The room Noiz consequently finds himself in is tiny, hidden away inside a dilapidated building up north from where they'd been standing. Koujaku doesn't answer him when he asks how he knows about it, but that and any other considerations are quickly driven from his mind once Koujaku's mouth finds his again.

And he's on the bed now, Noiz vaguely recalls Koujaku ripping his beanie off his head before throwing him onto it, memory fuzzing in the face of Koujaku's deep, searching kisses-lover's kisses, he realizes with a shudder, because he's been around the block a fair few times, but none of the kisses he's had before can compare. Come even close.

Koujaku kisses him like he means it, like he wants to steal every single breath Noiz has left, and it pisses him off.

So he pushes Koujaku's head away, glares when he smirks at him and leans down to nip at his neck-none too gently, Noiz can tell, but he needs more, more.

"That all you've got, old man?" he snarls, yanks something vicious at Koujaku's hair. "Come on, bite me harder."

And it's good, Koujaku's hiss of pain, the intensification of the pressure at his throat, but it's not enough, and- "Harder, you fucking pussy."

What he feels next is the most peculiar, most bizzarely arousing sensation he's ever come across in his very limited experience-the feeling of something sliding into-not across, but into-his skin, and he cries out sharp in his throat.

And then Koujaku is pulling back, blood spatter staining his lips, and Noiz realizes. Less from the actual, physical evidence, and more from the uncertainty flickering in Koujaku's expression which morphs into pure, unadulterated bloodlust when he catches sight of Noiz's face. He ducks his head down again, sucks at the spot where he's broken skin, and Noiz moans.

Because even he can feel the wild throb of his pulse beating under Koujaku's tongue at the point of abrasion, even he can feel-or some semblance thereof-the suction there.

"Keep talking and I'll fucking bite it off."

Noiz doesn't need to crane his head down, when Koujaku murmurs against his skin, to see the ugly, bloodied purple-carmine that has bloomed at the pulse point in his neck-it is written all over Koujaku's face when tilts his head up a second time, something primal and not quite human playing in his eyes, making his low words all the more rife with threat..

"Just you fucking try it." Noiz responds by snaking his hands over to Koujaku's back and fucking finally untying that damn obi, sliding it off his body in one smooth motion, leaving his kimono to hang open on either side of them. He arches up, then, sucks bite marks into Koujaku's chest, sinking his teeth in on just that side of too much. Koujaku gasps, forces Noiz's head away when he uses teeth at his nipple, hands in his hair fisted so tight Noiz feels the pull of it.

"What, old man? Can't handle it?" Noiz snickers, surges forward to bite again despite Koujaku's restraining hands. "One would think that having the majority of a nipple tattooed over would mean that you wouldn't scream like a girl every time someone gave it a little attention."

For a moment, Koujaku looks like he's in pain. A shadow, different from simple lust or anger passes over his face, and Noiz catches it-catches it and shoves it to the back of his mind because he, somehow, knows that look.

And then it's gone, and Koujaku is surging forward to occupy Noiz's mouth before it can say anything untoward, and oh, what was Noiz thinking about again? Because the only thing he's capable of right now, with Koujaku's tongue in his mouth and his hands unbuttoning his shirt with practiced ease, is skirting his hands up Koujaku's arms to his shoulders, pushing at the fabric of his kimono until it slides off his shoulders, Koujaku taking it off and tossing it to the floor with a soft fwump while Noiz tugs at the bandages around his torse until they unravel.

He pulls back, then, from Koujaku's kisses that threaten to intoxicate him, from his hands that pinch and pull and scratch in all the right ways, to get a good look at his body, and fuck if Noiz wasn't hard in his pants before he is now. Without the trimming-down of the kimono, Koujaku's body seems somehow... unrestrained. Bulkier, with the predatory grace of some large animal. Like it could wreak some serious damage and Noiz would be more than okay with it.

And that was without taking into consideration his tattoos.

Noiz had briefly considered, in the past, getting some of his own, had thought that maybe a needle driving into his unresponsive flesh would kindle some semblance of sensation in it, but in the end, there had been nothing he had cared for enough to document on his body.

But Koujaku.

Koujaku is a different story, this damn sexy bastard, Noiz's mouth waters as he rakes his eyes down the bold black swirls decorating the entire right side of his body. God, he wants to lick them. Bite them. Make them bleed.

He wonders if Koujaku's blood will run hot under his tongue. Will taste as fiery as his eyes.

And then Koujaku is hauling him up, making short work of his shirt, then pulling his undershirt up and off. He only licks his lips when he sights the flash of silver through his nipples, his navel, and lunges. Bites down on Noiz's nipple hard, smirks when he whimpers and arches up into it.

"Brats like you shouldn't get ahead of themselves," he unbuckles Noiz's belt, shoves his trousers and boxers down with little ceremony-

-and stops short.

". . . No fucking way," he breathes out, gaze stuck on Noiz's cock, hard and just beginning to flush at the tip.

At the metal adorning it.

