Work Text:
Yoshiki wakes to an electric pang of excitement in his chest, his eyes jolting open like a child on Christmas morning.
Today is the day.
He rolls out of bed and looks at his ‘headsplice’ poster on his wall above his desk with a poignant excitement.
His favorite band. And he gets to see them live. Tonight.
He reaches his hand out to touch the flimsy paper gently, caressing his fingers gingerly over the cold shallow wrinkles and divots. He got the poster the last time he saw them on tour, which was also the first time he ever heard of them. It was about a year ago at this point, when they happened to be opening for another one of his favorite bands, newshapes. It was love at first sight, and he hasn’t stopped listening to them since.
The obsession started out slowly, listening to them casually on his walks between classes at his university, trying to pick up on each and every lyric. He oftentimes had to look the lyrics up just to decipher some of the more gruff screaming verses, but each time he learned more about the meanings of the songs he felt himself being drawn in deeper and deeper. It wasn’t long before he started following the band’s socials, seeking out T-shirts from past tours on second-hand websites, and even collecting photo cards. The band isn’t particularly popular, so not many pieces of merchandise even exist, but he has made sure to keep tabs on each newly released piece.
The photo collection displayed proudly on his wall next to the large poster features each of the four talented members, though nothing could compare to the sheer volume of cards he has amassed of his favorite member, the lead singer and guitarist.
Hikaru.
The name resonates in Yoshiki’s mind like the toll of a bell.
Hikaru.
Each day Yoshiki is faced with an array of Hikaru’s likeness spread across his room, etching its way into his mind, memorializing himself behind his eyelids. He isn’t sure why he’s so captivated by Hikaru, but something about having his image permanently in his periphery he finds endlessly comforting.
His shining, crystal-white hair. His sparkling silver eyes. His smile that always seems to shine with both levity and devious intent. A kind heart that doesn’t seem to have a care in the world, while maintaining the talent that wholly captivated Yoshiki’s mind and soul at first exposure. And today he finally gets to see it again, for himself, in person, with his own eyes. He can appreciate him fully, not just a new talented face but one who has left a lasting impact on Yoshiki’s character.
Not just an image on a piece of photo paper.
Not just in concert, either.
Ever since hearing that headsplice was going on their very own headliner tour this year, Yoshiki has spent each and every weekend working at his college campus coffee shop to make some extra cash on top of his job at the library. The sole purpose of this was to buy as many tickets for the tour VIP meet-and-greet lottery as possible. He didn’t suspect that the lottery would be too popular, but he just wanted to make sure he gave himself the best possible chance to win. And win he did.
The signing is before the concert, so he knows he’ll need to get there early to get in line. He slept in, so it’s already almost noon. He figures he can find some lunch and stop at one of his favorite record stores to kill time before heading to the concert venue to queue up.
He briefly rummages through his dresser and finds a clean shirt, his favorite of his headsplice collection. He grabs a baseball hat and three of his favorite Hikaru photo cards to take with him for the signing and makes his way out the bedroom door. Before leaving, he runs to the bathroom to check himself in the mirror and ensure he looks ok.
With a nihilistic “tsk” towards the mirror at the fact that he will never truly feel confident in his appearance, he shakes his head and makes his way out the door. He’s single and going to the concert alone, who is he even trying to look good for in the first place?
———————————————————————
The afternoon passes slowly, Yoshiki’s anxious excitement not affording him time to be properly distracted by his usual city hijinks. He wanders around aimlessly until his phone alarm finally goes off to tell him to walk to the concert hall. It’s finally time.
He’s been to the venue many times; it’s a usual hotspot for up-and-coming underground grunge, screamo, indie, rock, and alternative bands to get to flaunt their stuff. It’s effectively a bar with a stage in the center and ample standing room, but it’s nice enough and easily gets the job done.
As Yoshiki finally approaches the venue, he feels a pulse of adrenaline make its way from his heart to his fingertips. He has never felt this anxious before a concert, not even the time he got to do the meet and greet for the members of newshapes last year. Something about getting to meet headsplice - getting to meet Hikaru - is gnawing at his guts like termites on wooden furniture. This isn’t like him; his swirling anxieties confront his usual collected demeanor in a full-frontal attack, and they seem to be quickly taking the lead.
He feels his hands trembling as he enters the concert hall, the bouncer snickering at him after having a difficult time scanning his VIP ticket code at the door from the jittery motion. He takes a few deep breaths to try to soothe himself and slow his heart rate, which only seems to work for a split second before he sees the line for the signing queue around the corner in the hallway. Something about seeing the concrete image of people lining up for the one thing he’s been dreaming of for months makes his antsy excitement spike a thousand fold.
He finds a spot to stand at the back of the short line. For 20 minutes or so, there is nothing to do but practice the script of what he wants to say to Hikaru in his mind. He keeps his eyes glued to the floor, practicing over and over, ensuring the least chance possible that he will trip over his words and make a fool of himself. It is a once in a lifetime opportunity, after all.
Yoshiki is snapped out of his repetitive thoughts by the sound of the crowd around him cheering. Dozens of heads block his view of the front of the line, but he can faintly make out a tuft of white hair making its way across the room. It’s finally time.
Each step forward makes the pounding in Yoshiki’s chest all the worse. As Yoshiki waits for his turn and approaches the front of the line, he purposefully avoids eye contact with Hikaru as to both not make his anxiety worse and not make Hikaru think that he’s staring, as much as he desperately wants to.
He wagers maybe just a peek won’t hurt. He is here to meet him after all. He’s going to need to look at him eventually.
Looking was a mistake.
Yoshiki nearly feels like he’s going to cry. Hikaru is even more beautiful than he ever could have imagined. He can’t believe someone can simultaneously be so talented and so handsome at the same time. Yoshiki is honored to even be in his presence.
Hikaru talks to each fan with such ease, making them feel comfortable and genuinely seen. Yoshiki can see his crooked extra tooth on the left side of his mouth with a new clarity at this distance, his only ‘imperfection’ in his otherwise flawless appearance. Yoshiki catches himself staring at it, lingering just a little too long, before he looks away.
He starts to be able to hear Hikaru’s voice over the dull roar of the crowd. It’s soft and kind and a little high-pitched, a stark contrast to his full-bodied singing voice. It’s like Yoshiki is seeing a more personal side of him that he’s never heard of before, and it captivates him, entrances him even more deeply into Hikaru’s character.
Before Yoshiki knows it, he’s at the front of the line. The venue worker checks his ticket and soon he is…
Oh god.
He’s face-to-face with Hikaru.
Even more than Hikaru’s ethereal beauty, the most prominent thing Yoshiki notices from this distance is his scent.
Hikaru is wearing a potent cologne, as most celebrities do. It’s rich and deep, the notes of sandalwood, anise, and bergamot melding together in perfect synergy. It smells manly, a little musky, and complements Hikaru’s warm and commanding presence immaculately.
