-`quinn´-

baji goes off to do another round around the room and try not to look like he's trying too hard to insert himself into a conversation or two. it would probably help if he knew any damn thing about the shit these snobs are talking about, but that's usually been chifuyu's point of interest, and he's been really good at securing the funding for the projects that he'd been planning out for xj land, and… well… he's basically been doing everything else while kazutora and he mostly fucked around. he supposes he should cut himself some slack because of all the university work he had to do. a lot of long nights cramming for exams, lab projects he needed to somehow put into words. something like this event would really be a good opportunity for the store if he manages not to fuck it up.

suddenly, the air turns a few degrees hotter. he really hopes he doesn't fuck it up…

he controls himself, refusing to punch something to let out some steam. but he needs something to do with his hands now, something that's not one of those incredibly crumbly little tarts that the staff keep distributing on large shiny platters. he got those crumbs in his shirt when he tried one, and he can still feel them against his chest.

a piss and a drink. that should get it sorted.

the toilets are surprisingly crowded, he expected majority of people to be fawning over some of the donors, debasing themselves and throwing their dignity away for a hand-out, but there's a couple smaller groups of men—about a few years older than him, he assumes—who keep smoking and laughing by the sinks. he pushes down the need to cough as his nose senses the stuffiness of the air in here, but he's mostly invisible to them as he walks past these gatherings to go for a piss.

there's a disgusting noise coming from the stall next to where he's trying to relax his bladder and get this over with before he loses the will to behave. he can hear the toilet seat lowering and rustling of pockets before the man next door leaves, moments before baji does. they nearly collide, and baji wrinkles his nose in disgust when he spots a faint dusting of white under the man's nose. rich cunt probably doesn't even think about how many lives that shit ruins every day, how many people he's seen fuck up their entire futures—

he balls his fits, but doesn't take it further than that. tearing himself away from the stale, smoky air, he can finally breathe once the door to the toilets are closed.

chifuyu better be fucking proud of him…

the moment that his hands touch the cold smooth surface of the bar, he knows he was seconds away from exploding. there's a crowd on the opposite side, ordering a bunch of drinks from the overworked bartender that's clearly hoping to get an extra fat tip if he does everything with a dazzling smile. baji would've spat in their drinks.

"you ordering or just standing here?" he hears a voice so unlike the stuck-up self-important ass-kissers he's been trying to tune out all evening.

he dares not turn his head too fast, out of an irrational fear that this voice will turn out to be a figment of his imagination, but he lets his peripheral vision and the corner of his eye construct an image of the dress you're wearing and the casual way you're leaning your elbow on the bar. you're swirling your drink with a straw, the ice clinking against the glass almost completely drowned out in the noise of the conversations that blur into one another.

"thinking." he simply responds, but the bartenders aren't paying attention to him. there are hands waving to grab their notice, orders being almost shouted at them, glasses pushed towards the edge to get refilled.

"think quickly, handsome, before they run out of the good stuff." this time he looks. maybe he shouldn't have.

immediately he's at a loss, despite thinking he's immune to the charms of those who think themselves better just because they have money to throw around and the power to get away with anything, one look at your grin disarms him of whatever clever comeback he thought he could come up with.

"what's the good stuff then?" he asks, sliding only slightly closer to where your crossed legs dangle off the edge of the high stool.

it doesn't escape him that your eyes trail down his entire height and back up again, your tongue darting slightly to keep the end of your straw against your lips. he feels warm all over, the back of his neck burning, but he refuses to give you the satisfaction of looking away and knowing you've flustered him successfully.

"depends on what you like…" you hum and put your glass down. there's a mint leaf stuck to the wall of it, he catches a faint scent of something light and fresh coming from your drink. "though you look like a beer kind of guy. no offence." you add it with such a cheeky giggle that it's hard not to smirk at least a little.

"none… taken?"

"you don't seem so sure, handsome. come on, drink with me." your insistence is endearing in a way, when he thinks about it. baji's instinct is to frown, scoff, and turn away, because who the fuck do you think you are, telling him what to do, as if you're his better. but the mischievous glint in your eye, the casual swish of your wrist, the way your lips teeth press that short straw flat, the effortless tone in which you're speaking to him… not like you're trying to tame him and prove something, but more like he's someone you've been waiting for. a promise of a better evening, a scent of a dazzling storm on the horizon.

he beckons the bartender, successfully this time, and orders a beer. ignoring your soft laugh at his order, he turns towards you and raises his glass, expecting you to toast with him since you're so fuckin' fancy.

"bad luck to toast with an empty glass." you shake your head.

"but it's not emp—" he shuts his mouth when you take out the straw and down your drink in one swoop, barely making a face. you signal the bartender for another, which is served to you so quickly his mouth is still slightly hanging open. "okay then."

"to the quick and painless end to this boring event." you lift your glass and look him in the eyes, and for a moment there baji can swear the rest of the room around you two blurred. he takes a sip and shifts on his feet, suddenly unsure how to act around you.

he may be a little scared, for all he knows. such an odd feeling spreads through his body and pours into his fingertips, something like electricity, warm and cold at the same time. he still wants to keep a shred of that defiance he's been pushing down around everyone out of fear he'll fuck this up. but your smile is shedding layer after layer of that anger inside him until he's once again feeling like a kid, a little giddy, a little nervous, magnetically attracted to the way you look at him through your lashes.

"the painless part is already a failure." he snorts before taking another sip. where only moments ago he was trying to find a way to down his drink and make the event go by a little easier, now he finds himself wanting to slow down time, if anything just to hear you talk.

"you too, huh?" you chuckle, making him look at the way your lips curl up. he shouldn't be noticing that. "i ran into someone getting down and dirty in the toilets. just wanted to pee in peace, but no, i suppose their happy ending was more important than my bladder."

