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Lupin fucks you like you're precious.
That's not to say, he isn't tenacious about it.
Jigen groans as the thief’s dulled nails card across his chest, digging lightly as his skin as a calloused thumb curls against his nipple. He arches into it with a choked pant, willing for more than a light tap. The world around him is a bleak blur of lights and sensations as Lupin pressed another hungry kiss against his throat. Teeth gliding against the skin only to nip lightly against his jugular.
"Jigen," is moaned somewhere near his ear as the gunman's hands grip a little tighter onto Lupin’s hips. "Fuck, Jigen," Lupin whispers.
Never one for much talk, Jigen manages a grunt between chasing the thief’s hips with his own. Meeting the man halfway with every thrust. He watches as Lupin’s back muscles ripple, his chest expanding against Jigen’s own. When the thief’s hands press against the gunman, they stick like blood against his skin.
His partner was already damn worked up when they started this. If it wasn't for the fact that Jigen’s well aware of Lupin's appetite for this, he'd be wondering how the hell the man's keeping this up. But, as the thief’s cock rubs up against Jigen’s stomach, sending a jolt through Lupin’s form, he does think they're nearing the end of this little performance.
Lupin tightens around him, and it's all the gunman can do to keep his sanity.
"Arséne." Jigen huffs, watching as the thief comes up from the gunman's throat. Unformed words on his lips as he switches to gripping the sheets instead of Jigen’s chest.
"Yes- ah," he whines, "Daisuke?" Popping an eye lazily open.
The gunman makes a choked noise, running his hands across Lupin’s thighs until he's cupping the man's ass. Squeezing and lifting to get a better angle. When Lupin obliges and presses up against his chest, Jigen doesn't wait.
He presses into the thief’s shoulder and loses himself. Roughly thrusting into Lupin as the man pants beside him. "Daisuke, ah-"
Jigen’s well aware how close Lupin is as the thief weakly rocks back. Cock throbbing between their stomachs, getting the mildest of sensations. It must be enough to drive Lupin nuts as he tries to arch into Jigen’s own member further. Muttering French under his breath as the gunman fucks him.
A mewl escapes the lithe man as Jigen pounds him, digits digging into the sheets and tangling. The gunman's still chasing his own release as Lupin moans into Jigen’s chest and spills between them. Cumming between needy bucks of his hips. Jigen slows, letting Lupin ride out his orgasm. Resisting the urge to keep up his previous pace as the thief tightens around him in waves.
His hips stutter as the thief slumps over his front. Sticky, hot skin, cooling as Lupin pants.
Jigen shifts, moving to pull out, only for Lupin to follow. "Wait," the man starts in between breaths.
The gunman pauses, evaluating the mess of a man before him. "You alright?"
The half lidded eyes and extensive blush are what Jigen gets initially as a response. "Keep going."
If Jigen were wearing his hat, Lupin wouldn't have been privy to the raised eyebrow he's met with.
The thief whines, rocking back onto Jigen’s member, the flicker of something running up his spine as it presses against his prostate. "I need more," he pants once, regaining his breath. "Fuck me, Jigen."
The gunman remains silent for a moment, but he doesn't argue. Flipping them around and wiping the cum from his stomach with a tissue that disappears into the abyss of the penthouse suite.
Lupin gazes up at the other man with hazy eyes, head pressed into the pillows as his arms reach up, tangling against the sides of Jigen’s face. Tickling the inside of the thief’s forearms as he wraps his hands behind the man's head.
If it were someone else, Jigen might feel like he's been snared, trapped, but it's not, it's Lupin.
The thief’s cock is already starting to harden back up as Jigen presses a kiss against the wiry man's lips. The lingering taste of tobacco between the two of them. The bite of Marlboro's in contrast to the sweet tang of Lupin’s Gitanes.
Jigen shudders as he presses back into Lupin, the feeling of heat pooling in his gut returning quickly.
He snaps his hips forward, setting his rhythm again as Lupin holds him there. Keeping Jigen squarely in his sights as he tosses his head back. Moaning as he snakes a hand between them and grasps his own dick. Lazily stroking himself as that blush creeps back up from his neck.
The thief grits his teeth as he arches in the slightest, a small gasp escaping him as Jigen’s hips stutter again. Losing himself as he groans.
It won't take much, he's sensitive as it is.
