OLD AN: One note... last chapter someone asked about the character name Hiroki chose as his alias. I would imagine he picked it as Shunsuke Hinoki led a man into a dark sexual underworld... he is a symbol of the corruptness that Hiroki sees Matsuo's world pulling young men into.
Personally I chose it because to my western ear Hiroki and Hinoki sound very close, so it would be close to Hiroki's name in some way. And the terrible punner in me liked that the surname could be broken down into "shuns uke" which is exactly how I think of Hiroki's character. He is portrayed as an uke but shuns relegation to the conventional stereotypes for me in a number of ways... So that's that.
The Escort
Chapter Twenty-Nine: Dinners and Drivers
Goosebumps formed on Hiroki's lean limbs the moment he divested himself of his clothes and the cool air of the apartment found his bare flesh. Fortunately for him, the motions of cleaning soon heated his chilled skin.
Despite the embarrassment he felt having to be so revealed before Ijuuin, he moved purposefully around the artist's apartment, gathering debris, sorting out recyclables, and sticking things in trashbags. Hiroki attacked the task at hand with his normal single-minded fervor and spoke only when necessary and then solely to ask questions about where something went.
Once the detritus of Ijuuin's forced creative frenzy had been cleared, Hiroki emerged from the kitchen with a pail of hot soapy water and a scrub brush to rid the man's wood floor from a multitude of coffee and energy drink stains. He surveyed the patterns of the artist's spillage.
How one person managed to make such a mess of things was beyond him.
"You know, Kurosa-kun always keeps up an easy banter when he's here." Ijuuin's voice had a lazy lilt to it as it drifted to him from across the room.
Hiroki knew he was being rude when he answered, by not turning to face Ijuuin who was still sitting on the couch .
"Well, with me banter costs extra." He did set the pail down and turned around, however, at the snort that followed his statement and the low groan that succeeded it. Hiroki noted with mild disgust that at some point, as he had been tidying, Ijuuin had opened his pants and taken out his cock. The artist's purpled dick was not insignificant.
Ijuuin stared at him through heavy-lidded eyes and pulled languidly on himself, obviously relishing displaying his engorged member.
"I suppose it would cost extra for you to do a little polishing here as well then?"
Hiroki crossed his arms over his bare chest and replied defiantly without any trace of a blush. "This date was specified 'no contact' and besides, for what I'd charge you to touch that… You couldn't afford it."
Ijuuin closed his eyes and tipped his head back. He laughed softly, his hand never leaving his crotch. "I like your fire… Matsuo-san wasn't kidding when he said you'd be a good replacement, Hinoki-kun, though Kurosa-kun's not adverse to a little extra cleaning duty."
This caught Hiroki's attention and he unconsciously lowered his arms slightly and stepped a bit closer.
"What do you mean? Kusam.. er Kurosa-san doesn't jack you off. This is a no contact gig. Right?" He kept his voice as flat as possible and hated himself for his curiosity.
A low chuckle burred in Ijuuin's throat. "Oh, no. Kurosa-kun is far more accommodating than you, my irascible Hinoki… Wonderful mouth that boy has… always ready for conversation… and other things…"
Hiroki's eyes dropped to follow the motions of Ijuuin's hand as his cheeks pinked with shame.
"But he won't wear that maid's costume either," Ijuuin sighed.
At the artist's first disclosure a knot had formed in Hiroki's low belly at his second it slipped slightly.
"If you're going to be so stubborn, would you at least hand me that lotion then?" Ijuuin asked with false politeness, his free hand flicked towards a bottle on the coffee table before him.
Hiroki said nothing, but dropped his arms down completely and moved over to the low table, trying hard not to grumble that it was less than two feet away from Ijuuin and easily five times that distance for him.
He scooped it up and gritted his teeth as he bent slightly to offer the lotion to his client with both hands.
