[500 Themes: 291]
Kotetsu can't help but think about Barnaby.
It's all the more prominent when Barnaby disappears to the day – off to some conference or photoshoot, Kotetsu can't remember which – and he is left alone, lurking about in the house, lazing on the couch and thinking.
Strange, how attached he's become – or perhaps not strange at all, what with how he smiles every time he thinks of the blond, how something tugs and twists in his chest at the thought of ever being apart from him. Kotetsu knows that man would always catch him – figuratively and literally – no matter what happened, and that's an allure in and of itself: to have someone else carry weight for once, and carry his weight, which is something he's never, ever been comfortable allowing another person do.
Ah, and Bunny's cute. Can't forget that, especially when he's busy slaving over fried rice.
Kotetsu cracks a smile, fingers the pin tucked into the pocket of his shirt before drawing it out to roll it between his fingertips, to bring to his lips and absently kiss the back of it. Bunny keeps his own pin on his person at all times, too – and ah, if that doesn't feel like some sort of a promise. The last time he felt something like that -
A hard swallow, and Kotetsu wishes Barnaby were home. Now.
He wishes Bunny where there for him to grab, sink his fingers into, drag him down and kiss him. He actually sort of likes that the blond is taller than him – never mind the long legs, though he certainly loves looking at them; Kotetsu likes most of all the feeling of being able to stretch up, to reach for someone and be reached back for, grasped, dragged close, held.
Kotetsu wants Barnaby there so he can kiss him, so he can touch him, run his fingers through his hair and down his back. He wants Barnaby there so he can bite at his neck, his shoulders, sink his teeth into that pretty, pale skin as he shoves Barnaby down – or as Barnaby shoves him down, he doesn't care which, so long as they're close, so very, very close, all slick skin and tangled limbs and grabbing, fumbling, needy hands.
It's why he doesn't wait as soon as Bunny's through the door. He needs his mind elsewhere, needs his mind focused on nothing but Barnaby – needs the man's hands on him and body against him – and so he makes it happen, Barnaby's back hitting the door as soon as its shut, his coat shucked the floor and Kotetsu's lips hot and eager against him.
He thinks Barnaby utters a protest for all of a moment, but it's quickly forgotten when Kotetsu twists his hands into blond curls, yanks him down into a harder kiss, and Barnaby groans, lurches forward, drags his hands down Kotetsu's spine and settles them upon his hips before slinking lower still, long fingers kneading into Kotetsu's ass and making him hiss, arch, growl.
Another reason why he wants – needs this man is because Barnaby knows, doesn't even have to ask, and shoves Kotetsu backwards, fumbling with the buttons on his shirt without stopping their kisses. Kotetsu's on the couch before another push is needed, grabbing at Barnaby's collar and using that as leverage to pull him down with him, kneeling between his thighs.
Everything is hurried, everything is hot, desperate and almost rough with the way clothes are strewn aside, with the way Barnaby's nails bluntly rake over his flesh like claws, with the way he sucks and bites at the bobbing of Kotetsu's adam's apple with every hard swallow. Kotetsu wants to bite him, wants to mark him, but he's far too distracted with what Barnaby's hands are doing to him, fumbling in a nearby drawer for lube and suddenly slick and long and perfect, wriggling inside of him and making him pant, his head falling over the arm of the couch as he grips the back of it with one hand, fists a hand into Barnaby's hair with the other as the man laps at his cock, twists and thrusts those fingers, makes him squirm.
Finally Barnaby's hand pulls away, finally he's between his thighs, his mouth on his shoulder, breath coming hot and fast as he sinks into him and Kotetsu just groans, spreading his legs wider as Barnaby grabs at the couch, grabs at his hips, drags him closer and makes him jerk and shudder and clench as their hips come up flush and fuck, he's full with Barnaby hilt-deep in him. It always feels like too much, a pleasant, tugging ache that makes him shiver hard and rake a hand back through sweaty hair, makes him tighten his legs about Barnaby's waist and urge him to go on.
And fuck, Barnaby does – he's nothing but thorough, and in fucking him, it's the same thing. Long, deep strokes, stretching him, making him pant and hiss out through his teeth and growl and yelp when Barnaby hits him just right, when those long, sinuous, deceptively elegant fingers wrap around his cock and stroke him in the most sinful way, making him curse with how good it feels, how that thumb swipes over the head of his cock, how he squeezes and grips him like he's Barnaby's and fuck does he like that. He likes the way Barnaby just shoves him down, yanks on his hips, shoves him into the couch and Kotetsu just gives up and bucks his hips, rides against each long slide of Barnaby's cock deep into him – and he comes, hard, spilling himself with a choked, gasping hiss of Barnaby's name, with Barnaby's own teeth sinking into his flesh, marking him and that just makes Kotetsu shudder and jerk to the point his toes are curling, his fingers curling and scratching into Barnaby's back with each, lingering roll of the other man's hips.
He twitches, trembling and letting another moan wring itself from his throat as he feels Barnaby spill himself inside of him and for awhile, they lie like that, shivering, chests heaving, breath escaping as hot, heated puffs against sweaty skin. Barnaby moves first, smoothing Kotetsu's hair, pressing an open-mouthed kiss to the side of his neck, and Kotetsu grins, languid and sated, sagging back into the couch.
"I got that impression."
A little time apart isn't such a bad thing, especially if it ends like this.