Chase the Morning - Inception 2/4

[snoozing_kitten]

Koyama had changed since he’d left, wearing a pair of sinfully tight black slacks and a soft looking charcoal sweater over a pale pink button down and the neon yellow knot of his tie poking out at the base of his long neck. The outfit was planned to show off the narrow lines of his waist and the faint hint of strength in his narrow shoulders. It was working; Massu couldn’t help the way his eyes traced the figure he cut. He felt a little out of place; his slacks were beige and a little more than worn because they were the most comfy, with a paisley print v-cut shirt hidden under his sport coat.

“They have really really yummy fresh pasta here.”

Koyama was as usual completely and flawlessly charming during dinner. He knew a little about everything, and had a soft spot for literature, and spoke like he was in love with every direction their conversation took. It was a little disconcerting and did a lot to high-light the fact that Massu hadn’t really spent a lot of personal time with Koyama. Theirs wasn’t really a job that did karaoke parties and dinner dates. Unless they were trailing a mark or working out the finer points of a detail with a client.

Koyama also didn’t seem to mind that Massu kept returning to work related topics when he ran out of anything else interesting to say. In short he was perfect and, as silly as it was, it was driving Massu mad. Part of him wanted to call Koyama on it, figure out what angle he was working and tell him to just stop it already. Massu didn’t have anything Koyama wanted so there was no reason to treat him like the last in a long line of marks.

He was going to say something as they worked on their desserts (Koyama a zucotto and Massu a bianco mangiare) when Koyama beat him to it.

“Want to come back to my hotel?” He said it with that faint curl of his lips, the end of his tiny spoon resting against his lip with just the right hint of suggestiveness to hit him low and hard.

“Koyama.” Massu wasn’t really sure what the end of his objection was going to be, something along the lines of how Massu was flattered really but Koyama wasn’t his type. Before anything could be decided on, Koyama was leaning across the space between them, completely disregarding any and all notions of personal space. Or propriety.

“I can be exactly what you want me to.” Koyama’s voice wasn’t loud enough to carry, but faintly breathy. He tipped his head to the side a little, letting his mouth go a little slack, making his lips pout a bit. Massu wanted to do something desperate just to get him to stop making that expression. Koyama grinned at him. “I knew it.”

“What?” Massu was trying really hard not to show that he was being knocked off kilter, that his pulse was picking up, and the subtle scent of Koyama’s hair was mixing with the espresso on the table and Massu wanted to lick it. It was disconcerting. It was impossible to be slow and still come out on top when you’re doing things on the wrong side of the law. He could see Koyama’s game, watch each movement of his lips and the way his eyes crinkled when he smiled. Yet he still couldn’t stop the faint pulse of blood low in his dick like all it would take to get hard was another one more push.

Koyama hummed, pressing his mouth into a small line. “You’d want to fuck me.” The words were a bit crass and yet thrilling. Yes. Yes he would. “I bet you’d like to pin me there, make me do whatever.” Koyama’s voice dropped into a filthy purr. “You’d like it if I was a filthy slut for you. And you’d make me desperate for it.” Massu swallowed hard. “Would you like to make me beg?.”

There really was only one thing he could say to that. ‘Shut up Koyama.’ “Oh hell yes.” Massu couldn’t help the low pulse of desperate heat. He wanted that, he wanted more than that. He wanted, he wanted that like he’d never wanted anything before. Shut up Koyama’s stupid mouth with whatever was on hand, bend him over something and make him just take it. “Koyama.” It was supposed to be a warning, supposed to mean ‘don’t fuck with me’ but he wanted so badly.

“My treat okay?” Koyama flagged the waiter, putting his spoon oddly delicately on the end of his half finished dessert. Massu’s mind was still trying to catch up, failing and trying again.

Koyama’s hotel room was surprisingly neat and tidy, all clean lines and white linens with dark wood trim. It was stately and not at all what Massu had expected, somehow he had expected something more cuddly, softer, less straight-laced. Or maybe even something with a mirror on the ceiling. The hotel was classy but understated, well-cared for but off the beaten path and clearly struggling. Koyama hadn’t said anything on the way up in the elevator, leaning against the wall and watching the numbers flicker upward while Massu watched his profile trying to work up the will power to leave. Alone in the dimly lit room Massu’s heart was hammering at the base of his throat and it was pulsing just behind his ears, roaring with nervousness he hadn’t felt in forever.

It was exhilarating. “Massu.” Koyama’s voice was gentle and it shattered something sharp in his chest. “Come here.” Koyama was standing near the bed, the soft lighting making the lines of his face seem less defined and Massu couldn’t think of a reason not to, so he went to him.

