Character/Pairing: Hayashi Matori/Kusumoto Yukito
Summary: One single tweet can change your life.
AN: Set now, Spring 2020, in the very weird world of COVID-19. Matori’s joined the world of social media, his twitter and instagram are amazing and you should go check them out. Matori and Yukito are both ex-Kansai Juniors, so if that somehow bothers you, go ahead and skip this one. Otherwise, have a 6,600-word reunion of my creation. This is absolutely fiction AS FAR AS I KNOW, and I’m not stalking or privy to their social media interactions or potential lack thereof. :P
YukitoKusumoto liked your tweet.
Matori’s only been skimming notifications since he gets so many now, but this one makes his heart slam to a stop. It kicks in again after a moment, beating quadruple time, and Matori struggles to breathe. It’s been years. Years. He should be over this, over him. But just the sight of Kusumoto’s name makes Matori panic, all those old feelings resurfacing in a rush.
Of course he’s on social media, Matori thinks. He should have realized. But he’s so new to it all himself that he hadn’t thought to look for him. To be honest, he’s spent so long trying not to think about Yukito that he probably wouldn’t have gone searching even if it had occurred to him to do so.
He’d liked him for forever, from way before he ever should have, and way after, too. Matori doesn’t want to say he believes in love at first sight. But it was something close to that. The way his heart skipped a beat when he first met Kusumoto, his smile, the curls on his head, his voice when he introduced himself. And then he started dancing, and whatever little feelings had sparked inside Matori gelled into a full-blown fireworks festival, and that was that.
Kusumoto Yukito was way too young, for Matori, or for anyone. And Matori knew it. And so he did nothing. He did nothing when Kusumoto smiled at him, when Kusumoto grabbed his hand to drag him to practice, when Kusumoto looked up at him from where he was stretching on the floor and tilted his head invitingly. To come stretch with him, that’s all. Matori kept those fireworks all inside, sparking and igniting and flying around his stomach and his heart and his brain until he couldn’t think, and even then he managed to contain them.
But a stray spark got away from him here or there as they got older. It got harder and harder to keep them in. When Kusumoto leaned up against Matori’s side in a restaurant and Matori offered him a mouthful of his dinner with a “Say ahh…” because he couldn’t stop himself. When Kusumoto shook his ass at him playfully and Matori slapped it, because he couldn’t stop himself. When Kusumoto invited him to come stay over, and Matori couldn’t say no.
When Kusumoto danced.
On stage or off stage, that was what got to Matori the most. The way Kusumoto moved, of course, but also the way he looked at Matori as he did, the way he caught his eye and held his gaze, the way he smiled at Matori like there was no one else in the world but the two of them. It made Matori love him. He wanted that smile for himself, always. He wanted Kusumoto to always look at him like that, to make Kusumoto laugh, and to make him sigh, and to hold him and protect him, and to love him. But he couldn’t do most of those things, and so Matori contented himself with what he could. He danced with Kusumoto, threw in the little twists and flourishes that he knew amused Kusumoto so much, threw an arm around him on stage so they could round the walkway together, ten thousand fangirls screaming in the background, and smiled a smile only for Kusumoto, to let him know that he cared, even if he couldn’t say it.
And then Kusumoto left, and it broke Matori’s heart.
They hadn’t been friends, exactly. Matori doesn’t know what they were. When Kusumoto stopped coming to work, Matori never saw him again. Matori thought about calling, messaging, something. But what would he even say? Everything they did together, even outside of work, had still revolved around their lives as juniors, somehow. And now, Kusumoto wasn’t one. Would it be okay to just… ask him to hang out, just because? Matori couldn’t think of any good excuses, and then it had been too long, and it was awkward to do anything after all this time and Matori put his phone down and gave up.
And now, Kusumoto’s name is on Matori’s screen. It’s been over five years. And Matori’s reactions are even worse for all that he’s not used to having them anymore. Once he pulls himself together, he clicks onto Kusumoto’s profile. And he sees the pictures. Sees the dance videos. And he puts his phone down, as his eyes blur with the start of tears. Kusumoto is a grown man, and Matori still loves him. He picks the phone back up and watches. Video after video. Of Kusumoto dancing - by himself, with his students. He’s strong, and gorgeous, and perfect. He looks hot as hell and makes Matori want to die, and, before he can overthink it, Matori hits the DM button and sends a single message.
