LIPS
LIPS
Taguchi/Mizuki (KAT-TUN/Sadie)
Crossover, pwp, 5030 words, NC-17. Rough sex
Mizuki leaves the club with a guy who seems familiar; lures out a side of him that's everything but stupid puns.
Mizuki is leaning against a bar table, sipping on a Moscow mule that he can't remember buying, assumes that the bartender has gotten his order wrong because he knows for sure that no one bought it from him. The taste of lime is strong on his tongue, yet the vodka is stronger, but he enjoys it as he looks out over the busy club. It's hot in there, the temperature as well as the people, dancing for hours now, in tight, revealing clothes. Mizuki himself hasn't been dancing, isn't the dancer kind of person. He prefers to watch and talk, in case someone takes the step to come up to his side and start a conversation. If no one does, that's fine. He enjoys his drinks just as well on his own, doesn't bother with company unless it comes to him.
He strokes a strand of long hair out of his face just to see it fall back; it's his bangs that keep trying to cover his left eye. The rest of his hair is past shoulder length again, in long, smooth curls. He likes them, they're pretty and make him feel attractive, more than he would without them. It's not particularly unknown that he has a complex for his lips; it got better when he got the lower one pierced, but he still doesn't like them. He makes up for it with his hair, styles it to perfection and does the same with his make-up, draws it dark and smokey around eyes turned grey by contact lenses.
With eyes on the crowd he lifts his glass again, hears the metal ring in his lip clink against it as he drinks; then nearly chokes on the liquid when someone bumps into him from behind. It's a tall man, taller than himself and Mizuki already considers himself fairly tall at 175 cm.
“I'm sorry,” the man says, smiles gently as he sets his arms against the bar table next to Mizuki. Looks like he's intending to stay there. “You okay?”
Mizuki swallows down another mouthful of vodka mix. “Yeah.”
With skeptical eyes he looks up at the guy. He's kind of handsome, but the smile makes him look more like your average funny guy rather than someone you'd get down and dirty with. Short but curly hair nearly covers one of his eyes, and it's a little shorter on one side, not bad at all. Just different from the people he usually hang out with. But then the guy starts speaking, and Mizuki isn't sure whether to laugh or to be offended.
“Do you have a mirror in your pocket?” There's an awkward pause before the guy starts laughing and continues talking. “Because I can totally see myself in your pants.”
“You're drunk,” is all Mizuki says, goes back to his drink while the guy finishes laughing. “At least tell me your name before you try to hit on me.”
“I'm Taguchi,” the man says, still smiles like that, and Mizuki is starting to think of ways to make him stop. “I'll make sure you find the exit later, promise.”
Mizuki rolls his eyes. “You're a funny one, huh.”
“Thanks.” Taguchi inches closer, but Mizuki doesn't bother to move away. He knows how to get rid of guys when they get too much.
“You do realize I'm a guy, right?” Sometimes, it has to be said. Especially with drunk guys. This one is awfully steady though, for saying so much stupid things.
Taguchi laughs again, but shorter this time. “Of course. Or I wouldn't be hitting on you.”
Mizuki wants to roll his eyes a second time, but he stops when he realizes that the smell that has found his nose is coming from this Taguchi guy. And it's a very nice smell for someone who is drunk and ridiculous.
“Want something to drink?” Taguchi nods towards the now nearly empty glass in front of Mizuki. “I'll get you another. What do you want?”
“Sex on the beach,” Mizuki challenges, knows how drunk people can get provoked by that drink's name alone.
“I'd rather go for a bed. It's still cold outside,” is the answer he gets, along with a wink that looks too well practiced for any normal person, and Mizuki starts wondering if he hasn't seen that face somewhere before.
For a moment he considers to change places and leave the guy hanging, but he's back awfully quickly, a drink both for himself and for Mizuki.
“They didn't have anything bed related.” He hands the drink over, and Mizuki sips on it. Sex on the beach. But it's strong. “So I had them add something to keep you warm.”
“What are you having?” Mizuki nods towards the lower glass in Taguchi's hand, that contains a gold-like liquid and one large ice sphere. It looks expensive.
“Whiskey. Want some?” He offers the glass to Mizuki, who doesn't take it. He's fine with his drink, doesn't need to get drunk. Especially not with this weirdo around. Even though he is kind of hot, at a closer look.
Now that he's not laughing his eyes are a lot more appealing to Mizuki. Cool, almost. They're a dark brown, he sees in the flashes of light, and to his surprise they look a lot clearer than he'd expect to. As if Taguchi in fact isn't drunk at all. After all, he had seemed fairly steady on the way over there. Maybe the stupid puns are just the way he normally is.
Then again, that should be even more reason to stay away from him. Yet Mizuki stays there, drinks while listening to Taguchi's rambling about this-or-that; honestly, he doesn't really care that much. Then Taguchi suggests that they dance, and Mizuki can't help it when he looks at him like he's a little insulted.
“I don't dance.”
“I'll teach you,” Taguchi challenges, does a very subtle body roll and there's no doubt at all that this one indeed can dance. Mizuki still denies the invitation, tells him he's going to watch from there. To his surprise Taguchi accepts it, takes a step back to pass behind Mizuki on the way to the dance floor. As he expects him gone, Mizuki jumps a little when there's hot air against his cheek on the side where his bangs have fallen down over his eye again; he can't see Taguchi, but he can hear his breathing, and then his words. “Watch closely.” The words are just barely voiced, more breathed with a deep undertone, and Mizuki shivers involuntarily before he reminds himself that this guy is an odd one. Not his type.
It turns out that Taguchi is a good dancer. Better than the average club people. His body moves with the rhythm, stands out for more than the fact that he's taller than most of the people around him; if he's not a professional, he has at least practiced dancing a lot. Mizuki watches him with mild interest, but the more time that passes the more it looks like Taguchi forgets about everything around him, and to Mizuki that means that there's not really a reason for him to keep watching. He turns away from what's in front of him, leaves his now empty glass on the bar table as he heads for the bathroom.
