
Posted originally on the Archive_of_Our_Own at https://archiveofourown.org/
works/13488702.
  Rating:
      Explicit
  Archive Warning:
      Underage
  Category:
      M/M
  Fandom:
      Ensemble_Stars!_(Video_Game)
  Relationship:
      Morisawa_Chiaki/Tenshouin_Eichi
  Character:
      Morisawa_Chiaki, Tenshouin_Eichi
  Additional Tags:
      Kemonomimi
  Stats:
      Published: 2018-01-26 Words: 5029
****** the light in me will guide you home ******
by warsfeil
Summary
     In an alternate reality where you can own catboys and dogboys, it's
     only natural that Eichi Tenshouin will own Chiaki, the cutest dog.
     Set loosely in Eichi's second year, with Chiaki still in glasses.
Notes
See the end of the work for notes
Eichi arrives home to the sight of Chiaki asleep on the kotatsu, Gokaiger
reruns playing softly on the television. Eichi sets his school bag down as
gently as he can, stepping into his room with all the quiet movements he can
muster, and he’s rewarded when Chiaki’s canine ears twitch only once at the
noise.
Chiaki’s glasses are pressed half off of his face where he has his forehead
pressed into his arms, lower half of his body mostly hidden under the blanket
of the kotatsu.
“Chiaki,” Eichi says, quiet enough to lure Chiaki into wakefulness with a
gentle pull instead of a jolt. He reaches down, dropping a hand to the soft fur
of Chiaki’s ears and rubbing his thumb along the base.
Chiaki’s tail starts thumping even before his eyes open, an automatic reaction
as intrinsic to his being as anything else is, these days.
“Eichi!” Chiaki’s voice is still thick with sleep, but he rights himself,
leaning into Eichi’s touch. “You’re ho—o—“ The word is cut off by a yawn, and
he raises a hand to cover his mouth and then rub at his eyes. He adjusts his
glasses, placing them back over the human set of ears and pushing them up in
place on his nose. There’s wrinkles on his cheek where it was mashed into the
sleeve of his sweater. Eichi’s sweater, technically, but he’d bought it with
the distinct intention of having Chiaki wear it. He likes how Chiaki looks in
green.
“—early,” Chiaki finishes without bothering to finish the word “home”.
“It was cold enough that Keito wouldn’t allow me to stay and do any of my
student council duties,” Eichi says. He’d tried, but the first time he’d
sneezed Keito had immediately shooed him out to his car with a threat that he’d
call his parents if he didn’t go home.
Chiaki pauses in his attempts to meld his head into Eichi’s palm, twisting to
peer at Eichi with concern.
“Here,” Chiaki says, lifting the blanket of the kotatsu. “It’s warmer under
here! You won’t get sick, will you? If there’s even a chance of it, you should
take every measure to prevent it.”
Eichi slides under the kotatsu obligingly. He’s still in his school uniform,
but that doesn’t matter as much when the close proximity means he can slip his
cold fingers underneath Chiaki’s sweater and press his face into the junction
of Chiaki’s neck when he barks in surprise. The leather of Chiaki’s collar
presses into Eichi’s cheek, tags jingling as Chiaki shivers.
“E—ichi!” Chiaki doesn’t wiggle away, he wiggles closer, plastering himself to
Eichi’s body. He fits there, warm and soft in all the right places, tail still
moving in a steady rhythm. He slides his hands up, encompassing Eichi’s in his
own. “You’re freezing—“
“You’ll warm me up,” Eichi says.
Chiaki’s cheeks turn faintly pink, but Eichi knows it doesn’t take much to get
him going. That’s the side effect of being a hybrid, after all – stamina in all
the right ways for what Eichi wants, a warm body, the cute obedience…
“I’m feeling warmer already,” Eichi says, into the junction of Chiaki’s neck,
warm breath slipping across the exposed skin. Chiaki makes a noise that’s very
much like a whine, trying to move closer to Eichi when there isn’t any more
room. His thumbs drag across Eichi’s hands like it’ll convey more heat into
Eichi’s skin with the motion.
