Disclaimer: Kazuya Minekura owns Wild Adapter. I do not.

Warning: Language, sexual content.

Note: This chapter is honestly stand-alone. It isn't necessary for the advancement of the story, but I felt like writing it. Also, I had to change the rating of the story to M from T, so if you don't see it on the WA page check your Ratings filter.

Beretta S

brkstrtrcr

June 2009

Your apartment looks like something out of a goddamned horror movie.

You hold up the crime scene tape still crossing your front door and let Tokitoh duck inside. You immediately regret that decision. There's blood dried to the wooden floor of your living room and scarlet gore splattered up one of the white plaster walls, and you know without asking that he's thinking the exact thing you're thinking, that one day your apartment will look like this when he explodes across the walls.

It's not a thought that either of you want to chew on for very long.

You step over what's left of your coffee table, the smashed remains of the Playstation, and make your way into the bedroom. Tokitoh follows you like a second shadow. The mattress has been thrown to the floor and cut open, your books strewn about, and you aren't surprised to find the hard drive to your computer missing. It doesn't matter. You came here to collect what few belongings you actually need: clothing, toothbrushes, weapons.

Ten minutes later you're crawling back under the yellow police tape with a trash bag over your shoulder, Tokitoh scurrying out behind you, and you pause to pull your name plate off of the front door and drop it down the trash chute before jabbing at the elevator button. Your cat gives you a slightly mournful look as he glances between you and the door to the only home that he's ever known, but you smile and ruffle his hair and nod for him to get into the elevator. You can make a new home as long as you have him. The location isn't that important.

Kasai is waiting downstairs and he helps you load your bag into the trunk of his beat-up cruiser. Tokitoh tosses his backpack crammed with video games and blankets and manga and underwear on top and slams the hatch down before clambering into the back seat. Twenty minutes later you're hauling those belongings into Kou's shop, which is open today.

Your Chinese friend smiles at Tokitoh and offers his assistance and your cat bristles and shies away, running into the back room. It brings a smile to your lips. Some things just don't change. And before Kou and Kasai can start the inquisition that you feel building in the air like a thunderstorm you duck into the back behind Tokitoh.

You need to take a shower. The sea water, blood, and Sanada are clinging to your skin so thick that it's suffocating you, and you want hot water and soap and steam. Tokitoh's no better off. You grab his wrist and pull him into the adjacent room behind the main store where Kou stores all of his illicit merchandise. Behind the boxes and containers there's a small enclosed shower stall and a sink. You saw it for the first time two years ago when Kou patched you up after the incident at the Tojou headquarters, and you pray to a higher power that it still works.

The taps creak in protest as you turn them. The plumbing in here is oxidized rust and older than Kasai, but after several moments of groaning and bubbling you're rewarded with a hot spray. You turn to look at Tokitoh and he's already wrestling his shirt off and fighting with his sneakers. He doesn't normally care for water but like most cats he also desperately hates being dirty. You think for a second that he might fight you for the first shower.

"Quit staring, you pervert," he frowns.

You glance at him and calmly remind him that you've got the same parts, and this isn't the first time you've seen him naked. He punches you half-halfheartedly in the shoulder, mutters "Stupid Kubo-chan", and reaches for your belt.

He fumbles with the buckle for a second or two, but you don't offer any assistance. This is something new. He's never made any overt attempts to encourage your perverted tendencies and you're more than willing to see just how far he takes things. Maybe it's the fact that you want to burn all traces of Sanada from your mind. Maybe it's the fact that you almost lost this kid two days ago. Maybe it's the fact that the way he's biting into his lower lip in frustrated concentration is kicking up your heart rate a few paces.

Now that's going to be a problem.

You look away from his face and to his hands, still cut and bruised from those damned piano wires. He manages your belt finally and his fingers move to the button and fly of your jeans. You glance back at his face and the dark blush on his cheeks is priceless. He murdered a man in cold blood less than forty-eight hours ago and he's getting flustered by your jeans?

He happens to glance up at you as he's dragging down your zipper and you can't help but smile incredulously at the embarrassment in his violet eyes. You push him away gently, pull your shirt up over your head, and kick off your pants before snagging him by the front of his shirt and pulling him into your chest to kiss him.

There's no resistance in his thin frame as he braces himself against you with hands on your sides. This is the same Tokitoh that pinned you to the wall yesterday by force, and right now he's blushing furiously because you're pressed against him in your underwear. You chuckle quietly against his mouth and he growls at you. He shoves you back and stomps over to the shower, shucking off his own pants and underwear and ducking into the shower.

