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When the air is so thick with energy that the taste coats his tongue, Naoya can finally let loose. It's musky and heavy, full of alcohol and the writhing of bodies, but he loves it that way.
He's used to stink. Half the men on the Zen'in estate don't bathe enough and the other half endure so much brutal training they always smell like sweat anyway... when they don't smell like blood.
This scent is just as heavy, but fresher, and freer.
The first time he stepped into the club he stuck up his nose, and grimaced at the extravagant fashion choices by the people all bunched in the middle, swaying and bouncing to a beat he could feel like a bump in his chest.
He hardly felt underdressed in his t-shirt and form-fitting slacks, because even in simple clothes he looked far better than everyone else in the club... and then the first drink came from an average-looking guy at the edge of the bar. No idea how to react, he sips at it without looking again. About fifteen minutes later another shows up... but it's from another guy at the other end of the bar.
He wasn't expecting it, but once it started happening, the approach of mediocre men willing to spend their money just for a moment of his time became his favorite weekend pastime.
Naoya never buys drinks for other men, because frankly none of them are up to par which led to his short-reaching reputation in the club for being the handsome snobbish guy with blond hair and a tight impenetrable asshole.
The drinks don’t slow down though. In fact, they become more frequent and his love of attention eventually takes him to the dance floor. The eyes on him as he moves feel good. They can look all they want but no one can touch... well sometimes they can touch. There's something about a stranger's hands on his hips and waist that gets him fired enough to let them stick their tongue in his mouth. Still, no one manages to get his pants off.
Naoya’s tried to imagine some men on top of him, but every time he does he gets a strange feeling in his gut. Like the idea of just any man spreading his legs and inching their way into his ass feels like an insult.
There’s only one man in the world he’d let pull apart his thighs, but he hasn’t seen him in years. The day Toji left sits like a bruise that just won’t heal, tender to the touch and yet he sometimes prods it for a bit of feeling. Teasing the ache is better than forgetting about him.
He’ll never forget Toji.
And part of him hopes they’ll run into each other. It’s a possibility. He’s heard, before Toji left, that he spent a ton of his time in Tokyo at night. When he wasn’t wasting yen in pachinko parlor’s he was flirting with women that looked like they had a nice, tidy bed. Deep in his core, Naoya sometimes hoped that his cousin would show up one of these days, taking a break from the purses to lay with a cute boy who’d give him the world.
Naoya sometimes dreams that he’ll get his chance to cozy up to his side and become something more than another one of Naobito’s prideful little bastards. But when he gets on the dance floor tonight, he lets the thoughts drift away. He enjoys the man he’s got with him, whose hands are wandering slowly, carefully, like he’s got hold of a rare prize, and if he’s too forward, he’ll slip right out of his grasp.
Which is true. The man’s cutting it close when he traces the belt buckle and gives it a little click. Naoya will have to end this soon, go back to the bar, and–Through the sea of bodies, he catches a glimpse of green, a shade he's familiar with, and scratches an itch in his memory so intense he whips his head around to follow.
And there he is.
It's the first falter in Naoya’s crooked grin, his snarky smirks, and the condescension oozing from his lifted brows. Never did he imagine seeing Toji leaning against the bar on his elbows, figure long and muscular, wearing an unassuming tight black t-shirt and pants.
And he's looking right at him, sizing him up with interest.
He'd thought he'd seen the last of him when he up and left the estate, leaving nothing but the threat of their destruction in his wake.
But the look in his eyes, scanning his figure.
He doesn't recognize me.
It hits him with both relief and a brush of fury. How dare he not remember me! But the longer he waits the more apparent it becomes. He’s looking at me. He’s really looking at me. What comes after is a high so sudden he thinks he might dart across the room and throw himself into Toji's arms, but no he can't do that. He has to play it cool! So Naoya gives the man behind him a few more seconds of blissful attention before he steps away, though the guy doesn't get the hint and follows him toward the bar. When they get there, he's pressed to the edge of it, and he lets out a huff.
"Back up," he snaps.
The man behind flinches, and his hips pull away. Naoya doesn't bother to look but he knows the guy has finally figured out. He won't be getting lucky tonight, at least not with him.
