Chapter 4
Mishima thought it would be weird from then on between himself and Iwai, but it wasn't. Iwai continued to joke around with him, even giving him orders playfully, and Mishima did them. To him, it was just two friends messing around, at least that's what he told himself. In truth, he liked the connection and dynamic that he felt. This was the feeling that he once sought out from men like Kamoshida. What he loved was knowing someone else would make the decisions for him. All Mishima had to do was follow commands. It was the abuse he feared, but none had manifested with Iwai. Soon, he started spending more and more time with him.
"It's like I work here." Said Mishima, restocking shelves with some new merchandise Iwai had just gotten in.
"Better than that. You're free labor! Plus, an employee would complain way more than you do."
Mishima paused in his sorting of the shelves. "Since when did I complain?"
"Any complaint, even one, is way more than zero."
Mishima smiled and continued. He liked this comfortable banter.
"Once you get done up there, let's lock up. You've been working hard with no reward. I'll take you to a sushi buffet in the area. It's not the best, but their stuff is good."
"Really sir? You're taking me for a treat?"
"Hmph, such a kid! And don't think Iwai hasn't noticed you calling him sir more often. This becoming a thing for you?"
"I guess so. Is that a problem?"
"Nope."
"Do you like it, sir?"
"Don't get ahead of yourself, boy."
Mishima smiled. "Don't think I haven't noticed that you have been calling me boy more often than not. It's been a few days since you used my name."
"Act like a boy, get treated like a boy."
"I'm not complaining."
"I know. That is one of your best traits. You obey."
"You make it easy for me, Iwai."
The two were exiting the store, Iwai locking up. He paused to light his cigarette. "I'm beginning to prefer it when you call me sir and not my name."
"Why?"
"Because I said so, boy."
"Okay, sir. I'll try to remember that."
"You'd better. Otherwise, no sushi for you."
"Awe, c'mon. I'm just being playful, Sir Iwai." Said Mishima with a wink.
"Hmm… I guess I can allow you to call my name when it's prefaced with a sir. Just keep the sirs to a minimum when out in public. I don't want people looking at us weirdly. How we act behind closed doors is our business, not the world's."
"Yes s- I mean… Umm…"
"Hmph." Then Iwai leaned in close and whispered, "You learn fast, boy. Keep up the hard work."
The glow those words gave him lasted the rest of the night, even throughout the meal and back home. Iwai had ordered the sushi for them both, never once consulting Mishima. At first, it annoyed him, but this was just more of Iwai taking control. What he was doing was making things as easy as possible for Mishima. When you have too many choices, it can get overwhelming. Let someone else make the calls. That's not to say he liked everything he ate, he didn't; but, he loved what this said about them. It said both felt comfortable with this dynamic.
"Did you try the sashimi?"
"I did, but I didn't much like it."
Iwai held up a finger, wiggled it, then pointed to his phone. He began typing. Mishima's phone vibrated soon afterward. The message read: Didn't ask if you liked it, boy. Asked if you tried it. Answer my questions without editorializing.
Mishima's response: Yes sir.
His phone let out another little buzz: Spell it right from now on. Yes Sir. Capital S in the future.
He dutifully fixed his mistake and set the phone back down.
"Did you try the veggie tempura?"
"Not yet."
"Try some."
He did. It was good. This was yams and carrots.
"How was it?"
"Very good."
"Which item did you prefer most on the table?"
Mishima thought for a moment. "The chicken udon." He wanted to say more, but remembered to only answer the questions Iwai asked. If he wanted more info, he would let him know.
"Why?"
"Don't really know. I think it combines my favorite parts of ramen, but with something thicker. The noodles are better."
Again, Iwai gestured to his phone. His message read: Bet you like them thicker, huh, boy? Don't respond, I already know the answer.
He didn't reply, but his cheeks were flushed, and his pants were tight. Mishima just knew that if he stood up and checked, he would see a wet mark. Ugh, pre-cum.
"Finish up, I gotta get home and so do you."
They polished off the last of what they ordered. Iwai paid the bill and Mishima thanked him, then the two headed in the same direction. It was late, raining, and the two of them were sharing an umbrella, Iwai holding it for both of them. Hardly anyone was around, and those that were were all in a rush to get home.
When Iwai began to speak, it was quiet and did not carry far. "Did you enjoy yourself, boy?"
"I did, Sir." Even when speaking, he did his best to make it understood he was using a capital letter.
"You forgot to grab a ration for today. Do that before going home. I'll unlock the store for you."
The two headed back. Iwai unlocked the shutters. Mishima popped in without turning any of the lights on. A ration popped out and Mishima turned to leave. He was stopped by Iwai. He grabbed him, though not roughly, and pressed himself against him. His scruff rubbed sandpaper-like against the nape of his neck. Then Mishima felt a kiss against his collarbone. It worked it's way up his throat until reaching just under his ear. He could feel a light bite against his flesh. A noise, high and prolonged, escaped Mishima's lips, only to be quieted by the finger of Iwai.
"Shhh…. Just wanted to see how you would respond to this."
Then he pulled away, only to lean back into him and whisper, "What happens in this store, stays here. If I text you things, that stay on the phone. No sharing. No discussing. No arguments. If this is not what you want, say it now."
Mishima remained silent.
"Do you want this?"
"Yes."
"Good, if things change, tell me. You do not need to feel trapped. Use your words. Understood, boy?"
"Yes, Sir."
"Now, get home. I will send you a text tonight. You can think about that while on the train home. I will text you, got it? You can reply, but I am the one to initiate it. Do you understand, boy?"
"Yes, Sir."
"Now, get home."
And he did. The whole trip back was a blur. Mishima was genuinely surprised he did not get off at the wrong exit. When he got home and checked his messages, he saw one from Iwai.
Did you make it home safe, boy?
Yes, Sir.
Good. Remember, this is between us. But if you want things to stop, simply say so. You can also tell me to slow down if you need to.
I will, Sir. Don't worry, this is fine.
Not pushing your boundaries too far?
No. Not at all.
Good. What ration did you get this time?
Mishima checked. It was one he hadn't gotten yet.
I got the D ration.
Well, if you continue behaving yourself, boy, you will get a better-tasting ration than what comes in a can.
What do you mean, sir?
It's an American euphemism for the dick. To get the D means you are gonna get fucked. We will see, though. No promises. Now, eat your ration and go to bed. No more messages.
Mishima put his phone down and did as instructed. It tasted strange, but after reading Iwai's messages, the taste lingered in his mouth and aroused him more than he knew. That night, he went to bed after a very quick and sexually charged masturbation session, excited for whatever came next.