“I’ll keep you from getting sick again,” Chiaki says, and it’s cute, even if
it’s hardly something that he has any control over. Eichi can only imagine how
hard it is for Chiaki when he has to stay in the hospital, full of the smell of
antiseptic and all the things that Eichi’s human nose can’t pick up. It’s
probably even worse when Chiaki is forced to stay at home, of course, but Eichi
hasn’t been in the ICU in at least half a year.
It might be a new record.
“Good,” Eichi says. He glances back at the screen, watching the heroes on
screen with minute interest. “Are they pirates?”
“Space pirates!” Chiaki says, like it’s just about the most interesting thing
in the entire world. It isn’t, but his interest in it makes Eichi feel less
hatred towards sentai as a franchise, so it’s acceptable. “That’s Captain
Marvelous!”
“That’s,” Eichi says, raising a brow as Chiaki twists in his grip to get a
better look at his face, “a ridiculous name.”
“It’s—“ Chiaki starts, but Eichi cuts him off, pressing their lips together.
“Are you going to be that sort of hero?” Eichi asks, threading his fingers up
through Chiaki’s.
“I want to be,” Chiaki says in a slow exhalation. His eyes are bright behind
his glasses, and he’s already come so far, Eichi thinks, from the timid
creature he was when Eichi took him in. A hybrid as sickly as Chiaki was in the
beginning was never going to be an attack dog like Eichi’s father would have
liked, was never going to be a show creature or a stud like his mother would
have wanted, but he’s everything that Eichi could have desired – warm and
devoted and full of so much love that Eichi thinks it might be able to bring
him back from the brink of death.
That might be a bit too heroic. Eichi would never admit he’s thought about it
before, in long lonely nights and moments of extreme self-disgust. He doesn’t
much enjoy being the villain, but being able to come home to Chiaki helps
offset some of it, releases the tension that Eichi barely realizes he’s
carrying until the
“Are you going to be Gosei Red?” Eichi asks.
“Gokai,” Chiaki corrects him, automatically.
“You’ll make up your own series,” Eichi says. “That’s better than being in
whatever they’re in.”
“I’m going to be,” Chiaki says, his voice pitched a little louder, a little
more confident, even if he looks uncertain. Eichi can see the threads of frayed
confidence inside Chiaki, and he’s been steadily bringing it out, fascinated by
the slow transformation. “A hero that can save anyone.”
The way he says anyone, it’s very clear that he’s thinking about Eichi.
“Can heroes fix frail bodies?” Eichi asks.
“I can,” Chiaki says. “I’ll be the kind of hero that can fix every ailment that
troubles mankind! Sickness, poverty, loneliness -- I’ll find a way to fix it
all.”
Chiaki sets his mouth in a line, blinking slowly behind his glasses. One of his
hands curls into a fist where he holds onto Eichi’s school shirt, and he nods.
“You,” Chiaki says, tentative and careful, “fixed me.”
Eichi isn’t a hero. He isn’t anything of the sort. He knows that Chiaki likes
to pretend that Eichi took him in for heroic reasons, but the truth of the
matter is that Eichi wanted a pet to stay with him in the hospital. It was pure
selfishness, childhood loneliness, and Chiaki’s fragile personality and body
was the perfect combination. He was obedient and loving, and Eichi could feel
the energy under his skin, crackling to be let out if only he had the
confidence to do it.
Eichi isn’t helping Chiaki for altruistic reasons, but he doesn’t mind too much
if Chiaki thinks so.
“Did I?” Eichi asks, but he doesn’t let Chiaki answer. He turns in Chiaki’s
grasp, presses him back until Chiaki is on the ground, watches the way Chiaki
automatically lifts his hips until they brush against the kotatsu so that he
can make sure his tail is out of the way. It’s such a movement of habit that
Chiaki likely doesn’t even realize how lewd it looks.
Eichi doesn’t think that he’s worth saving, at the end of the day; the list of
sins and war crimes he’s committed is longer than he ever thought it would be,
when he started working his way to the top. The greater good feels like a well-
rehearsed lie he tells himself to sleep better at night, but it’s so easy to
slip his fingers into Chiaki’s hair, to lean back down and kiss him.
