Shinada Tetsuo had come back into town with a certain swagger in his step. Not only were his debts paid and a long-lost friendship relived, but he'd saved a life and had been invited home with open arms by some of his favourite people.
A night of Milky's best service had been something he'd looked forward to. Of course he was excited; he was a fan of hers and she was more than just a business partner anymore. Milky was a genuine friend. Most people did not write adult articles about their friends, but Shinada lived in a different world to most people. At one point he had debated with himself on whether or not he had actual feelings for the woman. She was gorgeous after all.
Making his way home, he almost didn't notice a familiar face approach him on the street. It wasn't until he heard the accompanying voice that he looked up to see a smile beaming on Takasugi's otherwise harshly lined face that he remembered the man existed.
“Shinada! Hey!” The loan shark seemed to be flagging him down in a flamboyant manner that earned a little smile from him.
“Takasugi? You got your money?” Shinada raised his eyebrows and nodded towards the briefcase in his hand.
The man chuckled and threw his arm over him. “Absolutely, my friend. Are you looking to celebrate? I know I am.”
It wasn't exactly out of character for him – the guy was way too affectionate for someone he was meant to be handling business with. He was a fan, though. It certainly explained a lot of his behaviour. Despite his supposed contempt for the ex-athlete he was certainly keen to follow him like a shadow.
“Why not?” He smirked as he added, “So long as you're buying.”
“If you had asked me that a couple of weeks ago I'd have cut your neck, Shinada.” He steered him in the direction of wherever he was headed, laughing a rough but homely cackle. He seemingly already knew where to take him. Obviously a lot more thought had gone into this than Shinada had thought.
“You know, Shinada...”
Takasugi wasn't exactly drunk enough to make an excuse for himself, but he was feeling daring enough to spill the truth anyway. Perhaps he owed it to him after having threatened to take his fingers. He came very close to him and almost whispered.
“I don't have kids. I'm not even married.”
Shinada raised his eyebrows, examining his face as if searching for a punchline. “What?”
“I'm totally single, man. No kids.” He gave a soft little smile.
The other reacted a lot more than he had expected. “Wait, you really mean that? You lied?”
“I guess I never found the right person.” Staring into his glass, he probably looked a little sadder about that fact than he intended to. After all, Shinada's face flinched with sympathy.
“How? You're like...”
“Like what, man? Like what?” The bartender nodded to both of them, checking if they wanted further drinks. They made their order and watched drinks pour into fresh, clean glasses.
“You're a good looking guy. You've got money, and you're funny.”
Takasugi laughed from deep within his chest. “If only other people knew me like you do.” His face disappeared behind his glass, but the slight flush in his skin was still very visible.
Shinada sipped his own drink, seemingly pacing himself a lot more than the other was. “I'm sure some of them can. Maybe you're not approaching it right.”
“Oh, and what's a good approach?”
He made an overdramatic nasal sound to indicate that he was giving it thought. “Well, they say confidence is the most important thing when approaching someone, right?
“That's what they say.”
“Personally I think confidence is harder to come by than those people think... At least for average people like us, eh?” He reached up to invite Takasugi in for a high five. The older man groaned in protest but eventually obliged him. Watching him hover was excruciating, and looking at those big eyes of his with their pleading expression was bugging him in a way he couldn't explain.
The amount of drinks he had purchased hadn't been a drastic number higher than what Shinada had ordered, but it seemed his threshold wasn't particularly high. It made sense though, since the writer was essentially a slab of muscle compared to him.
Feeling a little bad for him, Shinada flagged down a taxi and eased him into it by his shoulder. He nudged the address out of him and withstood the judgmental eye contact of the driver as he sat with the drunken older man slumped over him. In this moment it felt like Takasugi owed him – a situation he wasn't used to at all.
Helping him into the elevator and eventually down the hall, he gingerly fished the key out of the loan shark's pants. Fumbling with the lock and handle, he escorted him into his apartment.
It was very spacious and clean, bringing out a level of envy in Shinada he had certainly expected to feel. He decided to do his best to ignore it, walking the man into his bedroom by verbal direction.
“Right here. Here is good.”
Sinking into his mattress, he refused to let off his grip on Shinada's clothes, bringing him close enough that he was almost laying on top of him. Shinada struggled.
“Woah, woah! Are you trying to knock me over?”
