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He tastes like stale cigarettes and bitter dark roast. Takeda isn’t sure where the steam ends and where the smoke begins, all wafting up into the dingy kitchen air and clouding around their heads in a thick, pungent fog.
Takeda watches as Ukai taps the butt of the cigarette over the ashtray. He lets his wrist rest on the edge of the table as he picks up his mug with his free hand. Takeda has to hold back a grimace as Ukai tips his head back and gulps, watching the bob of his throat as he swallows. Before the mug even touches the kitchen table again, Ukai’s bring the cigarette back between his lips.
This cycle repeats itself at least four times, Takeda watching from over the edge of his own luke-warm coffee. Inhale, exhale, tap, drink, swallow. It’s completely mechanical, all done while Ukai simultaneously reads some sports article off of his phone.
Ukai blows more smoke out, this time directly into Takeda’s face. He coughs, and finally, the pattern of inhale-exhale-tap-drink-swallow is interrupted.
“Oh. Sorry. Forgot you don’t like smoke.” He snuffs out the half-finished cigarette into the ashtray, little sparks of flame flickering across the darkened ash. He brings the mug back up to his mouth and drinks again.
“Why don’t you just stir the coffee with the cigarette? It’ll save you some time.” Ukai looks up at Takeda from over the edge of his mug.
“Uh, because that sounds fucking gross?”
“I didn’t realize this could potentially get grosser.” Ukai rolls his eyes and starts clicking his lighter with his free hand.
“Listen, sensei. I do my thing, you do yours. I know it’s shit for you, whatever. Hear it every fuckin’ day. Don’t you get on my case about it, too.” Ukai stands from the table, grabbing his lighter and cigarettes before moving to the open kitchen window above the countertop. He leans over the windowsill, elbows propped up against the wood, and lights another cigarette. He blows the smoke out into the morning air, and Takeda watches as it wafts up into the sky.
“It’s not the cigarettes that bother me, it’s the coffee and the cigarettes together. That can’t possibly taste nice.” Takeda stands from his seat at the table as well, collecting both their mugs and sticking them in the sink. He watches Ukai as he turns his head to look at him from over his shoulder, eyebrows and lips drawn into an expression Takeda would describe as smug and suspicious.
“You won’t know until you try.” Takeda wipes his hands on a towel above the sink, staring at Ukai’s offering of half a used cigarette. He holds his hand up in refusal.
“I’m fine. Thank you, though. I’ve tried in the past. It’s something I can’t stomach.” Ukai has the audacity to grin, like he thinks something’s funny, and it disturbs Takeda that he can’t quite understand what.
“Mhm. A’ight then. Suit yourself.” Ukai turns back to the window and takes another long drag from the cigarette, looking almost deliberate, and Takeda has to watch the way the smoke spills out from between his lips as he exhales audibly. Takeda swallows.
“But, you know. I’ve never heard you complain about the taste before.” Ukai pulls the cigarette out from between his lips and placing it between his index and middle finger. He turns around and leans backwards against the kitchen counter, wrist hanging limply off the windowsill. Takeda follows the the trail of smoke from Ukai’s hand into the air above his head.
“I. I’m not quite sure what you mean.” Ukai grins all crooked again, like Takeda amuses him or something. He puts his hand up to his mouth again, dangling the cigarette between his lips.
“Bullshit, sensei. Don’t play innocent with me, it’s Sunday, and you’re standing in my kitchen, in my t-shirt and my shorts.” Ukai bites his lip, lopsided grin spreading wider across his cheeks. Takeda inhales, like he’s taking smoke into his lungs, shortness of breath catching in the back of his throat. He takes an involuntary step forward.
“I’m pretty sure you know what coffee and cigarettes taste like together at this point, second-handedly at least.”
And Takeda does. He tastes like stale smoke and bitter dark roast, always, a taste tucked in between every tooth and on the tip of Ukai’s tongue. He tastes it on chapped lips, on tanned skin beneath Ukai’s collar, yeah, Takeda knows what cigarettes and coffee taste like. Second handedly at least.
Takeda takes another involuntary step forward, and Ukai’s shifting the cigarette between his lips to the other side of his mouth. He’s widening his stance, like he’s egging Takeda on; come closer.