Ijuuin opened one dark eye and was not so far gone in the rapture of his manual attentions that he couldn't annoy the young professor with a smarmy grin. As he took the lotion he made sure to brush Hiroki's hand.
"You know those other boys just do anything I say. No question, no dignity, that's their job after all... but you and Kurosa-kun... you're different. I like a bit of resistance. It makes things… interesting."
"I'll remember that," Hiroki murmured as he stepped quickly away to return to his cleaning, anxious to get the hell out of there as soon as possible.
"Oh, Hinoki-kun…" Ijuuin called to Hiroki's well sculpted back.
Hiroki turned and eyed the man coldly.
"I'd like you to start washing the floor right there in front of me. On your hands and knees, please," Ijuuin purred throatily.
Hiroki suppressed a shiver at the weight of the lust in the manga ka's voice.
"Sure," he growled as if it made no difference to him. He retrieved the bucket, his face hot, as he positioned himself in the designated spot and knelt to start scrubbing.
"Angle your sweet ass this way a bit."
Hiroki bit the inside of his cheek as he silently complied. He knew that Matsuo had arranged this date to humiliate him for his own loss of face earlier that afternoon and to make him think less of Nowaki.
If anything, however, it was having the opposite affect: he was more determined than ever to get Nowaki out of this situation and his admiration for what the younger man had been so stalwartly enduring had grown a thousand-fold.
Dipping into the hot water and leaning on the brush as he scrubbed the artist's floor, Hiroki turned his usual intensity upon this new task. He slipped into a meditative space and tried to stir the bristles enough to mask the rapid slicking of Ijuuin's hand and the building gasps and low growls emanating from the direction of the sofa.
He thought of Nowaki politely declining to wear the maid's costume and a grim smile formed on Hiroki's face. He imagined Nowaki's sweet gentle voice and all the possible permutations of rejection language would allow him.
Hiroki had employed similar strategies long ago to block out other unpleasant experiences. Gratefully, he found quickly he hadn't lost the knack.
Once he started thinking about Nowaki, outside his lover's imagined tones he heard nothing else.
After he had cleaned enough to satisfy Ijuuin, Hiroki had showered and changed into his suit.
Of course the artist had slipped into the bathroom and informed him that he would be joining.
Once they had it clear that the "no touch" clause was still firmly in place, Hiroki relented. He told himself it was really no different than showering at the gym or a public bath, the only difference being that at those places, he had never been forced to endure washing himself while someone devoured him with his eyes and masturbated.
Hiroki had exited the shower and quickly dressed while Ijuuin stayed behind to "clean himself up."
Feeling much more secure in the armor of his suit, Hiroki had moved about the much tidier front room studying the contents of the man's bookshelves while he waited.
He was surprised to find that as much of an ass as he was; Ijuuin had a fair collection of good novels and oddly a hell of a lot of cookbooks.
He frowned when he saw a number of Akihiko's titles randomly housed amongst the man's shelves. Despite what had happened at the University and in their last awkward phone call, Hiroki still held Akihiko's work in high esteem. It bothered him to see Akihiko's books treated so commonly.
A cold hand gripped his chest at the thought of what Akihiko would say if his friend ever found out what he was doing tonight. Trying to escape this uncomfortable speculation, Hiroki drifted over to the artist's manga collection.
"You read manga?"
Hiroki turned to see Ijuuin enter the room from the hall. The man was dressed in a sharp suit and, considering how he'd looked when he'd first encountered him, despite his recent releases, Ijuuin seemed incredibly revived,.
After his humiliations, Hiroki really had no desire to engage the manga ka in conversation. However, knowing that his function for the night was to "entertain," he finally decided to answer. Even so, Hiroki didn't think much of the genre and while he would be conversational, he would also be truthful and not fawning.
"No, not really."
"Are your books here, Ijuuin-sensei?" He was really only mildly curious but he could tell immediately that this question pleased the artist immensely.
