Careful Now Chapter 8: The Initials K K, a saezuru tori wa habatakanai/囀る鳥は羽ばたかない fanfic

The actual sex (overheard by Nanahara):

First, Yashiro's face was smothered in the quilt and Doumeki, who couldn't recall the precise moment his erection had re-emerged, drove it into him without a word or sound. Every time Yashiro moaned, Doumeki slammed into him harder and pushed his face further into the mattress.

Next, he pulled Yashiro's hair back so hard and fast his neck hurt. He gasped sharply for the first time in open air.

'Fuck, yes. Ugh! Harder!'

Next, Doumeki squeezed the pale white cheeks between which his cock was barrelling in and out and he caved to the urge to mark the skin. His hand came down hard; several belts in quick succession. Angry hand prints emerged after each cry from Yashiro.

Next, he turned him over, pushed in again at the same moment that he covered Yashiro's mouth with his own, this time biting his bottom lip so hard he tasted blood. Yashiro whimpered into his mouth and tried to angle his face away to catch his breath but Doumeki didn't let up. For long minutes as he fucked Boss, the red, metallic taste swirled and danced around both their tongues. When Doumeki finally pulled up and Yashiro got an eyeful of his bloodstained lips, he knew he was a goner.

'My arm. Twist it again!'

He was hoping Doumeki would tear the sling off but Doumeki almost did one better. He traced his way down Yashiro's abdomen, his fingertips carrying all the deceptive gentleness of a sniffer dog. Then he found the place, the scar from the third gunshot wound. Just as Yashiro caught on to what he was about to do, he pressed the scar as far into his flesh as it would go.

Yashiro screamed and came. Doumeki came silently but just as hard.

The aftermath:

'Boss?' he mumbled in a daze.

(Exit Nanahara)

It was a rerun of the last aftermath. First the recon (shivering body, bleeding lip, damningly red bullet wound) then the immediate self-loathing. Only this time the nausea was stronger. Without another word, he left the room. Breathing hard, Yashiro smiled at the ceiling.

Dr Jekyll and Mr Hyde. Dr Guilt-Ridden-Doting-Bodyguard Jekyll and Mr Reluctant-But-Fantastic-Sadist Hyde. That was probably what the guy originally intended to write, Yashiro decided. Before 19th century English (or whatever) editors censored him.

Doumeki stood in the bathroom for a while. Then he sat on the edge of the bathtub with his head hung for a slightly longer while. He tasted blood.

When he returned, Yashiro was sitting up against the bedhead and smoking, looking entirely at ease. Happy, even. He'd wiped most of the blood off his mouth but the cut was still open and oozing slightly.

'Let me guess. You went and sat on the toilet lid with your head hung?' he said with a smile, propping his face up between his thumb and index finger. 'Can you try not to battle your demons so obviously? It's boring.'

His eyes travelled down the wide expanse of Doumeki's chest, his large arms, balled fists and only half-flaccid cock. Possibly his favourite cock of all time, Yashiro thought. In recent memory, anyway, he amended again.

'I…'

Doumeki stared at a place on the carpet.

'You…?' Yashiro goaded.

'I quit.'

A brief silence.

'Really? Fake resigning so soon after being fake fired?'

'It's… it's not fake.'

Yashiro stretched his legs out and folded them.

'For one thing, I'm sure there's a HR rule somewhere that says you can't be naked when you hand in your official resignation.'

He knew he was dealing with a scared, confused little boy throwing a grown-up tantrum. Swinging Doumeki back around was going to be a no-brainer. But his heart hammered anyway. He had no idea that he was having enough of an effect on the man for him to put his precious job on the line. How wonderful.

'Stop hovering in the doorway. Sit down.'

Doumeki sat on the edge of the bed by his feet. Yashiro swelled his cheeks and blew air out noisily.

'Why do you want to quit?'

Pause.

'I don't want to hurt Boss anymore.'

'I think you do. You should see yourself when you do it. It's like you're inspired.'

No response.

'I like being hurt,' Yashiro said slowly. Masochism 101. He thought about Doumeki's blinding jealousy and rage. 'And I like hurting you.'

