RP Log - Niou, Kirihara, Marui
When: St. Patrick's.
Summary: Niou drags to party at classmates. Boys get drunk. Niou shoves them in a closet. There are blowjobs. And snarking and bitching and fighting and eventually back to Kiri's room for a sad lack of sex.
The only thought a fuzzyheaded Bunta Marui had the minute he was unceremoniously shoved into some stranger’s closest, was why that song? Akaya was fast in following him, tossed along behind him by an arrogantly smirking hedgehog of an old friend. Bunta might have been drunk off his rocker, but he still wasn’t so far gone that he didn’t remember there was a reason he’d been avoiding close contact with his best friend since right before classes had begun, but right then with his brain nice befuddled by the booze he’d consumed since being dragged to the party, he couldn’t exactly pinpoint why. Especially when Akaya stumbled into him, heat radiating off his body in the most delicious way, making a notorious snuggle-whore covet and long for closer contact.
~Don't be shy girl come to me
Open up your heart and I'll set you free ~
He shook his head, trying to see his way past the fuzzy thoughts clouding his brain. “Haru, get me outta here!” The pitifully weak demand came about the same time the closing of a door sealed away the light streaming in from the bedroom outside the closest, leaving Bunta locked inside with one of the sexiest men on campus (at least in his opinion, anyway.). Which was a bad thing. A very bad thing. Or so his brain screamed, even though he couldn’t remember exactly why.
I want to touch you all the right places, baby. The next line of the song, muffled and distorted by the wooden barrier, slithered through his brain, triggering the memory of just why he wasn’t supposed to be alone with his best friend, much less locked inside a cramped little prison with no room to move, and certainly no space between them.
So right, Haru'd decided to drag them to some party one of his classmates was having, and Akaya guessed he couldn't really complain because it meant free beer. However after several rounds and a few shots of whiskey his guard had dropped enough for Haru to manage to wrestle his can away from him and shove him into a closet with... Bunta? Awesome, party in the closet just like when they were kids.
"Fuckin' Haru ssstoled my beeerer." He pouted with a slur. That wasn't fuckin' fair, not at all. His head swam, balance enough out of whack to leave a rather drunk German wobbling and leaning back against the wall. He wasn't exactly sure why Haru'd shoved him in a closet (had he thrown up somewhere?) but despite the tight confines it was rather comfy in here.
“So get ‘nother when you get out.” Bunta mumbled, quickly moving to try and put a whole lot of distance between them. Granted, it was an impossible feat since the closet was so damn tiny, and he ended up being squished back against the wall with less than a foot of space between them thanks to the clothes taking up the rest of the room he wished he had at that moment. Niou was playing games, and it irked the boy whose pleasant buzz was playing havoc with his determination to not jump his best friend.
"ll kick his ass." Akaya grumbled, fighting momentarily with a coat that seemed to have popped out of nowhere to attack. Stupid alive coat things and stupid Haru. He'd been having fun before, even if Bunta had basically been avoiding him from the minute they'd walked in the door. "N yer stupid."
“Am not!” Bunta retorted with a low, huffy growl. He shoved a shirt out of his face, and shot a glare toward where he thought his best friend stood. “You’re the stupid one,” he continued, shifting along the wall, and turning to deliver a kick toward what he hoped was Akaya’s leg.
"Yer the one who bitched about not getting to see me then-- fuck!" The fuck was that for? He hadn't done anything, what the shit. A fist went flying, however with the lack of a fully functional brain his aim was definitely off and the blow glanced off the wall somewhere near the vicinity of Bunta's shoulder.
“So wha…” Bunta froze, eyes widening when fist met wall, and the distinct thud alerted him to the fact that his friend had moved. “Hey,” he cried, when that grazed his shoulder, shifting and lunging forward to slam his smaller form into the shadow in front of him.
What the shit was with Bunta and trying to kill him today? Belatedly Akaya shifted, trying to move out of the way but failing miserably; shoulders slamming back against the wall when the other's weight hit him. "Hey!"
Belatedly, he realized what a mistake it was to give into the anger that one little hit had awakened. Breathing heavily, he stood practically plastered against Akaya, smaller form trembling from head to toe while his senses were assaulted. He randomly thought that his best friend smelled too damn good, despite the taint of alcohol that seemed to be seeped into his clothes, not to mention he was so warm, and Bunta could feel the lean muscles beneath the shirt his hands fisted in so suddenly.
”God,” he grumbled a bit peeved by his faltering will to remain aloof. “Yer friggen ignorant, Akaya.” Now, he mused a bit drunkenly, jerking on the shirt he held with a desperate grip. Was probably the right moment to put Niou’s instructions to work, but geez, what if Bunta’s fears were right, and his best friend found it disgusting to be intimate with him?
"The fuck'er you talkin' about." This whole situation was to goddamn confusing for a fogged over mind; he wasn't even sure why the hell he was still in the damn closet. Growling quietly hands rose, fingers curling around Bunta's shoulders (fuck his knuckles hurt) and squeezing slightly.
