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The tiles are white marble, slick with new wax, but doesn’t smell like it. By the corner of the living room, there is a crack on one of them, the one near the blue ottoman. It’s an old wound, looks like a fallen hair strand, unnoticeable.
But Shinji notices.
Shinji is on the blue ottoman in the corner of the living room, tracing the crack with the tip of his shoe. In his periphery, he sees other people’s footwear. Oxfords and brogues and stilettos and pumps. If he doesn’t see them, he could hear them. Clack clack clacking around the floor, merging in with the ambience. Soft, social murmurs. Glasses clinking. It is a party after all. That’s why Shinji is on the blue ottoman in the corner of the living room, tracing a crack on the floor with the tip of his shoe.
His shoes are leather wingtips. “Gaudy,” his father had told him, but they were already halfway to the car and they couldn’t afford to be late. His father had abandoned him once they stepped out of the elevator, but Shinji had foreseen that, so he beelined right into the open bar. Now he’s drinking his third drink of the night. Pitiful. The anxiety in his stomach pools, sucking in all the alcohol like a toilet flush. Can’t even get drunk. He takes another swig, eyes still trained on the floor.
Then, white sneakers. Expensive sneakers, but still a far cry from everyone else. Practically spotless, newly bought. Shinji blinks. He looks up. A voice fills his ears before he can process what he’s seeing. It says, “Shinji-kun?” with a soft tenor. It drowns out the clacks and murmurs and clinks. It is the only sound in this party.
Shinji-kun… Shinji-kun... Hey… that’s him.
Shinji-kun blinks another time.
The man in front of him smiles. It reaches his eyes. His pupils are red. His sneaker’s casualness extends to the rest of him. A white v-neck shirt under a dark blue sports jacket. His hand is tucked inside his slacks pocket, the other holding a half drunk glass of aged scotch. Projected coolness. A knowing look.
Shinji reaches into the recesses of his mind, hands grasping at sand. He knows this man. Not personally, but he’s been told of him by his father. Something related to the business— acquisition, temptation, a deal— that’s why Shinji buried the information to be forgotten. Now, he’s digging it out, or at least trying to, but the sand has stood under the sun for so long that it’s too hot to touch. His palms are suddenly sweating. His face is turning red. The drinks are finally working.
The pause, realistically, lasts a few seconds. But it feels like lifetimes before Shinji finds his voice, meek and quiet, “Kaworu-kun?”
Kaworu laughs. “That’s right.” He takes one, long look over at Shinji. “Aren’t you supposed to be seducing me?”
Whatever emotion Shinji experienced drains out of him. For a moment, he forgot why he was here, at a dinner party with a family company so big their name is substituted for air. His father had a plan. For each member, a target shareholder. For Misato: the mother. For Rei: the father. For Asuka: the sister. For Shinji: the adopted son, protege of Seele, the next CEO. Now that man is standing in front of him, expecting his attention to be coveted.
Shinji scowls. “That’s presumptuous.”
Kaworu’s eyebrows climb just a millimeter, but Shinji notices. “Really? Seems like for every Seele shareholder, there’s a Nerv board member right at their heel. Like dogs.”
“You feel left out? Guess you’re just not as important as you think you are.” Shinji says. A burst of courage. He stands up from the blue ottoman and pushes back against a favorite son.
(Behind him, Kaworu stands still for a second, processes the hostility. His stare lingers as Shinji walks away. Heat builds up inside him, projected coolness seeping out. When he’s sure no one’s looking, he adjusts the waistband of his boxers.)
#
The bathroom floor is lined with fancy fur rugs. A scent of roasted chestnuts from burning candles. The walls are beige and well painted. Shinji is running out of things to describe to help himself ignore the panic lodged in his chest. His lungs expand and contract far too quick. His hand on his heart, the beat akin to birds chirping. He shuts his eyes. There is no sound other than his ragged breathing, no sight in his self inflicted darkness, skin barred from feeling, wrapped in an expensive suit and leather shoes. All he has is a hand gripping the cold bathtub.
He tries to ground himself again, knuckles turning white as he searches his mind. The party reminds him of its presence through muffled ambience through the door. Conversations he’s an outsider to. Deals he has no care in. He remembers a soft tenor and, after a few moments, his panic begins to subside. He remembers gray hair and red eyes. His heart doesn’t seem to calm down as expected, instead pumps the blood somewhere farther south. Shit. He’s already been in the bathroom long enough that people will wonder if he’s beating off. He entertains the thought for only a second, shaking it off. Full body shudder. What is wrong with him? He ponders this as he waits for all of himself to calm down.
He gets out of the bathroom. Suddenly, a shrill, “Stupid Shinji.”
