Fondofit's writings

“Would you stop that?”

The sound of leather-clad fingertips tapping on a metal tabletop abruptly stops. After five minutes of tapping, Kaz could only tolerate the annoyance for so long. The frustrated sigh coming from the man next to him makes his mouth quirk in a small smile. He’ll gleefully take his little wins where he can.  The bickering, no matter how minute, helps him stay calm in the audio haze of white noise.

Kaz is aware that his anger is getting the better of him. His bi-weekly check-ups with the medical staff have warned him about stress and high blood pressure. It’s the frustration of being so useless, while also being the XO. He could do more and his advice was sound. However, the past few instances of Venom ignoring him were grating on whatever was left of his patience. Even now, he feels the echo of pain from the strain he was putting on his body. 

It’s been mentioned that if he clenches his jaw any harder, he’ll crack his teeth. 

Thankfully, the tapping does not continue. He finally looks across the table at the perpetrator. Ocelot looks nowhere near as put-out as Kaz had assumed. That sigh must have been for show. No, instead, Ocelot was leaning forward in his chair, chin in hand, smiling smugly at him. And for what?! He must be doing this just to piss him off. 

There’s a silent standstill between the two of them. It’s like every moment comes down to a duel scene from those cheesy westerns Ocelot tries to imitate. As if the two of them were standing across a dusty road waiting for the quickdraw. It’s Ocelot who moves first this time, keeping eye contact as he adjusts the radio headset over his head. Kaz could feel his hackles rise.

Ocelot’s nonchalance only adds to his ire. 

This silence doesn’t last long enough. Ocelot, for all he is like his namesake, likes to toy with his prey. He pushes boundaries in a way that would be admirable if it weren’t normally used with someone in the interrogation chair. Kaz has to admit the man has skill, but he also understands that skill could be used against him.

It’s only a couple of minutes of awkward silence before Ocelot leans over the table to point his gloved finger between Kaz’s eyes.

“You know, you should just relax and put your faith in the Boss. There’s no reason to be so high-strung about this.”

Kaz is about to retort, but decides against it. All of these small annoyances be damned. His patience is so thin at the moment that he quells the urge to bite back on the tip of his tongue. He’s just one big ball of anger and stress with no outlet. He knows acting out won’t solve any of his problems, so he lets out a deep breath and brings a hand to rub his temple in frustration.

“There. You see? No need to go against everything I say. It’s not… well, I guess it is an unspoken competition, but…” Ocelot smiles; nothing smug about it this time. “In the end, he’ll make a decision and call if he needs us.”

Kaz watches as Ocelot, the cheeky little shit, tentatively pulls Kaz’s hand away from his head to rest flat on the table. Then pats it. 

What an ass.

He looks down, watching as Ocelot’s hand slowly moves up and down from fingertip to wrist in a soothing gesture. There are waves of pressure being applied as he moves, like some kind of half-assed massage. 

“You just need to sit back and relax. You’re going to give yourself an aneurysm before this whole mission ends.”

“Ocelot, I’m not that bad.”

“Says the man who has been audibly grinding his teeth for the past two hours.”

Kaz is quickly reminded of the ache running up his jawline. So maybe Ocelot is right. He is working himself up into an early grave. He hates to admit it, but everything that he has been involved in recently has made him irrationally angry. Not that anyone would really blame him. Their men were certainly sympathetic to his mood swings, but he also needed to pull himself together to set an example. 

However, he was allowed his anger, even when it was a detriment to himself.

The hand massaging him slowly moves up Kaz’s radius, pressing just a bit deeper into the muscle, causing a grunt to spill from the back of Kaz’s throat. Ocelot’s fingers work the knot efficiently, quickly working up his biceps to his shoulder. Always the professional, always so reliable; Ocelot was a stellar worker. Kaz knows how it’s all bullshit front; the dedication, the “holier than thou” attitude… but then Ocelot does things like this. These weirdly altruistic actions keep Kaz wondering what his aim is.

Ultimately, it’s all for Big Boss. How much of it is Ocelot just obeying orders? How much of it is something of his own volition? It’s too much to think about right now, while his shoulders were getting what was developing into a decent massage.

Ocelot's knuckle slowly rolls into Kaz’s knotted tissue. He exhales, feeling the tension dissipate as the muscle loosens. Kaz allows him to keep going, almost relishing in the touch at this point.

Kaz had once craved people’s attention. Before the fall of MSF, he would seek women out just to fulfill that need. Now, he could barely tolerate the brush of a uniform against his billowing jacket. Losing his limbs, his livelihood, did something to his psyche; he knows this. But he does not feel like there is anyone he would feel comfortable relying on. Not like he didn’t trust his men, but this wasn’t something he could talk to any of them about.

The best he has right now are Venom and Ocelot. 

So he allows this simple touch.

The call comes in. A confirmed mission complete. Ocelot stops massaging as Kaz relays the call for Pequod, confirming with Venom that his pickup is on the way. 

“Great job, Boss. Now call in a chopper to get ready for the next mission.” 

There’s a slight hesitancy on the other end of the radio that tells both Kaz and Ocelot that Venom will likely be out longer. It’s not a problem, Kaz answers before relaying commands over the base radio to expect supply drops incoming. With the conversation over, he takes the headset off his head and drops his hand to the table with a thump.

Ocelot looks at him with a grin.  He knew what was coming next and wasn’t really subtle about it.

“Got some time to kill now.”

“Mmn.”

“Come on, Miller, ya can’t always be a stick in the mud.”

It takes him a moment, but Kaz decides to take a deep breath before letting it out from between his teeth. He leans back in his chair just enough to keep sitting straight and closes his eyes. Ocelot takes this as his cue to stand behind him. His gloved hands are soft and warm, resting gently on both of his shoulders. It takes only a moment before Ocelot’s thumbs are gently pressed into tense muscles, slowly working the knots out. 

In the back of his throat, Kaz could barely keep the groan of relief down. He did not realize just how worked up he was. Ocelot’s fingers travel over the taut muscles of his neck and shoulders, and he leans back into the touch, gloves be damned. Kaz knows he has been a bit touch-starved, and this just proves it.

It has been months since he’d found anyone to be intimate with. Venom, at this moment, was relatively untouchable. His fellow soldiers, while doting on him with pure admiration, wouldn’t dare get this close to him. Not this time around and not with his baggage. His next best bet would be Ocelot. He couldn’t completely trust him, but at the same time, he was really the only one he could confide in. 

“You need to clear your mind, Miller.”

Ocelot’s voice was low and rough. Kaz could feel the reverberation against where Ocelot was leaning against him. Kaz closes his eyes, focusing on the soothing results of his massage. Those hands went to work, slowly working out the tense muscles between his shoulder blades. Kaz lets out a gasp when Ocelot’s knuckle hits a particularly rough spot. 

Kaz raises his hand to remove his sunglasses, placing them beside the headset on the table. He keeps his sensitive eyes closed, breathing out, doing his best to release as much tension as possible. He focuses on the touch, trying hard not to think of the man with his hands so close to his vulnerable neck.

This sort of thing wasn’t to be expected of a man like Ocelot, and it definitely wasn’t a job the Big Boss intended for him to do. He also couldn’t imagine that “placating Kaz” was one of Ocelot’s required jobs. Not with the kind of relationship they had; even in the beginning, when the trust was incredibly thin, but a lifeline all the same. 

A knuckle was buried deep into one of Kaz’s shoulder blades. He lets out a breath he wasn’t aware he was holding, keeping his eyes closed as the pain goes away. 