What was it Niou had said? Akaya’s kind of dumb, apple dumpling. I suggest jumping on him and either a) shoving your tongue down his throat or b) shoving a hand down his pants. Neither prospect filled Bunta with much confidence, mostly because it was Akaya in question, and he really didn’t want to screw up a perfectly wonderful friendship because his hormones had suddenly decided to go wonky.
Groaning, just a bit embarrassed by the thought of what he was contemplating, the redhead rose to the tips of his toes, and blindly sought the mouth spewing obscenities.
Okay, that definitely hadn't been expected but who the fuck was he to complain, it was common knowledge that this was the sort of thing college parties were for (particularly considering Shira's Xbox was nowhere in sight). It may not have been right but far too much alcohol was quite doing its job in making Akaya not really give a fuck. And it wasn't as if he hadn't ever entertained certain thoughts about his friend on various occasions throughout the years. Fingers tightened on Bunta's shoulders, tongue slipping out to lap at lips that sought his own a bit sloppily. Somewhere off to the side he heard a loud thump and a muffled voice but couldn't be bothered to actually pay attention to it when he already had something much more interesting to concentrate on.
Bunta absently thought that he was being presented with far too many things to try and focus on. First there was that body so close to his, the hands that pulled him just a little closer and fingers digging into his shoulders, and the tongue that slicked over his lips, invite them to part on a breathless whimper of sound. And then there was the noise outside, the party in full swing, and the insistent thumping of a fist slapping against the closet door, followed by Niou’s sulking voice stating, “I don’t hear any noise in there, cupcake. Wha’ the hell are ya waiting for?”
Embarrassment crowded him, whispering thoughts of clawing his way out of the closet, and then telling of the joys a mad dash away from the party would bring. Yet, there was that mouth that hovered so close to his, that tongue that lapped gently along bruised lips, and the need to go further. He was helpless to do anything but allow his hands the pleasure of releasing that shirt so that they could creep higher, snaking behind Akaya’s neck to tug him down far enough to take his sloppily begun kiss to a new level. “Touch me!” It was a demand more than a request, a revelation drunkenly spilled while the redhead had the convenience of alcohol clouding his judgment, enough so that he knew everything he did tonight, he’d blame on the booze, if nothing else.
That was a request Akaya wasn't sure he couldn't follow through in even if he tried. Almost on their own devices hands dropped to curl his arms around Bunta's waist and fingers clawed at his back. His head tilted, tongue delving into the other's mouth almost hungrily. At this point he couldn't be sure if it was the affect of alcohol or maybe horribly repressed sexual desire concerning his friend that made Akaya continue, a small purr rumbling in his throat as hands tugged at Bunta's shirt maybe a little too eagerly. He didn't really care what the hell happened but the alcohol didn't seem to want to let him ignore such an invitation.
“I’m still not hearing anything!” Niou stressed somewhere from outside the barrier of wood that blocked the outside world from spying first hand the way Bunta fell captive to that kiss. He caught the purr of contentment that bled from mouth to mouth, nearly trembling from the effects of knowing he had caused it. Bunta reluctantly dragged his hands down, releasing his hold on Akaya, searching for the hands that pulled at his shirt so eagerly. He tried to help in pulling it free, sought to release each button that held it securely about him, but nervous tension didn’t make an easy game of it, especially when that annoying voice, shrill from too much drink resounded outside. “Apple dumpling, do I need ta come in there and show ya how it’s done?”
Akaya fumbled with the shirt, not really caring when he heard a slight rip after yanking on it a bit too hard. He growled when the sound of a very drunken Haru bled through the rustle of hung clothes and panted breaths, foot swinging out to kick at the door in annoyance. Fucking asshole. Akaya's head ducked, teeth latching on to what he was fairly certain was Bunta's shoulder. Teeth worked at the other man's skin before lips took over, suckling lightly while hands busied themselves over a well-toned if not slightly padded stomach. He couldn't exactly see what the hell he was doing but this was probably one of those things you didn't need sight to accomplish.
The dork had ripped his shirt! Flushing with annoyance, Bunta nearly blasted his companion for destroying one of his favorite shirts, when sharp teeth latching onto his shoulder dragged a low moan from his lips. Suddenly that shirt didn’t seem so important, certainly not as important as fumbling with Akaya’s shirt, hands bunching in soft cloth to tug and pull with frantic motions. “Damn it,” he hissed a second later, nipping sharply at an enticing earlobe, tongue flicking out to sooth and explore seconds after. To hell with getting the shirt off the other. Why worry about it when his hands could dive beneath it? Bunta thought the idea a fantastically grand one, and did just that, even as he shot an annoyed glance toward the door just kicked. Bunta’s gaze had been drawn by howling laughter and then a declaration of “Honey Bun, didn’t I tell ya just to shove your tongue down his throat, and your hand down his pants?”
