"You can't be serious."

Manato remains a stationary barrier between the commander and Haruhiro, so Haruhiro follows his lead and doesn't follow Brittany into the bedroom.

Brittany dismissively waves a hand in Haruhiro's general direction. "I am most certainly serious. In lieu of having my night ruined by a peeping tom, why not incorporate him into the night's festivities? Oh, don't make that face at me, kitten. Why don't you ask your little Thief what he thinks? He's the one who followed you here, after all."

Manato hesitates, but eventually he turns to Haruhiro. Broad shoulders shield him from Brittany's piercing stare and illuminating moonlight. In the shadow of the older boy, Haruhiro feels safe.

"Haru," says Manato. Haruhiro shivers at the scratchiness in his leader's voice. "Haru, I never wanted you to see me like this."

Haruhiro blushes in shame; he had no right to pry into his leader's personal business and this situation is entirely his fault. He can't bring himself to meet Manato's eyes, so instead he stares at the clear line between Manato's pectorals. Sensing those pert nipples pressing into his shoulder blades is one thing, but actually seeing them, seeing the effect of a teasing forefinger and thumb on them… Haruhiro shoves his hands under his butt to keep them from touching things not meant to be touched (…yet).

Manato abruptly wraps him in a hug. Oh. Right. Manato is still talking to him. He's adapted to interacting with Manato speaking from directly behind him, sitting in the tub together. Speaking face-to-face is slightly overwhelming. Speaking with a full view of Manato's body—

"—won't make you do anything you don't want to do," says Manato protectively. "I can take anything Brittany has in mind for me, don't you worry, but I won't let him do the same to you."

He could stay within Manato's arms like this forever, but the anxious quality of his leader's tone triggers a worry response in Haruhiro as well. He gently pushes Manato out to arm's length. "What does Brittany do to you?"

Manato smiles wearily. "Nothing I haven't already done before." He catches the confusion in Haruhiro's glance and elaborates, "In the life before this. My mind draws a blank, but my body knows the drill. Muscle memory."

Haruhiro hears this, but he was lost the moment Manato demonstrated my body by sliding his hands down his torso. He recalls Manato atop those silken sheets, his hands drifting down his chest and abdominals. He imagines Brittany seated between Manato's spread legs, imagines Brittany licking his lips as he slides his hands up Manato's pale thighs—his imagination abruptly ends there because he doesn't want to think about what happens next.

"I don't want Brittany," he blurts, "to do things to you."

The body before him stiffens. His head is heavy and he can't look into his leader's face, so he continues to address the base of Manato's neck.

"You said before that you didn't think people treated you as a friend." He gulps. "Is this what you meant, Manato? Do you think others only saw you like this?"

Manato swallows. Just the bobbing of his Adam's apple makes Haruhiro's breath speed up and he has to force his eyes upward (because going downward is out of the question). Not quite to the eyes, because he can't bear to read Manato's expression yet. Just on his cheekbones. That's fine. His leader hasn't said anything yet. Manato knows he isn't finished speaking. Manato is that kind of person, so naturally empathetic that he can instantly read a situation and adapt. Loud Kikkawa, timid Shihoru, abrasive Ranta.

Sensual Brittany…

Haruhiro's mouth goes dry. Oh.

His leader's lips part; Haruhiro goes to head him off, "Let me! Let me… finish. I… Manato, I… I've only thought of you as a friend. The best friend anyone could have. Even someone like me." Wow, why does saying the truth like this have to be so embarrassing? He swallows again, willing some saliva to lubricate his sandpaper-dry throat. "You're my leader, Manato. You're our team healer and you take care of all of us even when we're not hunting goblins. I trust you with my life and I would do anything for you."

There. He said it. His face is so hot, his skin could start peeling any second now. He stares at Manato's cheekbones… which are turning red?

"Haru…"

Haruhiro's breath catches at Manato's rough tone. There's still some residual reluctance in his voice though. If this drags on any longer, Haruhiro's going to start overthinking this all over again. In desperation, he forces himself to make eye contact—to tell the absolute truth.

"You do so much for us. Please, Manato, let me be the one to care for you for once. I want to be the one providing for you. Please let me… let me love you." Something shifts in Manato's eyes and Haruhiro realizes what just came out of his mouth. He blushes and bows forward shamefully, eyes glued to the floor. "I mean! What I meant to say is! Please accept my help!"

