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Yoshitaka stepped to one side as the door of the chairman's office flew open and Aoyama hurried through. With a huff and glare, Aoyama snapped, "Maybe you can deal with him," and stalked past, grumbling unintelligibly.
Yoshitaka watched him go, then knocked on the open door and waited for Daigo's call to enter. When it came, he stepped into the office, closed the door behind him, and took a moment to survey the scene.
Daigo stood behind his desk, arms spread and braced against the glossy top as he glared at the papers arrayed there, his mouth a hard twist. He didn't move as Yoshitaka circled the seating area to approach the desk, and his gaze did not leave the papers until Yoshitaka stood across the desk from him. His eyes lifted then, still narrowed as they met Yoshitaka's. "No more business," he declared. "I could use a drink."
"Of course, Chairman." Yoshitaka set his briefcase down and swiftly crossed the room to retrieve a rocks glass from the sideboard. "The Hibiki?"
"No." Daigo's footsteps approached from behind, but halted near the window. "The 35 year would be wasted on me now." He sighed and a moment later continued, "The Hakushu 18 year, I think. Pour yourself one, too."
Silent, Yoshitaka set out a second glass, then reached for the familiar green bottle. He poured a healthy measure into one glass and a more conservative one into the other, then capped the bottle and set it aside. When he turned with the glasses in hand, Daigo stood before the window as expected, his eyes squeezed shut as he pinched the bridge of his nose with one hand. Yoshitaka closed the distance between them and tapped the fuller glass against Daigo's forearm.
Daigo made a small, unhappy sound, but opened his eyes and took the glass from Yoshitaka's hand. Lifting it to his lips, he sipped, then met Yoshitaka's eyes. "I'm glad you're here, Mine."
Warmth flared in Yoshitaka's chest, warmth he tried to ignore as he swirled the whisky in his glass. "I'm honored by your regard, Chairman," he said. When Daigo turned his gaze to the window, Yoshitaka inhaled deeply. "Is there anything I can do?"
Daigo shook his head, then turned abruptly from the window and all but collapsed on one of the sofas. "No," he grumbled, then sighed again. "Yes. Sit with me." When Yoshitaka moved to sit on the other sofa, Daigo patted the seat beside him. "Here."
Yoshitaka pushed aside his unease and joined Daigo on the sofa. He took a healthy swallow of his whisky as he studied Daigo's stiff expression, then quietly asked, "May I offer assistance?"
"There's a... complication with the Okinawa deal," Daigo said, then sighed again. "I'll handle it later. For now, let's just enjoy our drinks."
Yoshitaka acknowledged with a nod and for some time they drank in silence. Daigo's knee pressed against his, a connection that Yoshitaka couldn't find it in himself to break even as he found his attention monopolized by the heat of the contact. Only when he set his empty glass on the table before them did Daigo move away, and Yoshitaka found himself immediately chilled.
"Another?" he asked, already rising, only to be stopped by Daigo's hand on his wrist. He paused awkwardly, then sat again when Daigo drew him back. "Chairman?"
"What do you see when you look at me, Yoshitaka?"
He'd never tire of his name on Daigo's lips. "I see a man," he answered, words drawn out as he considered how to continue, "who is true to himself, loyal, and underestimated too often." He twisted in his seat and closed his hand over Daigo's, still wrapped around his wrist. "I see the only man I respect."
Daigo considered him for a long moment before he looked away with a frown. "You see more than I do," he murmured, then released Yoshitaka and stood. "You should go."
Yoshitaka stood as well and raised his hand, only to lower again when he realized he had no idea what he'd intended to do with it. "Should I?"
A wry laugh huffed from Daigo's lips. "No." He tipped his head back to drink the last of his whisky, and set his glass beside Yoshitaka's. "Just an idea. Not a very good one."
"You don't want me to go," Yoshitaka interpreted.
"I don't." Daigo plowed his fingers through his hair, tousling the carefully-styled strands. "As a friend, I'd like you to stay."
"As a friend," Yoshitaka echoed, "I could stay." He took a step closer, enough that his chest brushed against Daigo's, enough that their breaths mingled as Daigo's eyes snapped to meet his. "Is that all you want, Daigo?"
"No." He touched Yoshitaka's cheek lightly and traced his thumb along the line of his cheekbone.
Yoshitaka waited for more, waited for Daigo to move his hand to the nape of his neck, to hold him steady as he leaned in, bold as he'd been in the privacy of the onsen. It wasn't until Daigo's hand slipped away that Yoshitaka realized it was his move—that it had always been his move.
"Don't," Yoshitaka said roughly. He grabbed Daigo's hand and pulled it to his mouth to press a heated kiss to his palm, rewarded with Daigo's harsh intake of breath as Yoshitaka touched the tip of his tongue to Daigo's skin. It was heady, tasted of power as much as salt, and Yoshitaka could wait no longer—he dropped Daigo's hand to lean in and claim his mouth.
Daigo's groan against his lips was heartfelt, mouth already open to the violence of Yoshitaka's kiss. He made no protest when Yoshitaka grabbed his hair, when Yoshitaka yanked him to a more satisfying angle, when Yoshitaka gripped his waist and pressed closer still. He echoed the thrust of Yoshitaka's tongue with equal fervor, even as he grasped Yoshitaka's biceps and used the leverage to push him back toward the sofa.
