(Aoba is at Club Penance, in hopes to catch a sight alike the one he had when he first came. They were beautiful to stare at, and quite frankly, it's been lonely. Hell's taken him from the best time of his life, considering he had gotten kissed by a pair of incestuous twins and well. That is any sixteen year old's fantasy, isn't it?
He just wasn't expecting to suddenly have a vibrator up his ass. Thankfully, it's not a big one, a little bullet that's tucked right under his prostate, but considering the fact that he's never had anything up there before, Aoba just thinks there's some discomfort in the area - he feels too good to worry, though. There's just something about this place that makes him happy, and he can't quite put a finger on what it may be. Perhaps the titties? Ah, but they're covered up this time around.
Aoba will order a non-alcoholic caramel apple martini, and he happily sips until his eyes fall upon the blonde hair he's been avoiding. What is that remote in his hands for...?)
[Aoba may have wandered into the adult section of Club Penance hoping for tits, but despite Masaomi's reputation with the opposite sex, he's entered this debauchery den for one thing and one thing only: work. An information broker needs information, after all, and as Izaya's gopher, he's got to obtain some every once in a while. By now, he's gotten pretty friendly with one of the demon strippers, a bubbly succubus with a thing for younger guys.
Does Izaya know all this? Probably. Masaomi assumes it's why Izaya asks him to exchange info with her rather than doing it himself.
He's not all that interested in telling Aoba any of this. If he did, he'd have to explain not only Izaya's presence in hell but the fact that he's working for the bastard. His lips purse around the glass he's been pretending to drink from for half an hour now. He hasn't swallowed a drop of it. Yeah, he definitely doesn't want to tell Aoba.]
At least I almost fit in here. How have they not kicked you out? [He snarks instead, poking idly at the strange remote he'd found in the pocket of his new coat. Can he call it his new coat? Well, seeing as the whole outfit had magically replaced what he'd been wearing when he entered the club, he can now.] I really didn't think I'd see you here again.
Please. You don't look as young as I do, but certainly, you're giving yourself way too much credit.
(He even has baby fat still, who's he trying to fool? Certainly not Aoba, but he's in too much of a good mood to pick a fight, so this time, his words come out with a less deceitful smile - he feels good, and his eyes close as he moves to take a sip of his non-alcoholic drink.)
I thought you were keeping tabs on me, weren't you? Doing a poor job if this is so unexpected.
[Who's he trying fool? Himself, most days. Sigh and bother.
He's tempted to get up and leave, but something about the atmosphere of the club today feels too cozy to abandon. It's why he's still here despite that his meeting with the stripper had been cut short. He'd much rather sit and people watch here than have to return to the stifling agony of Izaya's office, even with Aoba here to snipe at him.]
Gross. When you say it like that, you make me sound like a stalker. I'm just making sure you don't do anything suspicious, not writing notes on the size of your shits.
[Masaomi... That's stalking.
Dutifully ignoring this fact, he frowns at the mystery remote and nudges the setting from 0 to 1.]
You are aware that you are, too, a gang leader, just as me, aren't you? Don't think I'm unaware of what you've done.
(So, seriously, lay off of him. Masaomi has just as much blood in his hands as does Aoba, so there's no need to act all righteous as if Aoba was the only one who's technically 'evil'.
Shut the fuck up, Yellow Scarf. You've hitten as many Blue Squares as I've hitten of yours.
The smile was polite, but it soon contorts into an expression of indescribable pleasure as soon as Masaomi messes with the remote. Oh. Fuck. So that's what the discomfort is. He couldn't be redder when he reaches for it, desperate to turn it off as much as his eyebrows nearly meet.)
[Aoba's right. Masaomi is painfully aware of the shit he himself has pulled. What makes all the difference, however, is that he doesn't know what Aoba has done.
He tries to hide his grimace with another pretend sip of cider, but then he catches sight of Aoba's contorted expression through the glass. The dude looks like he's about to jizz in his fucking pants. Masaomi chokes, inadvertently swallowing the sweet, mind-altering beverage. He doesn't notice though, doesn't have time to consider what the effects might be anyway. Aoba is already lunging for the remote, and Masaomi's immediate instinct is to slam his drink down on top of the guy's outstretched arm. He grabs for the remote with his other hand, shields it behind his back.]
No way!
[He's just discovered something amazing. He can't let this once-in-a-lifetime win slip away from him that fast!]