"Gonna kick yer asssss, Haru." Akaya griped. Really, he was. Once he was finished in here and maybe could actually think straight. ...Not important at the moment. What was important was the tongue in his ear and the hands wandering up his shirt. Haru's suggestion, however, didn't seem like such a bad idea at the moment (idly Akaya wondered how many 'it seemed like a good idea at the time...'s he'd had in his life) and down his hand slipped, cupping his palm over rough fabric. With nary a care his head ducked again, nuzzling down the side of Bunta's face and letting his tongue lave down along Bunta's neck. Akaya wasn't sure how long he'd wanted to do something like this with his friend, but maybe the not-so subtle nudge from a hedgehog-headed friend had been a good thing indeed. "Fuck 'em. Haru can burn in hell later." He murmured against Bunta's neck just before teeth nipped and nibbled along soft flesh.
“Yeah. Yeah. You and what army?” Niou quickly fired back, smirk curling his lips upward. His friends had been in that closet less than five minutes, or was it ten? He couldn’t remember, but with Akaya acting like a dumbass, the white-haired hedgehog figured a level up on the annoyance factor was due, so while a dazed redhead melted to a putty like state on the inside, whimpering soft pleading words for more, the door was ripped open, and a hand fisted in the back of Akaya’s shirt, giving a good jerk. “Time’s up, Liebechen! It’s my turn.”
"The army of my foot versus your ass." Akaya stumbled back at the sharp tug, squawking when arms went flying out to grab hold of Bunta in some attempt at keeping his balance and not falling flat on his ass. "Fuckin' shit, man!" What the shit was this? He was just getting some fucking action and Haru had to go and fuck it all up.
"You're too slow." Niou grinned, leaning over the man against his chest to catch Bunta's lips with his own in a doozy of a drunken kiss. "That's how you do it, not this pussyfooting around shit you're doing." Dropping his chin on Akaya's shoulder he laughed, a wide and very drunk looking grin cast to Bunta. "Right, cupcake?"
“Wha’?” Bunta asked stupidly, wide eyes trailing from Niou to Akaya and back again. The switch had happened too swiftly for him to comprehend beyond a basic knowledge that the one kissing him wasn’t the same one who had been kissing him to begin with. When he did fathom that his time with Akaya had come to an end, and that two very different men were eyeing him in his disarrayed state- shirt unbuttoned, torn and hanging open, with hair of red wildly mussed from their session of grope and be groped- Bunta edged his way to the side, and then tried for a quick escape out the door.
"Up, no ya don't!" Niou heckled, giving Akaya a nice shove back into the closet and stepping back to slam the door in Bunta's face. Whee, this was fun! And about that time someone shoved another drink in his hand, and back to leaning against the door and shmoozing he went.
"Fucking bastard!" Akaya screeched through the door once he'd managed to sloppily right himself. Well that had certainly been interesting, but he wasn't nearly about to let it deter him from what had previously been started. Hands blindly groped for his friend, fingers catching Bunta's shirt and tugging on it. ...At least he'd thought it was Bunta's shirt anyway, except for the fact that it fell right off the hanger. Grunting quietly he tried again, this time actually managing to catch the other man's arm and pulling him back against his chest.
“Hey!” Bunta scrambled for the door, stopping short of the thing smacking him in the face. He stared stupidly, liquor-brightened eyes unable to comprehend how swiftly he’d been locked in again. Such was his fascination with how he’d been thoroughly corralled a second time, he didn’t even notice Akaya’s mad search for his shirt until a hand closed over his arm, and then jerked him back against a broad chest.
"Hey, what." The bigger man purred, letting hands grope around a bit to curl his arms around Bunta's waist; head ducking to nuzzle along the other's neck. "Ignore him." And pay attention to me.
“S’hard to ignore him when he’s in asshole mode.” Bunta griped, eyes snapping with ire despite the delicate shiver a nuzzling cheek teased out of his spine.
"He's always in asshole mode." Tongue slid along Bunta's neck and teeth nipped at sensitive skin, hands beginning to head back into their previous state of wandering. Fingers traced over bare flesh, blunt nails scratching lightly over Bunta's stomach and sliding lower by the second. Horny? Yeah. Drunk or not his friend was hot and if he had it his way he'd be getting off at some point, somehow.
“Not always,” Bunta disagreed, as he writhed beneath the hand tantalizing his stomach. He couldn’t believe they were having this conversation, especially when it felt like Akaya was doing his best to get closer and closer to a very pressing need that couldn’t be hidden, even in the dark. For that matter, he couldn’t believe just what he was doing there in that closet when he should have been running in the opposite direction.
"Most of the time." Came a slurred response as one hand slid lower, palm rubbing lightly at a rather obvious (once felt, anyway) bulge in Bunta's pants. Oh ho~? Akaya nipped at the other's neck before his head lifted slightly, kisses trailing over Bunta's neck and cheek in search of a pair of soft lips. "Less he's got ya in his bed." He murmured against Bunta's mouth, as he pressed closer.
