Digimon Fan Fiction ❯ Lies, Crimes, and Punishments ❯ Limits ( Chapter 12 )

[ X - Adult: No readers under 18. Contains Graphic Adult Themes/Extreme violence. ]

Night comes swiftly in winter. The sun flirts with the horizon, stretching its arms across the skyline, over the rooftops. The sky turns from milky white to soft gold. Soft gold melts away into deeper shades, deeper yet, deeper, until the whole atmosphere is glowing in burnished auburn.
And then, just as swiftly, the darkness comes. It envelops, it drifts into every corner and alleyway. The sodium and halogen lights bravely keep it back from their small lighted halos.
But everywhere else, the black and cold spread. An inky world of ice.

Kitami was covered in the winter night. For Ken, it brought a chill to the very center of his bones.
Koushiro was... Probably right now... Oh, god. It made him ill to think about it. For all the terrible games he'd played in his mind, for all the wicked evils he'd committed, he loved Koushiro. He hadn't meant to fall in love, only seduce someone supposedly incorruptible.
It had been Izzy. It had been unexpected. He wasn't supposed to fall in love, but he did.

And now... Now he was with that goddamned Detective. The thought of them together made his blood run cold.
And he was here, far away from anyplace where he could DO something about it. Stuck in this prison, with real worries to occupy his mind.

There was a real threat. Ken knew it was one which would slowly approach, slowly corner him. Slowly. One which knew just when to then swiftly move into position and conquer.
Like the cold in his blood, like the cold in the night.

Ken's flesh goosepimpled and futilely tried to run away, down the back of his shirt. Shu and Kaneda approached and the other prisoners fled. Cold smiles plastered on their faces.
"Good evening, sweetheart. What are you in the mood for tonight?" Shu's menacing words were punctuated by Kaneda's fist pounding dramatically into his flattened palm.
What are you in the mood for? A beating then humiliation, or just the humiliation?
Ken staggered to his feet, using the wall for balance. His ribs still felt like they would pull apart at any second, the pain was blistering. There was no way he was ready for an encore.
"I'm not in the mood to fight, if that's what you're implying." He licked his dry lips, anticipating the horrors in store for him.
"That's great news. I'm so glad you finally see our point - there's no use struggling." Shu turned to the larger man, a wry smile on his lips. "What are YOU up for tonight, Kaneda?" A thoughtful expression mused on his face, mentally picking out his flavor of pleasure from a menu of violations.
"I think I'd like to see what he feels like on the inside." Shock tore through Ken's eyes - they had said nothing like that while they were beating him yesterday. Oh god, he was completely at their mercy. Whether it was a blow job or whether they were fucking him up the ass, he had absolutely no control.
"Excellent choice, I was thinking the same thing." Ken's trapped heart threatened to beat its way out of his chest, if simply just to get away from the inevitable horror that was approaching. They were close now, they had their hands on him now. They were turning him to face the wall now.
Oh god, oh god...
Shu's small hand grazed across the back of Ken's waist and dove into his prison-issue trousers. Bile crept up his throat as the cold hand cupped his ass. No, this couldn't be happening!
He felt those evil little fingers coiling their way towards his opening, rough nails scraping on his skin. No, no, no!!
He could hear them both undoing their zippers... Were they going to fuck him at the same time?!
The fingers slipped through his tight, quivering barrier and started to stroke his insides...
Large hands gripped his pants and started to pull them down...
And Ken snapped.

The rusty judo skills kicked in and Ken's brain shut down. He turned abruptly, grabbed Kaneda's shoulders, and executed a perfect morote seoinage move, flipping his assailant over his shoulder and onto the concrete mercilessly. Shu, to surprised to react, was grabbed under his knee and thrown, much less dropped, to the floor. The adrenaline was pumping, the oxygen was flowing. Ken was in full on panic mode and too far gone to feel the pain from his previous wounds.
He watched carefully as Kaneda got to his feet, rage written across his features.
"You want to fight? Fight first, fuck later. That's fine with me." Rather than approaching, fists flying, as he had previously, Kaneda assumed a kata stance, eyes narrowed, ready for battle. The adrenaline flowed faster along with a single phrase in Ken's mind. 'Oh, SHIT.'
Judo's major tenets focus around being able to overcome an enemy whose mass is greater than yours. He should have been in a perfect position to hand these jokers their asses now that he was focused and prepared. But with the pain in his muscles tightening and with the new knowledge that Kaneda knew some form of karate, all Ken could feel was fear blossoming in the pit of his stomach.

