A/N: It's been a good two years since I've reappeared in the community, oh how times flies! Here goes nothing, trying out something for a new fandom. To be honest I'm so nervous about this! Please enjoy, though! (: Just like my new venture into writng fanfiction again, this fic is about a set of events on first love, first tries, and the like. (Please forgive spelling errors; I've worked on this only from 12am to 4am so there's really no telling).
Under the blue sky of their youth, Haruka gives away his first kiss.
With the faint rush of ocean in his ear, the iron-dry scent of Makoto's uniform filling his senses, and a large, familiar hand at just the right place on his waist, everything seems to fit right, like the sleek feeling of a new pair of jammers. It is almost like a dream, the way their lips meld into each other with ease. It makes them both shiver, just a little.
It is like they are fourteen again, innocent and blushful, unafraid of consequence.
When they part, Haruka immediately averts his gaze to the crest on the other boy's blazer. Makoto doesn't speak, doesn't apoloize, like he most likely would have, and the silence between them bothers Haruka for an instant. He risks a glance, and their eyes meet; all other sounds drone out, and the world is theirs for that short moment.
Makoto finds it alluring, the way the sunlight dances across Haruka's profile. It is ethereal, how the dust in the air hangs around him like time standing still. He is slightly taken aback by Haru's wide-eyed and vulnerable expression. Subconsciously, he touches Haruka's lower lip with his thumb, and is met with unflinching, open trust. Frailty and warmth are not things Haru expresses in front of others, thus the slight quiver of his breath and the way his gaze mellows just a hint are the precious things Makoto appreciates.
They don't talk about it on the way home, but they hold hands like it is second nature.
~ooo~
Haruka keeps mum about most of his life, his thoughts, what he likes (although he can be rather expressive about what he dislikes). He gets by with Makoto's mindreading for the mostpart, but never tries for attention, never seeks the company of his peers.
Makoto, on the other hand – pouring with compassion and trust and everything Haruka cannot comprehend but accepts wholeheartedly. He thinks of himself last, never has a reason to hate, and wears his heart on his sleeve for all the world to see. More often than not, he would also say the maddest of things.
It's meaningless without you.
And even now, as they sit facing each other in the living room, Makoto brushes his hand from across the table and says, "Can I kiss you again, Haru-chan?"
It throws him off sometimes. A straight-forward and composed Makoto irks him to no end, for some reason.
"Not if you don't drop the '-chan'," he replies, sounding less annoyed than he would have liked.
Makoto smiles sweetly and chuckles, a familiar sound that makes his heart race, just a tad. He leans forward, regardless, and let their lips meet for a second time that day.
There is more experimentation this round. They pull at lower lips gently, nip at corners, nervously clash teeth from time to time. It is Makoto who introduces his tongue first, and Haru nearly pulls back from the shock, if not for the other boy's hand holding the back of his head, rubbing circles into his scalp soothingly, making him feel like the virgin that he is, being pacified in such a manner. Not wanting to be outdone, he meets the other's tongue with his own, elicting an open sigh from Makoto. Their noses bump awkwardly when they try to share a deeper kiss, and Haru plants his hands on Makoto's shoulders to angle himself properly. A pen rolls off the table; their spread of homework forgotten.
In his heart, Makoto silently apologizes to the framed portrait of Haruka's grandma facing them from the altar.
They both part gasping for air. It is not as easy as holding one's breath underwater, Haruka thinks.
"Do I breathe through my nose?" he wonders out loud, causing Makoto to laugh breathlessly.
"We can try again if you want? But first, we should finish up –"
Haruka presses an open-mouthed kiss to Makoto's lips, instantly shutting him up and bringing with it newly awakened desires.
The mackarel Haru cooks that night tastes impossibly sweet.
~ooo~
"Ah."
Maybe it's the way the sunlight glares at him from the side, or how his hands are slippery from the condensation, but Makoto accidentally breaks their shared popsicle unevenly, earning a miffed look from his friend.
They both stare at it for a few seconds.
"D-don't worry, Haru-chan. I'll take the smaller piece, okay?"
"It's alright," Haruka says, taking the lesser half from him before he can protest.