Asuka glares at him from across the door, arms crossed, scowling. Her foot taps impatiently. A thought seems to come to her. Her eyes flick up and down at his form. Her scowl deepens. “You were jerking off in there, weren’t you?”
Shinji straightens. He can’t stop himself from heating up. All the more confirmation. He covers his face. He didn’t even do it! “Just go ahead!” He flails his arms to the direction of the bathroom.
“Fucking pervert,” Asuka mutters. The door slams shut before he could respond.
Now he’s alone in the hallway. A shaky exhale. Alone is good. Like a tunnel, there’s a glowing opening at the end of a long stretch. The catering bustles beside him, the bathroom is on the way to the kitchen. He tries to flatten himself against the wall, squeaking out, ‘I’m sorry’s when he’s in their path. He reaches the clearing, the hodgepodge crowd and stays at the distance. He’s a bird watcher, perched on the balcony with binoculars in hand, up with the avians. At least he wishes he was.
His eyes land back on blue hair. Rei cozies up next to a shareholder, some college buddy of the CEO. Next to her, Shinji’s father, smiling in a way he never did with Shinji. Shinji isn’t a bird watcher. He’s roadkill. A dead possum on the road, forced to stay down as the world zooms past him. His stomach opened, maggots eating up his insides. He stumbles his way back to the open bar, throws some tequila shots in, drown the parasites down. As the alcohol warms him up, he gains back his sliver of confidence and climbs up to the roof.
The cold air hits him immediately. Even with a tiny crack, he grits his teeth. He shuffles out and slams the door, expecting to be alone. He straightens as he finds Kaworu staring at him by the roof’s edge.
The city lights illuminate him in a soft glow. His lips are slightly parted, surprised, perhaps? His legs dangle by the edge. The wind blows through him gently. His hair sways like tree leaves by the beach. In his fingers, a burning cigarette. He takes a drag. When he blows it out, his eyes leave Shinji, looks back at the city. It's as if he breathed in Shinji’s lungs and gave him the dose of nicotine, with the way Shinji has to catch his breath as he steps closer.
“Um. Don’t jump.” Shinji says because he’s stupid.
Kaworu tilts his head to the side. He doesn’t return his gaze to him, but he’s listening. He hums. “Yeah,” he flicks ashes down the street. “Wouldn’t wanna steal your bit.”
Shinji swings his legs over the ledge and sits next to Kaworu. For what reason, he’s not sure himself. His head is buzzing and his cheeks are hot but he also feels completely sober.
“Do you smoke?” Kaworu’s still not looking at him. His breath is colored gray with his cigarette. Each word a fluff of clouds, integrating back into the sky. Intoxicating.
“No.”
“Shame.” Kaworu takes another drag, finally turns to Shinji, and blows the smoke right at his face.
Shinji doesn’t flinch. Instead, he breathes it in. Take it in stride. He’s dealt with worse. Slapped right across his cheeks. Spit right at his eyes. Kaworu can use Shinji’s tongue as an ashtray and Shinji wouldn’t complain… Jesus, is he hard? He can feel it, but he shouldn’t look. Doesn’t want to draw attention to it.
Kaworu’s gaze, quickly, very quickly, flicks between Shinji’s face to Shinji’s crotch then back at Shinji’s face again. Something in his expression shifts. His eyebrows climb up. Is he impressed? Disgusted? Shinji can’t tell, but he knows one thing that his look confirms—
He is definitely hard.
Kaworu chuckles. And chuckles. And it crescendos into harmonic laughter. Like the wind is being punched out of him. He’s practically choking. It’s humiliating. It’s beautiful. Shinji should really say something if he doesn’t want this to get out of hand.
“I’m not hard.” He says, as if he can will that fact to be false. He still hasn’t looked down. If he doesn’t look, it can’t be true.
“Mhm,” Kaworu says, a smirk infecting his voice. “Couldn’t be, considering… what was her name? Asuka? Told me you were jerking off in the bathroom.”
Shinji’s cheeks redden. “I was not!”
“Clearly.” And, in a rare gesture of kindness, chooses to ignore it. “So, why are you here? You gonna jump?”
“No.” A pause. “I was looking for you.” Shinji gulps. “I’m going to seduce you now.”
“Oh? And here I thought you had principles.”
“Not for the deal. I don’t care about the deal. I’m seducing you. Like actually.”
“Why?”
“Because I hate my dad.”
Kaworu’s loud laughter echoes once again in the rooftop. As much as Shinji finds him alluring, he also wants to punch his teeth in sometimes.
“You're funny.” He squashes the butt of his cigarette on the ground. “You're going to fuck me as a way to get back to your shitty father? That's certainly one way to offer a one night stand. I think people usually start with 'I saw you across the bar…’’
Shinji cringes at Kaworu’s crudeness. Not that he's wrong, but when you put it that way…
He scratches his head out of frustration. “No– listen, it's not like that. My father asked me to target you, and I don't want to give him what he wants.”
