Waste It on Me
We know there's no making this right, but we both found each other tonight.
One shot, 3300 words
Rated M for Mature. Contains a seriously adult scene.
Masako Hara paused at the street corner. She went to rub her eyes but paused, aware if she removed her sunglasses the people around her would see the tears that threatened to overflow. The question was, would they recognize her first? At twenty-seven-years-old, her celebrity status was way past its prime, but there were still people who were never allowed out of the limelight.
It was late afternoon; she was eventually going to need to remove her flimsy little barriers, but she would hold off as long as possible.
The cars raced by as she swallowed back the lump in her throat. Masako had told herself it was just a fling, why was she so broken up about it? It was officially over when she left him outside her door last night. The main problem was he was still her book editor.
That prick. She dwelled on yesterday's conversation after the party, where he had berated her over things she had said to the press, especially about their relationship. In hindsight, she had definitely not been treating it like a fling.
This morning at his office, he had acted like nothing had ever happened between them. Stares and murmurs had followed her around the publishing house. He had said he wanted to go over some line edits, but now she realized he had just wanted her to experience the walk of shame. Everyone there was on his side already. He was handsome, intelligent, rich—his positive traits had seemed to outweigh the bad. But that was just Masako's talent in picking out men.
Someone was waving at her, and her head shot up. She turned on the brilliant smile as would be expected of a celebrity, no matter how washed up she was, no matter what she was feeling underneath.
Osamu Yasuhara sat in an old green car, window rolled down. Her smile wavered. A fan she could handle. Someone who actually knew her was a problem.
"Where you going? Need a lift?" he asked. She realized he had not used her name in consideration of the people around her, who were already tilting their heads, looking for a piece of something interesting in their day.
She was going to take the train, but she knew it would still be easier to handle one person instead of a crowd of strangers.
"Yes," she said slowly. "That would be great."
"I'll pull around the corner," he said as the light changed.
In the car, she finally had to take her sunglasses off. She blinked away the tears, hoping to save her makeup. She was sure it was too late, but she didn't dare to check the mirror. She didn't want to see mascara that has turned into rock-star eyeliner.
"Something happen?" Yasuhara asked casually, with a sideways glance at her.
She shook her head. "Nothing important."
"Most people consider a break-up important."
Masako knew he had been too nonchalant. "Was it in a tabloid already?"
Her shoulders slumped. She had hoped she wasn't interesting anymore to the paparazzi. Wrong again.
"Actually, Mai told me, because she had heard it from one of the office girls, who probably saw it on a gossip site. Mai was worried for you."
She looked out the window. "Well, thanks for checking up on me. I'll be fine."
"I didn't know you were working on a book."
"Just a biography, I guess. I think they wanted to out me as a fake, and it actually didn't work out for them."
"Isn't that the publishing house that handles Naru's books?"
"Yeah, he's probably not going to appreciate this kind of publicity."
"Do you want to go home?" Yasuhara asked.
She was now very concerned there would be so-called reporters camping out on her doorstep. "Oh, god, no. They'll have a heyday if I'm dropped off by another guy."
Yasuhara eased off the gas. "Well then, what do you suggest? We can drive around all night if need be."
Her phone didn't show any missed calls, so the reporters hadn't found it yet, but that also meant her aunt hadn't even noticed there was an issue. Masako had kept her on as her agent partly out of family obligation, partly out of pity. Maybe it was time to change.
Her aunt picked up after the fifth ring. "Masako-chan! How's the edits going?" There were voices in the background. Her aunt was probably at a bar or yet another party.
"God damn it, Kimiko," Masako said, dropping any pretense of politeness at this point. "The edits are going just great for him. I've been edited right out of his life, and my agent doesn't even know."
"I can't know if you don't tell me things, Masako-chan," Kimiko said.
There was some new flurry of activity in the background. Masako could only assume there was an exchanging of phones and headlines being pulled up.
"Are you home?" Kimiko finally asked.
"No."
"Then you probably shouldn't go home."
No shit, Masako thought, but drew the line at voicing it. It would be nice not to be famous. For people to just forget about her after all this time.
Kimiko added, "I have a place you could crash." She rattled off an address. Masako dug through her purse for a piece of paper and a pen. Yasuhara reached across her and tapped the glove compartment as she struggled, and she nodded in appreciation. The scent of his bodywash filled her senses. It wasn't overpowering or anything, so she assumed she was just tense.
After she hung up, she gave Yasuhara the address. Kimiko had said she kept it for these types of things. Much more private than a motel. Masako had never considered her aunt maintained an actual house for her one-night-stands, but all in all, it made sense.
As Yasuhara slowed down and turned a corner, they both peered out of the windshield. The neighborhood gave off the vibe of not being the safest place to live, and Masako immediately felt bad for judging it. It was just…so very quiet. A time when families should be home, all the houses were dark. The sun was going down, and the few streetlights were dim.
