Chapter 4

The following day, Kichijouji reported to the art club for the first time. All students were required to pick at least one club to join, and Kosuke had invited Kichijouji to the art one. Kichijouji enjoyed art, but considering all the time he spent on magic research, he had little time for it. As a result, he jumped on the opportunity to stretch his art skills.

When he agreed to the club, he'd had no idea that the time slot would conflict with Masaki's club. Masaki had wanted him to join the culture club. However, Masaki had been a good sport about it, so Kichijouji entered the club room without a trace of guilt. Easels had been set up around the room, and Kosuke introduced Kichijouji to everyone before gesturing to the easel beside his.

Kichijouji plopped onto the stool that had been provided. Some of the other students were standing, but Kichijouji preferred to sit. He hadn't worked with watercolors for so long he was embarrassed for anyone to see his work.

Kosuke stood and worked with oil paints on one of the still life arrangements set up around the room. "So, have you talked to Ichijou?"

"About what?" Kichijouji opted to play coy, although he suspected he knew exactly what Kosuke meant. He glanced around furtively, but the other students were chatting and joking as they worked. He opened a case of color tubes the school had provided and picked through them.

Kosuke raised his eyebrows in an expression of polite concern. "I thought for certain Ichijou would want to talk to you about his feelings after how jealous he got yesterday. Am I wrong?"

There were times Kichijouji wanted to curse the fact he always blushed easily, and the pale complexion of his skin always made the blushes that much more obvious. He swallowed a sigh as his cheeks burned. He decided he would try to dodge. "You think Masaki was jealous of the bento you made me?"

"Very," Kosuke virtually purred. He smiled.

Kichijouji just knew his blush had to be one shade darker now. "Masaki takes good care of me," he dodged again. Then he nearly choked on his own spit. The phrase 'taking good care of' could certainly be construed as sexual in nature.

Kosuke glanced at the others in the room. They were still chatting between each other, not paying the least attention to Kichijouji or him. He looked back at Kichijouji and murmured, "But does he love you?"

Kichijouji nearly died. Shit! He really did take it sexually. "I didn't mean it in that way!" he hissed. "And yes, he does love me."

"Ah." Kosuke concentrated on his painting for a few moments, carefully adding dimension to the fruit in the still life. He smiled slightly again, his gaze still on his work. "Then I have competition."

Kichijouji forced himself to start creating his palette. For a moment, he imagined two incredibly handsome boys vying for the right to take him on a date. It made him feel guilty, but part of him was deeply flattered. He had a short daydream in which Kosuke kissed him, and as a result Masaki faced off with Kosuke, publically declaring his feelings and then whisking Kichijouji off to a private place. They would share several passionate kisses, and Masaki would tell him again how special he was . . .

Two very long minutes passed before Kichijouji realized he'd failed to reply to Kosuke.

"I'll take that as permission to try," Kosuke said lightly.

Kichijouji snapped out of his dream world and slanted Kosuke a flat gaze. "I am with Masaki." The boldness of the declaration made his heart thud.

"If you're sure, I won't stand in your way," Kosuke said. He worked on his painting. "But as my parents say, we're a long way from marrying age. Many things might change in the meantime." He winked at Kichijouji. "I can marry who I wish. Can you?"

Kichijouji had almost gotten his paint brush to the canvas, only to end up stopping an inch shy. His gaze ended up pinned to the white, blank material. "My parents simply told me to find a good man and be happy." In his mind, he saw his mother's understanding smile. He lowered his brush. The weight of knowing that his parents would never meet any of his boyfriends or his future husband settled on Kichijouji squarely.

Kosuke set down his brush and rested his hand on Kichijouji's shoulder. "They sound wonderful. I'm sorry I reminded you of your grief. That wasn't my intention."

Kichijouji glanced up at him. "Yeah. They were wonderful. The Ichijous are really kind, but they can't actually replace my parents. I'm grateful that they saved me. More than I can say. But that doesn't mean I don't miss my parents. Of course."

"Of course," Kosuke echoed. "You don't have to try to erase your parents out of gratitude to anyone. That would be wrong." He squeezed Kichijouji's shoulder gently. "You're allowed to miss your parents forever. I know I would miss mine forever."

