Hello! After such a length of time I'll be surprised if anyone reads this. It was written at four in the morning, so it's a little on the odd side, I guess. I do apologize for not updating more often. This term uni is kicking my rump. I had to rewrite a paper from scratch after my professor told me it sucked. I guess I'm not good at writing philosophy papers, though that doesn't surprise me when I've been told I'm a little wishy-washy.
Anyhow, I wanted to post this for two reasons. One to giggle at the new law Japan as supposedly enacted, which makes me roll my eyes and blanch at the same time, as well as jump in excitement that Hatori is a character in the Yokozawa no Baai movie coming out. I am so excited he'll be making an appearance on the big screen, even if I won't get to see him in his life-size glory. I'll have to have some of my friends in Japan go to see the movie so they can tell me what it's like. (Not to mention I adore the seiyuu chosen for Kirishima!)
Thanks for everyone who has read, commented, etc. this story. It makes me happy to see people are still enjoying Hatori and Chiaki after over a year of writing them. They're like the brothers I always wanted. Cheers mates!
Let's Talk Again Sometime
"Did your parents receive the summons?" Chiaki asked, rather absentmindedly, as he chewed on the tip of his pencil.
Hatori almost chuckled at the comment since he was of the idea that the summons was utterly ridiculous. "Yes," he replied as he slowly stirred the stew on the stove. "They are refusing to go though, and rightly so," he added.
Yoshino looked up, pencil still attached to his lower lip. "Won't they get into trouble? My mom said that people could get arrested if they aren't careful." The worry in his voice was evident. The very idea of Tori's parents ending up in jail actually turned his blood to Jell-o.
Thoughtfully Hatori eyed his lover. The concern he could hear in the mangaka's voice was beyond sweet. "Don't let it bother you, Yoshino. My parents are more than capable of taking care of themselves. Besides, neither of them are close to the cut-off mark for the waist measurement, so I doubt it's necessary to worry right now."
In truth both he and the slighter man were both a little appalled at the new law. Who in their right mind would require men and women have a certain size waist or less? Not to mention the fact that those who were above could get fined. He tended to agree with the doctors; Japan was not the country that needed such a law. Plus, it was bound to backfire in the long run.
"You also shouldn't let this new law affect your already late manuscript," Hatori chided, adding onions to his confection.
Chiaki rolled his eyes. Leave it to the man wearing a floral print apron to think more about work than the idea of his parents going to jail. Blue eyes gazed lovingly at the man in his kitchen. It was his fault Tori'd put the apron on. Chiaki had mentioned that it would help with inspiration and by that time in their relationship he'd become fully aware of the fact that his lover would do anything to help with Yoshino's muse.
A smile crept onto the cherub-like face as he watched the editor create dinner. In truth it was almost like watching a man treat his lover to a graceful dance. The way Hatori managed to move effortlessly would make even the most seasoned of ballet dancers jealous. Chiaki watched as Hatori meticulously pealed the turnips. He didn't even like turnips, but he'd eat them anyway just because Tori was adding them to the stew.
Eventually the mangaka completely stopped working on his pages and just watched the show. Long slender fingers held the lemon like one would a new-born child. Small pieces of the skin fell into the pot to be absorbed by the bubbling liquid. In truth it was like watching one of those cooking programs without the commentary, until Hatori reached for the next vegetable.
Carrots are definitely a necessity in any good stew, plus Chiaki liked them. He especially liked how his lover was handling the carrot. Hatori washed the carrot gently in the water, letting the water droplets crash onto the orange skin and then fall into the sink below. Those skilled fingers that had held his own 'carrot' rubbing the outer skin of the thing in such a fashion it caused various memories to hit Chiaki's conscious like a sledge hammer.
Instantly the feel of Hatori's fingers on his body caused him to become aroused. The mangaka's eyes flew open as he felt his pants tent in front and he dropped his pencil with a loud clatter. Hatori looked up from his work and gazed quizzically at the other man in the room.
"Y-yes!" Chiaki squeaked, hands making a beeline for his pants lest the larger man see his predicament.
Completely clueless, Hatori went back to his cooking. "Why don't you take a short break before dinner, then after you eat you might be able to focus," he suggested. "Dinner'll be ready in about ten minutes."
Ten minutes is more than enough time!, the man in trouble shouted to himself.
Chiaki bounded from his front room to his bedroom and then the bathroom faster than Hatori was able to blink. Yoshiyuki shook his head and prayed silently that something would hit his lover in the head about his manuscript since it was already two days late and Takano was breathing down his neck.