It’s a while before he gets a message back.
Hey. How’s it going?
It’s normal, easy, not at all like they haven’t spoken in half a decade.
Not bad. Stuck at home like everyone, I guess. You? Matori replies.
Yeah, same. Types Kusumoto. Been following your dance vids. Looking good.
Matori’s heart is beating fast as he thumbs the keys.
He explains that he’s been working at home on new choreo for some of the junior groups, catches Kusumoto up on some of the people they both know, keeps it casual. Kusumoto’s not working at the moment since his school is closed under the national emergency orders.
And then suddenly, mid-conversation, a notification from LINE pops up.
Maybe this is easier? the message from Kusumoto says, because he mustn’t have deleted Matori’s contact, and they switch to LINE from there. But it’s only a minute before LINE announces an incoming video call. Matori nearly rejects it in panic, but hits accept because it’s no different than in the past, he can fake being normal around Kusumoto just fine.
“Geez, give a guy some warning, yeah?” He says when Kusumoto appears on the screen.
Kusumoto just grins at him. “What, and give you a chance to think about rejecting me?” he says, entirely too on-the-nose for Matori’s comfort.
“I wouldn’t have,” Matori insists, but Kusumoto smiles knowingly.
“Yeah, sure. So anyway, let’s see some of these moves you’re working on.”
Matori nearly chokes. “What?”
“You said you were working on new choreo. Let’s see it.”
“Now?” Matori asks.
“Yeah, now. Why not? You got something else to do?”
“No, but…” Matori hedges, looking over at his open floor area.
“You have the space, don't you?” Kusumoto says, like he’s reading Matori’s mind. “Come on,” he insists. “I wanna see!”
Matori gives in, because he can’t think of any excuses not to. “Okay…”
It takes a minute to set up his phone in the tripod he uses for filming, especially since his hands are shaking slightly from nerves. At least Kusumoto can’t see that.
His nerves settle once the music is on, because Matori was born to dance and this is where he feels most at home. He runs a new routine he’s been considering for the juniors next show - whenever that ends up being now - and pauses to grab a drink of water before coming back to sit in front of the phone.
“I think it’s great,” Kusumoto tells him.
“Come on,” Matori says. “You’re a professional now. You can give better feedback than that.”
“Mm,” Kusumoto replies. “Okay.”
He details a few sections that he specifically likes, praises the transitions. “The guys are gonna have fun dancing that. And I think the fans will love it. It’s hot.”
Matori doesn’t know how to react to that last statement and just prays he’s not blushing or anything. “What, no suggestions for improvement?” He asks instead.
“No,” Kusumoto replies. “But I guess I’m not a great judge when it comes to you. I always loved your dancing. I always loved dancing with you.”
Matori makes a vague noise, because that’s about all he can manage.
“You were always such a tease,” Kusumoto continues, and he sounds kind of wistful, but the way he’s looking directly into his camera instead of at his screen is screaming things that Matori tries to ignore.
“Only because you were cute when you got flustered,” Matori gets out, and he brain is going no, no, stop it, don’t and it doesn’t help when Kusumoto just smirks and says he thinks he can hold his own these days.
“I doubt I’d get too flustered now,” Kusumoto says. “But I’d be happy for you to try.”
“Yukito…” Matori stops himself before he can say too much, before he can tell Kusumoto just how much he’d liked him back then. Kusumoto might be an adult now, might even be flirting with him, but it doesn’t mean he’s ready for Matori to blurt out some crazy confession after not talking to him for years.
“Yeah?” Kusumoto prompts, and Matori just mumbles something.
“Sorry, I lost my train of thought.”
“Heh, okay.” Kusumoto says, and there’s a pause. “Hey Matori?”
“Let’s talk again soon, yeah?” Kusumoto says, and he’s waving at Matori, and then the call abruptly cuts off. Matori blinks down at his phone, lost.
He’s still staring at it a minute later when a message comes through from Kusumoto instead.
I missed you.
And Matori does that thing he always does where he overthinks everything because he doesn’t know how to take it, or how to answer, and then it’s been too long.
