Title: The Value of Patience
Recipient's name: Everyone!
Rating: Hard R/Low NC-17 (sex is not particularly graphic)
Pairing(s): Marui/Kirihara, mentions of past Yanagi/Kirihara
Warnings: None, really, other than interrupted sex and a punch in the face. Jealousy/misunderstandings.
Disclaimer: This story is based on characters and situations created by Konomi Takeshi. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.
Author's Notes: Futurefic, putting them in the 22-23 range. I'm sorry this is so disjointed and seems kind of rushed. There are a lot of things I'd like to expand on, but time constraints these past few weeks have kicked my ass a bit. I tried to include a handful of your kinks (however poorly), so I hope you enjoy at least some part of it. I don't do well writing angst or humor, so there isn't much, but hopefully there's enough :-) Enjoy and happy santa_smex! That said, I'd like to thank my other half, G-chan, for supporting me and holding my hand through this just as often as she tried to distract me from it. &hearts
Hey, we still on for tomorrow? I got tickets to that live!
Bunta shoved his phone back into his pocket – knowing Akaya, it'd take another four or five hours before he actually responded, if at all. He'd grown so used to this sort of thing that the distinct chime of a new message was certainly unexpected.
Shit, sry, can't. Work tmr nite. Wants me @ opening 4 new place
Bah. He made a face at the message, his mouth twitching in annoyance. Didn't it just fucking figure. Every fucking time they arranged to do something, Akaya backed out. This week he had to work. Last week he had to go somewhere with Renji. The week before, he was "too tired". And honestly, if Bunta didn't know any better, he would have sworn that his former teammate was trying to avoid him.
Fine. Whatever. I'll go without you or see if someone else wants to go. Good luck & tell Renji I said hi.
His phone was still in hand when another new message came.
I'm sorry, okay? It was last-minute, the guy that was supposed to do it ditched out and I'm the only other person who knows what to do. We can go Sunday. -- Renji says don't be a stranger.
Sunday. Ha. That's what he'd said last week.
You're coming if I have to drag you out and handcuff you. And tell Renji that if he tries to make you work, I'll personally come over there and kick his ass.
Renji. It was always Renji. He understood perfectly well that Renji was Akaya's boss, and as such there were things Akaya needed to do for him. However, it seemed that even when he wasn't working, Akaya still spent most of his time with Renji and completely ignoring anyone else.
Hahaha ok. He said you don't need to, I've got Sun-Wed off. Cya.
Well then. Perhaps things wouldn't turn out as badly as Bunta had thought. With four days off in a row, there was no way Akaya could worm his way out of this one with his lame excuses. Somewhat pleased with himself and slightly less annoyed, Bunta slid his phone back into his pocket and went back to what he was supposed to be doing – his own job.
In spite of the large crowd and the noise, the venue seemed to be one where anyone could be considered right at home in. It spoke of class and elegance that could suit even the pickiest of businessmen, but at the same time had enough newer-generation style and flair to draw a younger, more rambunctious crowd.
Bunta stepped through the door alone and wove his way through a sea of bodies. The band wasn't due to play for another hour, yet the place was already packed and the crowd getting restless. He picked his way towards the stage for a decent spot – Niou would never forgive him if he wasn't right there cheering.
The closer he got, the more he noticed – the guitarist was fiddling with his amp, someone was running back and forth checking lights and connections, and Niou was standing near the back of the back of the stage speaking to . . . someone who shouldn't have been there. With a frown Bunta shoved his way through the crowd and, ignoring several small barriers, climbed up on to the stage.
"Hey, this area's for the band and staff members only!" Akaya called, slightly distracted by whatever Niou was telling him and not noticing exactly who it was that had intruded.
"I'm with the band." Bunta growled as he stalked forward. Once within striking distance, he threw a punch directly at Akaya's face. "Had to work, huh? Couldn't come with me, right?" He seethed, rubbing his now slightly pink knuckles and preparing himself for another attack.
"Ow, what the fuck, asshole!" Akaya shouted, rubbing his jaw in irritation. Ha. Ha ha fucking Ha. Wasn't this just brilliant? How the fuck was he supposed to know that the club he was supposed to be working that night was the same one the live Bunta had gotten tickets for was in? Moreover, why the fuck was he the one getting punched in the face. "Yeah, I had to work. So what the fuck'd you have to hit me for?"
"Because you're a lying piece of shit," he ground out, lunging forward again. Niou, however, decided that it just wouldn't do to have blood all over the stage he was set to play on and grabbed Bunta's wrist, an arm slinging over the shorter man's shoulders and pulling him away with a grin.
