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Rin decides that loving Yoichi Isagi is like loving the sun.
It’s bright and impossible to look at, but the temptation to do so is always there, especially on harsh winter days when bitter cold seeps down to the bone.
Rin Itoshi lives in a perpetual winter; he needs no one, wants for almost nothing. He’s a one-man destroyer, a true villain on the pitch– greedy and hungry for victory. Bobcut once described a monster that lived inside him; perhaps Rin has one after all, an insatiable thing in his stomach that demands to be fed. It craves Yoichi and everything he is.
The invitation to sneak out of their assigned team stratums is a siren’s call and Rin (more eagerly than he’ll ever admit) answers. He finds Yoichi outside the door waiting for him, and as he exits, their fingers intertwine. He bumps into Rin’s personal space easily; he doesn’t push him away. And though he doesn’t know where they are going nor does he care, he ambles along and savors the unusually quiet presence of Yoichi Isagi.
But the hand in his is burning, and even though he stands eleven centimeters taller, he feels small under the gaze of ocean-blue eyes and bright smile. He never thought he’d want anything more than to win, to be the last man standing on a battlefield, lording over the broken bodies of his enemies with a football under toe. And now, unbelievably, he wants this– wants him more than he’s ever wanted to breathe. Secret moments stolen in dark hallways in this football prison aren’t enough; they haven’t been enough in a while, but he can’t bring himself to say it aloud. Yoichi never pushes, but Rin sees a similar desire in secret glances sent his way that he isn’t supposed to notice.
He notices everything about Yoichi.
The way his smile is slightly lopsided, how ocean blue eyes turn nearly midnight after Rin kisses him for entirely too long, how he worries his lower lip between his teeth when watching match film back as if it helps him think better… He’s ravenous; he wants every little piece of Yoichi solely for himself but knows he can’t allow himself to have it because he is, in fact, Rin Itoshi. He wants to beat Sae. He wants to be the best in the world. He needs to crush Isagi; there shouldn’t be space for this want between his ribs.
Yet here he is, aching with it.
Yoichi squeezes his hand, and the act is so simple it punches the air from his lungs. He draws a shaky breath in and glances from the corner of his eye. He says nothing.
“You know,” Yoichi’s voice breaks their silence, “you spent ninety minutes body-checking me every chance you got. Now I can’t seem to get you to look at me.” Rin holds back the correction that he can’t stop looking at Yoichi. He keeps his eyes pointed ahead, but he feels their steps slowing, and finally, he has to turn his head to look at him. “Where’d you just go?” Yoichi ponders and his voice is soft, much softer than the screaming cheer hours ago when the final rankings of the Neo-Egoist League rolled in, live for everyone to see.
Two number ones, tied, he and Yoichi once again caught in each other’s gravity.
When he doesn’t answer, Yoichi steps in front of him and tilts his head slightly to catch his gaze and Rin forgets how to breathe again because he’s radiant. He wonders if other people get to see him like this, and that thought sours him for a moment; he’s greedy, and he doesn’t like to share. There’s something soft about his face; the dim lights around them accentuate it. Maybe it’s exhaustion, but Rin knows him better than that. It’s contemplative; he knows it isn’t meant to strip him to bare bones. It’s meant to understand, to coax Rin out of his head.
It takes everything he has not to blink when their eyes finally meet.
Earlier, those deep blue eyes blazed with victory.
Now the fire was tamped down, embers smoldering with affection and other things Rin knows better than to pick at. Then Yoichi leans in and those blue eyes swallow every last thought in Rin’s head. He finds himself leaning in for the kiss before he can even stop himself, and Yoichi’s hands hold him gently, fingertips grazing just below the lobes of Rin’s ears. The ache in his chest flares so severely he’s sure he’s about to combust. The kiss trails along his jaw and as quickly as the ache comes, it subsides, smoothed by tender touch he hasn’t allowed himself. Want lingers on his skin between each light kiss like a brand, and though he craves it, he isn’t sure what to do with it.
