Tension Break (BusGamer, Kazuo/Toki/Nobuto)
“Bye Toki!” Kazuo yelled, waving enthusiastically at the redhead from the other side of the street. “See you later!”
Toki paid no attention whatsoever and continued on his way. Kazuo stuck his tongue out at his back.
“Fine jerk,” he groused, shoving both hands in his pockets. “Don’t say goodbye. See if I care.”
Nobuto looked amused by Kazuo’s attempted non-concern. “Aw, did he hurt little Kaz’s feelings?”
“Stuff it assface!” Kazuo shot back reflexively, falling in step beside the scruffy college student as they started walking again. “I just don’t see what he has against bein’ friends and stuff. Would it kill him to open up a little?”
Nobuto shrugged. “Maybe.”
Kazuo shot him a dirty look and Nobuto held up his hands in defense. “Hey dude, don’t get your panties in a twist. We all have our own ways of winding down after a Game. Just ‘cause his is different than yours doesn’t mean you get to spazz out over it.”
Kazuo kicked at the sidewalk. “Yeah, I know. It just kinda sucks, y’know?”
They walked past a video arcade, sound effects and the rapid pinging of console keys cluttering the air. Kazuo glanced over wistfully. “Hey, Nobu,” he began, then scowled abruptly. “Actually, never mind.”
Nobuto gave him an even look. “What?”
“It was stupid. Forget it,” Kazuo grumbled, deliberately looking anywhere but the arcade. “Are we going, or what?”
A dark eyebrow arched. “You wanna play video games?”
“No. Shut up.”
Eying the taut line of Kazuo’s shoulders, Nobuto smirked in understanding. “A bit wound up there Kaz?” he teased, though not particularly unkindly. “Didn’t think the Games bothered you that much.”
Kazuo snorted derisively. “Where the hell’d you get a stupid idea like that?” He shrugged, plastering on a sheepish grin. “I usually stop by the arcade on my way home after a Game. Helps me relax, y’know?”
“Hmm.” Nobuto looked thoughtfully at the open door of the arcade, then at the nervous tension thrumming through Kazuo’s slight frame. The grin that flashed across his face would probably have sent Kazuo fleeing rapidly in the other direction had the electronics specialist not been so busy staring at his feet that he missed it.
Schooling his expression, Nobuto gave a deliberately causal shrug. “Oh, what the hell - we can play if you want.”
“Huh?” Kazuo’s head jerked up in surprise. “Really?”
“Sure. But not in one of those places.” Nobuto jerked his thumb dismissively at the arcade. “Come on. I’ve got a GameStation at my place.”
Kazuo blinked at him, goggle-eyed. “You play video games, Nobu?”
Amused again, Nobuto allowed himself a smirk. “You think I learned tactics from playing in the dirt as a child?” He glanced at Kazuo over the tops of his sunglasses. “You coming?”
“Sure!” All smiles again, Kazuo fell in behind as Nobuto led the way, completely oblivious.
Ah well, Nobuto thought to himself. He had always liked surprises anyway.
*******
“Come on in,” Nobuto invited, tossing his keys negligently onto the table as he walked into the room. He waved one hand towards the mass of clothing, notepaper and takeout containers taking over the space between his small TV and a ratty-looking green sofa. “The GameStation’s over there somewhere if you wanna dig it out.”
Toeing his shoes off absently, Kazuo made a face at the disaster that was Nobuto’s apartment. “There better not be anything in that mess that’s going to bite my hand off for going near it,” he warned, stepping gingerly across the littered carpet.
Nobuto grinned. “Don’t worry,” he answered, his tone amused as he shrugged off his coat and slung it over the back of a chair. “Most of the things in here ask first before they bite.”
“Oh, that makes me feel so much better, thanks.”
“Don’t mention it.” Sliding a cigarette between his lips, Nobuto began picking his way towards the kitchenette, one hand digging in his pocket for some matches. “You want a drink or something?”
Nobuto could just make out the top of Kazuo’s blond spikes over the arm of the couch as the boy bent and started sifting around in the pile. “No thanks. I don’t trust anything that’s been in your fridge.”
