In the House of Lies

BY : antilogicgirl
Category: Descendents of Darkness/Yami No Matsuei > General
Dragon prints: 1792
Disclaimer: I do not own Descendants of Darkness (Yami no Matsuei), nor any of the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

A/N: Hello. I hope that you all are doing all right. Well, if you aren’t, I hope that this little gift will raise your spirits. The chapter’s a tad long, but that’s because of some very nice activities that our boys get down to. Please enjoy, but keep some napkins handy for the later part of the chapter.

Chapter 4: Sacrifice

Tatsumi Seiichirou considered himself a patient man…for the most part. Truly, he had a wealth of that virtue, but there was little that could be done when it was himself with whom he was losing tolerance. He walked, once again, to the village. It was early morning, just after breakfast, and he had left Watari to his duties as physician. The other man had made a show of giving him the morning off, calling him lazy and shoving him out of the door, saying that he would prefer it if Tatsumi was out of his way, rather than in it. Of course it had irked him that Watari did this in front of the servants, but that was the entire point. It was one of the very few ways they could think of to make it seem less suspicious for Tatsumi to conduct his investigations.

Now, as he walked, rather than thinking of a way to get the villagers to give him information on the curse of the Kurosaki family, all he could think of was the feeling of warm, wet skin. It had taken every bit of self-possession he had to make himself loosen his fingers from where they had been buried in sodden hair and draw away from Watari’s mouth. His lips still tingled, even after more than an hour, and there were parts of him that were so tense he felt he might snap in two. He knew that there had to be some kind of policy within the Shokan Bureau that dealt with these things. Partners should not be allowed this kind of intimate contact, should they? He had certainly wanted it with Tsuzuki, long ago. That attraction seemed paler now, in the face of this completely illogical, utterly gratuitous and senselessly blinding need he felt for the seemingly flighty scientist.

He had even called Watari by his given name…something he had never even done with Tsuzuki. It had seemed so right when he did it, almost necessary. Yutaka…the name simply melted in his mouth, like chocolate and honey. His foot stumbled on a root when he felt his body tense further at the thought of chocolate, honey and a few rather private areas of Watari’s body. Stopping on the path, he gave himself a shake. “Get hold of yourself,” he said aloud, “you can handle this.”

But he was not sure that he really could. Tatsumi felt so violently attracted to Watari that it was difficult at times not to simply give in to the almost constant stream of fantasies that floated through his head when he was near his partner. He had wanted him so badly this morning, to hold him…touching and tasting things that he had not in so very long that Tatsumi was unsure he remembered clearly what that kind of intimacy was like. But his practical side, as well as the protocol of their assignment, forbade such behavior. Though, he had to admit that the tiny voice in the very back of his head was beginning to seem much more sensible when it talked about throwing caution, inhibition, duty, practicality, and common sense out of the proverbial window.

In a perfect world, things could be put on hold until their assignment was finished. But as he had discovered nearly thirty years ago, this world was far from perfect. Tatsumi would suddenly catch himself staring at Watari’s mouth, wishing to find excuses to kiss him. He watched how the scientist had a tendency to bite his lower lip when he concentrated, how he licked them when he was nervous, and the way they moved when he spoke. And it had been so hard when he was holding him. It was the most difficult thing to keep himself in check, not to kiss him, not to act on the dreams he’d had. His fingers had itched to pull away that towel, to make Watari say his name in that same breathy way he had in the shower.

A whimper escaped him when he realized what these thoughts were doing to his body. Wondering briefly if Watari had such problems, he began walking again.

--

A frown pulled at the corners of Watari’s mouth. “Kurosaki-san,” he said after taking a deep breath and trying unsuccessfully to keep the testiness out of his tone, “I understand that the records Doctor Hazama kept have disappeared…but it is necessary, you surely must understand, to establish for myself her general state of health. Because those records were taken, we’re starting from square one here.” The head of the household sat on a cushion, holding a cup of tea delicately in one hand while cocking his head slightly to listen to him. Watari had noticed this behavior in many people who have been sight-impaired for lengthy periods. For a moment, he wondered. What precisely was wrong with the man’s eyes?

But Watari put that thought out of his mind in favor of trying to convince the irritating man that the tests and procedures he was doing were necessary. “I must take her vital signs several times each day, and monitor her reactions to the medicines, just as normal, but I need the blood work, as well. How else am I to determine the cause of her illness if I cannot perform the necessary tests?”

Kurosaki Nagare sighed. “Yes, yes. I suppose that you are correct. However,” at this, the tone of Nagare’s voice gained an edge that any katana would be jealous of, “if you are going to do any more of these invasive procedures, please explain them to me fully before they are performed. I want to understand what you do to her.”

Though the doctor would never have called a simple drawing of blood to be invasive in any way, Watari was not about to argue with the man. If they were to discover what was going on here, and possibly defuse the situation, it was necessary for his cooperation…up to a certain point.

