His Personal Brand of Heroin. Part 1
Maybe itâs the change of seasons, some strange autumnal flare-up, or just the weather messing with him â but heâs constantly aroused. All the time. Normally composed and calm like a mountain, he loses every ounce of control when he sees you. No, he doesnât shove you into a storage room and take you hard until youâre both breathless â though itâs hard not to think about it. Just imagining how tight youâd feel around him, how youâd moan softly into his ear while clawing at his neck â it drives him insane. And he wouldnât care where it happened. In moments of haze, even his fear of germs fades into the background.
But Sakusa has trained himself to endure. Masturbation helps, a little. But how long can he keep this up?
Youâre not his girlfriend, by the way. Ha. Youâre a PR agent for the Jackals â smart, stunning, with two degrees, years of experience, and a body thatâs about to haunt his dreams.
âGreat game, Kiyoomi-kun!â you say cheerfully, but he hears something entirely different. And heâs deeply ashamed of that.
Itâs like someone swapped out the real, proper Kiyoomi for a reckless imposter. He barely recognizes himself anymore. Heâs become a creature waiting for the right moment to claim you.
But he canât just ask to sleep with you. Thatâs against his principles. Intimacy requires connection, and you two barely go beyond âthank youâ and âgood job.â
So he decides to start with a date. Invite you to a fancy restaurant, do things âright.â Maybe then the shameful thoughts will fade. Or at least stop tormenting him so much. But thatâs going to be hard. You work like a president. The Jackals see you once a week â and only because you love sports and occasionally come to cheer on the team you promote so brilliantly. Itâs unlikely youâll carve out a few hours for Sakusa, whose shorts get tight the moment he sees you. Itâs embarrassing to admit, even to himself. The always-composed Kiyoomi is going through a teenage phase â every time you show up in fitted blouses and short skirts. And honestly, he doesnât remember ever having erections this intense as a teen. Itâs absurd.
The Jackals won. No surprise there. Hinata and Bokuto didnât give the opponents a moment to breathe. As much as Sakusa shushes their loud antics, heâs genuinely glad to have monsters like them on his team. Except right now, he wants to break their legs.
Theyâre bouncing around you like caffeinated puppies. How is he supposed to ask you to dinner without an audience? He canât just pull you away from the crowd â that would invite endless teasing and jokes.
You looked incredible today. A pale blue skirt to mid-thigh, a light white turtleneck tucked in neatly. Hair pulled into a ponytail. Everything exactly how Kiyoomi likes it. Or has grown to like. No half-naked fangirl or premium porn ever gets him going the way you do. And all you have to do is lick your lips â like you just did.
Sakusa exhaled, lowering his head. Sweat dripped onto the clean tile. Disgusting. He needed to do something about this. About everything. He adjusted his uniform shorts and sighed.
âKiyoomi-san?â your voice snapped him out of his thoughts, and he jerked his head up. You. Too. Close. Damn it. âYou were amazing today. That last attack was something else!â
âThanks,â he muttered, trying not to look down. Trying not to inhale your perfume too deeply. Trying not to lose it. âY/n, IâŠâ
âHey hey hey! Y/n, you coming with us?â Bokuto swooped in, throwing an arm around your shoulder. Sakusa clenched his jaw, mentally vaporizing his teammateâs hand. What was happening to him? âThey say the beef there is finger-licking good!â
âWhy not? Iâve got a free evening.â
What? No. No. No. This was supposed to be his evening. No beer and beef. No noodles and a bunch of loud, drunk guys. Sakusa wanted to scream at his own slowness. But still â it was better than jerking off to you alone in his apartment. He wanted to spend time with you, and maybe that was enough.
The whole evening, heâd have to play guard dog â keeping his thoughts and hands in check, terrified of ruining whatever fragile thing existed between you. And you, as always, would smile sweetly at everyone, completely missing the signals. Itâs fine. Kiyoomi wouldnât let anyone get within a centimeter of you without your permission. Even if that someone was himself.
Alcohol flowed like a river. Loud shouts tore through eardrums, and the karaoke blaring through the wall turned the chaos into something that drilled deep into the brain. Bokuto and Hinata werenât exactly known for their alcohol tolerance, but their shared, bizarre physiology defied logic. Who knew how many bottles of beer had already been knocked over, and half-empty sake cups clinked wildly in the hands of volleyball players with arms and fingers far too long for their own good.
