cherry stains

Until now, Taiki had always leaned toward the softer tones. Peachy beige, rose brown, warm coral, sheer pink; shades that made his lips look gentle and approachable, like how he wanted to be seen. He wasn’t the bold type when it came to makeup, especially not when all eyes were already on him enough during performances.

But today was different. Today, he let Yusei convince him to try something new.

When he walked into the greenroom that afternoon before their variety show filming, the energy was light. The stylists bustled around racks of costumes, Leiya was laughing way too loud at something Sota said, Keito had his head buried in a snack bag, crumbs around his mouth, and Sawanatsu was humming some trending anime opening while adjusting his jacket. Horinatsu sat cross-legged on the couch, flipping through a fashion magazine. It was chaos, like always.

And then Taiki entered, glossy cherry red painted across his lips like a challenge.

The kind of red that caught the light in flashes. It wasn’t just red—it was wet, vibrant, and looked like it’d stain anything that touched it.

He walked in, brushing a hand through his tousled perm, greeting Yusei softly. His eyes were crinkled, cheeks pink from the August heat, and yet, it wasn’t the flushed cheeks or his fitted shirt that made the room falter.

It was his lips.

Sekai was in the middle of talking to the stylist, something about the accessories they’d wear for the challenge segment.

"No, I said the silver cuffs, not the chain—" his words just suddenly… trailed off. Like someone had hit mute.

His eyes locked on Taiki.

Not his usual quick glance, not even the amused little up-down he did when he teased him. This was different. Sekai’s eyes were pinned there—lower lip, then upper, then back down again. The curve of the glossed cherry red shimmered as Taiki spoke to Yusei, lit up under the dressing room lights.

Sekai forgot the rest of his sentence. The stylist looked confused, before excusing himself to do another urgent task.

“—so I told the salesgirl I was buying it for my mother,” Yusei said, laughing beside him. “I mean, technically, I wasn’t lying. It’s you, right?”

Taiki flushed, nudging Yusei with his elbow. “Stop,” he laughed, embarrassed, but his fingers reached up to touch his lips anyway. “Seriously though, I love this color. I didn’t think I’d pull it off, but it’s... nice.”

“It looks more than nice,” Yusei grinned. “You’re prettier than me today. Don’t let anyone else say otherwise.”

Taiki beamed, ducking his head shyly. “You really think so?”

“I do think so!”

When Yusei was called by a staff and left him, Taiki caught Sekai’s eyes from across the room. They hadn’t moved. Still locked on his mouth.

Taiki smirked, tilted his head slightly as he walked closer, pretending not to notice the growing tension in Sekai’s jaw. He casually picked up a script booklet on the table next to him, pretending to flip through it as if the soft smacking sound of his glossed lips wasn’t completely intentional.

“Something wrong, Sekai-san?” he asked, voice light, lilting. A little too light.

Sekai blinked slowly, eyes lifting to meet Taiki’s for a fraction of a second, then darting back down to his lips before looking away completely. “No,” he muttered, voice hoarse. “Why would there be?”

Taiki shrugged, lips curving up, but the gloss made the smile look devious and seductive, even if he wasn’t trying to be.

“I’m glad you like it,” Taiki said aloud, as if reading Sekai’s mind. “Yusei gave it to me. I really love the color.”

Sekai didn’t respond right away. He was trying to ignore Taiki. Really trying.

Taiki turned the page unnecessarily and added, “I think it suits me, doesn’t it?”

Sekai’s eye twitched. “You’re fishing.”

Taiki blinked. “Fishing?”

“For compliments.”

“I’m not,” Taiki insisted, holding in a grin.

“You are,” Sekai said flatly.

Taiki tilted his head the other way. “But it does look good, right?”

Sekai exhaled through his nose. He turned, closed the distance, and before Taiki could flinch, Sekai’s fingers grabbed both his cheeks in one hand. Firmly, almost roughly. Taiki yelped as Sekai’s thumb and fingers squished his face together, pushing his glossy lips into a perfect little pout.

“Cheeky brat,” Sekai muttered.

“Mmph—Sekai-san!” Taiki’s words came out garbled, his lips smushed together ridiculously. The motion made the gloss catch the light even more.

Sekai leaned in close, close enough to smell the faint cherry sweetness of the gloss. He shouldn’t be looking at his mouth. Shouldn’t be thinking how soft it looked. Shouldn’t want to test how much of that gloss would transfer if he—

Taiki blinked up at him through his lashes, still slightly squished. His lips made a small, ridiculous sound as Sekai finally let go, fingers brushing against the tempting glossy lips.