“Yes, Kurosaki-san.” Watari waited to be dismissed, but the usual ‘thank you, Watari-sensei’ did not come. “Is there…anything else you wish to speak with me about, Kurosaki-san?”

It was a very long, and somewhat tense silence that came after his question. More than three full minutes later, Nagare pursed his lips, obviously considering. “I believe…that I may have need of your services on a more long term basis, Doctor.” Watari was glad for a moment that the other man could not see him. Otherwise, he’d have seen the look of utter shock that popped up onto Watari’s face. His eyes widened to what must be a comical extent, and then blinked rapidly.

Trying to keep his voice level, he asked, “For what purpose, Kurosaki-san? If I have the good fortune to develop a cure for the lady’s illness, will my services be needed further?” There was a slight, tense nod from the man who looked so much like his young friend. “I am happy to help, Kurosaki-san. Will there be another patient? Are your eyes growing worse?”

In a dismissive tone, Nagare replied, “No, Watari-sensei. I am not the one that will need a physician. Nor, for that matter, will your current patient, once you have cured her.” Now, Watari was highly confused. His eyebrows were in the process of trying to climb into his hairline when that smooth voice began again. “I will be retaining your services for my…mistress.”

Unable to restrain himself, Watari blurted in a strangled tone, “E-excuse me?”

Nagare frowned slightly, skewing his delicate features. Taking a deep breath, the man leaned forward slightly, “Watari-sensei, I hope that you and your assistant can be trusted to be discreet. It has most likely become apparent through your examinations that your current patient can not bear children…” Watari made an affirmative sound, shifting on his cushion. He most certainly did not like the sound of that. “I have taken steps to secure a new heir for my family. The girl is not yet with child, but if all goes as planned, she soon will be. I will need you to ensure that she is in the best of health, as well as my child.”

Watari could hardly believe his ears. He swallowed back his disbelief, trying very hard to think. The Kurosaki family, though well-intentioned, seemed to have become twisted right along with the village. They had, for centuries…sixteen generations…perpetuated the curse that was placed on them for doing the only thing that their ancestor had thought was right. Watari suddenly felt disgusted with the entire assignment. Nothing he would say could make this man change his mind, though, so he simply replied, “Yes, Kurosaki-san.”

Nodding, Nagare said quietly, “Thank you, Watari-sensei,” and sipped his tea.

The scientist made a hasty exit, backing out of the room.

--

The village was quiet, as it always seemed to be. Perhaps he should have gotten the impression from Hisoka about the boy’s upbringing and the environment in which he had been raised, but there seemed to be a general hush over the entire area. Children were by and large quieter here than any other place Tatsumi had been, and he thought that it was very unusual. The festival had been filled with color and music, laughing and shouts, but they must have gotten all that out of their systems.

People walked the streets slowly, subdued in both manner and dress. Colors seemed to be restricted to the muted shades of green, gray, and blue that the Kurosaki family and their servants tended to favor, and Tatsumi felt almost as if they were frightened to behave in a way that Nagare might not agree with. He had never lived near such an influential family, so Tatsumi did not understand such things, but he supposed that it was difficult.

As he approached the building that served as both the home of the Mayor and the repository for the town’s records, Tatsumi felt as if he were being watched. The sensation of eyes on him was strong, and he was certain that if it did not cease soon, he would go mad. But when he looked around, he saw nothing but people minding their own business. If he was being watched, then who were they, and where were they hiding? The feeling of not knowing was beginning to drive him insane. Though he could easily find out, he decided that it would be best if he did not. There were far too many people around for him to simply loose his shadows to find the person who was observing him.

The house was not so large as Kamakura, as the Mayor seemed only the figurehead, the puppet through which the Kurosaki family still controlled the area. It was, however, still rather sizeable. A sprawling two-story complex with wide porches and walkways in the traditional style, the Mayor’s house was one of the more prominent structures in the town. The entire thing was constructed of wood, which had been painted a dark green, and shingled, then surrounded by a high wall. The gates to the place were no less than three meters high, painted a dark red, and studded in bronze. Frowning at these defensive measures, Tatsumi wondered for a few seconds if the walls were meant to keep people in, or out.

He approached the gate cautiously, still feeling that tickle between his shoulders. Putting the thought aside, he focused on the task at hand. This was going to take a lot of work, time, and an enormous amount of finesse. These country people were always wary of outsiders, and Tatsumi was going to have to overcome that, along with other obstacles. Raising his fist, he knocked three times at the large gate that led into the dooryard. After a few moments, a middle-aged woman came to greet him. “Hello,” she said mildly, “you must be the young man helping the doctor over at the Kurosaki house…” Her eyes, keen and shrewd, yet not without kindness, fell on Tatsumi in a way that made him feel welcome.

