but he couldn’t really bring himself to care.

“Come.” Doumeki’s hand closed around Watanuki’s and he pulled, flicking off the bathroom light as they stepped into the bedroom. At least his room was neat, Watanuki thought. The futon was already laid out, his laundry piled neatly in a basket in the corner.

Doumeki pulled back the sheets, then started rifling through Watanuki’s bedside table.

“What-”

Doumeki slid the drawer shut and held up a bottle of lotion. The blush on Watanuki’s face spread, turning his ears a light pink. An arm circled his waist. Doumeki sat, pulling Watanuki with him.

Watanuki was lost. “Do you…” He stared across the room, not even sure what he should be asking. “What do you…”

“It’s okay,” Doumeki said. He helped Watanuki lean back against the sheets. It felt strange being naked in bed, probably less strange than it should feel considering he was naked in bed with Doumeki.

Doumeki knelt over him, looking down at him for a long moment before he leaned in for another kiss. At least with this, Watanuki knew what to expect. He opened his mouth, letting Doumeki inside without question. Watanuki was tired and awake at the same time. His limbs felt heavy, his mind alert. He was glad he was already lying down, and he hoped he could stay lying down for a while.

“It’s okay,” Doumeki repeated against Watanuki’s cheek, softer this time.

Hand slid down his sides and around to his knees, lifting them apart and rearranging them until his legs were around Doumeki’s hips. He heard the cap pop off the lotion. Doumeki’s lips distracted him, and kept him distracted until one slick finger pressed against his entrance then slid inside.

Watanuki arched. “It hurts.” He could feel his nails digging into Doumeki’s skin.

“It’s okay. Breathe. Relax. It’s okay.”

He exhaled into Doumeki’s kiss, breathed against his cheek. Doumeki waited. One hand slid along the underside of Watanuki’s leg, the slow caress working almost as much as Doumeki’s whispered words to bring Watanuki’s back down onto the futon. He exhaled and the pain lessened.

“That’s it,” Doumeki whispered. His finger moved, slowly, and Watanuki tried to stay relaxed. It was hard. “Breathe.”

He breathed, dragging in long lungfuls of air as Doumeki touched inside of him. First one finger, then two, and more. Somewhere between breaths the pain had changed and it didn’t hurt so much anymore. Doumeki’s finger pressed inside of him. He shivered, legs twitching against Doumeki’s hips.

Then, the hand was gone and Doumeki was kissing him again, his lips pausing on Watanuki’s mouth and then moving off to press kisses against his cheek, along his neck, and down to his shoulder. Hands move Watanuki’s hips, lifting slightly, and then Doumeki was pressing inside. He moved slowly, whispering encouragement in Watanuki’s ear. Watanuki breathed and relaxed as Doumeki slid into him.

“It’s okay.”

“I know,” Watanuki answered. He wrapped his arms around Doumeki’s shoulders and held tight.

It felt good, more than he would have imagined. He understood now what it meant to be lovers, maybe even what it meant to love. Even if there was pain involved, it was worth it to be like this, to be loved.

“Let go,” Doumeki whispered against his neck, following the words with soft kisses and the barest touch of teeth. Watanuki knew Doumeki wasn’t referring to his arms around Doumeki’s neck.

Doumeki’s hand slid down his stomach, sending butterflies dancing along Watanuki’s nerves and that was almost enough, just that. But Doumeki’s hand kept going, his hips kept thrusting into Watanuki, over and over, a heady slide of flesh on flesh that made Watanuki’s skin burn.

Fingers curled around his erection, Doumeki’s fingers. They moved, stroking up as Doumeki pushed inside, pulling down as Doumeki slid out until the tip of Doumeki’s cock was barely inside of him. It was maddening, but madness was something Watanuki had experience in.

Doumeki pushed inside and Watanuki let go. He arched his back, limbs tightening around Doumeki as he came. Doumeki’s shoulder muffled his cry, just as Watanuki’s mouth muffled Doumeki’s own minutes later.

Watanuki felt hot and sticky and entirely disinclined to moved. He closed his eyes, already halfway to sleep as Doumeki slid out of him. His fingers brushed against Doumeki’s as the other stood and moved away.

The sun rose to a clear sky the next morning. Sunlight on his face woke Watanuki, but it was the arms around him and the warm body pressed against his back that kept him in bed. The night had passed without him noticing. No nightmares had disturbed his sleep, no ghostly voices chased him in his dreams.

His rivalry with Doumeki had dissolved. The world didn’t end, but something new had definitely begun.

The song is “Tooryanse”, a Japanese equivalent of the “London Bridge” children’s rhyme. More information is available here. The phrases quoted above translate as follows:

Tooryanse, tooryanse = Let me pass, let me pass

Koko wa doko no hosomichi ja? = What is this narrow pathway here?

Chitto tooshite kudashanse = Please allow me to pass

Iki wa yoi yoi, kaeri wa kowai = Going in may be fine, fine, but returning would be scary

Iruka’s fingers curl in the sheets, wrinkling the fabric, bunching it up under his fists, but that’s all he can do with his hands pinned to the bed. Two hands, slightly larger than his, hold him down by his wrists. He’s trapped, mostly. There are sixteen jutsu he can think of to use in this position, four of which aren’t easily countered, one of which he thinks Kakashi might not actually know. But he doesn’t want to escape.

Kakashi’s legs are pressed tight against his thighs, his knees keeping Iruka’s legs spread, ass in the air. It was hard to breathe, not only because Iruka was biting the pillow muffle his voice – he was loud when sex was this good, and the neighbors complained – but also because of the way Kakashi moved. No one, absolutely no one, had ever made Iruka feel this good.

