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The evening was lukewarm slow, starting lazy pristine, ending on a bad note. With all the efforts and thought put into the meeting to even happen, the excitement has died down with the second round of overpriced americano.
At this hour you should probably head to the bar. Yet you were here, still stuck sitting in the café alone. Waiting for the other party to join - you were growing tired already. Coffee growing cold.
What's all the preparations even made for, if there's no-one to impress. You even took into consideration, with precision, your favourite pin to wear.
Taking another distasteful sip of stale brew, you notice a bell ring at the front door. Just as it was starting to get old - finally, the guy you were waiting for.
He’s quick to look around to find you - which wasn't hard, you were pretty much the single customer now - while you hurried to dispose of the remaining coffee, spilling it into the flower pot next to you. Just to make him feel worse when he sees you in front of an empty cup with brown strains drying on its walls.
— Sorry, busy day!
He finally sits down in front of you. A man who looks out of place at the small bistro table with greenery to his side - it’s lower than it should be for his height. Out of all things, even his jacket doesn’t match the side planters in hue. You're annoyed.
— Hi, Morita-kun! As preoccupied as I’ve heard, — contrasting your mood you reply with a cheerful smile, pushing the out of place feeling onto the man in front of you instead. He was late by an hour or so, but is now facing your patient and friendly demeanour. You’re in that kind of bad mood today.
— Yeah, running behind today. I was going through paperwork, but the deadline got moved and I had to finish it all in one sitting, — Morita rubbed the back of his neck apologetically, then stood up shortly after, — Let me make it up to you? I'll cover the bill.
You nod and take your empty cup with you, not leaving the guy to his own devices now, walking together to the counter where a single waitress remained before closing. Trying to get on Morita's nerves yet again, not leaving him space, now that he’s in yours, finally. All the while you think of it as fishing instead.
— Your boss is a tough guy, — putting a crumpled bill down onto the counter, you don’t spare a second glance at the waitress or her measly change, facing only Morita then, — Tell me more about him?
Ordering two coffees, Morita nods to the side - the desserts under the glass case, cake pieces and pastry. His treat, huh. You didn’t hear what the order was, but you’ll use that to deduce his impression of you later. Hopefully it’d be entertaining, you think, and proceed to inspect the pastry display while he answers.
— He is… Strict, really. Doesn't tolerate mistakes and gets upset with anyone who isn't paying him enough attention, — Morita doesn't sound too preoccupied by that though, his tone is that of an admiration you notice. Like he is almost smiling saying that.
— Though I wish he would be a bit more… considerate with me when it's just us two.
Ah, now that makes the corner of his lips curl up - you notice it without even meaning to, a simple side glance is enough to confirm. You hum and stay neutral, not letting your amusement show - that's more than enough information you'd need to have on hand.
— Sounds like you have a soft spot for him… Is he such a good man you describe him to be? — you point to the velvet cake piece and straighten up, letting Morita run his mouth some more with a pause. That will be his eventual downfall, but he doesn't need to know-
— He's not, at least not on the outside. Everyone out of his close business circle sees him as a tough person and a man not to be messed with, and they're absolutely right on that one, — he shrugs, his smile turning gentle as he glances at two coffee cups now presented and ready on the counter, — But to me he's… a good person. More than I deserve anyway-
Both of you reach over the counter at the same time. As good as the conversation was going, you suddenly notice that Morita’s not lifting his cup first, and you pause. Staring at the spirals of milk and foam, hoping the moment to pass you by , you’re also not taking yours - something has changed.
— Are you sure you're just interested in my boss and not in me? I'm starting to get suspicious.
You swallow, fully knowing you were too naive to take an accomplice of Hirai Ginji too lightly up until now. Of course on the surface his response was just the continuation of the casual light talk, but you could fully sense he just uncovered your play. Even before you started taking it any further. So it's time to retract.
— Haha, got me, — you light up with an overplayed smile and squint your eyes, with a small clap of hands, — Maybe I'm just a little spy~
Though obviously a tease, the double meaning behind the joke, be that just a hunch or not, doesn't escape Morita's insight either.
— Is that so.
You barely manage to reach into your pocket as he already tackles you to the nearest wall. That is the exact same glass display of desserts, now illuminated behind your back that’s pressed into it. His hand grip is strong over your wrist and you slowly pull it out of the pocket - no hint that it’s a weapon you tried to reach for - so Morita would stop pushing you over with his forearm.
This doesn't end the struggle though, to get things worse he's much taller too - being covered by someone's shadow from head to toe wasn't in your plans for a cute café date today.
— Sorry, but I don’t recognise your pin, — Morita huffs out, like it's your own fault for nudging him in the first place.
Just an innocent joke and he's already manhandling a stranger in public? Someone had trained him well- maybe a bit too well for a small mind game like this.
