Hizashi liked to believe that he wasn't all that sensitive. He wasn't the type to well up over a threat or an insult aimed his way. He had what his mothers called "tough skin" from a young age when he had cut his hair off after being referred to as a "pretty little girl" when he'd been picked up at the school and another parent commented on his looks. He'd been the first to always tell the truth as it was. He had a blunt personality he got from his mother, Kimiko, who never believed in sugar coating it for children.
He had not a clue whether that worked in his favor or against him, but he had to be thankful. He was trying to raise his own sons in the same manner; speaking to them as intellectuals and equals to himself without being vulgar was his goal. And it was working from what he could tell. He liked to believe his sons had more emotional intelligence than most children their ages. He raised them to have a thick skin, but he was never hesitant to stick his nose into any case of bullying if he suspected it was happening to his boys.
He was ready to do what he could to protect them without being overbearing. He merely wanted his sons to be tough. To not be overly sensitive and let a few words tear them down the way he had been torn down countless times in his life. From the ages of seven-year's-old to fourteen, he'd been denied by those outside of his family. He'd been dead-named countless times and he'd been bullied relentlessly when he'd kept his hair short. When he'd insisted on wearing the same clothing any other boy his age would wear.
Something that his mothers bought without complaint. However, seven years of being dead-named, of being made fun of, of being spoken down too and with condescension had its toll on him. And he didn't want his sons to grow up feeling that same pain. He didn't want them to be emotionally disconnected yet he didn't want them to be sensitive to the commentary of those around them. God knows he'd spent seven long years feeling sensitive to the words of those around him. However, how could he not?
When he was trying to live authentically as the boy others only saw him as the little girl he'd been before he'd come out. Before he'd begun wearing his binders. Before he began tapping his chest down in between those days when he had to wait for a new binder to come into the mail. He hated to think of those years. Years where it felt like some part of him died each time he was called by his dead name. Each time he was referred to by "she" and "her". It went on until he was finally old enough to claim what he knew to be true for seven years.
He'd not once heard an apology from his fellow peers or their parents that might have participated in the treatment aimed his way. No matter how thick his skin had been, he wasn't impervious. He wasn't untouchable by that hurt. It was a hurt that he carried with him in the nights he stood up before the full length mirror on the back of his door staring at himself. Pinching, twisting, curving, pirouetting in the mirror. As if to test to see if he was "feminine" in his body before he was satisfied and got into bed.
God, he hated to think of those nights he spent staring at his own reflection trying to find something feminine about himself. Staring only to go to bed where he would then proceed to try and blot it out the next day the best that he could. It was an exhausting time in his life, but he'd done his best to create the persona of a bold and confident man. Someone who wasn't afraid to be in the spotlight. It's what made his life as a theatre kid in middle and high school all the better. What made it bearable.
When he got put on hormone blockers and put on testosterone which had his voice cracking just like the boys around him. Even if it was a slow going process, he'd been maturing like any other boy his age. However, he never could fully shake off the dark years spent with those condescending voices asking for his name. The adults who had little pity for him when their children picked him apart ruthlessly. The last thing he wanted was for Hitoshi or Izuku to be bullied relentlessly like that. Like he had been.
He did his best to talk to the boys on the level of an equal rather than sugar coating things for them. Just like his mother, Kimiko, had done with himself and his siblings. He did his best to have an open communication with his sons rather than letting them think they had done something wrong. Rather than keeping them in the dark on certain topics. While he didn't sugar coat, he didn't downplay. He made his conversations on serous topics age friendly for his boys, but he was happy to believe that his sons were catching on.
That they were a bit more mature than their peers because of that but he couldn't be quite sure of it. Only time would tell. All he could do, after all, was raise them to be emotionally available young men one day. Young men who acted properly and treated others with respect. Young men who, if he raised them right, would treat their partners with the respect and love that they deserved. So, if talking to them without sugar coating, age appropriately, then dammit he'd do it. He'd do it happily if it benefited them.
His goal was to do what his mothers' had done for him and his siblings. To raise Izuku and Hitoshi to be emotionally mature, smart young men who weren't afraid of open communication. It was a reasonable price, wasn't it? To hope for his boys to grow up into well rounded men? He had not a clue who his sons would grow up to be, but he was hoping that he had been doing something right all these years with Hitoshi. That, hopefully, whatever Izuku's upbringing had been before he came into his care was decent.
That he could balance whatever he'd learned in his first five years with another parent with his own teachings. And Izuku seemed more than receptive; if anything, the boy seemed eager to learn from him or Hitoshi. A creative boy who always seemed content to babble either to a partner or to himself, he found it adorable. Izuku was a bright boy. So was Hitoshi. He was sure that as they went along that they'd learn their way. They'd become the men he hoped them to be but until then, he only wished to continue raising them the right way.
The proper way that he'd been raised by his mothers. When Izuku's caseworker had come for her mid-month visit, she had been a mother hen over Izuku who had cheerfully asked for her to sign his cast as well. He'd explained the situation to the woman as he understood it; Izuku stood on the back of the couch when he jumped. He had tried to do a flip, from what both boys said, and he'd flipped the table with his arms shooting out to take the brunt of his fall. According to them, it was a hard and awkward fall.
One that ended up snapping his damn bone into a compound fracture. His voice had wavered with guilt when Izuku had scooted close to pat his arm. His cheek. Trying to comfort him before tears could come for him; it was unbearably sweet. And while the case worker was, respectfully, disappointed about the situation. With the information that she had been given before she had gathered her binder up to leave after talking with Izuku privately. Telling him that she would be corroborating with the hospital about his story.
Not that she doubted him but for paper works sake and that she would call him when the situation was cleared up by her superiors. He'd been sickened. Absolutely terrified this might be the thing that tore Izuku from his care. He'd only been a week into his teaching job, starting in on his second, when the woman had come by. He'd spent afternoons clutching Izuku to his chest and the boy more often than not didn't mind it. Both boys, in fact, seemed to sense there was a tension and gathered close to him.
Cuddling up to his sides and chest as they contented themselves to movies. To watching TV shows together. Hell, he'd woken on Wednesday morning early to find Izuku and Hitoshi crawling into his bed under the blankets. As if to remain unseen. However, he welcomed the small bodies that cuddled up to him with small hands holding onto his pajama shirt. And by Tuesday that third week of November, he got the call from Izuku's caseworker that it was deemed an accident. He'd sworn he never breathed out harder.
That his knees never felt weaker. He had heard foster children could be taken away no matter their status. No matter if he was close to adopting Izuku. That they could be yanked out of custody of good families and placed in bad ones. He'd been absolutely relieved to hear that he was in the clear about what had happened. A week in limbo had left him damn near sick with worry. Even Nemuri and Oboro made their appearances at the house more often than not to spend time with Izuku and Hitoshi.
As if they were fearing their godchildren would be taken away as well. When he told them the case was cleared, he swore they never drove over faster to his place. And Izuku seemed to soak up the affection three adults could give one child. Even Hitoshi, who had long since been cemented in his care, was given that same affection that they could give. Both boys pink cheeked with giggling delight at the adoration given to them as any child would. He was more than happy to give them that additional adoration.
It was only when he was sipping at his tea that Nemuri had asked him the dreaded question he hadn't wanted to be asked. How his work at the school was going. And God, he'd been reluctant to tell them how it was going. Not that it was awful. He was three week shy into working there with his fourth going much smoother. He was becoming more familiar to him with each passing day. However, he'd explained the previous week had been lost to that limbo. He'd been in a daze when he'd been going through the lessons.
Picking at his lunch before forcing himself to eat for his children's sake who always playfully scolded him in that childish manner when he would come home with a full bento box. Grading, he found, was rather easy given he had the answer book. In fact, he found that it gave him something to do late into the night that kept him alert. That gave his hands something to do as he read over answers. Graded essays in written and email format that kept him busy for the past three weeks. All of it was giving himself something to do.
He was happy to say that he found himself quickly becoming used to his teaching job. In fact, he found an absolute joy in it that he hadn't been expecting. He found himself eager to get to the school to set up the classroom for the day. Found himself eager to greet his students who were quickly becoming comfortable enough with him to greet him warmly. Or, well, about as warmly as a teenager could greet their teacher first thing in the morning. He allowed for coffees and energy drinks to be brought into his class.
Something that was a bit taboo for other teachers he found, and it made him a popular teacher. Even the students that weren't in his class popping in were welcomed enthusiastically as he was handed papers. He was happy to be working in the school system. His weekends, however, were spent at the bookshop with Izuku and Hitoshi joining him on Saturdays. Trotting into his store through the isles before they sat in the breakroom reading whatever book their hands touched that were age appropriate.
A day spent talking with Taishiro who playfully chattered with his sons about their books that they would tuck beneath tiny arms as they made their way home. He was thriving. It was a strange sensation despite that limbo period with Izuku's case worker, but life was settling into a drumming familiarity. A routine that had him eager to wake in the morning. Something that gave him purpose. Sundays were also spent at the shop but more often than not he found a friend of his offering to take the kids.
He hadn't had a playdate at his home in a while to which he sent a message to the group chat he was willing to take the kids for a Sunday if they wished. It was an immediate response that had him laughing as he got an outpouring of eager yes's from the women. There was a routine to his life as he went from teacher to a store owner on the weekends. When he watched his sons reaching for books to read eagerly. Little bookworms in the making with books being brought home from school as well that they often sat to read.
