The first thing Makoto is greeted with, as he peels off his boots at the front entrance of their shared city apartment, is the blaring guitar riff from one of his new singles, coming from the impressive surround sound system they were finally able to afford just last month. Haruka's shoes are kicked to a corner – a pair of rugged old canvas shoes with a scrap of red paint near the sole, from their college days. He throws his keys and shades onto the shoe drawer, and hoists his guitar up with him and into the living area, where Haruka is working.

"I'm home," he says, catching Haruka in front of a freshly-painted square canvas.

Haruka looks up from his palette, a messy splash of black and red. "Welcome back," he replies, and goes back to work. There is a heavy scent of Armani Eau Pour Homme in the room – a gift from Makoto for their recent four-year anniversary.

Makoto props the guitar against the couch. "That's a lot of black you're using," he observes, taking a good look at the painting. "You rarely do that."

"It's the cover art for your new single," Haruka explains, as the song continues playing on the stereo.

Makoto visibly brightens up. He leans over to study the mix of oils in the bright afternoon light. "Heh, now I get it. You wouldn't be listening to one of my albums so openly otherwise, right?" He kisses Haruka on the temple to show that he really doesn't mind.

Haruka frowns a bit. "That's not true." The next stroke he paints is blue and haphazard.

Makoto turns away to fall back onto the king-sized mattress in the middle of the apartment. The other rooms in the house have been converted to studios and game rooms, so the best option was for them to sleep in the main area, which neither of them really complained about. The ceiling-high windows let in more than enough light in the day, thus making it Haruka's unofficial work station, and at night, they can see the gaudy lights go all the way as far as the edge of city. And of course, blatant as it sounds, Makoto enjoys fucking Haruka in a brightly-lit room such as this.

"Oh," Makoto looks up from his sprawled position on the bed. "I've been meaning to ask, Haru, but – what's with the, um, getup?"

Haruka looks down at his usual blue apron, stained with patches of paint, both old and new. "What about it?"

Makoto quirks a grin. "You know what I mean, Haru-chan."

Haruka lifts the apron up a bit, to give Makoto a better view. He's wearing a loose black tee, with a faded print of a white triangular emblem on the front. It's a shirt from Makoto's band, from the very first launch of their debut album. It also belongs to the taller man, as is plain to see, with the sleeves hanging limply over Haruka's slimmer shoulders and the hem going well past his buttocks. It doesn't take a genius to tell that he isn't wearing anything else underneath it.

"I didn't want to get paint over one of your shirts," Haru clarifies.

"I was talking about the stockings."

Indeed, Haruka sports woolen navy blue socks that go over his knees. "These?" Haruka gently tugs at one of them, pulling back and snapping the tight fringe over his thigh. It is definitely a subtle invitation, which Makoto can easily pick on. "It's supposed to make sex feel better, for whatever reason," Haruka says plainly. "I read that in a woman's magazine today."

Makoto winces outwardly, without meaning to. "Sex doesn't feel good for you now?" he asks, concerned.

Haruka catches the worried tone. "I didn't mean it like that," he says quickly. "Just thought to give it a try. See if I can get off without touching myself, you know."

"You've done that before, haven't you?"

"Yeah, but not as often as I'd have liked."

The track stops, and goes on repeat, this time the acoustic version. Makoto pulls a cigarette to his lips and lights it, watching the smoke rise up to the ceiling, and trying not to entertain the thought of fucking Haru on this bed, in his shirt and in those schoolgirl socks. Undoubtedly, he's looking forward to testing that strange theory very much.

"Stupid, isn't it?" Haruka continues, not facing him.

"No. No, it isn't."

Fucking sexy, is what it is.

He doesn't have to say it. Haruka's lips curl into a little smile, as he changes the used frame of his paint roller. The sound of Makoto's ragged singing voice fills the void between them, bouncing off the white walls of their uptown establishment.

Makoto gets out the ashtray from the drawer, flipping aside a bottle of lube to get to it. On second thought, he takes the lube out too, setting it somewhere near the edge of the mattress. There's an AX shopping bag in the wedge between the drawer and the bed. Without peeking into it himself, he asks casually, "Went shopping recently?" The fact that Haruka rarely ever goes to branded stores is something that nags at the back of his mind. He can only imagine it being a gift, but from who, if not himself?