But Kusumoto calls him again a few days later. He doesn’t say anything about his last message, and neither does Matori. They share some choreography ideas, toss some move combinations back and forth, talk about doing a collaboration. It almost feels like old times, but maybe better. Kusumoto’s grown confident in his abilities, and it’s extremely attractive. Matori spends their whole call simmering with nerves. It’s much worse when Kusumoto asks if he can come visit sometime.
“What, like after all this Stay Home stuff is over?” Matori asks, because he doesn’t think Kusumoto is really serious about it.
But Kusumoto is very serious about it. “No,” he clarifies. “Like now. Soon. I haven’t been going anywhere, and neither have you, right? So what if I come crash with you for a bit? It’d be way less boring.”
“Stay here?” Matori gapes.
“Sorry, that’s kind of forward of me to assume I’m welcome,” Kusumoto says. “It’s fine if you don’t want me there.”
“No, no,” Matori rushes to tell him. “You’re welcome! You’re… you’re always welcome here.”
It’s not a great idea, he knows, for so many different reasons, let alone from the whole safety standpoint, but Matori can’t bring himself to disagree. In his heart, he just doesn’t want to.
And so a week later, Kusumoto is standing in his living room, a duffle bag on the floor at his feet, and he’s taller than Matori remembered, more mature and so much more beautiful and…
“You’re staring,” Kusumoto says in amusement.
Matori mentally shakes himself out of it. “Sorry. I’m just-- You’ve just grown a bunch, you know?”
“Yeah, that happens,” Kusumoto laughs. “Come on, let’s dance!”
And so they do. Matori throws on a bunch of old songs. They do some of the classics that all the juniors know, running through a bunch of V6 and Tackey & Tsubasa and then some of their old Kanjani 8 stuff. Neither of them remember half of it and it’s a mess and they’re laughing and messing around like they always did, and Matori can’t help it at all. He turns to Kusumoto and grabs his hips with a smirk.
“But I remember this one pretty well,” he says, sliding down Kusumoto’s body.
He’s fully expecting Kusumoto to laugh and pull him up as always, to push him away. But instead, Kusumoto grabs his shoulders to keep him down, smirking right back, and Matori is so surprised that he loses his balance. He falls backwards, sitting down hard, and Kusumoto kneels right down to follow him.
His smirk softens into a small smile as he looks directly at Matori. “Told you I could keep up,” he says.
And then he’s leaning forward, slowly. Matori freezes, his body still as his brain races through more thoughts than he can consciously track. Should he pull away? He should pull away. Kusumoto is just messing with him. Is Kusumoto just messing with him?
And then Kusumoto closes the distance and kisses him.
It’s everything Matori should never have wanted. All those fireworks he kept locked up for years burst inside him, and he kisses Kusumoto back with more passion than he’s ever felt for anyone. He grabs onto his neck and pulls him closer because he can’t get close enough, clings to him and breaths him in and kisses and kisses and kisses him. He’s got Kusumoto’s curls between his fingers, and Kusumoto is whimpering desperate little sounds against his lips and Matori never wants him to stop.
Breathing is important though, and Matori reluctantly pulls back just enough for air. Kusumoto has his eyes closed, sucking in short little gasps for breath, but then he slowly opens his eyes to look at Matori, and his eyes are so, so dark and Matori can’t breathe at all.
“Matori, I--” His voice catches there, and after a moment, he just leans in to kiss Matori again, and who needs air anyway.
The next time Kusumoto speaks isn’t helping Matori breathe any better.
“Take me to bed?”
Matori manages to find his voice, and as much as it pains him to say it, he doesn’t want things to happen just like this.
“Don’t you think we should talk about this?” he asks gently.
Kusumoto looks down. He’s still breathing hard, but after a moment, he seems to collect himself, and he closes his eyes for a moment before sitting back and finally looking up at Matori again.
“I liked you forever,” he says, and Matori blinks.
“I knew I shouldn’t,” Kusumoto rushes to continue. “I knew you thought of me as a cute younger brother, but you were always so cool and so fun and I loved the way you moved, and I just wanted to be close to you… and then I just wanted you to touch me, and you were always teasing and it was torture and I just--
...I didn’t know what to do about it,” Kusumoto finishes. “I didn’t think you’d take me seriously.”
“Yukito,” Matori breathes. “I always took you seriously.”
They look at each other for a moment, and Matori sees the realization dawning on Kusumoto’s face.
