Kiss Me (Like You Wanna Be Loved)

Chapter Ten: Why Not To Kiss Your Roomate

A few days later, they're sitting on the couch together after dinner. Keiji is kind of reading a book (but not really) and Bokuto is kind of watching TV (but not really) and then Bokuto knocks his knee against Keiji's.

"Hey," he says. "Wanna make out?"

And Keiji's gut reaction is yes please but he's starting to feel anxious that they haven't really talked about what they're doing; he's starting to worry that Bokuto is going to expect more from him. So instead he says, "I don't want to date you."

"Yeah, I know," Bokuto says agreeably. "But I didn't ask if you wanted to date. I asked if you wanna make out."

Keiji considers this for a moment then closes his book and sets it down. "Alright."

"Really?"

"Yes, really. I also find it to be an enjoyable activity, and as long as we're both on the same page that it won't go any further..." he almost says I don't see why not, but that would be a lie. In his head is a very long list of reasons of Why Not To Kiss Your Roommate, but when the option is dangling out in front of him, offered freely and all he has to do is take, his physical desires prove victorious over rationality.

"Cool," Bokuto says, turning off the TV. "Then-come here?"

And Keiji moves forward, lets himself be pulled into Bokuto's lap, straddling his thighs. And then they're kissing, and just like the times before, it's so damn good.

Keiji has gotten bolder and more confident with his actions, and Bokuto's hesitance has long since disappeared. They're moving fast tonight, the kisses rough and hot and wet. Bokuto's hands are everywhere, pulling Keiji's hair, grabbing his hips, running down his thighs. Keiji feels electric, like a live-wire, sparks in his veins and fire in his blood.

Their couch is too small for this. When Keiji almost falls backwards off Bokuto's lap, Bokuto wraps his arms around Keiji's waist then in one smooth motion flips him onto his back so he's pressed into the cushions and Bokuto is kneeling between his legs, hovering above him. Keiji hooks his legs around Bokuto's hips, slotting their lips together again. Their position is still a little awkward and cramped-their couch is really too fucking small for this.

Between breathless kisses Bokuto shifts and his head smacks against the armrest. He lets out a frustrated huff. "Can we-is it okay if we move to my room?"

"Yes," Keiji says immediately, relieved that he didn't have to be the one to suggest it.

"Good."

And then Bokuto's hands are gripping Keiji's ass and he's being lifted and-oh.

Keiji is not small. He's nearly six feet tall, and while he's slim, he's not exactly light. But Bokuto picks him up so effortlessly it's like he weighs nothing at all. His breath catches in his throat and he tightens his legs around Bokuto's waist as he's carried through the living room. Keiji latches his arms around Bokuto's neck and trails hot kisses along his jaw, earning a small growl as Bokuto kicks open his bedroom door.

They fall onto the bed, Keiji on his back and Bokuto propped up above him as their lips crash together again.

It's only now that he's already here that Keiji considers the implications of being in Bokuto's bed-a much more intimate space than the couch, another line crossed. And he wants to worry about it-he definitely will later-but right now all he can think about is Bokuto, Bokuto, Bokuto. Touching him and kissing him and being pressed into a pillow that smells like him.

After a while Bokuto shifts so they're both lying on the bed, on their sides and facing each other. Their lips move together, a heady flow of biting and licking and sucking, and Keiji feels a little drunk, intoxicated with how Bokuto tastes.

Keiji doesn't realize how very hard he is until Bokuto grabs his hips and starts to pull him closer. He's about to panic, embarrassed-but then he feels Bokuto, equally hard and pressing against him, and his panic dissolves into pleasure as he tips his head back and moans.

"Fuck, you're so hot," Bokuto mumbles into his neck, and Keiji's hips jerk in response, pushing harder against Bokuto and causing him to gasp. His hands settle at Keiji's waist, fingertips slipping just under his shirt to press against the warm skin of his lower back.

Boktuo positions his thigh between Keiji's legs. "Here, you can..." he trails off, because there's really no polite way to say here is my leg for you to hump. Keiji's hips move on their own as he grinds against Bokuto, who groans at the motion and kisses him hard. The heat and weight of Bokuto's erection against his own thigh is making Keiji feel desperate and unhinged.

This is much more than just making out at this point, and Keiji is getting way too worked up.

"I have to-" Keiji starts, but he doesn't know how to finish that sentence. I have to retreat to my room to furiously masturbate? I have to go take a cold shower to calm the fuck down? I have to stop grinding against your thigh before I come in my pants?

But then Bokuto is kissing him again and he forgets he even started a sentence. He thinks he's probably close to forgetting all human language. Keiji ruts against him, letting out a frustrated huff because it's not enough.

"I can help?" Bokuto says in a low whisper.

And Keiji doesn't even process the question he just says, "Okay."

Which is why he startles when Bokuto reaches between them and slides his hand down Keiji's length. He gasps and jerks back at the sudden touch.

Bokuto instantly moves away. "Sorry, if you don't want-"

"I want," Keiji says quickly, and he really really does. He's aching with how much he wants this. He curls his fingers in Bokuto's hair and pulls him close again to murmur against his lips. "Touch me."

This time when Bokuto palms him through his pants, he presses into it, delighting in the friction.

"More," Keiji hears himself say; a whimper, a plea. He's never before felt so needy.

And then Bokuto is unbuttoning Keiji's pants and slipping a hand inside and touching him like no one else has ever touched him before.

"Oh, god," Keiji groans, thrusting into his fist, already on the edge of orgasm. Bokuto is stroking him and kissing his neck and the pleasure is almost overwhelming in its intensity. And then Keiji is coming with a muffled moan as he bites into Bokuto's shoulder. He can feel a bit of warmth splatter his stomach but most of it ends up in Bokuto's hand.

As the waves of pleasure fade and Keiji catches his breath, Bokuto kisses him on the mouth again, softer and slower than the kisses before. Then he breaks away, murmuring, "I'm gonna go grab a towel. I'll be right back."

Bokuto climbs off him and leaves the room, and the haze of arousal starts to dissipate. As soon as Keiji can think clearly again, he's struck with the horrifying realization of what exactly just happened. Shame slams into him like a freight train; he feels suddenly vulnerable and exposed and terrified.

In an instant he's bolting up from Bokuto's bed and running to his own room, closing the door and leaning back against it. There's a cooling wet spot on his boxer briefs and his heart is rattling in his chest as his breath comes in shallow gasps.

A few seconds later he hears Bokuto in the hallway, calling out, "Akaashi?"

Keiji closes his eyes and silently pleads, Don't follow, don't push, please don't make me face you right now.

After another moment he hears footsteps retreating and Bokuto's own bedroom door clicking shut.

Keiji lets out a long sigh, feeling mostly relieved, and maybe a little disappointed, but above all is the crushing weight of embarrassment.

Fuck.