"You have too much hair."
Yuuma bites back another cry of pain as he drags the brush through Shark's — his — Shark's thick, purple locks. He normally just rolls out of bed and drags a comb through his before rushing out the door, and now that he's experiencing what Shark experiences he feels bad for complaining that Shark takes so much longer than he does to get ready.
Behind him, Shark-in-Yuuma's-body is fiddling with his clothes. It's weird to see himself scowl so deeply — Yuuma can never get hat kind of intensity out of his own face, but when Shark does it, he makes Yuuma's features unrecognizable — and the way he yanks at the hems makes Yuuma think he's going to say something cutting about Yuuma's clothing choices.
"Whatever," Shark grumbles. He stares at himself in the mirror. "You know none of the colors in this actually match, right?"
"They look cool," Yuuma says through clenched teeth. There's a knot on the back of his head that's refusing all attempts to untangle it. "You never said anything about it before!"
"Why would I? I didn't have to wear them!"
"You make my voice sound weird."
"You make my voice sound weirder!"
They glare at each other for a few moments, and Yuuma tries to brush his hair angrily and only hurts himself. He can't help himself then.
Yuuma bursts out laughing, and Shark actually jumps. Of course, Yuuma thinks, he's not used to the sound of his own laugh. That thought takes away any ill will he was feeling; it's not Shark's fault they've switched bodies, and Shark's laugh sounds nice, even though it's really Yuuma's laugh in his voice, and Yuuma holds out the brush to him.
"Can you do it for me? It's all knotted."
Shark takes the brush and comes to stand behind him. He's much gentler about it than Yuuma is, but after a minute or so he stops.
"You should probably shower first. My hair needs to be washed."
"Oh."
Yuuma blushes. He's seen Shark naked before, but this is different; it feels like he's intruding on Shark by taking over the little intimacies of his life. He can see Shark's expression in the mirror, and when he's awkward it looks like Yuuma's face again.
"I can do it for you."
The thought of Shark looking at him naked makes him even more nervous, somehow. Yuuma wonders if being in Yuuma's body will make Shark less enamored of it, will somehow shatter Shark's illusions that Yuuma is desirable. Losing control of his body has made him suddenly insecure about it.
But Shark is just looking at him, fingers toying with the hem of his shirt again, and Yuuma thinks: he's scared too, so we might as well be scared together.
"Sure."
He's never used Shark's shower, either, and it's one of those big glass ones with two showerheads, one on each side. Shark goes and brings back a second towel while Yuuma plays with the shower handle, trying to get the water hot but not too hot.
Shark uses conditioner, and all his soap smells really good. That explains a lot.
"You gonna get in?" He comes in behind Yuuma, the towel in his arms.
"…right." Yuuma shrugs off the jacket; he can feel Shark's eyes on him as he strips off his shirt, and he turns around so he can finish. The bathroom feels too warm; maybe it's the steam, Yuuma thinks, maybe he isn't red and sweaty all over with nerves.
When he looks over his shoulder, Shark is naked, and Yuuma's body looks odd to his eyes. Maybe it's Shark's stance, or just that Yuuma doesn't usually look at himself so closely, but it looks worse and worse the more he stares.
Shark clears his throat.
Yuuma gets into the shower.
Eyes closed, the hot water streaming down over him, Yuuma slowly lets himself relax. He can hardly hear Shark behind him; he can almost forget what's happening. Then he reaches up to his hair and feels the weight of it, and as he runs his fingers through it, trying to work the water all the way in, all the tension returns.
"Here," Shark says, and he nudges Yuuma down onto his knees. The tile under Yuuma's knees is cold, and he shivers a little, only because of that, as Shark's fingers wind through his hair. Just because of the tile, Yuuma lies to himself, and he lets his head fall forward.
Having his hair washed is an experience.
Shark's hands knead his scalps and tugs gently through his hair; Yuuma keeps his eyes shut as soapy water runs down his face. The pressure against his head is nice, soothing, and the hot water beats down on him. The soap gets lathered in and washed out and Yuuma feels like the tension and the self-consciousness has been massaged right out of him.
He feels very close to Shark, and when Shark's hands slide down to his shoulders, slide forward and around him so that Shark's chin is on his, shoulder, Yuuma just leans into him. He runs a hand absently over his chest, feeling Shark's muscles ad Shark's skin — it feels different when Yuuma is on the other side, the recipient of his sensations — and it's very pleasant.
His palm is between his legs before he even thinks about it.
"Shark…"
"Yeah." Shark's hand slides down over his own. "Here, let me…"
There is a disorienting moment when Yuuma wraps his fingers around his cock and it doesn't feel right; what has become routine is disrupted, everything new again in Shark's body. It's different, and Yuuma moves slowly, palm scraping wetly over sensitive skin, trying to figure out what it is that Shark likes. It's like going back in time, fumbling between his legs like a boy again, and Shark's fingers close over his own to guide him.
The rhythm is easy, if unfamiliar, and Yuuma learns quickly what it is Shark's body wants.
"Ah." He bites his lip. Shark's mouth trails over his shoulder, his fingers still loose over Yuuma's, his breath hot over his skin. Precome is dripping freely from the tip of his cock now; Yuuma slicks the tips of his fingers with it as he strokes himself, harder and faster, Shark's teeth against his neck urging him on — and apparently Shark has a thing about being bitten, because that does something to Yuuma and he spills over the edge.
Yuuma pants as the water streams over them. He feels like if Shark lets go of him, he will fall apart.
