#miwaren

Miwa knew that he was making out with an exceptionally attractive man though he couldn’t really see the face of the man he was kissing. That was part of the point of these public, night time hook-ups, which was to obscure the identities of all persons concerned and be generous enough to regard the other person as a worthy mystery.

Maybe it was still too early in the night for the man to have chosen a sex partner, but usually his type would spend his time grinding against the patrons of the club which he found acceptable as part of his preliminary selection. Instead, he had taken the initiative to pull Miwa by the elbow away from the bar, simultaneously and strategically leading Miwa by tempting him with the ass in his tight jeans.

The man who had grabbed hold of him and dragged him out of the club was tall, slim and kissed as if he had unleashed a highly trained lizard inside Miwa’s mouth. At first, Miwa instinctively found his style a little gross, then found it borderline evasive and soon enough found that it aroused him more than the typical encounter with a stranger would.

After successfully accommodating his kisses to fit his partner’s rhythm, Miwa allowed his mind to wonder and speculate why this beauty had chosen him for the night. Miwa was a modest man; modest in the sense that he was able to assess his own attributes in a realistic fashion. He understood what kind of attractive he was—the kind of attractive that was synonymous with ‘safeness’; with an impression that he was competent enough to feel one up and thus a guarantee that one would not be embarrassed in being seen felt up by him.

Miwa ought to stop over-thinking the man’s motivation for choosing him as his man for the night. A more worthwhile endeavour would be getting down to giving them both what they wanted. He slid his palm, which had been lightly caressing the man’s neck, down his chest in order to tug meaningfully at the man’s belt.

Then the man grabbed hold of his hand and distanced his face away from Miwa’s.

“Surprise, it’s me,” the man said.

“You who?” Miwa said and forced a laugh to keep the atmosphere light-hearted.

“I know you want to continue, but I think it’s best you really know who I am before you do.” The man explained himself. “Just in case.”

“What’s the worst you can be? A celebrity, a revolutionary or perhaps a hot prodigy?” Miwa continued to joke without removing his hands from the man’s body. “If you need to know you can trust me, then we can always be friends first.”

“You really have no idea.” The man said and flashed a shady smirk. “Come with me.”

Again, he pulled Miwa away by the elbow, this time towards the streetlamp illuminating the front of the club. Miwa’s eyes widened upon properly seeing the man’s face. Yes, he was still as exceptionally attractive as Miwa had assumed him to be. The salient problem was that he was Suzugamori Ren, Kai Toshiki’s long-standing Vanguard rival and former lover.

“What’s up, Ren,” Miwa sighed.

Ren’s reveal had killed his mood to find someone to spend the night with. Afterwards, he would probably have to resort to nurse a pint of beer while reminding himself that it would be bad form to be intimate with his best friend’s ex, especially an ex that said best friend continued to have an unhealthy attachment to.

“I thought it would be a good idea. I’ve always thought that you’d be a good kisser.” Ren said. “We aren’t going to continue, are we?”

“I’ll pass,” Miwa replied. “And am I? A good kisser?”

“I’ll answer that another time.” Ren said. “Let’s go in and have a drink.”

“Sure. I’ll treat you,” Miwa said.

He had no justification for spending money on Ren, but then again, habits when being alone with men like him were hard to break.

They entered the noisy club once more and headed straight for the bar. The other patrons shifted to make room for them and once Miwa was comfortably standing, Ren leaned against him such that their clothed hips bumped against each other.

“Master, a beer, please,” Miwa hollered at the bartender.

“One Gin and Tonic,” Ren followed suit.

Miwa was about to make more conversation when Ren reached over the counter to pick up an uncapped ballpoint pen. Without any warning and hesitation, he pulled Miwa by the collar closer to him so he could write on the patch of skin above Miwa’s collar bone.

“What are you doing?” Miwa asked, trying to bat away Ren’s hand to curb the ticklish sensation of the moving pen.

“One moment,” Ren said, digging the pen’s nib harder into Miwa’s skin as he concentrated on his task. “There, that’s my number. In case you reconsider.”

Ren flung the pen back over the counter and skimmed the tip of his fingers lightly over where the pen had been. Miwa inched away as much as he could.

“That’s highly unlikely,” Miwa said. “I always consider Kai first.”

“You always do.” Ren said, employing a matter-of-fact tone. “Huh. I hope that’s legible by the time you next look into a mirror.”

That was the last thing he said to Miwa for the night. When the bartender returned with their drinks, Ren just swiped his glass away before making his exit as he slithered into the crowd on the dance floor.

Miwa gulped down a third of his beer and laughed to himself, this time out of genuine amusement. Truly, he was surrounded by too many dramatic men. He laughed again and subconsciously raised his hand to rub at the spot where Ren had written down his digits.

‘He expects me to call, but I won’t. At least not for the reasons he wants me too.’ Miwa thought.