— Ah, — you commit with a leer, — I'll let it slide. You're such a dog for Ginji! It was just a little test- I was just kidding, sharing a good little laugh with you! Ha-ha…
This should be enough, not too submitting, not too threatening. Morita doesn't let you go, but he surely postpones choking you under his weight now, grabbing you by the lapels next.
— Often things take a turn for the worst in the blink of an eye, I didn't think before I acted, — Morita doesn't back up even a tiny bit, even if his words suggest the opposite. Instead it sounds like a very half-assed apology, coming from the man who’s still at it. Pressing a smaller person into a wall - where did the manners go - you narrow your eyes behind your sunglasses.
— Old habits die hard, — Morita smirks. You scowl showing your teeth.
— Ah, so now you're searching for another guy to pin under? Taking a little revenge for being treated like that in the first place?
Both of your eyes don’t let each other go, waiting for whoever’s lunge comes first. Morita probably waits for an excuse or an explanation, you instead palm the glass wall behind yourself, trying to find better leverage.
— Naughty! Want me to report this to Gin-san directly?
Morita puts more pressure at your shoulders, as he towers above. You think of kicking him between the legs if he doesn't stop it in the next minute or so. Your patience is not to be tested.
— Who're you calling naughty here?!
He's obviously a hot head, but as soon as his jaw relaxed just a bit, you can see that he's ready to think about it further than the teasing word that caught his attention first.
— If you do, I will end you, — Morita spits, not really knowing what he is dealing with, trying to play it safe with a blunt threat. That's a crack you can scratch at with your fingernail though.
The waitress could’ve reached for the security button at least a dozen times now, but you don’t think she’s even behind the counter anymore. Now, you can’t guarantee if you’ll both walk out from this café.
— Talking big, but I can see you're hesitating, — you do your best attempt at shrugging without a single care in the world, though your shoulders already start to hurt from Morita's grip, — You don't even know if I'm someone sent to test you. We could be future partners in crime and you start our business on such a rude note-
This doesn't look good for your side still, but you can see his uncertainty grow - and Morita should already see that you’re not a threat to him. At the very least, not posing danger at this very moment. “So let me stand straight, you bastard” you almost hissed through your teeth, hiding behind the same nonchalance you wore since the beginning.
— Should be paying more attention to details, Morita-kun, — you finally add, and it's true - the lapel of the black jacket he holds so tight in his fist is already digging into his palm with metallic edges of a pin. Could be an office manager or a yakuza lieutenant before him - Morita has no prior knowledge to base this assumption on, said so himself.
— Could be a phone with someone on the other end in my pocket too, — you finally say, playing that card now; Morita doesn't need to know whether your hand is empty or two pairs (or whatever, you don't really know how to play poker in fact), — someone like Hirai Ginji you respect so much.
His stance becomes more and more uncertain. The thought of Ginji listening in to this conversation must’ve landed a blow to his certainty just now. Seeing what's happening between him and you was starting to mess with his thoughts.
— You're lying, right?
If not for the trained eye, you'd definitely let the heat rising to his cheeks go unnoticed. Treating someone who could be Ginji's guest, what's more, maybe a future business partner - manhandling an unarmed guy for just a simple suspicion - that was crossing the line in any case. But now faced with that fact Morita had no choice but to let you go.
Morita sighs, taking a step back and crossing his arms over his chest. He doesn't take his eyes off of you though, as he's still on alert. “I know you're bluffing anyway” he tries to show but not tell.
— Maybe, maybe not, — you straighten your jacket as well as correct the badge - four english letters over a line of seven colours. It makes you chuckle - of course Morita didn't know the meaning behind it. But just the presence of this small accessory served you well enough already.
— Maybe we should discuss it further over a cup of coffee, — you finally turn to the counter again, taking both your cup and a presented piece of cake, — No need for manhandling now, yes?
You watch Morita stand there, weighing his options. He huffs in annoyance and takes up his own cup too.
The silence is deafening. You sit down across each other, since taking your place you just exchange glares, calculating each other's next move.
Musing to yourself, you watch Morita shift in his seat, measuring you with a stare: taking in your foreign appearance and re-estimating what kind of danger he has sensed from your attitude before. There is something about this meeting - his intuition is usually correct, otherwise he wouldn't start up a fight on the spot.
You lower your eyes for a second to the coffee presented to you. It's a latte - Morita ordered you a latte with milk and spice and everything nice. You snicker and your eye twitches with annoyance. Now he's just asking for it - so you finally take the aforementioned phone from your pocket.
But actually it was just a tape recorder instead. And with a practised ease you click the buttons on it, rewinding to the exact place you started the record from.
"—you're just interested in my boss and not in me?"
