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Kaito could feel his pulse in his fingertips. He thought he might be dead but the steady beat against the strap to his bow case was enough to warn him that no, he was very much alive, alive, alive . Across the hall, Masa's fingertips dipped lower, beyond the ties of the hakama settled firmly in place around Minato's waist. His other palm was seated fully into the slit on the side, Minato's gi bunched and pulled sloppily out of place to reveal miles of bare, tempting skin. If it weren't for that, for the mess of them, it would have almost looked like any other bit of coaching. A correction of posture. A reminder to remain grounded in his core. Instead it just looked like sin. Carnal, devious, delicious sin. Kaito held his breath for a count, two, ten, and then the riotous swell of jealousy overtook him. "What the fuck is going on here?"Masaki didn't even have the shame to move himself. Minato, though, jumped. The arrow notched to his string clattered against the floor as it was loosed - too weak and unstable to make it outside of the hall."Kaito-" he breathed. He was blushing. The colour of it spread from his cheeks to his throat and down to his one bare shoulder, to the skin beneath Masa's hand at his hip. "Kaito," Masa said. He wasn't blushing. Instead he was staring, his eyes burning across Kaito's skin as he did nothing but stare back, utterly still in his shock. His hand slid forward, fingers and palm disappearing fully beneath Minato's clothing to-Minato gasped, the sound spilling out of him as he doubled over, his bow still in one hand, his fingers clenched and white against it. The hand in his mitsugake spasmed hard enough that the leather creaked. There were a thousand things that Kaito could have done. He could have left. Reported them, got Masa fired, and Minato thrown off the team. Without him, though – without either of them – they'd be left coach-less, team-less. A more selfish part of his mind reminded him that doing so would get them removed from his life. He doubted Minato would stay around with such an embarrassment over his head. He couldn't imagine it would make it stop either. The thought of them carrying on in private, at the shrine with nothing but the moon and an ornery owl to witness what they did tucked within the cover of night made Kaito's stomach turn.He could rip Minato out of Masa's grip. Make him bleed before slipping himself beneath Masa's fingers, where he belonged. Where he deserved to be. Fuck if the way Masa's arm flexed, muscles cording along his exposed forearms as he shifted his hand and wrenched another one of those stifled, broken-off sounds from Minato's throat, didn't make him ache with wanting. Jealousy rippled under Kaito's skin. He set his case down, still impossibly careful with his gear, even as he squared himself against them. The sound was unbearably loud in the open hall. Masa watched him come to them, watched him stop just feet from where they stood, watched as Kaito reached forward and wrenched the bow from Minato’s shaking fingers. Masa held Minato steady, grounded as he folded forward, spasming into Masa’s hands as Kaito took the final thing holding him together and placed it to the side. “This show on fuckin repeat? Am I always going to be finding the two of you all-” he made a sweeping gesture that encompassed the both of them. Masa smiled slowly. Kaito could see him remembering:
Masa on his knees. Kaito coming in just in time to see him rise off of them as their coach bent himself over Minato’s slight form, his head resting gently on Minato’s shoulder as he reached long, strong arms around his lithe form to tie his hakama.
“Told you then and meant it. It wasn’t what you thought.”“And this?” Kaito snarled.“Exactly what you thought.”Masa echoed the motion of so many years ago, their positioning was different, but Masa’s lips fitting to the curve of Minato’s throat and laving gentle attention across the skin felt right . It was like the crescendo of a piece that built until straining, the calm in a storm. Minato sighed and then mewled, his hands finally making themselves useful enough to reach up to tangle in Masa’s hair and hold him there. Kaito burned with it, his skin feverish and his heart pounding as he begged himself to move . To turn away. To let himself fall to his knees and worship at the feet of everything he wanted and nothing he thought he could ever have.Minato had always been the one to anchor them. Now, with him swept up like this, Kaito felt unmoored. His rage spun into something tangible and inflexible before him, a breath away from shattering until Minato turned in Masa’s grip, his palms direct and soft as he cradled Masa’s face and kissed him, bringing him to his knees. His entire back was bare now, the sleeves of his doji pooled at the bend of his elbows.
Was this what he always saw?
It took Kaito’s breath away. Something in the action felt loaded, charged with a trust he didn’t think he deserved. That he hadn’t in any way earned. I’ve got your back , he thought. His body moved on instinct.And it was no different, then, the way Kaito saw him. The way Kaito saw them, taut and rigid - the supple push and draw of a bow string; ready to fly - languid where they met, skin alight with their yearning, sweat and spit and chalk mixing into a mess between them.He had always been competitive, and what was this but another challenge he could best? Masaki turned to him, light in his eyes, Minato's lip bruised to a sweet, riotous red between his teeth. Minato sighed into it, pressed into the pressure in a way that made Kaito's teeth ache. He was shaking, his fingers slipping over Masaki's bare shoulders only to catch behind his head and fist into the sweat-dampened hair at the nape of his neck.Kaito could see the cords of Masa's throat drawing tight, could see them bunch and pull as Minato finally turned himself away from Masaki's mouth to look beyond him, to Kaito himself. "Kacchan-" he breathed. It sounded like a plea. It thrilled through him in a way Nanao saying it never did. Maybe Kaito had always been weaker than he had once believed himself to be, because Minato's voice sunk somewhere beneath his ribs and pulled him apart, leaving him flayed open and raw between the place he stood and the place they filled with their entanglement. "C'mon, Kai. Unless you're scared."Kaito squared his stance, watching as their pleading expressions slipped to warm, expectant breaths, reaching hands and cautious excitement. He counted his breaths, taking the first tentative steps toward them as he slipped the first shoulder of his kimono down and finally, finally let Masaki reach out to free the other side for him. Kaito waited for the moment anticipation turned to clarity, as Minato cupped calloused fingers to his jaw and kissed him before using those same fingers to push his head to the side, feeding Kaito's next kiss to Masa in a way that made Kaito feel headily, deliciously, small.The moment he felt the tension in his fingers and wrists and shoulders give way to a tingling, calm, rightness - Masaki's hands trailing over his bare chest from behind, Minato settling into his lap and writhing- He loosed the proverbial arrow.The bow turned.