Tobirama:

I couldn't stop thinking about him.

There was something about him...

Cocky, but underneath that surface lay something else.

Something soft.

I couldn't stop thinking about him.

My sheets were covered in cum. 

Izuna:

I phoned Emil at three am after having bought a glass of the same red wine the albino drank for myself and leaving the club.

The cost of it had been astronomical, but I didn't care.

"Hello?" he said groggily into his phone.

"Sorry I woke you up."

"It doesn't matter if it's you", he said warmly. "Izuna, are you drunk?"

"Very."

"You... You want to come over?"

"I need to come over."

"Izuna..."

"Just shut up and fuck me, Emil. I'm horny."

Another week passed with a lot of intel gathering and investigation. I was less tired this week, and also extremely satisfied by the knowledge that I was, in fact, extremely good at my job. I didn't interact much with the others, but ever since I had pushed the bun-man into the wall, they'd started treating me with more respect. Or at least left me alone.

Emil was friendly and kind, and things never became awkward between us since that night. I had slept until noon at his place and had breakfast with him before heading home to go to the gym and then have a shower, but we didn't mention it at work. He was a good supervisor, skilled and efficient and down-to-earth.

And all week, I couldn't stop thinking about him. I had no idea what his name was, even. How old was he? Older than me, for sure, but by how much? I tried Googling who the owner of Sticky Fingers was, but to no avail. The only shot I had seeing him again seemed to be going back next Friday.

Which made the week pass excruciatingly slowly.

Friday night came, and I was far better off than last Friday, when I'd been exhausted. Seemed I had gotten at least somewhat used to my new job. My entire being was, however, trembling with anticipation to meet him again. I put on oversized black trousers and a long; navy-blue shirt and put my hair up with a hairclip. I put on some sparkling powder and a dark blue, glittery eyeshadow and left. I took the subway to the city centre and had to really put strain on myself to not start running. Calm down... Calm down...

I wasn't really in the mood for drinking, and my blood was fizzing with excitement of meeting him sober. How would I act? Would he still find me attractive?  Would he still kiss me the way he did last time? I shivered and moaned a little as I was hurrying in the darkness and the city lights when I thought about the way he'd kissed me, our tongues gently wrestling outside of our lips, our groins pressed together, the taste of alcohol spreading between us. It had been the most exotic moment of my life.

I checked the time. Eleven pm. An hour later than last week. Would he still be waiting?

I entered the skyscraper and waited for the elevator. I stepped in together with two other couples, who cast me curious glances. I didn't blame them; it happened when people tried to discern whether I was male or female. I barely noticed, especially not now when I was stomping in place trying to make the elevator hurry up. I pressed the button of the floor of Sticky Fingers over and over, causing the other four people to cast me irritated glances.

"That's not going to make the elevator move any faster, sweetheart", one of them said bemusedly.

I hated being called sweetheart. Or, perhaps not if he...

"Oh, I know, Sir", I said with a mock sweet voice. "It's just that it calms me down because I'm trying to get a huge albino man I saw last week to shove his dick into me." I giggled sweetly.

That shut them up.

The elevator door opened, and I was immediately struck by the pulsing lights, the massive amounts of bodies, the loud music. God, I loved this. I loved the atmosphere, and the anticipation. I climbed up the stairs, two steps at a time, to the third floor, and looked at the booth where he'd been sitting last week.

It was empty.

What?

The thought that he might not be here had struck me, but more as mind-play. Of course he would be here, really.

Turned out, he wasn't.

I went to the bar, where the same brunette as last time was standing. "Welcome back", he said with a smirk.

"Could I please have the same red wine as last time?"

"The same one the albino drank?"

"Yep."

"You came looking for him?"

"It's that obvious." It was a statement, not a question.

"It is." He took a wine glass from the ceiling rack, cleaned it and poured. I sipped. I didn't like wine, but if I had, I believed I would've found this particular one delicious.

"You know his name?" I asked.

"No-one does."

"He said he owns the place. Is that true?"

"It is", the bartender said, leaning against the desk. "And I wouldn't hold my breath if I were you."

I cast him a curious glance. "What do you mean?"

"I've worked here for three years. And I've seen him only four times."

My heart sank to the floor. I had really, really liked him.

"What does he usually do here?"

"Nothing much. Orders a glass of wine. Sits in the exact same booth ever time. Not watching anyone." He gave me a meaningful glance. "Last time was the only time I've seen him make a move on someone."

"Hey! I made a move on him!"

"And you did well. You were making out for a full hour. It was like watching a porno."

I looked away and blushed a little. "I'm sorry."

He laughed. "Don't worry kid! I'm straight, so it didn't bother me that much."

I went and sat at the booth where he'd been last week, touching the velvety fabric. Would I ever see him again? I doubted it.

I stayed for a good two hours, fiddling with my phone, drinking my glass of wine, watching people.

Then, I gave up and left for home.