Work Text:
where r u rn?
Souji blinks at the message on his phone screen with a cheek full of pork gyoza. It glows bright in the dim lighting of the izakaya his company picked for the night. An almost intimate setting, were he here with Minato instead of the accounting department.
He finishes chewing as he types out a response. The soft little clicks from the keypad are drowned out by the noise around him.
An izakaya. Coworkers wanted to get drinks after work. :p
The gyoza is the perfect balance of soft and crispy. He reaches for another then types out another message.
You might like it! We haven’t had drinks in a while. The food is really good.
Souji shuts his phone and sets it to the side. More drinks have been delivered and he receives a bottle to wash his food down with. His coworkers are also pouring sake, and he knows he’ll be offered a cup soon enough by one of the girls. Everyone is already in high spirits, cozy around the table while it freezes outside.
Souji wonders what Minato is up to right now, knowing how much he despises cold weather. Maybe wrapped up under the kotatsu playing that new game he was telling Souji about, glued to the television until morning. He’d much rather be there than listening to company gossip.
His phone buzzes against the wooden table at the same time he’s knocking back a cup of sake. It’s warmed and it adds to the burn it sends down his throat, down his whole body, but he laughs along with his coworkers when they cheer.
i’d rather get soup, Minato’s text says, its too cold for anything else.
He’s in the middle of typing out a response when he gets another message from Minato.
when do u think youll be done?
Someone ordered another plate of fresh takoyaki. The smell wafts through the air and hits him square in the nose. Souji’s mouth waters just the slightest.
Not sure, but we might be here late. Is something the matter?
There’s no immediate response, so he shuts his phone again and leaves it in lieu of the takoyaki. The sweet savory flavor is a respite from the burn of the sake, and he goes for a piece of shrimp tempura next.
Minato takes his time responding. There’s a good stretch of time where Souji is actively engaged in that week’s petty office gossip while he finishes his drink until he hears the familiar buzz against wood.
no im just rly bored
would be way more fun if u were here
Souji has to stop himself from smiling too hard at his phone. Butterflies go off in his stomach as if he were a kid in school talking to their crush, but he blames the alcohol. The giddy, buzzing atmosphere of the restaurant and radiating off of his coworkers adds to the warmth in his belly, stretching up to his chest. If Minato were here, everything would be perfect.
He says as much, too. Types it out with a dopey smile, an earnest I’d have more fun here with you, before hitting send. Souji chases more of that pleasant warmth with a new bottle of beer right after.
Minato doesn’t make him wait this time. He shoots back a simple, yeah? before Souji’s phone is buzzing again with another message received. There’s a photo attachment that he opens without a second thought.
He’s welcomed by the sight of Minato in bed, but instead of being blanket-cocooned like Souji imagined he’d be, he was—
Souji snapped his phone shut. His face, already a bit flushed from the alcohol, had begun to burn hot. It was only for a few seconds, but he’d memorized every inch of Minato’s photo, even in his tipsy state.
His shirt was pushed up, bunched up at his collarbones to reveal the slight swell in his chest. More than that, something silver glinted with the flash of his phone’s camera, two silver little bars pierced right through his nipples. But the angle was generous, giving Souji a near full view of his stomach, down to his navel, stopping just before his hips, where he knew Minato was probably…
One of Minato’s hands was cupping his own tits, squeezing at the pale flesh. Souji knows how soft his skin is. He’s felt him in his own hands. His own hands that itch to flip his phone back open. Right next to all of his coworkers in this semi-dark room, surrounded by strangers.
His phone buzzed again. Souji hesitates for a moment before flipping it open slowly, letting out a breath when he sees it’s a simple text message.
U could be having fun with me, says Minato, ditch ur coworkers?
It was tempting. They were the type to take advantage of these drinking parties and get wasted until the wee hours of the morning. This probably had to do with the fact that these stupid little parties were, on some level, mandatory. If Souji were to leave now, before they really started enjoying themselves, he’d never hear the end of it. The department manager had personally asked him to come, after all. A hopeful part of him wants to believe there was a promotion riding on all of this.