Giving her a bow, Tatsumi said in his clipped, formal accents, “Yes, Madame, I am. My name is Tatsumi Seiichirou.” When he straightened from his bent position, he smiled at her, if only a little. “At the festival, one of Kurosaki-san’s servants was kind enough to tell me about the Kurosaki family legend. It is very interesting. I thought that since Watari-sensei has given me the morning for free time, I might come here and learn more about it.” The woman regarded him with a curious gaze, the corners of her mouth quirking upward into a knowing smile.

She opened the door wider, and stepped aside. “Please, come in, Tatsumi-san.” He entered the gate, and she shut the door. “I am the Mayor’s sister,” the woman said in her almost too-sedate voice, “you may call me Akane.” Tatsumi murmured an agreement, along with his pleasure at meeting her. Without another word, Akane began walking to the house. She took him in through a side entrance, and waited as Tatsumi untied his shoes, removing them and placing them to one side. “This way, Tatsumi-san.” The corridors in this part of the complex wound and twisted nearly as much as those at Kamakura, the hardwood floors creaking slightly at their passage.

Finally, after what seemed like fifteen minutes of walking slowly behind Akane, they came to another large door. She gave a sharp rap on the center of the door, then stepped back. It took a few moments, but the black-painted door slid open, revealing a small, hunched figure. Akane leaned down and whispered to the tiny man, and his watery eyes widened for a moment before landing on Tatsumi. Akane straightened, and said, “Tatsumi-san, this is Ichirou. He will help you with anything you might need. I will send tea for you momentarily.” Then, she looked sternly at Ichirou. “You behave yourself, old man.” This only made the dwarfish man chuckle, which caused Akane to click her tongue at him before she made a curt farewell.

Shaking his salt-and-pepper head, Ichirou watched Akane go. “She never has been very personable…at least not with me.” Then, those watery eyes looked up at Tatsumi, a twinkle of mischief in them that reminded him much of a combination between Tsuzuki and Gushoshin the elder. “You are far too tall, young man. I believe I may just have to make you sit so that I don’t get a crick in my neck looking up at you.” The corner of Tatsumi’s mouth quirked up in spite of himself, and Ichirou laughed out loud. “So you do have a sense of humor?”

Tatsumi gave a small cough. “Yes, Ichirou-san, but I am afraid that it is rather dry.”

One gnarled hand rose and slapped his elbow as Ichirou raised one of his shaggy eyebrows. “Good man. I love a sarcastic personality.” Then, he seemed to remember that Tatsumi was not there to visit with him, and gave a little jump. “Well, let’s get you settled at the table. Then I can go find you what you need.” The little man turned and re-entered the room, standing to one side until Tatsumi was inside, then he slid the door shut and locked it. At Tatsumi’s questioning look, Ichirou waved his hand, saying in a dismissive tone, “If I did not lock it, Akane would be barging in here every five minutes with her nagging.” A roll of watery gray eyes followed this pronouncement, as if having the woman in his presence was a punishment reserved for those who had perpetrated offenses equal to driving too slow in the fast lane, and child molestation.

Tatsumi was soon seated at a long, low table, and the small man had trotted off to fetch the first of what he said was likely to be many sets of scrolls. Apparently, there was much written about the Kurosaki family’s legendary past. He also requested writings on certain of the generations of the Kurosaki family itself. For example, he was quite interested in why there would have been a woman as head of one generation. Murasaki had been Ren’s great-great granddaughter, if it was not as Miya suggested, only a man who had been given a woman’s name to toughen him up. If it had been a woman that served as the master of the fifth generation after Kurosaki Ren, then why had they allowed such a thing? These old families were very peculiar in their traditions, and extremely rigid.

But then again, if Murasaki had been a very strong woman, then perhaps it was thought of as a good thing to have her lead? Tatsumi closed his eyes against the headache this line of thought was giving him. He had no way of knowing such things, and making assertions as to what they might have been thinking ten generations ago was truly going to split his skull. A knock came at the door, and he heard Ichirou call, “Tatsumi-san, that will be one of the servants with tea…Please unlock the door! I’m elbow-deep in dust and moldy scrolls!”

Tatsumi gave a soft, almost-but-not-quite exasperated snort before he went to the door and flipped open the lock catch. Sliding it open, he blinked in surprise. “Miya?”

The girl’s eyes widened in horror for an instant before she could stop herself. But that expression was gone very soon, in favor of her usual cheerful smile. “Tatsumi-san! What a surprise! I did not expect to see you at my grandfather’s house…” She peered around him, at the empty reading room, and her smile turned nervous. “I…Akane-dono asked me to bring tea, Tatsumi-san.” He moved aside, watching the girl carefully as she set down the tray she carried. Tatsumi was mildly surprised at the girl’s slip of the tongue. At the festival, she had only introduced the old man as the Mayor of the town, but not as her grandfather, which would have been polite. Was everyone here hiding something?

