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When Munakata steals into Suoh’s room (in such a way that is professional and dignified and not at all creepy or suspicious), the first thing he notices is that the lazy lout is dead asleep. He takes a moment to assess the state of his opponent—slow breathing, the curve of his Adam’s apple, the shirt that has ridden up exposing the smooth plains of his stomach, the way his legs are splayed wide open...okay, yeah, no, he had sincerely tried convincing himself as he was brewing his tea this morning that his day could still be productive if he put forth his best effort but that was obviously a lie and so he is here instead. Considering his next move, he briefly entertains using a more violent way of waking Suoh up, but decides that that approach may hinder what he came for. What he came for...well...
He’s here because he’s sexually frustrated. There is no point in dressing it up. And he and Suoh seem to have a habit of encountering each other during such times, he’s noticed.
Okay, he admits, it maybe isn’t that coincidental. Not even a little bit. Whatever.
In the most dignified manner that could be allowed for the circumstances, he walks over to the bed and straddles Suoh, a droll smirk on his face as he places a hand over Suoh’s eyes. The Red King stirs slightly underneath him, registering his presence but not acknowledging it.
Mikoto, in fact, has no intention of giving Munakata what he wants in any direct fashion (mostly on principle), so when Munakata leans close to his ear and says, “Guess who?” in that facetious and overly self-aware tone, Mikoto replies in his most casual and unassuming voice, “Mmm, Izumo.”
It works.
Munakata immediately pulls away ready to make his exit in a storm of silence.
It’s not that they have a relationship. It’s just a series of (not really) coincidental flings. Neither desires fidelity, and Munakata does not really care what depravity Suoh sinks to when Munakata is off the clock. But his anticipation has just been thoroughly killed as though someone had upended a bucket of ice water on him, so if he absolutely had to pin the reason for it down, it’s probably the thought that Suoh is quite possibly fucking the entirety of HOMRA and he, the Blue King, is just a bit on the side. Now that is not Munakata Reishi’s style.
His feet don’t even touch the ground before the apparently quite alert Suoh Mikoto grabs him while he’s off-guard and pins him to the bed.
Mikoto smirks as he looks down at the annoyed expression on the man beneath him. “Hmph,” he mutters in a low, indolent voice, “and now you’re right where I want you.” He brings his mouth to Munakata’s ear and licks the shell of it before giving it a little bite. He gets compared to a lion often enough he no longer bothers explaining away the desire to nip at his prey every once in a while.
Or, you know, on a regular and frequent basis.
Munakata just turns his head to the side as though uninterested in the situation. Kusanagi Izumo was always an overly smooth bastard—although never to the same scale as the one on top of him now, he had to grant—and he isn’t quite prepared to conclude whether that was truly a game or not, so Munakata decides to draw it out a little further.
“I somehow wonder that it’s me you want,” he says as disaffectedly as possible. “Perhaps Sunday mornings are the reserve of one of your harem...?”
Mikoto takes the opportunity to attack that sharp and dignified jaw line with his teeth and tongue, pressing the rest of his body down harder against Munakata, giving him no reprieve.
“I doubt it,” Mikoto says. “They tend to like me. Izumo likes me. This,” he says, licking his lips as he turns Munakata’s head so he can meet his eyes, “is something you do with someone you...” He trails off, waiting for Munakata’s response.
“Hate,” Munakata supplies. Mikoto hums in response and leans down so that their lips are almost touching, if only he would close that distance.
So he lost that game, Munakata thinks. But there’s no point in getting hung up on it because Suoh’s actions have been doing a fair job of getting him worked up again and he definitely will be getting what he came for at this rate—count every little victory, then.
Munakata decides to take charge and leans up into the waiting kiss, probing first before sloppily pushing his tongue into Suoh’s mouth, relishing the warm and wet sensation of it.
Uninterested in a battle for dominance, Mikoto lets Munakata guide the kiss, his eyes wide open and enjoying the subtle expressions on Munakata’s face. When Mikoto sees Munakata with his usual formal expression, he tends to feel like punching him. When he sees an expression like this, however, the result is rather different.
He suspects the feeling is mutual. (It is.)
Instead of fighting for control of the kiss he focuses on other things, running his hands over the fabric of Munakata’s shirt, unclasping the buttons at the same time as he moves his hips in a loose rhythm against Munakata’s, the corner of his mouth curving up as he feels how hard his opponent has gotten.
It’s a shame Munakata never comes here in uniform, he thinks. He would enjoy seeing it in total disarray, the symbol of Scepter 4’s pure, orderly image marred by the kind of chaos HOMRA revels in.
