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During the height of summer, Hiromi often regrets that his skating costume includes so much leather. Even after dark, even in the shadows of the trees up on Crazy Rock, the heat lingers, thick, cloying breaths of humid air blanketing the ground. Racing is the only relief, the wind kicked up by flying down the mountain feeling cool and refreshing on sweaty skin – for a few minutes, and then it’s back to mingling with a crowd of warm bodies.
Right now, as winter starts to take hold of Naha, Hiromi wishes that his skating costume involved sleeves, and also something that covered his stomach. He’s probably going to catch a cold.
Kojiro’s costume looks much more weather-appropriate. Probably a bit warm in the summer, but that’s why he wears the jacket shrugged down around his elbows, or skips it entirely.
From across the main area of S, Kojiro spots Hiromi, and pivots to cut a path through the assembled skaters, expertly dodging between them. He skids to a stop at Hiromi’s side, flashing him a wide, bright grin and flinging an arm around his shoulders.
“Any plans for tonight?”
Hiromi shrugs, jostling the warm weight of Kojiro’s arm. Kojiro isn’t shaken free. It was a surprise to them both when they realized that they attend the same underground skateboarding meetup. For the first several months of getting to know each other from going to the same gym, they were both working around competing commitments, and their attendance at S didn’t overlap. Once they were finally there on the same night, Kojiro didn’t recognize Hiromi in his makeup, and Hiromi figured they weren’t close enough friends to say hi outside of the gym. He’d asked Kojiro about skating the next time they saw each other, and now they’ve sorted everything out, but it was a strange chapter of their friendship to broach.
“Nah, not really. I might mess around on the ramps just to keep warm,” Hiromi replies.
Right now, the ramps are largely occupied by a collection of high school kids, who are taking turns impressing each other with tricks. One kid kicks up a head of speed, crouches as they approach the ramp, and then jumps –
Their board goes out from under their feet, and they land with a few staggering steps while their friends good-naturedly jeer.
Kojiro laughs, ribcage swelling where he’s pressed against Hiromi’s side.
“My best friend and I were just like that, at that age,” Kojiro explains, when Hiromi turns his head to look at him.
Hiromi isn’t in touch with anyone from high school, other than his old neighbour, Dai-chan. They went to the same school from grade school onwards, and their moms probably still gossip over the fence. In middle school, Hiromi made a valiant effort to switch them over to surnames, instead of little-kid nicknames. But when they both reached 170cm before they got to high school, Dai thought it was funny to go back to calling him Hiro-chan.
“I was kind of a loner in high school,” admits Hiromi. Dai joined the soccer team, and Hiromi was too shy, angry, and awkward to make new friends.
“Really? I thought you were really approachable, the first time we met.”
Hiromi looks suspiciously over at Kojiro, trying to spot any sarcasm in his expression. Kojiro just looks back at him from much too close, his arm warm and strong around Hiromi’s shoulders and his dark eyes focused entirely on Hiromi. Hiromi remembers being curt towards the other man, trying to get Kojiro to lose interest in following him around the gym and striking up conversation, but Kojiro had seemed amused by his brief replies.
It didn’t take long for Hiromi to become comfortable with Kojiro, and now he doesn’t hesitate to call them friends. But it wasn’t immediate.
“You’re just persistent,” says Hiromi.
Kojiro laughs, full-throated and amused. “You’re not the first person I’ve met who’s slow to warm up,” he says teasingly.
That’s a fair assessment. “Yeah. It’s weird to be seeing someone where we, y’know, clicked right away,” remarks Hiromi, and then immediately wishes he hadn’t said anything when he remembers that Kojiro is the one who introduced him to Kaoru.
“Oh.” Kojiro blinks, expression gone fletly surprised, but before he can say anything else there’s a chorus of cheers from the gates and Kojiro’s attention is snagged. “You’ll have to tell me all about it sometime,” says Kojiro brightly, slapping Hiromi on the shoulder and then kicking off in the direction of the entrance. A call of “Hey, Cherry!” drifts behind him on the cold breeze.
Hiromi watches the very person he’s seeing come gliding through the crowd, trading barbs with Kojiro – or Joe, here – as he keeps pace with her. They have a well-known, long-running feud at S, and play it up when they’re both here at the same time.
It’s the first time that Hiromi has been here while Kaoru is, since they started seeing each other. Meeting for sex. Whatever this is. He’d mentioned that he attends regularly, and Kaoru had confirmed that she does, too, but neither of them had broached whether they wanted to be seen together as Shadow and Cherry Blossom. She and Kojiro seem to be having plenty of fun performatively taunting each other, and Hiromi doesn’t want to get himself into the middle of that.
The nice thing is that the pair of them always draw attention from the crowd, and the group of kids on the ramp dwindles, either for the spectacle of verbal sparring or just to stare at Kaoru’s impressive costume, her sleek black outfit decorated with pink lighting to match her electronically enhanced board. She wears a mask over her nose and the lower half of her face, but her long pink ponytail is unmistakable – to Hiromi, at least. Presumably very few of the people here have run their fingers through her hair, or held onto it while getting a blowjob.
Hiromi sternly turns his attention to the ramps, and away from the throb of heat in his dick. With few people remaining, there’s plenty of space for Hiromi to claim an empty spot. In theory, he could mess around on ramps at any skatepark, at any time of day. Even when he’s not racing, S feels like a special place, to be more uniquely himself and be around other people doing the same. Drawing a small crowd of admirers who cheer for him when he lands a frontside 540 is something that doesn’t happen at a regular skatepark during daylight hours, either.
