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There was nothing Makishima loved more than lying on the sofa, letting his long hair dangle off the side as he watched the TV. It was honestly wonderful, feeling the tug of gravity on his green hair, head cushioned on the soft frame. To be honest, he didn’t even know what was playing on the television; some mindless comedy, probably. He could see their mouths moving, hear sounds coming from the TV set – but none of it managed to get through his head. He wouldn’t have been able to tell you what was even going on through the show. Makishima looked utterly at peace, lying there in a pair of green boxers and a white tank top, eyes threatening to close to the droning of the television set.
He could hear the footsteps before he saw him. The enormous bear of a man he called his best friend. He knew things were going to shift in tone rapidly, the way the other male was looking in his direction, walking his way. He let his head lift up from the end of the couch to peer at his friend, naked feet still propped up on the other end of the couch. He was going to disrupt his relaxation time. He could feel it.
Sure enough, as Tadokoro walked into the room, he went straight for the sofa – and picked up Makishima’s twig-like legs, moving them up and out of the way so he could sit down on the couch next to him.
“It’s time,” Tadokoro remarked, looking over at Makishima. The green-haired man looked up at his friend, eyes lingering on his shirtless form for a moment before slowly raising upward to meet his face. He gave a small sigh, reaching one of his long limbs over for the remote and casually pointing it in the bear’s direction, eyes mid-roll.
“I never understand what you find so appealing about that,” Makishima replied, pulling his legs in and sitting up slightly, a stark contrast to Tadokoro’s brawny, muscled frame.
Tadokoro shrugged before casting a grin over at Makishima. Before Makishima knew it, the inane animated characters were replaced by giant, real-life men on the television set, grabbing for each other. Professional wrestling. What was it that was so appealing about the sport to the other male? Was it the masculine overtones? Was it the competitiveness? Or was it just the blatant homoeroticism glaring him straight in the face? It was something that Makishima would never know, or come to understand about Tadokoro.
Worst of all, Tadokoro usually got really into the show. He would often watch as the giant male would leap up from his seat, shouting at the television set as if it could hear him: “Come on, Bushi! Ikuzo! Don’t let him take you down!” he would yell, to the point where Makishima wondered if they actually would hear him, all the way in whatever prefecture they filmed these matches in.
It had occurred to him to buy Tadokoro tickets to see a show; they often had seats available for sale. However, whenever he would think to buy it, they would sell out before he even had a finger on the “Buy Now” button. It was probably better that way, when he thought about it; Tadokoro’s booming voice would be hard to mask, even within all of the screaming fans. So, for now, he was fine just staying in the room.
Besides, Makishima couldn’t help but find it oddly…amusing. Cute, almost. The way the massive man was so enthralled with plots that would make soap opera writers cringe. He knew Tadokoro knew it wasn’t real – they had a conversation once before on it, where the bear insisted that he knew it wasn’t real, but it “was still fun as hell to watch.”
Makishima just didn’t understand it, to be honest. He couldn’t. He gave a light sigh, sitting up completely, tensing as if to move. Perhaps he would just head into the room to read a bit. Or even head out on his bike, ride around for a bit.
But he didn’t even get a chance to stand. Quickly, an arm wrapped around his neck and tightened, and he felt himself getting pulled into what felt like a brick wall. He made a soft yelp as he struggled against the bonds, long fingers trying to dig into the surprisingly soft hook around his neck – before it all came together.
Tadokoro was…trying to wrestle with him.
This wasn’t strange; while Makishima had never actually been on the receiving end of the attack, he had witnessed Tadokoro utterly annihilating some unsuspecting guest that he had over to watch the match. It was all done in good spirits – but Tadokoro was so massive, even a modicum of effort was still stronger than most. Makishima especially.
“Tada…koro…!” he managed to breathe out, ceasing his fingers from trying to dig into his forearm and instead slapping a hand on his shoulder lightly, three times. “Let…go of me!” He could feel his air passageways being constricted, nose filling with the other’s natural scent, completely overpowering him.
As soon as that arm had latched onto him, it was gone. Makishima gasped for air, turning around to look at Tadokoro, unsure if he was going to scold him or what. But, as he was turning around, an immense weight pressed against his shoulders, sending him down onto the couch, head banging against the arm of the sofa. “Ow!” Makishima yelped once more, eyes closing. He could feel a warm presence over him, around him, keeping him down on the couch. Tadokoro was pinning him, he was sure of it. Still enthralled with those damn wrestling moves.
And yet, he could feel a soft, wet touch to the top of his head, soft skin pressing into his hair for a moment before pulling away. Makishima slowly opened his eyes, peering up at Tadokoro – who met his gaze with a lazy grin.
“You all right down there, Maki?”
Makishima gave a small huff, somehow managing to shoot a half-hearted glare in his best friend’s direction; how could he be mad when Tadokoro was looking that damn cute?
“I’ll be fine,” Makishima responded. “But you should know by now, I’m not that durable when it comes to your strength.”
Tadokoro grinned a little bit wider. “Well…you’re durable in other ways.” Makishima could feel part of Tadokoro’s weight lifting from a shoulder – and a warm digit tugging on those boxers.
Makishima looked over at the television for a moment, watching a man pin another by keeping him pinned beneath his crotch – and he let out a small “Oh”, looking up at Tadokoro – and meeting his grin with one of his own.
So that was why Tadokoro loved wrestling so much.