The burning of liquor slid down Satoru's throat as a loud thud of glass slammed down onto the laminated wood of the bar. Huffing hot air of unsettling anger out in a heavy sigh, he calmed himself before making a mistake that would surely have him thrown out and banned from his favourite club.
"Com'on, it's just your number. I saw you looking at me from across the bar, don't be shy now." An aggravating man speaks up over the loud and demanding thumps of the bass, leisurely sliding an arm over the bar table to lean — unfortunately — closer.
"I've already said no. If you must know, I have a boyfriend." Satoru keeps his head straight, an arm out to call for the bartender, ignoring the creep that had waltzed up to him in grandeur five minutes ago.
"Nah, I don't believe you." The unwanted guest slid into the seat next to him as he continued. "You're Satoru, aren't you? Everybody knows you don't like to settle down."
"I'm serious, I do. Do you enjoy being shot down over and over? Is this some kind of sick foreplay to you?"
The man laughed, pulling at the black collar of his blouse. "No, you're just playing hard to get, I know how men like you work."
"Men like me?" Satoru scoffed. "Men like me are loyal and I won't be cheating. Leave before I call security over." His fuse was running short. His back-to-back mineralogy and statistics for Earth science lectures already put him in a weary state and he couldn't listen to one more entitled brat going on and on and on about how right they were when they clearly weren't.
"You're still going on with that act? Then who's your boyfriend?"
God, he really needed to learn some social ques before Satoru clocked him. But he couldn't, that wouldn't end well, he knew that. So, instead of driving his fist into his face he took a deep breath and held it for a beat before exhaling. "What's it to you?"
"See, you don't have one." The degenerate smirked.
"I do."
"But you don't know his name? Com'on, just give me your number, stop playin' hard to get."
Fuck, he didn't wanna have to do this, but the bartender was caught up with someone else and he had to act civilized. "Suguru."
The other man froze for a second in what seemed to be disbelief before letting out a snicker. "Suguru? As in Suguru Geto? Don't make me laugh."
"So, I tell you my boyfriend's name and you don't even believe me? Fine. Take your chances and face him when I tell him about you." Satoru thanks the lord he knows of someone notorious for his nasty attitude and prays to god he doesn't mind his name being used like this.
It seems like he's going to throw out another vague excuse for Satoru's number but then he speaks and it's not a delusion. "If you say so," he spits, and turns to storm off and linger until he finds some other poor fellow that would give in under the pressure.
Satoru's night was now irrevocably and utterly ruined thanks to some fucking creep that couldn't take no for an answer. He figures word might get out about how he used Geto's name but he thinks he would understand. At least he hopes he does lest he be beaten to a bloody pulp by the guy. It's not like he couldn't have used one of his friends' names, he could have said it was Nanami. But Satoru's picky and Nanami isn't his type, he isn't too keen on blonds. If he's going to lie, it's going to at the very least be about an attractive man and Suguru, besides his attitude problem, is renowned for his striking looks. Honestly, it's the only reason he knows of him, like most of the other students at their university.
Satoru pays his tab and lightly sways on his way out of the club. Chilled wind nips at his skin, and he wishes he had brought a sweater or something instead of being a dumbass and wearing the skimpiest outfit he could find in late October. But, as his pride and tastes go, anything for the fit. Thankfully, the walk back to his dorm building is roughly only ten minutes, fifteen if he's had too much to drink. He only had time for two drinks before his mood turned sour and so, the walk was just under ten minutes with the motivation of the cold chasing him down the streets.
When he slipped back into his dorm, his roommate, Nanami, was buried in his economics assignment that he did instead of joining Satoru at the club because of course, he insisted it needed to be in by tomorrow morning despite it being due in four days. Something about extra free time off on Halloweekend.
Nanami didn't so much as turn his head when he heard Satoru closing the door behind him. "You're back soon."
"Got bored," Satoru huffed, jumping onto his bed face first. He ripped the stupidly confining shirt sticking to his body off and threw it in the hamper before plugging his phone in and crawling under the covers to hide from the cold that clung to his bones. Fucking fall, why couldn't it be summer?
Nanami gave a curt goodnight before returning to typing on his laptop. Satoru, despite it being 11:36 PM and having a consistent bedtime of late early morning, fell asleep trying to dissipate the rotten feeling of being harassed by a jester.
The following three days consisted of attending the classes he needed to reach his mineralogy degree and hurrying to finish up assignments before the weekend. Satoru didn't know why professors had to ruin fun and assign due dates right before Halloween and he wasn't the biggest fan of those who set the deadline for Monday. As much as he complained, it wasn't too difficult seeing as he understood nearly everything after hearing it once. It was just the time it consumed to complete it that had him working in long stretches. He refused to be hauled up in his room writing reports and research papers instead of going to a party with Shoko. And so, everything was completed by the third day.
When Friday finally rolled around, he dressed in light-wash jeans, a dull hoodie, and a coat for his nine AM lecture on structural geography. When he exited the building he headed straight for the nearest café to wash down the groggy feeling of sitting too long.
Approaching the counter, a brunette barista greeted him. "Hi, what can I get started for you today?"
Yeah, can I get pumpkin spice latté, Americano with a splash of milk, and one of those pastries." He points to the display cabinet. "The almond croissant," Satoru says to the droopy-eyed cashier who looks like mid-terms still have her in its clutches two weeks after taking them.
She gives him a weak customer-service-smile as she taps in his requests to the point of sale system. "That'll be thirteen-sixty-five. Cash or credit?"
Satoru pulls his card from his suade wallet as he responds, "Credit."
She turns the contactless reader to face him, and he taps his card. There's an awkward little moment before the payment goes through and she directs him to the other end of the small store. The smell of freshly ground coffee and hints of all sorts of things — vanilla, chai, spice, matcha — amalgamate into a comforting bouquet. He stuffs the pastry into his bag when his order is pushed towards him. Taking up the two coffees, he smiles and thanks the brunette before heading out and back to his dorm.
When Satoru slips into his space, he's alone. He glances at the clock Nanami hung up on the wall, 11:02. Nanami won't be back for another thirty minutes, by then his coffee might be cold. Satoru knew that but got it anyway. He didn't want Nanami using fatigue as an excuse to slip away early.
Satoru kicks off his shoes haphazardly, heading into the kitchen to put down the drinks. He opens and closes his hands a few times, palms warm from the heat of liquid, backs of finger tips cold from the worsening weather. He pulls out his phone, opening Shoko's contact. Sliding his fingers over the glass, he types.
Shoko
Today 11:03 PM
Don't forget about me!!
No instant replies, that's a given. Shoko had said she would be working on whatever kind of stuff they do in pre-med before heading over later around half past three. She had pinky promised him she would help him pick out his very last minute Halloween costume and do his makeup all pretty. The extra time was granted for her and Nanami to get ready, plus the effort that might go into a makeup look if someone decided they were going to bet all the spirit in the face rather than the clothes.
