consumed by such desire
Title: consumed by such desire
Pairing: Koyama/Shige
Rating: NC-17
Words: 3,815
Summary: AU Shige passes the ramen shop nearly every day, lost in his own thoughts and too busy to notice - until today.
Notes: I call this piece of work a modified villanelle short story. A villanelle is a style of poetry and this short story follows, within reason, the stylistic guides of the poem with my own spin on things. This was my original hols fic but I decided that it wouldn't be fair to push my sense of artistry on poor, unsuspecting yey_yey . Also because I fell in love with it and got a bit possessive but... yeah. Thanks to catskilt and imifumei for beta, and beltenebra and bananyphophany for handholding. I really appreciate it, you guys.
Any other day, Kato would have continued on past the row of shops in Sobudai to make his way home and study and sleep before going back the same way the next morning. Today, however, he’s stopped by a woman who jogs into him, jostles him with minor apology, and disappears. But he has finally lifted his eyes from the ground and they settle on a boy. He watches the dark-haired man flip the sign of a ramen shop from closed to open. When their eyes catch, the other man smiles invitingly and turns away. Shige can’t help but follow the retreat with his eyes before looking around and blinking -
the afternoon light spills across the dusty street, setting the windows opposite on fire.
On a whim, he enters the establishment, seating himself carefully at the counter and looking over the menu placed before him by an older woman with a gentle smile. He plays with the strap of the messenger bag in his lap, orders a bowl of miso ramen and tea, and vaguely wonders why he’s here. Pulling out a sheaf of papers from his bag, he looks over an article for class, losing himself in the theory and criticism of Derrida as applied to Shusaku Endo’s Silence until a bowl clinks down in front of him and he lifts his eyes to once more meet the other man’s. “What are you reading?” he asks, looking genuinely interested. Kato glances down at the papers then back up. “It’s complicated.” “I can tell that from the impressive wrinkles on your forehead,” the man says with a smile before he steps back and away. “Eat up before it soaks too much.” He can’t keep his eyes from following the man every time he comes into view -
it’s like an obsessive compulsion.
On one of his rounds to refill Kato’s water (and Kato feels ready to burst with the amount he’s been drinking to keep the man coming around) he introduces himself. “Koyama Keiichiro.” “What?” “My name. Is Koyama Keiichiro.” “Oh.” Koyama’s lips tilt up at the corners and he arches a brow. “Oh.” He stutters over his own name and Koyama grins at him. It’s busy and he takes a certain pleasure in watching the man flit from customer to customer. He trades light banter, with a playful smile, with the man having negiramen, comments on the weather with a warm smile for the obaasan in the corner, and Kato is filing them all away, the many smiles of Koyama. The man catches him looking a couple times and Kato sheepishly goes back to reading his article, entrenching himself in it and promising himself that he’ll stop watching the man. There’s a sudden lull, and the restaurant is almost empty, he discovers, when the quiet causes him to look up from his papers. Koyama is there behind the counter and the tall man puts a long-fingered hand down in front of him and coaxes out an explanation of the article. Koyama doesn’t pretend to understand but he’s so transfixed by the radiant look on the young man’s face that he can’t keep an awed smile from his lips.
It is unbelievable, he thinks, to be consumed by such desire.
1 week
One week later - same time, same place - Kato finds himself sliding onto a stool at the counter and ordering the same thing as last week. This time he has his nose buried in Tanizaki Junichiro’s A Fool’s Love when Koyama deposits his ramen in front of him and leans against the counter. “So, is it safe to assume that you’re a student and not just reading these things for fun?” He gestures at the book, now on the counter, and Kato nods his assent, carefully breaking apart his chopsticks to keep his traitorous eyes from attaching themselves to Koyama’s. He feels the man watching him take his first bites, but, when he finally works up the courage to look up, the man has silently moved away. He picks up his book and reads while he eats, waiting, hoping, somehow knowing he will come back over. Yet he is still surprised when Koyama appears in front of him again and asks him about the book. His nervousness fades away as he launches into an explanation of the nuances of conflict between the East and West as represented by characters in Tanazaki’s novel.
Kato notices that the man listens as though there is nothing else he’d rather be doing, but the jangling of the bells above the door is a sobering reminder.
