Something That Doesn't Hurt (Persona 3, Shinjiro/Junpei)
Title: Something That Doesn't Hurt
Author: Emerald Embers
Rating: NC17
Warnings: Yaoi, violent references and bad language.
Pairings: Shinjiro/Junpei, references to Shinjiro/Akihiko.
Wordcount: 1854
Prompt: November 1st - Persona 3: Shinjiro/Junpei; back alleys - "It's packed at 2AM, I've got no coat/Are you on your own?/I'm into you/When are you going home?/Get into me"
Shinjiro's pissed. Not like there's anything unusual about that - it isn't as if he's ever had a particularly long fuse - but he'd thought he was over the worst of the cramps until they returned with a vengeance and left them here, leaning heavily against the cubicle's wall, staring into the bowl with dull fascination before wiping his mouth off with a tissue and flushing the whole mess away. That's another few ounces of blood gone; he's kind of relieved that withdrawal from the pills might kill him. Will kill him, actually. Being on them's been miserable, coming off them worse, but at least he knows it's not something permanent.
Still, he's pissed that the cramps have been ruining what had until now been a decent night of lazing in this shithole of a nightclub's booth, nursing a trio of bottles and avoiding Akihiko's questions. Doesn't matter that half of them go unasked, they're written all over his face, and Shinjiro really isn't in the mood for them.
He's a stubborn bastard though when it comes down to it and cramps or no cramps he's still determined to protect his booth from invasion, settles back down and takes his time with the third beer; almost blanks out the familiar voice nearby until the all too recognisable cap-and-goatee combination passes by, oblivious to him even if he can't return the favour.
Damnit, he'd picked this club deliberately because he didn't bump into people he knew here; then again, that had probably been Junpei's logic in choosing the venue too.
Normally he wouldn't bother picking on anyone like this, but he can't resist the temptation today; stalking up behind Junpei is easy, and he grunts "You don't look legal to me", making full use of his height advantage to look intimidating. Much to his annoyance Junpei doesn't jump as much as he'd hoped - probably a side-effect of spending so much time in Tartarus. Energy burnt off and the reaction to shock dampened.
Still, at least Junpei has the decency to look startled. "Shinjiro! Senpai! Er, I - wow, uh -" Shinjiro resists the urge to smirk, enjoying the guy's panic and waiting for him to click that he's not actually in trouble, and he's not sure if Junpei actually stops to breathe while hitting his moment of realisation, the run-on rambling ending with "And, uh, yeah, that's why I'm here, do you come here often?"
Shinjiro can't resist snorting at that, takes another swig of the beer and swilling it for a moment to get the copper taste out of his mouth, more out of habit than distaste for it. "None of your fucking business," He says with a quick grin, figuring that Junpei's worked out by now not to take anything any of his seniors say at face value, before he figures he should head back to the booth he's staked out; the cramps aren't bringing anything up anymore but they still hurt and he can't entirely control the sweat pouring off him, although at least in the humid atmosphere of the club there's nothing too unusual in that.
"You okay?" Junpei asks as he's about to turn and head back; he considers ignoring the question before deciding the guy at least deserves a response.
"It's called being drunk," Shinjiro lies, hoping Junpei's inexperience with alcohol will make him overlook a few of the little details like the fact his eyes are still pretty damn sharp and his sweat a cold one. It's easier than explaining away uncomfortable truths like, oh, yeah, he's pretty much going to die within another year or two.
"Grab me if you need anything, right?" Junpei asks before heading back deeper into the crowd on the dancefloor; the lack of a backwards glance allows Shinjiro to let out a breath he hadn't known he was holding, relax a little, and consider actually enjoying his drink instead of treating it as a necessity.
Nice having someone acknowledge him without being clingy for once, and he returns the favour by nodding to Junpei whenever he passes by waving enthusiastically; makes a mental note to chew him out for the appalling taste in drinks at some point if he can be bothered.
Cramps are a bitch, but there's a strange calm and sense of peace and quiet inside the booth despite the crowd and the pounding noise of what the club calls music; Shinjiro prefers anonymity to loneliness given the chance, and this'll do nicely.
It's two in the morning and Junpei is dripping in sweat and spilt drinks when he comes over but he's steady on his feet regardless, grinning wide and wiping his hands off on his pants before extending them to Shinjiro to help him up; there's an already fading scrawl of someone's number on his palm and Shinjiro almost smirks at that as he stands, straightening out his coat and realising Junpei's not brought one of his own. Idiot, he's going to catch a bastard of a cold that way if he isn't careful.
