actin' kinda shady;; mizuki/ryuuhou
mizuki makes a new friend. bad kid aoba au
[[this is Bad and kind of old but the world deserved to see. let it be known this will never measure up to ryuuhou gives birth, possibly the greatest fic of our generation]]
ao3 link
It started out with Aoba inviting him to the club. He knew that his friend did weird shit on the weekend-- he had heard the rumors, gotten the drunk dials-- but he never imagined he would take part in it. Hell, Mizuki didn't even /want/ to, but Aoba had pleaded with him until the point where he couldn't say no. When they had gotten there, Aoba had introduced them to those shady as fuck kids they had gone to school with. The taller one (Tony?) grabbed his ass and laughed when he got mad, then dragged Aoba off with the glasses kid following behind without saying anything else to him. In short, they were dicks and Aoba was a fucking cunt for abandoning him in such a big place.
After twenty minutes of fruitlessly wandering around and looking for him, Mizuki sulkily sat himself at the bar and started in on the drinking. He thought he would get a drink or two in and then head out, or try to find Aoba.
"What's someone as pretty as you got any business looking so sad?"
Mizuki jumps about a foot in the air and almost falls off his stool, obviously not expecting company. The other man's presence was all-encompassing as soon as it was noticed; it wasn't as if he was some greatly impressive beauty, but something in his eyes was stifling. "'m not sad." He mumbled and smiled wanly at the stranger, who raised an eyebrow. "…is it that obvious?"
"Not really. I've just spent a lot of time here. I can tell when someone's trying to, oh, drown their sorrows." He frowned at Mizuki's fruity-looking drink. "Though you're going to have to go a lot stronger than that if you're trying to drown anything."
"I'm not really looking to get smashed--"
"Nonsense. I mean, you're here for a reason, you might as well have a little fun. What's the worst that could happen?"
Mizuki snorted, looking away and instinctively clutching the glass of his fruity drink tighter. "Famous last words."
Ryuuhou laughed.
♡♡♡♡♡♡
Mizuki wasn't a lightweight. He prided himself on being able to keep up when he DID go drinking with Aoba, who was a monster when it came to inebriating substances, but Mizuki might be able to drink even Aoba under the table. But when Mizuki started to notice the burn from his stomach and his throat permeating the air around him, he wasn't able to slow down-- Ryuuhou just kept ordering more and more, and maybe Mizuki was a little flattered that someone like him had not only sought him out, but was willing to stick around for more than one drink.
"You wanna dance…?" Ryuuhou's hand was laced tightly with his, and Mizuki wondered when that happened, but the flushed point of contact was welcome and longed for. Mizuki nodded, or he thought he did, and he floats to the dance floor, tethered to the earth by Ryuuhou's hand. The song was slow, or maybe it was too fast, but he lost whatever concentration he had on the music as soon as he pitched forward into Ryuuhou, who laughed and maybe said something. Mizuki could only think about the way Ryuuhou's hips were moving and the way the bass thumped up through his feet and moved him to the song that was too loud to hear.
The awkward push and pull of the grinding mass of bodies shoved the two towards the wall, and before Mizuki knew it his hips were hitting the hard surface, and, oh, Ryuuhou's hands were loud and apparent from where they sat on his hips and his shoulders and his face. It doesn't happen all at once. Ryuuhou's mouth discovers his neck, the curve of his shoulder, the swell of his jawline where his cheek meets his ear-- and he touches him little by little--
It goes on like that for a while, disjointed; it gets to the point where Mizuki isn't exactly sure how long it'd been, the dreamlike state of the club making him lose track of everything but the points of contact hardly broken between him and Ryuuhou. It's a gradual process of moving and stopping and pushing before Ryuuhou backs up with a little laugh, fingers still wound tight in the fabric of Mizuki's shirt. Mizuki whined, but couldn't make the effort to lift his head from the wall
"You're wasted." Ryuuhou whispered into his ear, mouth touching the skin under it delicately.
"A little."
"You still…?"
Hands tracing their way from Ryuuhou's back to his hips, Mizuki messily sighed. "I really should…um…" Struggling to remember what he had intended to do the whole time, Mizuki leaned his weight into Ryuuhou. "Find Aoba. Yeah."
Ryuuhou snorted, chest rumbling. "You can call him in the morning, Mizuki. How about we go to your place instead?"
Pushing the other man's chest but not breaking his grip, Mizuki pouted. "You're a dick. I don't want to have sex with you anymore."
"Well, if that's how you really feel, I guess it was nice meeting you." Ryuuhou waved, giving him an expression of dismissal and releasing his shoulders, causing him to fall back into the wall.
"Don't gooo…" He whined, outstretching his arms and grabbing at Ryuuhou's shirt. "I didn't meeean it…"
"You're wasted." Ryuuhou repeated, snickering and shaking his head. Mizuki thought that his favorite thing in the world was Ryuuhou's laugh. Smiling dreamily at Ryuuhou, Mizuki circled his arms around his neck, trying to kiss him but only getting the corner of his mouth. With a small mumble of "Christ, you're useless" Ryuuhou kissed him properly, in the way that made him feel like nothing else mattered. Maybe (definitely) he was just drunk, but, God, he'd never been into anyone like this before. Ryuuhou had a gravitational pull that was almost comically absurd in the way it afflicted him.
