The Absence Equation - Chapter 6
Title: The Absence Equation - Chapter 6
Group/Pairings: NewS. Pairings: Koyama/Shige, Massu/Yamapi
Rating: R
Warnings: Violence, cursing, sexual implications.
Words: 2,510
Summary: First try: "The fate of the world as they know it rests in the hands of one Kato Shigeaki. Oh shit." Possibly more coherent try (though it sounds like a lame old-school sci fi jacket blurb): The A.I. guarding cyberspace is forced to choose between eternal imprisonment and self-destruction. With the fate of the world resting in their hands, they must race against time to give her a third option before it's too late.
Prologue - Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 4 | Chapter 5 | Chapter 6 | Chapter 7 | Chapter 8 | Chapter 9 | Chapter 10 | Chapter 11 | Chapter 12 | Chapter 13 | Epilogue
---
Chapter 6 - 110
He must have fallen asleep sometime during the night, he realized, because now he was peeling himself off his keyboard because Masuda was prodding him.
“Time to go,” the man said, a grim look on his face.
“What?” he asked thickly, and reached up to try to rub the bleariness out of his eyes.
“They already know you’re in New York City. It’s time to go.”
“Fucking Jansen,” Shige muttered thickly. “What time is it?” he asked as he clumsily packed.
“Five in the morning.”
Shige grumbled under his breath about how damn perky Masuda was for only having had two hours of sleep. Koyama and Tegoshi had already left for the train station and Masuda and Shige hailed the next cab. Masuda sprawled across his seat, passively watching the buildings flash by while Shige sat, muscles tense as he drummed nervous fingers against his thigh. He knew better than to ask where they were going.
When they got to the station, Koyama and Tegoshi were already seated facing each other, Koyama’s eyes lost behind his visor again and he was probably watching something if the way his fingers were moving against his leg were any indication, and Tegoshi had his laptop open, typing away furiously. Shige slid into the seat next to him and opened his own, goggling in so he could hide what he was working on.
His mind was feeling hazy and his head bobbed a couple times until Tegoshi prodded him and he pushed his goggles up to look questioningly at him.
“Let’s see,” he said, and waited for Shige to hand over the goggles. They conversed in overly hushed tones, Tegoshi’s lips grazing his ear a few times and making him shiver. He was so tired he was getting hot and cold flashes and nausea was cramping his stomach, and then he looked up to see Koyama looking in his direction, hands still against his thighs.
“Tegoshi,” Koyama said flatly.
Tegoshi looked silently back at him before closing his own laptop and handing it across to Masuda before taking Shige’s. “Get up, Takayama. Jun is sleepy.”
Shige shot him a confused look but then Koyama was standing over him looking expectant, and he stood and moved to sit across from Masuda. Masuda tugged surreptitiously on Shige’s arm until his head was pillowed on Masuda’s shoulder and Shige felt barely a moment of awkwardness before he slipped out of consciousness.
He woke some time later, embarrassed to find himself slumped nearly into Masuda’s lap and he sat bolt upright, blinking slowly. Masuda offered him a bottled water and a sandwich with a smile, and Shige couldn’t help smiling shyly back as his stomach gurgled in anticipation. Koyama’s fingers were tapping again, but he felt a rush of affection. He ate quickly and took his seat next to Tegoshi back, letting his fingers brush Koyama’s as they switched places, and poked Tegoshi.
“Hand it over,” he said jovially.
Tegoshi took the goggles off after a moment and passed them over. “Have a nice nap?” he asked sweetly.
Shige raised an eyebrow at him.
About six hours after leaving New York City, the train pulled into their destination: Rochester, New York.
“Will he be here?” Tegoshi asked Masuda cryptically.
“He said so,” he replied with a shrug. “He’ll meet us there at midnight.”
Shige tugged his jacket tighter around him and looked about. Glum. That’s about all he could say about it. “What’s in Rochester?” he asked skeptically as they waved over one of the waiting cabs.
A bright grin spread across Masuda’s face. “You’d never guess.”