He shouldn’t be here. They shouldn’t be doing this. The irony of it made him want to cry. He did cry, but the tears were from an entirely different emotion.

Maybe it was just some sort of early mid-life crisis. At best, he would have said that he and Hatake Kakashi were casual acquaintances. It would have been a stretch to call them friends, and yet here they were, with Iruka face-down on his bed and Kakashi’s cock shoved so far inside of him he could taste it on his tongue. Or maybe that was just an after effect of their foreplay. Nothing got a man into bed faster than a blow job that ended in a teasing smile and the question “your place or mine?”

Open house didn’t usually affect him this badly. He was used to being around other people’s children, but this was the first year that so many of the parents were familiar to him. He’d gone to school with most of them, played pranks on half of them, slept with a few of them. Never before had he been so reminded of what he could have had, if things had been slightly different. If he’d been different.

“No more thinking.”

He didn’t have to ask how Kakashi knew. It didn’t take a genius to figure out what a single, gay school-teacher who loved children would be depressed over after an event that reminded him exactly what he could never have. It didn’t take a genius, but he had one anyways.

Kakashi shifted forward, pushing Iruka’s hands farther over his head. The pillow slipped out from beneath him. His loud moan sounded strangely obscene as it broke the near-silence of the room. Kakashi rolled his hips, lifting Iruka with each movement. He wasn’t going to be able to move tomorrow, but he couldn’t bring himself to mind.

“Wait,” Iruka gasped. His breath came out ragged, punctuated by loud cries every time Kakashi slammed his hips forward at just the right angle. “Pillow…” He needed… he needed to do something about his voice.

“No,” Kakashi countered, and pushed his legs further up the bed, sliding them both forward. The pillow pressed against his chest, too far down for him to reach without using his hands.

He was going to come. He’d been close for a while, but something about the sound of his own voice and the weight of Kakashi’s hands over his set his nerves on edge.

“Please… Ah! The… the neighbors…”

“Let them hear.”

His voice raised another octave as Kakashi brought his hands together, shifting both of Iruka’s wrists into one hand. The other paused briefly on his hip, first tracing the curve of his ass then slipping around to take him in hand. Sweat slicked Kakashi’s palm as it closed around him, squeezing around the base of his erection and then stroking down to the tip.

“No.” Iruka was trembling. He pressed his forehead against the mattress but there wasn’t anything he could do to keep his voice down. There was nothing in reach to bite, nothing he could use to keep his mouth shut. “Please.”

Something heavy banged against the opposite wall, rattling the picture frames hung there.

Iruka groaned. His landlord had already threatened to kick him out if the neighbors kept complaining.

“Oh, god.” He felt like he was burning up. Kakashi burned inside of him, spreading heat like molten fire through Iruka’s veins. “Please. Please.”

“You deserve to be happy.”

Kakashi leaned forward, pressing against Iruka’s back and nearly shoving him flat against the mattress. He was so deep, so far inside. Wet lips pressed against his shoulder, just below his neck, followed by the faint press of a tongue. Kakashi’s lips widened on his skin. He felt teeth. Iruka came as Kakashi bit down, not hard enough to draw blood but enough to leave a mark.

The entire building probably heard him scream.

Kakashi’s mouth kept moving as his hips slowed, teeth sliding down Iruka’s shoulder to leave a trail of bite marks in their wake. His hands were released. Kakashi held him steady while he rode off the last of his orgasm, hips striking erratically before finally stilling. He could feel Kakashi’s seed dripping down his thighs to leave wet streaks on the sheets.

It took Iruka a moment before he could move his hands. Even without Kakashi holding them down, it still felt like they were pinned there. His skin tingled where Kakashi had held his wrists. That was another set of marks he’d have in the morning.

He slid his hands down until they were in a more comfortable position, palms flat on either side of his head. Kakashi was still inside him, though no longer pressed against his back. Neither of them seemed in a hurry to move.

Iruka closed his eyes and waited for his breathing to level out. It didn’t take long, though Kakashi already sounded recovered as Iruka started to breathe normally again.

“Thank you,” he said finally.

Fingers trailed down his spine. He could feel Kakashi watching him.

“I think I’m the one that should be thanking you. If I had known you were this good in bed, I would have propositioned you sooner. I guess it’s true what they say about repressed schoolteachers.”

Iruka couldn’t help but laugh at that. He wondered how many ‘repressed schoolteachers’ were featured in the book series Kakashi was always carrying around. “Technically, I was the one that propositioned you.”

Kakashi’s weight settled over him again. The jounin’s forearms formed a triangle over his head. Lips pressed against his hair briefly. “Yet another reason I should be thanking you.”

He felt like he should be justifying himself, or at least asking if Kakashi wanted to stay the night. He’d have to change the sheets before they could actually sleep, and a shower wouldn’t be bad either.

“Kakashi, I…”

“Shh.” Another kiss settled on the back of his head. “I understand.”

“But, I…”

“You know,” Kakashi cut him off. He shifted slightly, the motion reminding Iruka how closely they were still joined. “You don’t have to be married to have a family.”

He couldn’t hide the bitterness in his laugh. “That’s the way most people do it.”

“Well, you’re not most people. And you’ve already got a really great kid.”

“What-”

“Naruto.”

Realization struck him speechless.

“And,” Kakashi continued, “if you’re taking applications for a future husband, I’d be glad to apply.” He rolled his hips pointedly. “I think my credentials speak for themselves.”

Iruka lifted his hand slightly to twine his fingers with Kakashi’s. It wasn’t what it could have been, but he had the feeling it would be enough.

