Utsukushii Koto: Volume 3 - Part 1

The content warning is in the footnotes⁰.

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That day, Yosuke Matsuoka arrived at the office at 9:20 a.m.—ten minutes before the meeting was scheduled to start. Since he hadn’t been able to attend the morning briefing, he had his subordinate Shinozaki give him a quick update before heading straight to the conference room.

It was the usual departmental meeting, but there was no report from the sales team this time. As he sat listening to the routine agenda, he slouched slightly, stifling a yawn more than once and shifting in his seat repeatedly. It was just too painful to sit upright.

Every time a dull ache shot through his lower body like a numb sting, memories of the night with Motofumi Hiromatsu came flooding back, and it was maddening. The sensation of their passionate kiss, the hesitant fingers trailing across his back, the quiet gasp near his ear. Just remembering it made his body heat up from deep within.

“…Hey.”

Called back to himself by Saijo, the General Affairs Section Chief—his peer in age—Matsuoka blinked back into the present. Around him, people were rising from their seats and making for the door.

“What are you spacing out for? The meeting’s over.”

“Oh—right.”

He stood up quickly, and the tingling in his lower back spread through his body with a slow burn. The odd, irritating ache refused to go away. But the idea that this was still Hiromatsu’s lingering presence… that thought alone made him a little happy. Clearly, he was beyond saving.

“It’s rare to see you so out of it,” Saijo commented as they walked down the hallway, raising both arms in a wide stretch. With a sturdy build forged during his rugby days in college, Saijo’s mindset was as straightforward and physical as his appearance. Despite landing a managerial role at a young age, he wasn’t pretentious and had no hidden sides to him, which made him easy to get along with.

“Still in weekend mode?”

Matsuoka gave a sheepish chuckle and a small yawn. “Maybe. I was out all day yesterday, so I might just be tired.”

The weekend had felt like a rollercoaster. So much emotional upheaval packed into just two days—enough to last a year. Reuniting with the man he had once loved. Being thrown around by the man’s words, dragged from place to place, and in the end… being told I love you.

He had always wanted to hear those words. To be loved. But even when they were finally handed to him, he couldn’t just swallow them whole. He’d been rejected twice before, and he knew that Hiromatsu had a wavering heart. Even if he got carried away and said “I love you,” there was a real chance that Hiromatsu would later walk it back with a casual never mind.

Matsuoka had made that invitation hoping to bring Hiromatsu back to his senses. He hadn’t wanted to cling to false hope. And yet, contrary to expectations, Hiromatsu had touched him without hesitation, even though he was a man. There was no roughness, only gentleness—both in his hands and in his words, almost unbelievably sweet.

Even though he’d been so careful, his feelings had sunk right past the safety threshold in an instant. Even now, at the office, the memory of their naked, tangled bodies clouded his thoughts. He could almost feel the gentle touch on his cheek. And just from that, his ears grew warm with arousal.

“In this heat, where’d you go anyway?”

“Huh?”

“You said you were out yesterday.”

When he named the town where he’d been with Hiromatsu, Saijo looked surprised.

“Was it a business trip?”

“No, it was personal.”

“What were you doing that far out?”

He couldn’t very well say he’d been dragged onto a Shinkansen by the man he loved, or that they’d spent the whole time having sex, only returning in the early hours of the morning.

Dodging Saijo’s increasingly curious questions, Matsuoka finally made his way back to the office. He sat down carefully, yet a dull throb shot through his center, stirring awareness of the man who wasn’t even there.

He knew there were stacks of paperwork waiting on his desk, but before anything else, he reached into the pocket of his suit and pulled out his phone.

There was still no reply to the message he’d sent from the train. He knew Hiromatsu wasn’t the kind of guy to text during work, and yet… he couldn’t help feeling a little disappointed.

Back then, all he’d wanted was to convey his feelings. He just wanted to see him, to be near him, and the message he’d sent turned into a string of incoherent rambling. Thinking about it now, it was downright pitiful—clingy, even childish. He couldn’t stop worrying that Hiromatsu might have thought he was immature.

After years of unrequited love, he’d been rejected—brutally. He’d cut off all means of contacting the man, convinced they would never see each other again. And yet, after just one night, they’d ended up in bed together… and somehow, they were now dating. Even now, he didn’t fully understand how any of it had happened. It all felt like some kind of dream.

He switched his phone off silent and let out a small sigh. It was like he’d leapt through multiple relationship stages all at once, and now the recoil had hit him—he couldn’t settle down even when he was alone. He figured he might as well try to get some work done and reached for the stack of documents in the inbox on his desk.

“Section Manager.”

When he looked up, Uemura was standing in front of him—a short-haired assistant section manager.