Kichijouji gave Kosuke a small smile. Even though Kosuke was apparently dead set on competing with Masaki to date him, Kichijouji had to admit that Kosuke was understanding and kind. And Kosuke had claimed, at least, that they could be friends, regardless. "Thank you."

Kosuke inclined his head. "It's nothing. Even if you spend the rest of your life with Ichijou, I'll still care about you. I've never met anyone like you before, and I know I won't again." His lips quirked. "My future boyfriends will have to hear about you. I hope they can endure the comparison."

Kichijouji understood in that moment that Kosuke was probably the most suave and debonair boy he'd ever met. If Kichijouji hadn't already been in love with Masaki, he would have been swept off his feet by this guy. This is not going to be pretty. Kosuke really will go toe-to-toe with Masaki. Once again, he had a guilty flash of feeling complimented. At the same time, he was uneasy about what the competition might devolve into.

Considering he'd just buried his parents a few weeks ago, Kichijouji didn't remotely have enough energy to deal with the situation. Masaki and Kosuke can face off. I won't intervene until I have more energy back.

Still, Kichijouji managed to muster some pluck. "They might punch you in the nose for making them listen to you babble about some mystery boy." His lips quirked.

Kosuke laughed.

Once time was up, Kichijouji cleaned and stored his supplies. Kosuke was determined to escort Kichijouji to wherever Masaki was waiting for him, and he didn't listen to Kichijouji's protests. By this point in the afternoon, Kichijouji was tired and hungry and not up to the task of fending off Kosuke's bulldozer full of charm.

They exited the club room together and discovered Masaki out in the hallway, leaning against a window with his arms crossed.

Masaki pushed away from the wall with a grin and put his hand on Kichijouji's shoulder. "Ah, there you are. I'm hungry! Aren't you? I'm glad we're meeting everybody at the café." He offered Kosuke a small bow. "Maybe you can join us some other time. If you're going to be friends with Jouji, then we're going to be good friends, too." He'd been thinking of this strategy all day.

Kichijouji looked between the two taller boys. For a moment, he imagined two tomcats: one solid black with blue eyes and the other a reddish-orange tabby with green eyes. The cats glared at each other, silently marking off their territory. They hunkered down, growling deep in their chests, except the tabby was somehow managing to wear a smiling theater mask at the same time.

"I'm starving," Kichijouji admitted, ignoring the fluffed up fur and bared fangs.

Masaki linked arms with Kichijouji and made off with him. "Then we'll see you later!" he called at Kosuke and waved.

Kichijouji allowed himself to be whisked away. Having his arm linked with Masaki's in public was plenty enough of a payoff for having two tomcats growling over him like he was a female cat in heat.

Once they were in the stairwell, Kichijouji grinned up at Masaki. "It's amazing how you can smile while pissed off. You smile when challenged, you smile when fighting back. Most of the time, you seem unflappable." Except when we're at home and you're stuttering over our secret romance.

Masaki laughed. "That's just how I am. Like how you have a little frown on your face when you're working out high-level science. Other people might think you're grumpy, but you're just on the trail of an exciting idea."

Kichijouji grinned at him again, touched. You notice small details about me. You do love me! "Yeah. Apparently I do that. My mom said so, too." He gave Masaki's arm a squeeze. "Are we really meeting up with everyone at a café? Or did you just say that to get rid of Rokugo?"

"You got me. I just said we were meeting everybody so Rokugo wouldn't invite himself to our after-school meal. He would, too. Pushy jerk. Although I really meant it when I said I'd get to know him. I want to know everything I can about my competition."

They had made it into the front courtyard by this point, but at Masaki's final sentence, Kichijouji stopped in his tracks. "You admitted it," he said, shocked. "You—you came right out and said it." He realized then just how much he needed to hear it aloud. Better yet, this meant Masaki was conscious of both his feelings and what they meant. "You admitted he's competing with you to be—" Here he choked on the word. But he powered ahead, taking a page out of Kosuke's book. He blushed hotly. "To be my boyfriend."

