If people knew what was going on, they'd think I'm a pervert. A pedophile. The fact that I'm his cousin wouldn't help them understand.
They see me, tall, built, serious and mature. In comparison, Mitsukuni seems like a doll. The fact that I show my physical strength and he usually doesn't creates an illusion, like I'm Beast and he is Beauty. In a way it is so. But no-one knows what really is happening, and it is hidden in such plain sight at the Host Club that sometimes I feel like laughing.
Right now we are in English class. I'm writing down everything the teacher says and writes, making sure to use different colours. Mitsukuni likes it when I use different colours. My hand never stops moving, my handwriting stays neat, even though it's a bit hard to concentrate when Mitsukuni's small hand is sliding on my inner thigh, inching closer to my groin.
When the bell rings, my erection is pressing against the fabric of my school uniform. The little devil by my side smiles, seemingly all innocent and sweet, and holds up his arms, like a child begging to be picked up by their father. I hoist him up sit on my hip, and he wraps his legs around me, his strong thigh both concealing and making my problem worse. Girls coo around us as I gather our things and exit the classroom.
People make way for us. I'm a lot taller than most students here, and I've been told I look menacing. That, combined with 'Honey-sempai's' cuteness makes for a killer combination, leaving people in awe and me with respect. I get so much from Mitsukuni. Without him, I'd be alone.
When we get to Music Room 3, the other other members are already draped in oriental fabrics. I thank gods that the costumes are loose, since my tormentor hasn't given me any pity on our way here. Not that I'd ever want him to stop.
It seems like days pass before the Host Club shuts its doors for the day. I carry Mitsukuni to the car, this time he's on my shoulders. He rubs against the back of my neck from time to time, and he doesn't have to tell me I'm coming home with him tonight.
People who haven't seen the physical side of Mitsukuni wouldn't believe me if I told them, but he could easily overpower me. He will never need to, as I am already on my knees when his door closes behind us, waiting for his command. It comes naturally; people think it's just the ancient servitude of my family to his, but it isn't that. My brother certainly doesn't treat Chika with the same respect. I like being like this with Mitsukuni. I like trusting him like this.
"Takashi", he says, his voice a bit lower than it was when talking to girls at the Host Club. "Please strip and get on the bed, Takashi."
I do as he says, neatly folding every garment as I take it off. He pulls the covers off his bed as I do so, and then I lie down, on my back, hands behind my head, and relax. He watches me for a while, then runs a soft hand down my side, from my armpit to my ankle. He looks a bit sullen, and doesn't meet my eyes.
"I wish I looked more like you", he whispers. "No-one takes me seriously."
"I take you seriously, Mitsukuni. Besides, you can use it to your advantage", I say quietly.
He nods his head, blond hair falling on his huge eyes, making the illusion of a sweet child even more perfect. It shatters soon though, as he undresses, leaving a messy pile next to my neat one, and climbs on top of me. To someone else it might look weird, the proud erection jutting from his childlike body, but not to me. The sight makes me shiver in anticipation.
He takes the lead, as he almost always does. He climbs my body and fucks my mouth until he comes, and then stares intently at my face when he gets me off with his talented little hands wrapped around my cock. He loves to see emotions play on my features, loves to know that he can do that to me. I whisper his name brokenly when I come.
He dozes off in my arms. I cherish this. I never sleep after we've been together like this. I feel like it's my sworn duty to protect him in his sleep, though I know it's just another illusion, him needing my protection. I huff when I think how this would look to other people. A grown man wrapped around a child, both spent and sweaty and naked.
People don't understand that we grew up together. I know him, and I know he isn't a child, no matter what he looks like. He hasn't been one for a long time, despite his charasteristics. So what if he cuddles a stuffed bunny? So what if he loves sweets? I don't think many people would mind if their lover slathered whipped cream on them from time to time...
"I love you, Takashi", he whispers, though I thought he was asleep.
I smile, an expression of utter devotion, one that is only for him.
"I love you too, Mitsukuni."