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Of all the guys Naoto knew, Kanji was the best one to have on hand when his period struck. When he had first become friends with the group and hit that evil time of the month, his mind had instinctually compiled a list of who best to be around during this time of vulnerability and pain.
Yu-senpai was another good option, but Kanji was the best. He whipped up a heating pack when Naoto mentioned that he was experiencing cramps, he brought him plushies and chocolate and painkillers, and also he understood on what seemed like an innate level what to do. Naoto was grateful for such an understanding partner.
Sometimes, though, he wondered if Kanji was… too empathetic.
“I just heard that getting off can help!” He defended himself, while Naoto looked down at him, just surprised anyone could volunteer such a thing. “I just wanna help…”
Naoto couldn’t stand Kanji’s puppy eyes. They were too effective by half. He groaned, pushed his hair back, already sticky with what he internally referred to as “the period sweats”. As many did, he experienced a spike in his libido that coincided with his period, but he had never been the type to act upon it— it was only recently that he had begun to feel comfortable with his body in any sexual context, and it was due to testosterone injections.
“I mean, clearly, if you think it’s too gross, I’m sorry, I’m probably overstepping, right? I’m sorry—“
“Don’t apologize, Kanji,” Naoto said, winding his fingers into his boyfriend’s hair. He was growing out the blond, and he was getting pretty shaggy, with a pretty mix of bleached blond and oil slick black. “I appreciate the offer… but you can’t really think that’s a good idea, right? I mean, I can’t stand penetration, and you’d get a mouthful of blood, and wouldn’t it just sort of be… really gross for you?”
“Not if it’s you!” Kanji blurted out, blushing hard. He shifted, still kneeling by the bedside. “Besides— I just think it might… be a little…”
“What was that?”
“It might be a little hot, to suck you off like that.” Kanji was blushing hard now, unable to look him in the eye. “I’d… I might like the blood.”
“Are you telling me my boyfriend’s a… pervert? Wow, shocking.”
“Don’t mock me.” Kanji began to pull away, was about to shut down, all because Naoto tried to deflect with a joke. Hastily, without thinking too hard, Naoto pulled his hair. Kanji stopped, gasped a little bit.
“I didn’t say no. How about… we can try it, okay?”
Kanji was still red, but he was also biting his lip and making eyes, so it felt safe to assume that he was ready to proceed. Naoto glanced around and understood that doing this on the bed would be the best for his boyfriend’s knees (he’d been slightly worried about them recently, Kanji came from a line of men with bad knees) and that they would at the very least need a towel.
“How about you get us a towel, baby, and then we can get to work?” Naoto slipped into the tone he used with Kanji in these situations. It was a careful balance, their sex life, toeing the line between what both of them liked and what didn’t work for them. Kanji wasn’t a brute in bed, like Naoto had thought he might be, he didn’t try to make up for his ‘masculinity’, he wanted to be taken care of. Naoto wanted to take care of him, but it was hard to be the ‘man’ as it were, when he was so small and slim beside his boyfriend’s bulk. When they put their hands on each other, Naoto’s desire fought past his feelings of inadequacy beside his boyfriend’s ‘maleness’.
If he didn’t fight past it, then every sexual interaction became another session where Kanji had to calm Naoto down from a spiral of dysphoria and self hatred. Thus, Naoto was in charge, and Kanji usually tried to keep his hands to himself.
Kanji laid out the towel and let Naoto get himself set up. It was a light flow day, which was good, Naoto supposed. He was getting into his head about it, could feel the trickle of blood with each shift, which left him feeling distinctly unsexy.
“I’m gaggin’ for it,” Kanji said, between Naoto’s knees now, his shirt shucked and his eyes wide as dinner plates. “I wanna suck your dick.”
Naoto could do dirty talk. He threaded his fingers into his boyfriend’s hair again.
“Well go on, then.” he said, simple and low as he could go. “Suck it.”
Kanji lowered his head and began to tongue his way along Naoto’s slit, sticking near the top, keeping his tongue flat. Naoto’s hand remained anchored in his hair, directing him slightly. Under Naoto’s thighs, Kanji’s hands trembled.
It wasn’t eating him out, Naoto thought. It wasn’t, this was Kanji sucking him off. The difference meant the world, and Naoto took some deep breaths, feeling the cramps, feeling Kanji’s hair in his hand, feeling his dick being sucked by his boyfriend who loved him.
In a matter of years, maybe months, then it would feel more like he had a dick. It would be better, then, and Kanji would actually have something of substance to have in his mouth.
“You’re doing great, baby,” Naoto said, grounding himself again, hooking his legs over Kanji’s shoulders. He was big, he was big, he was bigger than Kanji in this moment, it had to be true. He leant back, closed his eyes, squeezed them shut when he felt the blood. Kanji was making enthusiastic little noises, rutting against the mattress, shaking the bed. Naoto was too in his head, he wasn’t feeling anything other than the slight pleasure, the pain, and the dread that he’d get turned off because of the dread.
If only he was one of the guys who could handle it. He hated the precipice that he was teetering on, he wanted to like this. He liked this! He wanted Kanji sucking his dick, he wanted to have him gagging on it, tugging his hair and watching the tears well up. Then, afterward, he wanted to get Kanji a smoothie and tuck him in and kiss his forehead and tell him what a good job he did. He loved taking care of his boyfriend, and Kanji loved to take care of him back. It was the way they worked, even before they approached sex, when Naoto had gotten top surgery and then recovered.