Masaki flushed. "I-I never meant it to seem like I didn't know how I felt. I just can't…get the words out." He scowled with determination. "But I'll rot in hell before I let Rokugo win. I'm not giving you up!"

Kichijouji was so thrilled by Masaki's declaration that he laughed. "Good! Don't give me up. All I want is to be with you." The words just popped right out. He would have given anything to be in a private place so they could hug or, better yet, kiss.

Masaki clasped Kichijouji's hand tightly. "You'll be by my side forever. I'll make a way for that to be true."

At having his hand clasped, Kichijouji shot across the courtyard, taking the least occupied route off of school grounds. He wanted to hold Masaki's hand, and he wanted to do it with as a few observers as possible. Public displays of affection were not allowed on school property, after all, and he didn't want them to get jumped by the disciplinary committee.

Once they were safely off on a side street and away from the prying eyes of their classmates, Kichijouji relaxed and squeezed Masaki's hand. "Good," he murmured again. "I want us to be together when we're old and gray and wrinkly and stubborn. And insisting on taking the hottest soaks that any hot spring can offer."

Masaki laughed. "You'll work out the best health benefits and make sure we always go to the right places. I'll make sure we always get private rooms so no one bothers us."

A happy blush lit Kichijouji's cheeks as he imagined what having a private room would entail. "Yes." He squeezed Masaki's hand. Maybe that first kiss would be coming sooner rather than later.

To Kichijouji's shock, Masaki took him to a rather frilly café in the European tradition. They sat down at a small, round table with wrought iron chairs and were served water and black tea by a girl in a stylized knee-length dress and apron. When she set the menus down, Kichijouji discovered it was in French as well as Japanese.

"Get whatever you want," Masaki said. "They have really good food here."

"All right. Thank you." Kichijouji stared at the menu, hardly able to focus on the selections because of the sudden reality of his situation: he was on a date. With Masaki. The utterly stunning nature of it made his heart pound.

When the server returned, Kichijouji ordered a sampler of French macaroons. He'd never had them before, and most of the flavors sounded good.

Masaki ordered a French style meal of wagyu beef steak, asparagus, potatoes, and carrots. "You should try the steak. It's very good. I think it's the best in the city."

Kichijouji caved in and ordered the smallest steak on the menu. He felt bad about having Masaki spend so much money on him on a first date, but he consoled himself with the knowledge that Masaki's family was rich. They wouldn't even blink.

"This is nice," Kichijouji murmured once the server had departed. He felt self-conscious but pleased. "I've never been on a date before, but I can say this place is amazing."

Masaki grinned. When no one was watching, he dared to reach across and squeeze Kichijouji's hand. "I really like you." That was easier to say now that Kichijouji had said the word 'date.'

Kichijouji immediately rested his free hand over Masaki's. "I really like you, too." That was an understatement. "When we get home, can we go to your room? You know . . . and be alone for awhile?"

Masaki nodded without hesitation. "Yeah!" He hastily took his hand back when the server returned with the macaroons and the dinners. He shot Kichijouji an apologetic look. "When we're home, we can do whatever we want to do."

Kichijouji felt a touch of sly boldness zip through him. He gave Masaki a wicked little grin. "Maybe I should keep some of the macaroons and take them home, then. Once we're in your room, I could feed a few to you."

Masaki flushed crimson. "M-maybe." He imagined Kichijouji's delicate fingers slowly sliding a macaroon into his mouth and shot halfway hard. He wanted to groan. He just as torturously imagined Kichijouji's fingers getting sticky and painstakingly licking them clean. That was an obvious substitute for other things, but he didn't think he'd have the courage to do that yet. After all, having sex before marriage was harshly discouraged, and though he wanted to, he was equally terrified of being caught, shamed, and punished.

Kichijouji's grin widened. "Hm. I think I will, then." He peered at the six macaroons, all of which were a different color and flavor. "What's your favorite flavor, Masaki?" he murmured, his voice nearly a purr.

"Chocolate," Masaki mumbled. He was miserable and thrilled at the same time. Miserable because he was filled with squirming embarrassment and thrilled because Kichijouji was flirting with him.