The gunman pants, "Lupin, fuck." He ruts, pushing Lupin’s hips down further. "I can't-"
"Daisuke," the thief pants.
The gunman slams into Lupin with a moan, rolling his hips with his release as the thief manages his second orgasm. Grasping the base of his cock as his vision blots out, he's pretty sure Jigen just had a hand in short-circuiting his brain.
Lupin gasps as he comes down, Jigen’s form leaning across his front as the gunman pants. Placing a too gentle kiss against the thief’s collarbone.
Lupin fucks you like you're precious, Jigen muses, a single eye cracking open. Like you're made of the brightest sapphires and glistening rubies.
As if you are a treasure all his own.
…
Jigen wakes up briefly, a single eye glaring outward at the sunlight, catching the blurry image of a red jacket moving around. He watches the jacket with interest for a few moments, tracking it as Lupin circles back to the bed, grabbing something off the nightstand.
He's not sure if the other man's aware he's awake. It's very possible he is, as that award-winning grin crosses Lupin’s face for a moment. Gray eyes resting on Jigen’s halfway hidden form.
It's the last image that the gunman remembers when he comes around a second time.
Wholly aware that he's alone in the all too large bed.
The feeling that comes with that isn't disheartening necessarily, he's woken up alone plenty of times. Over the years, sometimes he is more happy waking up alone. Even if on occasion he does miss the feeling of Lupin plastered against his back. Or getting kicked in the ribs randomly in the middle of the night.
But, alone, means he can stretch out fully, his joints popping as he does so. The burn in his thighs reminds him briefly of last night's activities.
Activities that are making Jigen’s mind think.
He sort of wishes they were making him think more of how Lupin’s tongue had felt against the head of his cock. Something that stirs inside Jigen like a flickering flame. A thought that lingers long enough for Jigen to run a rough hand over his morning erection.
Lingering over the head and pressing his thumb there. A poor imitation of the real thing but enough to make his hips cant upward.
He strokes himself slowly, the fresh memory of the thief doing the same thing to him last night a tingle against his skull. Lupin’s cock moving beside his own with fervent bucks as the man jacked them both off. Somewhere in there the man had decided to fuck himself with his fingers, grabbing Jigen’s own and pressing them into his entrance with a choked moan.
Jigen pauses at that, gripping the base of his cock and adjusting himself. Pushing himself into his fist as past Lupin eases himself onto the gunman's cock. Jigen’s head caught on the tight ring of muscle, making the dark haired man moan.
Lupin had been just loose enough to take Jigen. The key word being 'just' as Jigen had eased into the man.
The gunman feels his cock pulse, slowing as the sensation racks through him. Teetering on the edge before deciding that he's not in this for the long con. He picks up the pace, the memory of Lupin moaning his name as he'd cum around Jigen’s cock enough to get him over the edge. Thrusting roughly in his fist as cum leaks onto his stomach.
God, Lupin is an addiction.
One that Jigen’s not in the mood to quit anytime soon.
He tosses the blankets aside and cleans himself up, hopping in the porn set-esque shower. Letting the water wash away all the sweat and grime on his skin.
When he removes himself from the warm water he's left with the rest of his memories from last night. Mainly Lupin’s… mood. By how out of the ordinary the thief’s been acting lately.
Lupin has always been insatiable, as well as having a refractory period that’s nonexistent, but it’s not often that he’s borderline begging for it. At least, not like that anyway.
Ever since the man came back from France, he’s been acting… odd, somewhat distracted. Jigen’s not sure if he should pin all of it on certain new revelations to the thief, or if Lupin’s just… being Lupin.
The gunman stirs under the covers, twisting beneath them as he picks up a hint of the man’s cologne lingering. A different sort of calling card that just has Jigen coming back for more every time without fail. He flops over onto his stomach as he takes a breath, the scent sticking to one of the pillows. It reminds Jigen briefly that without Lupin, he often feels like a shadow in the desert. As if the object that would cast a shadow is gone. Leaving him an exposed rarity among the pale sands.
He tosses the covers back with that thought, the cool air hitting his skin as he stands, looking around for where his suit ended up last night.
Lupin had been rather insistent last night.
Setting himself in Jigen’s lap and straddling the dark haired man. His tie askew and the scent of alcohol on his breath. Lupin had looked the part of a drunken flirt as he pressed his lips to the gunman’s throat, effectively pulling him from the article he’d been reading previously.
