Party Time
Pairing: Jin/?, implied Akame
Rating: Almost R
Disclaimer: If I had a say, they would have all-region DVDs. :/ Just sayin'.
Summary: Sometimes, Jin needs a bit of freedom. A bit of clubbing, anonymous sex freedom.
Author's Notes: For luciene, as... demanded, I suppose. XD There's no word for how she gets me to write these things?! Inspired by "LOVEJUICE."
Thanks to Hilzypoo and soundistrict for... encouragement. ;D
Jin strolls into the club with a spring in his step, every stride in rhythm with the beat that thuds through the floor boards.
This is a good night. He can feel it in his bones: this is his night.
He sticks his hands in the pockets of his fitted plaid trousers, black suspenders dangling against his legs, the silver buckles glinting under the occasional strobe light. His classic white dress shirt is a stark contrast against the dark atmosphere, casually unbuttoned to show off a glimpse of chest and collarbone under the loosened red tie, sleeves rolled up to the elbow for the heat. Jin takes a measured glance around the crowded room from under the brim of his fedora and smirks to himself.
Looks like there's going to be some good hunting.
He leans easily against the counter, waiting for the bartender's attention, when something sparkles at the corner of his eye, and then he turns to see… her. Him. He's not quite sure, but (s)he is way too gorgeous to be called an "it." The androgynous beauty catches him staring and smiles back flirtatiously around the straw in his (her?) mouth.
The wandering light passes over a bare shoulder, shimmering off the glitter dust mysterious for a moment before moving on again. (S)he glances up again, kohl-lined eyes smoldering at him, and Jin grins back toothily.
He's always up for a challenge.
When the bartender finally gets back with his vodka, he sidles along the bar until he's staring down at this pretty little thing in her (his?) off-the-shoulder shirt-a gloriously loud fuchsia with silver detailing-and tight, tight jeans.
Maybe it's a girl. No guy would ever be able to fit into those.
"Hey," he says simply. "What're you up to?"
"I'm standing in a club," she replies archly in a surprisingly husky voice. Hmm. A boy, then? "What do you think I'm up to?"
Jin chuckles. It doesn't matter to him either way. "Care to dance?"
He smiles at Jin, sultry without even trying, already heading for the writhing mass of bodies before Jin can finish his sentence. "Is there anything else to do here?"
Jin raises his eyebrows. He can think of a couple of things, all dirty and inappropriate and generally relegated to the rest rooms at the back of the club, and from the look on his companion's face, he'd been thinking of them, too, even as he'd made that comment.
Fucking tease.
The song that's playing is some new hot-off-the-press hit that he's never heard before, but the beat is easy enough to follow, and it's mindlessly catchy in the way that most pop songs are. He sinks into the pulse pounding through the tightly packed room, hips swaying and hands landing securely on the curve of his partner's waist (girl?). She throws her arms around his shoulders, and immediately, they're moving together like it's fate or something, different but strangely familiar at the same time.
When something warmer, with a tang of Latin starts up next, she raises an eyebrow at him. "Do you know how to salsa?"
"Sure," he replies, twirling her out skillfully. She executes a lazy but flawless spin on low-heeled boots-damn it, that could mean both.
He tries to look at her properly, catches flashes of a crooked nose, a thin but pouty mouth. Thin, perfect eyebrows and high, sculpted cheekbones. But most of all, those eyes, sharp and smoldering like emeralds in the light.
They keep dancing like that, song after song after song, movements matched to a fault. Every roll of the hips is smooth, synched, less of the usual clumsy bump and grind and infinitely sexier. The smirk never leaves her face, although it sometimes widens into a delicious little grin.
It is possibly the hottest thing Jin has ever seen.
"Want to get out of here?" he finally asks breathlessly. It is high time for him to figure out exactly what his companion is packing.
"Yes," the kid gasps, hissing out the "s" against Jin's mouth. "Your place or mine?"
Jin smiles. "Mine."
* * *
"So I have this problem," Jin murmurs in the elevator, his lover for the night trapped against a back corner.
The kid stares up at him, bold and unintimidated. "Oh, yeah?"
It's kind of ridiculous how pretty (s)he is, especially now that Jin's gotten a good look at him (her). He'd thought the light would help, but it doesn't at all, just makes the mess of contradictions in his arms even more confusing. Flat chest, but that girlish cant of the hip; broad shoulders, but that sinuous curve of the spine, just the right fit between his warm palms and the cool metal.
