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Sorry, Inukashi, Nezumi thought with a grin as he kicked the front door shut, but it looks like I was right to turn you down.
He followed the sound of sizzling down the hallway to the kitchen. He kept his footsteps silent; when Nezumi poked his head around the corner, the white-haired man humming to himself as he chopped peppers didn’t so much as glance over his shoulder.
Nezumi smiled softly. Inukashi had run into him on his way home and had tried to persuade him to bring Shion to her house for dinner that night—she’d been teaching Junior to cook and the 10-year-old was apparently dying to serve his uncles—but even though he knew they were long overdue to visit Inukashi and Junior, Nezumi had felt compelled to decline.
Knowing how impossible it was for Shion to ever turn down such an invitation, Nezumi was relieved he’d already done so—after all, how long had it been since they’d been in the house together at dinnertime? How long had it been since they’d managed to see each other for more than the time it took to shower in the morning, to brush their teeth before bed at night?
Besides, after smelling whatever it was Shion was frying on the stove, Nezumi knew dining in was undoubtedly the better option.
He crept soundlessly into the kitchen. Not that he even needed to be so careful; he smirked to himself as Shion’s humming seemed to grow even louder and more out-of-tune. I guess time isn’t the cure for airheadedness.
As Shion laid down the knife next to the chopping board, Nezumi slid one finger down the nape of Shion’s neck.
He had to keep himself from snickering when Shion spun around in alarm and let out a breathless, “Nezumi!”
“Hello, Your Majesty,” Nezumi drawled. “I’m home. What’s for dinner?”
“Your head on a platter,” Shion deadpanned.
“Surely the grocer had some finer meats to offer?” Nezumi teased.
Shion turned around and picked up the knife again.
“Let’s not be too hasty with that,” Nezumi said cheerfully. He glided forward, stepping behind Shion as close as he could without touching the other man. His breath ghosted along the back of Shion’s neck; his nose just barely brushed against the hair by Shion’s ear. He felt Shion tense—and he knew it wasn’t from anger. How long has it been? Much, much too long. “Shall I apologize?” Nezumi spoke softly into Shion’s ear. “Will that allow me to keep my head?”
“Depends on if you mean it,” Shion murmured.
Nezumi nuzzled against the fine white hair on the back of Shion’s neck. He felt a shiver run through Shion, and brought a hand up to turn Shion’s chin toward him. “I earnestly apologize for whatever distress I caused you,” he whispered before fastening his lips to Shion’s.
The kiss completely bypassed “hello” and “welcome home” and went straight to “I missed you” and “I want you” and “yes.” Nezumi felt sparks on his tongue, felt himself melting wherever he was pressed against Shion. He heard the knife clatter to the countertop right before a hand came up to tangle in his hair. He pushed Shion back against the counter until they were drawn flush against each other, and brought a hand up to the top button of Shion’s shirt—
“The oysters!” Shion cried as he ripped himself out of Nezumi’s arms.
Nezumi blinked.
“Oh good, they’re all right,” Shion said with relief. “Dinner’s ready! Are you hungry, Nezumi?”
“Starving.” There was an aching throb to Nezumi’s voice.
“Great!” Shion’s smile was bright and innocent. “I made plenty.”
Nezumi sighed.
“Nezumi, would you set the table please?” Shion said offhandedly as he focused on the frying pan.
So much for that, Nezumi thought sullenly. Sighing again with muted frustration—Is airheadedness considered a chronic disease?—Nezumi resigned himself to digging out some silverware.
“Pass me the oysters?”
Shion picked up the platter of food and handed it to Nezumi with a bright smile. “I’m so glad you like it,” he said happily. “It really has been so long, I’d nearly forgotten how to cook at all.”
“Still got it,” Nezumi assured him as he piled more of the deep-fried oysters onto his plate. “Actually, Inukashi said she’s teaching Junior to cook. You should give him a few lessons too.”
Shion slanted an amused look at Nezumi. “You really shouldn’t call him that. You know Inukashi hates it.”
“I’ll be damned if I’ve got to put up with two airheads answering me every time I’m trying to yell at just one of you,” Nezumi growled.
Shion shook his head, but the amusement was still on his face. “So how did rehearsals go today?”
Nezumi thought back to the actress that showed up tipsy and incapable of remembering her lines, the rotted floorboard that was only discovered when a stagehand stepped directly onto it and subsequently broke his ankle, and the seamstress who had become so hysterical over taking the wrong measurements for the leading actress that she’d tried to cut off her own hand.
“It was a bit livelier than usual, but I think it’s getting along quite well,” Nezumi answered smoothly.
It just wouldn’t do Shion any good to hear that Nezumi had been almost certain that the director’s assurances for ten-hour-or-less rehearsals had been a pipe dream.
Shion smiled at Nezumi as he set his fork down. “Well, I’m glad things weren’t too lively and you were still able to make it home early,” he said.
