Posted originally on the Archive_of_Our_Own at https://archiveofourown.org/
works/10915203.
  Rating:
      Explicit
  Archive Warning:
      Underage
  Category:
      M/M
  Fandom:
      Ensemble_Stars!_(Video_Game)
  Relationship:
      Sena_Izumi/Yuuki_Makoto_(Ensemble_Stars!)
  Character:
      Sena_Izumi_(Ensemble_Stars!), Yuuki_Makoto_(Ensemble_Stars!), Narukami
      Arashi
  Additional Tags:
      Canon_Compliant, Intercrural_Sex, Frottage, Hand_Jobs, Blow_Jobs,
      Suicidal_Thoughts
  Stats:
      Published: 2017-05-15 Words: 12197
****** As Long As It's You ******
by daphnerunning, Galiko
Summary
     After Starmine, all Izumi wants to do is clean up his unit's laundry
     and go home. All Makoto wants to do is break down the A/V equipment.
     Neither of them expect to be trapped in the greenroom, or what comes
     to the surface between them.
Notes
See the end of the work for notes
Exhaustion has a physical form, and it’s Sena Izumi—if one mixes in the post-
performance jitters and endorphins that simply won’t stop.
Abandoning the rest of the Knights’ plans for yakiniku—he can’t, not tonight,
he’ll want to jump into the ocean afterwards—Izumi chooses to stay behind
instead, sorting out the press, organizing and hanging costumes to be laundered
the following day, with sweat still dripping down the back of his neck even
this late at night.
It’s easier than dealing with anything else right now, honestly.
The door to the storage room clicks open behind him, and Izumi straightens with
a jerk of his head, lips pursed, an irritated snap on his tongue to tell
whatever photographer that’s come to bother him to fuck off, already. It isn’t
a photographer, or even a stage hand, but instead, it’s Yuuki Makoto in the
flesh, and Izumi’s mouth snaps shut, quickly looking away as he hangs up
another coat. “You’re still here?” he mutters, trying not to sound cross,
because he’s not. He’s just not ready to deal with This right now. “It’s late,
go home already.”
The blood rushes to Makoto’s face, and he freezes in place for a moment, the
wheels of his mind spinning aimlessly in place before clicking together. He
starts breathing again, mind still whirling. Izumi is here--he’s not supposed
to be here?--Will he hurt me?--No, he’s better now, right?--Right?
“I-I-Izumi-san,” he stammers, wringing his hands in front of him, shifting from
foot to foot. “I’m, ah, just here to pack up our audio equipment. I’m kind of
our tech person, you know...I mean, I’m not sure if you do know that?” We don’t
talk anymore, so...
Izumi turns his head, watching Makoto out of the corner of his eye for a moment
before he sighs, his shoulders heaving in a shrug. “Yeah, I know about it.
Whatever, do what you’ve got to do, then. I guess you got ditched by your unit,
too, huh.” Casual, he can be casual. He can pretend that nothing is different,
or…better? He doesn’t even know.
Makoto’s nervous almost-excitement fades, leaving him feeling oddly empty. He’d
expected some reaction, whether it was Izumi’s usual manic affection or
something more...sweet, perhaps. Disappointment burns warm in his stomach, but
at least Izumi isn’t coming after him with a knife, or something. Maybe this is
as good as he can hope for, in the future.
He kneels in front of the amps, starting to check switches and unplug cables.
“I’m not even sure they know that these don’t just appear out of nowhere at
every concert,” he jokes nervously. “I guess I’m the technology elves?”
Don’t be weird, don’t be weird, don’t make a weird comment and don’t be fucking
creepy, whatever you do.“You’re cuter than anything like that,” Izumi blurts
out anyway, and barely resists the urge to slap himself across the face. He
swallows, irritated, and shoves his attention back into sorting and folding.
“Sorry. Um. Everyone’s an idiot, yeah. They think this shit just happens, that
there’s no work behind it.”
“Izumi-san...works harder than anyone else,” Makoto says softly, coiling a cord
around his hand. “Trickstar owes you a lot, for this live. I want to try...to
be more reliable and hardworking in the future, just like you.”
Izumi feels his face start to burn, and he firmly refuses to look up. “You’re
the one here and not ditching everything for yakiniku, so you’re already doing
all right,” he mutters self-consciously. Anyone else praising him, and he’d
bask in it—with Makoto, he doesn’t know how to reply. “It’s a good start.”
A flush creeps into Makoto’s cheeks. Surprisingly, he’s more flattered by that
comment than a thousand insistences that he’s cute, that he’s adorable, or that
he’s sexy or whatever. “Ah...th-thank you. I’ll try to do my best. I’ll
probably let you down, though...”
“Don’t be stupid. You’ve never—“
Right before he can be too blunt, too honest for comfort, the lights in the
storage room abruptly click off. Izumi blinks, glancing upward at the ceiling
and cut-off lights, then back to the door. The lock on it clicks and turns shut
abruptly, and Izumi stares, only able to muster disbelief in his weariness.
“Seriously?” he mutters, throwing down the shirt he was folding to stalk to the
door, his boots clicking loudly across the floor. He grabs the door handle,
trying to turn it, but it’s locked fast, and he exhales a hiss of frustration.
“Oh, come on.”
“Don’t panic!” Makoto’s voice comes out a bit shrill, and he stumbles after
Izumi, hands out in front of him. His breath catches on nerves, but he manages
to breathe, only tripping a little and managing to catch himself before he
reaches the wall, walking along it until he tentatively touches a part of firm
cloth-covered muscle that feels like a shoulder. “Izumi-san...I didn’t tell
anyone I was coming here. You did, right?”
Makoto is suddenly very close to him. Izumi’s eyes struggle to focus in the dim
light, and he fumbles for his cell phone, stuffed into his back pocket. “I
mean, it should have been obvious, the laundry’s not going to do itself,” he
huffs. The glowing light of his cellphone has to be temporary—low battery, less
than 10%, uncharged before the live—and he swallows, stuffing his phone away
again after firing off a single text to Arashi. At least someone should know
that he’s locked in a storage room and probably going to die. “They must’ve
thought we left already. Naru-kun’ll come back to help eventually, we’ve
just…got to wait until then, I guess…” You’re so close to me, that’s not fair.
Izumi tries not to tense and bristle, too nervous of what his reaction will
reflexively be if Makoto touches him again. Don’t cling, don’t be weird, don’t.
Makoto breathes out a sigh of relief, and is startled to feel Izumi’s hair
rustle against his chin. With a start, he realizes that he’d touched the curve
of Izumi’s other shoulder, and is nearly pressed up against him.
Surprisingly, he doesn’t feel the instinct to jump back in fear. Maybe it’s
because no one is watching them. Maybe it’s more that Izumi...feels different,
feels more like his older self, feels, more than anything...
“Izumi-san,” he says softly, moving from subject to subject as fast as usual,
his mind skipping a few explanations along the way. “You’re shorter than me
now, aren’t you?”
Izumi’s mouth falls open, then shuts again as an incriminating little noise
wells up in his throat. “D-d-don’t point things like that out,” he barely
manages to sputter, his face hot as he shifts, and it becomes readily apparent
just how trapped he is. Backed against a wall, Makoto pressed close to him,
it’s almost like—“You’re—look, I know it’s dark, b-but you’re definitely
kabedoning me.”
“Am I?” Makoto’s breath catches, and he shifts, adjusting his footing so he
doesn’t fall down. He feels the warmth of Izumi’s body, and his breath syncs to
Izumi’s, breathing out when Izumi breathes in. “Sorry. I was just thinking
about the Live.”
Izumi swallows hard. It’s difficult to stay calm when Makoto is pressed so
close against him, their chests flush, Makoto’s breath sweeping by his ear,
warm and surprisingly steady. He sucks in a shaky breath of his own, closing
his eyes when they’re proving useless, anyway. “W…what about it?” he whispers,
his fingers curling into his palms, his fists thudding uselessly back against
the wall behind him. If he’s determined, he won’t touch, he won’t scare Makoto
away.
“About your smile.”
Makoto can hear his own heart beat. Or maybe that’s Izumi’s thunking wildly, so
fast and hard Makoto’s ears can pick it up. His hand is sweaty against Izumi’s
shoulder, the other sweaty against the wall, and he swallows hard. “You looked
so happy when you were looking at just me. I can’t stop thinking about it? I
don’t...understand.”
“What? Really?” No, that’s ridiculous, Makoto doesn’t know what he’s saying.