Morita jumps to his own voice, he didn't suspect he was recorded, much less in such tone-
"Is that so."
Followed by grunt and distorted sound. Rewind forward.
"You're such a dog for Ginji-"
"Old habits die hard."
Forward, practised rewinds as if you were a professional interviewer instead.
"—for another guy to pin under yourself? Taking a little revenge for being treated like that in the first place?"
Clicks of plastic buttons, another rewind.
"Who're you calling naughty here?!"
Pause, last phrase and it comes to a halt.
"You're lying, right?”
What started on an assertive note ended on an uncertain one. The silence is once again stuck between you two. You lay the recorder down in front of you and make a show of pouring as much sugar into your coffee as you can. Clinking with your spoon without a second thought or glance sparred to Morita now, letting the discomfort settle in.
— What do you want? — Morita finally responds after he takes his time considering everything. You let him have this space just so he'd decide his next step - and crush it under your heel.
The thing is - it's not the worst thing ever that he had said on that tape. Sure it can be cropped and edited in a lewd way, but Ginji would not take it as anything but a joke.
But… Even if it's such a cheap bargaining chip, it's still present, it lays between you two right on top of the bistro table that’s not suited for conducting any business deals. Morita is not comfortable drinking coffee in the presence of it.
— You're talking to a senior and you're still addressing me like that? — tapping the pin, you put your leg down and the varnished leather shoe clicks over the floor, — You're not as well-mannered as I initially thought.
Morita's furrowed eyebrows don't relax, he straightens up with a frown.
— Name's Morita Tetsuo, 21 years old, I'm a business partner of Ginji Hirai, — he says, hands at his knees, — and you are?
— ▆▆▆ ▆▆▆▆▆, 27 years old, I'm a former business accomplice of Ginji Hirai, — you say, lying, bluffing all the way through - Morita doesn't need to bother remembering anything you have just said. Even your age is irrelevant here.
— You can just call me ▆▆▆ -san.
Morita nods and folds a napkin, clearing the table surface before putting his hands over it. Not his own gesture - he's copying something he once saw. His whole posture talks about his attitude - “now down to the business at hand”.
— I'm not bargaining for this silly little recording, — you reply, taking the coffee cup’s tender handle and pretending to take a sip, — My goal is just to have a friendly chat with you.
Morita's clearly on guard, he doesn't take the conversation lightly anymore, running his thoughts about what you’re implying, if this is yet another threat. In the end you didn’t answer his question at all. And how could there ever be a friendly chat in the first place, if you're his senior.
— Why didn't you contact me before?
Lowering your cup back to the plate with a flower print, you enjoy the clink of fine china before voicing the answer.
— You’re advertising your number on yellow pages now? Didn’t find you in the category of deforestation yet, — you smirk, lifting the porcelain cup with your pinky out, — Or did you want me to set up an appointment through Ginji instead?
Morita lifts his shoulders once again. He's clearly on alert as you keep mentioning that name again and again. You smile inwardly - of course you know why. But you'll spare him another minute or two before revealing your cards.
— Saw you at one of the recent conferences. Never thought the day would come for Ginji to take up an apprentice. What does he teach you, even?
Morita's both furious and has that tint to his cheeks again. You already know, just enjoying the longplay.
— Then I tried contacting you to make friends. Or something else. Time will show, — he doesn't even remember your face, or your name from then, but you'll make sure he will now, — Grow the network so to speak.
Because of course Morita doesn't: you two have never met before or even sat in the same room. And you're not yakuza and you're not the former accomplice. The only connection you have to the underworld is homosexuality.
You just have information on hand and play the game by using hints that Morita is so casually dropping left and right - all for you to use nicely and play tricks on him. He was generous with everything you could've asked for up until now, and even more. Such a short encounter and he's already an open book.
Not his fault - you're just used to dealing with young boys like him. All in full bloom from the first ever spring love.
— Is professional curiosity, about a legendary fixer taking up a partner all of a sudden, not ever seen or heard of before- Isn't it just enough to schedule a meeting with you?
“Are you such a big deal, Morita? You're yet to make a name for yourself”, you push at the uncomfortable side yet again. Morita doesn't flinch, but he's clearly invested now. So much for a tough act - a few words commemorating his mentor and he's all ears.
Morita takes up the tense silence again - but of course, after all you're not giving him any information to bounce off of in the conversation, so he's clamming up and not taking the bait.
You sigh, overdramatically so, like he's boring you. Taking out a pack of ciggies, biting the end of the filter and making a show of putting it back.
— Look, Morita, I already know all about you and your relationship with Hirai-san, — you're still avoiding eye contact, all too preoccupied taking your time finding the lighter, avoiding the pocket it's in.