"rich cunts really don't give a fuck, do they?" baji rolls his eyes.

"no, we really don't." you chuckle into your glass. we? he scoffs and shifts again, feeling the tie around his neck get a little too tight as he swallows. "oh don't look at me like that," you sound amused, like he didn't just indirectly call you a cunt, "it's just an unfortunate consequence of being born into my family."

baji doesn't feel like it's very unfortunate. in fact, he could think of at least ten different things he would be doing if he had been born into any rich family. none of which are complaining about being rich. or even wasting time with guys like himself.

"why are you here then?" he turns somewhat glum, feeling a little cheated, having thought that he found someone that he could commiserate with. but what was he expecting? camaraderie at a gala that's essentially just an opportunity for the already well-off to secure funding for whichever property they want to buy and claim it's for charity, write it off as a business expense or whatever the fuck they do… what a joke.

"being a little more than generous with my dad's money." you say it so casually, like it's no big deal flicking your wrist and spending however many figures you feel like. he's deeply jealous, he can feel that toxic feeling deep in his gut. suddenly, his beer tastes sour. he looks down at the foam like it personally offended him. "you? here for some good cause or just to sneer at everyone around? i have to say… i do enjoy sneering. one of my favourite hobbies."

baji tries not to laugh, not to give you the satisfaction of knowing he's considering you more human than the rest. but the way you talk to him, he wants to believe you're more down to earth, that you're actually genuine, not expecting him to dance like a monkey to make a case for himself. but… his shoulders give him away, and you smile wider as much as he can see from the corner of his eye. you're not letting him get away with it, determined to plunge the both of you into a silence until he answers you. he already hates this.

"uh… yeah." he clears his throat, trying to think of how to best say the basics and hopefully get you to spend some of that daddy's money on xj land. "i uh… work at a pet store. we're planning a few projects to reach out to animal shelters and try to secure funding for them. help with vet bills and stuff." he looks at you again, and you seem to be really listening, nodding along and pushing him to continue. "and a project to collaborate with a guide dog training facility."

he busies himself with drinking his beer, trying to push down the heat that's already rising to his cheeks and hoping that he's not blushing. those were the main talking points that chifuyu had been writing down on countless post-it notes around the store and even in the toilets, making it baji's most common literature to enjoy during breaks.

"that's very sweet." you nod, downing that drink. it turns out to be a mistake, because a couple of young looking, clean-shaven guys in expensive suits have been shifting closer to where baji's standing next to you, almost imperceptibly inserting themselves into the conversation seeing your empty glass as an opening and offering to buy you a refill.

he tries to ignore their blatant disrespect and disregard for his presence, instead just trying to remember if he needed to mention anything else about the planned projects. if chifuyu were here he would've known what to say, how to interrupt, how to make sure he's being heard. but all that intended brain work goes out the window when one of the assholes puts his hand on your leg.

blood rushes into his head. with fists balled up and squeezed tightly, he looks for your face between their bodies, a brief flash what he can only take to be panic glistening in your eyes before you let out an awkward chuckle. he's aware that he has known you for a very short time, but he'll be damned if he lets this behaviour slide.

"i don't think you should touch her like that." he murmurs loudly enough to be heard. they turn slowly, though that offending hand is still resting on your knee.

most of the following few minutes feel like a blur with how hard adrenaline hit him. he's aware now that he said some nasty stuff, used words he was forcing himself to swallow all evening, but they burst out of him at the sight of those disgusting self-important faces that were sneering at him. he felt those looks like a punch in the gut, but now, walking along the paved path away from the venue, he can finally breathe again.

"slow down!" the clicks of your heels on the stone shake him back into the moment, your breathless voice pulling him to a stop. "okay, you don't need to stop completely—" you chuckle, catching your breath.

you don't seem angry that he practically dragged you away from the event, doing his very best to avoid making a scene even though his knuckles were begging to connect with someone's jaw. they're lucky that he had promised to be on his best behaviour.

"sorry," he says through gritted teeth, "they just—"

"thank you, that was very kind." you smoothen the fabric of your dress and, now, standing up, your legs are no longer visible, having disappeared into the safety of the material. he curses himself for noticing, even more for mourning it.

"it's no big deal." he shakes his head, stuffing his hands into the suit jacket pockets.

"well… now that we're free…" you let the word hang in the air, smiling once you see his eyes widen slightly. "oh come on, don't tell me you want to go back."

"my uh… my friends are there." he feels childish just saying that, but the two idiots he came with have always been more or less a safety net. he wonders if any of them noticed his disappearance.

"and i'm right here. and you might need another drink, now that we've dealt with all… that."

he stands in front of the register at the corner shop feeling like an idiot in that stupid suit. he should really be making the moves you've already taken upon yourself, picking out a bottle to share between the two of you and paying for it. he was going to, but you were quicker with the elegant swoop of your hand that pulled a couple of rolled up bills from your bra—he was completely taken aback and fascinated by this. on the way out, you pull your arm through his, walking alongside him like you're old friends, carrying a bottle so precariously between your thumb and index finger, like breaking it wouldn't be much of a waste. baji feels an odd sense of calm now, like whatever had happened was over before the two of you left the corner shop and now the world is different. no rich cunts, no inappropriate touching, no violent thoughts. just a pretty girl, a seemingly out-of-place guy, and a darkening sky.

"so…" you begin once you've found a nearby bench, sitting with your knee folded on the seat so you can turn to face him, "keisuke." you repeat his name after he finally told you.

"something wrong with my name?" he challenges, raising one eyebrow.

"on the contrary. it's pretty. i like how it feels in my mouth." he tries not to think about that, tries not to imagine how it would feel to be in your mouth. damn it, it's like you don't even realise what your words could do to him. or maybe you do and you're just plain evil.

instead of teasing you for it, though, he takes the bottle from you and takes a swig, letting you rest your cheek on your hand as you unabashedly stare at him. if he plans on surviving this—you, so bold and interested; him, so flustered and still feeling the adrenaline from earlier mixing with some sick desire to protect you—he needs at least a little bit of alcohol in him.

