The Winter Quarters

by Anna Veriani

  It didn’t, though; it just rained, cool droplets hitting his face. He sighed, melting despite himself against the rhythmic patter of the rain, and he didn’t move when Hiro put his arm around him.

  “You know it’s not really your fault, right?” Hiro said softly.

  Kai kept his eyes closed, not wanting to talk, just wanting Hiro and the rain to keep touching him. They were the most tender things in his life: Hiro and the rain. But he felt guilty even for that thought, because how dare he feel even a hint of sadness when there were so many people in the world less fortunate than him.

  “You didn’t tell the paparazzi to bother her,” Hiro said.

  “I know what it feels like to be stalked by a herd of strangers with cameras,” Kai said. “It can be terrifying, no matter how many times it happens to you. And she only went through that because I wasn’t there. She acts tough, but the truth is she’s used to being protected by my security team. And I left her in New York without any protection.”

  “It happened because a bunch of assholes decided to follow a young woman alone down a street,” Hiro said. “It happened because a bunch of people did stuff that is completely outside of your control.”

  “It happened because I’m famous,” said Kai, pretending not to see Hiro’s point, because on some surface level, he did understand. But it didn’t make him feel less awful.

  Hiro didn’t say a word, just let him sit in silence. Eventually Kai’s internal clock told him it was time to get out of the water, cool down, and rehydrate.

  They didn’t bother putting towels around their waists in the rain. Kai had seen Hiro naked so many times in the past four days alone that it seemed like a waste of effort to preserve their nonexistent modesty for however long they had left together. Hiro trod in front of him, and Kai didn’t mean to look—honestly didn’t—but he saw Hiro’s cock swing as he moved, and he wanted to still be sad, to beat himself up endlessly over his mistakes, but suddenly the only thing left in his brain was Hiro’s cock. Then Hiro swept inside.

  AFTER they washed off, Hiro put a towel around himself before he sat in front of the vanity, squeezing some aloe vera onto his palm and rubbing his cheeks vigorously. Kai regarded himself in the mirror. His hair was speckled with water droplets, his cheeks flushed from the heat of the onsen.

  “Catch.” Hiro tossed him the aloe vera and left before Kai could remind him he hadn’t gotten dressed.

  Chapter Ten

  KAI emerged a few minutes later.

  He was so absorbed in his own thoughts that it took him almost half a minute to realize Hiro was sitting cross-legged beside a rolled-out futon in nothing but black briefs. Kai had just seen him naked, but there was still something about the bulge of Hiro’s briefs that made it impossible to look away.

  “Planning to go to bed early?” Kai said, willing his voice not to quiver.

  “Planning a massage.” Hiro said it so casually, as if it didn’t make Kai’s entire body thrum with a sudden sensitivity.

  “What’s that?” Kai croaked.

  “Do you want a back rub?” Hiro’s eye went soft. “I don’t have oils or anything, but I’m not too bad at it. It might help you sleep.”

  Kai’s cluttered thoughts evaporated. There was only Hiro—his big hands and their lightly visible veins, the shadowed outline of his cock and the hair across his chest. Kai nodded numbly and nearly stumbled toward the futon.

  He was wearing pajamas, so he said, “Should I take these off?” and slipped off his shirt without waiting for an answer, suddenly roasting hot. He glanced at the heater. It was on low. He fingered the elastic waistband of his pants, considering how much modesty Hiro might expect of him, then took one look at Hiro’s thick, bare thighs and slipped it down over his ass. He clambered out of them, clumsy, and Hiro simply took them and folded them neatly.

  “You’ve never given me a massage before,” Kai pointed out. This felt precarious and strange, new territory.

  “I didn’t know how to, not properly,” Hiro said. “I took classes last year. Kind of an unofficial part of my training.”

  There were masseurs in the inn, part of the Asadas’ plans to stay up-to-date in the hospitality industry, but Kai knew they had hired outside help for that.

  “You’ve worked as a masseur before?” he asked, then added, “Should I lie on my stomach?”

  The futon was unusually soft, and Kai realized Hiro had stacked both of their futons on top of each other so that he didn’t feel like he was lying flat on the floor.

  “Yeah,” said Hiro. “I’ll rub your back. And I haven’t, really.”

