Haru curled his arms around his neck, and Makoto scooped him up under his thighs and stood from the couch, bearing his weight with ease and carrying him to the bedroom without bothering to scan his surroundings on the way there. He was familiar with the cottage and everything in it by now, every table, shelf, corner, doorway, and jutting piece of furniture. He could find his way around with his eyes closed. Instead, he kept his gaze on Haru, who kept his gaze on him, and they were letting the cushion of the mattress and pillows catch them in no time.

They stole a few kisses, relaxing into the adjustment, growing evermore comfortable with touching, with understanding that they were well past the point of being strangers thrown together in a situation that they had never prepared for. They had passed that point weeks ago, passed maybe even the point of friendship well before this moment, and they definitely weren't just bunkmates anymore. They were sharing this space, not only willingly, but gladly, desperately even, with want and intent — vulnerably, but trusting.

"I have to admit something," Haru murmured in the midst of a few more kisses.

"Hm?"

He pulled back and dropped his head against the pillow, gazing up at Makoto who was back to hovering over him. "My grandmother explained how it works between humans, but … the example she used was a male-female situation, so I don't know how this works."

Makoto pursed his lips — and it was for the sole purpose of holding back a giggle. Haru on his own was an oddly endearing person, even though his social skills weren't up to par — probably because his social skills weren't up to par. But this rather innocent statement, Makoto found especially cute, and he really didn't want to put Haru off by saying so out loud.

"I see," he said, working really hard to keep his voice even. He decided smiling was safe though, and gave Haru a peck on the forehead. "Well, you're in luck, I guess. I do know how 'this' works."

There was a great amount of intention in the way that Haru looked at him next, and after a beat of silence he said, "So you've done this before," with just the slightest bit of an edge to his tone.

This time, Makoto pursed his lips defensively after clicking his tongue, smile wiping away. "Yes. I am an adult you know."

Haru glanced bitterly to the side, and this time Makoto did laugh.

"What right do you have to be jealous right now?"

"I'm not jealous."

"You are. I've seen that look before. I'm well familiar with it."

"What was its name? Or has there been more than one?"

Makoto smiled, this time with fondness, because the blush in Haru's cheeks was quite flattering. "His name was Kisumi, and he was the only one."

Haru glanced back up from the corner of his eye. "I don't like him."

"You've never met him."

"He got to mate with you before I did."

"Please don't use that word."

"Were you boyfriends?"

Makoto nodded, and subconsciously reached up to brush back a lock of Haru's hair. "Yes."

"For how long?"

"About two years. The break-up wasn't especially messy, and I'm grateful for that. We both just kind of knew that, while it was nice to have what we had, we weren't fit to be together forever. He was a very … social person, who was especially fond of everyone's attention, and I didn't necessarily mind that — I mean, I trusted him — but at some point we agreed that he would be happier with more freedom, and I would be happier with more stability."

He shrugged. "So we broke it off, and I've been single since."

Haru gnawed on his lip thoughtfully. "Are you still friends?"

"Yes."

"I don't like him."

Makoto giggled and lowered himself closer, brushing a hand up the side of his waist. "Well, he's thousands of miles away in Tokyo, and I'm here with you — and happy to be, whatever the circumstances were that brought me here."

Haru frowned again, just that quickly, with that same look of grief that had been popping up far too consistently across the past few weeks, and Makoto was growing more deeply hurt by it every time it appeared. He rubbed the worry away from Haru's forehead with his thumb and gave him a peck on the lips.

"Please stop doing that. I don't like it when you look so sad."

Haru didn't respond. He instead took Makoto's face into his hands and drew him in again, kissing him now with some kind of desperation. Makoto followed, allowing all other thoughts and concerns and memories of other people to float away naturally as they returned to investing themselves in one another and one another only.

Haru's cooling touch dragged his shirt up his body, and Makoto allowed him to pull it off over his head before giving him one more solid kiss on the lips and then drifting down to search his neck. He quaked at the way Haru's fingers roamed through his hair, at the sound of his sigh, at the comfortable openness of his body. He allowed Makoto to settle between his thighs so easily, and seemed only grateful when Makoto's hands started roaming, sliding over his waist, down his backside, and squeezing gently at his thigh.

