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Mika was not addicted to his phone. That he had notifications on the loudest setting was irrelevant, and the crack splitting his screen protector down the center was only due to his own incompetence. It wasn't that he had dozens of friends texting him, just that the one or two people he did text, he did so devotedly. Mika sometimes felt a little embarrassed when he opened his messages with Shu and was met with an entire day's worth of his own back-to-back texts. It was always quickly forgotten, though, abandoned in favor of excitement when he finally did receive a reply.
Could he really be blamed for his eagerness, being away from his partner for so long? Mika often cried on particularly lonely mornings, or when he had nightmares and woke to find the bed beside him woefully empty. It sometimes felt as though if he squinted he could almost see the outline of Shu's body, the sheets indented under his phantom weight. So sure, maybe Mika was addicted to his phone. He'd admit in a heartbeat that he was addicted to Shu, and this was the second best thing. His precious conduit.
But, lately, Mika had been especially vigilant, spending minutes on end just staring at the dark screen, awaiting a sign of life. He had always startled easily, but whenever sketching or studies were interrupted by a notification bell recently, he found himself practically jumping out of his seat. The reason for this was simple. Around two days ago, Mika had received a message from Shu.
Whatever he had expected upon opening the file attachment, it certainly wasn't cleavage and bedroom eyes. The selfie, if it could even be called that, featured Shu tugging open his collar with his free hand and grinning at the camera. There had been no accompanying message that would’ve potentially cleared things up; it was almost like the universe had been mocking him. It was too impossible to have been real; and yet, each time Mika had opened their messages, there it was in its full, offline-downloaded glory.
As Shu had still been in Paris at the time—and still was in Paris, now—Mika had absolutely no way of confronting him about whatever that photo had meant, and god knows that he was too terrified to bring it up during one of their nightly video calls. Without being able to directly observe Shu's body language, tone of voice, and facial expression, Mika didn't feel confident that he'd be able to properly interpret Shu's response, much less do any damage control were it to go sideways. Which, really, why would it? Shu was the one who had sent the photo. But it was so wildly uncharacteristic of him, it must have been a mistake…? Since he hadn't mentioned it himself, it was possible Shu didn't even know.
Mika's mind swam with anxiety and disastrous outcomes—this was, of course, why he didn't dare speak a word about it until he could see Shu face to face again. That was what he'd decided. But he'd underestimated how badly fucked his attention span would be between now and whenever that ended up being. Despite his efforts, all of Mika's thoughts eventually wandered back to that image. It didn't help that he had saved it. With ample guilt, certainly, but he needed some kind of tangible, enduring proof that he hadn't dreamt this entire thing up.
Which brought him back to his current predicament. Chewing on the cap of his pen and staring down at a sheet of homework with enough intensity to set it ablaze.
Not twenty minutes after Mika had finally chased the thought from his mind long enough to focus on his English assignment, his phone buzzed, and to his horror, Shu’s contact appeared on screen. With shaking hands, he opened their message log.
Oshi-san: Kagehira, I’ve attached a screenshot of my flight schedule for later this week. I apologize for the short notice, but family matters have come up and I must unfortunately pay Nii-sama a visit.
Oshi-san: I figured that if I am to be back in Japan, I may as well make use of my time there and spend some time consulting with you about matters related to your future and the future of Valkyrie. Please take a look at your convenience.
Oshi-san: I will not have time to call you today or tomorrow, I apologize. You are not obligated to meet me at the airport, but I already know that you will show up no matter what I tell you. That being said, I will see you Friday evening.
Thank god.
Oh, god.
Mika couldn’t decide which was more appropriate for this situation. On one hand, he was relieved to see that Shu was coming home (and delighted that he wanted to spend time with him), but the topics in question made Mika grimace. And the anxiety stemming from this ongoing “situation” of his wasn’t helping one bit.
—
Twelve hours.
Twelve hours of awkward tension, and Mika felt like he was about to go crazy.
There was no way Shu seriously didn’t know about this, right? Despite his obvious confusion when it came to Mika’s vague questions, despite the way he didn’t look any different than usual other than a general air of annoyance at his necessitated return, despite the fact that Mika had watched Shu go through their messages on his own phone to look for something and Mika had seen no trance of the damned image that plagued his mind and photo gallery.