Of course he had. After having told Shion about his new rehearsal schedule and seeing the way Shion’s face lit up, Nezumi had spent the day growling threats and promising pain to anyone who might keep him at the theater past six o’clock.
“Me too,” said Nezumi, thinking about how remarkably his words had seemed to help sober Yuka up until she was able to get her lines right seven out of ten times.
Shion stood and began picking plates off the table. “You wash, I’ll dry,” he said over his shoulder as he walked toward the sink.
“Yes, Majesty,” Nezumi grinned as he picked up the empty platters.
Nezumi twisted the faucet on and turned to Shion as he waited for the running water to heat up. “I’ll cook for you tomorrow,” he declared. He held up his hands and waggled his fingers menacingly. “My Macbeth soup.”
Shion gave him a wistful look. “I’d love that. You know I’d love that. But I don’t think I’ll be able to make it home in time for dinner tomorrow.”
Nezumi crossed his arms over his chest and fixed Shion with a look that said Explain yourself.
“I already said I didn’t know when I could do something like this again!” Shion said hastily. “It’s a miracle I could get home early today! We’re right in the middle of drawing up that new bill for funding Chronos’s newest research facility. You know that if I don’t comb over every paragraph, those people will find some loophole to get away with some…some abomination. I swear I won’t let that happen.” There was a fierceness to Shion’s voice.
Nezumi heard the unspoken again and softened immediately. He picked up the sponge and began soaping up the first dish. “Well, then I suppose I should be grateful you were able to be home early today,” he said as he handed the wet plate to Shion.
“I probably shouldn’t have done it, but I just had to make sure I was home today,” Shion said quietly. “We haven’t spent any time together in so long, and when you told me you wouldn’t have to rehearse in the evenings anymore…I just had to be here today.”
Nezumi passed another dripping wet plate to Shion. “You just let me know when you’re going to be home early again,” he said. “I want to return the favor.”
Shion’s sunny smile helped ease the disappointment. “I will,” Shion promised.
They washed and dried the rest of the dishes in companionable silence. While Nezumi put the large platters away in the hutch, Shion sorted the silverware away in their drawer. “Thank you,” Shion said to Nezumi when he snapped the hutch’s doors closed. “Is that everything?”
Nezumi gave a little bow. “Everything is clean and back in its rightful place, Your Majesty.”
“Good.” Shion’s smile turned…wicked. “Then you may resume what you were doing before.”
“What I was doing before?” Nezumi repeated blankly.
Shion strode up to Nezumi and murmured, “It went a little something like this,” before pressing a hot, fierce kiss to Nezumi’s lips.
When Shion pulled away, Nezumi cleared his throat. “Right. That.”
And without another word, he grabbed Shion ‘round the waist and lifted him up—Shion, gasping in surprise, wrapped his legs around Nezumi—and proceeded to carry him out of the kitchen.
“Wait—Nezumi—“
“Don’t even try to tell me to stop now,” Nezumi growled.
Shion blinked at him innocently. “No, it’s not that. I just wanted to turn off the light.”
With a snort of laughter, Nezumi swiped impatiently at the light switch. “Are we good now? No more interruptions?”
“No more interruptions,” Shion whispered as he pressed closer to Nezumi in the dark.
“Shion,” Nezumi groaned when Shion nipped at the pulse point on his throat. It was a few moments before he realized that he’d stopped moving. Right, bedroom, now.
To the front entrance, up the stairs, down the hallway. Nezumi decided their house was too damn big; there shouldn’t be so many obstacles between a man and his bed.
He had just crossed the doorway of the bedroom when Shion dragged his mouth up from Nezumi’s neck and skimmed his tongue across Nezumi’s lips. Nezumi started to groan, “Fuck,” but then Shion took advantage of his open mouth and the rest of the word turned into a vague “mmm.” Nezumi almost faltered when he felt the slick slide of Shion’s tongue against his own, hot and wet and such a fucking tease.
Shion let out another gasp when his back hit the mattress. Nezumi kneeled over him, grinning a self-satisfied little grin, and slid a hand down Shion’s stomach, deftly undoing the buttons of his shirt as he went. Shion’s shirt was swept aside as Nezumi’s hands ran down Shion’s skin, gliding and teasing until little keening sounds began to emit from Shion’s mouth, and then he kissed him again.
He loved kissing Shion like this, achingly slow and languidly tender. Shion’s hands kept clutching at his back, his arms, his waist, urging him on, but Nezumi continued to lazily stroke Shion’s lips with his own, content to keep the pace tantalizingly slow. Shion was shivering underneath him, still making those eager little sounds in the back of his throat and kneading Nezumi’s back with his fingers and fuck, Nezumi had missed this.
When Shion reached for the hem of Nezumi’s t-shirt, Nezumi swatted his hands away. “No touching,” Nezumi commanded.
With a coy smile, Shion reached his arms up over his head until he was stretched out on the bed; on display like that before Nezumi, his body was an invitation.