He hates to admit it, but he really misses simple human touch.

“Feeling better?”

Ocelot’s voice breaks the silence, drawing Kaz back from his thoughts. He mumbles a thick, “Yeah,” expecting the warm hands to draw back. What he didn’t expect was for those hands to slide forward from his shoulders towards his chest. 

“We still have some time. You pent up? Need a little help with… y’know?”

Ocelot’s right hand dips down between his pectorals, his body leaning into Kaz’s head and back almost uncomfortably. Fingers reach right above his navel before slowly dragging back up. The implications of his actions are rather obvious to anyone with half a brain. Kaz leans his head back, looking up at Ocelot standing over him. 

Ocelot’s hand did not go far down enough, he thinks as his hips involuntarily chase after it.

“At least you’re asking,” Kaz huffs out a laugh. 

“And your answer?” 

“Yeah.” A pause, “Yeah, sure.”

Hands that had been draped down the front of his shirt slowly, deliberately ran back over Kaz’s pecs. Fingertips dig into the muscle, massaging and pressing into the meat. It’s times like these he is glad he hasn’t lost too much muscle mass since his injuries. He won’t allow it. Fingers brush over Kaz’s nipples, his teeth biting into his lower lip at the sensation. Soon, Ocelot drags his gloved fingertips up over his shoulders before walking around to stand and face Kaz.

Ocelot’s left hand holds Kaz’s right shoulder steady as his right hand reaches down to start working at Kaz’s belt. There isn’t too much fanfare since they're working with time constraints. As soon as he is freed from his pants and briefs, he sighs again in relief. The soft leather of Ocelot’s gloves creates a unique tactile sensation.

Kaz lets out a guttural groan as he feels Ocelot’s hot breath over his half-hard erection. A gloved palm teases over the head of his cock in small swirling motions. His body must be eager for the touch as his hips seem to be involuntarily twitching in response. Ocelot’s left hand drags down his shoulder to cup under his pectoral and squeeze. Kaz’s breathing starts to become ragged.

He’d loathe to admit that Ocelot’s attention was causing his body’s reactions. But that was for future Kaz to worry about. The least he could do now was enjoy the handjob.

It doesn’t take long before he feels too warm in his uniform, his cock now full and heavy. He realizes he isn’t being manhandled by Ocelot’s left hand until he feels pressure to move his thighs further apart, the gloved thumb of his right hand running up under his shaft. His hips twitch in response to the touch before the head of his cock is suddenly engulfed in Ocelot’s mouth. Kaz feels the whine escape the back of his throat as his body’s instincts take over. 

Ocelot holds his thighs firmly apart as Kaz’s hips bucked lightly into his mouth. The feeling of both tongue and the leather glove starts to become too much to handle, and it’s not long before Kaz’s body crests into orgasm. He comes into the tight, warmth of Ocelot's mouth. The low hum of satisfaction reverberates through him as Ocelot waits for him to finish. 

Appreciative and intimate.

Kaz never knows what to make of moments like these. As he watches Ocelot lean back with a satisfied smile, he feels a mixture of disgust and arousal. His eyes follow Ocelot’s leather glove as he slowly drags it across his lower lip. Effectively, wiping away any spit or cum left behind.

“Better?”

Ocelot’s voice comes out a little hoarse. Kaz can’t help the little feeling of self-satisfaction that he was the one who caused it. He turns towards the clock on the wall, reminding himself that Venom is on his way back. Now wasn’t exactly the right time to fantasize how good Ocelot looks with his head between Kaz’s legs.

“Yeah, yeah. You’re good?”

There’s a slightly bitter laugh to come from Ocelot, but he responds as if that one small emotion never escaped its tightly held emotional captivity.

"Doesn't matter. He’ll be here to see you anyway.”

Ocelot stands up, hip cocked to the side, he’s noticeably half-hard and pointedly ignoring it as he straightens his clothing. Kaz looks down towards his lap. Tucking himself awkwardly back into his pants. He’s not ashamed by any means, but frustrated that he doesn’t exactly mind this. 

He really doesn’t mind getting sucked off by Ocelot and, in fact, likes it when he sees what it does to him. He likes that Ocelot bends over to zip him up and tighten his belt without much of a glance in his direction. 

Again, completely professional.

Kaz drew back, his eyes shaded from the harsh lights of the halogens above. This was neither the time or place for an angry make-out, but they were secluded in the coms room for now, waiting until they got confirmation from Pequod that the Boss had come home safe.

“Feeling better?”

Ocelot’s voice cut through their heavy breathing. Kaz scoffs, his anger still palpable, but nothing compared to what it had been moments before. 

“You know very well tha-"

Ocelot moves back in catching the rest of the sentence in his mouth as he’s pulling on the hair on the back of Kaz’s head. He responds with a groan and continues with his tough work of Ocelot’s mouth. It’s all a part of the job in the end; keep the second in command as content as he can while they both try to prop up Venom. 

The sharp taste of copper covers his tongue. A little more blood than he expected, but Kaz’s bright red lips were a sight. He brings his thumb to Kaz’s lips, dragging the leather across only to bring it back to his own mouth. He licks his thumb clean, pointedly staring at the sheen of moisture on Kaz’s lips.

“We should take this somewhere else if you want?”

Ocelot tips his head towards the door, hoping the implication comes across. Kaz, however,  shakes his head, looking hot and bothered by their short make out session.

“You know the Boss will be here any minute.”

“Didn’t say it had to be now.”

For once, Kaz looks like he’s actually thinking the proposition over. 

“Fucking tease.”

Izou will, however, sit in Ryoma’s room drinking, sometimes with or without him present. He will wait in that room until Ryoma returns to hold out a cup towards him as he passes through the door. Ryoma, after the third time this has happened, is only mildly surprised at the intrusion. Izou will join Ryoma at the cafeteria tables for meals, annoying Oryo that, <i>no</i>, he doesn’t have any hidden frogs and that he has <i>no idea</i> if the meal preparers have any available.

(She normally gets her frogs. Emiya and Tamamo Cat remember her unique preferences.)

Then there were the times Izou would be invited along on missions that Ryoma had also been recruited for. These missions were few and far between (if only because of the class differences between them), but he had to try to make it worth it to Master in the end.

It’s during one of these missions that he comes across Ryoma, bleeding out on the forest floor, the light of his eyes fading as Oryo fights as hard as she can. In a blink, he’s charging in without thinking, sword drawn, immediately ready to use his Noble Phantasm to end the fight as soon as possible. His swings cut into the beast’s flesh, his drive empowered by the roar of pain the monster bellows out. He delights himself in tearing into his prey, swinging his sword in precise movements, reveling in the blood washing over his body.

It is when he ends the fight with his Noble Phantasm, after the heat and feeling of blood raining down on him stops, is so satisfying that he feels a giddiness he can’t keep in check. He knows Oryo left to check on Ryoma the second she saw Izou take over. Out of the corner of his eye, he sees their Master hovering over Ryoma, looking relieved.

The urge to kill isn’t something that’s so easily abated; he kicks at the fading body in front of him, hoping it would have put up more of a fight. Oryo and Ryoma must have done a good amount of damage before he showed up. 

Izou turns back to see Ryoma sitting there as if nothing had happened, comforting Oryo, but his focus is dead-set on him. Izou smiles brightly, the feeling of pride welling in his heart. 

Ryoma’s reaction reflects that pride. It’s not every day when Ryoma looks at Izou like he‘s hung the moon. Stepping away from the mess and towards Ryoma, Izou sheaths his sword with a sharp clank of finality. He tries not to make <i>too</i> much of a show, but Izou is feeling incredibly cheeky at the moment.

