by Kubaru Suki (少年好き 配る)
Everybody said that Soketani Daisetsu was cursed.
He wasn’t sure it wasn’t true.
And that worried him.
The curse goes like this: Daisetsu was one of only two people (that he knew) who had a living mirror. The other person (the only other one he knew) happened to be his living mirror and everybody said that Doigami Saisuke was just as cursed as Daisetsu.
Daisetsu wasn’t sure when the curse had started, but by the time he’d reached his last year in primary school, everybody in the school knew about it from the littlest kid to the oldest of the teachers.
The proof of the curse was this: They were best friends and had been so since their very first meeting. They both had hair that was so black it looked like they had had blue highlights put in professionally (they hadn’t) and it never laid down nicely in the front because it was too busy being wispy and falling in their eyes. They both had older sisters (Kikuyo and Yuriko) who hated them for the long, dark lashes that framed their unusual colored eyes (Daisetsu’s were green, Saisuke’s were blue). They were exactly the same height and the same build and the same size so that when Daisetsu spilled red paint on himself in art, he could put on Saisuke’s spare uniform pants and they fit him just exactly like his own had. They were both midfielders on the soccer team and neither one of them was ever put into a game when the other was not. They both lived in houses, not apartments, and had grown up right across the street from each other. And finally, which was also most importantly, there was the weird symmetrical asymmetry of their names.
So it was obvious that they were cursed.
Occasionally, Daisetsu (and Saisuke) had tried to prove that they weren’t cursed to be living mirrors and they tried to set the record straight about their differences.
The attempts to get rid of the curse idea went like this: Nobody could say that they looked alike, because aside from the hair and the eyes, they didn’t; Daisetsu had features so fine that he almost looked like a girl while Saisuke could have been a textbook picture for what a boy should look like. Saisuke was a whole three months older and, because of those months, a grade above Daisetsu. Daisetsu had lived his whole life in Minato while Saisuke had lived in Akita until he was four years old. Unfortunately, that was as far as their differences had gone and so, by the time they’d both started attending the same high school, they had stopped trying.
Besides, Daisetsu didn’t mind being cursed as long as it was with Saisuke, because Saisuke was his favorite person to be with. And Saisuke always told him that he didn’t mind being cursed with him since it meant that they’d be able to date anybody they wanted (and they did have their pick of the school) because being cursed was sexy.
The thing about mirrors, though, was that some things were opposites. Like their names, their eyes, the boy versus girl thing.
And the fact that they could be worst enemies when they looked like best friends.
It was an aspect of the curse that Daisetsu hadn’t even suspected until three months ago when he’d walked into the school library (to return Saisuke’s books for him) and overheard one of his old girlfriends talking to the new transfer student in D-class.
“You need to go out with Dai-kun,” his old girlfriend’s voice had rung out from behind a rack of girls magazines and Daisetsu (who hated being called Dai-kun) had stopped to listen.
“…but, I don’t want to date Soketani-kun,” the new girl had said. “I want to go out with Doigami-kun.”
Daisetsu had rolled his eyes. Saisuke seemed to like his matching nickname of ‘Sai-kun’ and, to that end, had taken to calling Daisetsu by his in the apparent hopes of getting it returned.
“You don’t really have to,” his old girlfriend, Hisa, reassured her. “You know about the curse, right? Well, all you have to do to get a date with Sai-kun is to make Dai-kun want to ask you out.”
“I don’t understand.”
He’d hid quickly behind a shelf as he heard books being gathered off of tables. “Who knows how the curse works,” Hisa had said dismissively. “The important thing is that if you want to get Sai-kun to go out with you, the best way is to get Dai-kun to kiss you. That’s how most girls get him. It’s how I got him.”
It was then that Daisetsu had realized that every single one of his ex-girlfriends had dated Saisuke sometime after breaking up with him.
“Saisuke,” he’d said on the train home, bored with watching the businessmen trying to fondle their female classmates, “did you know that you’ve dated all of the same girls I have? After I have?”
His friend had looped a casual arm around his shoulders. “That, Dai-kun, is because I like your taste.”
“But don’t you think it’s weird?” Daisetsu pressed him. He had never had more than a few dates with any girl and his few girlfriends had always broken up with him, first. Saisuke was the same, only opposite because it was he who walked away from the girls. Daisetsu hadn’t ever really thought about it much before, or minded much, because he had the most fun when it was just him and Saisuke. But having been forced to study it, he had come to the conclusion that it was a strange thing.