He’s always been an idiot about this kind of thing, not understanding, not
paying attention to the obvious, and what he’d said on stage…that was just
Makoto being oblivious, right? Not getting it as always, and honestly, just…
“D…don’t…you’re being stupid,” Izumi mumbles, turning his head aside as if
that’ll help hide how hot his face is, or how fast his heart is beating.
“Obviously I’m going to be happy when I’m looking at you. You’re Yuu-kun.”
“But there’s nothing special about that person,” Makoto whispers. They’re the
thoughts he usually tries to keep buried, but if no one can see him...that’s
kind of like privacy, isn’t it? “How could someone like me...Someone as amazing
as you has to be saying something else. Because there’s nothing about this
person that you should look at, right?”
“Do you ever listen to yourself?” Izumi shifts, his fingers uncurling from his
palms, his hands pressing flat back against the wall behind him. “Yuu-kun…I’ve
told you a million times, but I’ll tell you again, because you’re awful and
refuse to listen,” he murmurs, suddenly so intensely grateful for the darkness
that it makes his toes curl. “It doesn’t matter what lies you keep trying to
tell yourself about how you’re no good. I can see through it, I know you better
than that.”
“Wouldn’t it be better to be no good, though?” Makoto whispers. He shifts
forward, suddenly urgent, grabbing Izumi’s shoulder hard. “You were good at
everything, and they let you work yourself to death, don’t they? You’re--you’re
supposed to have your whole life be ballet, and your whole life be modeling,
and your whole life be Knights, and your whole life be school, and your whole
life be with your family, but no one can do all that, can they? You kill
yourself working to h-help other people, and they call you lazy--I hate it!”
It’s the most aggressive thing he’s said in years, and if Izumi could see him,
he’d probably laugh at the fervent conviction on his face.
“W…when did this become about me, we were talking about you!” Izumi protests.
He can feel his skin prickle and tingle underneath Makoto’s fingers—worse,
Makoto’s thumb skims against actual skin right over his collarbone, not just
fabric, and Izumi gulps, feeling a drop of sweat slide down the back of his
neck. “It’s not like that anymore—it’s…I’ve been taking a break from modeling,
and ballet, and Knights is…what it is, and it’s fine.” I wish I could kill
myself is the wistful thought he swallows down, and Izumi adds, beyond
desperate to end this train of thought, “What do you care, anyway? Be glad your
enemy’s got a shitty reputation now, take advantage of it.”
“Ah?” Makoto laughs nervously, and lets the pads of his fingers drag softly
over the fabric of Izumi’s shirt. Everything will change, his mind warns him,
but it’s the part of his mind that knows exactly what Izumi is always talking
about, the part that he doesn’t listen to very often. “You think I should take
advantage of you, Izumi-san? Th-that’s how it sounds, you know...”
“That’s—what are you saying, I didn’t mean…” Izumi’s pulse thuds hard in his
ears, his breath catching up in his throat. Embarrassingly enough, just that
one touch of Makoto’s fingers lights everything on fire, and he can feel how
hard his nipples suddenly are, scraping mercilessly against the fabric of his
shirt. Stop it! he desperately scolds himself. “I meant…you know what I meant,
don’t make me explain it again, be serious.”
“Izumi-san, you sound...”
Makoto had been about to say nervous, but the little hitches and gasps coming
out of Izumi don’t so much sound scared as they do... “You sound like something
out of an Ero game,” he says softly, letting his hand scoot slightly to the
side, just enough that the side of his thumb brushes against the bare skin of
Izumi’s neck. Skin on skin feels electric, and he swallows hard again.
Izumi’s lips part, a weak little groan catching up in the back of his throat.
His fingers curl helplessly back against the wall behind him, and the tremor
that runs down his spine makes his knees wobble. “W-what would you know about
something like that?” he barely manages to say, his eyes squeezing shut. Mind
over matter is a delightful idea until his dick is suddenly this hard. He
shifts, trying to flatten himself further against the wall. “Yuu-kun…you..you
can’t just…”
“Izumi-san is good at telling me what to do,” Makoto says quietly. He steps
forward again, close enough to feel each gust of Izumi’s breath against his
cheek, his own warm, shallow, irregular. “So...if you want me to stop...it’s
easy to say something like that, right?”
“I—“
Makoto’s right—it would be incredibly easy to tell him to stop. The fact he
could and simply isn’t makes his mouth dry, and and Izumi swallows audibly,
shutting his eyes again. “You…you don’t know what you’re doing,” he settles for
instead, desperately trying for higher ground. “Yuu-kun, I…just because I’m
like this, it doesn’t mean you have to…”
Makoto’s hand moves almost before he tells it to, cupping Izumi’s face. It’s
warmer than he’d expected. In his mind, Izumi is almost a statue, not a living,
breathing person who trembles when he’s touched. “This is probably the first
thing I’m doing because I just want to,” he breathes, bold in the dark, and
leans forward to seal their mouths together.
This is a dream is the first thing that comes to Izumi’s mind, for not the
first time today. It has all the trappings of a dream—being locked in a room
together, Makoto pressing so close to him that he can feel every breath—but
Makoto’s mouth is so warm against his own, and Izumi hears himself make a
pathetic, breathy noise before his hands helplessly grab for handfuls of
Makoto’s shirt, clinging to him to try and keep him close.
Makoto will come to his senses soon enough, so Izumi takes what he can for now.
His own, returned kiss is hungry, and every swipe of his tongue coaxes Makoto’s
into his mouth so he can suck on it with a whimper leaving his throat.
It probably shouldn’t be his first thought, but what occurs to Makoto before
anything else is I really am an idiot, aren’t I?
It seems so obvious, now that Izumi is clinging to him, that this is what Izumi
has always wanted. But honestly, now that Izumi is clinging to him...who cares?
All that matters is that no one is yelling at him, no one is screaming, no one
is disgusted or disappointed. Izumi is soft and pliant in his hands, and Makoto
leans in, pressing Izumi body-to-body against the wall. The darkness isn’t
scary, it’s comforting, keeping both of them away from the stupid ideas that
always seem to keep them apart. He opens his mouth tentatively, letting his
tongue delve into Izumi’s mouth, hands tightening on Izumi’s waist.
Izumi’s breath hiccups in his chest as he feels Makoto’s fingers curl around
his waist, surprisingly sure, surprisingly steady. His own knees wobble in
turn, and he feels his teeth graze against Makoto’s tongue. His toes curl as he
sags back into the wall, pulling Makoto against him until he shifts, his breath
hitching again when he feels his cock rub against Makoto’s hip. Izumi curses
his own over-eager hormones, his cheeks hot as he tips his head back to catch
his breath. “Sorry,” he whispers. “Yuu-kun, you’re just…”
“Kissing me is really that good?”
The words are soft as Makoto marvels, hands tightening even more when Izumi is
so beautifully responsive to his touches. It makes him brave, spurs him on as
he nips at Izumi’s bottom lip, not pulling back from the body-to-body contact.
It doesn’t scare him as much as he’d thought it would, feeling the obvious
proof of how much Izumi wants him. In all honesty, it’s probably just that
Izumi feels so small like this, shorter than him, waist slender in his hands.
Hesitantly, he reaches up a hand, letting it brush over Izumi’s chest. “Izumi-
san...you should...let me touch you.”
“O-okay.” It’s probably too fast of a reply to be cool, but Izumi isn’t exactly
thinking with anything but his dick right now. It aches, twitches when Makoto’s
fingers ghost even remotely near his nipples, and Izumi’s lips part, a
shuddering sigh escaping. “You can…you can do anything you want.”
“Y-you...you like this...right, Izumi-san?”
It’s hard not to be his usual nervous self, even when Izumi is touching him so
urgently, so sweetly. “It feels like you like it.” His hand splays out, thumbs
stroking over the smooth muscles of Izumi’s chest, a bit envious of all that
tone. “You’d be...pushing me away if you didn’t, right?”
If I come just because Yuu-kun is vaguely touching my chest and very vaguely
embarrassing me, I’ll die,Izumi thinks, and he rocks back onto his heels,
slumping into the wall with a slow shudder. “I…” His gaze flicks down, try to
follow Makoto’s hands in the dim light. His nipples ache, anticipating the
touch, and he has to shut his eyes again. “I think…about you touching me all
the time,” he manages hoarsely, his fingers curling so tightly into Makoto’s
shirt that he hears his knuckles pop. “Please don’t stop, I’ll…”
“Do you...like being touched like this?” Makoto whispers, eyes dilated in the
darkness, watching Izumi’s breath come fast. “I’ve always wanted to do this
to...”
