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“Living off the grid, I guess you do what you can to make money, right?”
Kiryu doesn’t dignify that with an answer initially. He just tilts his chin up and then offers a smile. It’s a smile with low-lidded eyes and tightly drawn lips that don’t reveal the white of his teeth, but there’s a casual kindness in the light wrinkles beside his eyes. Genuine, too.
Someya licks his bottom lip minutely, surveying him up and down. Leans forward and even tilts his head as he scans endless thighs wrapped in stockings. All that bronze skin blurred out erotically by nighttime lace.
Someya drags his line of vision back up with great effort when he hears Kiryu’s voice for the first time, as monotonous and deep as ever, the rich hum of good scotch.
“It’s been a while since I last saw you, Someya.”
“You’re one to talk,” Someya says, clearing his throat when his voice pitches up on his own arousal. In a crisp, white shirt tucked into black slacks, he seems casual, younger now. The stiff, white suits and slicked-back hair were too reminiscent of Nishiki, anyway. Someya’s always been unreadable to Kiryu, even in the face of trauma. Even Someya’s most explicit vulnerability seems misted over, somehow, his true nature hidden in a fog behind a facsimile of control.
Ultimately, Kiryu decided he’d liked him.
Murder attempt aside. All that desperation, all that primordial need to protect enough that he would resort to murder, was for Kiyomi. Kiyomi, who no longer loved him and who had left him. Even so, Someya had imbued her value into his heart, had ascribed it more important than his own freedom, his own life.
Someya probably knew he could have never won against him.
That kind of selflessness is an attribute of the most noble.
Kiryu hasn’t thought about Someya in a while. He tries not to ascertain his motives. Considering that it ultimately equated to a useless exercise, a practice in grief. He’s done it enough with Nishiki, with Ryuji, with all those lost souls of the past. You can’t bring them back.
Well, maybe he was wrong.
The fact that Someya’s alive—and sitting in the leather booth with its violet-mahogany cushions, arms resting on either knee—only adds to his general mystique. All the introspection and cross-examination in the world couldn’t have prepared Kiryu to see him again.
Not that Kiryu’s unhappy to see him, though. The familiarity of someone usually incites anxiety now, given Kiryu’s penchant for anonymity in order to secure Haruka’s lasting serenity.
But with Someya, all connections to the past are moot. Right?
Two ghosts drinking together.
“You’re supposed to be dead,” Someya says.
“Hmm, so are you.”
Kiryu sits beside him.
“...You didn’t seek me out, did you?”
Someya spreads his legs. Presses his thigh to Kiryu’s.
“Just a happy coincidence. Pour me a drink, bunny, would you?”
Still as bratty as ever, though.
It’s expensive whiskey but Kiryu knows Someya can buy it.
“Relax,” Someya instructs, watching with hooded eyes as the muscles of Kiryu’s back, revealed in the one-piece bunny suit, ripple under the low, golden lighting of the club. “I won’t drag you into anything. Just like you, I’m trying to escape the past.”
Kiryu visibly deflates at that, and drops a spherical ball of ice into his drink with tongs from the bucket.
“You did it in the wrong order.”
Kiryu blinks a few times. Then processes what he says and hands him the fingers of whiskey.
“Give me a break, I just started.”
“You look adorable.”
Kiryu leans back in the booth. “I didn’t know you were into men, Someya.”
Someya’s grin is almost mean-looking. He brings the Hibiki to his lips and then nods towards the empty glass Kiryu brought with him.
“Drink with me.”
Kiryu thanks him, pouring himself a drink as well. The music over the speakers is light and ambient and smooth, the same sound of the whiskey pouring into the glass. After ice, this time.
“Spent so much time at these kinds of clubs, figured it’d be a good way for me to survive. I have a lot of experience in this industry, believe it or not.”
“As a patron?”
Kiryu nods.
“Who would have thought? Kiryu paying for company. You could get anyone you wanted. And you did, if I remember the rumors correctly.”
“Mmh,” Kiryu leans back. The whiskey is good and sweet, notes of honey and apple on his tongue. “There’s a disconnect in these places. When you’re severed from the personal relationships. You enter here and who you are outside of it is irrelevant. You can just exist with someone pretty for a while. Isn’t that why you’re here?”
Someya leans in. He can smell Kiryu’s cologne.
The slacks he’s wearing do little to hide how interested he really is.
“Someya,” Kiryu whispers, eyes dropping to his lips. Someya’s moving closer, now, his neatly groomed brows knitted as if in concentration.
