Archive of Our Own

Giyuu Tomioka has a problem. A problem shaped like a white haired asshole with purple eyes and strong hands that could wring his neck as if it were putty. Specifically, his issue is the lack of said white haired asshole.

Giyuu doesn’t get out much. Not that he wants to, but he’s aware that he’s a bit more of a recluse than other people his age. To be fair, he is a college student. So him closed up in his room for days on end staring at a laptop screen isn’t necessarily out of the ordinary, though his friends would argue with that. When he does go out it’s either at the whim of his friends or to take a walk to the grocery store for fresh air and more food. Occasionally, he’ll head to his favorite boba place just to do more studying, ultimately buying an overpriced drink and doing irreparable damage to his back account.

Because of his antisocial tendencies, his only friends are two people he met in high school– Sabito and Shinobu. They’re much more inclined to be social than he is, which means their group chat is filled with requests asking him to go places with them he’d never go to otherwise. But, he unfortunately does love his friends, and allows them to drag him wherever they like.

This leads to one night a month ago, where he found himself standing in a stranger’s house, drink in hand, while music blasted into his ears and bodies moved like waves around him. A bit of nausea boiled in his stomach, especially with Sabito and Shinobu nowhere to be found. Which is why he went wandering off to find the bathroom. Moving through the crowds of people inside the house was difficult, but not impossible. After about a minute of muttering apologies to the people around him, a fairly empty hallway was in sight. Alight with joy at his findings, his brain turned off as he darted straight for sweet release from bodies against bodies.

And, of course, he was suddenly crashing into something very hard. This very hard thing? The chest of maybe the angriest man Giyuu has ever had the misfortune of smacking into. White hair, purple eyes, and a deeply rooted anger that could be felt through his gaze alone. A few buttons on his shirt were open, revealing how big his chest is, and the thin cloth of his sleeves were squeezing the fuck out of his biceps. The stranger turned his whole body towards him, looming over Giyuu despite their small height difference, leaving the raven haired man honestly sort of scared. His eyes raked over his body, and annoyance was present in the way he glared down at him.

“Watch where you’re going, dumbass.”

With that, the stranger was gone, disappearing into the sea of bodies and leaving his sight altogether. Giyuu stood there for a moment, catching his breath, before wordlessly heading down the hall and into the bathroom. Shutting the door, he locks it, before setting his drink on the counter and staring at the marbled patterns of stone. Gripping the edges of the counter, Giyuu looks up, finding his reflection in the mirror, face flushed. Why the fuck was he so turned on right now?

That was when the downfall began.

Being obsessed with a man who probably doesn’t even remember he exists is some loser shit that would definitely happen to him. He’s not even surprised. And if he were to be obsessed with anyone, it really shouldn’t be someone that looks and acts like he’s going to tear your head from your shoulders with his teeth.

Two weeks later Giyuu is walking into his favorite boba shop, backpack on and wallet in hand. Another purchase won’t completely break the bank. And anyways, he’s accidentally trained himself to only be able to finish an essay if he has a sweet drink. So really, this is an investment to his education.

Nowhere on his radar is the stranger from the party. In fact, he’s almost entirely forgotten about the man. Until his eyes land on wide shoulders and a head of white hair. It’s unmistakeable, even if Giyuu can’t see his face. He’s wearing a similar shirt, with sleeves that are tight around his biceps. Is that the only thing he wears?

Whatever, not important. What’s important is that this man is in his boba shop, which means he might live close by. Perhaps if Giyuu frequents the shop even more often, he’ll see the man more often, and then maybe he’ll actually be able to talk to him. Oh god, he thinks, I’m being a fucking loser again.

One thing to note is that this particular boba shop is fairly small, with countless students that come to study in the comfy lounge tables and couches pushed against the walls. Which leaves little room to form a line and wait to order. So Giyuu stands awkwardly near the entrance, behind two young girls giggling to themselves over something on their phones. He’s out of the way as much as he can be, but he’s still in a weird spot.

Giyuu watches the stranger turn from the pickup counter, drink in hand, talking to the man by his side. A black haired guy with heterochromia and a striped sweater. He also looks mean. They walk towards where Giyuu stands, likely heading for the main door. Giyuu’s heart races as they grow closer, and he wonders if the guy will say anything or look at him. Even if he did, would he remember him? Probably not, he thinks.

And Giyuu has given them enough room to get by, he definitely has. That doesn’t stop the guy from shoulder checking him again. Immediately purple eyes are finding him, and for a moment Giyuu is convinced the stranger is going to keep walking. But recognition flashes in his gaze, and it has him stopping in his tracks just beside him. A beat of silence passes, and Giyuu does something he doesn’t usually do. He speaks.

“You should probably watch where you’re going,” Giyuu simply states, voice monotonous and unwavering. He peers up at the stranger, holding eye contact, watching as the other man's face contorts into a mix of confusion and anger. Beside him, his friend looks the same.

“Dipshit,” the stranger mutters after another beat of silence, and turns, heading out the door. A bell rings as they leave, and Giyuu momentarily watches their retreating figures down the street.

Holy shit, Giyuu is chanting in his head, I want that man to fucking ruin me until–

When Giyuu turns back around, he finds two gazes staring up at him. The two girls before him in line who have seemed to witness the whole interaction. Suddenly, he remembers he’s in public, and tucks his unholy thoughts into the back of his mind.

⌁

Even before he realized he was gay, Giyuu had an idea of what guys to stay away from and which ones to run towards. This guy? There’s alarms ringing in his head, yelling at him to avoid, avoid, avoid. Too bad for his survival instincts, Giyuu is horny and has a tendency to make bad decisions regarding his love (and sex) life.

