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Kenma will be the first and last to tell anyone he is not interested in dating.
He's not. Really.
He doesn't get why nobody understands it. Not his parents, not his friends, not the media outlets. Not even Kuro.
Like the idea of someone not interested in doing some courtship ritual is so odd and unbelievable to everyone. Just because everybody does it, doesn't mean Kenma has to.
The only thing Kenma is interested in is keeping himself entertained while he waits for things to happen. He's always been more of a schemer, and this is no different. He's playing the long game.
So when Kuro slaps down an article — one from a magazine aimed at teenagers no less, for God’s sake — on Kenma's kotatsu and glares at him from where he’s towering over him, still standing and arms crossed, an expression on his face that makes something funny curl in Kenma's stomach, Kenma only takes it with a raised eyebrow.
“This is the third time in two months, Kenma.”
“Is it?” Kenma drags the magazine towards himself — he can't believe Kuro bought it, usually he just shoves a phone with online articles or tweets into his face — takes a short look at the pictures featuring himself and some other YouTuber looking a little too cozy and being proclaimed as possibly involved by the headlines. Kenma's pretty sure they were just trying to have a conversation over the unnecessarily loud music and had to lean in too close to each other. Seems like that's too much nowadays. If only they knew. “It's convention season, rumors happen.”
“Rumors happen,” Kuro repeats, voice dripping with dry annoyance and Kenma's favorite flavor of disbelief. “Did anything happen?”
Kenma snorts. “Nothing ever happens, Kuro. We were talking about collaborating.”
Kuro frowns, lips pursing.
Kenma leans back onto his hands, stares up at him. He tips his head to the side, hair slipping over his shoulder. It’s getting too long to leave it open but he likes the way Kuro follows the motion with his eyes. “I'm not into girls, we've been over this.”
“Things can change,” Kuro says. There's something dangerous in his voice. Kenma's blood sings.
“But do they ever?” Kenma's mouth stretches into a lazy grin. Just the right side of annoying. Just the right side of a challenge. “Why are you mad anyway? Don't you have a girlfriend right now? Do you see me being mad about that?”
Kuro twitches, something akin to shame flickering over his features that disappears as quickly as it shows up. Oh, but it stays. Always right there, even if invisible, always burning so, so bright within Kuro. Kenma knows this. Knows this so well, in fact, because he's always the cause of it.
Things don't change.
“We're taking a break,” Kuro says and stalks around the kotatsu, holding his hand out to Kenma.
“Does she know that?” Kenma asks as he lets Kuro pull him onto his feet, letting himself sway into his orbit. The last one never did. The one before that wanted to take her own breaks quite frequently. Kenma kind of liked her for how not clingy she was. This one he hasn’t even met, but he knows he won’t like her because she has what he wants.
Kuro's eyes darken, anger and want battling for the front row seat, and Kenma is all too willing to take both. So when Kuro wraps his arms around his waist, tightly enough to hurt, and lifts him up, Kenma goes along with it, wraps his arms and legs around Kuro's shoulders and hips in turn, letting Kuro carry him wherever he deems suitable today. Because Kenma wants, too. Maybe even craves Kuro's anger. He likes it when Kuro isn't gentle. Likes that this is something only he gets. Rough and angry and jealous and most of all scared and sacred because something is hanging between them that Kuro won't admit to outside of these moments. Something he keeps hidden and covered by relationships that never satisfy him in the way these nights do. Relationships that Kenma looks at and thinks, how cute. Relationships with girls that are perfect and everything every mother dreams for their son, and Kenma thinks, I own him and you will never stand a chance. Girls, who hang off of Kuro in front of their friends and him, while Kenma thinks, I was here first, and I will always be looming over you like a shadow. Girls, who kiss Kuro like they love him, while Kenma knows that Kuro is thinking of him.
Kenma won every fight before it even started, before they even realized that there was anything to fight against. He's had Kuro in the palm of his hand for nearly ten years now. Ever since the first time a girl dared to confess to Kenma at the end of his second year of high school, right in front of Kuro, and Kuro got so incredibly upset in the aftermath of it, confusion, fear and jealousy battling against each other, that Kenma saw no other way to ensure his own loyalty than to kiss Kuro in the secrecy of his teenage bedroom. And Kuro.
