The Moon’s Ship That Crosses The Night: Chapter 28

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Matsushita had insisted that he needed to talk about something, so on the way home from work, Kawase stopped by an izakaya. Now that October had begun, the nights had turned noticeably cooler, and when he stepped outside, the wind felt cold against his skin.

“I don’t want to stay out too late,” he’d said.

“Got plans or something?” Matsushita had asked.

There was someone waiting for him at home, but he couldn’t bring himself to say it.

At the table of a cheap izakaya known for its all-you-can-drink set, they ordered food and clinked their draft beers together. The moment their glasses met, Matsushita dramatically spread out something in front of him—a seating chart for a wedding hall. A week after proposing, Matsushita’s girlfriend had found out she was pregnant. Both families had been thrilled, but since they’d suggested an early wedding, the preparations were in a frantic rush.

“I don’t really get this kind of stuff. Think you could help me out?”

It was true that Kawase had once held a wedding of his own, but it had fallen apart in less than a year. That Matsushita would turn to a guy like him for advice—honestly, what nerve. Before worrying about seating arrangements, the idiot should first learn how to consider other people’s feelings.

Kawase would have loved to give him a lecture on that, but he didn’t want to stay any longer than necessary, so he offered him some half-hearted advice instead. Apparently, Matsushita’s fiancée had been practically living in his apartment ever since the engagement, and they were already in a pre-marriage honeymoon phase.

“In the morning, she wakes me up all sweet, like, ‘Come on, get up~.’ Then we kiss a little, you know? And when I head to the kitchen, there’s breakfast waiting for me. And before I leave for work, we kiss again...”

Kawase, barely listening, flagged down a passing server and ordered another beer. Matsushita had offered to pay, but all-you-can-drink still felt miserably cheap, and if he had to sit through this endless lovesick rambling, he needed to drink just to get through it.

“But hey, you got yourself a girlfriend too, didn’t you?”

The question caught him off guard. His reaction must have been written all over his face, because Matsushita nodded knowingly.

“Thought so.”

“It’s not—”

“No need to hide it just ’cause you’re divorced, man.”

Everything the guy said rubbed him the wrong way.

“Drop the ‘divorced’ part. And why the hell are you acting like it’s a fact that I have a girlfriend?”

“Well, when you’re walking around with a giant hickey like that, it’s kinda obvious.”

Kawase frowned.

“Bullshit.”

It wasn’t like he’d been careless. The biting, the sucking, the scratching—it had happened more than once, and he always made sure to cover it up before heading out in the morning. Today had been no different.

Matsushita just grinned.

“But, see, this time it’s on the back of your neck. And it’s a real passionate one.”

Kawase’s hand instinctively shot up to his nape. Realizing what he’d just done, he quickly withdrew it—but it was too late. Matsushita burst out laughing.

Heat surged to his face.

“So? What’s she like? Introduce me sometime.”

“Hell no.”

Like he could ever admit to this—to sleeping with a gray-haired man in his forties, night after night.

Feeling unbearably awkward, Kawase drained the rest of his beer in one go and ordered another. Even he didn’t fully understand why he was having sex with that man so often. No—he understood just fine. That man always seduced him. And Kawase let himself be tempted, let himself get aroused, let himself want.

Matsushita’s phone rang. From the way he answered, his voice sickeningly sweet, it had to be his fiancée.

“Sorry, gotta take this.” He stepped away from the table.

Kawase grabbed his fresh beer and downed half of it in one breath. That man was too damn seductive. Or maybe it was just Kawase who saw him that way. There was no one else to compare it to, no one else to confirm whether what he felt was normal.

“Sorry about that~.” Matsushita returned, looking completely unbothered.

“She said she gets lonely being home alone. Isn’t that adorable?”

Kawase was too exasperated to even respond. He stood. “I’m heading home.”

Even after all that drinking, the night air still felt cold. Maybe it was time to start wearing a jacket.

Looking up at the sky, he spotted the moon. He wondered if that man also felt lonely when left alone in that room. Until now, he had never once considered what it must be like for him to spend his days there by himself.

On the long walk to the station, the silence stretched. To pass the time, Kawase found himself asking, almost absentmindedly—

“You and your fiancée. Do you guys kiss that much all the time?”

"We do. A good morning, a welcome home—just, you know, the usual moments," Matsushita said.

Kawase frowned at the idea of those being “usual moments.”

"What about coming home to her waiting naked?"

"What kind of question is that?"

"I'm asking if you've ever come home to find your girlfriend waiting for you, completely naked."

"Whoa, that's pervy." Matsushita narrowed his eyes. "You mean like… wearing just an apron?"