"why don't you like being there?" he means, of course, at the gala. you seem to fit in enough, you're confident, you walk like you belong, you've got money to cover any possible mistake you could make. but the bored state he found you in at the bar, it made you look like you saw him as a saviour even before he dragged you away from those handsy bastards. almost like he's what you were waiting for all evening.

"that's not a life i want to be in."

he takes another swig before you take the bottle from him and indulge in it yourself. baji swallows, realising your lips are touching the mouth of the bottle where his lips were as well. he should stop noticing these things. your legs are crossed again, so he's finding it hard not to look down and appreciate the skin showing under that soft looking material.

"so why go? you're an adult, you can say no, can't you?" he doesn't ask why you don't want to be a part of it all. it seems miserable on a deeper level. yeah, having a disgusting amount of money would make life so much easier, but the brief run-in with the man in the toilets made him angrier than he should be. he understands that it corrupts something in a person, it must do, since they parade around in expensive cars, expensive suits, eating expensive food, drinking expensive alcohol, and all that to impress each other in a metaphorical circle jerk all the while people around the country—and world—are suffering and starving. baji takes that bottle again, purposely placing his lips right where yours were, this time thinking about what it would be like to kiss you directly.

you sigh, and a shiver catches his eye as your arms fold over your chest in an attempt to chase away the slight breeze. "i was hoping the evening would go okay… you know, it's not all bad all the time." you move a little closer, probably subconsciously looking for warmth, and baji feels like a furnace under his suit. "last year there was a really nice hospital representative. we got to talking, and i talked my dad into giving them a huge donation. she and i go out for a drink almost every month since."

"okay, but everyone else there looks like they're just pouring money from one bulging pocket to another." he scoffs and starts shrugging his jacket off.

"usually is. they make me sick. i sometimes go partly to remind myself how gross they are, how lucky i am to have a conscience. or something resembling one." you shiver again as he wraps his suit jacket around your shoulders. he can feel the smooth skin on your shoulders as he makes sure the jacket stays on and doesn't slip, but that smooth skin hits him with static, a shock of how good it feels to even touch you this lightly.

baji has spent most of his life—present day included—despising people who have money and don't do anything to help others, he's seen plenty of overcrowded animal shelters and overworked volunteers and veterinarians, too many to think anything more than the very least about the rich cunts who must feel like gods deciding on who's going to get a tiny particle of their wealth so they could feel good about their souls. but seeing you acting so… normal? he could've passed you on the street not knowing that he hates your family on principle. even worse, he wants to touch you again, he wants to taste your lips on his, and somehow it doesn't really matter that you're from completely different worlds because the only thing that concerns him right now is that you're here with him and safe.

how did he let himself get here…

"well… this seems to be a better party than whatever they're doing." he nudges your hand with the bottle and smirks when you wrap your fingers around it, accepting and tipping it back until it's nearly empty, saving him the last mouthful.

"this party could last forever." you wink, pulling his jacket tighter around your shoulders as he finishes the bottle.

"should've got another bottle then." he leans his elbow on the back of the bench, and maybe it's just his boldness getting released with some of the alcohol in his system or your charm rendering him completely useless against it, but he slides a little closer to you.

"no…" you follow his move, leaning in slightly until your knee touches his thigh. "i wanna feel all of this."

as your voice goes lower, his head tilts down. in a way, he knew this was bound to happen, it was clear in the sparkle in your eyes before he even knew how to read it. every action this evening, good or bad, led to him kissing you.

baji's eyes fluttered closed as soon as your lips touched, no matter how much he was trying to keep a sliver of vision to make sure you're actually doing this and not just messing with him. this close, he can smell the perfume you haven't applied since you left your home, making room for the natural scent of your skin to prevail and hypnotise him. he can smell the drink you've shared with him, he can taste it on your tongue as it brushes against his.

once his brain stops short-circuiting, once you pull away and lean in again and kiss his lips with a little more confidence, once you scoot closer to him on the bench, baji cradles the back of your head like he's afraid you'll disappear. he wants to keep kissing you, to drown in your lips, because as his good as his name must have felt in your mouth, he's sure his tongue feels even better.

the next time you pull away, he's still dazed a little, and opening his eyes to see your face flushed because of him makes his heart beat a little faster in his ears.

"hmmm," you rub your lips together, looking up at his parted lips, "can we do that again?"

he doesn't need to be asked twice. this time, he's the first one to take the plunge, to capture your pouted lips into a harder kiss, steamy in the way his skin is burning to be touched, his mouth trying to devour you whole. like the past few hours are the only hours that matter, his mind and body cling to the idea of having you as he pulls hums and moans from your lips.

you're so damn into it, he notices, and instantly regrets being outside in this moment. there's nothing he wants to do more right now than to hear more of the noises you could make for him, feel more of your body than the back of your head, taste more than the saliva in your mouth.

baji feels the uncomfortable tension in his crotch, the stiff fabric of his trousers restricting his erection as your hand reaches out and tucks a strand of his long hair behind his ear.

fuck, the tenderness in your touch will undo him. he shifts his hips on the bench, trying to figure out how not to go insane while his hard-on pushes against the zipper of his trousers. you notice, grinning against his mouth while you nip his bottom lip with your teasing teeth.

"you're so handsome," you repeat what you called him at the start of the evening and his eyes go wide, "been thinking about kissing you since i saw you."

a little bit of heat flows into his cheeks, pinching the very tops of them red while he imagines what must have gone through your head when he slid next to you at the bar and you looked at him with those dazzling eyes and smiled with that straw between your teeth.

