#mitsuran

CHIBI MITSURAN

CHIBI MITSURAN

tags: not admitting their feelings, complaining about each other during sex etc etc.

Ran is counting the hours, sprawled out on their sofa, hair undone, looking out of the window upside-down, watching the sun set and the clouds move. He is sweaty and shirtless, he has just finished working out with Rindou, and his brother is taking some extra time stretching, to relax himself, probably.

His phone goes off with a notification and his brows knit. He picks it up, unlocks the screen, and his eyes narrow.

From: Mitsuya

You free?

“Don’t forget to eat, Ran,”

Rindou’s words echo somewhere in the background, but they fall on deaf ears, completely.

Ran types out a quick response, automatically, because he knows that, perhaps, he is more nervous than he is letting on.

Are the kids out?

From: Mitsuya

At a friend’s

“Rin, I’m heading out.”

Rindou looks up from the floor, stretched out in some position that makes Ran question his brother’s sanity. “Today?”

“I will be back in time for bed.” Ran jokes, and Rindou kind of gets it, too.

The air ripples past him, stirs him from his own gloominess, cool and soothing. His bike is rumbling beneath him, just a few minutes to Mitsuya’s house.

He climbs the staircase to the second floor, rings the bell, waits, still, somewhat antsy. Mitsuya opens the door a few moments later, yeah, pretty, pretty Mitsuya. Ran observes him, his half shaved head, the tattoo he had heard of but never seen clinging to his temple.

Mitsuya is staring, gawking, too. He doesn’t remember when he last saw Ran, but his hair is longer, even in its tight braids. He is dressed in a red tee that’s just a bit too short, leaving a neat strip of skin exposed between the hem of his shirt and the top of his low-rise jeans. His tattoo is exposed on one arm, too, and Mitsuya wonders how many people get to see Ran without his uniform.

The silence is thick enough to cut with a knife.

“I brought condoms and cigarettes.” Ran breaks the ice, and Mitsuya laughs.

“You keep smoking and you won’t be able to lift a finger in a fight.” Mitsuya retreats deeper into the house, motions for Ran to follow.

“You sound like Rindou.” Ran rolls his eyes and takes a moment to quickly undo his combat boots before coming into the house. He can be an asshole, but he has manners.

Ran follows the familiar route to Mitsuya’s room, bathed in the golden hues of the setting sun. His hair seems damp from showering, and Ran finds himself kind of jealous.

Tokyo is still warm.

He tosses the condoms and cigarettes on the bed and lazily strips off his shirt, standing in front of Mitsuya, who is currently perched on the edge of the mattress. The younger licks his lips and draws him closer by the waist.

“Lost weight?” Mitsuya can’t help the concern.

A dire mistake, because Ran is now grinning at him.

“Like it?” Ran leans into the caresses that gently trace up his abdomen, outlining every edge of defined muscle.

“You’re already thin.” Mitsuya argues, but casually falls into their usual back and forth, with his lips perched on top of Ran’s hipbone, sucking a small bruise onto his skin.

“Rindou works me like a dog.” Ran whines, twists his fingers into Mitsuya’s silver hair. “Though, I trust you didn’t call me here to fuck me gently and hold my hands?”

“You’re so irritating.” Mitsuya grunts, hooks his thumbs into the belt loops of Ran’s jeans, and tugs hard. It’s enough for him to lose balance and scramble into his lap, the upside of him being so stupidly lanky.

Mitsuya knows his body well enough, knows it from kicking and bruising each other, and knows it from kissing and biting as well. So when he pushes him into the mattress to tug his jeans off, he also knows that Ran will comply and lift his hips for him.

Another thing he had learned about Ran is that he isn’t body shy. He is quite cocky, if anything, loves being naked and making him gawk. And again, he’s doing a great job at it.

“Mitsuya,” Ran hums with half lidded eyes, pulls one of his knees close to his chest, and lets it slide down again, knowing that the sound of the rustling sheets are enough to send the younger riling. “Remember the summer festival—“

“You don’t ever let me forget.” Mitsuya locks his jaw in faux irritation, though it’s more of an attempt to stay straight faced as his cock twitches under his baggy sweatpants. Ran knows, of course he does, and he’s already condemned the moment he sees him smirking.

He strips quickly, just to match up with Ran, and the rushed movements betray the tension in his body. Well, none can do, he lets Ran win, he always does, because the treat is sweet and his thighs are warm when they clasp around Mitsuya’s waist.

And they’re kissing, it’s a mean, somewhat feral kiss, a poor attempt at keeping whatever rivalry is going on between them burning. If there is no love to connect them, hate will, and Ran is fine with that. He isn’t sure about Mitsuya, though, because there is a desperation in that touch, there is a hint of regret when he bites Ran’s lower lip, and he wonders why.

To Ran it’s natural, scratching a bit too hard, biting till skin breaks and till things etch on unpleasantness, but Mitsuya? Mitsuya feels like he is holding back, like he only performs for Ran because he is wicked and kind of gross at times.