Jin licks his lips. "Yeah. I can't figure out what you are."
He's a direct kind of guy, after all.
(S)He lights up with a surprised burst of laughter. "You've been dancing with me for two hours, and you don't even know if I'm a boy or girl?" his companion drawls, obviously amused. "How offensive. I should ditch you just on principle."
The elevator doors open right on cue, and Jin chuckles. "Too late."
Her (his) eyes sparkle. "Hmm. Guess you'll just have to find out firsthand, then."
* * *
She kisses like she dances, heavy and hard, tongue lingering for tentative, savoring licks. Jin pulls her toward the bedroom, slender wrist gripped in one hand, the other dumping his hat unceremoniously onto the floor.
Undressing is a hurried, confusing ordeal, buttons and buckles and elastic being tugged and pulled any way they'll go. The fuchsia shirt disappears to reveal no sign of breasts-a boy, then. Just when he'd decided it was a girl, too.
Jin's slightly disappointed with himself. His instincts are usually better than this.
The impossible jeans take awhile, but they eventually come off, as well, and Jin is immediately faced with some very, very indicative anatomy.
Nope. Definitely not a girl.
Although the lack of underwear does explain how he got the jeans on in the first place.
Boy smirks at him, legs splayed wide open and leaving nothing to the imagination. "Any more questions?"
* * *
The kid is sprawled across thei-his. His sheets. The kid has spread himself across Jin's sheets like some kind of fucking feast, thin enough that he'd be gangly if he didn't look so comfortable with his own body. His expression is indolent and inviting, all hooded eyes and pouty red lips, as if he weren't lying on a complete stranger's bed, as if this is where he absolutely belongs.
Jin's not about to disagree.
He crawls onto the bed over the night's conquest, knotting his fingers in dark, luxurious hair, like silk against his skin. Boy arcs into his touch, back a perfect bow and smile infuriatingly smug.
It disappears quickly enough when Jin takes his sweet time exploring that gloriously toned body. Boy writhes under Jin's ministrations: light kisses that are soft and chaste, hands stroking gently along the line of his hips, caresses shockingly non-invasive for what they are.
He sighs and moans becomingly, squirming and straining against Jin in all the right ways, trying to urge him faster faster fasterdamnit-
But this is Jin's house, Jin's bed, and he's in control here, he thinks as he pins the kid into the mattress. Boy whines for some kind of relief, but Jin refuses to give it to him, because he is feeling a little bit cruel tonight.
"Don't stop," Boy pants helplessly when Jin licks a slow stripe up his smooth, tender thigh. "Don't…"
Jin stops and lifts his head, lips quirking as Boy cries out in frustration.
Good. He's in the mood for tears.
"I'm sorry, I didn't quite catch that," he says mildly, raising an amused eyebrow at the kid's mutinous look and nibbling obligingly at his collarbone.
Boy groans. "I hate you."
Jin laughs, the sound low enough to rumble through flesh and bone. "No, you don't," he muses before returning to the task at hand. "Liar."
* * *
The digital clock stares out of its 11:55 eyes, glaring red into the muffled darkness.
Jin gives it a cursory glance, tenses when he sees the time. It's getting late.
But then Boy rolls his hips, and Jin stops thinking altogether. "Pay attention," Boy chides softly, gaze shuttered and slutty behind smeared liner and dark, mascaraed lashes. "It's impolite to check the time while you're with someone, you know."
Jin laughs, charmed despite himself. "Oh, don't worry. It's not you." He leans up, breathes in sex and musk and fruity cologne. "It's not you at all."
He catches soft rose petal lips with his own, takes a moment to appreciate the long expanse of lean, muscled back under his fingertips, the unbroken line of skin lit by streetlight. Jin curls his fingers into the ends of Boy's hair; Boy sits still and lets him, smiles back at him like a long lost love instead of a one night stand. From this angle, he kind of looks like-
The clock ticks to 11:56.
"Four minutes to midnight," Jin whispers into the kid's neck.
"You'd better hurry, then," Boy says, eyes gleaming liquid in the dark. "We're running out of time."