  Kai tensed as Hiro touched his shoulders, even though his hands were warm. The hairs on the back of his neck stood up.

  Hiro pressed his thumb into Kai’s skin, and he started to rub. Kai shifted, alarmed to find his cock waking up along with the rest of him. He worked to keep his breathing steady.

  “I like to think that, as the heir of Asada Inn,” Hiro said, “I could potentially do anyone else’s job. Serve tea, cook washoku, maintain the gardens, balance the books. Be a masseur.”

  “All the traditional skills of the husband and the wife in one,” Kai commented. He stifled a groan as Hiro shifted, pressing both of his palms into the soft, sore crevices of Kai’s back. “Who says you even need to get married?”

  “The only thing I can’t do is tell myself how amazing I am every day,” Hiro said. “I mean, I can, but I’d much prefer my husband to do it.”

  The words my husband sent an immediate jolt of jealousy through Kai’s veins. Jealousy over someone who didn’t even exist. Yet.

  “Did I just hit a nerve?” Hiro asked, and it took Kai a moment to realize what he meant. “You just tensed up.”

  “No,” he said. “The pressure’s perfect.”

  “Mm.” Those sounds did something to Kai, so low and deep in Hiro’s throat. Being able to feel him while he couldn’t see Kai’s expressions was quickly bringing Kai to a place he hadn’t dared to venture before. He was heady with arousal, and as Hiro’s heavenly hands kneaded farther and farther down Kai’s back, his cock hardened stiff and straight. He shifted, trying to discreetly adjust himself, which was basically impossible, considering their proximity and how insufficient Kai’s briefs suddenly felt.

  “God, Hiro.” He wanted so badly to release an outpouring of words: praise of Hiro’s thumbs, his palms, his strength, his heat, the hair on his knuckles. And he could do it, couldn’t he? People got a little mushy when they were being massaged; he was feeling worshipful, but he could pass it off as simple appreciation for a very good massage. “Your hands are perfect. You’re fucking perfect, Hiro.”

  Hiro chuckled above him. “Can I get closer to you? It’ll feel better.”

  “Of course.” His heart rate skyrocketed when Hiro was suddenly on him, straddling either side of his back. Hiro couldn’t have known it, but the sudden pressure rubbed Kai’s cock against the futon too, sparks of pleasure shooting through him.

  Hiro leaned over him and spoke into his ear. “Good?”

  “Yeah.” Kai sounded so breathless.

  There was no way Hiro could be oblivious, was there?

  How far can I push this? Was this a game? Would Kai lose if Hiro found out exactly what was happening?

  Hiro kneaded Kai’s lower back, shifting pressure from left knuckles to right and back again. Kai’s whole body shifted under Hiro’s weight, and fuck, that made him hot.

  KAI’S skin was hot like he was feverish, and his voice sounded barely above a whisper, shaky and affected. Hiro wondered if he was sick, if they’d stayed in the onsen too long. Because otherwise….

  He’d offered the massage because he genuinely wanted to relax Kai, to make sure he slept well tonight. He was determined to ignore his own feelings, the way he wanted to utterly worship every bare centimeter of Kai’s body. He fought the urge to press himself against Kai, his chest to Kai’s back, or to sink his nose into Kai’s soft hair.

  But then Kai was pa
nting, quick, shallow breaths, and it was undeniable: Kai was aroused. Definitely, indisputably aroused, and if Hiro kept touching him, Hiro was going to explode. This couldn’t happen, because Hiro liked Kai too much, and Kai had never indicated he felt that way, and he was leaving soon. Hiro was a grown man. He knew he wasn’t immune to heartbreak, but he was also mature enough to know how to avoid it.

  So he slowed his hands, bringing the massage to a gradual end before he really wanted to. He slid off Kai, immediately hating the distance between them.

  “That’s it,” he whispered, hands loose at his sides. He was just about to turn around, giving Kai a moment’s privacy, when Kai rolled onto his back.

  Kai looked wrecked. His eyes were half-slitted, gaze hazy with lust, cheeks lewdly flushed, lips parted. His bare chest rose in small pants, and his cock—his cock looked achingly hard, its pink head peeking out from the waistband of his briefs, the partial concealment only making Hiro starved for more. His tip looked so wet, like it was weeping for attention, and Hiro’s mouth watered. He stared, all self-control forgotten.