“You were never the younger brother to me,” he explains softly. “I knew I should have thought of you that way, but I never did and it wasn’t okay then and… and then you grew up and maybe it was, but it had been so long I just didn’t know what to do about it either. And then you left.”
“I should have contacted you,” Kusumoto apologizes. “I just felt… like the kouhai with a crush on their unreachable sempai, and it was stupid. I was scared.”
“But now?” Matori asks.
“But now I saw you posting those videos and you haven’t changed at all. And I felt just the same as I always did, and I thought… maybe. I don’t know. I was dumb.”
“You weren’t, though,” Matori points out, because they’re there, together, and he reaches out and takes Kusumoto’s hand in his. “Come on, let’s get off the floor.”
They settle together on his couch instead, and they talk. It feels good to properly catch up, to talk about his time in America, to share pictures and videos. It feels good to hear about Kusumoto’s work and his frustrations with trying to establish himself as an instructor, and how proud he is of his students. They have a lot of time to make up for, but they have that time now.
Matori gives him the bed - he knows from past sleepovers that Kusumoto sleeps sprawled out in a way that won’t work on the couch, but Matori will curl up just fine. He feels weird sharing a bed so fast, and they haven’t quite spoken about what Kusumoto had said earlier.
They settle into a routine together over the next few days. Kusumoto doesn’t have anywhere to be, so they stay, and they eat, and they drink, and they dance. And they kiss, but Matori doesn’t know how to process this all so quickly, and he pulls away before anything gets as intense as that first day. He loves Kusumoto, even more than he used to, which he didn’t think was possible. But he just showed up, back in his life, just like that, and everything is perfect. Does that happen to people?
“You overthink things,” Kusumoto laughs when they take a break from dancing one day. He’s talking about the choreography they’re trying, but Matori feels it’s pretty relevant all around.
“Hey,” says Kusumoto. “Let’s try a throwback. Something familiar for a reset.”
“Okay,” Matori agrees. “What do you wanna do?”
“TORN,” Kusumoto says immediately.
Matori looks at him in surprise. “Have you done that before? I never did. I don’t actually know the choreo.”
Kusumoto shakes his head. “Nah, I never did. But I always wanted to. It’s super hot. Don’t you think?”
Matori isn’t sure where he’s going with this. “Yeah…”
“I’ve watched it a thousand times,” Kusumoto says. “I’ve memorized it. I just never had anyone to do it with, but I can show you.”
And now Matori knows exactly where this is going, and it’s possibly a terrible idea - but screw that kind of thinking, he tells himself. It’s not a bad idea anymore. There’s no reason for it to be. They’re grown adults with their own lives and their own places and…
“Yeah, okay. Teach me.”
And Matori knew exactly what he was getting into when he said yes, and he knew just how much touching the dance involved, and it gets to him just as much as he expected. Kusumoto wasn’t wrong when he said it’s a hot dance. He’s trying to focus on the moves, but Kusumoto’s hands are on his abdomen, and on his hips, and then he’s crawling across the floor toward Matori on his knees… there’s no way Matori isn’t getting turned on by it. But he just keeps going. He interlocks their fingers and pulls Kusumoto into his arms, he spins and presses his back against Kusumoto’s chest, and then Kusumoto is leaning in to press his nose to Matori’s neck and that’s all he can stand. He relaxes back against Kusumoto and lets out a soft moan. Kusumoto switches to kissing below his ear and Matori shivers.
“Told you it’s hot,” Kusumoto mumbles against his skin, and Matori reaches back to get a hand in his hair.
“I never disagreed,” he points out, and then he pulls Kusumoto into a kiss.
He’s not out of breath from dancing at all, but Kusumoto’s kiss takes him there quickly. There’s just something about him, about the way he presses his mouth to Matori’s, fierce and wanting one moment, and then light and fleeting the next. It’s like he’s trying to draw Matori in, enticing, and it’s working. It only takes until his hands slide down to Matori’s hips for Matori to open his mouth on a sigh, and then Kusumoto takes full advantage.
Matori lets him.
Kusumoto licks at him, wet and hot, and Matori feels that all the way down to his cock, twitching at the way Kusumoto’s tongue strokes against his own. Matori sucks on his tongue until Kusumoto groans, fingers tightening on Matori’s hips.
