Ship: Menteeshipping (Duke Devlin/Otogi Ryuuji x 'Ghost' Katsuzuka/Bonz)

'Menteeshipping' because Otogi looked up to Pegasus as though Pegasus were his mentor, and because Katsuzuka was literally Bandit Keith's mentee (until Bandit Keith was a dick and turned on him).

Also, this chapter features a Yakuza AU, strong dom/sub themes, and very mild dubious consent. Also also, smut. So yeah. There's that. I'm always ready to write smut, so don't be afraid to request some. ;P I'm also trying my hand at an obviously Japanese setting + honorifics, so tell me how I'm doing with that, if you don't mind 3

Deal With The Devil

Running a macabre novelties shop on this side of town? Difficult.

Running a macabre novelties shop while also under the thumb of the Otogi syndicate of the yakuza? Incredibly difficult.

'Ghost' Kotsuzuka worried a dry, pale lip between his teeth when he saw the men walk in. "H-Hello," he greeted, blinked rapidly at the two musclemen that towered over his stacks of occult books and grotesquely refurbished anatomical models. They didn't respond. They never did. The dead probably spoke more than they did.

Kotsuzuka drummed his fingers on the countertop. The two brutes parted, stepping down different isles to prowl their way to him. The maneuver made visible Otogi Ryuuji, their boss and the young heir to the Otogi syndicate.

Kotsuzuka gulped dryly. Otogi was much more intimidating than his two henchmen could ever hope to be, combined. Maybe because if Otogi so much as cocked his head the right way, Kotsuzuka would drop off the face of the earth and not even the news would comment on his disappearance. It would be like he never even existed.

Otogi was perusing down the aisle, looking at the merchandise with cocked eyebrows, pursed lips, and curious hands. His interest in the products always looked genuine, but he never purchased anything. Probably because he was normally here for a very, very different reason. He picked up a book – a compendium of vampire lore collected from all over the world – and thumbed through it. His soft leather riding gloves rasped audibly across the pages. He hummed and set it back onto the shelf.

Kotsuzuka barely resisted the urge to whittle at his nails with his teeth while he awaited Otogi's arrival at the front counter.

That's probably why Otogi did his slow browsing of the merchandise – to get Kotsuzuka's nerves to an unbearable forte.

The bastard.

Eventually, after an eternity, Otogi was ambling up to the front desk, his hands tucked languidly in the pockets of his dark jeans. It looked like he had ridden there on his motorcycle that day, what with the gloves and the leather vest and the long, thick pants, despite the balmy summer heat. His lackeys had no doubt followed behind in one of those nondescript SUVs.

"Uh, h-hello," Kotsuzuka repeated. "How can I help you today, Otogi-sama?" His voice trembled in his throat, but it luckily didn't crack again.

He knew the answer to the question before Otogi even opened his mouth. "Why, Zuka-kun, I just came to check on my favorite client."

Kotsuzuka's lip twitched. Client implied that the interaction was mutual.

"It seems you have a pending payment yet to be fulfilled," Otogi said, a dangerous, lilting singsong as he traced a long finger along a crack on the countertop. He stared down at Kotsuzuka through his long black lashes. "Another one, I should say. They're adding up, Zuka-kun. I'm getting rather worried."

Kotsuzuka could feel the sweat beading up along his hairline. "Business has been rough lately. Customers have been scarce, and the ones that come in only do so to gawk at the merchandise." And me. They gawk at me, too. "They don't often purchase anything…" he trailed off, gulping as he watched Otogi's unchanging face. Those vivid green eyes seemed so cold, so hard. Dread crawled up Kotsuzuka's spine. His next words were a croak. "I could barely make rent this month."

Otogi's head tilted to the side, just a bit, but it was enough to make his dark, silky hair slide off his shoulder. Still, his expression remained static. He said nothing.

Kotsuzuka averted his eyes, pressed his hands to his face, bony elbows digging into the countertop. "You probably hear that a lot," he whispered. He didn't even have the energy to beg, plead for more time to collect the money.

He couldn't even say that his money was wasted when he paid the yakuza. This wasn't necessarily the nicest neighborhood, and the Otogi syndicate did a good job of keeping the streets clean of any petty thugs that might harass the shops, and, upon the instance that he did get harassed that one time, the Otogi syndicate was quick to eliminate the problem. It was like… gang insurance.