"Oh, that." Haruka turns back momentarily to recall what the bag looks like. "Yeah, I was gonna tell you. I just got a part-time job. That was a gift from the client."

"Doing what?" Makoto does go to peer into the bag at that. "I thought we were doing pretty well. You don't have to go through the trouble of – wait, what – these are all swimwear? Haru?"

"Got scouted at an exhibition last month to do some part-time modelling," Haruka says calmly. "I took it as a hobby. Of sorts."

"I'm getting worried about the kind of people that come to your exhibits." Makoto holds up a pair of black and blue speedos, uncomfortable with the fact that a whole photoshoot crew has seen a scantily-clad Haruka parade around set, and probably will thousands of others, when the photos hit circulation. "Why didn't you discuss this with me first?"

"You told me you'd be busy this summer, and I shouldn't distract you while you're on the move."

"I didn't say that," Makoto whines. "Alright, maybe I did, to some extent, but didn't you think this was important enough to warrant my attention?"

Haruka dips his fingers into a bucket of water to wash away the chips of paint. "You don't like it," he states, still fairly placid about everything.

Makoto sighs. "No. I'm just saying I'd like a heads-up, whenever my boyfriend decides to strip down to his underwear in front of a whole bunch of smelly old photographers, and who knows what kinds of poses you were made to do –"

"For the record, the photographer was a gentleman," Haruka interrupts. "And it's swim wear, Makoto, not underwear."

"You don't even swim," Makoto counters, childishly.

"I do now," Haru says, just as juvenile.

"Okay, fine." Makoto grounds out the last embers of his cigarette. "Fine. I'm not your keeper. You can do what you want. Sorry I got riled up about it."

Haruka quietly wipes his hands on a clean piece of rag. There's a soft click, then silence, as Makoto switches the track off the player. "You don't need this," Makoto says, turning the entire system off. "You got me, in the flesh." He unzips his guitar bag noisily, sitting back on the bed with his knees folded under him.

"Don't be mad," Haruka says finally. When Makoto looks up, Haru is already facing him from where he sits, blue eyes beseeching.

"I'm not mad, babe," he says, giving a small smile just for reassurance. On the rare occasion he does get angry, it never lasts beyond a minute, especially when it has to do with Haruka. He still splutters, with what Haruka says next.

"I'll suck your dick."

He ends the statement off in a higher tone, an unspoken call for permission that hangs in the air. Makoto must be possessed to decline such a proposal, but he does anyway. "N-not today, Haru," he laughs nervously, and Haruka sees right through him. "But I'll take you up on your offer, some other time? I just wanted to hang with you on my free day, you know. Stay in bed, watch some movie on TV. Eat ice cream. Do something relaxing together."

Haruka removes his apron before climbing onto the bed. Silently, he pries the guitar from Makoto's hands and sets it some distance away. "I'll help you relax," Haru says, spreading his sock-clad knees apart to bow over him, seductive and fully aware of what it's doing to the other.

Who am I kiddin'? Makoto leans back on his hands. I'd enjoy the sight of you servicing my cock any day.

Makoto gulps hard, and allows the other to unbuckle his belt. "I didn't mean to start off on the wrong foot," Makoto says quietly, cradling Haruka's soft cheek in his palm. "I just don't like the fact that – well, you're doing something like that for money. The photog was a chubby man in a greasy black shirt, wasn't he?"

"You talk as if I've been dancing around poles in stripper heels and panties," Haruka says. He pulls out Makoto's dick from his Diesel briefs and begins to stroke it. "And like I said before, the photographer was nice. A little weird, but a nice guy overall. He called me beautiful."

Makoto groans, falling back onto the bed with an arm over his eyes. "Haru, please don't talk about other men when you're about to suck me off. Geez, I'm coming to your next photoshoot, I don't care what you say. I'm gonna watch that guy like a hawk!"

"Whatever you say," Haruka practically whispers against his cock, before taking it into his mouth.

With his rear in the air, Haru bends over, eyes closed in concentration. Makoto stretches over to grab another smoke, unable to resist slapping that sweet ass in the process. "Don't mind if I smoke, okay?" Haruka barely even glances up. His shirt rides down, over his back, until Makoto sees that Haruka isn't naked there after all. "Oh god, Haru," Makoto says, taking his first drag. "Please tell me that wasn't a gift, too."

