Addicted to Lust

by Amy Tasukada

  “You’ll make it up to me tonight?” Hayato whispered into Masuo’s ear and gave it a soft nibble.

  “I need to finish this coat tonight.”

  Hayato groaned.

  “I promise I’ll make it up to you.”

  Hayato grabbed Masuo’s neglected hot chocolate and took a sip. “Fine.”

  Masuo finished the next section of wall before climbing down the ladder and doing it all over again.

  “How about a movie?” Hayato asked.

  “When?” Masuo said.

  “Next week? The twenty-second. Since you’re being such a workaholic until the opening.”

  “But that’s the day of the opening.”

  “What better way to celebrate?” Hayato said.

  Masuo shook his head. “I think I’ll be too tired.”

  “The day before, then?”

  “Then I’ll be busy preparing for the opening.”

  Hayato let out a dramatic sigh. “You’re getting way too good at this job.”

  “I promise we can see a movie the day after.”

  But Hayato didn’t need the distraction on the twenty-third as much as the day before.

  Hayato poked around on his phone until Masuo finished a half hour later.

  “All done,” Masuo said.

  “Can I at least buy you a beer to celebrate all your hard work?” Hayato said, knowing his tone sounded as annoyed as he felt. How could he ever accuse Masuo of being clingy after Hayato had hung out with Masuo every day for the past week?

  “Okay, one beer,” Masuo said. “Let me get changed.”

  “Can I watch?”

  Masuo laughed and shut the office door behind him.

  So Hayato waited, but it took forever.

  “Did the paint fumes make you so high you forgot how to button your shirt?” Hayato knocked and waited but got no reply.

  Hayato opened the office door, his jaw dropped, and a fire lit inside him.

  16

  “You yakuza are at it again.” Masuo tapped a set of handcuffs against his palm. “I’m going to have to take you in.”

  Masuo doubted he could keep the authoritarian police tone going for long. Dressing the part had helped get him into character, but with the glimmer in Hayato’s eyes, Masuo doubted he’d stay dressed for long.

  “Oh no, Mr. Police Officer.” Hayato pitched his voice high and dramatic. “I can’t possibly go to jail.”

  Anticipation nipped at Masuo’s nerves. He’d somehow managed to reject all Hayato’s lascivious advances with a mix of fortitude and a nagging doubt Hayato took their relationship as anything other than a love hotel bingo card. But when he’d strolled in with a hot chocolate to celebrate their one-week anniversary, the uncertainty had vanished, and Masuo dug out the police costume he’d stored in the back.

  “I suppose you’ll have to convince me you’re innocent,” Masuo said.

  “I’ll do anything.” Hayato arched his back against the doorframe.

  “Anything?”

  “Anything.”

  Masuo thrust out his hips. “Then you’d better get to thinking what might help me change my mind.”

  Hayato withdrew his lip gloss from the pocket of his cigarette pants and smoothed on a dusty-rose color. If the applicator had been his cock, Masuo would’ve come right then.

  “Certainly, Mr. Officer,” Hayato purred.

  He dropped to his knees. White flowers and black currants, the smell of Hayato’s skin, enveloped them. The jingle of Masuo’s unbuckled belt tolled like a distant bell. Then Hayato buried his face in Masuo’s crotch, and all his thoughts flew away like a spring breeze.

  In that single moment, Masuo realized he wasn’t in charge. Hayato controlled how things played out. He looked up, catching Masuo’s gaze, a mischievous glint in his amber eyes. His eyes were a cool stream on a warm spring day. Masuo could strip naked and swim in those amber pools. Masuo wet his lips, hungry for Hayato’s expertise.

  He pulled down Masuo’s zipper with his teeth. His nose dug through the slit in Masuo’s boxers. Hayato’s warm breath on his cock made Masuo realize how woefully unprepared he was for sober Hayato. He pulled out Masuo’s cock, and his eyes grew wide.

  “You’re pierced,” Hayato said with a gasp.

  Masuo grinned. “I’m full of surprises.”

  Not really. The frenum piercing was the only one not visible during his day-to-day. Still, Hayato reverently ran his thumb over the two silver balls resting underneath the head. The stroking was gentle at first like he was brushing the petals of a flower. Masuo moaned, tossing his head back, and Hayato’s touches grew more determined, bringing Masuo fully erect.

