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Saunas are suffocating. The heat presses in on the chest like a hand, and if you're not used to it, the body reads it plainly as threat—lungs working harder, pulse climbing, something old and animal clawing at the back of the throat. Kaiser found it a decent enough substitute, for when his own hands around his throat were losing their impact.
He must've briefly fallen asleep, because as his consciousness clawed its way back, it came with a jolt of confusion. He couldn't see through the steam, and his face was pressed down into the bench. Something—no, someone—was pressing down on him, a firm weight pinning his hips to the bench.
Maybe he'd been here, with someone, in the sauna? Japan had a particular talent for making foreigners feel subhuman, and Kaiser appreciated that. The men here had a way of looking straight through him, all projection, no pretense, which suited him well. He was a surface, a shape, something foreign and usable. He'd been that before. His dad had looked at him the same way, when he was small enough to slip through windows other people couldn't reach. Being useful for something was its own kind of intimacy.
Which sauna was he in? He could barely recall, which was either a sign that the evening had gone well, or that it hadn't gone at all, and he was still trying to decide which. There had been someone. He thought. The details were soft at the edges, in the way they got when he hadn't particularly been paying attention.
Lorenzo was around, and he remembered thinking that option was almost appealing compared to the healthy coping mechanisms his therapist had prattled on about. Maybe he'd ended up spending the evening with that redhead from Manshine. He was easy on the eyes, and his relationship issues were somewhat amusing as long as he didn't start rambling about them. If he was really bored, maybe it was Ness. Ness had a way of making himself available that was convenient, though Kaiser had learned to be more selective about taking him up on it. Some things got complicated if you let them repeat too often.
It must've been Noa, then. Because the pressure above him felt strong. Strong enough to pull something older to the surface; his dad's hands had been like this. Heavy. Insurmountable. He remembered it the way you remember sweltering heat: not the details, but the weight of it, the inexplicable reality of being nothing against a force of nature.
"Noa?" Kaiser's voice came out as a breathy croak.
A pregnant pause settled in. "Really?" The voice was low, edged with irritation and something darker.
Kaiser's eyes widened, shock cutting through the haze. He couldn't mistake that voice for anyone else. "Yoichi? What the fuck—" He bucked against the hold, a surge of hatred twisting in his gut like a knife.
Isagi scoffed. "Noa too? Rumors must be true, then."
Kaiser's breath hitched, fury sharpening his glare even as his body betrayed him. "What rumors?"
Isagi leaned in closer, his free hand clamping down on Kaiser's shoulder, nails digging in to pin him firmly. Sweat dripped from his brow onto Kaiser's chest. "Don't play dumb. You're open to anyone—coaches, players, hell, even the janitors."
"And?" Kaiser snarled, forcing the words out through gritted teeth. The steam from the sauna had leeched the strength from him. He was almost certainly dehydrated. He tried to straighten up, to reassert himself, but his limbs refused, heavy and useless at his sides. How long had he been in here?
Isagi's thumb circled Kaiser's rim teasingly, then hooked into the base of the plug Kaiser had forgotten he was wearing—an indulgence he'd slipped in before the sauna. With a deliberate tug, Isagi pulled it free, the sudden emptiness making Kaiser whimper pathetically, his hole fluttering around nothing.
"Public sauna, and you're plugged up like this? Pathetic," Isagi taunted, tossing the toy aside with a clatter. He didn't give Kaiser time to recover, sliding two fingers back in, then a third, stretching him wide with slow, insistent pumps.
"It's not for you," Kaiser hissed, voice cracking as pleasure coiled tight and treacherous in his core. "Get your shitty fingers out of me."
Isagi said nothing. He scissored his fingers unhurriedly, finding that spot and returning to it again and again with quiet precision. "Emperor on the field," he murmured, almost to himself. "But here? You're just a pathetic slut." He carried on without acknowledgement of Kaiser's half-hearted protests, like they were nothing at all.
"Fuck you," Kaiser gasped, but his hips rocked back involuntarily, chasing the burn. The sauna's humidity made everything slicker, sweat dripping down his spine to mix with the lube from the plug. He couldn't see Isagi's face, couldn't gauge the smirk he knew was there—he only felt the curl of those fingers, probing deep, brushing that spot that made his toes curl.