Yoshiki catches himself staring again as he steps forward.
Closer.
Hikaru reaches out his hand.
“Hey! A new face, haven’t seen ya here before.”
Yoshiki stares at his own hand while he motions it towards Hikaru’s, not wanting to miss a moment but also perhaps too scared to look his idol directly in the eye.
His hand is rough, warm, and muscular. Well-trained from years of intensive instrumental practice. His nails are painted black, and he is wearing countless rings that probably cost as much as Yoshiki’s monthly rent. Yoshiki wants so desperately to linger over every shape of Hikaru’s hand, caress every fold in his palm like he’s analyzing an expensive piece of precious jewelry. He feels like he’s moving manually, trying not to let his autopilot take over.
How long are you even supposed to shake someone’s hand for anyways? Yoshiki can’t remember for the life of him.
Hikaru senses Yoshiki’s tenseness as he eventually sets his hand free.
“Not much of a talker, huh?” Hikaru jeers at the deer in headlights before him.
“S-sorry! I- I have some photo cards here, it would mean a lot if you could sign them… p-please,” Yoshiki forces out through the blankness of his mind, reaching into his wallet to pull them out.
“Of course! Oh these were some of my favorite to make, so much fun in the photo studio. What name is this autograph goin’ out to?”
“Um… uh… You can put it under… Y-Yoshiki,” Yoshiki trembles.
“Yoshiki, eh? You should come to our shows more often, Yoshiki.”
Hikaru begins signing the photo cards swiftly with a practiced precision.
Yoshiki blinks slowly. Is Hikaru flirting with him? He must’ve misheard him. He probably does this with everyone.
In the split second that his eyes are closed, however, Yoshiki suddenly feels something. Both hot and cold. Soft and hard. Metal rings and muscular, lean fingers. It’s pressing into the back of his neck and reaching around the side of it.
It’s Hikaru’s hand.
Hikaru leans into Yoshiki’s shoulder while he gently caresses Yoshiki’s jawline.
“Yer a cutie.”
The smell of Hikaru’s cologne nearly knocks Yoshiki out, even closer and more potent than before.
He’s touching him. Hikaru’s touching him.
Yoshiki swallows deeply to regain his bearings as he tries as hard as possible to prevent himself from shaking like a leaf. His fear of embarrassing himself now even stronger than his fear of meeting Hikaru in the first place.
“Th-thank you,” Yoshiki forces out. He can sense a deep red blush painting his face.
“Wanna take a selfie?” Hikaru offers, moving his hand so his arm is how fully wrapped around Yoshiki’s shoulder. The perfect position to take a selfie.
“Y-yes, please!” Yoshiki sounds stiff like he’s a middle schooler talking to his teacher. He looks down and pulls his phone out of his pocket, fumbling and nearly dropping it on the floor in the process.
He hands it to Hikaru who takes a few cute selfies of himself and Yoshiki, who can only hope to god that they look ok. Hopefully his blush isn’t too obvious.
“Thank’s fer comin’ to our show, Yoshiki! Yer support means the world!” Hikaru warmly exclaims in an attempt to usher him to leave so he can get to the next fan. Yoshiki decides now is the only opportunity he’ll have to say what he truly wants to say to him.
“Th-thank you! I-I saw ya last year here when ya were opening fer newshapes. I was blown away by the emotional development of yer music, and the way ya can so seamlessly shift between singing an’ screaming an’ back again. Yer truly a once in a generation talent, Hikaru. I can’t wait to see ya shinin’ on that stage in person again tonight. Thank ya fer always givin’ me somethin’ ta listen to, and someone ta look up to. I hope ya go real far someday, ya really deserve it,” Yoshiki finishes and sighs out of relief. He really hopes he didn’t sound as robotic as he thinks he did.
Hikaru looks dumbfounded at Yoshiki for a moment before his open, awestruck mouth forms into a warm smile once again.
“That’s real sweet, Yoshiki. That’s probably the nicest thing a fan has ever said ta me,” Hikaru blushes ever so slightly, his eyes creasing at the corners.
Yoshiki doesn’t miss a second of his reaction.
“Have a good time tonight, ok?” Hikaru pats Yoshiki on the back as he makes his way out of the meet-and-greet space.
“You too!”
Yoshiki cringes a bit as he realizes that what he said doesn’t really make sense, but he hopes Hikaru won’t notice.
———————————————————————
After the intensive focus of finally getting his scripted message to Hikaru out into the open wears off, Yoshiki finds himself unable to focus on anything but reliving the whole interaction.
Yoshiki thinks to reach into his pocket to pull out the photo cards and see what Hikaru wrote.
‘Hope to see ya again soon, Yoshiki!’ It reads. A crude doodle of Hikaru giving a thumbs up rests beneath his words.
Bringing the card up to his face also affords Yoshiki the fortunate, or perhaps unfortunate, realization that some of Hikaru’s cologne has left its mark on the paper.
He sniffs it deeply. The smell is intoxicating.
Yoshiki can’t stop thinking about what Hikaru said.
He wants to see him again. He wants to see him again, and he touched him.
Oh god. He touched him.
Yoshiki is playing with fire.
It doesn’t take long before he notices that he may have pushed his guilty fantasizing about the interaction a bit too far. He feels his pants straining his crotch a fair bit more than usual.
With every indulgent replay of the interaction in his head and every whiff of the lingering cologne on the paper, Yoshiki feels his desperation growing exponentially.
He knows he’s hard, but he can’t stop himself from ruminating ever further into the ecstasy, almost like he wants to see how far he can push himself thinking about Hikaru before he nearly jizzes in his pants. He’s in public, yet he can’t seem to control himself.
All Hikaru did was touch his neck and call him cute. Plus, Hikaru is a guy. Why is Yoshiki getting off to this? He wasn’t at all planning for this to be his reaction to meeting his idol. What kind of freak is he, anyways?
He disgusts and confuses himself, yet the pleasure between his legs grows ever more demanding until he can’t take it anymore.
He needs to jerk off, right now.
With his last remaining sanity, Yoshiki carries himself at a nearly jogging pace around the back hallways of the concert venue in desperate search for a restroom. He has no clue where he is, but down one particularly secluded hallway he finds one single stall restroom, calling to him like a beacon. It’s perfect.
He shoves himself inside without much thought and closes the door, making extra sure to double check that it’s locked before he gets down to business. He unzips his pants and sits down on the toilet, grabbing hold of his length like it’s his last lifeline.
He jerks himself fervently, trying to bring himself to his climax as quickly as possible. Images of Hikaru flash in his mind. His smile, his sharp eyes, his soft hair, his strong hands. What he wouldn’t give to feel those hands around his neck, those fingers caressing his sticky length, those boney, thick knuckles all the way up inside his-
A knock at the door.
