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Hajime watches hypnotically as he swirls the amber liquid in his glass before tipping his head back to drink it in one shot. Scotch burns a line of fire down his throat and despite his dislike for the strong and bitter taste, he still finds himself asking for another.
A line of empty vodka shot glasses stood in front of him, yet those didn’t do enough for him that evening that he had to settle for a much stronger choice of poison. Having a high tolerance for alcohol is good until you want to get shit-faced drunk and end up having your wallet suffer getting you well on the way.
Hajime wonders if he should’ve just stayed in the dorm instead and spent his Saturday night the way he usually did—an open book on his study table and his glasses sitting on the bridge of his nose instead of the blinding strobe lights and loud, pounding music from the club’s speakers.
It’s just that the stress from the past week was too much that he resorted to taking Kazutora and Haruchiyo’s invitation to go out. Might distract him from stressing over, not only his academic deadlines, but also with his recent break-up with his on and off boyfriend, Inui Seishu.
Hajime doesn’t even know if he should call it a break-up, much less consider what they have as an actual relationship. Seishu had made it clear early on that he isn’t one to stick around and get involved in a serious romantic relationship.
However, his actions dictate otherwise. There were the weekend dates with the casual hand-holding as if they were a real couple. There were movie nights and study sessions with just the two of them, sprinkled with heavy make-outs that always leave Hajime breathless and wanting for more.
It was too good to be true but still, Hajime ate it up—Seishu’s attention and his kisses and his touch. Made himself believe it was real and for a time it was good.
Until of course, reality slapped him hard on the face when he saw Seishu making out with someone at a frat party. It was their first fight, and kind of break-up. Hajime remembers the mixture of fiery anger and stabbing pain in his chest, remembers calling it quits with Seishu.
“We’re fucking over,” he says, seething with fury. Seishu laughs, as if what Hajime said was just some fucking joke. And then he pulls him close by the waist, nuzzles into the junction between his shoulder and his neck. “You don’t mean that,” Seishu tells him. He plants a kiss on the skin, makes Hajime shake with how much he is holding himself back from just relaxing into his hold.
Seishu is so warm, enticing. Hajime wants to just melt into him and be a part of him. It is why he finds himself answering, “No,” when Seishu asks him, “Don’t you, Hajime?” Because he really doesn’t want to, and Hajime wants and wants. He wants to be devoured by this man whose beauty is like that of Heaven’s morning star—a sweet temptation, a deception.
It happens again and again. Seishu, with his games and pains and playful smirks. Hajime with his anger and desire and love, all conveniently offered in a silver platter for Seishu to take and do as he pleases.
If he is being honest, it is kind of infuriating how much of an effect Seishu has on him. Yet Hajime knows in himself that the fact still stands—Seishu could eat him up and spit him out, and Hajime will come running back the moment Seishu does the bare minimum of putting his hands on him.
But it doesn’t mean of course that he can’t be fucking mad about it. And he is. Spit-fire livid. He figures he shouldn’t be thinking about Seishu at all when he went on a mile to spend his night in a bar, drinking and dancing to his heart’s content. Trying to look pretty and desirable in the latex pants and turtleneck crop top that Kazutora graciously lent him earlier.
It works for a while. Three shots of strong vodka were enough for the knot in Hajime’s shoulders to loosen. He is having a blast. A guy walks up to him and asks him to dance, and Hajime allows naughty hands on his waist, curious lips on his skin. It felt good to be wanted like this and Hajime thrives under the attention.
He considers going home with him, if only to prove to himself he can go one fucking night without thinking about Inui Seishu, but just as everything else involving the gorgeous blue-eyed blond, Hajime’s plan remarkably failed the moment his eyes made the mistake of opening, just to see Seishu walk inside the bar.
Hajime felt himself freeze as he watched him casually stroll in—hands in the pockets of his leather jeans, his top hanging low at the front and his tattooed arms on display. Blond strands were pulled up in a half-bun behind his head and beside him, Rindou is hanging off his shoulder, their faces too close for Hajime’s liking.
Seishu glances over to the area where Hajime is, his blue eyes making contact with Hajime’s dark brown pair. It was short and fleeting, but it was enough for Hajime’s breath to hitch, as if he was caught where he shouldn’t be and feeling like he had done Seishu wrong for wanting to be in the company of another man.
It was gone as soon as it happened, though. Seishu walks away and he brings Hajime’s good mood along with him.
Suddenly, the three shots of vodka he took earlier felt too little. He could suggest moving bars, but Hajime doesn’t know nor can he contact Kazutora and Haruchiyo. Even if he does get ahold of them, he doubts that he could pull them away from whatever they are doing long enough to hail a cab and get out of this club.