Koyama melted against him, all pliant and sweet, his lips finding Massu’s cheek even as his lengthy body folded in on itself, arms coming up and cradling Massu’s shoulders. He twined around Massu like he could try and climb him. It was sudden and Massu couldn’t do much but put his hands on Koyama’s narrow hips and just hold on, letting his hands rest there. The heat of Koyama’s skin soaked through his shirt and made his palms itch where they were touching.

“What do you want?” Koyama whispered against his skin. Massu couldn’t say anything; there weren’t words for all the things in his head. His voice stuck in his throat and Koyama nuzzled against him, sliding slowly like an affectionate cat against his chest. “I told you, anything you want.”

“What do you want?” Koyama seemed a little taken aback by the question, stilling completely for a drawn out moment.

“I just want to be yours tonight?” Koyama all but purred the words, rolling each one off his tongue. It should have been gaudy and not hot, but Massu couldn’t help himself.

“And tomorrow?”

“Tomorrow’s not tonight. You don’t want tomorrow.”

“Everything goes back to normal tomorrow.” Massu said firmly, and that couldn’t be his hand in Koyama’s hair, making him arch off his chest to avoid the pain.

“Of course.” Koyama stilled, staring at him, steady and with a tiny little smile on the corner of his lips that drove Massu to desperate measures.

The first kiss was a surprise, Koyama pulling against the hold he had in his hair and surging forward to catch his lips in a quick kiss. Massu chased it, and Koyama swiped his tongue over his bottom lip, just the quickest flick of his tongue like a tease. When he finally released Koyama’s lips, his breath fanning against the heat if his mouth and making his lips tingle Massu found that he was strangely okay with this.

“Then I want you to get undressed.” Koyama broke the kiss to look at him for a moment, then he
untangled himself as smoothly as he’d wrapped around him to peel the tight sweater over his head. The button-down underneath was creased, and pale forgettable colour, remarkable only for the way it was stretching across his shoulders. The tie was bright, and came off at the slightest tug of his long graceful fingers.

“What age did you learn to pickpocket?” Massu asked, because so as long as he had Koyama pretending to be his dirty little sex fantasy he might as well fill in some gaps. He did love information so.

“I’d have thought you’d want to keep this impersonal.” Koyama didn’t look disturbed, a little surprised maybe, but not disturbed. “I could lift wallets by the time I was nine. My sister was doing it at seven- she had a cute face.” That’s an interesting little tidbit that Massu mentally filed away, it wasn’t something he couldn’t have guessed for himself anyways.

With the tie on the floor he started with the buttons at the base of his long throat. Everything about Koyama was stretched out a little, like his body had been put together and stretched like taffy. Long slim legs, a long slim torso with long arms, even his fingers were slender and nimble. The first three buttons were undone quickly, trailing his fingertips over his throat like he knew Massu wanted to bite right there. Koyama was spooky about reading people, who knew maybe he did in fact know every dirty little thing that Massu wanted to do to him.

All the different ways he wanted to make Koyama dance and twist because know it or not Massu was never in it to just get off, he could do that on his own, he’s got two hands and the internet. He was all about making someone else find their limits and push them past them-- he wondered if Koyama really understood what he’d agreed too. Didn’t really matter now did it? Impersonal? Perhaps he’d been overestimating Koyama’s ability. He didn’t want impersonal, he wanted everything if only for right now.

“I thought you said I could have anything?” Massu watched where the last button was being slipped through its neatly sewn hole, leaving a stripe of tan skin from his neck down to the low rise of his slacks. Information was what Koyama played close, having Massu pry would knock him off balance a little.

“Well yes.” Koyama shrugged, and used the motion to rid himself of his shirt. His shoulders were broader then they looked in his clothes, leading in smooth lines down his tight waist. His tan was nice and even, and there was enough definition in his abdominals to speak of a strict exercise regimen.

“Then just give me what I want.” Massu smiled at him, just for that one moment where Koyama looked a bit startled. It was lovely.

“Why do you even hire YamaPi?” Koyama undid the slim leather belt and pulled it from the loops with a soft hiss of moving fabric and he held it out for a moment. “You want to use this?”

“No.” It took a lot of effort to keep his face even, and Koyama was such a stupidly cheeky little thing. “Could you go any slower?” He complained keeping his voice steady through force of will alone.

Koyama laughed, and undid the button zip to his tight slacks and pushed them down with his boxers in one go. Long naked legs, and pale grey socks. Koyama bent neatly to slip off one, then the other. The entire time so completely shameless in his nudity.

“Hold still.” Massu murmured; he didn’t need to speak loudly because he was pushing into Koyama’s personal space, stepping over the clothing he’d dropped onto the floor, and making a quick circuit around him. Koyama had control of his breathing, but he couldn’t stop the pulse of blood in his cock, half-hard and they’d not even gotten started yet really.