The main drawback of going to S is that it means staying up quite late when he has work in the morning, but Tulip is quiet for the first part of the day. Hiromi has time to snip off wilting leaves, de-thorn some roses, and test all the pens they keep by the phone, with only a handful of customers wandering in.
The memory of Kaoru’s hair whipping behind her in the wind means that he spends the whole morning thinking about her, and a little before lunchtime he messages her. Just a saying-hello comment on it being a quiet morning at work, with a picture of one of the potted ferns in a sunbeam.
He’s not expecting a rapid reply, but his phone pings almost as soon as he puts it back in his pocket. Hiromi pulls it out again.
That sounds nice, Kaoru has texted back. I’m meeting calligraphy clients this morning. She sends him a picture of herself, primly composed in a dark blue kimono with her hair smoothed back and most of her piercings taken out. With such different jobs, Kaoru’s schedule is wildly unpredictable, so Hiromi never makes assumptions about where or when she’s working.
It’s a marked contrast to when Hiromi saw her at S, a few hours ago. To be fair, he doesn’t look like Shadow right now either, since he’s fully clothed and not wearing facepaint.
While he’s debating how to reply, he gets a message from Dai, who’s gotten scheduled to work a shift during an upcoming concert that he and Hiromi had bought tickets to. Hiromi quickly taps out a message of commiseration about Dai’s asshole boss.
thnx gotta find someone to take my ticket
Hiromi pauses, staring at the message for a moment as his brain makes connections. He and Kaoru don’t have any plans to meet at the moment, and Hiromi was hoping to find an opportunity to ask her on a date. He thinks that their taste in music overlaps, based on the playlist she’d put on the first time they met. It’s worth a try.
He swaps back over to his message history with Kaoru, and asks Want an excuse to wear leather on Thursday night?
You’d like that, wouldn’t you ;), Kaoru fires back, and then follows up asking what the occasion is.
By the time Hiromi’s lunch break rolls around, he’s bought Dai’s ticket off him and Kaoru has said she’ll meet him at the train station on Thursday so they can walk over to the concert together.
One of the things Hiromi likes about metal concerts is that he doesn’t have to worry about what to wear, not the way he does about going out to dinner at a nice place. Leather makes up a small fraction of his wardrobe, compared to his everyday clothing, but he’s got plenty of pieces to choose from. Even with the weather getting colder, the concert venue is going to be packed and sweaty, so Hiromi chooses a dark tank top and a sleeveless motorcycle vest to go with his ordinary jeans and boots.
Hiromi leaves early, letting eagerness to see Kaoru carry him out the door sooner than he needs to, and finds a nice visible spot to wait for her near the train station entrance. The sun had set a little while ago, the sky starting to fade dark behind the buildings above. Hiromi doesn’t even have time to feel cold before Kaoru comes up the station steps, spots him, and smiles as she comes over to meet him.
“How was work?” asks Hiromi as they fall into step, heading towards the concert venue. Kaoru had been busy into the evening, or Hiromi would have suggested that they have dinner beforehand.
“A pain in the ass, but now it’s the client’s problem, and I don’t have to think about that project for a couple of weeks while they discuss it.” Kaoru slants a glance up at him through mascara-dark eyelashes. “How about you?”
“A little busier than usual. Everyone wants a houseplant, now that it’s getting colder.” Hiromi gestures vaguely at their surroundings, trying to communicate ‘oncoming winter,’ but Kaoru’s gaze follows his bare arms.
“You’re not really dressed for the weather,” she remarks. Not that she’s bundled up against the elements, either – she looks the part of a metal fan, with bold makeup and an outfit entirely in black, shiny steel studs and chains decorating every accessory. Her tight leather skirt doesn’t quite reach mid-thigh, although her boots come up almost to her knees.
“It’ll be really warm inside.” They cross a side street, and right up ahead is the venue, a queue of metalheads already waiting.
“Oh?”
“Yeah, of course. When’s the last time you went to a concert?” Hiromi glances over at Kaoru, puzzled by the question.
Kaoru shrugs. “I haven’t, really. Other than high school band performances.” She’s wearing a reserved expression as she leans to the side and curiously scans the other people in line.
“Never?” Hiromi tries not to let too much incredulity creep into his voice. For how readily Kaoru agreed to come, he’d assumed that she knew what she was getting into.
Kaoru shakes her head, earrings swinging with the motion and sparkling in the light. “None of my friends were particularly musical, so we did other things. Skating, primarily.”
“Huh.” Hiromi faces forward again. The doors have just been opened, and the queue is slowly shuffling forward. “None of us were really musical, either. We just liked going somewhere really loud and jumping around a lot. It’s, uh, kind of relaxing? When you’re a stupid, angry kid,” Hiromi finds himself blurting out. His gaze stays fixed on the shaved back of some guy’s head as the line moves forwards another couple of steps. “But I ended up liking the music. I listen to a lot of different stuff these days, but I still like shows like this.” Hiromi gestures at the dingy building they’re standing in front of. Up ahead, the propped-open door spills orange-tinted light, cacophonous noise pouring out in a steady clatter.
“Mm. I’m certainly less angry than I was as a teenager,” Kaoru remarks. “I would like to believe I’m also less stupid, though I seem to occasionally suffer a severe lapse in judgement around you,” she adds, catching his eye.
Hiromi hides his smile by looking down at his phone as they approach the front of the line, pulling up the tickets from his email.
