[fic] Step by Step; Light and Shade - (18.1/?)
TITLE: Step by Step; Light and Shade
PAIRINGS: Sakuraiba, Matsumiya, Aimiya, Ohmiya, ShoxMaki, and JunxMao
LENGTH: Multi-chaptered
BANDS Arashi (with Horikita Maki and Inoue Mao)
GENRE: Romance, drama... etc.
RATING (by chapter): R/NC17
WARNINGS: AU, language and potentially sexual situations in later chapters.
SUMMARY: "To watch us dance is to hear our hearts speak" - Indian Proverb
Sakurai Sho is the Chief Financial Officer for a large corporation, he has a loving girlfriend, a strange (but friendly) co-worker, and a best friend who teaches a ballroom dance class (which Sho has been guilted into attending). At the class, Sho's encounter with another unorthodox dancer -and his partner- will be the spark needed to kindle new relationships and end others.
PREVIOUS: Step01 Step02 Step03 Step04 Step05 Step06 Step07 Step08 Step09 Step10 Step11 Step12 Step13 Step14 Step15 Step16 Step 17
Step 18.
**please note the rating for this chapter is different from prior chapters**
"Can I get you any--?" Jun started but stopped in his tracks when he lifted his gaze from his notepad and recognized the woman staring icily back at him. "Ah, hello." He swallowed nervously. "Can I get you anything to drink?"
"A coffee. Black." Mao's mother answered curtly. "And then you can take your break early and join me."
Jun gaped at her, scrambling for an excuse to decline.
"Don't bother." She said, somehow knowing exactly what he was thinking. "Your manager already gave me permission to borrow you."
Jun turned to look but his boss scurried away nervously, refusing to make eye contact. Jun sighed. "... One coffee, coming up."
+++
“So this is where you’ve been living.”
“Not that he’s spent much time living here in recent months.” Nino commented, swiping a hand through the dust gathered on the table as he passed them.
Aiba hurried to clean it away sheepishly. “Sorry, it’s even more of a mess than it usually would be.”
“Half his things are in boxes, for starters.” Nino called.
“I like it.” Sho bent down to peer at the photo books stacked up in an open box. “I wish I’d visited earlier. The atmosphere is really warm.”
“You think so?” Aiba chuckled. “There’s nothing really special about this tiny place.”
“Maybe it’s just because you lived here.” Sho said quietly, not looking up from the photographs.
Aiba’s heart skipped, and he reached out to take Sho’s hand. Sho met his eyes, looking a little sad and a little shy.
“You know what else is warm?” Nino announced loudly, suddenly reappearing. Sho and Aiba jumped apart. “Me. Because I’ve been lugging boxes of your things down to the rental truck. By myself.” His hair was stuck to his forehead with sweat, and Aiba winced apologetically.
“Didn’t you come to help out, Sakurai? Or were you two just going to stare soppily at each other all day?”
“Sorry, sorry! We’ll help now, okay?” As a peace offering Aiba handed him one of the cold beer Sho had brought. “Why don’t you take a break?”
Nino grunted something grumpily, but was already ambling away and pulling his DS out of his pocket. “I’ll be in the truck.”
“Sorry about him.” Aiba turned back to Sho once Nino had left the apartment. He dished out two more beer for the both of them. “He’s been on edge since the ‘Ohno’ incident on Thursday. And he’s not used to being around you without the bra and wig.” He laughed.
“If it helps, I’m not used to seeing him as a ‘him’ either.” Sho responded, cracking the can open. Aiba watched as he tilted his head back to take a long swig. “Don’t suppose you know what he’s going to do about Ohno?”
“… Hm? Oh, uh. I think he’s still trying to make his mind up about whether to be angry with him or not. I don’t think he’s tried to contact him.”
Sho nodded thoughtfully. “I hope he does.” He murmured at length. “Ohno-kun’s had a rough go of it lately, what with all his family drama. It’d be nice to see something good happen to him.”
Aiba smiled, feeling a rush of warmth at Sho’s concern for his friend. “I know how you feel. Nino hasn’t been in a relationship for years. I want him to be happy with someone -especially since I turned him down.”
Sho’s lip quirked a little. “But I’m glad you did… for purely selfish reasons.”
Aiba laughed, busying himself with one of the boxes to hide his reddening cheeks. “I won’t tell Nino you said that.” He teased. “Now, pass me that packing tape. We should get to work before he comes back an kills us.”