Yoshitaka tore his mouth away as his calves hit the edge, and shook off Daigo's hold. "No," he said, voice rough enough that he barely recognized it. He ran his teeth along Daigo's jaw, let the stubble there tickle his lips, then stepped out of reach and backed away until he could turn to the office door.
The lock engaged with a snick that seemed almost too loud in the suddenly-silent room.
"Yoshitaka," Daigo said, but Yoshitaka ignored him as he crossed to the window. The sashes on the drapes came loose easily, and Yoshitaka let them hang as he yanked the drapes shut to insulate the office from the outside world.
The press of lips against the nape of his neck startled him, but before he could jerk away Daigo's arms circled his waist, his chest a firm heat against Yoshitaka's back. "Let me," he murmured against Yoshitaka's sensitive skin, as one hand splayed over Yoshitaka's belly and held him in place. "Just for a moment."
Yoshitaka tipped his head down a little to bare more of the skin between his collar and hair, allowing Daigo room to paint it with kisses. He clenched his hands in the drapes he'd just closed; Daigo had barely touched him, and already he was unable to catch his breath.
He didn't realize he'd released the drapes, much less threaded his fingers through Daigo's, until he felt a tremor against his palm. He squeezed the digits against his belly, then guided them to the first of the buttons of his suit jacket. Together, they clumsily worked the button free from its buttonhole, but before they could move onto the next, Daigo pulled his mouth away and turned Yoshitaka to face him.
They were a fairly even match—there was little chance Daigo could easily manhandle Yoshitaka if he didn't want it—but Yoshitaka offered no resistance as Daigo pulled him away from the window to pin him against the wall. Hands on Yoshitaka's shoulders, Daigo simply watched him for a long moment before slowly leaning in to press his closed mouth to the corner of Yoshitaka's.
It was a surprisingly tender gesture and discomfort swirled in Yoshitaka's belly as he turned his head to meet Daigo's lips with his own. He tilted his head to better accommodate the kiss and licked his way into Daigo's mouth, eyes heavy-lidded as he watched thoughts flicker through Daigo's. When Daigo's eyes closed, Yoshitaka's did as well, the better to focus on the twist of Daigo's tongue, the tension in his lips, the soft, apparently-unconscious sounds that slipped from his throat.
Yoshitaka's hands found Daigo's chest, blindly following the edges of his lapels until he came to the buttons holding Daigo's jacket closed. Determinedly, he worked each button free until he could slide his hands under the fabric and shove it from Daigo's shoulders. Daigo resisted for a moment, but surrendered his hold in the face of Yoshitaka's insistence and allowed Yoshitaka to slide the jacket down his arms and off. Yoshitaka flung it in the vague direction of the sofa, uncaring where it landed as his hands found Daigo's back and clutched the fine fabric of the shirt covering it.
They made out like teenagers, kisses blending one into another as Yoshitaka reveled in the feel of Daigo against him, until it wasn't enough. He tugged Daigo's shirt from the back of his pants, the fabric creased with the fervor of his grip, and slid a hand beneath it to dig his fingers into the heavy muscle there. Daigo shuddered against him, and finally relinquished Yoshitaka's mouth to instead press his lips to the pulse thrumming at Yoshitaka's throat.
"Fuck," Yoshitaka breathed, inarticulate and uncaring, and grabbed Daigo's shirt again to untuck it completely with a yank. A button popped from the bottom, pinging softly against Yoshitaka's jacket before dropping to the floor to be lost—and if that wasn't a sign, Yoshitaka didn't know what was. He released the shirt long enough to find the knot of Daigo's tie and yank it loose, to let the rumpled silk slither free from its hold around Daigo's neck and join the button on the floor, then fisted his hands in Daigo's shirt again and pulled.
The rest of the buttons popping off was like a round of cannonfire, and Daigo's laugh capped it as his hands closed around Yoshitaka's wrists. "I liked this shirt," he said huskily, then brought his mouth to Yoshitaka's ear and nipped the lobe. "I like it better now."
Yoshitaka exhaled, shook his head, and turned his attention to coaxing the ruined shirt down Daigo's arms until it caught at his hands, stymied by his grasp of Yoshitaka. "Let go."
Daigo resisted with a hard squeeze. "Will you make me?" he asked, an unfamiliar playful note in his voice, and Yoshitaka accepted the challenge there: He nimbly twisted his wrists to break Daigo's hold. In the next breath, he spun Daigo away from him, dragged his shirt away in the same movement, and forced one of Daigo's arms behind his back. Daigo laughed. "Fine, fine, you've proven your point."
"I'm not done yet," Yoshitaka breathed against his ear. He chuckled at Daigo's sharp inhale, and twisted them both to pin Daigo to the wall, held firmly by the line of Yoshitaka's body. With his chest flush against Daigo's back, Yoshitaka kicked apart Daigo's feet and settled between his spread legs.
The first brush of his stiffening cock against Daigo's ass was enough to make him groan, low and throaty. A soft thunk made him realize he'd closed his eyes, and he opened them to find that Daigo had dropped his forehead to the wall, forearms braced to either side of it as he arched slightly into the pressure of Yoshitaka's hips.
Yoshitaka skimmed his hands up Daigo's ribs as he found the meat of Daigo's shoulder with his teeth. He scraped them along the line of muscle to his neck and bit down hard where they met, pleased when Daigo made a harsh sound and clenched his fists against the wall.
"You like that?" he breathed into Daigo's ear as his thumbs stroked lightly over Daigo's ribs.
