Work Text:
Heat emanates within the radius from where Isagi is. Bastard München won the game. It was, in every right, Isagi's claimed win.
His body buzzes at the rush of victory swimming his blood as he remembers the sound of whistle going off in one long note. The ball blazes to the net. That though it wasn't him who'd shot the goal, he was the playmaker, the conductor. And remembers how good it felt to have all the puzzle pieces fit the frame, to be one step further into the future than Kaiser.
Kaiser.
To have his face wiped off from the arrogant grin of a false king and instead replaced with that of pupils faltering in shock like a hideous clown who had his magic tricks outdone by a child he meant to deceive. He then remembers a declaration, sporting the intensity of a gaze that could incinerate a person.
And then—nothing .
His reply came nothing as the ground shook under his feet. Or was it his bones that quaked and lost their stability as exhaustion floods his veins, vision shutting down, body's gears coming to a grinding halt as he falls. A hand gripping the hair at the top of his head before the field, was the last sensation he felt—and feeling at the moment.
"Never thought you'd wake, Yoichi." Kaiser ruffles his hair as if he'd developed some kind of fixation to the action. Or just really into hair pulling. Reminiscent to the feeling at the field before he lost consciousness, his mind reels. But this isn't the field so he must be dreaming. That explains how he can barely move a muscle. Huh? He blinks dumbly at Kaiser, eyes half open, to which the other man regards him with an amused grin, waiting.
He processes his disposition. But in the haze of the bath, and the exhaustion in his bones, it’s nearly impossible.
“What? Stop gaping like a fool. You overheated yourself, idiot. Doing more than what your body can handle speaks about your neglect in physical training.” Kaiser says, placing his towel to the nearest rack.
“You passed out, and I offered help.”
Helped.
Kaiser had brought him here? Then he’d been such in a vulnerable state to a rival. Wait. Isagi looked down at his naked self. Something dawned on him that has the entirety of him warming up which is not the warm water of the baths' doing. “I even helped you undress.” Kaiser’s face is graced with an insufferable grin.
“I devoured you.” Isagi ignores the obvious taunt. It's possible the bastard was telling a lie anyways.
“Not with your own goal, no. Plus you have Noel Noa as your aid, so really, what does that tell?" Kaiser points out, crossing his arms, expression unreadable.
"No? But you were my challenge and I did destroy you. Even you had admitted that was impressive," a snarl, "And it won't be the last time I fucking obliterate you."
A beat.
"You know what?" Kaiser stalks towards the side of the sunken tub, invading Isagi's space in a crouching stance.
"That you did not fly all the way here from Germany for nothi—" As his jaw gets seized by one large hand, Kaiser leans in his stupid fucking face, gaze intense. Like he wants to crush the bones of Isagi's face for the way they bitingly dig on the skin of his cheeks. He must be playing with him.
"The fact that your face is more angelic sleeping." The hand moves. Isagi recognizes it a feather light caress as he whispers to his ear. "Though your expressions' no less adorable when you're awake,'' Kaiser pulls back enough to level Isagi's gaze, then even nearer for him to feel Kaiser's hot breath as he says, "I'd much prefer to see what other faces I will have you make for me."
Voice low, act suggestive, Isagi was thrown off his axis.
What the hell —that he'd fluttered his eyes in a momentary loss of control and Kaiser takes advantage of that opening all too well.
"Feeling the Kaiser impact yet?"
He did not know where he'd get the little energy from in an attempt to save what peace Kaiser continues on taking.
It's insignificant, or maybe it's insanity and definitely the wrong damn time. There's callbacks of remnants in which Isagi had let Kaiser off with a number of touches. Hand on chin, fingers crushing fingers, palm on head (seems to be Kaiser's favorite).
He's now distantly aware how Kaiser is still fully clothed, how the tattoo peeks under the uniform's collar, picks up on the atmosphere seemingly stagnating in an awful calm before the storm.