Miya stammered a farewell, then backpedaled quickly from the room, leaving Tatsumi staring after her. Why was it that things seemed to be getting more and more complicated? His eyes narrowed, and his mouth drew downward in a frown as he locked the door once again. He had just settled down and poured tea from the small green pot when Ichirou brought in his ‘first load’ of scrolls. There were five large and rather heavy rolls of parchment weighing him down, causing his back to bend further. Tatsumi quickly stood and took them from him, allowing the old man to straighten up a bit.

“Thank you, young man. Now, let’s see…set those beastly things down on the table.” He did as he was told, and the next thing he knew, Ichirou’s nimble fingers were untying knots and unrolling scrolls, scanning their contents, and with a speed and efficiency that Tatsumi could only envy, sifted through information. He cleared his throat, and pulled a small bag out of his sleeve. When he thrust his hand inside, Ichirou withdrew what looked like a white Go stone. Placing the stone at what seemed to be an arbitrary point on the first scroll, he said, “This is where the legend of the Kurosaki family lineage begins, my boy. For the most part, this scroll is decently boring, unless you count the fact that it lists what people were staked out in the marshes for the tide to drown.”

Tatsumi thought for a long moment. “Does the scroll explain how those people were chosen? The sacrifices?”

Another Go stone was placed on the old parchment. “This is where you’ll find the requirements for that. Now…on to the next one.” Further up the table, Ichirou placed the second of the scrolls. “This is a detailed history of the Kurosaki family. It is dreadfully boring. Why do you even want to look at it?”

Tatsumi smiled slightly. “The Kurosaki family has had many unfortunate members. When I was glancing at the family tree that I found in a storage area, I saw a few interesting occurrences…for example, the fifth generation’s master was a woman, I believe?”

At this, Ichirou grinned. “Ah, so you’ve discovered her, have you?” The man unfurled the scroll, stopping it approximately halfway down the table. Once he had re-rolled the beginning part to save space, Ichirou placed another stone on about midway through the text that was currently visible, he said, “You’ll find her at least a bit less boring than the others. Murasaki was…not so traditional as the rest of her family.” What Ichirou could mean by that, Tatsumi had no idea. Three other scrolls were opened, two of which were first-hand accounts of the battle fought between Kurosaki Ren and the demon Yatonokami. The last of these, however, was something for which he had not asked. Tatsumi opened his mouth to say that he did not wish to read the old Mayor’s journal, but Ichirou put a hand on his arm, shaking his head.

The old man picked up the small document and pressed it into his hands. Ichirou leaned close, and in a voice that was very, very quiet, said, “This is something that will interest you. Please, young man…the injustice done so long ago must end.” Tatsumi’s eyes widened as he watched the wrinkles of the old face before him pull into a grimace of desperation. He nodded, taking the thing and slipping it into his pocket. “Do not let it be discovered that you have this, Tatsumi-san. It is dangerous information.”

Tatsumi looked from the old man’s face to the scroll and back again. “Then why give this to me? You do not know me.”

Ichirou managed a bark of laughter. “You speak the truth,” said the archivist, “but I recognize you all the same. A man of my age has seen death enough to know it when he sees those who wear it like a second skin. You’re no more alive than Murasaki is now, but you mean well. That much I do know.”

Nodding again, Tatsumi patted at Ichirou’s shoulder. “My secrecy is something you can count on, Ichirou-san. Thank you.” After he had made certain that the old man knew he would not be indiscreet, Ichirou nearly sagged in relief before plopping down and grumbling quite loudly that he was glad Miya brought two cups, because he was thirsty. It took every ounce of patience that he had to simply not stand up and walk out, the precious burden in his pocket called to him so. Instead, he gave a slight chuckle and settled in with his tea and the first scroll. “Drink then, Master Ichirou. The tea is fresh.”

--

Drained of all energy, Nagare fell to one side, into his futon. He pulled Miya’s still-trembling form next to him, and covered their bodies with blankets. Her voice was soft, gentle as it always was, “Mmm…thank you, Master. I don’t know if I will be able to walk…” when he asked if she needed to see the doctor, she laughed huskily before putting his worries to rest. “It was wonderful. I like the way you feel inside me…” Obviously she did, because she had sought him out, even before he had planned to send for her. Nagare cradled the girl’s body against his, pulling her kimono back into place over her shoulders.

“Miya,” he said quietly, “when we are like this, you can call me Nagare.”

He felt her nod against his chest, murmuring sleepily, “Yes…I will. Nagare-sama…” A tender feeling developed in his chest at the feeling of her even breathing, knowing that she was now asleep on his chest. This feeling was strange, but not altogether unwelcome.