Being wanted for being himself is foreign. Clubs wanted him for his skill and Blue Lock wanted him for his ego. Yoichi, brilliant and stupid Yoichi, wanted him because he was Rin; it makes him nauseous. Rin understands that, really, it hadn’t been that long ago that he’d wanted: wanted to be acknowledged by his big brother, wanted to play football together, wanted childish, dreamy things he scoffs at now.
He wants now, in a different way, a nearly all-consuming hunger to be wanted by Yoichi.
It’s a lukewarm, terrible, haunting ghost lingering under his skin. It feels like poison coating everything he understands about himself, but he drinks it down like water and holds it in his belly, lets it corrode him so it comes out like anger and bitterness. Yet despite it all, despite Rin’s rage, Yoichi hasn’t so much as blinked.
Instead, his pretty blue eyes look at him like he sees through him and all his bullshit. Yoichi tears through every defense Rin has erected to isolate himself. His knowing gaze leaves an impression each time Rin lashes out, tries to mask the too-big feelings he keeps locked up:
I see you, I understand you, I want you anyway.
As if he senses Rin’s mind is wandering, Yoichi nibbles on his lower lip and instantly, his mind is refocused on this moment, on kissing him until neither of them can breathe, until one of them breaks like an ocean wave on the shore. Yoichi is the first one to break this time with a shuddery breath and Rin takes the chance to turn them and pin him to the wall. The cameras be damned; they would have been busted at this point if anyone actually cared about what they did in the late hours of the night.
Each time he touches Yoichi, it's like holding his fingers above a candle flame. It’s hot, he knows it could hurt, but he keeps his hand there because he can. That reckless voice in his head taunts him still, constantly pushing him forward, and this is no different. He nudges Yoichi’s legs a little wider and slots one of his own between his thighs, fitting into him like a puzzle piece, and trails kisses from the corner of his mouth down the column of his neck. He is rewarded with hands fisting in his tank top, soft sighs as Rin scrapes his teeth over the pulse in his neck. Rin’s name in Yoichi’s mouth is a potent drug and as it’s sighed into his ear, desire rakes its sharp claws down his spine. This isn’t enough, he needs to feel his skin under his palms. His hands, embarrassingly, are shaking as he slides them under Yoichi’s shirt and rests them on his bare waist.
It’s not rocket science to feel that Yoichi’s body is more defined now thanks to the rigorous training they’ve all gone through. He feels hard muscle tense under his cool hands as he shudders and something primal triggers in his brain. He dips down, kisses above his sternum. Down, down, the center of him until Rin is on his knees before him.
He’s never considered himself religious, but he worships now at Yoichi’s altar, nuzzling into the tender skin of his stomach. Sunshine and citrus flood through his sinuses, makes his head spin, so he nips at it to retaliate and it earns him a sharp inhale. Fingers thread through his hair and when he glances up, midnight blue eyes meet his own and within them are constellations and supernovas burning bright, pointed to consume everything about Rin and the shaky ground he kneels on. It's desire, it’s want, and Rin finds that he willingly wants to burn in them. He hates it, hates the gravity Yoichi holds over him, but knows that without it, he would lose an unrecoverable piece of himself.
The power Yoichi holds over him reminds him of that cold, snowy night when Sae had torn him asunder, left him there in the grass with broken promises and dreams like they meant nothing. Like he meant nothing. He knows he never recovered; he'd been cut deep and the wound still bleeds despite his attempts to cauterize it with fury. This time though, it's not Sae who holds the power, it's Yoichi. It's the power to destroy everything, to wreck him until he's nothing more than a ghost of what he's built.
Rin goes to speak, lips parted, but nothing spills out of him. He hears Yoichi laugh softly, sweetly, and the pad of his thumb gently traces along Rin’s lower lip.