“There,” Sekai muttered, turning away as if that made it all go away. “You wanted attention. You got it.”

But Taiki didn’t move. He stood there, heartbeat loud in his ears, cheeks tingling where Sekai’s fingers had pressed.

Sekai hadn’t teased him like that in a while. Not with that kind of restraint.

And something inside Taiki fluttered with delight.

That was the moment the idea bloomed in his mind.

A new look… a new game.

If Sekai was going to lose his composure over a silly little red lipstick, maybe Taiki could push it even further.

∘•········ʚ ♡ ɞ ········•∘

Taiki didn’t stop thinking about Sekai’s expression.

That furrow in his brow, the way his hand had hovered over his mouth like he was trying to erase a thought, that flustered tension was new. Sekai was never like that. He was always calm, unreadable, endlessly cool. It used to make Taiki feel like he was standing in the sun, reaching out to touch something too far, too bright. But now? Now Sekai looked like he was the one getting burned.

And Taiki liked it.

The red lipstick had become his new weapon. He re-applied it right before each segment, lips shiny and a little too full-looking to be innocent. And every time he caught Sekai staring, his heart fluttered with something wicked and warm.

The members were scattered across the break room—some lying on the couch, some scrolling their phones, some sipping canned coffee and talking quietly to the staff. They’d just wrapped a long segment, and another filming would start soon.

Sekai was standing by the window, shirt slightly wrinkled from movement, collar a little crooked. He was drinking bottled water and reading the next cue sheet. So focused. So unaware.

Perfect.

Taiki stood from the couch, stretching his back as he moved. He already checked the situation—Sota was asleep with his cap over his eyes, Keito and Leiya were fighting over a bag of chips, and the rest were too buried in conversation. The staff were still organizing props.

Quietly, calmly, Taiki approached. His footsteps were soft and unhurried.

“Your collar’s bent,” Taiki murmured casually.

Sekai turned his head slightly, just enough to glance down. “Is it?”

“Mm-hm,” Taiki stepped close. His fingers brushed Sekai’s shoulder, and then his collar. He tugged it gently, smoothing it down with deliberate slowness, letting his thumb trail just a little too long near the skin.

Then he leaned in.

Taiki could feel Sekai froze the moment his lips touched his skin.

A slow, deliberate kiss, right above Sekai’s collarbone. His lips were soft, warm, slightly sticky from the gloss. He held it for just a moment longer than necessary, just long enough to feel Sekai’s breath hitch and his muscles go tense.

Then Taiki pulled back and met Sekai’s wide eyes with a soft, unreadable smile.

“What the hell—” Sekai muttered, his hand immediately flying up to rub at the spot. He wiped at it roughly with his palm, then tugged the edge of his collar up to cover it. “What are you doing?!”

Taiki looked at the smudge of red now faintly visible on the collar of Sekai’s white shirt. It clashed against the fabric like spilled cherry juice.

“I think it suits you,” Taiki said with a tiny smile, his voice light and teasing.

Sekai gawked at him for a second, cheeks tinted just slightly—whether it was anger or embarrassment, Taiki wasn’t sure. But either way, he looked deliciously undone.

Before Sekai could snap back with something smart, a staff member poked their head in. “Back to set, everyone!”

“Coming,” Taiki chirped, voice light as air.

He gave Sekai one more glance, a tiny smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth, and walked out.

When they all gathered on set again, everyone was in their spots, waiting for final instructions. Sekai returned to his place next to Horinatsu, arms crossed as if nothing had happened.

But Taiki saw it. The faint red smear had transferred to the inside of his collar. Barely there. But not invisible.

The moment the lighting crew called out a final check and the camera began to roll into place, Horinatsu blinked and leaned a little closer.

“…Sekai-san, what is that red smudge on your shirt?”

Sekai didn’t even glance down.

“Makeup artist’s palette probably brushed me earlier,” he said flatly. “Happens sometimes.”

“Hmm,” Horinatsu replied, unconvinced, but too chill to push it.

Taiki bit the inside of his cheek, holding in a smile. Across the set, he caught Sekai’s eyes and he raised one brow, silently mocking him.

Sekai looked away immediately.

For the first time, Taiki wasn’t the one being played with. For once, he had the upper hand.

And it felt dangerously good.

∘•········ʚ ♡ ɞ ········•∘

A few days later, the feeling was still with him.

