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Goro Akechi never foresaw a life for himself where he might have a real career, built on more than lies. He never believed he would make it to his nineteenth birthday. He never envisioned a future beyond the downfall of Masayoshi Shido, because he never expected to survive it. He knew success and failure alike were bound to end with his demise.
He absolutely never imagined he would have a home—though he may have dared to yearn for one, in late nights spent wide awake in bed, staring at a blank wall and wishing he were someone who deserved it.
He was never meant to have a normal life. And yet here he was, closer to thirty than twenty and leading an almost sickeningly normal life for someone who spent years hell-bent on vengeance, only to be denied it and told to start fresh. To redefine his entire existence. To find new goals in a world he was never meant to inhabit.
Most of all, he never imagined home would be Ren Amamiya. It wasn’t supposed to be.
But even shrinks with god complexes can’t predict every future, and against all odds, they’re here, quarreling in Goro’s Shinjuku office, where he’s slept at least two nights a week for the past six months. A quarrel, because Ren dared to complain about Goro’s demanding schedule. “A schedule,” Goro scathingly reminds him, “that’s key to making the jump from junior associate to mid-level.”
Goro likes that Ren is not a clingy lover. He doesn’t need Goro to be his everything, which is good because Goro can’t and frankly doesn’t want to be Ren’s partner and his rival and his best friend and his “gym buddy” or whatever other boxes the rest of those people manage to tick.
So for Ren to show up at Goro’s office at ten till five, begging Goro to clock out so they can eat, fuck, and fall asleep together for probably the first time since he took this miserable job—is unusual. Unprecedented. Annoying. But even Goro Akechi’s icy heart trembles when Ren rushes him with a tight embrace, brushing his soft mouth against Goro’s cheek and ghosting a sweet plea over his ear: “I won’t leave here without you.”
He’s trapped against his desk, between Ren’s arms and a neat stack of client folders. The edge of it is cutting into the backs of his thighs, putting creases in the ass-end of his carefully ironed slacks.
Perhaps fretting over the state of his work pants—while his boyfriend is begging to be his priority again, for just one night—is the problem.
Goro leans in close but withholds the kiss, because he’s a tease and relishes the thought of sending Ren away, weak in the knees and hiding his erection like a horny high schooler—
But also because this is where he works, and his door doesn’t lock.
“Go home.” Goro’s words drift warm over Ren’s lips. Ren’s hands find Goro’s body, winding in his tawny hair and slipping down his firm ass. “Make me dinner.”
“Will you actually be home in time to eat it, though?” Ren asks, pressing their foreheads together.
There’s a yearning in his voice. It’s sincere, it’s heartfelt, it’s kind of sad and it makes Goro feel like shit. But Ren’s at fault for believing Goro would make a reasonable lover.
Ren’s not to blame for Goro’s ninety-hour weeks, though. Nor is Goro’s boss, worthless trash that he is, because when he barks orders, Goro obeys. Despite swearing to himself and Ren that he’d never live under someone’s thumb ever again. Despite what it’s costing him.
It’s Goro’s fault, for always chasing his next victory instead of stopping to smell the roses. Especially when the roses so often smell of coffee, curry, and that leathery cologne Ren’s worn since high school.
“Do you think I like missing dinner?” Goro’s scowling now, wringing himself out of Ren’s grasp and back into his desk chair. “Do you think I enjoy sleeping under my desk? Do you think I like having to grovel for a chance to move up? That I’d rather be here—here, busting my ass for yet another pathetic, incompetent, ungrateful fool—than at home with you?”
Ren leans down again and brushes a stray lock of hair out of Goro’s face. In moments like these, he’s impossible to read. A blank slate in the face of anger or pain or turmoil.
“I’m not sleeping alone tonight,” Ren says finally. Like it’s a threat. From a lesser man, it might be.
Goro gives him a flat look. “What, you want to sleep here? Fuck me on this disgusting floor? Like we’re kids again, jerking off in a crusty attic?”
Ren shrugs. Goro Akechi and his shitty attitude don’t intimidate him, and Goro knows it. It’s one of his favorite things about Ren.
“I’d fuck you just about anywhere you’d let me.”
Corny. Disgusting. And Goro’s heart actually skips a beat. He tries not to let it show on his face. “I suppose it has been a while since we last had sex.”
