Business as Usual, III
by Laura Bryannan

Ryu-san exited the elevator into the deserted parking structure and spotted his prey unlocking his car. Takeda-san heard the footsteps and turned to face him, eying his pursuer warily.

“What do you want?”

“You left without saying goodbye,” Ryu-san pouted, enjoying himself immensely. He made a grab for Takeda-san, who side-stepped without effort, then attempted to kick Ryu-san's feet out from under him. That move was neatly parried and they faced each other, growling, crouched in battle stance. Ryu-san found the lack of fear in Takeda-san's eyes unexpected and disappointing.

They sparred for a minute or so, working up a sweat, neither gaining ground. The guy's fucking fast, Ryu-san thought. And how come I never noticed he's taller than me? Takeda-san remained calm, blocking him effectively, and Ryu-san began to get pissed off. Perhaps that's why his next strike missed its target, leaving himself wide open. Takeda-san's fist connected with his temple and he knew pain, then felt himself slammed into the wall, arm pinned behind his back.

Takeda-san shoved his thigh between his own, raking his hip seductively against his cock. The barbell in Ryu-san's left nipple made it an easy target, and Takeda-san twisted it cruelly. Not to be outdone, Ryu-san popped a few buttons shoving his hand inside Takeda-san's shirt, and discovered the steel ring in his nipple. He pulled it, rubbing his thumb along the sensitive nub, and smirked in satisfaction as Takeda-san hissed.

Their hips were locked together, grinding, striving for purchase. Ryu-san instinctively sought his lover's mouth, needing to taste and bite, but Takeda-san turned his face aside. Frustrated, he latched onto Takeda-san's neck instead, and began to suck up the mother of all hickeys. I'm gonna have a black eye to explain tomorrow, he thought. Might as well return the favor. Not to be outdone, Takeda-san sank his teeth into Ryu-san's shoulder and bit with all his strength, while continuing to roll and pinch his nipple mercilessly.

Ryu-san whimpered. It hurt like a bitch, but damn, it was making him super hot! The fucker was topping him and he didn't even care. None of the pretty boys he'd chased and caught in the past had mustered resistance like this, and he felt achingly aroused. Takeda-san backed away for a fraction of a second, and suddenly Ryu-san's belt was undone and a hand was down his boxers, gripping him firmly.

“Need someone to show you how, little man?” Takeda-san challenged, stroking efficiently. Ryu-san bit his tongue to keep from groaning. He shoved back and they grappled. Takeda-san was unable to keep Ryu-san's hand from invading his pants and working his own cock with equal effectiveness.

“You been waitin' for someone like me all your life, haven't you sweetface?” Ryu-san grinned, pulling on Takeda-san's foreskin and working the head in a way that made him cry out.

Takeda-san stroked harder in retaliation, and enjoyed the writhing it produced. “Boys like you can never keep it up,” he taunted, trying to keep his own reactions in check, but not succeeding.

“You're gonna cum for me, aren't you bitch?” Ryu-san whispered huskily, and felt Takeda-san's body shudder. His hand was slick with precum, so he knew Takeda-san was close. Unfortunately, he was too. And damn, the guy was doing that! He tried to think of his obnoxious ex-girlfriend, his parole officer...anything...but it wasn't enough to keep the sensations from overwhelming him.

“That wouldn't be polite. Ladies first,” Takeda-san purred, feeling the tension building in his rival's body. If he could manage to hold out a minute longer, he knew he'd win, but it was going to be close. They struggled together, gasping and moaning, losing sight of the battle at the last, aware only of the heat and pleasure they were receiving at each other's hand.

When Ryu-san came first, Takeda-san exulted for all of two seconds before releasing himself. They leaned together, panting, each appreciating the scent of the other and the heft of the weapon they held. For a few moments, there was contentment and balance between them...perhaps even admiration. They both noticed and wondered at it.

Ryu-san broke the spell by pulling his hand out of Takeda-san's shorts. He looked him in the eye and leisurely licked his fingers clean, hoping to goad Takeda-san into a similar performance. Takeda-san waited for him to finish, then slid his fingers into Ryu-san's mouth.

