I hope you all find this even marginally satisfying. As I've said, smut is not my strong suit. (I'm wondering what *is* my strong suit, actually... I'll get back to you on that one.)

"No confessions… except one long overdue…."

Akari placed a stalling hand over his companion's mouth. "I don't need to hear it," he said. Truly, he didn't. Not anymore. The staggering depth of Hirato's sentiment had become manifest in the last few minutes.

He pulled the defense lawyer nearer by his necktie, digits curling under the silk with a neediness rarely displayed. Hirato followed, banding an arm about him so forcefully that it was almost painful—as though he couldn't get close enough.

A storm raged outside, heavy rain drumming a soothing tattoo on the walls and suffusing the room in shifting shadows. Sparkling glass was uncomfortably cool as Akari's back made contact, Hirato trapping him in place and interlacing their fingers against the window. Soon enough, however, small, steamy halos formed around their joined hands. The brunet's touch seared like molten wax—his agile fingers threaded through argentine hair; clever tongue rasping along a graceful neck. Even the way he leaned against Akari sent fever coursing through the blond's limbs, unmooring his bearing and enveloping his senses with the aroma of cloves and smoke.

Hirato had always been like that; he'd always felt incandescent.

They broke apart, breaths labored and dragging. "My room or yours?" Hirato inquired huskily. "Or we can do this right here, against the window." The suggestion was made with a quick nip along Akari's jawline.

"Yours is fine," Akari answered. "Unless you're aiming to attract voyeurs."

"Hmmm. Sounds interesting." The cunning devil laughed against his collarbone. "But I won't allow anyone else to see you like this."

"So your room it is," Akari murmured between greedy kisses.

"You won't like the view," Hirato's matter-of-fact tone was completely at odds with the fervor of his actions.

"I don't give a damn about the view."

Clothes were discarded haphazardly during their owners' unheeding pursuit of carnality in a well-practiced choreography that had never been forgotten—Hirato's tie just outside the office door, Akari's sweater on the living room rug. The defense attorney's glasses were tossed unceremoniously on the sofa; the blond's shirt on the floor. Hands traversed flesh as they stumbled towards the bedroom, fingertips finally unrestrained to etch patterns they'd drawn years ago. It was remarkable how Akari's muscle memories knew the exact manner in which to tune his lover's body—how scratching along Hirato's side precipitated tiny shivers and rubbing him through his trousers made sure steps falter momentarily. Maybe you belong to me too, he adduced from the way the brunet arched into him.

Once across the threshold, Akari pulled away and shoved Hirato to the bed roughly, pleased at the sprawl of long, pale limbs against dark sheets. Trim muscles flexed as the brunet propped himself up on his elbows. An unruly mop of inky hair lay in odd angles from being handled and the flush spreading across alabaster skin enticed like nothing else. Honestly, the man was devastating—a prize worth losing. The most alluring thing, though, was the way he gazed at his prey, pupils blown so wide that a mere sliver of amethyst ringed them.

Several moments passed in thoughtful silence as each regarded the other. Akari had never expected to find himself standing over a very nearly naked Hirato again. In fact, he thought he'd done a stellar job of avoiding the current situation. Well, until now, that is. How did it come to this? he pondered before being interrupted by a beckoning finger crooking over the waistband of his boxers.

"Come here," Hirato said gently, tugging him forward.

Having exhausted all refusals, Akari surrendered, crawling over the prone man while their lips met and parted and met again in an intricate dance. Dextrous hands traveled up his thighs and over his hips, finally resting against his shoulder blades as Hirato pulled him close. He remembered with striking clarity and bittersweet nostalgia the comfort he'd formerly sought in that embrace. And for once, he let himself succumb to illusory idyll. Fierce, determined kisses melted into a more deliberate, softer sort of play. Eventually, the brunet stilled altogether.

"Is something wrong?" Akari queried, enjoying their closeness.

"I want you to be sure."

