Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Tomioka Giyuu had been staring at his phone screen for the past half hour, his thumb hovering over the call button.

He would’ve disregarded it completely—deleted it and moved on—if Kochou hadn’t been the one to recommend it.

She’d been complaining to anyone with ears about how depressing it had become since Giyuu became her seatmate. When he got promoted to Chief Data Analyst, it was inevitable that he’d be seated alongside other leadership members. It was just his bad luck that he ended up beside the one person who couldn’t seem to leave him alone.

They hadn’t always gotten along, but both respected each other’s work. Giyuu efficiently supplied Kochou with the data she needed, allowing her to design the best products for their customers.

Before they knew it, silent companionship turned into an unexpected friendship. Kochou didn’t mind talking to a wall most of the time. In fact, Giyuu suspected she preferred it. She would rant about anything under the sun, while he sat there mumbling responses, sipping coffee, and crunching numbers.

She wouldn’t admit she cared about Giyuu as a friend—not until she asked about his plans for the long weekend.

“What do you mean you’ll work?” Kochou asked incredulously.

“I had nothing planned,” Giyuu shrugged. “It’s a good time to get ahead on our new project.”

Her right eye twitched. “I didn’t peg you as a masochist, Tomioka-san. Then again, I’m not surprised.”

“I’m not a masochist,” Giyuu replied, sipping his coffee. He flinched as it scalded his tongue, but kept drinking anyway. Kochou scoffed.

“When’s the last time you took a proper vacation? I’ve never seen you file for leave or even call in sick since you started here. And that was two years ago,” she emphasized.

Giyuu’s long fingers flew over his keyboard as he drafted insights for their weekly board meeting. “I don’t feel the need to.”

Kochou leaned over his shoulder to read the slides. Satisfied, she plopped back in her chair and started browsing her phone.

“That’s tragic,” she muttered. “Your looks are wasted on spreadsheets. You need to get out more.” She then gave a pointed look at his pale skin, “And get some sun while you’re at it. You look awful.”

Giyuu paused mid-keystroke, eyes flicking toward her. “So which is it?”

Kochou didn’t look up, but the corner of her mouth twitched. “Both,” she said breezily. “You're aesthetically pleasing in a brooding sort of way. Very tortured poet energy. But the ghost complexion? Not helping.”

Giyuu sighed and returned to his typing. “Your concern is noted.”

She tapped rapidly on her phone, then turned the screen toward him with a triumphant glint in her eye. It showed a webpage for a discreet companionship service—emotionally supportive, conversation-based, high-rated.

“This,” she said, tapping the name. “This is what you need.”

Giyuu blinked at the glowing logo: Wisteria Line – Real conversations. Real connection.

He gave her a blank look, “That’s a phone service.”

Kochou rolled her eyes. The man was a chief-level executive at one of the biggest companies in the world before hitting thirty. But when it came to anything that wasn’t numbers, he could be surprisingly dense.

“It’s not just a phone service,” she said, rolling her chair closer. “It’s a curated platform. You tell them what you want—someone warm, comforting, maybe even flirty. They match you with your best fit and keep you company. Emotional, sexual, platonic—it’s your call.”

“I don’t need that.”

Kochou laughed—loudly. A few coworkers turned their heads as she tried to stifle it. “Please. You’re the most emotionally constipated person I’ve ever met! You interact with Excel formulas more than you do with actual people.”

She tapped a few times on her phone. A second later, Giyuu’s phone pinged with a notification: an invite to install Wisteria Line.

“Since you’ve got nothing planned, take a chance,” she said, grabbing his phone. Before he could stop her, she held it up to his face, unlocked it with Face ID, and started downloading the app. She even linked his Google email to create an account, as if she hadn’t just violated three different data privacy laws.

“Whoever ends up on the other line will be better company than your bar graphs and pivot tables.”

Giyuu snatched his phone back—but didn’t delete the app.

Curiosity had already gotten the better of him.

“How can you be so sure?”

Kochou gave him that annoying, smug smile of hers. “Trust me. I wouldn’t give it five stars if it didn’t work.”

As the company’s Head of Product Development, Giyuu trusted Kochou’s judgment when it came to tech service platforms like this. Her high praise only served to pique his curiosity further.

And now, here he was.

Giyuu sat alone in his apartment, the dim lamp casting a soft glow while his phone screen lit up his face. Half-empty Chinese takeout sat on the low coffee table, and his laptop was haphazardly placed in the corner. The muted sounds of the city drifted in through the floor-to-ceiling windows across from where he sat.

It was a quiet night.

It had been the same kind of night for the past few years.

And with the temptation of company right in front of him, he finally acknowledged a sad truth: he was lonely.

Despite what people said about him, he was capable of human emotion. It just took him a little longer to process it.

Getting relocated from Osaka to their New York headquarters for a promotion had been a privilege. It was rare for someone his age to be in the position he held now. He was grateful.

But it also made him homesick.

He missed his sister, his nephew, and his best friends—Sabito and Makomo. He missed weekend kendo training at Urokodaki-sensei’s dojo. He missed home.

Being a Japan-based company meant there were still many Japanese employees at HQ. That helped ease the transition.

However, outside of work, he found it difficult to interact with Americans. He was fluent enough to understand them—but not enough to truly connect.

Which is why it had also been a long time since he dated anyone. A very long time.

He wondered if he could request a Japanese speaker in the app...

His thumb had already pressed “Call” before he could stop himself.

The line rang loudly in his apartment, matching the rhythm of his fast-beating heart.

Once.

Twice.

He wiped a sweaty palm on his sweatpants just as he heard a faint click.

“Hello, thank you for calling Wisteria Line. Is this your first time calling?” asked a female voice with an American accent.

Giyuu cleared his throat and responded in English, “Hi. Uh, yes.”

“Welcome. I’ll be asking you a few questions so we can find your best match for tonight.”

“Sure.”

“Do you prefer something emotional? Sexual?”

Right off the bat, Giyuu was caught off guard.

The operator repeated, “Hello?” when he didn’t answer right away.

He took a deep breath and decided to be honest.

“…Can it be both?”

“Of course. Do you prefer a man or a woman?”

No use hiding in the closet from a total stranger.

“A man.”

“It says on your profile that you're more comfortable speaking Japanese. Would you like to be matched with a native speaker?”

“Yes,” he answered, the relief obvious in his voice.

“Got it. I have a match for you. If at any point you'd like to end the call, just press the ‘End’ button. We hope you have a wonderful time, sir, and thank you for calling.”

There was a pause as the line clicked and shifted, a soft chime signaling the transfer. Then another brief ring. 

Once. 

Twice.

“Hi, there!” The energetic tone startled Giyuu.

“How’s your night going?” The voice on the other end was warm and inviting—not as performative as the female operator. 

“Not much. I just finished working,” Giyuu responded a bit nervously.

“Isn’t it a holiday tomorrow? You should be resting!”

He remembered his earlier conversation with Kochou and chuckled. “I already am.”

The voice hummed, a soothing sound that seemed to vibrate through the line. “You still sound tired, though. Is your work stressful?”

Giyuu relaxed a little, elbows resting on his knees, “I’m always tired, but I’m used to it.”

“That’s not normal, you know.” He could imagine the stranger pouting.

“It’s normal for me.”

The voice huffed. “Then let’s make tonight a little less normal.”

Giyuu pressed the phone closer to his ear. “What do you have in mind?”

“To distract you enough not to think about work.” A melodious giggle followed. It was an enchanting sound.

Giyuu grabbed his wireless earphones, plugged them in, and leaned back into his couch. His neck finally relaxed, head tilting slightly as he stared up at the ceiling.

“All right,” he said, intrigued. “I’m listening.”

“So,” the voice dropped just a note lower, “What does a hard-working man like you need tonight?”

Giyuu exhaled slowly through his nose.

“I don’t know,” he replied. “That’s the problem.”

“Hmm… I think you do,” the voice replied, clearly amused. “But you’re used to pretending you don’t.”

That earned a small, throaty hum from Giyuu—neither in agreement nor denial.

“You don’t have to hold back with me,” the voice continued, smooth and intimate. “We’ve just met, but I already know one thing about you.”

“What’s that?”

There was a soft rustle of sheets from the other end. “You crave softness. Even if you won’t ask for it.”

Giyuu’s lips parted slightly. He blinked, as if someone had just told him the Earth was round. It didn’t sound true—until he heard it and realized it was.

“Go on,” he urged.

“Mmh,” the voice sounded pleased. “I can picture it. You’ve got that quiet strength. Always calm, always composed. But you’ve been carrying so much tension… so much burden, haven’t you? No one touches you. Not really. Not where it counts.”

Giyuu’s fingers curled slightly against his knee.

“And what would you do if you were here?” he asked, his own voice a tad rougher now.

The voice chuckled—low, sweet, knowing.

“What are you doing right now?”

“Sitting on my couch, talking to you.”

“If I were there, I’d sit beside you. Close enough to run my fingers through your hair.”

Giyuu’s fingers combed through his messy locks at the suggestion—slow and uncertain—and he found himself relaxing under his own touch as he listened to the tender voice.

“I’d smooth out the tiny knots and let my nails brush your scalp. I’d do it slowly, repeatedly, until your eyes flutter shut.”

A soft breath escaped Giyuu. He didn’t respond, but he didn’t need to. The silence on his end was no longer cold—it was charged.

“I’d keep talking to you,” the voice continued breathily. “And I’d move closer, lips on your ear, telling you how good you did today.”

Giyuu resisted a groan, his hand on his knee flexing. He imagined holding this sultry stranger’s waist, keeping him near, as he whispered sweet nothings.

“Would you like that?” the voice crooned. “Would you like me to tell you how good you are?”

“Yes.” Giyuu didn’t even hesitate.

“You’ve done well. So good…” The voice trailed off, as if asking a question, requesting permission.

“Giyuu.”

A deep inhale.

“Giyuu.”

Hearing his name in that stranger’s voice was an experience—nearly euphoric. He released a groan, rumbling deep in his chest.

“Such a handsome voice you have, Giyuu. You’re just so good, aren’t you?”

Goddamn it, he was getting hard. He spread his legs, giving space to his growing bulge.

“You’re too good at this,” Giyuu murmured huskily.

A breathy laugh filled his senses. “I’m just good at reading people. And you, Giyuu… you’ve been needing to be heard for a long time, haven’t you? To be comforted.”

There was a beat of quiet where Giyuu could’ve denied it—would've denied it. But he didn’t.

“Maybe,” he said, breath hitching slightly.

“I’m here. I’ll take care of you if you’ll let me.”

The air in Giyuu’s apartment felt a degree warmer. 

“What’s your name?” 

A pause, “You can call me however you want.”

“I want to know your name.”

“Bossy,” the voice giggled. “It’s Tanjirou.”

The name settled in Giyuu’s chest. It suited the voice. But it wasn’t enough—not with the way his body was throbbing, not with the way his breaths had deepened, thick with want.

“What do you look like?” he asked, voice rough.

Tanjirou chuckled gently, as if amused by the directness. “Are you going to imagine me while I talk to you?”

“Please,” Giyuu said, eyes fluttering shut. It wasn’t desperation—it was curiosity sharpened into hunger.

Tanjirou hummed thoughtfully, “Hmm… Well, I’m not model-beautiful, if that’s what you’re expecting.”

Giyuu’s brow lifted slightly, skeptical. “I’d be the judge of that.”

Tanjirou laughed, soft and breathy. “I’m not perfect. Just… real. I have a birthmark on the left side of my forehead. My face still hasn’t lost much of its baby fat, but I think I have a sharp enough jaw. My skin always looks sun-kissed, no matter the season. Oh, and people say my eyes are like the color of wine!”

Giyuu closed his eyes, listening to every detail as if memorizing code or numbers. His hand, resting lightly on his stomach, moved gently with each slow breath. He was still half-hard, but tempered by the shift to casual conversation.

“And your hair?” he murmured.

“Short. Same color as my eyes. Usually damp from showering late like this. It curls a little when it dries. It’s a mess in the morning, but I guess… I don’t mind when someone touches it.”

“I’d touch it,” Giyuu said without thinking.

Tanjirou’s voice dropped into something hushed. “I’d let you.”

The silence that followed wasn’t awkward—it felt comfortable. It was the longest he’d conversed with anyone outside work. Hell, even at work. Giyuu didn’t know how long he had been talking with Tanjirou, but he hoped he could keep him a while longer.

Tanjirou broke the quiet, gently. “Tell me what you look like.”

Giyuu hesitated. As a man of few words, describing himself felt daunting.

“I’m… tall. Lean. But I have some muscle,” he added pathetically.

Tanjirou didn’t laugh, encouraging him to be honest. “Go on.”

“I have dark hair. I like keeping it long, past my shoulders. I tie it low, but it still looks… spiky.” Giyuu crinkled his nose. It’s like he was describing a porcupine.

“Spiky, okay. Nothing a bit of conditioner wouldn’t fix,” Tanjirou chuckled.

Giyuu sighed. “Believe me, I tried.”

Another hum. “What else?”

“I have pale skin. My workmates often tell me I look like a ghost.”

Delightful laughter reached his ears. “That’s so mean! I’m sure you just need some sun, Giyuu.”

He couldn’t help it—a smile bloomed across his face.

“If you could go anywhere this weekend, where would you be?”

Giyuu didn’t have to think long. “I’d go back home—to Osaka. Wander the streets like a tourist, visit Lake Biwa definitely, and just… lose myself for a bit.”

Tanjirou’s soft sigh sounded loud in the silent room, and so divine. “I wouldn’t mind going back home myself. But being in America showed me how big the world is. It has its charms.”

The temptation to ask his location hovered at the tip of his tongue. But maybe some questions should be left unspoken for now. Talking to Tanjirou had already gone beyond his expectations.

A yawn escaped his mouth before he could stop it.

“Oh?” Tanjirou’s voice dropped into a tender whisper. “Getting sleepy on me already?”

Giyuu covered his mouth belatedly, face heating. “Didn’t mean to.”

“It’s alright,” Tanjirou said, laughing softly. “I take it as a compliment. Means I did my job.”

Giyuu’s eyes grew heavier now, the comfort of the dark room and Tanjirou’s presence turning his apartment into something softer than usual.