Yoshiki freezes.
“O-occupied!” Yoshiki chokes out.
As soon as he hears footsteps begin to walk away, he promptly continues his work. He thinks to help himself by taking out his phone and opening the selfie Hikaru took of the two of them. The visual stimulation combined with his imaginative recollection of the sensation of Hikaru’s warm arm around the back of his neck and shoulder nearly drive him mad. Not to mention his smell.
Oh god, his smell.
Yoshiki rummages back into his pocket to take out the photo card that Hikaru blessed with his scent. He immediately brings it up to his nose, inhaling deeply and sharply. He feels the aphrodisiac charm making its way straight from his olfactory glands to the guilty pleasure growing in his core. It’s like Hikaru is all around him. He can’t stop himself from repeating his name aloud as he edges himself ever closer to release.
“Hikaru… Hikaru… Hikaru. Hikaru. Hikaru.”
Yoshiki tries his best to keep his voice down as to not alert anyone outside. He growls Hikaru’s name in a low hum, running his hands along his shaft as he fucks into them at a crazed pace. He bites his lip.
With one final recollection of the interaction and one final chant of his idol’s name, he finally manages to push himself over the edge.
Hikaru thinks he’s cute. He wonders if he’d still think he’s cute pleasuring himself to such an innocent interaction. He’s disgusting.
With the shameful realization, Yoshiki comes into his hands, trying his best to keep the mess to a minimum. With every inhale of the photo card he feels another hot spurt leaking from his tip like a Pavlovian response. He hopes the smell never fades. He wants to breathe it in forever.
———————————————————————
After finishing up with his last guest for the signing, Hikaru makes his way backstage to relieve himself before getting to work setting up for the show.
He knocks on the door to the single-stall bathroom meant for performers. From inside comes a voice he doesn’t recognize.
“O-occupied!”
Hikaru begins to walk away in search of another bathroom before one of the roadies calls out to him and approaches to ask a question about how he wants the amps set up on stage, and if he’d be willing to do a sound check in about 15 minutes. Hikaru chats with him for a few moments before the roady gets back to work, leaving Hikaru alone in the hallway. He figures he may as well wait for whoever is in the bathroom to be done.
He hears someone else call his name, so he turns around.
“Yeah?”
No one is there. He’s alone.
“Hikaru…. Hikaru… Hikaru. Hikaru. Hikaru.”
It’s coming from inside the bathroom. A man’s voice.
Hikaru presses his ear to the door to get a better listen. Alongside his name he hears some distinct slick sounds, accompanied by soft groans and grunts. The lewd sounds grow louder and louder until he hears the distinct evidence of whoever is inside reaching a climax, a cracked and broken quiet scream.
Hikaru feels like a pervert for listening for so long, but he easily loses control to the masochistic and somewhat egotistical part of himself that wants so desperately to know who it was chanting his name and pleasuring himself. Not that there is anyone in particular he’s hoping it is, of course. Of course.
Hikaru hears the sound of the sink running, signaling that whoever is inside is about to be outside. He panics and runs away as silently as possible, quickly approaching a sound tech he sees down the hall to strike up a fake conversation about anything.
As he talks to the sound tech, he can’t stop himself from turning his head slightly to continuously check if the sinful occupant of the restroom has exited. Eventually he spots him out of the corner of his eye.
Tall, long black hair, a baseball hat, a black bag over his shoulder.
Just the person he was expecting.
Hikaru smirks in self satisfaction.
———————————————————————
About an hour an a half later, it’s finally showtime.
Hikaru takes the stage with his commanding presence and starts off with a bang. His energy feels heightened tonight, like he’s fully in the zone, ready to perform his best. He isn’t quite sure why; perhaps because he now feels like he has someone to perform extra hard for after the fiasco in the bathroom, or perhaps because he wants to see just how much of a reaction he can get out of that someone in particular.
He feels himself passively scanning the audience as he performs. He tries not to let it distract him, tries not to get frustrated when he can’t seem to pick that someone out of the crowd. He is rather unassuming, after all. The lights are too blinding, leaving him little opportunity to even see the individuals before him in the pit.
He finishes his first song and pauses, greeting the audience and thanking them for coming. The audience cheers, clearly matching his energy and ready for the night of their lives. Hikaru cooks up a devious idea to ask for the house lights to be brought up so he can better see the audience. Between screaming voices and raised arms, Hikaru finally spots him.
Yoshiki is in the third or fourth row of people in the crowd. He has his hat off, his eyes locked on Hikaru in a trance. He’s barely moving or cheering, just standing there, awestruck.
Perfect. Just what he wanted.
Hikaru continues his show with a fiery passion. He feels his eyes returning back to Yoshiki like magnets, addicted to seeing his each and every reaction to Hikaru’s particularly impressive high notes, screaming, and guitar riffs. Hikaru feels his mind whirring, getting lost in the euphoria.
‘Look at me. Keep those eyes locked on me. Don’t look away for a second.’ Hikaru’s thoughts are racing.
Why he’s so focused on this one boy, he isn’t entirely sure. Trying to get someone’s attention isn’t exactly like Hikaru. Perhaps he likes imagining that he’s teasing him for what he did in private. Perhaps he wants to see how far he can make him fall. He doesn’t even know his own motivation at this point, only that he’s getting drunk on it.
———————————————————————
The show finishes without a hitch. Yoshiki felt his tears overflowing at multiple points during the performance. Hikaru doesn’t even seem real, an otherworldly ethereal being blessing his ears and eyes with his talent and beauty, a thousand times more perfect in person than in his headphones. The contrast of his chipper demeanor and the ease with which he screams with such gruff passion in his pained lyrics drives Yoshiki up a wall in the best way possible. Yoshiki doesn’t feel worthy.
Even still, Yoshiki can’t stop himself from ruminating on Hikaru’s message he left on the photo card.
“Hope to see ya again soon!”
How soon? How soon is too soon? Did he really even mean it?
If he waited out back of the concert hall with the flock of fanatics wanting to catch a final glimpse of Hikaru getting into his tour bus, would he mind? Would he even notice? Probably not, but would it be worth the chance?
Without thinking, Yoshiki feels his body magnetically drawn around the back alley. He should go home. It’s really late, almost midnight. His feet betray his thoughts as he approaches the back of the throng of fans crowding the rear exit. He pushes his way forward the best he can to get a better view until he reaches the front just in time for the exit door to open.
There he is.
The crowd cheers.
Yoshiki watches as Hikaru waves to his fans, crowding and hounding him like crazed shoppers on Black Friday. They scream his name, he winks to each and every one of them, grabbing their hands as he walks by, led by an intimidating body guard to his final destination. Yoshiki can’t help but feel a little jealous that he seems to treat every fan the same, but he quickly shakes the thought out of his head. Why would he be anyone special anyways?
