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Ryuki Kuruto is a lonely, lonely little man.
He’s staring up at half the sky in Yoyagi Park and lays down on one of the cold concrete benches, waiting idly by for all the stars in the sky to turn into strings of indecipherable kanji. The virus is long gone from his bloodstreams, but that doesn’t mean it doesn’t take some form in his head, as his nightmares haven’t been so kind to him lately. Tama tries her best to rein him back in when he wakes up screaming at his ceiling fan, clammy and jumbled up in his bedsheets. She coos words of assurance at him, projects herself outside his head to brush sweat-drenched hairs from his forehead even if her fingers can’t really push them away, or mentally…puts him in a position he can’t escape from. Sometimes it helps. Sometimes the ropes that keep him forced into subspace give him a chance to breathe again before he can catch one or two more hours of a dreamless slumber before stumbling into the ABIS office. Nothing a few triple-shot espressos couldn’t solve.
Ryuki is convinced that the only thing that could fix his sleep schedule and maybe put his mind at ease would be an actual hand to cup his face, a different voice to soothe him over the panic, a real body to tighten some ropes that dug into his skin. He has a specific someone in mind, someone cool and collected, someone that he didn’t just lust over but respected, someone that could jar up all the butterflies in his brain and his stomach. It’s grossly apparent and lately he’s been so enthralled by the thought of them that he can’t look Tama in the eyes of her holograph. It’s why he left her at home to charge, around his bedtime, so he could slip away from his barren and dreary apartment to wallow in the park. If he’s partnered with Mizuki, he can feel the judgment emanating from her like the strong stench of nicotine from a chronic smoker. It seems like a harsh analogy for a young woman barely turned eighteen, but it’s Mizuki. She’d probably love to know that her presence has that kind of bite. And despite her critical eye (and Aiba, who absolutely feels the same) Ryuki just can’t stop thinking about-
“Couldn’t just mope at Brahman, could you?”
Date Kaname’s face is hovering maybe ten centimeters above his own as he eclipses the half moon and the barren branches of dormant trees. Out of shock Ryuki almost reels forward and knocks the other man in his forehead but stops himself, instead deciding to press further into the slab of stone.
“M-Mr. Date!” he says, floundering.
Date is cracking up and pulls away from Ryuki’s vision, knocking his head back in laughter. “C’mon, things are at least a little back to normal. Nobody split in half has been found sticking to the side of a building. Gen made lamb keema curry tonight and probably saved you leftovers. Still feeling off?”
Off is a perfectly simple way of summing it up. “Something like that.”
“Hey, I get it. There was a few months like that after the whole switcheroo.” Date’s hand loops around in the air in the shape of a mobius strip, and Ryuki gets what he’s trying to say. “Waking up every day with a different face than I knew I should’ve, constantly asking myself who I really was, I wasn’t myself for a bit. I couldn’t go an hour without tossing or turning on HItomi’s thighs when I got invited over for dinner!”
Ryuki sometimes forgets about the fact Date might be leaving a family somewhere when he was out painting the town red or philandering. He remembers once hearing at Brahman over a highball or four that Date was a rolling boulder set out to crush whatever conquest was in his way. The Sagan household always seemed like a peaceful place that his quick psyncs couldn’t find the lie behind. Which has Ryuki thinking, while it’s just the two of them, some water fowl stirring in the distance, and a weak gust of wind that makes the trees shake.
“I’m surprised you got the little details back so soon as well, Sir,” Ryuki remarks, knowing Date had his own mental decline in the past, even if it was a mild case of six year amnesia.
“It’s all the important stuff, Ryuki. Especially if it’s about people you care about.” It feels targeted at him, strangely, and he realizes that he’s stopped looking around the moonlit park and only at the man whose face is framed by ashen blonde locks.
“Did she uh,” Ryuki stumbles, “Why aren’t you at the Sagan residence right now?”
“Oh, y’know how it is! We’re still putting things back together. I might be Date Kaname, but I’m still not exactly the guy she got engaged to all that time ago. I’m a rolling stone, baby. Gathering no moss here!” Ryuki gets the gist of what he means and is taken aback by how blase Date shifted into the topic of what’s probably an open marriage. He’s not sure how he feels about that. He certainly knows how Tama would feel about it, and hears her phantom voice shouting at him that being a cavalier chauvinist isn’t something to be worn like a badge of honor.
