His tongue clicks dryly against the roof of his mouth in consideration, feeling heated but not uncomfortable under the pointed amber gaze across the room.
There it is.
The cocksure smile that slips across his lips is a reflex, but the outburst was a start as far as he was concerned. The awkward space between them had to be addressed sometime, might as well be tonight. He knew the confrontation would come eventually, even if part of him was unsure if the blonde had truly noticed until now, or was in a characteristic kind of stubborn denial. But the youth was sharp—a thing he admired—and for his part, Rokujou Chikage wasn't particularly subtle...not about these things.
He blamed himself mostly, not that he wasn't proud of it, but the chestnut-haired man was more than aware that he quite personally brought this situation about. But, it also wasn't the first, or by any means the last time that Rokujou got himself in a little deeper than he originally planned. But eh, such was life, part of what kept it interesting. He had to hand it to Ikebukuro, the city had interesting in great supply.
Not that the boy was making it easy on him. He'd been more than happy to oblige his company of course. And now that sparring was a regular habit he had a new host of problems. That's not to say it wasn't worthwhile, both an act of chivalry and good, old-fashioned entertainment. But it also brought him into physical contact with the youth, maybe just a bit more than he was prepared for.
He learned some things. While he had superior strength and endurance, the youth was fast and getting both faster and more efficient as this last round had rather well illustrated. Rokujou paused for a moment, brushing the edge of his cheek where the kick had impacted, musing about other things. How the blonde's milky skin is always cooler than his, even now when they're both heated and strained. Naturally, his eyes wandered as they often do. Or at least, he imagines that is what sparked the confrontation. The blonde had been facing away, shoulders taught under a thin tank-top, stretching casually in a manner that utterly accentuated what the older man had already come to appreciate as a particularly teasing, slender neck that now had a fine sheen of sweat that he could practically taste from here. There may have been an unexpected sound in the back of his throat. Come to think of it, that might have been what startled his companion more than the eye thing.
Needless to say, Rokujou sidles the blame on himself. He started this a few months ago by getting into what was in the larger scheme of things, a trivial fight and then more importantly, getting himself very involved by way of firing the alarm to alert the police. After which he'd promptly manhandled the leader of the yellow-scarves to safety. Without anyone's respective permission. To this day, he's not exactly sure what spurred it on.
Part of him insists that it was simply the right thing to do and was advantageous to himself... how did his ladies put it...the enemy of my enemy and so forth. Additionally, he wasn't about to let a scumbag like that Izumii prick get off scotch-free, after not only interrupting his own duel, but fighting dirty. Men should have standards after all.
The more self-aware part of Rokujou was fairly sure he was already taking a shine to the young leader, the 'shogun' of the Yellow Scarves. What a title. He could have just trusted the kid's own gang to get him to safety after all, but he didn't do that, did he? Between the blonde's eager banter and the exchange of blows there was something Rokujou found familiar. Maybe even lapsing into respect. They were alike no doubt, though he muses that Masaomi is a bit more feminine, and hell of a lot more feisty. It brings another smirk to his face when he remembers. Those honey-colored eyes widening in shock as he quite literally stole him, scooping him over his shoulder to vault to freedom below...he should have known then he was going to be in trouble.
The day led to more surprises, particularly when his casual, off-hand offer was actually accepted. He wasn't counting on that, tickled for sure, but unexpected none the less. He was used to listening, with his honies around it was something of a necessary job skill. It usually didn't play out like this though. He had offered the youth his ear and... was met with a kind of unabashed honesty he hadn't quite steeled himself. Normally people are cagey, everyone has something to hide. But not this kid. The story thus far came literally pouring out of Masaomi Kida's mouth. And for all his brass, the youth was struggling to deal with it. Badly. Making it terribly more complicated than it needed be. He'd learn later that it was a habit for the young leader. Complications.
By the end of the talk, Rokujou couldn't say he particularly understood—the situation seemed simple enough, just... unpleasant. So he made a call. Decided to help. And for a number of reasons. They were even now, fair and square since the duel was a draw, he could do as he wished and there was no doubt he could spin some advantage from this mess. Of course, though he wouldn't admit as such, not yet, curiosity was reeling it's dangerous head. If he got this much information so easily, what else could he gain?
He was lucky that curiosity wasn't the death of him this time. Rokujou was damn glad that situation was over. He's not sure if he's ever seen such a tangled mess. It's resolution has made his decision to stay a bit longer in the city much, much more inviting. He had to say, he was enjoying the ride thus far. And he's been good on his word and hasn't destroyed the place. Would you look at that.
The two leaders since have fallen into a comfortable routine sort of acquaintance as the next few weeks passed into the next few months. The trauma of events was brief as it often is in a place like this. The city moved on, as did it's players. He was finding it to compelling and a lot more distracting than he expected. Of course the blonde had something to do with that. The company was enjoyable, and Rokujou for his part, still had quite a bit to learn about the smaller, but far more convoluted city than his own.
They talked business briefly but mostly their conversations were idle shenanigans, passes at local dames and less-serious stories from their respective groups. Cheap thrills. It was liberating. Terming their meetings as friendship might have been a stretch, but Rokujou was largely more interested than he should have been. There was something about this kid. His brass, his arrogance, his eager need overcome others. The way his hair fell over his eyes and the snarky smile that served a cover for any more pressing emotions he had. He was a liar. A beautiful one.
It didn't exactly come as a surprise when Masaomi's injuries had largely recovered that the youth asked him for a rematch. An incident he could forever tease him with, Rokujou quite plainly kicked his ass. Setting the groundwork for the young leader's newest goal. Without any real intention of the sort, sparring thus became a regular hobby amidst their more varied encounters. As one day, according to Masaomi, he was gonna kick the shit outta him.
His total investment comes later. After sharing more than a few stories about his own exploits, Rokujou was floored by the blonde's lack of familiarity with a motorcycle. In a city like this? Well, he wasn't Toramaru for nothing, Rokujou could, and damn well was going to fix that. It would only be polite at this point. Of course, he had to term it as a challenge. It wasn't as though Masaomi would ever agree to being taught anything. He just prodded him persistently on his inability to drive. It worked marvelously.