He forgets his promise to keep from watching Koyama work. He notes how the man cheerfully greets customers and how easy he makes balancing dishes look when Kato knows that, in his place, the floor would be covered in broth and noodles by now. He’s especially fascinated by the way the man’s long limbs, which should be awkward or ungainly coupled with his lanky frame, manage to look graceful in their movement. When he finally returns, Kato has nearly finished his ramen and Koyama is casually asking him about school (“I’m going to guess you’re majoring in literature?” “How’d you guess?”), his family (“What do your parents do?” “My dad’s a businessman and my mom does part-time social work.” “Any siblings?” “No, it’s just me.”), his age (“Really? You’re 20? Oh, nothing. You just seem older.” And he can’t get rid of the feeling that Koyama is good-naturedly laughing at him on the inside.) It’s several minutes before Kato realizes that he hasn’t asked Koyama anything. The glass of tea is gripped tightly in his hand when he pushes his glasses up his nose and looks at Koyama polishing dishes behind the counter. He clears his throat. “K-koyama-san.” Their eyes meet. “Tell me about yourself?” Koyama hums and turns the dish over in his hand. “I’m 24. I graduated with a degree in business, year before last.” “You did?” “Don’t sound so surprised,” he said with a grin. Kato sputtered, “I never said -“ But Koyama was laughing over his protests. “And your family?” “I have a sister and she’s married with two little boys. And you’ve met my mom, of course,” the man says with a grin. “I have?” “Sure,” he says, still grinning and nods his head at the older woman with the gentle smile who is always there. A pause. “Isn’t she the owner?” “Yep,” Koyama says happily.
Shige wonders how it escaped his attention.
When Koyama comes to collect Kato’s bill (he always leaves exact change,) their fingers brush and a blush ignites Kato’s cheeks. He slowly raises his eyes to see a soft smile on the taller man’s lips and he jumps up and snatches his hand away, knocking his tea over. They both rush to clean it up, Kato apologizing profusely and Koyama gently pushing him aside to sop up the mess with a towel. “I’m sorry,” Koyama says, holding out Kato’s book to him. “I’m afraid your book got a little wet.” Kato blinks a bit then takes it from him. “No, no. It was my fault in the first place.” Koyama smiles at him then, wide and bright, before bidding him good night and turning away.
Kato gaze spills over Koyama’s lean form as he walks away, lingering a bit too long, when Koyama suddenly looks over his shoulder with a knowing half-smile, setting the tips of Kato’s ears on fire.
4 weeks
It’s become a routine, now, how Kato comes by once a week to order miso ramen and tea, chat idly (and to be honest, one-sidedly since Koyama is always the one asking the questions) about life and/or literature, and briefly touch fingers over the bill. He wonders at the electricity between their fingers and what it might mean but he comes for the ramen and the conversation, of course. He honestly tried to make the conversation equal give and take but he kept getting distracted - Koyama would shake his bangs out of his eyes or lick his lips unconsciously or, you know, lift things. This would inevitably cause him to focus on Koyama’s face or various parts of his anatomy and he would promptly forget any questions he might have had -
he can’t help it if the man’s close proximity is all it takes to make his brain go haywire.
“No book today?” Koyama asks, surprised, when Kato sits down at the counter. “Oh. No. No class today.” Koyama smiles brightly. “You came just to visit me, right?” he asks slyly. Shige flushes and mumbles, “No! I mean… yes?” And Koyama is laughing at him again and it’s so comfortable. “So,” he traces his fingers along the grooves of the counter , “what do you do when you’re not working here?” He congratulates himself for sounding mostly casual. “Oh, lots of things. Play with my nephews, read manga, go to karaoke, play with my cat.” Shige purses his lips. “You have a cat?” “Yes. You... don’t like cats?” Koyama is frowning and he rushes to reassure him, “No, no. I like cats. It’s just… I’m allergic, is all.” “Oh.” Koyama sounds forlorn so he adds, “But I’m usually ok if I take an antihistamine.” “Oh,” but this time he’s smiling. “Tell me about your cat,” he says, because it’s obvious that Koyama really likes cats, enough to be disappointed when he thinks Kato doesn’t. And Koyama does, gushing about his ‘Nyanta’ until he realizes a customer in the corner needs more water.
Kato amuses himself, playing out scenes of Koyama laughing and chasing a fluffy grey tabby around his house until he stops from exhaustion.
They brush fingers over the bill, like usual, and the shy blush graces his cheeks, like usual, and Koyama’s got the same knowing smile. But today when he leaves the restaurant Koyama runs out after him and says, a little breathlessly, “Here,” and hands him a slip of paper. With a number on. Kato blinks and looks up at Koyama’s smiling face and notices a flush on the normally cool man’s cheeks. “I know you’re here pretty often but … if you want to call me or something-“ Kato’s grin is wide and they look at each other for a moment before Koyama scratches his neck sheepishly, ducks his head and heads back into the store with a wave. Warmth spreads through Kato’s body and he feels like jumping for joy, almost does, really but luckily he trips over the sidewalk and catches himself on a nearby pole. An elderly couple is carefully trying to smother their laughter and he flashes them an embarrassed grin and tries to calm his racing heart.
It is unbelievable, he thinks, to be consumed by such desire.
