[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!!!]
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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!!!]