Work Text:
"Hey," Nezumi greets, looking up from his book. He's sprawled on Shion's couch, legs crossed at the ankle. There's a mug on the coffee table, probably filled with something that's been cold for a couple hours. His ponytail is a little askew from being pressed into the couch's sidearm.
It shouldn't make Shion's heart leap for his throat, but leap his heart does. Nezumi is here. They kissed for the third time one week and three days ago. It's four o'clock in the afternoon in the city Shion is helping rebuild and redirect, and every cell in Shion's body thrums with love in a way he'd previously thought only could happen in books.
"Hi," he says. He takes off his shoes and places them neatly next to Nezumi's perennial boots. They're far too warm for the early summer weather the city's having, Shion realizes, and mentally adds footwear to the list of things Nezumi should consider shopping for.
Shion tries not to hold his breath when he walks over into the living room, towards Nezumi's reclining form, but it's quite impossible. He inhales again only when Nezumi draws up his feet, presumably to make room on the couch.
"I'm in the middle of a chapter," Nezumi explains, as Shion sits down. He lifts the book up a little so Shion can decipher the text on the spine: The Picture of Dorian Gray. Good; Shion's read that one. "But if you're very quiet and very good, you can stay here while I finish."
"Okay," Shion agrees. He pulls his feet up onto the couch and shuffles a little bit over to lean into Nezumi's space, between his legs and the back of the couch. Nezumi's eyes don't shift from the pages of his book. Shion sits in watchful silence for a few minutes. He wants to ask how many more pages are left in the chapter, and if Nezumi would mind if Shion were to—
Nezumi snaps the book shut with a clap. Shion doesn't startle because he'd been watching closely enough to see it coming. Nezumi slides the book onto the coffee table, and finds Shion's gaze.
"I hope there's some point to all that staring," he says. "I'd hate to have stopped three paragraphs before the end of the chapter for nothing but your weirdness."
"You do a lot of things for nothing but my weirdness," Shion notes, boldly. Nezumi lets one arm drape over the top of the couch, drumming his fingers lazily, clearly unmoved to comment. "Hey, Nezumi."
"Yeah?"
"Can we – kiss," he manages. Nezumi's mouth quirks.
"His Majesty's manners just don't quit, do they." Shion doesn't know if it's manners so much as not knowing how else to go about it, but that's probably no secret to Nezumi. "You don't have to announce yourself, you know."
"How else will you know," wonders Shion. He's fiddling with the hem of his t-shirt, feeling self-conscious. Nezumi sighs and picks his legs up, dropping them neatly atop Shion's lap.
"I'll know," Nezumi says. "Why else do you think I put down my book? Come here."
Shion does, but it's sort of awkward because he has to lean one arm into the couch for balance and not twist too much so Nezumi's legs don't fall and he doesn't know if it's fine to brace a hand against Nezumi's chest or if that'll be uncomfortable and—
"Shion." Nezumi's clearly fighting down a laugh. "Stop fussing and let me sort you out."
"I'm not fussing," Shion protests, as Nezumi rearranges their limbs and shimmies down the couch until they're both mostly horizontal, legs scissored and Nezumi's knees bent so he fits on the couch. "Where do I put my—"
Nezumi takes one of his hands, looking him in the eye as if to say, 'like so', and places it snugly over Nezumi's waist, low enough for Shion's thumb to graze his hipbone. The other arm stays bent and pressed against Nezumi's upper arm for balance.
"There you go," Nezumi murmurs. He wraps his arms around Shion's back as though to conclude his demonstration. "Feel free to innovate as it occurs to you."
Innovating can come later, Shion thinks. Kissing needs to come now. Fortunately, Nezumi is of a similar mind.
"Mnnf," says Nezumi, all too quickly. Shion pulls his head up, breathless but not half as much as Nezumi.
"Did I do something wrong?" Shion frowns. He'd like to think he's getting the hang of kissing, but maybe not, judging from Nezumi's expression.
"Oh, just a little thing," Nezumi replies, voice pitched to a demure falsetto. He switches it off abruptly. "Like not letting me breathe."
"Right," Shion exhales, determinedly. "Should I pull away after, well, how many seconds sounds good to you?"
Nezumi breaks into another laugh. Even when it's directed at him, Shion thrills at the sound of it.
"I'll show you," Nezumi grins. He disentangles his arms so he can cup Shion's head with both hands. "Again."
"Yes please," Shion can't help but agree, which makes Nezumi hum as he meets Shion's mouth. This time, Shion lets Nezumi's hands tilt his head, one side to the other, until Shion gets the rhythm of it and the hands resettle at his nape and shoulder instead. It's a much better system than holding his breath and inhaling somewhat frantically through his nose, Shion realizes. When they pause, he finds it necessary to tell Nezumi, "I'm really glad you're good at this."