At the end, Hajime ends up in the bar area alone. If he is going to spend the whole evening in this place with his kind-of ex, then he is not going to do it sober.
Thus, he ventures on an illogical endeavor to get himself drunk. Judging from how his vision already swims when he turns his head too fast, and from how giggly he is with a stranger’s lame attempt at flirting with him, Hajime is successfully well on his way to getting himself shit-faced.
If he was a bit more sober and, you know, rational about how to go about Seishu-related things, Hajime would’ve just ignored his ex and this dude. He would have the evening to himself, maybe take a visit to the spa and get a massage. But he isn’t.
He is kinda drunk and unreasonably angry at Seishu whom he saw making out with Rindou (or was it Ran?) a while ago when he made the mistake of turning around in his seat.
Hajime should really learn the art of not giving a fuck. He should just ignore him, let Seishu do what he likes and he could mind his own business. After all, being with Hajime didn’t stop Seishu from fucking around, what says he would right now?
Which is why Hajime is stuck entertaining this dude. For lack of better options and just simply one of the bad decisions he will surely regret come morning.
It was all good until the man moved away from his seat and came too close to Hajime's personal space. He unconsciously freezes up, knowing what will come next.
However, chance didn’t allow the question to leave the dude’s mouth. An all-too familiar voice pipes up from Hajime’s other side, saying, “I suggest you stay away. You’re making him very uncomfortable.”
The dude snorted, straightening up and squaring his shoulders. Hajime only got the chance to look now and through the skin-tight fit of his muscle tee, he could honestly say he has a nice body. Toned like a seasoned athlete. But he is also incredibly biased and would prefer to have his fingers around Seishu’s biceps, his nails digging into the meat of the blond’s shoulders anytime.
“We have been flirting back and forth even before you came,” he tells Seishu, puffing up his chest like a proud peacock. “What we do next is frankly none of your business.”
“It actually is,” Hajime hears Seishu say sweetly. He isn’t looking at him, but he knows that Seishu is wearing a venomous smile, the kind reserved to those who thought it wise to try and make a move on Hajime. Hajime loves it when Seishu does it, thrives on the claim Seishu laid on him. It makes him feel ecstatic, even more when Seishu follows it up with, “He is my boyfriend. So I suggest you stay the fuck away from him.”
Those words were all that Hajime could focus on and he knew then and there that he was gone. That he has once again lost this fight against Seishu, against himself.
He blinks slowly, turns to see the man walking away from them, grumbling about his annoyance and how Hajime wasn’t a bitch who is worth it anyway. Hajime can’t bring himself to care much about that, not when Seishu is already there beside him. He still can’t decide if he is mad or happy. He knows it’s the latter but he won’t admit it easily.
Instead, he sips on his new glass of whiskey this time, choosing to ignore Seishu.
“Koko,” he calls him but Hajime stubbornly chooses to watch the deep ruby red liquid in his glass, pretending not to hear him. He is mad, alright? He should be, but the longer he feels Seishu by his side, the easier his anger seems to dissipate.
So he settles with not looking at him, because the moment he does, he is completely done. Finished. Seishu’s claws will sink into him once again and Hajime can no longer find it in himself to fight against it.
Besides, the alcohol is much more interesting and pleasing to look at. At least, that’s what he says to convince himself.
He hears Seishu sigh and it makes him tense up, panicking at the thought that Seishu might leave.
What he gets though, is a pair of arms encircling his waist and a chin pillowed on his shoulder as Seishu hugs him from the side.
“Baby,” he whispers, tantalizingly close to Hajime’s ear, the air from his mouth brushing against Hajime’s cheek. “Are you still mad at me?”
And Hajime is so fucking weak for Inui Seishu. He is like a fiddle in between Seishu’s hands, putty material in his palm. Seishu could effortlessly mold him like clay into whatever he wanted to use Hajime for and Hajime would willingly allow him to.
He is so fucking weak for Seishu that he also willingly breaks all his rules just to come running back to him, knees bended and mouth hanging open as Seishu tears him apart again and again.
When Seishu started placing soft kisses on his jaw, tracing his way up to Hajime’s cheek and in the soft spot behind his ear, he could tell that fighting him was a lost cause.
“I’m sorry,” Seishu apologizes. One of his thumbs draws circles on the bare skin of Hajime’s waist, and he nudges his cheek with the tip of his nose. “Forgive me?”