Absently, Rin angles his head to follow the touch, never breaking eye contact. He watches how Yoichi’s face changes, marveling at him. The pink on his cheeks darkens slightly, becoming more red, and, for the briefest moment, something like disbelief flashes across his face.
“You’re kind of beautiful,” Yoichi finally murmurs after what feels like an eternity.
It’s tepid at best, but the praise rushes through him and it's maddening how quickly Rin wants to fold under the weight of it. He braces his hands on Yoichi’s hips and holds firm, fingers reaching toward the band of his sweats. Hands catch his own, stops him, pulls him up like he weighs nothing and suddenly Yoichi is kissing him again. It’s hot, almost brutal, as he nips at Rin’s lower lip with his hands clasped once more at his jaw. He kisses him like he’s starving for it, bordering desperation, and it sends Rin’s mind reeling again.
Maybe, just maybe, Yoichi is going to kill him after all.
He isn’t sure when they move but they do, and this time, it's Yoichi’s hands under his shirt. He allows himself to be pressed backward; the cool wall does nothing to control the heat climbing along his spine as lips press against his neck. He barely registers the slide of his tank top strap across his shoulder because the kisses on his skin are scalding. Rin doesn’t even manage to choke out a complaint when Yoichi bites him, marks him where the curve of his neck meets his shoulder. It’s going to leave a dark stain on his pale skin, people are going to whisper again, but he doesn’t care because Yoichi adjusts against him and bites a little lower where the line of his collarbone is exposed. He tries to touch him, to rake his nails along the ridges of his spine, but his wrists are captured in a vice grip and pinned to the wall. Yoichi leans into him, makes Rin take most of his body weight and traps him completely. He knows he will probably have faint imprints of Yoichi’s fingers come morning.
Then, suddenly, one of his wrists is free. He lunges, reaching for the back of his head to draw him close, just as the hand that caged his wrist grips the underside of his thigh instead and lifts. Somehow, he presses impossibly closer into Rin’s space like he’s trying to crawl into his skin. Midnight blue eyes connect to his again and it's like he’s being swallowed by a black hole. He can’t escape those eyes, doesn’t want to escape them, and even though he’s drowning in them, he’s willing to do so if it means keeping those eyes on him.
He knows Yoichi has a thing for thighs; he’d left a particularly dark bruise on Rin’s inner right thigh with his teeth weeks ago. He’d been incredibly thankful that the compression under suit covered it. That memory, however, flashes through his mind and lingers as Yoichi grips tightly; it sends a wave of something languid and gooey through his limbs, and he wants nothing more than to feel those teeth again. Through the gray cotton of his joggers, Rin feels him, half hard against the meat of his thigh, and the need to touch him is intense. It itches from his palms to his fingertips, but he settles for tugging on the soft, silky hair at the back of Yoichi’s head.
Yoichi rocks into him, slowly, and the friction is nearly enough for Rin’s vision to go fuzzy at the edges. His hand tightens in the silky strands of hair, pulling a sharp gasp from Yoichi’s lungs and a much harder grind of hips into his own. He wants to beg; his pride doesn’t let him.
“Touch me,” Rin demands instead, a middle ground between intense want and obstinacy.
Rin preens at the effect his voice has as Yoichi’s breath stutters, lashes fluttering quickly, dark against the flushed, light tan of his skin. There is something about bringing him to heel, even briefly like this, that scratches at Rin’s brain. Yoichi may know Rin better than most people, but he knows Yoichi just as well. He knows where to dig, where to press, what to say to make him putty in his hands. It’s something just for him to see, to relish in, and he holds it close to his chest so no one else can find out about it. He manages to break his other wrist free and guides Yoichi’s hand to his abdomen right where the V of his abs begins to narrow. Yoichi’s brain, it seems, finally kicks into gear; Rin’s head rolls back as his fingers slip under the band of his joggers, forcing them down just enough to ride low on his hips. Rin feels Yoichi nuzzling against his jaw as his hand wraps around his cock. Electricity races up his spine, zipping between his vertebrae, and to ground himself, he grasps at Yoichi’s shoulders and bites down on a groan.