"Ah, yes. These are mine." Ijuuin reached alongside Hiroki, far too close for the professor's comfort, but Hiroki didn't shy away or say anything. The artist handed him a text. Hiroki took it respectfully and opened it.
His keen eyes danced over the pages as he turned them carefully: regardless of the contents, it was still a book.
"So you have created a superhero chef?" Hiroki asked after about a dozen pages, lost in the text so completely he had not noticed how intensely Ijuuin was scrutinizing him.
"Basically." Ijuuin was far more interested in what the escort standing before him thought of his work than he wanted to admit.
"And the subtext?"
The artist's brows rose at the question. None of his previous companions had ever asked that question, not even Kurosa, who was incredibly sharp. He looked at the fierce inquiry held in the bright eyes that stared up at him from the book.
"Appetites," he said without humor.
Hiroki nodded at this thoughtfully and closed the book. "I suppose, given that, it must do well for you."
Ijuuin was surprised by the comment. It was true that, despite its simple surface, the series had been an immediate success and its popularity had quickly propelled him up amongst the industry's top artists.
Offering the book back solemnly, Hiroki couldn't help but slip into scholar mode. "Even with your contemporary style, I can liken elements of your drawings to a dozen historical sources. Did you catch the last Hiroshige exhibition at the Fuji Museum?"
Seeing the brunet was serious and not trying to be pretentious as some of Matsuo's boys were, Ijuuin was compelled to ask. "Are you an art student, Hinoki-kun?" He was finding the complexity of his companion increasingly intriguing.
"Literature," Hiroki offered allowing Ijuuin to continue in the misperception he was a student and not the one leading the classes. "But I enjoy classical things in all their various forms." He blushed slightly, realizing getting caught in the manga as he had; he'd forgotten the situation he was in for a moment.
"Ahh… then you must find my story disappointing, compared to much more substantial works," Ijuuin said this with a note of bitterness as he gestured toward the regular book section of his case.
Hiroki observed with some chagrin that the man had inadvertently pointed to one of Akihiko's novels. He dropped his eyes.
"Only time will tell what is to become a classic."
Then thinking of Nowaki Hiroki added, "Just because something seems simple in some ways, doesn't mean it doesn't contain elements of masterpiece."
Ijuuin was startled by the sudden softness in Hinoki's words and their implications, though he misunderstood them as being directed at him. He studied Hiroki carefully looking for signs the other was flattering him and only detected earnestness in the young man's expression.
"You should keep that," Ijuuin offered, nodding at the manga still held outstretched in Hiroki's hands.
"Ah, that's very kind, but I really couldn't accept it. It would be unprofessional." Hiroki turned pink. In truth, he wanted no memento of this evening.
"Unprofessional? You are a strange one," Ijuuin laughed. Most of the escorts he met would accept any kind of gift and were greedy for more. "It's a first edition. They're out of print now. I'll even sign it for you."
"No, really, I cannot accept it, though it is an incredibly generous offer, Sensei. You should give it to someone more deserving."
"I insist. You will offend me and I'll think your words were insincere if you don't accept it." Ijuuin's voice held the barest tone of annoyance.
Hiroki bowed, though internally he grimaced. "Then, please, I'd be honored to accept it."
"Good, now that's settled, this prior talk of appetites has made me hungry. Let's go eat!" Ijuuin suddenly clapped his hands together happily, placated.
Hiroki followed the man out of the apartment after carefully tucking the copy of the artist's manga in his bag before leaving.
Ijuuin, ever the watcher, looked on approvingly.
Hiroki listened to the man prattle about all the gourmet dishes they had at the restaurant they'd be visiting as they began to head off down the hall. Ijuuin all but smacked his lips in anticipation of their impending meal. His escort however, though he nodded politely, had absolutely no appetite.
Hours later, Hiroki stood outside Ijuuin's building waiting for one of Matsuo's cars to come pick him up. He had told the pimp he didn't need the ride but Matsuo had insisted.