They were all gathered for a meeting about their new single. The staff had printed lyric breakdowns, schedules, and theme boards, now pinned up on a whiteboard at the front. The six other members were sitting in the front rows, voices low, jotting notes, sipping drinks, while Taiki and Sekai sat in the very back.

“Sekai-san,” Taiki whispered.

Sekai turned his head just slightly, one brow raised in a silent question.

Taiki leaned in. Just enough. Just slow enough.

He didn’t say a word. His lips brushed Sekai’s jawline like a breeze, and he lingered there just half a second longer. The smallest press. Enough for a light red mark to bloom gently against Sekai’s pale skin.

Sekai exhaled. A soft, frustrated groan escaped him.

His eyes flicked, as if checking if anyone saw. But no one had. Sota was talking about the chorus, Yusei was discussing image visuals. Keito was drawing hearts on his notebook.

Sekai turned his head back toward Taiki, glaring at him.

“Taiki,” he warned.

Taiki smiled innocently. “Hmmm?”

Sekai stared at him for another long moment, but said nothing else and turned back to face the front. He seemed unbothered, but his hand had curled into a fist on his thigh, knuckles white. That reaction alone made Taiki feel drunk.

It was working.

Taiki exhaled slowly through his nose, amused and satisfied.

They were both so good at pretending. In front of everyone, they were composed. Co-leaders. Focused, dependable, the steady rhythm of the group. But underneath, there was something crackling, burning hotter every time they touched.

Halfway through the meeting, while they were discussing dance parts, Sota glanced toward Sekai, squinted, and snickered.

“Sekai-san,” Sota said, voice loud. “You’ve got a red mark on your jaw. What is that?”

Sekai blinked. Then reached up, touched his skin, and felt the faint stickiness.

“Probably from the whiteboard marker I just held,” he said smoothly, wiping it with the back of his sleeve. “Happened last time too.”

Sota made a face. “Did you hold the marker with your face?”

Laughter rippled around the room while Sekai just shrugged.

Taiki didn’t even look up. He reached for his water bottle, sipping slowly.

The taste of cherry lingered faintly on his mouth, but the gloss was starting to wear unevenly. He licked his bottom lip once, subtly. No one noticed.

Except Sekai.

Taiki caught it in his peripheral vision—Sekai’s eyes on him, unreadable, his lips slightly parted like he was about to say something. But he didn’t.

Taiki smiled to himself, small and quiet.

He was winning.

And he wasn’t even close to done.

∘•········ʚ ♡ ɞ ········•∘

Taiki didn’t know when it became addictive.

Maybe it was the first time Sekai’s eyes darkened after he pressed a soft red kiss to his skin. Maybe it was that tiny hitch in Sekai’s breath, that slight clench of his jaw when he was trying not to react. Or maybe it was just the sheer thrill of watching Sekai, that unreadable, unshakeable leader, get so visibly affected.

Whatever it was, Taiki couldn’t stop. He didn’t want to.

That day in the recording studio, the energy was low and relaxed. The team had just finished another meeting for the upcoming release, and the members were flopped across the room. Sota was scrolling TikTok and laughing to himself. Sawanatsu was filming Keito pretending to cry over the touching lyrics. Yusei was huddled in the corner reviewing MV footage.

Taiki had plopped down beside Sekai on the leather couch, laughing at something Horinatsu said about Leiya’s unreadable handwriting across the room.

Sekai was wearing a black hoodie, soft and slightly oversized, hood down and neck bare just enough to show a sliver of skin. His legs were spread lazily, his phone in one hand, barely listening to the chaos around him.

Taiki leaned his head back for a moment, breathing deep. And then, slowly, turned his body just slightly toward Sekai. His hand brushed the side of Sekai’s hoodie, fingers curling into the hem casually.

No one noticed. The room was loud.

He leaned in and pressed his lips behind Sekai’s ear, right at the base of his neck.

The warmth of skin beneath gloss. The silent gasp Sekai gave, the way his body jerked just slightly.

Taiki lingered there for a second, lips slightly parted, letting the faintest cherry tint stain the skin. He pulled back before Sekai could move, sat upright like nothing happened.

Sekai exhaled hard. His hand immediately went to Taiki’s jaw, not hard, but firm, and turned his face toward him.

“Taikiii…” he said in a long, low groan.

His eyes narrowed, and his lips were caught between being annoyed and biting back a grin.

Taiki giggled. Actually giggled.

His cheeks were warm, but his heart was racing from excitement. He had never felt so bold, so powerful, and seeing Sekai struggle to stay neutral just made it better.