Souji sends a response with all the regret in the world.
I can’t, it says, but I really really reallg wish I could.
He opts to distract himself with beer. Beer and more snacks. He nearly fights one of his coworkers for the last takoyaki when his phone buzzes again.
Another photo attachment.
Maybe it’s just a simple photo of Minato frowning. He’s sent those before, whenever Souji told him a particularly bad joke. His rose colored lips curl into a cute little frown that makes him want to kiss him right through his screen.
So maybe it’s safe to open. Souji chances it.
And shuts it so fast that a few startled heads whip around to face him.
“You alright, Seta-kun?” one of them asks. One of the girls from his department and one of the only ones not sporting an alcohol-induced flush.
“He keeps checking his phone,” his coworker next to him says, before nudging him with a smile Souji could only describe as sleazy, “talking to your girl?”
Hard to agree when he’s the one blushing like a schoolgirl. He forces out a laugh anyway, waving the accusation off. “No, nothing like that. I’m just— expecting an important call.”
“So you’re not dating anyone?” Another girl from his department chirps. Souji’s always thought her to be quite pretty, but in the same way he thought Rise was pretty: terribly platonic. Not the kind of pretty that makes his stomach trip all over itself, not Minato -pretty. He should feel bad for thinking that way and he does, but he also hardly cares, and that makes him feel a little bad. It’s an awful, confusing cycle that repeats in his head, made worse by the alcohol in his system fogging his mind.
(And Minato’s photos, but he doesn’t want those to stop coming.)
Souji fumbles for an answer. His coworkers are waiting for his response and for once, he isn’t composed enough to think of a clever answer. Instead, he just says, “I… didn’t say that.”
His coworker’s lips purse into a frown. “So you are,” She sighs, a dramatic sound that draws a few laughs from his other coworkers, “I should have known.”
“Why would you want to date someone from work?” his coworker next to him asks, “You’d get sick of seeing them everyday.”
“I wouldn’t expect you to understand.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
His coworkers’ bickering fades into the rest of the restaurant’s noise, though it’s all static to Souji’s ears. He takes another sip of his drink before flipping his phone back open. It’s a peek. Just a peek. No harm can come from a peek.
The photo is of Minato, just as he expected, but it’s nowhere near safe to open in public. His lap takes up most of the photo, bare of clothing, but it’s what’s on his lap that has Souji feeling light headed.
Bright pink and curving inwards at the tip. A motor at the base of it. Souji’s always wondered if Minato had any toys like this, but he’s always been too shy to ask. Even more shy to ask if he’d ever use them on Souji.
Souji reads the timestamps. Minato sent another message after that.
bummer :/ is all it says, followed by two more a few minutes after.
i havent used this one yet
was gonna ask u to help me out
Souji feels blood rush to his head and his dick, in that exact order. His face becomes so warm that he’s afraid he’ll start leaking blood from his nose.
He needs something cold. Something refreshing. Something like the ice cold beer one of his coworkers hands him, top already popped off so all he has to do is take a huge gulp. It’s a bad idea, because all it does is fuel the fire burning away in his belly.
His head swims as he types out a response, holding his phone close to his face because the keypad is suddenly spinning. Souji can’t seem to get his fingers to press the keys he wants, but Minato has never cared about grammar like he did.
How could I help? he asks, if I was fhere, what would yiu have me do?
Souji knows he shouldn’t entertain this. Minato is doing this on purpose to get a rile out of him because he knows it’ll work, and has seemed to always know just which buttons to push to get him hot under the collar. It’s working now, and Minato must be taking advantage of the fact that Souji is drinking. He never could handle his liquor very well.
Souji doesn’t bother to put his phone down. If his coworkers ask him about the white-knuckled grip he has on it, he won’t be able to come up with a comprehensible answer. Souji might spill everything right there and then, just come out and admit he’s waiting for his boyfriend’s next dirty photo.
He finishes off his beer before reaching for another one, snacks long forgotten. The only thing he needed to eat was currently teasing the ever loving fuck out of him from across town in his apartment.
