This story is rated NC-17 for explicit sexual content. Please go here for the disclaimer and additional information.
by Sylvia
"You can't. I – you're not serious!"
Kitagawa fixes Ryo with his darkest, most no-nonsense glare, which (as general consensus at the station holds) makes him look like an evil gnome. "Oh, yeah, like I'm the comedian around here, Nishikido. This is a simple first contact. Too *hard* for you, Detective? Or are you still sulking?"
Sulking? What the fuck, he hasn't been sulking! What did they expect Ryo to do, dance in the streets?
But of course the words won't come, ideas and emotion clogging in his throat and turning into nothing but individual words forced out almost at random. "You. This isn't what, you can't expect me to –"
"I expect you to do your job. Right now that means I expect you to scope out and infiltrate a location the Sugiura Ikka is using for money-laundering and gods know what else, keep an eye out for persons of interest, and try to get a foot in the door for further investigation. Too much to ask?"
It's not that. It's not the assignment at all – Ryo's done this kind of work before, lots of times.
Well. Not quite this kind of work.
Okay, fine, so Ryo's not exactly comfortable with the assignment, either. But fuck it, undercover work is his specialty, and he's good at it, and it's *not* that, not really. So what if this is a little out of the usual line. Ryo can deal. Seriously.
It's that he's expected to simply pick up and go on and pretend nothing ever happened, that he's expected to work with someone else now, that he...
Superintendent Kitagawa watches him choke on words for a moment longer and then grimaces, impatience sitting on his wrinkled evil-gnome face like disgust. "He's a good cop, Nishikido. You need a partner, and so does he. You're going to do this together, and you're going to do it well. You hear me?"
Oh, Ryo hears him, alright. He heard him just fine the first time. He still can't believe his ears, though, because he does not need a partner – he already has one, so what the fuck kind of bad joke is this, anyway?
But Kitagawa picks up a file from the side of his desk and starts reading ostentatiously. "Report to Lieutenant Nakamaru, Detective." Meaning: dismissed.
Fuck.
Taguchi's waiting in front of Kitagawa's office, folded into one of the visitors' chairs. Ryo doesn't slow down, just glares at the man as he strides by. He really wants to go for a run, or punch someone, or tell fucking Kitagawa where to stick this fucking assignment.
By the time Taguchi has unfolded and caught up with him, Ryo's already halfway down the corridor to the research and requisitions department.
"Told you he wouldn't budge." Yeah, fuck you too, Taguchi. "When I asked, he said we were the only ones suited for this assignment, and then he sniggered in this weird way and asked if I didn't think we'd be *up* to it, and I thought I'd probably better not ask just what he thought qualified us in particular."
Up to it?
That knocks Ryo's thoughts sideways. He can't help but remember the peculiar emphasis the Superintendent had used when he'd suggested the job might be too hard for Ryo. Had that been some kind of... innuendo...?
He grimaces and speeds his pace even further. Wondering whether or not Kitagawa is making dirty jokes at his expense is right up in the top twenty of Ryo's internal list of Things He Doesn't Want to Even Think About, not all that far behind "going undercover in a gay BDSM club run by the mob".
"…anyway, it's, uh, unexpected, but it's alright, isn't it?"
Ryo glances over, and Taguchi's smiling at him, all sunny and friendly and brainless. It's unnatural to be that cheerful. Not to mention annoying. Maybe Ryo should have narcotics set up a surprise drug test.
"The Sugiura Ikka seems to be pushing for more territory lately, and by all reports the Ragaraja is an actual hang-out, so if we can establish ourselves there it'll be a huge asset for the Inagawa-kai investigation as a whole. And of course, it's really a compliment that Superintendent Kitagawa's entrusting bla bla blablabla."
Going undercover in a gay BDSM club run by the mob with Taguchi. That bumps it right up to the top of Ryo's all-time hit list of Things He Tries Really Fucking Hard Not to Think About, leaving it in third place, right behind "high likelihood of dying alone and unmourned". (And Ryo's absolutely not thinking about first place; that would be disloyal because it was only a split-second judgement call that went the wrong way. Sometimes they do, that's inevitable, unavoidable. And if Uchi had had a glass of beer with lunch then so fucking what.)
Ryo hasn't worked with Taguchi before. The man transferred here from Yokohama a couple of months ago and has been working solo or as an extra with some of the others ever since. Ryo hadn't really had a chance to form an opinion on him before the thing with Uchi happened. And then Ryo took three weeks of paid leave, and when those were over Uchi still hadn't been unsuspended, and one week of unpaid leave later Kitagawa called and told Ryo that if he didn't come back now, he shouldn't bother coming again ever. And that had only been a few days ago.
If Kitagawa says Taguchi's a good cop, then he's a good cop. Kitagawa doesn't make that kind of judgement lightly – Ryo knows how much his approbation means. That's not the issue. It's just...
Fuck. Ryo wishes Uchi would hurry up and get back to work.
"Bla, blabla. Nakamaru-san, good morning! How's your wife?"
Fine, as it turns out. Ryo hadn't actually needed to know how her appendectomy scar is developing, and certainly not in quite such excruciating detail, but then that's research and requisitions specialist Nakamaru for you.
Trying to interrupt or hurry the man along only prolongs the agony, as Ryo knows from painful experience. Besides, Taguchi seems genuinely interested, the weirdo, nodding and making inquiring noises and silly jokes at random intervals. So Ryo leans onto the counter that separates the room's visitors' area from equipment storage and the archives, and simply waits. If he drums his fingers on the counter while he does, well. Who can blame him?
At length, Nakamaru finishes his dissertation on scar tissue, various creams, and the impact of an abdominal scar on the self-esteem and sex drive of a thirty-something woman with two kids and a cat. He bends down to reach into one of the cubicles built into his side of the counter and proceeds to arrange two meter-high stacks of fat, ring-bound volumes in front of Ryo and Taguchi. 'Briefings', Nakamaru style.
Nakamaru then spends five minutes or so eyeing them both up and down and up again, an absolutely neutral look on his face.
Sometimes Ryo thinks Nakamaru makes a point of being particularly aggravating when it's least bearable – like now. But Nakamaru's immune to not-so-subtle hints like pointed glares and raised eyebrows. Always has been.
"Well, you're taller, and I would prefer to go with the obvious as much as possible, on this assignment," Nakamaru says at last. It's very clear he's talking exclusively to Taguchi. "I don't think he can swing it, though."
Now they're both eyeing Ryo up and down, making "hm" sounds and looking at each other with doubtfully scrunched-up expressions.
Nakamaru doesn't think Ryo can *swing it*? What the fuck, Ryo's standing right there!
"I'm sure he could swing it just fine, if it was necessary," Taguchi says at last, with a gratingly encouraging smile at Ryo. "Still, why should he have to? No need to force it! I've heard that height isn't really such an important thing these days anyway, it's really just –"
And suddenly it's a point of pride. "I can swing any fucking thing I want to, okay?"
They look at him again. Nakamaru goes away and comes back with a large, deep plastic tray which he deposits on the table between the two stacks of booklets. It's full of… clothes. In a manner of speaking.
"Here," Nakamaru says to Ryo, holding out a black leather collar studded with silver spikes. "Put this on."
Ryo stares at Nakamaru. Nakamaru stares back. And Ryo takes the damn collar.
Fuck it; it's just an undercover gig. Ryo's done this kind of thing before. Not *exactly* this kind of thing, with the gay BDSM bit. But close enough – there was this one hostess club where he was a waiter for a couple of weeks, which was pretty much the same kind of thing, basically. Right?
Right. All just part of the job.
He inspects the collar for a moment and then slips off his tie, stuffing it in his pocket. He has to open a couple of shirt buttons to get the collar on, but the buckle closes easily – the leather is soft with use, because Nakamaru is annoyingly talkative and pedantic but damn good at his job, and never makes mistakes like handing out too-new equipment – and the collar itself is surprisingly comfortable. Pretty much like a tight tie, really.
He can so swing it. Fuck them.
Nakamaru twists his mouth into a thin, humorless approximation of a smile. "Right. Now kneel down like a good little pet and cuddle up to your master, would you."
Ryo smirks at Nakamaru as he kneels down and leans against Taguchi's leg. Like this is such a big thing? He can be cuddly and sexy and submissive.
But when he looks up at Taguchi to try some smouldering (one of the women in the hostess club was famous for her smouldering), Taguchi's watching him all wide-eyed and doubtful.
What?
Ryo hunkers down a little more. After some thought, he also puts a hand on Taguchi's calf, tries for a sweet, admiring smile and pouts a little, the way the models in magazines always do.
"Uhm," says Taguchi.
"Not that your own special brand of aggressive submission isn't entertaining, Nishikido, but I'm afraid that you have flunked the test," says Nakamaru. "Nobody's dumb enough to buy that." Oh, fuck him and his braying laugh. He always gets way too much of a kick out of the embarrassing assignments. "I'll be right back with the rest of the equipment. First contact's scheduled for this Wednesday."
"Better whip to it then, huh?"
Taguchi chuckles at his own joke; Nakamaru rolls his eyes, but grins tolerantly. Ryo just glares at them both and takes off the damn collar.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
They go to Taguchi's place because it's closer. It's tiny, smaller even than Ryo's closet of an apartment, but it's spotless, and obsessively neat. At least it is before their cramming session starts.
Taguchi's fridge is just as spotless and empty as the rest of the place, so they go down to the conbini at the corner and stock up on onigiri and senbei and pocki and soft drinks (Ryo grabs a couple of cans of beer before he remembers and then puts them back, trying not to think).
And then they start in on Nakamaru's research notes about the Ragaraja, and its cash flow and licensing situation, and various Sugiura Ikka thugs and foot soldiers, and the lieutenants possibly running and/or frequenting the club, and how to apply nipple clamps and simple kinbaku bonds, and how to tell an actual BDSM afficionado from a thrill-seeking tourist – or undercover cop, as the case may be.
"So, I just wanted to say," Taguchi ventures at some point, and when Ryo looks up, the man is smiling a strangely shy little smile. "This may be an odd assignment to have as our first case together, but – I. I hope you will give me your guidance! I'm going to do my best not to disappoint either the superintendent or you, and… I am really glad to be working with you, Ryo-chan."
"Don't call me that." It just slips out; a harsh bark that makes Taguchi jerk a little, almost like Ryo slapped him.
What the fuck kind of speech was that – it sounds for all the world like Taguchi is expecting this working together thing to be permanent, when Ryo expects Uchi back any day now. Any fucking day.
"But – oh. I'm sorry. I just thought… Uchi-san called you –"
"He's my *partner*. You're just a stand-in until he gets back to work."
The smile has faded. Taguchi looks down at his hands, and… fuck.
Taguchi's a good cop, Kitagawa says so and Ryo has no reason to disbelieve it, and he seems like a nice guy, and he's already had to put up with a lot of Ryo's foul mood. He hasn't complained, has been cheerful and friendly, has tried to…
It's not that he'd be a bad partner. Not at all. He just isn't Ryo's partner, because Ryo already has one. Uchi just needs a couple of weeks or months to get his head on straight, then he'll get back to work all bright-eyed and bushy-tailed and good as new.
Ryo gets up to go to the bathroom, and gets the last bottle of Calpis from the fridge on his way back. They both seem to like it best – should have bought more of it.
Taguchi's back to leafing through the case info, but he looks up when Ryo kicks at his foot, and accepts the bottle Ryo holds out with a smile.
"Look, Taguchi," Ryo starts, and then doesn't know how to go on. So he drops it and just says the first thing that comes to mind. "What about your own partner? I mean, you have one. Right? In Yokohama."
"He's dead," Taguchi says.
It comes out so simply and easily that for one shocked moment, it sounds almost casual to Ryo. But then Taguchi catches Ryo's gaze, and there's no mistaking the look in his eyes as anything even close to casual, or simple, or easy.
His tone remains eerily light when he goes on. "There was a protection racket that nobody seemed particularly interested in except us. Not long after we started digging, Tomo was killed in a hit-and-run that nobody except me seemed particularly interested in, either. And then it was suggested to me that the climate might be healthier for me elsewhere. I guess a second accident would have been too much of a coincidence."
Fuck.
Ryo's not naive; he knows cops are just as likely to be cowardly and greedy and mercenary as the next guy. But somehow he's still always appalled and chilled – and yeah, shocked – when he's confronted with outright corruption on this scale. It's just wrong... it shouldn't be possible that someone who should be protecting people and upholding laws just looks the other way, or worse.
"There was nothing to achieve by staying, so I agreed to a transfer," Taguchi adds after a moment, when Ryo doesn't say anything. He doesn't sound defensive, just matter-of-fact – almost detached, except for that look. "It's alright. I won't forget."
There's more than determination in that look; more than a glimpse of underlying steel that Ryo has never before suspected Taguchi of having. There's anger. No, rage – the icy, hard kind of rage Ryo never really gets, because his own anger burns quick and hot and all-consuming and then dies. This rage is cold and patient and implacable, and – yeah. Ryo gets why whoever murdered Taguchi's partner got him transferred.
Kitagawa's unit seems to pick up a lot of odd cops like that... cops that don't fit in anywhere else. Ryo's never sure whether that means someone high up really hates the Superintendent's guts, or thinks the world of him.
Ryo also never knows what to say in moments like this.
"Fuck," he gets out finally, roughly, because he has to say something. "I – that really sucks."
And then he wants to kick himself because it's totally inadequate, to the point where it sounds almost like Ryo's playing this down, when he didn't mean it that way at all. He just doesn't know how to respond. There are no words for this kind of thing – or if there are, Ryo doesn't know them.
But Taguchi nods and doesn't say anything, and after another moment he smiles a little, and it's crooked and looks like it hurts, but it's real. He got it, got just what Ryo meant.
If Ryo has to work while Uchi's away, then he does need someone to work with. He doesn't like working solo, and what's more he's crap at it, and Kitagawa (and everyone else and their grandmother, and her little dog, too) knows it.
Ryo needs someone to watch his back and anchor him and balance him out, to bounce ideas off of, and to give him a kick in the ass every once in a while. He could probably do worse than Taguchi.
"Nishikido-san," says Taguchi. "We should –"
"Ryo-kun," Ryo says, gruffly, "Ryo-kun is fine," and goes to get a bottle of water when Taguchi smiles at him all surprised and bright and happy.
Ryo isn't used to cops smiling like that, but he guesses there's no reason why he can't get used to it.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
"Why, hello there," says the muscle-bound bouncer-type in the studded leather pants and vest. A long moment later, he drags his gaze up to Ryo and grins at him, too. "I'm Shingo. Welcome to the Ragaraja!"
"Ryo. We're glad to be here." It's a bit short, but Ryo's not about to thank the man, not with Nakamaru's extensive notes on dominance games fresh in his mind. He doesn't stand up either, just remains seated in his comfy easy chair. "This is Junno."
"Pleased to meet you," Junno says politely. He's curled up on the ground, leaning lightly against Ryo's leg. It's not as weird as it might be; they've practiced this over and over in the last two days, to the point where it's become almost familiar. Practicing was awkward, at times, but when Shingo's gaze wanders downwards again, Ryo is glad they didn't cut corners.
Ryo puts a not-quite-casual hand on Junno's shoulder, smoothing soft fabric over firm muscle. He can't think of him as Taguchi anymore; it's hard (and of course counterproductive in terms of the assignment) to keep that kind of mental distance from someone you've been "getting physically comfortable with", as Nakamaru likes to put it.
Ryo would have called it a really bizarre, carefully planned and uncomfortably stilted version of making out, himself.
"The pleasure is all mine," purrs Shingo with a broad smile that is solely for Junno, this time.
When the man looks up again Ryo catches his gaze and holds it. Shingo is the one who looks away first, something like a roguish grin tugging at the corners of his mouth.
Ryo can tell this is going to be a long assignment… for a whole bunch of reasons.
Shingo arranges himself in one of the easy chairs across from Ryo, waving at someone across the room with a casual air of command that Ryo commits to memory, the same way he's been collecting looks and motions and attitudes ever since they passed through the club's door.
"So!" The friendly cheer Shingo radiates when he claps his hands seems oddly incongruous considering the way he's dressed, but hey, it's not like Ryo's really fit to judge that kind of thing. "I'm here to show you the ropes – not just figuratively speaking, but that too. Get you settled in, answer any questions you may have about the Ragaraja's rules, show you around... introduce you to anyone you would like to get introduced to, if you're shy."
Ryo snorts a little and takes another look around. This part of the club looks like a cross between a high-class hotel lobby and an expensive café, with small groups of easy chairs dotted about, pleasingly interspersed with plants and more or less abstract statues of various levels of carnality. A bar runs along the far side of the room, and about half of the men lounging on barstools seem to be there mostly because of the proximity to the club entrance. Every guy who walks in is subjected to their open and intense scrutiny, with no attempt made to conceal either the attention itself or its sexual nature.
There's enough for the gawkers to see: Guys are walking in regularly. Considering the early hour and that it's a Wednesday night, there's a surprisingly large number of men around. Not all of them are dressed in leather and studs the way Shingo is, and all of them are wearing enough that they wouldn't be arrested if they went out on the street, but most of them would get pretty cold.
Like the young man who comes up to them with a tray and sets tall, frosted glasses with what looks like freshly squeezed orange juice in front of first Shingo and then Ryo and Junno. He's wearing tight, but unremarkable jeans and a plain black collar, and nothing else.
He puts down a fourth glass, hands Shingo a folder, and props the tray against the side of the table before folding himself down at Shingo's feet with a showy kind of grace that Ryo is certain has to be practiced.
"Tadayoshi," Shingo says by way of introduction. His fingers are already threading through the young man's hair, petting him with absent possessiveness.
Ryo doesn't bother to disguise the once-over he's giving the Ohkura clan's youngest child. Shingo notices, and doesn't seem to mind at all. Quite the contrary, he puts a hand on Tadayoshi's shoulder and turns him a little, giving Ryo a better view.
Longish hair is gathered back from a handsome face, falling to the man's shoulders in a deliberately messy style. Ryo would have recognized him even without benefit of the picture in Nakamaru's briefing – Ohkura Tadayoshi looks exactly like his infamous uncle, minus several decades, the broken nose and the blank shark's stare. Tadayoshi isn't overly muscular – not nearly as muscular as Shingo – but definitely fit. His jeans are even tighter now that he's half-kneeling, half-reclining on the ground; they hug slim thighs and reveal the outline of an impressive package. Either he's padded for effect or aroused, or possibly both.
No tattooes on his chest and arms, and probably not on his back either, or he'd be wearing a shirt. Of course he may just be feeling that he's on home territory, but a growing number of the younger high-ranking yakuza are choosing practicality and discretion over tradition when it comes to tattooes.
Shingo takes Ryo's interest in his sub as permission to let his own gaze dip to Junno once again, this time at more length. Junno leans back further against Ryo's leg, posing. Ryo waits, and insinuates a hand underneath Junno's shirt. It's half unbuttoned, showing off both Junno's collar and a nicely muscled expanse of pectorals; easy for Ryo to push aside, to stroke slow fingertips along Junno's collarbone. Shingo's eyes follow the idle caress so predictably that Ryo has to suppress a smile.