Well, Kuro had cried, his broken, “We shouldn't,” turning into instigating more kisses, turning into swapping their positions and hovering above Kenma in all his tall and broad glory, turning into teeth and marks, and Kenma learning that Kuro wanted this just as much as he did. Maybe even more. He just couldn't admit it to himself when he wasn't angry with someone — but not quite Kenma, never really Kenma — wasn't ready to possibly ruin what they already had for just this little more and Kenma had learned the hard way what it felt like to be wanted so badly and yet never enough.
So that, for the third time in the past months, he's pinned to his bed by Kuro, teeth biting into muscle and nails digging into skin, is really not that unexpected.
That, for the third time in the past months, Kuro betrays the trust of someone he claims to care about to satisfy his own need to have Kenma be his is also not unexpected at all.
This is why Kenma doesn't care for dating after all.
Because what interest should he show in something that he's not given by the one person he loves?
“Kuro,” Kenma gasps, feels his grip tighten on his wrists, swears he feels his bones grind together at the strength of it. “Kuro.”
“Be quiet,” Kuro hisses, just like always, and kisses him to shut him up, wet and open-mouthed, with no room for decorum and no room for second-guessing how desperately hungry Kuro is for him. It makes Kenma shudder, makes him press up and into Kuro's weight, the firmness of his chest, his stomach, his legs. Anything, everything. He wants to crawl into Kuro and live within him. He wants to carve him empty so there's no thought left in him for any of the women he thinks he likes when in reality, he loves Kenma just as much as Kenma loves him.
If Kuro were hollow, he'd still be the perfect fit for Kenma.
“I love you,” Kenma whispers when Kuro moves from his mouth back to his neck, layering desperate, painful bites there, pulling the zipper of his hoodie down, tugging the loose neck of his shirt to the side, to get at his shoulder as well.
“I told you to be quiet,” Kuro says, pulling back in favor of straightening up, hands moving to Kenma's hips, tight in their grip as he urges him to turn over. Kenma follows all too willingly, knows that this is for the better, knows that while he wants this, he never wants to see the immediate aftermath, never wants to see the seconds of softness that flicker over Kuro's face when he ultimately ends up letting Kenma catch his breath after making him come first, just like always, before taking what he wants for himself. Seeing that always ruins the mood and Kenma’s done crying over things that he can't change.
Kuro unceremoniously tugs down Kenma's pants and underwear, just to his knees and then he drags Kenma back in between his legs, arm wrapping over his chest until Kenma is pressed all along his own, feels the hot and heavy shape of Kuro's dick nudging up against him from below. He's trapped like this, and Kenma loves it. He groans, tipping his head back against Kuro's shoulder. He gets rewarded with another biting kiss against his neck and Kuro’s fingers pressing over the base of it. A hint of pressure against his throat.
“Prepped myself earlier,” Kenma says to his ceiling, feels the grip of Kuro's hands tighten, and feels the difficulty of swallowing with his neck stretched this far.
“Stop doing that,” Kuro grumbles. He's not really angry. Kenma knows he's just upset that it'll cut their time shorter.
“You took longer than expected, I got bored. But a refresh won't hurt,” Kenma turns his head towards Kuro, pressing his lips against his neck. Much gentler, softer. Kuro's hold tightens, hips twitching up, grinding his still covered dick against Kenma's ass. It's so funny how they are on opposite ends of the spectrum when it comes to sex. How Kenma gets off on the misery and roughness in this, while Kuro is fueled by the softness Kenma shows him. The only reason Kenma wants to be crying during this is overwhelmingly good pain. The only reason Kuro sheds tears is because he gives in to what Kenma promises. Love and forever and nothing to worry about. This is not a fair battle. “Or not. You know I don't mind it.”