As Yoshiki zones out, slightly dejected, he almost fails to properly focus on Hikaru as he approaches. It’s the smell of his cologne that snaps him out of it, suddenly much stronger than he was expecting, likely exponentiated by his increased body temperature after such an intense performance. Smelling it again after what he did in the bathroom makes his insides churn with a delectable guilt.
The smell gets stronger and stronger as he approaches until-
Hikaru stops walking. He makes direct eye contact with Yoshiki through the crowd, stopping right in front of him as he licks his lips and reaches out purposefully towards him. Yoshiki isn’t sure he’s seeing clearly.
Yoshiki, with his arm outstretched, is entranced once again feeling Hikaru’s warm and now sweat-drenched hand caress over his own as it did earlier, but this time it’s slightly different.
Hikaru lingers, leaving something small and hard in Yoshiki’s palm.
As Hikaru walks past, Yoshiki looks down at his hand.
Inside is a guitar pick with a small piece of paper, attached with a tiny strip of stage tape. Yoshiki carefully unfolds it, his heart pounding out of his chest.
“Meet me at O’Connor’s in an hour - Hikaru”
Yoshiki reads it three, four, five times to ensure his eyes aren’t deceiving him. It really says what he thinks it says.
Hikaru wants to get a drink. With him?
Yoshiki nearly passes out.
He grips the paper and the guitar pick to his heart as if it’s the most precious object he has ever been gifted.
He immediately runs away from the crowd, which now is beginning to disperse as Hikaru and the rest of the band are long gone in their tour bus.
Yoshiki whips out his phone. It’s nearly dead already from all the videos he took at the concert, but he manages to see that O’Connor’s is just 5 blocks away. He should be able to walk there in 10 minutes or so.
All of his limbs stiffen as he walks, his heart beating out of his chest. He has nowhere to go but the bar at this point in the evening, so he thinks to get there early and just wait - no matter how painstaking it is to watch the minutes tick by. He feels like he’s in a dream.
He arrives at the bar. It’s warm and crowded, the low lights offering a cozy atmosphere that pairs perfectly with the ambient live jazz performance.
Yoshiki wanders his way up to the bar and takes an empty stool. He orders himself a coke while he waits, thirsty from dancing and screaming along to the concert. His throat feels a little sore, he wonders how Hikaru can do show after show every night without losing his impeccable voice.
Yoshiki can do little except play on his almost-dead phone, anxiously bouncing his leg as he waits 20, 30, 45 minutes for Hikaru’s arrival. Soon the hour time point Hikaru promised comes to pass, yet still there is no sign of the white-haired boy. Yoshiki is on his second coke now, nervously checking the entrance every few seconds for his arrival.
Yoshiki does his best not to become downtrodden as the minutes tick by. Soon it approaches 90 minutes of waiting, and Yoshiki starts to think that the whole thing might’ve really just been a dream after all.
He decides he shouldn’t waste any more time, he does have classes tomorrow and he should really get some sleep. He calls over the bartender to close his embarrassing tab of two cokes when-
“Done already, Yoshiki?”
Yoshiki feels a warm hand on his right shoulder. The dull alcoholic smell of the bar is suddenly drowned out by an overwhelming sandalwood musk.
Yoshiki spins his head around quickly, nearly knocking it into Hikaru’s in the process.
“S-sorry! I wasn’t sure ya were… comin’….” Yoshiki starts before he feels his words getting lost in his head, now a jumbled mess of reverence as he gazes at Hikaru’s face, now mere inches away from his own. It looks even more perfect the closer he gets.
“Sorry fer makin’ ya wait, had ta get everythin’ set with the boys fer tomorrow. Tour life ain’t fer the faint of heart,” Hikaru snickers as he settles down on the stool next to Yoshiki.
“I-…I-“ Yoshiki stutters, unable to form a coherent thought. Hikaru is really here. And he’s alone with him. No one else.
“Whatcha wanna drink? S’on me since I invited ya out,” Hikaru warmly offers as he is already calling the bartender back over with a wave of the arm.
“I-I don’t really drink much, so I’m not sure…” Yoshiki awkwardly fumbles.
“I’ll get ya some of my favorites then. Two mojitos and two shots of tequila, please!” Hikaru confidently requests as the bartender nods and gets to work.
“Th-thank you,” Yoshiki blushes. Why is Hikaru, of all people, buying him drinks? What god blessed him to be able to experience this?
“I like yer accent by the way, kinda sounds like mine. Where ya from?” Hikaru inquires, his charismatic conversation skills on full display.
Before Yoshiki can answer, the bartender brings them their drinks, seemingly done in the blink of an eye. Hikaru grabs his shot glass and raises it, motioning to Yoshiki that he should do the same. Yoshiki apprehensively grabs his own and clinks it against Hikaru’s.
“Cheers!” Hikaru beams.
The two take their shots, Yoshiki doing his best to stomach the strong alcohol as it burns its way down his throat. His discomfort soon disseminates however as he feels its warmth emanating from his core, like a comforting hug.
“I’m… I’m from a tiny village just southeast of Kyoto called Kubitachi, I came to Tokyo fer college,” Yoshiki begins, the alcohol affording him a slight air of confidence to be able to answer Hikaru’s question without panicking.
He takes a sip of his mojito. It’s really tasty.
“Oh no way! Me too! I’m from Kubitachi!” Hikaru responds excitedly, pointing to his own chest with his index finger.
“What the hell? I thought ya were from Osaka?” Yoshiki questions in disbelief.
“Someone’s done their research! That’s what they had me say fer the press cuz I’m s’posedta be a cool city boy. But I was actually born in Kubitachi.”
“How the hell did I never hear ‘bout this? Ain’t no one live in Kubitachi, bein’ a rockstar would make ya the talk of the town. And how come I never heard of ya goin’ to Kibogayama high? We can’t be that far apart in age-“ Yoshiki rambles, feeling much looser and comfortable with the conversation.
“My parents homeschooled me… soon as I started showin’ promise in music in middle school they shipped me out ta boarding school in Osaka, so I never really got ta grow up in the boonies. But it’s still in my blood!” Hikaru chuckles, excited to have something in common to talk about with this stranger he has become so fascinated by.
“That’s crazy… what were the odds?” Yoshiki baffles.
“So, how did ya like the show tonight?” Hikaru changes the subject as easily as the wind.
“I- It was the best show I’ve ever been to,” Yoshiki starts.
The two sip their drinks and ramble on, the alcohol making its way into both of their systems with ease until their bodies and minds are thoroughly loosened. Hikaru orders them another round of shots and soon Yoshiki feels his grip on his collected facade beginning to fade. Hikaru doesn’t seem much better off, his face completely flushed and his words beginning to lose their cunning wit.
