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The Shape of You

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 "Say boy,

Let's not talk too much, grab on my waist and put that body on me

Come on now, follow my lead

I'm in love with the shape of you

We push and pull like a magnet do

Although my heart is falling too

I'm in love with your body."

"Shape of You" by Ed Sheeran


 Dancing is a strange and rather foreign concept to Sousuke.

Not once has he ever been possessed by such manic joy that he could not physically contain it; he is unfamiliar with that restless sort of excitement. Dancing is not necessary, it is excess action, and Sousuke has always avoided such in his life.

Growing up in foster care, he carried a strange fear about taking up too much space by simply being, so his walks to the kitchen for blind grabs of cereal were quick, and painfully careful. He worried that he would somehow lose control of his lanky limbs, which had grown too fast and so excruciatingly, like his wrists were tied to one end of a rope and there were running horses at the other end, stretching his arms out until he did not know how to let them swing. He feared that he would accidentally knock something over in the stranger’s house – that would result in being sent to yet another stranger’s house, and Sousuke’s physical awkwardness would find a way to fuck that up, too.

Sousuke grew into himself and realized that bodily awareness was important. As he climbed the military ranks, he discovered that body language can be a medium of weariness, hostility, or assertion. He looked like he had confidence in his tactical decisions when he lifted his chin and squared his shoulders; he hid fearful tremors in his voice by shouting orders. But then he noticed Makoto dip his head to listen to his soldiers, or saw him squeeze someone’s shoulder in reassurance before a mission. Makoto taught Sousuke that softer gestures could make stronger connections with soldiers, and that resulted in better teamwork, and more people staying alive to go home.

But as far as moving excessively, thrashing to express happiness – that is still a frustrating concept to Sousuke, because it is not like he is a complete dumbass when it comes to physically expressing emotions. Take affection for instance. He does not hesitate to hug his mother when he sees her, and always dips down for her to kiss his forehead before she leaves. He kisses Rin as much as he can, whether that be in public under the weight of stares or drunk in the bath on moonless nights.

But having the urge to dance?

Sousuke is not capable of such. He uses his legs to run for his life, not to sway. His life has been teeth and fists, an eighteen-hour overtime grind, a bending swoop too close to the edge. He can admit that his life is a dance with the devil, a multitude of missed steps and failures. Anger and exhaustion are usually his spectrum of physical emotion, and those two feelings shake him like a trembling-hot vessel as he starts his fifteenth hour of complete and utter horse shit at the police station.

He really should not have expected the day to go right when the morning started with taking his police dog, his Echo, to surgery. Last week, the veterinarian discovered that bullet fragments from being shot in Iraq were threatening to infect Echo’s tissue – or something like that. Sousuke mentally blacked out at “surgery,” but he heard the vet loud and clear when she said that he was to leave Echo at the office the morning of the operation. He would not be able to take her home or even see her until the next day.  

After just a few hours without Echo, Sousuke is ready to go back to his Special Forces days and infiltrate the vet’s office just to crawl up in a kennel with her.

So, needless to say, the day is doomed from the start. After Sousuke drops Echo off, he smears wet, hot frustration out from under his eyes and barrels through traffic to get to work. Upon stepping one foot, one toe, into the police station, all hell breaks loose because of course it does.

Right after he’s told there is no coffee in the near fucking vicinity, scandalized cries erupt in the mail room because a beetle the size of God is running wild. About that time, Momotarou zips by with a really disturbing light in his eyes, so Sousuke reaches his office and locks the door on that situation, but as it turns out, he is just walking into a trap.

Three hours later, the phone is overheated against Sousuke’s face and his head is throbbing because some city landmark was damaged in his latest shootout with Diamond Back and the historical society thinks that suing Sousuke will be sufficient “consolement for the damages.”

He hangs up on them twice before water authority beeps in about pipe vandalism. Add on another two hours of getting cussed out about shit that is not even his deal.

Sousuke’s nerves melt down to a bubbling puddle at his feet and he flees the station, his squad car hitting one hundred and ten miles per hour in record time. The glory ride lasts a mere fifty-three seconds before the radio goes off and Seijuro flies by with his sirens blaring, which spikes a headache between Sousuke’s brows.

So then Sousuke pops a tire. Of course.

Then Seijuro whirls back around to bring him a jack but upon arrival, the bastard almost staggers into traffic because he is laughing his ass off at Sousuke’s expense.

Bolting the spare on is a short-lived victory since answering that radio call results in three high speed chases, one broken set of handcuffs, five interrogations, and Sousuke eating up ten magazines worth of bullets at the shooting range in a failed attempt to blow off steam.

The sunset drips gold and purple down Sousuke’s office walls at the end of the day, and he is drifting off when his cell phone buzzes. Exhaustion is hot in his muscles as he opens his message inbox, but reading the text makes his boiling frustration melt into warm affection deep in his chest.

you left this morning without saying goodbye you cockbite

Sousuke goes to type out an apology before another message comes through, this one also from Rin.

you should come by samezuka after work. it’s happy hour and all that shit. and i’m here.

Sousuke is thinking about how perfect that would be when another message shows up and freezes him to the bone.

and you forgot our brunch date at 2. for the third time this week.

He cranes back. Then he remembers in a sickening lurch.

“Fuck,” he groans, sinking down in his chair. He pinches the bridge of his nose, working his fingers over the tension gathered there, and sighs. He dials Rin’s number.

Rin answers with all the attitude in the world, clearing his throat with a knowing and smug, “Mmmhmm?”

Oh, thank God he sounds at least a little amused, even if he is exasperated. Sousuke would take a swan dive for the nearest gutter if he made Rin cry on top of everything else he did wrong today. He takes a deep breath, knowing that he has got some serious ass to kiss, but he is going to do it all with a willing heart. “You’re a gift to mankind that I don’t deserve.”

Rin does not even falter. “True. What else?”

“You could charge the most boring and repetitive shark documentaries in the world to my credit card and I’d thank you for it.” 

A smirk curls his voice. “And?”