“Do you have a moment? It’s about Daitō Corporation…”

That had originally been Matsuoka’s account, but he’d passed it on to Uemura when he was promoted. Even though he’d warned her about the quirks of the employee who served as their point of contact, issues had kept cropping up. He’d thought that, as a woman, she might be treated with a bit more courtesy—but he’d underestimated the situation.

He’d suggested transferring the account to someone else, but she had insisted, “I’ll try a bit longer,” with admirable resolve. Once they finished the discussion, Uemura asked out of the blue:

“Did something good happen?”

“Huh? Oh, uh… why do you ask?”

“You just seemed like you were in a good mood.”

All he could do was give a strained smile. After Uemura returned to her desk, he tried picking up the documents again, but he couldn’t focus. Hours had passed since they’d parted, and yet his skin still buzzed with sensation. They were no longer in that hotel room. Hiromatsu wasn’t touching him now. But the memories—the feel of his touch—kept rising vividly to the surface.

He opened his drawer and pulled out a pack of cigarettes and a lighter, then stepped out of the office. At the end of the corridor was a smoking area partitioned off at the ceiling with a plastic panel, a ventilation fan buzzing above. It felt a little indulgent to take a break this early in the morning, but he couldn’t focus like this anyway.

Sitting down would aggravate the ache in his hips, so he stayed standing, leaning against the wall as he lit his cigarette.

“Section Manager, sneaking a smoke too?”

His subordinate, Shinozaki, strolled into the smoking space. The guy was notorious even among the sales team as a heavy smoker. It was a bit early for a break, but Matsuoka couldn’t exactly scold him while indulging himself.

“Not going to sit down?”

Shinozaki cast a sidelong glance at Matsuoka leaning against the wall.

“I’ll just be a minute.”

“Then I’ll join you,” Shinozaki said, settling onto the bench. Through the window at the far end of the corridor, the sky was a dull gray. It had been clear that morning. Matsuoka found himself idly wondering what the weather was like out west.

“Come to think of it, you were in quite a rush this morning. It’s rare to see you running late.”

Matsuoka tapped the ash from his cigarette into the tray.

“…I overslept.”

“Maybe because you were doing something exhausting the night before?”

Shinozaki narrowed his eyes at him. He was spot on, but Matsuoka didn’t want to give him the satisfaction of being right, so he simply shrugged and took another drag.

“Section Manager… you sure you don’t have a girlfriend?”

He’d always said he didn’t. And it had been true—until now. But if he was dating Hiromatsu, then dealing with girls flirting with him like before would only be a hassle. Shinozaki was a talker, and not exactly known for keeping secrets. If he told him, it would be office gossip before the day was out. Still… maybe this was a good opportunity.

"Yeah," Matsuoka admitted.

The moment he confirmed it, Shinozaki leaned in eagerly. “I knew it. Honestly, it always felt weirder that you didn’t have a partner. But man, your fans are gonna cry. Some of them are seriously into you, you know. So—is your girlfriend someone from the office?”

“No comment on that one.”

“Then what kind of person is she? I swear I won’t tell anyone—come on, just give me a hint.”

Matsuoka looked up at the ceiling. “Just… an ordinary person.”

Shinozaki immediately pouted. “Everyone says that. ‘Ordinary’ doesn’t tell me anything.”

“Gentle, a bit of a worrier, and kind of indecisive. Alright, that’s enough on the subject.”

Shinozaki let out a dissatisfied “Ehh,” but didn’t press further. He might be easygoing, but he knew when to back off.

“My girlfriend’s cute, sure, but sometimes she’s a real pain,” he muttered.

Matsuoka recalled that Shinozaki had a girlfriend at the regional office; this would be their second year together.

“She’s always nagging me to take her out on weekends. Even when I say I’m tired and want to rest, she gets all moody, saying I’ve been cold lately. I mean, sure, you put in the effort at first, but keeping that level of energy up all the time? No way.”

With a sigh, Shinozaki exhaled a long stream of smoke.

“And lately she’s been all over me about cutting back on cigarettes. I figured she didn’t care since she never said anything before—but apparently, she always hated it. I’m stressed out from work as it is. If I can’t even relax when I’m with her, then what’s the point?”

“Well, yeah, that’s understandable.”

Matsuoka responded with a vague nod, but his gaze dropped to the cigarette pack in his own hand. He hadn’t used to smoke much. The number of cigarettes he went through had risen sharply after Hiromatsu moved back to the countryside.

Hiromatsu didn’t smoke. When he had tried once, he’d ended up coughing so violently it was almost comical. He never said he hated it when Matsuoka smoked, but the fact that he didn’t do it himself probably meant he didn’t like it either.

“You ever had this brand before?” Matsuoka asked, showing Shinozaki the box.

“Yeah, I kinda like it.”

“Then take it. Still half a pack left.”

He tossed the case lightly, and Shinozaki caught it one-handed.

“What’s with the sudden generosity?”

“I’ve decided to quit.”