He was losing the moment, his hand going loose in Kanji’s hair. He tightened his hand, focused in on the experience, the suction, vibration, the slickness of Kanji’s tongue, slick with spit and blood.
“You like the blood, Kanji?” Naoto asked, pushing him down. Kanji’s eyes were rolling back in his head, his face red with blush and Naoto’s blood. “Taste good? Like you wanted?”
“You always taste good,” Kanji said, pulling back just a little. His chin was stained, his lips dribbling a little, and Naoto felt a disgust-pleasure feeling that he liked. Kanji looked out of it, hungry and sort of spacey at the same time. “Love sucking your dick.”
“Love having you suck it, baby,” Naoto said, finally feeling it. Wasn’t that sweet, what really got him going was seeing Kanji’s face, seeing how into it Kanji was. “Doing a good job.”
“Really?” Kanji gave a dopey smile, then went back to his work. He was pressing harder with his tongue this time, nipping at Naoto’s dick, and Naoto kept himself sitting up, watching Kanji get down and dirty. His thighs kept twitching inward, trying to help hold Kanji down there. That wasn’t the point of this exercise, though. Naoto resisted, and watched, and enjoyed. The cramps that had seemed so persistent and omnipresent a moment ago were all but forgotten, gone in the face of Kanji’s enthusiasm.
“So good to me,” Naoto said, all whispery and higher than he liked, but he tried not to mind. “So good for me, Kanji, isn’t that right? I’m happy, I’m really happy when you— oh, oh—”
He squeezed his thighs and kept Kanji’s head down as he came, knowing that given the choice he would have had a hard time pulling Kanji off. It wasn’t quite cumming in his mouth, not like Naoto would like to do, but it felt better than sucking Kanji’s.
“Good job,” Naoto said, slowly slipping away. Kanji, dazed, sat up. His lower face was stained red, from his nose to a little past his chin. It wasn’t like he was painted fully, it was streaky, but when Naoto saw a chunk of tissue he felt more disgust than pleasure. “Let’s get you cleaned up, baby.”
Quickly, he pulled his briefs back on and shepherded Kanji into the bathroom. A quick wipe down with a hand towel took off most of the cum and blood, leaving Kanji’s skin fresh and pink. As he washed him, Naoto lavished praise, brushing Kanji’s hair out of his face gently.
“Was that what you wanted?” Naoto asked. Kanji nodded, rubbed at his face.
“Should probably brush my teeth.” He admitted. Naoto stuck around, kept an eye on him as he brushed and gargled mouthwash.
“Hungry?”
“Nah.”
They kept water bottles on their bedside tables, because both of them were the kind of person to wake up very, very thirsty. After tossing the towel in the wash, Naoto made sure Kanji drank a good bit.
“Did it help?” Kanji asked as Naoto actually put on some pants, finally. Naoto looked up from tying his pants.
“Hm?”
“Did it help, with the cramps?”
“Yeah,” Naoto said, laying down beside Kanji. “It did help. Got in my head, a little bit.”
“Sorry.”
“No, no, you didn’t do anything… I liked it. Well, the best part was how into it you were. I like watching you be desperate for me.”
“I’m desperate for you all the time,” Kanji said, tugging a hand to kiss Naoto’s palm. “Wanna make you happy.”
“You make me happy by existing. Thanks… you’re a really good boyfriend, Kanji. I don’t think I could ever do this with anyone else, they wouldn’t get it.”
“I like having you to myself,” Kanji said, still coming back to himself, calm and honest and sweet. “Keep me forever. You don’t need anyone else.”
“I don’t need ‘em,” Naoto said, pulling him in to kiss his forehead, his nose, his eyelids. All gentle and sweet and chaste, a welcome home sort of gesture. “I’ve got you, and you’ve got me.”
“Mhmn.” Kanji said, going to bury his face in Naoto’s chest. “Always end up so sleepy after sucking your dick.”
“They do say orgasms are supposed to be good sleep aids.”
“Didn’t even get off though,” Kanji said. “Just—“ he waved a hand.
“I owe you one, then.”
“You don’t owe me anything,” Kanji insisted, slipping into sleep. “Like doing it for you more than you do. It’s not… not a competition. I’m not keeping score.”
“Neither am I,” Naoto promised, even though he did think about every time he got off and Kanji didn’t. He didn’t mean to keep track, it just sort of happened, sticking around in his mind. “Go on and sleep, baby. Let’s get Aiya later.”
“Whatever you want,” Kanji said, kissing Naoto’s collarbone and resting his head again. “Whatever…”
Then he was asleep.
Naoto’s eyes traced over his face, slack and gentle, no longer the thin and angry one from high school. This was the face of a man who was taken care of, one who didn’t puff up like a peacock to parade his masculinity. Kanji had left in the piercings, added more since, actually, and had convinced Naoto to pierce an ear. They had matching earrings instead of rings.
It wasn’t the same as legally binding matrimony, it didn’t suit the idea of a detective, to settle down with a man and have him in a bed that both of them slept in, none of the detectives that had captivated Naoto as a child would settle down at all. But as he’d grown he’d gotten an appreciation for the detectives that did slow down, the ones that got to live. As a young trans guy, when he read a detective story where the detective dies, young and manly forever? It was a dream, getting to imagine that he would never change, wouldn’t have to become a woman or live with the consequences. Now Naoto didn’t need the detective fiction as strongly, he just needed Kanji at home, his friends, the comfort in the needle that went into his thigh every Friday. Home was a thing you had to build, and it was harder and more satisfying to live a man than die a detective.
“I love you,” he told Kanji, who mumbled in his sleep and shifted minutely.