"Hey hey, Sugarcakes. Nice to see you, too. But if you don't want to get thrown out, I'd suggest not punching the interim-manager in the face again. I'll be pissed if you can't be here to witness my awesome." He noogied a now bewildered-looking Bunta.
Bunta looked at Niou, then Akaya, then his fist, and back at Akaya. "Manager?" He asked weakly – no way. He was (still) a genius, he just didn't make mistakes like this. "You're joking, right? Niou?"
"Didn't I tell you? This place is the new club Renji opened with Inui-san. Renji wanted me here for opening night because the only other guy at the other club with enough experience backed out. It's temporary, though, until he finds someone else. Told him I didn't want to be manager, it don't suit me at all." Akaya rubbed at his jaw again – fuck that hurt. "And Christ, man, ask questions before you shoot, next time."
"You didn't tell me what club it was, asshole."
"Eh, whatever. Crossed wires and all that. Now get off the stage, it's almost time to start. I'll find you later." He gave Niou an apologetic glance as he stepped forward, grabbing hold of Bunta's arm to escort him back into the crowd.
Bunta did not seem overly thrilled at being bossed around by a man younger than him, but all the same, he followed without complaint. "You still could've told me you made manager, jerk." Wasn't that what people in relationships were supposed to do? Share in all the exciting things and actually talk?
"I'm sorry, okay? It's been crazy trying to get things ready. I've barely had time to sit down, let alone make phone calls." He edged closer to Bunta, raising a hand to let his fingers slide lightly across the back of his neck. "Once the show's underway and things have settled down a bit, I'll come find you, okay?" His head dipped, lips brushing lightly over the corner of Bunta's mouth. "Promise. So stick around."
"Yeah, all right." With a slightly better attitude and mood Bunta grinned, tugging on a lock of Akaya's hair and turning away. "You owe me, by the way. You've been standing me up all month." With that, Bunta disappeared into the crowd.
Half an hour later found Akaya with his immediate business finished, and free time until the show ended and he'd have to get the DJ set up for the rest of the night. After a few minutes of searching he found exactly what he was looking for and wove his way through the crowd, his hands moving to grip Bunta's waist from behind as his chin dropped on the other's shoulder. "Enjoying yourself?" He asked close to Bunta's ear, voice just loud enough to be heard over the din of screaming fans and electric guitars. His hips swayed with the beat of drums as he pulled Bunta closer.
"Having a blast," Bunta nearly purred, muscles relaxing as he leaned back against the sometimes-obnoxious young man that held his heart. "But I think I could use a drink."
Akaya smirked. He supposed there were perks to being the manager – however temporarily – of a place Renji owned; one being having his own office, and another being all the free booze he could possibly want. "Right this way," he said as he pulled away, tugging at one of Bunta's wrists.
Several minutes later and accompanied by two glasses and a bottle of liquor, the two young men found themselves locked away in a small, but comfortable office. Drinks were poured and toasts were made, and soon the pleasant warmth of alcohol filled their stomachs.
Laying back on a plush love seat and using his partner as a footrest Akaya set his glass aside, yawning slightly as he scratched at his head. "So what do you wanna do on Sunday? You've got me all to yourself."
Fueled by several weeks of feeling ignored or brushed aside, and perhaps the small amount of alcohol he'd consumed, Bunta wormed his way out from under Akaya's feet to crawl on top of him; arms folding over Akaya's chest and eyes watching the younger man's face. "Mmm . . . I don't know, yet. But I was thinking a little of everything you promised, but didn't deliver."
His arms curled around Bunta's waist, fingers tracing up the slight bumps of his spine and finally coming to rest at the small of his back. "Define 'everything'." In the four years he'd known Bunta outside of school, as something other than an upperclassman or teammate, he'd come to expect that Bunta's answers weren't always what they seemed. In a situation like "everything", it could be one or two things, or, quite literally, everything.
"Everything." Bunta raised himself to hover over Akaya, watching him for a moment before speaking. "A little of this," his head dipped, mouth catching Akaya's in a short kiss before he moved a bit lower. "Maybe some of this," His tongue laved along the line of Akaya's neck, teeth scraping over damp skin and a gentle bite administered.
"I might be convinced," Akaya murmured as his head tilted to the side, exposing more of his neck for his partner's game. "Anything else?" He asked, hands now sliding restlessly over Bunta's back.