“Izou-san.”

Ryoma's voice is deep, scratchy, but to Izou’s relief, he looks as good as he had before the fight. There’s a tiny part deep inside where he feels his heart soar, proud that he was able to kill the monster that took Ryoma down. He’s not going to think about Ryoma’s lifeless body covered in his own blood on the ground. He’s <i>definitely not</i> going to think about Oryo being too weak to fight properly. Nothing had damaged Ryoma’s spirit core, and that’s what matters. 

Their Master, satisfied with Ryoma’s recovery, has already gone ahead. Oddly enough, Oryo follows the group ahead after Ryoma pulls her close to whisper something to her, leaving him and Izou behind. 

Ryoma stands and walks a bit shakily over towards Izou, acting like he hadn’t just been dying on the forest floor moments ago; an oh-so-familiar smile graces his face. His body involuntarily freezes up when Ryoma, gently, assuredly, takes Izou’s bloody hand in his own. He brings it up to his cheek, warmth under Izou’s sticky fingers. Ryoma closes his eyes for just a moment, nuzzling his hand, ignorant of the blood half-flaking, half-smearing over Ryoma’s cheek like morbid facepaint.

Izou is used to the smell and consistency of blood, wearing it like a badge of pride due to his past jobs. He notes how Ryoma, in his white suit, looks like a wreck outside of the blood he’s smearing on his face. Izou finds this to be a little metaphorical, considering how this matches their lives. Ryoma may not have handled the “dirty”  missions back then, but he had his own plans that he executed without mercy after leaving the Kinno-to. 

The blood smears from Ryoma’s cheek; Izou’s thumb lightly trails his face to touch his lips. Ryoma’s smile turns into a smug grin, turning his face just enough to pull Izou’s thumb into his mouth. 

Izou chokes on a gasp in surprise, unsure of what he’s seeing in front of him. When was the last time they had teased and flirted after a fight? And when had Ryoma gotten into this kind of thing? Oh, sure, there were a few heated kisses in the dojo under the cover of night when they were younger and more hot-blooded. Those fumblings didn’t matter here and now in Chaldea, where there was some kind of unspoken rule between them. An arm thrown around his neck or Ryoma leaning his head against Izou’s shoulder was as intimate as they’d get. 

This was something else.

Ryoma must have come to some sort of internal decision. He is acting how they had in their youth together; full body contact with a closeness Izou had eventually become comfortable with over time. This is compounded by Ryoma’s praise and confidence in him… It hits Izou that this may be what Ryoma has wanted since their reunion.

If that’s the case, it’s not as surprising as it would have been when Ryoma kept eye contact while rolling his tongue enticingly over Izou’s thumb. The wetness of his mouth engulfs Izou’s thumbnail and skin, causing his face to flush from a bright pink to red. Ryoma eventually lets his thumb go slowly and runs his tongue over his lips with a satisfied hum.

It takes him a moment to understand what is happening, but once Izou’s brain catches up, he knows he can use Ryoma's closeness to his own benefit. It’s not fair how Ryoma can make him feel things to such extremes; incredibly angry for one moment and then extremely aroused the next. It’s when Ryoma moves in to wrap his other arm around Izou’s back to pull him close, whispering into Izou’s ear about going to the baths later. This is where Izou’s intrusive thoughts take a backseat, and instead, he just goes with the flow. Ryoma’s mouth brushes against the locks of hair, tickling Izou’s ear. It's intimate enough for Izou to understand that this was a little more than mere flirting. 

Izou shifts in Ryoma’s arms, going for the kiss he craves. He pulls Ryoma's bottom lip with his teeth, only to use Ryoma’s appreciative sigh as an opening to have a proper kiss. It’s hot, but way too short. Izou is frustrated when they part, knowing that this is likely the best way to convey his feelings. 

Ryoma is about to say something when Oryo interrupts them. Because <i>of course</i> she does. She nonchalantly floats in between the two of them, physically pushing them apart with a huff of satisfaction. She looks put off, obviously knowing what the two of them have done together, but not doing anything about it. 

Izou doesn’t want to irritate her any more than his mere presence normally does, but he’s a little annoyed at the fact that she is actively keeping them apart. She leans into his space as much as she’s leaning into Ryoma’s, connecting the two. Izou can feel the light brush of Ryoma’s hand against his own; fingers automatically linking together as they all make their way back to Master. 

—-

Being Heroic Spirits, there is technically no need for a bath. That doesn’t mean there aren’t baths available to them. The baths are, in fact, incredibly popular. Here and now, with dirt and blood still covering him, Izou wanted that bath. 

There’s nothing more satisfying than engulfing oneself in hot water set to the perfect temperature at the end of the day. This was particularly true after a mission just like the one he had just completed. He had scrubbed the blood and dirt from his messy hair, cleaned the grime from under his nail, and was now leaning back into the pool with a sigh of satisfaction. The mission was completed without any further hiccups, and his soak was well earned. 

Across the water, Izou sneaks glances at Ryoma. Despite the damage to his person, Ryoma was able to wash up fairly quickly and was already resting in the bath with his eyes closed. His hair was half floating loosely on top of the water, while the extra strands stuck to his skin. Ryoma cracks an eye open, smiling contentedly while watching Izou struggle with himself.

Izou curses under his breath, sinking into the water until it covers his body up to his chin. His hair is tied up messily, loose strands sticking to his neck and back. He closes his own eyes and tries to clear his mind of what is to come.

The trio had stayed physically close since Ryoma’s recovery until after the mission. Oryou didn't tease Izou as much, smirking with a knowing smile each time she looked at him. Izou figured she knew something was going on, but he could feel the slight heat of embarrassment turn his cheeks and ears red. She flicks his reddened ear playfully before turning her focus back to Ryoma. 

Izou’s mind drifts, his senses filled with the sound of water gently flowing. It’s peaceful for once. And it’s not until towards the end of their bath when, like a predator with prey, Ryoma glides over to where Izou’s sitting to break that peace. Despite all of the situations he could get himself into, Ryoma’s presence can be like a balm to Izou’s nerves. Ryoma’s smile reassures him that things are going to be fine (whether or not things actually are). It’s that same smile that says to trust in him, just relax, and let him take care of Izou for a little bit.

“Ryoma…”

Izou mutters low and gravely under his breath when he hears Ryoma glide close. He cracks an eye open to look at the welcomed intruder. 

The gentle smile on Ryoma's face doesn’t waver. He sighs Izou’s name affectionately as he leans in to rest his head against Izou’s. The extra warmth from body heat is anything but comfortable, but Izou allows it. They stay like that for a minute before Izou slowly takes Ryoma’s hand under the water. Ryoma turns his head to kiss Izou’s cheek. It’s a gentle press of his lips following a trail towards his neck. The sudden feeling of Ryoma’s tongue slowly licking the salty tang of onsen water and sweat from under his jawline causes him to huff a contented sigh before coming to his senses.

Izou, suddenly realizing where they were, chokes in embarrassment. He’s about to yell at Ryoma, but is interrupted when a couple of other servants enter. Instead, he grabs Ryoma’s hand and pulls him from the bath behind him, rushing to change their clothing before making their way out. It’s a short walk to Izou’s room, but the wait is agonizing. As soon as they’re inside and the door is closed, Ryoma is pushed against the wall as Izou initiates a purposeful, deep kiss.

