"Sixteen," Kira lights a cigarette while studying the vending machines without any real interest except knowing the shortest route to the next available cup of coffee. "Third door to the left."
He has always been better at numbers than girls' hair colours. It's been three months since he last visited this place but he still remembers the room, the number of vending machines, everything except her. That's how he lives his life, no emotional attachment. Hah. Reality is ironic. He smirks again, blowing out a stream of smoke before offering Katou the cigarette and heading for the right door.
"I hope you don't mind me choosing my usual room," he raises an eyebrow to let his friend know that he is fooling around. Mind-fucking makes such a nice teaser before the actual thing. "Some... people take that as an insult, you know..."
Both of them know that with "people" he means "girls". Katou isn't a girl and Kira isn't comparing him to anyone else he has ever been with. He wouldn't even if he could. It's obvious, isn't it? Katou knows that he never sleeps with the same person more than once or (very seldom) twice.
This - this thing they have going - is clumsy, stupid and horribly addictive. He just wishes that it would be as innocent an over-step in his case as in Katou's.
There is a bottle of London Dry Gin on the table next to the bed. It could have been a stage prop but it isn't. He opens it and swallows - one, two, three times - feels the liquid burn its way down his throat. You can always count on love-hotels to provide you with everything you need to forget every reason not to be there. Feeling warmer and calmer already he sinks down on the side of the bed, shirt falling off one shoulder, smile inviting and more confident than he actually is inside.
His company is obviously trying something similar, pretending that this is more normal than it actually is. The nervousness is disappearing though - good. There is something weirdly tempting in the way Katou looks at him as if he actually wants to challenge him. Kira enjoys a challenge and, sometimes, he actually likes to lose them. It's a nice change.
"Oh, I don't know. How about some rough, genuine, casual sex?" None of them have had enough of that in their lives. He leans back slightly, eyebrow raised, waiting for a reaction. Funny, really, how his best friend obviously desires him more - and in a more raw, honest way - than any of his many dates ever have. Even more surprising though is the fact that this doesn't make him the slightest bit bored because even if Katou wants him he has... his own ways of showing it. Screw dark rooms, blankets and "Best of Elton John" in the background. Yue Katou can't even spell "vanilla" and when he has had things the way he likes them Kira can't either.
Here we go again. Kira's smirk melts away as they kiss. It's a hungry, needy and demanding business. As if both of them want to make sure that the other one is there and stays there without necessarily having to admit this to each other verbally. It's a shame that things have to be the way they are, really. It is painfully obvious that Katou won't be able to consider this a mere time-killer activity for much longer. Kira... will of course never be able to make a commitment. Not even if the situation allowed him to. Like everyone else around him Katou deserves someone much more true, much less likely to hurt and manipulate. No, this is a mistake and it has to end soon, before both of them waste more time being ridiculous.
Of course this doesn't explain why he, instead of being rational, lets himself fall backwards down on the bed, dragging Katou with him, mouths still locked in a deeper kiss than Kira can remember having shared with anyone except the one woman he is still chasing - many hundred years after their last romantic (if that is what you call it) encounter.
"Why don't you give me some of your best then?" he says - amused but no longer teasing. Katou claims to be good and he is probably even better than he thinks.
It's more than a little different than last time he was here. He kicks off his own shoes and undoes another button in his shirt with one hand while letting the other one slide up inside Katou's t-shirt. It's a whole lot different than touching any girl he has ever been involved with - a completely different kind of soft. Ribs, dirty hair, needle tracks... Different.
There is a pang of familiar - welcome - pain shooting up his spine as Katou begins to work on his neck. Tomorrow there will be a mark just there, reminding him that whatever is about to happen actually did happen. It's going to make him hate himself for being so careless but that is just one part of it. Right now the Gin is getting to his head and at least his body seem to know exactly what it wants at the moment.
Damn this lazy junkie for knowing just what to do. Damn him. A first moan escapes his lips as Katou nibbles on an especially good spot. What is it his best friend always says? Whatever happens happens. He smiles, both hands on Katou's back now, sliding in and out of his jeans, urging him to continue.