"I might," Isagi shot back, his voice husky as he leaned down, breath hot against Kaiser's ear.
"Shitty Yoichi. I don't want you," Kaiser lied through gritted teeth, but his ass clenched greedily around the invading digits, slick sounds filling the sauna.
Isagi chuckled low, pointing out the obvious. "Your hole's sucking me in like it never wants me to leave. Body's honest, even if your mouth's full of shit."
Kaiser was almost grateful his face was pressed flat against the bench. When Isagi shifted, leaning in closer, the hard length of his cock brushed against his thigh, sending electric sparks racing up Kaiser's spine. He wanted it—craved the stretch, the fullness.
Isagi didn't make him wait. He withdrew his fingers with a wet pop, lining up the blunt tip of his cock against Kaiser's entrance. With a slow, deliberate push, he slid inside, and Kaiser moaned breathily.
"Fuck," Isagi gritted out, voice strained as he sank deeper, inch by inch, his hands gripping Kaiser's thighs to spread them wider. "You're good for something, Kaiser. Taking it like you were made for this."
Kaiser shook beneath him, the reality hitting harder than any fantasy—the girth stretching him to his limits, filling him completely in a way that made his vision blur. Isagi felt better than he'd imagined, the burn giving way to overwhelming pleasure as Isagi bottomed out, balls pressing against his ass. "Move," he demanded hoarsely, hatred and need twisting together, his cock leaking profusely now.
Isagi obliged with a sharp snap of his hips, pulling out halfway before slamming back in, setting a brutal pace that rocked the bench, wood slick with perspiration. Kaiser's face slid against it; he couldn't lift his head and he wasn't sure if he wanted to. There was nothing but blurred wood grain and steam-vaporized shadows, the wet slap of skin, the hiss of his own breaths, and Isagi's grunts mingling with the sauna's low roar. He felt teeth graze his neck, sucking hard enough to leave a blooming red mark.
"Don't fucking leave a hickey, clown," Kaiser panted.
Isagi hummed, fingers curling around the rat tails that trailed down Kaiser's back. "Don't start." His grip tightened, pulling him close. "You strut around the changing room like you're waiting for someone to do something about it." A pause, breath warm against Kaiser's ear. "So I did."
Kaiser almost laughed. Low and ragged, it rose in his chest and dissolved before it reached his mouth—because took you long enough to notice was right there, ready, the kind of line that would've cost him nothing. He swallowed it. His pride sat heavy on his sternum, and underneath it, quieter and less comfortable, was something that felt dangerously close to: did he deserve it?
"Choke me," Kaiser gasped instead, his voice breaking on the words as Isagi's cock drove deeper, the head grinding against his sweet spot with brutal precision.
Isagi's hand came up, fingers wrapping around Kaiser's throat from behind—firm grip, thumb pressing into the pulse point. He squeezed, cutting off just enough air to make Kaiser's vision blur, breaths coming in ragged bursts between thrusts. The pressure built, Isagi's cock pounding deeper, balls slapping against Kaiser's skin as he rutted into him.
"Yoichi. Harder," Kaiser demanded, voice hoarse. "Until I pass out. I'll sleep—fuck—so good, if you do."
The pressure deepened. Kaiser felt it in the edges of his vision first; a softening, the room losing its hard lines, and then in his chest, that strange arithmetic of rationed air, each breath becoming precious because it counted.
Biology doesn't lie. You couldn't perform wanting to live. Your body fights for the next breath, involuntarily, and his always did. Somehow, that was the only evidence he had of his humanity. The thrill of it filled his mind with sweet adrenaline, chasing consciousness as it melted at the seams, feeling his heart slamming against his ribs like it was trying to remind him it was there, that he was there—present, alive, wanted by his own body even when he wasn't sure if he was wanted by anyone, anything else.
(He'd never asked his dad for anything. Never wanted anything from him, once he'd understood that the only thing he wanted was something the man never had for him).
