Plot? What plot? Is there a plot? Possibly. Depends. Would you like one?

Best read while listening to Skin by Rihanna. Cuz...inspiration

He licked his lips. Hands braced against the door, he cocked his hips to one side as he gazed down at me.

My mouth felt dry, like I had been chewing cotton. I clenched my hands into fists on the bed, trying to control them from shaking. Shaking with a mad desire to grab that body and claim it as mine, mine, all mine.

He smirked. He knew. He knew what I wanted to do to him. How I wanted to kiss those tulip lips, to ravish that slender neck, to spread those sinfully long legs wide open and just fuck him to the moon and back.

God, I wanted to do all that and more.

Hurry, I begged, pleaded, screamed in the empty chambers of my mind. Please just hurry. Come here. Stand in front of me. Let me hold you. Let me touch you. Let me confirm that you are here and that for tonight, just this one night, I can have you.

His leather jacket squeaked as he dropped his arms. The only light in the room was the soft yellow streaming behind him, wrapping him in shadows. He looked at home in the dark, like it was his element. Nobody could see him that way. Like he never existed. He could go anywhere he wanted, unchained and untamed. A wild animal, a lone wolf. Few were privileged to get this close to him. And those who were, they wanted nothing more than to treasure him and wished time would slow down for that one moment.

He sauntered in, hips swaying hypnotically, his pace so excruciatingly slow I wanted to scream. But I couldn't speak. I couldn't call out. I couldn't show weakness. Because one slip and it would all be over. The wolf would run off, leaving me to wallow in this darkness, alone and cold.

A pair of jean-clad legs parked themselves between my open ones. I bit back a moan. The heat from his body was making me shudder with pleasure. My cock hardened.

I looked up. Curious, slate-gray eyes peered down at me from under a shaggy black mane. I licked my lips, and raised my hands to hover at his waist, never once breaking eye contact. I was trembling all over. But I controlled myself, focused on him as if asking for permission.

A moment trickled by. When he nodded I almost cried. I settled my hands on his slim waist. And yanked him roughly so that he was flush against my body. He gave a breathy laugh, shaking his jacket off, and clumsily wrapped bare, sinewy arms around my neck.

Every part of me that was in contact with his skin was on fire. I didn't waste time. I shoved his shirt up, licking every inch of him, drinking in the sight of his naked chest, recording every gasp he uttered for future masturbation material. I rolled my body against his, making sure he felt my hard cock. Making sure he knew what he was doing to me.

I fell back on the bed, pulling him along. The covers felt cool against my bare back. I cupped the back of his head, holding him steady as I nibbled his throat. I tasted his sweat. The nectar of the Gods.

He hovered above me, his forearms on either side of my head. His loose shirt hung low, feathering my naked skin and giving me a good peek inside. He was barely touching me, teasing me. I growled against his skin. He chuckled before finally settling comfortably on my lap, my throbbing cock fitting nicely between his firm buttocks.

I bucked desperately. He hummed in satisfaction, pulling his tank top off. That did nothing to tame my libido. In fact, he was turning it into a raving maniac.

He was a sight. He was a fucking beautiful sight.

I wanted more.

I ran a hand over his flat stomach. He twitched. I traced the hard muscles forming on that adolescent figure. Suddenly, I stopped. He had placed a hand over mine. I looked up and swallowed. Needy eyes swept over me, overwhelming me with their lust. Their owner was breathing hard, licking his lower lip. Slowly, he guided my hand lower until it was cupping his arousal through his jeans. I squeezed. He gasped, biting his lip. He glared at me.

I resisted a smirk. I couldn't deny I enjoyed those moments of domination. Where he gave in to his pleasure and needed me, wanted me. The very idea sent a chill down my spine.

I began to stroke him, watched his body relax under my touch. He began to pant, slowly rolling his head back and exposing his throat to me. My mouth watered. I sat up quickly, startling him. Grabbing a handful of those ebony locks, I jerked his head to the side. He hissed. I didn't care.

I leaned in and inhaled deeply. He smelt earthy, like a pine tree. I dragged my tongue from collarbone to ear. He shivered, a strangled cry escaping him. My lips curled.