With it getting so cold outside three weeks into November, he was more than happy to stay inside. Making rounds of hot chocolate for the three of them in between his grading. It was a routine that left him tired most days, but he loved it. Loving his teaching job and seeing Taishiro on the few Saturdays he worked. More often than not it was his younger staff there, but they greeted him just as warmly. He'd seen them around the high school which he initially thought would make it awkward for them but had the opposite effect.
If anything, it seemed that taking the substitute position had done wonders. He missed manning his store, but he was sure he'd have more than enough time for it come the new year when he was done with this two month job of his. He was happy doing what he loved. Balancing all three of his jobs with his radio show on Friday nights eating them up. He was so tired somedays, however, that he often passed out the second his head hit the pillow. To sleep without the aid of his night time pills that, very rarely, were used when he couldn't sleep.
He was lucky if he remembered to take his hearing aids out or his glasses off when he hit the bed. However, there was a joy to his routine that he couldn't deny. A joy that got him through that week of limbo. And yet he was faced with a different problem. A much, much different problem that he found himself in a bit of turmoil over. When Taishiro had all but ripped his eyes open to the truth he found that his crush on Shouta, much to his mortification, was growing. Getting bigger rather than staying small like he'd hoped it'd be.
How he hoped it to remain an innocent crush was laughable. For it was growing with each passing day, he swore it, when he was given another reason to like the man. And then there was the connecting problem; Shouta's flipping personality. He had never been so whiplashed by one man in his life. With Sekijiro, at least the man let his disdain from his teenage years be all too clear in the grown man. Sekijiro, at least, didn't treat him any differently outside of work than he would while within their work hours.
That much he knew from experience when he had tried talking to the pale gray-haired man who had brushed him off like he always did. It was consistent. At least he knew the reaction he would get from Sekijiro. With Shouta, it felt different. Almost as if the black-haired man were holding him back with a five foot pole. The man hardly spoke to him throughout the work week but outside of work? The black-haired man was shy. He was playful. He at least talked to him about his day to which he would share back.
There was something so frustrating about this than he would like to admit out loud or to himself. He couldn't understand it. Why treat him so coldly at work then be so friendly with him outside of work? Shouta had apologized to him that day in the kitchen following his first day of work for his "dickish behavior". He'd thought they'd talked about it. That the black-haired man wouldn't be what they both deemed to be a dickhead. That he wouldn't be cruel. And yet the black-haired man hardly interacted with him at work.
Often times, he had to run just to keep up with the man in order to ask him even one question. He was cold. Detached. And he couldn't deny that he was finding it frustrating beyond belief. He felt ready to slam his head into the nearest wall with the desire to rid him of this frustration that had his brows twitching. The muscles under his eye spasming in a way he hadn't felt since his early teenage years. Back when he had still been referred to as a little girl or a tomboy rather than who he was. He didn't know what to do about it.
He didn't want to bring it up again and somehow upset Shouta or he became angry with him outside of work hours. But what did he do? He couldn't deny that there was indeed a possibility that this was just a whiplash to his emotions. Because of his crush on Shouta. He didn't know what to do about the situation when Shouta was talking to him normally outside of work. When they were the best of friends that invited the other over to his house. Where they hung out and he got to play with Eri who was beginning to babble real words at him.
Especially as they neared her birthday in December. An almost two year old. He recalled Shouta had said she was a year shy, but he couldn't help but wonder if that was due to his frazzled state back then. Either way, he was more than happy with their friendship outside of work. He just wished it had its place, no matter how small, in their work day. For Shouta to treat him kindly even a bit. To show just a tiny bit of that friendly energy he got outside of work. Instead, the black-haired man remained cut off.
Remained uninterested during the work week. He couldn't deny that he wanted something from Shouta, but the black-haired man wasn't giving it. And he could understand it; understand that personal friendships didn't need to be brought into the work place. But he couldn't help feeling desperate when he tried to get Shouta's attention only to be snapped at dryly. It left his face burning with embarrassment before rushing off, but he always caught those glimpses of regret. Of guilt when he was turning away from him.
And God knows it only led to Shouta's voice booming down the hallway to wrangle students back into their proper rooms. And any other time, he'd dare say it was hot. To see the black-haired man storming past his room like a storm cloud with black curls fluttering over his shoulders. Dark eyes crackling with nostrils flaring as that sharp jaw of his clenched tightly. He found it incredibly attractive for some damn reason he'd never understand. However, the distance between them at work had him wavering on his stance.
Had him feeling strangely upset when it came to talking to Shouta but when he'd been talking to Nemuri he spilled his guts. Admitting to everything with the dark-haired woman coming over with a bottle of wine. From there they'd sat in the living room after the boys had gone to bed to sip at with Oboro in tow with his wife. He hadn't known what to say other than he had a crush on the black-haired man. He could still recall the identical looks of shock on Oboro and Nemuri's face when he had squeezed the words out.
When he told them that he was strangely hurt by the behavior of his when they were at work. He hadn't known what else to say when he'd teared up slightly with Nemuri soothing and Oboro promising to talk to Shouta which he rejected. He didn't want it to somehow slip out that he had a crush on the man. He'd die first before ever letting that slip out before he was ready. It was a night of sipping wine, of talking it out, and getting it off of his chest before he entered his fourth week of work. Before he saw Shouta again.
It was a weight that had been settled on his chest that he hadn't known he'd been so desperate to get off of it. He was at least glad to share the developments with the dark-haired woman who promised to help him come up with the right way to approach the being transgender situation with Shouta. The couple, however, swore to be silent about his crush. To not let it slip, which they had both promised. He hadn't known how truly exhausted he'd been until he'd stumbling to bed, a bit tipsy, to go to sleep.
He hadn't known the situation of not only his son's broken arm and the case worker had taken its toll on him. Then Shouta's strange behavior towards him at work had been taking their tolls on him in ways he hadn't realized until he was alone in his own head. When he was wrapped up in the silence with his hearing aids taken out and curled under the blankets. He didn't think he was a sensitive man; he didn't want to think he was that sensitive, but he was. He had "big emotions" as his mothers used to call it when he was a toddler.
Or so they told him. He was someone who felt deeply even if he had thick skin. Did it hurt because Izuku had been in danger of being taken away? Yes. Did it hurt that his crush was being so cold to him? Yes. Did it hurt to admit that his crush was spiraling? Absolutely. It was an odd medley of emotions that had him choking on them that night when he'd curled up in bed. He hadn't known what to do with himself when he returned to work that fourth week. Trying to keep his head up and remain unbothered by Shouta's personality changes.
In fact, he found that having lunch with Thirteen, Snipe and Yagi was an event that he delighted in. It had him eating his lunches from start to finish, which left his bento empty. It was enjoyable to eat with the three of them rather than fussing with his food by himself in his room as he forced himself to eat. They were an enjoyable trio that he found himself happily chatting with in between classes should he see them. Which, if he was honest, was a common affair in the past three weeks but the fourth was especially noticeable.
They checked in with him intermittently on how he was doing during the day. Some part of him just wished Shouta would do the same. Give him something to show that he cared even the slightest bit. That Shouta didn't care about his public appearance like he was fearing that the man did. He wished he could talk to Taishiro about it. He wished he could have someone speak bluntly with him about it. He wished he'd asked Taishiro if it was alright to text or call outside of work hours about personal matters.
The light ping of his phone tore him out of his thoughts when he blinked only to wince at that dryness to them from his aimless staring at the laptop screen before him. Sneaking fingers beneath his glasses, he scrubbed the pads of his fingers into his eyes fiercely. Doing his best to work the itchiness from them with a slow breath into his palms. He shifted slightly with his laptop wobbling in his lap when he let his gaze flick down to the bed where the binder sat open with his papers waiting to be graded.
He let out a slow breath as he scrubbed his right eye before dropping his hand away when he reached out to grab his phone. Lifting it up just enough for the screen to power to life, he found a notification from Nemuri waiting for him. Unlocking his screen, he rubbed at the corner of his eye at the message waiting for him. Asking him if he wanted her to come over again so he could vent his frustrations. Talk further. There was a text from Oboro explaining he got the pictures from his friend that he'd like to review with him.
That he needs to name a time, and he'd come over with his laptop for them to look over the pictures before putting them up on the sight. He had caught a glimpse of Oboro's friend before leaving the store one day on short notice with the boys. He was a tall man, with a long neck, and well-groomed blonde locks. He hadn't said much more than the courtesy "excuse me" as he made his way out of the store. Shifting in his position, his folded legs aching slightly, he tapped on Oboro's text which he replied too quickly.
Naming a time off of the top of his head before sending it. He could give up an afternoon at the store on Saturday to go over this with Oboro. Rubbing the corner of his eye again, he tapped on Nemuri's notification to find the woman was indeed offering to talk to him again. To come by the store when he was in the area. He happily replied in kind with a stab of that melancholic emotion. Strangely enough, he misses having Nemuri bring him lunches as he stood behind his counter because he had forgotten his.
He misses manning the store. He misses redecorating then shuffling the books about on the shelves as he pulled them from the delivery box. He misses working at his store that he'd poured so much time into over the past three years. It had him sucking air through his teeth when he sent off his text before putting his phone down again with a low, even sigh as his lashes fluttered down to his cheeks. Shutting his eyes as the glow of the laptop faintly lit the back of his eyelids. He liked his new routine.
