Another chapter!
Poor Itaku and Rikuo have been separated for a while. They need to be more open with each other.
Itaku: I don't want to hear that from you Hydra. You're the least open person in the world.
Hydra: Save it for your hubby, tsundere.

It was always the same, these insecure types. They wanted a good fuck, but were always too afraid of their own level of performance to truly have sex with another. All they did was throw money and be waited on like a bunch of disables. Takui hated the insecure types.

The man below him was a hotshot clerk to a hotshot businessman in these parts. Wiry, blading, glasses, crooked teeth, hands which never stopped roaming. Takui hated this insecure man who made him do all the work. They were in a rented room of a quaint tea house. The hostess, a plump woman with crows feet, were kind enough to rent them a room without questions for a night. With a hefty sum of course.

So here he was, bouncing himself lightly on the man's cock to build rhythm. He started out with low mewls and whines at first, the slowly built up the speed and the volume of his sounds. He pushed himself farther, faster and moaned louder. His hair was already slick with sweat from the exertion and his legs ached from being used for so long. The bouncing was becoming frantic as he heard his client's groans, felt his cock spasm in his hole, near the brink of release. He knew that the client was watching his own cock going in and out of his hole, a perverse kink. He threw his body up and down, up and down in short bursts, caressed the tip of his own cock and cried for the client to "Come inside me! Shoot your seed inside me!"

He was paid decently that night, but his legs and asshole were spent entirely.

~.~.~.~

Rikuo sighed heavily at the reports he was hearing. The trades that were under the Nura family's govern: the sugar trades, the coal trades, the lamp trades, the tea leaf trades and the iron trades were doing quite well but the main outlet for all this to happen isn't. About a week ago, one of their ships was reported to have sunk to the bottom of the ocean with all their cargo on it. It was the Horoka, a ship filled with tea leaves and lamps. A storm was the main cause, coupled with incompetent sailors. Other than that, sales from the small hawkers under their jurisdiction were dwindling and the wood industry which they had a share in was closing down.

Strictly speaking, these problems were supposed to be his father's, the second commander to the Nura family. But as the third heir, he had to start pulling his weight to be accepted as the next head. He went through the reports again, wanting to see if he had missed out anything at all of importance. A few days back he visited Maeno, that swine at the ports to make trade with him. They needed sugar and coal, lots of it. These were the two foremost trades of their family.

A few days back, he swore he saw a head of familiar messy dark hair and a flash of beautiful amber eyes. Rikuo groaned and banged his head on the tabletop repeatedly. All he had been thinking about this whole week was of a certain youth whom he brought to see Zen. Takui. But he couldn't have been there. He was most definitely one of those people in Yoshiwara.

No, screw that. He knew exactly what he was. Rikuo had always been a curious child, so he began to discreetly ask questions about the youth in the alleys of the red light district. It chanced upon that Kejorou, their leading oiran knew about the youth. She took pity on him and even handed him a map dictating all the to-go places for a quick catch. Rikuo didn't know whether to be happy about it or disappointed. He was kind of hoping Takui did not go into that profession, that he was there merely by chance on that rainy night.

Fate was never on his side. She liked to see him ripped open and stitched back up only for the whole process to repeat itself. Fate, clearly, was a bitch of the highest degree.

"Rikuo-kun?" came his mother's, Wakana's, waify voice. "Rikuo-kun?"

"Ah, I'm here mother!" he called, looking up from his papers.

A brown haired woman with sweet honeyed eyes pushed the paper door open, a smile on her lips. "It's getting late Rikuo. You should go to bed earlier." She came over and patted his head. "You won't grow taller if you sleep late, you know?"

Rikuo smiled gently back to her at the old superstition. He remembered her telling him the same thing night after night when he was younger. "I will mother. I just need to get some work done first." At her worried glance, he hastily added "I promise I'll go to bed earlier okay?"

Wakana pursed her lips in disbelief. "Oh alright, if you say so Rikuo." She knew her son was stubborn when he wanted to be. Just like his father. She kissed his forehead, bade him goodnight and retired to her shared room with Rihan, his father.

Rikuo listened to her close the door softly, her footsteps barely audible on the thick tatami mats. As soon as she was out of earshot, he continued to bang his forehead on the tabletop. Takui, you already have me in your grip. He peeked out from his bangs onto the blurred words written on the scrolls. You just don't know it yet.

~.~.~.~

Itaku was hard at work again today. The carts had came in more than ever, bearing large amounts of sugar and coal. Maeno had stressed that today's cargo would be especially important, since they were going to be delivering these goods to a very esteemed house in the region. No mistakes were going to be tolerated on this day, so they had all better work double hard.

Most of the workers were complaining incessantly about the unfairness of it all. Why should they not make mistakes just because some influential person's goods had come to port? It was ludicrous! Itaku didn't mind at all if it meant more money.

This past week he had been throwing himself vigorously into Takui's line of work. He had become more active in grabbing his customers, he had become more open to their suggestions of foreplay and had indulged them more broadly than he would have liked.

All because of the image of one man which he never fully got out of his mind. Nura Rikuo. Itaku tried his damnest to forget about him, that charismatic man who had managed to worm his way into the depths of his subconscious and make him fidget with desire every morning. The blue haori was kept in his drawer of sparse clothing, to be taken out in the early mornings when he could no longer contain himself or the nights when he felt especially lonely. He was becoming a pathetic little worm but who cared enough to see him transform into it?

The carts were packed and ready to go by midday. Everyone felt a weight lifted from their shoulders as Maeno announced they could have the rest of the day off since no more ships were coming in. A cheer went up from the crowd.

Itaku himself was planning to go home early and get some much needed rest, but was stopped by Maeno's call. "Itaku! I need you to handle one of the carts!" he shouted urgently.

"Huh? One of the carts?" But the carts were horse-drawn not by the workers who loaded cargo.

Maeno frowned perceptibly, baggy jowls jiggling. "Are you slow or something? One of the carts has no driver. The idiot fell sick!" He crossed his arms furiously. "God in heaven, it's one of the most important days of the month! And that stupid fellow goes sick as a pig!"

Itaku didn't really want to know who that poor fellow was. He was surely about to have his pay cut or fired immediately from. "Got it boss. I just have to man one of the carts right? I'll follow the others to the estate."

"Good one Itaku! I shall see to it that you have a little benefit by the end of the day!" Maeno slapped him on the back with his paper fan, as if he was doling out an offer so generous.

Itaku merely shook his head in disbelief. I wonder, why does it feel like something bad is going to happen soon enough?

Thank you for reading everyone!
Hope you enjoyed this chapter. Please rate/review, I'd greatly appreciate it!
(I should really make Rikuo and Itaku meet each other already, the story is starting to drag.)