I had him. It didn't matter what I did now. He was too far gone to care. I had given up a long time ago though.

I rolled us over, sprawling his skinny frame across the thin sheets. Working methodically, I unbuckled his belt and pulled his jeans off. The underwear went next.

He just watched me behind lidded, lusty eyes, lips parted, chest heaving. His cock, already at full mast, twitched towards me, precum leaking out the tip. His entire body was flushed, like a fresh peach waiting to be picked.

I parted those lovely, long legs and occupied the space between them. My arousal brushed his inner thigh. He whimpered. The sound went straight to my cock and it took all my will power to control the hungry beast inside me.

I didn't want it to be over. I didn't want it to end. Because once it was, I'd feel empty again. Why couldn't we stay like this forever?

I knew I was drunk. I was so fucking drunk on the sight of him. I didn't have him. He had me. He had me good.

I inhaled deeply as I lined my leaking tip to his puckered entrance. And thrust forward. He arched his back, his voice caught in his throat. I winced. Oh sweet fuck, he was tight. I almost came right there.

I realized I was still holding my breath. I exhaled slowly and rubbed his lower back. He gradually sunk back into the sheets except he was panting hard, like he had just run a marathon. Sweat beaded his forehead, eyes scrunched in pain. My heart twanged guiltily.

'Hey,' I whispered gently. He peered up at me behind a lock of hair. I forced a smile. 'Relax. It'll hurt if you're all tensed up.'

He raised an eyebrow. Then, he went back to staring at the ceiling. He was starting to breathe normally again.

'Just hurry up, old man,' he bit out icily.

My smile dropped. His words cut me like glass.

At least he loosened up a little so I could move inside him. But hey, I was in no hurry. If I could deal with his immature apathy, he could deal with my senility.

I pulled out slowly, letting him feel all of me. Then I rammed in. Hard. He yelped in pain. His hands shot up above his head to grab the headboard.

'Fucker…' he breathed. Now it was my turn to chuckle.

I kept that same agonizing pace, pulling out slow before driving into him to the hilt. It was my turn to torture him and goddamn it I was going to enjoy every minute of it.

The bed creaked with each thrust, punctuated by a keening whine from those soft lips. He thrashed about, bucking against my cock. He was stuck between cursing me out and begging me to go faster.

'Fucking hell…faster…please…just a little…bastard…I need…I need…' he panted. He looked like he was about to cry. For some reason, it thrilled me to see him in so much anguish.

I held him down by the waist to stop him wriggling and kept the slow rhythm. Now he was really crying.

Fat, crocodile tears streaked down his face, mingling with his sweat. He feebly attempted to loosen my grip but gave up to grab the headboard when I would thrust so hard his head would bang against it. He sniffled loudly, refusing to look at me like some stubborn child. For once, since he entered the room, he actually looked his age.

My chest tightened.

I was getting close. The way he was whimpering and clenching around me, I knew I wasn't going to last long.

Suddenly, his hands flew to my shoulders, nails digging into my flesh as he pulled himself up to meet me. His breath was hot on my ear. I shuddered.

'Kensei,' he moaned. 'Please…let me cum…'

And I was gone.

I growled, wrapping an arm around him to press his sweaty skin against mine. He felt hot to the touch, and sensitive from the way he whined in my ear. Working quickly, I grabbed his arousal and began to jerk him off, matching the speed to my thrusts. This earned me the most delightful whimpers since we started fucking.

His hands scrambled across my back, his lips fervently pecking the junction between neck and shoulder as if hoping it will make me go faster. He began to lick a spot, like an eager puppy with a new bone. Then, without warning, he bit in. Teeth broke through the skin.

Pain and pleasure flooded my body as I came inside him. At the same time, he spurted all over my hand, body convulsing from wave after wave of pleasure.

I felt extremely light-headed from my release. I keeled over him, panting hard into his ear as my heart jackhammered against my chest.

He draped a forearm over his eyes. Then he peeked out at me from under it.

'You're an asshole, you know that?' he remarked dryly. I rolled my eyes. Trust him to still have the coherency to insult me after sex.