And, hands already working on undoing the buckle of Shion’s belt, Nezumi accepted it.
The gentle slithering sensation of the belt being pulled from his pants made Shion squirm. He watched restlessly as Nezumi dropped the belt over the side of the bed, then brought his hands to rest on Shion’s thighs. But instead of sliding his hands up where Shion was clearly expecting them to go, they slid down, over his knees, caressing his calves, down to his feet, where he began peeling off Shion’s socks.
“Too slow, Nezumi,” Shion scolded breathlessly. “Taking too long.”
Nezumi moved back up the bed until he was nose to nose with Shion. “You made dinner,” he said lightly, “now enjoy your dessert.”
And with that, he began pressing kisses on every bit of skin he could find on Shion: sloppy, open-mouthed kisses, biting kisses that promised bruises later, alternately hurting and pleasuring Shion until he was dizzy from the sensations.
The look on Shion’s face was just too much. Nezumi ground his hips down, hard and fast and for only a second. The brief contact made him groan and made Shion mindlessly thrust his hips into the air, seeking that friction again.
“Please, Nezumi,” Shion begged.
Nezumi slid down towards Shion’s feet again, taking hold of the bottom of Shion’s pants and pulling them off in one smooth motion. Next came Shion’s boxers, tossed as carelessly away from the bed as his pants. As Nezumi crawled back up Shion’s body, he saw Shion stretch back further and clutch the headboard, knuckles white as he braced himself.
Nezumi grinned to himself, wolfish and fleeting, before lowering his head to take Shion’s cock into his mouth.
Shion jerked and made a strangled noise that soon gave way to ragged breathing. Nezumi was moving his lips slowly along Shion’s length, enjoying the trembling in Shion’s body as he clearly fought for restraint. Nezumi swirled his tongue around the tip of Shion’s cock and he saw Shion’s head loll back, lost in the feeling of Nezumi’s searing lips, the tongue that was blazing a scorching trail wherever it touched. When Nezumi kissed the head wetly, mouth open, tongue smoothing over the slit, Shion cried out his name.
And then suddenly, Nezumi was sucking ruthlessly on his cock and Shion was thrashing on the bed, begging and seeking for more, more, more—
But Nezumi pulled away.
Shion let out a piteous whine.
There was a soft chuckle before Nezumi said, “Not yet. Haven’t flown high enough yet.”
Nezumi was on his knees, straddled over Shion’s body so he wasn’t touching him. When Shion finally met his eyes, Nezumi slowly, deliberately licked his lips. The look that crossed Shion’s face then made Nezumi’s cock twitch.
He looked starved.
“Well, if you’re not going to let me come yet, you can at least let me touch you,” Shion said, trying to sound reprimanding; the hoarse throb of want in his voice dulled the effect.
“Fair enough.” Nezumi thought that maybe he shouldn’t have given in so easily—taunting Shion was just too delicious—but he had to admit to himself that he wanted—needed—Shion to touch him. He tugged his shirt off over his head and slid off the bed as he snapped open his jeans. When he looked up after shucking off his pants, he saw that Shion had discarded his shirt too. Naked and smirking mischievously, Nezumi kneeled back on the bed. He spread his arms invitingly and said, “Do with me what you will.”
He wasn’t at all prepared when Shion launched himself at him.
Nezumi let out a little huff of surprised laughter as Shion tackled him to the bed, but his amusement vanished quickly when his cock rubbed against Shion’s.
And then Shion’s mouth was back on his, teeth scraping against his lips, tongue greedily tasting, searching, stroking. Nezumi brushed his knuckles down Shion’s back, over his hip, until—
“Ohhhh,” Shion moaned as Nezumi’s hand closed around his cock and started pumping.
“Wanted to fuck you,” Nezumi said huskily as he watched Shion’s eyelids flutter and his teeth gnaw on his lip, “but you aren’t going to last much longer.”
Truth be told, neither was Nezumi. Nothing drove him closer to the edge than seeing Shion’s face as he lost himself in the throes of ecstasy, and right now, that faint blush on Shion’s cheeks and the little “o” his mouth formed as he panted were bringing Nezumi to his breaking point.
Shion let out a breathy whine when Nezumi moved his hand from his cock to his thigh, but then Nezumi undulated his hips against Shion’s and, with a, “Yes, Nezumi,” Shion carefully slid his cock along the length of Nezumi’s.
Careful only lasted for a second. Nezumi started thrusting up furiously, keeping his eyes on Shion’s face to gauge his angle, his speed, and just how close Shion was to losing it. The burning in Shion’s gaze kept urging him to go faster, faster until the momentum of his thrusts was severely hindering his ability to keep that friction going. Shion had just let out a frustrated sound when Nezumi reached his hand back up and wrapped it around the both of them as best he could. He pumped once, twice—
And Shion shouted as he came.
Nezumi’s hand kept moving, milking Shion and bringing himself closer until he finally let out a hoarse cry and shuddered as his orgasm washed over him.