When he looks up this time, his gaze rakes over Ryo too. Ryo lets his legs fall apart a bit more.
"Pretty," Shingo says at last.
Ryo smiles, letting just a hint of steel creep into his expression as he meets and holds the man's gaze. "Tell me about the Ragaraja's rules."
It's a clear command, and Shingo bristles immediately, brows drawing together, body tensing. They hold each other's challenging stares for a moment, but then Shingo laughs and shakes his head, breaking the tension without conceding.
"Oh, I like you already. I hope we can play together some time!"
Junno leans his head on Ryo's thigh, rubs his cheek gently over the fabric of Ryo's jeans, almost like a cat. He also puts a hand on Ryo's calf, out of sight of the others, and pinches him.
Was that too much, just then? It's hard to judge; Ryo doesn't really think he was over the top, but he takes the hint and bends forward to pick up his drink in order to avoid even more eye contact.
Shingo hands him two copies of the Ragaraja's rules. Ryo passes one page to Junno and takes the time to read the other through carefully from top to bottom.
It seems to be a pretty standard set of rules for a club of this kind, judging by their briefing. The politeness and respect rules are first – don't make assumptions, wait for invitations, always negotiate limits, privacy and discretion, given names only, all that. Then the legal limitations: no illegal substances, no smoking and no solicitation. The default safe word is "red", monitors have final say. The dungeon rules are last. No fireplay, needles or bloodsports; scat and watersports only in the designated dungeon, which comes with an extra charge above and beyond the monthly membership fee.
And that's it.
"So," Ryo says slowly. "No restrictions other than that?"
When he looks up from the paper, Shingo's grinning at him. "You can always tell who's used to the mixed clubs. Yes, penetration is a definite go. You can fuck your little heart out."
"Good to know." Ryo's hand has wandered to Junno's neck; he strokes the warm skin at the side of his throat, just above the collar. Tadayoshi watches with definite interest. Maybe Junno is better at smouldering than Ryo.
"This area is the lounge – for eating and talking, mingling. No sex, no scenes, clothing not optional." Shingo gestures towards the double door at the back of the room. "The salon's back there – that's for mingling with an option of sex. We have private rooms too. Scenes only in the dungeons, though, not in the salon and not in private rooms either. It's a liability thing."
"Makes sense," Ryo agrees.
They finish their orange juice, and Shingo taps Tadayoshi on the shoulder and points. Immediately, he rolls to his knees and collects the tray. He manages to kneel very fetchingly, twisted very slightly to the side with his feet tucked under him, back straight but head bent demurely.
Junno pinches Ryo's leg again, and for a moment Ryo has no idea why. Then, just in time, he catches on and draws away from Junno's silken throat, nudges him slightly with his knee instead. When Junno looks at him questioningly, Ryo nods towards Tadayoshi, and Junno dips into a quick acquiescent bow before scooting forward and snagging the last two empty glasses, just before Tadayoshi can get to them.
"Please let me help you," he says softly. It's not like there's much of a necessity for help when the task in question is carrying four empty glasses, but in another moment Junno and Tadayoshi have both risen gracefully and taken themselves off, not without bowing to their doms first.
Shingo's eyes follow them as they head for the bar together. His gaze lingers very obviously on Junno's ass, which is small and tight and appealingly showcased by very tight pants.
He's not the only one watching. Everyone in the Ragaraja is brutally open about showing their appreciation – doms and subs alike. The constant lustful stares took Ryo aback at first, but now, he appreciates the freedom to stare himself... comparing every new face to the pictures he's memorized, for one thing.
"Do you swap?" Shingo asks, and only then looks back to Ryo.
Ryo's grin is smug; he has something the other man wants, and that gives him power. "It's been known to happen. Occasionally."
Wouldn't do to discourage the interest of Ohkura Tadayoshi's lover, or playmate. Or whatever.
At the bar, Junno says something, and Tadayoshi laughs. They stand together talking for several moments before heading back, walking closely together. In purely aesthetic terms, they match well: both tall and slim, both highly attractive, both possessed of a similar kind of lithe athleticism.
"Imagine having them both," Shingo muses, and shoots a speculative glance at Ryo. "Tying them both up with the same rope..."
Ryo smiles and shrugs, which could mean anything at all. Shingo doesn't push.
Next up is a tour through the club. Beyond the lounge, there's a small hall centered around a carefully groomed miniature garden, set underneath a fake skylight on a raised plant bed a meter high. A marble pillar wreathed around with shackles, chains and ivy takes pride of place.
"Dressing room's here – the lockers work with your membership cards." Shingo pushes open the door briefly and lets them take a look. "The showers are through there. You can also reach them directly from the dungeons, of course."
One of the other doors off the hall leads to a dance floor; a small group of men comes through as they watch, letting out a brief slice of electronic dance music and darkness punctured by disco lights.
"Private rooms are up the stairs," Shingo says. "You pay by credit card at the doors. Both dungeons are down the hall here, but the main entrances are in the salon. Most people prefer to stop by the salon first to settle in and then go on through when they're in the space." He flashes a toothy grin. "Chatting isn't allowed in the dungeons, of course, so how about we drop by the salon ourselves, have another drink, answer any questions you may have at this point..."
Subtle, he isn't. Ryo considers the phrasing for a moment and then shrugs acceptance.
The salon looks pretty much exactly like the lobby, except that the lighting is slightly lower and most of the twenty or so men "mingling" are wearing considerably less. The scent of sex is unmistakable, even though there are two air-conditioning units on the ceiling; two men are leaning against the far wall, so intertwined that it's hard to tell if there's any actual fucking going on.
They settle down at another table, Ryo and Shingo claiming chairs. Junno and Tadayoshi head for the bar again, and when they return with drinks in hand, Tadayoshi is walking so close to Junno that their shoulders brush with every step.
Tadayoshi kneels on the floor in front of Shingo, arranging himself into a clearly studied pose with his head demurely lowered.
Junno sinks down a bit closer to the others than before, legs folded to one side, body turned just so. His back and shoulder lean lightly against Ryo's shin; his head is turned slightly more than his body, resting against Ryo's thigh. Not so incidentally, the posture puts all of him on display, from his face to his long throat (black collar stark against pale skin) down his chest and stomach, all the way to his endlessly long legs.
If Ryo leans forward a bit, he can enjoy the view, too. So he does, letting his gaze linger on the subtly ripped abdomen visible underneath the loosely falling shirt, the glimpse of the V of muscle leading downwards, the rise and dip of the hipbone peeking above the low waistline. The outline of Junno's cock lying against his right thigh, plainly visible underneath the thin cloth of his pants.
When Ryo looks up, Tadayoshi is staring through his artful fringe. It's only a moment before he realizes Ryo's gaze is on him; then, he casts his eyes down again.
"So what kind of play are you into?" Shingo asks.
Junno's hair is soft to the touch. Ryo runs his fingers through it slowly, strokes the back of Junno's head the way you would pet a cat. Junno turns slightly into the touch.
Afterwards, Ryo doesn't remember what answer he gives. He knows he says something, memorized words rolling smoothly off his tongue; but what he remembers is the warmth of Junno beneath his fingertips, the way Junno responds, lifting his chin to make more of himself available when Ryo's casual caresses stray onto the skin behind his ear.
Whatever Ryo says, Shingo's happy with it. He grins and nods and goes on to list what he and Tadayoshi – and sometimes additional players – like to get up to, in lurid detail.
Over at the next table, someone cries out. Ryo looks over to see one of the omnipresent bouncer-types in black leather drag a baby-faced young man from his chair by the harness around his chest, holding him almost entirely off the ground. Babyface struggles ineffectually for a second or two before subsiding; bouncer shifts his hold, turns his catch roughly around and pins his arms to his sides while a second broad-shouldered dom drags off his skintight lacquer pants.
Shingo turns around to see what caught Ryo's attention. They watch as the first dom undoes the front of his pants, pulls out a meaty erection, bends babyface over his forearm and shoves into him with no further ado. Babyface cries out once more when he's penetrated, but the second dom grabs his chin and unlaces his own pants with his free hand, and then the sub's mouth is otherwise occupied.
It's exactly like a scene from a porn movie, except for the lack of the usual elevator-music soundtrack, and the smell of sex, and the small sounds of conversation and clinking glasses from all around. And just like a porn movie, it's both impersonally arousing and oddly unreal.
Belatedly, Ryo realizes that the guy doing the fucking looks a lot like one of the Sugiura Ikka's main enforcers. Maybe he should have noticed that first of all, but... well.
"Remind me to introduce you to Shinji," says Shingo, the newly rough note in his voice contrasting with his casual words. "Doesn't do scenes often, but always good for a quick fuck when you want to take the edge off."
When Shingo turns back around, Tadayoshi leans up and whispers something in his ear. Shingo cuffs him casually across the side of the face, knocking him back onto his heels; then he laughs and leans forward to run a broad hand down his sub's chest. Tadayoshi arches his back, lifts into the touch; lifts his hips right off the floor when Shingo slides his hand between his legs, and leans back on his arms with his knees spread far apart, body bent back in a bow. Like almost every move he makes, it's calculated, practiced. A display.
Ryo's hand is curled around Junno's throat, warm skin and leather and metal. Maybe Ryo moves in some way, or tugs at the collar, or makes a sound he isn't aware of; he does something, at any rate, and whatever it is, Junno twists around to look at him.
His eyes are dark and wide; the merest hint of a rosy flush lies high on his cheekbones.
Pretty, Shingo said. Yeah... he is that.
Ryo runs a careful thumb along Junno's lips. They open beneath his touch, soft and warm, inviting. Ryo does it again, and then slides two fingers into Junno's mouth. Wet heat, and Junno opens for him with no hesitation, and then seals his lips around Ryo's fingers and sucks, his tongue teasing Ryo's fingertips.
The look Junno gives Ryo through lowered lashes should be coy, really, but it's too aware for that, too...
The tight coil of arousal in Ryo's stomach unfurls a bit more, heat seeping into his gut, and he exhales and looks up – right into Shingo's eyes.
For a moment they watch each other in measuring silence. Ryo doesn't really know what this is about, but he knows enough not to drop his eyes or look away.
"My Tadayoshi likes your pet," Shingo says at last, still holding Ryo's eyes. "What do you think?"
He breaks eye contact then, so that Ryo can look down. Tadayoshi doesn't meet his gaze, of course, just rearranges himself, spreading his thighs a little more to show off the bulge in his jeans to best advantage.
Junno's weight is warm against Ryo's leg, Junno's mouth still hot and wet around his fingers. Too many emotions to easily sort out tumble through Ryo, and for a moment he can't think, distracted by Junno's dark eyes and soft skin, by the sounds of the men fucking not five meters away.
Then, Junno's teeth close not-quite-gently over Ryo's fingers in a clear prompt. Junno's gaze is steady on his, and Ryo is reminded that whatever else this is, it's also a chance. A better chance than they could have expected.
"I think they will be beautiful together," Ryo says softly, and pulls back from Junno.
Shingo unclips a coil of leather from his belt and attaches it to Tadayoshi's collar, winds the end of the leash around his wrist. Tadayoshi waits, head tilted to the side to allow easy access to his collar, the very image of submissiveness.
After a moment, Ryo pushes Junno off his leg and kicks the low coffee table in their seating group to the side, out of the way.
"Go, but watch yourself. Don't be too free with someone else's belongings, you little slut." There's amusement and affection in Shingo's voice; he cuffs Tadayoshi again by way of sending him off, and then Tadayoshi is crawling across the small stretch of carpet that separates him from Junno.
Crawling is the wrong word for it, really – Tadayoshi slinks, ass in the air, body swaying provocatively. The leash is taut between his collar and Shingo's fist, with Shingo doling out just enough play to let his sub move forward.
He stops a hand's breadth away from Junno, so close that Ryo can hear his quiet breaths, could easily reach out and touch him. Stops and doesn't move, eyes lowered, head submissively ducked. Waiting.
"Kiss him," Ryo says after a long moment of silence.
Ryo isn't sure which one of them he's talking to, but the one who moves is Junno. He reaches out and puts a hand under Tadayoshi's chin, tips his head up; the two look at each other for a brief moment, and now, the heat in Tadayoshi's eyes is open to see. Then Junno moves forward the last couple of centimeters and their lips meet, cling.
For a long moment that's all it is, just an almost chaste touch of lips. Then, Tadayoshi makes a quiet sound in the back of his throat, and his lips open, and Junno moves in to deepen the kiss, and a moment later it's impossible to say who's kissing whom because they're both moving, lips sliding against each other, tongues entwining...
Ryo isn't aware of reaching out, but suddenly his hand is on warm skin, cupping the nape of Junno's neck above the collar. Junno freezes for a moment, but Ryo pushes him forward the tiniest bit and Junno follows the movement, deepening the kiss even more. An instant later Tadayoshi shifts closer and changes his stance, and then his hand is hovering in mid-air in front of Junno's chest, spread fingers trembling slightly.
Junno's relaxed, both of his hands spread on the floor, no sign of tension in the muscles beneath Ryo's touch. So...
"You may touch him," Ryo tells Tadayoshi, and Tadayoshi moans almost inaudibly into Junno's mouth as he brushes aside Junno's shirt, touches his bare skin.
Ryo's own hand strays down further, slides underneath the shirt's collar and follows the lines of bone and tendon to the powerful curve of Junno's shoulder, hard muscle bunching beneath his touch as Tadayoshi finds Junno's nipple, pinches it and rubs it between his fingers.
Junno breaks the kiss to suck in a deep breath against Tadayoshi's lips. Shingo says something Ryo doesn't catch, and then Junno's sliding a hand into Tadayoshi's hair and pulling him in for another languid, deep kiss, eyes falling closed, the color on his cheekbones rising.
Not pretty – not pretty at all. Stunning... ravishing. Beautiful.
Tadayoshi's hand wanders lower, disappears into the shirt as he strokes across Junno's stomach. One of the buttons gives, and then Ryo shifts in his chair, leans forward and slides both hands down the front of Junno's body. Spare, hard muscle and soft skin and heat, and Junno arches his back, pushes into his touch.
When Tadayoshi pulls back, Ryo grabs the sides of Junno's shirt and tears it all the way open, not bothering to undo the buttons. Somehow Ryo's kneeling behind Junno now, Junno's body folded close and hard against his, Junno's head on his shoulder.
Junno moans quietly, a fragment of sound in Ryo's ear. Ryo watches over his shoulder as Tadayoshi's hand slides down to the front of Junno's pants, tracing the shape of Junno's cock. Junno's hard, and when Tadayoshi presses down with his palm, Ryo can feel the shiver of response running through Junno's body.
"Stop," Ryo barks. His voice is harsh and rough and he had no idea he was going to speak before he did. Tadayoshi stops instantly, pulls back to sit on his heels; there's a thin sheen of sweat on his chest and the erection pressing against his fly is unmistakable. He's panting, lust open in his expression as he stares at Junno. At any other time, Ryo would probably have more appreciation for the picture Tadayoshi makes – debauched and x-rated and blatantly available.
Now, Junno's warm weight lies against Ryo's front; now, Junno is pressed back into the juncture of Ryo's thighs, into Ryo's erection, and Ryo has no attention to spare for anything but this: his hand on Junno's naked stomach, fingers spread, drawing him back, pressing him closer... hot skin, and the way firm muscles tremble beneath Ryo's touch, and the way Junno's breath stutters when Ryo draws his fingertips along the skin just above his waistband.
"Very pretty indeed."
Shingo... Ryo had forgotten he was there. But he is, still there and still watching. Two pairs of eyes are following Ryo's touch across Junno's stomach and up his chest. Maybe Ryo should care, but he really doesn't.
He hooks a finger into the D-ring at Junno's collar, and when he tugs, Junno lifts up and turns, straddles him in a single smooth movement. Junno's mouth opens to him with no hesitation; Ryo runs possessive hands down his back as they kiss, and Junno presses closer until he's molded against Ryo from chest to groin.
It's so easy, so natural. Ryo doesn't think, just goes with the flow, follows the promptings of desire and the cues of Junno's body. Junno's erection lies hard and hot against Ryo's stomach, so he curves both hands around Junno's ass, lifts him into Ryo and swallows the sound Junno makes in a greedy kiss. Junno crosses his legs behind Ryo's back and pushes closer, so Ryo traces the seam of his pants down between his buttocks, chases it down all the way to the soft weight of Junno's balls and pauses to circle fingertips against them before following it back up to the hidden opening to Junno's body.
There's no way to misunderstand the suggestion – the question – of Ryo's fingers pushing against the obstructive fabric. Junno's thighs tense around Ryo's waist and Junno pushes back into the touch, so Ryo slides a hand up to the small of Junno's back, slips underneath his waistband and onto bare skin –
"I hate to interrupt."
What the –
Fucking Shingo. Fucking Shingo *again*, and this time he's too close to ignore – not when he's squatting right there next to them, staring. Not when he won't fucking back off, not even for Ryo's most virulent glare.
The glare does get Shingo to put up his palms appeasingly, though. "Your call, Ryo-san – I got no problems watching you screw, believe me. If you want to have a look at the equipment tonight, though, we'd better get going. In half an hour the dungeons will fill up, and then you won't be seeing anything down there but cocks and whips."
Dungeons.
Right... dungeons. Because they're here to look around, scope out the place... you never know what kind of detail might become important later on, what kind of useful edge you may gain.
Letting go of Junno is harder than it should be, and Ryo takes a moment just to breathe before he does – before he pushes at Junno's shoulders. Junno slides off Ryo's lap all flushed and tousled and irresistibly alluring, and – fuck.
Ryo feels cold without the heat of Junno's body. He's so hard that the discomfort of being trapped in way-too-tight pants edges on pain, and he gingerly shifts himself as he stands up. Junno doesn't look to be any better off.
Shingo watches them both, and doesn't hide his own state of arousal when he stands, dragging Tadayoshi up behind him by the leash.
An hour later, when they've been shown around the bondage table and chair, the simple slings and the complex frame, the suspension beams and the stock and whipping post and the benches that look almost (but also really not) like something Ryo would expect to find at his fitness studio... when Shingo's led them back out of the main dungeon and pointed them towards the lists for the advance reservation of equipment, and explained that you bring your own restraints and toys, but that fucking machines, electric equipment and the like can only be used by express permission of the dungeon monitor...
An hour later, when they step out of the vertiginously over-sexed atmosphere of the Ragaraja and into the cool, neon-flavored night air of Ni-chome, Ryo is very grateful indeed that Shingo interrupted them when he did.
The drive back is awkward enough as it is.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
"That went well, for a first contact's first contact," Junno says, just when Ryo's beginning to hope they won't have to talk about it at all, ever.
But... yeah. There really is no choice. They have to be on the same page about this; can't have unresolved issues lurking to trip them up when they go back in. That kind of thing is a sure-fire way to ruin an assignment, and maybe get killed.
So, talking.