When he stopped in front of Koyama for another kiss he could feel the heat of his skin against his clothes and nothing but smooth under his palms as he ran his hands up from the small of his back up to the ridges of his shoulder blades. Koyama made a soft sound, rubbing against the cloth with soft rolls of his hips. He was rubbing up against him like a cat in heat, kissing against the curve of his jaw in these small kittenish flicks of his tongue mixed with the barest scrape of his teeth. Koyama was just so completely naked, all soft and sleek, and Massu sort of wanted to touch everywhere at once.

“Bed.” Massu pushed his shoulder a bit and Koyama gave him a slow coy look.

“What’s the hurry? We’ve got all night.”

Massu didn’t bother with answering him-- Koyama was going to do as he was told one way or another even if he was going to be mouthy about it. Oh.

“What no blow jobs?” Was cut off by him pressing the material of his tie against his lips. Massu couldn’t help but smile at the sweet almost petulant look on Koyama’s face. He let his fingers drag over the contours of Koyama’s lips and Koyama licked at the tips of his fingers for a moment, ignoring the fact that he was ruining his own tie to do so.

“You’re just desperate for it aren’t you?” It was a bit easier to talk now that Koyama couldn’t talk back, couldn’t put words into his mouth with that lilting smooth voice. Koyama hummed and just stared at him, bright yellow tie cutting across his face and forcing his lips open around it. Massu made a quick knot of it in the back leaving enough to form a lead if he so chose it so.

He couldn’t help the way his fingers kept stealing across the line of his tie and his skin, pressing slightly into his cheeks and the slack of his lips. It wasn’t a full gag, Koyama could still make an inquiring sound in the back of his throat and that was just perfect. Reaching behind his head he tugged on the other end of the tie, “Now are you going to get on the bed?”

Koyama nodded and he could feel the jerk and tug of the lead in his hand and Massu swallowed hard, struggling not to give away the burn of heat in his stomach. The fact that he was already hard without having to touch himself, he could feel the slight sticky feel of the head of his cock leaking against the cotton of his boxers, straining. Games like these are played like poker, holding your hand until the right moment.

Koyama moved awkwardly, Massu was purposely pulling down, making Koyama stoop to keep it slack, but it was only a few paces to the bed and Massu let him fall onto it as he would. Koyama spread across the bed, wiggling up onto the edge, skinny but managing to take up twice as much room with his reach.

“Look at you.” Massu hissed, and he pressed down on Koyama’s hips, pinning him so that his knees were over the edge of the bed, but his arms and chest spread open wide like a buffet. Massu was starving for the feel of silky skin under his own. He started with Koyama’s hands, perched on top of his hips, still fully dressed, but it was impossible to hide how turned on he was now, the rise of his dick pressing obscene against the front of his slacks and into Koyama’s stomach.

Koyama could only make a strangled hungry sound, staring at him, and he went to move one of his hands just like Massu figured he would and he took great pleasure in catching his wrist and pinning it to the bed by his head. He out enough of his weight on the trapped joint until he could feel the movement of his bones against his palm and Koyama’s eyes were going all wide and dark. Perched on top of him Massu stared at Koyama’s face, the way his hair was all dishevelled and tangled against his forehead. He bent low enough he could place a kiss to Koyama’s lips, but the gag was making him drool, and being unable to close his mouth was beginning to get sort of messy, so Massu just hovered there, letting Koyama taste the heat of his breath. Koyama whined, but didn’t strain up to kiss him.

His own voice was low and rough, surprised him a little with the heat it carried. “I’m going to make such a mess of you.” Koyama nodded, and Massu could feel his whole body tense and relax through every place he was pushing him into the bed.

Koyama had broad palms; Massu trailed his hands over the meat of one, the tip of his longest finger, and down to the surprising narrowness of his wrist. He was beautifully pliant, tipping his head to watch Massu explore his hand with a hazy sort of expression. He drew the line at dragging his tongue across the delicate bones in his wrist and the hidden strength of his forearms; maybe if Koyama was fresh from the shower, all wet and warm he’d lick him all over, but Massu didn’t know where he had been before.

The muscles of his biceps bulged a little and Massu couldn’t help but press his lips there for a moment, mapping the tightness with his lips and Koyama made a happy little sound in his throat. He could feel the race of Koyama’s pulse just under his kiss when he worked his way closer to his shoulder, the thrum of his subclavian artery jumping when Koyama tensed.

“I never realized how pretty you were.” Massu breathed against the sharpness of his collar bone. He wasn’t overly skinny, there was muscle definition there and he’d be willing to bet that in a fight Koyama would be scrappy as hell. Koyama made a soft annoyed sort of sound and Massu hid his smile against the curve of his neck.

“Such soft skin.” Massu hummed, and Koyama made a series of strangled noises, obviously talking through the gag uncaring that it was impossible to understand him. Probably about whatever skin care regimen he was on, but he wasn’t lying-- Koyama’s skin was so smooth, warm and soft, it slid along his cheek with the faint slip and drag of friction.