“I was wrong, that time.”
“...Hm?”
“About the tattoos. About them being symbols of the past. Irrelevant.”
Kiryu’s thigh twitches whenever Someya’s hand comes up to stroke at the skin there. Clutches at the side of his thigh, over a leather garter on his leg. Playing cards are tucked into a small pouch. His thumb traces the hint of ink peeking out from the underside of his leg, a thumbnail pressing into the dragon’s fierce claw.
His fingers begin to push at where Kiryu’s thigh is squished up firmly against the leather of the booth.
“Someya,” Kiryu repeats, his voice hitching as Someya leans in closer. Kiryu’s heart is pounding, remembering the intensity of their past camaraderie, the sauna room, the bar. All that glistening skin and shattered glass, the edge of Someya’s katana. He doesn’t move away, though. Instructs, as firm as he can as he’s stroked, “...No touching the bunnies.”
*
There are rules inside the club.
Outside, things are different. Even if it’s only outside the back doorway.
“Your pussy’s so wet,” Someya says, grinning up from between the apex of thick thighs wrapped in those pretty garters that he refuses to unstrap, the knees of his slacks damp from the puddle where he’s kneeling in. The back of the club leads to the sleepy, silent alleyways of Hiroshima’s beach town, the low streetlights casting them in a tangerine, stagnant glow. Rainfall from the night before does not deter him from getting down for Kiryu.
It may be a public space, but in this tight corner of the streets, they’re hidden by the jut of a buzzing vending machine, polychromatic juice bottles glowing behind LED lights, making Someya’s pale skin take up the rainbow shine of the labels.
The bunny suit’s on but the bottom’s pulled aside, revealing Kiryu’s cunt. That was a surprise, too, but Someya’s not complaining, lips pressed in a smile to his pussy as he eats.
Kiryu’s really wet for someone his age, dripping like an over-sexed college student. It squelches with the movements of his mouth, the hot slide of Someya’s tongue making Kiryu grunt, making him huff, his pussy sloppy and noisy. Kiryu’s palms come up to trap the whimpers behind them, but it doesn’t do much. Anyone could walk over and see them. Even though the town is small, even though they’re in this private corner of the alley—
Ah, who’s he kidding?
It’s only making him hornier.
Someya smacks his lips and Kiryu throws a leg around his shoulder, hauls him closer with the back of his black heel pressing into Someya’s spine.
“Been a while?” Someya asks when he pulls away, tilting his head. There’s a pleased squint in his normally serious eyes, giving Kiryu the impression that, like himself, he has abandoned the seriousness of reality. They’re alone together, drifting away from the yakuza history of responsibility, of loyalty, of dedication.
Free to do whatever they want, even something as slutty as this.
He’s hard in his pants, his cock prevalent through his slacks, laid up against his thigh. Someya likes them older—his ex-wife was, too. Likes taking control of a desperate, beautiful adult in the autumn of their lives, guiding them and fucking them wet and loose. Making them relive their youth. Besides, they know better, they’re seasoned and sexier. Someya’s always liked his teachers, his superiors.
Someya’s teeth glint wetly against his pussy lips with his grin, and then they part. Catches the blood-swollen nub of Kiryu’s clitoris.
He nibbles gently against it, watches as Kiryu slumps against the wall and gasps. His chin tilts down to his chest, where the slopes of his pretty cleavage push up from where the suit cups his pecs, creating a facsimile of breasts.
His eyelashes flash momentarily with that sunset glint of the streetlights above as they lower. His skin is layered with a light flush of goosebumps from the breeze, where summer is dying off.
Someya rakes his short nails up his thighs, dragging over the thin fabric of the stockings, eliciting a shiver from his bunny boy, and then suckles at his clit, eyes holding Kiryu’s gaze. Kiryu is twitching in his mouth, flush both with arousal and a shyness that’s characteristic of him.
For all his time on earth experiencing the biggest and strangest arrays of individuals, Kiryu still gets flustered, still has that virgin-like nature of thirty years ago when someone’s gazing at him this way. He may work in a bunny suit, but Someya has the eyes of a predator. There’s something intimidating, a magnetic pull, Kiryu frozen as Someya licks between his folds, as he nurses at his clit.
He knows what he’s doing.
“You’re good at this,” Kiryu’s voice is huffy, words broken as it cracks. He slides his fingers through his hair, tugs Someya forward, the stiff gel in his palms good for purchase as he pushes down against his maw. Someya’s tongue is so hot and wet, slicking up between him and into him.
