Perversity from your Dark-Eyed Wanderer.
Kaito chose the time: early afternoon, when neither of them had classes (and the high schools did, Kurama noted with relief); and the place: a neighborhood near Meiou (not as appreciated by Kurama). When they entered Kurama moved discreetly but quickly toward the back. He got to choose the game that they’d play their game on.
With Kaito’s approval, that is, and he vetoed the first two candidates, racing games with riding controls that the player sat in. After the second nay-say, he eyed a machine beside the newer rejection. “What about that one?” he suggested. Its seat the player had to straddle.
That was his criterium; they’d discussed that already. Kurama looked it over, looked around, and said, “And that one?” Similar make, further away from the aisle, close to the restrooms. Kaito gave his consent, and went to get tokens, showing the redhead the amount he intended to convert before leaving. Kurama heaved a little sigh-nerves, anticipation-and took a seat.
When Kaito returned Shuichi was properly situated and waiting. “You’re going to get hot with your coat on,” he remarked. Shuichi unbuttoned it but kept it on. Fine; Kaito just reached over and pulled it further open on either side before proceeding. “Ready?” he checked. Shuichi nodded. “Ready?” he repeated.
“Yes,” Shuichi consented. Kaito dropped the first token in.
The lights flashed.
The game began.
The seat began to vibrate.
Shuichi took a breath and began to maneuver on the screen. Kaito stood back, watching Shuichi play, feeding tokens into the slot every now and then. Watching Shuichi’s face grow pink as time progressed; Kaito had warned him about the coat. He stooped down and pulled it back again, so that it fell against the outside of the redhead’s thighs.
Exposing the bulge accumulating between the inside of his thighs. With a look of the subtlest amusement Kaito would feed another token into the machine, and then another, watching the savory look on Shuichi’s face as he did. Dreaded pleasure or pleasured dread?
The demon incognito began, to his own chagrin to be sure, to go through the ensanguined value scale, and as his flesh deepened Kaito wondered if it was possible to achieve a match between the face and its luxuriant frame. If nothing else Shuichi’s lips appeared to be progressing promisingly, where he’d taken to trying to lay his teeth to rest in them, an attempt at some relief that surely had not yet come.
Finally: “Enough,” Shuichi said quietly to him. In order to speak he’d taken the teeth out of his lip, and was panting lightly. Kaito considered his blushed face, shining dilated green eyes, his chest rising and falling noticeably. And fed another token into the machine.
Now an audible groan, textured by the vibrations of the seat the groaner was straddled on. “Kaito…” he attempted, swallowing, licking his lips, swallowing. On the screen his vehicle was crashing in quick repetition, bringing swifter GAME OVER and another token from Kaito’s hand to the machine’s slot, and another betrayal of frustration that Shuichi could no longer suppress so well. “Please,” he tried, shifting into a bent-over position. Gently Kaito reached over and righted him into the proper, reclined, susceptible position, and fed another token in.
“I can’t keep up with you,” Shuichi panted.
GAME OVER. “I’m out of tokens anyway,” he agreed nonchalantly. As the seat stilled Shuichi’s breath actually became more audible and his frame stiff. “Do you need assistance?” he inquired. Instead of affirming or negating Shuichi simply, slowly got up, adjusting his coat around him as he did, and walked with steady purpose toward the restroom. Kaito followed, a quick scan of their surroundings promising that chances of interruption were virtually nil.
Nonetheless, just to take precautions he stood an equal distance from the door and the stall Shuichi had retreated to, its door held open by one of his hands, Shuichi’s coat surrendered and hanging from his other. The redhead meanwhile had, slowly at first but progressively with less care, undone his belt and relieved the builge beneath of its textile trappings. That was a formidable rival to the shade on his classmate’s other head, Kaito thought as he watched.
Unsurprisingly Shuichi worked himself with a certain fluency that anyone who’d interacted with him would expect (of normal procedure-Kaito didn’t think that the typical Minamino fans, crushes, stalkers et cetera attempted conversation that intimate). Even the vulpine legend was some form of pent-up energy at one point. Kaito watched as Shuichi employed little movements and made little sounds, and thought that if ever there were a way, it would be Shuichi who could make pornography a matter of melody and dance. Piano, mezzoforte, crescendo…
Climax. “A-Ah!” Shuichi muffled himself beautifully, moving swiftly but gracefully into decrescendo. When he rested back against the toilet tank Kaito almost moved to make the conductor’s finito sign with his arm. Maybe he should have applauded as the audience instead, but doing so would have slammed the stall door on the now dazed-looking performer.
It’d probably be cruel to play a game like this with him at a play or opera, though. Maybe he could go over a scene in his head some night. “Do you need any help?” he asked as Shuichi stood.
“I’m fine,” replied the redhead, pulling up, belting his pants and flushing the toilet. He washed his hands at the sink, then splashed his face and padded it dry. His complexion was still pink, but the blood on the surface was receding. Turning sated-looking eyes on Kaito now, he shrugged his shoulders a little and murmured, “Shall we?”
“How does lunch sound?” Kaito replied. The arcade’s spectacle made him want to devour something.
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I'm not sure why I came up with the bit about musical notation in the arcade setting; I may pitch that and consider it for placing elsewhere later on...