Dinner Etiquette

Misaki has an idea of what lovemaking should feel like, and no matter how many he makes love, his dreams and reality never seems to match up. Maybe it's because he feels that lovemaking should be sensual, peaceful and serene, while every instant in which Usagi-san attacks him, he seems to be screaming bloody murder about one thing or another; be it, "Pervert Usagi-san!", "Let me go!", or "Don't say such embarrassing things!" (Although, more likely than not, it's all three)

It may also be because, up until meeting his older lover, he had never even considered being with a man, and while he had also never been very interested in dating girls, he'd always imagined himself on top, muttering sweet words of love and devotion into the ear of his fragile, trembling lover (it's worth mentioning, however, that he's never actually thought of it! He's not a dirty pervert, unlike some people), but it seems that Usagi-san has stolen his lines, and makes a point of repeating them as often as possible into his ear, as he's trembling in the heat of passion like some girl. The low tremor of his voice seems to echo in Misaki's brain, the words ("I love you.", "Don't let anyone but me touch you.", and "Promise that you'll never leave my side.") resounding in the air, heavy with the scent of love and sweat and Misaki's pervious ejaculate, until they're ingrained into his eardrums.

He feels that even if Usagi-san is to someday leave him, he will never have the ability to forget his words.

He pulls himself from his thoughts, concentrating on the task at hand- one of great love and devotion that Usagi-san sure as Hell had better appreciate, or else. He prides himself on his courage, his ability to stay strong in such a situation with his flimsy masculinity still intact. He is fearless and straightforward in the midst of a disaster. He is a Takahashi, after all. His brother has raised him strong. He's been bred to face obstacles, fated since the day of his conception to face such trials, and he mentally pats himself on the back as he struggles to smile, knowing that if he could, he would boast of his bravery to Usagi-san and, in turn, be rewarded with the man's endless admiration.

And he would, of course, if his mouth weren't currently full of Usagi-san; or rather, an extremely well-endowed portion of the writer's Adonis-esque body.

"Misaki-"

Usagi-san croaks, husky-voiced in the dim light of his bedroom, illuminated only by the stars that pour their souls through the cracks in the curtains, heaving heavy sighs and puffs of breath as he runs perpetually chilly fingers through Misaki's tousled hair.

"Misaki, you're amazing-"

The younger male fights the urge to gag, working the exposed shaft with nimble hands as his head bobs forward and back, mimicking what he can remember of each of he and his lover's previous lovemaking sessions. He recalls the uncontrollable pleasure that coursed through his veins when Usagi-san ran the wide, flat surface of his tongue along the underside of the head and the humiliating, unmasked moans that poured from his lips like the precum that Usagi-san lapped up greedily when the writer cradled his testicles in chilly palms. He knows that everyone must feel good in different places, that tastes and pressure points must vary like personalities, but he prays that he's giving Usagi-san even half of the pleasure that the older man has given him over the years because that, he feels, would be more than enough for anyone.

"Misaki- I'm-"

Usagi-san tries to push his head away, but he stays firmly in place. He is determined to get the man off, no matter how long it takes. He hasn't been building up his courage all these years for nothing.

The writer convulses, fisting Misaki's hair as his seed shoots into the younger male's unassuming throat. Misaki chokes, pulling back just in time to catch a face-full of cum, surprisingly complacent as it coats his cheeks and eyelids and chin, pondering the salty taste that lingers on his tongue as Usagi-san attempts to catch his breath.

Misaki doesn't know what to do with himself and Usagi-san's eyes are shocked when he finally pries them open, revealing his jittery, cum-soaked, madly-flushing boyfriend, who waits nervously in his lap as he slowly begins to collect the pieces of his shattered composure.

"Misaki-"

Voice thick with concern, eyes alight with resurfacing list, Usagi-san pulls his young lover into the chastest kiss he can muster while the boy is covered in his seed, smiling fondly as he wipes the excess from Misaki's half-lidded eyes.

"I love you."

He whispers affectionately, and Misaki bites back the urge to reply, shame suddenly returning tenfold with the crimson that rises to his cheeks. He runs through the "Lovemaking List" he compiled in his head:

It must be peaceful.

It must be kind.

You should say "I love you".

You should wear a condom.

The lights should be off (but candles are okay).

Both parties should be satisfied when you're through.

Then, you cuddle.

He considers debating this list with Usagi-san, bringing up the absence of candles and condoms, but when the older man scoops him into his lap, running cold fingers over his sensitive nipples, grinding his reawakening erection against the uncomfortable bulge in his pants, Misaki knows that in order to maintain his sanity, some things are best kept secret.

This, however, doesn't stop Usagi-san from making a mess of him all night long, or over breakfast the following morning.

And somehow, he's not quite as aggravated as he should be when the eggs end up burned and Usagi-san suggests takeout.

Fin.

Alright, this is definitely the "wordiest" story I've written in a while, and that's really saying something. You see, we've been watching Dracula movies in my History of Motion Pictures class (as to compare how the image of vampires has changed as film effects have become more efficient), and something about Dracula makes me want to write gay smut.

Anywho, I've recently become caught up with the Junjou Romantica manga. The storyline is, of course, one-hundred-fifty percent better than the anime, but I definitely prefer the anime's art style. It's just more… polished, I guess.

If you were wondering, the title is due to my lame sense of humor. It's inspired by the common rule of: "Don't talk with your mouth full", of food, of course, but in Misaki's case, his mouth is full of penis.

Well, that's all from me. Thank you so much for reading, and please feel free to leave a review and let me know what you thought!