Piss, sweat, alcohol, vomit, dust, leather, old jizz, fresh jizz, vinyl, latex, metal, fags, boot soles, expired condoms, and any other disagreeable shitter odour that'd get one's mates to go "Aah! That is rank!" wafted through the venue when Yamato entered the neon-illuminated foyer. Everything combined was the best damn smell in the world should you be in the right place. Evoking a deep streak of nostalgia that one does. Yamato was willing to be quoted on it. If by the end of the show, you don't smell like an overused toilet or like a beer that got repurposed as an ashtray, the gig was shite.
He settled Cheri Bomb on her stand and jumped off the stage, heading to the back exist to give Ren a hand with the drum kit.
It connected the live venue to a shoddy back alley that was exactly like any other piss-poor corner in this poisonous metropolis. Exposed utility pipes were flaking, oxidised orange with rust. Random spots reeked of piss. The kings and queens of the streets were all here, in their miniature clothing, selling flesh and the parody of love, trying to look like they weren't trying at all.
Some people were born lucky. Some people were lucky to be born. These sperm burping princes and queefing princesses belonged to neither group.
A few metres behind the band's van, Yamato already spotted all the kerb-crawlers queuing in the alley in all their rotten glory. One "gent" wearing one 'dem fancy Burberry trench coats, shoved his stinking paw right down the trousers of the youngest male prostitute he found to cup a feel of his junk. The effigy of the derision of those who live on the upper side. That boy couldn't have been older than Takeru and already his face looked like his life choices – a train wreck. His solicitor didn't give a fuck about sanitation either, so the whore was bent over the rubbish bin and hop – in went the old, wrinkly dick.
Was that boy new? Yamato hadn't seen him around.
No one gave them much of a second glance and Yamato reckoned he shouldn't either. He can feign empathy all he wants, but what good would that do to anyone? Everyone just wants to jump into the fray and lose themselves in the chaos of the self-indulgent lotus-eater.
The van's back door almost hit his stupid face when Dasha kicked it open, carrying two amplifiers and her Les Paul.
"Oi! Watch it, you bellend!" He barked after her. Not that it helped anyone or would ever come in handy for future use.
He swung his head before any other blunt object hit it, and a familiar face surfaced from the crowd of rent-boys; this wasn't the first time KoD performed here.
Yamato shoved his head into the van, where Ren was coiling the cables around his forearm. "You need me now, mate?"
"Five minutes or so."
"I'm out for a smoke, yeah?"
Ren raised his thumb and Yamato turned around, taking out a joint and his lighter before walking over to Luca.
With his back against the bare wall of cement blocks, the call-boy was well within his work uniform: jeans as tight as an arterial tourniquet with strategic holes around his crotch and a cropped muscle top which advertised to his clients some pretty decent abs. He was doable, Yamato would give him that. Looks like he highlighted his hair blonde as well since the last time Yamato saw him.
"Care for a toke?"
"Cheers, bruvva. You're a saint, that's what you are."
Yamato put the stick between Luca's lips and lit it up for him. After a few puffs settled in his lungs, Luca passed it back to Yamato and listened to him sucking it. They rolled it from one to the other like this without talking too much – just the way Yamato liked it. Since he was already here, though, he may as well use the opportunity, he figured.
"Know any private spot 'round here for good knob-gobbling?"
Luca gave Yamato the once over and flicked his thumb against the joint. "I'll suck your dick any time, right here, Ishida."
"Much appreciated, but I meant it literally. I got plans."
"What plans?"
"My plans are my plans."
One last drag and Luca threw the burnt crutch to the pavement and stomped out the remains. "You come out 'round ten minutes after your number and I reckon we'll be pretty busy. Should be empty here, you get me?"
"Cheers, mate. Hope no fat, greasy prick with two mites and a wife creeps up your arse today." Yamato picked up the bud and threw it to the bin. To Luca's friendly "sod off!", Yamato flipped him off and got back just in time to help Ren with the pedals.
So how did Yamato come to be on a first-name basis with a hooker? Simply put, he did over some fugly punter who didn't understand Luca had the right to refuse service.
Truth is, if you know one, you know them all. They all had the same stories. Boys who were not as lucky as Yamato were thrown out of their houses and made a living by selling a gay boy's most valuable asset: their backsides.
Most of them lived in groups over the clubs that lined the pavements here and came down to the street to sell. Or buy drugs.
On his last round to the van, Yamato got it. He got why he was guaranteed privacy after his concert. The prostitutes here started a trend which was picking up momentum: they dyed their hairs blonde, put in blue contacts, dressed tight, and stood near Knife of Day posters. Yamato reckoned he should go back inside; before the clients confused him with a renter and tried shoving money down his boxers so he'd let them screw him.
That was certainly an interesting way to be complimented.
"…the window is bursting with sunrise.
I stand at the edge of the door.
I thought I caught the scent of freedom
And now I am drunk on the floor."
Rock n' roll nights, drunken flights, friends' fights and neon lights. What a ledge!
Under the credence of the of waves which carried music through bolstered distortion, pounding drums, screaming guitars, shrieking keyboards, and his very own loyal Cheri Bomb, Yamato was God. His lyrics were the sermon, his notes were the creed, the stage was his alter, and the teeming of the audience was his chant.
Taichi's cuts from last night had begun healing and constricted his skin, so Yamato scraped off the bunching gore and reopened the slashes. For the last two hours, all the salt from the sweat soaking his tank top rubbed off on them and fuck, was that a mad adrenalin rush!
For Taichi in the front row, Yamato was sex on a plate and everything he wore screamed "Fuck me!"
Earlier that night, Yamato had a biker jacket on. It got tossed away mighty fast, leaving him in a cut-up wife-beater he used to wipe his sweat with and skin-tight, ripped jeans which left an indecent hole under the right cheek of his bum. It flashed the audience with an overly benevolent patch of pink that sported all the purple blotches Taichi left on him. Yamato's ragged, sweaty fringe flew over his eyes. His skin shimmered with sweat whereas his eyes shimmered with iron conviction. His voice was the hymn of a siren, compelling his audience to crush at his feet.
That explained the mosh-pit going on in the middle of the venue and the one crowd-surfer the security-people were failing to fish out.
Yamato was born to do this. He was a blistering cyclone, bathing in the stage lights. It was like staring into the sun. Taichi could go blind.
The band played loud and the band played true. Played for the world to hear. A reason for Yamato's heart to go on beating.
From the side of his eye, Taichi caught a glimpse of Jun Motomya with her boyfriend. No longer a fan with a super-sonic shriek, but a mature woman who came over to enjoy herself with some good time and better music. 'Nope, not boyfriend,' Taichi's memories jogged up when the gold band on her fourth finger popped into his view.
"Do you want more?!" Yamato yelled from above his throne of luminosity.
The crowd was a universe of "YES!", raucous robbing them of reason.
"Next one is: Fresh Eyes." Yamato growled the titular phrase, milking the inhabitants for their vocal cords.
"I have a dirty mouth – I do amazing things with it.
I have a dirty mind – it's getting more so when I'm getting lit.
I have a dirty life –I'm being thrashed from street to street.
I have so many eyes – new ones blossom every day.
I rub off the world and can feel myself coming.
I take my pleasure from living and pride in my death
I'll open your sockets for your dirty breath.
Fresh eyes!..."