“Wise plan,” Nobuto told Kazuo, striking a match. The match hissed as it caught, dancing flame flaring brightly in the dim kitchen. Nobuto cupped one hand around it, breathing in deeply as the tip of his cigarette caught, the sensation of rich, heady smoke curling thickly through his lungs supremely gratifying after the rush and adrenaline of a Game. Ignoring his own advice about the fridge, he snagged a beer for himself, using the edge of the counter to flick off the cap.
“Score!” Kazuo declared suddenly, emerging triumphant with the GameStation in his hands. “And it’s already plugged in too. You ready, Nobu?”
“In a sec,” Nobuto demurred. “Gotta finish my smoke first. You can go ahead though.” He slumped casually against the wall by the kitchen, taking an absent swallow of his beer as Kazuo cleared off the couch and sat himself down, flicking on the GameStation with the enthusiasm of a five year-old.
It was some generic fighting game that Nobuto had picked up from god only knew where, abounding with overzealous muscle freaks and mini skirts in all the wrong ways. Not that Nobuto cared much because it was Kazuo he was watching, the familiar tingle of arousal almost as satisfying as his cigarette as he took his time appreciating the clean lines of Kazuo’s neck, the neat roll of his back under that baggy t-shirt of his as he pounded the controller. From this angle he couldn’t see Kazuo’s face, which was a shame, but he could imagine the keen concentration in summer-pale eyes, could picture the firm half-smirk that went with all that carefully reined-in energy whenever things were going well for Saitou Kazuo.
“Too easy!” Kazuo crowed as his on-screen avatar pummeled the daylights out of its opponent. Not much of a surprise really, considering the way the kid had with all things electronic. Kazuo twisted in his seat to throw a fierce, uncomplicated grin over one shoulder. “Come on Nobu!” he urged, practically humming with anticipation. “I’m gonna pound your ass in!”
And if that wasn’t a golden opportunity, Nobuto didn’t know what was.
He left his beer on the nearest available surface and stepped up against the back of the couch. Shifting his cigarette to one hand, he leaned forward until his chin was practically resting on Kazuo’s shoulder, dropping his voice to a low, smooth whisper that tickled along Kazuo’s ear. “Only if I can pound your ass afterwards.”
“Wha-?!” Kazuo jerked around in shock, mouth gaping open and eyes wide as saucers behind his glasses. Nobuto suppressed a smug grin, wondering if Kazuo knew how completely molestable he looked right now.
There was, after all, something to be said for clueless enthusiasm.
“You’re uptight, right?” Nobuto twisted his torso as he leaned further over the top of the couch, stretching an arm across Kazuo’s lap - hemming him in. “Let me teach you a much better way to unwind.”
“Wha… what the hell, Nobu?” Kazuo, Nobuto decided, had the best gaping fish imitation he’d ever seen. It wasn’t really helping his case much, though.
“Come on Kaz,” he purred, taking another drag of his cigarette just to see Kazuo’s eyes cross from the heady scent drifting past his face. “We’ve lived to Game another day. Doesn’t that deserve celebrating?”
Kazuo went rigid, a familiar righteous indignation flaring in his eyes as he tried to glare Nobuto down. “I’m so gonna kick your ass if you don’t stop it Nobu,” he promised.
Nobuto didn’t give him the chance to try, snuffing his cigarette out neatly in the ashtray on the side table as he slithered down to straddle Kazuo’s waist, pressing him into the cushions. “Hey now,” he chided, hands on Kazuo’s shoulders as he leaned in close enough that his hair fell midnight dark against Kazuo’s pale face. “No need to freak out. It’s just a little tension relief. You’re man enough for that, right?”
Anger snapped in Kazuo’s eyes as he opened his mouth - no doubt to tell Nobuto where he could stuff it. Nobuto set about putting that mouth to a much better use, closing the last few inches between them and enjoying the feel of parted lips sliding soft and moist beneath his own.
Kazuo sucked his breath in sharply and Nobuto pressed his advantage, tongue darting into the warm cavern of Kazuo’s mouth and finding a taste like mint and yakitori. A strangled groan shuddered through Kazuo’s whole body as Nobuto plundered his mouth leisurely, the GameStation remote clattering to the floor as it fell from suddenly nerveless fingers.
