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The Suit Makes The Man

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"Stop fidgeting, will you? Can't you stay still for only one minute?" Jirou muffled angrily.

"Oh? Sooorry to bother you in your task, your majesty." Arms raised perpendicularly to his body, Shiba Raito glared down at the pink haired man who was currently resizing his jacket. "But you're taking too damn long. Even mechanic arms can grow numb, you mor- Ouch!" He exclaimed when a needle stung his back.

"Idiot. That's why I told you not to fidget."

Furrowing and with pins sticking out of his mouth, Jirou went back taking measurements of the blond's shoulders. For the last hours, the smaller man had been trying to get Raito in his new smoking, cutting and sewing again edges he deemed irregular, adjusting the length of the sleeves, widening one part and tightening another one… To make it short, a lot of very tedious and uninteresting things. But it couldn't be helped, actually. With his very last decent suit torn to pieces (due to many special reasons), the ex-detective had to order a new one from his usual store. Since he wasn't very selective about his outfits in general, it didn't matter to him to buy a ready-to-wear one. Besides, their suits were cheap and the owner was an old friend of his, and the dark haired man didn't want to look far.

Jirou, though, didn't agree.

"Slurp. That won't do!" He exclaimed when Raito told him about his order – a topic he really shouldn't have brought at dinner, the former detective regretted. "You're not going to buy a ready-made costume!"

"Why not? It's convenient. I don't want to spend days to get only one suit when I can just buy one…"

Jirou sighed irritably, his thumb rubbing his forehead. "It's like talking to a kid… Listen." He glared at the blond while stuffing his mouth with noodles, which, no matter what, truly made the smaller man lose a lot of his credibility. "If you don't want to look dwarfed in a cheap model, go ahead. Slurps."

"I won't look dwarfed anyway, they know my size." Raito replied with annoyance while turning the TV volume louder to cover the slurping sounds coming from the other man. Without success.

"But I tell you a tailored suit would make you look better. Slurps. Don't just assume that a ready-made costume will make you spend less money – slurps – or that a bespoke one will cost you an arm and a leg. Slurps. You know, you could find pretty cheap tailor stores – slurps – if you only looked seriously for one instead of-"

"I got it!" Raito burst. "I got it now, so stop nagging me about that when you're eating already! That's gross!"

"But you've already ordered it."

"Yeah, well. I'll get a new one. You're happy with that?"

Jirou put back his ramen bowl on the table and stared questioningly at Raito. "Why would the fact that you're buying a suit make me happy?"

"Shut up and go back eating!"

So that's more or less how, few days later when he went to pick up the long-awaited ensemble at the shop, Shiba Raito ended up, all flabbergasted, with a XXL dark green suit (he wanted a blue one) with (only God knows why) legs shorter than sleeves. Jirou sneered. Raito yelled. A lot happened… well, let's just say that the former detective had to find another store for his suits. Ah. About that suit, you ask? Well, for this one, too, they had to find an agreement.

"Don't move." The smaller man said again. "You don't want me to sting you with a needle, do you?"

"Tsk. I'll try." Shiba Raito grunted, still he let the former's hands slid rapidly on him.

Actually, it wasn't the ruined suit that made him that furious. It was… Jirou's hands. They were touching him everywhere, without any regard of what they were palpating, steady, calm, and with no hesitation of any kind. It was alright when the smaller man still was taking measurements, but then when he began squeezing lightly at the fabric to make it fit Raito's body, things started becoming tricky. At first, it was only the shoulders. Jirou was apply light pressure to his clavicles. Maybe wasn't he doing it on purpose, however it actually felt like being massaged, somehow. But Raito wasn't used to have his clothes resized, so he just thought 'Well, maybe that's a normal part.'

However, discomfort frothed in his mind when the smaller hands left the shoulders to graze at the nape of his neck. And the fact that the other man was standing behind him – thus making the former detective unable to predict his next movements – wasn't helping him in the least. "Hey, where are you touching?" He inquired an oblivious Jirou.

"What?" The latter answered half angrily, half tiredly. "You don't want your collar to choke you to death, do you? So I'm adjusting the opening. I really can't believe they made such a mess with this suit, though. Your former tailor is getting senile, if you want my opinion. ("No one asked you!")" At last, Jirou pinned two hems of the neck together. "Aren't you glad you had a handyman like me within reach to correct their mistakes?"

"For a freeloader, that's the least you can do."

Jirou sighed. "Okay, this part is done. Now the pants." He waited. "I said, pants."

"Yeah, I heard that. So what?" Impatient, Raito replied, making Jirou sigh for the second time.

"Spread your legs a little. It's where they did the worst job and I can't estimate the amount of work I have to do to make it fit… if you don't open your legs a little."

For some reason, Raito's face went flush red. "I got it! You didn't have to put it that way!"

"What way?"

"What, you say…" Raito gave up. "Just forget what I said." He complied and parted his legs few centimeters away. He then waited for that hateful hand to unnerve the rest of his human skin again, yet nothing came. Suddenly, Jirou's voice raised.