He swallows, avoiding sayingto a girl, and kisses Izumi again, then lets his
thumbs drag over Izumi’s nipples.
Izumi’s ragged gasp is lost against Makoto’s mouth, and he lurches forward,
trying not to seem too eager, but unable to help himself. Just that simple
brush over his nipples goes immediately south, making his cock twitch,
straining against the front of his trousers. They’re already tight, and this
makes it worse, making it hard not to lurch forward and grind against Makoto
mindlessly. He can fill in the blanks—you weren’t thinking about doing this to
me, you wanted to do it to a pretty girl, I’m not stupid—but that doesn’t stop
his dick from being hard.
Hormones take over, and Makoto moves fast, that little gasp spurring him to
shove Izumi hard against the wall, leaning in and kissing him hard. His body
presses against Izumi’s in the dark, their breath mingling. His own cock
strains at the front of his pants, and he shifts, rubbing against Izumi’s own
cock, his breath coming faster. “Glad it was this way,” he groans, burying his
face in Izumi’s neck. “With you. Ah, I’m being gross, but I can’t stop--”
Izumi’s gasp turns to a panting, rumbling groan in the back of his throat, and
his hands drag down, grabbing handfuls of Makoto’s ass to drag him closer the
second he feels how hard Makoto’s cock is. It throbs against Izumi’s, hard and
hot, and Izumi sags into the wall, letting Makoto press him hard against it,
giving him every chance to rub against him. “I-it’s not gross,” he rasps, his
eyes fluttering. “N-not to me. Ah, Y…Yuu-kun, that feels good…”
“F-feels good to me, too,” Makoto gasps, biting down a low moan. He grinds a
little helplessly, eyes closed, seeking more pleasure without thinking of where
it’s coming from. If he pauses to think about how he’s in a dark room, grinding
his cock against another guy--against the guy that he’s always wanted, but
always wanted to escape from too--that would be enough to send him into panic.
But like this, when everything is just hot and sweet and friction... “This
is...good, right? Oniichan, I--”
Fuck Izumi frantically thinks, which is the last thought he’s really able to
have. His cock throbs, achingly, desperately hard, dripping already and
dripping more when Makoto calls out that name, and he comes with a breathy,
bitten back whine, his face stuffed into Makoto’s hair, his fingers shakily
grabbing into whatever part of Makoto he can manage to hold onto. His knees
shake and wobble, threatening to give out when the mess he’s made immediately
blooms hot and wet through his pants.
Of all the emotions, it’s relief that courses most strongly through Makoto,
making him shudder and gasp, realizing that Izumi does like this, Izumi does
want to touch, Izumi doesn’t hate him after all. His thighs tremble and shake
as he leans forward, pressing Izumi into the wall, humping desperately against
one toned thigh for a few frantic thrusts until he stills, chest heaving, warm
wetness blooming in his pants. He grabs onto Izumi hard, holding him close as
he shudders. His mouth winds up at Izumi’s ear, hot wet breaths panting out.
“I...ahhh, Izumi-san, I wish I could look at you right now...”
Onii-chan was nice for a moment, but now, it’s almost better that it’s just
Izumi-san again. If Makoto had called him that again, it would have been far
too much. “I’m glad you can’t,” he groans, his head thunking back against the
wall. “My face right now is no good.” Izumi swallows, shifting on unsteady
legs. “Yuu-kun, you came so much, I can feel it…”
“Eh? I think it’s a pretty normal amount? It’s normal for me...” Makoto reaches
up, face very warm, and tucks a strand of hair behind Izumi’s ear. “When I’m
really turned on, at least. And Izumi-san is...so erotic.”
“Don’t say things like that,” Izumi mumbles, licking his lower lip nervously.
“You—you don’t even like guys. I’m pretty sure.” He just came on your leg, how
straight can he be! his mind screams at him, but that’s…this isn’t usual, none
of it is.
Makoto shrugs awkwardly, pulling away a bit, tugging on the cuffs of his
sleeves. “Sorry. I can...I guess I can’t leave, but I can sort of...walk over
there...”
“No—no, Yuu-kun, you don’t…” Izumi exhales a frustrated breath, reaching out to
grab blindly for Makoto’s hand. He succeeds, and nervously gives it a squeeze.
“It’s…fine if I’m wrong about that. Or…maybe if I’m the exception? That’s
actually better, then I don’t have to worry about other guys getting into your
pants.”
Makoto’s laugh is nervous, but he lets Izumi squeeze his hand. “Eh, it doesn’t
really...feel that way, to me? Ah, this might sound bad, but Izumi-san is the
only guy I’ve ever...had dreams and stuff about. That’s probably saying too
much, but...I figure you already think I’m a pervert, so...”
“Wait—wait, what? You’ve had dreams about me?” Izumi lurches forward from the
wall, rejuvenated, his eyes wide and sparkling even in the darkness. “It’s fine
if you’re a pervert, you can be a pervert with me all you want. That means you
don’t hate me, right?”
“Izumi-san.” Makoto squeezes, feeling Izumi’s hand warm and solid in his. “I
told you. I never...I never hated you. I don’t think I could? But you--you do
things that are so scary sometimes.” His voice is hushed and low, something
secret between them. “I could never hate someone I l-like so much.”
Izumi’s heart thuds so hard that he can barely breathe for a moment, and he
sucks in a slow breath through his nose, trying to get a handle on himself
before he says something stupid, or creepy, or anything that could scare Makoto
away again. “I swear I’m not trying to scare you,” he finally manages, looking
down at his feet. “I…you…sometimes, when you run away, I’m just so frustrated
that I don’t know what to do.”
A little flutter of the old anxiety creeps up in Makoto, and he shakes his
head, raising his hand to touch Izumi’s face. “I need to stand up for myself
more,” he says quietly. “You probably...had no choice, when I was acting so
weak. But I’m going to, I’ll try a lot harder now. I’m...I’m growing up, I
think. So you won’t--if I’m standing at your side, you won’t have to chase me.”
“…That right there? That was super manly,” Izumi says with a little laugh,
leaning into the touch on his face when he’d normally screech about hand oils
or something equally arbitrary. “Yuu-kun…I never thought you were weak.”
Makoto laughs self-deprecatingly, shaking his head. “That’s very kind, but I
don’t think it’s possible to pretend I’m not weak. Izumi-san has always seen
the best in me, though...even when we were little.”
“So start listening to me for a change and take what I see at face value,”
Izumi grumbles, squeezing Makoto’s hand once more before releasing it. “I need
to change or I’m going to go insane. I think there’s a few extra practice
outfits that are clean, if you want me to snag something for you as well.”
“S-sure!” Makoto realizes for the first time that they’ve been having such an
emotional conversation while he’s wearing pants that are damp from their
earlier activities, and his face blanches. “Ah! You must think I’m a total
pervert!”
“Not really?” Izumi fishes out his phone from his back pocket—down to 7%, the
bastard—and uses the light to find his way back across the room. He unfolds a
couple of pairs of sweatpants, tossing one vaguely in Makoto’s direction. “Is
it perverted if I liked it, too?” he mutters, feeling his face heat up again.
He could stop blushing like a virgin at any point, that would be super helpful.
“But--but Izumi-san is--”
Makoto fumbles, and misses the catch, feeling around to pick the sweatpants up.
He turns away to change, cheeks flaming, halfway expecting Izumi to run up
behind him panting Yuu-kun, Yuu-kun, show your cute changing butt to me or
something. “Izumi-san is so mature about that kind of thing.”
“Maybe I’ve just thought about it a lot more.” It’s not a lie, but it probably
comes off as super creepy, and Izumi winces even as he peels off his trousers,
adds them to the laundry heap, and quickly changes. At least in the dark,
Makoto can’t remark on what he looks like from the waist down. “But, anyway,
yeah. I don’t think you’re perverted.”
“I mean. I am, I guess,” Makoto admits, flushing as he pulls up his borrowed
sweatpants. “You think that playing H-games is perverted, right?”
“I think it’s what guys do when they can’t get laid,” Izumi bluntly corrects,
trying not to think too long and hard about how tight a pair of stupid
sweatpants are around his thighs. “And you just got some, so maybe you should
call it quits with that kind of stuff, Yuu~kun.”
“Maybe when--”
Makoto bites his tongue for a moment, but then decides to get a little of his
own back. “M-maybe when you let me go all the way, I will.”