"Will you stop worrying about that already," Haruka grumbles, openly upset.

"Sorry, I'm sorry," Makoto withdraws, holding his hands up. "Please continue." He almost laughs at how desperate he sounds, but catches himself. "I didn't mean –"

"Yeah, sure, it was a gift. Just not for me."

"Shit," Makoto curses, rubbing the back of his neck. "S-sorry, Haru. I'm really sorry. God, I'm such an ass." He chuckles, letting out a whiff of smoke around the stick that still hangs between his teeth.

"Yeah," Haruka agrees readily. "What an ass." He snatches the cigarette from between Makoto's lips and takes a long, deep puff, sitting back on his knees to watch the smoke curl and rise up, disappearing into the creamy white of the ceiling.

Makoto pulls his lover up to his chest, and they share a slow, smoke-laden kiss, while Haru continues to pump Makoto's dick with his other hand.

"Never liked this brand," Haruka comments, clicking his tongue.

Makoto snuffs the stub out on the ashtray, exhaling the last remnants of smoke. Haruka grips the front of his shirt expectantly. "Just lay back like that, Haru." Makoto flips over, so that he's on top. "I'm gonna take care of you now." His cock is hard against his stomach, but not yet at its full state of arousal. He pushes Haruka's shirt up to fondle his chest and abs, trying not to fantasize how good that body will look in one of those stupid AX speedos.

A satisfied purr escapes Haru's lips, as Makoto runs his palms over his stomach and down to the dip of his pelvis. His hands are large, against Haruka's narrow hips, and they drag along the black lace of Haruka's g-string teasingly. Makoto runs his heated hands all over the soft fabric of Haru's stockings, pausing only to hoist those lithe legs over his shoulders.

Haru stares up at him hazily from under disheveled black bangs. "Fuck me," he moans, bringing his arms up above his head to stretch, making himself appear a little slimmer than before. "Fuck me like one of your groupies."

"Wish I actually had groupies." Makoto snickers.

"Sure you do. You're all famous now. Bet there are tons of boys and girls just dying to be fucked by that big, juicy cock of yours."

Makoto cannot help but let out an appreciative grunt. When Haruka spills out the dirty talk, he always does it in the same impassive manner as when he handles everything else. An unspoken challenge for Makoto to try and break that, using whatever means he can. "Yeah? Well too bad, 'cause they're not you."

He lifts Haruka up by the hips until his body is nearly vertical to the bed, and proceeds to suck him there between his legs, using his teeth to nudge the thin piece of fabric aside. The strangled wail Haruka makes is enough to echo around the large room. Makoto watches him fixedly, at how Haruka flushes from his ears to his chest, how he turns his head to bite down on his fingers to prevent a gasp. When Makoto clamps his mouth onto his clothed erection, Haruka lets out a high cry, flinging his arms up to claw at the edge of the mattress.

"Someone's getting all showy," Makoto smirks, pinching Haru's ass cheeks.

"We haven't done it in so long," Haruka pants out, voice thick with want. "I just want to fuck."

"Pass me the lube," Makoto instructs. "It's there, on the floor by the bed."

Haruka shifts to find it, and Makoto takes the instant to slide the panties down Haru's smooth stocking-clad legs. Once the lube is passed to him, he swivels Haruka around on the bed until they are in a sixty-nine position; he latches onto the back of Haruka's knees and pushes down until Haruka's ass is poised high enough for Makoto to see his hole clearly. Haru whimpers at the sudden stretch but makes no move to object.

"You alright, Haru?" Makoto asks, just to be sure.

A small murmur of approval is all Haruka can summon from his avid throat. He doesn't need to be told, before taking Makoto's cock into his mouth of his own volition, and sucks with great fervor.

Makoto straddles himself properly over his boyfriend, thrusting with a forcefully slow pace. Sweat starts to bead on his back. The last time they did this Haruka choked so badly that Makoto wound up abstaining from sex out of sheer guilt. No matter what, he plans to pull out before he can come down Haru's throat and risk having history repeat itself.

