Arashi AU oneshot ---- starring Jun & Sho
Title: Two wrongs and one right
Pairing: Matsurai aka Sho/Jun
Genre: AU. Mostly humor and smut.
Rating: NC-17 for cursing and sex
Disclaimer: I own nothing, but I wish I did.
Summary: There's a killer, a mob boss and a gay son.
Word count: 4792
Notes: Unbetad, kind of. And it's been a while since I've written an Arashi (only) oneshot.
Two wrongs and one right
Typical, he quietly murmurs between puffs of his cigarette.
Yesterday was his last day on the job; finally he could retire from all the bullshit and guilt and everything else in between. So-called friends who were in the business warned him about certain marks and his last big job. They would go on about how assassins are only human and could feel attraction to their victims if they weren't careful. He would just flick his cigarette and waste them then and there, to prove how he was different. He was convinced his heart had frozen over years ago.
Who would have thought those vigilante scumbags could be right?
-------------------------
He tucks his hair behind his ear, taking his sniper rifle and laying down on his stomach with it in his grasp. He figures killing a corrupt man on the top of a church isn't half bad, it might even bless his bullet to hit the target without fail. (No one would expect Quasimodo to end a high powered businessman from behind a bell.)
His boss' instructions are: shoot to kill. The mark this time is a Japanese man with brown hair-a bit on the long side-he’s not very tall, but he’s wealthier than God. (Not really, but he’s close.) He's exceptionally young for the amount of power he has, and he's not sure what exactly this man has done to deserve being shot in the head, but he trusts his boss. (And really needs the money from this last hit to facilitate his move to some private island.)
But of course something has to go wrong.
He can see him clearly through the small lens of his sniper. He wants to squeeze the trigger, but he's biting his lip and he doesn't realize it until the taste of metal hits his tongue. That guy, he's lying there, unaware, smiling and he's gorgeous.
It's not like he hasn't seen, touched, fucked gorgeous jewels before, but this one takes the cake. Or maybe it's the way he's oblivious and basking in the sun by his backyard pool. It's like he's asking to be seduced and toyed with. Not that he plans to do that.
Or maybe it’s just his mind playing tricks on him because he's sick of killing in the name of justice. He's not Sailor Moon for Christ's sake, and even she feels bad at times.
He just needs a break, that’s all, just a break.. He chants it like a mantra, as though taking someone's life was a holy activity necessary for a good life. Clearly, his vacation couldn't come soon enough, because he's seeing stars when he should be seeing spilt blood.
The client is paying 200k for this one head, and he still can't get his digits to wrap around the trigger and pull. It's just one bullet, he tells himself, but then the man gets up and sits at the edge of his pool. Drool wasn't a good look on anyone, even less on cold blooded killers. Was he losing his edge?
He drops his gun and picks up the picture of his mark. There’s an old man with his arm wrapped around a younger one. The old one has a potbelly and a cigar hanging from his lips, while the younger one is beaming with a glass of wine in his hand. He slaps his forehead; the whole time he thought the old guy was going to be his target.
No wonder it’s making things more difficult on him. Most of his marks were old pedophiles or drug dealers that deserved to die. They were never that young, nor that good looking. And this one doesn’t seem to fall into the same category, for some reason.
He sighs; a mark was a mark, and the money was definitely worth killing Mr. Right. Jun nods, picking up his gun, only to realize the man is back inside his house. He grumbles, rushing to pack up his stuff in a duffel bag. There’s a time limit for this peculiar case, so now he has to do it the dirty way. (Which meant he would have to go knock on the man’s door and either snap his neck or hit him in lethal areas.)
He curses when the mid-day bell starts ringing in his ear literally; nothing should be that loud. His cellphone is vibrating; he struggles to get his silver phone out of his tight jean pocket and blocks one ear-it’s his boss.
“Hello?” He doesn’t mean to sound apprehensive.
“I suspect things are running smoothly.” His boss is smirking against the receiver, well aware of the situation.
“Well,” He inhales a bit. “I know you have your sources. I haven’t killed him yet, but I’m about to.”
The man is still smirking for some reason. “I had a feeling, Jun. You always had a thing for the strong, silent type.” It almost feels like he’s setting him up to fail. “And you realize, if you can’t finish this, we’ll keep you on for another year.” Maybe it was all part of his plan.
“Wait-“ But the line goes dead before Jun can ask.
If this is his boss’ idea of a joke, it isn’t funny. Being tricked into working for another year is cruel and unusual punishment. But since it’s Nino, it would make perfect sense; he doesn’t like letting go of his best employees.
Jun runs down the rest of the stairs and finally makes his way outside. He knew there was a reason he usually avoided front doors. The blushing bride quirks an eye when he brushes past her, but he smiles politely and she lets him pass, assuming he’s just some staff member. The groom, on the other hand, seems to be irritated.
Jun pulls on his hoodie, sliding on oversized sunglasses and scrambling to cross the street before he forgets where his mark lives. The light turns red while he’s in the middle of the street. A car starts honking and Jun doesn’t flinch, throwing his middle finger up in response. Class was not something he valued anymore. Even the richest, most posh men begged for their lives in the end.
No more than five minutes later, Jun is in front of his victim’s door. The easy way to get in, he realized after years of practice, is to just ask. Breaking down doors and sneaking in through windows only brought on unwanted attention and broken nails. Jun wasn’t a fan of either.
He knocks a few times, hard enough for a man who lives in a three-story home to hear.
The door creaks open and of course they can’t make his job easy, life wasn’t nice to murderers. The doorman-because Jun doesn’t know what else to call him-is standing there with wide eyes, blinking slower than sloths move.