Mizuki is washing his hands a lot longer than he has to; his eyes are on his own face, his hair as it falls over his shoulder. It might be the alcohol telling him so, but he looks hot. He's done the make-up particularly well tonight, the dark shadows accenting his eyes, makes them look more hooded than usual and it looks great.
The door opens, lets in the beat of music as well as loud voices for barely a second, enough to tear Mizuki out of his thinking mode. He pulls away from the hot water tap, hears the water stop pouring as he dries his hands; when he looks up into the mirror again, he's nearly a little shocked. Taguchi is standing behind him, face calm and so much different now that he has been dancing. It's almost like there's some kind of passion over it, and damn, it gives him a sex appeal that had been nonexistent to Mizuki only a little while ago.
Taguchi takes a step closer, breaks the eye-contact they had found through the mirror; Mizuki continues watching their reflections, but he's the only one. There's a touch to his left hip, a hand, he realizes when Taguchi's body lines up against his right side. He has no intention to shove him away if he's going to look like that, and to be fair, it's only a fleeting thought that the extra strong drink might have to do with his judgement of this guy.
“Let me kiss you.” The words rumble out of his mouth before he has the time to even consider what it sounds like, hears his own demanding voice echo in his mind until fingertips meet his chin, tilts his head upwards.
“No.” Taguchi sounds determined, yet he's the one leaning down to press their lips together.
It's an uncomfortable angle, but Taguchi is soft against him and damn, it's probably the best kiss Mizuki has ever had. Not too eager but still enthusiastic, in a passionate way rather than rushed, enough that Mizuki forgets all about the fact that they're in a not so fabulous club restroom and just melts against the body behind him. He feels the tip of a tongue against his lips and parts them automatically (maybe too willingly), and the hand on his hip tightens as Taguchi leans a little bit further down, presses a little harder against him, hums what could be a moan. It's so good, yet not at all enough, and Mizuki breaks away to turn around properly, his hands immediately coming up to Taguchi's neck to pull him down, but then they make eye-contact. There is want written in Taguchi's eyes, want that bores its way into Mizuki and he figures that this guy has to have a button that turns hotness on and off because if he had gotten that look to begin with, he would probably have been getting fucked against a wall by now.
“Your lips are fantastic,” Taguchi mumbles, his voice definitely having dropped an octave, and Mizuki feels his body react on just that. The compliment is one he hears enough that he is getting tired of it, but when the one saying it looks like that he doesn't mind at all. Quite the opposite; this time he plays on it, wets them with his tongue so quickly that it's just barely noticeable, and when Taguchi places his other hand on Mizuki's unoccupied hip and squeezes as he pulls him a little bit closer, he's sure that it had the effect he wished for.
“I thought you were going to show me the exit?” Mizuki counters, but he gets no answer as Taguchi pushes him back half a step, up against the sink counter and their lips connect. It works as a response, though, because as eager as Taguchi is now, there's no way they are ending it like this tonight.
But none of them make any effort to move away from there. Taguchi keeps pressing closer, but not uncomfortably. Their legs are connected and Mizuki parts his when there's a light nudge against his knees; next he finds a thigh between them and he kind of maybe not so accidentally rubs against it, which causes Taguchi to push back, and they're both breathing a little harder the next time their lips part. They only break away because they're interrupted, and Mizuki finally comes back to the fact that he's leaning against a counter that could be very, very gross, but realizes that he doesn't really care.
“No girls in the men's room,” their interruption tells them, and Mizuki glares at him past Taguchi. It's a guy, probably around their age, with bleached hair styled up and backwards, sharp facial features that could have made him look very feminine if he had put on make-up and done his hair differently. And if he had worn sleeves, because those shoulders and arms are nothing but those of a man who is training actively.
“Fuck you,” Taguchi leers, throws Mizuki off with both the comment and the casual tone. “We were just about to leave anyway.” Mizuki catches the wink he throws at the guy through the mirror, and the offensive comment makes a lot more sense when he understands that they know each other.
They do leave, Mizuki isn't sure where they're heading but Taguchi's arm is firm around his waist as they walk streets lit up with neon signs. He's guessing a hotel, hopefully somewhere close, but he doesn't ask. They talk a little, about insignificant things; the way Taguchi's hand squeezes around his waist says more than any of their words do. His patience lasts until it starts feeling like they're walking with no goal, and he has to ask.
“To my place,” Taguchi answers, like it's not even something to ask for.
“Not a hotel?” To him, that's the natural choice, but Taguchi gives a short laugh.
“Hotels attract paparazzi,” he answers, and Mizuki doesn't really get it. His fans wouldn't make a big deal out of him taking someone to a hotel. Also, he hasn't even told Taguchi he plays in a major band. “We'll be there in five minutes.”
“What if I don't want to wait?” Mizuki asks, because really he was pretty into it back at the club.
“I can fuck you in a dirty public restroom?”
“Yeah?” He doesn't believe him. “Why don't you?”
The next thing that happens is so unexpected that Mizuki forgets to breathe. Taguchi spins him around and pushes him up against a brick wall, lips on his immediately, thigh again between his legs. The wall is rough through his thin shirt, but Taguchi's tongue is hot against his and he grinds against that thigh, moans into Taguchi's mouth because this is exactly what he wanted. It's rushed and dirty and in public, they're just in a side alley that happens to be less lit up, and it's perfect.
“I'd let you do me right here, you know,” he groans when Taguchi slips a hand down to his ass, squeezes and pulls him closer at the same time. But then all of it is gone, and he's standing there breathing hard and the beginning of an erection creating a bulge in his pants.
“I'd prefer you in my bed, though. Come.” His arm is tugged on and he follows, and it turns out that Taguchi's apartment really was just a couple minutes away. And once he gets inside, he doesn't regret going, at all.