He took a drag and blew smoke towards Doumeki but he was too far away for it to reach.

'Don't you want to be hurt by me?'

I want you to do whatever you want to me, Doumeki thought.

Yashiro waited for a response and then sighed.

'You're not quitting. Frankly, that was a lame attempt at even pretending.'

'But –'

'But Boss, I'm a huge pussy and I don't want to hurt you anymore even though it feels like heaven when I'm doing it.' He'd raised the pitch of his voice and nearly stopped to laugh at himself. 'So I'm putting my foot down. Absolutely not. I absolutely quit. Well,' he said, switching back to normal. 'I didn't know you were so eloquent, Doumeki. If you're going to play hardball, maybe there's something I can do to sweeten the deal.'

His words brought Doumeki to the prologue of Time Number 5. He'd said the same thing to Ota in almost the same tone. Doumeki tensed.

'You remember Nakazawa, right?'

His jaw clenched on cue. Yashiro licked a fresh drop of blood off his lip.

'Oh, you don't remember? Gorgeous face, amazing hands, merciless in bed. Let's see… oh, yeah really tall. Taller than you, if I recall. Ringing any bells yet?'

'Yes.' All the hatred he could muster in one syllable.

'He organised the shooting.'

Doumeki looked at him for the first time. Yashiro inclined his head in confirmation.

'Matsubara wants me dead too now. Misumi dug around and found out they joined ranks with Hirata in his evil plot for world domination. But Hirata's lying low after his first attempt at killing me. He's letting Nakazawa and the Matsubara group do the dirty work for a while.'

Doumeki processed. Going up against both Hirata and Matsubara Group was going to be tough. Boss was in more danger than ever. And that bastard Nakazawa. If he ever saw him again, he'd do more this time than just punch him in the jaw.

'Have you ever killed anyone, Doumeki?'

Yashiro's voice was suddenly quiet. Silence slithered into the room in its wake.

Doumeki thought about his father. He remembered how his head had flopped back almost sadly each time he pummelled his fist into it. He remembered letting the body fall like a rag doll to the floor. Dead, he thought. I want you to be dead.

He wasn't, as it turned out. Close but no cigar.

'No.'

'It's a feeling like no other.' Yashiro's eyes had taken on the cold glint of steel. 'You channel every part of you that wants to cause hurt and you focus it into one sharp, lethal little point. What happens after that is beautiful.'

Doumeki held his gaze. For once, he understood the rest of the situation before Yashiro explained it.

'So here's the deal sweetener. I'm a little annoyed at Nakazawa. I've decided to send him and Matsubara a message from their friends at Shinseikai. If you're interested in retaining your job…' He watched Doumeki carefully. 'I'll let you kill him.'

There was a note of fatalism in the air. As soon as Yashiro said it, Doumeki saw himself standing over Nakazawa's corpse. It had already been decided. It had already happened.

'Yes, Boss,' he said anyway.

'Great.' The cigarette was stubbed out on the underside of Doumeki's bedside lamp. 'You drive a hard bargain.'

Less than five minutes later, the unsteady peace they thus reached was completely shattered.

'How are those jam sandwiches coming along?' Yashiro had asked suddenly. It was impossible to tell from his tone that they'd discussed murdering another human being only seconds ago.

So Doumeki had pulled on some underwear and returned to the kitchen like a boomerang. He threw the stale sandwiches into the bin and fished out the last remaining slices from the bread bag. Boss would get the real slices and he would have to make do with the end slices that were really all crust. He didn't mind them.

He was slowly spreading jam into the corners when Yashiro ambled into the kitchen looking for a more convenient ashtray.

'You look good in just underwear,' he said approvingly.

Intuiting what he needed, Doumeki retrieved a shot glass from an overhead cupboard and put it on the countertop. Yashiro tapped some ash into it and kept smoking.

Doumeki caught a glimpse of him out of the corner of his eye and then turned his head fully. He was wearing Doumeki's shirt and nothing else. The shoulders were too wide, sleeves were too long, and the shirt tails only barely covered everything. It was all just very good; somehow even more alluring than when he'd seen him completely naked.