“Well. I might need a reminder. So I can decide if I like it or not.” Takeda takes the last involuntary steps towards the kitchen window, and Ukai closes that distance immediately, wrapping arms loosely around Takeda’s waist. The scent of cigarettes and ash is heavy on Ukai’s clothing, imbedded deep in the fabric and staining the shirt. There’s the slightest hint of lavender, almost like Ukai is embarrassed of the stench, covering it up with cheap convenience store freshening spray. It’s strangely endearing; Takeda might even call it familiar.
“I have an idea.” Ukai pulls the cigarette out from between his lips, dangling it between his fingers. “You have to tell me if you don’t like it, though.” Takeda raises a brow, lips curling into a suspicious smirk of his own.
“When have ever disapproved of an idea? As a further of education, I’m conditioned to consider all ideas and suggestions.” Ukai rolls his eyes, hands running up Takeda’s back to press at the base of his neck.
“It’s Sunday. Day off. Loosen up, will you?”
“Well, help me relax on my Sunday off, then.” Ukai chuckles, and Takeda watches as he draws the cigarette back up to his mouth. Suddenly, the prospect of smoking doesn’t seem as unappealing as it did fifteen minutes ago.
“Close your eyes, then.” Ukai reaches up and runs a calloused thumb over the rise of Takeda’s cheek bones, thick lashes fluttering down to kiss the tips of his finger.
Please don’t hate this, this could be so hot please don’t hate this Ukai thinks to himself frantically, taking a drag of the cigarette between his lips. He pulls it away from his face, holding in the smoke in as he leans down. He’s can’t breathe, not just to keep the smoke from slipping out, but because there’s still something about doing anything with Takeda that makes his nerves quiver, the way that Takeda’s spine arcs, the practiced lazy roll of his hips, it makes Ukai’s blood rush with the thrill of you’re totally fucking the teacher.
It’s more addictive than nicotine.
Ukai runs a thumb over Takeda’s mouth, edging the tip between his lips to get them to part. The tip of a small, pink tongue darts out to kitten lick along his finger, and it isn’t like Takeda’s never sucked on his fingers before, but it makes Ukai hiss, and the fact that this isn’t new makes it even more filthy.
You’re totally fucking the teacher, and you’re totally fucked up.
Ukai steadies his hand on Takeda’s chin, hopes that his arm isn’t shaking because he really doesn’t want to fuck this up. He leans in closer, closer, until he can smell his shampoo in Takeda’s hair, his soap scent in the juncture of his neck. Ukai braces himself.
Slowly, he parts his lips, breathing out slow and deliberately. White smoke swirls in the small distance between their mouths, and Ukai can feel the wet gasp from Takeda as the heavy scent of cigarette envelopes their heads.
Ukai gives him credit for not dashing to the complete opposite corner of the apartment to gag and get fresh air. Takeda sputters a little, but for the most part he remains where he is, Ukai’s hand still cupping the bottom of his jaw, mouths still nearly touching, but not quite there. Honey-colored eyes finally flutter open, and Ukai thinks they look glassed, unfocused and not fully there. Takeda licks his lips.
“Well. That was definitely-”
“It’s outta my system. We don’t have to do it again.” Ukai sputters, guilt knocking the knobs of his spine out of place.
“-surprising. But. I guess I understand the appeal this way.” Takeda has the gall to look up at him through those thick-rimmed glasses, smirk curling terribly on his lips. Ukai looks back down at him, an expression that can only probably be described as a what the fuck face.
He doesn’t say anything, forgotten cigarette leaving a burn mark in the cheap counter linoleum. Takeda keeps looking up at him expectantly, and Ukai has to wonder expecting what, what could he want, what-
“Aren’t we going to finish that cigarette?” Ukai looks down at his hand, looks down at his second half-done cigarette for the morning.
“You want to?” Ukai feels like he’s hearing things.
And Takeda shrugs. Fucking shrugs. All nonchalant like yeah, sure, I guess I’l shotgun with you, whatever. Ukai can’t figure out how else to react but laugh. He hangs his head low and shakes his head, shoulders shaking with laughter.
Un-fucking-believable. You’re totally fucking the teacher, and he’s totally fucked up.
