Conquering the Great King

Chapter 1 Pompous Kong

Iwaizumi had been watching him for awhile now.

It was usually Thursdays and Fridays that he would make his appearance. His blaring presence was almost too much for the dimly lit bar. Whenever he walked in-- hell, whenever he walked to the back to use the bathroom-- he cut through the lazy curls of smoke and bad orange lighting like he couldn't be bothered to be weighed down by the atmosphere. The smoke and shadows practically parted before him, accentuating his overly bright smile and grossly good posture like he was fucking Moses of the shanty bar scene.

Iwaizumi was in a small corner booth by himself, like he liked it. With the knot of his tie slid down, a whiskey in front of him, and a cigarette to his lips he could finally start to unwind from the grueling work week.

He brought his cigarette to his lips and inhaled deeply, feeling the burn and sting rush down his throat and flood his lungs. He sighed the smoke out through his nose, peering through the shifting veil of gray at the obnoxious kid sitting at the bar.

Iwaizumi thought "kid", but in all truth they probably weren't too far off in age. There was just something about him... something that screamed "spoiled brat" or "obnoxious tool" that made Iwaizumi feel like he would need to treat him like a child.

Iwaizumi watched as he spoke to another man at the bar. A little older, handsome, well put together. The kid had tendency to squeeze his eyes together when he laughed, to touch shoulders and tip the liquid around his glass as others spoke.

His laugh was a semi-high trill, tumbling from his throat as pompous as that grin would have you believe. His voice rose and dipped, ranging from a childish whine to a smooth purr. When he smiled or made eyes at someone he was obviously gorgeous, but he also obviously knew it.

He was leaning over, whispering. Strong and cut shoulders moving beneath a crisp button down, lips shooing breath over the other man's ear. Then he smirked, pulled back, pushed his barstool with the back of his knees.

Iwaizumi's eyes fell from his shoulders, moved all the way down his body. He was fit and he held his body like he understood exactly how it worked. His legs were long and his height was nothing to scoff at. The way he tilted his chin gave one the impression he was used to looking down at people.

He was turning to use the bathroom, presumably before he went home with Suit Number Four. His milk chocolate eyes grazed over Iwaizumi as he turned, lightly pausing on Iwaizumi's face. Iwaizumi returned the look with the most uninterested blink possible.

The kid flicked his head slightly, a motion that became a subconscious habit to those with hair that fell in their eyes. The perfection of each tuft of hair made Iwaizumi want to reach out and pull on it. Just yank it hard enough for him to fall over.

Iwaizumi took a sip of his whiskey.

Sure, the guy was gorgeous-- Iwaizumi's eyes followed him without Iwaizumi really taking notice-- but Iwaizumi just didn't have the patience to deal with a self righteous prick, even for sex.

The kid returned, scooping up his coat and motioning to his businessman, and they left.

Iwaizumi watched him leave, huffing on his cigarette.

Even if he really wanted to see those shoulders, bare.

#

Iwaizumi didn't see him again for a week. He fell into his regular booth, bad red patent leather squeaking beneath him as stagnate smoke swirled into frustrated motion when he moved.