One loud slap echoes within the walls. Crown-tattooed hand falling from the purchase of Isagi's hair.
"You're a bastard even off the field," Isagi says, channeling all his animosity.
"And your expressions' ever as wonderful, Yoichi. "
Isagi hooks one finger to Kaiser's collar, pulls it to the side, baring the curve of a shoulder, the jut of a collarbone and the subject that coaxed the motion out of him; there lies Kaiser's blue rose tattoo, now in full view. It's gorgeous, he admits. He feels the dampness of the jersey on his fingers, the smell of sweat mixed with Kaiser's scent contributes nothing but a heady aching feeling he could not name.
"Yoichi. What are you doing?"
There's the slightest hitch of a voice, laced with amusement of what all this—is unfurling in the middle of the baths—entails.
"Enough taking liberties. It's my turn, you bastard of a clown."
For someone who values logic most in the field, what Isagi does next abandons the very idea of one.
Isagi's lips pressed down full on the petals of Kaiser's tattoo, wondering if his teeth feels like the thorny stem snaking Kaiser's arm if it were real instead of ink, as he sinks down and bit, tongue dragging down that path of vine and–oh. He hears a gasp. The rumble of chuckle follows. As if that can salvage the other man from what sound he just had let out.
"Your neck fetish is sure a damn delight."
"Look," Isagi pulls back enough to admire the tattoo caught up in the taint of shades of red. Crimson, scarlet, maroon? The hell would he know. It looks gorgeous all the same.
"Wouldn't you love to see your roses bloom?"
Kaiser's expression is priceless. Oh Isagi would want to frame the look of a bear who has its claws poked.
"Yoichi, you have no idea what you just started." Isagi has one, actually. Wherever it may lead, it's a pivotal point that might back Isagi into a dead end.
"Hah, try me." His ego replies. Fucking idiot.
Isagi flinches as Kaiser stands up, abandoning his previous disposition.
"For the making of a better narrative, I suggest I take up other role than that of a clown." Kaiser negotiates, sounding mischievous as usual.
"And what character would that be?" Isagi has a clue what.
"The naked emperor." He begins to undress to punctuate that point.
Swiftly, he peels off his shirt, revealing toned arms and muscled torso; the hard lines of ridges borne out of rigorous training regimen. When Kaiser drops his underpants to the floor, Yoichi cannot fight the urge to stare, catching a glimpse of the gold tuft of hair under Kaiser’s navel and the thing that follows its path downwards.
"Kaiser. Don't you dare come near me."
To his surprise, Kaiser settles to sit adjacent to him facing the bluelock's pentagon logos lining up the facility's wall. Not too close but also not so far enough that Isagi’s in a reaching distance. Isagi was certain he might definitely jump him when he crossed the edge of the tub and sank into the water.
The man looks second to none having a bliss soaking in the warm water of the bath. Meanwhile, in the humid air, Isagi looks high-strung.
"Relax, Yoichi. You make it look like I'm gonna do anything to you."
"No one can be sure that you might not try anything."
Because really, no one can. But Isagi has had baths with guys who harbor the sentiment of being teammates. Rivals, even.
So how is bathing with Kaiser any different?
For one, the man is striking in numerous nauseous ways.
From his head of uneven chopped gold hair fading into blue at the ends of his locks that falls to his naked shoulders, the curve of his lips pointed on the edges, the unforgiving set of his jaw, the plane of his face contoured, the light blue of his cat eyes and…Isagi's gaze caught on the blue-inked rose as if the tattoo possess some inbuilt magnet Isagi's eyes kept getting reeled in.
How fascinating the artistry evident on the piece that Isagi wond—a nudge to his feet underwater was what made Isagi's chain of thoughts break into tiny iron elements. His vision pans in and out of focus to Kaiser's face like a camera's lens.
Crap. From what he wishes isn't far too long, he's caught—"Staring, aren't we?" Kaiser raises a brow, a hand hovers over the surface as fingers flick water to Isagi's face to which he grits his teeth in annoyance and winces at the impact. The bastard.