--

Watari was concentrating deeply on his analysis of his patient’s blood when the door banged open. His head turned distractedly toward the sound. Tatsumi was standing there, looking rather harassed, his tie loosened and hair askew. His eyes looked almost hunted, and they darted around the room until dark blue irises pointed directly at Watari. This uncharacteristic behavior continued when the tall man groped behind him to find the door and slide it shut again. He then strode over to where the scientist sat, grabbing him by the collar of his lab coat and pulling him up from the floor.

When the blonde squawked in surprise, Tatsumi merely grabbed a handful of his hair and pulled him close, whispering in his ear, “We are being watched, Watari…I have things to tell you; important things…but they are listening, as well.” The secretary’s tongue traced his earlobe, and Watari gasped. Of all ways to disguise a conversation…why that? It was impossible for him to acknowledge Tatsumi’s statement. His mind was still not caught up to the fact that the taller man was molesting his ear. “Do you have any ideas to thwart their spying?” Teeth replaced the wetness of Tatsumi’s tongue, and Watari sighed, almost not hearing when the other man asked in his deep voice, “Are you listening, Yutaka?”

He pulled just enough of his mind together to reply in a desperate tone, “Yes…Oh, say my name again…it sounds…sinful when you say it like that…” And it did. Tatsumi’s voice was like dark chocolate for the ears. A hard bite just beneath his ear made him cry out in what he knew was supposed to be pain, but ended up being something entirely different. Frantically clawing at his sanity through the violent jolt of pure heat that had seized his body, Watari groaned before whispering, “Ah…f-fine…I left…my anti-eavesdropping equipment at the lab…oh God, you’re going to have to stop that, or I’ll have to make this much less of a farce—aaaaagh!” Another bite followed the licks that were so driving him mad, and Watari felt his knees go weak.

That smooth, dark chocolate voice laughed lowly, almost evilly, before he said, “I have an idea. Since discussion is…somewhat impossible at the moment, why don’t we talk about what I discovered later, Yutaka?” The hold Tatsumi had on his hair slackened, and large hands were then stripping him of his lab coat, his gloves, yanking the ribbon from his hair, shucking the shirt over his head…he wasn’t serious…was he? Now that evil mouth was attached to his skin again, biting and licking its way down his chest, and nearly causing him to have a seizure when his nipple was lightly bitten.

“T-Tatsumi, wait—“ a hard suck on the sensitive spot made him cry out again before the secretary stood to his full height once again and leaned down to speak in a gruff voice.

“I told you to call me Seiichirou, Yutaka.”

These words were spoken against Watari’s mouth, just before it was invaded, fully and completely silencing him of all protestation. The only sounds he was allowed to make were those of tortured pleasure. Tatsumi’s lips moved forcefully over his, and it was all the poor man could do to try and keep up. When the kiss moved south, once again torturing his neck, Watari groaned, his fingers twining in short, dark hair. “S…Seii…oh no…not there…” Tatsumi’s teeth had grazed over his collarbone, just where the large tendon from his neck attached. He was now ready to either break down into a sobbing mass and beg Tatsumi to take him, or he would simply throw the man to the floor and do it for him. That was probably the worst spot for someone to touch him that was not serious about what they were doing…

“Yutaka,” Tatsumi said again, his tongue winding around that spot and obviously enjoying the desperate way the blonde man shook, “you could help, you know.”

“Help?” Watari asked dazedly.

“Yes,” Tatsumi growled in his ear, his hands taking hold of Watari’s hips and pressing himself forward. The scientist was surprised to feel a very prominent bulge in his partner’s trousers. “I am wearing far too many clothes, don’t you think?”

Watari’s heart, if it had not been pounding before, was doing so now. His hands trembled as they moved to pull at the other man’s tie. Tatsumi simply stood where he was, watching. Small, shallow breaths escaped Watari’s mouth as the silk tie slithered to the floor, and he began work on all those buttons that stood between him and skin he wanted so very badly to touch. Fingers paused on the fourth button, he turned his golden eyes up to look at the blue ones that watched him. “You had better be serious,” his voice came out threateningly, though very quiet, and he pulled Tatsumi’s glasses off of his face, slipping them into the pocket of the shirt that was going to be tossed across the room very soon if he had any say so. “Because, Seiichirou, if you aren’t…I will never forgive you.”

Then, he was treated to something that he had never had the pleasure of seeing. Tatsumi smiled down at him, a rare radiance, and bent to kiss him chastely once again. “Get going on those buttons, Yutaka.” In a softer voice, he said, “Do you know how badly I wanted you this morning? It took every scrap of control to keep myself from making love to you when you came out of the shower.” Watari’s grip on Tatsumi’s shirt tightened, and the last button popped off, clattering off somewhere unknown. “This is an excuse, I know, but I…I need this. Please,” Whatever Tatsumi was going to say got smothered in another kiss that simply could not be delayed any longer. Watari ripped the white shirt from broad shoulders, throwing it blindly to flutter softly to the floor.