To pass the time until one of them arrived, Satoru sat at his table and opened Pinterest to search for ideas. Cautiously, he sipped on his latté, wincing at the heat. His mouth was always sensitive, temperatures most people would be okay with would feel like burns even though it never did leave marks. The rest of his body was the same, especially his eyes. It was one of the awful curses that came with intensively blue irises, or any light eye colour for that matter. Shoko had said it's called photophobia, but he hadn't really listened to the specifics.
He flicked past a particularly eye grabbing costume and scrolled back up. White dress pants and blouse were adorned with gold jewellery, wings poking out of the back and a halo placed atop the head. He quickly saved it to his board that he had been frequenting the past few days when time permitted but still hadn't picked a motif out of yet. Glancing over examples of outfits, he rummaged through the inventory of clothes in his head, trying to discern whether or not he could put something similar together.
Originally he had wanted to go as a jester but Shoko said he'd just look downright scary with the face paint. That it'd make his eyes look like they were stripping your soul and peering in. And he was not aiming for something sinister, but something a little more… flirtatious.
Just then, his phone gave a buzz.
Today 11:27 AM
Shoko
Yougonna cry for a divorce if I do?
Oh shut up
I got you a pastry but I think it might be stale or
something by the time you get here
Come earlier? 😚
Shoko
Dude i barely have time to sleep just be glad I can make it at all
You're such a big meanie
It's an almond croissant
Shoko
If you throw in a pack of cigarettes I might consider moving my study session into your dorm
I don't condone voluntary cancer
Shoko
Then I'll see you at 3:30
Fine but don't forget all the stuff
Shoko sent a thumbs up.
Satoru unceremoniously threw his phone to his bed and stood up with a stretch. Halloween was always fun and games until it came to finding a costume and suddenly having zero articles of clothing to choose from.
Flitting his eyes between shirts and pants alike hung in the open closet, he stood imagining which fabrics would suit the roles of either vampire, angel, or Cupid. He'd considered the idea of a Greek god but soon discarded the idea once he realized he didn't have a mountain of gold jewellery to dazzle himself in.
He began pulling clothes that fit the colour schemes — red, black, white — out and laying them on his bed. When he had switched to filling out the carpet floors of his shared room, the lock on the door beeped open and Nanami walked in. He could hear the soles of his shoes clatter on the shoe rack when he took them off and steps stopping at their room.
"Satoru, what are you doing?" he sighed.
"I'm trying to figure out what to wear," Satoru said, turning around. "Do you think I'd look better as an angel, vampire, or Cupid?"
Nanami stepped over the array of fabric and plopped his bag down on his bed. "I don't know, wear whatever you want."
"Yeah, but, what would look better? Like, the red in the vampire costume would totally make my eyes and hair pop but I don't know, the white-on-white might be good too? Or maybe I'd look too cult-y."
"Then do Cupid. White-on-white with red accents."
"Oh, that's a good idea actually." Satoru brought a hand to his chin and debated what clothes he wouldn't mind getting red lipstick all over. "By the way, your coffee's in the kitchen. Probably cold now."
"Thanks," Nanami said, passing back into the kitchen.
A few seconds later two beeps sounded from the microwave, and just a minute after, three more sounded. Nanami came back with a steaming cup in his hand and sat in his chair, swiveling it around to face Satoru who was now hanging the darker coloured clothes back up.
"You know what you're gonna be?" Satoru asked, turning to Nanami.
He nursed his coffee, taking a small sip. "Me?"
Satoru cocked a brow at him. "What do you mean 'me'? It's a costume party."
"I'm not wasting my money on a costume."
"Dude, you have to wear one to get in and you are coming."
Nanami sighed, rubbing his temple. "I guess I can't go then."
"No, you totally could. You still have those emo clothes, right? You could put that and paint a skull over your face or something."
"I am not doing that." Nanami said definitively.
"Then just wear a suit or something and hold a magnifying glass and call yourself a detective. I don't know, but you better figure it out soon." Satoru shifted his gaze back down, ignoring the pressing issue for now. If he has to, he'll hold him down so Shoko can slap some face paint on him. Whatever he has to do to get him into that party.
Nanami made a disagreeing sound and pulled out his phone. Probably also searching for ideas that require the most minimal effort yet carry tact.
Satoru stared at the white shirts. He could go for a tight crop top, but he figured that's not as angelic as he wants it to come off. Eyeing the blouses, he decides on a sheer white one. Pants were a whole other issue, though. He learnt earlier in the week that wearing shorts would be too much of a pain in the ass for the walk home. Now it was just a matter of which dress pants to go with. He had two white ones. One was closer to a cream, the other platinum.
Trying both of them on with the shirt in the bathroom, he decided the platinum made him look too sterile, like he was involved in some cult under the pretence of a Halloween costume.
"I'll be back, picking up some things. Want me to get you something for your costume?" He asked Nanami when he rounded the corner back into the space.
He pushed up out of the chair and dug for his wallet out of his bag. "I'll just come with you. Got nothing to do and I don't trust you to not make a fool of me."
"As long as you get something," Satoru shrugged, stepping to the door to find his shoes after slipping a jacket on.
—
When they showed up to the closest and, by Nanami's request, cheapest costume store, Satoru made it very clear he would have indeed made a fool out of him.
In the bottom of his basket sat wings and a halo he opted out for when he'd decided he didn't want to spend an hour scrubbing scarlet pigments out of his favourite blouse.
"But you look so cute in it!" Satoru laughed, watching Nanami grimace at the idea of wearing little cheetah print ears and tail out in public, or even private for that matter.
He took the fake ears off and hung them back up on the wired wall. "I already told you I'm going with your detective idea."
Satoru rolled his eyes. "You're such a buzz kill." Giving up on the fight of insisting Nanami wore them, he turned and headed toward the register. Nanami followed, deciding an eye glass and badge was good enough.
He side-eyed the outfit Satoru wore, clearly judging the decision to wear a sky-blue jacket. Nanami couldn't understand why clothes the hue of cotton candy would even be sold in an establishment that weren't children's stores. "Am not. I just have taste, unlike someone."
Satoru spread his items out onto the conveyor belt and motioned for Nanami to do the same. Satoru sensed his hesitation and said, "I don't wanna hear you complaining about spending twenty dollars playing dress-up. Just put them up."
Nanami shrugged as if saying 'if you insist' and placed his items in the pile of Satoru's.
While the cashier rang the items up one by one, satoru pulled his wallet from his pocket and prepared his card. From beside him, Nanami gave a small, "thanks."
"Anytime," Satoru said, a lopsided grin shining bright on his face.
