Late update, I'm not dead, just swamped by work T.T will still try to update weekly but no promises. IT'S TIME FOR SOME SMUT (?), YAY

The moment Haru stepped into the living room, he felt Makoto's hands move in and pin him to the wall. His mouth closed over Haru's, their lips pressing together in an open-mouthed fight for dominance, and Haru could already feel himself losing. This Makoto was different, different from the Makoto of the past few weeks, who had been all shy, bumbling uncertainty and careful, gentle touches. This was the Makoto of their first time together – of Haru's very first time with another – the hungry, aggressive beast whose hunger was barely-leashed.

This Makoto frightened him, he had to admit; frightened him with the dangerous belligerence and assertion he hid under that calm exterior. But at the same time he sensed the Makoto he thought he knew so well, felt that Makoto in the way the other man was careful not to dig his nails in too deep or bang him too hard against the wall. Makoto still treated him like a glass doll, but now it was less about his innate fragility, and more about being careful – possessive, something wicked within Haru whispered - with something one treasured.

And yet at the same time Makoto's aggression turned him on, pressed buttons he never knew he had. He had always sensed something repressed, something held back, beneath Makoto's gentle façade, but he just hadn't expected something of this magnitude, something so… primitive. He had no idea what had triggered Makoto's self-assurance, what had made him make the first move, but he had no time to think further, for Makoto was now pressing against him with something very real and very hard.

"Tell me what you want me to do, Haru-chan, I won't know if you don't tell me," he drawled, and there was a smile on his face, a smile almost a cross between a leer and a grimace. Haru felt the teasing pressure of fingers at his nipples, pressing and pinching until the sensitive, inflamed flesh peaked and turned an outraged shade of red. He glared at Makoto, wondering how he could even ask, how he could even think that he could get away with teasing him –

But something in Makoto's face made him stop, the retort he had been about to utter frozen at the edge of his lips. The other man looked painfully vulnerable, and his tongue darted out to lick his lips even as he leered down at Haru.

Haru turned his face away. Somehow, that expression had gotten to him, made him feel guilty and confused, and he didn't like that. He didn't like feeling like someone who kicks puppies.

"I want you to touch me," he mumbled into his sleeve, scowling rebelliously at Makoto through the sweaty bangs falling over his forehead. "Isn't that obvious?"

There was a strange relief, a strange relaxation in the smile which greeted his words, but the expression was still painful to watch, so Haru closed his eyes, willing Makoto to move, to do something, to do anything. He stifled a gasp as the man acquiesced and grunted impatiently, stripping off their pants with graceful, fluid movements.

Haru struggled with the band of his jammers, trying unsuccessfully to pull it down over the swell of his erection. but already he felt Makoto's rough fingers at the head of his cock, teasing the slit gently through the wet fabric. He stifled a groan against Makoto's broad shoulders, missing the dark flash that streaked across his green eyes.

Apparently tired of teasing, Makoto's other hand slipped the swimsuit off easily, releasing Haru's painfully-engorged cock. He continued stroking, rhythmically, up and down the other's thick length, until Haru choked and shook his head blindly, gripping tighter onto Makoto's arms. "C-Coming," he panted. "Stop…"

This time, Makoto didn't heed the warning, and simply leaned down, engulfing Haru's entire cock in his mouth again. This time, Haru could feel the head of his cock pushing against Makoto's throat, almost down the passage, and he moaned at the constricted, squeezing sensation. Then Makoto looked deep into his eyes, and swallowed, very deliberately and slowly.

Haru ejaculated with several low, sobbing gasps, pumping his seed into Makoto's throat. His left hand dug tight into the roots of his partner's hair, while his other unconsciously sought out Makoto's hand and twined their fingers together. He stayed, bent double, until he had ridden out the full waves of the orgasm, and was almost exhausted from the unrestrained exhilaration.

Makoto gave him no time to recover, however, and immediately two fingers were at his slick, leaking entrance, plunging in with no warning and scissoring almost at the moment of entry. Haru inhaled immediately at the burn in his asshole, as Makoto bent his fingers and stroked that one spot which had him seeing stars. This went on for a few more minutes as Haru felt his cock slowly recover from the first orgasm, and Makoto's fingers kept relentlessly driving him towards that peak from which he had just descended.

Now he was at the edge, at the edge of the cliff, almost falling off but miraculously hanging on by the skin of his teeth. Two fingers weren't enough, not by a long way, and Haru tried to communicate this to Makoto by pulling pathetically at the tight skin on his arm and whimpering ineffectually. Somehow, Makoto got the message, and Haru had barely a few seconds to bemoan the loss of the pressure inside of him before he felt himself being lifted up bodily and pressed against the hard, abrasive wall. Even in the midst of intense, passionate sex, Makoto still took care to cushion him gently against the rough concrete, trying to prevent any wall burn – although, judging by the dark hunger in those green orbs, Haru didn't think he would come out of the encounter entirely unscathed.