Nezumi's left eyebrow perks in amusement.
"How do people even figure this out," Shion wonders aloud, setting his chin on Nezumi's chest. "Do some couples just settle for kissing terribly forever? It doesn't seem all that intuitive to me."
"That's because you're overthinking it all the time," Nezumi tells him. He ruffles the hair at the back of Shion's head affectionately. "Stop letting your brain override your biology and you'd have it a lot easier. I'd have it a lot easier, more importantly."
"My brain is part of my biology, though."
"You know what I mean, you literalist." Shion does, but he's never been good at not thinking. He sighs at the daunting prospect, which earns him another hair-ruffle. "Hey, it's a fun new learning curve. Steep, just how you like 'em."
"I don't want a learning curve," Shion pouts. "I want—"
"I know," Nezumi says. He's petting Shion's hair with one hand, the other loose against his neck, thumb skimming along his jawline. These touches make Shion want to burrow even closer against Nezumi, although they're already pressed front-to-front. "I know, but I'm saying don't sweat it."
"I'm still going to," sighs Shion. He turns his head to the side, listening to Nezumi's heartbeat and frowning at the change in scenery: the side of the couch has nothing on Nezumi's eyes. "I'm not doing it on purpose."
Nezumi gives his back two impatient thumps, out of nowhere. Shion's head jolts up and he stares at Nezumi, confused.
"It's not sleep on Nezumi the amazing human mattress time," Nezumi informs him, eyes lidded almost enough to hide their grey colour altogether. "It's make out with Nezumi the amazing kisser time."
Shion doesn't have to be told twice.
He doesn't have to be told how to go about kissing Nezumi senseless, either, since it really is easy, once he starts just letting it happen. Nezumi's hands roam his back in patterns Shion can't predict, occasionally venturing down to where Shion thinks his shirt may have ridden up, grazing innocuously against his bare skin.
When Nezumi's breath starts getting short and fast, huffs and pants rather than proper breathing, Shion outright ignores the voice in his head that questions whether that's all right. Shion's heard respiratory distress before. This isn't that, and it seems imperative that they not stop for anything, not when Nezumi is sucking on his lower lip, almost – but not quite – hard enough to hurt.
Nezumi releases his lip then, in favour of meeting Shion open-mouthed, sliding his tongue along Shion's own. Shion makes a muffled sound, encouraging him to deepen the kiss.
Instead, Nezumi makes his own sound in return.
Shion's heard a lot of things come out of Nezumi's mouth. Curses, irritated sighs, sobs, hitched breaths from fatigue, and recently, the quick inhalations and exhalations he adopts when they're kissing.
He has never heard Nezumi make a sound like that, pitched just higher than his natural register, wordless and warm.
Shion's brain shortcircuits, but the rest of him has other plans, mostly his lower half, which bucks against Nezumi's hard enough to bring him to his senses. Some senses more than others. Some senses that are very firmly pressed against—
"Oh!" Shion gasps, feeling his face go warm. He scrambles to sit up, which has the effect of making the state of certain parts of his – their, Shion realizes vaguely – anatomy all the more apparent. "Sorry! Sorry, Nezumi, I—"
"So what have we learned," Nezumi says, evenly. His expression is quite neutral, and he makes no effort to retrieve his hands, splayed comfortably across the tops of Shion's thighs. Shion lets his bewilderment show on his face. "Turn off your brain, and pleasant things happen, you idiot."
Shion's rebooted brain does a quick cycle around the word 'pleasant' and finds it to be accurate. "Oh."
"Now you can either," begins Nezumi, letting his right index finger trace a slow circle on Shion's thigh, "start kissing me again, or we can relocate to more amenable venues."
"What? Go where? Why would we go anywhere?"
Nezumi's look is simultaneously dour and fond. Shion has no idea how he manages to do it and feels, as he occasionally does, severely under-qualified to be in a relationship with an actor.
"I was coyly insinuating that we retire to the royal bedchambers," Nezumi explains, "but insinuation, it seems, requires more blood to His Majesty's brain than is currently being provided."
"I-It's the middle of the afternoon," Shion stammers. "We can't just—"
"Shion," says Nezumi. The tone is predatory and just this side of threatening. "My neck is getting sore and my legs are cramping. Do you want to continue this or don't you."
Nezumi bestows Shion's bottom half with a blatant stare, and Shion has the sense that any argument he'd form would be mitigated by the fact that he's still straddling Nezumi and still flushing with every kind of arousal.
"I do," he concludes, and it takes Nezumi mere seconds to get on his feet and all but topple Shion off the couch in the process.
"Do I have to fetch you," Nezumi drawls, after Shion has risen to stand, somewhat dazedly, by the couch. He looks to the direction of Nezumi's voice. Nezumi himself is slumped against the bedroom's doorway, one hand cradling the doorframe and drumming his fingers along it languidly.