The frequent company of the blonde made his boys a little uncomfortable at first, waltzing in with the leader of the Yellow Scarves like it was ordinary. They grew accustomed to the snarky blonde in short order. He had fight in him, a thing they could understand. Rokujou knew it would be that way.
As it turned out, the kid wasn't just quick-witted, he was a quick-learner and a damn natural if Rokujou ever saw one. It's a fond thought when he considers the precise moment when he realized he was doomed. Right then, when he let the slender youth onto his girl, the only one he really belonged to, his bike...that was the moment the coin dropped. The sight made his mouth go dry. Masaomi had swiped his riding jacket earlier, and set there, a confident tilt in his jaw like he owned her. His hair was windswept, a mess, bandanna pulled down about his neck. His eyes were blazing, molten-gold, un-tameable as always. And he looked so, so damn proud.
Rokujjou realized it too, that he was just as proud, standing there, staring with a swell in his chest. It was alongside a much more startling, crystal-clear realization that he was irrefutably falling in love with Masaomi Kida.
His casual interest shifted gears into conquest practically overnight.
Rokujou hadn't been entirely sure until now if the blonde had even noticed. He wasn't accustomed to Masaomi's subtler and often unclear reactions to his playful advances. He wasn't pushing too hard, he already had acted pretty boldly without permission once, he owed the youth a degree of respect this time. That said, he had never expected any girlish drama during the chase. As tantalizing as the image of the blonde blushing or gasping in response may have been, Rokujou was well aware he wouldn't behave as such. It would be a weakness, and the youth was particularly good at keeping his image firm.
And he didn't disappoint. His posture was always defiant, eyes brazen as usual. It was a treat when he'd catch a longer intake of breath when his hands lingered longer than they should have. He'd ghost over the youth's fingers on his handlebars, draw back far too slowly from a grapple, allow what should have been a friendly pat on the back to shift into a warm squeeze of the shoulder. It might not have been as forward as he was with the ladies, but it sure as hell wasn't subtle. Sometimes Rokujou was certain he'd seen those fierce eyes soften just a bit, but he may have just been daydreaming. A habit of his. The youth always turns, plays it off as ordinary. Afterall, he was a ladies-man through and through. Just like him. Masaomi certainly had mettle, and it wasn't deterring the older man whatsoever.
It had been a ordinary enough night, the abandoned warehouse largely dark outside the room they sparred in, as they finally took a breather. Rokujou was pleased, he'd taken a kick, but it was a smart one. The kid was getting better. It gave him a particularly pleasant rush, despite the wave of heat settling in the air. He'd long since discarded his coat and rolled up his pin-striped sleeves. Kept the hat of course. He continued to muse between catching breaths, trying to keep his amusement to a minimum, and quit fantasizing over the possibility that the impact might have bruised. The week all in all was ordinary even, though he'd only met up with Masaomi twice. Which was comparatively scarce to other weeks. Their outings had gotten quite regular if not exactly advertised. They trade off meals, spar, ride, occupy the time. So, he might have been getting a bit carried away and not even over a woman. Kind of ironic really. But the sight ahead of him reminded him why.
Masaomi Kida was beautiful. He'd come to that realization some time ago. He had a natural pretty-boy air, a slimmer figure, delicate hair, refined features... but there was something much more perplexing than that initial image, stirring underneath all his banter. There was guilt, and a history of blood, but mostly a need to exceed himself, one that never faltered in it's enthusiasm. The youth lived in a world of black and white extremes, his investment was all or nothing. It would probably get him killed, it nearly did once already. He was far too serious for his age, but compelling, he'd give the boy that.
Especially in moments like this. Rokujou's eyes slide over his interest lazily. The youth has pushed beyond his bodily limits to compete, straining to the point of excess, but never admitting the difficulty in any facet of his posture. Over time the older man has been able to pick up the less obvious signs, a slight tremor where a muscle is simply too taught, steady breath that skips just a bit more than usual. He notices other things too. An upward tilt to his shoulders, a push forward of the chest, a tug at the corner of his lips. Masaomi is proud of that hit, feeling accomplished, a barely there chuckle under his breath.
Assuredly, Rokujou was just as pleased at his progress. One of these days, he'd get to illustrate that more clearly. Vividly He gulps at the thought. His eyes dart to a location they often linger, following the line of sweat down the youth's jaw to that damned neck. Frustrating.
The sound at the back of his throat wasn't loud, but it may have had a needy, guttural quality that was scarcely appropriate as Masaomi's gaze snapped back towards him, a threatening glimmer.
A less-honest, more likely to play it safe sort of person might have looked away, covered his gawking with some degree of modesty, made any effort to remedy the situation. Not Rukujou Chikage. He was as good as caught, what was the point? He leaned back on his heels, hat tilting back with the motion of his head, continuing to eye the youth in apparent hunger, daring.
Masaomi's eyes were challenging, daggers, his body rigid. His voice is just as sharp when he speaks,"You are aware I have a girlfriend, right?"
Ah. There it is.
His smile is reflexive, and maybe just a bit predatory in it's confidence before he sighs, a bit exasperated. His shoulders shrug.
Here we go again, making it complicated.
He finds himself in that position again, the youth is sputtering and he has to break it down. Not that he minds, but he has better ideas on how to spend the time. It doesn't help matters that Masaomi always has this dark air of conflicted emotion when he speaks of the girl. Love should never be that difficult. He'd have to approach that topic another time, but for now, the older man keeps his tone amicable in his explanation.
"Yes, her name is Saki. You do mention it, you know. I have, let's see..." the chestnut-haired man makes a point of counting on his fingers. "Five, at the moment. If that clears something up for you, you know I like to keep it simple."
The blonde's posture falters, eyes a bit less threatening. Rokujou infers that firstly that was not the response his companion expected, and second it did not, in fact, clear something up. Amber eyes shift to the side clearly gauging the situation.