He followed the smooth, tan skin from the line of his neck down to the slim muscles of his chest. Little nipples, Koyama arched his back, not really subtle in an attempt to get him where he wanted it. So Massu slipped past the tight little nipple, and traced the bottom curve of his pectoral with the edge of his thumbnail and watched Koyama’s limbs tense and shiver. So he did it again. That was something else, Koyama shivered again; he was so responsive, arching up into Massu’s hands like he couldn’t get enough of the feeling. The subtle play of his ribs under his skin shifted distractingly with each breath. When he put his palms over it he could feel each breath moving through his chest. The rise and fall of his chest and the slip of his ribs under his fingers, he pressed down a little so he could lean over him, touching his lips to the soft edges around his nipple.

Koyama moaned and pushed into the contact, sucking in a shuddering breath through the gag and shaking under the pressure on his chest. He scraped only the edges of his teeth across the already peaked nipple. Koyama jerked, twitching helplessly under his hands. The next time he did it a little harder, and Koyama squeaked. It was a cute little sound.

He couldn’t help himself any more; he licked delicately at the edges of Koyama’s nipple, and it didn’t taste like anything, the faintly chemical taste of his detergent and soap mixed together. Smooth texture, one little point of roughness. He tongued it, letting it roll across the flat of his tongue to drag across the tip. Koyama twisted a little, so Massu pressed down just a little harder, keeping him in place. Koyama stilled under him, like he’d been testing how far Massu would let him move, the edges of what exactly he was offering here.

“Legs.” He muttered, tapping Koyama’s side as he sat back, they shifted around carefully so that Massu was kneeling between the enticing spread of Koyama’s thighs. The skin on the inside of his legs was soft, and the hair here was softer, less coarse and Massu hummed, petting his legs in broad sweeps that made the muscles twitch and tense.

It was possible he looked even better like this, completely spread for him, like a blank canvas, the half-hard rise of his dick looking helpless there against his thigh.

Massu hummed, following the smooth curve of his legs up to the sharp little hills of his hips, the slight hollow of his waist, flat tummy with a downy line of hair leading to the darker curl of his pubic hair. It was wiry between his fingers, petting it, and rubbing his fingers down to the sensitive base of his cock. Koyama sort of jumped towards the touch, clearly trying to stay as still as he could, shoulders pressed back against the bedding, but his hips jerked and Massu could only grin at it, watching his tummy tighten with the effort of rubbing himself up against Massu’s fingers.

He could feel the low pulse of blood, pressing the tips of his fingers to the thick vein on the bottom, watching as Koyama moved helplessly, wriggling, under just the ends of his fingers and his stare. He was making some sort of muffled sound through the gag, not words or whimpers, just aborted hisses of air dragging over soaked polyester. The fabric was a little darker where it was wet, and Koyama’s lips were gleaming red with saliva.

“So nice.” Massu said, probably not even loud enough for Koyama to hear. He dreamed of cathedrals, he dreamed of great pagodas with all the delicate grace and strength like the ones in wall scrolls. He could imagine the greatest beauty in the world, and see it echoed in the abandoned splay of Koyama’s arms, the way pushing his hands like that had the affect of leaving his chest open. It’s still about architecture, phi, universal constants and the angles between things, bending it to your will.

Massu slid down the bed shuffling on the sheets and trying not to get his toes tangled in the blanket that hadn’t been pushed all the way to the floor yet. Koyama watched him, neck visibly straining before he gave up and flopped against the bed again.

His stomach tightened and his thighs twitched helplessly when Massu scraped his teeth over that fine trail of hair. Koyama’s dick twitched against his chin, and Massu pet his slim, bony knees, fingered the sharpness of his knees. He licked delicately at Koyama’s cock because it wanted his affection and Koyama made this little helpless sound, but Massu could tell he was trying not to move. As a reward he tongued the soft underside, curling his hands over his hips and pushing his legs out of the way. Koyama surprised him a bit by just bending, pushing his legs to the almost impossible angles that Massu pushed him to. He could hold his hands together, curled a little under Koyama’s hips to push his hips up and open as the rest of him. He could also pull the head of his cock into his mouth. Koyama was getting harder, dick filling against his lips, and like this he couldn’t move, there wasn’t anywhere he could dig his feet in to push against Massu. He could only take it. Koyama must have figured out this at the same time because he made this desperate little helpless sound against his gag.

“You were right, I do want to make you beg for it.” He said, voice thick, breathing hot over the gentle curve of his tummy.

Oh, Koyama would beg. He’d look so perfect all desperate and needy. He had to push Koyama a little further, and he grunted softly, so he could uncurl himself far enough to reach the single-use little foil of lube that Koyama hadn’t been really subtle about leaving there.