“Yeah? Are you wearing anything tonight that I can’t see?” He’s thinking of the time that Kaoru wore an anal plug to dinner, but an instant after the words leave his mouth he realizes that she must be wearing underwear under her sleek leather skirt.
She must be. Right?
The corner of Kaoru’s mouth curls up.
“Perhaps you’ll be able to find out before the last band takes the stage,” she says.
Then they’re at the front of the line. Hiromi shows their tickets, gets their hands stamped, and leads them down a narrow flight of stairs, all with the knowledge pinging around his brain that Kaoru has just challenged him to get his hand under her skirt, in a public place. Without drawing attention.
Hiromi isn’t particularly an exhibitionist, but he’s a massive fan of going along with Kaoru’s ideas, since they invariably result in spectacular orgasms.
The basement bar that’s hosting this show is loud, low-ceilinged, and hot with the mugginess of many bodies packed into close quarters. There’s a tug at Hiromi’s waistband, and he looks back to see that Kaoru has curled her fingers through one of his beltloops to keep them from getting separated by the crowds.
“Lead the way,” Kaoru says, just barely audible over the noise of the crowd.
Hiromi obeys, steering them to the bar first for drinks, and then finding a spot along one wall where they’ll have a decent view of the stage, but can also leave without too much trouble if Kaoru turns out to hate it.
“Which of these bands are you a fan of?” Kaoru asks, sipping her beer as she looks around the room. She’s not the only person with pink hair, and many others have part of their head shaved, like Hiromi does. They don’t stand out, and the anonymity is oddly comforting.
“Uh. Well – the second band, the headliners, two of the guys used to be in a different band that I’ve seen a few times. They split up, but these two started a new group. They’re supposed to be pretty good.”
“So, you haven’t seen them perform.”
“Nope.”
Kaoru’s eyes narrow.
“What about the first band?”
“I think they’re highschoolers.”
Her eyebrows rise.
“And the last band?”
Hiromi runs his tongue along the backs of his teeth.
“It’s not really a band, he’s just one guy. I think he has a looping pedal.”
“A looping pedal,” Kaoru repeats. She’s leaning on the railing that separates the area for the non-dancing audience from the dancefloor, looking up at Hiromi in perplexity. She’d unzipped her leather jacket as they descended into the humid press of the basement, and it hangs open over her white t-shirt. It’s too dim down here to see details, but the open fronts of her jacket catch just enough on the slight swell of her breasts as she shifts her weight that Hiromi feels awareness of her body sink through him like honey.
“Yeah. I haven’t seen him perform, though.”
“I can’t understand buying tickets, when you’re entirely unfamiliar with the lineup,” Kaoru protests. She takes a drink of beer, frowning out over the crowd.
Hiromi shrugs. “I don’t know, I’ll get to hear music that I can’t hear anywhere else. It’s a really unique experience, y’know? Something brand-new, that’s not all polished and packaged and ready to be sold to people.”
Hiromi is gesturing enough while he’s speaking that he very nearly flings beer on the people standing in the sunken dancefloor in front of them. Luckily, it mostly splashes over his hand, and he swears, switching his can to the other hand so he can lick beer off his knuckles. He’d worry about what Kaoru thinks, but he already knows that she doesn’t mind a little mess.
Indeed, she’s grinning at him when he finally looks up, with his tongue in the V between two fingers and the sourness of beer sharp on his tastebuds.
“To unique experiences,” says Kaoru, holding out her own beer can in a toast, warmth in her gaze.
Hiromi taps his beer can against hers, feeling himself smiling back with anticipation. He has a good feeling about tonight.
The first band is terrible.
Kaoru refrains from commenting, calmly watching the show while she finishes her beer. Hiromi makes an honest effort to find something to enjoy about the music, but the guitar is out of tune, the drummer can’t keep a steady beat, and the singer is clearly the one who’s written eleven songs about heartbreak, going off the overwrought sincerity of his facial expressions. Despite all that, a decent number of the people up near the front are dancing. Hiromi’s glad the kids aren’t going to feel like their show completely flopped.
A hand touches his arm, left bare by his leather vest. Kaoru is up on her toes, pressed close and steadying herself with her grip on his arm.
“Another beer?” She holds up her empty can in illustration.
Hiromi only has a little left. He takes a final swig, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. “Sure. Thanks,” he says, handing her the empty can.
Kaoru takes it, then gives him a smile and squeezes his arm in farewell before turning to slip though the crowd. Hiromi watches her go, her bright hair spilling over the black-and-steel bulk of her jacket, the sleek skirt pulling tight with each shift of her body below the leather.
Hiromi abruptly remembers that he’s supposed to be trying to get his hand under Kaoru’s skirt. Despite the terrible band, he’s enjoying being out at a show enough to have temporarily forgotten.
No longer. His mission is firmly at the front of mind.
Kaoru returns through a denser crowd, more people trickling in as the opening act draws to a close. Their neighbours have crowded closer during her absence, so there’s less space in their corner, up against the railing. Hiromi steps back, and Kaoru tucks herself between his body and the railing, back to front.
“Thanks,” says Hiromi, taking the beer she offers him, the cold aluminum already sweating. He shifts his weight to increase the contact between their bodies, snugging his hips to hers.
With Kaoru mostly facing away, Hiromi just catches the edge of a pleased smile curling her lips. She shifts, bracing her feet and arching her back, rubbing her ass against his crotch.
They only have a moment or two to stand like that before the first band’s set ends. Applause crackles through the air, and then as it fades, voices rise to replace each pair of clapping hands and the crowd shifts around them.