There you are opportunity. Been waiting forever.
Rokujou clears his throat and then the distance between them in a few strides, an arm quickly braced to the left of the blonde's head, letting him lean down well into the other's personal space comfortably. Cornering him might be a bit too much, but, eh, we were already here. Masaomi's eyes are somewhere between shocked and appalled at the sudden movement, reflexively backing which leads him nowhere save to the cool brick behind him. The older man is leering over him, expression amused but in no way malicious, maybe even a bit hopeful when he speaks. A tilt of the head, an eager smile.
"I have to say, I'm not certain what the connection is though. I don't think I've made any correlation between wanting you and the status of our pre-existing relationships have I?"
Once again, Masaomi Kida does not disappoint, even at such a blunt admission. He exhibits no blanket shock, no flush, no murmur, his mouth moves slightly, clearly considering his words carefully. Rokujou is pleased, this close, face hovering just above, he notes dilated pupils, a slight twinge at he corner of the youth's mouth. Lack of protest was bordering dangerously on permission as far as the older man was concerned.
Of course, Rokujou was aware this could turn on him easily. He might have been pushing his luck. He'd been slapped for less in the past by girls far less-volatile than the Yellow Scarves leader. Still, he could feel the youth's careful breathing ghosting against his skin and soak in every detail while he could. Definitely worth taking another hit for.
There's a sigh of annoyance as Masaomi rolls his eyes, "Shut up Rocchi," pushing both his palms against the other's chest with minimal pressure as a friendly gesture to back off.
It has the opposite effect as Rokojou feels his own heart rate spike, a tightening in his throat. He doesn't budge, and makes no effort to break eye contact. He swallows. There was no way he wasn't making himself perfectly clear. Not this time.
Masaomi's posture falters again as his attempt to brush the situation off fails. "Oh." His voice is a bit listless, not entirely there. Amber eyes narrow, darkening.
Yep.
There's no time for Rokujou to react as a smooth sweep kicks his feet out cleanly from under him, sending him reeling backwards. The impact of his head on the concrete is a bit sharp, but scarcely anything to worry about. He was durable to say the least. His hat rolls a few feet away as he settles on laying flat there, splayed, might as well be comfortable in his rejection. He muses with a dreamy sigh as his eyes consider the ceiling above, imagining other things.
Definitely worth the shot.
He startles at an unforeseen sensation.
Wait, what?
For the first time in a long time, Rokujou Chikage is awestruck as an unexpected weight settles over his waist. The older man shuffles up onto his elbows, wide-eyed and looking. No amount of experience prevents his heart from skipping.
Mercy...he hadn't seen this coming. Masaomi hovered over him, straddling his waist, legs locked on either side of his hips. Rokujou scans for a weapon, but doesn't find one. Curious. It's one of a handful of times in his life that Rokujou fails to produce any words. Gawking wide-eyed, mouth slack, maybe a bit overwhelmed, he stares at the youth leaning over him.
Masaomi's composure is finally revealing something, even just a bit. The blonde's body has a tremor of restraint, his breathing erratic, heavier, more difficult. He gulps, Rokujou watches that lovely throat constrict as he hovers there. There's an unfamiliar haze in those eyes, like warmed honey, caramelizing in the heat. The older man imagines he is going to drown if he doesn't look away soon. He can feel himself flushing, even if the youth isn't.
The fabric at his collar is suddenly bunched in the youth's fist, lurching him up towards him. It's not gentle. He feels the blonde's breath at the side of his neck, just below his ear. Each exhale is startlingly hot, but it's giving him chills as it hits his skin. Utterly pleasantly shock waves ripple through his body. He feels Masaomi's hips shift slightly and he intakes sharply. There's no way he hasn't noticed.
When the youth finally speaks after moments of hazy silence, his voice is low, with an undertone bordering on amusement or maybe sadism, Rokujou can't quite tell.
"Simple, huh?" He punctuates his words forcefully, though his tone is scarcely above a whisper. Strands of blonde hair trace the edges of the older man's jaw. "You're insane."
He's released as the weight promptly vanishes, and Rokujou finds his acquaintance with the concrete once again. The adrenaline is all but choking him as his heart hammers loudly in his chest. He takes a moment to breathe, ensuring that he can burn a few of those images quite firmly into his memory. In some ways, that went quite well. His mind is swimming until his thoughts are interrupted by the jangling tone of metal chiming against metal.
So, he didn't leave. Interesting...
Rokujou sits up, swiping his hat back as he does, looking for his part rather pleased. The amusement washes from his face immediately, replaced with a kind of abject horror. Masaomi is paused at the far door, leering, swirling a keyring around his index finger. His smirk is devilish at best, eyes blazing dominantly.
The older man reflexively paws his own pocket, where a familiar, exceedingly important set of keys was now absent. The patter of feet alerts him that his quarry was rapidly making his way out of the building, gunning for one thing that mattered above nearly all else to Rokujou.
That little shit!
The chestnut-haired man is scrambling to his feet, disheveled, fumbling for his discarded jacket. He nicks the edge of the door frame on his stumble out, he feels the wood splinter. He'd probably have to fix that later.
"Son of a-" he groans, running full tilt down the hallway, puling his overcoat back on as he does, aiming for the nearest exit in frenzy. The hammering in his chest had yet to still. He wasn't certain if he was facing rage or excitement, but either probably amounted to almost the same thing. He was not getting his motorcycle jacked today. Object of his affection or not. There were some lines better left uncrossed.
He hears the rev of the engine as he skids to a halt just outside the warehouse. Mounted, cocky, and looking like he owns the thing, Masaomi has the nerve to look bored. He leans exasperated over the handlebars, back arched in a way probably far more teasing than he realizes. The blonde sighs. There's a twinge of annoyance and maybe something else Rokujou can't quite identify. "Are you coming or what?" His tone is curt but almost ordinary compared to a few moments ago.