“Who are you?” Even though he looks harmless, the tone in his voice is defensive, despite him resembling a furry animal.
“I just need to use the phone, it’s an emergency. May I? Or can I ask the owner of the house?” Jun smiles brightly; charm was something he picked up back when his marks were politicians and lawyers. A smile always made things easier.
“I-I don’t think-“ The small man is pushed aside as the mark appears.
“Don’t mind Ohno, he’s protective of me.” The mark is so much more alluring up close, especially when he smiles. His face lights up, Jun thinks, but quickly ignores himself when his stomach turns. “A phone call you say? Sure, you seem okay.”
So do you, is what Jun wants to say, but holds his tongue. It’s not about who’s nice and who’s guilty, it’s about his ticket out of the hellhole he calls his life as an assassin. He had his dad to thank for bringing him into this mess in the first place.
“Thank you,” Jun bows, utilizing the only Japanese tradition he does know. He was born in North America and his parents never bothered to even teach him Japanese, nevermind the culture.
The mark laughs, loud and sincere, “No need for that. We’re in the US, last time I checked.”
Jun nods. Thank the heavens, even though they don’t want to hear about him. But now that he’s in, he needs to figure out how to quickly rid himself of the doubt swimming around, as well as the troublemaker causing it. Ohno isn’t someone to worry about, Jun thinks.
The mark points to a cordless phone on a red wood desk. “Use it as much as you need to.” He turns to leave, but remembers something he wanted to say. “My name is Sho, please don’t call me Sir or Sakurai.”
And Jun is frozen-with his mouth open he realizes, when Sho tells him to close it-because he’s almost scared to kill this man now.
The thing about his boss, Nino, is that he never said their name, nor why they needed to be eliminated. He would just send a picture and the amount the client was offering, which Jun has been fine with until now. Any other information Jun learned was from paying close attention to detail. But this, this was too huge of a detail to be in the dark about.
“I’ll leave you to your call,” Sho smiles and disappears into a room nearby.
And Jun suddenly realizes why he’s so carefree and unafraid of, well, anything. Who the fuck would want to kill the head of Yakuza’s son? Only a masochist bastard would fathom trying, because the amount of pain and torture that would rain on him afterward would haunt him long after his death.
Jun’s hands are shaking, he sees, when he picks up the receiver. If he was going down, Nino would be dragged along. Jun dials his boss’ number. “Nino.”
“What the fuck Jun!” And his anger isn’t genuine; Jun knows his boss better than he should.
“Cut the shit,” and he knows his ass is on the line for the rude tone, but this is a serious matter. “Nino, how could you put me up to kill the Sakurai family’s son?”
Nino grins, clearing his throat when he adds. “Can’t do it, can you?”
The punk planned this bullshit, Jun growls, pulling the receiver away. “What if I do? Then aren’t you one foot in the grave with me?” He’s not sure if he’s bluffing himself.
“If I gave you him, it’s ‘cause I know you’re capable.” Nino knows it’s not entirely true, but he has a safe house for himself if his plan fails. “Anyways, waste him or welcome back for another year.” Nino hangs up, holding onto his stomach as he laughs.
Jun grabs the hair at the top of his head and pulls, frustration filling him up faster than he can control it. And his eyes snap open when there’s a chuckle coming from behind him. He’s holding his breath at this point, praying that it’s that paranoid man who goes by Ohno. But God, as he knows, doesn’t like Jun’s line of work.
“So, you were sent here to kill me?” And Sho is so calm when he says it that it seems like Jun should expect a bullet to go through his skull any time now.
“What if I said no?” Jun is grasping at straws, trying to get out of this with his life.
“I would say you’re lying,” Sho snorts, walking toward Jun. “But then again, what would a killer have to gain from lying?”
Jun swallows the ball of tension in his throat, his tongue drier than sand paper. “Exactly.” Even though he knows that saying that in itself is a lie, considering he lied to get into the house to begin with.
Sho puts a hand on Jun’s shoulder, his grip progressively tightening on the slender frame. “You can try to kill me, but I’m not afraid of dying.” Sho’s smile is still as bright as the sun, although his hold is like a vice grip.
“I don’t want to kill you.” The lies have to stop if he wants to survive the day. How else could he make it to his island in the sun? “I just wanted to retire after this.” And Jun can’t keep the truth in any longer. “Plus, I don’t know what you’ve done wrong.”
Sho lets go of Jun’s shoulder, his gaze softening at the same time as his smile fades. “My lifestyle,” His voice cracks, but it’s like he turns into someone else when he continues. “Kill me or get the fuck out.”
Jun is startled by how blunt Sho is, not that he should be-he was the son of the most powerful man in Japan. And he can’t think what to say next, so he asks whatever comes to mind. “Where’s your father?”
Sho rolls his eyes and pushes Jun against the wall. “Who cares?! You have a gun; shoot or leave and I’ll pretend this never happened.”
The offer sounds sweeter than life itself, but for reasons unknown to Jun, he wants to stay and talk to this guy. Sho is looking down at the ground, his arm’s still encasing Jun against the wall. He’s hiding something, Jun decides.
“Why would you cover for me?” Jun asks, his voice so quiet he’s not sure if he’s said it aloud.
“I’m not,” Sho sighs, grabbing Jun’s wrist. “Listen, do I have to drag you out? Because I don’t think you’re going to shoot me. And I don’t need you here when my dad gets back. Then we’re both in deep shit.”
Both? Now Jun is insanely curious as to what this angry beauty is hiding. “I don’t want to leave yet.” Jun pulls his wrist away, crossing his arms.
Sho’s eyes widen, his brow furrowing when Jun’s lips curl upward. “What the fuck is wrong with you?”
“Right now,” Jun wonders how he should phrase it. “I just want to know what I’m up against.”