  Then Hayato’s shining lips opened.

  “Here, let me get a cond—”

  Hayato’s tongue licked up Masuo’s length, paying extra attention to the gauged barbell. He pulled away, nuzzling the cock like a cat with a toy.

  “You know, I always expected cops to be a little rougher and dirtier,” Hayato said. “Especially when dealing with the likes of a nasty yakuza.”

  “Oh, is that what you want?” Masuo swallowed back a moan.

  “If that’s okay, Mr. Officer.”

  “I’ll keep that in mind.”

  The number of horror stories Masuo had heard of the police breaking yakuza ribs and smashing fingers because cops knew yakuza wouldn’t bring up police brutality were staggering. Not to mention all the horrible things they did to foreigners. No doubt Hayato simply meant rough sex and some dirty talk. Masuo swallowed; without the drinks to cut the edge, he’d worried if he’d hold up to Hayato’s expectations.

  Masuo pulled out of Hayato’s touch.

  “Then strip and put on a show for me. Or else,” Masuo said, the sharp tone in his voice surprising even him.

  Masuo sat on the sofa, hand on his cock, already missing Hayato’s tongue. Though, the thin line of lingering saliva on the glans caused a shameless moan to echo from his throat.

  Hayato unwrapped his scarf in slow, deliberate turns. Then his hips swung to the soft melody he hummed. Masuo drank in the scene before him. He reached down and slowly stroked his cock. Their gazes met, and Hayato’s beauty struck Masuo like a summer storm. His body went into shock. His ears roared with the sounds of his beating heart.

  The buttons of Hayato’s coat came next. He worked them through and shrugged off the garment. He paused and bit his lip in mock nervousness.

  “Did I tell you to stop?” Masuo’s voice dripped with lust.

  “No, Mr. Officer.”

  “Then keep going!”

  Masuo kept the strokes to his dick slow, determined to have Hayato’s mouth be the thing to pull him over the edge. The contrast between the cold chill of the office and the heat from each pull and tug caused every exposed piece of skin to prickle.

  If Masuo had any doubt about Hayato’s enjoyment, it vanished when he saw the bulge in his pants. Masuo could even make out a distinct dark patch where the tip of Hayato’s cock sat.

  “Is that why you were so hesitant?” Masuo asked.

  Hayato looked down, pretending to be bashful. “I love a man in uniform.”

  “Let’s see how much you love them.”

  Hayato grabbed the ends of his jersey shirt and in a fluid motion pulled it off over his head. For someone who complained about the cold so much, Hayato didn’t layer up. Without an undershirt, his skin pebbled in the cold and his dark nipples hardened. They would look amazing pierced. Maybe in a few years. Though the silver barbell through his navel was damn sexy.

  Masuo gathered the precum leaking from his cock and slathered it around the head. His tongue grew heavy.

  The sound of Hayato’s fly unzipping snapped Masuo’s attention back to the present. Hayato took his time peeling back his tight pants, exposing more and more skin until they were so low it was obvious he wasn’t wearing underwear. Masuo didn’t know how Hayato could do it and not freeze his balls off.

  He stepped out of his pants shamelessly, cock gliste
ning with precum and looking painfully hard.

  “Now, let’s see what that mouth of yours can do,” Masuo said.

  Hayato’s Adam’s apple bobbed, and he kneeled in front of Masuo, then swallowed him whole. The man had no gag reflex. Masuo bit his lip, keeping himself from spoiling the tough-cop act by moaning, but that didn’t stop Hayato. He hummed around Masuo’s cock and let each slip and suckle hang in the air like a misty rain.

  Masuo’s fingers laced in Hayato’s bronze hair, guiding him deeper with each of his expert licks that left Masuo shuddering. The heat of Hayato’s mouth, the sounds of love in the air, and the musk of ecstasy mixed with the fruity bite of Hayato’s perfume filled Masuo’s senses.

  “I’m gonna—”

  Masuo loosened his grasp so Hayato could pull away, but instead he dove deeper. Masuo’s hips frantically bucked, making his cock hit the back of Hayato’s throat. But Hayato took everything Masuo had to give and then some. He shot his load, and Hayato sucked him dry, tongue lapping at his spent length like a melting ice cream cone. Masuo’s dick slid from Hayato’s swollen lips, leaving Masuo breathless. He pulled Hayato onto the sofa and into his arms.