So there Giyuu is, once again, at a party that he normally would’ve skipped, hoping for god knows what to happen. What would he do if he saw the guy? Definitely not strut over and talk to him. And there’s no way in hell the guy would decide to strike up a conversation with him given how he probably feels about him. So what, is he just going to stare at him all night? That’s also some loser shit.

Giyuu grips his cup as he stands against the wall, drowning out the conversation that Sabito and Shinobu are having beside him.

“Shinobu! Sabito!” an unfamiliar voice calls out, high pitched and bright. When Giyuu looks up, there’s a girl with long, pink and green hair bouncing over, waving excitedly at them.

“Mitsuri,” Sabito smiles, and now Giyuu can put a name to her face. She giggles, stopping right next to them.

“How great to see you guys! Some of us are hanging out in Tengen’s room, you three should join!”

Faintly, Giyuu recognizes Tengen as the name of the guy who owns the house. He’s also heard something about him being sort of rich and flashy, which is why he’s always throwing parties.

Without any argument, Giyuu follows the three up the stairs next to the hallway into the second floor of the house. It’s quieter up here, less people, and Giyuu is glad for it. They make their way past closed doors until Mitsuri is opening one at the end of the hall.

Giyuu’s heart drops when he looks inside. Immediately, there’s purple eyes finding his own, a scowl being sent his way. The white haired stranger is here, sitting on the bed situated in the corner of the room, talking to a man with long, black hair that sits in a desk chair near him. Giyuu recognizes this as the friend from the boba shop.

Inside are a few other people as well. A man with fiery hair who’s sitting on the floor, legs sprawled out as he passes a blunt to another man. This guy is in a bean bag chair, adorned with jewelry and a jacket that looks more expensive than Giyuu’s whole life savings. He takes it that this is Tengen. Tengen is the first to speak up.

“Sabito and Shinobu! Good to see you! Ah, and who’s this?”

“Giyuu,” Giyuu introduces, glancing at the white haired stranger. There’s an expression on his face he can’t quite read.

“Nice to meet you, Giyuu!” the fiery haired man says, “I’m Kyojuro! This is Tengen, Obanai, and Sanemi.”

Sanemi, huh? Giyuu likes his name.

Sabito says something to Kyojuro, something about a class Giyuu has never taken. Sabito takes a seat on the floor next to him. Shinobu comments on a gemstone fixed into Tengen’s headband, and she finds a spot leaning against the wall next to him. Mitsuri bounces over to Obanai, finding a seat in his lap, throwing her arms around his neck. So they must be dating. That leaves him, still standing awkwardly near the door, no one to talk to. His eyes flicker back over to Sanemi, who’s still looking at him.

Well, like previously mentioned, Giyuu has a tendency to make bad decisions.

Giyuu walks over to the bed, filling the empty spot next to Sanemi. Sanemi is scowling at him still, eyes stretching over his body, sizing him up. Silence befalls the two, and Giyuu feels like he should say something.

“Still running into people?”

Sanemi tsks, rolling his eyes.

“Sure have an attitude, don’t you?”

“You’re the one getting angry after you bump into people,” Giyuu mumbles, and Sanemi’s scowl deepens. He opens his mouth to say something, but Mitsuri beats him to it.
“Giyuu!” she calls from Obanai’s lap, who’s still glaring at him, “your hair is so pretty, do you put a lot of care into it?”

A small smile reaches his face at the compliment, and he rakes a hand through his curls.

“Not really, it just sort of dries like this.”

Mitsuri’s jaw is now agape, and she’s hopping off Obanai to get a closer look. Bringing a hand up, she twists a strand of hair between her fingers, gasping. Obanai looks murderous now. Giyuu wonders if he’ll make it out of this house alive tonight.

“Do you ever braid it?”

Giyuu shakes his head.

“Can I?!”

Giyuu nods, and Mitsuri clambers up onto the bed behind him, fingers carding through his hair. Her fingers are gentle, dividing his hair into sections and crossing them over one another. Her fingernails scrape his scalp gently, sending tingles down his spine. No one really plays with his hair like this, and he finds that he’s sorely missing out. Mitsuri makes small talk as she works, bringing more of a smile to Giyuu's face with her brightness. He tunes out the death stares he’s receiving from the two men on his right, opting to enjoy his interaction with a new friend instead.

When she’s finished, she ties the braid off with a hair tie clinging to her wrist, and she giggles sweetly as she looks at her work from the front.

“Oh my gosh Giyuu! You need to braid your hair more often!”

Reaching behind his head, Giyuu runs his fingers along the plait, appreciating the skill.

“Thank you, Mitsuri.”

She beams at this, before climbing back into Obanai’s lap. A blush appears on his face as she leans down to his ear and whispers something. All at once his attention is divided elsewhere. Giyuu turns to find Sanemi, who is still fucking staring at him.

“You’re staring,” Giyuu states simply, because what else is he supposed to say, “what? Do you like the braid?”

Bringing the braid to rest on his shoulder, Giyuu watches as various emotions whirl past Sanemi’s eyes until it lands on annoyance. Looking away, the white haired man mutters something under his breath that Giyuu doesn’t catch.

“Hm?” Giyuu hums, and he is fully aware that he’s probably making this guy hate him even more. Oh well, you win some and you lose some.

“Shut the fuck up,” he simply says, leaning back until his back is pressed against the wall behind him. Giyuu decides that he should probably leave him alone.

Distantly, there’s a conversation happening about nostalgia and high school. Turning his head, Giyuu finds his friends, as well as Tengen and Kyojuro, digging up silly stories from high school, most being stupid shit they did as teenagers.

“We used to play all sorts of drinking games,” Kyojuro recalls, tapping his chin, “mostly beer pong.”

