Work Text
Kaoru was in high demand at the Toudou group’s end of year black tie blowout. Segregation of the primary and secondary secretary administrations was temporarily suspended in the glittering ballroom of a hotel Kaoru knew all too well, as a year’s worth of corporate anxiety was released in a flood of free booze. If the men of the primary longed for a simple karaoke machine, they knew better than to admit it in front of the women of the secondary, who smiled dreamily as they swayed in their finest to the swing band’s festive sound. Once Kaoru invited his chief counterpart onto the floor and dipped her low, the congregation sighed in admiration—and no little despair among the less coordinated of the primary’s workforce—Kaoru’s figurative dance card was filled and his reputation as Toudou’s young noble cemented.Not bad, Kaoru thought hours later, when he finally escaped to the balcony for a cigarette break, for someone who hadn’t danced since moving home to Tokyo. Clearly Daigo's dick was keeping him in shape. The evening was overcast and a bitter wind skidded between the high rises, drying the sweat at Kaoru’s brow. He checked his phone, but there was no text from Daigo. It was Christmas morning in New York. Daigo's father would be with his family.“Tell me that’s not Dad in the Santa suit?”Kaoru looked up from his phone to find Kazuki in the doorway, his face filled with consternation. Kazuki was late as hell and as usual he wore no tie, so Kaoru couldn’t strangle him unless he wanted to use his bare hands. Since they were occupied with more important things, like smoking and fretting over Daigo, Kazuki was safe for another day.Still, Kaoru smiled slyly. “I don’t know if I should be the one to tell you this, but perhaps you’re old enough to know the truth now. I’m afraid Santa Claus is not real. It was your father all along.”“You’re an asshole,” said Kazuki. He shut the door behind him and leant against the balustrade beside Kaoru, lighting a cigarette of his own. “Seriously, that can’t be Dad, right? He’s shameless.”Through the window, Kaoru took in the spectacle of two tipsy, tuxedo-clad workmates perched unknowingly on their president’s knees. “Toudou-shachou has indeed been holding court all evening in that disguise,” he admitted with resignation. He’d helped pad the tummy himself, and applied the rosy cheeks. Hopefully for the sake of the company’s dignity, the president wouldn’t be recognized by anyone else beneath the flowing white beard. “It could be worse. At least it’s not Chiharu.” God, what a thought.“I know that much,” said Kazuki, scoffing. “Why do you think I’m so late?”“He’s still at the office?”“C’mon, you know better than anyone what a workaholic Chiharu is,” said Kazuki. “I guess he figures someone has to make sure it doesn’t fall down.” “Oh, is that what you two were doing?” Kaoru eyed the fresh love bites revealed by Kazuki’s open-neck shirt. “I’m amazed the office is still standing.”“You’re one to talk. Like you wouldn’t do the same if the Mercury office was deserted,” said Kazuki, blowing smoke defiantly. “Or even if it wasn’t. It’s a funny coincidence the bonenkai’s being held at this particular hotel this year. I wonder who organized that, hm? How come you haven’t escaped upstairs to your usual room by now? Or is Daigo not back from New York yet?”“No, he’s not,” Kaoru replied. He stubbed out his cigarette, thought about checking his phone, then lit a second. “Is Chiharu at least taking time off for the new year?”“He’s coming to the house, Dad’s insistence,” said Kazuki. “Shouta will be there. I’ve made the cutest little pochibukuro for him. It’s covered in takoyaki, and when you open it up all these tiny tentacles wiggle out. He’s gonna die.”“I hope money falls out too?”“Pft, of course,” said Kazuki. “What kind of cheapskate uncle do you take me for? Besides, kid’s going to be buried in boring money, I’ve got to do something a little different. I wonder if he wants to play kites? I don’t think I ever did that when I was a kid.”“Maybe you did with Chiharu,” Kaoru suggested. “Understandable if you’ve blocked the horror out.”“Does your cousin seem like a kite-flying man to you?”“Not in the slightest,” said Kaoru. “But he’s done stranger things for you.”“Maybe I’ll fish out some karuta cards, just to see him get really feisty,” said Kazuki, laughing. “Anyhow, Yuuhi’s promised to make osechi, so the food’s going to be fantastic. I can’t wait. Yuuhi’s such a good mom. New Year’s actually going to be good this year.”“Especially if your father puts on his Santa suit again,” said Kaoru, nodding towards the ballroom, where the president was now squiring one of his unsuspecting staffers across the dancefloor.“Can we have him arrested? I must be adopted,” Kazuki groaned. He turned away from the windows, staring out at the illuminated city. “So when’s Daigo back?”“Not until the 31st.” Kaoru took a deep draw, proud of keeping the misery from his voice even if the shivery exhale of smoke betrayed him. Kazuki wasn’t watching anyhow. “Daigo always spends New Year with his mother.”“So you don’t get to see him until we’re back at work? Harsh.” “No, I’ll see him all right,” said Kaoru. “I’m picking him up at Narita and driving him home.”“Home—you mean to his mother?”“Yes.”“To stay for the holidays?”“Yes.”“Whoa.” Kazuki whistled. “Does she know about you two?”“I—” Daigo hadn’t really said much about it before he left for the US, or perhaps Kaoru had just been come-drunk and had missed some vital element of the discussion. Which wasn’t like him, ordinarily speaking, but Daigo had a proven detrimental effect on Kaoru’s reasoning capability. It was troubling. “I understand he tells his mother everything.”“Hell.” Kazuki shuddered visibly, expressing the trepidation Kaoru wouldn’t voice.His phone chimed softly. Kaoru let his second cigarette burn down to the filter, felt it singe his knuckles before he flicked it away. Kazuki looked away with a courtesy unlike him, and Kaoru checked his messages.