Jigen sets the memory aside as he grabs his suit jacket from the floor. Brushing the thing off and silently mourning the creases that formed overnight. Even if he has several others that are nearly the exact same thing, he has been fond of this one.
Lupin likes his sports jackets, Jigen likes his dark suits, together, they are quite the spectacle.
A red herring and its ever present shadow.
So, what does a shadow do without its caster?
Jigen’s well aware that the penthouse is all his until the end of the month. He’s also aware, as he plucks the transceiver from his jacket pocket, that he’s supposed to keep an eye on Lupin in case something goes wrong.
Whatever that may be.
He stares at the blank screen, thumb hovering over the power button as he considers turning it on. Lupin had just left this morning, and he does trust the man, more than he’ll ever admit, but still, he’s gripped by a sort of possessiveness, if you could call it that. Maybe concern is a better word. Lupin acting odd maybe isn't something to be too concerned about, however… however. Jigen huffs, stuffing the transceiver back into his jacket pocket. He’ll check it later, Lupin usually takes a minute before getting into actual trouble.
The gunman sets about picking his clothes off the floor, digging around until he finally finds his underwear. Having been tossed under the bed and out of sight sometime during their escapade.
Possibly after Lupin practically flew out of his clothes.
Now that was a spectacle to see.
Jigen dresses, all too aware of the silence of the house as he does. He's used to some level of background noise, typically. Either the comings and goings of the city outside or one of his partners babbling in his ear as he does… well, anything, really. Goemon was quiet, sure, but sometimes you could get him rambling about something. Or maybe it was just the samurai’s presence that brought a certain volume with him.
Idly, Jigen eyes the spot he’d seen some sort of puzzle box earlier, at the time uncertain whether it was part of the decor or not. As he stares at the empty space where it once was, he’s still not entirely convinced it wasn’t. Despite that little tug against his ribs that tells him otherwise.
If Lupin needs him, the thief will let him know.
Until then, he’ll wait for that signal to come.
…
Jigen’s no stranger to going from five-star accommodations to dirty alleyways. He's fairly comfortable in both. The penthouse had been too quiet these last few days. A silence settling into Jigen’s bones.
Although, here, near his home turf, he's both exposed and in comfortable safety. People are more aware of him here, know his face, his style, with that comes the casualness of lesser threats scattering as he walks the empty street. However, there is always the risk of someone hoping to get a leg up in the world by taking him out.
Tonight, he's not too worried about it as he stalks to the back entrance of the bar. His eyes catching the light of a car driving by, the shadows stretching behind him as it passes. He flicks his cigarette off into the damp rocks and strides in.
A bouncer who's been lounging on a tiny tea table startles as the door opens. Eyes wide until he spots the hat and quickly diverts his gaze. This bar's been a favorite of Jigen’s for years now, the servers practically know him by his first name. They sure as hell know Lupin to be a frequent visitor as well. He imagines it's a big non-event that he’s here, but what might be curious is the lack of red jacket beside him.
He gets his usual and heads up to the roof, eyeing the empty tables doused in a light dusting of rain.
Here he can hear the noise of the bar below, as well as the ever existent traffic that exists in this city. The sound is soothing in a way that an empty penthouse certainly isn’t. Again, he finds himself brushing his fingers across the transceiver in his jacket pocket. Diverting their trajectory until he’s plucked the cigarettes from his coat pocket. Popping one in his mouth and shuffling for his lighter. When he does find it, an already lit one appears right in front of his face.
Jigen’s already drawing his magnum before the end of his cigarette even gets lit.
Whirling around and shoving the barrel of the gun into the chest of the man behind him. A snarl filled with smoke across his face as he stares down at a bemused expression attached to a man with fluffy hair.
The gun is removed from the other man’s ribs.
“King,” the gunman drawls, blowing smoke across the figure’s expression.
King coughs, waving the offending exhalation away from his face and backing up. “Daisuke,” the man hacks, grin coming back.
Jigen sneers, the corners of his mouth twitching in annoyance. “The hell are you doing here?”
The shorter man tilts his head, shoving his hands in his pockets. “I can’t come out here to talk to an old friend?”
“We’re not old friends.”
There’s a flicker of something that flows across the man’s eyes, “A lot of my old friends say that. How’s your gun treating you these days?”
A growl makes its way up the gunman’s throat.