It was the older man's turn to falter, pausing in place. His brows furrow as his concerns turn inward. Meanwhile, the corners of Masaomi's mouth barely resist the upturn of a smirk.
Rokujou finds himself hashing out his own principles. He had questions about this. But those were complications right? Did they matter? Was he going or not? Or was he just going to tackle the kid right the hell off his girl?
The nerve...
Masaomi yawns adjusting his position, his voice just the slightest bit mocking. "Waiting... " He rolls his eyes in boredom. "I can just leave without you, you know."
"The hell you are," the older man's restraint crumbles as he sidles onto his motorcycle behind the youth. He chides himself, trying to ignore the potential insult of the situation.
Keep it simple Rocchi.
He wasn't sure how much he liked this idea of being forced to let the other drive. It was a personal rule he didn't appreciate breaking except of his own explicit accord. But, he didn't have much choice. One deep breath and an affirmative tap on Masaomi's arm. "Well?"
The rev of the engine served as an answer. They were off without as much as another word from the blonde.
Streets pass blindly. Rokujou doesn't pay much attention to his surroundings, continuing to muse as the blocks pass by. He doesn't know where they are going, so he supposes he couldn't right drive anyway. He resists the urge to snake his arms around the youth, knowing they would wander. Couldn't have him wrecking his baby. He sighs audibly at the shame of the whole thing.
As though reading his thoughts, his companion snips from ahead, "Now you're being polite, huh?"
Well, would you look at that?
It brings a healthy chuckle to the older man's lips, a wide smile breaking across his features as they resume a familiar kind of banter. "I'm always a gentlemen, what are you insinuating?"
Masaomi doesn't answer him, shaking his head slightly. Rokujou laments that he can't see the youth's expression. While questions may have been bouncing about in that hat of his, he settles himself into an amicable silence, working on calming his hyperactive, raw senses and enjoying the company once again.
It's nearly a twenty minute ride before Masaomi comes to halt in front of a non-descriptive building Rokujou doesn't recognize. He shuts the engine off and promptly tosses the keys over his shoulder, sliding a leg up and over and disembarking without a word.
The older man catches the keys and pockets them as he watches the youth maneuver smoothly away. Masaomi's expression is a comfortable ordinary blank as he steps forward towards the building's main door. Rokujou can read little from him at the moment, an eyebrow arches curiously as he slides off himself and follows, as his companion seems to have been waiting. As he approaches the blonde slides a card through the reader at the left of the door, a heavy click indicates that it is open and he proceeds inside.
Rokujou observes his surroundings idly as Masaomi continues to lead with no additional dialogue. A front lobby, likely apartments, efficiencies if he had to to guess. Certain pieces were definitely coming together in his mind, but he tries to steel himself against becoming too eager. After all, his earlier slip up could have cost him his bike. Spacing out again wouldn't be in his best interest. Either way, he muses positively, it's a show of trust at the least and an invitation at best. Either he could work with.
A few turns and a flight of steps later, Masaomi has stopped at another door, expression still frustratingly neutral, swiping his keycard and dialing in the number pad. A brief click and the door is open, he flips a light switch and ushers the other inside with a simple gesture. Rokujou steps inside, removing his hat and confirming that his assumption was correct as he assesses his surroundings while the door swings closed behind him. The blonde has immediately kicked off his shoes. The older man follows suit, gathering it would be polite to do the same.
The apartment is small, utilitarian, and largely bare. Far more tame than it's inhabitant. Rokojou remembers that the location is supposed to temporary, which might account for it's bland flavor. Something falls a bit in his chest at the thought. The blonde never has mentioned just how long he was planning on staying.
There's a tap on the counter as Masaomi discards his keycard and wallet, finally turning his head, looking amused at his companion, smile tugging on his lips.
"We're even now, right?"
Rokujou's head tilts to one side, disheveled red-brown hair sweeping to the side. He's not quite following.
Even?
Masaomi continues leisurely, fingers idly dragging along the counter while his expression reads as decidedly satisfied. He keeps talking.
"It's payback really...you deserved it. You stole me without permission, so...here we are. Fair is fair, right?"
It dawns on Rokujou.
I'll be damned.
He's quite been taken at his own game. Manhandled, though less directly than he had, brought here, with or without his consent.
Brilliant.
His eyes squint shut as healthy laughter erupts from the Toramaru's chest, smile once again overtaking his features. He couldn't swindle his way out of that one. "Yeah, yeah, you got me there..."
It happens quickly.
His breath is cut short as his dark eyes widen. He isn't sure when the blonde cleared the length between them, but his lips are soft but bruising against his own, fingers twisted in his jacket, pulling him closer as though the action was ever going to be necessary. He feels himself smiling against the youth's advance. The hat slips out of his fingers, hand moving to the back of the blonde's head, fingers tangling into his hair, leveraging, pulling back to give the older man better access while his other arm snakes possessively around Masaomi's waist.
Not getting away this time.
Rokujou's response is eager, though far more practiced, tongue trailing over the other's bottom lip. A slight but utterly appreciated gasp of breath was all he needed to demand access, slipping into the younger man's mouth with a shudder, met without protest. His thoughts whirl in haze. Murky. Honey. A slight tinge of salt. He could tell by the taste, this was not going to be a short fixation. The kiss is fervent, needy, and goes on for too long, even as Masaomi's fingers are already tugging the edges of his jacket over his shoulders.
He finally pulls away for air, which seems to be appreciated as the blond is breathing heavily against him. A tinge of color finally staining his features. Their bodies still crushed together despite the reprieve, he can the feel the younger man against his leg, sending another wave of heat to his core. It was reassuring at the least, that he wasn't the only one wound awfully tight tonight.
For all his status as both seducer and fatal romantic, he can't quite avoid a quip in light of the course of events. A smug smile crosses his face. The youth too, deserves it, for playing so difficult to get. "Awfully bold aren't we?"