Makoto drove upwards and inwards with one long, smooth thrust, and Haru wailed. Wailed like a cat, wailed as he felt the thick length fill him up entirely and went deeper than it had ever gone before. Haru felt the pressure in his throat and felt Makoto muffle a groan against his neck which rumbled through his entire body and made him shiver. He thrust hard, powerfully, pushing Haru repeatedly against the wall, and every time their lips made contact he pressed forward feverishly, like he was a man starved for months and Haru was a banquet on a long table. The sounds of their pleasure echoed loud and desperate in the confines of the empty room, and Haru dug his fingernails into Makoto's broad back, feeling the sweat slide down over his taut, tan skin.

"Makoto," he mewled, "Makoto, please, please just -" He didn't know what he was asking for, nor why he felt so panicked, as he felt the waves of pleasure surging over him over and over again, bringing him closer to the precipice.

Then Makoto hissed, and drove against him in one last spurt, and Haru felt semen flood his insides. The pulsing throb inside him finally pushed him over the edge, and he came with a long, drawn-out moan, releasing his seed all over the pale yellow of his shirt.

They stood together for a few moments, panting and recovering from the last round of intense sex, Makoto still supporting Haru in his arms. Their foreheads rested against each other, and there was nothing to say, nothing to break the uneasy silence before them. For while Haru felt fully satisfied sexually-speaking, he also felt confused and very, very uneasy.

When he could feel his arms again, he released his iron hold on Makoto's biceps and looked up into the other man's eyes, a motion which he had mirrored without even thinking about it. Their eyes met, and Haru was relieved – and, strangely, disappointed – to see that Makoto's eyes had gained back their usual bright, kind shine. He wondered where the dark haze had gone, if it even was truly gone, or if it had simply receded back into wherever it had been hiding.

"Haru-chan, you okay?" Makoto whispered, the tips of his mouth curving up in a smile which was almost heart-breaking in its sweetness. "I'm sorry I was a little rough."

"You were angrier today," Haru said before he could stop himself, but now, horror-stricken at his own candour, he looked up at Makoto through his lashes like a startled doe, waiting for his reaction.

Makoto's eyes widened, a fraction, before a guilty flush spread on his cheeks and he turned his face away. But he didn't shy away or stammer as he would have done usually, and Haru sensed his own pain and confusion mirrored, again, beneath the calm façade of the other man. His eyes were quiet, thinking, and filled with perplexity, as he laid his head gently to rest on Haru's shoulder.

"Was I?" he said, and his voice was tired. "I'm sorry if I hurt you, Haru. I don't know what I was angry at."

Haru's mind flashed back to that brief touch in the locker room with Rin's hand, flashed back to the look in Makoto's eyes when he had seen the touch, but he didn't say anything. He thought he was starting to understand – or perhaps not. Bewilderment and a debilitating weariness thrummed through his body, and he remembered that Makoto was still holding him up.

"Put me down, Makoto, you're tired," Haru murmured, and the other man obediently set him down on his feet. Makoto fetched a wet towel and started bathing his body almost reverently, carefully wiping his abdomen and thighs, although the tips of his ears did turn pink as he navigated the danger zone around Haru's crotch.

Slowly, mindful of Haru's sensitive cock, he pulled up the latter's jammers and helped him buckle his pants. Haru noted the ache in his thighs and his hips, but Makoto's supportive hand helping him walk did dull the pain somewhat.

"Do you want a bath, Haru-chan? I'll run one for you now," Makoto suggested, giving himself a few cursory wipes with the cloth and pulling on his clothes efficiently. The light flush on his cheeks returned as the reality of the illicit affairs they had just engaged in sunk in on him, and signalled a return to the shy, easily-scandalised Makoto, and Haru didn't miss how he tried to avoid eye contact.

Pushing down the creeping disquiet in his chest, Haru tugged on Makoto's sleeve, looking down at his feet. The movement seemed painfully inadequate to express the conflict of emotions within him, but it worked - Makoto stopped walking, glancing down at Haru in barely-disguised surprise. "Haru - " he started, unsure, raising his eyebrows, but Haru cut him to it.

"Get in with me," he mumbled under his breath, the words barely audible, and he felt a light flush further colour his cheeks at his own audacity. They stood there for a bare second which felt like an eternity, and Haru could barely breathe, didn't understand why he had dared to ask Makoto for a moment more of intimacy, didn't understand why he felt like he would shatter if Makoto rejected him, now –

"Yeah, sure, Haru!" He blinked at the sound of Makoto's voice, now definitely chirpier, and looked up to meet the full blinding force of his friend's smile. He was relieved to see that the weariness had disappeared from Makoto's eyes, as well as that other emotion lurking behind in the background, and seeing the unbridled tenderness in every line of his face made Haru relax. Somewhat.

He had a feeling that, no matter how bright Makoto's smile or how cheery his voice was, he would never forget the darkness behind those green eyes as enigmatic and bottomless as the deepest ocean.