Almost immediately, Manato pulls him up and into a crushing hug. Haruhiro's legs are not nearly ready enough to stand at this point (one's actually fallen asleep) and he practically pitches straight forward; Manato doesn't budge, easily carrying Haruhiro's dead weight until he can stand again. There's probably something symbolic in that, but pondering the meaning of life and what he's about to do becomes the last thing on his mind the moment his leader draws him from the darkened hallway straight into the stark white light of the moon.

He freezes the moment Brittany's pink eyes pierce the back of his head. For Manato he would do anything, he has to remind himself… but when someone's watching, even the tiniest of things becomes shamefully humiliating. He has to resist the urge to hide in Manato's shadow again as he's drawn down onto his knees.

"You said you wanted to take care of me," whispers Manato. Rose colors his cheeks as he presses his forehead into Haruhiro's. "Is that why you followed me here?"

Throat dry with nerves, Haruhiro can only nod. Slowly though—Manato's still so close that his eyelashes flutter against Haruhiro's when he blinks. For the first time, Haruhiro notices golden flecks in Manato's honey-brown irises. It would be awkward—it should be awkward with Brittany just a few feet away—but the alignment of their bodies, from their hips to their hands to their foreheads, is so intimate that Haruhiro can't really think about anything else but the heat of Manato against him.

"I don't know why your words make me feel the way I'm feeling, Haru." Manato chuckles and rolls his head upward, pausing when their noses touch. "Haru… I want you to love me."

What follows is only natural: Haruhiro tilts his head up just one more degree and presses their mouths together. Doubt clouds his mind instantly when Manato inhales sharply—and is instantly vaporized when the older boy surges forward, lips molding around Haruhiro's hungrily. Just before he topples over backwards, however, strong arms wrap around his torso and cradle the back of his head to draw him closer. He braces his hands against Manato's bare hipbones; his fingers cautiously explore the exposed skin, trailing into the dip of the lower back and the bump of the tailbone, but abandon the action when Manato's leg abruptly finds its way between his thighs.

His secondhand underwear becomes really constricting in two seconds flat.

He feels more than sees Manato's smile against his mouth at the sensation of Haruhiro abruptly jutting into his leg. He definitely feels it when his leader mercilessly applies more pressure. His reedy whine never makes it to open air; Manato simply swallows the needy sound, soft lips engaging Haruhiro's with such fervor that Haruhiro will have to lean back soon and gasp for air, otherwise he'll spout a nosebleed if he keeps breathing so heavily through his nostrils like this…

Manato laughs.

Haruhiro breaks away indignantly (and sneaks in a lungful of oxygen). "Hey—"

He chokes on his cry when Manato presses a shoulder into Haruhiro's chest and actually tips him over backward. His brain doesn't have time to register the loss of balance, however, before a hand supports his upper back and gently lowers him to the futon. When all is done, a fully-clothed Haruhiro finds himself positioned underneath the unclothed body of his team leader.

Something's not right about this situation… He hesitantly tugs at the hem of his shirt but ceases the moment Manato drapes his body directly atop Haruhiro's. This isn't like Master Barbara's exercises at all—his sadistic teacher had focused the whole of her voluptuous body onto small surface areas across his chest and abdomen, forcing him to flex the muscles there to prevent his organs from being crushed. In this situation, Manato's weight is spread evenly across Haruhiro's torso. There is literally nothing between them—aside from his skintight gear. And his unbearably tight underwear.

"—beautiful."

"Eh?" Haruhiro gasps. His mind is focused on every single point of contact between him and Manato, which literally means his attention is spread pretty thin. Most of it is concentrated on relieving the pressure below his belt, which is nearly impossible when Manato's sitting directly on top of it. He has to be doing this on purpose. He's smiling beatifically and his eyes are bright, all normal expressions for his amazing leader; but, inches away from Manato's expression, Haruhiro wonders if he's imagining the slight smirk in the corner of Manato's lip and the simmering shadow behind his eyes. "What did you say?" he chokes in a lame attempt to regain some dignity.

