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norihisahyuga-archived · 8 years ago

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Love You Only (3/?)

Matsuoka Masahiro/Nagase Tomoya Tokio 2100~ words. Sfw.

If you asked Tomoya Nagase about colors, he would swear to you that he remembers them somehow, impossibly. Enter Masahiro Matsuoka, whose arms he ends up being pushed into, the man who sets his world alight with the rainbow. Neither of them can shake how familiar it feels, and as their journey through life and love continues, they begin to realize that sometimes love really can transcend anything put before it. For @chlance, of course. A labor of love, and another soulmate AU no one asked for.

Tomo wants to tell someone. He wants to tell his parents, because they had doubted him for so long, had doubted that he had once been able to see the colors of the world, but he had, and now he knows this. Where others have marveled over the hues and shades around them, he feels a sense of peace, as if something once valuable was lost and has been restored to him.

The first name that comes to mind when he picks up his cell phone, though, is Tatsuya Yamaguchi. The two of them have been friends for the last few years. Tomo had met him on the train one day. A few men across the aisle had been intent on giving Tomo hell for the way he was dressed, and Tatsu had stepped in on his behalf for no reason other than that he could.

Since then, Tomo has come to value Tatsu’s friendship as deeply as any other. They get along well, and though Tomo has not quite found the confidence Tatsu is able to display when someone talks down to him, he would like to think he is getting there. He thinks it over, then opens his Contacts and hits Call, waiting for Tatsu to pick up on the other end of the line.

“Tomo,” the familiar voice of his best friend yawns. “Aren’t you calling a little bit early today?”

Tomo frowns, glancing at the clock on the stove. “No, Tatsu, it’s past noon already.”

He wonders if Tatsu and his girlfriend have been having trouble again. Though the two of them work hard to make their relationship work, Tomo has heard more often than not how things are not working properly between the two of them. They put in more effort than most do, and for that he does hope things work out for them… But he can only see Tatsu suffer so much without wondering if the right person for him is out there waiting for him to find them.

“Is it really? Damn, I didn’t mean to be in bed this late… Anyway, what did you want?” There are sounds on the other end, creaking and rustling, probably Tatsu getting up for the day.

“I wanted to tell you the good news, actually.” Tomo rocks back and forth on the balls of his feet, feeling so light, so happy. “I was at the market, and I… Tatsu, I found the one.”

There is a long silence on the other end of the line, punctuated by a gasp before Tatsu speaks. “Are you serious? Tell me, what’s it like, then? Does seeing color still feel familiar to you?”

“It does, actually. Like, I feel like I’ve seen these colors before. Not these exact colors, of course, but color in general? Yeah.” Tomo hooks his foot around the leg of one of the kitchen chairs and sits down heavily. “Some guys were giving me shit about my clothes. I got pushed into him.”

“You don’t need me to tell you how fucking dramatically and stupidly romantic that sounds,” Tatsu says, and Tomo laughs because he’s right. It sounds very dramatic.

“It’s true though,” he insists, and launches into the story while Tatsu is most likely getting dressed.

His stomach rumbles halfway through the story, so he pushes himself up so he can throw together an egg sandwich, not in the mood for anything heavier, and some coffee to wash it down. Tatsu has his flaws, but he listens patiently while Tomo goes over the hours he had spent with Mabo— just the name is enough to make his stomach tighten and his heart flutter— and their promise to spend some time together over the next two days. Time, Tomo hopes, that will strengthen their bond.

“You sound like you’ve already decided on you two staying together,” Tatsu says when Tomo has finished and has sat down to eat. “I really hope he decides the same thing. You deserve that.”

“Don’t be dumb, everyone deserves to find their soulmate if they can.” Tomo quickly clears his throat after saying it, remembering Tatsu’s insistence he would rather make it work with someone else rather than keep searching. “Well, you know what I mean. How’s your girlfriend doing?”

Tatsu laughs, and Tomo winces. Maybe it would have been better to let Tatsu volunteer the information instead of asking after her. “We just got into another fight last night, actually.”