Chiaki is pliant and warm, moving his hands up automatically to wrap around
Eichi. Chiaki has always been affectionate, even when he was just a shivering
slip of a hybrid that flinched at loud noises -- he’d wrap himself around
Eichi, whine if anyone told him he couldn’t sleep in the bed, nuzzle in closer
every time Eichi coughed.
Eichi should have found it stifling. He never has.
“Your uniform is going to get wrinkled,” Chiaki murmurs when the part for
breath, Eichi’s lungs still not quite capable of mastering the skill of
breathing while making out.
“That’s fine,” Eichi says.
“You shouldn’t make more work for people!” Chiaki chastises, and Eichi sits
back, straddling Chiaki’s hips so that he can use his hand to cover his mouth
as he laughs.
“Are you the hero of justice for maids, too?” Eichi murmurs, but he slips off
his blazer, folding it delicately next to the pile of senbei wrappers that look
like they’re the product of Chiaki’s day.
“I’m the hero of justice for everyone!” Chiaki promises, and there’s a fire in
his eyes that’s always been there, that Eichi’s been slowly fanning. Eichi is
waiting for the day when it’ll be strong enough to burn him alive.
Chiaki’s fingers move up with hesitating confidence, eyes seeking Eichi’s
behind the lenses of his glasses as he moves to unbutton Eichi’s shirt. He’s
allowed, and he knows it, but the fact that he isn’t asking for permission …
well. It’s certainly a step in the right direction.
Eichi allows it with the grace expected of someone as high status as he is, but
even Eichi isn’t immovable, and the fact is that he’s still a teenager being
undressed by someone that he regularly sleeps with. He’d like to be able to
contextualize it as being undressed by a servant, but he can’t, not when
Chiaki’s hands are warm when they splay across his chest, drag down his
ribcage.
“I know,” Eichi says, before Chiaki can say a word. “I’m still too thin.”
“You need to eat more, so you don’t get sick,” Chiaki murmurs, focus on the way
the muscles in Eichi’s stomach quiver under his touch.
“I’ll eat if you’re the one feeding me,” Eichi replies, letting his eyes fall
half-lidded. When he shivers, it’s as much from the shock of cold across his
bared skin as it is from the way his body automatically responds.
He hadn’t bought Chiaki as a pleasure pet, not as anything more than a lonely
child’s loyal friend, but he’s hardly going to complain about how well things
have worked out.
He leans down to kiss Chiaki again before Chiaki can reply, which is a habit he
should probably try to break himself of, but it’s so gratifying when Chiaki
makes little noises into the kiss, shifts automatically so his glasses aren’t
in the way. Chiaki’s tail is pinned underneath both of them, but Eichi can
still feel his muscles jerk with the fact that it wants to be wagging.
When they part again, Eichi isn’t the only one breathless; there’s pink high on
Chiaki’s cheeks, and he swallows, ears twitching with how alert he is. Eichi
can feel the fact that Chiaki is aroused; they’re both aroused, because they’re
both teenagers, and even if Chiaki is a hybrid, there are some things that
genetics can’t overcome. The teenage libido is one of them.
“Switch places with me,” Chiaki says, pressing his palms into the sharp edges
of Eichi’s hips. “It’s too cold up there for you.”
“The bedroom is warm,” Eichi notes, but only mildly, because he’s hardly
opposed to Chiaki being the one to straddle his hips. The Tenshouin family is
more than affluent enough to have modern heating and air conditioning in every
room, which renders the kotatsu, honestly, superfluous, but Eichi is a doting
owner who is hardly going to tell Chiaki he can’t have it when Chiaki looks so
cute falling asleep against the surface.
Chiaki looks at Eichi for a solid two seconds, which is all it takes for Eichi
to relent. Puppy dog eyes is definitely a good term for it, and the glasses
really only magnify Chiaki’s expression instead of detracting from it. Eichi
can be strong-willed when he needs to be, stubborn and imperious, but he can’t
think of a single reason not to let bend to Chiaki’s will. If Chiaki was
capable of using his powers for evil, Eichi would be in dire straits.