He pours the lube down, watching it pool over and into Haruka's tight hole, before using his fingers to make sure it goes all the way down. The muffled, frantic mewl Haruka makes as he's being proded sounds almost exactly like that porno he watched the other day, together with his band mates in the trailer van. The submissive partner was gagged throughout the film, making all these short, suppressed screams as they were being fucked senseless.

"Can I record this?" he asks. "Just for the sound, I mean."

Haruka slaps him painfully on the hip as if to say, fuck you.

Makoto just chortles. He licks the sweet length of Haruka's dick and balls, while his fingers dig into his wet hole. Haruka hums beneath him, legs unfolding back to impossible degrees, hips bucking upwards. Usually, Makoto would take his time, sucking Haru off until there was enough cum to use as lubricant, but like Haru mentioned before, it's been some time since their last fuck (approximately two weeks, at that), and he's teetering on the edge of his self-restraint. He has never been one for foreplay, anyhow.

"Alright," he says, pulling out of Haruka's throat carefully. "Opening act is over."

Time for the main event.

With both Haruka's ankles in one hand, Makoto maneuvers him around easily as if he's made of nothing, and wrings Haruka's legs apart roughly. He takes his hips up and bumps against Haruka's ass just to give him a preview of things to come. Haruka's entire spine trembles as he coils into the sheets, hissing. Makoto sucks and nibbles at the skin of his thighs, kissing his way up, then snapping the trimming of his socks with his teeth, like Haru showed him before.

Haruka's fingers edge their way up to his own cock, but Makoto swiftly pries them away, sealing both wrists in a vice grip above Haruka's head. "No touching, right?" He means for it to be a gentle reminder, but the hoarseness of his voice translates to a demand for submission.

Haruka's stare is savage, as it eats into him. "So are you gonna do me, or what?"

Makoto's cock twitches but he ignores it, for the sole purpose of bringing Haruka to surrender. He presses down on Haruka's bound wrists and looms over him, as the other hand starts to ravage his insides. Haruka lets out a sharp yelp, kicking wildly around, as his back comes off the mattress in a delicious arc.

"Fuck!" he screams, when Makoto finds the soft spot that is his prostate and flutters two fingers over it, again and again. "Mm! Feels good! Oh, fuck... T-take me –"

"What's my name?"

"Makoto," Haruka purrs it out, a raspy, sensual sound unfurling from the back of his throat.

"Fuck." Makoto aligns his dick and slams in, without an ounce of grace, stripping away whatever breath and dignity Haruka might have left. Haruka shouts at the top of his lungs, clinging to the other's waist tightly with his legs. Even this, Makoto asserts dominance over; with a grunt, he wrests one leg open, spreading Haruka even wider than before. As proven in practice, many times over, Haruka enjoys being told what to do in bed; he'll relish a spanking, or withhold of orgasm, if it means obtaining a greater height of pleasure for both him and his partner. It's taken a while for Makoto to live up to the role, but it turns out, he's a goddamn natural, once he puts his mind to it. Having a really big cock probably plays a part in that, Haruka once commented. Makes him feel powerful that way, like he could take command of anything, or anyone. Makoto blushed at that at first, but could not deny that it was the truth.

Haruka rarely finds the need to use their safe word, and even if he does now, Makoto cannot ensure that he may hear it properly, above the sound of his own animalistic grunts. He turns and twists, this way and that, to find the perfect angle that will give them maximum pleasure. Leaning down for a hungry kiss, he drives himself in deeper, and he swallows the warm vapor of Haruka's pleased gasp into his own mouth readily.

"Am I hurting you?" Makoto asks, when they part. Always, he has to ask once.

"You know that – ah – I'll tell you, if you are."

"So, you like this, right?"

Haruka bites down on his bottom lip, growling softly. "You tell me, you're the rockstar."

Panting, Makoto sits back onto his knees, bringing his hands under Haru's thighs to seize his lovehandles. He thrusts in sharply, jostling Haruka's legs with every snap of his hips. Haruka's head hangs back as his eyes flutter close, and he begins to moan with every strike to his prostate. When he goes slightly limp like this Makoto feels as though he's fucking a rag doll, but he doesn't particularly mind the imagery. Ten more minutes into it, and Haruka clamps up, going rigid. His last few cries are shaky and thick with unshed tears, as he rides out his orgasm, still bouncing on Makoto's cock the entire time.