He pressed himself tightly against Tatsumi, taking in the feeling of warm skin sliding like silk against his. Pulling off his glasses, he tossed them toward where he thought his computers might be. 003 caught them, and he flapped a hand at the bird, who immediately flew out of the window. When he finally released Tatsumi’s lips, he nipped at them, and then teased them with his tongue. “Don’t control yourself. I don’t want you to.”

“I…” Tatsumi’s brows drew down; as if he feared what he might do if he let himself go the way Watari was asking him to. The scientist nipped harder at parted lips.

“It’s all or nothing, Seiichirou…I want all of you. Now stop holding back and let me have you.” Something in Tatsumi’s face broke then, and Watari saw a tender expression develop there. He ran his fingers through Watari’s hair, and then down until he reached the waist of dark jeans. Light, teasing touches almost tickled at his skin until he felt those fingers unfastening his fly and then start peeling his pants down his legs. Once he’d hopped out of them, and Tatsumi stood up, he made quick work of the fine leather belt at the man’s slender waist. When dark gray dress slacks pooled on the floor, Watari knelt in front of the tall man, grasping the elastic band that held up white cotton boxer shorts.

The underwear descended strong legs, and Watari could finally see all of Tatsumi Seiichirou. Tatsumi shifted his weight and Watari looked up to see that the man looked nervous. While he was on his way to standing up, he took the opportunity to drop his own black briefs. The secretary was blushing, and Watari could tell he wanted to cover himself. Running his fingers lightly over every bit of exposed skin he could reach, and producing shivers in the other man, Watari said softly, “You have nothing to be ashamed of Seiichirou. I just hope that you taste as good as you look.”

“I…It has been a very long time since anyone…” Tatsumi’s voice trailed off, but Watari understood what he meant well enough.

He ran his tongue down newly exposed skin, feeling the muscles of Tatsumi’s chest ripple. Pausing in this delicious labor, Watari smiled wickedly. “Don’t worry. I won’t bite unless you ask me to.” This statement drew a strained sort of noise from Tatsumi, directly after which he felt his head being pulled up by the hair. Darkened blue eyes stared intensely down at him, and Watari thought he was going to melt away into a puddle of senseless goop if they didn’t stop. And then, God help him, his entire body pressed against hot skin, sliding and soft, taking his breath away like a punch to the gut.

Teasing lips slid over his, and Tatsumi murmured, “I probably told you this before at some point, Yutaka, but you really do talk too much.” Watari’s golden eyes narrowed for an instant before widening again sharply. One of Tatsumi’s hands had slid down his back, and was tracing the curve of his buttocks. Nails scraped lightly, and Watari whimpered at the feeling of the other man’s fingers on the soft tissue. “We’ll talk about everything…later.” Tatsumi’s voice was at his neck now. “For now, we’ll focus on less intelligible sounds, shall we?” Before Watari could answer him, the secretary’s usually sharp tongue was tracing softly over the skin of his chest, lips suckling lightly every so often.

Somehow, Tatsumi managed to continue the abuse of Watari’s most sensitive erogenous areas, as well as guide him until he was pressed against the wall, just to one side of the windows. When his back touched the relatively chilled wood, he gasped, the temperature difference between those planks and the absolutely scorching warm mouth making his eyes slide shut. His arousal was far too overwhelming now, and when he reached for it—just to relieve a little tension, mind you—his hand was viciously slapped away. “That’s cheating, Yutaka.”

Watari whimpered, needing some kind of flesh contact. It was driving him barking mad! Not that he had ever really thought Tatsumi would actually be bad at this…but he had never expected him to be so sinfully good, so evil and teasing that he felt as if he very well might achieve orgasm without anything more than—“Oh, God, Seiichirou…” His voice rose half an octave in a pleading, sobbing tone as Tatsumi bit his already overly abused nipple while taking hold of his neglected erection. He could feel a malevolent smile against his chest, and the hand on him tightened. The world had suddenly become a bit blurrier, and Watari realized that his eyes had welled up with tears.

This was a new phenomenon…when had such slight relief from sexual frustration caused him to cry? He couldn’t remember when such an event might have taken place, but he might be wrong about that. Watari’s mind wasn’t exactly performing at the top of its game right now. It was rather one-tracked at present, attempting only to figure out the shortest path to his climax. All thought was obliterated when he felt Tatsumi’s large hand sliding over him, causing his eyes to become unfocused and roll back a bit. Teeth nipped lower on his abdomen, and Tatsumi must be kneeling by now. Suddenly, he felt something hot and wet brush over the tip of his erection, making him grasp the window-frame for support. When it went away, and did not return, he opened his eyes and looked down at Tatsumi, who was smiling. Narrowing his eyes, he said, “You’re the devil.”