“Now you can move your hands, but no touching me, or the gag, got it?” Massu ripped the foil open with his teeth and stared at Koyama through his bangs. He was looking frayed, while before he’d worn the gag as if it was a fashion accessory of some kind, he was beginning to look all properly ruined now. Koyama’s eyes were locked on his fingers; he let some of it pool all slick and warm on his palm and rubbed his fingers in it.

They gleamed in the low lighting when he wiggled them, lube slipping down the meat of his palm to curl around the delicate bones of his own wrist.

“Got it?”

Koyama nodded, looking a little dazed, but he didn’t move his hands at first. Massu was rather inordinately pleased with that.

He licked at the little dip of his navel, letting his slick fingers play over the soft, tissue-papery skin on his balls. He slipped his fingers behind them, cupping their warm weight, and pressing up and behind with just the ends of his fingers and Koyama moaned, stomach tightening under his lips. Let his fingers trail lower until they caught on the ridges and Koyama jerked, letting out a muffled squeak. He didn’t press inside right away, that would be giving too much too fast, or taking too much as it was. Koyama shifted a bit, legs tightening and trying to press back against the soft pressure.

He licked out, pressing a smacking kiss to the tight head of Koyama’s cock and he stilled, whining softly. He took the head in his mouth and pressed inside at the same time and that pulled a loud groan from Koyama’s chest, his legs tight around Massu’s chest. The head fit perfectly in the cradle of his tongue, keeping his lip over his teeth as he licked at the slit and followed the shape to the ridges of the underside and all the sensitive little places there. Koyama took his finger easily, all soft and silky inside and so hot-- his dick jerked a little, tightening in his lower belly as he imagined sinking in there and pounding him into the bed. Koyama would take it too, looking all fucked out mouth all red from the gag.

Probably a little too fast and a little too rough, pushing two fingers into him while he let the head of Koyama’s cock slide against the silken lining of the inside of his cheek, before sucking on it as deep as he could comfortably take it at this angle. Koyama made these soft whining sounds, feet kicking, but completely helpless to do anything but tug on the sheets and stare. Deeper and relentless, feeling Koyama tight around his fingers, muscles all tight and resisting the movement. Pressing deeper and harder, Koyama making these little groaning sounds.

He got it right when Koyama squeaked, going all tight for a moment before trying to rock back on his fingers, all twitchy and loud. Massu smiled as much as he could, Koyama’s dick pressing against the roof of his mouth and causing saliva to well and escape the corners of his mouth.

His pace was hard and fast, rubbing tight little circles over his prostate while sucking hard on the head, bobbing clumsily. It worked, too-- before long Koyama was crying out with each rough tug on his dick, hands knotted in his own hair as his back arched and flexed. He was close, body tight and hot under and around Massu.

“Come on, come for me.” He said, voice gone all gravel-rough and abused and Koyama actually wailed, legs trembling and obviously riding that edge. Using his left hand to jerk him off was awkward, but it worked, a few rough strokes through the not quite slick enough tunnel of his fist and Koyama was keening, going even tighter, skin burning hot to the touch. He made the most beautiful sounds as he flew apart on his fingers, coming in thick stripes across his own clenched, tanned stomach.

Massu didn’t stop pushing him higher, pressing in tight little circles until Koyama was making these pleading little pained sounds.

“Too much?” Koyama nodded hard, eyes wide above his gag, face gone all red. When he finally let go Koyama went completely limp, chest heaving as he struggled to catch his breath again.

He stared in fascination as his own hand swiped through some of the mess, leaving the tips of his fingers slimy and wet. “Look at you. You’re a mess.” Massu smiled, he couldn’t help it, the flush spreading all the way down Koyama’s chest was just so lovely, the skin around his mouth was all irritated and pink, wet from his own saliva and his bottom lip looked obscene all puffy and stretched around the gag. He traced it with his wet hands and Koyama couldn’t lick it off without some serious effort, wearing his own come like gloss.

“Can you come again?” He licked the delicate curve of Koyama’s jaw, tracing the edges of his tie with his nails.

In response Koyama whined and shook his head slowly, staring at Massu like he knew what was coming.

“But you will.” Massu said softly and Koyama’s eyes fluttered closed, pushing his face away from Massu’s hands. “It’s probably going to hurt a bit, but that’s what I want.” Koyama whined, shaking his head. He hooked his fingers under the tie and pulled it out of his mouth, it was soaked and Koyama’s mouth moved for a few seconds, looking lost without it between his lips. “What was that?”

“M-Massu.” His voice skipped and cracked over his name when he pinched a nipple, letting his nail just dig into the delicate little piece of flesh, enough edge to thrill.

Koyama’s eyes were hazy, and he was caught somewhere painful between too tight and too loose and Massu was only going to bring him higher, and it took everything in him not to rub off on the back of Koyama’s slim thigh because this was real. He was going to ruin Koyama past the point of all his useless pretty words and too many fake masks. The feeling was like flying, like dreaming.