~~~
Masuda was right. He never would have guessed.
At ten p.m., they followed Masuda through a complicated set of alleys, under the half opened garage door of an old fire station, down a long, grime-encrusted flight of stairs into a garish mix of fluorescent lighting and a strange abandoned subway marketplace. There was the hint of music in the raucous noise, a sustained note here, an identifiable riff there, but mostly clashing bass beats vibrating through the soles of his feet up his vertebrae to jangle against the base of his skull. The crowd was mainly African-American from what he could tell, but he could see plenty of other ethnicities represented, not a small few Asian.
Tegoshi was filming, Shige checking the datapad every now and then, and Tegoshi stopped often, fingering filmy material in one stall, a row of glass beads in another, the techno-purpose of which Shige couldn’t fathom but he spent a few moments admiring the intricate circuitry embedded in each fingernail-sized bead before Tegoshi tugged him away by his sleeve.
“What is this place?” he shouted in Tegoshi’s ear.
Tegoshi just shrugged and pointed to Masuda.
They finally ended up in the back booth of a crowded bar drinking things Shige hoped he wouldn’t regret later because he certainly couldn’t identify them now.
“What is this place?” he repeated his question loudly, his mouth as close to Masuda’s ear as possible.
“Best kept secret on the northeastern U.S. coast,” Masuda yelled back happily. Which told him nothing.
Tegoshi was off chatting and dancing with people in the bar and Shige watched, bored, as the datapad recorded it all. Then Masuda was nudging him and he and Koyama stood to follow Masuda as he plucked Tegoshi from the crowd and made his way to a dark hallway at the back of the bar. Shige watched a shadowed man slip into a door on the right and Masuda followed after, waiting until everyone was in to shut the door and flip a switch that did nothing Shige could tell. Probably scrambling any audio scanners.
The man half-sat against the sturdy table in the middle of the room, arms crossed over his somewhat broad chest, a worn baseball cap pulled a little low, and he looked completely at ease. There was nothing special about any of his features taken separately (except maybe those lips, Shige thought fleetingly) but all together they were something quite breathtaking. His skin was completely clear and when he pulled off his hat, he was bald, not a modification in sight. Shige gasped.
“A non-mod?” he asked.
Masuda nodded then spoke to the man. “Pi,” he said with a grin, “long time no see.”
Pi smiled lazily back. There were quick introductions, then Pi, whose name was actually Yamashita, moved away from the table, smoothly sliding into one of the seats, and the four of them followed his lead.
“What’s a non-mod doing in a place like this?” Shige asked.
The man’s face took on a sage look before he answered airily, “We go where we are needed.” And then he and Masuda started cracking up. Yamashita’s laugh was higher pitched and more giggly than Shige ever would have anticipated.
“Pi is not actually a non-mod,” Masuda explained. “Well,” and his gaze moved over the man’s body, “he is unmodified, but he doesn’t hold their religious beliefs.” Non-mods were originally derived from the Mormon religion. In fact, they still had their base in Utah. There were no Mormons who were not non-mods and few non-mods who were not Mormon. “He joined them a few years ago in order to work through their ranks and gather intelligence.”
“He’s a spy,” Tegoshi supplied helpfully.
“Y-ees. He’s a coder. And he’s here because I asked him to be.”
“So what’s going on?” Yamashita asked Masuda.
“We have… a problem. Kato-san, here, is carrying a pretty serious virus. It can melt down cyberspace in a matter of minutes. We’re fairly certain the non-mods have set it up, but Kato’s not the only courier. We need to know if it is the non-mods backing and if it is, we need to know how to get Kato in to the systems core to put his anti-virus in if we can’t find the other courier in time. Obviously we’d prefer getting to the courier first, but...”
Shige held up his hands and hurried to remind Masuda, “But I’m not done with the anti-virus yet.”
“You will be,” Tegoshi said serenely. “I have faith in you.”
Yamashita’s face had gotten more and more serious as Masuda had spoken and now he was outright frowning. “I don’t have access to that kind of information, Taka. That’s hardcore.”
