Only The Constant Matter

Only The Constant Matter

Author's Note: This'll get smuttier in later chapters. Hope that's okay!


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Murata came over every Wednesday, Thursday and Friday after school. Sometimes he spent the night, though never intentionally. It was a rhythm they fell into easily, and Yuri liked it too much to ask how it had happened. It seemed like a better idea to just let it be.

Though he didn't actually say anything, Murata seemed to feel the same way, finding Yuri after school to walk home together. They didn't get bullied anymore, which was nice. Sometimes they had baseball practice, but mostly they sat by side, watching the world around them and making a comment here and there about what things would be like in Shin Makoku this time of year.

They'd only been back once so far. It still made Yuri smile, thinking about how Greta's hand felt in his as she pulled him along, or how - unthinkable though it was - he could actually miss Morgif's strange singing.

"I bet they're having some party right now," said Yuri as Murata sat on the floor, against his bed, playing with a stray rubix cube. "I wonder what they'd serve..."

"I bet there'd be cute girls," piped Murata, twisting one side of the cube, glasses glinting as Yuri flopped onto the bed. "They dress warmer in the spring."

"You sound like such a pervert," said Yuri, frowning. "Always talking about girls."

"Not half as much as you talk about food," Murata countered. "So what would that make you? A food fetishist?"

"It makes me hungry, that's all," said Yuri with disinterest. He sighed, looking up at his ceiling thoughtfully. "How come you haven't pushed me into any lakes lately?"

"Lakes?"

"You know - so we can go back again," said Yuri. He frowned as he spoke. While it was true that he wanted to go back to Shin Makoku, for some reason, his heart wasn't in it. He missed everyone: Greta, Gunther, Gwendal, Conrad...Wolfram.

When he didn't hear Murata's answer, Yuri rolled onto his stomach, inching towards the end of the bed. He looked at his friend, who seemed not to hear him. Slowly, he stuck out one finger and poked him in the cheek. "Hey."

To say it surprised him when Murata turned was putting it mildly; his finger, originally placed on Murata's cheek, was now square on top of his lips. Murata's eyes weren't visible from behind the reflecting lenses, making the strange pull in Yuri's stomach feel that much stronger. He felt the brush of Murata's tongue against his fingertip and he pulled back, yelping in surprise.

Murata lowered his head, a bare smirk playing on his lips. "Sorry. I thought you would move your hand," he explained.

Yuri grumbled about how strange Murata was being and Murata laughed, suggesting they play video games.

---

That had been on Friday. It wasn't until Wednesday, when they were walking along together, that Yuri remembered that strange feeling. He hadn't thought about it at all, even when he'd met Murata briefly to ask about an assignment from class. Looking at him, up close, made it all come rushing back.

Is something wrong with me? he thought quietly, only somewhat paying attention to what Murata was saying. Why are my palms sweaty? Did I get food poisoning?

His thoughts stopped abruptly when he felt Murata's hand on his shoulder. Turning to look back at him, he flinched.

"Shibuya - were you paying attention to any of what I was saying?"

Yuri looked apologetic. "Not...completely."

"I need to take care of something these next two weeks," Murata said calmly, not quite letting go of Yuri's shoulder as he spoke. "I'll be ready to go to Shin Makoku after that."

"Really?" asked Yuri, perking up. "Great! But why two weeks?"

Murata walked up ahead, his voice echoing back to Yuri's ears. "You're really nosy, you know that?"

Yuri ran to catch up.

---

That Friday, Murata fell asleep on Yuri's bed while they were watching True Lies. His head lolled against Yuri's pillow, mouth half-open, looking content. Yuri tried to shake him awake, not wanting to sleep on the floor. Sharing a bed was out of the question - only weird people like Wolfram did that willingly.

Failing to reclaim his bed, Yuri went in search of pillows and a blanket to cushion his night on the floor. When he returned to his room, he switched off the last light. Murata seemed to wake two seconds later when he said Yuri's name.

"I thought you were asleep," said Yuri, throwing the sleeping materials on the floor and sitting on top of them unceremoniously.

"I was, until you left," said Murata. The bedspread rustled as he sat up. "Why are you on the floor?"

"You took my bed," said Yuri, trying to turn his pout into a grumble as he spoke.

Murata chuckled. "You sound so miserable down there." Yuri recognized the sound of his covers being tugged on top of the bed. "Just get in."

"With you?" Yuri asked, brow wrinkling. He thought about it: Murata probably wouldn't try to curl up to him like Wolfram sometimes did, but still, the bed was pretty small and having to share it between them would mean lining up side by side; Yuri preferred to sleep on his back, arms slightly outstretched. "There's not enough room," he said finally.