"pretty sure i'd have kissed you back then if you tried… you're so damn gorgeous." he breathes, throwing out any sense of self-consciousness at what he's admitting.

"not at the bar." you chuckle and pull back ever so slightly, just so you can see this eyes, the colour of coffee and ten times warmer, his lips, slightly parted as if still anticipating a kiss, a shine of his sharp canines in the warmth of his mouth. "before that. you were so cute… frowning at every person that came near you. real guard dog energy around you."

normally, he would be offended, you were watching him before he was aware, taken in his behaviour and assessed him all while he hadn't even seen you. though, your hand still lingers on the back of his neck, your lips just out of reach until you bring them closer again, kissing him like it will fix every bad minute wasted at that stupid gala. somehow, it does.

he's breathing in your soft moans, tasting more than just the drinks on your tongue; desire, excitement, the energy that he wanted to see on you ever since you eagerly downed that first glass.

"my car." you simply breathe out once you pull away for air.

baji's stunned for a second, panic floods his mouth. you're not trying to leave, are you?

"are you good to dri—"

"not driving." you giggle, and he's slowly catching on as you look deep into his eyes. he gets it. he gets it so much that his cock begs for release behind the zipper of those stupid pants. baji smirks and takes your hand, swooping you off your feet until he's walking back towards the venue with so much more determination than before. you giggle and yelp as he carries you, your feet dangling while you hold onto his neck.

he doesn't even puff up his chest when the valet gives him an odd look and hands you the keys while you're still in his arms ("keisuke will be taking me and my car home, thanks."—he felt a surge of pride when you said his name like that.) like this is a common enough situation that nobody had to be alerted. following your navigation, the point of your finger and your mouth making beeping noises that get faster as he gets you nearer to your car which… well, he didn't expect something so cute.

"she's vicious on the road, trust me." you say through light giggles as he lowers you onto the back seat and crawls in after you.

"oh yeah i bet everyone around you is so afraid." the door barely closes behind him when you grab his tie and pull him on top of you, wrapping your legs around his waist as you kiss him hungrily.

your dress bunches up around your thighs, revealing more of that smooth skin he's been wanting to touch—his hands trail up your thighs until the tips of his fingers reach the waistband of your panties. there's something addicting in the way your hips lift to meet his hard bulge just trying to exist. you're wasting no time, unbuttoning his shirt with such agility that he has to be at least a little bit impressed, all the while feeding your mellow sighs into his mouth as he tries to detach his hands from your soft thighs.

you tug his shirt off, humming in appreciation once he shrugs it down his arms and you touch along his forearms, trailing those clever fingers up his biceps in admiration.

"god if we had more space…" you murmur, kicking your heels off your feet so you can drag one foot down his back.

baji can't help the laugh that escapes him, shaking his head as he hikes your dress up a little higher until he can push your panties to the side and groan at the sight.

"ahhh fuck…" he mutters, with one hand reverently parting your slick folds, with the other unzipping his pants until he can tug them down his thighs along with the boxers just enough to free himself. his cock is painfully hard, twitching under the weight of your gaze as you lift your head just enough to see what's about to fill your needy cunt.

"you can't be real." you chuckle, leaning your head back against the seat barely giving you enough space to lie semi-comfortably. he leans over you, one hand wrapped around the base of his cock and pumping it slowly, the other tracing your slit like he's mapping you out until he's got the shape of your pussy memorised.

"very real." he whispers, parting his lips as his finger dips into your clenching cunt and he feels you tense under him. "that feel real?"

you nod, violently so, angling your hips until his finger curls upwards and you're rewarded with the feeling of his fingertip pressing your spongy, warm, most loving spot. "god… right there."

"there?" he hums, pulling his finger out and sliding it back in, surprised by how easy it is, how wet your pretty cunt got just waiting for him to fuck you. "feel good?"

"mhm…" your hums turn to little gasps, gasps to moans, and soon enough you're rolling your hips up fucking yourself on his agile finger. but it's not enough for baji.

"god that's so hot." he groans, pulling his finger out with a wet pop and a disappointed whine from your lips. "no, no, come on. no whining." he props himself up on one hand, digging into the seat beside your head, as he leans over you and kisses your pout. "i'll make it feel better, look."

his promise is quickly fulfilled as his other hand guides his cock to your opening, warm and slick and ready for something more than just his finger.

you're so pliant and needy under him. your hands grip his shoulder and back, your bare feet pushing into his lower back almost rushing him to fill you. but he needs to take a little bit of time, sinking inch by agonising inch is like a reward for him, feeling your walls accommodate his girth while your eyes roll back. as his balls press against your sopping cunt, he's already feeling accomplished.

"keisuke…" you moan, pecking his lips while he groans against your mouth. "kei… that good?"

he's not sure if you mean the nickname or the way in which your warm cunt takes him, so he just nods, resting his forehead against your shoulder before he can pull back, only slightly.

pushing back inside is a testament to how well-behaved he is being tonight. your car is not spacious enough to have him kneel on the seat comfortably, but he's trying to be as close to you as he can this time, his hips grinding against yours, the fabric of your panties rubbing against his pubic bone when he bottoms out.

"fuck… so… fucking… good." your eyes flutter when he grunts those words with every roll of his hips into you, his thick base is pushing apart your folds, stretching them to enter as your welcoming cunt takes him so perfectly.

whimpering, you're shushed by his lips attacking your mouth when his elbow digs into the seat next to your head. his body heat lingers between your panting bodies as he keeps driving the tip of his cock into your willing, tightening cunt that keeps sucking him in like it wants him to stay. baji's getting drunk off of the moans that fall from your lips onto his tongue, they keep him going, thrusting, speeding up until he's gritting his teeth trying to keep it together while his balls slap against your soaked folds.

and your devilish legs… you keep pulling him towards you because god forbid he pull out of you more than this, barely enough to keep you stuffed full of his cock at all times. you're insatiable and he loves your greed. your fingers tangle in his long hair, tugging on it as your hips lift up to meet his desperate thrusts.