“You're horrible,” Kuro presses into his shirt and reaches for the pocket of Kenma's jacket, knowing he'll find lube and a condom there. Because Kenma is always prepared on days like these. He knows Kuro wants the choice of right there, wherever he finds Kenma when coming over in this mood, bending him over the next flat surface or just the ground, or bringing him to bed. It’s the exact reason why he never does it without warning. Everything is an option. Everything should be one, too.
Everything is possible when it’s just the two of them.
“Lube,” Kuro says, pressing the bottle into Kenma’s hand. Kenma complies with a huffed breath, tips his head forward again to be able to see, and squeezes some onto Kuro’s fingers. Some of it slips off, drips down onto his thigh, and Kenma inhales sharply at the cool sensation.
“Spread your legs,” Kuro continues, nosing at his ear before his teeth tug harshly at his earlobe.
“From the front, really,” Kenma says, even though he shifts his hips forward a little, tips himself further back into Kuro as he widens his legs. Giving Kuro enough room to move his hand between them, fingers finding their way to Kenma’s rim easily. “Inefficient.”
“You’re so whiny tonight.” Kuro sounds annoyed, to say the least, and he’s not careful either as he pushes in two fingers at once, going deep from the start.
The gasp slips from Kenma’s lips, and his eyes flutter shut. He didn’t lie when he said he prepped himself. But it’s still his fingers in comparison to Kuro’s, and no matter the position they are in, no matter how Kuro presses his fingers into him, soft and careful or rough and deep, they’ll always reach further than Kenma’s. Feel bigger, too. And it’s not like Kenma ever goes all out. He enjoys a little pain with his pleasure.
Kenma feels Kuro laugh more than he hears it, too focused on the sensation of his fingers inside of him. “Thought you prepped yourself.”
“I did,” Kenma says, and twists his head towards Kuro in a silent request for a kiss.
He doesn’t get it.
Instead, he gets the slow drag of Kuro pulling his fingers back out, spreading them apart, and tugging on his rim. The stretch makes his hips push forward, his dick bumping into Kuro’s arm. It’s not on purpose, not until Kuro tightens the arm still across Kenma’s chest and then presses his other arm in closer as he pushes his fingers back into Kenma. It’s not a perfect line up but it’s enough for some friction against his dick and when Kuro says, “Move your hips,” Kenma can’t help but laugh. He’s teetering, carefully balanced between falling back into Kuro and slipping down further onto Kuro’s fingers, only the limited stretch in the waistband of his pants and the spread of Kuro’s own legs around his stopping him from sinking down further. But because it’s Kuro telling him to, he still tries his best, pushes his hips up into Kuro’s arm and then down towards Kuro’s lap and his fingers, feeling Kuro’s own hips jump with the little friction to his dick it offers. Good.
“Why are you making me work for it?” Kenma asks after a moment of this, voice a little too breathless at the discomfort the movement puts him in while at the same time causing enough friction to be so close to making the pain tip into pure pleasure. He can feel Kuro’s breathing behind him, hot and heavy and brushing along his bare neck. He wishes he wasn’t wearing clothes anymore and could feel it everywhere.
Kuro pushes his fingers deep, making Kenma’s breath hitch with it. “I’m going to make you work for a lot more if you keep prepping yourself.”
Oh. And that explains it, doesn’t it? “What,” Kenma says, turning his face to glower at Kuro, and finds him wide-eyed, a little wild looking. “Is this you admitting to enjoying fingering me, to preferring when it’s you doing it?”
He watches Kuro blink, watches him try to keep his composure but it’s so thin. So frail and easily broken. Kenma has perfected the art of ripping it to shreds years ago. “That’s not very straight of you, is it now.”
It’s a good thing Kenma is always ready to reap what he sows when it comes to this. Because he doesn’t even get a warning before Kuro pulls his fingers free from inside of him, and with his whole weight behind it, pushes Kenma forward and into the bed. Even though his reaction time is good, Kenma has no chance to stop this, can barely get his hands underneath himself to not faceplant completely. His breath gets forced out of him either way, Kuro’s weight on top of him and the tight hold he still has on his chest and the bottom of his neck doing everything possible to make breathing difficult. He feels trapped but only a little helpless as Kuro hisses, “Didn’t I tell you to shut up earlier?”