“Wa-wait. Sstop it,” Kazuo gasped, bucking slightly in an attempt to throw him off. Nobuto grinned and ground down hard, feeling his own eyes cross slightly as his erection brushed the hardness rising in Kazuo’s shorts. Kazuo choked on a curse, his whole body jerking, so Nobuto did it again, immensely charmed by the rosy flush that rose on Kazuo’s cheeks in response.
“Sensitive Kaz?” Nobuto asked, long fingers drifting down Kazuo’s chest towards the hem of his shirt. “Bet your video games don’t make you feel this good.”
Kazuo’s lips were wet and swollen and wonderfully distracting as he gasped for breath. “I don’t - don’t think we should, aaahh… be doing this.”
Nobuto started inching up Kazuo’s shirt, greedy hands roaming possessively across freshly exposed skin. “Why not?” he asked, punctuating the question with another hard, messy kiss. “You got something better to do?”
“No, I - aaaahh,” Kazuo writhed as Nobuto’s fingers found his nipples and teased them mercilessly. “It’s not, oh god…”
That whimper really did sinful things to his blood pressure. “So what’s the problem then?” Nobuto asked, growling slightly as Kazuo bucked unthinkingly into him. Glazed violet eyes blinked unseeingly up at him, overcome by sensation, and Nobuto felt a hot surge of arousal jolt through his veins. Oh, he was going to enjoy this.
Preoccupied as he was, Nobuto didn’t immediately register the scrape of a key in the lock, the protesting squeak of hinges as the door swung inwards and someone walked in.
Toki took a few steps into the apartment then stopped, a take-out bag held in one hand as he stared expressionlessly at the plateau on the couch. “Hmm,” he observed, placidly calm. “I take it this means you don’t want dinner first.” He shut the door absently behind him and moved forward. “You just can’t keep it in your pants, can you Nakajo?”
“Hey,” Nobuto defended, sitting up with a smirking pout. “Look at the kid. Can you really blame me?”
Toki glanced at Kazuo, who was still blinking dazedly up at Nobuto. “Hnn. Not really.”
“That’s what I thought.” Nobuto cocked his head to one side, his expression sultry through the curtain of his disheveled hair. “You plan on standing there all night?”
“Suppose not.” Toki hung his coat up in the closet and set his shoes neatly by the door. “Do you want this in the fridge?” he asked, hefting the bag.
“Nah,” Nobuto refused, lips quirking in a grin. “I’ve been told it’s a biohazard or something. Just stick it on the table.”
“Wha…” Kazuo was gaping again, and Nobuto was amused to see that he could go even redder than he already was when embarrassed. “I…he…TOKI???”
“Yes?” Toki asked, his normal, calm tone completely at odds with the way he was peeling out of his shirt and stalking towards the couch with a dangerous sort of hunger. He sank to the floor at the end of the couch, arms crossed next to Kazuo’s ear as he leaned in close. “Are you okay with this?”
Kazuo licked his lips hesitantly. “I…”
“We all deal with the post-Game high differently Kaz,” Nobuto reminded him, hands stroking lightly across the bare skin at Kazuo’s waist. “We thought you’d like help coming down from it.”
“You can leave if you want,” Toki offered, though he was reaching forward to pull of Kazuo’s glasses even as he spoke.
Kazuo blinked at Toki as the redhead folded his glasses and placed them carefully on the side table. “I think I… nngh god, would you STOP that, Nobu?”
Nobuto blinked up at him innocently, tongue still tracing absent patterns on Kazuo’s quivering abdomen. “Why?” he asked, fighting the urge to grin at the Kazuo’s frustrated huff.
“Because it’s distracting dammit!”
Toki almost smiled. “That’s the point.” His own tongue darted out to lick a long trail up the curve of Kazuo’s neck, nibbling on the tender skin. Kazuo keened and arched into the contact, chest heaving as he gasped.
“So?” Nobuto asked, fingers slipping just under the waist of Kazuo’s jeans and pausing, waiting. “Whaddaya say Kaz? Wanna unwind with us?”
“Ungh, oh fuck it, yes!” Slim, computer-savvy hands reached down to tangle in his hair even as Toki surged up onto the couch, straddling Kazuo’s chest so that his groin was practically in the younger boy’s face, trapped arousal straining against the fabric of his pants.