This feeling—being reduced to just the fight. The simplicity of it. You exist, because something is trying to unmake you and you are resisting. He'd spent months trying to locate that feeling somewhere else and hadn't been able to. Where do you get choked on a semi-regular occasion, when your own grip doesn't hit the spot anymore?
He was better under restriction. The feeling of being suffocated, the world pressing in around you—back to the wall of a cold Berlin alley, breath held, the police running past as they searched, back to the floor while his father's hands found him again. Maybe that was just where he functioned best. Maybe that was the only place he ever had, the only place he belonged.
It was then that Isagi leaned down, driving one more brutal thrust against Kaiser's prostate as he squeezed his throat with crushing finality. "Cum for me, you piece of shit."
Kaiser finally released onto the floor, his untouched cock spurting ropes of thick cum in erratic bursts, body convulsing wildly around Isagi's thrusting length.
He felt his consciousness slipping, and faded into the darkness still reaching, still wanting. This meant he was still alive, which meant, maybe, that he wanted to be.
Kaiser should've booked his own flight. He'd had the impulse and ignored it, agreed to the team's arrangements out of something that had felt like indifference at the time and now revealed itself, plainly, as a mistake. Stranded for a day longer in this godforsaken country with nowhere to be and nothing to do and exactly one person he was actively trying not to think about.
With his new salary confirmed, it wouldn't be unreasonable to just book his own flight. All he really needed was his ball and the clothes on his back—he'd done more with less. But all outgoing flights to Germany were fully booked at this point.
He could go sightseeing, now that the league was over and he had the time. But he already knew how it would go. He'd step outside and find Isagi in the shape of the streets somehow, in the signs he couldn't read, in the convenience stores and the vending machines and the particular way this country went about its mornings. He'd been here long enough to know that much.
That night, he'd come to in his own bed. Cold compress on his face, a tray of food and water on the nightstand (and his plug under the pillow). Ness had filled in the rest: Isagi had come knocking with Kaiser passed out on his back, and Ness had let him in with the spare key. Isagi had put him to bed, come back with food, and left. That was apparently it.
Isagi, off the pitch, was apparently well-liked. A decent person. Kaiser wouldn't know—it wasn't as though they'd ever had a proper conversation. It was no secret that Kaiser had been avoiding him.
A knock on the door. Ness. About time; Kaiser had texted him nearly thirty minutes ago to get some help with packing. He crossed the room and pulled the door open without looking up.
The height was wrong. He knew before he'd even fully registered it, some peripheral part of him doing the math before his eyes had caught up.
Isagi Yoichi stood in the doorway.
Kaiser shut the door.
Or tried to. Isagi's hand shot out and caught it, palm flat against the frame, and he held it open with a quiet, infuriating steadiness.
"I want to talk," Isagi said.
"I don't," Kaiser replied with a sneer.
"I know." Isagi didn't move. "You've been avoiding me."
"Wow, so your 'metavision' shit actually works outside of soccer?"
"How do you even—" Isagi started, then stopped. Decided, apparently, it wasn't worth the detour. "Nevermind. Let me in, Kaiser."
Kaiser did, earnestly, try to shut the door again—but he didn't expect that Isagi would tackle him. One moment the door was almost closed, the next Isagi's shoulder hit him square in the chest and they went down together, Kaiser's back meeting the floor with a thud that knocked the air clean out of him. Isagi landed half on top of him, their limbs a tangled, graceless mess, and for a moment neither of them moved.
Isagi was warm. That was the first coherent thought that made it through—unreasonably, inconveniently warm, his weight settled against Kaiser's chest, face somewhere near his shoulder. The faint mintiness of his hair. Kaiser was acutely, unhelpfully aware of every point of contact between them, which was most of them. He was also aware, distantly, of his own racing pulse.
Isagi stood up slowly, closing the door behind him. Kaiser stayed where he was a beat longer than necessary. Long enough to notice, when his eyes tracked upward, the obvious strain in Isagi's pants. The fabric was pulled tight over a growing bulge that he couldn't tear his eyes away from now that he'd seen it.
"You're such a fucking pervert," Kaiser said, something sharp and satisfied in his voice. "Did you really get hard just from that?"