Mitsuri seems to overhear the conversation as well, spinning around to add something about her being amazing at beer pong and sad that she hasn’t played it in awhile. Drinking games became the topic for the next twenty minutes, where Giyuu sat quietly and listened to everyone else. If he didn’t get out much now, he was a recluse in high school. His first party was a college one when he was a freshman. He hadn’t even tasted a drop of liquor until his second year, where he accidentally drank too much and promptly blacked out. So he just listens, not having really anything to add.

“Oh, what about seven minutes in heaven?” Mitsuri asks, “my friends loved playing that.”

Obanai frowns, “I only played that shit in middle school.”

Shinobu shakes her head, “I hated that game, it was so embarrassing.”

Tengen perks up, reaching for one of the empty beer bottles beside him.

“What if we played again, for old times sake?”

Despite most people’s negative feelings on the game, there didn’t seem to be any objection. Besides Sanemi’s quiet grumbling about how this is “dumb and immature.”

Giyuu just follows everyone else in making a circle on the floor, finding himself once again next to Sanemi. Their knees bump together as they sit down, and Giyuu’s face warms at the contact.

These sorts of games seem like they were made for people who were distinctly not like Giyuu. He’s seen movies and read books with situations like these, and never in his life did he imagine he’d be here, sitting in a circle and staring at a bottle being set in front of him. In his head, games like these are for hot and confident individuals, not introverted, awkward boys that don’t know how to talk to other people. A part of him hopes that he won't get a turn, another part hopes that he gets stuck in there with Sanemi.

Tengen situates the bottle in the middle of the circle, eyes scanning everyone in the room.

“Who’s going first?”

“Oh! Me!” Mitsuri quickly answers, reaching for the bottle. Her fingers grip the glass, and she spins it quite fast. Squeezing her eyes closed, she crosses her fingers, refusing to look as the bottle slows. When she opens, she finds it pointing at Obanai, and squeals happily. Without hesitation, she springs up, grabbing her boyfriend's arm and dragging him over to the closet. Even after the door has been shut, there’s muffled giggling heard behind the door.

“Like Obanai would let her go in there with anyone else,” Tengen snorts.

“You’re going to have to drag them out of there, y’know,” Sabito comments, and Tengen waves his hand with a smile.

“Sanemi can pull them out. Apparently one of his bandmates has a habit of getting himself stuck in bathroom stalls with girls right before they perform. Sanemi’s the one in charge of yanking him out of there.”

“Oh, you’re in a band?” Giyuu inquires. Sanemi nods, crossing his arms.

“I play bass,” he explains, and Giyuu’s eyes sparkle.

“That’s really cool,” he smiles, containing his less than pg thoughts, and Sanemi blinks at him, “do you perform often?”

“Yeah, every other weekend pretty much, wherever we can get a venue.”

An idea wiggles its way into Giyuu’s mind. “I should come to a show.”

Sanemi eyes him for a moment.

“We’re playing at the bar down the street next Friday.”

It’s Giyuu’s turn to nod, and he flashes him another soft smile. “I’ll be there.”

Seven minutes later, Tengen’s timer goes off and he promptly knocks on the closet door. A few seconds later, Mitsuri and Obanai are stumbling out. Mitsuri’s face is beet red, and Obanai has a few new darkened marks on his neck. Kyojuro laughs. Mitsuri and Obanai return to their spots, Mitsuri fanning her face with her hands to cool herself down.

All eyes turn towards Giyuu, whose heart drops. They’re going clockwise? When did they decide that? With shaky hands, he reaches for the bottle. Hesitantly, he spins it, anxiety peaking. It’ll be fine, he tells himself. Even if it’s Sanemi. It’ll probably be awkward as fuck and they’ll just sit there in silence for seven full minutes. And that’s the best case scenario. Worst case scenario Sanemi wrings his neck for being annoying and then– well, maybe that’s not the worst.

The bottle begins to slow, pulling Giyuu from his worries. Slowly, the mouth of the bottle drags against the carpet, ultimately landing on… fuck.

Sanemi scowls at the bottle pointing at him. Giyuu’s heart pounds against his chest. Mitsuri is giggling beside them, and Shinobu and Sabito are giving him creepy smiles. They know he’s gay, but they don’t know all the thoughts he’s been having about Sanemi– right?

“Get in there you two!” Tengen calls when neither of them move. Sanemi is the first to rise, and Giyuu soon afterwards. Sanemi disappears into the large closet, and Giyuu slowly enters in after him, watching the room close off from the two of them as he slides the door closed.

Giyuu settles against a wall, drawing his knees to his chest in comfort. It does little to still his beating heart. Sanemi leans against another wall, legs sprawled out in front of him, calf brushing against Giyuu’s foot. Despite how dark it is, a bit of light seeps in from beneath the door, enough to illuminate Sanemi’s figure next to him. Giyuu hopes that this means Sanemi cannot see the rising blush on his cheeks.

For about thirty full seconds it’s quiet, and Giyuu understands that he’s wasting this very golden opportunity to be bold and go for the very thing he’s been thinking about since they ran into each other for the first time. Except why would he go for a guy that’s been glaring at him all night? Maybe he’s a masochist.

“Why do you want to come to one of my shows?”

“Would you believe me if I said it’s because I like live music?”

Even in the dark, Giyuu notices the grin adorning Sanemi’s face.

“No.”

Giyuu shrugs, attempting to paint a picture of perfect nonchalance. Maybe if he acts like he doesn’t actually care that much, then the rejection will sting less.

“You’re interesting.”

“I’m interesting?” He sounds amused, like he’s never heard someone tell him that before. 

“Yes.”

Sanemi looks at Giyuu. His eyes flicker across his face and his lips are still quirked up into a smile. A smile that has Giyuu’s insides stirring uncomfortably. It feels like Sanemi can see right through him.

“I find it hard to believe it’s because I’m interesting.”

Giyuu takes a breath.

“I want to go to your show so that I can see you again.”

