He knew since the beginning that they were friends with Ichiro, and either extremely loyal or extremely stupid to keep being friends with him despite Samatoki being their boyfriend. Samatoki believed it to be loyalty, and kind of admires that. He knows that you’ll never leave him for Ichiro, but that doesn’t mean he’s not occasionally peeved about it. 

Like when you come home from the arcades with a large plushie in your hands. He asks where they got it, and he prickles when they say casually, “Oh, Ichiro won it for me!” He waits for you to put it down, and he feels his face hot as you embrace him. Not in embarrassment, more in a need that existed in the depths of his belly, a fire stoked in jealousy. 

It’s in that very moment that he’s at their lips, kissing deeply and hungrily. He parts his lover’s lips with his tongue, pulling back only for a moment to meet their eyes. Usually he asks a soft can I kiss you, always double checking before he touches you. But something, no, someone, set him off. 

“Samatoki?” They breathe, and he’s already down their jaw, littering their neck with little red marks. Will they bruise? Samatoki doesn’t care, he just wants that someone to know that they’re taken. 

His lover is panting softly, lips reddened and parted slightly as their eyes flutter shut. 

“Mine.” He growls finally, and they feel like their knees will buckle. 

God, Samatoki, don’t ever stop.