It’s Tomo’s turn to sit quietly and listen, trying to chew and swallow with little to no noise so Tatsu doesn’t have to listen to him chewing in his ear. As he thought, Tatsu and his girlfriend are having problems. It seems they have no end of problems, and sometimes Tomo just wants to tell him that all of the love in the world cannot always solve everything, that sometimes people are not meant to be together. But right now, able to see the world in vivid color, he knows he can’t.

Tatsu has always respected him for wanting to look for his soulmate, but he has been firm that he does not believe that path is right for him. And Tomo can only respect Tatsu’s decisions, and support him to the best of his ability, even if it means watching Tatsu hurt himself in the process.

It probably isn’t right to wish for it, but he almost wishes that Tatsu would find his soulmate just so he knows he has options out there, people who would treat him better. Because she doesn’t, she doesn’t give him the support he needs when things are bad for him mentally, and Tomo knows this, because he has stepped in more than a few times to give Tatsu any form of support he can. Better a best friend than nothing, right? If it’s the only thing he can get… Tomo finishes his sandwich and pulls his mug closer to himself, and he knows he’s wrong for hoping Tatsu finds someone else when he has put so much of himself into this, but it’s not working anymore.

“But, you know, I’m sure we’ll figure out a way to sort everything out. We always do. Sometimes, it just takes a little more time than… Well, you know.” Tatsu trails off and Tomo hums, trying to be as convincing as possible, trying to make Tatsu think he believes him. Wondering if Tatsu is still lying to himself, or if he has given up on that, too. “I get to meet your guy soon, right?”

“If things work out well with him, then absolutely,” Tomo says. He wonders how Mabo and Tatsu will get along, if his best friend and his soulmate will like each other.

“If it makes you feel any better, regardless of what I think about the whole soulmate thing, I really hope that it does work out. Because I know it means a lot to you.” Tatsu is quiet on the other end of the line and Tomo presses the back of his hand to his own mouth, more than a little shocked at this coming from Tatsu of all people, but knowing how much more it means because it comes from him. “Good luck today. Let me know how it goes. If he hurts you, I’ll smack him.”

That makes Tomo laugh, and he pushes away his now empty mug as he stands up. “I will. I’m going to go shower and get dressed, and then I’ll see if he wants to do anything today.”

They say their goodbyes and Tomo heads upstairs, his eyes roving over every inch of his home in the process. He had been smart when designing this house, had hired someone who had found their soulmate and could see in color so that everything would be soft, and pretty, and easy on his eyes when he was able to see all of it for himself. He’s satisfied with his choices.

The bathroom in particular in its easy shades of blue with the butter yellow of the sunlight spilling through the window is beautiful, and he enjoys that for a moment before undressing and starting the water. Then he takes a long, good look at his own reflection in the mirror.

Looking at himself like this feels familiar, and feels not familiar, and that confuses him more than anything else. What had happened in his past, for this to feel like something that has occurred before? What kind of deja vu is this, and what could have possibly caused it?

He chooses not to linger— he has Mabo to see today, and a life to lead, and he wants to do his best to be the best soulmate he can possibly be— so he steps into the shower and takes care to wash every inch of his skin and scrub his hair all the way down to the roots. He does get distracted a few times, his eyes straying to the way the sunlight looks reflecting off of his wet skin, before reminding himself he has to get back down to business and get cleaned up.

In his bedroom, towel wrapped around his waist, he hesitates over his wardrobe. Mabo has already seen him dressed in a more feminine style, a style he prefers and tries to get away with as often as he can. He tries to talk himself out of the style— the last thing he wants to do is alienate Mabo, after all— but ends up settling on a white skirt almost as light as air.

“If he doesn’t like me the way I am, this isn’t going to work,” Tomo murmurs to himself, glancing at himself in the mirror. “I told myself a long time ago I wasn’t going to change for anyone.”

When he checks his phone, he already has text messages from Mabo and can’t help the little smile that tugs at his lips. Mabo has been thinking about him today, already, and even though it means next to nothing right now, he can’t help but feel a little lighter at the thought. He sits down on the edge of his bed, phone in hand, worrying his lower lip between his teeth as he reads over the messages a few times. They had talked about potential dinner, but Mabo would like to see him sooner, if possible. Tomo almost snorts at that; what else is he going to be doing today, anyway? He glances at the clock. They can meet whenever Mabo wants.