Kaoru turns around, leaning back against the railing. “What are the best concerts you’ve attended?”
It’s not accusatory, as though she were complaining about Hiromi’s choice of an outing. Kaoru’s just looking up at him curiously, elbows propped behind her on the railing and head cocked.
Hiromi takes her at her word, and dredges up all the memories from when he first starting going to shows as a teenager. Kaoru listens with every indication of interest, reacting to each beat of the story and asking questions. The crowd ebbs around them as people line up at the bar or the bathrooms, but even with the extra room Kaoru makes no move to put more distance between them, neatly slotted between his body and the railing with her booted feet tucked between his.
Hiromi talks so much that he’s barely touched his beer by the time Kaoru finishes hers. Right as she asks if he wants another, a cheer goes up from the crowd near the front as the headliners take the stage.
“Have as much as you want of mine,” Hiromi offers. It’s a terrible time to try to cleave a path to the bar, with everyone streaming back to pack in tightly.
“An indirect kiss,” Kaoru says, amused, as she twists around to face the stage again. She tugs the cool, slick can out of his grip to take a sip, then hands it back.
The lead singer finishes chatting with the crowd as his bandmates get into position and adjust their instruments, and then they’re launching into their first song. Fortunately, they’re much better than the opening act.
Kaoru seems to agree, moving to the beat of the music – tapping her fingers on the railing, her body shifting in a loose-limbed sway. Whether it’s intentional or not, with the way they’re pressed together, her ass rubs against Hiromi with every move. He’s rapidly most of the way to hard, straining uncomfortably at the front of his jeans. Maybe it’s disrespectful to not be strictly paying attention to the music, but Hiromi is submerged in sensation. He feels intoxicated, even though he hasn’t had much to drink, hot pleasure throbbing through his veins while the loud, energizing music fills him. The can of beer is sharply cool and wet in his fist, while Kaoru is all soft warmth against him.
Her hair tickles his throat with the turn of her head, and she reaches up to grasp the back of his neck in one slim hand. Hiromi shivers, pleasure trickling down his spine.
Kaoru’s breath puffs over his ear in a hot rush as she asks, “Which are the two you’ve seen before?”
“Uh.” Hiromi struggles to the surface, realizing he’s closed his eyes while his other senses are overwhelmed. He shakes off some of the haziness and focuses on Kaoru’s questions. “The drummer and the bassist.” He has to duck his head to bring his mouth close to her ear, soft pink hair brushing his cheek.
“Hn.” Kaoru returns to watching the stage, but leaves her hand on the back of his neck, short fingernails stroking lightly over the sensitive edge of his hairline.
As the crowd has shifted, they’ve moved to the left, ending up close to the wall with no one beside them. Hypnotized by the easy pleasure of Kaoru’s nails at his nape, Hiromi lets his left hand rest on Kaoru’s hip, curling around the warm skin-tight leather. Music fills his ears, the drumbeat vibrating through the soles of his boots and in his chest, everywhere dim except for the bright lights trained on the stage.
Slowly, Hiromi creeps his fingers down to the hem of Kaoru’s skirt, then past it onto her thigh. She’s wearing fishnet tights, the mesh too small for someone to hook their fingers into, so Hiromi can’t feel much of her skin. Kaoru stays pressed against his front, making no move to pull away, stroking the back of his neck encouragingly.
The crowd around them bursts into applause as a song comes to an end. Hiromi freezes. Pulling away would make it obvious what they’re up to.
Kaoru takes her hand off his neck to clap along, and Hiromi manages a wordless shout for the band, all his awareness on where his hand is wrapped around the warm thickness of Kaoru’s thigh. The band starts playing again, drawing and fixing the attention of the crowd, and Hiromi edges his little finger under the hem of Kaoru’s skirt.
He waits until the people in front of them are absorbed in dancing before drawing his hand up the back of Kaoru’s thigh, pushing the back of her skirt up. Smooth skin meets his palm – the fishnets are stockings, not tights, which end just below her ass, leaving Hiromi cupping a bare asscheek. His tongue feels thick in his mouth, and he swallows the wetness welling behind his lips. In front of him, Kaoru acts as though she’s simply listening to the music, both hands resting on the railing in front of her. Anyone down on the dancefloor in front of them could look back up and figure out where Hiromi’s hand is.
Kaoru had challenged him to find out whether she was wearing anything under her skirt, and while the evidence so far suggests that the answer is ‘no’, she could be wearing a thong.
It puts his arm at an awkward angle – this would be impossible to conceal if they weren’t sheltered on one side by the wall – but Hiromi manages to work his hand further between their bodies, in towards the crevice of Kaoru’s ass. He can’t quite reach with his little finger, but when he stretches, he’s able to find the tender, hot skin between her cheeks with his ring finger.
Kaoru twitches, the jolt running through her whole body. She plucks the can of beer from Hiromi’s other hand and takes a drink, then instead of setting it down, holds it up near her face, partly shielding her expression from the crowd around them.
Music pulsing around them, his jaw slack with focus, Hiromi eases further in, following soft, hot skin to Kaoru’s asshole. She clenches at his first touch, then relaxes, pressing back, the tip of his ring finger dipping into the tight, dry clutch of her hole.
No thong, confirmed.
Hiromi could stop now. He’s got an answer. He should stop now, on the verge of fingering someone at a concert, with easily a dozen strangers crowded around them.