Hiroki's lips were tingling and he rubbed them again, as he had been repeatedly, trying to wipe off the lingering sensation of the artist's kiss.
His face burned at the recent memory.
Once they left Ijuuin's apartment, up until the end of their date, everything had gone surprisingly well. Despite what tastes the fast food wrappers and takeout boxes littering his apartment had indicated, the man did know his food.
The exclusive restaurant Ijuuin had been raving about, turned out to be one Hiroki had visited in his father's company when he was younger.
After his initial unease that he would run into his father or one of his cronies dissipated, Hiroki had felt himself relaxing. He'd allowed his client to buy him one drink, but nursed this throughout the evening, desiring to keep a clear head.
Ijuuin on the other hand ordered several and was soon in quite high spirits.
Despite the humiliation at the man's flat, as with the books, Hiroki felt himself gradually pulled into conversation.
While Hiroki was quick to perceive Ijuuin's underlying low confidence and his almost constant need for affirmation, the striking, dark-haired artist was really quite sharp and they had a number of spirited debates, one of these over Akihiko's novels.
Ijuuin read them faithfully but he was not a fan and declared the works "colorless."
Buoyed by the excellent food and the vigorous conversation, Hiroki had felt fairly good when they'd initially returned to the manga ka's flat afterwards, where he'd changed back into his casual attire.
Fortunately, Ijuuin had not demanded to watch and so he was able to retreat to the bathroom and slip out of his suit in peace.
When he'd emerged the artist had made tea and had offered him a seat on the couch while they waited for Matsuo's car to retrieve him. Hiroki had located himself several feet from the artist and as far away as he could get from the place where Ijuuin had previously sat masturbating.
It was not long after they'd sat down though that everything had gone quickly to hell.
"You know, Hinoki-kun," Ijuuin said nonchalantly as he poured the tea. "I have very much enjoyed your company tonight."
Hiroki remained silent and so Ijuuin continued. "I like the way your mind works and your adherence to your values, it's refreshing. Have you ever considered taking a patron lover?"
Hiroki blushed hotly at this. "Excuse me?" He was sure he had misheard.
"Though I am not too much older than you, look at the success I have amassed for myself… And I can only see this growing. I am a determined sort of individual myself… Though I do occasionally need someone to boost my spirits...
"You seem to be a man with a pragmatic nature.
"Let me negotiate your contract with Matsuo… Then, you come stay with me.
"Your words… they somehow inspire me. I can see that I would benefit greatly in my work if I had such support.
"I will pay for your schooling. I am sure that I could get you a position in the literature department at Marukawa too, if you like. It is a house of good standing."
Hiroki's dark eyes grew huge as he struggled to take in what Ijuuin was proposing. His cheeks burned crimson now as he scooched back into the corner of the couch.
"What in the hell are you saying, Sensei?" he gasped as Ijuuin suddenly shot forward and took his face is his hands.
"I am confessing to you," Ijuuin whispered breathily. "I am an artist, a man of appetites, and I love you, Shunsuke Hinoki!"
Turning his head as Ijuuin pressed against him and leaned in for a kiss, Hiroki felt the manga ka's lips graze across the corner of his mouth.
He set his hands against Ijuuin's chest and pushed with all his strength. Not expecting such strong resistance, Ijuuin flew backwards against the cushions.
Hiroki jumped up immediately.
"I cannot accept your confession, Sensei. And you have breached the agreement for this appointment. I am going to wait outside for the car." He nodded down at the untouched tea. "I thank you for the gesture, but I am leaving."
Ijuuin's groin was immediately stirred by the fire in the brunet's eyes. He started to rise from the couch, but halted his motions when his escort growled fiercely.
"Try and touch me again and I swear you will regret it!"
The artist had no doubt from the tone the young man meant exactly what he said.
"Cute," he murmured, as he slowly continued to rise from the couch, holding his palms upraised as a sign of his capitulation.