There had to be something he was missing here.
—
Mika wiped the sweat off his brow as he leaned over the drafting table in the handicrafts dressing room and frowned at the subpar quality of his sketches. He sighed. He knew that the reason he was performing so poorly was because he was so distracted, but he had no idea what to do about it. Breaching the subject with Shu just seemed so impossible, especially when he was acting as though it had never happened.
Shu was supposed to meet him here soon, though, to go over entry guidelines for an exhibition Shu had identified as a good opportunity for them. Mika knew that if he didn’t get it together soon, he’d only be letting them both down; so for the sake of their artistic ventures, Mika was definitely going to confront Shu about this when he arrived. No take-backs!
There at the door stood Shu Itsuki, looking the same as usual, though wearing an expression significantly more relaxed and playful than his usual stern frown. Though Mika had been slowly getting used to seeing Shu smile more and gradually become softer, this sudden change in demeanor was about as likely as Shu tailoring a gown a size too small, confirming in Mika's mind that this could only be another man. That, or he would be waking up to a mess in his boxers pretty soon.
“Ah... it's so good to see you, doll. Pictures on a screen cannot possibly do you justice, you're far too ethereal for your essence to be captured in mere pixels.” The man used big words like Shu does, but the way in which he spoke them was almost reminiscent of how Shu used to speak of Nazuna. Mika knew that it was foolish to ever expect that kind of attention from Shu—because in the end, he was not Nazuna—but being addressed in such a way filled him with a terrible longing. One that he'd tried so hard to bury along with his resentment.
Oh, how Mika Kagehira yearned to be touched and loved and tended to—perhaps even moreso now that he'd voluntarily given up his role as a doll. Being maintained and pampered like a pretty object to be shown off and represent his master... that was a feeling Mika dearly missed, despite everything.
Mika had no good response to the man’s words save a meek shrug. The man closed the distance with a startling (though not unwelcome) lack of hesitation, cupping Mika’s face in his hands and leaning in to inspect him with a playful smile that almost made Mika’s skin crawl. Seeing such expressions on Shu’s face was beyond offputting, and Mika felt himself tensing as though expecting any moment for Shu to snap out of it and berate him for falling for such a thing and allowing himself to be touched so carelessly.
“O-oshi-san…?”
The man’s hand slid down Mika’s neck, grazing the soft downy hair behind his ear and at the base of his skull. Mika wasn’t used to having to quiet himself nowadays, as Shu had come to terms with (and occasionally even found endearing) his affinity for strange noises. In this situation, though, he couldn’t help but feel as though even an inhale too sharp would shatter the weird tension between them. As much as he wanted to melt into what were definitely Shu’s hands, the unfamiliar look in those lavender eyes kept him much too present in his body. His treacherous mouth just took a little extra effort to control. Mika processed verbally, after all.
Unfair! None of this made any sense!
“Nnghah… mm…” Mika whined, pouting. “Have… we met?”
“Oh? What an awfully loyal little doll, so observant. No, I don't believe we have. Not officially, anyway. Kenji Dennis Wabiru, at your service.”
Mika cocked his head.
“Though I'd prefer you be at mine.” The man added with a wink, and Mika felt himself growing uncomfortably red.
“K-ken-oji-san… n-nngah, Denn…?”
“Just ‘Wabiru’ is fine. ‘Sir’, if you're feeling as needy as you look.” Wabiru laughed. “Heavens, aren't you just the cutest little thing?”
Mika whined in confusion again. He had no idea what this person wanted, and that made him very afraid, but at the same time, he didn't seem as though he was interested in hurting Mika (or Shu, for that matter, thank god). It occurred to him belatedly that the name was a little familiar. Something Naru had mentioned about a Dramatica circle performance…? He wasn’t sure what that had to do with Shu, as it was a new development, but it was probably just a coincidence.
“W-wabiru-san… um… wha's goin' on…? Why're ya… oshi-san?”