Kaoru’s face is pink, when Hiromi cranes his head far enough to check on her. Her gaze is unfocused, directed out vaguely towards the stage. While Hiromi stays frozen, Kaoru arches her back and sags back against him, driving his finger a fraction deeper. It’s got to be uncomfortable, without anything slicking the way, but her lips part on a tiny cry that’s drowned out by all the sound around them, and she shivers.
When Hiromi twitches his finger, tugging at her rim, Kaoru stifles a gasp against the sweating aluminum of the can of beer. Her asshole clenches in response, squeezing tight around him, and then relaxes again, and somehow Hiromi’s finger sinks another tiny degree deeper. He hasn’t made it past her inner muscles into the soft slickness of her ass, just hot, tender skin wrapped tight around the first joint of his finger, but the sensation is still going straight to his dick.
Kaoru is leaning against the railing and keeping her ass canted back, the lines of her body eager and inviting. Since the angle of his wrist doesn’t allow much movement, Hiromi is limited to flexing his finger, pulling rhythmically against the muscle tightly gripping him. His cock strains the front of his pants, eager to be wrapped in that tightness. It’s an odd motion, nothing like the thrusting motion Hiromi is used to using, but it makes Kaoru pant against the can she’s holding to her face, reaching back to grab his hip for stability. The music washes over them, too loud for Hiromi to hear Kaoru, but he’s focused so closely on every one of her reactions that he can clearly imagine the quiet rasp of her breath. Kaoru starts to tense, fingers digging into his hip and thighs pressing together.
The song ends, and applause bursts over them like a cold rainfall. Hiromi is abruptly brought back to where they are and the crowd of strangers around them.
He carefully draws his hand away from Kaoru’s ass, and tugs her skirt back into place. She shudders as his finger slips free, and twists to look up at him, cheeks flushed a vivid pink and dark-lined eyes heavy-lidded. Up on stage, the band is thanking the audience for attending.
“You wanna head out?” asks Hiromi, leaning down and raising his voice over the continuing applause.
Kaoru’s brows furrow in concern. “You’ll miss the guy with the looping pedal, though.”
Hiromi bursts out laughing, Kaoru grins, and they turn to go. As they squeeze through the crowd, she throws back the last of the beer she’s been holding and leaves the empty can on a table without breaking stride. Hiromi lets himself watch the flex of her ass under her little leather skirt, the gleaming material wrapped around her curves, and think about the tight heat waiting for him.
As they come out onto the sidewalk, the sudden cool air is bracing. Hiromi blinks, trying to gather his thoughts. It’s a significant bus ride to his apartment, plus the bus doesn’t come often this time of night. He tugs at the inseam of his jeans to make space for his swollen cock, unsure how far he’ll be able to travel like this, and turns to ask if Kaoru wants to split taxi fare.
Kaoru already has her phone out and is industriously swiping around a map, zooming and tapping.
“There’s a love hotel just a few blocks that way.” She points along the road, the opposite direction from the train station.
“Lead the way.”
They fall into step, weaving through the scattered collection of concert-goers who’d come outside to smoke, or make phone calls, or chat with their friends. The noise fades behind them as they head further up the street, until it’s quiet enough that all Hiromi hears is their footfalls. The air is cool on sweat-damp skin after their time in the hot, thick air in the basement bar, and after a couple of blocks Hiromi’s cock isn’t quite as hard. Which is a relief – he straightens up from his bow-legged hobble, able to walk more naturally.
The hotel Kaoru has found for them is plain and unassuming, with a touchscreen kiosk in the lobby, rather than a human concierge. Within moments, Kaoru is tapping her card to pay and then leading him down the hallway to their room. Hiromi looks around as they both take their boots off just inside, and finds that the room itself is as bland and functional as the hotel foyer. He’s slightly disappointed – he hasn’t actually gone to a love hotel before. Maybe an entertainment district would have something more fun, but this neighbourhood is mostly office buildings.
“Ooh, check this out!”
Kaoru’s voice echoes off the tiles in the bathroom, and Hiromi wanders over to join her. This is much more like he’d expect from a love hotel – the bathroom is huge, with a large tiled walk-in shower space at the back of the room, showerheads projecting from either wall. Nearer the door, a sink is set in a wide, sturdy counter on one side of the room, and there’s a cubicle containing a toilet on the other side.
As Hiromi comes in, Kaoru turns to him, reaching up to curl her fingers into the lapels of his leather vest. Her body presses against his as she rises up on her toes, tipping her face up.
“Would you like to pick up where you left off?” murmurs Kaoru.
Hiromi realizes his hands have automatically come up to cup her ass, palms moulding around the warm leather and full cheeks underneath. As an answer, he dips his head to kiss Kaoru.
After being hyperaware of how much they were touching at the concert, it’s an indulgent relief just to make out like this. Hiromi savours the feeling of her mouth against his while he kneads her ass while Kaoru grips his biceps in return, fingers creeping up under the edges of his vest and tracing back and forth, just under where the leather covers. It’s almost ticklish, but Hiromi is too distracted by the way she licks into his mouth in pursuit of his tongue piercing to protest.
They sway together, gasped breaths and the shuffle of feet echoing off the tiles. Hiromi licks over Kaoru’s lip ring, playing the tip of his tongue over the warm ring of metal, and slips his hands under her skirt so he can cup her bare ass, two fingers slipping between her cheeks into the sweat-damp heat.
Kaoru moans, the sound echoing off the walls and jarring Hiromi back into awareness. Presumably they’d both like to do more than kiss while fully-clothed, while they’re paying for privacy. Hiromi withdraws his hands to rest on Kaoru’s hips, and lifts his head.