"No," Shion answers, shrilly. Nezumi merely rolls his eyes and disappears into the bedroom, like it's business as usual. Shion takes a deep breath, under auspices of clearing his head a little. This is difficult when his head is full of nothing but Nezumi, making sounds, and Nezumi, just now leaned against the wall, face flushed to the point where he'd probably deny it if Shion mentioned it, expression indolent and intense–
Head entirely not cleared, Shion wobbles his way into the bedroom.
"Are you operating on a time delay, here," Nezumi questions, his manner suggesting profound unconcern. He's supine atop the bed, one hand cradling his head and the other idle on his lower stomach. It's impossible not to stare. "Shit, if I'd known I was going to be expected to exhibit, I'd have worn something a little nicer."
"Huh?" says Shion.
Nezumi's brows disappear under his dark fringe. He laughs, a little premeditated. "You're easy to please."
"No, I," Shion begins, but really he has no idea if he is or isn't, not in the general sense, but who cares about the general sense when there's Nezumi to consider? "Nezumi, you're really beautiful."
"Yeah, and you're really hard," snorts Nezumi, propping himself up on his elbows. He tosses his head back, as though to punctuate. "Tell me more objective truths."
"Who wouldn't be," Shion tells him, finding it now possible to move towards the bed. Nezumi's gaze slides away. "Nezumi."
"Yes," says Nezumi, airily. Shion clambers onto the bed and lets himself drop on his side, facing Nezumi. "You rang."
"I think you're really beautiful," tries Shion, placing a hand over Nezumi's, low on his stomach. "But there are probably more factors than just physical attraction that are provoking my erection—"
"Your foreplay is atrocious," Nezumi comments, but he lowers himself back down, apparently mollified. "You're such a virgin, honestly."
"Well, yes," Shion agrees, without compunction. He lets his eyes go affectedly wide. "I thought you knew?"
"Don't fucking sass me," Nezumi growls, rolling to pin Shion underneath him, a more raw version of the straddling Shion had found himself doing earlier. Shion just laughs. It might not be strictly appropriate while his heart is pounding and arousal is thrumming through each and every vein, but he can't help it. "Shion."
"Yep," Shion giggles. He realizes he's clutched his hands to his own chest, somewhat absurdly, so he moves them to clutch at the front of Nezumi's shirt, instead. Nezumi cocks one eyebrow. "Sorry, do we have to be serious?"
"What have I said," Nezumi whispers, lips ghosting over Shion's, "about turning off," he continues, letting one knee slide out, then the other, the full contact making Shion gasp sharply, "your brain."
When Shion's hips twitch upwards this time, the most he can do is pull at Nezumi's shoulders and let Nezumi's mouth swallow his moan. Somewhere at the back of his (turned off, thank you very much) mind, Shion wonders what he can do to hear that sound again, and the thought keeps him occupied until he notices that Nezumi's hands are deftly tugging his t-shirt up.
"Nezumi," he pants, the name broken up into three separate syllables because its owner keeps kissing him, "wha—"
"'m taking your shirt off," Nezumi mumbles, abandoning Shion's face for his less talkative neck. The scar there sees new purpose as a ready-made trail for kisses to follow. "After that, your pants."
"Oh," says Shion, dizzily. He lifts his arms when it seems appropriate, and thus becomes shirtless. "What about yours?"
"What about them," Nezumi dismisses, briefly glancing down to refer to Shion's beltbuckle, cheek pressing against Shion's bare chest as he does so. The jangle of the belt's metal seems like it comes from very far off. "Plant your feet and tilt your hips up."
Shion does, finding himself very much poorer in clothing for it.
Nezumi's breath whuffs out against Shion's hip, lips grazing against the jut of bone there. This act produces the incongruous effect of bringing Shion's brain back into full processing speed.
"Oh, are you going to perform fellatio on me again?"
Shion can't tell what expression Nezumi is wearing, but he guesses it's not a pleased one, given the way Nezumi shifts his upper half over to the right of Shion's body and thoughtfully deposits his head face-first onto the bed.
"Your brain would make Sun Tzu proud," Nezumi tells the coverlet. "I surrender."
Shion carefully threads his fingers through Nezumi's hair, wary of tangling his ponytail. "Sorry. I was just wondering."
"Yeah, I can see where my intent was ambiguous," Nezumi growls, though it comes out sounding more like a petulant grumble.
"Was?" Shion tries not to sound concerned, and fails dismally. It gets Nezumi to pick up his head again, though, so that's something.
"Under proper encouragement, is," Nezumi replies. He kisses the slight curve of Shion's naked waist, and at Shion's involuntary exhale, looks up abruptly. "Unless that was your polite way of telling me you'd rather I didn't."
