Masamune knew before he even opened his eye that morning.
The first clue was the immediate tenderness in his throat, a lingering caress of subtle embers that flared when he swallowed and would mercilessly burn the moment he fueled it with the oxygen of his voice. Breathing with careful hesitance so as to avoid inflaming his sore throat, he began to notice icy fingers of wind that had slipped through the cracks in the room were dragging up his limbs, leaving rugged trails of goosebumps behind. Even as he lay there, frozen with the remnants of sleep tugging at his hazy mind, he was aware of a single ugly fact: today was the first snow of the year.
Cringing from the malicious air, he struggled to untangle his legs from the vines of his blanket so he could have a proper barrier between himself and the newborn winter. After a fierce battle, he managed to free his ankles at last and burrowed deeper into the fading warmth of his refuge. A pathetic, broken whimper escaped his beaten throat as he curled up, trying to contain the last of the sunlight from his dream as much as possible and mourning the life of his old heater - it had fought valiantly, but ultimately succumbed to the cruel hand of time.
Just as he was losing his grip on his consciousness, something slammed into his head. With a startled yelp, Masamune jerked his head up from the safety of the covers and looked around blearily. His gaze finally settled on the blurry figure standing by the side of his bed, brandishing a pillow like a sword.
"Masamune! This is not a day to be wasted," declared Yukimura, his free hand on his hip and his back straight as he pointed the pillow at Masamune, the very picture of energy and wakefulness. "You must get out of bed." Masamune stared at him wordlessly and then pulled the blanket back over his head when his eye began to sting from the waves of unadulterated vitality pouring off the man.
"Hey- Wait!" Yukimura's hand chased Masamune's retreat and grabbed the edge of the blanket. He was far more coordinated, having the advantage of actually waking up in the morning, and Masamune's strength had been robbed by the the night. Yukimura easily wrested the makeshift shield from his lover's clumsy grasp, receiving a childish whine in response. Sighing, he tugged it back and pressed a kiss to Masamune's forehead.
"The landscape is truly beautiful outside," he said, tone softening. "It would be foolish to allow this opportunity to pass by."
Masamune shut his eye, stilling his body as though in compliance. The moment was enough to activate his brain once again, even if it wasn't running at full capacity quite yet. As soon as he sensed Yukimura's guard was lowered, he pounced, yanking the blanket from Yukimura's loosened grip and fleeing into its downey shelter once more. Yukimura was quick to respond, however, only hesitating in surprise for a moment before diving after Masamune. Feeling out the thin arcs of Masamune's wrists, he pinned them to the bed through the blanket, nudging back the covers with his chin. He finally excavated Masamune's disgruntled face once again, a smile gracing his lips as he observed the bird's nest his lover's hair had become.
Leaning his forehead against Masamune's, Yukimura said cheerfully, "Good morning. Will you be speaking today?"
"You're too loud," Masamune mumbled back, voice still cracked from sleep, rough around the edges due to the weather's personal attack on his throat. Frowning, he leveled his gaze with Yukimura but was unable to hide his objective when his eye flicked down to Yukimura's mouth and then back up. Yukimura laughed as Masamune went ahead with the kiss anyway, an innocent brush of lips - at least, it was innocent, until Masamune decided to give Yukimura a sharp nip, which was quickly returned and escalated. Yukimura shifted his knees onto the mattress, gaining a greater vantage point as he urged Masamune to open his mouth with his tongue. Masamune accepted, and though the kiss was deep, it was with a low buzz of passion rather than a flurry of unbridled fire. The brightness of the morning was still slow and ginger, sticky from the molasses of sleep.
Yukimura released Masamune's wrists in favor of cupping his cheeks, lifting his chin up to accommodate a better angle. Masamune's hands dug through the heavy blanket and made their way to Yukimura's waist, trailing a little underneath his shirt. It was nice, comfortable - Masamune almost felt bad about ending it, but that tiny pinprick of guilt was easily overwhelmed with sheer satisfaction when he shoved Yukimura over onto his back, rolling with him to straddle his legs and pulling the blanket that was still caught between them over Yukimura's head to trap him. Laughing, the sound still harsher than normal but no less filled with amusement, Masamune watched as Yukimura flailed uselessly against his unexpected captor. The blanket was thick, rendering all of his attempts ineffective. It was too pathetic and too early to be merciless so Masamune drew back the covers and kissed Yukimura on the nose in apology, though his cheeky grin was not one that encouraged forgiveness.