Taichi banged his head to the furious beat which rocked him down to his pellicles while wiping sweat off with the same hand the venue stamped him on.
Somewhere along the line, the "swarm" – as Yamato referred to his army of listeners – squashed Takeru into his underarm.
Shoving two refrigerator-shaped men out of his way, Taichi pulled Takeru to the front of the stage till the teen could lean his elbows between two speakers, saving him from being mauled to death.
"I am the sun – look how pretty I'm shining.
I am the moon – I'm a rock that keeps spiralling.
I am a black hole – I am collapsing.
I have so many eyes – we are a singular entity.
The world revolves by revolution.
Reality is fixed,
But you can always change your mind…"
With Taichi protecting him with his body, Takeru felt very comfortable and very, very clever yelling over the masses, "so, Taichi, how's the new blonde?!" He didn't miss the uncontrollable, face-slicing tooth-show Taichi had on when he yelled back, "the freakiest little sex puppet I ever met!"
'Cause, really, Yamato was a walking, talking, wet dream on display. All that sleek skin reminded Taichi he'd make Yamato look exactly like that again later. Just as flushed and just as wet when he'd get Yamato under him in half an hour or so. Taichi couldn't wait to go backstage and fuck Yamato silly.
The heat pooling down his loins almost leaked out. The memory of Yamato's burning skin against Taichi's, and knowing what it's like to claim the rosebuds which formed Yamato's lips with his own, was Taichi's analgesic. One hit – and he was in a better place. Was Taichi over-romanticizing? Fuck yeah, like a right muppet he was. Would he share his inner allegories for parts of Yamato's anatomy with Yamato? Fuck no.
"My functions are limitless,
My series don't converge,
Maybe,
I'm trying to feel all the holes in my head.
I've divided by zero – now everyone's dead."
The song ended with a fading chord and the drumsticks hitting the cymbal with a light touch.
It was always a weirder one for Taichi. Yamato said it was some sort of a mathematical joke. That was so much like Yamato. He always marched to his own tune and rocked with his own solo – often literally.
Romantic Love songs weren't a part of his repertoire since middle-school, no matter how good those sold with teeny-boppers and scene queens. Every second song on the radio was about romancing someone, bonking someone, or trying to romance someone so you could bonk them afterwards. The topic'd been chewed over into a cliché. It was a peg-legged whore Yamato felt bad about cheapening further.
Yamato wasn't here for the pay. He was here to say his honest-to-fuck words and deliver clear messages. He'd say that all music, all songs, are a world in their own right. Moments frozen in time and encapsulated in formaldehyde, preserved like a crystal ball. They were lullabies to put children to sleep with. They were love letters kept in a secret drawer, biding their time till they'd burst with emotions and could be withheld no longer. They were odes to glory and virtue. They spanned every form of conflict, from riots to full-fledged wars. They spanned stories. They were suicide notes. Some were a request for help while others tried to connect with them in offers of support.
That was one of the things Taichi loved most about the blighter. Taichi wagered most people fell under the 'Pleaser' sub-type as far as their role in the food-chain was concerned. Some were nice. Some had their mouth so deep up someone's arse, the flavour of shit would never wash off. That didn't make them bad or anything, but caring for everyone meant they cared for no one and that's just cruel.
Taichi's no hypocrite. It was very easy for him to gain people's smiles – but there was this something about earning someone's feelings that he wanted. It's an ego stroke. You get to feel worthy. That's half the reason Taichi always wanted Yamato to be his friend. That's also why he knew now there wasn't going to be anyone else who could give Taichi what he needed. And also what he wanted. Yamato was the real thing. Skimp with affections he won't give away easily – when Yamato did let them come, being on their receiving end was like high-fiving napalm and surviving to tell the story to your mates at the pub. Being friends with Yamato was like beating an unachievable goal or being blown by a force of nature.
And right now, on stage, Yamato was going to blow Taichi's balls away. Figuratively and, hopefully, literally afterwards.
As per any rock concert tradition, Knife of Day evacuated the stage and waited for the "encore!" chants to summon them back up.
"Alright, rioters, Knife of Day has a special treat for you. This one's called 'For You'. It's a toast: for the nights we won't remember with the friends we won't forget."
He started the overture with his bass line, altering between notes using a repetitive motif. For that one person who waited for him, somewhere out there, Yamato would pour everything that he was into the sea of roaring people he couldn't see and the few who cared.
"Everything…
You and I'd done anything.
All of heaven's stars were ripped
Like flesh fruit from Eden's tree.
Far away…
The ceaseless thoughts always return to that day,
When we lay down and stared like warriors, on blood–drenched battlefields.
Please forget about the world and lingering on yesterdays.
Why dwell on the past when we can own today?…"
A short instrumental segment composed of intermittent pauses made way to reciting:
"All we have is immaterial,
The secrets of the fading gardens aren't ours anymore.
If I could, the two of us would bechasing kites.
Like we used to.
Falling, like the children do
And me,
a part of me and you..."
The gentle thrum returned and evolved into a full blown beat which resonated with clarity when Yamato sang the chorus, hormones in his voice:
"So why won't you come by?
Step unto my seal?
And I will let you in,
And you will lie down,
And I will give you wine,
The cheapest brand I find.
Show you all my scars,
And you will fuck me hard,
And cater to my greed,
My every whim and need,
A Stone Age kind of creed,
The lust I must forfeit,
when I am on my knees,
To kiss your lovely crown
My one and only king.
When my heart stops beating
I want your everything.
Chains…
On my tongue taste like the iron in blood.
Mute because three words can't contain me.
Can't contain us. Only you, you are, to me, an endless galaxy
Of sub-atomic particles – ever changing, ever shining.
All the noises in our knotted capillaries breed harmony.
In a world where tidal waves can rise from ripples,
Let me show you why storms are named after people.
And me, becoming impossible…
And if you fall again I want to go with you,
And if I'll get lost, I'll still find you.
And even if the world ends, I'll let it end as it began
Until the very end of what is you and me,
until there is no end.
And even after everything,
Nothing else matters, nothing else means anything.
And between the missing piece, found you here.
We cried liked crazy together,
And you,
Are a part of you and me.
"So when will you come by?
And step unto my seal?
So I will let you in,
Letting you lie down,
I will give you wine,
The cheapest brand I find.
And you will tell your story,
And touch my naked bones
As I bear to you my veins,
Crawl out of my skin,
Expose my heart and ribs
The universe in me –
Its stars and constellations
So you will map my ins'.
When our hearts stop beating
I'll be your everything…"
The music echoed through Taichi's skin. This was rapture.
"So what if we let go?
And what if we race past the lights, no hands on the wheel?
So what if we'll become waves?
And what if we rise and crush with no one waiting by the shore?
So what if we go?
And what if we were never found?
Let's get lost.
Let's never be found…"
There was a moment of silence when Yamato picked up his harmonica and let its song be the only one. For one whole minute, the sound of the harmonica was the world's heart-beat.
"Please… now, before we turn too old,
Come find me.
Carve your existence into my being.
You are afraid
Like I am afraid.
Tie your fingers with mine, so that I won't run away. Not anymore.
Please… why won't you lie beside me,
In a Kingdom by the sun,
On old grass,
Under mad sky
And the smell of us,
And stop the gushing future before it drowns us both… please,
Just for a little while?
