1.1. A sneak peek into the daily lives of our seniors:

When Daichi joined him on the couch, Surya offered him a sip of his drink while he powered up his laptop. He watched in the reflection as Daichi placed his mouth exactly where he had, like he’d rather taste that than anything else.

He replayed that moment throughout their movie, but nothing came of it until the next morning, when Daichi’s fingers circled his wrists and pinned them overhead. He could feel the soft strands of his own hair, but couldn’t quite grasp them.

Daichi stroked the line of his jaw, then pressed his fingertips against his cheekbone, holding him still so that he could nibble down on Surya’s bottom lip. Surya tipped his mouth higher to kiss him, tasting the strawberries they’d just finished between them, and he felt Daichi’s smile.

“It’s your turn, you know.”

So Surya asked, “Would you lose on purpose just to see me win?”

And Daichi very seriously told him, “No.”

He knew the demanding press of Daichi’s mouth on his neck was partly to silence his nagging about the expiring food in the fridge and partly to keep him from leaving their tangled sheets. Daichi even hooked his leg around Surya’s, bringing their hips flush together.

“Do you secretly save my texts?” Daichi asked.

“No,” he lied, more embarrassed than he liked to admit, and Daichi started laughing into his shoulder. He groaned, “Oh, come on, who wouldn’t?”

“If you show me which ones you’ve saved, I promise I’ll text more often,” Daichi grinned, very entertained by this.

Surya tried to steal the lead, but Daichi squeezed his wrists, keeping them captive above his head. Daichi took his time working on Surya’s neck, nibbling and sucking, and the sudden roll of his hips elicited a raw moan from Surya.

It wasn’t fair. Surya’s buttons were undone, his shirt caught about his shoulders, baring his chest and all the marks peppered there. His face flushed and visibly wanting. His hips were glued against Daichi’s, searching for friction, but Daichi was taking his sweet time, trailing his fingers lower and lower.

Surya flexed his hands impatiently, and the instant Daichi released them, he started doing what he wanted. He rubbed and pinched softly through the fabric of Daichi’s shirt, feeling drunk with arousal whenever Daichi twitched and gasped.

“Do you always stare at me when I’m not looking?” Surya smiled, sneaking his hand into Daichi’s pants. He wrapped feverish fingers around the length of him, squeezing as he began to stroke.

"I'm not creepy like that." Daichi’s eyelashes fluttered shut, his throat rolling. “I stare at you openly.”

Surya’s smile curved wider, and he rocked against Daichi, aching and desperate. Daichi’s responding grin was undeniably starving. His fingers dug bullets into Surya’s thighs as he started to move in rhythm with him, packing heat and pressure between his legs, until Surya felt like the pleasure was splitting him in two.

Daichi carved his hips into Surya, crushing them together. He adjusted his sweaty grip around Surya’s thigh, hiking it higher to pull their lower halves even closer.

The thickness of their mattress and damp sheet spared Surya from his slamming rhythm, though his tailbone still protested from doing it against the hardwood yesterday. The push and pull caused a delightful spark of ecstasy to shoot right to his groin, robbing him of thought.

The slick friction grew overwhelming, and Surya clutched Daichi’s forearms, riding it higher. Daichi leant down to chase a kiss from him, and his lips felt raw and red from the touch and Daichi’s day-old stubble.

Their mouths fell apart as Surya hit his peak. His whole body shuddered, unravelling, and the motion between them turned gentler, lazier, while Daichi helped him feel it for as long as he could.

Surya didn’t even realise his eyes were closed until he heard Daichi’s low, amused hum, “Your third alarm’s gone off.”

He sprung off the mattress, while Daichi fell back against the sheets to sleep away the morning. He lay still until his lungs were full again, his bare back snaking between the messy sheets, and his gaze lazily watched Surya scramble about the room for clean clothes.

Honestly, he’d probably only done this to make Surya late.

“I’d wish you a good day,” Daichi drawled, “but do you deserve it after trying to throw out half our fridge?”

“Expiration dates exist for a reason.”

“They’re always a lie.”

“I don’t know how you and I haven’t died from food poisoning yet,” Surya grumbled, straightening his collar.

“We’ve inherited an unfathomable immune system.” 

“What type of immune system is that robust against literal mold, Daichi?” 

“An unfathomable one,” he answered. “And even if people have died from rotten food, I’m built different.” 

“So if I died, you’d what, find yourself another soulmate on the streets?” 

“Nah, my next soulmate is out there somewhere, walking into a glass door. I just know it.” 

Well, little did they know that Akira Malay was sipping from a straw right that very minute, lifting the cup and unwittingly tipping all its icy contents directly onto his lap.