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“Let me tell you exactly how this is going to work.”
Kojio reclines in his seat, swirling the ice in his empty soda glass. Beside him, the electric kettle sputters as the water warms.
Kaoru stands with his back to him, looking at a framed photograph of twenty-year-old Kojiro taken in Italy, and Kojiro can tell he’s scowling from his voice alone.
“You are going to remove your puny ransomware,” Kaoru says into Kojiro’s office landline, “and you’re going to do it today.”
He doesn’t growl, he doesn’t shout, but his tone sends a chill down Kojiro’s spine just the same.
The voice is a stark contrast to the man standing before him with one hip cocked, his pink braid cascading down the back of his yukata, his thin finger twisted delicately in the phone cord.
The person on the other end says something that makes Kaoru scoff.
“I don’t think you grasp the reality of your situation,” he responds. “I have about forty screengrabs with timestamps of your IP address accessing the restaurant’s transaction system.”
Another pause as the other end speaks. Kaoru turns, giving Kojiro a nice view of his profile.
“Yes, I can prove it was you,” Kaoru squints at the print-out he’s grasping in his other hand, “Brent Kirigaya from Oakfield, Vermont. The restaurant’s cybersecurity may not have been airtight—”
Kaoru turns around then, gold eyes blazing, and Kojiro busies himself stuffing tea leaves in the strainer.
“—but your own encryption wasn’t much better.”
The kettle reaches temperature and shuts itself off with a click. Kojiro puts the strainer in the teapot and ventures a glance at Kaoru, who is busy calmly tearing the scammer a new one.
“I’ll give you two hours to remove all traces of yourself from the restaurant’s system. If there’s even a speck of you left after that, I’m turning everything over to your government. Look up the prison sentence for international cybercrimes. I will be monitoring your address for the foreseeable future. Find a different hobby.”
Kaoru sets the handset firmly on the hook. He sits down across the table.
Kojiro fills the teapot and sets the kettle back on its base.
Kaoru huffs. “Give me that,” he says, snatching the handle of the teapot before Kojiro can. “One would think a trained chef would know how to properly make tea.”
He splits the tea back and forth between the cups in smooth strokes.
Kojiro smiles, taking in the loose tendrils of pink that hang around his face.
Kaoru notices him and scowls beautifully. The late evening sun through the window beside them glares off the square frames of his glasses, and Kojiro lets himself be blinded.
“This is what you get for not letting me vet your financial systems,” Kaoru scolds, bringing the cup to his lips.
Kojiro’s mesmerized by the curl of his lip around the cup’s rim. He watches Kaoru’s throat bob as he swallows and suddenly, he’s starving.
“My mistake,” he says. “Thank you.”
That earns him an eye roll.
“You’re lucky it was just a stupid teenager. Somebody else could have put Sia out of business.”
Kojiro gasps, hand to his chest. “But then where would you go to drink your weight in white wine?”
“I’ll call that child and tell him to ransom you again. I’ll ransom you myself, you ungrateful ape.”
“Promise?” he asks with a grin. At Kaoru’s scowl, he adds, “Thank you.”
“Whatever. I’m building you a new system. A secure system. I won’t hear any arguments.”
“And you may have as much white wine as you’d like as a thank you. I’ve got an eighty-dollar Pinot Grigio with your name on it.”
Kojiro will give him anything he asks for, actually. He’ll find a way to bring the moon down to earth if that’s what Kaoru wants.
Kaoru eyes him over his teacup. “I’ll have the two hundred dollar bottle I saw in the storeroom the other day.”
Kojiro laughs at the evil sparkle in Kaoru’s eyes.
He can’t even scratch the surface of Kaoru’s quiet intelligence, the level of profound genius hidden beneath the cool exterior he shows the world.
The love of Kojiro’s life is worlds smarter than he is, and that’s one of the things he loves most about him.
“Fuck, I’m—I can’t—”
Kaoru’s hair is a mess of pink against the sheets. All the pillows have long since been shoved to the floor.
“K’jiro, please—”
The strands plastered against his forehead and the one stuck beside his mouth are a few shades darker from sweat and saliva.
He writhes, eyes screwed shut and chest stuttering as it bows off the mattress, and Kojiro wants to devour him like this.
“What is it, baby?” he purrs. “Too much?”
The nod is urgent, but neither the signal nor the word that would end it come. If anything, Kojiro feels him rocking his hips to meet every thrust.
