Baby, Oh, Something's Gotta Give

by thoughtless dreamer

Makoto is whatever his family needs him to be. A son, an older brother-a perfect role model. It's a 24/7 job and he fulfills it happily. If means putting his own wants and needs on hold, what of it? They come first. He can wait. He just hadn't counted on Haru stepping in to say enough was enough. Haru/Makoto. Rated for unhealthy self-repression, underage drinking, smut & language.

1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer: Free! Itowabi Swim Club n'est pas mon—oui, c'est triste, je sais mes amis.

A/N: I'm officially addicted to the k-meme. It's a Thing.

Warnings: Yaoi, boyslovin'boys, super unhealthy self-repression, mentions of underage drinking, language, and a veritable explosion of feels after said immense repression.

Prompt: (A/N it's a doozy, but I'm determined to hit it all) Due to living in a house with a two younger siblings and parents who maybe don't understand the need of privacy teenage boys have, Makoto can't jerk of. Ever. Or think of sex, because that feels wrong when he's constantly entertaining his siblings, day and night, because they are sleepless devils (not his words). Thus, he has to put his sexual wants/needs right to the back of his mind and then put them in a box. A box that, thanks to the many many responsibilities he's assigned himself, never gets opened.

Someone finds out about his celibate tendencies and decides to something about it. And will not let Makoto be selfless about it, even if they have to tie him down to achieve that. (Hypothetically). (Or not). They draw it out, make it slow almost to the point of pain and not for necessarily selfless reasons themselves, mostly because he looks pretty when he's desperate and almost (almost, I guess they just have to try harder) begging.

(Basically, I have a lot of porny Makoto feels, because he's sweet but also tall and muscular and I want someone to climb him like the attractive tree he is).

••∞• Baby, Oh, Something's Gotta Give •∞••

Makoto is, by nature, a creature of family.

He is whatever his family needs him to be-the obedient son, the fun older brother, occasionally Mom Number Two, and the occasional gentle disciplinarian.

It is a twenty four seven job-and he fulfils it happily, has been ever since his dad sat him down in the waiting room of the hospital and explained to Makoto that he was going to be a big brother for the rest of his life, and it was a lifetime job. He would always have the twins looking up to him, needing his guidance, needing him to set a good example for them for the rest of their lives, and was he ready to be a big brother?

To which five year old Makoto eagerly nodded his assent, determined to be the very best big brother for the rest of his life.

He likes to think he hasn't failed them yet.

Back then, Makoto adored his little brother and sister from the moment they came home. He played with them, cooed at them, and even let them tug at his hair as he talked to them, telling them all the things he's going to teach them to do.

He patiently waited for the twins to crawl clumsily after him, and he held their tiny hands as they started to take their first steps; he kissed their bumps and bruises and skinned knees until suddenly, one day-so much sooner than he thought-there are tiny twin patters of feet constantly shadowing him.

Makoto loves them, and his parents are delighted with him-and Makoto preens under the attention and praise his parents shower him with when they tell the other parents just how good a big brother he is, and how even Makoto's best friend, Haru, is a wonderful second set of patient, watchful eyes.

The years breeze by and Makoto teaches the twins how to fish; Makoto teaches the twins how to swim; Makoto teaches the twins how to tie their shoes, how to write their kanji, how to do their maths, how to speak politely.

And one day Makoto blinks, and Ren and Ran have grown up before his very eyes to become his very own fanclub.

Well, his two biggest admirers start very young. As soon as they twins are old enough to hobble around, they wait impatiently by the door for him to come home, and so the house echoes with delighted screams of "onii-chan" from the moment Makoto gets home, to the moment they go to bed.

"Bedtime," however, doesn't by any means stop them from trying to spend even more time with Makoto.

Makoto learns, very quickly that for a toddler, a closed door invites nothing but challenge.

(Because they are "sleepless devils" - Haru's words, not his, because they try even harder to get in when he sleeps over, because then there's a big brother for each of them to crawl under the covers with at night.)

And besides, Makoto very quickly decides-so what if he doesn't really have any privacy; it's not like he doesn't have the rest of his life to mae certain...important bodily discoveries for himself.

In the meanwhile, with that decision made and that kind of experimentation put firmly on hold, he can comfortably leave his door open day and night for his siblings to come running-either to whimper about nightmares or to giggle as they jump on him in the morning to wake him.

Sex can wait. He's only in middle school, and his siblings need him more than he needs, well, whatever it is the others are constantly talking about-one day he'll be able to figure it all out.

Unfortunately for Makoto, One Day never seems to come.

The minute the twins finally grow up enough to understand the concept of privacy is the minute his parents start depending heavily on him to run the errands they simply can't do; because Makoto's old enough now for them to send off into town-they simply have to walk into Makoto's room where he's doing his homework to ask him.

They don't expect to ever see Makoto's door shut-why would it be? Makoto has always made his own space public space, so they shouldn't be expected to have to knock, either. So at any given time they'll simply pop their head in without warning to ask him for a favor the moment he's not busy. To be a lifesaver and run to the store, please; won't you please go check up on Grandma Nanase with Haru; would you mind walking the twins home from their friend's house?

Repression, Makoto quickly comes to terms with, is his only viable option considering his circumstances-and he's all right with that (his family will always come first).

And it's something Makoto learns to master very early and very quickly.

Soon it becomes second nature rather than less deliberate effort for Makoto to learn not to even so much as think about touching himself—even if he's starting high school, and all the boys can talk about is that new explicit manga that came out, or that new hentai anime they can't seem to get enough of.

Makoto laughs and bashfully waves away any offers from his fellow classmates to exchange porn or hentai in school; he learns how to gently and not unkindly turn girls down when they confess their feelings for him; and that's how Makoto's reputation begins to proceed him.

He's perfect husband material. He's asexual. He's a blushing virgin. He's in an arranged marriage. He's a shy, caring family sort of guy who wants to wait for The One. There's already someone else.

Now Makoto can't exactly argue most of the rumors that spread throughout the school-though he does manage to laugh off the silly notion that he's already engaged, or has someone waiting for him, much to the more romantic students' disappointment or, alternatively, delight.

As for the others, though?

While it's safe to ponder over whether he's husband material (he supposes he probably is) or if he's waiting for someone, for The One (well he'd like to think so)-the other lingering questions: is he asexual, is he a virgin?

Those are questions he lets fly in one ear and right out the other, because to explore those questions demands that he open that box he shoves to the back of his head-the one that can never, ever be opened, not while he still has so many responsibilities to answer to, so many roles to account for.

He's happy, really he is.

He has his beloved family, his school, and most of all his amazing friends and swim team to occupy his attention.

All is well.

And then.

It all comes crashing down. It had to.

••∞••∞••∞

It's the first of August, a hot, beautifully clear night and they've gathered at Haru's to celebrate Nagisa's seventeenth birthday.

Rin sneaks in an expensive bottle of sake that everyone drinks freely from, save Haru and Makoto, despite Rin's and Nagisa's joined efforts of lighthearted taunting and pouting, respectively.