But they weren't known for being lenient when payment wasn't being given. The senior Otogi – Mister Clown, as they called him – made sure of it.

He sighed, wetly, on the verge of tears. He hid them behind his hands. He had to at least try to preserve the thinning shreds of his dying dignity. "I understand if you have to use other means to collect payment, Otogi-sama." He strained hard to keep the wobble out of his voice. "I… have some antiques from my parents if you must." Then, he failed, cracking and dipping into the deeper tones of someone who was about to sob. "You could sell them."

"You didn't think to sell them yourself?" Otogi asked quietly.

Kotsuzuka's breath was sharp. "L-Last resort. Didn't want to if I didn't have to." All his family members had died and left him behind, his grandparents, his parents. All that remained of them were their former belongings. Maybe he was just too intensely sentimental with the way he clung to the last decrepit scraps of their memory.

Otogi hummed. Kotsuzuka couldn't bear to move his hands away from his face, much less look at the man standing over him.

"But if that doesn't cover it…" A shuddering inhale. "I understand if you have other steps you must take."

Kotsuzuka didn't feel like he had much to live for anymore, anyways. His friends had long since turned into common thugs and were probably off somewhere committing crimes, in prison, or extinguished by the yakuza. His parents were long since dead. Except for extended family he had never even met before, he had no other living relatives.

No one would miss him, he suddenly realized. No one would miss him if Otogi just made him… disappear.

Very few people would even notice that his shop closed, and those that did would only do so with a fleeting curiosity.

Kotsuzuka was good at somehow surviving anything that was thrown at him despite all the odds, but he wasn't so sure he could get past this.

"Kotsuzuka-san," Otogi's voice came, steady and quiet, that teasing lilt gone. "Kotsuzuka-san, look at me." Firm, brooking no protest.

He could only peer between his fingers. Otogi had leaned down over him, his leather-clad shoulders outlined softly in the dim light of the shop.

"Move your hands, completely," Otogi commanded. His voice was solid as stone and just as irresistible. "Show me your face."

Kotsuzuka's hands dropped to the countertop. The air chilled the tears trickling down his cheeks. Those vivid green eyes cut through him, deeper than the intense but otherwise unreadable expression.

"Stop crying," he said, and though his tone was stern, it was not harsh – as if he were reprimanding a child.

Kotsuzuka bit his lip and nodded.

"I will be back tomorrow and—"

"—You'll want the money?" Kotsuzuka croaked.

"Do not interrupt me," Otogi snapped.

Kotsuzuka jolted deep to his core and tilted his chin down.

"Look at me," Otogi reminded sharply. A tug deep in his gut compelled Kotsuzuka to obey. "I will return tomorrow, right before the shop closes. I will give you an alternative to paying off your debt. If you answer no, I want the money by Monday. Is this clear?"

Kotsuzuka nodded shakily, his eyes never leaving the unblemished planes of Otogi's face. "Yes, I understand, Otogi-sama."

"Good," and Otogi straightened, his one dangling earring glinting in the dim light. "I'll be seeing you then, Zuka-kun," he purred. His hand trailed on the countertop before he turned on his heel and strutted down the main aisle and back to the shop door.

Kotsuzuka blinked. The two henchmen were already gone, sometime during their conversation, perhaps. His sigh hitched wetly in his throat and he scrubbed his face with one shaking hand. At least he embarrassed himself in front of only Otogi (although if he had to choose, he would pick crying in front of the henchmen than one of the head honchos, especially someone as dignified and… suave as Otogi).

He couldn't stop quivering with anxiety in his chair, and when customers came in, his shaky smile seemed to be even more disturbing than normal, and they were hasty to leave each time. Kotsuzuka would curse himself afterward. He couldn't help that he looked like a little creep. It was a glandular problem, not something of his own choice or design.

He sighed and pillowed his forehead in his hands.

What was he going to do?

What was Otogi going to do?

He wasn't so sure he wanted to know, but tomorrow was too close, and he would find out whether he liked it or not.

Fortunately for him, he already took strong medication for his insomnia, because if it weren't for that, there was no doubt that he wouldn't have found sleep that night.


