He moved everything to the coffee table in front of the couch, and that was where Haru joined him once he was fully clothed. Makoto should have changed his own clothes, as they were still damp and full of sand, but he kept forgetting about it on account of suddenly being entirely distracted by everything about Haru, so he didn't bother, and they made themselves comfortable on the cushions and tucked into the meal.

Makoto watched Haru tentatively as he ate the first few bites in silence. He tried a little bit of everything, took his time chewing and swallowing and taking a few sips of water before he even turned his blue eyes back over to Makoto's waiting gaze.

He smiled again. And every time he did that now, Makoto felt a tiny part of his soul leave his body — though weirdly it was a rather blissful feeling.

"You don't have to look so worried about it. It's good."

"Is it?"

He nodded. "Yeah."

"You're not just saying that?"

He shook his head and took another bite to prove it. Makoto breathed out in relief once he accepted that Haru wasn't lying, and they both ate quietly for a while.

The storm was still loud outside, but Makoto found that the rumbles of thunder and drumming of the rain were growing steadily muffled underneath the warmth of returning safety and comfort and familiarity.

Haru was home again, and he was okay. He was a merman, and that was a lot to take in, but he was okay, and Makoto was more than fine with that. Haru liked the food that he'd made for him, and he hadn't complained about or judged him for all the sentiment he'd put into his presentation, and that was relieving.

It was a nice meal, and a nice moment in which to be sharing the meal, even though neither of them said much of anything until their plates were empty, but Makoto was just fine with that too.

"Thank you," Haru mumbled, setting his last empty dish to the side. His expression was much more subdued now when he looked back across the couch. "No one's ever … I mean. I only really ever had my grandmother until …" He exhaled and dropped his gaze away. "So no one's ever done anything like this for me."

Makoto felt himself smiling softly. "I kind of figured that was the case." He shrugged and rubbed his hands together in his lap. "You've done so much. I thought it might be nice to have someone do something for you, you know?"

Haru pulled in a long breath, and clearly he didn't want to admit it, but he nodded very faintly and responded with, "It is." He brushed a hand over his arm, eyes glancing back up sheepishly, and added, "I appreciate it."

Makoto allowed his smile to grow in full and sat up straight, palms on his knees. He nodded once. "You're welcome, Haru. I'm glad you enjoyed it."

Haru contemplated him for a good long moment before he turned with one knee up on the cushions, squaring his shoulders in Makoto's direction. Makoto automatically copied him.

"Makoto …" He grabbed at his own ankle, absently kneading at it with his fingers, eyes bouncing around. This time there were a lot of things to read in his eyes, but they were so muddled together Makoto didn't venture to try just yet.

"Why …" Haru sighed and squinted back up. "Why did you come looking for me — in the storm? Weren't you scared?"

Makoto nodded. There was no reason to hide it. "I was terrified. But …" He shrugged. "It was scarier thinking that something might have happened to you."

Haru blinked at him with a look of wonder to his eyes, shoulders dropping. He opened his mouth, stopped, then closed it again.

Makoto smiled. "Also. I kind of got this … feeling — like there was something out in the ocean trying to get my attention. And when I followed it, that's when I found you." He chuckled softly. "Ah. I guess that's what you meant by the sea 'insisting' on things, huh?"

It looked like admiration, whatever crossed Haru's gaze then, and he nodded faintly. "Yeah. That's pretty much it. I didn't think a human would be able to hear it the same way."

"Ah." He rubbed at the back of his neck. "When you put it that way, it is kind of bizarre, isn't it? Can't say I've ever experienced that before really. It was weird — like an out of body experience. I mean, I had no idea what was going on. I just felt like if I listened then it would lead me to you somehow, and I hated the idea of you being out in the storm so …" He shrugged again.

It was even softer somehow, the way Haru gazed at him now, and Makoto didn't know how to react to the shine in his eyes. It very quickly turned alarming though, when Haru suddenly grimaced and looked down in his lap with a breathless, "I'm sorry."

Makoto's jerk reaction was to lean in closer and catch his shoulder with his hand, lowering his head to stay level with Haru's.

"For what?"

Haru shook his head. "I don't … I don't deserve all of this."

"What do you mean?" He subconsciously moved his touch, this time picking up Haru's chin with his fingers to interrupt the wave of remorse that had so suddenly descended upon him. "Haru, of course you do. You're as deserving as anyone else is — more than, I would argue. Why would you think that?"

"I don't want anything to happen to you," he burst, as though the words had been sitting behind his lips for a long time, waiting to come out. And as much as Haru was a very straight-forward and unfiltered kind of person, Makoto was taken aback by the amount of honesty in such a statement, most especially with the extra bit of shine in Haru's eyes.

Makoto's thumb brushed over his cheek on its own. "I'm fine," he said, offering a tender smile. "I'm more than fine, Haru. You don't have to worry about anything like that."