Matori doesn’t want to stop kissing Kusumoto, but his neck is starting to hurt from trying to keep it up over his shoulder, so he spins around and wraps his arms around Kusumoto’s neck instead. So much more comfortable. And, when Kusumoto pulls him in by the hips so that they’re pressed together all the way down, so much hotter. He can feel exactly how hard Kusumoto is against him and it turns him on that much more. He groans his approval into Kusumoto’s mouth.
He thinks he’s gone a little too far when Kusumoto pulls back, but it’s only to repeat his words from earlier in the week.
“Now take me to bed?” Kusumoto tries, and this time Matori won’t refuse him.
Matori strips quickly when they reach the bedroom. He’s too used to communal dressing rooms and quick costume changes from years of work, and the idea of a slow reveal doesn’t do much for him. But when he turns around, Kusumoto is still only half out of his clothes, and seems to have gotten distracted by Matori in the middle. His eyes are taking in everything, and he reaches out to run his hands down Matori’s sides. Matori laughs lightly.
“It’s nothing you haven’t seen before.”
“I know,” Kusumoto says softly, almost in awe. “But I’ve always wanted to be able to touch you. I could never do that before.”
His hands are running gentle strokes up and down Matori’s sides, thumbing his hip bones, sliding around to feel the muscles of his back. Matori stands still and lets him, as much as he wants to move things along. He contents himself with undressing Kusumoto, slipping his fingers under the elastic of his track bottoms and slipping them down. Kusumoto barely seems to notice. He steps out of them almost absentmindedly, still focused on touching the contours of Matori’s body.
Matori takes him by the hand and pulls him onto the bed. He lets Kusumoto push him down, content to lean back and let him continue his exploration. His fingers feel amazing everywhere they touch. Matori’s never had such an attentive lover before - not someone like this. Kusumoto touches him like he’s memorizing him, like he wants to understand every inch of him, mesmerized by his body and not interested in some sort of perfunctory foreplay. But it’s definitely working that way for Matori, especially as Kusumoto adds his mouth to the effort, mapping Matori’s muscles with his lips and his tongue, kissing, licking. Matori’s nearly ready to jump out of his skin from all the sensations by the time Kusumoto looks up at him from where he’s sucking a mark on the inside of Matori’s thigh.
“Let me taste you?” Kusumoto asks, and Matori can’t nod fast enough.
Kusumoto grins and leans in to lick at him, watching Matori’s reactions, and oh, he definitely knows what he’s doing. Matori doesn’t ask, doesn’t want to know, but he’s a little bit grateful that Kusumoto isn’t new to this. He wasn’t sure what to expect. But clearly what he should have expected was for Kusumoto to know how to do things with his tongue. Matori breathes out hard and grabs for Kusumoto’s head, trying not to pull his hair but needing something, anything…
Kusumoto lifts his head at the touch.
“Good?” he asks.
“Fuck, Yukito,” is all Matori can say.
“I’ll take that as a yes,” Kusumoto says, sounding pleased, and then he returns to his ministrations. He can fit almost all of Matori’s cock in his mouth, which is impressive to start with, but then he does something with his tongue that makes Matori see stars. He has to pull him off before he gets too serious with it.
“Yukito, stop,” Matori gasps. “Definitely not gonna last if you keep doing that.”
Kusumoto uses his hand while he talks instead, lazy strokes up and down, not helping the situation at all.
“That’s okay. I said I wanted to taste you.”
“But…” Matori isn’t sure how to ask what he wants to. He doesn’t want this to be over yet, if blowjobs are all they’re going for.
Kusumoto sees the hesitation on his face. “Will you not be up for more if I make you come like this?”
Fuck. Just hearing him talk like that brings Matori closer than he’d like. Okay, so not just blowjobs then.
“Never mind,” he manages. “I thought… I didn’t think… shit, I can’t think when you’re doing that.” Matori lets his head drop back. He can already feel himself trembling, and he knows it won’t take long.
“Just-- don’t stop,” he tells Kusumoto. He tries his best to lift his head and watch, because it’s hot as anything watching Kusumoto slide his mouth over him, his hair falling in his eyes as he watches Matori back. But it’s only another minute before he gives up, struggling to breathe as he fights the urge to thrust up into Kusumoto’s mouth. “So close,” he gasps, and Kusumoto just hums in acknowledgment, not slowing one bit. He ignores Matori’s pointed tugs to his hair, and then Matori is tensing all over, pouring himself over Kusumoto’s tongue. He stammers some sort of wordless apology, but Kusumoto just sucks him back in, licking everything clean and making Matori shiver with aftershocks.
