Archive of Our Own

Chapter Text

Kazuya's head throbbed, the colorful lights of the bars and clubs in Kabukicho sending pinpricks all over his body. He rubbed his fingers over his tired eyes, his glasses fogged from the cold air. A rookie mistake really. Never let your eyes stray, especially when you're out with a potential investor. Not even for a second.

"Fuck," Kuramochi slurs beside him, tugging him by the crook of his arm. "Fuck, he's going inside!"

"What...what do you mean?" Kazuya stumbles, leaning against his co-worker's shoulders. "We've been to three fucking izakayas!"

"Come on," Kuramochi groans, tugging him forward. "We can't lose him like we did in the second bar!"

They shuffle their way into a large club, the haze in his mind too heavy to see the club's name properly. Kazuya sees their client slumped over the front desk, an annoyed looking woman in a jumpsuit staring at him.

Kazuya slides beside him, grabbing the drunkard by his shoulders and shooting the woman an apologetic look. "Sorry about that. He's had a little too much."

"Evidently," she drawls. "Normally I'd send you off for being too intoxicated, but sadly the good gentleman here managed to book a room with my associate."

Behind her, a red-haired woman squeaks. "I'm so sorry Wakana-senpai! I-he gave me his credit card and demanded a room, and I panicked!"

"I know Haruno, it's my fault for leaving you on such a busy night," Wakana sighs, turning back to him. "I'll be happy to cancel the order if you could call the bank, sir."

Kazuya cast a withering look at Amahisa and sighed. "Don't think he's going to sober up anytime soon."

"Let's just lay him in the room or something," Kuramochi sighs, leaning against the counter. He hiccups and Wakana wrinkles her nose at him. Kuramochi wilts. "Where is it anyway?"

"You need to choose a few of our hosts to accompany you,” Wakana gestures to Haruno, and she quickly passes a thin folder. She flips it open, and numerous faces of men of varying attractiveness stared back at them. Kuramochi groans, sliding the folder to him.

“Thinking hurts too much right now. You choose.”

Kazuya sighs, dragging his tired eyes over the open page. Without even looking, he points at someone. "Him then."

Wakana's eyes twitched. "I see you don't care much at all, sir."

"Evidently," Kazuya says dryly, slinging Amahisa's arm over his shoulders. The bald man groans, nuzzling into his neck. "Now will someone show us the damn room?"

"Y-yes!" Haruno rounds the counter, gesturing to the stairs next to her. "Allow me to guide you sirs!"

"Just to be sure," Wakana calls out just as they're halfway up the stairs. "You're fine with anyone right?"

"Do your worst," Kazuya shouts back.

If only he had taken a few steps down and glanced over the railing, he would've seen the devious look spreading across her face that he would eventually heavily associate with Wakana Aotsuki.

But for now, he follows Haruno to the room, wobbling ever so slightly at Amahisa's weight. Say what you will about Amahisa Kousei, but apparently, even when he's drunk out of his mind he picks the best of the best.

As Haruno sets up what must be the VIP room, he sets Amahisa down one of the large couches, grimacing when he immediately slumps over the couch. Kuramochi massages his head as he throws himself on the other end, groaning in pain.

Kazuya glances around the room, noting how clean and pristine it is. There's a lingering smell of perfume and hair product in the air, and Kazuya's fingers twitched for his pack of smoke. Not too long after Haruno left the room with a bow, a knock came on the door. Kazuya slowly walks to it, opening it with a sigh.

"Well well, Wakana wasn't kidding when she said you'd be less than enthusiastic."

Kazuya blinks, taken aback. "I-I'm sorry?"

The pink-haired man in front of him chuckles. He has a beige-colored three-piece suit on, perfectly fitted to his body. If it wasn't for his bright colored hair, he would fit right in Miyuki Steel's lobby. 

"Can I come in?"

"R-right." Kazuya stiffly moves aside. The host glances around the room, barely even blinking at Amahisa loudly snoring at the corner of the room, before he cast his eyes to Kuramochi.

His shoulders straightened as he made his way to Kuramochi's side. Kuramochi eyes him warily, sluggishly raising his hand. "You don't need to do anything, alright? We're just here to sober up."

"Is that right?" The pink-haired man questions. He falls back to the spot next to Kuramochi, smoothly tugging his tie loose and setting his crossed legs on top of the table with a bang. Kuramochi startles, looking at him in disbelief.

"Yes?" The host asks as he unbuttons his cuffs and rolls his sleeves up to his elbow.

"I-" Kuramochi breaks off, shaking his head. "Are you allowed to be this...uh...forward?”

“You told me I didn’t have to do anything right?” The man snorts, pushing back his hair. Now that Kazuya had a better look of him with the room’s light, the host looked completely exhausted. “I’m not wasting my time trying to lure straights into the dark side, or whatever it is you think I’ll do.”

“I-!” Kuramochi sputters. “I wasn’t-!”

The host waves him off with a flick of his wrist. "Save it. I'm not the one you should be worried about."

"What's that supposed to mean?" Kuramochi asks.

"I'm saying the final boss is yet to come," he smirks, tilting his head back. The motion reveals an expanse of pale skin and a lithe neck, and beside him Kuramochi gulps. Hoo boy. "But you're not interested in that are you? I'll be very quiet now don't you worry."

An awkward silence descended upon the room, and Kazuya retreated into his phone to distract himself. He's knee-deep into an email, struggling to write coherently when Kuramochi shifts in his seat.

"It's not like I'm looking down on your job or something!" Kuramochi mutters. "It's just...I've had a really long day, and now I have to babysit that asshole over there and be on my hands and knees for the other one."

"Hm."

Kazuya's mouth twitched, and he bit down on it to stifle the smile threatening to break free. Kuramochi's eyebrows furrowed at the host's nonchalance answer.

"Are you still mad?" He asks tentatively.

"Why would I be mad?” He smiles, cold and sharp. Kazuya flinches. “I’m here to do nothing after all.”

"I-" Kuramochi groans, tugging at his hair in frustration. "I'm sorry, okay! I take it back. Please, do whatever you want!"

"Whatever I want?" The host asks tone as light as air.

"Whatever you want." Kuramochi insists.

"Very kind of you," the host smirks. He sits up with an unprecedented pep in his movement and flips through the menu Haruno left in the room. "Surely we can't talk without a few drinks, hm? Juice okay?"

Kazuya sighs, and resigns himself to a night of being tangled up in a web of pretty little lies. Kuramochi's shoulders slump as the host chatters on, probably lamenting his thin and floppy wallet.

As they wait for their drinks to come, the host finally introduces himself as Ryosuke.

"Just Ryosuke?" Kuramochi insists.

"Ryo-kun, Ryo-chan, Ryo-tan," Ryosuke says, drawing a finger at each nickname. "You can call me anything you like."

"Ryo-san then."

Ryosuke stills. "Ryo-san eh? Didn't take you for the respectable type."

"Well, you're older than me aren't you?" Kuramochi mumbles, scratching his cheek. 

Ryosuke's lips twitch. "I guess I am."

Just as Kazuya pondered downloading a shitty mobile game just so he'd have something else to look at other than Kuramochi's weird chicken dance with the host, three firm knocks echoed from the door.

"Sawamura Eijun, requesting entry!" A peppy voice called out, muffled through the wood.

"Come in Sawamura," Ryosuke replies.

The door swings open, and Kazuya sees his back before he sees his face. A deep maroon shirt tucked neatly inside a dress pants. Sleeves rolled up to the elbow, highlighting strong tanned arms. Balancing a tray, Sawamura shuffles into the room.

It isn't until he kneels down next to the table to set the drinks down that he meets his eyes. Big brown eyes. A cute button nose. A strong jaw. Soft hair that framed his cheeks. And a glint of gold jewelry tucked in his ear.

Kazuya resisted the urge to whistle low under his breath. If all the hosts in this club looked like Ryosuke and Sawamura, Kazuya could see why Wakana would take offense at his nonchalant attitude. He shuddered to think of how much Amahisa spent on this room alone.

Sawamura meets his eyes and smiles at him. "Good evening!"

Kazuya, for lack of a better word, simply nods back at him.

"So Wakana ended up sending you huh?" Ryosuke muses. "She must really be pissed off."

Sawamura chuckles, standing up to set the tray to the side. He reveals a suit jacket hanging on the crook of his arm, and to Kazuya's surprise he drapes it over the slumbering Amahisa, giving him a few pats as the man mumbles and shifts. "She was a bit frazzled. But I don't mind hanging out with all of you before I clock off!"

"Hanging out?" Kazuya couldn't help but comment. "Is that what you call it?"

"Something wrong with that?" Sawamura asks, eyebrows furrowing.

"Nothing," Kazuya buckles down. "Nevermind."

"No, tell me," Sawamura insists, walking over and sitting next to him far too close. His thighs pressed against his as he leaned forward, and Kazuya instinctively moved away. He hits the end of the couch soon enough and inwardly groans as Sawamura crowds him.

"Tell me!" He insists. The worst part is that Sawamura's tone isn't angry or indignant. He has nothing but open curiosity written all over him. As if he doesn't understand why Kazuya would find it weird that he calls his job as hanging out like they're all friends in a high school reunion.

"I-" Kazuya grabs his shoulders and forcibly puts some space between them. Sawamura never looks away, fixing his eyes on him. "Look, I know how your job works alright? You keep your clients happy and drunk until they order everything off the menu, overpriced alcohol and all, and you whisper some sweet words so they'll come back again and ask for you."

"That's not my job!" Sawamura huffs, shaking his head rapidly. For a moment, he could even imagine two dog ears poking out of his head. A shiba inu would suit him. He rubs his eyes with a sigh. He must be even drunker than he thought.

"My job is to make sure everyone leaves here happy," Sawamura says passionately. He thumps a fist over his chest proudly. "If you're not smiling by the time you step out of our club, it's money-back guarantee!"

Oh?

"You don't say?" Kazuya smirks. 

"Ah, just a fair warning dear customer," Ryosuke slides in, leaving Kuramochi pouting and tugging at the sleeves of his shirt to get his attention. Clearly, someone missed the memo on the non-alcoholic juices. "Sawamura here isn't just any common host."

Sawamura grins nodding along. "You're looking at the number one host in this club, undefeated since my third year here!"

"Ah, but you're a host, not a comedian right?" Kazuya teases. "As long as I don't smile when I leave I get my-well, my future investor's money back, right? It would make for the perfect gift to seal the deal."