He explained why he was paying as if it did bother him a bit, but it didn't. Satoru came from a fairly wealthy family of business men and women. It was the kind of wealth that ensured the next generation would live in luxury if the company went under and ended its rein. Though, it wouldn't. His family dominated the corporeal realm, not just because they had connections, but because they were smart, the best in the field. So, Satoru had a surplus of cash. To him, it was just paper with intricate designs pressed over. He could stuff a house with money pulled from his account, set it on fire, and move on to do it again without mourning a single cent. It wasn't like he would do it though, he liked money. His parents educated him on the importance of it since young, and he had friends that were near poverty in this economy. So, without having an attachment to the paper making the world go 'round and having so much to burn, he often 'lent' it out to his friends. Though 'give' is a more suitable word. He dressed it as a conditional offer because his friends wouldn't take it otherwise, but he never asked for money back. If he did get it back, he would simply spend it on a gift for them and return it in that form.
It's no surprise his love language was gift giving, and Nanami was well aware of this. So, thankful for the pocket money and wanting to avoid a competition of strength demonstrated through whether Nanami had a stronger grip on his items or if Satoru had a stronger pull, he let him pay.
With the plastic bag in Nanami's hand, they walked back to the dorm engrossed in a debate over how they think the night will go.
Nanami bet Satoru would be the first to get wasted and probably blackout and do something he'd be horrifically embarrassed about come morning. Satoru agreed it might happen, but Shoko would probably do something way worse.
When they returned to their living quarters, Satoru immediately went back to putting his costume together. He wanted to wear it a while prior to leaving to make sure it was absolutely perfect, not missing anything, and felt right.
He stood in front of the shared long mirror hanging on the wall, observing and analyzing his outfit. Pristine white wide-legged trousers hung low on his hips, part of a sheer white button-down tucked into the waistband with three buttons undone, as if it being literally see-through wasn't enough. Fluffy white feathers bouquet at his shoulderblades, held on by fabric straps, and a halo sat atop his head, secured in place. He was white from head to toe.
He turned to Nanami, who was pulling out a briefcase and filling it with things he was going to bring with him tonight, and asked, "what is it missing?"
Nanami scanned over Satoru's figure, judging him fairly.
"You look like you're cosplaying a sheet of snow."
Satoru groaned and pivoted back to the mirror. "Advice maybe? You think jewellery will do the trick?"
"Probably," Nanami said, turning his attention back to his bag and throwing in a bottle of Advil.
Satoru rummaged through his closet, pulling out a box, and setting it on his desk. He opened it, sifting through miscellaneous artifacts and gathering the gold pieces like a crow.
After an agonizing duration of time comparing necklaces, rings, and bracelets alike, he finally put the box away, his body adorned in delicate gold.
He flopped onto his bed, an elbow propping his head up by the chin, and looked at Nanami placing leather loafers beside his neatly folded black suit and tie.
Satoru shifted onto his back, staring up at the ceiling before taking his phone from the bed to check the time. "Shoko won't get here for another hour and a half, should we go to the liquor store now?"
"I'll just tell Shoko to pick it up on the way here." Nanami slid into his rolling chair and unlocked his phone to type out a quick request.
"Nooo!" Satoru whined, rolling over to face him. "I wanted to go. It's like being in a candy store."
Nanami gave him a concerned look and pressed send on his message to Shoko. "Too late."
Satoru pouted, flipping back over, and opened 2048. He downloaded it to pass time in lectures, but slowly became addicted. He liked beating his high scores and planning out what the best move would be, watching the little numbered cubes slide and merge into a bigger number.
Without notice of how many rounds he played, or how many grumbles he let out in frustration, over an hour had passed and a knock sounded from the front door.
Satoru jumped up, completely abandoning his game and hopped to the door, swinging it open.
Shoko raised a brown paper bag, and shoved it into Satoru's arms with a light clink.
He moved to the kitchen counter and put the bag down, taking the bottles out to line them up. Malibu coconut rum and a bottle of Greygose. His electric eyes lit up at the sight of rum, his favorite. He says the malibu tastes like 'a vacation in a bottle' and guzzles it down like a glass of juice every time. He was never a big fan of alcohol for its bitter taste, but Malibu was smooth and fresh.
"You owe me for that," Shoko said, walking into the bedroom and putting her bags beside Nanami's bed.
He took out his phone and quickly made a direct deposit into her account as if he couldn't wait to get back to admiring the bottle. "Yeah, just sent it."
"Then come here and let me do your makeup."
"Can we pregame?" Satoru asked, with puppy-dog eyes and the rum pressed close to his chest.
"It's too early," Nanami said, walking up to the door frame. "The party starts at eight-thirty"
Satoru rolled his eyes. "Yeah, well, it's six. That's only like, two hours."
Shoko took the bottle away from him and put it in the fridge behind him. "Give it an hour."
He made a mocking frown and exasperated his words with a long, dramatic sigh, "fine."
She took a bottle of water before closing the fridge and tossed it to Satoru, beckoning him to follow her back to the room. Satoru followed and sat on the floor in the middle of the room, leaning his back against the edge of his mattress.
She opened her bag up and started pulling makeup products out one by one until there was a stack of cosmetics neatly arranged beside her. "What d'you want?"
Satoru shrugged, and grinned wide. "Just make me pretty and unforgettable. Not like I need much done, I'm already drop-dead gorgeous."
"Oh shut up," Shoko said, a smile breaking out on her face. "Just come closer."
Satoru shifted forward and waited patiently for her to make him a pretty princess. There wasn't much need for concealer on him, so all she did was apply a dab under his eyes to hide the surprising fact that he did study hard.
Half way through, when she was blending a gold hue over his eyelid with practiced ease, she inquired about his night the other day.
"So, you never told me about the club the other day. You go home with anyone?"
Satoru grimaced at the memory. It wasn't that being hit on bothered him, or that he usually held a grudge with people who didn't understand the concept of minding their own business. It was the words exchanged. "Men like you". He hadn't heard of any prominent rumours of himself, but he could take a wild guess as to what it is. Satoru wasn't particularly concerned with what people thought of him, but the idea that others thought of him as something easy didn't settle well with him.
"Nope. Some ugly guy kept hitting on me and wouldn't leave me alone and ruined my mood."
Shoko squeezed his cheeks. "Close your eyes."
He did as told and continued. "It was so embarrassing. I can't even count how many times I told him to leave. I had to resort to saying I had a boyfriend, and he didn't believe me. Like, how low can you get?"
Shoko swiped a big brush over a rosy pigment and tapped the excess powder off on the rim of the container before reaching up to Satoru's face and spreading it over the height of his cheekbones. "How'd you get him to leave then?"
"I told him my boyfriend was Suguru and he just kinda left. He probably knows him, so I do feel a little guilty, but whatever."
"Oh, you mean that Geto guy from the Physed department?" Shoko leaned back and took a look at the bigger picture of her canvas and decided all that was needed now was highlighter.
"Yeah, the one with the pretty hair."
"That's so unbelievable though. The guy must've known him or something 'cause there's no way he'd get with you."
Satoru gasped, putting a hand over his chest and trying to be sarcastic, but it did sting a bit. "Why wouldn't someone want to date me?"