He really wanted to contradict his friend, mainly because that had always been the way the games was played, but this time Akaya was correct. And that normally would have been enough to make the tiny redheaded spitfire blow his top, but there was those fleeting kisses ghosting over his neck, and soft lips that sought his own, which meant he barely managed to gasp for breath before it was stolen sneakily. However, it didn’t stop the sudden shock in wide eyes when a hand brushed over his length, nor did it prevent a low moan from vibrating in his chest.
“I’ve,” he whispered, distracted by the sensation that seduced his body into arching, hips lifting to rub against his companion’s palm. “Fond memories of his bed.” But it wasn’t Niou’s bed Bunta wanted to be in right that moment, nor was it his lovemaking the young man craved when he shifted forward, actively seeking to close the remaining distance between them.
A smirk curled over Akaya's lips (not that Bunta could see it) and teeth clamped down lightly on Bunta's lower lip, pulling slightly before dipping his head to press a kiss full on the other's mouth. Fingers continued to rub before clumsily sliding up to the older man's waistband, fumbling for the zip blindly and tugging on it when fingers finally found cool metal. "Got plenty myself." He purred, tongue flicking out along Bunta's lip. Haru may have been good in the sack but it wasn't Haru who currently drew him in like a moth to a flame.
Bunta stiffened, brain suddenly bombarded by a dozen images he could have done without, especially when an emotion close to jealousy reared its head. “Hmm.” He all but purred, instinctively reacting to the fingers that grazed his stomach ever so lightly in the process of fumbling for his zipper, and dragging it down. “Ya think,” came a hesitant probing while he hungrily lapped at the tongue anointing his bottom lip with tender strokes. “We can not talk about Haru right now?”
"Un." Somewhere in a foggy mind his conscious told him maybe it was a bad idea to talk about the last person one had had sex with with the one one planned on getting in the sack at some point. Akaya nipped at the older man's tongue, hand sliding between layers of cloth eagerly and fingers teasing over rigid flesh.
"Un." Somewhere in a foggy mind his conscious told him maybe it was a bad idea to talk about the last person one had had sex with with the one one planned on getting in the sack at some point. Akaya nipped at the older man's tongue, hand sliding between layers of cloth eagerly and fingers teasing over rigid flesh.
A keening moan slipped from mouth to mouth, words trembling and tripping off his tongue when light fingers danced over velvet warmth. “Akaya, please!” Bunta wasn’t sure where that bite of jealousy came from, and he knew it was best not to show how annoyed it made him to know, without a doubt, that this man spent time in Niou’s bed, and probably would again. But that was not something he wanted to dwell on with that hand so close that all he had to do was shift his hips forward, thrusting against the heat that tempted him.
"What." His voice was low, a quiet growl rumbling in his chest when his chin tilted and tongue pushed into Bunta's mouth. His hand paused as he shifted, pressing closer to the smaller man and letting his free hand slide up along a bared chest.
Bunta wasn’t prepared for Akaya to display signs of being an asshole, not in their current situation. But when the reply came, all but stating he’d have to spell it out word for word, he got a huge clue, and it was enough to make him growl in frustration. “Don’t play games with me.” He snarled, antsy with an inability to withdraw from his current state of being. It was too late to throw up barriers, to pretend he was focused on anything else but where that hand was, and what it promised with just a light brush of fingers over a straining erection.
"But I wanna." The words came out on a slight whine and his head dropped to nuzzle along Bunta's neck as his hand worked to tug the length free of restraining fabric. Maybe he should be good, not taunt or tease as he usually did or would. Tongue flicked along skin when he slid down, nipping over Bunta's chest and stomach as he slid to his knees. Wobbling slightly his free hand clutched at the other man's thigh, lapping at the slight jut of a hipbone before Akaya's head ducked to pull the tip of Bunta's erection into his mouth. He hadn't done this in a while but it wasn't exactly one of those things that got worse with lack of practice.
“Not now. Later. Another ti…” Bunta conceded, words screeching to a halt when a blindingly wet, hot heat closed over him. Trembling hands immediately dropped to a head of wild curls, desperately entwining lean fingers in the strands he chose to use as his tether to reality. His time with Niou, as enlightening as it was, hadn’t prepared him for what it would actually be like to be pleasured by that mouth. The difference in his emotions then, and what he felt now set off a domino effect in the young man who stumbled back against the wall, just a few inches in search of something to support him, because he swore his legs wouldn’t do the job.
Well that certainly seemed to be a way of getting Bunta to shut up that didn't involve occupying his mouth. Tongue slid slowly over the tip as lips closed around the length, sucking lightly. With nary a care to consequences Akaya's fingers curled around the other's erection, stroking firmly while his mouth concentrated on the last few inches. With any good luck Haru would stay the hell away for a while and Bunta would say exactly what he wanted to hear.
Soft sounds escaped him, rising in volume with each stroke of hand over his length, and the more that mouth worked along his hardness, the more he struggled against allowing words to escape him. But the battle Bunta valiantly fought was lost the minute he focused slitted eyes on the man at his feet, shadowed and nothing more than a blending of darkness with darkness. “More!” he husked, voice trembling with need as insistent fingers tightened in inky strands.