“Good,” he purred, and Nobuto shuddered at how much that sound still turned him on. He could only imagine what it was doing to Kazuo. “We were hoping you’d say that.”
Toki paid no attention whatsoever and continued on his way. Kazuo stuck his tongue out at his back.
“Fine jerk,” he groused, shoving both hands in his pockets. “Don’t say goodbye. See if I care.”
Nobuto looked amused by Kazuo’s attempted non-concern. “Aw, did he hurt little Kaz’s feelings?”
“Stuff it assface!” Kazuo shot back reflexively, falling in step beside the scruffy college student as they started walking again. “I just don’t see what he has against bein’ friends and stuff. Would it kill him to open up a little?”
Nobuto shrugged. “Maybe.”
Kazuo shot him a dirty look and Nobuto held up his hands in defense. “Hey dude, don’t get your panties in a twist. We all have our own ways of winding down after a Game. Just ‘cause his is different than yours doesn’t mean you get to spazz out over it.”
Kazuo kicked at the sidewalk. “Yeah, I know. It just kinda sucks, y’know?”
They walked past a video arcade, sound effects and the rapid pinging of console keys cluttering the air. Kazuo glanced over wistfully. “Hey, Nobu,” he began, then scowled abruptly. “Actually, never mind.”
Nobuto gave him an even look. “What?”
“It was stupid. Forget it,” Kazuo grumbled, deliberately looking anywhere but the arcade. “Are we going, or what?”
A dark eyebrow arched. “You wanna play video games?”
“No. Shut up.”
Eying the taut line of Kazuo’s shoulders, Nobuto smirked in understanding. “A bit wound up there Kaz?” he teased, though not particularly unkindly. “Didn’t think the Games bothered you that much.”
Kazuo snorted derisively. “Where the hell’d you get a stupid idea like that?” He shrugged, plastering on a sheepish grin. “I usually stop by the arcade on my way home after a Game. Helps me relax, y’know?”
“Hmm.” Nobuto looked thoughtfully at the open door of the arcade, then at the nervous tension thrumming through Kazuo’s slight frame. The grin that flashed across his face would probably have sent Kazuo fleeing rapidly in the other direction had the electronics specialist not been so busy staring at his feet that he missed it.
Schooling his expression, Nobuto gave a deliberately causal shrug. “Oh, what the hell - we can play if you want.”
“Huh?” Kazuo’s head jerked up in surprise. “Really?”
“Sure. But not in one of those places.” Nobuto jerked his thumb dismissively at the arcade. “Come on. I’ve got a GameStation at my place.”
Kazuo blinked at him, goggle-eyed. “You play video games, Nobu?”
Amused again, Nobuto allowed himself a smirk. “You think I learned tactics from playing in the dirt as a child?” He glanced at Kazuo over the tops of his sunglasses. “You coming?”
“Sure!” All smiles again, Kazuo fell in behind as Nobuto led the way, completely oblivious.
Ah well, Nobuto thought to himself. He had always liked surprises anyway.
*******
“Come on in,” Nobuto invited, tossing his keys negligently onto the table as he walked into the room. He waved one hand towards the mass of clothing, notepaper and takeout containers taking over the space between his small TV and a ratty-looking green sofa. “The GameStation’s over there somewhere if you wanna dig it out.”
Toeing his shoes off absently, Kazuo made a face at the disaster that was Nobuto’s apartment. “There better not be anything in that mess that’s going to bite my hand off for going near it,” he warned, stepping gingerly across the littered carpet.
Nobuto grinned. “Don’t worry,” he answered, his tone amused as he shrugged off his coat and slung it over the back of a chair. “Most of the things in here ask first before they bite.”
“Oh, that makes me feel so much better, thanks.”
“Don’t mention it.” Sliding a cigarette between his lips, Nobuto began picking his way towards the kitchenette, one hand digging in his pocket for some matches. “You want a drink or something?”
Nobuto could just make out the top of Kazuo’s blond spikes over the arm of the couch as the boy bent and started sifting around in the pile. “No thanks. I don’t trust anything that’s been in your fridge.”
“Wise plan,” Nobuto told Kazuo, striking a match. The match hissed as it caught, dancing flame flaring brightly in the dim kitchen. Nobuto cupped one hand around it, breathing in deeply as the tip of his cigarette caught, the sensation of rich, heady smoke curling thickly through his lungs supremely gratifying after the rush and adrenaline of a Game. Ignoring his own advice about the fridge, he snagged a beer for himself, using the edge of the counter to flick off the cap.
