Enjoy the sin (apologies in advance: this chapter might offend some people who don't enjoy jealous!Makoto, idk if it's OOC though whoops)

Haru couldn't take it any longer.

Slowly but surely, he had been feeling the insidious tendrils of Makoto's darkness stretching over him, consuming him, until the time they spent together was poisonous. He admitted freely that Makoto's dominance and aggression weren't wholly unwelcome. After all, that side of him provided a refreshing variance to their… sessions in bed -

- because he still didn't know what to call their nightly activities; booty calls? Casual hook-ups? The word lovemaking didn't fit, not quite yet, seeing as how the only person in actual fucking love was –

- provided a sense of suspense, of not knowing what would come next. Of not knowing if whether when they next touched each other, it would be a gentle, slow act with plenty of foreplay and stroking and preparation, or if it would be a hard, fast, desperate fight for dominance and subjugation. With the former, Haru always felt like he was the one in charge, like Makoto's lips and Makoto's hands would just stop the moment he said "No". But with the latter… in that primitive tussle of wills, Makoto always came out on top (literally), with his tongue doing things which should have been illegal, with his fingers touching places which should never had been touched, and Haru would just submit with a faint whimper of pleasure.

This spiced up things between them, making their fucks unpredictable, incalculable. Haru thought he was starting to see a pattern between the different sides of Makoto which would show at different times – when he asked for it, Makoto would give it to him slow and easy, gentle and attentive, but when Makoto pulled on his arm and that particular curious gleam came into his eyes, that was when he knew he was going to be sore for days afterwards.

But he was having trouble reconciling this Makoto with the tender, almost puppy-like figure from his childhood. He had trouble seeing how Makoto, the Makoto who had given up the dolphin keychain he had wanted just so he could have it, the Makoto who had quit the Iwatobi Swimming Club for him, the Makoto who pulled him out of his bath every morning so he wouldn't drown in lukewarm bath water – he just couldn't see how that Makoto, the person he had known all his life, could do all these things, and with the same, gentle tone of voice, ask him to "beg for it".

Because that was what he did, and that was one of the reasons why Haru couldn't exactly give a name to what they were doing, why his orgasms always came with a creeping unease on the side, why he lay awake watching Makoto sleep after they both came. Sometimes it wouldn't be so bad. Sometimes, all Makoto did was tease him a little, stroke him through his pants or lick him through his jammers, asking him "Where do you want me to touch?" or "Haru-chan, what do you want me to do?"

But other times…

"Haru, you feeling good?" Makoto asked, as he drove into Haru from behind with a particularly-violent thrust. Haru hissed through his teeth, throwing his head backwards and mewling slightly as Makoto stroked his erect cock in tandem with the movement.

He could hear Makoto's laboured breathing, the heavy thud of his heart against his back, but it didn't seem to make a difference. Makoto's voice was as calm, as light as ever, as he spoke against Haru's ear, ghosting over the tender spot with a warm breath that made him shudder.

"I don't think that girl today would have made you feel as good, hmm?" The words were coupled with a low rumble that could only have been laughter, a low growl that reverberated through Haru's body. He froze, remembering the girl in question – a light-haired, light-skinned girl who had, inexplicably, confessed to him, of all people, earlier that day at lunch break. He had rejected her, of course, (and it had been quick – Makoto had been waiting) and explained quite expressionlessly that he hadn't been looking for a relationship, but he hadn't quite known how to deal with the tears.

"What does… What does she have to do – with – anything," Haru panted, his words coming in stilted, slurred bursts, as Makoto gripped him by his waist and drove relentlessly into him. He could feel his orgasm coming, could feel the giddiness in his head that heralded a much-welcomed release, and he did not want to think of a girl while he came, he wanted to think only of Makoto's strong hands at his hips, to feel only Makoto throbbing heatedly inside him, to touch only Makoto's taut skin while his body exploded into tendrils of flame –

"Well, she looked like she wanted to jump into bed with you," Makoto continued, as if they were having a casual conversation in front of the school dining hall, not fucking on top of a table. "Did you want to do it with her? She didn't look like she would have been good enough for you, though, not with your body, not with your tastes -" Here he thrust in low and smooth, rubbing against Haru's prostate and making him shake his head blindly about with the overwhelming pleasure. "She wouldn't know where to touch you. Where to touch you so you'd see stars. Where to kiss you so you'd come until - you - were - dry." He punctuated each last word with a fast, deep thrust which jerked Haru against the hard teak wood.

