It was pouring rain outside. It's been like that all day, but despite that, the mission was a success. All five targets were dead and pieces of them, scattered by Farfarello laid in various dumpsters across Tokyo.
Brad was as cool and calculated as usual, even if the rain soaked him to the bone. Nagi watched him pull the trigger absolutely emotionless, wet locks of black hair on his face, drops of water dripping from them, across his cheek, down to his neck. Nagi was so entranced by the way Brad looked as he coolly walked on the long hallway he gasped.
He could barely obtain himself from touching him. It was bliss just to enter his room and feel the smell of his BOSS cologne. He didn't admit it, not even to himself. While on the streets, abused by so many, he was absolutely sure he couldn't get himself to feel anything for anyone, but yet, Brad, even as a twisted kind of father-figure, made him gasp and made his heart beat faster. It made him enter the bathroom as soon as Brad finished his shower and crawl on the wet floor just to inhale him and clean his traces with his fingers.
Just watching the man's hands, his strong arms, the Rolex on his wrist, it made him touch himself almost every night.
He stood now in his room, clothes still wet, thinking. He had heard Brad used to walk through the Red District, but not for business, but for tolerance houses. And not the ones where women were. Even so, rumors didn't satisfy the boy, and his mind could barely keep the pace with all the thoughts running all around. Sometimes he had the impression that Brad watched him … differently, that the man was, somehow, always next to him in missions.
But it meant nothing, because it could be his imagination and nothing else.
He put his head in his hands.
He was almost determined to try. Disconsider him? Ha!
Brad was just as cold with him as he was with everyone else. Lacking of sleep, Nagi found strength in his dizziness to rise from the edge of the bed and walk to Brad's room.
He opened the door and entered, without asking if he could, as he usually did.
Only one lamp was on, with a light so faded that, at first, he was not sure if he had been seen.
On the edge of the bed stood Brad, without his glasses, rubbing his temples, as if the sound of the rain, tapping on the window would annoy to the edge of pain.
He was just in a pair of jeans, bare-foot, even the Rolex was out of sight. He rose from his bed and Nagi could see he was tired. Running a hand through his hair he asked, with his voice as cool as ever:" What is it, Nagi?"
Nagi wanted to reply, he really did, but nothing came to his mind. Everything went blank. He walked until he came so close to Brad he could almost feel his warm skin, his hair still hot from the bath.
He remembered the first thing he always did when he was paid for it, years ago: he stripped off his jacket and T-shirt, let them fall on the floor, offering what he had to offer, the slender arms, straight shoulders, perfect collarbones his small waist with tight hipbones.
He thought he heard Brad gasp, but the man didn't say anything, and he noticed a fugitive look from him, all over his exposed body and he felt like he skinned him alive.
"What are you doing?" Brad asked.
Nagi found, yet again … no reply. So he went down on his knees, put his hands on Brad's hot waist and kissed his abdomen. Rejection meant nothing now, that he managed to get so close to him. Muscles tensed, and Brad's natural reaction did nothing but arouse the boy more. The man's body was just as he had imagined it, in all those sleepless nights.
Someone else would have stopped him; another man would have pulled him away, but Brad was not "another man", and he did nothing but wait, with his breath increasing, and Nagi felt him wanting to back away, but not doing it. So he unbuttoned his pants.
And his mouth kissed and licked the hard abdomen, and his hands, so cold, went hot on that skin. And he went up and up, his slender fingers on his chest, feeling a heart racing and he almost burst out of happiness that he was not stopped, but, it seemed, welcomed. He kissed neck that bent a bit welcoming the caress, and breathed in his ear, barely touching it, making him shiver slightly.
"You can touch me if you want … "He managed to say and went down again, getting dangerously close to the jeans zipper, when Brad's fingers caught his chin and made him rise closer to his face and his cold eyes searched every inch of skin, the boy's wet lips being, in the end, just to tempting, thus, he kissed him roughly, and Nagi couldn't think about anything else but the fact that he wanted a bruise or some kind of mark to stay there after this contact. A painful mark he could feel every time he talked.