“I’d tell you what I’d do to you if I had you on this desk right now, but anything I say would probably be a lie because it’s covered in sensitive paperwork that I can’t sweep off. I made five arrests today.”

Rin startles a laugh. “Well damn, baby. Where was all that enthusiasm last night?”

“Probably lost it after the three-hour nature special about amazonian piranhas.”

Rin purrs, mischievous and soft. “Don’t act like you don’t like –” His teeth click against the mouth piece, right into Sousuke’s ear, and he flashes hot. “A little bite.”

“I’m not acting like that,” Sousuke assures. “I do like it, but there’s only so much I can do after I’ve sat there for three hours trying not to fall asleep.”

Rin scoffs, unimpressed. “The least you could do was not fall asleep on top of me.” Sousuke does not even remember that, which says a lot about how tired he has been lately. “Or maybe – fuck, I don’t know, maybe wake me up and kiss me goodbye like you’re always supposed to?” His voice is pulled taut across the edge of hurt. There is hidden fear in the tremor of his words – a terror that always comes with Sousuke walking out the door or hanging up the phone because anything could happen to him as a cop. Anything could take him away from Rin, and they have been reminded of that far too many times.

Sousuke’s heart clenches. “I’m sorry, I was running late. But that’s a shit excuse,” he is quick to admit. “And I won’t use it again. I’ll wake you up and kiss you goodbye next time, no matter what.” I’ll never stop kissing you. “And I’ll take you to brunch tomorrow, where ever you want.”

Rin is quiet, the distant music of Samezuka pulsing in the silence. He finally sighs, and it is pitched with relief, exhaustion, love. “Okay. I’m sorry, I’m not trying to be such a miserable, limp dick, but I’ve had to go all day without seeing you.” The confession is one of raw ache and his pouty smile is audible. “I haven’t been kissed for a whole day, Sou. I wish you’d come do something about it…”

Sousuke’s entire purpose shifts. He rears up with new-found vigor and does not hesitate to leave his paperwork stacked to the ceiling before making a mad dash for his squad car.


Again, nothing comes easily. Sousuke is forced to park three blocks away from Samezuka because it is a Friday night in Iwatobi and the streets are packed. The evening humidity turns his walk into an exhausting sludge, and inside the club is even worse because the air is drenched in body heat and there are people everywhere.

Samezuka has a pulse of its own, speakers throbbing like a heartbeat. It builds a fire in Sousuke’s veins, dragging chills over his skin. The air is tight, wet with heat. Spilled whiskey and cigar smoke soaks through the warm smell of sex coming from the bathroom or maybe a maintenance closet. Red light pours over the dance floor, where bodies grind together so tightly that nothing but the slide of sweat gets between them.

Sousuke quickly makes way for the bar but struggles to break through the crowd. Relief sinks into his shoulders when he recognizes someone at the counter – even if he is not particularly fond of the person, they act as an anchor in the sea of people.

Haru is one of the bartenders for the evening rush, dressed in a black uniform shirt unbuttoned at the collarbones. He is in rare form tonight, smiling, his voice an intimate murmur that he only uses when talking with the guy perched on the stool across from him. Sousuke watches Haru’s pale fingers play through tan, calloused ones. Those thicker fingers stretch from wide hands, muscled forearms, and flannel sleeves rolled up to the elbows. Pink, scaly burns peek out from under the fabric. They are burn scars that Sousuke recognizes; they are scars he and that guy earned together as soldiers.

Makoto turns before Haru does, feeling the weight of Sousuke’s gaze even from across the room. It is not a surprise – Makoto has the most powerful sense of physical awareness in any space, no matter the environment. He can probably dance since he can do most things that Sousuke cannot, like watch a Nicholas Sparks marathon and find something worth crying over in every single movie. Actually, he knows that Makoto dances because at one get-together, Natsuya tried to call Haru unromantic, and that stone-cold piece of work assured Natsuya that he and Makoto have had plenty of drunken, 3 A.M. slow dances to ‘Can’t Help Falling in Love’. Sousuke tried not to puke when he heard that, whereas Rin stared with a reverent face full of tears and proclaimed that was the most beautiful thing he’d ever heard.

That kind of made Sousuke rethink the whole premise of dancing. Just a little, distantly.

Makoto’s surprised smile is one of genuine delight, and while Haru’s nod of greeting is nowhere near as enthusiastic, he and Sousuke can at least see each other without scowling as much as they once did.

Sousuke slumps into the stool next to Makoto, grinning tiredly when he clasps his left shoulder. “Glad to see you made it though working nine days straight,” Makoto says.

Sousuke breathes a laugh. “Thanks.” He cranes back a little when Haru slides him his usual, a glass of Russian vodka that tastes like battery acid and hits like a train. “Oh. Thank you,” he says to Haru.

Haru shrugs as he towels the inside of a pitcher dry. “You look like you need it.”

Sousuke cannot even begin to say how much of an understatement that is, so instead, he takes a gracious sip of his drink. The alcohol is chilled but fire erupts in his throat as he swallows. His nerves tremble, startled, then sink into warm relaxation. Sousuke eases back in his chair and regards Makoto, his voice a slow drip of honey. “How’d this week of final exams go at the elementary school?”

Makoto levels him with a thousand-yard stare, which says enough. He shakes his head, looking downright haunted, and lifts his glass to take a deep swallow of something so strong that Sousuke’s eyes sting when he smells it. Haru smirks, “He had a kid puke on her test today. It couldn’t be thrown away – it had to be confiscated by the Board of Education. Like – all of it.”

Sousuke’s stomach churns. “That’s fucking gross.”

“I know,” Makoto muffles, face buried against his arm on the table.

Haru gives a fond roll of his eyes and pets through hazel strands, arching a brow at Sousuke. “Most of the teachers have been here since school ended. Nagisa and Kisumi are around here somewh–”

The most obnoxious song imaginable blasts to life, pink strobe lights flashing with the beat. With dread, Sousuke and Haru turn to see two familiar people roaring the lyrics and spraying champagne, thrashing more than dancing, their hands raised to the heavens to praise the glory of another ended semester.

