Setting: Doumeki's hospital room

Cast: Doumeki

Train of thought: Boss

He found out that dreams concocted by pain, medication, sexual frustration and emotional shock were bizarre ones indeed.

(Pain from the bullet wounds, medication for the bullet wounds, sexual frustration from having been inside Boss but not having been able to come, and emotional shock from… from something he was still struggling to process.)

Some of these dreams started off fairly self-explanatory. Dream 1 was about his father raping his sister. But of course, his father was actually him. He waited for his sister to turn into Yashiro beneath him but she didn't. He then looked up to see Yashiro leaning against the doorframe. Don't mind me, he said. You two finish up first.

He woke from this dream into Dream 2 where Yashiro was sitting naked on the armchair in the hospital room. He'd thought it was real and even felt the blood rush to his cock. Yashiro was jerking himself off slowly and he said, Wish I'd seen how they turned you into that. It seemed realistic enough. And then Doumeki noticed Yashiro was using his right hand.

The following night, Dream 3 was about birds. Little black sparrows and large owls with baleful eyes. The sparrows were everywhere, on Doumeki's head and arms and legs, one of them pecking insistently at his thigh. Nearby, a gold-feathered owl perched regally on Yashiro's shoulder, not that he seemed to mind. Doumeki wished the little black one would stop pecking him so hard. Why the thigh? He held the lighter flame for Yashiro's cigarette and heard Yashiro's thoughts clearly in his ear. He was mildly pleased to note that he could finally read Boss' mind. He listened for a long time.

The doctors said he was recovering well. At first, they were worried that the medication was having an unforeseen side-effect on his speech. They eventually understood he was just a man of few words. Almost no words.

It took him a day to be well enough to leave the bed. He felt his way around the room slowly, pain shooting from his wounds with every step.

That was when he saw the book Boss had been reading. Of Mice and Men. With nothing better to do, he opened it to the first page and finished it a few hours later.

The day after he had the bird dream, Doumeki awoke feeling better. Slightly more limber. He was able to make it to the en suite and back without much alarm.

It was one of those days that felt like late evening even though it was only afternoon. Grey skies smothered the city. It had been a beautiful, clear day, Doumeki remembered, the day Boss had come to fetch him from the warehouse. His outline against the open door had been so striking. Like something someone had drawn.

He looked at his phone on the side table. He hadn't heard from him for almost two days. Little errand to run, he'd said. Doumeki of the real world wasn't as proficient at reading Boss' mind as bird-covered dream-Doumeki had been, but something told him that Boss wasn't to be disturbed.

So he waited.

On the third day, he was coming back from the bathroom when the phone rang. He took few stupid jolting steps, felt an ungodly flare of pain and buckled. His knees hit the ground hard and he let out a groan.

'Just when I thought you couldn't possibly get more uncoordinated.'

Doumeki looked up dizzily, not trusting his perceptions anymore. But it seemed like it was Boss all right. No one else in the world could claim rights to a smile like that. Even his dreams hadn't quite hit the mark.

Yashiro went to Doumeki's phone and checked the screen.

'Nanahara,' he said before sending the call to voicemail. 'He can wait.'

He turned, went to the bed and sat on its edge, observing Doumeki's sprawled form nearby with that Cheshire-cat smile.

'They said you were getting better. Wonder what their idea of getting worse is.'

Doumeki, shivering a little from the effort, pulled himself up to a kneeling position. Yashiro only needed to reach out his arm and he could have helped him to his feet. He just watched.

Boss is here, was Doumeki's only winged thought.

Out of the corner of his eye, Yashiro noticed that the book he'd left on the side table was now on Doumeki's pillow. He raised his eyebrows.

'Did you read it?'

Doumeki followed his line of vision.

'Yes.'

'The whole thing?'

'Yes.'

For some reason, Yashiro felt self-conscious. As if he'd written the book himself. He watched Doumeki breathe and try to push off the ground.

The skies outside were still troubled and broiling.

Something spoke to Yashiro then. An old, thin, familiar voice. It told Yashiro to lift his foot, place it on Doumeki's shoulder and press down.

Doumeki stopped. He sank back a little. Kept his head down.

Yashiro increased the pressure, eyes emotionless. Doumeki sank back a little more, his lower back protesting. Didn't make a sound. Waited.

Push him to the ground, the voice said.

A few flecks of rain dotted the window.

With a chuckle, Yashiro released his foot. Doumeki glanced at him and waited for a beat or two before slowly standing up.

Fuck he's big, Yashiro thought yet again. He raised the same foot and hooked it around Doumeki's hip. He drew him in slowly.

Doumeki let himself get drawn.

What he doesn't know... is that I've fallen for him.

As Yashiro leaned up to kiss him, Doumeki heard it again. Over the past few days, he'd played the lines so many times in his head they had worn thin.