* * *
When it's over, Boy rolls off the side with a thump and wraps himself in the blanket. Jin finds this show of modesty strange-really, after all that-but he doesn't say anything. Some people are particular about these things.
The kid wanders towards the door, presumably in search of the bathroom. But then he stops, picks a picture frame off the dresser, and turns to Jin, raising an eyebrow. "Boyfriend?"
Jin freezes, then bites his lip. It's the one he took with Kame on their trip to Hawaii last year. They look happy, ecstatic, Jin's cheek pressed closely against Kame's hair, Kame's smile bright and cheerful, peace sign waving for the camera.
He looks away. Not like it matters. "Not for tonight."
Boy makes a face, apparently unbothered by the revelation, and peers at the picture, more curious than horrified. "…Kind of looks like me, don't you think?"
Jin hesitates, emotions roiling.
But then the kid-no, not "the kid," Kame, that bastard-waggles his eyebrows, and he can't take it anymore. Jin bursts out laughing and can't stop, buries his face into the pillows at Kame's indignant expression.
"Oh, my god, I hate you," he gasps, rolling in the sheets to escape the half-hearted swats. "That was awful! It's totally cheating!"
Kame grins back at him and drops the blanket, crawling back into bed. "It's not my fault that you're so bad at this."
"That was mean!" Jin argues. "If I knew you were going to play dirty, I would've ended it a long time ago."
"Not my fault you're too nice," Kame sings in his ear, giggling helplessly as Jin reaches out to drag him down with one arm.
"Next year," he growls mock angrily. "Next year, I'm going to get you."
Kame laughs again. "You mean you're going to try," he says, but he's already curled against Jin's side, head on his shoulder and arm thrown possessively around his waist. His expression is smug and satisfied, and in any other situation, Jin would want to punch him, but this time, it makes him feel kind of giddy.
"Happy anniversary," he murmurs into Kame's hair.
He sighs when Kame snuggles closer. This is one game he doesn't mind losing at all.
XD XD XD How was the surprise ending?! Rise-chan told people I would asked me to write a crack version of " Truth Is Stranger Than Fiction," so. You know. I did. :P [so easy]
This is actually like a month late or something, but I hope you don't mind, PINcushion. ♥ ♥ ♥
Rating: Almost R
Disclaimer: If I had a say, they would have all-region DVDs. :/ Just sayin'.
Summary: Sometimes, Jin needs a bit of freedom. A bit of clubbing, anonymous sex freedom.
Author's Notes: For luciene, as... demanded, I suppose. XD There's no word for how she gets me to write these things?! Inspired by "LOVEJUICE."
Thanks to Hilzypoo and soundistrict for... encouragement. ;D
Jin strolls into the club with a spring in his step, every stride in rhythm with the beat that thuds through the floor boards.
This is a good night. He can feel it in his bones: this is his night.
He sticks his hands in the pockets of his fitted plaid trousers, black suspenders dangling against his legs, the silver buckles glinting under the occasional strobe light. His classic white dress shirt is a stark contrast against the dark atmosphere, casually unbuttoned to show off a glimpse of chest and collarbone under the loosened red tie, sleeves rolled up to the elbow for the heat. Jin takes a measured glance around the crowded room from under the brim of his fedora and smirks to himself.
Looks like there's going to be some good hunting.
He leans easily against the counter, waiting for the bartender's attention, when something sparkles at the corner of his eye, and then he turns to see… her. Him. He's not quite sure, but (s)he is way too gorgeous to be called an "it." The androgynous beauty catches him staring and smiles back flirtatiously around the straw in his (her?) mouth.
The wandering light passes over a bare shoulder, shimmering off the glitter dust mysterious for a moment before moving on again. (S)he glances up again, kohl-lined eyes smoldering at him, and Jin grins back toothily.
He's always up for a challenge.
When the bartender finally gets back with his vodka, he sidles along the bar until he's staring down at this pretty little thing in her (his?) off-the-shoulder shirt-a gloriously loud fuchsia with silver detailing-and tight, tight jeans.
Maybe it's a girl. No guy would ever be able to fit into those.
"Hey," he says simply. "What're you up to?"
"I'm standing in a club," she replies archly in a surprisingly husky voice. Hmm. A boy, then? "What do you think I'm up to?"
Jin chuckles. It doesn't matter to him either way. "Care to dance?"