“Why indeed. I haven't a clue myself, but I consider myself a man of opportunity, and this one is far too good to waste.” Wabiru purred and tugged on Mika's cheek with a smile and narrowed eyes, befitting of a cat toying with its prey. “Surely ‘oshi-san’ can find it in his heart to share… it would be a terrible shame were he to keep a poor grounded angel all to himself, oh no no no, he must be presented to all the world so they might bask in the light of such a gift from god!”
Mika was not smart, but he was familiar enough with Shu's vernacular and eccentricities to recognize that this man was talking about him. An angel… wasn't that a thought; Mika suspected he'd probably be a pretty bad angel—angels were supposed to have white wings, weren't they?
“Wabiru-san… did… didya need me to do somethin’...? I-I jus' don't really know ya, y’see….” Mika fidgeted with his hands, his voice weak and uncertain. “Not that I ain't wanna speak with ya or nothin'! A friend of oshi-san's a friend of mine, but… I jus’ don't really get what all's goin' on…?”
“Patience, little doll—settle. You need not work yourself into a fit. Though I don't doubt that any expression would look adorable on your face, I'll be frank in saying that I had certain intentions when I sought after you today.” Wabiru tilted his head with a smile.
Mika, looking reassured but still terribly confused, simply nodded.
“Uh, okay. What kinda intentions…? D'ya need me to model for ya? Or fetch ya somethin’?”
Wabiru laughed, and it was somehow both unsettling and alluring simultaneously. Mika looked embarrassed, but he didn't exactly hate the feeling.
“You know, part of me hopes that you really are just this stupid. Or perhaps “innocent” is a better word. Inspiring secular thoughts in an angel, ah, what an idea that is. To dig in and corrupt so entirely—and you'd allow it, yes?” Mika’s eyes followed Wabiru's wandering hands and stole quick, uneasy glances at the other man's smile. “What a silly question. Of course you would. You'd let me do whatever I wanted to you.” The way Wabiru said it made it sound like an irrefutable fact, and, humiliatingly, it was.
Mika was not as unsusceptible as he'd like to believe, especially not when it came to someone with Shu's face (downright smirking in a way that made Mika's heart flip), Shu's hands (on his cheeks, lips, neck, shoulders, chest—ah, his waist, now), Shu's perfectly amused laughter, and god strike him down where he stand if he could possibly resist when Wabiru leaned in to purr Mika's given name in a way that he had only ever dreamed of hearing in Shu's voice—and many, many times had he dreamed.
Heady shame washed over him, and he busied himself with staring at his shoes; Wabiru’s, only inches away. This was betrayal, right? Did Shu actually know this man? Was Mika a bad person for kind of maybe sort of enjoying the attention he was getting? How could—oh, Wabiru was tilting Mika up by the chin to bring them eye to eye.
“Is that a ‘yes’, angel?”
When did Mika's mouth get so dry? This was definitely betrayal, he decided, trying to piece together his thoughts despite the distracting heat blooming in his stomach. Shame on him, wretched creature, for succumbing so easily to the wiles of lust—is what Shu would surely say to him were he present. It was strange to not think of Shu as being “present”, considering his eyes were burning holes through Mika's soul and it was at his fingers that warmth sprung to life beneath Mika's skin. Wabiru was dangerous; a being of fire. Damned or divine, was the question.
“Was that… were you the one who sent that picture…?”
“I’m afraid I haven't a clue what you mean, Mika, darling. Don't tell me someone is bothering you?”
Yeah, it was definitely him.
“Um… n-no, never mind.”
“If you say so~♪ I fear you've occupied all my thoughts, so I don't have room left for worries, anyways.” Wabiru was starting to look the slightest bit impatient, and Mika was equally nervous and relieved to see a familiar and recognizable emotion that he could definitively associate with Shu. He didn't have much time to dwell on that, though, before Wabiru was closing the last few inches between them and dragging Mika into a kiss.
Mika had kissed Shu a few times before, but they were always tender, chaste little things—gentle in the way that a question is gentle, curious and weary, but wanting. This was nothing like those kisses. Wabiru stole Mika's mouth, mischief in every movement of his lips, and Mika felt a good deal like Peter Pan was dragging him out of his window and into the cold, open sky. He was startled, and staggeringly free.