“I can’t imagine why you’d want to see me again.”

Rolling his eyes, Giyuu crosses his arms.

“Asshole,” he mutters, and Sanemi laughs.

Silence fills the closet again. Giyuu’s eyes find Sanemi’s. His fingers twitch where they rest along his arms, wanting to reach out and just close the distance already. Sanemi’s looking at him all smug, like he’s the one in control here. It’s kind of pissing Giyuu off.

So Giyuu pushes himself off the wall. With movement more swift than he expected, Giyuu throws a leg over Sanemi, sitting fully in his lap. Bringing hands up to rest on Sanemi’s shoulders, Giyuu stares down at him, excited at the surprise in the other man’s eyes. Hands find his waist– big and strong and lightly squeezing his skin. 

Giyuu dips down, pressing their lips together. Sanemi’s lips are soft, and he tastes a little like alcohol but also like mint. His tongue slides into his mouth, hot and heavy and perfect. Giyuu’s fingers grip at Sanemi’s shirt, and Sanemi’s fingers tangle in his hair, messing up the braid Mitsuri gave him earlier. He doesn’t really find it in him to care right now. The fingers in Giyuu’s hair tighten their grip, and Sanemi gives a gentle, experimental tug. A whine falls from Giyuu’s lips. Sanemi’s mouth curves into a wicked smile. Leaning forward, Sanemi hovers over Giyuu’s lips, still gripping his hair so that the other man can’t close the gap. Giyuu can feel Sanemi’s breath on his lips, it’s a tease.

“Come to my show Friday,” Sanemi mumbles, eyes glancing down at Giyuu’s lips, “I’ll come find you after I perform.”

Giyuu nods, and there’s heat boiling between his legs.

“I’ll take you back to my apartment afterwards,” Sanemi continues, whispering now, “see if you make any other noises.”

Swallowing, Giyuu nods again, and Sanemi looks pleased. He leans forward, closing the distance, slotting his lips with Giyuu’s. It’s all tongue and touching after that. Sanemi’s hands wander wherever they can. Across his thighs, around his waist, up his shirt. His fingers grip at Giyuu’s skin, squeezing and caressing, making the other man whimper quietly into his mouth. Giyuu leans into the touches, arching his back to get closer to Sanemi, their chests touching. His hands find Sanemi’s hair, running through the locks and enjoying how soft the strands feel beneath his fingertips.

Seven minutes is too short. Giyuu wants hours with Sanemi mapping his body with his senses, making him feel worshiped and wanted. Curse Tengen’s timer for going off, and curse him for knocking on the door shortly after, yelling something at them.

Giyuu pulls back, blinking his eyes open. Sanemi looks up at him, cheeks flushed and mouth open, panting just slightly. Giyuu ingrains the picture into his memory. Reluctantly, Giyuu removes himself from Sanemi’s lap, the white haired man’s hand lingering at his waist until Giyuu is out of reach. Sanemi readjusts his shirt before pulling the closet door open, moving to leave the confined space.

Giyuu emerges after him, and the room is silent. Sabito and Shinobu are staring at him, wide-eyed, and Rengoku and Tengen look amused. Obanai and Mitsuri give each other a look. Tengen breaks out into laughter.

“You two had fun, didn’t you?”

Warmth creeps up Giyuu’s neck, settling on his cheeks. Sanemi throws himself back into his spot in the circle, promptly telling Tengen to “shut the hell up.” Giyuu sits himself down as well, his friend’s eyes following him. He knows the car ride home is going to be an interrogation.

“Shinobu, I think you’re next.”

Shinobu shakes her head, bringing her drink to her lips. “I don’t want to go in there after whatever those two were doing.”

⌁

Sanemi’s band is playing at a bar.

After the events of the night at the party, Sanemi handed Giyuu his phone, made him put his number in. The only text he got from the white haired man was a time and an address. An address to a building he stepped into about twenty minutes ago, wide eyed and curious. He’s never been here before. The bar that his friends frequent is on another street about a ten minute walk from here. Here, there’s dim lighting and decorations pinned to the walls. Some paintings, some flattened sculptures, some random posters for alcohol brands and indie bands he doesn’t recognize. There’s a lot of people here, too. Maybe too many. It’s pretty packed, and people keep bumping into him. 

It’s ten minutes to nine now, and the band that’s been controlling the stage is packing their stuff, dragging it into the back. They were good, Giyuu distantly thinks as he sips on the drink he bought himself. He hopes Sanemi’s band is good, too.

Just as the last guy lugs the rest of their equipment off, another group is replacing them. Giyuu notes the absence of white hair, watching what he assumes is the other members of the band begin setting their things up. He takes this as a signal that they’re starting soon, so he begins to weasel his way towards the front. He doesn’t get very far, ends up stuck in the middle of a stuffy crowd of people. Around him are girls yelling in their friends' ears, trying to communicate over all the noise in here. And random guys, drunk off their asses, swaying and holding onto each other, smelling like they’ve replaced their blood with alcohol.

In other words, it’s overstimulation central.

In the few minutes that pass, Giyuu grows continuously restless. People are caging him in on all sides, their skin sticking to his. He’s sweating, and can feel the people around him sweating, too. He just stares forward, sipping his drink quietly, hoping the show goes by quickly.

And then there’s a flash of white in his peripheral vision. Looking up, Giyuu spots him. Sanemi.

His hair is more tousled than the other times they’ve met, and he’s got on ripped black jeans with his signature half unbuttoned white shirt. A small smile sits on his face as he says something to one of his bandmates, a girl that’s stepping behind the drumset, with bright red hair and more facial piercings than he can count currently. He turns, reaches to grab the bass that someone propped up behind him. It’s a gorgeous, deep blue color. And despite its darkened color, it shines beneath the lights flooding the stage.