Sho laughed and joined him, and they taped the box shut standing side by side with their shoulders bumping.
+++
"Let's get straight to the point." She said the moment he sat down across the table from her. "You know who I am, correct?"
Jun nodded warily. "Yes ma'am."
"Because you know my daughter." Her gaze was piercing, unwavering even while she sipped her coffee.
Jun didn't answer right away. "... We've met, yes. But I was also a waiter at the party you organized the weekend before last."
Inoue-san reached into her bag and pulled out a small Manila envelope. She set it ominously on the table between them. "I'm not here because you served my daughter a drink at a party once." She tapped the envelope with one sharply manicured nail and then slid it towards him. "Go ahead."
Jun took a deep breath and picked it up. When he broke the seal and slid the contents out, his stomach dropped. It was a series of photographs snapped of himself and Mao in the playground Thursday night. Several of which left no room to deny the nature of their relationship. Jun could only stare at them in silence, scrambling for something to say.
"I've done my research." Inoue continued, a slightly smug curl to her lips. "Matsumoto Jun, born in Tokyo on August 30th, 1983. Thirty years old, working as a waiter and part time as an instructor for a beginner's ballroom dance class -though that position is about to be terminated. You live in a tiny bachelor apartment in a slightly shady neighborhood, drive an old car that's not likely to pass its next inspection, and have very little hope that your future situation will be any more stable than the shambles it is currently. Have I missed anything?" She folded her hands on the table and waited expectantly for his response.
Jun stared back at her for a long moment. He felt like he might be paralyzed with shock. "... Are you trying to threaten me?"
"Intimidate you. There's a difference." She stated matter-of-factly and then sighed, transforming suddenly from bad cop to good cop. "Look, Matsumoto-san. I just want you to face up to the facts. You know what kind of background my daughter comes from. What do you really think you have to offer her in the long run? The longer you keep lying to yourself, the more hurt she'll be in the end. Get out now, and cause the least amount of damage. I would be more than happy to compensate you handsomely for your sacrifice." She leaned towards him, speaking too gently for the hardness in her eyes. "You may not have any university education, but I don't think you're an idiot. Make the smart choice." With that she stood and strode out, leaving behind the photographs, a business card, and a neatly folded 1000 yen bill that more than paid for the coffee she'd barely touched.
+++
The walk from the building to the truck without hauling heavy boxes was enough to turn all the sweat on Nino’s skin icy cold. By the time he’d clambered into the front seat he was shivering, and the cold beer in his hand wasn’t helping. He cranked the heat up and stuck the can in one of the cup holders for the time being, then huddled in the seat with his hands shoved deep in his pockets. His fingers came in contact with his cellphone and he fiddled with it absently while his thoughts wandered.
He’d sent Ohno Satoshi two text messages in the days since he’d bolted away from him at the dance studio. It had taken a considerable amount of courage to send those messages -both of which were vaguely worded demands for Ohno to get in touch. It was a little insulting and more than a little frustrating that Nino hadn’t received so much as a peep from him in response.
In truth, Nino wasn’t even sure what he wanted to hear from Ohno. An explanation? An apology? Would Ohno be angry that he’d run away? R would he respond with emotions -a confession?
Nino tamped that thought down immediately. He had no idea how he wanted Ohno to react, but any reaction was better than none. He yanked his phone out, still open to his one-sided text conversation, and hit the ‘call’ button with a vengeance.
It rang three times and was sent to voicemail.
Nino hung up and reached for the beer with a growl.
+++
Ohno glanced at his phone as it began buzzing on the desk. The name on the call display made him swallow nervously.
His apprehension must have shown on his face. “Do you need to answer that?” His lawyer spoke up. “I don’t mind, Ohno-san. We can take a break.”
Ohno cleared his throat and shook his head, fumbling a little to hit the ‘dismiss’ option. “It’s fine.” He said, surprised by his own anxiousness. “Let’s get through this.” Besides, he reasoned, it would be rude to take up more of the lawyer’s time on a Sunday.
The lawyer nodded politely, leaning forward again to continue going over his assets and discussing his options.
+++
“The roads are a little slippery…” Nino observed, watching the snow fall and melt upon meeting the pavement. There was a fine layer of slush on the ground.
“We’ll be careful.” Aiba assured him, pulling the door closed on the back of the truck.