I'm more in love with that clumsy oaf than I've ever loved you, Kage.

Yashiro was surprised when Doumeki pulled back. There was a small, eyes-averted pause.

'Boss...'

The conflict was there, written clear as day in his face. Yashiro understood it immediately and couldn't hold back a smile.

'Yes?'

'You…' Doumeki struggled, eyes elsewhere. He tried to condense his emotions. 'Did you mean it?'

Yashiro was on the point of sweetly asking Mean what? He could have dragged it on for as long as he wanted, until Doumeki was a six-foot-three stack of endearing, red-faced confusion.

Instead, he let his smile slowly fade. He remembered the grey world he'd slipped into as he waited in the emergency room to hear from the surgeon, tapping cigarette ash onto some fake soil in a pot.

'Yes,' he said.

Silence.

Like it was suddenly too heavy for him, Doumeki lowered his head and rested it on the nearest thing, which, at the time, was Yashiro.

Embarrassed and taken aback, Yashiro didn't move. Doumeki's cheek was warm against his neck.

Good lord, please don't let him be crying.

He wasn't. He was just a little dizzy from a combination of things (as above: the pain, the medication, the sexual frustration, the emotional shock). To add to all that, over the past few seconds he had braced himself by imagining a few different versions of Yashiro's response, the most likely one being: No, you idiot, I just wanted you to relax so Kageyama could stop you from bleeding to death in front of my eyes. Now hurry up and get your cock out. And, both crushed and elated, Doumeki would have taken his cock out.

The word Yes on the other hand. It just didn't seem likely. And so he'd needed to rest his head. Just for a moment.

Yashiro heard him take a breath in and let it out slowly. Smiling again, eyes on the far wall, he touched the short, bristly hair just behind Doumeki's ear.

'Idiot.'

They were kissing. Heavily. Lips and tongues in a hot, urgent mess. Doumeki's hands roamed like they were doing inventory. Face. Hair. Neck. Cock. Hair again. Cock again, for good measure. His touch was possessive, Yashiro realised with a thrill. He was being claimed.

Yashiro's wrapped his legs around Doumeki's hips. He didn't want to admit it, but he made sure his ankles were locked well below the bandages on his lower back. With that precaution out of the way, he didn't hesitate to squeeze him tightly, pushing him in so their chests and cocks were pressed together. No room to breathe.

Outside, there was a flash of lightning which seemed to unzip something in the sky. Torrents of rain lashed at the windows and Tokyo disappeared behind a grey haze. Spring storm, Yashiro thought. Unexpected.

Doumeki tasted like a strange mix of things. Sour and sharp, possibly from medications. With a little tang of blood. Not quite blood, no. More like the taste of a healing wound. Possibly from the cuts and bruises inside his mouth. And Yashiro had disturbed that healing process. Just a little. Just enough to taste it. It drove him wild.

Boss, meanwhile, tasted like Boss. Cigarettes. A hint of scotch. Bliss.

Doumeki's mind accelerated straight to one hundred percent. Clothes torn off, slammed face-first into the window, hair pulled back, cock driven in, a belt in his hand to make huge, red welts on his back and ass, face slammed again and again into the window with his hand to shut him up and to make him cry out louder. The thoughts made a wet circle of precum on the front of his robe.

Yashiro's mind was drifting along the same wavelength.

And so it was jarring for them both when Yashiro pulled away with a ridiculous sound like a plunger. It even made him chuckle.

'No sex,' he said, trying to reclaim his breathing. 'If I rape you again, Kageyama will have my head.'

Doumeki's mind was still on the window-splayed Yashiro. 'But –'

'Nope. I'm going to be that junior high school girlfriend you keep treating me like. No sex. Wait until you're not a cripple anymore. Or until prom night.'

He was still wrapped tightly around Doumeki and even gyrated his hips as he spoke, increasing the friction between their cocks. Doumeki's head swam.

There was a knock on the door. Unlike last time, though, no one came barging in.

'Yes?' Yashiro called.

'It's me,' said Nanahara. 'I figured you'd be here.'

'Come in.'

Doumeki tried to step away but Yashiro kept his legs locked. He leaned back as Nanahara, slightly wet from the rain, entered. He took in the scene and turned scarlet.

'What the…'

'Did you need to see me for something?' said Yashiro with a warm grin.

'I can… come back later.'

'You're here now. Spit it out.'

'Uh…'

Even more than their incriminating position, Nanahara was mostly put off by the blankness in Doumeki's gaze. Nothing ever seemed to faze that guy, he thought. Whether it was slicing off a finger, getting shot in the back or getting caught dry humping the boss. He tried to remember why he was there.

'Is it true, Boss?'

'Is what true?'

'Did you and those two guys really go around messing with Hirata's… Hirata's everything?'

Yashiro glanced at the ceiling as though trying to recall. 'Yes. Yes, I believe we did.'