Izou pushes in with tongue and teeth. He’s pent up, frustrated, and wants Ryoma to feel it. He boxes Ryoma between his arms, pushing him against the wall with his body. Izou’s mouth is busy keeping Ryoma satisfied. It was important to let him know that,<i> no</i>, he couldn't just throw away his life like that and,<i> yes</i>, he’d be the one to come to his aid if it came to it. Ryoma’s hand comes to hold the side of Izou’s face, slowly using his own tongue to reciprocate the kiss. Izou lets out a little whine in the back of his throat. 

With a small bite to Izou’s bottom lip, Ryoma moves away just enough to snuggle into the crook of Izou’s neck. He murmurs gentle words against Izou’s skin; apologies and praise. They whisper through Izou’s mind. Is this enough to make up for everything? No, but Ryoma is forgiven for now. Izou can’t help but want to believe his words. Deep down inside the cockle of his heart, he wants to believe Ryoma cares.

Izou brings a hand over to push a little pressure on the back of Ryoma's head. He’s telling Ryoma to be a little rougher and mark him. Ryoma complies, small bites start at the juncture of Izou’s neck and shoulder blade, leading back up to just under his ear. Izou’s voice rumbles in his throat, enjoying the sensation. Ryoma, taking his time watching Izou’s reactions, soothes his skin with his tongue after a sharp bite. 

“I can’t say, ‘I promise I won’t leave you.’” Ryoma murmurs. His lips brush against the sensitive skin of Izou’s inner ear. “Just like you can’t promise you won’t leave me.” 

Despite everything, Izou knows he’s right. He <i>hates</i> that he’s right. They’d grown into two vastly different men within the latter half of their lives. Events ended up pulling them apart. This, of course, didn’t mean they couldn’t be together again. If anything, the change and time away created an appreciation for what they had become before dying. 

Instead of answering, Izou goes to take Ryoma’s face between his two hands and kisses him. Slowly, deeply until they’ve split apart and are both gasping for air. Ryoma’s face was flushed pink, surprised but not disgusted. Izou couldn't help but want to push him down into the mattress.

“Give a guy a warning at least, Ryoma. I can only tolerate so much sap in one day.” 

Ryoma laughs, smiling gently, pulling Izou in for a tight hug. Izou frustratingly allows this, shaking off Ryoma a minute later, pulling away enough to tug him towards the bed. 

They both sit on the edge together, the situation only a little awkward until Ryoma grabs Izou’s hand and starts kissing the ends of each finger. It’s not enough. Izou pushes Ryoma back onto the mattress, his leg swinging over his hips to straddle him. He’s half hard at this point, not thinking too much about how aroused Ryoma might be as well. Instead, he leans over Ryoma and kisses the side of his neck. He wants to leave his own mark, no matter how temporary it will be. 

The warm, growling sigh of “Izou-san” coming from his partner is enough to move Izou’s attention back to Ryoma’s mouth. Slow, wet kisses develop into something more raw and biting. He tries to put as many emotions into his kissing as possible; he nips at the bottom of Ryoma’s lip, tasting the coppery flavor of blood on his tongue. Ryoma gasps into his mouth, fingers digging into the clothing covering Izou’s back.

It’s suddenly too warm; Izou separates from Ryoma, scooting back to start taking off his cloak and robes. He notes Ryoma staring at him as he’s stripping out of his outerwear with a flushed, dreamy look upon his face. Izou is in the midst of untying his obi when he feels Ryoma's hands start running up his sides to his chest. He shivers as Ryoma’s fingers dip underneath the cloth, slowly roaming over Izou’s torso.

Izou hums with approval as Ryoma’s gloved hands dig into the meat of his pectorals just a little more. His chest isn’t that sensitive, but the different sensations were arousing. With the outer layers of his clothing removed, he allows Ryoma to continue roaming his hands over his upper body. 

“You were always so impressive, Izou-san.”

Ryoma’s fingers dig into the muscle of Izou’s chest before shifting to focus on his nipples. The texture of Ryoma’s gloves draws a gasp from him as thumbs roll over the hard nubs. Izou lets out a long exhale. Simple touch didn’t do too much for him, but teasing like this? It was a little unfair how aroused it was making him. He can feel the ache in his groin and wishes Ryoma would do something about that, too. He can feel the reaction he’s causing Ryoma under him and, in a bit of revenge, shifts his thigh enough to grind down and focus on the sudden moan Ryoma gasps out.

“Take this shit off, Ryoma.” 

Izou’s fingers dig into the fabric of Ryoma’s jacket and work shirt, tugging it out of his waistband as he grinds down again.

Ryoma, flustered and aroused, asks, “The gloves, too?”

Leaning forward, Izou goes in for another biting kiss; his hips buck again, eating Ryoma’s moan of approval. He moves his hands and catches Ryoma’s within his own, fingers poking under the cuff to slowly pull them up. Ryoma allows Izou to pull them off and then link their fingers together. 

This intimacy is different when you know the person you’re with. Sure, they may have had a few fumbles during their teenage years while working out aggression and hormones, but as adults, their experiences have changed the way they see each other. In Izou’s view, Ryoma wants to chase nostalgia; to return to the relationship they once had, while, contrarily, moving forward without him. To Ryoma, Izou needs to feel appreciated, listened to, and, in a sense, cared for. It came from a need to keep Izou from destroying himself again, like he did at the end of his lifetime. 

It’s then, with a strength Izou wasn’t expecting, that Ryoma flips them over. He takes advantage of Izou’s surprise by quickly pulling off his coat, dress shirt, and hat. He leans over Izou, biting his ear, whispering heated words into Izou’s ear. Izou whines as he lets himself be overcome by the new position. He pulls Ryoma closer and tries to push his body into him with a roll of his hips. 

“Izou-san,” Ryoma’s teeth knead Izou’s into the meat of his right earlobe. He’s trying to get Izou to squirm as much as possible. “I want you to bury yourself in me.” He whispers hotly into Izou’s ear, grinning at Izou’s reaction. “You’re here with me, and I don’t want to let you go.”

“What the hell are you saying?”

Izou’s hand goes to grip the back of Ryoma’s head, holding him in place. He sighs when he feels Ryoma’s mouth work its way to his neck, his body shivering with each nipping bite and determined touch. He moves to wrap his right leg around Ryoma’s waist as well.

There’s a low growl in the back of Ryoma's throat, goading him on. Izou grins, digging his fingers into Ryoma's back enough to make fingernail marks. He bucks his hips again, reveling in the gasp of hot air that escapes from between Ryoma’s lips. Izou can feel the syllables of his name being spoken into his neck, causing him to respond with another buck of his hips. 

Ryoma’s hands are hot and sweaty, sliding in between their bodies to tuck under the cloth enclosing Izou’s cock. He whines at the gentleness of his fingers running over his erection; suddenly gasping into Ryoma’s mouth when he feels Ryoma's thumb circle the head, adding just the right amount of pressure to drive him wild. 

Izou can’t help but respond to the focus on his dick; his face is flushed red, and he can’t help the noises coming from the back of his throat. He brings his own hand in between the two of them and starts running his nails over the front of Ryoma’s clothed erection. Ryoma breaks Izou’s kiss with a high-pitched cry into Izou’s mouth before his lips pull him back..

When Izou’s fingers deftly unbutton his pants and run along the hot, soft skin of Ryoma’s cock, Ryoma bites down into Izou’s bottom lip. It’s enough for Izou to taste blood, but not enough to stop him from adjusting his hold. His fingers press into sensitive skin to try different sensations. Ryoma rests his forehead against Izou’s own, eyes serious and face red, and he starts whispering soft words of praise in between kisses. Izou meets his gaze, watching Ryoma's reactions with a wonder that he’d only admit to his stubborn self.

