When they finally have a moment of freedom, Masaki barely lets his brother get into their room before he crowds Hiroto against the door.

He pushes into his brother's space, arms sliding around to hold him as Masaki settles in close. He tucks his face into the crook of his brother's — his boyfriend's — neck and just — breathes. He takes a few moments to feel Hiroto's warmth, to reassure himself that he's still alive.

Masaki repeats it to himself, a mantra of Hiroto's still alive, he's okay, he's still here starting up. Masaki inhales deeply, nose floors with cinnamon, sandalwood and sweat, everything that is unmistakably Hiroto.

It's intoxicating and Masaki can't stop himself from kissing the soft skin under his lips, can't help it as he slowly makes his way up his boyfriend's neck to suck gently at his pulse point.

Hiroto trembles against him, a whispered "Masaki" falling from his lips but it doesn't sound right, doesn't feel right.

Warning bells echo through his mind as Masaki lifts his head, slowly pulling away just far enough to get a good look at his brother. Hiroto's trembles haven't faded, instead they increase until he's shaking uncontrollably, his eyes mist over, tears struggling to break free as Hiroto chokes out his name again.

His brother looks so open and vulnerable and Masaki feels his heart beak for him and he can't —

He tugs him forward at the same time Hiroto pushes off the door and into him. Masaki holds his boyfriend to his chest, tucking him under his chin as Hiroto breaks down in his arms. His sobs are quiet, always have been. Neither one of them are very good with emotions, their own or those of others but this, this Masaki knows. This Masaki can handle.

Hiroto bottles all his emotions up, usually only letting them show as the anger and frustration he uses for fighting. The harder stuff, deeper emotions, he tries to ignore, tries to hide them away until they pour out of him in waves. This is not always the way they present but it's happened often enough that Masaki can tell what his brother needs. He knows Hiroto is stressed, worn thin from sleepless nights, hurting from the loss of Aniki and after what happened, scared.

They have been in dangerous situations before, nearly all the time and there have been some close calls in the past but this one was too close. Too sudden. It happened in a spot they were supposed to be relatively safe at with people who were supposed to be safe and trustworthy. They'd been caught off guard and Hiroto almost paid the price.

Thank fuck for Saigo. Masaki had never really liked the cop, had heard too many stories about him but he'd never really posed a threat to them. The brothers had always made sure the things they did couldn't be pinned on them. The cops have never gotten any evidence strong enough to stick long enough to even bring them in for questioning. Now though, they owed him for his help.

For saving Hiroto.

For saving all of them.

Masaki cradled his brother closer at the thought.

Hiroto only shook harder in his arms, tears still soaking into Masaki's shirt. Masaki started whispering, the once silent mantra slipping out between the soft kisses he began to place onto Hiroto's hair.

You're still alive. Kiss. You're okay. Kiss. We're both okay. Kiss. Everything is going to be fine. Kiss. You're safe. Kiss. You're alive. Kiss. I'm alive. Kiss. I love you. Kiss. You're okay. Kiss. I'll always protect you. Kiss. You're okay. Kiss. We're safe. Kiss. You're never leaving my side, not like that. Kiss.You're okay. Kiss.You'll be fine soon. Kiss. We're both okay. Kiss. You're safe. Kiss. We're safe. Kiss. I love you…

Masaki kept talking until his voice went hoarse and he was forced to hum instead. Hiroto settled in his arms slowly, tears trickling away until they dried up completely, trembling fading away. They swayed gently from side to side, bodies moving in sync as they comforted each other.

Eventually Hiroto pulled away, straightening up in Masaki's arms though he didn't move away. Masaki cradled his brother's face, thumbs tracing the skin under his eyes in an attempt to wipe away the remains of his tears. Hiroto's hands came up to encase his and then they were kissing.

Masaki kept the kiss gentle and not rushed even as he licked across his boyfriend's lips tasting the salt of his tears and felt the marks left behind from where Hiroto had bitten his lip in effort to keep quiet.

"Aniki —" The word sounded like a plea as it fell from his brother's lips only to be swallowed up between them.

Masaki opened to him willingly, letting Hiroto push into his warmth, letting his tongue sweep across his, letting Hiroto take whatever he needed.

He's not sure how long they spent like that. For them, time doesn't exist right now. All that matters is the hot press of their lips, the wet slide of their tongues, the gentle pressure of teeth biting without intent to cause damage. All he knows is the heat they share, the hard press of Hiroto's body against his and the soft rhythm they've slid into. He's got his hands caressing his boyfriend's skin, fingers sliding everywhere in a parody of their movements from that night.

Except this time no one is around them, there's no need to be careful, no rush in his actions.

Masaki is gentle, slow as he maps out the planes of Hiroto's body again, carefully removing each article of clothing as he guides his brother to their bed. Eventually his lips replace his fingers as Hiroto lays open and pliant across their bed. He traces every inch of his brother's body, leaving marks in the wake of his teeth and tongue. It's not long before Hiroto's panting beneath him, broken words falling unbidden from his lips as his nails dig into Masaki's shoulders.

Masaki keeps going, keeps kissing him, touching everywhere he can reach as he slips lower and lower. Closer and closer to where Hiroto wants him, needs him.

They've done this a hundred times, fast and rough, slow and sweet, in all different positions and Masaki knows what he needs. Knows his boyfriend's body intimately, knows every one of his weak spots where he's more sensitive, knows where to put his hands and how to move them to make Hiroto scream, knows when to push and when to pull. Knows how to get Hiroto to relax enough to slide right in. Knows how to twist his fingers and where to aim to hit that little sweet spot everytime. It's all too easy to get his brother hit and riled up, all too tempting but that's not what he needs.

No, Masaki keeps it soft, keeps it gentle. Takes his time, using his tongue and more lube than necessary to open his brother up slowly.

He lets Hiroto come on his tongue, forces him to slow down on his fingers even as he takes him in his mouth for the second one. He holds him through the aftershocks of both even as he begs for more because it's not enough. It's never enough.

And finally, when he's sure Hiroto can't think of anything but him, can't even remember his own name let alone how close he came to dying, he fucks into him slowly, rocks them together until it's too much and they're both spilling over. And then he slips out to clean them up, returning to bed to tuck Hiroto into his arms again.

And they just — breathe, settled against each other contentedly, reassured that they're both — that Hiroto — are okay. That everything is fine.

"Aniki," Hiroto whispers the words into his chest, so quiet Masaki can barely hear, "I love you."

Masaki hums gently before kissing the top of his boyfriend's head, "I love you too, Hiroto."