And Hajime nods. He feels Seishu’s grin imprinted on his skin at how quickly he gave in. In the end, he can’t find it in himself to actually care about how pathetic and desperate he must have looked to Seishu. This man knows just the right way to make Hajime dance right in the middle of his palm, and Hajime always does so without so much of a question.
*****
It’s infuriating in a way, just how easily he could play Hajime’s body and his emotions. One touch at the right spot and one kiss is enough for Hajime’s defenses to come crashing down and he is back in square one: under Seishu’s mercy, just where he liked to be.
Seishu’s lips are insistent against his own, as if he wanted this just as much as Hajime did during the past days that they were not exactly on talking terms. He can feel the heat of Seishu’s palm as they appreciatively skim his exposed skin, landing on his clothed ass and giving it a rough squeeze through the latex material.
Hajime moans into their kiss, grinding his straining cock on the thigh lodged between his own. Seishu presses himself closer, encourages Hajime’s movements with his hands on his waist and his mouth beside his ear. “Go on, baby,” he says, “make yourself feel good.”
Hajime could come right there and then, in his pants like a horny teenager. He buried his face in the crook of Seishu’s neck, his hips moving in an erratic and desperate manner.
He longs for Seishu’s touch, for his kisses and his voice. Even in the midst of an ugly fight turned break-up, he would feel the ghost of what being with him felt like that Hajime would end up touching himself with the images of Seishu’s hands on him, his cock in his mouth and in his hole. It was all he could focus on. That and how Seishu’s body cages him against the wall, the two of them pressed almost from head to toe.
Seishu is so close and Hajime is aching for him. He wants to bite into his skin, carve a place for him in his heart.
“Sei–seishu,” he whimpers, nearing the edge. He curls his arms around him tighter, his other leg hiked up on Seishu’s waist.
“Are you going to cum, Hajime?” Seishu asks and Hajime nods frantically, his hips jerking as he chases his orgasm.
But then, Seishu moves away. His weight gone, leaving Hajime floating with his orgasm ripped away from him and he cries, tries to pull him close again but Seishu doesn’t budge. One of his hands settled beside Hajime’s head against the wall, the other holding him by the jaw and hooking his thumb on his lower lip so he can play with his tongue.
Hajime lets his mouth hang open, lets Seishu do as he pleases. Blue eyes watch with fascination before he leans in close and licks into Hajime’s pliant mouth.
“Do you want to cum, baby?” Seishu whispers against his lips. Hajime gives him a tearful nod, “Yes.”
“Are you going to work for it?” He feels Seishu press his own erection against his hip as he starts kissing his jaw, down his neck and Hajime nods quicker, “Yes. God, yes.”
His fingers find purchase in between Seishu’s strands as teeth claim a portion of Hajime’s skin, biting and sucking before licking it soothingly with his tongue. It’s going to mark later. Hajime can’t wait to see it stark against his pale complexion.
“Good,” Seishu kisses the spot where the bruise is forming. He then takes a step back and starts to get to work on the buttons of his pants. Hajime knows what comes next, watching with rapt attention as Seishu slowly reveals himself to him.
He gets on his knees automatically, shuffles closer until he can nuzzle his face into Seishu’s clothed cock. He hears the sharp intake of breath from above him, a palm at the back of his head to encourage his ministrations.
Hajime mouths at him through the cloth, feels Seishu jerk when his lips close around the tip.
Slowly, he brings down Seishu’s boxers, his erection popping out and slapping Hajime on the cheek. He holds it in his palm, gives it a few good strokes before licking a broad stripe from the base up to the top, the tip of his tongue digging into the slit and playing with the Prince Albert piercing lodged in there.
He watches Seishu while he sucks him off on his knees. His ego feels inflated when he sees how Seishu would throw his head back with a groan followed by a curse, and a praise because, “Fuck, baby, you’re mouth is so good.”
Hajime preens under his words, motivated to do even better. To have Seishu fall apart, shaking in his hands. He took him in his mouth, the hand in his hair tightening as he slowly went down until all of Seishu was inside his mouth and his nose touched the base of his crotch.
He could hear Seishu breathing heavily, could feel his fingers twitch with the effort of holding himself back from just fucking into Hajime’s mouth. But Hajime wants more of that thick cock in him, wants to feel used and be used. Testing Seishu’s restraints, Hajime swallows around the cock hanging heavily on his tongue.
His throat constricts around Seishu and it gives him the reaction he is waiting for.
Seishu pushes his head down as if urging Hajime to take more, making him gag at the sudden movement before it devolves into a filthy moan.
