Kisuke wakes the next morning with a warm, heavy weight draped across his chest.
He swallows and forces his breathing to stay even, stay calm, despite the way Erich is plastered across his body, face tucked against Kisuke’s neck and one leg slotted between Kisuke’s, thigh unbearably close to… close to…
He swallows again. Squeezes his eyes closed. Wrenches his mind away from that dangerous line of thought.
(They’re just friends.)
(They’re just friends.)
(This doesn’t mean anything.)
Erich stirs. Grumbles. Buries his face deeper against Kisuke’s neck. Seems fully content to stay where he is despite… despite…
“Ah… Erich-san…” Kisuke murmurs, unable to resist reaching up to thread his fingers through Erich’s soft hair; as much as he wants his friend to move, he also doesn’t, because when will he get such a chance again? When will Erich let him do this ever again?
(Last night was a fluke, it has to be.)
(No matter what he’d sensed, no matter that Erich was the one to drag him down and pin him in place…)
(Surely Erich doesn’t actually want him!)
Erich hums, the noise sleepy-pleased-content, and tilts his head a bit to press into Kisuke’s touch. “Comfortable,” he mumbles, lips brushing across Kisuke’s neck and making his skin tingle.
“You really aren’t a morning person, are you,” Kisuke can’t help but say, amusement bubbling up despite his best effort to squash it back. He’s always suspected that Erich is just as much a night owl as he is, but to see it first hand like this is incredible.
“Had to be one before,” Erich grumbles, one hand creeping up to tug lightly on a lock of Kisuke’s hair. “Don’t have to be one now.”
Kisuke chuckles at how annoyed Erich sounds, then bites back a hiss of surprise as Erich tugs on his hair again. “Erich-san is mean,” he pouts.
“Erich-san is being laughed at and is retaliating in kind,” Erich grumbles as he slowly, reluctantly pushes himself up, scrubbing at his eyes and yawning as he settles in place, straddling Kisuke’s thigh. He squints down at Kisuke, gaze trailing across Kisuke’s bare chest as interest-desire-want begins to bloom, slowly overwhelming the last vestiges of sleep and—
Kisuke shivers, unused to being the focus of someone’s desire, and tries to think past the need that begins to rise; yesterday was odd enough with how clearly he could sense Erich’s emotions, but this… this is more than that.
This is deeper, richer, resonating from within as if… as if…
“Erich-san,” Kisuke begins hesitantly, “are you… projecting at all?”
Erich stills, his eyes narrowing and a tiny, wry smile curling one corner of his mouth as he answers, “I am not.” He sets his left hand on Kisuke’s chest and leans in a bit, something sharp-amused-teasing in his gaze as he asks, “Is there a reason you’re asking?”
“You know something,” Kisuke accuses, propping himself up on his elbows with a frown.
“I suspect something,” Erich says, his head tipping slightly to the side and his gaze flickering to Kisuke’s lips and then away. “It’s… unlikely, but it also explains how easily we can read each other and why I couldn’t find whatever it was that Tsukabishi-san could.”
Kisuke arches an eyebrow and pointedly presses desire-longing-want against the spark of Erich nestled against his soul.
“Fuck,” Erich hisses in reaction, eyes squeezing shut and the tips of his fingers digging into Kisuke’s chest. “Don’t… don’t do that if you want me coherent, Kisuke!” he snaps, then takes a deep breath and shoves calm-restraint-patience back at Kisuke.
“Coherency is overrated,” Kisuke teases without shame. “But I suppose I will allow you to elaborate.”
“You are a menace,” Erich declares, scowling down at Kisuke despite the way amusement ripples through his presence. “But since your highness will allow me to elaborate, I will; if I’m right, that damn chalice is a very, very old ceremonial chalice meant to seal a marriage by tying the users together at a soul-deep level.”
The breath catches in Kisuke’s throat, because that means… that means…!
“Yes, I can sense your emotions too,” Erich answers with a smirk, leaning forward until he’s practically looming over Kisuke. “It’s… an interesting sensation.”
“Interesting?” Kisuke barks incredulously, then swallows at the swell of amusement-glee-fascination that rises in Erich; he doesn’t know if he’ll ever get used to feeling Erich’s emotions so clearly, which begs the question… “Is this, ah…”
“Permanent? Probably.” Erich shrugs with more nonchalance than he actually feels — and that is an interesting result, how easy it is to see through Erich’s mask with this new connection — and then smiles wryly down at Kisuke as he says, “This is something that your people had nothing to do with wiping out. It was already almost lost by then, because, well… it’s… not exactly good for political marriages. If you dislike someone, or hate them…”
Kisuke swallows at the idea of being able to feel Erich’s hate so intimately; as awkward as the current tangle of emotions is to sense, it’s at least better than hatred. “I, ah… am definitely glad you like me, these days.”
Erich hums in agreement and smooths his hand across Kisuke’s chest, his emotions settling into something almost meditative as he does. “Like is a bit of an understatement, I suppose,” he says thoughtfully, a tiny, warm-soft-helpless smile curling the corners of his lips. “Well… now it is.” He takes a steadying breath and then shakes his head, adding, “We can search for a way to break this if you want, but I… don’t know how possible it is. These sorts of bindings were almost legend when my grandparents were born, and I really don’t know much more than I’ve already said.”
Kisuke catches Erich’s hand and pulls it from his chest to press a kiss to the man’s knuckles; interest-desire-want immediately flares across their bond as Erich’s eyes go dark and he sways closer, gaze fixed on Kisuke’s face.
Really, it’s all the answer he needs.
“I think I’m fine like this,” Kisuke murmurs against Erich’s knuckles, unable to resist a smirk at the way Erich leans closer. “We’ll adapt. And think of all the fun we can have,” he teases as shifts his leg, pressing up—
Erich’s breath catches in an aborted moan. “Tease,” he hisses, yanking his hand free of Kisuke’s grip and sliding it around the back of Kisuke’s neck. “Nothing in public,” he half-threatens, half-pleads, and Kisuke can already feel the awkward-uncomfortable-uneasy roil of emotion rising in Erich at the thought.
“Nothing in public,” Kisuke promises without a second’s hesitation, pressing warmth-acceptance-agreement back. “I can’t promise I won’t have emotions,” he adds, desperately wanting to not mess this gift up and knowing he won’t be able to resist thinking things. “But I can promise to try to keep it to myself. Or… at least to not try to rile you on purpose.”
“We’ll find a balance. I just… I don’t like…”
“I know, I can feel your reaction to just the thought of it,” Kisuke says as kindly as he can, then reaches up to tug Erich closer, until the man is nearly sprawled across his chest again. “But we’re not in public right now, hmm? So there’s nothing to— mmph!”
(Erich is…?)
(Erich is…!)
(Erich is kissing him!)
Erich’s lips are warm-soft-insistent against his own as the man presses in, pinning Kisuke to the bed and kissing him senseless; there’s a wicked curl of glee-satisfaction-pleasure threading through Erich’s emotions, as if he’s figured something out and plans to take advantage at every opportunity.
Honestly, Kisuke isn’t going to complain.
He’ll do whatever Erich wants so long as the man keeps kissing him like this.
(He loves and is loved in return.)
(He never wants it to end.)
(Perfection.)