Ain't No ***in' Direction of Right and Wrong
spreading the craze deep inside their parent's body.
yutaka doesn't like smoke.
he doesn't like the acrid taste it places in his mouth, dissolving his taste buds and leaving only a fragmented muscle that he can't use anymore because it's so drunk and disfigured that he may as well be the mute leader of the band now. he doesn't like how it seems to suffocate him when yuu asks him to help him light the tobacco and paper, documents piled high in his arms.
i really need a smoke, man. come on.
yutaka sighs and helps him, and he knows that if yuu chokes or sputters on the smoke that he'll blame himself and not the guitarist. he moves in close, takes the lighter from yuu's spidery hand, cups his hand over the flame so that it doesn't go out.
i wish you didn't do this.
the lighter never reaches the tobacco because yuu's gotten fed up with this, drops the papers, presses the other man against the wall. their lips meet with a bruising pressure, the older man's hands up yutaka's shirt, groping and scratching as gasps and hot breath escape their nostrils. their eyes are closed and yuu tastes like cigarettes.
would you rather i do this instead?
yutaka pulls back, pushes him away so hard that yuu topples backwards onto the floor. he's pinned, the cigarette forgotten somewhere under the mountain of unwanted papers as yutaka straddles him, squeezes his wrists, kisses him hard.
yes.
yutaka doesn't like smoke at all. yutaka likes yuu more.
he doesn't like the acrid taste it places in his mouth, dissolving his taste buds and leaving only a fragmented muscle that he can't use anymore because it's so drunk and disfigured that he may as well be the mute leader of the band now. he doesn't like how it seems to suffocate him when yuu asks him to help him light the tobacco and paper, documents piled high in his arms.
i really need a smoke, man. come on.
yutaka sighs and helps him, and he knows that if yuu chokes or sputters on the smoke that he'll blame himself and not the guitarist. he moves in close, takes the lighter from yuu's spidery hand, cups his hand over the flame so that it doesn't go out.
i wish you didn't do this.
the lighter never reaches the tobacco because yuu's gotten fed up with this, drops the papers, presses the other man against the wall. their lips meet with a bruising pressure, the older man's hands up yutaka's shirt, groping and scratching as gasps and hot breath escape their nostrils. their eyes are closed and yuu tastes like cigarettes.
would you rather i do this instead?
yutaka pulls back, pushes him away so hard that yuu topples backwards onto the floor. he's pinned, the cigarette forgotten somewhere under the mountain of unwanted papers as yutaka straddles him, squeezes his wrists, kisses him hard.
yes.
yutaka doesn't like smoke at all. yutaka likes yuu more.