Fuck.
Junno's driving, so he can't look expectantly at Ryo for too long. It still feels like half a lifetime, though, and – gods. Ryo really hopes he doesn't look as awkward as he feels.
"Uh, yeah," Ryo gets out after a slightly too-long silence. "Yeah. I guess."
Except for the fact that he almost accidentally fucked Junno right there on the floor, cheered on by two dozen gangsters in PVC, leather and chains. Sure, except for that, everything went swimmingly. Except for the fact that he still can't get the feeling of Junno beneath his hands and against his body out of his mind, can't forget the softness of his mouth, his thighs wrapped around Ryo's waist, the little moan he gave when Ryo –
He doesn't know where to look or what to do with his hands, or his feet. He doesn't want Junno to look at him. He wants to talk about this about as much as he wants to pull out his own teeth with pliers and without benefit of anaesthetic.
But.
*Fuck.*
"Interesting that Ohkura Tadayoshi's a sub," Junno says, just when Ryo's about to blurt out... something; he doesn't even know what. "Or rather, that he's open about it. Someone who's known as a sub won't be able to rise far in the yakuza, no matter who he is. It's worse than being openly gay."
Ryo blinks, and looks at Junno – really looks at him – for the first time since they left the club.
They're turning onto a busy intersection, and Junno is watching the traffic. Streetlights and neon signs cast splashes of color and light and shadow over his face, making him look odd, almost unfamiliar; cool and focussed and distant.
"That's – yeah." Junno's right. Ryo's been too busy thinking about… other things, but Junno's right. "You think it's a rebellion? Refusing to be pushed into a role he doesn't want to fill?"
Junno shrugs and shoots him a quick glance. "Too soon to tell, but worth keeping in mind, huh?"
"Hell yes." This could be nothing or it could be the kind of break that cops dream of, and it's important information no matter what. But… there's still that other thing.
Damn it, Ryo isn't going to be a fucking wimp about this.
He clears his throat and stares out at the street. "I may have – back there. I was, uh. Kind of caught up in the moment. And it's not that I think – you know. Or anything. But I should have maybe… so. You know."
His face heats up and he clamps his jaw shut to prevent any more babbling from spilling forth. Gods, could he be any more incoherent? How hard can it be to say *I got a little out of hand, sorry about that*?
Junno glances over. Ryo doesn't want to look, but he can't help sneaking a quick peek; he catches a bare instant of surprise on Junno's face before a smile breaks over it, bright and sunny and cheerful. "It's fine, Ryo-kun. I thought you knew that. It takes two to tango! I could have used one of the signs. It's good that we could both go with it so well, isn't it? We were very convincing!"
"Yeah," Ryo mumbles, and tries not to spontaneously combust from sheer mortification. "Convincing."
This is going to be a long assignment, alright.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
"Hey," says the answering machine in Uchi's voice. "Tried to call you at the station, but... you got an assignment, huh." There's a pause, and Uchi tries hard to sound casual when he goes on. It probably works, for anyone who doesn't know him as well as Ryo does. "Fuck, I hope Kitagawa gets his head out of his ass soon. I really need to get back to work. I'm going crazy here."
Ryo checks the time – it's way past midnight, too late to call Uchi back now. He'll call him in the morning; he doesn't have to get to the station before the debriefing at noon.
The debriefing. Damn. Ryo really isn't looking forward to that. Although, hell, Kitagawa ought to be happy with them... no reason for him not to be, is there? They did well. They established a solid, successful cover and ran into two known yakuza right off the bat. Yeah, they got off to a pretty damn effective start. If making out with a mob prince and leaving him panting for more doesn't count as getting your foot in the door, then Ryo doesn't know what does.
He does kind of wonder how they're going to phrase it all. But... Ryo will just leave that to Junno. He's better with words, and besides, he was the one cozying up to Ohkura.
As for the other cozying up that's taken place... well. No real need to mention it, is there? Just part of the cover.
The machine clicks over to the next message as Ryo wanders into the kitchen. He can hardly remember when he last ate anything that deserves the name of food; for the last couple of days he's been running on curry buns, instant ramen and onigiri. But he still has some home-made gyoza in the freezer that he can fry up, and maybe –
"Ryo-chan." Uchi again, but now his voice is slow, slurred and layered with anger. Ryo's stomach clenches, but he shuts down the thoughts that want to crowd in. Yeah, fuck it, so Uchi had a drink, so fucking *what*! "What the fuck is this, huh. You got to work alone with no-one watching your back and I got to twiddle my thumbs for no fucking reason except fucking Kitagawa's got some fucking bug up his ass. Never liked me. Looking for an excuse, fucking bastard. Kind of mistake anyone could make. Didn't even shoot the guy anywhere important. Be just fine, the fucking whiner."
Yeah, right.
But that's disloyal – Ryo has to think that from where Uchi had stood, the situation had looked different. It happens. Uchi was – *is* a good cop, *is*, will be again, and Ryo derails that train of thought right there and then before it goes any further, just grabs the gyoza and slams the freezer shut.
Another beep from the answering machine, but the next message is nothing but silence, and some rustling and breathing. The next one, though... "Can't, Ryo, gotta work. What else is there, I –" And there's more after that, a lot more, but Ryo doesn't understand a word of it. It's too slurred and indistinct, the only clear thing the note of desperation, and what could conceivably be sobs.
The bag slips from Ryo's grip and thuds to the floor, frozen gyoza rolling all over. He doesn't think; he just calls Uchi. But Uchi doesn't pick up the phone.
It doesn't have to mean anything. It's late, and Uchi's been drinking, and he's probably just asleep and it doesn't have to mean anything at all, but the thing is, if Uchi thinks he'll never be unsuspended, if he's desperate enough – Ryo knows him, knows him too well, and –
Junno answers the phone right away. He hasn't even arrived home yet, and he doesn't complain and he doesn't ask anything, just says he'll turn the car around and be right there.
Ryo has a car, too. But Ryo's too tired to drive, and he had a drink at the club, and yeah he could call a cab but that'd be fucking expensive, and it's faster to get to Uchi's place by car, and –
And fuck it, Ryo's not going there alone, he isn't, because he knows Uchi too well. Uchi's – if Uchi – no, Ryo can't go alone, he can't, he won't. And he doesn't have to.
Ryo waits for Junno in front of the house; he doesn't have to wait long. The ride to Uchi's place doesn't take long, either, even if it seems like a slow eternity. The streets in this part of town are all but empty at this hour of the morning, only a handful of delivery vans and taxis out and about, and Junno goes easily twice as fast as the speed limit.
The building's security code hasn't changed, which is good, because Uchi isn't answering his door any more than he's answering the phone. It doesn't matter – Ryo's key still opens the apartment's door.
A drift of jackets and plastic bags and who knows what else prevents the door from opening all the way. Uchi's apartment is a sty, dirty clothes, moldy take-out cartons and half-drunk cups of coffee littering every available surface, including the floor. But that's the way Uchi's place has always looked; only the stench is new, hints of locker room drowned out by beer and shochu and sour vomit.
Ryo curses as he wades through a drift of stinky laundry and empty cans and bottles and finally, finally catches sight of Uchi, crumpled in the far corner behind the bed.
"Fucking hell!"
Uchi is almost translucently pale and stinks of old sweat and alcohol. His skin is clammy and cold to the touch; his body flops loosely in Ryo's grasp when he hauls him up. But – oh thank you gods – he has a pulse. Weak and fluttery, slow – gods, way too slow, but it's there, and that's something, that's more than Ryo was –
Ryo dumps the fucking idiot on the bed and slaps him, hard. Nothing. "Fuck you, you asshole!" Another slap, and this time Uchi at least makes a sound, kind of a grunt.
"Ryo," Junno says quietly.
"Just – help me get him in the bathtub. Some cold water and he'll be okay."
But Junno's just watching him, not moving. His phone is in his hand, already flipped open, and his gaze is very steady on Ryo's, and – fuck.
Fuck, okay, yeah, Ryo knows, alright, he *knows* – it's just that –
Everybody gets drunk sometimes. Everybody does, and it's okay, and everybody makes an ass of themselves when they're drunk, and that's okay too. But this... this is different, and not okay, and if someone finds out – if this goes on record –
"Yeah. Go ahead," Ryo says, roughly, and turns away from the unbearable compassion in Junno's eyes.
Not like Uchi's left them a fuckload of choices.
He tries not to listen as Junno makes the call, tries not to hear the words 'alcohol poisoning'. They could have been different words just as well, words like 'attempted suicide', because Uchi knows better, has to know better even when he's been drinking way too much for far too long.
"Five minutes," Junno says when he snaps his phone shut.
Five minutes – that's fast, faster than Ryo expected. Junno must have told them Uchi's a cop.
Ryo nods, sits down on the bed next to Uchi's corpse-still form. He wonders, vaguely, if he should try to clear away some of the empty bottles and cans. Not that it matters... their content is circulating in Uchi's blood, after all, and will show up loud and clear in the first test they do.
"Hey." Junno's voice is soft, gentle; for a moment, Ryo thinks he's talking to him. Then, Junno leans over the bed, pressing his hand to the side of Uchi's neck – no Ryo is not disappointed, why would he be – and Ryo belatedly realizes Uchi's eyes have slit open the tiniest bit. "It's okay. Someone will be here soon."
When Junno leans down his jacket falls open, and Ryo can see that Junno's still in the shirt he wore to the club, top buttons undone. The leather collar's gone, of course, but Junno's neck looks even longer without it. His hair falls softly around his face; his lips shimmer with a hint of remaining gloss and his eyes are still dark with make-up, just a little bit smudged.
"R'o," Uchi slurs.
Ryo looks down to find Uchi watching him with a very familiar, mocking curl of the lip. His eyes are glazed and he looks more than half-dead, but that look... Ryo's caught that look more times than he can count.
For one moment, everything rights itself in Ryo's world and he can see the old Uchi in his head, smirking at him. *You want to hit that pretty bad, huh? Yeah you do, don't give me the innocent look, you little fruit. He even swing your way? Guess you'll find out! Ten thou say you can't keep it in your pants for longer than a week.*
And then Uchi makes an odd choking sound, and Ryo barely manages to turn him to his side before he starts throwing up. The paramedics arrive just when Ryo's really beginning to be scared because Uchi's simply not *stopping*, and Junno pulls him away from the bed gently but firmly, and it's only when they're already out the door with Uchi strapped to a stretcher (on his side, still vomiting, one of the paramedics holding his head) that Ryo realizes he's shaking.
"Fucking hell," he gets out. His voice wobbles, and his eyes are burning.
Junno pulls him into the bathroom and makes him strip off his jacket and his shirt and wash the vomit off his arms, and then finds him a clean sweatshirt from some forgotten corner of Uchi's closet. Ryo pulls it over his head on automatic when Junno thrusts it at him. He follows Junno out of the apartment and into the car and back into his own apartment the same way.
Just. Fucking *hell*.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
"He shot a guy. He shot a man who had nothing to do with our case because he thought he was drawing a weapon."
Ryo's never actually told this story – not this way. Always before it was *sometimes you have to make split-second decisions, and no I didn't see the suspect do anything suspicious but I was much farther away and his back was to me, and it was a high-risk situation and a legitimate choice to make.*
Speaking these new words feels like a betrayal, even now... but they also feel like truth, the way those other words never did. Junno doesn't interrupt, doesn't push; just waits for Ryo to find his way through the minefield of language.
Words spoken and unspoken, truths, half-truths.
Lies Ryo's been telling himself.
"I didn't know he was drunk," Ryo finally gets out. "Not until they did the tests. He didn't seem drunk – he – I have no idea when he started drinking so much. I mean, I knew he drank some, but everyone does, right? It's a tough job. Sometimes you just have to unwind."
Junno doesn't say anything. When Ryo looks up he's watching him somberly, sitting bent forward, with his clasped hands loose between his knees.
Yeah. Ryo doesn't really believe that, either. Not anymore. And he still doesn't want to think about this, but there's no way to avoid it any longer.
He shakes his head and looks away. Beyond Junno, outside the window, the sky has started to lighten with the coming dawn. Ryo doesn't even know what hour of the morning it is anymore, but the pale, grey light makes the slice of cityscape beyond look bleak and hopeless, merciless. Cold.
Uchi isn't going to be coming back to work... not anytime soon. Maybe not ever.
Ryo thinks he may have known all along.
"You, uhm. Should probably go home and get some sleep or something."
"I'm okay," Junno says, and smiles with sudden, incongruous sweetness.
Ryo has to look down again because his chest feels tight and his breathing's unsteady. Gods, it's been a long day. He's tired; *he* should get some sleep.
"Thanks," he mumbles, forcing the words out without looking at Junno. "You know. For helping with Uchi. And stuff."
Junno just nods.
Sometime soon, Ryo will ask about Junno's partner, the one who was killed. But not today. Today, they watch the sun come up together in silence.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
"*That* was with Nakamaru's equipment?" Ryo's voice tries to get away from him on the 'that', but he catches it in time and covers up the near-squeak nicely.
Though... considering the sidelong look and wickedly amused grin Junno gives him, maybe not.
"You didn't check out the boxes on the bottom?"
He had – he just hadn't paid enough attention to this particular mass of chains and leather to realize exactly what it was. It all started to blur together after the tenth set of cuffs, harnesses, chains, straps, ropes, hogties, leashes, hobbles and restraining bars. Not to mention that hook thing that Ryo hadn't been able to make sense of until he'd read the helpfully included instructions. (And, seriously. So not going there.)
Nakamaru is having way too much fun with this assignment. They have more equipment than a fetish shop at this point.
Ryo doesn't have a name to put to this particular bit of equipment, but with Junno holding it up like that, its purpose is immediately obvious. The chain with the sturdier links goes around the hips. Slightly more delicate, but still very robust chains connect it to a cage-like contraption of leather bands and steel rings; this, in turn, is an extension of an elaborate cock ring. It's clear the entire construction fits around a cock and balls. Another strip of leather leads back from the cage part, widening into a flap that can only be meant to hold in a butt plug before looping up to the hip chain.
Ryo doesn't have any idea what kind of expression he's wearing, but Junno gives him an odd look. "This is harmless, compared to the dungeon tour. You didn't turn a hair at that."
Yeah, well. He'd been in character then. And distracted.
And it's not so much the cock cage itself as the idea of Junno putting it on.
It's been hard, not touching Junno. Ryo's body has gotten used to being allowed the freedom of Junno's body with lightning speed, and now his hands keep trying to wander. When Junno bent forward over the table just now Ryo wanted to cup a hand to the exposed nape of his neck, run his fingers through the soft hair. Kneel down behind him and put his lips to –
*Gods* this is going to be a long assignment.
"So you're going to wear that."
Junno gives him another look. "Nah, let's just keep wearing tight pants and cuddle. That'll be sure to impress the natives."
"Fuck you," Ryo says lightly, and is then washed by an icy flash of something like shock, and really wishes he had kept his mouth shut.
But Junno just grins and turns back to the thing. "Don't worry, that shouldn't be necessary. I figure we get trapped out properly, play around a little with the patrons, turn up the heat – and then retire to a private room. Afterwards, we emerge suitably wrecked and hang out in the lounge for a while to mingle. That strategy should hold us for a while."
It's a good plan. It's the only plan that makes sense. There's no reason they should do anything different, anything more; not everyone is into no-holds-barred exhibitionism, not even every gay BDSM afficionado. Not to mention that doing more would be unfitting. They're cops, after all.
Suddenly Ryo wishes Uchi were still his partner for an all-new bunch of reasons. With Uchi, he could have done this, easy. It would all have stayed nice and safe and professional. Ryo could have kept his mind on the job – sure, he'd probably have ogled some of the other patrons, but that's expected, part of the cover. He wouldn't have had these problems, wouldn't have *wanted* things –
"Should we put our gear together and do a dress rehearsal?" Junno grins. "We don't want to cock it up!"
Ryo tries not to laugh – it just encourages Junno – but doesn't quite manage. To compensate, he rolls his eyes and shoots Junno a look of sorely tried patience before nodding his agreement. They do need to rehearse; they can't go in cold and then fumble beneath dozens of avidly watching eyes.
They pick out pants for Ryo first – if you can call them pants, since they're in three separate parts. He has to pull on the legs individually and buckle them around his hips with an attached belt; the crotch part is fastened to the belt and legs with shiny silver snaps, from the front all the way around to the back. It's all in black leather, of course – what else.
At first Ryo thinks Nakamaru got his size wrong; the thing hugs his cock and balls so tightly that it's desperately uncomfortable for a minute. Once Ryo gets used to it, though, it fits like a second skin – and it'll probably be a little more comfortable still without underwear. Definitely not an outfit to relax in, though. Not one to run or jump or make any sudden moves in, either, or he'll become an involuntary flasher.
Junno disappears into the bathroom with an armful of stuff. Ryo finds shiny, knee-high boots and a studded belt with countless small D-rings to attach equipment to; he also finds some carabiners to hang from it, but postpones the real equipment question for when Junno is back.
Once Ryo's snapped on leather wristbands and matching bands for his upper arms, he's pretty much done. He puts on eyeliner – which he's getting scarily good at – and oils his chest and arms, and when he looks into the mirror on his closet door, he looks pretty much exactly like half the guys in the Ragaraja. Still something missing, though...
After some thought, he shrugs on one of the small vests – the one with straps and buckles across the chest. Yes, that's perfect.
The leather feels weird on his oiled skin, not exactly slippery, but... well, odd. Ryo will leave the oil off, then. But maybe... there's a small carton of fake nipple piercings somewhere. Ryo can't find it right now, but he'll ask Junno.
He poses a little, scowling as sexily as he can manage, and flexes his muscles – not bad, if he does say so himself – and then Junno slaps his ass hard and makes him jump. "Move over, butch. No hogging the mirror."
Junno's taken off his t-shirt and changed into a different pair of jeans. They hang low enough to skirt the line of indecency and cling tight in all the right places, but they're still jeans. Ryo has already opened his mouth to protest this rampant unfairness when his mind processes the sight of the chain draped around Junno's hips, riding just a centimeter or two above the jeans' low waist.
When Ryo's gaze traces the smaller chains that descend from it to the waistband and below, he can see the cock cage, outlined clearly against the worn denim at Junno's groin and thigh. He can even see the steel ring at the tip of it, the soft curve that may just be a shadow or a –
"I liked the contrast in the middle of all that leather and PVC," Junno says. "And hey, we can't go wrong with taking a cue from an Ohkura, right? In this case, I mean. Not generally."
"Uh," says Ryo. "Right. Yeah. Sure."
Junno thrusts out a hip exaggeratedly. "The top chain closes at the sides, and you can detach all of the chains and other parts separately. There are two snaps to the cock cage, and another for the actual cock ring. The butt plug holder comes off separately, too. It's all a little tricky to get sorted when putting it on, but fast and easy to take off."
"Of course." Ryo's voice is a little rough, maybe, but hey.
He doesn't think about it; he just looks. He doesn't think as he puts his hands on Junno's hips and Junno turns demurely and pliantly to show off the back view, either. He doesn't think at all.