Hiroki turned and gathered his garment bag from where it was draped over the back of a chair. He strode to the door and gathered his other things from the entry after slipping into his shoes.
Ijuuin had drifted along behind him, keeping a safe distance. He watched Hinoki with a wry grin on his face. This faltered, however, when his escort reached into the bag and pulled out the copy of the manga he'd given him.
"I was wrong to agree to accept this before. I did not mean to mislead you in any way. I must return it to you with my sincere apologies," Hiroki said formally.
Once again, Ijuuin was stunned by the uncharacteristic honor and the regal bearing of the youth before him.
"No, Hinoki-kun, it is I who must apologize. I was out of line, please forgive me. You are right, I overstepped my bounds."
Hiroki's eyes widened as the artist offered him a significant bow. As he straightened, Ijuuin nodded at the text. "Please keep it as a token of my respect and my remorse."
Against his better judgment Hiroki reluctantly tucked it back into his bag.
"And this too," Ijuuin offered. He withdrew a fat roll of bills from his pocket and held it out towards Hiroki with a slightly sheepish air.
Hiroki scowled at the notes and made no movement to take them. "What's this? Matsuo-san told me you already paid him."
"This is your tip, an expression of my gratitude for a most memorable evening." Ijuuin seemed to have regained his composure somewhat and his voice was both humorous and earnest as he said this.
"I don't want it," Hiroki growled and blushed as he took his jacket off the peg in the hall and awkwardly donned it while not relinquishing any of the things he was carrying.
"Ah, you really are so proud and so new to this, aren't you Shunsuke-san."
Hiroki looked up in surprise. It was the first time the other man had addressed him respectfully all evening.
"Matsuo-san takes a percentage of your tips and the driver will be expecting a gratuity."
Ijuuin's smile had returned to him in full.
"So unless your pockets are already lined, you really might want to take this." The artist gestured with the roll of notes in a beckoning manner.
"Did he not explain this to you either? Tsk." Ijuuin shook his shaggy head. "I swear, how that man stays in business..."
This new information appalled Hiroki. Now that he understood this and knew of Nowaki's goals (and his debt), the starkness of the younger man's apartment made complete sense to him.
"Take it." Ijuuin's voice had lost its humor and become quite sincere. "If I know Matsuo, you're going to need it. Besides, it was worth it for your time tonight.
"I can't recall when I have had a more engaging conversation… Somehow even in your stubborn resistance you bolster me."
Ijuuin stepped forward slowly and cautiously pressed the bills into Hiroki's unencumbered hand.
Hiroki stared down at the bills. Before he could say anything in response, Ijuuin leaned in and gave his lips a soft peck. Then he turned and ambled out of the entry and down the hall.
He spoke without looking back, a forced levity in his voice. "I trust you can see yourself out, Shunsuke-san.
"You know between you and Kurosa, I'm going to have a hard decision to make, come the end of the next cycle. I don't suppose you two do 'doubles'?"
The chill night air caressed Hiroki's cheek calling his mind back from his memories of the evening. He reached into his pocket and pulled out the bills.
It was a considerable amount of cash Ijuuin had given him and the weight of it felt far too heavy in his hand. His eyes were distracted from the vice-laden roll as a long car pulled up beside him.
The driver got out bearing a clipboard with a bank envelope attached to the top of it. The man's stature struck Hiroki, as it had when he'd first been picked up outside his apartment. He was well aware that this man was no mere driver: he was also meant to serve as an enforcer, ready at any moment to handle troublesome clients or escorts.
Without grace the man pulled the roll of bills out of Hiroki's hand and set to immediately counting the money. Hiroki cheeks burned with humiliation that he would perform such a crass act so openly; despite the fact the street was relatively quiet.
The burly driver snorted.
"Stupid," he muttered. "This is more than Ijuuin-san said he was going to give you. You should have stuffed the extra away. Now Matsuo-san is going to want his percentage on the overage too."