Sekai glared at him, but his thumb still rested on Taiki’s cheek like he didn’t really want to push him away.

“You’re really testing it, aren’t you,” he muttered.

Taiki didn’t answer. Just gave him a closed-lipped smile and turned away as if nothing happened, casually grabbing the meeting documents off the table.

Later, when everything had finally settled, Sekai got up to stretch.

Keito looked up and blinked, his voice broke through the room. “Eh?! Sekai-san, there’s something on your neck! It’s like… bright red.”

Sawanatsu leaned over to look. “Oh? did you have a good night yesterday or something?”

The whole room erupted into laughter.

“Seriously, is that a hickey?” Horinatsu asked, leaning forward with his eyebrows raised high.

Sekai didn’t blink. “Props from yesterday’s MV shoot. Didn’t wash out.”

Taiki almost choked on his tea. He coughed into his sleeve, biting his lip so hard to stop the grin from breaking free.

Sota added helpfully, “Yeah, those fake blood things, right? The makeup team really went hard.”

Taiki could barely contain the laughter bubbling in his chest. He kept his head down, eyes focused on his drink, but he knew Sekai could feel the way his shoulders shook slightly.

That night, Taiki kept thinking about it.

The way Sekai never looked flustered in front of others, the way he played it cool no matter what, and how Taiki was the only one who got to see him fall apart in small, delicious pieces.

He wanted more.

So he gave more.

Another group shoot came just two days later, this time for a magazine interview. Everyone was already getting their touch-ups from the makeup team. Taiki had picked the same red again—the same glossy cherry red that had started this whole game. It gleamed under the dressing room light like ripe fruit, soft and wet and too inviting to ignore.

Again, when no one was looking, Taiki's lips brushed Sekai’s jaw.

He felt Sekai’s breath stop. His fingers clenched at the papers in his hand. He didn’t say anything.

But the mark stayed.

Later, as they hug each other sideways for the group photo, Leiya turned his head to laugh at Sekai's jokes. But then he tilted his head slowly, eyes narrowed in confusion.

“Sekai-san, you’ve got a speck of red there. Under your jaw.”

Sekai blinked. “Do I? Probably from ketchup. You know I ate hamburger on the break.”

“Yeah, right here.” Leiya blatantly pointed at the red mark while laughing heartily. “It’s funny how you keep getting red stuff on your face lately.”

Sekai didn’t answer, just rubbing his jaw nonchalantly.

Little did Leiya know, his innocent remark caught Sawanatsu’s attention. He turned his head, observing Sekai's bright red mark for a few seconds before he smirked.

“Huh… weird,” Sawanatsu said knowingly, looking between Sekai and Taiki. “Taiki-kun’s lipstick has the exact same color as that… smudge on Sekai-san’s jaw.”

The room fell silent.

It was only a second. But it was a heavy one.

Then came the sound of gasps, suppressed laughter filling the room. Six sets of eyes slowly, curiously looking between the two leaders—their head turned left and right because Sekai and Taiki stood on the exact opposite position.

Yusei let out a dramatic gasp, finally connecting the dots now, despite he was the one who gave Taiki the lipstick.

Taiki’s heart dropped. His mouth was dry.

Sekai, cool as always, didn’t even flinch.

“Coincidence,” he said calmly. “It’s a popular shade right now.”

Taiki didn’t speak. He couldn’t. His face was already tinted pink.

“…Hmmm,” Sota muttered, suspicious.

They didn’t accuse them outright, but the teasing thickened.

Yusei smiled innocently, “I heard lipstick transfers really easily if someone’s skin is warm…”

Sawanatsu grinned. “I also heard it sticks better if you press hard.”

Leiya gasped. “You guys think it’s from a kiss?!”

“No, no,” Horinatsu deadpanned. “Sekai-san probably just rubbed his face with Taiki-kun’s lipstick.”

Keito added with a laugh, “Or maybe they just accidentally… bumped heads?”

The room snickered, laughter rolling like a wave. 

Taiki’s face burned. He looked down, pretending to fix his clothes. His ears were hot.

He could feel their eyes on him. Not judgmental. Just… amused. They didn’t say it, but they knew something was going on.

He didn’t expect that when it came from the other members—when they all teased at once—that it would actually feel this embarrassing. That it would feel like someone had pulled the rug out from under him.

He didn’t think he’d lose his composure first, while Sekai hadn’t cracked once. Still calm, still unreadable, still poker-faced as ever.

As they sat down for the next round of group Q&A, the members kept dropping hints like casual conversation.

