Work Text:
He stares at the text he’s just sent with a pit in his stomach.
Wanna catch up?
There is minimal conversation between them. If Takashi scrolls back far enough he knows it will get ugly; vicious exchanges, messages sent on behalf of Hakkai, of Yuzuha too. They think he has his number blocked. They both do. Rightly so.
Takashi should stop doing this. It’s a self-destructive habit. It gets worse when things are bad, and things aren’t great right now. He’s living at home, between jobs, his sisters are now teens and vicious with each other, with their mother, and beginning to be vicious with him.
His mother cries a lot, when they get suspended, or when they don’t show up for a few days. She asks him in roundabout ways if he could get a real job, asks how long he plans to keep drawing dresses with a laugh when she’s three glasses of wine deep. And Takashi is losing patience fast. Tokyo feels stifling now he’s seen the world. He’s losing the ‘under 20 and so successful’ brand of talent he was using as currency.
Maybe the worst thing is that Hakkai is doing so well. It shouldn’t be a difficult pill to swallow, because Hakkai is gorgeous and makes a good model; Takashi would know, it was him who told him to go for his first casting. But Hakkai used all of Takashi’s connections, like standing on his shoulders and Takashi can’t help but feel like he’s not offering a hand -
He breathes out. He’s not going to be that bitter, or that vindictive, just because things aren’t going his way. It’s a turbulent industry. He just struggles, back in the same shoe box apartment he grew up in, staring at the mould growing in the same place he treated years ago. He struggles not to feel like it’s in vain, like every step he takes forward he takes four backwards.
His phone chimes
Desperate slut.
His lip twists, half a smile. He reads it, but doesn't reply. Three minutes pass.
My brother not good enough?
A minute
TAKASHI
ANSWER
Three seconds
I finish work at 10. Meet me there?
Takashi grins, thumb beginning to type.
You're missing something, Taiju?
There is a moment. He watches Taiju type, stop, begin to stype again.
I’m sorry. Meet at 10 please?
Takashi grins, puts the phone to his lips for a moment. It never gets old.
-
It’s pouring rain by the time he gets to Taiju’s restaurant. It’s a small thing with a striped canopy, little seats outside that have been stacked in the rain. The windows are steamed, but probably from Taiju screaming at his staff. He opens the door.
“We’re closed”, a timid looking girl says, holding laminated menus. The decor is horrific. The walls are blood red, and the floors are faux marble diamonds that make the place feel like a chess board. There is a virgin mary on the wall, candles and paraphernalia. It’s really tacky. It’s almost offensive.
“I’m here for someone”, Takashi smiles warmly. She bites her lip, he has that effect on people who have been terrorised by Taiju.
“Who -”
“OI”. It’s hollered from somewhere. Taiju is storming through the restaurant front. Takashi watches the vein on his forehead. “Didn’t I just tell you to lock the door? Are we not closed? Do you think that’s fucking acceptable? Do you want me to lose my licence? It’s 10.03, what did I say? We close at? What time do we close? ” Taiju motions at the girl.
“10”, croaks.
“Well I know that, don’t I?”, he says, eyes like cat playing with prey.
“Yes”, she squeaks.
“So why are you telling me?”
“Because you -”
“So why are we still open?!”, shouts.
Takashi watches the exchange, eyebrow lifted. “She was talking to me. Great customer service. 10/10”.
She flushes. Taiju’s nostrils flare.
Takashi bats his eyelashes. “I’ll even leave a review”.
Taiju breathes in, looking the girl up and down. “It’s fine. It’s - it’s your second day. Don’t sweat. You’re doing great”.
She scampers towards the kitchen as Taiju puts the lock on.
“Happy?”, he asks Takashi. “That was nice of me, right?”
Takashi smiles, rolls his eyes and sits at one of the slightly sticky tables. “Very good. That was almost humane”. He runs a finger over the surface. “Do you do the cleaning?”
Taiju snorts, crosses his arms.
“Do I fucking do the cleaning. No. I have people. They clean to my standards”.
Takashi looks at him, tilts his head. “You have low standards, then”.
He watches Taiju’s lips twitch, his face muscles trembling with the effort not to react.
“Doesn’t that say something about you?”
Takashi hums.
“Maybe. Is the staff gone? I’d like a drink”.
Taiju stomps to the kitchen. He hears low voices, a door slamming shut, then opening again, Taiju coming through holding two glasses and a bottle in one of his huge hands.
“Here -”
Takashi lifts his hand.
“Aren’t you still on the clock?”, he asks. “The table isn’t clean”.
They stare at each other. This part is always the hardest but Taiju always relents. There was a time where he used to fight him harder, snarl and kick and throw punches. Takashi enjoyed it. He enjoys this more. He enjoys the hatred and desperate attraction behind Taiju’s gaze when he puts the glasses down, loudly, takes a wet wipe to the counter. He gets drops of water on his tacky suit, too small for him. Takashi grabs his wrist, turns his arms to see the badly done stitches. Taiju pulls back, slaps his hand away.
“The fuck you doing?!”
Takashi shrugs.
“Nothing. So what’s the wine?”
Taiju is still a salesman. He rattles on about the wine, provenience and ingredients, even gets Takashi convinced he is going to drink something decent. He grimaces at the taste in his mouth. Something flashes across Taiju’s eyes.
“If you have come here to shit on everything I have been trying to build -”
“I haven’t”. Takashi shakes his head. “You have been doing well, Taiju”.
He even means it. Taiju has an eye for profit. Clearly something Takashi hasn’t. But he says it mostly to see the way Taiju’s cheeks flush slightly, the way he fights back the shiver of pleasure down his spine. Takashi smiles at him.
“Did you think I wouldn’t say it?”
“I never know what you are going to say”, Taiju admits, roughly.
It’s true, Takashi supposes. He had heard the surprise in his intake of breath at feeling Takashi hard against him, the first time they had done this, had seen his eyes widening at his own willingness to do what Takashi wanted him to. Shame and desire all mixed into one.