Haru's shirt found its way to the floor next, and Makoto took advantage of the invitation to nip at his collarbone, all the more marveled that every square inch of him was salty — but not aggressively so. It was very mild and quite natural, most especially when licked off of such soft skin.

"There's a concept in this situation," Makoto muttered against his neck, "that one person is the 'top' while the other is the 'bottom.' And, in the case that both are comfortable with it, there's always the possibility of switching it up. The idea is that the top gives while the bottom receives."

Haru hummed rather thoughtfully. "I see … It's impressively simple, isn't it?"

"More or less."

"Which do you prefer?"

"I'm fine with both. Sometimes it depends on the day, but right now I'm just willing to do whatever you're willing to do."

He pulled his head up to say this, and was gifted with a small smile when Haru turned his eyes down from the ceiling to look back at him.

"Has anyone ever told you you're too giving of yourself?"

"Yes."

"And you didn't listen."

Makoto chuckled. "Is that a bad thing in this context?"

"No. But your willingness is so endearing that it's become quite painful. I've been trying so hard not to call you cute."

He giggled. "Have you?"

"I think it'll kill me if I don't admit it."

"So you think I'm cute?"

"Excruciatingly, yes."

Makoto smiled. "Thank you."

Haru's face scrunched up with strain. "You're making it worse."

"I'm sorry."

"Stop being sorry."

"Oh yeah."

"Just keep touching me. I'd like to be the bottom."

Makoto's eyebrows shot up. "Really?"

Haru was already pulling him back into another round of kisses as he nodded. "If you're willing, then I'll take it," he murmured against his lips. "But I definitely intend to give it back to you later."

Makoto shivered with a secret glee that he was sure Haru could feel. It was hard to kiss while smiling so hard, but he managed it somehow. "Okay," he whispered. And he was surprised by the sureness of his fingers when they gripped at Haru's shorts and pulled them away from his waist.

He was in the midst of removing the rest of his own clothes, when he sat all the way back on his knees and said, "Oh … We need lube."

Haru leaned up on his elbows and furrowed his brow. "Lube?" he sounded out, as though he'd never encountered the word before, and this was somehow the thing that made Makoto blush the hardest all of a sudden.

"L-Like something that will make it … easier."

"You're going to have to be more specific."

He huffed out a breath and forced himself to get over it. If Haru could be so straight-forward and unabashed about getting into all the details, then there was no reason for Makoto to make a fuss about it. It wasn't like he'd never encountered this before.

His and Kisumi's first time had been intensely awkward — purely because Makoto had made it so. Kisumi had known what he was doing already, and was incredibly calm and patient about it, but Makoto couldn't have gotten any redder if he'd tried.

"Your body's not going to want to take me in without any preparation. We have to make sure you're um … loosened up, so to speak. I don't want you to be in any kind of pain, so we need something that'll make for an easier … slide."

"Oh. Lube as in lubrication."

"Yes."

Haru nodded, and rolled over to get off the bed. "You could have just said so."

Makoto scoffed. "I did say so."

Haru didn't respond to that, but Makoto could see the smirk on his lips as he left the room. He came back only a minute later and handed Makoto a glass jar with a clear substance inside of it as he crawled back onto the bed.

"Aloe vera?" he said, cocking an eyebrow up as though to ask if this was acceptable, all while laying back comfortably in his spot.

Admittedly, Makoto was impressed. "That's … actually really smart."

Haru gave him a flat look. "I'm not stupid. Just inexperienced."

Makoto chuckled and leaned over to kiss him. "I never thought you were stupid. You've done nothing but impress me the whole time I've been here."

"Good."

He flipped over onto his stomach and cushioned his chin with folded arms. "I imagine this makes it easier?"

Makoto tried not to the grin too widely. "Yes."

His eyes roamed Haru's back as he took the lid off of the jar and dipped his fingers inside. The aloe vera was cold, so he did the courtesy of warming it up with his fingertips, before stretching out over Haru's body, leaning on his left knee and elbow. He brushed the back of Haru's neck with his nose, then peppered a few soft kisses there before giving Haru a peck on the temple and whispering in his ear.

