Work Text:
Sharing a bed with Aotsuki Eito has its… moments.
Before Sumino Takumi realized that Aotsuki Eito genuinely saw him and the rest of the world as fleshy, porous, odious monsters, he did not understand Eito’s frequent bathroom breaks, his erratic heartbeat when he snuggled against him, and his intense fixation on daily bedding laundry. He attributed it to a few things: Eito is sick, Eito is shy, and Eito is a clean freak.
Strangely enough, those traits still exist within the Eito he knows now, if being mentally sick in the head counts for something and if being shy is more like not wanting to engage in conversation with disgusting humans.
Moments with Eito in bed are spontaneous – Takumi never knows what kind of mood Eito will be in. Similar to a cat in that regard, though Eito tells him that their cues are easy to read and Takumi is just an idiot… Maybe he can’t regularly read Eito’s mood. He tries, at least. Maybe today he will be successful, and he can lay in bed normally with Eito.
“I prepared your sleeping spot,” Eito announces as Takumi tiredly stumbles into their bedroom – actually, his own bedroom. He ignores whatever else spews out of his mouth and starts stripping in front of the other man, sliding his clothes in a pool at his feet. He is wordless, zombified. Today’s shift at Gaku and Kurara’s shared restaurant drained him making sarcastic remarks.
“Shower first, now,” Eito says, not hiding his disgust. “I am not having your old sweat and rotting meat skin rub all over my bed.”
“My bed,” Takumi responds, barely intelligible as he shuffles toward his bed, clad only in the same pair of boxers he wore during his shift.
Eito’s expression quickly transforms from disgust to horror. “Don’t you dare—”
Takumi flops onto the bed, rolling into a blanket like a burrito, and presses his covered body to Eito’s side. Only his face peeks out, half-lidded eyes and wobbly lips suppressing a yawn. Eito is stiff as a board, and his indignant stare is lost on him.
“You insolent creature,” Eito complains, “Move.”
“Move where?” Takumi asks sleepily. He lets out another yawn. “On you?”
“Are you stupid? Ugh, of course you are.” Eito jabs Takumi in the side, causing the burrito shaped man to curl in on himself and grunt in pain like a beaten up street mongrel.
“This is my bed!” Takumi wants to sound stern, hateful, anything except…
His voice catches in his throat and he whines when Eito pulls his wrapped body toward him.
Is he going to cuddle? It’s been so long since he—
The cuddle lasts less than ten seconds before Eito slams Takumi’s body down at the end of the bed. Takumi lets out a yelp, limbs flailing within the trap of his own doing.
“Don’t push me off the bed, you asshole!” Takumi shouts, his face reddening. Instead of doing that, Eito leans back onto his pillow and props his feet on Takumi’s “gelatinous form”. He’s wearing a pair of fuzzy socks and Takumi is covered in a blanket, but Eito grimaces like he’s dealing with uncovered, direct skin to skin contact. When their eyes meet, Takumi’s piercing blue eyes to Eito’s glacier gaze, Eito smirks and pats Takumi’s head with the sole of his foot. He barely flinches this time. He swears this monster shit has to be made up whenever it’s convenient to him, or just to piss him off.
“That’s much better,” Eito says smugly. He grabs his book from its spot on the nightstand and he adds, “You stay at the end of the bed like a good puppy.”
It’s embarrassing how quickly obedience sets in. Takumi stretches his limbs as far as they can go within the confines of his blanket, letting out a tired sigh. He lays languidly at the end of the bed, being used as a footrest by the other man, and he can’t help but find it calming after a long work day. If this means he doesn’t have to shower tonight for him to be allowed to stay in the same bed as Eito, it’s a win in his book. It’s better than being thrown onto the floor.
A strangled snore emits from the monster underneath his feet. Eito looks up from his book. A thin line of drool connects from Takumi’s slightly open maw to the bedsheets, and somehow this creature he calls his lover has partially broken free of his cocoon, limbs spreading like unfurling wings. He almost reached fifty pages – that is how quickly he can fall asleep. Although, it doesn’t meet his record of fifteen pages before Takumi tried using him as a body pillow, gyrating against his leg like a dog who humps everything in sight.
Eito still can’t fully believe Takumi was really asleep. Perverted Takumi would definitely pretend to be asleep to try and violate him. But the way Takumi’s body had hit the floor with a heavy thud, no effort to brace himself whatsoever, he had to admit it’s more likely than not that he was having a disgusting human wet dream.
Also, Takumi had admitted to the latter, but then told Eito to fuck off and went back to his own bedroom.
Tonight is strangely peaceful. Takumi’s snoring is few and far in between, so it’s tolerable. His mass of flesh and entrails, soaking up Eito’s cologne and laundry detergent, is easier on the eyes when he smells less like roadkill and more like Eito. The blanket certainly helps, although he’s mostly kicked that off now.
Eito stares at his unmoving form, pensive.
When did things become tolerable?
More than tolerable.
When did I start enjoying his company and ugly visage?
The idea of this hideous beast being someone he cherishes and not a means to an end…
No! He doesn’t need him. He doesn’t need anyone. That has been predetermined a long time ago. His family could not understand, the medical hospital could not understand, the psychiatric hospital thought they understood – false diagnoses, one after the other, to explain away his righteous eyes rather than acknowledge his advantage. No one listened to his knowledge of humanity’s wrongs. No one understood why extermination was the only path to salvation.
The ugly blob stretches, rolling over and pressing his cheek against Eito’s foot. He resists the urge to kick him – why am I resisting? He should wake up and feel horrible for overstepping my boundaries.
Eito relaxes the joints and muscles of his potential weapon, allowing his foot to be cuddled by this slobbering mutt of a human, and he feels sick when fondness stabs him in the chest for his charitable deed.
His sleep is restless tonight, plagued with unease and doubt.
Yet the following night Eito lays in Takumi’s bed before he arrives home from work, and the night after that, he goads Takumi into staying in his own bedroom and stinking up every inch of his space. If his tolerance is built up, starting with the monster occupying his own dwelling, his goal of annihilating every human will be that much easier.
Tonight, Takumi lays under not one, but two blankets spritzed with odor control spray to reduce the squishy feeling of his exposed flesh sticking to Eito’s skin. Eito inserts menthol nose plugs for good measure, then slips on his sleeping mask and carefully leans his weight onto Takumi, who lets out a shuddering breath. He can’t do much about those annoying sounds unless he wears earplugs, but he’s not going to obscure all his senses and let this mongrel have an advantage over him. He relaxes his body onto the other man, and he can almost pretend he’s laying on a firm cushion… a frantic cushion who claws at his back and hisses that it can’t breathe, to please move , and Eito only obliges by rolling halfway off him when he feels the body beneath him lose its fight and go lax. Takumi gasps and splutters in that shrieking whine of his – Eito leans forward and kisses the side of his mouth, satisfied when the creature shuts up but quickly overwhelmed when Takumi kisses him unexpectedly hard, climbing onto him.
“Takumi,” Eito gasps, lifting his arms to push him away; Takumi grabs his arms and pushes them down, and Eito can’t resist, he must endure. He could easily push him and break every bone in his body. He kind of wants to, the familiar nausea reminding him what he is doing and with who, but his body screams for this.
Sharing a bed with Sumino Takumi… the closeness, the intimacy of it… it is truly revolting.