Chapter 10: The First True Touch
The morning light was different.It didn’t slice; it pooled. It gathered in the hollow of Yamato’s throat and gilded the fine hairs on his forearm, which was thrown across Taichi’s chest. Taichi woke to the weight of it, to the smell of sleep and lavender soap and Yamato’s skin. His hand was still enclosed in Yamato’s, their fingers laced loosely, a pact made in the dark.He didn’t move. He watched Yamato sleep, the rhythmic flutter of his eyelids, the slight part of his lips. The terrified, perfect hope from last night was a quiet hum in his veins now. He felt clean in a way that had nothing to do with the shower.Yamato stirred. His blue eyes opened, unfocused for a second, then finding Taichi’s. A slow, unguarded smile spread across his face.No words. He leaned in and pressed his lips to Taichi’s.It was a soft, sleep-warm greeting.A confirmation.
Taichi sighed into it, his free hand coming up to cradle the back of Yamato’s neck. The kiss deepened naturally, a slow, tasting exploration. Yamato’s tongue traced the seam of his lips, and Taichi opened for him, a shudder running through him at the gentle dominance of it. Yamato shifted, his body rolling half on top of Taichi, pinning him to the mattress with a pleasant, solid weight.The friction was immediate and electric. Taichi could feel Yamato’s hardness, thick and insistent, pressing against his thigh through the thin fabric of their sleep pants. A shock of pure, undiluted want went through him—sharp, human, his.
Yamato broke the kiss, breathing unevenly. He searched Taichi’s face, his eyes dark with a mix of tenderness and a hunger Taichi recognized, but that now held a different quality. It was focused.It was for him.
“Is this okay?” Yamato whispered, the words vibrating against Taichi’s mouth.Taichi’s throat was tight. He nodded, his voice a rough scrape.“More than okay.” He swallowed.“Take me, Yamato. I want… I need to know what it feels like.Without it. Help me remember this is mine.”
A conflict flashed in Yamato’s eyes—the protector warring with the lover. The lover won. He dipped his head, capturing Taichi’s mouth in a harder, claiming kiss as his hips rolled down, grinding his erection against Taichi’s. The muffled groan that came from Taichi was all encouragement Yamato needed.
He reached across to the nightstand, fumbling one-handed for the small bottle he kept there. The click of the cap was loud in the quiet room. Taichi watched, his breath coming in short pants, as Yamato coated his fingers with clear gel.The clinical smell of the lube mixed with the intimate scent of their bed.
“Tell me if anything hurts,” Yamato murmured, his voice low.“Tell me to stop. I mean it, Tai.”
“I will.” Taichi’s promise was breathless. He hooked his thumbs into the waistband of his pants and pushed them down along with his briefs, kicking them off.The cool air of the room hit his flushed skin. He was already hard, his cock curving up against his stomach.
Yamato’s gaze traveled down his body, a raw appreciation in his look that made Taichi’s skin prickle. Then Yamato’s slick fingers found him, not on his cock, but behind, tracing the tight furl of muscle there. Taichi jerked, a bolt of intense sensation shooting up his spine.
“Shhh,” Yamato soothed, leaning down to kiss his collarbone.“Just relax.”
The first finger pressed inside, slow and unwavering. There was a burn, a stretch, but it was clean. Uncomplicated by a ravenous void inside him. Taichi concentrated on the feeling—the intimate invasion, the careful curl of Yamato’s finger searching, the rasp of Yamato’s breath against his shoulder.
“Another,” Taichi gritted out, spreading his legs wider. “Please.”
A second finger joined the first, scissoring gently, stretching him open. Yamato watched his face intently, his own expression drawn with concentration and desire. When he brushed over a particular spot inside, Taichi’s back arched off the bed, a punched-out gasp escaping him.“There?” Yamato asked, his voice thick.
“Yeah.Fuck, yeah. Again.”
Yamato did, curling his fingers relentlessly against that bundle of nerves until Taichi was writhing, his fists clenched in the sheets. It was overwhelming, but in a way that filled him up with feeling, not with desperate, aching lack.
“Now,” Taichi begged, his eyes flying open.“Yamato, now. I’m ready.”
Yamato withdrew his fingers, wiping them hastily on the sheet. He pushed his own pants down, freeing his erection.He was fully hard, the head flushed and leaking. Taichi reached for him, wrapping his hand around the length, giving a slow, firm stroke. Yamato’s eyelids fluttered, a ragged curse falling from his lips.
“Condom?” Yamato managed to ask.Taichi shook his head.“No.I want to feel you.All of you. Please.”
The last word broke something in Yamato. He poured more lube into his palm, slicking himself with rough, hurried strokes. He positioned himself, the blunt head of his cock pressing against Taichi’s entrance. He leaned down, bracing his weight on his forearms, his forehead touching Taichi’s.Their noses brushed.“Look at me,” Yamato whispered.
