by Sessha Batto
The elite molded himself to the interrogator's body, wrapping long arms around his neck. “What would you like me to do to thank you?” Yoshi leaned in and sealed their lips together, hesitating only a moment before deepening the contact.
He knows who I am and he's still kissing me, was Makoto's last coherent thought before abandoning himself to the feeling and responding, pulling the lanky figure close and returning the kiss. He tickled the tip of his tongue along the seam of pale lips, coaxing them to part and allow him entry, sweeping inside to sample the feast that was Yoshi.
“Kami, you taste good.” The interrogator crushed their lips back together, tongues tangling sweetly as they slowly and thoroughly explored each other's mouths. He adjusted their position, leaning back until he was stretched out on the ground with Yoshi curled up on his chest, massive arms securely enfolding the slighter figure, all the while never breaking their connection.
Makoto suddenly realized just what he was doing. No matter how good it felt this wasn’t right. Yoshi is just expressing his gratitude the only way he knows. It doesn’t mean he cares. He pulled back slightly, locking gazes with the elite's piercing mismatched eyes. “Takahashi-san, you don’t have to do this.”
“You don’t want to?” Yoshi replied almost mournfully.
“I didn’t say that. But I don’t want your gratitude … or your pity.”
“I know, I’m dirty,” the shadow wolf stated in a heart-wrenchingly small whisper. “It's wrong to like it, it's not supposed to feel good.” He paused for a long moment. “What you must think of me.”
The interrogator pressed a kiss to the snowy crown and rubbed a soothing hand up and down his tense spine. “I only think good things about you, Yoshi. You’re so very strong, and brave…” Makoto trailed off for a moment although his hand never stopped its tender strokes. “But you’re so very sad, and lonely, I don’t like that.”
Yoshi turned his head to look at him with something like wonder as he continued. “It is supposed to feel good, you know. It's normal to feel pleasure.”
“Then why?”
“You’re so beautiful,” Makoto rumbled as he stroked a pale cheek, “and I’m … I don’t even want to look at myself. The only reason someone like you would be with me is out of obligation. That makes me no better than that Yakuza.”
“You’re the first person who's cared about what happened to me since Oonishi-sama died,” the shadow wolf said frankly. “What could possibly be more beautiful than that?” Then Yoshi tipped his head and pressed their lips together.
****
Genki stood outside the holding cell, lips pursed and eyes narrowed as he studied the woman inside. With her ki suppressed Rin could no longer hide the effects of her addiction. But she's still beautiful. After a moment of quiet regret he stepped up to the door and spoke, startling her out of her thoughts.
“Why, princess?”
“You, of all people, shouldn't be questioning me about it,” Rin retorted. “Besides, Kobayashi-sama started it. Who am I to question his decisions?”
“I’m as disappointed in him as I am in you. If I’d have known I would never have supported you for Shuhan.” Genki paced back and forth outside the bars. “I don’t know how to even begin to apologize to Yoshi, much less make this right.”
“Why in Kami's name would you apologize? How burdensome can it be? Besides, he's not stable or trustworthy enough for anything else.” Rin shrugged expressively as she watched her old friend's face twist in distaste.
“Did you ever consider that maybe whoring him out was why he became unstable? As far as trustworthy goes, he's never done anything to endanger the shuudan or any of its shinobi,” the sage insisted.
“Only because Kobayashi-sama put a control jutsu on him,” she retorted. “He's just like his damn father.”
“Is your nose still out of joint because Ren turned you down?” the sage growled. “Get over yourself woman. He was six years older than you and in love with someone else, of course he turned you down.”
“Ren couldn’t be trusted, and neither can his son,” Rin spat back. “It’ll be no great loss when the Takahashi clan is gone for good.”
Genki buried his hands in his hair and groaned. “I’ll leave you alone then. There's no talking to you.” With that he slowly retreated, leaving Rin alone to continue spinning her plans.
The sage slowly climbed the stairs back to the Shuhan's office. It felt odd to knock and wait to be admitted. Now a stranger was seated behind the familiar desk and Genki felt the world spinning out of his control.