He did. But he missed the old one before he hired on staff. Before he became so stable in his day to day life. He missed manning his store with Izuku and Hitoshi running through the isles giggling to one another. In standing behind the counter welcoming the few customers he got into the store. Who knows, he might not even need to stay on as a substitute until Christmas. From what he understood, the original English teacher had taken some time off for a leave of absence for the time being.
Whether that was until Christmas or not remained to be seen but until then he would substitute. He dropped his phone to the bed when he let his head fall back with a slow sigh as he lifted his hands up to knead at the back of his neck. The muscles there were tight; his upper back was no better. It had him groaning quietly as he kneaded at those tense muscles with a twitch at the pain it sent jolting down his back. He opened his eyes to glance at the essays in the student portal waiting to be graded.
He had the weekend to get them finished. All of this work would be passed back classroom sheets, homework and essays long before their Labor Day Thanksgiving on the twenty-third. He planned on throwing a family dinner party with his sisters, brother, and their spouses along with their children along with his mothers. He wanted nothing more than to have a quiet get together. But with Hana's eldest, Haru's two kids, along with Izuku and Hitoshi running around it'd hardly be quiet event like he hopes.
He sighed out at the thought when he pushed his laptop off of his lap slightly with his legs stretching out as he groaned at the relief. He needed to move. To do something. Surely tomorrow afternoon would provide him with more than enough time, wouldn't it? He'd have some down time to grade before he had to get ready for his show at the radio station. He could take a moment to himself, couldn't he? What did he want to do? He reached up then snapped the screen of his laptop shut with a gentle click.
Then he reached over for his binder. Neatly lining the papers up, he shut the binder then slid his laptop on top of it when he stretched his legs out before him. Leaning back on his hands to stretch out when he let his hands slid over the blanket with a whisper. Sighing out, he let his head fall back with his bun bobbing against the base of his neck. Taking a slow breath in then out as he stretched backwards until he landed onto his back with a light thud. The bed bouncing lightly beneath him at his weight.
And he stretched his arms above his head when he arched his back from the bed. God, it felt good to stretch out again. He felt a yawn crawling up his throat as he pressed his head back into the bed. Shuddering as his feet pointed out with his body trembling lightly with the stiff set of his stretch as his arms stretched up, up, up. He groaned quietly to himself when he then slumped back into the bed. Sighing out to himself once again, he opened his eyes up to stare at the familiar sight of the ceiling above him.
How tempted he'd been when he bought this house to stick glow in the dark stars up there. He'd wanted to get a pack at the store for his room as well, but he'd fought against it. And with both boys now being six-years-old, he knew it would only encourage them to sleep in his room as well just to see them. Even if they had their own stars in their bedroom. He yawned then as he reached beneath his head to work his hair down from a bun. He grunted as he lifted his head up then yanked his hair down.
Letting his head hit the bed again with a low hum when he rested his hands on his stomach that fluttered. That churned. Always within Shouta's presence it seemed. Since admitting his crush to himself, he swore all it had done was grow. Snowball out of his control. It was growing with each passing day he saw the black-haired man who was so stoic at work. Not an emotion flickering over that apathetic face of his save for when he had that thunderous expression on his face. God, he swore nothing was hotter than that sight.
Did he have a thing for an angry Shouta? Possibly. He'd yet to have that rage faced towards him but rather an indifference that stung his heart. What was the need for it? What was the goal for it? Why did Shouta look at him with such indifference during the work day but stare so warmly when he was in his living room? The black-haired man had insisted he hadn't "made it up" to him yet but he was waiting with bated breath as to what that could mean. What it meant that Shouta was taking so long to do it.
He didn't understand this man. It had been quite a while since he'd been so twisted up and confused over a man since he was in his early twenties and he'd dated that much older man. He didn't know what was going on with himself and Shouta. He had feelings for the man; at the very least, he found the black-haired man attractive physically. Shouta was a fit man; muscular from what he'd seen in glimpses and it had him weak in the knees. It left him in awe for how was this single father finding time to work out?
How effortlessly he could imagine Shouta picking him up and slamming him down on the closest surface. Would Shouta hold him like a leaf? Would he be light in the black-haired man's arms? Would Shouta effortlessly sweep him off of his feet? It was something he found himself thinking about. It was something that, if he was honest, was something that he was thinking about since the beginning. From the moment he first met Shouta. It wasn't odd to have fantasies about strangers, that much he knew.
But he and Shouta were friends now. He was only weeks shy into admitting he had this crush but didn't he feel the tension from the beginning. Hadn't he been feeling it for weeks? Hadn't he caught himself admiring the other man's beauty? Found himself gawking shamelessly? Hanging onto his words? Wasn't he happy when he had the man's attention? Even if Shouta didn't say out loud what happened on Halloween night, he had the hope that it could be mutual. He could hope. Did Shouta think about him?
Did Shouta lay on his bed, just like he was, and think about it? About what it would be like to act on that romantic tension? What would Shouta do if he turned to him to kiss him like he had on Halloween? What if he made that decision? It had him groaning as his cheeks warmed when he slid his hands up with fingers sneaking beneath his glasses press into his eyes. Why did he have this man on his brain tonight? This man who was putting an odd distance in between that was leaving him scared at the change.
Terrified that they were going to turn into polite acquaintances. It terrified him when he was here finally getting to grasp onto the notion he had a crush. A crush that had him seeing Shouta in another new light that he wasn't sure he liked. Just for the sake of keeping things friendly between them he'd been swallowing it down. Even if he found himself looking forward to hand brushes. For another chivalrous act like that coat giving back in late September and early October. He wanted nothing more than that moment back.
He wished he could ream out Shouta about his emotional whiplash. He knew there was nothing stopping him but he didn't want to ruin anything. He sighed out to himself at the indecision rearing it's ugly head when he slid his hands from his stomach up to his chest that fluttered idly with his slow breaths. Forcing down at yawn threatening to claw its way to the surface like the previous ones. Stretching out, he let his lashes flutter down before shutting his eyes again as he listened to the silence around him.
The icy rain striking his window with the quiet howl of the wind. The sound of icy branches rattling together out there as leaves were ripped from them. He slid his hands over his chest as he counted his breaths. In, out. One. In, out. Two. Three. Four. He could fall asleep if he wasn't careful but he knew sleep was the last thing on his mind. There was a tension that was crawling beneath his skin each time he met with Shouta. Something weighing him down that was choking him. That was eating him up.
He didn't understand what this crawling sensation was but God, it was driving him insane. He had been dealing with it each time he was face-to-face with that hot and cold treatment from Shouta. He didn't know if he wanted to kiss the man or scream in his face about his treatment so far. He didn't know if he could last another month like this. Squirming in his place, he plucked at the fabric of his sweater idly when his heart skipped beneath his palm. What did he want to do about this situation with Shouta?
What would get that manic energy out of his skin? Out of him so he could face Shouta with the same distance he was giving him at work? To look him in the eye again without that tension running under his skin like a livewire? It had him choking. He didn't know how much more of this hot and cold treatment he was going to take from Shouta. He wants to kiss him. He wants to scream at him. He wants to slam him down and shout that his treatment wasn't fair. To question what he'd done to deserve it.
How did Shouta go from being so friendly and willing to kiss him on Halloween to this? What did he do wrong? Was it because he had asked to think about it? To talk about it at a later date so he could gather his thoughts? Was it because of that tension in the kitchen after his first day at work? What had caused the flip? What had caused the change? He was ready to scream from the uncertainty of the situation. Not knowing how to make heads or tails of the black-haired man's attitude. Why he was acting this way.
He let out a shuddering breath when his phone was pinging next to him with a vibration. Rolling his head over the bed as his eyes opened, he reached for his phone then lifted it up just enough for him to look at the screen. It was just a Facebook notification about a comment on a post. He tossed his phone away from him with another groan. He needed his mind off of Shouta. He needed his head on other things that were far more important than wondering if he's done something wrong when he knew he didn't do a damn thing wrong.
Sighing out to himself, he wished he could just be honest. Even if it was to himself. As much as he hated this hot and cold treatment, he found the stoic Shouta to be attractive. Just as he found an angry Shouta attractive. He hated the treatment but God if he didn't enjoy seeing a disgruntled, annoyed Shouta. He could admire the way his lips curled for hours. The way his eyes flashed dangerously like lightning before the crackling boom of thunder. How his long brisk strides always had his curls bouncing around his shoulders.
How they fluttered over them. How they brushed at his angry face that scrunched up so adorably. How the tightening clench only emphasized how sharp his jaw was. God, there was something fucking hot about it. As much as he wanted Shouta to treat him normally there was also something so hot about seeing him angry. About seeing him be in such an authoritarian manner that left him blushing. Left him flushed against his best efforts. For three going on four weeks, he'd watched Shouta bark orders at his class that listened to him perfectly.
They never strayed a toe out of line. It was aweing. And he couldn't deny that seeing Shouta leave not a room for protest? The way he expected those around him to jump a his voice? To do as he said without back talk? It was riveting. It was honestly by far the best thing even if he hated that distance growing between them. He hated it but loved it. How was that possible? For him to like something but also not like it? It was like that saying. There was no way he could have his cake and eat it too, was there?
He couldn't find Shouta's anger, his authoritative boom of a voice cracking out hot and be upset by the distance, could he? He found himself growing snippy with the black-haired man but wouldn't anyone after three weeks of this? When one of those weeks was suspended in limbo with his case worker? Could anyone blame him for being snippier with the black-haired man even if he tried to keep his head? His calm? But God knows he was a damn fool for finding that anger so attractive for some unknown reason.