His pants are too tight, too confining, but that doesn’t stop the glide of Yoichi’s hand along his length, thumb tracing his slit.
“Like this?” His voice is raspy, edged with something Rin knows is dangerous. It's the same tone he has when he’s on the pitch, pulling puppet strings and bending the match to suit his vision. It’s the same tone he has when he’s triumphant and cocky and it makes Rin’s stomach flip because now it's focused solely on him. He's annoyed by it, but it’s incredibly attractive and it knocks around in his brain until all he can do is nod in reply. Yoichi’s laugh ghosts along his skin, soft, and he feels the intensity of his gaze drilling into him. He can’t bring himself to look into those eyes this time because he knows he’ll be pushed too close to the edge too quickly. It’s already simmering under his skin, however, teetering on a knife's edge. Gripping his shoulders, pinned against the wall, Rin tilts his hips into Yoichi’s hand just as it tightens around the base of him. It draws a choked grunt out of his lungs and he faintly registers another quiet laugh against his jaw.
He wants to tell him to shut up and focus, but before the words can form on his tongue, Yoichi’s thumb traces along a vein and Rin has to squeeze his shoulders harder to keep from losing his balance. It’s a practiced move that he falls for every time, much to his chagrin, and completely different from the hesitant fumbling from their initial trysts. Rin knows now that Yoichi studied him, cataloged everything he liked, and uses it against him now to take him apart little by little.
Though he can’t deny the benefit of his quick study; there’s a short period of time, of clarity, where he’s just Rin and nothing matters except for the warmth of Yoichi’s body next to his.
Weight shifts against him and the warm hand around him is gone. His leg falls from Yoichi’s grasp and before the annoyance settles in, Yoichi kneels before him. His fingers hook into the elastic of his pants and tug gently. Their eye contact never breaks and Rin can feel the color on his face deepen. His pants slide down his thighs, just low enough to allow his cock to spring free, long and hard, and Yoichi’s hand closes around him again. Rin tangles his fingers in thick raven hair.
Despite the fact that they’ve done this what feels like countless times, there’s always a moment where Rin feels like he’s free falling. He stands at the edge of that feeling now as he looks down, the restless voice in his head commanding him to step off the ledge. There’s yearning painted across Yoichi’s face as he looks up at him. It’s intense behind his eyes, cutting into him.
It’s everything he wants, didn’t know he needed. It’s a balm to open wounds when he expects salt. He doesn’t want to acknowledge it, but…
What the fuck was he supposed to do with it?
Before he can tug at that tangled knot, Yoichi’s tongue traces along the underside of his dick before closing his lips around him. His mouth is hot and wet and as much as he wants to thrust into it, calloused hands hold his hips still. He jerks a little anyway. A thumb traces the line of his left hip bone as Yoichi’s head bobs. What he can’t fit into his mouth, he takes into his hand again, glides along his length; Rin’s eyes close and he’s pretty sure he lets a curse slip from his mouth but his mind goes blissfully silent, wiped by the warmth of Yoichi’s mouth.
His breath hitches and, stupidly, he risks glancing down again. It’s obscene, the way Yoichi’s mouth looks around him, and if he wasn’t already an inferno, he’s sure he would ignite into one especially when the hand around his cock moves, Yoichi taking more of him into his mouth instead, and slides into his own sweats. He tugs hard enough on his hair that he knows he’s pulled some strands out, and the hand still at his hip tightens, a reminder to hold still.
Somehow, it’s too much and not enough; Rin feels release building from the base of his spine to the nape of his neck. He’s chasing it; he’s desperate for it. It claws at him, muscles tightening. Yoichi must feel it because the hand lingering on Rin’s hip trails down his thigh, blunt nails tracing along the skin, then between his legs. Fingertips trace the skin between his balls and his hole. Rin’s release tears through him, sudden and white hot. His vision fades out, then back in, knees shaking a little. He’s thankful for the wall holding him up.
