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Since the weekends are reserved for housekeeping and their gym and pool dates, Friday nights are dedicated to the onsen. No matter how much Haru soaks in his tub, it's impossible to replicate the expansive, therapeutic feeling that comes with a trip to the outdoor spring.
The locker room is quieter than usual today--just the odd grandpa and a couple of middle age salarymen joking around. They choose lockers side by side in a corner near to the hairdryers (because Makoto's hair dries in fluffy tufts and he'll never allow it to dry naturally unless they're planning on morning sex which requires a shower afterwards) to stake their claim... and all. Haru thinks he can never get tired of seeing Makoto take off his shirt because his movements are so economical and yet so elegant; there's none of the wrestle it off and throw it on the floor for him, he does it so carefully and practically which is completely unexpected for someone with his body and the confidence that he is supposed to have. Haru can't help but stare even though Makoto isn't trying to do something out of the ordinary. But of course, he doesn't dare to say a thing because Makoto would probably totally and completely freak out.
But oh, he takes off his pants and Haru is rewarded with the sight of his bare thighs, the hip bones that he loves to kiss and suck on to tease...
He has a sudden urge to turn Makoto around and kiss him square on the mouth to show the entire locker room that he's his and that he's gorgeous.
"Haru-" Makoto calls his boyfriends name absent-mindedly and glances over at him to check if he's done. And yes, he's completely naked, his towel around his neck and looking generally ready but... "Haru!" Makoto whisper-yells in mortification. "Are you half hard?!"
Haru looks up from folding his clothes to gaze at Makoto for a few long seconds, then down at himself. "Yes?" He answers like a question, an eyebrow invitingly arched.
"Why??" Makoto presses his palm to his forehead. His eyes squeeze shut, then open swirling with a mix of embarrassment, curiosity and just a touch of heat that Haru knows all too well. His boyfriend doesn't answer, just leaning on his side on the closed lockers, indulging himself by letting his eyes wander obviously, luxuriously from Makoto's strong, boyish features, down to his broad shoulders, down... down, to his hips and even further still to the lines meeting in the middle and Makoto's soft cock nestled in the short brown curls of hair.
Just looking at that kicks his heartbeat up a notch. Knowing how it looks in the bedroom, in the shower, hard and warm in his hand because of him-- the words that he uses, his body... It arouses him to no end that he is the one that can make his lover pant and moan, almost as much as Makoto himself.
"Haru-channn..." Makoto moves closer to Haru when he realises what he was staring at so he can keep his voice down and protests weakly. "Stop looking, it's embarrassing!"
"Do you think," Haru starts and gestures down to his crotch, "that I chose to be like this? Do you think I want this?" Makoto just blinks at him a few times, his eyelashes fluttering in an Excuse me? and opens his mouth to answer but Haru interrupts him with a dismissive wave of his hand. "Nevermind, don't answer that."
Which, of course, answers his own question.
After showering, Makoto gently slips an arm around Haru's waist, just above the towel that he's knotted when he has made sure that no one else is around. Haru usually protests against Makoto taking care of him in public, but this time, he leans into the expression of concern and lets Makoto guide him to the outdoor pool that is often slippery. They submerge themselves in the steaming water up to their shoulders with a relieved sigh, folding their small towels to cover their heads. Small talk and conversation about an ad Makoto saw, Haru's inability to understand the business of giggling (which his office girls have got down to an art), drift quietly between them. They gravitate closer and closer to one another, till Haru's head is resting on Makoto's shoulder and the wet, smooth skin of their outer thighs are touching. It's a clear night, with only the lightest breeze tickling their cheeks and temples. Haru looks so beautiful like this, Makoto thinks, his pale skin complimented by the moon in the sky and his dark hair blending in perfectly with the night. The lean muscles on his arms stand out when he stretches then out behind himself on the cold rocks to prevent overheating. His towel is a cute butter yellow with little ducks and geese around the edges, folded into a precise square atop his head to prevent the warmth from escaping. "Haru-chan," he murmurs softly, not wanting to disturb the quiet between them. "Mm?" Haru hums in response, with his eyes still closed. "I... really love you, y'know?"
"Mm... I really love you too." The hot water has relaxed Haru, making words easy and sentiments bubble over. Makoto sneaks his hand over to play with the back of Haru's calf, tracing the line of muscle and the delicate knob of his heel. Haru responds less subtly, letting his own fingers tease the inside of Makoto's thigh, gently dragging his nails over the soft skin and tracing little circles with his thumb.