"We could get you a motel room instead," Yasuhara said as he parked the car in front of the address she had given him. The sad little building was as forlorn as the rest.
"No, it's fine," she said. The sinking sensation in her stomach did not match her words as she entertained the thought of spending the night there alone.
Yasuhara turned off the car. "The least I can do is look around the place for you before I go."
Masako flipped on a light switch. In one corner of the sitting room, cobwebs adorned the ceiling and a couple of mousetraps decorated the floor. A chair and couch sagged under the weight of the dust, and the curtains covering the window looked petrified. She had seen haunted houses that were better maintained.
The bedroom was the cleanest area. She realized it was probably the only place in the house that saw any use. Yasuhara didn't make any snide remarks as he checked the rooms, and she was grateful.
She left the key on the counter, which had been conveniently underneath a flower pot on the front step. Maybe she'd bring it home with her. To be slightly inconvenient to her aunt for once instead of the other way around.
"Do you want a cup of coffee?" Masako asked when she saw the coffee maker. She wasn't ready for him to leave just yet.
He looked hesitant, so she asked, "Are you worried about your car?" Trying to lighten the mood, she added, "I doubt anyone will want that old thing."
"Masako-san," he said slowly, "I'm just concerned about staying alone with you for too long."
Her lips thinned, and she turned to the sink, washing the carafe before filling it with water. "What's that supposed to mean?" she asked as she found the filters and ground coffee in one of the cabinets. There was a thin layer of dust across the top of the canisters.
"You're just the type who doesn't like to be alone," he said.
She went to the fridge and found it empty. That was fine, she would not have trusted the age of any dairy products in it anyway.
The ants in the sugar bowl were irritating, though. She set it down on the counter too hard. "I wasn't going to seduce you or anything," she said, while a tiny, cruel voice chanted in her head: liar, liar, liar.
The concern in his face made her want to lash out, but she held her tongue and started washing two cups anyway. "Is black fine with you?"
Silence, for a moment. "Yes, I prefer black coffee."
Masako wasn't sure she believed him.
Yasuhara sat down at the little two-person table. It looked like it might have been wiped clean in the last year or so. There was a window next to it, but the view was the wall to the neighboring house.
She handed him a mug and sat down across from him. Outside the window, she studied the lines in the wood, the chips and peels in the paint. Masako could not work up the nerve to look at him. A sip from her mug caused instant regret.
"I didn't mean to make you uncomfortable," she said.
"I'm just being cautious," Yasuhara said. "You didn't give me the time of day when Naru was around." He smiled wanly at her. "Now he's taken and you're suddenly interested."
"Oh," she said. "Well, it's not like you showed any interest in me if Mai was in the room." She took another drink of coffee and internally cringed. She could not tell if the acidic taste on her tongue was from her words or the coffee. She abandoned the mug and sat back in her chair, her fingers lightly drumming the table, leaving little swirls in the dust. She should not have been surprised by his confession. The JSPR had always been a disaster from the start, and the people within it were the only ones to blame. They still all had secrets that nobody trusted to share. Who would have thought the two who would be most honest about their relationship would be Naru and Mai?
"We're all messed up, aren't we?" she said.
"That's just what happens when you put a group of people together," Yasuhara said, light smile on his face again. He had taken a sip of coffee. She looked closely for a grimace, but was not rewarded.
"You seem well versed in relationships," Masako said. She wished the bitter coffee would stop overflowing into her words. "Are you seeing someone?"
That would be an acceptable reason for his rejection, but she still felt bad for prying.
"At the moment, no."
"What happened?" she asked but added quickly, "If you don't mind me asking?"
He shrugged. "We grew apart, I guess. There wasn't any anger in the break-up. She went one way, I another. However, no friendship remained afterwards," he said, "so maybe we were just sex toys to each other."
Her fingers stopped in mid-beat. "You were in a relationship just for the sex?"
"Is that any different than you?"
Masako narrowed her eyes. "Was that really necessary?"
"No. I'm sorry," he said, but a lilt to his voice and laughter in his eyes said otherwise.
"Then why would you be concerned that I was going to seduce you?"
"Maybe I'm trying to change."
"Unless you're being cautious because you actually were hurt by the break-up," she said. "How long ago?"
Yasuhara looked down, swirling the dregs in his mug. "Six months."
She turned away and watched for changes out the window, and out of the corner of her eye she saw he was still examining his mug. What did she really know about Yasuhara? She hid her fears under an aloof attitude. Was his light-hearted manner just a facade as well? At least he can catch more flies with honey than vinegar, she thought wryly.
"You can go any time," she said. "I'll be fine."
"I know," he said as he pushed his mug aside. "I was just wondering if you still wanted to seduce me."
Her stomach clenched and she looked at him too quickly. "Well, I don't know," she said, as her body wanted to shout yes, yes, yes. "You're really not a virgin?"
"Oh no," he said with a raised eyebrow. "I'm very experienced."
"Let's say," she said, "I don't believe you. What then?"