“I haven’t felt this relaxed in a while,” he admitted quietly, voice rasping with fatigue.

“I’m glad,” Tanjirou murmured. “You deserve nights like this. Ones where nothing is expected of you. Rest.”

That struck something deep in Giyuu. He didn’t speak. He just breathed—slow, steady. Tonight had become something more than he ever expected.

He didn’t want it to end. Not yet.

“You want me to stay a little longer?” Tanjirou offered gently when Giyuu remained on the line.

“Yes,” Giyuu whispered. “If that’s okay with you.”

“Then I’ll stay.”

A beat of silence, but it didn’t feel empty—just shared. Tanjirou’s voice continued, a soft hum in the quiet.

“Close your eyes. Think about Lake Biwa. The quiet ripple of the water… the way the breeze touches your face. I’ll talk. You just listen.”

And so he did.

Tanjirou’s voice faded into the background like a lullaby, speaking in slow tones about summers in the countryside, fireworks festivals, and the smell of yakisoba at stalls. Giyuu’s breathing deepened, mouth slightly open now, chest rising and falling rhythmically.

“Are you still with me?” Tanjirou asked softly, already knowing the answer.

There was no reply. Just the peaceful quiet of someone no longer holding tension in their body.

A faint smile touched Tanjirou’s lips on the other end of the line. “Good night, Giyuu.”

He stayed on the call. Just a little longer. Listening to Giyuu breathe.

Morning light crept through the glass windows, soft and golden. Giyuu woke later than usual, feeling reinvigorated—as if he could run twenty-one kilometers with no breaks.

Memories of his late-night conversation slowly sprang to mind. He quickly sat up, frantically looking for his phone as if Tanjirou might still be online.

His foot hit something hard. Looking down, he saw his phone and grabbed it, eyes locked on a notification.

[Wisteria Line]

Thank you for using our service.

Your companion, “Tanjirou,” left you a note before disconnecting:

“I hope you slept well, Giyuu.

If ever you need to talk, I’m here. Just mention
my name to the operator. I’m mostly free on
weekends and past eight on weekdays.

Get some more rest, okay?”

Giyuu stared at the screen for a long time.

Then, slowly, a smile tugged at the corner of his lips.

And his heart started beating with a feeling he hadn’t felt in a long time.

Chapter Text

There were only three things on Giyuu’s agenda today.

First: mute notifications on his company-issued devices.

Himejima Gyomei, the country CEO, had been more than supportive when Giyuu told him he'd be offline—and possibly unreachable—for the next three days.

“Take all the rest you need,” Himejima had said over a call. “I’ll ask the team to route any urgent concerns to Shinazugawa. Thank you for your hard work.”

Giyuu wasn’t sure what unsettled him more: not being on call for the first time since he transferred, or the fact that Shinazugawa was the one covering for him.

Like Giyuu, Shinazugawa loved his numbers—the bigger the better. As Chief Financial Officer, all he cared about was where the money was coming from and where the money was going.

He certainly didn’t care for Giyuu. The feeling was mutual.

Second on the agenda: hit the gym. 

After giving Tanjirou a pitiful description of himself, Giyuu had decided he needed more time picking up weights. He’d never cared much about appearances—his hair alone was proof of that—but he found himself wondering what Tanjirou might think if they ever met in person.

Because Giyuu definitely wants to meet him.

He wanted to see the face behind the voice that lulled him to sleep, that made him hard, that made him feel—if only for a while—like he was home.

His last agenda was to hear him again.

Giyuu had tried to message him through the app, but it didn’t allow callers to reach out directly. Which was ironic, considering callers could request operators by name—just not message them. Somehow, that made sense to whoever built the platform.

He’d even ranted about it to Kochou, who just sent him an eye-rolling emoji.

Giyuu kept checking the app anyway, like an idiot.

Just in case.

Uzui Tengen, his fitness coach, put him to work as soon as he saw Giyuu out in broad daylight.

“Tomioka! Is that really you?” Uzui’s voice boomed across the gym. “I thought you burned under the sun. What brings your vampire-ass out this early?”

Giyuu blinked, considering whether it was too late to turn around and pretend he forgot something in the car.

But Uzui was already striding over, radiating testosterone, arms crossed to flex his too-huge biceps. “You know, I’ve trained bodybuilders, models, professional athletes—but you? You’re the rarest client of all. A full-blown workaholic, who never missed to skip a holiday, voluntarily stepping into a gym during business hours. I should frame this moment!”

Giyuu said nothing. Mostly because he didn’t know what to say, and also because it was Uzui, and Uzui didn’t exactly need help keeping a conversation going.

Uzui narrowed his eyes in mock suspicion. “Alright, what’s the occasion? You finally got fed up with sitting for fourteen hours a day? Or”—his grin widened—“don’t tell me there’s someone you’re trying to impress?”

Giyuu kept his expression neutral. He ignored the man with a sigh and approached the mat to start on his warm-ups.

“Oh my god, there is,” Uzui gasped, like a scandalized auntie at brunch. “Say no more, I won’t pry—actually, I will, but later. For now, let’s get to work.”

He clapped a heavy hand on Giyuu’s back, making him to stumble forward. “Don’t worry. By the time I’m done with you, you’ll have Uzui-grade muscles and a spine of steel. You’ll thank me when your mystery lover can’t keep their hands off your body.”

Giyuu glanced at Uzui’s bulging arms. “I don’t think that’s—”

Uzui cut him off with a grin on his face, “Tomioka, drop and give me twenty. Now.”

After two hours of training like an Olympian on the eve of finals, Giyuu’s muscles screamed in agony. He glared at Uzui as he staggered out of the gym, body aching and needing a boost of caffeine before he dropped dead on the sidewalk.

He checked his watch: three o’clock. Five more hours. Giyuu pulled his phone out of his pocket for the third time in ten minutes, stared at the Wisteria Line app as if it owed him something, then put it back again.

Coffee. He needed coffee.

Turning a random corner on an unfamiliar street, he spotted a small café wedged between a bakery and a bookstore—one he hadn’t seen before. “Ember & Bloom,” the sign read in elegant script.

Through the window, only a few customers sat scattered inside. Figuring he had time to try something new, Giyuu pushed open the door.

And was greeted by the smell of home.

The rich aroma of hand-drip coffee, toasted hojicha, and the soft scent of fresh seasonal flowers filled the room. 

He glanced around the café: a boy with long black hair tipped in turquoise was nodding off by the window, his iced coffee melting in front of him. A blond man sat nearby, stealing glances at the counter, clearly restless. Across the room, two girls chatted animatedly, their butterfly hairpins reminding Giyuu of Kochou’s insect collection

It was… quaint. Peaceful. More importantly, quiet. Just the perfect kind of place for Giyuu.

A girl with bright pink eyes looked up from the counter, “Welcome! What can I get for you today?” 

He glanced at the menu. “What would you recommend?”

She smiled. “Hot or iced? Sweet, or something with a stronger kick?"

“Hot. And very strong.” Something to keep his senses sharp—at least until Tanjirou distracted him again.

The girl giggled. “Perfect. My brother just created something new. Want to try? It’s called the Raging Sun.”

Giyuu nodded, not having much of an opinion. 

He settled by the window, muscles protesting the movement. Pulling out a book, he flipped through the pages, but the words didn’t really stick.

This place isn’t a bad spot, he thought. Warm but not stuffy. Alive enough to feel cozy. Somewhere he and Tanjirou might actually relax for a da–

The thought caught him off guard.

One call, and already he was thinking about dating Tanjirou.

Lonely didn’t even begin to cover it.

“Your Raging Sun, sir!”

He jumped, the book slipping from his hands and landing against the window with a soft thud. The pink-eyed girl apologized quickly, setting the steaming cup in front of him.

“Hope it wakes you up,” she said. “My brother says it’s like your alarm clock, but tastier!”

Giyuu looked up, really looked at her for the first time. Her warmth was genuine, disarming in its simplicity.

“Thanks,” he muttered.

She nodded, then turned on her heel and bounced back behind the counter, humming something under her breath.

Giyuu took a sip.

It was good. Really good. 

Giyuu had always preferred his coffee black, brewed fresh from the darkest roasts.

What would Tanjirou like? He thought. And just like that, he realized he wanted to know more than just a name or a voice — he wanted to know him.

Hours then slipped by—Giyuu nursing his coffee, half-reading, absentmindedly thumbing pages, his mind circling back to Tanjirou more times than he thought a person could think about someone they’d only spoken to once. 

It also occurred to him that he hadn’t let work sneak in. He felt a bit proud—not of his discipline, but of letting himself feel something else.

The café grew busier, the steady hum of conversations filling the space. Glancing at his watch, it was already six.

Time to go.

The pink-eyed girl waved goodbye. He gave a small, awkward wave back.

He’d leave a five-star review later.

Giyuu pushed open the café door and stepped into the cool evening air, the warmth of the coffee still lingering in his mouth.

His fingers fished out his phone again, eyes locked on the Wisteria Line app. He reread Tanjirou’s message for what seemed like the hundredth time, as if it might suddenly light up with a new one.

Too absorbed, he didn’t notice the body barreling toward him until they collided.

“Ah, sorry!” a warm, slightly breathless voice said in English.

Giyuu looked up.

A man, hair dark with faint red tips, met his gaze. His eyes were soft, kind... 

Colored in a deep shade of wine.

Giyuu found himself staring, caught off guard by how striking he looked.

The man blinked, as if he’d just realized he’d been staring too, and gave an awkward smile. “Sorry,” he said again, then hurried past Giyuu and into the café he had just left.

Giyuu watched his back a moment longer than he meant to. There was something oddly familiar about him. Huh.

He slipped his phone back into his pocket and started walking back to his car, a strange warmth lingering longer than he expected.

Giyuu found himself in the same spot as yesterday, hand hovering over his phone. The scene hadn’t changed—his usual Chinese takeout still cluttered the coffee table in front of him.

Only this time, he didn’t hesitate to press call.

A male voice picked up this time. “Hello, thank you for calling Wisteria Line. Is this your first time calling?”

“No.”

“Thank you for calling back. Would you like to reconnect with your last contact?”

“Yes.” He didn’t even think twice.

There were a few clicks, then: “We hope you have a wonderful time, sir. We look forward to servicing you again.”

The line rang—longer than last time. He waited anyway, restless, almost trembling. He felt… excitement, he realized.

Tomioka Giyuu was fucking excited. The feeling was so foreign, a shock to his system, that he nearly missed what was said on the other line.

“Giyuu, is that you?” Tanjirou asked. With the way his voice sounded, Giyuu could imagine a smile on his face.

Was he also happy it was him?

“Hi,” Giyuu replied, feeling shy. Like he hadn’t spent the entire day waiting for this call.

“I was hoping it would be you.”

Giyuu tilted his head, his chest warming at the words. “Why?”

“I thought about you all day.”

Giyuu felt himself flush, hand dragging down his face. Tanjirou was far too straightforward for him to function properly.

He could only repeat his question, “Why?”

Tanjirou didn’t seem to mind, “With a voice that sexy, I’m pretty sure no one can get you out of their heads—myself included.”

Giyuu blinked. He thought his voice was sexy? What an absurd thing to say.

The rare times he bothered with small talk at work—asking where the granola bars were in the pantry, for instance—his colleagues always stared at him like he was glitching. Tilting their heads, squinting, trying to decode whether he was malfunctioning.

Only Kochou, the leadership team, and two managers under his supervision could handle talking with him for longer than two sentences.

Sexy wasn’t the word anyone used. Flat, maybe. Cold, definitely. 

So, no, he wasn’t sexy.

“…You’re messing with me,” he said finally.

“I’m not,” Tanjirou replied, sounding genuinely offended. “You just don’t hear yourself the way I do, I guess.”

Giyuu rested an elbow on his knee, cheek propped in his palm. “I’ve been told my voice is better suited for AI.”

“Whoever said that should see a doctor. They clearly have hearing problems,” Tanjirou shot back, indignant now.

He couldn’t help a chuckle to slip out of him.

Tanjirou hummed, pleased with what he heard, “I’d love to hear that more often.”

A small smile tugged at Giyuu’s lips, even though Tanjirou couldn’t see it. “Then you should talk to me more.”

Silence stretched between them. Giyuu sat up straighter, nerves prickling. Had he said too much? Misread something? Was he being too forward? God, what did you say in a situation like this—

“I want to,” Tanjirou breathed at last, voice dipping. “I want to hear what other sounds you can make.”

Now Giyuu was the one left speechless.

“What would you sound like if I leaned in close? Near enough to smell the cologne you used today.” Tanjirou wondered aloud. “Would you let me?”

Giyuu gulped. There was no real question there. “I would.”

“How about if I touched you? Would your breath catch if I let my hand slip under your shirt?” Tanjirou asked, almost innocently. “Would you let me?”

Giyuu found his hand brushing the hem of his top. “You wouldn’t stop asking, would you?” he muttered, his voice lower than it was a moment ago.

“Not if you told me yes.”

How could he say no?

“...I’d let you,” Giyuu relented.

A low hum of approval. “Would you tell me to stop if I took your shirt off? I’d want to see more of that pale skin of yours.” A pause, deliberate, then softer: “What sound would you make if I tasted it?”

Giyuu suddenly shot to his feet, heading straight for his bedroom in search of his wireless earphones.

“I’d start at your throat,” Tanjirou murmured, “licking you up and down like a treat.”

Where the hell are those things? Giyuu flipped his pillows over. Nothing.

“I’d leave a hickey right in the middle. Big and bruising. I bet your coworkers would have a field day with that.”

He yanked open his bedside drawer, rifling through it. Not there either.

“If that still kept you quiet, I’d drag my tongue down your chest, going lower.”

Giyuu tore the sheets from his immaculately made bed, scanning his king-sized mattress. Damn it. Where the fuck is it?

“My hands would follow the wet trail I left, pressing you down while I settled between your legs…” Tanjirou chuckled, catching the sharp curse Giyuu let out as he stormed into the bathroom, still tearing through drawers in his search.

“And you’d let me. You’d spread your legs for me—because you want me there.”

Giyuu caught a flash of white on the low chair by his full-length mirror. There.