“What would you like to do?”
Kaoru blinks up at him. Her lip ring glints in the bathroom lighting.
“Well,” says Kaoru, and then pauses, looking thoughtful. Her gaze flicks to the door to the toilet, and then back to Hiromi. “How much of a mess do you want to make?”
Hiromi blinks once. Twice.
“Uh. I think I need a little more information.”
Kaoru holds his eyes as she draws her lower lip into her mouth, and then releases it, spit-shiny and pinkened from kissing.
“Okay, look. I really have to piss. I could do it now,” she gestures at the door to the toilet, “Or … in a few minutes.” She uses her grip on his vest as leverage to pull their bodies close, pressing up against the line of his erection so that there’s no doubt what she means.
Hiromi feels like he’s fallen off his board and hit the pavement, with how thoroughly Kaoru’s question has erased everything else from his brain. His skin flushes with heat and his cock kicks, straining to escape his jeans. With his last spare atom of awareness, he notices the drain set in the floor between the showerheads, making it a perfect place for this.
There’s no way that Hiromi could say no to this, even if he’d have to scrub the floor afterwards. Any lingering restraint that hadn’t been shredded when he put his finger up Kaoru’s ass in a public place is gone, and he’s dizzy with how badly he wants it.
“Are you gonna hold it as long as you can, while I try to fuck it out of you?” Hiromi’s voice comes out rough-edged, closer to the low growl he puts on as Shadow.
“Do I get punished if I fail?” Kaoru asks, eyes sparking with heat.
She’s already stepping back to unzip her skirt, so Hiromi doesn’t bother answering, just runs back out to grab a lube packet from the bedside basket of amenities. By the time he’s back, Kaoru is naked except for her t-shirt and leather jacket, her skirt and both fishnet stockings hung neatly alongside the hotel-issued bathrobes.
“I thought you might enjoy it if I kept the jacket on.” Kaoru tugs at the hem, smirking slightly.
She’s correct – with the bulk of the black leather wrapped around her chest and shoulders, the contrast of her bare skin below the waist is even more striking. The patch of dark curls at the juncture of her legs, the curves of her hip-thigh-calf, the way her knees are pressed firmly together, are all on display.
“You know me pretty well.”
Hiromi offers Kaoru his hand, and gallantly leads her across to the shower area. With cool, smooth tiles under their feet, he bends his head to kiss her again, and Kaoru meets his lips with enthusiasm – but pulls back after only a moment.
“I have limited time,” she says, shifting her weight from foot to foot like her bladder is getting close to painfully full. There’s pinkness blooming on her cheeks, from arousal or embarrassment, Hiromi can’t tell.
“I’d better hurry up and fuck you, huh?” He can’t quite keep a teasing note out of his voice.
Kaoru’s only response is to turn to face the wall, bending forward and pressing her hands to the tiles. Her ass sticks out enticingly, the smooth round curves fully bared by the way her raised arms pull the hem of her jacket higher.
Keeping Kaoru’s urgency in mind, Hiromi doesn’t delay, quickly opening his jeans and getting his dick out. He rips open the packet of lube he’d grabbed and slicks up his dick, limiting himself to one toe-curling stroke of his hand before rubbing the remaining lube over Kaoru’s asshole. He slips each finger inside, one after another, to ease the tight-clenched muscle for penetration and to spread as much lube as possible in and around her asshole. She’s proven several times over that she doesn’t need much in the way of prep, and Hiromi likes the frantic feeling of tonight, how they weren’t able to wait until they were behind closed doors. How it felt to be surrounded by a crowd, music crashing in his ears, a beer in one hand and a finger of the other wrapped in Kaoru’s tight heat.
Here in the hotel, it’s quiet and well-lit as he slips his smallest finger inside Kaoru and twists it back and forth, spreading lube around and trying to persuade her asshole to relax for him. She’s just as captivating as when she was leaning up against the railing and rubbing her ass against him, effortlessly driving Hiromi wild with need.
Even with Kaoru’s tightly clamped-together thighs, Hiromi is able to part her cheeks with his lube-wet fingers, guiding his cockhead to her asshole with his other hand. Kaoru audibly breathes out as he starts to press in – and then stops, coming up against much more resistance than he’s used to. Usually, her body is soft and welcoming for him. He pauses, and opens his mouth to ask her if they need to change their plans.
Kaoru grunts, slaps the wall, and deepens the bend of her body. Slowly, she eases her feet apart. All at once, her asshole softens – and Hiromi, unprepared, plunges inside nearly all the way before he catches his balance, tight heat enveloping him.
The staccato sound of a couple of drops spattering the tiles under their feet echoes around the room. Kaoru ducks her head lower, pink hair falling forward to hide the flushed tips of her ears.
“Already, huh?” Hiromi pulls back against the tight, slick grip of her ass – she must be clenching hard, trying not to let go too quickly – and then fucks back in, reveling the way she’s squeezing around him. Hiromi’s not going to last very long, either.
“This is much more intense than I expected,” Kaoru manages, breathless and strained.
She grunts when Hiromi seats himself fully inside again, squirming like she’s fighting with all she has not to let go and piss all over the floor – and then when Hiromi starts up a quick, hard rhythm, she moans, hands curling into fists where they’re braced on the wall. Kaoru’s body sways with each slap of their bodies meeting, hair spilling forward over her shoulders and the black leather jacket gleaming under the light. Half-undressed like this, with her bare ass sticking out below the hem of her jacket, it feels rushed and semi-public.