Koyama was still all slick inside when he pushed in with three fingers and Koyama’s back twisted and arched up away from the thickness of his fingers. So Massu used his other hand to force him back down and onto it and Koyama moaned, tossing his head.

“Get yourself hard.” Massu kissed the bend of his knee, and Koyama pressed his eyes shut, but one of his hands uncurled from the sheets to rub absently at the wet head, chewing on his bottom lip. Between them they managed to get Koyama hard again, but he kept making these delicious little sounds, hips jerking, completely caught between the two sensations. It was beautiful to watch.

By the time Massu deemed him ready, his ass was a mess of lube and Massu’s fingers, spreading him wide just to watch the way it made his eyes flutter and his breath stutter in his chest. Koyama had started babbling, mostly incoherent sounds, constantans without vowels and disjointed syllables spilling from between bitten lips. When the sounds began to turn desperate and his wrist ached from the angle, Massu finally pulled out and Koyama sagged, staring at him with a blank expression, mouth hanging loose all soft and fucked out.

He got undressed as fast as he could, swiping the condom foil from his pocket. His skin felt too tight and too hot, more than ready to go. He rolled the condom down and Koyama made unhelpful little abortive movements, spreading his legs again, and moving his feet restlessly across the bed. Massu caught one of ankles in his hand and held it out, letting Koyama’s other leg curl around him, heel digging into the small of his back and trying to pull him closer.

“Yes.” Koyama groaned like Massu was pressing all the air out of him, his face just crumpling when he rubbed his cock against the loose stretch of muscle teasingly. “Oh, god. Please.”

Massu had to grit his teeth, sinking slowly inside of Koyama deeper than his fingers could reach and spreading him so open.

“Ah fuck.” He cursed under his breath; it was all heat and the sweet slick friction of lube.

He slid his other hand up from his thigh so it rest on Koyama’s chest, thumb and fingers bracketing the base of his long neck just under the loose hang of his tie, and leaving him partially bent over him, staring at his face. The way his lips shifted and moved like he was trying to say something, the corners of his mouth were still all irritated.

“You’re going to come again.” He watched the way Koyama’s eyes fluttered, trying to focus on his face.

“I can’t.” He arched, and Massu let go of his leg so he could wrap his fingers around Koyama’s on his dick and he squeezed, breaking off another little piece of Koyama which shattered with a sharp gasp.

“You will, just relax into it.”

Massu shifted a little so that his knees were a little more stable under him, setting up a slow pace, drawing it up and pushing in hard, forcing Koyama to fuck the tunnel of their fists. It wasn’t long at all before he was shaking his head and almost sobbing, face gone all blotchy again; he was shaking apart under Massu’s hands, pulled so tight he looked like he was going go snap something.

“ No, I c-can’t.” He hiccupped, and the head of his cock was flushed almost purple, painfully hard. Massu could feel the tightening in his own stomach, more than enough to get off on, but he wanted it all.

“Yes you can.”

Massu let go, letting his fingers play over the tightness of Koyama’s balls, and god he had to be so sensitive by now that it was equal parts pain and pleasure, keeping him all tight and perfect. He pressed his thumb against the tight stretch of his ass, feeling the latex of the condom sliding against the edge of his thumb and that was all Koyama needed.

He almost screamed as he came, like it was being torn from him, his cock jerking with a few drops smearing across his belly. He jerked like he’d touched a live wire, going so tight and Massu groaned low in his throat, slamming up and into him hard digging his fingers into his hip and pulling him back on it.

It seemed to go on forever, Koyama choking on his own sobs, breath coming out in a stuttered mess, and he was just so wrecked. Massu leaned back, holding Koyama’s hips up a little with his arms so he could slam up into him. Tight and hot, tighthottighthottight.

“Oh fuck fuck.” Massu snarled, pressing at deep as he could go and trying to push deeper in quick little jerks as it crashed through him. After holding on for so long it was like being hit by a train. It pulled from somewhere deep inside and fizzled like fireworks. It seemed like it was pulling down from his spine and oh god, he couldn’t remember the last time he came this hard.

He felt pleasantly drained, like the ends of his fingers and his head were not connected at all. He pulled out, tying off the condom on autopilot.

Koyama made a sort of groaning sound, and remained limp where Massu left him long enough to toss the rubber and find a damp cloth to get any traces of lube off his hands and thighs.

Koyama had managed to flop one of his arms across his chest and he was giving Massu a lazy and completely sated look when he came out of the bathroom. “You look a mess.” Massu wrinkled his nose and Koyama laughed, sitting up on his elbows. Eyes bright and obviously smug. Massu possibly liked him better gagged and too turned on to give him that stupid look. “Please don’t get it on my sheets.”

“You ruined my tie.”

“You asked for it.” Massu shrugged, and Koyama grinned at that. Couldn’t argue with the truth. “Now shower and leave, I’m tired.”