"Fine," said Murata cheerfully. "I guess this means I get the whole bed to myself!" He burrowed deeper beneath the covers.

"Hey, wait!" said Yuri, standing and pointing angrily. "If you're awake, you should switch with me!"

"But I'm the guest."

"No, you're just...you," sputtered Yuri. He leaned down, pulling at his covers, trying to get them free from Murata's effective grasp. "Let...go!"

"Are you always this feisty?" asked Murata with amusement when he pulled hard, Yuri crashing onto the bed in muffled swears. He patted the top of Yuri's head. "There there."

"Stop patting me," muttered Yuri, sleep heavy on his eyes at the feel of the bed beneath him; it was already warm, making Yuri want to go to bed even more. "Fine," he conceded. "Move over."

Murata didn't say anything else as he inched back, letting Yuri climb in with him. Their bodies met awkwardly under the covers, legs shifting apologetically away. Yuri yawned and closed his eyes, blinking them open when Murata's arm moved atop his own, hand finding Yuri's. "Um. Murata?"

When no response came, he tried shifting his head, to see if maybe Murata was watching him - or maybe even testing him somehow. Maybe Murata was just pulling some sort of strange joke that Yuri didn't (and probably wouldn't) get. A half-open mouth and a peaceful, sleepy look greeted his eyes.

He sighed, waiting for the strange switch in his pulse to subside before yawning again and giving over to sleep.

---

Saturday morning started off with heat and skin and lips and Murata's hand. Yuri still felt fuzzy with sleep as his body arched, back and up against the surrounding warmth. His eyes were still mostly closed and as he breathed in, he felt familiar and safe, but also, embarrassingly, aroused.

It was something that began to happen recently - dreams that left him feeling awkward and often spent in the mornings, after images he couldn't always remember, things that felt weird, but in a way that was too good to want to quit entirely. To have it happen when sharing a bed was mortifying, though even more so when realizing that he'd been pushing up against Murata's hand, which cupped him above the thin pajamas.

He stopped, mind racing.

Should he stop? Pretend to sleep and keep going? Turn around and ask Murata if this was okay? No, that would just be awkward. Only he hadn't done this with anyone before and even if Murata was asleep, having someone else's hand there felt kind of unbelievably good...

Eyes sliding shut, Yuri shifted, testing to see if Murata would wake. He counted up to one minute, heart thudding when nothing happened. Biting down on his lip, he wrapped his fingers lightly around Murata's wrist, holding it steady as he pushed his erection up into the warm, soft hand.

The fear of being discovered, of being embarrassed, melted away with how Murata's hand moved across his cock, the fabric rustling with each stroke. Yuri chanced a quick glance downward, watching Murata's hand as he continued moving it back and forth across his covered length. Murata exhaled against his neck and Yuri had to swallow down a moan. He had no idea something as simple as a breath could feel like that and wondered if he'd get to feel it again.

Groggy, sleepy noises sounded from Murata, each one falling hotly on Yuri's neck as he opened his mouth. Yuri was almost squirming now, close to his orgasm - to the wetness he usually didn't get to experience like this. He continued looking down at Murata's hand just over his cock, wishing he had enough courage to pull his pajama bottoms a little - to have Murata's thin fingers wrap around his cock, pumping it harder and watching the resulting spray of white on his knuckles. Just the thought excited him, though he knew he'd later get red-faced at the notion. Right now though...it was different.

He was so close, and everything Murata was doing felt good - almost as if it was intentional somehow, though he could tell from the nearly-limp fingers in his hand that Murata was still one hundred percent unconscious. That didn't stop Yuri from noticing as he strained to keep silent that Murata was hard.

He knew it should make him stop, knowing he might have inadvertently aroused someone else while they were sleeping - especially so when his movements meant he was rubbing against said arousal. Instead, it made him rub harder, seeking out the press of blunt skin against his ass as he guided Murata's hand in faster movements against his cock. Feeling desperate for skin-to-skin contact, he freed the tip of his cock from his pajamas, moaning involuntarily as Murata's fingers rubbed across them. He cupped the fingers around his shaft when he came, not wanting to wake Murata as he shot wet and white liquid onto his stomach, watching it drip messily down to his sheets.

After several moments, he was able to regain his breath. Murata's hand lay easily on his hip. Feeling dizzy, Yuri stood, trying to wipe off what he could before heading to the bathroom to clean himself off, thoughts spinning too fast to think fully about what he'd just done, or why.

As the door shut, Murata breathed out, eyes wide with tension. "Oh sure. Don't mind me or anything, Shibuya," he muttered to an empty room.

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