Shion collapsed onto Nezumi, boneless and satiated. Nezumi wrapped an arm around Shion’s back and nuzzled his shoulder. They stayed like that for a few moments, sticky and winded but utterly content.
Until Shion raised his head from the crook of Nezumi’s neck.
“Nezumi,” Shion said musingly, “I think we should get married.”
“You don’t have to sound so horrified by the idea,” Shion said resentfully.
Nezumi scrubbed at his head for a moment before tossing the towel aside. “But it is horrifying. Fuck. Married? Us? Please.”
“I really don’t understand the problem.” Shion leaned his head back under the water to rinse the last remnants of shampoo out. “I mean, we’ve been together for five years. Isn’t that the natural progression of a relationship?”
“Since when has there been anything natural about our relationship?” Nezumi said moodily as he squirted some toothpaste onto his toothbrush. He took vigorously to the task of cleaning his teeth, foam comically filling his mouth.
Shion shut off the water and stepped out of the shower, wrapping a towel around his waist. He joined Nezumi by the sink and picked up his own toothbrush, fiddling with it absentmindedly. “I’m just trying to understand why you’re so upset,” Shion said. “I love you. You love me. Why would marriage be such a bad thing?”
Nezumi spat into the sink. “Would you quit saying that word? It’s revolting.”
“How is it revolting?” Shion cried, throwing his hands up in exasperation. “It’s what people do when they love each other! I don’t see how you can qualify it as being more disgusting than putting my cock in your mouth.”
Nezumi grinned at that as he dropped his toothbrush back into its cup. “You get so feisty when you’re angry,” he said teasingly. He dropped a quick, smacking kiss on Shion’s cheek. “Love that about you.”
Nezumi exited the bathroom while Shion glowered at his back. “This discussion isn’t over!” Shion called as he picked up the tube of toothpaste.
A hand appeared in the doorway, waggling its fingers. “Goodnight, dear,” Nezumi cheerfully replied.
Over the next week, Shion took to using every possible opportunity to pester Nezumi about the topic of marriage.
As they made time to have dessert together one night, Shion kept randomly inserting probing comments about Nezumi’s aversion to marriage between such topics as, “Did you hear that Rikiga’s girl left him for a janitor?” and, “I think we need a new washing machine, this one’s been making funny beeping sounds every time I try to run a steam cycle.”
When he called one night to let Nezumi know he was likely to work an all-nighter, he’d squeezed in a, “Marriage isn’t a dirty word, Nezumi—“ before he heard the sudden beep of the dial tone.
As they fumbled through their nightly ritual of getting ready for bed, Shion would pass Nezumi the razor with a, “Just think how happy Mom would be to officially welcome you to the family,” and soap Nezumi’s back in the shower while saying, “It wouldn’t have to be any big thing, we could just go down to the court house, you, me, two witnesses, we’d sign a sheet of paper, what’s wrong with that?”
Nezumi grew increasingly surlier.
It was later that week, as Nezumi was stitching back the unfortunate button that had popped off his favorite shirt, when Shion walked into the bedroom, unaware that Nezumi was at the very end of his patience.
Shion had looked rather exhausted when he first came through the doorway, but seeing Nezumi, his expression brightened. “Oh, you’d look good in a tux,” he said, eyes misting over. “Not that you’d have to wear one,” Shion added hurriedly, “especially if we just go down to the court house—“
Nezumi hardly noticed the thread snapping in his hands; something had snapped inside him, and as his temper boiled, it eclipsed everything else.
“That’s enough,” he bellowed. “You need to stop with this nonsense, Shion. We’re not going down to the court house. We’re not wearing tuxes. We’re not getting married.”
Hurt flickered over Shion’s face. “But why, Nezumi?”
“Because it’s stupid!” Nezumi roared. “It’s a pointless old ritual for pointless old romantics! It’s a sentimental farce that deceptively masks itself as the way to domestic bliss and the thought of being a part of it makes my skin crawl. Okay? Are you happy now? Can we stop talking about it?”
Shion looked as though Nezumi had strangled a baby in front of him. Nezumi instantly became furious with himself, but what else could he have done? If he hadn’t made it clear that a wedding wasn’t in their future, Shion would have kept prattling on about it and getting his hopes up for nothing. Still, though. The effort Shion was putting into not crying in front of Nezumi tempted him to take it all back.
But he couldn’t.
“Okay,” Shion said, bottom lip trembling perceptibly. “Okay. Sorry. It was just a thought. I won’t bring it up again.”
Shion walked dejectedly into the bathroom, shutting the door quietly behind him.
Nezumi crawled into bed and hated himself.
They stood beside one another in the bathroom the next morning, not a word exchanged between them. Shion was flossing while Nezumi shaved, frequently flickering his gaze over to Shion.
When Shion dropped the bit of floss in the bin and made to leave the bathroom, Nezumi finally broke.
