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They started with kissing. Lots of it, even, until Reki went boneless under Langa. He loved doing this, biting his lips and sucking on his tongue until he could feel the nerves and tension roll out of Reki’s body, melt in the heat between them.
"This is alright, Reki?" Langa asked, blush crossing his cheeks, when he pulled back from sucking his bottom lip. He was straddling Reki, letting him lean against the headboard, and between the warm thighs beneath him and Reki's hands branded against his waist, he already felt light and airy, delighted by the man below him. "You're not nervous, right?" He stroked the long hair along the curve of Reki's ear, tucking it away from his face.
Reki smiled up at him. Not the usual wide grin, but something a little softer that stretched across his pink lips and curved around his words. "Nah," he said. "How could you make me nervous, Langa?"
How could he, indeed? He bent down to press a kiss just at the base of his ear, suck a bruise into the cord of muscle along his neck, while Reki gripped him tighter.
He loved the way Reki's skin turned red underneath him, the way he was leaving behind evidence that he was there, loved the slight taste of soap on his skin. Reki must have showered before he got there, and the thought delighted him and aroused him, sending heat swirling down his body.
"What are you laughing about?" Reki asked. When Langa tipped his head up, greeting Reki just below the curve of his cheekbone, he realized he was smiling into his skin - grinning, really, like a hunter with a fresh kill.
"Nothing," Langa said, a light touch of something teasing in his tone. He dipped back down, pressing a soft and gentle kiss against the soft edge of his shoulder, peeking past the collar of his hoodie, just like the ones he used to wear. His hand dropped to massage him through the fabric, and grinned at Reki’s giggle, how he tried to shake Langa off because it tickled. “Off?” he asked, reaching down to pull at the hem.
“Oh man, Langa,” Reki turned away, covering his face with a hand, but Langa could swear he caught the soft pink blush there on his cheeks before he did.
“We don’t have to,” Langa whined, pouting. He kept his hands there, though, one with a tight grip on the hem and the other fisting the loose fabric at his shoulder, like they were right on the precipice of something more. He only wanted to be prepared.
Reki breathed heavily for a few moments, his chest rising and falling miles around his rabbit-fast heartbeat. He did it until he could pull his hand away, while Langa waited there, still as a statue, till Reki could turn back to him. “Okay,” he said, like he was still convincing himself.
Langa narrowed his eyebrows suspiciously, staring him down until Reki met his gaze in return, blush pooling again.
He took another deep breath and planted his hand down onto the mattress. “No it… It’s good, Langa. It’s really good. You can do it,” he said, and this time it sounded like he believed he wanted it, and all Langa could do was trust it.
Making quick work of the shirt and casting it aside, Langa leaned back - still resting on Reki’s legs - to take in the gleam of his body.
He’s seen Reki shirtless before, loads of times, but never quite like this: the flush rising along his tawny collarbones, so sharp and jutting; the soft curve of his pecs rising above his stomach; the faintest imprint of abs below the glide of his stomach. All of it coated with thin, red hair - it blazed golden in the summer, bleaching itself in nothing but the heat and light of the summer sun in the hours they would spend at the beach, Langa coated in sunblock and Reki blazing like he was born for that life.
Every time it made him feel like he was coming home; this time it felt like an awakening, the dawn at the roots of him.
He wanted to feast on Reki and devour him whole. Cover his skin with bites and suck bruises into them, over every mole and freckle and coat the whole light dusting of hair with his spit; fill in the fine, black lines of the tattoo on his ribs with vibrant color, pink and purple alike.
There would be time for that later - for the whole spread of him. Now was the moment to welcome him to the doors. “What did Adam say that one time?” Langa asked, and Reki groaned, like he knew what was coming. “He called you an hors d'oeuvre?”
“You’re so embarrassing,” Reki said, and once again covered his face with his hand, eyes poking through the slats of his fingers. He rested more of his weight against the headboard. Langa frowned and worried at the pillows, fluffing them until the bulk of them were behind Reki.
“It’s gotta be perfect,” he muttered into Reki’s shoulder while he fussed.