Before it happened he sometimes did contemplate having sex with Katou but somehow he always failed to imagine that this would turn him oddly indifferent to sex with, well, other people. Street sluts and high school girl don't tempt him like they use to. They can't pin him down, can't bite hard enough, can't... fuck him so hard he will remember how it felt like two days after.
The smile turns into a smirk as he finally decides to stop thinking. "Without even checking for mushrooms first? Katou, Katou. I might start thinking you really like this."
Another moan escapes him as Katou starts paying attention to his already stiff nipples. His back arches upwards, a reflex he wouldn't have been able to stop even if he wanted to. Even in this single life he has a wider sexual experience than anyone else he has ever heard of yet this is something so strong (so perfect) that it leaves him as bewildered as if he had never done it with anyone else before. In Kira's life sex has always been something natural, something that makes a good day a little better. Sex with Katou is also natural (as natural as breathing) but it sticks to him like super-glue (extra durable, best you ever had). It is the best he has ever had but he wouldn't admit this under torture.
He fumbles with Katou's zipper. The junkie, comfortability first as always, is wearing baggy jeans at least three-sizes too big but right now everything is too tight, too much in the way.
"I'll take that as a compliment," he says, voice almost a whisper now - unsteady, needy, not as composed as he remembers it. Slowly, but not too slow, he lets his hands slide into Katou's pants, into his underwear. If that bastard can throw him off guard he will do his best to return the favour.
"Always, baby." His voice is hoarse now, his sight dim. His head is spinning in a way that alcohol never managed. Is this madness? Of course it is but he can accept to be mad for one more night if that includes Katou pushing him down like this, possessing him, claiming him. None of all those countless girls he has bedded has ever even come close to understanding the way he likes to be wielded in bed. Katou knows how to bring out the best and the worst in him and he enjoys it.
He could break free, could over-power his scrawny delinquent friend any time he wanted to. But that would spoil it all and Kira was never one to spoil a good party.
Instead he closes his eyes, savors the feeling of not being in control, arches his hips upwards in an attempt to find... something Katou.
Truth is, he has never before experienced anything this relaxing. Or this intriguing.
His wrist still hurts slightly as he willingly follows Katou's demand. His entire groin aches from the impact of the kick (and the anticipation). It's a blessing in disguise, the fact that the junkie has little to no control over his own strength. He could take more (if Katou only knew just how much he could take) but this is... a very good start.
Good enough to make him unzip his pants and pull them down in a matter of seconds, silently cursing the way the slick jeans material sticks to his skin. Katou is struggling besides him, his own pants much easier to deal with but apparently his body is providing with enough complications.
The goth smirks as he lies back down on the bed, lazily showing himself off. He has known for years that Katou appreciates looking at his body a little too much and he takes great pleasure in giving him something to look at.
The teasing movements, too close and too far away at the same time, makes him moan... and squirm. He doesn't (didn't use to) squirm. Not for anyone. It no longer bother him though, how overly willing he must seem. There is something with Katou that makes him feel like it is okay to be honest. It's a dangerous and challenging feeling which turns him on almost as much as the thick, white liquid on his stomach.
He lift his eyes now to meet Katou's, a small smirk forming on his lips as he quickly reaches out a hand and brushes his fingers over his friend's nipples. Hoping that this will catch the junkie off guard he lifts his legs and locks them behind Katou's back, pulling him closer.
Only looking at the amount of cum seeping out of Katou's blood-filled cock tells him everything he needs to know about what state the other teen is in. The fact that this thrills him is disturbing, the fact that he is almost unable to think of anything except how badly he want said over-enthusiastic part of his best friend's body inside him even more so.
He has always been better at numbers than girls' hair colours. It's been three months since he last visited this place but he still remembers the room, the number of vending machines, everything except her. That's how he lives his life, no emotional attachment. Hah. Reality is ironic. He smirks again, blowing out a stream of smoke before offering Katou the cigarette and heading for the right door.
"I hope you don't mind me choosing my usual room," he raises an eyebrow to let his friend know that he is fooling around. Mind-fucking makes such a nice teaser before the actual thing. "Some... people take that as an insult, you know..."
Both of them know that with "people" he means "girls". Katou isn't a girl and Kira isn't comparing him to anyone else he has ever been with. He wouldn't even if he could. It's obvious, isn't it? Katou knows that he never sleeps with the same person more than once or (very seldom) twice.
