Chris bounced on his toes in the living room, phone in hand, grinning like he'd won the lottery. It was a sunny Saturday morning, Ichigo at a playdate with Mia and Aiko, giving them rare alone time. Haru was in the kitchen making coffee, sleeves rolled on his casual shirt, dark brown eyes curious at Chris's excitement.
"So," Chris started, playful vibe full blast, hazel eyes sparkling. "I've got a request. Kinda weird, but hear me out."
Haru handed him a mug, leaning against the counter. "Shoot. Weird from you is usually fun."
Chris sipped, blush creeping. "Those old high school photos? Uniform Haru was... hot. Serious face, tie loose, all intense. I wanna see the real thing. Like... visit your old school, and you wear the uniform again. For me."
Haru choked on his coffee, face flushing rare. "The uniform? It's ancient—probably doesn't fit. And school visit? Cringe central."
Chris stepped closer, hands on Haru's chest. "Please? Bet it still fits— you're in shape. Just for fun. Walk the halls, show me where young Haru ruled debate club. I'll pack picnic or something."
Haru rubbed his neck, reserved cracking. "You're serious."
Chris nodded big, innocent yet flirty. "Dead serious. Fantasy level high."
Haru exhaled, soft smile winning. "Fine...fine. For you. But if it rips, you're buying dinner."
Chris whooped, hugging tight. "Deal! Love you."
Digging the uniform from storage box—navy blazer, white shirt, tie, pants. Miraculously fit, snug but good—Haru's medium build maintained. Tie loose like old days, sleeves rolled.
Chris's eyes widened when Haru stepped out. "Holy... Haru-san. You look... damn."
Haru flushed. "Stop. Feels weird."
Chris circled him, playful. "Weird hot. Debate king energy strong."
Drive to old high school—weekend quiet, gates open for alumni events. Campus familiar: cherry trees bare now, track field, debate hall.
Haru led tour: "Locker here—hid books. Classroom there—argued teacher on history."
Chris listened rapt, hand in Haru's. Debate room last—empty desks, stage front.
"Here," Haru said, voice low. "Stood there, heart pounding, winning tournaments."
Chris stepped close. "Recreate? Pretend debate me."
Haru laughed. "Topic?"
Chris grinned. "Best boyfriend award—you win automatic."
Haru pulled him close. "No debate."
Kiss started soft—nostalgia sweet. Turned heated quick. Chris backed Haru to stage edge, lips hungry. Tongues brushed urgent, breaths ragged.
Uniform jacket shed slow—Chris unbuttoning reverent, shirt next. Skin met hot, slim pressing medium. Haru's mouth neck—kissing slow, nipping gentle. Chris arched, gasp breathy, grinding instinctive.
Pants undone impatient, pushed away. Bare, sweat-slick. Bodies aligned—Haru's hand wrapping firm, stroking rhythm rolls. Chris bucked, moans soft, legs tight.
Haru's free hand traced thigh, deepening friction. Pleasure coiled intense—eyes locked, hazel playful love, brown full devotion. Whispers: "Uniform fantasy," Chris panted; "For you," Haru husky.
Climax shared—Chris tensing beautiful, release crashing muffled cry. Haru followed, shuddering deep.
Tangled after, breaths evening. Chris smiled lazy. "Best school trip."
Haru chuckled, kissing temple. "With you—always."
Uniform refolded careful, drive home laughing retells.
Evening routine: Ichigo back, tales shared (clean version). Bedtime hugs, kid out.
Night theirs—uniform "replay" whispers, love timeless.