Disclaimer: Matsuri Akino owns Petshop of Horrors and I will have to personally hunt and kidnap her if she doesn't bring the Detective back T^T
I look at you across our table from the rim of my wine glass. You seem oblivious to my extended study of the column of your pale white throat; your raven hair, mulberry lips and long lashes now fluttering in delight at the profiterole you are devouring with single-minded abandon. Delicately, you lick the cream from the tines of the fork and I feel heat stirring in my groin. It is a welcome if uncomfortable distraction.
You finally spare me a glance after wiping the plate clean. "Dinner was excellent. I must thank you for your generosity, Taizu."
I set down my glass and nod. Generous? I am a cold-hearted businessman, Count, and generosity is not in my vocabulary. In my world, everything is a transaction. Each bargain comes at a price.
Why do you think I invited you to dinner in this exclusive French restaurant? The truth may shock you – when your smirk and your smile and the way your body moves beneath the silk continuously haunt my dreams, when even Kabukichou's most skilled and beautiful whores have ceased to satisfy – I decided it was time to take matters into my own hands. I am a man of the world, Count D. What I want, I take.
I pay for the meal and stand up to leave. "We're continuing this someplace else," I say.
I catch the surprise in the look you give me before it breaks down into a cool and even expression. You say nothing as we head for the waiting limousine.
You remain silent as we ride the elevator to the 38th floor, your eyes fixed to an unfathomable point in the night skyline of the city whizzing past the clear walls. We walk the carpeted corridor and I stop at one of the doors to insert the key card into the slot. I usher you in; the door automatically locks itself behind me with a soft click.
We stand facing each other. You wear a mask of calm and indifference, as though the room was the Pet Shop and I was one of your customers. But this is not the Pet Shop. The time of playing is over.
I loosen my tie. "After walking into this room with me, Count D, surely I don't have to explain what happens next?"
You take your time answering. Your body is poised for casual conversation, as if we were merely talking about the weather. And then you nod. I release a breath I didn't know I held.
"I must admit, however, that this is rather…unexpected." You start undoing buttons. "I was not aware of your interest until now."
My breath hitches as the shadow of a collarbone and more of that pale throat is exposed to view. I could scarcely believe my eyes and ears. But, my excitement and the heat slowly pooling in my groin are not enough to suppress my naturally suspicious nature.
"You do realize my intentions tonight?" I gesture at the four poster bed in the middle of the room.
"You wish to have sex with me. Or am I mistaken?" Your lift a brow, your fingers suspended from their task of unbuttoning.
Good. You do understand. Forgive me. I did not expect you to give in to my advances so easily. But maybe this is all for the best. I am not sure what I would do if you refused. Your acquiescence means my secretary can sleep soundly tonight without having to worry about collateral damages.
"You are not." I stride across the room but before I could touch, you hold out your palm to stop me.
"I accept your proposal, Taizu, but with a few caveats. First, understand that any relationship between us will be purely physical. Second, you will honor my wish to stop at any time I see fit. Third, you may touch my body but you are not allowed to touch or kiss me on the mouth. Do you agree?"
I know what you are offering: a night with no strings attached and a relationship you can leave any time. We are of the same mind then. I also prefer a casual relationship. But to be denied a taste of those mocking red lips – a most unfortunate but necessary concession. Perhaps I can convince you to reconsider some other time.
I close the gap and swoop down to devour that taunting milk-white throat. I hear your sharp intake of breath as I suck on the skin of your neck. Your soft sighs send shivers coursing through my loins.
Vaguely I wonder at how little persuasion it took to make you mine. But my growing need pushes all thought away.
My fingers work their way through the remaining buttons of your cheongsam even as my lips continue sucking every inch of newly exposed skin. Your robe falls to the floor in a soft patter of silk leaving you exposed save for your undergarment. I delight in what I see beneath the layers of patterned cloth. Your body is ethereal, flawless. Your shoulders are perfection against your slight frame, your abdomen smooth and flat, your smooth thighs adorning dainty ankles enclosed in slippers of silk brocade. Even the absence of breasts, a feature I value highly in the females of Kabukichou, does not detract from your perfection.
I can no longer stand tormenting myself. I scoop you up and bring you to the bed. You slip out of your shoes and I see that your toes match the paint on your fingernails; a midnight blue it is almost black, a stark contrast to the pale cream of your feet.
I continue exploring the expanse of your throat and chest, touching, sucking, tugging, licking, until the sound of your breath is so harsh and ragged you may as well be running a marathon. I pull away to divest myself of my clothes, but my eyes never leave you. Your eyes are glazed and unfocused, your cheeks flushed, the strain of arousal all too obvious beneath the confines of your underwear. I allow myself a private smile of victory. You want this as much as I do, Count D.