He swings his leg off, over Chiaki; takes the opportunity to shove his pants
down off his hips and fold them, neatly, next to his blazer. Chiaki sits up,
scooting over to the side until he can make room for Eichi and immediately tuck
him under the kotatsu from mid-thigh down. The warmth of the kotatsu heater
only adds to the way Eichi’s body feels like it’s running fever hot, and it’s a
good thing he’s grown familiar with the feeling of arousal, or he might be
worried.
Chiaki straddles Eichi, slowly, still fully clothed. It makes an odd picture,
because Eichi is only in his underwear, chest moving with his quickened
breathing and nipples peaked with the feeling of the air on them.
“Warm me up,” Eichi demands, sounds like the little master he was when he first
got Chiaki.
Chiaki has rarely told Eichi ‘no’ before, and he isn’t going to start now. He
peels off his shirt with exactly the amount of shame you’d expect from a dog
hybrid -- which is to say, absolutely none -- and then leans back down, arms
framing Eichi’s head like a cage and chests pressing together.
It is warmer this way. Almost too warm, but Eichi doesn’t protest, just wraps
his arms around Chiaki and strokes down his spine until he meets the point at
which Chiaki’s tail emerges from his pants.
“Ah -- if you do that --” Chiaki says, voice rising to a pitch that it hasn’t
since his voice first cracked when he was younger.
“I won’t do anything,” Eichi promises, and he doesn’t do much of anything,
because it’s much more fun to push Chiaki to his limits than it is to cause
things to end prematurely..
“Eichi,” Chiaki whines, plaintive and adorable, and Eichi removes his hand,
starts to trail it back up Chiaki’s spine only to drag it back down and slip
under the hem of his pants.
“Take these off, too,” Eichi says. Chiaki shifts himself up onto his knees, and
then jumps to his feet with a lithe sort of athleticism that Eichi finds equal
parts attractive and enviable.
“While you’re up,” Eichi begins, dropping his eyes to Chiaki’s hips as the
pants come off and making absolutely no effort to hide his gaze. “Would you
grab everything we’ll need?”
Chiaki has no shame about nudity, but that doesn’t quite extend to having no
shame about sex. He stumbles when he goes to the bedside drawer, palming the
lube so he doesn’t have to look at it. The second he’s back in range, Eichi
sits up and reaches forward, draws him back down into a kiss that gets a little
messier than Eichi meant for it to -- the angle is all wrong, Chiaki’s glasses
digging into his skin, but Eichi doesn’t care.
The kiss calms Chiaki down enough that he can blink, heavy lashes behind his
glasses, and smile at Eichi.
“Lay back,” Chiaki says, tentatively, brushing warm fingers down Eichi’s chest
with a slow, loving reverency. “You need to stay warm, so I’ll do it.”
Eichi isn’t going to say no to that, when Chiaki slips a knee onto either side
of Eichi, leans until his back is braced against the kotatsu. He spreads lube
onto his fingers until they’re slick, spreading his legs wider until he can
slip a finger inside of himself, biting his own lower lip at the action.
It’s a show that Eichi has seen before from almost every angle imaginable, and
he thinks he prefers it this way, where he can see Chiaki’s face, watch the
high dusting of pink across his cheekbones. Eichi reaches up, brushes his hands
across Chiaki’s thighs, across the muscle of his abdomen, watches the way
Chiaki’s body quakes under the strain of the touches, of his position, of
fingering himself open.
Eichi leans up, presses a kiss to Chiaki’s stomach, trails his lips down to the
junction of his thigh and his hip.
“Ah,” Chiaki says, eyelids fluttering. His hips jerk automatically, and Eichi
narrowly avoids being hit in the face with his cock. Not that Eichi would mind,
but Chiaki would likely be too embarrassed to function, and Eichi has no desire
to see this end in any way except both of them having a happy ending.