“Make me,” Kenma says, muffled by the fabric of his sheets bunching below him. He squirms in anticipation of what’s to come.
It barely takes a second before Kuro is pulling back, letting go of him. “Off,” he says, and tugs on the neck of his zip-up with enough force that it lifts Kenma’s chest slightly off the bed. The seams creak ominously but hold up.
“You, too,” Kenma says as he struggles out of the sleeves, not much room to move with Kuro still straddling him, weight resting on his lower back and bare ass. It’s graceless flailing at best and he shifts his legs around to get rid of his underwear and pants just the same, gets rewarded with a groan from Kuro at the accidental friction he causes. His shirt is a different story though and he says, “Help me with this or get off.”
There’s the dull thud of fabric hitting the floor and then Kuro’s hands are wrapping over his lower back, pushing underneath his shirt and forcing it up and up and up until it gets caught on his shoulders and there’s actual pulling involved, as Kuro stretches it over his head. And then just leaves it there, sinks him into darkness and the awkward feeling of being stuck in your shirt collar.
“Kuro,” Kenma hisses, hears him laugh in response. Still always just as annoying as usual even when he’s about to be balls deep inside of Kenma and they are technically fighting each other here. Kuro’s weight disappears from on top of him and Kenma uses the chance to push up and rid himself off his shirt, ruffling his hair further and glare already on his face as he searches for where Kuro has disappeared to. He finds him next to the bed, stepping out of his pants and underwear and having the audacity to fold them up before he sets them down.
Then he turns back towards Kenma, returns his full attention to him and the way Kuro is towering over him, face too blank and yet filled with so much arousal that it makes Kenma shiver with it.
“I want to blow you,” Kenma says instinctively because he always does when Kuro stands above him. And he can see Kuro hesitating for a split second before he shakes his head, climbing back onto the bed. Kenma narrows his eyes further. “You never let me-”
Kuro’s hand wraps over his mouth and when Kenma tries pulling away instinctively, his other hand is suddenly in his hair, keeping him in place. “You’re not in a place to make demands.”
Kenma snorts because, really, in the end, he’s making all the demands here. They wouldn’t be here if he didn’t know how to get Kuro here in the first place. They wouldn’t be naked with each other if Kuro wasn’t weak to his every whim. If there’s anyone who's not in a place to make demands, it’s Kuro. Because Kenma could break everything Kuro has been working for his whole life so easily.
The only reason he hasn’t is because he’s certain that it’s the only way he could lose Kuro for good.
Still, it’s ridiculous that Kuro is thinking otherwise. That he’s considering himself to be in charge in any way, shape, or form here. Because physically he might be. But mentally he’s always playing right into Kenma’s hand. Though maybe it’s what Kuro needs to believe to stay harsh with him, to engage in the roughness Kenma loves to tease out of him. It doesn’t matter though, right now Kenma doesn’t care.
What he does care about though is that the hand in his hair is the same hand that is covered in lube and of which two fingers were deep inside of him a few minutes ago. Talk about disgusting. So Kenma opens his mouth and bites.
Kuro flinches, drops his hand away from his mouth in an instant, and narrows his eyes at him, grip on his hair only tightening though, teetering into pain. “This is exactly why you’re not getting anywhere close to my dick with that mouth.”
Kenma feels his lips stretch into a grin, wide and ominous. “Please, I can stop you from fucking your girlfriend of the month in other ways.”
This time when Kuro flinches, it’s visceral, the sharp reminder of what he is doing slapped back into his face and making him go a little paler, his throat working against nothing. His hand drops away from Kenma’s head and suddenly it feels like there’s a chasm between them.
A step too far.
Kenma regrets it if only because he’s never out to hurt Kuro during their moments. Making him feel bad and guilty, making him angry through the sheer audacity Kenma has to exist as freely as he does, making him face the pain he’s putting Kenma through with his behavior, sure. Those are fair game. But he never means to actually hurt Kuro and jeopardize his chances at keeping him and their game.
Pressing the wrong buttons some days is inevitable though. Kuro’s still a person after everything and no matter how well Kenma knows him, he’s not a fight against a final boss that Kenma can memorize completely by sheer repetition.