It’s when Ryoma takes what precum has already leaked into his hand and spreads it over the head of Izou’s cock that Izou closes his eyes. He’s getting close, and he can hear Ryoma tell him to look at him, mouthing the words into his lips. Izou’s eyes slowly open, like in a dream, as he looks into Ryoma’s. He starts mimicking the movement Ryoma makes, and he leans in, kissing him once more.

It doesn’t take much longer for Ryoma to gasp and orgasm over his hand onto their stomachs. He leans in to kiss Izou, breathing heavily, watching as Izou’s body stiffens before he groans out his release. Ryoma continues kissing to slow him down, their dirty hands mingling in between themselves. It’s gross as hell, but Izou can’t exactly find the energy to care at the moment.

“Izou-san.”

He isn’t at all surprised that Ryoma breaks the verbal silence, but doesn’t give him the satisfaction of an answer. Not when he moves in to kiss Ryoma, his teeth dragging against his lips, making them bright red. Ryoma was a fucking sight when his hair was a mess and his body flushed post-orgasm. 

“Mmm, Izou-san. Wait—“

Izou ignores him, pulling him into another kiss, but with less teeth and more tongue. Ryoma bites back, literally, his tired eyes laughing at Izou’s anger.

“What the hell!?”

“Sorry, just give me a minute.” 

The minute was Ryoma fully stripping off his underwear and grabbing a cloth. They could just will it all away, but there’s a weird intimacy in this. Izou growls a bit under his breath as he goes to take off the rest of his clothing. Watching as Ryoma cleans himself off with tissues, then takes some for himself. 

“Ok, there. Better, right?”

“Yeah, fine. Oryo still busy?”

“Izou-san…”

“I’m only askin’ cause we can still fuck.”

It’s like an out-of-body experience. One where Ryoma watches as the claw of the shadow monster in front of him takes a swipe at his torso. He’s too close. At least three digits rip through his clothing and into his skin. He flinches as he feels the sharp claws tearing into his body, cutting through meat and bone, causing a large splash of blood to spray towards his attacker.

Ryoma can hear Oryou yell in anger, already in the middle of attacking. She can keep the creature at bay, but there’s only so much energy Ryoma will have left to keep her going. She’s transformed now, trying to use her anger to fuel her strength. Her own serpent-like body rages into the monster, making headway, but not enough to completely defeat it.

Ryoma’s vision becomes blurry. He finds himself unable to say anything, but instead gurgling air through what he could only assume is his blood. The creature must have ripped his throat out along with part of his collarbone and chest. The pain is excruciating. He tries to lie still to avoid aggravating the wounds. He can hear the frustration in Oryou’s voice. As he assumed, she’s unable to finish the monster off on her own; Ryoma feels especially guilty that she is going through this because of him.

An angry yell comes from the trees past Ryoma’s head. He realizes someone has, thankfully, found them. Ryoma can hear footsteps speeding past him, but can’t make out the voice. He’s finding it hard to keep his eyes open at this rate. At least Oryou has help now.

In seconds, a pained roar and maniacal laughter fill the air. His hazy vision can barely make out the wet spattering rain of the monster's blood falling from the sky. It’s then he hears the sharp exclamation of his master’s voice next to him before he feels the effects of the healing spell flow through his body.

That was an extremely close call.

Oryou immediately rushes to him, now back into her normal form, checking every inch over for the injuries he had only moments before. He wraps his arms around her in a tight hug, not quite ready to trust his voice yet. Luckily, his master smiles back at him reassuringly. The Command Spell did its job perfectly, and, other than the blood and the rips in his clothing, no one would have been able to tell he had been injured.

“You were a great help, Oryou-san. Thank you.”

He loves her and knows it’s situations like this where he feels like he has no control. That he would eventually let her down if he failed. He would and has tried to protect her as best he could. With a tight squeeze, he loosens his hold on her to stand back up.

It’s then he remembers his savior. The yell, the rush to his aid, the rain of blood… There are only a few people who’d go after a monster like that and it’s always a surprise when it’s who he suspects.

It always seems to be Izou.

He is still standing there, breathing heavily, staring at the corpse of the monster as it starts to fade away into dust. He is covered in blood and gore, a red badge of courage that coats him from head to toe. He doesn’t turn to face Ryoma yet, but instead steps forward to kick at the body, only for it to dissipate under the slight pressure of his foot.

It’s then, satisfied with his triumph, that Izou turns to check Ryoma. And it’s his reaction that causes Ryoma‘s heart to stop. Izou is grinning from ear to ear, covered in red, looking the happiest he has been in a long time.

Ryoma can feel that joy permeate into him. So he smiles back, glad he had caused such a reaction in his old friend.

It’s also not what he really wants to do.

He would rather run to Izou, push him to the ground, and kiss him until they're both gasping for air. He wants to hold him down in the dirt and mark him up with his teeth. He wants to take Izou’s hand and bury it inside his repaired wounds just to show how close he was to dying. He knows it’s not a logical reaction, but it’s a yearning inside himself to do his damndest to convey his thoughts and feelings to Izou.

Oryou can sense the change in his demeanor. Her arms slide over his shoulders to pull him closer to her. He breathes out, chuckling to himself, the action calming him down like a balm. He allows for the darker thoughts to leave his mind, but Ryoma makes sure not to break eye contact with Izou.

Izou’s smile morphs into a smirk as if to say, “Who’s saving who now?” It’s cocky and ridiculous, but he wouldn’t expect Izou to act any other way.

With a nod, Ryoma turns towards their Master as their motley group decides to move forward.

Oryou, grumbles something under her breath as she floats forward and leans on their Master. He watches as the group moves on. Ryoma hangs back, making sure to get Izou’s attention as he passes by to follow their group.

“Izou-san.”

The name coming from Ryoma’s lips is hesitant and thick on his tongue. It does the trick, stopping Izou and catching his full attention.

Facing Izou, Ryoma brings one of his bloody, gloved hands to smear some of the blood covering Izou’s cheek. Izou follows his hand, surprised at the touch, but watches closely as Ryoma brings that bloody thumb to his tongue.

The taste is bitter, metallic, and thick on his tongue.

It’s disgusting.

Izou’s reaction is not.

Izou stands there mesmerized. They never really played this game before. It’s as if he wasn’t quite sure what he was seeing. Ryoma watches him swallow, taking in his reaction. Thankfully, he does not seem to be disgusted with his actions.

Instead, Izou raises his blood-covered hand to brush his thumb to the center of Ryoma’s bottom lip. It’s a light touch, but the pressure builds as he slowly slides it inside of Ryoma’s mouth. Izou’s hands are just as disgusting as the blood covering his body, but Ryoma, eyes inviting the action, allows the intrusion.

It’s like they are seeing each other for the first time. Ryoma focuses on Izou’s facial reactions as he slowly laves the skin at the tip of his thumb. He takes the digit deeper as he licks from the knuckle to the top of Izou’s nail, rolling his tongue in between the creases of skin and nail. He can barely tell, but he imagines that Izou’s face is flushed a deep red from the weird eroticism of it all. He continues the same motion a couple of times until he realizes Izou’s breathing is getting a little ragged. With a final pass of his tongue and a scrape from his bottom teeth, Ryoma releases him with a slow, indulgent lick.