“You still look hungry,” Takeda-san intoned, smiling evilly. “Take care of this for me.”

He regretted his action immediately, however, for Ryu-san's tongue did a thorough job and he began to harden again. And when Ryu-san arrogantly swallowed his fingers he gasped in spite of himself and jerked his hand back as if he'd stuck it in a flame.

Turning away quickly, he headed to his car, readjusting his clothes on the way. The insufferable shit was laughing again and he was sure he was blushing.

“Am I gonna see you again, pretty boy?” Ryu-san called out.

“Fuck you,” came the reply.

“No, fuck you,” Ryu-san insisted. Takeda-san gave him a sidelong glare as he got in his car and drove off.

Ryu-san watched him go, too languid to move. Thinking about the scene was getting him hard again. Damn! The guy was like a drug or something. He wasn't done and wanted more. He sighed and fumbled in his breast pocket for his smokes. Lighting one with a shaking hand, he wondered if it would look overeager to call the stuck-up dork tomorrow.


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There was nothing to be done. No matter what he wore, the hickeys would show. He wasn't sure how Yuki was going to take such lurid evidence of his...yes, it felt like infidelity, even though they'd broken up over a year ago, and it had all been Yuki's fault last night happened in the first place.

His crew noticed right away. Smiling grimly at the whistles and howls, he walked through the shop to his office, cursing himself for feeling so embarrassed. Yuki was sitting at his desk, and Jin handed him Takahashi-san's business card.

“Operations at Okinawa Development,” Jin told him. “Call her and she'll finalize the deal with us. The account is your baby, Yuki. I don't want to have anything to do with this company. Anyone calls, and I mean anyone—even if it's the fucking CEO—you handle it.”

Yuki nodded solemnly, concerned by Jin's bitter tone. But when he spied the bruises on Jin's neck he felt concerned for other reasons. “Well, someone had fun last night,” he snapped angrily.

Jin rounded on him, glaring. “Fun, Yuki? Far from it.” Hot as fucking hell maybe, but not fun.

Yuki frowned, and then an awareness began to dawn. “Oh no. Jin, don't tell me you had to...uh...whore for this account. With that man.... You didn't, did you?”

“It was required. Why do you think I didn't want to go?”

“But I.... Oh shit!” Yuki stammered, his jealousy turning to mortification instantly. “Jin, I'm really sorry. Why didn't you tell me? I didn't know.”

Jin sighed and reached for his ex, who came into his arms willingly. “Just do as I ask next time,” he murmured. Yuki continued to apologize until Jin put a finger to his lips. “Enough. It's all right. I made the choice to go in the end, and the experience was...interesting.” To say the least, he thought. Last night had been so disturbing, he was still reeling from it.

Even afterward in the quiet of his apartment he'd found no peace. He took off his suit, but could still smell Ryu-san's cologne. Ryu-san's most private scent was all over his hand, and he couldn't keep from holding it near his face to breathe it in. Musky and dark, it caused a reaction in his pants every time he did.

Angry at his lack of self-control, he finally took a shower and scrubbed himself thoroughly, trying to wash away every molecule of the guy's essence. Then he stroked himself to orgasm imagining Ryu-san beneath him, writhing with pleasure as he took every inch Jin had to give and begged for more.

Yes, Ryu-san blew up his life last night—razing everything in his emotional landscape to rubble. Thus bereft, Jin yearned for the familiar sweetness of his oldest and dearest friend. Comrades since childhood, they trained at the same dojo, studied after school together, and finally discovered sex together. Like two pieces of a puzzle, they seemed a perfect fit.

But somewhere along the way boredom ensued. Yuki was smart, funny, easygoing...and utterly, mind-numbingly predictable. Over the years Jin withdrew more and more. Love a few times a day became a few times a week, and then a few times a month. Yuki had taken it well when he finally announced he was moving out—by that point they were more roommates than lovers anyway—and, miraculously, they continued to work effectively together.

And so matters remained...until last night. Trying to make the break a clean one, Jin had kept his distance, and they had not made love since he walked out. He was aware how much Yuki still cared, and felt guilt about leading him on. It wouldn't be right to give Yuki false hope, but he was feeling needy and afraid.

