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Pure. Seiso . These two words with similar meanings are commonly used by people to describe the way of Shu’s life. He heard the words fall out of people’s lips in a quicker succession when he was standing on the corner of a party hall, looking away from a guy’s hand against a random girl’s behind. Uki, another member of his friend group, whispers it into his ear whenever his flirtations meet Shu’s passive response. Shu doesn’t confirm nor deny it. He only does everything within his comfort zone, and oftentimes cannot be bothered to categorize his action within brackets of good or evil.
Still, there is a compass that determines a person’s action more than free will. Shu felt it tilting towards an extremity when he found himself craving for a sweet drink that would burn his tongue and warm his belly. He blames Fulgur for that, and for the divine taste of Purple Rain he mixed for his birthday a few weeks ago. Uki was animated when Shu asked him if there was any good place for a drink.
“Holy shit.” he said. “I’ll send the G-Maps link to you. Tell me when you plan to visit. I’ll keep you accompanied for your first bar experience.”
No, thank you . Shu doesn’t plan on having his drunk moments documented. Uki has an entire album of Shu’s peachy skin just from a can of Asahi and that is enough.
In conclusion, Shu is now spending his Friday night alone in a bar, seated on a stool where he has the clearest view of the bartender doing their bartending job. The chocolate martini looks appetizing on his table, although he is a little regretful to be visiting during happy hour; people come in packs and the ambience is unsalvageable. Not a big problem. Shu may be here for a good time, but he doesn’t plan on staying long—He repeats this mantra in his head until it is broken by the presence of a man; his body slips next to him soundlessly, yet his poise bites on Shu, compelling him to examine the man’s appearance and what he orders albeit none of which are his business.
By Shu’s standards, the man dresses like he expects an entertaining night. No, scratch that. He is determined to make the night entertaining . A loose-fitting button up and dress pants would have been a common combination, but there is something provocative with the way a belt-looking choker— Is it what it’s called? —decorates his neck, and a pair of fishnet gloves engulf his hands.
Shoot. The man looks his way.
“Anything’s the matter?” he asks as he settles on the seat next to Shu. He swears someone was sitting on it the last time he checked. When did the person leave?
“Nothing.” Shu averts his gaze and takes a sip on his drink. He taps a finger idly on the table while watching the bartender work their shaker through a corner of his sight. Frick . Now what? He has to occupy himself with something to dissipate this awkwardness. Something. Anything.
“Do you come here alone?” The other asks. The eyes behind his golden-rimmed glasses don’t leave Shu for a moment and Shu recalls similar scenes at the parties he had been to. Scenes where he was usually the witness.
“Yeah.” Shu says with a hand raised to his mouth. The stranger doesn’t need to see him cringe from the tinge of vodka in his drink.
“Mind if I talk with you? Just to feel less alone.”
“Why not come with friends if you don’t want to feel alone?”
“Silly. Of course to give myself reasons to talk to strangers.”
The conversation pauses when the bartender carefully places the man’s order in front of him: A lime-colored liquid in a tall, wide-mouthed glass, and a strip of orange peel perched on its rim. He mutters a “Thanks” and brings the glass to his lips. Once again, Shu’s eyes are glued on him; particularly at the loosened top two buttons of his shirt and the depth of his sternum. Shu only realizes what he is doing when his mind begins to describe the man’s complexion and quickly turns back to his martini. This sight, however, is not completely missed by the pretty stranger.
“Do you like my outfit?” He asks, but his tone is discerning.
“It’s a cool one.” Shu says. He can’t tell if it’s embarrassment or the drink that generates the heat on his face.
The man chuckles. An interesting voice. “Your hair is cool too.” He returns, fixing the orange peel on his glass. “In case you’re wondering how to address me, I’m Ike.”
So they are moving to introductions now? “I’m Shu.”
“Don’t be so tense, Shu.” Ike says, as if he is able to ferret out uncertainty in his voice. “Contrary to popular belief, people don’t talk to strangers in a bar expecting it to end with a passionate night.”
“What?” Shu retorts before the drink could free-flow into his breathing tract. “I wasn’t even thinking about that.”
“And I am jesting.” Ike’s eyes turn into a pair of half moons as he grins. When they relax again, the gentle shape returns. Shu can describe him as a cold beauty with the way Ike places an imaginary hook on him, yet keeps him at a distance—or whatever his own brain theorizes while being swamped in martini. Frick. Shu definitely doesn’t plan on staying this long or to find out what this stranger would do to him if he does.
“What is so interesting about talking with strangers?” Shu stirs his glass, having now emptied half of its content.
“The same reason you keep a conversation with me.” Ike pinches the stem of his glass and idly rolls it between his thumb and forefinger. “At first you think you can’t be bothered, but once words keep falling out of their mouth, you grow intrigued. You begin to dig, at first just through a surface, but give it an hour and suddenly you have their story. Strangers have that effect on me.”
“I see.” Shu mumbles. Voices start to form an echo in his ears. What kind of story does Ike want from him?; he is almost convinced he has blurted out those words when Ike rests his elbow on the table and starts to hum.
“I can somewhat tell that you don’t originally drink for fun. Do you want to start with that?”