Eternity is only contained in fractures of moments fleeting,
Then our hearts stop beating,
Until we're a puzzle piece in the earthly green
This alone can make me human.
You alone can make me seen…"
The sounds were all discordant and playing to their own beats, but the melody was real and riddled with compassion. A song to go on living. All those things tumbled out of Yamato – and Taichi knew they were given something special. He knew it since they were Chosen.
It was funny how all those things Yamato said and all those things Yamato didn't say were so meaningless compared to what he let Taichi see. And it was beautiful, just like Yamato himself and just as Taichi wanted Yamato to see him.
"And if… if it were given
I would sacrifice everything and trade off my life.
To see only once again your smile,
And know you are alive."
The last echoes of Yamato's voice reverberated through the venue.
A single reprieve for silence permeated the space before the roof almost went off with the volcanic force of rock fans that erupted inside the building.
Yamato left them with his final words and their seething, raving selves when the Knives went off-stage – not taking the piss this time. He'd never stop loving the exhilaration of going off stage after an amazing gig. It was a reason to live forever. Pure ataraxia. Second only to having Taichi, this was how euphoria got its name.
Their absence was filled with the Dropkick Murphys.
When Yamato entered the back room, a space decorated with Metal paraphernalia and one 'Nevermind the Bollocks' vinyl hammered to the wall, he loaded the hands of his mates with fresh Fireball pints.
They toasted a rock-well-rolled and listened to Zero belch the alphabet in gratitude. One could say he and Yamato had a love-hate relationship. Barring playing together, the entire pillar of their connection was based on loving to hate the same things.
Then Yamato cued them in about the recent development in his sex life.
Taichi ran behind the scenes like it was going to be the last thing he'd do in is life. He's gonna pin Yamato to the nearest surface the moment he finds him and fuck him and fuck him and fuck him all good n' proper till Yamato was fucked.
He got impatient waiting for the crowd to dwindle and had to have Dasha confirm to the bouncers he wasn't a murder-rapist who was out to use Yamato's face as a decorative piece over his fireplace.
So when Taichi saw Yamato – with Yamato's hair being more of an anarchist than Yamato himself and falling flaxen over his forehead in that sexy, wet way it did – Taichi got milimetres from his face and, "You love me," he said, out of breath.
Yamato blinked once. Then twice, dumbfounded. Or just dumb. Did he somehow fail to make it clear to Taichi how much he loved him during the last nine years? "You're an idiot."
"I love you. I gotta be."
"And crazy."
"And crazy," Taichi confirmed.
"…I love you," Yamato whispered.
"I know."
In the dunk room, illuminated red by two lamps built in the floor, Yamato and Taichi were hugging. Rubbing feet and their warm cheeks together, inhaling sweat and aftershave. Their hands found comfortable and familiar places to stay in and that's what they did.
Yamato didn't mind his arms under Taichi's armpits. It's not like there can possibly be any more sweat on him. His fingers weaved through Taichi's hair, which was limp from the humidity in the club, and kissed one of Taichi's dimples, lips skimming soft skin. Then Yamato buried his face in Taichi's neck and made Taichi tighten his hold on him. Taichi stroked up and down Yamato's upper back.
"I don't reckon I ever had a song before," Taichi said, muffled by the blonde hair in his mouth.
"I wrote tons of songs about you," and before the much anticipated query had a chance to leave Taichi's ultra-curious hatch, "and I'm not gonna tell you which ones they are. But I'm glad you enjoyed the gig."
"Bloody hell, mate!" Taichi wailed, "Kurt Cobain is rolling in his grave to hide the massive hard on you just gave him! People were shitting themselves into a Golgotha."
Taichi moved his head back a bit, just in time to see Yamato's eyes glisten with a wet sheen. Yamato blinked harshly, trying to stump the flow, and tossed hair out of his eyes.
The motion sent a whiff of sweat and Yamato's herbal shampoo up Taichi's nostrils. In a moment, Taichi was up against Yamato's body, pinning him to the wall, and picking him straight up with Taichi's hands cupping Yamato's perfect arse. His finger slipped up Yamato's shirt and tugged at his piercing.
Yamato clung to Taichi with both his arms and legs, letting Taichi carry him around. Yamato's hands dropped under the waistline of Taichi's jeans, kneading Taichi's plump tushy to goad him on.
"How will this affect your reputation…? Isn't image everything in the business…?" Taichi asked in between the instances he used to catch Yamato's mouth with deliberate kisses.
"Reputations are meant to be tarnished."Taichi's lips were hot and salty with sweat, making them fun for Yamato to suck onwhile he plundered their goods. "It's not like I intended to do this all my life, anyway."
Taichi dropped Yamato on the table and ground into his crotch. Memories of Yamato's bare arse, sprayed with so much of Taichi's cum, from multiple fucks, flashed before Taichi's eyes.
"Fuck, Yama, I'm so hard for you it fucking hurts." His voice dropped to that deep, husky tone, knowing what it did to Yamato, as Taichi rubbed circles into the small of Yamato's back.
"Oh? And what do you think may help?"
Not a question – a very well-executed tease, performed with an octave as seductive as Yamato could put out there while giving Taichi's waist a gentle squeeze.
Taichi delivered a sharp slap to Yamato's bum before cupping it again. "I can stick it in here. I'll fill you up with my load in a minute."
He shifted their balance so he could free one hand and slide it up Yamato's shirt to pet his flat tummy, feeling the way it dipped behind Yamato's hipbones. Taichi's mouth moved from nipping at the sensitivity of Yamato's ears to kissing him roughly again, missing Yamato's mouth half the time, and forming the barely teetering on the edge of intelligible: "let me in you…
"You always are." Yamato latched himself onto Taichi's Adam's apple before kissing down the line of Taichi's oesophagus to the collar of his deodorant-infused, soaked shirt.
Neither Taichi nor Yamato were the traditionally romantic type. No bouquet of flowers for Yamato. Which was good since Yamato wouldn't have any idea how to deal with that. Maybe, in time, when they'd get more comfortable in their commitment, they'd acquire some planted cacti and call them Togemon-Jimmy, Togemon-Robert , Togemon-John and Togemon-John Poul. Till then, they were more the pelvis-breaking, hard sex on a running washing machine type of boyfriends. They were going to keep it practical, as well. For now, academics had to come first, as well as work. They planned on getting the whole adult-ing stuff right.
This was not some magical, deterministic relationship where they were "meant for each other" or any some such rubbish. They weren't. It just happened. The fact that Yamato's lucky stars happened to align themselves was about love, luck and friendship – not fate.
Taichi stopped. He pulled Yamato to his body without saying anything and held him, radiating warmth and lust beneath the layers of his tissues. Taichi cupped Yamato's jaw with both hands. His fingers travelled, archiving the sensation of Yamato's neck in their sensory memory.
Yamato closed his eyes and waited until Taichi was content with what he wanted to feel.
"I have an after-party in mind," he said when Taichi paused, and fixed Taichi with a look. A look Taichi couldn't read but knew he should follow. Like a command. If Taichi hadn't already had one, it would have given him an instant hard-on. Yamato had it bad. Soon, he'd be on his knees, begging Taichi.
"Mmmm?"
"I want to suck you off in the alley."
"What? Why?"
Yamato's forehead creased, but relaxed just as fast. What's the point? If Taichi didn't think about it, Yamato didn't want to bring it up. "I'm weak – a slave to the throes of passion. I also love being taken advantage of. I will accept no retaliation from you on the matter."