Do you- [-have a for real, for true vibrator in your ass?????] Seriously?!
(Look at all the fucks he gives about the drink dripping from his arm. There are much more important things to deal with, considering that he does have, for true, a vibrator up his ass. In the hands of his goddamn enemy.
He hates this place. Hates it so much.
He can't get up, he's scared of what might happen if he moves too much, so he tries to grab the arm and twist so that at least he'd let go.)
I'm going to shove this controller up your ass and grab it back from your mouth if you don't fucking give it--
[It doesn't take a genius to figure out what's going on here. Masaomi had received not only a magic wardrobe change but also a remote upon entering the adult section of the club. Aoba must not have been so lucky. This otherwise innocuous remote is without doubt connected to the gift Aoba had received upon entrance, not in his pocket but lodged deeply in the worst place imaginable.
In any other situation with any other person, Masaomi would balk at having that kind of control. He'd turn the remote off immediately, maybe even guard the guy's bathroom stall so he could remove the toy discreetly. But this is Aoba Kuronuma, not any other person, and he's currently trying to snap Masaomi's arm with all the fury of a typhoon.
Masaomi doesn't stop to think about where they are, how they're surrounded by people, or even what Aoba might do to him after he escapes. He just shoves Aoba away as hard as he can and flicks the remote's setting to max.]
Not only is this the best feeling Aoba has ever felt in the entirety of his sixteen years (kissing incestuous twins included), but also, it's entirely too frustrating to learn something as embarrassing as this in the hands of the worst person -- and now that he's touching the other, he doesn't feel like he can take his hand off even when swatted.
It's too enticing, and Aoba both loathes the feeling as much as he revels in it, putting a hand to his lips to avoid the groans that insist on escaping them.
This fucking sucker. Two can be assholes, in case he wasn't aware, and Aoba is showing that by smacking his lips against the boy's while his free hand reaches for the controller. Fucker.)
[Masaomi expects threats and violence, writhing and embarrassment. If he's extra lucky, he might even get to see the little shit on his knees and asking for help.
So why?
Why is the fucker sucking his face instead?
He should have gained some time to get a better grip on the remote when he pushed Aoba away. Instead, the guy's on him again in an instant, locking his lips into a forceful, desperate kiss. Masaomi's back slams into the bar counter, and pain shoots through him like fire, but he still refuses to give up that remote. He clutches it white-knuckle tight even as he bites Aoba's bottom lip, tastes blood in his mouth. Adrenaline courses through him like a narcotic, and despite everything he insists he stands for, he can't help but be a bit turned on by the thrill of it all.
All he has to do is win, endure longer than the guy with the vibrator up his ass. As long as he prevents Aoba from stealing the remote, he gets to be the one calling the shots for once.
(Because if Aoba is going to suffer incredible disgust and embarrassment in the hands of his enemy, so will goddamn Masaomi. It's as simple as that, and Aoba has no quarrels into making it a goddamn good kiss, tongueful, making sure he's distracting enough as a hand comes to Masaomi's blonde locks to pull.
This fucking asshole. If he's going to draw blood, he's going to suffer too. Unfortunately for Masaomi, there's not much pain that makes Aoba so much as blink an eye. A pen could go through his hand, a tear would not be shed.
The other hand wraps around Masaomi's wrist, his time to draw blood with his nails. Give it, motherfucker, and Aoba can't make himself more clear with another pull of his hair, merciless in strength.)
[Masaomi's pain tolerance is undoubtedly less than Aoba's, but it would have been impossible for him to stand at the top of his own gang if he couldn't withstand at least this much. Biting lips, nails scraping, and tugging hair? This is more of a girl's fight than what Masaomi's used to, but considering the situation, it's kind of fitting. Masaomi can't help but sneer at the irony.
With his head yanked painfully downward, neck stretched in a vulnerable position, Masaomi smiles a twisted, toothy grin before grabbing Aoba's shoulder to hold him in place and slamming his knee up into the other boy's already stimulated crotch.]
(Does this asshole think he's winning because he's touching him? He is not, over Aoba's dead body he is. Does he not realize Aoba could easily grab his glass, smash it and shove a shatter under Masaomi's ribcage without a single ounce of remorse?
Imbecile. He thought the shogun was smarter than that.
Aoba plays the dirtiest. A hand curls around Masaomi's throat, not enough to choke but firm enough to send the message as he forces the other boy to sit-- and sits on his lap. Now both have fallen victim to the vibrator.)