Sho curses under his breath, grabbing Jun’s wrist again, but pulling him in the opposite direction of the front door. “We’re going to my room then.”
Jun tries not to gape at the collection of Japanese murals and antiquities they pass by on the way to the third floor. Sho pushes Jun in roughly and locks the door behind them. “Name first. And don’t give me some messed up nickname that has to do with how you kill your victims. I hate that shit.”
Jun almost laughs; it’s true that most of his colleagues did that. “My name is Jun, and it’s not a nickname.” He sits on a chair that Sho pulls out from under a desk for him.
“Good,” He sits across from Jun, leaning in. “Now, the only reason you’re here is because I’m desperate, I guess.” They both knew that much, but it was worth repeating. “It’s not like it’s everyday I can speak to someone close to my level.”
Jun almost feels flattered. Though, most of the friends he had went to work for the Yakuza after quitting his company. Maybe this was how it happened. “I understand.” Jun isn’t here to kill, so he lets Sho talk.
“Okay, well,” Sho lowers his voice. “I have a feeling I know who put a hit out on me.”
Jun raises a brow; wasn’t it Nino who planned this whole mess just to keep Jun from quitting? If there was an actual client behind it all, they were insane to think it would cost only 200k. He nods and gestures for Sho to continue.
“I can’t tell you though, until I’m absolutely sure.” Sho leans back, crossing his legs, waiting for Jun to say something.
“So,” Jun raises a brow. “You think you know, but until you know 100% you won’t tell me?” He scoffs, crossing his legs also. “Is it everyday you have a trained killer in your house?”
Sho chuckles, rubbing his neck. “Kind of. But I doubt they’re as hot as you.” Which, Sho knows is completely irrelevant, but he’s been thinking it ever since Jun came to the door.
Jun snorts and looks at his nails. “Does it matter? As long as I’m good, right?” And somehow this is going in a completely inappropriate direction.
“Good? I wonder,” Sho rubs his chin as though he’s actually imagining it. And Jun can’t help but laugh. “Since I let you live, and you let me live-“
And Jun knows where this is going, wishes he didn’t want to bang his brains out just from how easy he sounds. Their whole relationship, if it can be called that, is far past skewed and he doesn’t care. He’s just waiting for his cue.
“What are you trying to say?” Jun knows, plays it cool instead.
“Let’s fuck.” Sho answers, the tone of his voice dropping drastically, like he’s horny already. “And don’t pretend you didn’t think of this.”
Jun smiles; the son of the Yakuza is propositioning him, and it was almost cute how honest he is. “Should I think about it?” If he pushes Sho a bit more, maybe the sex will be better.
“Fuckin’ tease,” Sho grumbles, fisting his hand in Jun’s hair, dragging him in for a kiss. “You want to be punished for your sins? Or your dirty mouth?”
Jun thinks it’s terrible how hot (and aroused) Sho sounds, considering he should have an image to preserve. “You think you can?” Jun isn’t about to lose, though.
Sho is up and pushing Jun against the wall seconds later. Hands sneak under his shirt and scrape down his chest, lips crashing together like a pileup of cars. Jun can’t breathe, but Sho’s mouth is so warm and delicious, he can’t get himself to pull away. Sho is just as stubborn, if not more, already undoing his belt and opening his zipper.
“Jun,” Sho finally caves, pulling away for air. “I’m hard.”
And Jun would have told anyone else that they were shit out of luck. But Sho is powerful, and greedy for everything he’s willing to give, and best of all he won’t judge his world because he’s in it too.
So, before Sho can ask properly, Jun is on his knees, bobbing like he’s looking for apples. Sho moans loudly, his fingers tangling in Jun’s long, dark locks, pulling him in gently. Jun relaxes his jaw, prepared for rougher treatment; this is the Yakuza we’re talking about.
When he can still breathe around the hard cock, can still control the rhythm of his sucking, he wonders why the hell this man is so caring for someone he doesn’t know. (And probably doesn’t want to know.)
Sho pets Jun’s hair, his hips thrusting into Jun’s mouth slowly, carefully even. “Feels so good,” And he strips off his shirt, his palms pressed against the wall behind Jun.
Jun wants him to slide his cock in further, because he’s so hot he wants to see how climax looks displayed across his face. Sho pulls back, and Jun is a bit disappointed, but then he’s being dragged up for a punishing kiss and all is well again.
It’s rougher than the first, like he was trying to fuck Jun with his tongue, teeth and lips. And Jun can’t deny that he’s getting harder with every roll of that skilled tongue because, well, he is. Sho moans and pops open Jun’s button, dropping the jeans to the ground. The air is cool against his skin, but not for long.
Sho presses his hips snugly into Jun’s, grinding so infectiously that Jun doesn’t know how long he can last. All the emotions and knowledge behind this is what makes it that much more sensual. Jun is a fucking killer, being grinded into by a seductive Yakuza child with a taste for cock. Nothing makes sense, but it feels like heaven.
Sho’s lips attach to Jun’s neck, and Jun lifts a leg so Sho can finally fuck him because he knows neither of them are going to last much longer. Sho sinks his teeth into Jun’s neck, his fingers snaking over the pale skin of Jun’s chest to fill his lips. “Suck.”
And Jun feels like a slut, but Sho is acting like one too, so he doesn’t feel half as bad. His tongue swirls and sucks on two of Sho’s digits, imagining it’s that cock he lusts for with every inch of his skin. He spreads because he knows what’s coming next, even before Sho knows what he’s doing.
Fingers push against the tight entrance, his lips never leaving Jun’s collarbone; he needs it as a distraction, Sho thinks. Jun’s been around though, and he’s done it without prepping before. Shit, he’s even been fucked when he was asleep, but he was good with pain. Good with giving pain to others too.