"You're on!" Sawamura grabs his hand and shakes it vigorously. "Prepare to laugh yourself hoarse uh-"

"Miyuki. Miyuki Kazuya."

"Miyuki Kazuya!" Sawamura repeats dutifully. 

"I have a rule though," Kazuya points at him. "You can only make me laugh on your own. No videos or funny pictures!"

"Boo!" Sawamura grumbles. "Fine. But you have to talk to me! Don't ignore me!"

Kazuya eyes his puffy cheeks and red face and quirks his lips. "I don't think anyone could possibly ignore you Sawamura."

-

"No way!" Sawamura gasps. "You played baseball in high school?!"

"Runner up in the summer tournament," Kazuya sighs in nostalgia as Sawamura shifts through the old photos in his phone. "We never did reach nationals though."

“Whoa,” Sawamura murmurs, pausing at one of the pictures where all the team huddled together for a picture. First string, second string, reserves, the managers, they even managed to get Coach Ochiai to join in for a picture. “Your team was so big!”

“Did you play baseball?” Kazuyas asks, though giddily he already has a perfect position in mind.

“I did!” Sawamura grins, huffing proudly. “I was a pitcher! A southpaw too.”

“Really? Were you any good?”

“I-” Sawamura’s face twists, and he slowly hands Kazuya’s phone back. “I got into trouble in the last match in my middle school. I-uh, sort of punched twelve people? Including the coaches…?”

“ What? ” Kazuya couldn’t help but burst out laughing. “You’re kidding!”

“Don’t laugh!” Sawamura pouts. "Well-you should. But not at me!”

“Sorry, sorry,” Kazuya covered his mouth sheepishly. “It’s just the image of you beating a whole team by yourself...anyway, why did you do it? You weren’t a sore loser, were you?”

“We were a really small team. The only ones in it were my childhood friends. Wakana was in it too! She was a great shortstop.”

“Wakana huh.”

“Yeah, they kept eyeing her weird, and everytime she missed the ball they mocked her and said something about women not belonging in baseball,” Sawamura mutters. “As we lined up to shake hands they said what a waste of time it was to play against us, and I just-snapped. Lining up is about paying respect to your opponents! The fact that he called all our efforts worthless-I just can’t take it lying down!”

“Did you get in trouble for it?”

“I…” Sawamura sighs. “I had a school that offered to sponsor me to play baseball in high school. I think it was a small school, but I was happy you know? I thought my baseball didn’t have to end in middle school.”

“Don’t tell me…”

“They found out about the fight and withdrew the offer,” Sawamura smiles wistfully. “I didn’t know if I would’ve left Nagano, but I did play for a few more years at my local highschool.”

“How did you end up working here then?”

“Me and Wakana were on a school trip to Tokyo to check out the local universities,” Sawamura rubs his nose with a little laugh. “I wasn’t planning to go, really. I didn’t have any dream jobs or grades good enough for it. And with my records, well, you know how it is.”

“Hm,” Kazuya hums. “Were you recruited from the streets or something?”

“What am I, a stray dog?!” Sawamura flushes.

“Well…”

“Anyway,” Sawamura barrels on. “On the trip we got to see a local high school play in the Meiji Jingu stadium. I couldn’t really remember what team they were, but I remember this team having the worst luck piled on top of them every inning they went through. A stray ball hit the ace pitcher straight across his jaw, and he had to leave the mound early. The relief pitcher was a first-year with a 160 km ball, but at the very end they had to swap him for another relief when his ball started to-well, become balls. In the decisive inning, on their last needed out, the center fielder missed the ball by a breath-and then it was all over.”

A stray ball? A first-year with a 160 ball? The missed catch by the center fielder? It couldn’t be, could it?

Kazuya stares at Sawamura in disbelief as he continues his story.

“Even after all that, with tears streaming down their faces, they propped each other up, patted their backs, shaking their heads at the injured players' apologies,” Sawamura sighs. “I guess I was sort of reminded of my own team. I wondered if anyone in my local baseball field, instead of pitying us or talked us down, ever looked at us in pride like the crowds in that stadium did. Standing applause, shouts of encouragement, you’ll get them next time.”

Kazuya bows his head, the bittersweet memory of his second year much too heavy for his muddled mind.

“I think I burst into tears at the end of it,” Sawamura says shyly. “I’ve been playing baseball too, but I was nowhere near how these guys were playing. I don’t think I’ve even cried over a loss before too. I realized how fun it was to watch baseball, and how much I missed it-so I decided I’d move to Tokyo when I graduated, where the most baseball games would be!”

“That’s it? You moved all the way from Nagano to watch baseball?” Kazuya asks quietly. “Because of my-that team?”

“Well it sounds lame when you say it like that,” Sawamura pouts. “But I don’t regret my decision at all! I love my job, I like working with Wakana, and I’m glad I moved to Tokyo! If I didn’t I wouldn’t have met you Miyuki Kazuya! Aren’t you lucky? Wahaha!”

Kazuya couldn’t help but smile exasperatedly at that. “I guess I am.”

For the rest of their booked time, Kazuya exchanged stories of his high school days with Sawamura, skirting around that game in his second year, while Sawamura shared anecdotes of his days in Nagano, stealing apples from his neighbor’s orchard, biking to his friend’s houses and kidnapping them for a nightly excursion at the mountains near his house, and overall being an absolute menace.

Eventually, their time ran out, and Haruno came to collect them. Kuramochi was sleepily being propped up by Ryosuke, who's apparently  sadistic yet calming voice was enough to make Kuramochi fall asleep in a foreign place. His words, not Kazuya's. Meanwhile, he's stuck with Amahisa, who at this point seems to be having the best sleep of his life.

Ryosuke walks out to stuff Kuramochi into the awaiting cab, which Kazuya nearly choked to order when he saw the bill. He could really use a little cash. Cash from say, winning a bet.

He turns to Sawamura as he stands on the threshold of the club's entrance, trying his best to put on an aloof expression as Amahisa dangles helplessly over him.

"Well then," Kazuya starts. "I guess this is it. You'll have to give me-well, his money back."

Sawamura smiles as he confidently steps closer to him. "Do I?"

"I'm not laughing am I?"

"No?" Sawamura murmurs, slowly settling his hand down on Kazuya's shoulders, sliding ever so slightly down to his arm, lower and lower until he slips past Kazuya's elbow, to a place Kazuya dreads the most. "Not even when I do this?"

"Wait Sawamura-!"

"Tickle tickle tickle!" Sawamura cackles, his lithe fingers dancing across Kazuya's ribcage.

Kazuya bursts into laughter and giggles, shaking Amahisa with him. "Ah-Sawamura this is-AHAHA-"

Just as Kazuya burst into his last peal of laughter, wheezing out of breath, he felt a light push to his chest, and he stumbled out of the doorway. He looks at Sawamura’s triumphant smile in awe as he tries to catch his breath.

“How did you know...how did you know I’ll be ticklish there?”

“Your high school,” Sawamura shouts. “It was Seido wasn’t it?”

Kazuya gapes at him. “You knew?!” And you still said all that?!

“I thought you two looked familiar when I saw the pictures,” Sawamura grins as the taxi driver impatiently honks his car. “Judging by how wide your mouth is opened I guess I’m right!”

“I-”

The taxi driver honks his car again, scrambling Kazuya’s thoughts.

“You smiled Miyuki Kazuya,” Sawamura helpfully points out as Wakana steps behind him and gives Kazuya a smug look. “Too bad, but you should know better now than to challenge this Sawamura Eijun!”

Kazuya shakes his head, a helpless smile on his face, but when the driver starts to shout, he merely gives the club and him a lingering look before he turns away. He stuffs Amahisa on the backseat along with an already snoring Kuramochi, and ducks his head out to sit in the front.

Something catches his eyes and he pauses, hands over the roof of the taxi. It's Sawamura's suit jacket still draped over Amahisa. There's a golden lining on it's edges, bright even with the dim lighting.

Without pause, Kazuya grabs the jacket and tucks it under his arm. Amahisa whines, his fingers making grabby motions, but he ignores it in favor of closing the door. When he finally sits down and rattles off Amahisa's address from a quick search through his phone, he leans back against his seat tiredly.

Absent-mindedly, he runs his fingers along Sawamura's jacket.

Now, why did he have to go and take it?

-

There's an air of lightness in the office when Kazuya walks in the next morning, and instead of locking himself in his office all day, he stops by Kuramochi's desk. That's how everyone knows the deal went well, and that there was no need to hide stacks of paperwork and coffee grounds from highly questionable sources and far too many caffeine contents to be legal.

The last time their negotiations with a local steel distributor had fallen off, Kazuya had run himself ragged to make sure their deal with their direct competitor was twice as profitable and thrice as promising, taking satisfaction in imagining the face of that cocky newbie who looked down on Kazuya the moment he saw his family name in his business card.

In a peppy mood, he leans against Kuramochi's desk, poking the face-down man with his feet. "Slacking off on the job already? Do I have to call Maezono to hype you up?"

"God no!" Kuramochi snaps his head up and immediately groans in pain as the overhead lights of their office shined straight into his eyes. "Fuck that's bright!"

"He's not boogeyman you know?" Kazuya cackles. 

"Worse. He's human resource, " Kuramochi shudders. "Look, the guy's real sweet and a hard worker. But if I have to hear how we need another fucking team outing to strengthen our bonds I might break his neck."

Ah yes. Maezono's infamous team bonding exercises. Kazuya sends a mourning thought at the dusting company soccer uniform somewhere in the warehouse. They never did recover since Kazuya missed a kick from a ball not a foot in front of him.

"Alright then if you're sober enough to talk shit," Kuramochi grunts. "I want to go over the contract one last time before we sign it next week."

"So we did get the deal with Moon-Face?"

"Course," Kazuya says smugly. "His secretary emailed me just this morning. Says he's very grateful for dropping Amahisa off safely. Sent it with a passive-aggressive smiley too."

"Well, at least something good came out of it," Kuramochi rubs his stomach with a grimace. "Ain't nothing good came out of me last night that's for sure."

"Oh? Not even that card you tucked into Ryosuke's pockets?"

Kuramochi's eyes widen, his cheeks immediately flushing. "You saw that?!"

"Did I see you giggling and fawning over him like a high schooler for an hour and a half straight-well, not so straight? You bet."

"I-" Kuramochi rubs his eyes, embarrassed. "There was just something about him, okay?! Or maybe it was those weird tropical juices he kept making me drink. Besides it's not like I'm coming back." 

"You're not?"

"Duh," he shrugs. "He was cool, but it's not like any of it's real. If I came back I'd just be  another client to him."