"C'mon, Haru-chan, Mako-chaaan," Nagisa bubbles, his eyes already bright with the several shots he's downed, leaning into Rei heavily when he trips, before exploding into giggles at himself.

"Yeah, don't be a buncha pussies," Rin grins sharply, abruptly shoving the bottle into Haru's hands so the dark-haired teen has to fumble not to drop it-and he sends a mild glare at the redhead.

"Don't want to," Haru simply says, glancing at Makoto who's waving their plaintive whines away. "Makoto doesn't want to either. Drop it."

"What Haru means, is we're going over to my place, later," Makoto says, smiling apologetically, and grasping Nagisa's shoulder to steady the bouncing blond when he inexplicably leaps at Makoto at the sound of his voice.

"And more than likely, we're going to be playing with the twins. We really shouldn't be drinking," he explains, gently flicking a few sparkles off of Nagisa's button nose when they flutter down from his curls. Nagisa had popped some new year's noisemaker he found laying around over his own head earlier when he'd blown out his candles, over an hour ago, yet they were sticking to him like glue.

"You're a fucking pair of lightweights, is what you are!" Rin yells accusingly, pointing dramatically at the two of them, but it's pretend righteous fury on his face.

"Calm down, Rin-san, Nagisa-kun," Rei says firmly, though his usually intimidating glare is somewhat negated by the flush running across the bridge of his nose from his own, meager indulgence earlier.

"If Haru-san and Makoto-san don't want to drink anything, they don't have to. And stop jumping on me, Nagisa!" Rei ends with an exasperated shout, catching the tiny blond's wrists as he pathetically beats at his back, yelling in indignant fury that "They're all –san, and I'm just –kun?! I'm older than you, Rei-chaaan~!"

"Why don't we play a game?" Makoto asks helplessly, torn between staying by Haru's side and relishing the soothing calm that passes over him from being in his friend's presence, and trying to pry Nagisa off of Rei where his attention has somehow turned into a valiant effort to try and get the taller boy's shirt off.

Nagisa is in front of him before he can blink. "That's a great idea, Mako-chan! That's why you're the mom!" he hollers right into Makoto's ear, and Makoto can't help but laugh even as he winces at the volume, because it is Nagisa's birthday, and all he wants is to see him enjoying himself.

"What do you suggest we play, Nagisa-kun?" Rei asks, doing an admirable job of keeping his voice steady even as he surreptitiously does up the three buttons Nagisa impossibly managed to get undone.

"Let's play Never Have I Ever," Nagisa trills, throwing up both hands and splaying all his fingers for everyone to see even as he dropps right down where he is to sit, waiting impatiently for everyone to take their respective seats and mimic his motion.

"Alright, I'll start! Never have I ever gotten caught jacking off in the school showers," he crows, grinning ear to ear as he throws his head back to look triumphantly down his nose at Rei, who's a red-faced, spluttering mess, and exclaiming "Nagisa, you idiot, you promised you wouldn't tell!" even as he reluctantly lowers a finger.

Rin is laughing uproariously, but he puts down a finger of his own and is eyeing the mortified second year with a hint of admiration. "Not bad, man, not bad-I would've never expected something like that from you, Mister Stick Up The Ass," he chuckles, putting his hands together in a slow clap (that Nagisa delightedly joins) before raising them up again.

Makoto's stomach gives a nervous flop as he realizes that, the way this game is turning, he may have dug himself into a hole he really doesn't want to get trapped in (and on his own suggestion, too).

"Alright, alright-my turn," Rin declares, glowering at everyone as if to dare challenge his authority to stake his claim for the next question, and he makes a show out of thinking, before a sly smile slides onto his face and he smirks smugly at Haru. "Never have I ever creamed my jammers," he sneers, his eyebrow twitching a little when Haru doesn't so much as shrug when he flicks down a finger.

Makoto's head whips to the side to stare at Haru despite himself, green eyes wide and surprised, a flush quickly staining his cheeks. "Haru-chan?" he asks dubiously.

Haru shakes his head with an exasperated sigh. "It was years ago," he frowns lightly at Rin, who looks like the cat that got the canary (and hasn't even noticed the way Nagisa went very red and quiet as another finger silently went down -though that isn't to say no one noticed). "I. Found the water jets," he coughs, and Makoto swears he catches the briefest glimpse of a flush on Haru's cheeks before he ducks his head.

"My turn," Haru says quickly, before anyone can say otherwise, "Never swam any style other than free."

Everyone curses or laughs as a finger goes down, and it feels like an enormous weight has been lifted off Makoto's shoulders, and he smiles gratefully at Haru, for steering the questions into a completely different—

"I have one," Rei announces as he pushes his glasses up the bridge of his nose, looking determined and not a little proud of himself for this next one-clearly intent on bringing the others down to his own number of fingers.

"Never have I ever gotten caught m-masturbating by anyone in my family," he announces proudly.

"Damn nosy sisters," Rin mutters enviously, his face turning an interesting array of colors where he seems to blush and pale at the same time.

"Nn," Haru makes a soft, unhappy noise as a second finger goes down as well.

"Whaaa!~ Rei-chan, that's amazing," Nagisa exclaims, eyes shining in a mix of admiration and jealousy. "My sisters have all walked in on me!" he cries, scrambling to his feet to make a show of bowing towards Rei. "All hail the sexy special time ninja!"

Nagisa grins as he glances about to make sure everyone is complying with his birthday demand and bowing along with him—when his eyes fall upon Makoto, who's still got only one finger lowered on his hand.

"Whaa?! Inconceivable!" Nagisa all but shrieks as he sinks dramatically to his knees to he falls prostrate before a speechless Makoto's feet. "Rei-chan! Rei-chan! There is a threat to your sexy ninja title!" he wails.

Everyone turns to stare at Makoto, taken aback but Rei looks the most surprised—clearly, he thought he would take everyone down a notch with that one.

Even Haru stares, eyes widening a fraction—and this tells Makoto two things.

Firstly, Makoto knows he's actually stunned Haru.

Secondly, he's (ironically) fucked. If Haru's surprised, well, then maybe it really kind of is a huge deal, in having managed the apparently gargantuan task of avoiding the pinnacle of manly familial embarrassment up until now.

Rin, for his part, cackles loudly and stumbles over to approvingly give Makoto a hard slap on the back. "Well, well, well Makoto, my man!" he crows, smirk widening at the way Makoto can't meet his eyes, "that's one for the records! Didn't think you of all people mastered getting off in private. Fuck, I always took you for a screamer," he laughs, scratching the nape of his neck as he stares at the brunet.

"Let us in on your secret, sensei."

Suddenly, the box that's been shoved to the back of his thoughts feels a lot heavier.

Makoto shifts uncomfortably beneath Rin's laser-like gaze, and laughs weakly, still staring studiously at the grain of the wood. "Well. I."

'Why is this suddenly such a big deal?' Makoto asks himself as he feels his stomach lurch in panic beneath everyone's undivided attention, 'these are your friends, they're different, they wouldn't care.'