Izumi’s mouth opens and shuts, his head whipping around to let him squint at
Makoto in the darkness. He’s not sure if Makoto is serious or not—normally, he
can tell, but this? “You…you’d actually want to?”
Makoto shrugs, still avoiding looking Izumi in the eyes. “Who wouldn’t want to?
Izumi-san is...really, really beautiful. And you, ah, sorry, but you seem like
you’d be really good at it?”
“Every time you call me beautiful, it makes me shivery,” Izumi mutters, rubbing
at his bare arms before he glances away again. Word vomit, that’s all he can
really do around Makoto, apparently. It’s nothing new, but it’s still
stressful. “I’ve only ever been with one guy. But…thanks for thinking I’d be
good at it.”
“I hope that didn’t offend you...” Makoto wrings his hands, annoyed with how
difficult it is to explain himself properly. “I’ll let you choose where we go
to dinner first?”
“I’m not offended, I’m just…” Izumi shifts restlessly, gnawing on his lower
lip. This is too good to be true, honestly; there’s got to be a catch, but
where? “Yuu-kun. I’d let you do anything to me. I told you that already.”
“Ehhh, could you maybe say it different?” Makoto squeaks. “L-like we’re doing
it together? I mean, if you want to...do anything. Not like I’m going to hurt
you, I hope I won’t...”
Izumi’s lips purse. “I’m not an ero game, you know,” he grumbles, folding his
arms across his chest. “I’ll say it how I like. It’s…ugh, fine! If it’s Yuu-
kun, he can do anything he wants.”
“Ehhh? Really?”
Makoto tries to move forward, trips, and flops onto the ground, trying to get
back to his feet when his feet are tangled up with discarded clothes. “Ah--
Izumi-san, you mean you’d let me? For real?”
“Don’t make me say it again!” Watching Makoto is like watching a trainwreck,
and Izumi turns away with a huff. “You heard me, I already let you do things,
you should know I’m serious.”
“As long as you let me kiss you again, I think I’d be happy,” Makoto murmurs,
unable to believe his luck. “Ah...but, wait, just--just a minute, you don’t--
you--I’m the one who gets to put it in, right?”
“Please stop asking stupid questions.”
“But--but Izumi-san, I don’t--I’ve--please be gentle, I haven’t done anything
like this before...”
Makoto rubs the back of his neck, sitting on the floor, feeling like an idiot
loser who ruins everything. “Maybe you should just act like usual and just yell
at me and tell me what to do,” he mutters.
“Pass,” Izumi wearily exhales, and he drops down, kneeling in front of Makoto.
He hesitates, then reaches out, smoothing Makoto’s hair out of his face with
shaky fingers. “I don’t want to do it the other way. So. Yeah. You get to put
it in. Happy?”
Makoto reaches up, catching Izumi’s hand and holding it, not looking up. “As
long as you’ll be there, I think I’ll like it,” he says quietly. “I’ll work
really hard to make it good for you, Izumi-san.”
It’s some kind of a blessing that the room is so dark, but Izumi is sure that
Makoto can still feel how hot his face is right now. Izumi ducks his head,
biting down on his lip to keep back a smile. Even if Makoto can’t see it, it’s
still ridiculously embarrassing. “…Even if it was awful, it would still be
good,” he quietly says. “If it’s with Yuu-kun.”
Makoto gulps, and brings Izumi’s hand to his mouth, pressing a shy little kiss
to the back. “We, ah, don’t have to start that right away, right? Maybe we can
like...go to an arcade or something?”
Izumi pauses and steps closer. “That,” he slowly says, “sounds like dating.”
“Oh.” Makoto nearly flinches away, nearly apologizes, nearly tells him that he
hadn’t meant it, he’d just been saying something stupid--but he bites his
tongue on that. Courage, right?
He squeezes, and says quietly, “I wouldn’t want to do the kinds of things I
want to do with you...if I didn’t want to date.”
“…Oh.” Izumi’s heart skips a few beats, he’s pretty sure. “You’re…really?
Seriously? Yuu-kun, it’s…it’s okay, you don’t just have to say that to make me
happy, honestly.”
“It’s okay if you don’t want to,” Makoto says quickly. “I mean, I wouldn’t want
to date me, heh. If--if this is all you want from me, that’s...I mean, I’d be
sad.”
“No, no, Yuu-kun—I really want to,” Izumi hastily says, grabbing hard for both
of Makoto’s hands. “I’ve wanted to forever.” Admitting that makes him feel
shaky, makes his heart pound, and Izumi exhales a soft breath, glancing down.
“But…heh. I really thought you hated me. I just don’t want you to feel like you
have to do something like this to please me, you know?”
“Izumi-san.” Makoto feels his voice grow more firm, and he looks up, squeezing.
“You never said you wanted to go out with me, n-not even once! You just said
you wanted to live under my bed and help me brush my teeth, who wouldn’t be
scared? I totally want to go out with you! I mean, if you’re not doing all the
weird stuff.”
“Then you should’ve said so, then I wouldn’t’ve had to be so pushy!” Izumi
feels himself close to stomping a foot, but he bites down on the urge, and he
huffs instead, still pointedly looking away. “It’s hard to get your attention
sometimes, maybe work on that.”
Makoto bites his lip. We weren’t really friends, he wants to say, but that
doesn’t really matter, he thinks. “Your friends love you a lot,” he says
instead, voice quiet. “Sakuma-kun told me I was hurting you by ignoring you. I
didn’t mean to.”
“Kuma-kun needs to mind his own damned business,” Izumi mumbles, and he steps
forward hesitantly before letting his head thump down against Makoto’s
shoulder. “Sorry for being like this. I just wanted you to spend time with me
like you used to.”
Makoto slowly extends an arm around Izumi’s waist, tugging him close. “We’re
not kids anymore,” he says quietly. “But that’s...that’s okay, isn’t it? And,
ah, I don’t really want to be your cute doll of a little brother ever again.”
“I…kinda got that impression, at the Live.” Izumi slumps forward, winding his
arms around Makoto. “I get it. I swear I do. Just, uh. Don’t get upset with me
if you calling me ‘Onii-chan’ makes me come really fast.”
Heat flushes through Makoto’s body, and he giggles nervously, butting his head
against Izumi’s shoulder. “I mean, everyone has fetishes, right? Ah, don’t make
fun of mine either.”
“I don’t even know what yours are,” Izumi grumbles, curling his fingers against
Makoto’s back. “But I won’t make fun of you.”
“You probably will,” Makoto mutters. “Someone as cool and pretty as Izumi-san
is definitely just going to think I’m a weird pervert who plays too many H-
games!”
“Yuu-kun, if you keep telling me I’m pretty, anything you want will be good,
trust me.”
Makoto blinks. “Is that...something that’s important to you? I thought it was
just--kind of obvious, you know? Because you’re so popular as a model and
everything...”
Izumi falls silent for a moment, flipping words over in his head to figure out
exactly how to explain. If anyone gets it, it would be Yuu-kun, he reminds
himself, and he exhales a soft sigh, turning his face into Makoto’s neck. “It
doesn’t mean anything when agents and photographers and random people say I’m
pretty,” he quietly says. “It only means something if someone like you says it.
It…it makes it feel less like…I’m one of the ugliest people, especially if it’s
you.”
Makoto turns suddenly to Izumi, grabbing his shirt with both hands. “Those
people’s opinions aren’t important,” he says suddenly, urgently. “The things
they say--they want to get into your head, you know? But if people that you
love say that you’re beautiful--that means so much more, doesn’t it? Right?”
Izumi blinks back at him, and he doesn’t hesitate before he nods, blinking hard
again to keep back the sudden, sharp sting in his eyes. “R-right. Yeah. That’s
why Yuu-kun should really listen to me, you know. I think you’re beautiful, so
pay attention to that.”
“I’ll...try.” Makoto catches himself being weird, and slowly releases Izumi’s
shirt, rubbing at the back of his neck. “It’s all right as long as it’s Izumi-
san saying it.”
“Good. If anyone else says it and makes you feel bad, I’ll cut their head off,”
Izumi cheerfully says, clinging to Makoto’s waist. “No one’s allowed to make
you feel sad or scared.”
Makoto pauses. Then he paints on a smile, and rests his head on Izumi’s
shoulder. “Then I’m safe, right?”
“I’d do anything to keep you that way.” Izumi buries his face back into
Makoto’s shoulder. “So just…let me, okay? Don’t keep stuff from me, Yuu-kun.”