If he hadn’t known that Koyama was a sociopathic compulsive liar he’d say that expression was hurt.

He rolled off the bed in a show of loose-limbed grace, as if making up for being held still for so long. His stomach was a mess of dried and drying semen and the edges of his mouth were all raw looking. His clothes were in a nice little pile where he had dropped them, and he picked them up easily, leaving the ruined tie on top. If he was sore, and he must be, he didn’t show it at all. Massu couldn’t help but be impressed.

The shower turned on, ran for a bit, and by the time Koyama came out again Massu had cleaned off the bed and refitted the blankets, lying in his briefs on top and dozing. It was getting late.

“Will you be around tomorrow?”

“No.” Koyama shrugged, he was all dressed, soft sweater hiding the bruises, and only the still-used look of his mouth and the dampness of hair gave him away. “Need to do fieldwork.”

“Right.” Massu barely even twisted his head to watch him leave.

Massu could hear him pause at the door. “I can be everything you want.” Massu had to admit, that Koyama had been fantastic, it had been just about everything he loved about sex. “That’s easy. But I just can’t be him, now can I?”

Massu tensed all over. But before he could find a gun and shoot the annoying son of a bitch, or demand him to explain himself Koyama was slipping through the door, the end of his tie trailing out of his pocket like a little flag.

~~

The world they built together was like the very edge of a knife, all shined and gleaming metal sharp enough to rip to the bone. It was like glittering mirror windows on Tokyo-sky-scraper sky-lines, reflecting the rays of the sun like reflected through a spy-glass.

It was as beautiful as it was dangerous.

YamaPi hated it as much as he loved it. But it was his, half of him and half of Jin all tangled together and built up to the sky like Babylon. They’d gone deep, so deep together in the name of pushing the limits, finding the next big hit. The next highest cliff to jump off, to pull the ‘chute at the last minute. They had been going deeper and deeper in controlled experiments-- Jin wondered what the most subconscious parts of his mind looked like and YamaPi, well it wasn’t boring and so he’d followed.

It was pure creation, there were very few projections here, which YamaPi figured had something to do with how well his mind knew Jin’s; in this world, there was no one but them. No one else was needed really. Jin had asked, staring at a sky that was sparking like water dropped on a live-wire, ‘do we really need to wake up again?’

But this wasn’t their world, this was just his creation of what it had looked like. Somehow he couldn’t get the way the geometry worked there quite right. All the corners were off by just a little bit, it wasn’t something obvious, niggling, out of the corner of your eye, a feeling in your gut that it wasn’t quite right, but he could never quite out his finger on it.

He lit up a cigarette and inhaled; it burned all the way down to the bottoms of his lungs. He’d quit when Jin was-- ...when Jin went to sleep. Kind of like he was living for two now.

He was sitting on top of one of his buildings; it was harder to capture Jin’s style with enough detail that it was believable. So he sat here and looked at them in the distance as the northern lights tore open the sky in a riot of psychedelic colours. This was the only way he could dream now, the only time when the world didn’t look so dull, like he was looking at it through a slightly fogged window. Everything was brighter here, and the air whispered that it wasn’t his fault.

“Are we going to talk about this?” Ryo sat down on the edge of the building, kicking his feet over the edge and gripping the ledge with fingers a little too white, the sky sparked purple. He was looking away from YamaPi and he had to wonder just how much it had cost Ryo to follow him down into his dream to have a little heart to heart, or tete-a-tete as it was rather literally. Ryo was one of the most emotionally stunted men he had ever met, no matter who he fucked, you couldn’t get empathy from osmosis. Well actually it appeared he had.

“About what?” YamaPi took another long drag, watching the cherry glow briefly at the end before returning to a dull smoulder. “The fact that you’re following me into my dreams now?”

“No, the fact that all you dream about is this.”

If he dropped a penny from this height it would probably make a dent in the concrete. “This?”

“You know what I mean.” Ryo looked at him, and in the odd half-light his face was all shadows and darkness, only light along the sharp edges of his cheekbones. “I worry.”

“Worry that I’m not going to wake up?” Jin did that. It was the only time YamaPi didn’t follow him.

“Something like that.” Ryo’s feet were kicking over the edge, flip-flops dangling from his toes precariously and the slight breeze was ruffling the hair on his forehead. None of their buildings had guard rails. “It wasn’t your fault.”

“No? Doesn’t matter.” It sure as hell felt like his fault.

The dream had been collapsing, someone bursting through the walls and forcefully pulling them back to reality and Jin’s fingers had been tight around his, dangling over the edge, and none of their buildings had railings. Then Jin was falling, and YamaPi was waking up with a gasp that hurt his throat as it ripped his way out. Someone was hammering on the door-- it was the neighbours, the chemist they were working with and the point man, both wide-eyed and shouting.