“No way. You’re joking. Don’t ditch me like that!”

Laughing, Matsuoka turned and left the smoking area. He never kept a stock of cigarettes, so that was the last of them. The lighter—he’d throw it out. He wasn’t going to smoke anymore.

…He didn’t want to keep even one part of himself that Hiromatsu might dislike.

◇:-:◆:-:◇

They agreed to meet at Tokyo Station. Hiromatsu didn’t know the address of the new apartment, and since the shinkansen stopped there, it was a convenient transfer point for Matsuoka, too. What he’d completely forgotten, though, was that it was rush hour. And it was Friday—near the transfer gate, the crowd was immense. The heat of all those bodies packed together was stifling, and just standing there made sweat bead on his forehead.

Not wanting to keep him waiting, Matsuoka had arrived a little early. The shinkansen might be delayed, but it would never arrive ahead of schedule. As waves of commuters surged past him in a rush to be first through the gate, he scanned the crowd carefully.

Finally, he spotted a familiar face. His heart skipped a beat. Hiromatsu was weaving his way through the crowd toward the ticket gate, looking around but not noticing him. Matsuoka raised his right hand high.

At last, their eyes met. Hiromatsu’s face—still in its carefully neutral “public” expression—broke into a soft smile of relief as he made his way over.

“It’s packed in here.”

Hiromatsu wiped the sweat from his brow with his fingertips. He was dressed in a dull checked short-sleeved shirt and jeans, with a large navy tote bag slung over his right shoulder. It had been four days since they’d last seen each other—Monday morning.

“Sorry, I wasn’t thinking. Seven o’clock on a weekday? Of course it’s rush hour. I should’ve picked somewhere else to meet.”

Matsuoka apologized, but Hiromatsu shook his head.

“Everywhere in the station would’ve been crowded anyway. And we found each other, so that’s what matters. I’ve been in the countryside so long I forgot what this kind of crowd feels like—it’s a bit overwhelming.”

They talked via video call every day—often for one or two hours at a stretch. And yet, seeing him face to face made Matsuoka feel oddly nervous, even though he could chat about almost anything on-screen without hesitation.

“I’m starving. Wanna grab dinner first? Is there somewhere you want to go, Hiromatsu-san?”

“I’m not too familiar with the area around the station, so anywhere’s fine.”

“Then how about the izakaya near my place? The atmosphere’s nice there.”

Side by side, they wove their way through the crowd toward the subway platform. It was slightly less packed than the area around the JR gates, but once they boarded, the train car was as cramped as ever. To make things worse, a man standing behind them had on huge headphones, and the tinny thump of his music leaked loud enough to be irritating. With the noise and the crush of people, they could barely exchange a word.

Only after getting off at the station near Matsuoka’s apartment did they finally escape the crowd. The train had been hot and stuffy, but the air outside wasn’t much better. The breeze was lukewarm, the atmosphere humid.

Even once the noise faded, Hiromatsu remained quiet. Matsuoka pretended not to notice and kept up a bright tone.

“What time did you leave your place?”

“Hmm… around three-thirty, I think.”

“It’s Friday. Was work okay?”

“Yeah. It’s only busy in the mornings.”

Hiromatsu rarely initiated conversation, so things naturally trailed off. He’d taken a train and then a shinkansen—over three hours of travel. Maybe he was just too tired to feel like talking.

Matsuoka closed his mouth, falling silent to match the man beside him. He had wanted to see Hiromatsu so badly. The moment the shinkansen doors closed on Monday morning, the ache had set in. He’d been fidgeting all day, checking the time every few minutes. He’d waited so eagerly—and now, even standing beside him, the silence felt unexpectedly lonely.

The izakaya was just off a side street, yet it was crowded, with most of the tables already taken. Still, turnover was fast, and they were soon seated in a semi-private booth after only five minutes.

“The braised pork here is really good. They also do a great pickled dish.”

As he explained the menu, Hiromatsu leaned forward from across the table to peer down at Matsuoka’s hand.

“Which one?”

He came close enough that Matsuoka caught the faint scent of sweat. Hiromatsu’s scent. Just that was enough to make Matsuoka’s body heat up, and he jerked back suddenly, startled by the intensity of his own reaction.

“What’s wrong?”

“Ah… no, it’s nothing…”

He’d only caught a whiff of his scent, and yet it had been enough to nearly make him hard—he was stunned. Maybe if he were a teenager, sure, but to get this worked up without even being touched… it was absurd.

“You okay? Your face is red.”

When Hiromatsu touched his cheek, Matsuoka’s body jolted. Perhaps startled by the reaction, Hiromatsu’s fingers pulled back.

“Ah, I was just surprised. It’s not that I didn’t like it or anything.”

He scrambled to clarify, and Hiromatsu gave a small, sheepish smile. Matsuoka grabbed a moist towelette and pressed it to his flushed face.