And Minato is such a fucking tease . Souji glances every few seconds at his phone, going back to a plain black screen each time. He’s doing this on purpose, drawing it out until Souji can hardly hold himself together.
What’s worse is that Minato’s never done something like this before. It never occurred to Souji that phones indeed come with cameras and therefore, one could, hypothetically, take any kind of photo they wanted and send it to anyone they wanted. All it really takes is a bit of angling, and Minato’s always been a quick learner.
It’s a long while before he gets another two messages, one with a photo attachment and one without. He has a feeling it’s somehow worse than what he’s been sent so far, so Souji manages to get to his feet and excuse himself to the men’s room coherently. He only bumps into two people on his way there.
Souji couldn’t get to an empty stall faster. It’s a struggle to lock it after he stumbles in, fingers fumbling with the metal lock before they fumble with his phone.
Sucking in a breath, he flips it open and navigates to his and Minato’s messaging history. His pants become uncomfortably tight. Tighter than they were, if it’s even possible.
Minato’s legs are spread, and Souji’s looking straight at the motor of the vibrator from where it’s shoved inside his ass. The hand that isn’t holding Minato’s phone is spreading his cunt open, pretty and pink and Souji can see that it’s wet , even through the grain on his screen.
Minato’s messages that follow makes it so much worse.
maybe i’d let u play w me like this. all yours
only if ur good, puppy
He makes a noise in the back of his throat not unlike a whine from a dog. All his. All of Minato is his and he—
He’s in a dingy bathroom. He’s in a bathroom stall instead of giving Minato everything and anything he wants. It’s all so stupidly, terribly unfair .
Souji feels frustrated, crybaby tears gathering in his eyes but he blinks them away. Instead, he pulls up Minato’s profile and dials his number.
Minato picks up after three rings, totally unhurried. Or maybe he was in the middle of… something. Maybe Souji interrupted whatever he was doing with that dildo.
Or maybe not, because his voice is smooth and unaffected as he answers.
“Seta,” he greets, “I wasn’t expecting you to call.”
It’s a lie and Souji knows from the smile in his voice. He’s still playing with him like a toy.
“You’re being unfair,” Souji says, a bit proud of himself for managing to keep his words from slurring together into a mess, “What if— What if someone looked over at my phone?”
“You were opening them in public?” Minato huffs a laugh out, but it’s breathier than usual. Fades off a little too abruptly. Souji imagines him biting his bottom lip to stifle noise, drawn between his teeth like he does whenever Souji did something he really liked. “Those were just for you, y’know. I didn’t say you could share them.”
“I’d never!” he blurts, voice taking on an almost childish tone. He’s suddenly a child refusing to share again but it’s only because Minato said as much, that he is all Souji’s. Someone as wonderful and handsome as Arisato Minato wants to play with someone like him, even if for a short while, however long Minato liked him, and the fact went straight to his ego.
“I’d never,” he says again, “But I couldn’t really stop myself. I couldn’t, you’re just so— and I really like you, and I love seeing you, so I had to keep checking. I couldn’t help it.”
Souji could cringe at himself if he was sober. Those few bottles of beer, the single shot of sake, and everything about Minato had mixed together into a cocktail of sexual frustration and overwhelming affection that had nowhere to go. He never let himself get drunk because he was reduced to this, a pathetic puddle of every stupid, honest thing he’s ever wanted to say.
And fuck, he really likes Minato.
He’s laughing again, and it sounds like an actual laugh this time. More solid, less breathy. A subtle shift from his tone earlier, because he can read Souji like an open book even if they weren’t in front of each other and picks up on the tears about to spill over. “You’re pretty drunk, aren’t you?”
Souji nods before he remembers Minato can’t see him. “I think. A little. I had a few drinks.”
“Uh-huh. Enough to make you all sappy. Are you still with your coworkers?”