He smiles at Jin, sultry without even trying, already heading for the writhing mass of bodies before Jin can finish his sentence. "Is there anything else to do here?"
Jin raises his eyebrows. He can think of a couple of things, all dirty and inappropriate and generally relegated to the rest rooms at the back of the club, and from the look on his companion's face, he'd been thinking of them, too, even as he'd made that comment.
Fucking tease.
The song that's playing is some new hot-off-the-press hit that he's never heard before, but the beat is easy enough to follow, and it's mindlessly catchy in the way that most pop songs are. He sinks into the pulse pounding through the tightly packed room, hips swaying and hands landing securely on the curve of his partner's waist (girl?). She throws her arms around his shoulders, and immediately, they're moving together like it's fate or something, different but strangely familiar at the same time.
When something warmer, with a tang of Latin starts up next, she raises an eyebrow at him. "Do you know how to salsa?"
"Sure," he replies, twirling her out skillfully. She executes a lazy but flawless spin on low-heeled boots-damn it, that could mean both.
He tries to look at her properly, catches flashes of a crooked nose, a thin but pouty mouth. Thin, perfect eyebrows and high, sculpted cheekbones. But most of all, those eyes, sharp and smoldering like emeralds in the light.
They keep dancing like that, song after song after song, movements matched to a fault. Every roll of the hips is smooth, synched, less of the usual clumsy bump and grind and infinitely sexier. The smirk never leaves her face, although it sometimes widens into a delicious little grin.
It is possibly the hottest thing Jin has ever seen.
"Want to get out of here?" he finally asks breathlessly. It is high time for him to figure out exactly what his companion is packing.
"Yes," the kid gasps, hissing out the "s" against Jin's mouth. "Your place or mine?"
Jin smiles. "Mine."
* * *
"So I have this problem," Jin murmurs in the elevator, his lover for the night trapped against a back corner.
The kid stares up at him, bold and unintimidated. "Oh, yeah?"
It's kind of ridiculous how pretty (s)he is, especially now that Jin's gotten a good look at him (her). He'd thought the light would help, but it doesn't at all, just makes the mess of contradictions in his arms even more confusing. Flat chest, but that girlish cant of the hip; broad shoulders, but that sinuous curve of the spine, just the right fit between his warm palms and the cool metal.
Jin licks his lips. "Yeah. I can't figure out what you are."
He's a direct kind of guy, after all.
(S)He lights up with a surprised burst of laughter. "You've been dancing with me for two hours, and you don't even know if I'm a boy or girl?" his companion drawls, obviously amused. "How offensive. I should ditch you just on principle."
The elevator doors open right on cue, and Jin chuckles. "Too late."
Her (his) eyes sparkle. "Hmm. Guess you'll just have to find out firsthand, then."
* * *
She kisses like she dances, heavy and hard, tongue lingering for tentative, savoring licks. Jin pulls her toward the bedroom, slender wrist gripped in one hand, the other dumping his hat unceremoniously onto the floor.
Undressing is a hurried, confusing ordeal, buttons and buckles and elastic being tugged and pulled any way they'll go. The fuchsia shirt disappears to reveal no sign of breasts-a boy, then. Just when he'd decided it was a girl, too.
Jin's slightly disappointed with himself. His instincts are usually better than this.
The impossible jeans take awhile, but they eventually come off, as well, and Jin is immediately faced with some very, very indicative anatomy.
Nope. Definitely not a girl.
Although the lack of underwear does explain how he got the jeans on in the first place.
Boy smirks at him, legs splayed wide open and leaving nothing to the imagination. "Any more questions?"
* * *
The kid is sprawled across thei-his. His sheets. The kid has spread himself across Jin's sheets like some kind of fucking feast, thin enough that he'd be gangly if he didn't look so comfortable with his own body. His expression is indolent and inviting, all hooded eyes and pouty red lips, as if he weren't lying on a complete stranger's bed, as if this is where he absolutely belongs.
Jin's not about to disagree.
He crawls onto the bed over the night's conquest, knotting his fingers in dark, luxurious hair, like silk against his skin. Boy arcs into his touch, back a perfect bow and smile infuriatingly smug.
It disappears quickly enough when Jin takes his sweet time exploring that gloriously toned body. Boy writhes under Jin's ministrations: light kisses that are soft and chaste, hands stroking gently along the line of his hips, caresses shockingly non-invasive for what they are.