Mizuki's teeth flashed white in the dark when Ryuuhou pulled back. "So...my place?"
♡♡♡♡♡♡
The first thing Mizuki feels when he wakes up is the cold scratch of a wood floor under his cheek. The second thing that hits him is the pain, he's sore all over-- and the third is the memory of dark blue eyes and a pretty (but not nice) smile. "Fuuuck." Mizuki groaned, shutting his eyes tight and curling in on himself a little, not making a move to get up. He had fucked up. He had royally fucked up. "Oh, shit, Aoba..." He moaned, rolling over on his back and trying to get up. It took several tries and the assistance of his living room couch, but he got it eventually, stumbling into the kitchen and picking his phone up off the counter. He had to call him twice to get an answer.
"'llo?" Aoba sounded sluggish, as if he had been woken up by the call, even though a glance at the microwave clock confirmed it was 2 o' clock in the afternoon.
"Aoba? Are you safe? Did anything happen after I left last night?"
"Oh, you left?" Aoba murmured thickly, a tired, deep "Go back t'sleep, Aoba." interrupting him. "Triiiiiii-TRIP--" Aoba squealed, a rustling noise being the only thing heard through the phone as it was dropped. After a second, squeals and giggles were replaced with wet noises and heavy breathing.
"...hello?" Mizuki tried.
"He's still on the phone?" A different, higher voice chimed in. After a second, the noises got farther away, and a breathy laugh filled Mizuki's ear and made him shiver in discomfort. "Aoba is unavailable right now, but you should try back later." Mizuki thought he heard Aoba start to protest before the connection was cut, but he couldn't be sure through all the other noises he heard on the other side. Staring incredulously at the phone, Mizuki shook his head and set it down, feeling a lot better about the whole thing now that he knew Aoba was both safe and hadn't noticed his absence. Looking up and around his apartment, he sighed. Thankfully, there wasn't too much damage, but the coffee table was knocked over and the couch cushions were just about everywhere but the couch. Scrubbing a hand over his eyes frustratedly, memories of the exact person who had pretty much caused this loudly made themselves heard in his head. Oh, shit, was he still here?
"Ryuu- Ryuusuke?" No, that wasn't it. "...Ryuuhou?" Guardedly turning as if Ryuuhou might jump out from behind something, Mizuki scanned his apartment. "Ryuuhou?" He called again, unsteadily treading towards the bathroom. Poking his head in, Mizuki figured unless he was in the bedroom, Ryuuhou was gone. Wearily exhaling, he turned the bathroom light and squinted at himself in the harshness of the fluorescence, the soreness really making itself felt. He looked like shit. He had lost his shirt, but his boxers were back on (backwards, actually) and a single sock was still on his foot. Dark shadows lined his bloodshot eyes, and darker bruises littered his neck and chest and even down on his hips. He remembered that. Ryuuhou liked to do it hard, liked to bite and grasp and watch Mizuki squirm, and, wow, this was not something he needed to think about right that second. Brushing his teeth to get rid of the sour (salty?) taste in his mouth, he meandered his way to his bedroom, finding that Ryuuhou was, indeed, gone. "Wow. Asshole." The insult was thrown in an affectionate sort of way.
The bed, surprisingly, was neatly made, and nothing in the bedroom was disrupted, which lead Mizuki to think that they had never even made it there. Picking a shirt up off his dresser, Mizuki tugged it on, collapsing back into his bed after it was on. Considering going back to sleep, he turned on his side, only to find himself face-to-face with a previously unseen scrap of paper. Confused, he sat up, reaching for it and sitting up.
Mizuki-
We should do that again sometime, y'know, if you still want to get matching tattoos.
XXX-XXXX Call me.
The note wasn't signed, but Mizuki knew who it was from all the same. With a sharp noise of annoyance, he almost crumpled it up, but stopped reluctantly and slowly folded the note, holding it tightly in his hand. That asshole might have been full of himself to think there was going to be a repeat performance, but who was Mizuki kidding? As painful as it was to admit…Mizuki was drawn to Ryuuhou, and it wasn't just the booze or the atmosphere that had made him feel that way.
"Fuuuck." Mizuki repeated, flipping over violently and burying his face in the pillow. "Fuck." He groaned into the pillow. "Fuck, fuck, I like him." After a minute or so of silence, Mizuki growled loudly and turned his head, staring at the wall intently.
He-- he liked Ryuuhou, a lot more than he should have. He liked his dangerous eyes and mean fox smiles and he liked his hands, rough and worn and broken in. He liked the way his mouth tasted. He liked the way his skin smelled and the way that Ryuuhou looked at him when it was just them-- all alone in the dark with the streetlights softening the curves of his shoulders through the curtains.
The note felt heavy in his hand and Mizuki wished he could think about something else.
end;;