"No, no, no. I didn't mean it like that." She waved a hand, trying to clear up the misunderstanding. "He's just known for getting around but apparently he's never actually dated anyone. I don't know, that's what the girls I know that share a class with him say."
"Oh," Satoru said with a lilt to his tone, a sound between relief and confusion. "Oh well, it got him away. I left after that."
Shoko tucked the corner of her lip up flatly and put the brush down. "I would've too. Guy's suck."
"Yeah, but not me," he teased.
"Sure, not you," Shoko said in a playful manner. She turned around and looked at Nanami lying over his sheets, a phone in hand. "I'm guessing you don't want any makeup?"
Nanami glanced over and shook his head, turning the offer down: "I'm good."
Shoko put her cosmetics back in her bag and crossed over into the bathroom, yelling out "I'll do mine then," before disappearing into the room. Not a moment later, music sounded from the crack in the door.
"So…" Satoru dragged out, turning to Nanami and piping up. "Pre-game?"
Nanami looked at him for a minute, contemplating before saying, "pre-game," and standing up.
Satoru beat him to the kitchen, even though it was only a few steps, and pulled three crystal shot glasses from the overhead cupboard. Nanami picked out a cup from beside Satoru and pulled chilled pineapple juice, rum, and vodka from the fridge.
Satoru lined the glasses on the counter before cracking the seal on the bottle of Malibu, measuring it into the glasses. Nanami poured a small cup of pineapple juice and nudged it toward Satoru before putting the carton back.
They picked the glasses up, cheering lightly and tapping it down on the wood before kicking it back. Satoru took a sip of the drink poured for him, a mix of coconut and pineapple on his tastebuds. Almost like pina colada.
Nanami took the third glass and strode a few steps over to knock on the ajar bathroom door.
Shoko opened it wider for him, revealing a ghastly pale face, the natural colour of her skin covered under a base. "what?"
He shoved out the glass to her. "Shot?"
She took it, threw it back, and handed the glass back to him. "Thanks. Refill, please!" she sang before pivoting around to work on bringing life back to her complexion.
Nanami turned back to the small wooden table that was more the size of a desk than a dinning table, and did as she requested.
"So, when are we heading out?" Satoru asked, sliding his empty glass toward Nanami with hope in his eyes.
Nanami raised the bottle, filling Satoru's cup just over the halfway point. "I don't know. It depends on when Shoko's ready."
The corner of Satoru's mouth pulled inward. "Shoko!" He yelled softly over his shoulder.
A "what?" Rang out from behind the cracked white door.
"When d'ya think you'll be ready?"
"Don't rush me." She barked back, turning her music up just a notch.
The boy clad in white shrugged. "Probably won't be more than an hour, right?"
Though his guess was close, it wasn't quite on the dot. And hour and thirty minutes later, Shoko packed up her cosmetics and rounded them up in the corner of the bed room.
Her face was still ghastly, but the crimson blush and particularly placed blood dribbling from her bottom lip brought out a certain allure that made her hauntingly beautiful. Her lids looked wet with burgundy gloss, and her eyes a somehow natural looking red with coloured contacts in.
Most of the time was spent trying to get them in, when she gave up, Nanami had to come and do it for her. He wasn't accustomed to it, but he had tried them on himself enough to know the trick in it.
She ran off to get her clothes after the dry feeling of them wore off and came out robbed in obsidian black and garnet red lace and silk. She fit the vampire look quite well, Satoru didn't spare the compliments to let her know.
With the time closing in to the anticipated party, Nanami dressed himself in a sleek black suit and tie closed over a pressed white blouse. Shoko helped to pin the cheap detective badge to his chest, and fit a hat atop his head. When he slipped his leather loafers on, Satoru was already waiting with the door wide open, ready to bounce.
—
"Girls are free right now, you two need to pay ten." A man leaning against the porch railing said, pointing at both the men but keeping his eyes on Shoko.
Satoru wrapped an arm around her waist and handed him twenty dollars. Shoko gave a hardly contained grimace at the touch but played along to save herself from a long night.
The man looked him up and down, then moved to the side to let them pass through.
The loud thumping of a bass that could be heard from outside became clearer, and Nanami almost pivoted to leave.
Shoko shook Satoru off, pulling Nanami further into the entryway, refusing to let him slip out so early.
Satoru gave him a once over and said, "If you leave within the first hour, you owe me ten bucks."
Nanami sighed inwardly and accepted his fate for the night as they waded through a small but growing crowd into a living room.
The house was obviously owned by someone with money given the size. Satoru was relieved at this. It was always a pain when too many people showed up in a small home. Bodies pressed too close, the room heating up like an oven.
They found a free couch and claimed their spot, Nanami and Shoko sitting for a bit before deciding on any movements.
Satoru, on the other hand, couldn't bear to waste a second.
"I'll be over there," he pointed to the kitchen with a thumb over his shoulder. "Or somewhere. I don't know, text me if you need me."
And just like that, he abandoned the two people he begged to come with him. But how could he possibly anchor himself to two friends when tonight was Halloween? He was buzzing at the idea of meeting someone in a mask or even playing those stupid games middle schoolers would do at youth group when they got too bored.
Going into the kitchen, he found a group of two. One was particularly stunning. He, though missing the masked mysterious costume Satoru had hoped to find, wore black and white face paint, resembling a skull. The black slacks and unbuttoned blouse fit taut over his muscles.
Face paint was close enough to a mask, and this man was just his type. He shot a wide smile and narrowed his eyes, walking up.
"Hi!" he started. "Care to drink with me?"
The two looked at him and welcomed him into the little circle with a step back.
"Sure," a woman dressed down in a joker costume said. "What are we having?"
"Well, I've got some Malibu." Satoru said, shaking the bottle at his side. "But if that isn't your taste, I have Vodka. That's about it, but I could find another bottle you'd like."
The man leaned back against the wall, arms uncrossing. "I like Malibu."
The woman at his side, though a comfortable and respectful distance away, spoke up. "I'm afraid I've never had it."
He unscrewed the cap and handed it to her. "Ah, then you need to try it. It's my favourite."
"You didn't drug it or nothing, right?"
"Me? No!" He laughed, taking it back to take a swig. "See? All fine, promise."
She accepted the offer and took a bit into her mouth, swishing it around a bit to get a better taste. "Oh, that is good."
"I know, right? I've got the best taste." Satoru's eyes flickered over to the man. He propped a hip against the table and reached his hand out.
"Satoru. It's nice to meet you…?" He introduced, ending with a question asking for his name.
The man shook his hand with a sly smile, grip lingering a little longer than a simple formality.
"Arata. And this is Izzy." He gestured to his friend.
"Nice to meet you, Izzy." Satoru said politely, but extended no hand.
Arata gave her a look, and she quickly caught the memo. "I think I see some of my friends, so I'm gonna go meet them. But it was nice to meet you Satoru!"
"Alright, don't drink too much!" He shouted back over the themed music as she skipped away.
Satoru took no time settling back into his small talk. "So… Arata, huh? You're also Japanese?"