He grins. Leans in, pushing the wrists trapped in each hand hard against the bed. “I think,” he says into Kaoru’s open mouth, “you can take it.”
Kaoru keens when the weight pushes him further.
“Can’t,” he insists, but he spreads his legs a little more, sending Kojiro deeper.
“You can, Kaoru,” he says, rearing back and snapping his hips, earning a hoarse cry. “You will.”
He pulls out till just his tip is breaching him, then yanks on Kaoru’s wrists, spearing him hard on his cock.
Kaoru wails, thrashing, and Kojiro does it again, pushing and pulling till his arms burn.
The moisture that gathered in Kaoru’s eyelashes around his second orgasm streaks down his face now as he sobs.
Kojiro wants to lean forward and lick the tears, taste how salty they must be, but he wants to watch Kaoru buck and tremble from this high vantage point even more.
“So pitiful,” he coos. “Does it feel that good, baby?”
This makes Kaoru cry harder and flutter almost painfully around his cock.
“Fuck, so pretty like this,” Kojiro moans, driving harder, push-pulling faster. “Give me one more.”
Kaoru spouts incoherent syllables, shaking his head in a slow, brainless way that makes Kojiro’s balls tighten.
He rakes his eyes down Kaoru’s body.
Kaoru’s neglected cock is an angry red, bobbing hard and shiny between them.
Kojiro hasn’t touched it at all and even still it’s leaking, clear fluid dribbling over the tip each time he bottoms out.
“You’re getting yourself all wet, Kaoru,” he tuts, breathless at the sight. “You want it that bad?”
Kaoru’s cries have gone softer. They come from the back of his throat, unintentional sounds echoing from the heady place he’s descended to.
Kojiro can feel him dangling on the edge.
He pulls Kaoru taught against him by his wrists, punching a pathetic noise from him, and he grinds. Hard.
“Come,” he commands. Kaoru obeys with a pained whine, muscles convulsing and a few weak spurts of cum dripping out him before he falls lax.
Kojiro grits his teeth at the clench against his still-hard cock, releasing his wrists before gingerly leaning forward to sip the tears from his face.
Satisfied, he plants his hands on either side of Kaoru’s prone form to pull out, only for shaky hands to wrap around his waist and stop him.
“In me,” Kaoru whispers. His eyes are shut and his voice is shredded.
Kojiro shuts his own eyes, the command shaking a groan out of his chest. He starts the slow slide out and grimaces at the feeling of Kaoru’s heat holding fast around him.
And Kaoru shifts without warning, feebly rocking his hips, little noises falling from his lips.
Kojiro grabs his hip to still him. “You’ll hurt yourself. Stop it.”
Kaoru whines but Kojiro continues to pull out.
He stops with just the tip in. It’s his tribute to Kaoru’s desires when he jacks himself harshly with his own hand and just that part of him still wrapped in Kaoru’s body.
The pleasure he’d been ignoring swarms the base of his spine and sparks up and out across his limbs, sending him flinching concave around Kaoru’s body as his orgasm races towards him.
He’s tumbling off the edge when Kaoru, in a freak demonstration of strength, pushes himself back down on his cock in one fell swoop, ass flush to Kojiro’s thighs.
Kojiro sees stars, unable to stop the harsh thrusts that leave Kaoru sobbing as he rides out the wave.
When he can think again, he leans up enough to see Kaoru’s face is slack, his eyes shut peacefully.
He pulls out, but Kaoru doesn’t stir.
He swipes his thumb through the cum spilling out of Kaoru’s hole, and even when he brushes Kaoru’s abused rim, he sees no movement.
He tries to calm his own breathing as he rolls Kaoru onto his side and lays down in front of him, crowding closer till he can feel his breath fan across his face.
“Kaoru,” he whispers.
Nothing.
“Kaoru,” he repeats, voice startlingly loud. Kaoru’s eyelashes flicker. “Open your eyes.”
When Kaoru finally cracks his eyes open, Kojiro’s met with a hazy glare. He watches his pupils blow wide, eating up the gold of his irises as Kaoru works through the fog that’s clearly still heavy in his mind.
“Oh, you’re gone,” Kojiro marvels and Kaoru shuts his eyes again.
Kojiro smiles at the serenity coating his features and gathers Kaoru against him gently. “I got you,” he mutters into sweaty pink hair. Content, he holds him and waits for that beautiful intelligence to return.