"It's warmer under the blankets, ya see," Masamune offered as an explanation.
"That was highly dishonorable of you," Yukimura huffed.
"So it wasn't dishonorable of you to hit me with a pillow and then restrain me?" Masamune shot back without bite. He nuzzled Yukimura's hair to prove his affections had not been permanently damaged, adding, "I didn't realize I fell in love with a hypocrite."
Yukimura flushed a bit at Masamune's admission. "I... suppose you're right," he said slowly. "And for that, I sincerely apologize."
Masamune narrowed his eye, a devious shadow falling over his face. "I don't accept," he replied, feigning irritation. Yukimura's head snapped up, mouth falling open in confusion at the sudden change in mood.
"What? Why not?" The earnest distress in his expression almost made Masamune break his facade.
Sighing overdramatically, he shook his head. "I just don't know if I can trust you anymore."
"I would walk to the very ends of the earth for you," Yukimura pleaded, "so I implore you, allow me to prove I am a capable and honest lover! Name it and I will abide."
With a smirk, Masamune leaned over and bit Yukimura's earlobe lightly, whispering, "Stay in bed with me." He deliberately added a hot puff of air over the shell for good measure. He could no longer hold back a chuckle when he pulled back and saw Yukimura's face match the color of his scarlet shirt, his sweet brown eyes going infinitely wide.
"Truly," Yukimura began, pausing to lick his suddenly dry lips and that was totally unfair, Masamune was supposed to be the one doing the seducing, "you are a deceitful man." Masamune moved down to Yukimura's neck, easing his desire with a small taste, though it was not nearly enough.
"Punish me, then," Masamune purred against Yukimura's heated skin, licking at the artery before attaching his mouth to the target, sucking and nipping. The hitch in Yukimura's already stuttering oxygen flow only encouraged him.
"I-" Yukimura interrupted himself, covering his mouth with a trembling hand when Masamune traveled down to work on his clavicle, leaving marks all around the base of his neck. He tilted his head back to invite Masamune further, eyes sliding shut. "You're- dishonest," he said breathily, "and cunning. I suppose it is my- my duty to teach you about your wrongdoings."
"Make me." It was a challenge. Yukimura accepted immediately, surging up to push Masamune away enough to wrench the covers out from under him, then shoving him back down against the bed hard, already tugging impatiently at Masamune's shirt as he claimed his mouth once more. Masamune liked to draw things out with subtle touches, darting all over the body, but Yukimura was straightforward and knew what he wanted; he never hesitated to go right in for a blazing kiss that knocked the wind out of Masamune. Of course, that was not to say that Masamune was a pushover in that respect. He refused to submit either, fighting back in a kiss that was more teeth than lips, the uncomfortable shock of each clack spurring them on further rather than giving them pause.
Despite the smoldering flame of Yukimura's onslaught, in the absence of the blanket, Masamune was soon reminded of why he had been hanging onto it in the first place. Wherever Yukimura was not touching - which was almost everywhere as Yukimura was only human and had a limited capacity for such things - the chill of the snow frosted over Masamune's skin. Without breaking the precious contact of Yukimura's mouth on his (or perhaps in would be a better description), he groped for the discarded blanket. Hooking it with his fingers, he heaved it up over the both of them, enclosing them in their own little bubble.
Yukimura temporarily ceased his shameless pillage of the inside of Masamune's cheek, having been caught off-guard. The light was blocked out by the blanket as well and Masamune could only dimly make out the crinkle of his brow and the slight jutting of his lower lip. He wanted to kiss it until it was smooth again but instead he took the opportunity to remove the pesky shirt Yukimura was still wearing. That brought Yukimura's attention back to the matter at hand and he made quick work of Masamune's oversized nightshirt. As he leaned forward, the covers seemed to settle around them, sinking, oozing into every empty space and pressing, pressing them down, pressing ever closer.
