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Natsume’s been acting strangely today, Shuuichi muses.
Very conscious of the boy standing awkwardly in his kitchen, he fishes around in the fridge just to give his hands something to do.
Ever since Shuuichi picked him up from the station, Natsume’s been…off. Quiet, flighty. Not making eye contact.
Even sensei had seemed weirded out. Or maybe just done with the whole situation, given how fast the cat had beelined for the balcony—and presumably for Shuuichi’s shiki, where they’re relaxing on the roof.
Shuuichi imagines Urihime and Hiiragi getting sucked into a drinking game and resists the urge to snort.
“Here, Natsume,” he says, finally snagging a couple bottles of soft drink. He slides one down the counter and tries not to be obviously waiting for a reaction. Any reaction.
“Thank you,” Natsume says—mutters, really. He looks up at Shuuichi as he says it, but then drops his head back down just as fast. He doesn’t even pick the drink up, just curls his hand around it with a far-away look.
What the hell did Shuuichi miss?
Sure, it’s been a few weeks since they’ve last seen each other, but that hardly explains this.
Natsume hasn’t been this awkward and distant around him for ages. Not after everything with the book; not after he pulled Shuuichi from that illusion and declared in no uncertain terms that he’d do anything for him.
Not during any of the times they’ve met up since, whether due to ayakashi trouble or simply because they wanted to hang out and spend time with one another. Catching up with Natsume over lunch, or watching a movie together in Shuuichi’s apartment, has quickly become Shuuichi’s favorite way to spend his limited time off.
(And they’re not dates, no matter how Natsume smiles at him adoringly, how simultaneously intimate and playful their conversations are now. No matter how much Shuuichi wishes they were—)
Shuuichi sighs, leaning against the edge of the counter and watching Natsume fiddle with the label of his drink from the corner of his eye. Natsume seems to be almost deliberately avoiding looking at him.
It’s like he’s hiding something again, but Shuuichi can’t even begin to imagine what.
Should he try to press? Or will that just make it worse?
Tipping his head back on another sigh, Shuuichi raises his own drink to his lips, wrapping them around the cool glass and downing the entire bottle of soda—sugary enough to give his nutritionist nightmares—in a few long, deep pulls.
He’ll burn it off in a day or two running through the forest in the middle of the night anyway, it’s fine.
Discarding the empty bottle, Shuuichi wipes his mouth with the hem of his shirt. The action is thoughtless, he barely even notices he’s doing it, as lost in thought as he is.
He does, however, notice the strangled gasp coming from his left. When he glances over in confusion, Natsume’s already turning away, jerky and abrupt, and Shuuichi can see a concerning shade of red blooming over his face.
“Whoa, hey, what’s wrong?” He asks worriedly, already twisting to look at Natsume more clearly, “Are you sick?”
Shuuichi doesn’t wait for an answer before reaching out to feel Natsume’s flushed forehead. It’s far too hot under his palm. “You’re really hot,” he murmurs in concern, thinking nothing of the action as he curls his fingers into Natsume’s silky hair, palms cupping his jaw and tipping him up for a better look. “Natsume, you didn’t come over with a fever, did you?”
Honestly, if this reckless boy is ill, Shuuichi is going to scold him senseless.
(He’s too caught up to really register the way his thumbs swipe idly over vivid red cheek bones. Casual touch and close contact has become the norm for them, Shuuichi doesn’t even think twice about it anymore.)
Another strangled noise catches his attention, forcefully yanking him from his worried thoughts. Natsume’s wide-eyed and staring up at him open-mouthed. He looks…panicked?
Shuuichi’s starting to feel a little panicked himself.
“Natsume?” He asks again, more emphatic this time. Shuuichi shifts his grip so he can tow him closer and his fingers slip, nails accidentally scraping under the hinge of Natsume’s jaw. And Natsume—
Natsume whines.
A sound soft and involuntary and unmistakably sexual.
Shuuichi freezes.
Oh. Oh.
Eyes trailing down almost without his conscious permission, Shuuichi swallows hard at the very obvious bulge that Natsume is covering, badly, with his hands.
Oh, he’s misunderstood this entirely.
“I-I’m sorry—“ Natsume rushes to say, voice high and embarrassed. He looks half-ready to bolt, glaring down at his body like it’s betrayed him.
Pushing down his own panic, and a tiny flicker of humor at the sheer ridiculousness of the situation—and another deeply inappropriate response that Shuuichi refuses to let see the light of day, what he does at night is bad enough—he’s quick to reassure him.
“Natsume, hey, it’s okay,” Shuuichi starts, hating that mortified and almost fearful look on the boy’s face, “It’s-it’s normal, I’m not upset or anything.”
Natsume says nothing, but Shuuichi can see his ears turning cherry red. He won’t look Shuuichi in the eye either, even when Shuuichi ducks to try and catch his gaze.
“Natsume?”
No response still, except for Natsume shrinking into himself more, shifting almost…guiltily? Shit, Shuuichi swears mentally, fumbling for further reassurance. “Hey, it’s alright, I mean it—you’re young, I remember what it’s like to be your age. These things happen. Hell, it still happens to me sometimes—“
“—It’s you,” Natsume blurts out in a sudden rush.
Which…wait, what?
“What?” Shuuichi says stupidly.
Natsume looks rather like he wants to sink into the floor, or possibly expire, but he barrels on with all the reckless determination he possesses when he’s committed himself to doing something insane. Shuuichi both loves and despairs that about him.