Sanemi’s eyes flicker over the crowd for a moment, before he focuses his attention on his instrument. Giyuu wonders if maybe, just maybe, Sanemi was looking for him in the crowd. But surely not, right? He must have other friends he invited, other people he’s looking forward to playing for. Giyuu is just a guy he’s going to hook up with, a guy he made out in a closet with for six minutes.

Ten minutes after nine is when the music starts. A count in from the drummer, disguised as a quick, little fill. And then the guitarist and the guy on the keyboard come in, mixing notes to create harmonies and dissonant chords that resonate within Giyuu’s chest. He can feel it in his skin, the music. Sanemi joins them a few measures later, laying out a simply structured bassline that pounds into his ears. The guy on guitar starts singing, and his voice is good. He has good stage presence, he’s smiling at the crowd and expertly tugging on the strings of his guitar. But Giyuu doesn’t look at him. He can’t, even if he wanted to. Because Sanemi looks otherworldly beneath the lights of the stage. His fingers move fast and swiftly, plucking at the strings and sliding up and down the neck of the bass. In his eyes are flashes of excitement, married to a growing smile on his face. When a particularly hard part in the music pops up, his lips press into a line. And it’s cute how his smile returns when he turns his autopilot back on and switches his eyes back to the audience.

The music is good. Really good. Good enough that Giyuu mentally reminds himself to ask Sanemi later if they upload their music anywhere. Without realizing, Giyuu has begun nodding his head with the bass drum, feeling the music bump around in his ribcage and flood his body. It’s all consuming, and suddenly the sticky bodies of strangers against him doesn’t feel as annoying as it did before. 

Giyuu wants to get closer. He finds his opportunity when a man in front of him leaves his spot to head to the bar. Giyuu quickly slithers up, squeezing between bodies. He gets far this time, carving out a path in the audience. And suddenly he’s so much closer, he can see Sanemi so much better. And this time, when Sanemi’s eyes scan the crowd, they find his own. Giyuu stares up into the purple irises, face flushed and head still nodding. The corners of Sanemi’s lips twitch up, widening his already large grin. Adrenaline pumps through his veins and excitement twitches in his fingers.

Giyuu loses track of time. It only felt like ten minutes he’d been standing here, packed in the audience like a sardine. But a quick glance at his phone as Sanemi’s band clears the stage tells him their set lasted about forty five minutes. He watches as they collect their things, stays in his spot as half the audience retreats to the bar for more drinks. He catches Sanemi’s eyes once more as the man throws the case holding his bass over his shoulder. White hair falls in front of his eyes as he nods his head to Giyuu’s right. Giyuu follows the direction, spotting a hallway at the other end of the building. He nods back at Sanemi before slithering back through the crowd of people towards his new destination.

The hallway is much less crowded, thank god. And it smells less like sweat and cigarettes. Leaving against the wall, Giyuu eyes the door labeled “backstage” and waits, stuffing his hands into his pockets. Despite how collected he may look, loitering in the hallway, there’s anxiety prickling up beneath his skin, making his stomach hurt. He’s excited, yeah, but now he has to actually face the man he’s been desperately pining over for however long since they first met.

Giyuu’s not a virgin, perhaps surprisingly. He’s had partners before, some lasting longer than others. So he’s not inexperienced. But Sanemi is different from his exes. He’s much meaner and outwardly confident, predisposed to conflict. Until now, Giyuu’s only ever attracted people pleasers and guys too scared to be a little mean to him in bed. Not that being gentle and loving is bad necessarily, but he’s been dreaming of more. More being the white haired man now stepping out of the door he’s been eyeing.

A smile sits on his face as he approaches, one hand gripping the strap on his instrument case. He stops just a few inches away and Giyuu’s heart stops for a moment.

“What did you think?”

“It was really good,” he responds, having trouble making eye contact at the moment. Because there’s sweat rolling down Sanemi’s chest, and the veins in his hand are more pronounced than usual, probably because of all the playing. His hair is all messy, his clothes look a bit disheveled, and Giyuu can’t form a normal thought.

“You looked really good,” he adds, pulling a laugh from Sanemi’s lips. Sanemi steps forward, closing some of the distance between them. “Yeah?” he asks, head tilted to the side. Giyuu nods, cheeks burning. Sanemi’s eyes drag down and then back up his body.

“You don’t look too bad yourself.”

Sanemi steps back, nodding his head towards the bar. “You ready?”

Giyuu nods again, wordlessly, and follows the other man out into the crowded area. He stays close, given that any second he could be washed away by the sea of people, torn away from the other man. Their shoulders bump as they walk.

“Do you not have any like– post show rituals?”

Sanemi hums, shoving his hands into his pockets. “We do. The band either stays at the bar and gets wasted or we go out to eat at some shitty twenty-four hour breakfast place.”

A frown tugs at the corners of Giyuu’s lips. “Am I dragging you away from that?”

Sanemi smiles, pulling a hand out of a pocket so that he can throw an arm around Giyuu’s shoulders. He pulls the other closer into him, lips brushing against the shell of his ear. Electricity shoots down his spine, his skin feeling tingly.

“This’ll be much better.”

More heat rushes to his face, more excitement builds under his skin and at his fingertips. He wants Sanemi, more than he thinks he’s ever wanted someone before. Sorry to his ex-boyfriends. But actually not sorry, most of them were shitty anyways.

Sanemi keeps his arm there as they walk out the doors and into the cool night air. The white haired man leads him down the street to where his car is parked– a beat up toyota camry probably older than the both of them. Sanemi steps away from him, rounds the car to stuff his bass in the back and takes a spot in the driver's seat. Giyuu plops down into the passenger seat, admiring how clean the inside is. It also smells nice– like vanilla. It helps calm his nerves.