He peered over his dark glasses craftily. "Look, you give half the overflow to me and I'll mark you down as receiving the previously noted amount."
Hiroki had no idea how driver managed to see at all wearing sunglasses like that at night. This annoyed him for some reason almost as much as the dishonest proposition.
"No." He said simply. "Give Matsuo his full cut and tell him to apply the rest to the principal of Kusama-san's loan."
This caught the driver's attention. He looked as though he thought to say something sharp, but the expression on Hiroki's face stopped him.
Once he'd stuffed the money into the envelope and finished his notations he moved over silently to the door to the back of the mini-limo and opened it for Hiroki. Hiroki gave him the address of Nowaki's building as his destination before entering the car.
After stepping in and sitting down, Hiroki was surprised to see three other men in back.
It was a time of night that many of Matsuo's escort's milder dates concluded, so the driver had been making his rounds when Hiroki's call had come in. He nodded politely to the other men and then sat quietly studying his hands.
"So you were Ijuuin-sensei's 'maid' this month?"
Hiroki raised his dark eyes to locate the owner of the petulant voice that had just questioned him.
He noted with some surprise that he recognized the speaker. The blond youth seated across from him was the boy who had been with Haruhiko at the museum the day the older Usami brother had first given him Matsuo's card.
The young whore occupied the limo seat with an air of ownership and glared at him openly.
Hiroki didn't really want to talk to anyone at the moment, nor did he appreciate the blond's rudeness, but he understood as well he was clearly out of his territory and he didn't relish the thought of anymore trouble this evening.
"In a manner of speaking, I suppose I was," he said softly, though not so quietly as to seem unsure of himself.
"I don't know who the fuck Kusama thinks he is!... Getting away with stuff like that… Getting you to pull his shift…
"He thinks he's so much better than the rest of us… like he's not a whore too!…" The blond all but spat these words at Hiroki.
Hiroki was stunned as to how to respond to this unprovoked attack.
Not only that, but he felt he should be defending Nowaki's honor. As he was trying to formulate a response, two things happened simultaneously. First his cellphone, which he'd left in his bag during his date, buzzed signaling an incoming text. Second, the driver turned around and spoke harshly to the blond.
"Yukio, leave the man in peace!" The handler growled. Seeing the blond open his mouth to begin protesting, he cut the young escort off.
"I mean it! Shut your fucking mouth, Yuki! Before I pull over and shut it for you. I have been listening to you bitch the last twenty minutes and I'm sick of it!"
The tone of the driver's voice not only silenced Yuki, but Hiroki noted the other two young men in the car visibly shrank at the threat.
Once again, Hiroki felt his resolve grow at getting Nowaki out of this harsh environment. As soon as it seemed Yuki had acquiesced and peace had been restored, Hiroki reached into his bag and pulled a few things out, setting them beside him as he sought to locate his phone.
Flipping it open and checking his texts Hiroki felt a melancholy warmth fill his chest at the message.
Hiro-san, I don't want to disturb you and Miyagi-san in your meeting. Are you still coming over? Don't worry how late it gets, I'll wait up. I want to see you before I go tomorrow. Work hard.
Love, Nowaki XOXOXOXOXO
"Idiot," Hiroki muttered. "You should be sleeping." Still, the corners of his mouth quirked up slightly at the message.
I'm on my way. Be there in less than an hour. Go to sleep, I'll wake you up when I get there."
Kamijou
Hiroki looked up after sending the text to see the pretty, dark-haired youth who sat next to Yuki looking with huge, blue-gray eyes at the things he'd displaced from his bag.
"Is that a first volume 'The Kan'?" the boy breathed excitedly. Despite the eager shine in his eyes, his tone was slightly timid.
"Yes." Hiroki nodded, then seeing the hunger in the pale youth's gaze, he picked up the book and offered it to the boy.
He watched as the young escort reached for it hesitantly and took the manga with an air of reverence. His heart broke a bit watching the petite youth carefully turn through it. He would have been surprised if the boy was a day over sixteen.