Naked now, I return to my previous occupation of sucking your shoulder while my hands roam lower, soothing circles on your heated flesh. My fingers catch on the waistband of your underwear, and I hastily tug it away. A soft gasp escapes your lips as I cup your erection, its firmness and burning warmth in my hand mirroring my own need. I gently rub the tip glistening with precome which elicits another gasp, heightening my own arousal. You close your eyes as my entire hand envelopes your cock and begins rubbing down its length in an even rhythm.
I stop then, and your eyes fly open. You follow my hand as I reach for the nightstand and open the drawer. I take out a tube of lubricant and unscrew the cap, momentarily looking away as I spread the contents generously over my erection. Then I extend a slick finger to the base of your cock and trace a line down. You seem to understand and spread your legs wider. My finger finds your hole and slips gently inside. I slip in another, marvelling at the tight heat spreading from my fingers, to my arm, my shoulder and chest, all the way to my groin. My manhood aches in anticipation of taking the place of my fingers and experiencing the warm channel for itself.
I lift up your hips and position myself over you, then slide myself in with one smooth motion.
I hear a stifled cry and lift up my face to search for any sign of protest, but your eyes are tightly shut. I adjust my angle slightly and push deeper. Your nails leave shallow gashes on the bed sheet as your hands clench the fabric. The exquisite heat enveloping my cock almost threatens to undo me so I stay still, breathing deep to focus my mind.
I start moving, slowly. Your lips part open, tempting me, and I almost fall to the temptation before being chastised by the reminder of our agreement. A few shallow thrusts then I withdraw, almost to the tip, then pound slow and deep. Quick and shallow, then languid and deep. I feel a multitude of sensations course through my veins as I continue this uneven rhythm, your inner muscles wrapping around my cock in a tight, wet heat that refuses to let go as if it were a vortex. My vision hazes by degrees, as the world is reduced to your writhing body and the tightness gripping my cock. You arch your back as I continue this primitive dance, chasing that sublime ecstasy I could almost reach with my fingertips.
I grab your neglected erection in my hand and pump you in the same rhythm I drive you from within. You gasp and your face contorts as if you were suffering from unspeakable agony.
"Aa—aaa—" you cry out with a sharp outtake of breath as your seed spills between us. Your insides squeeze my cock and I manage one last vicious thrust before my own orgasm overtakes me and I collapse, shuddering, on your slight frame.
We lie sprawled and tangled on the bed while the room gradually swims back into focus. Your eyes are still closed when I finally withdraw. I pretend that you are dreaming and bend to kiss your cheek, but you turn away, as though the sight of me disgusts you even through your closed eyelids.
Later, I suggest staying the night at the hotel but you insist on going back to the Pet Shop. I walk you to the entrance of your home. "Thank you for this evening, Taizu," you say as you close the door.
I am left wondering if your night with me had been unpleasant. But you accept my next invitation for dinner, and once again I find myself ravishing you in the confines of another five-star Tokyo hotel. Your flesh tastes sweeter than I remember. You give yourself to me readily and we end up finishing on the floor in our excitement and haste. But still you close your eyes throughout the act and refuse to let me kiss you.
You never refuse my invitations. You become bolder; many mornings I find myself with long scratches on my arms and back. My mastery of your body increases as the weeks pass by. I explore each nook and crevice, coaxing your body to reveal its secrets until I know it as intimately as I know my name. I know your most sensitive areas – a kiss and a nip at the juncture of your neck and shoulder induces a full-body shiver. I am thrilled to find that you are adventurous in your choice of positions. Against the wall, on the desk, or in the bathtub, I have yet to try one that has caused you displeasure. You like it best when I thrust into you long and hard and deep.
It has become routine now, this association of ours. My secretary keeps a continuous supply of fresh roses to go with the invitation card. We never have dinner at the same restaurant or sleep at the same hotel twice. When the selection of suitable hotels in Tokyo is running low, I consider taking you to the nearest prefecture – Saitama or Chiba maybe.
And yet you continue to shut your eyes and lock your lips from me. You are also unusually quiet. At first I thought it was just your shyness that keeps you from shouting out your pleasure, but we are now past such trivial things as embarrassment. The only sounds you allow to escape are soft pants and stifled gasps, and you prefer to bite your lip than to call out my name.
What do you see behind those eyelids?
"Open your eyes," I command you once in the heat of passion. You obey, your eyes fluttering open, but your mismatched gaze is fixed to an undetermined point in the ceiling. I grab your face in my hands and shout "Look at me!" Your glazed eyes, mere inches from my own, stare back. But I know they are indifferent and see nothing. I vent my frustration by thrusting more vigorously until I earn a high-pitched whimper from you.
On our next rendezvous I attempt to break your third rule, consequences be damned. After all, how can you see what I am about to do when you keep your eyes closed? But you always seem to know when my lips are near even when I am careful to give no indication. My plan to surprise you into kissing me backfires repeatedly until you finally open your eyes and look at me with unconcealed anger.