“I’m sorry I have to work tonight.” Nino grumbled, eyes sliding over to Sho. “Even if I’d be a third wheel, at least you would have had a co-pilot for the drive back.” Sho must have looked a little surprised, because Nino suddenly looked a little embarrassed. “Sorry I was snappy earlier. I may be an ass but I don’t want you to die in a fiery car wreck.”
Sho smiled, oddly touched. “I’ll be careful.” He said. “And drink lots of coffee.”
Nino huffed a laugh, hands in his pockets as he shuffled a few steps from the truck. “Get going before the roads get any worse. It’s late enough as it is.”
Aiba darted over to give him a one-armed hug before clambering into the passenger seat.
Sho, the more experienced driver of the two of them, took his place behind the wheel and -with a rumble of the engine- they were on their way.
If Aiba looked a little emotional to be leaving his apartment behind, Sho didn’t comment on it and the two-hour drive passed fairly quickly. The radio played a constant medley of Christmas tunes in the background as they chattered aimlessly, comparing childhoods and trading funny anecdotes.
Sho had completely forgotten to be nervous until he pulled the truck into the alley behind Aiba’s family home. The silence after he killed the engine was suddenly charged with anxiety.
“Well,” Aiba said, glancing gat the time. “My family will be busy closing the restaurant for the night, so we’ll have a few minutes at least before they start harassing us.” He chuckled wryly, watching Sho’s attempt not to panic. “Come on.” He opened his door and hopped down onto the ground. “I’ll give you a tour.”
Aiba’s home took up the second floor above the restaurant. It was well lived-in, a little cluttered but very warm and inviting. It felt like a home, not just a house. Sho smiled softly, imagining Aiba living and playing here all through his childhood and youth. When he glanced back at his fully-grown companion he was a little flustered to find Aiba had obviously finishing his tour and was watching him with a fond sort of bemusement.
“It’s nice.” Sho offered, smiling sheepishly. At that moment it occurred to him that of all the rooms Aiba had led him through or pointed out, one was missing. “But where’s your room?”
Aiba beckoned him down the hall. “I shared with Yuusuke when we were little.” He opened a small door which he’d assumed to be a narrow closet, but behind it was actually hidden a very narrow staircase. “Now, I’m bunking in the attic.”
Sho followed him up into the dark, though it was only moments before Aiba had crossed the room to flick on a couple of lamps. There was a collection of dusty cardboard boxes and some old furniture piled to one side of the room. At the other end, a twin-sized bed was squeezed into a corner with a dresser and standing mirror in the space at its foot. The wall at the head of the bed was heavily slanted along with the steep slope of the roof, and the rest of the ceiling was all exposed wooden rafters.
Aiba shrugged a little, ducking his head as he crossed to perch on the edge of his bed. “There’s nothing pretty about it, but it’s a place to sleep.”
Sho silently disagreed, even as he followed on autopilot to sit beside him. The glow of the lamp on the floor beside the bed was soft and warm, bathing Aiba’s tanned skin in a golden light. The shadows were made deep beneath the sweep of his lashes, the stretch of his lips around a smile, the shifting bob of his throat as he swallowed and the sharp dip of his clavicle exposed by the open collar of his shirt. “I am sorry that we’ll have to lug all my thing all the way up here though.” Aiba was saying, turning his head to meet Sho’s stare, his lips quirked a little lopsidedly. “I’ll have you worn out by the time you leave tonight.”
Sho was fairly certain that Aiba had intended no innuendo in his statement, but his mind immediately veered in that direction regardless. His thoughts must have been visible on his face because he watched Aiba’s eyebrows twitch upwards a fraction, his eyes darting to Sho’s mouth at the same time that his lips parted for a thoughtful swipe of his tongue.
Sho traced the movement with his eyes, breath caught in his throat and fingers twitching involuntarily where his hand rested on the mattress between them.
Aiba’s lip curled again towards a smile, just slightly, and he shifted closer. His hand covered Sho’s, thumb sliding across his knuckles, just moments before leaning in to brush lips near reverently against lips.
Sho felt his breath hitch, practically trembling with nerves -which, of course, made his cheeks burn with embarrassment. Aiba continued to press light kisses to him, alternating with dragging his lips against skin and just breathing. It was too little, and far too much all the same, and Sho could barely think past the pounding in his chest let alone respond properly. The ghostly touch of Aiba’s lips trailed along his jaw, his breath hot and damp as he came to mouth the shell of Sho’s ear, tracing lightly at the lobe with his teeth.
