First published on AO3 under KitCatKandy.
"Tell me what you want, Haru-chan," Makoto said, his voice soft, gentle, firm, barely a whisper over the rushing in Haru's ears, as he reached towards him with an undercut, barely-leashed hunger that was almost well-hidden. A violent flush spread across Haru's face, and he shot to his feet, taking an uncertain, stumbling step backwards. Backwards, towards the door, towards light, towards freedom – away from the tall dark figure he once thought he had known so well. The erratic, quickening 'lub-dub' of his heart beat a strong and fast rhythm in his chest, and it seemed that he could not hear anything else beyond the roaring, the rushing of the blood in his ears. But even the small movement made him whimper, as the shifting of his legs rubbed against the delicate skin of his cock, already half-hard. He covered himself with his hands – the blotchy flush across the bridge of his nose deepened - and he turned to run from the darkened room.
A well-muscled arm curved around his midriff, and Haru hissed at how even the light, barely-there touch from his childhood friend inflamed his crotch even further. He had only felt like this once before - when he had gone beach swimming in the middle of the night and had almost drowned in the throes of a sudden, violent tropical storm - a slow, creeping chill down his spine, down his throat, down his abdomen all the way down to his crotch.
Haru still remembered the water, the violent waves thrashing and churning around him, the water which he both loved and feared. But Makoto had been there then, had been there when he had almost drowned. Had pulled him barely-conscious out of the churning waters, himself hanging on to consciousness by a string. He had been a warm, strong presence, drawing Haru back from death's door and back into the light. He had called out to the smaller man, called out to him in the latter's deathly slumber, and that had been the only time Haru had heard such pain and desperation in his voice. It had been what had called Haru back from the line between life and death – he had felt the tender waves of sleep overwhelming him, cajoling him back into slumber, a state from which he would never again awaken, but Makoto's voice had forced open the shutter that had been closing down on his mind. It had yanked him forcefully back onto the threshold of life, had pulled him from the steady, immovable grip of the waves of death. Yes, Makoto had been a balm to the turmoil in his mind then, but now, as Haru gazed upon the ever-present gentle smile, the cold iron resolve in his green eyes, he felt the same fear and ecstasy he had felt while being tossed around helplessly in the storm-stirred waves of the sea.
His erection was now too painful to bear silently, and he let out an involuntary whimper. The one sound echoed painfully loud in the heavy silence, and he felt Makoto's arm tighten around his waist. "Haru-chan," Makoto murmured, his mouth going to Haru's ear – the latter shuddered at the warmth of his breath, the huskiness of his voice, the moisture on his lips – "Haru-chan, is there anything I can do to help?"
His other hand, the one not currently entwined around Haru's waist, went instead to his hip, tracing light, gentle circles which did nothing to ease Haru's discomfort. The tantalisingly-soft touch was torture to his erection, teasing him as though there was all the time in the world. Haru considered running – he didn't think Makoto would actually chase after him, all the way to his home. Then he remembered the unfamiliar flash of lust he had seen in Makoto's eyes earlier, the way his eyes had darkened with a haze of desire before he had smiled his usual gentle smile. even then the smile had been predatory, calculating, and he had shuddered at its strangeness and wondered who this man was. Haru realised he was now in unfamiliar territory, stuck in a room with a Makoto who was capable of anything.
Anyway, the throb between his thighs reminded him that he was in no state to be running anywhere.
"Where does it hurt?" Makoto said, and his voice was naïve, painfully innocent, as the hand on Haru's hip traced circles closer and ever closer to his crotch. There was a split-second when his fingers brushed casually over the underside of Haru's cock, a touch so light it appeared to be accidental, but even the slight contact made Haru jerk and cry out with pleasure. He felt Makoto smile into his neck, and he shivered – from fear or arousal, he no longer knew which.
There was a painful throb in his asshole which he knew well. An insistent, pervasive feeling which he knew from the few times he had touched himself, curiously at first, then when electricity had been thrumming through his every vein and he had been deliriously, religiously stroking his cock, he had licked his finger, and forced it into the tiny nub between his cheeks. The pain coupled with the intense volt of pleasure that brought him had sent him into a screaming orgasm, at which time he had been thankful – very thankful – that he lived alone.