Isagi looked at him for a moment. Then his eyes dropped, deliberately, and back up. "Says you."
Kaiser said nothing. He looked at him instead—really looked, the way he hadn't been able to in the sauna, face pressed down and blind in the steam. Now he could see all of him. Isagi stared back with those dark eyes that went straight through him; desire and hatred and everything else, all of it aimed directly at him. Kaiser would take anything. He couldn't look away.
Isagi stepped closer, sensing the crack in his demeanor. "You should kneel properly to me, Kaiser."
The words hit like a slap, igniting a furious blaze in Kaiser's chest. He hated it—hated the idea of submitting to Isagi Yoichi. But beneath the rage, a forbidden thrill stirred, one he'd buried deep in late-night fantasies. Kneeling before Isagi, those piercing eyes boring down... wrapping his lips around his cock, tasting the salt of his skin, choking on it as Isagi gripped his hair and fucked his mouth raw. The image flashed vivid and unbidden, making Kaiser's dick throb painfully.
"You want this," Isagi said, his voice low and smug as he unbuttoned his fly. The zipper rasped down, and his half-hard cock sprang free, bobbing heavily in the air. He could see it properly this time; it was thicker than Kaiser had imagined, veins tracing along the length, the head already flushing pink. It was long enough to hit deep, curved just right—perfect, goddamn it.
Yes, he wanted it. If this was going to be the last time, with oceans and time zones ripping them apart soon, then fuck it, he wanted to devour every inch.
Kaiser didn't wait for an invitation. He surged forward on his knees, wrapping one hand around the base to steady it while his lips parted. He took Isagi in deep from the start, tongue flattening against the underside. The taste exploded on his tongue—salty skin, that underlying mint from Isagi's soap. Kaiser bobbed his head steadily, taking more with each pass, his free hand gripping Isagi's thigh for leverage.
"Fuck, you're so easy," Isagi groaned, threading fingers into Kaiser's hair and tugging just enough to sting. "You love sucking my cock."
The words hit like sparks, and infuriatingly, he knew it was true. He swirled his tongue over the slit to lap up more precum, the musky tang sending his mind alight. His own cock swelled painfully in his shorts.
When Isagi's hips jerked forward involuntarily, fucking into his throat, Kaiser took it all, never gagging once, not wasting an inch. Isagi's breaths turned ragged, the grip in his hair tightening. Kaiser felt the telltale swell, the pulse quickening under his tongue—Isagi was close, so close. But just as the first spurt threatened to spill, Isagi yanked back, pulling his cock free with a wet pop.
Kaiser blinked up at him, lips swollen and shiny. Before he could speak, Isagi hauled him up by the arm and shoved him onto the nearby mattress. Kaiser landed on his back, the soft surface giving under him, his heart pounding wildly.
"What are you doing?" Kaiser snapped, propping himself on his elbows, confusion twisting his features. "I'll blow you, but that's it. Then you leave."
Isagi raised a brow, smirking as he kicked off his pants fully and climbed onto the bed, caging Kaiser in with his body. "No. I'm gonna fuck you. Properly."
Kaiser's protest died in his throat as Isagi's hands were on him, yanking at his shirt and pants with efficient urgency, then at his own. Clothes hit the floor in a heap, and soon Kaiser was bare, his cock hard and leaking against his stomach. Isagi didn't waste time—he nipped lightly at Kaiser's chest, swirling his tongue around the nipple before sinking lower.
"The lube's on the nightstand," Kaiser volunteered breathily.
Isagi nodded, reaching over for the bottle and slicking his fingers generously. He circled the rim teasingly before pushing in slow, crooking it to brush that spot inside that made Kaiser's vision blur. "Relax," Isagi murmured, adding a second finger and scissoring them apart, stretching him methodically. His tongue darted out to lap at Kaiser's aching tip, then lower, rimming the stretched hole around his fingers. The dual sensation—wet heat and probing digits—had Kaiser gripping the sheets, thighs trembling.
"Hurry the fuck up, Yoichi," Kaiser growled through gritted teeth, hips bucking despite himself. The prep was thorough, almost too much, Isagi's fingers thrusting deep and curling relentlessly.