“You’re a menace,” he manages, breathy, and Yoichi’s resulting hum rattles through his bones.
But he doesn’t reply beyond that. Rin glances down at him, and the sight causes him to warm again. The pink tip of his tongue swipes over his slick lip, cleaning what lingered there. When he notices Rin’s attention is back on him, he makes a show of swallowing and lifts the back of his hand to wipe at the corner of his mouth.
Finally, he grins up at him, “There you are.”
He’s awful. He’s everything. He’s kerosene on the fire that licks at Rin’s heels.
He can’t stop looking at him.
Rin gathers himself, disregards any remaining dignity he has as he tucks himself back into his sweats, and grabs Yoichi to haul him back up so he can kiss him again. He tastes himself lingering in Yoichi’s mouth, salty; he chases it as he pulls him as close as he’s able to. Yoichi is tugging at his shirt, rucking it in his hands, and as he breaks the kiss, he breathes against Rin’s lips.
His hands tremble again but Rin lifts them; his fingers tangle in Yoichi's hair and makes him tilt his head up so he can rest their foreheads together. "I hate you," he murmurs, "I hate you."
Breathlessness smothers Yoichi’s laugh, "Then stop looking at me like you don’t."
It slips out before he can stop it. "I can't," he shakes his head, "it’s killing me."
Something sharpens in those midnight blue eyes, "Then die, Rin."
He crashes back into Yoichi, or maybe Yoichi crashes back into him; it’s a flurry of kisses with clashing teeth as they tug on each other’s clothes, and Rin knows they need to get out of the hallway. Yoichi moves first, pushing him, and he allows himself to be nudged down the hallway. They move like they’re drunk, stumbling over each other in their rush.
There’s a soft, whispering slide as a door opens and Yoichi all but shoves him through it.
As the number of people dwindled in Blue Lock, they had been afforded private quarters, something about better sleep for better performance. Rin had been glad for privacy at last, a chance to get away from everyone. It had taken all of two nights for him to sneak Yoichi into his room.
This room, he realizes, smells like Yoichi. It’s citrus, it’s intoxicating. He wheels on him again because he just can’t stop. Rin pulls at his clothes, rips Yoichi’s shirt over his head, before leaning in and biting at the pulse in his neck. Yoichi groans and the sound floods through him; he hardly registers his own shirt being discarded. Then hands push his pants down before shoving him back toward the bed. Rin collapses onto it, resting a moment before lifting his head; he’s treated to the sight of Yoichi staring at him. His gaze is hungry; desire burning brightly in his eyes.
He rewards him by spreading his legs and the resulting swear is coarse.
“I need to be inside you so bad.”
“Then do it,” Rin urges. He’s hopeful it doesn’t sound desperate.
Rin watches Yoichi’s sweats slide down his thighs. He steps out of them to close the distance, and even though he expects it, the hands on his inner thighs make him jolt. He feels more than sees Yoichi as he leans over him and reaches for something hidden under his pillow.
Lube, he realizes as slick fingers dip between his legs and press into him. One becomes two on an exhale; they feel thick inside him as they open him up, though he prides himself on the slight falter as they don’t find as much resistance as probably expected.
“Earlier,” Rin answers before the question can leave Yoichi’s mouth, “in the shower.” It had burned, and his own fingers hadn’t been nearly as satisfying as this, but he’d done it anyway, quickly, so he didn’t get caught. Part of him wishes he’d waited a little longer for Yoichi’s text.
Yoichi swears again as he slides in a third finger, and Rin can’t help but grind into his hand. It's so much better than earlier in the shower, heightened by Yoichi’s singular focus solely on him.
“Were you thinking about me?” There’s a slight curl to the fingers inside him with the question and Rin takes a shuddery breath.