“It’ll be perfect,” Reki reassured him, “as long as it’s with you.”
And didn’t that send Langa blushing? The casual trust, the assurance. The faith Reki had in him gave him wings, and his love gave him the wind to fly.
“Oh!” Reki said, laughing, feeling the heat fill Langa. “So you can hide too?”
Langa laughed into his skin before pressing his lips there too; they were both so warm like this, on the tail end of a lovely Saturday afternoon. Sweet breakfast in the morning and a nice, long skate later on, and now this - the mess of the two of them, breathing heavily in the space of their bedroom, the air between them growing thicker than a summer night.
He traveled back across and up Reki, letting his lips paint a trail he could follow forever and letting the music of Reki’s sighs fill his ears.
“Am I the first one to see you like this?” Langa asked, hovering just above his lips as he gripped Reki’s face in one hand. “It’s okay, baby, you can tell me.”
He watched Reki squirm, a hundred emotions crossing his face as he mouthed that word - ‘baby’ - and his lithe body shuffled under his thighs. Langa curled some of his fingers down the edge of Reki’s jaw, tickling the tender flesh, and he shivered.
“Yes, yes!” Reki squeaked, the admission coming suddenly. It made Langa smile, but he wanted to know more. He had to know more.
“Oh?” he said, pressing his lips against Reki’s for a brief kiss. “Does that mean I’m the first to kiss you like this?” He stilled again after releasing Reki’s mouth, waiting for the nod.
When it came, it arrived with a flutter of Reki’s eyelashes, and his head pressed forward, begging for kisses. “Yes,” he sighed, and Langa gifted him with one last kiss before he slid down the lines of Reki’s body, cradling the bud of one of his nipples between two fingers.
It tightened and wrinkled under his care. He used his ring finger to rub the soft flesh of his pec around the nipple while pinching and pulling the hard nub, all the while living off of Reki’s sharp inhales, his frantic little gasps.
He kept biting and pinching along Reki’s torso, kissing his soft skin pink. The same places he’d one day draw a mural on. Now they could flush with Reki’s natural heat, and the lines of the tattoo Reki had designed felt like they had become part of his body. Langa couldn’t remember a time before it lived there, the solitary wing that wrapped from his front to back, a memory of flying.
“Langa… Langa…” Reki sighed above him, flexing into his face when Langa teased a particularly sensitive spot along his ribs, curving back into the bed when he pressed him down with the flat of his hand against his stomach.
“Reki,” Langa said, very carefully, going still again. “Has anyone kissed you here?” He stared at a point on Reki’s body, one that Reki couldn’t make out when he was arched up and looking down at him.
“What? Where, Langa, you have to tell me - Langa!” he burst out, shocked because Langa sucked his untouched nipple into his mouth and kept sucking, the warm heat of his mouth a vacuum. He nibbled at it, bit at it and worried around it like a sweet, hard candy, one he wanted to savor because it was the first out of a new pack and nothing would ever live up to the flavor.
When he finally released him, Reki dropped boneless to the bed again and Langa let him. He grinned down at this man, the broad lines of his chest heaving against the pillow. “I think I’m the first one who got to taste you there,” he crowed, victorious against an unseen enemy.
In lieu of answering, Reki grinded his hips down into the mattress and then again into the open air, confined by the sturdy cage of Langa’s thighs. “Please…” he said. “I need…”
“What do you need?” Langa asked, then looked down between them. Langa was hard - he knew this, but he could ignore it for the gift of Reki’s body - but Reki…
He could see the outline of his cock pressed against his shorts; it looked almost painful, swollen against the fabric, and Langa almost salivated at the thought of its weeping head, untouched by anyone except Reki.
Reki didn’t answer him, but Langa could guess at what he wanted, so he brought his hand down to touch the bulge at his waist. It burned beneath his hand, and Reki twitched at the slightest pressure. For a second, Langa imagined licking it through his pants, getting the fabric sopping wet with his spit until he could coax Reki into coming with his dick still trapped in his shorts, making a mess of his underwear that he would blush about when he hand-washed them to get out the stain.