"Hmm," Kazuya smiles at the loophole. "But say he called you instead, out of work, of course, you'd…?"

Kuramochi mumbles a half-ass answer under his breath as he sits up and grabs a random pile of papers. "He's not going to...whatever. Go away now, shoo, stop harassing your valued employee!"

"Valued employee my ass." Kazuya rolls his eyes. But he relents and leaves him to it, heading to his own desk.

So, Kuramochi isn’t going back huh. Kazuya sends a withering look at the jacket he draped on the coat rack along with his own. Washed and ironed painstakingly, of course. It’s not like Kazuya doesn't have a valid reason to go back alright? It’d be impolite to not return it. Kazuya fiddles with his phone restlessly. Besides, what Sawamura said yesterday...he can’t just leave it with a lost bet.

Mind made up, he sits down to dig his hands into his awaiting work, knowing the sooner he starts the faster he can leave.

There were certain expectations people put on him as the son of the Miyuki Steel C.E.O. It wasn’t like they were old money, or that they were particularly well known in the industry. In fact, seemingly out of luck, an investor took a liking to how hard his dad worked day and night in his cramped workshop and heavily invested in him. By the time Kazuya graduated, his father had almost fifty people under him, working day and night in his new factory.

They had a long and drawn out argument for almost three days when Kazuya decided that he would reject all the offers he had to be a professional catcher in favor of helping him with the business.

“I said I don’t need you to help me!” His father had yelled at him then. “The only thing you’re good at is baseball, so stop messing around and play it!”

“I’m not doing this to help you,” Kazuya had snarked back. “I’m just thinking of my future alright? Baseball’s fun, but once you’re injured, or hit a certain age, I can’t just keep playing. It’s not that worth it.”

His father had clicked his tongue at that, turning his back on him in favor of staring at the small shrine they erected not long after mom passed away. As always, fresh wildflowers were carefully arranged in a vase, and a light smoke drifted in the air from the two lit incense sticks. “You always did get your stubbornness from her.” He sighed, picking at his oil-stained hand.

It wasn’t like Kazuya didn’t still love baseball with every fiber of his being. Why else would he sacrifice everything to play in a baseball focused high school for three years? But he’s had his fill of baseball. Made outstanding plays. Broken records. Faced reigning kings and monsters. It was just a shame that Kazuya didn’t get to take everyone in Seido to Koushien. But he had underclassmen for that, future Seido players that would carry their dream with them.

No one was waiting for Kazuya in baseball, not really. 

But here at home? One stubborn old man that nearly broke his back in half trying to finish an impossible order is.

“Then you should know,” Kazuya said smugly. “Just like mom, I won’t give in.”

Years of trial and error, losses and break-even, employees coming and going, only Kazuya and his dad held steady in the business. Eventually, a big government project landed in their laps, and Miyuki Steel grew into the empire it is today.

Their success didn't magically fix the rift between them. His dad still thinks gifts and expensive sushi is subtitue enough for real affections. And Kazuya, well, he doesn't like asking tough questions and hearing tougher answers.

He stops by his dad's office just before he clocks out, not bothering to knock on his door. His dad scrambles to swivel his chair around, but Kazuya already catches the scent of menthol in the air.

With a sigh, he marches over to his desk and holds out his hand. With a guilty look on his face, his dad sets an opened box of cigarettes in his hand. 

"I told you to switch to gum you stubborn old man," Kazuya mutters, stuffing it in his pockets. "There's nothing to be stressed about, you're just bored!"

"I just get itchy okay?" His dad says tiredly. "I'm just not cut out for all this. I'm better off down there working with the machines."

"Well work with this instead then." He sets the newly drafted contract on his dad's empty desk, tapping at the thin line where his signature would go. 

"Ah right, everybody's been telling me about the new deal," his dad barely even blinks as he signs it. "Is it that good? Rumor has it you're in a good mood."

"Am I now?" Kazuya wrinkles his nose. He hates being gossiped on, especially with people he's working closely with. Much less them gossiping right into his dad's ears.

"What's this about you leaving early to go somewhere?" His dad taps the pen in his hand rhythmically against the wooden desk, amusement dancing in his eyes. "Have you finally gotten yourself a girlfriend after all these years?"

"Hah." Kazuya huffs. "I just feel...a little celebratory, that's all. Anyway, thanks for signing it dad, I'll drop this by your secretary."

"Wait!" His dad calls out just as he pushes open his door. "If...by chance you do meet someone, you'll introduce them to me...right?"

Kazuya glances back at him and gives him a cheeky look. "Just make sure you're healthy enough to live that long old man."

"Well maybe I wouldn't have to wait so long if you fixed your damn persona-"

He doesn't even stick around to listen to him, giving him a nonchalance wave instead.

-

Without any alcohol in his system, Kazuya can finally take in the host club in its entirety without feeling nauseous. As expected, it had a slick black marble look to it, and tower for at least three stories high. A few green plants were placed here and there, soft pink and yellow flowers decorating the entrance, probably to appeal to more women. 

He had deliberately come in just as they were opening to avoid the crowd, and just as he had expected the club was still preparing for their shift tonight. A lot of people in casual clothing were loading boxes of raw ingredients and boozes from a truck, and at the head of it was one Wakana herself.

Without her makeup and terrifyingly sharp suit, Wakana looks more like the countryside girl Sawamura had gushed about all night. She notices him first as she looks up from her tab, her eyebrows raising ever so slightly before she smirks. "Did you get lost again dear customer? No, perhaps you need a room to sober up again?"

"Is he in?" Kazuya retorts.

"He might be. He might not be." Wakana's eyes twinkle. "He might also have been talking about you non-stop. But I wouldn't know. You'd have to pay to get in and check."

Dammit. Begrudgingly, Kazuya follows the woman to the register and pays for an hour of Sawamura's time, which consisted of much too many zeroes than he thought possible.

"Thank you for your patronage sir," Wakana smiles. "Happy to see you back again so soon."

"Yeah yeah…"

It took some walking around until he finally found the bar Wakana told him about. Behind the counter, Sawamura was idly wiping down glasses with a towel, setting each dry one gently on the glass display case behind him. Nerves struck him once more, only to ease when Sawamura met his eyes and gave him a welcoming smile.

"Miyuki Kazuya!"

"Hey," Kazuya slides onto the seat across him. "Are you busy?"

"Nah, I'm just helping Harucchi out," Sawamura hums, setting his glass down and draping the towel over one of his shoulders. “So, you’re back for more huh?”

“I just thought I should return this,” He hands Sawamura his jacket back, and the host takes it gratefully. “That’s...all I wanted to do honestly.”

“Really?” Sawamura asks with a disappointed tone. “Are you sure? You don’t want to talk to me? Ask me anything?”

“I guess I have some questions,” Kazuya relents. “Wakana roped me into buying your time for like half an hour too, so I better get my money’s worth.”

“She did?” Sawamura chuckles. “We’re not even open yet. But interrogate away Miyuki Kazuya! And while we're at it, do you want a drink? The first three are on the house."

"Sure," Kazuya scans the menu up above the board and grimaces. "I can't decipher half of these drinks."

"What? You don't know what a Sloe Comfortable Screw is? Or a Slippery Nipple? Surely, surely  you know the classic Blow Jo-"

"Sawamura," Kazuya whispers, cheeks burning. "I swear to god I'll round this counter and wring your neck if you say another word!"

"Another word," Sawamura sasses. He relents at Kazuya's narrowed eyes and sticks his hand out. "Alright just give me your I.D and I'll whip out something normal for you, you big baby."

"Why would you need my I.D?" He grumbles, but he obliges anyway and reaches into his pocket.

"Just a standard procedure really," Sawamura smirks. "Why? Is your I.D photo that bad?"

"Just take it already-" In his haste to take out his wallet, he unlodges the pack of cigarettes he confiscated from his dad, and it flops on the counter. 

"Oh?" The host murmurs. "You smoke?"

"No," Kazuya sighs. "It's not mi-"

"Here I got you!" Sawamura declares as he pulls out a lighter out of nowhere. Kazuya can’t even get a word in before Sawamura reaches out, and his thumb presses down his lips. Kazuya subconsciously parts it, and the host gently places a cigarette in his mouth.

Mouth dry, he could only look on as Sawamura flicks the lighter on and the small flame burns through the filter paper. When he peers up, he sees the flames dancing in Sawamura’s brown eyes, flickering it to gold, and instinctively sucks in.

Which, evidently, was a stupid thing to do considering the last time he smoked was on Kuramochi's dingy old apartment, ranting himself hoarse on how the Miyuki Steel is spiraling into an endless pit of failure, and Kuramochi had promptly shoved a cigarette in him to shut him up.

Kazuya immediately coughs, puffs of smoke erratically dissipating in the air between them. Tears formed in the corner of his eyes, and his vision blurs. Sawamura makes a concerned noise and bends down to grab a water bottle that Kazuya gratefully takes. 

One long chug and a relieved sigh later, he catches enough breath to speak again. "Thanks. As I was saying, I don't smoke, these are my dad's."

"Your dad's?" Sawamura murmured. "Huh. I just thought it fit your image so well. But I guess you're a goody two-shoes through and through huh?"

"What image?" Kazuya chuckles. "Stressed overworked corporate slave?"

“Attractive stressed overworked corporate slave.”

Kazuya simply stares at him, the ashes of the burning cigarette slowly falling on the countertop.

“What?” Sawamura asks innocently.

“I forget what your job entails you to do sometimes,” He shakes his head with an exasperated smile. “Is that what gets your clients going? Being called attractive in the same breath as a contradiction?”

“You’re not really my client,” Sawamura challenges, leaning over the counter. This close, Kazuya can see the flutter of his eyelashes, the faint gloss over his lips, and a few freckles dotting his nose. “Not yet, at least.”

“Bold of you to assume I want to be.” Kazuya murmurs, heart hammering in his chest. Kuramochi’s words echo in his mind. If I come back, I’ll just be another client to him. It’s not like he’s surprised that roping him in is Sawamura’s end goal. He’s barely known the guy for a day, much less enough to know his intentions. Still, a lingering sense of disappointment sets in the back of his mind.

“You will,” Sawamura says in a hush as he guides Kazuya’s hand that still holds the lit cigarette between his fingers gently. Curious, he lets Sawamura press the cigarette back in his lips. Swiftly, the host takes a fresh stick of cigarette with a sharp tap of the box against the counter. Instead of flicking the lighter on like Kazuya thought he would, he slowly leans forward, pressing the butt of his cigarette with Kazuya’s.