With the pressure gone, Naoya waves down the bartender, who comes carrying a drink. He sets it down in front of him and points. Naoya follows his finger, and his heart slams into his ribcage. He tries to restrain his grin, but the edges of his lips work against him, twitching and itching to rise. Because nothing in the world feels as satisfying as realizing Toji is buying him a drink. He collects the glass and takes a big sip. He can't run to him too fast; he's got to savor this moment before he finally hears his deep, smooth voice again. Maybe he'll get to feel his breath on his ear. The idea sends a tingle down his nape and he takes another lingering sip.
But he can't keep him waiting too long. Naoya weaves through the throng of people directly toward the tall figure lounging against the end of the bar. He sees others approach Toji with hunger in their eyes, and his pace picks up, but they walk away as quickly as they come.
Good. They should know he doesn't belong to them tonight, he belongs to me!
Naoya can’t hear anything above the beat of his own heart, even the music fades into the background. The entire bar fades away because once he’s within earshot he can see his eyes drifting back to him. Toji’s scarred lips are in a calm line, not a smile, and Naoya can’t stand it. Did he misunderstand? He couldn’t have, why else would he buy him a drink? Or was it all a ploy and he does actually recognize him?
Naoya will just have to make the leap.
"You just gonna stare all night?" he snaps at his cousin, and his heart rate skyrockets again, palm starting to sweat around the glass when the edge of Toji’s mouth quirks up in a crooked grin.
"You came to me didn't you?"
Can he lick the air? Taste the first words he’s spoken? I did come to you. I’ll always come to you.
"Thought you were going to burn a hole through me.” Naoya tries to roll his eyes, wanting to keep his cool and the untouchable aura, but his shoulders are tensed up. He’s hovering closer to Toji despite his pathetic attempts at seeming uninterested.
“Might have,” Toji says and his arm slides along the bar as if making space for a body to come in close. As if inviting Naoya to his side and Naoya’s eyes lock onto it. That open spot. It’s for him. “If you stayed on the dance floor with the skinny guy. Lucky me, you didn’t.”
Naoya takes a step in, tonguing the rim of his glass as he takes another sip. He can be smooth. He can avoid embarrassing himself.
“Lucky you,” he repeats back.
This is new, unventured territory. Is he really being pursued by Toji or is this just another dream? His eyes lock onto thick fingers lightly tapping the edge of the bar and he aches to slot himself right against the bridge of his arm.
"Don't stand so far away,” Toji says and his teeth flash in a smile.
Naoya gulps hard, resisting the urge to rush in.
"Pull me closer then," he tries with a slight wobble in his voice.
But before he realizes it, there’s a hand on his waist, jerking him forward and he almost stumbles, nearly knocking into a stool before he meets a solid chest. Cotton fabric brushes his bare arms, he is instantly hit with the heat of Toji’s body, the scent of cheap cologne and cigarette smoke filling his nostrils and sticking to the roof of his mouth.
Every nerve on his body lights up and when he looks, he’s staring right into a pair of darkened jade eyes.
"You playing hard to get?" Toji asks, the fingers of his hand in the small of Naoya’s fanning out slowly, drawing him in ever closer.
"What makes you think I should be easy?" Naoya squeaks out, but he’s gone wide-eyed and dreamy.
Their bodies fit so perfectly together he’s thinking this is how it was always meant to be. They were always meant to be. But he’s briefly distracted by his cousin’s face closing in. For a second, he thinks he’s about to be kissed and is only slightly disappointed that Toji veers to the side so they’re nearly cheek to cheek.
“You don’t want to make it easy for me, baby?” Toji purrs and Naoya lights up again, this time a firecracker about to explode into a million scattering sparks.
“I didn’t say that!” he replies, completely forgetting the “coolness” he wanted to exude that is quickly replaced by the vim and vigor of a horny virgin.
He squirms against him, one tentative hand rests against Toji’s abdomen and the hard lines of muscles under his palm nearly make him whimper. He’s so strong, he hasn’t done a thing but yank him closer, but he’s sure he could be a ragdoll on his grip.
Naoya downs the last of his drink and puts the glass on the counter, wanting both hands on Toji’s chest now. It’s a prime opportunity. He can’t waste it.
