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Momijikawa loved seeing Sakura like this; relaxed, coy smile on his face, lean muscular body practically being swallowed by his t-shirt that was several sizes bigger than Sakura’s usual size. The sight ignited something raw in him. A burning desire to have that beautiful man all to himself.
Of course, he’d never say it out loud. He knew his awkward boyfriend would get flustered—too flustered to do any of the things that Momijikawa was definitely interested in doing himself.
Sadly, keeping his silence was not a choice when Sakura drew back from their kiss and began stripping himself off. So, as tactful as possible, Momijikawa reached out and caught his boyfriend’s forearm.
“Wait!”
Sakura glanced at him with a questioning gaze. His hand hung midair awkwardly as Momijikawa struggled to verbalize his request.
“Just… J-Just keep it!” Momijikawa stuttered, heart beating fast, cheeks coloring a little at his own words.
Those mismatched eyes frowned at him, seemingly genuinely confused. “Why? I…I thought we’re gonna… Y’know…” Sakura gestured, almost embarrassed, and then blurted out for the lack of word choice, “Sex—fucking, whatever.”
“Yeah, that’s not—um. I mean, yeah, of course.” Momijikawa wet his lips nervously. “But, uh, could you just, maybe, keep that shirt on?”
“Huh?”
Sakura’s gaze darted downwards, following the line of sight of his boyfriend, before his own eyes widened.
“It’s your shirt,” Sakura uttered slowly, each word dripping with realization, “You like seeing me in your shirt.”
That was not a question.
Having no choice but to admit it, Momijikawa finally released Sakura’s arm from his grip. He sheepishly rubbed his neck and said, “Yeah. I guess… I guess I do.”
His coy confession, however, was cut short when he looked back to check his boyfriend’s reaction and found Sakura scowling at him. It hit him like a cold splash.
“Tch, weirdo! You fucking pervert!”
Momijikawa blanched in shock. “What?! I…I didn’t, I never even had any weird fantasy about it! I just thought you looked cute!”
But then the tension suddenly evaporated. Sakura’s previously sharp glare melted quickly into a stifled laughter, lips twitching and all.
“Relax,” Sakura said breezily, “I was just messing with ya.”
“Hmph! You got me there,” Momijikawa grumbled, face flushed red after his own dramatic overreaction dawned on him. “But, Haru, that was a bit too much! Don’t just randomly accuse me like that again!”
Sakura groused defensively, “I mean, you pranked me first with that spicy omurice this morning, so now we’re even!”
“But my prank was just a silly prank! I’d never make you feel bad about yourself in any way!”
This time, Momijikawa’s words hit Sakura in a different way. Sakura’s gaze softened before he relented, “Fine. That… That was a bit too far, yeah, you’re right. Sorry, I didn’t mean to be a jerk and make you feel bad.”
The sincere apology put a smile back on Momijikawa’s face. “Nah, Haruka, you’re too kind to ever be a jerk.”
Sakura huffed a soft laugh, blush dusting his cheeks. “No, seriously, let me make it up for ya.”
“There’s really nothing to make up for, Haru—”
“Yes, there is!” Sakura insisted.
Momijikawa suddenly found himself being manhandled onto his back, staring right at Sakura’s piercing gaze that was filled with emotions—lust, desire, fondness; all the things that had been swirling Momijikawa’s own mind.
“Sakae…” Sakura murmured his name, “We’re still doing this, right…?”
The question was phrased carefully, quietly, as if there’s any possibility for Momijikawa to run away from the enticing tension in that heated room. As the man in love he was, Momijikawa sighed softly and relaxed in Sakura’s arms.
“Yeah, Haruka. I want you. Always.”