...tbc because lj is a whore.
Summary: Niou drags to party at classmates. Boys get drunk. Niou shoves them in a closet. There are blowjobs. And snarking and bitching and fighting and eventually back to Kiri's room for a sad lack of sex.
The only thought a fuzzyheaded Bunta Marui had the minute he was unceremoniously shoved into some stranger’s closest, was why that song? Akaya was fast in following him, tossed along behind him by an arrogantly smirking hedgehog of an old friend. Bunta might have been drunk off his rocker, but he still wasn’t so far gone that he didn’t remember there was a reason he’d been avoiding close contact with his best friend since right before classes had begun, but right then with his brain nice befuddled by the booze he’d consumed since being dragged to the party, he couldn’t exactly pinpoint why. Especially when Akaya stumbled into him, heat radiating off his body in the most delicious way, making a notorious snuggle-whore covet and long for closer contact.
~Don't be shy girl come to me
Open up your heart and I'll set you free ~
He shook his head, trying to see his way past the fuzzy thoughts clouding his brain. “Haru, get me outta here!” The pitifully weak demand came about the same time the closing of a door sealed away the light streaming in from the bedroom outside the closest, leaving Bunta locked inside with one of the sexiest men on campus (at least in his opinion, anyway.). Which was a bad thing. A very bad thing. Or so his brain screamed, even though he couldn’t remember exactly why.
I want to touch you all the right places, baby. The next line of the song, muffled and distorted by the wooden barrier, slithered through his brain, triggering the memory of just why he wasn’t supposed to be alone with his best friend, much less locked inside a cramped little prison with no room to move, and certainly no space between them.
So right, Haru'd decided to drag them to some party one of his classmates was having, and Akaya guessed he couldn't really complain because it meant free beer. However after several rounds and a few shots of whiskey his guard had dropped enough for Haru to manage to wrestle his can away from him and shove him into a closet with... Bunta? Awesome, party in the closet just like when they were kids.
"Fuckin' Haru ssstoled my beeerer." He pouted with a slur. That wasn't fuckin' fair, not at all. His head swam, balance enough out of whack to leave a rather drunk German wobbling and leaning back against the wall. He wasn't exactly sure why Haru'd shoved him in a closet (had he thrown up somewhere?) but despite the tight confines it was rather comfy in here.
“So get ‘nother when you get out.” Bunta mumbled, quickly moving to try and put a whole lot of distance between them. Granted, it was an impossible feat since the closet was so damn tiny, and he ended up being squished back against the wall with less than a foot of space between them thanks to the clothes taking up the rest of the room he wished he had at that moment. Niou was playing games, and it irked the boy whose pleasant buzz was playing havoc with his determination to not jump his best friend.
"ll kick his ass." Akaya grumbled, fighting momentarily with a coat that seemed to have popped out of nowhere to attack. Stupid alive coat things and stupid Haru. He'd been having fun before, even if Bunta had basically been avoiding him from the minute they'd walked in the door. "N yer stupid."
“Am not!” Bunta retorted with a low, huffy growl. He shoved a shirt out of his face, and shot a glare toward where he thought his best friend stood. “You’re the stupid one,” he continued, shifting along the wall, and turning to deliver a kick toward what he hoped was Akaya’s leg.
"Yer the one who bitched about not getting to see me then-- fuck!" The fuck was that for? He hadn't done anything, what the shit. A fist went flying, however with the lack of a fully functional brain his aim was definitely off and the blow glanced off the wall somewhere near the vicinity of Bunta's shoulder.
“So wha…” Bunta froze, eyes widening when fist met wall, and the distinct thud alerted him to the fact that his friend had moved. “Hey,” he cried, when that grazed his shoulder, shifting and lunging forward to slam his smaller form into the shadow in front of him.
What the shit was with Bunta and trying to kill him today? Belatedly Akaya shifted, trying to move out of the way but failing miserably; shoulders slamming back against the wall when the other's weight hit him. "Hey!"
Belatedly, he realized what a mistake it was to give into the anger that one little hit had awakened. Breathing heavily, he stood practically plastered against Akaya, smaller form trembling from head to toe while his senses were assaulted. He randomly thought that his best friend smelled too damn good, despite the taint of alcohol that seemed to be seeped into his clothes, not to mention he was so warm, and Bunta could feel the lean muscles beneath the shirt his hands fisted in so suddenly.
”God,” he grumbled a bit peeved by his faltering will to remain aloof. “Yer friggen ignorant, Akaya.” Now, he mused a bit drunkenly, jerking on the shirt he held with a desperate grip. Was probably the right moment to put Niou’s instructions to work, but geez, what if Bunta’s fears were right, and his best friend found it disgusting to be intimate with him?
"The fuck'er you talkin' about." This whole situation was to goddamn confusing for a fogged over mind; he wasn't even sure why the hell he was still in the damn closet. Growling quietly hands rose, fingers curling around Bunta's shoulders (fuck his knuckles hurt) and squeezing slightly.