Kaneda threw his weight to one foot and Ken knew a kick was on the way. He instinctively ducked, but his opponent anticipated and threw his outstretched foot in the space where Ken's head was trying to hide. Light danced across his vision as he just managed to step back out of the reach of a second blow. An instant later and a fist was barreling towards him. Ken dove out of the way and grabbed what he could of Kaneda's shirt, trying to throw him into the wall. It only served to bring him closer, right where Kaneda could do the most damage. He grabbed Ken's shirt in turn, lifted the lighter man off his feet, and dropped him on the cold, unforgiving ground.
Shu was instantly there, holding him down by the throat.
"We'll teach you not to fight. We'll teach you to be obedient." Kaneda took this fantastic opportunity to repeatedly and viciously kick Ken in the stomach. Trying to roll away, he brought his unbound hands up and searched for Shu's eyes. Finding them, he wasted no time in driving his thumbs into the soft sockets. Shu screamed an animal cry. "Motherfucker!" He released Ken and curled on his side, cupping his bleeding face. Kaneda picked Ken up before he had a chance to stand and threw him full body into the wall in retaliation for his comrade's mutilated eyes. The look on his face was pure murder. Ken crumpled to the ground from the impact and Kaneda spun him onto his stomach. There were no words now, only grunts of rage. He grabbed Ken's arm and twisted it back, back, back, until it gave a loud SNAP. The pain tore through him and he screamed, long and loud. There was no movement in the arm now, it hung limply from him like a bad dream. Terror and pain clouded his eyes and he lay there gasping, trying not to think about the fact that HIS ARM had nearly been torn the fuck off. What the fuck kind of karate was this?!! He vaguely remembered hearing something about koppojutsu, bone breaking techniques, but this was insane!!
Kaneda moved away and Ken lay there gasping, praying it was over, praying the guards would come soon, hastened by his unbridled screams. The monster of a man walked to the toilet that was installed on the far wall. He wrapped his hands around the seat of the toilet and his muscles bunched as he strained. The aluminum hinges tore free and he gripped his prize in his hands.
Ken prayed. He prayed to nameless gods.
Kaneda stalked back to the quivering form on the ground.
"No, please. Please no, oh god..."
He knelt down, grasped the black sweaty hair in his hands, raised the hard plastic weapon...
And proceeded to destroy Ken's head.

The guards found the bloody body 3 minutes later.

The cold winter night was safely locked outside. Here, out in the hallway, the night was far away, residing only as a memory - as melting snowflakes on his coat.
His hand shook, hesitating above the knob. Turn? Yes? No?
He pulled his fingers back, running them through his short hair instead. DID he have somewhere else to go? Where? He was, in effect, homeless. It was pointless to dance around the situation.
With that all-too-real-and-harsh word running through his head, Koushiro drew a deep breath, put the spare key in the lock, and turned the knob.