It made Langa’s cock throb in his own pants, and he rapidly pulled off his own shirt before reaching back down to unbutton Reki’s shorts.
Reki gasped as air flowed against his briefs, and the damp, dark patch betrayed his own good feelings. “You like this?” Langa asked, kneeling over him how, his face scant inches from his covered cock. “You liked what I did to you?”
He tried to press up against his face but Langa was faster, throwing his arm against Reki’s waist to hold him down. “I like this, Reki,” Langa said. “I like that I could make you this hard, this wet for me.” He gulped, looking at the length of Reki, the way his hips twitched absently against his hold, the way he could see the slightest hint of his thighs, the soft forbidden flesh he’d never gotten this close to. Pulling down his shorts halfway down so they kept his legs trapped, just a little bit, he looked up at Reki again, who was watching him, wide eyed and curious to see what he’d do. “I’m glad that you let me be your first, baby. It makes me really happy.”
Reki blushed for real then, an explosion of color bursting into bloom on his cheeks as he arched his head back into the mattress. “You can’t stay stuff like that, Langa!” he protested.
“Why not?” Langa asked, but before Reki could answer, he licked a long line up his dick through the fabric, and Reki moaned again, writhing against the arm holding him down.
“Langa!” he squeaked out, as Langa licked him again and again, mouthing at the head through his fabric and tasting the sweetness of his precum. Langa was a hungry man, and this satiated the sweet tooth inside of him.
Humming against his cock, he revelled in the slight sounds emanating from Reki, in the way his thighs seemed to twitch with every motion of his tongue. He was like candy, all over again, every new chocolate from a whole mysterious box of them, a surprise in every bite.
He wanted all of it suddenly, desperate for the whole box no matter how unhealthy. If he wanted something, he had to reach out and take it.
So he pulled Reki’s underwear down too, felt it catch on the globes of his ass in a way that left him breathless, and salivated all over again at the sight of Reki’s cock, jutting out from him, pink and hard and perfect for him.
Well, maybe it was perfect. “Reki?” he asked, looking up at Reki, the absolute picture of innocencd, even with the taste of precum in his mouth and spit dripping down his lips. “Has anyone-”
“Yes!” Reki cried. “Wait… no? Yes? Dammit, Langa,” like he was on the cusp of something beautiful - and maybe he was, maybe he could feel Langa’s breaths on his dick, maybe Langa was too mean to stop playing with his aching dick, giving it its first respite in ages. “You’re my first, you know that!”
And sure, Langa knows, but how can he know without asking Reki, desperately wanting to know who once possessed the lines of his body and the taste of his flesh before? He needed to clarify, needed to make certain, because these things came in parts. Even if he were the first person to touch this scrap of skin - and he brushed one hand against the tender spot below his ribs - would he be the first to touch here - a lazy stroke down the crease where his thigh met his hip, along the stretch marks riddled brown with age, memory of a tumultuous growth spurt - too?
He could feel Reki groan in the way it railed down the whole length of his body, frustration coiled through every inch of him. “Langa, no one else has ever touched me like this, you gotta believe me.”
But… he knew one person had; and it’s a particularly bitter kind of jealousy, and a twisted, impossible one besides. There was someone else who knew the shape and weight of Reki’s cock, the taste of his cum, who could reach down and grasp one of his soft cheeks. Someone in this very room with him.
“Reki…” Langa said, in a voice softer than the skin he’d kissed. “You did. You’ve touched yourself.” It was insane - it was madness. What could Reki have done, after all, besides abstained from pleasure his whole life until he found Langa. An impossible task. A burden on his ecstasy; even if Langa wanted to, irrationally, be the only one to pull bliss out of his body.
But instead of laughing at him - instead of groaning or calling him embarrassing, or arching his body so he could hide his head in a pillow and laugh at him, Reki went boneless again, before pulling himself up against the headboard so he could look at Langa.