“I just feel like it.” Which is the dull answer Shu opts for whenever people question his unusual behavior. He does not think it is wrong since he can feel it in himself the way his morality fluctuates. He does not find it necessary to go to a bar for a drink, but he does not omit the possibility of it becoming an option of how he is going to spend his Friday night, like right now. His feelings pushed him to choose this option. “Don't you sometimes want to do things that are out of pocket?”
“You're right.” Ike swivels on his stool in Shu's direction and only then Shu realizes that at the end of those crossed legs are a pair of high-heeled boots adorning the pretty stranger's feet.
Shu holds his breath. What the heck. Those are hot.
“Thanks. I know they are.”
“Ah.” Shoot. This time, the words did fall out of his lips. Ike giggles loudly like it would humor him for the rest of the night.
“You’re a lot more honest when you’re drunk, hm?” The slow jazz, the gentle purr in Ike’s voice drowns the shuffling when he inches closer towards Shu. It makes his movement eerie, as if Ike is a mirage produced by the deepest desire Shu doesn’t know he has in him.
“I’m not drunk.” Definitely tipsy, but not drunk although the alcohol starts to double his vision. When he stares into Ike’s citrine irises, Shu tries to make sure he is indeed looking into a pair of human eyes, not the moon and its reflection over the sea.
“Whatever you say.” Ike smiles into his glass as he takes another sip on his drink. His eyelashes flutter when looking into the liquid and his throat bobs for each gulp. Suddenly the idea of spending a night with a pretty man sounds less indecent and more thrilling. Suddenly Shu would love to curse albeit it’s strange that swearing still doesn’t make it into the list of out of pocket things to do. But curse Ike and his beauty. Curse his desire to be held in the man's arms.
The glow of purple sears him from his hindsight and that is how Ike is able to tell that Shu does not look away from him this time. Almost like a poor soul who has fallen into a maze and hopes to find a way out in him.
“Tell me, Shu. What’s the dumbest thing you’ve ever done in your life?” A gloved hand slides across the table to reach Shu’s naked wrist, a subtle touch yet imbued with flattery.
Shu swears he has done many dumb things in his younger days but the spinning of his head prevents him from probing into his memories for an answer. “I don’t know. Staying in a bar until after two in the morning?” A wiser, sober Shu would probably say: letting the buzz in his stomach speak for him, letting a stranger charm him this way, and letting himself step closer to a gate of unknown destination.
“Well, I think we’re about to do something much dumber. Together.” Ike gives him a lopsided smile. Shu doesn’t feel like guessing what it means, because Ike doesn’t leave him in question. “What do you think about sleeping with a guy you’ve just met?”
“Never done that before.” The question would have normally surprised Shu out of his seat but the shine on Ike’s glasses and the heat of his fingers on his skin keeps him glued into the conversation. Right now, Shu senses himself resonating with the man in similar frequency. They are two pendulums swinging in tandem. They are the pair of sounds of a single heartbeat.
“Do you want to try?”
“I don’t know if I would like it.” But Shu doesn’t resist when he has Ike’s weight on his thighs and doesn’t think of pulling away when his breath warms his philtrum.
“There’s no telling if you don’t let yourself have a taste.” Ike rests his hands on Shu’s shoulders. The intention becomes clear through the angle of his head. Shu has his nails pressed on the table as their lips mold together. He feels nylon on his jawline, teeth on his lips; movements so systematic as if he has countless experiences of similar encounters. Meanwhile, Shu doesn’t think he has ever slipped his hands under someone’s shirt, be it accidental or not.
What’s the dumbest thing you’ve ever done? Shu bets that Ike’s answer would always be a good start of a long conversation.
Much to his own shame, Shu is clumsy with his tongue. Ike notices it from the way Shu’s tongue prods into Ike’s mouth but backs out when he’s unsure, as if it works the same as dipping your toes to test the water. Both of Ike’s hands clutch on Shu’s cheeks to allow him no space to retract himself. It is his turn to put his tongue into play, lapping into Shu’s mouth, counting the enamels of his teeth, forcing Shu to close his eyes and drown into Ike’s breath.
And it tastes like absinthe, a bit of lemon, and a hint of licorice. If Shu recalls correctly, Ike was drinking something called “Corpse Reviver”. The thought of it puts a grin on Shu’s mouth while Ike is busy nipping on his lips. Their teeth clash, and Shu can hear his own surprised gasp.
“Are my glasses on the way?” Ike pulls away, giving the other a space to catch his breath.
“No.” Shu’s voice reduces to a whisper. His throat is dry but his lips are wet. He has to urge to lick them when Ike is looking. Maybe he is starting to like the flavor.
Ike’s lips stretch into a soft grin. “Don't you think we should continue somewhere private?”
“Anywhere nearest.” Shu doesn’t like the impatience in his voice.
Ike lives for it. “I know a good room to rent.”
They walk down the somber hallway of a hotel together. The smell of common air freshener fills Shu’s nostrils and he tries to ignore it by matching his footsteps with the rhythm Ike creates on his heels, albeit the sounds are muddled by the raging flow of blood in his ears. If he is about to do something stupid, he hopes he won’t be sober soon.