16 weeks
He mails Koyama for the twenty-fourth time that week (and it’s only Wednesday) - but really he can’t be blamed when Koyama is so encouraging with his replying mails full of interest and emoticons. He’d thought it would be impossible to work up the courage to hit the send button, but it is surprisingly easy when Koyama’s intense gaze isn’t on him. That’s why when his fingers bypass his brain and suddenly ask Koyama to breakfast the next morning, he is less surprised than horrified. Even more so when Koyama sends him a reply within the minute saying, “Ok,” with about a thousand exclamation points after.
Kato blinks at his traitorous fingers and decides they need a rewire.
The next morning finds him with his stomach in his throat and his fingers nervously tapping against his thigh - Koyama is twenty minutes late. A few seconds later, the older man comes rushing into the café and his momentum causes him to pass Kato entirely. He backpedals to fall into the seat opposite the younger man. “I’m sorry,” he says ruefully and tries to catch his breath. “I guess I should have warned you that I’m usually late even though I try so hard to be on time.” Kato’s just so glad he finally showed up that he smiles and nods and tells him that it’s definitely okay. Now that he has Koyama to himself and doesn’t have to worry about anyone else demanding Koyama’s attention, he finds it less difficult to speak. Koyama makes it easy for him, as usual, smoothly segueing each quiet moment into speech and Kato is grateful for such an accommodating conversation partner. But after a while, they’re bantering like old friends and Kato learns that Koyama is planning on taking over his mother’s restaurant, that Koyama failed his high school entrance exam, that Koyama has this look whenever he takes a bite that makes him look five and in awe, that he really loves food and a million other things he feels embarrassed about noticing but can’t help. Before either of them realize, it’s been three hours and Kato feels oddly comfortable with this man who is still sort of a stranger, though less so now.
He decides that, if this is the result of just three hours, from now on he wants more of Koyama’s undivided attention.
Koyama insists on paying the bill and Kato waits on the sidewalk for him. “No class today?” “No, I have some work to do at the library is all.” They walk in companionable silence for a while until Kato realizes he has no idea where they’re going. He mentions the fact laughingly to Koyama who chuckles and says, “But it feels good to walk around, doesn’t it?” They do a little window shopping, each deliberately pointing out ridiculous outfits and hats that they just know the other wants and Kato even tries one on and models it for Koyama who practically doubles over in laughter at the feathery concoction on Kato’s head and earns them both a reproving look from a saleslady. Finally, Kato looks at his watch and says, “It’s almost time for the shop to open,” and Koyama nods solemnly. “It’s been fun,” Kato says. “Let’s do it again,” they both say at the same time.
Koyama quirks his lips up and lowers his head so that his hair spills over his eyes, setting Kato’s heart on fire.
32 weeks
Koyama is out at the park with his sister and nephews when he receives a mail from Kato to which is attached a rather familiar photograph of himself - playing with his nephews … at the park. He grins when he sees it and extricates himself from the arms of Haruto. “Uncle Kei will be right back, Haru-chan.” He stands and looks around, quickly spotting Kato sitting on a bench not too far away. They both grin and he jogs over to Kato. “Are you my own personal stalker?” he asks as he sits. “I guess, if you want one that bad, I can do it for you,” Shige replies airily. Their knees touch as they relax against the bench and watch Koyama’s sister playing with the boys.
He finds it difficult to focus with Koyama so close and warm next to him and he has to remind himself to not openly admire.
And then Koyama stands and grabs Kato’s hand and pulls him up and they’re standing so close he can smell the other boy’s shampoo. But after a tense heartbeat Koyama moves away and tugs him after and says, “You’re going to meet my nephews. Can you believe I’m an uncle?” And Kato can, really, he seems perfectly suited to the job, is what he tells him and Koyama’s smile is blinding. “Onee-san,” he says, and drops Kato’s hand, “this is my friend, Kato Shigeaki-san. Kato-san, my sister.” They exchange greetings and Kato absently rubs his now-empty fingers against each other. The older nephew clings shyly to his uncle’s leg and Koyama does a funny shuffleturn to get Haruto to face Kato. “Haruto-chan. This is Kato-san, ok?”
The boy grins and hides his face in Koyama’s pant leg and everyone laughs at the affectation.
His other nephew, Ren, is too small to understand what’s going on but the five of them laugh and play together for an hour, Haruto finally giving up the shy farce and chasing Kato around the fountain before “catching” him and tickling his belly. “Saaave me,” Kato whines but Koyama is too busy laughing at them before he joins in the tickling himself and Kato just laughs ‘til he cries. The good times come to an end when Koyama looks at his watch and realizes the time. He quickly says his goodbyes to his sister and Kato before bending down to kiss his youngest nephew. He then scoops Haruto into his arms and whirls him around once - Koyama’s eyes are closed and he hugs Haru close to him, smooshing their cheeks together. They both look so happy, so content, that it makes Kato’s heart ache.
It is unbelievable, he thinks, to be consumed by such desire.