No Kaoru in my bed. Santa didn’t come :(((
Kaoru texted back, That’s what you get for being such a bad boy. He tucked his phone away again, straightened his bow-tie and gave Kazuki a prod. “Come on, lazy, back to work.”“Only because I’m freezing my balls off out here,” said Kazuki, dragging his feet. “Urgh, half these women have sucked Chiharu’s cock. It makes me want to punch him.”“Forget about it,” Kaoru said, holding the door for Kazuki. “That’s what bonenkai’s all about.” Narita was crammed with New Year’s travelers but Kaoru had no trouble finding Daigo in the arrivals lobby. Even among so many foreigners Daigo stood out, towering sternly above the milling crowd in a bespoke charcoal three piece and ruby necktie, his dark majesty seemingly untouched by the fourteen hour flight. Then his chiseled features softened as he bent low to help a frantic elderly couple with their toppling bags, his coat sweeping about him like a superhero’s cape even as he waved away their thanks with a bashful grin. Emboldened, another grandma and grandpa solicited Daigo's aid with a recalcitrant cart; they clapped in excitement as he slayed the beast with a swift kick to its back wheel before righting the ensuing landslide of luggage. Kaoru hadn’t laid eyes nor hands on Daigo in nearly two weeks. He could be patient up to a point, but that point did not include a doe-eyed young lady begging directions from Narita’s newest baggage handler. Kaoru tacked through the crowd until he found himself at Daigo’s broad back, where he tugged at his half-belt like a lost child, then lay a scarf about his shoulders. “It’s cold out there.”Daigo turned, his new fans forgotten. Kaoru stared up at him. Up close, he could see the expected shadows beneath Daigo's eyes, the grey cast of weariness that matched his own. “It couldn’t be as cold as New York was,” said Daigo.Kaoru scowled, then turned on his heel, sheering off toward the nearest restroom. The din of arrival announcements and tearful reunions faded; he felt Daigo following in his wake. In the restroom, one man was pissing in a urinal, another was brushing his teeth. Kaoru passed them and entered the last stall in the row. It looked clean, although Kaoru didn’t care if it was filthy. Daigo locked the stall door behind him. Kaoru rounded on him, pressing him against the door. Daigo yielded, his breath sighing out as his brow dropped to touch Kaoru’s own. He smelled like toothpaste and a 747’s worth of other people. He was supposed to smell like Lark cigarettes and Kaoru. Kaoru rubbed catlike at Daigo's freshly shaved face, marking him, and said, “You’re probably desperate for a smoke.”“Only desperate for you, Kaoru-chan,” Daigo replied. His lips grazed the spare lines of Kaoru’s jaw, the hollow cheeks; Kaoru grew thinner in Daigo's absence, starved of sleep and sustenance. But the year was nearly done now. “Promise me you haven’t been practising that shitty line the whole flight?” Kaoru asked lightly, baring his neck for Daigo's mouth.“I tried it out on everyone in business class,” said Daigo. He hooked a finger in Kaoru’s tie, tugging it loose to suck a deep bruise over Kaoru’s quicksilver pulse, then whispered in his ear, “Only the best efforts for my drama queen.”Kaoru clutched at Daigo's own tie, steadying himself as he imagined it tightened about Daigo's wrists, imagined Daigo laid out in their bed in room #2711: a trusting and tractable weight beneath Kaoru, the only still point Kaoru knew.Instead they were going home.Kaoru loosened his grip, raking his hands down Daigo's lapels and below as he dropped to his knees, too urgent for grace. Daigo's dick was already hard beneath his trousers, a crude disruption to the otherwise elegant train of his tailoring. He groaned an indistinct, almost animal sound as Kaoru unfastened his buttons and drew his dick free, letting the elastic of his underwear snap back with cruel deliberation. Kaoru cupped Daigo's dick in his hand, rubbing the length of it across his cheeks, testing its heft, its heady scent. Kaoru’s mouth watered for it. His fingers ached. He stroked urgently at Daigo's dick, thumbing the foreskin down and tonguing at the blunt tip until it was swollen and wet. Kaoru knew Daigo's dick well. He let it sit heavy on the flat of his tongue, then tapped it thoughtfully against his bottom lip while he stared up at Daigo's reddened face, regarding him from beneath artful lowered lashes. “You jerked off on the plane.”“I couldn’t wait,” Daigo replied. He held Kaoru’s cheek in one great hand, his thumb gently tracing Kaoru’s hot skin. The other hand was already lost beneath the thick layers of his suit; Kaoru could almost feel the merciless pinch at his own nipple.