Saisuke had stood up then, even though they had time before their stop. “Well, not really. We’re cursed together, remember?” He’d got off the train without looking back and hadn’t looked at him again the whole walk home.
And it was at that point that Daisetsu had begun to fear that the other side of his mirror might not have been quite what he thought it was.
“Hey,” Daisetsu wandered into the junior class hallways at lunch. He always got away with being there, and with being so casual with them, because of Saisuke and the curse. “Anybody seen Doigami?”
One of the boys, mouth already full of food, nodded. “Ees un a eef in,” he said helpfully. He swallowed and then opened his mouth as though to repeat himself clearly.
“Roof, I think. Isn’t that where he said he was going to eat lunch?” said one of the other boys with a meaningful look at the first.
A third boy nodded. “Right. And he said something about the library, too, right?”
“East Wing, gotcha,” Daisetsu flashed them all the thumbs up before jogging back the way he’d come. He ignored the clamor of voices assuring him that Saisuke was no where near the east side of the building. And he ignored the other uproar that was busy claiming that without a current girlfriend he surely wouldn’t be there even if he wasn’t anywhere else. They were all conveniently ignoring the fact that in the last three months Saisuke had become one of the two biggest playboys in school.
In doing so, he’d inadvertently sprung the trap that Daisetsu had very cunningly laid for him and exposed the true Saisuke. The trap was very simple: Daisetsu became the biggest player in school and waited to see what Saisuke would do.
The best part of the plan was that the girls themselves were in on it. Daisetsu had approached each one with the words ‘I can’t tell you who it is, but I need your help so please don’t tell anybody’ and by the time he got to ‘so please, pretend like you really, really like me for a little while so I can see how that person feels’ they were ready to bear his children if that’s what it took for him to find out how his ‘special person’ felt about him. Girls were crazy for romantic drama.
The results were as he had both expected and dreaded; after a week or so of eating lunch alone with him, each girl would invariable come to him and ask if he still needed help ‘because, um, Sai-kun sort of asked if I’d eat with him…’
He’d tried to explain that part away as Saisuke missing him and trying to spend time with him by inviting his girlfriend to lunch. However he’d met with Nenashi-chan between first and second period to pick out a place to have lunch together again but she hadn’t come for lunch or to tell him she would be eating with Saisuke. Apparently Saisuke was sick of waiting, because the space between the back of the east wing of the building and the school’s back wall was the most notorious make-out spot on campus.
Daisetsu had been expecting to see Nenashi and Saisuke kissing. He’d been expecting to see them up against the building, because it was a small space between the building and the wall. He’d been expecting it and seeing it, seeing Saisuke leaning back against the bricks with Nenashi draped over his chest like the heroine on a cheap romance novel, wasn’t what made him stop and stare. What made him stop and stare was the way Saisuke kissed her, with his eyes closed and his hands on her shoulders. It was the expression on his face, like he was looking for something, yearning towards it without knowing where to find it. It made Daisetsu pluck at his uniform jacket because his chest suddenly ached like his shirt was too tight. It could have been him kissing like that. It should have been him, even if he wasn’t really dating Nenashi or didn’t even really know her at all. That was his place being occupied. There was a taste like ashes and jealousy in the back of his throat and he started talking just to see if it would go away.
“I kissed her yesterday,” he said almost conversationally “and made plans to have lunch alone with her today. Right in front of you. You were standing right there.”
Saisuke jerked his head up and then he smiled at him, like he was happy to see him. “I know that, Dai-kun. It’s why when I saw her today I asked her if she thought I would be a better kisser than you,” he said in a very reasonable tone, “because she would know just what sort of kisser you are. She said she couldn’t be sure without kissing me. So here we are,” he finished as though that made everything all right.
“Here we are,” Daisetsu repeated softly. He felt a lot like he was going to throw up. “Yes, here we are,” he said again, more loudly. “Here we are, Senpai.”
He’d never called Saisuke that before. They were only three months apart in age and had taken baths together until they were eight, so it was ridiculous. In fact, he’d never called him anything but Saisuke. But that name was wrapped up in friendship and childhood adoration and he didn’t think he’d be able to say it again. It felt like it would cut his heart to shreds to say it. At least saying ‘senpai’ only felt like it was cutting his heart out.