What was it Niou had said? Akaya’s kind of dumb, apple dumpling. I suggest jumping on him and either a) shoving your tongue down his throat or b) shoving a hand down his pants. Neither prospect filled Bunta with much confidence, mostly because it was Akaya in question, and he really didn’t want to screw up a perfectly wonderful friendship because his hormones had suddenly decided to go wonky.
Groaning, just a bit embarrassed by the thought of what he was contemplating, the redhead rose to the tips of his toes, and blindly sought the mouth spewing obscenities.
Okay, that definitely hadn't been expected but who the fuck was he to complain, it was common knowledge that this was the sort of thing college parties were for (particularly considering Shira's Xbox was nowhere in sight). It may not have been right but far too much alcohol was quite doing its job in making Akaya not really give a fuck. And it wasn't as if he hadn't ever entertained certain thoughts about his friend on various occasions throughout the years. Fingers tightened on Bunta's shoulders, tongue slipping out to lap at lips that sought his own a bit sloppily. Somewhere off to the side he heard a loud thump and a muffled voice but couldn't be bothered to actually pay attention to it when he already had something much more interesting to concentrate on.
Bunta absently thought that he was being presented with far too many things to try and focus on. First there was that body so close to his, the hands that pulled him just a little closer and fingers digging into his shoulders, and the tongue that slicked over his lips, invite them to part on a breathless whimper of sound. And then there was the noise outside, the party in full swing, and the insistent thumping of a fist slapping against the closet door, followed by Niou’s sulking voice stating, “I don’t hear any noise in there, cupcake. Wha’ the hell are ya waiting for?”
Embarrassment crowded him, whispering thoughts of clawing his way out of the closet, and then telling of the joys a mad dash away from the party would bring. Yet, there was that mouth that hovered so close to his, that tongue that lapped gently along bruised lips, and the need to go further. He was helpless to do anything but allow his hands the pleasure of releasing that shirt so that they could creep higher, snaking behind Akaya’s neck to tug him down far enough to take his sloppily begun kiss to a new level. “Touch me!” It was a demand more than a request, a revelation drunkenly spilled while the redhead had the convenience of alcohol clouding his judgment, enough so that he knew everything he did tonight, he’d blame on the booze, if nothing else.
That was a request Akaya wasn't sure he couldn't follow through in even if he tried. Almost on their own devices hands dropped to curl his arms around Bunta's waist and fingers clawed at his back. His head tilted, tongue delving into the other's mouth almost hungrily. At this point he couldn't be sure if it was the affect of alcohol or maybe horribly repressed sexual desire concerning his friend that made Akaya continue, a small purr rumbling in his throat as hands tugged at Bunta's shirt maybe a little too eagerly. He didn't really care what the hell happened but the alcohol didn't seem to want to let him ignore such an invitation.
“I’m still not hearing anything!” Niou stressed somewhere from outside the barrier of wood that blocked the outside world from spying first hand the way Bunta fell captive to that kiss. He caught the purr of contentment that bled from mouth to mouth, nearly trembling from the effects of knowing he had caused it. Bunta reluctantly dragged his hands down, releasing his hold on Akaya, searching for the hands that pulled at his shirt so eagerly. He tried to help in pulling it free, sought to release each button that held it securely about him, but nervous tension didn’t make an easy game of it, especially when that annoying voice, shrill from too much drink resounded outside. “Apple dumpling, do I need ta come in there and show ya how it’s done?”
Akaya fumbled with the shirt, not really caring when he heard a slight rip after yanking on it a bit too hard. He growled when the sound of a very drunken Haru bled through the rustle of hung clothes and panted breaths, foot swinging out to kick at the door in annoyance. Fucking asshole. Akaya's head ducked, teeth latching on to what he was fairly certain was Bunta's shoulder. Teeth worked at the other man's skin before lips took over, suckling lightly while hands busied themselves over a well-toned if not slightly padded stomach. He couldn't exactly see what the hell he was doing but this was probably one of those things you didn't need sight to accomplish.
The dork had ripped his shirt! Flushing with annoyance, Bunta nearly blasted his companion for destroying one of his favorite shirts, when sharp teeth latching onto his shoulder dragged a low moan from his lips. Suddenly that shirt didn’t seem so important, certainly not as important as fumbling with Akaya’s shirt, hands bunching in soft cloth to tug and pull with frantic motions. “Damn it,” he hissed a second later, nipping sharply at an enticing earlobe, tongue flicking out to sooth and explore seconds after. To hell with getting the shirt off the other. Why worry about it when his hands could dive beneath it? Bunta thought the idea a fantastically grand one, and did just that, even as he shot an annoyed glance toward the door just kicked. Bunta’s gaze had been drawn by howling laughter and then a declaration of “Honey Bun, didn’t I tell ya just to shove your tongue down his throat, and your hand down his pants?”