"You must be imagining things," Isagi replies in a futile attempt to dodge the bullet.
That's when he feels it again.
"Hmm not sure about that."
From where it's concealed to the world, view skewed by the water surface, the soft sensation of Kaiser's feet came to tap the top of Isagi's foot. Not stopping there; moving on the slope of the shin.
"You know, yoichi, if you want something you just gotta learn how to ask for it." Kaiser grazes his toes under Isagi's calf as if smearing heat. Isagi threatens to melt, he stays there unmoving; internally keening. Kaiser lays his cheek on his palm, leaning his weight on the tub's ledge, hair falling across his face as his head tilts. Expression smug. Indulging.
He cannot withstand the ongoing show which Kaiser's palm is the stage. If this is how he longs to fight, Isagi can meet him head on and play the game.
"Cut the crap." He sneers as he slaps Kaiser's unruly leg with a kick underwater. Kaiser's head caught in the crossfire, looking like a rat straight out of the canal with his wet hair losing its volume, plastered all over his forehead. Isagi is so dead, but the amusement of the sight has his lips tugging on the corner.
The answer to the attack is immediate as Kaiser hooks a foot at the back of Isagi's knee, shifting his body forward. There was no use of hands, only legs sparring.
As if they're fighting in the soccer field and it's the only language they know of. The movements mimic that of dribbling the ball like they're battling for its possession. Isagi thought silly, how much he'd love to strike specific balls—Kaiser's, that is—straight out of the park.
Satisfaction spreads for quite a second, and out through his mouth as an airy chuckle escapes at the mere image.
Only, too late did it register that he had made a blunder.
Isagi knows better than anyone not to underestimate a beast who has his pride wounded for it spurs them more for revenge, for the kill.
It seems someone got to the goal first.
The heavy weight of Kaiser's foot between his legs is proof once more how an exceptional striker Kaiser is; the strength of his lower body imminent when he'd reroute a leg, trapping Isagi's right leg between his left one and the tub's floor. The gap had shown a sliver of opportunity for Kaiser's right one, digging into the meat of Isagi's inner thigh, driving towards the target.
"Mind to share what's funny, sweetheart?"
Isagi tries to shake off the force that is Kaiser's strength but fails as it feels like getting chained down by thousands of metal. Compared to him, Kaiser still has fuel while all of Isagi's stamina is used up to flames in the game. But damn, if this isn't the most vulnerable Isagi felt in his soccer career yet.
Here.
Here, where Isagi's cock is pinned against the arch of Kaiser's foot. He uses his hand to have Kaiser's foot get the fuck away but to no avail, it only drives further. Isagi gasps trying to grasp that thread of sanity slowly vanishing by how good being stepped on felt. Jesus.
"Oops . Looks like you're already hard." Kaiser says, matter of fact. Just to be shameless, the ball of his foot grazes the tip of Isagi's cock all the way down.
"Kaiser."
A warning; dreading how his voice fails to translate contempt as it comes out begging.
"Don't."
His foot now reaches the base, then strokes upwards.
"Tell me you want this."
"Stop."
Because it need be but Isagi wants.
"And what are you gonna do about this?" Under, he traps the cock in a caress. He's proving once more what other skills those feet can do.
Isagi gathers his bearings, evens out his breathing. "Wait for it to calm down. Wait for it to go away."
"You make it sound so simple. Let me help you."
"You make it sound so simple."
Kaiser has the nerve to scoff.
"Is it not? I've never met someone so thick-skinned to reject my offer. Why? Is it 'cause you don't find me fairly attractive? At all?"
Fairly ? That's humble even for him. Kaiser is the personification of attractiveness. He embodies Isagi's ideal, after all. Like hell he'd give him that satisfaction of knowing that though.
"You're infuriating to an extreme degree that If I possess the ability to blow you into fucking smithereens, I fucking will ."