⌁

Giyuu backs up towards the wall as Sanemi crowds him in. The bass Sanemi brought in is leaning against the wall behind them, already forgotten as fingers brush against his waist. For a moment they stay like that, Sanemi so close that Giyuu can feel the heat of his breath, eyes locked and hands slow where they grow more confident. 

Sanemi lifts a hand up, presses his fingers against Giyuu’s cheek. His fingers are warm, calloused but comfortable where they dig gently into his skin. A wicked smile appears on his face. Then Sanemi is leaning forward, pressing his lips to his own. Giyuu melts as a hand squeezes his hip, the other still caressing his face. The kiss isn’t soft for long though, it explodes into something heavier as Sanemi pushes him against the wall, caging him in from all angles.

Tongue gliding along his bottom lip, Sanemi presses deeper into him, pulling out another pathetic whimper like the ones in the closet. Giyuu’s lips part, giving him access, and then Sanemi’s tongue is everywhere all at once. Licking, pressing, and teasing.

The air is hot and heavy around them, and Giyuu is already uncomfortably hard in his pants. When he shifts his weight against the wall and Sanemi’s hips find his own, Giyuu reels in the feeling of rubbing himself up against Sanemi’s own bulge, already there, too. This gets a low growl from the other man, who pulls away rather disappointingly, leaving Giyuu panting as he rests his head back against the wall.

Removing himself from the tangle of limbs and hands, Sanemi nods his head towards the hallway. Giyuu pushes himself off the wall, moving to follow the other man.

Sanemi’s bedroom is what he expected it to be. It’s clean. Although a bit disorganized, with music posters pinned to the walls and sheet music scattered among every raised surface. His bed is made, but it looks as if the covers were thrown back into place with little care, and the pillow is off centered. It looks lived in. Giyuu likes it.

Sitting on the edge of the bed, Sanemi looks up at him, patting his thigh. Giyuu moves to straddle him, pressing his knees into the mattress. As if by instinct, his arms drape around the other man’s neck and Sanemi’s hands find his ass, squeezing gently.

“How far do you want to go?” Sanemi questions, voice softer than Giyuu’s ever heard it. And it’s just a simple question, asking for consent to ensure he won’t do anything he won’t like. But it does something to Giyuu– fans the flame in his abdomen that’s been growing brighter and hotter since he saw Sanemi on stage.

Fuck, Giyuu wants to go far. He wants Sanemi in his throat, wants his hands around his neck, fingers digging into his thighs, and wants the man to press him into the mattress and take, take, take, until he’s spent and Sanemi is satisfied. Giyuu’s cock throbs in his pants, and all this thinking is just riling him up even more.

“I don’t want to leave until you fuck me.”

Sanemi smiles.

“I can make that happen.”

And maybe Sanemi has something planned, something in mind for the night. But Giyuu can’t stop thinking about the man’s cock in his mouth, stretching out his throat. Before he can think, he’s detangling himself from Sanemi, sinking down to the floor onto his knees and placing his hands on the other man's thighs.

“Can I?”

Nodding, Sanemi watches him with dark eyes. A low hiss leaves his lips as Giyuu drags his hands up his thighs and grabs his zipper, taking no time in pulling down on the metal. Undoing the button, Giyuu grabs the hem of his jeans. With help from Sanemi, he pulls them down low enough to get a better view of the bulge in his underwear. Saliva pools in his mouth as Giyuu reaches for his underwear, releasing Sanemi’s cock. It springs up, pink and dripping already. Giyuu wraps his fingers around the shaft, keeping eye contact with Sanemi. He pumps once, twice, a third time before leaning forward, letting his breath ghost the tip.

“Fuck,” Sanemi mutters, jaw clenched. Then Giyuu takes him into his mouth, watches the way his eyes flutter shut and he throws his head back. Sanemi is thick, not the longest but he fills his mouth entirely and Giyuu fucking loves it. His nose touches Sanemi’s skin, and then he’s lifting his head up and bobbing it back down.

The pace he sets is slow at first, giving him time to enjoy what he’s doing and get used to the feeling. He also enjoys how much it seems to be fucking with the other man, who looks like his restraint is already worn thin and his hands are itching to grab his face and pull it down onto his cock.

Sanemi opens his eyes back up, finding Giyuu’s gaze. He brings a hand down, tangles it into his hair and puts the tiniest bit of pressure onto the back of his head, urging him to go faster. Giyuu listens, picks up the pace, and pulls a low growl from the other man.

“Yeah, fuck, just like that.”

There’s more pressure on the back of his head the longer he goes, and at one point Sanemi’s cock is slamming into the back of his throat with every bob of his head, the man’s hips meeting his every movement. Tears prickle at the corner of his eyes and his fingers grip tightly at Sanemi’s jeans, trying to ground himself.

“Tap my leg twice if you want me to cum down your throat.”

Giyuu’s eager in the way he taps Sanemi’s leg twice, earning himself an amused chuckle and a few unhidden moans. Sanemi’s cock twitches in his mouth, and his thrusts are becoming messy, more urgent. Giyuu stops moving his head, just lets the other man fuck his skull like he wants, happy to be a vessel for his pleasure.

In a few quick moments, Sanemi is grunting, eyes squeezing shut as he thrusts one more time into Giyuu’s mouth. Warmth shoots down his throat, floods his mouth and drips out past his lips. He takes a deep breath when Sanemi pulls his head off, swallowing the cum still in his mouth.

Before he can say anything, Sanemi is pulling him up and off the floor by the grip he still has on his hair. Giyuu lets himself be manhandled onto the bed, where Sanemi climbs over him after he sheds his bottom layers. Lips crash into his, Sanemi licking into his mouth with a new fervor that wasn’t there before. They only stop momentarily so Sanemi can slide his shirt off and throw it somewhere onto the floor. Then, there’s hands roaming his chest, fingers teasing his nipples and gripping his waist. Everywhere Sanemi touches there’s warmth blooming across his skin, making him feel all tingly and fuzzy.