“There’s nothing to keep from you, Izumi-san.” Makoto squeezes, and daringly
presses a little kiss to Izumi’s temple. “We should go to the arcade tonight,
if we, uh, ever get out of here.”
“If I ended up stuck in here with Yuu-kun forever, that wouldn’t be so bad.”
“See, that kind of statement? That’s why my friends think you should be in
jail.”
“Your friends just don’t understand. You know I’m joking.”
Izumi’s phone buzzes quietly on the table, and he pulls away, reaching back for
it with a sigh.
To: Izumi-chan~
 Everything good? Or do you two need another few minutes before the cavalry
comes to rescue you?
 To: Naru-kun
 It’s fine now I guess…how long have you been waiting out there??
 To: Izumi-chan~
 Since Ritsu-chan flipped off the lights and locked the doors lol
 To: Naru-kun
 FUCK both of you I’ll throw you BOTH into the ocean why are you like this you
could have warned me I COULD HAVE REALLY MESSED THINGS UP
“I hate everyone that I know except for you,” Izumi mutters, scowling down at
his phone.
A lock clicks, and light streams into the little storage room. Makoto flinches,
squinting in the dim light. “Ah! Izumi-san, I think we’re saved!”
“Makoto-chan,” Arashi responds with a cheerful wink, “your sweatpants are on
backwards.”
“Die,” Izumi says with a too-sweet smile, stepping around Makoto to stalk
towards Arashi. “You asshole, I’m going to run you through and drop your body
right off the docks—“
“In those sweatpants?” Arashi teases, hiding a giggle behind his hand. “How
ungrateful, I should just let you rot in here.”
“Good, at least I’d rot with Yuu-kun instead of someone like you!”
“Izumi-san, maybe we can leave instead of rotting?”
“Don’t condemn the poor boy just because you have an awful personality,
darling,” Arashi suggests, humming a little as he throws the door wide open.
“Makoto-chan, I hope it wasn’t too traumatic for you to be stuck in here with
someone so horrible.”
“I don’t think Izumi-san is like that,” Makoto protests, stepping between
Arashi and Izumi.
Izumi’s expression shifts quickly from delighted shock to something much more
smug, and he leers over Makoto’s shoulder to stare back at Arashi. “See? Yuu-
kun doesn’t think I’m horrible. Yuu-kun, Yuu-kun, you still wanted to go to the
arcade, right?”
“Mm!” Makoto bobs his head in relief, clinging to Izumi’s arm. “Ah, but if you
wanted to invite your friend, I don’t mind...” Please don’t please don’t please
don’t--
“Ah! Please, Izumi-chan, I’ve got to watch this in person.”
Having Arashi around for any sort of moral support would be nice, but he’d be a
fucking idiot if he didn’t feel how Makoto immediately tensed with the idea.
“No way, get your own date,” Izumi sniffs, rubbing firmly up against Makoto’s
side, much like a too-affectionate cat. “And tell Kuma-kun to stop meddling,
you two are the worst.”
“I’ll pretend you said ‘thank you’ instead of being an asshole,” Arashi says
with a roll of his eyes, bowing deeply as he holds open the door. “I won’t
come, fine. But what arcade are you going to? You know, just in case Makoto-
chan goes missing and they need to know his last known whereabouts.”
Izumi scowls at Arashi before releasing Makoto’s arm and giving him a little
shove forward out the door. “Go on, I’ll meet you at the end of the docks, all
right? I have to tell this asshole off for a second.”
“Ah, all right!” Makoto hurries away, and Arashi moves, folding his arms in
front of his chest with a wink.
“So,” he asks, as soon as Makoto’s out of earshot, “looks like it worked, huh?”
Izumi feels like he’s vibrating out of his skin, and that manifests into nearly
bursting into tears when he finally says, “He wants to date me.”
Arashi reaches over, tousling Izumi’s hair. “Apparently Ritsu-chan heard from
his little Trickstar pet that Makoto-chan wanted to talk to you. I guess this
is what he meant, hmm? Are you a happy girl?”
“D-don’t say it like that, I’m so horny right now,” Izumi hisses through his
teeth, his face flushing hot in a way that he really hates. “I’m going to fuck
every single part of this up. Naru-kun, throw me into the ocean.”
“I will literally kill you myself if you don’t go on a date with that cheeto-
scented nerd,” Arashi says, voice low and very intent, eyes flashing. “After
months of putting us through hell because of this crush, you are going to that
arcade if I have to carry you princess-style.”
“He’s not cheeto-scented, not right now,”Izumi bemoans, wiping a hand down his
face. “I’m going, I’m going, but if you have any advice about not being a total
creep and ruining everything, now’s the time I’ll actually listen.”
“Ooh, yeah, I’ve got you!”
Arashi pulls out his phone, and flips through several saved articles,
evaluating them for relevance. “I’m gonna text you my favorite Cosmo dating
advice of all time, okay? Look at it in the bathroom if things are going bad.
Ahh, make sure you ask about him, not just say what you think he wants to hear.
And don’t be pushy, don’t order his wine for him--I mean, I guess that doesn’t
really matter, but don’t try to play his game for him or whatever, you’re such
a control freak.”
“I don’t even want to go to the arcade, so I’m definitely not playing his
games. Maybe he’ll be cute and win me something out of a UFO catcher…but I wish
he’d just take me home and make out with me,” Izumi grouses. He pauses, then
leans in closer, his stare intent. “His dick is so much bigger than I thought
it would be.”
“Ehh? Seriously?” Arashi shakes his head, mystified. “Would not have called
that.  Hey, if you’re going to his place, you need to borrow anything? Assuming
he lets you actually do stuff?”
“He’s the one that brought up going all the way. Doubt that’s happening
tonight, though, so don’t worry about it.” Izumi heaves a sigh. “Whatever.
Thanks, Naru-kun.”
Arashi pats him on the shoulder. “It’s probably for the best that you’re going
without protection,” he assures Izumi. “Like not shaving your legs on the first
date, you know? It gives you an excuse not to be a slut. That’s the second
article I sent you, page nine.”
“I always shave my legs, that’s irrelevant,” Izumi grumps, but he nods,
straightening up and steeling himself. “You better stay available via text. I
really don’t want to fuck this up.”
“I am honestly expecting you to fuck this up,” Arashi says lightly. “But look
at it this way, he’s probably expecting you to fuck it up, too. So all you have
to do is not fuck it up more than he expects!”
“I hate you so much sometimes, I want you to know that.”
“I mean, that’s fair, but please also consider I’m a reason you have a date
with your stalkee.”
Izumi swiftly turns his back on Arashi, beelining for where his sixth Yuu-kun
sense claims Makoto has gone. “Yeah, yeah, whatever. Talk to you later, Naru-
kun.”
~
Five minutes into their arcade date, with his hand nervously resting next to
Izumi’s on the handle of the crane game, Makoto resolves to never tell the rest
of Trickstar about this. They wouldn’t understand how fun and gentle Izumi is
when he’s not stressing, and it would just make them worry about something they
don’t get.
Twenty minutes in, with Izumi’s arm casually linked through his while they look
around at dance games that he pretends not to want to try, he’s not sure how
he’ll ever be able to keep quiet about it.
An hour in, looking in dismay at their photo booth pics, both of them
attempting model poses and then scrunching up their faces in frustration,
Makoto stops caring what his friends will think. They’ve never tried to kiss
him in a photo booth, after all.
That last strip, with him planting a kiss on Izumi’s lips in one frame, Izumi
looking startled in the next, blushing and turning away in the final frame, is
something Makoto now has tucked into his pass case, dangling from his pocket,
picture side faced away from the transparent side, the memory only for him. His
thumb traces over it on the train ride to his mother’s apartment, Izumi’s hair
occasionally brushing against his cheek. “It’s a pretty good day, right, Izumi-
san?”
Izumi doesn’t respond, and Makoto gives him a gentle nudge with his shoulder.
“I mean, after getting unlocked?”
No response. Then it dawns on Makoto, as the train rattles loudly, that Izumi
is actually asleep on his shoulder. He pulls out his phone, carefully so as not
to wake Izumi, and uses the selfie camera as a mirror. Yep, that’s Izumi’s
sleeping face, all right. The train jolts again, and his finger slips, snapping
a selfie by accident. The sound of the shutter sounds unbearably loud on the
quiet train, and Makoto winces, waiting for Izumi to wake up and call him a
pervert for taking pictures of his sleeping face.