Haru’s mouth firms into a line, eyes flat. “Found them.”

Sousuke finishes his drink in less than two minutes because it is the only way he survives that awful song. With the next song, the rhythm shifts, and there is a sudden change in the air that nobody caused or can control. Heat builds in the dark like thunder rolling toward the breaking point. The bassline ripples drinks in glasses and startles Sousuke, his veins left hotter with each throb of music. The searchlights roam over the stages and platforms where silhouettes circle poles in a red haze of smoke. The crowd screams themselves hoarse but they are distant to Sousuke’s ears.

There are feminine sweeps of hips, long legs spread in eight inch heels; there are bare chests sculpted with thick rows of abs and muscles rippling under tattoos. The shadows hide faces, but Sousuke knows which one is Rin. He would recognize him by the warmth of him alone; Sousuke would know him blind, by the thickness of his scars and the sweet cushion of his lips. He would know Rin in any darkness, in death.

Rin senses Sousuke’s presence through smoke and shadow, finding him so easily in the overwhelming crowd. Their eyes lock and magnets surge in their chests, needing to lock their bodies together. Rin’s tongue darts out, piercing flashing in the light, and his teeth snag his lower lip as his eyes roam over Sousuke. Rin’s hips are restless at the sight of him, grinding back against the pole, and his gaze whispers to Sousuke, this is for you.

I’m dancing for you.

Sousuke’s blood catches fire.  

Rin holds his eyes as he sinks to the floor with his legs opened into a split, rendering Sousuke’s throat so tight that he cannot swallow – his breath is nothing but heat. Rin twists an arm around the pole to raise his hips off the floor and ducks his head underneath them to flip upside down. The show of flexibility enraptures the room but Rin is oblivious to everyone but Sousuke.

His legs tangle around the pole and with it squeezed between his calves, he hauls himself up, spinning as he climbs. His belly ring scrapes against the metal and the sound has pressure curling in the deepest part of Sousuke, his abs clenching. Rin bends in the most graceful arc, his body arched in a perfect crescent, and his throat is an open, exposed curve that Sousuke wants to bite.

He is the only one who knows what the heat of Rin’s skin tastes like. People can look and throw money at what they see, but Sousuke has had those legs wrapped around his head, his hips, and nobody else here has. Gone are the days Rin spent as a rentboy – his body belongs completely to himself now and Sousuke is the only person he shares it with. Sousuke has the pleasure of peeling off those latex tights to see what is underneath, drags them down thighs like satin, muscles like marble. Sousuke’s tongue has traced the skull with a mouthful of roses tattooed on Rin’s leg and he can bite the bows inked into the backs of his thighs. He has kissed every one of Rin’s scars, mouthed at them wet and soft, and it’s one of the most intimate acts Sousuke has ever been a part of, addicting, an honor. He is the only one that Rin trusts with unraveling him, and there is nobody else in the world Sousuke would rather have leaving red streaks of passion down his back.

Never has anyone made Sousuke feel like such a raw, open nerve, but Rin does it effortlessly, and makes his heart melt out of every pore with one shy, evasive smile.

Sousuke is so fucking in love with him.

Rin’s body straightens, the long line of his back parallel with the pole. He swings his legs out and twists his hips around to wrap his thighs around it, leaning back to spin upside down.

Then he drops.

Sousuke’s heart lurches up his throat like it always does when Rin does dangerous tricks, but as usual, Rin catches himself at the last second, fists twisted around the pole, feet hitting flat against the floor, and the impact purposely swoops his hips down in a slow, deep grind against the music.

Sousuke smirks behind his hand, shaking his head in disbelief, which makes Rin grin like an idiot. He stretches out across the stage and twists his waist off the floor in a leisure wind, drawing the room’s tension out to an aching thing. He rolls onto his front in an effortlessly smooth motion. His back arches slowly, spine flexing more and more until his pierced nipples scrape the floor, and his ass is raised and his eyes are on Sousuke, only for Sousuke, and he is just so damn lucky that he cannot even comprehend this is real life.

Makoto laughs. “Sousuke, you’d better put your tongue back in your mouth before you start drooling.”

He did not even realize his jaw had dropped, but he still shoves Makoto, and Makoto pushes back with an equal – okay, challenging – amount of strength. Before it can turn into a brawl, Haru throws a handful of corks at them and their protests are met with a glare of warning, which shuts their shit down pretty quickly.

Rin’s routine ends in thunderous applause and a twister of flying money. He scrambles it up with a dazzling smile and leaves the stage to Aki, who spins the dancers through a number that Sousuke does not even notice as Rin saunters toward him.

He slips on his combat boots as he walks and pulls on a tank top that rides up his waist, the onyx in his navel twinkling between flexed abs. He shakes his hair from its tie and people stare, their bodies straining to approach him, but Rin bypasses everyone to step between Sousuke’s thighs and lick into him hard, claiming what is his.

Heat flares up Sousuke’s spine and twists. He kisses Rin with a force that leaves his lips pounding and draws him closer with hands under his shirt. He squeezes into his muscles deeply enough to feel Rin’s pulse twitching in his skin, racing. Rin’s tongue ring is a spark in Sousuke’s mouth, jolting him, and he laves against it, every brush throbbing up the length of his cock.

Haru’s voice is flatter than roadkill. “Did you think his tonsils were that pink?”

“Haru, God,” Makoto startles. “Don’t.”

Rin laughs at their expense and leans back to catch his breath, tucking his forehead against Sousuke’s temple. He keeps himself locked in the cage of Sousuke’s embrace with arms tight and secure around his neck. Rin smiles, his face colored in a shimmering peach hue. “Did you like your dance?”  

“Fuck, I loved it,” Sousuke breathes with reverence, shaping Rin’s jaw to delve into his mouth once more. He kisses down the sensitive juncture of his neck and shoulder, over and over until Rin is a giggling mess. Sousuke grins, softly closing their lips together. “I love you.”

