Dinner with a Devil in Pinstripes
It had always been a problem of his. He was the kind of person who'd be your fake date at a wedding, the kind of person who'd let you borrow his favorite shirt with the surety of it never getting it back, the kind of person who would give you his entire lunch and pretend he had already eaten. Itou Kaiji was a man who was entirely too kind for the world. It was frustrating, infuriating. Even times like this, he couldn't say no. It had been nearly two years now. Two long years with only sunlight from floor to ceiling windows and cable television. He knew the exact number of tiles in the kitchenette, the feel of the real leather couch on his back, the plain white ceiling he stared at blankly every day. At some point he'd just given up. He couldn't pinpoint exactly when or why. He never had liked working, after all. In some ways it was a pretty good deal.
In others, not so much. For one thing, he was in charge of cooking. A self-imposed chore to break up the monotony and to keep himself from having to eat things that looked closer to charcoal than food. It was understandable after all, Kazuya had lived his entire life being waited on hand and foot by servants. He'd actually offered to hire a professional chef after realizing Kaiji was only humoring him and really flushing his dinners down the toilet. This struck Kazuya as strange for a few reasons, one- he had thought he was at least a decent chef, his entire life people had said his cooking was excellent; two- the old Kaiji would've thrown it at him. It was both cute and depressing simultaneously. Kaiji, wearing an apron out of habit, was cooking dinner for the pair. He had always been a ramen and more ramen type but with this much free time and surplus of expensive ingredients cooking had become easy for him. He frequently would make entire traditional Japanese dinners for them, slightly disturbed by just how much Kazuya enjoyed the taste of raw meat. He was nearly a hundred percent sure in the back of his mind Kazuya was picturing Kaiji on the table prepared in a similar way.
This thought surprisingly filled him with zero fear. There was, of course, a risk involved in living with this spoiled prince... His body had more than enough scars and knitted bones to prove it. Over time, the fear faded. He still flinched whenever he got near but no where near the initial dread. He was more bored than afraid for his life. As he laid the dishes on the table he frowned. He hated how much they seemed like a married couple. He wondered how he'd gotten so complacent, so meek. A domesticated human. He sat down to read, trying hard to ignore the plastic wrapped fantastic dinner sitting out on the table. Cliché domestic bliss at its highest.
He always came home with a grin on his face. He dropped his textbooks and bag on the floor and would grab Kaiji regardless of where he was or what he was doing and give him a hug.
"I'm home~" he'd say with a beaming smile. He always wondered what kind of gloomy face he made at home before Kaiji had come to live with him. It was disgusting but in a way strangely flattering. He made this face like he was the luckiest man alive. It brought color to his cheeks and an downward angle to his eyebrows.
"Get off of me." Shrugging the larger man off of him he pointed to the table. He braced himself, knowing he was about to get hugged even harder than last time. Just as expected, he was thrust into another crushing hug, lost in intoxicating body heat and comforting pressure. It was this kind of hug he hated the most. He would've taken a punch in the face any day of the week over this. "It'll get cold, get off of me and let's go eat."
"You could've eaten it earlier you know, you don't have to wait for me... like I'm in class till 9 and all," He said aloofly. Kaiji unconsciously thinned his lips and fought back the urge to shout 'idiot! I wanted to eat with you together!!'. His interactions with Kazuya were his only human interactions period. He was lonely, incredibly lonely but also incredibly stubborn.
"Idiot." He settled with that. He pulled the saran wrap from the food, still warm and giving off a glorious fragrance. He'd come a long way from convenience store fare cooking. Kazuya said nothing, he was a surprisingly quiet eater, quite different from his projected image, perhaps a throwback to his upbringing. A slight smile, he appreciated the food definitely, however....that face had 'I've got something to say but I won't say it' written all over. Kaiji stared unabashedly at him, spoon still in his mouth. "I don't like when you're like this, it's gross."
"Oh?" he raised an eyebrow with intrigue. "Does that imply that you do like me sometimes?"
"You wish," He smirked. "You're acting really weird,"
"You're getting bored too." It was a statement more than anything, punctuated with a steak knife trailing down his cheek leaving red beads gradually growing larger in its wake.
"What the hell, eat your dinner." An entirely too light reprimand. A tiny slap on the wrist. He winced as the pain began to register. Kazuya usually left his face alone, too. Today he was most decidedly NOT leaving his face alone. Taking Kaiji's statement to heart, he walked up and sat down next to Kaiji; licking the blood from his face. He'd known it was coming, but nothing quite can prepare a person for that. He squirmed in his seat uncomfortably. It had been a very long time since anything like this had happened.
"Kaiji-san, you're delicious" he whispered softly into Kaiji's ear, of course pausing to lick the uneven scar. "Your cooking too,"
".... thanks..." Responding more to the second than the first, although the first made him uncomfortably turned on. Kazuya had never complimented his cooking before though. He'd never insulted it or anything but... he felt sort of happy.
"Kaiji.... Kaiji... can I do that again? I've held back so long..."
"......even if I said no you'd do it anyways," He huffed. Kazuya frowned almost imperceptibly and ran the knife down the front of Kaiji's shirt. He'd lost entirely too many good shirts this way.
"Kaiji..... Kaiji......." Kaiji hated, hated his hot breath, his overpowering kisses, his torrid whispers...shallow, taunting wounds. Wounds that weren't deep enough to be painful but deep enough to be annoying for weeks.
"You're holding back." Kaiji said blankly. "just hurry up and kill me already. I'm so bored of this apartment..."
"You wanna move somewhere else?" He looked up, almost hurt.
"That's not the problem."
"You want to go out to dinner tomorrow? With handcuffs of course."
"........I won't run. Kazuya, I didn't even move just now..."
"I would attribute that more to you being deeply turned on my my stunning sexiness"
"....... I want to go to a family restaurant." After eating nothing but gourmet food for two years straight it was starting to get a bit dull.
"... Why? Oh well, no matter we'll go." He said, sucking absentmindedly on Kaiji's wounds like some teething vampire. "Kaiji-san, that face is erotic, are you that happy we're going to eat commoner's food?"
Just a little. In the very back of his mind. A little part of him was excited because he was going on a date.