“There's something wrong with this picture.”
Nobuto slides his gaze left and picks out Kazuo's profile against a moving curtain of neon pink and blue and flickering green. The nameless youth of Tokyo swarm and gyrate around them in an obscene blur of sweat-skin and dyed leather and hair gelled to stand up every which way. Kaz frowns and looks up at him, club lights sparking prismatic colours and patterns in his eyes. There's a dark tinge to his cheeks, an alcohol flush that makes him look younger.
Quickly scanning the dance floor, Nobuto shrugs a shoulder. “I know what I'm not seeing.”
“Well, yeah, exactly.” Kaz hugs his bottle to his chest and rises onto tiptoe, speaking directly into Nobuto's ear. A hot network of prickles works down Nobuto's back, prelude to his plan for this evening. “Hey, did Toki say anything about this place to you?”
“Nope.” Well, that's not strictly true—there was the text message yesterday asking Nobuto to keep a close eye on Kaz tonight because the club was set to be busy, and it wouldn't be good for Kaz to get lost here. Or too drunk.
Nobuto picks out the red streak of Toki's hair behind the bar, partially hidden by a throng of milling, slow-frotting silhouettes in the queue. Silhouettes of different shapes and sizes, but sharing one similarity: they all lack a certain softness to their edges, all move without a distinctive sensuousness, there's no sweet fullness to their hips.
“Where are all the chicks?” Kaz's gaze roams back and forth across the club, as if he's expecting women to suddenly spring out from under tables and from behind pillars. “Nobuto, seriously—where are all the chicks? There are like... wait.” Slowly he turns toward the bar and the realisation begins to unfold; his jaw drops and his pale eyebrows shoot up to mid-forehead. “No way.”
Nobuto chuckles and transfers the cigarette burning languidly from between his fingers to his mouth, then claps a hand on Kaz's shoulder. “C'mon, Kaz, you really didn't know Toki bowls for both teams?”
“Shit, no!” Kaz splutters. “I thought he was just really into fashion or something. You know, everyone's got their hobbies. Holy crap.”
With a grin, Nobuto shakes his head. “You mean the huge 'Hungry Banana' sign above the door with the picture of the guy deep-throating fruit didn't give you any clues, either?”
The shock drains from Kaz's face and he scowls. “Shut up! Look, I knew he sometimes worked at a bar, but I didn't figure the name was important so I didn't ask.” Kaz pulls a deep gulp of beer from his bottle and sways on the spot. “It's not like I've got some... some gaydar I can just switch on, is it?”
“You tell me.” Nobuto hitches an eyebrow at him. Winding up Kaz is fast becoming a favourite pastime, along with Shogi, staying alive during games, and keeping his sex life active. Not necessarily in that order.
“You're a jerk sometimes, you know that?” Dropping his empty beer bottle on a nearby ledge, Kaz folds his arms over his chest and spends the next two minutes throwing surreptitious glances toward the dance floor, like he wants to look but can't quite bring himself to admit it.
“Hey, Toki invited us out. It's not my fault you didn't catch all the glaringly gay hints.” Nobuto drops his cigarette butt into the neck of Kaz's discarded bottle and blows hair out of his eyes. Toki mentioning anything about himself beyond bus gaming came as a pretty big surprise, but finding out where he worked was the kicker. Not that bar-tending in one of Tokyo's hottest gay clubs makes it any easier trusting the guy—to Nobuto, Toki is just as big a mystery as the first time they met.
Kaz, on the other hand, is a leap and a bound easier to read, but he's also the most highly strung. A dangerous mix in the bus gaming world.
Slumping against the nearest pillar, Kazuo clutches his head and groans. “What was Toki thinking?”
“Who knows, man. Maybe he thought you were lonely.” Nobuto sees no need to include himself in this equation, since there are plenty of numbers in his wallet he could call if he wanted. Tonight's not about him. Kaz needs to get laid. Probably not as much as Toki does, but then, Toki's better at burying whatever's up with him and keeping his cool. Kaz the open book—often too open for his own good—is way more susceptible to mistakes if he's not given an outlet.
The fact that he wouldn't know how to handle a woman even if he did manage to bag one is beside the point. If he carries on bugging Nobuto for phone numbers and tips on how to pick up chicks and—more importantly—how to keep them long enough to get them naked, Nobuto's going to throttle the guy.
Originally he considered dragging Kaz to this back alley restaurant he knows, the one where the waitresses serve you your food and then serve you under the table while you eat it. Somehow, it just doesn't seem Kaz's style, and he'd probably end up choking to death on his hot wings. Where would that leave team AAA when the next bus game comes through?
“What's that supposed to mean?” Kaz says.
“It's not like we've seen much evidence of your success in the lady department,” Nobuto tells him.
“Feh, thanks for the vote of confidence!” Kaz wrinkles his brow. “Anyway, why'd you come along, too, Mr So Lucky in the Lady Department?”