But there’s never time to feel guilty about it for too long because he doesn’t want to lose the moment to Kuro’s misery about how he can’t be what Kenma would like him to be. Kuro’s already carrying the bigger package between them. So Kenma softens his smile, bridges the gap between them with careful movements, and reaches his hands out to cup Kuro’s face. He leans in until he can knock their foreheads together, watches Kuro blink and grimace from up close.
“Sorry,” Kenma offers. “I’m just jealous that they get more of you than I do. You know I’m not mad at you.”
Vulnerability. Gentleness. Understanding.
If anyone could witness them like this, they’d call him manipulative. But it’s the truth in the end. Kenma doesn’t hate Kuro for putting him through this even though he’d have every right to. In the same way, Kuro doesn’t hate Kenma for sticking around and letting him play this game with him. Kuro could probably live a normal life if Kenma disappeared from it.
But he can’t.
He’s too selfish.
So he continues with, “I love you,” and watches Kuro relax a little, eyes fluttering shut as he leans more weight into Kenma’s touch.
After a moment he mutters, “Kenma,” in the same way he always does in these moments. Too soft, too reverent. Chock-full of words he doesn’t ever say. But Kenma knows them by heart anyway, feels them choke his breath and make the pressure in his chest push up into his throat.
“Kiss me.” Kenma tips Kuro’s head up a bit but doesn’t lean in first, waits for Kuro to shift, hands reaching out again and curling over Kenma’s bare thighs. Only then does he move, accepts the invitation, and presses their lips together. Just pressure until Kuro shifts further, straightens up, and with it adjusts the slide of their lips. His thumbs are brushing along the sensitive skin of Kenma’s inner thighs and it’s not long before he moans quietly, dick making itself known again and mouth opening in invitation for Kuro’s tongue.
Kuro takes the offer, kisses him until they are panting into each other’s mouth, until Kenma’s hands have made their way into Kuro’s hair, twisting and tugging, pulling him infinitely closer. He wants to crawl into Kuro’s lap, wants to climb into him and never leave. Instead, he drags their lips apart after a while, tips his head to the side in another invitation for Kuro to restart the exploration of his neck with renewed effort, returning to teeth and suction, adding more bruises. Something to remember this by. Kenma gasps towards the ceiling, feels his toes curl into the sheets. And then Kuro’s hand wraps around his dick, dry and big, mostly just the friction Kenma was waiting for the whole time since Kuro fingered him earlier.
“Kenma,” Kuro breathes against his neck again and Kenma nods his head, pulls Kuro in even closer. Their knees knock together, his hips twitching up to meet the downstroke of Kuro’s hand around his dick.
“Keep going,” he whispers into Kuro’s hair and as long as he doesn’t have to look at Kuro while this happens this is fine. He doesn’t mind being face-to-face when they fuck. He just can’t deal with the softness in Kuro’s expression. The love showing so plainly but never in words. It’s the worst part of this for him. He can deal with the casual touching Kuro still subjects him to outside of these occasions. He can deal with the way Kuro’s eyes and attention linger on him when they are in a room with others — with Kuro’s girlfriend there, too. He can deal with Kuro being there and mother henning and making sure that Kenma takes care of himself. He just can’t deal with seeing his love returned face to face but not being able to figure out the right buttons to push to make it something spoken out loud. He wants to hear the words so badly by now that he’s inching closer and closer to making promises he shouldn’t.
His orgasm hits him by surprise and he gasps through it, hips jumping and Kuro’s hand around him tightening, jerking him through it with care and focus.
And only when he’s twitching with oversensitivity, does Kuro let go of his dick, shuffling in closer and reaching around him, cum covered fingers finding his hole while Kuro’s mouth bites another hickey into his shoulder.
Kenma whines at the feeling of Kuro pushing his fingers back into him, lube from before a little tacky and cum not enough to ease the friction completely. Still, he doesn’t protest, just says, “You’re being gross,” as he returns his own attention to Kuro, scritching his nails along the top of his back and neck — too gentle for marks but enough to make goosebumps pop up — while he noses at Kuro’s head, brushes his tongue against the shell of his ear.