And yet.
Maybe he has a very small chance, Ryuki thinks.
It’s the dumbest idea he’s had in a while and that’s saying a lot. Top of the list is signing away the real estate of his left eye socket, and getting bold enough to hit on his superior while stone-cold sober is at least in the top three. But Ryuki’s brain is stuck on the fact Date noticed he wasn’t at Brahman. He was anticipating his arrival. He might’ve missed him. It was too juicy to pass up even for someone as spineless as him.
“Your daughter,” Ryuki says, not sure how to get the full sentence out. He can speak coherently, despite the fact some days it feels like his tongue is going to betray him and go on a rapid-fire gibberish session like it had when he was infected.
“Mizuki?” Date replies.
“She’s a good kid. Well, a good agent.” It’s easy to forget she’s an adult with a job and less of that twelve-year-old better at comforting innocent bystanders than he was at the sight of the first half body being found. He’s got five years up on her and yet there’s a level of street smarts that still hasn’t gotten beaten into him yet. “She’s younger than me but she looks out for me like an older sister.”
Date chuckles in agreement. “Yeah, she’s a little too wise beyond her age. I worry she’s gonna burn out too soon, but that’s why I left Aiba with her inst-”
“Especially about you.”
“Me?”
“She sees how much I look up to you and tries to bring me back to the ground a little bit. I think Tama tells her a little more than she should.” Tama doesn’t have to tell Mizuki a single goddamned thing, to be honest. Mizuki is sharp, observant, not just a superhuman powerhouse with a pipe but the most observant person he knows aside from Date.
“Well what can I say, you’ve got good taste then. I’m glad all that advice I gave you when you were a rookie panned out!”
“Mr. Date, I don’t think you understand.” Ryuki isn’t sure where this bout of nerve comes from. He can’t blame it on sickness, Tama, a fear of death, or anything else. It’s just him, Date, the muted drone of cars on a thoroughfare a few blocks away, and a flickering lamp by the lake proper. “I don’t just look up to you. I mean, I want to be a good detective. I wanna be like you. But I also.”
This time he knows to cut himself off because the phrase “I want you” is so straightforwardly perverse that it feels wrong coming from his mouth. He isn’t a smooth talking bachelor nor a tantalizing buxom silhouette with lust dripping from his voice. He’s clammy, nervous, and one fuckup away from getting demoted to being a beat cop, so really what more did he have to lose?
Apparently Date agrees as he laughs, loud enough to echo through the park, bouncing off the birch trees and making Ryuki’s ears ring.
“Oh I do,” says Date. “You think you can pull a fast one around on a guy who curates a good set of bedroom eyes? I see how you look at me, Ryuki.”
Parks like these are perfect, picturesque backdrops for moonlit kisses and bold confessions, but Date doesn’t venture for either. He doesn’t need to. Ryuki is caught like a gnat in a slimy web and needs little incentive to not struggle and escape.
“You’re not fooling anyone. And now that you’ve got your head back on your shoulders,” Date goes on, and the only nudge he gives Ryuki to give into his most secretive desire is the slightest touch on his chin to tilt his head and bring him to Date’s eye level. “What are we going to do about it?”
Of course Date knows a way to rig the lock in the nearby shed by the vending machines full of soft drinks and near beer. He holds the door open and ushers Ryuki in, deceptively, like a true charmer before closing the door and throwing him against the wall. It’s a shoddy enough structure that the metal on Ryuki’s belt and his keys clash on the metal paneling. Ryuki could care more if Date didn’t immediately lock lips with him. He tastes like happy hour well drinks that wash away most of the underlying spice of Gen’s cooking, and smells like the cheap air freshener in his company car. Date’s mouth takes command of the situation and leaves Ryuki gasping for breath, giving him barely enough air to blow a leaf.
Date pulls away and flashes one of those uncanny, kittenish smirks that his face can pull off. “How are we doing this?” he asks.
“Use me.” The demand feels natural to Ryuki as it leaves his mouth without any pause. He doesn’t have much else to offer and knows he can’t best Date in anything relatively erotic.
Date cocks the eyebrow half-shrouded by his eyepatch and asks “Gotten enough of concrete today, or can your knees take a beating tonight?”