It takes him time to compose himself, and it's not until his breathing even outs that Yuuma becomes aware of the fact that Shark is hard against him from behind.
"Do you want me to…?" Yuuma gestures vaguely. Shark nods, and Yuuuma tursn so that he's facing Shark. There's water coming down on both their backs.
Shark is flushed, but his legs are open; he meets Yuuma's eyes. They're Yuuma's eyes, bright and red, but that is Shark's expression all the same. The familiarity of it makes it easier; Yuuma reaches out. He takes one of Shark's hands.
Shark wraps the other hand around his cock, and Yuuma watches him. He's impatient, much rougher with himself than Yuuma is; he frowns and readjusts and squeezes himself, unused to Yuuma's body. Yuuma wants to bat his hands aside and do it for him, but he resists; Shark let him fool around, after all, so it's only fair.
He can't resist saying one thing. "I usually finger myself, too."
"Oh," Shark says, and Yuuma can tell he's starting to enjoy himself because it comes out breathy. "Yeah?"
"Yeah." Yuuma nudges his legs further apart, and slides a hand underneath, and Shark gives in and lies back on the tile. His hair is wet and flat, stuck to his forehead at an odd angle. He continues to jerk himself off, slowly, while Yuuma gently presses a fingertip against his entrance, testing.
When Yuuma penetrates him, two fingers buried deep inside him, Shark arches up off the floor. The hand that Yuuma is still holding squeezes Yuuma's fingers, and Yuuma squeezes back, encouragingly; he waits. Shark relaxes. His hand starts to move over his cock again, and he whimpers a little, and Yuuma takes that as permission to go on fingering him.
Shark can hardly bear it, and he squirms around on the floor while Yuuma stimulates them and he jerks himself off furiously and he's noisy, much noisier than Yuuma normally is, using Yuuma's voice in ways Yuuma never has. He makes Yuuma's body beautiful, and Yuuma has never been happier to know how to make himself feel good, and he doesn't let up — not until Shark gasps his name, not until Shark is undone, until he's trembling on the floor while the water around them goes cold.
The water washes them clean, but it's no longer comfortable in the shower, and they clamber out before it can get any colder. The towels hanging on the rack are warm and fluffy, and Yuuma dries himself off gratefully before he attempts to wrap the towel around his wet, heavy hair.
It looks easy enough, but after watching him struggle Shark sighs and helps him. That leaves him naked, but Yuuma doesn't feel particularly ashamed at the moment. He walks out of the bathroom, deliciously aware of Shark's eyes on him, and into the bedroom.
It's hard to be self-conscious of Shark's body; it is, after all, one that Yuuma particularly likes.
He flops down on Shark's bed, and Shark sits on the edge of it next to him. Shark reaches out, touches Yuuma's thigh, hand coming close to where Yuuma would like it but not close enough.
"I wanna try something —"
"I love you." (It's selfish, but Shark is slow to say it, and Yuuma wants to hear it in Shark's voice.)
Yuuma watches Shark blush — does he look that way when he blushes, it is kind of cute, no wonder Shark is such an asshole about it — and waits.
"Shut up," Shark grumbles, and he flips Yuuma over without any apparent effort; rolled onto his stomach, Yuuma figures Shark's powers must have transferred over when they were switched.
He tries to understand why, but Shark nudges him up onto his hands and knees, and then then he is on top of Yuuma, heavy and warm. This must be what it's like for Shark, he thinks, since this is how they normally do it.
There's something terribly erotic about taking Shark's place, about how this is the same and yet it's completely different, in the way that Shark's mouth on his back is electric on his skin, nerves tingling. He lets his head drop down against the pillows, breathes in the smell of Shark that lingers there while Shark presses against him. He can feel Shark's cock bumping into him, leaving wet streaks on him.
"Shh," Shark whispers, even though Yuuma is silent but for the sound of his breathing, and then he pushes in — pain, as Yuuma is stretched, and then pleasure, and Shark is more sensitive than he is because Yuuma knows it's not usually this intense for him, not immediately but —
Shark holds him down with his weight, and fucks him hard, and Yuuma mewls into the pillow because it's too much effort to lift his head. Impossible to concentrate when Shark is inside him; he can hear Shark's harsh panting and he thinks yes, I did that, he wants me.
Nothing is better than knowing that.
He can't last very long, and he finishes before Shark does, moaning as he comes, arching back against him; Shark takes longer, and Yuuma is deliciously sore by the time he's done, coming hot and wet inside him.
They flop down on the bed afterward. Shark lies on his stomach beside him, head on folded arms, Yuuma splayed on on his back beside him. Yuuma marvels at the contrast of their skin for a moment, and he stares down the line of his body, at the bumps in his spine he can't see on his own, at the shifts of muscle as Shark moves. He wonders what it is Shark is seeing, if he admires himself when Yuuma is wearing his body, if he too wonders if he is worth wanting.
As if he can read Yuuma's thoughts, Shark turns and looks at him.
"What?"
"I think I would love you even if you looked different," Shark says; he can't quite hold Yuuma's gaze anymore, but Yuuma can read the meaning of the way he ducks his head, knows there's a smile under there, and he thinks that Shark's shyness is endearing, somehow, the self-consciousness that only comes when Shark is telling him the truth.
"I know what you mean," Yuuma says, and he can imagine, tomorrow when they are themselves again, he will never again smile without touching his mouth and thinking that once, it was Shark's smile, and Yuuma made him feel that way.