"kei…" you moan, breathless after you bit his lip when your neglected little clit finally started getting some friction from his pubic bone rubbing against it. "hnnn fuck— i… need to—"

you sink your teeth into his bicep, turning your head to the side. his first instinct is to hiss, but the pain keeps him going, the pressure of your pearly whites in his muscle only has him snap his hips into your cunt harder, willing to push you over the edge that you warned him about.

"keep going, pretty girl." he rasps out, groaning into the side of your head while your mouth leaves wet patches on his arm. the hand in his hair tightens, and so do your soft walls, sucking in his relentless cock while he tries to at least let you ride out your orgasm before he bursts and leaks inside you.

with a loud cry you shudder and he feels your cunt pulsing around him, releasing your pleasure in waves while he glides in and out of you carrying you both over the threshold, because he can hardly keep going when you get so damn warm and wet and fucking tight, so his cock spills into you while he groans into your hair.

barely slowing down, he's pulled into you by your legs locked behind his back, your bare thighs squeeze his sides, and the most saccharine moans that he's ever heard in his damn life shimmer in the stuffy air in your small car.

finally… he slows down to a stop and your weeping cunt stops so viciously contracting around him. your breaths slow down, your chest stilling as he leans some of his weight against you, the fabric of your dress cold against his hot chest. you cradle him against yourself, like he did with the back of your head when you merely made out earlier on the bench. baji hears your heart beat loudly against his ear, and can't help but smile a little, because the gala is ongoing out there, but he's abandoned his mission in order to feel how well you could take his cock, how you could moan his name, how you could come undone under his warm body on the backseat of your own car.

"kei?" you ask, folding up a tissue after you've cleaned up the cum leaking from your sensitive and used cunt.

"mmh?" he's just finished buttoning up his shirt and runs a hand through his hair. it feels almost casual, like he didn't just empty his balls inside you while your sugary voice whined for him. putting on clothes after sex should feel more uncomfortable than this, but he can't help stealing glances at you as you pull your panties back and grin back at him.

"this project of yours, how much do you need for it?"

expecting his brain to think about anything other than how pretty you look in the afterglow of him fucking you is borderline cruel. your hair is still a little messy, so he reaches out to fix a few strand in place while he thinks about how to walk the line between wanting to make good for his job and not wanting you to think that he fucked you for money.

"don't worry about m—"

"no, don't do that." you shake your head, shifting on the squeaky leather seat until you're almost sitting on his lap. he doesn't think he has another round in him just yet. maybe another drink or at least something to eat first… "i was gonna do it before everything anyway… as soon as you mentioned it by the bar."

your hands cup his face and he, a sucker for it, leans into your touch like an overgrown cat. if he could, he's pretty sure he'd start purring.

"are you su—"

your finger across his lips stops that thought. you're cute, looking all stern. or at least attempting to do so. "don't piss me off." you straddle him now, preventing any potential escape. "i told you i wanted to spend an ungodly amount of money on good things. let me do that. come on, think of the animals."

he grins behind your finger and shakes it away before his hands trail up your back and pull you closer into a slow, languid kiss. it feels like more than after-sex kiss, more than a thank you kiss, more than an i-just-met-you-today-and-yet-i'm-addicted-to-you kiss. he has to give it to you, you're persuasive, because after all it's not about him or even chifuyu or xj land. it's about whom they can help with this project, and this money.

"okay." he takes your hands in his and kisses your knuckles, savouring your soft skin against his lips. "fine. god, so pushy." your forehead meets his in a gentle bonk.

"i promise…" you begin, your shoulders slightly shaking with laughter, "i didn't agree to it just because of your dick… but damn."

baji rolls his eyes, realising it's very easy to forget that you're on a completely different social level than him, especially when you're sitting on his lap like this, talking about his dick after you came on it. "don't push me, pretty, or i'll give it to you again right now."

"oh no no no…" you chuckle. "the next time i will need a little more space… got a feeling you could manhandle me really well."

a conspiratorial smile lifts his lips, and in turn yours as well.

"oh i'll show you just how well." he grabs your hips and pulls you closer until you're pressed up against his chest completely.

baji's so gone, lost in the kiss that cracks the air in this stuffy car. it smells of sex, of your perfume, of your body. how quickly he got addicted to all of those.

⋆˙⟡ burekforsatoru || do not modify, repost, or feed to AI. likes and reblogs appreciated, nice comments make your skin clear.

❀

"We're out of green onions," he announced with his head inside the fridge. "And ginger. Grandma said we have to buy soy sauce and it has to be the right brand."

"Which brand?"

He turned around with an expression that said he had absolutely no idea.

"Great," you said. "Really helpful."

"She showed me once. It has a red label. Or maybe yellow." He pulled out a tote bag from the cabinet and dropped it on the counter in your direction. "We'll figure it out when we're there."

"The market is a fifteen minute walk in this heat."

"Then we should leave now."

"Caleb—"

He was already heading for the door. "Come on."

You grabbed the bag and your sunglasses and followed him out into the heat, which hit you like a wall the second you stepped off the porch.

The neighborhood was quiet on summer afternoons, everyone wanted to be inside with their fans on. You walked beside Caleb through streets you'd both known since childhood, past the park, past the corner ice cream store with the faded awning, past Mrs. Yuen's house with the wind chimes that had been making the same sound for fifteen years.

He was telling you about an incident with a new recruit that had happened at a training exercise last month and you were laughing.

"Did he get hurt?" you managed.

"Bruised his ego more than anything." Caleb pushed your sunglasses up. "Poor guy spent the rest of the session pretending it hadn't happened."

