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“No.” Kazuya repeated for the third time. “We can’t afford it.”
“But Kaz, it’s hot.” Eijun whined from his place in front of the fan.
Kazuya reached out and ruffled his hair. “I know, I really do, but we do need to save our money, so we can’t. Give it a few months, and we’ll be able to.”
Tokyo in May was usually spring-like, with highs in the low 20’s, with warm breezes and cool nights. This year, though, they were having a heat wave—highs in the low 30’s all week, without any relief in sight. The nights didn’t even get cool, sidewalks and buildings retaining heat and making it difficult to sleep.
Eijun sighed. They’d only been living in the apartment since the school year began, and he knew they were still short on funds. His parents had helped as much as they could, and they both had their scholarships and stipends, but there was only so much extra at the end of the month.
“I understand. It’s just stupid hot. What happened to spring?”
“I have no idea, Ei. Scooch over though, and quit hogging the fan.”
“You’re the one who’s too cheap to spring for a.c.; you sit over there and roast.”
“Wrestle you for it.”
“Do I look like Mochi?” Eijun was unimpressed. “Besides which, I’m too hot to move that much.”
“Please? I’ll be your best friend!” Kazuya cajoled, trying to bring him around.
Eijun cackled with laughter. “Are you three? Wow.” He moved over a bit. “Here you go. But you’re already my best friend.”
Kazuya slid into the spot near the fan. “Sucker,” he commented, kissing Eijun on the cheek.
“Sap.” Eijun replied, sliding his hand into his boy’s, leaning on Kazuya’s shoulder.
Two days later, Kazuya stepped into their apartment, expecting to see Eijun splayed out in front of the fan as he’d been for the last couple of days. Instead, he heard him in the kitchen, washing the dishes that had piled up, singing a song. Kazuya dropped his stuff in the genkan, and walked quietly towards the kitchen doorway, wanting to watch Eijun unobserved.
He peeked his head around the corner and froze. Eijun was in the kitchen, cleaning as expected, but he was wearing a...dress? It was sleeveless, and looked like it was made from t-shirt material. What was really odd was that Eijun wasn’t just cleaning; he was swaying and moving to the song he was singing, causing the dress to swirl around himself.
Kazuya did know whether to be appalled or applaud. He did know, though, that he was suddenly very, very interested in whatever it was that Eijun was wearing under that dress. He stood upright and stepped into the kitchen.
“Eijun, what are you doing?” He asked, curious.
Eijun looked up from the stove he was wiping down. “Okaeri, Kaz!” he greeted, “I’m cleaning, what does it look like? Do you need your prescription checked or something?”
“Fair enough.” Kazuya chuckled. “What are you wearing?”
“A dress? Seriously, did your glasses stop working?” Eijun tossed the sponge into the sink and twirled to face Kazuya, skirt spinning around his thighs.
“Oh dear god, you’re getting worse than me.” Kazuya shot Eijun a glare, daring him to answer with the expected response to that.
Eijun sped right past any warning signs with a smirk and a cheery, “Thank you.”
Advancing into the kitchen, Kazuya noted Eijun’s sunny grin, the one that told him that his boy was up to absolutely no good. Stopping in front of him, Kazuya asked, slightly exasperated and very deliberately, “Where did you get that dress and why are you wearing it?”
“Well, it’s a bit of a story.” Eijun started, watching Kazuya closely. “Basically, I was talking to Wakana about the heat, and she sent me this dress, saying that swing dresses were the absolute coolest thing she’d ever worn. And she was right.” He swayed, just a little, causing the skirt to swirl. “They move when you do, and create a breeze. You should try it sometime.”
Kazuya’s eyes were glued on the swirl of the skirt, fascinated by the glimpse of thigh. “And what does one wear under such a thing?” Kazuya inquired, stepping closer, crowding him against the counter, just a bit.
Eijun’s eyes brightened with mischief. “Whatever one wants, I suppose.” He replied, with an eyebrow raise. “Why do you ask, Kazu-kun?” He smirked and pushed him back a few steps, hopping up to sit on the counter, legs swinging.
Kazuya’s eyes widened as he watched Eijun. He knew that when his boy got into one of these moods, there wasn’t much he could do but hang on for the ride and hope he’d survive.
“Are you a naughty boy, senpai? Want to peek up my skirt?” Eijun asked, in the tone that he reserved only for Kazuya, only for times like these.