You follow him with a grin. The hot water feels wonderful on your skin and you take a moment to soak your hair and let it run into your eyes. You can almost feel the grime running down your legs and into the drain. You squint through steam and water at your unhappy cat and he glares at you from several inches away. "What?" you ask quietly, but your voice echoes around you both anyway.

He reaches out and takes your wrist and pulls until you're holding out the inside of your right forearm and the inflamed, angry red skin and black ink there. Your brand. You'd forgotten about it, but the possessive look in Tokitoh's eyes tells you that he's not going to forget about it any time soon. You want to explain to him that it's necessary, that this mark is his protection, but he doesn't give you time.

Instead he drops your wrist and grabs your hair at the base of your skull and wrenches your head down, kissing you with bruising force. You don't bother to suppress the moan that drags up out of your throat as he presses against you, wet and naked, and your back hits slippery tile. His tongue slicks against your teeth, demanding. His hands pin your hips against the wall of the shower, possessive. He groans low and loud when you take his narrow hips and pull them against yours harshly.

Common sense tells you that Tokitoh doesn't truly understand what's happening between the two of you right now, because you've never explained it to him and he's never asked. You've honestly never had any real interest in it, but now you wish desperately that you would have mentioned it to him sooner. You aren't an expert on the exact mechanics of gay sex any more than you're a rocket scientist; you can infer what goes where based on physiology and the handful of raunchy movies you've seen.

Tokitoh's questionable history is what drags your conscience to the forefront of your mind, however. You're positive that he was abused sexually, but to what extent you aren't sure. And the last thing that you want to do is scare him or hurt him. But he's grinding a pretty impressive erection against your thigh and something tells you that he knows exactly what his teenaged hormones are after.

The slender fingers that he wraps around your dick confirm that, as far as you're concerned. You push into his fist automatically, because it feels too damned good not to and he's still kissing you. Suddenly labels like 'gay' and 'mentally competent' don't matter. What does is the pressure around your cock and the way he's biting your tongue and the incredible pressure coiling in the base of your gut.

You're halfway through contemplating whether it would be morally acceptable to throw him down onto the floor of the shower and fuck him senseless when someone pounds on the door to the storage room and says, "Makoto, can you stop fucking molesting the kid and hurry up?!"

Good old Kasai. If he weren't your uncle, and a cop, you'd shoot him, right now. You're rock hard and dreading the painful experience that this little group discussion will be, and Tokitoh doesn't look any better off. "Fuck him," he growls into your ear, his hips still grinding against yours. "He can wait."

It takes every ounce of self-control you possess to take your roommate by his thin shoulders and push him away an inch or two. "He will come in here," you sigh. "We'd better go."

Tokitoh looks mutinous. He puffs out his cheeks in internal debate, and before you can reiterate that your detective uncle won't hesitate to barge right into the shower stall, modesty be damned, your roommate is on his knees in front of you, his lips wrapped around the base of your dick.

"Fuck," you mutter, trying valiantly to overcome the instinctive urge to shove yourself down his throat. His eyes are tightly closed in concentration as he pulls back and runs his agile tongue up the underside of your already sensitive erection. You don't know where the hell he learned this--certainly not from you--but it feels absolutely incredible. He establishes an impromptu rhythm quickly and you can do nothing more than lean against the wall and fight to breathe.

His mouth is hot, wet, and your eyes slip closed as you strive to keep your knees from buckling underneath you. After several minutes of you struggling for air and Tokitoh doing the most obscene things with his tongue, you know that you're going to lose it and in your fogged state of mind you aren't sure if you should warn him or not. You make the mistake of looking down at him just in time to register that he's touching himself while giving you the best damned blow job of your young life and his eyes lock with yours, half-lidded and flashing with an emotion that you've never seen there before.

He cries out around your dick in his mouth as he jerks himself to climax, tensing on his knees in front of you. Somewhere between his gasps and the tightening around your dick you lose it. You come down his throat with a choked groan that sounds like his name and slide down the wall of the shower as your knees finally give out.

You don't bother to open your eyes as you find your arms full of Tokitoh. He curls up between your shaking thighs and buries his face in your throat, arms wound around your neck, and sighs. The water still beating down against you both is tepid, almost cool, and he shivers against your stomach--from the temperature of that water or something else entirely, you aren't sure.

When your heart stops hammering against your ribcage and you feel confident in your ability to speak again you kiss the wet hair beneath your chin and open your eyes. "Should I bother to ask where you picked up that little trick?" you ask quietly.