Giyuu doesn’t process what's happening when Sanemi’s reaching for his pants until there’s a hand on his bare cock, thumb brushing across the head. Jolting, Giyuu moans into Sanemi’s mouth, thrusts his hips up into the touch.

“Sensitive, huh?” Sanemi snickers, pulling back to watch how Giyuu pants at the light touches on his cock. “Oh, you’re fucking perfect.”

The praise goes straight to his cock, which twitches in Sanemi’s hand pathetically. A whine leaves Giyuu’s lips when Sanemi brings his hand away. Sanemi laughs again as he strips off Giyuu’s bottoms.

“You’re all worked up,” Sanemi prods, one hand brushing against his thigh, the other nestling itself into the crook between his thigh and his abdomen. His thumb brushes against his hipbone, and he can’t help the way he shivers under the touch. “This is going to be fun.”

The words are sour, and they leave a pitt in Giyuu’s stomach. Hands drag up and down his thighs and his hips. Sanemi dips his head down to place a few light kisses to his legs. Giyuu squirms as teeth scrape against his inner thighs, his patience thinning the longer Sanemi skirts around where he wants to be touched. Purple bruises are sucked into the pale skin there, teeth assaulting the area before Sanemi’s tongue swipes over, soothing the sting. When Giyuu tries to move his hips, Sanemi’s hands keep him held down onto the mattress.

After minutes of what Giyuu would like to call pure torture, Sanemi reaches over to his bedside table, retrieving a bottle of lube and a few condoms. Opening the cap, he squeezes some of it on his fingers, massaging it to warm it up. Giyuu stares at the other man expectantly as he dips down, legs pushing his own out of the way. Then, a finger traces lightly around his hole, soft and slow.

“Sanemi,” Giyuu breathes, clutching the comforter, “please.”

His plea works, because suddenly there’s a finger gliding in, filling him up and he can’t help the satisfied groan that leaves his throat. Sanemi goes slow at first, pumps the first finger a few times before adding a second, keeping his eyes trained on Giyuu’s face. Giyuu grabs hold of Sanemi’s shoulder as the man dips down, smiling.

A third finger slips in, and the stretch of Sanemi’s fingers is decidedly much better than his own. He can’t stop panting, can’t stop whining every time the man brushes past his prostate. And when Sanemi curls his fingers, pressing up against the spongy spot, he’s squeezing his eyes closed and failing to stop the moans from spilling out. Fingers grip and tug at his hair, pulling Giyuu’s eyes back open. Sanemi’s still smiling at him, all cocky and confident.

“Y’know, Giyuu, you don’t talk very much. But when I’ve got my fingers in your ass all of a sudden you can’t shut the hell up.”

If Giyuu was a normal person and had shame, he might feel embarrassed. But Sanemi’s words and the combination of his fingers absolutely bullying his prostate have him gasping and his cock throbbing painfully. Reaching up, Giyuu grabs ahold of both of Sanemi’s shoulders and looks him dead in the eye.

“Imagine how I’d sound on your cock.”

Eyes widening, Sanemi’s mouth falls open silently. His pace doesn’t falter, but there’s a break in his well built cockiness, a flash of hunger fitting into his gaze. And that gets satisfaction rolling down his spine, mixing with the pleasure from the other man’s fingers. Giyuu might actually come just like this. Except Sanemi pulls his fingers out and reaches for the lube again. Pouring more on his fingers, he lathers it on his cock, refusing to break eye contact. Then, he rolls on a condom. A shudder runs through Giyuu’s body, matched with a low buzz beneath his skin.

“You’re a fucking siren,” Sanemi groans as he lines himself up, cockhead pressing against his hole. More pride blooms in his chest as he watches the way Sanemi’s eyebrows draw together while the tip nudges in, face scrunched in poorly contained lust.

“Fuck,” Giyuu whispers as he feels Sanemi ease in, cock pushing against his walls and opening him up wider. It’s everything he’s imagined– on his back, Sanemi over him with his cock ripping him open. The drag as he pushes in is so much better than he anticipated, the stretch fucking heavenly. The dildos sitting in his bedside drawer have nothing on this. All the sound and the thoughts still existing in Giyuu’s brain dissipate as soon as Sanemi’s hips are flush with his ass. Full is the only way he can describe the feeling– full and perfect. He’s right where he wants to be.

“Okay?” Sanemi asks, voice low and soft. It makes his heart flutter briefly in his chest. Giyuu nods, relaxing the hold he has on the other man’s shoulders.

“Move, please.”

And then Sanemi is pulling out slowly, producing a quiet groan from Giyuu’s throat. When he pushes back in, hips snapping forward, Giyuu’s eyes roll to the back of his head. A chuckle rings out around the room as Sanemi sets a slightly fast pace, Giyuu pressing his nails into skin to try and hold on.

“You’ve been thinking about this, haven’t you?”

Giyuu nods his head, babbles something that is lost to the sound of skin on skin and heavy breathing. Sanemi grins down at him, Giyuu catches it when he pries his eyes open.
“Fucking whore. Couldn’t stop thinking about my cock?”

A surge of pleasure rolls through his body from his dick at the words, and he nods again, faster this time.

“Wanted it since I first saw you.”

Sanemi’s thrusts speed up, and every one brings Giyuu a new wave of feeling and more whining. Sanemi’s smile looks self satisfied. Fingers dance up from where they were settled on his hip, all the way to one of his nipples. Two fingers take the bud in their hold, twisting, and the feeling has him gasping.