Even when the usually unshakable coach started seeing his players as a traditional Japanese choir, Sakusa didnât so much as hunch his back. It was hot, sticky, and unbearably tense sitting across from the one whose perfume made him want to evaporate. He shouldâve gotten drunk, let the beast inside off its leash. But all he could manage now was hiding his painfully hard erection behind a small pillow Bokuto had thrown at him earlier.
You, devil that you are, had settled your gorgeous self directly across from him, cheeks flushed, stoking the fire in Kiyoomiâs gut. Your eyes kept meeting, lingering on familiar places. That beer was clearly working its magic inside you, letting you shamelessly admire the sinewy neck of the spiker, exposed by the wide collar that dipped just below his collarbones. And Sakusa? He didnât know what to do with his own saliva anymore, especially after realizing that under your white turtleneck was a thin black tank top, its straps constantly slipping off your shoulder.
He was also deeply curious about a certain missing piece of intimate apparel. Not that it mattered â whether it was there or not, his body reacted the same. His dick twitched even at the sight of your damn shoe, the one heâd politely returned to you after practice. That tiny black pump looked so delicate in his large hand that his mind immediately conjured images of your refined feet. And everything above them.
You kept adding fuel to the fire. One moment your hair was down, the next it was tied up again, revealing the glistening curve of your neck in the beer-heavy air. Then youâd lick your lips after a bite of juicy beef. When Sakusa saw a drop of beer slide from your plump lips down into the valley of your chest, he barely stopped himself from disappearing into the bathroom for twenty minutes.
He snapped out of the mental porn reel starring you when a very concerned Hinata jabbed him in the ribs, hinting that youâd gone to get drinks. Kiyoomi shot up from the floor like heâd been stung, nearly knocking over everything on the table. How could he have missed you leaving?! Damn it. Thatâs his life in a nutshell â too scared to confess, stuck fantasizing about sex while youâre off living your own.
âExcuse me! Oh, Kiyoomi-kun, Iââ
The poor girl didnât get to finish. Sakusa, graceful as ever, gently but firmly moved her aside. The blondeâs hair practically stood on end with indignation â sheâd clearly dressed those porn-star breasts just for him. And they werenât cheap, mind you. But he didnât care about someone elseâs perfect fifth size. He wanted yours â barely a third â the ones half the bar was already ogling. Sakusa would gladly stab their eyeballs with chopsticks if it meant theyâd stop staring.
âSakusa-kun, perfect timing,â you sang, grabbing his forearm. âIâm running out of hands here.â
âY/n, weâre not going to drink all this,â he muttered, suddenly discovering a new erogenous zone on his arm. Or maybe his body had just decided to grow one on the spot. Youâd managed to wedge his elbow between your breasts, squeezing tighter in a totally âfriendlyâ way. Please stop. Heâs not going anywhere, for Godâs sake.
âOh, trust me. I once drank with your coach, and they nearly kicked us out because of his alcohol appetite,â your cheeks puffed adorably with laughter, and Kiyoomi was back in his thoughts again. When did you go drinking with the coach? Has everyone asked you out except him? âYouâve got room for a few more shots, right?â
âIt amazes me how much alcohol you can handle,â the curly-haired one muttered, clenching his fist as you pulled away from the hug to focus on placing the order. âNo. Iâll take it,â he said firmly.
You glanced at him, a little flustered, as he intercepted the tray before you could even touch it. You bit your lip, hiding a pleased smile. Even tipsy, he never stopped caring about your comfort. And honestly, youâd lost count of how many times heâd done things like this. Your buzzed brain started painting pictures.
âYeah, I think Iâve had enough,â you said lightly, catching Kiyoomiâs gaze.
âYou said something?â Sakusa needed to hear everything that came out of your mouth â like air. It was the only thing he could handle right now without falling apart. Though, if you said something remotely pornographic⊠no. Not the time. Definitely not the time.