Manato throws his head back, starting a sensual roll that shimmies its way down his torso and concludes in a hip thrust directly against the tension of Haruhiro's groin. Haruhiro's entire body practically seizes up in response; his spine arches off the silky blankets and his lungs forcefully expel their contents in a ragged moan.

"You're gorgeous, Haru," whispers Manato. He undulates his body against Haruhiro again, emphasizing each word with a rolling hip thrust.

"Manato," grunts Haruhiro. He can't help his body from shivering and convulsing every time his leader's member pounds against his tight pants. "Y-You're… mean."

Vibrations of rumbling laughter travel their way down the older boy's arm as he sneaks a hand under Haruhiro's shirt, pushing it up until it bunches up around his pectorals. Haruhiro willingly raises his arms but Manato does not proceed onward; instead, he pushes himself up until he's seated between Haruhiro's spread legs. Haruhiro's efforts to remove his shirt himself are stalled when Manato firmly grabs both hands and holds them down above his head. Even when his leader releases him, he keeps his arms cross at the wrist there as if bound by an invisible rope. A low whine to trickles out of his mouth at the restrictive position. "Manatooo…"

Gently, as if sewing delicate cloth together, Manato tugs at the leather string holding Haruhiro's pants around his waist. He hisses and raises his hips, eager to remove the restraining cloth; Manato complies, albeit rather slowly… and Haruhiro groans when Manato leaves his underwear on. The loose cotton is far less binding and permits Haruhiro to literally pitch a tent—in the silver glimmer of the moon, it's obvious his undergarments are secondhand by its dirty, off-white color. He flushes and draws his legs together as much as he can with Manato still sitting there.

"Don't be shy," his leader murmurs. He leans over Haruhiro again and brings their lips together briefly; then he begins to move downwards, suckling and kissing and tenderly biting the vulnerable flesh of Haruhiro's neck, chest, and stomach.

The urge to snap his legs together when Manato digs his nose into Haruhiro's covered length is barely overcome by the fact that he might actually hurt his leader that way. He wriggles with embarrassment when Manato inhales deeply; he hadn't bothered bathing before heading out to the tavern today, so likely the cloth is drenched in a full day's grit and sweat—

His legs spasm when Manato mouths his cock through his underwear. He doesn't actually box Manato around the ears with his inner thighs, but he comes pretty close. A strangled yelp escapes his throat when Manato does it again, lips wetting cotton to dampen the heated skin beneath. He's lost his breath long ago, but with his hands tied, all he can do is stare down at his leader and gasp, open-mouthed, for air.

Manato's eyes flick back up to Haruhiro. He maintains eye contact as he returns to pressing his nose the base of Haruhiro's clothed cock, then drags his tongue from base to tip excruciatingly slowly. He swirls his tongue around the tip before returning it to its place behind pink lips. "You're so gorgeous like this," Manato murmurs straight into Haruhiro's last remaining garment. His fingertips graze along the waistband. "So beautiful."

Haruhiro can only whimper as Manato teases him. For a moment, he contemplates capturing Manato's arm between his legs, closing up and squeezing hard until Manato, he doesn't know, tickles him into releasing—but Manato's hands have descended to his backside and are finally easing the constricting cloth off his hips. Haruhiro barely has a chance to view his own length, darkened with a needy crimson flush, before the more experienced teenager promptly swallows it whole. He chokes when the tip of his cock presses into the spongy tissue in the back of Manato's throat and yelps at the warm wetness exposed to cool air when Manato withdraws. His eyes search for something to slaughter his overwhelming libido, yet instead catch the sight of stray strands of silky hair freeing themselves from Manato's sweaty forehead as he bobs up and down with vigor. Some sort of dark shameless is gradually taking precedence over the light in Manato's eyes.

He arcs his back and lifts his head and moans as Manato leaves sloppy kisses all over his groin. He cries out—swallows his cry—whines through closed lips. He squeezes his eyes shut because the sight of his leader gagging on him whole, combined with the undulation of his springy throat muscles, is almost too much to bear. If his leader keeps this up—

Manato surfaces with an obscenely wet slurp. Trails of saliva mixed with precum dribble down his balls and onto Manato's hand. Haruhiro bites back a strangled gasp when sticky fingers tug and tease at his sac. "You're so quiet," Manato grins, giving him another playful jerk. "Tell me what you're feeling, Haru."