Finding his own anger that was building to get him hot as it only built up, up, up. And laying there, he knew it was childish to do it, but he knew of a damn good way to get it out of his system. He wanted to say that he'd never, in all of his life, had ever vindictively rubbed one out to someone before. He wants to say that he'd never been so angry, so confused, that he had masturbated to work it out. He wants so badly to deny it. But he had. He's done it before just to be petty with his ex-boyfriend who had caught him.
And God help him if it never followed with some of the hottest sex he's ever had in his life. If anything, he knew he wasn't doing it just to be vindictive but rather to work out the buzzing in his that wouldn't stop. Did that make him childish? Did that make masturbating invalid? No. No, he didn't think so. Licking at his lips, he dragged his teeth over his bottom lip when he slid his hands over his chest that fluttered beneath his hands. He slid his hands beneath the hem of his sweater to the warmth of his stomach.
Muscles quivering viciously beneath his fingertips when he snaked his hands up over his stomach that quivered viciously. His knees raised up from the bed to bend as his feet pressed to the bed. Letting out a trembling breath as his hands swept up to his chest with his fingers sliding over his mastectomy scars. Tracing their shape that lined his pecs; rubbing the tips of his fingers over the sensitive area had his skin tingling when he fanned his hands over them. Rubbing idly over the scars never failed to get his skin tingling,
Not quite with sensitivity but more like it would wake his body up. Would make it take notice. With testosterone, he had to admit that his drive had taken a hit as a teenager, but he liked to believe that he had a rather normal drive now. A drive that he had been neglecting ever so slightly. Why? Was it because he was scared his crush on Shouta would complicate it? That he'd think something he'd regret? That if it was just him that he would think of the man rather than watching some old soft-core porn show?
That he would see the actors on screen and imagine it was the two of them rather than the two men on screen? Was he afraid to watch porn because of that very reason? Would he replace the actors with himself and Shouta? That it would mean more than fucking himself on a dildo in the bathroom to the thought of some mystery lover? Did it have to mean anything? So, what if he was thinking about Shouta while he did it? It's not like he'd ever find out. It's not like he had to say a word about it. It could be his secret.
It had his breath hitching slightly when his chest arched up slightly when he slid his hands from his scars to squeeze at his chest. The same way he would in the past if he had his breasts still. He dug his fingers in just enough with curls of blonde hair tickling his fingers when he then slid his hands down. Rubbing the pads of his fingers over the skin of his areolas with his heart skipping against his chest again. Rubbing over the skin firmly with his fingers spread out around his nipples that were perking up ever so slightly.
He dragged his teeth over his lip once again before biting down as he lifted his fingers up to trace the rim of his areola with the tips of them. Tracing, tracing, tracing. It had his breath catching in his throat when he lightly used the edges of his blunt nails over the rims before swirling his fingers inwards. Swallowing when he flicked his fingers over his hardening nipples to which he lightly pinched. Tugging upwards lightly had tingles racing down to pool into his stomach. Filling it with a low pressure that had him inhaling slowly.
It had his thighs squeezing together at the throb that was given between them. A curious throb but one all the same as his inner walls clenched together when he rubbed his thighs together slightly as if to soothe the action when he increased the strength of his pinch. Squeezing when he then tugged upwards again sharper sending another wave of tingles down to his stomach when he began to idly twist back and forth at them. His heart skipping against his chest wildly before it began to sprint as his breaths raced quietly.
His chest fluttering beneath his hands when he gave a sharper twist before letting go of the hardened nipples to sneak his fingertips beneath the balls of his piercings. Lifting up, up, up until he got that stinging protest that had his racing breaths catching in the back of his throat. And he held that upwards position until it began to burn. Only then did he let his piercings go as they fell back into place when he then brushed his palms lightly over his tingling nipples then trailing his fingers over them in a downwards stroke.
God, he wanted to know what it'd be like to kiss Shouta. Would his lips be soft? Or would they be rough like his hands? Would they be chapped? Would they feel as full as they looked? Would they be plush against his? Could Shouta really sweep him off his feet as easily as he hoped he could? As much as he hoped for that he also hoped it was a bit of a challenge. He liked to believe he'd put on decent weight and wasn't so light anymore as he used to be. God, what would Shouta do to him if he gave him the go ahead?
How many nights had he thought of a lover ravishing him? With Shouta he knew he could return the favor. It had his breath catching as his back arched when he rubbed his palms over his chest and nipples before sliding his hands to flick his thumbs over them. Back and forth, back and forth, back and forth. He pressed the pads of them down on his hardened nipples. He rubbed in firm circles to flatten them down sending tingles pooling to his stomach like a current that had heat flicking lazily beneath his skin.
Fanning under his skin when he let out another slow breath as he rolled his thumbs over his nipples. What would it be like to have those rough hands on his chest? What would it be like to be trapped on Shouta's lap as those rough hands squeezed and pawed at him? When they slid over his skin? His sides? His waist? It had his biting down on his lip when he let out a shuddering breath leaving him as he pressed his head back. What would it be like to have those hands grab at his hips to show him the "right" way to grind down?
The "right" way he wanted him to move? What would Shouta say to him if they actually had sex? Would he be a vulgar man? Or would he be tender with his words? Would he be sweet? Or would he whisper nothing but vulgar statements? Would it be both? Would he croon at him those praises of his beauty the way he had in his drunken stupor? Would he gasp beneath him as hands clutched at his waist? What would those black curls look like spread over the bed? Would there be heat in those dark eyes of his?
He wants nothing more than to see that lovely blush spreading over his cheeks. He wants nothing more than to watch those full lips part as black lashes fluttered with the fight to keep dark eyes from rolling back. He wants to see what type of lover Shouta would be. He wants nothing more than to show Shouta what type of lover he was. His teeth dragged over his lip when his mouth dropped open slightly with a rushing breath leaving him as he lifted his thumbs from that tight roll to flick over his nipples that perked up eagerly.
Bringing his fingers together, he pinched at them with a sharp tug that had his back arching from the bed. His thighs rubbing together restlessly as his inner walls spasmed together again in another throb. He could feel the light little throbs of his clit but not yet. Not yet, not yet, not yet. He squeezed at his chest with his breaths trembling in and out,. Then he flicked his fingers over his nipples with fingertips sneaking beneath the balls of his piercings. Lifting up until they stung just enough to get him whining quietly.
Squeezing then rubbing his thighs together in an attempt to soothe the fluttering ache that was beginning to twist in his lower stomach. Spreading down to his crotch. Sliding his hands down his chest to his stomach, the muscles quivering viciously, when he slid them to his waist. Up his sides as he pushed at his sweater to reveal his skin to the cooler air of the room. A burst of cooler air over his skin had him shivering but tingles happily fanned under his skin. Pooling into his stomach when he slid his hands along his sides.
Curving his hands inwards slightly to brush over his stomach to get him squirming when his lashes fluttered on his cheeks. God, was he really so worked up after three weeks? Four if he was honest with himself? Four weeks of this treatment and another four next month? It was going to drive him insane. He already couldn't ride his bike until he chased away the sensations so what would he do? What can he do? It had his breaths trembling when he pressed his head back as his hands continued their slow sweeps along his sides to his waist.
Curving lazily to brush over his stomach with his fingers brushing over his happy trail lightly before his hands slid to his sides. He was tingling, tingling, tingling. When was the last time he masturbated? When did he stumble across that soft-core porn? September? Not every parent had time to masturbate, that much he knew as the boys had interrupted him a few times in the past. With his locked doors they'd knocked causing him to spring out of his bed. To rush to wash his hands and face. To throw his clothes back on.
But since they'd been sleeping independently and no longer needed him as often at night, he had time. More than enough time. He had promised himself two months ago that he was going to begin loving himself more often, wasn't he? But he'd been worried. Hesitant. Far, far too busy to take the time to love himself properly when he was so busy. When he was afraid of what his little crush would do when it came to masturbating. What it would end up being when he would be left with the aftermath on his own.
However, it had been so fucking long since someone got him going. And Shouta, for better or worse, certainly had his engines going. It was more than some fantasy about a mystery lover. More than some soft-core porn on a TV. More than the more intense things he'd find if he was looking online. He never needed porn to get himself going but sometimes it was needed. Tonight, however, he didn't need some soft-core porn. He didn't need Pornhub and it's never ending sections that did nothing but grow.
Tonight, he needed nothing more than his wondering thoughts and his hands. Nothing more, nothing less. It had him shuddering when he slid his hands up to push his sweater up over his chest to his collar bones where he slid his hands down to the flare of his waist. Coming back up to curve to his chest, his fingers flicked over his nipples that tingled. Harder than anything from his teasing when he gave a pert squeeze to his left nipple that had pain jolting through him. Had him jerking in response but God it felt good.
He tightened his pinch on that nipple when he pinched at his right with harsh tugs being given to the tingling things. His heart sprinted wildly against his chest with his breath racing quietly as he tugged at his nipples again before brushing his palms over them. Sliding his palms over them again, again, again in light up and down strokes. His fingers brushing through the curls of hair covering his chest when he slid his hands down to rub at his scars. A gentle, soothing rub with sliding caresses over the shapes of them.