He wanted to act normal. They’d had dinner together dozens of times before—but now he was so hyperaware it was embarrassing.

Before—before he was told I love you—he had kept a careful distance. He hadn’t wanted his obvious feelings to scare Hiromatsu off. He avoided flirty topics, made sure not to stare too long. He thought he’d managed it well.

But once Hiromatsu said he loved him, everything had changed. Now Matsuoka was constantly aware, constantly anticipating, and it made him clumsy and awkward. They were dating now. He was allowed to touch him whenever he wanted, to gaze at him as much as he liked. Those things were permitted now. He didn’t have to hold back anymore—and the moment that became true, he stiffened up like a wind-up doll with a broken spring.

He started to feel uneasy. His body wanted, craved—but his nerves twisted into rejection. Could he really go through with sex in this state?

A flush of heat rose up his back. The fact that he’d come here tonight assuming they would do it… was mortifying. Hiromatsu was supposed to stay over for both Friday and Saturday nights. Maybe they wouldn’t do anything tonight after all.

The beer arrived, and they toasted. The food came out quickly, one dish after another, and Matsuoka focused on eating. Hiromatsu had a healthy appetite, too, and the dishes on the table disappeared in no time.

Everything had vanished so cleanly that Matsuoka wondered if he should order more—maybe Hiromatsu wasn’t satisfied yet?—but before he could decide, Hiromatsu said, “Shall we head out?”

He glanced at the clock. It hadn’t even been a full hour. Usually when they went out drinking, they stayed nearly two. He figured Hiromatsu must be tired and eager to rest, and replied, “Yeah, let’s.”

Hiromatsu insisted on paying for the meal. Matsuoka said they could split it, but Hiromatsu countered, “I’m staying with you for two days,” and wouldn’t budge. In the end, Matsuoka let him pay. Refusing too stubbornly might’ve made Hiromatsu sulky—and the Shinkansen alone had cost him enough. Matsuoka didn’t want to put any more strain on him. But Hiromatsu, while gentle, was also proud. Words had to be chosen carefully.

The walk from the izakaya to the apartment was five minutes. Along the way, Matsuoka brought up the nephew Hiromatsu was so fond of, but the conversation didn’t last long.

The apartment he’d moved into about four months ago was bigger than the last. Back then, he’d been desperate to change his environment and made the decision at the first real estate office he visited. The rent was higher, and it was a little farther from work, but the neighborhood was good—convenient stores and parks nearby, and a big supermarket within walking distance.

They walked in silence. Matsuoka found himself thinking that maybe he was the only one spinning his wheels here. Hiromatsu seemed calm as ever, not trying to change the mood. Or maybe… maybe Matsuoka was the only one who found the silence awkward.

They passed through the building’s entrance and stepped into the elevator. Matsuoka stared at the tips of his shoes, thinking honestly that if things stayed this tense once they were alone inside the apartment, it was going to be hard.

Even when they reached the door, he hesitated to unlock it. But of course, it’s not like he could tell Hiromatsu to go home. He opened the door and pressed the switch inside the entryway.

“Come on in.”

Matsuoka let Hiromatsu step inside first, then locked the door behind them. As he turned around, his right arm was suddenly tugged, and without any warning, he was pulled into an embrace. From the base of the neck right in front of him came that familiar scent again—sweat, unmistakably Hiromatsu.

“Ah—Hiromatsu-sa…”

The sudden closeness made his heart leap into his throat. His chin was tilted up roughly, and their lips pressed together. An arm wrapped tighter around him, and a hot tongue slipped between his lips. Matsuoka gave a jolt at the sensation, and Hiromatsu’s movements paused for a beat.

Their lips parted, and Hiromatsu looked down at him, suddenly anxious. The lack of buildup, the abruptness of the approach—it had caught Matsuoka off guard. But it wasn’t unpleasant, and he didn’t want to push him away. Still, he couldn’t bring himself to say keep going… it was just too embarrassing.

So he wrapped his arms around Hiromatsu’s back and pulled him in, hoping it would be enough of a signal. Sensing that, Hiromatsu leaned in again and kissed him deeply.

Whether it was good or bad, Matsuoka couldn’t say. Just the knowledge that it was Hiromatsu made his mind blur and scatter, his breath catching again and again. As they kissed, Hiromatsu gently ran his fingers through Matsuoka’s hair, over and over. That touch alone sent shivers through him—it made him so happy it was almost painful.

“…nnh…”

A small moan escaped him, and just like that, the sweetness of the moment snapped. Hiromatsu pushed him away with a jolt.

“Eh?”

He was left with a gaping sense of loss, thrown aside. Maybe it had been that moan—maybe Hiromatsu had found it off-putting. Matsuoka felt a pang of regret so sharp it almost brought tears. I shouldn't have made a sound…

“Sorry. That was… kind of pathetic.”