Shu closes the door behind him and yellow light blinds him as soon as Ike inserts the keycard into the slot on the wall. Ike giggles at the noise Shu made. “You’re right. It kinda kills the mood when it’s too bright.”
That is not even what Shu bemoaned but Ike removes the keycard quicker than his lips could speak and their room is dim again with only the hotel’s neon sign illuminating it through the window.
“Alright.” Ike says with a mix of a sigh. He slides a hand to the small of Shu’s back and gently guides him to the bed, moving so indolently as if he is uninterested in anything else. Anything else but the man under his touch. “How do you want it?”
How do I want it? Shu thinks as he is made to sit on the edge of the mattress. He tries to imagine Ike’s hands on him, the friction of fishnets down his skin, and their bodies swaying in the dark. Has he ever thought about the human touch so rapturously?
“Kiss me again.” Shu reaches for Ike’s sleeves, thumbing the light material. “We can move along as we go.”
Ike hums. Not a single word when he has himself seated on Shu’s thighs and kisses him again. Shu reciprocates the movement readily, swollen petals of red slot against each other. He nips and sucks and prods his tongue, learning the dance Ike showed him earlier. The glasses man’s weight pins him to the bed but their lips remain in vigor. Shu tightens his arms around Ike’s waist, and opens his mouth to welcome his tongue. The wet muscle tickles the roof of his mouth and his inner cheek, but somehow he feels it in his belly, dangerously close to his genitals. Ike’s hands do not spare his nerves at all as they travel a distance from his chest to hips. Then, as though having a button of bliss pushed, a press of thumb against Shu’s groin coaxed an echo of gasps out of him.
“Ah,” Ike looks down. “You’re excited.”
Shu gurgles in embarrassment when the other starts to palm the growing bulge, smoothing his hand over it before he reaches the button of his jeans.
“Can I?” He teases the button between his fingers.
“Yeah.” Shu rasps, keeping his hands on his sides. There is no resistance, no hesitation from him at all when Ike tugs down his jeans. The fabric audibly falls to the floor along with his shoes and Ike does the same for himself. Shu has to thank him for not deliberately stripping his lower body, though. But that also means there is still a long way to go before they get to the highlight.
“Look at you. You’re red all over.” Ike shuffles to the bed, crawling with Shu’s body between his legs.
“There’s no way—” Shu’s breath hitches when their clothed cock brushes against each other. “There’s no way you can tell.” It must be the neon light. Ike chuckles. Shu notices the dismissive tone in it as if he had simply heard a child’s babbling.
“Your face is heating up.” Little hairs rise on Shu’s skin when the man thumbs his face and he chews on his lip when Ike kisses his cheek wetly. He is still not used to doing this; how can he focus on multiple sensations at once? Ike with his mouth dragged along his skin and his hips gently grinding on his cock. Shu finds his knees twitching when they roll particularly deep and exhales like he had forgotten to breathe.
“Haah..” Puffs of hot air curl into Shu’s neck where Ike is resting his head. His hips don’t stop moving with his hands on Shu’s shoulders acting as a leverage. Ike can see Shu’s jaws clench and unclench, the hasty rise and fall of his chest, the bob on his throat. “Hands on my hips, Shu.. Yes, that’s right. Are you feeling good? You have to speak more for me.”
“It feels good..” They are just grinding so slowly but pleasure gnaws at Shu that he starts clawing on Ike’s hips, rhythmic to the push and pull. Being too embarrassed to look at Ike, Shu chooses to center his sight on the thin, swaying chain on Ike’s choker. “Can we.. Can we take them off now?”
Ike hums, returning to a seating position to tug down the hem of Shu’s underwear. The erection springs almost immediately towards its owner’s belly and in a glimpse, Ike catches the sight of a string of viscosity before it snaps into nothingness. “Aww,” coos Ike, “you’re leaking already. I guess that’s why you’re being squirmish.”
Shu rubs his hands on his face, muffling a sheepish groan. Ike is quick to take off his own briefs as well and Shu chokes on surprise when he feels a firm cock against his own; Ike is also hard. With them being side by side, Shu fails to neglect the slight difference of size and complexion. Fuck. This is real. He's looking at a stranger's cock.
“Bite on.” orders Ike when he has a finger pressed on Shu's lips. “Not my finger. My glove.”
With the material fixed between Shu's teeth, Ike retracts his hand and the glove comes off at once. Shu doesn't know what to do with it now, but it makes a good object to gnaw on when Ike's naked hand begins stroking their cock.
“Mmgh..!”
“So wet.” Ike drawls, hot hand rubbing the two erections at once, intermittently thumbing on the reddened tips. His wrist twists a few times to coat Shu's precum on his own. “You leaked so much it's enough to lube us two.”
“F-Fu— Mmh!” The stroking continues. His skin feels hot. Shu can no longer tell the difference between the heat generated from Ike's hand and his arousal. Ike moans as he palms their heads and Shu starts to kick his feet in the air. The pinching in his belly intensifies, throwing Shu's head to a side where he can hide his expression into the blanket. “Ike..”