It's a big apartment. Mizuki isn't poor, but he could never afford an apartment like that at the location it's at, and he's starting to understand that the paparazzi thing didn't have to do with himself. Not to mention that the furniture looks expensive; when he's pushed backwards onto the bed it's the most comfortable one he has ever experienced, and the covers feel luxurious. The son of some important company owner, he supposes, and pushes the thoughts away because Taguchi is hovering above him, lips tracing his neck while he's pushing up Mizuki's shirt to access his stomach. He's back at his lips quickly, though, kisses him over and over, responds when Mizuki rolls his hips against him, both with a moan and a roll of his own, but he doesn't seem to be in a rush to get any clothes off at all. It's not like Mizuki really minds, only he is getting kind of impatient. Still, it's not like he's going to ask Taguchi why he isn't hurrying; instead he figures it's up to himself, starts unbuttoning Taguchi's shirt.
“I could do this forever,” Taguchi mumbles then, maybe mostly to himself. “I've never kissed someone with their lips pierced before.”
Mizuki supposes it makes sense, he just doesn't find it a big deal himself. It's fun that Taguchi does, though. He can work with that.
“You like it?” he asks, hears his own voice a little huskier than it usually is.
“Yeah,” and there's nothing else before he gets kissed again, this time with Taguchi's hands working on his pants. “Your lips are so hot,” Taguchi continues, this time goes to mouth at his jawline. “I wanna feel them around my cock.”
The words send sparks of arousal all along his body to pool in his lower stomach, and damn, for some reason nothing has ever made him feel more eager to suck. So he nods, slides his hands inside the shirt he has opened, feels Taguchi's sides under his palms, traces them until he reaches his black jeans. Mizuki isn't sure Taguchi even noticed him agreeing, but when he pops the button and goes for the zipper Taguchi pulls away, straight backwards until he's standing in front of the bed. One dark glance as their eyes meet, while he finishes undoing his pants on his own, and Mizuki is crawling towards him without any prompting. He stops when he reaches the edge of the bed, stays on it, licks his lips as he watches Taguchi pull his cock out. With one hand he lets his long curls fall over one shoulder, hooks some of his remaining hair behind the ear on the opposite side, then looks up at Taguchi with lips just the slightest parted. In front of his face Taguchi is stroking his cock, up and down but his eyes are trained on Mizuki's face, a stable eye-contact until he moves a little forward, without a word pushes the head of his erection against his lips.
Mizuki is eager to take him in; opens his mouth and lets Taguchi feed him inch by inch, and when he stops and starts pulling back to push in again, he closes his lips around the length and sucks, just enough to be a little more than a tease but less than needed to get off for real. He doesn't do much work, lets Taguchi set the pace, just opens up wider when he pushes further inside, and despite not getting any stimulation himself, Mizuki is the one getting impatient. Yet he doesn't hurry, sucks a little harder if anything; smirks on the inside when Taguchi strokes along his cheek to his lower lip, follows its movement until he reaches the piercing.
“God,” Taguchi moans as he rubs the jewelry lightly with his thumb, and the rather slow pace increases a little. A glance upwards and Mizuki finds that Taguchi isn't looking at him, his eyes are closed and his lips parted. Only the hand in his hair seems aware of everything that's going on, guiding him up and down Taguchi's length, but when he pulls away it doesn't stop him.
He crawls backwards on the bed, knows Taguchi watches him now; when he finds himself where he wants to be he looks properly at him, and arousal seems to make him burn on the inside. Still by the edge of the bed is Taguchi, cock glistening with saliva where it sticks out of his pants, and he's pulling his shirt off with gaze glued to Mizuki, lust so visible in his eyes that Mizuki nearly spreads his legs on instinct, pants still on and all. But he controls himself, turns around halfway to check for lube and condoms while he's waiting for Taguchi to get his jeans off; he doesn't see it, but hears the sound of rough fabric being pulled on. The bed shifts and he's nearly through one drawer when Taguchi leans over him, opens the second one and pulls out what he's been looking for. The items get dropped on the covers and the drawer is left open as Taguchi presses their lips together, angle a little awkward but still better than in the bathroom earlier, and much more rushed.
It's Mizuki who pushes him back, slides his own pants off while he pushes Taguchi down. One hand on his chest and he has him fully on his back, then spreads his legs to settle in between them. For a moment Taguchi looks confused about it; he must have been set on topping. To be fair, Mizuki wants him to, wants to feel him inside, hot and hard, but he's not done yet. This guy likes his lips more than your usual one, and he wants to rile him up, enough that he gets pushed down himself, and preferably in a rougher fashion.
So he lowers his head, makes sure his long hair doesn't block the view, and lets his tongue dart out to lap at the head of Taguchi's cock. It's wet with pre-come, but he licks it up and swallows it down before slowly, slowly dragging his lips along the entire length; he makes sure the piercing brushes against the smooth skin. It's easy to tell that it does, because not only does Taguchi draw a quick breath when he feels it, his thighs also tense up and his hips make a tiny, tiny roll that Mizuki doesn't bother to hold down. Taguchi's attention is all on Mizuki's mouth, by the looks and sounds of it, doesn't notice when Mizuki sneaks his hand up the covers and grabs the lubrication, keeps sucking as he opens it, slicks a finger up.
A push with the back of his hand to Taguchi's thigh is all that's needed; he spreads his legs further like he's not unfamiliar with doing so. He does jump a little when Mizuki sets his fingertip against his hole, spreads the slippery substance over it, stiffens a little when he carefully pushes it inside. But Mizuki feels his cock twitching against his tongue, pushes further, starts sliding his finger in and out at the same pace as he moves his head; the moan Taguchi lets out is hot and a little high-pitched and breaks halfway as he inhales air quickly instead. There's fingers against his head again, but they don't tangle in his hair, only settle at the side of his head like Taguchi is just looking for something to hold on to.
“You-” he starts, is cut off by his own moan and Mizuki relaxes his mouth to take the thrust Taguchi can't hold back; he's definitely hitting something good right now and it's so hot to see him struggle against the pleasure. “Hey, st-, ah, stop,” he finally gets out, between sharp breaths, but Mizuki doesn't pull anything away until Taguchi is tugging on his hair.