"But, Haru-chan –"
Then, something... strange happens. Makoto can only watch dumbly as his best friend gently clasps the hand that holds the other bigger piece, bringing it closer to his face. His nervous gulp goes unheard when Haru takes part of the popsicle into his mouth (not without a brief show of teeth and tongue before that) and bites it off, eyes closed. He stops the dribble of ice from flowing onto Makoto's fingers with his own mouth, lightly lapping at the base, sucking the moisture there with extra care. He leaves Makoto with a now fairly-shaped popsicle and a problem in his pants.
Not fair, Haru-chan.
They are brought back to earth by the ever observant Nagisa's snickering.
"That look on your face, Mako-chan! Priceless!" he jests, with tears in his eyes, and nudges him square in the gut with his elbow. "Is there something wrong, Mako-chan? Did you think something weird?"
Rei merely pushes his glasses up his nose to shield the flustered blush.
Was he being judged?
He flushes as well, sputtering. "N-nagisa! You got it all wrong, guys!"
"Pervert," came Haruka's soft retort.
"H-haru! Not you too!" Makoto cries. In the background Nagisa just howls with more laughter.
~ooo~
In the serenity of the pool, all he hears is the water sloshing in his ears, and the muffled conversations of his teammates. He idly drifts about, letting the shallow waves wash him to wherever they want. It is not long before he feels something soft bump the top of his head, awaking him. Makoto is there, palm between him and the edge of the pool.
"Don't knock your head, Haru-chan," he says gently, and Haru almost cannot understand the look he is giving him. It is the same – warm and concerned, but wistful and...
He rights himself up. "Thanks," he mutters, and swims away.
~ooo~
It's rush hour, when they finally head back to the station from Rin's school. By the time they settle into the train, they are pressed together against the door on the other side; it's impossible to turn, much less move at all, and while Haruka's expression stays as stoic as ever, the same can't be said for Makoto.
"Are you alright?" Haru asks, noting how pale his friend has gotten.
"Y-yeah, 'm fine." He shifts, tentatively, and he is so sure their crotches are touching.
The train halts and the force drives them both into each other even more. With a hand against the glass, Makoto widens the distance between them a little. "A-am I hurting you, Haru-chan?" He is certain that his increase in body heat has traveled through his uniform to the other, and it's awkward to say the least.
"No..."
Haruka looks off to the side, pensive. Makoto's entire frame competely covers his own, he realizes. He has a lot of catching up to do, it seems. But for now, he's content with how safe he feels when Makoto is around. Large hands are pinned on either side of his head, and Haru cannot help but recall a similar situation, in which he had felt trapped, stunned to the spot and feeling a bit underestimated.
He looks up, and is met with an assuring gaze. It sets him free; if he was afraid before, he definitely isn't now.
Like the way Makoto feels about the four of them swimming together, he too, feels like he can do anything, go anywhere, as long as Makoto is at his side.
Haruka is sure that his expression is unchanged, but Makoto says quietly – so that no one else can hear, "If you keep on looking at me like that, Haru-chan, I won't be able to control myself."
In the shadow of their blazers, a hand is pressed to the larger boy's chest. "Just five more stops," Haru says simply. It holds with it a silent promise of things to come.
~ooo~
Like a trickle that becomes a tide, they let the momentum of the current carry them to where they are now, sitting in Haruka's bed, jackets off, staring at each other in silence. No words come between them, but they know exactly what the other is saying. Their fingers are entwined, playfully caressing, nudging. Haruka breaks his gaze, as he boldly makes the first move. It's nothing much; he shyly kisses Makoto's jaw and lowers his eyes, shifting away to undo his own tie, then the shirt. His movements are slow and unsure and sheepish. It is strange, for someone who has no qualms about stripping in public.
"Makoto," he says, before he starts on the belt buckle. 'Are you okay with this?' he asks with his eyes.
Makoto just leans in, burying his head in the crook of Haru's neck to breathe in his scent fully. It smells a little like chlorine, unsurprisingly.
"For a long time now, I..." he trails off without pulling away. Haruka hears the rest.
He helps take off their clothes, one by one (the way Haruka peels his jammers off his hips and thighs makes Makoto sigh faintly), until they are both fully naked, and it is nothing new to them, yet it feels so very different this time. Haru determinedly sets his gaze anywhere that is not Makoto's face, and traces his hands down the taller boy's firm abs for a start. Both are painfully green to this, so it isn't surprising when they both blush at the warm feeling of being so intimate with another person for the first time. They share other intimacies, sure, but none as arduous and wanton as this.