Sawamura’s eyes peer up to meet him, framed perfectly through his soft bangs, and Kazuya feels something stolen from him. Something he's kept deep inside, safe and locked away, buried and drowned. Dragged out helplessly into the dim light of this host club with barely a struggle.

A hundred thoughts passed through his mind, dozens of scenarios playing in his head. It was like he was seventeen again, crouching down under the blazing sun, and every theory and possible game-calling are at his disposal. There's only ever one formula to explain Kazuya's mildly successful baseball career at that tender age.

Knowledge, and a bold amount of recklessness.

Which is why when his free hand cards through Sawamura's bangs like it ached to last night, he lets that reckless side of him surfaced. Even Sawamura looks surprised, eyes wide and open.

"I'm not going to fall for you Sawamura," Kazuya lies through his teeth, mumbling through the cigarette. "No matter how cute you act."

Sawamura smirks at that, and with a slow exhale smoke fills Kazuya's vision. He feels Sawamura leaning against his hand ever so slightly before he pulls away. Towering over him once more, Sawamura idly taps his cigarette to a nearby ashtray. "What say you we make another bet, Miyuki Kazuya?"

"What kind of bet?"

"I bet," Sawamura hums, eyebrows wrinkling together in thought. "I bet you'll be my V.I.P client within a month."

"Ho?"

"With my pride as the number one host in this club at stake," Sawamura challenges. "Miyuki, I'll make you mine."

"What do I get if I win?"

"Hm," Sawamura exhales another puff of smoke. "How about...I'll let you ask anything from me if you win?"

"Anything?" Kazuya challenges.

"Anything," Sawamura winks cheekily. "That's how confident I am after all!"

"What do you get if you win?"

"Hm," the host looks at him up and down. "Do you still have your old mitt and gear?"

"In a closet somewhere."

"Catch for me," Sawamura says excitedly. "Catch my pitches Miyuki Kazuya!"

"I'm starting to think you're terrible at making up bets, Sawamura." He chuckles at the host's enthusiasm.

"But you're agreeing, right?" Sawamura insists.

"Sure Sawamura," he shakes his offered hand firmly. "I'll make another bet with you."

If there's anything certain about whatever this is between him and Sawamura, is that he wants anything but to be another one of his clients.

-

It's odd how one exchange of phone numbers can throw such a large and loud wrench in his life he can only name Sawamura Eijun.

When Kazuya wakes up on Monday morning, eyelids heavy and throat aching from talking to Sawamura all night, he reaches for his phone charging at the bedside. A slew of text messages and emails flood in, most notably of Kuramochi (very kindly) telling him to wake the fuck up and get to work, hundreds of notification from the old Seido group chat, most likely planning another reunion Kazuya will most certainly not attend, and various replies from co-workers and clients.

But even in the flood of texts, one still stood up to him.

Sawamura had insisted he got to type in his own contact name, saying Kazuya would probably type in something boring like his actual name (literally what else would I type you idiot), and refused to let Kazuya change it, or else he'll call off the bet entirely.

So here Kazuya is, staring at his too bright phone to a text from Ei-chan.

The mad man actually woke up earlier than Kazuya, texting him good morning at 6 a.m with a photo to accompany it.

Kazuya stares in disgust at a photo of Sawamura in the middle of a run, earphones in and smiling brightly to his phone, wearing a loose tank top that accentuates his muscles.

♡Ei-chan♡

I can't believe you're a morning person

!

You actually replied!!

Good morning Miyuki Kazuya!!!

How are you a morning person

Doesn't your shift end in like 3 a.m or something 

I slept!! For like four hours

But I get restless so I exercise and meditate

A healthy life needs a healthy body and mind!

Disgusting

Aw but how else can I catch you before work?

Gotta make sure I'm running through your mind all day!

I don't need a sweaty image of you stuck in my head

Liar ♡

[Photo Sent]

Kazuya nearly threw his phone in the air as Sawamura sent the second picture. Clearly, when Sawamura said exercise, he wasn't talking about a simple jog around the park. Much sweatier than the picture he sent an hour ago, Sawamura was practically glowing under the now bright sun.

It took Kazuya two take-backs to realize the night host had tied a tire on his waist and judging by how worn the rope was, it didn't seem like a one-off thing. His tank top stuck to his body from the sweat, leaving nothing to imagination. Even though half of his face was covered by the hand he used to wipe the sweat, he was no less breathtaking than any other time Kazuya's seen him.

Eventually, another text popped up when Kazuya failed to reply.

Cat got your tongue Miyuki?

Shut up you brat

Refusing to indulge the man in any more banter, he sets his sight into going through his usual morning routine. Only Sawamura makes it impossible for Kazuya to not check his phone every so often, and even getting him to actually reply, a monumental act that people in the office still fail to experience first hand.

A picture of an (admittedly) cute dog Sawamura met as he ran a lap around the park when Kazuya drank his first but certainly not last cup of coffee.

Another scandalous photo of Sawamura, wet, after upending his water bottle over his head, nearly sending the cereal Kazuya swallowed down the wrong pipe.

Numerous texts of how his energy drink tasted weird after being under the sun for too long, the too crowded train back home, the flash sale of nattos that had him ranting about its inherent evil nature and spite for Sawamura's taste bud until he finally asked what Kazuya was doing when he ran out of things to talk about.

Getting dressed for work

Oh

Oh no

What.

Nothing!

It's just…

Well I've seen you twice now…

And at first I thought you were just drunk and tipsy

But the second time…

What

What's wrong with how I dress

I mean

A purple shirt? With a red tie?

I've seen lots of hosts around and none of them assault my eyes like you did

Assault-

I know!! Take a picture of your closet for me

I'll dress you for work

You just want to see the inside of my closet don't you

Pervert

Kazuya smirks as Sawamura stays silent.

Why so shy?

Do you have something to hide?

Are you in the closet Miyuki?

Kazuya clicks his tongue and simply sends a haphazard picture of his closet.

Oh wow

Do you have

Every single color of the rainbow in there?

I don't think I've ever seen that shade of green before…

Look

Just hurry up alright?

I don't have time to play dress-up

Okay okay jeez

Here wear everything I circled

[Photo Sent]

Do you do this to all your clients?

Insult their wardrobe and play makeover?

Only the hopeless ones ;)

Why do I even reply to you

You'll thank me

Especially when you turn heads today

It feels like the only head-turning would be Kazuya's from the whiplash of emotions Sawamura gives him.

-

"Holy shit," Kuramochi freezes in the middle of the crowded lobby as he meets eyes with him. "You finally used your glasses didn't you?!"

Kazuya self consciously pats himself down, hyper-aware at the numerous employees openly staring at him, mouth agape. One poor intern even walked into a decorative plant and spilled coffee all over herself.

"Come on, I don't look that different do I?"

"Are you kidding me?!" Kuramochi popped a vein. "You color-coordinated, like an actual color-seeing person!"

"Oh fuck off." Kazuya scowls.

"I like the blue," he comments as they wait for the elevator. "Kinda reminds me of our old Seido uniform."

Ah.

"Pft," Kazuya couldn't help but break into a smile. "That idiot."

"Who're you calling an idiot?!" Kuramochi screams in his ears, swinging his arm and bringing him into a chokehold.

"OW! NOT YOU, NOT YOU!"

-

Were you that desperate to see me in my old colors?

Mm a little bit

But I'm patient

Soon you'll be spilling your life story and daily woes in my arms as we order the most expensive champagne

Then you'll be drunk enough to bust out more of your high school pictures

Hell, even your baby pictures

I'll have you know I have a high alcohol tolerance 

Oh Miyuki Kazuya 

You're talking to the number one host, remember?

I'll drink you under any time, any day

Headfirst, eyes wide open, Kazuya walks right into it.

Bet

See you tonight?

Saving a slot for you ♡

-

"You look chipper today," his dad comments. "You're leaving early again, and you're dressed...not like your usual self."

"Astute observation boss." Kazuya rolls his eyes as he leans back against his dad's couch.

"You're seeing someone aren't you?"

Ha. If only it was that normal.

"Nah," he shrugs. "Just changing it up."

"It's okay if you are," his dad says lightly, fixing his eyes on the computer screen. "I know you didn't have much time to date in high school, and you certainly didn't have time stuck with me and the company."

"I'm fine dad. Dating just isn't...on the table right now."

"Anyone's fine Miyuki. And I do mean anyone. As long as they make you happy. You know when I met your mom-"

"Alright alright type and talk or don't talk at all old man don't get nostalgic on me."

"...hmph."

-

"I snagged the good vintage for us!" Sawamura announces the moment he steps inside the club.

"God have mercy on my wallet," Kazuya replies airily.

With Sawamura in the lead, he bypasses Wakana entirely, smiling smugly when she gives him a withering look. They occupy the furthest booth from the entrance, with Sawamura sliding next to him, shot glasses in hand.

Kazuya lets the host pour for them both, immediately downing the liquid courage. It isn't until Sawamura refills his glass for the third time that he realizes the host has been openly staring at him, hand propping up his cheek.

"What?" Kazuya hums.

"You really are handsome aren't you?" Sawamura pouts. "With no makeup too. Bastard."

"What are you saying out of the blue," he grumbles, hiding his blush by drinking the (admittedly) good vintage whiskey. "You're just buttering up yourself for making me play dress up."

"Oh!" Sawamura gasps. "Well?! Did you turn heads Miyuki Kazuya?! Did people run into walls? Was there nose bleeds galore? Did flowers start blooming around you?"

"I got one compliment," Kazuya cuts in, smirking at Sawamura's slumped shoulders. "From Kuramochi if that makes you feel any better."

Kazuya conveniently leaves out the fact that most of his coworkers left his office three times as red and five times more prone to stuttering. He can't feed Sawamura's ego anymore, lest he starts getting more and more cheeky.

"Boo," Sawamura sighs, absentmindedly running his hand over Kazuya's dark blue jacket. "But that's for the best I guess."

"Hm?"

"I can't have you look too good," Sawamura winks at him. "I want you to only have eyes for me after all."

"You would've made a perfect pitcher with all that ego." Kazuya laughs. 

Sawamura opens his mouth to reply, only to be interrupted with a boom of claps and cheers. They both glance to the side to see glasses of champagne being set up, and a beaming host with red streaks in his hair repeatedly bowing and thanking everyone.

"Oh!" Sawamura exclaims. "Seto finally got his first champagne tower!"

Kazuya curiously leans against him to catch a closer look. "Champagne tower?"