Daigo laughed breathlessly and pushed away from the wall, muscles tense as he powered through Yoshitaka's automatic resistance. "No," he said, and suddenly Yoshitaka was staggered as Daigo hooked a foot around his ankle and jerked. Before Yoshitaka could recover his balance, Daigo turned to face him and caught his elbow, drew them together again, then let his hand slide down Yoshitaka's arm until he'd guided Yoshitaka's hand to his hip. "I'll make an exception for you."
This time, Yoshitaka didn't have to part Daigo's legs; he spread them eagerly as he lifted both hands to trace along Yoshitaka's jaw before holding him still to seek another kiss. Yoshitaka was helpless to resist it as he opened his mouth to the thrust of Daigo's tongue and met it with his own. A ragged groan rose between them, one Yoshitaka wasn't entirely certain hadn't come from him.
Daigo pulled back just enough to draw away from the depth of the kiss without entirely relinquishing Yoshitaka's mouth, and brushed his fingers down the center of Yoshitaka's chest. It was only as they bumped over the buttons of his shirt that Yoshitaka realized he was still fully clothed—and that wouldn't do. He'd have been embarrassed by how clumsy his fingers were as he worked the remainder of the buttons of his jacket free had he not been distracted by Daigo's mouth as he deepened the kiss again. When all of the buttons were finally loosed, Yoshitaka shrugged his jacket off, aided by the eager run of Daigo's hands, and tossed it aside.
"Yoshitaka," Daigo murmured against his lips, and Yoshitaka couldn't stop the whisper of a moan at the sound of his name in the rasping velvet Daigo's voice had become. He wrapped one arm around Daigo's neck, then the other, and tightened his hold when Daigo tried to move away. "Yoshitaka," Daigo said again, and chuckled. "Let go, just for a moment."
Yoshitaka frowned, but obliged as he let his arms slide down to instead loop loosely around Daigo's shoulders. "Don't you dare stop again."
Daigo blinked, then pecked Yoshitaka's chin, a tiny nip of a kiss. "I don't think I could." Within the circle of Yoshitaka's arms, he slipped his hands between them to work the knot of Yoshitaka's tie free. When he'd accomplished it, he wrapped the tie around his hand and shot Yoshitaka a teasing glance. "Something to consider for next time," he drawled, then tipped his hand to let the tie fall to the floor.
"Worry about this time first," Yoshitaka grouched, and released Daigo to instead turn his attention to his shirt buttons.
Daigo rested his hands on Yoshitaka's hips and watched silently, a faint smirk playing around his mouth. Only when Yoshitaka had untucked his shirt so that it hung open over his chest did Daigo hum. "I appreciate your pragmatism." He bent to press his mouth to Yoshitaka's sternum, almost chastely—an impression dispelled a moment later when he flattened his tongue against Yoshitaka's skin and dragged it up to his throat.
They were kissing again before Yoshitaka even realized he'd moved; somehow he'd wound his fingers in Daigo's hair and pulled him up. He imagined he could taste his own skin on Daigo's tongue and groaned, chasing the sensation as he shrugged out of his shirt and added it to the growing pile on the floor.
Daigo made a satisfied noise as he hooked his thumbs into Yoshitaka's belt loops and pulled Yoshitaka's groin against his.
As much as he'd enjoyed the feel of Daigo's ass when he'd pushed against it, the first heated press of Daigo's stiff cock against his nearly whited out his vision as sound faded away, replaced by the rush of blood in his ears. He hadn't felt like this since his first time, but it was comparing night and day; Daigo had nothing in common with the woman he'd fucked and forgotten about as soon as he'd left the hotel. He was on an entirely different level—his own level, one no-one else could ever ascend to.
He didn't realize that he had dropped his head back until Daigo's teeth were at his throat, dragging over the column of it as if it belonged to him. Perhaps it did. Still, Yoshitaka thrust his hands into Daigo's hair again and pulled him away, enough for him to tip his head forward and press their foreheads together. "Why?" he asked, surprising himself—surprising both of them to judge by the slight widening of Daigo's eyes.
"Why...?" Daigo echoed as he tilted his head slightly against Yoshitaka's. "You're going to have to clarify."
Yoshitaka studied Daigo's eyes as they stared into his. This close, they were a chaotic mix of browns, shades from amber to chocolate mingling into a burnt caramel that was far too easy to fall into. "I thought you were the seer," he said without thought, then frowned when Daigo chuckled.
"So much for my new career," he said, then leaned back to regard Yoshitaka with a quiet intensity. "Have you done this before?"
Yoshitaka scoffed and mirrored Daigo's position, sliding his thumbs through Daigo's belt loops and fanning his fingers over his hips. "I'm hardly a blushing virgin."
Daigo’s lips curled with a faint smirk. “With men?”
Yoshitaka quirked a brow. “Have you?” he challenged, even as he squashed the ugly jealousy that reared up at the thought of another's hands on Daigo's skin.
Daigo hummed and tugged Yoshitaka by his belt loops until their cocks nestled together and he could nuzzle Yoshitaka’s cheek. “I’ve fucked men, yes,” he purred near Yoshitaka’s ear. “Stay here.”
Before Yoshitaka could formulate a question, Daigo had released him, plucked Yoshitaka's hands from his hips, and turned to walk behind his desk. Yoshitaka briefly met Fudo Myo-o’s eyes before his gaze dropped to admire how Daigo filled out his pants; at the onsen, he’d been distracted by the tattoo, but it couldn’t compete now with the body it adorned—not now that Yoshitaka had gotten a taste of it. As Daigo bent to retrieve something from a drawer, Yoshitaka moved to unbuckle his belt, the rattle of it sliding through the frame just loud enough to be heard over the soft scrape of the drawer being shut.