“Reclaiming agency?”
“Yeah…”
“So it is like that.”
A beat. “...it might be like that, yeah.”
A silence settles in, and Shinji starts to consider backtracking. Before he can say anything, Kaworu speaks up.
“I hate my old man too.” He stands up, wipes the dust off his pants and starts walking towards the exit.
“I'd love to come back empty handed to them with nothing in my possession but a good night to remember.” He shoots him a wink before turning back around.
Shinji gulps. If this goes haywire, he'll have no one to blame but himself.
And his dick, probably.
Shinji turns his attention back to the city, he takes in the view and exhales. He stands up and quickly runs after his partner.
#
Shinji follows Kaworu through the crowd of shareholders. The jewelry the guests wear appear as flashes of god and silver as Shinji quickly makes his way to the exit. Men in black tuxedos shoot him toothy smiles when they see him passing by; they recognize him. Shinji hurriedly bows to them and leaves before they strike up a conversation. Kaworu is also avoiding rubbing shoulders. He effortlessly shoots down anyone with simple Hi’s and a charming smile.
Shinji eventually meets his father’s gaze.
The latter is discussing with three other older men. Shinji assumes they're Seele executives, not that he’d know them by face. It’s the way his father looks that he knows, there are wrinkles that deepened, a frown deep in thought. Then— quick— a short glance towards Shinji’s direction. Sharp. All he needs is one look and he gets the scene: Shinji with Kaworu, being led out the party. His expression does not change. No smile or frown, just nothing. Shinji doesn’t know what he expected, but it was acknowledgement enough. It pushes his feet forward. He grabs his coat and shrugs it on. The hanger almost tips from the force. Kaworu’s looking at him as he does it, lips slightly parted, eyes running him up and down. Electric shock.
“Kaworu!” A voice drags both of them back to reality. A gravelly voice. Keel. “Where are you going?”
Kaworu doesn’t answer back. He pushes the door and leaves with Shinji at his heel.
#
They enter an unmarked, black SUV without any fanfare. It’s disturbingly quiet, Shinji’s ears almost ringing from the after effects of the party. The car propels forward after they settle in the back. Kaworu had knocked against the divider and murmured a name, probably a hotel. He doesn’t say anything after, doesn’t attempt to start another conversation. All he does is look out the tinted window, elbow on the pane, hand over his mouth. The sounds of traffic float into the car muffled. The world does not care for what what they’re about to do.
Still, Shinji checks his breath.
He hears a huff beside him. He looks over. Kaworu stays in the same position, but there’s a smirk hiding behind his hand. He saw it. An embarrassment washes over Shinji.
It’s not like he’s a virgin.
When he and Asuka were 14, they kissed. It was a small peck, nothing serious. A few years later, Shinji had dallied with other women. It had been easy, because they didn’t really want him. They wanted his dad. Wait— that sounds weird— They wanted the status, the money, the reputation. So they did all the work of seducing him. Shinji couldn’t satisfy them, in any aspects. Asuka wasn’t like that. They’ve known each other since when they were kids. She knows what he can’t give. Maybe that’s why when she put a hand in his pants, she started crying.
He didn’t even want to do it, just felt like he had too.
They didn’t try after that.
#
Shinji and Kaworu are in the elevator up the hotel now. Alone. The doors slide close. The ding isn’t done before Kaworu crowds him against a corner. Their noses almost touch. There’s hunger glinting behind those red eyes. Intense. It’s suddenly very hot. The doors open to another floor. Nobody comes in.
Shinji releases a shuddering breath.
Kaworu smiles. Tilts his head. “Doesn’t smell that bad, Shinji-kun.” He says, and kisses him to make a point.
Shinji melts. Every sense has been dulled to just this: Kaworu’s lips on his. The taste of it. Of tobacco and expensive wines. The feel of it. Soft and overwhelming.
He is pushed back farther on the wall. He is suddenly in the penthouse suite of their hotel. How did they get there so fast? He realizes he doesn’t care. Because here are Kaworu’s lips again, on his mouth, then his neck. Kaworu’s hands are in his hair. Kaworu’s legs are in between his legs. Kaworu is hard. Fucking tenting, pressed against Shinji’s crotch. This is all Shinji wants to think about for the rest of his life. Just Kaworu, Kaworu, Kaworu.
He should hate this. He tells himself he does. He does. He does. This is a rival, his replacement. This is his mirror, who’s better than him in every way. There’s heat pooling in his stomach. He shoves his tongue deeper into his mouth and moans.
Then— Kaworu pulls back.