The sound of running water greeted his ears as starchy smells wafted up his nose. The apartment foyer was furnished sparsely with only a coat rack, but the wood wainscoting that ran from the door and led his eyes into the living room spoke of the potential this flat held. Izzy slowly removed his shoes, eyes travelling before he would allow his feet to. The last two times he'd been here he didn't have the capacity or emotional stability to admire the simple harmony of color and style.
The few pieces of furniture were dark colored, matching the window treatments. The wallpaper was a simple, warm beige. It left a cozy and inviting feeling in his chest, replacing the chill of the wind and snow.
The kitchen was off to the right, out of sight. The water was turned off abruptly and a blonde head sprouted from the wall.
"Koushiro? I didn't even hear you come in." A smile instantly spread across Shinseki's features and Izzy couldn't help but smile in return. "Hungry? I just finished the pasta. Why don't you settle in and I'll get you a plate." His sunny face disappeared again and Izzy had no choice but to comply.
There was a basic service for two set on a small dining table on the far side of the room. Nothing overly dramatic.
As Izzy crossed the living room, he couldn't help but admire a finely detailed rug spread across the floor. It was in complete contrast to the deep and muted shades elsewhere. Red thread wove with gold and purple in a huge octagonal floral design. The sides were decorated with geometric daisies set in a deep bed of navy. He could only stare, inexplicably entranced.
"You like it? My mother gave it to me as some sort of grandiose house-warming present when I first moved in. I'm not quite sure what kind of rug it is." Shinseki floated out of the kitchen, all smiles and grace, in his hands two plates heaped with calamari and squid ink tagliatelle. The salty smell of the pasta was making Koushiro salivate.
"It's gorgeous. I feel bad walking on it."
"Don't be silly - it's probably some Hong Kong knockoff." He flashed a toothy grin at Izzy. I'll be right back.
And indeed he was - this time with a bowl of steamed broccoli florets in one hand, a bottle of Chardonnay and two wine glasses balanced delicately in the other.
"Wow - this is amazing!" Koushiro's gaze was now rapt on the feast that had been set on the table. "I didn't know you could cook like this."
"There's a lot about me you don't know," Shinseki teased. The way he wiggled his eyebrows suggestively, Koushiro couldn't fight the light chuckle escaping his throat. What was it about Abe that made him drop his guard so readily? He knew precisely that this gorgeous dinner was a setup, an excuse for wine and romance, an excuse for them to get closer... It was a blatant seduction. Shinseki had made promises that he would not overtly push the redhead. He was perhaps stretching the rules...
Abe swiftly uncorked the wine and poured gracefully, the gold liquid sliding into the glasses without a glug.
"What shall we toast to?" Izzy just stared at him wordlessly. Toast? He hardly felt in the mood to celebrate. His lover was a killer, he had been betrayed, he was a carnal sinner, and he'd just been excommunicated.
"I'll make that your call."
"Hmm..." Shinseki swirled the chardonnay in his glass thoughtfully. "To the future. I don't think there's anything more fitting." That was fair. Each man could interpret it in his own way. Shinseki - to the future of his career, to a probable future with Koushiro, to the future of the evening... Izzy - to moving on from the past, to growing, atoning, to perhaps one day being comfortable in his own skin.
"To the future."

The wine was perfectly cold and it snaked its way down his throat smoothly. The inviting temperature combined with the salty pasta caused Koushiro to lose track of the number of times Shinseki had done the honor of refilling his glass. As the meal progressed, he cared less and less. Shinseki had kept to his word - no overt flirtations, no propositions. The conversation was light and both men were delighted to find they were equally informed on current events. It was such a simple joy actually talking to someone, Izzy mused. With Ken... Ken. He saved him only a quick thought. Even after Izzy's hurtful words, his heart grew tight thinking about him. He chastised himself for being so weak.
Ken - it had been minimal talking and mostly fucking. Conversation and really connecting was so wholesome. The more Shinseki and Koushiro talked, the more he learned about the blonde. He was halfway witty, sometimes funny, and becoming more and more attractive, if that was possible.
Then again, the wine could be augmenting things.

Similar thoughts were passing through Shinseki's head. God, it was wonderful to actually talk with someone. Half the guys at the gay bars were simply looking for meat and kept the conversations short. There was always the obligatory pickup line followed by the compliments on either his attire, hair, or ass. Then came the predictable 'want to go back to my place?'. It wasn't as if he wasn't also looking for a good lay, but where was the chase? Where was the verbal foreplay?
The other half - all they DID was talk! About themselves, about their careers, about their conquests. A great body was one thing, but who wanted to be bored half to death while trying to get their clothes off?
Koushiro - god, he was something different altogether. Politics, technology, local events, all while feasting on his slender features, depthless eyes, smooth fingers, supple lips... And imagining what they were capable of...
"I don't want you to take this the wrong way, but I have to say something." Shinseki produced a small, disarming smile. "You are so utterly gorgeous right now. I'm just taking a mental picture so I always remember you like this." Izzy didn't know what to say. The compliment had been delivered with such unexpected timing. It was cheesy, but crafted in such a silky way that he couldn't help but return the smile.
"Well, thank you... This was such a lovely dinner, and thank you again for taking me in. I don't know how I'm going to pay you back for this... I keep thinking about the future and what lies in store for me. I've got to get back in the job market now." He shook his head frustratedly. "I don't know where to begin! I don't even want to think about it... It's all so overwhelming."
"There's absolutely no reason to pay me back. If you think about it, I was the one who put you in this position in the first place." Shinseki's face was full of guilt. "If I hadn't..." He sighed in frustration. "You wouldn't have to worry about finding a job, making ends meet... I know you don't want to hear it, but I am so, so, sorry." Koushiro chuckled.
"You're right, I don't want to hear it. It's my fault and you're being generous letting me stay here. Thank you." He stood, reaching for Abe's empty plate. "At least let me clean up after you were so kind to cook."