“ Hnn… ” Kiryu groans as the muscle works up into his channel. He tightens, rolls his hips. “Eat it, Someya.”
Someya’s jaw aches a little as he’s guided, his mouth pressed firmly to his bunny’s cunt, as Kiryu rubs in little circles.
It’s a powerplay between them. Someya’s experience and Kiryu’s demand.
When Someya’s breath is too humid and stifling against his thighs, when Someya’s cheeks are hot and pink, he pulls away, pushing against Kiryu’s grip.
Strings of spit and Kiryu’s fluids string pretty like threads between Someya’s lips and chin, connecting him to Kiryu’s tight pussy.
“You taste good.”
Kiryu’s throbbing, feeling so empty, so wet. Ready to be fucked full.
He reaches down and parts his pussy with two fingers, showing off the gape that’s already wet and prepped, puffy with need.
“Fill it up, Someya,” Kiryu says breathlessly.
Massaging his clit with his thumb now, Someya doesn’t make a move, staying kneeling on the concrete, dirtying his slacks, his jawline smelling of Kiryu’s sex. His brows are low, his eyes challenging.
“Beg me, bunny. Show off a little and I might.”
Kiryu’s heart is pounding. His leg is still slung over Someya’s shoulder, but he pulls it away, lets go of his cunt.
“You’re so demanding,” Kiryu whispers, then leans forward, as if to survey the back of the club. There’s no one around, not even footsteps on the main streets, not even the rolling of tires. He looks back to Someya’s smug expression.
He turns around, presses his palms to the damp brick, and arches his back.
“Ah, fuck,” Someya whispers, thumbs crawling up his hamstrings, before he takes two handfuls of the ass in front of him. “That’s what I like to see. What a perfect little slut you can be.”
Kiryu’s face is hot but he wants it—wants it so bad from someone he knows, someone unhinged and smug, someone who eyes him like a piece of meat but knows just how capable he is. It means bravery. It means an ego.
Someya knows what a beast he is and still grants himself access to his pussy. Still sees him as a perfect, touchable slut despite everything they’ve endured.
No anonymity of the past but a meaninglessness of the moment, where two people have been reduced to ghosts, tied up in sexuality that ultimately equates to a known intensity without the risk of lasting strings.
After this, there is nothing left but more sex.
Someya and him have the chemistry of battle—Kiryu already knows he’ll get the satisfaction of his physical capability before it’s started.
It makes him hornier, needier.
He wants Someya stuffed inside of him. Wants him to take him and fill him and pin him tight with hands that are just as brutal as they are soothing, wants to make him forget everything but the adrenaline of their bodies working together.
Someya grabs the puff attached to his suit, as if he’s really got a rabbit tail to squeeze. Tugs the back of the suit aside once more to see the globes of his tattooed ass, the elegant dragon he’s already groped inked ornately over his skin. A symbol of tolerance and capability, each drop of ink a stroke of pain he’s endured.
A testament to his power.
Isn’t that exciting in itself? Reducing this dragon with his rippling golden muscles and the symbolism on his skin to nothing but a bunny craving sex—dark, intense eyes needlessly dewy as he glances over a shoulder that’s built from lifting motorcycles and human bodies with ease.
A doll, a beast—he’s so gorgeous, it almost hurts to look at him.
Someya knows just how powerful he is, how violent he can become. He wants to tame him. Wants to make this ethereal creature that may as well have fangs and scales like his own tattoo bend to him.
“Look at this ass,” Someya hisses, gripping harder, fingers digging into the skin until it hurts, until the bronze of it between the gaps of ukiyo-e style art take up the redness of being spanked. “You’re so hungry for it. An ass like this is made to be fucked, you know? Can’t walk around like this without expecting every guy who sees it to want to breed you.”
“ Hnngh ,” Kiryu presses his cheekbone against the scrape of the brick and nods, eyes sealing shut tight. He pushes back against the erection trapped in his slacks.
“Your ass is so big.”
Kiryu hears the sound of teeth delicately peeling down his zipper. Then he feels it—Someya’s cock is slippery with pre-cum, hard and thick. He looks over his shoulder to catch a glance of it and sees the violet flush of it, hard and thick. He pushes back on instinct, rubbing hard. Wants to feel the underside of it scrape against his puffy asshole, wants to take it inside of him.
Someya seems to understand the need and he holds either cheek apart, slotting his cock up against his ass, rubbing off between the firm muscles of his asscheeks.