To say that Shu was modest would be an understatement. Mika sometimes questioned whether or not Shu felt any kind of sexual attraction at all. He had no doubt in Shu's feelings for him, but he just couldn't picture ever being come onto by him besides maybe on one of the rare occasions that he was drunk in Mika's vicinity. Mika didn't really know what to make of it, but he did know that he held nothing but love and respect for Shu, and was happy to abide by every one of his unspoken rules. Mika was confident in his ability to read his partner, and he was nothing if not steadfast in his obedience.
But with Wabiru here, puppeteering Shu’s body in an undeniably ironic show of seduction, Mika could feel his grip on his self-made vows slipping. There was the churning pull of some unassuming low-head dam within him, tugging and coaxing Mika towards the innocent froth of the boil line. Just a little closer, it won't be so bad, and, oh, he's tumbling over the edge and into the drowning machine.
"There you are, there's a good boy.” Wabiru chuckled between kisses, stroking the back of Mika's head. Mika's legs shook with the sudden effort of holding himself up. He felt tears prick at his eyes simply from how embarrassingly overwhelmed he felt. The embrace of the rushing, proverbial water made him shiver. Merciless and unforgiving, as all forces of nature are. Maybe that's what Wabiru was. Some all-consuming natural disaster given human form.
Mika couldn't help but sink to his knees when Wabiru hauled him over to the dressing room’s loveseat. His lips were shiny with spit, and he found himself unable to think about anything except that it had been such a long time since he'd been kissed like this.
It wasn't like he wanted to be easy, per se, but he'd awoken to drool on his pillow and his mind reeling from the imaginary taste of Shu's precum on his tongue an embarrassing amount of times.
Oh god, what was he doing? Surely this must be some black magic, or a curse perhaps, cast by this devil inhabiting Shu's body. Surely he could blame something other than himself for the way he was kneeling between Wabiru's legs and resting his chin atop the other man's knee, while a doting hand ran through his messy hair. Mika whined. He was so totally fucked.
Before Mika had the chance to lean forward and sniff at the prize he was after, Wabiru tugged his head back gently by the hair to bring them eye to eye once more.
“Patience, doll.” That fucking name. “I know you're excited, but you must earn your reward.” Wabiru smiled, saintly. He patted his knee and gestured to Mika.
“Show me how eager you are.”
Mika stared at him blankly for a while, trying to figure out what the man wanted. Wabiru waited patiently, but after realizing that Mika was not going to catch on, he laughed a little and patted his own leg again, below the knee.
“You're on your knees like a little dog, sweetheart. Play the role.”
Oh.
Oh.
Mika tentatively positioned himself, straddling Wabiru's shoe and pressing his humiliatingly hard dick against the firm curve of the other man's shin. The absolute minimum had never felt better, and Mika had to bite his tongue to keep from immediately rutting forward, despite the fact that he was still trapped in the confines of his clothing. He truly was pathetic, he thought, but he had lost the capacity to care somewhere between now and when Wabiru had first kissed him.
Mika knew he was a crier, he always had been, but it was embarrassing how little it took to reduce him to tears. He was so overwhelmed, he just couldn't help it. Guilt and shame and confusion and anxiety and desire thrummed in his blood with every heartbeat, and a very familiar buzz of submission was rising and expanding to fill his head like a drop of paint in a bucket of water. He muffled his shaky moan into the fabric of Wabiru's pant leg as he rocked his hips forward experimentally. The friction was heavenly, and Mika wondered how it could still feel so good every time. It had been a while, though, since he'd felt anything but his own hand. Too long.
“Ah… ah… Wabiru-san…” Mika could barely register his own voice escaping in shuddering gasps. He always, always got like this; so needy and small. Normally Shu was there to handhold him through it but the idea of being so defenseless in the presence of this man was almost violently thrilling.
"Mm? What do you need, darling."
“W-wanna touch ya…” Mika pawed clumsily at the front of Wabiru's pants, still rocking against his leg and trying to fulfill whatever animal-in-heat role Wabiru was interested in seeing him play. Wabiru extended his leg a bit further.