— You do? — Morita retorts, his neutral expression says it all, he's confident he's holding the information private and not giving out anything yet, — So what is it then?
He casually leans in with a fire ready for you. And if up until now you’ve been raising your bet hoping for the dealer's mercy, it just paid out. So, you now proclaim with confidence:
— You're sleeping together, of course.
He grips his lighter tight. Oh, you can see him trying not to bite the inside of his cheek. But he's given you more than enough already - that gesture just now was so casual that you cannot fathom the idea of it being quite the opposite anymore. Before long Morita turns your empty hand into a whole royal flush.
— There is some gossip too, — you continue as if it's you who's revealing the cards, but actually you both know that you're already putting Morita in the spotlight with this talk, and the light will start to hurt the eyes soon.
— It's acceptable enough, you're a young apprentice and he's passing his experience onto you...
“Except it's rubbing you in all the wrong places, right?” is left unpronounced; you take an inhale full of smoke.
“I can see you almost stopped breathing as soon as you understood what I'm getting at.”
— This, — you take the recorder with your previous not-so-friendly conversation in your hand, some smoke escaping your mouth at the same time, — holds no value. It's just a lame joke, Ginji would never take it seriously. It could never spoil your image in his eyes.
Pause, tapping the cigarette ash over the potted plants to your side.
— Except you don't want him to hear it at all.
Taking the filter to your lips, you bite into it and toy with the tape recorder buttons instead, rubbing the plastic of the red one with an unusual intent.
— You want me to press the delete and see the tape rewind until it's all wiped out. All for a simple fact that has held you hostage for such a long time now-
You smirk not letting Morita's face out of your sight - he's adorable when put in his place.
— You love Hirai Ginji with all your heart. And it makes even the simplest thing you share in the bed so much more complex-
He's not angry, Morita hides instead: he's retreating behind a hand over his mouth just because it hurts to be told your own secret inner torments all to your face. It sets his nerves on fire.
He blushes, narrows his eyes - because in a pause you're holding while smoking, he has already figured out what you will say next.
— Because he doesn't love you in return.
His eyes are stinging - he knows it more than anyone. And that overreaction gives you enough to conclude:
— Moreover, he doesn't even see you as his equal yet…
Morita sits there hanging his head low, he's curling his hands into the fists and tries to comprehend what he should even do with you knowing his premonitions so closely.
He's as good as naked in the face of wind. And all he can do is stand firm, wait until it dies down - at your mercy now. The tables have turned, he just didn’t notice when.
You can go slowly. He's already under so much pressure from his sour thoughts running wild, all the while you just smoke lazily. He doesn't need to admit anything out loud and it stings even worse because of that. Because of the certainty you said it with, giving his fears shape and form, making them real and tangible. They're shared in plain sight with the person he doesn't even know - someone who just introduced themselves for the first time minutes ago.
You're basically partners in crime now. You chuckle - it was that easy, yes.
— Come now, I don't want to cause you trouble, — you offer, slowly putting a hand with a cigarette forward, a friendly gesture for him to lift his eyes up to.
— I'm not saying that to get on your bad side, — you add, a small smile over your lips - it's enticing to believe that it's kind and offering.
— We can solve your little troubles and you'll manage to get this man's heart into your own tender hands. Isn't it what you'd want?
Morita hesitates, he can't take a deal like this. He can't trust you - at all. It's only enticing because it's a gamble - you both know it too.
— Be my friend, amuse me, and we'll make sure Hirai-san is your own for the rest of your life, — you push your cigarette's end into the floral print of the plate with the cake. Serves this café right for not being smoker friendly.
Speaking of which - the waitress comes right on time. She looks at you two with a judging eye, but doesn't say anything. She just gives you the bill, hinting at the closing hours sign.
You smirk not taking your eyes from Morita's slightly guilty gaze, pushing your wallet open and running a thumb over the cash. A few more and she has her eyes round in the face of the sum she could pay off her pachinko debt with.
“Leave us alone,” and you hide the wallet and move the plates; the waitress locking the front door and switching the sign to “Closed” only gets on Morita's nerves.
You move to the side and drag the second chair next to yourself - a loud screech of metal scrapping the tiled floor. You make a show out of leaning back, with your hand over the back of your chair, crossing your legs once again.
— Sit down next to me, — you say as Morita is watching you, but is still afraid to make a move, — And feed me that cake.
Morita’s just a deer caught in the headlights - he's indecisive and there’s no time to think it over carefully now - he doesn't even know what's the right manners, or how to decline respectfully. He just wanted a quick cup of coffee and a new hand to shake in the night business he believes you two share. Now his pretty head is preoccupied with trying not to pour his bleeding heart out, all because you know about his embarrassing little crush. He's that obedient, follows your lead - sitting down where it was pointed to.