Warmth flares off Rin’s skin, his affection for Sousuke is so strong. “You’re layin’ the apology on thick tonight, aren’t you?” With a playful smirk, his nails drag lightly against Sousuke’s scalp, making chills shudder down his neck. “Such a smart man when he wants to be~”

Sousuke rolls his eyes but takes the abuse, knowing that he deserves at least a little bit of it.


Haru’s shift ends and they take to a table. Rin sits in Sousuke’s lap to devour a plate of cheese fries he ordered from the bar because exotic dancing is exhausting dancing, and stretching muscles most people go their whole lives without using works up an appetite. He also has a bourbon and Coke. With each sip, his skin is warmer under Sousuke’s hands, and a flush builds in his cheeks. He is gorgeous with his glazed eyes and loud laughs, and it is so painfully hard for Sousuke to not have his mouth on him because like Rin, he is wasted.

He is not sure what precisely made him drink one vodka after the other. He does know that he needed to forget this shit day, but now he’s had one (four) too many, and that is a problem, a borderline disaster, because his mind, it just – it fucking fuses with his dick, somehow, when he drinks too much. He cannot even keep his hands to himself, his fingers quivering like candle flames on Rin’s thighs under the table, which is just pathetic because who is he, Haru and Makoto?

Those two are whiskey-drunk and starry eyed. Haru crosses his ankles in Makoto’s lap and Makoto’s hands glide up and down his legs, gliding higher with every drink he finishes. Haru’s wearing that really disturbing smirk that only makes an appearance with a tipsy flush, and it is so clear that he is just one drop of Crown Royal away from getting in Makoto’s lap and doing some pretty freaky shit with his mouth. What is more surprising is that Makoto will not have a problem keeping up with him. Sousuke knows this because the sight has seared his retinas enough times to haunt his sleep. Makoto is his brother, for God’s sake. Sousuke does not need to see that shit.

Rin cannot sit still in Sousuke’s lap, he is so drunk. His head tips back and forth to songs, waist twisting absently to the beat, hips shifting against Sousuke, which makes things just a bit… uncomfortable. It’s awesome, but uncomfortable. He shapes Rin’s hips and that just encourages him – he is focused on the rhythm, circling it, winding along the bassline.

But then Rin arches a brow over his shoulder, hair slipping across his eyes as he teases pressure against Sousuke’s cock.

He is pure evil. Sousuke loves it.

His face strains to keep a composed expression, but Rin feels his body’s reaction to the stimulation. His eyes flicker down to Sousuke’s lap and he bites his lip around a smirk, but does not comment. Instead, he turns back around to lean his elbows on the table and scroll down his cell phone screen. Striking up a conversation with Makoto or Haru is not an option at this point – that thing Sousuke was saying about freaky shit with mouths? Yeah.

A new song comes on, an echoing pulse that spikes hot in Sousuke’s blood. Slowly, Rin curls his arms over the top of his head in a leisure, deliberate stretch. His back arches, the thick roundness of his ass pressing into Sousuke’s hips. Rin casually turns his attention back to his phone, eyes firm on the screen as he winds his ankles around Sousuke’s and locks their calves tightly together. In the cradle of Sousuke’s thighs, Rin spreads his legs, forcing Sousuke’s apart, and then he starts to move.

It’s just like fucking. Rin grinds down like he is working Sousuke inside of him, using their tangled legs as leverage to twist up and down the length of Sousuke’s dick. He is so hard that Rin finds the outline of his cockhead easily, and puts all his weight into grounding against it – the action blows Sousuke’s mind right out the back of his skull.

Sousuke’s hand flies under the table to squeeze Rin’s dick in warning and growls against the back of his neck. Rin chokes on an inhale, heat flashing off his skin, but he is grinning. He unwinds their legs and twists around to straddle Sousuke, sitting on his thighs instead of his lap, which effectively ends his torture session. However, Sousuke is hardly relieved because Rin hugs his neck and starts kissing down his throat. Sousuke tips his head back, stretching his neck in surrender to the sensation. “You,” he whispers, tucking his fingers into the back of Rin’s pants, snug warmth. “Are evil.”  

You,” Rin purrs against his neck, “love it.” He sucks the thick column of his throat like he is drawing poison from a snake bite.

Sousuke rolls his eyes but smiles into Rin’s sudden kiss.

Two seconds into the next song, Rin startles out of the kiss with a high, over-dramatic gasp. “I love this song,” he breathes, clinging to Sousuke in excitement. Sousuke is about to remind him that he loves almost every song there is, but then Rin yanks his shirt collar to level their gazes. “Come dance with me, Sousuke.”

His blood freezes, breath faltering. He is quick to compose himself, turning away with a casual swig of vodka. He swallows the liquid fire and speaks through a grimace. “You’d have more fun dancing with Nagisa.”

Rin grabs Sousuke’s face, meshing his cheeks. “I’d have more fun with you,” he whines. “I wanna dance with you, come on.”

“Rin, no.”

Rin, yes.”

Sousuke represses a sigh and pries Rin’s hands off him, kissing his wrist in apology. “Not right now.”

Rin’s head falls, shoulders drooping like he is a wilted flower that Sousuke just stepped on. “You never want to.”

“Why’s that such a bad thing?” he snaps, exasperated. Embarrassed.

Rin rears up at his tone, his eyes fire where Sousuke’s are ice. “Because you won’t even try.”

Sousuke works his jaw and that action alone has ended plenty of arguments with other people, but Rin is not intimated – he meets Sousuke’s gaze without flinching, challenging him.

Sousuke rips his eyes away, nails digging into his armrest. He fumes a sigh, his throat thick but tight. He swallows. “I don’t know how.”

“…well duh, idiot.”

Sousuke startles and Rin’s brows crease in frustrated confusion. “Did you think I didn’t already know that?”

He’s almost offended under the strange relief that washes over him. Sousuke blinks once, twice, unsure of what to say, and Rin’s smile is exasperated. “I’m not asking because I give a shit if you’re good or not.” He hugs Sousuke to press them from hips to heart, and whispers against his lips with an intimacy that leaves the air simmering. “I’m asking because you’re my man.” He breathes in Sousuke’s sigh. “And I wanna dance with my man.”