“I’d be happy to make a trade for that thing, or your boyfriend’s Walther for that matter.”
“I’m not looking to make a trade.” Jigen remarks, moving to brush off one of the chairs. If there’s one thing that he can count on with King, it’s that the man is pretty much harmless. Most of the time. He’s not a backstabber like Fujiko, nor is he some mercenary for hire. Actually, Jigen’s not entirely sure what King is, but the man deals in information. Thus, it does pay to talk to the man, and talking is how King makes most of his money anyway.
The other man snaps his fingers dispassionately, “Damn, here I was hoping I’d finally get my hands on one of those weapons.” Sarcasm litters the statement as King moves to sit across from the gunman. “So, I’ve been hearing things recently.”
“You do that a lot.”
“Ha ha, very funny, Daisuke.” King pointedly ignores the way Jigen’s teeth snap. “I’ve been hearing that you and Lupin are in a long distance relationship.”
Jigen raises a brow, a lone eye exposing itself in the dim light, “What’s that supposed to mean?”
King leans forward, pressing his fingers against the table. “Why’s Lupin poking around the Talon?”
The gunman straightens in the slightest, “The Talon?” For a moment, Jigen's mind dances around the file he'd been presented with in the safe house. Rocambole... the Talon... shit. He’d thought that the name sounded familiar.
The shorter man perks up, latching onto Jigen’s minor confusion, “So you two are separated.” An actual growl rips through Jigen, one that makes King back off with a start. “I get it, the divorce is rough-”
“-stop that,” The gunman gripes, “What have you been hearing, King?”
Owlish eyes aim across the roof before darting back to Jigen. “News is a little scattered, you know how it is, anything Lupin does gets people talking. I heard recently that an informant ended up in close quarters with Lupin the Third, he was asking questions about where the Talon did business, stuff like that. Heard he made himself known at one of their cabins. Didn’t think your partner had an interest in stealing from the weapons trade?”
Jigen gnaws on the end of his cigarette, regarding the man before him with a predatory gaze. “When?”
King merely shrugs, “I didn’t get any exact dates, Jigen, might have been last week? What’s he after?”
“Nothing,” he leans back, taking a drag off his smoke. “I don’t think he’s there to rob them if that’s what you’re worried about.”
The shorter man lifts a brow, “You two are pretty inseparable, I’m surprised you don’t know what he’s up to.”
Jigen snorts, a huff escaping him. They are often by each other’s side, even if Jigen knows Lupin can take care of himself, there is a part of him that sort of worries about the other man. Lupin is fickle. The thief is the only man who has ever remained beside Jigen this long, stood the test of time with such tenacity. Together, they’re like-minded and entangled in ways that cannot be described in words that Jigen understands.
What he does understand, though, is that Lupin loves in a million different languages. All of them as complicated and outrageous as the man himself. With that, it sometimes seems that Lupin loves nothing and everything at the same time. But, Jigen’s never been one to question the loyalty between them. He already knows what’s between him and Lupin.
“Are you calling me a tag along, King?” Jigen remarks.
The other man grins, tilting his head to the side with half-lidded eyes. “A hanger on? Never. I’m just worried that my favorite criminal duo is breaking up.”
Jigen merely grunts in response, “I don’t know why he’s poking around Talon, he’s got something going on that he hasn’t told anyone.” The whites of his eyes catch in the light, glinting as he levels with the man before him. “If Lupin hasn’t told me anything, then there’s a reason he hasn’t, I wouldn’t stick your nose in it, King”
A hum escapes the man, leaning back in his own chair and drumming his fingers on the table. “Then I should expect to see something spectacular in the news in the coming months?”
The gunman laughs grimly, “Keep your ear to the ground, and you might catch something.”
The corner of King’s mouth twitches, moving to stand, “I’ll keep myself updated, see you around, Coyote.” The other man waves as he turns, setting off again as quickly as he appeared.
However, as King walks down the stairs, another figure brushes past him, a rather familiar one that has Jigen’s shoulders tensing.
The brim of a brown hat follows King’s movements as he disappears down the stairs, Zenigata’s eyes only making themselves known as soon as he looks up to see Jigen.
“Coyote?” The Inspector starts, making his way up the last few steps.
Jigen sets his jaw, snuffing his cigarette in the ashtray, “Are you here to arrest me?”
Zenigata remains silent for a moment, eyes locked on the gunman’s form until he diverts them. “I don’t know any active criminals by the name of ‘Coyote’.”