Carding his fingers into Yuki's hair, he pulled him into a kiss, finding the taste and style just as he remembered. His relief was palpable. Yuki's body was trembling, and Jin felt safe and sheltered, as if he'd come home. Yes, yes, this he knew, this he loved. Maybe everything would be all right.

Their kiss heated up, Jin growling and Yuki sighing as they opened wider and explored deeper. But when Yuki began to expertly palm his crotch, Jin broke the kiss and pulled Yuki's hand away, smiling ruefully. His office was no place for a tryst. He was amazed the kids had left them alone this long.

“May I come over tonight?” Jin whispered.

Yuki's looked surprised, but his eyes were shining. “Really? You sure?”

“Yes.”

Yuki smiled. “Well, the place is a wreck but, yeah, I'd like that.” Jin nodded, and they parted with a quick smooch.

Jin thought he was home free until, later that day, he caught himself sniffing for any remnants of his tormentor's scent on his fingers, and feeling disappointed to find none.


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Ryu-san was pissed. How had he lost? Playing the scene over and over in his head, he couldn't put his finger on where it went wrong. The next morning the mirror snickered at the garish bruise around his eye. It felt like his coworkers were laughing too, although no one said anything to his face.

His secretary was so used to him arriving at work in various states of hangover and disarray, she barely blinked. “Rough night, I see,” she observed, and wisely dropped the matter. But she brought him painkillers with his tea, and he was grateful. Li-san was good like that.

It was going to take more than painkillers to fix the mess in his head, though. Tormented, he'd haunted the clubs every night for over a week, screwing one bespectacled man after another. It didn't work. He felt hungrier than ever. Hungry and totally out of control. How had the guy managed to get under his skin like that? Obsessed. That was the best word. He'd never felt so obsessed by another human being.

He groaned and hammered his head with his fists, as if to pound out the memories of that night. Takeda-san's scent, the taste of his skin, Takeda-san's...technique, the effortless way he'd taken control and thwarted Ryu-san's attempts to dominate. Thinking about the scene made him feel exhilarated and feverish, and he hadn't felt like that since he was a kid blissfully curing his virginity.

Unfortunately, Takeda-san was a mystery. The dossier Security pulled together was woefully brief. Takeda-san was nine months older and received his BA at twenty. Since Ryu-san had barely finished high school, he found both facts especially galling. Takeda Delivery filed tax returns for the past four years, but the company hadn't incorporated until two years ago. Takeda-san was the sole named officer. He'd never been married, parents dead, no siblings, and was renting in a relatively crappy part of town—not far from where Ryu-san grew up, he was bemused to note.

The bleep of his cell startled him out of his musings, and he groaned at the ID. He'd moved out nine months ago and hadn't fucked her since, but his ex still called every day. It was tempting to ignore her, but he knew from long experience it was better to get it over with. Besides, he was feeling so messed up, a little abuse of his ever-constant punching bag might make him feel better.

“Muuuu-chan,” she sang. “Come over tonight. I'm lonely. I'll make you dinner.”

They'd grown up in the same neighborhood and she'd been a fun girl in those days—strong, cute, always ready for an adventure. The problems came with puberty. He bedded her when they were fourteen and even fancied himself in love at the time. It took three months to realize he hadn't been her first, nor was he her only.

His heart was bruised, but he recovered quickly enough, especially considering that fidelity wasn't one of his strong suits either. She was simply there, the one constant in his life. A bewildering mix of parasite and whore, clinging desperately one day and spreading her legs for someone else the next. They played, fought, stole each other's lovers and spent furious months not speaking, but somehow he always found himself back in her bed.

“Are you there Mugen?” she asked. “Please come over. I miss you. We don't have to do anything. I'll make us dinner and we can just talk.” Yeah right, he thought. Like when did we ever just talk? And when did you learn to cook?

His cock was pulling him to give in, no question, but it was more than that. He was feeling lonely too. Lonely and weird and not himself. He needed a distraction—a familiar, predictable way to take his mind off his tormentor. If nothing else, his ex was amusing.

“OK, Kohza,” he decided. “I'll be over at seven.”

to be continued