Chapter Text
Choso grumbles into his cup, taking a sip of the bitter drink he nurses in his grip. He surveys the club with little interest, the colored lights making him squint. He lets his eyes fall shut for a moment, the music sending vibrations through his body, before he’s elbowed in the shoulder, Yuki smiling cheekily down at him as she stands.
“You know, I wasn’t expecting that you’d fall asleep by the time I got back from the bathroom.”
He rolls his eyes, but it carries no real irritation, “I’m having the time of my life.”
“Aw…” Yuki coos, reaching down to pinch his cheek, dodging when he playfully swats at her, “I keep seeing hotties looking over at you. If you don’t want them, I’ll have to intervene~” She teases, watching him sputter.
“I don’t care.” He coughs out, glaring at her when she innocently pats his back.
“Yes, you do… when was the last time you even got laid?”
Choso raises his eyebrow and ignores her question, leaning back with an unimpressed look before she sighs and reclaims her seat on his left side. She bumps him softly, not one to give up, and points subtly to a man on the other side of the club.
“What about that blondie over there? I swear I passed him earlier, and trust me, he looks good.” She gushes.
Choso looks over in his direction, catching his gaze for only a moment, the deep brown almost as captivating as the dark liner that sharpened his eyes. The blond’s lip quirks up in an overconfident display, his dark, lacy button-up hugging his figure, silver watch with an equally as gaudy necklace around his pale neck–he looked like your typical playboy. For some reason, it sends a jolt of annoyance through Choso.
“No thanks.” He says, downing his drink and ordering another shot.
“What? Why?!”
“He looks like an asshole.”
“Well… yeah, he looks like he has a major attitude problem.” She says, “But who knows unless you try, c'mon Choso.”
Yuki looks at him with puppy dog eyes, and his heartstrings tug. The bartender slides his shot to him with a knowing look, making Choso frown at the clear glass, staring at it as if it would save him.
“I’m not interested in shitty rich boys with bad dye jobs, Yu.”
“Ouch. That wouldn’t be me, would it?” A voice purrs from close behind, making the dark-haired man jump in his seat. He turns quickly, schooling his expression, but he knows he’s been caught.
“This must be my cue.” Yuki winks at Choso, her voice a near whisper, leaving him to deal with the aftermath all alone. He clicks his tongue, watching her slip out of her seat and find something interesting elsewhere.
“Cute friend.” The man says with a low whistle, his sleazy smile quickly souring Choso’s mood.
‘Give it a try,’ his ass, the dude was a total womanizer.
The stranger reached over him, plucking the shot right out of his hand and downing it before Choso could even react, surprise settling into his features when he realized what the blond just did. His lip twitches with displeasure, and he spins in his chair, facing the offending man, but he’s cut off before he can even start.
“The name’s Naoya…” He starts, interrupting the complaint that he knew was building up. His eyes run over Choso’s body, and he leans forward, arms caging the other in. His gaze finally lifts, landing back on Choso’s face after ogling for a second too long. It makes him shiver with slight discomfort, but he doesn’t know if he hates it or not.
“You’re pretty.”
Choso gnaws on his cheek, his own stare wandering just a bit; Yuki was right, he almost lets out a disappointed sigh, the man next to him absolutely is his type, physically at least.
He ignores the compliment, annoyance threatening to spill over, “Choso, and that was mine, Naoya.”
Naoya groans as if it were Choso who snatched his drink. He’s way too close, his breath tickling Choso’s ear when their arms brush together, goosebumps fluttering across his skin.
“So?” Naoya presses closer, testing the limits, “Didn’t look like you wanted it that much.”
“Well, it seems to me like you just wanna be taught a lesson,” Choso mutters, bringing his hand up to press his palm flat against the man’s chest, the lace of Naoya’s shirt feeling silky as he pushes him back a little. He doesn’t stop touching, though, fingers sliding down to graze over Naoya’s waist.
“Oh?” Naoya snickers, “And how are you going to teach me a lesson?”
“You’re cocky.”
“I’m gifted.” The blond quips back, sneer never leaving his face.
Choso pushes Naoya back, firmer this time, the man stepping back with a glint in his eyes. Choso stands, rolling his neck before walking away without a word. He hears a small sound of surprise from the man behind him, and he can’t help but feel like he’s already won.
“Hey!” Naoya calls from his spot, and Choso looks back to appreciate the flustered look he’s sporting.
“Follow me, or don’t. You can drop the boujee act unless you think you’re too good for me.” He continues, sauntering in a carefully crafted act of nonchalance towards the club bathroom. Naoya scoffs, but Choso’s lip quirks when he hears the sound of footsteps following close behind.
Typical. The rich types are always the same way, but Choso would have to take him down a peg–it was well deserved after all.
He walks his way to the bathroom door, opening it with a creaking sound, not at all surprised when Naoya presses into his back, warm and inviting against his body. Choso grabs his wrist, pulling on it to lead the other into an unoccupied stall.