Takasugi didn't answer his question, instead letting out an intoxicated whine and asking his own.
“Do you think I'd be a good husband, Shinada?”
“Huh? Of course! You'll make someone happy one day, I mean it. Now let's get you to sleep-”
He clung harder to him, dragging him in to close the distance. Shinada found himself suddenly pressed into unfamiliar bedding by the drunk weight of a man, no longer uncertain of his intentions.
“Would you want to be my wife?” He muttered into his neck, sending a chill through him that activated a fearful response in the back of his mind. He started frantically planning escape routes in his head, grasping at whatever minimal information he even had on the apartment's layout.
“Takasugi, I've gotta go home.” He didn't seem to budge despite his attempts to evade this situation. “Come on, dude. You really have to sleep this off.”
Hands were wandering over his body before he could even protest it. He wriggled, trying to shake the man off of him without hurting him. His next attempt at speaking was blocked by the other's mouth on his, hungrily kissing into him with little regard for elegance.
“Shinada, you could be my wife. I'm your biggest fan.”
He whimpered, just about drunk enough that he wasn't able to process a way of fleeing. It seemed every time he tried to arrange his thoughts another sensation interrupted him. Hands kneading at the muscles of his chest and stomach overwhelmed his mind and he wasn't sure if he could handle it anymore.
“Takasugi, that's weird. Please-”
“Kouichi. Call me Kouichi, Tatsuo-chan.” He kissed his ear, his neck and his jaw, kneading his chest and earning a groan from the younger man. “You're very smooth to touch, Tatsuo-chan.”
A hand was working his pants open and tugging them down, and he hadn't even noticed at first. He clenched his eyes shut, the dimly lit room obscuring almost everything anyway. Takasugi started to touch him indelicately, a tight grip giving an intense amount of friction with every stroke.
“K-Kouichi? I don't think we should do this.”
“Of course we should, Tatsuo-chan.”
He kissed him again, consuming him and wrapping him in it. He wanted him all to himself. He lowered himself to lick and suck at his nipple, making him squirm and moan at the sensation.
“You have such wonderful breasts, Tatsuo-chan.” He was incredibly grateful for the darkness of the room, as it obscured the vibrant rouge of his face as Takasugi showered him with compliments and touched every inch of him he could get a hold of. Deciding it might be better to get this over with, he reached down to pry open the man's belt.
“Oh, Tatsuo-chan! You're so eager.” He freed himself of his belt and brought his trousers and underwear down, the little light in the room allowing Shinada to get a less-than-thorough look at his cock. Still, the awareness of it terrified him. He needed to breathe; he needed to get the hell out of here. On the other hand, he couldn't bring himself to move a single inch. “You can have me, Tatsuo-chan. You can have me whenever you want.”
He took both of them into his fist and tugged aggressively – it seemed he also had little patience. Shinada gritted his teeth and waited for it to end, gasping and grunting in chorus with the other man who loomed over him and speared him with his eye contact.
“Ah... Kouichi... No...” He let out a moan, uttering the man's name as he recognised his climax impending. It seemed he was close enough as well, as he picked up the pace and took Tatsuo's mouth with his own again. Every kiss he locked him into was more possessive and obsessive than the last. He sobbed as he felt the pressure in his abdomen approach breaking point.
When he finally came, dripping shamefully onto his own stomach, Takasugi jerked himself to his own finish. He leaned forward, spilling his release onto the younger man's chest.
“Oh, Tatsuo-chan... I love you.” Panting in the afterglow of his orgasm, he rolled over and almost immediately drifted into a snoring sleep.
Shinada fumbled in the bathroom, his attempts to be quiet for politeness' sake overruled by the shaking of his hands. It took longer than he was comfortable with to clean the mess from his chest and stomach, and he rubbed his skin harshly with a towel until it started to sport a vibrant redness. His t-shirt covered it just fine, but it prickled with an insufferable itch. He reluctantly paid for another cab – despite the price it was better than being alone with his thoughts.
He dragged himself up the stairs to his tiny studio apartment, rubbing the bridge of his nose in a desperate attempt to relax the tension in his tear ducts. Loosening his grip, he looked up to see the second unexpected familiar face of the night.
“Tatsuo, are you alright?”
Before he knew it he was already falling, the life draining from behind his eyes as he slumped onto his knees. Dojima was at his side immediately, the thick wool of his luxurious coat making a comforting sensation to his face that was otherwise losing colour.