“Sorry,” Matori says more coherently once he catches his breath. Kusumoto is stretched out along his side, his cock hard against Matori’s thigh, but he’s only dragging his fingers in lazy circles across Matori’s stomach.
“Sorry for what?” he asks, look up at him. “For letting me do exactly what I wanted to?”
Kusumoto smiles and leans up to kiss Matori. His smile is more sly when he pulls away. “Tell you a secret?”
Matori looks at him expectantly.
“I’m super demanding,” Kusumoto confides. “I want what I want, and I expect you to give it to me. I hope you’re okay with that.” He grins like he knows Matori is.
“What is it that you want?” Matori asks.
“You,” Kusumoto says simply, and there goes Matori’s heart skipping beats again.
“Or more specifically right now, your cock,” Kusumoto says, palming him, and Matori chuckles.
“It’s gonna take me a few minutes, you know,” he reminds him.
Kusumoto shrugs. “You’ve got time. You’ve got to get me ready, after all.” He pauses at that. “You’re… okay doing that, right?” He asks Matori, looking unsure for a moment.
“I’m very okay with that,” Matori reassures him, and smoothes a hand down his hip to give Kusumoto a few strokes of his own. “Here, shift up a bit.”
He’s tight when Matori gets a finger into him, but he breathes into it like he’s used to it, and Matori doesn’t worry. It’s only a short while before Kusumoto nods at him to add another. Matori can feel the way he relaxes around him even as Matori stretches him open, stroking inside him until he sighs.
“Mm. That feels so good,” Kusumoto tells him. “So much better than when I do it.”
Matori tries not to think too hard about that right now, but he’s already promising himself to convince Kusumoto to let him watch him someday soon. Not that it’ll take much convincing, he mentally amends, based on Kusumoto’s reactions.
“I used to think about you, back then,” Kusumoto continues. His eyes are closed. “For years. You were all I thought about when I touched myself.”
Matori pauses for a moment and has to close his eyes as well. That’s hot as anything. He opens his eyes when Kusumoto calls his name.
“Did you?” he asks. “Think of me?”
Matori shakes his head and gets back to work. “I wouldn’t let myself. I felt too guilty.”
“I wasn’t always a kid, you know. I was over twenty the last time I saw you!” Kusumoto insists.
“I know. But it just felt like a betrayal of our friendship, somehow,” Matori explains.
“Oh, so I’m the jerk who betrayed our friendship then?”
“I didn’t say that,” Matori replies, twisting his fingers pointedly and making Kusumoto curse and clutch the sheets. “Are you ready yet?”
Kusumoto laughs breathlessly. “Yeah, for a bit. Just wanted to see how badly you could want me.”
Matori removes his fingers and pushes Kusumoto’s legs wider, but pauses to look up at him. “You know, I can’t tell if that’s more S or M or whatever. There’s something wrong with you,” he teases.
“You’ve just kept me waiting too long, is all,” Kusumoto replies, and Matori doesn’t know if he means right now or in general, but he doesn’t stop to ask. He won’t keep him waiting any longer.
Kusumoto feels amazing as Matori slides into him, long and slow, and he’s trembling, but the look on his face tells Matori that it’s not from pain.
Matori stretches out on top of him, but Kusumoto’s got his head thrown back, a look of pure ecstasy written across his face and Matori likes the way that looks too much to pull him up for a kiss. He settles for pressing his nose to Kusumoto’s throat instead, breathing in the scent of him as they move together.
Matori keeps it slow at first. He likes the closeness of it, the way Kusumoto holds him, his hands in his hair and on his back, constantly shifting and moving like Kusumoto wants to touch all of him at the same time. He likes the way he sounds, soft little gasps, but they’re so quiet, so intimate. It’s like they’re just for him, so close that he can hear them. Matori finds it fascinating. He thrusts harder, listening carefully as Kusumoto’s breathing grows more ragged, sharper gasps, and finally, when Matori sucks lightly on the skin of his throat, a quiet moan.