For a moment Saisuke looked completely shocked and Daisetsu used that moment to appreciate just how good a plan it had been before Saisuke’s grin returned in full force. “Dai-kun,” he shook his head good-naturedly, “you’re not mad at me.” When he didn’t say anything, that bright grin flagged and dimmed. “Dai-kun, you’re not mad at me over her.”
“Hey!” Nenashi frowned up at Saisuke.
Saisuke looked down at her. “What?”
“You could like her, at least,” Daisetsu told him, ignoring Nenashi’s glaring. “You could like any of them at least, but I guess I was the only one who mattered.”
“…you say that like it’s a bad thing,” Saisuke said, smiling lazily and relaxing back against the building with one hand idly stroking Nenashi’s back.
Daisetsu felt a hot pain in his eyes and realized that tears had rushed in. To hide it he turned to look at the chain-link gate in the wall that was meant for school vehicles. He walked over to it, touching the cool metal. “Maybe if I’d known you meant it as enemies,” he said strongly, getting a good grip on the links and pulling himself up “and not as friends it wouldn’t be.” He reached the top of the gate and swung over it, dropping himself to the ground on the other side. He looked at Saisuke through the chain for a moment and then shrugged. “But I guess that’s why it was fun for you, Sempai.”
Saisuke stared at him. “You’re going to get detention if the teachers catch you out there.”
“So?” He shoved his hands into his pockets and started walking.
“Daisetsu! You can’t be mad at me! Not over the sort of girl who goes off with a boy over a line like ‘am I a good kisser’!”
Behind him, Nenashi shrieked, “You pig!”
He heard the rattle of the fence and picked up his pace. He didn’t really want to run away, not in front of Saisuke, but he was willing to do it if he had to.
It must have been the mirror curse playing with his luck, because the next thing he heard was Kawayama-sensei’s voice. Kawayama, the gym teacher, was built like a bus and liked kids a lot…when he was eating them for lunch. “If you don’t remove yourself from the fence, Doigami, we are going to have to exchange words,” he said, sounding like Death From On High.
The fence rattled again. “Soketani went outside,” he heard Saisuke tell him. Then, loudly, “Daisetsu! Wait! Just wait, okay?”
But he didn’t and he didn’t look back as he turned the corner.
“I don’t see anybody out there, Doigami,” Kawayama said, in his Voice of God voice that meant nothing but trouble for anybody incapable of growing a full beard in under three days.
“Soketani-kun wasn’t anywhere near here,” Nenashi said loudly. “Doigami was just going to go over the fence to buy smokes.”
He heard Saisuke’s voice again, and then Kawayama’s and Nenashi’s, but he couldn’t quite make out the words. They were either too quiet or he just couldn’t listen anymore. He sighed hard and slid down along the outside wall until he was in an uncomfortable crouch.
The voices went away.
The tones signaling the end of lunch rang.
Daisetsu crouched and stared at the sidewalk between his feet until he quit feeling like he was bleeding into the street, cut deeply by the glass of a mirror he’d shattered.
He ended up at Saisuke’s house because he didn’t have enough pocket money on him to go to the movies (not and still get home, since his train pass was at school with his books) but he could neither stay out on the streets (he’d get tagged for being out of school) nor could he go home (his mother would throw a fit about skipping afternoon classes) and he knew for a fact that he could sneak into Saisuke’s room without anybody knowing he was there (or caring, Saisuke’s family was cool like that). Once school let out for the day, he could go home for train money to go back to school and gather his things. He just had to wait a few hours.
A few hours was nothing when compared to the total amount of time he’d spent in Saisuke’s room. He’d spent whole days holed up in there with his friend, hours after school studying together. Added all up it was probably weeks or even months of his life in that room. It was as familiar to him as his own.
He couldn’t bear to look at anything or touch anything so he shed his uniform jacket and crawled into the bed, pulling Saisuke’s sheets over his head.
Saisuke didn’t have any pictures of the two of them together anyway.
Only a cursed boy hiding from his worst enemy would fall asleep in that person’s bed.
Mirror luck was hell.
He woke up because Saisuke was sitting on him. At least, he assumed it was Saisuke. The room was so dark that he couldn’t see anything more than a shadow-shape above him. For a moment he wasn’t sure where he was or why he was there. For a moment he forgot that he’d been betrayed and that he was supposed to hate Saisuke’s guts. “Saisuke?” he asked sleepily, “what’s going on?”