The nerves were overwhelming. Kotsuzuka ended up wiping down the entire shop three times. Before noon. Time raced by, nonetheless. He spent the afternoon dusting even more, adjusting things to the slightest centimeter on the shelves, organizing his messy desk, and constantly reloading his email on the beat-up old CRT computer in the back.

He did get two emails for online orders, which was cool. More money was exactly what he needed.

The two hours before closing dragged along with all the grace of a shambling corpse. He'd swear he'd look at the clock fifteen minutes later, but the minute hand hadn't moved the slightest. Several times he compared it to the electronic clock on his cash register and on the computer, and each time he would sigh and press a hand to his face.

The clock was right. Time was just slow as molasses.

Then, it was just a minute before official closing, and Kotsuzuka figured he might as well start closing. He turned off the customized 'open' sign that glowed sinisterly in the window, and he was opening the front door to flip the door sign when he heard it.

The roaring of a motorcycle tore through the peaceful penumbra of dusk. Kotsuzuka raised an arm to keep the single headlight from outright blinding him. The bike banked into the small alley just next to the shop.

Kotsuzuka already knew who it was.

He waited at the door, head respectfully bowed as the engine cut and the sound of boots thumping on pavement echoed down the alleyway.

"Ah, Zuka-kun. So very polite. Thank you," Otogi said, with his usual simpering sweet tone, and one hand rested for just a moment on Kotsuzuka's frail shoulder before it was dragging across his chest as Otogi entered the shop.

Kotsuzuka followed him, let the door swing shut. The little bell above it rang, and though that bell ordinarily sounded dull and dim, here and now it sounded sharp and clear. Kotsuzuka nearly jumped out of his skin at the sound of it.

Otogi looked over his shoulder back at Kotsuzuka, his green eyes glinting in the dim and his abyssal hair slithering over his leather vest at the movement.

Kotsuzuka gulped, his back against the shop door.

Most of the lights inside the shop were off – only the one deep inside by the office was lit, and the streetlamps outside leaked in through the front windows. It made it dim, and in the shadows, with his glinting eyes and lean figure, Otogi Ryuuji looked like an animal looming in the dark waiting for his prey.

Kotsuzuka shuffled from one foot to the other a few times before he worked up the courage to continue through the shop. He edged by Otogi in the narrow isle. Otogi's scent – leather and wind and something reminiscent of exotic spices – inundated him for that short moment that they were inches from one another. He held his breath, hoping to keep a creeping warmth from spreading from his lungs, and continued to the back office. Down the hall was a door, behind which crouched a staircase leading to his living quarters above. He felt especially vulnerable, with Otogi stepping ever nearer to his home and sanctuary. He ducked into the office, and Otogi's boots clicked after him.

There was only one small chair behind the once-cluttered desk, but there was a stool that he used for the higher shelves stored in the corner. He hastily moved it to set in front of the desk. He blinked when he heard the creaking of the ratty old office chair. Otogi was already settling down in it, one elbow on the battered armrest, his knuckles posed lightly against his high cheekbone.

Kotsuzuka, speechless, stared down at him.

Otogi languidly gestured forward, crossed one leg over the other. "Take a seat, Zuka-kun," playful, but firm. There was no room for refusal.

So Kotsuzuka perched on the stool in front of his own desk, which was now commandeered by the son of an influential crime boss.

What was his life coming to?

He sighed, hooked his feet around the legs of the stool.

Otogi's face was impassive. It didn't calm Kotsuzuka any. His father had always said that the dog without a bark had the fiercest bite.

Green eyes blinked slowly, and Otogi's head tilted just so. Kotsuzuka chewed his lip. He was used to being stared at, but Otogi… Otogi observed, analyzed.

A short hum. "You never did greet me, Zuka-kun."

"O-Oh. Sorry, Otogi-sama," he choked. "Hello, Otogi-sama. It's… good to see you again."

The smallest of smiles tugged at the corners of Otogi's lips. Wry, clever.

"It's good to see you, too, Zuka-kun. How was business today?" he asked off-handedly. One of his slender, gloved hands reached forward to absently push and roll a cheap black pen on the desktop.