Faint touches across his stomach brought Hiroki slowly awake. He mumbled a soft protest and started to troll away. He didn’t get very far. Hiroki blearily opened one eye and glanced upwards. His hands seemed to be stuck. Both eyes opened as he failed to tug his hands free of whatever was holding them.

“Nowaki!”

Some sort of smooth rope bound his hands to the headboard. It didn’t really hurt, but it was tight enough to keep his wrists still. He couldn’t even tell where the knot was to try and undo it.

“Yes?” Nowaki’s voice sounded close, just over his shoulder.

The hand on his stomach moved upwards, palm pressing lightly against his stomach and over his ribs to stop just below his heart. He wondered if Nowaki could feel his heart rate increasing. His face was already heating. He needed Nowaki to untie him, now. Carefully, Hiroki shifted onto his side.

“What are you doing?”

Bare skin pressed against Hiroki’s back. “Is something wrong?” Warm breath ghosted over his shoulder, followed almost immediately by the press of moist lips.

Hiroki tugged on the ropes again. “Untie me.” His blush was slowly spreading across his face.

Nowaki’s tongue traced a line from shoulder to ear as he shifted to kneel between Hiroki’s knees. The press of skin on skin distracted Hiroki momentarily. It felt good, in a way he’d never mention out loud, not in a million years. Still, if he spread his legs slightly to give Nowaki more room it was only because he didn’t want Nowaki’s weight entirely on his legs.

He could hear Nowaki chuckling softly. He opened his mouth to protest. Nowaki’s tongue got in the way. Hiroki’s eyes closed reflexively. His arms twitched in their bonds, and for once he was somewhat grateful for them, since otherwise he would have been doing something very unmanly – namely wrapping his arms around Nowaki’s shoulders and very possibly exploring exactly how far Nowaki’s tongue could go down his throat. As it was, Nowaki was kissing rather enthusiastically, even without Hiroki’s help. He barely even noticed as hands slipped under his knees, pulling them up so that his bent legs framed Nowaki’s body.

Something soft slid between his calf and thigh, wrapping around his leg just below the knee.

Nowaki’s grin should have been warning enough. He broke off the kiss, licking his lips with a far-too-smug look on his face as he sat back. Hiroki’s eyes widened as he glanced down at the rope around his knee, just in time to watch Nowaki pull it tight. He couldn’t move his leg. It was bent double, his foot bare inches away from his hip. Nowaki tugged on the rope, forcing Hiroki’s leg up to his chest as he wrapped the free end of the rope around the headboard and…

Hiroki belatedly realized he should be struggling.

“No! Stop that! Let me go!”

It was hard to move like this. He could shift a bit, side-to-side, but even that got harder as Nowaki finished securing the rope above Hiroki’s head. He got in one awkward, badly-angled kick to Nowaki’s side before a hand closed around his ankle, forcing his foot flat on the mattress while Nowaki repeated the binding process with his other leg. Rope slid along his skin, gradually tightening until the hand on his ankle was no longer needed.

Angry, incoherent screams filled the apartment. Nowaki ignored him, pausing only after his knee was tightly bound to reach over the side of the bed and grab something from the floor. Curiosity slowed Hiroki’s tongue for a brief moment as Nowaki sat back up with something black held in his hand with two ribbon-like edges hanging down. Fingers cupped his chin, digging in slightly, not enough to hurt, but enough to let Nowaki hold his mouth open long enough to drop the object in his mouth. The round whatever-it-was forced his jaw apart. He tasted rubber on his tongue as Nowaki’s fingers slid under his head and he heard something snap into place.

Hiroki’s scream of outrage was barely muffled by the gag.

His other leg was lifted and tied off in a similar fashion, leaving Hiroki mostly immobile on the bed, legs forced apart and hanging in the air. He was naked. Nowaki was naked, interest standing proud and tall as the younger man sat back on his heels, eyes roving greedily over the figure before him.

Hiroki had never been more embarrassed in his life. If shame alone could make a man burst into fire, the apartment would have been alight. He was glad he wasn’t on fire, since the last thing he wanted – besides the destruction of his precious books – was someone finding his charred corpse still tied up like this.

“Do you have any idea how good you look like this?” He’d never seen Nowaki look this turned on.

The gag muffled Hiroki’s angry reply. His face was bright red, and the rest of him wasn’t many shades off.

Nowaki leaned to the side again, this time returning with a very familiar tube of lubrication, it’s end already curled over halfway up to the cap. Clear gel pooled on Nowaki’s fingers. Hiroki couldn’t help but shiver as he thought about where those fingers were going to go.

“Impatient?” A fingertip pressed along the side of Hiroki’s erection, running up and down once before brushing over the tip.

He shuddered, and glared.

Nowaki set the open tube on the mattress not far from Hiroki’s head. He shifted forward, knees brushing against Hiroki’s feet as his hand reached down. A slick fingertip pressed against Hiroki’s entrance, not moving in but rubbing slight circles around the edge, spreading lubrication around the rim of his anus.

“I’m sorry, Hiro-san, but I’m afraid you have to wait a little longer.”

The smile on Nowaki’s face made him shiver. There was a mischievous quirk to it that he’d never seen before, and a bit of teasing.

Nowaki’s finger curled, slowly pushing his fingertip inside. It felt more invasive than normal, like they were doing this for the first time. The gag muffled moans as well as it did screams. He closed his eyes. If it was going to be like this, he’d rather not see the way Nowaki was looking at him, like he was going to eat Hiroki up at the first chance. The finger pressed inside, sliding in centimeter by slow centimeter and Hiroki realized the flaw in his plan. Without his surroundings to distract him, Hiroki was left focusing solely on Nowaki’s touch.