  Masuo stroked the side of Hayato’s cheek before their lips met in a sloppy kiss. He could taste himself on Hayato’s lips.

  “That piercing is so hot,” Hayato said.

  “See? I told you piercings can be very erotic.”

  Hayato purred into Masuo’s ear. “You still up for playing Mr. Officer? It’s no fun unless both people are enjoying it.”

  Masuo bit his lip. Had he been so shit at the role-playing Hayato thought he wasn’t enjoying himself? Masuo should’ve waited so he could make a list of all the things he could do in a sexy cop role-play.

  Hayato ran his finger along Masuo’s forehead. “You’re going to get an ugly wrinkle here if you keep on worrying. It’s sex. It’s supposed to be fun. Go with the flow. Be spontaneous.”

  “I—”

  Hayato grabbed Masuo’s hand and placed it on his erect length. “See how hard you’ve made me? I can’t wait to have you balls deep inside me. I want to feel that piercing scrape my walls. I want you to fuck me into next month. Can you do that?”

  Hayato’s words caused an erotic wave Masuo had never experienced before. He could barely comprehend the finer details, but Hayato’s cock was humping his hand, and Masuo understood.

  Hayato kissed him again before giving Masuo’s soft dick a few pumps.

  “You come back fast, right?” he asked.

  Masuo nodded.

  “I expected as much.” Hayato bit his lip, working a light touch from Masuo’s sac to his tip. “Little Masuo isn’t so little. I know I said I wanted it rough, but give me a little time to adjust. I haven’t had anything that big while sober in a long time. That work?”

  “I can do it.”

  “Thanks, Mr. Officer.”

  Masuo took that as his signal to jump back into the role-play. He sucked and nipped at Hayato’s neck until he let out a sweet string of moans. His hard length had been neglected, but it didn’t stop Hayato from thrusting his hips toward him, begging to be touched. Begging for release. The rough fabric of Masuo’s pants couldn’t have felt good, but a cop wouldn’t care about Hayato’s comfort. Masuo would keep his pants on knowing how glorious the friction of skin and fabric could be.

  Maybe a cop wouldn’t leave a trail of hickeys on Hayato’s skin, but Masuo couldn’t help it. He wanted to mark Hayato like a bee sting. A lingering kind of beauty in the nip of pain. Something he’d remember after the night was over.

  Masuo left Hayato’s nipples and tongued around his belly button.

  “This looks good,” Masuo said.

  Hayato arched his back. “You think it’s sexy, Mr. Officer?”

  “Very. You walk around all sexy throwing yourself all over me.”

  “How could I not throw myself at you?”

  “I should arrest you for indecent exposure.”

  “Oh no.” Hayato opened his legs wider.

  “Now you’re asking for it.”

  “Hmm.”

  Masuo opened the desk drawer and took out a condom and a mostly empty bottle of lube he’d brought from home. He’d put them there knowing one day he’d finally take Hayato up on his innuendo about filling him up with his load every time he came to collect the day’s earnings.

  “I need to do a proper search before I take you in,” Masuo said.

  He slathered his fingers with the lube, and Hayato put himself more on display. One leg stretched to the top of the sofa, while his other leg bent at the knee to lift him up that much more.

  Masuo pressed one of his lubed fingers against Hayato’s pink bud. Hayato’s eyes were half closed. He let out a sweet little moan, and Masuo wanted to hear it every day and then some.

  “Look at this. You’re swallowing my finger,” Masuo teased. “You must be starving.”

  “I’m hungry for you.” Hayato lifted his hips a little more. “Right there, Mr. Officer.”

  “You like it here?”

  Masuo pushed another finger inside and kept pressing the spot that left Hayato writhing. His chest glistened with sweat, and he used his arms to push himself up.

  “You’re getting off from only my fingers,” Masuo said. “Aren’t you?”

  Masuo knew Hayato was watching, and that fact alone pushed Masuo to accentuate the movements.

  Scissor.

  Push.

  Scissor.

  Hayato completely surrendered. His moans were louder than a thunderstorm and left Masuo ready to burst.

  “And you’re leaking here.” Masuo rubbed the head of Hayato’s cock.

  “Mr. Officer, you seem to be excited again. Is there anything you want me to assist with?”