The sound of the door opening warns them of someone else coming in to join the warm water, and they subtly shift away from each other to a suitably friendly distance. Makoto used to resent the need for them to hide what they are in public to avoid stares, but it's mellowed down to a resignation now. At least he's free to hold Haru in his arms tonight, and Haru wants him in ways he had only dreamed of. It's a good life. Haru eases himself up to sit on the rocks when he can start to hear his own heartbeat in his ears, and gently scoops up water with his hands to let it run down his chest. Makoto's eyes hold a gentle question, You okay? and Haru offers a little smile in return to assure him. 20 to 30 minutes are all both of them can stand in the high temperature, and so they head back to rinse off and dress.
Makoto prefers joggers elasticated at the ankles, while Haru wears slim cut sports pants with a white v neck tee. It's part of their routine, almost as much as it's Haru's duty to look for a tatami that's more private while Makoto heads out to the vending machines. Haru automatically starts stretching his hamstrings like he always does after a hot bath, and feels Makoto's heavier footfalls approach their spot on the tatami from where his head is bent near his knee. His cheek is suddenly shocked with a quick press of metallic coldness from behind and he automatically jerks away from the contact, losing his balance in the process and rolling over on his side with a surprised squawk. "Makoto!"
His lover stands there bent over using the back of his hand to muffle his laughter, a cold can of Orangina in his left hand and coffee in his right. "Haru-chan!" he musters out between giggles. "Gomen, gomen-" He holds the orange and dark blue can out to Haru contritely, but with humour still present at the sides of his mouth and dancing in his eyes.
"Open it for me," Haru points a finger and demands with a mock glare. Makoto obliges, of course, and proffers it to him again with such a mirthful, hopeful smile that Haru finds nothing in him to reject. After Haru has taken a swig from it, he stretches his legs out again with a quiet sigh of contentment. When Makoto giggles again, he narrows his eyes which makes Makoto try to control himself but at the same time laugh even harder. He surprises Haru by pulls his feet into his lap and beginning to rub them, massaging his toes and pressing his thumbs firmly down the arch. Haru lets out a groan under his breath at Makoto's efficient, sure strokes. "That feels really good..." he mutters, trying not to let another noise escape him. "Yeah?" Makoto responds with a quirk of his lips and presses harder on the side of his little toe that he knows always aches when Haru wears business shoes for too long. "Mm," Haru nods, feeling his entire body relax just from the attention to his feet. He's starting to get drowsy, from the warmth and comfort of the mat beneath him so he gradually pulls his feet towards himself and kneels in front of his boyfriend. "Let me do it for you-"
Surprisingly, Makoto doesn't put up a fight like he has in the past. My feet are thicker, Haru... I don't want you to be tired, or It's really fine, I'm fine, are objections that Haru is tired of hearing from the man he would do anything for, what more rub his feet. He sits cross-legged and pats his lap in invitation but Makoto blushes and carefully lays his feet on the mat instead. Probably out of concern that his legs are heavy. This guy. Haru doesn't say anything, just huffs and lifts them up, scoots forward and plops them where he wants them.
"Are you sure it's okay?" Makoto asks worriedly.
"Makoto." Haru's tone is firm, fondly exasperated, commanding. "I benchpress three-quarters of your weight. You're not gonna do anything to me." He punctuates his sentence with a particularly forceful knead on Makoto's calf that he apologises for with a kiss to the middle of Makoto's foot.
Makoto laughs then, like he's just remembering that Haru isn't as fragile as he looks. But it's hard for him to remember sometimes, with Haru's lithe frame and his bones protruding everywhere--his hips, tailbone, collarbones, wrists... He's just so finely-worked, retaining that air of boyish charm that had drawn Makoto's eyes in the first place all those years ago. His brows knit together in concentration as he massages Makoto's feet and calves. His shirt hangs slightly open at the collar when he bends down and Makoto can see the fairness of his chest, his left nipple hard from the night chill, the slight bulge of his biceps... "Haru-chan." Haru looks up at the sound and sees Makoto's chapped lips half-parted, all of Haru's heat from before transferred to green eyes now. And damn, if that doesn't make Haru give his toe a little pinch with a smile, and get up to take his bag.