“Just fuck me,” Jun hisses, Sho’s fingers scissoring inside him so deliciously his cock is throbbing with every movement.
And he nods silently, pulling his fingers out. “But, here,” And Jun is being carried across the room like a child, with his legs wrapped around Sho’s waist securely. Sho puts Jun’s back on the bed, pulling his hips to the edge slowly. “Ready?” And he knows it isn’t necessary, but he’s not used to being with someone as experienced as himself.
“Just,” And Jun spreads his legs as wide as he can. “Now!”
Sho all but whimpers, wondering if he needs lube and a condom before he starts. “Do you want-“
“Did you not hear me? Fuck. Me. Now.” Jun is closing his eyes, leaning back against the bed with his legs in the air.
He pulls Jun’s legs closer, pushing his cock in. Slowly, he murmurs. Jun can hear and doesn’t want this romantic scenario Sho is creating so he pushes Sho’s hips in closer himself, crying out when the tip brushes against his prostate. “Move, fuck.”
Sho nods, which is pointless since their eyes are closed, and his hips start thrusting in at a maddening pace. Jun doesn’t expect it to be so fast from the start, but can’t complain due to how much noise is coming from his mouth. He grabs his cock and jerks the tip quickly, his thumb rubbing over the slit to use the precum as lubricant. Sho finally forces his eyes open and the way Jun is thrashing side to side only gives him more fuel. He grabs the smooth thighs and drives himself in deeper with each following thrust.
Jun babbles incoherently, spilling himself when Sho leans in to suck on his lip. The moan Jun lets out resounds in Sho’s ears, repeating like a broken tape player, until he’s climaxing into the thinner man.
His arms are shaking, trying to keep himself from falling atop Jun (and the white mess on that sexy abdomen). Jun hums, sliding out from under Sho’s body. “Can I shower first?”
Sho’s body is still heaving when he nods and sits on the edge of his bed.
Jun is smiling when the water hits his skin. And though being clean always makes him happy, that’s not why he’s smiling like an elementary school student. Sho, he whispers below the warmth. That man is a handful of problems, but a myriad of amazing surprises. The good outweighed the bad so many times over; Jun couldn’t believe he was thinking it himself.
He’s still smiling when he comes out of the shower. Sho is sleeping, still a mess and sweaty (and probably sticky), but just as gorgeous. Jun hates the way he’s thinking, frowning and dabbing the water out of his hair. Who was he to fall for the son of the Yakuza? Wait, he stops drying his hair while he ponders. Did he actually like Sho that much? It was just sex. Great sex, but it was sex nonetheless.
He nods, continuing to dab his wet strands of hair. Sex could make anyone think they were in love when it was just lust. Jun snorts, wrapping a towel around his waist. He’s about to wake up Sho when he hears footsteps coming toward the door. Jun hides behind the bathroom door, just in case the person is there to kill him. Or worse, if could be Nino coming to get him.
The man walks into the room like he owns it, his shoes making the floor creak with every step. Sho is still sound asleep by the time an old man is hovering over him. The man pets Sho’s cheek gently as he starts to whisper to himself. “Sho, you know I love you. But I’m the leader of the Yakuza. How can I scare people when my son is a queer?”
Jun gasps. The man turns to look for the source of the sound. When he sees nothing, he goes back to whispering. “So I hired someone to kill you, but they’re too afraid of me. Guess I have to do it myself.” The old man pulls out a gun from his pocket, pointing it to Sho’s head.
Jun bends down, sneaking out of the bathroom on all fours. His silencer is only a few feet away, but does he have time? Sho’s father’s hand is shaking and his eyes are filling with tears, but his finger is wrapping around the trigger slowly. Jun rolls across the floor noisily to distract the crying man and shoots him between the eyes when he looks in Jun’s direction.
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Typical, he quietly murmurs between puffs of his cigarette.
He’s still wrapped in his towel while he leans against the wall, watching over Sho who sleeps like a dead man. (Which his father had arranged to make permanent, but failed.) His father, surprisingly, fell further back on the bed when he died. Jun thinks it’s funny how things turned out.
Sho is still alive, he is still alive, but the client is dead. He knows he’s going to be massacred by Nino when he gets word of this, but it doesn’t matter. What he did have to worry about, on the other hand, was how many angry, revengeful Yakuza members were willing to try and kill him. Though, having the boss’ son on your side kind of made things seem less bad.
Jun sits on the bed next to Sho, shaking him lightly. The drowsy man stretches, smiling up at Jun when he realizes who it is. “Hey beautiful.”
“No time,” Jun points to Sho’s father on the higher part of the bed.
“Holy shit!” Sho jumps off the bed, pointing at the dead man incredulously.
“Yeah,” Jun stands up, rubbing Sho’s shoulder. “He’s the one who wanted you dead.” Sho sighs, letting his arm drop, depressed. “What now?”
“Now, we run.” Sho walks into the bathroom, starting the water in the shower. He needs to clean off first.
Jun doesn’t need to wait for the explanation. Apparently being friends with a Yakuza son isn’t helpful at all, and now they were both going to be pursued by a bloodthirsty gang of Japanese men. And as silly as it sounds when he thinks about it, he doesn’t regret a thing. His story is meant to continue this way. Jun smiles, knocking on the bathroom door. “Do you want seconds?”
And though their lives may end soon, it’ll be fun while it lasts. Maybe he doesn’t need a deserted island to be happy-just some gay gangster boss’ son who fucks like his life depends on it. Jun knows that’s what people, like him and Sho, consider romantic. He grins when he climbs in the shower and lips devour his own without hesitation.