The desire is simple enough, but this new kind of closeness Rin asks for sounds almost primitive in its need. Important.

But Sousuke still hesitates, and Rin feels the wave of tension go down his body. He regards Sousuke with pursed lips, then a thought strikes him. “How do you know how to move when we…” He dips forward, lips flush with Sousuke’s ear, his murmur damp with warmth. “When you make love to me?”   

Sousuke’s mind floods with sensation and heat, memories. White teeth and red indentions. Watercolor bruises smeared across necks, thighs, and hips. Flashing static in his spine and raw, pink friction. Sousuke swallows thickly, a flush pulsing down his throat. “I go by how you move. I let up if you need to stop. I give you more when you need it.”

A fire builds under Rin’s skin. “How can you tell?”

Sousuke looks down in thought, absently rubbing his thumbs over Rin’s smooth, solid arms. “I’ve got better at reading you when you won’t say anything.” A wave of emotion rushes through him, a warm spiral through his limbs. “I feel it in the air around you. I don’t know, it’s hard to put into words. I just… go by feeling, I guess.”

Rin smiles. “Sousuke, dancing is the same thing – you go by your feelings, and how your partner feels.” His hips roll forward in a teasing circle, making Sousuke inhale sharply. “You like that?” The movement deepens into a grind. “So, I give you more.” He laughs, eyes fluttering. “Because I like how it feels too.”

Sousuke’s body responds to the stimulation without his control, hips pushing up when Rin grinds down, and the friction strikes matches in their blood. Rin’s gaze burns into him like white fire, melted roses, the color of passion, and he dives forward with a kiss that leaves Sousuke chasing after it when he pulls away.

Realization strikes Sousuke and he rears back, breathless and gripping Rin by the biceps. “You mean that – dancing, it’s like sex?”

“Oh yeah, for sure.” Rin smirks, dilated eyes falling half-lidded. “Our sex, anyway.”

Gravely, Sousuke stares down at the floor, feeling very compromised but quite tempted. He washes down his lingering inhibitions in Makoto’s stranded shot of whiskey, swallowing it down in one gulp that’s like razor blades, and his throat spasms against the burn. He breaks out in a sweat, pores flooding with heat, and the reaction is a bruising force to his ego because Makoto might be a light-weight but he drank two of those fuckers back-to-back without batting a lash.   

At least the buzz helps Sousuke briefly forget what he is so damn worried about. He nods at Rin.

Rin is fit to burst into light, he beams so hard, and Sousuke lets him intertwine their fingers to guide him onto the floor.

This is the one time being in a crowd is a good thing – it takes pressure off Sousuke, drowning in a sea of people who are swimming in liquor. The air is drenched with body heat, so thick that only the blast of the speakers cuts through the humidity. There are nauseating aromas around him: body odor, fog machines, tanning spray, flat beer, weed, impending shame. He steps through sticky alcohol and other questionable fluids as Rin guides him to some designated spot and turns around to stare up at Sousuke.

He swears his heartbeat is louder than the music. Sousuke just stands there, stiff, muscles pulled far too taut for such a casual situation. Rin tips his head toward the speakers as a new song lulls to life, the heavy rasp of guitars like teeth dragging down the valley of Sousuke’s spine. It’s a slow R&B song, one that the single people use as a segway for a drink break, which is great because it gives Sousuke more breathing room.

Nervousness swarms when Rin steps forward. Sousuke goes rigid almost as if he’s waiting for a blow, but Rin rubs the tension out of his shoulders, calming his racing thoughts. Carefully, Rin leans up on his toes to smear kisses down the line of his jaw, making it relax.

Sousuke’s hands move to Rin’s hips because that’s where they usually fall when they embrace, but Rin smiles at the action. “See? You already know what to do.”

Sousuke was not really thinking about it, but he still beams in his own quiet way. He normally shames himself for not calculating a situation down to the pain-staking details because strategizing is one of his survival mechanisms, but he slowly realizes that dancing with Rin might not need a tactical method.

Most circumstances with Rin cannot be controlled, but that is what Sousuke loves about him. He should not be so timid about something he came to peace with long ago.

Rin nudges Sousuke’s stomach with his own, his belly ring a dull scrape through their clothes. “Shuffle a little.”

Sousuke does as he is told – tries to, anyway. At first, it’s timid shifts back and forth, awkward with no rhythm at all, and Sousuke steps on Rin’s foot twice, but the boy’s smile is patient and sweet. He tugs Sousuke’s neck a bit firmer to lure his body this way and that, and the gentle instruction has them swaying as one, pressed together and leaning heavily against one another – an embrace in motion, Sousuke realizes.

Rin uses Sousuke's hand to guide himself into a floating spin, hair flaring out, strands caught on the edges of his grin. He tumbles into Sousuke’s arms, proving that even he is prone to alcohol-induced mistakes, but their foreheads rest together as they laugh, eyes closed. They resume their swaying and soon, Sousuke is more drunk off the contact than the alcohol in his veins, and he craves more, however he can get it.

The next song makes everything shift. The throbbing bassline has the temperature shooting up a dozen degrees. A growl rolls through the floor, trembling up Sousuke’s thighs, shuddering through his body. Rin also feels the change in the air – everyone does. The floor is suddenly a moving carpet of people and the club is red light and dark shadow, warmth and need.

Rin pulls Sousuke flush, their bodies a slick, hot pulse against each other. “Ready for more?”

Sousuke nods, yes, whatever, please – he is more than willing to make a complete spectacle of himself if it means more of what they just had, what he just felt.

Rin smirks at his strained expression and puts a hand on Sousuke’s hip. Rin sways to himself, closing his eyes to focus on learning the beat of the song. He masters it in seconds and levels their gazes as he circles Sousuke. Rin’s nails tease under his shirt and the waistband of his pants, leaving a trail of hot chills in his wake. “Bend your knees some,” Rin says, his voice a touch deeper, and Sousuke represses a shudder and does as he’s told.