Hiromatsu apologized, his face red to a degree Matsuoka had never seen before—almost uncontrollably flushed.

“I meant to go about things in a more measured way, but I just totally lost my composure…”

Still blushing, he muttered, “Ah, right,” then crouched to dig into the tote bag on the floor. He pulled out a square box, about twenty centimeters on each side.

“This is a gift. It’s the most popular product from our factory.”

“Ah… thanks.”

It was a nice gesture. Matsuoka remembered him once mentioning how customers always said it was delicious. But holding a gift box of assorted bonito flakes in this context was… absurd.

The atmosphere, which had risen so high, nosedived in an instant. Still holding the package awkwardly, Matsuoka asked, “Want some coffee or something?”

He led Hiromatsu to the sofa in the living room and headed to the kitchen to make coffee. As the water boiled, Matsuoka seriously debated whether to sit across from him or beside him. Sitting beside him might feel deliberate, like he was putting on an act—but sitting across would feel cold, distant. He didn’t know what to do.

When he set the coffee on the table, Hiromatsu said “Thanks” softly. After some hesitation, Matsuoka sat down next to him, leaving a bit of space. As expected, the conversation didn’t continue. In this moment, tinged with quiet sensual tension, he had no idea what he was supposed to say. When he stole a glance to the side, he found Hiromatsu drinking his coffee with a level of seriousness Matsuoka had never seen on his face before.

It might make him sound horny or shallow, but if he were being honest—he wanted to go to bed right now. Penetrative sex would be difficult, but he wanted to be touched, to be desired.

There was no way he could say it aloud, but the truth was—he’d bought a new bed just yesterday. When Hiromatsu confirmed he’d be coming Friday, Matsuoka had first thought of getting a guest futon. The bed he had was a single—fine for one person, but cramped for two grown men. Back when he’d lived with his ex-girlfriend, they’d had an extra futon, but he’d gotten rid of it after the breakup. As he debated where to buy one, it dawned on him: if he got a guest futon, it meant they’d be sleeping separately.

The night they first had proper sex, they’d stayed together until morning, still wrapped around each other. The warmth against his back, the gentle fingers that touched him like they were rediscovering something precious—it had felt so good it almost made him cry. Afterward, he’d wanted to stay in the same bed. He wanted Hiromatsu to be somewhere he could reach whenever he felt like touching him—and he wanted to be touched, too.

But that had been at a hotel, where there was only one bed. Hiromatsu might be the kind of person who didn’t like sharing a bed afterward. Unlike Matsuoka, maybe he preferred to separate once it was over. And right now, he couldn’t exactly ask, Do you like staying together after sex, or not?

His original plan had been to prepare a futon and see how Hiromatsu handled things. If he seemed okay with staying close, then Matsuoka would think about upgrading his bed. But then a new problem had cropped up.

If he went and bought a bigger bed after they started dating, wouldn’t it look like he was just trying to send a blatant message—I want to do it more? That kind of impression would be mortifying. If that was the case, it would’ve been better to just have a big bed there from the start and pretend it was always like this.

The bedroom was spacious enough. A double bed would’ve fit just fine. But even that had felt a little too suggestive, too much. So in the end, he’d settled on a slightly wider semi-double.

“Matsuoka-san.”

His name pulled him from his thoughts. He turned around to find Hiromatsu looking at him with an earnest expression before gradually lowering his gaze. Slowly, his hand reached out and wrapped around Matsuoka’s left hand.

The heat of that touch surged through him all at once, igniting him from the inside out. This man wanted him but wouldn’t say it. It was maddening. Matsuoka couldn’t take it anymore.

“Hiromatsu-san…”

The man looked up at him.

“…If it’s okay with you… wanna go to bedroom?”

He was the one who asked. Hiromatsu’s face lit up—relieved, almost joyful—and he squeezed Matsuoka’s hand tight.

◇:-:◆:-:◇

He’d tried to act casual, but nerves must have gotten the better of him—when he sat on the bed, his knees buckled strangely, and he collapsed backward onto the mattress. Ugh, so uncool, he thought to himself, but before he could recover, Hiromatsu was leaning over him, and Matsuoka’s breath caught in surprise.

Did that clumsy fall come off as an invitation?

Before he could think further, Hiromatsu kissed him. The concern that being too forward might turn him off dissolved under the pressure of that fierce, repeated kiss.

For all the boldness of his mouth, the fingers undoing Matsuoka’s shirt buttons were trembling. That lack of practiced ease—so Hiromatsu. It was kind of endearing.

His neck was sucked hard enough to make him dizzy. That was dangerously high—if it left a mark, a shirt collar wouldn’t hide it. But now wasn’t the time to bring that up. If he said something, it might make Hiromatsu stop altogether.

“Ah—”

Matsuoka, drunk on the fervent kiss, flinched when Hiromatsu suddenly spoke. His wide, disoriented eyes looked down at him in distress.

