Neither of them understands why they do this, why they always end up in one of their homes, why this press of bare skin on skin is so addictive; there are a million questions and no answers to why they allow themselves to be swept up by this guilty pleasure, each calling out a name that does not belong to the other.
It always starts with fierce bruising kisses that sometimes draw blood and a trail of clothes from the door to the bed. Reisi imagines a muscular redhead of his own height and ignores the fact that the slender man leaving marks on his neck is slightly shorter than him, ignores that he can sometimes feel the press of the other's spectacle frame against his skin, ignores that the fingertips brushing against his bare skin are smooth and not the rough calloused press that he craves so badly. He keeps his eyes closed throughout so as to preserve his fantasies.
They keep the lights off as desperation mounts and hushed sighs and quiet moans turn into cries of lust. Reisi cries out a name that does not belong to the man whose hips are meeting his and is met with a mantra of a name that does not belong to him, but it seeps into his skin anyway. Through choked sobs and muffled groans, they find what they seek and the bedsprings creak as they settle down for the night; together but apart.
One night, as light from the full moon spills through the window, neither of them utters a word, primal sounds being all they need to communicate. Tonight, for the first time, Reisi opens his eyes to meet the azure ones above his. Sleep snatches Reisi almost immediately after; his companion gazes out the window, hunched over with his arms around his knees.
Reisi wakes after some time to see him now gazing at a point on the floor, side profile silhouetted by the cold light of the moon. He'd never taken the opportunity to appreciate his defined features before now. He reaches out to touch the bare back presented to him.
He is met with a shaky voice. "Captain… I don't think we should do this anymore."
"Why?" Reisi wants to know.
This time, a choking sound is his reply and Reisi realises that the other is holding back tears.
"I can't… can't do this." The floodgates open and tears spill onto his cheeks.
"Fushimi." Reisi sits up and pulls his Clansman into a comforting embrace, letting the younger crumple against him. He gently strokes Fushimi's head as tears fall onto his shoulder and some roll down his back.
"It…it's not him I want anymore," Fushimi's sobs give way to softer hiccups. "It's…I-I want…" He doesn't complete his sentence before another wave of tears overcomes him.
A wash of clarity falls over Reisi as he understands Fushimi's unspoken words. How long has it been since he last envisioned those amber eyes and strong hands taking him during one of their midnight trysts? How long has it been since his importance waned? How long has it been since he cried out that name?
Too long. If he wasn't certain before, he is certain now. Reisi no longer wants him. He wants what he's come to treasure. He wants certainty, and he has it in his grasp.
"Fushimi," he whispers into his ear. "What you want…I want it too."
Fushimi's sobs once again subside into hiccups as he raises his head from Reisi's shoulder. His eyes are clear, unobstructed by his spectacles, and Reisi can clearly see the emotions normally hidden coursing through their depths.
He reaches out to cup Fushimi's cheek and tilt his head up. They share a kiss; the first of many filled with love for each other.
A/N: Um. This is the first time I've written something like this. I don't know what came over me last night.
This was proofread by TILAgal who wanted me to name this fic Sex in the City.