Rin’s eyes are preditorial and Sousuke is a completely willing victim as Rin steps into him, squeezing a muscled thigh between Sousuke’s legs and knocking the breath out of him. Rin winds an arm around Sousuke’s neck and swoops low, waist rolling in a teasing circle. Rin drags himself up the length of Sousuke’s thigh, which is considerably thicker than his own, but Rin straddles it like he owns it and uses that thigh as leverage to roll their hips together with force.

The pleasure is shocking, snapping Sousuke’s spine straight, throwing his hips into Rin’s. Rin pushes and Sousuke pushes back – maybe there is rhythm to it, but all that truly matters is chasing the sensation, sending it back and forth like an electrical wave spiraling back and forth across a spectrum of fire and ice. A charge builds in Sousuke, humming up his spine, and Rin quivers like he can feel it, Sousuke knows he can feel it because it is a force they created together by moving like this.  

Rin winds lower and lower until he is rocking on his ankles and looking up from between Sousuke’s legs. He takes Sousuke’s hands and places them flat on his chest before rising slowly, their eyes locked. He drags Sousuke’s hands all over himself as he stands, so starved for his touch.

Rin turns to press his back against Sousuke’s chest and in response, he pulls Rin into the solidness of his body and holds him from behind, their fingers locking together. Their eyes close, the contact intimate and wonderful. Sousuke tucks his face against Rin’s, making him sigh and sway. Sousuke’s eyes fly open when Rin’s barbell drags a slick trail of fire up his neck, and then their knees are bending into a grind.

Sousuke pushes into the motion and Rin whimpers, voice trembling away. Pride burns through Sousuke – he is having an affect on Rin. He’s doing this right, somehow.

He’s doing it really right, apparently, because Rin reaches back and digs his fingers into the hardness of Sousuke’s thigh to pull him harder against him. They roll as one and no words can describe the motion threading them together or the way the very air bends around them.

Sousuke cannot even keep his eyes open under the weight of desire but if he could, he would be meeting glares of murderous envy, frowning glances of jealousy, and aching, burning stares of lust.

Sousuke opens his mouth against Rin’s shoulder, feels his pulse racing in his skin. He breathes against the damp sweep of saliva and chills rise under the heat of Rin’s skin. Sousuke gets so swept up in him that soon, he is guiding the twist of Rin’s hips, pushing them into a rhythm that no song could ever follow. Lust overflows their veins, pressure tightening inside them, and it’s too much to take.

Rin stumbles around and Sousuke’s lips are already parted to taste his kiss, hand ready to catch the knee hiking up his waist. “You gotta fuck me,” Rin whines into his mouth, the need trembling off him in waves. “Sousuke –”

He cranes back, struggling not to combust with want. “What, here?” He is too gone off that kiss to think clearly.

Anywhere,” Rin hisses, ready to chase his pleasure like a lion to prey.

Logic breaks through the haze and Sousuke’s eyes widen. “I just have condoms,” he says. “Rin, I don’t have any…”

Horror dawns on Rin’s face.

Then his expression hardens with determination and he grabs Sousuke’s hand to march back to their table with purpose.

Turns out “freaky shit with mouths” can get even freakier, and Sousuke prays he is too drunk to remember it in the morning. Rin throws a cocktail umbrella at Haru and he rears around, looking possessive and murderous. He is straddling Makoto and his eyes are burned black with lust, lips swollen from kisses. His hair and clothes are a disheveled mess. Makoto busies himself at Haru’s throat, plastered and completely oblivious to Sousuke and Rin’s presence – his entire world is narrowed down to Haru and the bruise he is sucking against his throat.

Haru’s voice is all growl. “The hell do you want?”

Rin gets in his face, their eyes narrowed in equal measure. He sticks his hand out expectantly, palm up. “I know you have some.”

Sousuke has no idea what they’re talking about, but realization comes to life on Haru’s face. He blinks. Then he glares. “No.”

“Yes.”

“I need it.”

“So do I! Damn it Haru, we’ll be quick – I promise.”

Haru snorts, brow arched and unimpressed. “I already know that.”

Rin is offended. “Just because me and Sousuke don’t go through two packs of condoms a week –”

Oh my God,” Sousuke nearly shouts. “Don’t.”

Haru rolls his eyes and pulls something out of his back pocket, drops it in Rin’s eager hand. It looks like… a bottle of hand sanitizer? “Ten minutes,” Haru says, wrapping his arms around Makoto’s neck once more. “That’s it. If you take any longer than that, I’m coming after you.” He turns his face back into Makoto’s kiss and Sousuke quickly looks away in an attempt to save what is left of his soul.

Rin’s eyes light with triumph. He hurries Sousuke through the crowd, weaving around people with building urgency. They race down a separate wing and Sousuke pecks kisses down the back of Rin’s neck, making his giggles fall into moans.  

The dancers’ washroom is empty. Recessed lighting coats the line of showers in warm amber and it rolls down the black tiles like honey. The air is damp with heat as steam billows through the air. Moans bounce off the walls while condensation drips down the mirrors. Soon the room is a saturated world of hot, swirling white as the first shower head pours water over Sousuke and Rin in steaming rivulets.

It slices through Sousuke’s hair, rolls down his back like liquid fire. The water sharpens the taste of Rin’s kiss, his fingers squeezing through Sousuke’s drenched shirt. Rin rolls the fabric up his stomach and Sousuke raises his arms for him to carefully peel it off his shoulders, minding his right one with a tenderness that makes Sousuke’s heart swell until it is almost too big for his chest.

Rin pulls Sousuke’s shirt off and his dog tags drop between his pectorals. Rin tangles his fingers through the chain to pull Sousuke into an aggressive kiss and trails his lips down the rope of scar joining Sousuke’s shoulder to his arm, soft and loving.

Sousuke smiles with half-lidded eyes and pushes Rin’s soaked shirt up, bends to kiss between the line of his abs and make them flinch. He gives a playful suck to his belly ring and Rin’s spine snaps straight, his laugh breathless, and Sousuke grins. He pulls Rin’s shirt off and the sight before him is a thing of fantasies. Rin’s hair is dripping, the shower draining the color to that of a dark rose. His tattoos are glossy under the stream of water, his muscles rippling. “Fuck,” Sousuke breathes. “You’re perfect.”