The man stops. Shu pants, inhaling the scent of clean sheets with it. In the dark, another hand gently rubs his stomach. Shu starts to feel sick of the nylon on his skin that he blindly reaches for it and strips it off of Ike's hand. The sight amuses the latter.
“Can you touch me again, please?” Shu brings Ike's hand up to his chest, holding it there like it would help him ground himself. Quite endearing.
“Of course, Sweetheart.” The words are laced with cheshire grin. When Shu expects a wet hand on his cock again, Ike surprises him with tips of his fingers pressing his taint, an area where Shu anticipates his touch the least.
“What are you— Ah!” Shu’s hips jump up, loudly gasping when fingers begin to trace the periphery of his anus. Ike giggles when the sphincter twitches under his touch, and continues examining Shu's flushed face and gaping mouth.
“You haven't ever been touched here, have you?”
“I haven't..” Shu pants, a knee jerking up when Ike teasingly prods a finger inside. "N-No, wait!” He starts up with a burst of worry in his chest, halting Ike’s hand.
“Oh.” Ike blinks at Shu. “Sorry, I really wasn’t about to push it in without lube.” He clarifies while gently petting along Shu’s jaw with his cleaner hand. After Shu’s expression softens, he helps the man fix his position further up to the bed, and plants a chaste kiss on his lips. “Don’t worry, I’ll lube you up a generous amount before stretching you.” Shu juts out his lower lip at the coquettish tone of his voice. It brings out a laughter from Ike as the man rummages for a packet of lube from the bedside drawer, only with the help of a sliver of magenta light.
When the man is busy ripping open the packet, it dawns to Shu that he didn’t touch Ike all that much and begins to feel guilty for the lack of reciprocation.
“Ike.”
“Yeah?”
“Can– Ngh!” The sensation of cold lube on skin interrupts him. “Can you lean down a bit? I want to touch you.”
Ike coos fondly. It almost made Shu regret requesting it in the first place. “Of course. Do whatever you like.”
Shu reaches for Ike’s nape as his body closes and gathers their lips together into a gentle kiss. While their lips move against each other, his hands smooths along Ike’s neck, to his collarbone, until his fingers reach the buttons of his shirt where Shu slowly undresses him. He can make out the shape of Ike’s grin on his mouth, the taste of his tongue, and they almost distract him from Ike’s fingers on his behind, carefully swirling on the periphery of his hole until he whispers: “Relax for me.”
Shu gasps into Ike’s mouth when the first digit enters his hole, twisting and prodding against the wall of his rectum in an attempt to stretch the opening, a sensation so strange that he doesn’t think all of his noises are made out of pleasure.
“You’re okay.” Ike’s lips brush against Shu’s as he speaks. He continues to kiss the man underneath him to divide his attention from any discomfort. “I’m gonna slowly put the second finger. Tell me if it hurts.”
Shu nods, mouth too preoccupied to answer verbally. Ike’s middle finger attempts to fit into the lumen at a slow pace. The stretch stings and Shu hisses. That is when Ike stops his movement.
“I’m okay. Just put it in slowly.” And when Ike gives him a look, Shu continues: “I can handle it. Please.”
“Cute.” Ike mumbles when he puts his fingers back to work, which fails to grasp Shu’s attention as the man underneath him begins letting himself loose; hands traveling across his torso, from chest to back, while his mouth nips on Ike’s skin like he has found a flavor he liked. He finds it especially adorable when Shu tries to kiss his neck despite the barricade of his choker, and oh, this asshole . He definitely knows what he is doing with his nails tracing down Ike’s spine. The latter arches his back and sighs.
After adding the third digit, the fingers hasten inside Shu, massaging the slickened walls and alternating it with gentle pressure towards Shu’s belly as if searching for a particular switch in his body. The action confuses Shu as it encloses an intent that he has not yet understood, but it becomes as clear as Ike’s grin when he yelps loudly into the former’s chest.
“W-Wha— Ahhng..!”
“That’s your prostate.” explains Ike while he continues to massage his fingers on the gland. “Doesn’t it feel good?” He maintains a relaxed tone as if the pretty man squirming and whimpering underneath him doesn’t stir the lust in him.
“Nngh.. Ike..! O-oh— Aah.. Ah!” moans the man with his arms tightly wrapped around Ike. The truth is, Ike wants to punch more of those melodious noises out of Shu, but his patience runs thin and his cock starts to wish for its autonomy.
“Be familiar with the feeling, Shu, because I will be bullying it some more with my cock.”
“Hhaa..?” Shu responds with confusion apparent on his flushed face. The sensation is stripped away from him when Ike removes his fingers and occupies himself with the half-empty packet of lube. He watches Ike coat himself with the viscosity, stroke himself to fuller erection, and align himself with Shu’s body. “Mmh..” He twitches when he feels the tip of Ike’s cock pressing against his anus. Clearly, Ike should be bigger than three fingers. Shu hastily reaches for one of his arms to beg: “Slowly, please..?”
“I will.” Ike places both his hands on the space on each side of Shu’s head, caging him with his body. “Hold onto me if you need to.” and Shu does, by positioning his hands on Ike’s shoulder blades at once. Their eyes meet and it feels like almost forever since the last time Shu actually paid attention to his moon-like eyes; cold yet gentle, like he could be devoured by the angel of death any time soon but he would be forever grateful for it. It goes on for a few seconds until Ike opens his mouth.
