Chapter Text
“It’s getting late,” Shouma points out once they’re outside the stadium. The sun’s long since set, but this part of the city is well-lit, and Conrart can see perfectly well the way Shouma looks him up and down when he adds, “Want to get a room somewhere?”
Conrart does appreciate a guy who takes initiative, but… “Aren’t you married?” he asks bluntly.
He’s slept with plenty of married people in his day, but isn’t this particular guy’s marriage pretty much the whole point of Conrart’s presence in this world? Shouma should be heading home to go have unprotected sex with his wife, not hitting on a near-stranger outside Fenway Park.
Shouma smiles as if Conrart just said something charming instead of, you know, pointing out his own potential future status as the reason Shin Makoku’s next Maou is a child of divorce. “My wife and I have an Arrangement,” he answers lightly. Conrart can hear the capital A. Funny, a week ago he hadn’t even known what capital letters were.
Conrart narrows his eyes, partly in disbelief, partly because Shouma’s smile hits him like a damn sunbeam.
Shouma perplexes him a little.
Supposedly, mazoku in this world age at the same rate as humans. That would be nice, actually, being able to blend in without all your loved ones dying of old age before your eyes. But in any case, maybe that’s why Shouma acts like a damn sixty-year-old kid despite appearing at least as old as Conrart is.
At that meeting with Bob earlier, Shouma had scolded him and shoved him against a wall, but only because Conrart wasn’t smiling enough or some bullshit like that. Then once Conrart cracked a smile at the ridiculousness of the situation, Shouma had excitedly dragged him to view what was purportedly an ordinary sports game, which turned out to be oddly thrilling.
And this handsome soukoku man in a sleek dark suit, who works directly under this world’s Maou, was seemingly chosen for this particular mission largely due to the housewife and toddler he has waiting at home. Chosen for how unremarkable a life he’ll provide for the future child who’ll inherit Julia’s soul.
Conrart can’t tell if Shouma’s the most boring or the most fascinating man he’s ever met.
He’s a little pretty, and a little hotheaded, very different from the last Earth guy Conrart slept with. Jose was handsome in a different way, and calm, steady, like he was interested but didn’t need anything from Conrart. He’d had no fear that Jose would do something stupid like fall for him.
He isn’t so sure about Shouma.
Shouma’s eyes glitter with excitement and a kind of heat Conrart’s not unfamiliar with, and something else that’s not quite desperation but more than just libido.
He shouldn’t do this. It’s a dumb idea.
But the gravitational pull of that smile tugs on him, and, well, Conrart’s not really known for his restraint these days.
If Shouma’s this casual about asking, though, he probably does this all the time, right? It’s not a big deal. There’s no way a single night with Conrart is going to change the course of destiny. Conrart’s been told he’s good in bed, but he’s not that good.
Anyway, if Shinou’s big capital-P Plan can’t account for Conrart fucking a handsome stranger, well, then he shouldn’t have included Conrart “Likes to Fuck Handsome Strangers” Weller in that Plan.
He meets Shouma’s eyes. “You’re paying.”