It’s not the most elaborate proclamation of Rin’s beauty, Sousuke knows that, but his raw sincerity seems to make the depth of his words shine through. Everything about Rin’s body is perfect, from his scars to his teeth, and Sousuke smooths Rin’s hair back to frame his face. “Gorgeous,” he whispers.

Water spikes their lashes as their eyes trace each other like a physical caress, drinking up the details before their mouths crash together. Sousuke’s fingers dig into the thickness of Rin’s ass and hooks his thumbs under the waistband of his tights to peel them down. He exposes the scored line of Rin’s hip and the swell of his ass spills over. His cock springs free, sitting up against his abs with a wet smack, and it looks so good that Sousuke can’t stop himself from bending down and sucking sensation to the tip of Rin’s cock.

Rin’s sob is one of startled pleasure, carnal and desperate. The sound has Sousuke’s mouth watering until his tongue is swimming, and he can barely get out of his trance long enough to notice Rin put the bottle of hand sanitizer in his face.

Sousuke stands upright with his brows creased in concern. “Um. I don’t think that’ll –”

Rin levels their gazes. “Sousuke, baby. That’s not hand sanitizer.”

Sousuke blinks at the bottle once, twice.

“…oh.”

Rin’s brows go high and crease, his smile endearing of Sousuke’s complete and utter stupidity.

Sousuke helps Rin out of his tights the rest of the way and uncaps the bottle. What he squeezes into his palm is definitely not hand sanitizer – it’s generic lubricant, tacky and thick, nothing like the shit in Rin’s personal collection. Sousuke never knew that lube could feel like liquid silk or heat up when you blow on it, or taste like butterscotch, or make him see fucking stars when it’s coating Rin’s walls and Sousuke slides inside. Just add it to the list of things he never knew about before Rin came into his life.

Sousuke kisses him, their lips warm and wet as they close together. Rin hums when the tips of two slick fingers touch his entrance, not trying to nudge their way in but just rub sensation against his rim. Rin grinds back on Sousuke’s hand urgently, nodding in reassurance. Sousuke nuzzles against his neck, sucks against it hard when he pushes his middle finger inside all the way up to the second knuckle, and the pressure is so immense, so tight, that Sousuke has to grind his cock into the hardness of Rin’s abs, desperate for friction.

Rin’s mouth is flush with his ear, breath sharpening to a rasp. “More, Sousuke, you know I can take more.”

Sousuke takes a deep breath, leveling himself, though his cock is straining painfully against his drenched slacks at this point. Rin takes his second and third fingers easily – he quivers with desire from the inside out, pulsating around Sousuke’s fingers, and it is scary what Sousuke would do if it meant he could stay buried in the heat of him forever.

Rin’s fingers tremble around Sousuke’s belt buckle, manic with need. Sousuke’s fingers slip free of him and Rin whines at the loss, ripping Sousuke’s zipper open to yank his slacks out from under him. Sousuke sighs when his cock frees, heavy and dripping with want. He is about to step out of the shower to retrieve a condom from his wallet, which he left by the sink with his shoes, but then Rin drops to his knees and Sousuke’s cock is swallowed by hot, wet pressure.

Sousuke’s hand flies over the base of his cock, bearing down so he won’t come right then and there, but he looks down and almost doesn’t make it. Rin’s lips stretch around his dick, rivulets of water shaping to his muscles, dripping down his pierced nipples and cock. His knees are bruised from the last time he took Sousuke into his mouth. With one slow drag of teeth up his shaft, Rin draws the stability out of Sousuke’s spine and takes his very soul with it. Sousuke would give him whatever he wanted if he asked for it in this moment, would do anything at the snap of his fingers.  

Rin pulls Sousuke’s foreskin down the shaft to expose his cockhead and delves in, barbell lolling under the ridge, lips sucking a throbbing vein. Sousuke curls in on himself, hand tightening into a desperate fist against the wall. Rin’s tongue flattens against the underside of Sousuke’s cockhead as his foreskin rolls back up, and Sousuke feels impending doom but is too weak of a man to stop it. His foreskin closes over the head and Rin’s barbell is caught in between, flicking, rolling, fucking against the slit. Sousuke cries out, voice torn from the deepest part of himself. Rin hums in apology and gives a gentle suck to the head, lips pouting against the tip, eyes glittering.

Sousuke breaks, hauling Rin up by the armpits and onto his feet. Rin’s cheeks flush at the show of strength and in a single flying leap, he’s wrapped around Sousuke’s body, legs snug around his waist, mouth aggressive on his. Sousuke’s arms lock around him and he has a sensory overload with Rin’s body wrapped around him.

His cock nudges against Rin’s rim and his softness against Sousuke’s hardness is a drug, and he realizes that if he tries to handle a condom in this moment, he might actually die. Rin realizes this at about the same time and shakes his head, arms locking around Sousuke’s neck to keep him in place. “Do it,” he whispers. “I wanna feel you.”

Sousuke almost flies apart with joy but refrains. “Okay,” he whispers back. His fist slicks lube over his cock and he grits his teeth at the sensation. The warm stream of water relaxes Rin further, enough for Sousuke’s cockhead to slip inside, just a little. Rin gasps and manic need is suddenly distant. Sousuke levels himself because no matter how worked up they are, this part always has to be gentle, understanding, a choice.

Rin always look small and vulnerable in the moments before they join, but he also looks like he trusts Sousuke with that. Sousuke kisses him, brushing his lips and lingering longer with each touch. It is softer than what he thought he was capable of, but he learned it for Rin because that is what he needs, and it did not take long for Sousuke to realize that he needed it too, sometimes – needed to be able to let someone cling to him like this and make him feel needed and worthy.

Sousuke nuzzles Rin’s face and whispers against his forehead. “I love you.”

