Natsumi picked up some chopsticks and dipped a piece of tuna sashimi into soy sauce and wasabi, following it with a sliver of salmon. Kenji grabbed a handful of chips. Mack and Yoshi ate their fish pieces with their fingers.
Yoshi’s heart swelled like it might explode. It was early days, but even so, it felt like his worlds had all come together.
“So, Mack-san,” asked Kenji, reaching for some more chips, “can you tell us a little bit about yourself?”
The mechanic had finished his piece of battered fish. “Can I try some sashimi?” he asked.
“Absolutely!” replied Natsumi. “We have tuna, salmon and hiramasa.”
“You might know hiramasa as yellowtail kingfish,” added Kenji.
Mack reached for a fork. He didn’t know how to use chopsticks. He stabbed a piece of hiramasa and ate it. He’d never tried this type of fish before, and it was chewier than he expected. He was eager to reply to Yoshi’s father’s question, but he knew it wasn’t polite to talk with a mouthful of food. They waited for him to finish. “That was delicious, by the way,” said the mechanic. “I don’t think I’ve tried kingfish before. But to answer your question, I’m Brisbane born and bred. I’ve lived here all my life. I’m technically married, but my wife and I have separated. She was my high school sweetheart, but in the long run, things didn’t work out between us. We’re in the process of getting divorced, but we’re still friends. She and I own a house, but we’re going to sell it. We have two beautiful daughters who are currently in high school. I’m a car mechanic by trade, I’m part-owner of the busy garage I work in, and on weekends, I like going fishing and camping.” He stopped for a moment, knowing the very next thing he said could change his life forever. “I’m forty-two years old,” he said, “and I’m in love with your son.”
The emo nearly died.
“How did you meet our son?” asked Natsumi.
“We met on the internet,” Mack replied, “and then we met in real life.” It was close enough to the truth. He didn’t want to disclose that their son had a Grindr account. The emo’s parents didn’t pursue that line of questioning any further, and internally, he breathed a massive sigh of relief.
“Oh, one other thing I can tell you about myself,” Mack continued, “is I’m a big rugby fan.”
Kenji’s eyes lit up. “I used to play rugby in Japan. At Kyoto university. I played openside flanker. Very fit. But when we moved to Australia, I stopped.”
“I was a tight head prop,” Mack responded, “but I don’t play anymore either.”
“It’s a great game, isn’t it, Mack-san?” Yoshi’s father said wistfully, his mind reeling backwards in time.
“The best there is,” the mechanic agreed.
“I watch on television,” said Kenji. “I saw the Wallabies beat New Zealand last month at Lang Park. It was a great game.”
“We were there,” said Yoshi. “Mack took me to the game. We had a great time.”
Kenji addressed the mechanic. “I’m sure you and I will have many stories about rugby to share, Mack-san, but perhaps not right now.” He stood up and walked to a cupboard at the far end of the kitchen. “Do you drink?” he asked the mechanic. Upon receiving an affirmative reply, Kenji returned with a bottle of Suntory Yamazaki whisky. He placed it squarely in the centre of the kitchen table before retrieving four small shot glasses. “Single malt. Eighteen years old. Japan makes the best whisky in the world.”
Mack wasn’t about to argue the toss.
Yoshi’s dad poured four measures of the precious golden liquid. “A toast. To happiness, wherever in life we may find it.” He raised his glass to the kitchen ceiling. “Kanpai!”
*
The emo lay in the mechanic’s bed later that night. Everything was quiet, and other than ambient streetlight peeling through the window, the only illumination came from Mack’s bedside lamp. “Thanks for coming out to meet my parents today,” he said. He rolled over to hug his partner.
“Sadly, I now have a legitimate reason to visit Ipswich,” deadpanned the mechanic. “Do you reckon it went well?”
“Better than I’d ever imagined,” Yoshi admitted. “Like, I had no idea how that would go down today, but fuck, I reckon they like you. Especially my dad after you dropped the rugby bomb. I can’t remember the last time he brought out the big whisky guns like that.”
“I liked them too,” the mechanic replied with a smile. “I noticed your dad’s got a vintage Victa lawnmower in the back yard that looks pretty crapped out. I could probably help him recondition it. Could be a fun little project.”
“That’d be sweet,” whispered the emo. He cuddled in a little closer. “What the hell did I do in a previous life to find someone as awesome as you?”
“Are you getting all Shinto on me, punk?” joked the mechanic.
Yoshi laughed, hugging the mechanic tight. His fingertip traced a random walk across the mechanic’s hairy tummy. “Nah. I’ve never been religious. What about you?”
“My parents dragged me to church every Sunday morning when I was growing up,” replied Mack, “and I hated it. The only times I’ve been to church since I was about twelve years old have been for weddings, including my own, and funerals. I subscribe to Homer Simpson’s philosophy — if I’m wrong, I’ll recant on my deathbed.”
Yoshi’s fingers began to tiptoe south. “This is an unusually serious conversation, wouldn’t you say?”
Mack snorted. “Says the cunt who wonders from time to time what it’s like to be dead.”
“Yeah, but I got you thinking about that, didn’t I?” challenged the emo.
“Why would I want to think about being dead,” replied the mechanic, “when I’ve got so many more years to spend alive with you?”
The emo’s heart melted like butter in front of a warm fire. He threw his arms around Mack’s neck, pulling him in for a slow, tender kiss.
Things inevitably took their course. Within a few minutes, Yoshi lay on his back with the mechanic’s frame towering over him. The emo felt the head of Mack’s penis pressing on his opening. “I want to feel you inside me,” he said. Mack pushed forward, and Yoshi’s elastic pussy opened and stretched.
“Your big dick feels so good,” the emo whispered. His eyes closed as he surrendered. “Fuck me slow,” he pleaded. Yoshi placed his hands on the mechanic’s hairy back, holding him close, encouraging to go even further, even deeper.
This was the quietest sex they’d ever had. Mack’s forehead was dripping sweat onto the emo’s chest. He was trying desperately not to cum, but Yoshi’s cunt gripped him tight. He moved his hips slowly, almost glacially, wanting this experience to last forever.
The emo moaned softly.
All they could hear were their hearts beating inside their chests.
“I wish I had a womb,” whispered Yoshi, eyes still closed in bliss.
“What do you mean?” asked the mechanic.
Yoshi’s dark brown eyes opened, and he stared deep into the mechanic’s clear blue irises like he was peering into the cavernous depths of his soul. “I wish you could make me pregnant,” he said.
The mechanic roared with the fire of a hundred exploding suns, shooting thick white bullets deep into the emo’s infertile cunt. Yoshi’s painted black fingernails curled into Mack’s back, digging shallowly into his hairy flesh.