It takes him a moment because the fingers inside him withdraw a little just to press back into him, distracting him. “Yes,” Rin finally admits, breathy at the tail end of a gasp.
“Invite me next time,” Yoichi hums appreciatively, “you know it’ll be better.”
He does, fuck he does– they’d done it in the shower once and he hadn’t been able to look at the stalls the same since.
As the fingers withdraw completely, he shivers. Anticipation hangs heavy and Rin props himself up on his elbows. Yoichi’s hand is wrapped around himself, stroking slowly, and Rin’s mouth goes dry. Like a man possessed, he pushes himself up completely and straddles Yoichi’s lap. He kisses him, biting his lower lip and the way Yoichi gasps into his mouth is addictive. He wants to listen to the sound again, but his need demands something else, something more.
“Too slow,” Rin murmurs as he kisses him again, a hand tangled in his dark hair. He reaches behind him with the other, takes Yoichi’s cock in his hand, and starts to sink down onto him. He’s thick but he takes him inside greedily, slowing for just a moment to adjust. Yoichi doesn’t let him. With hands on Rin’s waist, he finishes guiding him down just as he lifts his hips and he sheaths himself completely inside. It’s sudden and smooth and Rin’s breath catches again with the stretch as Yoichi grinds up into him.
Lifting onto his knees gives him a little leverage and he uses it, rising just to sink back down to meet Yoichi halfway. Faster, harder, he needs it– needs him. It burns through him until all he knows is the sensation of Yoichi inside him.
It’s a splash of cold water when hands, firm on his hips now, hold him still. Rin hisses softly and tries to lift himself, but Yoichi holds firm. “Easy…” his voice is low in Rin’s ear, “we have all night, baby.”
Part of him hates being called that, but annoyingly, it's growing on him. It’s just another step in Yoichi’s dance to dismantle him. Calloused hands rest firmly on his hips still but now they guide his movements. As with anything, they sync up in a constant push and pull, and Rin feels another precipice approaching. Yoichi angles his hips slightly and Rin’s resulting moan is loud. His hands are on Yoichi’s shoulders. He digs his nails into the skin, and Yoichi hisses his name sharply.
“Please,” Rin’s voice sounds strained, desperate, “please.” Yoichi answers with a hand around his cock again, stroking just as Rin sinks down. Every muscle in his body feels tense, coiled, waiting for the inevitable.
“I wish you could see yourself,” Yoichi’s voice is breathless, “you look so good fucked out like this.”
Rin once again, stupidly, meets his gaze. A few strands of dark hair cling to his forehead. It complements his flushed, glistening skin and glassy eyes. Rin can almost count the faint freckles across the bridge of his nose. Yoichi is beautiful and all his and Rin realizes just how absolutely, irrevocably fucked he is.
The realization crashes into him, and it's enough to push him over the edge again, spills himself between them, wraps his arms around his neck and holds onto him like an anchor. He barely registers the sound of Yoichi’s voice in his ear again, “That’s it… You take it so well, Rin.”
The praise floods through him. It’s better because of the lower timbre of Yoichi’s voice right in his ear, whispering to him. He shudders as he grinds helplessly in his lap. At some point, he’d dug his nails into his back and as he surfaces, he can already feel the raised welts along Yoichi’s spine.
“Yoichi–” his voice sounds hoarse.
He doesn’t get a chance to fully regain his bearings. The world tilts around him and he falls backwards onto the bed. Yoichi crawls over him. Rin inhales sharply, knowing what comes next and he wants it. Hands tighten around Rin’s wrists as he thrusts back into him, inch by slow, torturous inch. Rin's vision explodes with stars. He’s overstimulated, it’s almost painful, but Yoichi ruts into him with a low hum and it draws another low, pleased moan from Rin’s lungs.
