The door clicked shut behind Takano, and Kirishima tried to neatly ebb the red tinting the corners of his vision out with the retreating figure.
Put a fucking lid on it, Zen, he determinedly loosened his grip that had been putting Yokozawa's couch in mortal danger.
I've seen it all before.
Has he, the bastard?
Kirishima gritted his teeth, running a smoothing hand over his expression which was undoubtedly giving away more of himself than he cared to. Usually, he'd brush it off with a think he enjoyed the show?, make light of it with a you should've seen the look on his face.
But there was no look, of surprise, embarrassment, shock, marring the smooth lines of Takano's aggravatingly apathetic features. He looked exactly like, as he'd said, he'd seen it all before.
Kirishima knew that there was virtually nothing to worry about, Takano and Yokozawa had, quite literally, gone their separate ways. He knew Yokozawa loved him, and he knew Takano loved that Onodera-whatshisface just as much. And Jeez, Hiyo was more mature than him sometimes, but he couldn't help the irrational possessiveness that sank its venomous claws into his reason, wanting him to drown it in the constant reassurance that Yokozawa was most assuredly not going anywhere.
As the silence between them thickened and lengthened, it prodded at Kirishima to break it, because that's just what he did.
Chancing a glance at Yokozawa from under his lashes, Kirishima felt his mouth twitching into a broad smile. He looked ready to die, fidgeting uncomfortably on the couch, face akin to a siletz and seeming like he was fighting a strong urge to just make a break for the bedroom.
He leaned in closer again. This was familiar territory. This he knew, and he could feel his tension dissolving in the warmth of Yokozawa's fluster.
"Well, I did tell him to leave us to it," he murmured into Yokozawa's neck, smirk widening at the way Yokozawa instantly stiffened. Really, just who did the guy think he was fooling when his pulse was racing a mile a minute?
"G-get off, don't you have any shame whatsoever?" Yokozawa said, making to push away. Kirishima felt tendrils of the dark he kept so firmly locked away spiderwebbing like a network of fragile, hypersensitive nerves through his chest.
"Oh, you know I'm absolutely wanton when it comes to you~" and no, he was not showing this part of himself to Yokozawa.
"W-who the hell would think like that…" Yokozawa fumbled for words, adorably, and Kirishima knew that he probably had a few screws loose when it came to him, but everything the bear-like man said or did invariably translated as such.
"Oh, it's just the effect you have on me~" Kirishima grabbed Yokozawa's hand, bringing his lips to it. Heat rushed up his spine, lodging itself firmly in his brain and fevering his thoughts, little by little. "Now, will you come to bed with me, or will I have to carry my blushing bride there?"
And the way Yokozawa's pulse sped up as he pushed him off with all his strength before stomping his way to the bedroom with a get here before I lock you out did absolutely nothing to abate the fever snaking tendrils through him.
Kirishima let out a quiet moan into Yokozawa's hair as he sheathed himself fully in Yokozawa's searing heat.
"Ah! Sh-shit," Yokozawa shuddered, entire body trembling as he fought to ground himself, and Kirishima could only imagine just how intense this must be for him. He felt dizzied by the heat, and he wasn't even the one taking it.
"I'm moving," he muttered and began to slowly rock his hips in and out, steadily gaining speed as Yokozawa's breathless little sounds increased in both volume and richness. They spurred him on, goading him to grip his hips just that little bit tighter, thrust just that much deeper to elicit more, more, more.
Before he knew it, his fingers were carving out artwork in mottled purple-blue as he lifted Yokozawa's hips up to get a better angle. He wanted so much from this man, wanted to strip him down and lay him bare for Kirishima to see, every little nook and crevice of him. He wanted to take him apart under his ministrations, make him writhe and moan and beg.
With intent in mind, he angled his thrusts, searching for it. Yokozawa suddenly arched up under him, a needy, pleasured moan filtering through the pillow he was biting to muffle his sounds.
Found it.
"Here?" Kirishima panted, tilting his hips again, eliciting another sweet sound from Yokozawa. He kept his hips steady, aiming for that spot every time. "It feels good here, doesn't it? Come on," he clenched his teeth. "Don't hold back your voice."
"B-bastard- as… if-" Yokozawa grunted, the insult not very convincing, punctuated as it was with moans and sharp inhales.
The sounds he elicited from the man beneath him were just fueling the fire inside the chest, the one that screamed at him to throw all reason to the winds and just claim what was his.
Yokozawa's moans were building in crescendo, and it was as if his mind just shut down as he fucked into him with pure animalistic instinct, snapping his hips harder on every pass. The fist of base emotion that clenched over his heart like some perverse deity demanding satiation. Kirishima obliged, biting bruising kisses into Yokozawa's shoulders, fucking away even the thought of Takano, the image of his face, until the only name Yokozawa could remember would be Kirishima's.
Name.
His hand crept to Yokozawa's front, gripping his leaking erection hard near the base, stalling the orgasm that was creeping up on him.
"Shit," Yokozawa gasped, hand instinctively curling around Kirishima's, trying to pry it away.
"Say my name," Kirishima breathed into his hair, the darkness clawing its way up his throat and bursting forth.
"Like- hell I would," Yokozawa gasped out, white-knuckled grip on the sheets.
"Say it," Kirishima drove his hips faster, faster, building them both up to the very precipice, the thin line between sanity and the lack thereof blurring into white-hot pleasure. "Yokozawa,"
Heady noises tumbled past Yokozawa's lips, now barely muffled by the pillow, and then, barely audible, a shuddering, "Kirishima-san…"
Yesssss, the shapeless being in Kirishima's dissolving into satisfaction, "Again."
