Tetsuhiro may not be sure how it was necessarily fair that, in an unprecedented turn of events beneath his knowledge, a certain somebody was given a spare key to a home that wasn't theirs - but he knows that that knowledge sits in the pit of his stomach like a sedimentary corpse to adiamorphic lava.
Sure, he's been away quite a lot, recently; with Souichi having begun a career teaching students and educating them for the fields in which he'd practically imprinted upon his skin, his intelligence threshold woven into the tendrils of his musculature. He understood that Souichi may have needed a little bit of encouragement and recuperation upon coming home each day, therefore Tetsuhiro made sure that supper had been promptly prepared each and every evening for them, and oftentimes, they left it at that.
While he was not very enthralled by their recent lack of intimacy, Tetsuhiro knew better than to whine and bitch about it, especially around a lethargic, work-drained Souichi.
However, his new-fangled roommate certainly wasn't supporting his cause, and definitely wasn't making it any easier to spend any private time with his partner.
"He was in a pickle," Souichi had told him one evening, as the two pondered their workdays over a shared glass of Yamazaki single-malt, his lover's hair damp upon his shoulders where it had been brushed out and conditioned just moments prior. "His employment agency recently moved him from one bureau to another in Tsushima, and you know how he gets when he's in town and he's bored."
Tetsuhiro couldn't believe what he was hearing. "So you just invite somebody like Isogai to room with you? You're comfortable living around a sleazeball like that?"
"He's not that bad, and you know it," Souichi frowned, shooting him a look out of the corner of his eye. "He heads out during the day, doesn't disturb me while I'm working, and oftentimes brings home something for dinner, so that it's less for you to do after you get off shift. Afterward, he heads to his room and retires for the night. And no, I did not offer him your room - he's got the guest suite, by the kitchen."
"Souichi-san," the man sighs, pressing terse fingers to stressed eyelids. "I really don't understand why you made that choice, of all choices, before consulting me first. You know I can't stand the guy."
"Like it's any of your business?" Souichi then asks him, making deadpanned eye contact as the man sips their expensive, honey-rouged whiskey from his glass. "You moved out, and we discussed how necessary it was that I try to rent out a room here, since I had to be self-servient for the time being. Why is that a problem?"
"Because it's him," Tetsuhiro frowns. "He's… icky. He's always up in your business, wanting to know every little detail about us, and wanting to encroach upon our private lives and stick his nose in every little inglenook and crevasse."
The blond snorts, rolling his eyes. "What are you, five? He's done nothing wrong to you."
Beside him, the man lets out a slow, exasperated sigh, for Souichi is just not getting the real predicament that has presented itself here, and Tetsuhiro certainly does not have the patience to entertain something like this after a long day at work. "It's not what he's done to me that's the problem," he mumbles into his liquor, slouching back into the sofa as he takes a long, slow sip. "It's what he knows, and what he could do with that information."
"He wouldn't," Souichi states abruptly, quickly, tone flat and words precise. "He knows better."
Yeah, yeah, sure, sure. Tetsuhiro could be fed the prettiest of ostentatious words that exist within their realm, within their quaint little six-hundred square-foot apartment; it still would not convince him in the slightest to trust someone, down to the bone, like Isogai. "So, I assume, then, that I'm supposed to hold you to the standard that nothing about our living situation will change?"
Curtly, Souichi nods. "Nothing will change."
"Absolutely nothing?"
"Nothing," the blond repeats, cutting his eye at him.
Tetsuhiro doesn't dignify that with a response, merely peering down at the glass he's been sipping from, and curiously swirling the caramelized liquid inside. He sincerely doubts that nothing in regards to their home lives would change with Isogai here, regardless of what Souichi may think. But, sure, Tetsuhiro could try to entertain that idea, for as long as possible.
Their living situation does not, in fact, stay the same and does not, in fact, prove that nothing would change.
The longer Isogai lingers within their home, coming home from work day in and day out, showering, bringing home the occasional shareable meal, and heading to the loft to do his coursework, the shorter Tetsuhiro's patience becomes, and the quicker his hairline trigger becomes.
"Are you feeling alright, Tetsuhiro-kun?" Isogai asks him one night, when the man had been perusing a newspaper article regarding the exponential growth in neutrality for gendered staffing in corporeal industries. "You're not your usual self, today."
"I'm fine," Tetsuhiro states with a glance over his shoulder, busying himself with pouring a handful of espresso beans into the coffee filter. "And I didn't ask."
The rustle of paper, a soft sigh. "Ah, you're so cold," the man upon the sofa drawls sarcastically. "When will you finally warm up to me, Tetsuhiro-kun? I've been good, and I've done nothing to turn you even further away from me. Yeah?"
"Not exactly on my to-do list, no offense," is what he has to say, for there is no way in hell he could explain to somebody like him what the reason for his attitude is.
Right. There's no way somebody like him could articulate to somebody like Isogai, that he's cranky because he can't remember the last time he's been laid.
Was it possible to die from an erect cock? Tetsuhiro didn't exactly want to be the controlled variable within the experiment made to find out.
It had been hard - literally - enough trying to maneuver his constant buzzing arousal around Isogai's wary gaze and all-knowing instincts, leaving Tetsuhiro to constantly lay pillows across his lap when he sits down on the couch, and to take many a cold shower in the evening time, when they're all home together.
Whether he thinks he's benefiting the greater good or not, Isogai doesn't get it. He doesn't get how alluring Souichi can be without even trying, how delicately demure he is when fresh out of the shower, smelling of rose petals and cedarwood, how delectable he looks in just his underclothes, how fetching he can be when he stretches up high, arching his back and exposing inches of mouthwatering muscle -
"Tetsuhiro-kun?"
He jolts a little bit, glancing up from where he'd been gripping the counter between white knuckles, his breaths just a little bit more labored than they had been moments ago. There was no way he could turn to face his new roommate, like this, not with a very persistent problem pressed to the gusset of the granite countertop.
If only the man were not here, Tetsuhiro would have dragged Souichi to the nearest ledge, bent him over, and taken him right then and there, hot and fast and -
"Tetsuhiro-kun."
A hand is placed upon his shoulder, and it causes Tetsuhiro to nearly bolt right out of his skin. "What?" He asks quickly, shakenly, and does his best to calm his nerves. "What? What do you want, Taichirou-san?"
Over his shoulder, Isogai is as prim and proper as the man ever could be, not a hair out of place and not a bead of sweat shed, unlike somebody they both knew. "You weren't saying anything," is what the blond has to say, his lips pursed in what could have only been described as a puppy-dog pout, as if he were begging to obtain something from one's cross birthmother. "Are you in a sour mood?"
"I told you, I didn't ask," Tetsuhiro tells him with a furrow of the brows, deciding he needed more of a distraction than smalltalk with fucking Isogai, of all people. Determined to not show how badly his hands may be shaking, Tetsuhiro efficiently pours himself a coffee into his favorite World's Smartest Brainiac mug, that Souichi had gotten for him last Christmas as a gag gift. It had gone over so well that Tetsuhiro had grown to adore keeping it at the very front of the mug shelf, as a display. And, guessing what Isogai may want, if Tetsuhiro knew even the slightest thing about the man, has him gently thrusting a plain-beige mug of steamed coffee into the man's hands, as well. "Here, before you even ask."
"Sheesh, you are touchy," Isogai tisks, steadying the mug in his lithe hands before the liquid has the chance to drip over the sides. However, it smells good, and he knows that Tetsuhiro would never stoop so low as to poison anything he ingested, or Souichi would be the very first person to turn him into the police. So, Isogai takes a delicate sip, and hums to himself in their now-shared kitchen. "What, didn't get to rail anybody as of late?"