“No, I’m in the bathroom,” he takes a steadying breath, slumping against the door to the stall. Talking with Minato like this is nice, too. He still wonders about the dildo and what Minato is doing on the other end, though. He doesn’t sound like he’s touching himself, or if he is, he’s doing a very good job at controlling his voice. “They kept asking what I was doing with my phone, and they asked if I was dating anyone, and I didn’t want them to know.”
Minato hums, low and smooth. Souji lets his eyes slip shut. “You don’t want them to know about me?”
“Not like that,” says Souji, his words beginning to slur into each other just the slightest, “not that side of you. You said that was just for me. Right?”
There’s the sound of something shifting on Minato’s end. Something like bed sheets, or blankets. He’s still in bed, Souji realizes, and could still be touching himself. Maybe he’s just started all over again.
His suspicions are confirmed because when he talks, it’s back to that tone he answered with. Buttery and thick like honey, the same tone he uses when he knows Souji wants. “Mm-hm. Just you. Because you’re all for me, right?”
“Yeah,” murmurs Souji, one of his hands playing with the hem of his slacks, “I’d never do this with anyone else. Just you. You know that, right?”
“I know, puppy,” Minato coos, actually coos, and all at once Souji feels as if he actually could melt into a puddle, “I know you wouldn’t. You’re too well behaved for that.”
He’s too well-trained, is what he really means. But Minato doesn’t even have to say it, Souji already knows . All it takes is this shift in tone for Souji to melt into that familiar headspace, aided by the alcohol muddling his brain. It’s easy to just let go like this.
He wishes he were in Minato’s bed and in his arms instead of this dimly lit bathroom, though. Souji is still aware of where he is and holds his breath, listening for anyone else in the other stalls. They’re empty, so he could allow himself to at least— just a little couldn’t hurt. No one would know except for Minato. His coworkers wouldn’t miss him if he opted to stay here and let Minato talk to him some more.
Souji slides onto the toilet seat, leans back to make himself a bit more comfortable. His hand moves from the hem of his slacks to palm himself, “Wish I could help you like you asked. Wish I could—” his breath hitches at the memory of the most recent photo Minato sent, “Play with you, like you asked.”
It’s so rare for Minato to let Souji play with him. Usually it’s the other way around because that was what Souji likes best, and Minato quickly figured that out about him. It was gratifying, being able to release control for a little while, giving it to someone else who he knew wouldn’t really hurt him.
“It’s okay,” sighs Minato, “I guess your coworkers come before me.”
This mean streak in Minato made Souji swoon, anyway.
Souji’s hard enough to grip himself through his pants, relief flooding his body for a brief moment before he’s scrambling for an apology. “They don’t, Mina, I—” he can’t help but let a noise slip because he’s practically leaking straight through the fabric and he’s barely touched himself, “Wanna touch you so bad, let me help you from here. Let me?”
Minato’s smiling again, and Souji can only imagine how wicked it is on his pretty face. But it means he’s doing something right, so Souji takes that in stride. “Tell me what you’re doing, puppy.”
Even through his intoxication, Minato’s picked up on what he’s doing. Souji isn’t so far gone that he doesn’t recognize the amusement in his voice, either, so he answers truthfully. “Touching through my–my pants, just a little. I’ve been hard since that first photo you sent.”
“Show me,” he requests.
Souji’s mind is slow but not slow enough to recognize a command when it's given. He undoes the button and zipper to his pants with uneven breaths, pulling himself out into the chilly air of the bathroom. He’s hot in his own hand, though, and already leaking a mess all over himself. It’s an embarrassing and pathetic sight but still, Souji pulls his phone from his ear for a moment to snap a photo and send it to Minato.
He’s never done anything like this and knows his camera work isn’t anything like Minato’s, but the man on the other end still sucks in a breath at the sight of him.
“Fuck, you’re drooling.” He laughs, light and breathy and Souji has to bite his lip from sobbing. He knows he looks like a dumb little mess. He can’t help it. “That looks painful, puppy. I’d help if I could.”