Haru gasped, feeling the grain of the wood rub against his tender stomach, and reached out with his right hand to jerk his cock, feeling his climax near. His fingers barely brushed against the inflamed skin before it was grasped and yanked harshly behind his back.

"No touching," Makoto breathed into his neck, and there was something ugly, distorted in his voice which made Haru's skin tingle with a feeling which was not wholly unpleasant. The low animal roughness in his voice, usually so soft and meek, made Haru emit a muffled groan and rut vigorously against the table leg in a desperate bid for release. In answer to that, Makoto lifted him bodily off the ground and supported him using only his arms. Haru bit his lips to suppress the scream of pleasure that came from the sudden depth of the next thrust, when he was pulled back down onto Makoto's shaft.

They fucked more roughly after that, Makoto doing most of the moving, Haru clinging tightly onto his arms and arching his back with the intense pleasure streaking through him. Meanwhile, Makoto whispered words into his ear, the words slurring, mixing with the harsh pants of his breath until they were almost unintelligible. But Haru could still hear some of the muffled syllables, incoherent and disjointed as they were. Makoto was still talking about the girl, talking about how she'd always been watching him in class (he'd never noticed), how she probably wished she could be here, now, on this table, being fucked by Haru – oh, wait, he was the one being fucked, and wouldn't she be scandalised if she knew?

Haru bucked and whined as he felt his orgasm approaching, but now it was tinged with an approaching sense of fury. How dare Makoto think about another person other than him, how dare he bring up some girl Haru didn't even know properly, all while they were having sex together? As Makoto's breathing intensified and the words spilled faster, more deliriously, Haru twisted his neck and forced his lips over Makoto's, effectively stemming his flow of speech. In the split second before he closed his eyes, he saw Makoto's widen, and his pupils dilate, but then once again their tongues were clashing for dominance, for entry, and Haru cried out into Makoto's mouth as they both came.

A few seconds passed as they both stayed still, puffing and panting for breath, then Makoto slowly and carefully lowered him back onto the ground, staggering a little from the strain on his knees. Makoto is strong, Haru thought dazedly, he himself feeling a touch light-headed – then he remembered the things Makoto had been feverishly whispering into his ears, the cruel taunting words which had so inflamed him, and his brow darkened.

Makoto sensed the change in him quickly, whipping his head around to stare questioningly at him. Haru pre-empted his inevitable question with a glare of utter disdain, before stomping off to the bathroom and locking the door.

He could hear Makoto banging on the door with increased anxiety. "Haru!" he called, his voice a little shaky, but still steady. "Haru! What's wrong? Did I hurt you?"

Typical Makoto, Haru thought bitterly, filling the bath and watching the water level creep steadily up the clean white enamel of the tub. It was strangely calming, in a way, watching the water flow rhythmically from the tap and hearing the endless splash of the stream as it thundered into the bathtub. He lowered himself into it, sighing in pure ecstasy as he felt the warm water caress his skin and wash over the abrasions on his neck.

He could still hear Makoto's increasingly-frantic knocks on the door. With a sigh that shook his slight frame, he got out of the bath and went to the door, opening it with a smooth, fluid movement.

"It wasn't locked," he lied, unemotionally, remembering how Makoto hadn't even once tried the lock. He looked at Makoto's body, refusing to meet the look of concern in his green eyes, then suddenly realised that - he wasn't dressed. Haru saw the slick trail of cum twisting its way down Makoto's inner thigh, the slight sheen of sweat on his muscular body, and the dark red marks on his palms where he had dug his fingernails deep in his anxiety to get the door open.

Makoto immediately turned into a blushing mess at Haru's searching glance over his body, his hands going to cover his crotch. "I – I wouldn't like to go in without Haru's consent," he said, stammering, switching erratically between formal and informal speech. "I – I mean, if Haru didn't want to let me in I wouldn't have – I wouldn't have - "

Haru cut off the flow of speech with a shake of his head and a gesture of his hand for the other man to enter. He could already feel his face softening at the characteristic awkwardness of his childhood friend, the way he always bumbled and hesitated when it came to his and Haru's conflicting interests. Suddenly this reminded Haru again of the fact that Makoto would never – would never – put his own desires before Haru's, would never do something that Haru didn't want, would never make decisions without consulting Haru first.

And didn't that mean that all his actions from before, the domination and the aggression and the hard fucking against the wall, were all things that Haru, he himself, wanted?

I'M SORRY I SWEAR on a side note, hit me up on tumblr at kitcatkandy, I want to get to know y'all :D