“You know I am honest”, he says. Taiju nods, pulls up the chair next to his and sits down. Then he snorts, shakes his head.
“Bet you are. With my brother, too”.
“You wouldn’t know”, Takashi says, casual. “Maybe I am honest with him too. How would you tell? He doesn’t text you, you cannot speak to him. Maybe I tell him everything about how pathetic you get with me, all the ways in which you get desperate for me to -”
Taiju grabs his chair, scrapes it forward. Suddenly they are too close, face to face, Taiju’s breath hot over his face and his teeth gritted. Takashi feels a thrill drown his spine, his heart pumping in his throat.
“I’ll smack your face in -”
“You wanna take that back?”, Takashi asks, calm. He watches Taiju’s nostrils flare.
Taiju looks, for a moment, like he might actually do it. But they aren’t teens anymore and he probably has to try and avoid litigation against him everyday. They stare at one another, Takashi smiling ever so softly, Taiju glaring with his cat slit eyes and grinding canines. It reminds Takashi of a wolf from a kids show, snarling and gnashing its teeth. Every animal can be tamed though, he thinks.
“What do you want from me?”, Taiju asks, almost imploring, a weakness in the growl.
“Want?”, Takashi asks, blinks at him.
Taiju’s brows knit, his cheeks red with rage. “You might have tricked my brother into falling for your innocent routine but I know you, Mitsuya, I know exactly what you are capable of and so I ask, what do you want?”
Takashi laughs, throws his head back. The action is harmless and utterly friendly but it still makes Taiju flinch a little. It makes something primal in Takashi purr.
“Taiju”, he lilts. “Are you telling me you don’t sit and wait for my texts? That you don’t think about this whenever you touch your fucking cock?”
“You’re an arrogant cunt”, Taiju bites out, right against his nose.
Takashi laughs, but it’s less humorous, more incredulous.
“Careful”, he says, soft. “Be really careful, Taiju. I will just leave. I have other places”.
He won’t. But it’s a valid enough threat that Taiju’s throat works, a needy breath escaping him. He wets his lips, his big lashes falling a little shut.
“Don’t”.
“Don’t?”, Takashi prompts.
“Leave”. And then, after a beat. “Please”.
Takashi tuts, sympathetic. He taps his lap. “Well done. Knees”.
Taiju does it, with a moment of hesitation, like he expects some kind of retribution for his outburst. His slacks pull so tight over his thigh Takashi thinks the material might tear. His throat goes dry at the thought. Taiju’s chin rests on his knee, his head brushing against his thigh, his eyes falling shut.
“Takashi”. It almost sounds like a prayer. He nuzzles like a dog. Takashi runs a hand through his hair, muses the gel till it falls in wild curls again down his nape and across his eyes. He looks much less imposing like this.
Takashi traces the ridge of his nose, the arch of his cupid bow. Taiju breathes evenly, like he’s forcibly controlling it. He pets his hair, says nothing. He knows Taiju doesn’t get this, never had this. It’s amazing what a gentle touch can do to someone, Takashi knows, it’s much more powerful than a slap.
“Are any of your employees still here?”, Takashi asks, soft. It breaks the spell that’s fallen over them. Taiju blinks at him, lips wet, cheeks flushed.
“No”, Taiju manages.
“And you locked the door?” Takashi tucks his hair behind his ear, thumb stroking from his temple down to his lip, resting there.
Taiju nods.
“Good”, he says, soft. As soft as he can, even when he can taste blood on his tongue. “Good”.
Taiju’s exhale is shaky, trembling. Oh, he must have missed this, if he is already like this. It’s been a while since Takashi reached out, busy with work and then with the lack of work, trying to get work for himself and for Hakkai, and then helping Hakkai and not helping himself. This is him, helping himself, he thinks, in a way. When he feels like he is about to snap, when everything feels impossible, when a word too harsh sends Hakkai in a spiral and all he wants to do is scream at him, all he wants to do is leave his sisters to fend for themselves, his mother to cook the meals she never cooked for him. He doesn’t, though. He doesn’t.
Instead he comes here. Stares into Taiju’s pleading eyes looking up at him like he is a saint. Worship looks good on Taiju, and Takashi likes watching someone from above.
“How long has it been?”, he asks, like he doesn’t already know the answer. Taiju opens his mouth, wets his lips.
“Fifty days”, he croaks. Takashi hums.
“You promise?”, he coos. But he doesn’t need an answer. His foot find Taiju’s cock, hard already between his legs, just from this, just from kneeling. Taiju’s teeth grit.
“I wouldn’t -”
Takashi presses down. It makes Taiju whine, buck up against him.
“I believe you”, he reassures him, caresses his cheek before tapping against the skin, lighter than a slap. “I do”.
He removes his foot before Taiju can find any relief against the pressure, gets up.
“So”, he says, tilts his head. Taiju looks up at him, dazed. “You are not gonna show me around?”
He has been here before, once. The opening event. They had barely made eye contact, Takashi knowing he shouldn’t have come, not when the event was so public, not when Hakkai had thrown the invitation in the bin with no hesitation. But Taiju had asked again and again and Takashi could hear the increasing desperation, the increasing need to have someone there who actually knew him. And so he had shown up, drunk his cheap glass of champagne, nodded at Taiju from across the room. Nothing more.
This is different. There is no one around to serve him, except for Taiju.
He watches as Taiju gets up, slowly. Takashi can see he is hard even through his trousers but he doesn’t touch himself, doesn’t fix his clothes. Something inside Takashi purrs at that.
He offers his hand. Taiju takes it, hesitantly and then with strength, like he is afraid Takashi might pull back. From the front dining room Taiju throws a hand at the cleaning cupboard.
“Cleaning cupboard”, he says, with a huff, he turns, points. “Toilets”. Points again. “Fire escape”.
Takashi takes his hand back, swings open the doors to the kitchen. Taiju follows him, almost wary.