"It's the most extravagant thing in the menu," Sawamura proudly explains. "It's really a way for our clients to show us off."

"Hm. So which one's his client?"

"The brown-haired one and that big tall guy are his helpers," Sawamura points out. "And that scary looking wolf-boy is his client Okumura. He's super shady, but he's been with Taku ever since they were my helpers! He's loyal like that I guess, wahaha!"

"Helpers?"

"They're mostly hosts in training that shadow their seniors. I taught them everything they know! And then I sent them off to the wild like a good senpai."

"Is that so," Kazuya looks down at the host, still clapping for Taku, and smirks. "So if I wanted more hosts with me I can right?"

Sawamura tenses under him, and looks up at him in accusation. "You're going to ask for more hosts?!"

"I mean I can, can't I?" He teases. "Maybe there's a host out there that won't insult my fashion sense, blow my phone up with texts, or bet that I'll be their V.I.P client every five minutes."

He expected Sawamura to huff and puff, maybe sulk and pout until Kazuya gives in and buys him another round as an apology. What he certainly doesn't expect is for Sawamura to go quiet and suddenly stand up, head bowed down.

"Sawamura?" Kazuya asks tentatively.

"We're going." He snaps, wrapping a hand around Kazuya's wrist.

"Going? Hey-!" Kazuya stumbles out of the booth as he pulls him by the hand. "Where are you taking me?!"

"I'll show you," Sawamura mutters under his breath. "Not to underestimate me."

Kazuya swallows as Sawamura strings him along, trudging up the second floor purposefully. He sends a desperate look at Wakana, but she merely shrugs and mouths good luck to him. Kazuya mouths a not so polite word back at her.

Sawamura snaps his head left and right like an alert dog at the hallway, scanning their surroundings for an empty room. He manages to find one in the furthest corner, and without warning, he shoves Kazuya in it.

He lands softly on a plush couch, and just as he takes in a deep breath, Sawamura takes it away by climbing over him, hands caging him in. Kazuya looks up at him wordlessly, mouth gaping open. "Sawamura?!"

"Clearly I haven't brought my A-game if you can still think of other hosts when you're with me," Sawamura whispers, one of his hands moving to cup Kazuya's cheek. "Am I not enough, is that it? You weren't being coy were you?"

"You know why I don't like being a client," Kazuya says calmly, a polar opposite of his heart thumping against his chest, so fast and loud it's a wonder Sawamura hasn't heard it himself. "I don't believe in the illusion you're selling."

"But you came back," Sawamura narrows his eyes, curling his fingers on the nape of Kazuya's neck. He tamps down the shiver threatening to break out. "Why?" 

For you, Kazuya nearly blurts out.

"Maybe I want to believe."

Sawamura's eyes sharpen at that. A tug was all but Kazuya's warning before something soft pressed against his lips. Kiss. Sawamura was kissing him. It took him a moment for his brain to catch up, muddled from the alcohol and shock, but he soon got into the program.

Sawamura kissed with confidence, like he knew Kazuya would give anything he was willing to take. There was a wickedness to how his tongue curled and licked into his mouth, pulling a whine from Kazuya. Both their hands started to stray, Kazuya's going up and down Sawamura's waist, untucking his shirt and crinkling it with his grip.

Sawamura seemed at home running his fingers on Kazuya's hair, pulling away to pant hotly before diving back in, kissing him deeper. In the dimness of the club's lighting, pressed so close to Sawamura's warmth, Kazuya let himself go.

Grinding against each other, desperate for contact, Kazuya could feel them both getting harder, straining against their pants. Teasingly, Sawamura ran a hand down his chest, twisting his hand around Kazuya's tie, before pulling it hard. Kazuya broke off the kiss with a moan.

Growing bolder, he lets his hands wander more, slipping his hand under Sawamura's shirt. Underneath it, his skin is flushed with sweat, and the photos from this morning cross Kazuya's mind once more. Apparently impatient with how he was touching him, Sawamura took both his hands in his. And placed it right on his firm ass.

"Fuck." Kazuya breathes out.

Sawamura presses closer to him, and with Kazuya's hand on his bottom, they rock against each other. Their kisses have devolved into sloppy, open-mouthed kisses, panting and moaning against each other, out of breath but still aching for more.

When Sawamura lets go of his hold on Kazuya's tie, he runs his hand down his chest, his fingers brushing against Kazuya's nipple through the fabric of his shirt ever so slightly, and he jolts at the sensation. When Sawamura's hand doesn't stop creeping down, Kazuya's eyes follow it reverently. Without hesitation, Sawamura’s hand pats down his apparent arousal, and gently cups it in his hand.

Kazuya opens his mouth to moan, only for it to be stuffed full with his own tie. He shoots Sawamura a hysterical look. “Mmph?!”

“Shush,” Sawamura winks. “I wouldn’t want anyone else to hear your pretty moans Miyuki Kazuya.”

He nearly dislodges Sawamura off his lap when the host deftly unbuttons his pants, squirming in embarrassment when a wet spot was apparent in his boxers. “Someone’s excited.” Sawamura giggles.

Kazuya rolls his eyes and pinches Sawamura’s ass in warning.

“Ow! Fine fine, you’re so bossy…”

There was an air of anticipation as Sawamura slowly peels his underwear off and his hard cock bobs out, already leaking at the slit. Instead of taking it in his hand like he thought he would, Sawamura simply stares at it. Kazuya squirms in his seat, self conscious. He doesn’t know how many genitals Sawamura’s seen in his lifetime, but judging by the confident way he’s held himself, Kazuya assumes it’s a lot .

“Mmmph?” He grunts.

“Huh?” Sawamura snaps his head up, nearly headbutting his chin. “Oh! Right. Um, sorry.”

He eyes the flustered look Sawamura has on and the flush high on his cheeks, and it finally clicks. Sawamura wasn’t looking down on his size. No, he was admiring it. He revels in that sudden knowledge, chest-puffing out in pride.

Sawamura notices and snorts, pushing him back against the couch. And then he takes Kazuya in his hand, and all thoughts in his head come crashing down to nothing but how good Sawamura’s hand feels. God, how long has it been since he’s been with anyone, much less be touched by them?

Sawamura’s fist was tight and unrelenting, and his pace sent Kazuya’s mind reeling. He alternates between stroking him fast and hurried, almost like he was desperate to make Kazuya come. But then he slows to a lazy pump, thumbing the slit of his cock teasingly. Kazuya all but soaks his tie with his own saliva from how much he moans himself hoarse.

He’s close, he knows he is, and he tries to tell Sawamura. But his muffled warning goes on deaf ears when Sawamura instead leans closer, mouthing kisses to the side of his jaw. His pace turns almost viciously slow, expertly running his fingers down the veins of Kazuya’s cock, pressing down on his slit until a trickle of cum unwittingly trails out. Kazuya silently trashes against him, a whine pulling low from his throat.

“Do you want to cum?” Sawamura whispers right in his ear.

Kazuya nods quickly, bucking his hips up to meet Sawamura’s hand. But the host all but holds a loose and still fist around Kazuya’s cock, laughing softly at his desperate cant of hips. “Do you want me to touch you more?”

Another series of nods, more hurried and erratic.

"Too bad," Sawamura sighs, nuzzling the side of his exposed neck. "I don't feel like it. You can do it yourself, can't you?"

Kazuya glares at the side of Sawamura's head, heated enough that he's sure the host feels it. Sawamura giggles, pressing an apologetic kiss to his cheek.

Kazuya sighs, thinking that the host would stop messing around. But instead he feels Sawamura's hold on his cock tighten, and he strokes him with a brutally fast pace.

"Mhmph?!" Kazuya screams into his tie, caught between shock and pleasure.

"Come for me," Sawamura whispers wickedly into his ear. "Senpai."

Kazuya embarrassingly cums to that in seconds.

-

Sex, it seems, really does put one in the mood for smoking.

Leaning against the railing inside the company's smoking room, Kazuya slowly re-learns how to smoke again. It's been a few days since the incident, as he dubs it, and he's been too busy to visit Sawamura in the club. He expected the texts from the host to die down, especially when he makes it clear that he won't make it back till at least the end of the week, but Sawamura never misses a beat.

Good morning texts, daily photos, rants about missing the last train, grumbling over some rude customers, despite not having seen him in a while, Kazuya still feels in the loop.

Kazuya takes another drag of his cigarette, smiling at the memory. These days, he spends more and more time scrolling through his chat with Sawamura. A glance at the nearest clock tells him there's still plenty of time in his break, so he ponders on calling Sawamura to fill the time. 

Just as he hovers over Sawamura's contact, he hears rapid taps on the glass door. He looks up to see a flustered Kuramochi, roughly gesturing for him to get out. He stubs the cigarette on the nearest ashtray and swings the door open, eyebrows raised in question.

"What's up?"

"I don't know you tell me!" Kuramochi yells, grabbing him by his arm and dragging him away.

Kazuya sighs, wondering if he should start digging his feet on the ground if everyone's going to start dragging him everywhere. Instead of taking him to his office or his desk like he expected, Kuramochi shoves him inside his dad’s office unceremoniously.

“Dad?” Kazuya asks as he stumbles forward. “What’s…”

He trails off into muted silence as he finally takes in the state of his dad’s office. Piles upon piles of dahlias covered the room from head to toe, ranging from every color possible. His dad looked like he was drowning in a pile of bouquets, looking lost but strangely proud. It wasn’t until Kuramochi shoves a disgustingly pink card at his chest that he clicks his jaw shut.

Instead of writing a greeting card, like a normal person would, the card was completely blank. All except for the dark purple print of a kiss mark at the edge of the paper. It takes one whiff for Kazuya to realize who sent it, and he spares one moment to realize how pathetic it was that he could recognize Sawamura by the scent of his cologne.

"Well," his dad coughs awkwardly. "I see you didn't need any encouragement after all."

-

♡Ei-chan♡

There's two Miyukis in the office you dumbass

I-

Wait

No

Oh my god

Everyone's teasing my dad now

He's blushing Sawamura

My 55 year old dad is blushing

[Picture Sent]

Not even a dogeza will save you now

[Picture Sent]

Neither is acting cute

[Picture Sent]

…

You actually used lipstick?

:)

...fine

You owe me a vintage for this

Yessir!!

-

Kazuya ended up spending the better half of the day distributing the flowers to everyone at work, screaming inwardly as they coo over him and the flower.

Kuramochi's scowl was still permanently etched on his stupid face as he lugged around a cardboard box filled with a never-ending supply of flowers. They bowed and said their goodbyes to the marketing department and slowly made their way to HR.