“It’s—there was—I saw your, your…commercial,” Natsume forces out, with obvious effort, “T-the, the one with, um, the ch-cherries and—” He cuts himself off there, squirming and biting his lip before finally admitting, “I hadn’t thought about, I’ve never, it—I-I can’t stop thinking about it. You. I’m sorry…”
Shuuichi feels his own face heat up, skin prickling all over. That ad was… sensual is putting it lightly. He’d been shirtless—pants open and barely keeping him decent—as he’d been directed to lounge back and practically make love to dozens of cherries until the director was satisfied and his tongue ached from tying knots. His mouth had been stained red for hours.
…Much raunchier than his usual fare and definitely not meant for daytime airing. Hell, he doesn’t even remember what product the ad was for, and he’s pretty sure the director hadn’t actually cared. That Natsume knows about it, watched it, is very clearly turned on by it…
Shuuichi can’t help the hoarse little sound he makes, face burning when Natsume snaps his head up to stare at him in shock.
“You saw that…?” Shuuichi asks weakly, trying to will away the heat lurching in his gut. His hands drop to Natsume’s shoulders, fingers squeezing gently as he searches for words. “You’re. You’re still a teenager, Natsume. It’s-its okay if you, if you felt—It was meant to be very…suggestive…”
He trails off uselessly, tongue leaden in his mouth, realizing too late he’s still kneading at Natsume’s shoulders when the boy shivers hard under his hands.
This is…so close to what he’s wanted. Is what he’s wanted, at least in part, if Shuuichi admits to those fantasies. He can’t help but hope…
No. This is heading into dangerous territory. So Natsume’s clearly attracted to him in some way, okay, but that doesn’t mean he feels the same way Shuuichi does. And he’s a teenager, he’s allowed to be confused and horny. It doesn’t mean Shuuichi can just take advantage—
But before he can remove his hands, back away and clear his head enough to be the adult about this, Natsume’s hands creep up to circle his wrists. A motion so shy, so painfully cautious compared to the quiet confidence of Natsume’s usual touch. And there’s no way on earth Shuuichi would ever shake him off.
He knows he’s in trouble by the way Natsume’s peering up at him from under his bangs. That searching, cat-eyed look that’s always seen through every last bit of Shuuichi’s bullshit.
He knows what Natsume must see. His telltale flush, the hope and yearning in his heart, showing too-obvious by far on his face…
He can’t hide from Natsume. He doesn’t want to.
Whatever Natsume finds in his expression, it’s enough to give him courage. But then, he’s always had enough courage for the both of them.
“It was,” Natsume starts, taking a deep breath and squeezing Shuuichi’s wrists tight, “—was you. Natori-san. Not just because…I’ve never thought about—not with anyone else. I don’t want to think about anyone else. Just. Just you.”
Oh.
Beneath the clanging mess of emotion rattling about in his skull, all Shuuichi can think is, ‘Natsume wants me. Only me.’
And he might be the adult here, but Shuuichi…Shuuichi is also utterly, hopelessly in love.
Heartbeat pounding loud in his ears, Shuuichi makes a decision. He tugs Natsume closer, searching for the words he needs, voice hoarse as he finally manages a tight, “I. I actually. That’s. Not something you have to apologize for. If anything you—have my permission to think—but if you want, I’d rather. Um. What I mean to say is if you’re going to—think those things. I am. Available. In person. For you.”
As far as terrible confessions go, that’s probably in the top ten. Shuuichi wants to smack himself, except Natsume looks a little like Shuuichi smacked him instead.
“In person?” Natsume says—squeaks, really—eyes wide as saucers. “You mean you—you’d want to—”
Wincing at his own inability to hold onto even the semblance of steadiness for Natsume’s sake, Shuuichi nods, then chews at his lip, sure he’s red all the way to the tips of his ears.
“Yeah. Very much so. But I also—that is. I’ve had thoughts of my own, a lot of them, but some of them are more about—taking you on dates? Rather than, ah, taking you?”
“Oh,” Natsume breathes, so wonderstruck Shuuichi nearly has to look away with a sudden flood of shyness, “Um. Both? Please? I’ve never been on a date—well, obviously. But I’ve also wanted to, to spend more time with you, Natori-san. Not just because of…that, but because I really like being with you. So I definitely—what I mean is—yes, please?”
Tension drains from Shuuichi’s body so fast he nearly slumps over with it, huffing a faint laugh with the relief coursing through his body. “Of course—”
Then he springs back up just as abruptly.
“Wait, hold on. I’m doing this all backwards and you. You deserve better from me, Natsume. Let me—”
Shuuichi inhales slowly and cups Natsume’s face again with gentle hands, smiling down at him with all of the fathomless affection in his heart. “I like you very much, Natsume Takashi. Would you go out with me?”
He watches a shy smile bloom like sunrise over Natsume’s face, feels the boy’s jaw working against his hands as Natsume swallows and replies, “I-I like you too, Natori-san. A lot. I’d love to go out with you.”
Shuuichi’s beaming, he must be, bright and boyish with the joy welling in his chest. “Oh, good,” he breathes, leaning in to knock their foreheads together, soft and affectionate.
“In that case…may I kiss you?” he adds softly, a thumb brushing at the edge of Natsume’s lips.
He’s rewarded with a stunned little gasp, plush lips parting beneath his touch.
“Yes please,” Natsume whispers, one hand rising to anchor in Shuuichi’s shirt, “If you’re sure—I’ve never, it probably won’t be very good…”
This boy. Shuuichi laughs softly, giddily. “It’s you,” he murmurs, “It’ll be good.”
With that, he closes the distance between them, brushing a very soft, very chaste kiss over Natsume’s lips.
“Oh.” Natsume inhales against him, tensing up and relaxing just as quick, eyes slowly fluttering closed. Shuuichi holds the contact for a long moment, just enjoying the soft, warm press.
Natsume’s gaze is half-lidded and a little dazed when he finally pulls back.