There’s a slight whine in the back of Izou’s throat as if being freed had physically harmed him in some way. The high-pitched noise reminds Ryoma of a needy puppy. A sly smile spreads across his face as he leans into Izou’s personal space, his now bloody lips touch Izou’s bloody cheek in a firm kiss. He stays there, just to whisper in his ear, “We should take a bath when we get back. Are you up for it, Izou-san?”

“Y-Yeah?”

Izou’s voice is a little raw, slightly confused, but the heated look he had been giving him before has now turned into something Ryoma recognizes. That hot gaze of determination is reflected in his eyes, taking on the “challenge” that Ryoma has given. They have their mission to finish, and it was only a matter of time before their Master (and Oryou) would come looking for them. Ryoma closes in to nuzzle into Izou’s side, the blood, now slowly coagulating into a sticky dry layer on Izou’s skin, smudges and dusts onto Ryoma’s head.

Before Ryoma steps back, Izou’s arm, which is wrapped around him, pulls him closer. That arm strength he knew Izou possessed from fighting with his sword holds him close. However, it’s a complete surprise when Izou tilts his head to catch Ryoma’s attention. Izou leans in to drag his tongue across Ryoma’s lips, only to bring them together into a kiss over his mouth. Ryoma can feel his teeth against his lips, watching as Izou’s eyes drift close, breathing him in as he sighs into the kiss.

It's only a minute, but it feels like a lifetime when Izou steps back, loosening his hold on Ryoma’s waist.

It looks like Izou is about to say something when a dark, shadowy presence comes from behind him. Ryoma, breathless, smiles giddily, not necessarily nervous at being caught in Izou’s arms, but to keep Oryou at bay.

“Oi, Izou, what do you think you’re doing?”

Izou freezes before hastily letting go of Ryoma. He doesn’t dare turn around, knowing that Oryou would take any sort of reaction as some kind of guilt. Ryoma, however, turns Izou around to face Oryou and wraps his arm back around his waist.

“We were just on our way back to you and Master, Oryou-san.”

Her beautiful eyes narrow sceptically. She doesn’t buy it. Instead of protesting, she physically squeezes herself in between Izou and Ryoma, causing Izou’s hold to fall away. Satisfied with the space between them, Oryou floats as they begin to walk. Ryoma keeps her busy as he sneakily moves to take Izou’s hand in his.

To a young Izou, there is nothing more refreshing than cool summer waters rolling over sticky, hot skin. It’s something he has come to appreciate, kicking his feet in the cool water without splashing and humming while he waits. He is holding his crude fishing pole in his hands, keeping a keen eye on the surface of the water to be ready for his next big catch. It’s not long until he finally feels a tug and jumps to his feet, attempting to reel in the line. He hopes for a hook, but groans when he pulls and finds his catch has escaped. Grumbling, he replaces the mushed-up grains of rice on the fishing hook before casting it back into the water.

He sits back down with a huff, his bare feet going back into the water with a “thunk” to swish against his skin and filter between his toes. It’s a calm environment with the wind blowing through the tall grass and the water flowing under him; Izou sighs as he watches the movement below.

In the distance, he can hear the sound of the drying grass stalks crackling under the weight of something. Izou turns to look behind him, a smile growing on his face. This commotion could only mean one thing: the person he’s been waiting all morning for has finally shown up.

The tall grass splits open with a white gloved hand, brushing aside the stalks to make a path. This hand is all wrong; it’s much too high and too big to be a child’s. A tall man comes through, almost tripping on the ground in front of him. He’s dressed in foreign clothes, the white fabric a stark contrast to the fading green and drying browns of the grass. The man smiles warmly at him, a hand going to the brim of his hat and tipping it down in some sort of greeting.

“Hello, Izou-san.”

The voice is mellow and oh-so familiar. Izou has no idea who this man could be, but they know him. His hands tighten on the fishing pole; he wants to be prepared just in case anything were to go awry.

“Hello.”

Izou sticks with being polite for now. The man doesn’t look foreign, and the smile he gives in response to his greeting is almost soothing. He looks just like-

“R’you related to Ryo- Sakamoto?”

The man’s face lights up. He’s smiling excitedly as he answers Izou, tipping off his hat to hold in his hand.

“I knew you’d be able to tell!”

Izou stares at the man. He’d never heard of a relative like this in Ryoma’s family. No one had mentioned it around him. And why would this man come alone and not with Ryoma?

“Well, why’re you here? Where is he? We’re supposed ta go fishin.’”

”Ah, well, he…he’s running a little late. I wanted to let you know he was on his way.”

Izou didn’t trust him. Not when the man was giving him a smile that was a lie. It was nothing like the genuine smile he had in surprise earlier. He was hiding something, and it had to do with Ryoma.

The man was just opening his mouth to say something when another person came bursting from the brush. This one, to Izou’s surprise, was floating. This woman with long black hair and what looked to be a black yukata with a pattern of dark magenta flowers. The woman, not even bothering to see Izou, turns to the man with a pout.

“Ryoma! Why’d you leave?”

Izou stares at the man in front of him, his eyes narrowing, trying to assess every detail. He could be Ryoma with his cool eyes and laid-back demeanor. There’s a smile he shares with the woman that placates as much as it reassures. Something that calls out “Ryoma” to him.

“Ah, Oryo-san…”

Izou gawks at the man in front of him. “Ryoma?! How’d ya get so tall? Who’s that? Why’re ya so late?”

The person Izou assumes is Ryoma laughs as the woman rolls her eyes. It’s then that Izou notices she’s floating through the tall grass. He’s about to excitedly ask about that, but is stopped when the woman, Oryo?, floats into his personal space.

“You’re just as frustrating as a kid, namekuji, too many questions.”

Izou frowns, about to retort when he’s interrupted again by the floating woman.

“You’re sleeping, Izou. Wake up.”

She’s suddenly in his face, flicking her pointer finger in between Izou’s eyes. He jolts up in bed with a yelp, nearly headbutting Oryo in the process.

As his eyes adjust to the dim light in his room, the first thing Izou can recognize is Ryoma chiding Oryo (what little good that’ll do), and then he feels the leftover ache between his eyes. Then he nearly falls over when his world suddenly tips over with him.

He then remembers the night before: a regular party in Chaldea with food and plenty of booze. He remembers being goaded into drinking more by Takasugi, walking down the hall only to throw up, he then remembers being forced to drink water by an amorphous blob of white and midnight blue, and then his memories end with nothing until this morning.

“How’re you feeling this morning, Izou-san?”

Izou runs a hand over his face, the ache of last night suddenly overtaking him. He’s not sure how Takasugi hadn't died of alcohol poisoning in life.

“Like shit.”

Ryoma chuckles a little, holding out a bottle of water.

“Takasugi really outdoes himself. Don’t take it to heart.”

Izou grabs the bottle, pops the cap off, and starts downing the water. He lets out a loud gasp for air when he finishes.

He might have suddenly remembered who that blob was last night…

“What’re you doin’ here anyway?”

Ryoma smiles. Izou notices how he’s sitting by the bed, the chair facing the mattress.

“Just keeping an eye out.”

“You better be grateful!” Oryo chimes in, “Ryoma didn’t want you to drown in your own vomit overnight. He’s too nice to you.”

“Oryo-san, that’s not quite… I mean that might be part of it.” With a deep sigh, Ryoma adds, “You might’ve been a bit emotional last night.”

Izou could feel his face heat up in embarrassment. Who knows what the hell he ended up blabbering about! He could barely remember passing out.