Izumi doesn’t even shift, let alone wake. It’s not until the train rolls to a
jerky stop and a veritable rush of people brush against his knee as they exit
that he stirs, groggily shifting and cracking his eyes open just in time to see
Makoto hurrying to put his phone away. Too sleepy to care, Izumi snuggles
closer, blissfully uncaring of their surroundings. “Yuu-kun, you’re so warm,”
he murmurs.
“Ah...Izumi-san, you’ve been asleep for a while,” Makoto murmurs, trying to
keep his knees away from people crowding onto the train with limited success.
“Next stop is ours, you can rest on me all you want at my place, okay?”
“Mm, Yuu-kun has to be my pillow forever.” Izumi winds his arm around Makoto’s
and snuggles pointedly against him. “Get strong enough to princess carry me up
to your apartment, so then I can keep sleeping…”
“W-wouldn’t that look pretty strange?” Makoto asks, smiling a little. “Izumi-
san isn’t that short...everyone would think you were sick, or hurt.”
“Good. They’d think you were being all manly, taking care of me like that.”
Izumi stifles a yawn into Makoto’s shoulder. “Kuma-kun’s boytoy carries him
around, it’s cute…”
“Isara-kun, you mean?” Makoto sighs. “I hope to be that kind of a reliable
person, someday. He’s really very impressive. Ah, Izumi-san, this is our
stop...can you stand at all?”
No, Izumi wants to say, in hopes Makoto does try to carry him, but he’s vaguely
aware of Makoto’s limitations, and uninterested in embarrassing either of them,
besides. He grunts an affirmative, hauling himself up onto wobbly legs with
some effort, and drags himself off of the train, bleary-eyed and shaky. “I want
Yuu-kun’s bed,” he grumpily says.
“Izumi-san is an unexpectedly big baby,” Makoto teases. He maneuvers both of
them through the turnstile, then wraps Izumi’s arm around his shoulders, his
own around Izumi’s waist. He’s uncomfortably aware of the prickle of eyes
around them, many of whom know him from long ago, but he ignores it as best he
can. “Sorry, it’s not that close to the station...I don’t know if you remember
where I live, but don’t worry! I’ll lead you, just...rely on me.”
“I’m still jetlagged, be nice to me,” Izumi bemoans, clinging tightly to
Makoto’s arm and letting himself be guided along. “I just want your soft bed
that smells like nothing but Yuu-kun…then I’ll be revived and can wake up
feeling back to normal later…”
“I’m not sure my bed is really that soft,” Makoto warns. “It’s also not that
big, you know...ah, you haven’t been to my new place much, it’s a lot smaller
than the one you probably remember best.”
“It’s good that it’s small, then we can be all cozy. Don’t ruin this,” Izumi
warns in turn. “Just let me dream. I’m tired and really want to cuddle.” He’s
tired enough to be honest about that, Makoto should appreciate it.
“Even if I only had a child-sized futon, I’d still want to cuddle with Izumi-
san on it,” Makoto says truthfully, tugging gently on a lock of Izumi’s hair.
His thumb brushes over his pass case, where he knows their cute selfies are
hiding. “Ah...maybe if I’d stayed a model I’d be rich, and you could come over
to my fancy apartment with silk sheets or something.”
You wouldn’t be rich, your mom would’ve hoarded all of it, Izumi wearily bites
back. His hands just tighten on Makoto’s arm, gently squeezing. “Doesn’t
matter. Silk sheets are actually pretty scratchy.”
“Heh, of course someone fancy like you would know,” Makoto says with a laugh.
“Well, then it’s good, right? Then you can experience the magic of cheap cotton
that’s been washed too many times, it’ll be real fun. Um, I’ll probably need to
run in ahead of you and clean up a little first, you can just curl up on the
couch for a minute.”
“It’s covered in snacks, isn’t it.” Izumi suppresses another yawn. “Is your mom
going to be home?”
Makoto shakes his head. “She’s got a new boyfriend. He took her to meet his
parents this weekend, so I’ve got it to myself for a while. That’ll be nice,
right? Ah...if you don’t want to see snacks...I’ve been in the house by myself
for a while, so you might want to wait in the outside hallway for a minute....”
Izumi’s lips purse to keep back a horde of snippy replies to that, but he
stamps them down, both because he’s too tired, and because he really just wants
to cuddle. Doing that with a tense, unhappy Makoto isn’t going to be any fun.
“I’ll deep clean your entire apartment before she gets home, don’t worry about
it,” he murmurs, shoving his face into Makoto’s shoulder. “I just want to lie
down. And fall asleep with you petting me. Yuu-kun, spoil me.”
“What...kind of spoiling does Izumi-san want?” Makoto asks, turning down the
alley that leads to his building, face flushing at the idea of neighbors seeing
him. Well, what are they going to do, tell his mother? She would be happy he’s
spending time with Izumi again. “If it’s something I can do...you’re as cute as
a kid when you want something, you know?”
“I’m not a kid, but you can call me cute more.” Izumi glances up, enough to
recognize his surroundings—he’d be a liar to say this place isn’t burned into
his memory. “I don’t need anything special,” he murmurs. “I just like the idea
of falling asleep next to you. Ugh, don’t make me say more than that, it’s
super embarrassing.”
Makoto doesn’t speak for a moment, but turns to butt his face against Izumi’s
shoulder. “I don’t think it’s embarrassing,” he says quietly. “I have a few cam
rips of new movies, if you wanna watch them in my room? That sounds...really
nice, you know...”
“Mm. That’s fine, but don’t get mad if I doze off.” Izumi lets himself be
pulled to the apartment building, and detaches himself from Makoto enough that
anyone that could potentially see them isn’t too curious. “I’ll charge my phone
up so I can text my mom and let her know I’m spending the night. Otherwise,
she’ll file a missing person report.”
“Th-that would be no good!” Makoto squeaks, ducking his face away. He pulls out
his key, turns it in the lock while entering his passcode, and nods at Izumi,
leading him into the elevator. “It’s slow, sorry,” he says, as the elevator
grinds into action, laboriously lighting up the first floor light.
Izumi’s expression is sort of vaguely amused at this point, and he slumps back
against the elevator wall, watching Makoto with lidded eyes. “Next time, you
can come to my house. It’s been a long time, hasn’t it?”
“Mm, yeah.” Makoto tries to remember the last time he’d been to Izumi’s house,
as the elevator slowly clunks up to the second floor. “I think the last time
was...first year, in middle school, right? You had that sleepover for everyone
in the cereal commercial and everyone else went home early, right?”
Izumi cringes, that memory decidedly vivid. “Yeah, something like that. Yuu-kun
was the only one that liked me, heh.” His mouth twists into a wry smile.
“Unsurprising. I was even brattier back then.”
“They were just jealous because you were better than them at everything,”
Makoto says. “I didn’t mind being worse than you, because you always helped me,
you know?” The elevator finally clicks up to 3, then stops, a full few seconds
of silence falling before the doors crank open and Makoto steps out, breathing
a sigh of relief. “I hate that thing.”
“Why does it do that?” Izumi complains, shoving off of the wall and latching
back to Makoto’s arm, nuzzling his face into his shoulder. “Nnn, Yuu-kun, I’m
sleepy. You have to think of ways to keep me up long enough to text my mom or
I’ll die.”
“Eh? I thought you wanted to fall asleep.” Makoto twists his key in the lock a
few times, then drives his shoulder into the door to open it properly. “I’m
home,” he calls, knowing there will be no response but sighing in relief
anyway. “You can charge your phone in my room, there’s a million power strips.
And if you fall asleep, I’ll text your mom.”
“You’re a good boy,” Izumi says around a yawn, and then promptly wraps both
arms around Makoto’s waist from behind, his face directly nuzzling into his
neck. “But you can still be sweet and cuddle me, right? And maybe kiss me until
I fall asleep, mmm?”
“If I’m kissing you, isn’t there no way you’ll fall asleep?” Makoto asks,
laughing a little at himself. He squeezes Izumi’s hand, tugging him towards the
couch and flopping down with him in tow. “Ah, honestly, just let me clean up in
there a little bit first, please...”
“Fiiine, fine.” Izumi flops down, snuggling up around a pillow. He vaguely
takes in the mess of the apartment, but there’s not much he wants to do about
that right now. When he wakes up, he can go on the warpath and tear the entire
place apart and scrub it clean. “But don’t keep me waiting for too long, or
I’ll be cranky. I’ll clean your room for you later, just make sure the bed’s
okay.”