“No,” Daigo said firmly as he straightened. “Leave it.” Another smirk lifted a corner of his mouth and he lobbed a bottle at Yoshitaka.
Catching it easily, Yoshitaka turned it to read the label. “Semen Lotion?” He shot Daigo a sly look. “What have you been up to in here, Chairman?”
Daigo shrugged, his expression droll. “I believe in preparation.” He circled the desk and leaned back against it, thighs propped against the edge as he spread his legs in apparent invitation. “What would you say if I asked you to fuck me, Yoshitaka?”
Yoshitaka struggled to not show his shock, face frozen. “Yes.” He stalked toward Daigo, one hand closed tightly around the bottle of lube as the other lifted to press flat to the center of Daigo’s chest. “But I don’t want you to ask.”
Daigo looked down at Yoshitaka's pinning hand. "You prefer the hunt," he ventured, then braced his hands to either side of his hips, fingers curled over the desk's edge. "I'm no prey."
Stepping between Daigo's knees, Yoshitaka ground their cocks together as he rubbed his cheek against Daigo's, the rasp of carefully-cultivated stubble almost maddening. "Predators make the most interesting prey," he murmured, and bit the corner of Daigo's jaw. He felt more than heard Daigo's laugh, a low rumble against his palm.
"Shall we make the hunt more interesting?" Daigo asked mildly, the only warning Yoshitaka had before Daigo pushed. Attempting to step back and recover his balance, Yoshitaka stumbled over the foot Daigo had wrapped behind his ankle and, with nothing but skin under his hand to grab, went down hard. He was still winded when Daigo followed him down, straddling his hips and leaning over until their noses nearly touched. "Growl."
Yoshitaka surprised himself by barking out a laugh, then fisted both hands in Daigo's thoroughly-disheveled hair and held him steady as he lifted his head to bring their mouths together. The kiss was unexpectedly tender, brushes of lips that slowly built into a soft press that he was strangely loath to deepen. Daigo sighed softly into the space between them and slid a hand into Yoshitaka's hair to cradle the back of his head, a simple touch that disconcertingly made Yoshitaka's eyes burn—he couldn't remember the last time human contact had made him feel cherished.
Daigo's name blurred between their lips as Yoshitaka dropped the bottle of lube and wrapped his arms around Daigo's back. His fingers skimmed the heated skin there, and he imagined he could feel the colors beneath his fingertips as he explored, wondering if Fudo Myo-o's sword would slice into them. Finding the line of Daigo's spine, Yoshitaka followed it down until his path was blocked by Daigo's pants, an irritating impediment that required addressing.
Yoshitaka brought his hands back to Daigo's shoulders, silently grateful when Daigo let himself be pushed upright. He shifted between Daigo's thighs, hissed softly as the movement stimulated his increasingly-insistent erection, and rocked into Daigo's heat before he recalled his purpose. Hauling his shoulders from the floor, he held himself up just enough to be able to watch as he reached for Daigo's belt and unbuckled it. He pulled the tail slowly through the buckle's frame and enjoyed the heave of Daigo's belly each time his hands brushed Daigo's skin, then glanced up once it was free, to find Daigo's eyes fixed lower.
"Impressive," Daigo murmured as he ran his fingertips over Yoshitaka's tensed abdominals, tracing the defined lines of muscle as he watched. "Your dedication is a thing of beauty, Yoshitaka."
Deflecting with an absent hum, Yoshitaka plucked Daigo's hand away, guiding it instead to the waistband of Daigo's pants. "You do it." He smirked when Daigo's gaze flicked to meet his, and drew his arms back to prop himself up on his elbows. "Go on."
Daigo laughed softly, and slid a thumb under his waistband. Rather than undo its fastening, though, he bent to claim another kiss, pressing his advantage until Yoshitaka shifted his weight to free an arm. Only then did Daigo straighten and swiftly slide the top button free, before he paused and regarded Yoshitaka. "You want to watch," he said, and smiled faintly when Yoshitaka nodded. "I see."
Yoshitaka swallowed thickly when Daigo's fingers dipped into his open waistband, disappearing to tunnel beneath the fabric. The shift of it over Daigo's hand as he wrapped his hand around his cock was entrancing, but even that couldn't compare to Daigo's face as his eyes went heavy-lidded and his lips parted. He was a work of art, a study in contrasts, and Yoshitaka couldn't have looked away if the demand had been made with a gun to his head.
Daigo stroked lazily once, then again, and chuckled as Yoshitaka's gaze flickered between his hidden hand and his face. "Next?" he asked, the playful note back in his tone, and pulled his hand free to instead turn to the buttons of his fly. With careful, deliberate attention, he freed each one until finally the last was done. He inhaled with a soft hitch, then seized one of Yoshitaka's wrists and dragged his hand to his silk-covered shaft.
The angle was awkward and the fabric of Daigo's underwear a decided detriment, but still the shape of the cock against his palm was like a brand; he'd never held another man's, never experienced the sense of familiar-yet-not, and that was a shame if it always felt as good as it did now—though, if any man but Daigo tried to shove his dick in Yoshitaka's hand, he'd end up swallowing his teeth, so perhaps it was just as well that Daigo was the first.
