Tag: moamiswriting

“What is your wish tonight, my prince?” Hajime whispers the word into the hollow of Tooru’s collarbone, where he’s painted him night-blue with his teeth and has flicked the dawn’s colours underneath his skin. Tooru, his prince, the jewel behind his shield, laughs and rolls his head back. 

“Do not ask me silly things, Hajime. My wish is the same as always.” There’s a spark of heat through amber eyes, and Hajime catches himself licking his lips. His mouth hovers above Tooru’s neck now, breath catching where his hair is braided out of the way, where the collar of his royal gown will sit tomorrow and his shoulders will tremble beneath the weight of the crown. 

“Then I would dare to say that you wish for my touch,” Hajime says. His thumbs caress the sharp edge of Tooru’s hipbones, and as he lowers himself down, knees slipping away, the prince spreads his legs and welcomes him with a soft moan. His thighs catch around Hajime’s waist, slender fingers sliding over his wrists, nail by nail scratching over his skin and leaving white marks that tell stories of whom the guardian of the prince belongs to. 

“Not just your touch.” Tooru smiles. His lips are red-kissed and slick, a small tongue flashing as it licks up the residue of Hajime’s length sliding into that whining mouth just earlier. “I want all of you. Are you not to protect me and make sure that I am safe?” 

In the end, he always gets what he wants. Hajime leans over his lover, elbows sinking into the bed by Tooru’s head. Their breaths melt into steaming heat, foreheads touching, and Hajime pushes, slow, intoxicating, burning. Tooru falls apart below him with a whimper, a sputter of Hajime’s name on his royal lips, the chest that bears pink marks of Hajime’s rough warrior hands arching into a sweet bow. 

“I will have you all night, then, and some more after that.” The promises are accompanied by a gentle rock of Hajime’s hips, and he slides a hand to cradle Tooru’s cheek when the prince moans, oh, he is beautiful like that. His insides tremble, relax, spreading around Hajime as he buries himself into his prince. They breathe, together, hands finding their counterparts and fingers sliding into a web of touch. “Please,” Tooru whimpers. His legs are tight around Hajime’s waist. His mouth is slick, red, spelling words that are love and want and a plea.

Hajime lets their foreheads touch, and takes him apart. 

“I wonder why I ever wanted a cat. With you, I don’t need one.” 

“The hell’s that supposed to mean?”

Tooru grins down to where his boyfriend glares up at him, brows furrowed into a dark line of confusion. Hajime has this habit of draping himself over Tooru’s stomach or legs while studying, and today isn’t any different. It’s become a reflex for Tooru to push his fingertips all over Hajime’s scalp, to gently pet his hair and rub careful circles onto his skin to release the tension of hour-long university days and training.

When Hajime keeps staring a him just like the cat that Tooru mentioned before – demanding and unblinking – Tooru laughs softly. “Well. You’re stubborn, unique, you sometimes pretend to just be here for the cuddles, your signs of affection are the weirdest I’ve ever come across. Especially when you just put food you’ve prepared onto the table before me and leave again.” 

“Okay, okay, I get it,” Hajime growls. His cheeks have taken an intriguing shade of crimson. Tooru can’t resist running his finger over them, and Hajime makes a gesture as if to bite him. “Stop it.” 

“And you are cute,” Tooru says. His voice is still teasing, but there’s a tenderness swaying with it, calm and secure. “I know I had to earn your love, that you’re not like this with anyone else.” 

Hajime has fallen silent. His cheek rests on Tooru’s thigh as he looks up at him, the furrow in his brows gone. “Hm. Okay.” 

Tooru tries to add “also, you’re fluffy and do that cute squinty-thing when you try to show me that you’re hungry”, but Hajime shuts him up by stretching his body towards his face, giving a tiny kiss to his mouth. “Shut up, and keep scratchin’ my head.”

“I will be there with you until the end,” Hajime promises him when he slides a silver ring onto Tooru’s finger. 

“Liar,” Tooru whispers when he touches Hajime’s cold lips one last time, “I thought you promised me until the end of us, not the end of you.”

It takes more than ten years and his last year in high school for Hajime to understand. When he passes by a group of girls, a whispered secret filters through their giggles like sunlight through an ocean of emerald-singing leaves. 

“He’s so intimidating! I’m scared.” – “No wonder he doesn’t have a girlfriend.” 

On their way home, Hajime tells Tooru about the conversation. The late autumn wind has gotten sharp and cold, gold dancing along the horizon where the sun sinks into slumber above the smoke-filled town. Tooru’s hair glows like sweet caramel, and the arch of his fingertips dances in soft circles over Hajime’s wrist.

“Scary, they said?” 

“Yeah.” Hajime presses closer to him, his arm sliding around Tooru’s waist, natural, year-long habit having grown into a beloved tradition. 

“I see.” Tooru smiles, soft as the upcoming frost from the north. “I think they lied to you, Hajime. It’s not you that they’re scared of.” 

A cold breeze whirls over the street. Hajime watches the darkness twitching around the corner of Tooru’s mouth. His body is pliant and his lips gasp when Tooru suddenly hauls him close, pressing a rough kiss onto him, into him, burning on his mouth and licking at his tongue and throat. 