“I’d grab your hand and put it on top of my head. I’d want you to keep me there while I unbuckle your belt and pull your pants down.”

He snatched up the case, shoved the earphones in, and the Bluetooth connected with a soft chime.

“When I pull your cock out, already hard and—oh, you’d be big, wouldn’t you? I just know it.” Tanjirou groaned, low and hungry.

Giyuu’s phone slipped from his hand and hit the carpet as he dropped into the chair. With both hands finally free, he did exactly what Tanjirou painted into his head. He shoved his sweatpants and briefs down to his thighs, his cock springing out—painfully hard, flushed, twitching in the air.

“I’d tug at your hand, make you guide my mouth down onto your fat cock so I could lap at the mess already leaking out of you.”

Giyuu grit his teeth as his fist wrapped around his shaft, the relief almost dizzying. He pumped once, then dragged his thumb across the swollen, wet tip, smearing pre-cum over the slick head.

“I bet you’d taste so good,” Tanjirou went on, voice breaking into a groan. “I wouldn’t hold back. I’d swallow you, tip first, my tongue lapping you up.”

Giyuu squeezed the swollen tip of his cock, milking more pre-cum to coat his hand. He imagined it was Tanjirou’s hot, wet mouth wrapped around him, and the thought nearly tore a moan from his throat. He pressed his thumb into the slit and rubbed until the flesh parted under the touch.

“You wouldn’t want to hold back either,” Tanjirou whined. “You’d push my head down, force me to take you whole. I’d let you. I’d want you to hit the back of my throat.”

Fucking fuck. 

Giyuu abandoned teasing his tip and wrapped his fist fully around himself, stroking hard and fast. There was no rhythm—just a man chasing a high, his hand moving roughly and desperately.

“Giyuu,” Tanjirou breathed, sounding wrecked, “What sound would you make when you cum in my mouth?”

The answer came in a raw moan as Giyuu spilled over his fist, pleasure tearing through him so sharply he saw stars and wine-colored eyes flashing behind his lids.

There were only the sounds of Giyuu’s heavy breathing as he slumped back in the chair, hands streaking with cum, cock still twitching from the aftershocks as he jerked off like his life depended on it.

For the first time since their call started, Tanjirou was silent.

Giyuu’s ears strained for anything.

“Tanjirou? Are you there?” His voice came out rougher than he intended, catching on the edges of his breath.

A breath, like a deep inhale. Finally, a low chuckle. “…Yeah. I’m here.”

“You went quiet.” After just giving me the best orgasm I’ve ever had from my own hand.

“I came,” Tanjirou said too casually, no trace of shame. If anything, he sounded smug, like he’d just proved his point. “You sounded good enough for the both of us.”

Heat shot back up Giyuu’s spine, his spent cock coming alive.

He threw an arm over his eyes. “You’re unbelievable.”

Tanjirou laughed again, softer this time, satisfied. “And you didn’t stop me.”

Giyuu had no answer, because who was he kidding? He fucking enjoyed it. If this was the mess he became over a phone call, what would the real thing feel like?

Would it be too much, too soon, to ask to meet? Would Tanjirou even want that? What was this to him? What was this to Giyuu?

His throat worked, but the words stayed stuck; everything he thought of was too awkward to say aloud.

Before he could speak, Tanjirou exhaled. “I’m not trying to leave you hanging, but I need to go. Got a few things to finish tonight.”

“Aside from me?” The tease slipped out before Giyuu could stop himself.

Laughter burst through his earphones, loud and bright.

And Giyuu thought it was the most beautiful sound in the world.

When Tanjirou finally caught his breath, he wheezed between chuckles. “God, you’re so cute.”

Even after dragging him through filth with that dirty mouth, those simple words made Giyuu’s pulse beat faster.

Tell me more. Tell me you want me.

“I’m sorry, I really have to go,” Tanjirou said, tone softer now and regretful at the same time. “I’m mostly free tomorrow, though. Best if you call before noon or after eight. If you just… want to, that is.” He stumbled over the last part.

Giyuu frowned at the ceiling, “Why wouldn’t I want to call you?”

Tanjirou’s breath hitched. “You’re a busy man. I’m just… here if you need me.”

He didn’t like the impression he made on Tanjirou. The idea that he thought Giyuu wouldn’t make time when all he had done today was wait for him.

All he had right now was time. Time to know more about Tanjirou. To explore him. 

And he needed more.

“Talk to me. Outside the app.”

He could hear the smile in Tanjirou’s reply when it came. “Thought you’d hold back longer than that.” Another beat, then, gentler this time: “I’ll message you my number.”

A soft click. The call ended.

Giyuu stayed where he was, mind still reeling. The sweat on his body and the cum on his hand were already drying up, but his mind wouldn’t stop replaying how Tanjirou sounded—the way he made Giyuu feel.

The confidence, the audacity—it turned him on more than he wanted to admit.

He was already hooked.

Chapter Text

Giyuu: Tanjirou? Hi, this is Giyuu.

Tanjirou: Hi, this is Giyuu! This is Tanjirou. 

Giyuu: Are you making fun of me?

Tanjirou: I just like teasing you, that’s all.

Giyuu: You tease me too much.

Tanjirou: And yet you keep coming back. Admit it, you like it.

Giyuu: …

Tanjirou: Those three dots say everything.

Giyuu: You’re insufferable.

Tanjirou: You texted me first!

Giyuu: I wanted to.

Tanjirou: Wanted me ;)

Giyuu: …

Tanjirou: You can type whatever, but I already know you’re thinking about me.

Giyuu: Are you always this cocky?

Tanjirou: Only when my cock’s begging for attention. Wanna help with that?

Jesus.

Tanjirou: Don’t go all silent on me now. I can see you blushing through the screen.

Giyuu: I don’t blush.

Tanjirou: Sure, you don’t. But you’re still thinking about me.

Giyuu: You don’t know that.

Tanjirou: Oh, but I do. Bet you’re remembering what I said on the phone. 

Tanjirou: My mouth. Your cock. The cum you’ll give me after. 

Giyuu: …Stop.

Tanjirou: Say stop one more time, and I’ll tell you exactly what I’m doing right now.

Giyuu: …

Tanjirou: Say it.

Giyuu: Why don’t you just tell me?

Tanjirou: I want to know you want it.

If someone had told him he’d be sexting at eight in the morning on a Saturday, he would’ve smacked them on the head—then paid their hospital bills. Yet here he was. Just last week, his weekends were for creating reports, analyzing data, and tracking market trends.

Now he lay sprawled across his bed, eyes glued to his phone, thumb hovering over the screen as he contemplated his next action point.

Numbers were easy. Outcomes could be forecasted, mapped out with formulas. Numbers, he could control.

But people? People were unpredictable. They shifted moods at the smallest trigger. Quick to offend. Quick to lose interest. They said one thing, meant another. It was safer to stay quiet, to minimize interactions, because he didn’t want to mess up. Which, knowing him, he usually did.

Tanjirou: Do you want it?

The message sat there, glowing.

Giyuu had no authority over people, least of all over Tanjirou. But here was a choice offered to him. To take, if he wanted.

And God, does he want. To say what’s on his mind. To demand what he deserved without judgment.

Tanjirou: Okay, I’m sorry. Let’s talk about something else.

He didn’t want to talk about something else.

Giyuu snatched his wireless earphones from beside his pillow and slammed a finger on the call button.

“Giyuu? Look, I know it’s too early for that. Should’ve asked you what you had for breakfast first, but—”

“Take off all your clothes,” Giyuu cut in, his voice steel and low, a command slipping out before he could stop it. “Go to your bed. On your knees.”

He was met with stunned silence. Giyuu didn’t let it faze him; he was fully committed to what he wanted to happen.

“Now.”

A sharp intake of breath, the click of a lock, the rustle of clothes being shed, and the faint squeak of a springy mattress reached his ears.

“What do you want me to do?” Tanjirou asked, far too eager for Giyuu not to take advantage.

“Shove your fingers in your mouth.” As Giyuu gave his instructions, he palmed his growing hardness over his sweatpants.

“Are they in?”

Tanjirou’s response was a moan, his words garbled around the fingers forced inside him.

“Don’t stop until I tell you,” Giyuu said, gripping himself harder. “Fuck your mouth for me.”

The sounds that followed—wet, sloppy, urgent—filled the room through the call.

“Deeper.”

Choking now, Tanjirou didn’t relent. He followed every command, and Giyuu felt the absolute submission, the full control he held over him. It was intoxicating.

“I want to hear you gag. Do it.”

Giyuu hadn’t known he had a taste for this before, but now, there was no denying it. He would always want this. With Tanjirou. And no one else.

Heavy gurgles and ragged breaths assaulted his ears, but Tanjirou didn’t stop. He wouldn’t. He couldn’t. He didn’t want to disappoint Giyuu.

Rewarding him was only right.

“Put those fingers inside your ass. Stretch it wide. Get it ready for my cock.” He imagined being the one doing it, supple cheeks being parted forcefully to reveal a twitching hole. He settled for his hand on his shaft, fully hard and leaking.

“It feels so good, Giyuu,” Tanjirou moaned. It was obscene, hearing wet fingers going in and out of his tight entrance.

“How many fingers are inside you?”

“Three.”

“Add one more. Not enough if I were fucking you right now.”

Tanjirou actually sobbed. 

“I knew you’d be big,” he whined.

Giyuu smirked. “You think you’re ready for my cock?”

Another moan: “Yes, God, I want it.”

Giyuu smeared his hand with pre-cum as he prepared to jerk himself off to the sounds of Tanjirou falling to pieces.

“Then I want to hear you scream for me, Tanjirou. Fuck yourself.”

He stroked his cock in time with Tanjirou’s moans, his cries for relief, the shallow, quick breathing that didn’t seem to cease. He imagined pounding into a faceless body and ached to see the expressions he would make when he hit his prostate, over and over, only for him to go—

“Harder,” Giyuu hissed, throwing his head back as his pace grew more frantic.

“Giyuu, I need to cum!” Tanjirou pleaded.

“Beg me some more,” he demanded.

“Please, please, let me cum! I’ll be a good boy! I’ll be so good for you. Cum inside me whenever you want!”

The desperation, the fucking image—so raw, so urgent—drove Giyuu to the edge. He couldn’t fight the loud groan that escaped him as his cum dripped on his hand, stomach, and chest.

“Giyuu!”

“Cum for me. Let me hear it,” he finally relented.

Tanjirou did exactly what he was told, a scream tearing through the line. Giyuu took it all in, savoring how utterly wrecked he sounded.

Their ragged breaths filled the quiet room. Giyuu couldn’t move, caught in a haze of pleasure that made him whisper, “Good boy.”

A breathless chuckle answered. “Stop!”

A slow smile curved his lips. “Say stop one more time…”

“Okay! Yeah, I asked for it. But seriously… stop. I can’t get it up, even if I wanted to right now,” Tanjirou groaned.

“Is this how you usually say hello over the phone? I didn’t peg you as a kinky guy,” He teased.

“I wasn’t,” Giyuu admitted, voice soft, “Until this morning.”

A pause, then Tanjirou’s voice dropped. “What are you doing to me?”

Giyuu could only second that. “Made you cum two days in a row?”

Laughter boomed through his ears, rich and unrestrained. He could never get enough of it. Who knew he was capable of making someone laugh like this? Or maybe it was just Tanjirou.

The man laughed freely, like happiness was something to breathe in and out, every single day. It was addictive. Everything about him was.

Now all that remained was a face to admire, a body to touch, a scent to inhale. Giyuu felt himself wanting again.

This time, he didn’t hesitate.

“Tanjirou.”

“Yes?”

“Are you free today?”

“I am. Why?”

Giyuu sent him a location pin to the same café he’d stayed at yesterday. He didn’t know why—it just felt like a place he would like.

“Are you asking what I think you’re asking?” Tanjirou whispered.

Doubt pressed against him. The same doubt that had led him to mindlessly accept things, even when they weren’t what he needed or what would make him truly happy.

But if he doubted forever, he’d never have known Tanjirou. That voice alone—just his voice—could make Giyuu come undone.

His fingers tightened around his phone. "I just want to see you,” he confessed, quieter than usual, almost vulnerable. “Is that okay?”

A pause on the other end.

“What if you don’t like what you see?”

Giyuu took a moment to respond, because he understood. They could exchange photos now, do a video call even, before meeting in person. But why prolong the inevitable?

Whatever Tanjirou looked like, it didn’t matter. It was his voice, his words, that drew Giyuu in. It would just be the same person.

“I heard you first. There’s nothing not to like,” he said honestly.

A scoff, then a chuckle that vibrated warmly in his chest. “That’s kind of scary, you know? Meeting someone you met on an app. What if I’m a serial killer?”

Giyuu laughed at the absurdity. Then again, it’s a possibility. “At least I’d have one last orgasm before getting murdered. Not a bad way to go.”

Tanjirou fed him more of that contagious laughter, “Same here. Think you can give me one more before we meet?”

He barely registered the agreement as all the blood in his head pooled down.

“Haven’t we imagined enough?” Giyuu replied, a faint smirk in his tone, his cum-stained hand ready for round two. “I want the real thing now.”

Tanjirou hummed in that low, seductive way that had Giyuu bracing for what he’d say next.

“If I were to die today, I’d like the last thing I hear to be you moaning in my ear as you cum.”

What an insatiable creature.

“Now,” Tanjirou continued, “How about you walk me through how you’d fuck me when we meet?”

Giyuu: Can’t you at least send me a picture of yourself? What if I approach the wrong person?

Tanjirou: Then you might be arrested for harassment. :( 

Giyuu: Are you seriously a serial killer planning to frame me?

Tanjirou: Why would I cockblock myself? That doesn’t make sense.

Giyuu: Is sex always on your mind?

Tanjirou: Only with you.

Giyuu grinned widely, and damn him, his heart actually skipped a beat.

He pushed the door open to Ember & Bloom, and, like before, the pink-eyed girl greeted him cheerfully.

“Ah, it’s you again! Same order as last time?” she asked.

He smiled, feeling a little giddy. “Sure.”

The girl blinked at him, mouth forming a perfect “O.” “Wow… you’re so handsome, sir.”

