No Longer Alone
Micah Evergreen was just supposed to be my roommate. Someone I shared a bunk bed within the university dorms. He was always the top bunk—I never thought anything of it. I didn’t know the stereotypes were true.
Now, the night of his birthday, the party was over, and we had stumbled back to the tatami-floored room, the paper screen door pulled shut behind us. We had just intended to sleep-- rest from all those people and gifts.
That’s what I intended, at least.
Now, I lay on my back in the bottom bunk, naked. So was he. His right hand braced beside my head, the other on my hip as he rocked into me at a steady pace. My moans and gasps escaped before I could bite them back, echoing too loudly for the paper-thin walls.
My binder lay folded neatly on the floor with my uniform shirt and boxers. Yes, I was trans. Always have been. And he accepted that. But that didn’t matter right now. Tonight was all him, and only him.
“Nn… Hiro…” He breathed my name like a mantra, his mouth parted, panting hard, fingers digging into my hips.
“Micah…” I moaned back, pulling his face to mine. The kiss was sloppy, wet, desperate—too heated for the kind of restraint Japanese dorm life usually demanded.
He pulled back, forehead pressed to mine, his eyes still squeezed shut. “Hiro… Nn—Hiro, I’m… I’m so close…” His voice broke, rough and unsteady.
“S-so am I…” My left hand tangled in his messy hair, the other gripping his shoulder. His thrusts grew erratic, rougher, the sound of skin against skin far too loud for a quiet Kyoto night.
Then, with a strangled groan, he came, slamming into me three final times, filling the condom he’d rolled on earlier.
As he shuddered, I broke apart too, thighs clamping around his hips, my back arching as I soaked him from his thighs to the faint trail of hair beneath his navel.
When he pulled out, he tied the condom quickly and tossed it into the small trash bin tucked by the desk. He collapsed beside me, sighing, pulling me into his chest.
For a while, only the sound of our breathing filled the room. His big hands stroked over my sides gently, grounding me. “Hinata…?” He said my surname softly, as if testing something.
“Hm?” I cracked my sleepy eyes open, meeting his amber gaze—warm, exhausted, and still full of love.
“I love you, Hiro,” he murmured, kissing my forehead. “So much.”
Heat rose in my cheeks. I huffed, closing my eyes again. “When did you get so sappy… You’re supposed to be the strong one here.”
“What does that have to do with anything?” He pouted, almost childish.
“Literally everything.”
“You mean those dumb stereotypes?”
“They’re not dumb stereotypes, Micah.”
“They kind of are,” he said, narrowing his eyes playfully.
“Nuh-uh.”
“Yeah-huh.”
“Go to sleep, Micah.”
“Fine—as long as you keep cuddling me, dork. You’re like a furnace. A skinny, good-smelling furnace.” He poked my nose, grinning.
“Good-smelling? What is this, the omegaverse?” I muttered, glaring lightly.
That made him laugh, flipping us so he was on his back with me sprawled on top of him. “You’re funny. Anyone ever tell you that, Hiro?”
Rarely anyone called me Hiro. Most called me “Hinata,” my surname. When others used it my given name, it sounded sharp, formal—like a wall between us. But when he said it? My stomach twisted into messy, nervous knots.
“...Shut up.” I buried my face against his chest. “Go to sleep.”
“Fiiine~” he sighed, resting his head back. His arms still wrapped around me, holding me in place. “I love you, Hiro.”
I stilled for a moment, then exhaled softly. “…I love you too, Micah.”
Outside, rain began to patter softly against the dorm window, each drop tracing down the glass in shimmering trails. A distant rumble of thunder rolled through the sky, muffled but steady, like the earth itself exhaling. Wrapped in his arms, his warmth seeping into me, the storm felt less like a warning and more like a lullaby. With his heartbeat steady beneath my ear, I let my eyes slip shut, drifting into sleep as the rain kept time for our dreams.