  “I think there’s one thing you can help me with.”

  “Really?”

  Masuo grabbed Hayato’s leg from the top of the sofa and brought it down. “I think you can figure it out.”

  He guided Hayato into position, his face pushed down on the sofa’s arm while his ass stayed in the air, waiting for more. His tattoo of twin red-and-blue dragons covered his entire back. Another work of art Masuo could admire along with the rest of the lines of Hayato’s body.

  Masuo rolled on the condom and pressed at Hayato’s entrance. His words echoed in Masuo’s mind. He took his time, probably going too slow for what Hayato wanted, as his hips kept on rocking back for more, but Masuo kept him in place.

  Masuo’s thrusts were slow at first, going in a little farther each time. Hayato let out a string of strangled cries, each one somehow louder and hoarser. Then Masuo gave a final rock of his hips.

  “I’m all the way in.” He nipped at Hayato’s back.

  “You’re so big.”

  Hayato couldn’t have stroked Masuo’s ego more than he had in that moment. Hayato pulled forward a bit before pushing back, fucking himself while Masuo was distracted. Masuo took over and set a steady rhythm.

  Hayato’s nostrils flared. His mouth opened wide on a string of guttural grunts. He pushed back, meeting each of Masuo’s thrusts, silently begging him to go deeper, harder, faster!

  Hayato was even more delicious than Masuo remembered, and the snap of his hips sent the small sofa rocking.

  Hayato’s hand snaked down to give himself some relief, but Masuo grabbed Hayato’s wrist.

  “Who said you could do that?” Masuo said. “I can’t trust you yakuza, can I?”

  Masuo snatched the handcuffs that had fallen between the cushions, pulled Hayato’s hands behind his back, and cuffed them. Hayato let out a frustrated groan. It almost felt a little mean, but Hayato wanted a rough and dirty cop, so he got one.

  Hayato’s neglected cock slapped against his stomach. Masuo’s pace increased, and he reached down and grasped Hayato’s hard length. Hayato let out a choked groan.

  “You’re going to come for me,” Masuo hissed.

  Hayato moaned something incomprehensible, but with a final
shallow thrust of Masuo’s hips, he was pushed over the edge. He came, hot and wet, and the clench of Hayato’s muscles milked Masuo to his own finish.

  Masuo took a few deep breaths and unlocked the handcuffs, rubbing at Hayato’s hands to get the blood flowing again. Then Masuo grabbed a stack of napkins leftover from his take-out dinner and cleaned up Hayato while he took care of the mess on the sofa.

  A sigh of contentment left Masuo, and Hayato pulled Masuo onto the couch. He couldn’t have asked for anything else in life besides a good job and someone he loved.

  Masuo’s hand trailed over the scar running down Hayato’s stomach.

  “How did you get this?” Masuo asked.

  “You really want to know?” It sounded like a dare.

  “I want to know everything about you.”

  Hayato snorted. “Don’t say I didn’t warn you. You heard about the Yamashina ward massacre?”

  “A little bit.”

  “The Korean mafia rammed into the safe-house garage. They spilled out like a smashed bottle of wine. My brother and I were on the second story, so we had a few extra moments to prepare and put together a quick plan.”

  Masuo hugged Hayato a little closer, glad he’d opened himself up to share the painful memory.

  Hayato wet his lips. “I ended up getting into a knife fight with one of them. I was lucky to survive with only this cut. Subaru grabbed some newspaper and pressed it so hard the ink came off on my skin anyplace not covered in blood. I think he was scared my organs would fall out. He took me to a yakuza-friendly doctor. Subaru didn’t have a scratch. So like him.”

  “I’m glad you made it out all right.”

  “My brother and I were the only survivors. They gave us a huge bonus and set us up with easy jobs as payment. An ugly scar might not be a bad trade-off.”

  Masuo traced the line of the scar. “I don’t think it’s ugly. It makes you look tough.”

  Hayato laughed. “Tough is the last thing I look.”

  “It’s like you said at the apartment viewing. You use the fact you don’t look tough to your advantage when people underestimate you.”

  “Yeah, then I kick their asses.”

  Masuo rested his head on Hayato’s shoulder. A nagging feeling clawed at him. He was twenty and finally cultivating the life he’d always wanted, but one thing kept nipping at him like a gnat in a room.