Shinji whines, undignified and pathetic. He blinks against the haze of his lust to look at the room they’re in. Ceiling high windows overlooking Tokyo-3. Okay. Whatever. Can they go back to making out again?
Kaworu laughs. “God, Shinji-kun. So desperate.”
He had said the question out loud. His face reddens— Or it was already red. Who knows. He closes his eyes and rests his head on the wall.
Kaworu’s hands are still cupping his cheeks. His fingers trace the back of his ears to his jaw to his lips. Pulls it down to show his lower teeth (Shinji suppresses the urge to suck on his fingers). Then down to the chin and onto Adam's apple.
Electricity pulsates within Shinji. Chemical reaction. He suppresses another whine, tries to stop his hips from rutting. God, his pants feel tight.
Cruelly, Kaworu asks, “Do you want to fuck me, Shinji-kun?”
Shinji opens his eyes, like he was jolted awake. He says the word before he even thinks it. “Yes.” Then scowls. “Asshole.” Shinji wants to ruin him.
Kaworu smiles. He lets the sound have its moment, echoes it on the walls. Then, he guides Shinji further into the suit by pulling Shinji by his tie. “Go get ready in the bedroom.” He commands.
And, like a dog, Shinji follows.
#
It takes a while for him to find the bedroom. The suite is built like a maze, with trap doors to walk-in closets and balcony exits. He toes off his shoes when he realizes they’re still on, chucks it carelessly behind him. He loosens his tie. In their fervor, Kaworu had already pulled his dress shirt from its tuck. Shinji pops each button open and shimmies out of it.
The bedroom is grand. It has low, romantic lights and soft, white linens. Wooden floors. Candles. There’s a big window by the bedside, facing east for the sunrise. Right now, it shows the city. Shinji draws the curtains to give them some privacy.
He’s now fiddling with his belt. The buckle clinks. He pulls his pants off, drops it on the floor. Only then does he hear the sound of the shower in the adjacent bathroom.
“You’re taking a bath?” Shinji asks loudly, hoping his voice will penetrate the wall.
The bathroom door opens just a creak. Kaworu pops out, still fully clothed. “Yeah.”
“Now?”
Kaworu tilts his head. “Uh, yeah.” Then disappears behind the door.
A beat.
Kaworu pops out again. “Don’t touch yourself until I’m there.” The door closes. The lock clicks.
Shinji sits on the bed and doesn’t touch himself.
He knows, rationally, that he doesn’t have to follow anything. It’s not like Kaworu would know, and, even if he did, his pants aren’t exactly looser than Shinji’s. Kaworu wants this as much as he does.
But still, he doesn’t touch himself. He sits on the bed in his underwear in the quiet. A flaw in this plan is that the lack of attention is slowly making him soft. He considers palming himself. A little cheat, just through his briefs. He looks over at the bathroom door. Reconnaissance. He’s greeted by the sound of the shower. He wonders what Kaworu is doing there. He wonders if he’s thinking the same thing, if he’s got his hand in his dick right now, stroking himself because of impatience. Shinji imagines him moaning, or imagines what he thinks his moans sound like. Maybe quiet and sparse, to assert control. Or maybe uncharacteristically loud and needy, like the spoiled brat he is. What about his body…He imagines the water sliding off his lithe back, the steam making his skin moist. Hair wet and messy. Is he douching in there? Is he getting ready just for Shinji? He pictures Kaworu leaning against the tiled wall, arching his back so the water runs down his ass, then down his thighs. Shinji hopes he's already whispering his name.
The “getting soft” problem solved itself.
The shower head is turned off. A moment passes before the door is opened. Kaworu steps out in a black bathrobe without any fanfare. His chest is a little exposed; the pale complexion stands out against the dark fabric. His calves are toned. Shinji’s gaze falls to his feet. He curses. Even his feet look elegant, Shinji hates that he notices but he can't help drinking the sight of this man.
Kaworu gives Shinji a once over. His voice is amused when he says, “You did good.”
As if Shinji’s briefs weren’t tight enough. He tries to answer with a noncommittal hum, but it comes out a growl, animalistic. The words fight out his throat. “Are we gonna fuck now?”
“Lay down.”
Shinji does.
The mattress dips as Kaworu climbs onto it, then onto Shinji. He barely gives any warning before dropping his bare ass onto Shinji’s still clothed cock.
The weight and the heat and the friction. They shock his brain into a reset. The moan is squeezed out of him. His hips roll on automatic. Kaworu is so cruel for wearing a loose robe that strategically hides his naked body. He wants the touch. He wants the skin. He wants to see Kaworu’s entire body moving to the rhythm of his thrusts. The fabric of his underwear is suddenly too hot, too thick for what he wants, but Kaworu makes no move to help him take it off.