"You have my permission to—not into–" Kaiser follows up with fingers comically resembling quotation marks in the air, " fucking smithereens, however . You can just..." Pulling a vulgar face: one hand forms a round shape as he hollows out his cheeks, "blow me."
Oh, he thinks he's funny. He thinks he's so funny. Isagi feels a surge of headache. He is so tired he'd settled with giving Kaiser the finger.
Overpowered by fury, he'd almost forgotten Kaiser has one foot against him. But Isagi doesn't yield. He does not think he will, despite Kaiser's persistence to change that with one teasing brush of toes on his cock. He trembles.
"Just say the word, Yoichi, and you can have more." The promise is as tempting as an evil witch's apple. "Do the blue lock guys don't fuck?"
They quite do, actually. For a moment, Isagi recalls a night when he's asked to check and see if Kunigami and Chigiri are still alive as they're running late for the meeting with the permission that they can soak some more in the baths. The team did not mind and left them alone. What Isagi didn't expect to walk in on is the red-headed princess being pinned to the bathroom wall, legs wrapped around the orange-head's muscled form and—Isagi shakes away the image. He's not sure he wants to disclose that information to Kaiser, of all people.
"Withdraw your foot, fucker."
"Tell me, Yoichi. Are you the good boy type who doesn't involve himself in such activities?" Then the bastard gasps like he'd unearthed something valuable. "No one—had no one ever?"
"Not everyone is a perverted bastard like you."
The bastard catches on.
"Hah! I would not have thought so with how you make rivals of everyone you meet. And having that filthy mouth on you I'd suspect at least everyone thirsts to pounce that ass in more ways than one."
Isagi flushed, not for the fact that's been unveiled that he had no sexual experience, but the obscene way Kaiser perceived him to be. Like some kind of a…slut.
"Isn't it the same for everyone?" Kaiser still sounds like he's in disbelief.
"What is?"
"Seeking pleasure as part of human nature." Isagi can't see how that's supposed to be essential in his soccer career.
"So I guess Michael Kaiser isn't so alike to a god, huh?"
"Eh? A body is a body, after all." His face tugs into a knowing smirk. A face of a man about to reap satisfaction on what distasteful information he's about to serve. "Of course, even for that…hero of yours."
That was the last straw.
Isagi detests his mind for whatever vivid images of Noel Noa with some…boy writhing against a mattress under him.
He pushes his body to get out of the bath, hard or not. But Kaiser is faster and Isagi's back on his ass sitting, water overspilling out of the tub from the impact.
Kaiser already has a fistful of Isagi's hair, tugging it back, baring the elegant column of Isagi's throat.
Suddenly, Kaiser is an overwhelming presence, highlighting their difference in physique and how much Isagi wants to surrender.
Dangerous. Isagi thinks.
The teeth against his throat feels like a knife that'll tear him open and prove he's something to be desired. Kaiser does none of the tearing. Yet. Lips only hovering on the skin gliding upwards to rest on Isagi's jaw. "Stop being so goddamn difficult. I'm serious." Kaiser says like he's the one being tested, rather than doing the seducing.
That's when Isagi felt it then, realizing how much Kaiser's holding back. Kaiser rolls his hips against Isagi's hardness. For what little remains of his sanity, it's not hard to tell Kaiser too, is fully aroused. Isagi chokes down a sound but the ache to be touched only grows by the second. "Be over with your hair kink. It's not attractive." He managed to say.
Alas, it only fuels Kaiser even more to be insufferable. Methodically, he releases his grip, fingers combing through nape and scalp, then slowly tightening his fist on the roots of Isagi's hair once more. Then gives it one precise tug that has Isagi's body arching; a shiver travels his spine south. Isagi moans. His hands came to dig on Kaiser's shoulders.
He thinks he fell into a hole of deliriousness.