They're leaving and after protesting several times that he doesn't need any help he still finds himself stumbling and righting himself using Junpei as a convienient crutch when one of the cramps hit hard, resting his weight on the arm he slings around the kid's shoulders until he feels comfortable inside his own skin again. Short of wrapping an ugly tie around his head as a bandana he couldn't look much more like the stereotype of a drunkard, but he's careful to take deep breaths because the last thing he needs is to puke blood again where he can't flush away the evidence. It's cold outside and the fresh air helps a little, steadying him and making the idea of heading back to the dorm seem less horrific. Junpei's mostly quiet but occasionally pipes up with some random speech about homework or other random shit Shinjiro really doesn't need to know about. It's comforting anyway.
He's leaning more than he should, and there's one of those long moments when reality sinks in; where the air feels heavy and he's looking at Junpei's lips, and not so much thinking about kissing them as thinking about reasons not to.
"Shinjiro?" The extra syllable reminds him that he's not with Aki, not even with someone like Aki, he's with Junpei, the goofball with one hell of a swing and... hm. There was something in that open expression more understanding than he'd thought to give the guy credit for.
"I'd just fuck you over, kid. 'M not the dating type," he says, making sure what he thinks he's seeing here is right.
"I'm not asking for a date," Junpei replies, his breath hitching for a second and as Shinjiro watches the kid's throat swallowing he realises what a fucking predator he is these days.
Not here in the open, though. And certainly not back at the dorms.
Junpei makes a muffled sort of squeak before coughing to try and disguise it, gets stunned silent for a moment when Shinjiro drags him sharply away from the crowd into an alley. It stinks of restaurant leftovers and he's sure the bins are rustling because of something nastier than cats but there's enough late night activity around here for the steam vents to still blow warm. That's good enough for him and it looks like it's good enough for Junpei too; pity Aki never took to this sort of thing but Shinjiro shuts up the brief surge of guilt-disgust-shame by shoving his tongue down Junpei's throat and opening his flies. It's not a hint so much as a demand but Junpei takes it, pulling back slightly from the kiss - no surprise there, it had been an attack more than a display of affection - and tugs at Shinjiro's zipper. Good that he skipped the other layers, Shinjiro's sick of pointing out the fucking obvious to people who don't grasp that the coat's there for cover.
"I can -" Junpei begins and Shinjiro doesn't give the words enough room to decide if they're a statement or question, cuts in with his hand on Junpei's cock and the same shit-eating grin that used to get Aki hard in a second.
"You'd better," He says, almost amused by how hard Junpei is already; he remembers being like that, jerking off twice a day, sometimes more so he wouldn't end up with a tent in his trousers whenever a hot girl bent over or, worse, Aki sat next to him after boxing, bare thighs inches from Shinjiro's own, oblivious fucking cocktease.
The mental image helps but better still are Junpei's hands once he's got a literal handle on things; the guy's hands are hot, sweaty, frantic like the rest of him; he's got a need to please Shinjiro could eat up and an over-expressive face, nothing hidden. Junpei's wide open, no bullshit silences or attempts to play cool, and it's infectious; Shinjiro can't resist muttering obscenities into Junpei's ear, urging him on, and the coat's cover wouldn't matter at all because someone would have to be blind and deaf to miss what they're doing.
Junpei grits his teeth before tensing and Shinjiro halts, nudges him to turn around because he's not getting the guy's come over his top; quick as ever Junpei gets the hint although Shinjiro could smack him for crying out as he comes on the wall. Just another stain to go unnoticed, and Shinjiro finishes himself off.
Junpei looks a little put out by that, but hey, it's not Shinjiro's fault that the guy braced himself against the wall as he came; no hands that have touched that wall are going near his cock without getting washed. Besides, it feels like the best sort of dirty-bad-wrong to be jerking off with Junpei's come slicking his hands.
"Don't go mouthing off about that to everyone," Shinjiro says after, but he expects that much goes without saying; has the thought confirmed by Junpei doing a nervous sort of half-grin and replying,
"Why'd I do that anyway?" Before straightening his clothes and heading off out of the alley, looking back after a couple of steps as if to make sure Shinjiro wasn't staying behind.
It's a good thing Shinjiro remembers he's just had come on his hands because otherwise he'd have the irresistable urge to ruffle what little hair Junpei has.
Junpei's anything but quiet on the walk back to the dorm, but even if he zones out at most of the idle chatter Shinjiro finds himself smiling. He still thinks people suck and damn well doesn't trust them, but there's something likeable about Junpei. It's not just one trait or another that can be pinned down easily, but it's there. The guy's still basically decent, hasn't let the bastards of the world get to him yet. It's nice.
Shinjiro snorts at the idea of protecting Junpei from the world but waves off the curious look Junpei shoots him, gestures for him to keep on rambling.