For the first time, Rokujou observes what he believes to be a twinge of embarrassment on Masaomi's features. It's endearing as the blonde huffs, fumbling for a response. One side of his mouth curls in annoyance, the eyes narrowing despite their heavy lids, all that fire he admired still there. Daring him at every instant. He was never,, ever disappointing.
"You talk too damned much, shut up for once!" The demand was clear but Masaomi left him no time for response, forcibly covering his mouth with his own. It was like flipping a switch, as all the ferocity of the youth returned.
The blonde was all hands and tugging, desperate fingers. Rokujou's jacket finally slipping to a crumpled pile at his feet as the blonde clambered onto him, demanding more contact. He could definitely do something about that. Masaomi's slim figure made that easier. It doesn't take much effort to hoist him up by the thighs, hands trailing back to a flank that was just as satisfying to grasp as he'd imagined. His companion seems to understand well enough, legs twining over his hips as the older man turns, bucking the blonde back up against his wall.
The initial impact grinds them together in a moment of delicious friction. Masaomi's gasp is sharp as he feels the muscles in the youth's thighs strain, as though trying to force them closer. Any means to recreate what just occurred.
Rukojou busies himself, kisses trailing over the crest of the blonde's ear, lapping leisurely down his jawline. He nips playfully, there is an impatient groan in response, a vague struggle as Masaomi tries to heave himself upwards against him. The older man holds him fast, though a pleased smile turns on his lips.
Patience.
He resumes, slower.
Masaomi has gotten his hands under the collar of Rokujou's button-down, fingers grasping against the skin of his shoulders. Digging in as the youth steadies himself. Even as prone as this, tangled around him, he refuses to show weakness, even if he is struggling to keep his breath even.
His tongue trails lower, finally arcing over the curve of the neck that's mesmerized him for months. The blonde's skin is still salty.
The urge isn't typical or even becoming of him, but Rokujou indulges, maybe just this time. This was a different experience after all. A different animal.
He bites just at the base of Masaomi's neck, teeth sinking, not to draw blood, but forceful enough. The intake of the blonde's breath is intense, but he doesn't cry out. He hears a tap against the wall as the blonde's head leans back, breathing through it, a groan of restraint.
Good.
He relaxes his jaw as the youth's skin snaps back with a suckling pop. He dotes over the bruise with gentle kisses, free hand finding the edge of Masaomi's face, brushing pale locks back in a caressing motion. He finds his mouth again, panting, takes him into shallower, sweeter kisses.
Masaomi's fingers trail across his collarbone and begin picking at his buttons.
Rokujou smiles at his eagerness. His tongue slides over swollen lips before delving back inside, languidly moving, content to take his time. The sound he hears is a quiet, but needy whine in the back of the teen's throat.
Mmmh. He could get used to that.
He bucks his hips upward sharply, grinding their strained cores together. A startled moan escapes Masaomi's lips. He flushes immediately in embarrassment, clasping a hand over his mouth in evident horror.
He could definitely get used to that.
He knows he's grinning as he's tugging Masaomi's hand away, interlacing their fingers, squeezing before pulling their hands to the side of the blonde's head. He's reassuring, covering the other's fumbling mouth with his own, a groan behind his kisses as he begins grinding forward. The body against him shudders while the sound is muffled by his insistent mouth. The friction was exhilarating as he spends a few moments grinding the willing blonde into his apartment wall. His heart rate was climbing. It was good, but he was almost painfully hard pushing against him like this.
Not enough.
Rokujou's eyes glance about the room, noting the bed to the far corner. The blonde seems to notice his direction of interest and nods, loosening his legs from around the other man's waist. Rokujou presses a kiss to his forehead and lets him down. He wobbles slightly, it makes the other man smirk. Looking down at him, Masaomi is a mess, his mess and he's utterly fixated with the sight. Blonde hair disheveled well outside of the spectrum of its ordinarily careful grooming, a flush is beginning to creep around the youth's neck. Masaomi is still catching his breath, but his eyes are a welcome fire, devouring the man that's gawking in front of him.
The blonde steps closer, resuming his earlier task, fingers finding the remaining buttons on Rokujou's shirt and loosing them with a slow, focused intention as he watches the other man's expression. For all his worth, the older man can do little but watch as the beautiful thing unfastens the last of his buttons, pulling the shirt open with an expression of appreciation before tugging it down over his shoulders. Pale hands begin exploring his warm skin as the striped fabric hits the floor, lightly trailing over his sides and across his chest, leaving chills where he touches. Rokujou groans appreciatively, hand finding itself in the blonde's hair, urging.
Masaomi pauses, meeting the other man's eyes squarely. The older man isn't quite prepared for the wave of heat that comes with matching the heavy lust in the youth's eyes. There's a growl in his throat and he's leaning down for the other's lips, hand firm at the back of his head, pulling him closer.
He's finding the taste of the youth intoxicating, fumbling for deeper, wetter kisses. He's being pushed back as his tongue winds around Masaomi's, the boy's weight urging him backwards. He complies, with careful steps back across the room, more than willing to see this through. He just gets his hands under the hem of the blonde's tanktop, snaking up the youth's back when he feels the impact against the back of his calves.
Masaomi doesn't stop pushing as Rokujou buckles, falling backwards onto the mattress with a light groan.
He is wide-eyed as the youth is still standing there, watching with dark-eyes, seemingly considering something as his tongue darts out over his swollen lips. The image knocks the breath from the Rokujou's chest. Masaomi peels his soaked shirt over his head, discarding it to the floor. The older man gawks as the youth continues, undoing his belt at a somewhat torturous pace before stepping out of his pants, letting the fabric fall as the buckle clicks against the ground.
Masaomi is hovering over him, one knee finally sliding onto the bed beside his leg as Rokujou is leaning back up eagerly into a heated kiss. The older man's hands wander over the pale skin of the blonde's back, lingering before dipping lower boldly, a firm squeeze to his ass, urging him closer.