Giyuu blinked in return, heat rising to his cheeks. He wasn’t used to being complimented like this—not until Tanjirou. He cleared his throat and looked down at the menu, noticing for the first time the Japanese translations under the English names.

Deciding to take a chance, he said, “I’ll also have pancakes and daifuku for two, please,” in Japanese.

The girl froze, mouth hanging open. “You’re Japanese? Oh my god!” Her eyes scanned him, narrowing and then widening, as if recognizing him.

“I’ll be right back!” she exclaimed, disappearing into the back.

She slipped into a staff room, leaving Giyuu dumbfounded. Maybe it was rare for them to have a Japanese customer?

He stayed at the counter, fishing out his phone to text Tanjirou that he’d already arrived. Giyuu had come a little early, wanting to be first—to get the first look at the man who’d made him seek pleasure over calls. The man who’d brought him to completion without ever touching him.

And now, finally, the anticipation was real, electric in the air, making the wait feel unbearable.

A notification pinged somewhere inside the café. He turned his head, scanning the same group of people he’d seen yesterday—no one matching Tanjirou’s description.

The girl returned with a mischievous gleam in her eyes. “I’m sorry for the wait! My nii-chan’s going to serve your order in a bit. Please, take a seat!”

Giyuu gave up trying to understand her and nodded. He took the same seat as last time, gazing out the window at the street vendors, tourists, and locals that filled New York’s streets.

Waiting for a certain man with wine-colored hair and eyes, skin kissed by the sun.

Lost in his search, he didn’t notice the food and drink being placed on his table.

“Are you with someone? Should I place another plate?” a voice asked in English.

Giyuu turned—and saw the same stranger he’d bumped into.

He stared. Up close, the stranger’s hair and eyes blazed red under the sunlight streaming through the glass windows. Hanafuda earrings dangled from his ears, swaying hypnotically.

There was an allure to him, and Giyuu found himself enchanted.

He immediately squashed the feeling. Great. He hadn’t even met Tanjirou yet, and already he was physically attracted to someone else. Could this be considered cheating?

“Uh, yeah, I’m waiting for someone,” Giyuu managed.

The stranger—wearing the same apron as the pink-eyed girl—glanced at the empty seat in front of him.

“Mind if I keep you company until they arrive?” His smile dazzled instantly.

Involuntarily, Giyuu’s mind began to associate Tanjirou with this stranger’s physical appearance. The traits matched perfectly, and somehow, it felt right.

The moment that thought passed, guilt hit him like a wave.

“I mind. He should be arriving any second,” Giyuu said blankly, tone cold and flat.

The stranger slid into the empty seat anyway, eyes flicking over Giyuu’s face as if reading every thought. “Is he someone important?”

Giyuu narrowed his eyes. “Yes. Very important,” he said, voice controlled, dismissive. “You should leave.”

“What’s he like?” the stranger pressed, leaning just close enough to make Giyuu’s pulse spike—in anger and something else he didn’t want to name.

He should ignore him. Better yet, report him to the pink-eyed girl. When he glanced back at her, she was watching them intently—and then she gave him a thumbs up.

What in the fucking hell? 

“Well?” The stranger was relentless. Maybe he’d have to call the Department of Labor after all.

But there was no malice in him—only genuine curiosity. As much as it annoyed him to have his space invaded, Giyuu found himself shaping words to describe the man he’d been waiting for.

“He’s… funny. Drives me insane most of the time.” A pause, then he added, “But I like it.”

“Sounds like someone who knows how to get under your skin.” The stranger grinned, almost teasingly. “Is he a looker?”

“We… haven’t met yet,” Giyuu admitted. Next, he’d be telling this stranger his favorite color. Why was he being so honest?

The stranger leaned in a little more, voice soft and playful. “You’re very serious and cold. Are you always like this?”

“I don’t entertain strangers,” Giyuu said, precise and measured.

The stranger tilted his head. “But you haven’t met your person face to face yet, right? Isn’t he technically a stranger, too?

He’s got a point. But Tanjirou was Tanjirou, and this man was taking too much of his time. He chose to ignore him, hoping it would make him go away.

“Careful, huh?” The stranger smirked. “But a little temptation couldn’t hurt, right? I’m here. He’s not.” He was close enough now that Giyuu felt the faint brush of heat from his body—enough to stir awareness, but not desire. Not enough to forget.

Giyuu’s expression remained impassive. “Leave me alone.”

The stranger blinked, finally getting the hint. Then he laughed—loud, uninhibited.

Like someone Giyuu intimately knew.

“You really are so cute, Giyuu,” he said in Japanese, his voice pitched a little higher.

Hearing that voice in real life, so close, made him shudder in recognition.

“Let’s start over, shall we?” Tanjirou teased. He rested his chin on his palm, smiling at Giyuu like he was the only person in the room who mattered.

“Hi. I’m Tanjirou.”

Chapter Text

Something crawled up his leg and came to rest beside his thigh, rubbing, nudging—shameless like they weren’t in public.

Tanjirou’s smile widened when Giyuu froze at the touch.

“What’s wrong?” Tanjirou asked innocently while his foot slid between Giyuu’s knees. “Disappointed already?”

He wanted to say that he’s fucking gorgeous—that Giyuu probably wouldn’t have a chance with him if they’d met anywhere else.

But he couldn’t get a damn word out while Tanjirou pried him open, shoving a leg aside, that foot inching toward his crotch.

“Was everything you said on the phone just talk?”

A calloused, tanned hand caught his, nails grazing the back of it.

“I thought you’d bend me over a table,” Tanjirou murmured, “Fuck me until I couldn’t stand.”

A pink tongue slipped out to wet his lips, teeth dragging across it.

“I thought you’d tear me apart.” His foot brushed the hard line of Giyuu’s erection.

Tanjirou’s eyes gleamed, grin feral. “Come on,” he urged, tapping once on the bulge.

“Violate me.” Then he pressed—hard.

Giyuu’s hand shot out, clamping around his ankle before he could do more damage.

He’d underestimated him. Too bold. Too reckless. Too willing to see Giyuu unravel right here, right now.

He’s going to be the death of him.

Tanjirou jerked his foot forward, still trying to reach his cock. Mouth parted, eyes dark with want.

“Giyuu,” he breathed, “Don’t you want me?”

Giyuu had always prided himself on being level-headed—steady under pressure, composed where others faltered. It’s what made him good at his job: quick mind, clear eyes, blunt tongue.

But all that discipline shattered, brain empty.

Except to fuck.

Giyuu yanked Tanjirou’s ankle. The man slipped on the seat, ass sliding forward, hands catching the armrests in a scramble to steady himself.

“What are you—”

Another tug cut him off. Half of Tanjirou’s body disappeared beneath the table, a startled yelp escaping him.

Giyuu tipped his head toward the door. “You’ve got three options. One: we go to my place, and I promise you’ll be comfortable enough.”

He tightened his grip on the ankle, thumb brushing over the bump of bone. “Two: we use your back room, but I can’t promise you’ll stay quiet enough not to scare customers away.”

Tanjirou’s gaze darted toward the staff room, then back at him—actually considering it. He wanted to be heard. Giyuu’s cock twitched at the possibilities.

“And the third?” he asked, a faint tremor betraying his confidence.

Giyuu’s hand slid upward, over the smooth slope of his calves, his knees, then the firm curve of his thighs. He squeezed, hoping it was hard enough to leave marks he could admire later.

“There’s a dark alley around the corner,” Giyuu murmured. “I don’t think you’d mind getting dirty, would you?” He smirked.

Tanjirou tried to clamp his legs together, searching for friction, but Giyuu’s other hand slipped under the table, pinning his knee down.

Breath shallow, Tanjirou said, “I have another option.”

“What.” Giyuu snapped, voice tight. Control was breaking down fast.

“My apartment’s just upstairs. Think you can make it to the bedroom?”

Well, isn’t that convenient?

“I’ll give you a ten-second head start.” Giyuu slapped Tanjirou’s thigh and let go.

Tanjirou was on his feet in an instant. The chair screeched against the floor, earning glances from nearby customers. The pink-eyed girl raised a hand and high-fived a laughing Tanjirou as he vanished through the back.

Giyuu counted down the seconds, trying—and failing—to calm himself. This was happening.

In three.

Two.

One.

He stood and left some cash on the table, paying a little extra as an apology.

An arm suddenly blocked his path. He looked up to see the pink-eyed girl, who for once appeared serious.

“Peak hours start at five,” she said flatly. “If you two are still at it by then, take it somewhere else. Mom will kill me if we get noise complaints.”

Giyuu blinked. “Who are you?”

She rested a hand on her hip. “Nezuko.” A sharp poke to his arm. “My brother’s too horny right now, so I’m trusting you to be responsible, alright?”

If this could get any more embarrassing. Tanjirou’s sister knew him—knew what they were about to do—and she was giving him ground rules.

Too late to back out now. “Noted.”

Nezuko sighed, lowering her arm. “Good luck, Giyuu-san.”

He could only describe Tanjirou’s home as cozy. Plants crowded the windowsills, a cat dozed on the low couch, and the walls were lined with photographs of smiling faces. Beside them, a shelf sagged under the weight of vinyl records.

It was a three-bedroom place, but somehow Giyuu knew. The room in the middle was his.

He’d barely stepped inside when a hand caught his shirt collar and yanked him forward—

Right into the waiting lips of the man who had called out the ache in him.

Giyuu’s fingers tangled in those dark-red strands, gripping the back of his neck as he tilted Tanjirou’s head back and took. His tongue plunged deep, tasting, learning.

And he tasted good. Sweet, like the coffee Giyuu knew he drank. Their lips barely met, too lost in the slick drag of tongues.

Giyuu’s free hand slid to his chin, thumb hooking into the corner of his mouth. “Stick your tongue out.”

Tanjirou obeyed instantly, pliant. Giyuu closed his lips around his tongue, sucking loudly. He pressed his fingers against Tanjirou’s jaw, forcing it open wider, devouring more.

When he pulled back for air, he drew Tanjirou’s tongue with him, a thin thread of spit snapping between them. Giyuu wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, gaze dropping to Tanjirou’s flushed lips. He was still hungry.

“Take off our clothes,” he said, voice rough. “Yours first.”

Tanjirou tried to nod, but Giyuu’s grip on his neck held him still—just small, jerky motions of obedience.

He toed off his shoes and socks in one motion. Practiced fingers made quick work of the buttons and zipper, the soft rasp filling the quiet space. Tanjirou eased his pants and briefs down, giving Giyuu a show of long legs and flexing muscle beneath warm skin. Giyuu’s breath caught, his tongue darting out to wet his lips at the sight of Tanjirou’s cock springing free—bouncing in its stiffness, glistening with anticipation.

His shirt followed, baring the sculpted lines of his stomach and chest. Giyuu’s gaze swept over him, eyes mapping new skin to feast on. He released his hold just long enough for Tanjirou to shed the last piece of clothing on him.

A low groan slipped from Giyuu’s throat. No fantasy he’d ever entertained could match the reality before him—Tanjirou’s naked body was tight and toned, skin smooth and supple.

A willing body for him to enjoy, to color in streaks of white.

He wanted to ruin him with his cock, to piece him back together with his touch—again and again—until the only truth left was that his body, his pleasure, belonged only to Giyuu.

Tanjirou’s hands trembled as they stripped Giyuu of his coat, then his shirt. He held Giyuu’s gaze while unbuckling his belt, breath quickening as the trousers pooled around his ankles.

He slowly looked down—and a soft, broken moan escaped him.

“Please,” he breathed, his hands falling helplessly to his sides.

Giyuu pulled him by the neck, drawing him closer until his cock pressed hot against Tanjirou’s stomach.

“Please, what?” He crooned.

Tanjirou moaned again, as if it were the only sound left in him. His hands fastened around Giyuu’s hips, fingers sinking into firm muscle as he used it for leverage to rub against the hard length between them.

“Let me put you in my mouth,” Tanjirou pleaded.

He remembered that one specific phone call that made all this possible—how Tanjirou described what he’d do, though he never asked what Giyuu wanted.

Giyuu gave him a sharp shake, forcing Tanjirou to look up and face the warning in his eyes.

“You’re going to take it all in,” Giyuu said, voice too calm for what he’s asking, “Your mouth will stay full until I decide I’m done. Tap out by tapping my thigh twice. Got it?” Giyuu ordered.

The rules were simple. All that was left was—

“Yes,” Tanjirou breathed, gaze fixed hungrily on his meal.

“Don’t forget to breathe.” Was Giyuu’s only reminder before he guided Tanjirou’s head down. His knees buckled, hitting the carpeted floor with a dull, solid thump.

Tanjirou didn’t open his mouth wide enough. Giyuu caught his head in both hands and pushed, sinking half his length inside with a single thrust. A strangled sound escaped Tanjirou as his fingers dug into the backs of Giyuu’s thighs, bracing for the rest.

He drove forward until he felt resistance, then rolled his hips, grinding slowly against Tanjirou’s face to let him breathe—to let him adjust.

“You’re almost there,” Giyuu encouraged. Teary, wine-red eyes lifted to meet his, pleading for him to look. Tanjirou then pushed himself forward, taking the rest of him until Giyuu’s length pressed against the back of his throat.

Giyuu nearly came at the sight and feel of the ridge of his tip bulging faintly against Tanjirou’s throat.

Tears streamed steadily from Tanjirou’s pretty eyes, but he didn’t tap out. He kept Giyuu warm with his mouth, waiting for whatever came next.

“Ready?” The question was a formality—Giyuu was already moving before an answer could come.

He pulled out halfway, then rammed his cock back to that hot, wet entrance. Tanjirou’s muffled squeals were pushed down his throat as Giyuu kept thrusting—deep and steady—selfishly chasing his pleasure. Tanjirou wept as Giyuu moaned, eyes committing the moment to memory.

“Touch yourself,” Giyuu grunted. He followed Tanjirou’s hands as he closed a fist around himself, stroking to the same pace as Giyuu’s thrusts. Cries turned to loud moans as Tanjirou masturbated to the feel of his mouth being jammed with cock. He came first, eyes rolling to the back of his head, mouth going more lax.

Giyuu shot his cum the moment he went past that ring of muscle—the deepest he could go. He threw his head back, eyes fluttering closed in bliss.

