Junichi pokes his head out of the wardrobe, clearly angry. “D-did you just hiss at him? What the hell is wrong with you?”

“What is this?” the gaudy cat-vampire says, circling me. I’m genuinely getting freaked out, so I take another step back. “Is he a human or a vampire? I can’t tell!”

Junichi hesitates for a moment, looking at me, and I catch his eye. It’s as if he’s considering the question, like he isn’t quite sure himself. He shakes his head. “Hisaki, stand up straight and stop acting like an asshole. You’re being fucking rude right now.”

Ah. This is Hisaki… He does as commanded and stands up straight, but points at me like we’re fighting while looking at Junichi. “Why does he smell like this? He reeks of ambiguity and confusion. I’m around humans all the time and they have a very distinct smell—but his smell is not quite human, not quite vampire either…”

Hisaki whips his head back, ponytail swinging and eyes narrowed on me. “It’s as if there’s a vampire hidden inside him… or he ate one.”

My eyes are wide, terrified, as if he isn’t talking about me. That sounds horrific. I swear I’ve never eaten a vampire. I’ve never even had venison or quail… not that those things are comparable.

Junichi swears again, ducking back into the wardrobe. When he comes out a few seconds later, he has one of those fancy garment bags in his hand. He thrusts it at Hisaki’s chest, and his face is furious. “Apologize to him. Then take your fucking jacket and leave.”

Hisaki looks over at me like I’m a pile of stinky rubbish. “Why would I apolo—”

“APOLOGIZE NOW.”

Silence. The force and weight behind Junichi’s voice shock me, and I’m blinking at him as he stares at the pale little vampire. The latter turns to me and gives a curt bow. “My apologies.”

“Go home,” Junichi says, stalking back toward the wardrobe. Hisaki grips the garment and slinks toward the door. At the frame, he stops, turns back toward us and tilts his head.

“What about alterations?”

“Mejor lárgate de aquí!”

“Alright, I’m going… but I’ll be back next week.” He flips his ponytail and glides out of the room. Junichi takes a deep breath and apologizes to me. I tell him it’s not his fault, but he’s riled up.

He’s pretty miffed all the way through dinner and for the rest of the night, too. Complaining about ranked vampires and how utterly self-important and rude they can be. Hisaki-kun (the Hisaki-kun) is the worst example of this.

Junichi also has a source named Ren that sounds pretty contentious. He only goes to see Ren once every nine or ten days. He told me he should feed once a week to be in optimum health, but he can’t stand to see him that often. As a doctor of vampire health and medicine, this deeply concerns me.

After I’ve taken a gloriously hot shower and prepped myself (Jun did not want to join me and do the honors, oddly), we’re drinking beers on his lush, velvety sunflower sofa. I try to take his mind off what happened by sliding my fingers against his thigh to get things started, but he’s sweet in telling me he’s not in the mood. Apparently, Junichi doesn’t like having sex as an outlet to his frustration or when he’s angry. It’s not his thing, which I totally respect.

Instead, we end up talking about classic jazz and whether or not Kind of Blue is indeed the greatest jazz album of all time (he says yes, I say no. I argued Sunday at the Village Vanguard, but then that generated a heated discussion about live albums versus studio-recorded ones).

Later he tells me about the merengue and bachata music he listened to growing up with his mother, as well as some of his favorite modern artists. I’m making a mental list to research these next time I’m on my phone. That is, until I fall asleep facing him as we lie on the sofa together.

Nineteen

Jae

When I open my eyes on Sunday morning, the sun is bright yellow. It’s streaming in gloriously through the back-glass wall of Junichi’s house. Today we’re supposed to go have nabeyaki udon for lunch, then see the autumn leaves near Okutsukei Valley. The weather already seems perfect for it.

I’m warm. At some point in the night, Junichi wrapped us up in a very soft, luxuriously furry blanket. It’s black, like the seeds of the sunflower. It feels as if we’re lying on a bear (and I mean that in the most humane way possible). Junichi is behind me, and my back is against his chest. I can feel him solid and breathing deeply, cypressy and perfect.

When did I become a “little spoon” kind of guy? I don’t think I ever made this conscious choice, but I seem to end up in this position a lot when I’m intimate with men in particular. Who would I be the big spoon with? Is it a height thing? Bravado? Do I need someone shorter than me (I’m not even that short at five foot six inches), or would some shorter bloke with a Napoleon complex still have me as the little spoon?

This deserves deeper intellectual consideration later. For now, I’d like to properly get stuffed by this big, delicious spoon behind me. I keep having flashbacks about our first time. A random memory will hit me when I’m innocently moving about, creating a flash of heat deep in my groin and spine. It’s almost crippling and my face flushes.

I respect his aversion to angry sex. I’m not sure what mood he’ll be in this morning, so I just shift closer into him for a snuggle. He groans and pushes against me, sliding his hand underneath my T-shirt and holding my naked belly. My heartrate kicks up, but I’m perfectly still now. If we’re progressing, he needs to make the first move. He’s so warm behind me, and he’s not wearing a shirt (he had one on before I fell asleep, so he lost it sometime after). I’m perfectly nestled into him—back to chest, arse to groin, thighs to thighs. His face is in the top of my hair, and I can feel him breathing against my scalp.

