#*soumako

Different strokes for different folks.

Makoto had heard that phrase before, followed by Nagisa’s shrieking with a laughter so fruity that it left no one in the room doubting why he was laughing. Yet even so, Makoto was starting to figure out what it meant. Not in… th-that way. Well okay, to some people that probably was the case, but that wasn’t how Makoto thought about it.

Though in his case, it was more like different strokes from different folks.

Makoto was a big guy. He was gentle with most, because most people couldn’t handle him if he wasn’t. But Sousuke could. Makoto could throw at Sousuke whatever he couldn’t do to most people and Sousuke would not only endure it, but enjoy enduring it. The same worked in the reverse. They were both built to handle taking out their tension on each other.

So when Sousuke worked Makoto’s shoulders, it was intense and exhausting and everything that Makoto needed. Sousuke pushed into all the cracks and muscles. Nothing was ever left untouched. A massage from Sousuke was like going on a hike up a mountain. Hard work at the time, but once you’d got to the top and seen how much ground you’d covered, you knew that it was worth it.

Then there was Kisumi, all the way at the other end of the spectrum. Because yeah, there were days when Makoto just wanted to be destroyed by one of Sousuke’s deep massages, but there were also days when he just wanted to relax. Work was hard and Makoto tended to devote more time to his job than he did do himself. So sometimes when he came home, he’d collapse on the sofa and just be done.

That was when Kisumi stepped in. He was so light and gentle, but soothing in a way that no one else was. More often than not, at the end of Kisumi softly massaging his back, Makoto would be sound asleep and Kisumi would see that as a compliment. It meant that this was a job well done.

Makoto winced as the bandage was drawn tight, but Sousuke knew that a tight bandage would serve him better in the long run. Especially since they had no idea when they’d be back in civilisation long enough to get him a new one. There was only so much of Sousuke’s robes that he could tear off, even if he knew in himself that he’d use every last piece of cloth on his body if it meant taking care of Makoto.

They were two days off-track and the desert was unforgiving, as had been the bandits that had raided them during the night. Two two of them managed to send them packing before too much harm was done, but they’d made off with all of the goods that Sousuke and Makoto had been bringing back for Prince Rin. It was a wasted trip now, but as long as Makoto got back safely, that was what Sousuke cared about the most.

“You were reckless,” Sousuke commented, as Makoto flexed his arm to check the bandage.

“Says the man who tried to charge their horse,” replied Makoto.

“It was old, I thought I could take it,” Sousuke dismissed, “Are you ready to move again?”

“I think so. Just give me a moment to pull myself together.”

Sousuke nodded. He got up to check their supplies. The bandits had made off with most of their food, but at least they’d been merciful enough to leave them water. Either that or they’d just overlooked the casks. A foolish mistake to make out here.

He saw Makoto’s shadow come up behind him before he felt the kiss on his shoulder, but he welcomed it all the same. Makoto could tell that he was shaken, even if Sousuke wouldn’t admit it.

“We’ll be fine,” Makoto whispered into his ear, “It’s only a two day travel back to town and we have enough to get there. So we’ll get hungry? Not as if that’s never happened before.”

“Rin’s gonna be pissed that we’re empty-handed,” Sousuke muttered.

“Then he can trek across the desert for his own damn trinkets if he cares that much,” said Makoto.

“You can tell him that.”

“I will.”