The market was cool and smelled like the same brand of air freshener they'd been using since you were ten. You grabbed a basket and split off toward the vegetables while Caleb wandered in the direction of the snack aisle, which —you'd learned over years of shared grocery runs— meant you were going to spend the next several minutes complaining about his choices.

You found the green onions. Found the ginger. Turned the corner into the snack aisle and found Caleb standing in front of the chips with two bags in his hands, deliberating.

"We don't need chips," you said.

"Yes we do."

"We have food at home."

"Chips are not food, chips are a separate category." He held them both up. "Salt and vinegar or barbecue."

"Neither. We're here for dinner ingredients."

"And chips." He put the barbecue in the basket.

You took it out. He put it back in.

"Caleb."

"It's for the walk home. You'll want some on the walk home."

"You are so—" You stopped, pointed at his chest. "Fine. One bag. And you're carrying it."

He was already reaching for a second one.

"One bag."

"Salt and vinegar for you, barbecue for me. That's technically one bag each which is—"

"That's two bags."

"One per person."

You let him keep both bags because the alternative was standing in the snack aisle for another five minutes.

The soy sauce took longer. You found the section, found approximately ten different brands, and stood there for a moment in silence.

"Red label or yellow?" you said.

"I said I wasn't sure."

"You said you'd seen it."

"I'd seen it, I didn't memorize it."

"Caleb, if we get the wrong one—"

He picked one up, turned it over, put it back. Picked up another. "This one looks right."

He put it in the basket and you picked up a different one, compared the labels side by side, and put his back and kept yours.

He switched them back the moment you turned away.

------

You were outside, bag on Caleb's shoulder, chips already open when your hunter's watch went off.

The sound cut straight through everything. Your hand was in the chip bag one second and at your holster the next, the muscle memory of it faster than conscious thought. The screen had gone red.

Wanderer detected. Class: High energy anomaly. Proximity: 100 meters.

Caleb stepped in close "Behind the market. Let's go."

You were already moving.

---

The alley ran behind a row of shops, narrow and shadowed, the air warping at the far end and that meant the Wanderer had already been there long enough to disturb local reality. You pulled your gun and kept your back to the wall, moving fast. Caleb came in on the other side, gravity already building at his hands, the air around his knuckles bending in a way that meant he was ready.

The Wanderer was enormous, the geometry of it not quite making sense no matter which angle you looked from. It moved fast for something that size, swinging a limb in your direction before you'd fully cleared the corner.

You fired twice. The shots connected and it shrieked, momentum redirected enough that the hit meant for you shattered a section of wall instead.

"Flank!" Caleb called.

You were already going wide. He pulled gravity in from the left, compressing the Wanderer's movement, slowing it just enough for you to get behind it and put three more shots into the joint where two of its limbs connected. It screamed and lurched sideways.

"Keep it off the street," you yelled over the noise.

"Working on it." He dragged it backward with a gravity pull that made the pavement crack under the force of it, steering it further into the alley.

It was not a clean fight. It kept redirecting, slamming into the walls, filling the alley with debris that you had to dodge while maintaining your sight lines.

Eventually the thing started to slow. Eventually it disappeared.

Then you saw it.

On the ground where the Wanderer had dissolved — a Protocore, small, throwing off an iridescent white that you'd never seen from a Wanderer before.

"That's not standard," Caleb said, coming to stand beside you. He crouched down to look at it without touching it. "I've never seen one this color."

"Me neither." You holstered your gun. "I should take it to HQ."

"Agreed." You crouched beside him, reaching for the core at the same time he did, and your hands closed around it simultaneously.

White light erupted.

It collapsed inward, pulling everything —sound, light, air, the alley— into a point of white noise and wind, and then nothing, a few seconds later there was a floor coming up very fast.

You hit the carpet with a thud that knocked the breath out of you.

Caleb landed beside you, one arm slamming down to catch his weight before he pushed himself up.

"Are you hurt," he said, breathing hard.

You did a fast inventory. "No. You?"

"No." He looked up. Looked around.

You were inside a huge apartment. Carpeted floor and warm light from the windows. A long couch. A coffee table with papers on it. A mug. A jacket draped over the back of a chair.

Someone's apartment.

You stood up slowly. Caleb was already at the bookshelf, and you followed, and then you saw the first photo and everything in your chest felt strange.

It was you. You and Caleb, standing somewhere sunny, laughing at something out of frame. You were wearing a jacket you didn't own. His hair was slightly different, grown out and pushed back.

There were more. The two of you at a restaurant, faces close across a small table. A shot of you asleep on a couch, and Caleb sitting at the other end with a book, but whoever had taken the photo had caught him looking at you and not at the page.

Your throat felt tight.

"This is my apartment," Caleb said quietly, from somewhere to your left.

You turned to look at him. He was looking at the leather jacket on the chair. His leather jacket, the one currently in his wardrobe back at the base. A pilot's manual on the shelf, the same one he'd been working through. A mug from the Farspace Fleet. A framed photo of your grandmother that matched the one at home.

"The photos—" you started.

"I know."

He crossed to the coffee table, picked up the newspaper and scanned the top page. He held it out.

The date at the top was two years from now. Exactly two years.

---

You spent the rest of the afternoon going through the apartment with careful attention, very aware you were somewhere you weren't supposed to be. You were trying to understand what the last two years had produced.

Caleb's future self left notes everywhere. Fridge, desk, bathroom mirror. His handwriting but with a different quality to it, more settled. There were more photos than you'd first noticed — tucked into the edges of the mirror in the hallway, stuck to the inside of a cabinet. A birthday card in your handwriting on the desk, standing open. A second toothbrush in the bathroom.

You both looked at that for a moment.

"I'm not going to say anything about any of this," you said finally, standing in the kitchen with your arms crossed.

"Good call," Caleb said, from the doorway.

"I'm —this is a lot of information."