For the moment, it's good to just listen. And he's been due a break anyway.
The End
Author: Emerald Embers
Rating: NC17
Warnings: Yaoi, violent references and bad language.
Pairings: Shinjiro/Junpei, references to Shinjiro/Akihiko.
Wordcount: 1854
Prompt: November 1st - Persona 3: Shinjiro/Junpei; back alleys - "It's packed at 2AM, I've got no coat/Are you on your own?/I'm into you/When are you going home?/Get into me"
Shinjiro's pissed. Not like there's anything unusual about that - it isn't as if he's ever had a particularly long fuse - but he'd thought he was over the worst of the cramps until they returned with a vengeance and left them here, leaning heavily against the cubicle's wall, staring into the bowl with dull fascination before wiping his mouth off with a tissue and flushing the whole mess away. That's another few ounces of blood gone; he's kind of relieved that withdrawal from the pills might kill him. Will kill him, actually. Being on them's been miserable, coming off them worse, but at least he knows it's not something permanent.
Still, he's pissed that the cramps have been ruining what had until now been a decent night of lazing in this shithole of a nightclub's booth, nursing a trio of bottles and avoiding Akihiko's questions. Doesn't matter that half of them go unasked, they're written all over his face, and Shinjiro really isn't in the mood for them.
He's a stubborn bastard though when it comes down to it and cramps or no cramps he's still determined to protect his booth from invasion, settles back down and takes his time with the third beer; almost blanks out the familiar voice nearby until the all too recognisable cap-and-goatee combination passes by, oblivious to him even if he can't return the favour.
Damnit, he'd picked this club deliberately because he didn't bump into people he knew here; then again, that had probably been Junpei's logic in choosing the venue too.
Normally he wouldn't bother picking on anyone like this, but he can't resist the temptation today; stalking up behind Junpei is easy, and he grunts "You don't look legal to me", making full use of his height advantage to look intimidating. Much to his annoyance Junpei doesn't jump as much as he'd hoped - probably a side-effect of spending so much time in Tartarus. Energy burnt off and the reaction to shock dampened.
Still, at least Junpei has the decency to look startled. "Shinjiro! Senpai! Er, I - wow, uh -" Shinjiro resists the urge to smirk, enjoying the guy's panic and waiting for him to click that he's not actually in trouble, and he's not sure if Junpei actually stops to breathe while hitting his moment of realisation, the run-on rambling ending with "And, uh, yeah, that's why I'm here, do you come here often?"
Shinjiro can't resist snorting at that, takes another swig of the beer and swilling it for a moment to get the copper taste out of his mouth, more out of habit than distaste for it. "None of your fucking business," He says with a quick grin, figuring that Junpei's worked out by now not to take anything any of his seniors say at face value, before he figures he should head back to the booth he's staked out; the cramps aren't bringing anything up anymore but they still hurt and he can't entirely control the sweat pouring off him, although at least in the humid atmosphere of the club there's nothing too unusual in that.
"You okay?" Junpei asks as he's about to turn and head back; he considers ignoring the question before deciding the guy at least deserves a response.
"It's called being drunk," Shinjiro lies, hoping Junpei's inexperience with alcohol will make him overlook a few of the little details like the fact his eyes are still pretty damn sharp and his sweat a cold one. It's easier than explaining away uncomfortable truths like, oh, yeah, he's pretty much going to die within another year or two.
"Grab me if you need anything, right?" Junpei asks before heading back deeper into the crowd on the dancefloor; the lack of a backwards glance allows Shinjiro to let out a breath he hadn't known he was holding, relax a little, and consider actually enjoying his drink instead of treating it as a necessity.
Nice having someone acknowledge him without being clingy for once, and he returns the favour by nodding to Junpei whenever he passes by waving enthusiastically; makes a mental note to chew him out for the appalling taste in drinks at some point if he can be bothered.
Cramps are a bitch, but there's a strange calm and sense of peace and quiet inside the booth despite the crowd and the pounding noise of what the club calls music; Shinjiro prefers anonymity to loneliness given the chance, and this'll do nicely.
It's two in the morning and Junpei is dripping in sweat and spilt drinks when he comes over but he's steady on his feet regardless, grinning wide and wiping his hands off on his pants before extending them to Shinjiro to help him up; there's an already fading scrawl of someone's number on his palm and Shinjiro almost smirks at that as he stands, straightening out his coat and realising Junpei's not brought one of his own. Idiot, he's going to catch a bastard of a cold that way if he isn't careful.