In fact, he takes Shinji’s fumbling hands away from it, pins his wrists above his head, and leans down to kiss him, hard. Shinji’s legs fold behind Kaworu’s waist. Stay here.
They separate. Another whine drawn out. Another pool of hot dread in his stomach. What is this fucker planning again? Kaworu leans over to the nightstand. In doing so, his ass moves just a tiny bit and Shinji wants to scream. Don’t make him beg! He bites his tongue to stop himself.
“Don’t move.” Kaworu says. Now holding a bottle of lube and a condom, he settles back on Shinji’s lap. The minuscule friction between Shinji’s briefs and Kaworu’s ass is fucking unbearable. He shifts a little, not following commands. All his body wants to do is move.
Kaworu tsks, faking disappointment. The good thing about being this close is getting attuned to another body, outside your own. Every tiny clench of a muscle, Shinji feels it. He feels how Kaworu leans into the touch, but doesn’t show it. What great command of his emotions. His composure is unbreakable.
Shinji wants to break it.
He thrusts his hips up. Kaworu falls forward, teeth clenched trying not to moan. He puts a hand on the bed to hold himself up. He’s not looking at Shinji, his hair covers his face, but his breath is slow, methodical. It’s almost like Shinji can hear his heartbeat from here. He does it again— he earns a shuddering breath— and again—a moan— and again— “Hah. F-fuck.”
They’re rolling with each other. Heat transfer, electric current. The weight of Kaworu on his dick feels heavenly. He can't wait to be inside. His has a hand on the small of Kaworu’s back. He sits up and kisses his neck. Oh He’s fucking winning this. He sucks a little bruise.
Kaworu jolts. He puts a hand on Shinji’s chest and pushes him back down, almost angry. Shinji bounces as he falls. His eyes are open. Kaworu looks straight at him. Then, as Shinji watches, he opens up the condom and puts it in his mouth.
Shinji is in trouble.
Kaworu doesn’t need words to threaten him. He traces his finger, featherlight, from Shinji’s chest to his v-line. He hooks it to Shinji’s briefs and—
Pauses. Mocking him. Almost asking, Oh, is this what you want?
Shinji won’t back down. He doesn’t nod, no matter how profusely he wants to.
Kaworu is unsatisfied by this response. He pulls off Shinji’s boxers and watches his dick spring free. Shinji might chew through his lip, he’s biting so hard.
Kaworu crawls down to Shinji’s legs, props himself down by the elbows. He looks at Shinji’s dick with a scientific curiosity. He tilts his head, gives Shinji one last look of warning, then puts the condom on Shinji’s weeping cock. Warmth overtakes his dick as he feels Kaworu’s mouth around it.
Fine! Fine! He wins! Shinji can’t contain the ecstasy he felt as Kaworu’s mouth slid all the way to the base. Fuck, Shinji didn't know how he could take it all in one go. He moans so loud he’s sure the ground floor could hear. He could come right then and there.
Miraculously, he doesn’t— but he’s really fucking close. It’s embarrassing. Breathless. Chest heaving. He puts an hand on Kaworu’s head and… pets him. Look, he’s overwhelmed right now. Not exactly in the right state of mind.
Kaworu releases his cock with a pop. Dribble strings out his lips down to his chin. Shinji caresses his cheek. He wipes it with his thumb. Kaworu sucks on his thumb in retaliation.
Shinji gasps, sharp, as he watches, feels it. Kaworu’s eyes, hooded with lust, sucking his thumb, then— lightning fast, he’s on him again. Kissing him. Feeling his mouth with his tongue. Then, his supple tongue is on Shinji’s nipple. Saliva dripping down on his skin almost artistically. The bastard. Playing him like a piano. It's pornographic. It’s every sensation multiplied by a thousand.
He's good. He's very good. It's like every part of Kaworu’s body was made to seduce. Everything he does, everything about him, strikes Shinji right to his core. He feels a fleeting sentiment of disappointment when he realizes he isn't Kaworu's first, and he certainly won't be his last. Kaworu isn't his…
All that is quickly forgotten because Shinji is letting loose, moans wracking his body. He feels it. God, he feels it. He tastes the salt of the skin, inhales the shuddered breaths. Hands roaming. Eyes closed. Pure sensation.
Kaworu sits up, leaving Shinji to, again with great anguish, whine for him to come back. Chases him without shame. Shinji realizes that Kaworu is now kneeling, towering over him. His ass is right at Shinji’s cock. Just mere inches away. Shinji’s dick twitches in excitement, almost feeling Kaworu’s phantom around it.
“Are you ready, Shinji-kun?” A whisper. A threat. An invitation.
Shinji can’t get the words out. He nods with great enthusiasm.