"It is."

"And I'm not drawing any conclusions."

He went quiet.

The sun went down. The apartment went from warm gold to dark while you sat on the floor of the living room eating crackers you'd found in the cabinet, your backs against the couch, the Protocore sitting on the coffee table throwing faint white light across the ceiling.

"We'll figure out how to get back," Caleb said.

"I know."

"Same energy that brought us here should be able to—"

"Caleb, I know. I'm not panicking."

He looked at you sideways. "You're quieter than your normal quiet."

"I'm just thinking."

He nodded slowly. Ate a cracker. Didn't push it, he knew when to let something sit. Almost two decades of knowing each other and he'd learned exactly where the lines were.

You were about to say something else when you heard it.

Voices outside.

Both of you were on your feet before the door handle moved. Caleb stepped toward the entryway on pure instinct and you grabbed his arm with both hands and pulled.

"Don't," you said, low and fast.

"I just want to see—"

"You cannot make contact with yourself. Do you understand what that does to the timeline? Do you understand what happens if you alter something?"

"I wasn't going to —"

"Caleb." You got in front of him, hands on his chest, looking up at him with full seriousness. "We hide. Right now. We have to wait."

He looked at the door. The handle was starting to move.

"Fine," he said before he grabbed the protocore and then your wrist to pull you toward the hallway closet in two long strides, opening it fast and pulling you in after him, easing the door shut.

The closet was full. Coats, bags, a stack of boxes on the floor that immediately became a problem because you had nowhere to step back, which meant you were now pressed against Caleb from your shoulders to your knees.

You could feel every breath he took.

"This is very small," you whispered.

"I know," he said, directly behind your ear.

His arms were on either side of you because there was nowhere else for them. His chin was above your head. You could feel him making adjustments to keep whatever minimal distance physics was willing to offer, and it was working as well as you'd expect. Which was not well.

You were two childhood friends in a closet in an apartment that was apparently his, two years in the future, surrounded by photographic evidence of something neither of you had said out loud yet, and he was doing his very best not to press against you and his very best was losing badly to the laws of spatial reasoning.

The front door opened.

Through the slats of the closet door, the living room light clicked on.

"I told you." Your own voice, but looser, threaded through with laughter that had a very specific quality to it. "I told you we shouldn't have had that last drink."

"Yeah," came the reply. Caleb's voice, except it was rougher and stripped of the easy warmth you knew and replaced with something that made the back of your neck prickle. "You were flirting with the bartender just to watch me lose it."

"Maybe I was." Future you sounded unrepentant about this.

Through the slats you watched two people stumble into the living room and your brain took several seconds to process what your eyes were seeing. She was in a dress, form fitting, gorgeous, currently half unzipped down the back. Future Caleb had shed his jacket somewhere between the door and the living room, his shirt untucked with half the buttons open, chest visible, hair slightly wrecked.

Behind you, Caleb had gone completely rigid. You felt it happen, every muscle in his body locking up at once.

Then future Caleb grabbed future you by the waist and walked her backward into the living room wall.

The impact was loud. What followed was louder, the sound of them kissing, which was not the word for what was happening, kissing implied something with more restraint than this. Future Caleb had his hands in her hair and on her waist and sliding down to bunch the fabric of her dress up her thighs, all at the same time.

You made a sound you hadn't planned on making.

Caleb's hand came over your mouth so fast you didn't even see it coming, his palm pressing firm and warm against your lips, his forearm across your collarbone. His chest was heaving against your back and something else was pressing against the small of your back that you were both absolutely not acknowledging.

You made a muffled sound against his hand anyway.

His arm tightened.

Future Caleb pulled back just far enough to speak "You want to play games tonight?" A pause, heavy with intent. "Let's find out how loud I can make you scream."

He pushed his hand up her skirt.

You'd never made that sound in your life. Or apparently you would. In two years. Against that wall.

"Caleb—wait, wait—the couch—"

That was it. That was enough. Your hand shot out in the dark and found the closet door handle and you grabbed it.

Caleb's hand came off your mouth and closed around your wrist, pulling it back against you, his mouth dropping to your ear.

"Don't you dare," he breathed.

"We have to stop watching this—" you hissed.

"If you open that door they'll see us—"

"Then they see us—"

"And alter the timeline," he said. "Your words. Two minutes ago."

He was right and it was the worst possible moment for him to be right.

"Just—" His voice came out strained "Just don't move."

"Caleb—"

"I'm a guy, and you are literally grinding into me," he snapped softly, though there was no real anger in it. His forehead dropped briefly to the back of your head. "Just..." sigh "give me a second."

Outside the closet Caleb lifted her clean off the floor. Her legs wrapped around his waist as he carried her the few steps to the couch and dropped her onto it.

His hands yanked the straps of her dress down, baring her breasts. He pinched a nipple, and she arched with a sharp cry. "You are so fucking wet already. Been thinking about my cock all day? Want me to stretch that pretty pussy out right here?"

"Yes—fuck, Caleb, touch me," she gasped, hips grinding up.

Your breath hitched. Heat flooded between your legs, sudden and embarrassing. Caleb's cock twitched against your ass and you had to bite your lip to stay quiet.

Future Caleb reached down and shoved his pants off. You couldn't look away. He was big, thick, flushed, veins standing out. Ready.

Panic hit you. "Don't look," you whispered frantically. "That's... me. Turn around or do something—"

"Like hell," he said against your ear, teeth grazing the shell. "You're the one staring. You like seeing him like that? Seeing what I— what he wants to do to you?"

"Caleb, shut up," you whimpered, thighs pressing together.

He didn't fuck her right away. He grabbed her ankles, yanked her to the edge of the couch, and spread her wide. Dropped to his knees.

"Caleb—" she started, but it dissolved into a broken moan as he buried his face between her legs.