“The police are here.”

They all left and Jin was put into custody, without a mind; without being there he couldn’t stand trial, but they put him in a hospital under lock and key.

“He’s gone. I’ve moved on.” YamaPi left out the ‘so you can stop being such a cunt’, kindly.

“Doesn’t look like it from where I’m standing.”

“Then you really shouldn’t stand so close to the edge.” YamaPi smiled, and flicked his butt over the edge, watched the faint glow until the street swallowed it up completely.

“Whatever.” Ryo looked up at him, and his eyes looked huge and liquid in the light. “As long as you’re not going to wig out on me or something.”

“Or something.” YamaPi tried to smile reassuringly, and whatever it looked like it must have looked right because Ryo nodded curtly.

“Yeah. Right. I was just a bit concerned. You’ve been using this thing a lot on your own lately. In my experience that never ends well. People, they start to lose touch.” Ryo trailed off, looking really uncomfortable. “There is so much more to life than this.”

YamaPi laughed. Ryo had no fucking clue. But he was sweet in his own way. “I just missed dreaming that’s all.”

“Not me. I used to have this reoccurring dream about a clown, a dog, and a train when I was kid. Creepy as fuck man.”

“You’re psycho.”

“Whatever. I’m going to head back to the hotel unless you wanna grab some beers?” Ryo cocked his head invitingly. YamaPi hadn’t noticed how tired Ryo looked until right then, or maybe it was the light. Probably.

“I’ll see you tomorrow.” YamaPi watched him push off the edge with his hands, falling into the darkness like his cigarette butt. The fastest way to wake up from one layer of the dream to the next was to just die. The jolt wakes you, just like falling in a dream, the bottom of your stomach dropping you out of one state of consciousness into another.

YamaPi was alone again, and the sky sparked all sorts of colours in pattern that wasn’t quite perfect, the space between the beats was a little off. It wasn’t so bad.

~~

Yoko stared at the lights. Morning was coming, grey across the horizon fading to the most delicate of blues at the edges. He usually didn’t have the time to look at the sunrise. Something had woken him, and he couldn’t be arsed to figure out what it was. At the same time he couldn’t seem to get back to sleep.

Yoko wondered if today would be the day his father finally died. He wondered what kind of face he should make. Could he look sad enough? How long would be polite before he chained himself to his father’s old desk and built himself a house around it?

It was like looking into a crystal ball-- he could see the future in the wrinkles in his father’s face and the weak valve in his heart from years of high-stress work. Rome wasn’t built in a day, and this empire was built on bones of relationships past and the ashes of burned bridges. Would he have a son he hated too? Fuck, would he even be good enough to be as miserable of an old man as his father was?

Daddy didn’t seem to think so.

He was dying, everyone knew it, he knew it, and he still couldn’t find a place in that hole in his chest to say something nice to his son. No he was still yelling at Subaru over business, ignoring everything else. No wonder Yoko’s brothers had vanished, they both just packed up and left, traitors. It wasn’t like he was banging models and buying coke in bulk, but he still wasn’t good enough, wasn’t vicious enough.

Well, as long as he was up. Might as well start working. Maybe today would be the day when he figured out what kind of face he was supposed to make.

~~

Shige was bopping to some mindless pop on the radio, it was in French, but he didn’t seem to care. Shige’s hips jerked slightly off-beat but that was probably more to do with whatever he was stirring on the hot-plate. Massu watched him and he watched it.

Then to his surprise it suddenly went from clear to cloudy and Shige grabbed it off with one gloved hand.

“Day-dreaming?”

He managed not to jump out of his skin, but only just. Tegoshi leaned over his desk to look at Massu’s short-hand notes. They twisted across the page, refusing to follow the lines properly.

“Funny.” Massu pulled a face at him. Up close Tegoshi had a smooth complexion, plastic surgery maybe? He ticked his head a bit to the side, and Tegoshi matched his movement. “Why are you here?”

“Just keeping tabs on my investment, like any good investor should.” Tegoshi’s smile was hard. His eyes clear and severe. Like he didn’t have the edge of softness that his image belied-- he looked all soft and helpless but that was obviously a ploy. Tegoshi would rip you to shreds given half a chance, and he’d do it with a smile. “Care to update me on the plan so far?”

“So far?” Massed tapped the end of his pen on the note book with a fast percussion beat. “Ryo’s built the mazes for the first two levels so far. He’s built a city and a hotel.”

“What is the third level?”

“Not sure yet, Koyama’s amassing real-time data on Yokoyama. That deep down it is going to be highly unstable, but if we can convince him there that his father wants him to split up his company, then I’m sure it will stick. Go in deep and hit him hard.”

“How sure.”

“It’s never been done before.” Massu shrugged. “Inception has never actually worked before. It’s like... an urban legend or something.”

“Then this will be the first.”

Part 3