"Gonna kick yer asssss, Haru." Akaya griped. Really, he was. Once he was finished in here and maybe could actually think straight. ...Not important at the moment. What was important was the tongue in his ear and the hands wandering up his shirt. Haru's suggestion, however, didn't seem like such a bad idea at the moment (idly Akaya wondered how many 'it seemed like a good idea at the time...'s he'd had in his life) and down his hand slipped, cupping his palm over rough fabric. With nary a care his head ducked again, nuzzling down the side of Bunta's face and letting his tongue lave down along Bunta's neck. Akaya wasn't sure how long he'd wanted to do something like this with his friend, but maybe the not-so subtle nudge from a hedgehog-headed friend had been a good thing indeed. "Fuck 'em. Haru can burn in hell later." He murmured against Bunta's neck just before teeth nipped and nibbled along soft flesh.
“Yeah. Yeah. You and what army?” Niou quickly fired back, smirk curling his lips upward. His friends had been in that closet less than five minutes, or was it ten? He couldn’t remember, but with Akaya acting like a dumbass, the white-haired hedgehog figured a level up on the annoyance factor was due, so while a dazed redhead melted to a putty like state on the inside, whimpering soft pleading words for more, the door was ripped open, and a hand fisted in the back of Akaya’s shirt, giving a good jerk. “Time’s up, Liebechen! It’s my turn.”
"The army of my foot versus your ass." Akaya stumbled back at the sharp tug, squawking when arms went flying out to grab hold of Bunta in some attempt at keeping his balance and not falling flat on his ass. "Fuckin' shit, man!" What the shit was this? He was just getting some fucking action and Haru had to go and fuck it all up.
"You're too slow." Niou grinned, leaning over the man against his chest to catch Bunta's lips with his own in a doozy of a drunken kiss. "That's how you do it, not this pussyfooting around shit you're doing." Dropping his chin on Akaya's shoulder he laughed, a wide and very drunk looking grin cast to Bunta. "Right, cupcake?"
“Wha’?” Bunta asked stupidly, wide eyes trailing from Niou to Akaya and back again. The switch had happened too swiftly for him to comprehend beyond a basic knowledge that the one kissing him wasn’t the same one who had been kissing him to begin with. When he did fathom that his time with Akaya had come to an end, and that two very different men were eyeing him in his disarrayed state- shirt unbuttoned, torn and hanging open, with hair of red wildly mussed from their session of grope and be groped- Bunta edged his way to the side, and then tried for a quick escape out the door.
"Up, no ya don't!" Niou heckled, giving Akaya a nice shove back into the closet and stepping back to slam the door in Bunta's face. Whee, this was fun! And about that time someone shoved another drink in his hand, and back to leaning against the door and shmoozing he went.
"Fucking bastard!" Akaya screeched through the door once he'd managed to sloppily right himself. Well that had certainly been interesting, but he wasn't nearly about to let it deter him from what had previously been started. Hands blindly groped for his friend, fingers catching Bunta's shirt and tugging on it. ...At least he'd thought it was Bunta's shirt anyway, except for the fact that it fell right off the hanger. Grunting quietly he tried again, this time actually managing to catch the other man's arm and pulling him back against his chest.
“Hey!” Bunta scrambled for the door, stopping short of the thing smacking him in the face. He stared stupidly, liquor-brightened eyes unable to comprehend how swiftly he’d been locked in again. Such was his fascination with how he’d been thoroughly corralled a second time, he didn’t even notice Akaya’s mad search for his shirt until a hand closed over his arm, and then jerked him back against a broad chest.
"Hey, what." The bigger man purred, letting hands grope around a bit to curl his arms around Bunta's waist; head ducking to nuzzle along the other's neck. "Ignore him." And pay attention to me.
“S’hard to ignore him when he’s in asshole mode.” Bunta griped, eyes snapping with ire despite the delicate shiver a nuzzling cheek teased out of his spine.
"He's always in asshole mode." Tongue slid along Bunta's neck and teeth nipped at sensitive skin, hands beginning to head back into their previous state of wandering. Fingers traced over bare flesh, blunt nails scratching lightly over Bunta's stomach and sliding lower by the second. Horny? Yeah. Drunk or not his friend was hot and if he had it his way he'd be getting off at some point, somehow.
“Not always,” Bunta disagreed, as he writhed beneath the hand tantalizing his stomach. He couldn’t believe they were having this conversation, especially when it felt like Akaya was doing his best to get closer and closer to a very pressing need that couldn’t be hidden, even in the dark. For that matter, he couldn’t believe just what he was doing there in that closet when he should have been running in the opposite direction.
"Most of the time." Came a slurred response as one hand slid lower, palm rubbing lightly at a rather obvious (once felt, anyway) bulge in Bunta's pants. Oh ho~? Akaya nipped at the other's neck before his head lifted slightly, kisses trailing over Bunta's neck and cheek in search of a pair of soft lips. "Less he's got ya in his bed." He murmured against Bunta's mouth, as he pressed closer.