This - this thing they have going - is clumsy, stupid and horribly addictive. He just wishes that it would be as innocent an over-step in his case as in Katou's.
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His company is obviously trying something similar, pretending that this is more normal than it actually is. The nervousness is disappearing though - good. There is something weirdly tempting in the way Katou looks at him as if he actually wants to challenge him. Kira enjoys a challenge and, sometimes, he actually likes to lose them. It's a nice change.
"Oh, I don't know. How about some rough, genuine, casual sex?" None of them have had enough of that in their lives. He leans back slightly, eyebrow raised, waiting for a reaction. Funny, really, how his best friend obviously desires him more - and in a more raw, honest way - than any of his many dates ever have. Even more surprising though is the fact that this doesn't make him the slightest bit bored because even if Katou wants him he has... his own ways of showing it. Screw dark rooms, blankets and "Best of Elton John" in the background. Yue Katou can't even spell "vanilla" and when he has had things the way he likes them Kira can't either.
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Of course this doesn't explain why he, instead of being rational, lets himself fall backwards down on the bed, dragging Katou with him, mouths still locked in a deeper kiss than Kira can remember having shared with anyone except the one woman he is still chasing - many hundred years after their last romantic (if that is what you call it) encounter.
"Why don't you give me some of your best then?" he says - amused but no longer teasing. Katou claims to be good and he is probably even better than he thinks.
It's more than a little different than last time he was here. He kicks off his own shoes and undoes another button in his shirt with one hand while letting the other one slide up inside Katou's t-shirt. It's a whole lot different than touching any girl he has ever been involved with - a completely different kind of soft. Ribs, dirty hair, needle tracks... Different.
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Damn this lazy junkie for knowing just what to do. Damn him. A first moan escapes his lips as Katou nibbles on an especially good spot. What is it his best friend always says? Whatever happens happens. He smiles, both hands on Katou's back now, sliding in and out of his jeans, urging him to continue.
Before it happened he sometimes did contemplate having sex with Katou but somehow he always failed to imagine that this would turn him oddly indifferent to sex with, well, other people. Street sluts and high school girl don't tempt him like they use to. They can't pin him down, can't bite hard enough, can't... fuck him so hard he will remember how it felt like two days after.
The smile turns into a smirk as he finally decides to stop thinking.
"Without even checking for mushrooms first? Katou, Katou. I might start thinking you really like this."
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He fumbles with Katou's zipper. The junkie, comfortability first as always, is wearing baggy jeans at least three-sizes too big but right now everything is too tight, too much in the way.
"I'll take that as a compliment," he says, voice almost a whisper now - unsteady, needy, not as composed as he remembers it. Slowly, but not too slow, he lets his hands slide into Katou's pants, into his underwear. If that bastard can throw him off guard he will do his best to return the favour.
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He could break free, could over-power his scrawny delinquent friend any time he wanted to. But that would spoil it all and Kira was never one to spoil a good party.
Instead he closes his eyes, savors the feeling of not being in control, arches his hips upwards in an attempt to find... something Katou.
Truth is, he has never before experienced anything this relaxing. Or this intriguing.
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Good enough to make him unzip his pants and pull them down in a matter of seconds, silently cursing the way the slick jeans material sticks to his skin. Katou is struggling besides him, his own pants much easier to deal with but apparently his body is providing with enough complications.
The goth smirks as he lies back down on the bed, lazily showing himself off. He has known for years that Katou appreciates looking at his body a little too much and he takes great pleasure in giving him something to look at.
"Better?"
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He lift his eyes now to meet Katou's, a small smirk forming on his lips as he quickly reaches out a hand and brushes his fingers over his friend's nipples. Hoping that this will catch the junkie off guard he lifts his legs and locks them behind Katou's back, pulling him closer.
Only looking at the amount of cum seeping out of Katou's blood-filled cock tells him everything he needs to know about what state the other teen is in. The fact that this thrills him is disturbing, the fact that he is almost unable to think of anything except how badly he want said over-enthusiastic part of his best friend's body inside him even more so.
"Come on now, baby. You know you want to..."
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