It doesn't (shouldn't) matter that Makoto's gotten away without explaining himself up till now. If anyone were to be sympathetic to his predicament, it would be his best friends. And, well, maybe. Just maybe, the thought of finally getting this secret off his chest sounds…well, incredibly relieving.

"I. Actually," Makoto braces himself, before he shoves the words out in a jumbled rush, "I've never done that before."

Rin blinks rapidly down at Makoto, staring with wide, red eyes for a good ten seconds before he throws his head back laughing raucously. "Secret's gonna go with him to the grave-we''re not worthy of his holy ways, Nagisa," he snickers, shaking his head as he goes over to throw an arm around Nagisa, impervious to the dirty look Rei sends his way at the familiar motion.

Nagisa giggles loudly with him, letting the brunt of his weight fall against Rin so they're leaning against each other heavil-and he's too far gone to feel the way their corner of the room practically drops three degrees from the force of Rei's glower.

"I…no, really," Makoto struggles to get out. "I just haven't ever-"

Explaining himself is a lost cause, though, because Nagisa chooses that moment to scream "Inconceivable!" again before he tears himself from Rin's side to grab his face.

"Nooo don't you get it, Rin-chan?" Nagisa gasps, smooshing Rin's cheeks between his hands-and it's a testament to how much of a friendly drunk Rin is that he doesn't even snap one of Nagisa's fingers off.

"Mako-chan's like, like a magical girl! Ooh, ooh or that chastity princess! His purity is what makes all the classmates swoon at his feet," he giggles, letting Rin swat his hands away to stare at him.

"The fuck? What chastity princess? Are you high, Nagisa?" Rin snorts, but he looks a little thoughtful.

"You know! You know the one! Where that one guy screams inconceivable! It's a western movie-Riiiin-chaaaan, you're the one who went to Australia~!"

"Waitwaitwait, Nagisa, are you talking bout the fucking Princess Bride? You're calling Makoto the fucking Princess Bride—Nagisa, how do you even know about that shitty movie?"

"It's not a shitty movie, Rin-chan, you take that back!" Nagisa yells, dancing around. "It's about wuv, twue wuv-" he giggles, suddenly darting over to smack a wet kiss to Rei's cheek, much to the spluttered boy's chagrin, "—and extortion and chastity belts!"

"Nagisa, I brought that movie home for Kou for her birthday three years ago—she made me watch that fucking film with her ten fucking times the entire holiday, there isn't a fucking chastity belt."

"Yeah, there is! When Robin Hood gets Buttercup in the end!"

"Nagisa no."

The conversation, if it can be called that, ultimately explodes into an argument about whether or not chastity belts were involved in the Princess Bride, and whether or not Nagisa was mixing it up with some Monty Python film Rin had seen in Australia-

Five minutes later Makoto laughs helplessly as they find themselves crowding around the T.V. as Rin and Nagisa continue to bicker as they set up a laptop to find the movies to stream on the bigger screen.

They watch both films. They're both a hit with everyone, and Nagisa laughs so hard he cries at Men In Tights, and doesn't even care that he was wrong.

As ridiculous as the films may be, something nags at the not-so-far-back of Makoto's mind.

He doesn't know how he feels. He isn't really sure whether or not he's relieved or disappointed that the topic drops so easily, he thinks it really may have been nice to share that secret with his friends; but in the end he just lets out a sigh and decides that it probably would have been more trouble than it was worth, anyway.

"I'm gonna go get some more cake—would anyone like more?" Makoto asks as Nagisa simply falls back squealing with laughter, his face darker than even his eyes.

"I'd appreciate a cup of water, Makoto-san," Rei asks politely, and Makoto nods, making a silent note to bring one for Nagisa as well (and then make sure he drinks it).

Makoto heads to the kitchen, leaving the drunken giggles and mocking accented English behind, and he smiles a bit at the soft footfalls behind him.

Haru apparently needs a small break, too. Makoto isn't really surprised.

"Are you having a good time, Haru-chan?" Makoto grins, grabbing four glasses from Haru's cupboard to fill with water, and promptly handing one to the raven-haired teen, who takes it with a silent nod of thanks.

"Mm," Haru hums, and Makoto figures it sounds more agreeable than not, so he nods and takes a sip from his own glass as well as he walks over to what's leftover from the cake.

"If you need them to go soon, I can help let them know," Makoto offers amicably, slicing a small piece of the black forest cake to pick up with his fingers and popping it into his mouth with a happy sound, chewing and swallowing before going on. "I can always say we have to babysit. Besides, the twins would love to see you-"

"You were serious, weren't you?"

The smile freezes on Makoto's face until it fades to nonexistence. "Ah. Yeah," he replies simply, and suddenly the air feels a lot thicker and it's inexplicably harder to breathe.

Haru squints at him. "So you've never," and Makoto thinks that Haru is going to say something more, but he doesn't-he patiently waits for Makoto's response.

"O-oh. Right. Yeah, no," Makoto stutters, feeling more than a little self-conscious when Haru's eyes narrow further and he stares at him long and hard.

"Okay," Haru finally nods at last, frown slipping away, and Makoto's stomach does an interesting little flip (but, Makoto notices with an easy breath, it really does feel like he's lighter).

Makoto gathers the two remaining glasses of water and turns to say something to Haru but the teen has already slipped away, presumably to head back to the others.

Sure enough, Makoto's gaze falls onto Haru who's curled up on his favorite chair; and as Makoto passes the water to their respective recipients, as Makoto gently coaxes Nagisa into drinking his full cup of water, as Makoto bids Rin, Rei and Nagisa goodnight and walks them out the door, making them promise to send a mail the minute they get home-

He can't shake the feeling of piercing blue eyes tracking his every move.

"Makoto."

The brunet nearly jumps at the voice in his ear as he spins around from locking the door behind Rei, where he'd lingered at the doorway smiling as Rei grudgingly let the small blond clamber onto his back for a piggyback ride.

"Y-yeah, Haru-chan? You startled me," he smiles, hands twitching by his sides as he urges them not to fly up to cover his heart or shriek in surprise. 'It's just Haru,' Makoto silently chides himself, 'calm down.'

Haru makes a noncommittal sound that Makoto accepts as apology, but doesn't say a word for a long minute, blue eyes studying his face intently.

"Hungry?" he says at last, eyes dropping to the ground.

Makoto splutters a laugh. "Haru, we just ate dinner a few hours ago," he chuckles, but good-humouredly grabs Haru's hand to tug him towards the kitchen.

His heart nearly leaps out of his chest when Haru twines their fingers together.

Then it starts beating a mile a minute.

Because Haru has always held his hand, but. But not like this. Not where it feels like. Feels like he's holding it with warmth. With his fingers squeezed around Makoto's in what feels kind of like an embrace. Where his thumb runs back and forth over the back of his hand with a mind of its own.

It makes his fingers tingle. He faintly thinks it might run all the way down to his toes, but how can that be, when he's not even touching him there.

