Living with Haru takes some getting used to, to say the least.
Reiichi’s days usually consisted of the same few activities; get drunk and high, fuck strangers, sleep, and then eat as much as his stomach could handle, which was never much. Rinse and repeat. The only exceptions were days when he was summoned by his family, in which the opportunity to stir up shit and irritate his perfect siblings was a welcome change.
Haru, with his gruff voice, broad shoulders, and general overwhelming demeanour, had stormed his way into Reiichi’s life and jumbled up this routine worse than a Category 5 hurricane could have.
It’s not like he doesn’t party anymore, and it’s certainly not like he doesn’t fuck anyone anymore. It’s just, whenever he comes back from whichever high end club he decided to occupy that night, Haru is there to welcome him as he stumbles into the foyer of their penthouse apartment; to change his clothes, tuck him into bed, make sure he eats more than a slice of leftover pizza. Not to mention the fact that Haru is by his side when they go clubbing together- always drawing stares, always shooting Reiichi teasing looks from across the room, always the first to volunteer himself to take tequila shots off Reiichi’s body, licking the salt off of his stomach, downing the shot, and then flicking his nipple while stealing the lime from his mouth; the way his tongue always curls around the wedge always hinting at what he’s going to do to him in the future.
And in terms of the sex- well, these days he’s mostly having sex with Haru. On every surface of the flat, almost. Haru bends him over in the kitchen, sloppily eating him out while Reiichi tries not to slam his nose into the granite counter; he’ll fuck Reiichi in the shower, pressing him against the shower wall and wrapping Reiichi’s legs around his waist, grinding constantly and incessantly against his prostate, so for the next few days each time he’s fucked he’s reminded of the humidity, the warm water spraying against him. Sometimes Haru will use toys, and leave him tied to the bed with a vibrator in his ass and a ring around his cock while he makes them breakfast- and depending on how loudly Reiichi can disturb the neighbours, the harder he’s fucked when Haru comes back- and the more gently he’s fed eggs and bacon after he inevitably climaxes so hard his vision whites out.
Lately, the sex has been getting softer. Reiichi is familiar with slaps, with bites and bruises and yanks to his hair, his limbs, his piercings- but he’s less familiar with gentle caresses, kisses to his hair, being opened up gently, fucked into slowly, his every protest being met with concern and care. And the kissing- Reiichi’s the furthest from a virgin anyone could get, but the way Haru gently kisses his lips, with no intentions of tongue, the way Haru gently strokes his bony, spread thighs during missionary, it all makes Reiichi feel electric, far more than the crack of a whip, the feeling of leather gloves, or a slap on his skin could- and Haru seems to know this, and accepts Reiichi’s head to be tucked into his neck, and carries him around the apartment until he’s coherent enough to detach his head, dry his tears and eat some of Haru’s cooking.
The sheer domesticity of Haru’s presence is also something that Reiichi was never expecting to see in this lifetime- and it’s something that now he has it, he doesn’t know how he’d go without it. Every day, Haru makes him food, and makes him eat three times a day- he does the laundry, and cleans the bathroom when it needs cleaning. And the best thing about it is the energy Reiichi can put into being the most annoying little shit possible- he clings onto Haru’s back while he slaves over the stove (and tries not to moan at the feel of his back muscles shifting against him), he deliberately puts his sexiest clothes and lingerie in the washing machine (because he knows it makes Haru jealous). And then when the day is over, and he’s not in the mood for clubbing, Haru will settle down on the couch with cheap beer and watch his cop dramas- and if Reiichi is feeling tired (definitely tired, and not insurmountably attracted to Haru reclined casually on the sofa, more often than not entirely shirtless) then he’ll say he’s cold, or that he’s sad, and if his strong Keiji-san could simply hold him while he recovers from his vulnerable mental state, then he can spend an entire evening wrapped in Haru’s warmth, reclined on the sofa surrounded by Haru’s strong arms.
Even when they argue; most often because of Reiichi’s disobedience- they both shout hurtful words. They know each other inside out, so Reiichi knows exactly what comments to make about guns to get Haru blind with rage or wide-eyed with shock- and Haru knows exactly what to say about Reiichi’s family to get Reiichi turning on his heel, running out of the apartment.
But the extent that they know each other also helps them forgive. Haru waits all night, falling asleep on the sofa with a meal on the stove to give Reiichi space, and when Reiichi comes back, in varying states of inebriation each time, he knows that a soft kiss to his neck or a wide-eyed look and a squeeze to the wrist means I’m sorry- I can’t say sorry, but I am. And Reiichi eats the food that he can, and sleeps as much as he can, and apologies are said in the morning, over rice, natto, and strong coffee.
Harus presence is one that’s taken more of a toll in Reiichi’s life than a natural disaster- but it's one, that despite his flightiness, and his capricious nature, he wouldn’t give up for the world.