This made Tatsumi laugh, and Watari frowned down at him. “I am not,” the dark-haired man replied simply, before promptly taking the tip of Watari’s arousal into his mouth and sucking gently. His abdominal muscles began to tighten, and he curled forward, hunching over until his hair was probably tickling at the other man’s back.

His eyes squeezed shut, his entire body tensing in an effort not to release, not to come right now, and it only just worked. And then he almost cried for real, because Tatsumi’s mouth left him completely. Watari found himself very quickly being pulled into a standing position. “You really are the devil,” he muttered, but stopped before he could say anything else. Tatsumi was walking to the bathroom, and looking back over his shoulder.

There was an almost exasperated light in those blue eyes as they held his. “Come on, Yutaka. Water makes good lubricant.” This earnest—not to mention blunt—statement was most likely engineered to get his feet moving by causing erotic images to form in Watari’s brain, and he would be lying to himself completely if he did not admit that it was working. Watari blinked for a moment, then nearly ran to where he already heard water running. The second he entered the bathroom, he was seized and pulled directly into the large glass shower stall.

Hard tile pressed into his back, freezing cold and a stark contrast from the water that rained down on both himself and the body that had become plastered to his front. Tatsumi’s skin slid over his, causing electric sensations to speed through his body, and make him wonder why it was that his knees always seemed to go weak when those large hands touched him. Just like they did now, as they ran over his ribs while his body pressed Watari even more firmly against the frigid wall.

It was all a blur of rocking bodies, twining limbs, and water for the next few moments. Watari would cry out when Tatsumi decided to bite him, or when a particularly firm slide of hips brought even greater pleasure than before. Not much time had gone by when he simply could take it no longer. His body was shaking so hard that he could barely stand, and all he wanted was more. Watari’s brain was dangerously close to short-circuiting as he breathed, “Can’t…hold…on, Seii—agh!”

A rather harsh bite to his shoulder shot pain through him, which was followed by a backlash of pleasure, and he moaned. Tatsumi growled in his ear, “Don’t hold on, Yutaka. Let go.” Watari whimpered, feeling the burn of his orgasm coming when Tatsumi’s hand gripped him, sliding wetly in the spray that still ran down their bodies. His head fell back, bumping lightly against the wall, and he let intense pleasure wash over him along with the water. “Come,” was the whispered command, and Watari obeyed soon thereafter, his world disappearing into a fog of whiteness, and a sky of silvery stars.

When Watari came down from the high of his climax, Tatsumi was watching him. Blue eyes were wide, and he was holding the blonde man gently. “You are…beautiful, Yutaka.” His voice came only as a whisper, and Watari’s stomach jumped, just slightly. “Let me…” Tatsumi hesitated then, seemingly trying to work up the courage to say something. “Can I…can I make love to you, Yutaka?”

A large, lazy cat-like grin spread over Watari’s lips, and he replied, running his fingers through dark hair that was now pasted to Tatsumi’s head, “Yes, you may. But kiss me first, Mr. Secretary.” Tatsumi’s lips grazed his lightly, reverently, before Watari was sure that he might drown in him. The force of the kiss grew, and his hands slid out of wet hair and allowed his arms to snake around Tatsumi’s neck, gathering him closer. Watari could feel the hardness of the other man’s erection pressing into his stomach, sliding as Tatsumi rocked against him and already he found his arousal returning.

One of Watari’s legs wrapped around Tatsumi’s waist, urging him closer, pressing him tighter to feel the wet slide of skin that would be ever so much more satisfying when the secretary was filling him over and over again. His eyes slid shut while Tatsumi’s tongue glided across every surface within his mouth. Vaguely, his mind could register the fact that Tatsumi was doing something other than molesting his mouth and grinding him into the wall. What that something was, Watari did not know, nor did he care.

He did care very much when something slick and warm smoothed into the cleft of his buttocks, causing him to sigh and shift where he stood. The smell of Tatsumi’s soap filled the shower stall, and Watari wondered for a moment if that was what the slick substance was on the finger now tracing its way down to the place where he desperately wanted it. Abruptly, the kiss ended, and Tatsumi leaned against him heavily. “Tell me if I hurt you,” he whispered just before the tip of his finger penetrated the sensitive ring of puckered muscle.

Watari groaned heavily. Tatsumi was so gentle and patient with his preparations, always waiting until Watari was completely fine with what he was doing before moving on to something new…his chest was heaving now. Three fingers now slid in, spread apart slightly, and withdrew a little until Tatsumi thrust them back in, and Watari started to sob from sheer bliss. He had heard of people becoming ‘putty’ in a person’s hands, but never before had he experienced such a thing. All he could really do was cling to Tatsumi’s neck, his face pressed against the wet skin of one broad shoulder as those long fingers continued to make him ready for what was still sliding against his stomach. Sounds that he could barely identify erupted from his throat, and he bit his lip to keep them in.