It had been a while since one Yoshino Chiaki had needed to sit in a private place with himself in such a manner. He was surprised at how engorged he was after watching a carrot getting the treatment. When the hell had a fucking carrot become so arousing? Then again, it could have been all his imagination; and Chiaki had one heck of an imagination. He'd never have made it as a mangaka if he hadn't.
"You just had to spring to life at such a moment," he complained to his neglected organ that was finally free from its confines. "Do you really like his touch that much?" Rather than his cock, he was talking to himself. It hadn't taken long in their relationship before just the thought of his lover's hands on him, anywhere on him, before he started to respond. He loved Tori enough that he didn't really even need to touch himself anymore in order to masturbate.
Was that normal? There wasn't anyone he could even think to ask about such a thing without embarrassing himself to high hell. Both Hatori and Yuu were out for obvious reasons; plus Yuu wouldn't let him live it down. Yoshino was almost thirty bloody years old, he shouldn't have needed to ask such questions at his age. The fact that he did made him think he was still a kid in the head.
"I'm not going to touch you, come on your own," he blurted out to himself, even though the feel of Hatori's imaginary fingers on his body had disappeared with the idea of having to ask his question. Sadly his penis was still standing as ridged as a flagpole. Tori's name was in the back of his throat as he almost lost it and called to the man to fix his problem. However, that was enough to get his thoughts back on track and he could feel the other man's skill start to ghost over his body.
"T-T-Tori," he breathed, keeping his hand over his mouth lest the other man hear him moaning out his name. Imaginary fingers were replaced with an equally imaginary mouth at which point a sticky white fluid shot forth in spurts as Chiaki bit down on his hand enough to draw blood. Droplets of red fell from his broken appendage and fell to his dying cock and he watched the crimson mix with leftover white. It was all too much for his mind to handle and he felt the world go black moments later.
Hatori was quite enjoying the quiet while he finished making dinner. Ladle in hand and bowls waiting, he started to fill them with his stew. It smelled pretty good for a first time attempt. He was tempted to taste it, but a crash from Yoshino's bathroom caught his attention, causing him to drop the ladle into the pot as he dashed through the apartment, tearing off the apron in his wake. It was rare that the man actually ran, but when it involved his lover he'd have run across the sun barefoot.
Within moments he was opening the door to the bathroom after a quick knock to make sure Chiaki hadn't just dropped something. When not a sound was heard, he raced through the door and stopped dead in his tracks. There was Yoshino's form, back to him, on the floor next to the toilet.
"Chiaki!" he coughed, trying to ascertain the situation. Rarely did Yoshino get sick, and in truth Hatori was constantly hoping that his lover never got sick again after what had happened before. So seeing the slight man on the floor just about caused Yoshiyuki to have a heart attack, both for being reminded of the past and fear for Chiaki's health.
Still, true to his form, he remained calm on the outside while his insides were in turmoil as he checked the other man over. When he saw Yoshino breathing he exhaled a breath he hadn't been aware he'd been holding. It appeared that the other man fainted, so Hatori picked up his lover and carried him to the bed. Chiaki had swooned on more than one occasion when his head was cloudy and it was clear to the editor that an overburdened mind had caused this specific incident. The evidence of both semen and blood on a semi-erect cock was definitely a big hint.
Carefully he lowered his best friend to the bed and started to remove the other's clothes. Within moments Yoshino was naked and Hatori was sponging his body of grime, blood, and cum. He was just about to stand up and dump the bowl of soiled water when a hand reached out and grabbed hold of his wrist.
"Tori?" Chiaki asked, confused.
The taller man sat back down on the bed and pulled a blanket over the other's nude form. "It's okay Yoshino. You fainted. I brought you to the bed and cleaned you off."
"Why'd I faint?" the mangaka asked, completely mortified and blushing bright red at the thought.
Hatori had more than figured out what had happened. "I'm not sure you need to know that yet, Yoshino. Take it easy while I get rid of this water and I'll help you dress and eat when I get back."
Chiaki glowered. "I'm not a kid," he snapped, taking his hand away and freeing the other man. Said other man didn't give in though and disappeared into the bathroom to empty the contents of the bowl into the toilet. No way was Yoshino's mind clear enough to comprehend why he'd ended up in such a state.
Movement from the next room made it clear that Chiaki was mad at him. He could hear the man digging through his dresser for clothes. God but he could be the most obstinate person in existence when he wanted. Hatori left the bowl and went to help Yoshino dress so he didn't hurt himself further.