“God, you were fucking made for this,” Sanemi grunts, slamming his hips harder against his ass. The fingers leave his nipple after a quick pinch, trailing up farther until Sanemi’s hand is resting against his throat, fingers on either side of his neck. After a moment, he squeezes, and Giyuu’s mind shatters.

“Gonna–” Giyuu chokes out, rocking his hips to meet every hard thrust.

“Gonna come already?”

Giyuu can hear the smile and the teasing lilt in Sanemi’s voice. It just further pushes the heat building up in his abdomen, stoked by every drag of Sanemi’s cock. He nods, cursing as the fingers on his neck tighten, Sanemi’s body leaning forward to press against his own.

“Come on my cock,” Sanemi orders, and that’s all he needs to fall over the edge, white bliss exploding beneath his skin and spreading pleasure through his body. Sanemi fucks him through it, keeping a fast pace even after the overstimulation sets in and the only sounds Giyuu can make are whines of pain. But eventually Sanemi’s thrusts turn into a slow grind that stops after about a minute, his fingers letting up on where they’re constricting his throat.

Taking a deep breath, Giyuu blinks away the tears building in his eyes. Sanemi dips down, pressing his lips against Giyuu’s. It’s soft at first, the way Sanemu squeezes his thigh and gingerly slides his tongue into his mouth. But Giyuu can already feel the heat in his abdomen sparking up again, sending more blood to his dick. So he grabs the back of Sanemi’s head and nibbles on his bottom lip, whining into his mouth.

Curses slip from Sanemi’s mouth as Giyuu lifts his chest up, pressing their bodies together. Giyuu slides a hand down the other man’s torso until he finds Sanemi’s cock, hanging and still unbelievably hard. He gives it a squeeze.

“Want you to come in me,” Giyuu confesses as he pulls away, getting a wide smile from Sanemi.

“Yeah? Wanna feel me inside you?”

Giyuu nods. He places a hand on Sanemi’s chest and shoves him so that he’s falling onto the bed. Quickly, Giyuu lifts himself up and throws a leg over him, straddling him. Delight dances in Sanemi’s eyes, matching the darkness that glows when he takes in the sight of Giyuu on top of him, cock twitching and skin shiny.

Reaching down, Giyuu pulls the condom off, tossing it onto the bedside table. He gives Sanemi a few slow strokes, watching the anticipation burn in his eyes and his trembling fingers where they rest on his hips. Lifting up, he lines Sanemi up before slowly sinking down, catching the cockhead and sliding it in.

Sanemi groans from under him, fingers digging into his flesh and leaving more marks over the ones already etched into his skin. The burn of Sanemi’s fingernails and of the stretch make him feel alight with flame, the warmth under his skin exploding tenfold. When his ass is flush with Sanemi’s hips, he leans forward, placing one hand on the man’s chest and the other on his bicep.

A few shaky breaths and Giyuu is lifting himself back up and easing his way down. It’s deeper like this– Sanemi’s reaching where he can never get with his fingers. His cock nudges against his prostate, each press of it channeling stars to burst behind his eyelids. After a few more slow movements of his hips, he speeds up, adoring the slap of their skin when he drops down fully.

Sanemi’s hold on him tightens, his face scrunched up and lips parted around fast pants. He shifts his legs, planting his feet so that he can thrust up to meet Giyuu’s hips. Giyuu can’t help the noises coming from his throat or the way his nails are digging into the flesh of Sanemi’s bicep, probably close to making him bleed.

“Should’ve known you’d be a cumslut.”

Giyuu’s dick twitches, throbbing with every meeting of their bodies. Sanemi’s teeth are bared, a wide, excited grin staring up at Giyuu.

“Gonna fill you up,” he murmurs, “and you’re gonna take it, aren’t you?”

Giyuu nods pathetically, earning laughter and a faster thrusting of Sanemi’s hips.

“Filthy boy.”

Tears start forming again at the corners of Giyuu’s eyes, and his vision grows blurry. He can make out Sanemi’s face, but he can’t focus on what he’s seeing. All he can think of is every snap of Sanemi’s hips, every brush against his prostate, and every squeeze of his waist. It’s all beginning to feel like too much– the soreness of his legs, the fresh bruises on his skin, the build up of his next orgasm. Every nerve is screaming at him, making it so loud that he can’t even hear himself.

Giyuu’s body starts to go limp as Sanemi thrusts harder and harder, taking up most of the work. Now, Giyuu is practically frozen in air, only leaning back an inch to meet Sanemi. Distantly, he notices through his haze a hand cupping his face and a thumb wiping away a few stray tears that are rolling down his cheek.

“Sanemi,” Giyuu sobs, trying to make eye contact but almost missing Sanemi’s eyes altogether.

“Good boy,” Sanemi soothes, still caressing his face, “you’re almost there. Come for me one more time.”

And god does Giyuu do that. A few more thrusts and he’s spilling over the threshold again, heat rolling over his body and his muscles using the last of their energy to tense up. Just a moment later Giyuu hears Sanemi grunt low, and then there’s more warmth exploding inside him, making him feel impossibly more full.

Collapsing forward, Giyuu rests his forehead against Sanemi’s shoulder. Hands find his back, rubbing shapes there as they both catch their breath. Sweat and skin is the scent that fills Giyuu’s nose as he breathes, coming down from his high. Warm air tickles his bare skin, and the soreness of his muscles is beginning to become pronounced. His thighs ache, along with his arms and his back. But Sanemi is comfortable beneath him, his hands a nice soothing agent for his pain.

They stay like this for a few minutes, until Giyuu slowly peels himself off of Sanemi’s chest.

“How are you feeling?”

Giyuu gives him a dumb smile, before collapsing onto the bed beside him and stretching out his arms.

“Really good.”

An arm slides around his waist, lips press a quick kiss to his temple.

“Do you want to stay the night?”

“Only if I can use your shower.”

Sanemi grins. “We can use my shower.”