There's an approving sound in the blonde's throat before he pushes Rokujou back, forcefully tugging him further up the bed, feet no longer dangling. His weight settles over the older man's hips, leaning down to resume a fervent kiss, hand's wandering over his exposed skin.
It's a slight moment of deja vu for Rokujou, recalling earlier events, though he settles on preferring this version as an eager mouth bites at his bottom lip before breaking the kiss, warmly leading to the side of his face. The youth's kisses trail down the side of his jaw, to his neck and farther, alternating with swipes of his tongue and barely there grazes of his teeth.
He startles with a hitch of his breath when the youth bites down violently just before his shoulder. He's grinning internally even as those teeth hold him fast. He imagines that it is more payback.
Fair is fair.
As Masaomi's mouth releases him he exhales, only to intake again as he notices his own distraction as the youth had been hastily undoing his belt, sliding the leather out from him and tossing it aside. Blonde hair largely hides his eyes from Rokujou, but the older man notes the upturn of his lips, devious as thin fingers make quick work of his buttons and zipper. He isn't quite expecting it when the youth's fingers hook under the hem of his boxers, pulling them off alongside his pants.
Bold again I see...
He can't help a sigh of relief as his erection bobs forward, hypersensitive to the sudden air, now free from it's constraints as Masaomi tosses the remainder of his own clothing into a pile at the foot of the bed. The youth is only gone momentarily and quickly returns to kissing where he left off at that healthy purplish mark, leaving a wet trail downwards.
The blonde pauses, finding time to nip at his exposed nipples, tongue swirling around them as they become erect, grazing his teeth over the tip just enough to elicit shudders from the man under him. Rokujou has a hand tugging lightly at the other's hair, holding on for all intensive purposes. He gulps dryly as the youth continues lower. Admittedly, this was rather more than the Toramaru leader had expected. Not that he was complaining.
He feels his breath first, teasingly hot against his length. Amber eyes flick upwards to look. Masaomi smirks. Rokujou wonders briefly what he looks like to other man, to have that reaction. He doesn't have much time to think about it as Masaomi's tongue suddenly runs down the length of him, sending a distinct shock wave to his groin. There's a sound in the back of his throat, low, growling. It seems to have some effect as the blonde's features shift to a kind of heated determination as he slips his mouth around him.
Rokujou is enveloped in welcomed heat, the immediate pleasure sends his eyes back as the youth begins moving slowly, dragging his lips back up and then down with a hollow of his cheeks. He lingers at the tip before taking him whole in a solid motion. He feels the sudden shift and knows a moan comes from his mouth. He tries not pull to blonde's hair too hard, but finds his other hand bunching into the sheet.
The blonde continues bobbing up and down, a hum in his mouth that is causing a problematic sensation. Rokujou can feel his composure breaking as heat pools somewhere in the back of his stomach. It was going too quickly, too intense. He stills himself enough to look down at the blonde.
It's an utter mistake as he does and immediately lurches, having to forcibly still his own excitement at the sight of just how flushed Masaomi was, all watering eyes and exerting himself over him as he slipped in and out of those lips. It was far too much.
"Shit..."
Rokujou is pulling the blonde up by the hair, harder than he should which startles him, a popping sound as he's pulled off of the other man's length and tugged up into a bruising kiss. Hands clench onto the youth's shoulders pointedly as the older man's chest heaves in an attempt to calm himself. It takes a few moments of distracted kissing to right his breathing. The youth stills, lapping at the the other man's mouth, being held in place seems to get the point across.
He finally pulls back, panting at the other's mouth, seeing the haze in amber eyes that are still watching him with interest. Masaomi plants another shallow kiss before settling down onto the mattress, sprawling upwards and cat-like, stomach pressed to the bed. There's something akin to a whine that escapes his lips and it has Rokujou gawking once again at the body splayed before him. He was being direct about all this, Rokujou would give him that. Once again, never disappoints.
There's a slight arch of his back as Masaomi glances over his shoulder at the man hovering there. An eyebrow is quirked, silently asking if there's a problem. The older man smirks.
No sir, there was no problem here, carry on.
He leans down over the youth, pressing his chest into his back, nuzzling his face just behind Masaomi's ear, rustling his hair in the process. He breathes deeply, relishing in the smell, noting a sigh below him, and runs his hands down the youth's bare sides, feeling a tremble the lower he gets. He kisses just behind the blonde's ear, fighting a groan himself as his hardness is pressed firmly against the blonde, a tease of what he was expecting later.
His voice isn't as suave as he'd have liked, breathy as he chokes out, "What can I use?"
The blonde doesn't answer but fumbles with the arm that is stretched over the bed, dipping under it. A moment of rustling later and a small bottle is promptly tossed over his shoulder.
Oh.
It simultaneously answered and produced a number of questions all at once. Rokujou would be a brazen liar if he said he wasn't surprised. But it wasn't as though it mattered either. It would come up in conversation someday or it wouldn't. He had a much more specific concern at the moment. With any luck, making an utter, desperate mess of the shogun of the Yellow Scarves. He groans aloud at the image and places the bottle in easy reach.
He nips the back of Masaomi's neck, causing the youth to shudder. He's utterly pleased by the goosebumps that have risen there. He continues kissing a trail to the boy's shoulders, hands busily exploring elsewhere, snaking under him to lightly tug at his nipples. He dips to his spine, content to lick a single line to the small of his back, eliciting a outcry from Masaomi he'd have to be sure to replicate. The blonde's breathing has gotten shaky, and he seems to be muttering under his breath incoherently. It was terribly arousing.
He breathes over the tender flank below, biting down, not hard, enough to make a point. He pulls the youth's thighs back, urging him slightly up to his knees, rubbing circles with his thumbs over his hips.
Masaomi is still fumbling over words he only half understands. "Listen, you don't ha-" The youth is cut off as he dips his tongue lower, just over the opening, muscles tensing immediately. The sound from the blonde under him is strangled but in no way unpleasant, muffling as he clearly stuffs his face into the pillow nearby in embarrassment.