His heart-or is it his stomach?-gives a happy lurch. That's the only way he can describe it. Makoto's never felt a happy lurch in his life before, but. That's what it is.

And he thinks—

He might—

"Dinner," Makoto says, a little hysterically, as he unwinds their fingers and nearly throws the first cupboard open.

It's plates. He knows it's plates; he knows Haru knows he knows it's plates, but he has to stop the warmth that's pooling low and pleasant in his belly and Haru's hands-so soft, so warm, so pretty, always have been hands-touching his makes him feel faint and dizzy and he likes it.

He grabs two plates, if only to cover the way his hands are shaking badly, but he immediately has to set them down on the counter with a clatter, because Haru is right behind him, peering blandly down over Makoto's shoulder.

All of the sudden Makoto is hyper aware, of everything, of Haru.

The way his body heat seeps through the fabric of Makoto's shirt as he presses up against him, leaning heavily against his back, looking bored. How his breath tickles against his neck as he rests his chin on Makoto's shoulder.

Makoto feels like he's burning.

Because-Haru's standing so close, god, but hasn't he always stood close to Makoto, til he's nearly on top of him? and is it weird, it's not weird, why is it weird?

It's Haru. It's always been Haru. HaruHaru-

"Makoto."

His heart is thudding against his chest painfully. It almost hurts. He wants it to stop.

(hedoesn'twantittostop)

"Onigiri," he blurts out, hands shooting out for the next cupboard over, grabbing the packet of nori he knows is there because he brought it over last week, to make mackerel onigiri.

Because it's normal. He needs normal. He's always taken care of Haru. Cooked for him.

Cooking.

Cooking he can do. After all, he has to cook for the twins once or twice a week, every week, when his mother is volunteering and his father is at work.

"Makoto—"

"How's mackerel ongiri sound, Haru?" Makoto asks and his voice does not shake and his smile does not waver as he slips out of Haru's light grasp, busying himself opening the packet of seaweed even as he heads over to the rice cooker-thank God, there's some leftover from dinner. "I was gonna make it this weekend, actually."

"Makoto, sto-"

"We can use the mackerel from lunch," Makoto's voice rises, cracks a little, but he keeps on talking because Haru can't talk he just can't he was right he wasn't ready to have this conversation, not yet, not even with Haru, especially not with Haru, because it is Haru it always has been it always has been Haru all Haru always Haru.

"Makoto, stop."

Makoto's mouth snaps shut as Haru shouts.

Haru has never raised his voice at him. Not once.

But here he is, eyes flashing and face drawn and calm and furious all at once, and his voice cuts like frozen steel.

Makoto folds into himself, pressing back against the counter and arms curled around his waist protectively as he stares with wide, glassy green eyes at his best friend, who's just staring at him, looking nearly as surprised as Makoto at his outburst, but not nearly apologetic.

"Just for once," Haru says softly, just so softly that Makoto leans in despite himself, "just stop. Stop."

And Haru slowly, oh so slowly moves to Makoto, reaching out and grasping Makoto's hands in his own, fingers gently but firmly prying Makoto's fingers open from the fists they're curled into, and he makes a reproachful face at the tiny, bright red crescents in Makoto's palms before raising both hands to his lips, pressing a soft kiss to each palm.

Makoto can't breathe.

"Don't. You don't have to."

Makoto's lips move silently, and he wants to, wants so badly to ask what Haru means, what he doesn't have to do, what is he doing, what is he doing wrong?

"You can't do this anymore," Haru whispers. "You can't do everything for everyone if it means you can't do a single thing for yourself."

Makoto rears back as if Haru's struck him-in a way, he has, more than Haru could ever know. His best friend who's made himself Makoto's world, his everything just reached deep down and tore a hole in the walls Makoto spent so many years building, reinforcing, protecting.

Makoto crumples.

"I have to," he breathes, and he thinks he's crying but he doesn't know, he doesn't know anything anymore, "I don't, I can't-they need me, my family needs me," Makoto begs, pleads, urges Haru to understand.

"I have to be so much, I have to be everything they need me to be, I have to be perfect for them, for you-"

Haru slaps him.

Makoto's actually grateful, in a way, because it stops the runaway train of his thoughts as they spin off into too much all at once and stops the panic crushing his chest in any further, making it impossible to breathe.

"Fuck you, Makoto," Haru whispers, and Makoto can only hold his cheek and stare, abashed, because his best friend stopped a panic attack in it's tracks. "Don't you dare try to be perfect for me. Never me."

Haru's fingers wrap around Makoto's wrist to tug his hand away so that he can brush trembling lips apologetically against Makoto's pinked cheek.

"You don't have to be perfect. You're already everything I need."

Makoto buckles, slides down to the floor with Haru, and cries and cries and cries.

Haru holds him, never hushes him, kisses his face and never lets go of him.

Makoto doesn't know how long they're sitting there on the kitchen floor, how long he spends bawling into Haru's shirt, but he just can't seem to stop to flow of tears. He's horribly embarrassed, he knows Haru likes this shirt (likes him)and here he is sobbing grossly into his favorite shirt.

"I don't care about the shirt, Makoto, I care about you," Haru says with fond exasperation and Makoto freezes before he buries his face into Haru's chest, mortified that he was speaking out loud; like, who even does that, how stupid can he be, does he do this all the time?-– "since we were kids, Makoto, it's fine. It's cute."

Oh.

Well. So maybe Haru really isn't quite as freakishly psychic as he was convinced he was for years.

Makoto lifts his face meekly at that, and graciously accepts the tissue that he doesn't really know how Haru got to offer him, wiping his tears and face.

"…really think so?" he mumbles at last, barely more than a babble of sound, but somehow, as always, Haru knows exactly what he means.

"Yeah," Haru says, gently brushing one last, lingering tear from Makoto's cheek with his thumb. "I do. Always did," he adds almost reluctantly, eyes straying to the tiled floor as a hint of a blush colors his cheeks.

And if Makoto can't help but smile, who could blame him?

After all-the boy he just realized wasn't just his best friend all these years, but the only crush he's ever wanted, ever known, ever loved-loves him right back

••∞••∞••∞

Makoto calls his house-lets them know he's staying over at Haru's house for the night.

He hesitates when they ask if he can't stay over tomorrow night-it's such short notice, and couldn't Haru come over instead?-but Haru grabs the phone and blithely tells them that all the guys are over and won't let him leave.

His parents laugh and tell them to have fun.

That done, Haru turns to give a stunned Makoto a triumphant look, snaps the phone shut, turns it off and makes Makoto shut his eyes as he chucks it into an unknown drawer, to Makoto's horror, to his delight.

"They're going to be fine," Haru informs Makoto calmly, as he help his taller friend up to his feet, keeping their fingers locked as he leads him out of the kitchen. "You've stayed over a thousand times before, and nothing's happened. Just because it's last minute, doesn't mean the world is going to end."

Makoto opens his mouth to argue as they climb the stairs but, well, he has a point.