When he's done, Haruka blinks blearily and checks himself. "Fuck, I dirtied the shirt anyway."

"Throw it to laundry service below, it's all paid for, you know," Makoto says, pausing briefly to wipe the sweat off his brow.

"You gonna squirt soon?" Haruka asks, brazen.

"Fuck, not yet, Haru. I'll need a break if I want this to last."

"How long you planning on going on for?"

"What, tired already?"

"No," Haru says, turning his head away.

"Shit, I'm really parched. Gonna get a drink." Makoto pulls out, cleaning the thin trail of cum off with the sheets. "Stay right there, baby," he teases.

"By the way," Haru says, hugging a pillow lazily, "we're out of ice cream."

"Yeah?" Makoto calls out from the adjoining kitchen. "I'll get some soon. But I'm not letting you eat any of that while we fuck, alright?"

"What's wrong with that?" Haruka grumbles. "Isn't that better than reading a book?"

"That was just that one time, I had to know the ending." Makoto comes back out, popping open a bottle of Schneider Aventinus in one hand, still fully clothed, except for his erect dick hanging out. Haruka watches numbly from where he's sprawled, as Makoto takes a nice long gulp. "I don't like it when you're not with me during sex."

"You go on for way too long."

Makoto sighs. "Usually people don't complain about that, you know." He kneels back down in between Haru's legs and presses the cold glass of the bottle to the other's thigh. Haruka shivers and playfully kicks out. Makoto catches the limb by the ankle before it can hit his head. He takes another swig of beer before placing it at the foot of the mattress.

He's about to continue where he left off, but Haruka stops him with a hand pressed to his chest. "Wait. In the drawer. I want to get high."

Makoto freezes on the spot, only managing to dissect the remark after a good five seconds of stunned silence. He pulls open the drawer brusquely and sifts through the contents until he finds it. When Haruka moves to take it from him Makoto brings it out of reach, fixing the other with a hard stare.

"What the hell, Haru. You're on weed?"

"Geez, I'm not. Relax." Haruka flops his arms over the pillow. "I got it from your manager."

"Nagisa, that little shit," Makoto curses.

"It's just some Mary-J. Not like we never did it before."

"I'm throwing this shit out, after this," Makoto flings it to a corner of the room. "We promised it was gonna be a one-time thing."

"Don't tell me you've never gotten high and fucked some of your fans before."

"Haru, I told you, there – are – no – groupies."

"I know." Haruka removes his bunched up shirt with a languid stretch and throws it off the bed.

"I'm gonna have to spank you, if I find any more of the crap, you understand, Haru?"

"Is that a promise?" Now, completely naked, save for the stockings, Haruka twists sideways into himself, perking his butt out naughtily.

Makoto strikes his hand over it, harder than either of them expected. "I don't go back on my word, Haru. You know I don't like it when you're up in the clouds and not into it. Spread it for me, baby, it's not over yet."

Haruka crosses his legs, still. "It kind of hurts in that position. Do it like this?"

"If you say so." After generously lathering his cock with a fresh coat of lube, Makoto hitches Haruka's body over so that it rests entirely on his side. He clutches both of Haruka's thighs up with one arm and sheathes himself back into that inviting warmth with an open groan. Haru's eyes are shut and his mouth flies open in a shuddering gasp, as his expression flits into one of gratifying discomfort. "I'm gonna go fast," Makoto says, planting a quick kiss on Haruka's shoulder. "So tell me if anything hurts."

A muffled moan is all he gets in response.

It takes less than a few minutes of pounding to get Haru back up, and more sensitive than ever. He bites down on the pillow to smother his embarrassingly high-pitched mewls. Makoto is literally snarling angrily at how excited the sounds are making him feel, and he drives his dick in ruthlessly, impaling that tight ass over and over. With his free hand he tears Haruka's head back to expose the long arch of his neck, and greedily sucks just below the Adam's apple. He aims to leave a bruise there, fuck the photographer, fuck the makeup artist who has to powder it up, they're going to see that Haruka belongs to someone else.

"Hn, fuck! Take it, Haru!"