He really wanted to contradict his friend, mainly because that had always been the way the games was played, but this time Akaya was correct. And that normally would have been enough to make the tiny redheaded spitfire blow his top, but there was those fleeting kisses ghosting over his neck, and soft lips that sought his own, which meant he barely managed to gasp for breath before it was stolen sneakily. However, it didn’t stop the sudden shock in wide eyes when a hand brushed over his length, nor did it prevent a low moan from vibrating in his chest.
“I’ve,” he whispered, distracted by the sensation that seduced his body into arching, hips lifting to rub against his companion’s palm. “Fond memories of his bed.” But it wasn’t Niou’s bed Bunta wanted to be in right that moment, nor was it his lovemaking the young man craved when he shifted forward, actively seeking to close the remaining distance between them.
A smirk curled over Akaya's lips (not that Bunta could see it) and teeth clamped down lightly on Bunta's lower lip, pulling slightly before dipping his head to press a kiss full on the other's mouth. Fingers continued to rub before clumsily sliding up to the older man's waistband, fumbling for the zip blindly and tugging on it when fingers finally found cool metal. "Got plenty myself." He purred, tongue flicking out along Bunta's lip. Haru may have been good in the sack but it wasn't Haru who currently drew him in like a moth to a flame.
Bunta stiffened, brain suddenly bombarded by a dozen images he could have done without, especially when an emotion close to jealousy reared its head. “Hmm.” He all but purred, instinctively reacting to the fingers that grazed his stomach ever so lightly in the process of fumbling for his zipper, and dragging it down. “Ya think,” came a hesitant probing while he hungrily lapped at the tongue anointing his bottom lip with tender strokes. “We can not talk about Haru right now?”
"Un." Somewhere in a foggy mind his conscious told him maybe it was a bad idea to talk about the last person one had had sex with with the one one planned on getting in the sack at some point. Akaya nipped at the older man's tongue, hand sliding between layers of cloth eagerly and fingers teasing over rigid flesh.
"Un." Somewhere in a foggy mind his conscious told him maybe it was a bad idea to talk about the last person one had had sex with with the one one planned on getting in the sack at some point. Akaya nipped at the older man's tongue, hand sliding between layers of cloth eagerly and fingers teasing over rigid flesh.
A keening moan slipped from mouth to mouth, words trembling and tripping off his tongue when light fingers danced over velvet warmth. “Akaya, please!” Bunta wasn’t sure where that bite of jealousy came from, and he knew it was best not to show how annoyed it made him to know, without a doubt, that this man spent time in Niou’s bed, and probably would again. But that was not something he wanted to dwell on with that hand so close that all he had to do was shift his hips forward, thrusting against the heat that tempted him.
"What." His voice was low, a quiet growl rumbling in his chest when his chin tilted and tongue pushed into Bunta's mouth. His hand paused as he shifted, pressing closer to the smaller man and letting his free hand slide up along a bared chest.
Bunta wasn’t prepared for Akaya to display signs of being an asshole, not in their current situation. But when the reply came, all but stating he’d have to spell it out word for word, he got a huge clue, and it was enough to make him growl in frustration. “Don’t play games with me.” He snarled, antsy with an inability to withdraw from his current state of being. It was too late to throw up barriers, to pretend he was focused on anything else but where that hand was, and what it promised with just a light brush of fingers over a straining erection.
"But I wanna." The words came out on a slight whine and his head dropped to nuzzle along Bunta's neck as his hand worked to tug the length free of restraining fabric. Maybe he should be good, not taunt or tease as he usually did or would. Tongue flicked along skin when he slid down, nipping over Bunta's chest and stomach as he slid to his knees. Wobbling slightly his free hand clutched at the other man's thigh, lapping at the slight jut of a hipbone before Akaya's head ducked to pull the tip of Bunta's erection into his mouth. He hadn't done this in a while but it wasn't exactly one of those things that got worse with lack of practice.
“Not now. Later. Another ti…” Bunta conceded, words screeching to a halt when a blindingly wet, hot heat closed over him. Trembling hands immediately dropped to a head of wild curls, desperately entwining lean fingers in the strands he chose to use as his tether to reality. His time with Niou, as enlightening as it was, hadn’t prepared him for what it would actually be like to be pleasured by that mouth. The difference in his emotions then, and what he felt now set off a domino effect in the young man who stumbled back against the wall, just a few inches in search of something to support him, because he swore his legs wouldn’t do the job.
Well that certainly seemed to be a way of getting Bunta to shut up that didn't involve occupying his mouth. Tongue slid slowly over the tip as lips closed around the length, sucking lightly. With nary a care to consequences Akaya's fingers curled around the other's erection, stroking firmly while his mouth concentrated on the last few inches. With any good luck Haru would stay the hell away for a while and Bunta would say exactly what he wanted to hear.
Soft sounds escaped him, rising in volume with each stroke of hand over his length, and the more that mouth worked along his hardness, the more he struggled against allowing words to escape him. But the battle Bunta valiantly fought was lost the minute he focused slitted eyes on the man at his feet, shadowed and nothing more than a blending of darkness with darkness. “More!” he husked, voice trembling with need as insistent fingers tightened in inky strands.
...tbc because lj is a whore.