“I guess you’re right,” Hajime croaks when Tooru pulls back. “Of course I am!” Is all that Tooru chirps back, face alight and grinning like seconds before. 

When Tooru falls asleep against his shoulder that night, Hajime carefully brushes his hair back and looks at his face. The realization comes slow, but somehow, it’s not a surprise. Tooru has always known whom he’s wanted, how, when and how badly. 

Fear is a powerful thing, Hajime thinks, closing his eyes and listening to Tooru’s breath. 

Or maybe it’s just that he loves so fiercely that the man who’s a beast to others becomes a saint to him. 

When Kenma asks him if he’s always been like that, Kuroo has to force the howling machinery of his mind to a stop in order to find an answer.

“I don’t know,” he says, and it sounds so helpless, so stupid, so unlike him.

“It’s okay,” Kenma says and does that tiny smile that Kuroo loves. “I just want to understand.”

“I don’t think you can.”

Kuroo can’t keep his mouth from saying the words. They’re true, but they’re such a cliché too, and the effect on his mind is immediate. The edges of his thoughts tremble, a wave of dark fingers reaching into his brain and tugging at the wires, he burns and stands and has to do something.

He is always doing something. Kenma can sit and play games, but Kuroo has to –
– he runs in the morning, jogs around the lake before the uni’s dorm, eats breakfast and chases to class and some call him crazy for having classes until evening but what else should he do, how could be just be home and do nothing, they admire his intelligence though nobody expects it and finally, he’s useful, helpful, needed.

The volleyball training is hard but he’s the vice captain and manager, takes care of the water bottles, food, net, his fingers are pale with red sprinkles and callouses but God, he’s so good at this, they need him and thank him and he’ll never hear a grown man call him useless again, a disgrace, because now his mind is sharp, silver, he is fast and untouchable and he – he is useful.

“Kuroo.” Kenma’s fingers are soft. The touch of warm skin against his own is a jolt, and Kenma’s arm wrapping around his shoulder seems as if it could stop the world.

“M-my homework.” He tries to breathe. “It’s due in -”

“You’re a month ahead of your classes,” Kenma says, gentle. “You’re… you’re always doing so much. I love you, but – what you’re doing scares me. Can we talk about this?”

When Kenma lets him curl under the blanket, in the bed that Kuroo only sleeps in for a few hours each night, his mind screams. It’s hard, he can’t, has to get up, has to do –
But he feels the tears on his cheeks, hears the wild thunder of Kenma’s heart and if there’s one thing he knows, then it’s that Kenma loves him. And that things can’t stay like that.

“Okay. Okay.”

Kenma’s breath floods slowly against his neck. “Alright. I’ll listen.”

And Kuroo speaks.

“You know, there’s a saying about how you’re supposed to kiss someone when it’s midnight on New Year’s eve, because then your love will last forever.”

Hajime wonders why he’s even agreed to celebrate the new year with his own and Tooru’s family. It just ends in him having to put up with shit like this. For example, Tooru standing next to him in a wa coat and fluffy scarf, looking adorable and beautiful while the countdown is being chanted by their dads and their moms and siblings get the fireworks ready.

“Stop it already.” Hajime kicks against a pebble and buries both hands in the pockets of his jacket.

Tooru’s lips curve into a smile, but it looks false and bittersweet as the chocolate mousse they’ve had aftet dinner. “What, Hajime? Don’t you understand what I mean? That I just want a chance to-”

“Yeah, to kiss my sister, alright. I got that. Everyone fucking knows, stop dropping hints at me and coming over to see her all the time.” He’s not even mad anymore. Hajime doesn’t look at the sky, doesn’t care about the first fireworks flying already. He feels stupid, so dumb, how could he love someone like Tooru who keeps so many girls on each hand –

“You are terrible. Terribly, amazingly, impossibly dense.”

“Huh?”

But Hajime can’t shoot the insult on his tongue at Tooru. Because the fireworks go off his a satisfying hiss, roaring up into the night sky and exploding into gold and crimson and gleaming purple on ink-black velvet. Because their families yell and hug each other, because Hajime’s mom winks at him, because –

– this wonderful, infuriating boy is kissing Hajime on his lips, cold on warm, trembling and shy and perfect. Because Tooru doesn’t pull away afterwards to laugh it off but instead looks at Hajime with fireworks-reflecting eyes and stars in his hair, licking his lips and giggling a nervous:

“I kinda really don’t want to kiss your sister. ‘Cause, you know. There’s this boy that I like, and… it’d be pretty cool if we could try and last for-”

“-ever. Shut up.”

Hajime pulls Tooru’s soft, cold face into the trembling frame of his hands and kisses all bittersweet chocolate off his mouth, until the sky fades from black to pink and red and morning.

The sharp ring of his phone has Tooru jolt awake with a gasp. He sits upright in bed, heart chasing behind the fading remnants of a nightmare, and his pulse thunders underneath the flow of his blood. The display of his phone is alight in neon blue when Tooru grabs it and falls back into his sheets. There is only one message. It’s just a few words, but they’re enough to have Tooru’s mind go still and ice-cold.