Izzy gathered the silverware as well and started the water in the sink. Shinseki started to clean up the leftovers. The ratio of food to dishes was disproportionate, and soon the blonde found himself with nothing to do but stare at Koushiro as he scrubbed. His arms were soapy and in the effort, he'd carelessly wiped suds onto his cheek. He was adorable and deliciously sexy at the same time. Shinseki couldn't hide his blatant ogling, he leaned casually on the counter top and gazed.
Little by little, Izzy became aware he was being watched. What was he going to say? 'Why are you looking at me?' It was too embarrassing and quite literally the wrong approach. Not to mention he knew the truth - it was gathering as crimson on his cheeks. But he couldn't keep quiet - the silence was thick and the blush soon deepened and spread to his ears.
"What?"
"What what?"
"What are you doing?"
"Nothing."
A small little smirk grew on Shinseki's face. It was difficult for Izzy to keep his mind on the dishes when he was being scrutinized so. He could feel those green eyes running up and down his body, lingering, probing, watching.
It was making him undeniably hot.
He was suddenly aware of a warmth growing not only in his face, but in his groin. He licked his lips nervously - it was one thing to be watched, during a sermon, during communion - it was quite another to be studied intently by such a predatory creature. Shinseki's eyes licked over him. He could feel his gaze gliding across his skin. 'Do the dishes, Izzy. Just do the stupid fucking dishes.'
Shinseki couldn't take it anymore. He had been feasting on the man's inherent beauty. God! Koushiro was standing in his kitchen, full of his alcohol, doing his best to clean the dishes they had eaten on and trying not to let it show that he was plainly aware of what was transpiring.
The nervous flicker of a pink tongue over his lips was the tipping point. Shinseki couldn't stand it anymore. He was here! He was aware, he wasn't fighting, he was accepting... Not in so many words, but-
He was his.