“Legally you shouldn’t be back here”, he says.
Takashi turns to him, hops onto bunker with a metal clang. “You got cameras in here?”
Taiju shakes his head.
“Then who's gonna know”. Takashi puts a finger to his lips. “It’ll be our secret”.
Taiju grits his teeth, looks defeated. “I have so many of them with you”.
What’s the alternative? They get married? Takashi is not up for that. But Taiju is fragile, in some ways more than Hakkai. There is a lot he wouldn’t be able to handle about Takashi outside these scripted encounters. They are similar, Takashi has always thought that, if you combined them you’d probably get a proper human. There is a lot Takashi cannot handle too. Takashi has learnt from Taiju over the years. Namely the importance of telling someone to fuck off without saying please or thank you.
Takashi bounces down, comes close. He stands in Taiju’s shadow, watches as he is watched. The intensity of it is astounding sometimes, painful, like standing in the sun too long. He puts two fingers to shining metal counter, drags them along and comes back with residue.
“Tut, tut”, he purrs, turns to just to take a breath. “If I was a health inspector you’d be failing. You should rip your chefs a new one and to think, I almost ate here -”
Taiju grabs his shoulders, spins him round hard. It’s going to leave marks in the morning, which Takashi should have mentioned he can’t have given he’s seeing Hakkai soon. He opens his mouth, about to push back when Taiju brings him close, hard. The kiss is beyond desperate, it’s forlorn, it’s a dog who just can’t sit before a treat and every brush is already full of keening self-loathing and shame.
Takashi tries to tip away but his grip is too strong, for a moment it sends a shiver down him, making him lose his breath. Maybe he has pushed too far. Taiju is not a tamed animal by any measure. The tremble in him is almost involuntary, pulled from him.
Taiju nuzzles into his neck, bent over him, his arms locked around him. For a moment, just a second, Takashi can’t think at all.
“Taiju”, he says, soft.
There is a whimper, like he’s pulled his hair or bitten him.
“Did I say you could do that?”, he asks, swallows and forces his breath out. Taiju pulls back slightly, searches his eyes.
“You wanted it, Takashi”, he says, with an edge of hopeless desire. “Didn’t you? Don’t you?”
Oh, he’s so sweet it’s sickening. Takashi sees too much of himself in him for comfort sometimes.
Takashi pouts, confused. “I’m sorry, when did you start deciding what I want?”
Taiju bites his lip, his nostrils flaring. Takashi can see every muscle in him strain to fight back. For a moment he almost expects it too. But Taiju’s shoulders drop a little, his gaze falling demurely to the ground.
“When we want things we ask”, Takashi says, using his index finger to curl Taiju’s hair out his face. He stares back, breathing hard. “Do you want to kiss me?”
Taiju’s throat works, his cheeks darkening. Takashi’s backed up against the cooker now, Taiju braced either side of him, caging him in. His head bows forward.
“Yes”, he breathes, like a confession.
“No”, Takashi says simply.
Taiju flinches, bewildered. “No?”
“No. You have to earn it, don’t you? Maybe if you hadn’t done it without permission first. See? Action; consequence. It’s not difficult, Taiju”.
Taiju’s nostrils flare, something flashes across his gaze.
“You are the devil”, he mutters. “Tempting only to punish”.
Takashi smiles. His lips brush Taiju’s, the softest of touches; they don’t kiss. He can feel how Taiju trembles against him, the strain in his muscles, the pants on his tongue.
“Is that how you think of me?”
“It’s the truth”, Taiju says. “You made my brother stray away from me, from his own family, and then came back for more. And I am the fool who lets you”.
Takashi looks at him, his flushed cheeks, the way he swallows. He imagines him in church, on his knees, trying to pray all of this away - his attraction, his desperation, his adoration. If he stares into his eyes long enough he can almost swear Taiju looks scared.
He could reassure him. He could tell him he is here to give him what he wants - it’s true, after all. He could tell him, like he has done again and again, that he takes care of Hakkai, of Yuzuha, too, better than he ever has. But this is better, this is so much better. Takashi can very rarely be selfish. He’ll take this, he’ll take all of it, the terror and the worship, the headiest rush to his head.
“Lets me?”, he repeats, moves forward until Taiju is not caging him in anymore, until it’s Taiju’s back that’s hitting the wall behind him. “Oh, I think you do a lot more than that. You crave this, Taiju, don’t lie. I thought that was a sin”.
Taiju shivers, his nose curls as he looks away. He bites his lip.
“No?”, Takashi asks, softly. “You don’t agree?”
He watches as Taiju wets his lips, tries to speak.
“It is a sin”, he gets out, in the end, croaked in his throat. Takashi hums in agreement. He bends closer, his nose running across the line of Taiju’s jaw, down his neck. He can almost taste his cologne.
“Repent, then”, he says. He makes a spinning motion with his finger. “Turn around”.
Taiju obeys instantly, faces the wall. A child in time-out, Takashi thinks. It would almost be laughable if it didn’t make him tremble with arousal.
He moves across the kitchen. Taiju doesn’t move, doesn’t utter a word, only flinches when he hears Takashi open a cabinet. Takashi smiles at the motion, at what he finds in the pantry.
He walks back to Taiju, stands behind him, their bodies almost touching.
“Take your pants off”, he murmurs. Taiju scrambles to obey, throws them to the side. His legs are trembling when Takashi leans down behind him, pours rice from the bag he is holding onto the floor.
“You know what to do?”, he asks, soft. Taiju nods, shakily. His knees hit the ground with a thud, grains crushing under his weight but the rice is still enough to dig into his skin without spreading around.
“You can think about how to repent, maybe”, Takashi says, can’t resist the temptation to run his hand through Taiju’s curls. “How long do you need, you think? Half an hour? An hour? And then you can tell me everything you’d like to apologise for”.
Takashi sits down, squats by his face.
