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“Tell me to kiss you,” Haruka murmurs, one hand on his chest and another on his jaw, mouth so tantalizingly close to his that Kantarou can feel the vibrations against his lips. So close the slightest miscalculation of movement- deliberate or otherwise- could close the distance and render the command useless.
“I can’t do that,” he lies.
In truth, there are very few things he wouldn’t do, given the right circumstances.
“It won’t work,” Haruka reminds him. “You know it won’t work.”
“But-“
But that’s not the point, and we both know it.
“Just do it.”
The right circumstances to do the wrong thing.
He closes his eyes, carefully unspooling all the tightly-wound mental defenses he’s placed to ward against this exact scenario. Tries to convince himself that demonstrating that he doesn’t trust Haruka to ask only for the things he truly wants would be worse than erasing the only line he’s never let himself cross.
He opens his eyes. Haruka’s still staring him down, mouth parted just enough for his fangs to show, dark eyes hungry for something Kantarou can’t quite place.
“Haruka,” he says quietly, “Kiss me.”
A thrill runs through him, terror and excitement in equal measure. He wishes it were only terror, wishes he hadn’t dreamed of this exact moment for decades.
Haruka moves in even closer, hot breath ghosting against Kantarou’s lips.
“Fuck off,” he says, and tilts Kantarou’s head to bite at his earlobe instead.
The whimper Kantarou lets out has very little to do with the pain of the sharp fang breaking his skin.
Haruka pulls away, smiling as he licks a drop of blood off his mouth. As he turns and walks away, leaving Kantarou gasping behind him, he looks quite pleased with himself.
At least that makes one of them.