“Could have fooled me with that attitude,” Toji speaks and Naoya hears him, but he’s busy feeling up on his chest. He doesn’t see the slight perk of an eyebrow, but he does let out a sharp gasp when his ass gets palmed. “I know what you need.”
“Do you?” his voice trembles and he chews his lip, hips pushing back into his hand. One slight adjustment and he can feel something against his stomach. Toji’s belt drags against him, but just beneath is the thing he’s desperate for.
“I got it right here.” Toji’s hips rock forward and Naoya grips his shirt tight.
Fuck. He hasn’t even asked his name, does he know? Does it matter now?
“Are you gonna give it to me?” he asks softly, melting, easy as can be for him.
“Meet you in the bathroom, middle stall, and I will.” Toji straightens up and Naoya stands with him, gazing up with excited eyes.
He doesn’t think twice about it.
“Don’t make me wait,” Naoya says, giving his shirt one more definitive squeeze before he pushes off.
It can’t be a trick. It won’t be a trick. And he’s too busy thrumming with anticipation that he doesn’t question it, pushing through the crowd to the thankfully quiet bathroom. He nearly runs into a pair of men making toward the exit with smiles on their faces.
Naoya makes it into the middle stall and before he can wonder if Toji’s going to come in here with him he sees a square of metal set against the wall with two longer slender fasteners. He’s heard of this… and he can hardly believe it, but he reaches out with hesitant fingers and slides it aside. It is. A hole is cut out of the stall wall with another metal slab on the other side.
Holy shit.
While Naoya’s coming to terms with what’s about to happen, the sound of the stall beside him opening sends a rush to his gut, his cock filling and pressing up against the zipper of his skintight pants. It’s finally time, he’s wanted this for so long, and when there’s a knock he knocks back almost too quickly. The hammer double times when the built-in slot for the glory hole opens on the other side. As he peers through he sees large, thickly veined hands and hears the familiar sound of a buckle clinking as it’s undone.
His mouth waters, breath heavy as he watches the dark underwear pull away to reveal flushed skin. A heaving reddened tip slides through the hole, and god he barely fits. Naoya swipes his lips until they’re wet, holding in a moan at the sight of precum pearling out from his slit.
He wants to savor this.
Before the precum can trickle off Toji’s cock Naoya puts both hands on the wall, flattens his tongue and licks it away.
He hears a whispered curse, and his eyes almost roll into the back of his head. The taste is better than he imagined, salty and bitter and Toji.
“Fuck, don’t tease me baby,” his cousin’s voice reaches him through the narrow wall.
How could he argue that? One look, one glance turns him to putty, but the chance to worship, the chance to show Toji what he could do for him, is too good to pass up.
Naoya fists Toji’s cock, lips quivering before he takes the head back past them. There’s a throb against his tongue, proof that the heat of his mouth is a pleasure to the man he wants to satisfy. His focus stays on the bulbed tip, cushioning with his tongue and slurping gently only it, suctioning his lips, moaning as he does. He can almost feel Toji’s hips shiver on the other side and he wishes he could put both hands on them. He wants to stare up at him, watch his face twist as he provides the hot bed of his mouth to him and no one else.
Because bobbing his head on a cock while sitting on a toilet seat is not something he’d do for anyone else. He catches another curse hissed on the other side and Naoya realizes he could do this forever if it’s what Toji wants from him. More precum rolls out and onto his tongue. He swallows it down greedily and pulses his lips around the tip.
He should keep going, try to deep throat him, anything more. If he’s good enough, maybe he’ll stay, maybe they’ll spend the night together, but as Naoya tries and struggles to take more of him into his mouth, he realizes he does, in fact, have a gag reflex.
He pulls off for a second, coughing, throat flexing around nothing because of the intrusion.
“Take it slow, baby. Breathe through your nose, you can do it.”
Oh.
A whine pulls from his lips and he tries, almost too eager. He struggles again to get past the first couple of wide inches. Another sigh drifts out from behind the wall and he makes one feeble attempt to follow the advice given to him, but the drinks are getting to his head. It’s muggy and tears are welling at the corners of his eyes. He can’t focus, but won’t give up just yet.
“Do what you were doing before, don’t force it down.”