“…Do that again,” he says, not a demand or a plea but somewhere in between. Shuuichi is more than happy to comply.
Their second kiss is firmer, wetter. Lips parted just enough to make the glide smooth. This time, Natsume tries to mimic Shuuichi’s movements, even testing out little nudges and pecks of his own. It’s a little clumsy, sure, his inexperience obvious, but Shuuichi’s more than enjoying Natsume’s careful exploration.
He lets himself sink into the languid warmth of kissing, humming soft mmm’s and encouraging nonsense against Natsume’s lips to coax him on. It works delightfully, those careful nudges getting braver and more confident with each pass. Shuuichi makes a very pleased little noise when Natsume’s hands find purchase on his chest, rubbing slow circles that Shuuichi mirrors with his thumbs over Natsume’s jaw.
They keep up that lazy back and forth for several long moments. The quiet sounds of kissing fill the air between them—slick, wet noises and shaky flutters of breath.
Eventually, though, the kiss starts to wind down. As it ends, Shuuichi catches Natsume’s lower lip between both of his, swiping his tongue slow and sweet over that plush swell. A gasp greets him, Natsume’s mouth dropping wider with surprise before he hesitantly brushes his own tongue against Shuuichi’s.
Shuuichi grins into the kiss, flicking the tips of their tongues together playfully before finally pulling back. He takes a second to admire the way Natsume’s mouth is shiny-pink and just a little bit swollen, then murmurs a soft, “Good?”
He’s possibly a little too proud of the hazy look on Natsume’s face, how it takes him a beat to lick his lips and nod.
“Yes.”
Grinning in smug delight at how awed that single syllable sounds, Shuuichi pulls him in for a hug. “I’m glad,” he whispers, nudging their noses together affectionately.
Natsume sighs and shuts his eyes as he relaxes in Shuuichi’s grip, returning the hug with his arms looped loosely around Shuuichi’s neck. He looks content. Peaceful. A far cry from the earlier embarrassment and guilt.
Much better.
Shuuichi kisses his check and tucks him close, letting his own eyes fall shut. They stay there like that, wrapped up in each other, for a few long minutes.
Eventually, Natsume shifts somewhat restlessly. His voice breaks through the comfortable silence.
“Natori-san?”
“Mm?” Shuuichi hums, peeking an eye open. He’s been swaying them back and forth, perfectly content to bask in the warm, fluttering feeling curled under his sternum.
Natsume’s arms squeeze tighter around his neck as the boy averts his eyes, some of that earlier shyness returning.
“Can you really…with the, the cherry stems—?”
Ah. Well.
Maybe a good person would be able to resist that kind of opening. Shuuichi has never claimed to be a good person.
“…Would you like to find out?” he asks, voice dropping low and just that little bit sly. Just for the pleasure of making Natsume shiver under his hands again. It works. Shuuichi doesn’t even try not to feel smug about it.
From this distance it’s easy to see the way Natsume’s eyes dilate, blowing very wide and very dark as he breathes an emphatic: “Yes.”
Well then.
Shuuichi tips Natsume’s head back again, and this time there’s absolutely nothing chaste about the way their lips slot together.
Shuuichi tries to go slow. Really, he does.
He wants this to be good for Natsume, doesn’t want to overwhelm him right off the bat.
But it’s so, so hard not to devour this gorgeous boy the way he wants.
Gods, especially when Natsume opens up so easily for his tongue, another one of those whines shivering out of him at the first slick press.
Shuuichi hums a low noise in return, tracing Natsume’s parted lips with the tip of his tongue—long, sensual laps that dip just inside, slow and coaxing.
He groans when that earns him a tentative little lick, tongues catching, and Natsume jolts hard in his arms with a needy, whimpering sound when Shuuichi takes the opportunity to rub their tongues together in languid strokes. Each one has Natsume shivering against him—muffling more little whimpers and whines into Shuuichi’s mouth that just make his blood run hotter.
As do the careful nudges Natsume meets him with, the way he mimics Shuuichi’s movements and experiments with testing little flicks and rubs of his own.
It’s so easy to crowd in closer, so they’re pressed flush, tilting Natsume’s head back into a better angle for Shuuichi to lick in deeper. Hungrier.
Easy to coax Natsume’s tongue into his mouth so he can suck at it—slick, liquid pulls suggestive of exactly what else Shuuichi can do with his mouth.
Hands fly up to anchor in his hair, Natsume’s fingers scraping deliciously against his scalp as he moans and bucks like Shuuichi’s touched him with a live wire.
Fuck, Natsume’s definitely hard again, hot and insistent against Shuuichi’s hip, and Shuuichi absolutely cannot stop himself from grinding against that bulge, palm flattening wide and heavy over Natsume’s lower back to press their hips tight.
“Natori-san!”
Natsume gasps, the noise sounding torn from his throat just like Natsume tears himself away from the kiss, panting wetly, hands fisted in Shuuichi’s hair as his hips stutter in helpless, abortive little thrusts.
And oh, fuck—for a delirious second Shuuichi thinks Natsume might have come just from that, can feel exactly how hard Natsume’s cock jerks against his.
Arousal crashes over him in a dizzying rush, burning like wildfire under his skin.
Shuuichi barely gives Natsume any time to catch his breath, crushing him to his chest as he dives back in for another kiss.
Nipping at kiss-swollen lips, soothing the sting with his tongue after—licking back into Natsume’s mouth chasing the high, reedy noises that earns—
And Natsume responds beautifully. Tugging sharp and needy at Shuuichi’s hair, sucking at his tongue clumsily—rocking up on his toes into the grinding pressure of Shuuichi’s hips, uneven and just shy of too hard.
