Fifty Shades of EraserMic (Shades of EraserMic #1)

Two Different Needles

Throbbing earlobes.

A burning hip.

The soft feels of hands on his skin, warm from the heat gathering beneath the blanket.

Shouta couldn't imagine a better way to spend his afternoon; couldn't imagine being anywhere but lying in bed with Hizashi's legs overlapping and sliding between his own, arms curled tightly around him and hands drifting lazily up and down his back sending tingles racing under his skin with each downward slide. His lips pressed firmly, warmly to Hizashi's holding that same lazy sensation/

The cool air from the air conditioner seemed intent on attacking at any possible expose skin as he curled strands of blonde hair around his fingers happily. It was a day he was grateful for. A day perfect for this and this alone. To lay in bed, the warmth radiating off of the blonde's skin that he was sinking into, and the soft feel of his skin twitching beneath his when he slid his own hand down his side earning him a sharp breath or a soft hum.

Nemuri kindly had offered to take out Hitoshi and Eri for the day, to drop them off at the dorms and give them the greenlight for when Shouta and Hizashi were ready for them to come home. When they were ready to leave the bedroom and be presentable adults again. He wanted to say he didn't get these days often with his husband but that would be a lie; his children were amazingly independent.

Hitoshi never seemed unwilling from letting Eri tag along to visit his students at the dorms and Eri seemed all to happy to get out of the house once in a while to see the other students of his. It gave them hours of time to do as they pleased; hours to lay, to kiss, to touch and exist next to one another. He shivered when nails dragged lightly along his skin, the lazy movement of their lips brushing quietly was hidden beneath the sound of the air conditioner.

Hidden beneath the soft music playing on their speaker in front of the tv. He felt arms hugging him tighter, squeezing him to the blonde comfortably prompting a soft hum to leave him as he curled himself to the blonde as if he could climb into his skin; sink down and be satisfied by the closeness. He had never, ever admitted it out loud but he loved when Hizashi held him tight. When he squeezed and clutched him to his chest like he was some cherished stuffed animal.

Like a pillow he had to hold close less he drop it off the side of the bed or lose it somehow. He loved those arms curling around him, legs twisting with his keeping him from pulling away easily, and he loved it when a hand would find its way into his hair to scratch over his scalp or tug lightly at the strands. They were all things his husband must have picked up from his reactions over the years to give him exactly what he needed.

What he wanted. He may be affectionate in private; he may curl and cuddle up to his husband or slide his arms around his waist when he was doing the dishes but sometimes it felt nice for Hizashi to just take the initiative and give him something he didn't know he had been wanting. He did the same for the blonde. He never knew how he timed it or how it came along when it did, but the way his husband would melt both physically and emotionally when he did the right thing at the right time?

Oh, he loved it. Loved how his husband was seeming to melt now with each soft brush of their lips with that lazy, warmth of their make out session that seemed to have been going on for an eternity now. An eternity he wanted to be longer. It felt physically impossible to think of pulling his lips away. Of uncurling, untwisting, himself from the blonde; he wanted to lay there, with those lips moving and pressing against his own softly.

Happily copying the movements of his own as hands slid up and down his back. As he twirled that soft, silky blonde hair around his fingers while sliding his own hand up and down the blonde's warm skin beneath the blanket. He could stay like this forever. He could live like this forever. Sixteen years in and he happily, excitedly looked forward to the sixteen that would follow. Seventeen. Twenty.