You can feel him blush against your shoulder. "TV," he mumbles, and your eyebrows shoot up to your hairline. What in the name of all things holy has he been watching while you're out running deliveries? The dazed, slightly haunted look in his half-lidded violet eyes tells you that maybe TV wasn't his only educator on sexual matters, and you feel indescribably dirty again. Dirty like you did whenever you leave a WA crime scene. Dirty like you did when you left Sanada's office. Dirty like you did when Komiya spilled his pretty red blood on the floor and died in front of you.

He's spared from further embarrassment by a soft knock on the other side of the shower stall's frosted glass. Tokitoh freezes in horror as Kou's gentle voice echoes through the room. "My apologies if I am interrupting, but your uncle is becoming rather impatient, Kubota-kun."

You chuckle quietly at that and mutter an amused, "Okay" and wait to hear Kou close the door behind himself. Then Tokitoh is hauling you up and out of the water. Kou left towels for you and you waste no time in giving your hair a cursory once-over with the soft material before wrapping it around your waist to procure clothing from the bags you brought. Your skin is clean of salt water and blood and sweat, and you feel exponentially better.

You pull on a clean pair of jeans and a sweatshirt while Tokitoh wrestles his way back into pants and a tee shirt, and you smile at his antics while reaching for the doorknob to the main room of the Toukohan. Before you can open the door, however, he's pulling on the hood of your sweatshirt. You turn and he tackles you against the door.

"Toki--" you start to ask what he's doing but he drags you down to eye level and his handsome face looks very serious.

"Did you fuck Sanada?" he asks quietly.

You blink as your mind derails like a train wreck. "No," you frown.

"Did he fuck you?"

You arch an eyebrow at your mate and cross your arms over your chest. "No, Tokitoh. And before you run through the list of permutations and combinations of every lewd sexual act that you know, nothing happened."

You feel guilty for lying to him, but it wouldn't make it any easier if you came clean. You probably feel worse about it than he does, anyway.

Tokitoh sighs and rubs the back of his neck nervously, and you find this interesting because he doesn't get nervous around you very often. "I just thought...." he trails off.

You wrap an arm around his slim waist and pull him closer, flush against you. "What did you think, Tokitoh?"

He glances up at you and frowns. "You were gone all night, and the old man said that Sanada's been after you for years, and I thought that you...."

He's getting frustrated by trying to explain his feelings, and you smile crookedly and lean down and press your lips to his. The way that his eyes flutter closed at your touch amazes you. "Sanada tried," you admit to him. "But I'm not interested. He's a dangerous man."

Tokitoh looks at you and smiles sadly. "So am I," he sighs.

And you know that he's right. He could snap at any time, for absolutely no reason, and rip you and himself to shreds with that hand of his. But that isn't what makes Tokitoh dangerous. No, it's the way that he arches against you when you kiss him, and the way your name rolls off of his tongue so easily. This cat is dangerous the way that no dog never can be.

Because you let him.

Sanada can shoot you, stab you, beat you, rape you. It wouldn't be nearly as lethal as this kid in your arms turning his back on you.

And you don't know how to explain this to Tokitoh because you've never been big with deep philosophical discussions on the topic of your feelings, so you smile at him and say, "Yeah, you are," and pull him out into the main room of the Toukohan, where your uncle is pacing in aggravation and Kou is locking the front door.

You sit down on the couch and Tokitoh sprawls beside you, his back propped up on your shoulder, and produces a Gameboy from somewhere in his pocket. Kou joins you and says nothing. The detective sits across from you in a beaten-up old armchair and lights a cigarette. You ignore Kasai's arched eyebrow as he stares pointedly through the haze of smoke in the air at your arm slung casually around your cat's thin shoulders, and you launch into an explanation of your meeting with Sanada.

The way that Tokitoh growls quietly against your shoulder with every mention of your new boss' name makes the corner of your lips quirk up. You tighten your arm around his skinny shoulders and, as soon as Kasai and Kou are involved in a conversation about these latest developments in the epic saga of your lives, you lean down until your lips brush over the sensitive shell of Tokitoh's ear. "Since when do cats growl?" you murmur quietly. He elbows you roughly in the ribs and cusses at you, something to the effect of, "not a fucking pet," and gets to his feet, stalking into the back room. Your uncle isn't watching—thank god—but Kou smiles knowingly before turning back to the conversation.

Tokitoh isn't pissed about your little jokes. He's just psychopathically possessive of your sorry ass.

Typical cat.

I haven't written an explicit scene like that in a while, and I hope it didn't sound awkward or OOC, but realistically I have no clue how these guys would act during sex. That's why I love this pairing so damned much. Neither one of them comes across as the submissive, 'womanly' type.

Sekiya, on the other hand...