"Hey, can't you spread them a little wider?"

This time, the blond swiftly turned back to see the smaller man crouching next to him. Pins overloading his left hand and tape measure hanging from his neck (Jirou has insisted on doing the correction by himself since he didn't trust the old shop owner anymore), the guy really looked like he was truly fond of his new hobby. "Why? They're already spread, so why?"

"Well, like this, I can't reach your crot-"

"Shut it! Shut it and be happy with that!"

"All right. You called the turn." Jirou mumbled.

"What was that?"


The smaller man resumed his work on Raito's pants. First, the legs. Not much trouble. Seeing this part went by pretty fast, Raito kept the same expectations for the upper ones. He was going to be greatly disappointed for this one, though. This is why:

All of a sudden, the blond felt a faint tickling at the back of his knee. Raito assumed it was Jirou's hand at work again, so he didn't say anything. It didn't hurt, on the contrary, it was even kind of agreeable, like the contact of a feather on him. When you think about Jirou and his bold and flamboyant way of doing things in general, this is not exactly what first crosses your mind.

The resizing around the knees was over. Now it was the thighs' turn. There came the troubles. Slowly, the pressure from the smaller man's fingers was growing more persistent. Still rather quickly, they were sliding up and down on the cloth, rearranging the folds and adapting the pants' shape to Raito's. Even without looking, the latter could say that Jirou was doing a pretty nice work on the failed piece of clothes. But once again, the problem wasn't coming from his dressmaking skills, but indeed from the way he would unconsciously graze at the taller man's thighs. At first, it was very faint. Raito could bear it confidently while keeping a decent poker face. Nevertheless, things got a tad more complicated when Jirou finally moved to his inner thighs. At the first contact the fingers made, Raito unconsciously jerked.

"Sorry," Jirou apologized, "Did a pin stung you?"

Raito tried to hide his shame. "No, no… Go ahead."

How embarrassing, he bit his lower lip. He wished he hadn't agreed on having the other man helping him for that stupid suit. He wanted to stop all of that now, send the suit back to the store and just buy a new one – problem resolved – but in the same time he didn't want to answer the questions Jirou would certainly ask him later. At any rate, they were almost done. 'Bear it, bear it for a little while' He was singing in his inner self like a mantra. 'It's going to be over soon. Just a little …!'

The same faint wave of electricity again. This last one had even been stronger than the previous one, Jirou's hands now being completely planted on Raito's thighs. His back was shivering and he could feel his face growing hotter by the second, he just wished the other man wouldn't notice the sudden change in his state.

After several hours of struggling, stinging, screaming and nonsensical arguments in a tiny fitting room, Hitoyoshi Jirou was finally beaming. "Aaall right. Now it's done." Getting no his feet, he exclaimed, his hands triumphantly dusting the fabric, but his expression slightly darkened sicne the taller man wasn't moving from his position. "Raito? Raito, are you okay?"

"Of course, I'm not!" The blond turned back to glare at Jirou, fuming.

"Why? It looks perfect on you now." And sad thing was, it was completely true: in the newly refitted garments, Raito simply looked gorgeous and even sophisticated. There was only one little detail that was spoiling the sight: it was that obvious bulge protruding at groin level. "Ah…"

"Don't just 'Ah' me!"

"But why… I mean, how did it happen?"

"The hell do I know how! It's all your fault for touching where you shouldn't touch!"

"Well…" The smaller man said. "This is rather inconvenient."

" 'Inconvenient', my ass! Now get the fuck out! I have to-"

"Take care of it, I know. But…"

"But what again, you douche?" Raito inquired anxiously. He had already his back turned to the other man and was about to "take care" of himself, as he very cleverly put it.

"You're not going to dirty the suit, aren't you?"

"You kjsgmbvvh! Get out!" The blond tried to push Jirou outside, but the latter held on to the room's entrance, than at Raitou's arms.

"You're going to dirty it! I'm sure you are! I won't let that happen!"

"Jirou, you're damn annoying get out-"

"If you want to, I'll lend you a hand."


Quickly, Hitoyoshi Jirou shoved the taller man back in the small fitting room and, before he knew it, pinned the latter against one of the wall, unzipped his pants and grabbed at his cock.

"Ji-…!" Raito barely had time to understand what was happening; all he could do was gasping deeply when the smaller man's hand began an up and down movement on him. "Jirou!"

Very stoically, Jirou answered, his eyes locking with the former detective's. "I just don't want you to dirty the suit. It's a pain to clean this kind of fabric."

"It's not… Ah…" The taller man panted on the latter's forehead. He seized Jirou's wrist, but without stopping it from moving. "A reason for doing… Mmh… This kind of thing…"

"Mmh… I'd say, this place isn't the best choice for doing this… But we don't really have another choice. You don't want people to see you getting out from here with an erection, do you?"

"But I'm not… Aa…"

Raitou muffled a lustful moan when Jirou's thumb pressed a little harder at the base of his shaft before slowly rising on the underside of it. God, it felt so weird to be touched by the hand of another person… Yet so good… "Jirou… Move your hand faster."