Without his filter of sobriety to stop him, Yoshiki can’t help but ask Hikaru the question that’s been burning in the back of his mind this entire time.
“Why… why did’ja invite ME out ta drinks? Of all people? Why me?” Yoshiki puzzles, his eyes locked downwards on Hikaru’s perfect hands in his lap.
Hikaru, also unfiltered, feels compelled to give Yoshiki the honest answer. He leans into Yoshiki’s ear, his breath tickling over his sensitive skin.
Yoshiki freezes. Hikaru’s so close.
Hikaru brings a hand to his mouth to shield the rest of the bar from the secret he’s about to relay to the unassuming boy before him. He delivers it in a low, humming whisper.
“I heard ya in the bathroom earlier.”
If Hikaru’s hot, alcohol-tainted breath in his ear wasn’t enough to send a chill through Yoshiki’s entire being, the content of his message surely pushes him over the edge. Yoshiki’s face flushes bright crimson.
“I-I’m- I’m so sorry I-“ Yoshiki flusters. He starts to breathe sharply like he’s running a marathon. He feels like he’s drowning. What does someone even say in this situation? This has turned from the most absurd to the most embarrassing moment of his entire life.
Before Yoshiki’s spiral of self deprecation has a chance to fully develop, however, he feels another puff of hot air.
“Wanna continue here?”
Hikaru sits back away from Yoshiki and leans onto the bar with one elbow, smiling all-too-knowingly. Yoshiki blinks in disbelief.
“Wh-what??”
“Hey! Can we close our tab?” Hikaru beckons to the bartender once again as he pays, Yoshiki staring at him, unsure if he just heard him properly.
“What did‘ja say?”
After placing his card back into his wallet, Hikaru stands up off his stool and grabs Yoshiki by the wrist, a clear message to follow closely behind. Yoshiki’s mind goes blank as he allows himself to be led, though to where he isn’t sure.
Hikaru walks the two of them to the bathrooms; two single-stall restrooms with handicap accessibility. Without missing a beat he opens the door to one and shoves Yoshiki inside, closing and locking the door behind them.
“H-Hikaru?? Are you-“
Yoshiki is cut off by Hikaru’s lips.
They’re cold, slightly damp with saliva and the remnants of the last drops of his ice-chilled drink.
Yoshiki’s eyes go wide in disbelief, staring like a petrified statue at the boy before him who has his eyes closed, lips parted and gnawing desperately at his own. Hikaru’s hot breath contrasts his cold lips, the ambrosia scent of the booze on both of their tongues quickly permeates the space between them.
Yoshiki gets lost in the feeling as he melts into it, a deep and sharp jolt of both pleasure and disbelief warms into his core, dropping down ever further with each passing second. With every caress of Hikaru’s demanding tongue against his own, Yoshiki feels the euphoria growing more and more overwhelming. He feels his arousal hardening fervently, faster than he can even fathom, as it begins to pulsate from the sheer outlandish nature of the moment. Hikaru brings a hand to the back of Yoshiki’s neck, pulling him into the kiss ever deeper, not allowing him a second to pull away - not that he wants to - as he laps over Yoshiki’s teeth and tongue like a hungry animal.
Broken moans escape Yoshiki’s lips before he can stop them, the aphrodisia between his legs causing them to tremble, barely able to stand. Just when he thinks he’s about to combust in his pants, Hikaru pulls away.
“Sorry, got a little carried away there. Ya ok?” Hikaru’s face is flushed red, his mouth covered in saliva, though who it belongs to is unclear.
“H-Hikaru-? Are ya…. Inta dudes?” Yoshiki asks a simple question, his vision swirling.
“Nah not really, I was jus’ lookin’ fer a way ta blow off some steam after the show. What about you, though, Mr. Wank-it-to-my-name-in-the-venue-bathroom?” Hikaru jests with a crude jerking gesture of his hands. His unwavering confidence drives Yoshiki crazy, but whether it’s in reverence or jealousy he isn’t sure.
“I… I dunno…” Yoshiki suddenly looks downtrodden. Is he just another one-night-stand to Hikaru? Should he even go through with this? It is a once in a lifetime opportunity, he might hate himself forever if he misses out on it. He’ll save his sexual identity crisis for later.
“Well, shall we find out together?” Hikaru prompts as he begins unzipping the front of his pants.
“Sorry, m’drunk so it may take a bit ta get me up,” Hikaru apologizes as he casually reaches between his legs to remove his full length from his boxers.
Yoshiki freezes as he catches a glimpse of Hikaru out of the corner of his eye. The rational part of his brain thinks to look away, yet the alcohol in his system keeps his eyes glued tightly to it.
It’s big. Maybe bigger than Yoshiki’s, though probably not as long.
Hikaru’s well-groomed bright white pubic hair perfectly frame the base of his impressive girth, which hangs limply between his fingers as he begins to work himself to half-mast.
Yoshiki kneels down before him, eyes still locked on the prize; the only thing he can think to do while his jellied legs recover from their reaction to Hikaru’s kiss. Yoshiki leans in ever closer until he is able to clearly smell Hikaru’s arousal through the thick wall of his cologne. His own sweaty, musky aroma from overworking his body during his performance earlier in the evening complements the refined nature of his cologne perfectly in a maelstrom of licentious bliss. Yoshiki inhales it deeply, feeling the same flooding sensation from his nostrils to his core as he did in the venue bathroom, but exponentiated by a million, like lightning bolts to his brain.
“M-May I?” Yoshiki offers as he looks up, still on his knees before Hikaru, pleading for permission to make a move of his own.
“I thought ya’d never ask,” Hikaru chides sarcastically with a sneering smile.
Yoshiki leans forward, bringing his parted lips to the side of Hikaru’s length and delivering a too-gentle kiss followed by a rub from his cheek. Yoshiki exhales, inhales, and exhales again, trying to ensure he’s still alive and breathing, before bringing his lips to Hikaru’s tip. Yoshiki takes the base of Hikaru’s shaft into his own hand as he does, stroking it gently as he laps over Hikaru’s slit with his tongue.
Yoshiki swallows before trying to relax his jaw and throat into the fullness, moving up and taking in Hikaru’s length ever so slightly. He can taste Hikaru on his tongue; a sensation that nearly brings Yoshiki to tears. As he slowly pushes himself down further and gives a few shallow pumps with his hand, he hears Hikaru make a low guttural groan above him that makes Yoshiki nearly see stars.
Yoshiki doesn’t have any clue what he’s doing. He’s never given anyone a blowjob before; he’s never even had sex for that matter. He does his best to work as slowly as possible, imagining what he would want for his first blow job and trying to emulate the sensation as best he can.