The way Tetsuhiro's body tenses must be noticeable, has to be, if the way his jaw clenches and the way his grip on the mug tightens, were any indication.
"Ah," Isogai drawls, and Tetsuhiro can fucking hear the joy in his voice that he gets out of picking on the man's sexual frustration. "I see, I see."
"You don't see anything," he retorts sharply, warning him to not press any further. "You're very lucky that I'm even letting Souichi-san rent this place out to you, you know, so don't you dare push it. I'll have you out that door, lying on the welcome mat, quicker than you can even say goodnight to him."
"Ah, you wound me," Isogai chuckles, pressing a palm to the center of his chest, as if he'd been bludgeoned. "I thought we had long established between one another that I would never make advances on Souichi-kun, that way. No offense, but he's not exactly my type."
"You sure?" Tetsuhiro questions with a slight tinge of sarcasm lacing his voice, as he sips his coffee and makes direct eye contact with him. "Word on the street is you've got a raging hard-on for a little slender thing who's got a knack for drinking. Am I wrong?"
A dark chuckle, a smooth sip of coffee. "You're a keen one, Tetsuhiro-kun."
He expects a rebuttal, a response, a confirmation, even - yet all he gets is a pat to the shoulder with a chaste palm, and a whisper in his ear. "You'd be wise to keep your tone in check, for I could very well set the two of you up into a very romantic moment, together, if you decide to play nicely, for once."
He grits his teeth as the man softly pads away and heads into the loft where he resides, and Tetsuhiro could certainly give somebody an earful, right now. What sort of game was this supposed to be? He weasels his way into their lives, bribes them with complimentary food and money and alcohol, immediately slithers right up into Souichi's bubble and business, and claims he doesn't have any ulterior motives?
If there was ever a better time to head down to Adamsite, Tetsuhiro was positive it had to be right now, before his head and his dick both burst at the seams.
Contrary to the hopes that Tetsuhiro had grown and nurtured, Isogai does not fuck off.
And by not fucking off, Tetsuhiro means that "private time with Souichi-san" becomes nearly obsolete, to the point that he begins to forget that it may have ever even been a real thing.
He's in every facet of their day-to-day routine, now, from the time Tetsuhiro wakes up in the morning to wash his face and brush his teeth, to the time Souichi has his evening time cup of coffee as he prepares lesson plans for the next month of school. No matter where he seems to turn, Isogai is always right over his shoulder, scrambling his own eggs on the stove, brewing his own special-blend coffee, and watching his own variety shows on their television.
Tetsuhiro doesn't remember agreeing to being polyamorous.
If it had been anybody else that had become their roommate, even if it was Tadokoro-kun once more, Tetsuhiro would have felt a level of residual comfort allowing such a person to infiltrate their lives, especially considering most people, who aren't Taichirou Isogai, actually have a level of respect for Tetsuhiro and Souichi as a pair.
He tried to pretend that it didn't bother him, tried to pretend that it wouldn't change his everyday routines.
He tried to fold his laundry without noticing Isogai's pretentious bottle of scent beads on the washings shelf. He tries to find the confidence to parade around their apartment topless after a shower, as he typically does, usually catching Souichi's eye no matter how the man denies it. He tries to pretend that the food in their fridge doesn't begin to run out slightly quicker than it normally does, or how he begins to find twice as much wet hair clippings in the shower drain, than usual. Tetsuhiro cannot help having to shave every so often, and Souichi was never a hairy man.
He even tries to pretend that there was hope for having sex, while a stranger lurked around in their living area.
Gently, he would press tender kisses to the soft sides of Souichi's neck as the man was studying, would slip the pads of fingertips up the rim of his shirt to skirt along soft, warm skin. "Can I hold you tonight, Souichi-san?" He would ask quietly, certain that, if he were to arouse his partner to such an extent that he could no longer think about the repercussions of their actions, surely he could convince him to spend the night with him, just once.
"Are you crazy?" Souichi would hiss under his breath, hushed like that of a whisper. "Isogai's right in the den, and no way is he getting that kind of a performance, even if his life depended on it. Don't you dare."
Disheartened, Tetsuhiro had tried again, trailing the wet tip of his tongue to Souichi's earlobe and roving over the skin behind it. Souichi had gasped out, then, arching, instinctively rolling his head back in a wordless beg for more stimulation. "Please?"
However, he always forgets just how headstrong Souichi could be, and found himself shoved away as his partner had covered himself up with his cardigan. "Get. Out."
And, not willing to quite literally cause a national war within the miniscule walls of their shared apartment, Tetsuhiro had left him alone, and had kept his hands to himself. Several days later, Tetsuhiro is not exactly sure just how much longer he can take this back-and-forth game of forced celibacy.
"Do you plan on paying rent, any time soon?" Is how Tetsuhiro finds it fit to greet the man that morning, an entire week-and-a-half after his first visit, having lingered.
That morning, Isogai had been sitting at their coffee table with a fresh cup of espresso, one shot of milk and no sugars, typing away at his work laptop with a firm, determined press of fingertips. Taken off-guard, Isogai glances up at him over the rim of his reading glasses. "I beg your pardon, Morinaga-kun?"
"You heard me," Tetsuhiro calmly states, resting his elbows on the surface of their kitchen island as he lays his chin in one chaste palm. "You asked to stay over, and Souichi-san and I both allowed you to join us, with the expectation that you'd be here for a weekend, if not three days, at the most. It's been what, six days, and you're still here? Don't you have places to be, things to do?"
In a smarmy display of emotion, Isogai purses his lips in a childish little pout. "I took a leave of absence from work, and hoped to catch up on some journal entries while I was away, and what fun is it to write all day in silence, by yourself? I wanted to see how my old pals were doing."
Sighing to himself, Tetsuhiro presses stressed fingertips to his temple and attempts to massage away the growing migraine. "You're overstaying your welcome," he manages to bite out without looking the man in the eye. "Leave."
"Ah, my goodness, you're feisty today," the man has a chuckle over his morning coffee, bringing it to smirking lips before lounging back against the soft press of the sofa behind him. "What, a little sour that I'm causing you to have blue balls?"
"Seriously?" Tetsuhiro groans wistfully, wishing with every fiber of his being that the ground would somehow open up like this was some Quentin Tarantino movie, and the spirits of the beneath would whisk Isogai away from him forever. "Not only is that none of your business, that better not specifically be why you won't leave, or I'll call the police and file a restraining order."
"It's not," Isogai grins, withholding their eye contact as he sips his coffee. "You just make it so obvious."
That had to absolutely be Tetsuhiro's cue to flush bright red, whether out of anger or embarrassment, he wasn't able to discern, at that moment. The next thing he knew, he was storming out of the room with bated breath and a tightness in his gut, needing to flee to the safest spot in his apartment if his dick were to suddenly combust. Being out in the full-fronted with a timebomb in his pants would be more mortifying than admitting to Isogai that he spends his weekends blowing Souichi's back out, and that he's getting in the way of that.
As soon as he's back in his own bedroom, he lets out a tense sigh and leans his back against the cool wood, skin sweaty against the crisp surface.
He can't wait to get rid of this asshole, once and for all.
He wishes that he could appreciate the sight of Souichi preparing a radish salad for them for lunchtime, something easy so that the man doesn't burn the kitchen down by simply flouring his work surface. Moments like those don't exactly come often, you know, and Souichi's gentility and willingness to provide doesn't grow on trees.
However, as he mulls over his partner's knifework from where he's sat at their kitchen island, elbows against the surface as he presses his folded hands to his lips in concentration, he can't help but overhear the slight, barely-there sounds of Isogai's metal chopsticks clinking against porcelain as the man eats in their living room, as he watches their television and laughs at their favorite channels.