  “I’m sorry,” Kai blurted, blinking up at him in horror. One hand went to cover his cock and simply rested there, teasing Hiro viciously. If that could be his hand.

  “Christ, Kai.” Say something stupid, quick. A panicked voice went off in his head, because this had gone so much further than he had intended, and he needed to defuse. “When was the last time you had sex?”

  Hiro squeezed his eyes shut, the sight of Kai’s cock burning bright behind his eyelids. In the seconds it took Hiro to turn around, he envisioned leaning down and pulling Kai’s hand aside, yanking down his briefs, and swallowing his cock. He would suck hard and wet—make Kai come in seconds.

  “It’s been a long time,” Kai admitted. “Months. Maybe a year.”

  That was not an answer Hiro would have ever anticipated. Kai never talked to him about guys, the Big D not included, but when someone was as gorgeous as Kai, people assumed he was having sex at least weekly. Hiro almost felt like it was a waste for every part of Kai not to be touched and loved all the time, but he was also grossly, selfishly relieved.

  Kai wasn’t Hiro’s. He had no business being jealous—or not jealous, as the case now was.

  Hiro wanted to make a joke about blue balls, about Kai being so hungry for it he would let a simple massage get him into some kind of state, but he just couldn’t. They’d lived together for four years, and he had never seen Kai hard before. That one bare inch of pink—it was going to drive him mad. He turned back toward Kai as Kai was clumsily pulling his cotton pajama pants back on, his hard cock pressing furiously against the loose material.

  “Why?” Hiro forced himself to say. His voice was pure gravel. “There are eight million people in New York, and you’re gorgeous.”

  Kai shook his head. “No one wants me,” he said, so ironically Hiro felt like screaming. “No one who doesn’t also want my wallet, my show, my mom’s mansions.” He shrugged. “Call me a romantic, but I’d rather be single than… used.”

  He looked down like a kicked puppy, and for a flash of a second Hiro forgot his lust, overcome with protectiveness instead. He hated every man in New York. Probably plenty of people in LA and Miami and the little islands in Greece, everywhere Kimi and Kai had ever been shot, because Kai should have met his soulmate by now, the man who would love him and cherish him as much as Hiro did. He should have met an equally wealthy, equally famous man who didn’t have a thousand-year-old family inn to tie him down. But the world wasn’t good enough for him.

  “You just need to get laid,” Hiro said airily.

  “Hiro,” Kai said softly. Just a breath of a word. His gaze was heated, full of intent.

  “Not me,” Hiro blurted, laughing like the idea was ridiculous. Because it was. Kai had never shown interest in him when they were younger. Not when Hiro was fifteen and he spent every night yearning for Kai with such unwavering force that it felt like he might teleport to wherever Kai was modeling at the time. Or when they were living together in college and Hiro would pretend to sleep while Kai jacked himself off in the bed next to him. Or after graduation, when Hiro came back to Ishikawa and Kai didn’t.

  If it was going to happen, it would have happened by now.

  Kai didn’t laugh. He slid toward Hiro, and Hiro slid back.

  “Go to any bar near this inn,” Hiro said, “and you’ll find someone who wants to sleep with you. Probably someone who doesn’t even know you’re famous.”

  Kai shook his head. “I don’t want that. I just—”

  Hiro scrambled up, because the heat coming off of Kai was too much, and Kai only followed him, rapidly on his feet. “Stop. Please, Hiro. Please don’t keep your distance like that. You were touching me earlier, and—”

  God, the massage had been the worst idea in the history of ideas. Did he think Hiro was going to be his one-night stand?

  Kai faltered when he saw Hiro’s expression. Hiro kept a poker face, guarded stone, because he knew enough to know that the next person he slept with had to be the one he married. He was too old to keep messing around when his parents were waiting for their retirement day.

  And it would be too painful. Far, far too painful to be anything other than a friend to Kai for so brief a time.

  “Let’s get some sleep,” Hiro said, not unkindly.

  “Would you kiss me?” Kai said. “Just once.”

  Was this really happening? Hiro had never—never—imagined that Kai Ledging might someday want something like that, but here it was, and it wasn’t enough. Hiro was far past the level of asking for a kiss just once.