He was going to die before Nowaki even got inside of him.

Nowaki’s free hand moved behind his head, unfastening the gag enough that Hiroki could push it out with his tongue.

“You’d better-” The rest of his sentence was cut off as Nowaki crooked his finger, pressing directly against his prostate.

Hiroki’s head rolled back. He refused to believe the obscene moan that filled the room came from him.

The finger drew out slowly.

“Yes?” Nowaki practically purred. One day, Hiroki would have his revenge for this. He wasn’t sure what, but it would be devious and underhanded and probably not half as sexy as this was.

“U-” His jaw ached slightly from being held open. He licked his lips and tried again. “Untie me.”

“Aren’t you enjoying this? I know I am.”

Hiroki shivered as the finger slid back inside. He was going to go mad if Nowaki didn’t give him more soon.

“P-” Hiroki bit his lip to cut off the word. He refused to beg. He still had some pride left.

“What’s wrong, Hiro-san? You aren’t enjoying it?” The finger slid out.

“I…”

The finger was pulled out. A second joined it to circle his anus. Hiroki moaned softly and waited, nerves on edge, expecting the fingers to press in together, spreading him just a bit wider and getting them closer to the ultimate goal.

They kept circling.

“Do you want something, Hiro-san?”

Hiroki’s mouth flapped ineffectually. He stared.

Nowaki’s grin nearly split his face. “Well?”

Around and around. The fingers never altered, sometimes brushing slightly closer to the center but continually moving in a circle where he didn’t want them.

“What do you want, Hiro-san?”

He knew exactly how stubborn Nowaki could be, and tied up like this he had little choice but to give in. It was that or wait, and he didn’t think he could last that long, not without going truly insane.

“I-i-inside.”

“Inside what?”

Hiroki closed his eyes. He refused to look at Nowaki as he said it. He couldn’t look at Nowaki, not without having more embarrassing things spill out.

“I-inside me.”

He could almost hear the laugh Nowaki was trying to hold back. Hiroki snapped. His eyes opened and he glared pure death at his lover. “Put your goddamn fingers inside of me now. Or, better yet, just hurry up and fuck me so I can get out of this mess.”

“We’ve still got a long way to go before the fucking,” Nowaki purred, but his fingers slid inside, not nearly as satisfying as Hiroki hoped they would be. His mind kept jumping ahead to the end. He knew what he wanted and Nowaki was still toying with him.

The two fingers moved faster than the first had, but it was still agonizingly slow for Hiroki, and over far too soon. His skin felt like it was stretched tight. If he got any tenser, he was likely to snap in half and Nowaki really wasn’t helping. It was hard to breathe between the tiny gasps and moans that Nowaki kept drawing from him. Each time he thought he’d caught a decent lung full of air, Nowaki would move his fingers just so, just enough to wring another embarrassing sound from Hiroki’s lips.

His fingers pulled out, running briefly over his balls and circling the base of his neglected cock before following the same path back down to press just the first knuckle inside. Nowaki stopped his hand there and wiggled his fingers slightly.

“Now what?” Nowaki asked.

Hiroki didn’t hesitate. “More. I need more inside of me.”

“More of what?”

He groaned in frustration, shifting his hips slightly as he tried to lift them, tried to move closer to Nowaki or to anything that would get him closer to relief.

“More of you. Ple-” Hiroki cut himself off with a frustrated groan.

Three fingers pressed in, but it wasn’t nearly enough. Hiroki moaned, twitching restlessly against his bonds. He could feel release pooling in his stomach, stirring faintly through his groin, but it was still too far off. Too little stimulation, and he was going to start begging soon if he didn’t get more.

Breath caressed Hiroki’s cheek and he looked up into his lover’s face, scant inches from his own.

“What do you want me to do?”

Were Nowaki’s eyes always that dark? Nowaki licked his lips and leaned a fraction closer, brushing just slightly against Hiroki’s lips. Hiroki met him half-way. His neck twinged in pain as he leaned up but it was worth it to feel solid lips against his own, even more worth it as Nowaki’s tongue returned to the inside of his mouth. Nowaki pressed down on top of him, his weight causing the ropes on Hiroki’s legs to tighten painfully but he didn’t mind, not when Nowaki’s erection slid over his own.

Nowaki thrust lazily against Hiroki’s stomach, his fingers matching the speed of his hips, pressing inside with the same gentle rhythm. His moans were swallowed in Nowaki’s mouth. He shook beneath Nowaki’s touch.

“What do you want?” Nowaki asked against Hiroki’s parted lips.

Need won over pride. “Please,” Hiroki begged. “Please.” He leaned up to catch one more brief kiss. “Please. Fuck me. Please…”

Nowaki’s fingers pulled out and he ran his palm up over Hiroki’s erection, rubbing against it for a few short strokes before his hand moved down to lightly fondle his balls. Hiroki didn’t bother to hide his moans.

“Please,” he repeated.

Nowaki moved, though not in the direction Hiroki had expected. His knees pressed into the mattress on either side of Hiroki’s chest, one arm braced against the headboard as he leaned forward, cock in hand. The tip pressed against Hiroki’s lips.

“Will you get me ready?”

Hiroki only hesitated a second before opening his mouth. Nowaki’s length slipped between his lips and he closed his mouth around it, licking greedily. A bit of saliva spilled onto his lips as Nowaki started to move slowly, riding Hiroki’s mouth in a foreshadowing of what he would soon be doing to a lower part of Hiroki’s anatomy. Above him, he could hear faint hitches of breath, obvious signs of Nowaki’s enjoyment.