“Wait,” he called. “Please, just—I’m sorry, okay, Shion? I shouldn’t have gone off on you like that. I just…I don’t like the idea of marriage, I’m sorry, but I don’t. That doesn’t mean I had to get so angry with you, and I’m sorry.”
Shion looked at him quietly for a moment. Nezumi hoped he could see the sincerity in his eyes. “All right,” Shion finally said, “I understand.”
They stood in awkward silence for another moment. “So…we’re okay, then?” Nezumi asked hesitantly.
“Yes,” Shion said, smiling briefly. It didn’t quite reach his eyes.
“Okay,” Nezumi said. “See you tonight, then.”
“Yes, see you,” Shion replied before disappearing from the bathroom.
Nezumi, determined to ignore the uneasy feeling in his stomach, distracted himself by reciting, line by line, the entirety of Jabberwocky.
Nezumi was sitting up in bed reading when Shion returned home that night.
“Long day?” he asked, taking in Shion’s slumped shoulders and the strained expression on his face. “You look ti—“
But Shion closed the bathroom door on the rest of Nezumi’s sentence.
Nezumi huffed. “Really, now,” he grumbled. He shook his head as he picked his book back up, waiting.
Ten minutes later, the bathroom door opened back up and Shion emerged. He had changed into a long-sleeved grey t-shirt and flannel pajama bottoms that made Nezumi lift his eyebrows in surprise; they normally went to bed in just their boxers.
As Shion lifted the covers to slide into bed, Nezumi glanced sideways at him. “Shion,” he said warily, “you’re not still mad about—“
“I’m tired,” Shion said curtly. He turned away from Nezumi and burrowed into the blankets. “Good night.”
Well, Nezumi was hardly going to let that be the final word. He tossed his book onto the bedside table and ripped the bed sheets off Shion, who sat up with a look of indignation on his face. “What do you think you’re—“ Shion started to say before Nezumi interrupted him with a furious, “What the hell, Shion.”
Shion looked startled. “Excuse me?”
Nezumi meant to stay angry. Angry was easier, safer. But the words crept out quiet and sad before he could stop them: “You said we were okay.”
Shion cast his eyes down to the mattress. “I thought we were. But I had all day to think about it and I’ve decided I’m still quite upset with you.”
Nezumi had absolutely no idea how to respond to that.
“On some level, I can understand your point of view,” Shion continued. “I can see why you’d think it’s silly and pointless. I guess what upsets me so much is that you didn’t even try to see it from my point of view.” His hands curled into fists. “I mean, you didn’t even take a second to think about it. You immediately dismissed it. Maybe I don’t absolutely need a marriage, but it would have been nice if we at least discussed it, you know? It would have been nice if we both had a chance to reach that conclusion at the same time rather than you deciding and me having to accept it.”
Well, now Nezumi felt like a complete asshole.
“I’m sorry, Shion,” he said again. “I don’t know what else to say. I’m a bastard and I let my temper fuck things up again and I’m sorry.” He sighed heavily, running a hand through his hair in a gesture of frustration. “Maybe you’d be better off with someone that wants the white picket fence and the kids and the big fancy wedding.”
The punch Shion delivered to his shoulder was probably going to leave a bruise.
“Don’t be stupid,” Shion said heatedly. “I said I don’t need a wedding—I’m not going to leave you for something like that. Yes, I’m upset, and yes, you hurt my feelings, but I love you, Nezumi. So maybe I need some time to be cross with you, but that doesn’t mean I don’t love you anymore.”
Sometimes, Nezumi wasn’t at all sure he deserved Shion. “I’m sorry,” he said again, feeling pathetic.
“I know,” Shion replied. “And I do forgive you but…I just need a little time, okay?”
“Yeah,” Nezumi said, “sure.”
Shion looked at him a bit sadly. He seemed to be on the verge of saying something, but he shook his head a little as if to dismiss the thought and reached for the blankets again. “Good night, Nezumi,” he said as he settled down once again.
“Good night, Shion,” Nezumi replied. He turned off his lamp and laid down beside Shion.
It was a long time before he finally fell asleep.
Two days passed. Shion was perfectly polite to Nezumi, but that’s all he was. They didn’t joke or flirt or do much of anything beyond asking each other a standard, “How was your day?” giving each other short, dry answers, and then turning in for the night.
Nezumi was on the brink of madness when an idea struck him.
When he came home late on the third day, he was surprised to find that Shion had beaten him home. Shion was sprawled on the bed, an arm flung over his eyes. Nezumi was afraid he might already be asleep and crept quietly into the bedroom, but then Shion peeked out from under his arm and said, “Welcome home.”
Nezumi smiled tentatively. “Hello.”
Shion completely lifted his arm from his face as he looked curiously at Nezumi. “What’ve you got there?”