52 weeks
Kato is waiting patiently for his bill when a plate is slid in front of him. On it are two small cakes each with a candle in the middle. He looks up at Koyama. “Happy anniversary!” Kato looks confused but obligingly blows out the candles. “It’s been one year today since you first came in.” Awe infuses Kato’s expression. “And the other?” he asks. “Two months since our first kiss,” he says and grins. The younger man bites his lip and smiles before looking at the desserts. “Shouldn’t the one year one be bigger?” he asks mock-seriously as he regards the cakes. Koyama smiles contentedly at him. “No. The two months are just as important as the year.” He catches his breath at the look in Koyama’s eyes and suddenly he has an overwhelming urge to be as close to him as possible. He leans forward instinctively and Koyama accommodates him by leaning across the counter and their cheeks slide together. “I want to take you home with me,” Kato whispers in his ear, his husky voice even deeper than usual. Koyama steps back and regards him thoughtfully. “All right,” he says, after a pause. “All right?” Kato is surprised. “Yes. Kimi is due in half an hour and I think they can manage without me tonight. Eat your cake while I finish,” he says with a wink.
Koyama removes his apron as he walks away and Kato smirks at the thoughts the act inspires.
They walk silently side by side, their fingers brushing with every swing as they walk toward Shige’s apartment. Rusty sunlight glints off windows and oncoming windshields coloring everything a dusky orange. Kato feels the tension between them - like a big cat, muscles coiled and tense, ready to pounce but rubbing sensuously against their legs. Kato looks behind at Koyama as they climb the stairs and he can practically feel the heat from the man’s eyes. And he realizes that Koyama is the cat - his movements are graceful, all power forced into fluidity and his eyes are strangely dark.
Kato trips and forces himself to focus on the next step, the next step, the next step until he wrestles open the door, grateful for the distraction.
“Somehow,” Kato says breathlessly when Koyama is standing inches away from him, just inside the door, “I feel like you’vetaken me home.” Koyama’s smirk is feral. “Not yet.” It’s all Kato can do to turn away to shut and lock the door then lead Koyama to his bedroom. He’s suddenly shy when he turns to face the other man who shuts the bedroom door carefully behind him and leans against it for a moment, dragging his gaze up Kato’s body, stopping for a moment on the full lips before catching his eyes. Then Koyama is wrapping long arms around him and capturing his lips in a smoldering kiss. They fumble with buttons, belt buckles and zippers, dragging fingers and lips along newly exposed flesh until Koyama is on his knees in front of Kato and taking his erection into his mouth, coaxing lewd moans from his lips. He doesn’t stay long and Kato groans in loss when Koyama stands up, sliding himself against Kato all the way up before grinding their erections together then lowering the other man to the bed. Kato’s breathing is heavy as Koyama slinks his way up his body, pressing kisses against his thigh, navel, nipple, neck and he bites down there and Kato bucks against him, his eyes rolling back. Then Koyama is kissing him and there’s tenderness amidst the hunger and it’s enough to bring Kato back to himself and he rolls over to fumble out lube and a condom from the night table. He hands them to Koyama with a deepening blush and averted eyes but Koyama takes them from him and turns his face with warm fingers. There’s a need for permission in his eyes and Kato nods carefully, trying to breathe. Koyama presses him down and settles between his legs.
He cups Kato’s cheek with a hand and then his fingers spill across Kato’s chest, setting his senses on fire.
Koyama is unsurprisingly gentle as he prepares Kato and when he finally presses in there is just strange discomfort and very little pain. Koyama smoothes his hands down Kato’s chest as they wait for him to adjust and Kato can feel them trembling against him. “It’s okay,” he whispers after a moment. And Koyama nods shakily and pulls back to push in again gently, each time going a little further until he is fully sheathed. He feels Koyama grip his hips hard as he begins thrusting more forcefully and then Kato is gasping against an overwhelmingly pleasant sensation and panting out “Kei, Kei,” with small puffs of breath. After what seems like both seconds and hours Koyama becomes erratic and takes to rolling his hips against Kato’s ass, as deep as he can get, and he brushes Kato’s hand away from his erection to pump him firmly to completion. A harsh moan rips from his throat as he releases himself across Koyama’s fingers and slumps back against the pillows. Koyama follows shortly after, pressing his hips hard against Kato with short thrusts before stilling completely. Their breath is warm on each other’s faces as Koyama leans over Kato, supporting himself on trembling arms to press their foreheads together for a moment. Protesting muscles force Koyama up and off and he cleans them both up with his boxers before drawing the blankets over them and curling against the other man, laying his head against his chest. Kato smoothes his fingers through Koyama’s hair, feeling the steady rise and fall of his chest, the warm even breaths across his skin and he smiles fondly down at him. The word “forever” floats across his drowsy mind and, as though reading his thoughts, Koyama looks up and smiles at him sleepily. Kato’s breath catches.
It is unbelievable, he thinks, to be consumed by such desire.