“Score!” Kazuo declared suddenly, emerging triumphant with the GameStation in his hands. “And it’s already plugged in too. You ready, Nobu?”
“In a sec,” Nobuto demurred. “Gotta finish my smoke first. You can go ahead though.” He slumped casually against the wall by the kitchen, taking an absent swallow of his beer as Kazuo cleared off the couch and sat himself down, flicking on the GameStation with the enthusiasm of a five year-old.
It was some generic fighting game that Nobuto had picked up from god only knew where, abounding with overzealous muscle freaks and mini skirts in all the wrong ways. Not that Nobuto cared much because it was Kazuo he was watching, the familiar tingle of arousal almost as satisfying as his cigarette as he took his time appreciating the clean lines of Kazuo’s neck, the neat roll of his back under that baggy t-shirt of his as he pounded the controller. From this angle he couldn’t see Kazuo’s face, which was a shame, but he could imagine the keen concentration in summer-pale eyes, could picture the firm half-smirk that went with all that carefully reined-in energy whenever things were going well for Saitou Kazuo.
“Too easy!” Kazuo crowed as his on-screen avatar pummeled the daylights out of its opponent. Not much of a surprise really, considering the way the kid had with all things electronic. Kazuo twisted in his seat to throw a fierce, uncomplicated grin over one shoulder. “Come on Nobu!” he urged, practically humming with anticipation. “I’m gonna pound your ass in!”
And if that wasn’t a golden opportunity, Nobuto didn’t know what was.
He left his beer on the nearest available surface and stepped up against the back of the couch. Shifting his cigarette to one hand, he leaned forward until his chin was practically resting on Kazuo’s shoulder, dropping his voice to a low, smooth whisper that tickled along Kazuo’s ear. “Only if I can pound your ass afterwards.”
“Wha-?!” Kazuo jerked around in shock, mouth gaping open and eyes wide as saucers behind his glasses. Nobuto suppressed a smug grin, wondering if Kazuo knew how completely molestable he looked right now.
There was, after all, something to be said for clueless enthusiasm.
“You’re uptight, right?” Nobuto twisted his torso as he leaned further over the top of the couch, stretching an arm across Kazuo’s lap - hemming him in. “Let me teach you a much better way to unwind.”
“Wha… what the hell, Nobu?” Kazuo, Nobuto decided, had the best gaping fish imitation he’d ever seen. It wasn’t really helping his case much, though.
“Come on Kaz,” he purred, taking another drag of his cigarette just to see Kazuo’s eyes cross from the heady scent drifting past his face. “We’ve lived to Game another day. Doesn’t that deserve celebrating?”
Kazuo went rigid, a familiar righteous indignation flaring in his eyes as he tried to glare Nobuto down. “I’m so gonna kick your ass if you don’t stop it Nobu,” he promised.
Nobuto didn’t give him the chance to try, snuffing his cigarette out neatly in the ashtray on the side table as he slithered down to straddle Kazuo’s waist, pressing him into the cushions. “Hey now,” he chided, hands on Kazuo’s shoulders as he leaned in close enough that his hair fell midnight dark against Kazuo’s pale face. “No need to freak out. It’s just a little tension relief. You’re man enough for that, right?”
Anger snapped in Kazuo’s eyes as he opened his mouth - no doubt to tell Nobuto where he could stuff it. Nobuto set about putting that mouth to a much better use, closing the last few inches between them and enjoying the feel of parted lips sliding soft and moist beneath his own.
Kazuo sucked his breath in sharply and Nobuto pressed his advantage, tongue darting into the warm cavern of Kazuo’s mouth and finding a taste like mint and yakitori. A strangled groan shuddered through Kazuo’s whole body as Nobuto plundered his mouth leisurely, the GameStation remote clattering to the floor as it fell from suddenly nerveless fingers.
“Wa-wait. Sstop it,” Kazuo gasped, bucking slightly in an attempt to throw him off. Nobuto grinned and ground down hard, feeling his own eyes cross slightly as his erection brushed the hardness rising in Kazuo’s shorts. Kazuo choked on a curse, his whole body jerking, so Nobuto did it again, immensely charmed by the rosy flush that rose on Kazuo’s cheeks in response.