"No. Completely naked."

Matsushita let out a weird little whistle of a laugh. "I mean, that’s a hot thought, but you're joking, right?" And yet, his tone was oddly serious.

“You see stuff like that in manga, where they’re in just their underwear, but if that happened in real life, it’d be kinda freaky, wouldn’t it?”

Kawase let out a dry chuckle and nodded. "Yeah, true."

They boarded the same train, but Matsushita got off first. Kawase rode two more stations before stepping out.

As usual, he drifted into the convenience store along his way home, as if drawn by habit. He grabbed a bento and some tea and headed for the register, but then he remembered he was out of toothpaste and turned back to the household goods aisle. The brand he usually bought was missing, and as he hesitated over which one to get, his eyes landed on a box of hair dye on the lowest shelf. Looking closer, he noticed white hair dye as well. There was a time when he'd played around with different hair colors, but now, he hardly put any effort into his appearance.

He picked up a box of dye and a tube of mint toothpaste. Nearby, there were also condoms. He was running low. Peeking toward the register, he saw that the cashier wasn’t the same young guy from before. He grabbed a box and added it to his items.

This was his usual convenience store, one he visited almost every day. Last week alone, he'd bought condoms twice. Both times, the cashier had been the same young guy, and both times, his hand had hesitated for just a fraction of a second before he glanced up at Kawase. The sheer embarrassment of that moment had been unbearable—like the guy was silently judging him for being so damn horny lately.

When he reached his apartment, he unlocked the outer door, then the inner one. Darkness greeted him as he stepped inside. He shut the door and flicked on the hallway light. The sound must have reached him, because the man came padding over.

The first time Kawase had seen that sight, he’d been genuinely startled. But things repeated often enough become routine. Humans have a way of adapting.

The man stood in the hallway, a shadowy figure. His graying hair caught the light, his near-fifty-year-old body fully exposed. There was something surreal about it—nothing worth admiring, nothing that stirred any kind of aesthetic appreciation. If anything, it was just... awkward.

As Kawase kicked off his shoes, the man pressed up against him, warm and solid. And then—

…he was grinding against him.

"At least wait until after you eat."

Kawase grabbed the man's arms, peeled him off, and dropped him onto the couch. "I already ate. This is just for you. Getting kinda sick of the same old bento every night, but this one’s got veggies, so it’s probably the best choice."

Even as he tried to hand it over, the man clung to him, refusing to let go. He was heavy, and before Kawase knew it, he had climbed into his lap, straddling him face-to-face.

"Just eat first."

But the man only pressed closer, rubbing against him, clinging like a needy child. The moment Kawase gave in and kissed him, he took the opportunity to undo his belt and slip a hand into his underwear.

"Wait until after you—ah…"

He was already teasing him, coaxing him toward a state where waiting was no longer an option.

And of course, he was still naked. When Kawase glanced downward, he could see the man's nipples—pale, slightly swollen from the previous night's attention—already stiff.

Sighing, Kawase reached for the table, rummaging through the convenience store bag until he found the box of condoms. He tore open the plastic wrapping and slipped one over the man's length. He never put them on himself, so Kawase always had to do it. If he didn't, the guy would end up making a mess anywhere and everywhere like an untrained dog, and cleanup later would be a pain.

Once the man was ready, Kawase pushed down his own pants and underwear. The man was already rolling his hips impatiently, desperate to be filled. Kawase steadied him, took a moment to put on his own, and finally guided him down.

The entrance was soft. Had he already prepped himself while waiting?

The thought of him sitting here alone, touching himself in anticipation, sent an unexpected jolt of heat through Kawase’s gut.

“Mm… mm… ngh…”

Above him, the man panted. With everything buried inside, his scrotum rested against Kawase’s lower stomach, and his aroused cock prodded at his navel.

Even if Kawase didn’t move, the man, kneeling on the sofa, greedily rolled his hips, grinding and rocking as he pleased. He never touched himself, which meant he took longer to finish. If left alone, he would keep going forever. Kawase grabbed the man’s balls, pressing his fingers firmly into the soft flesh.

“Aah… ah… ahhn…!”

The man’s knees, spread wide over Kawase’s thighs, started to tremble.

Being played with while still inside seemed to drive him crazy. When Kawase took hold of his erection as well, his moans grew even louder.

“Ahh… ahhn… ahh… ahh…!”

“Keep it down a little.”

But the man had no intention of holding back. His voice didn’t drop in the slightest. Left with no choice, Kawase pulled him in and kissed him.