Takeda’s still looking up at him with those huge, warm eyes, like he’s waiting for something. Ukai sighs and gives in, as if it weren’t his shit idea in the first place. He brings the cigarette back between his lips and inhales. Below him, Takeda tenses beneath his hold, draws a lip between his teeth, eyes narrowing just the slightest. Ukai leans down again, and this time, Takeda responds by leaning up, pressing his hands against the flat of his chest, lips parted and ready.
“What’s up?” The smoke slips out from between his lips and into Takeda’s mouth, white ghostly swirl ebbing out from the corners and around his chin. This time, Takeda doesn’t cough at all, just moans light in the back of his throat as the smoke coats his tongue and teeth with a taste that is so Ukai.
“I just noticed. You look really good smoking.”
“Huh?” Takeda has the audacity to blush.
“I mean- You’re always smoking, so I never really noticed but. It looks hot. You. Smoking. You. Look hot.” The last cloud of smoke’s dissipated around Takeda’s mouth, and Ukai can see more clearly the color rising in his face, the faint flush coloring the pale skin of his neck. traveling beneath the too-wide neckline of his borrowed shirt. Ukai grins, twiddling the cigarette in his hand.
“You don’t say….” He files it away for a bit, and raises his hand back to his mouth.
Takeda catches his wrist, hand shaking just a bit.
“Wait. Can I-” He reaches for the cigarette, and Ukai wants to shoot himself.
“What are you doing?”
“I wanted to try doing it to you.”
“Have you even ever smoked a cigarette before?” Takeda makes a face like he’s offended.
“I’m 29. I’ve smoked plenty of things. Just because I don’t like it doesn’t mean I haven’t done it.”
Ukai makes some mental side note about making some arrangement to get Takeda stoned just so he can see what it’s like. While Ukai’s distracted, Takeda grabs the cigarette from between his fingers and brings it to his lips.
Ukai almost takes out his phone to record a video. Ittetsu Takeda-Sensei, age 29, takes a drag from nearly dead cigarette while wearing Keishin Ukai’s oversized T-shirt. Studies report that test subject, aforementioned Keishin Ukai, is greatly affected by the visual simulation provided by Itettsu Takeda.
Ukai fucking understands what Takeda was babbling about earlier. He watches Takeda’s chest rise as he inhales, watches the way his dainty mouth purses around the cigarette. Ukai feels the hairs on his arm prickle, feels arousal glaze over his stiff limbs. His grip tightens on Takeda’s jaw, pulling him closer, closer closer.
Takeda smiles around the smoke and exhales, mouth ringed in this perfect little “o”.
Ukai’s probably smoked hundreds, maybe thousands, of cigarettes in his 26 year long lifespan. But he isn’t sure if he’ll ever be able to taste them the same way again, because as the smoke spills into his mouth, it tastes like Takeda. It’s sweet around the edges, somehow, as if smoke could have edges. It feels smoother, less gritty. It makes Ukai’s head cloudy, makes his eyelids droop with growing need.
“It’s nice, isn’t it?” Takeda’s fully pressed flush up against his body, fingers scraping lazily along the concaves of Ukai’s chest.
“Yeah...real nice.” He tilts Takeda’s head up, meets up with melting honey eyes again, all surrounded by a ring of dark lashes. Their mouths have been too close but too far for too long now, and Ukai’s fed up. He closes that ugly distance between them, and Ukai can already tell the kisses will bruise today.
Takeda moans low in the back of his throat, satisfaction rippling through both their bodies. The cigarette falls forgotten on the floor, and Ukai expertly snuffs it out with the heel of his bare foot.
Tongues lick into each others mouths, tasting stale smoke and bitter dark roast. They don’t need to ask each other to know if they like the way it tastes.
Ukai breaks off first, tugging Takeda’s hair back to crane his neck. He bites down, tasting the smoke against Takeda’s pale skin. Bruises from the night before are already fading, light healing splotches fading lightly into the skin. Ukai sucks, hard. It’s prettier when they’re darker.
Takeda keens; he thinks they look prettier darker, too.
“Can I suck you off?” It’s so sudden it almost makes Ukai slip off the kitchen counter. He stumbles, throws his hand back to grip at the edge.”
“Fuck, don’t say shit like that so simply…” Ukai feels himself throb beneath his sweats. It’s not like Takeda’s hiding anything, grinding up against the top of his thigh.
“Can I or can’t I?” Ukai leans back and throws his hands in the air.