"Uwaaaaahhhh," the teen exclaimed appreciatively." Not only is it a first volume but it's signed." Large blue eyes looked up admiringly at Hiroki. "Wow, Onii-san, you're lucky!"
"You like manga?"
"Yeah… soooo, so much!" the boy said happily. The light in his eyes dimmed only slightly as he added. "I used to really want to be a manga artist. Some people think I am a pretty good drawer."
Next to him, Yuki snorted derisively. Hiroki watched the dark-haired boy wince at the harsh sound.
Hiroki frowned witnessing these dynamics. It bothered him the boy's use of the past tense in terms of his dreams, particularly considering how young he looked. "Look, kid, if you want it you can keep it," he offered casually.
Yuki's pretty face darkened immediately in the same ratio as the other escort's brightened.
"Really?" The teen gulped. Then he seemed to catch himself. He blushed and held the book out to Hiroki with trembling hands.
"That's so very kind, Onii-san, but I can't accept something so valuable. I'm sorry."
The want in the young escort's voice was so barely concealed Hiroki felt his heart break a little more for the boy.
"Look I don't really read manga, and I believe a book should belong only to someone who will really appreciate it. Otherwise what's the point of having it? You keep it. I insist."
The shy happiness radiating from the youth was almost overwhelming.
"Wahhhh, Thank you so much!" the teen beamed. He turned to an equally young looking man with black hair and dark brown eyes who was sitting next to Hiroki. This escort had been silent from the moment Hiroki had slid into the car.
"Look,at what he gave me, Kisa-san!"
Kisa nodded and gave the other escort a slight, humoring smile.
They had just stopped at a light when the driver took a call on his cell. He looked in the rearview mirror and spoke to the teen holding the manga. "Chiaki-chan, that was Matsuo-san. Sorry, son, but you just got a late-night request from Hatori-san, so I can't take you home."
The enthusiasm in the teen's blue eyes died immediately, and the boy pulled the book closer to his chest as though it was a shield.
"Tori?"
The boy whispered the name in a shaky exhalation. Hiroki watched as Kisa rose up off the bench next to him and slipped over and sat down next to Chiaki. He set a thin arm around even thinner shoulders.
"It'll be okay, Chiaki-kun," Kisa said comfortingly.
At that the smaller boy tucked his face into Kisa's shoulder.
"He was just so rough last time, Kisa-san, even though Matsuo-san told me he would be nice since it was my first time." Chiaki sobbed quietly.
Kisa ran a hand through dark locks. "He said he was sorry though… Didn't he? Afterwards," the older escort soothed.
"Y…yes," Chiaki gulped. "He said he'd be more gentle next time too… I just didn't think he call on me again so soon," Chiaki whispered rubbing his eyes.
"Fucking baby!" Yuki sniffed.
Kisa's brown eyes glared fiercely at Yuki. "Not everyone is a masochist like you, Asshole!"
Yuki's cheeks burned pink; he stuck out his tongue.
"Real mature," Kisa shook his dark head and focused his attention back on the still quietly crying Chiaki.
"Shut up, old man!" Yuki seethed.
"Quiet bitches!" The driver growled and silence filled the back of the car once more until Chiaki hesitantly addressed him.
"Suoh-san, will you hold my manga for me while I'm at Hatori-san's? I'd take it with me but I don't want anything to happen to it."
"What'll you give me as a holder's fee Chi-chan?" the driver leered at Chiaki from behind his dark glasses.
"What do you want?" Chiaki asked shyly.
"Blow job."
"Oh, come on, Suoh-san, give the kid a break!" Kisa snapped.
"You offering to stand in for him? 'Cause that's my going rate."
Kisa looked at the boy sitting next to him and then back up at the driver.
"Fine."
"Kisa-san…" Chiaki's tear-stained face became gravely worried.