Taichi grunted and bounced on his toes. "You're making this really hard." – He talked about refusing the mighty generous offer.
"It can't be helped, Taichi." Yamato grabbed Taichi's junk and stroked up and down the zip. "I can't control your boner. Only encourage it."
And there it was, Taichi's last, clear thought: 'fuck it.'
'No' became a dirty word. Saucy, lusty Yamato was nice. Saucy, lusty Yamato was very nice. Very, very nice. And having him in a wide-open space, getting all risky and dangerous was even better.
"I planned on fucking you senseless till tomorrow evening, but I guess my schedule is flexible, my one-noted flute maestro."
Yamato buried his hand inside the wild strands which were much silkier to the touch than the bush they were associated with. Resting against Taichi's chest was Yamato's free hand and he ran it along the sexy plains of Taichi's body.
"I love you."
"I love me too."
"Dick."
"Be patient. You'll get it soon."
"I'll get a taxi and go home alone, is what I'll get."
"I love you too, Yamato."
Takeru weaved his way past the river of frothing rock fans and tried avoiding being crashed during his quest to the back stage.
When he got there, it was just in time to see the lads from Knife of Day, sans his brother, moving amps and gear to the van. He said his 'hi's and 'hello's, but before he grabbed the knob poking from the backroom's door, Ren one-upped him and smiled with his one missing tooth. "Don't wanna go in there, mate. Your brother's with his bum chums now and I reckon it's gonna start smelling like arse in there pretty soon."
Takeru backed away, smiling wide.
Yamato started getting used to the boyfriend terminology, even if it was weird at first. And to be treated like Taichi's bitch in the bedroom here and there. What he wasn't able to get used to were these new, possessive urges he had. He left a huge hickey on Taichi before they left the house and even from the stage, he kept his eye on anyone going anywhere near his Taichi. HIS Taichi. HIS. Taichi was his man. Barring the sex though, nothing changed all that much otherwise.
Taichi got used to having a hot blonde with perfect, perfect lips semi-permanently attached to his cock rather fast. Yamato made him feel very complete. Their newfound way to interact also gave Taichi a brave new world to run unrestrained in. Explore sex with someone he was entirely himself with and who wanted what he wanted. Their world of freedom, unquestioned trust, and vast understating has now opened for them venues of new sensations and they raced to educate themselves with their bodies.
After the last two days, Taichi was more familiar with himself than he had ever been prior. There was harmony inside his body. Every aspect of himself was a transparent sheet to him and he was visible to himself in his entirety. Touches resonated, hitting every single nerve throughout his grid till they exploded in his brain. Yamato opened him completely.
Yamato loved the process of studying the art of 'Taichi'. Learning what Taichi loved. Learning the many different shades, strokes, and sounds Taichi made every time Yamato trifled with doing something new to Taichi's body. Along with those, not once did Yamato abandon the "old" stuff which made Taichi whine. Taichi loved having a felattio performed on him – that was a given – and Yamato loved performing it on him. For Pete's sake, Taichi's cock made Yamato's mouth water! Really, what was it in his brain that made him look at Taichi and go "I want to put this in my mouth"?
He learnt Taichi had a particular, sensitive spot in the middle of his back where he was ticklish in and it made him do funny noises. He learnt Taichi liked sleeping on his chest after sex and have Yamato cradle his head. It reminded Taichi how Yamato came to him during the battle with Piedmon. It always held a significant weight in him. And, apparently, Yamato's heart had a good sound. Taichi said he could hear it well through Yamato's thin chest.
But what Taichi loved most was being kissed. On his lips, on his cheeks, on his ears, on his brow, on his eyebrows, on his nose – especially on his nose – on his neck, on his nape, on his collarbone, on his shoulders, on his chest, on his arms, on his forearms, on his wrists, on each finger, on his abs, in his navel, on his knees, on his ankles – and even on his large toe! On his thighs, his inner thighs, between his thighs, where a mouth wouldn't normally go: on the small hole of his arse – which made Taichi squirm and fidget and sweat and not believe it just happened – and on his cock. Dutifully, Yamato tried kissing all these spots. For Taichi, the sex was great, but kisses blew his head off. The only place Yamato couldn't kiss Taichi on was the top of his head. It was like trying to dive into a lion.
With Taichi pinned to the wall, Yamato dropped to his knees. When he went down, the cuts on his back tore against the stretch, again, and sent tiny stings up his back.
Luca got it right. The alley was dead and only the draped windows above it suggested there was life in this monument for dead-ends.
From Yamato's attractive vantage point, Taichi's huge package was all over the place and right in Yamato's face, aching under those teeny-weeny tight jeans. How did Taichi even get into those with this thing?!
Yamato looped his fingers around Taichi's belt, unfastening it with light-speed ease and ripping open his trousers.
'Shit, he's horny.' But Taichi loved watching Yamato exposing Taichi's body to him. It was very sexy; Yamato looked so happy, especially since he always had that expression about him when he did it – the expression of a child unwrapping a Christmas present after waiting for it all year long. Or nine years.
Yamato started by sniffing Taichi's knees. He developed a fetish for them fast enough. They always had a cute umami aroma. Yamato loved Taichi's legs as a whole, actually. Years of football did a bloody marvel on them, making them all muscular and firm all the way up to Taichi's teeth-sinking-worthy inner thighs.
Taichi sighed in relief at the sensation of his zip being pulled down. He let his trousers sail to the ground, treating Yamato with a stiff bulge that was already wet and leaking.
Yamato's mouth curved in a big, wide, toothy way; he was a puppy getting his bone. He began rubbing Taichi through the tight boxers, his thumb prodding Taichi's sensitive tip. It got those cute "ooo…" moans to come out of Taichi.
Creating that small pool of pre-cum in Taichi's undies so proficiently had made Yamato ecstatic. Very proud of himself. He didn't know if Taichi was this eager around girls, but he didn't feel like discovering either.
One sassy glance up and Yamato was putting his mouth, wide open, on the heavy throbbing hiding underneath the briefs. He frenched Taichi's trapped dick, sucked the frame of his cock, kissed, and licked. The piercing on Yamato's tongue grazed the flesh through the cotton and strummed the folds near the top – the ones where Taichi was particularly sensitive at.
Yamato was such a tease, the vision of decadence and immorality, and he was making Taichi look. Taichi's underwear was getting wet with Yamato's saliva. Small droplets got on Yamato's cheek and Yamato was just so sexy and he really wanted Taichi and just having Yamato worship him like this was so nice and sweet and-
When a warm hand closed around his dick, Taichi hummed with that familiar bliss building around in his belly. Sweat poured down his forehead and his hair clung to it, matted.
When Yamato couldn't keep it in either, he peeled Taichi's boxers off and those devil magic genitals of Taichi's sprang to attention. Yamato got all hands-y with it instantly. When Taichi's massive meat jerked in his fist, Yamato began pumping it good and hard, up and down, up and down. He was so desperate to feel Taichi; desperate to give Taichi what he wanted.
A pearly tear fell off the slit and Yamato lapped it off, flicking his tongue in cute, small and quick motions, letting Taichi enjoy his perky "Kitten".