Isagi chuckled against his skin, the vibration sending a shudder through his body. He withdrew his fingers only to replace them with the blunt head of his cock, pressing in inch by inch. "I want you to feel good too."
Kaiser barked a laugh, half-moan, finding the sentiment utterly ridiculous amid the burn of being filled. "Feel good? You're delusional," he bit out, but his body betrayed him, legs wrapping around Isagi's waist to pull him deeper. Isagi bottomed out with a groan, pausing to let Kaiser adjust before starting a steady rhythm—long, deliberate thrusts that dragged over every nerve.
"I came to check on you," Isagi said, voice rough but steady, like it was the most normal thing in the world. Like he wasn't balls-deep inside him, buried to the hilt in tight heat.
Kaiser clenched around him involuntarily, the words pulling a scoff from his throat even as pleasure coiled tighter in his gut. "Clearly, I'm fine," he shot back, forcing his tone even. "You carried me back, very heroic, very you, and now you're obsessed with me."
Isagi's pace didn't falter, his cock plunging in with a wet smack, balls slapping against Kaiser's ass. He hummed low in his throat, the sound vibrating through their joined bodies. "Right."
The rhythm built, Isagi's thrusts turning harder, more insistent, hitting that spot inside that made Kaiser's toes curl. He gripped Isagi's shoulders, nails digging in, fighting the urge to beg for more even as his hips rocked up to meet each drive. "And you should leave me alone," Kaiser added, his voice cracking at the end, fraying under the onslaught of sensation.
"And why's that?" Isagi asked.
Because I'm better under restriction, Kaiser thought, the words echoing in his mind like a mantra as Isagi fucked into him relentlessly. Because I understand hate and I don't understand love. Because when you look at me like that, like I'm something worth the effort, I can feel my malice going quiet, and you scored the winning goal. Because if I let myself fall into this I will fall completely. I can't—
"Because you're average at best," Kaiser said, the lie tasting bitter even as his body arched into the next thrust. "I don't know why everyone makes such a fuss. And you're short."
Isagi stilled for a beat, buried fully inside him, his dark eyes locking onto Kaiser's with an intensity that cut through the haze. He looked at him for a long moment, chest heaving, cock twitching in the vise of Kaiser's walls.
"Of course, Kaiser," Isagi murmured, then his lips quirked into a mocking grin, even as he resumed thrusting—slower now, teasing drags that made Kaiser whine despite himself. "But I guess average works just fine for you, huh? You're still taking my cock like you need it."
The irony burned, twisting with the pleasure as Isagi picked up speed again, pounding in with purpose, his free hand wrapping around Kaiser's leaking cock and stroking in time with his hips. Kaiser's retorts died on his tongue, reduced to gasps and curses, his body wound tight as a spring.
Choke me. The words were already at the tip of his tongue. Until everything is quiet. Yoichi. Yoichi—can you—
"Can I kiss you?" Isagi leaned down then, his breath hot against Kaiser's lips, their faces inches apart amid the slick sounds of skin on skin. His voice was soft, eyes searching Kaiser's.
Kaiser froze, shock rippling through him even as Isagi's cock thrust deep once more. Fuck, do you even need to ask? He should've said no. But yes—god, yes. He nodded jerkily, pulling Isagi down by the back of his neck.
Their mouths crashed together, messy and desperate, tongues tangling as Isagi fucked him harder, the kiss swallowing Kaiser's moans. Teeth nipped at lips, breaths shared in hot pants, and it was too much—the slide of Isagi's tongue mirroring the plunge of his cock, the hand jerking him off tightening just right.
Kaiser's orgasm hit like a wave, ripping through him; he came with a muffled cry into Isagi's mouth, stripes of cum splattering across his own stomach and chest. Hate was good, maybe love was better.
Isagi groaned into the kiss, thrusting through the spasms a few more times before pulling out abruptly. He fisted his slick cock, pumping fast as he hovered over Kaiser, and came with a low curse—hot ropes landing on Kaiser's skin, mixing with his own release, marking his abs in sticky warmth.
