[牛天 | UshiTen]: Our Flowers

Part 44: [i beg you]

Note:

Happy birthday, my baby Satori-kun! You are my sweetest boy, and nothing can ever change that. I will do my best to write a super hot and cute chapter for you today! We love you so much!!! ❤️

~~~

Satori was just basking in the pure pleasure of hearing those pet names he had been waiting for, for some many years now. Now, they were poured over his generously, without any more restraint, without any shame. It was as if Wakatoshi-kun had finally accepted the reality of their shared life, and was slowly, uncertainly, making small steps into it, entering into the world that was just their own, an air-tight bubble that nobody else had access to.

The thought was so nice, the contentment was so great, that Tendō was smiling, tilting his head to the side, letting his husband have full access to his most vulnerable, softest places, as they were kneeling in the sturdy bed, not in a hurry, taking their time to enjoy their petting.

Yes, there was time, the night was young, the wine made their hearts beat faster, and they felt warmer together. Slow, tortuous kisses were covering Satori's skin, making him pant, eager already, turned on too much. His own hands were mirroring Wakatoshi's movements, and he too was stroking over the muscular back, over the amazingly firm buttocks, teasing too, getting his own revenge for the too-tender petting he was receiving – a thing that was nice, but which made him so extremely aroused that the hems of his underwear were threatening to burst wide open. He knew, he didn't have to look down to know, that the situation inside his lover's briefs was the same.

- My Toshi... Please... - he whimpered, too impatient, already aching for something harsher, more intimate, more primal.

Ushijima was humming quietly into all the kisses he was leaving over the tender skin, listening to the pleas for more, but resolute to make it all right  tonight, give all his affection to his beloved, express his love not through his words, but through his lips. They were so close to each other, hugging each other so much, feeling each other, skin-on-skin, like the perfect statue of two lovers, divided only by a thin layer of cloth, a pathetic obstacle in the way of their union that didn't even deserve mentioning...

In the very beginning he had thought that it would be crass, a debacle, a perverse display of everything wrong with modern understandings of marriage and sexuality. He hadn't really considered any of it before; if asked – he wouldn't have been able to define his own sexuality, nor had he ever considered marriage as any of his top priorities. But in time, as things for them changed, he realized that he had found pure love,  an absolute that should not exist in nature, as unconditional love was supposed to be given unto us just and solely by God. His rational mind had to test this, as cruel as it was, and for the longest time he had no problem with observing and analyzing behavior, expecting some slip on the part of his partner, some gruesome fault,  an excuse to place a blame, and also – a rationalization, justification, a vindication, a logical premise that would have made it all compliant with his own vigilant modus operandi,  which was primarily his own cold, calculating brain.

He knew that Satori wasn't stupid; he strongly suspected that the red-head was aware of all this. And yet, he never slipped, forever patient and kind. Adoring him. At first – adoring him from a distance.

But he had been wrong. There was no ratio about all this. Their love was poetry. It was art, and art defies science, on a whim, forever borderline flirting with it.