They’re neither of them even trying for finesse at this point, lips smearing slick and obscene, Natsume’s sloppy eagerness only spurring Shuuichi on.
By the time they come up for air again, mouths and noses still nudging together even as they pant, Natsume’s trembling and boneless in his arms—Shuuichi’s practically bearing his entire weight with how he’s been melting into their messy kisses.
If they don’t stop now, they’re not going to stop at all. This is probably Shuuichi's last chance to put the brakes on this before they’re both lost.
He really, really doesn’t want to put the brakes on this. Every inch of his skin is thrumming with need. But Natsume is too precious, too important—he has to make sure.
“Natsume,” Shuuichi mumbles, the sound smeared between them. He tries to pull back farther but Natsume chases after him instead, moaning into his mouth and making a garbled little noise that might be Shuuichi’s name in return. Gods, he’s going to hear that in his dreams.
“Natsume—” he tries again, clinging to the shreds of his control with both hands, forcing himself to ignore the ball of heat churning in his gut, and something in his voice must break through the haze. Natsume doesn’t stop him when he pulls back this time, blinking dazed green eyes up at him in confusion.
“Mmm—ah? Natori-san…?”
That soft, mournful little question is not at all helping Shuuichi’s composure.
Shuuichi takes a second to breathe, trying to gather his scattered thoughts. As impossible as that is with how breathtaking Natsume is when he’s been kissed senseless. He nuzzles at those kiss-flushed cheeks, sliding his hand up into silky white strands as he cups the back of Natsume’s head and holds him close.
“Natsume, I, if we keep going like this, it. It won’t just be kissing anymore,” he rasps, knowing he sounds ruined just from the thought, “I need to make sure you’re okay with this, for real. Yeah? Before I—we—go any further. We can—if you’re not ready, we can stop, cool down and watch a movie, or,” and Shuuichi can feel his ears burning, “Ah…take care of ourselves in private…?”
He pauses, clearing his throat awkwardly—fumbling the way only Natsume makes him—before he finishes with a soft: “I just…want to know that you’re sure.”
It seems to take a moment for his words to sink in, then Natsume ducks his head almost like he wants to hide in Shuuichi’s shoulder. His mouth opens and closes soundlessly as he works through his response, and Shuuichi’s relieved to see Natsume actually taking the time to really think about what he’s asking.
After another moment, Natsume finally manages a halting but sincere, “I am—okay. It’s…it’s all new—it’s a lot, but it's also you, Natori-san. I like you, so much. You make me feel safe and I—I don’t want to stop.”
Then Natsume inhales deeply and screws his face up in that expression Shuuichi both loves and dreads, stubborn and determined all in one. “I’ve spent the last few weeks thinking about this, Natori-san, I—I want you. Please. I…want more than just my hands again,” he says, looking Shuuichi directly in the eye. Blunt and painfully honest even as his voice wobbles with embarrassment.
Fuck.
Shuuichi groans, thunking their foreheads together. “Fuck. Yeah. Yeah, okay, just. Let me—let me take you to bed before I suck you off right here in the kitchen.” The words come out pleading, weak as his crumbling resolve.
He has the distinct pleasure of watching Natsume’s mouth drop open in shock, watching that splotchy flush creep down under the collar of his shirt as Natsume stutters a high, squeaky, “I-I—oh—y-yes, please?”
Shuuichi can’t help but laugh, utterly delighted. “You’re so cute,” he whispers, grinning wider when Natsume scowls fiercely and thwaps his arm.
He just has to steal another kiss off that scowl, lips soft and coaxing until Natsume melts back into him with a sigh.
Without warning, Shuuichi hooks his hands under Natsume’s thighs and sweeps him up off his feet.
“Wha—Natori-san!” Natsume protests, flailing a little before his hands find purchase on Shuuichi’s shoulders.
“What?” Shuuichi asks innocently, not at all disguising the smug smirk he knows is blatant on his face. “It’s faster this way.”
“…If you say so,” Natsume mutters sullenly, all wounded teenage pride. Like Shuuichi can’t see him trying not to smile, or feel the way Natsume burrows closer, arms looping back around his neck.
Grin tucked against the curve of Natsume’s neck, Shuuichi busies himself with nuzzling and kissing at the flush there as he carts the embarrassed boy—his boy—off to his bedroom.
The door clicking shut behind them feels final. The point of no return. Shuuichi’s breathing unevenly even as he tries to settle his nervous anticipation—he’s the one with (some) experience here, he shouldn’t be nervous.
But it’s Natsume. He’s about to lay Natsume out on his bed for the first time. Fuck—he’s going to give Natsume his first time.
Shuuichi wants to be so, so good for him. So good Natsume’s ruined for anyone else. He also wants to suck Natsume off until he cries.
If he’s very lucky, he’ll manage to do both.
Natsume shivers when he’s gently laid out on the sheets, breaths stuttering in his chest as his legs bracket Shuuichi’s hips on what must be instinct. His slender fingers wind their way back into Shuuichi’s hair, tugging at the strands. Those pretty green eyes widen when Shuuichi moans softly at the light sting.
“I really enjoy it when you pull my hair,” Shuuichi murmurs. Truth—and subtle encouragement for Natsume to be open about what he likes.
It also earns him a shy smile and another tug, which Shuuichi certainly isn’t complaining about. He hums in pleasure, eyes fluttering closed. “Mmhmm, that’s good, Natsume.”
That slightly dazed look is back when he opens his eyes, a fresh blush blooming high over Natsume’s cheekbones. Shuuichi grins down at him, delighted.
Natsume swallows hard. “Kiss me again?”
Shuuichi does, slow and deep, tongues curling together sweetly. Until Natsume’s relaxed back into the sheets, fingers flexing in involuntary little motions in Shuuichi’s hair.