Yashiro basked in his gaze for another moment or two before deciding to destroy the moment. He touched his cheek.

'Oh. Is there come on my face?'

Doumeki turned back to the sandwiches. Yashiro watched his hands.

'Crusts off.'

When Doumeki was done, Yashiro picked up the sandwich from the chopping board and took a large bite.

'Fuck,' he said thickly. 'I don't know if it's because the last time I ate was on a plane or what but this is damn good. Make another one.'

Doumeki felt a disproportionate amount of pride. Yashiro settled on the couch to polish off the sandwich, happily indulging in his sweet tooth.* He glanced again at Wild Sheep Chase on the coffee table.

'I'm staying the night,' he announced over his shoulder.

'Okay.'

'Maybe also start slicing the grapefruit for dessert.'

'Okay.'

The tang of blood suddenly leaked in with the jam. He touched his lip. He remembered how Doumeki had bitten and pulled.

'Where do you keep your Band-Aids?'

'In the drawer in the bathroom. I'll get one for you.'

'I'll get it. Keep those sandwiches coming.'

If Doumeki had insisted on getting him the Band-Aids, it wouldn't have happened.

As Yashiro walked to the bathroom, Doumeki was in a tiny, blissful world that had been created in the aftermath of Yashiro's praise. He remained there for the next thirty seconds as Yashiro glanced at his own reflection in the mirror, enjoying the sight of his swollen lower lip, and then reached for the drawer under the sink.

The moment was simultaneous. In the kitchen, Doumeki's heart leapt to his throat at the same time that Yashiro looked down and saw it.

A contact lens container. Marked with the initials K. K.

Doumeki dropped the knife and ran towards the bathroom. He didn't have to go far. Yashiro stood in front of the bathroom door, fist clenched around the small white case.

His face at that moment scared Doumeki more than anything else he'd ever seen.

Yashiro felt only numb, blinding anger. He took in Doumeki's petrified expression without any satisfaction whatsoever. He wanted him to hurt more.

'Why did you take it?'

The question was simple.

Doumeki didn't answer. He couldn't.

Yashiro tried again, keeping his voice low. Dangerous.

'Why did you take it?'

Because you're in love with him and I hate that you are.

'I... I don't know, Boss.'

Yashiro stared at him for a moment longer. The light, carefree happiness he'd felt not long ago was a distant dream. Reality was suddenly the decades of pent-up longing for one man. The silent prayers. The fear of rejection. The loneliness of a schoolboy crying his eyes out in an empty house.

The first blow was the same as the one in the hotel hallway; an exceptionally strong backhand right across Doumeki's scar.

Doumeki staggered. Then he felt Yashiro's knee collide with his stomach and he fell, winded and gasping, in a heap on the floor.

Another kick to his stomach. He curled in.

And then, before Yashiro could control himself, one to his face. White flashed before Doumeki's eyes and his nose made an awful sound.

Yashiro's eyes were livid. Manic. Humiliated. It was with an immense force of will that he managed to stop himself.

He had forgotten Doumeki completely. He had transformed into the person who, without a second thought, had beaten Nanahara senseless and delivered him to Kageyama's door.

Kageyama.

Throughout it all, Doumeki barely made a sound. He lay at Yashiro's feet and felt blood seep from his nose.

Breathing raggedly, Yashiro found that it disgusted him to look at Doumeki any longer. He stepped over him and headed for the door.

Doumeki lay there for far too long. He then straightened and sat up against the wall and remained there for even longer. Fighting obvious demons.

If he had been more proactive, he would have saved himself a world of grief. As it turned out, Yashiro had sent him a text from the backseat of the cab not long after he left.

Yes, I hate you. I will for a while. No, you're not fired. And you're not quitting. I still want you to kill Nakazawa.

Doumeki read the text a full hour after it had been sent, feeling like he was dreaming. As he dumbly processed it, another text flashed across the screen.

If you ever betray me again, I won't fire you, I will kill you.

Relief flooded his entire body right to his fingertips. And then:

I can't remember the ending of Wild Sheep Chase. Finish it and remind me.

Then, for the very first time since he was a young boy, Doumeki started crying.