"It, uh, it was slow," Kotsuzuka replied, watched Otogi pick up the pen and twirl it on his knuckles. A cold sweat beaded up on the back of his neck and made the small hairs prickle and itch. "I did get some online orders, though. I called the delivery company to come pick the boxes up." The words were just spilling out – Kotsuzuka was babbling nervously. "They came to get them a couple hours ago. No physical customers bought anything, though."

Otogi nodded, slow, seemingly thoughtful. "Any little bit helps."

"Yeah," Kotsuzuka croaked.

Those green eyes were still on his face. It made his cheeks hot, and he pulled at the collar of his shirt a little.

When was he going to just cut to the chase?

But Otogi continued to sit there in silence and stare at him. Kotsuzuka stared up at the dusty ceiling nervously. He'd have to clean up there soon. It could have been seconds, or even minutes that went by, because it seemed like an eternity to Kotsuzuka.

He finally lowered his eyes, stared just off Otogi's leather-clad shoulder to the cracked drywall behind him. "So… uh… you wanted to… discuss something with me?"

Another hum. "Yes, I did. You have quite the outstanding debt, Zuka-kun."

Kotsuzuka frowned to himself. He was only three months behind, including this month… But he supposed the yakuza wasn't particularly known for its debt forgiveness… But three months' worth of 'payments'? He wasn't sure he could sell enough of anything – merchandise, family heirlooms, anything – to be able to pay it all off by the beginning of next week.

"I… will not be able to have the money by Monday," he whispered, frowning, staring at the edge of the desk where the plastic veneer was wearing away to reveal the particle board underneath.

"Not even by liquidating your assets?" Otogi asked, fingers drumming once on the desk surface.

Kotsuzuka shook his head. "People don't want my merchandise, and I don't think my family heirlooms are worth enough." He chuckled deprecatingly to himself, scrubbed a hand down his cheek. Any other person could even resort to prostitution… but he knew his ghoulish bad looks would scare away even that type of customer. After all, people would hardly want to deal with him for free, much less if they had to pay for it.

Otogi's head tilted again, to the other side, as if to scrutinize him from a new angle. Kotsuzuka wondered what he saw. Another godforsaken hum.

Otogi straightened from his reclined position, leaned his elbows on the desktop. His gloved fingers twined together. His mouth was hidden behind his knuckles. It drew Kotsuzuka's attention to those jewel-like green eyes. Another slow blink, thick black lashes lowering and lifting like a single stroke from a butterfly's wings. "That leaves you three choices."

Kotsuzuka gulped. That was one more than he had originally thought.

"One; try to obtain the money by Monday. You already said you weren't sure you could. Which means that you might pull it off by the skin of your teeth or you will face the consequences of your outstanding debt. That brings us to your second option – do nothing, try nothing, and simply accept the consequences of your outstanding debt when the time comes." Those eyes narrowed. The green was bright but there was a darkness there, and Kotsuzuka shuddered. The consequences… death, or perhaps worse than that – made an example of in some manner – do not stiff the Otogi syndicate.

"And the third…?" Kotsuzuka whispered, pressing his fingertips into his temple, perhaps with enough force to bruise, though he didn't feel it in his chasm of emotional turmoil.

"Accept my offer, and all your debts will be absolved. Tonight," he said, a low, purring rumble.

Kotsuzuka tugged at his collar absently. "Tonight…?" he echoed. What could he possibly do tonight that would be worth that much…?

The desk chair creaked as Otogi stood. "Yes, tonight. I can see the confusion on your face, Zuka-kun." He ambled around the edge of the desk until he was in front of Kotsuzuka. He leaned back on the surface; his palms braced on the edge. "You see, there is something you can give me, something very valuable…"

Kotsuzuka's eyebrows furrowed and lifted, his lips parted as he stared up into those verdant eyes.

Otogi leaned forward, a hand reaching out, his gloved fingers brushing under Kotsuzuka's chin and lifting his head up. "… You."

"What?" Kotsuzuka breathed, disbelieving, blinking widely.

Otogi's shoulders hunched forward, curled over Kotsuzuka, whose spine curved with the gentle force of a leather-clad hand on his jaw. "You, your body, under my control, for one night." His other hand came down on the back edge of the stool. Kotsuzuka was caged in, trapped in Otogi's heat, in his scent – leather and wind and spice. Otogi's face was so close – Kotsuzuka could see in explicit detail the lurid bluish ripples in his irises, could feel the gentle breeze of his breath on his cheek. "You, bound by my words, and my words, law." His hand tightened, and leather dug in on either side of Kotsuzuka's jaw. "You will do what I say and when. I will touch you and do to you as I please." Closer, and his abyssal hair was brushing Kotsuzuka's shoulder, his neck, making him shiver.