The sound of his tongue working her was loud and messy, completely shameless. Her head dropped back against the cushions, fingers twisted tight into the fabric, her whole body shaking every time he dragged his tongue over her clit in greedy strokes. He licked broad stripes up her slit before focusing on her clit again, sucking it into his mouth with a low groan.

"Fuck, you taste so good,”Caleb growled against her pussy, voice muffled but clear enough to carry.

"Just like that baby” she moaned, one hand fisting his hair, the other still twisting in the couch cushion.

He pinched her nipple hard with his free hand, rolling it between his fingers as he sucked harder. Her thighs trembled around his head.

Behind you, Caleb let out a broken groan that made your knees go soft. His arm snapped around your waist, holding you steady, fingers digging into your hip the exact same way his future self was gripping her out there.

“Fuck,” you whispered, head falling back against his shoulder before you could stop yourself. Your pussy was throbbing, aching so bad it almost hurt.

“Listen to that. Listen to how wet you get for me.” Caleb shifted his hips, grinding the thick ridge of his cock against your ass through your jeans, dragging the seam right over your soaked cunt.

On the couch, she was losing it. "I need you inside me. I can’t wait anymore.”

Future Caleb pulled back, mouth shiny, breathing hard. He stroked himself once, twice, then lined up and drove into her in one rough thrust. Her legs wrapped around him as he started fucking her deep and hard, the couch creaking like it might give out any second. His back and ass flexed with every thrust, hips snapping forward. “Gonna come on my cock like a good girl?”

He leaned over her, one hand pinning her thigh higher as he fucked her. “Gonna fill you up. Want you leaking my cum the rest of the night. You love being my dirty little slut, don’t you? Say it.”

“Oh my god,” you choked, voice barely there. Watching yourself get railed like that—by him—was too much. The guy whose arms were currently locked around your waist, the same guy you’d known since you were kids, was pounding into a future version of you like he owned her.

She gasped between moans, nails now digging into his back. “Yes—your slut, Caleb—harder—”

“That’s my girl.” His hips snapped faster “Come on my cock like you did last night."

In the closet, Caleb’s forehead dropped to your shoulder, his cock twitched hard against your ass, hips making tiny, helpless thrusts.

You couldn’t tear your eyes away, every filthy word making the ache between your legs worse.

“Jesus,” Caleb whispered raggedly “We really talk like that?”

You twisted hard, trying to turn around in the cramped space so you wouldn’t have to see it anymore.

“Stop moving,” Caleb gasped, his control fraying fast as your ass rubbed right over the head of his cock.

“I can’t watch this—let me turn—”

Your foot caught on a heavy boot buried in the mess at the bottom of the closet. Balance gone.

“Whoa—” Caleb grabbed for you, but it was too late. Your combined weight slammed into the door.

The cheap magnetic latch popped open with a sad little click.

The squeaking of the couch cut off like someone had yanked the plug on the whole universe.

The silence that followed rang in your ears. You pushed up on your elbows, face so hot you were surprised you hadn’t spontaneously combusted. Caleb was beside you, shirt rucked up, the very obvious, very hard line of his erection pressing against your thigh.

You both slowly turned your heads toward the couch.

A few meters away, future Caleb was frozen mid thrust, hands locked on future you’s hips, his body still buried deep inside her. She had one leg hooked high around his waist, hair a wild mess, chest heaving. Both of them stared at you with identical expressions of what the actual fuck.

They were a sweaty, flushed disaster, very naked and very, very mid fuck.

“What the…” future Caleb started.

Future you blinked slowly. “Is that… us?”

You opened your mouth, brain offering the most useless sentence in history. “We were just looking for soy sauce—”

The white light from the Protocore exploded again. The apartment, the couch, your naked and extremely confused future selves—all of it ripped away in a roar of rushing air.

Thud.

You hit the dirty alley hard enough to knock the wind out of you again.

Caleb groaned beside you, flat on his back, one arm flung over his eyes. His chest rose and fell in sharp pulls. You could still feel the ghost of his hardness against you, the way his fingers had dug into your hip in the closet. Your own body was still buzzing, thighs slick, pulse pounding between your legs like a second heartbeat.

For a moment, neither of you moved.

Then Caleb let out a shaky laugh that sounded half hysterical. “Soy sauce. Really?”

You rolled onto your side, wincing at the scrapes on your elbows. “It was the first thing that came to mind, okay? We just watched ourselves— I mean, they— we were—” You gestured vaguely, face burning all over again. “You know.”

“Yeah,” he said quietly. “I know.”

He sat up slowly and ran a hand through his hair. The front of his shorts was still a bit tented. He didn’t bother trying to hide it. You weren’t exactly in a position to judge, your nipples were tight against your shirt, and you were pretty sure your face was the color of a ripe tomato.

The protocore gave one last weak shimmer and dissolved into harmless blue dust that scattered across the pavement.

Caleb looked at you. “So… two years from now, huh?”

You swallowed. “Apparently we, uh… figured some things out.”

He huffed another laugh, but it was softer this time. Almost wondering. He reached over and brushed a bit of alley dirt off your cheek with his thumb. The touch lingered.

“We should probably go”

You nodded, but neither of you stood up right away. The air between you felt thicker than the summer humidity, charged with everything you’d just seen and felt in that stupid closet.

Caleb’s gaze dropped to your mouth for a second, then flicked back up. “When we get back to the house…”

“Yeah?” you whispered.

He smiled, small and crooked and a little nervous, the same smile he’d given you a thousand times growing up, except this one felt different.

“I’m not waiting two years,” he said.

Your heart did something complicated in your chest.

You grabbed his hand, pulled him up with you, and the two of you started walking out of the alley like nothing had happened.

But everything had happened.

And as your fingers brushed again while you walked, neither of you pulled away.

Nerd! Zayne Part 5 coming soon. I promise.