“Poor thing… such a naughty dog, humping me like this. Though I suppose you can't help it. Your cruel master keeps his prized stud to himself, doesn't he? It's no wonder you're fit to burst. How long have you held in these desires of yours, Mika?” The use of his first name had Mika keening and filling his mouth with the end of Wabiru's long coat in a pathetic attempt to spare himself some dignity.
“L-long time… s-so long…” Mika sniffled and tried to quicken his pace, but Wabiru stopped him with a light tug to his hair.
Mika looked confused for a moment, before his attention was quickly stolen by Wabiru's hand undoing the buttons of his pants. Mika watched, enraptured, his own hands twitching with the urge to touch. God did he miss the spongey warmth of cock in his mouth, leaking on his tongue and fucking into his throat. He wasn't proud of his “experience” so to speak, but it meant oh-so-very-little in the face of finally getting another opportunity to get his mouth stuffed. Yeah, he definitely sounded like a slut. Oh well.
"Someone looks excited.” Wabiru laughed and tugged on one of Mika's stray cowlicks. “Care to demonstrate exactly what that pretty little mouth of yours is capable of?”
Oh did he.
Mika immediately went in for the kill, fumbling with the zipper of Wabiru's pants and wasting no time in freeing the other man's dick. Mika was incredibly satisfied with the state Wabiru was in (because of him).
With only a moment more of hesitation, and a quick prayer to Shu to forgive him, he leaned in to nuzzle Wabiru's cock with his nose, rubbing his cheek up against it and almost purring in anticipation at the warmth. His senses were flooded with the heady scent of sweat and precum and the kind of masculinity that Shu would never in a million years dare to show him. It was intoxicating. Mika wouldn't deny that he loved the smell of another man, as disgusted as Shu would be at the knowledge. He felt another twinge of guilt knowing that he was partaking in something Shu wouldn't normally allow him to do. But it was so, so good that Mika didn't have much in the way of argument against himself at the moment. He was too overwhelmed with scent and heat and taste.
He pulled back to lap at the head, savoring the bead of pre that smeared against his tongue. Wabiru hissed in appreciation, and his fingers curled in Mika's mop of messy black hair. Mika glanced up at him through his eyelashes and gave him a long, slow lick from base to head. His eyelids fluttered at the strong taste. He moved to lave his tongue over the slit to coax out more salty fluid. He was probably a weirdo for that. Only porn actors actually enjoyed the taste of cum, but Mika had never been a regular boy in any aspect of his life. C'est la vie, as Shu would say. Probably. If he didn't say Mon dieu Kagehira what the fuck are you doing you revolting creature! Unhand me this instant! first—which was also, unfortunately, hot. He sometimes wondered what would happen if he didn't listen to Shu in one of these little fantasies, but even the thought felt like blasphemy and thus he never allowed himself to wander down that particular path (no matter his inclinations).
“You look so content down there, suckling like a little kitten. How precious.” Wabiru smiled, his voice having lost its higher registers somewhere in the past few minutes. Mika shivered, and tucked a strand of hair behind his ear to go down on his prize and hopefully impress the beautiful man looming above him.
“Mm, just like that.” Wabiru sighed and patted Mika's head in approval, giving it a gentle push to feel Mika take more of him into his mouth almost effortlessly.
Mika sometimes got the sneaking suspicion that maybe he was built for sex, as he'd occasionally been told. As much as he didn't want to give any credence to the degrading thought, he couldn't deny that the oral fixation he'd had since childhood in combination with his piss-poor gag reflex didn't really inspire confidence in the opposite.
Mika chased away the looming thoughts by nestling Wabiru's cock in his mouth until the tip brushed against the back of his throat. Taking in a deep, wet breath through his nose, Mika slid down gradually, body jerking as his throat was finally, finally stuffed full. As patron saint of freak masochists, Mika couldn't deny the light-headed excitement that voluntarily blocking his airway gave him—and, god, don't get him started on if he wasn't given a choice.