“I should never have supported her nomination. What do you need me to do?”
“How would you punish her?” Daisuke asked as he lifted haggard eyes to meet Genki's angry ones.
“I don’t know if I could,” the sage admitted. “There's more to the situation than meets the eye. Rin has a grudge against Yoshi because of something that happened long before the brat was in the picture.”
“And that would be?” the Shuhan prodded.
“You have an interest in ancient history?”
“I have an interest in anything that will help me deal with this situation. For some ungodly reason the clan elders thought I’d be good at dealing with the human side of this job. That and the paperwork,” Daisuke admitted as he eyed the teetering stacks, “and this incident was the trigger. It's important I deal with it quickly and fairly, but Yoshi's been so badly wronged I’m not sure there's any way to make it up to him.”
“Might as well get comfortable then,” Genki muttered. “This is gonna take a while.” He lifted an untidy stack of papers from an upholstered chair and balanced them tight against yet another stack. “The princess wasn’t much for paperwork, huh?” He sprawled lazily in the now empty seat.
“It goes back to when we were all a lot younger. Anyway, I always had a thing for the princess, but she would never give me the time of day, that is, until she met my cousin Ren.”
“You’re a Takahashi?” Daisuke asked, totally derailed by that bit of information.
“Mmhhmm,” the sage hummed noncommittally. “Haven’t used my clan name in years. Takahashi always were a touchy bunch.”
“What does this have to do with Yoshi?” the Shuhan demanded.
“Oh, right. Rin took one look at Ren and she was smitten. The only problem was he was already in love. I kept telling her she was too young, he wasn’t interested, but she wouldn’t listen. I used to follow and watch them,” he admitted. “She went crazy when she heard he was getting married, that's when she moved to Tokyo. She would never have been in a position to take it out on Yoshi if I hadn’t nominated her for Shuhan.”
“I still haven’t found any record of the spell Kobayashi-sama cast on Yoshi to control his ki. You wouldn’t happen to know it, would you?” Daisuke laid his head on a stack of paper and shut his eyes.
“Dai, it's time to call it a night.” Souta's voice rang out of the shadows.
“Soon, Sou, I promise.”
“Now, Dai, I mean it,” the assassin insisted. “You’ll just have to come back tomorrow, Genki-sama.”
“Souta, I’m not done yet,” Daisuke insisted. “I know you mean well, but you can’t interfere with me doing my job. I’ll stop as soon as I can.”
The assassin's lips thinned and the senbon between his fingers twitched, but he remained silent and faded back into the shadows. “Well, Genki?”
“I don’t know the jutsu, but Yoshi wouldn’t be the first person he used it on. I’m sure Kobayashi-sama would have at least tried it first,” the sage muttered. “I’ll look through his papers if you’ve found them. I may be able to recognize it.”
“Wonderful.” Daisuke shoved several thick volumes at the clearly startled sage. “Start with these. Come back tomorrow and I’ll give you some more. Where are you staying anyway?”
“The princess usually let me stay here,” Genki mumbled under his breath, studying the exhausted Shuhan. Not the time to ask. “I haven’t decided yet. I�
��ll stop by in the morning and check in.”
“Fine,” Daisuke muttered before laying his head on the desk.
“That's it,” Souta insisted. “You,” he declared as he jabbed a finger at the sage, “get the hell out, and you,” he continued in a somewhat softer tone as he turned to address the Shuhan, “bed now.”
“I’m too tired,” Daisuke mumbled as he snuggled into the tumbled paperwork.
The assassin scooped up his sleepy lover, striding across the room and through the doors leading into the Shuhan's private apartment, quickly stripping his charge and tucking him under the covers. Moments later he slipped in beside him, pulling Daisuke into his arms and holding him close as he joined his lover in sleep.
****
Makoto's eyes went wide in shock. He thinks I’m beautiful, his mind kept echoing even as he returned the embrace, the elite's tongue sweeping boldly into his mouth. “Yoshi … wait,” the interrogator gasped when he pulled away for air. “Not here.”