Yoshiki begins to move his lips further apart as Hikaru’s length twitches and hardens inside the plush warmth of his mouth, coming to life and bobbing up into the open air when Yoshiki pulls off briefly to catch his breath.
“Damn that was fast… I’ve never gotten head from a dude before. Yer pretty good at this, huh?” Hikaru praises, his breath hitching slightly, shocked at the speed at which he was able to harden after all he drank. He places a hand in Yoshiki’s hair as a sign of endearment.
Yoshiki nods apprehensively as he opens his mouth to take Hikaru’s length in for a second time. His saliva seeps down his chin as he sloppily works, still not fully in control of his body thanks to his clear inebriation. He keeps his eyes locked on Hikaru above him as he works, who keeps his eyes locked right back.
Yoshiki manages to pick up his pace gradually and sensually. He gags only slightly when Hikaru fully bottoms out. Yoshiki feels addicted to the sensation of Hikaru inside of him, filling him, overwhelming every one of his senses with his esteemed presence.
Hikaru is hard. Hikaru is getting off to this. Yoshiki is making him feel good.
Yoshiki’s thoughts cycle through the delicious realizations as he feels his own desperation begging for release in his pants. He doesn’t dare to stop his work on Hikaru, so he opts to simply rut his hips forward into Hikaru’s leg as his last hope at gaining some friction. Hikaru notices and obliges by shifting his leg forward slightly, allowing Yoshiki better access.
Hikaru grounds himself in Yoshiki’s hair, not pushing him down further but instead following Yoshiki’s lead as he bobs his head slowly, taking Hikaru in deeper and deeper with every thrust.
“That’s it… fuck… yer doin’ real good… yer really… looking up ta me now… hah… ya don’t gotta be gentle with me, I can take it,” Hikaru condescends as he urges Yoshiki to pick up the pace.
Yoshiki responds by grazing his teeth over the edges of Hikaru’s shaft as he clamps his mouth ever tighter, dragging his tongue and pressing it along Hikaru’s underside. Yoshiki can’t stop himself from bucking his hips forward harder and harder into Hikaru’s kneecap, driving himself crazy from the lack of proper contact.
“Oh fuck… just like that… Yoshiki… yer so good… I’m about ta… come,” Hikaru pants as he finds his high, Yoshiki not pulling back as he continues to milk Hikaru through his orgasm with his supple tongue. Yoshiki wants to taste every moment of it, feeling Hikaru’s length pulsating in his mouth as milky white spurts drip themselves down his throat, oozing out from Hikaru’s tip like hot honey.
The taste along with the delicious knowledge that he brought Hikaru, THE Hikaru, to orgasm with his own mouth, pushes Yoshiki over the edge too as he comes in his pants, entirely untouched. Yoshiki tries to scream, but instead finds himself only able to choke on Hikaru’s length, which is still filling his oral cavity. Yoshiki twitches as he latches onto Hikaru’s shirt above him for dear life with both his hands. He bucks his hips forward two, three, four times as he feels each sharp drag of friction draw another stream of hot release from his own tip, soaking into his underwear.
“What, ya jizz yer pants er somethin?” Hikaru mocks, watching Yoshiki scramble, clearly losing himself in the bliss of the moment below him. Yoshiki pulls his lips away with a purposeful teasing slowness, causing Hikaru’s hips to follow along like magnets for a split second, perhaps a little desperate for more.
“….Maybe,” Yoshiki feels himself starting to relax into Hikaru’s presence, able to even bring himself to make a joke. Hikaru did just come in his mouth after all, he doesn’t have much to hide anymore, and the alcohol is doing a lot of heavy lifting for his confidence.
“Yer honest, I like that,” Hikaru praises as he helps Yoshiki to his feet with one arm. Yoshiki is astounded by his strength, caught off-guard by the largeness of Hikaru’s toned hands on his bare skin once again.
“Whaddaya say we continue somewhere more private?” Hikaru offers, clearly still not satiated with their evening. Perhaps he has a bit more steam he needs to blow off.
“Somewhere… private?” Yoshiki panics.
Hikaru whips out his phone after zipping his pants back up, and taps away until he finds what he’s looking for.
“There, booked us a hotel. Come along… if ya wanna keep goin’, that is,” Hikaru beams with an all-too-knowing smile as he begins unlocking the bathroom door.
Yoshiki spirals. He’s really about to go somewhere. To have sex. With Hikaru. Right now. He’s going to lose his virginity tonight, and it’s going to be Hikaru who takes it from him. What the hell is happening? He feels like his head won’t stay on straight. His heart pounds like it’s ready to explode.
“Are ya… sure ya wanna do it with me?” Yoshiki asks before the other boy opens the door, still not confident he’s worthy to be in Hikaru’s presence. He’s pretty sure he’s overstayed his welcome already.
“Won’t know until we try, now can we?” Hikaru gleams, crooked canine on full display.
With one final tease, Hikaru leaves the bathroom to allow Yoshiki to get himself cleaned up from the uncomfortable mess in his pants.
———————————————————————
“Can I borrow yer hat?” Hikaru asks as they approach the hotel, pulling a pair of sunglasses out of his pants pocket. “Even though they don’t have a front desk at these kinds a’ places they still got security cameras… dun wanna risk someone recognizin’ me goin in with a dude, the media would eat that shit up.”
“Mm… mmhmm,” Yoshiki chuckles in his drunken stupor. He had asked Hikaru for one more drink before they left the bar, figuring he would be able to enjoy himself far more the further away he is from his anxious sobriety. He doesn’t want to risk ruining the moment by freaking out as soon as they get started.
Hikaru adorns the hat and glasses as the two enter, keeping his head down to avoid showing his face to any cameras that may be recording. Yoshiki, in stark contrast, looks around his surroundings in inebriated amazement. He’s never been to a sex hotel before, its dark and private ambiance a stark contrast from the highly public hotels he’s used to. It smells like smoke and perfume, yet has an air of refinement that he can’t quite put his finger on. It feels like he’s entering the back room of a forbidden night club, something he’s not supposed to see.
Hikaru finds their room number and unlocks it with the Bluetooth on his phone, easy as pie.
The two step inside, and Yoshiki is dumbfounded by the number of sexual toys and disposables that are on display on the nightstand. A vibrating butt plug, a cock ring, a magic wand, countless condoms, lube, and even a disposable maid costume. They really do think of everything. Yoshiki feels the excitement of the moment making its way to his core again, his ass twitching slightly in anticipation.
Yoshiki has explored internal stimulation before, but only in the safety of his own room, alone at night. He definitely isn’t prepped right now, however, as the course of his evening has gone a million miles off course from what he was expecting.
“Are ya ok bottoming?” Hikaru asks the question point-blank as if he was reading Yoshiki’s mind.
“Mmhmm… I was… hopin’ fer it, actually,” Yoshiki admits with a blush, ever so slightly brighter than his alcoholic flush.