Kuro exhales heavily, fingers twisting inside of him. “You like it.”
“A little,” Kenma confesses because really. They are so far into the deep end already that nothing even matters anymore. Kuro huffs a laugh, breaks off into a moan when Kenma blows air against his spit-slick ear. “Just because it’s you, though.”
Kuro pulls back then a little, far enough so that their eyes can meet again. He looks more sure again, more cocky, and pleased with the fact that the mood wasn’t ruined by his moment and that he could make Kenma come just as easily as always. He doesn’t deserve the full credit for it though, Kenma’s always so keyed up on days when Kuro announces himself coming over with clear intentions, his we need to talk texts causing almost a Pavlovian reaction in Kenma by now. There are reasons why he comes twice more often than not during these altercations between them.
Kuro being good at what he does is just one of them.
But a little praise doesn’t hurt if it means Kuro will take charge again, will take what he came here to take.
“I’m good,” Kenma offers after a moment where they watch each other too closely, Kuro’s fingers still pushing in and out of him. “You can fuck me.”
“Maybe I should make you ride me for being such a dick today,” Kuro says in response, though he pulls his fingers free, gestures for Kenma to turn around.
Kenma does though he rolls his eyes and flips his hair out of his face before it falls right back as he leans forward to pat along the sheets for the bottle of lube and condom from where they were dropped earlier. “If you aren’t interested in coming, that’s totally fine with me. I can jerk off just fine with something in my ass.”
But it’s not like Kuro really would put them both through it. Sure, he’d probably get a kick out of letting Kenma work for it for a while before he’d get impatient and take over anyway. They both know that, so there’s no point in starting. And really, turning his back to Kuro is all the invitation he needs in the end anyway. So as Kenma curls his fingers around the lube and condom, Kuro’s arms wrap around his waist, tugging him into his chest again. His dick comes to rest on Kenma’s lower back, hot and heavy. It makes Kenma’s breath leave him too shuddery.
“Get me ready?” Kuro mutters into his shoulder.
Spoiled. Kuro is the one that is spoiled here but still, Kenma nods his head and then rips open the condom and very much blindly and with the motions feeling all wrong rolls it onto Kuro’s dick. It’s not the hardest thing he’s ever done, but it would’ve been easier if Kuro had let go of him for just a second. At least the lube is easier and he only drips a little onto his bed.
He’ll make Kuro change the sheets before he leaves.
Payback.
“Come on,” he says as he twists his hand over Kuro’s dick once, twice. “You made me wait long enough.”
Kuro hums, hand brushing Kenma’s hair off his back and then he bites down. Kenma flinches at the sudden pain, slumping forward to escape the feeling but only succeeding in making Kuro follow right along until he’s back to pressing Kenma’s chest into the bed, his back arched and ass resting against Kuro’s crotch. If Kuro wanted to he could probably hump his way into forcing his dick inside. But as it is he lets go of Kenma’s neck, straightens up a bit. And as Kenma shifts into a more comfortable position, Kuro reaches between them and makes the whole thing a whole lot easier and smoother by simply holding his dick stable to push into Kenma.
Kenma whimpers at the pressure, knees slipping wider as he breathes against the slight discomfort that always comes with taking the job of preparation away from Kuro. Kuro is way more thorough when he’s left to his own devices. But this. This is what Kenma is here for. He doesn’t need more reminders of the fact that Kuro can make him feel better than he could ever do by himself. He doesn’t need more reminders that Kuro can — despite these encounters starting with jealousy and anger — be so gentle with him that Kenma could be happy with nothing more than just Kuro’s undivided attention in these situations. It’s enough that Kuro bottoms out with a groan of his own, hands clutching at Kenma’s waist, large enough that his fingers nearly touch on his stomach. It’s enough that he stays there breathing heavily and waits and waits and waits until Kenma can’t stand it anymore and kicks his heel into Kuro’s leg, pants, “Move. Fucking move.”
And only then does he actually start fucking him.