“Fuck,” Seishu huffs, laughing breathily. He smooths his fingers in Hajime’s hair, pulls them back so he could look at his face.
Hajime tries to meet his eyes as much as he can with a cock in his mouth. A beautiful flush colors the skin of Seishu’s cheek in his aroused state and he is so fucking pretty. Hajime feels proud of himself upon seeing the touch of pink on his fair complexion, signifying just how good he is doing if it leaves Seishu looking like that.
“Can I fuck your mouth?” Seishu asks, tenderly framing his face with his palms, thumbs caressing the skin underneath his eyes where a few tears have already escaped. Hajime moans around him as an answer, and feels Seishu’s cock twitch. He holds onto Seishu’s thighs and gives it an encouraging squeeze that says, yes, feel free to do so.
Seishu is a very greedy man, Hajime had come to know, and what Hajime willingly offers, he gladly takes.
It starts slow, testing. Seishu keeps his hands on either side of Hajime’s face, keeping him there as he thrusts in his mouth. When he got impatient, he began to move faster and all Hajime had to do was kneel there with a hard and leaking cock that is still confined in his pants, taking every bit of Seishu’s desperate and pleasure-filled assault on his throat.
He moans like a filthy whore and lets it echo around the room in time with the gagging sounds of his mouth getting fucked.
Seishu looks lost in his own pleasure, breathlessly babbling. “This is why I keep you around,” he says, pausing for a moment and keeping his cock in Hajime’s mouth and letting him warm it. “You’d make for a perfect cocksleeve with how good you take me.”
He pulls Hajime off him and he leans down, bringing their faces closer together. Hajime’s mouth hangs open still, taking in large intakes of oxygen before Seishu cuts it off when he gives him an open-mouthed and messy kiss.
“You want to be my cocksleeve, Hajime?” Seishu asks. Hajime, now a goner, just nods his head enthusiastically. He’d kneel if Seishu asked him to and there would be no questions doing so.
“Good,” Seishu breathes, kissing him again. The gesture is so soft, so gentle. A huge contrast to how roughly he was treating him earlier and that alone makes Hajime fall harder once again.
He stands up straight and brings his cock to Hajime’s mouth, teasing the seam of his lips with the tip. Seishu thrusts in shallowly before he resumes with the rough and erratic pace he had set earlier.
The tight grip on Hajime’s hair is back and the tears freely run down his face as Seishu abuses his mouth and throat. It was so lewd, the sounds he makes, and Hajime could cum being used like this.
A perfect cocksleeve, Seishu calls him earlier. It was enough to almost tip him over the edge, but he holds himself back until Seishu tells him to because he wants to be good, perfect. Everything that Seishu deems suitable and acceptable so he could stay by his side.
“I’m going to cum,” Seishu warns him. Hajime hums, preparing his mouth for the onslaught it would receive. Seishu gives a few more thrusts before his upper body curls around Hajime’s head as his cock releases spurts of cum and paints the insides of Hajime’s mouth.
He says, “Let me see,” and Hajime lets his lips part open as Seishu plays with his cum on Hajime’s tongue and fucks his fingers into the wet heat as if driving his cock inside Hajime wasn’t enough.
Hajime is then pulled to his feet and hastily turned so he is facing the wall. The sudden change in position along with his slightly inebriated state left Hajime a little bit disoriented as he steadies himself. He doesn’t have time to prepare himself for when Seishu practically rips the skin-tight latex off of him and forces his knees apart, letting his wet and cum-slicked fingers dance along the fluttering rim of Hajime’s hole.
One digit sinks in easily and Hajime finds himself pushing back against the intrusion. He feels Seishu plaster his body against his back, twisting his wrist as he takes his sweet time opening Hajime up.
He litters his shoulders with kisses and more of his bruising marks that Hajime would appreciate in front of the mirror as he looks back on this night. Hajime lets him, wanting to proudly wear every bit of Seishu’s possessive claim on his body—the shape of his lips, the indent of his fingers. All of it.
Seishu places a feather-light kiss on his nape at the same time he fits in a second finger beside the first, moving them in scissoring motions to further loosen Hajime’s hole. When he speaks, his breath brushes against Hajime’s skin, “That guy in the bar. You’d go home with him if I didn’t step in, won’t you?”
Hajime shakes his head. In response, Seishu pointedly thrusts his fingers inside him, hitting the sensitive bundle of nerves that makes Hajime’s knees shake as a loud moan is ripped out of him. He would’ve fallen gracelessly on the floor if it weren’t for Seishu’s arms wounding around his waist, catching him.