"It depends," Bunta purred, allowing himself to slide further down Akaya's body as his hands began to wander aimlessly across his boyfriend's chest. "Pure genius can't be rushed, you know." A hand slid under Akaya's shirt, calloused fingers brushing over smooth skin and teasing a nipple erect. "You just have to be patient."
You're one to talk about patience. Akaya wanted to say as breaths quickened and came out in soft, audible puffs. He arched to the touch, hands now tugging almost desperately at the form-fitting shirt Bunta wore. "It's--" He hissed as Bunta shifted to rest between his legs. "A deal. A little of everything." He moaned softly as the other moan rubbed against him, legs spreading and hips rolling to meet him. He was slowly losing any sense of coherent thought and, perhaps, self-preservation – he was beginning to wonder if just doing this right here and right now was worth possibly having to find himself a new job come morning.
Bunta smiled – a smug, self-satisfied smile. "Good," he murmured, a hand sliding down between their bodies to fumble with the button and zip of his partner's jeans. "But if you back out . . . . "
"I won't," Akaya choked out as Bunta's hand slid under the waistband of his pants. Fuck it. If Renji had a problem with him christening the new office this way, he knew exactly where he could bite him. Hands busied themselves tugging Bunta's shirt away from pale skin as he leaned forward, lips seeking lips as he caught the other's mouth in a hard, hungry kiss. He couldn't deny it – he'd missed this just as much, if not more than Bunta had. To hell with work schedules and other obligations, he had everything he needed right here and now.
"Patience," Bunta reminded against Akaya's mouth, tongue slipping over a swollen lip gently. It was kind of cute how Akaya liked to try to take control, and sometimes Bunta let him – but not now. Now he was in charge, and he was the one calling the shots. His hand slowly worked the other man through his shorts, keeping his touch light and teasing.
A growl rumbled deep in Akaya's chest as he rocked against Bunta's hand, his head dropping to rest his forehead on the other's shoulder. "Patience, my ass," he panted. His own hands continued to wander, mouth soon following suit as he nipped at Bunta's neck and collarbone.
"Patience, and it will be." He replied cheerfully – it wasn't a threat, it was a promise. But enough of that, he had work to do and no one, especially not Akaya, was going to keep him from doing so. His free hand pushed against Akaya's chest, shoving the larger man onto his back as he settled over him, a wicked smile gracing his lips as he got back to work. Pants were lowered enough to allow Bunta to pull his prize free, hand curling loosely around Akaya's erection and thumb brushing lightly over the tip.
He was enjoying himself perhaps a bit too much – the way Akaya writhed beneath his hand and the soft, desperate sounds he made were far more intoxicating than the alcohol had been. Slowly but surely he worked his way down Akaya's body, tongue lapping at any bare patch of skin he could find until finally he reached his goal. He licked the head once, then paused for a moment, letting warm breath ghost over the damp, sensitive skin.
"Fuck!" Akaya nearly screeched, hips bucking and body aching for more of the soft, wet, heat and pressure, for more of anything. "Quit fucking around, just do it already!"
They'd both been so absorbed in each other that neither of them had heard the telltale scrape of metal on metal or the click of a lock's tumbler. It wasn't until a slightly amused yet still benign voice broke their trance. "Are you still so adverse to waiting, Akaya? Don't you know the importance of foreplay?" Renji asked, arms folded across his chest and an eyebrow perked curiously.
Bunta froze, the cogs that had been turning in his head apparently stalling. After several long moments his brain seemed to start working again, and he immediately backed off – first horrified, then slightly angry. "I thought you locked the door, idiot!" He yelled, hurrying to make himself more presentable; it didn't matter that everyone in the room had seen each other nude on numerous occasions, but nude while in the midst of any sort of sexual contact was another story altogether. And then, "What the hell is he talking about?"
"I did!" Akaya yelped, quickly sitting up and stuffing himself back into his pants. And fucking shit, why did Renji have to go and say that? Now he'd have to answer questions he didn't want to answer – namely what, when, and where. He'd never mentioned a previous relationship because he hadn't thought it mattered, and thus far Renji had done the same. But now . . . "Fuck," Akaya swore, getting to his feet and straightening out his clothing. "I'll tell you later, okay? Just . . . it's not what you think." The look in his eyes clearly pleaded temporary forgiveness.
Renji made no indication of hearing Bunta's question – that was between him and Akaya. "I have a key." he said pleasantly, holding up the keyring he held. "It is my club, after all. And as it is my club, I expect my employees to do their job. The show is over, Akaya, you have work to do." He stepped away from the door and held it open, waiting for Akaya to leave. Once he had, he turned to Bunta. "I apologize, it appears I've caused some trouble. I do suggest you hear him out before you kill him, though."