“Ah- don’t worry! It’s not like you said anything personal away! I just wanted to make sure you got to bed…”

Ryoma trails off, seemingly thinking over his words.

“You really want to go fishing again?”

Izou’s world freezes.

“What?”

“You mentioned fishing while you were asleep. Were you dreaming about that old river?”

There’s a pause. Izou isn’t sure if he wants to talk about this right now. Their shared childhood memories always left him feeling raw emotionally. He couldn’t go back to those days, no matter how realistically the simulator could recreate it.

The problem was, he knew, at least subconsciously, he wanted to remember those times.

“Mm.”

“Ryoma, let’s get some frogs while we fish.”

Oryo’s voice suddenly comes from behind Izou and nearly causes him to jump out of bed. He looks up at her no-nonsense gaze and is surprised when he sees a small smirk as she glances down at him. She floats over to Ryoma, turning so they both look expectantly towards Izou.

“What? Now?”

“Come on, Izou-san. May as well make some good memories while we can. I’ll ask the kitchen for watermelon. It’ll be a nice snack as we’re waiting.”

Ryoma comes towards Izou, each hand taking one of his wrists to pull him out of bed.

“There better be a big fat frog there, namekuji.”

Oryo stares at Izou, but turns to Ryoma after he lets go of his wrists. The two of them start making their way towards the exit.

“I don’t recall there being frogs there, Oryo-san.”

“I’m sure there’ll be frogs there. If not, it’ll be Izou’s fault.”

As the vestiges of sleep start to slip from his senses, Izou’s eyes are met with a blurry picture of a dim gray room as his body pulls him from sleep. He yawns, knowing, as a servant, he doesn’t need sleep. It’s more of the comfort and habit of enjoying a drink and eating as any living human would. He’s not too reliant on the habit, but it does make him feel normal. He knows his body is his Master’s to use as they wish. He just wants to make sure he can make the most of his time back here. 

He never likes thinking about those final years too much. The pain of betrayal, the only reason anyone wanted to interact with him was because of his sword skills, then he’s also got his not-so-stellar personality… Well, then that’s fair enough. He can admit he wasn’t the easiest person to get along with. Those last years of his life were a dark reminder of how much he had failed and let everyone down. 

He sighs, blinking slowly at the ceiling. He was alone on that day, the clear blue sky over his head. 

Now, under the protection of Chaldea, he knows he’s not alone. His Master, the kid servants, even Sousuke have seeked him out to fight, play or rest. He felt fortunate his time was being productive in its own way. People seem to want to be in his presence. It was surreal.

On other days, he’d get in one of his irrationally irritable moods. Always on edge, always just a little over sensitive when it came to comments about his abilities or being labeled a traitor. He would end up locked in his room, drinking until he threw up or passed out; sometimes both. He was surprised that he hadn’t accidentally “killed” himself doing that. Drowning in his own puke because he felt sorry for himself.

Loneliness, that’s what he knew he was plagued with despite the attention. It’s at his lows or at least his most volatile when Ryoma seeks him out. He’d sit right next to Izou and offer to share a bottle of sake, all the while listening to Izou’s raging. He’s likely the one keeping Izou from choking on his own bile when completely shitfaced.

There were also those not-so-rare-anymore occasions where Izou would go looking for Ryoma. Something would spark in Sakamoto’s eyes when he saw the angry fluster on Izou’s face as Oryo poked and teased. There was no doubt that there was at least some kind of relationship between them. Not just a friendship, but not any sort of deep romantic relationship either. Izou, even after everything, still believes in Ryoma to a point. He cares in his own emotionally stunted way and, in turn, this must be enough for Ryoma. 

Bringing his thoughts back to his current situation, he feels like he should care more than he does, with Ryoma curled up next to him with his head tucked under Izou’s chin and cheek. It’s too comfortable, even with Oryo snuggled in on Ryoma’s other side. They can barely fit together on one of these beds, but they make it work.

“Stop thinking so much and go to sleep, namekuji.”

Oryo’s voice cuts through the air. Her voice muffled under the cloth draped over Ryoma’s back. Ryoma flinches and scoots closer towards Izou, snuggling just a little more. That warm arm thrown over his ribs feels all the more closer. Izou doesn’t hear the murmurs from Ryoma, but feels them. A low, comforting rumble from the body cuddling up to him.

He parks his bike at a nearby parking lot when he finds what he's looking for. The red lights turn everything pink with their glow. The crowds of people lining the streets and gambling stalls are ignored as Yoshiki makes his way nonchalantly further into former rival territory. He can tell eyes are on him, that some of the older Daruma Ikka members know what he looks like. No one stops him and he doesn’t do anything to specifically draw their attention towards him. So he casually walks through the crowd making his way further into their territory.

He only had one thing on his mind all evening and he was determined to find it.

It’s when he makes it to the coveted spot that he stops and speaks to anyone. Two of Daruma’s higher-ranked members guard the door, arms crossed with their faces set in a scowl. They would seem intimidating to the average visitor, but to Yoshiki, they were only in his way.

“Whaddya think you’re doin’?”

The guy on the right calls out to him. Trying to size him up. The guy on the left, while not outright looking familiar, did seem to recognize him.

“Dude, that’s Murayama from Oya Kou Kou.”

The man on the right scoffs at the name Oya.

“As if a buncha school kids got anything on us.”

Yoshiki lets the jab slide. He’s in a good mood, in Daruma territory and this guy looks new. His buddy seems to know that was the wrong thing to say and smacks him on the back of the head.

“Does the boss know you’re here?”

The smart one on the left tries to keep his partner quiet and Yoshiki is in really too much of a good mood to throw a fuss.

“I wanted to surprise Hyuga-chan. I mean, I can warm up with you two, but I was hoping to… well, you know.”

The guy on the left glances back at the door and with an attitude that bespoke how much he didn’t want to do it, he allows Yoshiki through. His partner looks like he’s about to protest, but doesn’t move either.

Giddy with excitement and adrenaline, Yoshiki hops on his feet a couple of times, loosening up before pushing the door aside. He walks into the room with all the confidence of someone who was meant to be here.

“Hyuga-chan~ it’s been a while!”

Hyuga Norihisa barely moves an inch from his spot lounging on his worn tatami cushions. His eagle-eyed focus is centered on Yoshiki, which sends a thrill through him. Facing off against this man was fun, thrilling even. He can sense Hyuga knows why he’s here with the minute ways in which he reacts to Yoshiki’s presence. He especially loves seeing the immediate switch in Hyuga’s eyes going from utter boredom to eagerness in a matter of seconds.

“Lost another job?”

A smile angles itself lopsidedly onto Hyuga’s face; smug satisfaction that he got one up on the former king of Oya. Yoshiki groans a little, shaking his head. It’s unfair how easily word gets around. On the other hand, he’s a little touched that Hyuga would even be interested in hearing the goings on in his everyday life.

“That was three weeks ago now!”

Yoshiki walks casually across the room towards where Hyuga was lounging. “I think I’ve finally found one that sticks.”

Hyuga shifts from his position on the floor to sitting hunched over with his legs crossed. How could he look so boneless while Yoshiki felt as tight as a highwire? It was unfair. Hyuga either is unaware or chooses to ignore his intent. It’s almost annoying that he’d purposefully be ignored like this. This calm front that Hyuga put up; Yoshiki wants to break it.

The burst of energy he’s been trying to keep tapped down starts bursting forth. He tries to stay still as he watches the sake cup touch Hyuga’s lips. They don’t break eye contact and it’s driving him insane.

