Shiro & Jay, the morning after

[x-sanfuaiyaa.livejournal.com]

It's not a pretty scene. Possibly NSFW.


All the stories and movies don't really do justice to the hangover. For all Shiro had heard of or seen them, he did not know that he would feel like Death, as bad as he ever did suffering through withdrawals from Kick or Alex's powers. It felt like someone had put a vice on his head, coated his body in oil, stuffed his mouth with cotton, and replaced his stomach with a wave pool. He rolled onto his front and buried his face in his pillow to protect his eyes from the sunlight shining through the window . . . which after five minutes he realized was on the wrong side of the room. He cautiously raised his head and opened his eyes, wondering if he'd laid his head at the foot of the bed last night by accident, and was greeted by a bed mate with long copper hair . . . and huge red wings. Shiro backed away so fast that he fell off the bed onto the floor, and quickly realized that he was completely undressed.

Dozing, Jay sighed and turned his head, resting it on the other side of the pillow. He opened them to see Shiro on the floor and grinned, stretching out more on his stomach. His wings fanned out and he turned his shoulders slightly, closing an eye until he heard a 'pop!'. Sighing, he slid back down on his stomach like a lazy cat on a Sunday afternoon, wondering what time it was. Too early to be awake, obviously.

That's when it registered that Shiro was on the floor. "What's up?" he asked.

Shiro turned green at the sight of Jay. Images of the previous night filtered through the fog in his mind. He buried his face in his hands and forced whatever was in his stomach to stay down there. "What did we do?" he groaned.

Jay smiled thoughtfully, recalling everything they did. He leaned into another stretch before realizing Shiro's distraught. Pushing himself up to sit on his legs, the single sheet slipped away, revealing a very lean, nude body. He rested his hands on his thighs, adjusting his wings. The bedroom smelled, the sheets smelled, he smelled. Everything smelled of sex and Jay raised his eyebrows. "Nuttin' you didn't want to do."

"That does not answer my question." Shiro ripped the sheet off the bed and wrapped in around his waist as he stood up, and took another step back to survey his surroundings. Just a bed, TV, desk, and chair furnished what must be a hotel room, while their clothes, an empty package of condoms, and a bottle of lubricant lay strewn across the floor. "I remember those drinks, and we danced, and then we came here . . ." To avoid having to go back to the mansion, but mostly so they could get their clothes off as quickly as possible.

"You're a great dancer when you're drunk," Jay said casually. He climbed off the bed, sauntering over to the coffee pot and prepared to make two cups. He doubted Shiro wanted anything though. He looked pale and almost sick by what happened. How typical. Of course any guy Jay sleeps with has a major freak out. Hopefully it wouldn't split into a complete melt down. Jay left Shiro to his thoughts, going into the washroom without another word. The door didn't fully close, but opened a crack. The full length of his wings accented the sensual curve of his rear sliding down into strong thighs and lean legs. A long lengthy sigh of relief fell from his lips and his wing brushed the open door. Glancing over his shoulder, Jay smirked when he realized how much Shiro could see and tisked, closing the door for the sake of his privacy.

Shiro caught himself staring when Jay rebuked him, and blushed furiously as the door closed. He looked around the room as his memories became more clear, which only served to turn him even redder. He sat down at the foot of the bed and waited for Jay to return. At the very least, he knew he couldn't just flee, tempting though that thought was.

He took his time and since Shiro looked like he was going to die, Jay didn't bother to come out right away. Instead, the run of hot shower filled the silence of the room and Jay's faint humming broke away any of his own discomfort. Five minutes later, with a towel around his waist and partially wet, he emerged from the washroom with a lopsided grin.

"Still here huh? Thought you would have left." Jay sauntered up to Shiro, the thick sexual tension in the air nearly suffocating Shiro as far as he could see and Jay stopped in front of him, looking expectant. He leaned down, his eyes covered by his wet hair and picked up his jeans from the floor.

"I cannot check out of the room when there is still someone here," replied Shiro wryly. He looked away, not trusting his eyes to stay focused on Jay's face rather than his torso. "Listen, Guthrie. Last night was . . . I am confused. I do not know why I did it."

"You payin' then?" he asked. Now it just sounded like he was a whore and Jay rolled his tongue against the side of his cheek, standing up and throwing the towel aside. Shaking out his jeans, he pulled them on, one leg at a time, not surprised to hear Shiro's confusion and buttoned up. "Cause you were horny and need to get laid?" He was waiting for the straight man's speech, how he wasn't gay, how this entire thing was a huge mistake and stood in the middle of the room, looking for his shirt.

"I thought that much was obvious. Is that not what normal people do? Go to a social setting, consume until inhibitions are lost, then fuck the first willing passerby." And now Shiro was normal. Too bad that did not feel good. "What did you expect, anyway? A declaration of undying love?"

"You got problems if you're talkin' about love," Jay said, unmoved by the slight and grabbed his shirt from a nearby chair, pulling it over his head. His wings snapped out through the holes and he pulled it down, rolling his shoulders. He was in love, but with someone else and that love came with conditions. "You sounded a lot more normal being liquored up," he said, picking up his wallet off the side table and checked the money.

"I suppose that I just do not do 'normal.'" Shiro finally looked up. "I have a lot of problems, Guthrie, all of them brought on by myself and foolish decisions that I have made, and I think that I have just compounded them. This remains between us, do you understand?"

Jay snorted. "Why the hell should Ah be keepin' your dirty secrets? You screwed me and you liked it. Your problems ain't mah problems, Yoshi." He slipped his wallet into his pocket and turned to leave.

Shiro was up in half a heartbeat and stood between Jay and the door. He pulled himself up to his full height, but still stood a good half a foot shorter than Jay. His first instinct was to threaten physical violence, but really, what good would that do? He tried to look menacing, anyway. "You, sober, fucked me, drunk. How is that going to look?"

Jay backed up a pace, tempted to shove Shiro out of his face, but he refrained. "Ah ain't the bad guy here, so don't start that victim bullshit. Ah don't care what anyone says. You wanted it sober, but you had to get a few drinks in ya to admit it. Not.Mah.Problem," Jay said in a sharp tone, pronouncing the last three, syllable for syllable and he went to brush past Shiro for the door.

Shiro didn't budge, and grabbed Jay's wrist with a vice-like grip when he tried to pass. "Jay. Please." It wasn't quite a plea, but the desperation was obvious enough in his tone. "Just . . . don't."

"Ow," Jay took in a sharp breath, his brow creasing at the subtle pain and uselessly jerked his arm away. He gave it another pull, towards his chest and held it there in a face off. But the tone disarmed him immediately, forcing him into a submission he didn't want. "Fine. Ah'll add ya to mah growing list of nameless jerks," Jay snapped, because really, Shiro was on that list, only it wasn't jerks, it was guys who wouldn't admit they were gay.

"If that works for you." Shiro let go and stepped aside so Jay could leave. He wanted to say something, but 'Thanks for the great time' seemed like it wouldn't go over too well now. "I suppose I will see you later," he offered lamely, but he silently hoped that he wouldn't.

He rubbed his sore wrist and brushed past, heading for the door. "You won't," Jay said and closed the door behind him.