“Glad we’re on the same page,” Hikaru beams as he begins grabbing at his pants to unzip them for the second time this evening.
He removes his pants and shirt, leaving him in nothing but his boxers and numerous pieces of jewelry. Yoshiki drools at the clear bulge in his underwear, flashbacks from just minutes before in the bar bathroom running rampant through his head.
Hikaru’s form is impeccable. He is even more muscular and toned than Yoshiki was expecting, but he figures it is a natural product of how physically intensive his job is. Yoshiki suddenly feels very self-conscious of his own lean body, yet the alcohol in his system affords him the fleeting confidence to begin undressing himself nonetheless. Yoshiki is soon stripped down to his underwear as well, standing and facing Hikaru and wondering what to do next.
“Want me ta prep ya er do ya wanna do it yerself?” Hikaru asks, with a shockingly genuine intonation.
Despite his cocky and sarcastic facade, Yoshiki can tell there’s an intrinsic soul to him that is truly kind. Yoshiki is nothing but a loathsome stranger who Hikaru could easily use for his own convenience, yet he is taking the time to ensure Yoshiki has a comfortable experience as well. Yoshiki feels his heart screaming and burning in his chest.
“I… I want ya ta do it…” Yoshiki feels lightheaded just hearing the words come out of his mouth.
“Take off yer boxers then,” Hikaru feels himself begin to drool ever so slightly as his eyes go hazy with greed.
Yoshiki obliges. Hikaru can quickly see Yoshiki’s already erect dick bob upward, free at last from its confines.
“Someone’s a grower, huh? Yer even bigger than me…” Hikaru licks his lips. “M’jealous. Yer tall though so it makes sense.”
Yoshiki apprehensively takes his rightful spot on the hotel bed, rolling onto his stomach to give Hikaru better access.
“Mind if I put on some music?” Hikaru queries before the two get any further into it. “I feel like it always helps set the mood.”
Yoshiki makes a faint sound of approval into his pillow.
Hikaru quickly queues up his favorite sex setlist on his phone, filled with Glass Animals and songs with similar smooth and slutty energy. It brings an atmosphere of intimacy and lust with it that capitulates Hikaru’s ravenous mood perfectly.
Hikaru grabs the lube off of the nightstand and lathers some onto his middle finger to start. Yoshiki wriggles slightly with anxious anticipation. While the alcohol is helping calm him down a bit as he had hoped, the sheer absurdity of the moment leaves his heart still racing and his breath heavy and deep.
“I’ve never fingered a dude before, so if it hurts dun blame me. Just let me know n’ I’ll stop,” Hikaru preemptively defends. A bright pink blush paints his face, a potentially telling sign that he might be just as nervous, despite his bravado.
Yoshiki nods, unable to think of any cohesive words to voice.
Hikaru begins poking his slicked finger into Yoshiki’s hole, slowly and purposefully. Yoshiki winces slightly, though it is all but expected; he knows the first insertion is always the most painful part. Yoshiki takes a few forced deep breaths as he works to relax his body as much as possible. He tries his best not to think about who it is behind him fingering him so tenderly, else he risk launching himself back into an anxious panic.
Soon Hikaru is able to reach his entire first finger inside up to his second knuckle. He gently strokes his digit around Yoshiki’s insides, carefully analyzing his every reaction and sound. He finds one particularly tender spot deep within that causes Yoshiki to flinch and moan reflexively.
“Ah, that feel good, Yoshiki?” Hikaru mockingly questions. He already knows the answer.
Hikaru pulls out his hand, having now found Yoshiki’s sweet spot, and lathers it with a second helping of lube. He then gets to work adding a second finger, slowly and tantalizingly entering Yoshiki once again until he is hovering just far enough away from the pleasure point to drive Yoshiki crazy. Yoshiki moves his hips up in response, his insides begging to be stimulated again, but Hikaru doesn’t give in, opting to tease him instead.
“Tell me how good my fingers make ya feel, Yoshiki,” Hikaru scoffs.
“Hikaru… yer… so deep… inside… Hikaru, oh god Hikaru… yer inside me… it doesn’t… feel real…” Yoshiki muses, rotating his hips to gain every angle of stimulation possible. Every time Hikaru’s name passes through his lips he feels his ass twitch ever so slightly. He’s obsessed.
“Fuck… yer so sexy… m’gettin’ hard just watchin’ ya losin’ yerself ta me,” Hikaru admits, his own erection coming to life and throbbing inside his boxers.
Hikaru tries to match the pace of his fingers with the rhythm of the music, imagining he’s already inside Yoshiki and feeling the tightness of his insides milk his shaft like there’s no tomorrow. The mental image is nearly enough to drive Hikaru over the edge.
“Say my name again,” Hikaru demands.
“Hikaru… oh god Hikaru ya feel so good… yer so deep… Hikaru…. Hikaru…” Yoshiki whimpers, his hips shaking and begging for more.
Hikaru pulls his fingers out, Yoshiki’s hips following closely behind in protest.
Hikaru finally can’t take it any longer as he removes his own underwear, rips open a condom, and sits on the bed next to Yoshiki, who blinks slowly to look up at the boy beside him, wondering what his next move will be.
“I wanna watch ya fuck yerself on me,” Hikaru states shamelessly, his eyes narrowed. He begins unfurling the condom onto his length, wincing at the cold contact on his hot arousal.
Yoshiki, high on his overwhelming and unsatisfied lust, is quick to accommodate. He sits up and climbs atop Hikaru’s length. This is it, the moment he’ll remember for a lifetime.
Yoshiki grabs Hikaru’s shaft to steady himself as he takes a deep breath and begins lowering his slick hole to take in Hikaru’s tip. It’s hard and wide and a bit painful, stretching him far more than Hikaru’s two fingers ever could. After fitting in the head, however, Yoshiki makes quick work of lowering himself down onto Hikaru’s thinner shaft, greedy and desperate to be filled up as deeply as possible. Hikaru’s head grazes over Yoshiki’s every pressure point as it rises, splitting Yoshiki open and building an overwhelming pleasure in his core until he bottoms out and-
Yoshiki comes immediately, hard and fast. He screams, the sensation of overwhelming lust and exhilarating euphoria suddenly exploding, completely unexpectedly. It’s the most powerful orgasm he’s ever had in his life, and he wasn’t even touching himself. He convulses, the feeling of Hikaru’s dick filling him only becoming more and more pleasurable with every squeeze of his muscles.
“Damn, already? Ya a virgin er somethin?” Hikaru mocks.
“Y-yeah…” Yoshiki nods, his mind returning to his current plane of existence.
“Oh…” Hikaru blushes as his eyes widen. He wasn’t expecting that. Something about taking someone’s first time brings him a certain degree of self-satisfaction, a sort of possessiveness. Though he supposes tonight is his first time with a man as well.
