*Sexual Situations*

For the rest of the afternoon Chūshi’s thoughts were gloomy. He was so torn  up at the thought of his father that he could barely feel his original excitement at receiving his first text message from Aoto. 

Meet at the library in ten minutes. 

He considered taking his time but decided against it, because when Chūshi was  honest with himself, he was anxious to see the other young man. Maybe apologizing straight away would prevent any further misunderstandings that would keep them from getting along.

It’s worth a shot, he thought to himself as he  sped up his pace. 

Cold air and the smell of old books hit Chūshi as he entered the main lobby of the library, only slightly winded. He walked to the front desk where the reservation sheets were kept. Though he tried not to think about it, all his imagination could do was generate fantasies of all the things he and Aoto could get up to besides studying. 

Was it likely? No. 

But it didn’t stop the little thrill and rush of blood to his nether regions when he saw what room Aoto booked. It was the one at the end of the hall, with only one window that faced a dense patch of trees and had enough space for a small couch.

Don’t make assumptions, he told himself even though there were plenty of other rooms open. 

Aoto was laying down on the small couch angled toward both the door and the dry erase board when Chūshi entered the room. His eyes were closed and he looked to be asleep. His pale hands rested on his stomach and his ankles were crossed with one foot moving restlessly, the only tell that he was indeed awake. Chūshi decided that he would play along and quietly shut the door behind him. He gently placed his bag down at the side of the couch and moved so Aoto’s serene face directly underneath his gaze. 

Chūshi leaned down as if to kiss him. He hovered just above those thin lips and felt more than saw when Aoto’s eyes opened. “Isn’t this sexual harassment? I could report you.”

“You seem to keep forgetting you need me,” Chūshi teased in English, smiling to himself at the furrowed skin between Aoto’s thin eyebrows. “Let’s look at your assignment.” The skin between Aoto’s eyebrows smoothed at the sounds of Japanese, and Chūshi tsked to himself. 

For someone like him… it’s almost embarrassing that he can’t get this down. 

They spent the early evening going through each question of Aoto’s assignment to try and not only answer it correctly, but find the topics they would cover later that week for their tutoring session. 

Chūshi’s tutor mode was on in full force, to the point where he forgot just where they were. If he didn’t like the prospect of being a doctor so much, he would have liked to be a teacher of some sort. He became aware of their surroundings again when Aoto brushed against him as he got up from the couch to stretch. They were almost done, with two more questions to go but Chūshi figured that Aoto had picked up enough on the grammar to answer them on his own. 

“That wasn’t your first time doing something like that, huh?” He asked, focusing on the minute tensing of Aoto’s shoulders as the only tell. 

“I think I can finish these last few on my own,” Aoto responded, reaching to grab his papers from the table they’d been working at, the one they’d pulled to the couch. “Thanks for the help.”

“That wasn’t me judging you. I just wanted to confirm that you’re into guys; nothing more, nothing less.” Aoto’s wrist was cold in Chūshi’s loose yet firm grip. “Because if you are, I want to talk.”

“Talk about what, your need for better hygiene?” His chilly tone sent goosebumps across Chūshi’s skin, yet Aoto didn’t pull away from him. Score. 

He pulled the other young man closer to where he sat on the couch with only a little force, and the lack of resistance from Aoto threw him off balance, the back of his knees hitting the couch. Chūshi thanked his good fortune and situated Aoto’s slim body against his own before laying them down across the length of the couch, careful to watch Aoto’s head against the armrest. 

“But you did it, didn’t you Hoshino-kun?” He didn’t bother with being coy, sliding his hand over the front of Aoto’s pants.”Doesn’t that mean you’re a pervert?”

“You’re the real pervert,” Aoto’s voice rose an octave in response to Chūshi’s hand slipping into his paints and underneath the band of his underwear.

“You seem to be excited Hoshino-kun. I haven’t even kissed you.”

“Are you going to do something about it, or just keep talking with that dumb mouth of yours?” The cruelty of the other young man’s words was somewhat lessened by his grinding against Chūshi’s hand, as Chūshi pushed Aoto’s pants down his thighs. 

Chūshi finally stared into those dark pupils, hoping, but unsurprised when he didn’t find even a spark of what Aoto could be thinking or really feeling. All he had was Aoto’s labored breathing, which made his chest lift slightly in the air, and of course the growing mess in his pants as an indication of the effect he had. 

“If I do something about it, you can’t let anyone else see you like this anymore, Hoshino-kun.”