“It’s Saisuke again? You’re not mad at me anymore?”
He remembered it all, all of a sudden. He swore and tried to shove Saisuke off of him, but he wasn’t just being sat on; Saisuke was also kneeling on his hands, pinning them palm-up to the bed. “Get off of me,” he hissed, struggling.
Above him Saisuke shifted, adjusting his weight, leaning forward a little and putting more pressure against his hands. “No. I don’t want you to run away again. Daisetsu…” his voice was just a murmur and because of it, because he sounded so gentle, Daisetsu was completely unprepared for being poked in the eye.
“Ow!” he tried to clap a hand over it, but couldn’t. So he swore again instead and when the bedside lamp clicked on he swore a third time because the harsh light hurt his already smarting, watering eye and the one that had, until that moment, felt perfectly fine.
Saisuke was laughing at him. “I didn’t mean to,” he said when Daisetsu glared at him. “I really didn’t. Let me see.” He leaned close, still chuckling and it was galling to be grateful to him for blocking the worst of the light with his body while his eyes adjusted. “It’s fine,” he said after a moment, his fingers brushing the moisture off of his cheek in an idle, sweeping arc.
Daisetsu glared at him again. “You could quit laughing at me, you know,” he said crossly.
“I could,” Saisuke agreed readily. “But I’d have to be laughing at you first, and I’m laughing at me. I finally find you so I can ask you not to be mad at me anymore and I poked you in the eye.”
He didn’t want to think about being mad at Saisuke. It was bad enough being mad at him. So he focused on something else. “‘Finally’?” He looked at the deep darkness of the room. “What time is it?”
“Midnight,” he answered, turning the clock so that he could see the face. “But don’t worry, your parents aren’t worried or anything. My mom called yours and told her you were staying over. She left me a note about it before she left for work,” Saisuke explained. His fingers stilled and he sighed, “I only found it just now. I’ve been looking for you ever since school let out. I finally got tired of carrying both of our book-bags around and came home. I don’t like that you’re mad at me, Daisetsu. Please don’t be mad anymore.”
“I’m not mad at you,” Daisetsu told him. He looked away and then back because he wanted to see the mask of Saisuke fall, so that he could stop feeling like he was with his best friend and that everything was okay. “I hate you,” he finished.
A sad, wry small tugged cruelly at Saisuke’s mouth and Daisetsu couldn’t help feeling horrible that he’d put it there. He felt even worse at being glad that Saisuke was finally hurting too. Saisuke’s hand drifted up to push his hair out of his eyes. “I talked to some of the girls after school, you know. They told me what you were doing,” he said. “Or at least, what you told them you were doing. But you were testing me to see if I’d take them away, right?”
“Bet you’re sorry you didn’t figure that one out sooner, so you could keep playing your games,” Daisetsu spat.
Saisuke pulled his hand back and then drew his entire self away, getting off of the bed to sit on the floor beside it, his head still close to Daisetsu’s own. Daisetsu automatically rolled onto his side to face him. “I’m sorry that, if you’re going to hate me, you’re not doing it for the right reasons.”
“It’s the wrong reason to hate you for hating me?”
“Daisetsu,” Saisuke’s face twisted miserably. “I want you to hate me for me, not for some girl whose name I can’t even remember. And you should because I… If we’re mirrors…if you hate me, then we’re opposites. I couldn’t ever tell you,” he said in a dull rush when Daisetsu felt his jaw drop. “I couldn’t ever because I didn’t want to be opposites and if I didn’t say, then we wouldn’t be.”
“But…” Daisetsu flopped onto his back and slapped a hand over his face, covering his eyes. “It was you who found a girl first. You, and then me.”
“I didn’t want to look at you the way that I did,” Saisuke explained, dragging Daisetsu hand away from his eyes so that he couldn’t hide. “I didn’t want to make you hate me for feeling like that for you. So I asked out a girl but I didn’t…I just couldn’t like her the way I liked you. And I thought that if you picked out a girl maybe I could find what made you like her. But I couldn’t.”
“So why did you keep doing it?” he asked him rolling back up.
“Because it was like sharing kisses with you,” he answered and Daisetsu held his breath as Saisuke’s fingertips brushed softly over his lips, “to kiss them.”