"Mm." Kichijouji delicately plucked out the chocolate one and set it aside. "Mine is raspberry." He shot Masaki a look from under his eyelashes and then plucked out the red one, setting it aside also.

Masaki grinned. Do I get to feed you, too? Do we feed each other? He was ridiculously happy as he cut his steak.

Kichijouji chuckled and cut a piece off his steak. He was smiling so hard it was difficult to chew, and he felt the happy blush warming his cheeks. "This will never get old," he said once he'd swallowed. "Even when we're eighty years old, it will still be great to go out and eat with you." Having lost his parents, he was determined to keep Masaki—no matter what it took.

Masaki smiled. "Yeah. It will be. It'll never stop being special."

They ate their meal in silence after that, gazing adoringly into each other's eyes in a way Masaki felt must be obvious, but he couldn't bring himself to care. The only thing he did regret was that Kichijouji liked the macaroons so much that they ended up eating them all.

On the way home, they held hands, even though they ducked into back streets and glanced over their shoulders at times. As soon as they reached the house, they said good evening to Masaki's mom, got informed supper was in three hours, and raced up to Masaki's room as courteously as they could.

Masaki locked the door as if he were studying. He felt guilty for the deception but not for securing privacy for himself and Kichijouji. He pulled Kichijouji into a close hug.

This time, Kichijouji slipped his arms around Masaki's waist with absolute certainty that they had a secure relationship and were going to move forward with it. He pressed his cheek against Masaki's shoulder for a moment, willing his heart to slow down. The impending kiss he knew had to be coming made him so anticipatory that he could feel his pulse in several spots on his body.

Then, unable to hold back a moment more, Kichijouji lifted his face and kissed the closest target he could easily reach: Masaki's jaw.

Masaki moaned softly and kissed Kichijouji's lips. The act was so instinctive that he had a small panic attack upon realizing he'd done it. Then he pressed their lips together with everything he could muster, cupping the back of Kichijouji's neck. A shiver passed through him, and he registered that the kiss was warm. He wrapped his arms around Kichijouji and kissed Kichijouji again. "Don't ever, ever go," he whispered.

A shudder of pure need and arousal raced through Kichijouji. "I won't," he whispered. His lips tingled from the kisses, as did the back of his neck from the simple touch of Masaki's hand. "Don't you ever go. You saved me. And I love you." He cupped Masaki's cheek and pulled him into another kiss, instinctively mouthing his lips. I want you more than anyone.

Masaki moaned again and mouthed Kichijouji's lips in return. He felt like his lips were burning, but the feeling was good. He pulled Kichijouji flush to his body and kissed him with growing intensity. Kichijouji's words echoed through him. Love. It meant something exciting, terrifying, and painfully special, something more and something different from what Masaki's family felt about him.

Kichijouji moaned into the kiss as well, sinking into the sensation of Masaki's arms around him, Masaki's lips upon his, and the warmth and solidity of Masaki's chest. He could smell the faint trace of Masaki's body wash, feel the heat trapped between their bodies, and taste the faint sweetness on Masaki's lips leftover from the macaroons. Held so close to Masaki's body, he could also feel them both growing hard.

In that moment, Kichijouji realized that he desperately wanted Masaki to need him, to love him, and to make love to him. He wasn't ready for the full expression of the latter, but he would be with time. And the only person he wanted fusing with him in that way was Masaki. "Don't go," he gasped into the kiss, needing to say it one more time. "Don't ever go." He captured Masaki's lower lip and sucked on it, attempting to express the level of his need.

Masaki squeezed him, breath stolen by the strike of passion. When Masaki had his lip back, he whispered, "Never. I won't. I'll always fight to get back to you." He pulled Kichijouji to his bed and toppled them over onto it. Even though they were fully clothed, it felt deliciously intimate. He covered Kichijouji's body with his own and tucked Kichijouji's head against his neck and shoulder. "You're mine."

Kichijouji ran both arms around Masaki, gripping his shoulder blades with his hands. He felt a hot blush burning his cheeks at the intimate nature of their position, not to mention Masaki's powerful words of protection and passion. "And you're mine," he whispered. He realized that his lips had ended up right by Masaki's neck, and after a moment of struggling with himself at the forward nature of his desires, he nuzzled in and pressed a kiss to Masaki's neck.