Shion snorts. Nezumi's collected expression, however, makes him realize that hadn't been teasing.
"What? No, of course I—" Shion cuts himself off. He gazes down at Nezumi, who has folded both hands tidily over Shion's belly in order to prop his chin atop them. "Nezumi."
"Present."
"Do you—" and here is where being so inexperienced rankles at him. Shion's never been ashamed of it in the general sense, or even hurt by Nezumi's frankly excessive teasing on the subject, but that doesn't mean he enjoys it. Not the way embarrassment and unfamiliarity clog his speech and plunder his already limited vocabulary to the point where Nezumi can't take him seriously and Shion has to plead nerves, when it's no such thing. He swallows. "Do you enjoy that?"
"Having my blowjob prowess dismissed by an airhead who's had, what, the one? Give me a minute, that's a toughie."
"No," sighs Shion, trying not to be irritated or distracted by Nezumi's goading. "Oral sex. Is that something you like to do?"
Nezumi's face is so openly surprised that Shion almost mistakes this, too, for teasing. Almost, were it not for the way Nezumi's fingers curl slightly over the skin of his stomach. His silence propels Shion into speech.
"Because I definitely like it," he explains, like Nezumi hadn't been present for the event, hadn't been the one to give Shion his first blowjob, two nights ago in this very same bed. Like he hadn't allowed himself to be pulled close and spread over Shion like a blanket for those early, dizzying minutes of afterglow, voice warm and laughing in Shion's ear, happy to kiss when Shion had enough breath for it. "And I kind of want you to like it, too."
“How generous do you think I am," Nezumi laughs, at length. "Look. Do you want me to suck you off or not."
"Very much," Shion tells him, softly. "But I want to try, after."
"Ambitious of you," says Nezumi, picking his head up off his hands. The grey of his eyes captivates Shion as effortlessly as it ever does. "Considering how useless you get after you come, though, I won't hold my breath."
Shion feels mortification bloom on his cheeks.
"Not this time," he announces, ignoring Nezumi's snicker. "Really!"
"You've said that for a week now," Nezumi informs him, unnecessarily. "And just when I'd thought that my right hand could finally get a break—"
"Nezumi," Shion hisses, rapidly moving from embarrassment to verge on the border between upset and annoyed. "I've said I'm sorry—"
"You have," Nezumi allows. He glances downwards, and Shion follows his gaze unthinkingly. "And look, your dick is sorry, too."
There's nothing Shion can say to that, especially once Nezumi curls his right hand around the base of the organ in question, giving a relaxed tug. Every single part of him stiffens at once, and when Nezumi laughs, it's entirely affectionate.
"Not that sorry, it seems," he reports, grinning as he splays his other hand over the juncture between hip and thigh. Shion exhales through his nose, clenching and unclenching his hands around the coverlet. He wonders absently if they should get under the sheets, but this is a less pressing concern than the maddening looseness of Nezumi's hand. "Come on, then."
"Whuh," Shion offers. Nezumi licks his lips, and Shion's toes curl.
"A little verbal encouragement is the least you can do, Shion."
"Oh," Shion replies, the vowel having nothing to do with revelation. Nezumi's hand tightens, fractionally. Shion doesn't know the first thing about dirty talk, but he knows he wants more of that pressure, and Nezumi's perfectly shaped mouth, and just more. "Please, Nezumi."
"Hmm," Nezumi concedes, kissing the very tip of Shion's dick and then waiting politely for Shion's drawn-out gasp to subside. His eyes are fixed on Shion's face, the afternoon light painting shadows of his eyelashes. "Pay attention," he instructs, like any other action is possible, "one never knows when this sort of knowledge will come in handy."
Shion opens his mouth, intent on forming some kind of word, but Nezumi beats him to it, silently and with a slow bob of his head, his tongue moving in knowing sweeps and presses that speak a language all their own. It's one Shion's body recognizes, communicating with the surprised, jolting instinct that supersedes all thought and self-awareness.
The pressure of Nezumi's right hand fades out, with languid purpose.
"Oh god," Shion says, faintly, his own voice coming in and out of his hearing like a detuned radio. Shion doesn't know what to do with his hands at the same time as he knows exactly where they should go, fisted in Nezumi's beautiful dark hair.
Nezumi loops both hands underneath Shion's thighs, securing his hold, and takes the cock in his mouth down to the hilt. Shion feels Nezumi hum before he hears it, if he can hear it at all and isn't just imagining it over the sounds he himself is making. Nezumi's hair is in total disarray, the ponytail long lost to Shion's frantic hands, and Shion needs to see it, commit it to visual memory: Nezumi's head bracketed between his clenching, sweat-dotted thighs, the convulsive twitches of his stomach, everything. But it's impossible when his back is caught in a relentless arch that would have him off the bed entirely were it not for the anchor of Nezumi's arms and the set of his own shoulders, tensed in anticipation; when his eyes won't stay open no matter how hard he concentrates.