Kotsuzuka felt his breaths passing in and out of his lungs in hot, fast gusts.

This… had to be a dream.

He's always found Otogi Ryuuji to be very attractive, yes, but he never entertained the thought of reciprocation – it was just so unbelievably unrealistic that he never bothered to imagine it beyond a single passing thought a couple of years ago, when he first met the young crime boss.

And now…

He wanted to question it. All of it – why would Otogi extend this offer to Kotsuzuka, of all people. It seemed… too good to be true.

On the other hand, it seemed to lend greater meaning to this encounter. Out of all the people that would gladly accept an offer for an… encounter with Otogi, he picked Kotsuzuka.

Otogi's lip curled into a smirk. "You seem receptive, Zuka-kun." He tilted his head just so, and his nose brushed along Kotsuzuka's. "Very good."

"Why me?" Kotsuzuka breathed.

"I don't think you're in any position to question me," Otogi hissed, hand tightening again (Kotsuzuka could feel Otogi's nails through the soft leather), and Kotsuzuka could taste his words on his tongue. "The next words out of your mouth will be either ones of acceptance or ones of refusal."

Kotsuzuka's lips trembled as he tried to catch his breath.

The offer was titillating – there was no doubt to that – but a deep dread coiled low in his stomach. Otogi could do anything to him – anything – and Kotsuzuka wasn't even sure what anything entailed.

What if he just wanted Kotsuzuka to dress up in an embarrassing dog suit and crawl around on his hands and knees all night? (He had, in fact, heard that Otogi demanded that of a young man who had lost a bet to him.)

What if this was all a seductive ploy to get Kotsuzuka to agree, and Otogi will simply use the night to humiliate him, to put him in his place? As he seemed to be so fond of doing…

But even then, would he rather possibly die? Or face a fate worse than death?

He sighed tightly, leaned into the grip on his chin and jaw. "Yes, I accept, Otogi-sama."

Otogi had a smirk like a jackal. "Good, Zuka-kun." He released him, and Kotsuzuka had to scramble to regain balance on the stool. The rasp of a zipper along its teeth cut through the thick air; Otogi was taking his vest off. "Where shall we start…" He draped the leather across the desk, and then he was leaning closer again, lips close to Kotsuzuka's ear. "… Zuka-kun?"


Kotsuzuka kept his living space well-organized, even though he didn't have many possessions to keep organized. His belongings seemed to be even more sparse and drab with Otogi standing in their midst.

Otogi lifted his foot as he stood in the genkan. The command was unspoken, but Kotsuzuka crouched nonetheless, carefully plucked at the laces on expensive patent leather and wiggled the boot off once it was loose enough. He did the same for the next boot. He set them aside neatly, tucked the laces inside to keep them off the floor and out of the way.

The floor creaked as Otogi walked further into the apartment. Despite the traditional entryway, the rest of the space was widely open, studio-style, with only a few closets, a pantry, and a bathroom set separately from the rest of the room. Thankfully, he had cleaned thoroughly before opening the store – the bed was made, his dirty clothes deposited into the hamper, all the dishes cleaned and put away. There weren't many furnishings, but they were all clear of dust and grime and all the objects stored on them were neat and organized.

Kotsuzuka hurried to take off his shoes, and when he was finally stepping up from the genkan, Otogi was looking over his shoulder at him.

"I would like a glass of water, Zuka-kun."

Kotsuzuka bowed his head. "Yes, Otogi-sama." He scuttled to the kitchen. None of his glasses or cups matched – they were all hand-me-downs and novelty items that now made a haphazard collection in his cupboards. Stepping up on his stepping stool, he took down a single glass, a clear one in the shape of an elongated shelf.

"Get one for yourself, too, Zuka-kun," Otogi continued.

A white mug – when heated, it turned blood red. Unfortunately, the water in the filtered pitcher in his fridge was far too cold to see the effects. He turned away from the sink.