Fortunately, as if reading his mind, Wabiru took the breaching of Mika's throat as an invitation to take the reins, and took Mika's cheeks in his hands. He smiled down at him, making eye contact, and Mika could tell that the other man was thoroughly enjoying his enthusiasm. He drew his thumb against Mika’s cheek and down the curve of his jaw, admiring his perfect skin and ruddy complexion. Mika twitched in Wabiru's grip, his throat spasming angrily and his heartbeat growing irregular as he was drawn back only to be forced down once again—over and over. Mika moaned brokenly. He delighted in this kind of treatment. Suffering it at Shu's beautiful hands was a dream come true. And betrayal, though, he reminded himself—but there was time for self-loathing later.
Mika relaxed his throat as best he could to accommodate the sudden violence, and at the very least stopped gagging for the most part. It had admittedly been a while since he had done this, in his defense. His eyes were glossy with pleasure and a sticky mess of precum and saliva rolled steadily down his chin and neck, seeping into the collar of his shirt. Tears escaped the corners of his eyes and his body shook happily with the welcome effort of receiving.
Just as quickly as he was thrown into the self-indulgently blasé rhythm, it was suddenly torn away. Wabiru held him back by the hair, admiring the sight of Mika's reddened lips and spit-slick face. Mika looked like a puppy recognizing a word but unable to figure out exactly what it meant, eyes wide and questioning. He heaved in wet, ragged gasps for air as his abused esophagus was given reprieve.
It took Mika a few moments of blankly watching Wabiru fuck his fist for him to realize what was happening. Heat washed over him and his stomach twisted itself in knots. He scrambled to right himself, obediently on his knees as Wabiru rose to his feet, hand still petting Mika's hair in soothing motions. Mika looked up doeishly, letting his mouth hang open and his tongue poke out.
“Oh? What a good boy, Mika ♪ Now, I'd love to think that you're still as pure as driven snow, but I find it hard to believe that the maidenly Shu Itsuki has gone so far as to touch you beyond a kiss or two. Would I be right?” Wabiru pumped himself lazily, overwhelmingly close to the point that Mika can feel the heat radiating off his shaft.
Mika nodded shakily, both embarrassed and eager to jump to Shu's defense.
“Begs the question, then—of just who had you trained so excellently.” Wabiru smirked, winking at Mika's uncomfortable expression. “But I'll allow you to keep your secrets, angel. My imagination will do just fine.”
Mika flushed a deep red, tilting his chin up and closing his eyes as if to urge Wabiru along.
Wabiru clicked his tongue.
“So impatient. Well, you'll have what you desire, then. Open up, sweetheart.” Mika eagerly opened his mouth in anticipation of his reward.
A few more wet strokes and Wabiru was painting Mika's face with opalescent ropes of cum, artfully streaked across his lips and the bridge of his nose and catching in the lashes of one eye. It dribbled down his skin viscously, and Mika whimpered as he felt another spurt hit his tongue. He shamelessly shut his mouth with a click and swallowed it down, following it with a gratuitous licking of his lips. Dramatic, sure, but not exaggerated. Mika tried not to dwell on what a total pervert he was. Blessedly, it was kind of hard to think about anything at all when he was distracted by the warmth of another man's cum on his face.
Mika opened his eyes dazedly, looking up at a very approving Wabiru hovering above him. The man wore a wide smirk and eyes that glittered with hunger and possession and satisfaction. Like he'd taught his dog a new trick. Minus the “new”, Mika supposed that wasn't far off from the truth.
“Perfect, gorgeous—ah, Mika, precious little doll, look at you… it's clear this is where you belong. So pliant and eager to please. Absolutely beautiful.”
Mika's eyes welled up with tears once more as overwhelming love washed over him. He knew logically that this was not Shu, but his heart ached and cried for it to be. More tears rose unbidden as he nodded.
“Th-thank ya, sir… ‘m s-so happy…”
“God you are perfect. I'm jealous.” Wabiru ruffled Mika's hair with a hum and an easy smile. “Darling little thing, heaven-sent, truly.” The affectionate words were beginning to make Mika's head hurt, and he was worried that he'd start crying in earnest.
Before he had a chance to weigh his options, though, he felt Wabiru curling strong arms around him and lifting Mika into his lap. Mika tensed up the tiniest bit, looking at Wabiru with wide-eyed confusion.