They decide to go all the way with the "debauched innocence" look for Junno, as a contrast to Ryo's buckles and leather. Barefoot, with those jeans showing off the chain around his slim hips. Bondage cuffs and a white dress shirt hanging all the way open, showing off the collar around his throat…
"Hang on – try this." Ryo clips a short lead to the collar's ring. The lead – black leather, of course – hangs down to about a hand's width above Junno's navel.
It should look silly, a man wearing a collar and a leash. But it doesn't. Not at all.
"Not bad." Junno turns thoughtfully in front of the mirror, willowy and winsome. "We should pass muster, don't you think?"
"Yeah," says Ryo, and hooks his thumbs deeper into the tool belt, preventing his hands from straying. "I think we will."
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Falling into the role is always an inner shift of some kind, but the exact nature of the shift changes, depending on the undercover assignment. This time… this time, it's something completely new. Because most of all, walking through the Ragaraja's door – duffel bag of fetish gear in hand – is a relief.
It's like inner bonds loosening and falling away. Ryo wants to touch Junno, and so he does – he puts his free hand to the small of Junno's back, flat against cotton and warm skin, just like that. When he slides his hand down into Junno's back pocket, Junno leans into the touch.
More than anything, Ryo feels light. Light and free and alive.
Two guys they met briefly last time are leaning against the bar right next to the entrance, checking out everyone who walks through the door. They exchange greetings while Ryo pulls Junno in closer; Junno fits surprisingly well against his side.
"You guys playing tonight?" asks the dom – Tsubasa. He's not that much taller than Ryo, but he manages to make much of the size difference anyway, straightening very slowly and demonstratively looking over first Junno and then Ryo.
Junno steps away at Ryo's nudge and nod, pausing briefly to stretch with casual sensuality. Tsubasa's eyes flick up at him when Junno leans against the bar to wave down the bartender.
So much for superior height, huh?
When Tsubasa looks back at Ryo, Ryo catches his gaze and smiles, slowly. "Definitely, one way or another. How about you?"
"Nothing planned… but I could be persuaded," Tsubasa says, and lowers his eyes.
Huh. Unexpected – Ryo didn't know people switched this suddenly. But the situation itself isn't surprising, or new, for that matter.
He takes his time, checking Tsubasa out very thoroughly. The man leans back against the bar and spreads his legs a little to make sure Ryo doesn't miss anything. He's actually fairly conservatively dressed, for this place, but the tight pants still make sure Ryo knows the scrutiny is appreciated.
Ryo reaches out slowly enough that Tsubasa can dodge, if he wants. He doesn't, and so Ryo puts a finger on his chin, tips his head back and to the side. Tsubasa closes his eyes partway and moves easily at Ryo's cue; next to him, Hideaki shifts closer and puts a suddenly bold hand on Tsubasa's stomach.
Junno just watches, Ryo's orange juice in hand.
"You'd look good collared." Ryo runs a slow finger down Tsubasa's bare neck, and the man exhales audibly. "I have other plans tonight, but I hope the offer stands."
It's their sixth offer for group sex since they joined the club. They must be doing something right.
They don't linger; Ryo tosses back half the juice and then hands the glass to Junno, who drinks the rest.
Junno shoots him a speaking glance when they get to the locker room. No-one else is around, so Ryo relaxes his stance a little as he kicks off his sneakers. "What?"
"His offer isn't the only thing that's standing," Junno says, and snickers.
Ryo rolls his eyes and tosses his duffel on one of the benches by the wall of lockers. "Keep making cheap dirty jokes like that in here and you'll be too busy to do anything else."
Junno grins at him unrepentantly as he disappears into one of the private cubicles.
A couple of other patrons come in while Ryo's still trying sort out the mess of buckles and straps in the duffel. They ignore each other politely – like the showers, this is a "backstage" zone for preparing rather than playing, and different rules apply.
With practice, getting into the pants is actually pretty simple, and the rest of his costume isn't much work, so Ryo's almost done by the time Junno comes back out.
Junno's been wearing the collar since they got out of the car, but the effect is different now, with a business-like, starched white shirt falling open around it. It really is an effective contrast. Junno's rolled up the shirt's sleeves and tugged it back far enough on his shoulders that it frames the lithe muscles of his chest and stomach rather than concealing anything... and the silver chain lies around his waist, drawing Ryo's gaze irresistibly.
Ryo presses the last snap on his wristband closed and concentrates on stowing his bag in an available locker.
When he turns back around, Junno's kneeling at his feet, head down, holding up something with both hands. Ryo takes it automatically – it's only once he's stared at the thing for a moment that he realizes it's a remote control. It has a tiny screen, an on/off button, another button marked "interval", and + and – buttons labeled "vibration".
Junno meets Ryo's gaze for just a moment. He's not smiling, but somehow, weirdly, he manages to look as though he's grinning on the inside.
A small surge of mingled annoyance and – yes – arousal rushes through Ryo. What the fuck, seriously. If Junno can wear a harness around his cock and stick a remote-controlled vibrator up his ass, then Ryo can sure as hell hold on to the damned remote. It's not like Ryo hasn't been pulling his weight on this investigation so far, is it?
They're going to have words about this later. For now, Ryo just stows the remote away in one of the small pockets he's attached to his tool belt.
He isn't going to use the thing, of course, but his imagination insists on painting an image of what Junno would look like if he did. Flushed and helpless with lust, eyes glazed with desire but steady on Ryo's, hungry –
Gods. He's sure off to a great start.
When he looks up again, Junno is holding out something else to him, head once again humbly bowed. A wrist cuff.
Someone else comes in, or walks out; Ryo isn't sure and doesn't care. He can't spare any attention right now.
He brushes aside the offered cuff and takes Junno's wrist instead. Junno moves pliantly when Ryo tugs him a little closer; his hand lies relaxed in Ryo's hold, fingers curling loosely towards the palm.
Ryo presses his thumbs firmly into the middle of Junno's palm, rubs down slowly to the wrist. There's a lot of strength locked away in the hard muscle and sinew, and it's odd how much Ryo enjoys feeling it – how much he enjoys this simple touch.
Or maybe it's not so odd, considering. He's wanted – he wants to touch Junno, and he can, now. More than that: Now, he's supposed to.
It feels like freedom... feels like joy.
When Ryo kneads the heel of Junno's hand on the way back up to the palm, Junno's fingers spread in what seems like an involuntary motion; when Ryo looks at Junno's face, he's watching Ryo's hold on his hand, looking vaguely surprised.
Ryo didn't plan this, but he's not surprised. Instead, he feels like he's waking up – an electric prickle of relief, awareness, anticipation coursing through him.
He reaches out and Junno hands him the cuff immediately, as smoothly as though they'd practiced this. Ryo fastens it loosely around Junno's wrist and slides a finger underneath, makes sure the padding is lying smooth before pulling the buckles tight.
By the time the second cuff goes on, Junno looks thoughtful, or maybe speculative. Ryo has barely enough time to wonder about this before Junno hands him the last two cuffs and straddles the bench in front of Ryo. He lies back, legs spread; his eyes are meekly downcast, and when he lifts one denim-clad leg into Ryo's grip he turns his head to the side in patently fake shyness.
Shameless.
Ryo smiles at him. Junno doesn't smile back, but arches his back a little in enticement. He's crossed his wrists on the bench just above his head, and the shirt has fallen away from his body; his free leg is sprawled loosely to the side, leading the gaze inevitably to his groin. To the bulge of his cock.
Shameless, yeah, but – it works. It looks... it just *works*, Junno makes it work, all lithe sleek muscle and poise, even like this. Improbably long legs and the way his mouth quirks a tiny bit, and the way his lowered lashes fan against his cheek for a mere moment before he looks up at Ryo again with wide eyes.
There's a moment when Ryo's thumbs push into the soft sole of Junno's foot and Junno makes a sound like the tiniest of sighs... a moment when Ryo's mouth dries and his gut tightens, and he wonders what Junno would sound like if Ryo touched him elsewhere, and where Ryo would put his hands first.
He closes the cuff around Junno's ankle and pushes Junno's foot down. A held-out hand, and Junno obediently lifts his other leg into Ryo's grasp. This time Ryo runs his thumbs up the sides of the ankle, digging into sinews and muscle. Toes flex against his hip as Junno stills on the bench, mouth softening, opening slightly to admit a deep breath. Ryo repeats the move and then slides his touch up a little further, digs in a little more, and Junno takes in a second breath, lets his already cuffed leg fall further to the side in a gesture that's impossible to read as anything but an invitation.
Ryo fastens the last cuff and pushes Junno's foot off his hip, turns back to the locker –
"Interesting," says the man standing a couple of lockers down. He's wearing a sober, dark grey business suit and is very tall, and Ryo doesn't have time to notice much more than that before he goes on. "You really think it's a good idea to seduce your sub? You shouldn't pamper him. He's far too spoiled."
What. The. Fuck.
Arousal retreats before a burning wash of incredulous anger. Ryo knows he should probably be worried, or wondering whether he's made them look suspicious. But what the fuck! What the hell does this guy think he's doing, interfering like this? Who the fuck does he think he is to comment on Ryo's methods?
"I don't remember asking for your opinion." Ryo's voice is very flat and very cold; even someone who doesn't know him should have no problems getting the message. "I'll handle my sub exactly the way I see fit."
The guy comes closer, something that can only be called a smirk playing around his mouth. Ryo might think he was attractive if he weren't such an ass, and the realization only adds to Ryo's anger – just like the fact that even in what is obviously an extremely expensive suit, the bastard manages to look right at home in the Ragaraja's dressing room.
Belatedly, Ryo realizes that he knows this man, knows who he is. He's yakuza – Nakamura Toru, one of the highest-ranking lieutenants in the Sugiura Ikka. Certainly fits his fucking attitude, and doesn't exactly make Ryo more disposed to put up with his shit.
Yakuza Asshole looks down at Junno and Junno drops his gaze and goes still, like a small animal faced with a stalking predator. All of a sudden it hits Ryo how vulnerable Junno looks, stretched out and exposed with his wrists crossed over his head and his legs spread open, stretched wide to either side of the bench. His chest and stomach are bare, the shirt hanging uselessly off the sides of the bench; his pants do nothing to conceal anything at all.
"Get down and kneel," says Nakamura, quietly but very firmly – a tone of command that expects to be obeyed without question.
Ryo stares at the gangster in disbelief. This is so far over the line –
Junno doesn't move.
"Did you not hear me?" Now the asshole's words lash out like a whip, sharp and with cutting force.
Junno's eyes snap up and fix on the yakuza's face. "I heard you."
His voice is soft and almost entirely without inflection. Ryo has never heard him sound like this; it sets off a clamor of warnings in his head that – fuck. This is not going anywhere good, they have to get out of this fucking mess right the fuck now –
"Then kneel. *Now.*"
'Red,' shoots through Ryo's head. If Junno says the default safeword then they can end this, surely – they can stop this before it turns into something else.
Junno smiles and opens his mouth and says, simply and calmly, "no."
Which is when Ryo recognizes the look in Junno's eyes. He's seen it once before, but not like this – caught just a glimpse when Junno told him about his partner, when he told him he could be patient, he wouldn't forget.
And Ryo realizes, with a sudden sinking shock almost like falling, that he has never thought to wonder which yakuza clan murdered Junno's partner, or if there was a special reason why he transferred to central Tokyo in particular.
Yokohama and Tokyo, the classic territory of the Inagawa-kai... such as the Sugiura Ikka. Which is led by Old Dragon Nakamura with his oldest grandson as his right hand.
*Fuck.*
No, Ryo never thought. He didn't think, and the result is that now, he's totally unprepared when Junno's going cold and hard and unfamiliar on him and Nakamura Toru is stepping forward and reaching down for his collar, presumably to drag Junno bodily off the bench. The yakuza's face is dark with anger; Junno's expression is still blank – and then his body tenses abruptly, sharply, like a steel wire just before it snaps.
Ryo moves.
He's very nearly too late. Time has slowed to a crawl, every moment unfolding in slow motion. Ryo watches as Junno knocks aside Nakamura's arm, watches Junno spin on the bench, perfectly balanced, watches him coil and kick out snake-quick. Junno's viciously fast and completely in control of the blow, and there's no way Nakamura can block or dodge in time. Ryo thinks Junno's aiming for Nakamura's chest, but he can't be sure, because by the time the attack would have connected, Ryo is in the way.
He barrels into Nakamura and knocks him back. Junno's eyes widen and Ryo's pretty sure he pulls the kick as much as he can, but it's too late; it catches Ryo squarely across the ribs, a heavy blow that spins him partway around and almost makes him stagger, makes him struggle for breath for half a second.
Then Junno is on his feet, still hardened with old rage. Nakamura is dodging around Ryo. And Ryo catches Junno's arm and spins him around and to the side, away from the yakuza; twists his arm up behind his back –
Another thing Ryo never thought to find out is how good Junno is at hand-to-hand combat, and gods, Ryo *so* does not need this to be the time he finds out he's been thrown together with some kind of martial arts champion.
There's no time, so Ryo does it quick and dirty. He tugs Junno's arm up further, makes him follow the movement and give up his balance, and then forces him over simply by catching him around the stomach, bending him forward and folding him down with Ryo draped all over his back. But Junno tries to twist to the side and this has to be over quick, has to be over right the fuck *now*.
Ryo's fingers find the right pocket on automatic. He fumbles for only half a second before he finds the + button, kicks up the power all the way to the top and then hits 'on'.
Underneath him, Junno jerks and makes an involuntary, guttural sound, almost like he's been shot. Ryo can hear the vibrator – it's loud, louder even than their harsh breaths. He can feel the damn thing too, second-hand vibrations climbing up his groin and stomach where he's pressed against Junno. Fuck, that thing is –
He turns it off again almost immediately, but it has served its purpose. Junno has stilled, the only remaining movement his breathing.
"Junno," Ryo barks. "Look at me."
For a moment Ryo has no idea which way this will go, but then Junno turns his head as far as he can and looks at Ryo. The flat coldness is gone from his eyes; it's Junno again, he's *there* again, thank all the gods, because Ryo could not do this alone. He just couldn't.
"Enough," he says softly.
Junno never looks away from Ryo; his gaze doesn't even flicker beyond him to where Nakamura is standing. Finally, he lowers his eyes and relaxes, becomes pliant and unresisting in the curve of Ryo's body. "Master," he whispers.
Ryo draws back. Junno remains huddled with his forehead resting on the ground, hair brushing the floor. When Ryo lets go of his arm, he keeps it twisted up behind his back, almost exactly where Ryo had held it. It looks painful, so Ryo strokes along Junno's back and gently pushes it down.
He doesn't know what he expects Junno to do instead, but it's not to cross his cuffed wrists at the small of his back, leather to leather.
The almost inaudibly quiet click of D-rings touching seems to echo in Ryo's ears.
"Nobody touches him without my permission." Cold anger may not usually be Ryo's forte, but right now, the ice burning in his chest makes it easy. "Next time I'm not stopping him. Keep your hands to yourself."
Several moments pass while Ryo and Nakamura lock stares, neither willing to give ground. And then, entirely without warning, Nakamura breaks into a bark of laughter, and his expression shifts into an odd, superior kind of amusement. "You have him attack other doms?"
"He's mine." Not really an answer – but then Ryo doesn't have to answer the guy's questions. It's more than enough; certainly far more courtesy than he deserves after his fucking unbelievable presumption.
Nakamura eyes him for another couple of moments. Ryo's eyeballs are beginning to dry out, but he'll be damned if he blinks first.
The door to the dressing room opens. There's a pause before it closes again, but nobody comes in.
At the sound of the closing door, Ryo and Nakamura look over to the entrance, both at the same time. It's almost like they planned it that way, and in a way, Ryo guesses they did – if Nakamura hadn't looked, Ryo wouldn't have, and the other way around. This way it's a tie, with no face lost on either side.
There's another heavy pause. Ryo can't say he cares for the speculative look that's come over Nakamura, or the way he's eyeing Junno.
Junno... who isn't moving at all. One leg of his jeans has ridden up, exposing the cuff on his left ankle.
In a weird way, the curve of Junno's body is strangely elegant. The way he's sitting on his heels pushes out the spare roundness of his ass, cheeks parted slightly more than they would be if not for the strap running between them. Holding him open, holding a vibrator inside of him that Ryo can –
"How does someone go about obtaining your permission?"
It's a long moment before Ryo can put the remark in context, and then, he doesn't know how to open his mouth without saying *no fucking chance, you asshole, not one chance in hell*.
Not even if Nakamura'd introduced himself some other way than insulting Ryo and trying to order Junno around. Not even if this had all been real instead of an undercover gig. Not him. He'd try to break Junno, try to force him to submit when the entire point is that the submission is willing, voluntary. Control handed over, not ripped away. Trust, not force.
Ryo manages not to say it, even though he wants to, even though he can almost taste the words on his tongue. But he hasn't quite forgotten that they're not here for fun and giggles... and he does realize that it isn't the brightest idea to alienate the biggest boss in the joint.
More than absolutely necessary, at least.
"Depends on the person."
It boils down to the same thing as the words Ryo didn't say, and Ryo can tell Nakamura gets that by the way his mouth tightens. Ryo can't deny the bastard's irritation gives him a small but fierce jolt of satisfaction. So the fucking yakuza princeling isn't used to commoners giving him attitude, is he?
"Junno," Ryo says quietly. "Come here."
Junno rocks back onto his heels and rolls gracefully to his feet, walks over with a measured pace that seems practiced. He stops just in front of Ryo with his head lowered, eyes politely downcast.
Close enough to touch. So Ryo does – he reaches out and puts a hand on Junno's cheek, and Junno leans into the touch. When Ryo trails fingers down his jaw, he lifts his chin and turns his head a little, offering his neck and throat. Or maybe presenting the collar.
The feeling in Ryo's chest is hot and tight; he doesn't try to resist the impulse that rises within him. He hooks a finger into the collar's front D-ring and pulls, and Junno bends down easily.
Ryo takes his mouth without finesse. Junno's warm and willing; he doesn't pull back, doesn't try to control the kiss, just follows Ryo's lead. Lets himself be touched, stretches like a cat being petted when Ryo runs his free hand down his back. Strong muscles beneath thin cotton, and then Ryo grabs a handful of fabric and pulls the shirt up out of the way and touches skin instead. Warm, soft skin, and the body-warm metal chain circling Junno's hips.
Ryo fingers the chain for a moment, toying with the links. When he pulls at it ever so slightly, Junno's breathing hitches.
"Kneel," Ryo says, softly.
Junno kneels, folds down gracefully right where he stands – no hesitation, no reluctance, nothing except immediate, ungrudging compliance.
That he ends up with his face centimeters from Ryo's groin isn't the point of this exercise, or not in itself, and Ryo doesn't let it distract him. Not really, not in any way that matters. He doesn't wonder whether Junno would actually suck his cock, for example. Because right now Ryo's actually pretty sure he would, and that it would be...