Haruka sobs, clawing at Makoto's shirt-covered back. With the loud wails he's making, they have to be thankful that the apartment is soundproof, otherwise, to the snooping couple next door, it might sound like someone is being fucked against their will.

At the height of his ecstasy, Haru quivers and clenches around him, coming for a second time. Makoto savors the feeling, his pleasure overflowing like a boiling pot, before he shoots his load into Haruka's pliant ass. He hangs on to the sweet tingling in his loins, fucking persistently, making sure he gets it all in.

"Fuck." Haruka jerks a little, as Makoto takes his dick out. Some cum bubbles out of his hole and over his ass.

Makoto stretches him there, watching the white froth leak out over the sheets, as if admiring some personal handiwork.

"Pervert." Haruka hooks a finger around the waistband of Makoto's jeans and pulls him close. They make out slowly, nibbling and sucking on each other's lips. Haruka tastes the bitterness of the beer Makoto just drank on his tongue, and the spicy residue of a recent breath mint.

"You're a sex god," Haruka says, after breaking their kiss. A rare remark of appreciation, quite likely due to the afterglow of some fantastic fucking.

"I'm just a rockstar," Makoto replies, smiling into Haruka's lips. After another round of wet kisses, he says, "Wanna go again? I think I can go without stopping for some hours."

"Come on." Haruka nudges Makoto's side with his foot. "We're not sixteen anymore."

"I fuck better now than I did, at sixteen."

"Whatever." The tiny smirk Haruka tries to hide gives him away. He rolls away from under Makoto's arms to peel the blue stockings off his legs. They leave behind marks where the cuffs cut into skin. He rubs at them, irked.

"Will you don the whole outfit, next time?" Makoto asks, grabbing his beer off the floor. "The whole schoolgirl getup to go with those socks."

"Sorry, I don't do requests," Haru mutters. He bends over the edge of the pillows, looking for something.

"But you take paid commissions," Makoto says. "And I'm loaded."

Haruka makes a sound of blatant dismissal. "Whatever," he says again, returning up with a wad of tissue to wipe himself off.

Leaning forward to closely admire his lover's naked form, Makoto buries his nose in the crook of Haruka's neck, and takes a whiff. A mix of cologne and a faint hint of Makoto's own smell. He smiles at that. Haruka always smells good, either way. He likes being well-groomed and clean in all places.

"Stop that," Haruka says, edging away. "I probably smell like paint and cum."

"No, you don't." Makoto winds his arms around Haruka, nuzzling into his shoulder. "Haru smells so cute." He slides his hands down the chiselled planes of Haruka's abdomen. "Mm. And you look good, you feel good. I just wanna keep you naked and ready in this room so that I can fuck you anytime I want."

Haruka plucks the bottle of beer from Makoto's hand and drinks up. "Do you talk about stuff like this, with your band mates? Do you talk about me?"

"Not really. Mostly boast about how long we'll last, but that's it."

"Hm."

Makoto chuckles, and the sound vibrates through the both of them. "You're thinking, they probably can't hold a handle to you, am I right?"

Haruka cuffs his lover's head lightly with the mouth of the beer bottle, and drops it into his hand. "You probably lie about it to make them feel better about themselves," Haru says, leaving the bed.

"Where are you going?"

"I'll make you something to eat."

Haru, naked under an apron? Yeah, okay. "Pancakes?" he asks, hopeful.

"Mackerel."

Makoto shoots up from the bed so quickly he almost knocks off the guitar sitting at the edge. "W-wait, wait, wait, Haru. Let me go get the ice cream, I'll get the ice cream, okay?"

"What's your problem?" Haruka sighs. "You haven't eaten fish in a long time, anyway."

"I'd like to keep it that way, thank you."

"I'm making us some mackerel."

"Alright, I'll have to stop you right there, Haru-chan!" Laughing, Makoto captures Haruka by the waist, lifting him over one shoulder easily, and carting him away from the kitchen. Haruka doesn't struggle as much, because Makoto is stalwart and fit under those clothes, and it will take more than just a push and shove from a smaller man to make him yield.

"You hate it that much?" Haruka asks, as he's being deposited back on the mattress. What he actually means is another thing.

Makoto chucks him under the chin, and Haruka withdraws, vexed. "Don't get me wrong, I like it when you cook for me, but I'm getting a little scared of the mackerel obsession."