“Ah, sorry.” He gently undoes Shu’s hold from him. “Wait for a moment.” Ike reaches for the buckle on his choker and loosens it from his neck with so much dexterity that Shu can tell that he wears it quite often. The leather leaves a ring of red on the skin it rested on; the sight distracts Shu for a second until he notices that Ike approaches his neck with the choker on his hands.
Shu makes a confused noise but it does not take long for the choker to be secured on his neck. Ike slides a finger in between it to test its snugness and hums in satisfaction.
“Now you look a lot more like mine.”
What?
“Shall we continue?”
“Yeah..” Shu rasps. His mind is still preoccupied with Ike’s words earlier while Ike resumes to their previous position; Shu’s hands on him, and his cock in between Shu’s ass. The intrusion feels sudden despite all the attempts to ready himself and Shu keens as the shaft slowly enters him.
Ike stops. “Are you okay?”
“Don’t stop.” Shu presses his ankles on Ike’s hips, as though urging his body to slot further up. Ike gets the code and continues pushing himself into Shu, groaning at the tight, warm sheath around his cock. It squeezes his erection and friction feels apparent every time he inches deeper into Shu.
“God, fuck, Shu–” Ike gasps when Shu tightens around him. “Relax a little for me? I don’t want you to hurt yourself.”
“Sorry.” Shu whispers and releases a lengthy puff of breath. As expected, he has been holding his breath the whole time.
“Deep breaths.” Ike instructs, knees buried onto the mattress for better control while his hand gently cups Shu’s face. Warmth bursts on Shu’s cheek and he starts to take slower breaths. “Good boy.”
“Mmm..” whines Shu when Ike begins peppering kisses on his jaw. He wants Ike in him so bad. He wants him to pry him open while treating him so gently. How long has he been simmering in lust? He wants the cold beauty back because he might not be able to return from all of this tenderness after it ends. He wants to remember the time when he didn't belong here.
“I’ll move again, Shu.” warns Ike.
“Please, please just put it in..” urges Shu, grabbing onto Ike’s wrists. “Put all of you in me.. I’m okay, I swear—”
“Calm down, Baby.” Ike mutters, leaning close to Shu’s ear where he can nuzzle his temple. “I’m already halfway in. You didn’t realize that because you’ve been listening to me, correct?”
Shu nods. He has. He really has. The pulses in his tummy reminds him that Ike has been holding back. They both want the same thing: to give in to a dawn’s comfort, treat each other’s body as their own, disregarding everything outside of their space.
“Good boy.” Ike repeats, but the trill in his voice is different. It promises Shu a good time, just like the moment he saw him for the first time back in the boisterous club. This is not an occasion where Shu would find himself doing good, but for now, he believes Ike; he’s doing something wonderful for the both of them. “I’m putting it in.”
And Ike shoves himself completely into Shu, dislodging a gasp out of his throat. Ike is inside him. He can feel his size making a space in his body. There is tension in his stomach as if his body is trying to reject the intruder but no, no, no . Shu wants him.
“Fuck, so warm..” Ike growls, gently rolling his pelvis against Shu as if he can go any deeper than this.
“Fuck me,” pleads Shu with his arms wrapped around Ike, “fuck me please..”
Ike chuckles while letting his shirt slide off of his body; the air has gotten hotter and the fabric became limiting.
“Why are you laughing? You said you’re going to bully my..” Shu trails off, somehow finding it embarrassing to finish his sentence.
“I know. I just think you’re cute.” Ike plants another kiss on Shu’s forehead. “Fair enough. You asked for it.”
Shu gulps on his saliva. There it is, the ice in Ike’s eyes. Shu is too mesmerized by them to notice the movement of Ike’s hips. They retract away from Shu’s body before slamming in, knocking his ass with his hips.
“Ah!” Shu squeals, immediately throwing his head to the side in an attempt to hide his expression. He doesn’t expect him to go this deep. He feels Ike’s cock hammering his belly in successions; so this is what having sex is like? His embarrassingly virgin ass thinks. “Ah– Ike..! H-Haah..! Mmh..!”
“My, you’re loud.” Ike smiles down at Shu, watching his desperate attempt to claw the blanket towards his face. He will never understand why blankets are tucked so tightly under hotel mattresses. “That’s the way I like it, though. Keep making noises for me.”
And Ike never stops just as promised. His hips slap against Shu, producing obscene noises of skin and fluid. He curses when Shu clenches and unclenches around him, either from pleasure or nervousness, but it becomes Ike’s bait to start reeling for his own gratification.
“Hnngh.. Ike..?” Shu moans when Ike folds his body in half. His kneecaps are now pressed against his own shoulders with Ike’s body as a weight to keep the position. Shu feels himself completely spread and exposed, although he is the only person among them with his shirt still intact.