“Fuck.” He breathed a curse. He slowly pulled out to give Tanjirou some respite, but the man still had the strength to drag his tongue on the underside of his cock, licking him clean, then sucking the tip with a loud pop. 

Tanjirou swallowed audibly, then opened his mouth—tongue out—as if waiting for Giyuu to acknowledge his accomplishment.

Giyuu’s hand closed around his jaw, fingers massaging it gently. “We’re not done,” he said. “You don’t get to hear that from me until you've earned it.”

Tanjirou pouted—and goddamn it, if that wasn’t the cutest thing Giyuu had ever seen.

He pulled Tanjirou up, lips ghosting over one ear, “Show me how pretty you are on your hands and knees.” He turned him around and slapped his ass, “Go.”

Tanjirou crawled to the bed with deliberate slowness. Once he’s in position, he looks back at Giyuu with a shit-eating grin on his face. 

He dropped his chest on the mattress, angling his ass high in the air.

Spreading his legs wide, he presented Giyuu his plugged hole. 

He called it. Tanjirou will be the death of him a thousand times over.

Giyuu stalked forward, eyes never leaving the bedazzled butt plug settling so beautifully in Tanjirou’s reddened hole. He placed his hands on both cheeks, squeezing them together then apart, fascinated with how the plug disappeared in between his fat ass.

“You like it?” Tanjirou cooed. 

He wasn’t in his right mind to give a coherent answer. Instead, he fingered the end of the plug, scratching it, twisting it around like he was tightening a screw.

Tanjirou’s body jerked forward, head ducking beneath the pillows. He gasped as Giyuu slowly pulled out the plug, keeping half of it inside him.

Only to watch it get swallowed back inside by just that tight muscle alone.

“Look at what you’ve done,” Giyuu finally said, his voice rough and strained. “You didn’t even give me a chance to prepare you myself.”

Tanjirou trembled. “I wanted to surprise you.” He shook his ass closer to his face, “I don’t want you holding back. I can take it.”

He was one lucky son of a bitch.

“If you say so.” 

Giyuu moved like a man unhinged. Gripping Tanjirou’s narrow hips, he pulled him roughly towards his face, fingers withdrawing the plug, and replacing it with his tongue.

Tanjirou screamed as Giyuu licked his velvety insides. He had never done it before, but if he could keep hearing Tanjirou make those delicious sounds, he would gladly stay on his knees all day and night.

His hands helped push Tanjirou to the edge. To his left, he slapped an ass cheek, making it red and warm under his palm. His right one found his weeping cock, hot to the touch, and near bursting.

Lick. Slap. Stroke. Rinse and repeat, until Tanjirou begged for him to stop. 

Giyuu did when Tanjirou finally came on his sheets.

Tanjirou went utterly limp, unable to hold himself up, uncaring that he fell on top of his spend. 

Giyuu didn’t give him a moment to rest. He flipped him, legs opening on either side of him.

Leaning in, he left a firm mark at the junction of his neck and shoulder, sucking hard enough to be remembered. One gentle lick to soothe, a soft kiss to comfort.

Before he fucked him to oblivion.

“Tanjirou,” Giyuu whispered to his ear, “Where’s the lube?”

He sprang to life and groped blindly to his right, pointing at the bedside drawer. Giyuu opened it with a soft chuckle, amusement flickering in his eyes.

Leave it to Tanjirou to have dildos, vibrators, plugs, and three full bottles of lubricant right next to his pillow.

“I thought you said you could take it?” Giyuu teased as he lathered his hand with a generous amount of lube.

Upon touching his spit-covered shaft, he hissed at the cool sensation. He kept his eyes on Tanjirou’s sprawled figure, drinking him in, silently thanking all the gods above for this long-overdue reward.

Tanjirou remained quiet, but his eyes burned with determination. He curled his legs tightly to his chest, nearly folding himself in half.

His fingers stretched his gaping hole.

“Shut up. Just put it in already,” Tanjirou spat. “I’m blown wide open. What are you waiting for?” 

Giyuu blinked. He never thought this day would come.

He let his cock think for itself.

Giyuu gripped the back of Tanjirou’s thighs, folding him further until his knees touched the mattress below him. 

He wasn’t kidding when he said he was wide open. In one deep thrust, Tanjirou swallowed half of him already.

A hoarse scream tore from Tanjirou’s abused throat. Giyuu slapped a hand on his mouth as he pulled out all the way to the tip, then slammed back in. He kept thrusting downward, fucking him forcefully into the bed, stuffing his cock inch by inch into that tight little hole.

Saliva began to pool on Giyuu’s hand as Tanjirou’s muffled shouts filled the room. Giyuu kept his maddening pace, pistoning in and out, unrelenting until he bottomed out.

Giyuu bit his lip, tasting a bit of blood. The pain and coppery taste grounded him enough to keep from cumming. He rolled his hips, the area where they were joined slick in sweat, spit, and lubricant. The noises were fucking filthy, and he reveled in it.

Tanjirou fell silent. Giyuu cupped his cheek—tenderly, lovingly—letting his eyes linger on lust-clouded rubies that finally saw him and didn’t turn away.

Giyuu imagined future days—and he saw them with Tanjirou.

He withdrew completely, Tanjirou’s hole clenching around nothing, seeking him out. 

When Tanjirou cried to be filled, Giyuu fed him his cock. 

And when Tajirou smiled and his eyes crossed in pleasure, Giyuu knew he wouldn’t be able to let him go.

“You,” thrust, “are,” thrust, “mine.”

No response, only broken moans. Giyuu took himself out again. 

Smaller hands reached around to grab his cock, guiding it to his entrance.

“I’m yours, I’m yours, oh god, please cum in me,” Tanjirou begged. 

He turned around, hand still holding desperately onto the only thing he wanted in that moment. Giyuu groaned as Tanjirou impaled himself on his cock, body jerking forward and backward as he fucked himself.

Retaking control, Giyuu’s hands wrapped around a shapely waist as if it were molded for him. He dragged Tanjirou’s body back to him until his cock was fully sheathed to where it belonged. Hanafuda earrings moved back and forth in dizzying speed as Giyuu relentlessly pounded into him.

He then pushed three fingers inside Tanjirou’s mouth until he gagged and moaned from being penetrated from both ends. 

He was so close. 

Giyuu took out his wet fingers and fisted Tanjirou’s cock, stroking them with no rhythm. Tanjirou’s mouth hung open in a silent scream. 

A hand flung out to catch Giyuu’s wrist, trying to wrench himself away, “Giyuu, it’s too much!” 

“You can handle it.” Giyuu adjusted his angle. He thrusted when suddenly, Tanjirou’s back arched, thick cum spilling over his hand. 

There. Giyuu attacked that spot again and again, lost in the feel of Tanjirou’s receptive body. Tanned arms reached out around his neck, pulling him down to kiss the mouth that never ceased to surprise him. That made him want to be happier. That made him realize that he could crave and be craved in return.

“You’re so good, Giyuu,” Tanjirou whispered onto his lips. “So good for me.”

That did him in. Giyuu pushed his cum as deep as it could go inside Tanjirou. Both of them moaned at the sensation. At the completion of finally coming together after days of imagining.

Giyuu’s body shook from it all. He slumped on top of Tanjirou, their heavy breaths mingling in the sudden quiet.

He didn’t want to move, didn’t want to shatter the peaceful bubble they’d created. But Nezuko’s words nudged him to at least check the time.

“What time is it?” Giyuu asked, voice thick with grogginess.

Tanjirou turned his head toward him. “It’s only three thirty. Why?”

Giyuu shifted to face him. Tanjirou’s skin glowed with exertion, sweat dripping a line from his temple to the hollow of his neck. Stray waves of hair clung to his forehead, damp and curling.

Absentmindedly, Giyuu brushed Tanjirou’s hair aside, uncovering the birthmark there. His hand settled over it, thumb tracing the mark unique to him alone. Tanjirou froze, then slowly leaned into the touch.

He was stunning. And he was entirely Giyuu’s.

“Nezuko told me we have until five,” he smirked. “Can you do another round?”

Tanjirou blinked, then laughed—the kind that made Giyuu want to discover everything else that could make him happy.

The kind that made him want to fall in love.

Huh.

Tanjirou pushed at his shoulders, rolling until he was straddling him, hips flush against each other. He rubbed the mess between them, moaning at Giyuu’s rapidly growing arousal.

“You’d better thank Nezuko after this,” Tanjirou said. He slithered down until he was face-to-face with his cock once more. “Peak hours actually start at four.”

Giyuu grinned, promising he’d leave another five-star review once they’re done.

Chapter Text

“Faster,” Giyuu grunted, eyes never leaving Tanjirou as he bounced on top of him, nails digging into his chest, head thrown back. He increased his pace, ass slapping on cum-stained thighs.

It was well past five; he didn’t need a clock to know. They were both exhausted, knew they should’ve stopped two rounds ago, yet they couldn’t pull apart. Each time they came back down, they’d steal a breath, lock eyes, and inevitably, a hand would wander: up the neck, along the chest, and always between each other’s legs.

Uzui’s fitness routine suddenly seemed appealing. He needed it badly—if only to see his cock disappear a moment longer inside Tanjirou.

“Giyuu, I can’t… I can’t—” Tanjirou slurred, body glistening with sweat, arms giving out and collapsing onto Giyuu. Still, he kept grinding, his hips rotating in wide circles. A tongue lolled to lick a nipple, sending electric jolts down Giyuu’s spine.

They really should stop. He didn’t need to press his face into Tanjirou’s hair, sweet with freesia and pear. Giyuu didn’t need to grab his ass, kneading until flesh bulged against his fingers. He certainly didn’t need to finger the part where they were joined, as if needing any more proof of their connection.

But rational thoughts left him hours ago. Fingers sank into a bruising grip on tanned hips as Giyuu thrusted upwards, sudden and harsh. It hit that sweet spot, causing Tanjirou to wail in raw, visceral pleasure.

Hard knocks then snapped them to their senses.

“Nii-chan, are you crazy? It’s six already! Okaa-san and otou-san are going to be home any second!” The doorknob rattled violently. “I swear, if you make me explain what you’re doing in there, you’re stuck taking my shifts until you’re fifty!”

Tanjirou shot upright, eyes locking on something behind Giyuu. “Oh fuck!”

He pulled himself out—in too deep for it not to feel good, insides too full of cum for it not to spill down his thighs. They both looked down, moaning in tandem at the sight.

“Are you seriously still at it? How is that even possible!” Nezuko pounded the door again. “Giyuu-san, I swear I’ll kick you in the balls if you’re not out in five minutes!”

He felt himself soften in record time.

“Nezuko, oh my god! Stop, we’re coming!” Even with the door threatening to cave in, Tanjirou glanced at Giyuu, hand over his mouth, eyes sparkling at the innuendo.

Giyuu laughed for him—short, clipped, but genuine. “Want to meet at my place tonight?”

Tanjirou placed a chaste kiss on his lips—his new favorite way to receive a yes.

Fresh from the shower, Giyuu towel-dried his hair and sank onto the couch, waiting for Tanjirou. In the quiet of his apartment, an insane realization began to creep in.

He’d only met Tanjirou three days ago. Seen him in person for the first time a few hours ago. And had been fucking him until just moments ago.

To call it a whirlwind encounter was an understatement. It should have made him pause.

He was an analytical man—wired to overthink everything. His mind was accustomed to running in overdrive, constantly trying to make sense of what was happening.

So why did it feel so clear that he wanted Tanjirou?

That he wanted to try—see if he could love him, and be loved in return?

The thought should have scared him enough to shut down, to retreat into the comfort of detachment so nothing could pierce his carefully composed armor.

Because disappointment could kill. And he was just as fragile as anyone else—he just knew how to hide it better, in silence, in solitude.

Risks? He could take them. Sex? He could enjoy it, because he had a semblance of control.

But love? Love was chaotic. Painful. A bittersweet thing that was both daunting and seductive.

He carried these thoughts as the doorbell rang. His feet dragged as he hesitated to open up.

“Giyuu? I brought you something to eat! I don’t know about you, but I’m starving.”

His hand touched the handle.

“I was hoping we could have dinner. Together.”

His heart told him to have faith. Even just a little. For that person on the other side.

Giyuu opened the door, revealing Tanjirou.

“I didn’t know what you liked, but I could cook a mean sake daikon. And oh! Some desserts from the café,” he said, offering everything so effortlessly. “Can I come in?”

A question. A decision. Another revelation.

He had rejected loneliness the moment he made that first call. And it had led him to the warmth of a honeyed voice, to the heat of a body that took him eagerly.

He wanted this, in whatever form it would be.

Giyuu reached out to grab Tanjirou’s wrist, letting him fill the space he’d carved out in his shape.

“You’re six years younger than me?” Giyuu asked, disbelieving.

Tanjirou slurped his broth. “Twenty-nine and twenty-three. Isn’t that how it works?”

Giyuu ignored the cheeky comment. “You’re younger than I expected.”

“Is that a turn-off for you?”

“No,” he admitted, spoon hovering midair. “I just thought you’d be a little older.”

“Why’s that?” Tanjirou tilted his head, earrings shifting with him.

Giyuu tugged at one gently, admiring how well it suited him. “You sound mature.”

Tanjirou exaggerated a pout. “I am mature!”

He was so adorable.

Giyuu snorted, fingers trailing up to rub the curve of his ear. “Now you’re acting like a child.”

“Only because I feel safe enough to be one around you,” Tanjirou drawled, leaning into the touch. If Tanjirou could purr, he would be the closest thing to a cat.

Fucking cute.

“You love being a good boy, don’t you?” Giyuu murmured, voice husky, words dipping lower than he intended. His fingers traced a slow path down Tanjirou’s neck, slipping under his collar to uncover the bruise he’d left there. He pressed, just enough to make him feel it.

Tanjirou groaned, throwing his head back and away from temptation. “Oh god. Don’t start! I’m still sore.”

The corner of his mouth twitched. “You’ll get sore again soon. Why stop now?”

Soft laughter escaped him as Tanjirou struck him with a throw pillow.

He clutched it to his chest like a shield, as if it could stop Giyuu from having his way with him. “I want to know more about you.”