Nezumi glanced at the bag gripped tightly in his hand. “Oh. That.” He toed off his shoes and walked to the bed where Shion was struggling into a sitting position—he got as far as shifting until his shoulders were on his pillows and then seemed to give up. Nezumi plopped down beside Shion, carelessly tossing the bag down beside him. “Never mind that for a bit. How was your day?”
“Long,” Shion replied, and Nezumi heard the truth ringing in that single word.
“Bill not going well?” Nezumi asked sympathetically.
Shion considered. “All in all, it’s going better than I expected. But the article Jabon wrote had absolutely no substance to it, and then Enver and Kadri bickered for nearly three hours about the finer points of license fees which, apparently, had no point whatsoever in relation to the bill, so they spent another hour bickering about that.” He rubbed at his eyes and then added, unnecessarily, “I’m so tired.”
Nezumi glanced down the bed. “Well, look at that,” he said, grinning, “bare feet, just begging for a rubdown. Why, Shion, did you plan this?”
“Absolutely not,” Shion said stubbornly.
Nezumi made a noncommittal noise that nonetheless sounded like a comment. “It would be a shame to ignore such tired, aching feet at any rate. You just sit back and relax while I,” Nezumi waggled his fingers at Shion, “work my magic.”
Shion snorted, but a smile flitted across his face.
Nezumi started massaging Shion’s right foot, fingers unerringly finding the knots and applying just the right amount of pressure to smooth them away. He rubbed in soothing circles that brought a sigh of relief from Shion as he melted back into his pillows. Smiling at Shion’s obvious pleasure, Nezumi moved to his left foot.
When Shion let out a happy little, “mmm,” Nezumi decided it was time to stop. The look on Shion’s face right then was of such utter contentment, Nezumi almost expected him to start purring.
“Better?” he asked.
“Mmm,” Shion replied vaguely. He smiled up at Nezumi—his first genuine smile in days. “Thank you.”
“No problem.”
“So how was your day?” Shion asked.
“Oh, the usual,” Nezumi said nonchalantly. “The set designers managed to destroy more things than they fixed, a light fixture fell and almost flattened Ikari, the choreographer threatened to quit for the eighth time when one of the extras stomped on her foot, and I was beyond brilliant but completely underappreciated in the midst of all the chaos.”
“Poor Nezumi,” Shion said, not even trying to hide the laughter laced in his sympathetic tone.
“I know,” Nezumi replied mournfully. He pretended to perk up. “But it will all inevitably somehow fall into place with only days to spare until opening night, and so I shall soldier on.”
“A true hero,” Shion said solemnly; his eyes sparkled in amusement. “Now, what’s in that bag?”
Nezumi smirked. “Not knowing is driving you mad, isn’t it?”
“Nezumi.”
Well, Nezumi wasn’t going to bother arguing with that tone of voice—after all, he’d only just escaped their last argument. He picked up the bag and shook it enticingly, pleased to see real interest in Shion’s expression. He reached in…and pulled out a small cherry cake, perfectly sized for two.
Shion turned an astonished gaze on Nezumi.
“Stopped by your mom’s,” Nezumi said. “Haven’t had this in a while, have we?” He pulled the protective plastic cover off the plate Karan had given him, then dove back into the bag to retrieve two forks. He handed one to Shion, who still looked slightly dumbfounded, and said, “Dig in.”
Nezumi stuck his fork into the cake at once, but paused when Shion didn’t do the same. He glanced at Shion and almost burst out laughing: in his almost completely flat position, Shion couldn’t reach the cake to eat it, but he was clearly reluctant to have to move, no matter how much he loved his mother’s cherry cake.
“On second thought,” Nezumi said, smiling mischievously, “why don’t I feed you, Your Majesty?”
Shion glanced at the cake, at Nezumi, and back at the cake. He met Nezumi’s gaze, licked his lips, and said, “Go on, then.”
Damn, but Shion could be such a tease.
Nezumi broke off a piece of cake and brought the fork to Shion’s lips. Shion chewed a couple times before swallowing it down, a pleased smile on his face. He hummed happily. “Delicious.”
“Yeah,” Nezumi said vaguely as he ate a bite without really tasting it. His eyes were fixed on Shion’s mouth, watching his pink tongue dart out to catch the crumbs off his lips.
Shion continued on in this vein, bringing Nezumi closer to insanity while pretending to not even notice. It wasn’t until Nezumi lifted the last bite of cake to Shion’s lips that Shion finally raised his eyes to Nezumi’s, keeping them fixed there as he opened his mouth, took in as much of the fork as he could, and slowly slid his lips down it, catching the cake with his teeth.
“Ngh,” said Nezumi.
“Mmm,” Shion moaned as he swallowed. He kept his eyes closed for a moment, the picture of bliss.
Nezumi busied himself with gathering the trash, making a quick trip to the bathroom to dump it all out and take a deep, steadying breath before rejoining Shion on the bed.
“There’s something else in that bag,” Shion said accusingly.
“Never said there wasn’t,” Nezumi taunted.
“What is it?”
“You sure you want to find out?”