"The others aren't here though," Makoto blurts out before he can think of anything else to say. "So, what are we going to-"

And that's when Makoto realizes they're standing in Haru's bedroom. The walk is so second nature, so habitual, that he doesn't even realize it until he hears the familiar click of the door behind them.

Haru's staring at him again. This time, though, Makoto swallows hard and forces himself to hold Haru's gaze - and now that the box is opened, it doesn't take more than a glance to read what's written on Haru's face plain as day.

"I want you," Haru sighs as he reaches up and runs a hand through Makoto's brown hair, and it's such a small move, that he's embarrassed how quickly it makes his knees go so weak.

"At first I didn't know what you were waiting around for. I figured you'd tell me when you wanted to do any of that stuff," Haru says, so quietly Makoto has to lean in close to hear him. "I didn't think it was because you didn't know how. I was beginning to think it was me," Haru admits, and he looks so downtrodden that Makoto nearly trips over himself to tug Haru over to the bed, sitting them both down so they're level.

"It could never be you, Haru," and the vehemence in his own voice when he says it startles Makoto, but he carries on, eyes pricking with frustrated tears. "I just, I never thought about it. N-no," Makoto stutters, mentally kicking himself when Haru's eyes narrow, "I mean, I meant I never let myself think about it. I couldn't," he confesses miserably.

"Because you didn't want to?" Haru queries tentatively, letting out a soft huff of laughter when Makoto's caught between nodding and shaking his head.

"No it wasn't that I didn't want to, I don't—I really don't know, if it was one way of the other," Makoto tries to explain helplessly, "it was just, I didn't see any other way. To get around it? I never had time—I was too busy," he says, shoulders slumping in relief as he finds the right words at last.

"From the moment the twins were born-" and Haru's eyes light up with understanding and Makoto wants to cry all over again but this time in relief "I didn't want to make time for myself. They were too important to me," Makoto sighs and Haru nods slightly, more to himself than Makoto.

"I just sort of. Put myself on hold-"

"And you've been stuck there ever since," Haru finishes, at last, and Makoto can only nod, words suddenly sticking in his throat as the dark haired boy looms closer.

He shrinks back on the bed, flustered by the proximity, until his back meets a wall, and he realizes Haru's straddling him where he's crowded back against the headboard.

"Makoto?"

"Haru?" he blurts back, voice cracking embarrassingly loud.

Haru leans in til their foreheads touch, his blue eyes boring into Makoto's green ones.

"I'm going to kiss you now," Haru tells him matter of factly.

"Oh," Makoto says dumbly. "Okay."

Slowly, so slow it's nearly painful, Haru presses his lips to Makoto's.

And Makoto thinks he may die, it's so soft and sweet and full of warmth. Haru's lips are full and cool, and better than anything Makoto could dream of.

Haru releases a gentle sigh against Makoto's mouth as he tilts his head and adds pressure and ever so slightly moves his lips, drawing a quiet whine from low in Makoto's throat.

They finally part with a soft sound, and Makoto blinks his eyes slowly back open, cheeks flushing furiously as his gaze meets Haru's.

"Okay?" Haru asks mildly, but his eyes give his nerves away as they urgently search Makoto's face.

It makes Makoto smile, because he's so lucky to have such a caring…

Well. Best friend, but…what else are they?

"D-does this mean," Makoto starts before stuttering into a squeak as Haru chooses that moment to press forward, so that they fall back into the pillows, Haru sprawled comfortably on top of Makoto. Makoto squirms, embarrassed and hyper sensitive, but he shifts until their bodies are comfortably fitted against each other before he continues. "Are we—is this-do you want-"

"Makoto," Haru sighs, pulling back from nuzzling Makoto's neck to grace him with a blank look. "You're the only one I want. I won't change my mind. It's you or no one."

Makoto smiles so hard that it feels like his face may split, and he tries to duck his head to hide it, but Haru tips his head up, grasping his chin lightly.

"Yeah," Makoto whispers, and his lashes flutter against his flushed cheeks as Haru presses a ghost of a kiss against the corner of his mouth, "I-Haru, me too, I…"

"I know," Haru simply says, but he's smiling faintly as he tucks a piece of hair behind Makoto's ear with enough tenderness to make Makoto's heart skip a beat.

Makoto bites his lip, shyly reaching out to touch Haru's cheeks, stroking his face with trembling fingers-gasping sharply when Haru leans into the touch and turns his head to graze his teeth gently along Makoto's palm.

The idea of Haru's mouth on his own is already nearly more than he can bear to think about, to make him tremble; but the mere thought of his mouth anywhere else…

"Oh, god, oh godohgodohgod," Makoto chants, hands flying to Haru's shirt to curl into it, both pushing and pulling at him as he tries to scramble away but closer still, because suddenly heat is rushing through him in an entirely unfamiliar way and it's too much and not enough, all at once-it feels so—

"H-Haru, Haru s-sta-I don't…I-I can't, I have no idea what I'm-how to," he gasps, stutters, tries over and over but can't quite bring himself to say it, and his face burns in shame because he doesn't understand, doesn't know why his mouth won't listen to him.

"Makoto, it's okay. It's all okay," Haru murmurs, patiently sitting back on his knees to let Makoto catch his breath, and Makoto lets his head flop back against the pillows, panting as he looks up curiously. "Just let me."

"Let you…?" he asks, soft and uncertain.

"Let me take care of you, for once," Haru finishes quietly, leaning in to hover over his boyfriend (his boyfriend, he has a boyfriend, he has Haru) touching Makoto's face reverently before tucking his face against Makoto's neck and pressing their bodies flush together, a soft, pleased hum escaping him.

Makoto's body shudders beneath Haru's, and he's arching before he realizes what he's doing, pressing back as best he can and he lets out a strangled gasp when Haru's hips align with his, and Haru cants his forward.

Pleasure zips up his spine, exotic and overwhelming and Makoto keens loudly, slapping a hand over his mouth and squeezing his eyes shut in embarrassment.

"Don't hide, Makoto," Haru mumbles between kisses against his jaw, blue eyes darting briefly up to meet Makoto's cloudier green ones. "I need to see your face. I need to see that you want this. I love you. I won't do anything you don't want. I love you," Haru repeats, with underlying urgency, as if it's imperative that Makoto absolutely believe him.

Makoto gives a jerk of a nod, because he does, he does, but he doesn't trust his voice—not when his heart feels fit to burst with love, and emotion is thick in his throat.

"Ahn!" Makoto jerks with a muffled sound when the raven-haired boy lets his teeth graze against his skin, but yelps when he starts nipping at his throat, squirming when the other swimmer pauses to soothe the reddening skin with his tongue before moving on.

Makoto tenses when a horrifying thought flicks through his mind-that he's sure to be covered in hickies tomorrow, and what will his parents think then, and god forbid the twins notice-?

Makoto does not squeal in surprise when Haru's teeth catch sharply on his earlobe, sending a thrill of pleasure thrumming through him in a way he never knew ears could.