Plus the man just cuts a fine figure in it. He can admit that.
That he’s become lost in his train of thought must have become obvious to Munakata because Munakata’s pulling back from the kiss with that displeased look on his face again. Mikoto can’t help but think this not-a-relationship would be so much easier if Munakata weren’t such an egoist.
“S’there a problem?” Mikoto asks.
“I should be asking you that,” Munakata responds, his low voice as cool as ice.
Mikoto hums and shakes his head. “So needy,” he says and bites down on the newly exposed flesh on Munakata’s chest.
Munakata can’t help but think this not-a-relationship would be so much easier if Suoh weren’t such a fucking asshole. It’s not something likely to change, however, so at present he opts to not respond and instead reaches for the hem of Suoh’s shirt. He has private doubts as to how often Suoh changes his clothes, or indeed, how often he washes at all, but he tries really, really hard not to think about them. Better to focus on getting off the hopefully-one-of-many-identical-white shirt(s) as soon as possible.
Suoh’s hair gets badly ruffled as Munakata tugs it off and he can’t help but laugh at the result. He feels vindicated for resenting the way Suoh has been styling his hair ever since graduation, because it just looks so stupid in moments like this. Not at all the cool, scruffy hooligan look he’s been going for since the start of his descent into delinquency.
Suoh stops for a second to blankly stare at his amused expression before reaching out a hand and thoroughly messing up Munakata’s hair. Munakata grits his teeth and reminds himself that it would be really unfortunate if he had to submit paperwork explaining why he summoned his Sword of Damocles with intent to maim a fellow king in said king’s territory and list his hair as the provocation. Instead he reaches for that contemptible bolo tie.
As always, Mikoto grabs hold of his hand and glares at him.
And as always, Munakata doesn’t let go and stares firmly until Suoh gives in and lets him remove it. He has no idea what the significance of the thing is or why there needs to be a standoff every time he tries to take it off, but he really doesn’t care because there is no way he’s going to have sex with Suoh with that ridiculous thing still on, and Suoh knows it.
Mikoto takes the liberty of tossing Munakata’s now wrinkled and dishevelled shirt on the floor halfway across the room. He doesn’t exactly understand why that’s such a bad thing but he likes the way Munakata’s eyes narrow when he does that. He moves back down and captures Munakata’s mouth in a messy kiss.
Munakata reaches a hand out to the zipper of Suoh’s jeans, guiding it open and moving his hand inside. He massages Suoh’s arousal through his underwear briefly, enjoying the way Suoh moans into his mouth, before removing the hand after only a few teasing moments. Suoh thrusts hard against his body in response, trying to find more of that friction. Munakata moves his hand to the hem of Suoh’s jeans, pushing down the remaining clothing all at once, exposing his firm ass and prominent erection. Suoh pulls back to help, worming his way fully out of the clothing until it too is in a heap on the floor.
In turn, Mikoto frees Munakata from the rest of the clothes that are getting in the way of his appreciation of Munakata’s naked body. It was hard to follow how someone you wanted to punch most of the time so could look so damn seductive and fuckable as soon as the clothes were off, but he isn’t a philosopher, so he doesn’t think too much on it.
Munakata thinks it’s unfortunate that he has never had a moment in which he didn’t at least fantasize about the possibility of decking Suoh in the face, sex included. He’s not sure why he’s made a habit of placing himself in situations like this.
Mikoto begins kissing his way down one of Munakata’s legs, massaging the other with his hand and making a point of neglecting Munakata’s erection. He likes to draw things out and make Munakata wait for it, partially because it clashes so much with Munakata’s more impatient impulses. He licks Munakata’s ankle, watching his reactions carefully as Munakata tries not to jerk away, sensitive to the touch. He smirks and works his way back up again, still avoiding touching his cock.
Suoh looks like he could take all the time in the world and that’s exactly what Munakata dislikes about his dealings with this man. His time is valuable and he doesn’t like to spend it waiting on an irresponsible layabout who just happened to win the sex appeal lottery. If it weren’t for the last part, Munakata wouldn’t even be here, surely. Surely.
Munakata finally just says outright, “Can you get on with it?”
Mikoto gives him an exasperated look before going back to examining the hickey he’s just left on Munakata’s thigh with satisfaction. Munakata’s about ready to rant about how he’s not paying enough attention to what he says or some other bull so Mikoto speaks up before he can get there. “You want me in you, right?” he says as bluntly as he can.
“I’m starting to question that,” Munakata replies, although he’s clearly putting on airs again. His next words rather prove it. “Where’s the lubricant?”