They're leaving and after protesting several times that he doesn't need any help he still finds himself stumbling and righting himself using Junpei as a convienient crutch when one of the cramps hit hard, resting his weight on the arm he slings around the kid's shoulders until he feels comfortable inside his own skin again. Short of wrapping an ugly tie around his head as a bandana he couldn't look much more like the stereotype of a drunkard, but he's careful to take deep breaths because the last thing he needs is to puke blood again where he can't flush away the evidence. It's cold outside and the fresh air helps a little, steadying him and making the idea of heading back to the dorm seem less horrific. Junpei's mostly quiet but occasionally pipes up with some random speech about homework or other random shit Shinjiro really doesn't need to know about. It's comforting anyway.
He's leaning more than he should, and there's one of those long moments when reality sinks in; where the air feels heavy and he's looking at Junpei's lips, and not so much thinking about kissing them as thinking about reasons not to.
"Shinjiro?" The extra syllable reminds him that he's not with Aki, not even with someone like Aki, he's with Junpei, the goofball with one hell of a swing and... hm. There was something in that open expression more understanding than he'd thought to give the guy credit for.
"I'd just fuck you over, kid. 'M not the dating type," he says, making sure what he thinks he's seeing here is right.
"I'm not asking for a date," Junpei replies, his breath hitching for a second and as Shinjiro watches the kid's throat swallowing he realises what a fucking predator he is these days.
Not here in the open, though. And certainly not back at the dorms.
Junpei makes a muffled sort of squeak before coughing to try and disguise it, gets stunned silent for a moment when Shinjiro drags him sharply away from the crowd into an alley. It stinks of restaurant leftovers and he's sure the bins are rustling because of something nastier than cats but there's enough late night activity around here for the steam vents to still blow warm. That's good enough for him and it looks like it's good enough for Junpei too; pity Aki never took to this sort of thing but Shinjiro shuts up the brief surge of guilt-disgust-shame by shoving his tongue down Junpei's throat and opening his flies. It's not a hint so much as a demand but Junpei takes it, pulling back slightly from the kiss - no surprise there, it had been an attack more than a display of affection - and tugs at Shinjiro's zipper. Good that he skipped the other layers, Shinjiro's sick of pointing out the fucking obvious to people who don't grasp that the coat's there for cover.
"I can -" Junpei begins and Shinjiro doesn't give the words enough room to decide if they're a statement or question, cuts in with his hand on Junpei's cock and the same shit-eating grin that used to get Aki hard in a second.
"You'd better," He says, almost amused by how hard Junpei is already; he remembers being like that, jerking off twice a day, sometimes more so he wouldn't end up with a tent in his trousers whenever a hot girl bent over or, worse, Aki sat next to him after boxing, bare thighs inches from Shinjiro's own, oblivious fucking cocktease.
The mental image helps but better still are Junpei's hands once he's got a literal handle on things; the guy's hands are hot, sweaty, frantic like the rest of him; he's got a need to please Shinjiro could eat up and an over-expressive face, nothing hidden. Junpei's wide open, no bullshit silences or attempts to play cool, and it's infectious; Shinjiro can't resist muttering obscenities into Junpei's ear, urging him on, and the coat's cover wouldn't matter at all because someone would have to be blind and deaf to miss what they're doing.
Junpei grits his teeth before tensing and Shinjiro halts, nudges him to turn around because he's not getting the guy's come over his top; quick as ever Junpei gets the hint although Shinjiro could smack him for crying out as he comes on the wall. Just another stain to go unnoticed, and Shinjiro finishes himself off.
Junpei looks a little put out by that, but hey, it's not Shinjiro's fault that the guy braced himself against the wall as he came; no hands that have touched that wall are going near his cock without getting washed. Besides, it feels like the best sort of dirty-bad-wrong to be jerking off with Junpei's come slicking his hands.
"Don't go mouthing off about that to everyone," Shinjiro says after, but he expects that much goes without saying; has the thought confirmed by Junpei doing a nervous sort of half-grin and replying,
"Why'd I do that anyway?" Before straightening his clothes and heading off out of the alley, looking back after a couple of steps as if to make sure Shinjiro wasn't staying behind.
It's a good thing Shinjiro remembers he's just had come on his hands because otherwise he'd have the irresistable urge to ruffle what little hair Junpei has.
Junpei's anything but quiet on the walk back to the dorm, but even if he zones out at most of the idle chatter Shinjiro finds himself smiling. He still thinks people suck and damn well doesn't trust them, but there's something likeable about Junpei. It's not just one trait or another that can be pinned down easily, but it's there. The guy's still basically decent, hasn't let the bastards of the world get to him yet. It's nice.
Shinjiro snorts at the idea of protecting Junpei from the world but waves off the curious look Junpei shoots him, gestures for him to keep on rambling.
For the moment, it's good to just listen. And he's been due a break anyway.
The End