Pairing: Koyama/Shige
Rating: NC-17
Words: 3,815
Summary: AU Shige passes the ramen shop nearly every day, lost in his own thoughts and too busy to notice - until today.
Notes: I call this piece of work a modified villanelle short story. A villanelle is a style of poetry and this short story follows, within reason, the stylistic guides of the poem with my own spin on things. This was my original hols fic but I decided that it wouldn't be fair to push my sense of artistry on poor, unsuspecting yey_yey . Also because I fell in love with it and got a bit possessive but... yeah. Thanks to catskilt and imifumei for beta, and beltenebra and bananyphophany for handholding. I really appreciate it, you guys.
Any other day, Kato would have continued on past the row of shops in Sobudai to make his way home and study and sleep before going back the same way the next morning. Today, however, he’s stopped by a woman who jogs into him, jostles him with minor apology, and disappears. But he has finally lifted his eyes from the ground and they settle on a boy. He watches the dark-haired man flip the sign of a ramen shop from closed to open. When their eyes catch, the other man smiles invitingly and turns away. Shige can’t help but follow the retreat with his eyes before looking around and blinking -
the afternoon light spills across the dusty street, setting the windows opposite on fire.
On a whim, he enters the establishment, seating himself carefully at the counter and looking over the menu placed before him by an older woman with a gentle smile. He plays with the strap of the messenger bag in his lap, orders a bowl of miso ramen and tea, and vaguely wonders why he’s here. Pulling out a sheaf of papers from his bag, he looks over an article for class, losing himself in the theory and criticism of Derrida as applied to Shusaku Endo’s Silence until a bowl clinks down in front of him and he lifts his eyes to once more meet the other man’s. “What are you reading?” he asks, looking genuinely interested. Kato glances down at the papers then back up. “It’s complicated.” “I can tell that from the impressive wrinkles on your forehead,” the man says with a smile before he steps back and away. “Eat up before it soaks too much.” He can’t keep his eyes from following the man every time he comes into view -
it’s like an obsessive compulsion.
On one of his rounds to refill Kato’s water (and Kato feels ready to burst with the amount he’s been drinking to keep the man coming around) he introduces himself. “Koyama Keiichiro.” “What?” “My name. Is Koyama Keiichiro.” “Oh.” Koyama’s lips tilt up at the corners and he arches a brow. “Oh.” He stutters over his own name and Koyama grins at him. It’s busy and he takes a certain pleasure in watching the man flit from customer to customer. He trades light banter, with a playful smile, with the man having negiramen, comments on the weather with a warm smile for the obaasan in the corner, and Kato is filing them all away, the many smiles of Koyama. The man catches him looking a couple times and Kato sheepishly goes back to reading his article, entrenching himself in it and promising himself that he’ll stop watching the man. There’s a sudden lull, and the restaurant is almost empty, he discovers, when the quiet causes him to look up from his papers. Koyama is there behind the counter and the tall man puts a long-fingered hand down in front of him and coaxes out an explanation of the article. Koyama doesn’t pretend to understand but he’s so transfixed by the radiant look on the young man’s face that he can’t keep an awed smile from his lips.
It is unbelievable, he thinks, to be consumed by such desire.
1 week
One week later - same time, same place - Kato finds himself sliding onto a stool at the counter and ordering the same thing as last week. This time he has his nose buried in Tanizaki Junichiro’s A Fool’s Love when Koyama deposits his ramen in front of him and leans against the counter. “So, is it safe to assume that you’re a student and not just reading these things for fun?” He gestures at the book, now on the counter, and Kato nods his assent, carefully breaking apart his chopsticks to keep his traitorous eyes from attaching themselves to Koyama’s. He feels the man watching him take his first bites, but, when he finally works up the courage to look up, the man has silently moved away. He picks up his book and reads while he eats, waiting, hoping, somehow knowing he will come back over. Yet he is still surprised when Koyama appears in front of him again and asks him about the book. His nervousness fades away as he launches into an explanation of the nuances of conflict between the East and West as represented by characters in Tanazaki’s novel.
Kato notices that the man listens as though there is nothing else he’d rather be doing, but the jangling of the bells above the door is a sobering reminder.