"Stop worrying," Haru says firmly, words muffled as he rolls the sensitive lobe between his teeth and tongue, and Makoto's body strains between melting in pleasure and shying away instinctively when the feeling starts to affect him in other ways.

"H-Haru, nghh," Makoto whines, incoherently desperately, fingers clutching at Haru's back for dear life as he tries to stomp down the overwhelming desire rushing down from his head to his toes and, more importantly, other places in between. He wants to hide his face, but he forces his hands to stay where they're tangled in the longer strands of hair at Haru's nape, stroking shaking fingers through the silken strands instead whenever the urge arises.

It's soothing, and familiar, and he clutches impulsively when Haru starts to push up his shirt.

"Is this okay?" Haru asks, barely above a whisper, when he has Makoto's tee bunches up to his shoulders, blue eyes searching Makoto's worriedly.

Makoto nods even as he chews on his lip hard, but Haru presses his thumb to his lower lip in silent reprimand, gently freeing his lip from his teeth before he pulls Makoto's shirt over his head, shifting back to let Makoto sit up a little to help and unintentionally settling his weight in Makoto's lap-the brunet nearly jumps out of his skin as Haru's ass presses against his cock and he nearly sees stars.

"Fuck-" Makoto pants as his hips grind up against Haru, unbidden, and he clasps his hands over his mouth, eyes wide in mortification.

"Oh, god, god, oh fuck, Haru, I'm so sorry, I d-didn't mean-it just feels so good, d-do you want me t-to-"

(Makoto thinks he may pass out if he doesn't breathe soon but words won't stop tumbling out of his mouth)

"-s-shouldn't I b-be tou-touching you back, oh-ohmygod I should, I'm, I don't, I'm awful, I'm no good a-at this, Haru I'm so sorry," he splutters, and he reaches down to shyly run his hand along Haru's flat stomach and down between his legs to cup him gently and he hears Haru inhale sharply through his nose—

And then he finds himself on his back, once more, staring up with wide eyes at Haru.

Haru, who's panting softly with arousal, his face a shade of red he's never seen before, and looks nothing like his cool, usual self.

"Makoto," Haru tries to say calmly, but his voice is shaking, "if you don't stop trying to give back-for once in your life-and just let me take care of you, I'm going to tie you down."

He shifts uncomfortably above Makoto, reaching down to adjust his jammers as he stares balefully down at his best friend, and the brunet glances down to see why, and-

'Oh,' Makoto wonders faintly, 'it's me. I'm doing that to him.'

"Do you understand?" Haru asks with as much coolness as he can muster while suffering an aching erection, and Makoto nods his assent silently, because he's scared that he might smile, and offend his teammate.

"Just relax, okay?" Haru murmurs, in a much softer tone, and he shrugs off his own shirt before he settles himself comfortably between Makoto's legs, nudging them calmly apart with his elbows when they instinctively try to close.

Makoto can't stop staring down at him. Even when he wants to, when he shivers and squirms as Haru starts to kiss along his clavicle, licking and sucking along some invisible trail down his chest. Because he's seen Haru shirtless before (he's seen him naked before, too, dozens of times) but he's never let himself look.

That would only invite trouble; with Haru's milky skin and slender figure. His toned abs, lats and pecks, and his pale rosy nipples.

(For the brief time he did stare, years and years ago, if he indulged too much, he suffered dreams that he couldn't bring himself to fulfill in the morning.)

(Somehow, enjoying those few, pleasant dreams were worse than doing nothing.)

Makoto's always left the gawking to Gou, because she's never been shy about vocalizing what she likes.

Now, though, Makoto can't get enough-his eyes roaming desperately over Haru's shoulders, chest and back-trying to take in everything all at once.

Then Haru's mouth finds his nipple, and Makoto's eyes slam shut as he cries out hoarsely and thrusts up into Haru's amazing fantastic hotsowet mouth.

Distantly he feels Haru's hands gently grasp his hips, pushing him down into the mattress and he cascades his fingers restlessly through his dark hair.

"I—Haru, that's," Makoto chokes, head lolling to the side a little as Haru drags the fat of his tongue roughly over the hardening nub, and lurching forward with a cry when he closes his teeth gently around it and sucks gently.

"Is that good?" he asks calmly, his other hand idly sliding up Makoto's abs and stomach until his thumb and forefinger close lightly around the other.

"Is it too much?"

"Y-ngh, no—I think, I don't, it feels…it's so much," Makoto pants weakly, because his head is buzzing with the rush of blood in his head, and it's getting harder and harder for him to protest the heat building inside of him, and it's not so much nerve wracking as it is addicting, now.

Haru makes a soft, noncommittal sound against Makoto's skin, before renewing his ministrations with double the intent.

Makoto shudders as Haru's kisses trails progressively lower and lower, until he's nearly breathless, the air escaping him in long, loud moans faster than he can properly breathe when the raven-haired teen kisses down to his belly, nuzzling the soft skin just below his navel.

He bites his tongue, hard, because he doesn't understand the sudden frustration that's coiling tighter and tighter in his gut and makes him want to scream for, for something. For Haru to do something.

But what, he doesn't have the faintest idea. Because Haru is already doing something, doing everything—slowly driving him crazy with pleasure. And he doesn't think he wants Haru to stop, but Haru's slow kisses all over are quickly becoming nearly unbearable, and he's being loved all over, so patiently, so methodically, that he just doesn't get what Haru is trying to do.

Well. He has some vague ideas, but even trying to tentatively ponder them makes his cock twitch in a nearly unbearable way and it's really embarrassing and almost painful and just too much to take in all at once.

He never knew his sides were so ticklish just above his hips. He never knew stroking the small of his back would make his knees tremble. He never knew that his navel was so sensitive, until he gives a strangled yelp when Haru dips his tongue in and out, and he huffs a little when he can feel Haru smile against his skin before drawing back to drop a random, sweet kiss to Makoto's knee.

Makoto fights to keep watching Haru progressively move lower and lower, but eventually his eyes slide closed against the onslaught of sensation despite his best efforts.

—because it all feels so good.

Then his eyes snap open as a startled gasp escapes him when he feels Haru's fingers ghost over the hem of his pants.

"I want to see you," Haru says casually but earnestly, as if he's talking about the weather, and Makoto's face feels like it's on fire with how furiously he's blushing. "I want to be the first person, the only person, to have all of you, Makoto."

Makoto's speechless, and he turns his face away because even he can feel how dumb the face he's making must be, because he never thought that Haru's bluntness could be more than he can bear—but the honesty in how deeply he feels about him, in that cool tone, is a little too much for him to take.

"Haru," Makoto whimpers, folding an arm over his eyes as he tries to catch his breath, because everything's gone fuzzy and warm and it's too much sofast.

"Hey," he hears Haru say gently, voice dropping to a low, soothing murmur. He feels the bed dip as Haru shifts, and a hand runs over the back of his softly. "It's okay, Makoto. I'm gonna do it first."