The detective moved behind the determined dishwasher, hovering inches away, letting him feel his body heat without actually touching him. The tension was electric. Izzy stopped in mid-scrub, muscles tensing, breath coming in shallow gulps. Shinseki slowly leaned in, chest brushing Izzy's back. He placed his hands on the counter top, careful to keep them occupied. They would tear his fucking clothes off if they weren't given something to do.
The shorter man could feel the firmness of Shinseki's chest. It was there, flat, warm, inviting him to touch it. He knew his skin would be soft and taut if he ran his fingers over it. The dish in his hands was utterly forgotten. Shinseki lowered his head to the pale escarpment of Izzy's neck, breath running over it, preparing it for his lips. His. HIS lips.
His lidded green eyes carefully studied the fluttering pulse. His pulse. Koushiro wanted this as much as he did and here was the proof! Shinseki lapped against his skin, tasting the light residue of sweat. He filled his warm mouth with Koushiro's flesh, sucking, licking, kissing.
The redhead leaned back into his half-embrace, mouth open and gasping at the pleasure that was being inflicted on his sensitive neck. The warmth of his open mouth, of his chest, of the dishwater on his hands. It was a unifying comfort. He let his eyes slip shut, a small whimper escaping.
The sound ran through Shinseki's ears, straight through his brain, down into his penis. It jumped to attention at the sound, at the primal knowledge that his beautiful little toy was here, trapped between his outstretched arms, enjoying this. His hips ground into Izzy lightly, involuntarily, seeking friction. Another gasp was his reward. Shinseki's hands finally rebelled, leaving their occupation on the Formica countertop for more enjoyable environs. They stroked up and down Izzy's forearms, mapping their shape.
Izzy didn't dare admit it to himself, but he was enjoying this little game that had developed. He stood there, straight and rigid against the counter, hands still wet and sudsy, flat on the metal sink rim. By emitting a little sound from his lips, he could cause the blonde to do increasingly wonderful things to him. And he didn't have to move at all. He wasn't resisting, he wasn't submitting. He was passively accepting the pleasure Shinseki was only too willing to give. Passive. But powerfully in control.
Shinseki's brain on the other hand, wasn't working at all. He could not appreciate the irony in the situation. All he could do was feel.
And he felt Koushiro's breathing quicken, felt the blood throb in his own groin. His fingers danced their way under Izzy's shirt, possessive. They moved their way northward, smoothing, caressing, until they reached his nipples. There was only one thing left to do. Shinseki gently rubbed them between his thumbs and forefingers, smirk growing on his lips. Wickedly, he pinched down, twisting and wrenching a cry from Izzy's throat. The pain gave way to caresses, and the cry turned to a moan.
"Liked that, did you?" Koushiro could only nod in return. He was painfully hard by this point, his erection trapped in his pants, pressing up against the cabinet door, finding only minimal relief there. He would not give up on this. He would not give in.
He ground his teeth together and focused on keeping his hands placed firmly on the counter.
Shinseki finally caught on. If Izzy was determined to stay in control of the situation, he was determined to wrest it from him, to make him shake and plead.
His nimble fingers abandoned their duties on Izzy's chest and instead worked their way back to his own. A seductive moan hummed from his lips as he slowly unbuttoned his own shirt. Izzy's breath caught in his chest. He was determined not to look back, but he could well imagine what was happening. That beautiful taut chest being exposed...
After the shirt came the pants. For dramatic effect, Shinseki unzipped them one tooth at a time, dragging out the unmistakable sound. The warmth left Izzy's back as Shinseki pulled away and pulled out his hardened length. Another moan passed through Shinseki's lips, this one fully unselfconscious, throaty and full of pleasure. Sweat beaded on Izzy's forehead. God, this was turning him on.
But he couldn't lose, he couldn't! He glared at a ladybug crawling idly up the wall, focusing on the black spots on the tiny red back and not at the lithe creature behind him, pants now probably pooled around his ankles, pleasuring himself.
Shinseki's resolve began to falter, hand working faster on his cock, the other bracing himself against the counter. No, no, no, no! This is NOT how it was going to work. He would not lose. Regretfully, his hand left its task and instead wormed between Izzy's lower belly and the edge of the counter. Again, painfully slowly, they worked to undo a pants zipper. Koushiro could not hold back a gasp as the fingers deftly snuck inside the edge of his pants, careful not to touch his erection and spoil the game.
They meandered around his waist to Izzy's back, slowly, slowly, pulled them down. A moan escaped from Shinseki's throat at the sight before him - the beautiful redhead with smooth alabaster form, exposed for his sinister pleasure.
"I'm sure you'll like this..." Shinseki swiftly coated his own fingers with saliva and gently parted Izzy's cheeks, probing and stroking and working their sure way into his opening. It was Koushiro's turn to moan and Shinseki's face lit up with arousal. Such a focused point of warmth - he worked a third finger in.
God... Was this really going to happen? Was he really going to take him here, pressed up against his kitchen sink?
Izzy determinedly kept his hands on the counter top, but his rebellious throat was purring moans every time Shinseki plunged his fingers in and whimpered every time he removed them.
Oh, God... Enough was enough! Shinseki felt as though he were going to explode waiting for Koushiro to do something. He couldn't wait, he couldn't take it anymore! Izzy was fully prepared now and even though the sane portion of his brain was telling him to go get a condom first, Shinseki simply positioned his cock and entered him in one smooth needful motion.
Heat. Heat, heat and pleasure. It was all he felt and it was too good to even move. He rested his head against Koushiro's back as a shared shudder passed through both bodies. But his cock was demanding, and he was only too willing to give it what it needed.
Shinseki rocked slowly in and out, closing his eyes and focusing on the feeling. In, in, in, and soon his length was buried. The head of his penis kissed against a spot in Koushiro that took all the strength from the redhead's knees. Izzy leaned into the counter, crushing his arousal against the remainder of his pants and the cabinet door.
The blonde pulled out and back in again, careful to ensure he thrust deep again. More firmly this time. A wordless cry was his reward. He felt Koushiro contract around him in reflex and the animal switch was flipped in Shinseki's mind. He moved faster, working back and forth faster, building up a steady rhythm to a frenetic pounding beat. Izzy's chest was tight as he groaned with each thrust. He was close, god he was close... But then, a cruel halt - the blonde suddenly slowed his pace. He only inched along, threatening to stop.
Shinseki had not forgotten their little game and was determined to not give up. Determined to hear that one little word... Determined to have Koushiro give in.