“I heard some fans love when leaders get along really well,” Sota said.

“Yeah,” Sawanatsu added. “Like when they show affection, you know? Small touches. Or lipstick marks.”

“Oh yeah,” Horinatsu said with a little smirk. “Very trendy.”

Keito nodded sagely. “The new kind of fanservice. Physical proof.”

Leiya chimed in with a fake gasp. “Imagine if it was real.”

The others all giggled or smirked, eyes carefully not looking directly at the leaders.

Taiki wished the floor would open up and swallow him.

Sekai, sitting beside him, didn’t say anything. But Taiki could feel his presence shifting slightly closer.

He leaned in, just enough for Taiki to feel the breath near his ear.

“You’ve been the one pulling the strings lately,” Sekai whispered. “So why are you the one blushing now, Taiki?”

Taiki huffed, still red. “Shut up.”

Sekai chuckled. The sound low, rough, satisfied. Taiki looked away, still fuming. But his lips curled.

Because underneath it all, he loved it.

He loved the tension. Loved the push and pull. Loved that Sekai knew exactly how to get under his skin in return.

He had started the game.

But maybe Sekai was about to win it.

And something about that made Taiki’s heart pound harder than ever.

∘•········ʚ ♡ ɞ ········•∘

The teasing didn’t stop. Even in the dark van.

“Bet Sekai-san likes peach-flavored things now,” Sawanatsu said from the front seat, not even trying to hide the grin in his voice.

Keito laughed. “What? Why peach?”

“I don’t know,” Sawanatsu replied, “it just feels… fruity. Like someone’s been kissing him.”

Taiki almost curled into himself trying to keep a straight face.

“Or maybe it’s cherry,” Yusei added softly. “Something shiny. Sticky.”

“I think I saw some red gloss on the couch too,” Leiya said.

“Oh,” Horinatsu added flatly. “So that’s what fanservice means now.”

They all laughed.

Taiki could feel Sekai beside him—completely still. Not answering. Not denying. Just… waiting. Like a storm pretending to be sky.

The van started emptying as they reached members’ homes one by one. Leiya, Keito, Yusei. Then Horinatsu and Sota. Sawanatsu waved with a wide, playful grin as he got out.

And then it was just the two of them.

Then the manager, hands steady on the wheel, said it without thinking.

“By the way, both of you have the day off tomorrow, right? The schedule is clear until EXILE's rehearsal on the day after tomorrow. Enjoy the rest.”

Sekai shifted. “Wait… Taiki too?”

His voice wasn’t loud, but it cut through the air like a tight string snapping. Taiki turned to look at him, a little smirk tugging at his lips. He nodded once, slow and knowing.

“Mm. I have the day off too.”

Sekai’s lips parted, and for a second, his whole face changed. The polite, unreadable leader expression darkened into something else entirely—sharp, focused, almost wicked.

Taiki’s stomach flipped.

He knew that look.

Sekai didn’t say anything, but the way his mouth curved slowly into a smirk told Taiki everything. It was the exact kind of smirk that said, you started this. Now deal with the consequences.

Taiki giggled under his breath and sank deeper into his seat.

He braced himself.

Sekai kept his composure, voice smooth as always when he leaned forward slightly toward the manager.

“Can you just drop us both off at my place?” he asked. “There’s some planning we need to talk about.”

The manager hummed, not even suspicious. “Sure.”

Taiki didn’t say anything. He just stared out the window, his heart hammering louder with every turn the van made. His body was warm and giddy. He could feel Sekai watching him out of the corner of his eye.

When they reached Sekai’s building, Taiki followed him out of the van without a word. He waved politely to the manager, thanking him, acting like nothing was about to happen.

Taiki stumbled a step inside Sekai’s apartment. But before he could even find his footing, the door clicked shut and Sekai’s hands were already on either side of him, slamming flat against the wall with his body close, warm and intense.

Taiki’s breath caught.

Sekai’s face was barely an inch from his, his voice low and edged with something rough. “You’ve been such a brat this past weeks.”

Taiki blinked, half-laughing.

“I know we’ve both been busy. I’ve been trying, trying to respect your schedule. You’ve been filming drama nonstop. I didn’t want to be selfish. I wanted to wait until you had time. Until we had time.” Sekai’s eyes didn’t blink. “And then what did you do?”

Taiki blinked up at him, feigning innocence. “I wore lipstick.”