Why must you ruin the mood? The DA groaned in exasperation and tried futilely to push away; Hirato's vice-like grip permitted no escape. A knotty mass of thoughts flitted through his mind, but one in particular surfaced from the murk, frightening him for reasons he'd rather not investigate: I'm not sure. But I want you regardless.

Finding no reply forthcoming, Hirato rolled the prosecutor on his back, brushing aside silvery strands. He brought their heads together, "Why now?"

"Why does it matter if you're getting what you desire?"

"Akari…" It carried the barest hint of pique.

The blond huffed, but he relented nevertheless. "Because I want to, Hirato. And because I'm not worried about tomorrow so long as tonight means something." It was honest. Perhaps exceedingly so, but he'd never acquired his lover's penchant for equivocation.

Then there it was—the roguish quirk of the lips that never failed to quicken Akari's pulse. "So, it's like I said. You're mine," the irresistible rake asserted, worrying a patch of skin just below the prosecutor's ear.

Akari did not bother to point out that he was not, in point of fact, Hirato's property. Instead he canted his head, a cast of provocation gleaming in opaline irises. "Claim me, then. If you can."

A challenge, counselor? I accept. Hirato nudged the shell of Akari's ear. "I intend to. You will come for me," he ordered, voice a predacious purr.

"I certainly hope so."

Hope was superfluous, Hirato knew, especially when Akari leaned into every press of lips. His breath hitched intermittently as the brunet left a neat pattern of bruises from jaw to stomach, being particularly attentive to the prosecutor's most sensitive areas. Chicago's most respectable Assistant DA would regret letting himself be marked so visibly in the morning, no doubt, but Hirato would happily endure the inevitable scolding. You told me to claim you, after all.

The defense lawyer would have smirked in self-satisfaction if his mouth hadn't traveled over the raised ridge of a scar – rough and hard, and wholly unsuited to the unblemished porcelain that it marred. Suddenly his chest grew tight, as if he were caught in a powerful undercurrent. Ominous feelings washed over him, heady and suffocating, and by the time they ebbed, he'd ceased his ministrations, psyche whirling wildly with imaginings of the decidedly darker variety. Two inches higher, and he wouldn't be here, warm and alive; he'd be cold, de—

"Hey," Akari called, careful palm cupping Hirato's cheek and drawing him from this dangerous ideation. "Where are you?"

There was no hiding from the other's penetrating stare. Not now, not when he was exposed in every conceivably way. Still, that didn't mean he had to answer truthfully. Or at all, really. In lieu of a proper reply, he bit Akari's nipple. Hard. The DA gasped, all thoughts of ill-timed interrogations obliterated by pleasure served on the edge of pain—just like he preferred it. A smirk finally appeared on Hirato's face then, betraying how delighted he was that his paramour's body was reacting to him as it always had. Like a concert violinist, he could play anyone with a maestro's skill—anyone but Akari, that is. The blond had always been less subject to his ample charms than others. That was precisely why making him come spectacularly apart was so enthralling; Akari didn't lower his defenses for just anyone.

Hirato applied more pressure to his bite, itching to taste more. In time, Akari was covered with uneven splotches of red, barely visible upon heat-flushed skin. His erection strained against his boxers, growing harder with each snip. Hirato trailed a scorching, slick path down his torso, causing him to writhe as saliva dried in the cool air. A contented sigh welcomed the brunet when he dipped an exploring tongue into Akari's navel and moved downward from there. He lingered at the waistband of the blond's shorts, tugging playfully at them with his teeth. Narrow hips lifted in aid of their removal… and then the prosecutor promptly sank back into the mattress when Hirato mouthed him through the thin cotton.

"Oh—fuck!" How the defense attorney had always loved that—that the prodigy's unparalleled vocabulary utterly failed in these circumstances.

"Hmmm," he hummed slyly, prompting another string of expletives. Akari's toes fought for purchase in the sheets as the brunet laved the head of his penis with enough saliva to make fabric stick to sensitive skin. Hirato could taste his lover, slightly bitter and viscous, and more satisfying than anything he'd ever sampled.