“And then, you can pick every grain up”, he purrs. “With your fucking cock out”.
Taiju says nothing. Anything he would say would add time. Takashi smiles, pats his cheek gently.
“Good boy. I’ll be back in a second”, he says, strokes the skin he just brushed with a promise for more.
Taiju bites a whimper down his throat, his eyes squeezing shut. Takashi leaves, just for a moment he returns to the empty restaurant. His back thuds against the door the second Taiju is out of sight. His breath comes out a whispery ragged thing.
He is hard too, so fucking hard. He thinks he could come here in his palm and then go back through, be hard again by the time that half an hour is over. He bites his lip. It would be failure, he knows, by his own unestablished rules with Taiju. Taiju would see it as weakness. Takashi needs absolute control, he needs it as much as Taiju needs absolute abandon.
He cannot pinpoint, really, when this became something he needed. Maybe he knew from the start, from the first time he reached out to touch Taiju’s cheek as a caress and not a slap, sat at a coffee shop, Taiju’s eyes red from the crying he wouldn’t admit to and a plea on his lips to see Hakkai again. Takashi has always been so intent on helping people. He can recognise it in himself, this instinct, cannot tell when he started thinking of it as a burden instead of as a gift. Cannot tell when he realised helping Taiju meant satisfying every hidden need and desire he carefully keeps locked away with everyone else in his life.
He pushes his palm against his cock, presses down hard to release some of the tension, eyes squeezing shut and lips dropping open. Soon, he thinks to himself, soon. He can take, here, take and take and take and be thanked for it.
He waits fifteen minutes before he goes back through. Taiju’s head is bent, he is murmuring between his lips; repeated prayers, hail mary’s and lord's prayers. Takashi swallows, takes a shuddering breath in at the sight. His thighs are trembling, the muscles in them bulging, his toes flexing where they are bent up, his eyes squeezed shut.
Takashi sits on the counter, crosses his legs over and leans back, every movement contained. He feels so watched under Taiju’s gaze, sheared by it. He tips the edge of his shoe forward.
“Take it off”.
Taiju doesn’t glare, but the tension is palpable. His fingers go to the laces, untie them slowly. His hand cups the back of his heel, slides the shoe in with an achingly soft touch. Taiju’s fingers brush his calf as he rolls down his sock, pulling it off.
Taiju waits, his whole body held in tension. Takashi watches the muscle shifts.
“Kiss it”, Takashi smiles, arching the bridge of his foot expectantly. Taiju hisses, his knees adjusting under the rice, the skin red and angry. His jaw works, the humiliation and arousal warring in his features.
Taiju’s head bends, his lips brushing the arch of his foot. It’s a dry kiss, soft and delicate. Takashi can feel Taiju’s trembling breath on the thin skin where he lands the kisses.
“Kiss it”, Takashi says again, not any harsher - he’d never get harsh with Taiju in the way Taiju knows harshness - but with a firmer authority. “Like you mean it”.
Taiju’s mouth opens, outrage across his features.
“I’ll let you stand up if you really impress me”, Takashi compromises. He enjoys the way playful bartering throws Taiju so much. Taiju has never compromised for anything in his entire existence, and Takashi has him on his knees deciding the lesser of two humiliations.
Taiju doesn’t speak but he licks a strip up Takashi foot, laving wet patterns across to his ankle. He kisses with the type of devotion and worship that he should hate, that probably makes his guts squirm red and unholy with shame. Takashi digs his nails into his palm at the sight, at Taiju’s breathlessness, at this whole attempt.
“Is that enough for you?”, Taiju asks, rough with arousal. Takashi doesn’t like the tone. He tuts.
“Taiju”, he smiles, he leans down, puts two fingers under his chin to tip his head up. “Never”.
He grits his teeth and begins to move, pushing a little upwards like he’s going to stand up.
“Did I say you could stop kneeling?”, Takashi asks politely. Taiju stares.
“You said you would let me stand up”, he says, bewildered, like a child whose never been told no.
“I said if you impressed me and I’m not”, Takashi purrs, he puts his tongue on his teeth, forcing the words out past his own growing breathless desire. “You got them wet, dry them”.
Taiju’s jaw locks. “Pass me a dish cloth”.
“Use your hair”. Takashi tilts his chin up, a challenge.
Taiju stares him down, like a dog in a standoff, hackles raised and fur bristling. But Takashi holds all the power, and he gazes back evenly till Taiju breaks. He leans down, takes a fist full of his own hair and leans down, uses it like a rag to clean his own saliva away from the skin. He’s dutiful, he’s thorough too. That’s the best part, Taiju gives everything, he doesn’t even try to feign dismissiveness.
His hair lies in damp curls by the end, his cheeks scarlet and his lips still damp. He looks up Takashi, shaking on his knees.
Takashi leans down, strokes his cheek.
“You look like a whore”, he breathes, like the sweetest compliment. He watches the way Taiju’s teeth grit, his pupils blown. “You did such a pretty job, though. Why can’t you always behave like this?”
He waits. Taiju shakes his head. Takashi raises an eyebrow at him, pushes for an answer silently.
“I don’t know”, Taiju croaks, finally. Takashi sighs, pats his head like one might a dog.
“That’s fine, sweetheart. We’ll work on it, don’t worry”, he says, watches the words run a shiver down Taiju’s spine. He extends his other foot, silently, watches Taiju take off his shoe again. He jumps down the counter, barefoot. Taiju’s gaze follows his movement, glazed over.
“You wanna stand up?”, he asks, soft. Taiju nods. His eyes are bloodshot red, like he is trying not to cry. “Alright. You can”.
Taiju stands, with difficulty. His knees are red, some of the rice stuck on his skin. It looks painful. His muscles are twitching, legs trembling. He almost looked small on his knees, Takashi forgets how big he is. His throat goes dry when he stands at full height, legs shaking and cock straining against his underwear.
