11:21 pm

alcohol mention

this was not how tonight was supposed to go.

“kiss me.”

“what?” kyotani snaps at you as he whips around, you tugging at his shirt sleeve with wide eyes and a sense of urgency.

no, definitely not how it was supposed to go.

“kiss me!” you repeat, tone more serious, fingers fisting up the material on his shoulder.

his first thought is that maybe you’re drunk, but seeing as how he’s monitored your alcohol consumption tonight while you were off with the rest of your friends, guarding your glass right next to his—he knows that’s not the case.

“what the hell’re you talking about?” he asks, and though the words may sound harsh, the look in his eyes is a stark contrast to it. all caring and warm.

“some guy over there won’t get off my ass so i told him you’re my boyfriend,” you explain, a little rushed. and that’s nothing new, you’ve used kentaro as that ever since you two became friends. he doesn’t mind. “but he said he’d only believe me if i came and kissed you. so kiss me so i can get back to dancing.”

kyotani instantly darts his gaze over your shoulder, leaning back on his barstool enough to get a glimpse of the dude you’re talking about, jaw clenching as he makes brief eye contact. he looks back to you, brows cinched.

“you don’t have to prove shit to that asshole, you know,” he grumbles, but you shuffle ever closer as he twists on his stool to fully face you, allowing you to step between his legs.

“ken,” you whine, pouting as you place your hands on his shoulders. “just one kiss. i wanna dance more before the fake id teenagers rush gets here!”

the blond looks absolutely torn, eyes darting to the dude over your shoulder once, before huffing out a breath and tugging you towards him by the loop in your waistband.

“fine,” he says, and he’s so close you can smell the vodka on his lips. “but hurry up, i’m tryna watch the game.”

he says hurry up, as if he wastes any time in moving his free hand up to cup the side of your neck and press his thumb below your jaw before he yanks you down to slam your lips together.

you expect it to be quick, just a simple peck and kyotani shooing you off so he can go back to his thing and you yours. but it isn’t.

kentaro kisses in a way that is the complete opposite of his demeanor. where he’s rough, his lips are soft. where his moves are sharp, his mouth is languid. where his aura is sour, his tongue is sweet.

nothing about the kiss is short or blunt or anything you had expected from a friend pretending to be dating you to get another guy off your ass for the night. and when he pulls away, kissing the edge of your parted mouth before leaning back, but not unhooking his fingers from your belt loop—you think maybe it’s not such a friendly kiss after all.

“well? go dance before the rush—“

it’s not friendly, as you wrap your arms around the blond’s neck and slam your lips back together. pushing and pressing and prying to steal that intimacy back, craving it to seep back onto your tongue, back on your lips, back to you. you can feel the way his fingers twist up around your belt loop, the hand on the side of your neck trying to tug you closer.

this time when you pull back, there’s a flush to his cheeks, hardly visible under the dim lights of the bar. you smile at him, biting the inside of your cheek.

“…dancing?” he asks, voice hoarse, breathy.

you shake your head. “no, i think i’m good on dancing. honestly my feet kinda hurt already.”

“we’ve only been here for an hour,” he states, and you know him well enough that when he smirks at you it’s because he’s thinking of something he probably shouldn’t say out loud.

“yeah, i know,” you grin, not failing to notice the way he subconsciously tugs you closer as that guy from earlier walks past the two of you. “but that’s kinda boring now.”

he gets what you mean, what you’re really trying to say. and even if he rolls his eyes at your antics he stands up from his stool regardless, handing some cash to the bartender before unlooping his hand from your waistband and flinging his arm around your shoulder—the game and your friends long forgotten.

“you taste like fruit, by the way.”

“yeah?” you grin up at him as you walk down the sidewalk, arm around his waist as you lean further into him.

“yeah,” he grunts, still looking straight forward as he says, “i don’t really like fruit.”

“are you sure you aren’t the asshole, not that guy back there?” you quip back, smacking his chest. but you’re still smiling, because you can’t help it.

(maybe you can blame it on the alcohol).

kyotani just shrugs, stopping under the buzzing of a street lamp and tugging you to him with his hands on your hips. he leans down, dangerously close, and licks his lips.

“maybe,” he whispers, gruff and low, “heard kissing helps it though.”

you laugh, shaking your head as your snake your arms around his neck again. “you need to lay off the vodka next time, ken. you’re a little too bold. starting to think you might regret it in the morning.”

“nah,” he hums, leaning in further, lips ghosting against your own, “never.”

and as he kisses you again, just as slow and just as sweet, you can’t help but believe him.

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