"Why stop when you seem to love it so much, you slut. Now imagine being fucked by the God's chosen emperor himself." Kaiser says raggedly as he mouths on the bump of Isagi's throat, couples it with a hard grind Isagi's learning to miss each time in the absence of Kaiser's heat where he most needed it. "Bet you'd like that huh."
Isagi is unrelenting still, however. Though his self-control is frayed. His hands push against Kaiser's strong chest.
God's Chosen Emperor.
Isagi snickers and looks directly at Kaiser's bewildered eyes (clearly not appreciating Isagi's interruption from mottling his neck with bruises) and spits. "More like the fucking devil's spawn."
Saliva runs down Kaiser's cheek but made no move to wipe it off nor did he blink and flinched when the spit landed without his behest.
Isagi had never seen a painting so perfect.
He has only celebrated his delight in seconds' time when Kaiser cages him with his arms bracketing on either of Isagi's sides. One hand pulling a fistful of Isagi's hair; tugs it with more force than the last as his scalp cries out. The other adorns his neck like jewelry full of spikes, deadly but beautiful. The line between pain and pleasure blurs. The thrum of arousal is more pronounced than before.
When Isagi thought this could not get any better worse, Kaiser's tongue shoved down the walls of his ear. The one which has no micro-interpreter inside. Kaiser growls and nips. Isagi fears he might tear the organ. But what he has coming next terrifies him in a way that might never restore his sanity.
"Warum zeigst du mir nicht was dich an macht, Yoichi."
Hard syllables lodged the drums of his ears. It pierces. By a miracle, he survived Kaiser's unfiltered voice; the rawness by which he says Yoichi, in that harsh German accent cursing Isagi's pulse to go faster, body turning into furnace.
At the same time, the micro-interpreter translates what he's unable to comprehend in Kaiser's language:"Now now, why don't we trade kinks,Yoichi."
Kaiser pulls back, body pressing no longer to Isagi's. His hand dives underwater as if he might find treasure there. Knuckles glide past Isagi's thighs, fingers coming to a halt on his calf and—there goes the treasure. Palm wraps around Isagi's ankle before he finds it sitting over Kaiser's shoulder.
Alarm blares on Isagi's head. How all this must be Kaiser's ploy to lower his guard and when he finally does, the man, in a bitter tragedy of his pride being wounded, breaks Isagi's leg so he could never get to kick a ball ever again. Oh how so easy for him to put an end to Isagi's soccer career just like that.The fall of bluelock's ace printed in bold letters. The headlines going through his mind are for the history books.
When Kaiser's head tilt to the side, holding Isagi's gaze with lidded dark eyes, and the way his mouth hovers over the edge of Isagi's heel, all thoughts and control is paralyzed, saved for the traitorous mouth that spills a whine and incomprehensible sounds when Kaiser licks a stripe up the arch of his foot. The expression that Kaiser carries is one hell of a material for the magazine covers. Others ought to pay for it, but Isagi gets to see this for free, or with the cost of his body; a fair trade.
Isagi could be disgusted, could hate what Kaiser does to him. Yet his body is ever as honest when the other boy takes his time pouring attention from the tiniest toe, up to the hallux. Skillful lips enclose on every dome of Isagi's toe like Kaiser's a kid tasting candy for the first time. Sucking noises bounces on the tiled walls. Kaiser does the same careful treatment to Isagi's other foot. It's obscene how Kaiser does it. And how Isagi can't dare look away, hand gripping on the side of the bath refraining to push his toes deeply further on the cavern of Kaiser's mouth; his self-restraint being tested, but it seems he lost that a long time ago.
"Your feet really do wonders on the field, don't they?" Teeth graze on his ankle. When it sinks on the skin there, Isagi registers pleasure instead of pain. "They're your lifeline. They're to be worshipped," Kaiser says as he soothes the spot he'd sunk his teeth on with tongue lapping over it.