“Come here”, Takashi says, beckons him forward. It takes one step for Taiju’s legs to buckle, for him to practically fall into his arms. It makes Takashi stumble back, his back hitting the counter again, sharp pain into his bones.
“Sorry”, Taiju chokes, immediately. “I’m sorry -”
Takashi can hear the tears in his voice, in how it cracks. That won’t do. He can’t have Taiju so overwhelmed so soon - that’s for the end, that’s for after. He doesn’t want to spend tonight drying his tears no more than Taiju wants to spend it all crying, going back home unsatisfied once more.
He hushes him, strokes his hair back, brings them both to the floor. Taiju gives a groan when his knees hit the floor again, hurt and bruised.
“Shh, shh”, Takashi whispers, pushes Taiju’s back, just a hand on his chest, no pressure applied. Taiju goes, lays on the floor. “Here you go. Quiet. Just stand down, stand down”.
Taiju whimpers when Takashi climbs over him, settles on his lap. His erection presses against his ass, insistent.
“You asked me what I wanted, earlier”, he says. “Do you know now?”
Taiju’s eyes open, for a moment, gaze so dark and glazed Takashi wonders if he can even think at all, if all is left in his mind is prayers. But Taiju nods, his lips opening.
“Tell me”, Takashi orders.
“To behave”, Taiju gets out, his back arching as he tries to press closer. “For me to behave”.
“Good”, Takashi whispers. “Good. See? See, you can be good. I knew it”.
Taiju shudders at that, a hopeless noise pulled from him. It’s really all he wants, Takashi knows, to have some acknowledgement and a tiny bit of praise, it’s all most people want when you strip them down to it. Denying them the warmth of being told you are good, that you are worth something - that’s a form of control too, the type Taiju inflicts. It’s no wonder it’s exactly the opposite that undoes him.
He thinks maybe that’s what makes all this so sacreligious to Takashi. He feels sorry for Taiju, really, because he knows what it feels like to have that amount of responsibility so, so young. He knows what it’s like to want to run from it, to want to fucking scream and take every inch of it out on the people that depend on you when you have no-one and nothing to depend on yourself. He knows what it is like to look in the mirror and beg for someone to take care of you for once.
He can never tell Hakkai that. He could never tell Yuzuha that. In many ways Takashi is responsible for how much they hate him. They look at Takashi - kind and perfect, raising his own siblings with a smile - and don’t think about the impact. They just see everything they did not get themselves. Takashi cannot blame them.
He takes a hand down Taiju’s front, caresses over his cock with the softest touch. Taiju groans, deep and intense. His cock is so unbearably hard it makes Takashi heady, makes him flush despite himself.
“You really haven’t touched yourself?”
Taiju doesn’t even speak, can’t bring himself to, just shakes his head wildly.
“You are so perfect, aren’t you?”, Takashi purrs, leans down. The front of his boxers soaks, his hips arching in jagged, aborted movements. Takashi just keeps stroking him through the fabric. “Oh Taiju, does it hurt? Should I touch you? I could put you in my mouth -”
Taiju makes a garbled, desperate noise. His head shakes violently. “Too much, too much, I’ll –”
Takashi pulls his hand back. He really could have come from that, he realises dimly, and the power of it ignites in his veins.
“You’ll get that”, he says. “I promise. But first I get what I want, don’t I?”
Taiju’s head nods.
“Why?”, Takashi pushes, just because he can. Taiju searches his eyes, frantic with need now.
“Because you - you are the only person who gives me this”, Taiju gets out, garbled. He sits up, presses a kiss to Takashi’s hand desperately, his wrist. Takashi looks down at him. “You are the only person I do this with, Takashi. You are everything and so you get anything”.
Takashi breathes through the feeling, the words going straight to his head. He wonders if Taiju just knows what Takashi needs to hear, too, if this is transactional in some way or if Taiju really believes it.
Staring down at him, he thinks he does.
“Get on your hands and knees”.
He does it without hesitation. It’s a sight, really. Takashi used to want to muzzle him, put him in a collar and leash, parade him around like that but the reality is different - Taiju can be brought to heel without any of that. It makes Takashi smile.
“You can strip. Keep your underwear on”, he says, generous. Taiju throws his shirt away. He looks so much better without his hideous clothes on, Takashi thinks, suddenly his fingers hitch for a pencil. Taiju has none of Draken’s quiet, soft elegance; nothing of Hakkai’s fawnish grace but it inspires something in him nonetheless, darker, more primal.
He walks around him, fingers gracing his hair, his back, brushing his ass. Through it Taiju breathes through his nose, eyes closed and muscles tense, a spooked animal. Takashi pats his flank, feels him twitch at the touch.
Takashi smiles, revels in the control. He traces the curve of Taiju's spine, feeling the muscles tense and relax beneath his touch. He kneels down behind him, close enough to feel the heat radiating from Taiju's body. The anticipation hangs thick in the air, molten. Taiju is practically panting. Takashi doesn’t know for how long he is going to be able to restrain himself, but this, this for him is half the reward.
“You're so responsive”, he murmurs. “So obedient”.
He leans in, pressing a kiss to the small of Taiju's back, watching the way his body shudders at the contact. He runs his tongue along the curve of Taiju’s ass, feeling the muscles jump under his touch. He drags his teeth lightly over the skin. Taiju breathes in sharply, groans. His underwear are practically soaked.
“Tell me, Taiju”, Takashi says, feels his voice low with arousal. “You have been good. Fifty days, that’s a long time. What do you want?”
Taiju's breath is ragged, his body trembling with need. “Anything. Anything you want, Takashi. Please”.
And he means it, Takashi knows. His own cock twitches in his pants, too tight now. He has to palm himself for a moment, eyes squeezed shut. He swears under his breath, silently.
“Good”, he gets out, “good”.
He needs to touch him more. The teasing sends Takashi mad, too, he doesn’t know if Taiju realises it. He shifts his position, hands on Taiju’s hips, pulls him back against him slightly so his erection is pressed against Taiju’s ass. “You feel that?”, he asks, low. “What you do to me. Maybe you are the devil, Taiju”, he mocks, tongue clicking. “Tempting me to do all this”.