“Somewhere around here,” says Mikoto, reaching awkwardly over Munakata to the bedside table. He fumbles with the drawer in the middle, fishing around until he finds the lube and tossing it to Munakata. “Hey, there’s even a condom,” he says as he pulls the stray packet out.
“You were not thinking of—” Munakata begins in an indignant voice, at which point Mikoto just tunes him out and puts the condom on because if he has to listen to Munakata’s fussy rants for very much longer, he’s going back to sleep. And that would be a major buzz kill, because making a total mess of Munakata is probably going to be the highlight of his week.
Munakata’s pretty sure the highlight of his week is going to be the arrival of the 2000-piece jigsaw puzzle he ordered online and has been compulsively checking the tracking section of the shipping website for. A close second would be the planned Scepter 4 crackdown on the activities of the corrupt Jade Mile company, which his subordinates were able to link with individuals in the organ trade. The president of Jade Mile has rubbed Munakata the wrong way ever since he met him, and staring at his pathetic and hostile expression from behind the interrogation room mirror is going to be a particularly enjoyable experience.
His current encounter, in comparison, doesn’t even deserve a rank in the long term, but in the short-term, well, he’ll accept that it has a high priority in his weekly schedule for the next half hour. Highest priority, in fact, he admits as he rubs the lube over his fingers.
Suoh leans on his side, watching with increasing interest as Munakata prepares himself, working a first and then second finger in. Munakata is still deciding on how much of a show to give him when Suoh picks up the lube and starts slicking up his own fingers.
“Thought you might want some help,” Mikoto says huskily as he pushes a finger in next to Munakata’s.
“How thoughtful of you,” Munakata says, trying to swallow a gasp. It’s a little strange but there’s no question that it feels good. After barely enough time to adjust, Mikoto prompts him again.
“Another?” he asks, dragging his tongue along Munakata’s neck.
“Yes,” Munakata replies, anticipation in his voice. Their movements aren’t in really in sync but somehow that makes it even better as their fingers stroke inside of him. He loves the sensation of being filled like this, almost-but-not-quite more than he can handle.
Mikoto feels his own excitement mounting as he watches the way Munakata pants and reacts as he stretches him even further. This is exactly what he signed up for when this hot mess of a relationship first started happening between them.
“More?” Mikoto says with an edge to his voice as he looks into the depths of Munakata’s eyes.
“...yes,” Munakata says in a low tone and slowly removes his fingers along with Suoh. Sparing himself a potential argument, he takes off his glasses himself and carefully places them on the bedside table. No glasses is more or less the trade off for no tie, he’s figured. His vision is fuzzier but he can still see Suoh’s evident pleasure as he climbs on top of Munakata and positions himself at his entrance.
“Just get it over with,” says Munakata impatiently.
“I live to serve,” Mikoto says, mocking Munakata’s usual formality, as he pushes in, basking the feeling of being enmeshed in that warm, tight heat. He gives Munakata a moment to adjust before pulling back until he’s almost out and pushing in deep again, setting a slow, sliding rhythm between their bodies. He loves the sound that accompanies every thrust, lewd and messy in the way Munakata so hates.
“Faster,” Munakata orders, in a way that brooks no argument.
Mikoto is pretty sure Munakata is incapable of appreciating the benefits of slow, drawn-out sex and probably weighs the whole encounter out in terms of efficiency for time versus personal satisfaction when he comes over. That in no way stops Mikoto from trying to win him over to it, so he keeps his steady, easy pace and lays a series of sloppy kisses down the leg resting against his shoulder in lieu of a response.
“I sometimes have difficulty believing the degree to which your laziness extends,” Munakata says, trying to goad him.
Well then.
“You’re right,” Mikoto replies, and abruptly changes position, flipping them over so Munakata is now on top of him, his cock still deep inside Munakata’s ass.
“What are you doing?” Munakata exclaims as he watches Mikoto relinquish his hold on Munakata’s legs and instead move his hands behind his head.
“I said you’re right. I’m lazy,” Mikoto replies, clearly getting comfortable. “Happy?”
Munakata will not dignify that with an answer.
After a long moment of silence, Mikoto interrupts it with what he believes to be the obvious. “If you want it, you’re gonna have to do it yourself. Or else I’m just gonna go back to sleep.”
Like hell he is, Munakata seethes. He is not going to be ignored, and he is not going to be left hanging like this.
