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"Careful, Zanka."
The words contradict the meaning when Zanka can feel his back hit the wall rather hard. His Assistaff slings behind only add to the impact.
"People may start to think, you're here to whore yourself."
The words contradict the meaning, when Enjin runs his hand over Zanka's jaw with such gentleness, almost like he's caressing him.
Like, he is someone to cherish.
"Enjoy yourself back there?" Enjin tips his chin, and Zanka refuses to look away even if his sight is slightly unfocused. "Can't barely look at me in the eyes and you're acting like you have all of your composure,"
Enjin grits his teeth and Zanka finds himself mesmerized by the row of white, stark against the darkness of the place they are in. Zanka matches him, unconsciously, showing all of his teeth.
"You think, this is funny?" Enjin growls lowly. "You're enjoying this?"
Zanka has tried to make Enjin lose his temper for days, for weeks, for months.
Despite the possessiveness, the man has never shown any actual rage as the product of his jealousy. And Zanka knows, Enjin is the most jealous man he knows.
If he says that out loud, that man probably will frown and asks back, you know any other men?
Or it should be.
Except, Enjin always keeps himself in check, just quietly showing people that Zanka is his.
Zanka likes it, he really does!
But after hearing the story from Follo about how Gris goes berserk just because someone dares to touch him, Zanka wants that level of rage from Enjin too.
And what's the best place to get a man all worked up, if it isn't the bar?
Full of rowdy and handsy people?
The idea of people touching him is very revolting, but the prospect of Enjin actually shows his true color and claims his stake in public—damn, if it doesn't get him excited.
And he starts by drinking.
In Enjin's supervision, of course.
Except, Zanka is the one who knows his own alcohol tolerance. And he knows, he has pretended to be sober to avoid getting scolded for drinking too much.
With the liquid courage, Zanka feels like he can do anything, including but not limited to test Enjin's patience.
Who would have known that in a place like this, one shake of his hips and drunken wink could get him very far?
"You never act jealous," Zanka mumbles. "Of course, I enjoy watching you punching that guy for touching me."
Enjin grabbed his chin even firmer.
"Mine," he corrects, emphasizing. "That douchebag touches what's mine."
Zanka chooses to be little shit and rile him up even further.
"You sure don't show it enough," he challenges.
The moment those words come out of his mouth, Zanka realizes he may have made the worst mistake of his life.
Enjin pushes him to the wall even harder.
"Pray tell, the great Zanka Nijiku," he starts, his voice dangerously low. "How should I show it."
Except, Enjin doesn't ask.
Except, Enjin doesn't require answers.
Because it isn't even a question in the first place.
"Should I mark you here?" He whispers, before he leans forwards and aims for Zanka's neck. The sudden grasp of teeth over the skin jolts him in surprise.
"Or should I mark you somewhere else?" Enjin continues, his hand pins both of Zanka's arms above his head.
He trails kisses on Zanka's jaw, before he captures his lips in a violent kiss—clashing teeth, intertwining tongues, drooling saliva here and there.
Enjin tastes like cigarettes and alcohol; a perfect mix of jealousy and possessiveness. Zanka can't get enough, even if he starts tasting the blood spice their kisses.
"I can fuck you stupid in this dirty alley, Zanzan."
The words contradict the meaning when Zanka whispers the words with such gentleness as he rides down from the kisses.
"Got you limp enough, so anyone knows who you belong to."
The words contradict the meaning when Enjin then trails kisses alongside Zanka's neck and jaw.
So tender.
"Do it," Zanka doesn't want Enjin to be a contradiction.
Zanka wants him to live up to his words and ruins him.
"Do it, Enjin," he challenges once again, before he settles to demeaning smirk. "Or are you scared?"
Scared of what, Zanka doesn't even know. The idea of Enjin getting scared is almost laughable.
Even back then, he doesn't know what Enjin is scared of.
Doesn't even know if Enjin is capable of being scared.
"Careful, Zanka," Enjin drops the nickname.
Zanka chuckles, mockingly.
"Careful, Enjin," he repeats. "Someone might see me and think, I wasn't wanted enough."
He's pressed even harder. Zanka can feel something slotting itself between his thighs.
This is it. The last strike.
"Oh, I can show them, that's definitely not the case."
And for once, Enjin doesn't contradict himself.