Brad made no other contact but with his mouth, as he removed his fingers from Nagi's chin.
Brad, with only his tongue, played, hurt, warmed, but mostly, he POSSESSED. With only his kiss, Nagi felt he could explode. He gasped, but wasn't let to breathe, and he dared not to back away. Oh God, it was so much, it was almost obscene!
Brad's fingers grabbed his belt and violently pulled him closer, then, with his strong arms, he went up and his small hips touched Brad's.
Kissing, touching, he almost choked on his flesh.
Brad turned him around, and his face touched the white sheet as his neck was bitten violently. He was nothing now; the raven-haired man could model him as he pleased, since it was HIM, and no one else, the sole object of his desire.
Brad was probably the only man in this world he would let hurting him, abuse him and rape him until he would either pass out or die.
He imagined it more tender, but he expected it to be rough. He was kissing his small back, kissing and biting, and made him clutch the sheet tight. Brad's hands were pinning him down, tight on his wrists. The only thing that made him mellow in his hands was the fact that, after he finishes, he would be asked to leave and be, probably, from now on, his personal boy-toy. He shut his eyes tight when he was turned around and bitten by the neck again. To be a toy, but for his man only … then so be it!
He felt him stop a bit, and saw him looking at his scars, the ones he got during missions. His finger traced a long one that went from his ribcage to the belly. He hoped he won't notice it in the dim light. He gently pushed his hand away and rose to welcome him with his mouth again, but he was rigid, as his fingers went down to that place again.
"Where did you get this from?" he demanded.
He couldn't lie; Brad probably knew his every wound from every mission since he was the one that bandaged them. His past was no secret, but still, no one ever mentioned it, and that scar was a part of that past.
"It's what they used to pay me for." He answered, totally honest.
Brad gave no reply to the boy that had his legs around him and hands clutched on the sheet. If he wouldn't use his powers, he could, break him into pieces, so fragile he was.
"Did someone pay you now?" He asked.
Nagi nodded as "no".
Brad bent to him after a couple of seconds, but didn't bite him or roughly pinned him down, but kissed his cheek. Nagi looked at him, but the man got his small face in his hands and kissed his forehead, he smiled kissing the tip of his nose and then his mouth.
Hunger, hunger hunger! That was the only thing he could feel from this man and he refused to believe it could be because wanted him just as much as Nagi wanted him. Unbuttoning his pants and kissing his hipbones, he was so ecstatic he knocked off the lamp and twisted the sheets under his fingers. Brad didn't say anything but continued, and Nagi saw him almost drunk-like, in the city lights, with the rain tapping on the windows.
In the end, there was nothing else left, but the muffled sound of his gasps, Brad's hot breathe in his neck and the overwhelming touch if his skin on the man's. It hurt him but he accepted it, along with his bruising kisses that caused him a painful pleasure.
Finally having Brad inside of him, his deep moans in his ear, it felt empty when he finished and backed away. He said nothing, but let him be, and stood for a while just looking at his back, tracing with his eyes the arch of his back and the rest of his body, profiled from under the white sheet. He heard only his own breath and the rain. His tongue touched his lip, and felt the metallic taste of blood. A small stain on the pillow showed it was a wound from earlier and he wished for it to bleed forever.
"Do you want me to leave?" he asked, curled under the sheet at what it seemed, miles away from Brad.
"Do whatever you want" he got a reply. Cold. Calculated. Deep.
Nagi stood motionless for a moment, and then came closer and put his arm around Brad and his forehead on his back. He needed to feel him one last time. Not too much because he will be pushed away, and he rather preferred to back away himself than be pushed away.
He kissed the man's shoulder and rose from the bed, put his pants on and collected his jacket and shirt, heading for the door.
"I don't want much … sir … I just want you." He managed to say, and felt his throat go sore, unable to get anything else out. He exited Brad's room and entered his, crouching on the floor with his back on the door. He waited, but no sound was heard, no door opening or knocks on his own.
The rain tapped a steady tattoo on the windows and on the street. His lip was still bleeding.
He wanted it to bleed forever.
Owari