“S-- sorry,” Chiaki manages, and Eichi presses a kiss to the side of Chiaki’s
cock like a reassurance. Chiaki makes a noise, drawn out consonants and vowels
that don’t quite make a word, raised on the end like a yip.
“You don’t need to apologize,” Eichi murmurs, and he looks up at Chiaki. Chiaki
is all flushed skin and wide eyes, lip swollen from where he keeps biting it,
and the sight of it all makes Eichi’s cock throb with the desire to be buried
inside of Chiaki.
“I’m,” Chiaki starts, then stops trying to reground himself. He reaches down to
grasp at Eichi’s cock, instead, the words ready dying on his tongue before he
can get them out, and Eichi isn’t going to complain about something like that
with the sticky embrace of Chiaki’s hand wrapping around him.
“I’ve got you,” Eichi murmurs, and shifts his position. Laying back against the
floor isn’t exactly the way that Eichi normally likes to fuck Chiaki. There’s
less room for Eichi to move, and it’s harder to thrust his hips to get his own
rhythm going, but at the same time… it’s undeniably erotic to watch the way
Chiaki slides himself down on Eichi’s cock in a slow, stuttering motion,
expression on his face changing at the feeling. It’s the same tight, hot heat
that it always is, overwhelming and sweet, and Eichi groans as Chiaki settles.
Chiaki’s hips twitch in minute movements as he adjusts to the feeling. Eichi
isn’t exactly small, but Chiaki has had countless times to get used to the
feeling of it. He doesn’t think it’ll take Chiaki very long.
Eichi can feel the fur of Chiaki’s tail brushing against his leg, moving in
little jerks, aborted gestures of Chiaki’s pleasure as he tries to gain control
back over his reactions.
“You feel amazing,” Eichi murmurs, appreciative and low, squeezing Chiaki’s
hips and watching the way Chiaki’s eyelids flutter. “You’re doing this all for
me.”
“Because,” Chiaki says, and his voice is high, breathy, coming apart at all the
seams. “Because I love you -- “
Eichi’s grip tightens, the words washing over him with almost as much warm
pleasure as the feeling of himself buried inside Chiaki.
“You’re supposed to save words like that for the climax,” Eichi says, but he
can’t bring himself to mind. Declarations of love are just how Chiaki is,
overflowing with affection at all times. Even when Chiaki is unsure of himself,
faltering in the face of something bigger than he is, it seems like he’s always
capable of falling back on his love for Eichi. Eichi doesn’t understand it, not
really, doesn’t think he could rearrange himself to be that good of a person,
but being in Chiaki’s presence is almost like basking in a small sun, and it’s
the closest Eichi thinks he could get without burning.
Chiaki can’t reply, not with words. His hands scrabble across Eichi’s stomach,
trying to find a safe place to grab, and Eichi grabs them, directing them up to
his shoulders. Chiaki locks his arms around Eichi’s neck as Eichi sits up,
pressing Chiaki’s back into the kotatsu with enough force that it skids a half
inch backwards. Chiaki lets out a ragged noise, half yip and half moan,
fingertips pressing into Eichi’s skin. Even now, holding onto Eichi, he’s
careful not to use his nails.
“I’m not cold anymore,” Eichi promises, because even if Chiaki can’t quite get
the words out, it’s the sort of thing that Chiaki would worry about. Really,
though, it’d be impossible to feel cold when Chiaki’s arms are around him, when
Eichi is buried so deep inside of him that it feels like he was made to be
there.
“I’m,” Chiaki says, his voice shaking and breaking off before he can finish the
thought. He swallows, closing his eyes, ten points of pressure on Eichi’s back
where he’s gripping so hard with his fingertips that his knuckles must be
turning white. When he opens his eyes again, there’s that steel in them -- a
hero’s resolve, or something like that…? It feels filthy to be making
comparisons like that when Chiaki is riding his cock, but Eichi likes the idea
of being the one to filthy a hero. “I’m ready--”
“Then move.” It’s a command falling from the lips of the Tenshouin heir, so
accustomed to getting his way that the idea of not being obeyed doesn’t even
occur to him. Not for nothing, because Chiaki raises up on trembling thighs,
knees pressed against the floor, starting up a rhythm that leaves him gasping.