It would be over the line, that's what. That's something Ryo's completely sure of, that it's not okay to get your partner to give you a blowjob when there's no way for him to refuse because you're undercover in a gay BDSM club and there's a yakuza dickhead watching who likes to play around with other people's subs.
But touching is fine. Touching is part of the cover, necessary. So Ryo lets his fingers do what they want to do, reaches out and threads them through Junno's hair at his nape, trails them along the side of his neck and the soft underside of his jaw. Tips up his chin, meets his clear, steady gaze. Rubs his thumb over Junno's lips again just to feel their heat and softness, to watch them part slightly under Ryo's touch.
"Message received," someone says.
Ryo blinks at the yakuza dickhead, and the yakuza dickhead smiles at him. It's a cold, hungry smile, the kind of expression Ryo imagines a snake would wear while contemplating a particularly interesting mouse.
"It'd be far too soft for me, your... method." There's more than a hint of mockery there, too, mixed in with the hunger and the superiority. Nakamura doesn't look away as he shrugs out of his suit jacket, snagging a hanger out of an open locker. "Guess I'm a traditional kind of guy."
Always with their travesty of tradition, that fucking scum. Ryo draws in a breath, but Junno puts down a hand on his foot in a pointed kind of way and Ryo just exhales and looks down, into Junno's steady gaze.
Junno's hair is tousled, falling into his face, but it looks good; it suits him, makes him seem... touchable. With the light at this angle, the glossy coal black strands seem no darker than his eyes.
Black, bottomless eyes that drop to Ryo's belt and then up to his face again, a clear prompt for Ryo to do – something.
He looks down at his belt. At the lead he hasn't gotten around to attaching to Junno's collar yet.
They're all set; street clothes and everything else that belongs to the world outside the Ragaraja locked away, all trapped out in their prepared outfits, ready to go. Ryo unclips the lead from his belt and attaches it to Junno's collar, slips the short loop around his wrist and draws Junno up.
Nakamura's undone his tie and tossed it in a locker. Now he's starting to open his belt; he's still watching them, and it's clear that he's issuing some kind of challenge, even if Ryo has no idea what the challenge is supposed to be.
Whatever – he could care less. Ryo's through with this asshole; he just sneers and turns on his heel without another word. The lead is still wound around his wrist, and Junno shadows him soundlessly.
High time they get out of this damn dressing room and get on with the evening.
There's a line of around twenty people waiting in front of the door. When Ryo and Junno walk out, the guys in front – a wiry guy with a sharp, pointy face and a muscle-bound thug with a nose that's been broken at least once who practically screams "street-level yakuza" – peer hopefully past them into the dressing room, as though Nakamura might have magically vanished into thin air, leaving the coast clear.
Some doms. Losers.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Ryo heads straight across the hall to the dance floor. If there's one place in this club where they're safe from being overheard, it's there. It's impossible to so much as hear yourself think over the deafening synthetic heartbeat of the club-issue techno-dance-mix; nobody could bug that place.
Later, once they get out of the Ragaraja, Ryo's going to sit Junno down for a good long talk about clans and transfers and revenge. And hand-to-hand combat, and how he is at shooting, and what kind of instant ramen he prefers, and – lots of stuff.
Now, he just has to know one thing.
They submerge in the mass of lights and sound and men as though dipping into an ocean. It's dark; the beat throbs underneath Ryo's feet and in the air all around, echoed by the sea of moving bodies. Staccato lights slice everything into split-second impressions that melt into a whole of sound and motion. Flashing colors on bare skin and lacquer, men's faces; black leather glowing blue and green and red and white. Silver piercings and studs and D-rings and chains. Sex.
No sex on the dance floor, that's one of the rules, but it's all around anyway in the faces and bodies, the hungry eyes, the grinding hips and writhing bodies.
They find a rhythm together immediately. Junno's hips fit perfectly into Ryo's palms; when Ryo pulls him in just a little, Junno's hands settle lightly on his shoulders. He bends his head when Ryo tugs, and his hair brushes Ryo's cheek, tickles his lips.
"Was it him?" It's just short of being a shout, and even so Ryo can't hear himself over the music. His mouth grazes Junno's ear, and for an instant Junno's hands tighten on his shoulders – or maybe he's just imagining it.
He doesn't imagine the considering look Junno gives him when Ryo draws back a little, the slight pause before he shakes his head 'no', shakes back his hair and gives a little shimmy almost like a shrug. *I just hate those bastards* is what Ryo reads it as.
The surge of relief is ridiculously strong; for a moment Ryo is almost giddy with it. Losing your temper because some yakuza asshole lets his entitlement hang out and you hate those bastards... Hell, Ryo gets that. You can't always keep it bottled up, and they managed to turn it around, so. It's nothing at all like walking into a place knowing the reigning yakuza boss arranged the murder of your old partner, and not ever warning your – the guy you're working with now. That... Ryo doesn't know if he could have dealt with that.
Ryo's grip on Junno's hips has tightened. The throbbing beat and the lights wash past them, through them, and Ryo realizes it's been a very long time since he's last gone dancing.
He hadn't known he'd missed it.
"I'm really sorry," Junno mouthes. His voice is inaudible, but the words are clear on his lips, and Ryo can read their meaning in the flicker of Junno's eyes towards his ribs. Ryo's side does ache a little, now that the adrenalin has worn off; chances are he's going to have a spectacular bruise tomorrow. But it's not like it's a big deal.
He shrugs and mumbles "whatever", and that earns him a sudden, radiant smile that lights Junno up from the inside out, making him look –
He's let go of Junno before he remembers he doesn't have to.
Junno takes it as a cue – throws himself into the beat, body melting into the rhythm, becoming sinuous temptation. He never looks away from Ryo; his lips are still quirked up, eyes shining, and Ryo can't resist the invitation. Doesn't want to.
He hasn't danced like this in a long time. Maybe not ever, not like this, because it's not the rhythm pounding through him or the exhilaration of losing himself in it that makes his blood heat, his breath catch and his world narrow to a single focus.
Junno dances like he's having sex, like he's fucking the music, or being fucked by it. He's smiling when he turns to look back at Ryo over one shoulder, and his hips – his ass – all of him...
They have more space to themselves than before, and when Ryo manages to look away for a moment, he finds that some of the men around them are watching. The lights flash green, red, white, blue, yellow, strafing over interest, hunger, lust; sex is like a cloying syrup over everything, inescapable. But no-one touches without invitation. The rules are clear.
No-one except Ryo. Ryo's allowed.
The realization is fierce, joyful, and Ryo doesn't think, just grabs Junno's hips, hauls him in tight. Junno comes willingly, spreads his legs and dips, and then his ass snugs against Ryo's groin and he pushes back into Ryo, and – oh.
Ryo's hard; can't remember when he hasn't been.
He spreads a hand over the base of Junno's throat, right underneath the collar. Junno's pulse beats strong and fast against Ryo's palm, and he puts his head back at the touch. Hot, solid and pliant, grinding against Ryo's front, music thrumming around them like a heartbeat. Firm muscles move beneath Ryo's touch as he drags his hand down; swings his hips in a circle, just to feel Junno follow, to push his cock tighter against Junno's ass. Sensation thrills through him sharp and sweet; he can't hear himself, but he knows he makes some kind of sound.
The chain circling Junno's hips slides underneath his fingertips, rolls away; he chases it, rubs it over heated skin, tugs it up to the end of its play. Junno shudders, arches into him just a fraction out of time with the music, and, yes, oh, that's...
He keeps the chain pulled taut and when he looks, Junno's eyes are closed, his face lifted to the ceiling. Shards of shadow fall across his cheeks, cutting through the flashes of light. His mouth is opened slightly, and Ryo can't remember ever seeing anyone so alluring.
He needs to have more of him, touch him more, get closer; they're not close enough, nowhere near. Nowhere near, so he locks his free arm around Junno's middle and swivels again, and Junno's ass is tight and perfect against him, Ryo's erection sliding between Junno's buttocks. Hard muscle and friction and pressure, and the heat in Ryo's gut flares wildly, splintering into fire, and yes, that's so good, so good but still not –
Another tug on the chain and Junno loses the rhythm entirely, just pushes into Ryo. His shiver trembles against Ryo's cock and stomach and chest, everywhere he's pressed against Junno, everywhere. It makes the breath rasp in his throat, makes him want –
Ryo turns his face into Junno's throat, noses at the collar, licks a slow stripe up the side of his neck to his ear. Hot skin and the subtle scent of Junno, and when the chain drops from Ryo's fingers and his hand slides down over bare skin and onto denim, Junno is hard as rock beneath his palm.
Junno doesn't quite thrust into Ryo's hand but it's a close thing. Ryo shapes his hand around the caged erection – striped with unyielding steel rings and leather bands that Ryo can feel surprisingly well through thin denim. Unfamiliar, but when Ryo slides down Junno's length to the base and up again, squeezes carefully, Junno's abs tense, and the weight along Ryo's front grows heavier.
Another slide down, and Junno spreads his legs further. His balls are pushed forward by the cage, and if Ryo rubs down just a little he can feel the strip between them, around them. Or maybe it's his imagination, that's possible too because, gods, because...
Ryo opens his eyes – when did he close them? – and looks straight into the face of a stranger, a dozen strangers watching him and Junno. Right now he couldn't care less; he needs to get to somewhere where he can push Junno down and get him out of his clothes and touch and feel and taste all he wants, *have* –
He hardly notices leaving the dance floor, doesn't know how they get to the salon. It's not important – not as important as the hardness of Junno's arm in his grip, the open desire in Junno's gaze, the bereft coldness all along Ryo's chest and hips and cock. The relief of finally, finally finding somewhere to do this properly, grabbing Junno and half shoving, half pulling him down on the first unoccupied sofa in their path.
Not as important as touching Junno again at last… the way everything inside Ryo unwinds and relaxes and comes into focus, centered on Junno sprawled beneath him on the cushions.
Endlessly long legs spread open for Ryo to kneel between. Slim hips perfectly shaped for Ryo's hands. Wide-set eyes that meet Ryo's, and no sign of the too-broad grin...
A quick almost-smile quirks up the corners of the lips; the wide dark eyes burn into Ryo's. Desire, focussed on Ryo with an intensity that takes his breath away.
It feels like he's starved for this, starved for Junno.
Ryo draws slow hands down Junno's chest, glorying in the feel of silken skin and solid muscle. Junno draws in a deep, unsteady breath, and Ryo pauses to feel his chest expand underneath his spread fingers; curves his hands down over Junno's sides and sweeps his thumbs along his ribs.
Junno swallows, and the movement draws Ryo's eye. He can't resist, doesn't try, just bends down to taste the hollow at the base of Junno's throat – salt and leather and the thrum of Junno's heartbeat, fast and heavy – and then shifts, slides down to set his teeth around one of Junno's nipples, teases it with the tip of his tongue.
When he bites down gently, Junno gives the tiniest gasp, breathes a "yes", arches up into Ryo, and that, yes, that's…
Ryo's lips and tongue are on saliva-wet skin, the hard nub of Junno's erect nipple in his mouth, trapped in the cage of his teeth. Beneath his cheek Junno's chest moves with his quick breathing, and Ryo has to get closer, much closer than this.
Somehow Junno's leather-bound wrists are in his hands and he drags them up, pushes them into the cushions next to Junno's head. Junno's mouth opens easily to his and then Ryo is molded to Junno, lost in his mouth and the feeling of his body, all lithe suppleness and yielding heat. Ryo's erection lies against hardness and the odd roughness of the cock cage, and when he thrusts against Junno, the two layers of fabric between them do nothing to numb the pleasure that spears through him, skewering him with need.
"Wrap your legs around me," he orders, hoarse.
Junno's legs come up to surround him before he's finished speaking. He can feel one of the ankle cuffs digging into the small of his back; when he thrusts again, Junno's legs tighten around his waist, his body rising off the cushions, pushing into Ryo.
*Yes.* Just like that – just like that –
Every fiber of his being is waking to tingling awareness, drowning in sensation. Ryo settles into a slow rhythm, and oh gods yes, that's so good – so good.
Junno's flushed and tousled and beautiful underneath him, eyes wide, locked on Ryo's. So beautiful, and Ryo runs greedy fingertips down his inner arms, along his neck, the elegant curve of his cheekbones, his mouth, his eyebrows, the small flatness on the bridge of his nose. He'd have to back off to touch him anywhere else, and he can't do that, not now – maybe in a little bit, but not right now. Right now he's too drunk on closeness and Junno and the scent of Junno's skin, the way Junno gasps out broken words like "there" and "you" and "oh", the small helpless moans he makes when you bite the tender flesh just underneath his jaw almost hard enough to hurt, and then a little harder still.
He wants to be inside him. He wants, needs –
And he remembers, with a wash of molten heat, that there is something inside Junno already, that earlier that evening Junno lubed himself up and stretched himself open and slid a vibrator inside his body.
Junno has been spread open all evening. He has to feel it every time he moves. Ryo wonders if it feels like being fucked, if Junno's felt like he was being taken all night – when Ryo was rubbing against him on the dance floor, now that his legs are wrapped around Ryo, now that he's arching his back wantonly and offering up his throat for Ryo's teeth and making tiny little gasping "yes" sounds when Ryo rubs against him, cradled in his open thighs. If it feels like Ryo is fucking him already.
Unformed, heated words bubble up in Ryo's throat, but he bites them back; they would only come out as gibberish.
Ryo has to pull back to find the remote at his belt, fumble it out of its pocket and make sure the vibration level is set to low. But it's only a moment, and then Junno's legs tighten around him again and Ryo slides a hand into Junno's hair and falls into another kiss, comes back up only so he can watch Junno's face.
It hits Junno's body as a hard jolt and makes both of them gasp. Ryo can't feel the vibration himself, but Junno's reaction is so clear that he almost imagines he does – Junno's eyes widen for the fraction of a heartbeat, and Ryo can feel the tremble that runs through him.
"Good?" The word catches oddly in Ryo's throat, refuses to be anything but a ragged whisper – but it doesn't matter, because Junno takes in a shaky breath and pushes up against him like he can't help himself, and nods once, emphatically.
Ryo thumbs up the intensity of the vibration, just for a second, and Junno arches up off the couch, mouth opening on a soundless "oh". His thighs clamp tighter around Ryo's middle, his erection pushing against Ryo's.
When Ryo reduces the power, Junno's eyes fall shut, ridiculously long lashes fanning against his cheeks. And then the tip of his tongue flicks out to moisten his lips, and… oh, gods.
Ryo takes Junno's mouth, captures that teasing enticing tongue and loses himself in a hard, demanding kiss, and the next time he turns up the vibrations he concentrates on the way Junno's hips jerk helplessly, the way the erection lying against Ryo's cock and stomach twitches, the way he moans into Ryo's mouth…
He's getting close, Ryo can tell. He's never done this with Junno before but it's obvious in the way he moves and sounds and feels, and it makes Ryo's own lust spike crazily, and –
And that's when Ryo remembers.
This is too much. This – this is too far over the line. Ryo can't –
He's forgotten, or, no, not forgotten, but... Ryo hasn't thought about the assignment – about why they're even here – since they left the dance floor. Before that, he can't remember. And now…
They're wrapped around each other with Junno's ankles crossed on Ryo's butt. Ryo's rubbing himself off against Junno and devouring his mouth and his neck and every other bit of Junno he can reach. Ryo's thumb is on the remote that controls the vibrator inside Junno and he's –
There's no way this falls within the category of activities necessary to establish a realistic cover.
They planned this. Yes, that's – they talked about this, about what – Ryo remembers now. Remembers that this is –
He sits back.
It feels like he's leaving some vital part of himself behind, his entire body screaming in protest. Junno's legs fall away from him with a delay that probably isn't as long as Ryo imagines, and the look in Junno's eyes probably isn't the same kind of reluctance that Ryo's feeling, and – fuck, Ryo really needs to get a grip.
"We're," Ryo starts, and stops to clear his throat before going on. He sounds wrecked, almost like he's been screaming. "We're getting a room. Now."
No protest. Well, of course not. This is the plan, and besides, Junno is the sub, and – fuck it, Ryo can't think right now. He just clings to the faint notion of the path he's going to follow and pushes back, regains his feet with hardly any wobbling at all. He reaches down to adjust himself in his pants, but there's really no way of getting comfortable with this kind of erection. At least short of tearing off the pants entirely and sliding into Junno.
Junno's flushed and disheveled, lips swollen and red, bite marks on his throat and chest, around one nipple.
So damned beautiful.
Ryo grabs the lead as Junno comes off the couch, winds his fingers around the blood-warm leather. He can't help but trace the mark on Junno's chest, running a light touch along the outline his teeth have left. Junno gasps when Ryo rubs the nipple itself, breath hitching, and Ryo stops before it's too late – traces a line between Junno's pectorals instead, down his lean stomach. Runs the tip of an index finger around his bellybutton.
It's probably weird that he's touching Junno like this, though. Ryo's meant to be on the verge of fucking him, after all. And if he was really going to do that – if he was going to take Junno into one of the private rooms, lay him out on an orgy-sized bed and strip him naked and have him spread his thighs for Ryo, if Ryo was going to sink balls-deep into him, fuck Junno hard and fast and deep the way he's aching to – gods, if Ryo really had been only minutes away from that, then the gods knew he would not be standing here fingering Junno's bellybutton and running a thumb across the chain leading down to his caged cock.
So he makes himself stop touching, turns instead and pulls Junno along between the tables and couches. Everywhere he looks there are men fucking and men watching others fuck and men waiting their turn. Sick urgency shivers in Ryo's stomach, lust runs fever-bright through his veins, and he could, he could – but when Ryo stares at the naked skin and black leather and studs on display everywhere and tries to be interested, tries to be interested in anything at all except the man at the end of the lead in his hand...
At least when they get to the room he can jerk off in peace.
Except that there's a guy in the combination of leather Ryo has come to recognize as Ragaraja employee-wear standing in front of the door to the hall.
"Ryo-san, Junno-san," he says, with incongruous politeness. "You are invited to the main dungeon – the large sling has been reserved for your use, for as long as you wish to play. Please enjoy yourselves."
For a moment, Ryo just blinks at him. The man has a round face with chubby chipmunk-cheeks; the beard stubble on his upper lip is twice as dark as that on his jaw. His eyes are exactly on a level with Ryo's, but he never quite meets Ryo's stare.
"We didn't make a reservation for anything," Junno says from half a step behind Ryo. He's hoarse and breathless and sounds like he should be gasping out Ryo's name, like – "We're about to get a room."
Nothing in the man's gaze changes; he never even looks at Junno. "Ryo-san, I am instructed to tell you that a firm touch on the reins will only make your pet more appreciative of kindness."
Realization comes with a distant wave of anger, numbed and muted by the immediacy of his arousal. When Ryo turns, he finds the bastard right away, standing at the bar at the other end of the salon, drink in hand. No less than three nearly naked young men linger demurely nearby, a fourth crouched at his feet.