This time Shuuichi keeps going, trailing soft little pecks down Natsume’s jaw. He nibbles at the hinge, and that tempting curve of neck, mumbling a soft ‘good?’ when a shaky little sigh fills the air above him.
He’s answered by an equally soft ’mmhmm’, and the warm sweep of Natsume’s hand down his back, like he’s trying to pull Shuuichi even closer. Shuuichi smiles against his throat, rewarding him with more teasing nibbles and a long scrape of teeth right over Natsume’s pulse that has Natsume’s hand fisting in the back of his shirt.
Shuuichi wants to mark him up so much—it’s not fair, having to leave the gorgeous length of Natsume’s neck bare. But it’s too hot for sweaters and he knows Natsume has no idea how to use concealer.
He’ll just have to mark the less visible places instead.
Planting a kiss at the hollow of Natsume’s throat, Shuuichi shifts so he can run his hand up Natsume’s side.
“Can I take this off?” He asks, voice reverent, tracing over the buttons of Natsume’s shirt. Feeling the heat of him beneath the thin layer of fabric, the slight hitch in the rise and fall of his chest.
Natsume blinks hazily up at him as the question sinks in, and Shuuichi can feel his pulse skip and quicken under his fingers as Natsume takes in a shaky breath. He nods, slowly. “Yes, if—if I can, too? Take yours off?” A tug at the back of Shuuichi’s shirt accompanies the quiet request.
Shuuichi smiles and leans in to nose at his jawline. “Of course you can. Do you wanna go first?”
He arches over Natsume invitingly, wiggling a little just to make him smile and grinning triumphantly when Natsume rolls his eyes and bites his lip like he’s trying hard not to laugh. He’s also a lot more relaxed when he takes Shuuichi up on the invitation, hands steady as they start to ruck his shirt up, so it’s a win on both counts.
They work together to slide the shirt up and over Shuuichi’s head, and he’s very gratified by the way Natsume’s gaze falls along with his hands to trace over Shuuichi’s chest with something like awe.
Shivering a little at the gentle touch, Shuuichi scootches forward to give him more room as he makes quick work of Natsume’s shirt buttons—and it’s equally gratifying when Natsume makes a face at having to stop touching Shuuichi long enough to slip the shirt off his shoulders.
Those hands are back on him soon enough, and Shuuichi mmm’s in contentment, letting his eyes fall closed briefly as he enjoys Natsume’s hands petting over his chest and smoothing over the curve of his shoulders. Then he returns the favor.
Shuuichi takes his time exploring the soft planes of Natsume’s chest—the slight dip of his sternum, the gentle ridges of his ribs, and the curve of his pecs. His palms catch and drag over Natsume’s nipples, and he’s rewarded with a surprised little jump and a breathy moan.
“Oh? Sensitive?” Shuuichi grins slyly, thumbs circling stiffening peaks. Natsume’s thighs squeezing tight around him is answer enough, really, but Shuuichi waits him out. Waits for Natsume to say it out loud.
“I—haven’t, um, haven’t really tried it much, but...I think so?” Good enough. “—ah—!”
Natsume’s halting explanation cuts into a sharp gasp when Shuuichi can no longer resist leaning in to tease a pebbled nipple with his tongue.
“Natori-san—“ Natsume whines, squirming restlessly under the slick friction. He yanks at Shuuichi’s hair, hard, petulant and scolding even as his hips jump with each teasing swipe.
Alright, that might have been a little mean of Shuuichi. But also? Absolutely worth it.
Moaning low under his breath at the tingling pain still radiating from his scalp, Shuuichi hides a smile against Natsume’s pec.
“Sorry,” he murmurs, not sorry in the slightest and knowing Natsume isn’t fooled either, “Let me make it up to you? I did say I’d suck you off, mm?”
Maybe his apologetic coaxing would be more convincing if Shuuichi wasn’t still mouthing and lapping slowly at that tight nub, Natsume squirming in the sheets and failing to muffle thready little noises as he grasps at Shuuichi’s hair and shoulders. It’s not his fault Natsume’s reactions are so addicting.
“If I can last that long,” Natsume mutters mutinously, like it’ll hide the way his voice wavers and breaks halfway through with shivery desire. Shuuichi huffs a fond laugh and takes pity on him, kissing his sternum and rubbing soothing circles over Natsume’s stomach before his hand drifts downward.
“Shhh, I’ll take care of you. May I…?”
His fingers only just brush over the damp front of Natsume’s jeans before Natsume judders from head to toe, swallowing and croaking, “You can—yes. Off. Please.”
And there’s no way Shuuichi would ignore such a sweet request.
“—Fuck, you’re so pretty,” he murmurs, rapt, as he works open Natsume’s jeans and gently palms his cock. It is pretty: long and slender and flushed such a lovely shade of pink—Shuuichi can’t wait to get his mouth on him.
A strangled noise meets his thoughtless praise, Natsume covering his face with his hands as his cock jerks against his hip, voice gone whiny with embarrassment when he manages, “That’s—you can’t just say that—”
Chuckling as he finishes stripping Natsume’s jeans off, Shuuichi ducks down to place a featherlight kiss on his hip bone. “Mmm, I can and it’s true. Didn’t you like it?” He asks, grinning slyly against pale skin when Natsume kicks at him gently with his heel.
Lips twisting into a pout underneath his hands, Natsume eventually mutters a barely audible, “I liked it…”
Shuuichi rewards him with another scrape of teeth, sucking a deep mark into the crook of Natsume’s hip. “Good boy.”
That earns an even more strangled whine and a full-body jerk, pre welling up shiny-wet at the tip of Natsume’s cock.