Things were changing too fast for Haru to keep up, and he often felt like he was falling, further and further, into an abyss. Slowly, the gentle Makoto he had bedded the first few days had disappeared, replaced instead with the primitive, aggressive Makoto who took him in the locker room, in the bathroom, even in the classroom one day after everyone had already left and Haru had left a textbook under his table. Now, most of the time, he was the one initiating contact, taking Haru's hand and pinning him down with a wordless gaze before leading them both to the nearest deserted corner.

Haru didn't understand it, didn't understand anything at all, but he thought perhaps he was starting to see a pattern. Whenever Rin so much as touched him, even if it was to sling a casual arm around him or touch his nose playfully during joint trainings, he could practically feel a dark curtain descend over training. Often, the source of this tense aura originated from Makoto, but he had managed to tone it down somewhat, so that only Haru felt it whenever it came.

But he always knew he was fucked, in more ways than one, when he felt it descend on him.

Sex with Makoto was often painful now, but also thrumming with a red-hot excitement and exhilaration which had been noticeably absent during the times Makoto had been gentle with him. Haru admitted that he liked the Makoto who showed his domineering, controlling side, because he never hesitated, never blushed, never asked, only took what he wanted and gave it back in double.

But after every session with Makoto, Haru would feel drained. Physically satiated, but mentally and emotionally drained. Seeing Makoto enter his other state was worrying; he couldn't tell what the other was thinking, couldn't see what the other wanted, could only see the possessive, obsessive fire in his green eyes and feel the tight grip the other was maintaining on his arms, as if he feared to let him go. It was a twisted relationship, theirs, and Haru did not enjoy it. Did not enjoy feeling insecurity and confusion bloom up in his chest every time he orgasmed and flopped down on the bed to lie next to Makoto.

What was worse was that he still didn't know what they were to each other. He supposed 'fuck buddies' would be the best way to describe it, but somehow the desperate hunger and want invested in their fucking didn't imply the emotional detachment of such a relationship. Were they lovers? Haru paused for a moment as he considered it. What would being Makoto's lover be like…?

The thought sent a chill down his spine, a feeling that was not wholly unpleasant, and brought a violent flush to his cheeks. No, it was better not to go there, not to think about such things, not when they couldn't be true.

But all the same, Haru found himself thinking about it.

One day, Rin had thoughtlessly groped his ass after training, remarking how tight it had become. He had teased him about "advanced gluteal training" and "butt muscles", and Haru had been so almost-bothered that he had almost missed the hiss that had come from the lips of the man next to him. It was then that he had remembered who had been standing protectively next to him.

Fuck. The word had flashed, unbidden, into his mind, and he had chanced a glance through his lashes up at Makoto, whose eyes were like stone – but then he had seen the taller man make a visible effort to soften his eyes as they stared at each other.

Rin had frozen in the middle of his sentence, open-mouthed, as he met Makoto's eyes. Pure, utter disbelief had flashed across his face as he stared into the man's green orbs, and he had shaken his head as if to get rid of the thoughts within.

"What am I thinking," he had muttered, almost to himself, "Makoto couldn't possibly look like that."

"Like what, Rin?" Makoto had said, his voice teasing, back to normal. His eyes had been crinkled up in a genuine smile, and Haru had reminded himself that Makoto liked Rin, that they had been good friends in elementary school, that they had no particular animosity between them –

So what had been that shadow in his eyes –

Haru hadn't wanted to think about it, and he focused instead on the theatrical way Rin had thrown his hands into the air. "Like, I dunno, a hunter, like a predator, but that's fucking ridiculous. I mean," he had darted a conspiratorial smile in Haru's direction, "can you seriously imagine our dear sweet angel Makoto with a look like that in his eyes?"

Haru had laughed reluctantly, and Makoto had joined in with his own particular brand of embarrassed laughter. The sweet moment among their trio had been lost as they were swept along in Nagisa's overenthusiastic race for the pool with Rei, dragging a highly-annoyed Sousuke along in his wake.

Later, Haru remembered everything that had happened at the poolside, and he bit down harder on Makoto's fingers than he meant to.

"Ow!" Makoto yelped, yanking his fingers out of Haru's mouth and pouting. "Haru, that hurt!"

Haru didn't even have the decency to look sorry. He glared at Makoto, and the words were out of his mouth before he could stop them, blushing at how ridiculous he sounded saying such things while both of them were naked and sitting with erections on the cold hard floor of Haru's room.

"Makoto," he began, "what are we to each other?" He winced at the suddenness of his words, but since the deed had been done, he now looked up into Makoto's surprised eyes - and flinched at the sudden hunger which flashed through them. Hunger, like that of a panther before it pounced on a defenceless deer, like that of an orca before it struck down a stray passing dolphin.

There was a moment's pause, and they stared into each other's eyes. Then Makoto smiled, with a saccharine smile that didn't quite reach his eyes, and said –

"We're best friends, aren't we, Haru-chan?"

Hit me up on tumblr at kitcatkandy, I'd love to get to know y'all :)