[I can pick you up now, if you’d like, then. Or as close to now as you want. I don’t want to rush you out of the house but I’d like to see you again as soon as possible.]

[I’m actually up and dressed so I wouldn’t mind if you wanted to come pick me up now. I don’t kow what you want to do, though. You haven’t said, yet.]

[We have an entire city spread out before us and most of the day to do whatever we want. I’m sure we can figure out some way to pass the time together.]

Together. The single word makes Tomo’s chest ache more than it should, more than he wants it to, and he has to press a hand over his mouth before he replies.

[I’ll be waiting, don’t keep me long =)]

He heads downstairs to wait, playing with his fingers, the bottom of his shirt.

Never in a million years did he think finding his soulmate would be like this, this insistent need to see Mabo, to want to speak to him. To blush over a few little text messages.

All this time, he thought he would be prepared for this moment. He thought he would be ready when he saw color (again, saw color again) but there was no being ready for this.

He plops down on his couch and lets his head fall forward into his hands, pushing inky black curls back behind his ears. Everything feels like so much all at once, and yet everything feels wonderful. He feels light and gauzy like a small breeze would be enough to blow him away.

And at the back of his mind is that sensation of deja vu, that this has happened before. He had attributed it to just the colors at first and had always wondered, but there’s more to it than that. Mabo feels familiar, like someone he knew before now, someone he had met somewhere else… But where? Surely he would have remembered someone like Mabo in his life.

The sound of a car outside cuts his thoughts off. He’ll worry about all of this later.

#tokio #tok10fam #masahiro matsuoka #tomoya nagase #mabonaga #tatsuya yamaguchi #soulmate au #*f: mine #f: tko #f: mabonaga #f: love you only

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norihisahyuga-archived · 8 years ago

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An Arrangement (2/?)

Matsuoka Masahiro/Nagase Tomoya Tokio 3600~ words. Nsfw.

Masahiro Matsuoka is an incubus who just wants a casual partner, too tired to hunt down his meals individually and leery of those who form attachments too easily. Tomoya Nagase laughs at the idea of attachment; everyone has always sent him away when they are done with him, so he has no reason to try anymore. Their situations suit each other perfectly. Unfortunately, they also suit each other perfectly, and that was something neither of them expected. For @chlance of course.

Tomo would not be following this incubus back to his hotel room if not for the mention of Shige’s name. Shigeru Joshima has long been a friend of Tomo’s, back when he was new to the city and had come to this bar looking for a drink and some kind of way to touch base in a new place. Tomo had offered his companionship for the evening on the basis he had never been with an immortal human before, but he had instead ended up with Shige’s head on his shoulder as Shige told him about the long, joyless life he had led. In more ways than one, Tomo trusts him.

And trusting Shige means he can trust the demon whose hand remains firmly wrapped around his wrist, the grip much stronger than Tomo would have expected considering he agreed to come back to this room. Frowning, he gives a little tug, and Matsuoka turns to look at him.

“You’re squeezing my wrist too tightly,” he says as demurely as he can, and he’s pleased to see a flash of apologism in Matsuoka’s eyes before he releases his wrist before taking him by the hand.

He wants no attachments, and that is something Tomo can appreciate. In the past, he had been determined to find a master who would take him in and take care of him. He hadn’t exaggerated needing to be kept, to be pampered and taken care of for this to work, but he was never content with passing through the beds of those willing to humor him for the time it took him to spread his legs and offer up what they wanted. No, he had been searching for something permanent.

And when nothing had presented itself, and person after person after person had failed to live up to the promises they whispered in his ear, he had given up on the idea that he would be able to find someone to remain his. Now, he just lives from one arrangement to the next, spending his free evenings at the house uptown where he pays to keep a room reserved for himself.