The end.
Comments are ♥
Pairing: Matsurai aka Sho/Jun
Genre: AU. Mostly humor and smut.
Rating: NC-17 for cursing and sex
Disclaimer: I own nothing, but I wish I did.
Summary: There's a killer, a mob boss and a gay son.
Word count: 4792
Notes: Unbetad, kind of. And it's been a while since I've written an Arashi (only) oneshot.
Two wrongs and one right
Typical, he quietly murmurs between puffs of his cigarette.
Yesterday was his last day on the job; finally he could retire from all the bullshit and guilt and everything else in between. So-called friends who were in the business warned him about certain marks and his last big job. They would go on about how assassins are only human and could feel attraction to their victims if they weren't careful. He would just flick his cigarette and waste them then and there, to prove how he was different. He was convinced his heart had frozen over years ago.
Who would have thought those vigilante scumbags could be right?
-------------------------
He tucks his hair behind his ear, taking his sniper rifle and laying down on his stomach with it in his grasp. He figures killing a corrupt man on the top of a church isn't half bad, it might even bless his bullet to hit the target without fail. (No one would expect Quasimodo to end a high powered businessman from behind a bell.)
His boss' instructions are: shoot to kill. The mark this time is a Japanese man with brown hair-a bit on the long side-he’s not very tall, but he’s wealthier than God. (Not really, but he’s close.) He's exceptionally young for the amount of power he has, and he's not sure what exactly this man has done to deserve being shot in the head, but he trusts his boss. (And really needs the money from this last hit to facilitate his move to some private island.)
But of course something has to go wrong.
He can see him clearly through the small lens of his sniper. He wants to squeeze the trigger, but he's biting his lip and he doesn't realize it until the taste of metal hits his tongue. That guy, he's lying there, unaware, smiling and he's gorgeous.
It's not like he hasn't seen, touched, fucked gorgeous jewels before, but this one takes the cake. Or maybe it's the way he's oblivious and basking in the sun by his backyard pool. It's like he's asking to be seduced and toyed with. Not that he plans to do that.
Or maybe it’s just his mind playing tricks on him because he's sick of killing in the name of justice. He's not Sailor Moon for Christ's sake, and even she feels bad at times.
He just needs a break, that’s all, just a break.. He chants it like a mantra, as though taking someone's life was a holy activity necessary for a good life. Clearly, his vacation couldn't come soon enough, because he's seeing stars when he should be seeing spilt blood.
The client is paying 200k for this one head, and he still can't get his digits to wrap around the trigger and pull. It's just one bullet, he tells himself, but then the man gets up and sits at the edge of his pool. Drool wasn't a good look on anyone, even less on cold blooded killers. Was he losing his edge?
He drops his gun and picks up the picture of his mark. There’s an old man with his arm wrapped around a younger one. The old one has a potbelly and a cigar hanging from his lips, while the younger one is beaming with a glass of wine in his hand. He slaps his forehead; the whole time he thought the old guy was going to be his target.
No wonder it’s making things more difficult on him. Most of his marks were old pedophiles or drug dealers that deserved to die. They were never that young, nor that good looking. And this one doesn’t seem to fall into the same category, for some reason.
He sighs; a mark was a mark, and the money was definitely worth killing Mr. Right. Jun nods, picking up his gun, only to realize the man is back inside his house. He grumbles, rushing to pack up his stuff in a duffel bag. There’s a time limit for this peculiar case, so now he has to do it the dirty way. (Which meant he would have to go knock on the man’s door and either snap his neck or hit him in lethal areas.)
He curses when the mid-day bell starts ringing in his ear literally; nothing should be that loud. His cellphone is vibrating; he struggles to get his silver phone out of his tight jean pocket and blocks one ear-it’s his boss.
“Hello?” He doesn’t mean to sound apprehensive.
“I suspect things are running smoothly.” His boss is smirking against the receiver, well aware of the situation.
“Well,” He inhales a bit. “I know you have your sources. I haven’t killed him yet, but I’m about to.”
The man is still smirking for some reason. “I had a feeling, Jun. You always had a thing for the strong, silent type.” It almost feels like he’s setting him up to fail. “And you realize, if you can’t finish this, we’ll keep you on for another year.” Maybe it was all part of his plan.
“Wait-“ But the line goes dead before Jun can ask.
If this is his boss’ idea of a joke, it isn’t funny. Being tricked into working for another year is cruel and unusual punishment. But since it’s Nino, it would make perfect sense; he doesn’t like letting go of his best employees.
Jun runs down the rest of the stairs and finally makes his way outside. He knew there was a reason he usually avoided front doors. The blushing bride quirks an eye when he brushes past her, but he smiles politely and she lets him pass, assuming he’s just some staff member. The groom, on the other hand, seems to be irritated.
Jun pulls on his hoodie, sliding on oversized sunglasses and scrambling to cross the street before he forgets where his mark lives. The light turns red while he’s in the middle of the street. A car starts honking and Jun doesn’t flinch, throwing his middle finger up in response. Class was not something he valued anymore. Even the richest, most posh men begged for their lives in the end.
No more than five minutes later, Jun is in front of his victim’s door. The easy way to get in, he realized after years of practice, is to just ask. Breaking down doors and sneaking in through windows only brought on unwanted attention and broken nails. Jun wasn’t a fan of either.
He knocks a few times, hard enough for a man who lives in a three-story home to hear.
The door creaks open and of course they can’t make his job easy, life wasn’t nice to murderers. The doorman-because Jun doesn’t know what else to call him-is standing there with wide eyes, blinking slower than sloths move.
“Who are you?” Even though he looks harmless, the tone in his voice is defensive, despite him resembling a furry animal.
