makima time

It wasn’t home— of course—but it was where Shiraishi was. And that was special. 

He could feel the ocean breeze coming in through the open bedroom window. Shiraishi was warm against him, a contrast to the chill in the air. Asirpa had left his other side, eager to go spend time with her friends here; the women who tended to Shiraishi’s little palace—and Sugimoto had told her that he’d sleep in, if he could. 

The sun was shining a bit too brightly for Sugimoto to continue ignoring it, the glaring rays hot over his feet, travelling up his legs. It was warm, he was made warmer still by Shiraishi’s limbs all tangled around him, and Sugimoto thought that maybe it was time to wake up. 

He tried. He blinked the drowsiness from his eyes, vision focusing to see the curve of Shiraishi’s jaw, slack with sleep. 

Taken by the moment, and just the unfurling feelings in his chest, Sugimoto ran the back of his fingers along Shiraishi’s cheek. 

He looked a little lost, like this, and it was darling. It was nostalgic.

Maybe he just missed Shiraishi. 

(As if that was even a question.)

A little miffed now, Sugimoto sidled closer, shifting to disturb Shiraishi. Shiraishi mumbled, making a tiny noise when Sugimoto slid an arm around him in return. 

He smelled nice. Like himself, like sleep, warmed over and comfortable. Sugimoto took a moment to breathe it in, face pushing into Shiraishi's neck.

Shiraishi grunted, then turned his head to nuzzle Sugimoto's hair, his body pressing against Sugimoto's.

"Ngh. Saichi…"

Ah, that was sweet. Sugimoto couldn’t help it; he was too weak to any semblance of domesticity with this man, weak that this felt so intimate, "Hm? Are you waking up?"

"Nuh-uh," Shiraishi mumbled, but squeezed Sugimoto, shifting to tilt his head, pushing his mouth against Sugimoto’s forehead. 

It wasn’t a kiss, but it wasn’t not one, either. It still flustered Sugimoto. 

"Wake up already, dummy."

"Be nice to me. I’m barely awake…" Shiraishi whined, but he properly kissed Sugimoto’s forehead now, letting his lips trail on skin. 

Sugimoto's face was too hot. But there was no urge to hide himself away; his cap was off and they were in bed, and Sugimoto felt like he had been dying of thirst and Shiraishi's affection was springwater.

He reached up to cup Shiraishi's cheek, fingers scratching over the light stubble he had. Sugimoto pulled his face away to look at Shiraishi again, needing to set eyes on him.

He didn't know what kind of expression he was making, but the dopey smile Shiraishi greeted him with made that irrelevant.

He had to say it, domestic bliss clouding his judgement, "Good morning, Yoshitake."

Shiraishi hummed, clearly pleased, "Good morning, Saichi."

They had drunk sake late into the night, catching up on things, reminiscing. Just spending time with each other the way they used to, taking their fill of each other’s company. 

Things escalated, of course, as it always did whenever they were drunk and too affectionate. 

They stole away when they could throughout the night, when others were being merry and feasting, and Shiraishi had reminded Sugimoto exactly what he felt like, just in case Sugimoto had forgotten.

(Not that Sugimoto ever did. As if Sugimoto's mind didn't constantly wander to him, when they were apart.)

Shiraishi leaned in to kiss him, but stopped himself, remembering, "Oh, sorry—"

Sugimoto pulled him in, uncaring of morning breath or whatever it was that gave Shiraishi pause. It wasn't as if he minded. They only had so much time, after all. Shiraishi fell into it easily, almost grateful, and then it was as if they had never stopped doing this.

"Yoshitake," he said, quiet, in between kisses, "We should probably get up."

"Probably," Shiraishi said, but pushed himself a little more into Sugimoto’s space, and Sugimoto laughed, a breathy sound in the air. It was not difficult to feel thoroughly romanced, when Shiraishi was touching him this way.

"Mm. You’re so warm." 

"Hey, don’t go back to sleep." 

Shiraishi smiled at him, eyes too bright to be sleepy, "Keep me awake then?"

Shiraishi hummed, slipping his legs between Sugimoto’s; tangling them together. 

This felt right. This, felt like home. 

Shiraishi was definitely awake, moving against Sugimoto a little more insistently, and Sugimoto pushed right back. The closeness and the physicality and the intimacy of it all was getting to him, and he wanted…

"Yoshitake…"

"Saichi~" Shiraishi hummed his name and reached down between them, touching him with purpose, "Can I please?" 

"Yeah. I want to."

"Nice," his tone was smarmy enough that Sugimoto had to smack his shoulder, but Shiraishi was already working at him, fingers opening him up—loose enough from their reunion yesterday.

"It’s like a really good dream, y’know. Waking up with you." 

"Shiraishi…"

"Really. It’s like it’s my birthday, or something." 

Sugimoto laughed, pushing at him, even as his leg lifted to give Shiraishi more access, "You’re so dumb."

"Yeah," Shiraishi pushed him back, a little, rolling over him on all fours, "I’m dumb." 

This was so easy. So normal. It was like Sugimoto always woke up to Shiraishi over him, desire and adoration blatant on his face. Sugimoto never knew it was those specific feelings before. But they were way past that now. Distance or not, they were good with each other. 

"Come on already…"

"Yeah?" Shiraishi changed the angle of his wrist, making Sugimoto gasp in pleasure, "What do you want, Saichi? Tell me." 

Sugimoto gripped at him, desperate and increasingly frustrated, "Want you in me."

Shiraishi’s expression changed a little, gaze darkening, "Okay. Your wish is my command."

Sugimoto had to kiss him, to shut him up. 

Clumsily, and with much messy kissing and shuffling, Shiraishi undressed. Slipping into Sugimoto was easy, like coming home, like finally feeling comfortable. 