“Chiaki,” Eichi murmurs, pressing his lips to Chiaki’s collarbone and tasting
the sharp tang of salt on Chiaki’s skin. Chiaki whines, desperate and needy,
and Eichi can feel something starting to come undone inside of him. Chiaki
might be a dog, might have the proof of it in his tail and his ears and the
collar around his throat and the microchip just under the skin of his shoulder,
but it’s time like this that Eichi thinks there isn’t so very much separating
them.
Eichi presses Chiaki further back, reaching down to lift his legs until they
wrap around Eichi’s waist. Chiaki cries out, high and loud enough that Eichi is
certain the servants can hear -- but it wouldn’t be the first time, and they
know better than to enter Eichi’s rooms without permission. The change in
position makes Chiaki squirm until he’s flat against the surface of the
kotatsu, Eichi refusing to fully pull out, and Chiaki chokes on a moan when
Eichi leans down to kiss him, trapping Chiaki’s cock between the two of them.
“Eichi,” Chiaki moans, and there’s the faint touch of nails against Eichi’s
skin when Chiaki moves his hands, tangling his fingers into Eichi’s hair
without pulling on a single strand. Eichi doesn’t mind pain, thinks he could
even enjoy it, if it was from someone he loved, but he knows with certainty
that Chiaki would never cause him harm even if Eichi wanted him to. It’s one of
the more endearing things about Chiaki.
The way that Eichi presses into Chiaki is almost animalistic, thrusting into
him with a pattern that’s erratic at best. Chiaki is beautiful, spread out on
the table, a flush all the way from his cheeks down his chest. His ears twitch
with every thrust Eichi makes, and his tail is nearly trapped by the table,
saved from being uncomfortable only because of the grip that Eichi has on his
hips. There’s going to be bruises later, on Chiaki’s hips, something for Eichi
to trace over when they go to sleep and feel Chiaki shiver with memory at.
Chiaki is repeating Eichi’s name, each one caught at the end as he groans with
the feeling of it. Eichi doesn’t touch Chiaki’s cock, not yet, not when he
knows that Chiaki’s stamina can well outperform him, these days. They’re both
teenagers, and Chiaki has the benefit of being healthier. Eichi doesn’t like
being at a disadvantage for anything, but something like this he finds more
easy to tolerate.
Reaching up, Eichi presses his fingers to the side of Chiaki’s collar. It isn’t
based in a desire to choke him, just feel the reassuring weight of the leather,
feel the metal of the tags that’s been heated by Chiaki’s skin, remind himself
that Chiaki could take it off any time but doesn’t, doesn’t have a single
thought about abandoning Eichi. Chiaki turns his head into Eichi’s hand,
automatically seeking his touch, rubbing his cheek against Eichi’s skin as his
eyes flutter closed.
It pushes Eichi over the edge, and he leans down to bury himself into Chiaki as
deeply as he can manage, pulling a strangled noise from Chiaki underneath him.
It isn’t fireworks or lightning or any of the thousand ways that Eichi has seen
orgasm described -- it’s just the overwhelming feeling that this is right, that
this is where they both belong, that so long as Eichi has Chiaki, nothing can
hurt him. For a moment, Eichi is immortal: timeless and transcendent, existing
in a place with only the warmth of Chiaki’s body and the smell of sex in the
air. His body tingles like it isn’t really his.
It’s something like autopilot when Eichi moves his hand, reaching around to
wrap his fingers tight around Chiaki’s dick. He doesn’t bother to pull out,
knows that the feeling of himself still inside Chiaki is going to help matters.
Chiaki isn’t managing words anymore, can’t manage much more than the first
syllable of Eichi’s name, panted over and over again while his fingers jerk.
One hand comes out of Eichi’s hair to smack against the wood of the kotatsu,
and his nails finally scrape against something, dragging along the varnish
without doing any damage.
“Ei-- Ei--”
“Chiaki,” Eichi murmurs, pressing his lips to Chiaki’s collar, to his chin, to
his lips. “I love you.”