Now, he remembered the orgasm, remembered how the last thought in his mind before he dozed off was how terribly scandalised Makoto would be if he knew Haru had masturbated with his asshole. Now, he felt the insistent, restless call of his cock, already straining the fabric of his pants, and he cast caution to the winds. He forgot that, behind him, stood a man he had been afraid of only a few seconds ago – a man whose desires he no longer knew, or cared to know. He only remembered that standing behind him was Makoto – Makoto of the gentle smile which sometimes did not reach his eyes, Makoto, who went out of his way always to please others, Makoto – who always put Haru first. Haru remembered this, remembered how the touch of his childhood friend had inflamed him so, and he turned tear-stained blue eyes to the man behind him.
"I - I want you to fuck me," he said, plainly, no frills, no hesitation. There was no surprise in Makoto's eyes, just a quiet appraisal which disappeared at Haru's words. Haru himself was a little unnerved – at other times, when he had said that word, Makoto had blushed and stammered and ineffectually tried to scold him for dropping the f-bomb. So, there was a side of Makoto he didn't know, a dark, sensual side, and the thought sent a thrill of unwilling excitement through him.
Then they were all over each other, Makoto's tongue in his mouth, sucking, licking, stroking. Haru gripped his biceps and bit down hard on the other's lips – Makoto gave a short, sharp sigh of pleasure, and pressed him violently against the wall. There was a loud clatter as Haru's belt fell to the floor, along with his pants, and he was left standing only in his swimwear, which strained at the dark mound of his erection. Makoto's hand went to it, stroking the underside, pressing at the tip, pinching the hard rod until Haru cried out shakily.
"Don't, just – take it out, take it off - " he mewled, no longer caring about his words, which came out in a long stream, garbled and incoherent in their desperation. "Makoto - " he cried, and the other man smiled. There was a glint of sharp teeth, and Haru recoiled suddenly, momentarily recalled from his arousal – he was reminded, again, that he did not know this man, this predator he was shortly going to have sex with. That thought should have thrown him into a panic, the thought that he did not know Makoto – but instead he saw the familiar green eyes and all else disappeared.
There was a soft 'pop' as Makoto peeled off his swimming trunks and released his cock from its bindings. It was already fully-erect, thick and rigid, with a bead of pre-cum oozing from its head, and Haru saw Makoto's eyes glitter before he squatted down and took the entire length in his mouth.
"Ah - !" Haru arched backwards in a silent scream of pleasure. Makoto's mouth was hot and wet, and as he sucked and licked and stroked, the pressure on his cock was almost too much to bear. "Makoto - !" On the edge of cumming, he felt a hand close around the base of his dick like a vise. Panting, he looked down to meet the smiling eyes of his partner.
"If you come now, it's all over," the other man whispered. His voice was dark and husky, and it sent a dangerous thrill down Haru's spine. "Is that what you want – Haru-chan?"
Haru waited barely a split second before he shook his head, timidly at first, then resolutely. "I want… to come… when you're in me," he gasped, the words slurred, incoherent, and he winced at the brilliance of Makoto's smile. Haru felt gentle arms sliding under his trembling legs, under the hard tense skin of his back, and he was lifted bodily from his standing position. He closed his eyes, feeling the tension in his crotch ease slightly as he felt the familiar thudding rhythm of Makoto's feet as he walked to his room. There was a quiet creak as Haru was placed gently on the clean striped bedsheets of Makoto's bed, and the taller man leaned over him.
Haru stared into Makoto's green eyes, and Makoto stared into his, and suddenly they were kissing again, the only sound in the room that of his heavy breathing and the 'schlick' of Haru's cock against Makoto's hand. They broke away, gasping for air, panting in the silent electric tension in the room.
"Your clothes," Haru murmured, his fingers tearing feverishly but ineffectually at his partner's orange shirt. Makoto made a mumbled noise of assent, yanking the offending piece of clothing off so quickly that there was a quiet rending sound at the collar. His belt and pants soon followed, and now both of them were clothed only in their birthday suit. Haru could feel the evidence of Makoto's arousal burning a hole into his inner thigh, and he sucked in a breath at the sensation of the other's thick, bunched abdominal muscles brushing tantalisingly against his own erection.
Haru flushed as he met Makoto's eyes, darkened and clouded over with a haze of desire. There was no gentleness in those green eyes now, only pure feral hunger and desire. Fearful anticipation thrummed through Haru's skin, down his spine, to his core - then Makoto buried his face in Haru's shoulder, sucking at the pale, tender flesh, licking and teasing with his canines until the skin turned an indignant pink. "Haru," he growled, low and vibrant and forceful, "Open your legs wider." There was no hint of embarrassment, no hint of hesitation, only a clear, incisive order which made Haru blanch, and immediately part his legs.