"Can I touch you?"

He watched Haru's eyes dreamily slide close and he nodded. "Please."

Makoto gave him another kiss on the corner of his jaw, and at first just simply ran his fingers back and forth in the natural crevice of Haru's body, amazed for a moment when he reminded himself that this was only one form of Haru, that there was a whole other anatomical side to him that was intensely foreign and ethereal. And for whatever reason, that duality about him was incredibly beguiling, and even sent a pulse of desire below his navel.

He rubbed at Haru's entrance with a finger, listening closely to the hitches and stretches of his breathing, continuing to kiss at his jaw. He pushed that finger in both gently and slowly, and still Haru jerked with a gasp.

"Relax," Makoto murmured.

Haru exhaled heavily, lips parted. Makoto slid his finger deeper, still slow and careful, still mindful of every nuance in Haru's breath. He didn't know why it was shocking to him that everything about Haru felt so extraordinarily human. He'd thought that he was human all the way up until barely an hour ago, but now all of a sudden, knowing that he wasn't — realizing that every inclination in him that had gaped at Haru before, as though he was something of another world, had been right to do so — it changed everything. And this experience was all the more chilling because of it.

He rotated his wrist carefully, pushing in all the way up until he couldn't anymore, and Haru breathed out the faintest of whines.

"Tell me if I need to stop."

"Don't," Haru huffed immediately, just barely lifting his hips to push back against Makoto's hand. "Don't stop."

Makoto rolled his bottom lip through his teeth, unable to respond. He began thrusting his finger back and forth, remaining slow and intentional, tracing the walls of Haru's body and pressing lightly where he saw fit. He watched the smallest of creases bend Haru's brow and he bit at his own lip as well, pushing back with his hips again.

Makoto's veins were buzzing with a lust that very nearly overwhelmed him, but he remained controlled, remained lucid. Though, he could almost feel his pupils expanding, watching the little shifts in Haru's expression, witnessing the flood of desire in his cheeks.

He pulled his finger out and Haru's bright blue eyes cracked open, immediately swinging back at him with the most enticing look of begging and protest. Makoto kissed the corner of his lips and pushed in two fingers.

Haru hissed through his teeth, back tensing, and a short groan escaped his throat.

"Relax," Makoto said again, this time huskily, though he didn't mean for his voice to come out that way.

Haru's breathing came out heavier, especially as Makoto resumed the back and forth motion of pushing his fingers in and out of his body. He bit down lightly on Haru's shoulder in an instinctive attempt to satiate his hunger, and Haru's voice came out so prettily, slightly hoarse and airless, but desperate. Makoto dug into him more insistently and Haru made the same noise, this time creating a tuneless song.

Makoto's skin was burning, body tingling all over. The need in his loins was so pressing that his entire pelvis throbbed. His hips started bucking on their own, erection grinding against Haru's thigh. He trembled with chills and nipped at more of Haru's shoulders, fingers curling.

It was only a moment or two before he managed to reach deep enough to catch the bundle of nerves — surprised yet again that Haru's human form was so accurately human — and Haru writhed underneath him with a much more echoing whine, fist clenching the sheets.

Makoto allowed a sigh of pleasure to burst out of his lungs and he stayed on that spot, moving his hips much more freely, biting a little harder. Haru moaned, head just barely lifting off of the pillow.

"What is that?" he gasped.

"Your prostate."

"That's what that feels like?"

"Yes."

"Oh my god."

Makoto just barely managed a chuckle, he was slipping under so quickly. He was already vibrating, longing to have his way, maybe even get a bit rough. He didn't usually think about those things, but it had been so long since he'd last had sex that his mind was reeling, and he couldn't catch a single thought. This was the most feral he'd felt in probably ever. Not even Kisumi had pulled this raw of an instinctive hunger out of him. It felt like his body had been waiting for this — for Haru specifically, and he hadn't known it until this moment.

"Haru," he breathed, hips still grinding.

Haru hummed a whining sob, because Makoto's fingers hadn't stopped in the slightest bit.

"I don't think I can wait much longer."

"Then don't."

He didn't need anything more than that really. He'd already been reaching for the open jar with his other hand, and he ignored the cold and the way it sent goosebumps up his arms as he prepared himself, but his dick was plenty hot enough that it didn't last but for a second.