A sensitive area, predictably, that had him squirming at the oversensitivity attached to it. Whether physical or mental, it had him whimpering quietly at that sensitivity before he slid his hands down to his stomach. His fingers tracing along the waistband of his pants as his thighs squirmed together with his lashes fluttering on his hot cheeks. Flicking playfully at it when he slid his hands along his waist in a sweeting caress, his hips raising up instinctively when he then slid his hands towards his sides again where he swept his hands up them.
It was so easy to imagine what those rough hands would feel like on his skin. He'd felt those rough fingertips on his cheeks enough time to imagine how his palms had to be. Big hands that he couldn't stop himself from imagining on his cheeks when they were together. Hands that he wants to touch him. He wants Shouta to touch him so badly. That afternoon when the black-haired man had caged him in by the sink had been hot. Whether he intended for it to be or not, it was fucking hot. Incredibly so.
And he was smoldering away on his bed trying to recreate that sensation. The light brush of Shouta's forearms against his waist. How close he'd been that he'd sworn he'd been able to admire those soft gray highlights to his eyes. Such a rich, dark color that he could drown away in. A dark color that had him riveted each time he saw the man. He'd never seen someone with such dark eyes. So dark he almost couldn't make out those pupils of his but when he was so close? He swore he saw them expanding.
Reacting. And it had his heart jumping each time he met that gaze; each time his eyes caught those dark ones he found himself falling. Absolutely losing his train of thought whether he wanted to or not. Was this a hopeless case? Was it doomed to fail from the start? After all, Shouta was his friend of four months. A dear, close friend. And yet here he was, crushing on the man like a damn teenager. He was choking on his crush that swelled in his chest. Shouta made him happy outside of their work. He made him delighted.
Excited at the chance to see him. To hear his voice. To have him sitting close to him on the couch where he'd hope for that knee to touch his. Where he would hope for that foot to nudge his. For fingers to tuck his hair behind his ear. For them to graze in a subtle caress along the side of his face. If this were strictly physical, he could understand it. And he couldn't deny it was physical in the beginning; he found Shouta incredibly attractive from that first morning he found the man in his shop. He found Shouta attractive from the beginning.
His voice, his body, his face had riveted him the first time he met him. Had him hopeful he would run into him again. But now that they'd been friends for months now? He was scared it wasn't just physical anymore. Not when he found himself wanting Shouta. Would having the man flip him over a table fix it? Would trapping himself on his lap make it go away? His whimper tore him out of those more complex thoughts of his with hands trembling lightly over his stomach. His head pressed back to the bed to show off his throat to- who?
This imaginary Shouta who was right there? Right there, picture perfect, behind his eyelids? Breaths caught in his throat nearly making him cough when he squirmed with his thighs squirming together when he felt that blood draining to his clit causing it to throb lightly. Shouta was a handsome man so surely it wasn't that wrong to want him, was it? He had admired that face for hours at a time. Hours to have it imprinted behind his eyelids. What would Shouta say if he found out? If he knew? If he had the slightest inkling?
It had his heart skipping against his chest as his thighs pressed together then curled forward towards his stomach to ease the ache of his crotch. To ease the twisting ache that clamped his lower half in a vice grip when he twitched at the wetness gathering between his legs. A slick rub that had him whining shrilly to himself when he slid his hands down over his stomach to bury themselves in between his legs. Fingers rubbing over his labia firmly with a curl through the fabric that had his hips bucking.
Arching into his hand shamelessly when he lifted his left hand from between his legs as he rubbed at himself through the layers of clothing. Sliding his left hand up to squeeze at his chest firmly. He swore he'd never wanted a man so badly. And he could see it; he could see with his hindsight how much he wants the man. Had for months. It was embarrassing how eager he had been in the past handful of months, but could anyone blame him? His breath trembled in his throat as he rubbed at him slowly.
With pressure. A firm press against himself that had his hips squirming as his thighs rubbed together before falling open slightly. Slow. Even. Firm rubs over himself as he felt that wetness gathering with his clit throbbing lightly. He dragged his teeth over his lip when his phone pinged next to him. Ignore it. Ignore, ignore, ignore it. He flicked his fingers clumsily over his nipple while he rubbed at himself with fingers pressing in against himself with his inner walls spasming together. Shouta was handsome man.
An absolutely stunning man that he wants so badly. He can't lie to himself. He could but what use would it do? To deny himself? To hide it from himself? He squirmed over the blanket when he palmed at himself with the heel of his hand rubbing into himself right above his swelling clit. What kind of lover would Shouta be? He wants to know. He wants to know if the black-haired man would be the type to lay him out on the bed. To eat him out until he was shaking then make love to him. What would that be like?
Would it be a tender, sweet lovemaking that would leave him gasping beneath him? If he was the type to bend him over and fuck him with his face pressed into the mattress as he struggled to breathe. If Shouta would be the type to fuck him in the entry way because he just couldn't wait anymore. If he would be fucked up against his shower wall with that tenderness to it to get him whimpering as he clutched at those broad shoulders. If Shouta liked to have hands in his hair. He wanted nothing more than to claw up that broad back of his.
His shoulder and upper arms. He wants to trap himself on his lap and tease the man until he was red faced. Until he was harder than anything beneath him as he wriggled in his lap until the black-haired man took that control from him. He wants to watch those full lips part and curl. He wants to be slammed down with his lower half raised up and fucked silly with that anger aimed down at him. He wants those crackling eyes on him more than anything. He wants Shouta. Wants, wants, wants. God, he needs it.
Needs him. He wants nothing more than to let himself be fucked into the bed. To be indulge in a lovemaking he hadn't had since he was a young adult with his ex-boyfriend. He wants to have those rough hands sliding over his skin as he was held like fine glass. To have them gripping his forearms as his hands were pinned to the bed until he ached. Until his bones screamed for no more only to be held tighter by the man. There was a mystery to Shouta that he wanted to figure out so badly. He wants to know.
His heart thudded against his chest as his hand moved quicker; moving in time with his lazy thoughts as his breaths rasped out of him. Racing. The quiet drag of his hand over the fabric of his pants was deafening in the quiet of his bedroom save for that soft music he had playing. A quiet background sound so low it was easy to miss. What he'd give to say could be something physical. That he could possibly have a friends-with-benefits situation with Shouta with no strings attached. But he couldn't.
Not with this crush he had. Not with this fervent liking of the man. It'd make a mess, and he didn't want to put himself in a messy situation. Rubbing at himself, his phone pinged again next to him when he swallowed with a twitch, but he ignored it. He rolled the heel of his hand into himself with enough pressure on his throbbing clit to get his hips bucking up. Thrusting against his hand as he rubbed at himself with his fingers trailing over a nipple. Pinching sharply at it to get him jolting at the resulting pain bursting over his chest.
He dragged his teeth once, twice over his lip before his mouth dropped open with those racing breaths. Would Shouta treat him gently their first time? Or would this tension work against them? Would he be expected to last long with how eager he'd be? Shouta would be the first lover in a long time. A very long time. His fingers curled in with that quick rubbing resuming itself when he felt that wetness soaking into his boxers faintly. Something that was likely due to the firm outwards press of his fingers.
But he ignored it. God, he felt hot through his clothing. He rubbed at himself giddily with his fingers tugging at his nipple again coaxing his chest to arch up. Did Shouta want him too? He had certainly seemed to want him on Halloween. After all, why would Shouta kiss someone he didn't like? Didn't want? There was a possibility it could be true. There was a possibility there wasn't a chance. But he liked to hope he had a possible chance with this black-haired man. Something he wants so badly. Someone he wants.
He rubbed at himself quickly with his fingers tracing out the shape of his labia through his clothing the best he could when he whined to himself but God the sound was loud. He needed to be quiet. His room may be sound proofed for privacy, just like the other rooms in the home, but that didn't mean he couldn't be heard through the doors. He'd yet too sound proof them. He squirmed with his feet pressing into the bed as he felt the cling of his boxers at how wet he was getting. All over a few little thoughts of Shouta.
A few made up scenarios. But God, there was something hot about the thought that Shouta could want him. That he'd want him so badly that he couldn't wait to get to the bedroom. It was a thrilling, exciting thought that had his racing breaths wavering as a whimper flew out of him. His thighs fell open as wide as his hips would allow in a rather impressive spread as he rubbed at himself. The drag of his hand over the fabric deafening over the quiet music. Wet, wet, wet. He was fucking wetter than he thought he'd get over this.
His boxers were beginning to cling to him from the firm press of his fingers to which he slid his fingers over himself in a rub upwards over his mound. Sliding his hand up to the waistband of his pants and boxers, he slipped his hand down past them quickly into the heat he knew was waiting for him. He fanned his fingers through the wiry blonde hairs. Sliding over his pubic mound down to slid his fingers over his labia. Hot, hot, hot. It was so hot. The heat had him melting into the bed as he slid his fingers over his wet labia.
God, it had him biting down hard on his lip with a hushed groan leaving himself. God, the idea of Shouta's rough fingers inside of him was damn near enough to unravel him before he was ready. The idea of those rough fingers filling him up with how thick they are was an exciting thought. The idea of having those fingers in his pussy, in his ass, was all too exciting for him. It was turn on like nothing fucking else. He shifted himself slightly with his fingers fanned out into a V shape as he slid his fingers along his labia.
Gathering that wetness onto his fingers as his clit throbbed lightly with the gush of blood to it. The arousal that was making his head spin as heat flashed under his skin in a breath taking burst. A heat that raked beneath the surface of his skin leaving him flushed. Leaving him a shuddering mess when he slid his fingers over his damp labia. His fingers in a V formation on either side with a firm press down. He gripped at his chest with his other hand absent mindedly. Fingertips nudging at his mastectomy scar to get his feverish skin tingling.