Yamato gave a small suckle to the tip and marvelled at it. "You know, I have never seen a more compelling argument supporting the existence of a god than your dick. And if its gender and sex aren't as ambiguous as western scriptures imply, then you can be damn sure it's either one horny lady or a very, very gay mister."
Taichi contemplated. "How much gay is very, very gay?"
Yamato, who was back to sucking on the lollipop, gave Taichi a look of are-we-seriously-having-this-debate-now-with-your-cock-in-my-mouth-?.
"I just figured," Taichi defended himself with way too many hand motions, "if you like pushing penises into your throat and taking it up the arse, it's pretty much as gay as it gets."
Filling up his mouth with the heavy shaft, Yamato smiled around it and rolled his eyes, hoping Taichi would shut his mouth. Maintaining conversation while sucking dick was past the limits of his multi-tasking skills.
It worked stupendously. Taichi was panting and hissing and cursing and having mixed feelings about the existence of Yamato's mouth, that he hated and admired, and he knew he wasn't going to last long. Not when Yamato was servicing him. Yamato had the pinkest, tightest lips Taichi's cock had ever fucked.
Between a moan, some damn dirty pants, and watching Yamato's white throat bouncing around him, Taichi tried dirty talking. Dirty-talk was such a turn on for Yamato. "You like it when I fuck your mouth, don't you, kitten?"
It earned Taichi a deep, hard suction and he hissed, running his hands through of Yamato's hair. "You are so good to me, Yamato… so, so good to me…"
Yamato pulled out to rest his mouth, clenching his lips into a tiny ring on the way up, and said, "You deserve to have good things happen to your penis, Taichi," and after a few more pumps of his wrist, he swallowed Taichi's shaft back up.
Yamato had cock-sucking down to an art. He didn't give blow-jobs, he gave one-man blow-nados! It became nigh impossible for Taichi not to rock his hips against Yamato's face.
Yamato bloody excelled at pushing back against Taichi's thrusts, though. He got Taichi groaning like a beast and blowing his load inside Yamato's mouth. Yamato also made sure Taichi was staring at him when the sperm dribbled down Yamato's throat and he swallowed each drop of cum like an expert. The few beads coating his lips after Taichi's massive explosion inside him were licked away, slowly and hungrily. That way, Yamato made sure he kept every bit of Taichi's nectars.
He was an addict now, and he couldn't exist in a world where Taichi wasn't filling his holes. When Yamato was sure Taichi was done, he pulled him from his mouth, and tucked Taichi safely back in his trunks.
Their tryst left a few wiry pubes between Yamato's teeth which he discreetly collected and spat out.
"Oi, Yamato, you want me to shave?"
"Nah, it's all right." Yamato ran his hand through Taichi's dunk bush. "I love the smell."
"I fink you're freaky and I like you a lot, Yamato Ishida."
"Oh wow, you came so hard you're quoting Die Antwood?"
"I came so hard you missed a spot." Taichi pulled Yamato up by his arms. That renegade viscid drop drizzled past Yamato's lips, down his chin, and was about to drop on his hand. Taichi leaned in to lick the evasive bulb, and lingered there so he could trace Yamato's lower lip with his tongue. "I think my legs went numb. Why the fuck are you so good at this…?"
Yamato hummed against the hot mouth which was all over his. "You may be surprised, but this," he pointed to the lower half of his face "-is Harmonica. Anyone who plays will tell you the harp is all about blowing and sucking."
"Bloody hell, blud. You really are built for pleasure." Taichi gawked at Yamato with a mix of awe and honest admiration for another man's skills. "Well, my pleasure," he added when Yamato went red for reasons which precluded the intense workout his oral muscles had been subjected to.
"Fuck off, Taichi."
Ducking a punch, Taichi span Yamato around and encircled him in his arms. He docked his forehead between Yamato's shoulder-blades and sniffed. The wet patches of his T-shirt all oozed concentrated endorphins.
When Yamato stopped trying to fight him off, Taichi asked, "Can I stay over tonight? And sleep in your bed…?"
Large and rough hands covered Taichi's and ran soft circles against his knuckles.
"What kind of a stupid question is that?"
Taichi squeezed Yamato harder and Yamato pinched his arm. "We just need to drop everyone off. Ren is too drunk to drive and Dasha and Zero have no license."
Taichi shotgunned. It was pretty awesome – sitting in a van with a rock band in the back, the altering views of the city chasing each other down in quick succession. He was there one moment and then he wasn't. Orange streetlights stretched into bright stripes and the wind of the road sieved through the open window.
Dasha was the last to be dropped off, somewhere at the edge of the town. Once she faded into the industrial view, Yamato and Taichi made a U-turn and headed back.
The drive seemed to go on forever. Could have been the hour. 2 AM makes a person lethargic.
Yamato placed his arm over Taichi's shoulders, smoothing his thumb up and down Taichi's neck before playing with his ear a bit. At the next red light, Yamato's hand dropped to the base of Taichi's head and Yamato smiled at Taichi who innocently smiled back.
"Suck me off, Taichi."
"Are you bloody joking?"
"What do you think?"
"Sure you can drive?"
"Are you daft or something? Yes I can drive. Suck me off."
Taichi shrugged his shoulders. Next thing he knew, his hands dived for Yamato's crotch and were undoing the belt, button, and zip. One look, and it was clear just how much Yamato wanted this. This was great for Taichi. There was always that side in him that wanted to please Yamato.
He readjusted the seat belt, lowered his head to Yamato's lap and took out Yamato's dick from the boxers. The mushroom head was already shiny, dripping a bit from the top. Taichi masturbated it a bit first, watching it leap in anticipation. Seeing that would never fail to make him happy. Taichi put it in his mouth and got even happier with Yamato's heavy groan in Taichi's ear.
He'd give Yamato head any time that yob asked, simply because Yamato wanted one. It's not that Taichi developed an oral fixation or somethin' outta nowhere. He still thought dicks were kinda gross, but he wanted to practice and get better. Yamato deserved this.
The heavy meat filled out Taichi's cheeks, salty with sweat and the tender juices it emitted. It was opening his throat and Taichi relaxed his muscles to fit it in him as he went up and down, tightening his lips around the tip. That was what Yamato loved best.
The hand which wasn't working the shaft excavated deeper down Yamato's briefs and fondled his balls. Yamato grunted, communicating his incoherent appreciation. Warm fingers tugged at Yamato's Guiche and Yamato whimpered while Taichi smiled around his knob. Totally Taichi's favourite new toy.
When the blow job got intense, Yamato dug the hand which wasn't steering the wheel into Taichi's hair. It was thick and provided a good contrast.
"Taichi…!"
That's the signal – Taichi freed Yamato's shaft from his mouth with the smack of his lips, just in time to collect Yamato's cum between his fingers. He glanced up at Yamato with a small, sweet smile – as if he expected to be praised.
Yamato smiled back, licked Taichi's hand, and wiped off the remains with a piece of paper towel that's been jammed behind the gear stick.
"Thank you, baby."
Taichi's smile turned embarrassed at the nickname, but in a shy, cute way. When he got his face back, he noticed that wherever Yamato took them – it was not Odaiba. No lights, no hum of the city's bustle, no hungover salaryman slurring into their phones. Not even the Rainbow Bridge. Great view of the stars though. Lupus and Ursa Minor were brilliant, and not only because that was their star-job or something.
Rough fingertips got snugged under Taichi's ear and mad goose-pimples flourished across his nape. Yamato hit an erogenous zone of his.