“What?”
“If you still want this when we get home, I certainly won’t complain. I just want you to be sure, this feels too much like payment.”
“I don’t have a home.”
“What do you mean?” Makoto tilted his head and studied the suddenly nervous shadow wolf.
“I had to sell my family's house a couple years ago…” Yoshi trailed off before squaring his shoulders and admitting, “and I got an eviction notice from the landlord just before I left. I imagine my stuff is in the street right now.”
“You’ll stay with me,” the interrogator declared. “At least until we get you a place of your own.”
“You don’t have to.”
“I insist. Besides, you made me promise to take you to my house. Don’t you remember?” Makoto said with a smirk.
“No. That was so rude of me.” Yoshi groaned as he massaged his temples. “I am so sorry.”
“No apology necessary. How are you feeling? Are you up to traveling yet?”
“I feel okay,” the shadow wolf ventured. He stood and stretched languidly before muttering “What the hell?” Yoshi pulled the waistband of his sweat pants away from his body, looking down in dismay. “Shit, I’d forgotten about those.”
“I didn’t want to try and take them out,” the interrogator hastened to explain. “I was afraid you’d wake up and kill me.”
“I can’t kill you,” the elite murmured. “I’m ki blocked, remember?”
“Then you’d hate me, that's no better,” the torture master retorted.
Yoshi debated whether he should remove the piercings now or not. It wouldn’t be particularly comfortable traveling with them, but he also didn’t know how difficult it would be to do. He didn’t want to risk embarrassing himself in front of Makoto. Even though the interrogator was just doing his duty, it was nice not being alone.
“I’m good,” Yoshi decided. “Let's go.”
“It's going to get better. I promise,” a deep voice growled in his ear, sending shudders down the elite's spine. He turned and peered intently into Makoto's unreadable eyes, thoughts spinning as he tried to figure out the enigmatic torture master.
“Do you like what you do?” Yoshi instantly regretted his question at the pained hiss it drew in response.
“I did once,” the interrogator admitted. “I was very angry then. Now, it's my duty. You of all people should understand that duty and desire rarely coincide.” He handed Yoshi a bandana. “This will have to do if you want to cover your face.”
“Thank you.” The shadow wolf stuffed it in his waistband and took a large hand in his. “Let's go home.” They set off towards the shuudan at a brisk pace, each man locked in his own thoughts as the miles passed inexorably underfoot, marked only by the sound of the wind in their ears.
“I’m sorry.” Yoshi broke the silence after they had traveled about ten miles. “That was unnecessarily cruel of me. I was just curious.”
“I would never hurt you.”
“I wasn’t worried about that.”
“Right,” Makoto muttered.
“Really,” Yoshi insisted, “you’re just so different than I thought. I’m having a hard time reconciling the man you’re showing me with the man I thought I knew. You have to admit this is out of character for our esteemed head of covert operations.”
“When I was seventeen,” the interrogator rumbled, “I was captured on an assignment in Iwagashi shuudan's territory. I spent six weeks in their torture chambers.”
“I know, Kobayashi-sama talked about it constantly. He was so worried about you.” The shadow wolf paused for a long moment. “Eventually he sent me to service their Shuhan as part of the deal for your release. For a while I hated you. If you had just died, I kept thinking, then I wouldn’t have had to go to Iwagashi.”
“You got me released?”
“Mmmm,” the elite hummed. “I resented you so much. Everyone was so worried about how you were doing, and no one cared at all about what I had to do to get you back.” He turned sad, worried eyes to peer at the interrogator. “I was young, and scared,” he tried to explain, “it didn’t take me long to realize it had nothing to do with you. Since then, I’ve always regretted I didn't go sooner and save you some of your pain.”
“After Iwagashi,” Makoto spoke up after a long silence, “I was so angry. I remember I was in the hospital shortly after I got back. There was this cute nurse, Hanseki Aoki. I always looked forward to her shift, at least until I overheard her asking to be reassigned. She said looking at me made her want to be sick.”