Humming low and pleased in his throat—and filing that reaction away for later—Shuuichi murmurs a soft, “Hold on to me,” against him. Then he sets himself to nipping and sucking a bright trail of marks over Natsume’s abdomen.
Careful the entire time to avoid that pretty, trembling cock.
It’s not ‘til Natsume’s breath has gone even choppier with anticipation, ‘til his hands settle back in Shuuichi’s hair and he whispers a strained ’please’, that Shuuichi finally presses a kiss to his shaft.
Oh, but Natsume makes such a wonderfully high, needy little sound when he does—Shuuichi wants to hear it again. He nuzzles at the length of him with parted lips, brushing them all the way from sac to tip as he lets his breaths skate over flushed, sensitive skin, hot and teasing.
It earns him an even better reaction—a shocked, shuddering whimper of N-natori-san—and the tight clench of fingers in his hair, Natsume’s cock twitching restlessly under the attention.
Oh, Natsume’s trying so hard not to squirm or buck into him—Shuuichi can feel the muscles in the boy’s thighs straining and bunching under his palms as Natsume pants. His knees tremble around Shuuichi’s shoulders just like his pretty cock trembles against Shuuichi’s lips, body wire-strung with anticipation so thick Shuuichi can taste it.
So taste it he does—starting with that too-tempting glimmer of pre.
Natsume cries out like he’s been struck, practically jolting off the bed at the first slow drag of Shuuichi’s tongue right over his flushed tip. Gods, it’s intoxicating how reactive this beautiful boy is for him. Shuuichi can’t help but do it again, laving over and over that dusky head, relishing each choked whimper and full-body jerk.
“Oh, oh, oh god, Na-natori-san—I, that feels—” Natsume’s voice cracks into something choked, chest heaving like he can’t get enough air.
Fingers yank at his hair, sharp little pulls that lance down Shuuichi’s spine as he chases the salty taste of pre all the way down Natsume’s shaft and back up again, stopping to flicker his tongue over and over a sensitive spot just under the head that has Natsume sounding like he’s dying.
Shuuichi moans against him in response, smoothing his hands over the soft planes of inner thigh, and pushing Natsume’s legs wider so he can settle in more comfortably.
He intends to take his time, after all.
Pressing Natsume’s cock against the tense, hollowed out curve of the boy’s stomach with his mouth—not letting him escape the maddeningly slick friction for a moment—Shuuichi explores the length of Natsume’s shaft with his lips and tongue.
Slow laps interspersed with little kitten-licks over the tip—twitching in time with Natsume’s muffled whimpers—followed by long, luxurious strokes down to the root, Shuuichi’s nose pressed tight to Natsume’s base as he mouths sloppily at his sac.
Natsume’s increasingly urgent noises are heavenly.
By the time he comes up for air, Natsume’s squirming under him in earnest, hips shifting restlessly and feet skittering for purchase in the sheets. What Shuuichi can see of his face is crumpled with pleasure, every panted breath coming out colored with stuttering moans and bitten off pleas.
He’s rocking back and forth in abortive little motions, too, like he can’t decide whether he needs to squirm into or away from Shuuichi’s slick tongue.
Oh, it’s almost cruel to tease him like this—keeping Natsume strung out and desperate when he’s utterly defenseless against such new and overwhelming sensation. But Shuuichi can’t help but want to coax out every noise, wring out every last drop of pleasure until Natsume’s a satisfied wreck on his bed.
His own cock aches where it’s trapped behind his zipper, but Shuuichi ignores it. Every spare bit of his attention is dedicated to driving Natsume absolutely crazy.
But there’s only so long Shuuichi can tease them both, dizzy with the ravenous pit of desire in his chest.
Rubbing little circles into Natsume’s shaking thighs, Shuuichi licks a sloppy stripe all the way up to his tip. Then—slowly, finally—he closes his mouth around the head, and sinks down.
Natsume keens, kicking out sharp and desperate—practically sobbing as he’s engulfed in the slick heat of Shuuichi’s mouth—back snapping taut all the way off the bed. He’s babbling in earnest now, all sense of composure gone—nonsensical slurs of ‘please’ and ‘Natori-san’ and ‘ohgod’ that only spur Shuuichi onward.
Shuuichi moans hungrily around him, vision fuzzed over, lost in hazy need like a distant echo of Natsume’s. He knows from experience that his mouth must feel like fire around Natsume’s oversensitive cock, pleasure so searingly intense it’s almost pain.
Panting raggedly through his nose, Shuuichi slowly takes Natsume all the way down to the root—Natsume’s increasingly desperate sobs washing over him like a wave.
He kneads mindlessly at the tense, jerking muscles in Natsume’s thighs—as much to soothe Natsume as himself—trying to adjust to the pressure and girth, tears pricking at the corners of his eyes.
The thick line of cock in his throat aches like nothing else, so good but brutally intense—he’s out of practice, he won’t be able to hold this for long.
Luckily, judging from the near-frantic whines echoing in the air, and the thick pulses of pre welling in the back of his throat, he won’t need to.
Shuuichi breathes through his nose as slow and steady as he can manage, shifting his arms to wind tight around Natsume’s thighs and hips. Then, when Natsume’s thrashing and helpless cries reach a fever pitch, he swallows.
Natsume’s knees slam shut around his shoulders, entire body jackknifing off the bed with a wail.
Pulse after pulse of come hits the back of Shuuichi’s throat—he drinks it all down, as much as he can manage, holding Natsume fast through the rhythmic waves of what feels and sounds like an absolutely shattering orgasm. Natsume’s hiccuping and sobbing with it, gorgeous in how he falls apart, nails clawing stinging lines over Shuuichi’s scalp.