"Well, I wouldn't have taken you for some sort of yakuza with all those tattoos, so at least we're both surprised."

And there it is again. When Noiz trails a hand over his tattoos, Koujaku flinches like it physically pains him, and slaps his hand away.

"I'm not-tch." Koujaku shakes his head and the expression is gone, hand travelling to Noiz's throat again, fingers flexing like he'd love nothing more than to give it a good squeeze right then and there. ". . .Just shut your mouth or I'll make you."

A part of Noiz wants to ask, to push and prod at the scars until they reopen and spill what has been festering inside them, but he knows it'll only earn him another black eye and possible sexual frustration into the bargain. So he moves his hand to tug lazily at his own cock, regaling Koujaku with his best apathetic stare.

"Wouldn't have to if you'd just get on with it, old man. Or should I get the Viagra from your back pocket?"

And really, Noiz thinks, it's almost too easy as his own hand on his cock is pried away, replaced by a bigger one-when did he get his gloves off?-and another vicious bite to his neck that sends shivers up his spine with how the blood oozes out of it. Koujaku's hand should be rougher that his, he figures, from all the scars on it, but he can't feel it and that irritates him more than it should. So he leans up to whisper in Koujaku's ear, hand at the front of his pants, palming him hard through his jeans.

"Fucking pull on them, you squeamish old prude."

Koujaku stiffens. And then Noiz's head flies back onto the sheets, mouth open in a soundless moan as he yanks roughly on his frenum ladder while digging his thumb into the slit.

"You fucking brat-," Koujaku's voice sounds rough as he chooses to toy with the apadravya this time, sending muted shocks of electricity up Noiz's spine. "Don't-fucking underestimate me."

And Noiz almost wants to laugh, would have laughed if his vision hadn't been clouding over with want and his breath coming choppy and irregular. As it is, though, he settles for shooting Koujaku a yeah? Then fucking show me that he hopes to all hell doesn't sound as breathy to Koujaku as it does to himself.

But then Koujaku is kissing him again-be careful I don't rip them right out-and every other sentence fleets to air as he pushes inside Noiz's mouth with his tongue, his hips grinding down into Noiz's, and Noiz pushes back, dirty trick for dirty trick; and his hands are unclasping Koujaku's damn neck brace, pulling his hairpin free from when it's binding his hair and then going down, down to unbutton, unzip, push away as if possessed. Because oh, fuck, Noiz wants, has wanted ever since Koujaku first hinted that he could have it, and Koujaku's hand working rough and fast over his cock is the final fucking straw. He doesn't care anymore, needs Koujaku inside him and fuck prep just shove it in already.

He only realizes that his mouth has detached from Koujaku's, that saliva is smearing across his chin, and that he's spoken those last few thoughts out loud when Koujaku's mouth is at his ear and one of Noiz's legs is canted over Koujaku's shoulder, spreading him obscenely wide.

"You're fucking crazy," and Koujaku, Noiz is pleased to note, sounds as close to losing it as Noiz feels. "But fuck you if you think I'm enough of a bastard to do it without prep."

And Noiz struggles, he does, the blackness in his chest fanning out to every limb, making him thrash and flail when he hasn't a hope of escaping from under Koujaku's body weight, but, eventually, there's that stretching feeling at his entrance, and he bares his teeth at Koujaku, trying to wrench his leg free.

"Go fuck yourself."

"Don't worry," Koujaku refuses to relinquish the leg he has in his grasp, kissing up it with deceptive softness before-ah-the teeth come out and he bites. "I'm not going to be gentle about it."

And fuck that visual of Koujaku's dark hair, loose and falling in disarray past his shoulders, eyes fiery, is so unfairly sexy that Noiz has to give up struggling and turn his head to the side before he does anything embarrassing. The tell-tale twitch of his cock, though, directly in Koujaku's line of sight, gives it away anyway. Koujaku just chuckles, dark, and grinds his erection up against Noiz's ass as he adds another finger.

"Just fucking hurry it up," Noiz snaps, and revels in the flash of annoyance in Koujaku's eyes as he shuts him up with a kiss, stretching him wider-was that another finger?-crooking them, and oh.

Noiz's body arches, chasing that elusive pulse of pleasure, willing Koujaku to do it again by insistently rutting up into him until he does and-and Noiz thinks his resultant moan is the loudest he's been this entire encounter.

"Just fuck me," he breathes out when Koujaku disengages their mouths, and although he turns his head to the side and clenches his eyes shut and he can't even see Koujaku's face, it sounds an awful lot like a prayer. "Fucking-fuck me until I can't fucking walk."

A sharp intake of breath is his only warning before his world is flipping upside down as Koujaku turns him onto his stomach, iron grip full of dark intention-and there are a few seconds of that delicious stretch, of the feeling of being split that is the most he'll ever get-and then Koujaku is inside him.

And he's moving.

It hardly takes him any time to build up a momentum-a testament to how often he's done this, Noiz supposes. But then Koujaku's hands are holding his down against the mattress as his hips snap faster and Noiz forgets to suppose.