“It's hard,” he continued thickly, “to have people look at you like a thing. Harder still to be recipient of their pity. I took my anger out in my work for many years, but now,” he shrugged his shoulders, “well, it's been a long time, and I’ve learned to live with what I am.”
“Which is?” Yoshi prodded, eyes pinned on the scarred face.
“A boogeyman to scare children with, an inhuman monster.”
“You’re not a monster,” the shadow wolf insisted. “No monster would do what you’re doing for me. I’d trade with you if I could.”
“Yoshi,” Makoto began hesitantly, only to be cut off.
“Inside, where it matters, you are anything but ugly.”
****
What the hell is he doing, the assassin wondered as Daisuke leapt up from his desk and locked the office door, beckoning him over with a single crooked finger. “Souta,” he whispered. “I think it's high time you had sex with your Shuhan.”
The toothpick the assassin was worrying flew out of his mouth when he found himself shoved unceremoniously onto his back across the desk and Daisuke climbed on top of him, grinding their pelvises together as he claimed his lover's mouth in a wet, needy kiss.
“Dai,” he tried to protest. “We shouldn’t do this here.”
“Yes, we should,” the new Shuhan replied with a smirk. Daisuke yanked open his robes, giving the elite shinobi a birds-eye view of his lithe, naked form.
“You aren’t wearing anything under your robes,” Souta said in a strangled voice. “Kami help me but that's so hot.”
“What are you going to do about it?” the younger man taunted as he dove in for another sloppy kiss.
The seasoned killer squeaked when he felt his zipper opening, his erection springing up gracefully into Daisuke's deft hand. “I know you want this,” the Shuhan whispered as he bent to take the leaking shaft into his mouth.
“That's not the poi … NT,” Souta stammered, thoroughly distracted by the motions of his lover's teasing tongue.
“And what exactly is the point?” Daisuke taunted before taking him to the root. He retreated up the length, nipping at the thick vein, until he reached the tip. The Shuhan nibbled the swollen head, dragging his tongue tantalizingly through the slit.
“Fuck if I remember,” Souta muttered before yanking the slightly smaller figure up for another passionate kiss. The Shuhan took advantage of the movement, quickly unbuttoning his partner'
s shirt, running his hands over hidden muscles before tweaking a pert caramel nipple. The assassin shuddered, wiggling and squirming until he could kick his pants off. He grabbed bronze hips in an iron grip and ground up into Daisuke's plush ass.
“Dai, no.” The Shuhan wrapped his hand around his lover's weeping erection and guided it to his entrance, pushing back until the head slipped inside. “You’ll hurt your … self?” Souta's eyes went wide in wonder when he realized the passage had already been stretched and lubricated. “When did you get so kinky?”
“The minute I heard you talking to Tatsuya about sleeping with the Shuhan.” Daisuke continued his slow slide down Souta's rock-hard shaft. When he was finally seated flush with his lover's pelvis he tipped his head back, pulling the tie out of his hair to let it cascade in a silky cocoa sheet that fell to just below his shoulder blades.
The assassin watched in awe as strong thighs flexed and the younger man began to slide back up the length impaling him. Souta's gaze remained riveted on the erotic tightening of bronze muscles as Daisuke paused before sliding back down.
The new Shuhan was apparently in no hurry, setting a leisurely pace that soon had his lover panting and moaning wantonly. “Kami,” Souta groaned when Daisuke let out a wail as his prostate was struck. The picture his lover made at that moment, lips parted and head tossed back in pleasure, sent his arousal spiraling even higher.
“I don’t think I can last much longer,” the assassin managed when Daisuke increased the pace. Souta wrapped his hand around the Shuhan's bobbing erection and began to stroke it firmly in counterpoint with the rhythm of his hips. The assassin sat up, strong arm around his lover, and pulled him tight against his chest as he began a punishing series of thrusts. Daisuke shivered and twisted before coming with a loud cry, seed spurting across the desk.
The assassin thrust a few more times into the clenching heat before giving a strangled wail and filling his lover with his seed.