Otogi was perched in one of the few armchairs. It had ripped upholstery, but it was by the far the most comfortable of all three. It was posed right next to a small side-table. The sci-fi thriller book Kotsuzuka had been reading for the past week was still on it. Otogi was peering at it curiously but hadn't yet taken the liberty to pick it up and examine it more closely.

"Here, Otogi-sama," Kotsuzuka said quietly, held out the skull glass.

Otogi arched an amused brow but accepted it. "Sit down, Zuka-kun." He languidly gestured to the chair just across from his own. Between the two was a simple glass coffee table.

The soft cushions felt wonderful to his tense body, but with those lurid green eyes watching him, he couldn't bear to relax back into the chair. The water, however, felt wonderful to his dry mouth.

Otogi was enjoying his drink in silence, and Kotsuzuka was trying his best not to stare at him.

Was this it? Did Otogi just want him to wait on him hand-and-foot? Kotsuzuka hid his frown behind the rim of his mug. He probably had people waiting on him all the time – people to take his shoes off, get his water.

What had happened to that heady tension in the office downstairs?

Kotsuzuka sighed silently. He tried not to feel too disappointed. This was probably for the best. He pressed a hand to his forehead. He was stupid to think that Otogi would want him.

No one wanted him.

With his glass just under half-empty, he carefully set it on the coffee table. The clinking of ceramics on glass echoed sharply in the oppressive silence.

Those green eyes were still observing him, and he made a small show of picking at the peeling pleather on the chair's arm. "Is there anything else you want, Otogi-sama?"

Otogi hummed, set his glass down, too. Kotsuzuka looked at him. He was back to reclining, languid and poised. He made that beat-up armchair seem like a goddamn throne.

Those green eyes stared at Kotsuzuka with enough intensity to make him feel skewered in place.

"Strip for me, Zuka-kun," he purred, cheek propped on his knuckle and elbow pressed to the arm of the chair.

Kotsuzuka would have choked on his water if he had taken another sip of it.

"Otogi-sama –"

"Hm, no. No questions, no responses. Only a 'yes, sir' or a 'yes, Otogi-sama.' Understand, Zuka-kun?" Sharp, concise.

Kotsuzuka bowed his head. "Yes, Otogi-sama." His heart, once settling, now began to flutter in his chest like a panicked hummingbird. He stood slowly, hands shaking as he lifted his hand to the neatly tied hood strings sitting just under his throat. "Here, Otogi-sama?"

"Yes, Zuka-kun, right here," Otogi murmured in response.

A tremulous exhale. With but a tug, the knot was undone. He edged the hem up, pried the hoodie up, and when his head and wild crop of hair was through, he set the hoodie on the arm of the chair behind him. He had a plain white undershirt on, and he bit his lip as he plucked at the material. He looked up through his lashes.

Green eyes were locked onto him, long gloved fingers absently tracing the rim of the glass. He gulped, but pulled the undershirt off, too.

He crossed his arms over his bony chest, hugged himself. Goosebumps rippled across his skin, from the chill, from his nerves, from the heat bubbling up under his ribs and in his belly.

"Ah-ah-ah," Otogi clucked, leaning forward again, glossy hair slipping and slithering and hanging in gentle waves.

Kotsuzuka lowered his arms, dropped his hands to the button on his shorts. He pushed his socks off with the opposite foot, then popped the button open. The zipper seemed loud in the quiet dim of his apartment. He pushed the shorts off his slim hips. He was just in his underwear now.

"That's good," Otogi breathed. "Come here, Zuka-kun."

Kotsuzuka shuffled closer, his bare feet padding quietly on the laminate flooring. When he was close enough, Otogi's leather-clad hand caught him around the hip, just above the waistband of his briefs. The gloves were slightly cold and damp from Otogi's glass. He shivered, but didn't resist when Otogi tugged him close, close, closer, pulling him until he was reeling and catching himself on the arms of the chair, one knee propped on the cushion between both of Otogi's legs.

"Arms behind your back, Zuka-kun," Otogi commanded, and his breath gusted against Kotsuzuka's sternum.

Kotsuzuka obeyed, arching his back to prevent himself from falling right over the man before him. Otogi grasped both of his tiny wrists in one hand, pressed them closer to the small of his back, and it curled him forward.

His face felt hot with a torrid blush at being presented so… lewdly.