He reached down toward Langa, who was frozen at his waist, both their cocks still hard and heavy for all that Reki seemed capable of ignoring his. His hand strayed first into Langa’s bangs, sweaty and slick, and brushed them out of his eyes so he could lock their gazes. Then he cradled Langa’s head with that same strong hand, the knuckles thick and knobby, so unlike the long, lithe lines of Langa’s fingers. “Hey,” Reki said, suddenly very serious. There wasn’t a smile on his face, not a frown either, but some other expression. The kind that wanted him to learn something, to make him believe in himself. “I’m sorry,” he continued.
Langa reeled. “What?” he asked, the word falling numb off his tongue.
“I’m sorry I couldn’t keep from touching myself,” Reki said, in his low, strong voice that connected directly to Langa’s cock. “Sorry I couldn’t save my first orgasm for you. That I’ve played with my nipples before because it just felt so good, Langa, I couldn’t help it.” And wasn’t the way his voice cracked there just enough to send Langa reeling, pressing the weight of his head against Reki’s hand, his fingertips pressing into his scalp and relieving some of the pressure in his own mind.
Reki gulped, raised an eyebrow at him like he knew exactly what he was doing. “Sorry I couldn’t help from tasting my own cum, so I knew what it tasted like.” He pulled at Langa’s hair, to get him to look up again, because Langa was flagging - he was the one going boneless now, his legs melting into the bed so his hips could rut at the empty air between Reki’s legs, his arms barely keeping him up. The only thing supporting him was Reki’s hand, and the strong firmament of his words. “But you’ve gotta know, Langa. I’ve only ever thought about you. Only ever imagined you touching me there, pinching my nipples and stroking my cock and… doing more, maybe,” he said, and this time he flushed, turning his head away.
Langa stiffened, because… “More?” he whispered, into the space between them, the late afternoon sunshine streaming in through their gauzy window.
“Maybe,” Reki said, and then finally that blinding noonsun grin. “Only one way to find out, right?”
And maybe Langa’s like a sunflower; can’t help but turn toward the light. Find the strength inside him through the rays of gold, return that blazing smile with his own icemelt smirk. “Right,” he agrees, and pounces.
---
Reki genuinely didn’t think he’d be this into it.
When Langa brought it up on one of their walks through a neighboring park, earlier in the week, while they drank iced coffee to stave off the summer heat, he hadn’t gotten it immediately.
“Didn’t we lose our virginities to each other?” Reki had said, and knew it was the wrong response from the way Langa curled into himself.
“Forget about it -” Langa started, trying to dismiss himself, but Reki couldn’t have that. Wouldn’t have that.
He reached across the bench and tapped his hand against Langa’s thigh. “Hey,” he said. “ Hey. Sorry if I’m picking this up a little slow, but I want you to explain it to me just a bit. We’ve been here before, remember?” Langa blushed - it was always so easy to raise the heat on him, and this time it was from the memory of a few months back, when Reki finally convinced him to wrap a collar around his neck and let Reki rut against his legs for an hour.
They’d been together for a long time - been to the brink and back - and learned a lot about each other and themselves in that time. Learned the shape of their bodies inside out, the way Reki’s cock could almost reshape Langa, the way he could spend hours with Langa’s cock resting soft and hard in his mouth, the fact that Reki hated vibrators while Langa loved to eat him out.
At this point they were the furthest thing from virgins, so he needed Langa to explain it to him. Use his own words to tell him what he wanted, so they could tease out the heat together.
“It’s like…” Langa said, chewing on his straw to buy him some time. Reki rubbed against his thigh encouragingly. “I like the idea of being your first. And I know -” he said, waving off Reki’s interruption. “I know we were both our firsts, but like… now that I know what I’m doing? Now that I can give you exactly what you need?”
That sent a fire rising through Reki, as he imagined it. Re-envisioned their first, fumbling tries at sex, with a Langa who knew exactly how much he loved getting his nipples played with, how much he loved someone mouthing at his cock but not sucking it out.
There was a charm to their firsts - the awkwards stabs at sex that teenagers have, stolen moments at S and when Nanako was out of town for a long visit, one memorable time trading handjobs in Shadow’s car before he drove them back home and pretended not to know what the heady, thick edge in the air was. After that, Tadashi had shown up at Reki’s house, skulking around in the shadows until Reki slipped out of his window and greeted him. The man refused to look Reki in the eyes, focused instead on the hibiscus lining their garden, and handed him a card.