“I forgot to take a shower…”

Matsuoka had noticed, of course. But he’d assumed that, given how urgently Hiromatsu was coming onto him, they were skipping that part this time.

“Ah, yeah… I guess so.”

There wasn’t much else he could say.

“…Should I go now?” Hiromatsu mumbled with an air of gloom.

Matsuoka was already half-hard just from kissing, and Hiromatsu—pressed against his thigh—was unmistakably showing through as well. Taking a shower now felt like it would only break the momentum. Between the kiss at the door and the scene now, Matsuoka couldn’t help but wonder if Hiromatsu was some kind of tease.

“It was really hot today. Do you wanna go ahead and shower first, Hiromatsu-san?”

He spoke with an easy tone, trying to keep it light. The man who had been leaning over him straightened up and, grabbing Matsuoka’s right hand, gave it a firm tug to pull him upright. When there was no answer about the shower, Matsuoka added, “Would it be better if I go first?”

“It’d take too long one at a time… so how about together?”

Matsuoka sucked in a breath.

Together in the bath—honestly, he wanted no part of that. If it were an open-air hot spring or something, maybe he could manage, but he’d never once showered with anyone he’d dated before. Not once.

And this was Hiromatsu—the man who, right up until the end, had insisted “I can’t, because you’re a man.” In front of him, in full light, Matsuoka would have to expose this undeniably male body. In bed, entangled under covers, things could stay a little obscured. But in the bathroom? There’d be no hiding anything.

That first time they’d done it, Matsuoka had genuinely feared that Hiromatsu wouldn’t be able to go through with it—afraid he’d lose interest the moment he was reminded that Matsuoka was a man. But contrary to those fears, Hiromatsu had touched him, entered him, and even said I love you. He knew—he knew—Hiromatsu could feel desire for him, that it wasn’t a problem.

And yet… the anxiety wouldn’t quite go away. What if this time, he really did think it was gross?

“My bathroom’s not that big,” Matsuoka said quietly.

Hiromatsu looked away, clearly disappointed. “Yeah… I guess. Two guys, it’d definitely be cramped.”

Even though his voice was resigned, he kept squeezing Matsuoka’s right hand again and again—gently, but insistently. It was obvious—he really did want to go in together. Matsuoka couldn’t ignore that. He bit down lightly on his lip.

“I mean, you might get grossed out if you saw me naked.”

He said it in a light tone, trying not to sound too serious. Hiromatsu gave him a puzzled look.

“That time before… you were beautiful.”

Heat rushed up Matsuoka’s back.

“You were really beautiful. That’s why… I want to see more.”

His lips trembled. The shame was so intense it made sweat break out across his whole body. And even so, Hiromatsu reached for his right hand again, gently lacing their fingers. Please, he seemed to be saying, let me see.

“…If you don’t mind it being cramped, then I guess it’s fine.”

“Really?”

Whatever happens, so be it, Matsuoka thought, and gave a small nod. “Yeah.”

◇:-:◆:-:◇

He’d been told he was beautiful. That Hiromatsu wanted to see more. So he’d assumed there might be some touching, some caressing—affectionate things. But he hadn’t imagined that, just because he was naked, things would escalate to something this lewd—right up to the brink of penetration.

“Ah—ah—ah…”

His voice echoed without end across the bathroom walls. Every time he moved his arms or legs, water splashed noisily from the tub, sloshing over the edge.

It was a perfectly roomy bathtub for one person—but for two men, it really was cramped. And to be tangled up like this, clinging to each other? Anyone looking in from outside would think it nothing short of ridiculous.

Even while they were washing, Hiromatsu had been suspiciously touchy. He kept hugging Matsuoka’s soapy body, running his hands over him. Matsuoka knew—if he told him to stop, Hiromatsu would stop. He was that kind of man. Sincere. And yet here he was, boldly proposing they bathe together, starting something like this in the bathroom… it was far from subtle.

And now, even as they sat together in the tub, he was touching him below the waist. When Matsuoka tried to pull his hips away, the cramped space made it impossible—he was straddling Hiromatsu, legs parted, no way to close them.

“Don’t touch… too low down,” he murmured.

“Why not?” came the question, whispered right near his ear. The hushed voice filled the steamy bathroom with a thick, sweet tension.

“Because… if you keep doing that, I’ll get hard.”

Hiromatsu gave a quiet laugh. “I’d like to see that,” he said—and then wrapped his hand around Matsuoka’s shaft.

Under the water, he stroked it again and again. It didn't take long before Matsuoka’s body responded, taking the shape Hiromatsu had asked for. He kept going, steadily, deliberately, until the rising pressure became unmistakable.

Just as the climax crept too close, Matsuoka panicked and stood up in the tub—but Hiromatsu grabbed hold of his leg.