"Please. Please, Abe-kun..." It was a half-gasp and barely coherent.
"Tsk, tsk. I don't think I heard you."
"Oh god... Please. Please, please, please!" Koushiro's semblance of control was gone, his need leaking out into his words. Shinseki teased, sarcastic humor lacing his words.
"Please what? I can't help you if I don't know what you want."
"Please, please fuck me. God, do it now... fuck me!"
With those sweet words, Shinseki let go, his movements fast and frantic. He placed his hands over Izzy's, somehow still gripping the metal sink. His pace quickened. He stopped holding back and let the feeling fully sink into every nerve. Without polite warning, his orgasm hit him, solid and overwhelming. Koushiro choked out a gasp as his own pleasure peaked, his eyes rolling back into his head, collapsing against the counter. Both men were silent as their brains bathed in the fog of their ebbing pleasure.
Koushiro turned his head and provided Shinseki with a wilting stare full of unabated passion.
"...I liked that very much."
"Then let's not stop."
Shinseki pulled him from the counter top, attacking him with hungry, unfulfilled kisses. He drew him across the kitchen, feverishly pushing him to the wall, pressing the fronts of their bodies together. Reveling in the new sensation.
They found their way haphazardly to the living room. To the couch or to the bedroom? Abe couldn't make up his mind which he'd prefer to try first.
The rug! Yes, start there, then they could work their way around his apartment, defiling every piece of furniture.
He pushed Izzy down onto the luxurious patterns, determined to make him beg sweetly again. He wanted to see his eyes this time, wanted to see him beg before he took him.
He lowered his head to tease the tip of his tongue over Koushiro's stomach. Delighted sighs tickled his ears and he could feel already that Koushiro was returning to a hard and ready state. He tilted his head up and caught his black irises in a heated gaze.
"All I want to do is crawl back inside you." He received a lascivious presentation of Izzy's tongue licking over his lips in expectation. "But that pink little tongue of yours is giving me other ideas..." One red eyebrow cocked suggestively, and he took his time now in giving Shinseki a slow oral strip-tease depicting what was to come. Their locked stare never faltered as Koushiro used his tongue to tease across his teeth, then brought one finger up to his mouth and slowly sucked.
Shinseki's body quivered in barely-restrained desire. "God, how can one man be so hot? You're just bottled sex, you know that? What a crime to keep you cloistered." Before the full impact of his last words could connect in Izzy's mind, Abe rolled them over, pulled Izzy on top of him, sucking and pulling at his lips, desperate to feel, desperate to touch. He was slowly devouring the smaller man and Izzy couldn't stop the tightness in his chest and legs from bringing his hands to Abe's erection, mimicking the rhythm of their mouths with his slim, deft digits.
More, he had to make the blonde feel more - had to hear his delighted moans. Wordlessly, he pulled his mouth away, pulled his hands away.
His lonely hands now traveled to Shinseki's shoulders, pinning him firming to the carpet. His mouth traveled impatiently down his chest, detouring in the hollow of his breastbone, loitering in his soft delicate navel. A chorus of gasps and a shudder rewarded Izzy for his dalliances. He mused on the shape of it as his tongue took another trip around the oval hollow, teasing. The folds were settled together just so - the shape just begged to be licked. He plunged his tongue in - Shinseki brought his fingers to Koushiro's hair.
"Please... please, don't tease." Chuckling darkly, Izzy allowed his head to be pushed away from the pleasant little depression to an object simply pulsing with neglected frustration.
"Please what, Abe-kun?"
"Please, please, put that lovely mouth of yours on me... God..." He risked a look at the redhead's lowered face, smirking dangerously, inches above his burning need. It sent reserves of blood he didn't know he had straight into his cock. Oh, god...
Koushiro could see his anxiousness building and took only a moment to indulge himself in another tease, hanging his mouth open, encircling his head with his lips, not touching, not really... Shinseki growled through his clenched teeth. "Don't be a bad boy, Koushiro..."
Koushiro's warm plump lips began delivering wet caresses to his head, licking and sucking his way down, slowly taking inches into his mouth. He was determined to deliver a slow punishing pleasure before stepping up the tempo.
But Shinseki's nerves were too raw, too impatient.
"Don't be bad, be a GOOD boy, Koushiro," he panted. His hands wrapped in the red locks, pushing down on Izzy's head. Perhaps a little too hard - the tip of his cock bounced against the back of Izzy's throat. With his eyes closed, neurons connected the present to a resurfacing memory. The rug, the oddly English pattern - the short stiff bristles. The penis forced to the back of his throat. 'Be a good boy, Izumi.'
He choked and placed his hands flat on the rug, pushing himself off of Shinseki's cock. It was too fast - his hands burnt against the fibers, and he brought them to his face, staring at the light pink marks. His hands were shaking.
"Koushiro..." Shinseki's voice was mildly recriminating, unaware of the situation. "Enough teasing." His next words died in his throat as he took in the look on Izzy's face, his posture. The horror that was developing was painting his eyes shades of liquid and his cheeks pink. "Are... you okay? I didn't hurt you, did I?" He couldn't believe it - he hadn't done anything! Why was this happening? Why couldn't things rewind 15 seconds and WHY couldn't he still be sucking his cock?
"Oh, Abe-kun..." Koushiro's voice shook with the effort of trying not to cry. "I'm so sorry..." His erection was still demanding, but Shinseki did his best to ignore it, instead sitting up and scooping Izzy into a half-embrace. He melted instantly into his arms, his voice broke, sobs shuddering through his chest.
"What... What happened? Koushiro, please, talk to me." He rocked him gently back and forth, waiting until the tears waxed and waned and his shaking turned to gentle shivers.
"It's... It's this damned rug. I'm sorry, Shinseki. Between what we were... And the stupid rug..." He struggled to tell him without having to repeat all the visions back through his memory, without having to pull all his recent dreams back through his mind. "It was a long time ago, but sometimes it feels like no time at all... I can't-" His voice broke and tears threatened to fall again.
"Sssh... It's okay, you don't have to explain. You don't have to say anything." He rubbed in soothing circles on Izzy's back, trying to make his ragged breathing subside. "First, let's get the hell away from this rug. Then we can try and get some sleep." He helped Izzy unsteadily to his feet and was given a cautious smile as a reward.
God, he was just too beautiful and perfect. That gorgeous little smile... GOD - he was suddenly so angry but he didn't let it leak through his comforting eyes.
Whatever it was, someone had hurt him. Someone had forced him- How could he live with it? How much pain had he been through?
These were all questions that stirred madly in his head. Questions he wanted answers to, but wisely left unsaid.
Another time...
Meanwhile, he would be sure to burn the eyesore rug at his first opportunity.

