It doesn’t take long, as always, for Chuuya to finish accomplishing his task. One flick of the hand and it’s down to the ground the enemies go. One slash of his arm and the enemies are sliced off like silken tofu, ready to be squashed like bugs. Even if there’s tens or hundreds of them, he always comes out of it victorious.
It truly is… an entertainment to behold.
“You can stop leering at me like some pervert, bastard.” Of course, no matter how aesthetically-pleasing Chuuya is, it’s such a shame that his mouth always comes up with some truly terrible barking. A rowdy, mangy dog ready to bite him anytime. “Don’t think that I don’t know that you’re the one behind this attack.”
Oops, busted. Still, he smiles as he leans back in his seat, sitting posture the very picture of a languid, satiated snake. “Mm, you truly are too small to probably have a good vantage view.” Lets his insult soak up in the other’s irritated flare of the nose. “But isn’t it obvious that today’s enemies are from the Tora Group?”
“Oh, but all of this smells so much like a goddamn stinking fish.” With those words, Chuuya fishes out a box of imported cigars from his pocket. Lights it with a flick of his fingers, gravity condensing the weight and the speed of the air particles, forming a fire out of air. He breathes in the smoke deeply, like he’s trying to chase away said ‘fishy smell’ by virtue of inhaling an entire chimney. A raised eyebrow. “You’re telling me that our headquarters with top-tier security system, suddenly finds itself invaded by a hundred enemies without anyone knowing better?”
He raises an eyebrow back. “You think that highly of our security system?” After all, he’s the one who developed it.
“No, but I know that you’re the only one with bad enough taste to make me work this hard, fucker.” Another deep inhale of the cigarette.
It truly is an entertaining sight to behold.
Chuuya’s never been the tallest, but right now he stands much like a dark tower, a shining beacon for everyone to target and fail to even scratch. Truly a novel solution, resolving his height problem by simply making sure that nobody else is left standing around him.
Blood splatters all over his suit—and it’s even headier, knowing that Chuuya has allowed the blood to land on him, just for his appreciation. Gravity manipulation should have been enough to ensure that he has a working shield surrounding him, should have been enough to ensure that he isn’t touched at all by anything.
But here he is, clothes tainted with droplets of red. His gloves gleam with a crimson sheen. The slender white cigarette on his mouth is tinged with dark red, from where Chuuya’s holding it. His shoes bear the brunt of the stains, thanks to Chuuya’s propensity for kicking his enemies until they’re crushed to a pulp.
It’s good that he’s already seated down, because it’d be terribly embarrassing to fall to his knees in front of this visage.
“Mm, but you see, it’s part of our contract, right?” He uncrosses his legs, makes himself even more comfortable in his seat. There’s the office table separating them, but that doesn’t seem to matter, because Chuuya looks at him with such disdain as though he can see him with his pants unzipped anyway. “As the Boss, I’m supposed to be able to order you around ne, Chuuya?”
Blue eyes roll towards the ceiling. Another puff from the cigarette, as though he’s trying to physically gather strength from the tobacco. His lips are in a twisted sneer. This kind of behavior, unwilling to be shackled down or commanded, should be annoying. And it is. But more than that, it’s interesting, to see just how much bloodcurdling hatred the other has saved up all for him. The contrast between such beastly rage, and the way that he comes closer anyway, his leather shoes slick with blood as they click all over the carpet.
He feels his lips twitch to a smirk.
A scoff. A pointed glare towards his unbuckled belt and his unzipped state. More importantly, towards the fact that he has his cock swelling to a half-hard state, untouched. “Shitty Boss, because of the handling of this attack, I demand compensation for all the cleaning I’ll have to do.” He lifts a leg, balancing on one foot like a particularly angry flamingo. His right pant leg is nearly black from all the blood, a sharp contrast to the original navy blue of it. “See this? I actually like this outfit and it’s all dry-clean only.”
“Ano ne, Chuuya, can’t you just use your own salary for these things? One would think that I’m not paying a hefty amount to be my bodyguard.”
“I’m entitled to work hazard pay, am I not?” The raised leg stretches out until he’s lightly tapping on the arm of the chair that he’s on. Staining it with blood. “Don’t go around being such a stingy, miserly bastard. It’s unbecoming of the Port Mafia.”
He sighs and lets his left hand trail fingers over the spot where there’s a tiny sliver of exposed skin, from between the hem of the slickly-wet pant leg and the other’s sock. Hmm, it’s great that he hasn’t pushed forward with his initial plan of bandaging even his fingertips. Because if he did, then he wouldn’t have the chance to feel just how smooth Chuuya’s skin here could be. Well, not in this kind of setting at least. Maybe he should add a line in their contract about how Chuuya can’t wear such long pants anymore?
Still, there’s no rule saying that he can’t tease him further. “If defeating a hundred enemies in under fifteen minutes is considered a ‘hazard’, I’m not so sure I should trust you with my wellbeing, chibi. Shouldn’t something of this caliber be child’s play for you?”