He slid his fingers over his labia giddily with racing breaths hitching when he slid his fingers up to press above his throbbing clit to roll firm circles into it. Slow. Firm. It had his thighs squirming with his feet sliding over the bed at the tease he gave himself before he was sliding his fingers back down over his labia. Would Shouta be the type of lover to tease? Or would he be the type to dive right in? Would Shouta wait to eat him out? Tease him? Or would he dive in? Would he flick his tongue playfully at his clit until he howled?
Or would he lap at him until he was twisting and wailing? Would fingers trace along the entrance of his vagina or would they slip into him without a second thought? Would Shouta rim him playfully before eating his ass? Or would his tongue and fingers find their way into him to fill him up? Would he do both at once or focus on one at a time? Would he finger his hole and pussy with both hands? It had him squirming as he whimpered to himself again as he slid his finger along his labia. Would Shouta do the same?
Would he slip his hand in playfully to tease him before touching him properly? What type of lover would this man be? He can never get a good read on him even after four months of friendship. He wants so badly to know. He slid his finger over his labia before sliding his fingers upwards to again press just above his clit. Rolling firm, slow circles into himself when his head tilted over the bed when his phone gave another ping. Texts? Or notifications? Either way, God knows he didn't want to stop now that he had started.
He wants to finish. Fingers rolled their circles just above his clit until his thighs trembled when he chose to slide his fingers away. Sliding them down along his labia before bringing his fingers in an upwards caress along the seam in between lightly. Tracing that line of his labia playfully with his racing breaths hitched when he gave himself a tease. A small one when he dipped the tips of his fingers in just barely which had his thighs springing open instinctively. Spreading themselves wide, wide, wide.
It had his hips aching but the wide spread had his labia parting ever so slightly. Allowing the heat of himself to soak into his fingertips to which he happily lost that little self-control he was trying to hold onto. He sank them down past his labia to slide them through the wet folds of skin in a slick rub that had him moaning under his breath. His hips jumped eagerly despite their protest at the wide spread of his thighs when he pressed his head back to the bed. Moaning out again when he slid his fingers over himself slickly.
Sliding down to rub the pads of his fingers over his entrance to pet at himself. God, it was just the perfect tease to get him whimpering under his breath with his hips squirming side to side as he pet at his entrance. He wants those rough hands on him. He wants to feel Shouta's skin sliding against his as he rode the man. To have those hands sliding down his back to grab at his ass. He wants to fuck himself on him anyway he can just to have him inside. He wants to fall in a heap on the floor as hands ripped at clothing.
He wants his legs up with knees by his shoulders as the black-haired man pounded at him. He wants to be fucked properly for the first time in years. He wants to hold Shouta close, close, close. He wants to throw his arms around him and hold him close as he gasped his name over and over. He wants to hear that deep voice growling in his ear, the slew of his own name being groaned out again, again, again by Shouta. He wants to hear his name leaving the black-haired man as he rutted into him desperately.
He wants those full lips down on his. His hands to twist into those black curls he so adored and held him close. He wants Shouta. That much was so painfully clear but what did he want exactly? A boyfriend situation? A best friend? A friends-with-benefits situation? What did he want? Weeks ago, he hadn't been sure he even wanted to kiss Shouta and now it was all he could think about. Replaying that moment wishing he could change it. Wishing he could have reacted differently to that almost kiss with him.
He whimpered out at that cluster of emotions in his chest threatening to ruin his pleasure. Threatening to sour it. His lashes fluttered on his cheeks as he pressed his head to the bed with that hand squeezing at his chest. Sliding his fingers over his entrance slickly with that moisture gathering on his fingers as he slid them through the wet folds. Sliding and slipping over himself when he slid his fingers up, up, up then back down to his entrance. Dripping shamelessly when he petted in time with his racing breaths.
Sliding over himself slickly with his hips arching upwards into his hand as he pressed his fingers firmly to himself. Rubbing, rubbing, rubbing when he swore, he was getting wetter by the second. Slick. It had him gasping in a breath with hips thrusting up when he slid his fingers through the wet folds upwards. Fanning then out in a V shape as he fanned his fingers out. Pressing to either side of his swollen clitoris, he rubbed around it with a shudder when his hips arched up, up, up. Shameless with his thighs trembling.
Toes curling tightly when he pressed his feet to the bed with a whimper leaving himself as he rubbed on either side of the engorged bundle of nerves. Fingers slipping slickly on either side when he dipped his fingers down through his folds to gather that wetness on his fingers. Sliding them back up to rub on either side of his clit as his breaths trembled when he gently pinched at his clit. Dragging then biting at the left side of his bottom lip awkwardly with his head rolling over the bed. Pressing backwards with a huff flying out of him.
He then inhaled sharply when he pressed his fingers gingerly to the swollen nub. Lightly rubbing his fingers up and down against it gingerly when his hips jumped up impatiently with a whimper tearing out of him. What would it be like to have a different set of hands on him? To have another person here with him right now to finger him to a damn good orgasm? To have those dark eyes watching him as he twisted and writhed over the blankets? Would he be denied that pleasure? Would he be teased over and over?
Edged relentlessly? It had his breaths hitching when he began to cautiously roll his fingers over his swollen clit sending jolts of pleasure up his back to pool into his stomach. His breaths catching when he kept them slow; slow, even circles over his clit before dipping his fingers down. Gathering more of his wetness onto the pads of them to keep his touch slick. To keep from rubbing dryly at his clit. He slid his fingesr down to pet at his entrance again which had inner walls clamping together tightly in search of something.
To squeeze around something. Anything. He wanted to give his body something to clench around but the idea of dragging a dildo out to pound himself was something he was strangely reluctant to do. Not tonight. It was too much work for tonight. He wanted to merely get off, get in his pajamas and go to sleep after this. He didn't want all the bells and whistles tonight. Squirming in his place against the bed, his back arched upwards with a mewling whine leaving him as he twisted eagerly against the bed.
His fingers petted at his entrance before sliding back up through the wet folds. Back up to his swollen clit which he rolled tight, firm circles into that had him moaning under his breath at the pleasure it sent up his back. Pooling into his stomach like a low building pressure that had his hips thrusting. He rolled his fingers into his clit firmly to get his legs shaking as his feet pressed into the bed. There was the threat of slipping out beneath him, but he happily held his position. Pressing his feet down firmly to the mattress.
Rubbing at that swollen nub giddily with his lashes fluttering on his hot cheeks. He wants, wants, wants so badly for that chance. The mere idea that Shouta could want him. The fact he wants the black-haired man. God, what would he even look like naked? Without all the layers he wore? His skin was beautifully pale, so much he'd be blind not to notice but the color seemed to bleach out of him with the winter month come over them. He was beautiful. His skin paler than anything with those black curls spilling over his broad shoulders.
His chest was just as broad, but he had such a slender waist. Thick thighs. God, the man really was what he'd been called playfully; he really was "thicc". What would he look like naked? He'd seen hints of his forearms, and he could only imagine the curls of hair that had to cover his chest. Were his nipples pierced too? Or would they be untouched? He'd always admired the flare of that slender waist and the sharp V shape of his hips that were hinted at. What he'd give to get even a glimpse of a naked Shouta for sheer curiosity.
He hardly cared about size, wasn't what he'd deem to be a size queen, but how big would Shouta be? He could imagine the man being somewhere in the common size. Maybe a little bigger just based off of the man's proportions. His stature. God, would he be thick? Or would he be slender? Would he fill him up the way those toys could only hope to be? Would he stuff him full the way he'd been dreaming someone would? Fuck, he could only imagine the first time that he'd get to see this man naked.
It was an amazing thought. He never wanted a glimpse but fuck he wanted one. Just one. He huffed with his fingers moving in quick, tight circles over his clit causing his thighs to shake. His back to arch with hips shamelessly arched up to press against his rubbing fingers as his hand slid from his chest to twist a fistful of the blanket to his hand. He hoped Shouta would let him see all of him. The black-haired man seemed shy, but would he let him gawk? Would he let him admire his body? Let him gawk over it?
His body that, beneath his clothing, had to be just as beautiful as the rest of him? A body that he wanted to praise from head to toe? A body that, no doubt, would only give him the greatest pleasure? Would Shouta be the type to use his toys on him first? Would he fuck his ass with his dick and fill his pussy with the dildo? Something to have inside of him? Or would it be the other way around? He hadn't breathed a word of his being transgender, but he was going too. He swore it. As soon as he could he'd tell him.
Rubbing his fingers into his clit with those fast, tight circles that had his thighs shaking. His feet pressed fervently to the bed but they threatened to slip out beneath him when his phone gave another cheerful ping with a vibration. One that had his eyes opening to squint through his lashes at the sharp stab of annoyance. Ignore it, ignore it, ignore it. It was a chant that clawed through his mind when he continued his tight circles into his clit that had his thighs tensing. His back arching slightly from the bed.
His hips grinding shamelessly against his fingers when he threw his head back on a keening moan ripping itself out of him. Loud in the quiet of his bedroom. Deafening when compared to that quiet music. It had another moan flying out of him. And another. Hushed. There was no need to be loud in the slightest bit, he knew that. He didn't want to be loud when there was no one with him to get off on it. Strangling his moans down to hushed, quieter ones as he rolled his fingers into his clit, he listened to his own shaking breaths.