Sho certainly couldn’t mask the tremor that ran through him, and his hand twisted to lace his fingers with Aiba’s and grip as though it were a lifeline.
“Is this okay?” Aiba rumbled next to his ear, voice a lower, huskier, register than Sho had ever heard from him before.
Sho shivered again as his breath and words rushed over him but hesitated a moment, wondering dazedly what ‘this’ exactly implied. When Aiba’s free hand reached up to slide in to the hair on the back of Sho’s hand, raking nails gently across his scalp, Sho could only melt into the touch. All hesitation was forgotten with a choked whimper -which he couldn’t even find the presence of mind to be embarrassed about- as he nodded and turned to recapture Aiba’s lips.
Aiba retuned the kiss with enthusiasm, making a soft pleased noise in the back of his throat as Sho leaned into him. Aiba’s grip in his hair tightened, just shy of painful, but Sho’s mouth fell open in a surprised moan at the jolt of heat the tug inspired. Aiba wasted no time, taking the opportunity to lick his way inside Sho’s mouth with a low groan.
Their knees bumped as they shifted closer to each other, and Sho found his hand that wasn’t tangled up with Aiba’s reaching out to skim up Aiba’s thigh and grip the hard curve of his hip. Aiba responded as he pulled, shifting up and forward, and Sho let his legs fall open as Aiba guided him to lie back onto the mattre-
“Masaki!” Called a man’s voice from the base of the attic stairs. “Dad’s making supper for you and your pal. Come on down, will ya?”
Aiba sighed into his mouth, disentangling himself and sitting back with obvious reluctance. “Yeah, Yuusuke.” He called. “Be right down.” His eyes were dark and his lips were red and wet when he met Sho’s gaze again. “Strike two for my bad timing?” He smirked wryly, voice still rough in a way that wasn’t at all helping Sho will away the problem in his pants. “Sorry.” Aiba said, sighing again as he stood up and then reaching out to fuss at Sho’s hair. “We’d better get presentable before we go down there.”
If Sho had been anxious about meeting Aiba’s family before, he was all the more so now.
+++
“Hey!” Mao grinned, though Jun was obviously quite surprised and confused to see her when he answered his door. She held up the paper bag she was carrying. “I come bearing food and drink.” She announced, but dropped the goofy grin and accent when he continued looking bewildered a moment later. “I was in the neighborhood, so I figured I’d see if you were free to hang out. I tried calling, but your phone must be turned off.”
“I-… Yeah, the battery’s dead.” He responded, distracted. “What if I hadn’t been home?”
“Then I guess I’d have this food all to myself, but -alas- here you are.” She laughed, raising an eyebrow when he continued to stand awkwardly in the doorway. “Can I come in? Or are you busy tonight?”
Jun hesitated a second longer before he shook his head and stepped aside. “Sure, come in.”
Part of her wanted to ask if he was sure, but at the same time she didn’t really want him to change his mind.
Jun’s apartment was small and a little spare, but extremely comfortable. The few pieces of furniture he owned were high quality, the perfect balance of high fashion and comfort, and Jun obviously took very good care of his belongings. His apartment smelled very clean and fresh and the things she recognized as being quite old still looked to be in perfect shape.
That wasn’t to say that he was a complete neat freak though. There was still clutter here and there. A tower of haphazardly stacked DVDs by the television, a toppled pile of magazines on the floor by the couch, discarded laundry spilling out of the bedroom door -the last of which Jun hurried to shove out of sight.
She set to unpacking the food she’d brought in his kitchenette. Jun’s strange mood seemed to lift considerably as the platter of lasagna and tub of Caesar salad were revealed. “Wow.” He commented. “Smells awesome.” He squeezed past her to reach the cupboard and pull out some plates, and thankfully made no protest when she took the opportunity to lean back against his chest.
“And, voila!” She pulled the last items out of the bag: a bottle of red wine and a small selection of movies, all of the gory slasher variety.
Jun laughed, setting the plates down while his free hand settled in the dip of her waist. “You’re such a romantic.” He chided, pressing a fondly chaste kiss to her temple. “You pick the movie, and I’ll serve this up.”
She didn’t object, sliding away happily to crouch in front of his television and skim the descriptions on the back of the cases.
“So your mother’s back from New York?” He started, but continued before she could respond in the affirmative. “Have you spoken to her about… anything?”