[Masaomi Kida is rarely ever "smarter than that," and despite the way this fight has gone from the get-go, he's not expecting Aoba's next move to be a vibrator lap dance. With one hand still behind him protecting the remote, grabbing the hand around his neck would mean letting go of Aoba's shoulder. He has more control over how close Aoba gets so long as he's got that shoulder, so Masaomi chooses to stick to his guns, squeezing Aoba's shoulder with dangerous force even as he's forced down. If he can't wrangle his way out of the other boy's choking grip, he'll just have to dislocate his damn shoulder. With his cruel goal clear before him, Masaomi steels himself to tear Aoba limb from limb. He only needs a fraction of a second.
Aoba uses that fraction of a second to sit his ass on Masaomi's crotch.
The thrill seeking Shogun is already a little hard from spiked booze and adrenaline, but now he can feel the way Aoba's twitching around the vibrator, the friction of rubbing jeans, even the buzz of the vibrator itself. Masaomi flinches, biting back a groan as he hastily clenches his teeth. Battle plan completely forgotten at the realization that he's getting harder, an embarrassed Masaomi instinctively bucks.
He needs Aoba off his dick right fucking now. Get off, get off, get off, get off!!!]
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
cw underage sexual stuff
He just wasn't expecting to suddenly have a vibrator up his ass. Thankfully, it's not a big one, a little bullet that's tucked right under his prostate, but considering the fact that he's never had anything up there before, Aoba just thinks there's some discomfort in the area - he feels too good to worry, though. There's just something about this place that makes him happy, and he can't quite put a finger on what it may be. Perhaps the titties? Ah, but they're covered up this time around.
Aoba will order a non-alcoholic caramel apple martini, and he happily sips until his eyes fall upon the blonde hair he's been avoiding. What is that remote in his hands for...?)
Why are you here?
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Does Izaya know all this? Probably. Masaomi assumes it's why Izaya asks him to exchange info with her rather than doing it himself.
He's not all that interested in telling Aoba any of this. If he did, he'd have to explain not only Izaya's presence in hell but the fact that he's working for the bastard. His lips purse around the glass he's been pretending to drink from for half an hour now. He hasn't swallowed a drop of it. Yeah, he definitely doesn't want to tell Aoba.]
At least I almost fit in here. How have they not kicked you out? [He snarks instead, poking idly at the strange remote he'd found in the pocket of his new coat. Can he call it his new coat? Well, seeing as the whole outfit had magically replaced what he'd been wearing when he entered the club, he can now.] I really didn't think I'd see you here again.
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(He even has baby fat still, who's he trying to fool? Certainly not Aoba, but he's in too much of a good mood to pick a fight, so this time, his words come out with a less deceitful smile - he feels good, and his eyes close as he moves to take a sip of his non-alcoholic drink.)
I thought you were keeping tabs on me, weren't you? Doing a poor job if this is so unexpected.
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He's tempted to get up and leave, but something about the atmosphere of the club today feels too cozy to abandon. It's why he's still here despite that his meeting with the stripper had been cut short. He'd much rather sit and people watch here than have to return to the stifling agony of Izaya's office, even with Aoba here to snipe at him.]
Gross. When you say it like that, you make me sound like a stalker. I'm just making sure you don't do anything suspicious, not writing notes on the size of your shits.
[Masaomi... That's stalking.
Dutifully ignoring this fact, he frowns at the mystery remote and nudges the setting from 0 to 1.]
no subject
(So, seriously, lay off of him. Masaomi has just as much blood in his hands as does Aoba, so there's no need to act all righteous as if Aoba was the only one who's technically 'evil'.
Shut the fuck up, Yellow Scarf. You've hitten as many Blue Squares as I've hitten of yours.
The smile was polite, but it soon contorts into an expression of indescribable pleasure as soon as Masaomi messes with the remote. Oh. Fuck. So that's what the discomfort is. He couldn't be redder when he reaches for it, desperate to turn it off as much as his eyebrows nearly meet.)
Give me that!
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He tries to hide his grimace with another pretend sip of cider, but then he catches sight of Aoba's contorted expression through the glass. The dude looks like he's about to jizz in his fucking pants. Masaomi chokes, inadvertently swallowing the sweet, mind-altering beverage. He doesn't notice though, doesn't have time to consider what the effects might be anyway. Aoba is already lunging for the remote, and Masaomi's immediate instinct is to slam his drink down on top of the guy's outstretched arm. He grabs for the remote with his other hand, shields it behind his back.]