It was hot, suffocating, a furnace just between the two of them. The air cut off, they breathed through each other, life passing between their lips. Masamune generally hated feeling caged in, needed freedom like he needed his own heartbeat, but the electricity sparking with every touch restarted his pulse. Yukimura, pressed flush against his chest by the claustrophobic heat, was drowning him, had him gasping for breath between desperate kisses, his only source of oxygen, and maybe, he mused dazedly in the back of his asphyxiated mind, it was the sudden deprivation of air that was responsible for the intensity, or perhaps the darkness heightened the force of their contact. Either way, when he felt his pajama pants sliding off and blessedly cool fingers curling around him, he could only hiss in relief, his louder cries smothered - there was no space, not even for sound. Exhaling in stifled moans, Masamune dragged his nails down Yukimura's back, digging in with every twist and jerk of that blistering hand. It was the ice of an inferno rather than of winter licking at his skin now, consuming him, devouring him. He felt he would be crushed into dust, at the mercy of the whims of wavering breezes, unable to decide for himself whether or not he would be swept away and scattered to the far corners of the planet.
And then, then Yukimura stopped biting at his bottom lip, stopped his wonderful, awful hand. Masamune still could not find the breath to speak so he was about to punch him to demonstrate his displeasure at this development, but then Yukimura's head was ducking down, tracing his collarbone with that scorching tongue, his chest, fluttering kisses along his abdomen, and Masamune swore his heart gave out from the heavily accumulated pressure invading every one of his senses. His nose was saturated with the musk of humidity, the sweat melting off their bodies from the heat, permeating the air. His eye was blurred, filled with the consuming black of sights unseen behind overpowering flashes of imagined starlight. He could taste salt on his tongue, iron steeling his teeth like armor, blood scarring his lip like a trophy. All he could hear was the ringing, the battle cry of the silence impressing itself into his ears, seeping into his skull, vibrating his very core with its might.
But all of these came to his nerves as if through water. He was only faintly aware of these sensations, washed of their potency. It was as if every particle of his being had narrowed its focus, greedily absorbing Yukimura's featherlight touches as they paved their scalding trail, further and further.
When that fervid pyre descended on his cock, any remaining air Masamune might have been able to keep contained was sucked out of his lungs into the void. He fumbled a ghost of a cry, but its spirit was drained before it had even formed in his throat and all that came out was an empty choke. The white heat enveloped him, suppressing him from every side, binding him tighter, tighter, ever tighter.
And then the pressure was released, but only for an instant. He grasped wildly for oxygen, mouth wide in a muted scream, but almost immediately he was slamming it shut again when the inferno blazed lower, forcing inside him and he wanted to object, wanted to scold Yukimura because that was just- filthy but God-
He needed something in his mouth, anything, or he was going to strangle himself on the sheer emptiness. Yukimura's tongue was hot, ravaging his insides, but it was not enough.
Blindly, Masamune floundered for Yukimura, somehow managing to hit his hand. He clung to it, shakily hauling a finger up to his lips, sucking it in, groaning soundlessly around it. He could feel Yukimura shivering, could sense the tremors disrupting the waves of simmering heat inside him, which only encouraged him and he slid three more of those beautiful fingers between his teeth, coating them with his saliva. Though Yukimura removed his tongue, leaving Masamune to be immersed in the frigid emptiness once more, a weird kind of satisfaction bubbled up in his stomach when Yukimura pulled his fingers away and they glinted wetly in the darkness, a light in a tunnel of nothing.
Then Masamune was being invaded again, the fingers insistent as they claimed the abandoned space. They were not torches, not by any means, but they were far more filling, reaching higher and deeper. He could not help but notice their eccentric movements and he could have laughed if he were not constricted so; Yukimura was still the same overenthusiastic, clumsy dork as ever.