“I think,” Yoichi murmurs against his lips, “you have one more in you. You and me together this time, yeah?” He can’t. He shouldn’t. He’ll break. But Rin wraps a leg around him and nods because if he was going down, they’d be going together. He’s half hard already because the slow drag between his thighs, constant, rhythmic, never fully leaving him empty. He fucks him deeply, slowly. Rin’s toes curl and Yoichi’s grip on him tightens.
Yoichi’s pace quickens suddenly, goes sloppy. It’s erratic and Rin feels himself slipping under like he’s drowning.
The wave crests again and drags him under just as a particularly forceful thrust rocks him slightly up the bed. Yoichi presses into him, flush, and Rin feels warmth between his legs, liquidy and hot. He must be trembling because Yoichi is kissing his face gently, murmuring to him. And then he’s gathered up in strong arms, held close as the blanket wraps around them.
“I got you. You did so well, baby.”
“Shut up,” he manages.
He barely registers a soft laugh as sleep creeps up on him.
Rin isn’t sure how long he’s dozed off for, but the room is still dim and as he comes to, he feels Yoichi’s warmth pressed against his back, his arm draped over his middle to hold him close. Gently, his thumb traces tiny circles on Rin’s skin and it's almost enough to lull him back into sleep. As if he senses Rin is awake, his lips press to his shoulder. It’s tender and sweet, lingering, as Yoichi takes a deep breath.
He blinks and notices some water on the bedside table and knows that he’d been asleep long enough for Yoichi to slip away and get it.
Between his thighs is slick but sticky; he realizes as he shifts a little to press back into Yoichi’s chest. He feels full, sated, and knows it will potentially be an embarrassing walk back to his room. But he doesn’t feel that now. Instead, there’s something warmer, softer; his heart feels calm, his head quiet. Clarity settles in. He’s just Rin, the arms around him are strong, and nothing else matters for however long he can lie here. He’s wanted and, for once, it doesn’t make him feel like crawling out of his skin.
One of Yoichi’s legs hooks around his as a kiss is pressed against his shoulder again.
“Awake?” Yoichi whispers, warm breath fanning across his skin, almost as if he is afraid of disturbing the peace. It’s too intimate, yet Rin finds himself burrowing into it anyway.
Instead of answering, he takes the hand tracing circles on his skin and squeezes gently. They lay in silence, listening for any movement in the hallway outside but none comes. Eventually, he feels Yoichi shift, rolling onto his back. Rin decides he doesn’t like the cold, and before better judgment gets the better of him, he rolls and climbs on top of him, knees on either side of his hips. Immediately, Yoichi’s fingertips trace up the front of his thighs. It would be so easy, he realizes, to sink back down on him. It’s tempting, even.
“I wasn’t going anywhere.” Yoichi smiles up at him, lopsided and warm, and Rin can’t help but lean down and kiss him. It's like a warm ray of sun cracking the ice he surrounds himself with. Feelings he has but still can’t decide if he wants weigh heavily in his chest; he shouldn’t want him, but he does. He can’t need him, and yet…
And yet, he does.
It leaves Rin’s mouth and he doesn’t try to stop it, “Promise?”
Yoichi blinks up at him, “... What?”
He lets his hands rest on Yoichi’s firm chest and he debates not saying anything. Then, “You’re mine. You’re not going anywhere. Got it?”
Yoichi snorts, amused, and his smile is blinding. This time Rin doesn’t look away, choosing instead to face the sun directly. He leans down to kiss him again but Yoichi rolls them and settles them on their sides. Rin’s on his right side and uses Yoichi’s bicep as a pillow. Somehow he is both surprised and not at all surprised at how easily they slot together in a tangle of limbs under the blankets.
“I’m surprised you don’t already know,” Yoichi finally answers, looking into Rin’s eyes. There’s a touch of reverence in his tone. “You’re stuck with me, Rin.”
Oh… Somehow that’s exactly what he wanted to hear.
He tucks closer, head under Yoichi's chin, and holds tight.
He decides that, maybe, it's a good thing to be wanted after all.