Ryuki doesn’t respond but just slides down the wall of the shed instinctively, his belt and keys hitching against the sheet metal like hail. Concrete is much more pleasant when it’s not raining from the ceiling in a shadow organization’s basement, he thinks. He doesn’t even have to crouch or crane his neck, as his eyes are perfectly level to the zipper he’s watching peel down.
Ryuki’s actually a little surprised the carpet doesn’t match the drapes for the sake of keeping up appearances with his disguise, as he sees the very dark hair at the base of his dick that catches no light under the yellowing, dim lightbulb. He’s also half-surprised how close the slit at the tip of Date’s cock is close to touching his nose. Ryuki expected the man to be proficient or well-endowed. Possessing both never crossed his mind but it doesn’t strike fear for himself. Instead he salivates. His lips part and it feels involuntary, but oh so very right. Date takes it as an invitation and lets himself in, pushing past Ryuki’s teeth in shallow strokes. Ryuki can loll his tongue over his head and lets instinct take over, since he doesn’t really know what to do but tighten his lips around his shaft. He shrinks in his cheeks and lets the soft meat of them cushion around Date; it’s the most pillowy asset he could ever give the detective, and the blonde seems appreciative as he purrs in approval.
Date grows impatient and brings a hand to the back of his head, threading fingers into his locks and securing a strong, leather-clad grip. The thrusts into Ryuki’s mouth grow more assertive and poke the back of his throat, yet Ryuki isn’t as uncomfortable as he expected he’d be. Something about being pinned to the wall by duty and grabbed by the back of the head feels like a piping hot cup of chamomile or a few crushed up sleeping pills. The way Date fucks his mouth brings a quiet to his mind that rarely anything could and Ryuki’s shoulders slump but his mouth tightens again. Like a camera’s shutter aiming to get the perfect shot, it draws out the low groan he hopes for from Date. He feels a sudden splash of warmth coat the inside of his mouth and suddenly Ryuki’s whole body feels like it’s shivering, like he’s been stranded in the cold or heard his favorite song. In a way, he does. The chill of the concrete permeates his slacks and he gets to hear Date cumming without restraint in his voice, with his hair still being yanked by his steadying hand.
Date pulls out of his mouth as clumsily as change falling out of a wallet with twelve customers in line. He lets out an exhausted, adopted fatherly “whew” as he tucks his limp self back into his pants. “You gonna be okay?” he asks.
Ryuki is relieved he never strays from his basics of white button ups and black slacks so the embarrassingly large wet spot where his cock tented them can’t be seen in Date’s shadow and the dark shed. He wants to go with Date somewhere more comfortable than where the park kept its lawnmowers and trash bags. He also wants to know if to finish him off, Date would keep the gloves on and he’d feel the soft calfskin on his weeping dick or if he’d get the scandalous view of his exposed hand as it pumped the last of his barely recovered sanity out of him. But he needs a little more time. His absence is long enough that he knows he’ll just get more questions the longer he stays out, and that it’ll just be easier to go back to his studio, lock the door to the bathroom and let the experience of getting facefucked by Date play over and over again in his mind as he finishes himself off.
“Y-yeah, I’ll be fine. Just want to take a moment.” But then Ryuki realizes he might be coming across as ungrateful and stutters out “Please don’t take it as that I didn’t enjoy it!”
Date laughs and continues to buckle his belt and adjust his eyepatch, as the faintest corner of the ocular void has started peeking out from it. “I get it. You seem like the sort of guy who needs some processing time.”At the very least, Date holds out a hand to help Ryuki to his feet. Ryuki’s thoughts linger too heavily on the glove’s texture and how worn smooth the leather is, and it’s the second contributor to why he feels so dizzy standing up. It’s nice to know he’s got some baseline manners of a gentleman, despite how rough he was. The corners of Ryuki’s mouth feel like they can’t retract back to a normal shape, like a worn-out collar of a sweater. “Just let me know if you want another taste, alright, Rookie?”
Ryuki silently nods, knowing that he’ll end up asking some other day, now that he knows he could prove himself. He’ll leave Tama behind again, to not hear a quip or snide comment about his favorite superior only to face the music in the morning after the sharp buzz of his alarm clock, and that Date will keep him crawling back for more of that beautiful, calming quiet.