The hotel is much nicer, though, which is not surprising. With an untold amount of centuries in his back pocket, Matsuoka appears to have spent that time gathering his wealth. The suite is lavish and Tomo toys with the idea of throwing himself across the bed, rolling in the sheets and the comforter until his scent covers every surface. Instead, he tugs his hand free of Matsuoka’s and roams around the room, nose twitching as he takes in his new surroundings.

There is a living room, a small table with a kitchenette, and the bedroom is through a pair of open French doors. Tomo gives the living space a dismissive glance— they have no purpose for this, not right now— before turning and heading for the bedroom. He can hear Matsuoka following in his footsteps and he smiles at the sound, glancing over his shoulder and through the curtain of his hair to see the incubus watching him with a curious expression. Tomo knows he can’t possibly be the only cat demon this incubus has met in his life, but Matsuoka is acting as though he is.

“I like this room,” Tomo says, lowering himself onto the edge of the bed.

“I like nice rooms.” Matsuoka comes to stand in front of him, hands tucked into his pockets, head cocked to the side, obviously waiting. “We can start however you want. I don’t mind.”

Tomo hums at the thought, letting himself fall back against the plush comforter, sighing at the cushioning beneath his back. “My feet are a little sore,” he murmurs. “Rub them for me?”

“I wonder if they’re sore because you’re wearing these boots.” Matsuoka raises an eyebrow at him and Tomo grins, lifting one foot, surprised when Matsuoka actually catches him by the heel. “I’m very surprised to see these aren’t heeled boots. That means you’re just naturally taller than me.”

“You’re making a big deal out of an inch or two. Take my boots off.” Tomo gives his foot a wiggle for emphasis and grins when Matsuoka rolls his eyes but does as he says.

He has tights for when he wears his boots, but he’d wanted the advantage of his bare legs tonight, so instead he has thick, fuzzy socks to cushion his feet as much as possible. Matsuoka is patient, working his boots off of his feet before peeling his socks off, his skin a little cold against Tomo’s bare skin, but he warms up quickly. Tomo wants to ask if that’s because of what he is, if his body warms up because of his incubus genetics, but he loses quick track of his coherent thoughts when Matsuoka actually starts massaging his feet.

His hands are strong, his fingers finding the knots and stiffness in Tomo’s muscles, and he mewls softly, his back arching against the comforter. It feels good, better than he would have expected, and he notices the flash of black across Matsuoka’s vision. Is him writhing around on the bed from a foot massage enough to whet the man’s appetite? What an interesting thought…

“Shige told me you would probably be wearing something like a dress,” Matsuoka says, his hands sliding up, away from Tomo’s feet, fingers smoothing over his bare ankles. “He said you like to dress femme. I wasn’t expecting you to look this good in a dress, though.”

“I’m sorry I didn’t pick something less flattering,” Tomo murmurs, his eyes drifting closed when Matsuoka’s sweep along the curves of his calves, his stomach tightening instinctively.

Matsuoka chuckles fingers hooking in the back of Tomo’s knees. “I like what you’re wearing, as surprising as it was for me. I was wondering how much of this I would be able to convince you to keep on while I was inside of you. The shape suits you so well.”

“Pervert.” Tomo kicks a foot at him, not even trying to hit him in the process, but he sees Matsuoka pause just the same and is satisfied. “I don’t want anything to happen to the dress. I like it too much. If this works out, then I do have clothing you can fuck me in.”

“That sounds fair to me,” Matsuoka says, and then his hands begin climbing higher once again.

He has to climb onto the bed once his hands are on Tomo’s thighs, and Tomo spreads his legs to give him room to settle between them. Having the incubus above him, inches away from his underwear, excites him, makes a flush crawl up his neck and down his chest beneath the dress. While he doesn’t make it a habit to feed sex demons— some of them are too hard to control— this one smells good, smells rich and musky and the scent makes Tomo hungry to taste with tongue and teeth. He wonders what Matsuoka would look like carrying the shape of his teeth in his throat, the lines of his claws on his back. They’ll just have to find out.

Matsuoka’s hands slide up his thighs until he hits the lace of Tomo’s underwear, leaning back a bit, a bemused smile on his lips. “You do not disappoint,” he muses. “Let’s take the dress off. I want to see underneath, but I want to see all of it.”