"...hiro?"
What was necessarily fair about not being able to spend time together because somebody else wants to interfere, around-the-clock? Tetsuhiro could maybe deal with it if Isogai were to only be here for a handful of hours during the day, and then head off to run errands for the remainder of daylight. That would earn them a little peace and quiet. With him here at every waking moment, means that Tetsuhiro cannot even recall when the last time that he was able to hold Souichi as they both fell asleep, as they frotted against one another and whispered out desperate, hushed moans, as they stayed up late doing online trainings and passed out at the same work desk.
No, this was more than just simply visiting and popping by to see some friends. This was interfering with their already-tight schedules and was tampering with Tetsuhiro's mental health.
"Tetsuhiro?"
Startled, he glances up from where he'd been mentally musing over the safest way to execute a private homicide, his hands falling from where they'd rested against his pursed mouth. Souichi stares at him from across the island, small, bony fingers splayed across the cool surface where he leans slightly forward, and Tetsuhiro is able to drink in his surroundings once more.
That's right, Souichi had been making them a radish salad after his morning shower, his long hair still slightly-damp and silky-smooth where it falls loosely down his back and to his waist. He's beautiful, as always, in his own demure way. This calm, delicate, comfortable Souichi is one that Tetsuhiro just craves defiling, ruining, and downright smothering in affectionate kisses and gratifying orgasms.
"Hello?" Souichi drawls softly, his eyebrows furrowing as he raises one hand to wave it in front of his partner as though he were unseeing. "Anyone home?"
Wordlessly, Tetsuhiro encapsulates that faint hand in his own palm and, coquettishly, brings it to his lips for a soft kiss against smooth knuckles. Grimacing, Souichi retracts the appendage and wipes it on his knit cardigan. "Sorry," he offers, frowning to himself in an attempt to drown such wicked thoughts. "Guess I was just lost in thought."
As though he only half-believed him, the corner of Souichi's mouth had curved up, then, leaving his expression lopsided and almost sarcastic-looking. "You? Lost inside your own head? Oh, never."
Far from settling into a humorous mood, Tetsuhiro offers him a snort, and glances away for just a moment to collect proper thoughts. "Ha-ha, very funny. I'm absolutely beside myself laughing."
However, he must have forgotten that Souichi definitely knows him better than that, given the way the man doesn't move a single muscle as he simply looks at him, watches him, as though gauging his reactions. "You finished?"
Hmm. "Yeah."
Curtly, Souichi nods, then, and adjusts his position to mirror him a little bit more, elbows resting against the countertop and arms crossed over his front where they sit. "Are you going to share with the class what your mind is cooking up tonight, or am I supposed to guess?"
That was a very good question. How, exactly, was he meant to explain that he had been so deprived of intimate contact with Souichi due to a certain someone, to the extent that it's caused him to begin feeling manic? Tetsuhiro cannot think of a sane way to say he was so excited to get his dick wet that it was causing him to debate risking incarceration. "I'd rather not say it out loud."
Unamused, Souichi gives him a childish purse of the lips. "Didn't know we were keeping secrets."
Really, it's not like he would be ashamed to reveal the downright vile things he may have been thinking of doing to Souichi. Rather, it was more so that he would be ashamed to have Isogai hear him admit his desires to commit those vile things. If they did not have a third party just several meters, Tetsuhiro would have bent Souichi over their kitchen island and fucked him until he was a dripping, sobbing disaster. With how perpetually aroused he had been at any varying moment, the past several days, he would have cried to be able to sink into him right then and there, and Souichi would gasp and choke out a low, guttural moan, as the sensation would sweep him right off his feet and bring heat to his loins as he pressed him back onto his shaft -
"Are we going to eat?" He bites out, willing to do anything, at this point, to stop thinking about his partner and his fucking ass and cock. "The radishes weren't too hard to julienne, were they? The daikon should have been quite tender and sharp, since I bought it just yesterday from the market."
That seemed to jostle Souichi's memory, as the man makes a face, then, his lips rounding in surprise and his gaze flitting to the side, before he hoists himself back up and retreats to the counter to fetch their shared lunch. "No, it was fine," he says as he turns back around with a small plate in each hand. "I know that I'm not exactly skilled in cooking, but anybody can chop radishes. The sparklers were a little bit tough, though, but from my experience, that's normal."
It doesn't look like the most appetizing thing in the world, but Souichi made it with his own hands, which makes it, by default, the most appetizing thing in the world. Souichi passes him a pair of chopsticks, and seats himself at the island across from him.
"Thank you for making this, by the way," Tetsuhiro offers softly as he scoops up a small mouthful of sliced daikon, as if his change in tone would suffice as an apology for wanting to unalive Souichi's friend-that-isn't-a-friend. "It's been hard to eat properly these days, with all of this training."
"Yeah, you're telling me," Souichi agrees with a satisfied mumble, and pure delight swirls in Tetsuhiro's gut when the radish sharply crunches with each bite, an indicator that he had shopped well. "I definitely didn't anticipate just how many students would need after-class tutoring and assistance. I feel like I never get to leave."
Chewing quietly, Tetsuhiro cannot help but manage a small smile. "What can I say? You are an excellent tutor."
However, Souichi simply scoffs at him, his tongue set in his cheek. "Are you kidding me? You know I'm no good with people. Teaching a class is definitely different from private tutoring."
"Not necessarily," he says as he mulls the thought over, shrugging his shoulders just a tad. "It sounds like it would be like group teaching, only on a much smaller scale. Sounds like it would allow for more leeway to be able to better understand the student you're tutoring."
"Fair," his partner continues, "but you know that I'm no good one-on-one, alright? That's my point."
He could laugh, honestly; Souichi, all furrowed eyebrows and frustrated, tired eyes behind lenses, long sandy hair waterfalling down past his shoulders, the clinking of his wristwatch soft in the domestic air, is immaculate with people when one-on-one. How his perspective of his own self could have been so warped, Tetsuhiro probably will not learn.
Yet, in that moment, he realizes just how lucky he actually was to have someone like Souichi. To have someone as hardworking, as intellectual, as daring, as seductive as Souichi was.
He manages to finish his hand-crafted lunch, but only barely manages to keep it together as he does so.
Souichi tells him about his latest tutoring session with a young man named Ryosuke, a pre-grad medical student who struggled with stoichiometry. When he bends forward to explain the story and Tetsuhiro catches a glimpse of sharp collarbones, his knuckles whiten. When Souichi delicately licks over his bottom lip to wet the path for more frustrated words, his mouth runs dry.
Just one kiss, he thinks to himself. Just one kiss would satiate the hunger in his gut and the burning in his loins, he's sure of it. Just one little taste of that sinful mouth and he could be satiated, he's sure of it. Souichi probably wouldn't even fight him that much about it, since it would be just one. Anymore and he'd get touchy, Tetsuhiro knows, but he just needs one little -
"You're not even listening to me, are you?"
He's trying, dammit, he is, but it's hard to concentrate on anything other than the thrumming in his veins, sprouting gooseflesh all along his clothed limbs, and the throbbing ache that runs along the gusset of his trousers.
"Ryosuke doesn't do his homework, and pesters you with imbecilic questions that could be answered by oneself," he responds quickly, almost mechanically, as though rehearsed through his tense voice as his hands clench upon the countertop. "Did I miss anything?"
However, as he waits for his question to be answered, he notices that Souichi isn't even looking at him. Rather, Souichi is looking below him, and when Tetsuhiro follows the line of his gaze, he realizes what exactly his partner had been so fascinated by, then.
He hadn't even realized that he'd gotten himself so riled up that he'd practically wolfed down his entire lunch, leaving Souichi to half a small plate himself and wonderment in his eyes.