“I want to touch you,” Giyuu replied without hesitation.

More and more, Tanjirou was turning him into an honest man—a version that dared to feel.

And when Tanjirou smiled in response, that was the only version he wanted to be.

“Fine,” he said, tossing the pillow behind him. “Let’s make it interesting! One kiss—anywhere we want—for every fun fact we share. If it’s not fun, no kiss.”

Giyuu stared at him with genuine worry. “What if I’m not fun?”

Tanjirou gave him a flat look. “You’re already clowning yourself.”

He stood and pulled Giyuu up with him, settling in front of the couch. They sat cross-legged, facing each other, knees brushing.

Wine-red eyes glimmered with excitement. “Okay, I’ll start. I love cats! If I could, I’d like to build a cat sanctuary someday.”

Something in Giyuu melted, fondness threading through his chest. He nodded, and Tanjirou leaned in to plant a quick kiss on his cheek.

It was nothing like the frenzied kisses they had earlier, yet it left him just as warm—just as undone.

“Uh,” Giyuu stuttered, trying not to sound flustered as he racked his brain for something interesting Tanjirou might want to know. “I’m afraid of heights.”

“Approved,” Tanjirou said without missing a beat, flashing him a grin.

Giyuu caught his chin and drew him in. He pressed a kiss to the birthmark on his forehead, lingering there until it left a quiet, wet sound between them.

“Hmm,” Tanjirou hummed. “I love sports. Close contact, no contact, you name it.”

“What sport are you in now?” Giyuu asked, head tilting with curiosity, his hand creeping up to brush his thumb along the apple of Tanjirou’s cheek.

“Track and field. Why?”

“You’re fit.”

Tanjirou followed the tilt of Giyuu’s head, blinking at him suggestively. “You like my body?”

Giyuu leaned forward, hand dropping to smooth over his knee, fingers tracing circles over the cap. Tanjirou’s body was metal, and Giyuu’s hands were magnetized.

“Yes.”

Tanjirou caught his hand, fingers intertwining. “Good. You’ll be seeing more of it.”

They’d already done far more than this, but somehow, this simple act of holding hands felt just as intimate as anything else.

You crave softness, Tanjirou had once said.

Giyuu tightened his hold on him.

“I can’t swim,” he confessed next.

Tanjirou gasped, scandalized. “At twenty-nine? That’s unacceptable! What if you’re at sea and the boat sinks?”

“Why would I be at sea if I can’t swim?”

“That’s not the point!” Tanjirou scolded, their joined hands thudding against his knee. “You and me, beach day. You’re learning survival skills.”

“I’m surviving just fine on my own,” Giyuu muttered, turning away to hide behind his hair.

“Uh-huh,” Tanjirou said, unimpressed. “Says the man living off instant ramen and Chinese takeout.”

“Can I kiss you now?” Giyuu asked, his voice coming out far too close to a whine.

There it was—Tanjirou’s laugh. It wrapped around Giyuu like sunlight—like bright days he could keep. He gravitated toward the source, placing kisses beneath the curve of his jaw, the faint tremor of laughter still caught in his throat.

“My turn,” Tanjirou said softly, breath hitching. “Someone once told me I was the best kiss they ever had.”

The words cut through the warmth like a splash of cold water. Giyuu raised his head, eyes narrowing. “Who told you that?”

“Does it matter?”

“Yes.”

“Why?

“I’m jealous.” The admission came out more bitter than he meant it to.

Tanjirou’s eyes widened, lips pursed. “Don’t be. He was an ex. From a long time ago.”

“Still,” Giyuu continued, his other hand palming his other knee. “He had you before I did. And he was an idiot for letting you go.”

A stunning smile spread across that beautiful face. “You have me now.”

And he did. Giyuu had him here, in a room that glowed a little brighter just because Tanjirou was in it. He had his time, his smile, his touch that made the world easier to hold.

“Don’t you want to find out?” Tanjirou whispered against his lips. When did he get so close?

“What?” Giyuu breathed back, eyes half-lidded.

Their mouths hovered inches apart. Tanjirou tilted his head, lips parting wider as if to catch the breath Giyuu exhaled.

“If I’ll be the best kiss you’ll ever have.”

He didn’t need to find out. In between calls and longing, Giyuu knew he’d already stopped wanting to kiss anyone else.

The space between them vanished, mouths meeting halfway as they kissed to taste—languidly, hungrily. Tanjirou climbed onto Giyuu’s lap, legs parting until their growing arousals met. Arms looped around Giyuu’s neck, one hand playing with his long, damp hair.

Giyuu’s arms circled his torso, hands roaming over him, tracing every dip and rise of muscle. They found the hem of his sweatshirt and slipped beneath it, palms meeting warm, waiting skin.

His hands wandered over the expanse of his back—up, down, and back up again—squeezing as they went. A low moan rumbled against his mouth.

“I’m really sore, Giyuu,” Tanjirou reminded between kisses, but his hips began a slow grind—lazy eights that built a delicious friction. 

Giyuu caught his bottom lip between his teeth, tugging gently before letting go, watching it spring back into place. “I’m not doing anything.”

Tanjirou drew back just enough to meet his gaze, licking the corner of his mouth. “Oh? Then whose hand is going down my pants?”

Giyuu shook his head innocently, but his fingers were anything but.

They brushed over his hole, circling with the softest of touches.

Tanjirou’s forehead dropped on his shoulder, lips mouthing over his neck.

“I could make this feel better.” The pad of Giyuu’s middle finger settled over that tight muscle, tapping and rubbing, growing firmly insistent, but not breaching.

Hips rocked into him, clothed cocks sliding against each other. “Believe me, I would love nothing more than to have your cock inside me,” Tanjirou groaned, “But I might honestly tear.”

Giyuu licked a wet, long stripe along his throat, suckling at the skin until he reached Tanjirou’s lips, eyes dark with silent question. “Would my tongue do?”

Tanjirou blinked, then let out a small huff.

They moved in sync. Tanjirou rose and yanked Giyuu’s sweatpants and underwear down his legs—rough and impatient.

“Why are you so tall!” he grumbled, still wrestling with the fabric. Giyuu laughed, tugging Tanjirou’s own off with far more ease, unveiling the bronze glow of his skin.

Then he turned him, guiding his smaller frame until Tanjirou’s ass was on his face again. His hands trailed inward to caress the insides of Tanjirou’s thighs, easing them apart until his hole was bared to him. Giyuu exhaled, breath ghosting over his entrance.

“You really love eating ass, huh?” Tanjirou teased between shaky breaths.

Giyuu’s lips curved. “Isn’t that a fun fact?” Then he put his mouth where his cock had been.

A long, trembling moan escaped the younger man. Giyuu slipped his tongue beyond the rim, swirling and mimicking the way his cock would’ve felt inside him.

His hands slid up to grip Tanjirou’s thighs, pulling him down deeper onto his tongue. Giyuu spread him wider, cupping his ass cheeks, and moving them up and down against his face.

“Fuck, Giyuu, let me—” Tanjirou’s voice broke off into a gasp. He felt a hot breath over his stiff cock, then a hand wrapping around the base. A tongue circled the sensitive tip, licking through his slit, before he was engulfed in wet heat.

That first suck made him moan into Tanjirou’s ass.

They devoured each other with the fervor of starving men. With every lick Giyuu gave, Tanjirou sucked, his mouth inching lower to swallow him whole.

He thrust upward. Tanjirou gagged. That sinful mouth pulled off, only to come back down again, nose buried against his skin.

Giyuu finally tore his mouth away, gasping for breath. Tanjirou’s cry was cut short as Giyuu stabbed two fingers inside him. The tremor of a moan vibrated down his cock.

“You want to cum?” Giyuu asked, long fingers scissoring him open.

Tanjirou’s head bobbed.

Giyuu didn’t bother to prepare him before sliding in two more fingers, stretching him obscenely wide, as his other hand found Tanjirou’s neglected cock.

“Don’t move,” Giyuu ordered.

Tanjirou’s only answer was another hard, loud suck.

Giyuu then fucked him with his fingers—bashing in deeply, relentlessly—while his hand squeezed around the flushed head of Tanjirou’s cock.

Muffled moans rumbled around him. His groin felt slick, wetness dripping down his balls.

He didn’t care if it was spit, sweat, or tears—Giyuu kept driving Tanjirou closer to the edge. He curled his fingers and rubbed his walls, earning him a muffled scream this time.

Tanjirou’s head dropped onto his thigh, trembling. When Giyuu looked down, he saw red eyes staring back at him, tears streaking the younger man’s cheeks. His mouth was still wrapped tight around his cock, refusing to let go.

Giyuu came from the unyielding surrender he saw. Tanjirou entrusted his pleasure to him, willing only because he himself was.

He spilled inside Tanjirou’s throat at the same time he felt cum in his hands. Giyuu milked it out, letting it drip onto his shirt, onto the floor; it didn't matter.

Sitting up, he gently eased Tanjirou’s mouth off his cock, jaw slack.

Cum dripped from the corner of his lips. Giyuu pushed it back inside with a thumb.

“So good, Tanjirou,” he whispered, voice soft with reverence.

The younger man only smiled and licked his lips.

“Giyuu, you can’t waste the last day of your vacation just staring at it!”

“I could look at you instead,” he replied.

Tanjirou slapped his arm and tugged him by the sleeve. “Come on, there’s no line.”

Giyuu groaned, digging his feet against the pavement. He was taller, bigger, but Tanjirou was still able to drag him toward the flying coffin called the Death Drop.

“If I die, tell my family I love them,” he said, voice trembling slightly. The conductor snorted while securing the lap bar across his legs.

“Sir, you’re going to be okay.” With a pat on his shoulder, the conductor left to start what Giyuu was sure was his journey to heaven.

A calloused hand gripped his clammy one. “There’s a plastic bag in my pocket. You can puke right after.”

“You’re not helping,” Giyuu hissed as the ride jerked forward.

Sunny laughter steadied him as the incline grew steeper, their bodies tilting to a ninety-degree angle.

“Survive this,” red eyes glinting, “And I’ll give you the sloppiest kiss ever.”

It was the only thing that kept him from losing his mind when they plummeted to the ground. Giyuu shut his eyes and shouted curses as the roller coaster blitzed through loops—twisting and flipping them around, turning his world upside down.

Before he knew it, they were back where they started.

Tanjirou turned to him, hair wild from the wind. “Congratulations, Giyuu. You just survived your first roller coaster ride!”

Giyuu dragged him into a dark corner and pushed him up against the wall, lips claiming what had been promised to him.

“I don’t think you’re going to fit.”

Giyuu ignored him and tried anyway, folding himself into the seat of the bumper car. It was uncomfortable—his legs bent like the letter M, sticking out at sharp angles—but he wasn’t backing out now. Not after forty-five minutes in line for the only ride he’d actually wanted.

Across from him, Tanjirou looked far too comfortable and smug in his blue bumper car, one arm slung casually over the seat.

“So,” he smirked, “What do you want to bet on?”

Giyuu glared at him, his legs digging painfully into the cramped space. “We don’t have to bet on anything.”

“Ah, so you’re scared,” Tanjirou baited.

“You can clearly see I’m at a disadvantage,” Giyuu countered.

“I did tell you you’re not going to fit.”

“That’s never stopped me before.”

Tanjirou blinked, then broke into helpless laughter, snorts and wheezes slipping out between breaths.

“God, you’re so horny!”

Giyuu’s mouth twitched. “Only with you.”

Then he slammed on the pedal and sent Tanjirou’s car spinning halfway across the rink.

The blue car skidded, rebounded, and came after him—Tanjirou yelling threats and insults as he crashed through other players.

Giyuu couldn’t stop laughing either. His stomach hurt. He remembered it like all the firsts he’d had with Tanjirou since.

“Can you hit it?”

“Just tell me which prize you want.” Giyuu hefted the plastic rifle onto his shoulder, one eye closing as he aimed at the moving cans.

A warm body pressed up behind him, lips brushing his ear. “The blue teddy bear, please.”

Shivers down his neck. “You’re going to make me miss,” Giyuu warned.

Tanjirou grinned and backed off, hands raised in mock surrender.

Giyuu inhaled. Then, he pulled the trigger.

Five cans flew off their podium in quick succession, each shot landing with sharp precision.

He exhaled. Smirking, he turned.

Tanjirou was biting his lip, eyes narrowed, hands fidgeting in front of him, thighs squeezing together.

The blue teddy bear sat in the front seat of Giyuu’s car, black beady eyes watching through the rearview mirror as he pushed Tanjirou’s legs over his shoulders.

“Is this why you insisted on bringing lube?” Giyuu asked, his hand slick as he stroked himself. “So I could fuck you raw—whenever, wherever?”

Tanjirou whimpered, hips lifting, feet knocking against the window. “Yes.”

Giyuu sank between his shaking legs. “Why?”

“Because I want you,” Tanjirou gasped, back arching, need spilling from every movement. “All the time. Inside me.”

Giyuu gripped the back of his knees, pushing forward until the tip kissed that clenching entrance.

“Tell me why.”

A hand came up to his mouth, fingers brushing his lips—seeking entry. Giyuu took them in, letting tanned fingers stroke his tongue. He licked each digit until they withdrew, glistening.

Tanjirou’s eyes burned with unsated passion. “Because it’s you.” Then he sucked his fingers clean.

He needed to ask, before lust took over, and it was all they could do. 

“Do you want to love me?” 

He needed to know if someone would catch him before he fell.

He needed to understand if he could let go.

Tanjirou cupped his cheek. “Only if you want to love me too.”

Giyuu captured his lips, tongue plunging and taking those sweet sounds out of the man beneath him. It grew louder as he sank his cock into that tight passage.

“And if I do?” he breathed, once buried to the hilt.

Tanjirou sighed, finally filled. His fingers traced lazy circles over his navel, right where Giyuu settled inside him.

“Then let me love you.” 

Words failed him. Giyuu answered in the only way he could—by moving.

He fucked Tanjirou until he cried, until love sounded like sin, just the way he liked it.

He worshipped the body that wanted to love him back.

“Come with me.”

Giyuu gazed at Tanjirou’s outstretched hand, open and waiting, his eyes bright with excitement as they stood before the crystal cabin.