Suddenly, he's being dragged up to his feet, back against the wall. Unfortunate that his legs can only support briefly. The ledge takes the full of his weight. It is not clear what Kaiser's trying to achieve but in the midst of all Isagi's desire-smogged eyes, when the other boy drops to his knees, he recalls "Kneel" as one of the first words he'd heard from Kaiser since they met.
Look who's kneeling now.
Somehow, Kaiser groveling does not rid him a single mote of dominance. Kaiser's lips hover dangerously on the low of Isagi's stomach, traveling south, sneaking a kiss on the dip of Isagi's hip.
As tongue laps on the aching head of Isagi's length, the gap of his legs split wider at the pleasure. Or at the sensual sight of Kaiser. Everything is in a haze, yet, the fingers that dig on his thigh are grounding. He makes the mistake of looking down directly at Kaiser when he swallows him whole in a slow profound pace.
They gaze at one another. Isagi's pulse picks up once more; shame is an afterthought. Even when Kaiser abandons Isagi's cock to spit on his hole. The act induced gooseflesh all over Isagi's body.
Kaiser hooks his arms at the back of Isagi's knee making his shoulders a leverage to gain better access as he nestles back down; tongue, a warm heat from the base of Isagi's cock, down to his opening where Kaiser's mouth feast on. Isagi curses a litany of "Yes…y-es. Please."
"This hole needs so badly to be fucked by me, aint it, virgin boy?" Kaiser says as he rubs a rosy bud of Isagi's nipple.
"Don't flatter yourself, naked king." He grits even as his hand comes to rest on top of Kaiser's head, grabbing at the hair meeting Kaiser's fingers by thrusting in his mouth.
Shame is an afterthought.
The way Isagi's member disappears completely to Kaiser's mouth, tongue moving up and down the shaft is mesmerizing as he works his hole open. It is, honest to god, too much stimulation but never enough.
Isagi would like to congratulate Kaiser for acquiring a new title: the patron saint of sucking cock.
Show-off.
A groan punches out of him as Kaiser adds another finger; the third one. Knuckles stroking past a spot that has Isagi's jaw going slack. Obscene noises continue to fill the room. Pleasure builds up at Kaiser's increase of pace. Isagi's body is a bow string being pulled taut and taut as climax can be seen on the horizon.
And then…the spell broke.
This Bastard.
Kaiser withdraws his finger and mouth; all motions that coaxed pleasure out of Isagi comes to a halt.
His momentary disappointment was smothered to ash when Kaiser comes at him with renewed agression.
Pulled up to his feet, Kaiser turns him around; face shoved against the wall. He's unable to shoot a reprimand.
"Close your thighs. Sorry, you've to settle with this for now." He says, positioning his cock between Isagi's thigh with a light push. "If my cock gets a taste of your hole this instant, it wouldn't just end in one round." How infinitely cocky.
Isagi can feel and see the girth of Kaiser's dick. It's reasonable enough how he's in proportion everywhere; size as enormous as his superiority complex. But damn, Isagi does not know if the monstrous thing can fit in his ass.
"I'll fuck you hard and nice on a mattress next time."
Next time. That, too, is a promise; notion difficult to carry.
"Tighter, sweetheart." He squeezes Isagi's hip, latching his teeth on the soft skin of Isagi's nape. He grants the man mercy as he'd tighten his thighs and decides it's worth it when he's rewarded with his cock in Kaiser's hand.
Kaiser strokes it with vigor in unison with the sensation of the cock smoothly sliding through the opening of Isagi's ass, rubbing under his balls in the process. Isagi knows he's nearing his climax. The feeling: familiar, profound, a searing heat.
He bits back a moan, teeth digging his lower lip, but it's impossible as his eyes roll and his mouth fails him.
"Unravel, Yoichi." By some instinct, Isagi heeds.
White strings of cum stains the tiled wall. His climax feels like a vindication to all his sins committed.
Shuddering in the aftershocks, behind him, Kaiser fucks in a rapid pace like a dog in heat as he, too, approaches the end of this exploit. Kaiser covers his body with his body. He cums, dick still in between Isagi's thigh. The sound rips out of him is that of a guttural cry of a beast barely smothered against his nape. Isagi could replay the sound in his head for later.