The orgasm that takes him is nothing like release: every bone in his spine shudders its surrender, all of Shion's nerves crowding and trembling and losing themselves to where Nezumi is, like they know just as well as Shion does that to be elsewhere is quite impossible.
"I love you," Shion moans, unreservedly happy to capitulate, insensate and spent on his bed, Nezumi leisurely pulling up from between his legs.
"You'd better, after all that effort," Nezumi tells him, on his knees and gazing at the headboard uncertainly. It makes Shion remember his earlier intentions to reciprocate, and he takes several deep breaths to slough off the lethargy of his afterglow.
Nezumi watches him sit up, or rather struggle to sit up, looking quite pleased with himself. Shion has no reason to rebuke him for it, leaning forward for a kiss instead, skimming his hands from front to back along Nezumi's waist, underneath his shirt. He wonders how best to go about this, though it's difficult to think and kiss and fend off the more somnolent byproducts of his orgasm all at the same time.
"Nezumi," he says at last, to the corner of Nezumi's mouth, "Please get on your back."
"What," Nezumi snaps, drawing back in a jerky motion. Shion winces.
"That didn't come out right," he amends. He places his hands on either side of Nezumi's face, coaxingly. "I'd just like to do the same for you, if you'd like. Or I'd like to try. If that's all right."
Nezumi's expression shifts into a familiar look, and he shakes his head a little, prompting Shion to drop his hands.
"Your foreplay continues to be terrible. At least you're consistent."
Shion takes this, coupled with Nezumi's put-upon expression, as consent. "Is that why you're still wearing so many clothes?" Nezumi looks at him, blankly. Shion gets the sense that this is probably what it's like for Nezumi, all of the time, and makes a mental note to be more charitable towards Nezumi's irritated comments about his own airheadedness. "Because of my terrible foreplay," he clarifies.
"Look at you, all grown up and using deduction," Nezumi faux-simpers. He fingers the bottom hem of his shirt for several motions longer than necessary before divesting himself of the garment entirely in one quick, utilitarian movement.
All traces of lassitude evaporate from Shion in an instant, leaving him breathless with the burst of adrenaline that floods into him in its wake.
"It's rude to stare," says Nezumi. He tries to run a hand through his hair, grimaces at the immediate snarl that greets the gesture, and gives up. "Also weird given that it's not like you haven't—"
"Shush, Nezumi," interrupts Shion. He takes Nezumi's wrist because he doesn't trust himself with any other body part just yet, tugging on it gently to bring Nezumi towards him. He's not sure how to negotiate Nezumi onto his back from there, or even if he needs to be on his back at all, strictly speaking, but kissing's as good an interim as any.
It turns out that positioning a body that's both in his arms and willing requires very little logistical forethought. Nezumi breaks their kiss when the back of his head hits the mattress, and Shion takes the opportunity to free one hand from behind Nezumi's back and haul a pillow out from underneath the coverlet.
"How fragile do you think I am," Nezumi snorts, eyeing it with a set to his lips that Shion can't quite identify. He draws his head up to let Shion situate the pillow underneath it without another word, all the same.
Pants, Shion lists to himself. Underwear. Then—
"Nezumi," Shion says, picking himself up onto his hands and knees, "do you think I could deep-throat you?"
Nezumi chokes a little. "What?"
"Like what you did for me just now," continues Shion. He doubts it's his terminology that's in question, but clear communication is important, especially when it comes to sex, and especially-especially when it comes to Nezumi. "Take your penis all the way into—"
This time, the choking sound reformulates itself into a laugh halfway through.
"Depends," Nezumi grins. He tucks his hands underneath his head, considering. "How's your gag reflex?"
"A third of the population doesn't even have one at all," Shion informs him. "Did you know that?"
"Lucky them. And are you an illustrious member of that thirty-three-point-three percent?"
"No," admits Shion. He'd tried with his toothbrush yesterday morning and nearly retched into the sink. "But that doesn't mean I can't do it."
"I find it necessary to point out that I don't actually want your puke all over my nether parts," says Nezumi, conversationally. Shion shoots him a look. "Careful where you point that expression, Your Grace."
"Well, how do you do it, then," prompts Shion. Nezumi's rejoining laugh is sincerely amused. "What!"
"Only you," he smiles, "would opt for theoretical knowledge when the chance to get a practical, hands-on lesson is literally beneath your nose."
"Mouth-on," Shion revises, automatically. His embarrassment catches up with him a second after Nezumi starts snickering again. "Nezumi! Honestly, all you want to do is laugh at me—"
"Not true," murmurs Nezumi, all suggestion of laughter erased from his voice and expression. He extracts his hands from underneath the pillow, gently tucking bits of Shion's hair behind his ear. "Not true at all."