Sugimoto squeezed on him, asshole fluttering around his cock. Last night was them coming together after a long while, and it still felt a little tender, but not unfamiliar. Never unfamiliar. Sugimoto craved it so badly.

"Fuck, Saichi. You’re wonderful." 

Shiraishi must know what it was doing to Sugimoto. Hell, Shiraishi must know, and was catering to him, and Sugimoto couldn't even pretend he didn't like it so, so much. The praise went straight to his dick, making him shiver all over. 

"Yoshitake—love you. Love you…" 

The heat, the pressure, the overwhelming feeling of love and affection and comfort was enough to make Sugimoto curl his toes. 

"Sweetheart," Shiraishi kissed his nose, angled himself and hit it right where Sugimoto needed him to, "Love you too. Saichi. I wish—"

He didn’t finish, surprised by Sugimoto’s legs locking around his waist, pulling him in. 

It was nothing but motion and noise and them, taking what they need from each other as much as they could. 

"Yoshitake—" Sugimoto moaned, body arching in his orgasm, "I’m—"

He came for a long time, body shuddering hard in Shiraishi’s arms.

Shiraishi held him close, pressing lips to his warm temple, relishing in the presence of him.

His coming down was slow, Shiraishi was just as lean as he was before but he held Sugimoto close regardless, tight and close and grounding, and Sugimoto could overpower him anytime but he had no desire to.

He could just be, here, on this island and in this room, with his best friend and lover holding him like he was something precious.

He ran his hand down Shiraishi's back, stopped at his plush ass and pulled at him, "Come on. Finish in me."

It wasn't the first time and would not be the last time he'd say something like that, but it always got to Shiraishi. He held Sugimoto close and fucked him the way Shiraishi needed to now, hard and deep and the sensation was too much but Sugimoto endured, because he wanted it just as badly.

Warm all over, after. He could say many things, but they ultimately did not matter. Not right now. 

Shiraishi kissed him and kissed him, reverent lips on Sugimoto's cheeks, nose, eyelids, and as overwhelmed as he was taking it again after months of abstinence, this was somehow worse. He was hot all over and he had tears in his eyes but he never wanted Shiraishi to ever let him go.

Not even if Sugimoto couldn't stand it anymore. This would not last forever.

/

It was a parody of domesticity, but Sugimoto couldn't deny how much he enjoyed it, when they got this way. Whatever. Nothing was a farce if both parties wholly believed in it, right?

That was what Shiraishi told him, way back when Sugimoto and Asirpa followed the lead of the golden coin embossed with his stupid face, back when Sugimoto grabbed him by the lapels and couldn't decide to punch him or kiss him to death.

Back when there was a shine in Shiraishi's eyes that could be nothing but proof that despite it all, Shiraishi had missed them too.

Sugimoto wasn't one to think too much of the past anymore, anyway.

If this was what was meant for them, then so be it. It was still good.

Still good, in these instances, almost stolen moments, when Shiraishi would cup his face and look into his eyes like they were the only two people in the world who ever felt anything for each other. It made him feel romanced, which Sugimoto hadn't ever considered possible for himself.

So he accepted it.

/

Asirpa’s smile was huge, even as her jaw worked away with chewing, the sound of crunching just barely audible.

"This is brilliant, Shiraishi. Sugimoto, you need to try some!" 

Sugimoto did, opening his mouth as Asirpa shovelled some food into it. It was sea grapes, dipped in soy sauce, and Sugimoto made a surprised noise at the bursting sensation once he bit down, sea salt popping on his tongue. 

"Tasty!" 

Shiraishi laughed, rubbed the back of his head like he was embarrassed, "Right? It goes so well with beer too. You know, Asirpa-chan, it’s really lucky that you guys visited now. They’re gonna be hard to find come September." 

He reached down to run his hand in the shallow seawater, gently touching the floating fronds of the sea grapes, "I was told that they were originally called N’kyafu. But people have been floating around umi budou for a while now, which I suppose is kind of cute." 

Asirpa copied him, sounding the word ’N’kyafu’ on her tongue, and chewed thoughtfully. 

It felt familiar, felt right. A little different that it was Shiraishi who was telling them the history of a delicacy, lore from the natives passed through Shiraishi to them, but it felt significant, now. Even far away, Asirpa had touched Shiraishi in such a way that he was forever different. Forever marked. Forever theirs. 

Maybe Sugimoto was just overly sentimental.

"It's cute," Sugimoto said, looking over at the waves lapping at the beach, at the sand dappled with green, "I like both names."

/ 

Shiraishi had mentioned only once, when they were reunited, that he didn’t like teary goodbyes. It was a quick statement, words laced with pained laughter as Asirpa pulled him into a hug and pulled at his hair, uncharacteristically long at the time. 

It made Sugimoto think of Shiraishi saying his name, leaping into his arms and sobbing, and he supposed it was the opposite with teary reunions. 

Goodbyes had been easier, once Shiraishi had said his piece. He supposed maybe they could have established that from the start. 

But nothing was wrong, they were not risking their lives for a treasure to save a future generation, and Sugimoto could be content with this. 

"6 months, yeah, Shiraishi?" Sugimoto said, and Shiraishi grinned at him.

"Yeah! Please tell Huci I’m coming, I’ll cry if I don’t get to eat her bekomochi." 

Asirpa laughed, "I’m quite sure she’s already thinking of what to feed you. 

A quick hug, tight enough and long enough he could imprint the feel of Shiraishi in his mind, to hold onto for the months ahead. Took a deep breath in; Shiraishi always smelled like himself, and it was soothing to Sugimoto every time.

Despite the ocean breeze, despite the distance, Shiraishi smelled the same and that was enough. That could be enough.

They both let go, and went their separate ways.