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Understanding people isn't hard. It's impossible. But only by allowing strangers in, do we find new ways to be ourselves.

[joshvakiryu]

.

[joshvakiryu]

nelcu​:

     Because you’re fucking wearing them?! Maybe? Come on, you can afford your own! I have somewhere to be, jackass.

    Relax, partner. You don’t have to yell at me just to get my pants off. If you want them that badly, here. Free of charge.

[nelcu]

@joshvakiryu​ @floweringeclipse​

     All right. Which one of you gremlins has my blue Adidas sweats? Not mad. Just need to know.

[joshvakiryu]

Do I have what, now? What would give the idea that I’m a thief? 

[joshvakiryu]

{/booty call}

[joshvakiryu]

nelcu:

     You look like you’ve got that covered already.

     Neku might have said something to that end, if he weren’t so perilously enraptured with every mysterious turn in the blond’s lips. Had Joshua not spoken, he may have never snapped out of his stupor–which was embarrassing enough without being called out on his inactivity.

     He could have shed his hoodie as he closed the distance to the couch, but the idea didn’t occur to him. He was more concerned with getting his hands on him, with trailing his fingertips over an atlas of veins that shouldn’t thrum so lively, and yet. And yet–

     He settled in snugly atop the Composer, but he pressed the Composer’s wrists twice as snugly into the sofa cushions. Towering over him, still a peculiar position to be in with a god. With a … friend, even. He had never imagined earning–or holding–this kind of trust with someone. 

     Their eyes bore into each other, and his chest rattled before he spoke.

     “Next time–send a Reaper Uber or something.”

   “Oh, sweetie, you could have done that yourself and instead you chose to take public transportation. Who would have guessed that you felt so strongly about exhibitionism?” 

   The giggle that punctuated Joshua’s teasing question sounded more like a hum than anything else. His fingers curled into fists against the linen of the couch, bracing himself against thin wrists as he lifted himself up to hover pale lips near the other’s own mouth. 

   “I set out some condoms for you... but you took so long getting here that I don’t think I have it in me to wait for you to put one on. I’m afraid there’s no other choice but for you to take me bareback.”

[joshvakiryu]

{/booty call}

[joshvakiryu]

nelcu:

     Fucking checkmate. The raw displeasure in Joshua’s voice might as well be a trophy. That’ll show him to make him traipse across the city for his needy ass. That’ll show … him …

     Neku’s victory was notoriously short-lived. He had scarcely passed through the threshold when his eyes fell upon the Composer, and he–froze. He lowered his bag to settle by the door, but his gaze didn’t waver–it couldn’t. A split second ago, he had been furious at Joshua’s insinuation that Neku would ever beg for a glimpse of him, but now he … he was miserably sure that he would.

     His jaw slackened stupidly. Josh must be getting a real kick out of this, out of his eyes roving every bared curve of his body, out of his utter speechlessness. Or Joshua was getting further annoyed with him for stalling.

     “–what? Uh–hey. What did you–hey.”

     Someone smack him, if it’ll clear up his broken speech abilities.

     “My bus driver took a phone call. Sorry.”

   Neku let a stupid phone call get in the way of him coming over? Hmph. He ought to be annoyed-- then again, he had ought to be a more patient partner. The redhead was right when he’d pointed out how easily the Composer could bend time and space, making himself appear out of thin air right on top of Neku’s lap, if he’d wanted. 

   No, the wait was worth it. That look in Neku’s eyes, glazed with hormones he had yet to grow out of since being a teenager, had made all of this so damn perfect. 

   Joshua’s frown quickly changed into that of a devilish smirk. His lube-coated fingers slipped out of his hole to wrap around his hard, twitching penis. 

   “So?” he was practically purring. “Are you just going to stand there, or are you going to touch me?”

[joshvakiryu]

{/booty call}

[joshvakiryu]

nelcu:

     Miffed, Neku slapped his phone shut. Like hell he was going to beg for nudes. Like hell! Not … not on a bus, anyway. 

     And so he jiggled his leg the rest of the way to his stop, adamantly ignoring any additional messages Joshua might send trying to bait him back into his cellular sin hole. Joshua could use some being ignored for once, anyway. It was good for his character. 

     The next message Joshua received was a customary “let me in, asshole,” as he stood outside the Composer’s door, miserable as one usually is while loitering in the sewers with a mild boner.