Taiju gives a strangled sound, shakes his head, hanging limp between his arms.
“No”, he croaks, “no, I am not -”
Takashi’s hand comes down against his ass, makes Taiju whine and jolt forward, lip bitten.
“Silence”, he says. “You have been so good. Don’t ruin it”. He caresses over the skin, red from the slap. “You know you need to keep that temper of yours in check”.
Taiju grits his teeth. “You can’t call me that, you can not dare -”
Takashi strokes his back, hushes him with a smile. “Come on, Taiju. You fucking love it. Careful, or I’ll fill you with your rosary beads again. Sacreligious, you are. Did you confess that?”
Taiju makes a noise like an animal in a trap, like he’s going to turn around and rip Takashi’s throat out with his teeth. But he doesn’t, he just shudders, cock leaking. He whimpers, eventually, head hung.
“Shh, it’s okay. It’s just what you want, Taiju. Let yourself have something you want”. Even the words are not fair, he knows, they are not the same sweet praise he’d give anyone else. To Taiju they are confirmation of failure, falling to temptation.
It’s fine, Takashi thinks, the guilt works both ways. Taiju will go to church tomorrow morning, and Takashi will face Hakkai.
“Close your legs”, he says into his ear, soft. “Just a little, that’s it”.
Takashi undoes his trousers, doesn’t bother stripping. He can’t ever remember being skin to skin with Taiju. The boundaries he draws in his own head, maybe. It doesn’t matter in the end, his cock is just as wet as Taiju’s, his breath just as unsteady.
He slides between Taiju’s thighs slowly, fucks into where the sweat has gathered, just below the line of his underwear. It’s torturous. Taiju groans, from so fucking little, falls from his hands to his elbows. Takashi brushes his cock against Taiju’s, lets him grind down against him, hips shuddering and head against the cold kitchen floor.
“Do you wake up thinking about me?”, Takashi asks against his ear, ignores how breathy his own voice sounds, how needy. “Do you, Taiju? How much will power does it take not to touch yourself? That’s so impressive”, he coos, soft, liltingly mocking.
He puts his head to Taiju’s back, fucks slow and even as much as it makes him ache. He can show some restraint too, for Taiju’s sake.
It’s difficult, though, so terribly difficult. Taiju feels so big and hard everytime Takashi’s cock slides against his, it sends him out of his mind. His skin chafes against the wet cotton of his underwear. He could fuck him here, he thinks, like an animal, on the kitchen floor, push his cheek on the rice still left from his kneeling. He groans at the thought, forehead hitting Taiju’s back, his hands gripping his hips harder.
But that would be like giving in. Taiju’s thighs are thick and firm around him and that’s enough. He has to be careful, with Taiju, not to give too much, or Taiju will take all of him, too. Like his brother does. He has to control himself, even when he wants to do everything but.
He fucks harder between his thighs, hips unsteady now, bites his lip. Taiju trembles under his hands, his voice a whine.
“Takashi”, he gets out, “Takashi, I can’t - please, please, let me - I need -”
Takashi’s eyes fly open, watch in awe. Taiju’s skin is red all over, flushed from arousal, or embarrassment, or both. He is trembling like a leaf. Takashi stops his movements, for a second, then starts again with more strength, makes sure to slide against Taiju’s balls, his cock.
“You gonna soak your underwear?”, he breathes out. “Mhh, Taiju? You are gonna come without even being touched? God, you are desperate”, he says, moves his hand to brush a finger against the outline of Taiju’s cock, press down lightly at the head. “Do it, then, come on. Show me how much -”
He doesn’t need to say more. Taiju’s hips move, roll back against him and then against the soft pressure of his finger. He is so fucking wet, Takashi thinks, and cannot think much more when Taiju’s hips stutter, his shoulder tense and mouth open in a groan as he comes untouched.
“Fuck”, Takashi swears, feels the tremble of Taiju’s release against his finger. He pushes his whole palm against him just to feel him twitch, feel the mess he is making. “Fuck, that’s - let it all out, baby, all of it, come on -”
He is moaning nonsense, he knows, his own hips picking up speed again, his fingers digging bruises into Taiju’s skin. He hopes he leaves a mark, the mark Taiju cannot leave on him. He hopes Taiju looks at his bruised knees tomorrow and feels himself hot with shame, adoration, everything Takashi gives him.
Taiju has soaked his underwear through, trembling on his knees. It must feel horrible, horribly humiliating, cold now. He’s whimpering, even if Takashi doesn’t care. God, he hopes he’s crying, he hopes he’s soaking his own floor with come and tears. Takashi can feel himself shuddering now, his fingers stroking over the tattoos on Taiju’s back, the scripture and the cross. He gasps, head falling to the broad muscle, forehead pressed to the ink.
“Taiju -”, he croaks and then he’s coming too, in the warm wet between Taiju’s thighs. He needs a moment. For a moment they are just silent, nothing except their breath between them.
Takashi pulls away first, wipes a hand over his face and does his belt up. He settles against the metal cupboards, puts his head between his knees just to breathe. Taiju sits up, the muscles on his back flexing dangerously. Takashi’s mouth goes dry again, just for a moment. For a moment he wants some retribution, wants Taiju’s wrath like he had it all those years ago.
But Taiju just sits up too, gingerly, unsteady. His eyes are streaming, his whole body shuddering. Takashi just watches him, watches until he feels more himself again.
“Come here”, he whispers. Taiju does, crawls into his arms. He’s too big. Takashi can hardly get his arms around him, like a dog who doesn’t know it’s not a puppy anymore. He clutches at Takashi’s shoulders, nuzzles into his neck. The worst part is Takashi gets soft in these moments, imagines being held in Taiju’s arms, imagines what it would be like if they took these games further.