Makoto's brow scrunches a little in confusion, and he peeks out from beneath his arm only for his eyes to grow huge as he watches Haru kick off his jammers, and suddenly his blood roars louder than ever in his ears as he stares at Haru's bare form.

"Haru," he says, barely breathing, "Haru, you're—god, you're beautiful," he says helplessly, unable to pry his eyes away from Haru. He lets his eyes travel slowly down Haru's figure - all the way from his face, strangely open and flushed with his praise, even the tips of his ears pink, down his sculpted chest and abs, and…and lower…until he can't tear his eyes away.

Because Haru is, Makoto swallows thickly…very gifted. His cock stands tall and proud where it curls against his belly, flushed with arousal and leaking precome. Haru looks calm and confident where he stands, utterly unconcerned and comfortable with his body. Makoto is inexplicably jealous all of a sudden; he wants to be that confident in his own skin, wishes he didn't feel so strangely terrified of his own body, and totally ignorant of how he works.

Haru's eyes search Makoto's, and it's as if he can see right through him after all, Makoto is sure of it, because he simply settles down at the edge of the bed and leans over to press a soft, chaste kiss to Makoto's lower lip. "This is new for me, too, Makoto, " Haru mumbles between short kisses to Makoto's face. "I might know a little more about myself than you do, but it's fine. We'll figure it out together. Figure you out."

Makoto's breath hitches at the way Haru's blue eyes darken with interest. "I want to know everything. Everything about Makoto," he says, and it sounds like a promise and it sends tingles rushing down Makoto's spine.

And then his hands are at Makoto's hips again, and his eyes are searching his own green ones for answer and Makoto simply closes them and gives the tiniest nod, lifting his hips to help Haru as he tugs his shorts down over his hips, and Makoto whimpers his embarrassment when his boxers get tugged down with them in one fluid motion.

So far, everything with Haru has been constant motion. Makoto hasn't even noticed until now.

He does though because suddenly, Haru freezes.

Slowly he cracks open one green eye, and then the other, staring up worriedly through his lashes at Haru, who doesn't even look like he's breathing.

"Is…Haru….are you…is theresomethingwrong?" Makoto asks, his voice a little higher than usual as panic threatens to burst into something like angry butterflies in his stomach.

That seems to get Haru's attention, because his head whips up and he pins Makoto with a Look that unequivocally screams 'no.'

Makoto isn't used to seeing such pure emotion on Haru's face-not unless they're near a body of water-so to have such a passionate look directed at him…

It makes his toes curl happily and a shy smile threatens to tug at the corners of his mouth and he thinks he could die happy if Haru always looked at him that way.

"Makoto, no," Haru breathes, his eyes shining with feeling as his gaze is helplessly drawn back down from Makoto's face, eyes roaming hungrily over his prone form. "You're…you look…"

Haru shakily covers his mouth with the back of his hand and Makoto blinks in concern when he simply shakes his head.

"I've thought about this so much, Makoto," Haru confesses, voice shaken. "I've dreamed about this for years. Dreamed about you for years."

His eyes flicker back to Makoto's face, expression so earnest it makes Makoto's cheeks pink. "You're the only one I've ever had feelings for. The only one I ever dreamt about, the only one I wanted to fantasize about. And it's just," Haru's voice breaks off, and he shakes his head as if he has water stuck in them. Makoto laughs weakly until he trails into silence, when Haru's bright, too blue eyes find his as he finally finds the words he's looking for.

"All the dreams I've ever had, combined, couldn't possibly do you justice."

It's too much for Makoto to bear, and he covers his mouth with his hands, eyes brimming with tears, because Haru's happy, happy with him, happier with him than whatever Makoto he dreams up, and he can't help but laugh and cry a little, overwhelmed with emotion.

Haru moves so he's hovering over Makoto, knees on either side of Makoto's trim waist and arms braced on either side of Makoto's head. Silently, he continues to let his eyes drink in their fill of his boyfriend, sprawled beneath him.

Makoto swears he can feel heat sear over his skin in the wake of Haru's heated gaze, and wonders how he can possibly feel any warmer.

And then Haru wraps his hand around Makoto's cock.

"Oh, god, Haru-!" Makoto gasps sharply, his voice breaking as his breath hitches loudly, painfully, and he forgets whatever he wanted to say, because heat and pleasure crashes over him harder than he could have ever imagined, and Haru hasn't even done anything yet—

"Fuck," Haru breathes, eyes glued to Makoto's face as he gently curls his fingers tighter and rips a wordless, hoarse cry from Makoto's throat - pulling a similar, desperate sound from Haru.

Makoto jerks and trembles with even the slightest move of Haru's hand, and Haru's eyes go dark and hungry as he pulls moan after moan from the brunet's lips.

"Oh, Makoto," Haru groans, his own cock twitching in sympathy whenever Makoto cries a little too loudly, or his hips snap up toward his touch. "You look so good like this."

Makoto wants to hide his face from Haru's sinfully smooth, low voice, but he can't seem to unclench his fingers where they're twisted into the covers for purchase.

"I-I- cant," Makoto chokes out through a shuddering breath, because his cock is throbbing in Haru's hand and he knows what's coming but he can't know what's coming.

Suddenly Makoto can't breathe; he can't take it anymore, it's altogether not enough and too much, at the same time. "It's—hah-Haru-! S'too-g-good, Haru-n-nghhaah-"

His back curves up and off the bed as Haru does something with his hand and Makoto does his best to lift his head, craning his neck to look and oh—

Oh fuck oh fuckHaru's jerking him off, taking his sweet time and teasing into a slow, painfully slow rhythm that has Makoto seeing stars with each flick of Haru's hand.

"Haru-Haru," Makoto sobs, and he's distantly aware that he's stuttering out a steam of nonstop nonsense, begging him to stop, please don't stop, so good, too good.

He needs Haru to understand, Haru has to understand – doesn't he know what he's doing to Makoto? Can't he tell it's too much for him to handle, he doesn't know how to—

Overwhelming need takes over Makoto, and panic crashes headlong into confusion. Makoto keens and thrashes as he tries to fight back what feels like too much, so much he's going to die-

"Makoto, let go," Haru says softly into his ear, kissing the skin just beneath gently.

"Can't, I can't," Makoto whimpers as he tries to shy away from Haru's touch because everywhere their bodies touch feels like it's on fire and there's a terrifying edge of something he's rocketing towards but he can't fall over he can't he doesn't know what it is—

"I've got you, Mako-chan, I'm here," Haru promises fervently, bracing his weight on his forearm as he plants it on the pillow above Makoto's head, leaning down to press his forehead to Makoto's with a shivery sigh, shifting, and then—

And then—

Makoto's eye fly open as Haru's cock slides against his own, and Haru's longer, slender fingers just barely manage to wrap around the both of them. Haru shudders over him, nuzzling his face against Makoto's, his hot breath fanning softly over his cheeks.

"S'okay," Haru gasps, eyes cloudy but fixed intently on Makoto's, "S'alright Makoto, I'm gonna go with you, 'kay? Together, we'll do it together."