The older man is pleased, smirking once again at the youth's responsiveness. He trails his tongue around the tight ring of muscle and feels a violent tremor under him. He settles for holding the other's hips in place, continue to tease as the youth twitches. He has scarcely dipped his tongue inward when Masaomi has all but screamed into the pillow. He notes how incredibly strained the blonde's erection is, leaking at the head.
He decides to be sympathetic. This time. It wasn't as though he wouldn't be doing this again, and he downright needed Masaomi to stop hiding. He reaches for the bottle nearby, being generous with the fluid on his fingers before proceeding. A tentative thumb circles the lubricant around, he hears the blonde's sharp intake of breath.
A cautious finger prods inside slowly. He observes the blonde's hands gripping the sheet with a light hiss, face still crushed his pillow.
"Okay?" he asks, needing to be clear in this situation, gently moving his finger in place to stretch carefully.
The blonde nods wordlessly. He takes that as an affirmative to continue. A second finger teases carefully at his opening, he feels the blonde's body become rigid once again as he pushes it forward. He pulls gently, spreading between the two. Masaomi's voice has settled to a low, level growl into the pillow. Rokujou imagines it's time to push a little harder and applies pressure, curling his fingers at a specific spot.
He feels the shock course through the blondes body as his back arches up, moan breaking out freely as the other man's head leans back away from the bed.
"Better?" He asks aloud, though knowing full well the answer as he makes a point of drawing his fingers out and pressing back in to the same location, eliciting another cry of pleasure. Masaomi's eyes are beautifully wide and overwhelmed, his skin stained with flush.
He picks up his pace, his fingers moving with more vigor, scissoring, careful to stretch him as well as possible while continuing to hear that sound from his lips. Watching the expressive blonde respond so honestly, he wouldn't be able to keep this up long. He adds a third finger which has Masaomi stringing obscenities into the pillow, along with a demand to "get the hell on with it."
Rokujou pauses, the younger man slick and constricting around his fingers, hips moving against him greedily.
He licks his lips in appreciation, eyes glazing over the defined edges of the youth's shoulders, takes note of a few nameless scars on his back, admires the curvature at the base of his spine. His mouth is dry again while he can feel his erection straining. Masaomi makes an insistent noise, moving his hips in evident frustration. Rokujou smiles, a murmur of affirmation under his breath as he withdraws his fingers.
Enough of that.
He grips Masaomi by the shoulder and opposing hip and flips him over, settling him as gently as possible. The blonde's eyes are wide, bottom lip moving with an obvious air of uncertainty, brows knitted together. Amber eyes dart immediately to the side, a turn of the head, not looking. The behavior stills Rokujou, an eyebrow quirked, confused.
It takes a moment of considering the blonde's irritated expression before it dawns on him. He obviously didn't want to be seen as such. That pride of his firing up again. He thinks he's fucked up.
Rokujou smirks inwardly at the scene. Masaomi really should know him better by now. His hands trail down the youth's right leg, carefully lifting, nuzzling his face against his foot, watching, waiting.
He wouldn't be taking him impersonally.
Rokujou was many, many things, but contrary to popular perception he was not a casual lover. His romanticism was an indulgence he took very seriously. How's the saying go- if it's worth doing, it's worth doing right?
He waits. Masaomi's other foot twitches impatiently. But he still refuses, amber-gaze locked to the side, eyes narrowed, irritated... bracing?
The older man smiles fondly. He had all the time in the world, he'd waited months already. Rokujou was a patient man, he'd get what he wanted eventually.
Well, if we're gonna be like that...
He kisses the side of Masaomi's foot, eyes still on his face, sees a slight flutter of eyelids, only momentary before being stubbornly replaced with a scowl. The corner of Rokujou's mouth turns upward, taking his time with a slow lick from the ball of his foot up the through the arch.
He feels the youth tremor as Masaomi all but scrambles up to his elbows, a furious red across his features, eyes wide, obviously startled at the other man's unflinching gaze.
The blonde finally speaks, a shaky, incredulous sneer, "What the hell, man?!"
Rokujou looks incredibly pleased, finally being met by those honey-colored eyes. He smirks. "Mmh, that's better." Leaning forward to capture the blonde's lips again, a hand gently under the youth's jaw, a light flick of the tongue inside. His voice is soft as he pleads, "Stop hiding from me...please." He was unafraid to beg. Not for him. He resumes a kiss. He'd allow himself just one more taste before proceeding.
As he pulls back, he finds Masaomi looking somewhat dazed-out of sorts, more breathless than he imagined, eyes darting in a vague surprised movements over Rokujou's features.
The older man quickly lubricates himself once more before inching closer, drawing the blonde's other thigh up, a tentative squeeze, never breaking eye-contact. He waits.
Masaomi's eyes are still wide but he doesn't speak this time. A slight nod.
That's all he needed. Rokujou guides himself slowly into the youth's opening, pushing just beyond the tight ring of muscle and pausing. He could feel the heat running to his own face now, even with this shallow contact. Masaomi's intake of breath was slow, eyes screwed shut, wincing, fingers bunching the bed sheet. One eye cracks open at the reprieve, glazed, another nod.
He continues pushing himself in, slowly, observing the blonde's reactions carefully while trying to keep his own head clear against the tight heat enveloping him. Finally seated to the hilt, he takes a deep, wavering breath. Masaomi's pale skin is flushing, a warm pink at the top of his chest, snaking up his neck. The youth intakes sharply, eyes half-opening as his grip on the sheet loosens, damp bangs clinging to a glistening forehead. His expression isn't so harsh, but defiant none the less, eye's piercing. His words are choked but forceful when he speaks, "Move," having to take a few shaking inhales, "damnit..."
The older man groans, complies, bucking his hips lightly and approving of the pleased sound that escapes the blonde's lips. He pulls back, nearly out before pushing forward again slowly, exploring the sensation while the youth breathes carefully. He repeats himself, biting his own lip, reaching the limits of his own restraint quickly as he pulls out and thrusts back in all at once, angling precisely where he needed to as the moan from Masaomi is both sudden and guttural and has the blonde's hands clasping over his mouth again.