Otogi hummed again, and Kotsuzuka was close enough to feel it vibrate through him, to his bones and his belly that was tingling with warmth. He gasped lightly as Otogi's other hand settled just beneath his collarbone. Otogi was a tall man, and, as such, had big hands, big hands that seemed even bigger on Kotsuzuka's petite frame.

That big hand trailing over his chest, to his stomach, the soft leather tickling him all the while, made him melt with a soft moan.

"Receptive," Otogi murmured. "You like being touched, don't you?"

He could only nod as he fought the urge to pant like a dog in heat.

That didn't seem to please Otogi – he jerked Kotsuzuka closer by his wrists on his back. "Don't you, Zuka-kun?" The other hand grasped at his waist and stroked up to his ribs firmly.

"Y-Yes, Otogi-sama," he whimpered.

"Mm, wonderful." His thumb brushed over a pebbled nipple, and Kotsuzuka jolted in his arms with a gasp. "Sensitive, too." His chuckle was a rumbling, bestial thing. "We're going to have so much fun, Zuka-kun." He leaned forward, and then a hot tongue was lapping at Kotsuzuka's nipple, teasing the sensitive flesh with nudges and swirls and lewd licks.

Kotsuzuka bit his lip, stifled his whimpers with hiccups and chokes, and curled his fingers into tight fists.

Oh god, good. It was good.

And that mouth was gone, leaving damp flesh behind, and a thumb was suddenly digging into his lip, prying it from between his teeth. Otogi's hot, damp breath clouded on Kotsuzuka's jaw. "None of that. I will hear you."

Kotsuzuka closed his eyes and panted against that thumb. "Y-Yes, Otogi-s-sama."

Another purr, a tongue swiping just under his chin (he gasped), and then those lips were back on his chest, laving attention on Kotsuzuka's other nipple. He panted and mewled freely, his cheeks hot with embarrassment and growing arousal.

He'd never been touched like this…

"Otogi-sama," he whimpered when his nipple was teased with such incredible suction. Gentle, but strong, enough to make him writhe. Otogi's other hand was now holding his hip again, his thumb stroking over the bone with soft, teasing passes. "Otogi-sama…"

Otogi suddenly pulled back and released Kotsuzuka's wrists. Unsupported, Kotsuzuka scrambled for purchase on the chair arms. Panting, he looked down at Otogi. Those green eyes were dilated, nearly swallowed whole by the dark of the pupils, and those thin-but-shapely lips were swollen and glistening. His pink tongue flicked out, traced the curve of his lower lip. Kotsuzuka gulped at the sight of it.

Otogi's breath huffed out gently, and he reached for one of Kotsuzuka's wrists. Kotsuzuka put up little resistance and let Otogi move him, guide him down, down past Otogi's belt to the front of his dark jeans. Kotsuzuka had hardly touched him before he was palming Otogi eagerly through his pants.

"Otogi-sama," he breathed. Otogi was hot, hard beneath those jeans.

Otogi's breath caught – just barely audible – and his hips hitched up ever so slightly into Kotsuzuka's touch. "Eager, are we, Zuka-kun?"

Kotsuzuka closed his eyes against the breath now puffing against his sensitized neck. Otogi was awaiting a response. "Yes, Otogi-sama."

A gloved hand was sinking into Kotsuzuka's hair and fisting tight. The tension on his scalp made Kotsuzuka whimper and stroke faster over denim. Teeth flashed against his vulnerable neck. "Have you ever sucked dick before, Zuka-kun?" Otogi's growl made his nerves tingle in his neck all the way to his ears.

"N-No, Otogi-sama," he whispered brokenly. He'd never even been kissed before.

Suddenly, Otogi was standing, and he set Kotsuzuka on his feet. "Get a pillow."

Kotsuzuka's knees were wobbly, but he managed to step away without tipping right over. "Yes, Otogi-sama."

He grabbed the nearest one off his bed. It was thin and lumpy from what was probably too many years of use, but he was sure it would do. He walked about as gracefully as a newborn fawn back to Otogi, and he presented the pillow.

"Put it on the floor at my feet."

Kotsuzuka obeyed.

"Now kneel on it. Facing me."