"Jesus, did you grow a second stomach overnight, or something?" Souichi snorts, unsure what to make of the ferocity that had overtaken Tetsuhiro enough to cause him to scarf down his meal like he'd been starved for days on end. "I'm… glad it was to your liking."
While Tetsuhiro ponders how to sacrifice oneself to a benevolent higher being in exchange for some fucking head, his partner stands from his seat rather abruptly, slips his fingers beneath the lip of his plate, and brings it over to the sink to clean it, leaving his own food behind.
"You…" the man begins to say, eyes flitting back and forth from the half-eaten radish salad inches from him, to his pert-reared lover standing at their kitchen washbasin. Sucking a small breath in as to help himself piece his words together, his fingernails dig into the meat of his palms as the thrumming begins to soar in his veins at the sight before him.
Souichi bends slightly forward so as to prevent any spraying of the faucet from within the basin, a simple movement without any ulterior motive, but a movement that causes the man's trousers to pull taut across his ass, and Tetsuhiro can't fucking take it anymore.
He's out of his seat before he could even think about moving, overcome with a cloying urge to claim like he was some fucking animal in heat, before the burning in his veins set him aflame. There's no time to debate morals or to argue with the greater good, for he plants broad palms upon the edge of the countertop on either side of his partner, bracketing him in, and buries his nose in Souichi's neck.
The man startles with a soft sound from low in the throat, something startled, and nearly drops the plate that he holds in his hands. "What are you doing?" Souichi asks in a low voice, in that standard, irritated tone of his, albeit slightly more gentle than normal. "I know we haven't been able to spend that much time together, but I don't think that warrants this."
Sure, maybe he's right. Maybe the truth that he speaks was genuinely meant for a sensible mind, one of which Tetsuhiro does not have.
He tries to resist, he really does , but Souichi just had to wear those pants that Tetsuhiro had bought him from the outlets last spring and just had to take away his down-dicking privileges, and -
He snarls low in his throat, grips Souichi by the hip bones and tugs, pulling him back and pressing himself into the cleft of the man's ass.
That causes his partner to gasp quite loudly, scrabbling to support himself with hands upon tense forearms, as Tetsuhiro rocks into him from behind. "What - " he tries, struggles, suddenly hyper-aware of their surroundings. "No, you - stop, we can't - "
Tetsuhiro can't think, not when he has Souichi perched forward over the countertop, rocking against the cleft of his ass in desperation for just some friction. "Can't what?" He manages, shoving himself against him harder. Souichi chokes out a startled sound, then quickly brings a hand to his mouth to stifle any further noises. They can't do this. They can't do this. Isogai is right there, what was he thinking?
The blond must have tried to push himself forward and away from his grasp - that's his only educated guess, given how Souichi seems to suddenly move backwards into him to meet his movements as he rocked against him. Tetsuhiro wants to believe that it had been intentional, but there was definitely no way. And there's definitely no way that Souichi had then begun mewling softly, fingertips digging softly into the meat of the man's forearms on either side of him.
When Tetsuhiro's mouth meets the chords of his neck, Souichi's eyes flutter closed and his head lolls back against his partner's shoulder. Warm tingles arise on each inch of skin that he kisses, and Souichi shivers as his face pinks, biting down on his lower lip.
When a warm hand trails its way down his stomach and cups his erection, Souichi flinches like he'd been doused in ice-frigid water.
He turns on his heel and shoves Tetsuhiro back, the man stumbling on his feet a bit as Souichi covers his chest with the sides of his cardigan. His hands tremble and his breaths shudder as he supports himself against the counter, so his knees don't buckle and completely fail him, and wills his body to calm back down. However, when his gaze refocuses and he manages to stabilize himself, his mouth runs dry at the sight he's met with.
Tetsuhiro is all but seductively disheveled, tall and broad and haphazardly thrown together with his half-buttoned shirt and unbuttoned slacks, the very erect print of his very erect cock extremely visible against his thigh, curving down toward his hip. His hair is slightly mussed, lips glossy from his saliva as he wipes a chaste thumb against them, and his eyes - his eyes -
Souichi can't think of any words to describe the darkness in the man's eyes, the depth of libido simmering at the surface of verdigris orbs.
If that gaze didn't scream predatory, then he wasn't sure what the fuck he was seeing.
The silence begins to stretch on a bit uncomfortably as they catch their breaths, Tetsuhiro averting his gaze as the shame of forcefully trying to take him in their kitchen begins to set in, and Souichi curls his fingers into his buttons further.
"We'll talk about this later," Souichi tells him under his breath, having to wet his lower lip with the tip of a tongue for the path to be slick enough to speak. "When… when he isn't here."
Tetsuhiro swallows, able to think a little bit, now. It certainly wasn't anything to write home about, and he's still erect and still throbbing against his own skin, but the slight stimulation did help him clear his mind at least for the time being. "Alright," he agrees with a nod, beginning to wring his hands nervously.
It could make Souichi laugh, honestly, at how this six-three oaf could be brave enough to fuck him in their kitchen with an audience, but then have no words when it came time to face the situation he created all on his own. Yet, he finds his thoughts much murkier with how the rough press of Tetsuhiro's shaft had felt against him, hot and insistent and dominant.
He would rather stab himself in the jugular and subsequently choke on his own blood than admit to having wished they had been alone, right then and there.
He catches movement out of the corner of his eye, and notices Souichi pulling the hem of his cardigan downward. Right. They had just… yeah.
Well, at least Souichi's was certainly sizably smaller than his, and therefore, could be concealed better.
When Souichi pads into the living area just moments later to greet Isogai and ask him about what's on the television that afternoon, Tetsuhiro finds it necessary to bend forward and lay his arms and front across the cool granite countertop and presses a clammy forehead to the stone. Anything would be welcomed if it helped reduce the fever thrumming in his veins, at this point.
After that night, Tetsuhiro does his best to keep his hands - and his dick-that-could-cut-diamonds - to himself, until he was sure that the coast was clear. It wasn't necessarily for lack of a better time of day, but rather that it would flood him with guilt if he were to create a scandal between Souichi and Isogai, all because of him. No matter how aroused he could feel and how desperate he may be, he respected Souichi far too much to cross those boundaries.
And, well, he did not want to talk about what happened in the kitchen, just two days earlier.
He hadn't been able to will his erection away, after that, and had retreated to the bathroom to rub one out in the shower. It had helped temporarily, but within several hours, he was both mortified and deeply upset to find himself erect, once more, while simply reading a news journal on his cell phone's browser.
At this point, hard as a rock was going to become a lifestyle rather than a life choice, for him. He'd gotten so used to the heat in his veins and the desperate itch within his bones that he'd debated getting tested for rheumatoid arthritis or sarcoidosis, or something. Truly, how silly could it seem to go to a medical professional with a case of Permanent Erection Syndrome, and ask if there was a cure?
No, he was good. He could be a good boy and wait patiently, like a good boy does.
Souichi had class today, as it was a Friday afternoon, and Isogai was finally on his last weekday of his stay. This Sunday afternoon, he would be gone, he would be out of their hair for the time being, though Tetsuhiro hoped it would be closer to an eternity.
That being said, Tetsuhiro was still on leave and was left alone in the apartment for a while, which meant that he could indulge in his very favorite thing, to his every luxury, and that didn't mean fucking himself.
No, rather, Tetsuhiro could finally deep clean the apartment.
Isogai wasn't necessarily messy, but he certainly wasn't tidy, and watching him throw his dirtied clothing to the floor rather than right into the washbasin filled Tetsuhiro with an incessant itch that he could not scratch, and it drove him absolutely nuts.