Naoya nods as if Toji can see him and relaxes with his lips fastened around the tip, sucking, he moves his sweating hand up and down Toji’s length.
“Fuck, that’s good, keep doing that.”
He could fucking cry.
So intent on bringing Toji his pleasure, he’s completely unaware of how hard he is and how much precum he’s leaked into his underwear. His hips writhe on the toilet seat as if to unconsciously get some friction to his own ache.
“Damn,” Toji breathes and Naoya’s eyes squint open. “That ass as tight and hot as that mouth, baby?”
Oh. Oh fuck.
He slurps off and stands faster than he can catch his breath. Naoya undoes his belt buckle and drops his pants, not a thought in his mind aside from taking Toji inside him. The cool air of the restroom hits his stiff cock and he gasps, clutching himself for a moment and giving a tiny bit of relief to the throb before facing the stall wall.
He’s never done this before and has no concept of the necessary prep, so he braces one palm against the opposing wall, breathing hard, sweat dripping down his brow as he positions his bare ass to Toji’s cock waiting through the hole.
Naoya doesn’t care if he’s ruined for the rest of his life, this will be worth it. The pain, the blood, he’ll never get fucked again but what does that matter when the only dick he’d ever let in is pressing right against his tight little asshole.
“You gotta relax baby,” he hears on the other side and it almost infuriates him how difficult this is.
“I’ve got it,” he calls back in a shaky voice and tries again, exhaling slowly through his nose and hoping something, anything will give.
Suddenly, the pressure on his asshole is gone, his cheeks meet the cold metal wall and he gasps, jolting forward, pushing off on his palms he turns to see the hole is empty.
Oh no oh no, panic sets in. He’s going to leave.
“Uh-” The sounds on the other side are too faint to make out. Is he zipping his pants back up? Is he fixing his belt? Is he leaving now? Because he can't take it right away? No, he has to do something, anything, to keep him from leaving. But then he hears a little sigh and the door swinging open.
"Unlock your door, baby," Toji says and Naoya forgets he's got his pants around his thighs and does it immediately. Thankfully, Toji's body blocks the opening enough no one can see him, not that anyone has come into the restroom. Or at least Naoya has been far too busy to notice.
He backs up as Toji steps in, his heart racing hard enough that he thinks it's about to burst right out from beneath his ribs. Now that he's close again, there's not a thought in his head aside from him, not a thought but bending over and letting him have his way.
"Little too tight to do it through a wall," Toji says and his hand lands on a bare hip. "Had to get closer."
Naoya swallows hard and reaches out to palm at his cousin's shirt. There's more body heat, more scent, his towering form eclipsing the door and everything else.
"You can get as close as you want," Naoya says stupidly, but he can't hear himself when Toji moves forward. His eyes track down his face to his lips and land on the scar.
A kiss. Can he have a kiss?
Toji’s hand cups his cheek and his jaw loosens, hopeful, needy, watching his mouth and dreaming of it. There’s a moment of silence between them he doesn’t notice because he’s so busy studying every line and groove in the skin of his lips. He’ll remember it later, repaint it in his mind while he kisses his own palm, a feeling that’ll always be a dream.
He doesn't realize it's happening until there's warmth against his mouth, soft and plush, just slightly rough. His eyes widen. A flourish of heat so primal and unfamiliar, he moans loudly. Naoya pushes into Toji, hands flying up to cup the back of his head and keep him there, right where he wants him. Right where he's always ached to have him. Lips to lips, his core turns to a puddle. His tongue swipes out to taste him, and he finds himself bowed back over the toilet, a large hand in the small of his back and teeth dragging his bottom lip. Toji leaves a sweet, stinging feeling that radiates back through his jaw and washes his skin with heat. He can't take anymore. He can't wait anymore.
Even if it's over a toilet, he has to have him, take him, every last inch.
"Mm, fuck me," he whispers into his lips. Once, twice, a dozen times. Where they are slips from his mind and he's turned, facing the filthy wall, but he braces again anyway.
Toji chuckles and the kiss he leaves on the back of his neck makes him shiver. Naoya arches his back in, spreads, knowing he'd never think of being in this position for any other man. He hears Toji spit before a warm glob of saliva hits the valley between his ass cheeks, but the brush of his thumb down to his puckered hole takes his mind off it completely.