“Out of all the rides,” he sighed, “You chose the tallest. Why do you torture me?”

Tanjirou rolled his eyes. “Stop being dramatic! This is the best one, I promise.”

He followed, because saying no had never worked with Tanjirou all day. The cabin swayed when they stepped inside. Giyuu clutched Tanjirou’s hand as his legs trembled, eyes glued to the transparent floor.

“Look at me.”

His ears popped from the altitude, tongue going numb. Then a warm palm cupped his cheek, cutting through the haze.

“Don’t you want to see me?”

Giyuu turned toward that voice—the one he could always find, even in the dark.

Fear had no place when he was close.

Tanjirou grinned, that easy warmth that always seemed to reach into the places Giyuu didn’t let anyone touch. “See? You’re doing fine.”

His chest tightened. The cabin rose higher, the city sprawling below them. When it jerked to a stop, Tanjirou's lips brushed eyelids that fluttered shut.

“Giyuu, I want you to look.”

He first saw red, then an explosion of colors.

Fireworks erupted in the distance, bursting like scattered stars, raining light in the evening sky. It reflected in Tanjirou’s eyes.

It was full of wonder. And it only looked at Giyuu.

“I see it,” Giyuu whispered.

He reached for him, and Tanjirou drew close.

He fell harder, and he’s not afraid.

Chapter Text

Part I

His phone buzzed beside his head, waking him with the notification of a new message.

Giyuu cracked open one eye, cheek still pressed against the pillow, and reached for his phone. His hand fumbled over the nightstand until he grasped the familiar weight. Squinting, he braced himself for the harsh light of the screen.

Tanjirou: Good morning, handsome ;) 

Instantly awake, his eyes locked on the screen, fingers flying over the keyboard.

Giyuu: Good morning. Why are you up so early?

Tanjirou: Doing early prep at the café. Monday mornings and sleep-deprived corpo slaves are our biggest sales drivers, you know!

Shit. That’s it? It’s Monday already? Which means… 

Giyuu: I don’t want to go to work.

In all his years of employment, he’d never loathed work before. It had always been necessary—a way to keep moving, a way to distract from empty hours and meaningless thoughts.

He was a man of few words and even fewer interests. His hobbies were almost nonexistent, save for trips to the gym. Free time was measured in tasks on a never-ending to-do list, orbiting around meetings and ceaseless data analysis.

It was what he knew. It had been fine. It was… something. Better than nothing.

But meeting Tanjirou, being with him in just a few days, was everything.

He had never felt so alive.

It didn’t have to end yet.

Giyuu: Come here.

Tanjirou: To your apartment? Don’t you have to go back to work today?

Giyuu: Calling in sick.

Tanjirou: But… you’re not sick. Are you?!

Giyuu: No.

Tanjirou: Then why are you calling in sick??

Giyuu: So I can spend one more day with you.

Tanjirou: …

Giyuu: Sorry, I know it’s last-minute. If you can’t, it’s fine. Can I see you tonight, then?

The three dots disappeared along with Tanjirou. Giyuu stared at the screen, face tightening. He pressed on his most recent message, holding it until a pop-up appeared. His thumb hovered over the delete button, contemplating if deleting it would also erase his desperate longing for burgundy hair slipping through his fingers, for soft skin smoldering beneath his palms.

The craving for raspy moans in his ear, screaming his name at the peak only he could give.

Tanjirou: Fifteen minutes. Get out of bed, clean up, and wait for me on the couch.

Tanjirou: Nezuko’s keeping count. You owe her thrice now. 

He wouldn’t ever forget it.

Giyuu shot a quick text to Himejima, committing to his lie about getting food poisoning the night before. The moment the message was read, he tossed his phone and ran to the bathroom, already half-hard, anticipation thrumming through him.

With only minutes to spare, he sank onto the couch, hair loose and damp, shirt and shorts clinging to his barely-dried body. Fingers drummed nervously against his knee as his eyes locked on the clock.

It was seven in the morning. By now, Giyuu would’ve been heading to the place where he sits twelve hours a day, staring at rows and columns, letting numbers dictate every move.

But not today. Today, he sat aroused and trembling, completely at Tanjirou’s mercy.

Tanjirou: I’m right outside your door. Don’t look. Close your eyes until I say so.

Heat spiked through him, electric and insistent. He welcomed the darkness, every sense straining for the first hint of movement.

The smart lock beeped faintly behind him, the door swishing open. Light footsteps padded across the carpet, keychains jingling quietly in the forced hush of the apartment.

Shoes thudded to the floor, clothes rustled.

Then hands traced up along the tops of his thighs, brushing lower before retreating. Giyuu’s breath caught, knowing exactly who was all over him. He reached forward to grab Tanjirou, but the hands pinned his own to either side.

“No touching.” Heated palms skimmed up his forearms, ghosting over elbows, tantalizingly slow and gentle.

Then, short nails hooked into his skin, raking down his arms, leaving a delicious sting.

Giyuu moaned low in his throat, head dipping forward as it blindly sought lips in the darkness.

“I love seeing you like this,” Tanjirou purred. “Wet.”

Hands moved to the waistband of his shorts, sliding them down his legs.

“Breathless.” 

His legs were forced apart, wider than he was comfortable, exposed to the voice that both demanded and rewarded him.

“Obedient.”

Was he into this?

“Open your legs wider.”

He was.

Giyuu obeyed, thighs brushing the edge of the couch where his own hands gripped it tightly. He throbbed and twitched, his cock a proud monument to Tanjirou’s teasing.

“Touch or look without permission, and I leave.”

Calloused hands slid up the insides of his thighs, trailing closer to the center where he ached. Thumbs pressed into the creases of his groin, circling in firm, measured motions.

“Nod if you understand.”

Resistance and pride melted away when a warm breath swept over his tip. Giyuu gave a single nod.

And he was granted the pleasure of having his cock inside Tanjirou’s skilled mouth.

Tanjirou’s lips closed over his leaking tip, sucking with expert precision, the way he knew Giyuu liked it. His head fell back as teeth grazed his glans, tongue licked at his slit, and a hand gripped his shaft—squeezing, tugging, almost cruelly, only to let him be devoured again in Tanjirou’s mouth. Moans spilled freely, uncontrolled, and he couldn’t stop himself.

Warm skin pressed against him, a bare body sliding deliberately closer. Oh fuck—

“Let me see you,” Giyuu breathed while his cock was slowly being swallowed. It moved side to side, Tanjirou’s head shaking with a firm no.

Leather creaked beneath his hold as Tanjirou’s nose brushed against his abdomen. A groan escaped him when the tip of his cock hit the back of Tanjirou’s throat—right where it always went when he blew him like this.

Giyuu could do nothing but squeeze his eyes shut and keep his legs open as Tanjirou sucked the life out of him from tip to base. One hand slid under his shirt to finger a nipple, the other went to cradle and massage his balls.

As he lost himself in the feel of being played with, he wondered if heaven could ever feel as good as this.

Rapture was close when Tanjirou suddenly pulled back, breath ragged and heavy.

“In three seconds, I want you to look at me while fucking my mouth,” Tanjirou rasped. “Make me choke on it. I don’t fucking care. Just cum.”

Then there it was—paradise in human form. Naked, on his knees, lips swollen and wet, eyes watering, focused on only one thing.

Giyuu drew him closer, pushing himself back into heaven.

He hollowed his cheeks as Giyuu thrust and ground into his mouth, enclosing him in tight heat with no way out but forward.

Tanjirou wanted to choke, so he fucked. Unrestrained. Unstoppable.

“Take it,” Giyuu grunted, hauling Tanjirou’s head to rest at the base of his cock, nose and mouth plugged.

Hands dropped to Giyuu’s thighs, clutching tightly as air had no way in. Red eyes looked up at him—pleading, yet unyielding.

It closed in surrender as he accepted cum, throat working as he drank.

Giyuu threaded his fingers through silky hair, savoring the way Tanjirou’s sloppy mouth soaked him. A stray spurt landed on Tanjirou’s face as he pulled out, hitting his cheek. The younger man swiped a finger over it, consuming it like the rest.

Spent, Giyuu collapsed back against the couch, head hitting the cushions, chest heaving. His hand threaded through Tanjirou’s hair, stroking and massaging his scalp.

Tanjirou hummed softly, nuzzling the inside of Giyuu’s right thigh.

“As soon as you’re hard again,” Tanjirou murmured, tongue flicking over his flaccid cock, “You’re bending me over this couch. Fuck me where you first thought of me.”

Dying inside Tanjirou was the best he could ever hope for.

“Harder, Giyuu! Ah—fuck—”

Tanjirou’s face dug into the couch, leather squeaking with every hard thrust. A pale hand rose from his bruising hips to slap at his ass, already pink and tender.

“I love it, I love it, god—hit me—”

Giyuu smacked his palm between Tanjirou’s shoulder blades, forcing him further down to drive deeper, faster.

The outline of his cock protruded along Tanjirou’s stomach. He pressed his free palm against it, coaxing hoarse, broken moans. He slowed his thrusts just to feel his cock drag along the expanse of Tanjirou’s lean abs from the inside.

So tight.

“You fuck me so good, Giyuu,” Tanjirou slurred, head turned to show him an expression meant for him and only him.

Giyuu found his cock next, a finger parting through his slit, coating his tip with pre-cum. “Tell me who this belongs to.”

“Giyuu—ah!” Tanjirou’s voice climbed as Giyuu gripped him fully, moving up and down with a frantic rhythm, drawing a raw, gritty scream.

In a swift motion, Giyuu flipped him over, legs locking around his waist, cock raised like an offering, every inch of him exposed and ready.

They locked gazes, still hungry for one another. Giyuu pulled out, pressing the length of his cock against Tanjirou’s. Rocking and grinding together, their hips met in a perfect sync, moans spilling in unison.

More, he needed more.

He licked his palm, then spat below, coating both their cocks in a hot mix of spit and cum—the friction sparking wildfire between them.

Giyuu clamped one hand around them, stroking once, and knew he wouldn’t last long.

“Who do you belong to?” he demanded, voice rough and low.

Tanjirou’s breath stuttered, hips rolling against him and his hand. Giyuu pinned one hip, leaning down to trail his tongue from navel to chest—tasting, nipping, biting.

“Use your mouth,” Giyuu ordered. Three fingers then slipped inside his hole without an ounce of resistance.

“Who owns you?” he repeated, curling his fingers thickly, pulling until they caught on the rim.

“—Yuu! Giyuu!” Tanjirou screamed.

His. All of him was his.

Giyuu wanted to give him everything.

“I’ll take care of you,” he whispered in his ear, tender and sweet.

“Yeah?” Tanjirou smiled through his delirium.

“Yeah,” Giyuu returned, mirroring the grin.

Then he ruined him.

He jabbed his fingers back inside, skewering Tanjirou in harsh, rapid thrusts. At the same time, Giyuu jerked them together in a frenzied rhythm, cocks rubbing, building pressure.

It was indescribable, the sounds they were making. It was wild, too loud, too lewd for the neighbors not to notice.

Let them hear it then.

They came together, explosive and messy, cum dribbling down Giyuu’s chest, catching at his neck and cheek. Tanjirou’s head lolled, drool spilling at the corner of his mouth.

“Call in sick more often, please,” Tanjirou murmured.

Giyuu laughed softly, leaning down to capture him in a lazy, lingering kiss that left them moving to the floor, Tanjirou now on top.

Somewhere, his phone pinged—a missed call from Himejima.

Part II

Tuesdays were check-in days, meant for managers to touch base with their one-downs about workloads, well-being, and support. Giyuu rarely followed the rule with Himejima, choosing instead to bombard him with approvals whenever he got the chance.

And yet here he was, practically pleading for more time to figure out what the hell was happening.

“Isn’t this too sudden? I didn’t even know it was being processed,” Giyuu said. Though calm, his voice carried an undercurrent of frustration that was slowly bleeding through.

Himejima tilted his head. “When we last spoke, you agreed to an immediate transfer once the opportunity arose. HR was ready to make it happen.”

He remembered. But that was before he had a reason to stay.

“Can I take it back?” Giyuu asked, hating how unprofessional it sounded. But he was running out of time.

He’d only just seen HR’s email this morning, and they’d already informed his landlord of the tenancy surrender.

His last day in New York City. A week from now.

Himejima’s brows knitted in confusion. “Tomioka, we relocated Japan’s Chief Data Analyst here specifically to transfer you back. The company invested time and money because we value you as a key member of management. You said—”

“I know what I said,” Giyuu interrupted, stress making him fidget, sweat beading at his temples. “But it isn’t final, right? I haven’t signed the contract yet.”

Technicalities. Legalities. They were all that stood between him and the choice he didn’t know if he could make.

Himejima moved closer, resting a firm hand on Giyuu’s shoulder. “Rengoku already signed. We can’t take it back.”

Rengoku Kyojuro—the man promoted when Giyuu was transferred here two years ago. Brilliant, passionate, endlessly dedicated to the company. Far more than Giyuu had ever been.

A week ago, the choice should have been clear.

Work had consumed him for the better part of his life. He’d given it everything he had: every hour, every version of himself that could be molded to fit someone else’s expectations.

Now, he didn’t want to give. All because he had met a man who laughed like joy was something to breathe, who touched him without restraint.

Who loved him openly—even without speaking it aloud.

Four days. Barely a fraction of the years spent on his career. And yet enough to make him question everything he thought he wanted.

The rational part of him knew it was reckless, irresponsible even, to change the trajectory of his life for someone he had just met. Yet every argument dissolved the moment he remembered every conversation, every kiss, every shared moment of intimacy.

Tanjirou wanted him as he was. Giyuu was good enough for him.

His throat tightened at what he had to admit, “I didn’t think I’d have a reason to stay.”

Himejima’s face softened, but only for a moment, “You’ve always done what was right for your career, Tomioka. Don’t lose sight of that.”

And that was the problem, wasn’t it? His whole life had been a list of priorities that never once included himself.

He murmured his confirmation mechanically.

The day passed in a blur as he fractured inside with each passing second.

Does he leave everything behind—or stay for someone he couldn’t yet call his own?

He only opened the door, but Tanjirou kissed him like it was the best thing he had ever done.