… Kotsuzuka obeyed. Otogi seemed to look good from any angle, but this one made Kotsuzuka tingle all over. He panted, chin tilted up, awaiting further instruction.

Otogi was working his belt off, and though his face seemed composed, his hands trembled visibly. Unbuttoned, unzipped, he pushed his dark jeans down.

Kotsuzuka gasped at the sight before him. Flushed, thick, veins bulging, head glistening. Otogi's scent was stronger here, muskier, more masculine. It made Kotsuzuka's thighs tremble and his mouth water. Otogi's hand was in his hair, tangling in the messy black locks and tugging him in closer until that hot, velvety flesh was sliding wetly along the seam of Kotsuzuka's lips. "Suck it, Zuka-kun."

"Yes, Otogi-sama," he whispered, and he lifted his shaking hands to gently cup him, to reverently stroke. Hot, pulsing, and Otogi's hips jolted minutely into each stroke.

Kotsuzuka let loose an aroused huff, and Otogi hissed. Kotsuzuka let his tongue stroke past parted lips, licked the salty wetness. He moaned, felt it twitch ever so slightly in his hands. Just the tip then, into his mouth, cushioned on his tongue. It was hot and heavy.

"Careful with the teeth," Otogi murmured, breathless, hand tightening just a tad in Kotsuzuka's hair.

Kotsuzuka hummed, rolled his lips over his teeth.

He licked, sucked, tried his damnedest, and Otogi guided him with hushed words harsh with pleasure and tugs on his hair that made arousal rush through him. Soon enough, Otogi's hips were rolling, fucking Kotsuzuka's face with languid motions as he stroked what he couldn't fit in his mouth. Otogi was panting, growling, his scent growing stronger as he sweated with ecstasy.

"You learn fast, Zuka-kun," he panted, hitching a little faster.

Kotsuzuka whimpered. He was hot all over, his skin glistening, a heavy ache building higher and higher between his legs. He gave up stroking, weakly grasped at Otogi's hips and focused on his tongue, on his suction, on making the sexiest sounds come out of Otogi's lips. He didn't expect to enjoy himself so much, but there he was, desperately sucking Otogi's cock and squirming with the need to touch himself.

Both of Otogi's hands were tangled in his hair, and they squeezed and tugged and made him want to melt into the floor. Passion tinged the edge of each little pull, in the hastening pace of Otogi's hips. He was getting close, and Kotsuzuka eagerly tongued at the flesh in his mouth. His hands scrabbled as Otogi got rougher, his treatment borderline painful, and his fingers sank into Otogi's powerful, flexing thighs.

"Z-Zuka-kun," Otogi hissed. "I'm going to come."

Kotsuzuka mewled and sucked harder. Lewd, wet noises filled the room, a sinful accompaniment to the panting, the moaning, the growling. Kotsuzuka had never heard anything like it, never heard such sounds that made him so dizzy with lust.

"C-Coming!" Otogi groaned, and he burst in Kotsuzuka's mouth, filled it to the brim and then some, dripping hot and wet and thick down his spit-slicked chin. He could hardly swallow what he had in his mouth, and he choked slightly.

He was tugged off Otogi, and then suddenly yanked up by his hair into Otogi's arms. All he could see were those burning green eyes and a lustful, crazed snarl before his eyes were rolling into the back of his head; Otogi's hand was on him, palming him roughly through his underwear and then stroking harshly. It was mere seconds before he reached climax, bucking and moaning wildly in Otogi's grasp.

Shivering and shuddering, he hardly noticed that Otogi had picked him up until he was tossed roughly onto the bed. But he didn't have the time or the mind to complain when Otogi was prying his legs open and pushing his hips between them.

Hot lips were teething fiercely at his ear. "As wonderful as that was, Zuka-kun, your debt isn't paid in full yet. I require more of you."

Kotsuzuka arched himself in blatant invitation.

"Yes, Otogi-sama."

THE END

That ended up being much longer than I expected. Anyways, tell me what you liked, what you didn't like, etc. I left Otogi's feelings and intentions pretty ambiguous on purpose. (Also, he's a lot taller than I thought…? I wouldn't have guessed him any taller than 5'7" but he's apparently 5'11"...? Damn.)

Next Ship: Constitutionshipping (Yugi Mutou x Rebecca Hawkins | Rebecca Hopkins x Mahad)