"Yeah, came to Canada when I was six. What about you? Born here?"
"Yep. But I visit Japan once a year for family stuff."
Arata seemed to brighten at the mention that Satoru was familiar with the culture.
"Nihongo wakaru?" (Do you speak Japanese?)
"Kekkō hanaseru yo. Tameshite miru?" (I can speak it pretty well. Want to test me?)
Arata's eyes lit up like a child's on a white Christmas morning. Probably ecstatic at the opportunity to speak his native language when he's constantly surrounded by English speakers.
Arata slid the palm that was pressed against the white marble further down the table and turned to his side to face Satoru. "Ureshii na. Nihongo de hanashite yo." (I like that. Talk to me in Japanese.)
"Sonna ni? Jaa tokubetsu ni," (You want it that much? Alright, just for you.) Satoru spoke honey dripping from his lips, leaning in closer to drop his voice a pitch.
Reverberations of tunes blasting could be felt through the cold marble and even the wooden floor boards. All of it set an atmosphere that meant stirring up trouble and forgetting they were responsible adults for the night.
The corner of his mouth lifted into that sly smirk he showed Satoru earlier. "…Zuruine, sore." (…That's unfair, you know. — basically saying he's good at flirting.)
"Hey!"
Satoru didn't notice someone storming up behind him. He couldn't feel the footfall against the floorboards, nor hear it over the bouquet of noise. When a rough hand came down hard on his shoulder, he whipped his head around in agitation. Then — he flinched back in fear.
Oh fuck. Oh fuckfuckfuckfuckfuckfuck.
The hand faltered in its grip, softening to a rest. The anger that was seeping between the man's brow softened to what looked like being stunned.
"Sorry I'm late, babe."
Satoru looked at him in astonishment, completely at a loss for words. He hastily snapped back to Arata, who was now looking at him like he just gave him a sac of coal. He backed up, took his bottle from the table, and bowed.
"I- um… I'm so sorry. I didn't know he was taken." He rambled before bolting off into the crowd, giving Satoru a look of disgust that made his face burn with embarrassment on his way out.
Satoru flipped his attention back to the man. He wishes a hole would open up and drag him far away from this situation.
That black, inky half-do, matching gauges, burly build and refined stature. Oh, he was so fucked. It was Suguru Geto.
Satoru had prayed that his mishap from the other day wouldn't come back to bite him in the ass, but of course nothing goes well. Ever.
At first he was terrified, what with knowing one of the things he's popular for is his outstanding performance in jujutsu. But…
Did he just say "sorry I'm late, babe"?
Satoru turned to him and took a step back. "Sorry, do I know you?" He definitely does.
Suguru flashed him a smug smile and took a step forward, like he was being reeled in. "Awh, don't be like that. I said I was sorry for being late."
Satoru looked to the side, and sure enough, nothing ever goes well. A few people were standing by the side, watching. Eating the display up like they had nothing better to do. A cheating boyfriend, how delightful that will sound all over campus.
He gritted his molars and put on a playful smile. Stepping back in, he rested a hand high up on the other's arm. "You scared me, don't come up behind me like that."
Suguru looked at him in a way that wasn't entirely sinister or confrontational. It was as if he was looking at a mouse that had been causing a mess in his home, finally stuck between the wood and metal of a trap.
"Sorry," he said, slithering an arm around his waist. He leaned in closer, breath hot on his ear, and dropped his voice to a whisper: "aren't you going to introduce your boyfriend to your friends?"
Now, Satoru wasn't one to get flustered. He was obnoxious in his own right and had very little to fret over, but this? This was worrying.
"Dude, what are you doing?" Satoru hissed back in a hushed voice.
"Going along with what you started."
Suguru lifted his head, and started walking back into the living room with Satoru in tow.
Satoru had two choices. One was to shake him off and go back to his night. The other was to play along.
After about a second of debate, he walked with him. He was going to go along with it for now. Partly because Satoru was a sucker for stupid games and men his type, but mostly because the man who was hitting on him at the bar last week appeared in his peripheral view. He'd much rather indulge Suguru than deal with whatever he might bring on.
If Suguru were an idiot, Satoru would think this was a funny joke he'd get a kick out of later. But the man probably isn't and is fully aware his friends would know if he was dating someone or might have even told them about his shameless lie. He had no idea what Suguru's goal here was, but he could make an inference that it's to make a fool of Satoru.
Nanami was still on the couch, easy to spot. Clearly he had noticed them with the way his brow arched in a questioning manner.
"Who's this?" Nanami asked, sitting up in a better posture.
Satoru gestured to the two of them while speaking, "This is Suguru. Suguru, this is Nanami."
Suguru reached an arm out casually, and Nanami took it. "Nice to meet you, Nanami. I'm Satoru's boyfriend."
Nanami pressed his lips into a thin line. Satoru couldn't be sure if it was to suppress a rare laugh or if it was a sign of awkwardness that signalled 'tell me later'.
"I see." Nanami had no choice but to go along with it, albeit confused on what the situation truly was now. "I didn't know he had one."
Suguru smiled and retrieved his hand, sliding it into the black slacks clinging to his waist. "Makes sense. We only started dating a week ago."
Satoru pinched the fabric of Suguru's compression shirt and pulled it back to let go and let it snap lightly against the skin underneath.
"Sorry I didn't tell you earlier. It's recent so I was keepin' it to myself."
Nanami nodded and clasped his hands over his lap. "Right. I understand."
The tension was high, but no one really knew the stakes. The thump thump thump of the music swallowed the silence that would have stretched otherwise. The small amount of alcohol consumed masked any nervous ticks Satoru had, aiding in his public display of familiarity with Suguru.
Nanami got up, speaking. "Shoko just went into the other room if you wanted to say hi."
Suguru perked up. "Oh, Shoko? I think I have a class with her."
"Maybe. She's in pre-med." Satoru said.
"Well, I'll be off now." Nanami smiled and turned away to move into another room and sit there. Clearly, he didn't want to get roped into whatever Satoru started.
"Nanami seems nice."
"Yeah, real nice," Satoru scoffed. "He's always lecturing me about something. I'm surprised you didn't get one."
Suguru took the lead into the other room, pulling Satoru through the increasing sea of people.
"I don't think I've done anything to deserve one?"
"He could give you a lesson on manners."
"Does that mean you should get one on respect?" Suguru jabbed.
Satoru fell silent and then rolled his eyes. "Ugh, what-ever," he dragged, separating the syllables.
Satoru naturally slipped out of Suguru's light grip, and went up to an area of armchairs and a couch. Shoko was sitting on the brown leather with a group of people.
She immediately noticed him in his all white outfit. "'Toru!"
Someone beside her was downing a Corona as if their only goal for the night was to wake up not knowing what happened.
Satoru sat up on the armrest of the couch and leaned back. "Hey Sho'. Whacha doing?"
She pushed the person she was talking to on the couch over to the side gently and leaned towards Satoru. "They wanna play seven minutes in heaven and I want an excuse to kiss this girl beside me."