Because he always waits for Kenma to be comfortable before he goes in for the final attack. Before he starts up his rhythm of pulling out halfway and pushing back in, slow, then slower. Teasing in a way that leaves Kenma’s toes curling and his dick taking interest again. Kuro keeps this up until Kenma is shifting back into it to get more, to get harder, to get Kuro to slip up and lose his cool in the same way he makes Kenma want.
This time is no different but Kenma doesn’t let him dally around for long. Today, he can’t take the thought of Kuro putting him first, not after his slip-up. Today he needs Kuro to take from him, to take whatever he wants and needs, so Kenma can be sure he’ll come back by choice and not because he thinks Kenma needs him here. He does but that’s beside the point.
He needs Kuro to want him if he can’t have the proof of his love.
It’s over embarrassingly fast for Kenma even if he’s on his second orgasm. But he’s weak to the sounds Kuro makes, to the way he curls over Kenma, cages his body in, as his hips snap against his ass. The way he exhales his name again and again, moaning, “Kenma, Kenma, Kenma,” over and over right by his ear.
It’s so easy to get lost in it. So easy to pretend for just a moment that this is only his and no one else gets to have Kuro like this anymore. It’s enough to drive him over the edge with just a few jerks of his dick. And Kuro fucks him through it so beautifully, slows down a little but doesn’t stop, pushes him right from fine into another round of oversensitivity and the slowly rising feeling of overstimulation. But it makes it better. It drives the reality of this home, makes it settle more firmly in Kenma’s mind as he twists his head back, whimpers, “Please,” and “Kiss me,” and then into Kuro’s mouth “Can you just fucking come already,” when the discomfort finally drives him into impatience and anger.
Kuro laughs against his lips. Kenma reaches back and pulls too harshly on Kuro’s hair in response and with a surprised gasp, Kuro’s hips stutter, pressing in and stilling as he finally comes.
Sometimes Kenma wishes Kuro would paint him with his cum. Cover him or fuck him without a condom, laying claim over him in this twisted way as well.
Most times Kenma is just glad that a condom means easier clean up and less hassle and Kuro pulling away for just a moment to take it off and tie it up. It gives Kenma the chance to catch his breath, to roll onto his side or back and just give himself a few seconds of uninterrupted watching. He’s always on alert the second Kuro has come. There’s always a chance that today will be the day Kuro will come to his senses, realize what they are doing far too quickly, and leave before Kenma has had his fill.
So far he’s been lucky.
Kuro has never made to leave the second he got what he came for. Today he doesn’t either, rummages around in Kenma’s nightstand for a tissue to drop the condom into because he cares too much to leave too much of a mess for Kenma to clean. And only when the condom is wrapped up, does he place it onto the floor.
“Are you done?” Kenma asks, feeling his heart thrum with impatience and worry at how far away Kuro still is.
Kuro looks back at him, eyes still dark with want and face flushed with the exertion of sex. His hair has lost its shape, is sticking to his forehead and Kenma wants nothing more than to brush it back.
He wants-
Kuro’s graceless in the way he flops down next to him, mostly on his stomach and with an arm thrown over Kenma’s hips and his head pressing into the crook of his neck. The sigh that escapes him is heavy but satisfied and it makes Kenma’s heart calm down only a little while his body finally relaxes with its own satisfaction. He shifts, turns his body more towards Kuro, and ignores the unpleasant sensation of lube dribbling and drying on his skin in favor of wrapping his arms around Kuro, the one below him resting against his head while the other sneaks his way along his waist, fingers dragging up to in between Kuro’s shoulder blades in a motion that makes Kuro twitch a little. He’s ticklish but it never takes many caresses before he’s settling into stillness. Before he simply enjoys the soft form of affection Kenma doesn’t allow himself in any other setting.
They breathe.
Kenma wishes he could fall asleep like this, Kuro’s thumb on his hip having started a gentle back and forth, his nose a steady pressure against his neck, breath warming Kenma’s skin. Kuro’s hair is tickling his face with every subtle shift in either of their bodies, and there’s the distinct sensation of wetness dripping against his skin where Kuro’s cheek is resting. Still, Kenma is drowsy from the drop in anticipation and two orgasms. But there’s an itch at the back of his mind that will never let him rest in moments like these.