âJust thinking out loud,â you murmured, falling into step beside the tall volleyball player, your tipsy mind suddenly noticing every one of his beautiful features. Why hadnât you looked at him like this before? Was sobriety the problem? âWill you be my bodyguard tonight?â
Kiyoomi froze, adjusting the ridiculously heavy tray of beer and vodka like it weighed nothing. Why did you say things like that so easily? What kind of bodyguard?
âWhat do you mean?â he asked, trying to maintain his chill-guy persona. If he slipped now, even your drunk brain wouldnât forget the performance he was capable of. âIs someone bothering you?â
You blushed, hiding a soft smile. God, he was sweet. His concern for you spilled over, and his mind started conjuring awful scenarios he hadnât even had time to prevent. But you shook your head, your clear gaze landing on him â and something in his chest tightened painfully. Is this what falling in love feels like? Seriously? His dick had been spelling it out for weeks, and heâd been ignoring it like a villain.
You stepped closer, rising onto your toes and resting a hand on his shoulder. Sakusa nearly dropped the drinks. He was drunk too, and you were tilting him off balance, your warm breath scorching the side of his neck.
âMake sure they donât pour me too much? I want to remember tonight,â you said, probably with a voice far too seductive for the situation. Sakusa coughed, nodded awkwardly, and let you pass, trailing behind you slowly, barely holding onto the cursed beer.
âSakusa, my boy! You read our minds â we needed a refill,â the manager chimed in, helping unload the tray. Sakusa just wanted to sit down â and found a surprise waiting for him.
âYou donât mind, do you? The ACâs better here,â you said with a fake wink, clearly implying that sitting next to you would help him keep an eye on your drinking. Though how exactly he was supposed to stop you from overdoing it, he hadnât figured out yet. Saying something like âI think sheâs had enoughâ might backfire. He wasnât your dad, after all â and oh, what a terrible word to pop into his head right now.
The morning greeted you with a gentle chill, a breeze brushing the bare skin of your back. Stretching sweetly, you cracked one eye open, trying to make sense of the hazy surroundings. Your heart skipped when you realized the bed you were nearly naked in⊠wasnât yours. Propping yourself up on your elbows, you took in the unfamiliar sheets, the high-tech headboard, and the massive framed artwork above. You twisted around, leaning against a pillow and pulling the pale blue blanket up to your neck. Your hand found the lower half of your underwear, but your breasts were freely exposed. Panic surged, adrenaline sharpening your focus.
The spacious bedroom was minimalistic, with a wardrobe and mirror reflecting your startled face, and a slightly open door leading to the hallway. It felt like a designer hotel.
Turning your head, you spotted pills and lemon water on the nightstand â which you immediately gulped down. Through the bottom of the glass, you noticed folded clothes on a chair by the window. Not yours. You slid your legs off the bed, clutching the blanket, and rummaged through the neat pile, pulling out a massive sweatshirt and slipping it over your bare shoulders. It hung to mid-thigh â enough to explore safely. What happened last night? You remembered nothing. And the lingering anxiety made it hard to focus.
Right. The party with the Jackals. The bed was a mess, but you didnât feel like youâd spent the night with anyone. Your head began to throb, so you grabbed the unopened blister pack of painkillers and took a couple to soften the hangover. Pills, water, clothes â your brain began to relax. The room smelled faintly of air freshener, and the open window brought in a refreshing breeze. Wait⊠was it even morning? What time was it?
âPhone! Whereâs my phone?â you muttered, scanning the room.
You spotted it on the opposite nightstand and rushed over. Unlocked. Saturday. 10 a.m. No missed deadlines. Your inner workaholic sighed in relief â at least you hadnât let anyone down because of last nightâs alcohol adventure. You unplugged the charger, held the phone close, and padded into the hallway.
The living room mirrored the bedroom â minimal furniture, no clutter, no dust⊠and no sign of the owner. You tiptoed further, needing to figure out whose place youâd ended up in.
You barely took two steps before nearly colliding with the floor â caught mid-fall by a strong pair of arms. A shiver ran down your spine. Whoever saved you hadnât fully dried off from their shower. You steadied yourself and looked up â and the sight of a tall, toned, damp male chest made your thoughts scatter.
The man was speechless. What kind of Japanese drama was this? And of course, you had to wake up now â and crash straight into freshly showered Sakusa, standing in nothing but a towel slung low on his hips, still holding you by the waist. He quickly stepped back, hiding his flushed cheeks behind wet curls. He definitely remembered laying out pants for you â so why were you parading around in just his sweatshirt, barely covering your ass?