Some stunning, sweaty boy comes slinking through the crowd and makes sure to rub his crotch against Nobuto's hip as he walks past. The boy lifts inky-black eyelashes and gives Nobuto and Kazuo a sultry smile, his eyes heavy-lidded but too alight from whatever drug he's jazzed on, his tongue darting out to wet his lower lip in a long, smooth drag.
Nobuto doesn't need to hear the sudden intake of breath beside him to know it's there; Kaz stiffens like a board.
When the boy is gone, Nobuto glances at Kaz and notes how the colour staining Kaz's cheeks has now spread along his jaw and all the way down his throat. It's like he's been rubbed against a rough carpet for a few hours and then released as a static charge, heat and tension crackling off him, pulling shivers from under Nobuto's skin, too. Nobuto knows this feeling, is all too familiar with it and what it signifies. The hairs at the back of his neck stir.
“I don't like limiting my options,” he says.
“... Oh.” Kaz swallows, then again. Blinks. Nudges his glasses up the bridge of his sweat-shiny nose. All the while, Nobuto waits for his words to sink in, quietly watching Kaz's small, uncertain movements. Kaz's jaw drops for the second time. “Wait, what?! Nobu... you too?”
“Heh.” Nobuto pivots on his heel and leans in close to Kaz, resting one hand against the pillar just above Kaz's left shoulder. “There are different types of people for different kinds of things. The question is if you're willing to close yourself off to half the population.”
“But I'm not...” Kaz says. “Am I?”
“Who knows?” Nobuto half-smiles, not mean enough to bring up Kaz's reaction to the boy from earlier or the fact that Nobuto could probably light a cigarette in the heat passing between them right now. Kaz has to come to that realisation on his own. “I guess there's only one way to find out.”
Kaz worries his lower lip and blinks at him, then frowns. “Are you yanking my chain, Nobu? I'll kick your ass if you are.”
“I ain't yanking any chains.” From somewhere nearby, a glass shatters on the floor and somebody wolf-whistles. Although they're not yet doing anything to raise a ruckus, they're still only partially concealed by the sticky black shadows. “What'll it be, man: life and death, or life and death and sex? I know which I'd prefer.”
Nobuto's appreciation for the finer things in life didn't just materialise when he started bus gaming. Long before that, back when he was cut off from his inheritance and he hit the streets, he learned fast that it wasn't just every game or trick that could be the last, but every single waking moment.
Seize the bull by the balls and take what you need. Anything it takes. That's the mantra.
Nobuto sees the understanding hit Kaz full force, watches it click on his face like a light switch coming on. He looks up into Nobuto's eyes, and Nobuto smiles. “There, see? Easy enough to decide. Sexuality doesn't even come into it.”
Light washes across the lenses of Kaz's glasses in oily rainbows. “I bet you're popular with the guys, too, huh? Asshole.”
The smile transforms into a grin and Nobuto grabs a handful of Kaz's shirt, snatching it up to expose his belt buckle and a smooth, white strip of belly.
“Hey, w-wait, what are you—Nobu! Wha—?” Kaz's eyes dart back forth between the crowded club and Nobuto's face like he's on some speed trip.
“What, you want to go find that boy from earlier?”
“N-no.”
Kaz squirms like a worm on a hook, catching a handful of Nobuto's shirt as Nobuto unclasps his belt and digs at the top button of his jeans. There's a half-hard rise pushing the denim outward, strained and desperate. Nobuto lets a fingertip skim over the ridge and Kaz bucks forward as if he's been electrocuted. It's like the violence of his reaction sets off a chain of events in Nobuto's body: his cock twitches in his jeans, stiffening, and his mouth goes ever-so-slightly dry, like it always does when he's turned on. Who'd have thought innocent little Kaz could do this to him?
“Wait!” Kaz gasps, tempering some of Nobuto's arousal, enough that he backs off a little way.
“Hey, all right, man. No sweat.” Dropping his weight onto one hip, Nobuto eases his hand out of Kaz's jeans, but keeps his other braced against the wall, trapping Kaz in the space between. “If you want to go another month or year with nothing but your right hand, by all means. But if you fuck up during a game, it's not just your ass on the line, it's mine, too. And Toki's.”
“That's what this is?!” Kaz's features harden. “You just wanna get me off so I won't fuck up your plans?”
Nobuto stares at him. “Listen up. 'Just getting by' isn't enough, man. Guys get tense when they've got nowhere to put it. Why do you think I keep my bed so warm?”
All the fight leaves Kaz and he lets his shoulders drop, his mouth shaping the word, “Oh.”
“Best to just let it all out, get it wherever you can. You could die tomorrow.” Nobuto leans in again, so close he can taste the moist sweetness of Kaz's breath. “You could die tonight.”
“I know that.” Kaz's lower lip draws out slightly and Nobuto wonders if it's as soft as it looks, as soft as a girl's. “I'm not freaking gay, all right?”
“If you insist, that works for me.” A lot of things work for Nobuto, particularly when it means an easier life in the long run. With a little less haste and a little more care, he goes for Kaz's fly again, this time getting the zip all the way down before sliding his hand back into feverish heat. “Don't go thinking we're best buddies now.”