“I just need to use the phone, it’s an emergency. May I? Or can I ask the owner of the house?” Jun smiles brightly; charm was something he picked up back when his marks were politicians and lawyers. A smile always made things easier.
“I-I don’t think-“ The small man is pushed aside as the mark appears.
“Don’t mind Ohno, he’s protective of me.” The mark is so much more alluring up close, especially when he smiles. His face lights up, Jun thinks, but quickly ignores himself when his stomach turns. “A phone call you say? Sure, you seem okay.”
So do you, is what Jun wants to say, but holds his tongue. It’s not about who’s nice and who’s guilty, it’s about his ticket out of the hellhole he calls his life as an assassin. He had his dad to thank for bringing him into this mess in the first place.
“Thank you,” Jun bows, utilizing the only Japanese tradition he does know. He was born in North America and his parents never bothered to even teach him Japanese, nevermind the culture.
The mark laughs, loud and sincere, “No need for that. We’re in the US, last time I checked.”
Jun nods. Thank the heavens, even though they don’t want to hear about him. But now that he’s in, he needs to figure out how to quickly rid himself of the doubt swimming around, as well as the troublemaker causing it. Ohno isn’t someone to worry about, Jun thinks.
The mark points to a cordless phone on a red wood desk. “Use it as much as you need to.” He turns to leave, but remembers something he wanted to say. “My name is Sho, please don’t call me Sir or Sakurai.”
And Jun is frozen-with his mouth open he realizes, when Sho tells him to close it-because he’s almost scared to kill this man now.
The thing about his boss, Nino, is that he never said their name, nor why they needed to be eliminated. He would just send a picture and the amount the client was offering, which Jun has been fine with until now. Any other information Jun learned was from paying close attention to detail. But this, this was too huge of a detail to be in the dark about.
“I’ll leave you to your call,” Sho smiles and disappears into a room nearby.
And Jun suddenly realizes why he’s so carefree and unafraid of, well, anything. Who the fuck would want to kill the head of Yakuza’s son? Only a masochist bastard would fathom trying, because the amount of pain and torture that would rain on him afterward would haunt him long after his death.
Jun’s hands are shaking, he sees, when he picks up the receiver. If he was going down, Nino would be dragged along. Jun dials his boss’ number. “Nino.”
“What the fuck Jun!” And his anger isn’t genuine; Jun knows his boss better than he should.
“Cut the shit,” and he knows his ass is on the line for the rude tone, but this is a serious matter. “Nino, how could you put me up to kill the Sakurai family’s son?”
Nino grins, clearing his throat when he adds. “Can’t do it, can you?”
The punk planned this bullshit, Jun growls, pulling the receiver away. “What if I do? Then aren’t you one foot in the grave with me?” He’s not sure if he’s bluffing himself.
“If I gave you him, it’s ‘cause I know you’re capable.” Nino knows it’s not entirely true, but he has a safe house for himself if his plan fails. “Anyways, waste him or welcome back for another year.” Nino hangs up, holding onto his stomach as he laughs.
Jun grabs the hair at the top of his head and pulls, frustration filling him up faster than he can control it. And his eyes snap open when there’s a chuckle coming from behind him. He’s holding his breath at this point, praying that it’s that paranoid man who goes by Ohno. But God, as he knows, doesn’t like Jun’s line of work.
“So, you were sent here to kill me?” And Sho is so calm when he says it that it seems like Jun should expect a bullet to go through his skull any time now.
“What if I said no?” Jun is grasping at straws, trying to get out of this with his life.
“I would say you’re lying,” Sho snorts, walking toward Jun. “But then again, what would a killer have to gain from lying?”
Jun swallows the ball of tension in his throat, his tongue drier than sand paper. “Exactly.” Even though he knows that saying that in itself is a lie, considering he lied to get into the house to begin with.
Sho puts a hand on Jun’s shoulder, his grip progressively tightening on the slender frame. “You can try to kill me, but I’m not afraid of dying.” Sho’s smile is still as bright as the sun, although his hold is like a vice grip.
“I don’t want to kill you.” The lies have to stop if he wants to survive the day. How else could he make it to his island in the sun? “I just wanted to retire after this.” And Jun can’t keep the truth in any longer. “Plus, I don’t know what you’ve done wrong.”
Sho lets go of Jun’s shoulder, his gaze softening at the same time as his smile fades. “My lifestyle,” His voice cracks, but it’s like he turns into someone else when he continues. “Kill me or get the fuck out.”
Jun is startled by how blunt Sho is, not that he should be-he was the son of the most powerful man in Japan. And he can’t think what to say next, so he asks whatever comes to mind. “Where’s your father?”
Sho rolls his eyes and pushes Jun against the wall. “Who cares?! You have a gun; shoot or leave and I’ll pretend this never happened.”
The offer sounds sweeter than life itself, but for reasons unknown to Jun, he wants to stay and talk to this guy. Sho is looking down at the ground, his arm’s still encasing Jun against the wall. He’s hiding something, Jun decides.
“Why would you cover for me?” Jun asks, his voice so quiet he’s not sure if he’s said it aloud.
“I’m not,” Sho sighs, grabbing Jun’s wrist. “Listen, do I have to drag you out? Because I don’t think you’re going to shoot me. And I don’t need you here when my dad gets back. Then we’re both in deep shit.”
Both? Now Jun is insanely curious as to what this angry beauty is hiding. “I don’t want to leave yet.” Jun pulls his wrist away, crossing his arms.
Sho’s eyes widen, his brow furrowing when Jun’s lips curl upward. “What the fuck is wrong with you?”
“Right now,” Jun wonders how he should phrase it. “I just want to know what I’m up against.”