Daisetsu remembered his jealousy behind the school and swallowed. “Saisuke…” he hesitated and then plunged recklessly ahead, “Saisuke, maybe you could just kiss me.”
Saisuke’s eyes went round. “Huh?”
Daisetsu let out a long breath, feeling like a lock that had finally found its key. “You can kiss me.” He bit his lip when Saisuke shook his head. “You can,” he repeated quietly. “I… I think I’d like it. Because you always wanted to double date and I didn’t have the heart to tell you that I liked it best when it was just you and me having fun together.”
“You have to take it back now,” Saisuke said, his eyes darkly serious. “If you’re going to take it back, it has to be now.”
“You’re right. It has to be now,” he agreed. He gripped the shoulder of Saisuke’s uniform jacket. “But I won’t if you won’t.”
Daisetsu felt a little nervous. A little scared. But mostly he just felt better than he had for months. Maybe for years. He tugged on Saisuke’s jacket to bring him closer and felt a kick of panic as Saisuke’s hand settled warmly on his cheek. He felt like it was his first kiss all over again, only worse because this time it was with the person who mattered most to him in the world. “Don’t miss,” he whispered shutting his eyes.
“Never,” Saisuke whispered back.
He relaxed with the first, faint touch of Saisuke’s mouth to his own. He knew how to kiss. Saisuke knew how to kiss. It couldn’t be bad if they were together. He hooked an arm around Saisuke’s neck and sighed. Saisuke sighed back at him, the hand on his cheek leaving to wrap around the nape of his neck.
For the space of several long, sweet kisses Daisetsu waited for Saisuke to deepen them. He sipped at his mouth, his lips open and soft but the contact remained almost stubbornly chaste. He opened his eyes and pulled away enough to speak, brushing his lips back and forth across Saisuke’s, unwilling to leave them. “Are you waiting for me to back off and say stop?”
Saisuke’s eyes flickered open and his mouth followed the kiss in sweeping counterpoint. “Yes.”
Daisetsu stopped the movement by catching Saisuke’s lower lip between his teeth and biting down gently. “I want you to kiss me the way you want to kiss me,” he murmured, slicking his tongue over the abused flesh and leaving it gleaming wetly in the low light. “Kiss me like you want it.”
He watched Saisuke’s pupils dilate, the blue of his eyes giving way to black until it was nearly eclipsed. A second later he was shoved roughly onto his back and he was confused for a second, until Saisuke scrambled to his knees beside the bed, leaning over it to reach him better.
Saisuke kissed him like he was trying to consume him in long, slow gulps. Daisetsu moaned low in his throat as Saisuke’s tongue stroked against his, tasting deeply. It took two tries to muster the coordination to grasp Saisuke’s shoulders and push at him.
“No,” Saisuke murmured against his mouth. “Not yet,” his tone took on a pleading note.
“Not that,” Daisetsu shook his head. “Come up here. On the bed.”
“Daisetsu…” Saisuke straightened. “If I come up there…” he trailed off and chewed on his lower lip, something he did when he was holding an internal debate. Daisetsu waited expectantly and after a while Saisuke blew out a breath that ruffled the hair falling into his eyes. “I think of you,” he said at last.
The meaning of that statement didn’t sink in at first and when it did, Daisetsu shivered. “When you…” he asked, just to make sure.
“When I can’t keep you out of my head anymore, I bring you here,” he confirmed, his hand brushed the sheets next to Daisetsu’s body. “So, if I join you up there…” heat flickered in his eyes, “I’d do more than just kiss you.”
Saisuke laughed shakily. “Daisetsu, so much happened today that it’s enough that you’re here. That this happened at all.” He shook his head, “I don’t want to push you, but I would and you’d let me. You let me push you into dating girls, after all.”
“And kissing them, too,” Daisetsu told him, reaching out to bring him close. “I always thought ‘well, I guess I should’. I never wanted to kiss them the way that I want to kiss you. If you want to push, that’s okay,” he murmured, kissing the corner of his mouth.
“I’ll push too far,” Saisuke said helplessly.
Daisetsu shifted and kissed Saisuke’s neck, drawing nonsense patterns with his tongue. When Saisuke clutched at him, he stopped and blew on the damp patch to feel him shiver. “This is as far as I’ve ever gone,” Daisetsu confessed, pushing Saisuke’s uniform jacket off of his shoulders. As Saisuke shrugged out of the jacket, Daisetsu touched the hollow of Saisuke’s throat and ran his fingers down along the center of his chest tracing along the row of buttons. He tipped his head back, looking Saisuke in the eyes as his fingers drifted to the side and over the swell of muscles. He stopped and splayed his palm flat, pressing down with the heel of his hand and stroking, searching. When Saisuke stiffened and made a soft sound he said, “And that’s further. I want to go further. I want to go there with you.”