“What’s wrong?”

“Ah… um…”

He realized that his fully erect length was right in front of Hiromatsu’s face—and panicked, covering himself with both hands. But Hiromatsu took hold of those hands and pulled them apart.

Just like a child caught in the act, Matsuoka found himself completely exposed—presenting the very part of him that Hiromatsu had aroused, now bare in front of the man’s eyes. At the tip, not just water, but a cloudy bead of something else had begun to glisten—no doubt Hiromatsu could see it.

“Are you… about to come?”

Matsuoka trembled, then gave a small nod.

“You can finish like this, if you want.”

“No way. It’ll go into the bathwater.”

“…I really wouldn’t mind.”

A large hand touched his bare backside. In the next instant, he was pulled forward—and without the slightest hesitation, Hiromatsu took Matsuoka’s wet, trembling erection into his mouth.

Matsuoka stared down at the man kneeling before him, utterly stunned. He couldn’t even make a sound. He had never imagined that Hiromatsu would be capable of doing that to such an overtly male part of his body. He hadn’t wanted him to force himself. And yet, the way Hiromatsu took him in—that place—made Matsuoka’s knees go weak from the overwhelming pleasure.

The rush of happiness that surged up alongside the sensation spread through his entire body, electrifying him. He was already close to the edge—and now, he was about to climax.

“No—Hiromatsu-san, don’t. I’m… I’m gonna…”

He pleaded, but Hiromatsu didn’t let go. On the contrary, he pulled Matsuoka’s hips closer, taking him in to the base.

“Seriously, no—please, you can’t—”

Matsuoka tried to push his head away, but it was too late. He came in that warm, wet place.

“S-sorry…”

Hiromatsu’s throat gave a small, visible swallow. Internally, Matsuoka screamed. He dropped down into the tub with a splash and, in a panic, pressed both palms against Hiromatsu’s cheeks.

“Spit it out!”

They had just barely managed to overcome the hurdle of being two men together—and now this? He didn’t want to make Hiromatsu do something that would only reinforce that reality. But while Matsuoka flailed, overwhelmed, Hiromatsu licked his upper lip with a slow flick of the tongue. He wasn’t even especially handsome, and yet there was something about him—something sensual that made Matsuoka shiver.

“You taste… kind of green,” Hiromatsu said.

The embarrassment vanished in an instant, replaced by a wave of awkward dread that made Matsuoka’s back go cold. His eyes welled up—on the verge of tears. Seeing that, Hiromatsu quickly asked, “What’s wrong?”

What’s wrong? Matsuoka wanted to shout. You just— But he couldn’t say it outright. So instead, his tears spilled over.

Hiromatsu gently pulled him in, holding him close. Matsuoka’s arms moved almost reflexively, wrapping around his neck.

“I’m sorry. If you didn’t like it, I won’t do it again.”

Hiromatsu stroked his damp hair. And in that moment, Matsuoka couldn’t help but wonder—if he could hold him like this, then maybe doing that hadn’t been so bad for him after all.

“…You don’t feel grossed out?” he asked softly.

Hiromatsu looked puzzled. “About what?”

“Doing something like that…”

“I saw online that it was one kind of foreplay,” Hiromatsu replied.

Matsuoka looked up at him, startled.

“You looked it up?”

“Last time, I didn’t really understand what I was doing. But if you didn’t like it, I won’t do it again.”

“I didn’t mind… but what about you, Hiromatsu-san? Didn’t you hate it?”

Hiromatsu’s eyes crinkled, and he let out a small laugh.

“So you did enjoy it.”

“It was kind of fun,” he admitted. “Your expressions are completely different from usual… just licking you like that turned me on.”

Matsuoka leaned in, nuzzling against Hiromatsu’s neck.

“You know… those things online, they’re just examples. Just because they’re out there doesn’t mean you have to do everything. Don’t push yourself.”

“I know. But I wanted to try it. I was curious—what you’d taste like.”

Hiromatsu said it so casually that it caught Matsuoka completely off guard. He flushed red.

“You don’t have to know stuff like that!”

“But since we’re here… might as well. If I can, I want to know everything.”

Being told I want to know you made Matsuoka happy. He wanted that, too—wanted Hiromatsu to know him, more and more. But at the same time… he couldn’t help but wonder, just how far this man’s curiosity would go—and how much more wicked he might become along the way.

◇:-:◆:-:◇

They had held each other and made love again and again, finally falling asleep sometime just before dawn. When Matsuoka awoke, it was already close to noon.

His hips ached with a dull numbness, Hiromatsu’s presence having once more been driven deep into his body. He wasn’t a girl—he wished Hiromatsu would go easier on him. But when the man had clung to him like a child, pleading, “More… more…” he couldn’t say no. Again and again, he’d yielded.