No way!
[He's just discovered something amazing. He can't let this once-in-a-lifetime win slip away from him that fast!]
Do you- [-have a for real, for true vibrator in your ass?????] Seriously?!
no subject
(Look at all the fucks he gives about the drink dripping from his arm. There are much more important things to deal with, considering that he does have, for true, a vibrator up his ass. In the hands of his goddamn enemy.
He hates this place. Hates it so much.
He can't get up, he's scared of what might happen if he moves too much, so he tries to grab the arm and twist so that at least he'd let go.)
I'm going to shove this controller up your ass and grab it back from your mouth if you don't fucking give it--
(Look whose mask just dropped and shattered.)
no subject
In any other situation with any other person, Masaomi would balk at having that kind of control. He'd turn the remote off immediately, maybe even guard the guy's bathroom stall so he could remove the toy discreetly. But this is Aoba Kuronuma, not any other person, and he's currently trying to snap Masaomi's arm with all the fury of a typhoon.
Masaomi doesn't stop to think about where they are, how they're surrounded by people, or even what Aoba might do to him after he escapes. He just shoves Aoba away as hard as he can and flicks the remote's setting to max.]
no subject
Not only is this the best feeling Aoba has ever felt in the entirety of his sixteen years (kissing incestuous twins included), but also, it's entirely too frustrating to learn something as embarrassing as this in the hands of the worst person -- and now that he's touching the other, he doesn't feel like he can take his hand off even when swatted.
It's too enticing, and Aoba both loathes the feeling as much as he revels in it, putting a hand to his lips to avoid the groans that insist on escaping them.
This fucking sucker. Two can be assholes, in case he wasn't aware, and Aoba is showing that by smacking his lips against the boy's while his free hand reaches for the controller. Fucker.)
no subject
So why?
Why is the fucker sucking his face instead?
He should have gained some time to get a better grip on the remote when he pushed Aoba away. Instead, the guy's on him again in an instant, locking his lips into a forceful, desperate kiss. Masaomi's back slams into the bar counter, and pain shoots through him like fire, but he still refuses to give up that remote. He clutches it white-knuckle tight even as he bites Aoba's bottom lip, tastes blood in his mouth. Adrenaline courses through him like a narcotic, and despite everything he insists he stands for, he can't help but be a bit turned on by the thrill of it all.
All he has to do is win, endure longer than the guy with the vibrator up his ass. As long as he prevents Aoba from stealing the remote, he gets to be the one calling the shots for once.
Why is that prospect so damn seductive?]
no subject
This fucking asshole. If he's going to draw blood, he's going to suffer too. Unfortunately for Masaomi, there's not much pain that makes Aoba so much as blink an eye. A pen could go through his hand, a tear would not be shed.
The other hand wraps around Masaomi's wrist, his time to draw blood with his nails. Give it, motherfucker, and Aoba can't make himself more clear with another pull of his hair, merciless in strength.)
no subject
With his head yanked painfully downward, neck stretched in a vulnerable position, Masaomi smiles a twisted, toothy grin before grabbing Aoba's shoulder to hold him in place and slamming his knee up into the other boy's already stimulated crotch.]
I can play dirty too, bastard!
no subject
(Does this asshole think he's winning because he's touching him? He is not, over Aoba's dead body he is. Does he not realize Aoba could easily grab his glass, smash it and shove a shatter under Masaomi's ribcage without a single ounce of remorse?
Imbecile. He thought the shogun was smarter than that.
Aoba plays the dirtiest. A hand curls around Masaomi's throat, not enough to choke but firm enough to send the message as he forces the other boy to sit-- and sits on his lap. Now both have fallen victim to the vibrator.)
Fuck you.
no subject
Aoba uses that fraction of a second to sit his ass on Masaomi's crotch.
The thrill seeking Shogun is already a little hard from spiked booze and adrenaline, but now he can feel the way Aoba's twitching around the vibrator, the friction of rubbing jeans, even the buzz of the vibrator itself. Masaomi flinches, biting back a groan as he hastily clenches his teeth. Battle plan completely forgotten at the realization that he's getting harder, an embarrassed Masaomi instinctively bucks.
He needs Aoba off his dick right fucking now. Get off, get off, get off, get off!!!]