(Mob situation in one bullet point: The two guys who used to work for Hirata, the ghosts whom Yashiro had 'gently' persuaded to join his side after the car chase scene, had recently helped him dismantle a lot of Hirata's operations; drugs, prostitution, the works. Scores of people had died over the past three days – Yashiro had stopped keeping count. Low-level guys, most of them, but enough to infuriate the big guy on top.)

'Are you crazy? It's all out in the open now! Hirata's going to have to respond.'

'A big final showdown. It'll be nice that way, don't you think? No more back stabbing or shady warehouse deals. Just a good old fashioned shoot-out. Or whatever. It'll be my first big showdown, so I don't really know how it works.'

'Misumi's going to be so pissed –'

'Misumi doesn't have to get involved. It's between me and Hirata.'

Nanahara marvelled over the fact that that the man sitting on a bed with another man between his thighs clearly seemed to hold the upper hand in the conversation.

'Why now, all of a sudden?' he wanted to know. 'Weren't we doing okay with our lay-low plan?'

Yashiro leaned back fully on his elbow.

'He touched something of mine, so I took everything of his,' he said simply.

Trapped between Yashiro's legs, Doumeki felt his ears ring again.

'Well, almost everything. He's not dead yet.' He looked at Doumeki. 'So get better before the big showdown, okay?'

'Yes, Boss.'

'Also get better so I can get fucked already. I feel like my ass is about to close over.'

Nanahara made a face. 'Ugh. I don't want to hear that.'

Doumeki took the Boss' words to heart. He willed himself to get better. Over the next two weeks as tensions between mobsters grew on the streets outside, strength slowly returned to his body.

Shoes polished and tie straightened, his bandages concealed and his limp gone, Doumeki was walking out of his room and towards the elevator when Yashiro himself strode down the hallway holding flowers. Doumeki blinked.

'For you,' said Yashiro, fighting to keep his face straight. 'A congratulations-on-not-being-a-useless-cripple-anymore bouquet. Hard to find.'

Doumeki took the flowers mutely. Yashiro pursed his lips at the sight and doubled up with laughter.

'Come on,' he said eventually, still sniggering. 'Let's go. Final showdown.'

He didn't take the elevator the first few times, waving apologetically to those inside. Doumeki didn't understand and didn't ask. When Yashiro finally decided to step inside, the elevator was empty. That was when it clicked.

Inside, the flowers landed with an indignant puff on the floor. Their tongues were locked and Yashiro's head was pushed up against the elevator wall so hard he saw stars.

They hadn't even waited long enough. A few nurses and elderly patients watched gaping mouthed as the doors slowly closed on the scene.

About thirty seconds later, the elevator was out of order. Someone inside had pressed the emergency stop button.

'Why did you do that?' Yashiro said, pulling his mouth off Doumeki's cock. 'The whole point was to get in a quick hard fuck before the doors opened on the ground floor.'

'Oh.'

'Moron.'

'Is everyone okay in there?' called a static-filled voice through the speakers.

Idea.

'The lights went out and the elevator started shaking,' Yashiro said, holding down the button for the speaker. 'So we got worried and pushed the emergency stop.'

'That… sounds unlikely.'

'Well, that's what happened.'

'Okay, well… we'll send someone there to get the doors open and get you folks out.'

Yashiro was back to sucking Doumeki's cock, taking him all the way down his throat and gagging loudly.

'Excuse me, sir? You still there?'

He pulled off.

'Yes, I'm here. How long will that take?'

'About five minutes, give or take.'

'That sounds about perfect, thank you.'

'Uh… okay.'

Yashiro fixed Doumeki with a look as his slender fingers kept stroking his dick. 'You heard the man. Five minutes.'

Doumeki remembered that Boss had once called him inspired. He felt it for the first time then. With the build-up over the past few weeks, the unfulfilled image of window-splayed, belt-whipped Yashiro and the added pressure of five minutes, he had absolutely no time for reins and bits and blinkers. It was one hundred percent the whole way.

He wrenched Yashiro to his feet, spun him around and slammed him face-first into the elevator wall, hand on the back of his head. Yashiro yelled and grunted.

With his other hand, he removed Yashiro's belt entirely and pulled down his pants. He filled his hands with Yashiro's smooth cheeks and shoved both thumbs into his hole. Yashiro inhaled sharply. Hearing it, Doumeki thumped him against the wall again.

'Ah!'

Another thump, his face right up against the smooth metal, smashing his jaw. He hoped it would leave a mark. He finally understood Doumeki wanted him to shut up. He bit his tongue.

Which was a mistake, because that was the moment Doumeki pushed his cock into him.

He bit too hard and tasted blood again. It was fast becoming a theme. Doumeki started pounding.

'Oh, fuck! Fuck, you feel so good.'