   How rude! Joshua waited, waited, and waited some more for a text message that never came. Once he got tired of waiting, he scanned the city to find out where his Proxy was-- and why he had the nerve not to answer his phone. 

   Frowning in sexual frustration, the blond worked his finger inside and out of himself. If Neku didn’t want to play, fine. He would have to deal with the disappointment of doing the stretching himself. 

   After receiving Neku’s latest message, he gave a little wave of his hand that caused the door to swing open. 

   “What took you so long?” Joshua whined. 

[joshvakiryu]

{/booty call}

[joshvakiryu]

nelcu:

     Neku slithered deeper into his seat, as if he could disappear through the floorboard itself. Absolutely no one was looking at him, nor did anyone care about his salacious antics, but at the moment he felt as if the eyes of the world were on him. Judging him.

     “STOP IT”

     “I’m almost there, just”

     Not ‘almost there’ enough for his stupid, needy appetite. 

     “Yeah, that’s not the only thing that’s thicker.”

   “Don’t result to insults now, Neku. You don’t want to spend our time together comparing sizes, now, do you?” 

   The Composer reached to the far end of the couch where he had previously placed some much needed supplies for their rendezvous. He coated his finger with a fair amount of lubricant before returning back to his phone-- and reaching for his anus, too. 

   Joshua gasped quietly as he pushed his finger inside, slowly passing the first knuckle to the second. 

   “I’m just getting started. How badly would you like to see?”

[joshvakiryu]

{/booty call}

[joshvakiryu]

nelcu:

     fuck.

     Leave it to Josh to make a bus ride uncomfortable, even from afar. Neku had already slumped into a seat middle of the vehicle, but now he was scrambling for the back, where he could hide his face from the majority of the planet. Despite no one being behind him, he still slouched over his phone, hyper-aware of its bright and incriminating glow. 

     “First of all, I’m going to murder you.”

     “Second of all, did I say you could?”

   “Oh? I hadn’t realized that I needed your permission.”

   Joshua took a pause so that he could snap another picture. Unfortunately for the boy on the other end of the text message, his arm blocked any view of what lay between his legs. But his bare hips and ribs were in plain view, and that was all he needed his proxy to see.

   “It does feel better when you do it. Your knuckles are thicker, after all.”

[joshvakiryu]

{/booty call}

[joshvakiryu]

nelcu:

     So Joshua was … really going to make him traverse the city for a booty call. Seriously. And Neku was really considering it. Ugh.

     What probably cemented his decision was Joshua’s rare usage of the garden variety dirty word ‘ass.’ He must mean business if he was willing to sacrifice his squeaky clean diction. Neku was … also fiendishly curious as to what other uncharacteristic words Joshua was willing to spill for the occasion. 

     But damn if he wasn’t going to at least front like he was planning on doing more than screwing around (harhar). He packed his miniature truckload of schoolwork into his bag, strategically hiding a change of clothes beneath, because he could at least keep his priorities in line on the surface, right? … right. 

     At the station, he snapped a photo of the bus.

     “You better not finish by yourself before I get there.”

   “I wouldn’t dream of it.” 

   That didn’t mean he wasn’t going to start without him, however. He was calculating the duration of the bus route as his fingers opened the front of his jeans. Neku’s footsteps should be approaching his door in no more than twenty minutes. And in those twenty minutes-- he was going to torture the redhead’s hormones as well as he could. 

   Both his pants and his briefs slid down to his knees, giving himself freedom for his arousal to breathe and for his hand to reach behind himself. Joshua teased his own opening with the tip of his middle finger, applying pressure without pushing in.

   “Tell me what you’re going to do if I’ve already stretched myself for you?”

[joshvakiryu]

{/booty call}

[joshvakiryu]

nelcu:

     I want you all to myself.

     It … really didn’t take much to get a freshman college student going. Or, uh–at least not this college student, anyway, and at least not when it came to men whose names began with Jo and ended in Shua. It was embarrassing to admit that everything after that first text was overkill, but yeah, it definitely was.

      He had to briefly put his phone face-down to assess how much humiliation his libido was worth. 

     “So, you want me to walk all the way across Shibuya … with this??? ok thanks asshole.”

     When he slammed the phone down again, it was a fragile attempt at coping with having sent the Composer of Shibuya a poorly framed photo of the bulge in his sweatpants.