Shion's breath hitches. His original plan of divesting Nezumi gets abandoned when the need to kiss overwhelms with its urgency. Shion regrets it only when he finds himself grinding against Nezumi's pants, but then not so much when Nezumi matches his experimental hip roll with one of his own.
"Shion," Nezumi sighs, and it's as close to instruction as Shion feels he's likely to get. He takes his right hand away from the perfect line of Nezumi's jawbone, and slides it down Nezumi's bare chest and stomach, leaving his fingers to verge just beneath the hem of his remaining clothing. "You fucking tease," says Nezumi. There isn't a trace of temper in his voice. "I thought we were clear on the difference between hand and mouth."
"This is foreplay," Shion edifies. Nezumi sucks his right cheek between his teeth in amusement. "I'm trying! It's not like you've been setting a great example, Nezumi."
"A thousand pardons." Shion is sure that Nezumi intended a drawl, but it comes out breathy-sounding and altogether sexier than anything Nezumi could accomplish purposefully. "I'll try to slot in a few milliseconds of foreplay into your twenty seconds of stamina next time."
"Twenty—" Shion sputters, too affronted to continue. He purses his lips, and goes for the zipper and button of Nezumi's pants. The former is easy enough to tug down, but the button keeps eluding his thumb and forefinger. Nezumi doesn't seem to notice, presumably too preoccupied with leaving half a dozen hickeys on Shion's neck. "Nezumi, can you—"
"The shit I do for you," grouches Nezumi. He releases his left hand from its comfortable hold on Shion's shoulder blade, and pops the button with a single, quick motion. Shion very nearly asks him to repeat it, for instructive purposes, but Nezumi tsks at him and grabs at Shion's own hand. "You know how to take off pants, Shion, get with the program."
"Right, sorry," he replies. He raises himself back up onto his knees so he can work with both hands. Nezumi doesn't need to be told to lift his hips. Shion isn't sure if it's proper protocol to pull off both pants and undergarments all in one go, but Nezumi's quiet gasp tells him it's a corner he's not amiss in cutting.
"Nezumi," Shion says, because it's all he can think of, with the person in question naked and flushed and breathing just this side of too fast and oh, Shion realizes, really hard –
Foreplay, he reminds himself, sternly.
This ends in dismal failure when Nezumi has the nerve to grin lazily up at Shion, pushing a tangled section of hair out of his face with an unhurried hand.
"You are a master in the art of staring," Nezumi pronounces. "Truly a leader in the field. But can you save it for—"
"No," Shion interrupts. "I can't. If we're going to be sexually active with each other, I'm going to stare at you a lot. That's just how it is."
The answering eye-roll is relatively subdued, considering. "Oddly absolutist of you."
"I'm discovering my sexuality," Shion grins. He hunkers down onto his belly, and realizes how much he wants to run his tongue over Nezumi's nipple, slide a palm down the bend of his hipbone.
Nezumi's jaw drops, just a little. "Discover it on your own time, Shion."
"You don't want to be involved," Shion asks, not bothering to move his mouth away from Nezumi's nipple as he speaks. He thinks he might like to hear Nezumi's heartbeat, even as his own rises to a faster tempo, so he lets his cheek drop to the warm chest underneath him.
Shion's hand drops lower, too.
"I want," Nezumi breathes, "you to do something with that hand right fucking now."
"Okay," agrees Shion. He's still not quite sure of this part, which is a little stupid when Shion's been applying the very same anatomical principles to himself since puberty. This should be easy, Shion thinks.
"No, faster," Nezumi orders. Not so easy after all, then, Shion concludes. "You're barely moving your hand, how the hell do you jerk off?"
"By thinking of you," Shion answers, without hesitation.
He lifts his cheek up off Nezumi's chest. Nezumi is looking at him, wordless and very still.
Shion wants to kiss him, but more than that, he wants to do something about the hardness pressed into his hand, wants to do what Nezumi does for him so effortlessly.
Judging by the gasp Nezumi makes as Shion moves downwards, letting his lips catch where they please, Nezumi might want that, too.
"You can," Shion wets his lips, "tell me what to do. If I'm not doing it well."
Nezumi doesn't respond, not even when Shion gently laps his tongue along the underside of Nezumi's cock, except to shudder and bunch a hand into Shion's hair. Shion can't help but frown as he concentrates on the next part: it seems an awful long way to go, from the head to the base, where his fingers are still curled round.
"Go slow," Nezumi says, softly. Shion looks up at him. "It helps to swallow, if you need to."
It also helps, Shion discovers, as he takes Nezumi in, when your partner makes noises like that.