Naoya’s face flushes at the proximity; he has to look up a bit to catch Choso’s eye, and it pisses him off, hating how the man looks down at him, before he schools his expression again. Choso grins at him, his fingers playing with the hem of his shirt.
“What?” He asks, toying with him, and Naoya scowls, turning his face away, “You didn’t think you'd be fucking me, did you?”
“I don’t care.” He huffs, but he’s so obvious that Choso has no choice but to hold back his laugh. He brings his lips down to brush them against Naoya’s jaw, tongue poking out to lick a stripe down his throat.
Naoya’s breath hitches, and his own hands squeeze at Choso’s hips, “Don’t tease me,” he all but demands, and Choso gives him a look that says, ‘Don’t tell me what to do.’ It’s a silent battle of dominance, and it’s clear who’s winning when Naoya clicks his tongue in resignation.
“Whatever,” Naoya says, arm sliding up higher, and higher, until he has a comfortable grip on the back of Choso’s neck, pulling him close enough to bridge the gap, his lips slotting perfectly with Choso’s, letting out a pleased hum at the contact.
A flicker of pride thrums through Choso, and he kisses back, letting his tongue slip into the other’s mouth. The kiss tastes like alcohol, and Naoya is anything but gentle, nipping at Choso’s bottom lip with a pant. They go from a simple want to a burning need, passion building up when Noaya grinds against Choso, groaning at the friction, his bulge growing.
Choso’s body heats up, and he moans against Naoya’s roughness, pent up after being out of commission for so long. He hisses when Naoya nips at his tongue, tasting a familiar tinge of iron before he pulls back with a glare.
Naoya breathes heavily, sneering at him. “What are you, a big softie?”
His attempt at riling up the other doesn’t go unchecked, and Choso turns him around. Naoya yelps when Choso traps him between the stall door and his own sturdy body. He squirms around, but it’s a struggle, feeling dizzy at the realization that Choso is much stronger than he is. It makes him pant, his face stuck against the cold metal, and heat pools in his gut.
“Just shut up, you’re such a brat.” His own hardness presses against the blond’s ass, and the sensation makes Naoya suck in a breath, letting out a little ‘Ah’. It makes Choso jolt, jackpot.
“What was that?” Choso whispers, bucking against him, and Naoya’s ears go red. He opens his mouth, but nothing comes out, and he swallows audibly.
He wiggles against the pressure, arms trapped in the confined space, and in a slow realization, he notices that Choso has completely flipped the script on him, their positions almost mirroring how Naoya had Choso caged in at the bar.
He scowls, straining his neck back, “If you’re done showing off, touch me already.” He seethes, his impatience swelling. Choso scoffs, but his hand hovers over Naoya’s zipper, pausing only for a second.
“Is this okay?” He asks, and Naoya sighs in exasperation.
“Yes, perfectly fine, just hurry up.” He grunts out, attitude spiking, bending as much as the limited space allows for Choso to unzip his pants, letting out a sigh of relief when they’re pulled down to his knees, his briefs following suit.
Naoya makes a small noise when Choso runs his hand over his ass, massaging the flesh for a moment. He jerks back, the sudden softness throwing him off, and Choso digs his fingers into the plush muscle, making the other hiss in pain.
“So impatient,” Choso mumbles to himself before speaking up again, “I don’t have any lube-”
“Just use your spit,” He wheezes out, his voice pitching higher, “You don’t need to coddle me.”
Choso shrugs, but it’s mostly to himself, and he cups his hand, spitting a glob into his palm. He brings his fingers down to rub them over Naoya’s hole, and it twitches at the touch.
Naoya releases the breath he was holding, shivering as Choso drags his finger up and down, and he has to bite his lip to stop himself from making any more embarrassing sounds when Choso slowly pushes the digit in, grunting at the large finger stretching him open.
Naoya’s dick jerks against the cool metal, and he blinks hard at the pleasure that steadily grows within him. Choso continues to thrust in and out of him, and his vision blurs when the finger catches on his rim, his chest rising and falling rapidly.
“Shit- Give me another,” He moans, voice cracking, “I can take it.”
Choso presses his forehead into Naoya’s back, nodding against him before slipping a second finger in. That one causes Naoya to vibrate around the thick fingers that stretched him, bullying his hole open. The burn feels too good, the spit alleviating the pain just a bit, and he pushes back on the fingers. He wanted more; he needed it.
Choso’s fingers go deeper, and Naoya cries out when they hit his prostate. He shakes, unable to move; all he could do was sit there at Choso’s mercy. He mewls out, and it’s so embarrassing that he snaps his mouth shut, cursing his body for humiliating him like this.
“Found it.” Choso chuckles from behind him, and Naoya resists the urge to elbow him, skin flushed with a heavy blush. Choso is a strange one, taking him right out of his element, but he feels too good, body tight as the long fingers continue to piston against him in rapid thrusts.