'Well, you're special like that,' I grunted. He snorted.

I locked eyes with him. My breath caught in my throat as I watched those gray irises shift under the light, and wondered what was going on behind them.

And his lips…they looked so inviting. So soft and plump, just begging to be kissed. I leaned down, completely dazed, to grant them their wish.

'Stop.' I did, hearing something shatter in the distance. I opened my eyes and flinched. He was scowling at me, eyes hardened.

He rolled out from under me. I moved quickly to avoid being poked in the eye. He sat on the edge of the bed, pulling on his jeans and black top. I watched him go about redressing himself. He sure was in a hurry to leave. Like staying in the same room as me for a single minute would infect him with something. Though if you ask me, it didn't really matter. We were already dirty.

He paused at the door. His hands clenched into fists.

'Don't get too sentimental, old man,' he said coldly. 'Or it's over.'

My heart leapt into my throat. All I managed was a nod. He didn't bother to look back and just walked out, closing the door behind him. I was engulfed in darkness. Suddenly I felt tired, emotionally, mentally, and physically.

I glanced at my wristwatch. I still had time before I had to join Lisa for dinner. I lay back, eyes fluttering shut.

I damn well needed a nap after that roller coaster of fuckery.

The guy at the love hotel desk eyed me skeptically as I placed my room keys on the table along with the room rental cash. I scowled at him.

'What?' I growled. He shrugged.

'Nothing,' he said simply, counting the money to make sure everything was there. 'You just look like you've seen better days.'

I rolled my eyes. I came here pretty often. This was the first time we were making small talk, which was bizarre and uncomfortable. I turned to leave.

'The missus mind you being here?'

What the fuck?

'That's none of your fucking business.'

'True. But I don't know many idiots who come in still wearing their wedding rings.'

'I'm not married.'

'Ah. Engaged then. How nice.'

'Fuck you.'

He shrugged again. 'Saying it as I see 'em, mate. Can't hate me for that.'

I didn't know what to say next. I just left without another word. Didn't matter to me. Guess I had to find another hotel to haunt. Great. And that one had been so convenient.

I twisted my engagement ring on my finger. I don't know why I wore it when I went to the hotel. What was I trying to prove? That I was still faithful? That I still loved Lisa even though I was fucking-

Stop up, I scolded myself. Stop trying to come up with excuses for yourself. You know what you're doing. You know it's wrong. But you can't help it, can you? You're just a sick, old man. Just fucking admit it already and stop pretending that you're a good man. Even HE knows it. And he's a kid.

A kid. Just a fucking kid. Oh dear God, what the hell was I doing?

Somehow I found my way to Lisa's. I stared miserably at her front door. I heard soft, muffled laughter behind the door. I recognized Lisa's voice. The other voice was probably her daughter, Mashiro, pattering about with her dolls.

She was such a wholesome woman, looking for a wholesome man to take care of her and her kids. And she got me instead.

I swallowed and forced myself to finally knock.

Silence. Then, feet thumped towards the entrance. The door creaked open. My nails bit into my palms.

Wicked gray eyes surveyed me, their owner leaning casually against the doorframe. He was still wearing that goddamn shirt.

The boy sighed. 'Mom!' he called out, walking away without even inviting me in. 'Kensei's here!'

I walked in mechanically. Lisa was in the kitchen, feeding Mashiro some mashed potatoes. Or rather, feeding Mashiro's shirt mashed potatoes. She clicked her tongue at her son.

'Shuu, don't call him by his first name!' she scolded. 'It's disrespectful! And besides, he's going to be your dad soon! Why don't you practice saying that instead?'

She winked at me, as if she was doing me a huge favor. I smiled faintly. I felt sick.

Shuu rolled his eyes at her before facing me. He tilted his head back, the hint of a smirk tugging at his lips. Like this was all a big joke to him. He stuck his hands in his jean pockets, jutting his hips out.

'Welcome home,' he drawled, 'Dad.'

...I seem to be obsessed with married Kenseis cheating on their wives with teenage Shuuheis, don't I?

Eh.