Masaki moaned and shivered. He was fully hard, full of hormones, and unsure what to do about it. Snuggling and being frustrated seemed like the best option he could come up with. He nuzzled Kichijouji's hair.

The moan struck through Kichijouji like lightning. He pressed another kiss to Masaki's neck. It was easier to be so bold now that he'd heard that moan. He gave into his impulses and lapped over the warm spot. Then he sucked gently.

Masaki shivered, inhaled sharply, and whimpered. He hadn't expected Kichijouji to do anything like this. He squeezed Kichijouji and squirmed until his hips dropped in between Kichijouji's legs. His cheeks stung.

Kichijouji moaned softly at the feeling of Masaki's hips fitting between his thighs. The position was so suggestive he couldn't dismiss the implications. He briefly imagined a day in the future in which they would be in a similar position, naked, and making love. The power of the image made him gasp, and he showed the depth of his passion to Masaki by sucking on his neck again. The brief thought that he would give Masaki a hickey crossed his mind, but he let it float away, knowing their school uniform would hide it. He massaged Masaki's shoulder blades as he sucked and lapped his neck.

Masaki moaned and muffled the noises against the pillow, terrified that someone would be banging on his bedroom door if he didn't. I'm making out. I'm making out with my boyfriend. His mind spun with the enormity of it and the pleasure coursing through his body.

The sound of Masaki's pleasure was driving Kichijouji wild. When faced with the presentation of gay lovers in manga, he had been given the uniform and overwhelming message that he would be the "woman" in the relationship and that his role during sex would be one of utter passiveness—a mere receptacle of the "man's" desire, gaze, and unparalleled sexual skills. Unless, of course, he was on his knees providing his hyper-masculine lover with oral pleasure.

Reality turned out to be quite different. He was the one sucking on Masaki's neck, initiating the lovemaking and pulling moans from Masaki's lips. "I'm glad I can make you feel so good," he whispered. On impulse, he ran his tongue up the rim of Masaki's ear. "I want you to feel good."

Masaki shuddered and almost came from the sudden spike of pleasure. He desperately muffled his cry. "Yes," he choked out. His ear tingled wildly. He had never imagined finding such an adventurous boyfriend or girlfriend. His parents had taught him to expect a respectful, gentle, dutiful marriage. Kichijouji's passion and his passion for Kichijouji fit nowhere into this framework. He suddenly felt the dutiful version was childish. There is so much more. Jouji is so much more.

Kichijouji was amazed at the cry of pleasure that his lick had caused. It left him hard and leaking. There was no way he could pass up the chance to give Masaki that much pleasure. He lapped up the rim of Masaki's ear again, then dipped his tongue into the shell, shyly licking and trying to find the best spot.

Masaki arched against Kichijouji, unable to help it, and he cried out again into his pillow. The shyness of Kichijouji's caresses only made them more intense. His hips quivered. He knew he was about to come. This was his first real taste of pleasure, and it was with Kichijouji.

The way that Masaki arched against Kichijouji made him moan deeply right into Masaki's ear. The extremely suggestive nature of it made his erection throb in time with his pulse. Added to that were Masaki's helpless but muffled cries. Kichijouji clung to Masaki's shoulder blades with all his strength and captured Masaki's earlobe, sucking on it. Then he ran his tongue up Masaki's ear again before flicking it into the shell. Oh, god, yes. He couldn't hold back his passion, and he didn't want Masaki to hold back his.

Masaki clutched Kichijouji tightly and rocked his hips, rubbing their clothed erections together. "I'm going to – I'm going –" He came so hard it nearly hurt. As he collapsed on top of Kichijouji, aftershocks ran through his body.

For a moment, all Kichijouji could do was shiver and shudder. The way Masaki had rocked against him at the last moment had nearly made him come as well. He panted, his lips still close enough to Masaki's ear that he would be able to hear it. He ran his hands up and down Masaki's back. "Masaki," he gasped. He understood that they'd made a mess, and Masaki would have to clean it up as much as possible to hide the evidence. He also didn't care. He was so thrilled to have pleasured Masaki that he was ecstatic. "I love you," he whispered. "And I'll do that for you again. And again."

