Ryouma snorted, a flush burning over his sharp cheekbones, but a smile curving around his mouth -- then he grabbed Kakashi, backed him up hard against the wall, and licked his way up Kakashi’s throat. Low and deep, with a rumble Kakashi could feel, he said: “Been dreamin’ of this for six months. So long as you don’t mind, I don’t.”

Whatever thoughts Kakashi had been having crashed and wrecked, lost in a strangled groan. Ryouma laughed, chasing hot breath across his throat. His hands were at Kakashi's waistband. Drenched in scent and heat and the feel of Ryouma's entire body pressed against him, trapping him in place, Kakashi realized he was about to be the one in trouble if they didn't make it to a horizontal surface.

"Bed," he managed, grabbing Ryouma back -- as much to steady himself as to make the point -- and shoved them both away from the wall.

Ryouma moved with him, easy as breathing, as if he'd never gone away. They landed on stiffly made bedsheets, Kakashi underneath, absorbing the fall easily, and it was another strange moment to realize that even with the height difference, he was stronger than Ryouma. He could feel the asymmetry between them; his new-found solidness against Ryouma’s whipcord leanness.

But Ryouma’s teeth were at his pulse, and his hands were skating lower, and Kakashi didn’t care.

He raised one hand to grip the headboard, splayed the other over the scar-cut crescent between hip and ribcage, and let Ryouma do exactly what he wanted.