He shifts again, this time gently grinding his cock against me, then clenching his fingers to tickle my stomach. A moment later, his long fingers move lower, sneaking underneath the elastic of my joggers. When he slides his hand inside and firmly grips me in his palm, I suck in a breath. “Christ.” I arch up and into him, and my lips are parted and dry. I lick them, but it feels like I’m being tortured now.

Jun moves his head down, nuzzling against my hair. His voice is groggy. “Good morning.”

“Good morning,” I say, but it comes out scratchy. My body is aching for him, as if my spine is on fire and the flames are spreading outward.

While he grips me, he’s kissing the back of my neck. Soft, flirty kisses that lead into the curve of my shoulder. I arch into him again, feeling his hard cock and it makes me feel primal—like an animal. God. I want him inside me again right now.

We keep playing this game of gently grinding into each other. I turn my head because I’m greedy and I want his mouth, too. He lifts up onto his elbow, leans down and gives me what I want. Now we’re slowly rocking and kissing, his tongue twisting against mine. I might come from this alone. Dry-humping. Like I’m a bloody teenager.

I pull away from the kiss because I’m close to losing my mind and I don’t want to climax like this. “I want all of you,” I tell him. He pulls his hand out of my trousers and leans down to kiss my neck. He shifts away from me like he’s getting up, but I grab his wrist, panicked. “Where are you going?” This all feels too sexy and lazy and perfect for him to move. I don’t want to lose this momentum.

He smiles. “To get lube and a condom.”

There’s a pointed moment of silence as I stare at him. “You… don’t have to.” And I mean it. Usually I’m very particular about condoms. Lube is also always necessary. Loads of it. Ranked vampires can’t even catch or give illnesses or STDs. Since I’m human, though, I can still tear and get infected, so I’m adamant about it.

But I have properly lost my marbles because I just want him inside me right now. No delay in the action.

He leans down, still smiling as he places a quick kiss on my mouth. “Yes, I do.” He drags his long body up and smoothly moves from the sofa and down the hall toward his bedroom. He disappears.

I flop down onto my stomach and suck in a deep breath. I really meant it. What the hell has gotten into me? Thank God one of us still has some self-control. I need to have a good long look at the man in the mirror when I’m back in my flat. “Now we’re willing to let vampires bareback us, are we?” I’ll ask him. “Where’s your sense of self-preservation, you horny bastard?”

I’m still lying on my stomach and internally berating myself when Junichi reappears with the proper tools for comfortable lovemaking. He drops them into the bend of the sofa as he straddles my arse, resting one knee into the cushions and his other leg bent with his foot still on the floor. He lifts the bottom of my T-shirt and uses his thumbs to firmly massage my lower back. I close my eyes. It feels incredible.

“Are we not in the mood anymore?” he asks. I can hear the grin behind his voice. My response is muffled because my face is pressed halfway into the furry blanket.

“We are.” He slides my shirt up higher, bending and kissing up the length of my naked spine. Inch by inch.

“I firmly believe,” he says, working his way down, “that good things come to those who wait.”

I smile. “Do those who wait come good?”

He chuckles. I love making him laugh. “Let’s experiment,” he says. “You can report your findings?” He grips the elastic waist of my joggers and slowly works them down. I lift my hips to make it easier for him, putting my arse in the air slightly as he kisses my lower back.

“Oh, the scientific method and sex—two of my favorite things neatly rolled into one. You charmer.”

I’m done being flirty when he shifts to his knees so he can kiss and lick my cheeks. I’m writhing because I’m not sure if he’s about to do what I think he might do, and I’m also not sure if I’m mentally and emotionally prepared for it.

When his nose presses between my cheeks and I feel his tongue flicker against my opening, I realize that I’m not prepared. At all. I gasp and make another unfamiliar sound. I shift away because this feels wild and wanton and I’m ashamed. I know about this, but no one has ever done it to me.

Junichi grips the front of my thighs and pulls me back into him after I’ve tried squirming away. He intentionally breathes warmly on me before lapping his tongue into my flesh again, and I whine in a way I never have. When he’s got me in his hands and his tongue is softly dipping inside me, I give myself over to it and try to let go of the shame I feel. To let him do this thing to me that really feels quite incredible if I get out of my own head.

Slowly, I relax my lower half, clenching the plush blanket in my fists in exchange and opening myself to him. Letting him have me. And he does—moving down to lick other parts of me that have never seen the light of day. Gently sucking and teasing me with his mouth, playfully pulling at me with his teeth.

Jun does this for what feels like an eternity, urging my body toward a new and extraordinary threshold where I’ve forgotten how to breathe. When I finally feel his slick finger carefully pressing into me, I come. Just one finger and I’m spent. Moaning and cursing with my face buried into the soft blanket and my eyes watering. What he’s just done to me… it’s too much. My skin feels hot and prickly from the raw pleasure of it.

Eventually, he urges a second slick finger inside and guides me to relax down. I do. I would do whatever he wanted at this point. I feel him lean over me, and his low voice is soft. “What does the data suggest so far?”