If you had asked Rohan Kishibe how he, renowned mangaka, self-made man, and epitome of hard-to-please, had ended up listening to the sounds of a man he barely knew uttering needy whimpers and pleas as he reached climax over the phone, he wouldn’t have a clue where to start.
Rohan had decided to lend his skills to a more erotic collaboration between artists and authors, and while he was working under a pen name (not that his style wouldn’t be recognized), it was not because he was ashamed. Sex was just another part of life, and capturing every aspect of life was the entire reason behind him pursuing art to begin with. Still, to draw erotica convincingly, he needed experience with the sexual and sensual.
And Rohan was not about to fuck some nobody on the street.
Not physically, anyway.
He had been wandering without concern for where he ended up, pacing the streets of Morioh trying to understand how to best approach the situation. He could use Heaven’s Door to read about someone’s sexual experience, but that would be invasive even for him, and he wasn’t exactly thrilled about asking the handful of people who would be comfortable revealing that information to him.
No, this was something that had to be kept between him and a partner of his own.
His eyes had met that man’s on that thought.
He felt so sorry for that man. He had been sitting alone at the the table at the Cafe du Margot when Rohan slid over into the chair next to him and began chatting him up. He hadn’t seen any partner with that sad-looking man, nor a ring on his finger, so he decided that approaching him would be easier than approaching any of the groups of women who were floating around the light-dappled patio instead.
The man had seemed utterly shocked, not because a random stranger had sat next to him–almost as if he had been hoping that someone would and no one had deigned him worthy enough. Rohan didn’t know why. The man was certainly pleasant enough, and definitely easy on the eyes. Dark, emotional eyes with incredible lashes, lips that would make a supermodel jealous, a quiet and polite voice…the shake of nervousness ruined the air of confidence Rohan was projecting onto him, and his hair looked like a porcupine having a bad morning, but he had such a unique look that Rohan immediately asked to draw him.
“Me? Really,” the man asked with a slight frown. “I’m nothing special.”
“You only think so because you see yourself every day,” Rohan said, moving his pencil sharply against his paper pad, eyes flickering up to meet the other man’s. He could’ve sworn he saw a dusting of pink speckle against the man’s face. “Every human’s features are unique and flesh out the setting that is Earth. It is the duty of an artist to not overlook the common man.”
The man’s eyes widened and he looked aside thoughtfully for a moment, the spring light catching his features in a way that brought out the innocence in that tired face. Rohan sketched more fervently.
“What’s your name?” Rohan’s green painted lips moved softly, and the other man’s attention was drawn back to him.
“Well, Mr. Kawajiri. Why don’t you give me your number, and we’ll continue this modeling session later?”
Kosaku’s life was as sad as his face had suggested.
As it turned out, the man was married. Rohan found this out as Kosaku sat on a stool across from him at the Kishibe residence, rambling about his life now that he had found someone willing to listen to him.
The marriage was rough. He was too boring for his wife. Work took all the energy out of him. Stress about rent pressed him down even more. His son–he had a son–was suspicious of him. If life was a staircase, he was tripping down every single step. That melancholy enraptured Rohan, who wanted to capture it as purely as possible with pen and paper.
“Will you two divorce?”
Kosaku’s lips tightened, and Rohan was afraid he had gone too far.
Then, a sigh.
“I don’t think so,” Kosaku murmured. “There’s too much wrapped up between the two of us right now.”
He rested his chin on his hand, and Rohan saw an intense beauty in every curve. He briefly wondered who would take that sort of beauty for granted, before deciding that situation was too complicated for him to pass judgment on immediately.
For now, he would appreciate Kosaku in his own sort of way.
It had started as an innocent phone call. Making another appointment with Kosaku, wanting one more session before he eventually dropped the man off back into the streets of Morioh, where he would fade back into the background.
Kosaku was home alone, as his office was closed for the day for renovation, and his wife and kid had gone out to S-City to look at some new (hopefully cheap) clothes. Being left alone with his thoughts was killing Kosaku, and it came as a major relief when the phone rang and Rohan’s voice was on the other end.
He had grown familiar. A comfort. Kosaku had latched on more quickly than either of them had anticipated, and Rohan felt a pang of guilt in his chest. He knew he was manipulating him, somewhat. Perhaps he would erase the memories of their meetings with Heaven’s Door, just to save Kosaku the eventual pain.
He had planned to start slowly, diving into the more intimate details of Kosaku’s married life, perhaps getting those sensual details that he was after in the first place–
“Mr. Kishibe…do you draw self-portraits?”