Haru finds himself lying on his back pliantly, in between locked lips and clumsy touches. As Makoto moves down to experimentally suckle on his collarbone, he tries to calm himself.
It's just Makoto. It's Makoto. It'll be fine.
"Tell me if you don't like it, Haru," Makoto whispers, driving all doubt away like a sweeping wave.
Makoto skips his chest entirely; his tongue travels along the expanse of his stomach, nipping at his waist. It does nothing for Haruka at first, until he feels it dipping into his belly button and he gasps at that. He anticipates other forms of intrusion that lie ahead and cannot help the sound of his heart thundering in his ear like a storm. He doesn't realize his hands are lying uselessly at his sides, gripping the sheets loosely, until Makoto worms his way under his fingers with his own. He looks down, and almost regrets it as the heated expression of the other seems to melt his face right off. He does not intend to show weakness in any way, but with the direction they are going towards, it seems impossible and he worries about revealing that side of him to anyone, even Makoto. He trusts him, that's for sure, but he has no clue to what extent he is willing to open up. Even their familiarity with each other does not prepare him for this.
"Are you scared, Haru-chan?" Makoto knows. His hair is being brushed away from his face, leaving him feeling more exposed than he already is. "I'm scared too," he adds nervously then.
Haru's breathing is heavy, full of want. But what does he want?
"I-I," he stutters, and it catches him by surprise. "I'm alright," he lies, even though he knows Makoto can see right through him. At such a close distance it is hard to hide anything, especially from his best friend.
"Do whatever you like," he tries again, as nonchalant as he can muster. He sucks in a deep breath. "If it's Makoto, I'm okay with whatever."
He can almost hear the restraint snap.
Wordlessly, Makoto dips his head down for another round of heated kisses, to which Haru responds with arched back and clinging arms. All is well at this point, until Makoto unabashedly takes his erection in his hand, and Haru jumps at the touch. No one has ever fondled him the way he's being fondled now – no one has ever nipped at his neck like this before – no one has ever seen him unravel like this before – and the very thought is so intimate, so very embarrassing, that he drapes an arm over his face to hide whatever he might be showing on the surface.
It is difficult, when Makoto tries to oppose him so.
His arm is raised, and he finds the skin wet from the tears he's been desperately failing to keep in. He sniffles, and Makoto stops what he's doing entirely to focus solely on his best friend's discomfort. The concerned look in his eyes makes Haru whine in guilt.
"I-I'm so sorry, Haru!" Makoto looks on the verge of tears himself. "D-did it not feel good? Was I too rough? Should I try something else? Should we stop?"
Haru decides to clear the confusion the best way he can. He grasps the side of Makoto's face tenderly. "I'm good," he says. "It feels good... I think," he adds, because really, he has no idea what this overwhelming feeling is.
Makoto is torn between wanting to embrace him and ravishing him wholly.
Haru gets over the initial fear and guides the other's hand back. He spreads his legs further, feeling a little bold suddenly. One glance into Makoto's emerald eyes and he knows it will be alright. "Touch me again," he commands, and Makoto feels his own dick throb in want.
Haru screws his eyes shut tightly and tries his best not to cry as his lover squeezes and pumps his erection in just the right way only he knows how. Then again, it is only because it's Makoto that makes it feel right, he thinks vaguely. Even to his ears, the sound of his harsh panting seems unrestrained and lewd. His arms desperately cling onto the other boy's broader shoulders and his moans get louder still, as the pace increases. He is a writhing, sobbing wreck beneath the larger boy and at this point, he no longer cares about appearances.
Then, all it takes is a whispered, "Haruka", deep and throaty and so damn passionate, in his ear, which makes him come undone with a cry he cannot recognize as his own. His legs kick and squirm against the sheets as he rides out his orgasm. He wets them both and leaves a sticky trail of cum down his own stomach, which he finds oddly fascinating, and kind of gross.
Just as he catches his breath, Makoto loses his.
Haruka's cheeks blaze a red nearly as deep as his shame. His eyes are watery, his lips are trembling ever so slightly, and it is such a sight to behold his best friend in this unguarded, defenseless state that it takes a while for him to remember how to breathe again.
"You're beautiful, Haru," he says without thinking.