Some people are skilled at speaking their horny thoughts out loud and making them sound hot. Hiromi usually thinks too hard about getting the phrasing right, and then the moment has passed. Kaoru makes him want to take risks, although he still feels a bit stupid as he leans down, bringing his mouth closer to her ear.
“Feels like we’re pulled over by the side of the road, or something.”
Kaoru huffs, half a laugh.
“Yeah? Want to bend me over my motorcycle?”
That lances through Hiromi like a bolt of lightning – Kaoru has mentioned owning a motorcycle a couple of times, but Hiromi mostly sees little sporty bikes on the road. He’d never made the connection that she might have a practical use for all the leather she owns, and the image of Kaoru astride a loud, powerful vehicle floods his brain.
“Fuck, yeah.”
Hiromi is too caught up in the fantasy to come up with a more coherent reply, but Kaoru grasps the thread.
“Everyone who drives past would see how much I like your cock.” Even with the way she’s panting out the words between thrusts, desire throbs hot through her tone.
“How much you like getting fucked in the ass,” Hiromi half-echoes. He slips one hand under the hem of her shirt, up along her ribs until he finds her tits, and pinches a pierced nipple.
“Ah!”
Whether it’s the pinch, Hiromi’s words, or his cock striking exactly the right place, Kaoru’s body suddenly lets go. A shudder runs through her, her ass fluttering rhythmically around Hiromi’s cock as piss starts hitting the floor, the spatter echoing crisply off the tiled shower walls.
Kaoru’s stream doesn’t slow down as Hiromi fucks her through it, the rank scent rising to surround them as a warm puddle surrounds their feet. She’s making little half-pained noises into the wall that’s propping her up, even as she arches her back to tip her ass up for more.
Hiromi slips an arm around her waist to hold her steady, picking up speed as the trickle finally trails off. Thinking about how full and ready to burst Kaoru has been winds something tight at the base of Hiromi’s spine, and he braces his wet feet, fucking Kaoru’s ass faster and harder until he’s hammering into her. She’s warm under him, the leather of her jacket smooth against his belly where his tank top has ridden up, and the fantasies of being pulled over at the side of the road start to mingle with thoughts of being back out in the crowd at the concert. Kaoru bent over the railing above the dancefloor, her skirt hiked up just enough for Hiromi to slip his cock into her.
The fantasies still pale in comparison to the reality of Kaoru, warm and vital and noisy below him, her ass gripping him tight and garbled noises spilling from her lips. The building heat spills over, and Hiromi comes, smothering his groan in Kaoru’s soft hair as his body locks tight. His pulse throbs in his throat, sweat pricks the backs of his knees and under his arms, the sharp scent of urine scrapes astringent with every inhale. He drags out the pleasure by slowly grinding his pulsing cock into Kaoru until he’s starting to soften and edging to oversensitivity.
Hiromi immediately becomes aware of a hot pressure throbbing insistently at the base of his dick. He drank less, but there’s still a couple of beers that have made their way through his body.
He should pull out. Cross the room to the little toilet cubicle, and deal with things there. Kaoru seems completely wrung out, barely keeping herself upright, and would probably like privacy to shower as soon as possible.
Hiromi swallows, and then asks, “How much more of a mess should we make?”
Kaoru turns to look up at him over her shoulder. Instead of speaking, she raises her eyebrows expectantly.
“Same kind of mess as yours,” Hiromi mumbles. “Should I pull out or, uh, stay put?”
Incredulity has pulled Kaoru’s eyebrows up to disappear under her hair. A disbelieving smile tugs at the corners of her mouth.
“You’re not done filling me up?” Her voice is a low rasp, wrecked with pleasure.
Heat bursts over Hiromi’s skin. He looks down at where his still-fat cock disappears between Kaoru’s cheeks, unable to look her in the eye. He’s rapidly running out of time, and he tightens every muscle in his groin against it – but they’re all muscles that worked hard while he was fucking her, and they’re sluggish to respond.
“I think you’ve got room.” Most of the puddle they’d been standing in has drained away across the tiled shower floor, but there’s enough left to splash wetly when he taps his foot on the tiles.
Kaoru laughs and arches her back, pushing her ass squarely back onto his dick, then clenches down around him, sending a jolt of heat up Hiromi’s spine. Before he can speak, Kaoru rolls her hips, the slick heat of her ass tugs firmly at his half-hard dick and he loses the battle, letting go and flooding Kaoru’s ass with piss.
“Fffffuck,” Hiromi groans, relief tingling up his spine even as he frantically tries to stop, but his muscles only offer a fluttery attempt to cut off his stream before failing.
“Ah!” Kaoru snaps her mouth shut around the next exclamation, making it a strangled whine.
“Sorry!”
It’s difficult to speak around the overwhelming feeling of release, Hiromi struggling to keep his eyes open and his knees from buckling. The sloshing heat as he fills Kaoru’s ass is strange and wrong and incredible, and it’s got to feel absolutely bizarre to her, the combination of fullness and heat.
“S’fine,” gasps Kaoru, “Just weird.” And then, “How are you still going?”
Hiromi laughs, one airy breath. The urgency of his bladder is fading, and he could probably manage to stop, but Kaoru is rocking back into him with tiny movements while he fills her up at a steady pace. Hiromi shifts the arm that’s around her waist, reaching down between her legs. His fingers are wetted first with cooling piss, and then with slippery heat when he presses between her folds.
“Oh!”