The slow, heated press of their tongues was enough to make him hard, to do anything Tanjirou wanted. Giyuu slid hands under his sweater, needing to feel the reality of him.

“Tanjirou,” he breathed between kisses, “do you love me?”

He smiled, nibbling his bottom lip. “I do.”

Giyuu leaned in for one last kiss, then pulled away, cradling Tanjirou’s cheeks in his hands. “Say it.”

He chased his lips, but Giyuu stopped him, eyes searching for an answer.

“You say it first,” Tanjirou teased, hands stroking along the back of Giyuu’s.

“Why can’t you?” Giyuu asked, narrowing his eyes slightly.

Tanjirou blinked, “Why are you asking me to?”

“I just want to hear it from you,” Giyuu reasoned.

Tanjirou pried Giyuu’s hands from his face and stepped back.

“Why?” Tanjirou asked quietly. “Why do I have to say it first?”

“Because…” Giyuu’s jaw clenched, the words lodged somewhere between his heart and throat. “Because if you say it, I’ll stay.”

Tanjirou froze. The silence between them grew like an unpassable chasm.

“What?”

“I’m being transferred back to Japan,” Giyuu said, his voice steady but breaking somewhere beneath the surface. “It’s already been approved. My last day here is in a week.”

For a long while, Tanjirou just stared at him, expression blank. It felt unnatural to see him so still, stripped of the warmth that usually radiated from him, as if the sun itself had settled in his chest.

When the words finally seemed to register, hurt flickered across his face—raw and unforgettable. “You were going to leave and didn’t tell me?”

“I only knew this morning. I didn’t know it was still being considered,” Giyuu explained. “I applied months ago, before I met you. It all happened so fast. I just—” He took a step closer, desperation creeping in. “I needed to know if there was a reason to stay.”

The laughter he loved came out hollow. “So that’s it? You think that if I say it, it’ll make it easier for you to choose me? That if I say it, you won’t regret it later?”

He remained silent, afraid to concede to the truth in his words

“You’re trying to make me responsible for your choice!”

Giyuu didn’t answer. He couldn’t.

“You’re scared of choosing wrong, so you want me to do it for you,” Tanjirou continued, eyes burning. “You’re putting the burden on me for yourself.”

“It’s not like that...” Pathetic. He was pathetic.

“It is!” Tanjirou’s voice cracked, and Giyuu’s heart broke with him. “I thought I was enough without the words.”

How had it gone so wrong?

Giyuu reached for him—but Tanjirou was already moving further away. “You can’t ask me to say something I mean just to keep you here. That’s not love, Giyuu. That’s fear.”

He grabbed his bag from the floor, hand on the door handle.

Tanjirou was leaving.

He turned, dark red eyes shining with unshed tears. “You wanted the words, but I was already giving you everything,” his voice softened. “Stay because you want to, not because I had to prove this was real.”

The door closed quietly in front of him.

He thought he knew how to live with silence. Now it echoed with everything he’d almost had, and everything he was about to lose.

Giyuu: Tanjirou, can we talk?

Silence.

Giyuu: I’m sorry. You’re right. It was wrong of me to ask that of you. I didn’t need to hear it. You’ve always been enough. Let’s talk this out.

Silence.

Giyuu: I tried to stop the transfer, but they said it was already too late. I leave in three days.

Giyuu: Please. I tried. 

Silence.

Giyuu: I looked for you at the café, but Nezuko wouldn’t let me in. I waited.

Giyuu: Give me a chance to fix this.

Giyuu: Won’t you let me fix it?

Silence.

Giyuu: I lo—

His fingers stilled. The words hovered, incomplete, on the screen.

A drop of water splashed onto it, smudging the unformed confession. A tear. He rubbed his eyes with the heels of his palms before more fell.

It was manipulative of him to resort to this. It was bait—a plea for forgiveness. Tanjirou didn’t deserve half-measured declarations of love.

He didn’t deserve Giyuu.

But he wanted to be deserving of Tanjirou.

Giyuu deleted the message, staring at the long threads of texts that remained unread.

He had spent his whole life choosing what was logical, what made sense on paper. When he finally wanted to choose what felt right, he’d ruined even that.

And he hurt the person he loved in the process.

Giyuu: You were the best thing that ever happened to me. Those few days with you are worth more than a lifetime of empty days without you.

No three dots. Left unread. His vision blurred once again.

Tomorrow. He leaves tomorrow.

And the one thing he wanted most was already gone.

Part III

“Ladies and gentlemen, we’ll begin boarding shortly for Flight JPA81 to Osaka. Please have your boarding passes and passports ready.”

Giyuu idly stared at the planes taking off, his mind unfocused from lack of sleep and the constant, haunting thought that he was making a bigger mistake by leaving.

He twisted his phone in his hand, distracting himself from sending another unread message to Tanjirou before leaving the place where they met—where he was.

Last one. Just one more.

Unlocking his phone, he opened the messaging app.

Tanjirou: Giyuu-san, this is Nezuko. If you really love my brother, you'd better catch him here at the café. He’s here until seven before he goes off somewhere again to cry. I hate seeing him cry! As much as I want to kick you for hurting him, my brother would hate me for it. Because he loves you, okay? He’s just really hurt. And it’s because of you, in case you forgot.

Tanjirou: I’ll try to keep him here until eight. I don’t know what time your flight leaves… but that’s the best I could do. It’s up to you, Giyuu-san. What do you want?

What does he want?

Everything. Everything with Tanjirou.

He glanced at the time. Six o’clock.

Snatching his carry-on, he bolted, adrenaline fueling every step. He ran like his life depended on it. And in that moment, it did.

Passengers yelled at him to slow down as he rushed past them. Security guards were hot on his trail, warning him to stop, as he hurdled over immigration gates.

How could he explain that he was racing to reach the man he loved before it was too late?

Giyuu kept running even as his lungs burned, his destination clear. He emerged from the exit and found a waiting cab in front of him. He slipped inside, slamming the door behind him with far more force than necessary.

“Ember & Bloom, MacDougal Street, Greenwich Village,” Giyuu instructed, out of breath.

The cab driver shot a wary glance at the guards approaching from the exit. “Sir, I don’t want to get in trouble.”

“Drive now, and I’ll tip you a hundred.” Giyuu could give him his wallet if he wanted—he just needed this guy to move.

It worked. The driver slammed his foot on the gas pedal. Giyuu flinched as the guards pounded on the windows, shouting for them to stop.

“Make that a double, sir,” the cabbie smirked in the rearview mirror, greed shining in his eyes.

Giyuu looked back at him, unwavering. “Get me there before seven, and I’ll make it triple.”

Three hundred bucks was cheap for the way the cab driver weaved through city traffic. Multiple traffic violations were certainly committed as they sped through the interstate. Before he knew it, they were already in Lower Manhattan at six forty-five.

“Keep the change—you might need it,” Giyuu tossed him four hundred Benjamins before stepping out and slamming the car door shut.

Then, finally, through the glass windows, he saw him. His heart stopped.

Giyuu’s hand was on the door, pushing it open before he could even think of words.

Then he realized—there were only three words that had ever truly mattered.

“I love you!” Giyuu announced without preamble.

Tanjirou spun around, still wearing that familiar apron from the first time Giyuu had laid eyes on him. That same beautiful shade of burgundy curled along his temple, hanafuda earrings dangling from his ears, eyes that seemed to see straight through him.

And that mouth. That wonderful mouth that talked him out of loneliness, challenged him to chase deeper desires, kissed his doubts away, devoured him whole—leaving only this one truth.

“I love you, Tanjirou,” Giyuu repeated, his voice clearer than it had ever been. “I want to share a home with you, go on more roller coasters with you, spend more vacation days with you.” He chuckled at how ridiculous it sounded, but the words would not stop spilling out.

He slowly approached, setting the tray in Tanjirou's hands on the nearest table. Giyuu cupped his cheek, sighing at the first touch they had shared since they'd parted.

“I want you. I want this. I want more.” His voice held steady, confident, filled with the assurance of a man in love.

“Do you love me?” The same question that had once torn them apart now carried hope that it could finally bring them together.

Tanjirou bit his lip, unable to contain the megawatt smile spreading across his face.

“I love you. And I want you more.”

Giyuu leaned in to taste the devotion that had always been there, the love that had never left.

“Yeah, finally got the guy, Tanjirou!” someone shouted from behind.

Tanjirou yelped and stumbled back as Giyuu turned to see the blond guy who obsessively hovered around Nezuko.

“Zenitsu, shut up!” Tanjirou hissed.

“Tanjirou, introduce us to your boyfriend!” came two more voices—the girls with butterfly hairpins this time.

Tanjirou’s eyes found Giyuu’s, hopeful. “Only if you want to.”

Boyfriend. He liked the sound of that very much.

“Of course,” Giyuu said, smiling at the girls before scooping Tanjirou up by the legs and hooking them around his waist. Tanjirou gasped, wrapping his arms around Giyuu’s neck. “But Tanjirou and I still need to talk. I’ll catch you later.”

Their giggles trailed off as he headed toward the back of the café, eyes on the stairs leading to Tanjirou’s apartment.

But there was one person he needed permission from.

Nezuko waited by the cashier, arms crossed, foot tapping impatiently.

Tanjirou buried his face into Giyuu’s shoulder, trying to avoid her glare. 

Giyuu gulped. “May I know how long we have?”

Nezuko scoffed. “What would you two do without me?” She circled behind and gave Giyuu a push. “Take all the time you want. Our parents are out until noon tomorrow for a surprise getaway.”

Giyuu blinked. “Surprise?”

She winked. “Pay me later.”

Tanjirou laughed, raised his hand behind him for a high-five, which Nezuko happily returned before shooing them upstairs. Giyuu called out his thanks as they disappeared up the steps.

The moment they stepped through the Kamado residence, Giyuu spun and pinned Tanjirou to the door, shutting it firmly behind them.

He didn’t waste a second claiming the lips he’d been denied all week.

They kissed like it was the first time—charged now with love that had finally found its voice, that now flowed freely.

“You have to tell me what Nezuko wants. Money’s no issue,” Giyuu murmured, mouth trailing over Tanjirou’s neck, feasting on supple skin that gave way too easily under his teeth. He sucked at the bites he left, marking him with dark, lingering bruises.

“Later,” Tanjirou countered, pulling Giyuu back to his lips, licking his bottom lip and the shell of his ear. “What I want is for you to pound me into this door. Show me how much you missed me.”

Giyuu rested his forehead against Tanjirou’s, hands already working to remove their clothes.

“Say you love me first,” he asked as he positioned his slickened cock at Tanjirou’s waiting entrance.

“I love you,” Tanjirou exhaled, sinking fully onto him, letting gravity pull him deep.

“You love me?”

One hand braced against the door, the other cupping Tanjirou’s ass, Giyuu whispered, “I love you.” Then he drove himself fully inside in a single, forceful thrust, the door rattling and the wood groaning beneath the impact.

“God, I love you,” he moaned, face buried in the crook of Tanjirou’s neck, hips hammering, bodies moving as one, colliding perfectly. “So fucking much.”

“That’s more like it,” Tanjirou laughed, surrendering completely to his boyfriend, taking him in and accepting him, always.

Giyuu: You don’t have to wait at the airport. I’ll just go straight home.

Tanjirou: No way. I want to be the first friendly face you see when you get back!

Giyuu: Friendly?

Tanjirou: You know what I mean.

Giyuu: You’re my boyfriend. Not a friend.

Tanjirou: So cute.

Tanjirou: What are you doing right now?

Giyuu: Just finishing up some stuff for next week’s turnover. Rengoku’s done a good job holding the fort here.

Tanjirou: Still working? Your shift’s already over!

Giyuu: I’ll rest in a bit.

Tanjirou: Want me to make tonight a little less normal? ;)

Giyuu chuckled under his breath at the familiar rhythm of their conversation, remembering their first call. They’d come a long way since then.

Giyuu: What do you have in mind? 

Tanjirou: Open your door.

Giyuu stared at his phone, fingers hovering over the keyboard, about to clarify when a knock came from the entrance.

He rose slowly, hesitant, peering through the peephole.

His boyfriend stood there. Right outside. When he should have been halfway across the world, oceans apart.

He opened the door in a rush, eyes greedily taking in Tanjirou.

“H-how are you here?” Giyuu stuttered, disbelief in his voice.

A large suitcase and a full backpack sat beside him. Like he’d packed for a long vacation.

“I flew on a plane?” Tanjirou joked. When Giyuu remained frozen, he continued, “I planned a vacation for us—for your last week here in Osaka!”

Giyuu’s brows knitted. “Tanjirou, I’m still working the next few days… we could go around after—”

Tanjirou waved him off. “You don’t have to worry about that. Shinobu-san said she’ll cover all your tasks with Shinazugawa-san. Himejima-san approved!”

“What are you saying?”

His boyfriend had done so much for him since they’d become a couple. Most of it lust-inducing and pleasure-filled. Other times, it was quieter: inventing new coffee recipes just for him, cooking lunch, bringing flowers.

He was impossibly sweet.

Giyuu returned that care in his own way, with material gifts and surprises—things Tanjirou didn’t need but couldn’t help wanting. It had taken some convincing, but Giyuu succeeded with one simple argument:

He was happy making him happy.

And so they gave, and they took, each in their own way. Life had been good—so good it almost felt unreal.

Giyuu still had to own the consequences of skipping his transfer. Luckily, Himejima understood his predicament and reasons, and lobbied support for him to stay in New York, on the condition that he would spend three months in Japan as part of an exchange program with Rengoku.

He was beyond grateful it wasn’t permanent.

Giyuu was nearing the end of his commitment. He was close to going home—to Tanjirou and the place they shared. Yet here he was, receiving the best surprise yet.

“I’m saying you’re on leave for the rest of the week,” Tanjirou emphasized, each word sinking into Giyuu’s exhausted brain. “You’re officially on vacation with me! First stop: Lake Biwa tomorrow morning.”

The ring he had been staring at just a day ago had never felt more tempting.

Giyuu had reached out for a companion many months ago, and he was lucky—truly lucky—that it was Tanjirou who answered his call.

He pulled him into his arms and didn’t let go until the sun rose on a new day, where his love burned brighter than ever.