Mao raised a curious eyebrow. “I think I mentioned that we were low on milk…”
“No, I meant like… has she tried to talk to you about relationship stuff? Like… you and me?”
“Well, no.” She answered carefully, aware of the nervousness in his voice when he’d asked. “I think we both silently agreed not to fight about that until we sit down for our family dinner thing. Which she wants to wait and do Wednesday, by the way, just to further drag out the suspense… Probably it’s all part of her plan to ruin my Christmas Eve. Sorry, this means we won’t get to do anything.”
“It’s okay. I have to work that night anyway.” There was more clattering as he dug around for utensils. “But you think it’ll come up then. On Wednesday.”
“I assume we’ll talk about why I don’t want to date Ohno-kun, but she doesn’t know about you.” Mao put the disc into his DVD player and watched over her shoulder as he carried their full plates in and arranged them on the coffee table. He seemed disproportionately focused on what he was doing, and she couldn’t read his expression. “Call me a coward, but the situation is volatile enough without adding my relationship with you into the equation. You understand why I want to keep the two issues separate, right?”
Jun met her eyes, setting the wine and two glasses next to their plates. “I understand.” He said. His smile didn’t seem to reach his eyes, though his words seemed honest enough.
Mao half wanted to push the issue further -maybe find out his motivations for asking- but he flicked the television on and pulled her to her feet as the ominous music of the menu screen began to play. “Come on, before the food gets cold.”
Her concerns were quickly forgotten as they snuggled up on the couch to fill their stomachs with heavy pasta and jump and laugh at the borderline ridiculous displays of violence on the screen.
+++
It was striking to see the Aiba family as a unit. Masaki’s father was broad shouldered; his hair and moustache a neatly combed salt and pepper, kind eyes framed by unruly brows and deep laugh lines. Yuusuke was a younger version, sans the facial. Everything about the way he carried himself screamed youth and confidence and cheer. He slapped Masaki’s back and shook Sho’s hand with a grin and a firm grip. Aiba Fumiko was a force to be reckoned with, ill or not. Though it was clear that she was exhausted and underweight, she refused to let any of her boys coddle her. She stubbornly insisted on orchestrating the setting of the table (though she happily enlisted Sho and Masaki’s help in laying it all out) while Yuusuke and her husband brought food up from the restaurant kitchen below.
If Yuusuke was a younger version of his father, the same could be said about Masaki and his mother. She was beautiful, all and graceful in a willowy way, with a sparkle of sharp wit visible in her almond eyes. Her eyes raked over Sho and her oldest boy as they worked, making Sho all too aware of the disheveled state they’d been in not so long ago but, when she caught his gaze, she only smiled with laughter in her eyes and handed him a stack of plates.
It was a ridiculous amount of food to be shared between so few people, especially as Fumiko could stomach no more than a few bites of plain rice. For the rest of the meal she seemed perfectly content just to sip a cup of tea and watch fondly as her family tore into the feast.
Sho tried some of everything, struggling to keep up as Yuusuke took it upon himself to keep serving him more and more, and Masaki only laughed and refused to rescue him.
“It’s all delicious.” Sho said, trying not to groan when Yuusuke brandished another spring roll at him. And it was. There wasn’t a single dish on the table that Sho wouldn’t be eager to try again someday. “But really, if I have any more there’s no way I’ll be able to carry any boxes upstairs tonight. You’re going to put me into a food coma.”
Yuusuke laughed loudly, head thrown back. Their father joined him, standing and thumping Sho on the shoulder as he began clearing the ravaged plates away. “I’m impressed you held out that long, kiddo. You could be family with an appetite that size.”
Sho felt a surprising rush of emotion at those words. He glanced automatically at Masaki, who met his gaze looking equally caught off guard and moved by the sentiment. Across the table, Fumiko and Yuusuke were watching them both with smiling, knowing, expressions. Sho didn’t know how to react to whatever all of it meant, so he ducked his head and excused himself to help with the washing up.
+++
She woke with her head resting against his shoulder, his arm around her keeping her upright and cradled against him while his fingers stroked through her hair. She was warm and comfortable. The room was silent save for the rise and fall of their breathing, and dark save for a dull glow from the television. The movie had ended at some point, and she wondered how long Jun had been sitting there and petting her since. He was watching her when she glanced up, his eyes intent even in the dark.