"You're thinking too hard." Daigo squeezed Yoshitaka's hand, holding it against his heat as he bent for another kiss. Yoshitaka met it eagerly, tangling their tongues as he tightened his hold experimentally, rewarded by a soft moan as Daigo rocked into his grip. "Like that," he murmured against Yoshitaka's lips, and shifted his hand to thread his fingers through Yoshitaka's—an apparent predilection that Yoshitaka had no desire to challenge.
It seemed like hours that they kissed as they lazily stroked Daigo's cock, even though surely no more than a minute passed. At last, Yoshitaka broke the kiss and Daigo's hold to awkwardly push him up again. "I want," he began, only to trail off when he realized that what he wanted encapsulated everything: to feel every inch of Daigo's skin, to know the sounds he made when he came, to never stop kissing him. "You."
Daigo made a pleased sound and slid back until he straddled Yoshitaka's thighs instead, moved clever fingers to pop the button of Yoshitaka's pants. "I know," he said contemplatively, eyes flicking to meet Yoshitaka's before dropping once more to his hands. "I know." He caught the pull of Yoshitaka's zipper and lowered it, the soft buzz as the teeth separated barely audible over their heavy breathing. "You're perfect."
It wasn't the first time Yoshitaka had heard the words They usually made him feel like a trophy, a fashion accessory, a status symbol—but on Daigo's lips, he heard nothing but earnest truth, and it sent an electric jolt through him. He knocked Daigo's hands away, gripped Daigo's thighs, and rolled him onto his back, followed to blanket Daigo's body with his own. "I'm not," he said, and stole another kiss before Daigo could argue.
Against his, Daigo's lips quirked with a faint smile, but he seemed content to let the matter lie as he opened to Yoshitaka's kiss again. He was far from passive, however; he wasted no time in hooking his fingers in the waistband of Yoshitaka's pants and working them down to his thighs, repeated a moment later with his briefs until his neglected cock sprang free. Yoshitaka couldn't help the groan that rumbled between them any more than he could the abortive thrust of his hips that dragged the soft skin of his shaft over the material that still encased Daigo's.
The sound Daigo made might have been intended as a word, but the letters were an unintelligible slur. His hands found Yoshitaka's hair and held him still for a bruising kiss as his hips lifted, sliding the thin fabric separating them against Yoshitaka's cock again. The slight rasp was a sweet torture that Yoshitaka couldn't resist pressing into—but it wasn't enough.
Inching his hips back, he worked his hands inside Daigo's underwear, and groaned softly at the feel of Daigo's skin against his palms as they slid over his hips to cradle his ass. Within his grasp, Daigo's muscles tightened, a tension that Yoshitaka couldn't help chasing with a squeeze. Daigo broke their lingering kiss with a laugh and rocked his hips again, and suddenly enough was too much.
Yoshitaka buried his face in Daigo's throat, teeth skimming over skin as he slid his hands down to Daigo's thighs, dragging briefs and pants together with the movement. "Yoshitaka," Daigo said, his name a rumble against Yoshitaka's lips, and lifted his hips again as his hands moved from Yoshitaka's hair to assist in his efforts. A heartbeat later, Daigo's remaining clothes were off his hips and his hand was between them to close around their cocks.
Yoshitaka shuddered, helpless to keep from thrusting into Daigo's grasp as his eyes snapped shut. "Right there," he said, not entirely certain what he was referring to, and added his opposing hand to Daigo's to complete the circuit, giving them a tight tunnel of fingers and palms to fuck into. He gasped softly as Daigo's hips echoed his thrust, sliding their cocks together as Daigo squeezed his hand around their pressed flesh.
"Like that?" Daigo asked, only to chuckle when Yoshitaka slit his eyes open to glare at him, lips twisted in a scowl. "Something else, then." His hand slid away, taking Yoshitaka's with it, but before Yoshitaka could protest Daigo rolled them over, and shifted back to slide slowly down Yoshitaka's thighs as his lips trailed over Yoshitaka's throat, across his chest, tongue tracking the shadow of his ribs before moving lower still.
"Daigo," Yoshitaka began, only to be distracted when Daigo's tongue swirled around his navel. "What—?"
"I should think that would be apparent by now," Daigo said lightly, then bit the sharp line of Yoshitaka's pelvic bone. "Keep up."
Yoshitaka propped himself up on an elbow again to watch Daigo as he nibbled his way down Yoshitaka's belly, the muscles tensed under Daigo's attentions. When Daigo's fingers curled around his dick, he exhaled a low moan, unable to look away as Daigo's mouth joined his hand. His lips wrapped around the crown a heartbeat before his tongue swirled again, the slick pressure of it against the sensitive skin a delicious torment.
"Daigo," Yoshitaka said again, and though he heard the note of wonder in it, he didn't have the capacity to consider it as Daigo slowly slid his mouth down to meet the edge of the hand he still had wrapped around Yoshitaka's length. He pulled off briefly to lick his lips, his gaze thoughtful as he glanced at Yoshitaka's face, then shifted his hand to cup Yoshitaka's balls as he licked a broad stripe from the base of Yoshitaka's cock to the tip.
It wasn't a practiced blowjob by any means, but the edge of roughness in the suction of his mouth, the press of his fingers, the occasional lack of policing of teeth was heady—downright addictive if Yoshitaka were to be honest. Daigo's tousled hair tickled the skin of his groin as it fell loose from its usual coif, obscuring Yoshitaka's view until he reached down to push it from where it blocked Daigo's face.