He finally had time to sanitize the kitchen and restroom surfaces, and could catch up on Souichi's laundry for him, could iron out all of the man's shirts and slacks and freshen them up with their scent-boost powder on the washings shelf. Souichi loves coming home to a clean home, to clean clothes and a clean bed to rest in when his feet were hurting him.
And, well, perhaps if luck was on his side that day, it would put Souichi in a good mood which meant that his boundaries would loosen and perhaps allow Tetsuhiro close to him. If he were to get lucky, that is. Hypothetically.
So, it's as he's reorganizing his spice cabinet and humming himself a chipper little tune that he hears the front door open. His mood instantly elevates, ready as ever to welcome his beautiful partner home with a warm hug and a delicate kiss, and he would smooth a palm down the back of his hair and relish in the way the man would arch back into the touch, mewling softly before he would respond with his own greeting. Then, they would divulge in a pre-portioned meal that Tetsuhiro had set up for them, had timing gotten away from them, and then, perhaps, if luck was on his side -
His smile immediately melts away.
Around Souichi's shoulders hangs a clothed arm, one attached to a tall body capped off by a mop of pale, blonde hair, and a cheeky little grin that makes him sick to his stomach.
"Ah, good evening, Tetsuhiro-kun," Isogai greets him with a lopsided smirk, toeing off his shoes and releasing Souichi's shoulders from his grasp. "You'll have to pardon us - we got caught up having lunch together, and just catching up. I had so much news to share with him about Tomoe-kun and Mitsugu-san - did you know they recently adopted a pet dachshund? I heard they've named her Cookie!"
Tetsuhiro wishes he could focus on the way his partner's cheeks pink in embarrassment, and how he begins to stutter as he rushes to formulate an acceptable explanation. He knows that the man will likely take their arrival out of context, yet does not know how exactly to tame a rabid tiger.
However, all he can think about is how his hopes and dreams for this evening were definitely out of the window, now, for he knows Isogai is going to do what he does best - fucking linger - and that Souichi will keep that wall wedged between them to maintain a substantial distance from himself and Tetsuhiro's sexual appetite.
"Welcome back," he folds his arms and musters up a forced smile, one that makes his cheeks ache with how badly he'd love to drive his fist into Isogai's sharp nose. "I meal-prepped dinner, so I hope you two are hungry."
"Oh?" Souichi says quietly, perking up at the mention of his home-cooked food. "What did you prepare?"
Isogai settles his work bag down in the living area, propping it up against the coffee table, and Tetsuhiro has to swallow down the anger that threatens to rise as he remembers that he's got his laptop, his paperwork, and his work journals in that bag, and is very likely to set up his spread across the glass table and occupy himself all night, instead of leaving.
"There's a selection," he bites out, trying his hardest to tear his eyes from that, and pay attention to his lover instead. "We are all returning to work this week, so I decided to prepare ahead of time, anyway, so you both are welcome to choose what you'd like to eat tonight. There's yakimono, your favorite Okinawa soba recipe, and there's also some chawanmushi chilling in mason jars. If you'd want something lighter, there's plenty of salad mix and fresh radishes in the refrigerator."
Souichi hums in thought, at that, as he adjusts the tie in his hair with lithe hands. "I do really like your Okinawa soba."
He smiles, and has to regret every inch of his being that itches with a desire to caress him along the side of his face, and brush a chaste thumb along the divot of his cheek in adoration. However, despite there being nobody to hold a gun to his head in prevention, he knows that Isogai would never let him live that down. He'd probably take a picture of the event - record it, even - and would send it to all of their friends and family. He wouldn't mind so much if his father, Kanako, or Matsuda-san were to see it, but if Tomoe or Mitsugu had gotten their hands on that photo, Tetsuhiro knows that there would positively be bloodshed in the near future.
Then, their favored roommate-to-be slides into the kitchenette with his socked feet, and peers into Tetsuhiro's fridge for a look of his own. "Whoa, this all looks great!" He announces cheerfully, awestruck. "Hey, if either of you would like something hot and fresh, I make a mean spicy hitsumabushi."
Souichi's brow furrows at that. "Do you know how expensive eel can be?"
"Hey, at least his money goes to food and not to prostitutes," Tetsuhiro comments softly, monotonously, and he's sure that Souichi had to be holding back laughter, if the small, choked snort that he was granted as a response, was any indication.
"How rude," Isogai sighs, standing straight and shutting the fridge door. "You can get it discounted if you buy it in bulk, and I just so happen to like eel."
Tetsuhiro nods curtly, pursing his lips. "I have heard it's not the greatest seafood out there for you, though. Careful how much you're eating."
"It can also be toxic if you undercook it even a little bit," Souichi agrees, crossing his arms over his chest. "What, are you trying to kill me, now? Trying to take my room away, here, so you can move in?"
His jaw slightly drops, then, as the two men seem to suddenly gang up on him together. What gives? He hadn't done anything wrong or crossed any boundaries, lately, and had even offered to cook supper! What could he have possibly done to deserve being bullied while standing in somebody else's kitchenette?
Well, two could certainly play that game, and Isogai may just have a few sneaky little tricks up his sleeve.
"Souichi-kun," he hums out, the corner of his lips curving up in a slight smirk. "What if I had been plotting to take your spot, here, and become Tetsuhiro's roommate, myself?"
A frown. A snap of a head around to meet his eye in shock. "What are you on about, now?" Souichi snips in a low tone, his eyes beginning to narrow and darken slightly.
Then, that expression makes an ugly return, and Tetsuhiro's expression hardens. There's that smirk, followed by those content, sneaky little eyes that Isogai gets on when he's up to no good, when he's got words along that wicked tongue that would be best left unsaid. It's the look that Tetsuhiro dreads on Souichi's behalf - the gossipy look, the one that makes his blood run cold and the hairs on his nape stand up on end.
"Be honest, Souichi-kun," Isogai drawls cheekily, leaning a folded elbow against the lip of the washbasin, where he leans his weight against the cutlery drawers and prepares the whole room for whatever is about to come out of his mouth. "What if I was looking to take your spot as Tetsuhiro's roommate?"
It's comical, really, how they react. A slight grimace crosses Tetsuhiro's face where the man stands broad and tall above Souichi, the muscles around his nostrils indenting, and Souichi's lips curl back to show his straight teeth, with an expression that looks as if he was about to be sick. "I beg your pardon?" Souichi asks almost regretfully, his voice tight as though it pains him to speak.
"Please don't elaborate," Tetsuhiro holds up a palm, having to press his fingers to his temple to alleviate the migraine that begins to impound itself inside his head. "I don't want to know what you mean, because we both know that's never going to happen."
"You may want to slow your roll, there," Isogai croons in that cloyingly sweet way of his, and it turns Tetsuhiro's stomach. Swiftly, he returns his eyes to Souichi's. "What I mean to say is, you've got yourself a pretty sweet deal here, Souichi-kun. It seems like you have delicious food at your every beck and call, everything is nice and tidy, linens are spotless."
He illustrates his argument with a flamboyant wave of the hand, gesturing around the room as he outlines the pros to the apartment's hygiene. Souichi doesn't need to be told all of the above; he knows. He's the one who lays in said linens every night, and eats said food every morning and evening. He's clueless as to what he's trying to get at, here, by stating the very obvious, but Souichi has nothing better to do than listen.
"And," Isogai continues as he pulls his hand dramatically back, as though he were being filmed. Sighing delicately, he meets Souichi's eye, and Souichi has half a mind to break the fourth wall right then and there and rip the kitchenette apart to find wherever Isogai had hidden this camera. "You have someone to tend to your every need, hmm?"