Sitting up, he finally slid those boxers off, taking time to remove his as well. The DA inhaled sharply as Hirato blew across the flushed, moist tip of his cock, withholding both heat and friction. A tremulous hand tangled through sable hair, gripping the strands with uncharacteristic force; evidently, Akari found delayed gratification rather unamusing. Determining that he'd teased enough, Hirato slipped his mouth over the strawberry blond. Akari almost arched off the bed with the first languid lick up his shaft. Lithe thighs trembled as the brunet worked, setting a leisurely rhythm and intending very much to unhinge his bedmate with every weapon in possession.

It's true what they say about sex and voyeurism, the defense lawyer concluded, because watching Akari watch him was fucking mesmerizing. His cock twitched at the way lust had turned the other's nectarine eyes a deep fuchsia. Or how long eyelashes fluttered with every downstroke. Light-colored brows furrowed when he stopped to coax a bit more pearly liquid from the slit. Then, without warning, without an iota of mercy, Hirato flicked his tongue in a manner that made Akari bite his fist violently enough to score. The gesture muffled his voice, but the brunet did not miss the choked out syllables of his name.

"Don't cover your mouth," he said. "I want to hear you. I want to hear what I'm doing to you." An agonizingly lazy trail along the blond's shaft. "All of it."

Akari nearly yelled as Hirato deep-throated him, chin tilted at the perfect angle to accommodate his entire length. He may not often gift his lovers with blow jobs, but like everything he essayed, he excelled at it. Cheeks hollowed, he sucked, causing the man underneath him to shudder and buck. No one else can take you apart like this. No one will ever take you apart like this.

When finally released, Akari went limp like a puppet with its strings cut.

Being mindful that the prosecutor's capacity for endurance had been handicapped of late, Hirato nuzzled him, murmuring quietly, "Are you okay?"

"I'm—I'm still fine," Akari managed around unsteady inhales, annoyance manifest in his tone. In retribution for his current state, he reached down and encircled Hirato's shaft, stroking him with just enough pressure to frustrate. He twisted his hand on each upstroke, derailing the defense attorney's cognition. Hirato's moan caught in his throat when Akari trailed a thumb over the crown of his penis, dragging come across the head.

He closed his eyes, focusing on the way the blond felt, the warmth of his hand as it moved, the flavor lingering on his lips, and the faint scent of sweat and sex that made the air around them pregnant with anticipation. Just this would suffice, he realized, as an ardent mouth slanted over his. Even this is more than I deserve.

Akari's eyes met his. "Are you having second thoughts?" he asked, lips ghosting against Hirato's.

Definitely not. He shook his head and deepened their kiss. Undeserving he may be, but the defense lawyer had forever been ravenous when it came to Akari.

"Then stop treating me like some precious gem."

Hirato laughed, face buried pinkish hair. "As you wish, my dear DA." A chaste peck on the cheek. "Don't move," he said, reaching over him and rummaging through the night stand for lube.

Akari didn't move, but he did taunt, fingernails scraping lightly across the flat planes of the brunet's stomach as he caught a nipple with his teeth. A sharp snap, and Hirato dropped the tube he was holding.

"Damnit," he hissed.

Akari chuckled darkly. "Did you think you were the only one who could effect such a reaction?"

We'll see who's laughing in a minute, he thought mischievously. He retrieved the lube and positioned himself between the other man's legs, squeezing a generous amount of the silky gel into his hands and rubbing them together to warm it. "No, but it would be terribly discourteous of me to extract such taxing labor from a cripple." A saccharine-sweet smile. "You know I'm no easy conquest."

"Who do you think you're calling a cripple, you bas—" And that was all he could articulate before Hirato silenced him with another sweep of tongue along his cock. "—shit."

"You were saying?" he said smugly before taking Akari in his mouth again.

The blond threw an arm over his eyes. "You—ah!—evil incubus…" He moaned filthily. "You'll pay for th-that."