“Sorry.” She murmured, loath to disrupt the quiet. “How long was I out?”
“Not long.” He whispered back. “It’s okay, I drifted off a bit too.”
Mao sighed. “It must be late. I should get home soon, and you’ve got work tomorrow.”
Jun only hummed in response, and he didn’t let up the petting.
They sat in silence for a while longer. The fingers in her hair were lulling her back to sleep, and Mao wondered if he was ‘drifting off’ again too, but when she looked up Jun’s eyes were open and staring off into space. He looked deep in thought, and troubled.
“Jun.” She said, her own thoughts going back to the strange conversation he’d started earlier regarding the conflict with her mother. He made a distracted questioning sound, but she took a moment longer to pull together what she wanted to say. “Jun, I just…” She trailed off, feeling like no eloquent speech felt honest enough. At length, she decided to go with simple and blunt. “You should know that I love you.”
It took a split second for the words to hit him, but when they did he tensed. Mao wasn’t even sure if he was breathing.
“Don’t panic.” She continued, trying not to laugh. She hadn’t expected anything else, after all. “I know it’s way too soon for you to feel the same way, but I thought I should tell you.” She felt him relax a little, and she sighed and snuggled a little closer to his side. “No matter what my mother, or anyone else, says… there’s no one I’d rather be with. Just so you know.”
Jun’s arm tightened around her, and he pressed his lips to her forehead with a long exhale. “There’s no one I’d rather be with either, Mao.” He murmured. “…Thank you.”
+++
Aiba’s brother and father helped with the first half before they had to call it a night, needing to get up early the following morning for class and work, respectively. The last half of Aiba’s things took a while to haul, particularly since they had to be quiet to avoid waking Aiba’s family members. By the time they’d finished it was half past midnight.
Sho stood, breathing hard, at the back of the truck. In a way he was shocked that the truck was empty, it had seemed like they might never finish. Aiba handed him a water bottle, which he accepted gratefully and downed as quickly as he could get the cap unscrewed. In his rush he felt some of the water overflow, a few thick drops rolling past his lips and chin and down his neck to disappear in his sweat-soaked t-shirt. He felt more so than saw Aiba’s eyes on him, hot and intent as they zeroed in on his bared throat.
Aiba himself was in a similarly disheveled state. His skin was shining with a sheen of perspiration in the light of a streetlamp. His hair was damp, sticking to his forehead and curling around his ears and the back of his neck. His t-shirt had hung loose on his lanky frame before, but now was sticking to every minute dip and curve. Aiba shifted closer, reaching out to swipe a drop of water away from his chin and then lingering, his touch sweeping up the curve of Sho’s jaw and through the damp hair behind his ear.
Sho shivered despite the heat pooling in his gut and rolling off the both of their flushed skin in waves.
Aiba pulled, just slightly, and Sho had barely the presence of mind to set his water bottle down on the truck’s bumper before they were moving, stumbling into the shadows around the side of the truck and crashing together. The kiss they’d shared in the attic had been trembling and tender, but this was an explosion of heat and tension, open-mouthed and wet, all slick tongues and sharp teeth. Aiba crowded him up against the cold metal wall of the truck, pressing their torsos together from hips to chest. It was electric. Aiba tasted like the salt of sweat on his lips, and lingering spice from the ridiculous amount of mabo tofu he’d consumed earlier. He kissed like a man possessed, like the non-existent gap between their bodies was still far too much space for his liking. Sho was inclined to agree, fingers clutching like talons at Aiba’s damp shirt, his sharp elbows, and the denim clinging to his hips.
The sky started to open up; scattered raindrops fell, fat and icy-cold. One hit Sho’s cheek and the shocking temperature made him jolt, but Aiba quickly followed its path was it trailed down his neck, laving away the water’s chill with the hot slide of his tongue. Sho groaned, jerking a little when Aiba followed up with a sharp nip and a well-timed shift of his pelvis. Sho’s hand slipped from Aiba’s hip around to his behind for a better grip.
Aiba chuckled, deep and breathily, against his skin before reclaiming his lips for a slower, deeper, kiss. Sho was tugging, and Aiba’s hips followed the silent order without hesitation, pushing forward in a slow, purposeful, grind that left Sho reeling and gasping into his open mouth.