Kaworu lowers himself slowly, comfortably. Shinji lets himself groan, brain overloaded by pressure. Kaworu’s a bit more conservative with his noises still. A small grunt as he bottoms out. Did he sound like this in the shower?
Shinji hasn’t gotten him yet. It snaps something inside him, a light in this storm of ecstasy. He lets Kaworu set the pace, for now. Get to know how he likes it. Then plans to break him. He wants to make him feel how Kaworu makes him feel, to not let him forget him. Shinji didn't know he had it in him to be possessive like that
Kaworu laughs as he rides him, slow, methodical, as if dragging Shinji out into the fucking brink. He likes being in control, Shinji can tell. He’s probably never felt anything else in his life. Having choices made for him, something Shinji knows all too well.
There— an opening. Shinji strikes. He grabs Kaworu’s legs and pulls. They roll until he’s on top. The bed creaks. Kaworu’s looking at him, incredulous.
“What are you doing, Shinji-kun?” He says it with too much snark. Why is the dog misbehaving? He must think.
Shinji doesn’t answer. He pulls out from Kaworu for a moment, letting him feel empty and hollow. He watches as Kaworu’s eyes snap open in shock. Satisfaction fills his stomach. Then, snaps his hips forward, bottoms out in an instant.
It earns him what he wants— “H-Holy—ah!”
Breathless. Chest heaving. His moan is a sweet melody. Shinji bites his ear. Kisses him. He thrusts, slow at first, just like how Kaworu showed him, before amping up the speed. Almost erratic. Kaworu’s arms are around his neck. Shinji is blessed with the view of his body bobbing every time he slams his cock inside. He is scratching his back hard enough to leave marks the next morning. The stinging pain feels good. Shinji sucks a hickey onto Kaworu’s neck, high enough that it can’t be hidden by a collared shirt. It’s a game. Action, reaction. A bite, a whimper. Sweat. Huffs. Fluttering eyes.
Overwhelmed with hunger; Shinji wants to be crueler. He wraps his hand around the base of Kaworu’s cock. Kaworu’s eyes snap open, high alert. “Wait—“, he tries to say, before he cuts himself off with the loudest, dirtiest moan as Shinji starts to jerk him off. The kind that you wouldn't imagine the son of a millionaire make. Slow at first, but then Kaworu’s hips buck forward. Shinji bites his lip. So out of control. He pumps faster. God, fuck. He can’t help but grunt. Short breaths. He glances at Kaworu to check in. Kaworu looks so wrecked, face flushed and eyes half lidded. His hair doesn't have a defining shape anymore. Shinji wishes this sight was for him alone.
“S-Shinji-kun?” He sputters out. The struggle to stay coherent is evident, Shinji’s surprised he even managed to get a word out.
Shinji, however, knows that words will fail him. So all he replies with is a short, huffed, “Hm?”
“Shi-Shinji!” Kaworu shouts his name, begging for attention, as if he doesn’t have all of it already. Then— the kicker, “Please.”
They finish at the same time. They should’ve gotten a towel for Kaworu.
#
Shinji doesn't know what to expect when he wakes up in the morning. The sun, baring through the drawn curtains, shines on the empty spot next to him. Kaworu is no longer in bed. Is he disappointed? He can't tell, his mind is still too foggy. There's so much to process of what happened last night. Instead, he lets the afterglow settle into him. The bed is soft and wonderful. These damn fancy hotels. He gets up and opens the curtains, looking down at Tokyo-3. What a beautiful sight. The bustling streets add a chorus to his morning. This is the first time Shinji feels so…rejuvenated after sex. It usually feels good in the moment, but never after.
He brushes his teeth. Showers. Gets a robe and heads out to the dining room.
His father is at the table.
So is Kaworu, already all dressed up for the day.
Shinji stops his tracks. His breath hitches. He considers running away to hide but it's too late now; he has made his presence known.
There’s a silence that entails they stopped talking when they heard him coming. It’s in the unease in the air, the way dust seems to still.
Kaworu drinks his coffee. His sips are loud enough to fill the room. Shinji’s dad doesn’t look at him nor his son. His eyes are trained on the table, finger tapping on the wood.
He asks Kaworu, lowly, quiet seething, “Are you sure?”
Shinji’s heart speeds up. He knows that tone. Utter disappointment.
Kaworu just looks at Shinji, making him bask in this moment. He replies, “Yes, I’m sure. I don’t want to deal with your company anymore.”
Shinji could jump in joy.
He looks over to his dad, who's sitting in silence; contemplating his defeat. Despite the two usually going hand in hand, his father’s company has always been at odds with Seele’s. This was his dad’s chance to overtake the rival company and assert dominance in the market. However, he won't be getting that today.
A beat, before his father speaks again.