Yasuhara reached across the small table and took the hand she had left on the table. She had to realize how close they already were as he caressed her hand against his cheek, then brought her fingers to his lips and gently pulled a fingertip into his mouth, a slow kiss to it before he moved to the next one. He did not break eye contact with her as he did so, and she was certain her breath wedged in her throat.
When he was finished with her fingers he slid his lips to the palm, then to the wrist, the kisses becoming small nips with his teeth. They had naturally gravitated even closer, bent over the table, and soon their lips met in the middle. The angle was unbalanced; the edge of the table cut into her waist and he still held her wrist. The position made the kiss rougher, as they leaned into it with more force than usual, the movement of their lips and tongues erratic.
Masako was already almost standing at this point, but still managed to bump the table as she tugged her wrist free and went around it. She flung her arms around his neck, almost throwing him back into his chair as she covered his mouth with hers again.
His hands went under her blouse and teased the edges of her bra. She moved her hands to his hips and slid her fingers into the waistband of his jeans.
Intertwined like this, they stumbled into the bedroom, and he laid her down across the bed. Her long black hair fanned out around her. Masako left one leg dangled off the edge as he climbed onto her and their kiss resumed from where they had left off. His knee was between her legs, and when she shifted at one point she gasped at the unexpected pressure. His kiss swallowed the sound.
Yasuhara slowly undid each button on his white shirt, his long fingers slow and steady, well aware she was smoldering as she watched him. She swallowed as he pushed the shirt off his shoulders. His body was firm and toned and she felt guilt she had expected a soft scholar. She considered attempting a tease as well, but her heart raced and her fingers scrambled over the buttons until she considered just popping them loose. Instead, she opted to just pull the thing over her head, her black bra underneath was the same shade as her hair. Masako allowed him to unclasp it, and his lips and teeth explored her breasts as she squirmed out of her jeans.
Her panties were a pale pink; matching had not been on her agenda today. Yasuhara hooked his thumbs around her waistband and pulled them down slowly, and left the panties around one of her ankles. Her bare ankle caught itself around his waist as he lifted her hips to dip his head between her legs. She arched her back as his tongue explored her core. When he withdrew his tongue a finger soon replaced it, which started with a slow stroke that quickened in pace. His teeth grazed her inner thigh as his finger danced within her, and his thumb stimulated her clit. Her moans sounded whiny and needy to her ears.
She would have to admit later than maybe he was not lying after all.
His finger withdrew as his voice was suddenly by her ear, huskier than normal. "Do you have a preference?"
Yes, she preferred being taken from behind so her partner could not see her face at her most vulnerable. At the moment she didn't care anymore; she just wanted to see what he would do since he had proven himself to be fully capable. She opened her mouth to answer but all that came out was a groan that could be taken as a negative. She shook her head for emphasis.
Yasuhara removed his jeans and returned to her in what felt like a heartbeat, and positioned himself between her legs. His entrance was smooth, and she shuddered at an ache being sated that she hadn't known was even there. His hands held and balanced her hips, his thrusts rough and her movements irregular. He wouldn't take his eyes off hers, and she couldn't look away, but as she got close to a peak, she reached up and pulled the glasses off his face, letting them bounce onto the bed besides them.
"That was low," he muttered, and leaned down for a kiss. She closed the gap, and her teeth caught his bottom lip instead when he shifted inside her. Masako's nails scraped down his back as she arched hers, pulling him in deeper. Her body was on fire and she knew he felt the same way.
Masako found his glasses on the floor. She sat down on the bed and handed them over to him. Yasuhara laid back down as he checked the glasses for fingerprints. He instinctively went to wipe them on his shirt, and seemed to recall he wasn't wearing anything.
"Are they broken?" she asked.
"No," he said as he put them back on. "Which is really too bad, it would have been an interesting story if anyone had asked."
He rolled onto his side towards her, elbow propped up as he examined her face. She brought her knees up and rested her head on them.
"What time is it?" she asked.
He shrugged. "Almost dawn, I guess." He had not looked for a clock, and there was no window in the bedroom, so she seriously doubted his guess. It had only been early evening when they had arrived.
His stare did not falter, so she finally asked, "What?"
"I just noticed how naturally you started to move away."
Her forehead wrinkled, and as an answer she stretched out and rolled into him, her back to his chest. His arms went around her. Spooning was a perfect angle she had used often. It meant she could lie without the truth being visible on her face.
"Maybe I'll work on that," she said, without ever intending to. He deserved someone who didn't consider love a waste of time.
Yasuhara didn't respond. His silence made her think of what it would be like now if they came together during a case, though thankfully they were few and far in-between at this point. Well, if Monk and Ayako-san could pretend to have never slept with each other, she could do the same. She had done the same.
Masako wondered if Yasuhara had lied about working on it and I'll call you tomorrow too. He was probably a better person and had never done such a thing. But it was likely she would never have the opportunity to ask.
Unaware of his thoughts and secluded in her own, the afterglow was a slow burn.