“You misunderstand, genius. The hazard here is referring to you.” A bloodthirsty grin that is only made more menacing by the cloud of smoke that Chuuya exhales towards him. It’s illogical, but he thinks he can smell Chuuya’s breath over the cigarette smoke. “If you don’t give compensation for my ruined clothes, it’s your head on the platter, asshole.”
Another tap of the other’s foot against the arm of his chair. Impatient and imperious, telling him to get on with it already.
He snickers and grabs a pen using his right hand. Draws his signature over that strip of skin that he’s caressing, a blank cheque of his making.
Chuuya’s reaction is swift. The tip of his shoe then smacks against his forehead, before kicking him quickly on the cheek, and then on his chin. Ah, it truly is interesting. Especially since he knows that Chuuya keeps a small blade on the tip of his shoe. The bloodstained tip that’s now dragging over the bandages on his throat. A leisurely drag over the cigarette, in contrast with his impatience. “You were saying?”
“Ah, I’ll have to reassess the damage before I can offer compensation,” he says mildly. It doesn’t manage to disguise the way that he intently grabs the other’s ankle with one hand, dragging him closer to his mouth so he can lick the skin directly. All the movement just helps spread the bloodstains even more. Droplets of blood flick over to the skin there, and he cleans up, savors the metallic twinge in his tongue.
The enemies that Chuuya has obliterated in the name of saving him. Even if Chuuya knows that he’s the one who orchestrated the attack anyway.
Ah, it truly is wonderful.
The world is full of gray, but right now there’s this bounty of red in front of his eyes. He lets his mouth travel upwards, rolling Chuuya’s pants up with the motion of his lips, until he’s kissing his way up to the swell of his calf, to the cords of his shin. Rising upwards, in the same way that he teases himself with upward strokes, his right hand leisurely jacking himself off at the same time.
He sneaks a look over at Chuuya. He almost swallows down the saliva that makes his mouth water at the sight. Cool disdain. Not indifference, because Chuuya’s anything but that. But there’s so much disdain there, like Chuuya is cursing him to his very marrow right now. But he still stands there, looking down at him from a higher vantage view for once. The angle makes his eyes look like the steel gray of lightning. Cutting and cold, while also being blindingly hot at once. A study of impossible contrasts made possible by such a singularity.
—Almost swallows down, but thinks better of it. He lets his mouth gape open even more, wetting Chuuya’s leg in the process. Continues kissing up, up, up, until he has bunched up the pants over the other’s thighs. Ah, he really should encourage Chuuya in buying from this tailor once more. The tailoring is excellent, providing so much give to the clothes even while letting it embrace his legs intimately on a daily basis.
“Mm, how’s that?” He asks, laughter in his voice as he ends his ‘clean up’ with one hearty suck over the skin on the other’s inner thigh. “I’ve assessed the damage and cleaned it up for you. Aren’t I such a wonderful Boss?”
“No, it only proved that you have mental damage, fucker.” A roll of his eyes, but even he can’t remain so unaffected. His cheeks are flushed red and his lips over his cigarette are twitching. “Also stupid, because the compensation I’m looking for is for my clothes, not for my skin.”
“Ah, is that so?” Dazai then lifts his right hand—wet with his precum—and wipes it over Chuuya’s right knee. “That seems like a stain that needs clean-up too.”
Chuuya moves to kick him in the face again, so he moves even faster, tugging at the other’s leg so that he’ll come even closer. So that he’s nosing directly into the other’s groin. It’s an awkward angle, especially for Chuuya, but he’s flexible enough for it anyway. No trembling strain on his body, even as he’s forced to half-kneel over his lap.
A snarl, and even without the aid of gravity, and even while his right leg is held hostage, Chuuya moves his body forward, as though to choke him with his clothed dick, as though to knee his exposed cock into a pulp. But because Chuuya is a loyal, wonderful person, there isn’t enough force to cause him damage anyway. It only serves to make him moan in delight, the added pressure on his cock so he can hump Chuuya’s left leg, the scent of the other’s arousal evident even over his pants.
“Say, you’re quite dirty, aren’t you?” More laughter. “Perhaps I should inspect you entirely before I approve any compensation.”
Chuuya reaches out to strangle him. Using his bloodstained gloves. “Fuck you very much,” is what he says. A steely glare that shows just how he’s earned several monikers, such as the King of Sheep. Truly like an angry king, who knows that he has the power to wage wars with just one sweep of his eyes.
But it’s just that, and his head doesn’t fly off from his neck.
Ah, his chibi really spoils him—
He grins and then gives one reverent kiss over the other’s clothed groin.
—So he should spoil right back, right?
An hour later, Chuuya’s clothes are nowhere to be found anymore, but there’s a mass order for twenty of the same suits coming out of the Boss’s personal fund.