Nakamura looks just at home in head-to-toe leather as he did in the suit. No bare skin for him; of course not. Ryo's willing to bet three months' wages there's a dragon coiled all around the bastard's back and chest and down his arms. Probably a samurai too, or at least swords.
He lifts his glass to Ryo in a toast, smiles at him across the room.
Is this a good or a bad sign – are they being tested, or is the yakuza apologizing in his own bastard way? Is it just another expression of interest – well, it's that no matter what else it may be, but is it only that, or is it also –
"That's very thoughtful," Junno murmurs. Ryo can't detect any sarcasm in his tone, but there's definitely a note of something... weird.
When Ryo looks at Junno, Junno's looking straight back at him. He drops his eyes immediately, of course, but there's no way for Ryo to misread the prompt: *Run with it.*
Ryo can't think this through the way he needs to, not right now, not this quickly; he's still too muddled, too distracted. But he has to do something, so he looks at Junno for another moment – at Junno's hands, open and relaxed by his side.
Then, he shrugs at Nakamura's henchman, gives Nakamura himself a cold stare, and turns to stalk across the room to the dungeon's entrance. Junno follows meekly at his heels.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
"Hey, Ryo! Junno!"
Shingo and Tadayoshi lounge on a sofa just in front of the door to the main dungeon. Shingo's lounging, at any rate – Tadayoshi's more or less splayed on his dom's legs, looking debauched and languid with afterglow.
Ryo musters a smile for them, not without effort. Junno's warm against his side, Ryo's arm hooked possessively around his hips; Ryo's fingers are tangled in the chain over his stomach, and when Ryo moves his hand, he feels the weight of Junno's cock, held by the cage. More than that, he feels the shiver running through Junno, the slight unevenness in his step...
"I heard Nakamura-sama reserved the sling for you?"
News travels fast around here, doesn't it.
Ryo nods, but doesn't say anything. His tongue is thick and clumsy and he doesn't trust himself to open his mouth right now; he doesn't know what would come out.
But Shingo just grins, and doesn't bother to be secretive about checking out the state of Ryo's arousal, or Junno's half-fucked, tousled and bitten state. Tadayoshi is no subtler, and when Shingo pushes him off and gets up to amble over, Tadayoshi follows at his shoulder.
"What are you planning, then? Anything special?"
Junno snorts out a half-stifled almost-giggle. They all look at him, and he ducks his head; if he was even a little bit shorter, Ryo's pretty sure he'd be hiding his face against Ryo's shoulder.
Is Ryo imagining things or did the high color on Junno's cheeks really deepen a bit more just then? Ryo's never seen him flush with embarrassment before, and it's… it's weird, that's what, because Ryo really has no idea what's going on with that, but his arm tightens around Junno automatically anyway, and he glares at Shingo on general principle.
Shingo, of course, just keeps grinning.
"Nothing elaborate," Ryo gets out finally. His voice catches in his throat and rasps, dark and rough. "I'm sure you'll be bored."
Nothing elaborate... hell.
They didn't plan for this. They didn't – but Junno's touch on Ryo's back is light and steady, and they can do this anyway. Ryo knows Junno can, and he can, too. It's only a question of sinking himself into the role, the same way it always is. Ryo's done this a thousand times. Not *this*, of course, but…
It won't be that big a thing. It doesn't have to be a big dramatic scene with whips and toys or anything. Ryo will tie Junno down in the sling and bring him off, and that will be that. He doubts it will take long, and of course Ryo isn't going to... he knows where the line is, and he isn't going to cross it. If he jerks off at some point then that's only –
Maybe he can have Junno touch him. That would be okay, wouldn't it?
The thought of Junno's hand curling around his cock sends shivers up the base of Ryo's spine, gives him goosebumps. Yeah, gods, he'll –
"Nah, I wouldn't worry about that." Shingo and Tadayoshi grin at each other. Ryo stares at the two of them and has no idea what the fuck that means, what he isn't supposed to worry about.
Shingo steps a little closer still, leaning in with an almost conspiratorial wink. "Maybe we'll run into each other at Nakamura's place one of these days. He gives great parties."
"Yeah, maybe," Ryo says on automatic. Whatever. He can't focus on Shingo's babblings right now; his attention is all taken up by the way Junno's breath stutters when Ryo pulls lightly on the chain that's still twined around his fingers… captivated by the sight of Junno's tousled hair falling into his dark, dark eyes, his lips parting around a soundless moan. His body is loose and relaxed against Ryo's side, and right now, that's all that matters.
Everything else can wait.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
At some point, Ryo's lost track of time. He has no idea how late it is, but the dungeon is filled almost to overflowing. There's grunting and groans, wet sex-sounds, the slapping of skin and whips and paddles and who knows what else against skin. The lighting is slightly lower than in the salon, but not by much – that wouldn't do, because there are more people here to watch than to play.
A burly young man suspended in mid-air is drawing the largest crowd. His body is bowed back into a near half-circle; strategically placed mirrors reflect pale skin criss-crossed with an intricate net of ropes.
Tonight's dungeon monitor is called Jihoon. He's taller even than Junno, carefully styled and tan, gym-honed muscles cording his bare shoulders and chest. At any other time Ryo might find him attractive; now, he has no desire to spare.
Scenes are being played at every station they pass in Jihoon's wake, men with avid faces gathered around to watch. Ryo recognizes no more than a very small number of people, but in a way, they all look the same – short and tall and handsome and ordinary and stocky and skinny and young and old. Leather and oiled skin and lust, all of them reduced to the most primal desires.
Someone with a hood over his head is being whipped at the post next to the elaborate bondage sling Jihoon leads them to. The sub's body is jerking with every stroke; his back, buttocks and thighs are bright red and streaked with welts, but there's no sound except muffled gasps, heavy breathing and the cracks of the whip.
"If your pet is loud, you need to gag him," Jihoon tells Ryo, all matter-of-fact. He doesn't bother with overt dominance games – he doesn't have to. This is his dungeon. He makes the rules, he has the last word, and the finality of it underlies his every motion and every word.
Gag him…?
Ryo blinks at the man for a moment, and suddenly, for the space of a heartbeat, the world skews. In a sickening rush of vertigo, the men all around turn into a gallery of grotesque, threatening strangers; Ryo finds himself in the middle of a performance he has no script for, pushed into a role he can't fill.
He takes half a step back and turns, and there's Junno.
Junno's watching him as though he's the only one in the room… the only one who matters. He's flushed and black-eyed with arousal, and there's no possible way for Ryo not to touch him. So he does – puts a hand flat against his stomach, runs it up his chest and curves it around the nape of Junno's neck, pulls him into a kiss. It's slow and deep and perfectly, wonderfully right in a way Ryo can't remember anything having been before.
They didn't talk about this – any of this. Ryo has no idea how loud Junno is when he has sex. But it doesn't matter; now, Ryo is back in the moment, right here with Junno.
He draws back from the kiss, but stays close; hooks two fingers into Junno's collar and tugs his head to the side. Smoothes his thumb gently over the line of his jaw and puts his lips to Junno's ear, breathes.
"Can you be silent tonight, Junno?" It comes out more of a rasp than a purr, but when Ryo traps the lobe of Junno's ear briefly with his teeth, Junno shivers. "Do I need to gag you or can you be quiet?"
Junno swallows – Ryo can feel the movement of his throat. "I can be quiet, Master," he murmurs. He sounds breathless.
"That's good." And it is, because… "You know how much I like to kiss you."
Junno turns his head to offer his mouth, and Ryo takes the invitation. This… kissing Junno, knowing that Ryo can kiss him like this and any other way he likes, that Ryo can touch him everywhere, however he wants, that he can look at him openly as much as he wants... it's like a drug. Like nothing else.
"You can use this equipment, if you want," Jihoon says, and gestures towards a metal case that sits next to the sling on folding legs. "Leave it out after use. Any questions?"
Junno steps away to stand in front of the sling, touches it. The small smile he gives Ryo over one shoulder is almost teasing.
The Ragaraja's biggest sling is an elaborate, high-tech luxury model set in an X-shaped frame. It has little in common with the more basic versions, but last week Lieutenant Nakamaru got them into a bondage supplier's showroom after closing, and there'd been something a lot like this. More than anything, it looks like a futuristic spiderweb – a web of leather mounted on jointed, freely adjustable steel supports. It's upright now, but it can be tilted, curved and bent almost any which way. Ryo remembers perfectly.
Remembers how Junno climbed into the showroom's spiderweb of leather and steel and twisted into impossible positions, and how much Ryo wanted to touch.
He's behind Junno almost before he knows he's started to move, puts light hands on his waist. Junno leans back into him immediately, and then –
Jihoon's raising impatient eyebrows at him. What?
Oh, right. "No questions," he says in the man's general direction. "We're good." *Go away already* is what he means, and the little quirk of Junno's mouth says he caught that, whether Jihoon did or not.
Jihoon says something to Junno that Junno responds to with a "yes", which seems to be the right answer. The monitor steps back – leaves, presumably –, and Ryo turns Junno to face him, runs his hands up his chest underneath the shirt. It slips easily off Junno's shoulders and down his arms; the whisper of fabric it makes as it falls to the ground is louder in Ryo's ears than any other sound except Junno's breathing.
"Up," Ryo says softly.
There's a low foothold built into the bottom of the sling. Junno steps up with easy grace and fits himself into the center of the frame. When he leans back into the supporting web the sling gives a little, cradling his back and shoulders.
Ryo doesn't think. He steps right up to Junno, pushes him further into the sling. Junno raises his arms without waiting to be prompted; Ryo strokes up the well-muscled biceps and forearms, wraps his fingers around strong wrists to arrange Junno's arms along the supports above his head, stretched to the sides with the elbows bent slightly.
There are grommets everywhere. Ryo unhooks two carabiners from his belt and attaches Junno's wrist cuffs to the bars, tugs to make sure everything is secure.
"Okay?" His voice is so low that Ryo can hardly hear himself, but Junno lowers his chin in the tiniest fraction of a nod.
Yes. *Yes*, and Ryo lets go of everything but the burning want in his gut, the feeling of Junno pressed against him – loses himself in dizzying heat.
It's easy.
The control panel is near Junno's knee. The frame tilts back smoothly at the push of a button, carefully honed hydraulics shifting without sound. Another button locks it in the new position, leaving Junno suspended in the web at a 30-degree angle.
Ryo's fingers are clumsy and slow; it takes him a long, fumbling moment to wrest open the button of Junno's jeans. Junno's watching him when he looks up, glowing with arousal… disheveled and nibbled on and debauched and irresistible.
The subtle curve of his lips isn't pronounced enough to be called a smile, really – just a hint of warmth – but it makes this more real, somehow. Not a fantasy, not a wet dream. Really Junno.
Unlike the button, the zipper surrenders without a fight. Junno arches up a little, lifting his hips off the sling just far enough for Ryo to pull down the jeans without effort. Once Ryo's tugged them to thigh-level, Junno settles back and lifts his legs instead, as naturally as though they've done this together before dozens of times.
Toned abs tense right in front of Ryo's face, and the only other thing Junno is wearing is chains and strips of leather. But Ryo keeps his eyes on what he's doing, concentrates on getting rid of the jeans – finally wrestles them all the way off and tosses them aside.
Then, and only then, he lets himself look.
The way Junno's arms are stretched out displays his broad shoulders and the subtle athleticism of his chest to best advantage, and Ryo marvels vaguely at his own genius as he drinks in the sight. The collar around Junno's throat is dramatically black and harsh against all that pale skin. So is the contraption of leather and steel that encloses his erection. His hair stands up in messy, irregular spikes; he's flushed, his breath coming fast, mouth open slightly to allow a glimpse of teeth. His eyes are heavy-lidded and hungry and locked on Ryo without challenge, without demand.
He's stunning, but Ryo has always known that. That's not what makes it hard to breathe for a second, although it's part of it, but – it's so much more than that. It's that now, Ryo knows about the fierceness and the strength and the sweetness, and –
The bare skin of Junno's hips burns Ryo's palms. Junno spreads his thighs so Ryo can step between them, and Ryo does; slides both hands down the elegantly muscled stretch of one thigh and grasps the knee firmly, lifts it up and to the side. Junno bends his leg pliantly and holds it steady in mid-air while Ryo adjusts the frame to the ideal position.
Another carabiner connects the ankle cuff to the frame's raised lower bar, and a medium-length strap from Jihoon's metal case proves ideal to frogtie Junno's lower leg to his thigh. Not too tightly, Ryo makes sure of that before he extends part of the frame slightly so he can attach this new bond to the frame, too, leaving Junno about a centimeter of play to move his leg.
Maybe it should look awkward, but it doesn't. Not at all. They repeat the process with Junno's right leg, and it's even less awkward then. Then...
Then, Junno is completely exposed, spread open and held in place by bonds in black and silver at his wrists and ankles and thighs, low on slender hips, around the engorged cock rising against his stomach, around the balls underneath, caged and snugged up to the base of his erection. A single, slender strap runs down further to the butt plug buried in Junno's opening, its flat base only partially concealed by the small leather flap holding it in.
The frame's tilted at the ideal angle to allow complete access to Junno's cock and balls and ass. He's tied down, helpless, couldn't get away if he wanted to – Ryo could do anything he wanted. Anything at all.
Everything.
The wild rush of power and amazed delight and sheer lust that swamps Ryo catches him entirely off guard, despite everything. It makes him dizzy, takes his breath away; makes his erection jerk almost painfully against his constricting pants and tears a groan from him.
"Try to get away," he murmurs, hoarsely. He doesn't know why he says it except that he'd like to see – doesn't realize it's a command until Junno obeys.
There's a sharp clatter of steel against steel. Junno tenses and arches up, muscles suddenly outlined in sharp relief all along his chest and abdomen and thighs. It's not just a token attempt, some pretty struggling with no real strength behind it; Junno goes all-out. He jerks up a fist and kicks out with his foot, gathers himself and throws serious power into a whole-body sideways twist in the leather web. The stopped force sends a shudder through Junno, but the frame doesn't even shiver.
Ryo puts his hands on the insides of Junno's splayed thighs, high up. Junno jerks and tries to close his legs, tries to push back, away from Ryo. He can't, of course. There's no way for him to escape.
Ryo touches curious, careful fingertips to the body-warm strip of leather running down the underside of Junno's erection, traces it all the way to the velvety pushed-up rounds of Junno's balls... further still, while Junno twists and tries to kick out again. The effort jolts Junno's cock in its cage and shows off the long, lean muscles in his legs, but does nothing at all to close him to Ryo's touch.
"Stop," Ryo says. Immediately, Junno relaxes back into the sling, every trace of tension and resistance melting from him in the space of a heartbeat. "See? Now you know that you're mine to do whatever I want with."
Junno's panting a little with exertion, and hair has fallen into his eyes – he's trying to blink it away. Ryo leans over to brush back the offending strands. When his gaze meets Junno's, there's nothing he can do but lean forward even further and kiss him.
The pulse at the base of Junno's throat beats a swift rhythm against Ryo's palm; Junno's mouth surrenders to his easily and completely. Ryo captures his tongue and strokes it with his own, and Junno's response is instant, eager. There's gloriously bare skin underneath Ryo's touch... firm muscles and small, hard nipples that he rubs with his fingertips, making Junno moan into the kiss.
"Whatever I want," Ryo breathes when he draws back.
Junno watches him with huge dark eyes, and then tucks his chin down into an abbreviated nod. "Whatever you want, Master," he says softly. His voice is husky, but steady and sure, and he doesn't look away from Ryo; doesn't look down, not even for an instant.
Ryo knows exactly which of the pouches at his belt he wants. It's only a heartbeat before another chain drops into his hand and he bends to trap Junno's nipple with his teeth.
Slight taste of salt. Junno's chest expands underneath him as Junno takes a deep, harsh breath. The erect nub is hot to Ryo's tongue; he closes his teeth carefully, lifts his head to scrape the tender flesh. Junno's back arches, and he gasps out something that might almost have been a word… might almost have been Ryo's name.
The clamp sits around Junno's reddened nipple like jewellery. Ryo watches Junno's face when he puts it on, and Junno watches him back. Ryo's fascinated by the small shudder that runs through Junno's body when the rubber-covered steel teeth close.
"You're," he starts, and then stops because there are too many things he wants to say, and he isn't sure he should be saying any of them.
"You're beautiful like this," he gets out at last. And that, at least, is absolutely true.
When the second clamp closes around Junno's other nipple, Junno gives a moan in addition to the shudder, and Ryo can't take his eyes off him. He's sweaty and dishevelled, and, yes – he *is* beautiful. And… at least for this instant, he's Ryo's.
Ryo curves his palm around Junno's caged erection, pulls it away from Junno's stomach as far as the chains that bind it allow. It jerks in his hand and Junno makes another tiny, delicious moaning sound.
Blood-hot skin striped with leather... intriguing, and Ryo strokes Junno from the root to the tip, slowly; again because he likes the way it feels, the way Junno's hips rise by just the smallest fraction, not nearly enough to be called a thrust.
The head of Junno's cock peeks from the top of the cage, a steel ring sitting just above the flared rim like exotic jewellery. It's blood-dark and wet, and when Ryo touches his thumb to it, Junno's entire body jolts. Ryo waits for a heartbeat before he does it again, rubs the soft cap with more insistence, smearing clear fluid over skin and metal.
Junno tries to hold still, but can't. His breathing is shallow and quick; his hips make tiny, helpless, aborted movements, and Ryo puts his free hand down on a hipbone to steady him.
The catches on the chain around Junno's waist open almost to a thought. The chains and straps that hold the cage and butt plug in place detach easily from the cage itself; a tug, and the entire construction comes loose in Ryo's hands. He tosses it aside quickly, gets his hands back on Junno.
Traces the line of Junno's bound cock downwards, smoothes over the softness and heat of his balls. Strokes along the now bare skin below to the flat base of the butt plug seated deep inside Junno's body… the plug that's been inside him for the entire evening, holding him open.
The protruding rubber is slippery with lube, but the sides of the plug's base are ridged and make it easy to get a firm hold even so. Ryo pulls it back slowly, slowly... watches it slide out of Junno's body. It's flared in the typical butt plug way, and Ryo goes even slower once he's pulled it back far enough that he can actually see the rim of Junno's opening, glistening with lube and stretched around black rubber.
When Ryo steadies himself against Junno's leg, Junno's thigh tenses to rock hardness under his grip before relaxing again, and the muscle of Junno's anus pulses once, contracting against the invasive plug.
Once the plug begins to taper off, Ryo stops. It's medium-sized, not quite as thick around as Ryo's cock.
Junno's hips jerk again when Ryo reaches out to touch; his sphincter flutters against Ryo's fingertips as he strokes it, following the line of the rubber disappearing inside Junno's body.
The half-gasp, half-moan Junno makes when Ryo begins to push the plug back in sounds almost strangled. His legs shift restlessly in their bonds; if he weren't tied down, maybe he'd be wrapping them around Ryo. But then he inhales deeply, shakily, and seems to collect himself; for the space of several heartbeats, he remains silent and still, even when Ryo pulls the plug almost all the way out once more and pushes it back in, slowly.