He pushed himself up onto his knees, just enough to hover and forced himself to take his time stretching out the rim of muscle around Haru's hole just a little bit more, just to make sure, because it was going to be a tight fit — and that was dangerously more thrilling than it should have been. Haru's hips lifted from the bed, voice whining again, and Makoto's other hand stroked soothingly at his spine.

He didn't take too much longer with it. He was already beginning to sweat from the sheer anticipation. He positioned himself carefully, and then very slowly inched his way into Haru's body, instantly biting back curses because he wanted to shove so badly, but Haru was already squirming.

He gasped, elbows digging into the bed, head popping up only to hang down and dig his forehead into the pillow. Makoto hazily watched the frantic expansion and deflation of his body, his breathing ragged and quick.

"Fuck," he moaned. "Fuck, you're huge."

"Sorry …"

Haru threw back his arm to swat at him and ended up digging into his ass with a desperate grip. "Stop- fucking apologizing," he gasped.

"Sorry," he breathed again, this time into Haru's neck and it just barely came out as a whisper.

His body was trembling with restraint, but he somehow managed to push most of the way in and allow Haru just a moment to catch his breath and get used to his presence, and Makoto dug his arm underneath his chest, holding him close and kissing his neck some more.

"Are you okay?" he asked, after a handful of very loud heartbeats had gone by.

Haru just kept breathing, undecided whether or not his head wanted to pick itself up or stay buried in the pillow. In the end, he turned it back to the side with his cheek pressed against it and huffed out a, "Yes."

"I'm gonna start moving."

"… Okay."

It was confirmed immediately. This was his person, his merman, his match — whatever you wanted to call it. It was a bit overwhelming to realize that. He didn't know what it was exactly that was telling him this, but he knew it. And somehow the rapid and terrifying closeness that had been happening made so much more sense. This moment had been inevitable, and he let go of the restraint easily, let himself fall into it, and turn off whatever unnecessary thinking was left.

He let his body take over and it thrust into Haru deeply and surely after only a moment of tentative motion. He shivered and tightened his hold and listened to Haru's moans and relished the way Haru's hand moved up to grip at his hair, holding onto him urgently.

He pressed frantic, open-mouthed kisses to all parts of Haru's face, Haru's neck, Haru's shoulders and back, and his pace quickened into a rhythm, the goodness of it dragging half-frustrated groans out of his throat, because he couldn't obliterate Haru the way he wanted to. But he did his best, and it was just as thrilling to try. The way Haru struggled underneath him was electrifying.

He should have warned him about this — about what actually came with him being the top. This was the only place his body so naturally used its strength, was so fully aware of it, the only place where, once given consent, he fastened onto the thing that he wanted, that he thirsted for, that he itched to squeeze, and didn't let it go. This was the rawest form of him, and once he was there, it was nearly impossible to find his way back out forcefully, though it wasn't like he'd ever really tried or needed to.

But he had one ear open and listening, just in case Haru's song of pleasure turned sour, just in case he called for a timeout or begged to stop entirely. Thankfully he didn't, and Makoto was more than grateful — filled with awe and yet more yearning even that Haru in fact sounded just as thoroughly gone as he himself did.

Neither of them spoke another word for the whole while that the bed rocked beneath them, but there was no such thing as silence.

He didn't know who was counting the minutes, but at some point, he stopped only long enough to turn Haru over on his back and resumed with the addition of ravenous kisses to his lips now. Both of Haru's hands buried in his hair, and his ankles locked around his back, clinging to him like he was a lifeline, and Makoto, not only didn't mind that, but fell in love with it.

His tongue swirled through Haru's mouth, teeth biting at his lip, eating him up like he was that first meal that Haru had ever fed him — which he barely even remembered inhaling before going in for seconds. He would take seconds of Haru, thirds, fourths, fifths — infinite servings of Haru and his salt-soaked skin.

It was starting to weigh on him, the inevitable eruption. He was full to brimming, and his body trembled all the more with each thrusting motion. His own voice climbed up in octaves, and he almost lost the rhythm to frantic abandon — did lose the rhythm to frantic abandon, and Haru's head tipped back, because the kissing had stopped and he cried out like he was dying but enjoying every second of it.