Morita is careful not to touch the ash as he lifts the spoon and the cake. He's silent because he doesn't know what to say while pointing a treat in your direction. The only mindful thing he's doing right now is holding his other hand under it, so if a crumb or two falls he'll catch it before it could leave a stain. It's good enough - you lean forward to take a bite.
You're slow and silent, you swallow and return to eyeing Morita's unsure state. He must be doing something right he thinks - at least you're not pushing him to the edge anymore with your words.
A quick glance at the plate and he's getting the hint, taking another spoonful of soft sponge texture and cream. He's slower this time - closer to your face but he's scowling at the situation yet again.
“Is this really necessary?” - Morita surely wants to ask, but you just take another bite, and neither reply nor acknowledge his silent plea to stop the smallest humiliation he's participating in. Play-pretend of a cute date in a now closed public café. You two should be in a bar - that's what men do at this hour and time. Yet Morita is made to play this role, which makes his skin crawl with the implications he's not comfortable with. He has no say in what you two do from this point in time and he secretly knows it too. Just not enough to let himself get desperate yet, the thought of “I can just leave whenever I want” still sounding solid and true.
He does know the stone he's standing on is slowly getting eradicated by the water though. It had already shaken as soon as you pronounced the forbidden words aloud. No, there's no easy escape left.
— My turn, — you interrupt, taking the spoon from his hand. But you don't play nice, holding his wrist still by your grip first.
Morita's unnerved but not to the point of no return. And you make sure to get him there - grabbing his chin and holding him in place will suffice just nicely. A small piece of cake on the silverware is not moving from the plate as you look at him from below. Not only Morita would have to lean closer because of the height difference, but also-
— Say ah, Morita-kun, — you add.
His eyebrows furrow just a second before he lets it go. Whatever, he must think, it's not a matter of dignity, it's just another senior making fun of him.
And what a nice trail of thoughts that must be - whoever implanted those into his pretty head was a genius in act. And you both know that genius’s name - and it's forbidden and it's present in the room all this time, but left unpronounced… but only until it strikes your fancy again.
— No need to be this stiff, — you keep smirking. You already have Morita on the palm of your hand, literally sitting with his mouth open for whatever you'll feed him now, yet it's not enough.
— Close your eyes and pretend it's Ginji who's doing that. You'll feel much better then, won't you?
The tremble he responded with is just nice - it settles down in the back of your mind. He's preoccupied and he doesn't see what's wrong with your offer as well. He's a good boy who-
— Ah, — Morita finally lets out a sound he needs to get a treat.
-who doesn't know any better but do as he's told. Follow the lead. A gentle push, a small tug - he's so pliant.
You almost lick your lip at the sight - he really does make a lewd display of eating a cake from your spoon. He's not taking off his chin laying over your palm, and you're letting it rest, not holding him by force anymore. He's chewing and swallowing - you rub your thumb at his lower lip in fake pretence of aftercare.
His handsome face gives out the smallest tick - you know well, you chose the most disgustingly creamy and sweet cake you could. Because you knew what you'll use it for right from the very beginning too. And the latte, which you made sure to fill with sugar up to the brim, will be the thing you'll make him nauseous with next.
Taking the smallest strawberry from the top, rubbing it into whipped cream of the cheapest quality and presenting it to Morita on the spoon - so he'd imagine this disgusting, yet familiar with aftertaste of being forced to, dessert being fed to him by Ginji's hand - he's exactly at the place you wanted him to be.
— He calls your dick useless when he fucks you, right?
All fours, Morita's fully naked on the hotel bed with a stranger he just met a week ago. Yet he lets that person use his hands in leather gloves over him: jerk him off, touch him, make his head feel empty from the constant stress his young body is in. All because he's left alone to take care of it… Ginji's pretty cruel - he's not making sure such a sweet thing walks home alone every night.
— Yes, yes- ah, because it is useless- I am useless to him-
He almost cries, his eyes are already welling up and Morita has no idea how to stop this. He's too far gone in both his memories and thoughts. Too preoccupied to notice.
— Make a good use of your body and seduce him, I know you can do it just right, — you grab his chin lifting his lowered head up, thumb over his lips which part with each new pump his dick is getting from you. His soft moans fill up the room.
— Good looks, handsome face, you're so close to making him fall in love with you.
His whole expression is begging for release - not exactly reaching it: getting pushed to the edge physically, because that's what his body is missing and yearning for, yet denied by his mind, which gets tortured by the mere thought of Ginji right now - the mentor that gives him everything he needs, but nothing he wants.
You press a thumb in between his teeth and deep onto his tongue, to get him to focus on your words while he pushes down the gag reflex.
— Get your act together and buy him roses in return, — “right as I finish leaving the hickeys on your neck and he'd punish you for those” you leave unspoken.