“Free entry to a network of love hotels,” he promised, and Reki choked, then gasped. When he tried to thank him, Tadashi waved him away. “Never talk to me again.”
(When he ended up a groomsman at Tadashi’s wedding, he almost told this story. Almost, but not quite, because Ainosuke’s glare could - and would, probably - kill him.)
But if he could have that again, with a Langa who knew the shape of him… “What else do you like about it?” he asked, hiding his growing enthusiasm for the idea.
Langa thought for a long moment. “I like… the idea of being the only one who has ever known you, all over again.” The casual possession, the ownership. Reki revelled in it.
Heat swelled deep in his belly. “You’ve got it, buddy,” he said, sucking down the warmth. “We’re doing it.”
Somehow all of that? Led him here, with Langa’s fingers shoved up his ass and pressing relentlessly at the ridges of his prostate, while he arched up, off the bed, letting his chest get brutalized by Langa’s possessive, burning, envious mouth, sobbing as he clutched at his pillow, the sheets, anything, as his sensitive cock twitches between them, spurting out precum, still heady with the memory of Langa’s mouth.
He loved it more than he thought he possibly could; loved playing with Langa’s feelings about it, teasing him with his half answers and pulling him back down into their fantasy when he threatened to stray from this. Reki could see, clear as day, something like guilt rise in Langa while he toyed with Reki’s cock and was grateful to do anything he could to stop it.
Langa’s other hand was holding him up by the small of his back and Reki expressed gratitude to his boyfriend’s strong arms and gorgeous core in his wails and moans, grinding into his abs when Langa pressed particularly hard against his walls and sent him keening, while Langa sucked an apologetic bruise into his chest.
It was everything; too much, not enough. He believed that this was the first time Langa was breaching him like this, stretching him out on his long, talented fingers, the ones that fumbled a little before they finally tracked down his prostate. When he touched it for the first time - the spot that Reki struggled to find on his own, always frustrated when he tried to make himself come like that because he could only reach his prostate accidentally, something about the shape of his fingers - Reki whined, loud and high-pitched and uncharacteristically reckless. Much like he’d been when they were young and fearless and had the world as their oyster - before broken bones became harder to heal from, before every injury took a lot more out of them, before Langa’s bad concussion and Reki’s worse surgery.
The scars were still a little tender, and Langa toyed with it mercilessly when he ran his hand down the long line of one of Reki’s legs, playing with the skin at the inside of his ankle and dancing back up his thigh to brush at the edges of his cock and cup his heavy and aching balls.
“Reki…” Langa rasped out, and when Reki looked down, he was a vision - a line of spit connecting his lips to Reki’s nipple, breathing heavily as his fingers stilled in Reki. “I think you’re ready,” he said.
“Are you sure?” Reki asked, tentatively, teasing. “Are you sure you’ll fit?”
Langa looked down at his own cock, hard and aching, and then at Reki’s hole still stretched around his fingers. “I… I believe in us,” he said.
“I’ve just…” Reki said, and he turned his head, hiding it in the flesh of his bicep, because he knew his smile would give him away. “I’ve never done this before, you know. You’re the expert.”
“...Reki…” Langa said, voice reverent and reedy. “I’ll take care of you,” he said. “You can trust me.”
“I’ll always trust you, Langa,” he said, and when Langa reached towards their nightstand to pull out a condom, Reki stilled his hand and shook his head.
“No,” he said, tangling their fingers together. “I wanna feel you.”
“But…” Langa protested weakly.
“No buts,” he retorted. “I trust you.”
And wasn’t that enough to get the dam to break? Get Langa to pull out his fingers in a way that left Reki hissing, aching and empty and desperate to be filled.
Whining until Langa lined up his cock and pressed himself in, inch by inch by inch. And the feeling of it - of Langa’s dick filling him for the first time, the way his hole seemed made to take him - meant nothing when weighed against the expression on Langa’s face.