None of that.
He fumbles the blonde's hands away, bracing them down as begins thrusting in timed pushes, his own breath hitching. The sight of the boy in front of him was unraveling him too quickly. Each thrust has more responsive sounds from Masaomi's lips, his body clamping down on him, soon pushing back with his hips to meet the older man's movements. Their rhythm was imperfect but effective as every matched thrust met another moan from somewhere deep in his throat, their awareness lost to the haze of panting breaths and heat.
His head swam, overwhelmed with the sensation and simply being able to see, the youth's breathing was getting erratic. It would be soon. The older man wanted more contact still. He isn't sure when he dropped back to a seated position, pulling Masaomi on top of him tightly. This close he could wraps his arms around the youth, one clinging to the small of his back, the other weaving itself into blonde hair at the back of his head, urging. The youth was in no better shape than he with eyes scarcely aware, but seeming pleased to press himself closer, wrapping his legs around his waist, chest pressed in, working his mouth against the older man, letting his fingers drag through his slightly longer hair.
Rokujou's thoughts are amused. If the youth preferred being in control he could have it. He groans deeply into Masaomi's neck where he's settled himself, bucking his hips just slightly. The position had them together so intimately it required little force to create friction. The tightening around him has him nearly falling apart, breathing desperately against flushed skin. He can feel the throb of the youth's erection against his abdomen. His voice is husky, dark just beside the blonde's ear. "Give yourself to me."
It has the desired effect as Masaomi immediately begins moving himself, rocking back and forth while his sounds become all the needier, arms around the other man, fingers clutching into the skin of his back. Rokujou pushes up in time with his movements as the youth, now squeezing around him erratically, the blonde's head dropping back. The older man snakes a hand between them, grasping the youth's erection, pumping.
It clearly sends him over the edge as Masaomi cries out, spasming, his release smearing over their chests, constricting down over Rokujou. He clings tightly through his orgasm, head back, eyes vacant in bliss. The sudden tightness speeds the older man's arrival as several thrusts and a glance to that gasping, beautiful mouth has him coming shortly after Masaomi, spilling into him as Rokujou cannot find the will to breathe. He's pawing blindly, trying the pull the blonde as close as possible, desperately seeking the other's mouth. His kisses are sloppy but terribly tender as he pulls himself out of the trembling youth, Masaomi hissing from the movement, a tfinal remor in his body.
Rokujou is smiling, still riding a high of pleasure as he carefully pushes the blonde back down to the mattress, continuing his attentions, trailing light, shallow kisses over his face. The older man is all but purring as Masaomi sighs finally, a pleasant kind of exasperation, serious amber eyes flicking to watch the other man's continued ministrations.
The older man can't quit define the blonde's expression. He settles down, facing him, messy chestnut hair settling against a pillow as he languidly tangles his legs into Masaomi's before finding one of his hands. He interlaces the fingers gently, pulls the hand closer to his lips, kisses the back of it intently, never breaking eye-contact. He occupies himself caressing that hand, observing the youth in front of him.
His expression worries Rokujou, though he had expected something like this. It just how the leader of the Yellow Scarves was. Worrisome. Invests so wholly. He could see it happening in that lovely head of his, always winding up too tight. His honey eyes had an uncertain tinge over them, brows dropping just slightly. Rokujou could see snippets of so many things at once there, watching him wordlessly. Concern, fear, guilt, relief, to name a few. There he goes again, making it complicated.
There's a light chuckle on Rokujou's lips and it clearly startles the youth, expression dropping further into the realm of real concern. The older man shakes his head, a lopsided smile slipping across his features.
He taps their hands against the blonde's forehead playfully.
"Stop that."
Masaomi's expression shifts to startled confusion, eyes narrowing slightly when he speaks, obviously jarred from his thoughts. "Stop what?"
Rokujou sighs, a smirk, he taps their hands against the boy's head again. The action is clearly irritating the younger man. "That," he responds flatly.
The blonde is not amused. Brows furrow together with a huff as his eyes take a familiar fierce light. "What the-" He's cut off by firm lips on his own, lips that have the nerve to be smiling about this.
Rokujou keeps him there, just long enough to have to push for breath, drawing back, watching the object of his affection panting for breath but still glaring, if not so strongly. A hand brushes through the blonde's hair with a tutting sound.
"Keep it simple Masaomi." His tone is light, genuine. It startles the blonde. Rokujou's smile turns inwards at his own dialogue. He'd been saving that for a while. He's referred to his now-lover by many things-kid, brat, shortie, shogun, Kida-but never his given name. He liked the way it felt on his tongue. And if the delicate flush over the blonde's cheeks was any thing to go by, he liked it, too.
The blonde makes a disgruntled sound of annoyance and then a sigh, clearly giving up on the issue but not the war and relaxing back down against the bed, closing his eyes, defiantly not going to look at the other man.
Rokujou chuckles in amusement. He knew it'd be like this, the young leader persistently refusing to admit anything his wild mind could construe as defeat. If difficult, the habit was terribly endearing.
The older man turns onto his back, stretching his limbs casually with a yawn, glancing to the blonde, who was no doubt utterly aware of him, even if he wouldn't look. He braces an arm behind his head, propping himself up, ready to push his luck. Afterall, it's just what he did.
"So..." he trails off, his voice entertained, almost musical in it's cadence "Admit that you're mine now?"
There's a whirl of air as the pillow collides into his expectant face.
"Shut up Rocchi." He feels the bed shift as the blonde likely rolls away from him, tugging the sheet up.
Rokujou smiles into the soft bulk of the pillow, his heart bursting in his throat, pleased.
You're mine now.
It was a simple fact. And he heard no denial of it either.
He's beaming as he settles against the blanketed form, draping an arm around him without protest.
He'd let the lovely blonde dwell for now, it was in his nature. Meanwhile, he'd let his own mind set to work at just how he might wake his new lover in the morning.