Even as he said it though, he knew it would be of no use, because if what Haru was saying was anything like how Makoto felt, then there was just simply no way to quell that growing anxiety, that uneasiness, the ache inside of a fast-drying cement. The closeness, the attachment that Makoto had to Haru was like nothing he'd ever be able to describe with words, and the mere thought of not being with him or near him, or of something somehow getting between them was now unfathomable.

"You've been through so much though," Haru said, gaze freely searching Makoto's now that they were hovering so close. "I don't … I don't want you to have to go through anything else. I don't want to put you through that. I don't want you to be scared, or … or hurt."

Makoto huffed out a flattered breath. "Haru —"

Whatever else he'd been about to say, he forgot immediately, because it was snatched away from his lips by the pressing touch of Haru's instead.

His heart entirely stopped beating while he blinked rapidly, trying to download and compute this information. But when Haru pulled back just enough to breathe his name, every sinew in his being melted, and he leaned into the second kiss to meet Haru halfway.

This one was built with parted lips and some kind of intention, so it was more than just a stunned moment of mouths meeting uncertainly. He reinforced his hold under Haru's jaw and kissed him deeply, pulse starting up again in a flurry.

Absolutely nothing crossed his mind after that, at least not anything cohesive or any more basic than simple want. The buzz of longing bubbled through his veins almost immediately, burning his skin with the most intensely pleasant heat. He breathed against Haru's lips, and Haru licked it up with his tongue, sending a thrilling shiver down his spine. His fingers slid back, briefly cupping Haru's neck before running up into his hair, and his body did its best to lean even farther forward, which was made easier by the grip that Haru found on the chest of his shirt, pulling him closer.

Haru smelled like the sea and tasted like salt, and it was somehow the most mouthwatering sensation Makoto had ever come across. He couldn't get close enough to it, couldn't breathe it in deeply enough, couldn't get enough of the taste. He was immediately addicted, immediately at its mercy — at his mercy. And so he didn't notice when his leaning turned into him crawling over Haru's body, pressing his other palm into the cushions while Haru rested weightlessly back against the arm of the couch, grip even tighter on Makoto's shirt. His knee brushed up against the inside of Makoto's thigh, and he shivered again, reacting with a deep pull of his tongue.

Cool fingers touched the skin of his back under his shirt, and he welcomed the sensation gratefully with a soft moan. Haru's hands raked up his spine, his touch light and electrifying. Makoto allowed his hips to settle, resting against Haru to relieve his arms of the weight, and his own hand ventured to Haru's waist, the way it had wanted to only moments ago — only now with far more confidence than it might have grabbed him before. His body was somehow both firm and amazingly supple. Tangible, whole, solid, existing, but also soft, malleable, and willing — and that was just as addicting.

Haru's teeth very lightly bit down on his bottom lip and it riddled his skin with goosebumps. He sighed, heavily, as though he'd never breathed before in his life, and that felt accurate, but it was also reminiscent of a weight being lifted off of his back. He nipped at Haru in return, and received a light scratch down his back. His spine stretched against the tickling pleasure and it automatically dragged his hips up, which wracked his whole body with shivers.

Haru's knee nudged him more intentionally, and another moan left his throat.

"You're hard," Haru announced.

Makoto broke away immediately, face entirely red as he hid in the crook of Haru's neck. "You don't have to say it out loud," he scolded.

He could feel the smirk on Haru's lips. "Why does that embarrass you?"

"Why doesn't it embarrass you?"

"Mating is a reflex of every living thing in existence. It's natural."

Makoto coiled. "Mating?"

"Does that word bother you?"

"We're not animals!"

"Yes we are. More complex and stubborn than most species, but animals nonetheless. Is 'fucking' better?"

He groaned, burying his nose into Haru's collar with a muffled, "No."

"I don't understand humans at all," Haru sighed. "This is what happens when you're raised under social constructs and have to abide by things like civility."

"There's nothing wrong with it."

"Except that it teaches you to feel shame for something as biological and inevitable as sex."

Makoto exhaled and then picked his head up, gazing down at Haru who cocked his head and gazed right back, expression completely unbothered. Makoto wasn't going to admit to being captivated, but it was harder not to split a grin.

Haru pushed himself up onto his elbows. "Admit it."

Makoto pursed his lips. "Fine. You might have a point."

"I do have a point."

"You don't have to brag about it."

"Then I have a request, but you can't be embarrassed when I make it."

Makoto squinted, trying to anticipate it before even bothering to ask. "What is it?"

Haru pushed himself up further, ensuring there was nothing but a centimeter's worth of space between their noses, and Makoto's pulse took off. They breathed in the same space, lips hovering but not touching, and Haru whispered, "Bring me to the bedroom."

He trembled — under the tremor of pleasure and the way Haru's words brushed across his skin. He wasn't embarrassed, but it did light a fire that burned good.

"Hold onto something," was his response.