Kissing him, thrusting into him, stroking him—like that, the man reached his peak. The tight heat around Kawase clamped down so hard it hurt, dragging him over the edge at the same time.

As the tension drained from the man’s body, he slumped against Kawase, spent and boneless.

A week had passed since that rainy night when Kawase had stopped him from leaving. Since then, they’d been having sex almost every day. Unlike dating a girl, there were no structured steps—no meals together, no baths before bed, no natural lead-ins. The man simply pushed his groin against him whenever he wanted it, like a dog in heat.

Faced with that kind of desperation, it was too easy to give in. Thoughts like we’re both men or isn’t this kind of dangerous? had dulled with repetition. No one knew. And if no one knew, no one could tell them they were doing something wrong.

Once he’d had his fill of Kawase, the man finally took a break, and for the first time that night, he seemed interested in eating. But after barely finishing a third of his meal, he set his chopsticks down. With a sigh, Kawase picked up the bento and started feeding him by hand.

The man didn’t seem too enthusiastic, but he also didn’t entirely dislike it. Whenever Kawase nudged a bite toward his mouth with the chopsticks, he opened up like a baby bird, waiting to be fed.

He chewed, swallowed, then parted his lips again, ready for more. His red tongue flickered between them, glimpses of it peeking out. Watching the slow, deliberate movements of his mouth, Kawase suddenly felt a wave of embarrassment so sharp it sent cold sweat trickling down his back.

The way his lips moved, the way his tongue teased—he looked exactly like he did when he was sucking Kawase off.

Had he always eaten with this kind of obscenely pornographic expression? With a face like that, could he even eat out in public without causing a scene? The thought was so absurd it made Kawase worry in the strangest way.

After eating about two-thirds, the man finally stopped opening his mouth.

“All done?” Kawase asked. The man gave a small nod, then took Kawase’s now-idle right hand and slowly guided it downward.

He wasn’t even hard, but in the tangle of his pubic hair, his cock still pulsed with a steady, eager rhythm.

"You were getting off while eating?"

Kawase spoke with certainty. As if to confirm, the man rubbed himself against Kawase’s hand.

Looking at him, no one would have guessed, but the man had an absurdly high sex drive. Even at his age, he got horny like a teenager every night. Maybe this was what they called a nymphomaniac. And yet, Kawase didn’t dislike him for constantly initiating these lewd encounters. There was no pretense, no deception—just an utterly straightforward person.

Teased and provoked, Kawase only found peace when the man was asleep. As long as his eyes were open, he was like a needy dog or cat, always demanding attention.

After going at it twice on the sofa, the man seemed somewhat satisfied and climbed into bed, dozing off almost immediately. Once Kawase was sure he was asleep, he slipped out of bed and turned on the light. The man’s habit of sleeping naked had rubbed off on him; lately, he hadn’t bothered wearing clothes in bed either. Not like it mattered—he’d just get stripped down whenever the man felt like it anyway.

Stepping out of bed in the nude had started to feel a little chilly these past few days. He found himself wanting one of those gowns he’d seen in Western movies. He’d always thought Japanese people didn’t wear things like that, but now, it made perfect sense.

He pulled his laptop from the shelf, set it on the floor, and powered it up. Just as he finished checking his email, he heard a soft rustling of fabric. His fingers stilled on the keyboard.

The man had propped himself up halfway, groping around the bed. When he didn’t find what he was looking for, he slowly got up. His hands stretched forward as he blindly walked out of the bedroom and into the living room. He felt around the sofa, then returned to bed, curling into a small ball. His thin shoulders practically radiated sulkiness. He hadn’t been able to find Kawase. He was lonely. And now, he was pouting about it.

Kawase unplugged the laptop and brought it to bed. The moment he climbed in, the man pressed against him, clinging as if to make up for lost time. Like a dog, he nuzzled his nose against Kawase’s neck, silently saying I was waiting. I missed you.

"I’m just checking a few sites, so quit bothering me."

Even when Kawase spoke coldly, the man didn’t let up. Before long, he started reaching for the keyboard. Clearly, he was serious about getting in the way. Kawase sighed, abandoned his browsing, shut down the laptop, and shoved it under the bed. Leaving it on the table meant the man might knock it over, and placing it on the floor risked him stepping on it.

Satisfied after successfully driving out the "intruder," the man finally settled down, still glued to Kawase’s side. Maybe he was going to sleep.

But Kawase, having been interrupted, wasn’t in the mood to let things end there.

He traced a finger along the man’s side. His eyes fluttered open. Kawase did it again, and with a small sigh, the man rolled over and climbed on top of him, pressing their lips together. His kisses always felt like he was trying to talk.

