Spoilers through volume six.
They walked back home, still dripping, and didn't say more than a few perfunctory words to each other. If he were a better man, he'd…Kubota looked at Tokito out of the corner of his eye, and frowned slightly. No, not just yet.
When they got inside, they stripped down, tossing their wet clothes in the washer. The smell of Yokohama bay was everywhere. The still air of the apartment chilled their skin, and Tokito grumbled about taking a shower to warm up when they'd just spent the better part of the night treading water.
Kubota smiled, and offered to join him, but Tokito eyed him warily, and didn't say anything at all as he went. He wondered if it that meant that Tokito was receptive to sex in the shower, but he didn't think so. One time they'd tried a different position, found in a book Kou had slipped Tokito as a joke, and it resulted in him laughing, and Tokito socking him the face. It was three months before Tokito came to him again.
It always happened the same way every time. Tokito sprawled on his lap, face buried in Kubota's neck, hand clenched on the back of the couch. There were four deep identical marks on it that made him smile whenever he saw them. It was always slow, quiet except for the sound of Tokito's harsh breaths in his ear. Tokito never complained, and Kubota liked to feel Tokito's knees pressed against both sides of his hips.
Kubota wanted it in reverse. Tokito was so firmly entrenched in every part of his being, in his heart, soul, that it seemed only fitting for this too. He mentioned it once, and only once, and was turned down with a smile, a kiss, and a you just want me to do all the work, you lazy ass.
They didn't do it often—only when Tokito wanted to—and Kubota would never ask. He could think of a thousand things more important to him, starting with the fifteen expressions he'd seen on Tokito's face since they got home.
Kissing happened even less often than the sex. It halfway seemed ridiculous and halfway made perfect sense. They only kissed when the words threatening to come out were far more intimate than their lips pressed together. It was the sort of futile endeavor that Kubota appreciated, especially when he could taste the words they never spoke to each other on Tokito's tongue.
The first time was eight months after they'd met. He had been watching an infomercial on Acne-Statin—which had followed the one on Phase-out—when Tokito stumbled out of the bedroom, half-asleep, mumbling about that stupid hack, and plopped down on his lap. Kubota didn't move, or stop watching the television, but he did stub out his cigarette.
Tokito looked at him then, eyes heavy with sleep and kissed him on the corner of his mouth. Kubota almost didn't kiss back, but then he felt a clawed hand grip the collar of his shirt, pulling him closer.
"Stupid," Tokito had murmured, and kissed him again. "Stupid. Stupid. Stupid Kubo-chan."
He opened his mouth to speak, but Tokito cut him off. "Stuff it, Kubo-chan."
It was messy and awkward. Tokito murmured his inexperience in his ear, scowling the whole time, and told Kubota to figure everything out. His knowledge was only slightly better, but he was disinclined to explain that his experience added up to one time with a hooker and a kiss from a dangerous old man.
He watched Tokito's face, the way he bit his lip, the way his eyelids fluttered, until Tokito's face turned red, and he hid it against Kubota's shoulder. Tokito stilled as he came, and stayed there for a moment before jumping up and heading off to the shower. Alone, Kubo-chan, you pervert. Kubota sat there, trousers and pants still around his ankles, and thought about the fumbling mess of sex they had on the couch. Perhaps he should ask Tokito if his last words were a request.
He didn't move until Tokito came back, pulling the unlit cigarette from between his lips, and dragged him off to bed. The changing lights on the ceiling occupied him 'til dawn.
He never understood jealously. Kubota never felt a twinge of envy watching someone else touch what was his. Tokito got jealous, and often, and it amused him to no end. He never bothered to repeat what he'd told him once in that dark alley all that time ago. You're all I can see. Sometimes he could hear the tremor in Tokito's voice, or see the twitching eyebrow, and know, know, that later that night , Tokito would come to him.
Jealousy might be foreign, but he knew possessiveness. There might not be envy when someone touched Tokito, but an unpleasant sensation would curl in his gut, and he had to will any violent reaction down, if he could. If chance happened, and Tokito remembered, returned back where he belonged, he knew in his gut that he'd track him down, if he had even the slightest inkling to where he had gone.
Tokito was sitting on the couch when he got out of his own shower, towel around his waist and on his head. Kubota stood before him, thinking for a moment, before he dropped his own towel to the floor, and crawled on Tokito's lap.
There was a moment when he wondered if Tokito would knock him on the floor, but he didn't. Instead, he mumbled, "You're such a lazy ass."
Kubota smiled, and reached under the cushion on the left side of the couch. It wasn't the best place to store it, but they never did anything anywhere else.
He prepared himself, watching Tokito sit there awkwardly, not knowing where to put his hands, or where to look. Kubota leaned forward, resting his head on Tokito's shoulder, and waited until hands finally settled upon his waist.
The burn was like nothing he felt before, and he grasped at the back of the couch, fingers running over the marks. Tokito's breath caught, and it sent a shiver down Kubota's back. This, this was what he'd wanted. He couldn't explain it, especially when he could live his life never having sex again, and not notice the lack of it. This, however, was different.
Kubota smiled as he felt the nails of Tokito's claw just barely pierce his skin. He pressed down, shifting his hips slowly, subtly, knowing this was probably the only time it would be this way. His cock pressed against Tokito's stomach, and he could feel just the barest of hair. Kubota moved closer, their chests flat against each other, and kissed the shell of Tokito's ear. Kubota wondered if maybe he should bite that one next time.
The curl in his stomach was slower to build, this time, but it was stronger. His cock was pressed tight between them and Tokito shifted up his hips to meet him as he pushed down. The soft Kubo-chan under Tokito's breath caused him to pull back in time to see his eyes close. It was then that Kubota kissed him, tongue curling in Tokito's mouth, tensed, and came. Tokito gripped him more tightly, and thrust up again.
Their kisses were rough and wet, and Tokito bit Kubota's bottom lip between his teeth as he came. Kubota slumped against him, not caring about the sticky, wet mess that was his body. Tokito's hands slid down his waist, over his hips, and flopped down on the couch. They both needed to deal with what happened, but later would be soon enough. Dimly, he heard the phone ringing-probably Kasai-san-and noticed the sun peeking through the curtains. He didn't want to move-not even for cigarettes-and Tokito wasn't making him, so he closed his eyes, and smiled. No, definitely not yet.