Choso wasn’t weak, and his thrusts knocked Naoya forward, his cock rubbing against the wall, and he felt a familiar build-up, pleasure making him feel overwhelmingly wound up, aching for release.
“S-Slow down,” He stutters out, struggling against Choso’s grip, “I-I’m gonna…” He trails off, eyes falling closed as another moan is punched out of him. For a second, he thinks Choso might listen, but when he doesn’t, his eyes widen in realization, and he twists to give the other man a knowing look.
“What’s wrong, Naoya? You’re taking my fingers so well, don’t you think?” Choso sounds like he’s on the verge of breathlessness, and his fingers slam over and over into the same spot that makes Naoya’s voice die in his throat. The praise takes him aback, and he can feel himself lose control, body thrumming.
Naoya pants, sweat beading down his forehead as his back arches into Choso’s touch, thick fingers curling against his prostate, making him see stars.
“Ah- fuck!” He yelps out, dick throbbing, the pre-cum smearing where his body stays trapped against the stall door. His legs tremble, and in a flash of horror, he thinks he’s actually going to cum.
“Wait, Choso. Wait!” Naoya begs, but Choso smiles from his place behind the man, sinking his teeth into his shoulder and speeding up instead, the pain being the only grounding sensation as Naoya feels himself slip away.
“No.” He chuckles against the blond, denying him, the man quickly unraveling beneath him as he huffs at the pain, blood prickling where Choso’s mark was left.
All Naoya could do was let it happen, his body stuck between the cold door and Choso’s weight pressing from behind, his dick pulsing with an intensity that forces him to squeeze his eyes shut.
“Choso, please.” He whines, too high, too needy, and his face heats up. The music in the club was too loud; nobody else would hear it but the man leaning against him, and even then, that fact gave little solace to Naoya’s ego.
Choso presses a soft kiss to the back of his neck, clearly enjoying the show, slipping a third finger into Naoya’s hole, and the shorter man sees white.
“You’re so fucking embarrassing, Naoya,” Choso complains, and that was all it took for his dick to jump, cum spurting all over the front of his shirt, the thick ropes ruining his outfit and making a mess of the stall door. He presses against Choso harder, aching at the wide stretch, and his hole clenches around the digits. His movement is limited, but he still finds the energy to fuck himself back onto the fingers, letting the explosion of pleasure simmer as he rides it out.
"Ngh~ You, hah." His brain stutters, dick still bobbing as it leaks, and it's hard for him to form a coherent sentence.
“Fuck, fuck,” He babbles, the sudden orgasm knocking him off kilter, and his knees feel weak when Choso pulls his fingers out, the sudden emptiness making him see red. He buckles, and Choso catches him before he can sink lower. He turns in the taller man’s hold, shoving a finger into his chest.
“What. The hell. Was that?” He seethes, and if looks could kill, Choso was sure he’d already be dead.
“I just gave you what I thought you deserved, that’s all.”
Naoya gapes at him, half-naked and still reeling from the pleasure, “What about you?!” He exclaims, motioning down at Choso’s hard on, “What, just gonna jerk off later?”
Choso squints at him, his own finger coming up to poke roughly at Naoya, “Yes. That’s exactly what I’m going to do. Got a problem, rich boy?”
Naoya chews on his lip. He came, and Choso hardly even touched him, and now, what… he was just going to leave?!
“You prick, who do you think you’re playing with?”
“I’m the prick? All I see is an asshole with an ego problem. Maybe if you asked nicely, I’d consider giving you anything more than a couple of fingers.” Choso argued back, and he let go of Naoya, an unknown feeling simmering under his skin.
“Clean yourself off, you’re a mess, Naoya.”
Choso moves to open the stall door, ready to leave as quickly as possible, but Naoya squeezes his wrist, stopping him in his tracks. He’s looking down as if he’s willing himself to go against his very nature, and his voice is small when he speaks up.
“Just… give me your number.” He sighs, looking up into Choso’s deep brown eyes, surrender decorating his features, “Please?” He adds.
That was the last thing Choso expected, and he didn’t let the giddy feeling inside him be known to the other, just rolled his eyes, curiosity dancing in his gaze.
“See? It wasn’t that hard to be nice and polite, was it, Naoya?” For a moment, heated anger flickers across the blond’s expression, but he just grits his teeth and takes the teasing, holding out his hand. Choso gives him an unimpressed look, but passes his phone to the man anyway, both silent besides the sound of breathing and bumping music from outside.
When Naoya saves his number on Choso’s phone, sending a quick text to himself with the man’s name, Choso grabs it and turns, cracking the door open so he can slip out.
“I wasn’t lying, by the way. Clean yourself up, you look gross.” He says on the way out, and whatever Naoya replies falls on deaf ears. He adjusts himself before fully leaving the bathroom, still uncomfortably hard, but after what just happened, he decides that it was completely worth it to see the look on the other’s face.
He smiled to himself, something small and imperceptible to anyone who wasn’t close to him.
But man... Naoya really is a brat.