Taichi did. He stared into the stormy blue of Yamato’s eyes as Yamato began to push inside.It was a slow, inexorable invasion. A stretching burn that morphed into a deep, filling pressure. Taichi gasped, his walls fluttering, clenching tightly around the invading thickness. Yamato went inch by agonizing inch, pausing when Taichi’s breath hitched, waiting until his body relaxed to push deeper.
“You’re so fucking tight,” Yamato groaned, his entire body trembling with the effort of control. “Christ, Tai…”
When he was fully seated, balls-deep, they both went still.The feeling was immense. Taichi was full in a way he’d never been before—not just physically, but emotionally. Yamato was inside him. Yamato, who knew his worst, who’d seen the monster, who held his hand in the dark. Tears welled in Taichi’s eyes, blurring the intense focus on Yamato’s face above him.
“Okay?” Yamato asked, his voice strained.Taichi nodded, unable to speak. He wrapped his legs around Yamato’s waist, locking his ankles.An invitation.Yamato began to move.
He started with a slow, deep drag, pulling almost all the way out before sliding back in with devastating precision. Each thrust punched a soft sound from Taichi’s lips—a gasp, a moan, a fragmented version of Yamato’s name. The rhythm built gradually, the sound of skin slapping against skin joining their ragged breathing.
“Harder,” Taichi urged, digging his heels into Yamato’s back. “Don’t hold back.”
With a guttural sound, Yamato obeyed.His thrusts became faster, harder, driving the air from Taichi’s lungs. The bedframe knocked a dull rhythm against the wall. Yamato’s control shattered, replaced by a raw, pounding need. He fucked into Taichi with a desperate intensity, each deep stroke hitting that spot inside that made Taichi see white behind his eyelids.
“Right there, fuck, right there!” Taichi chanted, his head thrashing on the pillow. The pleasure was a coil tightening low in his gut, hot and urgent. He reached between them, fisting his own cock, his movements jerky and out of sync with Yamato’s pounding rhythm.
Yamato’s mouth found his, the kiss messy and brutal, all teeth and clashing tongues. “Come for me,” Yamato growled against his lips, his hips pistoning. “Come on my cock, Tai. Show me it’s yours.”
The words, filthy and tender, tipped him over the edge.Taichi’s orgasm ripped through him with a violence that was purely human. He cried out, a raw, broken sound as his cock pulsed, streaks of come splashing up over his stomach and chest.His internal muscles clamped down on Yamato in rhythmic spasms, milking him.
The sensation was too much for Yamato. With a choked-off roar, he buried his face in Taichi’s neck and drove in one last, searingly deep time. Taichi felt the hot, sudden flood as Yamato came, pulsing inside him, filling him up. Yamato shuddered through it, his body convulsing, his blunt nails digging into Taichi’s shoulders.
They collapsed together, a slick, sweating, gasming heap. Yamato’s weight was crushing, perfect.Taichi welcomed it. He could feel Yamato’s heartbeat, a wild drum against his own chest.
For long minutes, the only sounds were their slowing breaths and the distant hum of the city.Yamato softened inside him but didn’t pull out. He nuzzled into Taichi’s neck, placing a soft, open-mouthed kiss there.
“Holy shit,” Yamato breathed, his voice wrecked.
A weak, incredulous laugh bubbled out of Taichi.“Yeah.”
They lay entangled as the sun climbed, painting their joined bodies in gold. The metallic scent of wrongness was gone, replaced by the honest, musky smell of sex and sweat. Taichi traced idle patterns on Yamato’s damp back, feeling the reality of him, the solid truth of this.It was his.All his.
Finally, Yamato shifted, pulling out with a wince and a soft, wet sound. He fetched a towel from the bathroom, cleaning them both with a gentle, drowsy practicality.He didn’t go back to his side of the bed. He slung an arm over Taichi’s waist and pulled him close, tucking Taichi’s head under his chin.
Taichi drifted, boneless and sated, on the edge of sleep.The parasite’s echo was silent.There was only this warm, heavy peace.
Then, a sudden, sharp cramp twisted low in his gut.
It was a visceral, physical clench, like a muscle seizing.It stole his breath.It felt nothing like desire. It felt like a warning.His eyes flew open, staring at the sunlight on the wall. Yamato felt the tension, stirring against him.“Tai? You okay?”
The cramp passed as quickly as it came, leaving a dull, ominous ache in its wake. A cold trickle of dread traced Taichi’s spine.He had felt empty.He had felt clean.
But as he lay in Yamato’s arms, the faint, familiar metallic tang ghosted back into the air, faint as a dying breath, whispering that nothing was ever truly over.