Makoto couldn't stop the cresting wave of the unfamiliar if he wanted to, but the last, semi coherent thought he has is that he's glad Haru's going with him; because the slick hotwetsogood slide of their cocks rubbing together is too much for him on his own –

They cry out in tandem when, suddenly, there's even more – more heat, more touch, more pressure—and Haru's eyes snap open wide to meet Makoto's - because.

Oh. His hand is covering Haru's, his larger fingers clasped around and moving with Haru's, holding tight for dear life and.

Everything goes white.

Pleasure crashes over Makoto hard and fast, like nothing he could have ever dreamed up, and he thinks he might be screaming or crying or saying something, but it's okay. It's okay because Haru's solid weight over him anchors him, cradles him, and the panic crawling up his throat lets go and gives way to a lightheaded giddiness.

All he can think of is HaruHaruHaru did this, he came with me he promised he would and he's here - and there's hot, wet stickiness staining his and Haru's fingers to prove it (he knows in some small tiny insignificant part of his brain that he isn't really making any sense right now but he doesn't give a fuck).

Not when, for the first time he can remember, he feels absolutely peaceful.

There's a warmth tingling from the very tips of his fingers, all the way down to his curled toes, and the rush of blood and steadily slowing thudthudthud of his heart pounding in his ears is like the gentlest white noise he's ever heard and then.

And then there's Haru.

Haru who's covering him like a cocoon, draped over him like the most comfortable blanket Makoto's never had, and he's gently brushing his mouth over Makoto's face, kissing away the dampness from Makoto's cheeks (and oh, he's crying) but Haru doesn't say a word, merely smiling against Makoto's flushed cheeks as he whispers praise after praise, mumbling thank you after thank you, thank you Makoto, I love you Makoto, thank you for being Makoto, and Makoto lets out a slightly drunken sounding laugh because Haru's just as out of it as he is.

Finally Haru pulls back to search Makoto's face. "Hey," he whispers, as if afraid to break the peace.

Makoto smiles crookedly back, "Hi, Haru-chan," he laughs breathlessly, chest still heaving beneath Haru's, but the other boy doesn't seem to mind if the way he nods (short and satisfied) and settles his cheek down into the hollow of Makoto's throat is any indication.

"Was that okay?" The question is barely audible over the harsh, short pants Makoto is making but it's Haru and he's always been able to catch Haru's softest mumble, and Makoto smiles even though Haru can't see it.

"That was amazing, Haru," he gushes back, a little shyly. And Haru nods against his shoulder, shifting the arm splayed over their heads down to wrap around Makoto's waist before he stills once more.

"Yeah," Haru agrees quietly. "I…that was a first for me, too Makoto," he mumbles, and Makoto swears he can feel Haru's face burn against his shoulder. "I've never done anything like…that with anyone before."

Makoto jerks in surprise, gaping down at the top of Haru's hair. "That—what—really?" he finally manages weakly, trying desperately to see Haru's face. All he can see, though, is the way Haru's hair flutters as he nods again once, shortly.

"But you…you were so sure about what you were doing," Makoto says, dazed. Haru huffs a laugh against his damp skin and finally raises his head to gaze at Makoto with fond, knowing eyes.

"I've woken up from that dream a hundred times, Makoto – that doesn't mean I know what I'm doing," Haru snorts, but he looks inordinately pleased, so Makoto guesses it's alright.

"I'm glad it was with you," Makoto whispers finally, and Haru stills for a moment on top of him, but then curls ever tighter around his taller boyfriend, tangling their legs together and gripping their sticky fingers tighter.

"I love that I got to see that face for the first time you ever made it," Haru confesses. "It was amazing."

Makoto swears his face can't get any hotter. "It was probably really stupid," he bemoans, covering his face with his free hand. Haru shakes his head vehemently. "No, it was really sexy," Haru insists, a slightly far away, dreamy look passing over his cool features. "I'll never forget it…" his smile morphs into a smirk and he looks at Makoto so hungrily that Makoto's breath hitches. "Now I'll always have to strive to make you make that face every time."

"Haru!" Makoto half yells, half squeaks. "That's so dirty!"

Haru lets out a considering hum, and Makoto's heart both flutters and sinks at the way Haru's tilted his way in the way that means he's decided to accept some challenge.

He's only ever seen it when Haru's about to make a particularly gargantuan effort to make a run for some sort of body of water he is absolutely, under no circumstances, not ever allowed to indulge in.

"No," he lilts, "that's not nearly as dirty as this," and he raises their hands to pop one of his and one of Makoto's fingers into his mouth to suck clean.

Makoto shrieks, and Haru nearly falls off both Makoto and the bed in surprise and he scrambles to cover his mouth.

"Makoto," he gasps a laugh, "Makoto I'm sorry, look, it doesn't even taste bad," and he keeps his sticky palm presses over Makoto's mouth until the green eyed teen gives a tiny, tentative lick with a shudder, cheeks scarlet.

"I-I guess so," he says reluctantly, when Haru removes his hand expectantly. Haru rolls his eyes but he's fighting a smile as he tucks himself beside Makoto, and they're quickly lulled into a drowsy, half-aware state from both afterglow and sheer exhaustion.

"There's so much I want to learn about you, Makoto," Haru whispers just as Makoto feels himself nodding off, and he makes a tiny, questioning sound as he tilts his face towards Haru's.

"I want to know the way you taste when I kiss you in the morning. I want to know if the way you say my name is different when I make you cum with my mouth, instead of my fingers. I want to know the face you make when I'm inside you," he murmurs, and now Makoto gasps at the feeling of arousal curling low in his belly at Haru's words, (he delights, with no small amount of satisfaction, that he can place a name to the feeling for the first time).

"Haru, that's…" Makoto trails off, ducking his head to tuck his head beneath Haru's to hide his smile of anticipation. "I'd like that," he whispers back. "All of it. A lot."

••∞• Owari •∞••

A/N: So this got away from me. Again. Moreso than any of the other fills or fics before. Because this monstrosity is going on thirty pages. So yes. Um.

MERRY CHRISTMAS! AND HAPPY HOLIDAYS! Please accept this as my (late) humble Christmas present to all you lovely people out there~

I hope you enjoyed. Writing the others was kinda hard; figuring out how I thought they'd be buzzed going on drunk (or gone, in Nagisa's case) was even harder - OH WELL I GUESS I'LL HAVE TO START PRACTICING WITH THE OTHERS MORE /frolics off

P.S. I may or may not decide to update this later with even more action. I just did this thing I tend to do, where I over-think what I'm writing (yes even smut, shush don't speak) and stumped myself, because I really wanted to write them going all the way and already started on that, but then I had intense feelings that Haru wouldn't possibly do so much to Makoto all in one go because he knows how sensitive Mako-chan is and wouldn't want to break him~

tl;dr, this might get an epilogue later where these two do go all the way, if I feel like coming back to it.

But in any case, please lemme know what you think! I haven't written something this serious in a while, and I figured it was actually a pretty good writing workout to let some plot have a chance to develop.

Please Read and Review~