"Mackerel not good enough for you now?"

"It's not that! I just... need a break from it, is all."

"What are we gonna eat, then?"

A glowering Haruka is something Makoto will be more than happy to pacify. "I know what I wanna eat," Makoto says, licking his lips while staring at Haru.

"Same here," Haruka says, pushing the other away. "Go get the fucking ice-cream."

"Haruuuu!"

~ooo~

When he wakes up, the digital clock by the bedside reads 5.03AM. They don't have curtains, so the bluish light of the early morning bathes the apartment entirely. It is the time of day when Haruka wakes up, even if it is a Sunday morning, just to lay awake in bed, swathed in blue. This morning is no different, with the exception of a familiar aroma wafting from the kitchen, and Makoto absent from his side.

Haruka shifts within the blankets sleepily, looking around. His momentary hazy vision allows him to catch a half-naked Makoto below the stairwell, back towards him, and it takes a while to figure out what's going on. Haru curls on his side, watching the muscles on Makoto's bare back clench and ripple with every lift he makes, anchored firmly to the contour of the stair landing platform. Haruka secretly counts the number of remaining pull-ups, before Makoto lets go, coming to rest on the floor with a satisfied sigh.

"How many was that?" Haruka makes his conscious presence known.

"Oh, you're awake," Makoto says, turning around to greet him with a bright smile. He has his black-rimmed Ray Ban glasses on. "Got down to thirty-five."

"Liar," Haruka says curtly.

"Yeah," Makoto chuckles. "I kind of lost count at fifty."

Haruka rolls his eyes, burrowing into the sheets. They smell so good, they smell like Makoto.

"Was gonna surprise you with breakfast." Makoto climbs back into bed, hugging the large lump of sheets that is Haruka. He finds the hole where Haru's head is peeking out and kisses his crown. "Guess what I'm cooking?" he sings.

After a second of contemplation, Haruka stills, perking his head up, eyes literally gleaming in the dim light. The scent from the kitchen gives it away well enough.

Makoto beams at him. "I might not know how to grill it as well as you, but I sure know how to work the oven."

If there's one food Haruka loves more than mackerel, it's the mackerel that Makoto goes out of his way to cook for him, even if he hates touching raw seafood.

"Fuck me again," Haruka says, seriously. "I don't care if you want to go on 'til next Sunday."

Makoto laughs. "Really? I already made you cum five times yesterday, if I'm not mistaken."

"Five? Don't be so sure."

"Yeah, I know. I lost count at twenty."

Haruka tackles Makoto to the mattress, using the entire mass of quilt as his buffer. For a long time, they lie there tangled up in each other's limbs, making out, even after the oven rings and the grilled mackerel sits there on the tray, forgotten. Haruka sucks on Makoto's bottom lip, using his tongue to slide along the skin on the underside of it. There is a faint trace of lime there, from juice he drank from before. A hand brushes across his cheekbone, and a fluttering feeling makes itself home in the pit of his belly. Makoto is talking a bit, probably, Haruka cannot be sure; something about his lips or his breath or the fish waiting for them in the kitchen, he doesn't know.

Haruka gasps as large hands come up to knead his ass slowly. Makoto takes the opportunity to dip his head down and nibble on the spot where he left a mark just the day before. It's swelling well, purplish-red and outstanding.

"Makoto," Haruka moans, stretching his neck out, running his hands through Makoto's hair.

It is here, in the midst of their passion, when they're faced with the extremely unfortunate encounter of having someone waltz right into the room, and it is not even the first time this has happened –

"Mako-chan! Did you get my text? I'm here with the contract."

– with the exact same person.

There is only one other with the keys to the place, and that is Makoto's band manager.

"N-Nagisa!" In his panic, Makoto tosses Haru to the side, shielding him with extra pillows, just in case. "I-I thought you said you were coming at around eight?" His hair is disheveled, glasses askew, and he looks practically mortified.

"Nagisa," Haruka says, very grimly. "Makoto is busy. Come back later." The harshness is lost when he's bundled up like that, looking like a giant marshmallow.

"Haru-chan! You're here too!" Nagisa exclaims cheerily, coming over as if to join them on the bed. "How's life? How's the cover art coming up?"

