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Suzuki silently stood by the door to the backyard, leaning idly on its sturdy doorframe while staring off into the distance, even though he couldn't see much. For where sun would normally shine in, bathing his house in brilliant golds, there was relentless rain instead, pelting against the windows mercilessly.
He didn't particularly love the rain, it was in his blood to naturally prefer the searing heat of Cuba, bearing down on dry beaches and glinting off of crashing waves. Upbeat music would be playing in the background from someone's speaker, and visitors would frolic, carefree along the coastline, yelling in Spanish to each other. Suzuki could imagine it in his head, dancing on the beach to his heart's content, splashing in the sea, grabbing his partner's hand and pulling him in—
He was taking care to be quiet, now. Sugiki had just managed to fall back asleep. The previous night, the Grim Reaper of Blackpool had turned up at his house, holding a bottle of Suzuki's favourite alcohol, dark circles under his eyes, and yet a fond smile on his lips. He had foolishly indulged him and they had taken turns drinking the whole bottle before Sugiki promptly passed out on his living room table, a testament to how tired he was.
Over the course of that night, the standard dancer had been twisting and turning in Suzuki's bed until morning broke and the rain came and Suzuki woke up to find him sitting on the edge of the bed, head in his hands, looking, in the most basic sense of the word, miserable. It was the first time he had seen him in a such a state, for the Sugiki he knew was usually disciplined, strict and all terms under that umbrella (though Suzuki had experienced first-hand how he is when otherwise). As a result, he had forced Sugiki back into bed, stayed with him until he was sure the man was well-asleep, before sneaking off to where he is now, watching the rain out of boredom.
However, it seemed that his efforts were in vain. Quiet footsteps padded down the corridor from the bedroom, yet Suzuki didn't bother turning around, focusing on a particular raindrop sliding down the window rapidly, colliding with another, and ending in the bottom-most groove.
The footsteps stopped directly behind him. Hands that once held his in a tight grip slid around his waist, settling gently against the exposed tanned skin of his stomach. A sharp chin hooked over his shoulder, warm, shallow breaths ghosting Suzuki's neck, sending goosebumps down his spine to his toes. Sugiki's body, slightly heated from just waking up, pressed against his back insistently, fitting like a perfect puzzle piece.
"Where were you?" The words were murmured into him hoarsely, and Suzuki felt soft, dry kisses being placed along his jawline, tracing down the column of his throat and to his shoulder, leaving a burning trail of sensation in their wake. Who knew such a stern man could be like this, though Suzuki probably should have expected it. Sugiki had quite the facade built up, but once you broke through, you would find that there would be nothing left but a raw, tender heart that had too much love to give but never a proper outlet to do so. One that was easily hurt and scarred, causing it to be frosted over for the sake of protecting itself from the harsh critiques of the world. Always 2nd place, fated to never overcome that narrow margin between him and Giulio, the infamous Grim Reaper of Blackpool, limited by something as trivial as love, always on the verge of being exemplary but never quite enough—
"Here." Suzuki answered simply. He let Sugiki pull lightly at his loose collared shirt, baring more skin for him to kiss at.
"Mn." A half-hearted hum, a harder kiss. He twitched.
"You're stuck in your head again." He mumbled pointedly. The kisses stilled, and Suzuki knew he had touched a vulnerable spot, not exactly jabbed at it, but it was definitely a curt poke. Instead, Sugiki just rumbled and moved on, distracting himself by making it his mission to cover Suzuki's neck and shoulder in kisses.
A few minutes passed, and Suzuki already couldn't take it. He likes it, sometimes, when Sugiki has a rare moment of being docile and soft, but this was the wrong kind. It seemed whatever he was doing was on autopilot, like his mind was disconnected from his body, his movements stiff, nothing like the fluidity that dancers are required to have to reach the top. He had to do something.