“Nezumi.”
A wildly delighted grin erupted on Nezumi’s face. “Close your eyes,” Nezumi commanded.
Shion did so immediately. He heard the rustling sound of Nezumi pulling something from the bag and tried not to tense. The bed creaked as Nezumi shifted, and Shion could tell that Nezumi was now straddled over him. After a moment, he felt Nezumi pick up his left hand, fingers gently circling his wrist, thumb resting on his pulse point…and then he felt something slide on to his third finger.
Shion’s breath caught in his throat.
“Look,” Nezumi whispered, softly, urgently.
Shion’s gaze immediately locked on to his left hand. It was a plain, thin gold band, completely unadorned and unobtrusive.
And it was the most beautiful, most precious thing he had ever laid eyes on.
Shion stared as Nezumi brought his left hand to his mouth, watched as Nezumi parted his lips and lewdly sucked on that finger. When Nezumi’s tongue darted out and traced over the ring, Shion shuddered violently, a small gasp escaping his lips.
“Like that, do you,” Nezumi said in a low voice, pressing a wet kiss to Shion’s palm.
Perhaps it was madness to find a simple gold ring so erotic, but Shion had grown hard as soon as Nezumi slipped it on his finger and it was abruptly just too much.
“Fuck me,” he pleaded.
Nezumi groaned, the sound laced with both amusement and arousal. “Love when you beg for it.”
Shion rolled his hips up, pressing his erection to Nezumi’s thigh. He looked at Nezumi through lowered lids. “Fuck me,” he repeated, a whisper that screamed with blazing need.
It was only after he was naked that Shion wondered how on earth Nezumi had undressed them both so quickly. He’d been too transfixed by the new feeling of cold metal on his finger and the way Nezumi kept touching it, as if to keep reminding him it was there, that Nezumi had put it there.
He heard Nezumi fumble through the top drawer of their bedside table and pulled his knees up in anticipation. He lazily reached a hand down and stroked himself, waiting, waiting—
“Stop touching yourself,” Nezumi said in annoyance. “That’s my job.”
“Do it, then,” Shion said challengingly.
Nezumi nipped his thigh. “Don’t be fresh.”
Before Shion could form a retort, he felt a slick finger trail between his legs. “Yes,” was all he could say as Nezumi circled his puckered flesh; a loud moan was all he could manage when that finger slipped inside him.
Another finger joined it after a minute, then a third, pumping and stretching in slow, measured movements until Shion felt like he would go mad.
“Enough,” he snapped.
“You sure?” Nezumi said huskily. “It’s been a long time.”
“I’m fine, it’s fine, I’m ready,” Shion babbled, bursting with impatience. “Just do it.”
He moaned with relief and desire and, yes, the tiniest bit of pain when Nezumi slid inside him with one smooth motion.
“Fuck,” Nezumi panted. “Fuck.” He leaned forward and caught Shion’s lip between his teeth, sucking and nibbling, wavering between a kiss and a bite. He kept his hips flexing, the barest of motions. Shion’s cock was trapped between their two bellies and he writhed feverishly, his senses overwhelmed. Shion whimpered pleadingly, and Nezumi, grinning—Love when you beg for it—began to thrust.
Shion’s legs wrapped tight around his waist as Nezumi fucked him as deep as he could reach and as slow as he could stand. “Harder,” Shion begged, and Nezumi slid a knee forward to try to drive himself deeper still. Shion’s hands skated down his spine, fingers tracing arbitrary patterns on his skin. Nezumi kissed him hungrily, tongue thrusting in time with his hips.
Shion broke away first, gasping out, “Please, Nezumi, faster.”
Nezumi pretended not to hear. He circled his hips slowly, tauntingly; he drank in Shion’s cries and the sight of his fists clenching around the sheets. “Do you remember,” he said casually, “what you said the last time you fucked me?”
Shion gasped and turned his face away, blushing furiously. “Don’t make fun of me.”
Nezumi ran a hand down Shion’s thigh, stopping to cup his knee. “I’m not making fun of you,” he said. “It was sexy as hell. Go on. What was it, Shion?”
“I, I said,” Shion stuttered, shivering as Nezumi slid his leg up to get a better angle, “I wanted to crawl inside you.”
Nezumi thrust into him, hard and deep, and knew from the way Shion’s eyes rolled back in his head that he had him right where he wanted him. “I know exactly what you meant,” he said throatily, and thrust forward again and again, a little faster each time.
Shion’s hands were gripping the bed sheets so tightly that Nezumi wouldn’t be surprised to hear them tear. His eyes had fluttered shut, and his moans grew louder and more enthusiastic as Nezumi fucked him harder.
“Shion,” Nezumi said, a curious insistence in his voice, “Shion, look.”
Shion obeyed instantly, opening his eyes to see Nezumi wrap his left hand around Shion’s cock; his eyes widened at what he saw, shocked and a little bit outraged that he hadn’t noticed it until now.