When Taichi turned back to him, Yamato's eyeballs were already half-way under his lids. Taichi's blood started pumping hard enough for it to echo in his inner ear.
Yamato grabbed the back of Taichi's head to mould them more properly into each other's mouths. It was a hard thing – as if Yamato was a starved animal who had all its instincts kick in at the same time. Taichi loved it when Yamato kissed him like this: open mouthed kisses – no tongues. Completely amazing in its own right.
Given a few minutes, fierce snogging was afoot. Somewhere in the middle of it, Taichi's body was lowered down. Yamato pressed on Taichi's arms until Taichi's head was lying on the back of the seat. After getting him where he wanted, Yamato moved the tendrils of Taichi's hair to expose his bronze throat to him and bit Taichi's neck.
He calmed down a bit and took a break to tell Taichi, "It's a rock-star's tradition to fuck groupies in the band's van, Taichi," and to give him a vicious smile. Taichi couldn't believe how hard Yamato wanted to fuck his brains out. "I'm going to fuck you, babe. I'm going to take away your anal virginity."
So, basically, Yamato took Taichi to the other side of nowhere to have his wicked way with Taichi. It was such a cliché, but Taichi was more of a sucker for tropes than he'd ever admit. He felt sexy and wanted and desirable – like someone who could actually look good standing next to Yamato. No turn-on was sweeter than this.
The fact that, at any moment, anyone could see them – see Taichi getting fucked with a big cock shoved into his arse over and over – made the sex even better. Being desired like this by Yamato wasn't bad at all. Taichi realised he liked this type of attention. He also realised he'd been waiting to hand his control over to someone else and openly wanted it. It was so great, to be led for a change; let someone else take the reins, and there was no one else for whom he could surrender away his control like he could for Yamato. With how nicely the muscle on Yamato's arm flexed just now, rimming Taichi's head, it was especially true. Now Taichi could feel what Yamato felt when Taichi had him. His mind was clear. Only Yamato's touch existed for him.
'Yob's better not have done it with other people!'
"I- I've never done anything like this Taichi, so…"
'Do NOT squeal, Yagami. DO NOT!'
Yamato planned this evening with tweezer-like precision and got high on the rush of having every bit of his wants executed perfectly thus far. The steering wheel was poking his back, but what's a little pain?
Lust was written all over Yamato and his hands clutched Taichi's T-shirt. Taichi gulped. He wasn't going to refuse.
Taichi pounced back into Yamato's mouth and tried tearing the jacket off him. Yamato pushed right back. He almost jumped over the gear box to get to Taichi's seat.
Perching himself with Taichi's knees trapped between his thighs, Yamato pulled the lever under the seat. It slid back like one of those lazy-boy couches and Yamato covered Taichi like a long, sexy scarf.
Taichi wanted to reward Yamato. He lifted his leg over Yamato's shoulder so that his foot hit the ceiling, showing some impressive, elastic acrobatics and giving Yamato a great presentation which Yamato appreciated plenty.
'Shit…' Yamato didn't intend to bother taking off his jeans when he screwed Taichi. Yamato wanted to fuck him as if Taichi was just a common bimbo. Give him a little bouncy-bounce on his lap and make Taichi scream his name for him.
He ground into Taichi, panting. "Finally got you."
Some manoeuvring from Yamato eased the pressure on Taichi's groin, so Taichi still managed to find his inner clown. "Really? And what if some other man kissed me?"
There was nothing funny about the way Yamato stared at him in response. It was bloody scary, it was. "If you ever kiss another man, Taichi, a copper will find his head on a pike behind a fast food's piss alley. And you will be tied to my bed for the rest of your life where I'll fuck you again and again and again and make you suck my dick till 'other man' taste is out of your mouth."
"… What the shit, dude?!"
At the shocked – spooked, to be honest – face Taichi showed him, Yamato did a 180 immediately. "I'm so sorry. Shitty joke. My testosterone got in the way between my brain and my mouth." Yamato cupped Taichi's face in his palms and kissed him on the nose. That spot was sure-proof blackmail.
"Like, I appreciate you prioritising my arse but, seriously, chill."
"Sorry…"
When the sides of Taichi's lips went up, a silent 'I forgive you', Yamato snaked his hand down to Taichi's bum and fondled it under Taichi's boxers. Taichi had a warm, plump booty and Yamato appreciated it. "I wanted this for a very long time…"
Taichi nodded. 'I know,' and he was as stubborn as Yamato. When Yamato tried laying him again, Taichi didn't let him get anywhere near his penis before Yamato stripped. Taichi wanted Yamato's tight stomach and muscled chest. He downright pouted and crossed his arms. Yamato rolled his eyes but gave in.
They tried fumbling with clothes. Renegade limbs hit plastic parts, the glass, and the ceiling of the van – the latter both by Taichi's foot and his head. Mist formed on the windows and the closed-off, tiny space was becoming so soggy and disgusting, Yamato was sticking into the cheap poly of the seats.
"Right. Fuck it."
Yamato kicked open the door. He darted to Taichi's side of the van, dragged his hands down the flanks of Taichi's thighs, hooked them under Taichi's knees, had Taichi's legs wrap around Yamato's waist, and wrenched Taichi off his seat before almost dropping his heavy arse on the ground.
Taichi yelped. Yamato relented and he and Taichi rolled their way out of the vehicle like a couple of dolts. After the relief of taking that first whiff of fresh air, Yamato took Taichi's hand and they ran deeper between the trees, away from prying eyes.
They found themselves in a clearing with a patch of green grass and not too many rocks.
It was the two of them, the wide open, and the sky.
Yamato threw his jacket on the ground and side-eyed Taichi, who stared right back at him. They laughed. It wasn't much of a space for two grown-ass men, but whatever.
Arriving from behind, large hands went prodding under Yamato's T and divested him out of it. A warm, sultry breath ghosted up and down his neck, sighing when it towed a kiss to the top of Yamato's left shoulder blade. Fingers cascaded the length of his torso, pinching the piercing on his belly-button – their favourite spot – and the one on his nipple – the second place. Finally, two palms were on his hips and the hard body behind him swayed gently from one foot to the other, till he and Taichi were dancing to music they made up.
Yamato turned around inside the muscled hoop Taichi built around him. No protests were raised when he laid his hands on Taichi's chest, or when he did nothing but look at Taichi while lowering him to the ground.
Yamato's eyes – they shone with the stars behind his head. Taichi floated in space through Yamato's pupils and he thought he saw Andromeda there. The stars, the thick trees, the musky scent of humid soil, and Yamato on top of him was like being in the Digital World again. Taichi couldn't stop smiling.
Taichi reckoned Yamato was also reliving a time like that because he had that look. That intense look only Yamato got. He cupped Taichi's cheek, and traced Taichi's lower lip with his index. This is definitely how Taichi wanted to go. 'Fuck!' Taichi loved this so much, when Yamato was like this – the way Yamato stared at him, with his undivided attention trained on Taichi and nothing else. Like nothing else but Taichi mattered to him. If this were the last thing Taichi did in his life… yeah.
"Let's strip." Yamato straddled Taichi's waist and hauled Taichi's T-shirt over his head. Yamato's hands worshiped Taichi's chest and admired the jump of muscles beneath them while his own muscled torso and narrow waist were on display.
