Disclaimer: All characters appearing in this work are fictitious; I own nothing but my ideas.
Written to a never-ending loop of Feels Like Coming Home by Jetta, which was found through Google Zeitgeist 2013. I've always had a thing for long-distance, army-guy relationships, just because. Unbeta-ed.
Kuroko opens his eyes blearily to the morning light and blinks, eyebrows furrowing. His senses register to him slowly; an arm is thrown over his stomach as legs are wrapped around his thighs. Kagami's chest is pressed against his cheek and he can smell the other's aftershave mixing with musk, and them.
He can remember last night, fast and heated and good. Kagami's enlistment has them separated for more then what's acceptable, but neither of them mind much when he's finally off that plane, pressed against Kuroko and his warmth. They can never get to each other faster, yet every time their gazes meet, it's like the world has stopped rotation. Nothing around them matters.
Every time, Kuroko feels like he's been plunged into the murky depths of the ocean and being resuscitated frantically on shore at the same time. He can barely catch his breath but it's like he can finally breathe again when he takes Kagami in, different from the last time he stayed over. His throat is clogged and when their lips meet (it's been so long), Kuroko's are always dry from gaping (gasping, breath catching).
Their hands find each other's skin again, slowly and hesitantly behind closed doors. Kagami remaps Kuroko's unblemished skin and Kuroko probes calluses, kisses scars. His tears threaten to spill over, are wiped with the pads of Kagami's thumbs before they can, and his whimpers wrack his body, soon smothered by a fond mouth.
I've missed you, I'm sorry, I love you.
Kuroko is always as tight as their first time and Kagami takes his time opening him up, littering kisses down his torso, along the backs of his knees. The sheets wrinkle under their bodies and Kuroko grips Kagami's shoulders enough to bruise.
I'm here, I'm here, Kagami whispers into his skin and what he wouldn't give to make this the truth all the time. Stay, stay, stay, Kuroko chants, in between inhales and pants and Kagami-kun's. Their bed knocks against the wall; the neighbor knocks back. Kuroko is torn between watching where they intersect and watching Kagami's face but figures he has the night to alternate, then urges Kagami to pick up speed.
There are no complaints on the other end, predictably.
—
Kagami knows his enlistment takes a heavy toll on Kuroko, hell, it takes a heavy toll on both of them. When he's away, he can only think of nimble fingers brushing through his hair and irises like the sky just before dawn breaks. When he straps on bulletproof vests, he imagines Kuroko adjusting his ties and when he checks his weapons, he imagines Kuroko grazing over the safeties.
Phone calls home are expensive and letters take forever; Kagami needs to know how Kuroko is now, not how he was a week ago. Still, he brushes out creases made by his anger and tucks each piece of elegant script in a reenforced box. The latest letters always settle in the pocket closest to his chest and the edges are always worn before being replaced by the next.
After stepping off the walkway, Kagami scans the crowd with vigor, eyes softening with affection as light blue locks are located. He maneuvers through the throng of people and reaches out, locking his hand around a small wrist. Bringing it up to his lips, he brushes them against a pulse and Kuroko's cheeks color as if Kagami didn't do this every time.
When they get home, clothes are just barriers between them, space another. Kagami strips the cloth from Kuroko's skin and gets his own pushed away. They come together and it's like atoms combusting, each touch leaving behind electricity in its wake.
Kuroko whole frame shakes and Kagami hates himself for it, always having to fix problems that he causes. His apologies and reassurances ghost over Kuroko's skin and he can only hope that they are enough (they aren't). As he pulls out, Kuroko just insists he push back in just as fast, if not faster.
The sound of skin slapping against skin fills the room, accompanied by Kuroko's desperate gasps and mewls, and is punctuated by creaking springs. Kagami surges forward to meet Kuroko as he arches his spine, crying out and pushing Kagami deeper still. His cum plasters over their stomachs, only to be rubbed in as they continue moving and not long after, Kagami shudders to a slow stop.
Removing himself, he watches his fluid drip from Kuroko, who reaches down and coats his fingers in it, bringing them to his mouth. His eyes are hooded and Kagami leans forward again to lock their lips together, tonguing his own taste lazily.
When they pull back, they both smile and get lost within the sheets, momentarily forgetting what the near future entails.
—
Two weeks later, Kuroko watches forlornly as a plane lifts from the runway, adjusting to the cloudless sky. In turn, Kagami never takes his eyes from his window seat, even as the city buildings become nothing but shapes on the ground. I'm off, Kagami mouths at his reflection, the same time Kuroko murmurs, have a safe trip (please come back soon).
Before long, both become accustomed to cold beds and empty spaces and gut-wrenching loneliness. It's better during the day, when Kagami has adrenaline coursing through his veins and Kuroko has the lives of the future generation in his hands. However, when dusk falls, Kuroko's legs twist in the empty bedsheets and Kagami's fingers rub the picture of them together absently.
They love and long and we're gonna make it, somehow rings through their minds, signed in postscripts and stamped across envelopes. That's all that counts.
So when Kagami's enlistment period comes to an end, he doesn't rush off the plane because it's the middle of the night and Kuroko doesn't know. He takes the bus, watching as neon signs flicker in the night and waits until it halts at his street. Quietly unlocking the front door, he drops his belongings on the ground and climbs into bed behind Kuroko, pulling him close. Kuroko stirs but otherwise remains asleep, only pushing himself back into Kagami and settling in again, fingers curled next to his face.
Kagami breathes Kuroko in and thinks, I'm home.