“Keel won't be happy with this.” He says to Kaworu. Ah. This is a familiar reproach.
A smirk appears on Kaworu’s lips.
“I know.”
His father mutters a low and sharp “very well” before getting up. With his coat draped over his arm, he gives Shinji and Kaworu one last look. Irritation appears on his features, an expression that would appear stoic to most, but not to Shinji. There is astonishment in his focused eyes, there is anger in his frown and there are untold insults behind his shut lips. It has finally dawned on him what Shinji did. He betrayed his father.
A few hours ago, this look on his father’s face would've sent him a state of doubt and fear, but today, he's feeling defiant.
He straightens his back, and simply shoots his father a smile.
He doesn't know what kind of expression he's conveying, he doesn't even know what he meant to convey either. He's content, that's all. Shinji hears Kaworu chuckling to his side, so he guesses he must look a bit cocky.
His father's eyebrows raise in surprise, and to Shinji’s confusion, his features soften. Shinji can't tell what goes on in his father’s mind, but he senses some kind of…tranquility coming from him. Maybe it is understanding, or maybe apathy. One thing is clear; today, his father realizes Shinji is no longer a mere pawn.
His father bows slightly and leaves. Shinji exhales.
He turns his attention back to Kaworu, who’s walking towards him.
“Not bad, Shinji Ikari.” Kaworu says, breezing past him without so much a shoulder touch. His cologne is strong. Floral. Very bold. Shinji gets lost in it for a moment as it trails behind Kaworu. He hears him place his cup down in the kitchen sink. Shinji doesn’t look back, but sees him in the corner of his eye.
“What is?” Shinji asks, his brain trying to catch up. “O-oh, the thing with my dad?”
He feels Kaworu’s hand on his head, combing through his hair. When did he get so close? Why didn’t Shinji hear his footsteps? Now he’s petting him, like a dog, and Shinji can’t help but lean into it.
“The sex was good.” Kaworu whispers by the shell of his ear. Fuck, he could moan. “Is that what you want to hear? That you were a good boy?”
Shinji flushes. It's too early for that; he already has a lot to process. He swats Kaworu’s hand away.
Well. He did want to hear he didn't do too bad.
Kaworu’s hand returns to his side, squeezes his ass, then disappears as Kaworu steps away. He looks almost sheepish when he enters Shinji’s field of vision again. He leans on the dinner table with his arms behind him. “I have a confession.”
Shinji narrows his eyes.
“I've been spying on you, Shinji Ikari. For a while now.”
Shinji raises a brow. “What are you…a stalker?” He tries to sound nonchalant.
Kaworu smirks at that response, but doesn't acknowledge it. “A year ago, when the idea of the deal was still being discussed between Nerv and Seele, my old man sent me on a mission. He wanted me to target you.” He busies himself with cleaning up the table. He wants to seem casual too.
“I spent my time gathering information about you. I couldn't find any social media accounts under your name so I've asked around.” Well that's not good. Shinji thinks, because nobody has anything nice to say about him. “Quite frankly, you just seemed like a lost spoiled boy who had everything handed to him on a platter, but didn’t know what to do with it.”
Shinji clenches his jaw. It's not like he wanted to be born into wealth! He'd be happy to lead a normal, commoner life, but unfortunately he has to be included in things he's not interested in or good at handling. Kaworu can't talk, he's as much of a nepo son as he is.
“And?...”
“And you are.” Shinji opens his mouth to retaliate but Kaworu quickly follows. “But, you were a lot more interesting than I thought you would be. You showed me a great time…” kaworu trails off. He hesitates before continuing. “I couldn't help but feel inspired.”
“Inspired?...Did you tell your dad about the deal?”
Kaworu shakes his head and an uncharacteristically vulnerability appears on his face; his brows furrow, his gaze is glued on the ground and his hands grip the counter tighter.
“I couldn't. I told your dad because I couldn't find the courage to tell my own first. I thought you wouldn't have the guts to do it so I rushed to call him. However, you surprised me again and ended up standing up to him.”
Kaworu’s eyes leave the floor and meet Shinji's.
“Thank you for not backing down.” He says with sincerity.
The sudden tone shift makes Shinji feel uncomfortable. He looks aways and scratches his neck.
“So, you'll tell your dad?”
“Your father will probably advise him quicker than I could.”
“...What does that mean for you?”
Kaworu turns his head towards the window, and sighs.
The adrenaline of yesterday night is gone, now they're facing the consequences of their action. It's like being splashed with cold water after a warm bath.
“My situation isn't quite like yours, Ikari. My old man and I barely share a fatherly bond, and it's not because of our lack of relation. Since there's seven Seele executives, Keel was the one to take on the “father” role so my existence could be explained better to the media.” He says with an air of nonchalance that can only be achieved through acceptance…or defeat. Shinji gulps, and Kaworu continues. “I'm just a means to an end. But despite knowing that, I was scared of losing the closest thing I have to a family.”