“O-okay!”
Just the thought of the bed when said in Izumi’s husky tone is enough to put
some spring in Makoto’s step. He grabs a trash bag on his way in, and hurriedly
stuffs the worst of the mess into it, chip and candy wrappers making up the
bulk of it, used tissues and discarded game packaging the rest. Some of the
clothes he kicks under the bed, the others he just leaves, making sure the bed
at least is made. Last, he grabs a bottle of febreze and sprays the whole room
liberally, until he can’t smell anything he’d consider gross. Perfect. “Izumi-
saaaan! You can come in now!”
Izumi hauls himself up to his feet, making his way down the short, narrow
hallway by memory alone. It’s been forever since he’s been here, but that
doesn’t stop him from knowing the way, and padding his way into Makoto’s…well,
it’s not as messy as Izumi expected it to be, but it smells distinctly of boy,
and air freshener. Good enough for now. He’d be a liar if the former didn’t
turn him on, just a little. “Looks about the same, except for more video
games,” he says, and neatly topples his way into bed, stretching out
immediately. “Yuu-kun’s so predictable, hmm? That’s cute.” 
“Do you...want to see some of my new games?” Makoto asks, a bit hopefully. It’s
all he can really think of to talk about, now that they’re in the quiet of his
room. “Or, I’ve got a bunch of new movies, my data got bumped up due to company
error so I downloaded a whole bunch last week.”
“If you play, I’ll watch,” Izumi offers uncaringly, fishing out his phone and
leaning off the side of the bed to plug it into one of—indeed—several power
strips. “Until I pass out, at any rate. But you’re obligated to let me lay in
your lap while you play.”
Makoto is already turning on his console, flopping down and patting one of his
thighs. “I’ve got Dragon Quest Heroes II,” he brags, much more at ease when
talking about something he knows a lot about. It’s why the arcade had been so
much fun, when he’d managed to win Izumi prizes. “Have you played it yet? I
don’t want to spoil you.”
“I don’t really play, that’s your thing.” Izumi crawls his way over and flops
down, content to drape himself against Makoto, head against his thigh. “But I
don’t mind watching. Yuu-kun’s cute when he’s really excited about things.”
Makoto flushes slightly, and tugs on one strand of Izumi’s hair. “Text your
mom,” he reminds him, waiting for the title screen to fade. “I’ve already done
the main story, I’m just trying to get costumes now. Here, let me show you how
cool my party looks right now.”
Izumi rolls away with an unhappy grumble, scooping up his phone.
 
To: Mama
 Staying over at Naru-kun’s house tonight. See you in the morning.
 
He swiftly turns his screen off before Makoto can see that, and tucks his phone
back underneath the bed. “Mm, very fancy,” he drawls, draping himself back
across Makoto’s lap. “Yuu-kun’s a real nerd sometimes, but I think that’s cute,
too.”
“Izumi-san calls me a nerd a lot of the time,” Makoto says with a sigh. “But
other people do that too, I guess. Oogami-san does it a lot. Ah, here, this is
my party, don’t they look awesome? I’ll show you my favorite place to grind.”
“Who calls you that? I’ll kick his ass.” Izumi idly slides a finger underneath
Makoto’s shirt, dragging it along the jut of his hip. “Here’s my favorite place
to grind. Heh, well, not entirely true, but close enough.”
Makoto’s breath sharpens in his throat. “I-Izumi-san...I can’t play if you’re
going to behave like that...” He feels his skin tighten, and flicks his game
onto ‘pause’ almost immediately. “Are you not sleepy? Do you...would you touch
it?” Too eager, probably, and really gross, but it isn’t like he gets someone
else to touch it all that often.
Izumi’s eyes flick up, staring up at Makoto through his lashes before he idly
thumbs at the waistband of his sweatpants. “Do you want me to put my mouth on
it?” he asks, almost casually. “Maybe I’m awake enough for that…”
Makoto can suddenly hear his own heartbeat. If he hadn’t been sitting down, it
would have been a quick motion. As it is, he hears blood rush in his ears,
flowing south so fast he feels dizzy. “Um, y-yes? Yes, I definitely, of course,
that would be...so good?”
Izumi licks his lips, his fingers sliding further south to idly trail over the
hard line of Makoto’s cock through his pants. This absolutely should be
something he can only dream about, but instead…he can feel exactly how hard
Makoto is, how his pulse is pounding through his cock, and Izumi shifts,
wriggling closer. “You can keep playing your game,” he murmurs, glancing up to
catch Makoto’s gaze again. “If you want.”
Makoto swallows so hard it sounds like a gulp from the movies, he thinks.
Slowly, his hand reaches up, threading through Izumi’s soft hair, petting him
gently as if trying to believe this is actually still real. How could someone
so pretty be touching him like that? Every brush of Izumi’s fingers and palm
feel like searing heat, dragging along the length of his swiftly hardening cock
through his borrowed sweatpants, and Makoto can hardly breathe. “Izumi-san...”
he breathes, eyes dilated. “I thought you wanted to be spoiled...”
“This is spoiling me.” Izumi’s breath hitches as he tugs down the waistband of
Makoto’s sweatpants, just enough to pull his cock free with trembling fingers.
It’s one thing to feel it rubbing against his hip, but to actually hold it—it’s
as big as he’d guessed, and heavy and thick in his palm, and Izumi can’t resist
leaning forward, the flat of his tongue dragging over the head of Makoto’s
cock.
 Don’t come just from that, don’t come just from that, don’t--
Makoto whimpers in a way that probably isn’t sexy at all, and his hands curl in
Izumi’s hair, tighter than he’d meant to. “Please,” he groans, hips twitching
as he tries not to thrust up. This, more than anything else, doesn’t feel real.
The familiar room feels too bright, the colors off as his brain shuts down, the
texture of Izumi’s hair too-soft against his fingers. When did I last take a
shower? he wonders wildly, hoping he hadn’t skipped a day during Starmine, but
Izumi--lovely, pretty, finicky, clean freak Izumi--doesn’t seem unhappy, so he
must not have, he hopes. “I-Izumi-san, your...you feel so...ahhhhh...”
Makoto tastes sharp and salty on his tongue, and the bitterness makes Izumi
groan, that much more eager to taste more. His lips part and his mouth sinks
down, wrapping around the head of Makoto’s cock and sucking it further into his
mouth.
Between his legs, his own cock throbs, and Izumi shudders, lapping hungrily at
Makoto’s cock as he swallows him down. His tongue runs nearly from root to tip,
and having Makoto’s cock that far down his throat at least stifles the noises
he’s making, soft and overeager.
“I’m--ahhh, Oniichan, I--I’ll make it up to you later,” Makoto grunts, losing
the last of the control he’d had, grabbing Izumi’s hair and yanking his head
down. That sudden added wet heat, the slight friction against the sensitive
head of his cock, makes him squirm where he sits, toes curling, eyes rolling
back into his head, glasses knocked to the side when he comes. It feels like a
rising tide of pleasure around his feet, suddenly swamping him from head to
toe, drowning him as he spills into Izumi’s mouth in shaking, sudden spurts.
Izumi jerks against the hold once as he frantically swallows, struggling not to
gag. The taste is heavy on his tongue, and Makoto comes a lot more than he
expects, coating his tongue and making him swallow audibly as he desperately
tries not to make a mess.
Makoto’s hand is still firm in his hair, and Izumi sucks in a ragged, desperate
breath through his nose, his eyes watering and cheeks flushed as he reaches up,
grabbing for Makoto’s wrist with shaky fingers.
“Izumi-san...sorry...” It feels kind of weird to apologize when Izumi had
obviously enjoyed the experience, but for being so rude, Makoto can hardly do
otherwise. His hands are shaky in Izumi’s hair as the colors slowly start to
return to his vision, the sweat starting to cool on the back of his neck.
“Ah...that was...the best thing that’s ever happened to me, I think...oh, god,
do you want me to do it to you?” The thought is terrifying, but how can he
refuse?
Izumi pulls back slowly, licking his lips, wiping his mouth gingerly. “No,” he
breathes, pulling himself up and into Makoto’s lap, nuzzling his face directly
into his neck. “Just—mm, will you touch it? I’m already so close, just from
being able to taste you…”
The idea that someone, anyone, let alone someone so lovely, would have any kind
of positive reaction to tasting something like that--
The words make Makoto shiver, and another spurt comes out before he can even
put a hand up to it, staining Izumi’s borrowed sweatpants. “S-sorry,” Makoto
says, already reaching his hand under Izumi’s waistband. He steels himself,
hoping it won’t feel too weird.
