Shared Couch
Haru and Kaito had been living together for almost half a semester, ever since their first year of university began. The apartment was small, with only two bedrooms, a kitchenette, and a living room with a large secondhand couch they had bought together. They weren't close at first. Over time, they learned to share silence without discomfort, to take turns in the shower without complaint, and to eat pre-cooked meals in front of the TV.
Kaito was calm, methodical. He ran on coffee and binge-watched dark series. Haru would shuffle down the hallway in his slippers like he had nowhere to be, fell asleep with weird music in his earbuds, and often spent entire afternoons writing scattered sentences in a notebook. Kaito found it amusing. Haru found peace in Kaito’s calmness, even if he never said it out loud.
That Sunday afternoon, it was raining. They had already spent almost an hour watching a Japanese horror movie. Haru didn’t understand how Kaito had so much patience for such slow plots, but he still joined him—so long as he got to curl up under the blanket and snack on something.
"Don’t you think the silent scenes are too long?" Haru murmured without taking his eyes off the screen.
"That’s why I like them. They leave space," Kaito replied, not moving.
"Space for what?"
"For what’s not said."
Haru smiled to himself. He rested his head on Kaito’s shoulder, like he was seeking warmth more than comfort. The popcorn was cold and the blanket covered their legs. The room was dim, lit only by the bluish glow of the TV. The sound of the rain hitting the windows completed the mood.
At one point, a character in the movie began to breathe heavily in a dark hallway. Haru stopped looking at the screen and let his hand fall onto his own thigh. Beside him, Kaito did the same—but his hand didn’t stay still. It calmly drifted toward Haru’s pants.
The silence spoke louder than words.
Kaito’s fingers settled on the fabric, right where the bulge pushed against the material with a distinct shape. Haru looked down. His cheeks were burning. He didn’t move. The scene blended with the murmur of the rain.
Little by little, Haru brought his hand to Kaito’s crotch as well. As soon as he touched him, he felt the difference: longer, more curved, but much thinner than his own. The pressure under the pants confirmed it all.
"Are you comfortable like this?" Kaito whispered, eyes still on the TV.
"I'm more than comfortable," Haru answered, his voice lower than he expected.
Their touches were slow, restrained, as if they didn’t want to break the spell in the room. Kaito pressed gently, tracing the outline of Haru’s cock through the fabric. Haru did the same, feeling how his friend’s body reacted to every motion.
Kaito unzipped Haru’s pants slightly and slipped his hand inside. When he wrapped his fingers around his cock, he was surprised by the thickness: it was straight, throbbing, and so wide that he couldn’t close his hand all the way. It was around fifteen centimeters, but the girth made it feel much more imposing. The head was warm, damp, and pulsing hard in his palm.
Haru slumped further into the couch. His eyes were half-closed, and his chest rose and fell in an uneven rhythm.
"Don’t stop," he murmured.
Kaito kept stroking him, firm but slow, never letting go of the pressure. Haru’s body rose with each breath, as if that touch was pulling him inward.
In response, Haru slipped his hand under the waistband of Kaito’s sweatpants. He wasn’t wearing any underwear. He wrapped his hand around it directly. He felt a cock longer than his, thinner, with a noticeable upward curve. About seventeen centimeters. The texture was soft, yet firm, and when he squeezed, he felt it react to every movement. He stroked it gently and adjusted his fingers to the curved shape gliding along his palm.
Silence filled with breath between them. Haru’s eyes were locked on Kaito’s jaw—how it tensed and relaxed with each touch.
"Kaito…"
"Mmm…"
"What are we doing?"
Kaito tilted his head. He looked at him for the first time since it had started.
"What we’ve both wanted for weeks."
Haru froze for a second, still holding him.
"And now what?"
Kaito leaned in, pressed his forehead against Haru’s, and whispered:
"Now I’m going to finish touching you, you’re going to come, and then I’m going to take a shower with you."
Haru blinked. Swallowed. Nodded very slowly.
Kaito started moving again. His hand wrapped around Haru’s throbbing cock, already at the edge. He stroked it with a steady, constant rhythm. His hand seemed to understand what Haru couldn’t yet put into words. His fingers tried to grasp that thick cock pulsing with urgency. He felt the weight, the tension, and the round shape of the head, which flared slightly with every stroke.
Kaito didn’t take his eyes off his face. He watched every breath, every twitch in Haru’s jaw. The skin glided easily, slick with desire. Haru parted his legs slightly, surrendering. The skin on his stomach trembled under the growing heat. His cockhead peeked out red and shiny. A thick drop slid down the shaft like a warning of what was coming.
"You love this..." Kaito whispered, hand still working him.
Haru didn’t respond. His lips were parted, his chest heaving with difficulty.
Kaito shifted the pressure in his grip. He combined long, slow strokes with shorter ones focused on the tip. From time to time, he paused for a second, squeezing just below the head to intensify the sensation. Haru gave a small jolt when he felt it.
His cock pulsed in Kaito’s hand. The base was harder than ever, and every stroke triggered a physical response. His back arched with an involuntary surge of pleasure.
Kaito leaned in and kissed his neck, just under the earlobe. The warm breath gave Haru a fresh shiver.
"Let it go," Kaito whispered, wrapping him again with his damp hand.
Haru rested his head against the couch, let out a moan, and came hard in Kaito’s hand. Kaito didn’t let go until Haru’s body fully relaxed.
The bluish light from the TV lit up Kaito’s hand, now covered in semen that still throbbed between his fingers.
"And you?"
Kaito stood up slowly, without a word. He left the blanket on the couch and walked toward the hallway without looking back.
Before disappearing through the bathroom door, he said without turning around:
"The shower’s waiting."
Haru took a deep breath, his cock still exposed and his heart pounding in his chest. He stood up slowly, still trembling, pants down, and followed his desire down the hallway.
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