Twisting against the blanket, he rubbed at his swollen clit that throbbed frantically beneath the pads of his fingers that trembled. He was burning, burning, burning. Insufferably hot with his sweater pooled around his chest and his arms itching with the heat gathering beneath his sleeves. His pants were thicker than he'd like but he'd be changing soon. He'd take the coldest shower he could to slap himself out of this haze where Shouta was devouring up his thoughts. It was exactly what he feared when he touched himself again.
But it didn't have to mean anything, did it? He huffed out a laugh at the thought as his mouth fell open with fingers of his left hand clawing at the blanket as he rolled slightly onto his side with his feet slipping over the blanket. Tight circles rolled into his clit before he dipped his fingers through the wet folds of skin that were utterly drenched. Soaked with only a slip through them. When had he gotten so wet? He reached down to pet at the entrance of his vagina that seemed to throb beneath his fingers.
A throb he felt when his inner walls clamped together. Spasming. Squeezing. It had him breathless as he rubbed himself in time with his fast breaths that were cresting into a light pant of eagerness knowing it was going to get closer. He slid his fingers firmly against his entrance with fingers pressed down firmly against the slit with his heart throbbing against his chest. All he'd ever wanted was for someone, anyone, to fuck him. Fuck him like they meant it to get him truly gasping. All he wanted was for someone to touch him.
And if his crush meant he wanted Shouta then goddammit what can he do to change that? He rubbed at his entrance before sliding his fingers through the drenched folds back up to his frantically throbbing clit. A little more, little more, little more. He rolled tight circles into his clit that had his thighs jerking with the rest of him jolting as his brows squeezed together tightly. He kept up that tight rubbing in circles that had his back arching when he braced himself onto his left arm with fingers clutching at the blanket.
Shifting forward slightly with his fingers working quickly as they could to rub at his clit when he felt that weak fluttering in his stomach. God, if only he knew. If he could admit to himself over the past four weeks, he had a crush, then why not say it? Why not give them both what they so clearly wanted? If he wanted to fuck the man, then he could just say something couldn't he? Explain everything and he'll get what he wants. He'll get to roll, rut, and grind Shouta all he wants. But Shouta is his friend.
His friend who he was masturbating over with his moans coming out in hushed tones as he slid his arm upwards and rested his head against it. Rolling then to plant his knees into the bed with his hand working frantically to keep up that tight rubbing. His hips arched backwards with his knees digging into the bed as they slid over the blanket to spread his thighs shamelessly. Thrusting against his fingers desperately with huffing breaths being taken as he rubbed at his clit that throbbed, throbbed, throbbed.
It was maddening. Almost too sensitive. Too much. It had him jerking, jolting, as he clawed at the blanket to hold onto something. Fuck, why did this start off as a way to blow off steam but now, now, now all he can think of is Shouta? Of Shouta fucking him with his hands? With his toys? To have his mouth on him? To have his dick inside of him fucking him so good it left him howling? It had him damn near mewling into his arm as he rubbed at his clit with his lashes fluttering on his cheeks as he tried to grind against his rubbing fingers.
Tight circles of his hips as he rutted desperately as if to knock them away. Fuck, fuck, why wasn't he getting there? What more did he need? He huffed as he kept up the tight circles the best he could, but he had only briefly felt that fluttering and it hadn't come back. What did he do? He shuddered with his back arching slightly with his fingers trembling as they rolled quickly with his hips rutting desperately. What did he need? What could he possibly need to get off? He wants it. He wants it so badly.
He shifted his fingers to slide through the wet folds of skin to the entrance of his vagina when he felt that little lightbulb. A small burst of an idea when he pulled his hand away then out of his bed. All but jerking to his knees as he scrambled off the bed. He was so close he could taste it. He rushed over to his dresser with hands shaking as he lifted his cable box for the small key which he stuffed into the lock desperately. Jerking it open, his hands darted into the drawer for the box that held his rose toy.
It was a gag gift from Nemuri he'd gotten for his birthday last year but oh God if it didn't do the job. If it wasn't one of his favorite fucking toys in his decently sized collection. He jerked the box out of the drawer then snapped it shut. Tugging the top off, he reached in for the small toy when he tugged the small cap off. He stumbled backwards when he turned towards his bed to shove his laptop and binder out of the way. He then reached down to jerk his soaked boxers and pants down to his knees quickly.
He kicked at them until they were sailing off of him. Planting his feet to the floor, spreading his thighs, he pressed the small power button until it powered to life. Sucking with its mild vibrations, he clicked at the button to its highest setting then reaching down. Spreading his labia with his left hand, he stuffed the toy up between them with a slight wiggle when he whined. He knew he was being impatient with it but he wanted to get off. He wants it so bad he can taste it but he changed the angle and-
Oh. Ohhh, it had him throwing his head back on a gasp as he leaned backwards onto his shaking left hand as he kept the toy right in place. Sucking at his clit with a pulsing vibration that had him moaning quietly to himself as his hips bucked. Pressing up into the toy that sucked at his clit so fucking good. God, if it wasn't covering it perfectly. He wondered if Shouta would be okay with him. With his "bits" as Nemuri put it. If the black-haired man would get down between his thighs and eat him out just like this.
If he would suckle at his clit until his thighs were squirming and his feet sliding over the bed. If the black-haired man would fuck him with his tongue before moving down to lick at his hole before rimming him. He'd give anything to see that stubble covered chin glistening with his wetness. With his come. To watch those dark eyes, stare up at him as he ate him out with hands kneading at his thighs. Holding his hips down to the bed when he bucked up to press into his mouth. If Shouta would devour him with his mouth alone.
How hot his mouth would have to be on his clit. On his labia. It had him shuddering at the idea as he squirmed with hips bucking again into the suction of the toy vibrating in his hand. He let out another hushed moan to himself with his thighs shaking lightly with his feet digging into the floor. As if bracing himself preemptively. Fuck, what he'd give to have the heat of a mouth on him. To have hands sliding along his shaking thighs with fingers kneading at him. As if to coax him through it. Or what if those rough hands did pin his hips down?
If they kept him in place? If they would keep him from bucking while those dark eyes looked up at him with that tongue lapping over him. His mouth sucking at his clitoris insistently until he prodded and played with the swollen thing. What if he held him down with a singular hand? A hand fanned onto his pelvis to keep his hips from bucking while he ate him out? Fingers sliding into his hole while that tongue prodded at the entrance of his vagina? Playful laps over it? Would he suck at his labia? Nibble at it?
God, it had his hips rocking against that buzzing toy that was deafening in the quiet of his room. His hair swayed against his back with his sweater bunched up awkwardly. He rocked his hips giddily against his toy with his fingers holding it securely in place. Keeping it right there when his hips bucked with a hushed moan spilling out of him. He clutched at the end of the bed as he leaned back ever so slightly with his hands shaking lightly. He could feel that fluttering gathering in his stomach once again.
Only this time, much to his delight, it tightened into a spark. A knot in his lower stomach that had him gasping as his head hung back with his eyes squeezing shut. He shuddered at the pleasure pooling into his stomach consistently; a steady stream of the warmth that had his hips bucking as he shoved the toy against his clit. The quiet sound of the toy vrooming in his hand was deafening but God knows it felt so good, so good, so good. There were moments in his life where he truly did believe another person would be preferential.
That he would like someone else. But then times like these where toys came in handy to simulate another person. It had him groaning to himself as he rocked his hips quickly with that toy thrumming against his clit that was throbbing frantically. His inner walls spasming together. He didn't think he'd break out toys but it's not like he wants something inside of him. Rather, he just wants the simple rush of getting off. No insertion tonight. Something simple. Something that would get him off the way he needs too.
His thighs shook in their wide spread position with his feet pressing into the floor with huffing breaths being taken as his mouth hung open ever so slightly. He knew this was the scenario he feared of when Taishiro all but forcibly opened his eyes to his crush. All but made him confirm it out loud. He'd been scared he'd masturbate to the idea of Shouta. The ideas, the theories, he had. But could he be expected to avoid masturbating all together? No. No, it was only a matter of time when Shouta would be crossing his mind when he did this.
It was better to do it now to get it out of his system. But what about next time? What if he imagined a naked Shouta next time? Or he watched porn and thought of himself and Shouta in place of the actors? He'd come to it when it happened. He rocked his hips against the toy with huffing, shaking breaths being taken. He threw his head back with a keening whimper ripping out of him at the sharp coal in his lower twisting. The way it had his thighs tensing intermittently much like the muscles of his abdomen.
So close, so close, so close. His thighs were shaking as they began to tense up on him when his gasps bubbled up his throat. Threatening to choke him as he couldn't help but imagine that beautiful black-haired man. Imagine the sight of him down between his shaking thighs as he mouthed at him. Fingers pumping into his holes with the intent on making him come while that mouth sucked on his clit firmly with that humming to give him vibrations. The way he would lick and suckle at him would be amazing.
Imagine the sensation of his erection sliding between his labia against him with playful grinds. Or how those rough hands would feel caressing his sides and back. Pawing at his chest where they'd trace his mastectomy scars with reverence. Treating him roughly by holding his arms in place by his sides while he bounced on his lap. The feel of his hair swaying on his back as he rode the black haired man with joy. It had his heart pounding against his chest at the thought of Shouta possibly wanting him like that.