Rin sighs and his body goes supple. “I love you, too.” His eyes are slipping closed but Sousuke noses his cheek until he opens them so that he will stay grounded – they have found out that it is too easy for Rin’s mind to drift in the darkness behind his eyes. Trauma is a constant, lurking shadow for Rin, but he and Sousuke have learned how to combat it with little gestures like eye contact – it goes a long way during moments like this.

Sousuke’s fist works heavy pressure over Rin’s cock, coaxing him to relax further. Rin opens up for him, pressure widening around Sousuke’s cock, taking him deeper. “You feel so fucking good, Rin, you’re so soft –” Sweet nothings pour out of his mouth in an overflow, voice hoarse with emotion. Sousuke has never had to be so vocal with someone during sex before, but it steadies Rin, keeps him focused in the moment.

Sousuke is so swept up that he does not realize there are fingers tangled with his around Rin’s cock, moving with him in a delirious slide. Sousuke pauses with every inch deeper inside him, waiting for Rin’s nod to continue. Then Sousuke hilts him in one long, slick slide, and they both groan in thick satisfaction.

It was worth the wait. Everything they had to endure to be together was worth being connected like this. Sousuke would do it all over again if he had to – would do it a thousand lifetimes over, if only it led to this.   

Rin’s laugh is breathless, his whisper dazed. “I can feel your heartbeat. Inside.” He squeezes tighter around Sousuke’s cock to enhance the sensation, making it throb even harder, and that almost knocks Sousuke’s feet out from under him. He can feel Rin’s pulse too, quivering around his cock, and he never noticed those little, infinite details until he started making love instead of just fucking.

Rin’s body pulls suction over Sousuke’s cock as he draws out, hips flexing. He squeezes back inside and buries his moan against Rin’s lips. He is locked around Sousuke’s cock, the tightest pressure spiraling up and down his shaft as Rin grinds down. Sousuke fucks into the sensation and Rin cries out, throwing his head back with a wild grin. “More,” he whispers. Sousuke drives into him. “More.” Sousuke puts everything he is into reaching as deeply as possible, and Rin thrashes in his hold. “There, Sousuke, right there, don’t stop –”

“Rin,” Sousuke whispers like a prayer, eyes closing to revel in the tight, wet heat. Their bodies slide together, slick and raw. They move like they did on the floor and distantly, Sousuke realizes that it has always been a dance with Rin, adapting to his movements, tripping up and crashing down, building it all back up into an unbreakable love that could only be created when an uncontrollable force like Rin and an immovable wall like Sousuke collided.

Rin chokes on a gasp and goes rigid in Sousuke’s arms. He flexes around Sousuke’s cock with so much strength that his dick aches and hot numbness rakes down his thighs. Rin comes, liquid warmth spilling between Sousuke’s fingers, and he fucks Rin through it. He screams Sousuke’s name like it is the only word he knows, his broken cry echoing off the tiles, and Sousuke swears that he will feel that echo in his bones for weeks after this.

Rin’s pulsating clench has Sousuke choking on air. Steam billows off their skin as heat sings between them. Rin’s trembling fingers cup Sousuke’s face and he croaks after his voice, “You take such good care of me, Sousuke, you’re so good to me, everything to me –”

Rin’s impassioned kiss does Sousuke in, his face crumbling as coiled pressure springs free. The noise that comes out of him is all animal as he chases the deep, primitive need to take his pleasure. Rin’s growl is possessive as Sousuke pours inside him, and Rin comes again, dry, just from the sensation.

They ache with satisfaction when it is over. Sousuke pushes his last bit of strength into his legs to sink down on the shower ledge with Rin still wrapped around him in every way possible. They hug each other close, the shower spray cooling their overheated muscles. Gently, Sousuke slips from him, and he hushes Rin’s whimper with soft kisses all over his face. “You all right?”

Rin nods, trembling and shaky, but smiling. His brows crease in concern as he touches Sousuke’s right shoulder, which is red and pulsing from holding Rin up for so long, but the pain is muted under the rush of endorphins. Rin soothes the dull ache with gentle swipes of soap, kneading along the juncture of Sousuke’s neck and shoulder. He goes boneless under the attention, and his curse is long and loud when Rin works shampoo into his scalp, which makes Rin laugh.

He works a week’s worth of tension out with mere brushes of his fingers. He rubs over stab wounds and bullet scars, lets the water wash the soap away and kisses them. Sousuke washes Rin next, the soap lather melting into the heat of his skin. He trails a washrag down the sinful length of his legs and massages the rag into his back muscles. Sousuke thumbs his tattoos to feel the scars hidden underneath the ink and adoration surges through him. They are both naked in more ways than one, exposed, but there is nothing to hide – their demons have played together for a long time, and that acceptance shines through their next kiss.

Sousuke’s stomach growls and hunger curls deep inside him, making Rin giggle out of the kiss. “Your ass skipped lunch today, didn’t you?” Rin smirks and leans in again, purring against his mouth, “I got something you can eat –”

Sousuke startles a laugh and slaps his ass, squeezes into the firmness with a grin. “Bastard. I could be starving to death and you’d still say some shit like that.”

Rin blinks, deep in thought and completely oblivious to what Sousuke just said. He reaches a mental conclusion and perks up with a gasp. “We should go to brunch. Like, right now.”

Sousuke raises his brows. “You can’t have brunch in the middle of the night.”

Watch me.”

Sousuke chuckles, exasperated and fond. They step out of the shower and throw their dripping clothes over the sink. Sousuke’s boxers are only a little damp, which is manageable, so he pulls them back on. Rin, on the other hand, does not wear underwear, but his latex tights are practically waterproof, so he puts those back on. Sousuke crosses his arms at their clothes. “They’re soaked. It’ll take a while for them to dry.”

Rin heaves a dramatic sigh, flinging himself at Sousuke with a pout – he’s a needy drunk. “What’re we supposed to do until then?”

The music is a distant thrum lulling through the tiles. The song is slow, an easy rhythm to follow – it is almost as easy as taking Rin into his arms. “I can think of one thing, at least.”

Rin shares his smile and hugs his arms around his neck, their foreheads resting together as they sway.