Everything goes as planned. He gets pulled up and pushed around, and Taguchi is tugging his shirt off at the same time as he's shoved onto his back.
“Devil lips,” he mumbles against Mizuki's throat, searches the bed for the bottle Mizuki has already used, and there's no legs to spread this time because Mizuki has them open for him even before he finds what he needs.
“Hurry,” Mizuki incites, lowers a hand to stroke himself while Taguchi works on coating his own fingers. It doesn't take more than half a minute until he has the first finger inside; Mizuki begs for the second within another couple minutes, and to begin with Taguchi isn't opposed to giving him what he wants. Mizuki is sure it's clear how worked up he is with how he squirms; Taguchi shoves his hand away when it becomes too much, grips it and holds it against the mattress probably just to see him grow impatient and bothered. Without letting go he continues pushing his fingers inside, speeds them up when Mizuki whines and bucks his hips to get them deeper.
“You're riding my fingers now? Slut.” For a second Taguchi regrets his choice of word, but the first response he gets is a vigorous roll of hips accompanied by a moan, then Mizuki tears his hand back from the hold Taguchi has on him.
“I'd rather ride your dick,” he bites back, and Taguchi nearly loses his breath when he looks up at where he's leaning onto his elbows. The grey lenses seem even more intense than before; perhaps because of the dark eye-shadow smudged by sweat, the hair that's not so styled anymore but still perfect as it spills over his bare shoulders. His lips are pointed with a smirk, but break apart to moan again when Taguchi deliberately thrusts his fingers harder.
“Why don't you?” He pulls away only to have Mizuki rolling a condom onto his cock before he has even started thinking about it himself; for a moment he expects to get pushed onto his back again, this time to be straddled, but Mizuki falls back onto the mattress with an expectant look.
“Thought I already told you to fuck me.”
Now his hair is spread against the white sheets and he's the perfect picture of gorgeous indecency, dolled up face and messy curls, dark eyes and smooth skin, legs parted wide and a hand on his own erection, every part of his body letting Taguchi know he's waiting. And Taguchi says no more, steadies himself above Mizuki before he lines up and pushes inside. He doesn't take his eyes off his face, watches how his breath hitches and his eyes flutter shut, then open again when Taguchi isn't moving, and the glare is enough to know that he doesn't want him to pause. Still, he starts out slowly, takes pleasure in the way Mizuki moves against him, how the hand on his side squeezes a little every time he buries himself all the way inside him.
It doesn't take long until Mizuki's hand stops being soft on Taguchi; he puts his nails to work, scratches down his back and again, it gives him the results he wants. Taguchi grabs his hand, pushes it away and onto the mattress. He doesn't hold it down this time, but thrusts harder, and Mizuki moans, unashamed.
“Is that all you got?” The mocking tone comes through even though he both is a little out of breath and has to pause the sentence halfway because of a particularly hard thrust. Something flashes through Taguchi's eyes, only for a split second, then he's leaning down to crush their lips together while he holds Mizuki in place with a strong hand on his waist. He doesn't seem to be holding back much in his movements, nor does he hold back his sounds, but Mizuki wants him to let go completely. It's obvious that he enjoys the piercing, nips around it, and for once Mizuki actually enjoys that attention, too. This guy is different from the ones he usually hooks up with, yet he suspects that there is something inside him that is just waiting to be unleashed. Something that isn't so different from what Mizuki is used to. And since he's used to it, he knows exactly how to unleash it.
So he does. He opens his mouth, takes Taguchi's lower lip between his own, sucks on it lightly before he takes it between his teeth and bites into it instead. That's all he needs to do. Taguchi pulls back and away, and before Mizuki knows it himself, he's being pulled around, feels a light slap over his ass as finds himself with face down and stomach pressed against the mattress; only for his hips to be lifted just the slightest before Taguchi pushes back in.
“Mmh,” he groans into the mattress, feels Taguchi's hands dig into his hips as he thrusts, hard enough that he slides up the bed a little, but he's not so weak that he can't hold himself up at all.
“Slut,” Taguchi repeats, and Mizuki shivers at the word because it's hitting so right and he doesn't mind it the least. He can hear Taguchi close above him, assumes he has leaned forwards and yes, next there's a hand coming down on the bed next to Mizuki's shoulder. “That good?”
“Harder,” he challenges, although he doesn't really need it; he's already hot and aching.
“Touch yourself,” is all he gets back, and although it's difficult in this position, more or less pressed against the bed, he forces his hips up a little further and gets a hand around himself.
When he comes he couldn't care the least about dirtying the undoubtedly expensive sheets; all he knows is Taguchi, full and perfect inside of him, one rough hand in his hair pulling his head backwards to hear him voice his pleasure, and when he collapses entirely onto his front Taguchi is pulling out and rolling him over again. He's pretty certain what's going on when he hears the condom being pulled off, feels the bed shift, and he's already parting his lips when Taguchi pushes the head of his cock against them. The first spurt of come hits his upper lip; he lifts his head and takes the rest inside his mouth. His instincts tell him to swallow, but when he glances upwards Taguchi's eyes says not to; a moment later he's down next to Mizuki tasting himself in his mouth. It's messy, but Taguchi is into it and when he pulls back, there's something so very content on his face.
“So damn hot,” he mumbles, strokes Mizuki's lower lip with his thumb, pushes some remaining white back into his mouth before he pulls playfully on the metal jewelry. “Wish I could get one myself.”
Mizuki takes a good look at him; that's another thing Taguchi says that makes him think he's not just anyone. “Why can't you?”
“Because I'm an idol? Gotta leave something to the rockers. I'm piercing enough as I am.” He winks stupidly to emphasize the pun but Mizuki doesn't bat an eyelash at that, because suddenly he knows exactly who this guy is and why he had seemed so familiar. That he's not some indie idol, either. That he sees his face on billboards he can only dream of, every time KAT-TUN releases something new.