Yamato's own jeans, though, stayed on for now. Taichi loved Yamato in his uber tight skinnies.
And true to his reputation, Taichi couldn't avert his gaze from the way Yamato's jeans hugged his hips. Taichi did love Yamato's body – it was thin, but toned and muscular. Athletic from casual work-outs. Great male aesthetic.
Yamato slowly eased Taichi's boxers down his thighs. His hands roved Taichi's body and Taichi melted under them. He looked away, red in the face, letting Yamato enjoy this rare coy moment of his.
"You can be rougher, Yamato. I am a man…"
"It can't be helped…" Despite what Yamato thought he wanted earlier, doing this to Taichi was different from anything he fantasized about or experienced while having sex. "No one else will have me like you do," he whispered near that sensitive spot under Taichi's ear and laid a tender kiss on Taichi's temple. From it, he descended the warm pieces of Taichi's physiognomy, from the vale bridging his nose to the hills of his cheeks. Taichi giggled when Yamato's fringe tickled his neck and it was great.
Yamato inserts himself into Taichi's mouth, drawing circles inside his cheek. Blindly, he groped around the jacket they were fooling around on and tried finding the inner pocket to get to the lube he stashed in it.
'Ah!' found it!
"Take out my cock, will you, blud?"
'God, fucking hell!' but there was something so ungodly sexy about Yamato when he commanded Taichi and used a bad-boy front-man attitude to do it. Taichi jumped up and yanked Yamato's zip down, almost tearing off the button, while Yamato poured some transparent goo on his fingers.
The hard, swelling member leapt and quivered in Taichi's face. It was slick and shiny under the moonlight. Taichi gave it a soft tug and ran his tongue along the prettily blushing tip with the am-I-a-good-boy? deer eyes he reserved for Yamato and food leftovers.
Yamato very much liked it, but – "You're such a babe, Taichi, but I need you to move your head."
Taichi obeyed and Yamato greased up his hungry beast. After Yamato's cock was well-lubed, his hands skidded from Taichi's waist to the taut, rounding curve of his buttocks.
When Taichi's knees were separating, his heart was about to smash his ribs. "It's an anus, Yamato! Be nice to it!"
Slickening his fingers properly, till the lubricant was dripping down his arm, Yamato smirked and stroked the little space between Taichi's balls and hole, slowly traversing to the virginal, toffee-coloured pucker. He pried Taichi's globes a bit further apart and dabbed the tight muscle of Taichi's ring with a good dose of gel. In slow, massaging motions, Yamato circled it, removing the tension from the muscular bod' under him.
He could just imagine that tight pucker sucking him in with so much friction. Very gently, Yamato inserted his middle finger between the narrow walls; he knew how painful the first time can be.
"Does it hurt?"
"No," Taichi breathed out, "but it's kinda weird. The area around the hole – I think I like it there."
"That's good."
Taichi's small, pained expressions, combined with him throwing his head back and his soft mewls, did nothing for Yamato's patience, though.
In a few seconds of prodding into his boyfriend's anus, Yamato found that small walnut swell inside Taichi that would send him to new heights of pleasure. Yamato pushed his finger directly at it, nudged a bit, and added rubbing as he'd gone deeper.
Results were immediate. Taichi clung onto Yamato and made all sorts of voices which indicated how thoroughly Taichi was enjoying himself: moaning, grunting, whispering Yamato's name softly. If Yamato were a cat, he'd be purring.
'Holy HolyAngemon!' Taichi's mind screamed. What was Yamato doing to him?!
"Come here…" Yamato grunted, curled Taichi's legs around his waist and pulled Taichi up till he was sitting in Yamato's lap, facing him.
When Taichi was flush against Yamato's knuckle, Yamato churned inside Taichi's rectum. Yamato's middle finger went in and out, stroking along that sensitive bundle inside Taichi's arse that was setting him off in such a lovely way, with practiced skill.
Slowly, Taichi arched his back, asking to take it deeper, and rocked himself on the digit to the rhythm Yamato dictated inside him. Biting his lip, eyes half closed – when Taichi's breath quickened, Yamato lifted his palm to the golden-brown chest to feel Taichi's heart rate and his needy pants.
Yamato inserted another finger and Taichi's breath became erratic.
"Shuu," Yamato lulled, "'s alright. A bit more," and added a third finger. Taichi's breathing was becoming shallow and fast. He'd be ready for Yamato in seconds.
Taichi whimpered and shook in Yamato's arms. Taichi's flesh had been stretched so much – but Yamato was so patient with him. He attuned himself to every sound, every movement in Taichi's body, down to the little shudders up his foot. Yamato really wanted to make Taichi happy with his body.
The fingers were all worm-y inside his butthole and sure, it was a bit uncomfortable for a few seconds there, but Taichi was kind of surprised at how fast he started liking it again. There was more Yamato in him and those magnificent digits knew what Taichi wanted. He was being pleasured up his bum and he was completely overjoyed with it. So when Yamato removed his fingers, careful not to hurt Taichi's internals, Taichi was sad and externalised it – a smidgen pathetic for a moment. Not in the annoying way – in the cute puffed-up-cheeks-and-stuck-out-lip way.
But the vacuum left by Yamato's digits was filled when Yamato's rock-hard organ began sliding between Taichi's rectal walls. It pulsed under the gaping pucker leading into Taichi, telling him how much Yamato wanted him, and squelched every time it moved.
"You do it, Taichi. Take your time and get my dick inside your arse…"
Well, that was kinky in a way Taichi respected. Impaling his little a-hole on a thick, hungry member. To think only a couple of weeks ago he was hetero. Maybe he really was a slut? At least for Yamato he was.
Taichi stopped trying to figure himself out because Yamato pulled him into a glorious kiss and Taichi's brain bleeped out. He held his body weight against Yamato's shoulders and started easing Yamato into his body.
Taichi's clasp hurt like a son-of-a-bitch, but Yamato ignored it. When that unbelievable, wet pressure was gripping him on all sides like a vice, Yamato clasped the back of Taichi's head, fingers yanking Taichi's hair, and growled. Taichi's butthole hugged his member very snugly.
And Taichi – Taichi threw his arms around Yamato's neck, moaning into his jaw as a rather impressive dick made its way into Taichi's rectum.
The nerve-endings sprinkled around his anus buzzed with excitement. It felt so wrong at first, though. The initial few seconds of the intrusion into him were like having an object that wasn't supposed to be there in the first place ending up going the wrong way.
After that, when Taichi adjusted, the unexpected entry became pretty good. He kinda enjoyed having something in his arse. It made him feel pervy and sexy. Wow, he did like the butt stuff after all. And letting a rock-star fuck him in his van technically made him Yamato's groupie, no? Alright, they were not technically in the van, but they got here with the van, had steamed up the windows in the van, and they were pretty close to the van. It counts. This was fun! Yamato made him feel super-hot and desired. Also… he liked the rough bits as well.
Yamato hissed, hard, "You're so good, Taichi… So tight," while shoving the head deeper, impatient, but restrained, absolutely refusing to hurt Taichi. He kissed Taichi on the side of his neck and trailed a few more smooches along Taichi's shoulders. All those years of football practise were demonstrated in the tight grip of Taichi's fantastic thighs. Yamato should really make use of Taichi's bendability in this golden opportunity.