"What about you?" Masaki asked. "Don't you want to finish?" He felt weird and sloshy inside, but in a good way.

Kichijouji felt his blush all the way into his ears and down his neck. "Ah—yes." Several long moments passed before he could manage to speak again. "Would you try kissing my neck? Or maybe my ear?"

Masaki nodded and carefully shifted himself down. He buried his face against Kichijouji's neck. It was soft, warm, and a little damp with sweat, but it was the nice, fragrant kind of sweat. He moaned against Kichijouji's skin and lapped, feeling wanton and deceptive for doing these things behind his parents' backs. He wished it were a worse feeling, but he just couldn't feel too guilty. Then he was absorbed in kissing and sucking Kichijouji's neck, lost in the feeling of lavishing love on his boyfriend.

Kichijouji felt himself sink bonelessly into the mattress. Shockwaves of pleasure radiated throughout his body, and he moaned repeatedly, the sound deep and aching. He closed his eyes, focusing entirely on the intimate feeling of being held by his boyfriend and having his neck kissed. His fingers twitched lightly against Masaki's back as the pleasure pulsed through him. For that moment in time, Kichijouji felt as though the universe clicked into place for him. He was loved and protected, and he was being made love to. "Yes," he moaned. He never wanted to be anywhere else but in this perfect moment. "Masaki . . ."

A shiver ran down Masaki's back. "Yes," he echoed. He sucked, licked, and nuzzled with slow, insistent fervor, panting. In this instant, he forgot where they were, forgot there were other people in the house, forgot everything except that he loved Kichijouji and would do anything Kichijouji asked.

The sheer intensity of Masaki's dedication affected Kichijouji as much as the soft lips and tongue teasing his neck. He felt his lower back bowing upward off the mattress as his core muscles tightened with the ecstasy. "Masaki!" He tilted his head back and to the side, giving Masaki more room. And then, like Masaki just moments before, he ended up rocking his hips, unable to keep still.

Masaki moaned and ran his hands through Kichijouji's hair. He felt such love that his chest was tight. If I can take care of you this way for a lifetime, it will all be worth it.

The caress through his hair and Masaki's moan did Kichijouji in. For a suspended moment, all he could feel was the radiating pleasure of Masaki's soft lips on his neck and the added burn of the way he was rubbing up against Masaki's body. And then he cried out over Masaki's shoulder, his hips pumping in several sharp jerks as he came.

He collapsed under Masaki, feeling winded and high, and hugged Masaki with all his strength. "Oh, god yes. Again. I want to be in your arms like this again and again."

Masaki took a deep breath and made a noise of agreement. He ran his hands through Kichijouji's hair slowly, cherishing the feeling. He raised his head so that he could look into Kichijouji's eyes. He suspected he looked as dazed as Kichijouji did.

Kichijouji felt the smile blooming across his lips. Masaki's look of adoration and love made his heart buzz, and the feeling of Masaki's fingers running through his hair was divine. He ran his hands over the expanse of Masaki's back and then leaned in so he could kiss Masaki's forehead. A wave of fuzzy but warm exhaustion hit him. "I want to sleep on your chest now," he said. "Let's clean up and then return to your bed, yeah?"

Masaki nodded quickly.

They climbed off the bed and parted, changing clothes and tidying up. Kichijouji returned to Masaki's room wearing casual clothing—a soft cotton t-shirt and pants. Masaki was already back on his bed, waiting for him.

Kichijouji plopped right onto the bed and snuggled up, laying his head on Masaki's shoulder. "This is perfect." He rested his hand in the middle of Masaki's chest.

Masaki sighed happily. He wrapped his arms around Kichijouji and closed his eyes. "This is perfect. You're perfect."

Kichijouji leaned up and pressed a kiss to Masaki's jaw. "Well, I think you're perfect. So we're both ridiculously happy." He grinned and settled in again. Masaki was warm, and his arms were strong. The love and reassurance contained in that embrace was enough to lull him into a nap.

It was the first time in a month that Kichijouji didn't have even one small nightmare.