"Do I need to remind you, Taizu, not to touch my lips?"
"I was hoping you might reconsider that rule."
"You entered into this agreement knowing the terms full well."
"Yes, and I would like them to change."
"The agreement stays, Taizu. You may take it or leave it."
I grit my teeth and try to control my own anger. I am an underground mafia lord who can bend government legislation with the flick of a finger. And yet I find it difficult to bend the will of one Count D.
"Very well. The rule stays," I concede. I relent now, but I am merely saving the fight for another day.
Once or twice in the rare instances I could convince you to stay the night, I hear you murmur in your sleep.
You call out so softly I strain to hear even in the perfect quiet of the room.
I get up from the bed and escape to the balcony for a smoke. The silence of the room has become much too loud.
I expect my fascination with you to fade once the novelty of sex had worn off, yet each encounter only fuels my desire for more. I no longer bother to visit the brothels of Shinjuku nowadays. Man or woman, no one can compare to your allure.
Delightful though your body is, I long for more – much more. It is petty of you to elude my kisses and shut out your eyes and voice. I yearn for the day you will yield yourself to me completely.
You are a complex creature, Count D. An unfathomable butterfly; teasing, ever-fleeting and out of reach. And for me to catch you in my net, I have to resort to more devious ways.
We eat dinner at a classy Japanese bar-restaurant, or izakaya as the Japanese call them. I take advantage of your weakness for sugar by plying you with sweetened cocktails. You happily drink the strawberry cream cassis, unwittingly falling into my trap with every sip. When your eyes are sufficiently glassy, we leave the bar and head for the hotel.
You are in no state to undo the buttons of your cheongsam so I unbutton them and relieve you from the constraints of your clothing. Your entire body is flush from alcohol. I devour your neck hungrily and you let out a long, low moan.
I kiss and lick down the length of your chest and abdomen while my hands busy themselves playing with your testicles.
My plan is working. The alcohol has loosened your tongue. You are much more responsive than usual. I slip two slick fingers inside.
My lips curve into a smile against your skin. Tonight, Count D, you shall be completely and utterly mine.
I cup your cheek. "Look at me. I forbid you to close your eyes." You gaze back, eyes hooded with pleasure. "Good," I say, and reward you with a swift thrust of the hip.
"Oooohhhh…" you gasp.
Your moans are music to my ears. "Yes. Feel it. Let me hear your voice," I say. I thrust, shallow and quick.
"Le….ahhhnnnngghh." You are obviously enjoying this far too much, and I am all too willing to oblige. Your arms wrap around my neck as you cross your legs behind my back, impaling yourself deeper. A bead of sweat trickles down my forehead. I adjust my angle slightly and thrust, hard.
"Leohhn!" you cry out.
What did you just say? I pull back and thrust, harder.
I grab you by the roots of your hair and silence your traitorous mouth with a brutal kiss.
Your mouth tastes of metal and bitter cassis. You whimper and protest as I plunder you with my tongue and lips, but you are no match for me. I continue driving into you in a frenzy of quick, powerful thrusts that almost tear you apart with their ferocity.
Know that it is I, Rau Wu Fei, who is fucking you now.
You fight and kick like a wild antelope, scratching deep enough to draw blood. I do not relent.
Who can know the secret places of your body? Who can master you as intimately as I? Who else can give you such exquisite pleasure? Only I, and no other.
I come up gasping for air. You choke back a sob.
One more forceful thrust and I spill my seed into you. I collapse to the side, heaving, weary and spent but still not sated. I feel a strange hollowness stealing into my chest.
Moments later, I sit up and idly notice your stomach, slick and smeared with your own come. Your lips are swollen and bleeding. Your eyes glisten with tears.
I get up without saying a word and head to the bathroom for a shower.
I walk you back to the Pet Shop early next morning. We reach the doorway. You whirl around to face me. Your purple and gold eyes flash in the dim light of dawn.
"You have broken the third rule, and come dangerously close to breaking the second."
I do not flinch at your accusatory tone. "You were willing enough last night."
"You took advantage of my inebriated state."
My own anger resurges. "Considering what we do in bed, a simple kiss is a trivial thing to ask."
Your eyes narrow. "The terms of the agreement are clear. I'm afraid I have to cut short this...arrangement of ours." You turn your back to open the door, but I grab your shoulder to stop you.
"This Leon...Is he a detective?" I ask.
The transformation I see takes me aback. Have I not seen it with my own eyes, I would not have thought it possible for you to look as you do now. Your face mirrors shock, hurt, and despair while your eyes speak of untold longing. Your expression is devoid of ethereality and indifference – divinity crashed to earth. I turn away to erase the unwanted vision but it is too late. I release you.
"Do not bother to send another invitation," you say, not even sparing me a glance. The door clicks shut.