Kaiser made a mess out of his thigh as semen dripped down. Before Isagi has the chance to bemoan about it, Kaiser's weight is not something he can take for long and so unceremoniously, his body submerged in bath water, bringing with it Kaiser.
Kaiser, whose chest heaves and looks impossibly human in a rich color of flushed cheeks than porcelain white and hair damp with sweat sticking chaotically over his forehead. How his presence paints the sterile room blue with his eyes. And hair. And the roses of his gorgeous stupid tattoo.
Stuck in the trenches of his musing, Kaiser had already cradled Isagi's head ever so gently, tucking a strand of hair behind his ear. Seemingly not satisfied, he brushed back Isagi's hair exposing his forehead. There's a playful smile on Kaiser's lips as he pokes the tip of Isagi's nose to which Isagi scrunches in response.
"Stop thinking. That pretty head of yours shall rest."
Unbeknownst to him, Kaiser leans in. His lips a hair's breadth away from Isagi's.
"Make me then." Isagi says, a soft whisper. "As how you believe to be good at almost everything, show me." He'd meant to put real heat and snark. Embers is what it really was: the charred remains of hatred on the field. "Make me stop thinking." It almost sounds like a plea, and hopes the vagueness masks the vulnerability. Masks what he aches for.
True it may be that what perdures next is not an act of conscious decision but only on a whim, still, it makes him feel.
When Isagi's lids shutter, the kiss that landed is a meteor-strike. Kaiser kisses the way he plays in a field. Fervent, horrid, a grandeur. The contact of Kaiser's tongue inside his mouth, too, is like standing on a field, sparking chemical reactions. All the puzzles making up his bigbang piece only consist of Kaiser's face.
When Kaiser kissed him, it was spatial awareness disabled; tinkered for Isagi's vision of the field obscured but narrowing down only to blue. Maybe, the first step Kaiser had taken past through the sliding doors of the bathroom, metavision has ceased to exist.
This is not a field, though. This a public fucking bath, but by some fucking miracle, god had spared them the embarrassment of being walked on. This is reality.
Reality means the kiss breaks, both boys catch their breaths and Isagi Yoichi comes face to face with Michael fucking Kaiser.
Captively disarming.
He attempts to stand. He must return to his room and ponder through a million assessments and conclude how this is a bad idea. Desire is a dangerous drug. But that attempt is quickly pulverized as his hand was pulled reflexively. He slams back down straight on Kaiser's hard chest.
"Stay."
"We're not—There is no need." Isagi hisses.
Somehow, he cannot put a finger on why his cheeks flare up. As if his body gathered into Kaiser's arms is more shameful than when the man shoved a finger up his ass enthusiastically. He internally bristled.
"I've given you what you want. It's fair trade that I claim what I need."
"...Need what? Cuddles?" Isagi risks.
"Shut up. Don't breathe a word of this to anyone."
A bubble of laughter resurfaced out of Isagi's mouth.
And no, Isagi does not think he will. Not when it will revoke his card for this ephemeral condition.
Across the field, he'd follow Kaiser from close behind, chasing the no. 10 on his back and studying his thought patterns from his viewpoint. His ego tells him to take more; to want more.
He's staring at the crown adorning Kaiser's other hand. Kaiser is not brittle—none of them are—but when Isagi lets his fingers trace the trail of vines on the slopes of Kaiser's arm, it's with a gentleness and reverence. Stopping on the blue rose of his neck, Kaiser's jaw tenses momentarily as the lump of his throat moves.
"Your tattoo...Would you tell me its story?"
There's a deliberate silence. The air charged.
"Another time, egoist."
It's not a no. There's no certainty, but still, it's not a rejection.
Another time.
Isagi felt that what had transpired irrevocably changed the trajectory of a careening ball towards the goalposts.