It couldn’t happen though. It just couldn’t.
Taiju pulls back, his eyes streaming. When he’s not frowning, or furious, he still has soft features, still looks so young. He touches Takashi’s cheek, ever so soft, like he’s scared by the strength he has in those hands.
“Why do you come back for me?”, Taiju whispers, searches his eyes. “Really, Takashi, why?”
Takashi looks up, fights this ache in the back of his throat. He shakes his head. “I don’t know. Because you understand, maybe”.
Taiju’s eyebrow quirks. “How impossible it is to love my annoying brother?”
Takashi huffs a laugh, even if he shouldn’t. The air is not simmering between them anymore, the tension has dispelled, for a short while, before it will build again.
“What it’s like to be relied on”, Takashi shrugs. He shouldn’t, he really shouldn’t, but he’s always given Taiju too much grace, from warm meetings where they organised truces while he hit Yuzuha at home. Takashi has always been lenient.
“No-one relies on me anymore”, Taiju says softly. “I don’t remember how it feels”.
Takashi feels a flash of something, guilt or maybe jealousy, he is not sure which is worse. Taiju swallows, his eyes filling, he looks at Takashi, imploring.
“Would you, would you tell them -”
Takashi shakes his head softly. His gaze diverting, he blinks rapidly. “No. I can’t”.
“Takashi”, Taiju says, more insistent now. “Please I’ll - I’ll do whatever you want, you know I’ll do it -” “It’s not my decision, Taiju”, Takashi says, as gently as he can with the weight of his guilt settling in. He can feel the sweat drying on his skin. “You know that”.
“Yes, but -”
Takashi does not want to hear it. The spell is broken, somehow, as it always is after. He untangles from Taiju’s arms, gets up, finds his socks and his shoes.
“Taiju”, he says, firm. “When will the lesson stick?”
That shuts him up again. Takashi breathes in, shakily, with his back to him his eyes fall shut for a moment. Back into their roles, back to playing at full control, setting boundaries, holding all the power in his hands. Selfish.
“I am sorry”, Taiju says, quietly. Takashi turns to face him. His cheeks are still flushed, eyes red from the crying. He feels a flash of arousal again. He did that.
“It’s fine”, he says, reaches out to caress Taiju’s cheek for a moment. “It’s fine. Just -”, he looks for the words, awkward suddenly. Taiju’s gaze feels heavy on him. He wonders if he can see through his act. “Don’t ask me that again”.
Taiju nods, slow. When he bends down to grab his clothes Takashi swallows at the expanse of his muscles.
“When will I see you again?”, Taiju asks, tries to keep his tone casual.
“I don’t know”, Takashi gets out. He doesn’t pretend this will be the last time anymore.
Taiju smiles, a sad thing. “You know where to find me”. His eyes search Takashi’s face, scan down his body. “Do you want anything to eat? You look like you have lost weight, are you working too hard -”
This hurts even more than the post-coital moments between them - when Taiju shows him who he could have been, when he reads through Takashi’s facade and sees his tiredness, his weariness. It’s so terrifying it makes him shiver.
“I am good”, he says, aims for dismissive and ends up defensive. “I don’t need your concern”.
They stare at each other, silent for a moment. They both know, really, that it’s a lie. Takashi is just better at keeping the mask than Taiju is.
“Are you staying with my brother?”
Takashi’s nose curls. “Your brother has a name and a whole life outside of us”. And it comes out much bitter than he means to. “He’s not even in Tokyo. He has been running around the world for months”.
Taiju’s eyes hit the floor. “Oh”
Takashi feels the guilt of the outburst crawl up his throat like bile.
“I’m staying at home with my mum” Takashi admits. He has not even told any one of his friends, not anyone from Toman. “I’m not - it’s not -” He grits his teeth. “It’s not easy”
Taiju nods. “I’m going to lock up”.
Takashi feels so small, suddenly. He sighs, nods too. He thinks about going home to his sisters, who will not look up from their phones, or who won’t be in and his mother will be fretting over. I never worried like this over you, Takashi, you were so well behaved, she’ll say with tears in her eyes and then she’ll have to go and work a night shift. Then he’ll go to the room his sisters have slowly made their own and sleep in that same rickety tiny bed he promised himself he’d escape.
Takashi can’t. He can’t. He scrubs a hand over his face.
A hand lands on his shoulder. “Alright?”
“Yeah”, Takashi breathes. “Yeah, I’m fine”.
Taiju searches his eyes. “I’m not my brother”.
Takashi knows. God does he know. He could tell Taiju everything, he realises, every fucking horrible thought in his head and it wouldn’t begin to scratch what Taiju has actually done. And that’s a blessing, Takashi thinks sickly. It’s probably why he keeps coming back. Takashi deserves it, a little, doesn’t he? He deserves something to be selfish with.
“I hate sleeping at that house”, he says with a shrug.
“Come home with me”, Taiju says simply.
Takashi takes a breath in. “I’m not in the mood to fuck, really”.
Taiju’s cheeks flush. It’s sweet how the words get straight to him. “I wasn’t - that’s not -” He takes a breath in his nose, like a bull. “You can just sleep there”.
Takashi considers it. It would be nice, but something close to fear churns in his guts.
“Does your bedroom door lock?”, Takashi asks, before he can help it.
Taiju’s eyes go wide with fury. “I’m not a fucking animal, I wouldn’t -” He deflates, completely, something like despair coming over his face. “I’ll take the couch. It locks”. He walks away from Takashi, begins to lock the doors.
Takashi follows him. They don’t speak. They have nothing to speak about when Takashi isn’t faking soft and teasing pleasantries and Taiju isn’t on his knees begging. His car smells like cheap incense and cigarettes. It’s the exact smell that makes Hakkai go pale when they catch it anywhere. He’ll have to wash his jacket.