And then Ryo pulls it out slow and pushes it back in hard and fast, and Junno jerks and twists and gasps, and suddenly – just like that, from one instant to the next – it's all too much. Too much to take, way too much, and far too much to resist, because – because Junno's incredible, irresistible, beautiful, and Junno wants this. Wants Ryo.
Ryo pulls the plug out and drops it, sinks two fingers into Junno instead, dipping into wet velvet heat. Junno's gaze is fever-bright and locked on Ryo; Junno's body trembles at his touch, and when Ryo pulls out to rub Junno's stretched opening, fingering the slick muscle, Junno whimpers, and his cock twitches inside the cage.
There's no imaginable reason not to do this. Junno wants him. Junno wants him, there's no question about that at all, and nothing else can possibly matter.
The front of Ryo's pants tears away easily. Ryo shudders at the touch of his own hand as he guides himself to Junno; the sensation of Junno's sphincter pressing against him makes him groan, lightning shocks of sensation shooting through him. And then... oh.
Then, Junno's body opens for him, sheathes him in tight heat as Ryo pushes in, seats himself all the way inside Junno with a single quick thrust. Junno moans, eyes wide and locked on Ryo's with something almost like awe. It's – gods.
Ryo can't look away; leans forward, dragged by a force as irresistible as gravity. The kiss they fall into is slow but deep, dizzying; underneath his hand, the pulse at the base of Junno's throat is strong and fast, beating against Ryo's palm.
Something changes, then, between one heartbeat and the next, at some point during the short space of time that they kiss. Ryo can feel the difference as he pulls back – something's shifted, or... but it doesn't matter, not now. Not now, when Ryo has Junno right there, pliant and spread open and impaled on Ryo's cock, flushed and panting... ready to be taken.
Junno meets his eyes without challenge, without anything but desire. His mouth is open slightly, soft, inviting. The sheen of sweat on his skin makes him glow golden in the dim light, like something out of legend – a creature of pure carnality and seduction. Several strands of hair are sticking to his face and neck; when Ryo strokes them back, Junno turns his face into the touch.
Ryo's mouth is bone dry. He swallows and puts his head back for a second to collect himself; then, he rests his hands on Junno's thighs – hard, lean muscle trembles slightly beneath his touch – and finally gives in to his body's aching need to move.
He pulls back slowly, so slowly, and pushes back in only a little faster. The sensation of Junno's body tight and hot and perfect around him thrills through him, curls around his cock and his balls and shivers outwards along every nerve of his body, and, oh, yes, just like that, just like...
For an instant of pure, rapturous pleasure, it's almost enough. And then it's not.
He thrusts into Junno again, presses deep and circles his hips, and Junno moans, tightening around Ryo's cock. Yes, that's – it's amazing, but now the hunger is growing and it's not enough even for an instant, nowhere near enough.
Ryo slides his hands along Junno's bound legs, curls them around the insides of his knees and leans back so he can watch himself, watch his erection disappear into Junno's body again and again. He speeds up after the first couple of thrusts; can't stop himself and doesn't try, because Junno's hot and wanton and willing and twisting in his bonds – not trying to get away, not doing anything but giving himself up to the sensation... to Ryo's cock in his ass. To Ryo taking him. Claiming him.
He's so beautiful like this, stretched out and displayed, open to Ryo's gaze, Ryo's touch, Ryo's cock – Ryo.
And he feels, oh gods. He feels...
Ryo shifts forward and grabs Junno's hips and fucks him as hard and as fast as he wants, as hard and as fast as he *can*. The sound of his balls slapping against Junno and the mewling little gasps that sound like they're being torn from Junno and the rasp of Ryo's own harsh breathing fill his world, and Junno's so, so – Ryo can hardly breathe, can't, and there's a second where the lust and pleasure and want raging inside him are almost too much, because with every thrust and every gasp and every spark of sensation the tension mounts higher, drawing him up tighter and tighter, desperate and urgent and now, *now* –
*Yes.*
The world explodes into fire and sheer, molten ecstasy.
Oh, gods.
Ryo stumbles and grabs randomly at the frame; everything is dizzy and spinning and he isn't at all sure of his balance. He slides out of Junno's body, cool air against overheated skin, and... Too much, or not enough. He can't tell.
He shudders as a lingering ripple of electric rapture rips through him; just breathes, for a moment, and then opens his eyes (when did he close them?) to Junno's gleaming skin and black eyes. Junno's hunger.
Oh.
Ryo's orgasm is still tingling in his toes and fingers, trembling in his lungs and prickling on his lips – but looking at Junno he can feel the desperation again, gnawing at his gut like an echo.
When Ryo puts a hand on Junno's thigh, Junno moans, and a fine shiver runs through his entire body. Inside its cage, Junno's erection is an angry, swollen red; the exposed tip is leaking a small trail of liquid onto his stomach. Ryo strokes up Junno's sides and makes him shudder, touches the head of his cock and makes him jerk convulsively in his restraints.
Junno jerks again and gives a sobbing little gasp when Ryo bends down curiously to touch his tongue to the tip of his erection. The liquid tastes bitter – bitter and slightly salty; Ryo flattens his tongue and licks over the cock's head, pushes Junno's hips down to keep him still as he runs the tip of his tongue along the warm metal ring sitting against the skin.
When Ryo pulls back, Junno's breathing is unsteady, sweat gleaming in the hollow of his throat.
The snaps at the base of the cage open easily; the entire leather and metal contraption comes readily apart, falling into a bundle of loose straps in Ryo's hands. It's the first time Ryo sees Junno's erection with nothing in the way, and he can't think why he didn't take off the stupid cage long before this.
Junno's cock lies long and absurdly elegant against his stomach, thicker than Ryo expected; it curves slightly to the left. There are pressure marks along its length from the straps, and it looks almost painfully engorged. But when Ryo curls a careful hand around it, Junno lifts into the touch and gives a strangled almost-whimper, and there's nothing but pleasure in his eyes.
Close by, someone groans, dark and low.
Ryo hasn't forgotten where they are, or that there are people watching. Not exactly. It's more that it was unimportant, and so he tuned it out – tuned them out. But now he looks and they come into focus: a cluster of men pulled up in a half-circle around the sling, open lust written on their faces. Tadayoshi and Shingo are right up front, almost close enough for Ryo to touch, if he stretches out a hand. Shingo's standing behind Tadayoshi, plastered to his back with one hand slowly moving in his pants; Tadayoshi's head is tipped back, mouth slack with arousal, eyes glittering with unmistakable hunger.
Ryo follows Tadayoshi's stare to Junno... Junno spread open and exposed, aroused and unfulfilled. Junno's anus is still stretched, gleaming; a trickle of lube and Ryo's semen runs out of the opening as Ryo watches.
No wonder they're staring. Ryo'd stare too, if that was all he could do. But he can do so much more, he's allowed – and the knowledge fills him up in an exhilarating rush that sends his heart racing and his breath catching in his throat.
He reaches out and traces a gentle touch around Junno's opening... soft hot skin slippery with fluids, and the muscle flexes slightly under his caress. Junno's watching him, trembles at his touch, and Ryo rubs a little harder over the slick skin, fingers the entrance to Junno's body; pushes his fingertips easily into wet heat.
There are toys of every imaginable kind in the metal case Jihoon set out, but... Ryo doesn't want to use any of them. It feels wrong, the idea of using rubber or anything like that on Junno now – some object, something that's... Ryo doesn't have the words for it, but it feels wrong.
He can use his fingers, or his mouth, or both. But Tadayoshi and the others still lurk on the corners of his vision, and... he can also use something else.
"Junno." Ryo's voice is rough. He flicks his gaze towards the watching row of men and looks the question at Junno, and Junno doesn't hesitate, doesn't look away from Ryo at all; just dip his chin in a minute, but unmistakable nod.
Tadayoshi jumps a little when Ryo swings around and glares at him. "You," Ryo barks. "Come here."
The lust in Tadayoshi's expression flares, but he doesn't move; doesn't do anything until Shingo takes his hand out of his pants and whispers something in his ear.
Ryo moves his fingers inside Junno, runs a light touch over Junno's stomach. He doesn't look at Shingo. He doesn't want this to be misunderstood – he's just borrowing Tadayoshi, to use in exactly the same way he'd use one of Jihoon's toys. He isn't lending Junno out to anyone.
Not to anyone.
A second later and Tadayoshi is there at the edge of the frame, all but vibrating with eagerness. Ryo watches him stare at Junno, at Ryo's hands on Junno, in Junno; watches the hunger burn openly in his face for the instant before he lowers his gaze and stands in a properly submissive pose, head bowed.
"Take off your pants," Ryo orders.
He does, so quickly that he almost stumbles over them. For someone usually so studiedly graceful, it's telling.
Ryo lifts one hand off Junno just long enough to make a twirling gesture, and Tadayoshi turns slowly, displaying himself. He spreads his buttocks to show that he's wearing a butt plug, but his cock is unadorned and juts up at a sharp angle, fully erect, crown glistening with precome.
He'll do... and he's certainly ready and willing.
Condoms are everywhere in the Ragaraja. There's a large handful of foil packets in the case of toys; Ryo takes one and makes sure it's intact before tossing it to Tadayoshi. "Put this on and lube up."
Ryo doesn't watch him do it, and neither does Junno. Junno's still looking at Ryo when he bends down for a kiss, when he pulls his fingers out of Junno's body to rub over his stretched rim once more. Junno whimpers into his mouth; his breathing comes in harsh, fast little gasps that echo the rhythm of Ryo's fingers playing with him. He twists when Ryo bites his throat, moans when Ryo licks down his chest; cries out harshly when Ryo's mouth closes over one nipple clamp, when he presses his tongue to warm metal and overheated skin.
When Ryo pulls back Tadayoshi's waiting, latex-encased erection slick with lube.
"Don't touch him," Ryo says. He waits for Tadayoshi's meek nod before he steps back from the sling, surrendering the position between Junno's legs. Tadayoshi crosses his wrists behind his back and doesn't move at all until Ryo waves him closer.
Junno's knee blocks Ryo's view from the side, so he takes a moment to adjust the frame, lowering Junno's legs and changing the angle of the entire sling. Better – now he can see everything if he leans forward, can touch Junno properly too, can curl his hand around to the inside of Junno's thigh and slide it up along his trembling abs, damp with sweat and precome. Ryo doesn't touch Junno's cock – not now, not yet –, strokes just past it teasingly and brushes a butterfly caress over Junno's balls before he reaches down further, to Junno's anus clenching around his fingertips.
Tadayoshi's gaze follows Ryo's hand across Junno's body with a burning laser focus, but he stands quietly, waiting for instructions. Ryo approves.
"When I take my fingers away," Ryo says softly, "Push in slowly, all the way. And then stop moving."
He nods, eyes fever-bright with lust, expression demure.
Ryo takes his fingers away, lets his hand rest where Junno's thigh meets his groin. Tadayoshi comes forward the last half-step and briefly takes one hand from behind his back to line his cock up with Junno's opening. He pushes in slowly, smoothly, all the way until his groin is pushed up against Junno.
Junno's back arches in the sling; he moans, almost brokenly. His cock moves, jerks, and muscles flutter beneath Ryo's hand; Tadayoshi gasps, but doesn't move.
"Pull out slowly," Ryo says. "Push back in fast and hard."
He watches the echo of it in Junno's face, in the drugged-looking eyes locked on Ryo's. He feels it in Junno's body underneath his hands. Junno moans, long and drawn-out, and Junno's body rocks and tenses with sudden movement and Junno cries out once, short and harsh, rising against his bonds.
"Yes," Ryo whispers, "Yes."
At Tadayoshi, he barks, "Keep doing that."
Junno's body rocks with the rhythm of being fucked; after a moment his eyes fall almost completely shut, leaving only a sliver of darkness. Mouth open slightly, face lax with sensation, completely open – relaxed, abandoned – completely given over to need, to feeling. To Ryo.
"Beautiful," Ryo murmurs, and Junno opens his heavy-lidded eyes a little wider, turns his head to meet Ryo in a kiss. Ryo strokes back his hair again and traces the line of his cheekbone, his jaw, his neck and collarbone, his shoulder and chest.
His fingers catch in the chain connecting the nipple clamps, and Junno groans, shudders.
Junno's close. He's been on the edge for – Ryo doesn't even know how long; he's lost all sense of time.
Tadayoshi's gasping too, now, body taut and strain visible in his face. But his hands are locked behind his back and his rhythm is rock steady – he pulls out slowly and drives back into Junno fast, *hard*, and his breath gasps out on a strangled groan, and then he does it again.
"Fast and hard now," Ryo says, and Tadayoshi moans just a little, and starts fucking Junno as hard and fast as he can without touching him.
There's an odd, unexpected thrill to this – to watching someone else fuck Junno. When it was Ryo, he couldn't really concentrate on Junno's reactions, not to this degree – he was too wrapped up in his own passion. But now...
Junno's moaning, abandoned, wild. He's close, and he's so beautiful, and when Ryo runs his hands over him he whimpers and lifts into the touch, and all the while he is rocking with the rhythm of being fucked.
When Ryo releases the first nipple clamp Junno makes a sound that Ryo has no word for, drawn-out and harsh and full of wild pleasure, and his cock jerks against his stomach, a spurt of liquid slicking his abs. Ryo waits for the next thrust of the cock into Junno's willing body, and when he undoes the second clamp Junno arches and mewls, helpless, and –
And Ryo is rubbing himself against the side of the sling. Ryo's hard again, and he has no idea when that happened but he doesn't care, because –
"Stop – get back." His voice lashes out like a whip, and Tadayoshi shudders, groans. But he stops and pulls out and that's all Ryo cares about, that he's out of the way and Ryo is the one between Junno's legs again. Ryo pushes inside Junno and immediately picks up an urgent, driving rhythm; leans forward and slides his hands up Junno's body, pushes his palms over swollen nipples and then rubs the heels of his hands over them in small circles.
Junno's eyes are wide and black, pupils completely blown; his cheeks are flushed with high color, his expression dazed. He looks drugged, he looks like pure sex, he looks so ravishing that Ryo can't understand why he hasn't done this before, long ago, always –
When Ryo closes a hand around Junno's cock, it jumps in his grasp and Junno's entire body stiffens. Ryo strokes up from root to tip once, and Junno twists and moans and pulls at his bonds and stares at Ryo with a feverish glitter, and when Ryo strokes back down he just knows.
"*Now*," Ryo says, harshly. It's a command, and Ryo didn't know he was going to speak it until he does.
Junno screams when he comes.
It's incredible, beautiful. His body closes around Ryo and he flings his head back and his hands open like he's grasping for something, and every muscle of his body is outlined, glowing with a golden sheen. Strands of hair cling to his neck, his long throat stretched back. His cock hardens impossibly further in Ryo's grip, and then his semen slicks Ryo's fingers, and gods...
Ryo's hands are shaking.
Junno melts into boneless relaxation, not moving at all except for the heaving of his chest. Ryo's still inside him, and it's another minute or so before he can gather himself enough to pull back. Until he does, Ryo isn't sure whether he's come again or not. Not, looks like, but Ryo doesn't care. He feels... strange. Unreal.
Junno's looking at him, now; Ryo has no name for the expression on his face. Ryo looks away first. They're not finished here – not yet. He has things left to do.
He unhooks the carabiners and unbuckles the straps holding Junno's legs folded back. Junno doesn't move until Ryo reaches up to his wrists and tugs them down gently, not too quickly. Then Ryo guides one of Junno's legs from its perch, digs careful fingers into the muscles of his thigh, straightening it slowly. Junno stretches it out and finds the floor, shifts some weight onto it; it seems to be okay, so Ryo goes on to the other leg, massaging carefully until he's sure nothing seized up or cramped during – however long they were having sex for.
It seemed like hours... but it can't have been that long, surely.
Junno steps forward, and Ryo gathers him in, and they sink down to the floor. Junno turns his face into Ryo's shoulder, hiding it against his throat, and Ryo pulls him closer still and threads his fingers through the wet hair at the back of Junno's head.
There's a blanket; Ryo has a dim idea that someone draped it over the two of them. He doesn't care, can't spare attention for something so unimportant. He just drags the fabric closer around Junno and himself and strokes Junno's shoulders until they relax, digs careful fingers into tense muscles until none of the tension from being in one position for so long remains. Until Junno is pliant and still against Ryo, his breathing calm... heavy weight and long limbs and hard muscles not preventing him from fitting perfectly into the curve of Ryo's arm.
Things are happening around them, but Ryo doesn't care. All he knows is that Junno is there, and Ryo feels... protective, and possessive, and... he feels...
He feels fierce, helpless, filled up, spilling over with emotions fiery and uncontrollable and tender and wild, too much for any one person to contain, and centered entirely on the man in his arms.
Yes – that's it. That's it, isn't it?
"You're mine," Ryo whispers into Junno's hair. It sounds like a statement, but feels like a plea, just like the next thing he says. "I'll take good care of you."
Junno doesn't say anything, but he pushes a little closer, and Ryo doesn't say anything more either because his throat has closed up with emotions he can't name.
Eventually they pick themselves up and walk to the showers. Nobody bothers them or tries to speak to them. It's like they're in a bubble of two; sex games are being played all around, but Ryo hardly notices. They pass Tadayoshi and Shingo, Tadayoshi bent over a low stand of some kind, Shingo pumping into him from behind. Ryo wouldn't have noticed them at all if Shingo hadn't waved a friendly "later" gesture at Ryo as they walk by.
They claim one of the closed shower cubicles. Ryo washes Junno carefully and far more thoroughly than necessary because he's unwilling to stop touching him. When Ryo works shampoo into his hair, Junno makes a low, pleased sound in the back of his throat; once Ryo has rinsed out the foam, he washes Junno's hair a second time just to hear that sound again. It really can't be called anything but a purr.
When Junno washes Ryo with equal care, Ryo rediscovers his forgotten arousal and comes into Junno's soapy hand with a speed that might be embarrassing, if Ryo were capable of any additional emotions just then.
They dry off and get dressed in their street clothes and take a taxi to Ryo's place because neither of them is fit to drive. Junno sleeps curled into Ryo's body, breath warm against Ryo's throat, and when Ryo wakes up in the morning, Junno is gone.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
The note says: "Had to go – important appointment! Didn't want to wake you. Let's meet up at the station, or call me. We have to talk before debriefing the gnome!"
It doesn't really help at all. Ryo is actually glad when his call goes directly to Junno's voicemail.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Kitagawa doesn't say a word until Ryo's finished the small speech he's prepared in his head on the way here. He remains silent while Ryo rambles on for another couple of minutes, helpless to just shut his mouth and stop even while cringing in horror and humiliation at the incoherent nonsense that falls from his lips. Even when Ryo does finally manage to shut the fuck up, the superintendent just keeps staring while a painful eternity drags by. He looks more like an evil gnome than ever before.
But it's not like Ryo doesn't deserve Kitagawa's disgust. He does. He was...