Finally, after what seemed like an eternity of hellishly wonderful sensation, Tatsumi slipped his fingers from him. A small moment went by, during which Watari breathed a sigh, unable to make any more intelligible noises. It was just after this that Tatsumi pulled away from him just a little, the firmness of his erection leaving the place it had been resting on Watari’s abdomen and soon touching the now stretched opening between the scientist’s buttocks. A quick motion brought soap from the dish built into the wall, and Tatsumi hissed as he ran the bar over his erection. Watari opened his eyes and looked at the way Tatsumi’s face was drawn in a kind of determination. The soap fell to the floor, and that resolve was now etched into the lines of the other man’s face as Watari felt the now thoroughly lathered hardness press into him. His arms tightened around Tatsumi’s neck, and he moaned. “Seiichirou…” he breathed as the progress of their joining was flawless, without even a hint of pain. One of Tatsumi’s hands gripped at Watari’s raised thigh, and he began breathing erratically.

--

It was so unbelievably perfect that Tatsumi stopped once he was completely within Watari’s body. The grip he now had on the other man’s thigh was not enough. He knew that his legs would not support him very soon. His body had needed this for so long, had been denied for more than two decades, and now… “Yutaka…I…”

Watari pushed his hips forward, pressing him even deeper inside, and Tatsumi listened as the most erotic moan rumbled from the blonde man’s throat, which he felt tingling over every pore of his skin. “M…More…” he heard against his chest, “…more. More, Seiichirou…” Moving experimentally, Tatsumi pulled back and pushed himself forward, feeling every nerve ignite and burn with pleasure. “Yes…”

Their bodies seemed to fit so well together that Tatsumi felt out a natural rhythm with Watari, and they soon moved as one; Tatsumi driving himself into velvet heat at a slow pace that was both unbelievably pleasurable and maddening. When the water began to run cold, they both fumbled with the knobs to make it stop, and again with the door. The pair then attempted to exit the shower with Watari wrapped around Tatsumi’s waist, but ended only in a slick heap on the bathroom floor. Watari gave a startled cry, having landed in a seated position while still straddling Tatsumi.

Wet hair hung in a tangled mass all around Watari’s head as he leaned forward, capturing Tatsumi’s mouth in a deep, hungry kiss. A strong hand took Tatsumi’s erection and he was soon sliding back into the other man, and being pulled upright. Now that Watari was in his lap, the blonde man set his own pace, rocking smoothly up and down, and Tatsumi’s head fell back, waves of unbearable pleasure breaking against eroding self-control. His hands were itching to take hold of Watari’s hips to push him down harder, faster. Giving in to this temptation, gripping soft flesh, he aided Watari’s movement by lifting him up, and letting him fall.

Water flew as Watari’s head fell back, a surprised moan echoing through the room. “A…again…” he panted, inner muscles squeezing at Tatsumi and making him agree without thought. Flowing through each movement, relishing the way water and sweat made his skin slide against Watari’s, Tatsumi let himself go. Faster they moved, moans and sighs mingling, Watari holding tightly to him and trembling. Harder he pushed, wringing ever-louder moans from his lover, until he felt the man in his lap begin to tense. Watari’s voice, now hoarse and breathless, whispered in his ear, “Don’t stop, Seiichirou…I…almost…” Tatsumi moved quickly, changing their position.

Watari now lay on his back on the mat outside the shower, Tatsumi above him, his weight lending greater force to his movement, causing Watari’s words to melt away into quiet gasps of pleasure. Again, the pleasure threatened to take him over. Tatsumi did not fight it now, only did everything he could to have his lover continue making such beautiful sounds. Golden eyes opened wide suddenly, and Watari’s breathing came in ragged pants. Muscles squeezed at Tatsumi’s erection, and Watari let out a scream that may have been meant to be his name, but all the secretary heard was a wordless howl of pleasure that mirrored his own somewhat quieter groan as he was enveloped in a world of white, then the blank oblivion behind his eyelids.

Panting, he opened his eyes and looked down. He had not felt his orgasm’s approach, which was strange. It had come so suddenly, so violently, that he had stopped breathing. Now that he was able to breathe, coming down from the euphoria of his climax, he could look at the blissful, lazy smile on Watari’s face, and feel the gentle stretching of his own lips as he returned the expression. Leaning down, he gently kissed that smile, feeling so at peace now, and even more so when Watari’s fingers began tracing patterns over his back.

“Seiichirou,” Watari said when he pulled away, “we’re sticky.”

A smile tugged at Tatsumi’s mouth. “Another shower, then?”

--

A/N:: Well, now, I hope that was worth the wait. I'm working on the next bit, so I'll be crossing my fingers that you all will review and maybe give me some ideas and suggestions as to what you think should happen next. This is, after all, my way of continuing a story that I'm not sure will ever start up again, but you guys are probably not happy with the way things cut off, either. Review!!!


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