He made a mental note to do this more often. Hiroki was normally too embarrassed to use his mouth but a little embarrassment might be worth it, now and then, if this was the kind of noise Nowaki made.

All too soon, Nowaki pulled away, sliding out of Hiroki’s mouth with obvious regret. Still, Hiroki didn’t regret it that much when Nowaki finally positioned himself, wet tip resting just over Hiroki’s entrance. Nowaki pushed back on Hiroki’s knees as he thrust forward, forcing Hiroki’s ass higher in the air as he was impaled.

Hiroki screamed in pleasure. His legs were shaking in Nowaki’s hands. Nowaki started off slow, taking his time pushing in and pulling out, wringing sounds of pleasure from Hiroki with each movement.

“How do you want it, Hiroki-san? How do you want me to fuck you?”

He had a choice. There was only one way he wanted it. “Hard. Please. Please, Nowaki. Please do me harder. Ahh. Fuck me.”

Nowaki didn’t have to be told twice.

The bed moved as he surged forward, slamming into Hiroki with all the force he could muster. Hiroki’s wrists tapped against the wall as they moved. Nowaki hit deep inside of him, hands spreading his legs apart so that Nowaki could push in deeper still. It hurt, but the pleasure outweighed the pain. Hiroki’s cries drowned out the slap of skin on skin and the banging of the bed against the wall, his voice growing loader each time Nowaki slammed inside of him.

“So… gorgeous…” Nowaki groaned above him, eyes half-closed and breathing shallow.

“Please,” was all Hiroki could say. He was begging and he couldn’t bring himself to care, not when it got him this.

“Come for me, Hiroki-san,” Nowaki asked. “Come for me,” and he did, seed spurting between them in thick white lines. He screamed.

Nowaki didn’t stop. Climax faded, leaving Hiroki’s nerves raw and overstimulated. He could feel each thrust all the way up his spine. He still tasted Nowaki in the back of his throat.

“I love you, Hiroki-san.”

His mouth moved before he could think about what he was saying. “I love you, too.”

Nowaki slammed forward hard enough to shove Hiroki’s head almost against the headboard. Liquid dripped down Hiroki’s ass as Nowaki finally slowed, thrusting a few more times before coming to a stop. They were both breathing erratically, gazes locked on one another as they calmed down from their emotional high.

The ropes attached to the headboard were slowly untied. Nowaki’s hands massaged each leg as they were lowered to the mattress, nerves prickling at the change in position.

“Did you like that?” Nowaki asked as the last of the rope was dropped off of the bed.

Hiroki highly doubted he’d be able to walk tomorrow, let alone get out of bed. He put the cap back on the lube and tossed it with the ropes.

“Next time,” Hiroki said slowly, “I get to tie you up.”

He’d never seen Nowaki look so happy. “Deal.”

Previous Chapter

The door shut silently behind Ulquiorra, sealing Ichigo in the tiny room with an insanely grinning arrancar. It felt like a tomb. His tomb. Ulquiorra had said they were going to keep him alive, that they intended to break him, to make him serve the arrancar but with Grimmjow…. He didn’t think Grimmjow cared about any of that.

There were bruises on his ankles from where Grimmjow had held him, already starting to darken into the shape of hands.

“You liked that, didn’t you, you little slut.”

Ichigo’s tongue froze in his mouth. There was no way he could respond to that, not with his own come still wet on his chest.

“You won’t like this,” Grimmjow promised as he shifted forward on the bed, moving to position himself between Ichigo’s still-spread thighs.

Chain rattled as Ichigo started to shift away, but he didn’t get far. Grimmjow’s hand covered his face, pressing too-hard against Ichigo’s nose as he shoved the Shinigami’s head back hard into the rock wall behind him. Pain sent sparks across his vision and kept him still while the ropes around his wrists were snapped apart. He heard more than saw Grimmjow grab the chain and pull, extra length magically pulling away from the wall to lay slack in the arrancar’s hands.

“This isn’t going to be the last time I spread you open, Ichigo. You’re ours now, our filthy manwhore, ripe for the fucking.”

The words sunk slowly into Ichigo’s brain. He turned his head to stare at the arrancar, disbelief and dread warring in his head. Grimmjow grinned and tightened his fingers around Ichigo’s head. Air slid over his face as he was pulled forward and then, just as quickly, the motion reversed. He thought he heard something crack as he hit the wall again. He probably had a concussion.

White walls spun around him to the tune of chain rattling. He was being turned over and he couldn’t do anything to stop it. He could barely see, let alone fight back. Cold air passed along his back. Fingertips trailed across his shoulders and stopped just over his left shoulder before pressed down into the skin. Ichigo screamed as sharp nails drew deep, bloody furrows from shoulder to waist, the pain waking him enough to struggle feebly. A hand on his neck held him down as Grimmjow repeated the process on his other shoulder, then down his spine.

Ichigo bucked, forcing his hips up to try and get Grimmjow off of him but that only earned him a stinging slap across his ass. The hand on his neck slid up to tangle in his hair. Grimmjow’s fingers ran across his back, sending shivers of pain through Ichigo’s body. His head was turned, forcing him to look up at the arrancar as he brought his bloody fingers into Ichigo’s view. Crimson drops fell to Ichigo’s cheek and rolled down like tears.

“You’re our little slut now. Ours, until you give in, and then, even after. I’m going to fuck you, fuck you until you bleed, fuck you until you pass out and when you wake up, it’ll be to my cock still inside of you, riding you until you’re raw.”