The rain was starting to fall harder, a slushy onslaught that was icier than liquid but not quite snow either. Sho was more sheltered from it, surrounded as he was by the truck at his back and Aiba plastered to his front. Aiba’s back was quickly growing soaked though. The skin above his waistband felt numbingly cold beneath Sho’s fingers, and he was starting to shiver.
“We should-…” Sho started when their mouth parted to draw breath. He squinted up at the sky, and swiped a hand through the sopping hair on Aiba’s head. “We should move.” He continued, struggling to think coherently beyond the pressure in his jeans and Aiba’s heated gaze boring down into him. “Before we catch pneumonia.”
Aiba leaned in again, kissing him deep and slow and deliberate in a way that made Sho’s blood boil and his knees go weak. Aiba hooked his fingers in his waistband and pulled, reaching out blindly with his other hand and snagging the truck’s passenger-side door handle. It opened and he stepped back, nudging Sho towards the shelter of the cab. “Get in.” He said, voice deep and rough and absolutely wrecked.
Sho’s breath caught, a surprising thrill going through him at the order. He had no doubt that Aiba would allow him to refuse without fuss, but the urge to do so didn’t even cross his mind. He climbed up onto the leather seat, clumsy and graceless in his hurry.
Aiba was right behind him, pulling the lever to jerk the seat back into a forty-five degree recline, and then slinging a leg over Sho so that he was kneeling on the seat, straddling Sho’s lap. He pulled the door shut behind them. Sho fumbled the key out of his pocket and Aiba took it, stretching gracefully across to turn it in the ignition and get the heat pumping.
Sho let his eyes wander, and then his hands, pushing Aiba’s shirt up to skim over smooth skin. The muscles under the flat expanse of his stomach jumped and twitched under Sho’s light touch. Sho let his fingers brush curiously over the fine trail of dark hair disappearing below his waistband and leaned forward to press a kiss above his navel with Aiba’s breath caught in reaction.
Aiba sat back and faced him again, face split and eyes lit up with a grin that was all fondness and warmth.
Sho’s heart clenched, and he felt himself smiling in turn. He tugged a little at Aiba’s shirt bunching the fabric up further. “Can I…?” He asked, hardly recognizing the gruff rumble of his own voice.
Aiba smiled wider, pulling his shirt swiftly over his head and then pressing a gentle kiss to Sho’s mouth. “And you.” He murmured, pulling Sho’s up and away as well. Their shirts were tossed god-knows-where and Aiba’s hands smoothed across Sho’s chest, pulling soft noises from his throat as he concentrated on brushing the pads of his fingers over his nipples with as teasingly little pressure as possible.
It was a welcome torture, but Sho found himself distracted by the birthmark on Aiba’s shoulder. He’d seen the edge of it before, peeking out beyond t-shirt sleeve, but the whole thing unveiled was magnificent. Sho’s fingers traced over the edges, mesmerized by the artful sprawl of dark-pigments speckled from his bicep, across his shoulder, and reaching towards his breastbone. “Beautiful.” He murmured, surprising even himself with the reverence in his voice. Aiba ducked his head, and embarrassed flush spreading from his ears down to his chest. Sho craned his neck to meet his lips, though he himself was equally embarrassed. “I mean it.” He mouthed, making his way down to suck at the hollow of Aiba’s throat.
“I know you do.” Aiba breathed, shuddering a little at the attention. “You’re-…” He shook his head a little, apparently lost for words, and pushed his hands gently through Sho’s hair. “I’m glad we’re doing this - you and me. Being with you feels right.”
Sho let Aiba press him back against the seat and lay a complicated pattern of kissed, scrapes of teeth, and swipes of tongue over his neck, chest, and abdomen. Their hips rocked together involuntarily, and Sho felt like he wanted to put his hands everywhere at once. He couldn’t keep still, raking his palms and fingers over every inch of bared skin, every bump and dip of Aiba’s spine, the short hair at his nape, the sharp lines of his collarbones and the rasp of stubble on his jaw. Sho’s skin felt too tight, like he might burst and fall apart under the onslaught of sensation. His jeans were a loose-fitting pair, but now they stretched painfully taut across his crotch, and he could feel Aiba’s answering bulge pressing into him. Sho’s hand was sliding between them before he realized what he was doing, desperate to release the pressure, he tugged clumsily at the tongue of Aiba’s belt with fumbling fingers. His heart was in his throat, hammering away with nerves and adrenaline, but even despite the anxious voice in his head saying wow, are we really about to do this? Sho was determined. Not to mention incredibly turned on.