Rohan paused, confused. It wasn’t often that Kosaku was the one asking questions, and it seemed a rather odd one to lead off with.
“Occasionally, though it’s not the focus of my work.”
“…that’s good to know. It just seemed wrong for you to draw me and say that I’m an interesting person, when you’re a far more interesting and …beautiful subject yourself.”
Rohan could hear Kosaku swallow nervously, and his brows rose in response.
Was he hitting on him?
“I’m beautiful, am I?” Rohan knew good and well he looked gorgeous, but hearing Kosaku describe it was…an interesting experience. He took out his paper pad once more, starting to sketch what he imagine Kosaku’s face was in this situation.
“Y..yes…especially your lips…I love the way they look with your…your uh…lipstick and…they look…nice.”
“I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable and this is just–I’m just rambling, I’ve been alone all day and I’m just–I’ve lost my filter, here, I’ll hang u–”
There was a pause on the line. Rohan’s pen stopped moving.
“You think about my lips. Tell me more about what you think of them. How do you think of them?”
The pause lengthened.
And then, a shaky and desperate voice.
This was unexpected…but wasn’t it exactly what Rohan was looking for in the first place? His heart quickened its beating in anticipation.
“Sometimes I think about…those lips brushing against my dick. They look so good…I…I think about looking down and seeing green stains and your lips wrapped around my cock and…a…”
Kosaku was panting a little. Rohan could almost see him palming at his cock through his pants…his pants. What was he wearing, anyway? Rohan thought it was only polite to ask.
“What are you wearing now, Kosaku?” He whispered, more sensually than he had even expected.
“A…ah, well, it’s nothing…uh…”
Kosaku swallowed again.
“A sweater. Slacks.”
Well, that wasn’t much to work with, but Rohan filled in the details with his imagination.
“Are you hard? I bet if I looked at you, I could see your dick through those slacks, hm?”
“Y..yeah…” Kosaku whimpered, and Rohan crossed his own legs in response.
“I’d spoil you, Kosaku. You deserve that. Maybe I’ll pull down your slacks and give your cock the attention it deserves.”
There was a breathy hitch at the other end, and Rohan could hear the faint sound of Kosaku undoing his belt and the rustling of fabric.
“Would you…would you please…?”
Oh. That sent a shiver down Rohan’s spine. He bit his lip hard enough to leave a lingering impression, gliding his tongue across the mark, and then spoke.
“I’d kneel between your legs and start working your cock. Gently, almost like a whisper. You can’t get everything you want right away now, can you?”
“But nothing. We start slow, got it?” Rohan scoffed, and Kosaku’s whining pitched in response.
“Your nipples must be neglected too…you’d want to touch those, right?”
Kosaku didn’t respond, and Rohan imagined him shifting his phone and balancing it between shoulder and ear so he could start working his nipples. The shaking, barely audible moan more or less confirmed that.
A surprisingly slutty mewl seeped through the speaker.
“I’ll even reward you for that. I’ll take your tip into my mouth…just the tip. I’ll suck on you. Savor you. Pay attention to that sensitive part of you with just my lips and tongue.”
There was the distinct sound of flesh working flesh, and Rohan visualized Kosaku’s rolling, bucking hips and squirmed, trying to keep his focus as he continued drawing.
“I won’t forget your balls, of course–I’ll work those, too, with my hands. I’ll dip down and suck gently at them, if you’re good. I’ll leave those little stains you love so much.”
The neediest groan erupted from Kosaku’s throat and Rohan couldn’t help but grin in response. It surprised him how much he was getting into it all, and he continued with relish.
“That feels good, doesn’t it? It’ll feel better when I take your entire shaft into my mouth…sliding it down bit by bit…feeling your warmth hitting my throat.”
There was a marked increase in the pitch and volume of Kosaku’s panting, the speed of the soft sounds of skin on skin and skin on fabric, until it ended it a series of peaking whimpers. Rohan could practically see pearly strings of cum spurting across Kosaku’s skin and slacks, and uttered his own moan, aware of the fact that he was going to have to spend some time in the shower immediately after this.
They both listened to the other breathing heavily, coming down, matching their hearts’ rhythms to what hey imagined the other’s to be.
“…Mr. Kishibe…I’m so s–”
“We’ll talk again sometime, hm?”
A surprise to the both of them.
Kosaku’s voice shook in response.
Rohan was oddly relieved to hear that.