The defense lawyer let up and glanced at his conquest. "Promises, promises," he quipped while stretching Akari's entrance—meticulously inserting one finger and another, waiting for the other's body to acclimate to the intrusion; they'd always been exceptionally careful with each other when it came to preparation. Still, that didn't mean he had to behave. After ensuring that the pain would be minimal (even though the blond wouldn't mind rough handling), he crooked his finger, stimulating Akari's pleasure point.

"Goddamnit, Hirato," the DA growled at the unintentional quiver, "Will you just get on with it?"

Being the obliging sort (sometimes), he placed himself at Akari's entrance and slid forward in an excruciatingly halting manner, drinking in the long hiss that resulted. He was almost completely inside when the prosecutor tilted his hips and hooked a leg over him, slamming them together.

"Shit." Now he was the one uttering curses under his breath. "Goodness you're impatient," he said, maintaining his trademark nonchalance with some effort.

Akari smirked. "I'm not one for dithering."

Hirato pulled back, maddeningly slow in his movements, and angled his next thrust to glide against the other's prostate. "I've waited too long for this; I'm going to savor you."

Another long, unhurried stroke and Akari's nails were cutting into his shoulders, drawing blood. The miniature lacerations stung as sweat dripped over them, yet he could focus on nothing but the man beneath him. Cerise eyes were clamped shut, eyelashes nearly disappearing behind tight folds of skin. Thin brows knitted together while the blond's mouth hung slightly open, kiss-stung lips swollen pink.

God, he's beautiful.

The DA's breathing grew shallower with each drive, every roll of the hips eliciting a haggard inhale. Seeing Akari like this—thoroughly undone—was the most sublime thing Hirato had ever witnessed.

"You're so tight," he teased, recalling that coarseness had always embarrassed his companion. It was ever so fun to torment him, even en flagrante delicto. "Just like I remember…."

Akari clenched.

"Fuck, Akari." His thrusts became arrhythmic as a consequence of this atypical craftiness. When did you get so devious, hmmm? he wondered. I must be a terrible influence.

All intellectual coherence was rent asunder with another clench.

Refusing to be out-maneuvered a third time, he hooked an arm under Akari's leg. Ever mindful of his lover's condition, he inquired, "Is this okay?"

Had Akari not been so… preoccupied, he'd surely have admonished. Or lavished the brunet with at least a dozen unflattering epithets. As it stood, he could only glower in displeasure at the apparently insulting question.

Hirato pressed a quick kiss to the inside of the prosecutor's knee and lifted it onto his shoulder. The new angle put unyielding pressure on his prostate—that is, if Akari's toes curling against air was any indication.

"Faster," the DA demanded.

The brunet's speed increased almost involuntarily, driven by the insatiable need to see Akari at the apex of pleasure, all pretense of composure abandoned. Already, every muscle in the blond's body was contracted. It wouldn't take long before he climaxed. In service of that end, Hirato set a punishing pace, giving him exactly what he hungered for—harder, faster, deeper. He stroked Akari in time with his thrusts, effecting ragged cries that echoed in the high-ceilinged chamber. And just as the DA approached the brink of orgasm, Hirato slowed once more. "Come for me, Akari," he said silkily.

Akari did just that, thick ribbons spilling between them, back curved in a graceful arc. Hirato watched unblinkingly as the blond climaxed so intensely that his knuckles turned white from clawing at the bedding. Overwrought muscles spasmed forcefully; the brunet could sense minute trembling thrumming through his own body. He rode out the orgasm, waiting for that nonpareil genius to return so that Akari would never misunderstand again: "I told you you're mine."

"Fuck," the DA called out, completely spent. "Hirato." But there was a satiated sort of quirk to his lips.

Hirato came a few strokes later, vision burning white as he buried his face in Akari's neck, the prosecutor's name muffled against delicate flesh. He fell atop his conquest in a sweat-drenched, sticky heap, reassured by the beating of the DA's heart—unsteady, to be sure, but very much present.

"How was that?" he asked, attempting to discern whether or not he'd hurt Akari.

"More mind-blowing than in my memories." A smile materialized in the voice.

"Not what I meant."

"I know," Akari conceded, chary fingers carding through damp, black hair. "I'm fine. Better than fine, in fact."