Aiba sat back, eyes dark and hair mussed. He made quick work of his own belt to save Sho the awkward struggle and then turned his attention to Sho. He popped the button of his jeans free with one swift move, and then smiled. Sho sucked in a sharp breath. Aiba drew his zipper down excruciatingly slow, intentionally letting his palm press against his covered erection in the process. The air caught in Sho’s lungs was squeezed out in a strangled groan, and his hips canted up towards that pressure without his permission.
Aiba made a low sound at his reaction, jerking his own hips forward a little in response, and everything sped up from there. Aiba’s fingers found the way through the slit in his boxers, teasing briefly over hard, flushed skin before pulling his erection free. Aiba’s eyes flashed hungrily, watching his hand slide up and down Sho’s length.
Feeling embarrassed at his exposure, Sho busied himself by getting past the waistband of Aiba’s underwear and taking his cock in hand. His brain shorted out a little at the first contact. Wrapping his fingers around another person’s hard cock was somehow similar and completely different to handling his sown.
Aiba hissed his approval, bucking up into his grip and squeezing a little tighter around Sho, beginning to stroke him in earnest.
Sho fumbled to do the same, pushing Aiba’s waistband away and pulling his erection free. Part of him felt like he ought to be panicking since he’d never touched another man like this before, but Aiba leaned forward to catch his lips again, his hand still sliding up and down and twisting his wrist slightly at the head, and Sho found it surprisingly easy to go with the flow. It was fascinating, actually. Sho delighted in letting his fingers explore, mimicking what Aiba was doing to him or trying what he knew he himself enjoyed. It was a stroke to his ego every time he did something that made Aiba twitch, his calm slowly shaking apart in needy little noises that Sho was all too happy to lap up.
It felt wonderful, but not quite enough. The position was a little awkward, and they kept bumping arms and getting in each other’s way. “Hold on.” Aiba sighed after another collision threw their tempo off. He nudged Sho’s hand aside and shifted his hips a little closer. “I have an idea.”
Sho didn’t know what he’d been expecting when Aiba took them both in the same hand, but he was completely awed by his reaction. Surely being pressed against another man’s erection shouldn’t feel different from contact with a palm or any other hot, firm, skin, and yet if he’d been standing his legs might have given out. It was tight and hot, and slick when Aiba dragged his palm across their heads before sliding back down the shafts. It was so far outside an of Sho’s experiences that there was an air of taboo to the act, and it created an undercurrent of danger only amplified by the semi-public setting of the encounter. Sho gasped into Aiba’s mouth, arching up against him and into his grip, and Aiba groaned, nipping at his lips and panting as he picked up the pace.
As they hurtled towards the end Sho’s mind started shorting out, overcome by sensation, and all that existed was the bow of Aiba’s lithe body stretched over him, the sweat beading and shining on his skin in the dim light, pupils blown wide and hungry, black eating up and leaving only a tiny sliver of golden brown. His lips were red and wet, still dragging deep desperate kisses from Sho’s mouth despite their mutual labored breathing. He was beautiful. Debauched and disheveled, but sinfully, heart-wrenchingly beautiful. With a swell of emotion and heat Sho was coming unraveled, falling apart at the seams with a choked sound and a full-body shudder. Through the whiteout of his vision he saw Aiba follow a few strokes later, eyes wide and mouth falling open in soundless surprise, as if his orgasm had struck out of nowhere and caught him off guard. “Masaki.” Sho breathed like a prayer as the tremors slowly subsided.
He tensed against him for a moment in surprise before melting; pressing several affectionate kisses to Sho’s neck before catching his lips for a longer, languorous, tangle. They both sighed when they parted. Masaki shifted to one side as they both settled warm and boneless against each other.
As the blood rushing in his ears slowed and quieted, Sho found himself sleepily marveling at the strange cocoon they found themselves in. The rain was pummeling down on the truck, drowning out the rest of the world and completely distorting the view through the windshield. The shifting rivulets of water on the glass cast strange patterns of light and shadow in the semi-darkness of the truck cab. It was peaceful in a manner that made Sho’s heart ache a little, in the best possible way, and as Masaki’s breathing slowed, puffing hot and even against his neck, Sho turned his head to bury his nose in Masaki’s wild hair and let his eyes fall closed. He succumbed easily to the pull of sleep.
+++
CONTINUED HERE