“And here I thought you’d come to ask me for something.”

“A job?”

Hyuga snickers, it’s as close as he’s going to get to full-out laughter. He was amused at Yoshiki’s reply the very least. After kicking back and finishing off the cup in hand, Hyuga puts the cup on the table and gives Yoshiki a look.

“Anything.”

That burst of energy pushes him forward, Yoshiki takes that answer as an excuse to move in closer, stopping at the steps leading to the rouka and ima where Hyuga has set himself up within the confines of his territory. He bounces down to a squat purposefully keeping his eyes trained on Hyuga. He doesn’t want to miss a reaction if he could help it.

“M’feeling too tall standing here like that.”

“If only you’d go on your knees…” Another laugh. Hyuga was in a good mood today. “No one would believe it if I told them.”

“Ugh! Don’t make me regret coming down to your level. I’ve been on my feet working a legitimate job all day.”

Hyuga’s smile drifts back to his standard frown, turning to pour more alcohol to fill his cup.

“What’re you doing here, Murayama?”

Here it is, the big question. He could say his body just FELT like being here, but that would have been a weird thing to say. Not when this thing between them was on the edge between the labels of “new” and “like usual.” Yoshiki really can’t see himself as a clingy kind of guy and can guarantee Hyuga doesn’t want someone like that.

Instead of vocalizing his answer, he bounces back up and climbs up the three steps to stand at the entrance of the room. He falls back into a squat, arms resting on his knees, and leans forward. His knees hover just above the floor as are his hands placed in front of Hyuga’s knees, it’s a gross bastardization of a dogeza, but purposeful. He looks up at him intently and tells him what he wants.

“I wanna have a go at what you can give me tonight, Hyuga-chan.”

Fight or fuck; he’s up for anything.

And for what it’s worth, Hyuga doesn’t do much in response to that but pour another cup and bring it over to Yoshiki’s mouth. He tips it forward gently pouring some of the smooth, fiery liquid into his mouth. The alcohol burns, but he can’t help but lick the remainder of the drink away as Hyuga moves to finish the rest of the cup before putting it back on the table.

“Babe, get over here before I drag you.”

Yoshiki laughs, hopping back on his heels and kicking off his shoes before walking the few steps to quite literally fall into Hyuga’s lap. He can’t keep the smile from his face despite the repositioning of his human cushion’s legs, which nearly jab him in the thigh. He leans forward, pushing Hyuga backward, unsure of what’s happening until he’s on his back on the ground.

“One point for me,” Yoshiki says, the grin of pride poking fun at his partner's misstep.

Hyuga doesn’t allow Yoshiki to revel in his victory. Instead, he bodily flips them over, the weight of a grown man now pushing him into the wood flooring. The Daruma leader is now looking smugly down at him, the biting grin almost a mirror to what Yoshiki had on his face a second ago.

“Don’t think I’ll let you get away with that.”

Yoshiki laughs. This was what he was here for. His laughter abruptly stops as he kicks trying to flip the over. It’s not a perfect move, Hyuga lands on his side rather than his back, but instead of disengaging Yoshiki leans in to steal a biting kiss. He feels Hyuga respond immediately with tongue and teeth. He doesn’t let his guard down, his body tilting then until he’s on top again.

He doesn’t realize that Hyuga’s about to punch until he feels the sudden sharp sting of pain.

“Fuck. That was dirty.”

Hyuga’s breathless reply of “That kiss was dirty” causes a grin to spread across Yoshiki’s face. He makes a move to stand up again as his opponent slowly does so himself.

“All's fair in love and war, Hyuga-chan.”

The snort of amusement that escapes from Hyuga’s mouth only encourages Yoshiki. His fingers tingle with excitement as they come together to throw their first official punches. It’s like a dance of strength and skill. Hyuga is a strong fighter. He’s all determined precise punches of erratic anger and though Yoshiki prefers to flow with his opponent's moves, he ends up matching every blowback with fervor.

A leg sweep nearly takes him down, avoiding it with a short hop, Yoshiki uses gravity’s momentum to bring his fist down. With the sharp sting of skin on skin, he knows his knuckles are going to bruise. He’ll have to think of some story to tell his coworkers if they ask what happened.

As if sensing Yoshiki’s mind wandering, Hyuga grabs the front of his shirt and pulls him in for a biting kiss. It’s almost feral, all teeth and aggression. Hyuga is saying you are here and you will focus on me. He’s right. Yoshiki came here specifically to see him.

He bites back, which causes Hyuga to growl at him. Yoshiki laughs into his mouth, his bottom lip feeling the scratch of incisors accepting the copper tang of blood suddenly in his mouth. Stepping back, a self-satisfied grin on his face as he goes for another punch.

It’s blocked with a knee going up to hit the other in the stomach. It connects but only just barely; Hyuga has the sense to shift away just in time. They stand apart for a moment before Hyuga decides to hold out his hand, palm facing the floor, to make a “come here” motion.

Yoshiki dabs at the blood pooling on his lip, trying to staunch the already healing cut. He wants to rush back in to throw himself into the fray of being with Hyuga. The energy is palpable and he wants to be able to show the Daruma Ikka leader that he’s all in tonight. He feels himself moving forward towards the beckoning, his arms move to pull Hyuga in close as grabs the open happi and drags him back into a kiss. It’s messy, both with and without the blood, but he holds them together as he feels the other’s arms encircling him.

They stay like that for some time. Yoshiki makes sure to leave some dark marks on Hyuga’s neck as a means of pride. They’ll both look pretty worn by the time they’re done. For Yoshiki it’ll be the injuries asked about before the hickey is noticed and for Hyuga it’ll be the opposite. Still, as Yoshiki leads Hyuga to settle above his hips while laying on the ground, they are even as far as points go.

—-

“What made you so fired up today?”

Norihisa pulls a drag from his kiseru, leaning on his side to watch the emotions go through Murayama’s face. It wasn’t as if the man was easy to read, but he tends to wear his heart on his sleeve when it mattered.

However, this time Murayama closes his eyes and smiles. The lackadaisical look nearly has Norihisa crawling on top of him again.

“It was a good day and I felt like coming by. The new building we’re contracted to build is close by.”

An exhale of smoke and Norihisa leans in to take another kiss from Murayama. It’s slow and lazy and it makes Murayama hum with appreciation. It’s faint at this point, but Norihisa can smell the scent of freshly cut wood deep in his partner's hair.

Murayama turns to face him, patting him on the cheek lightly.

“Not like we were always close, but I’ll miss ya sometimes.”

By instinct, Norihisa turns his head to nip at the fingertips by his face. He’s too content at this moment to care how soft he’s coming off in the afterglow. It’s one of the few things he’ll allow after fighting and fucking Murayama; when their energy has been expended and all that’s left are their true selves outside of the pomp and circumstance of being leaders (and former leaders) of S.W.O.R.D.

Unfortunately, the time has passed and with a groan of disappointment, Murayama sits up. His look is apologetic and Norihisa knows what’s coming.

“Gotta head out. Work tomorrow. They expect us there by 5:30. These early days are what mess me up.”

It’s so obvious what Norihisa wants to say as Murayama pulls his shirt back on. He reaches out to pull at Murayama’s sleeve to bring him close and says against his lips, “Just stay tonight, you idiot.”

A pause and then a bright grin follow. Murayama knows he’ll have to avoid a cranky Norihisa that early in the morning, but a shorter commute and overnight company outweigh the risks. Norihisa barely has time to put down the kiseru before his arms are full of the former leader of Oya.