He is vaguely aware that his mouth is open, neglecting to filter out the gasps that leave him every time the piercings at his dick snag against the bedding, the moans that force themselves ut of him every time Koujaku hits there.

"Ah, ah-fuck old man, fuck me, fuck me."

He doesn't know what he's saying any more, whether the litany of words leaving his mouth comes out even vaguely coherent. All he knows is that it spurs Koujaku on, drives him to piston in harder, tug at the piercings on his nape with his teeth, even take one hand away from where it's restraining Noiz and use it to squeeze roughly at his dick.

". . . I can't."

"Hm?"

It takes Noiz a moment to figure out that Koujaku spoke, and another to register what he actually said. "Can't what? Fuck-ah-fuck me at this pace? Well, can't say I didn't-nnnh-expect it, but-,"

"I can't pretend you're Aoba." Koujaku cuts him off with one simple statement, yanking at his hafda to make him cry out. "You're mouthy, and uncooperative, and you piss me the fuck off. It would be doing him a disservice."

"So, in other words, it's me you're hard for right now, old man? How very flatter-nh!"

Noiz lifts his hips up to meet Koujaku's on every brutal thrust, even as he continues to rile him up. His hips stutter and the end of his sentence cuts off in a choked moan when Koujaku aims a sharp twist to his nipple piercing in retaliation.

He doesn't let up. Neither of them do.

"It would kill your mother if she could see you right now."

He knows it's a low blow, but Koujaku just lets the chinks in his armor show through too clearly. And the fleeting twisted, pained expression that flashes across Koujaku's face, the way he shoves Noiz's head into the mattress, pushes his hips up so that his back arches in an obscene curve is worth it, proves to Noiz he isn't just imagining things.

Not that he has the wherewithal to do so, anyway. The new position Koujaku has forced him into is sending those tendrils of pleasure down his spine every time he thrusts in, making them pool in the pit of his stomach, and his hips are torn between fucking down into the mattress, and fucking up into the rhythm of Koujaku's hips.

"Fucking hell, old man-," he realizes he's gasping too late to stop it. "Make me come, fucking make me come."

And it's a testament to how far gone Koujaku is that he doesn't even bristle at Noiz's outright demand, just leans down to whisper in his ear like he's with one of his women. "What do you want me to do?"

"Touch my cock," Noiz breathes out without even thinking. "Just-touch me, fuck."

And then everything dissolves and Koujaku is licking at the seam of his mouth, pulling sloppy and quick over his cock, his piercings. And all Noiz can hear are the lewd sounds of skin slapping skin and Koujaku's low, gravelly moans in his ear as he fucks into him without finesse now, relying on nothing more than primal instinct to get them both to completion. Noiz can't see his eyes, but he doubts there is a trace of the original crimson that has not been replaces by the black of his dilated pupils.

And he's moaning, too, Noiz realizes, his ah ah ahhhhhs rising in pitch and volume, only occasionally muffled by Koujaku's mouth as he skirts the edge.

"Fuck-ungh-ah, Koujaku I'm-!"

Another bite to his shoulder, drawing blood, another vicious tug to his apadravya, and he's arching up, a muffled scream leaving his throat as his vision flashes a brilliant white and his release spurts out of him, soiling the sheets underneath.

It's only when he's coming down, panting, that he registers Koujaku pulsing hard inside him, feels it is he sinks his teeth anew into the wound on his shoulder, drives in as deep as he can, and shudders violently so that Noiz can feel every throb of his dick. He only realizes Koujaku's come when he goes limp on top of him.

They stay like that for a moment, catch their breaths before Noiz shoves Koujaku off of him, grimacing when he stands up and cum splatters the floor. He cleans himself up best as he can with the pocket handkerchief he's never quite managed to kick the habit of carrying, and dresses mechanically, in complete silence. It's not until he glances over at Koujaku, face-down on the bed, that his voice betrays him.

". . . Woah."

Because, sure, the artwork on Koujaku's front is sexy. Captivating, even. But-fuck-his back.

Noiz isn't used to complimenting things, but even he can see the beauty of the crimson peonies blooming across Koujaku's back for what it is. The flowers seem alive, somehow, like they would undulate under Noiz's touch with the same fluid grace that characterizes Koujaku.

Like they can swallow Noiz up if he isn't careful.

He only realizes he's reaching out a hand to touch them when it is two inches away from Koujaku's back.

". . . Don't."

Koujaku's voice makes Noiz's hand freeze up before he quickly withdraws it, annoyed that the older man had caught on, more so that he'd given over to instinct in the first place. He pulls his beanie over his head and looks Koujaku over one more time.

And then he opens the door and walks out.

And maybe it's the fact that the black tar has adhered more firmly than ever in his chest, or maybe it's the fact that he drives his fist into a brick wall of the way out to vent a frustration he cannot put into words, but something tells him that nothing about this had been a good idea.

~Fin~