The arrancar leaned forward slightly, sucking his fingers clean of blood before leaning down to lick the rivulets off of Ichigo’s face.

He closed his eyes, and shivered, pretending it was from the pain.

“If you don’t behave, we may even let some of the others come and play,” Grimmjow whispered into Ichigo’s ear. “I might even watch as they had you, watch and laugh while the precious little Shinigami spreads his legs for any arrancar that comes knocking. I bet you’d even like it. Some of them might even be nice, like gentle little Ulquiorra. But do you know what, Ichigo?”

He opened his eye but didn’t answer.

“None of them,” Grimmjow told him with a grin, “will hurt like me.”

The hand in his hair yanked his face back around until he was face-down in his pillow. Then, Grimmjow pushed, shoving Ichigo’s face down until he couldn’t see, couldn’t breathe and all he cared about was struggling just enough to get some air. He could feel Grimmjow behind him, feel the arrancar’s weight settle across his thighs.

His head was pulled back too hard as Grimmjow shoved inside. Ichigo screamed, again, his voice echoing off the walls and inside his head. This hurt, worse that Ulquiorra had. Where Ulquiorra had filled him, Grimmjow stretched him, pushing hot and thick inside of Ichigo, splitting him wide open.

“Who do you belong to?” Grimmjow asked.

Ichigo refused to answer.

He tasted cotton on his lips as he was shoved back into the pillow, held down by one hand as Grimmjow pushed one knee higher and slid out. It felt like a sword being pulled from its sheathe and when Grimmjow thrust back in, that was the sword stabbing home, cutting inside of him. His hands slid futilely against the sheets. Even with his strength, he didn’t have enough leverage to fight against Grimmjow’s hold, not with the nail marks on his back making every movement agony, not with Grimmjow shoving himself hard and fast down into Ichigo.

His head was pulled up. There were tears now, tears he’d fought off for so long, but he was too tired now, in too much pain to keep fighting.

“Who do you belong to?”

“No!”

He gasped in one quick breath of air before his head was shoved down again.

“Tell me,” he heard as Grimmjow rocked into him. “Tell me,” he heard as sweat beaded on his skin, stinging as it rolled along the bloody tracks on his back. “Tell me,” he heard as tears and saliva spilt by choked screams dampened the pillow cloth.

Cold air washed over his face.

“Who do you belong to?”

“Please,” he begged.

The air was taken away.

Grimmjow’s hips slammed into him. There would be bruises there, if he survived this, if Grimmjow ever stopped, ever let him breathe. His head swam with lack of oxygen. His body felt heavy, unresponsive. He could still feel Grimmjow inside of him.

The hand in Ichigo’s hair moved away and he rolled his head to take in chocked gasps of air, not caring about the sobs that spilled out between breaths or the way tears fell onto his tongue. Grimmjow used both hands to hold Ichigo’s ass in the air as he shoved forward once, twice, a third time and came, seed burning inside of Ichigo for a brief moment before Grimmjow pulled out. Ichigo was turned, his back scraping painfully against the rough sheets as Grimmjow forced his mouth open and shoved his dick inside. Seed spurted down his throat. He closed his lips and swallowed before the stuff could choke him, knowing better than to try and fight this.

Grimmjow’s teeth shone in the light as he pulled back, cock in hand as he stared at his captive.

A pointed nail ran up the underside of Ichigo’s erection, scratching but not enough to draw blood.

“I guess I was wrong. You did enjoy that.”

Ichigo said nothing. His eyes were drawn down to Grimmjow’s hand as the arrancar slowly pumped himself back to hardness. Ichigo’s eyes widened and he shuddered.

“Who do you belong to?” Grimmjow asked as he pushed Ichigo’s feet over his head, bending him double and leaving his ass open for the arrancar.

Ichigo screamed.

Next Chapter

Touya set the last of the cardboard boxes down with a heavy thud and glared half-heartedly around the room, certain there was something missing or something they’d forgotten that would require another trip out of the apartment. Nothing sprang immediately to mind, but he’d thought similar after their last trip to Yukito’s house, before Yukito remembered the boxes in his kitchen.

“Well, that seems to be everything.” Touya’s father was smiling broadly as he walked into Touya’s new apartment, followed immediately by Touya’s new roommate, Yukito. They both had plastic bags of groceries in their hands, enough food to get Yukito through the night until they could do proper grocery shopping in the morning. “Anything else I can help you boys with?”

Touya’s gaze followed Yukito as the gray-haired man moved around the kitchen, storing the food while munching on a bag of popcorn. As much as he’d like another set of hands unpacking, there were some things he’d rather they were alone for.

“I think we’ll be fine.”

If his father had any idea what Touya was thinking, it didn’t show on his face. Fujitaka’s smile never faltered as he bid them a cheerful goodbye and shut the door behind him.

Silence filled the apartment.

A hand landed on Touya’s shoulder. He turned, wrapping his arms around Yukito as he moved and pulling his lover close.

“Finally. No little sisters, no plushies…” He cupped Yukito lightly under the chin and tilted Yukito’s face up. “Just you,” Touya leaned closer, “and me.”

Their lips touched, hesitantly at first, just a bare press of skin on skin, and then with more certainty as the realization slowly sank in that there would be no interruptions this time.

The door opened. They were a full foot apart by the time Fujitaka’s face appeared.

“Sorry, I forgot to ask… did you boys want to come over for dinner tomorrow? I know how hard it is finding time to cook when you’re just moving in.”

Yukito smiled brightly. “We’d love to, Mr. Kinomoto.”