“Hush, angel. Let me touch you; I can't keep my hands off such a lovely creature any longer, lest I lose my mind.” Wabiru purred, a wandering hand sneaking below the hem of Mika's shirt and kneading at the newly-exposed flesh of his hip. Mika had little to no body fat to really hold onto, but the way Wabiru touched him made him feel sexy, and he was quickly growing addicted to it.
Mika squirmed and whined, pulling up his shirt further to allow Wabiru access to his chest and stomach. The man laughed at Mika's shamelessness, but obliged with those beautiful, eager, practiced hands. Shu's beautiful, eager, practiced hands. Two of those words Mika having never thought to attribute to them—at least, not in this context. A pinch from Wabiru had him mewling as the man's other hand tugged down Mika's waistband to give his aching cock room to breathe. It was humiliatingly wet, and still weeping fluid with every twitch, and Mika nearly sobbed with need as Wabiru's hand wrapped around his neglected member. Finally feeling skin-on-skin contact after what felt like an eternity of being denied was a relief beyond measure.
“Wa—Wabi—nnhgaah, nnah, a-ah, nngah…!?” Mika fisted his hands in the fabric of Wabiru's coat. With a twist of sudden coil of heat in his gut, he noted that Wabiru had tucked himself away, leaving his person looking as tidy and put-together as before, as though nothing had happened. Meanwhile, Mika was falling apart in his lap, making an absolute mess of himself and blubbering like an idiot. The juxtaposition was as staggering as it was miserably arousing. Mika felt pathetic—and it was so, so perfect.
Wabiru’s pace was teasing, as was everything about him—long, maddeningly slow strokes coupled with the way he squeezed Mika right below the head before sliding down again. The pressure was almost sickeningly good.
It took less than a minute for Mika to come undone, writhing as all of his muscles drew tight at once and his thighs trembled. Mika choked on a little sob, throwing his head back and forth with a squeal, before he came hard in Wabiru’s hands. Mika’s chest heaved with the effort of drawing in new breath, and he shivered when he met Wabiru’s eyes. Purple to the effect of magic and poison. Wabiru smiled down at him and Mika felt like a horse who’d been bet on, enjoying the spoils of a newly-rich man. Wabiru continued to stroke him lightly through the last moments of his orgasm, leaving Mika to whimper and twitch with oversensitivity, before he finally brought his dirtied hand to Mika’s lips.
Mika knew what was expected of him without needing to be told (he was a good boy, after all). He opened his mouth to allow Wabiru’s fingers inside, and began lapping them clean of his own release, being extra thorough to convey his gratitude. It was so strange to be in this situation that he had dreamt of so many times (the warmth of Wabiru’s drying cum on his face was suddenly twice as distracting as before) all while knowing that it wasn’t and couldn’t be real. It felt almost like a lucid dream, if lucid dreams had unknowable consequences and came with copious amounts of guilt and shame. He released Wabiru’s clean fingers from his mouth.
Mika’s body was a deadweight in Wabiru’s lap as he recovered, focusing only on his breathing to avoid having some kind of panic attack in the arms of the man he’d just fucked.
“Feel better, angel?” Wabiru’s voice was a low rumble, and comforting despite Mika’s current internal crisis.
“Mhm…”
Wabiru chuckled, and Mika felt himself being shifted off of Wabiru’s lap and onto the loveseat beside him. Wabiru took off his overcoat, the familiar, warm maroon that Shu loved so much, and draped it over Mika’s shivering form. He smiled, pleased with his handiwork.
“You’ve been divine, doll. I pray fate brings us together once more.” He pressed a kiss to Mika’s forehead, a condescending but adoring look flickering in his eyes. Mika shivered again, from more than exhaustion.
Mika barely registered when Wabiru had left, the dressing room door clicking shut behind him and leaving Mika huddled on the loveseat and looking every ounce as fucked out as he was (probably moreso). It took even longer for him to register that he was probably leaking onto Shu’s expensive overcoat, which was the thing that finally brought him back to reality.
He yelped and sprang up, pulling the coat off of himself and noting with a frown the small damp patch on the inside. He couldn’t help but wonder whether Wabiru’s teasing promise of “next time” would be a blessing or a curse. Knowing his luck, though…?
On second thought, maybe confronting Shu about this wasn’t the best idea.