He forgets his promise to keep from watching Koyama work. He notes how the man cheerfully greets customers and how easy he makes balancing dishes look when Kato knows that, in his place, the floor would be covered in broth and noodles by now. He’s especially fascinated by the way the man’s long limbs, which should be awkward or ungainly coupled with his lanky frame, manage to look graceful in their movement. When he finally returns, Kato has nearly finished his ramen and Koyama is casually asking him about school (“I’m going to guess you’re majoring in literature?” “How’d you guess?”), his family (“What do your parents do?” “My dad’s a businessman and my mom does part-time social work.” “Any siblings?” “No, it’s just me.”), his age (“Really? You’re 20? Oh, nothing. You just seem older.” And he can’t get rid of the feeling that Koyama is good-naturedly laughing at him on the inside.) It’s several minutes before Kato realizes that he hasn’t asked Koyama anything. The glass of tea is gripped tightly in his hand when he pushes his glasses up his nose and looks at Koyama polishing dishes behind the counter. He clears his throat. “K-koyama-san.” Their eyes meet. “Tell me about yourself?” Koyama hums and turns the dish over in his hand. “I’m 24. I graduated with a degree in business, year before last.” “You did?” “Don’t sound so surprised,” he said with a grin. Kato sputtered, “I never said -“ But Koyama was laughing over his protests. “And your family?” “I have a sister and she’s married with two little boys. And you’ve met my mom, of course,” the man says with a grin. “I have?” “Sure,” he says, still grinning and nods his head at the older woman with the gentle smile who is always there. A pause. “Isn’t she the owner?” “Yep,” Koyama says happily.
Shige wonders how it escaped his attention.
When Koyama comes to collect Kato’s bill (he always leaves exact change,) their fingers brush and a blush ignites Kato’s cheeks. He slowly raises his eyes to see a soft smile on the taller man’s lips and he jumps up and snatches his hand away, knocking his tea over. They both rush to clean it up, Kato apologizing profusely and Koyama gently pushing him aside to sop up the mess with a towel. “I’m sorry,” Koyama says, holding out Kato’s book to him. “I’m afraid your book got a little wet.” Kato blinks a bit then takes it from him. “No, no. It was my fault in the first place.” Koyama smiles at him then, wide and bright, before bidding him good night and turning away.
Kato gaze spills over Koyama’s lean form as he walks away, lingering a bit too long, when Koyama suddenly looks over his shoulder with a knowing half-smile, setting the tips of Kato’s ears on fire.
4 weeks
It’s become a routine, now, how Kato comes by once a week to order miso ramen and tea, chat idly (and to be honest, one-sidedly since Koyama is always the one asking the questions) about life and/or literature, and briefly touch fingers over the bill. He wonders at the electricity between their fingers and what it might mean but he comes for the ramen and the conversation, of course. He honestly tried to make the conversation equal give and take but he kept getting distracted - Koyama would shake his bangs out of his eyes or lick his lips unconsciously or, you know, lift things. This would inevitably cause him to focus on Koyama’s face or various parts of his anatomy and he would promptly forget any questions he might have had -
he can’t help it if the man’s close proximity is all it takes to make his brain go haywire.
“No book today?” Koyama asks, surprised, when Kato sits down at the counter. “Oh. No. No class today.” Koyama smiles brightly. “You came just to visit me, right?” he asks slyly. Shige flushes and mumbles, “No! I mean… yes?” And Koyama is laughing at him again and it’s so comfortable. “So,” he traces his fingers along the grooves of the counter , “what do you do when you’re not working here?” He congratulates himself for sounding mostly casual. “Oh, lots of things. Play with my nephews, read manga, go to karaoke, play with my cat.” Shige purses his lips. “You have a cat?” “Yes. You... don’t like cats?” Koyama is frowning and he rushes to reassure him, “No, no. I like cats. It’s just… I’m allergic, is all.” “Oh.” Koyama sounds forlorn so he adds, “But I’m usually ok if I take an antihistamine.” “Oh,” but this time he’s smiling. “Tell me about your cat,” he says, because it’s obvious that Koyama really likes cats, enough to be disappointed when he thinks Kato doesn’t. And Koyama does, gushing about his ‘Nyanta’ until he realizes a customer in the corner needs more water.
Kato amuses himself, playing out scenes of Koyama laughing and chasing a fluffy grey tabby around his house until he stops from exhaustion.
They brush fingers over the bill, like usual, and the shy blush graces his cheeks, like usual, and Koyama’s got the same knowing smile. But today when he leaves the restaurant Koyama runs out after him and says, a little breathlessly, “Here,” and hands him a slip of paper. With a number on. Kato blinks and looks up at Koyama’s smiling face and notices a flush on the normally cool man’s cheeks. “I know you’re here pretty often but … if you want to call me or something-“ Kato’s grin is wide and they look at each other for a moment before Koyama scratches his neck sheepishly, ducks his head and heads back into the store with a wave. Warmth spreads through Kato’s body and he feels like jumping for joy, almost does, really but luckily he trips over the sidewalk and catches himself on a nearby pole. An elderly couple is carefully trying to smother their laughter and he flashes them an embarrassed grin and tries to calm his racing heart.
It is unbelievable, he thinks, to be consumed by such desire.