Kaoru’s whole body twitches with the touch on her stiffened clit, and then she’s gasping as Hiromi starts rubbing quick circles over her just as his stream is easing to a stop. He’s gotten used to Kaoru coming multiple times when they’re together, and he’s amazed at how many things can send her rocketing up to the precipice – sucking cock, toying with his piercings, being spanked, having her nipples played with, any kind of assplay. And now, it seems, being pissed in.
When Kaoru’s moaning goes high and strained, Hiromi lifts his hand from her hip and slaps her asscheek hard, the crack echoing off the tiles, to give her a final push over the edge. Kaoru gives a choked cry and clenches down on his soft cock, tension gripping her for a long, shivering moment before she sags, her head hanging down between her arms where they’re still braced on the wall.
Hiromi holds still while she catches her breath. The warmth enveloping his cock is a different kind of wet from the slickness of regular fucking, Kaoru filled to the brim. Slowly, carefully, he pulls out, one hand holding himself so his wet cock doesn’t get his jeans wet. Even with Kaoru clenching around him, a little piss trickles down her thighs as his cockhead pops free.
Kaoru straightens up and slowly turns to face him. She runs her fingers through her hair to push it out of her face, leaving it in a tangled mane.
“That was incredible. Also, I have never needed a shower more in my life.” Her voice is rough-edged from all the panting and moaning she’s been doing.
Hiromi snorts. “Yeah, I bet. Do you want any help?”
“I’d prefer no witnesses,” says Kaoru flatly. An odd expression flits over her face and she firmly presses her legs together.
“Right, of course.”
Hiromi starts to leave, hobbled into a careful shuffle by his jeans being half-pushed down, but Kaoru’s fingers on his bare arm stop him. He turns back, and she pulls him down into a kiss, mouth soft and eager against his. They sway awkwardly, Kaoru keeping her wet crotch away from Hiromi, and Hiromi still holding his wet cock so it doesn’t touch anything, but manage to hold the kiss for a few moments before parting.
“I’ve, uh, never done that before,” Hiromi confesses in a low whisper against Kaoru’s mouth.
“Neither have I. Being fingered in public, or having my ass being pissed in.” With their faces so close, Kaoru’s gaze flits from one of Hiromi’s eyes to the other, then back. “It was a lot of fun.”
Hiromi’s face heats up. They’ve done so many stupid, impulsive things together, and somehow it’s all worked, every time. He doesn’t know which one of them has brought such an amazing streak of luck to everything between them, but Hiromi hopes it’ll last.
“I’ll leave you to it,” Hiromi says, finally stepping out of the shower area.
Kaoru hums in acknowledgement, already turning on the spray. The sharp splatter of the water hitting the tile sounds just like when she came with Hiromi’s cock in her ass and let go all over the floor, and a fruitless thrill of arousal shivers up Hiromi’s spine.
Hiromi rinses off his hand and cock at the sink, and soaks a washcloth so he can wipe his feet and clean up the pee footprints he’s tracked across the bathroom floor. Obviously the hotel has staff for that, but Hiromi can’t imagine being rude enough to leave without a passing attempt at cleaning up after himself.
As he rinses and wrings out the washcloth, Kaoru is still in the shower with steam gathered thick around her, so Hiromi heads out to the bed to wait for his turn in the shower. He grabs one of the hotel-provided robes on his way out, and shuts the bathroom door behind himself, giving Kaoru privacy.
The bed has a truly baffling number of pillows on it. Hiromi manages to balance five of them on the armchair off to the side, stripping down and tossing his jeans, shirt, and vest on top of the heap, and still has plenty of pillows to lean back against. The robe from the bathroom isn’t quite big enough for him – the front only barely closes, leaving most of his chest out, with just enough fabric to cover his dick.
Hiromi spends a few minutes idly checking his phone, though he keeps staring off into space, swept away by reminiscing about everything they’ve done tonight. The sex was incredible, but all of the non-sex parts of the evening were great, too. He’d like to go to a concert with Kaoru again, whether or not he puts his hand up her skirt in public. Maybe she’d like to skate together sometime, either at S or at an ordinary skatepark.
The bathroom door opens, and Kaoru emerges in a cloud of steam. She’s wrapped in the other hotel robe, pink hair a fluffy, humid mass around her shoulders. She comes straight over to the bed, climbing in and settling in next to Hiromi.
“Should we extend the booking until the morning?” Kaoru asks, busily arranging pillows to prop herself up comfortably against the headboard.
Hiromi shrugs, and climbs off the bed, ready for his turn in the shower. “I was going to head home tonight. I’d stand out a bit too much taking a morning bus with a bunch of salarymen, dressed in leather.”
“Keep their commute boring,” agrees Kaoru. “Or we could go to my place once you’ve showered, if there’s any chance you want another round. I’ve got all the amenities of a love hotel.”
On the threshold of the bathroom doorway, Hiromi pauses. Kaoru is looking down at her phone, the picture of casual unconcern, but the offer feels significant. It’s the first time Kaoru has invited him over – all their previous dates have been at his place, aside from their first meeting at Kaoru’s rental space.
He’s not sure if it means anything, or if it’s just Kaoru wanting to sleep in her own bed and also wanting to keep him nearby in case she gets horny again, but nothing could compel Hiromi to turn down the offer.
“I don’t know if I can get it up again before the morning,” Hiromi cautions, “but – yeah, I’d love that.”
Even underlit by the bluish light of her phone screen, the small, pleased smile that Kaoru gives him glows with warmth.
Hiromi hurries into the bathroom, suddenly eager to find out what further surprises the night holds in store.