For that, he got another face-full of metal wall, plus Doumeki's huge hand covering the side of his face, holding him to the cold steel.

He resorted to whimpering and breathing hard through his nose.

The sound made Doumeki go on overdrive. He fucked fast and deep, feeling Yashiro's insides give way and soften, welcoming him, pulling him in. He suddenly wanted to hear Boss' voice again. He removed his hand and pulled his hair back sharply so his face came away from the wall.

'Ah! Shit, Doumeki. Yes!'

Hearing his name sparked something new. He bent over and picked up Yashiro's belt on the floor. Wrapping one end around his hand, he raised it and whipped, the buckle coming down hard on the pale skin of his ass, leaving an immediate mark.

Yashiro cried out and then actually cried, tears stinging his face. Doumeki was relentless. It was like no force in the world could stop his cock or the hand that delivered blow after blow of welts. He felt himself climbing and climbing and then tip over. He came on the elevator floor.

Feeling Yashiro bucking around his cock made him lose focus. He dropped the belt and grabbed Yashiro's hips.

'Boss, I'm close,' Doumeki warned.

'Don't come inside me,' Yashiro gasped suddenly.

'Why?'

'This is a new suit. You'll ruin it. Just pull out and come on the floor.'

Doumeki didn't know if it was part of the game but it pissed him off regardless. He slammed Yashiro hard into the wall one last time, held him there and came inside him.

He braced himself against the wall, hovering over Yashiro and gasping for breath. Yashiro was panting just as hard. His face was sore and throbbing while the belt marks on his ass stung in the cold air. It almost made up for two weeks of abstinence. Almost.

Then there was the matter of his suit. An expensive Armani. And nothing to wipe or clean up with.

Idea.

'As soon as you pull out,' Yashiro said, his voice breathy. 'Suck it all out of me. All of your come.'

Even though he'd just climaxed, the words sent a tingle through him. He was still somewhere between sadist Doumeki and doormat Doumeki. He obeyed.

'Don't swallow.'

He straightened, mouth full of his own semen, unable to place his emotions exactly. Yashiro turned around, pulled his face close and prised his lips open with his own. The transfer was effortless. Yashiro licked Doumeki's entire mouth clean. Doumeki felt his cock stir again and tried to subdue it.

Yashiro smiled as he pulled away and licked his lips. Hard to believe the word 'impotent' was ever associated with Doumeki Chikara.

That was when there was a sound from above and the elevator doors were wrenched open just a little. They were somewhere between floors.

'You folks okay in there?'

'Fantastic.'

Pleased that he'd kept his suit safe, Yashiro pulled on his pants and motioned for Doumeki to pass him his belt.

Instead, Doumeki picked it up, slid it through his belt loops and fastened it in front. Yashiro watched his big hands work.

Their eyes met.

Yashiro smiled.

Doumeki's heart thumped.

There wasn't a mark on Boss' face from being smashed against the wall, he noted, with equal parts relief and regret.

Perhaps slightly more relief than regret.

Final showdown with Hirata in very thin bullet points (to be filled in at Kou-sensei's discretion; apologies for the brevity, Kou-sensei, it just didn't seem important compared to the elevator sex scene):

-After build up over weeks, final scene takes place at night near docks, Hirata and co versus Yashiro and co. Everyone on the good side is still alive. Sugimoto injured but not crucially. Ryuuzaki is also there, having just rescued his woman (who definitely has a name).

-Typical showdown dialogue where Hirata reveals just how intensely and personally he hates Yashiro. The slutty granddaughter who gets the inheritance. Yashiro impressed by the analogy.

-Amou revealed as bad guy.

-Things look bad for Yashiro and co, crouched and cornered, running out of ammo and ideas.

-Tense/funny moment where Doumeki and Nanahara have argument to figure out who will rush out there and die for Yashiro. Yashiro listens and laughs, despite being aware that all three are most likely going to die.

-Misumi and his crew burst on the scene, fuelled by confused paternal/non-paternal love for Yashiro and straight-up anger over Amou's betrayal. Saves the day.

-Close call with Hirata who is close to killing Misumi. Doumeki's sheer brawn knocks him to ground, where Yashiro finally kills him.

-Misumi face-offs with a beaten and defeated Amou. Some semblance of Amou's long-suppressed feelings for Misumi revealed. Misumi about to kill him but can't bring himself to. So Yashiro does it for him. Misumi, shocked, stares at lifeless body for a while.

-Everyone goes home.

Aftermath of showdown:

-Yashiro reminds everyone, whenever he gets the chance, that he'd called it first re: Amou being the mastermind.

-Yashiro remembers with pride how wonderfully Doumeki, his heavy tank, had done. He never says so and Doumeki never knows.

-Doumeki keeps the congratulations-on-not-being-a-useless-cripple-anymore flowers in a vase in his kitchen.