— Invite him to a dinner and let the bill run wild, do a little bar dance and share a drink, - you continue but he's no listening anymore; Morita's already just drooling over your fingers and trying to retain the tears from spilling out - he gets to understand he's getting scolded from the mere tone of voice and he shivers from it. You push two of your fingers even further and make him choke from the sudden intrusion of his mouth - his eyes fly open again.
— The possibilities are endless, — just as suddenly you pull your hand away and wipe it over the pillow next to his face, - Yet you're here in a hotel room with another man- What are you doing? What is even wrong with you?
His head hangs low as Morita coughs out, sweat rolling down his shoulders as he swallows his throat dry.
— Please don't tell Gin-san, — he blindly searches for your face, looking behind for any empty promise that'd soothe his consciousness for now, — please, just leave it be-
— Useless, — you yank his hair back, gracing Morita with a faster pace, — just as your dick.
He's getting off on it - the moans are loud enough as a sign. Morita doesn't want just to get pressed into the pillow by another man - he craves attention that is only given when he's humiliated like this. Ginji found himself such a good apprentice-
He moans to his heart's contempt, even if Ginji crashes and makes that same heart bleed - beloved "Gin-san" not only being absent in the room, but not even leaving Morita a chance to perceive you as a substitute for him today, the way you did before. Morita honestly expected you'd continue and bring the role-play into bed, just because he was such a good boy for you earlier-
— Cum, show me the face we have to work on.
And he does. In earnest honest work, he does as you please, just because he's used to this as an order. He doesn't even feel any warmth of your hand or your skin, just gets pushed over the edge to cover your black leather glove in white streaks - because that's what's expected of him to do. He's such a nice sight when you roll him onto his back to see-
— Nasty, — you hold the satisfied smile all inside, for Morita you put up the worst kind of face full of disgust and resentment, because that's exactly what he gets for being so good for you, — You look like a brat and I'm already holding myself back from slapping you.
The shame, the guilt. Every single wave of it rolls down his shoulders, making him red to his face, wanting to hide it but he can't - just weakly grabbing the bed sheets. His body is cooling down as he bites at his lower lip, averting his eyes. He lets you enjoy the full view while he's at it though - you'd understand if he'd immediately curl up onto himself to keep warm now. Did Ginji form that habit too?
— That's it? No more show and tell? — you interrupt his adorable afterglow. He jolts - his ears perk up at the tone, alerted - he has probably done something wrong.
— Already wasted after one time? — you take off your glove and throw it to the dirty pile of Morita's clothes next to the bed. It's time for another trick.
— You're a total virgin in bed.
A telling shiver tracing Morita's back - he's oversensitive and he's getting off on words yet again. What a nicely trained puppy-
— He calls you his virgin boy, huh? — and you two know it's exactly right, Morita already told you the answer with his honest to the fault body presented to you. Presented to the view of a more experienced man, who reads him like an open book. What a nasty thing to have as a fetish - no wonder Morita gets used so thoroughly in the underground business - a world full of men ready to dip their fingers in such a dessert that he is.
— Of course he's right, you are a total virgin. Until you share a bed with a woman, that is, — you shrug, sounds about right - that's probably something Ginji would say, being the conservative scum he is. It's absurd how much you get to know a man by just reading the mind of his well-trained protégé. You start to like their pair more and more.
Leaning closer, you sit over Morita's stomach, not caring that he can only enjoy the sensation of your black suit pants instead of skin contact. What surprises you more though - he immediately gets his hands over your hips, ready to support your weight if needed. He knows the pose, he knows how to behave in this position- Oh god, does Ginji ride him?!?
— Well, he's always right about you, — you try not to show the astonishment the whole revelation brought upon you just now and continue your play. It's all about Morita in any case.
— If Ginji reads you like an open book- You must be boring to him…
— No, we- we spend time together outside... of work… — Morita tries shyly, almost as if we're finally getting to the heart of his secret crush. But you're sorry - you're not here to gossip about his love and dreams.
— Like this? — you measure his naked torso and return to his darkened eyes, — You're no better than a hired prostitute with no experience to talk about.
His hands are gripping at your waist and a hip, he's trying to ground himself from the worst by grasping at your clothes. But you have even worse to say out loud, to spell it out for Morita, who's too naive to give up his hope completely.
— Except he's having you for free, — you click your tongue as if you're annoyed at his naivety - for thinking he can ever get a speckle of love in return. It makes him stifle a sob, not having a place to hide from that thought anymore, — A click of fingers and you're ready to lick his shoes, right, cherryboy?