Tomo takes the opportunity to slide up and away from Matsuoka, setting up on his knees, pulling the dress up and over his head. The transparent black lace camisole matches the just-as transparent black lace underwear and he hears Matsuoka’s breath hitch, watches his eyes bleed black and notices the way his Adam’s apple bobs. Tomo flicks his head, shaking his hair out of his eyes, and leans back against the pillows, his tail curling around his hip.

“I don’t always dress this nice,” he muses, snapping the waistband of the underwear against his skin. “You’re a lucky, lucky demon, you know that? Now, are you just going to watch?”

Matsuoka shakes his head hard, a low growl rumbling up from his chest that makes Tomo’s ears twitch. “What are you fine with? I don’t want to do anything you don’t want to do.”

“You can mark me up, but you aren’t allowed to bleed me this early. Maybe later, when I know I can really trust you.” Tomo slips a hand down his belly to where his cock is trapped beneath the lace, his own breath tripping when he massages himself. “I can’t catch anything, and neither can you, so skipping a condom is fine. If I say stop, you stop. I don’t care how much you enjoy it.”

“I would never ask you to do something for me you didn’t want to do,” Matsuoka says.

Tomo runs his tongue across his lower lip and nods once, then stretches his arms up over his head, fingers curling around the rails on the headboard. “You can touch me,” he says.

That must have been the only permission Matsuoka was waiting for before he pounces, landing on all fours above where Tomo is waiting. His heart thuds hard against his ribs in warning, the reaction of a prey caught beneath a predator, and Tomo laughs at himself a little, pressing his head back into the pillows. If he had thought about it, this isn’t that surprising— And then Matsuoka’s head dips down, and Tomo is too focused on kissing to think about anything.

Matsuoka's kiss is more forceful, hungrier, more demanding than in the club and Tomo’s head lifts from the pillows, his lips and tongue determined to keep up. Matsuoka kisses him open-mouthed and wet, his tongue curling around Tomo’s, his teeth pulling at Tomo’s lips not enough to hurt but enough to make them swollen, more sensitive to touch. And Tomo chases him, bites him back, licks desperately up into his mouth, aware of how vulnerable he is in just his lingerie when Matsuoka is still fully dressed above him, almost pinning him to the bed.

“You’re wearing an awful lot of clothes for sex,” Tomo observes.

“My apologies, Nagase.” Matsuoka leans back on his knees, pulling his shirt up over his head, and Tomo has to bite back a whimper at the sight of him. He’s not overly muscular but he’s toned and tanned and Tomo wants to leave his teeth and his scent on every inch of him.

“Tomo,” he corrects, and he sees the incubus pause, tilt his head. “If we’re going to be doing this, you can call me Tomo. It’s… I don’t let that many people use it, but still.”

Matsuoka cocks his head to the side, thoughtful. “Tomo,” he murmurs. “Very well. I don’t have a nickname, but if you want to give me one, you can.”

The offer seems to come out of nowhere, but Tomo takes it seriously, rolling shortened versions of Matsuoka’s name around in his head for a few moments before settling on one he likes. “Mabo,” he finally says, and he doesn’t miss the way the corner of Matsuoka’s mouth lifts.

“Mabo,” he echoes. “I can do that. Did you want me entirely naked?”

Tomo smirks. “That would be preferable, yes.”

He strips off his camisole as quickly as he can so he can watch, already planning to leave his teeth marks in those toned thighs, on those hip bones, anywhere he can. If he’s going to be with this incubus for any length of time, he plans on marking him, scenting him, making sure that everyone knows that Tomo has been on his body. It has nothing to do with permanence and everything to do with the fact he is not going to so much as entertain the idea of people looking at Mabo without knowing that he has someone attached to him.

When his boxers come off and Tomo sees how hard he is, he pushes himself up, stretches a hand out to touch, curls his fingers around where Mabo is hard and throbbing for him. The beat of his pulse in the vein running down his cock is mesmerizing; Tomo runs his fingers over the sensitive head, then lifts them to his lips, licking the pre-come from them.