There’s always a reason for him to stay on guard.
Always something that reminds him that this isn’t final. That Kuro isn’t his.
“I need to break up with her soon,” Kuro mutters into his neck, voice rough and wet. Kenma's hand twitches on his back, pausing in its gentle up and down for barely a second. “She's getting ideas.”
Sometimes in these moments, Kenma wants to speak up. Wants to know. Will you ever leave them for me, he wants to ask, or will it always be because of me? Only a slight difference in wording and yet wholly different in meaning. But he never asks because he's never ready for the answer. Still, he offers, “Do you need me to do something?”
Because Kenma will. He'll draw all the attention, act like the lovesick best friend he might as well be, and make Kuro's girlfriends seethe with jealousy that he's right there — always will be — and that Kuro doesn’t mind, lets him be close and touch and look at him like that, even though he is taken. And they'll try to make Kuro choose and then Kuro will get to be rightfully angry because he's my best friend, we've known each other since we were children, why would you think you're my first choice? Kenma’s heard it all before. Kuro is kind but he is fiercely loyal as well. And so Kenma will stand in the background and smile, all pure innocence, malice hidden, and feel the satisfaction curl within him that nobody will ever replace him or the love they share.
It's all part of the game they play.
Kuro is his and Kenma is Kuro's.
“I think I've got it handled,” Kuro mumbles, pressing his lips up against his chin, soft and at odds with the marks littered all over Kenma's body. The sigh that follows brushes along Kenma’s skin, makes him shiver with the heat of it. He feels Kuro’s lips move in silent words. Words that never see the light of day, never get an actual voice and it makes the tears prick in the corners of Kenma’s eyes. He blinks against them, stares resolutely at the ceiling.
After a moment Kuro shifts, moves his body until he’s got himself propped up above Kenma again, forcing himself into his vision as his arms cage in his head. His eyes are redrimmed, still shimmering with tears, and yet so fucking gentle that it makes Kenma’s head swim. Kuro brushes his hair back, clears his face from the tangled mess it has become. It is so unfair how he starts this with anger and always ends it making Kenma fall a little harder and deeper.
“Again,” Kenma gasps against the pressure in his throat, needs something to blame his tears on. “Fuck me again.”
He’s not ready for their time to end already. He’s not ready to give up Kuro’s undivided attention again. He’s not ready to-
“Kenma,” Kuro says, and then he leans back in, kisses him again, and tastes of salt, and Kenma curls his arms around his back, tight and with his nails pressing crescents into Kuro’s shoulders, to keep him as close as he possibly can. He’s not supposed to leave marks, but this much he allows himself. Because Kuro cares about his girlfriends not catching on until he’s tired of keeping up the pretense. But Kenma doesn’t care for their feelings. He doesn’t care, he doesn’t care, he doesn’t care. He just wants Kuro to be his for a moment longer. Seconds, minutes, hours. Anything.
But he cares about Kuro and about not causing him trouble, so he usually keeps his teeth and mouth and nails to himself. Not his words though. Never his words.
“I love you,” Kenma breathes into the kiss. He needs Kuro to become angry again, for him to return to treating him roughly and harshly, and not like he is the most precious thing to him. He needs their balance to stay the same or else this will only hurt worse from now on.
Kuro shushes him, fingers curling over his jaw and mouth claiming his in an almost bruising kiss now. But he makes no move to flip Kenma over, no move to turn him away for his love.
And that’s the flip side to this whole thing.
Kenma breaks Kuro with no care, pushes for actions that make him snap with jealousy and anger because it is what he needs for himself to deal with this.
Kuro breaks him by showing him kindness despite it all because that’s just who he is. He loves with his whole heart, even when he doesn’t want to.
In the end, neither of them leaves these moments whole.
And one day they’ll surely pay the price for it.
But not yet.
Kenma isn’t ready to admit defeat until he clears the final level and gets Kuro to give his feelings for him a voice.
He’ll break his own heart as many times as he has to until then.
Kuro will make sure to fix it again anyway.