Shinji hates how much he sees himself in Kaworu. He hates how much he sees that neglected son in him that is only ever perceived as a tool…a son whose sole purpose is to be a convenience or an inconvenience. Kaworu probably never felt like his life had much meaning outside of the family business. Just how Shinji has felt ever since he was a child. The pity he feels for his now lover makes him feel uneasy. This is how people perceive him…they see a well born but unfortunate child. Still, Shinji can recognize that he had an opportunity Kaworu didn't have, and it's the love of a sweet mother. No matter how fleeting that comfort was, Shinji still remembers the warmth vividly. Has Kaworu ever felt that from someone? Is that something he gets for his multiple partners? Could…Shinji make him feel warm and safe?
They stand in silence for a few minutes to ponder. Shinji can't decide what to do, he's never comforted someone before. A hug is too sweet. Too unfamiliar. Offering sex on the other hand is too…out of pocket. He decides to just stay silent. His presence at least fills an emptiness, right?
After an excruciating pause (it felt that way for Shinji), Kaworu lifts his arm and taps his intelligent watch. Another sigh.
“Well, I might be potentially disowned but I still have my own business to take care of.” Just like that, Kaworu’s projected aloofness is back.
He picks up a black suitcase that was resting on the floor. “I have a meeting at 11:30 so I need to leave.” He makes his way to the door and Shinji is agape, he feels like he should say something.
“You can stay in the suite if you want. I have it booked until 12. It was nice meeting you Shinji Ikari.” Kaworu winks and spins towards the door to exit the suite.
“Wait–” Shinji shouts before thinking. He runs to the table to grab a pen and leaps towards Kaworu. He grabs the man’s forearm.
Kaworu doesn't stop him but he gaps in confusion as Shinji starts frantically writing his phone number on his skin. Dark blue numbers appear on pale white skin.
Shinji clumsily closes the pen with the lid. “This– uh. Well, I know you have a meeting but you can still roll your sleeves down.” A gulp. “It won't show.”
Kaworu observes Shinji’s not-so-handiwork with an unreadable expression.
And then, a smirk.
“You're such a pervert aren't you, Ikari?”
Shinji’s heart jumps. “Wha–?!”
Kaworu tugs at the collar of his turtleneck, revealing hickeys that peek through the layers of makeup applied. Oh, that…
“You have a fetish for marking my skin, or what?”
Warmth rapidly creeps in on Shinji’s cheeks. Kaworu has no right to accuse him of being perverted, especially not after yesterday.
“It's just my number! Besides you're…”
Kaworu raises his brow.
“You're such a coward for hiding them! I thought you were going to assume them.”
A flash of offense appears on Kaworu’s face, right before settling for his usual cunning cat-like expression.
“Oh? Is this what you mean? For everyone to know I was fucked by Gendo Ikari’s son, Nerv’s Shinji Ikari? You really are a pervert.”
Shinji doesn't have the energy to pretend that's not what he wants. He instead just stares at Kaworu with determination in his eyes, but he might just look like an angry puppy to the other man because a melodic laughter reaches his ears. Kaworu laughs, in a less seductive and controlled way. A tone one might call “endearing” but Shinji would rather die than admit that.
Well, he admits that he's relieved to see Kaworu less upset.
The laughter dies down. “Well then, see you next time.” He says in a calm tone. Kaworu blows him a kiss and Shinji winces. The door clicks as he closes it behind him. The apartment is silent.
Shinji feels as light as a feather.
#
At 10:00 AM, Shinji is still in the suite. He's got nowhere else to be after all.
At 10:30, he receives a notification. It's Kaworu sending him a text. Shinji’s heart jumps; he was starting to wonder if Kaworu had decided to not contact him.
It's a simple “Hello, this is Kaworu.” Shinji sends a thumbs up.
The digital clock on Shinji’s phone turns into 11:30 and he realizes Kaworu is probably at his meeting now. He didn't tell him what kind of meeting it is so Shinji is left guessing. Is it Kaworu leading the meeting, is he just listening, is he a shareholder for some business unrelated to Seele?
Five minutes later, “seen” appears underneath Shinji’s message. Ah, so he's still checking his phone huh.
And then, an idea hits him.
A mischievous grin stretches his lips as he tugs at his waistband. He turns on the flash, takes a picture and hits send.
“Seen” appears underneath his dick pic almost instantly. Kaworu’s “typing” bubble pops up and then disappears.
Half an hour later, Shinji receives a text.
A swear, an insult and then, an address.
Shinji giggles at the idea of writing “I'm coming.”
He eagerly exits the suite.