writing kiyohana in our year of the lord 2019 because it's good and right
He makes for a shitty-looking vampire, honestly, which makes him the perfect target. A sore spot of plaid against a sea of black and red that Hanamiya picks out from across the room -- he might have assumed the guy was human, if not for the conspicuously viscous magenta of the blood cocktail in his hand.
And the fangs, of course. Baby vampires never know how to hide their fangs.
“Are you lost?”
“Me?” the man looks Hanamiya up and down conspicuously -- too easy, “Not so much anymore.”
A little sweet talk, a flash of neck, and it’s embarrassingly easy for Hanamiya to get this guy to slip him a key to his hotel room. Kiyoshi, he’d called himself, and Hanamiya bats his eyelashes as he gives a false name. These vamps are all the same -- they’ll follow anyone anywhere if it means a taste of willing human blood, no strings attached.
Except-- “Watch the fangs, idiot.”
Kiyoshi makes quick work of disposing Hanamiya of his shirt the second they cross the threshold into his hotel room, fangs out and scratching the thin skin of Hanamiya’s neck so quickly it’s sending him reeling. And he just chuckles at Hanamiya’s comment, breathing out a aren’t the fangs the whole point? even as he moves to kiss along Hanamiya’s jaw instead. Hanamiya can feel Kiyoshi’s small bit of stubble rubbing against his skin, and repulsion and arousal spark in his gut in equal measure.
This is not how this is supposed to go.
“Can you--fucking--” Hanamiya pushes at Kiyoshi’s shoulders -- god, he’s broad -- until the backs of his knees hit the bed and he falls backwards.
“Yes, dear?” Kiyoshi smiles, looking up at Hanamiya with a faux-innocence, kness parted just so, so Hanamiya can stand between his thighs.
“Why don’t you take a shower first,” Hanamiya simpers, smoothing hands down the lapels of Kiyoshi’s shirt, “And then we can have some fun.”
“More like so you can rob me blind and ghost me,” Kiyoshi says, and Hanamiya’s hands freeze, face going sour. Kiyoshi grins, fangs gleaming in the dim light, pulling a wallet out of his pocket, opening it to read off the ID, “Hanamiya Makoto… that’s a lot cuter than the name you gave me.”
“When did you--” Hanamiya pat his back pocket, finding his wallet missing. He takes a step back, dropping pretense for a moment, “You think you’re very clever, don’t you?”
Kiyoshi leans back on his elbows, looking up at Hanamiya with a shrug, “Not really. There’s just only so many times you get fleeced before you get wise.”
“Ugh,” Hanamiya scowls, reaching to snatch his wallet back, looking around the room for his shirt, “You’re the worst kind of vamp. The good boy act is exhausting.”
“You wound me,” Kiyoshi stands, reaching to sling an arm around Hanamiya’s waist. Neither of them miss how perfectly they fit, “Why don’t you stay anyway? I’m still hungry, and I’m sure you are.”
A pause, “You’re not really a young vampire, are you?”
“No,” Kiyoshi’s voice is cold, breath ghosting over the shell of Hanamiya’s ear, “But I’m flattered you’d think so.”
“Don’t be,” Hanamiya goes loose in Kiyoshi’s grip, head leaning back against his shoulder, “If I stay, you better make it worth my while.”
ilu
He makes for a shitty-looking vampire, honestly, which makes him the perfect target. A sore spot of plaid against a sea of black and red that Hanamiya picks out from across the room -- he might have assumed the guy was human, if not for the conspicuously viscous magenta of the blood cocktail in his hand.
And the fangs, of course. Baby vampires never know how to hide their fangs.
“Are you lost?”
“Me?” the man looks Hanamiya up and down conspicuously -- too easy, “Not so much anymore.”
A little sweet talk, a flash of neck, and it’s embarrassingly easy for Hanamiya to get this guy to slip him a key to his hotel room. Kiyoshi, he’d called himself, and Hanamiya bats his eyelashes as he gives a false name. These vamps are all the same -- they’ll follow anyone anywhere if it means a taste of willing human blood, no strings attached.
Except-- “Watch the fangs, idiot.”
Kiyoshi makes quick work of disposing Hanamiya of his shirt the second they cross the threshold into his hotel room, fangs out and scratching the thin skin of Hanamiya’s neck so quickly it’s sending him reeling. And he just chuckles at Hanamiya’s comment, breathing out a aren’t the fangs the whole point? even as he moves to kiss along Hanamiya’s jaw instead. Hanamiya can feel Kiyoshi’s small bit of stubble rubbing against his skin, and repulsion and arousal spark in his gut in equal measure.
This is not how this is supposed to go.
“Can you--fucking--” Hanamiya pushes at Kiyoshi’s shoulders -- god, he’s broad -- until the backs of his knees hit the bed and he falls backwards.
“Yes, dear?” Kiyoshi smiles, looking up at Hanamiya with a faux-innocence, kness parted just so, so Hanamiya can stand between his thighs.
“Why don’t you take a shower first,” Hanamiya simpers, smoothing hands down the lapels of Kiyoshi’s shirt, “And then we can have some fun.”
“More like so you can rob me blind and ghost me,” Kiyoshi says, and Hanamiya’s hands freeze, face going sour. Kiyoshi grins, fangs gleaming in the dim light, pulling a wallet out of his pocket, opening it to read off the ID, “Hanamiya Makoto… that’s a lot cuter than the name you gave me.”
“When did you--” Hanamiya pat his back pocket, finding his wallet missing. He takes a step back, dropping pretense for a moment, “You think you’re very clever, don’t you?”
Kiyoshi leans back on his elbows, looking up at Hanamiya with a shrug, “Not really. There’s just only so many times you get fleeced before you get wise.”
“Ugh,” Hanamiya scowls, reaching to snatch his wallet back, looking around the room for his shirt, “You’re the worst kind of vamp. The good boy act is exhausting.”
“You wound me,” Kiyoshi stands, reaching to sling an arm around Hanamiya’s waist. Neither of them miss how perfectly they fit, “Why don’t you stay anyway? I’m still hungry, and I’m sure you are.”
A pause, “You’re not really a young vampire, are you?”
“No,” Kiyoshi’s voice is cold, breath ghosting over the shell of Hanamiya’s ear, “But I’m flattered you’d think so.”
“Don’t be,” Hanamiya goes loose in Kiyoshi’s grip, head leaning back against his shoulder, “If I stay, you better make it worth my while.”
“If you insist.”
Kiyoshi sinks his fangs in and drinks his fill.