Daigo startled at Yoshitaka's touch, dark eyes flicking to meet Yoshitaka's as he sucked his way off his dick until the head slid from between his lips with a wet pop. Yoshitaka bit off his groan, eyes squeezing shut for a moment before he opened them to watch as he smoothed Daigo's hair behind his ear. "That's enough."
The corner of Daigo's mouth quirked. "That bad, was it?" He flicked the tip of his tongue over Yoshitaka's slit as he grasped Yoshitaka's shaft again.
Yoshitaka trailed his fingers over Daigo's cheek. "I don't want to come in your mouth," he confided. "There's something else I'd prefer."
"Is that so?" Daigo's lips quirked again, a sliver of amusement as he let his hand fall away and pushed up to kneel between Yoshitaka's feet. "What would that be?"
Yoshitaka pulled his feet up to roll to his own knees, shuffling over until he was able to lean in close enough to share Daigo's breath. "I want to fuck you," he growled, the shape of each syllable brushing his lips against Daigo's. This close, he could see the dilation of Daigo's pupils.
Daigo inhaled deeply and lifted his hand to press his fingers to Yoshitaka's jawline. "Only because it's you," he said, barely more than a whisper, and closed the hair's-breadth of space between them to take Yoshitaka's mouth again.
The tongue that had lapped over his cock was twisting with his, the lips that had wrapped so enthusiastically around it soft and giving against his, and a groan bubbled from Yoshitaka's throat as he tasted himself in the kiss. It was a struggle to pull away from it, but he succeeded after a long moment to study Daigo's heavy-lidded expression.
"Turn around," he commanded, gaze implacable in the face of the slight quirk of Daigo's reddened lips. The expected argument didn't manifest, though—Daigo simply shuffled around on his knees until his naked back faced Yoshitaka, his head tipped down slightly. The simple submission of it pulsed through Yoshitaka, sparking through his balls as he wrapped his hand around the base of his shaft and squeezed. "Beautiful."
He didn't realize he'd spoken aloud until Daigo chuckled and shifted, the forgotten buckle of his belt jangling slightly as it was jostled by his thigh. "I hope you're going to do more than admire."
Yoshitaka hummed his acknowledgment, then edged closer until he could press his lips to the holy fire that burned at the apex of Daigo's spine. He traced the flames with his tongue, delicately dragging the tip over Daigo's skin. When the trail led him to Daigo's shoulder, he bit down, hard enough to sting but not to mark, and slid an arm around Daigo to splay his hand over Daigo's chest, the better to feel the shudder when he ran his teeth across Daigo's shoulder until he could nuzzle the side of his neck.
"Yoshitaka," Daigo hissed, then laced his fingers through Yoshitaka's and dragged his hand to pluck at Daigo's stiff nipple. "Enough."
"You're right," Yoshitaka breathed against his ear, then nipped the lobe and inched back. "Hands on the floor, Chairman."
Daigo huffed. "Don't call me that." Still, he leaned forward until his palms were flat on the floor, the Fudo Myo-o on his back shifting enticingly as he stretched.
Yoshitaka traced the flames with a fingertip, as delicately as he had with his tongue. They were beautiful, dancing beneath his touch as Daigo rolled his shoulders, and Yoshitaka made a note to appreciate them more—next time.
He removed his hand grudgingly from Daigo's skin to instead grasp the waistband of his pants, still binding Daigo's thighs. He tugged up firmly, manhandling Daigo onto all fours with his ass in the air. If Daigo was bothered by the position, he didn't give any sign, just sighed softly and shifted to spread his knees as far as his pants would allow.
Yoshitaka smoothed a hand over Daigo's bare flank, exulting in the shudder that flowed under his palm, and shifted between Daigo's spread legs until he was close enough to rock his aching cock against Daigo's ass. The first contact of skin on skin brought out another groan, echoed by Daigo as Daigo pushed back into his heat.
"Don't tease," Daigo said, even as he rocked into Yoshitaka's unconscious thrust. "Go on."
"Daigo," Yoshitaka began, only to fall silent when Daigo twisted his head just enough to side-eye him, even the sliver of a glare enough to remind him of who they were. He couldn't help the slight lift of one corner of his mouth as he located the bottle of lube and retrieved it.
The pop of the top was loud in the pregnant silence, which held as Yoshitaka pumped some of the milky fluid onto his fingers, then set the bottle next to Daigo's knee. It wasn't until his slick fingers traced the crack of Daigo's ass that the silence was broken, as Daigo sucked in a sharp inhale and flinched slightly before he tensed. Yoshitaka couldn't help but chuckle as his other hand braced against Daigo's hip, steadying him as one fingertip skimmed over Daigo's puckered hole.
He chuckled again at the sharp "fuck" that dropped from Daigo's lips, but most of his attention was caught by the tight clench of Daigo's hole. It resisted the press of his finger, pulsing against it as Daigo apparently struggled between intent and execution, and Yoshitaka circled his fingers soothingly around it as he pressed a kiss to the small of Daigo's back. "Let go."
Daigo barked a laugh as he dropped to an elbow, shifting his weight to reach beneath himself and grab his dick. Yoshitaka watched the flex of Daigo's muscles as he stroked himself and nearly moaned again, catching it only at the last moment. "Daigo," he ground out instead, unable to move as he took in Daigo flexing his hips into his own grip—until Daigo side-eyed him again.