“Very much like a cat,” Mabo murmurs, though the strain in his voice says it all.

His hands go back to Tomo’s thighs as he leans in to kiss him, all teeth and insistence and Tomo rakes his fingers through his hair, holds him close by the scalp, hooks a leg around his waist because he can. He’s hard and straining against the lace now, panting opening against Mabo’s mouth, not ready for the incubus to tilt his head, lick a hot stripe up Tomo’s face that makes him yelp and squirm.

“Gross,” he mutters, and Mabo smothers a laugh against the side of his neck.

“You taste delicious.” Another hot, wet line up his throat, all the way to the edge of his jaw, and Tomo whimpers at that, his head falling back in open offering. “I could make a meal out of you just doing this, I think. Tasting every inch of you and drinking in your pleasure.”

Tomo bites down on his lip, shivers all over. “Please,” he says, and isn’t sure what he’s asking for.

Mabo’s tongue and lips are wet on his throat, his teeth nipping and nibbling but not enough to hurt, just enough to leave little pink marks in their wake. He leaves a bruise over Tomo’s collarbone where anyone will be able to see, a smirk edging at his lips as he does, his tongue hot on Tomo’s nipples until Tomo has to push his head away, too sensitive to take more.

There are similar marks littered on the soft skin of his belly, and then Mabo hooks a finger in the waistband of his underwear, tugging it down just enough to lay a reverent kiss on Tomo’s hip. There is something decidedly different about the way he looks up at him now, his eyes black as coal, reflecting the light eerily, and Tomo might have been afraid if he was human. He wonders how sex demons can feed from humans without terrifying them to death in the process.

He takes his time peeling the underwear down, his lips leaving not an inch of Tomo’s skin untouched, tongue warm on his skin. Then he leans back to pull them down his thighs, tossing them aside, leaving Tomo naked against the sheets. He doesn’t want to know what he looks like, his pulse hammering against the base of his throat, his cock dribbling against his belly, fingers grasping the headboard so he has something to brace himself with. Mabo looks at him look a banquet, hunger fervent in his gaze, and Tomo wonders how long it had been since the last time, how much he had starved himself before coming here for relief.

“Such a pretty kitten.” Mabo’s fingers curl around his cock, starting a slow and easy rhythm that Tomo easily matches with his hips, fucking up into the warm fist. “I would keep you here if I could, keep you here and make you beg. Would you like that?”

Tomo trembles at the promise, teeth sinking into his lower lip to muffle a whine.

“Ah, ah. Don’t do that.” Mabo catches his lip, draws it from between his teeth, his thumb smoothing over the indents Tomo’s teeth had left in his own skin. “Poor little thing. I won’t make you beg. You’re so hard for me, so wet. It wouldn’t be fair to you.”

The hand at Tomo’s face dips lower, cupping the weight of his balls, and he squirms, pressing his cheek into the pillow, panting and whining against his own arm as Mabo works him over. He isn’t watching, isn’t paying attention, isn’t prepared for the hand around him to be replaced with a hot, wet mouth that nearly sends him over the edge, a tongue that laps at him slow and long.

“Fuck, fuck.” He lets go of the headboard, grabs Mabo by the hair, sinks his fingers in and holds onto him while Mabo’s lips wrap around his shaft. “Fuck, Mabo, warn me next time,” he hisses, and his eyes nearly cross when Mabo hums around in, probably in acknowledgment.

He’s too busy fucking up into the heat of Mabo’s mouth to notice the incubus grabbing the lubricant, just shivers when cool, slick fingers curl inside of him to open him up. He’s done this enough that it’s not hard to open him up, not really, not anymore; Mabo’s first two fingers slide into him with little to no resistance at all, and Tomo presses down on them, opening himself up. Eager to have Mabo inside of him, to feel that cock stretching him open. It’s been too long; he can’t imagine what Mabo is feeling right now, how much any of this feeds his appetite.