16 weeks
He mails Koyama for the twenty-fourth time that week (and it’s only Wednesday) - but really he can’t be blamed when Koyama is so encouraging with his replying mails full of interest and emoticons. He’d thought it would be impossible to work up the courage to hit the send button, but it is surprisingly easy when Koyama’s intense gaze isn’t on him. That’s why when his fingers bypass his brain and suddenly ask Koyama to breakfast the next morning, he is less surprised than horrified. Even more so when Koyama sends him a reply within the minute saying, “Ok,” with about a thousand exclamation points after.
Kato blinks at his traitorous fingers and decides they need a rewire.
The next morning finds him with his stomach in his throat and his fingers nervously tapping against his thigh - Koyama is twenty minutes late. A few seconds later, the older man comes rushing into the café and his momentum causes him to pass Kato entirely. He backpedals to fall into the seat opposite the younger man. “I’m sorry,” he says ruefully and tries to catch his breath. “I guess I should have warned you that I’m usually late even though I try so hard to be on time.” Kato’s just so glad he finally showed up that he smiles and nods and tells him that it’s definitely okay. Now that he has Koyama to himself and doesn’t have to worry about anyone else demanding Koyama’s attention, he finds it less difficult to speak. Koyama makes it easy for him, as usual, smoothly segueing each quiet moment into speech and Kato is grateful for such an accommodating conversation partner. But after a while, they’re bantering like old friends and Kato learns that Koyama is planning on taking over his mother’s restaurant, that Koyama failed his high school entrance exam, that Koyama has this look whenever he takes a bite that makes him look five and in awe, that he really loves food and a million other things he feels embarrassed about noticing but can’t help. Before either of them realize, it’s been three hours and Kato feels oddly comfortable with this man who is still sort of a stranger, though less so now.
He decides that, if this is the result of just three hours, from now on he wants more of Koyama’s undivided attention.
Koyama insists on paying the bill and Kato waits on the sidewalk for him. “No class today?” “No, I have some work to do at the library is all.” They walk in companionable silence for a while until Kato realizes he has no idea where they’re going. He mentions the fact laughingly to Koyama who chuckles and says, “But it feels good to walk around, doesn’t it?” They do a little window shopping, each deliberately pointing out ridiculous outfits and hats that they just know the other wants and Kato even tries one on and models it for Koyama who practically doubles over in laughter at the feathery concoction on Kato’s head and earns them both a reproving look from a saleslady. Finally, Kato looks at his watch and says, “It’s almost time for the shop to open,” and Koyama nods solemnly. “It’s been fun,” Kato says. “Let’s do it again,” they both say at the same time.
Koyama quirks his lips up and lowers his head so that his hair spills over his eyes, setting Kato’s heart on fire.
32 weeks
Koyama is out at the park with his sister and nephews when he receives a mail from Kato to which is attached a rather familiar photograph of himself - playing with his nephews … at the park. He grins when he sees it and extricates himself from the arms of Haruto. “Uncle Kei will be right back, Haru-chan.” He stands and looks around, quickly spotting Kato sitting on a bench not too far away. They both grin and he jogs over to Kato. “Are you my own personal stalker?” he asks as he sits. “I guess, if you want one that bad, I can do it for you,” Shige replies airily. Their knees touch as they relax against the bench and watch Koyama’s sister playing with the boys.
He finds it difficult to focus with Koyama so close and warm next to him and he has to remind himself to not openly admire.
And then Koyama stands and grabs Kato’s hand and pulls him up and they’re standing so close he can smell the other boy’s shampoo. But after a tense heartbeat Koyama moves away and tugs him after and says, “You’re going to meet my nephews. Can you believe I’m an uncle?” And Kato can, really, he seems perfectly suited to the job, is what he tells him and Koyama’s smile is blinding. “Onee-san,” he says, and drops Kato’s hand, “this is my friend, Kato Shigeaki-san. Kato-san, my sister.” They exchange greetings and Kato absently rubs his now-empty fingers against each other. The older nephew clings shyly to his uncle’s leg and Koyama does a funny shuffleturn to get Haruto to face Kato. “Haruto-chan. This is Kato-san, ok?”
The boy grins and hides his face in Koyama’s pant leg and everyone laughs at the affectation.
His other nephew, Ren, is too small to understand what’s going on but the five of them laugh and play together for an hour, Haruto finally giving up the shy farce and chasing Kato around the fountain before “catching” him and tickling his belly. “Saaave me,” Kato whines but Koyama is too busy laughing at them before he joins in the tickling himself and Kato just laughs ‘til he cries. The good times come to an end when Koyama looks at his watch and realizes the time. He quickly says his goodbyes to his sister and Kato before bending down to kiss his youngest nephew. He then scoops Haruto into his arms and whirls him around once - Koyama’s eyes are closed and he hugs Haru close to him, smooshing their cheeks together. They both look so happy, so content, that it makes Kato’s heart ache.
It is unbelievable, he thinks, to be consumed by such desire.