Tegoshi leaned forward eagerly. “But do you know enough to help me hack into the system and find out? That’s the question.”
Yamashita looked uncomfortable. “They’ve got crazy ice, Tegoshi. Black. And if you’re looking for information like that, if it’s there, that’s what you’d have to hack.”
Shige looked over to Koyama who’d been quietly listening to the conversation. But he’d gone completely still when Pi had said the magic phrase, “black ice.” Shige never messed with the stuff. Koyama wouldn’t let him and, honestly, Shige had no uncontrollable need for the high hacking it afforded. He wasn’t one to live for thrills. But…
“If we don’t, cyberspace goes down and I might as well be dead anyway,” Tegoshi said emphatically and Shige felt an echo in himself.
Shige noticed the flat look in Tegoshi’s eyes and shuddered. But it was true for most cowboys - they lived in cyberspace. When they had to, they walked among the meat, but for the most part, they stayed in cyberspace. Tegoshi was not as far gone as most cowboys, but Shige knew he was dependent on it; regardless of how much time he spent outside it for his “other” career - Tegoshi’s real job was hacking. Shige couldn’t lie to himself, though, Tegoshi had it bad, but Shige wasn’t far off - Koyama might not be enough for even him if the ‘net died.
Chewing nervously on his nails, Pi finally looked into Tegoshi’s eyes. “Well, it’s your life. I’ll do what I can.”
Shige thought that if Tegoshi didn’t die from the ice, he might die from all this excitement.
They decided to hold off on working the anti-virus that night in favor of getting some sleep for a change, that way they’d be ready in the morning for meeting with Yamashita and preparing for the hack. All five returned to the hotel, but when Shige went toward his and Massu’s room, Tegoshi tugged on his sleeve.
“Get your bag and bring it over.”
Shige blinked at him. “I’m sorry?”
Tegoshi gave him the dirtiest grin he’d ever seen and then winked and a girl that happened to be passing them in the hallway tripped over her own feet.
Shige retrieved his bag with a frown on his face, but when Koyama let him in, Tegoshi was already curled up on one of the beds, fast asleep. Shige took a quick shower and climbed under the covers, reading while Koyama showered and trying to relax. If all went well, tomorrow he’d be tackling black ice - just like its real-life counterpart, it could kill a man. He had no idea how Tegoshi was sleeping so calmly right now. His own heart was racing. Frustrated, he closed his document and put the reader on the nightstand. He spent a couple minutes blanking out - he didn’t even notice Koyama until the man was climbing into bed next to him.
“Hey,” he said quietly as Koyama brought a hand up to run fingers through Shige’s still-wet hair.
“Hey.” They looked at each other for a few moments and then Koyama leaned in to kiss him.
Shige wrapped a hand around Koyama’s neck, letting his thumb rest along Koyama’s pulse point, just under his jaw, felt it beating strongly. Koyama deepened the kiss and Shige let him but Koyama soon pulled away.
“Are you ok?” Koyama asked.
Shige nodded, perhaps a bit too quickly and Koyama searched his face. “I’m just too worked up to sleep.” A beat. “Are you?”
“No,” Koyama replied and he cupped Shige’s face in both hands, running his thumbs along Shige’s lower lip before kissing him again.
Shige leaned back against the headrest and Koyama lowered his face to nuzzle against Shige’s neck. “I have to,” he whispered in a choked voice. “Kei. You know I have to.” He could feel a wetness on his neck. And then Koyama was kissing him again, salty and sweet, and straddling his legs.
They broke apart, breathing heavily, and Koyama put a finger to his lips before slipping down between Shige’s legs and tugging him down until he was lying on his back. Shige blinked at him hazily, but when Koyama put a hand to Shige’s waistband, Shige struggled to sit up, glancing over at Tegoshi whose back was to them. Koyama got to his knees and leaned up and over Shige, pushing him down and kissing him.