“Goddamn,” Someya hisses through grit teeth, running a hand through his hair to keep it off his forehead, the sweat beading at his hairline despite the tepid weather, the light breeze that carries the salty smell of Kiryu’s skin to his nose. Perfume and the sea. “Your hole is twitching against me. You want it so bad, don’t you? Or do you want it in your pussy?”
“Please,” Kiryu gasps, reaching down to play with his own clit, “Please. Anywhere. Just—I want it in me. I want you to fill me up.”
“I bet. This slutty outfit, this whorish job. You can claim to be a professional, getting paid in cash to maintain anonymity, but I know better.”
Teeth dig into the meat of his trap muscles and Someya bites down hard. Kiryu arches, throws his head back, produces a sound like a wounded animal and fucks against the erection more.
“You’ve been waiting for something like this. An old man like you, still so fucking sexy—I know your type. You want to be used and fucked. You want to be touched and bred like a little slut . That’s what’s got you dressing like this.”
With each word, his thrusting gets more intense, like he can get off on the meat of his ass gripping up the sides of his shaft alone.
He probably could.
But Kiryu’s getting desperate, squirmy.
His arms are trembling, just slightly, and the back of his neck is taking up a light sheen of perspiration that makes the boyish cut of his hairline shimmer. Someya licks at it, tastes the scent of sea salt on his tongue now. Kiryu seems imbued with sunshine, all that time in Onomichi caught in his skin.
“If that’s what you think, then put it in me, and prove it.”
“Don’t need to tell me twice.”
Someya leans back, holding himself by the base of his dick. When he pumps his cock, he can hear the wet sound of his own pre-jizz slicking to his balls. He rubs the head at Kiryu’s pink, puffy rim, and circles it. His piss slit spits out another jut of pre-cum and it catches inside of Kiryu’s winking hole, swallowing it up.
Watches with a smirk as it twitches around him, as if Kiryu’s body knows what it wants.
“Look at that… what a needy little asshole.”
When Someya shoves forward, there isn’t enough lube but he takes it like a champ, anyway. His body swallows up the length of the first inches of his cock easily, pre-cum giving the way for the inside of Kiryu’s burning-tight hole. Kiryu’s jaw drops open and his breath catches in his throat, a silent groan caught somewhere between his tongue and the air as he’s pierced through with the jut of his cock.
Someya, for his part, drops his head between those shoulder blades. Smells the leather of his suit, the scent of his own cock mixing with the musk of the body odor permeating past his perfume. Armpits wet, his thighs sweaty, the suit becoming a little uncomfortable on his skin.
Someya holds himself there for a moment, panting, the crisp shirt he was wearing now untucked and the slacks halfway down his thighs, his hands on the bunny boy’s hips as he feels the throbbing heat around him. Counts his own heartbeats, and then sinks in fully, a hard thrust forward. Both of them groan in tandem as he shoves himself deep, as his cockhead fits snugly, until his balls are throbbing.
If he could, Someya would shove those in, too.
He bites at the back of Kiryu’s ear.
“I’ve wanted this so long,” Someya admits, beginning to pull out. Kiryu’s hole tugs around it, trying to suck him back in, and Someya’s hands crawl from his hips to grope at the muscles of his ass again. Holds him open and looks down. Despite the dim lighting of the flickering street light, moths playing in the glow, he watches the slimy length of his dick peel out of his rim. They’re connected and slick, and Someya thumbs at the clutch of his asshole around his length.
“Fucking tight,” he says, “Look how bad it wants dick.”
“Yeah,” Kiryu agrees, his voice that low rumble that rakes shivers down Someya’s spine. “Been needing dick.”
“Any dick? You whore.”
A grin, a bit cheeky, and he glances over his shoulder.
“You jealous?”
Someya wets his lips, fucks forward, his balls slapping against Kiryu’s ass.
“Maybe a little. If I’d known you were here, I’d have come sooner.”
“You like me that much?”
Someya fucks him harder now, each thrust slapping noisily. His arms crawl around Kiryu’s built waist and he hauls him into a hug, pressing himself over the taller, older man as he humps his ass like a dog.
“Hard to forget a man you fought in your underwear.”
Kiryu grins in satisfaction, rolling his hips back against him. He’s so wet that his inner thighs feel damp, like after a workout in compression shorts. He wants to touch his clit so bad, but he’s not ready to cum yet. Not yet. Not until he gets filled with cum and hears Someya’s satisfied groans, the sound of a man ten years younger than him satisfied by his body.