âUm,â you blushed too, trying not to stare too hard at the half-naked guy. âIs this your apartment?â
Kiyoomi stared at you, stunned. Damn. You made it impossible to think straight. You hadnât removed your makeup, so your mascara had smudged beautifully around your eyes, making your sleepy gaze even more intense. And your lips â so full. You mustâve slept face-down all night. He couldnât help but glance lower, bracing himself to wipe a nosebleed. His sweatshirt hung off your shoulders like a blanket. One shoulder exposed. Sleeves bunched in your hands. If he saw any more, his dick would riot. He turned away, tossing a towel over his head.
âYes. I couldnât get your address, so I brought you here.â
Your cheeks flared, and you covered your face with your hands. You remembered nothing. And there was one question you had to ask â the one that would change everything.
âKiyoomi⊠did weâŠâ
The spiker flushed, stepping back and clutching the towel slipping from his hips. You really didnât remember? God. Heâd just calmed down, and now you were sending his testosterone into overdrive again. Or worse â you thought heâd taken advantage of you while you were out cold. He had to clear this up. Fast.
âNo. Donât worry,â he said â wow, what a steady voice, considering he was dying inside. âPlease, go to the kitchen. Help yourself to anything. Iâll get dressed and explain everything.â
âA-ah,â you nodded, and Kiyoomi vanished into the bedroom like The Flash, leaving you flustered in the living room.
You exhaled and slipped into the open bathroom, eager to wash your face and feel human again. The air was still warm and smelled like his shower gel. You smiled, spotting a fresh essentials kit on the counter. That guyâŠ
âSo thoughtful. I could stay here every day,â you chuckled, reaching for the toothbrush.
Meanwhile, Kiyoomi stood in front of the mirror, adjusting the waistband of his gray lounge pants. His jaw ached from clenching so hard. What else could he have done? Leave you in some sketchy motel with questionable hygiene and open-door policies? He wouldnât have slept a wink, worrying about you. Even here, heâd barely slept three hours, listening for every sound from the bedroom. He felt guilty â he hadnât watched you closely enough, and you drank so much you could barely think. Damn. His mind drifted back to last night, and his dick twitched again. This was starting to feel like a medical condition.
âGet it together, idiot,â he muttered to his reflection, pulling on a black shirt.
He exhaled and headed to the kitchen. The smell of coffee greeted him. Sakusa tried to act casual, settling into a chair and stretching out his long legs. He glanced at you. You looked insanely cute. Freshly washed, hair in a high bun. His heart clenched â you looked like⊠a couple. A couple having a quiet breakfast together. You tucked one leg under you, sitting across from him. Youâd even made two cups of coffee. Kiyoomi regretted not coming out a few minutes earlier â he couldâve watched you reach for the high shelf, sweatshirt riding up and⊠Nope. Stop.
âYou have a lovely apartment,â you said, sipping your coffee. âItâs kind of how I imagined it.â
âYou wondered what my place looked like?â You blushed, lips parting, and Sakusa realized heâd said that out loud. âI didnât mean.. Iâm sorry.â
Damn it. Heâd embarrassed you with his dumb thoughts. Now you were both tomato-faced, sipping coffee in silence. You smiled softly, gazing out the window. The view looked like you were on the fortieth floor. Was this a hotel? Or a massive residential tower? How far were you from your neighborhood? So many questions â and too much awkwardness to ask them.
âSo,â Kiyoomi began quietly, forcing himself to look at your beautiful face, âwhatâs the last thing you remember?â
âItâs all kind of blurry,â you said, pressing a hand to your forehead. Where were your memories when you needed them? âI remember some commotion at the bar. Oh! Someone spilled beer on my skirt!â
Ah, thatâs why you couldnât find your clothes. Kiyoomi mustâve taken care of that too. He covered his mouth to hide a small smile. Alcohol really does wonders. Heâd have to tell you everything. You meant too much to him to keep you in the dark. Even if nothing happened, you might feel ashamed â and Sakusa would never let you feel uncomfortable because of him.
âWhen we came back with the refillâŠâ