They broke apart, panting, Isagi collapsing half on top of him, both slick and spent. The room smelled of sex and sweat. Kaiser turned his head, hoping to see his face, hoping to see something, but Isagi was buried dead in his neck.
This was the part he didn't want to deal with (it was easier when he'd passed out). The part after, when there was nothing left to do or want or fight toward, and the silence settled in with nowhere to be. He was usually gone by now. Or whoever else it was would be making their way out. Either way, this—lying here, Isagi's pulse against his throat, his weight across Kaiser's chest like he intended to stay—maybe he should stay forever—
"Off, you clown," Kaiser nudged, rolling Isagi over.
Isagi grunted, low in his throat. "Can't you just enjoy an afterglow for five seconds?"
"I have to pack," Kaiser replied.
"I can help," Isagi said, already standing, already gathering Kaiser's clothes—before his own, naturally, which Kaiser chose not to examine too closely.
Isagi grabbed the tissue box on his desk, and Kaiser said nothing. Didn't move. Just watched through half-lidded eyes as Isagi cleaned him up with the same matter-of-fact ease he seemed to bring to everything, unhurried, unbothered—like this was just a thing people did for each other. Like it was nothing.
"I don't need your help."
"Why not?"
"I'm just a piece of shit, right? Here to drain your balls," Kaiser said, like he was commenting on the weather. "If we're ever in the same city, I guess you can text me."
He reached for the pen and notepad next to his bed, scribbling down his digits messily. Maybe if it was messy enough, Isagi wouldn't be able to read them—and that would be a sign, wouldn't it. That he was truly fated to be alone, because nobody else would do anymore. Only Yoichi.
Isagi went quiet for a moment, grabbing the piece of paper from him. "I wasn't really serious about that, by the way. I just... figured you liked it."
Whether he liked it or not wasn't relevant. It was familiar—familiar in a way that mattered. His dad had never been kind, generous, or gentle. The shape of hostility fit somewhere neatly inside him, a place where gentler things never quite reached.
Sex was simple. Primitive. He'd grown up and figured out that he was something people wanted, and that desire—when it was aimed at him—filled something in. It was almost the love he'd yearned for. Close enough to mistake for the real thing in the dark. As a bonus, sex asked nothing of him. People wanted him for their own selfish pleasures, and that was the whole of it. No tenderness required, no learning how to receive it.
"Sure," was what Kaiser settled for.
Isagi paused. "I was surprised about the rumors, but they don't bother me."
Kaiser hummed faintly. "Go on."
"Well." Isagi scratched the back of his neck. "Sae, for one—which Rin wasn't exactly thrilled about, considering you slept with him and then his boyfriend behind his back." A short laugh, more air than sound. "And then Chigiri, once you got here. You know he's not in the best place right now after everything that happened with Kunigami."
Kaiser looked at him for a moment. Then he almost smiled.
"That's it? You really are clueless, Yoichi."
"Shut up," Isagi said, with a begrudging sigh, pulling on his final article of clothing. "I don't need more information, honestly."
"And it doesn't bother you? I hear you're quite close with that redhead," Kaiser said with a drawl. "What happened to all that spine?"
"I guess it's expected," Isagi muttered, "when you look like that."
Right. Blonde, six foot something, tattooed. Kaiser knew what he looked like—had been told often enough, murmured in various beds and darkened rooms. But Isagi Yoichi looking at him like that, finding something worth seeing—that was different. If someone like Isagi could see it, then maybe he could too.
Kaiser's eyes gleamed. "Look like what, exactly?"
Isagi's jaw tightened. He didn't answer.
"Punched a bit above your weight class, didn't you." It wasn't a question. Kaiser looked insufferably pleased with himself. "Go on. You can say it."
"Whatever." Isagi yanked his jacket on. "When's your flight?"
"Tomorrow."
Isagi paused. "My parents are picking me up from the facility tonight. You may as well get a ride into the city."
Kaiser raised an eyebrow. "You want me to meet your parents?"
"It's a car ride—"
"Yoichi." Kaiser's voice was warm with amusement.
"Oh my god," Isagi groaned. "Just hurry up and finish packing your bag, or I'll leave without you."