He rucks his hips back, fucking him the same way Someya’s fucking him. Begins rolling his hips. Knows what he’s doing, and revels in the panting by his ear, the breath brushing his neck.
“You sound so cute, Someya.”
It’s purposefully condescending, made to make Someya feel even more inexperienced. Kiryu knows that’s what gets to him.
“Going to cum? Going to shove your load inside my ass?” Kiryu’s voice is a little broken, his own breathing stuttering like Someya’s hips. “Go on. Get me all fucked up—”
But Someya isn’t about to lose to him.
His arms unlock from his waist and Kiryu can breathe momentarily, feeling the air rush to his diaphragm.
Suddenly, too suddenly, Someya pulls out of his ass. Kiryu gasps, his hole flexing, empty save for the pre-cum making his hole shine lewdly.
“No—Someya—cum inside me, cum inside me—”
His thigh is hoisted up with a strong forearm and Kiryu purchases himself with his hands flat on the brick, hips pushed out.
“What’re you—”
“Hold that pretty pussy open.”
“O-oh,” Kiryu’s trembling hand moves as if robotically, as if compelled by Someya’s input, and he spreads his lips. Tilts his hips back for ease of access.
When Someya pushes into his pussy, it’s much easier to slide in that the tight clutch of his ass, all that slick and prep leading the way. Kiryu’s so fucking horny. Kiryu groans, Someya fucking with a brutality like a dog, as if he’s trying to breed him up, pump him full of his pups.
Kiryu can feel it in his abdomen, a pressure growing behind his navel. With his leg lifted, he almost feels like he needs to piss, and then Someya’s other hand is creeping around his waist once more. He whispers, “You’re really like a bunny, you know? Desperate prey, ready to breed. And it helps that you’re so cute…”
Someya, that predator that hunted Kiryu before, mates with him now. His hips stutter forward a few times and then he’s slamming home, his dick fully buried inside of Kiryu’s cunt as he cums. Seals his eyes shut, a pretty, stern face morphed into the blissed-out and debauched blush he never lets many see. Fills up that pussy raw.
He likes it—likes fucking the slick cunts of people that can’t have kids at their age, people who can have loads dumped in them over and over with no risk. He can keep them sloppy and wet all the time, can keep them dripping gooey.
“I’m gonna—I’m gonna keep doing this… Okay?” Someya’s rubbing his clit in circles as he feels out the wet slickness of his own cum leaking around him, coating his shaft, Kiryu’s body clenching up around him. It’s dripping past his opening, down his balls. “I’m gonna keep creaming up this pussy of yours until you can’t go without it.”
“Good,” Kiryu sighs, almost inaudibly, “Good. I want it. I want to be full with cum, until it aches. Just keep me warm, okay, Someya?”
And then he’s cumming, too. Someya’s massaging his pussy, massaging the orgasm right out of him, and Kiryu’s dripping, pushing out the cum that’s already inside of him around the cock stuffing him full. Splatters the ground beneath him with the force of it.
“Ah…” Someya says pleasantly, hot face buried against Kiryu’s blushing profile, “You drank a lot of scotch, didn’t you? You’re squirting so much. I bet it feels good to let it all go.”
Kiryu nods, wordless, breathless, his insides clenching until Someya’s cock slips out of him with the force of their combined orgasms.
“ Hah… ” Someya gasps, letting go of his sore thigh. He slaps the dragon on his ass and then licks a stripe up Kiryu’s spine, hot spit ticklish and slimy until it’s sealed off with a kiss at his clean hairline. Kiryu flops against the wall, his fingertips pressed into the brick, eyelids lowered, a high blush on his face. Between his legs, his pussy’s still dripping Someya’s spend, clenching up around where he’s now gaping, both his ass and cunt used.
“You don’t let other customers do this, do you?”
Kiryu shakes his head sleepily. Someya starts tucking his cock away, shoving his now-wrinkled shirt into the waistband.
“Good,” Someya says, “I’ve always been a bit of the possessive type.”
“Plan on making me your next wife…?” Kiryu asks, too tired to sound playful, but Someya catches the smirk on his swollen, spit-slicked lips, flashing gold in the streetlight, the only voyeur besides the night sky stretching starry above them.
“Maybe,” Someya says, tugging the suit back into place, over his sopping pussy. He doesn’t miss the opportunity to drag his middle finger between his slit slowly, grinning at the way Kiryu shivers. “I wouldn’t be opposed to another marriage.”