Ike begins to thrust again. The sensation hits differently in this angle; deeper, rougher, and clubbing him in all the right places that Shu cries out from bursts of stimulation. Ike evidently did not bluff earlier; his cock is bullying his prostate in a way that Shu is sure that Ike did not have just one or two experiences with this. He knows the right angle and tempo, the right words to say, and the right buttons to push for Shu to feel like he is being held like a lover and not a stranger he just picked up from a bar. The last thought sounds so much like a dangerous zone to enter that Shu shuts it out immediately.
“Ike.. Ike..! T-Too good– Mmph..!” Shu pants with his eyes squeezed shut. His body bounces to Ike’s control, erection slapping against his belly only to be constantly reminded that he might climax any time soon. He squeezes around Ike particularly when the pleasure gets too much and Ike somewhat gets the hint. “Ike, I—”
“Oh, I know, Baby.” Ike purrs and lifts the hem of Shu’s shirt with the tip of his finger, tugging it up to Shu’s collarbone. “But I’d like to take my time, because these,” a yelp from shu when he teases a nipple with his nail, “are looking really cute.”
“What are you doing?” whines Shu when Ike slows down just to roll his thumbs on the pink nubs. He watches the lithe fingers tease and pinch; never did he have so much attention on his nipples that he finds it a strange phenomenon when he feels sparks of arousal as the pad of fingers rub them a certain way. “N-No, please..” The nubs grow firm from stimulation and Shu’s hips begin to twitch, whimpering as the surge of pleasure reaches his cock, as if connected by a string.
“So you’re sensitive here too.” concludes Ike. “Do you like the way it feels? I can see your cock twitching every time I pinch them.”
“It feels weird..” Shu whines, tugging onto Ike’s wrists. “No more, pleasee..”
Ike giggles, endeared by the man’s pleading expression. “Alright, alright.” he removes his hands from Shu’s chest and places them on the back of Shu’s knees. This time, he is pinning the limbs down, their positions completely readjusted with Shu’s ass facing the ceiling. “I’m just showing you what to do with your hands if you want that extra pleasure.”
“Can you please just fuck me again?”
“Feisty.” Ike retains a smile albeit being thrown with a complaint.
When Ike pounds him again this time, Shu can tell there will be no more stopping. His hips go faster beyond the capacity Shu imagined from Ike; not a single break for his body, plowing his prostate like it is the only thing his cock recognizes, and filling Shu’s ears with wet noises from where their bodies connect. If Shu did not believe Ike could go any deeper, he is proven wrong. This renewed vigor pushes him even faster towards the climax. His cock throbs, so are his nipples where he can still feel the ghost of Ike’s touch. Ike was right, he would like this—screw him for being right. Screw him for understanding his body more than himself.
“Fuuck..” drawls Ike as he watches Shu bring up his fingers to tease his own areolas. He pinches and pulls on his nipples, moans at the sensitivity while Ike continuously whispers curses from above him. “Fuck, Baby, you keep clenching around me every time you do that.” And Shu ignores Ike’s agony. His fingers switch up to quick flicks across his nipples where he gasps and keens at his own ministrations.
“Mmm.. I’m close..!” Shu whimpers but his fingers do not stop until a thrust of Ike’s cock opens a gate of flood that washes over Shu’s sanity. His toes curl as he tightens himself around Ike and his hands reach up to claw on the sheets, trying to ground himself despite the uncontrollable jolting of his hips and stars in his eyes. Translucent liquid spatters out of his cock and onto his belly to mark his first orgasm, but Ike doesn’t show any signs of stopping. “Ike.. Ike.. Please..! T-Too much..!”
“Sorry, Shu. Just a little bit more, I promise.” Ike pants, a hand on Shu’s cheek to soothe him. The man beneath him sobs with his eyes glowing under the light of day. Only then Ike realizes how long they have been going at it. “Where do you want me to cum? I need your answer.”
“Anywhere.. Anywhere is fine..”
Ike unmounts himself from Shu and the latter sighs as the change of position allows him to breathe better. With a pair of dazed, teary eyes, he watches Ike stroke his cock with vigor. Growls and gasps echo towards the ceiling as he finally ejaculates onto Shu’s belly, mixing his cum with Shu’s before he slows down his fist to a halt.
As if having all of his life force sucked out, Ike falls onto Shu with a loud sigh, ignoring the sweat and smell of sex oozing out of them. Shu, however, squirms underneath him, being hyper-aware of the stickiness on their bellies. Ike chuckles. “Sorry, I need this.” He mumbles against Shu’s cheek, nose pressed to his skin like he wants to fill every surface of him with Shu. “Nothing beats a cuddling session after a good sex—Well, at least that is my opinion. Hope I didn’t give you a horrible time?”
“..Not really.” Shu does not want to consider the plausibility of orgasm knocking the inebriation out of him but embarrassment bubbles up in him after hours of being suppressed with pure impulse. Crap. He really has done it, hasn’t he?
“Ah, ah. Look at me.” With a finger tucked under his choker, Ike maneuvers Shu to turn his head over to face him. Shu completely forgets the existence of the band of leather on his neck and dreads to know that Ike now possesses some sort of imaginary leash on him. “Look at me and say it again?”