He's horribly ashamed at the first word that comes out of his mouth. "So c-close…"

His leader appropriately bursts into laughter. He then inappropriately proceeds to wrap his lips around a testicle, suckling and suctioning and drawing it away from the rest of Haruhiro's body. He releases it just as the sensation borders on pain. Haruhiro yelps in surprise as the part snaps back with a moist slap and yelps again when the tip of Manato's tongue thrusts and spreads itself out on his taint. From there, the older boy lasciviously licks his way back up until he literally smacks himself in the face with the underside Haruhiro's length; he proceeds to nudge it around with his nose until it rebounds and slaps him in the cheek. In the pale luminescence of midnight, Manato's milky white face contrasts starkly with Haruhiro's bouncing, blood-flushed member; the sight of his leader inflicting phallus-shaped imprints on his own glowing features would be comical if Haruhiro isn't currently incredibly horny.

"Ahh!" He slings his arms over his eyes and cringes. Never mind the arousing scene being burned into his memory forever… watching it live for another two seconds would send him past the point of no return. He's toeing the line even now, even with his eyes squeezed shut, because he can just picture what Manato would look like with strings of white draped over his face nonono not now not yet.

Not yet.

How long has it been since he vowed to help his leader? Haruhiro had followed Manato all the way to the edge of Altana because out of everybody in their team, only he had realized their leader sacrificed a lot for the sake of the group—healing on the battlefield, gathering information at Shelly's to the point of whoring himself. Haruhiro had followed because he wanted to give back anything and everything to his stupidly sacrificial friend. But despite all that, despite having sworn to return that love not five or ten minutes ago, they're back at square one: Manato is servicing him. Haruhiro is the only one receiving pleasure currently; it's obvious that Manato is nowhere near as stimulated as he is.

"Haru?"

Master Barbara would not approve of his current reaction time. He's not even aware that Manato has moved until he unwraps his arms from his face and finds his leader literally in front of him: pupils blown wide with lust, lips bright and puffy and swollen, and breath tinged with salt and sweat washing over his cheekbones. There'd been a tinge of uncertainty in the earlier inquiry; Haruhiro forces himself to meet his leader's gaze.

Give back.

He doesn't know what to say. How does one squeeze down an entire mind's sentiment into a few bite-sized words? Let me care for you. Let me provide for you. Let me—

Hesitantly, he curls fingers around the back of Manato's neck. His leader shifts in surprise but acquiesces easily, easing downward until their lips connect gently once, twice. He tastes like salt and unidentified fluids and tenderness, as strange a combination that is. On the third contact, Haruhiro braces his other hand against the silky blankets and pushes. Manato grunts in disbelief but immediately submits, rolling over until he's the one splayed on his back with Haruhiro over him.

Manato gazes at him through half-lidded eyes. "Haruhiro…"

Removing the rest of his wrinkled shirt, Haruhiro lowers his hips until his cock, still slathered in lubricating spittle, meets the junction of Manato's legs. A thrill races through his body when Manato hisses "Yes" and digs his fingers into Haruhiro's back needily. He imitates his leader's earlier actions by pressing his lips to the flesh at the base of Manato's ear. There's barely-bridled energy thrumming underneath his fingertips; Manato barely seems to be keeping himself together. This. This response to even the simplest of touches confirms Haruhiro's plan of action, uncertain and unexperienced as he is. He's going to do this.

He bites down gently on Manato's earlobe and relishes the responding "Fuck" (whatever that word means) before injecting as much love and compassion as he can into his whisper.

"Let me be the one to love you."


A/N: fuuuuck yessss moaaaar sexxxx whyyy notttt

shy dom!Haru

knowledgeable sub!Manato

Because transforming the extra epilogue I had planned into its own chapter works really well. Originally this was going to be the last smut chapter (with dominant bottom Manato) and the plot-only epilogue would tie the rest of the story in with canon; but this is the most smut I've written in a long while and it's been a month since the last update, so the SexyChapter of SEX was split in two.

Will there still be an epilogue?

Yes.

Will there be more HaruhiroxManato love than you could ask for?

Fuck yes.

Stay tuned.

(Now cross-posted onto Archive Of Our Own!)