And this gentleness and giving nature, it really has Ran confused. Because he should be used to it, staring at the ceiling, arching his back, a pretty mouth wrapped around his cock— but it’s not the same. Mitsuya’s teeth never graze him and his fingertips don’t bruise or try to lay claim where it’s undeserved, in fact, usually his fingers are busy, like now, stretching him open and being surprisingly mindful.

Ran isn’t sure about it, but he doesn’t say anything. It’s not like their sexually incompatible, no, in fact, Mitsuya makes his toes curl and his voice break, and isn’t afraid to slap him or shove his head into the wall. What’s missing is the malice that Ran harbours towards his partners and the malice that they harbour towards him. He knows the push isn’t meant to scar, and that knowledge in itself is alien.

“Ran,”

Yes, he is overthinking it.

“At least give me some response.” Mitsuya teases, lighthearted, and starts to suck a small bruise on top of his hipbone. Ran hums along, tries to come back into his body and his senses, to focus on everything that he’s feeling. Yeah, sex with Mitsuya is great.

“Sorry, I’m tired.” Ran whispers, he isn’t sure why, but he is kind of sure that he means it.

“You’re tense.” Mitsuya observes, withdraws his fingers to start palming at Ran’s cock, hard and resting against his stomach. It twitches in interest, and that comforts Mitsuya.

“You’re tense.” Ran hisses back, hands fist into the bedsheets. He isn’t sure why. “What’s this? Therapy session with your fingers up my ass?”

“No.” Mitsuya laughs, moves his hand a bit faster, circles the spot underneath the head of Ran’s cock because it makes him shudder. “Relax,”

He’s smug, and it makes Ran mad. Which is confusing in itself, because not a lot of things make him mad.

“Fuck,” Ran groans, feels like pulling his braids out. “I’ll fucking kill you tomorrow.”

“That’s more like it.” Mitsuya winks, is straightening up, pulling Ran close to him by the thighs— and, admittedly, it’s kind of hot, how he can pull Ran’s body across the mattress with ease. They don’t say anything else, because they’re not cheesy like that, but Mitsuya’s blissed out face when he sinks his cock into Ran makes the older burn with the desire to humiliate him.

Hopefully, he doesn’t need to. Mitsuya doesn’t wait, he grabs his hips and draws back, plants Ran’s firm ass against his cock again, and Ran moans, finally, unconstricted.

His legs lock behind Mitsuya’s waist and he pulls him in, flash against him, so abruptly that the younger stumbles forward and barely catches himself at the elbows. Ran is staring at him, openly, his pretty hand wraps around Mitsuya’s neck and starts squeezing while their rhythm builds up.

Mitsuya watches, drinks the sight in in borderline delirium, the way Ran’s eyes flutter and his brows squeeze together. His braids are messy from rubbing against the pillow, his cheeks flustered and his chest heaving. He definitely needs to stop smoking.

“Fuck,” Mitsuya curses, Ran is growing tighter around him, following his rhythm like a well versed waltz. He’s growing so loud, his head tossed back and his skin stained with sweat, and right then, Mitsuya is glad he sent the kids away. Ran’s cock slaps against his stomach with every thrust, a lewd sound that makes Mitsuya heady with pride.

Ran wraps a clumsy hand around himself and starts jerking his cock to the rhythm of Mitsuya’s thrusts, and right then, he kind of caves in. He yanks Mitsuya’s face close and kisses him hard, bites, draws blood. It’s his love language, and the both of them know to reluctantly admit to it.

So Mitsuya matches in, grabs his cheeks in a tight grip that has his nails digging into the soft skin of his face. That’s when his body sings, Mitsuya knows, when the sting comes in, and when it does, he cums as well, perfectly synchronised, spilling into a mesh of cries and curses.

Ran is gone for a good ten seconds, just panting loud, arm draped over his neck, staring at Mitsuya with hazy eyes.

They don’t talk about it. Ran isn’t good at talking. He’s only good at scooting over when they’re done and curling into his side. It takes a while for his breath to ease again, and just maybe, Mitsuya is right and he should stop smoking. Not right then, though, because he desperately needs a smoke to cool down.

Ran isn’t sure how long they stay sprawled in bed, but he’s sure it must be a while, considering that the breeze of the open window is beginning to feel a bit too cold. Late night sting. He tilts his head a bit and finds Mitsuya staring right back at him, somewhat troubled, definitely blissed out.

Ran can feel something building up, so he drowns it before it reaches the surface. He sits up and starts to look for his clothes, although he can feel a pair of insistent eyes on his back.

“Ran.”

He pauses, halfway through buttoning his trousers up.

“Don’t die tomorrow.”

Ran falters a bit, face pensive. The noise from the streets below is comforting. This is the closest he has ever received to a confession, he thinks, and it feels kind of nice.

“Same to you, Mitsuya.” He grins, finally finishes dressing up. “So, don’t cross me tomorrow.” He picks his cigarette pack from the floor.

Mitsuya snorts, light hearted. He gets up and lazily pulls his sweatpants on, lets them hang loosely from his waist. Ran never stays over, and he knows better than to ask him to.

All I can is Mitsuya looks goddamn feral, badass and exuding Dom aura in every chapter of this fight. I can't handle the hotness sir-

SOME MANGA SPOILERS AHEAD!!!!