“It’s… ok… I’m pretty sure there’s no one else in the world I’d rather take my first time,” Yoshiki admits. “It’s like a dream come true.”
“Oh yeah? Do ya imagine a night like this while yer all alone touchin’ yerself?”
“I never did cuz… I never thought it would be possible.”
“What were ya gettin’ off to in the bathroom then, huh?” Hikaru punctuates his point by bucking his hips up into Yoshiki, causing him to gasp.
“It… it was… yer scent… yer cologne… the fact that ya touched me and called me cute… it drove me crazy,” Yoshiki continues as he starts finding a slow and sensual pace to fuck himself on Hikaru’s shaft. He loses control of his mind as he can’t stop himself from rambling on about his fantasies, even after properly answering Hikaru’s question.
“I want to remember the smell every day fer the rest of my life. I wanna remember tonight forever. I don’t just want ya to take my virginity, I want ya ta mark me and claim me as yer own. I want ya all to myself. I want ya to fuck me silly and get me pregnant… Hikaru… Hikaru… I’m obsessed with ya…” Yoshiki closes his eyes as he loses himself in the pleasure, fucking himself silly on Hikaru’s length.
“Damn… fer a virgin yer one freaky motherfucker… I like it,” Hikaru sneers, trying his best to let Yoshiki have his fun and not writhe his hips up into his heat. Hikaru loves to edge himself, and letting Yoshiki take the lead is the perfect opportunity to do so.
“Hikaru… Hikaru… put on yer music… please… I wanna hear your voice…” Yoshiki begs as he continues his greedy rhythm.
“My music doesn’t really have a sexy vibe to it but… whatever floats yer boat I guess,” Hikaru shrugs as he reaches for his phone and puts on a setlist of his own music.
“Ughhh… god… yer so talented… how do ya even do all that… how are ya even real… yer too perfect… what the hell,” Yoshiki laments as Hikaru’s singing voice comforts his ears like a hug from an old friend. He feels like he’s going even more insane.
Hikaru is fucking him. The man with the voice of an angel, whose endless talent and divine lyrics have comforted him through so many sleepless, anxious nights, is fucking him. Pleasuring him. Getting off to him. Feeling good because of him. Claiming him.
Yoshiki suddenly feels something warm dripping down his face towards his mouth, a little thicker than sweat. It tickles his lips as he motions his tongue to clean them off. It’s salty and a bit metallic.
“Oi, yer… nose is bleedin’… Ya ok?” Hikaru frets through Yoshiki’s onslaught of deep plunges onto his dick.
Yoshiki is unconcerned, his eyes rolled back as he fucks himself silly, already hard again and losing himself in the bliss of listening to Hikaru’s singing while riding him in tandem. This is truly the best moment of his entire life. He doesn’t want to miss a moment. His dick bounces tantalizingly in the open air, leaking gentle squirts of prerelease with each and every thrust.
“That good, huh?” Hikaru nonchalantly brags, clearly intoxicated from watching Yoshiki pleasuring himself so deeply. Yoshiki looks high, lost in the stimulation from all sides. Hikaru blesses his eyes, ears, nose, and deepest points all in perfect synergy, and Hikaru knows exactly what it’s doing to him. He looks fucked out of his mind. Hikaru loves it. He wants to get Yoshiki even higher on the feeling of him. A brief moment of possession crosses his mind once again.
‘I’ve got him. He’s mine.’
“Yoshiki… Yoshiki… Yoshiki…” Hikaru repeats, his breath hastening as he finally loses control of himself, chasing his high by bucking up into Yoshiki’s tightness.
Yoshiki releases a guttural moan as he writhes down into Hikaru’s thrusting. Hearing the voice he has come to love so much moaning his own name is like a glimpse into Nirvana. He’s convinced he could die in this moment and he’d go out happier than anyone else in the world. The memory of this night will be enough to keep him going for months, if not years.
“Shit… Yoshiki… I’m gonna… come…” Hikaru grunts.
“Hikaru…. Hikaru… come inside me… please…”
It only takes a few more seconds of unrelenting thrusts and grinds before Hikaru releases his load in Yoshiki’s core with a frustrated huff, the warm sensation of being claimed by Hikaru driving Yoshiki over the edge soon after. Yoshiki’s release drips pathetically out of his tip and onto Hikaru’s pelvis and stomach, spurting out in dull waves from his overstimulation.
Hikaru fucks himself through his release, driven mad by the way Yoshiki’s lewd insides grope and pull at him for more. It might be one of the best orgasms of his life, but he isn’t sure he’s ready to admit it.
Yoshiki feels his grip on his consciousness fading as he falls off of Hikaru onto his side, allowing his length to slip out in the process. He’s drunk, exhausted, and overstimulated. He isn’t sure how he’s stayed upright for this long. Yoshiki moans, though whether it is from exhaustion or pure unfiltered bliss he is unsure.
Yoshiki’s last memory of the evening is of Hikaru pulling a blanket overtop his bare body and shutting off the light. He feels a warm comfort nestle against his back as he allows himself to be lulled off to sleep by the smell of cigarette smoke.
———————————————————————
Yoshiki wakes with a pounding headache the next morning. He opens his eyes and sits up, briefly disoriented by his entirely unfamiliar surroundings. Memories and flashbacks from the evening prior swirl through his head like a maelstrom, and for a split second he isn’t entirely sure it wasn’t all just a dream.
If Hikaru really was there, he is gone now. Yoshiki is left alone in the hotel bed, still unclothed and in desperate need of a shower. He supposes a goodbye might have been too awkward; maybe Hikaru had somewhere to go early this morning, to catch his tour bus to his next show. Yoshiki feels his heart ache slightly, the fleeting nature of his evening now entirely apparently to him. It will now only exist in his memory, and he convinces himself that that’s enough. Asking for more would be selfish.
The pain in his head and his heart quickly become the least of his worries as he checks the time on his phone, which Hikaru had kindly plugged in for him when they got to the hotel. He realizes he is going to be late for his morning lecture if he doesn’t get home soon to change. He rushes to adorn his clothing and nearly runs out the door back to his apartment a few blocks away.
As Yoshiki approaches his home, he removes his black shoulder bag and unzips it to grab his keys. While rummaging in search of them, he finds not only his photo cards that Hikaru signed and the guitar pick with the handwritten note, but another neatly folded piece of notepad paper from the hotel that he doesn’t recognize.
His heart races. He unfolds it. Out falls a small, round piece of metal. One of Hikaru’s rings. A gift.
“Gimme a shout if ya’d like ta ‘see’ me again some time. Thanks fer a fun evening, Yoshiki-chan.
XXX-XXXX
Text me
-Hikaru”
~Fin~