“You should have,” said Kaoru. If there was punishment to be meted out, Kaoru was more than capable. He plucked Daigo's delicate frenulum between finger and thumb, digging his thumbnail in hard until Daigo's head thudded back against the toilet door with a futile, pained gasp. “This isn’t yours to play with anymore. It’s mine.”“I know,” Daigo breathed. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to. I just couldn’t stop thinking about you, waiting for me, and you see what happens. Kaoru!”“I’ll forgive you,” Kaoru said, relenting with a smile. He blew gently at the sore spot, gratified by Daigo's repentance and more than eager to reclaim his territory.“Kaoru!” Daigo pleaded again, his thumb dropping to touch Kaoru’s mouth.“Shush, we’re in a public place,” Kaoru said, patting at Daigo's worsted-covered balls with a soothing hand. “Now fuck my mouth quickly, and don’t make a mess. Your mother’s waiting.”“Even that can’t kill my hard-on,” Daigo groaned. “You’re a wonder.”By the time they emerged from the restroom, Daigo's abandoned suitcase was being eyed suspiciously by security. Daigo had to do the talking, since Kaoru’s throat was too raw, but luckily one of the grandmas was still about and had more than enough to say on the subject of Daigo's heroic qualities. They left Narita without being arrested for terrorism or public indecency. Kaoru’s car was his sleek and silver baby. It was too mean for Daigo's enormous build, but that just gave Daigo an excuse to lay his head against Kaoru’s headrest and tuck a hand between Kaoru’s thighs. Kaoru, despite a lifetime’s standoffishness, was surprisingly okay with that.Daigo's mother lived about a half hour’s drive from the airport. Kaoru had studied the directions and programmed the route into his GPS. He had filled his gas tank, checked the pressure of his tyres, and cleaned the crap off his back seat. He took a swig from his water bottle, washing the taste of come from his mouth. He had nothing at all to worry about.“I thought you loved driving,” Daigo said.“I do,” Kaoru replied. He’d often taken his pissed-off teenaged rebellion to the expressways of Tokyo, racing with the other rev-heads until Chiharu put an end to it. Now he was a respectable businessman, he obeyed the road rules.Mostly, anyway. He still wouldn’t say no if Daigo gave him a handy.“You feel a little tense.” The hand on Kaoru’s thigh squeezed meaningfully and Kaoru flinched. Perhaps he’d say no after all. Perhaps he was getting old. “I can drive if you’d like.”“As if I’d let you drive my car.” Kaoru rolled his head from side to side, trying to force the stiffness from his muscles.“So mean, Kaoru-chan,” said Daigo. “You should learn to share. I’d be so gentle.” The house was a simple, single-story dwelling behind a neat wooden fence on a quiet suburban street. Kaoru felt ill-equipped for its ordinariness. A pretty pair of bamboo and pine kadomatsu sat at either side of the front gate; the last of the afternoon sun picked out the characters on the name plate: Daigo. The name was celebrated here. “I didn’t grow up in this house,” Daigo said as he hauled their cases out of the trunk. “We used to live in this tiny apartment downtown. I helped Mom get this place a few years ago. She wanted a little garden of her own.”“A traditional garden?” There was a bare cherry tree in the yard, and a number of lush camellias. Kaoru saw a curtain twitch in the front window. They’d been spotted.“Hell no, she grows veggies,” said Daigo, as he started up the path. “Well, there is a pond—it took us ages to make, I nearly broke my back—but there’s no goldfish left since she adopted the cat. I showed you the video of Jiro, right?”There were now at least sixteen videos of Jiro on-line, engaged in various adorable forms of destruction, but Kaoru didn’t quibble. He was fond of cats but had never had one of his own. His mother didn’t like pets.He grabbed their laptops and locked up, although the neighborhood looked honest. A grandma strode past with her shopping, giving him a nod. Two small boys ran down the street, kicking a soccer ball between them; they pointed at Kaoru’s car, making appreciative noises: a new generation of rev-heads. Kaoru followed Daigo up the path. Daigo's mother flung the door open before they could remove their coats, and Daigo dropped everything to pick her up in his arms. She looked half his size, a dainty child batting at his shoulders in smiling complaint at his heavy-handedness. Then a flash of white darted between Daigo's legs, and she smacked him for real. “Ah, catch that cat!”Kaoru dropped reflexively, stopping Jiro’s escape. It was an awkward catch and he received a sharp swipe across his hand for his troubles, but once Kaoru got computers and cat juggled securely Jiro nuzzled at his ear and had no further complaint.