The amusement was but a passing thought that entertained his attention until the fingers were gone and finally Yukimura was perched between his legs, nudging them gently apart with a timidness that contradicted the passion he had just been exhibiting. Masamune sought out Yukimura's hair and brought him down to fill his mouth once more. Incited, Yukimura's advance became more aggressive and he bore down on Masamune, simultaneously anchoring his thighs with sturdy hands as he began to penetrate him.
Yukimura's cock inside him ignited Masamune to his very roots. It was like an infestation at first, mere coals being thrust once more into a dying hearth to fester until it kindled. Then, catching fire, the licking of the heat assaulted him from the inside-out. It was oppressive, the way it ravished his body, the way Yukimura rocked into him with all his strength and Masamune could only claw at his back, vainly trying to just hang on. The desire to say anything, anything at all, a curse or a prayer, or Yukimura's name, which encompassed both, caught in his throat. He satisfied himself instead with pouring his words into Yukimura's mouth, speaking with his tongue and teeth alone through the overwhelming heat.
The tension mounted, constraining them; Masamune suddenly experienced the surreal feeling of being absolutely and utterly filled but helplessly hollow. Need, like an ugly flower, burst into bloom in his chest and he crushed Yukimura tighter against him, in him. He would never be satisfied until Yukimura was his, body and soul, and he Yukimura's. Almost frantically, Masamune latched onto him, curling his legs around Yukimura's waist to trap him there, keep him forever, don't leave, never leave-
He was vaguely conscious of Yukimura's lips wandering down to his neck, biting it almost lazily in comparison to the violent flow of their bodies, a twisted dance of give and take, moving with the sole goal of becoming one, as if the more strength they exhausted, the closer they would merge. Masamune grit his teeth, angling his head to expose his skin completely and Yukimura eagerly took the opportunity to suck and lav until he was sure the bite mark was now an enduring discoloration - no, such a description was grotesque. It did not capture the essence of Yukimura on his skin, taking him so wholly, so thoroughly that, even when separated, all that resided in his mind, his spirit, his heart, was Yukimura.
Masamune, delirious from suffocation, from the all-consuming void, finally mustered up the breath through his cracked lungs to hiss between gnashed teeth, "Yukimura- God, please-" Yukimura seemed to explode at the desperate plea, his fingers burning through the skin of Masamune's thighs, branding him as his hips pressed closer, pushing inside him, filling him until there was nothing left.
And then, all at once, the pressure evaporated. Yukimura tore the blanket away and air, precious oxygen rushed into Masamune's lungs and he gasped, mouth gaping as Yukimura enclosed his lips once more with his own, inhaling the breath right from him and it was all just too much. Masamune could no longer hold himself back and his cock throbbed as he came, Yukimura swallowing his wanton howl. His voice would not contain itself now that he had the air to support it and he wasted no time in making use of it, crying out, moaning his pleasure against Yukimura's tongue, wordlessly telling him to never stop, never leave, he loved him so desperately, needed an equal so completely that it consumed him.
Yukimura pulsed inside him, saturating his entire being and Masamune could not remember the last time he had felt so utterly satisfied. He did not allow his legs, still wrapped tightly around Yukimura's waist, to fall; he was comfortable like this, with Yukimura permeating him so intimately. Spent and weak from fatigue, they both collapsed in a boneless heap on the bed.
After a few minutes of simply breathing, stilling their pounding hearts, Yukimura finally shifted his weight off of Masamune's chest. He moved to pull out from him, but Masamune tugged him closer in again.
"Not yet," he whispered. His voice had already been coarse, but now it was raw. "Stay in bed with me. Just a little longer."
A profound fondness softened Yukimura's tired eyes and he embraced Masamune, rolling them both onto their sides and nuzzling his nose into Masamune's hair. "I would not dream of leaving you," he murmured back and the warmth that rose up underneath Masamune's skin was not of the previous carnal nature, but one that heated his very soul.
The blanket, discarded in a careless pile on the floor, lay forgotten; it was unneeded now.
(A/N: I apologize for the lack of proper lube - I usually like to be at least SLIGHTLY more realistic but stopping to grab some would have broken the mood)