He swirls his tongue, experimentally. Nezumi makes it seem easy, but it's actually sort of awkward when there's something occupying most of your mouth. The hand in his hair tightens its grip. He glances up at Nezumi in askance and thus learns that it was incredibly stupid for him to be looking down.
"Yeah," pants Nezumi. Shion sucks as hard as he can, and Nezumi's next breath catches on something more like a keen. "That's—"
"Mm," concurs Shion, closing his eyes in concentration as he bobs his head a little, bracing his free hand on Nezumi's trembling thigh. He misses the way Nezumi throws his head back at that, but not his moan.
Shion can't help but extrapolate from there. He makes deliberate eye contact with Nezumi, though it's a few heady breaths later before he clues in.
"Oh, if you," Nezumi exhales and blinks up at the ceiling before continuing. "If you hum, it – it loosens your throat muscles. And swallow. Don't throw up on me," he adds, with a shadow of his usual acerbity.
Shion frowns at this show of poor faith. Nezumi is too busy trying to settle his breath to pay it any mind, though, which Shion has to admit does a lot to placate his ego.
He runs Nezumi's advice through his head a couple of times, just to be sure, and then he lowers his head, hoping Nezumi won't make any snide comment about his humming ability.
Nezumi doesn't make any comment at all when the tip of his dick hits the back of Shion's throat, at least not one in any language Shion is familiar with. Shion swallows twice before continuing, concentrating on both ignoring and shutting down his gag reflex, but even when he hums and swallows and tries every which neck angle, every added millimeter feels like prolonging the inevitable.
When Shion pulls away, it's not to bask in the glory of having made Nezumi come spectacularly. He doesn't dare look at Nezumi, coughing furiously into the crook of his elbow.
"Sorry," he croaks, giving one last cough before attempting to resettle himself between Nezumi's legs. "I'll try—"
"You don't have to," says Nezumi. He's cupped his hands around Shion's face, preventing him from getting back to the task at hand.
"But you liked it," replies Shion. He tries not to sound desperate but the crease between Nezumi's eyebrows only intensifies. "You made sounds—"
"Whatever," Nezumi dismisses. There's new colour on his cheeks, and he's frowning even more, though he keeps a steady, stubborn gaze on Shion. "You were doing fine before you decided to wage war on your gag reflex."
"Was I," Shion says, pleased. "So I can just—"
"Yes, fuck, how much validation do you need?" snarls Nezumi. He refists his hands in Shion's hair and gives a gentle tug downward. It's not terribly polite, Shion thinks, but to deny Nezumi anything is unthinkable, no matter how rude he's being.
This time, Shion is ready for the feel of Nezumi inside his mouth, the curve and weight and length of him, the way Nezumi's entire body twitches when Shion's tongue presses just so. And when he hollows his cheeks and sucks firmly, he's more than ready to hear Nezumi's voice again, how his moans lilt into a higher octave before breaking into a keen, and how fast and hard his breaths get when he's trying to suppress them.
Shion thinks he could happily listen to this forever, even when his jaw starts to get sore and he starts to wish Nezumi would find his orgasm around now-ish. He repeats the hard sucking Nezumi seems to like, and is rewarded with a full-body tremor and an increasing ache in his jaw. The former is more of an incentive than the latter is a deterrent, so Shion does that a few more times, wincing with the assumption that Nezumi likely won't be in a position to notice it.
He needs to stop making those sorts of assumptions, he realizes a moment later, when Nezumi prods a finger against his jaw and makes him pull away in startled discomfort.
"Shion, if you have a thing for pain—"
"No," Shion all but yelps in embarrassment. "You didn't let me finish, Nezumi."
"Did you want to eat all your meals through a straw? Then by all means," he says, waving a hand in a wobbly arc, "proceed."
"I want you to come," whispers Shion, wretchedly.
"You looking sad won't get me there, I can tell you that much," sighs Nezumi. "C'mere."
"Where 'here'?"
"Here, you mouthbreather," growls Nezumi, gripping Shion around his right elbow and pulling him to lie half on his side, half on top of Nezumi. He slides his hand down to Shion's, and guides it between his legs. "If you please."
Shion pleases very much, truth be told, and it pleases him even more to be close enough now to hear Nezumi's quieter noises, too, and to slip his free arm underneath Nezumi, hand pressed in the dip of his spine, as soon as he arches his back.
Nezumi seems less sure as to where to put his hands. His left clenches and unclenches around Shion's right wrist, but his other arm is stretched out on Shion's other, Nezumi-less side. More to the point, it's not around Shion's shoulders as it should be.
"Nezumi, do you think you could," Shion starts to comment, only he has to stop when Nezumi gasps, all the muscles in his neck going taunt. That's wrong, too, Shion thinks. He appreciates the view, and appreciates being able to kiss Nezumi with one-sided concentration, but he knows he'd like Nezumi nuzzling against Shion's chest a lot more.