Taguchi/Mizuki (KAT-TUN/Sadie)
Crossover, pwp, 5030 words, NC-17. Rough sex
Mizuki leaves the club with a guy who seems familiar; lures out a side of him that's everything but stupid puns.
Mizuki is leaning against a bar table, sipping on a Moscow mule that he can't remember buying, assumes that the bartender has gotten his order wrong because he knows for sure that no one bought it from him. The taste of lime is strong on his tongue, yet the vodka is stronger, but he enjoys it as he looks out over the busy club. It's hot in there, the temperature as well as the people, dancing for hours now, in tight, revealing clothes. Mizuki himself hasn't been dancing, isn't the dancer kind of person. He prefers to watch and talk, in case someone takes the step to come up to his side and start a conversation. If no one does, that's fine. He enjoys his drinks just as well on his own, doesn't bother with company unless it comes to him.
He strokes a strand of long hair out of his face just to see it fall back; it's his bangs that keep trying to cover his left eye. The rest of his hair is past shoulder length again, in long, smooth curls. He likes them, they're pretty and make him feel attractive, more than he would without them. It's not particularly unknown that he has a complex for his lips; it got better when he got the lower one pierced, but he still doesn't like them. He makes up for it with his hair, styles it to perfection and does the same with his make-up, draws it dark and smokey around eyes turned grey by contact lenses.
With eyes on the crowd he lifts his glass again, hears the metal ring in his lip clink against it as he drinks; then nearly chokes on the liquid when someone bumps into him from behind. It's a tall man, taller than himself and Mizuki already considers himself fairly tall at 175 cm.
“I'm sorry,” the man says, smiles gently as he sets his arms against the bar table next to Mizuki. Looks like he's intending to stay there. “You okay?”
Mizuki swallows down another mouthful of vodka mix. “Yeah.”
With skeptical eyes he looks up at the guy. He's kind of handsome, but the smile makes him look more like your average funny guy rather than someone you'd get down and dirty with. Short but curly hair nearly covers one of his eyes, and it's a little shorter on one side, not bad at all. Just different from the people he usually hang out with. But then the guy starts speaking, and Mizuki isn't sure whether to laugh or to be offended.
“Do you have a mirror in your pocket?” There's an awkward pause before the guy starts laughing and continues talking. “Because I can totally see myself in your pants.”
“You're drunk,” is all Mizuki says, goes back to his drink while the guy finishes laughing. “At least tell me your name before you try to hit on me.”
“I'm Taguchi,” the man says, still smiles like that, and Mizuki is starting to think of ways to make him stop. “I'll make sure you find the exit later, promise.”
Mizuki rolls his eyes. “You're a funny one, huh.”
“Thanks.” Taguchi inches closer, but Mizuki doesn't bother to move away. He knows how to get rid of guys when they get too much.
“You do realize I'm a guy, right?” Sometimes, it has to be said. Especially with drunk guys. This one is awfully steady though, for saying so much stupid things.
Taguchi laughs again, but shorter this time. “Of course. Or I wouldn't be hitting on you.”
Mizuki wants to roll his eyes a second time, but he stops when he realizes that the smell that has found his nose is coming from this Taguchi guy. And it's a very nice smell for someone who is drunk and ridiculous.
“Want something to drink?” Taguchi nods towards the now nearly empty glass in front of Mizuki. “I'll get you another. What do you want?”
“Sex on the beach,” Mizuki challenges, knows how drunk people can get provoked by that drink's name alone.
“I'd rather go for a bed. It's still cold outside,” is the answer he gets, along with a wink that looks too well practiced for any normal person, and Mizuki starts wondering if he hasn't seen that face somewhere before.
For a moment he considers to change places and leave the guy hanging, but he's back awfully quickly, a drink both for himself and for Mizuki.
“They didn't have anything bed related.” He hands the drink over, and Mizuki sips on it. Sex on the beach. But it's strong. “So I had them add something to keep you warm.”
“What are you having?” Mizuki nods towards the lower glass in Taguchi's hand, that contains a gold-like liquid and one large ice sphere. It looks expensive.
“Whiskey. Want some?” He offers the glass to Mizuki, who doesn't take it. He's fine with his drink, doesn't need to get drunk. Especially not with this weirdo around. Even though he is kind of hot, at a closer look.
Now that he's not laughing his eyes are a lot more appealing to Mizuki. Cool, almost. They're a dark brown, he sees in the flashes of light, and to his surprise they look a lot clearer than he'd expect to. As if Taguchi in fact isn't drunk at all. After all, he had seemed fairly steady on the way over there. Maybe the stupid puns are just the way he normally is.
Then again, that should be even more reason to stay away from him. Yet Mizuki stays there, drinks while listening to Taguchi's rambling about this-or-that; honestly, he doesn't really care that much. Then Taguchi suggests that they dance, and Mizuki can't help it when he looks at him like he's a little insulted.
“I don't dance.”
“I'll teach you,” Taguchi challenges, does a very subtle body roll and there's no doubt at all that this one indeed can dance. Mizuki still denies the invitation, tells him he's going to watch from there. To his surprise Taguchi accepts it, takes a step back to pass behind Mizuki on the way to the dance floor. As he expects him gone, Mizuki jumps a little when there's hot air against his cheek on the side where his bangs have fallen down over his eye again; he can't see Taguchi, but he can hear his breathing, and then his words. “Watch closely.” The words are just barely voiced, more breathed with a deep undertone, and Mizuki shivers involuntarily before he reminds himself that this guy is an odd one. Not his type.
It turns out that Taguchi is a good dancer. Better than the average club people. His body moves with the rhythm, stands out for more than the fact that he's taller than most of the people around him; if he's not a professional, he has at least practiced dancing a lot. Mizuki watches him with mild interest, but the more time that passes the more it looks like Taguchi forgets about everything around him, and to Mizuki that means that there's not really a reason for him to keep watching. He turns away from what's in front of him, leaves his now empty glass on the bar table as he heads for the bathroom.