“Go to fucking town.” Takeda grins, and he’s already sinking down to his knees. Ukai leans back, lazy and dazed. The apartment is still hazy from smoke, and Ukai thinks it’s made its way into his head.
He watches as Takeda hooks a thumb in the waistband of his sweats, pulling them down to his knees.
“Do you not wear underwear at home?” Ukai looks down at him incredulously.
“Do you wear underwear at home?”
“...Yes?”
“Fucking weird.”
Takeda blinks a few times and draws his eyebrows together, but ultimately shakes his head. He licks the palm of his hand and drags it up the lengths of his fingers. Ukai groans in approval, threading fingers loosely through Takeda’s tousled hair.
“You look nice.” It’s redundant, since Takeda always looks nice. He hums in approval and wraps a hand around Ukai’s cock.
Ukai leans his head back as Takeda strokes him slowly, lazily. He feels relaxed, tension drained completely from his body. The only thing that could make this better is-
The cigarette pack sits a few inches away from his free hand. He could, but-
“Do it.”
Ukai snaps his head down, feels his dick twitch in Takeda’s hand.
“What?”
“Smoke while I blow you. That gives you some weird thrill, doesn’t it?”
Ukai wants to deny it, say no, that’s not what I was thinking about, what the fuck Takeda. But instead, his body gives him away, dick twitching, hardening up into Takeda’s grip.
“I- isn’t that-” Ukai can’t explain. His opposite hand is already inching towards the cigarettes and lighter.
“Degrading? Definitely.” Takeda’s drawing closer, lips close to kissing the tip of his fully-hard dick. Ukai shakes. “But you like that, don’t you?”
Ukai moans, tip pressing past Takeda’s plush, wet lips. His tongue dips into the slit, and Ukai’s gripping at the kitchen counter with white knuckles.
“No, that’s you, you’re the fucked up one here.” Takeda pulls off with a pop! and rolls his eyes.
“Just let your slut suck your dick while you have a smoke.” Ukai bangs a fist into the kitchen counter, head hanging down as Takeda sinks his mouth down further onto his cock.
He gives up. He claws for the cigarettes and the lighter, releasing Takeda’s head so he can light the fucking thing and put it in his mouth. He drags, long and shaky, blowing the smoke up into the ceiling. The moan that follows is uninhibited, and Ukai lets his eyes slip closed.
Takeda watches from below, whine caught in the back of his throat as he licks from the base of the shaft back to the head. He’s a terrible influence, what kind of high school teacher gets off on watching someone smoke? He’s supposed to encourage healthy life style habits and yet-
There’s a hand on the back of his head again, petting lazily at his hair.
“Enjoying yourself?” Ukai’s looking smug, cigarette caught between a crooked smile.
“As long as you are.” Takeda sinks down again, speeding up his pace, hollowing his cheeks. Ukai groans, head lolling back.
“Fuck yeah, I am. You’re doing so fucking good.” Ukai presses down a little, just enough to egg Takeda on. He knows Takeda likes to be handled, and that little bit of pressure gets him a moan right onto his dick.
“That’s it, you’re so good…” Ukai blows smoke into the air again, fogging up his already hazy vision. He feels like the air looks, clouded and unfocused, fucked out.
Takeda’s picking up pace, sucking getting harder, faster, deeper. Ukai doesn’t expect to last long, doesn’t need to it to last long, because Takeda’s a fucking treasure, anything is good, as long as it’s Takeda.
“Fuck, Ittetsu, I’m-” Takeda looks up at him, golden eyes blown near black. He pulls off and wraps a hand around his cock, thumb pressing hard into the head.
“Yeah, I know. Come on, Keishin-”
Ukai comes with a low, drawn out moan, this steady warm contentment spreading from the pit of his stomach over all of his bones, all his limbs. Cum splatters up over Takeda’s fist, squirting up to coat his nose and the lenses of his glasses. Ukai doesn’t even have the semblance to be embarrassed or apologetic, just looks down with an unfocused, bleary eyed grin. Takeda doesn’t seem to mind, returning the expression with an equally dazed smile.
Everything feels far away, everything except Takeda, right there in the middle of the cloud of smoke. Takeda stands up, tosses his cum-splattered glasses onto the kitchen counter and presses lazily into Ukai’s chest.
When they press their mouths together, they taste like smoke and bitter dark roast.