10:25 p.m.
The flickering above seems to illuminate brilliantly across steel and over peaceful faces that hold no name or recognition within this time frame of nothing more but wanting to get home/anywhere but here. Monochromatic Tokyo just beyond the glass ceil and tipping beneath the horizon of red district lights and neon pop bill boards that hold no meaning beyond the commercial appeal of mass consumers. It feels like this city is stuck inside of a plastic bubble while its massive inhabitants dwell in large drones and become packed inside of living spaces just big enough for a body of sardines.
Abrupt break in movement to tell him that the bullet train had docked into the next station and it was just late enough for all the salary men to go home and the next generation of suburbia to riot within the streets or hit up the next best club. Body seeming to move automatically with the crowd until breaking off just a few blocks from the station and within ear’s shot of the low level club---he was saying fuck it to routine and buying a one way ticket to late night inhibitions.
Beetle black shoes making a distinct shuffle until stopping short of a dimly lit bar and resting idly on top of the silver bar just beneath his stool as he set the briefcase aside all in the name of using free hands to take a cigarette from inner coat pocket and the lighter from his side. Nothing but the mandatory question of what kind of drink Kiyoharu’ particularly wanted until order was resting smugly against the palm and he was transitioning between kissing the end of a blunt cigarette or intoxicating himself with whiskey. Crowd around him bustling against the lulling rhythm of vibrating beats like a social riot or writhing zombies before one or two broke away in search of drink or the occasional nameless drink to some fine piece of ass that seemed to have hovered near the bar.
He’d stood out amongst the sequent tops, body glitter and host club fashion but his current fashion taste stood a few notches above/beyond the business word fashion of stuffy tailored coats or the frequented comb over with accompanied tie. Black blazer a contrast against the white cotton pull over and black button down vest that had gone hand in hand with the fitted black slacks and ever present silver belt. Adornment of layered necklaces an after thought that had been kept well hidden beneath the knitted black scarf he’d thrown on after exiting the twenty story office building. If it had been up to him he would have taken a different approach to the office cubicle dress attire but he hadn’t exactly been the boss in charge so he’d humbly deal with the CEO position.
“What‘s an Oji-san like you doing here at the club?”
“Drinking beer unlike someone who looks like they should be getting shit from school or hanging around in Harajuku on the bridge.”
Fake smile to match the way he was politely making two second conversations before disregarding the sad transition of Tokyo’s youth that had been thriving on hard plastic and boundless opportunities of dead end jobs. Come back and talk to me when you’re not just another nameless face from some third rate band that’s been playing the underground scene for five fucking years with nothing but a dream and a chip on your shoulder.
“So you want to buy me a drink?”
It was cute the way you were pulling my leg and not leaving me the fuck alone.
“How bout the moment you grow tits and don‘t have a dick hanging from between your legs.”
Bar tender looking over the moment the kid started waving and pointing towards his spot besides Kiyoharu. “Club special, he‘s paying.”
Didn’t have the time to react before neon drink was pushed across the slightly slicked surface and stopped just before the kid who was using him as a free ride for drinks and unwanted sexual harassment. Silver rings knocking gently against the glass that had been nestled between his fingers and within his palm as he stared silently at the opposite occupant. Lighting casting just enough light to reflect off the piercing within the other male’s ear and the protrusion of metal looped in and out of flesh just above his brow in contemporary display. Red sleeveless tee with the strewn on tie and low riding denim jeans enough to tell him he was nothing more than the frequenting punk he would have found hanging around the nearest music club. The tattoo not much to grab attention considering the permanent ink marked a few spots on his own body but on a different perspective it may have been appealing.
“You going to give me the name of the person I was so politely ‘paying‘ drinks for?”
“Kyo.”
So it had a name.
“Want to sleep with me?”
Eyes tore away from their spot on the crystal glass, whiskey shifting when the ice seemed to melt and he was left staring into a rather expressionless face that had seemed to come closer than he remembered a few minutes prior. He was half expecting the smile to smudge across the kid’s features and him to laugh at the jesting question however the minutes passed by without so much as a word save for the gurgled conversation and pulsing beats. Kiyoharu didn’t need this.
Feet planted firmly against the level ground beneath him as he paid the rest of his fee and left without so much as a word because he wasn’t going to stick around to hear the rest of some unwanted conversation that dealt with unwanted teenagers. Night life Tokyo seeming to have slowly bustled down as he swept past the crowd, brief case in his hand while the opposite seemed to have hailed the nearest taxi before he had caught wind of the kid. Bastard not knowing when to give up a flat out rejection but he couldn’t help turning his attention the moment fingers locked around his wrist and he was forced to stare downwards at the connection. Just give it up.
“Why the fuck are you following me?”
“I‘ve been following you for a while and I finally had the chance to stop you personally, I‘ve been wanting to talk to you for weeks.”
“Great I‘ve got a stalker.” He tried pulling his wrist away before walking against the stream of bustling bodies and just as he was within reach of a cab he had been caught again. “Look just leave me the fuck alone and…”
Mind nearly at a stand still the moment fingers were hooked behind his neck and he felt the distinct pressure of lips against his---mingled taste of whiskey and liquor on the tongue with just the trace evidence of foreign cigarettes. Taste an evident contrast to the hard tasting Marlboros he’d smoked on a daily basis. Lips gradually slipping from his own as they pulled away and he still felt the padding of fingers brushing against the nape of his neck, scratching a his hair and forcing him to look at the shorter male.
Didn’t know what the fuck he was doing or if it had been the taste of cigarettes and alcohol that was causing him to act on sheer impulse but it had taken less than five minutes to get a taxi home and three more to shove Kyo against the door as he fumbled with his keys.
At the end of the night all I want is the taste of you on my tongue and that head resting against my pillow.
![[info]](http://l-stat.livejournal.com/img/userinfo.gif){kind=small}
aliensex_fiend) wrote,
sleepy