Kazuya stepped closer and laid his hands on Eijun’s knees, hands under the skirt but not moving. Simply waiting for permission. “Oh, dear god, yes.”
Eijun leaned forward, laying his arms on Kazuya’s shoulders, “Kiss me.”
“Gladly.” Kazuya moved forward, softly laying his lips on Eijun’s.
Eijun wrapped his fingers around the back of Kazuya’s neck, and pulled him closer, deepening the kiss. Kazuya kept his hands where they were, on Eijun’s knees, tightening his grip to keep them from straying.
Breaking the kiss, Eijun nibbled along Kazuya’s jaw, to his ear. Once there, he whispered, “Do you remember the white panties?” as he gradually sat up to meet Kazuya’s burning gaze.
“Yes.” Kazuya said, again. “Dear god, yes.” His eyes glazed over a bit, as he remembered. “You said there were three pair. I’ve seen the white, and the black...red? Are you wearing the red panties?” His gaze sharpened, and he left the past for the present, current hunger replacing the memories.
Eijun pouted, just a little. “Miyuki Kazuya, do you never listen to me? I told you that none of them were red.” He tugged on his skirt, pushing Kazuya’s hands off, looking at him through his eyelashes.
“You’re right, you did.” Kazuya remembered. “That day we ate dinner on the field, the day Haruichi took that picture. I’m sorry I forgot.” He made sure to refer to the actual memory; he didn’t want Eijun to think he was lying.
“You’re good, Kaz.” Eijun said, impressed. “I think I’ll let you take a peek.”
Kazuya leaned in to kiss Eijun, drawing him closer and wrapping his arms around his waist, tongues and heat and fire and lust and want, so much want. Eijun indulged him, answering heat with fire, want with love, until he broke the kiss and sat back, placing Kazuya’s hands on his knees. “Go ahead, senpai.”
“You show me, gorgeous.” Kazuya whispered, unable and unwilling to keep the need out of his voice.
Eijun met his eyes and smiled, “As you wish.”
Kazuya watched avidly as Eijun inched up the hem of the skirt, slowly revealing his thighs, creeping past and up, up, until Kazuya got a peek of…“Pink? They’re pink? May I?” Eijun nodded, and Kazuya laid his hands on Eijun’s knees, reverentially. Sliding his hands up, up those thighs that he’d been obsessed with since he’d walked through the door, he ran his thumbs over the lacy elastic that edged the panties. “You’re so fucking beautiful, Ei, I don’t know what to do.”
“Do what you want, Kaz, I’m all yours.”
Kazuya let out a low growl at the words, and sank to his knees in front of Eijun, hands working under the skirt, touching the lace and the ever growing hardness within it, tongue and mouth wreaking havoc on his thighs, marking and sucking his way up, up to the apex of his legs, to the thing he most wanted to explore.
“This feels familiar.” Eijun was able to huff out, “Me in a skirt and you between my thighs. Do you think we’ll need the safe word this time?” He snarked.
Kazuya emerged from under the skirt, and glared. He continued to glare at Eijun for about five seconds, and then started to laugh. “I cannot believe you went there. That was not my finest hour, I must admit. Could you imagine how much trouble we would have been in if a teacher had walked in? God, we were idiots.” He stood up and leaned his forehead on Eijun’s, still chucking.
“Yeah, we were, weren’t we? It was still awesome, though. You looked amazing.”
“You did too, thus the head between the thighs.”
“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to interrupt. Please, do feel free to carry on.” Eijun said, airily, waving a languid hand in Kazuya's direction.
"Someone's been watching Downton Abbey." Kazuya smirked at his boy. “Shall we take this into the bedroom? It’d be much more comfortable there.”
“And more sanitary, I’m sure, Mr. My-kitchen-is-sacred-ground.” Eijun returned the smirk, and jumped down from the counter. He sauntered past Kazuya, skirt flaring.
“Are you coming? I’m topping, and I’m not planning on using the safe word.” Eijun strolled out of the room, and Kazuya found himself scrambling after.
Omake
Later that day, Kazuya sent a text to Wakana. “Thank you, Wakana. You’re a goddess.”
Wakana didn’t answer the text, but a few days later Kazuya got a package from her. He had to admit she was right, swing dresses were the coolest thing ever.
They never did buy an air conditioner.