“Be honest,” Seishu growls in his ear, impatient. Hajime cries, desperately telling him he won’t while he fucks himself on Seishu’s long fingers. “Won’t. I won’t,” he babbles in between sobs, leaning his forehead on the wall as he tries and chases his orgasm.
Seishu noses at his cheek and kisses him tenderly, “That’s right. You won’t.” He removes his fingers, leaving Hajime suddenly empty and he reaches behind him, attempting to take Seishu’s hands so he could fill Hajime up again.
Instead, Seishu grabs him by the wrist and holds his hand to the wall, rendering his arm immobile in his grasp. With the other, he lines himself up and teases Hajime’s hole with the tip of his cock. Hajime pushes back and with the movement, Seishu’s cock slides in shallowly, the Prince Albert piercing catching on his rim making Hajime let out a high-pitched and pleasured keen.
He hears Seishu let out a curse then instantly feels him slowly slide inside him, splitting Hajime open as his hole accommodates his size. Seishu had always been big, filling Hajime up perfectly that he seemed to lose his mind every single time Seishu fucks him crazy.
It didn’t help that his piercing amplifies the pleasurable feeling of having sex with the way it nudges Hajime’s prostate the moment Seishu is fully sheathed inside of him.
Hajime focuses on evening out his breathing, trying not to cum. His cock is hard and leaking against his stomach, it’s a surprise that he hadn’t burst the moment Seishu’s tip nudged against him earlier.
Seishu, however, has other plans. He didn’t give Hajime enough time to get adjusted before fucking into him in quick and pointed thrusts. His hips pistoned into Hajime, skin slapping against his backside.
“He won’t fuck you,” Seishu hisses into his ear as he wraps an arm around his waist and pulls Hajime so his back is pressed against Seishu’s chest as he fucks him against the wall. “No one else would, Hajime. Wanna fucking know why?”
“Hnngh,” Hajime moans lowly, shaking his head. The change in angle makes Seishu’s cock press insistently against his nerves and Hajime struggles to comprehend Seishu’s words amidst the hazy lust clouding his mind.
Seishu pulls back and thrusts into him, making Hajime arch his back at the immense pleasure that shoots through his spine and his mouth fall open with a soundless moan.
“Because you’re mine, Hajime,” Seishu whispers, giving another pointed thrust of his hips. This time, Hajime sobs, clutching onto Seishu’s arms for dear life as his orgasm starts to crest.
“No one can touch you,” Seishu continues. “And no one can fuck you either.”
Seishu takes their clasped hands and places it on Hajime’s stomach, where he feels a prominent bulge shift just in time with Seishu’s movements.
“Fuck,” Hajime sobs. Seishu started moving faster, mouthing at Hajime’s shoulders and groaning when Hajime pressed down on the bulge in his stomach. “F-fuck, Seishu.”
The discovery that Seishu is big enough for Hajime to feel him outside his body, coupled with Seishu’s mercy of wrapping his hand around his cock and the way his piercing grazes his walls and his prostate, sends Hajime right over the edge.
His hole tightens considerably around Seishu, making the man groan as he buries his face in Hajime’s neck. He stills and Hajime feels the liquid warmth filling him up and spilling onto his backside.
After they came down from their orgasmic high and their labored breathings turned calm, Seishu lets his half-hard cock slip out of Hajime’s hole. Hajime whines at the loss, but Seishu was quick to comfort him with a kiss on his shoulder before lifting him up in his arms and bringing him to the bed.
Seishu cleans him up with his tongue, only to soil him again with his cum when he fucks Hajime into the mattress this time.
Hajime, who lies pliant with his legs spread and hole squeezing tightly around Seishu’s cock, reluctant to let him go. Hajime, who watches entranced and fixated at the way his stomach bulges slightly at every thrust of Seishu’s hips.
Seishu sends him over the edge untouched for three more times until Hajime is dry orgasming and oversensitive, and by then, Seishu’s touches turned careful, sweeter, gentler.
He washes him up and wipes him down, attentive not to leave any part sticky with the mixture cum and sweat. He would kiss Hajime’s forehead, his cheeks, mindlessly trace the marks he graciously left on Hajime’s skin.
They don’t talk about the fight they had earlier that week. They don’t talk about Seishu’s apparent jealousy and possessiveness among other issues that they have between them. Instead, they laid there content to be back in each other’s arms.
And it was quiet and serene. Hajime focuses on Seishu’s arms around his waist, on Seishu’s calm breathing behind his back. He sleeps like that, knowing that in the morning, he will be a fool once again for thinking that Inui Seishu will ever be in love with him, too.