The gunman huffs, “Then why are you talking to someone named ‘Coyote’?”
“Because he might know where Lupin is.”
Jigen sighs, sagging over the back of his chair, “How much of that conversation did you hear?”
The Inspector shrugs, standing before the other man with an inquisitive, hardened gaze. “That Lupin hasn’t told you anything, the news bit, is there something I should have heard?”
“Nothing that matters,” the dark haired man replies, angling his head to look at Zenigata better. “How’d you track me down?” Idly, Jigen thinks he already knows the answer as he replays the amount of times he’s been to this specific bar.
“I was following King.”
Okay, maybe Jigen doesn’t know the answer. “King? Why were you following him?”
“I had a feeling about him.”
Jigen’s only slightly grateful that his hat obscures the way he rolls his eyes. “Do you have a feeling on where Lupin is?”
Zenigata’s face scrunches, “He left New York.”
The gunman hums, reaching for the tumbler that’d been placed to the side of the table. Remaining silent on the matter. Which is probably all the confirmation that Zenigata really needs.
The taller man’s shoulders drop, “You don’t know where he went.”
Jigen merely takes a drink of his scotch, savoring the taste before swallowing and placing the glass back down.
Finally, after looming over Jigen like some sort of dark storm cloud, Zenigata sits down across from the gunman. Dropping into the seat that King had occupied not a moment ago. “If you care about him at all, you should help me find him.” The officer tries, the words lacking a sort of conviction. As if he already knows the answer Jigen’s going to give him. Despite that, there is a lick of humor under his tone.
One that draws a smirk across Jigen’s face, before it’s quickly wiped away into his glass with another sip of his drink. The thing is… the thing is that he does have a way of finding Lupin. What more is that Jigen will admit to feeling slightly worried about the thief’s activities. The Talon wasn’t really an organization to be trifled with. If King was right- which he often was -then Lupin might be painting a target on his back. A target that might grow if Jigen were to show up.
If there’s one thing he can trust Zenigata to do, it’s to not hurt Lupin. It’s old news if Zenigata shows up following Lupin.
Jigen reaches into his jacket, brushing up against the transceiver, hitting the button on the side as he eyes it inside his coat. It takes a few moments, but eventually the rough coordinates for Lupin’s location pop up on the screen, as well as a general estimate as to where he is.
Leningrad huh?
“I’ll make a deal with you,” the gunman starts, pulling Zenigata out of his partial slump with a curious glint in his eye. “I tell you where Lupin is, and you make sure he’s not…” Jigen pauses, finding the right word. “Getting himself into trouble.”
Zenigata remains stoic as he watches the other man, “What do you mean by that?”
“He’s not out trying to get himself killed.”
The Inspector’s arms cross in front of him, “And if he is?”
“And if he is, put his ass in a jail cell for a few days until he calms down.”
A chuckle escapes the larger man, threatening to become a booming laugh as he settles. “You have my word, Jig-” he coughs, clearing his throat, “-Coyote.” He corrects.
Jigen sighs, a smile playing at his lips, “Looks like Lupin’s spending some time with the Soviets, doing who knows what.” He doesn’t miss the small twitch that travels through Zenigata’s form at his words, nor some unnamed emotion that flits across his hardened expression. “I’m assuming he’s somewhere near Leningrad.”
Zenigata stills, turning to look at the table across the way, “You’re sure?”
“I am.”
The officer’s eyes find their way back to Jigen, a contemplative look in them as he regards the other man. “I don’t think Coyote suits you.”
The statement takes Jigen off guard, “What?”
“Coyote, you’ve been watching too many westerns.”
Jigen blinks, still at a bit of a loss, “I didn’t know you cared so much about my nicknames, Pops.”
Zenigata shrugs again, a small sigh escaping him, “Aren’t they more of a,” he scrunches his nose, “a trickster character anyway?”
The gunman feels his eyebrows raise, a sideways smile threatening to cross his face. “Not always, what would you call me then, Pops?”
There’s a sort of haze that crosses the other man’s face as he speaks next. “A wolf.”
Jigen laughs, cackling to himself as he leans on the table. When he controls his laugh, he leans across the surface, a wry grin on his face as he regards the Inspector before him, pushing his hat up and exposing his eyes. “Wolves don’t live in New York.”
“I think one does.”
…