"Hush," Kisa gruffed and Chiaki fell silent. "Look, Chiaki, wipe your tears. Hatori's not so bad and you need to give him a bright face when he sees you."
Chiaki sniffled at Kisa's kind tone despite the callous words. He wiped his nose with the sleeve of the expensive shirt Matsuo had ordered for him.
Suoh laughed. "Good, glad that's settled. You give better head anyway, Kisa-kun."
"When we get to Shunsuke's stop you can come up front here, and join me. Nothing like a good blow while I'm driving."
After this negotiation concluded, silence reigned in the back seat of the car again.
Hiroki felt nauseous, appalled by all the trouble his offer of a simple comic had caused. The minutes following this seemed to stretch out interminably until at last, Suoh pulled up outside Nowaki's complex.
"Kisa, Shunsuke, out."
Being closer to the door, Kisa exited first. He glanced at Hiroki and gave Hiroki a bored shrug as he readied himself to climb out.
"No hard feelings, Shunsuke-san," Kisa offered as though he'd read Hiroki's thoughts. "Honestly, I don't mind sucking dick." He dropped his voice and whispered, besides, Suoh-san's hardly a mouthful and he never takes very long."
Kisa smiled slightly before exiting the back of the car only to slip around and crawl into the limo's front passenger seat.
Hiroki blushed at this and dropped his eyes as he eased himself out of vehicle. "Thank you again," Shunsuke-san," Chiaki offered, sounding relatively happy again despite the slight waver in his voice.
"No problem," Hiroki growled not meeting Chiaki's gaze. He just couldn't bear those blue eyes again; they reminded him too much of another's.
He was about to step away from the car when Yuki stuck his blond head out the door.
"Hey, this is Kusama's building."
Hiroki didn't like the sly look that filled the blond's eyes. He liked it even less when Yuki's hand darted out and caught his wrist. Before he could pull away, Yuki pulled him down towards him and hissed, "If you see Kusama, pass a message on to him for me."
Something in the youth's jade gaze stopped Hiroki from jerking away. The young whore's expression was downright dangerous.
"I overheard Matsuo-san talking today… You tell Kusama that if he knows at all what's good for him, he'll stay the fuck away from Usami Haruhiko! Usami-sama is mine!
"Got that!"
Hiroki was so stunned by the blond's words, not to mention the venom they'd been spoken with, he found himself unable to move for a minute.
Fortunately Suoh stepped in wrenching Yuki's hand away and gave a none too light smack to the youth's blond crown.
"What did I say about that mouth of yours, Yuki! Get that ass back in the car or you'll be the next one up in the front keeping me company and I guarantee you won't like it!"
Yuki shot Hiroki one last hateful look before slipping back into the limo's dim interior.
Hiroki adjusted the bags he was carrying uncomfortably. He nodded politely at Suoh, before turning to leave.
"See you around Shunsuke-kun," Suoh drawled.
Hiroki hesitated at this and then shook his head slowly. "No, you won't."
"Famous last words," the driver chuckled, "Especially in this world."
Hiroki watched the man amble around to the front of the car and slip in. He stood there gathering himself as he watched the taillights of the limo merge and fade into the late night traffic.
Gazing up at the building where Nowaki was waiting for him, Hiroki drew a deep breath and sought to compose himself.
He was reminded that it shouldn't be all that difficult… After all, he'd managed to keep up a pretense of normalcy all those years with his family, school, and Akihiko the whole time he'd be subjected to Haruhiko's tortures.
Thinking about Haruhiko brought Yuki's words back to him and Hiroki shivered despite himself.
I have to save Nowaki from this life, no matter the cost…
Hiroki exhaled deeply and watched the steam of his breath disappear in to the night. Then he squared his shoulders and straightened his spine as he turned and made his way back to the man he loved.
Okay darlings, per your requests, I'm not holding back. Let the drama continue. Remember, reviews = love.
Disclaimer: I do not own Sekai ichi Hatsukoi or any of its characters.