52 weeks
Kato is waiting patiently for his bill when a plate is slid in front of him. On it are two small cakes each with a candle in the middle. He looks up at Koyama. “Happy anniversary!” Kato looks confused but obligingly blows out the candles. “It’s been one year today since you first came in.” Awe infuses Kato’s expression. “And the other?” he asks. “Two months since our first kiss,” he says and grins. The younger man bites his lip and smiles before looking at the desserts. “Shouldn’t the one year one be bigger?” he asks mock-seriously as he regards the cakes. Koyama smiles contentedly at him. “No. The two months are just as important as the year.” He catches his breath at the look in Koyama’s eyes and suddenly he has an overwhelming urge to be as close to him as possible. He leans forward instinctively and Koyama accommodates him by leaning across the counter and their cheeks slide together. “I want to take you home with me,” Kato whispers in his ear, his husky voice even deeper than usual. Koyama steps back and regards him thoughtfully. “All right,” he says, after a pause. “All right?” Kato is surprised. “Yes. Kimi is due in half an hour and I think they can manage without me tonight. Eat your cake while I finish,” he says with a wink.
Koyama removes his apron as he walks away and Kato smirks at the thoughts the act inspires.
They walk silently side by side, their fingers brushing with every swing as they walk toward Shige’s apartment. Rusty sunlight glints off windows and oncoming windshields coloring everything a dusky orange. Kato feels the tension between them - like a big cat, muscles coiled and tense, ready to pounce but rubbing sensuously against their legs. Kato looks behind at Koyama as they climb the stairs and he can practically feel the heat from the man’s eyes. And he realizes that Koyama is the cat - his movements are graceful, all power forced into fluidity and his eyes are strangely dark.
Kato trips and forces himself to focus on the next step, the next step, the next step until he wrestles open the door, grateful for the distraction.
“Somehow,” Kato says breathlessly when Koyama is standing inches away from him, just inside the door, “I feel like you’vetaken me home.” Koyama’s smirk is feral. “Not yet.” It’s all Kato can do to turn away to shut and lock the door then lead Koyama to his bedroom. He’s suddenly shy when he turns to face the other man who shuts the bedroom door carefully behind him and leans against it for a moment, dragging his gaze up Kato’s body, stopping for a moment on the full lips before catching his eyes. Then Koyama is wrapping long arms around him and capturing his lips in a smoldering kiss. They fumble with buttons, belt buckles and zippers, dragging fingers and lips along newly exposed flesh until Koyama is on his knees in front of Kato and taking his erection into his mouth, coaxing lewd moans from his lips. He doesn’t stay long and Kato groans in loss when Koyama stands up, sliding himself against Kato all the way up before grinding their erections together then lowering the other man to the bed. Kato’s breathing is heavy as Koyama slinks his way up his body, pressing kisses against his thigh, navel, nipple, neck and he bites down there and Kato bucks against him, his eyes rolling back. Then Koyama is kissing him and there’s tenderness amidst the hunger and it’s enough to bring Kato back to himself and he rolls over to fumble out lube and a condom from the night table. He hands them to Koyama with a deepening blush and averted eyes but Koyama takes them from him and turns his face with warm fingers. There’s a need for permission in his eyes and Kato nods carefully, trying to breathe. Koyama presses him down and settles between his legs.
He cups Kato’s cheek with a hand and then his fingers spill across Kato’s chest, setting his senses on fire.
Koyama is unsurprisingly gentle as he prepares Kato and when he finally presses in there is just strange discomfort and very little pain. Koyama smoothes his hands down Kato’s chest as they wait for him to adjust and Kato can feel them trembling against him. “It’s okay,” he whispers after a moment. And Koyama nods shakily and pulls back to push in again gently, each time going a little further until he is fully sheathed. He feels Koyama grip his hips hard as he begins thrusting more forcefully and then Kato is gasping against an overwhelmingly pleasant sensation and panting out “Kei, Kei,” with small puffs of breath. After what seems like both seconds and hours Koyama becomes erratic and takes to rolling his hips against Kato’s ass, as deep as he can get, and he brushes Kato’s hand away from his erection to pump him firmly to completion. A harsh moan rips from his throat as he releases himself across Koyama’s fingers and slumps back against the pillows. Koyama follows shortly after, pressing his hips hard against Kato with short thrusts before stilling completely. Their breath is warm on each other’s faces as Koyama leans over Kato, supporting himself on trembling arms to press their foreheads together for a moment. Protesting muscles force Koyama up and off and he cleans them both up with his boxers before drawing the blankets over them and curling against the other man, laying his head against his chest. Kato smoothes his fingers through Koyama’s hair, feeling the steady rise and fall of his chest, the warm even breaths across his skin and he smiles fondly down at him. The word “forever” floats across his drowsy mind and, as though reading his thoughts, Koyama looks up and smiles at him sleepily. Kato’s breath catches.
It is unbelievable, he thinks, to be consumed by such desire.