Akari couldn't determine what was more irritating—Hirato's ceaseless inquiries after his discomfort, or the way he smiled his Chesire smile as he took in the sheer mess he'd made of them. When the blond finally caught his breath, he leveled his stare at the self-assured bastard who'd propped himself up on an elbow to look down upon his prize in glory.

"Oh, stop it, you arrogant jerk," Akari said flatly.

The defense attorney smirked and snickered happily, dragging a finger through the cooling liquid now dripping along the DA's abdomen, his hooded gaze darkening further and not wavering one whit as he licked his finger. "Mmmm. Now why would you want to say such bitter things when you can be so sweet?" And then he smacked his lips.

When Akari's facility for thought returned, he pounced on his bedmate, pinning him against the mattress and crushing their mouths together hotly. Having years of intimate knowledge of the other's body was tremendously advantageous. While he was more vulnerable to touch and tongue before sex, Hirato was far more susceptible afterwards, his flesh so over-stimulated that mere breath floating across it made him shiver. Cognizant of as much, Akari slid against him, eliciting a strangled gasp. "Do you suppose I've forgotten how to fuck?" he whispered, low and rumbling at the brunet's ear.

Hirato inhaled sharply but regained his composure in record time. "Not at all. I'm sure your virtuosity is undiminished by your recent ordeal." And then he groaned as his inner thigh was pinched with enough pressure to bruise. Akari ground their half-hard shafts together, earning himself a hissed rebuke. "Damnit, Akari." Still, there was a victorious smile alighting those pale lips. "You're cheating."

"Maybe," he owned, capturing an open mouth and quite literally stealing Hirato's breath. "Or maybe, as much as I am yours, you too are mine."

Hirato blew across the back of his lover's neck, trying to recapture his attention. Akari was turned away from him, low lilac light making fine skin glow an eerie blue. Deep, even breathing suggested that the prosecutor was exhausted. Hirato was exhausted as well, but he was so pleased at having the other man back in his bed that he couldn't restrain himself. When breath failed, he placed his mouth against Akari's nape, scraping lightly with a canine.

That certainly worked. "I know what you're trying to do, but we are in no fit shape to commence round three." Akari stretched and yawned; Hirato nearly keeled over at how adorable it was. "Go to sleep."

I don't think so. He licked the edge of the blond's ear, making him start. A sly hand moved lower and lower along his side, slipping dangerously close to the waistband of his boxers.

Akari groaned and turned around, tucking his head under Hirato's chin. "Behave."

As he considered the warm weight of the other man fitted into his side (a rare sensation, even when they were involved), the spill of spun-silver hair against his flesh, and the soft, steady wafting of breath across his heated skin, he grinned in triumph. Lovely, he thought, unable to stop himself from smiling.

"And wipe that smirk off your face…" the DA intoned, eyes still closed.

So maybe Hirato wasn't as inscrutable as he imagined himself to be. Or maybe Akari had been right; maybe he'd belonged to the blond all this time.

He drew them closer. "Next time, I'm going to tie you up."

"Next time?" Akari stiffened in his arms. And then the defense attorney realized his mistake. "You know I can't stay."

"I know, Akari," Hirato said solemnly. And he did know, despite wishing it otherwise. "It would be unethical." But will you come back?

NB:

(1) I don't believe in seme/uke typology. Real relationships don't conform to such stereotypes, and even if I've not succeeded fully, I *am* trying to portray as real a relationship as possible. Even if I did believe in seme/uke typology, I don't think this couple fits.

(2) I tried to sneak some plot in here (apart from the last line... which is an obvious plot point). Let me know if I've failed on that front.

(3) There's much more to come, particularly in terms of Hirato and Akari's relationship and possible reconciliation. Again, things may not make sense presently. They will soon.

Azii-chan Writes Porn. A play in one act.

Azii: Tee hee. *click, click, click*

[pause]

Azii: *click, click, click* *blushes*

[extended pause]

Azii: *runs off and buries her face in her pillows*

[2 hours later]

Azii: *click, click, click*