“He’s a heavy sleeper and you can’t sleep,” he whispered, and proceeded to push Shige’s shirt up and kiss his way down Shige’s chest, trailing his fingers far enough to push the waistband of his pants down. Shige tangled his hands in Koyama’s hair and let go.
~~~
Yamashita leaned back against the headboard, hands behind his head, and watched Masuda neatly arrange his things.
“Are you sure it’s all right if you do this for us? Maybe you should get back before they can suspect anything.”
“It’s all right. It’s for Tegoshi, right? You love Tegoshi. So I love him too.”
Masuda turned to look at him fondly.
“Besides, I think the two of you have me pretty well covered. And my aunt knows what to say.”
Masuda nodded and turned back to his bag.
They were silent until Yamashita asked, “You’re going to let him do it?”
“I have to. Tegoshi is serious when he says he’d die for it. Even if I could stop him, I wouldn’t.”
When Masuda passed close to him, placing a glass of water on the nightstand, Yamashita put a hand out and gripped his arm. “Taka.”
Masuda’s shoulders slumped and he looked so young. Yamashita moved his hand down to grasp Masuda’s and stood, pulling the younger man close, wrapping his arms around his shoulders. He felt Masuda’s arms slip around his waist and his cheek come to rest against his shoulder.
“It’s all right to be afraid.”
“I am,” he said, voice muffled. He turned his face into Yamashita’s neck. “But I’m not sorry.”
“For not fighting it?”
“Yeah.”
“My strong Taka,” he said with a smile, and he felt Masuda smile against his neck.
“I’ve missed you.”
“Too much.”
Masuda leaned his upper half back and looked up at him. “Never.” He turned his face up expectantly and closed his eyes.
Yamashita never did like to keep him waiting when he could help it.
They slept curled tightly together, Yamashita couldn’t keep his hands from trailing across the hard planes of Masuda’s body all through the night, re-familiarizing himself with every dip and curve, placing pleased, sleepy kisses against his hair and shoulder whenever he woke to the find the man in his arms. Sometimes Masuda would wake too, return his kisses and snuggle up against his chest, drowsy ‘I love you’s crossing his lips before he dropped off again.
Chapter 7
Group/Pairings: NewS. Pairings: Koyama/Shige, Massu/Yamapi
Rating: R
Warnings: Violence, cursing, sexual implications.
Words: 2,510
Summary: First try: "The fate of the world as they know it rests in the hands of one Kato Shigeaki. Oh shit." Possibly more coherent try (though it sounds like a lame old-school sci fi jacket blurb): The A.I. guarding cyberspace is forced to choose between eternal imprisonment and self-destruction. With the fate of the world resting in their hands, they must race against time to give her a third option before it's too late.
Prologue - Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 4 | Chapter 5 | Chapter 6 | Chapter 7 | Chapter 8 | Chapter 9 | Chapter 10 | Chapter 11 | Chapter 12 | Chapter 13 | Epilogue
---
Chapter 6 - 110
He must have fallen asleep sometime during the night, he realized, because now he was peeling himself off his keyboard because Masuda was prodding him.
“Time to go,” the man said, a grim look on his face.
“What?” he asked thickly, and reached up to try to rub the bleariness out of his eyes.
“They already know you’re in New York City. It’s time to go.”
“Fucking Jansen,” Shige muttered thickly. “What time is it?” he asked as he clumsily packed.
“Five in the morning.”
Shige grumbled under his breath about how damn perky Masuda was for only having had two hours of sleep. Koyama and Tegoshi had already left for the train station and Masuda and Shige hailed the next cab. Masuda sprawled across his seat, passively watching the buildings flash by while Shige sat, muscles tense as he drummed nervous fingers against his thigh. He knew better than to ask where they were going.
When they got to the station, Koyama and Tegoshi were already seated facing each other, Koyama’s eyes lost behind his visor again and he was probably watching something if the way his fingers were moving against his leg were any indication, and Tegoshi had his laptop open, typing away furiously. Shige slid into the seat next to him and opened his own, goggling in so he could hide what he was working on.
His mind was feeling hazy and his head bobbed a couple times until Tegoshi prodded him and he pushed his goggles up to look questioningly at him.