Sho curses under his breath, grabbing Jun’s wrist again, but pulling him in the opposite direction of the front door. “We’re going to my room then.”
Jun tries not to gape at the collection of Japanese murals and antiquities they pass by on the way to the third floor. Sho pushes Jun in roughly and locks the door behind them. “Name first. And don’t give me some messed up nickname that has to do with how you kill your victims. I hate that shit.”
Jun almost laughs; it’s true that most of his colleagues did that. “My name is Jun, and it’s not a nickname.” He sits on a chair that Sho pulls out from under a desk for him.
“Good,” He sits across from Jun, leaning in. “Now, the only reason you’re here is because I’m desperate, I guess.” They both knew that much, but it was worth repeating. “It’s not like it’s everyday I can speak to someone close to my level.”
Jun almost feels flattered. Though, most of the friends he had went to work for the Yakuza after quitting his company. Maybe this was how it happened. “I understand.” Jun isn’t here to kill, so he lets Sho talk.
“Okay, well,” Sho lowers his voice. “I have a feeling I know who put a hit out on me.”
Jun raises a brow; wasn’t it Nino who planned this whole mess just to keep Jun from quitting? If there was an actual client behind it all, they were insane to think it would cost only 200k. He nods and gestures for Sho to continue.
“I can’t tell you though, until I’m absolutely sure.” Sho leans back, crossing his legs, waiting for Jun to say something.
“So,” Jun raises a brow. “You think you know, but until you know 100% you won’t tell me?” He scoffs, crossing his legs also. “Is it everyday you have a trained killer in your house?”
Sho chuckles, rubbing his neck. “Kind of. But I doubt they’re as hot as you.” Which, Sho knows is completely irrelevant, but he’s been thinking it ever since Jun came to the door.
Jun snorts and looks at his nails. “Does it matter? As long as I’m good, right?” And somehow this is going in a completely inappropriate direction.
“Good? I wonder,” Sho rubs his chin as though he’s actually imagining it. And Jun can’t help but laugh. “Since I let you live, and you let me live-“
And Jun knows where this is going, wishes he didn’t want to bang his brains out just from how easy he sounds. Their whole relationship, if it can be called that, is far past skewed and he doesn’t care. He’s just waiting for his cue.
“What are you trying to say?” Jun knows, plays it cool instead.
“Let’s fuck.” Sho answers, the tone of his voice dropping drastically, like he’s horny already. “And don’t pretend you didn’t think of this.”
Jun smiles; the son of the Yakuza is propositioning him, and it was almost cute how honest he is. “Should I think about it?” If he pushes Sho a bit more, maybe the sex will be better.
“Fuckin’ tease,” Sho grumbles, fisting his hand in Jun’s hair, dragging him in for a kiss. “You want to be punished for your sins? Or your dirty mouth?”
Jun thinks it’s terrible how hot (and aroused) Sho sounds, considering he should have an image to preserve. “You think you can?” Jun isn’t about to lose, though.
Sho is up and pushing Jun against the wall seconds later. Hands sneak under his shirt and scrape down his chest, lips crashing together like a pileup of cars. Jun can’t breathe, but Sho’s mouth is so warm and delicious, he can’t get himself to pull away. Sho is just as stubborn, if not more, already undoing his belt and opening his zipper.
“Jun,” Sho finally caves, pulling away for air. “I’m hard.”
And Jun would have told anyone else that they were shit out of luck. But Sho is powerful, and greedy for everything he’s willing to give, and best of all he won’t judge his world because he’s in it too.
So, before Sho can ask properly, Jun is on his knees, bobbing like he’s looking for apples. Sho moans loudly, his fingers tangling in Jun’s long, dark locks, pulling him in gently. Jun relaxes his jaw, prepared for rougher treatment; this is the Yakuza we’re talking about.
When he can still breathe around the hard cock, can still control the rhythm of his sucking, he wonders why the hell this man is so caring for someone he doesn’t know. (And probably doesn’t want to know.)
Sho pets Jun’s hair, his hips thrusting into Jun’s mouth slowly, carefully even. “Feels so good,” And he strips off his shirt, his palms pressed against the wall behind Jun.
Jun wants him to slide his cock in further, because he’s so hot he wants to see how climax looks displayed across his face. Sho pulls back, and Jun is a bit disappointed, but then he’s being dragged up for a punishing kiss and all is well again.
It’s rougher than the first, like he was trying to fuck Jun with his tongue, teeth and lips. And Jun can’t deny that he’s getting harder with every roll of that skilled tongue because, well, he is. Sho moans and pops open Jun’s button, dropping the jeans to the ground. The air is cool against his skin, but not for long.
Sho presses his hips snugly into Jun’s, grinding so infectiously that Jun doesn’t know how long he can last. All the emotions and knowledge behind this is what makes it that much more sensual. Jun is a fucking killer, being grinded into by a seductive Yakuza child with a taste for cock. Nothing makes sense, but it feels like heaven.
Sho’s lips attach to Jun’s neck, and Jun lifts a leg so Sho can finally fuck him because he knows neither of them are going to last much longer. Sho sinks his teeth into Jun’s neck, his fingers snaking over the pale skin of Jun’s chest to fill his lips. “Suck.”
And Jun feels like a slut, but Sho is acting like one too, so he doesn’t feel half as bad. His tongue swirls and sucks on two of Sho’s digits, imagining it’s that cock he lusts for with every inch of his skin. He spreads because he knows what’s coming next, even before Sho knows what he’s doing.
Fingers push against the tight entrance, his lips never leaving Jun’s collarbone; he needs it as a distraction, Sho thinks. Jun’s been around though, and he’s done it without prepping before. Shit, he’s even been fucked when he was asleep, but he was good with pain. Good with giving pain to others too.