The man who had thoroughly turned his world upside down was still asleep. Matsuoka leaned in to peer at his face. Just looking at him made Matsuoka’s chest ache. It hit him all over again—I really do love this man.

Those lips, moving in soft, rhythmic breaths, had endlessly whispered “You’re cute” in his ear yesterday until it practically made them ring. Hiromatsu wasn’t good with words, didn’t have much vocabulary. Whether Matsuoka gasped, climaxed, or cried—he just kept saying “cute,” over and over, like a broken record.

Matsuoka’s lingering hesitation—because we’re both men—had been blown away by the way Hiromatsu had devoured him with hunger. His small nipples had been sucked until they felt like they’d melt. Even in bed, Hiromatsu had taken him in his mouth. Matsuoka could tell he’d been aroused too—he’d felt it, hard and urgent, pressing against his thigh as he was touched. Realizing that had made tears well in his eyes—it had made him so happy.

Lured by the sleeping man, Matsuoka leaned in and gently kissed him. But the moment his lips touched, Hiromatsu’s eyelids fluttered open with a sudden blink, startling him. Then arms came around his back, and he was pulled down onto the mattress, lying flat on his back.

Hiromatsu climbed on top of him as if it were the most natural thing in the world, gazing down from close enough to feel his breath. That look in his eyes—filled with both desire and tenderness—made Matsuoka flush.

Fingers ran through his hair, brushed softly over his cheek. The heat in Hiromatsu’s gaze was overwhelming; Matsuoka had to avert his eyes. And yet, he wanted to be kissed.

The moment that thought formed, their lips met. He was held tight, as though Hiromatsu wanted to crush him, and Matsuoka’s chest ached with how good it felt.

“Mn… nnh…”

Their tongues tangled, wet and intimate, and the kiss turned raw. Matsuoka found himself wishing his entire body could just melt into something sweet and soft. His hips throbbed with soreness, his limbs were heavy with fatigue—and still, he wanted more. He wanted to be desired.

After kissing him into a haze, Hiromatsu sat up. He gently drew Matsuoka upright as well and pulled him into his arms. Sitting hurt—his hips still throbbed with that dull ache—but he looped both arms around Hiromatsu’s back and hugged him close.

He hadn’t even realized he was hungry, but his stomach let out a loud growl. With how tightly they were pressed together, there was no way Hiromatsu hadn’t heard it. Matsuoka blushed in mortification. And of course, instead of just once, his gut rumbled again like it had no shame at all.

“Are you hungry?”

“No, not really,” he blurted out, flustered.

“But your stomach’s growling,” Hiromatsu said, and placed a hand gently over his belly—just in time for it to growl again. Not just his body, even his insides seemed to want to cling to Hiromatsu and be spoiled.

“It’s almost lunchtime anyway. I’ll go get something.”

He kissed Matsuoka on the ear, chu, chu, again and again before getting out of bed. He gathered the clothes he’d stripped off the night before and started getting dressed.

The moment Hiromatsu stopped being naked, something tightened in Matsuoka’s chest. It was ridiculous—that something so simple could make him feel so forlorn.

Now dressed, Hiromatsu sat at the edge of the bed and looked down at Matsuoka.

“Is there anything you want to eat?”

“Anything’s fine.”

Hiromatsu tilted his head.

“What do you like?”

Matsuoka hesitated. But he felt like he had to give some kind of answer, and the first thing that came to mind was, “Onigiri.”

“Alright. I’ll get you some onigiri. I’ll be back soon.”

After giving him a light kiss and ruffling his hair, Hiromatsu headed out. Once the door closed behind him, Matsuoka curled up under the sheets, pulling them over his head.

“…This is dangerous.”

Hiromatsu’s kindness was overwhelming—almost frightening in its gentleness. Matsuoka had never been this deeply doted on by anyone before, nor had he ever let himself rely on someone like this. He was happy—so happy, in fact, that it scared him. If he got used to this kind of sweetness, he was sure he’d never be able to go back. He’d never return to normal.

And yet… even if he feared the future, he couldn’t stop moving forward. He couldn’t make himself hold back.

Wrapped in the sheets, he lay still—like a hatchling waiting for its mother bird to bring food. Hiromatsu had just left, and already Matsuoka was thinking about nothing but how soon he’d return.

About fifteen minutes later, Hiromatsu came back—carrying twelve onigiri. He hadn’t known which kind Matsuoka liked, so he’d bought one of every kind they had in the store.

Seeing him hunched slightly as he said that, Matsuoka felt an overwhelming surge of love so fierce it nearly drove him mad.

They stayed inside the rest of the day, not leaving the apartment until every one of those twelve onigiri had been eaten. They lazed around on the bed, play-fighting like a pair of kittens, utterly content.

Matsuoka found himself earnestly wishing that Sunday evening—when Hiromatsu would have to leave—would never come.

Footnotes

0. Content warning: NSFW.

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