"No way. You'll come right away."

"Then… Use something else."

Without a warning, Raito pulled Jirou's waist closer then, with his free hand, he groped at the latter's butt. Jirou grimaced. "Che. Impatient brat. But it's not as if we could take our time either…"

Jirou slightly pressed at Raito's shoulders, forcing him to lean on the wall while shuffling his body down so that he was in a sitting position, his feet pushing against the opposite wall. And it had been with eyes widened with shock that the blond looked at the smaller man pulling his pants and underwear down, taking one of his legs out before climbing on top of Raito with his legs supporting his whole weight. From his position, Raito could clearly observe the other man's intimate parts dangling in the air, barely concealed by Jirou's shirt (he had also unbuttoned his jacket in the process). Two slender and attractive thighs were opened wide, surrounding his own between them. At first glance, Jirou looked calm about the whole thing, but the vaguely quick heaving of his chest was betraying his own excitation.

"Hey! We can't do that here!" Raito suddenly panicked. Things were going too far, there were other customers outside, for Lord's sake! "People will hear us! They'll come and-"

"If we keep quiet, they won't." Jirou cut off. He pulled the taller man's length out and pumped it again, a little more slowly, this time. Anyway he didn't need to do more since the appendage was already as hard as a rock. "Umh. Did you bring lube?"

Desperate, Raito pressed his hands on his face. "Why would I bring lube with me for an trying on at my tailor's place?"

"Ah, maybe it's better this way." Jirou lifted himself up. He positioned his asshole above the head of Raito's swollen manhood and, slightly parting his ass cheeks, he slowly pushed the hard member inside. Raito breathed even louder.

"Jirou… Ah…" He whispered softly as the tight muscles of the smaller man gradually took him in, inch by inch. It was a furnace, inside of him. A taut, burning, intolerable furnace. The sphincter was contracting and relaxing around his painful shaft, making Jirou's hole alternately hard then easy to penetrate.

"Haan…" The smaller man whined when Raito totally buried himself inside. He was whining, but his face would always keep the same composure as before. Somehow, it was irritating Raito, since he was already a complete blushing, panting, shaking mess. "Hey, can you take it?" Jirou inquired. "If you can't, we can shift position…"

"I'm alright!" Blushing even a deeper red at the idea of having the smaller man fucking him, Raito grunted. "Just shut up and…"

"O-oh…" He rose up again then thrust back. Raito almost fell down, but instead gripped hard at the other male's waist and thrust his hips upwards. "Aa… Raito… Hurry…"

"Yeah, I know…" Propelling his hips up again and again, they started their mindless fucking in the narrow cabin. Jirou was holding tight at Raito's shoulders, his ass moving up and down fast on the taller man's throbbing cock. The feeling was just… maddening. Behind his blurred eyeglasses, Raito couldn't stop fixing intently at the smaller man's lips, at his glazed eyes, his naked lower half and manhood, already twitching and oozing with precum.

"Don't worry… I won't dirty it." Jirou said between two pants.

"Do you think I… give a damn about that…" Raito replied. His throat felt dry and kind of soared when he talked. Or was it only exhaustion from that oh so uncomfortable position? Anway, he was so close… He needed more of that heat entrapping him.

"Raito, yours… It grew bigger…Aah. Do you want to come already?"

"Shut… Up… We're both sweating like pigs anyway so… It's already… Ngh!"

The blond moved faster, his manhood hitting Jirou's sweetest places even harder, and stronger. It's true it was one hell of a tricky position, and the worst place they could have chosen so far, still… it was hot to hold the smaller man like this, to see him shift so lusciously onto him and bring both of them little by little to their orgasm.

"Raito…" Jirou whispered. Ah, the taller man could feel it, his moist insides growing tighter as his arousal was increasing to its peak… "Raitou…"

"Jirou, I'm… Ah-"

"Is there something wrong?" Unexpectedly, the old shop owner popped his bald head at the cabin's entrance, completely oblivious of what both men had been doing there. He startled the blond so much that eh latter practically threw the smaller man off of him. Jirou shouted: his head had hit the wall and the ground when he fell down.

"Nothing wrong, ol'man!" Raito stuttered while nervously buttoning his pants and trying to hide a half-naked Jirou crouched at his feet.

"Oooh, it looks like I interrupted the young ones." The old man sneered.

Raito was as red as a tomato. He was stuttering so much it was almost hilarious. "Interrupting? Interrupting what? There was nothing to interrupt. By the way, nice job you did on this one, ol'man!" Smiling awkwardly, Raito pointed at his rather crumpled suit.

The old shop owner beamed. "Oh, isn't it? I knew you'd love it! My supplier – ah, he's also one of my old friend, you see? – he recommended it to me. I think I bought aaaaall of his stocks, and I don't regret it at all! This model is selling like hotcakes here, and-" Blah blah blah blah. Raito wasn't even listening.

This time, for sure, he'd have to look for a new tailor.