Spurred into action, Yoshitaka retrieved the lube and pumped a drizzle directly onto Daigo's hole. Ignoring Daigo's grunt and flinch, he circled his finger around the pucker one more time, then pressed determinedly. This time, slippery and soft as Daigo continued to stroke himself, Yoshitaka met little resistance, and soon his finger was buried within Daigo to the knuckle as Daigo's rim spasmed around the invading digit.
"You're so tight," he found himself saying as he pumped his finger experimentally, easing it most of the way from Daigo's body only to press firmly in again. "I won't wait long." He pressed in a second finger, stroking both along the walls of Daigo's channel as Daigo's breathing quickened. "I can't."
Daigo twisted his arm so he could drop his forehead against his forearm, his other arm moving over his dick with long strokes. "Then don't," he growled, back arching slightly to press his ass higher. "Do it."
Yoshitaka swallowed thickly, but could hardly disregard a direct order—even if he'd wanted to. Withdrawing his fingers and grabbing the bottle of lube, he pumped a generous dollop into his palm and smoothed it over his throbbing cock, then smeared still more over Daigo's hole. He dragged the head of his cock through the lube slicking Daigo's crack, unable to pull his eyes from the sight of Daigo bent before him, the black of the pants around his thighs a stark contrast to the paleness of his skin.
It was all he could do to wrap his hand around himself and guide the tip of his dick to Daigo's hole, holding it steady as he inhaled. He wanted to ask Daigo if he was sure, was afraid to do the same, and so remained silent as he steadied Daigo with a hand against his hip and pushed.
Daigo exhaled as Yoshitaka pressed forward, obviously fighting against the natural reaction to tense as Yoshitaka worked him open determinedly. They both groaned when the crown popped in, and Yoshitaka had to squeeze the base of his dick to keep from coming then and there. Daigo's sharp panting blended with Yoshitaka's uneven breathing as they both stilled, Yoshitaka struggling against the urge to simply take everything that Daigo was offering. As it was, the flutter of muscle tensing and relaxing around him was maddening, and his eyes slid shut briefly as he tried to catch his breath.
His eyes shot open again when Daigo shifted, rocking back slightly on Yoshitaka's cock. Another groan eased out under Daigo's breath, a soft sound that Yoshitaka took as encouragement as he bent slightly over Daigo's back and fucked him open, sliding ever deeper with short but implacable thrusts until he was seated fully within Daigo.
This was it—Yoshitaka could die now, because nothing would ever be better than this. Daigo was still panting, both forearms now braced on the carpet as he angled his hips, almost experimentally. The shift and resultant squeeze around his cock all but forced the air from Yoshitaka's lungs as he withdrew slightly, just enough to be able to embed himself again with a sharp thrust.
It wasn't the first time he'd done this—with a man, yes, but he'd slept with enough women open to the concept that he had no qualms about his skills—yet this was the first time he'd felt a connection beyond a mutual desire to get off. He wanted to do more than just make Daigo come—he wanted to make it good for him, so good it would bring him back for more, so good it would ruin him for any other lover. He wanted to stamp himself indelibly on Daigo, as much a part of him as the Fudo Myo-o that even now glared at him from Daigo's back.
Yoshitaka slowly pulled himself free of Daigo's clutching body, and chuckled at the sound Daigo made in protest. He pet Daigo's flank, then lined himself up and thrust sharply, not stopping until his balls slapped against Daigo's skin. Daigo's gasp was lost under Yoshitaka's moan, both men shuddering as Yoshitaka snapped his hips again, out and in—and it was perfect.
The rhythm Yoshitaka set after that could only be called punishing as both hands clasped Daigo's hips, as Yoshitaka took advantage of the extra leverage to yank Daigo to meet his thrusts each time. Daigo shifted again to bring a hand back to his dick, and the muscles in his arm flexed enticingly as he pulled himself as roughly as Yoshitaka fucked him, out of sequence with Yoshitaka's rhythm but no less intoxicating for it.
"Fuck, Yosh—" Daigo cut himself off with a low moan as he fucked his hand, fucked himself on Yoshitaka's cock, wanton in a way that Yoshitaka somehow hadn't expected but couldn't help but be enthralled by. Sweat streaked the colors covering his back and wet the hair at his nape as he moved, and Yoshitaka found himself fascinated by the way it highlighted the bunch and stretch of Daigo's muscles, the shudders that coursed through him.
Yoshitaka bit his lip as he bent over Daigo, enough to slide his hand from Daigo's hip to lace their fingers together around Daigo's cock, to add his efforts to Daigo's increasingly-frantic strokes. Within their grasp, Daigo's cock was silk over steel, the fluid pearling at his slit slicking the slide of his foreskin as their hands ran along his length.
It seemed to be no time at all before Daigo's head tilted forward, back arching as his cock swelled in their grip. He tightened around Yoshitaka's cock as he came, shooting over their hands, his belly, and Yoshitaka wished desperately that he could see Daigo's face even as his own balls tightened and he exploded within Daigo's ass, a broken groan ripping from his throat as he buried himself as far within Daigo as he could, hips pulsing in an attempt to force himself even deeper.
By the time he could breathe again, Daigo had started to edge away, shuffling on his knees until Yoshitaka slipped from within him. He exhaled shakily as Yoshitaka pulled free, and dropped his forehead to his forearm again, made no move to straighten or move beyond that, and Yoshitaka absently stroked his back as he stared at Daigo's stretched hole and his own cum leaking from it.