His eyes lit up with mischief, a playful expression sprawling onto his face. Leaning over, he nudged at Shoko. "Count me in."
Suguru, who had gone unnoticed beside him, spoke up. "You don't mind if I play too, right?"
Shoko did a double take, then looked at Satoru. She had a look that screamed do you need help? But Satoru shrugged and said, "he's my boyfriend for the night. But he's chill."
Shoko's mouth involuntarily opened, an eyebrow creeping up high.
Satoru shrugged. "It just kind of happened."
"We have a class together, right?" Suguru asked her, sitting down in the free armchair at the side.
She thought for a moment, reaching for her red solo cup (the ones Nanami packed). "I think we might have physiology together. Professor Amrit?"
"Yes, I'm in that one. I'll say hi next time I see you there."
Shoko nursed her cup, taking a small sip. "Sure. I'll do the same."
The man who was drinking beer spun an empty brown glass bottle on the cherry wood coffee table. "Enough with the small talk," he said. "Wanna play or not?"
Shoko gave him an attitude for his rude way of speaking. "Yeah, if it wasn't obvious."
He didn't seem to care and moved on with game play instructions of what variation they were playing. "We'll go counter clockwise. You spin, whoever it lands on is who you go with. Seven minutes. The pantry over there," he pointed to a room not far off from where they were. "It's got nothing in it, so don't worry."
Seems like he's the host, or knows them.
"Lights are off but you can use a phone light. Sound good?"
Everyone nodded along to his explanation of the game.
"Without further ado" he smiled wide, spinning the bottle. It spun 'round and 'round, finally landing on one of the six people engaged. The girl looked at the bottle, then back up to him, clearly uninterested, but who knows?
Satoru took the reins, getting them into the closet. Before shutting the door, he waved a timer with seven minutes and clicked start.
"Any bets?" He asked, sitting back down beside Shoko.
"Nothing is happening in there," she laughed. "Did you see her face?"
Suguru hummed. "I don't know. I think he'll get a peck or two."
"No, she was clearly uninterested," she argued.
Suguru leaned back. "You never know, the dark might cover his face well enough."
"Okay, at most a peck. But that's it."
-
Satoru's phone lit up, the timer making it buzz around on the table.
He knocked on the door, and not a minute later the two of them came out.
The guy had a smug look on his face, the girl a little more flushed than she went in.
"I called it," Suguru muttered from the chair.
Shoko let it go and ignored him.
Next up was the girl Shoko had been chatting with. She flicked the bottle and… it landed right on the guy that just went in. She sighed, and spun it again. This time, it landed on Shoko.
Without any instructions or timer set, they jumped up and fled into the closed room.
Suguru let out a low laugh. "Should we even set a timer or do we just start using another room?"
Satoru reset the clock. "Timer. Without it, she'll be there all night."
No bets were placed on this round, it was obvious they were waiting for this chance.
When the timer went off, Satoru reluctantly knocked on the door, yelling, "it's been seven minutes!"
A few minutes later, they came shuffling out and said their goodbyes for the night.
Seems like it went pretty well in there, he thought.
As per order, it was Satoru's time to shine. He threw the neck of the bottle into a spin, watching it go 'round, and 'round, and 'round again.
It slowed its rotation and landed near Suguru. Satoru didn't know what he was expecting considering the other two people left in the circle were nowhere near his type. One wasn't even in the same ballpark. There was something about Suguru that agitated him. The way he was trying to make a fool out of him. But another part of him liked it. There was a sort of intrigue that came with acting out this play. It was a thrilling feeling, lying and playing coy. Maybe that's what dragged him to this very couch. Maybe that's why he touched the cold glass and spun it around. Or maybe it was just the alcohol and a need for some excitement in his life. Whatever it was, it didn't matter. This was likely the only time of the night he could get Suguru alone and sort out what the hell is going on.
He lifted his eyes to the man beside him. The irises Satoru had originally thought were nearly black revealed a deep amethyst under the overhead light. The kind of authentic AAA grade blue-violet amethyst you only see in museums.*
Suguru stood from the chair, leaving a small indent in the worn-out leather and offered his hand out low. "You coming?"
Satoru blinked the thought back and rose with a sly smile. "Eager, aren't we?"
He took his hand and stepped forward, leading him along like a dog on a leash.
"I'll set the timer," he said over his shoulder, not putting much trust into the two still seated at the table.
A "'kay," sounded from behind him.
The door opened with a twist of the handle and closed just as quickly. Satoru dropped Suguru's hand and turned his phone flashlight on, setting the seven minute countdown.
The dimly lit room didn't reveal much. Only a few boxes of cereal and some canned beans lined the shelving. It wasn't a lot for a pantry you could take three paces in. He set his phone down on one of the empty shelves and turned to Suguru. He was already facing him, looking like he wanted to say something, but Satoru beat him to it.
"What's your deal?"
He took a pause, then spoke as if he was trying to gauge something. "My deal? You started the rumor that we were dating. I'm just playing along."
Satoru sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. He was ready to swallow his pride and apologize. "Look, I didn't mean anything by that. Someone wouldn't stop hitting on me and insisted I told them who I was dating, so I said it was you. I didn't mean to start anything, I was just trying to enjoy my night."
"At my expense?"
Satoru paused his movement. Before, there wasn't much of anything to feel about what he said. It was just a white lie that wouldn't be harming anyone. But now, he felt a miniscule pang of guilt in the pit of his stomach. Was he really any different than the people he hated so much? Yes. Yes he was. He didn't mean anything by it. Slip of the tongue. But it pressed a button he kept hidden. He felt somewhat cornered and defenseless; because in all honesty, this was his fault and if it was causing Suguru problems, he was responsible. He meant to be a good person tonight, he did. But what was the fun in that? Stripping your pride off like a coat and handing it over to be hung up?
"Expense? People would kill to date me. If anything, it should help those rumors about you."
Sugru clenched his jaw, muscle taunt against bone. He gave a false smile, his eyes completely level. Satoru couldn't tell if he was getting a kick out of it, or if he was trying to keep his calm.
He spoke with a smooth tone, fondant rolled to a thin sheet, and closed in by a step. "Yeah? And what makes you so special?"
Satoru titled his head up slightly, a cocky smirk playing on his lips. "Everything. I'm hot, great in bed, rich, and crazy smart. Who wouldn't want a piece of this?"
Suguru sucked on a small piece of his cheek, an all knowing smile forming at the corner of his lip like he rigged a bet and the call was to be made soon. He tilted his head to the side, speaking slow and controlled. "And yet you're playing boyfriend with me." His gaze that hadn't left Satoru's from the moment they met eyes trailed down to his lips, following the same path on the way back up. He leaned in closer. Not by a lot, but a centimeter; as if caught in a gravitational pull he had yet to realize he fell victim to. "Are you really that capable if you can't find one honestly?"