He's crying right in your hands. He's so ready and hard to please you and make you feel good, but you're not giving him any chance to prove himself useful at all. Yet he craves it, he wants that, some plain old sex and he'd provide everything he can, just so you'd be left satisfied with his job well done. All he asks in return is just a little praise, a small “good boy”.
You can probably make him fall in love with you, if you play your cards right. But that's not what you're here for. Not at all.
Still, his torment brings up the worst in you. To have such a “virgin” all under your heel - Ginji's one lucky bastard. You pull at Morita's hair just because you're starting to get jealous of it.
— What if I'm a woman under these clothes? — you gesture over your buttoned-up shirt and Morita perks up as if it had never occurred to him before, - I'm androgynous enough, you may not know. What if I sleep with you and you're not the sweetest virgin boy to Ginji anymore?
Morita breaks in cold sweat. His black hair sticks to his forehead and temples as he doesn't utter a single word, trying to comprehend the sudden storm of thoughts occupying his head.
— Your fatal mistake for not asking permission beforehand, — you smile all nice just because you know it'll add to the sudden illusion you pushed over him.
— I don't think that I need permission to sleep with a woman… — he says in a short retort.
— Willing to bet on that?
His eyebrows furrow - he knows Ginji as well as you understand them both. He can't risk offending his mentor without prior knowledge if something is even permitted for him in the first place.
The red travelling to his cheeks reveals it all - he knows he's a prized possession but he still doesn't know why. And only you know that it's not the illusive virginity that it's all about. Morita doesn't. He runs himself into the corner with a question if it's even acceptable for him to lose virginity with a woman without asking his mentor first. So cute and naive - so easy to play around with.
— Sorry, must be a painful mental exercise for your pretty head, — you pull at his chin, open his mouth: he won't need it from now on.
You hate the way he sounded so much less restrained with his last comeback just now. All because you've made him consider you could be a woman? Makes your blood boil.
You make good use of the hand that is still left with a glove on, pushing a thumb covered in leather over his lower teeth, making his mouth hang open with a small sound of protest escaping his throat.
— I'm going to fuck your handsome face now, — you state without any remorse. Unzipping your pants, tugging your underwear down - you'll let him confirm if you're a man or a woman all by himself.
Morita's eyes on you, silent pleas escaping his mouth while he can't close it because of your hand gripping his jaw, making him salivate while he tugs at your shirt - he looks almost scared.
Soon he won't be able to utter a single word while you're using him, pull at his hair to move his head, leave him leaking to the harsh treatment that he will be put through… Oh, you're going to enjoy that-
— Relax your jaw. Close your eyes and imagine it's Ginji who's punishing you. You'll feel so much better then-
You're no longer sitting across each other divided by a table now. It's usually some bar and you're right next to him, your legs almost brushing. Whiskey glasses that are never empty, both of you can pay.
It's almost equal in a sense - at least Morita finally feels like he has found someone more equal to him than anyone from his neatly tied team of middle-aged and older men. He must be tired from being their errand boy the whole time, you think, watching Morita's lowered shoulders and puffy eyes. Or did something happen between him and his desired favourite Gin-san? It can be either that or he just ran to the bathroom before your arrival to cry due to the lack of a better place to hide his constant stress.
— You alright? — you try nudging his elbow, just so he'd produce any kind of response, quit being such a gloomy sight in the silence of never-ending jazz radio. But Morita just shrugs and dismisses it with a shallow smile. It gets broken as soon as he eyes the alcohol instead of your face again.
You sigh - and here you thought it'd be a nice time off from the regular work, getting to squish your favourite stress toy in the afterhours. But it's just not fun when he's such a sorry sight.
Finally, you take the last swing of whiskey and put it down to the counter with a clink of ice cubes. You turn to Morita's side, making the stool squeak in protest. And he doesn't look at you yet, just peeks a little, thinking about what could be the matter now.
— Come here.
Morita finally gets the tone and his eyes widen with rosy tint over his cheeks in surprise: your arms are proposed open to him. It's his turn to decide whether he will take it or not, and you're generous enough not to push.
It was obvious actually. Of course, he will. Who else Morita has to turn to? You can enjoy a tight embrace, he's leaning towards you in return. He's almost desperate at grasping your shoulders like never before. Maybe something did happen today. If he'd be generous enough to share, you'd probably try to hold yourself back from teasing him about it later.
— Here, here, — you slowly run your hand over his back and he shivers just slightly. Must be a tight bundle of nerves if he's so sensitive from a simple hug. He'd probably soon start sniffling, if you don't give him anything to nibble on.
You slowly lean forward, putting your head over his shoulder then. He's taller and it's hard to reach without completely lifting your head up and stretching your neck, but Morita's doing all the job - lowering and pressing his face into your shoulder in turn, trying to appear small. He's just grasping for the last straw of stability and you can sense some gnawing desperation in that.