“Stop me,” Saisuke groaned as Daisetsu slid over to make room for him in the narrow bed. “When it’s too much, stop me. Just…make me stop. Whatever it takes to make me stop, just…”
“Just kiss me,” Daisetsu murmured, mouthing the pulse fluttering in Saisuke’s neck as he was pushed up against the wall by a hard, hot body.
Saisuke pulled his head up by a handful of hair and crushed their mouths together again, their tongues tangling wetly.
Daisetsu wasn’t sure why he was suddenly so frantic, why it suddenly seemed that he couldn’t touch enough of Saisuke fast enough. He fumbled clumsily with the buttons on Saisuke’s shirt. “I can’t…” he panted, dragging at the reluctant cloth, “but I have to…” he bit Saisuke’s shoulder through the shirt, tasting fabric softener and cotton. “Take your shirt off,” he groaned.
“Yeah, okay.” Saisuke didn’t touch his shirt, instead he sucked on Daisetsu’s ear and Daisetsu nearly hit him by accident trying to grab him and hold him in place.
“It’s never been like this,” Daisetsu sucked in a gasping breath, arching into Saisuke’s touch as Saisuke’s hands slid under his shirt to tease at his nipples. “I can’t…there’s not enough skin,” he exhaled on a moan.
“Mmhm,” Saisuke hummed in agreement and Daisetsu bit back a wail as the front of his shirt fell open and Saisuke licked a path of fire from his breastbone to the top of his pants.
“Damn it, Saisuke,” Daisetsu moaned, arching, “take your damn shirt off.” Saisuke’s tongue slipped under the edge of the waistband in teasing darts. “If you don’t get naked I am getting out of this bed,” Daisetsu threatened him.
That got through. Saisuke reared back, scrabbled at his cuffs and a moment later his shirt was halfway across the room. “You wouldn’t leave,” Saisuke said, “You wouldn’t want me naked if you were going to leave.”
“But it worked,” Daisetsu returned. He reached for the button on Saisuke’s slacks, his fingers trembling. “I don’t know why I feel like this,” he whimpered.
Saisuke rolled them suddenly, so that Daisetsu was straddling him. “Because it’s finally,” he moaned and he pressed Daisetsu’s hands, still clutching at the button of his pants, down to cover the bulge of his erection.
The heat of him, the hardness and the strength, was both familiar and foreign. Daisetsu rubbed both hands over the strained fabric, his moan echoing Saisuke’s. “Finally,” he said, slipping the button free.
“Finally,” Saisuke stilled beneath him, eyes locked with his. “Finally what you wanted, what you thought you’d never have.”
Daisetsu pushed Saisuke’s fly aside and slipped his hand inside the boxers to curl a hand around Saisuke’s shaft, drawing it out slowly. The sight of the darkly flushed skin, with its tracing of veins and the faint, bobbing pulse, made Daisetsu’s mouth water and his heart pound. “Saisuke,” he choked out.
Saisuke made a mewling sound and thrust into his fist. “Touch me,” he gasped, bucking up against him. “Daisetsu, please,” he begged when Daisetsu didn’t move.
“Saisuke, I can’t,” he said, staring at him with wide eyes.
A violent tremor shook him. “Can’t?”
“I think that if I do, I’m going to come in my pants,” he tightened his grip on Saisuke’s cock as it leapt sharply in his grasp. “Help me,” he demanded.
“Oh, fuck,” Saisuke’s eyes squeezed shut for a moment and then Daisetsu was rolled again and pinned to the mattress. “You get your pants and I’ll get mine,” Saisuke told him, rolling off.
He tore at his pants with dumb, nerveless fingers, his eyes locked on Saisuke’s hands as they bared him. The crest of his hip, the long lines of his thigh drew him and Daisetsu abandoned the plan of getting naked somewhere around his knees in order to touch him.
Saisuke curled into him; by sheer instinct, Daisetsu moved down and Saisuke moved up and then they were pressed together from chest to thigh, moving against each other in shuddering, erratic thrusts.
