Archive of Our Own

Warm-colored candles, mood lighting, glittering lights hanging overhead.

Faint, ambient music playing from somewhere in the restaurant…

At the center of it, or really—nearer the back, sit two men: an orca, and a sperm whale.

An strange couple.
It almost sounds like the start to a joke, and to Idate, it is a joke: a bad one.
(Not that Idate’s are any better.)

And the restaurant is nearly empty this evening. Like he planned this. His ‘perfect date.’

Idate’s familiar smirk is gone: a frown is set in its place. He hopes Gris can see just how annoyed he is. His arms are crossed over his chest. Usually he's relaxed, but now? Not at all, thanks to the man sitting across from him.

“Order anything you like.”

He says with a pleasant smile, the man. He puts down his menu, and rests his chin on his hands, looking at Idate with nothing but love. He's the most interesting thing in the room to Gris.

Idate’s frown deepens.

If he wouldn’t rather stare into the lights until he can’t see, he might say Gris looks nice.
Long, perfect hair draping over his shoulders in that dark suit; silvery, almost lilac under the chandelier’s sickly glow. Perfectly generous, patiently waiting with bated breath for the word (from his cornered prey.)

Aside from the fact Idate’s here against his will, he can’t complain.

This isn't how he expected his valentine's would go. He'd been thinking of spending it with someone he actually gave a shit about, like Rocma. Not this creepy, relentless freak…

Damn it, this is so humiliating..

-

A date, he said.

Idate had quickly realized what a turn his day would take when he first saw Gris that morning. He’d been early enough that Idate didn’t get a chance to avoid him.

“A date? With you?” He had responded dryly, eyeing the taller man with clear disinterest.

…Maybe Idate had made some mistakes to end up here. His first, that might’ve been not taking Gris seriously. Can you blame him? He showed up out of the blue—not asking, demanding to take Idate out.

Gris put himself in Idate’s way, blocking out his view of the iceberg. Oh yeah, it was that moment that he’d known his valentine’s day would be a disaster.

That whale knew just how to rub him the wrong way…

“That’s right.” Gris had said, clear and smooth as the icy water. No matter how nicely he said it, an abduction was still just that. He’d smiled through Idate’s cigarette smoke, down at Idate, hands held hopefully at his chest.

Of course, Gris would be more affectionate if Idate gave him the chance. And Gris knew he would. If he stayed patient, he could get his hands on Idate as soon as tonight.

Idate’s reluctance—his disgust, didn’t phase him. Great things never came easily. When he fell, Idate’s submission would be all the sweeter. And it would be Gris’s alone.

Gris wouldn’t do this if he didn’t love him. Sometimes Idate was too proud to see what was really good for him.

“What do you say?”

He’d extended his gloved hand how any gentleman would, and Idate looked at it. He then looked back at Gris, and laughed.

“No.”

At that, the whale had smiled, looking at Idate from the shadow cast by his bangs. A fond, confident gaze. He had placed a hand beside Idate’s head, leaning in and forcing Idate’s back to meet the cold wall of the mountain. Grey hair curtained him then, the aroma of Gris’s perfume replacing the scent of cigarettes. So unlike each other, the two collided. Idate had looked away to hide the pink in his cheeks.

“I'll see you tonight.”

The choice had been made for him before Gris darkened the orca’s doorstep. Asking was nothing but a courtesy.

Idate knew, as sure as the feeling of dread in his stomach, who was in control.

-

Back at the restaurant, Gris finally reacts to the blatant displeasure pouring from Idate in waves. He frees up one hand to reach across the table and place it over Idate’s, the fine fabric of their gloves meeting. Gris sighs with disappointment, soothing Idate with a brush of his thumb.

“Are you going to stop pouting and talk to me anytime soon, my dear?”

Idate pulls his hand away abruptly, and Gris nearly gives him a frown to Idate’s bitter sneer.

“What’s there to say? Thanks for dragging me here, go ahead and have your way with me?”

Idate scoffs, turning his head. He needs a cigarette. Putting one leg over the other, by the way Gris is looking at him (lovingly exasperated), he can tell he’s being dramatic. But he’s pissed, and in Idate’s mind, he has every right to be.