His skin is slick with their sweat, and Matori holds him tight as he gets his knees under himself, pulling Kusumoto into his thrusts more firmly. He sits up for better leverage, and if it means Kusumoto can no longer reach him, Matori’s okay with it, because instead he can watch as Kusumoto scrabbles for a hold on anything else, his hands curling and uncurling desperately against the sheets, and Matori finds that just as erotic as the way he has his head tossed back, hair messy and mouth open and--
“Fuck, why do you look this good?” Matori can’t help saying out loud.
He can feel Kusumoto shake briefly with laughter beneath him. “Because that’s how you make me feel,” Kusumoto replies, and it’s maybe the cheesiest thing anyone’s ever said to Matori and he loves it. He loves it, and he loves him, and he just wants to make Kusumoto fall apart entirely. Matori fucks him harder, and harder, until Kusumoto is sliding against his sheets, whimpers escaping on every other breath. Until he says Matori’s name, pleading.
Matori hitches Kusumoto’s hips up higher, leans down harder, fucks him faster. “Come for me,” he tells him, and he wants to see him more than anything.
Kusumoto immediately reaches down and strokes himself quickly, back arching as he finally cries out softly. He tightens around Matori until he can barely move, and then he freezes, tense all over for a long moment before he spills over his fingers, a long, shaky sigh and a blissful smile on his face. He goes limp against the sheets nearly immediately, although his body is still clenching in waves around Matori’s dick as he opens his eyes to look at him.
“Come on,” he whispers, and that smile. That smile that says he trusts him, and wants him, Matori would do anything for him to keep looking at him like that always.
He plants his knees and lets himself go, lets himself get lost in Kusumoto entirely, and when he’s semi-coherent again, his head is pillowed on Kusumoto’s chest and Kusumoto is running gentle fingers through his hair. Matori reaches up to take his hand, entwining their fingers, and leans up to kiss him. Kusumoto’s other hand comes up to weave through his hair instead, holding him close.
“Finally,” Kusumoto whispers, and it’s so soft, barely enough to hear if Matori weren’t close enough to feel the words against his lips.
He pulls back to look at him properly. “Hmm?”
Kusumoto just relaxes back against the bed and smiles. “You know,” he says, a normal speaking voice finally, and Matori gets distracted thinking about how nice he sounds, again.
“...for over half our lives,” Kusumoto is saying when Matori focuses. “And finally, everything just feels right. You know?” He looks happy.
Matori nods. He knows. He’s had other relationships. Some of them were good. Most of them, even. But none of them were this. None of them were Kusumoto.
No one has ever looked at him the way Kusumoto does - the way he always has.
Matori flops back down into Kusumoto’s arms and holds him tight. He’s not ready to let go of this.
“We should get up,” Kusumoto says eventually. He’s nudging at Matori’s shoulder, and Matori knows they’re both pretty gross right now. He’s okay being gross with Kusumoto.
But a shower does admittedly feel pretty good he thinks, once the hot water is coursing down his back and he can watch Kusumoto scrunch his face against the water getting in his eyes. It’s cute.
Kusumoto’s hands are soft against his skin, slippery with soap that’s entirely an excuse for lots more touching, and Matori wouldn’t have it any other way. Kusumoto slides his hands around Matori’s sides, along his back, and down to his ass. He pulls him closer and Matori gives in easily when Kusumoto leans in to kiss him, wrapping his arms around Kusumoto’s neck to keep him there. Matori smiles against his mouth when he feels Kusumoto already hardening against him.
“Oh, I like that,” he murmurs, nudging forward with his hips so Kusumoto knows what he means.
“You’re one ahead of me,” Kusumoto tells him without a hint of embarrassment. “I think I’m allowed.”
He grins as he slips fingers down to rub lightly across Matori’s hole. Matori just tightens his arms around Kusumoto’s neck for balance.
“No arguments?” Kusumoto confirms, and Matori just reminds him of what he’d said earlier. “You know I was just kidding.”
“Even if you were, I’m pretty open to any of your demands,” Matori assures him. The way Kusumoto is still rubbing at him makes his current demands pretty clear, and they suit Matori just fine. He leans in to kiss him again, clinging harder as Kusumoto slips the tip of his finger inside him and makes Matori’s knees go momentarily weak.
Kusumoto’s fingers feel fantastic inside him, heat curling low wherever Kusumoto touches and flaring out in waves to make Matori shake. The stretch and burn of it sets Matori on fire, and he wants more, deeper, wants Kusumoto to fill him so completely that he’ll keep feeling it for days.
