It’s a strange thing, Tooru thinks, to be held so close that he feels every breath Wakatoshi takes, and to still feel as though they’re oceans apart.
It’s clear in the way Wakatoshi looks at him when he thinks Tooru isn’t aware of the eyes tracing his silhouette.
He thinks that Tooru will leave. After three months of seeing each other, Wakatoshi is still waiting for the other shoe to drop.
Tooru isn’t about to pretend that he’s a verbally direct person, but he’s never let that get in the way of expressing his affection.
He reaches for Wakatoshi’s hand every chance he gets. He had been the one to initiate their first kiss, and he always pecks Wakatoshi on the cheek before either of them leave their dorm rooms. He even demands that Wakatoshi embrace him while they sleep.
Did Wakatoshi not pay attention?
Did their rocky history make him hesitant? They worked through that in their junior year, didn’t they?
Tooru resists the urge to let out a childish grumble, just as an errant thought gives him pause.
Perhaps… Wakatoshi had simply been waiting for words that haven’t come. For the words that had been absent in lieu of action. The clear, undisputable reassurance that he’d yet to hear from Tooru’s mouth: I am here to stay.
Tooru stills.
He can’t believe it has taken him this long to figure this out.
He turns in Wakatoshi’s arms, who regards him with a look of surprise, which gives way to confusion when Tooru frames his face with his hands. Delicate, determined.
“I’m not leaving,” Tooru declares.
Wakatoshi frowns, groggily asks, “What?”
Tooru sighs and reaches for one of Wakatoshi’s hands before placing it atop his chest, right over where his heart beats.
Realization dawns on the face it beats for, and Tooru decides the look of wonder on Wakatoshi’s face is well worth the embarrassment
that comes with having done such a cheesy gesture.
“Don’t you get it?” he asks, cheeks and ears warm. “I like you. A lot. You /must/ know that by now.”
Wakatoshi slowly smiles, and he opens his mouth, then he thinks better of it. He leans forward, captures Tooru’s lips in a tender kiss, and Tooru can taste it on his tongue, the unspoken, “I like you, too.”
Tooru smiles so wide they have to break apart. Thankfully, Wakatoshi is nothing if not persistent, and he presses soft kisses all over Tooru’s face, expressing his affection in the language Tooru knows best.
For good measure, Wakatoshi says, “I like you, Tooru.” His olive-green eyes warm, so warm.
Tooru kisses him again.
That night, they fall asleep in each other’s arms, sent to slumber by the rhythm of their hearts, now closer than ever before.
• • •
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Oikawa as the Boy Who Wouldn’t Grow Up, and Ushijima who stumbles into Neverland on one strange, unforgettable night.
“Do you believe in magic?”
Ushijima frowns, shakes his head.
Oikawa laughs, proud and pretty.
“Let me prove you wrong, then.”
Oikawa takes Ushijima’s hand in his, small and warm, grip gentle but firm. Bathed in something luminous that Sugawara had called pixie dust, Ushijima and Oikawa start to float, ascending into the moonlit sky slowly but surely, as if they weighed no more than a feather.
Ushijima doesn’t know what to say; things like this only happened in the films his mother sometimes permitted him to watch. Everything about this—this island, this boy—defies logic. But instead of fear, something softer, more tender unfurls in his chest as he gazes at Oikawa,
Wakatoshi has known the realities of arranged marriages from a tender age. His parents’ marriage, as loveless as it is enduring, is one of convenience.
That’s why, when it was decided that Wakatoshi would marry Tooru,
a prince from the House of Aoba Johsai, Wakatoshi knew, more or less, what to expect. He’d been prepared for this. He must be strong for it would be a marriage that is cold, lonesome, and unhappy; they would be partners, but only in the most detached, distant sense.
Except, when Wakatoshi saw Tooru enter the House of Shiratorizawa for the first time, dressed in a variance of blue and green fabrics, smiling at Wakatoshi’s parents like Tooru had known them his whole life,
Wakatoshi is hardly the sentimental sort of fellow, but he can never forget the first time he fucked Tooru. It’s easy to remember, to be taken back to that moment, because Tooru still feels as tight as the first time Wakatoshi had taken him.
He doesn’t know how Tooru manages to make the initial slide so satisfying every single time, but Wakatoshi certainly isn’t complaining.
“Tooru,” he groans when he bottoms out, which always requires a moment of pause.
It’s during this time that he collects himself, reminds himself that he will make his lover cum before he does, because Wakatoshi is a gentleman, after all. It’s a moment of adjustment for Tooru, too,
Wakatoshi is much bigger than every single one of Tooru’s past lovers.
He’s long enough that Tooru feels him in the back of his throat before he even bottoms out, thick enough that Tooru has to use both hands to completely encircle his girth.
Tooru’s mouth stretches obscenely, enveloping as much of Wakatoshi’s cock as he can. And when he smiles, he knows he looks a little insane, debauched, disgusting with how much spit spills from his lips, but he knows, by the way Wakatoshi’s cock quivers, that Wakatoshi /likes/ it.
Ushijima, arranged to be married to a woman he barely knows, meets stunning and single Oikawa, their wedding planner.
The attraction is instant. It’s dangerous, like a lit matchstick in a forest.
To his credit, Oikawa keeps his distance. There is always space between them. But his glances, brief as they are, linger like the touch of a hand that Ushijima aches to hold.
His fiancée and Oikawa are both strangers to him, but Ushijima can see himself loving only one, and it is the person he cannot have.
Wakatoshi’s self-control is slipping, and Tooru is to blame.
“Toshi-nii, you feel so /good/,” Tooru moans as he rolls his hips in fervent, fluid motions that have the older alpha groaning.
Here’s the thing. Wakatoshi had always been protective of Tooru. When they were younger, he found himself playing the part of the knight in shining armor, even when Tooru himself was no delicate princeling and was capable of fighting (and starting) his own battles.
It didn’t matter that Tooru had an older sister who was just as protective. Wakatoshi made it his job to make sure Tooru was happy and unharmed.