Shu grumbles. The tips of their noses touch and Ike is still just as pretty without alcohol blurring his sight. “It’s not bad..” Prudence clogs his throat as he speaks. He could’ve praised Ike more for making his first time enjoyable, but he would not feel like himself. Not that he has been himself throughout the past few hours. Shu still has doubts that the palpable warmth of a human body on him and the venereal scent engulfing them to be part of reality.
“Not bad is good enough.” Ike smiles generously before gently peeling himself off of Shu. “I really made a mess out of you, though. Let’s clean up.”
“..Yeah.”
Finally being unclouded from lust, Shu’s mind is constantly preoccupied with methods to carry on from this event. He thinks of Uki and his wild nights, and tries to guess what he usually does after he wakes up in the arms of his hookups. It will truly snow during the summer if Shu really refers to Uki like some sort of guidebook to get through his life, but no one else he knows seems to be wiser in a lesson of being thick-faced.
Alas, a warm shower doesn’t help him think at all. All he is doing is just watching himself run in circles inside his skull cavity while sprinkles of water rains on him. Ike is right behind him, scrubbing his scalp while he waits for his turn to use the showerhead. Shu decides to do nothing about Ike, do nothing about the pulses of attraction that grows in him, though he may regret his actions after the sun rises; not because he regrets losing his virginity to Ike, but he regrets losing it to a complete stranger. This bliss could be his first and last, and at the end of the day, Shu will be just another stroke to Ike’s tally.
“Your turn, Ike.” Shu says, exiting the shower stall.
“Thanks.”
Shu does whatever the hell he wants. He does whatever he normally does, stumbles for a moment, and gets back on it again. The true question is: Can Ike ever be part of his “normal”?
Shu wakes up to yellow light and the faint smell of tobacco. The weight of the hotel blanket reminds him of where he is and he shifts to his side to witness an empty space next to him.
Has Ike left? Shu drowsily looks around and spots Ike’s glasses, folded atop the small coffee table in the room. Somehow it relieves him, but the evident soreness of his hips becomes a new problem and he swears one of his joints creaks audibly when he tries to put on his jeans.
Shu peers into the empty bathroom and shifts his gaze next towards the balcony where he finds Ike, standing with his gaze out towards the sky. Between them stands a glass door that separates them; the morning sky and a dim room, a wanderer and a dweller. His hand hesitates on its way to reach the handle, wondering his own aptitude to face Ike again so early and rechecking the available topics to start within the shelves in his mind. But Ike finds him faster when he turns his head to the door, as if he has expected Shu’s presence from behind it.
Ike’s smile glows under the sun and Shu can almost see the words “Come hither” from the crease on his lips. When the door slides open, Shu is instantly hit with the scent of tobacco, sneezes into his elbow a couple of times before he joins the man on the balcony.
“Shit, do you have asthma or some sort?” Ike outstretches his arm away from Shu where a cigarette rests between his two fingers. “Sorry, sorry, I’ll put it out–”
“No, no. I’m okay.” Shu places a hand on Ike’s shoulder, bewildered by his tact. “It’s just a smell I’m not used to. Never really had a smoker friend.”
Ike turns to look at him.
“Or acquaintances.” adds Shu.
“Fair enough.” Ike breaks into a smile, although he would still hold on for a moment before returning to his cigarette again.
“I didn’t know you’re a smoker. You don’t smell like one to me.” Shu rests his elbows on the railings of the balcony, looking up and afar towards the landscape of the city before his eyes; a man dressed in tracksuit on his morning jog, a moving train that carries packs of salarymen, and an elderly bicycling down the street. Shu has never been a morning person to ever witness the things humanity does at the beginning of a new day.
Ike snorts, flicking a thumb on the butt of his cigarette to remove its excess ashes. “The last time I smoked was last year.”
Shu knits his eyebrows, shooting daggers at the burning stick of tobacco. “Then why start again now?”
Ike shrugs, bringing the cigarette butt closer to his lips. “My lips itched for something as soon as I woke up. Had to get some from a kiosk down in the lobby.”
“You could’ve just gotten a candy.”
Ike chuckles, clouds of smoke escape his mouth along with his breath. “Disappointed?”
“No.” But Shu tries to digest the emotions floating in his chest. When you have been living in righteousness, why choose a path that destroys you? Though after what transpired in the club and this melancholic hotel room, Shu understands that he is not at all different from Ike. Sometimes there is just an itch to do bad, and for people with a strong conscience like him, they accumulate virtues to exchange with a guiltless misbehavior. Like stuffing a dozen donuts into your mouth during cheat day. Like holding a drinking party after years of being sober. Like letting a stranger fuck you after being a virgin for twenty-five years.
The last puff of smoke dances in the air. Ike presses the fire of his cigarette against the railing, putting it out with a few twists before trashing it into the bin. Looking anywhere, there really isn’t a single ashtray on sight. “We’re probably not allowed to smoke here to begin with.” Ike says, stepping back into the room, picking up his glasses and fixing them on the bridge of his nose. “But well, each of us sin. And we only choose the kind of sin we dare to do.”
The scent of tobacco lingers each time Ike speaks. Shu does not find it distasteful. In fact, it would create one hell of a memory in his mind. One that will haunt him when he finally lies down on his own bed tonight.