“Let’s see,” he said, and waited for Shige to hand over the goggles. They conversed in overly hushed tones, Tegoshi’s lips grazing his ear a few times and making him shiver. He was so tired he was getting hot and cold flashes and nausea was cramping his stomach, and then he looked up to see Koyama looking in his direction, hands still against his thighs.
“Tegoshi,” Koyama said flatly.
Tegoshi looked silently back at him before closing his own laptop and handing it across to Masuda before taking Shige’s. “Get up, Takayama. Jun is sleepy.”
Shige shot him a confused look but then Koyama was standing over him looking expectant, and he stood and moved to sit across from Masuda. Masuda tugged surreptitiously on Shige’s arm until his head was pillowed on Masuda’s shoulder and Shige felt barely a moment of awkwardness before he slipped out of consciousness.
He woke some time later, embarrassed to find himself slumped nearly into Masuda’s lap and he sat bolt upright, blinking slowly. Masuda offered him a bottled water and a sandwich with a smile, and Shige couldn’t help smiling shyly back as his stomach gurgled in anticipation. Koyama’s fingers were tapping again, but he felt a rush of affection. He ate quickly and took his seat next to Tegoshi back, letting his fingers brush Koyama’s as they switched places, and poked Tegoshi.
“Hand it over,” he said jovially.
Tegoshi took the goggles off after a moment and passed them over. “Have a nice nap?” he asked sweetly.
Shige raised an eyebrow at him.
About six hours after leaving New York City, the train pulled into their destination: Rochester, New York.
“Will he be here?” Tegoshi asked Masuda cryptically.
“He said so,” he replied with a shrug. “He’ll meet us there at midnight.”
Shige tugged his jacket tighter around him and looked about. Glum. That’s about all he could say about it. “What’s in Rochester?” he asked skeptically as they waved over one of the waiting cabs.
A bright grin spread across Masuda’s face. “You’d never guess.”
~~~
Masuda was right. He never would have guessed.
At ten p.m., they followed Masuda through a complicated set of alleys, under the half opened garage door of an old fire station, down a long, grime-encrusted flight of stairs into a garish mix of fluorescent lighting and a strange abandoned subway marketplace. There was the hint of music in the raucous noise, a sustained note here, an identifiable riff there, but mostly clashing bass beats vibrating through the soles of his feet up his vertebrae to jangle against the base of his skull. The crowd was mainly African-American from what he could tell, but he could see plenty of other ethnicities represented, not a small few Asian.
Tegoshi was filming, Shige checking the datapad every now and then, and Tegoshi stopped often, fingering filmy material in one stall, a row of glass beads in another, the techno-purpose of which Shige couldn’t fathom but he spent a few moments admiring the intricate circuitry embedded in each fingernail-sized bead before Tegoshi tugged him away by his sleeve.
“What is this place?” he shouted in Tegoshi’s ear.
Tegoshi just shrugged and pointed to Masuda.
They finally ended up in the back booth of a crowded bar drinking things Shige hoped he wouldn’t regret later because he certainly couldn’t identify them now.
“What is this place?” he repeated his question loudly, his mouth as close to Masuda’s ear as possible.
“Best kept secret on the northeastern U.S. coast,” Masuda yelled back happily. Which told him nothing.
Tegoshi was off chatting and dancing with people in the bar and Shige watched, bored, as the datapad recorded it all. Then Masuda was nudging him and he and Koyama stood to follow Masuda as he plucked Tegoshi from the crowd and made his way to a dark hallway at the back of the bar. Shige watched a shadowed man slip into a door on the right and Masuda followed after, waiting until everyone was in to shut the door and flip a switch that did nothing Shige could tell. Probably scrambling any audio scanners.
The man half-sat against the sturdy table in the middle of the room, arms crossed over his somewhat broad chest, a worn baseball cap pulled a little low, and he looked completely at ease. There was nothing special about any of his features taken separately (except maybe those lips, Shige thought fleetingly) but all together they were something quite breathtaking. His skin was completely clear and when he pulled off his hat, he was bald, not a modification in sight. Shige gasped.