Souji allows himself to moan quietly, fingers squeezing himself at the base. If Minato were here, everything would be perfect. He’d know exactly where to touch and how to make Souji come undone. Minato would fit so perfectly between his legs or on his lap, and his hands would feel so soft around his cock, so slicked up by his pre-cum that they’d just slide over his skin.
He doesn’t even realize he’s panting until Minato asks, “Are you pretending it’s me?”
It’s such a soft question Souji nearly misses it. As if he’s surprised Souji is doing such a thing when this is all he’s ever done ever since he’s known Minato.
“Ye-Yeah,” Souji manages to say, nodding along with his answer, “yeah, I— want you really bad, Mina, I can’t— oh —”
“That’s okay,” Minato says, and his voice is a lot huskier now, almost gravelly and it makes Souji shudder, “Keep going. What would I do? What would you want me to do?”
Thinking of it is already making the room spin, but having to say it outloud? Souji could cry. He almost does, feels tears bead at his eyelashes, blurring his vision until has to blink them away to focus. Minato is asking something so simple of him. He can’t possibly mess this up, too.
He takes himself in his hand again, starting from the base to the tip. “I would… want you to go slow,” Souji says, trying to imitate what Minato’s done with him in the past, “Like you always do. And then you’d touch me here—” his sentence cuts off into a whimper and Minato curses under his breath.
“Be more specific, puppy.”
“At the tip. The slit.” His cockhead is flushed an angry red, frustrated with Souji’s weak imitation. Of course he’d never come close to Minato’s touch. But playing pretend is the best option right now, unless he wanted to stumble through the izakaya with a hard-on.
The thought of anyone besides Minato seeing him in this state brings more tears to his eyes. His voice is thick as he continues to talk through his fantasy, “I’d want you to use your tongue, just a little—”
“You want my mouth on you?” asks Minato, accompanied by wet, sticky sounds and oh, he’s touching himself, too, isn’t he? Playing with himself like Souji is, maybe fingering himself while the toy vibrates in his other hole, plugged on both ends. “Want me to suck you off? Take it down my throat?”
It’s too many questions for Souji’s mind handle. He’s so stupid in this state that he can only nod and whine, moving his wrist like he’s seen Minato do before. His other hand grips his phone tight against his ear.
Minato pants against it on the other end. ““Or would you wanna cum on my face?” Souji’s hip buck at the question. Would Minato really let him? “You’re already making such a mess. You could—” a choked moan breaks out of his throat and Souji swears he sees stars behind his eyes, drinking up the sound like he drank back that shot of sake, “Would you? For me, puppy?”
He’s asking, no, requesting that Souji do it. His hand begins to shake from the pleasure of it all. All at once he’s drunk again and it’s purely because of Minato.
“Just for you,” he says, knowing it comes out as a slurred jumble but dammit, he’s trying for him, anything for him, “Just for you, Mina, want to so bad, if you would let me.”
Minato curses again, a lot louder this time. Souji recognizes him to do that when he’s really feeling good, when Souji’s done something so wonderful with his tongue or his hands or his dick that Minato could think of no other way to let him know just how good he was feeling.
“Mina,” Souji swallows thickly, “How are you touching yourself?”
He needs something. More than the sounds, more than his imagination. He wants to hear Minato tell him, and he knows he’s asking a lot, but he can't help but be selfish. Minato makes him want to be selfish.
It’s a moment before Minato manages to speak. His voice is just as wrecked as Souji’s. “I’m on my knees,” he describes, somehow still managing to smile through it all, like he’s amused by his dumb, curious puppy, “Just how you like me. The dildo is in my ass and,” his voice is muffled for a moment by what Souji could only imagine to be the sheets, “fuck, I’m about to… with my fingers, I’m three fingers in, so close—”
Souji conjures up an image of him on his knees, ass up and face down, working his fingers in and out of himself furiously. He’d be dripping, making just as much of a mess as Souji is making, all over the sheets instead of on Souji’s face and Souji groans . He should be under him, lapping at his cunt like water, doing everything and anything he could to make him cum on his tongue.