In a split-second decision, he grasped Sugiki's hands, spinning him around and crashing them both into a nearby wall. Suzuki firmly laced his fingers with his, pressing them unforgivingly into the hard concrete as he leaned in, his other hand gripping the back of his rival's head, hand tangling in raven strands and tugging.
Sugiki's head was craned back at the motion, and he could get a clear view of the other's eyes. They were half-lidded, heavy and fogged with fatigue. Suzuki fought against the feeling to look away, instead, he surged forward, lips clashing with his in a mess of teeth and tongue. He bit and pulled, putting his intent into his actions.
Even disoriented, Sugiki could easily keep up with him, matching him pace for pace, kiss for kiss. It was not long before a hand buried itself in his own blonde locks and gripped desperately as Suzuki devoured him against the wall, grasping at whatever he could reach. The standard dancer let out a subdued sound as Suzuki nipped teasingly at his bottom lip, and before the other knew it, Sugiki had started pushing them away from the wall, taking control steadily.
He clutched the lapels of Suzuki's shirt, pulling him towards the couch, yet never straying too far from his lips, always returning, like when they danced together.
Suzuki was shoved onto the couch, getting the wind knocked out of him and his necklace flying into his face. Sugiki was on him barely a second later, not letting him take a breath as he returned to capturing his lips, arms beside Suzuki's head and knees on either side of his hips, effectively caging him into the couch.
This was the Shinya he yearned for, Suzuki thought subconsciously, his heat-addled mind racing as teeth ventured down his neck, tearing at the tender skin there. This wonderful, wonderful man, full of passion, life and possessiveness, but gentle, dare he say kind and caring all the same.
He was never one for being submissive for too long, though, the blood in his veins pulsing to shift, get on top.
This was probably why he was a shitty follower.
Suzuki wrapped a hand around Sugiki's wrist, hooked his foot around his ankle, and using the power in his hips, twisted, pivoting their combined weight and reversing their positions.
Sugiki landed beneath him with a grunt, and Suzuki slid his fingers along the side of his cheek, cradling his face. He hovered close to him, his forearms being the only thing keeping him from falling flat, faces mere millimetres away from each other. The only sounds were the rain pattering against the house, distant thunder, and their laboured breaths, mingling in the small space of shared air between them.
Suzuki gave into the urge to press a lingering kiss to Sugiki's lips, then his cheeks, his forehead, his eyelids, his nose and finally, a last one on his lips again, as if saying,"I'm here, you can rest your mind with me. You don't need to wear your mask in my presence. Get out of that fucking head of yours and come back to me, Shinya."
With that, Sugiki fell limp, chest heaving and head lolling to the side wearily. When Suzuki realised he was not about to fight back, his tight body relaxed slowly, tension bleeding out of him like water being poured out of a cup. He sagged, his head resting on Sugiki's shoulder, recollecting himself in the form of deep, controlled breaths.
"Are you good?" Suzuki asked quietly, voice muffled by the couch. A tired "mmph" was the response, vibrating throughout his body as he draped himself cautiously over Sugiki, careful not to crush him, though that was pretty unlikely.
They ended up facing each other on their sides, Sugiki's face buried in Suzuki's shoulder and the said man holding him close, his nose pressed into the other's raven locks to breathe him in. The familiar scent of that fancy shampoo Sugiki uses, coupled with the soft fragrance of fresh morning dew and the slight musk of sweat settled the last remnants of wildness in him fully. Suzuki clutched him even tighter, if that was possible.
"I'm tired." Vulnerability shone through the cracks in his partner's armour moments later, "I'm so tired."
Suzuki's heart ached, but all he could do was hope that his arms were enough to hold Shinya together, offer a safe space, and maybe control, just for a little while.
"Sleep, then." He hummed soothingly, "Or don't. I'll be here either way."
And as Shinya melted into him, eyes finally drooping close from the result of sleepless nights, Suzuki eyed the sky outside slowly starting to clear up, the first vestiges of sunlight filtering through gloomy clouds and spilling into the house, filling every nook and cranny with their everlasting glory.
-fin-