They didn’t take it well. I’m coming over. 

Minutes later, his phone rings again. Incoming call. Tooru waits five seconds, and the alarm dies out. It’s their signal, and god, hearing it in a situation like that hurts so fucking much. Tooru pushes his blankets back and uses the light of his display to sneak out of his room. The stairs don’t make a sound below his feet. There’s a shadow waiting behind the front door, silent, motionless. 

Tooru opens. “I’m sorry,” he says, “come in. Tell me what happened.” 

But Hajime’s eyes are tired and crimson-swollen, his lips parading a shameful hint of blood from teeth digging into them. “No. Don’t wanna talk about this shit anymore.” He brushes a hand through his hair, glancing up at Tooru. “Can I stay tonight?”

Tooru’s answer is to cradle Hajime’s cheeks between his warm hands, trembling and scared, and to kiss his lips as if this was their last night on earth. 

It still takes an entire night of weaving their bodies into a skin-tight hug, one that holds together souls and minds, for Hajime to say another word about it. The morning sun rises when he rests his soft lips against Tooru’s forehead and whispers: “I don’t care if they hate me. I’m so sick of hiding that I love you. They gotta live with it, because – because I can’t and won’t stop loving you.” 

“We’ll find a way.” Tooru’s voice is quiet and calm, but his fingers shake where they rest on Hajime’s heart. “And if it means you staying here until we graduate, we’ll do that.”

They both know that it won’t be that easy. Hajime buries his face into Tooru’s warm shoulder and doesn’t say anything. But the smile that Tooru’s mother gives them when they come downstairs the next morning, hand in hand – well. Maybe it’s a start. Maybe it’s something like hope.

Tooru lies as naturally as he breathes. Years ago, when they were still children and far too naive and innocent, Hajime used to get upset about it. He remembers screaming and stomping his foot when Tooru said something untrue, and he knows that Tooru yelled something back that has stayed in Hajime’s mind, burnt into the core of his soul. 

“I just lie ‘cause I want you to be happy.” 

It hasn’t changed. 

“I’m fine, Hajime.” Tooru smiles as if he’s just won the lottery, all white teeth and sweat on his forehead from hard training. Hajime’s hands wrap the bandage around his knee in practiced motions. “Of course,” he replies. 

“I don’t need your help. Honestly, I don’t need this from you. You don’t have to treat me like I’m fragile or something, it’s not like I’m going to break.” 

“Done.” Hajime shuts him up with a soft press of their lips. They rarely kiss during training, so Tooru’s breath comes to a sharp halt. His eyes are molten amber when Hajime pulls back, fingers touching Tooru’s warm cheek. 

“I know you don’t need me,” Hajime says. His lies are bad, obvious, as if a bird was trying to use its wings for swimming. But Tooru still leans against the warm touch of Hajime’s hand and nods. “Yeah. I don’t. Let’s go and play.”

Tooru’s lies are perfect, except for Hajime. However intricate and delicately planned the castle of Tooru’s illusion may ever be, however hard he tries – Hajime finds a gap to push his hand through, and rest it onto Tooru’s heart. Maybe Tooru will never speak the truth. 

Hajime doesn’t care. He reads Tooru’s wishes from the light in his eyes, and that amber-gold has never betrayed him once. They will be fine. 

“I feel like I’ve been your boyfriend forever.” 

Maybe Hajime intended for his words to sound romantic, but in Tooru’s head they ring all possible alarm bells. He jolts up from where he’s been resting his head on Hajime’s stomach, lazily eating some chocolate and wearing the most hideous aliens-and-Christmas sweater ever. 

Hajime gives him an amused grin. “What? You alright there? I just said that it feels like we’ve been together for like, an eternity.” 

“Are you bored with me?” This isn’t a joke, not to Tooru. He bites his lip, licking off the rest of sugar and whole milk chocolate, staring at his boyfriend. The snow outside falls in silence. Christmas is tomorrow, and they enjoy the last calm hours before both of their families come over and bring boasting life into the flat.

Hajime watches Tooru’s concerned face for a second. 
“Well? Are you? You sound like you’re fed up.” Tooru begins to fidget. He reaches for Hajime’s cheeks, tea-cup-warmed fingers tracing his lover’s jaw. The worried line of his brows soften. “I love you, you kno-”

“I know! God, that’s not. Okay. Listen.” Hajime sighs, lips curling into a grin. “This is going to be embarrassing. Don’t interrupt me.” 

And Tooru listens, mouth slightly open, as his boyfriend sits up and kisses his forehead. “I just meant that I feel like I know what an eternity with you feels like already. We’ve been doing this relationship-thing for some time. And… I think… that a ‘forever’ with you sounds like the best future I could wish for.”

Tooru is glad that their families are only coming over tomorrow. That way, he can spend his entire evening curled on Hajime’s lap, hands cradling his face like he’s a star fallen from the sky, and Tooru’s lips pressing snow-soft kisses onto his mouth with a whisper of “yes, yes, I want us to be forever”.