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The thing about Eiji is that he’s kind of bossy.
He’s a flurry of color in the morning, gathering errant objects scattered across their living room (“Ash, I told you to just buy a bookshelf.”) cajoling Ash out of bed at ungodly hours and plating a pungent breakfast (“Don’t make faces at the pickled vegetables, they’re good for you!”) insisting on a morning jog that Ash enjoys more than he can admit, laughing and free in the cool ocean air.
Today, Eiji has a different mission. They play-wrestle among piles of Ash’s ungraded papers and textbooks as Buddy snores in the corner.
“Saturdays are for relaxing,” Eiji lectures him, determined and all the more adorable for it. “Take a break. You can always work later."
“And if I don’t, you’ll just kick my ass, is that it?” Ash teases, and he lets Eiji push him back on the sofa with a breathless laugh.
“I win!” He’s smug, hips slotted over Ash’s, hands spread out on his chest.
“I can live with that,” Ash says. His hands slip over Eiji’s ass, squeezing shamelessly. Color rises to Eiji’s cheeks, and he’s still trying very hard to look stern.
He’s bossy, until he isn’t.
The world is still around them. There’s a Depeche Mode song playing faintly on the radio, the salt-rich breeze wafting in through their open window. Their home is enveloped in the soft blue of morning. Outside, the ocean laps at white sand, setting a hypnotic rhythm.
Above him, Eiji rolls his hips experimentally. Ash’s inhale is sharp.
“You’re a tease,” he tells him.
“You started it,” Eiji shoots back.
“That’s true.” He pinches Eiji’s ass, a lazy grin spread across his face as Eiji gasps. He isn’t smug for much longer, as Eiji descends upon him for a kiss, slow and deep and hungry.
All the years spent disentangling his desires from what others expected of him have led Ash to this. Eiji’s warmth, and his supple thighs against Ash’s hips, and the languid movement of his lips as they kiss. His moan as Ash presses up into him.
What Ash wants is to be buried inside of Eiji, so deep that nothing can separate them.
“Ash.” Eiji’s hand cups his face. “Are you still with me?”
He’s always watchful when they’re like this, attuned to the slightest shift in mood, ready to soothe every hurt. There are days when Ash is whisked into his head, back into a time where every touch was a prelude to violence.
Today is not one of those days. He turns his head and presses a kiss to Eiji’s palm.
“I’m right here, Eiji,” he says. And in the haze of desire, he flips them over.
“Is this okay?” He whispers into Eiji’s ear, as his legs wrap around Ash’s waist.
“Of course it’s okay.” He can feel Eiji’s smile against him. In the early days of their lovemaking, Ash had followed every touch with frenzied questions - Is this okay, am I hurting you, are you afraid? Eiji had smoothed back his hair with infinite patience. I am never afraid when I’m with you.
Experience has made him bolder, and he knows Eiji’s body like a well-charted map. He kisses his jawline with reverence, and then moves onto his neck and chest. He leaves a trail of scarlet marks as he makes his way down. No one can take care of Eiji like he can, and here is the physical proof.
Eiji’s face is flushed and he’s panting. He bucks up and Ash pushes him back down, well-versed enough to know EIji wouldn’t want his release so soon.
“Don’t be mean,” Eiji mutters, but there’s no heat in it. His eyes are playful, and Ash kisses the tip of his nose.
“Let’s actually take our clothes off first, and not come in our pants grinding like we’re teenagers,” he says, and Eiji laughs.
Eiji lifts his arms up, letting Ash remove his shirt. He likes for Ash to undress him and Ash likes it too, unwrapping Eiji like he’s a present. He pauses at the buttons of Eiji’s jeans, overwhelmed at the sight of him. Eiji is splayed out on their cushions, relaxed and beaming, wine-red marks decorating his tanned skin. The window is hazy with fog behind him, and in the wan light he looks ethereal, like he’s from another world.
“Did you forget how to take my pants off?” Eiji asks, because of course he’ll still tease. “You unbutton them and slide them off, it’s very easy.”
“Don’t be a brat,” Ash says, removing his jeans.
“I thought I was a grumpy elderly man?”
“You’re that too. I don’t know how you manage it.”
Eiji’s in his boxers now. Ash presses his hand against his arousal through the cloth, provoking a strangled moan.
“Ash,” he gasps. Ash just smirks at him.
“What? Something you’re impatient for, Eiji?”
“Ash,” Eiji moans his name again and Ash feels himself growing harder at the sound. “I want to come, let me come...”
“But we’ve barely gotten started yet,” Ash says. “I think I’m gonna take my time.”
Eiji shakes his head. “No, I mean, I want you to let me come. But only when you decide.”
Control has always been something foreign to Ash. A lifetime without it has left him with a boundless hunger, one he can really only confront when he’s alone with Eiji. It’s addicting, a natural high.
“Okay, Eiji.” He speaks softly, caresses Eiji’s jaw with all the tenderness he can muster. “I’ll let you come. When I feel like it.”
