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Wherefore art thou..?

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It takes three tries for Hokuto to light his cigarette. His coordination isn’t great at the best of times so he has no chance drunk. It doesn’t help that his hands won’t stop shaking.

He drops his cigarette altogether when the balcony door opens behind him and he curses as he watches it fall five storeys to the pavement below. And then he freezes as he notices who it is beside him. He wishes he had a cigarette but he left the pack inside and it’s no use asking Taiga because Taiga doesn’t even smoke. He doesn’t have any reason to even be out here – save one.

“I didn’t know you’d be here.” Hokuto says to break the silence, he holds onto the railing so that the shaking isn’t noticeable. It’s Yuma’s customary Christmas-come-birthday party, Hokuto and Yasui come most years because they got close to Yuma on the set of Piece and and it’s a good excuse to see him as they so rarely do. Shintaro comes too of course, because Yuma has always been like a big brother to him, but Hokuto didn’t know Taiga was particularly close to him.

“I came with Takada-kun” Taiga explains. “We’ve been hanging out a lot...because of the play and all...”

“Makes sense.” Hokuto says, because it does, and the silence is awkward and he feels like he needs to say something. He could go back inside, he dropped his cigarette so there’s really no need for him to be out here any more but Taiga is between him and the door so he just slides his hands back and forth along the railing and tries to think of something else to say.

Taiga should really be the one to speak though, Hokuto thinks, he’s the one that came out here – but Taiga is just as bad at conversation as he is. They’re quite a pair really.

They’re not a pair, a couple, whatever. Not like that, not all the time. Hokuto doesn’t know how he’d describe what they have, that’s probably why he never has, not even to Juri, president of the KyomoHoku fan-club. They never fought, and they never hated each other but there’s no love between them either, not any more.

Hokuto doesn’t know how things changed, why some things didn’t, things just happen he supposes.

Taiga isn’t going to say anything and it makes the strange tension feel thicker, it agitates him. He wishes Taiga would just get on with it and he’s moments from saying as much when Taiga finally moves.

His fingers burn Hokuto’s seething skin even through his shirt, fluttering uncertainly for a moment on Hokuto’s waist but when Hokuto lets out a harsh breath they grow bolder, gripping tighter as they move to his hips.

He steps closer, his head falling to rest against the back of Hokuto’s and then Taiga does speak. “You look really good.” he mumbles – like it’s an explanation, like they need an excuse. Like anything is different just because they’re so far from home.

Hokuto doesn’t say it back, he doesn’t need to, because that’s one of the things he thinks will never change. Even if there’s nothing else left between them there will always be that undeniable attraction, implicit, inescapable.

Hokuto answers by pressing back, moulding his body against Taiga’s in invitation and Taiga hums approvingly as he drops his head to Hokuto’s shoulder, worrying the skin there with his teeth as his hands move to unfasten Hokuto’s jeans.

With them shoved down just enough, Hokuto leans forward over the railing to give Taiga access.

A cold, slick finger presses it’s way down the cleft of his ass, and for a moment Hokuto wonders where Taiga got the lube, but then he stops wondering as the digit slides inside with a long slow burn. It burns even more when a second finger joins it and Taiga’s other hand draws soothing circles on his bared hip as Hokuto hisses quietly at the intrusion.

It used to be his favourite part. Taiga would sometimes spend hours doing just this, for no purpose other than for Hokuto’s pleasure, just to drive him to the edge of oblivion with careful, slow strokes that made Hokuto feel like he was inside out.

Now its just a means to an end. Hokuto isn’t even fully hard by the time the preparation is done. It’s Taiga’s desperate whine as he slides inside that gets him there.

He groans quietly as Taiga bottoms out and then urges Hokuto to stand up straight. He groans again when Taiga moves his hips just right, their heights and Taiga’s length and the angle all complimenting each other perfectly – they always were perfect together.

Taiga gets the message, he shifts his hips more than thrusts, just like that every time, one hand on the railing to keep his balance and the other around Hokuto’s chest, keeping him in place. Holding him close, just far enough away.

Taiga’s hand is still on his chest, his fingers splayed right above where Hokuto’s heart is thumping, a heat in his chest that hurts in too many ways to count. It travels south, the fire burning through him, devastating him. Bright white fire behind his eyelids, and then it’s over.

He pulls away.

There’s a strange, cold detachment in Taiga’s voice as he says “Thank you” and then Hokuto is left alone once more. Only now he really, really wishes he had a cigarette.