Fine, he thinks, if that’s how it is then he’ll accept the challenge. Munakata moves his hips up tentatively before dropping back down again, impaling himself on Suoh’s cock. He tries not to groan as he finds a newer, faster rhythm, taking Suoh in as much as possible before drawing away again, shivering at the sensation against his nerves. He is acutely aware that Suoh is watching him like this is a spectator sport and the thought rankles deeply, but the more he gets into it, the more he begins to let go, forgetting his reserve. He’s going to make Suoh need it too.
Mikoto grins like the cat that’s gotten its cream as he watches Munakata ride him with increasing abandon. It isn’t exactly perfect, but the chance to watch a debauched Munakata service himself on Mikoto’s cock makes up for it. Pretty good for a Sunday morning, really.
“How does it feel being this desperate for a good fuck?” Mikoto asks languidly, just to piss him off.
“‘Good’ is hardly the word I would select,” Munakata replies, trying to insult him with what are really too many words.
“Not posh enough? Hmm, extraordinary? spectacular?...breathtaking?” Mikoto says as he listens to Munakata slowly lose control over his voice.
Munakata says nothing, although he tries to quieten himself again, little good that it will do him. He wishes that the lethargic idiot underneath him would just react and do something because while it feels pretty good and he can do whatever he likes, he knows it could be even better. Instead Suoh’s laying there like he’s at the beach and the only reason Munakata knows he isn’t going to fall asleep is the reaction from the hard, throbbing cock that he’s impaling himself on.
“You could at least touch me,” Munakata says pointedly.
Mikoto looks at Munakata’s cock standing high at attention, needy and dripping.
“Nah,” he drawls, “Your problem.”
“I would like to inform you you are the lowest form of human being,” Munakata says as he moves one of his hands to his own erection, thrusting into his palm in time with the movement of his hips.
“How are you so goddamn formal while riding my dick when it’s not even...” Mikoto squints at the watch that is lying at the far end of the bedside table. “Fuck, Munakata, it’s seven-thirty. What are you doing here?”
“What you’re too lazy to,” Munakata replies as flippantly he can between the moans rising from the back of his throat. This kind of pleasure is too intoxicating to be any good for him, but he isn’t going to stop, wanting too strongly to hold onto the feeling of Suoh’s thick cock inside him. Suoh, for his part, is not doing a much better job containing his groans, despite his pretence at lazy disinterest. No, Munakata is damn sure he has his full and undivided attention right now.
He can almost sense Suoh’s arms twitch, wanting to reach out and take control. Usually Suoh can’t keep his hands to himself. Munakata just smirks and rubs his hand up and down his cock as he keeps the same rhythm with his hips. Jerking himself off isn’t so bad considering he knows exactly what he likes, something the jackass underneath him is never going to bother to figure out.
“This is gonna make for an awkward day in the bar,” Mikoto muses mostly to himself.
Munakata’s thrown by this, especially since it’s obvious Suoh’s thinking of his clansmen rather than the fact that Munakata is riding him hard, right here and now, thank you, which really should take precedence. In spite of his wish to drop all mood-killing thoughts of Suoh’s pitiful and unruly crew of hoodlums, he can’t help but ask.
“Why? I’ll have been here and gone before they know.”
“Hmph,” Mikoto says, “with the noise you’re making, Munakata, it’s pretty safe to say they know.”
Munakata doesn’t reply to that, but the colour on his face and the sudden obvious effort to stifle his voice are pretty telling.
“Just keep going,” Mikoto says, loving the way Munakata strains to keep himself contained. “There’s nothing so hot as you moaning like you’re in fucking heat or something.”
“I do not!” Munakata exclaims, caught somewhere between indignant, embarrassed and oh-god-that-feels-good because, okay, yeah, he can be a bit vocal at times but Suoh is just as loud as he is usually and...and...oh god, this feels so good and he needs it even faster and harder, which, conveniently, is completely within his power to achieve.
And Suoh is definitely responding equally to it, so there, he stands by his point.
“Fuck, yeah, this is gonna be awkward,” Mikoto groans as he watches Munakata bounce on his cock, taking him in again and again.
“Could you stop thinking about your pathetic clansmen for two seconds?” Munakata says, because really, that is not where Suoh’s attention should currently be.
“Really? I thought maybe we should invite them in since they’re only getting half the show,” Mikoto drawls. “Getting to see Munakata Reisi, king of all things proper, orderly and priggish, so needy for cock like this would be a real sight. Might make them think of you more receptively.”
“That’s a big word. Where did you hear it?” Munakata replies and moves to lean down close to Mikoto’s ear. “But, say, why not invite Kusanagi in? I think I hate him almost as much as I hate you,” he whispers.