Two long fingers were proffered to him, and he obediently took them into his mouth and sucked, hard, coating them liberally with a layer of saliva. He heard Makoto exhale next to him, and the breaths came short and ragged. The two fingers were pulled from his mouth with a soft pop, and trailed down the sharp lines of his abdomen, down the tantalising heat between his legs, and into the cleft between his cheeks. He felt the insistent push of Makoto's forefinger against his asshole, and forced himself to relax. The first finger slipped in easily, and was quickly accompanied by its partner after a few cursory strokes. Haru drew in a sharp breath of pain as the two fingers penetrated him and started moving, slowly at first, then quicker – he had never had more than one finger in him in all his experiments before.
There was a sudden quick push as Makoto drove his long fingers in, deep, deeper, and as he crooked his fingers slightly they brushed against the bundle of nerves within him that made Haru jerk up with a suppressed scream. He heard Makoto chuckle darkly against the flesh of his shoulder, on which he was still lavishing the full attention of his lips and tongue.
"Makoto, t-that's enough, please, please just… please just fuck me already," Haru panted, his words slurring even more, his vision blurring and his fingers trembling. Makoto drew himself up, rearing magnificently over the smaller man - and for a moment Haru froze at the sheer beauty of his childhood friend's body. Chiselled abdominals, strong, thick, bunching cords of muscle of his deltoids, the harsh curving line of his biceps and triceps adorned his dark, tanned flesh. All of which he had seen before in their swimming escapades, but he had never before thought that they were beautiful. Well, now the very sight of those beautiful pectorals was going straight down to his cock.
"Remember, Haru, you asked me to do this for you," Makoto purred, his voice teasing, his eyes liquid and half-mast. He heard a faint crackle of foil, a smooth sliding sound of latex over slick, sweaty skin. Haru felt the fingers leave him, and for a moment he felt painfully empty, but then the gentle, forceful pressure of Makoto's erection pressing at his asshole overwhelmed all his other senses. Now he felt only the insistent buzzing in his ears, the thud of his heart going at a hundred miles an hour, and the heavy breathing from the man readying himself between his thighs.
There was a sharp pinch that flared in his abdomen as Makoto pushed, but Haru bit down on his lip and suppressed the whine that he had almost let past his lips. He felt the walls of his passage widen to accommodate the foreign presence, and it was a strange sensation, to feel a hot thick weight pushing inside him. Finally, the pressure became too great, and he let out a sharp, desperate mewl of pain as Makoto pushed in.
Suddenly, then, there were fingers clasping at his hand, tightening their grasp, lips kissing the thin sensitive skin of his neck, fingers playing at the reddened nubs that were his nipples. Haru bucked and sobbed alternately as the skilled fingers on his chest stroked, pinched, teased, sending ripples of illicit pleasure all over his body. He felt a hot, wet mouth seal over his own, and he accepted its comfort gratefully, tangling tongues with Makoto. It was a desperate, cruel fight for dominance, and he felt both their breaths coming short and unsteady.
He had not even realised that Makoto had pushed all the way in, had almost forgotten the insistent pressure down below, but now he almost bit his tongue as he felt the pain-pleasure flood him again. Makoto placed both hands beside his body and braced himself against the bed, his lips still feverishly kissing and suckling at Haru's own. Haru's eyes were closed, squeezed tightly shut, and the lack of sight, the lack of visual awareness only heightened his pleasure. He could feel every twinge in his prostate as Makoto's cock rubbed against that magic bundle of nerves, hear every strained breath Makoto took, feel every rough callus on Makoto's hand as he caressed Haru's cock. The brunette was now thrusting deeper and deeper, growing harder and harder, and Haru shook his head, thrashing blindly as the growing stimulation stoked a hidden fire in his chest. He was at the edge already, felt so amazingly-full, and he reached out desperately towards the peak that was so near, yet so far – so close to the amazing, soaring high he would reach with just a little more stimulation –
Then Makoto leaned down, and bit, hard, on the soft flesh of his shoulder.
Haru came with a resounding shriek, convulsing and twisting frantically in Makoto's arms even as Makoto buried his face in Haru's chest and moaned, a pure primitive expression of satisfaction and satiation. He felt his partner's shaft throbbing thick and fast in him as he came, and then – blackness, and no more.
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