Makoto was only just remembering that he should have asked where to cum, when it hit him like a freight train and it was already happening. Every bit of it pumped into Haru's body, and he lost track of his voice — lost track of both of their voices. All he knew for a hot, blissful second was that he was fully alive — and that he would never again attain that level of height unless it was exactly like this, with Haru.

He crashed back down with a gasp, waves of relief rushing through him like he'd just broken the surface. He panted into Haru's neck, arms still holding him tightly. His hips still moved of their own accord, but slowly, lazily, peacefully, and Haru hummed about it, fingers raking through the back of his hair.

Makoto kissed his neck several times, then his jaw, then his cheek, then his lips deeply, before he finally came to a full stop and pulled out carefully. Haru gasped, wincing at the loss, and Makoto did too. He gave his lips one more kiss, and then pushed his weight back on his knees and trailed a line of kisses down from the hollow in Haru's throat, over his sternum, and down his stomach. He shuffled back just a bit and stretched out comfortably toward the end of the bed as he took Haru's cock into his mouth and sucked at it thoroughly, allowing it to hit the back of his throat, and Haru quaked, back arching off of the bed.

His thighs trembled, and his fingers pulled, still caught in Makoto's hair. It was enticing, and Makoto let him know by smoothing a hand down his leg and pulling it over his shoulder, turning his head to briefly suck a bruise onto the inside of his thigh — marking this moment in time, stamping his presence, his territory. And Haru's moan crawled up the back of his neck with a chill.

He returned to sucking him off, and it wasn't much longer that Haru's breathing became strained and he tensed, hips pushing up several times of their own accord until he came with a silent scream, fist so tightly clenched that Makoto couldn't have moved even if he wanted to — he didn't want to. And he took all of Haru's seed with gusto. It was also unsurprisingly salty, but of a different kind than his skin.

Haru gasped on air finally, and went bonelessly still, small whimpers of exhaustion breaking through his panting. Makoto placed a kiss on his stomach, then reflexively wiped at the corner of his mouth as he crawled back up to peck Haru's lips. His eyes were closed, but the moment Makoto lifted his head to pull away, Haru tossed an arm around his neck and pulled him back down for a longer and much more involved kiss.

Makoto chuckled, hands gliding up and down his supple waist. He was surely the softest creature he'd ever touched.

Haru rolled over, and Makoto allowed it, turning effortlessly so that he was now on his back and Haru was the one hovering over him. His legs straddled his waist, body still somehow so cool pressed up against his. Haru's lips kissed his eagerly for a good moment, and then he ducked down to very enthusiastically press kisses to his neck and nuzzled in close, arms squeezing.

Makoto giggled this time, cringing against the tickle, but his arms curled securely around Haru's back and he moved one hand up to rake gratefully through his hair, humming a sigh.

Neither of them spoke yet, but words seemed so unnecessary. They could feel each other's heartbeats against their chests, listened tranquilly to the other's breathing, their bodies stayed locked and pressed together. It was all that they needed in order to know and understand what was necessary to know and understand in that moment. They were happy, and probably both at the most peace that they had been in a while.

Makoto tipped his head to nudge his cheek against the top of Haru's head, fingers scratching lightly through his hair, enjoying the silky texture. He was relaxed enough that he could have very easily fallen asleep, but he stared up at the ceiling instead, smiling privately. His heart was too full for sleep. He didn't want to check out of this moment.

"Haru …"

Haru's back slowly rose and fell under his palm. "Hm."

"Does your tail show up in the tub?"

There was a weightless moment of silence following that question. And then Haru laughed into his neck.

Hardly ten minutes later, they'd moved to lounging in a bubble bath, and Makoto smiled, tipping his head as he watched Haru's shimmering tail drift lazily back and forth, draped partway over the tub. He was leaned back against Makoto's chest, reclining comfortably between his legs, eyes closed, but Makoto knew he wasn't asleep, mostly because his fingers were leisurely stroking his own open palms, as though very absently enjoying the texture.

Makoto kissed his temple. And they locked their fingers together.