Mizuki is washing his hands a lot longer than he has to; his eyes are on his own face, his hair as it falls over his shoulder. It might be the alcohol telling him so, but he looks hot. He's done the make-up particularly well tonight, the dark shadows accenting his eyes, makes them look more hooded than usual and it looks great.
The door opens, lets in the beat of music as well as loud voices for barely a second, enough to tear Mizuki out of his thinking mode. He pulls away from the hot water tap, hears the water stop pouring as he dries his hands; when he looks up into the mirror again, he's nearly a little shocked. Taguchi is standing behind him, face calm and so much different now that he has been dancing. It's almost like there's some kind of passion over it, and damn, it gives him a sex appeal that had been nonexistent to Mizuki only a little while ago.
Taguchi takes a step closer, breaks the eye-contact they had found through the mirror; Mizuki continues watching their reflections, but he's the only one. There's a touch to his left hip, a hand, he realizes when Taguchi's body lines up against his right side. He has no intention to shove him away if he's going to look like that, and to be fair, it's only a fleeting thought that the extra strong drink might have to do with his judgement of this guy.
“Let me kiss you.” The words rumble out of his mouth before he has the time to even consider what it sounds like, hears his own demanding voice echo in his mind until fingertips meet his chin, tilts his head upwards.
“No.” Taguchi sounds determined, yet he's the one leaning down to press their lips together.
It's an uncomfortable angle, but Taguchi is soft against him and damn, it's probably the best kiss Mizuki has ever had. Not too eager but still enthusiastic, in a passionate way rather than rushed, enough that Mizuki forgets all about the fact that they're in a not so fabulous club restroom and just melts against the body behind him. He feels the tip of a tongue against his lips and parts them automatically (maybe too willingly), and the hand on his hip tightens as Taguchi leans a little bit further down, presses a little harder against him, hums what could be a moan. It's so good, yet not at all enough, and Mizuki breaks away to turn around properly, his hands immediately coming up to Taguchi's neck to pull him down, but then they make eye-contact. There is want written in Taguchi's eyes, want that bores its way into Mizuki and he figures that this guy has to have a button that turns hotness on and off because if he had gotten that look to begin with, he would probably have been getting fucked against a wall by now.
“Your lips are fantastic,” Taguchi mumbles, his voice definitely having dropped an octave, and Mizuki feels his body react on just that. The compliment is one he hears enough that he is getting tired of it, but when the one saying it looks like that he doesn't mind at all. Quite the opposite; this time he plays on it, wets them with his tongue so quickly that it's just barely noticeable, and when Taguchi places his other hand on Mizuki's unoccupied hip and squeezes as he pulls him a little bit closer, he's sure that it had the effect he wished for.
“I thought you were going to show me the exit?” Mizuki counters, but he gets no answer as Taguchi pushes him back half a step, up against the sink counter and their lips connect. It works as a response, though, because as eager as Taguchi is now, there's no way they are ending it like this tonight.
But none of them make any effort to move away from there. Taguchi keeps pressing closer, but not uncomfortably. Their legs are connected and Mizuki parts his when there's a light nudge against his knees; next he finds a thigh between them and he kind of maybe not so accidentally rubs against it, which causes Taguchi to push back, and they're both breathing a little harder the next time their lips part. They only break away because they're interrupted, and Mizuki finally comes back to the fact that he's leaning against a counter that could be very, very gross, but realizes that he doesn't really care.
“No girls in the men's room,” their interruption tells them, and Mizuki glares at him past Taguchi. It's a guy, probably around their age, with bleached hair styled up and backwards, sharp facial features that could have made him look very feminine if he had put on make-up and done his hair differently. And if he had worn sleeves, because those shoulders and arms are nothing but those of a man who is training actively.
“Fuck you,” Taguchi leers, throws Mizuki off with both the comment and the casual tone. “We were just about to leave anyway.” Mizuki catches the wink he throws at the guy through the mirror, and the offensive comment makes a lot more sense when he understands that they know each other.
They do leave, Mizuki isn't sure where they're heading but Taguchi's arm is firm around his waist as they walk streets lit up with neon signs. He's guessing a hotel, hopefully somewhere close, but he doesn't ask. They talk a little, about insignificant things; the way Taguchi's hand squeezes around his waist says more than any of their words do. His patience lasts until it starts feeling like they're walking with no goal, and he has to ask.
“To my place,” Taguchi answers, like it's not even something to ask for.
“Not a hotel?” To him, that's the natural choice, but Taguchi gives a short laugh.
“Hotels attract paparazzi,” he answers, and Mizuki doesn't really get it. His fans wouldn't make a big deal out of him taking someone to a hotel. Also, he hasn't even told Taguchi he plays in a major band. “We'll be there in five minutes.”
“What if I don't want to wait?” Mizuki asks, because really he was pretty into it back at the club.
“I can fuck you in a dirty public restroom?”
“Yeah?” He doesn't believe him. “Why don't you?”
The next thing that happens is so unexpected that Mizuki forgets to breathe. Taguchi spins him around and pushes him up against a brick wall, lips on his immediately, thigh again between his legs. The wall is rough through his thin shirt, but Taguchi's tongue is hot against his and he grinds against that thigh, moans into Taguchi's mouth because this is exactly what he wanted. It's rushed and dirty and in public, they're just in a side alley that happens to be less lit up, and it's perfect.
“I'd let you do me right here, you know,” he groans when Taguchi slips a hand down to his ass, squeezes and pulls him closer at the same time. But then all of it is gone, and he's standing there breathing hard and the beginning of an erection creating a bulge in his pants.
“I'd prefer you in my bed, though. Come.” His arm is tugged on and he follows, and it turns out that Taguchi's apartment really was just a couple minutes away. And once he gets inside, he doesn't regret going, at all.