“Five o’clock?”

“Sounds great.”

Fujitaka waved briefly before leaving again. Touya counted to five in his head before crossing the room and flipping the lock.

Yukito was laughing. “What was that about no more interruptions?”

Touya turned and pounced. They hit the floor laughing and rolled, tussling playfully, switching between Touya pinning Yukito and vice versa. Touya’s back hit the floor and he smiled, a small smile but still more than most could get out of him in public. Yukito straddled his waist, grinning like a lunatic before he leaned down to press their lips together.

“No more interruptions.” The whisper sounded like a promise.

They kissed, this time without any hesitancy. This type of kiss was rare for them, so used to having to break apart at a second’s notice that they rarely got to kiss this deep, tongues entwined, exploring each other’s mouths in extensive detail. Touya was the first to move, reaching up for the buttons of Yukito’s shirt with blatant purpose. It only took Yukito a second to catch on before he started to pull Touya’s t-shirt up around his shoulders.

Yukito leaned back slightly, looking at Touya with mischief in his eyes before leaning back. Touya pulled his t-shirt over his head as Yukito finished off the last of his buttons. Their shirts disappeared, flung off into the maze of boxes littering the room around them. Touya pushed up. Yukito let him, and they rolled again until Yukito was the one with his back to the floor. Their pants took less time that their shirts, but they weren’t really worried about getting those off, just pushing them down enough to free trapped erections.

Small hands brought Touya’s palm to Yukito’s lips and Touya’s eyes widened as the gray-haired boy’s tongue lapped out, leaving a trail of wet saliva along Touya’s palm. The mischievous glint in Yukito’s eyes brightened as he pushed Touya’s hands down between them before licking his own palm. He’d never held another man’s erection in his hand. It was familiar, a lot like his own but different in subtle ways. Yukito’s was slightly smaller, not as wide but maybe a little bit longer and the hair that brushed Touya’s knuckles as his hand reached the base of Yukito’s cock was softer than his own.

The look on Yukito’s face… He doubted that he’d ever forget the way Yukito smiled as Touya touched him, his lips parted slightly, eyes half-lidded. He imagined he had the same look on his face as Yukito’s slender fingers wrapped around him, his grip firm and sure. They kissed slowly, lips touching then parting, erratic breaths falling between them before pressing their mouths together again. Yukito hooked one leg over Touya’s legs, bringing their bodies closer. Their hands brushed, knuckles passing each other. Touya pushed forward, bumping their erections together and did it again. From the way Yukito gasped, he enjoyed it as much as Touya did.

Yukito’s hand tightened around Touya as he came, hot liquid spilling out over Touya’s hand and dribbling down over Yukito’s chest. He didn’t stop, not until Touya felt himself tensing, his breathing coming out harsher even as Yukito’s evened out. Brown eyes stayed fixed intently on Touya until he gasped and came in Yukito’s hand.

They lay quietly on the floor for several minutes until Touya finally moved, groping to the side for his shirt and using the sweat-damp fabric to wipe both their hands clean. He pulled his pants up as he stood, fastening them loosely but not bothering to latch the belt and then reached down to offer a hand to his lover.

“Why don’t we put some of the kitchen stuff away and then we can try out our new bed?”

Yukito smiled widely as he stood, stepping out of his pants rather than putting them back out. “I’d like that.”

Touya couldn’t help but smile as he watched his lover walk naked into the kitchen.

Akira Koiwai glanced at the living room door as Jumbo’s hand slid up his shirt.

“Stop worrying,” Jumbo murmured against his neck, his hand pushing Akira’s shirt higher up his chest. “Isn’t she out?”

“Just next door, but you know how she-”

Lips cut off the rest of his sentence, but they were both thinking the same thing. At any moment they could be faced with four green pigtails and hundreds of questions. Still, it was hard to worry when Jumbo’s tongue was tracing lines across the roof of his mouth. Akira shifted forward slightly in Jumbo’s lap. His arms settled around Jumbo’s neck and he forgot about watching the door.

A loud and sudden bang announced Yotsuba’s entrance into the room. They froze, both of their slack-jaw gazes trained on the little girl in the doorway.

“Whatcha’ doin’?”

Akira looked between Jumbo and his adopted daughter. How to explain? “Ah-um, y-you see-”

Jumbo leaned forward, almost tilting Akira off his lap. One large hand on Akira’s thigh kept him seated, though he might have preferred falling over at this point.

“You see, Yotsuba, Jumbo and your daddy are good friends.”

“Best friends!” Yotsuba chorused. Akira had the sinking feeling that Jumbo had said something to the girl before this.

“Better than best friends,” Jumbo continued. “We’re really close.”

“How close?”

Jumbo’s arm around his waist pulled him closer. Their chests touched. “This close.”

“Ooooh. That’s close.”

“Yeah. Why don’t you run along and play now? Don’t come back for a while.”

“Okay!” The door slammed shut behind her.

The dictionary to the face caught Jumbo by surprise. “Don’t tell her things like that!”

They both landed heavily on the floor. Jumbo’s legs went up as he capsized, knocking Akira forward onto the large man. Laughter rippled through Jumbo’s chest, causing Akira to bounce on top of him.

“She’d figure it out eventually.”

“No! She’ll just get some weird idea.”

Jumbo rolled over, pinning Akira beneath him by weight alone. “We should lock the door.” The man’s lips were back on Akira’s neck and moving lower.

“Have you ever seen Yotsuba with a locked door?”

They both shuddered.

“Then we should…”

Bam! “How long’s a while?”