He doesn’t have to make this easy for Gris.
Neither man here is helpless, but he’ll let Idate play the part. It’s not his usual act.

But that’s okay, because Gris loves all of him, even the worst parts. And with Idate, the worst of him is abundant.

Gris sits back, smiling at him again. “I bought you dinner, didn’t I?” He tried to, anyway.

The longer this drags on, Idate’s discomfort eases. Letting Gris buy him a drink helped. And that's scary, for Idate…Because if he likes this—if he likes this, he’s gonna have to come to terms with something uncomfortable. Like, maybe he doesn’t have to be dominant all the time, maybe…He trusts Gris to take care of him. Feeling scared of anything is the last thing Idate likes doing. He can always drink more when he starts thinking too much.

There is one other thing that takes it off his mind. The very thing that could get him in deeper shit.

Idate has a contemplative look on his face when he settles down, and Gris’s smile becomes almost sympathetic. He sighs, and this time, when Gris reaches for his hand, Idate gives it. He doesn’t stop pouting.

“Forget it. Come home with me now,” Gris says, softening his charming smile. That’s the first time Idate’s felt outclassed, but Gris has a way of beating him at his own game. “If you want to.”

(Only as he wants to.)

Idate meets his eyes after a beat. He’d rather not want to—but he knows himself.

“Yeah..” He mutters, resigned, and Gris brightens.

“Perfect.” Gris’s resounding purr sounds more sincere, almost...Relieved that Idate’s letting him in.

-

Under the night sky, Idate ends up joining Gris for the night. He didn’t think he’d ever end up entertaining his pest like this, but he’ll give Gris a chance. Gris, well, he’s not planning on wasting it. He’s going to leave Idate with a memory, no matter what his beloved chooses.

Idate ends up under Gris; laid on his back, pinned by the other’s hands at both sides. He’s looking up at him, but this time, it’s different…There’s nothing but moonlight. His hands tremble as they hold onto Gris’s shoulders, half of their clothes lying discarded on the floor. When Idate’s lips part, all that comes out is soft panting. He’s suffused by heat—the embarrassed heat of his surrender, inflaming his blood. The heat of Gris’s hands, spreading his thighs, his hips—rocking back and forth. Gris doesn’t seem to break a sweat, to ever lose his composure.

The heat of Gris slipping in and out of him. Idate knows how wet he is, it’s more than he should be. It doesn’t mean anything, it’s just sex. Gris says nothing about it. He smiles, self-satisfied and adoring all at once, and pulls back. He pushes himself deep into Idate, holding the orca’s hips tightly—without bruising, and says something worse.

“You look beautiful like this.”

Idate arches, more from Gris slamming into him. It’s the words that make him press his flushed face into the pillow. Gris isn’t sweating, but he is. Dripping on the sheets, too, as if he hasn’t been debased enough. And this is when Gris thinks he looks his best? When Idate doesn’t even want to see himself?

“Shut up, please shut up.” He says, somewhere between a growl and a groan.

“Ah-” Idate’s eyes widen briefly, gasping when Gris turns him over and pulls Idate back against himself, finding his place within Idate’s drooling sex again. Their hips, connected. Idate’s chest against the bed. He lays his back over Idate’s, and claims him deep, so deep Idate can feel it in his stomach. Idate blinks, and he’ll tell himself his eyes don’t feel wet at all.

Gris’s hips hit him harder, and Idate is more wrecked than he would be if Gris just beat him. Idate’s lips remain parted around breathy little noises, while Gris takes everything he’s got.

“Mff..” He presses his face into the pillow, and Gris allows it. Running his fingers through the back of Idate’s hair, gentle while his pounding is merciless. “Mnh..”

Idate’s things tense, and Gris seems all too pleased by his tightening up. His thrusts quicken, become more forceful. Idate’s back bends beneath him, and he comes with a sharp gasp. Then, regretfully, a moan that’s all pleasure. He allows himself to be held down, for one night. Gris comes inside, and keeps him possessively close.

In the morning, Idate can feel pathetic about it.

But he can’t say Gris didn’t show him a good time.