Satoru raised his brows in half surprise and half intrigue. Be it the alcohol, playlist, something new and shiny, or the concept of the game, Satoru found himself caught in the same pull like two masses of equal weight spiralling toward each other, each movement mirrored in the other.* He resigned the head tilt, lowering it to look down on the figure in front of him.
"Oh, I'm capable," he purred in a low tone, his face just inches from the other's. He smelt of frankincense smoke and the dust of crushed lavender petals.
Suguru slid his foot between Satoru's, taking the open opportunity to come nearly flush against his chest, hovering a tempting distance away. The closed room muffled the music enough for Suguru's voice to drop two levels and still be heard in that sultry tone. "I'm more of a hands-on learner." He pulled back by a hairsbreath, continuing with a teasing lilt. "If you're willing to demonstrate, that is."
Satoru brought a hand to the other's pale skin, his thumb barely grazing the corner of his eye, staring intensely into them. An unspoken communication that almost looked as if he was searching for something, but he found no impurities.
Then, like an obsidian blade* slicing through a taut silk string, he disregarded any pride he held. He rushed down, pressing his soft, glossy rose lips against the others. His free hand shot to Suguru's waist, the others' arms wrapping around the slender silhouette and leaving everlasting creases in the white fabric.
There was nothing tender about the moment, hands gripped and roamed over clothes, desperate to feel the warmth underneath.
Like a geologist grabbing hold of a million year old rock too circular, carefully placed hills and valleys extruding from the surface, satoru snaked his fingers under the fitted nylon shirt hugging the others' waist as if brushing dirt from stone with avid excitement.
He rubbed his fingers along the top of his hip bone, determined to explore more.
As if it quantified consent, Suguru did the same. A lazy finger rimmed the edge of satoru's slacks, lightly letting the waist band snap back against pale skin. His other hand took kindly to the surprisingly defined muscles on Satoru's back, mapping out where his shoulderblades ended and wondering if maybe he really did have wings in another life. He was beautiful enough to make someone seriously consider his origins.
Satoru slipped a hand behind Suguru's head, knotting itself between inky strands and pushing his head near. Satoru turned his head to the side, letting him in close enough for their teeth to bump. But the sound of pearls clacking and wet desperate licks were anything but a turn off.
Suguru nipped the angel's bottom lip, slowly tugging it back. Satoru looked at him in a daze, a deep red blush painted across his skin. Before he could think of saying anything, Suguru came back down, licking the edge of his lip in question.
Satoru parted his mouth, letting Suguru's ruby red tongue pass in permission. He slid against satoru's, licking the roof of his mouth lightly. Satoru let out a choked whine from the back of his throat, it being swallowed by the other. He could taste a faint trace or cigarettes, but surprisingly no alcohol.
Satoru was pushed up against the shelves behind him, a can knocking over and rolling to a thud on the floor. Neither of them paid any mind to it. Both of their shirts were ridding up, small beads of sweat and anticipation dripping down aching skin begging to be held in the heat of the room that kept rising and rising.
A knee slid between Satoru's, in response he groaned, his grip tightening on Suguru's skin. With zero hesitation, his own knee ground against the growing bulge in Suguru's pants.
Suguru groaned into Satoru's mouth, the sound licked up and eaten by him.
Just then— his phone rang. The shelf buzzed along with a ring, ring, ring.
Suguru reluctantly pulled off, reaching to turn the alarm off and wrap this up like a living creature that would squirm under the paper, trying to wiggle its way back out into the open. But Satoru didn't let him tuck this moment away. He grabbed him by the collar, fiercely urging him back. Suguru braced himself on the wooden shelf behind the others white hair, a foot slipping to stop himself from toppling over and adding pressure to the place between the others legs.
Satoru grunted, but returned the favour. His tongue greedily licked inside the other's mouth, sounds of hot, slick saliva being shared echoed in the small room. Suguru reached to press the off button on the side of Satoru's phone, silencing the warning timer.
He took Satoru's cerise pink tongue and sucked on it, the faint taste of coconut and a bite of rum on his taste buds.
Suguru held Satoru's waist under his unkept blouse, pressing him closer to him. It was electrifying, sending shivers down Satoru's spine. A man, his exact type, kissing him as if trying to devour him whole; warm hands pressing into his skin with bold and solid decisions; the spiced yet calming scent lingering on him; it wasn't like anything he had experienced before. People came at him with determination, but there was always a hint of hesitation, maybe it was guilt for trying to aim at something. But this? This felt like a genuine crave for touch, not money. It didn't even feel like he wanted to use his body either, it felt like a band had finally snapped after being pulled tighter slowly over time, straining for release.
He didn't relent when a knock sounded from the dark wooden door. Hungry hands palming the black trousers straining against Suguru's length. Suguru let out a low groan and rushed for the pale, smooth skin of Satoru's neck. He licked a hot stripe along it before biting down on a piece and sucking it in. Satoru wove a hand through his inky black strands, gently tugging on them and awarding a soft moan.
"Dude."
The two of them shot their heads over to the door, muted light flooding in through the opening. The man from earlier stood between the frame, an unpleasant look on his face.
"It's been well over seven minutes."
Satoru took a moment, standing like he was caught in the act of a love affair and utterly at a loss for words from the buzzing in his head.
"Sorry. We didn't think you'd still be playing," Suguru said, turning to face the entrance, his hand lazily resting on Satoru's waist.
"Well, we are. If you two aren't playing anymore, then go find a different room."
Satoru grinned, snapping out of it. "Will do," he said, waltzing out of the pantry with Suguru in hand.
When they passed the table where other people had been recruited to play, he ignored the all knowing glances and gossip. He just picked up his bottle from the low table and skipped on into the other room.
Satoru snickered, finding the most unbothered part of the house he could.
Suguru bowed his head down, concealing a smile and giving a quick snort. "If you weren't so greedy we wouldn't have been caught."
"I thought you wanted people to see me all over you?" Satoru taunted, leaning against the wall and bringing the bottle to his lips.
Suguru's gaze lingered on the scene of Satoru licking the rim of the bottle neck after taking a swig of it down. "I didn't say I was upset about it."
"So, do you think I'm capable now?" Satoru said snuggly, brushing under his nose with his pointer finger.
Suguru took a step forward, disregarding any shame, and trapping Satoru in a small space. "Not sure. I think your kissing could use some practice, but I wouldn't know if your performance is better under the sheets."
A mischievous grin bloomed across Satoru's lips, a finger lightly trailing down Suguru's chest. "Wanna find out?"
"Is this your way of inviting me over?"
"Are you telling me you don't want to?"
"I never said that."
Suguru looked down on satoru, an intimidating devotion of attention all directed to him. For a beat, that tension held high between them, being realized in full. A thumping vibration was consistent on the floor boards, reverberations felt through Satoru's whole body. He couldn't tell if the ba-thump in his ears was the bass or his own heartbeat, but he was sure it was a mixture of both.