Ash thumbs at Eiji’s plush bottom lip. Eiji quivers as his eyes fall shut. His trust is so absolute. All Ash wants is to be worthy of it.
Eiji is pliant as Ash removes his boxers, hitches his ankles over his shoulders, and presses his mouth to his rim.
The following moan is deeper, fuller than before. Eiji grasps at nothing as Ash’s tongue moves inside him. He pulls back momentarily, watching Eiji quake before he leans forward again to press a feather-soft kiss to his hole. He kisses once, then twice, worshipful, before he dives in again, more aggressive than before.
Eiji is falling apart. His hand reaches down to stroke himself and Ash catches his wrist.
“I’m deciding when you come, remember?” He murmurs against his rim. Eiji shivers at the sensation.
“You are - ah - making it hard,” Eiji groans, throwing his head back as Ash resumes his exploration of Eiji’s body, alternating between nipping and sucking before pressing his tongue in again. In and out, a harsh metronome. Eiji writhes and pants, overwhelmed.
“Ash,” Eiji says, out of breath. “Please.”
“What was that?” Ash licks a stripe up Eiji’s cock, delighting in how he shudders. “I don’t think I heard you.”
“I said please.” Eiji’s cheeks are a rosy pink and his eyes are glazed with tears. Ash wants to draw this out longer, but he’s always been weak to those eyes. He can’t refuse him.
“Only because I’m feeling generous,” he says. He sits up to angle his cock at Eiji’s entrance. Eiji’s ankles are still propped on his shoulders.
“Good thing you’re so flexible, huh?” Ash grins down at him and Eiji huffs, impatient.
“Just fuck me already!” He manages to gasp out and hey, maybe he’s still a little bossy after all.
But Ash doesn’t fuck him. However intense his desire, Eiji’s well-being comes first.
He coats his fingers in lube and slips in one, then two. He pushes in slowly, with herculean restraint. He wants to fuck Eiji badly, but he wants him safe and unharmed even more.
And Eiji wants this. He’s still hard, still holding out until Ash gives him permission to come. The knowledge that Eiji is getting off on being his is almost enough to make Ash come undone, without any fucking at all.
Ash slips in a third finger and Eiji cries out. His eyes are shut and his rosebud lips hang open.
“That good, Eiji?” Ash asks, pumping his fingers faster.
“So good,” Eiji answers. “I - I want more.”
It’s so rare for Eiji to actually vocalize his desires. He’s always prioritizing others over himself, always the caretaker, always locking his emotions behind a smile. But now he knows what he’s asking for, and Ash is the only one who can give it to him.
“I’ll give you more,” Ash says. He didn’t know he was capable of sounding so gentle until he met Eiji.
He pulls his fingers out, inciting a keening sound from Eiji, and quickly replaces them with his cock.
Eiji adjusts like he’s made for him. And maybe he is, because Ash doesn’t think he’s experienced anything better than this. He’s inside Eiji, intertwined with him, marking him in ways that can’t be undone. And Eiji is gasping in his ear, pleading for more, faster, harder.
He shifts his angle. Eiji’s pleasure is sudden and sharp. Ash feels his orgasm coming and stops moving.
“I want us to come together,” he says, panting.
He grasps Eiji’s cock and moves his hand, firm and fluid and leisurely all at once. He thrusts as he strokes, matching his tempo. With every stroke, Eiji’s cries grow more erratic. With every thrust, Ash finds it harder to hold on.
Their orgasms arrive simultaneously. Ash collapses on top of Eiji, shaking. Eiji cups his face and pulls him close as they kiss each other senseless.
Ash realizes his desire, once overflowing, is now only partially sated. He wants Eiji again. But Eiji is exhausted beneath him, and his comfort matters more.
“I’ll be back in a second,” Ash promises. Eiji nods, his eyes still closed, contentment etched into his face.
Ash discards soiled latex in the trash and finds washcloths and a heating pad. He cleans Eiji gently when he returns. His traces the cool cloth against Eiji’s warm skin like he’s polishing something precious.
“Are you feeling okay?” Ash asks quietly. He expects a short response, or maybe just a nod, but Eiji suddenly turns to him with his large, bright eyes like he’s hardly fazed at all.
“I liked it!” He says happily. “Let’s do it again.”
Ash is gaping. Eiji’s stamina has always been good, but a refractory period this short is kind of ridiculous.
Eiji seems to pick up on his skepticism. “I run several miles each day and eat natto. I told you, it is good for you.”
“You talk about natto like it cures cancer,” Ash mutters, and Eiji just grins at him.
“It has lots of iron! You could use it, with how you almost pass out from low blood pressure.”
“I’d rather pass out,” Ash says dryly. But really, his diet has been better. Everything has been better, easier, more vivid, since Eiji walked into Ash's life like he was always meant to be there.
“And who says I can’t go again?” Ash asks, leaning over Eiji, who doesn’t even try to disguise his eagerness.
The ocean is murky and gray outside their home. Music carries into their room. The radio is still on, some Patti Labelle love song that they hardly register, lost in pleasure that crescendos like the tide.