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He was supposed to be in training.
That was the first thing that crossed Feliciano’s mind that morning. Not that he, Feli, was supposed to be in training – the man lying beside him was supposed to be in training. Pale, creamy skin framed by jet black locks – yes, Kiku Honda was supposed to be in training… so why was he here..?
Well… thinking back to that drunken night, he could faintly recall stolen moments in the bathroom stall, hands against thighs, sweaty palms flat against smooth skin and – and broken English, promises to never leave. Now he knew why Kiku Honda was here, laying in Feliciano’s soft bed, rather than outside training. They’d… they’d had sex.
And Dio, it was beautiful. He’d been ravished so thoroughly, yet held so gently, and still… he couldn’t remember why they’d done it.
Thinking further back, he couldn’t recall any provocation – just the alcohol, and a party, and Feliciano didn’t do well with memories when alcohol was involved.
He supposed it was alright, then – it wasn’t bad, it couldn’t be a bad thing, if Kiku Honda was laying in his bed instead of training.