"Ready baby?"
"Fuck, yes," he whines at the gentle pressure of Toji's cockhead. He flexes against it, really trying this time because if he doesn't risk, then they may not make it. What if he doesn't want to take him to a hotel and open him up properly? What if he can't take him and he never sees him again?
Another bead of sweat runs down his temple and his head lurches up.
A groan of pain fills the air, his eyes rolling up at the first breach.
"Fuck," Toji hisses, and as if that was the call he was waiting for, Naoya loosens.
It's almost natural; he stretches around him harshly, and the pain runs right up the dip of his spine. His vision blurs, and his mouth falls open completely. It can't be better than this. It can't get better. It's already so good.
"So damn tight baby, you don't let just anyone in this hole, huh?"
Naoya's skin sears with new heat and it pours down his legs. They shake as Toji's cock pushes deeper into his channel.
"Never-" he breathes back, panting and watching the beads of his sweat land on the rim of the toilet beneath him into the water. His lashes flutter, and the burn smarts, like his thick cock is digging into his back.
"Oh fuck,"
"Hurts?"
"N-no, I'm fine-" he whimpers, and his nails drag against the wall. "I'm fine," he repeats like he's trying to convince himself.
Toji's hand cups over his mouth, and he goes wide-eyed, confused by the sudden movement. Is he being too loud? Does he prefer him quiet? Then Toji’s cock drags back out, leaving behind the throbbing pain of a dry stretch.
"Spit, gotta get you more wet," Toji's gruff voice is right by his ear and Naoya's lashes flutter again. He gathers as much saliva as he can before spitting it into his palm.
"Good boy."
Naoya's hole clenches around nothing, and he lets out another whine.
"Need me that bad, huh?" Toji purrs, and Naoya nods, chewing at his bottom lip.
It still hurts, but he'll take it. Fuck it if he's ripped open in a dirty bar bathroom. This time, the fingers at his hole are much slicker, a combination of his and Toji's spit. It's perfect. It's exactly what it should be, both of their flavors melding together into one. Both of their bodies becoming one.
The tip of Toji's finger edges in and he exhales softly. It's much easier. He spreads open willingly, awaiting another, his hips full-blown shake when Toji's finger touches a smooth grouping of nerves. His cock, hanging half-hard under him twitches back to life, and a yelp sounds from his open mouth.
"Like that?"
"Oh fuck-" White sears across his vision, and he has to adjust before he accidentally loses his balance and smashes his face onto the toilet below. "Yes- yes- yes."
Toji chuckles and touches again, gently like he's teasing open a lover and Naoya's mind whirls. He repeats the word yes over and over, precum leaking from his bulbed tip.
"Mm- not- Don't make me cum yet!" His toes curl as the coil in his gut becomes dangerously tight. He looks back at him with watery, hazy eyes. "I want to cum on you."
Naoya doesn't know what to make of the silence, the short huff, a faint exhale he might not have heard if he was breathing any louder. But he hopes it’s good. He hopes he likes it.
"Cute," Toji says and Naoya's whole body swoops with giddy. His eyes go wide and he opens his mouth to shape some kind of reply, but before he can, Toji replaces his fingers with his cock, lining up and sinking back in.
Naoya pushes forward again, cheek nearly hitting the wall. A sharp-pitched cry fills the bathroom stall. But it doesn't stop. Toji's hips keep going forward until Naoya's bowlegged over the porcelain, shoes verging into the stalls on either side. His eyes roll up. Breath knocked out of him. He blacks out for one second. Just one. The sheer force of will brings him back and he's 100% sure that every last inch of Toji's massive cock is buried inside his ass.
"You wanna cum on me?"
His mind swirls again as Toji's fingers curl over his shoulder.
"Yes," Naoya whispers back, voice tiny, choked.
“Then cum on me.”
Toji’s hips pull back slowly, then snap forward and Naoya bows in. It’s stars again, black spots in his vision the bathroom wall isn’t real anymore. Nothing else is real but Toji’s cock. Again. Slowly drags back, then snaps forward so that his spine curves like a string being plucked.