He hears rather than sees Tetsuhiro stiffen, hears the sharp, shaky inhale through the nose and can only imagine the way his gut must be coiled, right now. Heat floods Souichi from nape to his mid back, raising gooseflesh all along his skin until he feels cold and clammy, as though he were about to faint. "What are you trying to say?" He growls out with a warning tone, genuinely frightened as to where this conversation is headed, now.
"Don't," Tetsuhiro warns. "Don't you dare."
However, they must underestimate the strength that the man's pride carries, for Isogai definitely does not back down. "I think you know what I mean, Souichi-kun," he grins, moving himself to the island to prop his elbows up onto it and rest his chin on his palms, leaving him face-to-face with Souichi, with only the island between them and Tetsuhiro at their side. "I suppose you must think me simple, that I must be someone who doesn't notice the hickeys that you hide under your collar, and the way you sometimes stumble in your gait in the afterthought mornings."
He knew it was coming, and it comes as very little surprise when Souichi flushes dark red, all the way to his collarbones, and curls up his fists at his sides. "What the fuck are you on about, you freak?" He shouts, gritting his teeth, and Tetsuhiro's eyebrows raise slightly as he takes a half-step back.
It's the first time, all week, that he's seen Souichi truly angry, but he also knows just how much Souichi detests having his private life blasted publicly for all to see, which is half the reason Tetsuhiro wishes that Isogai would just fucking disappear so he could leave them alone.
"No need to get defensive," Isogai holds up both palms in a show of sincerity and innocence. "You know that I don't judge."
"You've got nothing to judge him for, so don't even try," Tetsuhiro interjects, then. "You think Hiroto doesn't tell me about you slipping your number to him on the back of your tabs?"
It takes a pregnant pause for Isogai to process his next thoughts, but it must not be too hard to formulate a sufficient one, for he purses his lips and gives Tetsuhiro a curious look. "Oh, I'm sure Hiroto-kun loves talking about me, and the stories that I share with him. Ah, I'd told him a great one just last week - I believe it was the time that Souichi had fainted, and had been losing weight quite quickly, and our precious little Tetsuhiro nursed him back to health, spoon-feeding him in bed?"
The grinding of teeth. "That never happened!"
An exasperated sigh. "I didn't spoon-feed him!"
"Oh," Isogai moans dramatically, ignoring their complaints. "And he just loved hearing about the incident of Tetsuhiro falling sick recently - oh! And, if my memory doesn't slip me, I believe our little Souichi-kun ran off to nurse him back to health, and came home… limping."
There's a flurry of quick movement, then, as Souichi practically flies around Tetsuhiro's backside before he can even register it happening, plants two hands upon the man's chest, and shoves him backwards into the overhanging lamp. It dings into Isogai's head with a resounding echo, causing him to hiss and grasp at his hair.
"Nobody asked you!" The blond yells in the quiet of their once-peaceful kitchenette. "Why do you care so much about what I do in my time? If you're so preoccupied with what other people do, you need to get a fucking hobby, you jackass!"
Tetsuhiro can sense it before he sees it, the curling of Souichi's fists, the cording of the extensor muscles in his forearm. He's going to hit him.
The hand winds up and back, causing Isogai to flinch - and Tetsuhiro catches it, in a calm, broad hand.
"Don't," he mutters quietly, calmly, the gentle force needed to quell this sudden tiff. "Don't give him what he wants, Souichi-san."
As though disappointed, it's several seconds before Isogai's shoulders deflate, and he slowly dusts himself off as he stands to full height, then, and gathers his wits about him.
Still, Souichi is appalled, offended, and irate. The amount of disrespect a person had to have to waltz into somebody else's home, and not only eat their food and use their supplies, not only overstay their welcome, but to stick their nose where it didn't belong? That was asinine! Who does that?
He's been trying to work on his anger, he has, and in all fairness, the sex has been helping him keep his mind clear. It's quite obvious that the lack of it, lately, due to having a sudden third party in their apartment at every waking moment, has caused him to become riled up, again, but you'd have to pry that information from Souichi's cold, dead hands.
"I'm taking a shower," he bites out angrily, shoving brusquely past him as their shoulders knock into each other, and Tetsuhiro can practically see the steam pouring out from inside the man's ears as he storms away. All is quiet as he pads down the small hallway, before he slams the bathroom door behind himself, and Tetsuhiro releases a tense sigh.
He just hopes that the slam didn't break anything on the door, or pull it off of its hinges.
"Can't you just keep things to yourself?" The man forces himself to ask, as he pinches the bridge of his nose. "God, my head fucking hurts."
However, Isogai does not apologize. Does not grovel. Does not lay down and cry, does not back away, does not even seem the littlest bit rueful for what he'd done, just then. Instead, he is simply grinning away cheerfully, like he had just snagged the promotion he had worked his ass off for.
"You don't even care," Tetsuhiro notes flatly. "Do you?"
That makes the man chuckle to himself, and he leans back onto his forearms as they make steady eye contact. "Tetsuhiro-kun," he says tenderly. "Do you honestly think that I would go as far as to replace Souichi-kun in a life such as yours?"
He shrugs. "Wouldn't put it past you."
"I mean," he points out with another gesture of his hand, "you do already know that I've… how did you put it the other day? Got a raging hard-on for a little slender thing with a knack for drinking?"
Tetsuhiro does not say anything for a moment, because the puzzle pieces slowly begin to click into place. "You were testing me?"
Isogai shakes his head. "Nope. Just needed to get rid of Souichi-kun, for a moment, and uh… get him riled up, for you."
He frowns, then, that same grimace returning to his face as his eyebrows arch downwards. Something about Isogai discussing the topic of sex with someone like him, about someone like Souichi, feels so icky and forbidden. It feels like having a peeping Tom watching you, whenever you do something worthwhile. "Why? Why do you - " he begins to ask, then releases the breath having wedged itself taught within his lungs, and decides that arguing any further with this sleazeball of a man is not worth it. "You know what? I don't think I want to know."
Said sleazeball stands straight, then, slides one hand in his pocket, and leans in to lay the other upon Tetsuhiro's meaty shoulder. "I'm going out tonight," he whispers into the man's ear, his voice firm and intentional. "It's my last night here, before my train in the morning to return home. You'd be silly to not use the alone time… wisely."
His sentence is punctuated with a series of encouraging pats on the back, and Tetsuhiro's breaths suddenly begin to shudder.
He set them up.
After what felt like weeks of torturing them with his presence, of blue-balling Tetsuhiro until he was going out of his mind with lust and felt like clawing down all of the wallpaper like a rabid fox - he had set them up, as a reward.
"You're insane," Tetsuhiro says in astonishment, a slight flush having risen to his cheeks. He just prays that Isogai doesn't decide to glance down at any point in the near future, or this already-awkward interaction is going to get a lot more awkward.
Yet all he gets is a smirk, and a dignified salute with a straight, wrinkle-free hand. "Don't break the furniture, Tetsuhiro-kun."
They don't ask where Isogai is headed.
He practically slams Souichi back against the wall, covering his mouth with his own in desperation, and shivers when the man's creamy, startled moans slither into his own, the sound vibrating against his hungry lips. He's waited for this for so long, for too long.
The man brings a bag with him - a briefcase? A satchel? A knapsack? Something.
He's gasping into Tetsuhiro's mouth as the man's thigh presses between his legs, and Souichi can't help but shakily rut against it. He needs friction, he needs more. "Please," is all he can manage, right now, as fingers trail down the man's shirt until they come upon the hem of his jeans. "Can we… get comfortable, at least?"
Stumbling into a pause, Tetsuhiro nearly drops him out of the sheer shock coursing through him. Since when is Souichi needy?