Sekai’s glare deepened. His fingers slid up to Taiki’s cheek, thumb rubbing slowly over his lower lip. “And you seduced me in front of everyone, kissed me when no one was looking, leaving red marks on my face.”

Taiki’s lips parted slightly under Sekai’s touch, breath shaky. His heart was thudding so hard he was sure Sekai could feel it in the air between them.

“I was trying so hard not to touch you,” Sekai said. “And you knew that. Didn’t you?”

Taiki’s eyes fluttered. His giggle was soft but shameless.

He slid his arms up around Sekai’s neck, pulling him just an inch closer, their chests almost touching now.

“So…” he whispered. “What are you gonna do about it, Sekai-san?”

He bit his lip slowly, tilting his head slightly. His gaze burned, teasing and sultry.

Sekai’s jaw twitched. His eyes dropped to Taiki’s mouth. His thumb still resting on the lips, dragging the gloss messily.

“This stupid red lipstick,” Sekai muttered, voice almost a growl. “It looks so fucking good on you.”

He leaned in, mouth brushing Taiki’s ear.

“It makes me want to ruin you.”

Taiki’s stomach flipped.

“Then ruin me,” he whispered.

That was all it took.

Sekai kissed him—hard, messy, claiming. Their mouths crashed together, and Taiki moaned into it, fingers tightening around Sekai’s neck. The gloss smeared instantly, spreading between their lips, over their mouths, hot and sticky and sweet. Sekai kissed like a man starving, hands gripping Taiki’s waist, pulling him in until there was no space left between them.

Taiki’s giggles melted into breathless whimpers as Sekai’s lips moved from his mouth to his jaw, then down his neck. Every kiss was hungry. Desperate. Taiki could feel it. His skin heating up, his pulse quickening, his body tingling under every brush of Sekai’s mouth.

He gasped sultrily when Sekai bit lightly at the spot just beneath his ear.

“S-Sekai-san—”

“Shut up.”

Then, without a word, Sekai bent and lifted him.

Taiki yelped as his thighs were hauled up around Sekai’s waist, strong arms holding him steady. He instinctively wrapped around Sekai, gripping his shoulders, his heart slamming in his chest.

They stumbled toward the living room, kissing the whole way, Taiki half-laughing, half-gasping as Sekai pressed him down onto the couch. The cushions dipped under their weight.

Taiki’s back arched, legs still wrapped loosely around Sekai’s hips. His fingers curled into Sekai’s hoodie, eyes shining as they looked up at him.

Sekai hovered above him, bracing himself on his forearms, staring down at him with flushed cheeks and red-smeared lips.

“You look ruined already,” he whispered.

Taiki didn’t answer. He just reached up and pulled Sekai down again.

They kissed like crazy—hands grabbing, mouths greedy, hips grinding in slow, hot waves. Taiki moaned as Sekai’s hands pushed his shirt up, fingers trailing along his chest. His body arched toward the touch instinctively, desperate for more.

The lipstick was everywhere now. Sekai’s jaw, Taiki’s collarbone, both their mouths stained in a wild mess of red.

Taiki reached into his jeans pocket and pulled out the lipstick.

Sekai raised an eyebrow, amused. “You carry that around?”

“Maybe,” Taiki said breathlessly, smirking.

He uncapped it and, to Sekai’s surprise, leaned in. Gently, Taiki smeared the red across Sekai’s lips. Then, while giggling, he drew a small heart shape on Sekai’s cheek with the lipstick.

“You look good in red too.”

He kissed Sekai’s cheek right on the heart. Then kissed his lips teasingly.

Sekai stared at him for a second, then chuckled. “Brat.”

Taiki kept giggling. “Your brat.”

Sekai’s eyes softened. He took the lipstick from Taiki’s hand, twisted it up again, and slowly, carefully, reapplied it on Taiki’s mouth. The red was bold, brighter now, perfectly thick.

“You’re so pretty,” Sekai murmured, hand stroking Taiki's cheek, looking at him with fond eyes. “I love you.”

Taiki’s breath hitched. His smile was small, but glowing. “I love you too, Sekai-san.”

And then Sekai kissed him again—slower this time, sweeter, deeper. Their hearts beating too fast, their lips still tasting of each other.

When they pulled apart, Sekai’s expression shifted back into something darker, heavier.

“You’ve been asking for it all week,” he murmured.

Taiki tilted his head, gasping slightly.

Sekai leaned down, mouth brushing Taiki’s ear. “You ready for your punishment?”

Taiki bit his lip, a tremble running through his body, and his voice came out soft but needy.

“I’ve been ready all week.”

END