"You actually came back didn't you, you crazy bastard?"

He stumbles at his next step, slamming his foot hard on the floor. He flinches at Kuramochi's snort. "...I don't know what you're talking about."

"You're telling me someone out there is insane enough to not only date you, but send you a truckload of flowers signed with a kiss marked card?"

"Get off my back will you?" He grumbles. "It's not a big deal."

"I had my suspicion when you kept clocking out early, now you're smoking again, and the other day-god has he been dressing you? You're in too deep man." Kuramochi insists.

"You don't know me," Kazuya snaps back. "You don't know him either. And I'm barely knee-deep in a kiddie pool."

"I'm the only one that knows you, prick!" Kuramochi snaps, throwing the box down the floor. A passing employee yelps and scurries away, nearly tripping on his own shoe.

"I can take care of myself," Kazuya mutters. "I'm not going in this with a blind eye alright?"

"You're not blind. You're just looking away," Kuramochi massages his temples tiredly. "Whatever affections he's showing you, it's surface-level Miyuki. And it'll always be if you keep meeting him in that club."

"What, so I should back off and never see him again?" He smiles, empty and prickly. "Should I fiddle my thumb and stare at my phone like a lost dog like you do?"

Kuramochi flinches at that. Slowly, Kazuya closes his eyes in frustration.

"Fuck. Mochi, I'm-"

"No. You're right," Kuramochi says in a level tone. Cold and concise. "You're a big boy aren't you? Play with your fire. Just don't run to me if you get burned."

Kazuya stands rooted in the deserted hallway for far too long, staring at the stray petals of dahlias sprawled all over the floor.

-

His feet take him to the club without him noticing. Like a puppet wound by strings, he's drawn to the stage he built with Sawamura. He must look more miserable than usual if Wakana doesn't even kick up a fuss when she sees him.

"Today's probably not a good day," she warns. "He's with someone."

"I'm just here for a drink." He lies through his teeth. He waves his card around tauntingly. "You won't let a paying customer go, will you?"

"Ugh. Suit yourself," Wakana swiftly swipes his card. "You two just have to take the most convoluted way possible don't you?"

"Hm? What's this, is Miss Wakana giving me small talk?"

Wakana grits her teeth and slams his card down the counter. "Good evening sir."

Kazuya smirks and mockingly tips his non-existent hat. It falls just as he turns his back, quietly walking through the by now familiar club.

It wasn't like he didn't realize what Sawamura's job entails. Sweet words, casual touches, getting drunk until dawn, whispering words one desperately wanted to hear, over and over until it feels real.

Sawamura doesn't just sell dreams.

He was one.

He makes you feel so special when he texts you good morning, taking you along in his day with a few string of texts and photos, picking your tie, gushing about a new restaurant you should try, staying on the phone with you past reasonable hours just to say goodnight before his shift.

But Kazuya's favorite moments with Sawamura are when they lull into a comfortable quiet. When they're a few drinks in, but not enough to be completely tipsy. When their voices fall into a hush, too quiet for a host club. When the gold in Sawamura's eyes becomes brighter the more brandy they drink.

When they stop being coy and flirty, and talk about baseball like they're seventeen again, and the most important thing in the world is who's going to win it all this season.

He reads books in languages that twist Kazuya's tongue just trying to read their titles, just so he would never run out of things to talk about and always be ready to connect with his clients. Sometimes he's so open about himself Kazuya wonders if he even has any secrets, and if there were, how long they would last.

For all his job entails, Sawamura was easier to read than any of his latest classic literature endeavors. He's happy when you're happy. He's sad when you're sad. He'll get mad for you when you can't even be bothered to anymore. 

Which is why when he stumbles into Sawamura looking down at a man laying his head on his lap, mid-conversation, he easily flips through Sawamura's expressions. Wide-eyed at being caught. A visible swallow as he meets Kazuya's eyes. Shivering from his cold and calculative gaze. Guilt, as he chews his lips.

But beneath all that, from the flex of his lithe fingers on the table, curling ever so slightly, was anticipation.

If you keep looking at me like that, I'll really steal you away. He thought with a tilt to his head.

The edges of Sawamura's eyes crinkle in satisfaction.

"Hm?" The man in his lap tilts his head to the side. "Why, if it isn't mister bigshot Miyuki Kazuya himself! Fancy seeing you here."

Kazuya stuffs his hand in his pocket, itching for a cigarette. "I could say the same for you Amahisa-san. I thought you'd be at your fifth bar by now."

"I would be yeah!" He laughs unashamedly. "But then I passed this club and went, huh, I wonder how that pretty gold eyed angel was doing, and lucky me! He's on shift!"

"You mean you strolled in and called everyone ugly, demanding to see me or else ." Sawamura rolls his eyes.

"Eh, semantics. Aren't you happy that I came back? After Miyuki here stole your jacket off my own back, I didn't have an excuse to see you again." Amahisa hums, reaching his hand out to cup Sawamura's jaw.

His own hand snapped out, and without thinking he grabbed Amahisa by his wrist tightly.

"Ah?" Amahisa's face immediately soured. "What's this?"

Kazuya ignores him in favor of staring straight at Sawamura. "We're going."

"Going where?" Sawamura teases. "In case you can't see, I'm a little busy."

"Ow! Jesus man you don't have to grip so hard, you're bruising me!" Amahisa whines.

Kazuya twitches. "The beach."

"The beach?" Sawamura blinks. "Why…"

"Because I want to." Kazuya jolts his head to the side. "I'll wait in my car."

"Hey! He's not going with you, he's with-OW!" Amahisa breaks off into a pained shout as his head hits the couch. Sawamura hastily stands up, patting his head apologetically before rushing after him.

"Miyuki Kazuya wait for me!" He laughs, linking his arm around Kazuya's.

"Did you get your jacket?" Kazuya muses.

"Nah," Sawamura smiles cheekily. "You'll lend me yours won't you?"

"As if. I bet you never caught a cold a day in your life."

"I'll catch one just to spite you then!"

"Hngh…" Amahisa whimpers something under his breath, but Kazuya ignores him in favor of walking Sawamura to his car.

-

There wasn't much to see of the beach this late at night. His impulsivity caught up to him the moment he killed the engine. Drumming his fingers on the steering wheel awkwardly, he glances at Sawamura.

The host looked lost in thought, looking out at the beach with an indescribable look.

He gets out of the car and rounds the side, tapping at the glass to get his attention. Sawamura perks up and smiles, leaning away to let him open the door. He looks at Kazuya expectantly, still firmly stuck in his seat.

"What now?" He sighs, leaning against the roof.

Sawamura grins and steps out of his dress shoes, wiggling out of his socks. He extends both his arms out at Kazuya, wiggling his fingers beggingly. “Carry me over to the beach!”

“Brat,” Kazuya sighs, powerless to keep the fondness out of his voice. “You could’ve just taken it off on the beach.”

“I don’t want to get sand on my shoes,” he whines. “Come on, my arms are getting sore here!”

“Is this what it’s like to take you anywhere?” He rolls his eyes. But a moment later he faces away from the car and squats down, readying his hand to hold him up.

“Woah you’re actually doing it?!” Sawamura says in awe as he climbs up to him.

Kazuya grunts at the extra weight. “I didn’t tell you how far I’ll take you.”

“You won’t drop me!” Sawamura cackles, wrapping his arms around his neck. “If I fall on my ass we wouldn't be able to do more...fun stuff you know?"

The tips of his ears redden as he picks up the pace. "Shameless."

For all his fuss, Sawamura stays quiet as he steps out of the concrete and into the sand. He doesn't bend down to let Sawamura off, and the host doesn't ask. He walks them to the edge of the shoreline, breathing in the salty cool air.

Sawamura's arms tighten around him, and he feels his cool cheek press against his as he leans his head on his shoulder. 

"I forgot what the ocean looked like." He murmurs. 

"Me too," Kazuya admits, shifting his hold on Sawamura's thighs. "I haven't been here in years."

"...did I go too far?" Sawamura peers at him. "In the club back there."

"If your goal was to piss me off you pass with flying colors." Kazuya snarks back.

"He actually was wandering around aimlessly. And he did demand to see me." Sawamura grumbles. "He's a character alright. Even Wakana couldn't handle him."

"And that pillow lap you gave him?" Kazuya's fingers dig through his pants. "Did he demand that too?"

"I offered, actually," Sawamura chuckles. "Say, maybe a minute after I saw your car pull upfront."

"Is it funny?" Kazuya says lightly. "Making fun of my feelings?"

"I-" Sawamura shakes his head, his soft hair brushing against his cheek. "I wasn't trying to make fun of you!"

"Why does everything you do feel like you're testing me then?" Kazuya wonders. "You draw the line between us like it’s nothing, but then you go around sending an avalanche of flowers to my office, my birth flowers at that. You let another man on your lap just to see me squirm, and…”

“And?” Sawamura whispers back.

“I don’t want to get burned.” He admits quietly.

“Miyuki…”

Slowly, he let Sawamura down to the sand. He doesn’t look back, reaching to his pocket instead for a cigarette.

“I thought you didn’t smoke?” Sawamura murmurs as he steps beside him.

“I developed a taste for it.” 

Sawamura stares at him as he flickers the lighter on, the small flame contained in the palm of his hands.

Kazuya takes a long drag and sighs it out, idly watching the smoke go off with the wind. “Wait here.”

“Huh?”

“Just wait.”

He leaves Sawamura near the shore and trudges back to his car, opening the back trunk. He takes a few long drags left of his cigarette and lets it fall to the ground, crushing it with his shoes. He grabs a few things from the old cardboard box lodged in the corner and walks back to the beach, catching Sawamura idly keeping his hands warm.

“Catch.”

Sawamura yelps as Kazuya haphazardly throws him an old pitcher glove Mei left at his place once and a ball, worn at the seams. He puts on his own glove and punches it, and couldn’t help but smile when it still made the same sound it always did back in high school. He looked up to see Sawamura’s eyes blown wide, lips parted in awe.

Prickled, he turns away and walks a few feet, crouching down in front of him. He opens the glove to him. “You win, Sawamura.”

Sawamura blinks rapidly, halfway to putting on his glove. “I...win?”

“The bet,” Kazuya reminds him. “If I lose, I have to play catch with you, right? Well this is it. Once you’re satisfied...well. The bet is done and dusted.”

“But-” Sawamura stutters. “You-but you-you’re not...that’s it? You won’t come see me anymore?”

