Levels of Trust

It began with a blowjob. Shuuichi’s mouth wrapped around the head, tonguing the slit as his fingers slid along the sensitive skin behind Eiri’s balls. Eiri groaned, pushing his head back into the pillow and trying hard not to grab Shuuichi’s hair, because the singer hated that and it always meant having a blowjob cut short as the idiot whined. Shuuichi’s fingers were sliding gently over his balls, fondling them as he licked his way down Eiri’s erection. Eiri found himself focussing on those fingers, sliding ever so gently along the skin between his legs, down, down, circling— Eiri grabbed Shuuichi’s hair and levered the young man off him. Shuuichi opened his mouth to protest, and Eiri cut him off with a glare. “No.” Shuuichi closed his mouth, face falling a little, and lowered his head back to Eiri’s cock. Eiri’s fingers were still twisted in his hair, but he made no attempt to remove them, so Eiri carefully smoothed out the strands and rested his hand gently on Shuuichi’s head until he came. ~ The second time was a month later. Eiri was so close, so caught up in the feeling of Shuuichi’s mouth around his dick that he didn’t notice the fingers until the tip of one of them slid gently inside him. And then he was coming, grunting, spilling into Shuuichi’s mouth and maybe it didn’t matter that much, after all. ~ The third time was a week later. Shuuichi had been playing around throughout the entire blowjob, sliding his fingers down, up, and down again. Eventually, Eiri got fed up of it, and said, “One finger.” Shuuichi paused, lifting his head to look at Eiri quizzically. Eiri glowered down the length of his body, and reiterated, “One finger.” The smile he got was worth it, he decided. And maybe . . . maybe if it was Shuuichi, it was all right, because Shuuichi wouldn’t do anything he didn’t want him to. Shuuichi could be trusted, Eiri thought, just as Shuuichi’s finger crooked and pressed into his prostate and he came, hard. ~ Over the next few weeks, Eiri grudgingly decided that he liked the feeling of Shuuichi’s fingers inside him, long and slender and fucking him gently. So when Shuuichi slid up his body one night, kissing him – mouth flavoured with Eiri’s pre-come and fingers still moving inside his body – and asked one question, Eiri answered, “Yes.” If for nothing else, he thought privately, Shuuichi’s smile would have been worth it. Throughout the entire thing he felt raw and open and uncomfortably exposed, feet planted on the bed with his legs wide apart and Shuuichi moving between them, inside him, slow and deep and with far more control than Eiri would have credited him. Shuuichi kept kissing his chest, his neck, anything he could reach, whispering, “God, Yuki, I love you, love you so much, Yuki Yuki Yuki—” until Eiri told him to shut up, and kissed him to make it happen. It was overwhelming, having someone – having Shuuichi – inside of him, fucking him, and it felt hot and slick and as much as he tried to deny it, it felt good. It felt good because it was Shuuichi, and Eiri trusted him. He tried to work out when this had started, what it was about the pink-haired idiot that had wormed its way inside him, and then Shuuichi hit his prostate and he dug his head into the pillow and moaned, all thought gone. “Yuki,” Shuuichi said into his neck, and for once the name wasn’t a reminder of anything, it was just Shuuichi and him and Shuuichi’s cock pressing into his body. “Yuki Yuki Yuki, love you. . . .” Eiri thought he called his lover’s name when he came, but he wasn’t sure.

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