Reverent was certainly a word. Holy another. Langa’s eyes were wide when he finally bottomed out in Reki, and he rested there for an impossibly long moment, staring at the space where they were connected for the first time. His mouth hung open, awe in the shape of it, like he was astounded by what Reki could take - what Reki was giving him, really. The honor of having him first - the honor of Langa being the only one to feel him squeeze his tight heat around his cock and wriggle in space even while Langa’s firm hands held him down. Rapturous joy from Reki’s satisfied sigh when Langa started thrusting and grinding, pushing himself deeper and deeper into Reki with every wind of his hips.
“Come on, Langa,” Reki said, pinching at his cock to stave off his orgasm, wanting to hold on, to extend their pleasure for just a bit longer. “You can do it,” he said, encouraging him.
Langa’s hands pressed deeper into Reki’s hips; they’d leave bruises, nice ones, some that danced just outside of the lines of the tattoo he’d gotten, the one that matched Langa’s, that filled nicely with pink as sweat and heat caked Langa’s skin.
He wondered what it would feel like when Langa finally came. Reki knew the shape of his own orgasm - the way his dick would twitch in his grip and his balls would tighten and tense, and how he would burst all over his chest with a silent shout and cry. He always went quiet when he masturbated, trying to keep it secret in the thin walls of his house or in the treeline behind S, the scant places where he could scrape out privacy. He couldn’t afford to be loud, couldn’t afford to be wanton, but because here - in Langa’s care, in his bruising grip - he could let those noises out, he felt constantly on the cusp of it, without any touch to his aching cock, just the pressure of Langa inside him.
He thought it might be nice if Langa yelled and wanted to stifle his sounds by biting into his shoulder; thought it would be nicer still if his eyes rolled to the back of his head as he filled him up, stuffed his hole full of cum and kept fucking him through the aftershocks of his orgasm.
And then he could think, because Langa reached down and twisted at the base of Reki’s cock and started pumping him. The sensation was so fast and shocking and new that Reki came suddenly, with a shout he’d never heard himself make.
His vision went white.
When he finally reemerged, he was boneless again; couldn’t feel his muscles, couldn’t even imagine he had them, because his whole body melted into the mattress. Langa’s pace was slowing down, and Reki felt wetter than he felt before, could hear the watery sounds of lube and what must be cum in his ass, and the feeling of Langa’s softening cock still pressed inside of him made him gasp.
When Langa finally pulled out, Reki was still hazy, but he loved the way Langa’s eyes zeroed in on his hole. He could feel something drip out of him, as Langa painted a finger through the lines of cum on his stomach - and that must be his come, he realized - and tasted it, humming. “Like candy, Reki,” he mumbled around his finger still in his mouth. Reki sighed.
“I wanna know what you taste like too,” he said, “but I can’t move.”
There was a finger in his mouth before Reki could even think of doing anything else, wet and dripping; he could taste the almost-but-not-quite-tasteless edge of lube, and behind it was something else. A little saltier, maybe, than his own spend, and a little bitter. Reki’s grimace made Langa laugh.
“Yeah, mine tastes horrible.”
“Then why did you let me try it!” Reki whined.
“Because you wanted it,” Langa grinned, and then scooted off the bed, eyes still locked on Reki’s twitching hole. “Hang on,” he said, before returning with a washcloth to wipe off some of the mess. The bruises would fade, with time; Reki knew this, the way he remembered already what Langa’s come tasted like and the way he already knew he hated it.
He’d sunk headfirst into the fantasy - it made him feel bubbly and light, the way Langa’s trust and belief and faith raised him up day after day.
Later, as they lay in bed, curled against each other, Reki had a thought. Half a thought, maybe. Of something they could do again.
“Do you think-” he started.
“Yes,” Langa interrupted. Reki laughed.
“You didn’t even hear what I was going to say!” Reki protested, cradling Langa to his chest.
“Don’t care,” he said, nuzzling into him. “It doesn’t matter, I want whatever you want.”
“Same here,” Reki replied, and they let themselves have a taste of a nap before Langa’s stomach rumbled, startling the two of them awake.