"Um, Kurose-kun," mumbles Shirotani, "how old are you?"

The thought to ask just occurs to him one day when Kurose's lying on his lap, watching a movie and hopefully not thinking about giving him a buttplug again. He guesses maybe late twenties.

"24," is Kurose's reply. "How about you?"

Oh.

Oh wow.

"I'm," he says, and pauses. What was that thing again? Double the younger person's age, subtract 7? Wait, no, that didn't sound right.

Kurose shifts so he's lying on his back, facing him. "Say that again?'

His cheeks reddening, he answers in a voice barely above a whisper. "I'm, uh, 32."

"What the fuck," says Kurose, not so quietly. "That's old. You're so old."

Shirotani's heart deflates a little at Kurose's words. Fine, but you didn't have to put it that way, is probably what he would have said if he had a spine. "Well," he says instead, trying to defend himself, "Age is just a number and all..."

For some reason he blushes again and it's embarrassing because he's supposed to be annoyed at being called old, after all.

His flustered state causes Kurose to chuckle. "Shh..." he murmurs, lowering his voice. "It doesn't matter at all, I'm just teasing you. It's only an eight year difference, anyway, it could be sketchier."

True.

--

A couple of hours later, they unsurprisingly end up with Kurose's hand up his arse on the couch.

"Ku- ahh, Kuro-hnngh," gasps Shirotani. "Sto- ahhhhhhhhhhn..."

"Say that again, Shirotani-san?" whispers Kurose, his breath dancing across Shirotani's bare skin.

"Ahhh, c-call me..." What was he saying, again? "Call me oji-cha-aaaah-"

What the fuck did I just say? The thought flits across Shirotani's mind for barely a second, his thoughts too hazed by Kurose's actions to think of anything else.

Goddammit is what he thinks next, when Kurose's hand stops moving, apparently from shock and from trying to process what he'd just blurted.

"Shirotani-san," Kurose says, slowly, while Shirotani reddens with every passing second.

"That's an-" Shit.

"-um, interesting-" Shit.

"-well, kink-" Fuck.

"-you've got there." And Shirotani wants nothing more than for his couch to swallow him whole and suck him out of this situation he somehow landed himself into.

What was I thinking?

A sharp thrust drags Shirotani out of his thoughts.

"Hey," murmurs Kurose, "focus on me, oji-chan."

Shirotani wonders if this is heaven or hell that he's in right now.