"Stay there," Yoshitaka murmured, then pushed himself to his feet and moved to retrieve the pocket square from his jacket. He unfolded the fabric as he returned to kneel behind Daigo again, only to pause as the sight that greeted him caught his attention again.
Daigo flinched slightly at the press of Yoshitaka's thumb, only to inhale sharply a moment later when it moved, massaging the milky fluid into Daigo's skin. "Yoshitaka," he groaned, even as his hips rocked back into the pressure as though seeking more of it.
"Daigo," Yoshitaka said, then chuckled, low and rough. "You're so damned beautiful like this." He carefully wiped cum and lube from Daigo's crack with a corner of the pocket square, then tapped Daigo's hip to coax him onto his back.
It was an awkward untangling of limbs still constrained by disheveled pants before Daigo flopped on his back on the floor, quiet as Yoshitaka wiped the cum from his hand, then ran it over his softening cock and heaving belly. He remained silent even as Yoshitaka bent over him to claim a lingering kiss. Its tenderness was disconcerting, but anything more felt... wrong. Daigo had given him a precious gift, and Yoshitaka wasn't so far gone that he didn't appreciate it, didn't recognize its value.
Suddenly uncomfortable, Yoshitaka straightened and turned his attention to his own dick, wiping it clean before tossing the soiled pocket square aside. He pulled his pants back into place, buckled his belt with jerky motions and moved to stand, only to be stymied by the hand at his cheek.
Daigo's gaze was far too soft for a man in his position—a sign of weakness that he couldn't afford—but Yoshitaka couldn't help falling into it. "Don't," Daigo said and, before Yoshitaka could do more than blink in confusion, pressed his lips against Yoshitaka's again, a sweet taste that Yoshitaka was certain he'd never get enough of.
"We should straighten up," Yoshitaka murmured against Daigo's mouth, and this time Daigo didn't stop him as he stood, merely rose to his own feet and set about tucking himself back into his pants. It sent a pang of regret through Yoshitaka, one that he distracted himself from by retrieving his shirt and shrugging into it. He turned away as he set about buttoning it up, but paused when Daigo's palm pressed between his shoulder blades.
"This doesn't have to change anything if you don't want it to, Yoshitaka."
Yoshitaka leaned into the pressure despite himself, then stepped away. "I don't know what I want," he muttered, then exhaled heavily as he realized his lie. "I don't want us to change," he amended, then stepped away as he finished his buttons and tucked the shirt into his pants. I don't want to lose you was caught behind his teeth.
"Mm." Daigo thankfully let it drop, and Yoshitaka could hear the faint sounds as he moved around to retrieve his own discarded clothes. The rustle of fabric as he pulled on his ruined shirt, the soft huff of laughter as he no doubt gave up on making it presentable, the burr of heavy silk against itself as he knotted his tie—Yoshitaka could picture them clearly despite not daring to turn around.
"I suppose our business will wait." When Yoshitaka gathered himself enough to face Daigo again, Daigo had mostly repaired his appearance; between the cinch of his tie and the cover of the jacket he was buttoning, most of the damage to his shirt was masked, and Yoshitaka had the sudden urge to rip them off again so he could admire his handiwork one last time.
Daigo nodded, then moved to the sofa to retrieve Yoshitaka's jacket from where it had landed over the back. He held it up for Yoshitaka to don and Yoshitaka swallowed thickly at the thoughtless intimacy of the gesture even as he slid one arm into it, then the other. He held his breath when Daigo's hands smoothed over his shoulders, and told himself he only imagined a soft brush of lips over the back of his neck. He focused instead on buttoning his jacket.
Only when his clothes were back in proper order did Yoshitaka turn to face Daigo, who watched him now with an inscrutable expression. "Can you make time tomorrow?" he asked as his gaze drifted to Daigo's desk, bare but for the papers he'd been bent over when Yoshitaka had arrived.
Daigo nodded again, then lifted one hand to smooth Yoshitaka's hair behind his ear, slowly, as if afraid he might bolt—not entirely without reason, Yoshitaka thought. He felt strangely too large for his skin, as though every part of him was swelling far beyond what his flesh could contain. "I'll call," Daigo said at last, then stepped back, bent to retrieve Yoshitaka's discarded pocket square and the bottle of lube,and tucked the former into his pocket.
"I'll be available." Yoshitaka stepped cautiously past him to grab the briefcase he'd abandoned before Daigo's desk, then backed toward the seating area. "Whenever you need me."
Daigo's answering smile was wry, a small quirk of his lips as he motioned for Yoshitaka to go, then circled his desk to drop into the chair behind it—with a faint wince, Yoshitaka noticed with an unbidden swell of pride. Yoshitaka watched until Daigo had tucked the lube away in a drawer again, then tilted his head in deference and turned to leave.
It wasn't until the door was closed behind him that Yoshitaka inhaled deeply. He hesitated for a moment, fighting the urge to go back in and insist that Daigo let him help, before he resigned himself to leaving the matter for the evening.
The Okinawa deal was the heart of it all, he thought, of everything that was bothering Daigo, everything that had pushed him into his actions tonight. Yoshitaka would do whatever it took to make it work, whatever it took to make sure that look of despair never again touched Daigo's face.
Whether Daigo wanted it or not, Yoshitaka would do what he was best at—what was best for Daigo—without regrets.