It's a big apartment. Mizuki isn't poor, but he could never afford an apartment like that at the location it's at, and he's starting to understand that the paparazzi thing didn't have to do with himself. Not to mention that the furniture looks expensive; when he's pushed backwards onto the bed it's the most comfortable one he has ever experienced, and the covers feel luxurious. The son of some important company owner, he supposes, and pushes the thoughts away because Taguchi is hovering above him, lips tracing his neck while he's pushing up Mizuki's shirt to access his stomach. He's back at his lips quickly, though, kisses him over and over, responds when Mizuki rolls his hips against him, both with a moan and a roll of his own, but he doesn't seem to be in a rush to get any clothes off at all. It's not like Mizuki really minds, only he is getting kind of impatient. Still, it's not like he's going to ask Taguchi why he isn't hurrying; instead he figures it's up to himself, starts unbuttoning Taguchi's shirt.
“I could do this forever,” Taguchi mumbles then, maybe mostly to himself. “I've never kissed someone with their lips pierced before.”
Mizuki supposes it makes sense, he just doesn't find it a big deal himself. It's fun that Taguchi does, though. He can work with that.
“You like it?” he asks, hears his own voice a little huskier than it usually is.
“Yeah,” and there's nothing else before he gets kissed again, this time with Taguchi's hands working on his pants. “Your lips are so hot,” Taguchi continues, this time goes to mouth at his jawline. “I wanna feel them around my cock.”
The words send sparks of arousal all along his body to pool in his lower stomach, and damn, for some reason nothing has ever made him feel more eager to suck. So he nods, slides his hands inside the shirt he has opened, feels Taguchi's sides under his palms, traces them until he reaches his black jeans. Mizuki isn't sure Taguchi even noticed him agreeing, but when he pops the button and goes for the zipper Taguchi pulls away, straight backwards until he's standing in front of the bed. One dark glance as their eyes meet, while he finishes undoing his pants on his own, and Mizuki is crawling towards him without any prompting. He stops when he reaches the edge of the bed, stays on it, licks his lips as he watches Taguchi pull his cock out. With one hand he lets his long curls fall over one shoulder, hooks some of his remaining hair behind the ear on the opposite side, then looks up at Taguchi with lips just the slightest parted. In front of his face Taguchi is stroking his cock, up and down but his eyes are trained on Mizuki's face, a stable eye-contact until he moves a little forward, without a word pushes the head of his erection against his lips.
Mizuki is eager to take him in; opens his mouth and lets Taguchi feed him inch by inch, and when he stops and starts pulling back to push in again, he closes his lips around the length and sucks, just enough to be a little more than a tease but less than needed to get off for real. He doesn't do much work, lets Taguchi set the pace, just opens up wider when he pushes further inside, and despite not getting any stimulation himself, Mizuki is the one getting impatient. Yet he doesn't hurry, sucks a little harder if anything; smirks on the inside when Taguchi strokes along his cheek to his lower lip, follows its movement until he reaches the piercing.
“God,” Taguchi moans as he rubs the jewelry lightly with his thumb, and the rather slow pace increases a little. A glance upwards and Mizuki finds that Taguchi isn't looking at him, his eyes are closed and his lips parted. Only the hand in his hair seems aware of everything that's going on, guiding him up and down Taguchi's length, but when he pulls away it doesn't stop him.
He crawls backwards on the bed, knows Taguchi watches him now; when he finds himself where he wants to be he looks properly at him, and arousal seems to make him burn on the inside. Still by the edge of the bed is Taguchi, cock glistening with saliva where it sticks out of his pants, and he's pulling his shirt off with gaze glued to Mizuki, lust so visible in his eyes that Mizuki nearly spreads his legs on instinct, pants still on and all. But he controls himself, turns around halfway to check for lube and condoms while he's waiting for Taguchi to get his jeans off; he doesn't see it, but hears the sound of rough fabric being pulled on. The bed shifts and he's nearly through one drawer when Taguchi leans over him, opens the second one and pulls out what he's been looking for. The items get dropped on the covers and the drawer is left open as Taguchi presses their lips together, angle a little awkward but still better than in the bathroom earlier, and much more rushed.
It's Mizuki who pushes him back, slides his own pants off while he pushes Taguchi down. One hand on his chest and he has him fully on his back, then spreads his legs to settle in between them. For a moment Taguchi looks confused about it; he must have been set on topping. To be fair, Mizuki wants him to, wants to feel him inside, hot and hard, but he's not done yet. This guy likes his lips more than your usual one, and he wants to rile him up, enough that he gets pushed down himself, and preferably in a rougher fashion.
So he lowers his head, makes sure his long hair doesn't block the view, and lets his tongue dart out to lap at the head of Taguchi's cock. It's wet with pre-come, but he licks it up and swallows it down before slowly, slowly dragging his lips along the entire length; he makes sure the piercing brushes against the smooth skin. It's easy to tell that it does, because not only does Taguchi draw a quick breath when he feels it, his thighs also tense up and his hips make a tiny, tiny roll that Mizuki doesn't bother to hold down. Taguchi's attention is all on Mizuki's mouth, by the looks and sounds of it, doesn't notice when Mizuki sneaks his hand up the covers and grabs the lubrication, keeps sucking as he opens it, slicks a finger up.
A push with the back of his hand to Taguchi's thigh is all that's needed; he spreads his legs further like he's not unfamiliar with doing so. He does jump a little when Mizuki sets his fingertip against his hole, spreads the slippery substance over it, stiffens a little when he carefully pushes it inside. But Mizuki feels his cock twitching against his tongue, pushes further, starts sliding his finger in and out at the same pace as he moves his head; the moan Taguchi lets out is hot and a little high-pitched and breaks halfway as he inhales air quickly instead. There's fingers against his head again, but they don't tangle in his hair, only settle at the side of his head like Taguchi is just looking for something to hold on to.
“You-” he starts, is cut off by his own moan and Mizuki relaxes his mouth to take the thrust Taguchi can't hold back; he's definitely hitting something good right now and it's so hot to see him struggle against the pleasure. “Hey, st-, ah, stop,” he finally gets out, between sharp breaths, but Mizuki doesn't pull anything away until Taguchi is tugging on his hair.