His apartment is new. Takashi has never been. It’s not as cluttered as his old house was. It would almost be anonymous if it weren’t for the crosses, the paintings. It’s so self-flagellating. Takashi runs his fingers across a counter, traces the countourns of an icon. If he was less tired he’d change his mind, probably, fuck Taiju here with all his statuettes watching.
Perhaps Taiju is thinking it too because his cheeks are scarlet when he nudges him, gestures towards a door.
“My bedroom”.
Right. Takashi expects Taiju to show him around, open the door for him but he doesn’t, he retreats instead, settles on the couch with his gaze on nothing. Takashi’s gaze flickers to the door, then back to the couch. Taiju’s rage from before stark in his mind.
He turns, sits down next to Taiju. His limbs splay on the couch as he leans back.
“Can I smoke in here?”, he asks.
Taiju is looking at him, weary. He nods, gets his pack without Takashi asking, hands him a cigarette. Takashi leans in, lets him light up for him.
They look at each other in silence. The feeling in Takashi’s stomach is odd, guilt mixed with pity.
“I am sorry”, he offers. Taiju’s gaze widens slightly. “I shouldn’t have said that. I know you are not an animal”.
It’s not the words he’d usually say but they are not playing their games, here. It feels wrong to take advantage of that in Taiju’s home. Taiju nods, licks his lips.
“Thank you”, he gets out. “I appreciate that”.
Takashi hums, smokes his cigarette. He can feel the heath coming from Taiju’s body even from here. He looks at him, his stark profile, hair in curls down his shoulders. He has changed, really, hasn’t he? It’s wrong for Takashi not to recognise that.
He finishes his cigarette, puts it out.
“Thanks”, he murmurs. “I’m gonna go to bed”.
Taiju watches him go in silence. Something under Takashi’s skin itches at that, maybe the desire for him to move instead, follow him through the door. He bites his lip when the door closes shut behind him.
The bedroom is more anonymous than the living room. There is only one crucifix, high over the bed. Takashi’s gaze runs over it. He wonders if that’s where Taiju looks when he gets hard, when he has to stop himself from rutting into the sheets.
He lays in bed. Everything is blessedly silent, he thinks, sighing, eyes fluttering shut. The bed is big, the sheets clean, the smell of incense not too strong to bother him.
It was kind, he thinks, of Taiju to offer him this. He didn’t have to. Maybe he is really doing better, maybe he should trust him more. Maybe Takashi has had an influence on him. Maybe it’s wrong to never answer his questions about Hakkai, about Yuzuha. Maybe Taiju would do better if -
He catches himself, eyes squeezing shut. He doesn’t need this, he thinks, he really doesn’t. He doesn’t need another person to nurture, to take the weight of, to help through life. And he doesn’t know, really, if this is an act, if he just plays up to Takashi to get what he wants. And Takashi even gives it to him, every single time.
Suddenly the whole night doesn’t look so selfish.
In his jacket his phone starts buzzing, near-silent. Takashi watches it light up, move around in the pocket, then die down and start again. He closes his eyes. Tomorrow, he thinks, he can get to that tomorrow.
He wakes up to noise, blinks awake and stretches out. He feels good, he feels well. Rested. It’s almost better than the sex. He takes a heavy breath in his nose, lets his eyes close again for a moment.
There is a knock, firm but soft.
“I’m coming”, Takashi murmurs, pulls on his clothes and lays Taiju’s sheets out so it looks like the bed was never touched.
He opens the door. Taiju is staring, his hair still loose, his clothes the same ones as last night, the shirt just undone, the trousers hanging beltless. Oh yeah, Takashi thinks, he was in his bedroom. He must have just slept on the couch, in the same clothes, in his drenched boxers, covered in sweat.
“I made breakfast”, Taiju says, stilted. “It’s ten -”
Fuck. That’s late.
“Nah, I can’t”, he mutters. “I - thanks - but -”
Taiju nods, clears his throat. There is light seeping in, sunlight coming in through his living room. Takashi can’t remember the last time he saw Taiju in daylight.
“You can’t”, Taiju seems to agree.
Takashi moves away, puts his shoes on. “But, listen. Last night was fun”. He knows his honesty will be distancing for Taiju. It’s a necessary evil for them both; to Taiju this is everything, to Takashi it has to be an outlet, an exploration, something different to the willowy models and industry creatives who fucking is basically networking.
Taiju doesn’t reply. Fair, maybe. It’s just fun.
“I’m gonna go”, he says.
Taiju just watches him. “I’ll see you again, right?”
“Yeah”, Takashi promises. “Maybe at some event, or -” He grits his teeth. “I’ll message”.
Relief floods Taiju’s features. He nods, curt.
“Well”, Taiju says. “Goodbye”.
Taiju moves forward, the movement so fast it makes Takashi step back. It takes him a split second to realise Taiju was going to hug him, that his arms are out a little, tense because he never does this.
Takashi steps forward. It’s stilted, affection-starved, the way Taiju hugs him close. It’s almost painful.
“Bye”, Takashi says. When he steps away Taiju’s hand drops to his wrist, not hard, it doesn’t grip. For a moment it’s impossible to pretend this doesn’t mean something, regardless of what it is.
He just doesn’t have the words. Maybe he never will. Maybe neither of them can ever find the words for what they mean to each other. It’s much safer that way.
Takashi steps forward again, a hand on Taiju’s jaw, he tips his head down a little and places a kiss against his cheek. Taiju is still under the touch, his eyes closed like he can’t watch him go. Takashi steps back, pulls open the door before either of them can do anything more.
Outside his phone rings. He answers with a sunken feeling in his chest.
“Hi”. It’s Hakkai, a chirrup. “You didn’t call me last night in the end. All good?”
“Ah yeah”, Takashi smiles, bites his tongue. “Just out”.
“Anywhere fun?”, Hakkai asks.
He looks back at the door. There is a cross on the door. It hangs just a bit squint. Takashi leans forward, adjusts it straight, strokes over the metal.
“Nothing good”, he promises, with a smile that hurts. “Nothing good at all”.