He says it like he doesn’t know exactly how many days it’s been since they last fucked, like for real dirty fucked. Lazy handies at bedtime don’t count.
It was a Sunday morning. Goro let Ren hit it raw, and Ren was called in to a shift at Crossroads before he could return the favor. But that didn’t stop Goro from spending the rest of his precious day off in bed, splitting his time between various novels and edging to his favorite rotation of gay porn clips and a robust collection of Ren’s nudes.
Then he came all over the sheets, and ignored Morgana’s nosy questions about why he was washing the bedding for a second time that weekend.
It was eighty-five days ago.
“That was when I had to open Crossroads for drag brunch, right?” Ren says. A tiny smile tugs at the corner of his mouth. “I didn’t get to finish you off.”
“I took care of it myself,” Goro says casually.
“You were asleep by the time I got home that night.” Ren leans in and presses his hand to Goro’s chest, running a thumb over his shirt and feeling his nipple tense. “I wanted to return the favor.”
Goro’s breath hitches as Ren rubs the fabric of his shirt over his chest. He’s close again, hunched over Goro and casting a shadow on him as the sun sinks below the horizon, blanketing Tokyo in evening twilight.
“Too bad,” Goro says. Ren’s hand is unbuttoning his shirt, wandering over his chest until his fingers find Goro’s tits. He pinches a nipple, sending a tiny shock through Goro’s nerves and straight to his groin. “I spent all afternoon making myself cum. Without you. I had to rewash the sheets.”
“Funny,” Ren murmurs. He’s sinking to his knees now, taking the last of Goro’s shirt buttons down with him. “That’s what I do when you’re gone, too.”
They’re interrupted by the telltale sounds of end-of-day. Hurried footsteps outside Goro’s door. Arguments over where to grab beers. Men on the phone with their wives, lying about overtime.
Fuck it. Goro snakes a hand through Ren’s wild mop of hair and grips it tight, yanking him forward and pressing Ren’s face against his groin. Ren licks shamelessly at his khakis, leaving a wet spot where they’re pulled taut over his dick.
Goro bites back a groan; these walls are thin. Sometimes he hears after-hours moans, when the secretary gets her pussy railed by the very pushing-fifty, very married senior associate next door. Maybe he’s told her he loves her and that he’s planning to leave his wife, but only lets her text him after eleven o’clock. Maybe she’ll end up pregnant and alone.
“Do you think about me when you do it?” Goro asks silkily.
He knows Ren does, but he never tires of hearing it. And Ren’s too busy getting into his pants and tugging his cute boxer briefs beneath his balls to answer. Instead he offers his face to Goro, who lovingly cups it and parts Ren’s mouth with his thumb. Ren nuzzles Goro’s fingers with tender approval, and Goro grunts as he eases himself inside, past Ren’s plump lips and dangerous teeth, until he feels his cock grinding against the soft, hot meat of Ren’s throat.
“Well, do you?” Goro asks again, with a jerk of his hips.
This time, Ren answers, though it’s unintelligible while he’s gagged with dick. Goro pulls Ren back by his hair, dragging him down his length until his throat-wet cock is hit with chilly office air.
“Sometimes,” Ren repeats, drool leaking from the corners of his mouth as he fixes Goro with a heavy-lidded stare. He’s at his most stunning like this, eager to please and to reduce Goro to a puddle before giving it back tenfold.
Those gorgeous dark eyes could kill Goro a third time. Ren strokes him with a tight fist and smiles.
Goro covers his face with his arm and leans back in his chair, flushed and throbbing. “I bet you save every picture I’ve ever sent you,” Goro says, trying to regain his composure and dignity.
Ren nods, still squeezing, still trying to wring him out. His smile cracks into something a bit more sinister, until it’s no longer Ren’s smile but Joker’s grin. With his thumb massaging into the leaking tip of Goro’s dick, he says: “You don’t want to know which one I cum to the most.”
Goro wants to know so fucking bad. Ren’s hand tears a moan out of him, maybe loud enough for the guy next door to get a taste of his own filthy medicine. “Fuck. I do, actually. Are you going to show me?”