Shuuichi moans like he’s the one coming, swallowing and swallowing around him until the spasms die down—until he has to pull off and gulp down ragged breaths of air.
There’s come dripping messily from his lips, other dribbles he missed trickling down Natsume’s still-twitching shaft, and he can’t help but nuzzle back in to lap them up even as it makes Natsume jolt and whine.
“Na-natori…san…too—too much, please, I can’t—”
Hands tug at his hair and Shuuichi reluctantly pulls back, licking his own mouth clean. Natsume sounds utterly ruined—and he looks it too, when Shuuichi shifts up enough to see him properly. Face flushed splotchy crimson, eyelashes damp with overstimulated tears, mouth a bruised, bitten-red mess…
…Shuuichi realizes distantly that he’s practically trembling with arousal, so keyed up just from sucking Natsume off he’s leaked a damp patch through his pants. He takes several deep, shuddering breaths in an attempt to calm himself down.
It doesn’t really work, and Shuuichi barely avoids pouncing on Natsume when he’s tugged down into a kiss. Shuuichi collapses next to him instead, plastering himself to Natsume’s side as he peppers his face with sloppy, affectionate pecks then licks into his mouth like he’s starving for it. Even just the slick glide of their tongues has him moaning into the kiss.
Natsume’s answering moan is exhausted but encouraging—and then he makes a shocked little noise that has Shuuichi remembering exactly what he must taste like right now.
“Sorry,” he rasps, pulling back with an obscene ‘pop’ and rolling them both onto their sides, “Didn’t think—”
Natsume’s already shaking his head, licking his lips slowly, almost like he’s chasing the taste. “No—it’s, it’s fine,” he says, voice nearly as wrecked as Shuuichi’s, “I…think I kind of like it, actually.”
He sounds confused by this, and Shuuichi’s half-laughing, half-groaning hoarsely as desire pangs low and insistent in his gut. Natsume likes tasting himself on Shuuichi’s tongue—he’s definitely going to be thinking about that later.
He’s thinking about it now, too, unable to stop himself as he slings a leg over Natsume’s hip, pulling him close and rocking against him. Shuuichi can’t help but whine at the friction right where he needs it, hips shifting in restless little motions that grind his aching cock against the soft plane of Natsume’s thigh.
Another one of those shocked little noises rings in his ears as Natsume’s arms go tight around him. His eyes, still blown dark, trace over Shuuichi’s face and body so intensely it’s nearly tangible. He almost looks hungry.
“I—sorry, sorry,” Shuuichi gasps, skin prickling with urgent shivers of arousal that only intensify with the weight of Natsume’s gaze, “I need to, I’m…”
Natsume glances down at the bulge in Shuuichi’s pants, outlined obscenely by the wet fabric, and licks his lips again, pointedly. “Should…can I—?”
A needy groan punches out of Shuuichi’s chest at the thought of that bitten-red mouth on him, cock straining against his zipper. “Fffuck, I—I’m too close, Natsume, I won’t last,” he breathes weakly, “Not ready for this to be over just yet…and you’ve never—I wanted to give you a chance to explore. Here…”
He guides Natsume’s hand down to cup the front of his pants, hissing through clenched teeth at the warm heat bleeding through fabric. Fingers brush over his zipper, questioning, and he moans in encouragement.
“Yeah, go ahead, whatever you want—“
Natsume’s lips part on a soundless ‘oh’ as he carefully takes Shuuichi out, eyes wide and rapt on the thick cock resting in his palm. “Oh , you’re not—“
“Mmmhm,” Shuuichi manages, cock jerking hard in Natsume’s grip, eyes squeezing shut against the shivering bursts of pleasure as Natsume thumbs over his pre-slicked foreskin curiously. It probably shouldn’t be so hot, the tentative brush of gentle, inexperienced fingers, but if Shuuichi opens his eyes right now to look he’s going to come all over Natsume’s hand. “‘s, d-different than, than you’re used to, huh?”
“It’s so soft,” Natsume marvels, voice hushed and full of something that sends sparks skittering up Shuuichi’s spine. He almost seems enamored—and Shuuichi thinks he might actually die from this. Fuck, especially from the awed little breath Natsume takes when his careful petting slips the silky folds back to reveal the flushed tip of Shuuichi’s cock.
“Does it…feel different?” Natsume asks him, still in that hushed, breathless tone that has Shuuichi’s toes curling in the sheets. It’s such an impossible to answer question that Shuuichi can’t help but huff a wheezing little laugh around the needy noises trapped in his throat.
“I-I wouldn’t know, ‘s the only one I have,” he gasps, peeking an eye open to grin at him, trying for teasing but definitely hitting somewhere closer to ‘desperately turned on’. Natsume rewards him with a renewed flush and an adorable little scowl anyway—and really, that should not make Shuuichi’s cock jerk and leak harder.
But it does, and Natsume’s scowl fades back into something dazed and reverent. “How do I…what do you like?” he asks, hand closing around Shuuichi’s cock in a gentle, testing stroke that’s just barely more than a tease.
Moan catching behind his teeth, Shuuichi thinks dizzily that Natsume’s expecting far more coherence from him than he’s actually capable of right now.
“Start—ah—start with what you like—” he tries to suggest, but Natsume’s already biting his lip and shaking his head.
“I don’t—I have to be quick, I don’t really have time to…”
He sounds a little embarrassed again and Shuuichi manages to string together enough brain cells to realize that, with sensei around, Natsume probably rarely has the privacy to experiment. An unpredictable feline roommate isn’t really conducive to anything more than a frantic race to the finish line. And of course Natsume would be too squirrelly to just tell the cat to fuck off for a few hours.