The sounds that bounce off the walls of the cramped bathroom are lewd. Were anyone to walk in, they would know exactly what Souji is getting up to. It should make him burn with shame and it does, but it also excites him, and he knows it excites Minato just as much. That’s probably one of the reasons he sent those dirty pictures to begin with, to get Souji right where he wanted him: alone and under his control, even if he weren’t physically there. He didn’t have to be. Souji was too well-behaved, well-trained to even think about disappointing Minato.
“Souji,” Minato is moaning now, right into his ear, “Souji, I— Are you—?”
“Yes,” is all he can manage to reply, so in love with the fact that despite everything, Minato is asking about his pleasure, even in this headspace, “Yes, yes yes yes—”
He doesn’t finish his sentence, as simple as it was. Souji’s overtaken by pleasure and his vision blanks for a wonderful few moments, glitter bursting behind his eyelids as his back arches and his hand stutters. Something hot and wet spills onto his hands, onto his shirt and god, that’s going to leave a stain, isn’t it?
Souji realizes, afterwards, when he’s catching his breath and slowly coming back to himself, that he’s only added to the existing mess. His cheeks are sticky with dried tear tracks and his face still burns hot with the aftermath of his high.
It’s a slow crawl to return to his mind. Minato isn’t there to ground him with touches and words, but he’s still there, talking to him on the phone.
“Seta,” he says, pulling him back to reality with his surname. That sly little tone of voice is gone, too. “You alright? A bathroom isn’t the most comfortable place to fall asleep in.”
He’s a little more clear-headed, but the buzz from the alcohol is kicking in his veins. It’s a little harder to pull himself together again, especially without someone there to help him. Still, Souji takes Minato’s voice in, registers where he is, who he’s with, what he’s doing, and just how gross and sticky his hand feels.
He blinks slowly. Takes a few breaths. The bathroom light above him is yellow and low, making it almost as intimate as the restaurant is outside.
“I’m here,” Souji murmurs, bringing his phone a little closer to his ear and mouth. He’s surprised he hadn’t dropped it in the midst of his orgasm. Or any time before that. He sighs, reclining against the toilet a bit more. “I’m here.”
“You okay?”
“I’m okay.” Souji grimaces down at his hand and shirt. He reaches for the toilet paper roll to his left. “Sticky and kind of sweaty. But okay.”
Minato hums. Souji knows he’s just as exhausted as he is. Pleasantly exhausted, but drained nonetheless. He didn’t have Souji’s arms to curl up in, either. Souji frowns at the thought. “Not okay enough to get home on your own, though. Right?”
Home. That’s right, he still had to get home. The hands read 12:14 am on his watch. His coworkers were probably still entertaining drinking contests. Having to stick around and stay awake— and sober— was incredibly unappealing to him at that moment. Especially when he was sporting a new stain on his shirt that was in a suspicious spot. “Well… I could catch a taxi. Or get a ride from one of my coworkers.”
Minato exhales, humming some more as he does so. Then, Souji hears the same rustling of fabric as he heard earlier. He was moving around on his bed, maybe sitting up. “Send me the address. I can pick you up.”
Souji’s heart swells. All of him seems to light up like a Christmas tree, before he remembers Minato can’t see him beaming. “Really? You’d do that?”
There’s laughter on the other line, but Souji doesn’t care if it’s towards him. Minato’s laughter is a warm, rare sound. Souji loves being the cause of it. Even when he’s a drunken mess on the toilet of an izakaya bathroom, he can still make Minato laugh like this.
“I guess I just really like you,” says Minato, “and I love seeing you.”
Oh . If Souji had a tail, he’d be wagging it.
He barely remembers saying any of that, but Minato remembers clearly. He wonders what else Minato remembers. The fact that Minato remembers anything Souji says to begin with makes him want to scoop him up and kiss him until he’s sick of it.
“I’ll see you soon, yeah?” Minato says.
“Mm-hm.” Souji smiles down at his own lap. “See you soon, Minato.”
He sends over the address and stands from the toilet with a new ache in his back. He really needed to wash his hands.