Kawase slowly ran his hand down the man’s lean, bony waist, stroking the gentle slope of his hips. A soft, breathy moan escaped right beside his ear.

The wild, delirious cries he made during sex weren’t bad, but the way he moaned in that low, honeyed voice was what really did it for Kawase.

Reaching for the side table, Kawase grabbed a condom and slid it onto his finger before pressing into the valley between the man’s legs.

“Ahh…”

Inside, it was hot, quivering with slow, eager movements. At first, he stirred gently, then gradually, more roughly, until the man’s breathless moans became unstoppable. When Kawase drove his fingers deep before pulling out, the man let out a cry like a cat in heat and spilled himself atop Kawase, body trembling.

The sudden splash of warmth on his stomach snapped Kawase out of the haze of lust. Playing with the man's ass for his own pleasure—this wasn’t normal. A week ago, he would have recoiled, called it perverse without hesitation. But now, standing in that place himself, it felt unexpectedly natural, as if he'd belonged here all along.

As he ran his fingers through the man’s silver-streaked hair, he thought about him—this man who clung to him, who sought comfort in sex, who demanded affection so openly. Maybe, in some way, Kawase was doing something cruel. He had grown used to being with another man, to having sex like lovers, but there was no love.

He suddenly remembered what the man had once told him—that he had spent decades sleeping beside his mother. A relationship not of love, but of mutual use, bodies consuming each other without meaning. Just like them now. …No, that wasn’t quite right. In the end, the man had wanted to stay with his mother until the very last moment. Did that mean there had been love, after all?

The more he thought, the less he understood. But even if he couldn't grasp the answer, the warmth of the man’s body pressed against his was unmistakable.

"If I weren’t here… would you be lonely?"

The man exhaled warmly against his shoulder.

"Do you love me?"

Perhaps embarrassed, the man gave a small nod. It was endearing.

The man reached for Kawase’s right hand, rubbing their fingertips together before entwining his own fingers between them, gripping tightly—too tightly, almost unnervingly so.

"What? What’s wrong?"

The man didn’t answer. Ever since Kawase had told him only to make noise when he was feeling it, he had stopped speaking altogether, merely clinging, moaning, pleading without words.

"You can talk, you know. Just tell me."

With a voice so faint it was almost lost, the man whispered, "I like your right hand the most."

He lifted their interlocked fingers to his face and pressed a long, lingering kiss to the back of Kawase’s hand.

"Why my right hand?"

The man only smiled before taking Kawase’s fingers into his mouth, sucking them one by one with slow, deliberate licks.

The act seemed to excite him; before long, he was grinding his arousal against Kawase’s stomach, hips trembling with need. His body shuddered with urgency, and the heat between them grew unbearable. Kawase couldn’t even reach for a condom—his right hand was still trapped in the man’s grip. Overwhelmed by the moment, he simply pushed the man down.

"Ah… ah… ahh… hnn… ah…"

Even as he bit down softly on Kawase’s fingers, the man came, body writhing in pleasure, dragging Kawase along with him into the depths of release.

As Kawase pulled out, the proof of their act dribbled out from the man’s spent body. He squirmed, knees rubbing together as if embarrassed by the sensation. Kawase deliberately spread his legs apart and wiped him down, but even that small touch made the man whimper and twitch.

Even after it was over, they remained tangled together, exchanging idle kisses whenever the mood struck.

…To anyone else, it must have looked utterly grotesque. Even Kawase had no desire to see their reflection in a mirror.

But when the man whimpered for attention, when he ached for touch, when he surrendered so honestly to pleasure— gray-haired, nearing fifty as he was—he was still unbearably cute.

The man was insatiable, but Kawase preferred this kind of intensity over anything cold and indifferent. Vulgarity could be off-putting, but he would rather be told I want you than see someone hesitate in feigned modesty. That kind of raw need made him feel truly desired.

The man suddenly reached up, fingertips brushing lightly over Kawase’s face, tracing his features with gentle, insistent touches.

On a whim, Kawase pursed his lips and feigned irritation. The fingers halted, and the man’s expression twisted with unease. As Kawase moved his lips in a mock smile, the man mirrored him, a small smile forming in response. Like a reflection in a mirror.

But when Kawase genuinely laughed, the man’s face wavered, confusion flickering in his gaze. It was both pitiful and unbearably sweet.

“…Hey, kiss me.”

When Kawase murmured the request in a spoiled tone, the man’s face brightened with delight. With a look of pure happiness, he pressed their lips together, soft and gentle, before parting them slightly, slipping his tongue forward, hesitant yet eager.

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