“You can try. I guess I’m technically your V.I.P client already,” he laughs mirthlessly. “I’m pretty sure I’ve seen you every night for the past month, and you’ve certainly treated me like one. You win a perfect victory, Sawamura.”

Stricken, the host looks down at his glove with a complicated look. “It’s not like I did all that just because you were a customer.” He mutters petulantly.

“You go above and beyond to make people happy Sawamura. I get it. And I was happy with what you’ve given me,” Kazuya tilts his head. “It just wasn’t enough for me. But that’s not your fault.”

“Miyuki…” Looking lost and torn, Sawamura glances between him and the ball in his hand.

“Pitch,” Kazuya opened his glove once more. “And I’ll catch.” 

Sawamura’s face flitted to so many expressions in a span of a moment before he raised both his hands up, face set. “...are you ready?”

Kazuya stares at his golden eyes, bright even in the barren and cold night and slowly nods, trying not to let the disappointment bubble through him. 

Sawamura raises his leg, Kazuya’s feet shift the sand, and then...his arm all but disappears behind him.

Eyes wide, the ball flies to him in a white blur, and he makes a last-ditch attempt to catch it. But it all but breaks to the side, and falls on to the sand. He looks back at Sawamura, mouth agape.

“What was that?”

Sawamura presses his lip together, all but shivering in excitement. “That! That’s the look!”

“What look?”

“Surprise, awe, curiosity,” Sawamura giddily rushes to his side, kicking up sand in his wake, and Kazuya all but confusedly lets the host barrel over and knocks him back to the soft sand. Sawamura looks down at him, cheeks flushed and a wide grin on his face. “How did you like it Miyuki Kazuya? My naturally moving ball?!”

“It’s…” He couldn’t help but raise his hand to brush back Sawamura’s bangs, smiling when it revealed his eyes, burning bright. “It’s beautiful Sawamura. I wished we could’ve played together in high school.”

Sawamura leans his head to his touch, eyes watery. “You mean it?”

Kazuya pats his head absentmindedly. “We could’ve been the best partner Japan has ever seen.”

Sniffling, Sawamura buries his head in his chest. “...I really wasn’t playing with your feelings.”

“I know Sawamura. I was the one who...got carried away.”

“I really was inspired by how you played in high school. I didn’t know baseball that deeply yet, but even I could see your presence on the field was something special,” Sawamura sighs. “That night, when we first met, the way you looked at me...it was the way I’ve always imagined if I was ever on top of a mound, right across you.”

“I did everything I could think of to make you interested in me, hoping you’ll come back,” Sawamura props his head up on his chest, looking at Kazuya shyly. “ I was the one who got carried away when you started talking about seeing other hosts. I practically pounced on you-anyway!” He breaks off as Kazuya starts smirking. 

“Oh stop looking so smug! As I was saying, having you catch for me is literally like...my dream come true, okay? But that doesn’t mean everything between us was just to make it happen. I wouldn’t…” Sawamura breaks off into a mumble. “I wouldn’t do the things I do with you with anyone else…”

“Do you really mean that?” Kazuya says, willing his heart to shut the fuck up or else Sawamura would catch wind of it hammering in his chest.

“I mean, if anyone’s fashion sense is as much as a tragedy as yours, I’d be morally obligated to help them, really. And I have sent flowers on my client’s birthdays…” Sawamura cheekily grins.

“Oi.”

“But,” Sawamura nuzzles closer to him. “I wanted to make you happy not just because it was my job. I wanted to see you laugh because when you do, it feels like all the weight over you just disappears, if only for a moment. I’m used to playing my part. This job is a theatre, and you’re expected to keep up the act till the bitter end. But with you...somehow the lines blur together.”

“So are you ready?” Kazuya asks. “Are you finally stepping down the stage to meet me?”

“Did you bring flowers?” Sawamura smiles, pressing his forehead to his.

“As a matter of fact, an idiot with a penchant for grand gestures just happened to give me enough flowers for a lifetime…”

-

The ride back to his apartment is a newfound torture.

Kazuya grabbed the steering wheel in a death grip as Sawamura nuzzles his nose to his tight pants, his cock growing harder by the second. The host was panting, his breath warm and inviting. When Kazuya met eyes with him as he pulled to a stop at a red light, he licked a broad stripe up his pants, digging his teeth to Kazuya’s zipper. A wet patch formed, and Kazuya all but tangled Sawamura’s hair with his fingers, burying his face closer.

“Mm,” Sawamura tugs his pants down, licking his lips as his cock bobbed out. “Someone’s excited.”

“Hypocrite,” Kazuya smirks as he reaches out and tugged Sawamura’s shirt loose. He runs his cold fingers down Sawamura’s spine, watching him shiver. 

“You’ve been grinding against your seat haven’t you?” He chuckles as Sawamura flinches, tensing. “You haven’t even sucked me off but you’re this excited?”

“Can you blame me?” Sawamura pouts, rubbing the tip of his cock against his lips. His clever tongue flickers out to press at his slit, and Kazuya nearly pressed down on the gas pedal. “This is the first time I’m doing this for someone I like so much…”

“Liar,” Kazuya moans as Sawamura took him in his mouth, cursing when the light turned green. “What kind of first time would be this…”

“You don’t believe me?” Sawamura teases, purposely being sloppy. He pressed open-mouthed kisses on the head of his cock, sucking ever so slightly at the veins in his shaft before devolving into kittenish licks.

Helpless, he all but speeds up the car, thanking every star aligned at how empty the streets were. The harder he stepped on the gas pedal, the more enthusiastic Sawamura got. His hand stroked his cock faster, tighter, and his mouth...god his mouth.

“Mm!” Sawamura chokes as one of his hands leaves the steering wheel and grabs him by the back of his neck, easing more of his cock to him. Tears formed at the corner of his eyes as he grips Kazuya’s thigh, taking his girth deeper. He ruts at his seat more desperately, looking up at him pleadingly.

“You want me to touch you?” Kazuya says hoarsely.

Sawamura answers by bobbing his head up and down, sucking him enthusiastically.

“S-slow down!” Kazuya warns as he sharply turns the car around.

Stubbornly, the host shimmies out of his pants until he’s bare from the waist down, and Kazuya can’t help but steal a glance.

Dripping down on his leather seat was Sawamura’s cum, his cock wet and red from how aroused he was. Whining, Sawamura lets his cock go with a pop, pumping him in a tight fist. 

With a curse, he pulls up just in time at the parking lot for Sawamura to twist his hand just right before he comes all over himself. Panting, he hazily looks on as Sawamura gathers his spent, and instead of wiping it down, he reaches to his back instead.

“You-!”

Sawamura moans as he presses his fingers inside himself, resting his head on Kazuya’s thigh. “Please...touch me…”

“Just pull up your pants and walk to the elevator!” Kazuya says, flustered. Torn between watching and dragging him up where actual lube exists.

“I can’t!” He flutters his eyelashes prettily, shifting to climb up on Kazuya’s seat. Instinctively, Kazuya props him up. “Please, before we get in…”

“I-”

“Please,” he whispers right in his ear, biting it. “Senpai, touch me...deeper.”

“One of these days,” he growls as he pulls Sawamura’s fingers out, flushing at his victorious laugh. “That word isn’t going to work on me anymore.”

He runs his fingers along Sawamura’s rim, sighing as he presses a kiss to all the skin he could get to. When he pushes two fingers in without warning, Sawamura all but arches his back, nearly hitting his head on the roof of the car.

“Haah...so thick...senpai, your fingers…” Sawamura moans, rocking back to meet it. “Please…!”

“How are you so lewd?” Kazuya murmurs before he kisses him, biting his lip to part it. The car was quiet, all but the sound of his fingers working Sawamura and their open-mouthed kisses, growing sloppier by the second. He works his second hand on Sawamura’s cock as he finally presses a third finger, searching for his sweet spot.

“Ungh, there-right there-!” Sawamura moans as he comes. He doesn’t stop riding Kazuya’s fingers, whining as he grabs Kazuya’s jacket until it wrinkles.

“Please, senpai, I need-!”

“Okay, okay!” Kazuya pulls away, ignoring his weak protest. “Put your damn pants back on! We’re leaving!”

“Aw, you’re no fun!”

He couldn’t even meet the receptionist’s eyes as he drags Sawamura behind him into the elevator, forcing him to stand across him lest he tries anything in an elevator with a camera.

Sawamura looked almost ethereal, his lips bitten red and raw, his hair mushed up and tangled. He barely even buttoned his shirt, the few marks Kazuya left in a haze all but displayed in full view. Sawamura meets his eyes and grins, leaning back and tilting his head just right.

“Did you just realize fall for me all over again senpai? This Sawamura Eijun doesn’t blame you-”

“Yeah,” Kazuya admits easily, smirking at Sawamura’s surprised look. “If this elevator didn’t have a camera, I would’ve taken you right here. I’d press a button, just to make you squirm when you realize you have to come before someone comes in. I bet you’d like that, wouldn’t you? You like the thought of someone walking in on you being taken in an elevator like a brute.”

“I-” Sawamura blushes, looking at him in horror. “Where did that come from?! You-you and your devilish tongue-!”

“Well, you don’t get far in business without being adaptive.” He says idly, gripping the metal bar behind in with shaky hands, trying his best to not display how embarrassed he was, inwardly screaming at himself.

“Hngh…” Sawamura presses a hand to his mouth and looks away shyly. “Who’s the host here, jeez…”

When they arrive at his floor, he only allows Sawamura to say what the fuck you’re rich before he pushes him against the wall and kisses him silly. Sawamura melts into it, panting as Kazuya kissed down his neck and unbuttoned his shirt. He thumbs Sawamura’s nipples, already perky and begging to be teased.

“You just have the lewdest body don’t you…”

“It’s because it’s cold damn you!” Sawamura shouts and thumps his fist down his head.

“Pft,” Kazuya backs away, taking off his shoes and coat. “Come on then, let's get warmed up.”

They leave a stray of clothes as they make their way to Kazuya’s bathroom, giggling and pressing against each other in the shower as they wait for the bathtub to fill. Warm water cascaded on them, and their kisses were all the wetter.

He ends up fingering Sawamura again, gentler and slower. The host sighs and moans, trying his best to clean them both with his hands. He barely washes his arms before he nearly falls, knees weak. “Mm...hurry!”

“You hurry,” Kazuya teases. “Clean us up, and I’ll take you to the bathtub.”

Sawamura whines. “Fine! I’ll do it my way then!”