“Just fuck me,” Jun hisses, Sho’s fingers scissoring inside him so deliciously his cock is throbbing with every movement.
And he nods silently, pulling his fingers out. “But, here,” And Jun is being carried across the room like a child, with his legs wrapped around Sho’s waist securely. Sho puts Jun’s back on the bed, pulling his hips to the edge slowly. “Ready?” And he knows it isn’t necessary, but he’s not used to being with someone as experienced as himself.
“Just,” And Jun spreads his legs as wide as he can. “Now!”
Sho all but whimpers, wondering if he needs lube and a condom before he starts. “Do you want-“
“Did you not hear me? Fuck. Me. Now.” Jun is closing his eyes, leaning back against the bed with his legs in the air.
He pulls Jun’s legs closer, pushing his cock in. Slowly, he murmurs. Jun can hear and doesn’t want this romantic scenario Sho is creating so he pushes Sho’s hips in closer himself, crying out when the tip brushes against his prostate. “Move, fuck.”
Sho nods, which is pointless since their eyes are closed, and his hips start thrusting in at a maddening pace. Jun doesn’t expect it to be so fast from the start, but can’t complain due to how much noise is coming from his mouth. He grabs his cock and jerks the tip quickly, his thumb rubbing over the slit to use the precum as lubricant. Sho finally forces his eyes open and the way Jun is thrashing side to side only gives him more fuel. He grabs the smooth thighs and drives himself in deeper with each following thrust.
Jun babbles incoherently, spilling himself when Sho leans in to suck on his lip. The moan Jun lets out resounds in Sho’s ears, repeating like a broken tape player, until he’s climaxing into the thinner man.
His arms are shaking, trying to keep himself from falling atop Jun (and the white mess on that sexy abdomen). Jun hums, sliding out from under Sho’s body. “Can I shower first?”
Sho’s body is still heaving when he nods and sits on the edge of his bed.
Jun is smiling when the water hits his skin. And though being clean always makes him happy, that’s not why he’s smiling like an elementary school student. Sho, he whispers below the warmth. That man is a handful of problems, but a myriad of amazing surprises. The good outweighed the bad so many times over; Jun couldn’t believe he was thinking it himself.
He’s still smiling when he comes out of the shower. Sho is sleeping, still a mess and sweaty (and probably sticky), but just as gorgeous. Jun hates the way he’s thinking, frowning and dabbing the water out of his hair. Who was he to fall for the son of the Yakuza? Wait, he stops drying his hair while he ponders. Did he actually like Sho that much? It was just sex. Great sex, but it was sex nonetheless.
He nods, continuing to dab his wet strands of hair. Sex could make anyone think they were in love when it was just lust. Jun snorts, wrapping a towel around his waist. He’s about to wake up Sho when he hears footsteps coming toward the door. Jun hides behind the bathroom door, just in case the person is there to kill him. Or worse, if could be Nino coming to get him.
The man walks into the room like he owns it, his shoes making the floor creak with every step. Sho is still sound asleep by the time an old man is hovering over him. The man pets Sho’s cheek gently as he starts to whisper to himself. “Sho, you know I love you. But I’m the leader of the Yakuza. How can I scare people when my son is a queer?”
Jun gasps. The man turns to look for the source of the sound. When he sees nothing, he goes back to whispering. “So I hired someone to kill you, but they’re too afraid of me. Guess I have to do it myself.” The old man pulls out a gun from his pocket, pointing it to Sho’s head.
Jun bends down, sneaking out of the bathroom on all fours. His silencer is only a few feet away, but does he have time? Sho’s father’s hand is shaking and his eyes are filling with tears, but his finger is wrapping around the trigger slowly. Jun rolls across the floor noisily to distract the crying man and shoots him between the eyes when he looks in Jun’s direction.
-----------------------------------------
Typical, he quietly murmurs between puffs of his cigarette.
He’s still wrapped in his towel while he leans against the wall, watching over Sho who sleeps like a dead man. (Which his father had arranged to make permanent, but failed.) His father, surprisingly, fell further back on the bed when he died. Jun thinks it’s funny how things turned out.
Sho is still alive, he is still alive, but the client is dead. He knows he’s going to be massacred by Nino when he gets word of this, but it doesn’t matter. What he did have to worry about, on the other hand, was how many angry, revengeful Yakuza members were willing to try and kill him. Though, having the boss’ son on your side kind of made things seem less bad.
Jun sits on the bed next to Sho, shaking him lightly. The drowsy man stretches, smiling up at Jun when he realizes who it is. “Hey beautiful.”
“No time,” Jun points to Sho’s father on the higher part of the bed.
“Holy shit!” Sho jumps off the bed, pointing at the dead man incredulously.
“Yeah,” Jun stands up, rubbing Sho’s shoulder. “He’s the one who wanted you dead.” Sho sighs, letting his arm drop, depressed. “What now?”
“Now, we run.” Sho walks into the bathroom, starting the water in the shower. He needs to clean off first.
Jun doesn’t need to wait for the explanation. Apparently being friends with a Yakuza son isn’t helpful at all, and now they were both going to be pursued by a bloodthirsty gang of Japanese men. And as silly as it sounds when he thinks about it, he doesn’t regret a thing. His story is meant to continue this way. Jun smiles, knocking on the bathroom door. “Do you want seconds?”
And though their lives may end soon, it’ll be fun while it lasts. Maybe he doesn’t need a deserted island to be happy-just some gay gangster boss’ son who fucks like his life depends on it. Jun knows that’s what people, like him and Sho, consider romantic. He grins when he climbs in the shower and lips devour his own without hesitation.
The end.
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