He buried his hands in Taichi's hair and pulled Taichi's head back, sinking his teeth to leave a purple bruise on Taichi's collarbone before lapping at the offended part.
And god, was Taichi beautiful; face creasing in pleasure and body glistening with sweat and pre-cum.
"What do you say, 'Chi? Wanna have a little bouncy-bounce on my knob?" Yamato murmured with the smug face of a complete arsehole.
Taichi levelled Yamato's grin, one-third laughed, one-third groaned hard, and one-third lost his breath. "Take me, you well-endowed piece of perfection!"
So Yamato pinned down Taichi's hips to Yamato's lap and glided into him. In instants, Taichi's knuckles were white from gripping Yamato's shoulders. Yamato's hands travelled to those solid thighs and grabbed them, encouraging Taichi to go up and down his cock.
Things got fast and slippery. Loud too.
Those heated browns were becoming unfocused and the wild moan that followed told Yamato he hit the little prostate dead on. Taichi getting so turned on with Yamato inside him and all those ripped muscles tensing at the sensation – Taichi was fucking amazing! And he was incredibly submissive and moaning so loudly. Needy and sweet and slutty and full. It wasn't just the physical aspect of the sex – but also watching Taichi letting go.
"You're a bit slutty, aren't you, Taichi?"
Yamato picked up something in Taichi's body language. He thought that, maybe, he saw Taichi descending into a form of sub-space. Huh. In retrospect, it's not like it was unlike Taichi or anything. It's just that it was kinda funny; to the world, they were probably already broken, but they fixed each other just right. Taichi scratched Yamato's itches, so Yamato would scratch Taichi's. It's not like Yamato objected to the idea either. He could want this: to revel in, and monopolize, Taichi's trust and become his guide in the darkness.
"Taichi," Yamato tried being as domineering as he could, "sit on my dick and fuck yourself." Taichi observed Yamato through those large deer eyes he had and obeyed. No questions or protests. Nothing. Taichi wanted this. His deepest desire at that moment was to surrender and let Yamato take him completely – Yamato understood that. "You are not allowed to let go of my shoulders until I cum. Am I clear?"
Taichi nodded.
Yamato gave Taichi so much affection. Taichi had all of Yamato's attention. Taichi loved this. He loved this so much. Taichi loved being helpless in Yamato's lap and letting Yamato have full charge of him. His limbs were not his because they were a part of Yamato. They were an extension that connected Yamato to him. It was really good. Yamato was trying all these new things he thought would make Taichi feel good and loved. It made Taichi so happy.
"Yamato, please…" Taichi was pleased and let Yamato do whatever he wanted to him.
Making Taichi happy and doing all those things he liked to him was bloody terrific. As much as Yamato loved seeing his cock disappear between Taichi's malleable bubble-butt, bringing joy to Taichi topped the sex itself.
Yamato smoothed a hand down Taichi's back, fingers sliding against Taichi's buttocks and squeezing it softly. As if everything else about him wasn't enough, 'fucking hell,' Taichi's voice was so sexy! Just hearing it made Yamato's body hurt. Yamato wouldn't tell Taichi 'cause he won't hear the end of it if he did, but he'd dedicate half his life to producing it. Maybe his musical hearing was at fault, but Taichi's voice producing these kinds of sounds turned Yamato on so hard! It was the smutty equivalent of an aria – and Taichi was letting it out with lips which formed blushing rings.
They were fucking like they wanted all barriers between them – skin, flesh, muscles, bones, marrow, and sinews – to dissolve and let them blend seamlessly with each other. Only be.
Yamato was pistoning, going deep and hard, in and out, driving himself furiously into Taichi, who thrust himself downwards to meet Yamato midway and scream his lungs and pleasure out.
Taichi's world was a mad soup of disconnected lights and sounds, at the centre of which existed only Yamato and his good, hard cock. With the lack of thoughts, Taichi's body tensed like a coiled spring.
"Oh god! Oh god! Oh my god! Yamato!" Taichi never had an orgasm like this before. It was like having a tsunami building inside him and tearing him apart at the collision point.
Yamato as well. He shook violently, digging his nails into the hard flesh behind Taichi's thighs.
A hard jerk deep inside Taichi's butthole signalled Yamato's nearing release and made Taichi cry.
"Can I come inside…?" Yamato ragged against Taichi's shoulder, using all the feeble remains of his mental strength to form syllables.
Beyond the heavy fog of sex in his brain, Taichi managed to formulate to himself that he wasn't ready for that yet. He shook his head, slow and hazy.
Yamato understood and pulled out with one, sharp motion that elicited a cute "ahh!" out of Taichi.
Yamato stuffed his shaft between Taichi's buns and continuing to grind against their warm, slick pressure. He grabbed them and kneaded them into each other roughly, getting his cock nice and snugly – like a hotdog. He barely lasted a few seconds.
Jet after hot jet sprayed Taichi's lower back and trickled down his arse while Yamato emptied himself on him.
It was a very weird, embarrassing feeling.
Taichi dropped, boneless, on Yamato's shoulder, burying his face in the hollow of Yamato's neck. That was unbelievable.
Soft lashes closed against Taichi's rosy cheeks and it took a lot of will power on Yamato's end to not coo at Taichi as if he was a big baby. That's how cute Taichi was! Yamato moved Taichi's sweaty bangs out of his face and ran fingers through his sticky hair. "So, how was having my wee-wee up your po-po?"
Taichi flung an arm around Yamato's shoulder and pulled him closer. "I'll have to put aloe in my arse today." His face was one hundred percent pure, distilled sunshine, though, and if egos could orgasm, Yamato would have been jizz.
"You know, 'Chi, you totally have what it takes to be a pretty boy bottom." Yamato moved his finger along Taichi's naked thigh and up the never-ageing lines of his face.
Taichi yawned enormously and rubbed his eyes. He was the type that falls asleep right after sex. "Cheers, mate. I can get used to it."
"To be a bottom it's not enough to just enjoy getting a piece inside your anus, though. You have to really want having it all going all the way up into your rectum."
There was some sort of attempted protest which turned into an attempted laugher the moment Taichi realised Yamato was taking the piss that got swallowed up in Taichi's slobbering over Yamato's shoulder.
"But you're a cute little bottom with a cute little bottom. Not so little now, though."
He shifted his body around and rubbed Taichi's tummy as if he expected to get a baby inside him. "Speaking of, how does the cute little bottom feel?"
"It'll be better when you stop saying 'cute little bottom'."
Taichi dropped off Yamato's thighs and they tried moving around on Yamato's metre X metre jacket so they won't plunge their naked bollocks into the dead grass and dirt. Yamato ended up employing Taichi's precious booty as a pillow.
"Damn, your fat arse really is cushion-y."
"Told ya so." Taichi put a cartoonish grin on while Yamato appreciated that cute, fat arse to the extreme. It had nice curves. Yamato had to be deprived of it momentarily, though, when Taichi announced "safety!" and shook Yamato off just in time for a little "pook" sound to come out of Taichi.
"Sorry, 'Mato," Taichi said while waving away the sulphate odours.
"Nuh. At least you didn't Dutch-oven me this time."
There was definitely something to be said for Taichi's bodily aptitude. When they got up, he still managed to walk straight despite the pretty hardcore fucking he just received. Yamato slipped a protective arm around him and pulled Taichi closer. "Good thing football season is over. You would have had a hard time running and kicking after this."