It hurts. It burns. It’s sharp, aching pain, but Toji’s cock head strokes that same heated spot, glides right across it and the heat in his gut shoots to his fingers and toes.
“Oh- oh f-” Naoya’s voice cuts off at the next thrust, just another wordless moan.
“You’re good at this,” Toji’s voice is gravely and deep, but it’s clear. He feels good. He’s enjoying this.
That’s all Naoya could ever want.
“Taking it like a pretty whore should,” Toji says and the next snap rings through every part of Naoya’s body. “And this ass.” Those strong fingers he longs to lick and suck get a firm grip on a cheek and knead it quickly. “Fucking perfect.” Thrust.
Naoya lurches again, his impossibly hard cock dripping with cum all the way down to his balls and making a mess of his underwear.
“Damn good, baby.”
Just when he thinks Toji’s going to pause, just when he thinks he’s getting a moment for clear air to slip in, Toji drives forward into him with steady rhythmic thrusts.
Oh god- Naoya’s forehead finally touches the tile, a cool relief to the burning sweat on his skin. Toji’s belt clicks, the dark hair at his base sticky with saliva and tickling his ass cheeks at every impact. The slap of skin and soft labored pants of his cousin fucking into him are all just music, better than anything he’s ever heard.
Toji’s cock twitches inside him and his head falls as if he’s lost his strength. Incoherent moans fill the air from his open mouth, and drool runs off his lips but he’s so far gone, he doesn’t care. He’s in bliss. The pain makes the moment better. He can’t imagine this perfect moment without a little pain, without a little reminder when he wakes up the next morning.
God, he can’t wait to feel it tomorrow.
Because it isn’t a dream that Toji’s hands are holding him in like he’s a fuckdoll, pulling him back to meet every thrust. Heat condenses so perfectly in his gut. His pitch rises. The pace quickens. His eyes go wide. The peak is coming. Fast. Too fast. He doesn’t want it to end. He wants to stay right here. Forever.
But Naoya can’t manage a word. Toji’s grip bruises, and despite his desperation to prolong it, Naoya can’t hold it back. His head rises, eyes too. A final moan-like sound slips out and the tension snaps. He cums, cock shooting out streams of white onto the wall and porcelain below.
Toji’s thrusts continue, jostling him as he rides out his peak, but he makes no complaints. His mind is utterly blank to anything but his cousin snapping into him one last time, groaning low and throaty. It’s coming. He waits with a stupid dazed smile as Toji paints his insides in his spend. Even then he still moves, cum squelches out of Naoya’s asshole and he feels it running down his thighs.
He tries to formulate a thought, string together one sentence just to hear Toji whisper back to him in a voice still drunk on the pleasure his body provided. His arms are shaking and he pushes up, looking back when Toji’s cock slides out messily.
He turns his smile on him.
“Not bad, Naoya.” Toji lets out a laugh.
Naoya’s eyes are dreamy for only a moment longer.
Naoya. Naoya. He said Naoya.
His eyes go wide as saucers and he sees a leather square in Toji’s raised hand.
Is that… my wallet?
His mouth drops open but he still can’t find a reply when his wallet gets tossed onto the floor beside him, just missing the toilet basin.
“You-”
“Thanks for the cash.”
Naoya doesn’t get a second to gather himself before Toji’s already zipped up and out the stall door. It swings back in and lands with a loud, definite clang. The sound rattles the walls and him as well. He tries to straighten and a sharp pain runs up his spine.
He curses and finally loses his balance. It’s a whirlwind of limbs until he manages to steady himself with his bare ass on the toilet seat and his hands on either wall. He stares dumbfounded at the stall door, left with nothing in his wallet and an ache in his freshly deflowered asshole.
Down the street, Toji strolls under dozens of striking neon lights and clusters of red signs, ignoring the call of the various workers on the street trying to entice drunk businessmen to pay for expensive drinks and scantily clad company. He counts the cash, grinning from ear to ear. Of course, his baby cousin was loaded, and of course, those big, shiny gold eyes went soft and needy for him the moment he let his voice become a drowsy purr in his ear.
Toji’s surprised, though. He didn’t expect him to have such a nice ass.
Maybe he’ll pay him another visit.