Saying he was out of line doesn't even scratch the surface of it. There's no way to justify tying your partner down and fucking him, and letting random horny yakuza scions screw him while you're at it. Being undercover in a gay BDSM club is no excuse because Ryo didn't *have* to do it, there would have been a dozen other ways to get out of the situation, but he didn't even try because – because –
Because he wanted to so badly. Because it was so convenient.
Because he is no better than any of the criminals he's –
"This is great," Kitagawa says, and grins.
It's such a rare and unexpected sight that Ryo can't process it at all for a moment – just stares in numb incomprehension at the sight of the superintendent's lips twisted the wrong way up.
"My instincts are never wrong." Is Kitagawa actually *rubbing his hands*? "I knew you'd suit each other! It's decided, then. As of now, the two of you will be permanent partners."
Ryo opens and closes his mouth a couple of times before any sound comes out. "I – partners. Suit each other? I don't – I *resigned*. Because – that incident, there was, there was some really unbecoming behavior, mine, I seriously, really indefensible –"
"Yes, yes." Kitagawa waves Ryo's hard-won words away with a casual gesture. "I heard you the first time – and remind me to send you to an elocution course one of these days, Nishikido. But that's not important! What's important is that your partner called first thing this morning, saying that you might be by to spout some such nonsense." Ryo jumps as Kitagawa claps his hands once; the sound echoes in his ears like a gunshot. "Is that true rapport or what? You've only been working together for a matter of weeks, and already you're practically reading each other's minds and finishing each other's sentences!"
Ryo starts to speak, but has no words. Finishing each other's sentences? What the fuck, Ryo exploited an undercover assignment to bone the guy he was supposed to be watching out for! Is that really the kind of thing that makes a good partnership in the superintendent's eyes?
For a minute or so Ryo tries to find a way to say this without skirting the issue of what he actually did too closely, because he just can't go there with Kitagawa – or anyone, but especially Kitagawa. Meanwhile Kitagawa beams at him, which is majorly creepy and more gnome-like than even the scowling.
In the end, Ryo gives up and storms out, and slams the door to Kitagawa's office as hard as he can.
Fucking evil gnome. This is all his fault anyway.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Halfway between the squad room and the elevators, someone tackles Ryo from behind and knocks all the air from his lungs, drags him to the side. He tries to wrench free automatically, slamming back his head and elbows and trying to twist away, but he's off balance and taken by surprise, and then his back hits a wall and he catches a glimpse of a familiar face before the door to the supply room slams shut behind them, sealing him into darkness in the company of his assailant. Before Ryo can catch his breath, let alone collect his wits, Junno grabs his shoulders, hauls him forward and spins him around.
There's the familiar snick of handcuffs, and the lights go on to leave Ryo blinking at the ancient street map of Tokyo on the wall. His hands are cuffed behind his back; Junno's grip is almost painfully tight on his upper arms.
"You just don't get it, do you?" Junno purrs into his ear. His voice is as dark and low and rough as velvet. Ryo's heart jumps again, breath stopping with a mix of confusion and –
Gods, he is pathetic.
"Junno." Ryo's voice rasps in his throat. He stops to breathe and collect himself, tries to turn around – but Junno isn't having that, so in the end Ryo just cranes his neck as best as he can, managing to catch sight of Junno out of the corner of his eyes. "I – look. I shouldn't have, I know that, I just – it was, it was only –"
"Only what?" He sounds cooler now; what Ryo can see of his expression reminds him a lot of the impassive neutrality of a cop interviewing a suspect.
He's thought of so many ways to try and talk himself out of this, but now, when it comes down to it, he can't force any of them out. Junno doesn't deserve to be lied to on top of everything else – he's a good cop, and – well. Ryo just doesn't want to lie to him.
"I – wanted. You. I wanted you, and – I shouldn't have, but I let myself go and –"
He breaks off because Junno is suddenly heavy and warm all along his back, breathing right into his ear. Ryo's bound hands are flattened against Junno's stomach with buttons pressing into his left palm; he shifts nervously and fabric slides beneath his fingers, dragging over Junno's firm abs.
There's no way for Ryo to prevent the sensory flashback to velvet heat and trembling muscles underneath his touch, the smell of arousal, the look in Junno's eyes...
He has to get a grip. Has to –
Suddenly Junno's hand is on his stomach, and for a moment Ryo forgets to breathe and somehow misses it when Junno crowds him forward – and then Ryo finds himself trapped against the wall, head turned awkwardly to the side. His chest and shoulders are pressed right to the map of Tokyo; the streets of Akasaka swim in his vision as he tries to squint back over his shoulder.
And then Ryo forgets all about Akasaka because Junno isn't just pushed up behind him anymore – now Junno's knee is between Ryo's legs, his hard thigh riding up against Ryo's ass and groin. Junno's hand is still spread low on his stomach, holding him pressed to Junno's body, and there's a growing, heated bulge nudging Ryo's lower back, and Ryo can't breathe at all anymore, can hardly let himself believe that this is real.
"So," says Junno, and it's not really a purr and not really a rasp and not really anything but pure sex. "What are you going to do to make up for it?"
Junno's hand strays lower, and – oh gods, it's real, it has to be because nothing else could feel so, so –
Ryo moans helplessly as Junno cups his cock through his pants. He can't think, can't do anything but try to push into the touch as much as he can. Junno rubs him and it's, oh, and then he squeezes, not gently, and it almost hurts but it's –
"I asked you a question," Junno says. There's steel woven through his tone, and the sudden nip of teeth at Ryo's neck makes him jerk and gasp. "What will you do to make up for what you did?"
"Anything," Ryo blurts without thinking. And then says it again, meaning it. "Anything you want."
"Hold still."
Fabric pulls tight against Ryo's cock as Junno undoes his belt, and he bites back a near-whimper. Junno makes mercifully short work of his pants and briefs, janks them down together and gets them out of the way. Ryo can't wait for Junno to touch him again, can't...
He's hard as a rock. It's not the cuffs, and it's not being manhandled like this – he doesn't usually, doesn't really –
For one eternal moment Ryo thinks that Junno is going to make him wait, or beg – and he will beg, he has no illusions about that – but then Junno is pressed close and tight again, both arms wrapped around Ryo, surrounding him, overwhelming him. And then, then finally Junno's hand is on him with nothing between them, just skin on skin.
He wants to reach for him, wants to lean into him, kiss him, but he can't do any of that with his wrists cuffed at his back and Junno pressing him into the wall. So instead Ryo closes his eyes and just feels, sinks into the slow sweet torture of Junno's touch, running over him from root to crown and back.
Junno takes his time, doesn't stroke so much as explore, or play. Or tease... yes, tease, because he trails a too-light touch down the underside of Ryo's erection, then closes his fist slightly too tight around his base; circles his fingers around Ryo's cock just underneath the head and waits just a beat too long before stroking down; smoothes his palm over Ryo's crown with just a hint too much pressure, and then doesn't do it again.
Too much and not enough and somehow it's perfect – electrifying and breath-taking and frightening and so searingly intense that Ryo can feel it everywhere, shivering like liquid fire in his throat and his gut and his cock, everywhere Junno is touching him... everywhere he isn't. Sensation tumbles through him in an unfiltered rush, raw against over-loaded senses, and Ryo never wants it to stop; wants Junno to go on doing this until the sun collapses and the world freezes into eternal ice.
Junno's fondling Ryo's balls now, palming and lifting them, petting them almost. Most of the time Ryo doesn't like to be touched there but it's perfect now, perfect... and then Junno presses down sharply just behind his balls, and the jolt of sheer sensation is so intense it makes Ryo gasp, makes him jerk in the circle of Junno's arms.
His eyes fly open to yellowed paper and faded kanji, and for a second he can't make sense of what he's seeing at all.
"Junno –" He sounds strangled, and he stops after the name because he doesn't know how to go on. He didn't really want to say anything; not anything except the name.
Junno doesn't say anything either, just tightens his grasp, pulls Ryo in even closer. For a moment the cuffs dig painfully into Ryo's wrists, but Junno shifts and the pressure is gone. Ryo can feel the heavy heat of Junno's arousal against his bound hands, and then Junno touches him again, gathers up Ryo's balls and strokes his cock hard, and it feels – oh, it feels amazing, feels like Ryo is melting into bliss, but it's not enough. Not nearly enough, nowhere near, and suddenly Ryo can't stand it. He needs more, so much more than this – he can't wait, *can't* –
"Please," Ryo whispers. "Please, Junno. Please..."
"Please what?"
"Touch me, really touch me, fuck me, please, fuck me *now* –"
The change in Junno's breathing is subtle, just a slight hitch, but Ryo hears it – feels Junno's reaction in the tensing of his body, the way the cock lying against his palms moves. But then Junno pulls back, leaves Ryo cold and desperate, and Ryo makes an inarticulate sound of protest and starts to turn –
"I told you to hold still."
Junno's voice is rough with arousal, but implacably hard; Ryo freezes without thinking.
Fabric shifts, rustles; an instant later Junno grabs Ryo's wrists and the cuffs fall away. Junno pulls Ryo's arms up and sets his palms flat against the wall, kicks his legs apart as far as they will go, pulls his hips back and up. Ryo's pants have ended up around his knees so he can't spread his legs as far as he wants, and he wonders if he should kick them off – but that would be moving and he can't do that.
Endless seconds tick by without Junno's touch, and Ryo aches, stares almost sightlessly down at his untucked shirt hanging over the swollen head of his erection, the boxes stacked against the wall. But then the waiting is over – then Junno's hand is hot on Ryo's bare hip and cool, slick fingers find his exposed opening.
He gasps, can't help it – can't help twitching a little, either. Junno's grip on his hip tightens in warning, but it's okay because he doesn't stop, not even for an instant – because he circles Ryo's opening with just the right edge of roughness, massages and rubs until Ryo's frantic with the need to push back into the touch, to beg Junno to go faster, harder.
He doesn't have to beg. It's only a moment before Junno pushes into him; two fingers at once, Ryo thinks, because it's almost too much – just right. When Junno pulls them out Ryo sways back to follow, and Junno *growls* at him, which, oh gods. More fingers and more lubricant, stretching him to almost-but-not-quite the point of pain, and almost, almost –
Another breath and Junno draws back again, and this time what pushes against Ryo's opening is unmistakably an erection. Junno curls both hands around Ryo's hips and shifts him back just a little more, and then he pushes in – slow, so slow – and Ryo is stretched open around Junno's cock. Junno doesn't pause, just keeps going, and... oh.
By the time Junno's all the way inside him, Ryo is panting and sweaty and wild with need and sensation that still hovers right at the edge of pain. Junno leans forward, and the cock buried inside Ryo shifts; Ryo trembles, and Junno takes in a long, shuddery breath, and then he pulls out fast and drives back in hard, once, and again – again. The sound of their bodies slapping against each other is ridiculously loud in the small room.
Junno pauses, pushes on Ryo's back to make him lean over more and thrusts back in at a slightly different angle. And then Ryo can't breathe and can't see, can't do anything but lean hard against the wall and ride out the burst of sheer pleasure that explodes through him, spiraling out from Junno inside him and sweeping out through Ryo, his cock and his balls and his stomach and his nipples and tingling in his toes and fingertips and lips.
They fuck fast and rough and hard and dirty. Soon, Junno's palm is hot against Ryo's mouth because Ryo can't be quiet, although he tries; his toes curl and his back arches with every thrust, and he's long since given up the attempt not to lean into Junno's penetration. And now when Junno wraps his fingers around Ryo there's no teasing at all, just hard even strokes that echo the rhythm of Junno thrusts – perfect, and maybe Junno twists his hand or does something with his thumb but Ryo can't concentrate, can't resist the tidal wave of bliss that rises up inside him – just surrenders and lets it sweep him up and tear him apart.
Junno's so close behind him that Ryo almost misses the breathless little whimper he gives, and Ryo's still shuddering with the force of his own orgasm when Junno pulls out, drags Ryo up and around and pushes him into the wall.
Ryo expects the kiss to be hard and possessive, but it's not – not at all. It's soft, and gentle, and – well. Sweet.
"You're not going to keep being stupid about this, right?" Junno murmurs against Ryo's lips.
Ryo knows he should object to the "being stupid" part, but he can't muster up the energy, let alone the irritation. He tries for a glare on general principle... but glares are really hard to pull off at such short range, so it's okay if it turns out a little less intimidating than his glares typically do.
When Junno makes as though to step away, Ryo grabs his head to pull him in for another kiss.
It's another ten minutes or so before they pull themselves back together, fix their clothes as best they can, and check each other over for suspicious marks or other telltale evidence of what they've been doing.
"So that thing I'm not getting," Ryo says, and then stops because Junno is combing fingers through his hair and only manages to muss it up more, and the unexpected strength of Ryo's impulse to knock Junno's hands aside and do it properly takes him off guard.
"Yes?"
"Uhm." Right. What Junno had said right before screwing Ryo's brains out – that Ryo just didn't get it. That's what he'd been talking about. "Yeah, that. Let me guess. You're not a sub?"
Junno has tamed his hair now and looks over at Ryo. His grin is sudden and blinding; Ryo is stunned for several seconds and misses the first words of his answer.
"... meant was that I wasn't just along for the ride," Junno's saying when Ryo tunes in. "You know that perfectly well when you're not being stupid. We're – uh. We've been working together. You know. Deciding things together, like – you know." Ryo watches in fascination as a slight flush tints Junno's cheekbones. "It was my decision just as much as yours, and yeah, dumb move because we might have blown our cover all the way to Korea, but we were lucky and we didn't. And the point is, it wasn't just your dumb move, it was mine too."
"Working together," Ryo repeats.
Permanent partners, Kitagawa said. Ryo still isn't entirely sure how he should feel about that. Except... except that he discovers in that moment, to his surprise, that it doesn't feel like a betrayal anymore.
Junno fidgets a little and looks down. "I think we're doing a pretty good job. Especially considering this isn't exactly the easiest first assignment."
"Yeah," Ryo says faintly. It's the truth; if anything it's an understatement, because they've been doing a fucking great job. No pun intended. And Junno is... well.
If Ryo had to pick someone to watch his back and bounce ideas around with and kick Ryo in the ass every once in a while, then, yeah. And that's not even touching the whole "mind-blowing sex" thing.
But – hang on.
"Why'd you cut out on me this morning?" It's an accusation, and Ryo doesn't try to make it anything but. If Junno's so fine with the dumb moves and the amazing sex and the job they're doing, then what the fuck did he think he was about, leaving Ryo to wake up alone? Ryo doesn't even have words for the degree of suckage his morning achieved before Junno dragged him into the supply room. And why would you run out on someone that way unless you didn't want to face them for some reason, or –
"I had to meet an informant before the pachinko parlors opened," Junno says easily.
It's so out of left field that for a too-long moment, Ryo can't do anything but gape. Junno grins at him all casual and sunny, and then his gaze dips to Ryo's mouth before darting to the supply room's door and back to Ryo again, and his grin quirks into something decidedly mischievous.
Nothing about him hints at an awareness of having just said something so monumentally wrong.
"You had to meet an informant?" Ryo manages at last. Junno blinks at him in surprise and starts to speak, but Ryo isn't finished yet. "You went off to meet an informant and didn't think you should so much as fucking tell me?"
At least the damn grin is gone now, but Junno still doesn't look like he gets it. "I left you a note."
Yeah, and now that note helps less than it ever did, and Ryo's incredulousness is fast beginning to heat into anger. "You sure did. You left me a note, wow, that's just great. There's nothing like working together, huh?"
"It's – I didn't –" Junno stops himself and then starts again. At least he's worried now. That's something, Ryo guesses. "Ryo-kun. It's not part of the assignment – our assignment. The informant I met has nothing to do with the Ragaraja."
*Nothing to do with you.*
Ryo doesn't even know how to process that, so he just barrels on. "Why the fuck didn't you wake me? You can't just –"
"It's not a police investigation!" Junno pauses for half a beat before going on, visibly gathering himself; trying to shut himself away. Somehow, the attempt at distance makes Ryo angrier than the entire rest of this thing. "It's something I – I didn't wake you because I don't want to get you involved. There's no reason for you to be caught up in it too."
What the fuck! "I'm already involved! We're *partners*, you ass!"
Junno gapes at Ryo for a moment, and somehow his complete, unfeigned astonishment takes the wind out of the sails of Ryo's anger. "But you said I'm not –"
"Shut up!"
Not a brilliant rebuttal, exactly, but it does the trick – Junno shuts up, now looking totally confused. Which is good; it gives Ryo a moment to breathe and think and try to calm down.
"Look, just." Because yeah, Ryo said – but so what, Ryo says a lot of stupid things, you'd think Junno would know that by now. "I don't know where the fuck you grew up, but around here, if your partner's involved then so are you. Got that?"
Junno blinks.
"So let me tell you how this is going to go. You tell me everything you've found out so far about the protection racket in Yokohama and Tomo's murder and everything else, and then we nail those bastards together. No more of this running off alone bullshit. Got it?"
More blinking, and Ryo has never seen Junno this at a loss, this helpless. Not even when he was tied down and spread open and desperate for Ryo, all dishevelled and touchable and needy – and Ryo doesn't even know why that image popped in his head just then because, seriously, off topic much?
"Got it, Ryo-chan," Junno says softly, almost shyly. And a beat later, he smiles.
There's a confused moment of Junno smiling at Ryo all soft and wide-eyed and sweet and warm, like Ryo's some kind of – whatever – and Ryo can't look at him because it's too much and he's almost sure he's blushing, and doesn't even know why. He really has to get a hold of himself because he's been all over the place lately, and this, this is just ridiculous, he's not some teenager or –
And then he realizes that he's never going to get rid of that damn nickname.
Oh well. To be honest, he doesn't actually mind all that much.
"So, uhm. Ryo-chan." Junno smiles again, and this time it's a hopeful smile, almost shy. Ryo's starting to recognize all of the different flavors Junno's smiles come in, and it's weird how much he likes that thought. "Would you like to have dinner with me tonight? There's a really good Korean barbecue restaurant near my place."
"What, dinner like a date kind of thing?"
It just bursts out, before Ryo can think. Once his brain has caught up with his mouth Ryo wants to kick himself, because that came out all wrong. Almost confrontational, almost angry, which isn't what he feels like at all...
But Junno doesn't bristle or backpedal, doesn't look away from Ryo, just holds his gaze steadily. "Yeah, dinner just like a date thing."
Of course that's the moment that all of Ryo's words abandon him completely, washing away in a rush of tangled emotions, leaving him high and dry and looking like an asshole.
Another beat, and Junno blinks, the soft smile beginning to fade. "If you – it would also be great to have dinner with you as a partner thing. They do say it can get awkward, dating in the workplace..."
"Who cares what idiots say," Ryo forces out, and clears his throat, and then feels his face grow hot as he remembers announcing that Junno is his and meaning it with every fiber of his being.
He really hopes he isn't blushing again, though he suspects it's a vain hope. But if the way Junno's face lights up makes Ryo feel funny, then whatever. It's just the lingering effects of the orgasm, that's all.
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