He's trembling, he knows he is, but he would never drop him on his ass. He keeps him firmly against the wall, hoisted up by a strong thigh between his loins, and bracketing him in with warm, broad hands. Undressing was the last thing on Tetsuhiro's mind, but he certainly wouldn't mind taking his pants off, at the very least.
Isogai hadn't given them a time bracket, either.
He presses soft, whispering kisses to Souichi's touch-rouged lips, enamoring him with his everlasting affection and soon-to-be everlasting cock, as he lifts him up and carries him over to the loveseat. Souichi doesn't frighten anymore, now that he knows that Tetsuhiro would never allow him to get hurt. The cushions are soft against his back as he's laid down onto them. The man settles himself into the space between his thighs, kneeling over him like a predator hunting down their prey, and Souichi's cheeks darken as he catches a glimpse of his very erect arousal within his underwear, spread across his lap.
He was going to Adamsite for some drinks, so Tetsuhiro was rather comfortable assuming he'd be back late. If Hiroto were to invite him back to his own place, then Isogai may not come back at all.
"You're so beautiful," Tetsuhiro breathes out, skirting careful hands along Souichi's exposed skin. His partner shudders and mewls, then, and he thinks his Souichi-san paints just the prettiest picture. Delicate, creamy skin muddied by kiss marks all along his clavicles and breastbone, legs splayed on either side of Tetsuhiro's hips, his reddened, swollen cock leaking against his taut belly, his loose hair waterfalling down along the pillow. He's gorgeous like this, and Tetsuhiro knows he looks even better when he's worked up and open. "I've been waiting to have you like this all week."
Souichi has to be careful what he says, and has to gauge his own reactions. Me too, flashes at the forefront of his mind, and he glances away in embarrassment as darkened eyes rake down his form. He's not donned a stitch of clothing, while his partner remains fully clothed, albeit threadbare. "Don't be too rough, please," he states with a nervous swallow. "I do have work tomorrow."
It wasn't exactly on Tetsuhiro's agenda, but then again, who's to say things will stay simply vanilla?
He shudders out an uneasy breath as he soaks in the sight before him, and realizes he has no idea where to even start.
This was a gift, so he was meant to savor it, after all.
"Hello?" Souichi asks quietly, curling fingers near his lips as he watches him carefully. "Earth to Tetsuhiro?"
His hands tremble where they skirt along the smooth skin of Souichi's thighs. It's been a while, so he doesn't want to hurt him. He needs to pace himself, because he's not the one on the bottom.
"Hey," he hears again, and realizes that Souichi is talking to him. "If you're just going to leave me like this, I'll go take care of it myself."
Oh.
No, they can't have that.
He's wordless as he moves downward on the sofa, then, and yanks the man by the hips. Souichi lets out a startled squawk and grapples for purchase on the cushions, unsure if he was going to fall. "What the fuck?" He complains.
Tetsuhiro keeps his eyes on his prize, as he carefully parts Souichi's knees and hooks both of his bare thighs over his shoulders. He hears the way Souichi whimpers between breaths, and feels the way his skin seems to vibrate in excitement. And, quite frankly, he knows how much Souichi likes it when someone goes down on him.
He teases him with the tip of a moist tongue, relishes in the desperate, broken wail of a moan that he's rewarded with, and resists fucking his own hips downward for friction as Souichi bucks against his face. "S-sorry," Souichi stammers out without looking at him, resorting to covering his eyes with his curled hands. "Are you okay?"
Tetsuhiro doesn't respond, and slides the tip along the length of his tongue once more. Souichi's head falls back as a low rumble arises within the man's chest. He watches him carefully with darkened eyes, wants to make sure that this was as enjoyable for him as it was for Tetsuhiro.
He switches it up a little bit, and presses the tip of a stiffened tongue to the knot of nerves just beneath the head of the man's cock, and Souichi's body surges up. "Oh - fuck," comes tumbling out of his throat, guttural and desperate, and Tetsuhiro presses a large palm to his own erection for at least a little bit of relief. "Fuck, fuck," Souichi pants out between whimpers, cording his hands into the man's hair for something to hold onto.
However, his partner reels it all back in, then, and pulls his mouth off of him entirely. His body relaxes back into the cushions with a very vocal shudder, and his hands twitch at his sides in desperation to get himself off.
He makes the timeless mistake of looking downward, however, and has to avert his eyes after what he sees.
Tetsuhiro is making direct eye contact with him, his gaze rich and licentious and dark, his warm hands keeping hold of him upon his thighs and just the wicked tip of such a filthy tongue slowly, maddeningly tracing along that knot of nerves.
"Tetsu - " he whimpers out, a shaky hand moving downward to find him as he looks away and closes his eyes. "You - please, just - "
"Hmm?"
He doesn't dignify him with an actual response, merely peruses him with another flick of the tongue and a curious hum. The vibration from the sound must have traveled, for Souichi's knees knock into the sides of his head, just then.
Fuck, how is Tetsuhiro so lucky? If taking Souichi fully apart and bringing him to the lengths of his withdrawal was this addicting, he couldn't even wait to find out what it'd be like when they got into the meat and potatoes of this. He knows they've never done this before, but Tetsuhiro is just itching to try.
He doesn't give Souichi much warning or preamble, then, pulling back and sliding his hands upwards to cup his rear with both palms, and curls the man's hips into more of an upward position. The unfamiliarity causes the blond to glance down at him with watery, glimmering eyes, unsure of what his partner was doing.
However, Tetsuhiro doesn't have the time for explanations, and dips his head right in to slide the flat of his tongue against Souichi's hole.
The broken gasp that wrenches itself from the man's throat is one he's not sure he's heard before, high-pitched and warbling as his body jolts and his thighs shake. He tries to shy away from the sensation, tries to pry his hips from the man's vice grip, but to no avail.
"D-don't," he chokes out, trembling. "Why - why there?"
This time, however, Tetsuhiro does pull back after several indecent, indulgent licks. "What's wrong?" He asks thickly, arousal soaked into the edges of his voice and causing it to deepen. "Won't let daddy taste your little pussy?"
As soon as the words are out of his mouth, the air around them changes, and Tetsuhiro feels the beginnings of dread start to creep into the orifices of his gut. That absolutely could have been the worst thing to say in that situation, for he knows how Souichi feels about sex. Sex to him is always casual, comfortable, but never spicy. He very well could have just ruined the mood, very well could be setting himself up for a black-eye and no ass, tonight.
In fact, he finds himself afraid to look Souichi in the eye, worried about what he may find.
Though, it's been rather quiet.
He decides to brave it and tests the waters as a big, brave boy, and glances upward to find Souichi's gaze, and - oh.
Souichi's gaze is wet, glassy, and strong. He's not thrashing, he's not looking to pull away or run to his room, and he's definitely not plotting an internal homicide. He's looking right at him, watching, waiting. He's listening.
Oh.
Tetsuhiro returns his gaze back to his meal, and arches a single eyebrow as he traces Souichi's anus with the pad of his thumb. "Hmm? You're quiet, suddenly. Want something?"
He watches as the blond's lips part silently, a tremor to them as they fumble for words, but to little avail. "I… I didn't ask… to stop."
Ah, there's his incredible, wonderful Souichi-san.
He hums to himself contentedly, and delicately licks around his rim with just the tip of his tongue, in the same manner he had the head of his cock, simply stimulating the nerves without giving Souichi the indulgence he so craves. "Does my baby need something in his aching pussy? Hm?" After just a moment, the hips he's holding begin to tremble, and he can hear the way Souichi starts swallowing his moans behind a teeth-bitten hand. That was typically the clearest type of consent that his partner was comfortable giving, and Tetsuhiro was more than happy to deliver.