His grief over the lack of progress between him and Ginji must be taking a toll. You wonder if he even performs as well as he did before- Maybe he got scolded by failing some kind of task today and there's no one to turn to because of that . You wonder if things will ever progress actually - so it will be both Ginji who's scolding and Ginji's who's providing him comfort after. Who knows if that man can even survive providing both roles in Morita's life. He sounds like a person who'd easily break under the pressure of a tender romantic partner like Morita.
— It's alright, you didn't do anything wrong, — you slowly run your hand over his wide shoulders and back, slowly and methodically calm, making Morita step back from the tight knot of problems occupying his head. He still doesn't tell anything and just listens in. His shoulders slightly relax the longer you let your body heat and alcohol calm his mind.
— I can play pretend if that'll help you today, — you give your short consent to that thing he got so addicted to. Not without your help as the dealer of course.
— If it's okay… — Morita mumbles, not daring to look up earlier, nuzzling even closer, some more.
— Yeah, I can give you things Ginji's not capable of yet, — you whisper over his ear and he slightly shivers, you know he's getting red to his face. That's why he pushes into the small space between your shoulder and shirt’s collar, hiding it all.
— Yeah, just close your eyes and see him, - you slowly put your hand over his head, carefully and slowly petting it, trying not to disturb a single strand of the carefully laid hair.
— You've done a good job today, — you're saying what Morita wants to hear, slowly push your fingers through the brush of his ponytail and enjoy the way it touches your fingers so softly.
— You did so well, — you shift just slightly, lowering your head so you two are touching by your temples now .
— Good job, Morita, — you whisper the sweet name while putting lips to his sideburn and leave the smallest kiss. The effect it leaves him with is immediate and you can see it too - he's blushing up to the tips of his ears. He lets out the smallest sounds, which could be distinguished as something in between the “more” and “please”.
— Doing all that work just for me, — you rub your head next to his, almost cheek to cheek, gently just as your hand continues toying with the end of his ponytail. He's grasping your jacket for the lack of better support as he goes through all those emotions overwhelming him the best way possible.
— And I love that about you, — you say, side-eyeing Morita so carefully now, trying not to scare a cornered animal that he is, trying to soothe him with the best words you could find.
— I need you, — you say, one last touch as you lay your hand to rest over his nape. He's snuggled so nicely and warm - you want to close your eyes and relax in return. He's having an effect on you just as you do on him.
Morita slowly lifts up his head, his eyes are darkened, he looks as sad as he's calm and barely smiling. He slowly touches your cheek with a single knuckle of his finger, then cupping it with his hand and caressing your face with his thumb. So careful, like you're the fine china in his hands.
And in a sense, you are - you're his fleeting illusion of another man he chases day in and day out. He's careful because he's afraid to ruin this mirage, this daydream for himself.
— I love you, Gin-san, — he proclaims in a half-sobbing voice and leans in with the sweetest kiss.
He's tender and cute and he's so kind trying to make it comfortable, too. He's just a gentleman stealing a kiss and not making you regret it. You make good use of it - letting him feel it as you turn your head to the side, making space for his tongue by opening your mouth.
Go on, enjoy the kiss that'll spoil your first with Ginji whenever that happens to be. Be a good boy and practice for what you'd achieve in a year or two of hard work.
You're all for it - letting the smallest sigh escape your lips as he pushes right in, as his tongue glazes yours and slight shiver runs down your back in his hands. Oh, Ginji will do that too… He'd enjoy getting his handsome protégé being needy and spoiled and so so good at begging for more, like he does right now.
You almost don't regret taking it all upon yourself in the first place. You almost get lost - that it's Morita who is kissing you, not him, too. Sweet illusion getting both of you to melt into each other's hands with the haunting ghost of a man never present as the third person in the room.
Or, maybe, he never left. Maybe, it's just given that wherever Morita steps, it's Ginji's presence he's carrying too.
You wonder if Ginji could be as dependent on Morita as Morita is on him. You wonder if right now he's all alone in some hotel room - no one to kiss and no one to share whiskey with, all while his apprentice kisses another man in a secluded bar. You wonder how long it will take Ginji to notice all the worst thoughts you've been sowing seeds for in Morita's head. You wonder if it'll backfire too.
After all, you never had bad intentions in the first place. It's just that these two men are stupid enough to gamble with their life on the line, but get so insecure when it's their pathetic feelings that are touched. You wonder how much more you should push until Morita crumbles and folds, and finally confronts it directly in the end.
But anyway, that's not up to you, right? Just enjoy the here and now. Just drown in the man you find attractive while he thinks of another too. You let him smile with the fantasy his boyish heart barely handles to manage, let him try and explore while he sits in your hands.
“You're gonna be the end of me” - with a dreamy sigh.