Shion is formulating a way of communicating this to Nezumi when he forgets himself and absently rubs his thumb back and forth along the slit of Nezumi's cock.
"Oh fuck, Shion," Nezumi moans, voice tremulous. Every muscle in his body seems to tense up at once, and his back bows into an arch that only releases to let his hips buck senselessly.
It's lovely and intimate and pornographic, and that's all Shion sees of it before Nezumi brings his free arm up across Shion's shoulders and crushes Shion's face into the crook of his neck, where it stays pressed until Nezumi's cries subside and the length in Shion's palm softens.
He releases his grip and lets his hand lie on Nezumi's wet belly. Nezumi only shudders, his pulse going helplessly fast.
They lie together like that for a while, long enough for Shion to begin wondering if Nezumi has fallen asleep, given that the arm around his shoulders seems to remain there only by force of gravity.
He can hear, dimly, the sounds of the wind chime his neighbours across the street hung up over their door last week. It reminds him that it's barely into the early evening, and they can't just go to bed and sleep until morning. Shion feels he should say something – he's not sure what, as it occurs to him that they've never really had a conversation after sex that didn't end with wishing each other goodnight – or at least fetch some tissues.
He clears his throat.
"Did I miss my cue," sighs Nezumi. He lifts his arm off Shion and rolls it out from underneath him, shifting fully to his side. Shion shakes his head silently before realizing Nezumi's eyes are still closed.
"No, I was just wondering if you were awake."
"Not everyone suffers from orgasm-induced narcolepsy like you do, Shion." He opens his eyes so he can roll them demonstratively. "I'm awake. What is it."
It was pointless to protest that there was nothing. "Um. What do we do now?"
"Dunno, write a review?" Nezumi yawns, and Shion feels the warm exhalation against his own chest. "Have a smoke?"
"Nezumi—"
"Well, I don't fucking know," says Nezumi. The note of irritation in his voice causes Shion to look at him in askance. "I'm not an expert in post-coital studies, so sue me."
"Oh," replies Shion. That he and Nezumi share a lack of expertise makes him absurdly happy, and he knows his face shows it when Nezumi snorts in mockery a moment later.
"Whatever," he huffs. Shion pretends not to notice when Nezumi shimmies in a little closer, even when their knees touch and provide tangible evidence. "Your Virginal Highness can pick a conversational topic, if it pleases him."
"Am I still?" Nezumi gives him a look. "A virgin."
"That's between you and your god."
"No, really," Shion persists, warming to the inadvertent subject. "From what I've read, there's no formal consensus when it comes to homosexual—"
"Well, should I get the unicorn and we can find out?" Nezumi proposes, in a wry tone.
"What do unicorns have to do with it," Shion glares, put-out by Nezumi's attempt to change the topic. Nezumi laughs, and pokes him in the ribs. "What!"
"Didn't read any medieval lit in my absence, I see." Shion sighs, with feeling, and makes a mental note to do some reading on mythical beasts. "Does it matter? Do I need to marry you first or something?"
Shion doesn't quite know how to reply, so he picks up one of Nezumi's hands. Nezumi lets him play with his fingers for a moment.
"Is it the learning curve thing," he asks, after Shion stubbornly refuses to meet his gaze. "I'm getting tired of telling you not to worry about that."
"And I'm getting tired," Shion retorts, finding his voice at last, "of you making fun of me for it!"
For a split second, Shion worries he may have genuinely hurt Nezumi's feelings. The next second, however, he's regretting opening his mouth at all, from the way Nezumi is cackling.
"Do you really, honestly think," Nezumi manages, "that all mockery of your person will cease the moment you give it up?"
"No," Shion sulks. "But it'll be one less thing."
"Poor baby." Nezumi pats him on the head with patronizing gentleness. Shion turns his head to try to bite at Nezumi's wrist, but he's too slow. "Mouthy."
"Handsy," Shion replies, looking emphatically at Nezumi's other hand, which has wound itself around Shion's resting forearm. He can't exactly look at the hand that's boldly returned to his head, tangling in his hair, but feels his point is made nonetheless. Nezumi glowers and his hands stay where they are. "Nezumi."
"Shion," Nezumi echoes, with mock solemnity.
"I'm not worried, just for the record."
"Mm," says Nezumi. His eyes drift shut.
Summer is still young, for all the promising warmth of daytime, and Shion's exposed skin is beginning to chill in the coming evening air. He yawns, thinking that maybe they should get up and dress, perhaps start on dinner or debate where to eat out.
Nezumi huddles closer, pressing a thigh between Shion's and giving his hair one last stroke before his hand goes still.
Then again, Shion thinks, those things could wait.