A ring matching Shion’s circled Nezumi’s third finger.
All it took was feeling that ring slide down his cock once for Shion to buck his hips wildly into the air, crying out hoarsely as he came.
“Fuck,” Nezumi growled. He grasped Shion’s hips and tugged him closer, thrusting into him fiercely for one, two, three seconds before his back arched like a bow and he spilled inside Shion.
“Oh,” Shion panted quietly, still trembling with the aftershocks of his orgasm.
“Yeah,” Nezumi agreed, flopping down on the bed beside Shion. Shion moved to snuggle up against Nezumi’s side; smiling tenderly at this sweet, innocent side to Shion, Nezumi combed Shion’s hair back and kissed him on his forehead. With a contented sigh, Shion rested his head on Nezumi’s chest and was asleep within moments.
Nezumi lay awake for a long while, listening to Shion’s soft, steady breathing and staring at the hand that rested on his chest, the glint of gold burning his eyes.
When he awoke the next morning, Nezumi had to force himself to not groan in exasperation. Really, he should have been expecting it.
It was a Saturday, his brain fuzzily supplied when he wondered why there was so much sunlight in the room. Saturdays meant sleeping in, Saturdays meant no work…
…Saturdays meant Shion could lounge in bed waiting for as long as it took for Nezumi to wake up so he could bother him with more questions.
And wait is what Shion had obviously done. When Nezumi’s eyes cracked open, the first thing he saw was Shion propped up on his elbow, staring at Nezumi with an expectant look on his face.
Can’t a man shower before he gets ambushed? Nezumi thought sulkily.
Clearly, the answer to this was “no” as Shion, with a glance down at their hands, said, “So…rings.”
Nezumi sighed. “Yes.”
“Why?” A complex question phrased so simply.
Luckily, the answer was simple too.
“Because this,” Nezumi raised his left hand, waggling his ring finger pointedly, “is all we need. We don’t need the pretty words or the signed document or the silly ritual—which, if you didn’t know, used to be illegal for people like us. I don’t care to take part in something that used to be used to discriminate.” He could tell by the look in Shion’s eyes that part of Shion wanted to scoff at him, probably in the hopes of making him feel ridiculous enough to change his mind. In reality, though, Shion could appreciate—maybe even somewhat agree with—what he was saying. He felt relieved.
“But why the rings?” Shion pressed. Clearly, he couldn’t seem to reconcile a Nezumi who was against marriage with a Nezumi who would give him something so symbolic of the rite. “Why even go that far?”
Nezumi smiled as he took Shion’s hand, stroking the ring with a long finger. “Did you also know,” he said conversationally, “that the act of exchanging rings came well before wedding rituals were established?” He brought Shion’s hand to his lips and pressed a kiss to the ring. “Privately exchanged as a symbol,” he murmured. He turned his face up to smile jauntily at Shion. “I have no objection to doing this much.”
Shion knew what Nezumi meant but wouldn’t say. For you. Because I love you. Because he couldn’t give Shion what he had really wanted, but he’d been determined to give Shion what he could. He always gave Shion everything he could.
To distract Nezumi from noticing the tears in his eyes, Shion leaned in and kissed him. Softly, sweetly, lingeringly.
“You know,” Shion said when they pulled away, a teasing quality to his tone, “by not getting legally married, we’re giving up a lot of privileges.”
Nezumi snorted. “If we’ve gone this long without them, we don’t need them.”
“I don’t know about that,” Shion said musingly. The amusement hadn’t faded from his voice. “You’d still be covered by my insurance once you can’t live off your looks anymore”—Nezumi snorted again—“not to mention the tax breaks.”
“First of all,” Nezumi said resentfully, “I do not live off my looks, I live off my talent. And I plan to act until the day I die, thank you very much. Secondly,” he fixed Shion with a mock-incredulous stare, “you’ve had enough money to retire off of since you were 21, what the hell do you care about tax breaks for?”
Shion heaved a long-suffering sigh. “Oh, well, I tried.”
Nezumi raised an eyebrow. “Does this mean I win?”
Shion huffed petulantly. “I wasn’t aware this was a competition.”
Nezumi leaned in to kiss him again. “Not a competition,” he murmured against Shion’s lips, “a debate. Which you competed valiantly in, but given that your linguistic abilities haven’t improved much in the past decade, it was a losing battle.”
Shion pressed closer to Nezumi, softly stroking his lips over Nezumi’s jaw. “I wouldn’t say that I lost,” he countered lightly. “I may not have gotten the tax breaks, but I still got the ring.”
Nezumi slid a hand into Shion’s hair, pulling his head back so he could nuzzle his neck. “Clever, Majesty,” he whispered. He trailed his left hand down, down, the knowledge of what that band of metal could reduce Shion to fresh in his mind, and sure enough—
“Fuck,” Shion hissed.
With a wicked grin, Nezumi breathed, “Your wish, my command,” and rolled Shion into the mattress.