Shuuichi’s yanked from that thought by the tentative drag of a thumb over his tip. He jolts, hard, groaning low in his throat and curling tighter around Natsume’s slender frame. Craning his head to catch his beautiful boy in a messy kiss, he wiggles the hand not trapped under Natsume down between them, closing around Natsume’s smaller hand with a mumbled, “Here, let me…”
It’s the work of a moment to coax Natsume into the rhythm he likes best, moving their joined hands in long, easy strokes from root to tip. “Like this,” he says against Natsume’s lips, smearing little kisses over them as Natsume gasps and fumbles to match his pace. “Slow, t-tight, mmph, turn your wrist a little—fuck, oh fuck, j-just, just like that—’s so good, sweetheart…”
The endearment slips out on accident, but, oh, it lands hard. Shuuichi hasn’t even fully registered what he’s babbling when Natsume inhales sharply, mouth dropping open against his. He looks overwhelmed—like Shuuichi’s knocked him completely breathless.
“S-say that again?”
Shuuichi shudders helplessly at the wonder in his voice, bucking into Natsume’s grip. “Sweetheart,” he rasps, “My sweetheart—”
Natsume surges forward, cutting him off with sloppy-eager lips and tongue and the redoubled efforts of his hand on Shuuichi’s cock. Shuuichi thinks rather hazily that he’ll call Natsume ‘sweetheart’ every day for the rest of his life if this is the reaction he gets—
—Slick palm twisting over his tip, questing fingers skating over his arousal-tight nipple, and Shuuichi very abruptly isn’t thinking anything at all.
“Ohfuck, Natsume—”
Natsume noses at his cheek as his fingers toy with Shuuichi’s nipple, random scrapes of nails over skin like lightning bolts down Shuuichi’s spine. “Good? Is—is this good, Natori-san?” he asks, quiet and mush-mouthed.
Shuuichi can’t manage words, just a dizzy nod—he has to shut his eyes against the pleasure winding tighter and tighter in his gut.
And, oh, it’s as heady as it is searing hot to feel the way Natsume gains confidence with every stroke, every whimper and throaty moan he wrings from Shuuichi’s mouth—Shuuichi’s long since abandoned any attempts at teaching him, both hands clutching at Natsume’s back.
“You’re—oh, you look so good like this,” Natsume mumbles, barely audible and unbearably earnest, smearing the words and countless messy little kisses over Shuuichi’s face, “—beautiful, Natori-san, I, I can’t believe—”
As keyed up as he already is, that shy, quiet praise hits Shuuichi right in the chest.
He whines helplessly, shaking all the way down to his toes as his cock twitches urgently in Natsume’s palm, coating it in thick spurts of pre.
Fuck he’s so close, so so close that he can feel his sac drawing up tight. Just a little more—
“F-faster, faster—Natsume, please,” Shuuichi pleads, eyes clenched shut, rocking forward in increasingly urgent waves, back bowing as he about turns to liquid with the syrupy-hot well of orgasm just starting to crest behind his base.
He’s too dizzyingly out of his head with pleasure to understand what Natsume groans against his mouth, when all he can feel is the quickening glide around him as he swells in Natsume’s hand—then there’s a second hand on his cock, on his almost painfully sensitive tip, rubbing slick, tight little circles that just get tighter and tighter—
Every muscle in his body snaps taut and trembling as Shuuichi comes with a ruined cry, hips stuttering rabbit-quick and rhythmic, cock pulsing hot and wet and messy all over Natsume’s hands, his cry cracking into something high and wounded when that just turns the glide even slicker.
He’s barely aware of his fingers digging bruises into Natsume’s back as he grinds through the relentless waves of pleasure, leg locked high over one slender hip, toes curled so hard they ache.
It goes on for ages; it goes on for just a few, endless seconds. He can’t possibly tell which.
Eventually, Shuuichi manages to open his eyes again, slumped boneless into the sheets and panting in ragged gulps of air. When he does, Natsume’s gazing at him with such wonder and awe that Shuuichi almost can’t bear to look at him directly.
“Wh-what’s that look for…?” he asks, voice a hoarse wreck of a thing.
“Nothing,” Natsume whispers, smiling shyly, “You’re just really cute.”
Then he cuts off the embarrassed, indignant noise Shuuichi makes with his lips.
Shuuichi can’t really find it in himself to complain.
They spend a long, long few minutes just dozing there in bed, room dyed rosy with languid afterglow.
Coming down slowly, exchanging soft kisses that echo in the dreamlike atmosphere. They’re both of them half-asleep with contentment, humming little sounds against each other’s lips and pressing nonsense murmurs against sweaty skin—more noise than words—as the high from their orgasms settles into something warm and sweet.
Eventually, Shuuichi pulls back with one last, lingering brush of lips.
“We should clean up before your bodyguard breaks in and murders me,” he murmurs, grinning at the sleepy discontented noise Natsume makes from where he’s half-buried in the pillows, wheedling, “Come on, sweetheart, I’ll wash your back for you.”
Natsume turns a very fetching shade of pink, whether at the idea or the endearment Shuuichi isn’t quite sure. He’s incredibly smug about it either way. Thumb tracing that flush, he adds, “And you can soak in the tub while I order us some lunch. I promised you a nice movie date earlier, and I intend to deliver.”
“I don't think that’s exactly what you said,” Natsume points out, wry, but there’s a delighted little smile curving his swollen lips. Shuuichi kisses them again, just because he can.
“It’s close enough, I’m sure,” he says, not even trying to disguise the giddy joy in his voice or his silly grin, knowing adoration must be shining on his face. Especially when Natsume laughs to himself, high and light and sweet, peeking out from the pillows at Shuuichi with one eye curved in amusement.
“You’re ridiculous,” Natsume says softly, fondly.
It sounds a lot like ‘I love you.’