Mabo is, at least, experienced enough to know how to touch him. The tongue curling around his shaft, the way he bobs his head, the way he hollows his cheeks even as his fingers curl up and press, finding that spot just inside of Tomo that makes his toes curl and his helpless mewls turn into soft yowls. His tail smacks hard against the bed, his ears flattening down on his head, and Mabo growls, and the vibrations are almost enough to make him come.

There’s a wet pop when Mabo finally comes up for air, having lasted far longer than any mortal had, his lips red and slick and Tomo reaches for him even as his legs fall open, wide open, an invitation he wants to beg Mabo to accept. There are three fingers inside of him now, and it’s not enough, not for him and most certainly not for the demon.

“Fuck me,” he croons, tightening himself around Mabo’s fingers, mewling when Mabo growls at him again. “I’m ready, fuck, I’m so ready. Fuck me, Mabo, please, Master.”

The last word is probably what makes Mabo snap, far more than the begging, and he’s just suddenly between Tomo’s thighs, hands beneath his knees, spreading him wide open. He has very little time to brace himself before he’s filled to the brim with Mabo’s cock, wide and hard and hitting him deep, and his toes curl hard, his back arching off of the mattress, forcing him down, forcing more into him on that first thrust. And Mabo growls, again, and Tomo yowls back at him, reaching for him, desperate to touch, for contact, for warmth. He needs it, he needs—

And Mabo is above him, one hand braced by his head, face nuzzling down against his as Tomo wraps his arms around him, clinging to him. “I’m sorry,” Mabo whispers against his ear, nuzzling into the soft fur, and Tomo hugs him tighter. “You need the contact, I know, I see now, I’m sorry. I’m here, Tomo, sweet kitten, I’ve got you. Master’s got you, okay?”

The one-eighty is surprising, more surprising than anything else, and Tomo relishes in it, wrapping his legs around Mabo’s waist, holding him as close as he can while the incubus nuzzles him and strokes his side, gentle and soothing. “Thank you.”

“I’ve got you.” Mabo stays against him, stays close, as he rolls his hips, the slight in-out making Tomo mewl softly, his eyes falling closed. “I’ve got you, kitten. Just trust me.”

It’s enough that Tomo relaxes, his legs falling boneless against the bed, his arms loose around Mabo’s shoulders, and the incubus slips an arm beneath him, curling around his back as he shifts from gentle to hard and fast and deep. It’s a thrill, the way his hips move, the pace, the sheer impact of him, and Tomo does his best to keep up, clawing at Mabo’s back and shoulders until his fingers give way to claws and he feels the skin break beneath them.

Mabo doesn’t have to touch him. He’s sensitized enough and close enough that when Mabo’s cock drags over his prostate just right, he comes in sticky white ropes over his stomach, some all the way up to his chest. Sensitive, so sensitive, he’s lucky Mabo comes soon after, hot and wet inside of him, before falling down against him, their bodies fitting so neatly together.

Tomo purrs as he nuzzles against Mabo’s face, rubbing his cheek hard against the incubus’s skin, intent on leaving his scent behind so everyone knows. The purr deepens when a hand slips up beside his face, higher, finding the base of one of his ears and rubbing slow and easy.

“You’re beautiful.” Mabo kisses his cheek, soft and sloppy, and Tomo’s purr deepens even further. “Let me see… You need to stay with me. You need attention, and physical contact, and not just in the form of sex. Cuddling, petting, talking. You need to be, as you put it, kept.”

Tomo nods, and his tail curls up, past his hip and around Mabo’s waist, keeping their bodies close together. “Those are my terms, yes. And now you know how I am in bed, Master.”

“There is still a lot to learn about you, I think.” Mabo’s lips brush against the side of his neck and Tomo mewls, tilting his head a little, letting Mabo kiss the skin there. “But I’m sure we’ll have enough time to learn all about each other during this arrangement.”

Again, Tomo nods, then tucks his head up under Mabo’s chin, intent on getting cuddles from his Master before the post-sex exhaustion lulls him to sleep. Maybe this won’t be so sad, after all.

#tokio #tok10fam #tomoya nagase #masahiro matsuoka #mabonaga #*f: mine #f: tko #f: mabonaga #f: an arrangement

4 notes · View notes