“A non-mod?” he asked.
Masuda nodded then spoke to the man. “Pi,” he said with a grin, “long time no see.”
Pi smiled lazily back. There were quick introductions, then Pi, whose name was actually Yamashita, moved away from the table, smoothly sliding into one of the seats, and the four of them followed his lead.
“What’s a non-mod doing in a place like this?” Shige asked.
The man’s face took on a sage look before he answered airily, “We go where we are needed.” And then he and Masuda started cracking up. Yamashita’s laugh was higher pitched and more giggly than Shige ever would have anticipated.
“Pi is not actually a non-mod,” Masuda explained. “Well,” and his gaze moved over the man’s body, “he is unmodified, but he doesn’t hold their religious beliefs.” Non-mods were originally derived from the Mormon religion. In fact, they still had their base in Utah. There were no Mormons who were not non-mods and few non-mods who were not Mormon. “He joined them a few years ago in order to work through their ranks and gather intelligence.”
“He’s a spy,” Tegoshi supplied helpfully.
“Y-ees. He’s a coder. And he’s here because I asked him to be.”
“So what’s going on?” Yamashita asked Masuda.
“We have… a problem. Kato-san, here, is carrying a pretty serious virus. It can melt down cyberspace in a matter of minutes. We’re fairly certain the non-mods have set it up, but Kato’s not the only courier. We need to know if it is the non-mods backing and if it is, we need to know how to get Kato in to the systems core to put his anti-virus in if we can’t find the other courier in time. Obviously we’d prefer getting to the courier first, but...”
Shige held up his hands and hurried to remind Masuda, “But I’m not done with the anti-virus yet.”
“You will be,” Tegoshi said serenely. “I have faith in you.”
Yamashita’s face had gotten more and more serious as Masuda had spoken and now he was outright frowning. “I don’t have access to that kind of information, Taka. That’s hardcore.”
Tegoshi leaned forward eagerly. “But do you know enough to help me hack into the system and find out? That’s the question.”
Yamashita looked uncomfortable. “They’ve got crazy ice, Tegoshi. Black. And if you’re looking for information like that, if it’s there, that’s what you’d have to hack.”
Shige looked over to Koyama who’d been quietly listening to the conversation. But he’d gone completely still when Pi had said the magic phrase, “black ice.” Shige never messed with the stuff. Koyama wouldn’t let him and, honestly, Shige had no uncontrollable need for the high hacking it afforded. He wasn’t one to live for thrills. But…
“If we don’t, cyberspace goes down and I might as well be dead anyway,” Tegoshi said emphatically and Shige felt an echo in himself.
Shige noticed the flat look in Tegoshi’s eyes and shuddered. But it was true for most cowboys - they lived in cyberspace. When they had to, they walked among the meat, but for the most part, they stayed in cyberspace. Tegoshi was not as far gone as most cowboys, but Shige knew he was dependent on it; regardless of how much time he spent outside it for his “other” career - Tegoshi’s real job was hacking. Shige couldn’t lie to himself, though, Tegoshi had it bad, but Shige wasn’t far off - Koyama might not be enough for even him if the ‘net died.
Chewing nervously on his nails, Pi finally looked into Tegoshi’s eyes. “Well, it’s your life. I’ll do what I can.”
Shige thought that if Tegoshi didn’t die from the ice, he might die from all this excitement.
They decided to hold off on working the anti-virus that night in favor of getting some sleep for a change, that way they’d be ready in the morning for meeting with Yamashita and preparing for the hack. All five returned to the hotel, but when Shige went toward his and Massu’s room, Tegoshi tugged on his sleeve.
“Get your bag and bring it over.”
Shige blinked at him. “I’m sorry?”
Tegoshi gave him the dirtiest grin he’d ever seen and then winked and a girl that happened to be passing them in the hallway tripped over her own feet.