Daisetsu reached between them, wrapping his hand around both of them as best he could, to hold their cocks aligned so that the sensitive undersides slipped and slid against each other as the moved. “I thought about you,” he gasped, adjusting the angle of his grip so that Saisuke’s eyes rolled back. “I told myself it was about the girls,” he groaned as Saisuke bit his throat, his shoulder, his bicep. “I told myself it was what you were doing to them…and not you…”
“Yes,” Saisuke breathed as his hand joining Daisetsu’s making a single, tight fist around them both before kissing him with fevered, artless need. “Finally,” he shuddered, his body stretching tight with a sudden, soundless sob as wet heat flooded between them.
“Finally,” Daisetsu agreed, losing himself in the white-hot sear of sensation that shot down his spine and wrung itself out in the hot, thick pleasure of orgasm.
“As much as I’d love to just fall asleep right now, just the way we are” Saisuke mumbled after a minute, when both of them had stopped shaking, “we’ve got to get dressed.”
Though the last thing he wanted to do was move, the thought of anybody finding him naked, much less nakedly glued to an equally naked Saisuke, was enough to make him roll over. The sticky, cooling mess on his stomach made him stop. “Um?” he asked running a finger through it and holding it up to show Saisuke.
Saisuke licked it clean with a grin and winked when Daisetsu blushed. “We’ll just use your shirt,” he said, tugging at one long forgotten sleeve.
“Why my shirt?” Daisetsu asked, shrugging out of it nonetheless.
“Because I still know where it is,” Saisuke said with a sunny, lazy smile. “Besides, it’s my shirt anyway. You’re going to be wearing one of my uniforms to school tomorrow,” he explained, “so I may as well just keep yours.”
“That makes sense,” Daisetsu agreed, wiping the mess off his belly and folding the shirt over before giving it to Saisuke. He was unaccountably warmed by the thought of Saisuke keeping his clothing. “Junior stripes on the jacket, though,” he pointed out.
Saisuke kissed his shoulder and sat up, tossing the dirty shirt on the floor. “Like anybody will say anything to either of us about it,” he said uncaringly, getting out of bed. “They’ll just chalk it up to the curse. Strip, I’ll get clothes for you.”
Daisetsu was just finishing kicking out of the tangle of pants and underwear that he’d left himself with when Saisuke suddenly started laughing. “What?” he asked, clutching his newly discarded clothes to his chest with one hand and the other hovering in nervous embarrassment near his groin.
“It’s not that and it’s not you,” Saisuke chuckled as he started rummaging in one of his dresser drawer. “It’s me,” he said, ducking into one of the shirts he came up with and tossing the other to Daisetsu. “Well. Us.”
Daisetsu frowned and tugged the shirt over his head. “What about us?” he asked as he emerged
“Look at the clock,” Saisuke suggested, opening another drawer and pulling out a pair of pajama pants.
Daisetsu looked. The display flipped from twelve-fifteen to twelve-sixteen. “Oh.” He looked at his clothes crumpled on the floor, to the rumpled sheets, to Saisuke’s anticipatory face. “We didn’t last very long.”
“We really blew it,” Saisuke agreed, tossing another pair of pajama pants at him.
Daisetsu pulled the pants on and shrugged, scooting over when Saisuke crawled back into bed beside him. “Well,” he said pulling the blankets up over their shoulders as Saisuke settled in, “nobody can be great from the start, right?”
“Of course not,” Saisuke agreed. “It’s like kissing. It’s like practicing kissing with your mirror. Eventually, you get it right.”
Daisetsu frowned. “I never practiced kissing with my mirror,” he said, “I…” he stopped when he saw the grin on Saisuke’s face.
“Well,” Saisuke said virtuously, “you probably should have. I know I should have. In fact, I think I’m going to practice having sex with my mirror. To make sure I improve.”
Grinning, Daisetsu smacked him over the head with the pillow. “Pervert.”
“It’s only because I’m cursed,” Saisuke said piously. Then he laughed and took the pillow away, tucking it back under their heads before wrapping his arms around Daisetsu. “Are you trying to tell me that you’re not going to practice with your mirror?”
“Of course I am,” Daisetsu returned the embrace, burying his face in the crook of Saisuke’s neck. “I’m cursed too, after all.”
Everybody said that Soketani Daisetsu was cursed.
It was probably true.
And he was perfectly fine with that.