"Kirishima… san," Yokozawa groaned into the pillow, and Kirishima felt the blinding pleasure sweep him away as he left go of Yokozawa's dick, hips stuttering as he felt him clench around him.
And Takano hadn't seen it all before, hadn't seen this part of Yokozawa that fought against pleasure until it overwhelmed him, that stubbornly clung onto its pride until the bitter end, the one that didn't realize how vulnerable he was, all the chinks in his armor. He hadn't seen the adorable fragility.
No, that was reserved for Kirishima alone.
Moans tore out of their throats as the drowned in each other, spelled out their need with rising urgency into each other's skin, and oh god it was so tight, and hot and Kirishima was going to lose it any second now.
"Ah, ah, ahhhh-!" His hand curled around Yokozawa's cock, feverish strokes as Yokozawa's back arched and he cried out as his release spattered the sheets.
"-!" Kirishima bit down hard on Yokozawa's shoulder as the coil of heat in his stomach burst and he came in hot spurts inside Yokozawa.
And, well, if he'd bit out mine in the throes of his release, then no one had to be any the wiser.
Afterwards, he collapsed beside Yokozawa, still breathless after a good ten minutes and absolutely spent. It took a good deal of prodding from Yokozawa's foot before he mustered up the will to get himself cleaned up, even neglecting to cover his mouth as he coughed. Yokozawa rolled away from him with a wrinkled nose and don't go spreading your germs to me.
Kirishima didn't ever think he'd get used to this, as his eyes fluttered open in the silent stillness of the honeydew morning.
Golden sunlight filtered in through the windows, bathing the sleeping form next to him in an aura of uncharacteristic serenity. It was just them, floating in this little bit distilled light, a frozen moment hidden from the timekeeper of this Universe, a grain of sand stolen away from his hourglass.
He fought the urge to caress the ebony locks that seemed a light, light brown when strained through the caramel morning, for fear of rousing him from this spell of infrequent concord.
It was immaterial, though, as he stirred, and Kirishima felt a deep, intrinsic happiness as he just watched. He loved this man. Loved him. Was enraptured by these little nuances. Every day shed light on a new facet of Yokozawa's soul, pure as clear crystal, scattering rainbow fragments that seeped color into his life.
He turned to face Kirishima, who felt all his breath leave him in one fell swoop. A chill spread through him despite the warmth of the room, because this wasn't right.
"Sakura?"
"Zen," she spoke, for lack of better terminology, but her voice seemed to resonate from every corner of the room. She opened her eyes, and a dazzling, rich gold had burned away their brown warmth. "Come to me, Zen."
And she seemed to drift, up, away, nothing enshrouding her but light. Before he knew it, Kirishima had risen up off the bed, feet following her as if of their own accord. There was so much they had left to say to each other, they'd never had enough-
"Oi, where're you going?"
The door to his room opened and Yokozawa walked in, hair disheveled, the utter normalcy he ushered in standing in mockery of events just transpired.
Kirishima's line of sight snapped to him, then to Sakura's disappearing form, the turmoil raging in waves that threatened to rend to rubble the tentative foundations of the life he'd rebuilt.
Sakura's shimmering form grew almost mirage-like, and Yokozawa's voice obliterated all other noise.
"Wake up!"
Kirishima bolted upright in bed as Yokozawa's rough shake to his shoulder registered.
"Shit, are you all right?"
The customary furrow was firmly upon Yokozawa's brow, this time brought on by worry rather than the usual irritation at Kirishima. He tempered his exclamation with an awkward pat to Kirishima's shoulder, and he leaned his forehead against the steady arm gratefully. Yokozawa's cheeks pinkened, but he didn't snatch it away.
"Yeah, nightmare…" Kirishima said, surreptitiously taking a few measured breaths to calm himself. He felt drained of all energy, breath coming in gasps, bones aching. "It's alright now."
"Y-yeah," Yokozawa mumbled, withdrawing his arm. "We're going to be late for work if you don't get ready."
With the awkward delivery of the final remark, Yokozawa left to change into his work clothes, leaving Kirishima to combat the unsettling feeling brewing in the pit of his stomach. He shook his head determinedly, snap out of it, the thoughts couldn't take more of a hold on him, but they incised into his consciousness like covertly inserted glass shards, slashing to tattered fragments rationality and unleashing the evil sprites of carefully-buried thoughts.
In a choice between Sakura and Yokozawa, whom would he choose?
His hands intuitively found his head as he just rocked himself back and forth, mulling over yet using away from the question that seemed to open a cavernous void of unpleasant, wriggling considerations he would have gladly turned his face from.
He jumped about a foot in the air when the door opened and Yokozawa stumbled in, wearing his work clothes and an utterly discomfited look on his face.
"Look, you know you can talk to me about it if you want, right?" he said, resolutely avoiding Kirishima's eyes and fidgeting awkwardly, blush staining his cheeks.
Kirishima just stared at him in shock.
It felt like a glass of ice water had been dumped over his head, forcing his world into sharp relief.
He felt light.
"Yeah," he managed to answer, just looking at Yokozawa in wonder. Yokozawa shifted uncomfortably under the attention.
"That doesn't me you don't have to get your ass out of bed for work!" he snapped, hurrying out of the room.
Kirishima got out of bed.
"Now, what kind of a lover would I be if I didn't even tie your necktie for you? ~" he said, voice and spirits buoyant as he went after Yokozawa with his relentless teasing again. And goddamn, he loved this man, and Yokozawa might believe that he was given to instances of shameful emotion, the truth was, he wasn't the only one. Kirishima just hid it better.
And as long as he had this ridiculous, pure-hearted man by his side, everything would work out just fine.