Shige retrieved his bag with a frown on his face, but when Koyama let him in, Tegoshi was already curled up on one of the beds, fast asleep. Shige took a quick shower and climbed under the covers, reading while Koyama showered and trying to relax. If all went well, tomorrow he’d be tackling black ice - just like its real-life counterpart, it could kill a man. He had no idea how Tegoshi was sleeping so calmly right now. His own heart was racing. Frustrated, he closed his document and put the reader on the nightstand. He spent a couple minutes blanking out - he didn’t even notice Koyama until the man was climbing into bed next to him.
“Hey,” he said quietly as Koyama brought a hand up to run fingers through Shige’s still-wet hair.
“Hey.” They looked at each other for a few moments and then Koyama leaned in to kiss him.
Shige wrapped a hand around Koyama’s neck, letting his thumb rest along Koyama’s pulse point, just under his jaw, felt it beating strongly. Koyama deepened the kiss and Shige let him but Koyama soon pulled away.
“Are you ok?” Koyama asked.
Shige nodded, perhaps a bit too quickly and Koyama searched his face. “I’m just too worked up to sleep.” A beat. “Are you?”
“No,” Koyama replied and he cupped Shige’s face in both hands, running his thumbs along Shige’s lower lip before kissing him again.
Shige leaned back against the headrest and Koyama lowered his face to nuzzle against Shige’s neck. “I have to,” he whispered in a choked voice. “Kei. You know I have to.” He could feel a wetness on his neck. And then Koyama was kissing him again, salty and sweet, and straddling his legs.
They broke apart, breathing heavily, and Koyama put a finger to his lips before slipping down between Shige’s legs and tugging him down until he was lying on his back. Shige blinked at him hazily, but when Koyama put a hand to Shige’s waistband, Shige struggled to sit up, glancing over at Tegoshi whose back was to them. Koyama got to his knees and leaned up and over Shige, pushing him down and kissing him.
“He’s a heavy sleeper and you can’t sleep,” he whispered, and proceeded to push Shige’s shirt up and kiss his way down Shige’s chest, trailing his fingers far enough to push the waistband of his pants down. Shige tangled his hands in Koyama’s hair and let go.
~~~
Yamashita leaned back against the headboard, hands behind his head, and watched Masuda neatly arrange his things.
“Are you sure it’s all right if you do this for us? Maybe you should get back before they can suspect anything.”
“It’s all right. It’s for Tegoshi, right? You love Tegoshi. So I love him too.”
Masuda turned to look at him fondly.
“Besides, I think the two of you have me pretty well covered. And my aunt knows what to say.”
Masuda nodded and turned back to his bag.
They were silent until Yamashita asked, “You’re going to let him do it?”
“I have to. Tegoshi is serious when he says he’d die for it. Even if I could stop him, I wouldn’t.”
When Masuda passed close to him, placing a glass of water on the nightstand, Yamashita put a hand out and gripped his arm. “Taka.”
Masuda’s shoulders slumped and he looked so young. Yamashita moved his hand down to grasp Masuda’s and stood, pulling the younger man close, wrapping his arms around his shoulders. He felt Masuda’s arms slip around his waist and his cheek come to rest against his shoulder.
“It’s all right to be afraid.”
“I am,” he said, voice muffled. He turned his face into Yamashita’s neck. “But I’m not sorry.”
“For not fighting it?”
“Yeah.”
“My strong Taka,” he said with a smile, and he felt Masuda smile against his neck.
“I’ve missed you.”
“Too much.”
Masuda leaned his upper half back and looked up at him. “Never.” He turned his face up expectantly and closed his eyes.
Yamashita never did like to keep him waiting when he could help it.
They slept curled tightly together, Yamashita couldn’t keep his hands from trailing across the hard planes of Masuda’s body all through the night, re-familiarizing himself with every dip and curve, placing pleased, sleepy kisses against his hair and shoulder whenever he woke to the find the man in his arms. Sometimes Masuda would wake too, return his kisses and snuggle up against his chest, drowsy ‘I love you’s crossing his lips before he dropped off again.
Chapter 7