  “We’re friends,” Hiro said firmly. “Sorry, Kai. I can’t.”

  “Well,” Kai said, blinking. He fluttered his fingers over his pajama pants. “This has been properly humiliating.”

  “No,” Hiro said quickly. “Kai, it’s fine, I just—”

  “I get it,” Kai said. “You’re not interested. Let’s just go to bed.”

  He stepped around Hiro before Hiro could respond, heading toward the bathroom. A moment later Hiro heard the sink run and the strangely mundane sounds of Kai brushing his teeth.

  Chapter Eleven

  “BEEF,” Hiro roared insensibly. “BEEEEEEF.”

  Kai and Shinsuke ignored him.

  “Five chicken breasts, five kalbi beef, two cow tongues, and three pork bellies.” Kai scanned the menu. Shinsuke scribbled furiously on his notepad. “We should order some vegetables, shouldn’t we?”

  “NO VEGETABLES,” Hiro shouted. He had had one soda but seemed somehow drunk. Or maybe Kai just hadn’t had a chance to see him like this during his trip—out of the view of his parents and the inn guests, he could fully unwind.

  “Onions, carrots, and mushrooms,” Risa told Shinsuke, rolling her eyes.

  “And kimchi,” Risa’s friend Karin added from the other side of the table.

  “And rice and miso and five more kalbi beef,” Hiro said.

  “Hiro,” Kai said. “That’s ten plates of beef.”

  “MORE BEEF.” Hiro pounded the table with his fist.

  “Understood, big cousin.” Shinsuke dashed back to the kitchen, which Shinsuke’s parents had left entirely in his hands for the night. They’d closed their yakiniku restaurant because the snow was heavy tonight, the phone line was down, and inn guests were staying inside instead of seeking food options outside the Asada Inn. So Shinsuke had invited Hiro, Kai, and Risa for the night, as well as Risa’s two bandmates, Karin and Miyu. Miyu’s handsome older brother, Ryohei, had come too, bringing two of his friends, and suddenly the place was full. Karin and Miyu had met Kai when they’d come to perform in New York, but they clearly watched his show now, because the first thing they said to him when they saw him again was “Can we get a selfie, Kai-chan?” They took about ten.

  “And beer!” Hiro called after Shinsuke as he walked away. “Nine Asahis!”

  “Should we help him?” Miyu, who seemed extremely sweet, asked.
r />   “Shinsuke loves being our little bitch,” Ryohei said easily.

  “I heard that!” Shinsuke shouted from the kitchen. He came out a moment later balancing a tray laden with beers and small oden bowls on his shoulder. “And it’s true,” he added as he passed the first beer to Ryohei, “I do love it.” He flashed Ryohei a wink.

  “Oooh!” Risa yelled, cracking up.

  “Did you know your little cousin is like this?” Ryohei asked Hiro. Ryohei was about a full head shorter than Hiro, but muscular and broad, with a square jaw and gleaming white teeth. He made Kai feel self-conscious, thinking dumb thoughts, like the fact that Kai was the shortest guy in the room right now, and that Ryohei had sat between Hiro and Kai before Kai had a chance to claim his spot.

  “Don’t get too flattered,” Hiro said flatly, digging into the fishcakes in his bowl. “He flirts with anything that moves.”

  “I can attest to this.” Ryohei’s friend Touya raised his hand.

  “Ditto,” Ryohei’s other friend said.

  Hiro frowned, looking endearingly like a protective big brother. “Is there anything I should know about? Shinsuke,” he called, “what are you getting up to?”

  Touya and Ryohei laughed.

  “Out and Equal Ishikawa is fund-raising right now, so last night I got him good and drunk and convinced him to sign up and pay membership fees,” Touya said. Touya was a community organizer for an LGBT group that focused on people living in less populated regions, like up north in Noto and down here in Kaga. “I’m dragging him to the Tokyo Pride March this spring.”

  “Do you want to come?” Ryohei asked.

  “He’ll be busy with the inn,” Kai blurted immediately. Everyone looked at him.

  He didn’t know why he’d said it. Just that imagining Hiro traipsing shirtless down a street in Tokyo, surrounded by young queer guys, made him want to scream.

  Ryohei smiled. “I wasn’t asking Hiro. I was asking you, Kai.”