He sighs and moans becomingly, squirming and straining against Jin in all the right ways, trying to urge him faster faster fasterdamnit-
But this is Jin's house, Jin's bed, and he's in control here, he thinks as he pins the kid into the mattress. Boy whines for some kind of relief, but Jin refuses to give it to him, because he is feeling a little bit cruel tonight.
"Don't stop," Boy pants helplessly when Jin licks a slow stripe up his smooth, tender thigh. "Don't…"
Jin stops and lifts his head, lips quirking as Boy cries out in frustration.
Good. He's in the mood for tears.
"I'm sorry, I didn't quite catch that," he says mildly, raising an amused eyebrow at the kid's mutinous look and nibbling obligingly at his collarbone.
Boy groans. "I hate you."
Jin laughs, the sound low enough to rumble through flesh and bone. "No, you don't," he muses before returning to the task at hand. "Liar."
* * *
The digital clock stares out of its 11:55 eyes, glaring red into the muffled darkness.
Jin gives it a cursory glance, tenses when he sees the time. It's getting late.
But then Boy rolls his hips, and Jin stops thinking altogether. "Pay attention," Boy chides softly, gaze shuttered and slutty behind smeared liner and dark, mascaraed lashes. "It's impolite to check the time while you're with someone, you know."
Jin laughs, charmed despite himself. "Oh, don't worry. It's not you." He leans up, breathes in sex and musk and fruity cologne. "It's not you at all."
He catches soft rose petal lips with his own, takes a moment to appreciate the long expanse of lean, muscled back under his fingertips, the unbroken line of skin lit by streetlight. Jin curls his fingers into the ends of Boy's hair; Boy sits still and lets him, smiles back at him like a long lost love instead of a one night stand. From this angle, he kind of looks like-
The clock ticks to 11:56.
"Four minutes to midnight," Jin whispers into the kid's neck.
"You'd better hurry, then," Boy says, eyes gleaming liquid in the dark. "We're running out of time."
* * *
When it's over, Boy rolls off the side with a thump and wraps himself in the blanket. Jin finds this show of modesty strange-really, after all that-but he doesn't say anything. Some people are particular about these things.
The kid wanders towards the door, presumably in search of the bathroom. But then he stops, picks a picture frame off the dresser, and turns to Jin, raising an eyebrow. "Boyfriend?"
Jin freezes, then bites his lip. It's the one he took with Kame on their trip to Hawaii last year. They look happy, ecstatic, Jin's cheek pressed closely against Kame's hair, Kame's smile bright and cheerful, peace sign waving for the camera.
He looks away. Not like it matters. "Not for tonight."
Boy makes a face, apparently unbothered by the revelation, and peers at the picture, more curious than horrified. "…Kind of looks like me, don't you think?"
Jin hesitates, emotions roiling.
But then the kid-no, not "the kid," Kame, that bastard-waggles his eyebrows, and he can't take it anymore. Jin bursts out laughing and can't stop, buries his face into the pillows at Kame's indignant expression.
"Oh, my god, I hate you," he gasps, rolling in the sheets to escape the half-hearted swats. "That was awful! It's totally cheating!"
Kame grins back at him and drops the blanket, crawling back into bed. "It's not my fault that you're so bad at this."
"That was mean!" Jin argues. "If I knew you were going to play dirty, I would've ended it a long time ago."
"Not my fault you're too nice," Kame sings in his ear, giggling helplessly as Jin reaches out to drag him down with one arm.
"Next year," he growls mock angrily. "Next year, I'm going to get you."
Kame laughs again. "You mean you're going to try," he says, but he's already curled against Jin's side, head on his shoulder and arm thrown possessively around his waist. His expression is smug and satisfied, and in any other situation, Jin would want to punch him, but this time, it makes him feel kind of giddy.
"Happy anniversary," he murmurs into Kame's hair.
He sighs when Kame snuggles closer. This is one game he doesn't mind losing at all.
XD XD XD How was the surprise ending?! Rise-chan told people I would asked me to write a crack version of " Truth Is Stranger Than Fiction," so. You know. I did. :P [so easy]
This is actually like a month late or something, but I hope you don't mind, PINcushion. ♥ ♥ ♥