Awakening in his bed with a jolt, he was greeted by his old school friend's hushed words of comfort.
“Hey, it's alright. Don't panic.”
“Dojima, did I faint?”
He nodded, eyes exploring the floor as he was clearly reluctant to ask about it. “Are you feeling sick at all?”
“Yeah, I guess it's only natural.”
Dojima's eyes widened, further punctuated by the loosened and undone state of his otherwise crisp white shirt. He'd probably been thrown into a panic by what happened. Shinada felt awful.
“Did you eat something you're not used to? Did you hit your head?”
“Hey, don't freak out. It's alright.”
“It's not though, is it?”
The silence that followed only enhanced the throat-twitching anxiety that hovered over Shinada. He couldn't look at Dojima directly anymore. He was defiled and unworthy.
“I had a bad night.”
Dojima reached towards him in an attempt to make comforting contact, only to find his arm brushed away. The gesture wasn't aggressive, but it intensified the concern marked into his face.
“I'm alright, I promise.” He didn't believe a word of it, and Shinada knew this. “I'm sorry. I just don't know how to explain what happened.”
Swallowing hard, Daigo nodded with understanding, shifting to sit closer to him without making physical contact. “It's okay if you take your time. I'll help where I can.”
“Right.” He took a moment to steady his breathing. He wasn't ready to start crying before he even spoke. “Well, I was drinking with Koui- a friend. He was much more drunk than I was when I helped him get home.” Dojima listened intently as if he was taking mental notes. “He had talked to me about feeling lonely, and then when we were alone he, well...”
His voice was seizing and cracking in his throat. It was hard to arrange his words in the right order and it was becoming hard to see as well, tears clouding his vision. He glanced at the man who was listening to him, taking in the warm but serious expression he had. He could say anything to Dojima. Dojima cared about him and was trustworthy, even if he was a Yakuza.
“He touched me. He had sex with me.” It took a lot of effort not to choke on his own words, and he felt like a little child. He was vulnerable and laid bare, trembling before his school friend and prompting him to try reaching out to touch him again. This time, he contained his instinctual desire to push him away. He needed to be protected and held – he needed something, at least.
“Did you not want him to?” The hand on his shoulder was full of heat which spread through his shivering body. “Did he make you do it?”
“I didn't want it. I wasn't ready at all.” He broke into a sob, leaning into Dojima's touch as another arm came to wrap around him. Dojima cradled him as his body folded into his own. “I don't understand.”
“Who did this to you, Tatsuo?” There was a certain growl in his tone, like a wild animal upon a breach of territory. “Who is this bastard?”
Shinada wasn't sure that he wanted this to turn into a fight. Hell, Daigo had access to all kinds of muscle and there was reason to assume he'd use it.
“You have to tell me, Tatsuo.”
He knew that Daigo wouldn't let it go. He was a worrier. He always had been.
“It was Kou- Takasugi. Takasugi did it.”
“Did he hit you or anything? Are you injured at all?”
Daigo's hands were wiping at his tears, his fingertips rough but his touch caring and careful. He eventually forced his eyelids open, finding himself closer to the man than he had expected. With only centimetres between them, he felt his heart jolt in his chest.
“Tatsuo... Can I kiss you?”
He swallowed hard before muttering out a response. “Yes.”
Their lips made contact gently, the heat of Daigo's mouth tickling the surface of his skin as his eyes fluttered shut. As he gradually dropped his back onto Tatsuo's bed, he maintained his firm hold on the man, bringing him close so that he remained snugly slotted between his arms. Wrapping his own hands around Daigo, he let them rest against his back, tangling his fingers in his shirt. Breaking apart from the kiss, Tatsuo gasped for breath.
“I liked that.”
His words were simple, but didn't fail to redden Daigo's complexion. “I did too, Tatsuo.”
Reaching to brush a lock of sweat-soaked hair from the ex-athlete's forehead, he adjusted his upper body so that they could more comfortably lie down. “I'm going to sort this out, I promise.”
“You don't have to do anything, you know. I can handle it.”
Planting a kiss on his forehead, Daigo refused. “There's no way I'm missing a chance to help you again.”
Tatsuo was too tired to protest, letting his head rest on the other's shoulder and allowing himself to drift off. So long as he was here, with him, he had nothing to worry about.