"Let me help you," he admonished, attempting to put his lover back on the bed.
"I haven't needed someone to dress me in over twenty years, Hatori," Chiaki grumbled. He pulled on a pair of pants and started digging for a clean shirt.
Hatori gave up and sat on the bed. Sometimes his lover overreacted and this definitely fit. "Do you really not remember why you passed out, Yoshino?" he asked, waiting to hear the affirmation.
"I wouldn't ask if I didn't need to," Chiaki replied, pulling a shirt over his head and glaring at the second set of blue eyes in the room.
"You were jacking off and bit your hand," Hatori deadpanned without ceremony.
Chiaki's eyes went wide and he looked down to see that his hand was indeed bandaged. Blood started to rush to his face and he averted his eyes in humiliation. Who the fuck passes out after such an act?
"I'm kind of jealous that you can make yourself pass out after pleasuring yourself, yet I cannot," Hatori admitted without thinking.
"Embarrassing," Yoshino mumbled, turning his body away.
"What?" Hatori asked, knowing full well he was egging the man on at what was probably not the most opportune time.
"How can you say such embarrassing things with a straight face?" Chiaki mumbled, face on fire.
Hatori stood up and walked across the room and pulled his lover into a hug from behind, resting his head on the other man's shoulder. "Because I love you," he whispered, ticking Yoshino's ear with his tongue in a rather seductive manner.
Yoshino shivered but didn't try to move away from the safety of Tori's embrace. He could feel his heart pounding in his chest and was sure his editor could feel it too.
"I would have helped," Hatori continued, actually letting the weight of not being asked hit him. Damn, it sure hurt that Chiaki would rather do it himself the let his own lover take care of his problem, especially when he was around. In fact, it was like he had just gotten slapped in the face with a golf shoe now that the adrenaline had stopped pumping in his blood.
Slowly he pushed away and walked back into the front room, leaving a rather perplexed Yoshino in his bedroom, wondering why this little tiff hadn't ended up with them in the sack. That was the normal for them; minor disagreement, make-up, make love, eat. Actually it was rather cliché, but Chiaki had come to enjoy the repetition, so this detour from the normal left a bad taste in his mouth.
Chiaki walked into the front room and saw that Hatori had donned the apron again and was reheating the stew. A plate of soggy vegetables was already on the table with some hardened rice. The mangaka sat down at his normal spot and gazed at his lover, wondering where he'd gone wrong. He was used to occasionally causing the other some sort of pain, but he couldn't even think of what it was this time.
It wasn't until fifteen minutes into a completely silent dinner that Yoshino'd had enough and spoke up. "Tori, whatever I did, I'm sorry."
"It wasn't your fault, Yoshino, so you have nothing to apologize for," Hatori replied, briefly meeting the blue eyes boring holes into his head.
What could he have done wrong?, Chiaki wondered to himself, trying to figure out where either of them had messed up in the prior twenty-four hours. He could think of absolutely nothing.
"I'll try to hold it back next time," Hatori continued, eating slowly.
Thus dinner continued silently as Chiaki tried to figure out what Hatori was thinking and Hatori debated going home to sleep rather than stay at the mangaka's house. Of course his lover's bed was rather large, so they could easily sleep in the same bed and not even touch one another. The problem was that whenever he was in the same bed he wanted to hold the man. Call it almost thirty years of repressed emotion, but it would be even more difficult to not reach out and grasp that lithe body when he was within an arm's length away. He'd do it though.
Hatori looked up and watched Chiaki pick at his food like a kid being punished. He knew they needed to talk, after all, a promise was a promise. By not talking to one another they were just hurting themselves and one another. It was as corny thought, but their life sounded like a manga in so many ways where neither were willing to talk to one another. Anyone with half a brain knew that if someone just communicated the problem could be solved, at least technically.
"Are you wanting me to hold back a little, Yoshino?" Hatori finally asked since it was clear by his lover's face that every minute of silence was killing the sparkle in his blue eyes.
Chiaki didn't quite know how to respond since he didn't understand the question. "Um…what do you mean?"
The brown-haired editor wasn't keen on elaborating since it was rather embarrassing. Normally any type of feeling such as this didn't affect Tori, but in his head he'd already resigned to needing to take care of himself a little more often than make love with his boyfriend. His mind worked fast on most things and as he tried to hold off on his outward emotions, he never took too long on an internal debate. Perhaps such actions were his downfall.