There’s a reason that Eichi thinks words like that should be saved for the
right moment, and it’s because it makes Chiaki come, loud and keening, spilling
over Eichi’s palm and arching his back. He squeezes around Eichi’s cock, and
Eichi bites lightly at the junction of Chiaki’s jaw to distract himself from
the fact that it feels a little more uncomfortable than he’d like,
overstimulating when his nerves feel so raw.
They lay there for longer than they should, probably. Eichi knows better than
to let the sweat cool on his skin, than to let things dry, than to let his
muscles start to stiffen, but it’s so hard to convince himself to move when he
can feel every breath Chiaki takes underneath him, when Chiaki’s thumb is
rubbing into the base of Eichi’s neck in an absent minded gesture of comfort.
Chiaki breaks the silence, finally, letting his gaze fall onto Eichi’s.
“There’s a bath,” he says, reaching up and taking off his glasses, cleaning
them off with an edge of the kotatsu blanket. “You can’t get cold.”
“Mm, it’ll still be hot, if you thought I was going to be late,” Eichi says,
and summons every remaining bit of willpower he has to push himself up off of
Chiaki and pull out properly. They’ve certainly made a mess of the kotatsu, but
it isn’t for the first time, and Chiaki is good at diligently cleaning,
insistent that they not make things harder on the hired help.
Eichi offers a hand to Chiaki, who carefully pulls himself up without actually
putting any weight on Eichi, getting to his feet in an enviable fluid motion.
Sometimes, Eichi finds it absolutely astounding how much sheer energy Chiaki
can have.
“Aren’t you sore after all that?” Eichi asks, and there’s a hint of worry in
his voice. He reaches up to brush his bangs back out of his face, getting to
his feet with a much less graceful maneuver and allowing Chiaki to link their
fingers together once they’re both standing.
“If it’s from someone you love, then this sort of discomfort isn’t anything!”
Chiaki replies, and the smile that he gives Eichi makes Eichi’s stomach drop in
a way that isn’t wholly unexpected, but still surprising. “It’s like leaving
your impression on me to entwine our fates!”
“Is it like that?” Eichi asks, even as he steps towards the bathroom with
Chiaki’s hand in his.
Chiaki looks at him with an expression so cutely put-out that Eichi can’t help
but want to bully him more, to tease him, to see what happens when Chiaki can’t
think of a good comeback.
“I think our fates have been entwined for more than just that,” Eichi offers,
before Chiaki can start in on a tangent about fate. Eichi is already tired. The
fact that he exerted himself after a full school day is unavoidable, and even
if it wouldn’t hurt someone normal, it’s certainly enough to wear him out.
“You’re the one who gives me the strength to keep going, so of course it’s fate
that we met,” Chiaki says. The bathroom is warm when they step inside of it,
the water still steaming, and Eichi finds himself thankful, not for the first
time, that he’s wealthy enough to afford a bath that will keep itself at a
steady temperature. “If it had been anyone else, I would certainly have given
up and let myself crumble -- but because you found me, I can become a hero
worthy of saving you!”
Eichi lowers himself into the bath, sitting carefully and letting the heat of
the water immediately start to work on his muscles. He holds his hands out for
Chiaki, who hesitates.
“I should clean up--”
“A hero who burns as hot as you,” Eichi replies, calmly, reaching back up to
take Chiaki’s fogging glasses off so he can look into his eyes, “should
definitely be in the bath with me, just to make certain that I’m warm.”
Chiaki relents almost immediately, letting Eichi take him by both hands and
pull him into the bath.
“I’ll stay close to you,” Chiaki says, moving into place next to Eichi until
their shoulders are touching. “And keep you warm enough that not even sickness
can touch you.”
“My hero,” Eichi offers, and quietly delights in the way Chiaki’s cheeks
immediately turn pink.
End Notes
     alternative title: "shit, i should have had him come on chiaki's
     glasses!"
     written as a commission! hmu @gaybolgs on twitter for more wild porn
     antics. and also catboys.
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