   Joshua was already smirking before he had opened his most recent text message. Seeing the (no subject) opener alone that suggested a provocative image, and Neku hadn’t failed to disappoint him.

   “Tsk, tsk. I’ve awoken the beast that easily, hm?”

   The Composer rubbed a little harder against his thigh, pressing the palm closer to the crotch of his pants. His teeth bit down on his bottom lip as he examined the photo, eyes fixated on the unquestionable lump in the center. It was unfair, really, how attractive Neku could be in lazy clothes. 

   Even more unfair was how Joshua had yet to grab a hold of the swollen appendage that lay across Sakuraba’s thigh.

   “If you would get your ass over here, I could fix that for you.”

[joshvakiryu]

{/booty call}

[joshvakiryu]

nelcu:

      If it weren’t for his name plainly enclosed, Neku would have assumed Joshua had made a mistake. What … kind of game was he trying to play? The calculus sheet sprawled across his desk was easier to read than the Composer’s intentions. 

      His mind wandered and his thumbs shook as he studied the image filling his phone screen. He would catch the backlight from dimming with a quick tap, a split second before it could, because he had found himself … mesmerized. Sure, he had been aware before that Joshua was attractive (if perhaps unconventionally), but–

     If he stared too hard, he could believe he was looking at a statue rather than a live (?) person. The dips in his skin rolled like ripples of water that reached for the surface but failed to break. How much of Joshua’s body was true to his mortal form, and how much was a result of … not being so normal anymore? Had Joshua been strutting around like some 21st century Adonis before he died?

     More importantly, how much better would Josh look with mouth-shaped bruises down his stomach?

     Neku had to rub a hand down his face, hard, as if that would remedy the hazy, primal cloud in his brain.

     “Question: why am I coming to you, when you’re the one who can teleport?”

   Always with those silly little questions of his. Why did Neku always have to act so suspicious? Hadn’t they known each other well enough now that the redhead didn’t have to second guess everything that the Composer threw at him? 

   “It’s simple, really. I want you all to myself. Your friends and family have an ugly habit of interrupting.” 

   Joshua typed with one hand, while the other trailed up and down the thigh of his jeans, nails scratching against fabric. His Proxy’s hands weren’t as bony. In fact, he imagined that Neku didn’t have to struggle to form bruises on the inside of his thighs. 

   “Imagine the mischief we can get into when you aren’t paranoid of the stories your bedroom walls could tell.”

[joshvakiryu]

{/booty call}

   Joshua stretched over the arm rest of the white linen couch, his arms reaching toward the juke box machine. His bones popped with a satisfying sound. The sigh that trailed through his nose was long, relieved, ending with his lips curving upwards into a cat-like grin. 

   He’d forgotten how fragile a human body could be.

   Once he was sitting upright again, his thumb slid across the touch screen of his phone to where it lay upon to a drafted message for none other than: Neku Sakuraba. Joshua had considered, for a solid thirty seconds, leaving the young man alone to enjoy his day off. However, Sundays were so dreadfully dull. 

   Joshua was... lonely, to say the least.

   “Neku, dear,” he typed. “won’t you come to the Dead God’s Pad for some quality time?” 

   He attached an image of himself that he had taken minutes prior: a shot taken from his nose down to his jutting pelvic bones. The Composer was shirtless, baring tight, pale skin for Neku to see. 

   “I’m waiting.”

[joshvakiryu]

nelcu:

     “It’s really not that serious,” Neku said, but he knew that wouldn’t assuage the boy’s attitude. Joshua was … bizarrely intense about things that, otherwise, weren’t such a big deal. Often, he pointed out details Neku in a million years would not have worried about.

     As the blond settled in, Neku couldn’t help cutting him a look and … cracking a smile, which he tried to suppress. Josh looked–funny? Cute. He couldn’t say he’d thought a friend looked ‘cute’ before.

   “’It’s not that serious’, he says. Just don’t come crying to me when your fingers turn blue and fall off. I warned you.”

   Bundled up the way that he was now, Joshua could purr in comfort. His body heat was trapped inside the blanket at all angles, but he wasn’t going to admit that just yet. The Composer was a master at pretending to be cold.

   “Stop staring at my gorgeous hairdo and let me choose my Slammurai.”

[joshvakiryu]

Neku Dear:

     “It’s not even winter yet.”