“Do me now,” he whispers into Kusumoto’s mouth, and at first he doesn’t think he heard him. Kusumoto just kisses him harder, fingers him harder, and Matori trembles. But then Kusumoto is pulling his fingers from Matori. Soap won’t quite cut it for this, and Matori hands him the supplies he’s brought in. Kusumoto doesn’t ask why he has shower-safe stuff, just accepts it without comment and pushes Matori forward until his hands are flat on the wall.
“I’d say hold on to something, but…” Kusumoto warns him, and Matori braces himself as best he can as Kusumoto curls against his back. He pushes in smoothly, fingers tight on Matori’s hips, and Matori doesn’t know which feels better - the way Kusumoto fills him, or how secure he feels in Kusumoto’s hands as he does it. The hot water falls along his back, running down to where their hips are pressed together, and Matori sighs as Kusumoto runs a hand down his back to follow it. He moves slowly, shallow thrusts at first, like he’s making sure Matori has his balance. But they’re both dancers, and they have great balance, and it’s not long before his thrusts hit Matori hard enough to lift him onto his toes.
Each stroke feels like white hot fire racing along Matori’s spine. He’s louder than Kusumoto was for sure, each sound pulled from his throat involuntarily and he can’t do anything to stop them. He drops his head and water runs into his face and his brain won’t focus enough for him to do anything but splutter against it, too focused on the fireworks Kusumoto is lighting inside of him.
But Kusumoto notices and wraps an arm around Matori, pulls him back and up so that he’s pressed against Kusumoto’s chest, the water hitting his front and running down his abs, running down around his cock and even that feels so good. And then Kusumoto grabs his chin, pulls his head back away from the spray, tucks his head against his shoulder, and his fingers are right there. Matori’s mouth is already open on a moan, and he flicks his tongue out to lick him, and Kusumoto echoes his groan as Matori sucks his fingers in and Kusumoto fucks him harder.
Matori is so close. Kusumoto is pressed all against him, so hard inside of him, and then his hand slides down to cup Matori’s balls and Matori can’t help it. He groans desperately against Kusumoto’s fingers on his tongue, reaches back to grab as much as he can, hands slipping against Kusumoto’s wet skin, and then Kusumoto’s hand is tightening on his cock and Matori cries out. Those fireworks explode inside him, racing along his nerves, flashing behind his closed eyelids and he shakes in Kusumoto’s arms, coming hard as Kusumoto works him through it.
He slumps to his knees almost immediately, and Kusumoto thoughtfully redirects the shower spray before sinking down with him. He pulls him in close, stroking Matori’s arms and chest and waiting for his shivering to subside.
“You okay?” he asks quietly.
“Yeah,” Matori manages. “God, that was…” His brain isn’t working enough for him to finish the thought, but he’s pretty sure Kusumoto gets the point.
“You’re so fucking hot,” Kusumoto tells him, and Matori realizes that he’s still hard against his ass.
“And you’re so fucking hard,” he quips back, and Kusumoto doesn’t stop him when he pulls him to his feet and back under the spray. He turns Kusumoto around, a mirror of their earlier positions, and wraps his arms around him, chin tucked against Kusumoto’s shoulder so he can tell him just how good he feels as he pulls him off. Kusumoto only holds out another minute before he spills himself across Matori’s fingers.
“Looks so good, Yukito,” Matori murmurs, and Kusumoto spins around to kiss him, breathless, not even waiting for the water to wash everything away.
Matori eventually manages to get them cleaned up and dried off, even if Kusumoto is less than cooperative and Matori gives in to his kisses every thirty seconds. It’s so good, and so new, and at the same time so old, something he’s wanted forever, and he’s going to indulge it. For Kusumoto’s sake, and for his own. He never imagined the day would come when he could pull Kusumoto into his arms, and hold him, and touch him, and Kusumoto would just smile at him and hold him back.
But that day is here, and now, and although it’s been a long time coming, it was absolutely worth the wait. Matori settles onto his couch, his arm around Kusumoto’s shoulders, and feels that low happy fizz of firework fuses, and knows that from now on, Kusumoto is going to keep setting them off inside of him, his own personal festival, celebrating the fact that they’ve found each other once again.