"Shut... up..." Haru replies with effort, but there is no sting to it.
"But you are," Makoto continues softly. "Even when not swimming, you're beautiful, Haru-chan."
Haru doesn't bother to correct him, because something fierce and warm spreads throughout his chest then, and he let the water works set in. "T-to me, Makoto is..." He cannot control himself any longer. The string of words that leave his mouth are jumbled and incoherent and mixed with harsh sobs. The harder he tries to suck it in, the louder he wails, and it doesn't matter anymore – not when Makoto has seen all sides of him. There is nothing to hide.
He lets Makoto hold him until he is done, then makes him swear never to mention it ever again.
The look on Makoto's face makes Haru want to kick him off the bed.
"Makoto," he says, lifting himself up. "Let me finish you too."
A new resolve glints within his eyes, and Makoto knows it's pointless to steer Haru away from whatever he sets his mind on doing.
In all honesty, Makoto was planning on taking care of his problem alone in the bath, positively against the idea of making Haru go through such a thing for his sake. But Haru's determined look to please roots him in place. He leans against the headboard as guided to and gulps audibly when Haru shifts to straddle his legs.
"What are you planning there, Haru?" he cannot help but ask, albiet weakly.
The raven-haired boy licks his lips wet and hesitates a notch. He then bends down and shows him exactly what.
"W-w-wait, H-h-haru!" Makoto yelps, as soon as his brain is up and running again. "Y-you don't have to! I-I can't let you do such a t-thing, Haru!"
"Why not?" Haru asks plainly. He's curious to see the face Makoto makes as he loses himself.
"I-It's dirty! You can't put that in your mouth!"
"You don't want it?"
Makoto pauses. Of course he wants it. He's practically dying to see how Haru would look like, eyes closed, deep in concentration, as he pleases him with his mouth. He blames this entirely on the dirty magazines Nagisa lent him the week before. "M-maybe not today," he stammers instead. He fears he might come too early and break the mood. "Aren't you tired, Haru-chan? Let's stop for now, okay?"
Haru reads him like a book. "Won't you drop the '-chan' already?" he says, miffed.
Before Makoto can counter, Haru lowers his mouth to gingerly suck on the tip of his throbbing dick, elicting a surprised yelp and a drawn-out moan. Oh, this is so much sexier than the popsicle incident. And significantly better than his late night imaginations. Haru quickly takes in more of the erection intuitively; it is harder than it looks – with his fingers pressing his cheek, he guides it straight down his throat. In the end, the sheer size of Makoto is enough to make him choke and sputter, as expected, and he lifts himself up, leaving a trail of precum between the tip and his lower lip.
Makoto's fists cling to the sheets so tightly his knuckles are white from the effort. Haruka has never seen his friend look like this before. It makes him a little excited, a little scared.
"That's what you get for trying something you're not used to, Haru-chan," he chastises playfully, but the dark look in his eyes belies his true desires.
"Let me try again," Haru says, and this time Makoto does not stop him.
He sits back and studies what he has to work with. The girth is wide, and he has no clue how to go about putting the whole thing in his mouth without gagging. He starts with the balls, resolutely taking in what he can into his mouth. He decides to work his way around it slowly, lapping at the base, pressing his thumb against a vein, kissing the tip. Somewhere between, his teeth accidentally scrape a bit of skin, and he withdraws.
"Sorry," he says, anxious.
"It's okay, Haru," Makoto cringes a little, but encourages him nonetheless. "Go on."
Haru licks the entire shaft all over, before attempting to devour it whole. He fails, but resorts to using his hands for whatever he can't swallow. He experimentally bobs his head up and down, pumping at the base at the same time. He doesn't know if he's doing it right, but the other's ragged breathing is enough to keep him going.
The steady rise and fall of Makoto's chest belies a dangerous need to pound his length deep down that willing throat. Haru's mouth is small, dainty almost, and he berates himself for having such selfish thoughts, when his lover is doing his best to satisfy. Haru – who thinks it too much effort to initiate anything, Haru – who only has adoration for the water – that very same Haru is kneeling between his legs right now, worshipping him with his mouth. He hums, sending Makoto to the edge. He runs his fingers through those soft locks shakily, and wonders when exactly had he fallen for this tenacious spirit.
Haru looks up at the touch, as though seeking approval, and Makoto distracts himself with random thoughts so as not to come too quickly. It takes more self-control than he has, at this point.