Everything goes as planned. He gets pulled up and pushed around, and Taguchi is tugging his shirt off at the same time as he's shoved onto his back.
“Devil lips,” he mumbles against Mizuki's throat, searches the bed for the bottle Mizuki has already used, and there's no legs to spread this time because Mizuki has them open for him even before he finds what he needs.
“Hurry,” Mizuki incites, lowers a hand to stroke himself while Taguchi works on coating his own fingers. It doesn't take more than half a minute until he has the first finger inside; Mizuki begs for the second within another couple minutes, and to begin with Taguchi isn't opposed to giving him what he wants. Mizuki is sure it's clear how worked up he is with how he squirms; Taguchi shoves his hand away when it becomes too much, grips it and holds it against the mattress probably just to see him grow impatient and bothered. Without letting go he continues pushing his fingers inside, speeds them up when Mizuki whines and bucks his hips to get them deeper.
“You're riding my fingers now? Slut.” For a second Taguchi regrets his choice of word, but the first response he gets is a vigorous roll of hips accompanied by a moan, then Mizuki tears his hand back from the hold Taguchi has on him.
“I'd rather ride your dick,” he bites back, and Taguchi nearly loses his breath when he looks up at where he's leaning onto his elbows. The grey lenses seem even more intense than before; perhaps because of the dark eye-shadow smudged by sweat, the hair that's not so styled anymore but still perfect as it spills over his bare shoulders. His lips are pointed with a smirk, but break apart to moan again when Taguchi deliberately thrusts his fingers harder.
“Why don't you?” He pulls away only to have Mizuki rolling a condom onto his cock before he has even started thinking about it himself; for a moment he expects to get pushed onto his back again, this time to be straddled, but Mizuki falls back onto the mattress with an expectant look.
“Thought I already told you to fuck me.”
Now his hair is spread against the white sheets and he's the perfect picture of gorgeous indecency, dolled up face and messy curls, dark eyes and smooth skin, legs parted wide and a hand on his own erection, every part of his body letting Taguchi know he's waiting. And Taguchi says no more, steadies himself above Mizuki before he lines up and pushes inside. He doesn't take his eyes off his face, watches how his breath hitches and his eyes flutter shut, then open again when Taguchi isn't moving, and the glare is enough to know that he doesn't want him to pause. Still, he starts out slowly, takes pleasure in the way Mizuki moves against him, how the hand on his side squeezes a little every time he buries himself all the way inside him.
It doesn't take long until Mizuki's hand stops being soft on Taguchi; he puts his nails to work, scratches down his back and again, it gives him the results he wants. Taguchi grabs his hand, pushes it away and onto the mattress. He doesn't hold it down this time, but thrusts harder, and Mizuki moans, unashamed.
“Is that all you got?” The mocking tone comes through even though he both is a little out of breath and has to pause the sentence halfway because of a particularly hard thrust. Something flashes through Taguchi's eyes, only for a split second, then he's leaning down to crush their lips together while he holds Mizuki in place with a strong hand on his waist. He doesn't seem to be holding back much in his movements, nor does he hold back his sounds, but Mizuki wants him to let go completely. It's obvious that he enjoys the piercing, nips around it, and for once Mizuki actually enjoys that attention, too. This guy is different from the ones he usually hooks up with, yet he suspects that there is something inside him that is just waiting to be unleashed. Something that isn't so different from what Mizuki is used to. And since he's used to it, he knows exactly how to unleash it.
So he does. He opens his mouth, takes Taguchi's lower lip between his own, sucks on it lightly before he takes it between his teeth and bites into it instead. That's all he needs to do. Taguchi pulls back and away, and before Mizuki knows it himself, he's being pulled around, feels a light slap over his ass as finds himself with face down and stomach pressed against the mattress; only for his hips to be lifted just the slightest before Taguchi pushes back in.
“Mmh,” he groans into the mattress, feels Taguchi's hands dig into his hips as he thrusts, hard enough that he slides up the bed a little, but he's not so weak that he can't hold himself up at all.
“Slut,” Taguchi repeats, and Mizuki shivers at the word because it's hitting so right and he doesn't mind it the least. He can hear Taguchi close above him, assumes he has leaned forwards and yes, next there's a hand coming down on the bed next to Mizuki's shoulder. “That good?”
“Harder,” he challenges, although he doesn't really need it; he's already hot and aching.
“Touch yourself,” is all he gets back, and although it's difficult in this position, more or less pressed against the bed, he forces his hips up a little further and gets a hand around himself.
When he comes he couldn't care the least about dirtying the undoubtedly expensive sheets; all he knows is Taguchi, full and perfect inside of him, one rough hand in his hair pulling his head backwards to hear him voice his pleasure, and when he collapses entirely onto his front Taguchi is pulling out and rolling him over again. He's pretty certain what's going on when he hears the condom being pulled off, feels the bed shift, and he's already parting his lips when Taguchi pushes the head of his cock against them. The first spurt of come hits his upper lip; he lifts his head and takes the rest inside his mouth. His instincts tell him to swallow, but when he glances upwards Taguchi's eyes says not to; a moment later he's down next to Mizuki tasting himself in his mouth. It's messy, but Taguchi is into it and when he pulls back, there's something so very content on his face.
“So damn hot,” he mumbles, strokes Mizuki's lower lip with his thumb, pushes some remaining white back into his mouth before he pulls playfully on the metal jewelry. “Wish I could get one myself.”
Mizuki takes a good look at him; that's another thing Taguchi says that makes him think he's not just anyone. “Why can't you?”
“Because I'm an idol? Gotta leave something to the rockers. I'm piercing enough as I am.” He winks stupidly to emphasize the pun but Mizuki doesn't bat an eyelash at that, because suddenly he knows exactly who this guy is and why he had seemed so familiar. That he's not some indie idol, either. That he sees his face on billboards he can only dream of, every time KAT-TUN releases something new.