One cream, one sugar, a few swirls with his stir-stick.
Scritch, scritch.
Shinseki brought the scalding beverage to his lips, trying to sort the pieces of his mind into some sort of semblance as he started his day.
Koushiro. Koushiro and he had...
A giddy little smile painted his face. He'd woken up cradling an angel, a beautiful redhead crafted from porcelain. His eyes closed as he remembered the soft smell of sweat on his skin, watched his delicate eyelids flutter in sleep.
And he remembered the tears that coursed from those lovely eyes only a few hours before. Shinseki's brows knit.
He would get to the bottom of this. It would take coaxing, and patience, and most importantly, trust. But in the end, he would find out exactly WHO had hurt his Koushiro.
The steam from the coffee cup caressed his skin, clearing his mind. He had one primary suspect, one villain in the forefront of his thoughts. He carefully set down his untouched coffee and set about finding that person and treating them to a morning of hell.
Lovely visions of vengeance flowed through his mind.

At first glance, the black-haired man did not appear to be in the communal holding cell. He nodded to get the attention of an attending guard.
"Ichijouji - where's he been taken?" The guard's eyebrows cocked quizzically.
"...Don't you know?" The guard's sarcastic response slid easily from his mouth.
"No. Care to enlighten me?"
"The morgue."
Shinseki's eyes flew open. Shock flooded through his system. Who the hell needed coffee?
"You're joking me? When? What happened?"
"Those two wannabe Yakuza jumped him last night. Bashed his fucking brains in with the toilet seat", he continued, unruffled. "Splattered them all over the floor. Was a bitch to clean up."
He couldn't believe it - dead? No, there must be some mixup. His thoughts were jumping on top of each other, faster than his lips could hope to process.
"Bashed his brains in - killed?"
"Yeah, that's generally what happens when someone's skull splits open." The guard's continuing nonchalance was lost on Shinseki, whose mind was racing. "I sent what's left of him over to the ME."
His feet began plodding back up the stairs to his office, on autopilot.
Ichijouji - dead? From all their interviews, he thought for sure he was too street-smart, too aloof, to let himself get dragged into a fight with other inmates. Perhaps it was an old vendetta, and he was locked in with the wrong guys? Were the bruises from his arms two days ago a precursor to last night?
God, who knows... Anything could have set some of the looser cannons off and if the guards weren't looking... He cringed inadvertently, imagining the horror of being trapped with your enemies with no hope of escape.
Shinseki sat down at his desk and his hand automatically reached for his half-full coffee cup. As he brought it mechanically to his lips, a picture of gore painted his thoughts. Pink brain matter mixed with blood, adorning a plastic toilet seat. Eyes bulging in terror, questioning why... He set the coffee cup down shakily, nausea threatening to creep into his throat.
No, Ichijouji couldn't be dead. Fate wouldn't allow it! He would never get the chance now to interrogate that sack of crap. It must be a mix up.
He would never be able to extract the truth from him from about Koushiro, to break him down, to pick apart all his secrets.
He didn't dare think it, but it was all too true: he would never be able to prove he was the better man.