"H-haru, I'm –!"
Before he can string his words together, he comes without warning, making Haruka gasp and gag with cum in his mouth. It gets on the side of his face too, all of it bringing about a most peeved look. Makoto secretly burns the erotic image into his mind for a few seconds, before snapping back to his usual self.
"O-oh my god, Haru, I'm s-s-so sorry! Please forgive me!" He flushes a bright tomato red, and fumbles about to grab some tissue.
To his utter surprise, Haru swallows what he has in his mouth, but not without a hint of distaste.
"Doesn't taste like mackerel at all." Damn that Nagisa.
"What are you saying! H-Haru! What did you do that for, seriously?"
He wipes the fluids off his partner's face carefully. "I'm really sorry, Haru. I'll be careful next time."
"Did you enjoy it, Makoto?"
"Eh?"
"Was it any good?"
Makoto's gaze softens at the way Haru's lashes flutter down demurely. He kisses him on the temple lovingly. "Yeah. Of course it was. Because it's you, Haru-chan."
Haru responds naught with his usual retort, but with a kiss to the nose. It makes Makoto's heart burst. He promptly blushes and procedes to hug him for the rest of the evening. 'I swear, I'll take care of you for the rest of my life!' is what he mumbles, while nuzzling into jet-black hair.
Later on in the bathtub, Makoto leans back, admiring the way Haru's body stretches languidly in the water, relaxing completely. It's a bit of a squeeze, but also an excuse to exchange knee bumps and brush body parts.
"What are we now, Haru-chan?" Makoto ponders aloud. Boyfriends?
"Does it matter?" comes the nonchalant reply.
"Ah. Well, I suppose it doesn't."
Haru moves to sit side by side and rests his head on Makoto's shoulder. They watch the ripples glide across the water surface in companionable silence. Haru brings their laced hands above the surface to watch the droplets fall in untimely rythm from their fingers; from the very hand that gave him such gratification just a moment ago.
"Three years."
"Hm?"
"Three years until I'm ordinary."
"You mean, until we become adults?" Makoto tilts his head in curiosity.
"I can't wait to be an adult," Haru muses, sinking further into the water.
Makoto laughs good-naturedly. "I'd spend an ordinary life with you anytime, Haru-chan." He says it with such genuinity that Haru turns his face away, unable to help it.
"We're getting wrinky," he changes the subject. He twists around to grab a moisturizing bath additive from the shelf. The action causes him to lean over the tub, giving the other a rather ample view.
Makoto raises a palm to check, and likes how it can fully cup a butt cheek in one hand without effort. He allows himself a little mischief and gives Haru's bum a firm slap. It earns him a fistful of water to the face.
~ooo~
"It's cold."
Haru dips his feet into the shallow surface of water on the shore. Makoto comes to sit with him, after rolling up the hem of his pants. He nuzzles Haruka's cheek in an open display of affection that drives the raven-haired boy up the wall.
"It'll get warm soon," Makoto says. "And then you'll get to swim as much as you want."
I'll get to see you at your most beautiful.
With a large hand he tilts Haru's head towards his with familiar ease. Makoto takes a good look at Haru for the first time that day, and thinks, Is this all mine? Those lovely, impossibly blue eyes glisten under the morning sun, like the tides of an ocean where there is no sense of fear. The world narrows down to just the two of them, he and his sweet Haru, what with his strange charm and all. Haru views Makoto with that same trust as before, coyly looking up at him from beneath his long lashes. His lover's thumb grazes over his lower lip and Haru playfully tries to kiss it.
"We'll swim together," he says with resolve, and Makoto cannot help his breath catching in his throat. "We'll get to swim together again."
Makoto smiles a smile that only Haru knows the true meaning of. He presses his thumb between Haru's supple lips and they yield to his touch compliantly.
"That goes without saying, Haru-chan."
They kiss and hold hands until the tide returns, and start another ordinary day together.
-end-
Note: Yeah, I'll write something better later, maybe. Review if you liked it...? (: I might try something darker next time! I actually do have something with a large plot planned, but haven't gotten round to it due to lack of inspiration. Ah, perhaps I should find some prompts to work on instead... Thanks for reading, though! 8D Tell me what you thought about my first ever Free! fic and I'll promise cookies..? :3