     Who knew Shibuya’s local god was prone to acting like a hypersensitive girlfriend? Did Beat complain about the menu or the weather? No. But, then, it wouldn’t be the first time he observed something different about his friendship with Joshua.

     He flopped himself and his oversize hoodie onto the edge of the bed, controller in hand. He handed off the second one to Josh, just as the STARTER screen erupted with familiar theme music. 

     “… Here,” he sighed, as an afterthought, and he tugged the top layer of blanket off his mattress to unceremoniously dump in the Composer’s lap.

   “That’s the point, Neku.” 

   “Exactly what do you plan on doing during the colder months? You can’t leave your space heater on at all times-- not unless you plan on intentionally overheating the circuit and burning your home down. Even I am not that desperate for warmth.”

   He let the controller sit between his crossed legs as he unfurled the blanket, wrapping it around himself and his feet until he was nothing more than a burrito with a head.

[joshvakiryu]

nelcu:

     “If you don’t like it, the door is that way. I can play the new Slammurai Show Down without a player two, just fine.”

     The fuck? Sure, he was hooking up the game system with a lukewarm nugget in his mouth, and yeah, he had to throw his laundry across the room in order to offer Josh a chair. But Joshua lived in the sewer. Among dead people. 

     At the least, he relented in flipping on the space heater and pointing it at his guest’s seat. Yeah, okay, it was chilly. But he wasn’t allowed to touch the thermostat. He usually just bundled up under 300 blankets.

   Joshua had already traded out his thinner button top for a thicker cotton blend, and they weren’t even midway into November. Was it the worst thing in the world to want to enjoy someone’s company without their skin turning blue? 

   “You’d rather pretend a CP can be more challenging than I am? Go ahead,” the blond sniffed, although grateful for the additional heat. As much as Neku griped about making the Composer comfortable, he always went out of his way to humor him. 

   “You and your mother could gang up on your father, you know. I’m not the only one who thinks your father’s electricity standards are unfathomable.”

[joshvakiryu]

   “You call this living? Your parents keep way too much junk food around if they want a healthy, growing boy. Not to mention your room is filthy and it’s too cold to sustain life in any part of this home. Honestly, I don’t know how you can stand it, dear.”

[nelcu]

blood money

[nelcu]

     Cute …? What was cute about a name?

     Neku couldn’t decide if he appreciated the guy stepping into view. On one hand, he rather preferred being able to keep track of everyone in a room. Call it paranoia, if you wish, but–if anyone present was potentially certified to stick him with a needle, he was no fan of surprises. 

     Only … the aura that the boy carried with him was–unsettling. And it was more than the blatant condescension, more than the perspective of position, far beyond the aspect of literally being looked down upon. There was simply something … else, and his fingers curled around the armrests as if he could float through the ceiling.

     Well. Once this was over, he wouldn’t have to see Creepy Guy again–maybe not ever.

     “Four years and counting.”

      He was still vaguely wondering what could be cute about his name. It’s not like it harbors “cherry garden” or sounds despairingly close to “kitty” …

[joshvakiryu]

     Joshua quirked a slim brow at the answer given to him. He had suspected maybe his answer to be once or twice, given his disconcerted behaviour. The volunteers that walked through these doors reacted in all kinds of different ways, yet it was rare for someone who came in often to appear this tense.

     However, he couldn’t say that he was particularly surprised, not as the air he breathed in washed over his palate and delivered the scent of skin and an overwhelming whiff of hairspray. Without needing to ask how old the rather young looking boy could be, he knew that he was in his twenties. More than likely... Neku was closer to twenty than he was thirty.

     Unlike his supervisor for the evening, who was very much above thirty, and who’s perfume was just a smidgen more unbearable than the redhead’s styling products.

     “Four... mmkay. And how much did they weigh you for as you came in?”

     Another trivial question, one after the other, the millionth time he’s had to ask today. Why couldn’t they have had these people grab a clipboard and do this in the waiting room? 

     Joshua glanced up. It would be terribly impolite not to glance at him as he waited for an answer. Not only that, the blond was still curious as to the guarded look that Neku Sakuraba couldn’t keep hidden from his eyes. Disregarding the interrogation chair and rustling supplies as the nurse prepared to cotton swab the volunteer’s arm, the young man looked... preyed upon.

     Those sorts of suspicions of didn’t come unnaturally to Joshua. It happened often, in fact. Although... Neku would be the first since he picked up this internship to direct his unease at him rather than the needle.