Sawamura’s way was, apparently, to lather himself in soap, and to grind against him. Kazuya groans as he rocks himself gently against his body, futilely trying to wash them both. He grabs one of Sawamura’s ass cheek in warning before he quickens and deepens his fingers to his knuckles.

Sawamura gaps, nearly shouting as he grinds his body to him, their cock brushing each other. “Sen-senpai!”

“Are you ready?” He murmurs, pressing a kiss to his wet hair.

“I-!” Sawamura moans. “I am but...do you want to…”

“Hm?”

“I’m just saying…” he whispers wickedly, panting. “I can make you feel good back there too…”

Kazuya clears his throat, his cock twitching at the thought. “You have to be gentle…”

“I’ll be so gentle! Sooo gentle!” Sawamura insists.

Somehow they end up lazily making out as they finger each other, parting when they hit just the right spot for each other. Sawamura’s fingers were shorter than his, but it was lithe and far too clever. He teases his rim, using his wet fingers to pry him open.

“I can’t take this anymore,” Kazuya curses. “Come on.”

They climb into the bathtub together, Kazuya sitting down and Sawamura still standing, displaying his ass to him. He looks back smugly, parting his ass to reveal his pink and swollen hole. “What do you think?”

“I think it’s made to take my cock.” Kazuya grabs him by his waist, and before he could get a word in, he licks his hole, tasting the soap they’ve been using. He enthusiastically went down at Sawamura like he was a feast, pressing his tongue inside, making lewd noises as he kissed it and fucked it open with his tongue.

“Mm! M-Miyuki!” Sawamura whines, grabbing his head and pressing him deeper. “Right there! Please!”

“Turn around.”

Sawamura groans, petulantly shifting back. “What? It was so good-!”

“I just wanted to look at you,” Kazuya smiles, pressing a kiss to the inside of his thighs, looking up at him. 

“You…” Sawamura slaps a hand over his mouth and groans. “How are you so sweet right after rimming me…”

Kazuya chuckles, the edges of his eyes crinkling. He runs his hands up and down Sawamura's thigh, and slowly guides him to sit on his lap. The water sloshes to the side, but he ignores it in favor of taking one of Sawamura's nipples to his mouth, sucking it. 

"Ah!" He moans, tangling his fingers on Kazuya's nape. "The other one too…!"

Sawamura reaches to touch his other nipple, twisting it in his hand. Kazuya groans and moves to suck it too, biting it ever so slightly. His lover gasps as he looks down at the lewd teeth mark he left.

"M-Miyuki…"

Kazuya hums, feeling somewhat possessive. He bites the other nipple too, sucking his sensitive nipple and twisting it in his hands until they're swollen, red like a flower bloom. He kisses each of them, before mouthing at Sawamura's neck, tracing back the mark he left in a hurry to deepen it.

Eventually, Sawamura impatiently takes his cock in his hand, looking at him determinedly. "I want this in me."

Kazuya's heart stupidly skips a beat. "Put it in yourself then."

"H-huh?"

Kazuya leans back against the bathtub, arms spread on the edges. He tilts his head back, taunting him. "Show me how good the number one host in Tokyo takes it."

Sawamura narrows his eyes, grabbing him by his shoulders. He leans his forehead to him, eyes set and a determined glint to it. "Don't come the moment I put it in then."

"Ha-" Kazuya smiles, only to quieten when Sawamura slowly lowers himself, holding Kazuya’s cock in one hand. He teases the head in, stroking his shaft gently. He bites his lip as he meets Kazuya’s eyes, and before he could even open his mouth, Sawamura takes him in with one swift motion.

He felt his breath knocked out of him at the tight heat around his cock. Sawamura doesn’t even pause, bouncing up and down his cock, moaning and writhing. “M-Miyuki...this position is a little…”

“A little?” He grunts, grabbing Sawamura’s waist and dragging him up and down, thrusting into him deeper. Sawamura gasps, wrapping his arm around his neck as he fucks him, the water rippling wildly from the motion.

“W-wait! It’s too deep!” Sawamura throws his head back in pleasure, grabbing onto him for dear life. “S-slow down!”

“You can take it,” Kazuya murmurs, grabbing him by his ass and lifting him up until only the head of his cock remains in Sawamura. “Or...should I just stop now?”

Sawamura whimpers, shoving him back and plunging himself back to his cock. Kazuya couldn’t help but reach out to him, kissing him deep and sloppy. They breathe into each other, breaking off in moans and curses as he fucks Sawamura relentlessly, dragging his cock on every inch of his wet heat.

When he feels close, he fucks him with renewed vigor, dragging him by his ass tight enough to bruise. He fucks Sawamura through his delirious moans, kissing away the tears pooling at the edge of his eyes. He mouths Sawamura’s wet cheek, kissing him over and over before he comes back to his lips. He licks at the bottom of his lip, smiling when Sawamura parts it readily.

He swallows down the host’s moans with the kiss, reveling in his muffled whimpers. He drags his cock out completely, just to torture Sawamura for one sweet moment, before showing his cock inside him, hitting him deeper than ever.

“M-Miyuki!” He screams, holding on to his stomach. An apparent bulge that could only be his cock protruding through it sent him over the edge.

Kazuya comes with a shout, filling him deep inside. Sawamura whimpers, stroking his own cock eagerly. He follows him not a moment later when Kazuya twists his nipple just so, sobbing as he comes all over himself.

They stayed soaked in the bathtub as they tried to catch their breath, Kazuya still buried deep inside him. Sawamura moans, leaning down to rest on his shoulders. “We’re dirty again…”

Kazuya presses a wet kiss to his forehead, running his hand down Sawamura’s back. “No point washing up now. Not for what we’re about to do.”

Sawamura stiffens in his hold, looking up at him nervously. “You can’t be ready that quickly…”

“What can I say? I’ve been so pent up after someone ravaged me.” He smirks, squeezing Sawamura’s ass pointedly.

He jumps, slapping his offending hand with a blush. “A-at least take me to bed first!”

Reluctantly, he lets them both wash up, pouting when Sawamura insists they shower separately this time. He’s laying back on his bed with nothing but a towel around his waist, fiddling with his phone as he waits for Sawamura to finish. When he walks out with an oversized bathrobe, skin flushed and hair wet, Kazuya couldn’t help but reach out to him beckoningly. 

Sawamura stood in between his legs as Kazuya gently unwrapped him, sighing as he kissed every skin he could reach. Curiously, he runs his hand down Sawamura’s ass, parting it. Sawamura whimpers as he idly strokes his finger over his hole, pressing it ever so slightly.

“Did you clean this out yourself?” Kazuya whispers. “Did you get excited, seeing all my cum drip out of you?”

“Pervert,” Sawamura mutters, though he doesn’t stop leaning into the touch, his cock already hard again. Kazuya kisses his leaking tip, taking him in his mouth. He sucks him gently, easing him back into arousal. 

Sawamura pushes him back not long after, and Kazuya slowly lets him go, a string of saliva connecting from his lips and back to the head of his cock. He smiles at Sawamura, letting his tongue loll out to reveal drips of his pre-cum before swallowing it down.

“Jesus.” Sawamura breathes out.

“Come to bed,” Kazuya murmurs, stroking his cock and kissing it reverently. “I’ll let you take me this time.”

“Yeah?” Sawamura smiles.

“Yeah. Come on.”

It took a lot more patience and lube to open Kazuya up, but Sawamura was a gentleman through and through. They laid by their sides as Sawamura opened him up, whispering soft nothings and encouragements. 

The first push was painful, enough to make him cry out. Sawamura kisses him through it, and Kazuya arches back to meet him, even though the strain. Sawamura strokes his cock through it, easing himself inside slowly until he’s fully seated inside.

The moment he murmured that he was ready, Sawamura hoisted his legs up by his knees, exposing him. He sputters as Sawamura fucks him without warning, fast and rough, slapping his hips to his ass each time he thrust inside him.

“You feel amazing, senpai,” Sawamura praises him over and over, panting to his ear. “You’re so tight...am I your first?”

“You...know...already…” He gasps, whimpering as Sawamura parts his ass and rubs his thumb to where they were connected.

“So good...going to fill you up senpai,” Sawamura groans, flipping him over without taking his cock out. Kazuya chokes at the new position as Sawamura all but climbs over him, fucking him like a dog in heat. He feels every drag of his cock, hitting that sweet spot each time and muddling his thoughts. He all but drools on his pillow as he lets out short choked out moans, desperately moving back to meet his thrust.

“S-Sawamura...please…!”

“Miyuki…” Sawamura leans over him, licking the shell of his ear. Kazuya groans, turning around to kiss him, only for the host to lean away at the last second.

He pokes his tongue out mischievously, laughing at Kazuya’s affronted look.

“Open your mouth senpai, and stick your tongue out.”

Obediently, he does as he says, flushing at the look of hunger in Sawamura’s eyes.

“So cute.” Sawamura teases, finally leaning in and kissing him, sucking the bottom of his lip. Sawamura fucks him through his second orgasm of the night, but certainly not the last. Eventually, they were exhausted and spent, sweat and spent sticking through his body.

They laid down on the bed, facing each other in a comfortable silence. Kazuya couldn’t help but keep touching Sawamura, stroking his hair and pinching his soft cheeks.

“What?” He smiles, tiredly leaning into it.

“Just...happy that you’re here with me,” Kazuya murmurs into his pillow sleepily.

Sawamura scoots closer, tucking his head under his chin. The bedroom was dark now, with no other light than the ever-bustling city life. Just then, a flash of yellow light falls over them both. Sawamura makes a concerned noise when he touches his ribs, fingers light and curious.

“Is this from…”

“Yeah, that collision I had with Seiko,” Kazuya sighs, leaning away. “It broke my rib just enough to make it scar.”

“It doesn’t hurt, does it? I thought it would be sensitive, but I didn’t think it was this bad…” Sawamura says apologetically.

“Sometimes it does,” he lies easily, sighing dramatically. “If only you’d kiss it better.”

Sawamura immediately tucks his hair back and plants a kiss on his scar, over and over as if it would heal with just his touch. Kazuya grabs him just as he makes to kiss it one more time, dragging him up to his eye level. “Well, now my lips are lonely.”

“Pft. Fine, I’ll kiss it better too.”

Gentle touches, soft and short kisses, hands that seek contact for nothing more than the comfort of knowing the other is right there, arms away.

He slept blissfully that night with Sawamura wrapped around him, his steady breath lulling him away.

He dreamt of a stadium of crowds, two golden eyes staring right at him from 60 feet away, and the sound of ocean waves.