Fuming, Bunta simply shrugged and brushed past him. "Maybe. I'll see you later, Renji."
Are you coming, or what? You're the one who said I was going if you had to handcuff me and drag me.
Bunta glared at his phone. Fucking Akaya. Did he really expect him to get over this so quickly? Yeah fucking right.
You're on your own, jerk. I'll come when I feel like it.
Akaya didn't even have the energy to reply.
"Are you even going to bother listening to me? Or are we just going to sit here all night glaring at each other." Akaya asked, frustrated. Anything he tried to say, Bunta ignored. Anything he tried to explain, Bunta refused to believe. It was almost like talking to a wall, but slightly less entertaining.
"Why should I listen? Are you going to tell me just what it is exactly you've been during all those quote-unquote extra hours at work? Because if you are, I really don't want to fucking hear it."
"No, I'm not, because there isn't anything to tell. You act like you can't fucking trust anything I say, when I've never given you a reason not to."
"Right, so if it's 'not what I think it is', what is it? I'm not fucking stupid, Akaya."
"First off, I know you're not fucking stupid. Second, there's nothing going on. I'm not enough of an asshole to go around cheating with someone we both fucking know – or at all – and I can fucking well bet you Renji'd murder me if I tried, even if I fucking wanted to."
"But you're enough of an asshole to completely blow me off all the time for him."
Akaya got to his feet and paced across the room irritably. "Yeah, I guess you're right. But he's my boss. If I don't work, I don't get paid, and if I don't get paid, I can't afford to take you out anywhere. I sure as fuck don't like working overtime or having to go in on my days off because some douchebag can't tell his ass from a hole in the ground. That's part of the reason why I refused when he offered me the manager position permanently. I could use the pay increase, but I value my sanity and my time off more."
"You still haven't answered my question as to what it was that 'wasn't what I think'." Bunta interjected, staying firmly planted in his seat and a deep frown on his face. "Why, exactly, does he know, if you're so intent on proving me wrong?"
Well, if Bunta wanted to listen, he'd tell. "He knows because he's seen it. Heard it. But that was years ago. Right before you lot graduated. I was fucking seventeen. Call it being a stupid teenager or whatever. I don't even really remember why other than he was there and I was there and it happened. Did it twice, and not once since then. Ask him yourself if you don't believe me."
After several minutes of tense silence, Bunta finally spoke. "Fine. I believe you. But if there's anything else you never bothered telling me, do it now."
"No, that's it." Akaya replied, flopping himself back into his chair. "He was the first, and only, before you." Christ. How the hell did things get so complicated?
"Good. Now let's go get something to eat, being pissed off at you made me hungry. And because you were the one who pissed me off, you're paying."
"If you say so, Bunta."
It was several weeks before things went back to "normal", so to speak. Renji seemed to understand that he was creating an additional burden, and thus had kept Akaya at work after hours and on his days off only when he was absolutely needed – something that made both Akaya and Bunta quite happy.
"That movie kind of sucked, didn't it?" Akaya asked as they stepped out of the theater, not really expecting an answer.
A devious smile curled on Bunta's lips. "Right up until somewhere in the middle," he said, linking his arm with Akaya's at the elbow. "But you managed to keep me entertained." The blowjob hadn't been his idea, but, quite honestly, at the time he really didn't have a choice in the matter and certainly wasn't going to complain.
"I do pride myself in being the life of the party," he replied with a smirk, leaning down just far enough to nip at Bunta's ear. "So what say you we get this party started?" Akaya purred, his arm moving to curl around Bunta's waist and sliding his thumb in the waistband of his pants, stroking along smooth skin.
"Impatient." Bunta muttered, leaning closer and enjoying the warmth his boyfriend's body provided. "But I don't mind so much. Come on." The expression on his face was particularly devilish, and soon enough a room had been rented for the evening and was quickly put to use – Bunta had the feeling Akaya would have been perfectly happy to go at it in the closest park or alley, but outside was cold and no one needed scraped knees.
It was only a matter of minutes before clothes had been stripped and tossed aside and naked bodies slid against each other. Bunta's mouth worked its way down Akaya's chest, kissing and licking, nipping and gently biting the pale flesh bared before him. The fingers of one hand linked with Akaya's as the other hand slid over his stomach and legs, the touch light and teasing and avoiding any direct contact with his eventual prey.