“Bye, Shu.” The man says before they part ways. “We’ll see each other again when we do.”
“Bye.” Shu waves weakly as Ike turns away. He wonders if Ike could hear his voice as it dies rather quickly in his throat. No exchange of numbers. Knowing nothing about each other except for their first names. Knowing nothing except Shu, who was a virgin less than twenty-four hours before, and Ike, who used to not smoke. Fate would have to step up its game if it wants to bring them together again in this city full of people.
It feels like a journey into somewhere foreign when Shu finds himself in a cab on the way home. He arrives at the building when noon is high, toes off his shoes without a single mind, and steps into his apartment. The smell of home fills him and Shu hopes it will cleanse him from the feeling of getting lost in an entirely different universe.
He stares blankly upon his hallway, thoughtlessly pats on his jean pockets until he palpates onto something and stops on his tracks. He shoves a hand into the pocket and fishes something out, muttering “No way”s until he sees that it is indeed Ike’s choker on the palm of his hand, and a piece of print that turns out to be a business card.
Ike Eveland
Novelist
“Hendrik Caulfield is an ex-murderer who tries to start his life anew in a society he had been detached from. However, years confined in jail have distorted his perception of what’s acceptable.”
The novel written by Ike Eveland, “Thus We’re One”, is approximately the length of Herman Hesse’s “Demian”, which is just the amount of word count that Shu could handle back in his high school years. It may take him a couple of days to finish if he is particularly inclined to it, though, he begins calculating the odds of him purchasing a novel as a non-reader. But considering that he is currently inside a bookstore for the first time in what feels like a year, making a home for one book in his shelf does not seem to be an unfeasible situation.
Shu smooths his hand again on the cover and thinks about Ike. He thinks about the choker on his neck, and the business card in his wallet. His words from one month ago echoes again.
“Now you look a lot more like mine.”
Assumptions spiral in Shu’s mind to entail the words. Ike must have been jesting. They must be the words provoked from a spur of passion. They meant nothing. Ike just decided he didn’t want his choker anymore. The answer is only a call away to the numbers printed in black on his business card, but he shakes the idea away every time it appears.
Shu exhales. He has been standing in this section of the bookstore for thirty minutes, but his eyes do not stop moving from one paragraph to the next. The first chapter is over and he turns to the next. This time, he slows down.
Ivana Maxwell lives on the fourth floor of this neighborhood’s cheap apartment. I come to deliver her package once every few months. Sometimes I want to strike up a conversation like my coworkers do and ask what she is ordering so often just out of curiosity, but I do not want to trespass. I say trespass because I can see an invisible but tangible barrier in between us, and when I notice the point of my shoes breaching through it, I will hear an alarm going off in my ears. It is the exact same noise that I used to hear so often during my days in prison.
Surprisingly, it is Ivana herself who begins our exchange. I guess she believes we have met enough times for her to start talking about her purchases.
“I ordered so many books that I think I would have to build a new bookshelf by next month.” Ivana’s long lashes are always caked up with black mascara and they completely veil over her blue eyes whenever she looks down at her parcel. Would it be normal if I ask her to stop putting so much of it?
“What kind of books do you read?” I ask.
“Murder mysteries.” Ivana looks at me as if she wants to gauge my reaction. “Even better if the murderer wins at the end of the story.”
Shu snaps the book shut and rubs his nape as though someone had poured cold water on him. In his hand, the book flips and turns, as if he is still weighing whether or not he will bring it to the counter. Somehow, Shu doesn’t find it strange for Ike to write stories where evil takes over the good, despite Ike, as a person, is probably one of the nicest strangers he has ever met.
It becomes a worthy question for the most curious of minds: What is the purpose of creating a world where tyranny prevails over justice? What kind of message is he trying to get across?
What is Ike trying to say when he left his choker in his jean pocket?
Shu smacks the copy to his forehead. His mind has to shut the fuck up. There could be answers if he just reads the goddamn novel, and maybe for once, he can stop thinking about Ike as a one night stand and more of a novelist that he is.
In his deep contemplation, Shu fails to notice the gentle approach of a man with his heels muffled by the carpet, sliding to his side smoothly just like a moment on that lively night in the club. Determined to never let him forget the eventful break of dawn.
“You’ve been looking at it for quite a while now.”
The ambient music turns mute, and the bustling disappears as though swallowed to another dimension. Shu turns to the source of a familiar voice and finds out for once that sometimes the universe is not on his side for what could possibly be a good reason. The needle to his compass ticks like a minute hand. The answer now lies before his eyes in the form of a man with cloudy sky for a hair and honeyed irises behind a pair of glasses.
“I can help you go through the story, if you wish.”
“Wouldn’t it be nice if changing one’s self is as simple as removing one’s heart and shoving it into another’s body cavity?”
“But you can’t.” Ivana says, arguing against my imagination with the confidence I could never have. “Conscience plagues you like disease. It’s in your blood. In your skin. Removing your conscience means killing yourself.”
“Then, what can I do?” I ask again, my thumbs shaking as I press them together.
“You don’t have to do a thing.” Ivana smiles. “We are not made to be right.”
END.