Akira resisted the urge to groan. They both looked over at the little girl.

Jumbo shifted until he could prop his head on one hand, though he was still lying on top of Akira. He looked pointedly at the window. “Not until it’s dark outside. Why don’t you go see what the girls next door are doing?”

Yotsuba leaned forward slightly and tilted her head. “Wow, you’re really close now.”

“Yeah,” Jumbo smiled widely, “we’re wrestling.”

“Like on TV?”

“Exactly like on TV.”

“Where’re your funny suits?”

“We’ll be getting those later.”

She stared at them for a full minute. No one moved.

Slowly, Yotsuba crouched down to their level, her eyes never leaving them. She raised one hand, fingers pressed together, hand pointed up in a strange salute. Her hand smacked down on the floor quickly, and she counted out loud as she struck the floor. “One. Two. Three. You’re out!” Her hand cut through the air at the end of her count.

“Outs are baseball,” Jumbo corrected. “Now go play.”

“Oh. Okay.”

The door closed. Jumbo had their shirts off in seconds.

The door opened. Yotsuba hung off the doorknob.

“Dad, I’m going out.”

Akira’s face turned bright red. “Have fun.”

“Later, kid.” Jumbo waved.

Yotsuba waved back and swung out of the room, her momentum banging the door shut. Jumbo’s hand slid down his stomach.

The door opened again. Yotsuba glared fiercely at the two men. “Dad, you better kick his butt this time.”

“Yes, dear.”

The door closed.

“How long do you think she’ll stay gone this time?” Jumbo asked as he slipped his hand into Akira’s boxers.

“Ah!” Any reply he could have made was lost as Jumbo’s hand folded around his cock, changing what had just been the early stirrings of interest into a full-fledged erection in two short strokes.

“I agree.”

Akira thumped Jumbo lightly on the back before tightening his grip on Jumbo’s shirt. “Shut up,” he gasped.

“Okay.”

Jumbo stared down at him for a second before closing the distance. Once more, Jumbo’s tongue slipped inside of Akira’s mouth and he waited, half expecting the door to come banging open again. The door stayed shut, even as Jumbo slid Akira’s boxers down his legs. It’d been a while since they’d made it this far. Akira’s legs shook slightly as he made room for Jumbo to kneel between them, his bent knees coming up on either side of Jumbo’s hips.

Akira slipped his hand inside the back pocket of Jumbo’s jeans, squeezing once lightly, teasing, before pulling out the small packet of lubrication that was inside. He ripped the packet open behind Jumbo’s back and squirted half of the gel onto his palm. Jumbo helpfully unzipped his pants and pushed both jeans and underwear down to his knees. Akira passed the rest of the packet to Jumbo as he reached between them, slicking Jumbo’s erection in several long strokes. Slick fingers pressed inside of Akira, painful at first, but the pain receded quickly as he forced himself to relax. It had been a while, but not that long of a while.

He’d missed this. It’d been easier when they’d lived with his parents and he could count on his grandmother to keep Yotsuba occupied for hours. Here it was hit or miss whether Yotsuba would leave them alone long enough and he felt bad foisting Yotsuba off on the neighbors all the time.

“Ready?”

Akira nodded, relaxing back onto the floor while Jumbo lifted Akira by the knees. There was a slight pressure between his legs, the only warning he got before Jumbo pressed inside. He wrapped his arms around Jumbo’s neck and held tight, breathing shallow through his mouth until he got used to having Jumbo inside of him. He forgot sometimes how big Jumbo was, both in height and otherwise.

“God, it’s been too long.”

Akira moaned as Jumbo started moving, slowly filling the room with the soft slap-slap of flesh on flesh. He couldn’t wait until Yotsuba was old enough that he could leave her alone, or at least lock the door for a bit without having to worry about her banging on it until he opened it or climbing in through the window.

Jumbo slid his arms down until Akira’s knees were over the large man’s shoulder. One arm wrapped around Akira’s waist, keeping his hips off the ground and holding him in place while Jumbo thrust inside of him. In, out, in, out, sometime slow, usually not. He was going to have trouble walking later but it was worth it. Fingers curled around Akira’s erection. It was too much after long months of never having enough. Cum splattered across their chests, slicking Jumbo’s fingers as he kept stroking, even as Akira’s erection faded to nothing. He trembled, clung tighter, wrapped one hand in Jumbo’s hair and brought the man’s head down into a bruising kiss.

His hips were hiked higher as Jumbo’s thrust grew more erratic, hitting harder as he neared completion. Teeth knocked as they kissed, tongues dancing around and over each other until Jumbo slammed into him one last time, shout swallowed by Akira’s mouth as he came.

Jumbo pushed himself up on his elbows and grinned widely. “Think she’d believe us if she saw us ‘wrestling’ now?”

The sheer thought filled Akira with mortification. “I don’t ever want to find out.”

Jumbo’s laugh echoed through the room.

Yotsuba stared at Fuka with a look of intense concentration. Fuka opened her mouth, knowing before she said anything that she was going to regret asking.

“Something wrong, Yotsuba-chan?”

The child quirked her head and crawled across the carpet to sit next to the older girl. “Are we close friends, Fuka?”

Tension drained from Fuka’s shoulders as she relaxed, a smile already spreading across her face. “Of course we are, Yotsuba-chan.”

The little girl climbed up onto Fuka’s lap, her face scant inches away from Fuka’s own. “Now we’re closer friends.”

Fuka’s laugh held a hint of nervousness, but she continued to play along. “Yes, now we’re closer.”

Yotsuba’s hand went up Fuka’s shirt. The entire block heard Fuka scream.