He dove in this time like a man starved, kissing and licking and fucking his tongue into the man's sphincter to delve deeper. Souichi's hands wind into his own hair, at some point, tugging the blonde strands with each pleasured wail he emits and with each tear that falls. He's met with a little bit of resistance, before the muscles slacken and give way, allowing the wet, slithering organ to explore further.
Then it becomes less kissing and more tongue-fucking, humming against his hole as he mimics what his cock would do if it were in the same place, and Souichi begins to huff out short, choppy breaths as he fucks his hips down for more stimulation, a sign that he was about to cum.
There's no way Souichi would last if Tetsuhiro didn't let him release some of that tension, so he brings a chaste hand up to graze the pad of a thumb over the knot of nerves under the head of the man's cock, and Souichi is choking on a scream as he goes taut like a piano wire, and cums.
He's sobbing through it, white streaking across his belly and up to his clavicles as Tetsuhiro's tongue doesn't stop, doesn't stop fucking him, doesn't stop undulating against his sensitive rim.
Then he does stop, all too soon, and hoists himself up onto his haunches.
He's sweating, he's aroused, and he feels inches away from spontaneous combustion.
His movements are quick as he wrenches his pants open and pulls the band of his underwear down. He'd gotten hard enough from their foreplay that the front of his underwear had become damp, though he'd prefer to keep that little detail to himself and away from Isogai, at all costs.
"Tell me if it hurts," Tetsuhiro offers him calmly as he palms his cock in his hand, a much different countenance than the one he'd held just seconds before. Carefully, he lines himself up, and slides a smaller sofa pillow underneath Souichi's hips to elevate them. "Okay?"
Souichi doesn't shy away from him or try to leave after that first orgasm, like he typically would. In fact, his partner actually seems… entranced?
Shuddering, he nods, and Tetsuhiro presses in.
God, he's soaking wet inside and as warm as the thick of summertime, and Tetsuhiro would very willingly melt into him if he were given the chance. The stretch causes Souichi to gasp and tense up around him, so Tetsuhiro delves forward and gingerly wipes away the tears that have leaked out of closed eyelids and streaked down flushed cheeks. "You're okay," he whispers tenderly, pressing warm kisses to the man's sweat-laden forehead and cheekbones.
When his hips meet the skin of Souichi's ass, they settle for just a moment to catch their breath. Mewls and whimpers escape him as he warms up to the feeling of being impaled, of being filled. It doesn't hurt, necessarily, but it had certainly been a while, so it's an adjustment. Souichi just needs a minute to recoup.
However, Tetsuhiro doesn't seem to have a minute, if the veins streaking up his pelvis and toward his belly button were any indication. "I'm going to move, now."
Briefly, Souichi's eyes open to meet his own, before the first thrust overtakes him, and sends Souichi careening.
It's messy, it's rough, and Tetsuhiro can feel his eyes attempting to roll into the back of his head at how good he feels. It had been too long since he'd had Souichi around him, soft and tight and wet and everything Tetsuhiro could want, right now. He settles into a seated position, like the one they had been when they'd first laid onto the couch, fucking up into his partner's body with his hips in his lap.
This position had allowed for an almost direct shot of Souichi's prostate, if his screams of pleasure were anything but a sign.
He was absolutely beautiful like this, unhinged and free, as he balls up his fists in his own hair and arches, every muscle in his body pulled taut as the head of the man's cock grazes his prostate on each thrust, helplessly grunting and wailing as the sounds are punched right out of him. The man fucks into him like he's got a grudge against him, like he's mad at him, and Souichi is so fucking into it. He'd do anything to keep this rhythm up, as long as Tetsuhiro keeps using him like this.
"That's it," Tetsuhiro rasps out between thrusts, gazing down at him as his hair sticks to his forehead and the muscles in his thighs flex with each press forward. "You like daddy's big cock in your pussy, don't you? Like a dick inside you."
He moans in desperation, unseeing as the fine tremble in his hips quickly shifts into something more akin to a downward thrust, impaling himself on every push. Fuck, fuck, he's not going to last.
Then, Tetsuhiro's ears catch the sound of the door latch undoing itself, and everything stops.
He slams a hand down quickly to stop their movements and glances over his shoulder, his heart suddenly rabbiting in his chest as though a police brigade, or even Kanako-chan, were to come walking through that door.
Worse yet, it's Isogai who walks back into their porch, toeing off his shoes, and Tetsuhiro fucking prays he's not staying. There's no way he's staying. He can't be staying.
"Sorry, I'm only back for a moment," Isogai tells him without much eye contact, something that he truly cherishes, right then. "I'd gotten halfway through a highball when I'd realized that I forgot my wallet in the kitchen drawer."
Tetsuhiro rolls his eyes. "Great job, genius."
"Sorry, sorry," Isogai apologizes. "I know you wanted to enjoy your evening."
True to his word, Isogai does not linger, for the first fucking time in forever. He grabs his wallet from the drawer, closes it, and heads right back to the porch to put his shoes back on.
"Oh, Tetsuhiro-kun," he says right before he leaves, glancing over his shoulder to meet his eye. "Did you want me to bring you back anything? You know Hiroto-kun would put it on his own tab, for you. Hm?"
A shiver runs down his spine as Souichi's anal muscles contract around him, and he flinches slightly as his fingernails dig into the meat of Tetsuhiro's forearms. "No, I'm alright," Tetsuhiro manages. "Thanks, though."
The man shrugs. "Alright, not a problem. Have a good evening, Tetsuhiro-kun."
Once more, the door closes, latches, and the sweet, cherished sound of silence befalls them once more.
All of the pent-up anxiety he'd felt just then leaves his chest in one big breath, rushing out of his lungs as though it were ripping them apart. With a much calmer gut, Tetsuhiro can focus once more on resuming their activities, as he's sure Souichi is likely not pleased that they'd had to stop right when he'd begun to plateau.
He glances down, and nearly cums right then and there.
Souichi's biting down on his bottom lip to stifle any sounds, his face and chest still blood-darkened, but Tetsuhiro is more distracted by the way the man is gyrating onto him. He's thrusting downwards, curling his hips in small, shoddy circles, anything he can think of to get that stimulation back. When Tetsuhiro looks closer, he notices something… glistening upon Souichi's abdomen, and his breaths fall short.
"Did you just…?" He trails off when he realizes just what he'd slammed his hand onto, as well.
When he'd thrusted his right palm downward to stop their coitus before they'd gotten caught, he'd thought that he would have landed on Souichi's thigh, on his hip, on anything other than landing right on the middle of his lower abdomen, right where the head of Tetsuhiro's cock bulges up and into his sweet spot. The added pressure from his hand had essentially sandwiched the man's prostate between two planes of pressure, and Souichi was gone.
He couldn't stop, couldn't stop shaking, couldn't stop moving, fucking his hips down and trying to get something similar to what he'd just had taken from him. Then, the floodgates open, and his partner begins to sob in pleasure, as his cock begins to jerk and clear liquid streaks up onto his chin and drips down his neck.
Tetsuhiro heaves out a low breath at the sight, for it's actually quite impressive. This had to be the first time he'd watched Souichi get himself off, and if he'd known that the secret to gaining such a sight was to edge him until he couldn't take it anymore, he'd have done this a long time ago.
His cries turn into mewls, and Tetsuhiro offers him up a broad, meaty hand, allows him to press soft, kittenish kisses to the side of his thumb before he dips the digit past his wet lips.
"Don't get too comfortable," Tetsuhiro says in a low, calm down. "I'm not finished with you, yet."
He grins to himself in the chill of the nighttime air, as he cracks his window and turns down the radio's speaker. Smoke billows from his lips as he pulls the cigarette back, and exhales into the dark.
Souichi really needed to learn how to be quieter, or at least, soundproof every wall in their apartment.