Akaya moaned softly as his body arched, his free hand restlessly petting and tugging at Bunta's hair while the other squeezed his hand. "I've had enough already," he breathed, stretching beneath Bunta and sucking in a deep breath when a hand finally slid over his cock. "Just do it." He'd been more than ready before they'd even left the theater, there wasn't any reason for Bunta to prolong the rather pleasurable torture.
He supposed, for once, he could give Akaya the instant gratification he always seemed to desire. With the flick of his tongue over a pert nipple Bunta pulled away, leaning across the bed to snag a tube of lubricant out of Akaya's pants pocket – several previous encounters such as this had led them to always be prepared for anything.
In no time at all the cap was popped and the viscous fluid coated his fingers; fingers that soon carefully worked their way into Akaya's body. His free hand stroked the younger man's straining erection, fingers sliding over the head and shaft in a long, slow rhythm. With a guttural moan Akaya rocked back and forth, pushing himself against Bunta's hand and arching into the warm palm enveloping his cock. "Hurry up," he panted, clawing at the sheets with desperation.
Enough, he figured, was enough; they'd certainly done this enough that extensive preparation wasn't necessary. Fingers were slowly extracted as he sat back on his haunches, fisting a hand around his own aching erection and pumping himself several times. He leaned forward again, hovering over Akaya, sultry, hooded eyes watching his partner's skin flush with every touch. Settling himself between Akaya's legs Bunta eased forward, head lowering to nuzzle against Akaya's neck and gasping softly with every inch he penetrated.
Akaya didn't waste a second, his arms curled tightly around Bunta and nails dug into his skin, body ready and eager and more than willing to take whatever punishment could be thrown at it. His head tilted back as Bunta kissed along his neck and up his chin. He mewled softly when Bunta caught his lips, tongue flicking out to meet the other's in an age-old dance of passion.
He welcomed the feel of Bunta against him; the roughness of his hands, the scent of his skin and the gentle look hidden within lust-filled eyes. That was all he needed, the feeling of being wanted and lusted for, the feeling of being loved by someone he cared about. He murmured against Bunta's mouth – nothing in particular but still just as meaningful. Akaya's legs spread wider as the older man shifted, body twisting and his movements getting faster and rougher.
Growls and moans filled the thick air, beads of sweat forming on already slick skin as their bodies entwined. Hands and mouths wandered, kissing, licking, scratching, biting, just touching every part of each other they could manage as they thrust against each other.
"Haa . . . " Breaths were becoming more and more labored with each thrust of hips and twist of Bunta's hand, and within minutes the younger man let out a hoarse cry, his semen spilling between their bodies.
"Better?" Bunta purred, his movement unceasing as he milked his partner. His own climax was fast approaching but he was determined to make it last, each shift of his pelvis becoming almost unbearably slow until finally he just couldn't take any more.
They lay quietly for several moments, hearts beating quickly in their chests and breaths coming out ragged. Akaya's hand rose to ruffle through Bunta's hair, cradling his head against his chest. "You're so fucking hot like this," he murmured, shifting beneath the other's weight.
"Mmm . . . You look better." Bunta replied quietly, head tilting only far enough to allow him to give Akaya's chest a small bite before letting his tongue lave softly over it. "Love you, you bastard."
"Love you too, asshole." Akaya said fondly, fingers curling gently in Bunta's hair and tugging slightly. "Ready to go again?"
Their days continued as usual, and their nights began to change – now more often than not they were spending the night together; their bond of trust somehow more solidified.
Hey, Yukimura's in town, and we're going out for drinks. Wanna come?
Akaya would have loved to, but Renji had him virtually strapped down to the club for the evening. Damn private parties.
Can't tonight, working late. Sorry! I'll give you a call when I get out.
Didn't it figure. At least, Bunta supposed, this time it hadn't been something they'd been planning for weeks.
Stay put, we'll go there. He wants to see your stupid seaweed head again.
Akaya ignored the look Renji gave him as he chuckled. Ten years later and Yukimura was still giving him shit for his hair. Bastard.
Go ahead and tell him thems are fighting words, and he'd better bring something to back it up.
"He hasn't changed much, has he?" Yukimura asked, amused. It seemed their former ace would never lose his competitive streak.
"If anything, he's gotten worse." Bunta grinned.
He said he loves you too. See you at 9.
It was nice for things to more-or-less be back to normal. Relationships always had their bumps, but hopefully this was one they could keep behind them.
Art by ? (I lost the link). If you happen to know, please drop a line so the artist can be properly credited!