Suoh scowls at that and Munakata smiles smugly as he moves himself back into a more upright position. He’s thankful he doesn’t need his glasses that badly because this would be no fun otherwise. He adds another point to his mental tally of wins and losses, glad that that, at least, seems to have gotten to him.
Mikoto, for his part, is pretty quickly distracted. Although he is sorely tempted to grab those thighs and give Munakata the kind of pounding he is begging for, watching the frantic stroking of Munakata’s hand and the wild jerking of his hips on display just for him is decidedly satisfying once in awhile. Besides, he’s already dug his heels in this time and is going to keep playing the lethargic layabout role until the finish.
He’s been watching Munakata since their school days, and the things that have always been most apparent to Mikoto about him are that Munakata is egocentric, obsessed with eliminating chaos and disorder in all aspects of life, and probably keeps some kind of point system for how often he gets in the last word. He’s also obviously lonely, secretly sentimental in ways that are so fucking oblique Mikoto has difficulty following them, and really, really good in bed. In the interests of continuing the exploration of those three things, particularly the last one, it would serve Mikoto well to keep his mouth shut. Munakata’s pushing him to the edge and in spite of Mikoto’s attempts to appear indifferent he really is losing it now. Still, there is something to be said for being so uptight that even during sex your posture is impeccable, and Mikoto can’t help but comment.
“Even when you’re riding my cock you still sit like a princess.” Yeah, probably not the wisest thing to say.
A nigh murderous look enters Munakata’s eyes this time. “If you utter that word ever again to me you may not have one any longer,” he threatens.
“Yes, your majesty,” Mikoto replies with his usual drawl. Still within the bounds of acceptable dickishness apparently. The sharpening glare in Munakata’s eyes is enough to make him feel the need to quickly clarify. “As in, King.”
He loves watching Munakata’s methodical, rule-bound nature slowly fly apart as he comes close to orgasm. Then again, playing with fire is kind of Mikoto’s thing.
“I hate you more than anyone I have ever met,” Munakata says, not slowing his pace down for a moment. When he’s this close to climax he’s not inclined to let the bullshit that Suoh spews get to him.
“Hmph,” Mikoto says, “I don’t hate you that much.” Now that really gets Munakata’s goat and next thing he knows Munakata is in his face and his hand’s around Mikoto’s throat.
“I do hate you quite a bit though,” he offers, trying to appease him, not sure whether to revel in or fear the appearance of the sleeping dragon he’s managed to provoke. This is the kind of total irrationality he desires to see, that only appears in these times, but he’s also very, very aware that it’s dangerous. That’s part of why he likes it.
Munakata’s hand still hovers against his bare neck when Mikoto reaches up and brushes it away. Grabbing hold of Munakata finally, he shifts their position again, sitting up so that his mouth is at Munakata’s collar and his arms wrap underneath Munakata’s thighs.
“Let me help,” he says, making a last-ditch attempt at a peace offering, and begins bucking up into him, soon matched by the movement of Munakata’s hips bearing down, thrusting as deep and as fast as possible. Mikoto bites at the place where Munakata’s neck and shoulder meet, surging with pleasure as he hears Munakata’s sharp cries. He can’t even bring himself to comment or think about the poor bastards in his gang who are overhearing them when they’re this close. He growls as their fucking becomes even more frenzied, ready to fall apart at the seams. Brief moments of time seem to stretch out forever as he is pushed over the edge, shuddering heavily and thrusting with abandon into the feverishly hot body of Munakata, who follow him seconds later, panting heavily as he flops his head against Mikoto’s neck, sated.
Sure, Mikoto has never heard his name on Munakata’s lips, but he doesn’t really have to.
Munakata shuts out the nagging voice in his head to the best of his abilities, trying to hold on to that haze of relaxed, satiated pleasure for as long as he can. Sex with Suoh is messy, weirdly competitive, and ill-advised in general, so he’s pretty sure the only reason he finds himself sneaking into this stupid bar again and again is because of the sheer magnitude of the mindless afterglow he gets from it. Yeah, he’s sticking with that.
His inner voice, of course, prevails in the end, and he pulls back from Suoh’s shoulder. He can feel his eye twitch as he looks at the sticky mess in his hands. Suoh just looks at him wickedly for a moment before bringing Munakata’s cum-covered hand to his mouth and licking it while staring intently at him.
Munakata jerks his hand back almost immediately.
“Why you persist in doing such things—” Munakata begins, only to be cut off as Suoh leans up and silences him with a kiss.
“Just wanted to show you how much I hate you,” Suoh says.
“Good.”