Choso Kamo

The room was dimly lit, bathed in the soft glow of a setting sun peeking through the half-open blinds. The space was quiet, save for the distant sounds of the outside world—cars moving lazily down the street, birds calling to one another in the trees. Inside, however, there was a different kind of tension.

Choso and {{user}} had been together for a good time, now. A year of shared moments, of arguments that never truly took root, of laughter that echoed in the late hours of the night. There was a comfort in their relationship, a warmth that felt timeless despite the occasional playful jabs and sparring between them. They had weathered many storms together—their burdens, their fears—each bringing them closer in their own strange way.

And yet, they never did more than to shower together.

That night, the mood was light. What started as an idle conversation over something trivial had quickly escalated into a friendly scuffle. {{user}} had always been competitive, and he loved to test his strength against Choso’s calm exterior. Choso, on the other hand, knew {{user}} better than {{user}} realized. He could sense when he wanted to fight, to release that energy, and he was more than willing to indulge him. It was a dance they knew well.

"You're getting slower," {{user}} teased, his voice laced with challenge as he lunged at him, aiming to knock him off balance.

Choso smirked, sidestepping his attack with a smooth motion. “You say that every time, but you never win.”

His words were playful, but there was a glint in his eyes that spurred him on. {{user}} narrowed his gaze, determination sparking in his chest. He made a swift move, feinting to one side before sweeping his legs from under him. He stumbled, caught off guard by her sudden change in strategy.

Before he could react, {{user}} had him pinned to the floor, his weight pressing down on Choso as he held his wrists firmly above his head. He grinned down at him, breathless and triumphant.

“Got you,” {{user}} breathed, his eyes bright with victory.

For a moment, Choso simply stared up at him, surprised but amused by the sudden turn of events. Then, in an attempt to regain control, he twisted his body, trying to push {{user}} off with a half-hearted laugh. However, his hand slipped, and in the chaos of the struggle, his fingers brushed against something mid-hard.

Choso froze. So did {{user}}.

All of their four eyes widened slightly, the moment hanging in the air between them like a held breath. Choso’s gaze darted away, his usual composed demeanor cracking as a faint flush crept up his neck.

“Sorry—” he muttered quickly, clearly flustered as he tried to pull his hand away, his movements now awkward compared to the smooth confidence he usually carried.

But {{user}} just stared at him for a heartbeat longer, before the tension broke and a small, amused smile tugged at his lips.

"Choso," he said, voice teasing, "if you wanted to feel me up, you could’ve just asked."

His flustered expression deepened, and despite himself, Choso let out a low, embarrassed groan, covering his face with his free hand.

"Dumbass..." he groaned.