That Joker grin doesn’t waver. Suddenly he’s gently pulling the elastic of Goro’s undies back over his dick, and rising from his knees. And oh, does Goro never tire of the sight of Ren’s unfairly huge cock bulging in his jeans, nor the way Ren unbuckles his belt and hikes his pants down just enough to free himself. God, he’s starving for it.
“Sure,” Ren says noncommittally. He glances over at the floor-to-ceiling window. The darkness of evening is punctured with the city’s countless dots of light. “Do me a favor first. Go over there and put your hands up on the glass.”
Goro snorts unattractively. “With my fucking dick out for the whole goddamn city to see?”
“No one will see now that it’s dark,” Ren says easily. “You’ll have a nice view while I fuck you.”
If Goro were corny, if he were sweet like Ren, he might say he prefers the views of Ren’s gaping stupid O-face while he’s busting inside him. But he’s not either of those things, so he just rolls his eyes before rising from his chair, shaking off his slacks and loafers, and wandering to the office window in just his boxer briefs, opened shirt, and loosened necktie.
The city is beautiful from the twentieth floor, but less so when he’s trapped up here instead of down there living it.
Goro’s palms shiver as he flattens them against cold glass. Behind him, Ren is squeezing a little pocket packet of lube onto his cock. Goro is dizzied realizing Ren brought it with him, came prepared, maybe planned to fuck him here or in a hotel or in some dingy alley but certainly didn’t intend to wait until they were home.
And then Ren’s arms sweep him into an almost tender hug from behind, his chin at rest on Goro’s shoulder. It’s calming. In a warm embrace, Goro almost forgets that anyone in a nearby building could look out at the burgeoning twilight and see him in his underwear about to get fucked against his office window. Almost.
Until Ren’s hand drifts down Goro’s belly, slipping beneath the elastic waistband of his undies to siphon away the last of Goro’s unease with a taut grip. Suddenly, what anyone can or can’t see doesn’t matter; their Tokyo is a city of two.
Goro’s moans leave a warm fog on the window, and Ren tugs the back of his undies down too, enough to tuck the waistband under his ass. He squirms as Ren’s fingers stroke down his cleft, parting it just enough to expose him.
“I know it’s been awhile,” Ren murmurs against the back of his neck. The head of his slicked cock presses against Goro’s asshole, begging to be let inside. “You’re probably pretty tight.”
“Fuck me and find out,” Goro growls, and Ren doesn’t need to be told twice. He pushes inside, past the initial tension until he’s buried, balls deep.
The noise that escapes Goro as Ren’s cock fills him is... new. Somewhere between a moan and a shout. Maybe it’s because they’re breaking the longest dry spell they’ve had in years, maybe it’s because they’re in love and fucking like they aren’t. But as Ren grips Goro’s hips and thrusts, Goro’s fingers curl against the window, smudging them with sweat.
“Want you to cum when I do,” Ren gasps, pounding harder with each rock of his hips.
Goro nods and strokes himself in time with each of Ren’s thrusts, pleasure building inside him like a pipe about to burst.
“Cum on me, Ren. Make a fucking mess,” he hisses, stripping his throbbing dick as Ren fucks him harder, harder, grips his hips so hard his fingers will leave marks—
Ren pulls out just in time, and with just a few violent jerks of his fist, he tips over the edge, gracelessly, busting hard on Goro’s ass and lower back with a guttural groan. The warm familiar mess painting Goro’s skin draws out his own dramatic climax. Ren takes over, milking him through the aftershocks, until he’s spent.
Goro’s cum is splattered on the window, dripping down in thick translucent streaks. Kind of hot, but also fucking disgusting. Ren can clean it up.
Their pants eventually find their way back to their bodies. They lay on the floor of Goro’s office for what feels like ages, staring down at the city, pointing fingers in all directions and saying things like “remember when...” and “that’s where we...”. It’s nice to talk after sex, instead of doomscrolling themselves to sleep before facing another tomorrow of the extremely normal life they were never meant to have.
Home, Goro Akechi thinks, can be anywhere. Home is here. Home is where we are.
“Ah, right. I almost forgot.” Goro’s face suddenly twists into a smug smirk as he recalls their sex-addled banter. He’s propped up on his elbows, loose and happy, basking in the post-nut high and his boyfriend’s incandescent, furiously irresistible glow. “Are you going to show me that picture?”