"Nagisa, please don't come any closer," Makoto begs.

"What's wrong?" Nagisa puts his hands on his hips. "It's not like you guys were gonna have sex this early in the morning, right?"

Haruka shrinks into the burrow of blankets until all that's visible of him is a tuft of black hair.

"W-well," Makoto stammers. "I was just about to prepare breakfast anyway. Wanna join us, Nagisa?"

"Yay, breakfast!"

Haruka growls, angrily tumbling out of bed in his underwear.

~ooo~

Apparently, Nagisa arrived early that morning to avoid the onslaught of reporters crowding in wait at the front of the apartment building. The sight is something Makoto is not accustomed to, and he shuffles his feet nervously on the carpet of the lobby, counting the number of people outside, and going through scripted lines in his head repeatedly. Something is off; the band has not done anything to warrant such attention from the media, not yet at least. How they managed to trace him to his city home is also another issue. The last thing he needs is rabid fans prowling the estate for a snapshot, or more.

"Nagisa," Makoto says, through clenched teeth. "What exactly did you pull?"

"Heh." Nagisa has the gull to look a bit sheepish at that. Something is definitely off. "I'll explain it to you in the car! For now, just let me do the talking!"

He walks up to the entrance, with a slight bounce in his stride. Makoto can only follow closely behind, cramming his shades on, and checking his hair in the glass door reflection one last time.

The moment the door opens, it is chaos. Microphones are thrust into their faces from all sides, camera flashes going on, questions being hurled at them all at once. Nagisa calms them down quickly, surprisingly for one who enjoys soaking in a good dose of discord every now and then.

Their car hasn't arrived yet, despite Nagisa's reassurances, and Makoto's fingers start to twitch restlessly. He pats the back right pocket of his jeans to make sure the pack of smokes he keeps are still there. He has a right mind to scamper back into the building, when, "Tachibana-kun, is it true, what they say about your sexual history?" His body freezes, his mind going numb with all the blood that's rushing there. He can only turn to a cheerful Nagisa, glaring through his shades as hard as he can.

'What the fuck, Nagisa?!' he tries to mouth as inconspicuously as he can.

"You're having an affair with another man now, am I correct? Is it a fellow band member?"

"How do you feel about your sexual preferences, Tachibana-kun?"

"There are sources saying that you're dating a high profile supermodel from the Iwatobi agency," another reporter chimes in. "Is it true?"

"Hey, hey," Nagisa cuts in, waving his hands. "We'll only entertain questions about the band's music, people!"

Whatever lies and rumors being spread about him out there, Makoto has only been half-prepared for. There goes the squeaky clean image he desired to keep from the beginning. 'But it's no fun if there's no private life drama, after all!' is what Nagisa preaches from time to time.

Yeah, bring on the sex and drug scandals – fuck this, Makoto thinks, intending to calm his nerves with a drag. He fumbles getting the pack out, because his jeans are a little tight, but when he pops it out his pocket, something else slides out as well.

What. The. Fuck.

One can hear a pin drop, the moment the piece of garment hits the floor, and everyone realizes what it is. It's black and thin, but cannot be mistaken for anything else other than a lacy g-string. Three seconds of painful silence later, a single camera flash goes off, thus igniting an entire frenzy of similar flashes and even more frantic questioning. Amidst the bright lights, Makoto hides his face in his hands, sobbing.

"Whoa! Mako-chan's been a naughty boy!" Nagisa teases, not the least bit helpful.

"HARUUUU!" Makoto lets his head up, and screams.

-End-

Notes: Thank you for reading! (: I hope to have about 3 more smut-filled chapters for this fic, before wrapping things up.

So what do you guys think? Maybe it's not obvious, but I'm trying out a different approach to what I'm normally used to, in the writing style. Also, the sex was honestly just meant to be mindless sex, but the more I wrote it, the more I felt the need to pepper it with stuff like... talking. Communication during sex is important too, kids! Haha. (I also wanted to allow their AU lifestyle to show through a bit); I don't even know if it was sexy or not, but I tried! (*whimpering*) I might tone down the story for sake of emphasizing the smut, or would you guys like having a bit of story to go with your smut? Haha, kind of a strange question, is it...