Despite his nervousness, Satoru grinned wide and cocky and leaned in, his breath hot against Suguru's ear. "Then come with me, I'll give you a performance you'll never forget."
With that, Suguru took his hand and waded their way through the crowd and out the front door.
On the frosted-over lawn, Suguru took a set of keys from his pocket and dangled them on his ring finger, glancing behind him, not stopping his stride. "I'll drive, you give directions."
Satoru nearly stumbled over a crushed can in his path, but quickly caught himself. A blush crept up over his cheeks, but he pushed the thought of nearly embarrassing himself just now in front of someone he had decided within the first five minutes of meeting, was the most beautiful man he had and ever will meet.
At the side of the curb, Suguru opened a sleek black car door, and stepped aside, gesturing for him to take the passenger seat.
Satoru slid his legs over the leather interior and fastened his seatbelt with a click. Suguru gently shut the door for him, and rounded over the front of the vehicle.
Sitting there, Satoru heard that ba-thump again; this time he was sure it was his own heartbeat. He clutched the seat belt low, watching as Suguru made his way over to the driver's seat with haste.
He couldn't understand why he was so nervous. He had slept with men before, it was nothing new to him. Even going home with someone he met thirty minutes prior was somewhat normal if they fit the intense criteria.
The cold inside the car nipped at his flushed skin, helping him focus on what was going on. He met a man that effortlessly checked off all the strict boxes he set for potential one-night-stands. That man was now driving him to Satoru's dorm. And they were going to have sex — then maybe have it graded afterward as if Suguru were a professor in sexual education.
Now that he really lined it all up, he was able to understand where the nerves might come from. He's always been judged, be it from the way he wears his clothes or the way he eats his food. But sex was the one freedom he had in life. No one was there to correct his posture, tell him to refine his words, nor give him orders. But what the two promised in the house sounded like that judgement might bleed into the one thing he had control over. Didn't mean he wasn't going to take up the once-in-a-lifetime chance to sleep with him, though.
So, when Suguru shuffled into his seat, Satoru brushed the feeling under the carpet to dissect later if he felt up to it.
Suguru turned his keys in the ignition, and the car spurted up. "Where are we headed?"
"The dorms at JJT (jujutsu tech)," satoru said, reaching for the phone on his lap. "I'll pull up directions if you need it."
Suguru turned the seat heaters on for both of them and tossed over a cord. "It's alright, I know where that is. You can plug your phone in and play your music, if you'd like."
"What're you feeling?" Satoru said, plugging the phone in and letting Suguru give permission for aux.
Suguru shrugged back into his seat, pulling out of his parking spot. "Whatever you want."
Scrolling through playlists, Satoru hummed in thought. He figured this was the type of guy that would be into older jams, but he still wanted a more sensual atmosphere in case the allure of sex wore off listening to Britney Spears. He set a playlist full of Chicago blues on and looked over for confirmation.
Suguru nodded like he was proud of him. "You've got good taste. I love Eddies Rush."
"Yeah, weird band name though. I wonder how they came up with Ultimate Spinach."
Suguru laughed, flicking his turn signals on. "It's about what you'd expect. One of the members, Ian Bruce-Douglas, had a psychedelic experience on LSD and drew on his face. Then he looked in the mirror and said 'I am ultimate spinach. Ultimate spinach is me!', and I guess the moment really moved him."
A short huff of a laugh came from Satoru. "I don't know what I expected, but it was something like that. You've gotta be on something to make music like this."
The driver hummed in agreement, taping the steering wheel once. "Their riffs are really good."
"I know, right? Imagine fucking to this song? It'd be transcendent."
"You think so?" Suguru glanced over from the road to him, a smile unfurling on his lips. "I don't mind listening to this song twice."
Satoru shifted in his seat, reaching an arm over the back of Suguru's headrest. "Or, we could listen to it just once." He curled a lock of black hair around his pointer finger, slowly twirling it around, eyes studying Suguru's features under a new light.
Suguru leaned leisurely in his seat, shifting his legs further out. With delicate and deliberate movement, his hand invaded Satoru's personal bubble that had long since popped, and rested atop his thigh just above his knee. "Careful now, I'm driving." He said, low and seductively, as if he were hinting at something rather than keeping Satoru in check. Lightly, he brushed his fingers along Satoru's inner thigh, keeping a respectable distance from tonight's prize, and dragged them back down. He squeezed his thigh with sparing pressure and slowly rubbed with his palm almost absentmindedly.
Satoru's heart did flips in his stomach, a hint of pink brushing his features. The air grew increasingly thick with each word he let fall, coated in practiced charm, "I'm not careful." He exchanged the favour, lazily dragging finger tips across Suguru's outer thigh, stopping just below the hip. He crept back down, fingers curling into his inner lower thigh in a slow kneading squeeze.
Suguru's jaw clenched, his hand gripping the wheel a nearly unnoticeable flinch tighter. Before he could say something in counter, Satoru brought his lips close to his ear. "Am I bothering you, Suguru?" His voice was low, just below a whisper, and laced with a taunting tone. Testing the waters further, he steadily slid his palm further up, moving slower and slower the farther from his knee he got.
Suguru straightened up his posture, almost unnoticeably as if simply relieving stress on his lower back, not reacting to Satoru's fervent touch. He pulled a corner of his lip up, looking at Satoru's electric blue eyes when he stopped in front of a red light. "Not unless you stop," he admitted, slipping his own hand further up Satoru's mid thigh and kneeling lightly, fleeting like a dragonfly scratching the surface of still water.
Satoru slowly inched his hand down his thigh and teased a firm but sensual grip. He wasn't sure if Suguru's words were permission to touch up higher, and if he knew the man any better he would have gone straight for it. But he met him only an hour ago and wasn't keen on the idea of fumbling this golden opportunity. Tapping his fingers on the other's knee cap, he whispered, "you want me to touch you?" It was straight forward, asking for decisive consent.
He drank in the suggestive look Suguru crafted unto his features, the light casting soft hues of red onto his pale skin, the contrast of his obsidian bangs against it all, and those narrow purple eyes that spoke depths that couldn't be reached and explored in full, like the history of a nebula.
The moment was brief, before the light glitched green, and Suguru looked back to the road.
Suguru hummed, seemingly thinking but Satoru knew he was dragging it out and dangling the idea of a 'no' even though he had his answer prepared.
He tapped the wheel thrice, and answered with a question. "Do you want to touch me?" He said it in a slightly provocative way, making Satoru's stomach twinge at being put on the spot, all decisions counting on him.
Satoru wasn't clueless when it came to social ques, he knew Suguru wasn't flipping the question to stall for time, but to tighten the tension. There was even the possibility he was doing it to try and fluster him, make him mess up. But he wasn't going to.
He leaned back in his seat, hand still resting atop Suguru's thigh. "If I didn't, I wouldn't be in your car right now," he said casually, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world and there was no need for dancing around the idea.
"Good thing we're here, then." Suguru smiled, pulling into a visitation parking spot.