Fortunately, it’s not nearly as weird as he’d been expecting. It’s just a
penis, after all, he tells himself in relief, curling his hand around the curvy
length. Carefully, he eases the waistband down, taking a good look. “Izumi-san,
it’s really cute,” he murmurs without thinking about it.
“S-shut up, don’t say stuff like that,” Izumi manages to gasp out, his face
flushing as he arches closer, rubbing into Makoto’s hand. At least Makoto
hasn’t stripped him or anything—he can’t see anything Izumi doesn’t want him to
see, and if Makoto thinks his dick is cute…well, there are worst things. His
cock twitches hard, dripping over Makoto’s fingers, and Izumi’s teeth nip into
the lobe of Makoto’s ear with his next hard huff of breath. “Your h-hand
is…really warm…nn, Yuu~kun…”
“I-Izumi-san, if you keep doing that, I’m gonna get hard again,” Makoto groans,
letting his fingers curl, starting to stroke the way he likes to do it on
himself--only with the fingers a lot closer together, and not stroking nearly
as far. He watches Izumi’s face, mesmerized by the changing facial expressions,
almost enchanted by the way Izumi scrunches up his face, squeezing his eyes
shut, flushing deeply. “A-ah, maybe I will just from watching you...it’s
already so wet here...”
Izumi swallows audibly, his fingers clutching at Makoto’s shoulders as he
lurches forward with a last, ragged whimper, and spills over Makoto’s fingers
with a hard, throbbing twitch. It’s a slow, lingering orgasm, one that makes
him shiver and ache, wriggling close into Makoto’s lap, heaving out a breathy
sigh of satisfaction. “Yuu-kun’s so good at that,” he sighs, mouthing another
kiss to Makoto’s neck, then a lingering, sucking bite. “Mmm, I knew you’d spoil
me…”
Makoto is fairly certain that he’s the one being spoiled, but that’s not
exactly a point he really wants to push right now. Instead, he presses a kiss
to Izumi’s hair, then lets his hand travel slowly around, squeezing the supple
curve of his ass. “You look like a girl here,” he blurts out. “In--in a good
way. A r-really attractive way.”
Izumi mulls that over in his head for a moment and decides it’s a compliment,
more or less. “Of course that’s what Yuu-kun likes,” he murmurs, snuggling
against him and sucking on the lobe of his ear. “Curl up with me, now I’m
really sleepy.”
Makoto attempts to maneuver him into a better position, then gives up and flops
down next to him, letting his playstation turn off automatically. “Izumi-san is
a pretty cute boyfriend,” he murmurs, burying his face in his hair, spooning up
behind him. “When he wants to be.”
“I’m always cute,” Izumi grumbles, stretching back out against Makoto with a
content little noise. Ideally, Makoto is the big spoon. Yes, this is exactly
what he wants. “If you get hard when you wake up, you can just rub it on me,”
he idly suggests, mostly to see what Makoto’s reaction will be.
There’s a hiccup in Makoto’s breath, and then he gets himself under control.
“Uh...what if...it’s already...” He shifts, proving his point against the back
of Izumi’s thigh.
Just put it in is the first thought that comes to Izumi’s mind, but he stamps
that down when the amount of work required isn’t exactly appealing. “You’re
really fast about that, huh?” he sighs, and tugs a blanket over them as he
starts kicking off his sweatpants entirely. “Slide it between my thighs or
something, you can get off like that.”
“Oh my god.”
The words are hushed like Izumi had suggested something reverent, and Makoto
just squeezes him for a minute, yanking him back into a full-bodied embrace.
“Izumi-san...Onii-chan is going to take care of me now, right?” The words come
easier when he’s this hard, and he eases down the back of Izumi’s sweatpants,
reaching a hand down to try and guide himself. “Ahh, just--help me put it where
it’s supposed to go, I’ve never...”
Izumi’s mouth just falls open for a moment, the sudden, sharp rush of arousal
that rakes down his spine making his toes curl. He reaches back, his fingers
shaking, overeager as he grabs for Makoto’s cock, shifting to part his thighs
and guide that thick cock between them. “Just…ah…tell me, if it’s good, or…”
Izumi licks his lips, wriggling back and squeezing his thighs together gently.
Makoto’s eyes squeeze shut, lost temporarily in bliss when Izumi squeezes
around him like that. He curses under his breath, then starts rocking in,
panting into Izumi’s shoulder. “Please don’t kill me,” he groans, “but you’re
so soft here, I’d live between your thighs if I could...Ahhhh, I’m going to
die...”
Anyone else saying that, and Izumi probably would kill them. It’s Makoto,
though, and that makes Izumi shudder and bury his face down into the mattress,
his fingers fisting into the sheets as he just lets Makoto fuck in between his
thighs. He can feel Makoto’s cock throbbing, dripping over his skin, and
Izumi’s own cock twitches. “D-don’t die, I like you too much,” he gasps,
reaching up to absently tweak one of his own nipples. “Yuu-kun, you’re
perfect…”
Makoto’s eyes dart down, not missing the shift, or the motion. His hand comes
up, first resting over Izumi’s, then moving it to the side. “D-does...does
Izumi-san like...having...” He can hardly say the words, his cock growing so
hard it hurts, hips bucking up between Izumi’s thighs so hard that slapping
sounds fill the room. “D-do you like having your, your chest played with?”
Izumi’s breath catches hard as he sags back against Makoto, relenting to the
fingers on his nipples, the cock between his thighs. He nods, entirely unable
to form words for a moment, and his cock gives a weak, trembling little spurt,
dripping onto the sheets. “E…especially…when Yuu-kun does it,” he whispers, his
eyes fluttering shut. He deliberately squeezes his thighs around Makoto’s cock
as he feels him thrusting harder, his breath hiccuping in his chest.
“I-Izumi-san, if you do that, I’ll--”
Before Makoto can apologize for his hair trigger, he’s spilling, reveling in
the new slickness between Izumi’s thighs, groaning at the sweet warmth
squeezing him. His hands might pinch too hard, thumbs and forefingers gripping
Izumi’s nipples, face buried in his upper back. “S-sorry, the second time is
usually...really fast...”
Izumi bites down on a yelp, jerking against the touch on his chest, almost
trying to squirm away, but only ending up squirming into the touch instead. He
gasps and reaches back, grabbing helplessly for one of Makoto’s arms, his nails
biting into his skin, clinging to him as he feels Makoto’s cock pulse and
twitch between his thighs. “You come so much, Yuu-kun,” he breathes, his
eyelashes fluttering.
“Is it...not a normal amount?” Makoto pants, wrapping his arms around Izumi’s
waist, feeling delightfully floaty. “I’ve never, uh, studied the difference
between guys, you know...”
“At some point, I’m gonna have to measure it,” Izumi dreamily says, his head
flopping down onto the bed. “For calories.”
“....What?”
“Mm. If I’m going to give you blowjobs, I need to know how many calories it
is.”
“Is--is there some kind of lab that you send that kind of thing to?” Makoto
asks, incredulous.
“I’ve got a guy. Don’t worry, you can just come in a condom at some point and I
can take that, it’ll be really easy.”
Makoto relaxes. “Ah, I thought you were going to drag me to a scary science
place...I’m not good with any kind of physical test...”
“No, I wouldn’t do that, no one’s allowed to touch you,” Izumi dismissively
says, and tips his head back to plant a kiss underneath Makoto’s chin. He
pauses, then says, far more quietly, “Your bed’s a lot more comfortable than
you think, Yuu-kun.”
“I think...it’s only good because someone I care about is in it,” Makoto
replies, not meeting Izumi’s eyes. “I think I’d like being anywhere if we could
be like this.”
“Then at some point, we should leave and go to Spain,” Izumi sleepily says,
shutting his eyes as he settles down, for once unconcerned about going to bed
sweaty and sticky. That can be dealt with in the morning. “Get your passport
and come with me.”
“Mm, all right.” Makoto would probably have agreed to take Izumi to the moon
right now. He’s not nearly as sleepy as Izumi...
Or so he thinks, before he blanks out so fast he doesn’t even feel his head hit
the pillow, chest nestled against Izumi’s back.
End Notes
     I just want to thank everyone who commented on our last MakoIzu fic!
     If it weren't for you guys, we wouldn't have written more.
Please drop_by_the_archive_and_comment to let the author know if you enjoyed
their work!