“Eh, s-shut up.” The hand fisted in Nobuto's shirt tenses, the material bunching. It'll be creased when they're done, but Nobuto doesn't care. Kaz chews on his lower lip to the point where it starts to look painful. Hell, Nobuto hasn't even touched him properly yet.
“Ease up, or you'll bleed all over me.”
A flicker of confusion; Kaz's eyes are slightly unfocused, but settled on Nobuto's face.
“This is meant to loosen you up,” Nobuto clarifies, nodding toward Kaz's mouth until Kaz understands and quits trying to gnaw through his lip. “Better.”
“Yeah, well,” Kaz mutters, glancing around and turning father into the shadows, “it's not like I've done this before!”
“No big deal, it all ends the same. Besides,” Nobuto flicks his head toward the dance floor without having to look—he can hear the groans and breathless curses playing between the thump of the bass, “nobody's looking.” Probably, he thinks.
Kaz steals a glance at the crowd. Considering Nobuto has his hand shoved down Kaz's jeans, the guy can still act awfully innocent. Which makes this the perfect time for Nobuto to brush his knuckles against silky, virgin hardness. Kaz's dick jumps against Nobuto's hand and he obliges, palming the length, adding a little pressure that sends Kaz's eyeballs up into his head.
Well, this won't take long—not for Kaz anyway. Nobuto, on the other hand, is only starting to coil tight and thinks about that pretty boy from earlier, how he should probably seek him out later and get a quick, hard fix. Kaz won't be in any shape to reciprocate anyway. Guy's not gay, apparently. Nobuto smirks to himself, squeezing Kaz's cock and feeling slick beads of pre-come on his wrist in a wet line.
Slack-jawed, Kaz tips his head back, the whites of his eyes stark in the wash of neon. Closing two fingers tight around him, Nobuto speaks directly into his ear.
“Having fun, straight boy?”
“N-Nobu, quit p-playin' with me, you bastard...”
“All right, all right.”
One quick sweep of his thumbpad over Kaz's balls, tearing a moan from him that rolls through them both. Nobuto strokes up the rigid shaft, tremor after tremor in his wake like he's playing some wood instrument rather than a person. Then Kaz's mouth is against his throat, working silently, constantly, forming words that Nobuto hopes are obscene, filthy.
“How long do you think you'll last?” he murmurs, wrapping his fist all the way around Kaz's cock and holding firm. Evil, yeah, but it's worth it for the shudder and frantic puff-puff-puff of Kaz's breath. “A minute more? Or...” Squeeze. “Less? Why are you hanging on, Kaz?”
“S-shut—ungh.” Kaz's hips are now jerking gently, shift-sway-thrust, and his cock gets wetter, hotter, harder than ever. “You b-bastard, Nobu...”
“Don't worry, you won't die in the next game. But,” Nobuto smears moisture around the soft head of Kaz's cock, rubs with his fingertips, massaging, working all the way down to the base, “you can die a little now, if you want.”
There's steam around the edges of Kaz's glasses when he goes taut like a string, his face turned up to the ceiling, neck cords pulled tight, mouth open in a silent wail. The dick in Nobuto's fist throbs and wet, hot seed dashes up his wrist, soaking into his shirt sleeve. It's okay; he's had dirtier sex in dirtier places—it'll wash out.
Nobuto holds Kaz until his eyes come back down, until his lids lower and he flops forward, his forehead hitting Nobuto's shoulder. Slipping Kaz back into his jeans, Nobuto re-zips him and pats him quickly on the head.
“Yeah?”
“Ungh.” Kaz nods, panting hard and generating enough heat to supply the whole city, or so it seems. “I... that was... holy fuck.”
“Heh, yeah, well. Let's not let this get awkward.” Nobuto pushes Kaz back and tugs his shirt sleeve down, mopping up as much spend as he can. “I gotta go wash up, man.”
“Okay. Cool.” Kaz doesn't quite look at him as he straightens his clothes, his flush back now and deeper than ever. Nobuto's dick aches for some satisfaction and if he doesn't get off soon, it's going to get painful; blue balls are right up there with death-by-gaming on his list of things Not to Happen. He pushes through the crowd in search of the toilets.
“Hey, Nobu!”
“Yeah, yeah,” Nobuto waves his hand over his shoulder. “You're not gay. I hear that.” Jeez, it's okay for Kaz—he's not trying to walk with a hard-on spiking the front of his jeans. “I'll be back, just gotta clean up—” and come.
Kaz catches up to him and grabs his arm. Nobuto stops and glances back, lifting an eyebrow.
“It's just that I'm not gonna die,” Kaz says, managing to smile and look dead embarrassed at the same time. “And neither are you and Toki.”
“I shouldn't think so, after that performance,” Nobuto says, tugging himself out of Kaz's grip and picking up his pace.
“Oy, that's not what I meant! Hey, Nobu—wait up!”
Nobuto smirks to himself. If there's one thing he can be certain of in this crazy game, it's that some things don't change, they just get a little closer.
~Fin~
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