Someone had already done the honor, spilling his secrets, his pink entrails, all across the cement floor.
His fingers reached for the phone, dialing the ME's number by heart.
"Honda speaking."
"Doctor Honda, this is Detective Abe with Homicide. I was informed one of my suspects was beaten to death in holding last night. You have his body in your possession, I assume?" Her speech was crisp and professional, every inch the woman she was.
"Certainly. Ichijouji, I expect? I was about to begin a cursory autopsy. You're welcome to help me with the paperwork if you'd like?" Some strange curiosity compelled him.
"Definitely. I'll be over there in 15 minutes."

Shinseki's Toyota Crown S180 police cruiser pulled into the first vacant spot at the Kitami Morgue. He was, in an immature and boyish fashion, quite proud of the car. It was unmarked and pure black, which earned it an instant 5 points. It had a 3.5 liter V6 under the hood which was paired with AWD for breath-stealing acceleration. There was a myriad of gadgets hooked to the console in various fashions, all designed for communication, but dressed to impress.
And it had big ugly tires attached to big, black, ugly steel wheels. The car reeked of duty-driven testosterone. God, he loved that car.
He carefully pulled it up in front of the cement parking stop, and killed the engine. As he exited and walked towards the building, he gave one last loving look to the car. He and the car were made for each other. They were one and the same, purpose built and driven. No one would understand, but he felt a deep connection to it, even if it were just a glorified heap of forged steel.

Entering the building, trying to push the reason that brought him here from his mind, he made his way quickly through hallways. All the hallways, painted in American 1950's avocado green, led him to the back of the building. The very, very back, where the examination/autopsy room lay. It was adjacent to the cold storage locker in the utmost back of the building, and Shinseki had visited this room many times in the past.
His legs were again on autopilot.
Pushing the door open, he was greeted by Dr Honda, fully decorated in her trademark blue scrubs.
"Detective Abe." He nodded politely in greeting as his gaze wound its way to the body on the metal table.
Where Ichijouji lay.
Where Hiromiya had lain.

He let his eyes take a cursory trip over the white sheet, the bumps in the cloth inferring hips, arms, chest. Pristine white feet stuck out at one end and at the other...
At the other lay a disfigured pile of tissue. It resembled a head, but it stopped somewhere in the middle, where one would normally place a nose. The rest was a demented Picasso.
The bile again teased his esophagus.
No. No, if he did not give in when a good man, a priest lay on this table, he would not give in for a murderer.

Because that's exactly what he was and exactly what Shinseki was determined to label him as. So what if he didn't rape Hiromiya? So what if he didn't kill him? It was his intention, it was his aim.
How fitting that his disfigured form now graced the same table.
"Just a general inspection this time, Detective." Doctor Honda did not flip on the microphone, did not record the proceedings. This was a suspect, a blight on society. Best to simply run down the checklist and continue on to the next, more deserving soul.
She did not pull out her retractors. She did not use her bone saw. She pointed at Abe and then at a notepad on the instrument table. He quickly picked it up, happy for the distraction.
"Trauma is indicative of blunt force. Area above the septum was the recipient of the most force. Pieces..." She bent over, grabbing a forceps without looking and beginning to explore the mixture of bone and fat. "Pieces... Shards of what appear to be white plastic are embedded in the post-cranial area. Correction - trauma is indicative of extreme blunt force."
Shinseki jotted furiously, grateful for a distraction at this theatre of death, despite the fact he'd invited himself.
"Cranial area is completely warped. She drew a frustrated arm over her brow as she stood, erect, shoulders back, the image of finality. "It is the opinion of this office that the victim died of blunt force trauma and no further investigation is warranted."