The idea that the black-haired man, albeit treating him coldly, would want him like that. Would fuck him like he meant it. Like that desire went both ways which had his breath catching in his throat at the thought. Gasping as he climbed higher, higher, higher towards that precipice as he squirmed in his place with his fingers twisting into the fabric of the blanket while his toes curled. His feet pressing to the floor with his hand shoving the toy against him firmly as it sucked at his clit. Throbbing, throbbing, throbbing.
And God, it was so good, so good, so good! So fucking good! He writhed in his spot with his hips bucking up once, twice, as he shoved that toy against himself when he was falling. Teetering over the edge with his air being gasped down only to crawl out of him on a cry as his back arched with hips flying up. Jerking in thrusts that had him pressing the toy harder to himself in response. It sucked at him cheerfully with that buzz rattling his fingers and palm as he shoved the small device tightly to his throbbing clit.
"Oh! Oh, ohhhh, fuck! Shit! Fuck, yessss! Shouta, Shouta, Shouta! 'm cumming! Cumming! Ah, ah, ah! Mmmm! Ohhhh, God, fucking yes!"
It was crashing. Hard to breathe when tingles raced up his shaking, tensing thighs to explode into his flexing stomach. It had him bucking off the bed with desperate squirms wracking over him as that white-hot heat of his orgasm slammed over his head. Choking. Drowning. Hot, hot, hot. He could feel the itchy layer of sweat on his forehead and his body that was feverish. Hot. He squirmed, twisting and writhing in his spot with his gasps being taken far too loud. Much like the buzzing of his toy sucking at him.
That white-hot heat rushing through him was utterly relentless. Pounding at him waves that had a croaked moan leaving himself with the intensity in which it ripped into him. Tearing into him like a pack of fucking dogs. Eating him alive with the intent of leaving nothing behind. To burn him into a damn pile of ashes. His inner walls clamped together in spasming throbs that damn near pulsed through him. Throbs that he swore gently moved the toy in his hand as his clit throbbed in unison. Hard, demanding throbs.
His hips jumped desperately with that suction on his frantically throbbing clit had him whimpering. He finally tugged the toy away then turned it off when that heat choked him. Snatching his breath leaving him shaking under its hold. A white-hot heat that was drowning, drowning, drowning him with each throb of his clit. Of his inner walls. God, he wondered how he didn't squirt with that intensity. Hard throbbing that had him wriggling with hips jiggling upwards desperately as if to soothe that throbbing.
It had him whimpering, damn near mewling, pleadingly. A half slurred mewl of Shouta's name leaving him breathlessly as if it could stop his orgasm. Kill it now before he went insane over it. Shaking, shaking, shaking until his body slumped with his hips dropping to hit the edge of the bed causing it to bounce. Gasping when that white-hot heat dragged itself out of him slowly with nails clawing beneath the surface of his skin. Slow. It was going to drive him insane even if that maddening throbbing had finally stopped.
He shook when he let his back drop to the bed with the toy in hand when he gasped in a breath only for it to rush out far too fast for his liking. Panting shakily with his heart pounding against his chest sickeningly; as if it could jump right out of it at any moment. His chest heaved with his panting breaths as he stared up at the ceiling with that euphoria rushing over him. It was so fucking good. Then he felt a wave of embarrassment rush over him when the reality of the situation wasted little time in hitting him.
And he let out a low groan to himself when he dropped the rose toy with his hands coming up to cover his burning face. The reality hitting him like a pound of bricks as he panted into his palms. It was mortifying realizing that he'd masturbated over Shouta, but he didn't regret it. And he didn't know what would be worse; that he masturbated over the thought of his best friend and regretted it or this situation. That he indeed masturbated over the thought of his best friend and he was certainly not regretting it.
He didn't know what could be worse about it. He let out a slow sigh before pushing himself upwards again when his phone gave another cheerful ping beside him. God, who the hell could be contacting him so consistently? Who was trying to get his attention this entire time? Or was it random apps giving him the usual notifications that he got throughout the day? He had not a clue but goddammit if it wasn't ruining this moment of masturbation for him. Even if it made him embarrassed over who he masturbated over.
It didn't help with his phone pinging beside him. Constantly going off while he was trying to rub one out by himself. It was a bit of a hassle that he didn't want to deal with when he was trying to get himself off like this. At the very least, he cleared away a few notifications from a few apps that were taking up space on his phone. Apps that, depending on what they were, he might just delete to keep from getting more notifications in the future. It had him sighing out when he lifted himself up slightly with a grunt.
Pushing with his shaking legs that seemed weak with the aftereffects of his orgasm while his inner walls panged lightly with light throbs. His clit was panging with its own throbs that had him hesitant to bring his thighs together for he knew it would be insufferable. There was always a gracing moment after masturbation when he wanted to put his head through a wall rather than touch his clit. It was always the most sensitive after an orgasm and he'd rather not fuss with it or cause any accidental stimulation towards it.
He knew for a while that wiping was going to be a pain. Shifting slightly with his feet planting to the carpeted floor, he twisted slightly to get his phone in view at least. He grunted when he reached over for the device with his glasses slipping down his nose. He powered up his screen to find quite a few from Facebook and Snapchat that he swiped away when he found a text from Shouta. Asking what he was up too for the night, how his grading was going, and he found his face burning with a rush of heat.
Here this man was, being considerate and kind while he'd just rubbed one out over him. It was an odd fucking world, now, wasn't it? He felt mortified when he swallowed before forcing himself to unlock his screen to tap on the notification to which he forced his shaking thumbs to move. Typing out a reply to the black-haired man then following it with another explaining he'd be in the shower and would be back shortly. He tossed his phone back onto the bed when he pushed himself up onto shaking legs only to drop down.
He huffed when he hit the bed, his hair flying about his shoulders, when he swallowed. He tensed himself when he then pushed himself up onto his wobbly legs when his face burned with a fresh blush as he turned. He grabbed his rose toy then stumbled to his dresser to tug the drawer open again. Reaching inside for his disinfectant toy wipes, he tugged a few out then rubbed the silicone rose in his hand down. Dipping his finger into the center with gentle swirls then firmer slides through the petals.
Then he picked u the small cap for it to pop it into place. Putting it back into its black box, he slipped it into the drawer then snapped it shut when he grabbed the small key. Twisting it to lock the drawer up again, he slipped it under his cable box then opened the second drawer to grab a pair of pink silk pajamas for the night. He turned on his shaking legs to stumble towards the bathroom when he awkwardly tugged at his sweater. Trying to get it off without dropping his pajamas proved to be rather difficult but not impossible.
He stumbled blindly forward before getting the damn thing off without ripping out his hearing aids, but his glasses dangled dangerously on the end of his nose. Shoving it into place, he threw the sweater into his hamper before stumbling into the black bathroom where he flicked the light on. Flinching at the bright light above him, he found himself pausing before the mirror. His hair was wildly mussed from rubbing over the blankets so restlessly. Wild locks sprung up to lightly brush at the sides of his face.
A faint glistening sheen of sweat on his forehead and cheeks from the change in heat in his bedroom. His cheeks smothered in a brilliant red that was a blotchy sight that had him flinching slightly at the sight. Pupils blown wide rendering the green of his irises to mere rings with his glasses slipping down his nose. His skin glistening faintly with that sweat when he glanced away with a shaky exhale. He placed his silk pajamas onto the sink counter before stumbling on jelly-like legs towards the shower.
His legs did not like the weight he was placing onto them, but he had to move. As if he could run away from the reality of what he'd just done. What he'd more than likely do again because holy shit was that the hardest, he's ever come without squirting. It had his cheeks burning when he slid his hand past the shower curtain to touch the knob on the wall. Then he heard his phone chirping from the bedroom with another ping. Another text? He had not a clue, but he twisted the knob on the showerhead sharply.
It allowed for water to pound against the shower walls and floor when he reached up to turn his hearing aids off. Pulling them from his ears carefully, he placed them onto the sink when he reached up for his glasses. Tugging them off, he then folded them up only to place them down on the counter with his hearing aids. He then ran his fingers through his hair to scratch at his head restlessly with shaking hands. He turned to the shower, bracing himself before tugging the curtain out of the way with a deep breath.
Then he stepped over the lip of the shower to plunge himself under the lukewarm water. It leaned a bit colder than he'd normally set it, which had him shuddering as water splattered the top of his head only to run down his back. Shuddering under the chilled blast that soaked into his hair quickly when he gasped in before stumbling back with water sloshing over his feet. Silent. He leaned against the shower wall then slid down to sit on the floor of it with water hitting his legs as he shuddered at the biting chill.
But it was the wake up call he needed. His face still burned with that blush when he smoothed his hands over his hair with water rushing down his back when he squeezed it out. And shuddering on his shower floor, he found himself stretching his legs out slightly as they trembled lightly before he groaned to himself. At least, he hoped it was a groan judging by the vibrations in his throat, but he found himself hiding his hot face into his hands once again. He didn't need to theorize, nor did he need to guess.
He didn't have to play innocent and question what it meant when he knew good and well what the truth was. He had just done something that was completely and utterly undeniable even to himself. He'd masturbated to the thought of his friend, a best friend, fucking him silly. Of a man he wasn't sure that he could or should have. It was an act that was utterly undeniable even to himself which is what mortified him the most. He didn't have to play coy. To be naïve. Not to himself when the truth was right in front of him.
And the truth was that he is fucked.