“Sensitive Kaz?” Nobuto asked, long fingers drifting down Kazuo’s chest towards the hem of his shirt. “Bet your video games don’t make you feel this good.”
Kazuo’s lips were wet and swollen and wonderfully distracting as he gasped for breath. “I don’t - don’t think we should, aaahh… be doing this.”
Nobuto started inching up Kazuo’s shirt, greedy hands roaming possessively across freshly exposed skin. “Why not?” he asked, punctuating the question with another hard, messy kiss. “You got something better to do?”
“No, I - aaaahh,” Kazuo writhed as Nobuto’s fingers found his nipples and teased them mercilessly. “It’s not, oh god…”
That whimper really did sinful things to his blood pressure. “So what’s the problem then?” Nobuto asked, growling slightly as Kazuo bucked unthinkingly into him. Glazed violet eyes blinked unseeingly up at him, overcome by sensation, and Nobuto felt a hot surge of arousal jolt through his veins. Oh, he was going to enjoy this.
Preoccupied as he was, Nobuto didn’t immediately register the scrape of a key in the lock, the protesting squeak of hinges as the door swung inwards and someone walked in.
Toki took a few steps into the apartment then stopped, a take-out bag held in one hand as he stared expressionlessly at the plateau on the couch. “Hmm,” he observed, placidly calm. “I take it this means you don’t want dinner first.” He shut the door absently behind him and moved forward. “You just can’t keep it in your pants, can you Nakajo?”
“Hey,” Nobuto defended, sitting up with a smirking pout. “Look at the kid. Can you really blame me?”
Toki glanced at Kazuo, who was still blinking dazedly up at Nobuto. “Hnn. Not really.”
“That’s what I thought.” Nobuto cocked his head to one side, his expression sultry through the curtain of his disheveled hair. “You plan on standing there all night?”
“Suppose not.” Toki hung his coat up in the closet and set his shoes neatly by the door. “Do you want this in the fridge?” he asked, hefting the bag.
“Nah,” Nobuto refused, lips quirking in a grin. “I’ve been told it’s a biohazard or something. Just stick it on the table.”
“Wha…” Kazuo was gaping again, and Nobuto was amused to see that he could go even redder than he already was when embarrassed. “I…he…TOKI???”
“Yes?” Toki asked, his normal, calm tone completely at odds with the way he was peeling out of his shirt and stalking towards the couch with a dangerous sort of hunger. He sank to the floor at the end of the couch, arms crossed next to Kazuo’s ear as he leaned in close. “Are you okay with this?”
Kazuo licked his lips hesitantly. “I…”
“We all deal with the post-Game high differently Kaz,” Nobuto reminded him, hands stroking lightly across the bare skin at Kazuo’s waist. “We thought you’d like help coming down from it.”
“You can leave if you want,” Toki offered, though he was reaching forward to pull of Kazuo’s glasses even as he spoke.
Kazuo blinked at Toki as the redhead folded his glasses and placed them carefully on the side table. “I think I… nngh god, would you STOP that, Nobu?”
Nobuto blinked up at him innocently, tongue still tracing absent patterns on Kazuo’s quivering abdomen. “Why?” he asked, fighting the urge to grin at the Kazuo’s frustrated huff.
“Because it’s distracting dammit!”
Toki almost smiled. “That’s the point.” His own tongue darted out to lick a long trail up the curve of Kazuo’s neck, nibbling on the tender skin. Kazuo keened and arched into the contact, chest heaving as he gasped.
“So?” Nobuto asked, fingers slipping just under the waist of Kazuo’s jeans and pausing, waiting. “Whaddaya say Kaz? Wanna unwind with us?”
“Ungh, oh fuck it, yes!” Slim, computer-savvy hands reached down to tangle in his hair even as Toki surged up onto the couch, straddling Kazuo’s chest so that his groin was practically in the younger boy’s face, trapped arousal straining against the fabric of his pants.
“Good,” he purred, and Nobuto shuddered at how much that sound still turned him on. He could only imagine what it was doing to Kazuo. “We were hoping you’d say that.”