"I know we agreed to speak more openly," Hatori began. "Sometimes our actions speak louder than words though." The speaker took a breath while watching his love eye him curiously. "Would you prefer not to do intimate things as often?"
Yoshino's blood ran cold for a moment. Had Tori actually thought his own masturbation was a slight? Chiaki never would have considered his personal pleasuring as a way of bringing on jealousy. "Do you mean you don't want to stay over anymore?"
Hatori shook his head. "No, but I can ease up on our activities if they are not to your liking," he responded, completely ready to switch back to a friend if push came to shove. The thought of losing Chiaki as a lover was heart wrenching, but to lose him completely would have killed him on the inside. The editor would do anything he could for his lover, including sacrifice his own desires.
Chiaki rolled his eyes. "Are you jealous of my hand, Tori?" he asked, blushing slightly and averting his eyes.
"Yes," the other answered truthfully. "I don't understand why you would choose not to allow me to make love with you and instead do it yourself."
The smaller man scoffed. "Even when you're not there in person, you're still definitely there," Chiaki said, eyes narrowing. Then he decided to accuse the man, just to see where this line of conversation ended. "I don't even need to touch myself anymore, all I have to do is think of you and your spirit or whatever attacks me."
Silence followed as the editor tried to figure out what he'd just been told. All his life Chiaki had been his masturbation material, but he never expected his lover to openly admit that he himself was material on the other side, even if he always hoped it was to that sort.
Rather than stand up and take his boyfriend in his arms, Hatori decided to continue the conversation. "So you can ejaculate without even touching yourself, like a waking wet dream?"
"Okay Tori, this conversation just got really weird," Chiaki spit. "I don't know if we should…"
Hatori chuckled, slightly. Their conversations seemed so distant at times and maybe it was true that they spent too much time in the sack. Of course he loved Chiaki, and by making love he was hoping his feelings were conveyed, but sometimes a spoken conversation was necessary.
"Why are you laughing at a time like this?" Chiaki spit, starting to feel those invisible fingers of Hatori's on his shoulders, massaging away all of his concerns.
"Because you're cute, and you just reminded me of how much I love you."
The mangaka shivered. Hatori was sitting across from him, showing off his sadistic side, by vocally causing him to think what he needn't be thinking.
"Do you always feel me on you, Chiaki?" Hatori asked, knowing full well his adorable lover was probably thinking about what they could be doing instead of talking. Yoshino having such thoughts meant that he was on his lover's mind as often as the pixie-faced man was on his.
Yoshino slammed his hands on the table, face burning in humiliation, and tears threatening to spill. "Yes!" he snarled. "Are you happy? You've completely taken over me."
Hatori stood up and walked to Chiaki's side of the table. His hand made its way toward the other's face and he wiped the tears from Yoshino's eyes with his fingers. No further move was made as he sat there cupping his lover's face. "I just hope, Yoshino," Hatori stated softly. "That the real me is still better than the one in your mind."
Chiaki wanted to disappear equally as much as he wanted to be taken to the bedroom. "You're an idiot for even thinking that, Tori," he grumbled, reaching up and holding the large hand to his face.
Then an explosion went off in his head. Chiaki jumped up, knocking Hatori off kilter slightly. "That's it!" he shouted as he turned and made his way to his desk. Hatori watched in surprise as Chiaki started to sketch like mad, hands moving at a furious pace. Yoshino looked up at his lover and smiled. "You are the best muse, Tori," he grinned, turning back toward the papers that were scattering slightly under his movements.
Far be it for anything to cock-block Hatori, but even he knew when it wasn't that time. He just shook his head, grateful that their conversations were becoming more frequent. More definitely needed to follow on a daily basis.
"This is good, Yoshino," Hatori said approvingly. "I'm proud of your work."
Chiaki was beside himself with happiness. He loved it when Tori praised him, but even more so when he used real life to inspire fiction.
"I like how you used our conversation to create contention and resolution between these two characters. Being jealous of your own lover's ability to take care of himself is interesting," Hatori said, making some minor corrections. "Though," he added. "I don't see anything in here about him wearing a floral-print apron."
Hatori glared at Chiaki's impish face. Seems they'd both used one another in some way over the course of the prior twenty-four hours. At least the pages were finished.
"Let's talk again sometime, Tori," Chiaki said, taking his pages to see where the editor had made corrections.
The editor nodded. "Any time you want, Yoshino."