“Oh, thank you, Kirishima-kun,” Daigo's mother said. She had Daigo's smile. “Come in, please. There’s bound to be fireworks tonight and I don’t want him outside.”“You worry too much, Mom,” said Daigo, putting her down with a grin. They shuffled into the foyer and got the door shut safe and sound; Daigo rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly. “Mom, this is Kirishima Kaoru.”“It’s such a pleasure to meet you,” she said. She looked like she truly meant it. Like Daigo, she left her polite mask outside.Kaoru bowed, resisting the instinctive urge to present his business card. Instead he handed her a small gift bag. “Thank you for having me in your home, Daigo-san.”“You shouldn’t have,” she said, her smile wide with approval. Daigo was putting on an enormous pair of house slippers; a smaller, newer pair lay nearby, clearly intended for Kaoru. Kaoru put down the cat, who twined cheerfully about his legs as he removed his shoes. The entryway was decked with a shimenawa and a kagami-mochi; Jiro bore a strong resemblance to the new year’s cake, bar the mikan on top. Kaoru brushed at his trousers; he could see he would spend much of this visit engaged in fur removal.“Put the bags in your room, Mikihisa,” his mother ordered. “I’ll put on some tea. Do you want grilled cheese?”“Yes, please,” Daigo replied. He led Kaoru to one of the front rooms, where a double futon lay on the floor. Did she know about them or not? Kaoru wanted to lie down with Daigo and soak him up. But tea was waiting. He handed off his overcoat and jacket; Daigo hung them together with his own in a mostly empty closet, along with the scarf Kaoru had given him. “Mom must have been cleaning like mad. Normally I have to navigate a barrage of books and seed packets and dust bunnies. The place looks immaculate.”“For my sake?” Kaoru asked. The sun was gone now, but still he could see how the window’s glass gleamed. A maidenhair frothed in its clay pot on the sill, inviting the eye, the gentle fingertips. Jiro trotted in to inspect Daigo's case, inviting the same.“Well, it’s not for mine,” Daigo said, with blithe unconcern. “Ready?” They sat at a warm kotatsu, where Daigo gathered up mystery novels and a sudoku in progress to make way for the teapot and a plate heaped with grilled cheese. Kaoru wasn’t certain his stomach was up for cheese, but he nibbled a delicious dorayaki while Daigo wolfed the toast down.“You must make yourself at home, Kirishima-kun,” said Daigo's mother, pouring the tea. “Please don’t feel you must stand on ceremony. “Have you been napping under the kotatsu again?” asked Daigo, as he brandished a wrinkled sock in accusation.“How else will I stay awake for the bells?” she said, snatching it off him and tucking it back under the table. “You know I’m used to early hours. Did Mikihisa tell you I work in a bakery?”“He told me you own the bakery,” Kaoru replied. If the dorayaki was any indication, she must be popular.“Oh, well,” she blustered quietly, “that’s all thanks to Mikihisa. Mikihisa, don’t go overboard, I was thinking of making tempura tonight since you’re both here.”“I’ll make room,” promised Daigo, patting his belly. “I’ve been looking forward to your soba all year.”“There’s no point making tempura for one,” she told Kaoru confidingly, “but for three—it’s practically law. What a lucky thing it is to have company. I’ve had so many lovely carrots out of my garden this year, and lots of spinach and parsley and green onions and cabbage too. Such a surplus! Satomi-san at the fishmonger’s swapped me some shrimp for a sack of my greens and there were sweet potatoes going cheap at the grocer’s—”“It’s all food all the time around here,” said Daigo, after swallowing a mouthful of toast. “They’re all after this bread of hers too, it’s so good. There’s lots of wheeling and dealing goes on among the local shopkeeps—you think Toudou’s hardcore, you haven’t seen anything.”“He mocks, but you just wait until you see the osechi I’ve thrown together for tomorrow,” she said sternly.“I look forward to it,” Kaoru replied. “I usually just buy something ready-made.”She tsked. “Next thing you’ll be telling me you eat cup noodles. Mikihisa doesn’t cook either.”“Mom takes her holiday food seriously,” said Daigo, scooping up a dorayaki. “Thank god she doesn’t make me pound mochi anymore. Last time we tried, she broke my little finger with the mallet.”“Mikihisa! Don’t tell Kirishima-kun stories like that,” she said, covering her reddened cheeks. “This terrible son of mine. He’ll never let me live it down.”“I’ll never play the violin again,” Daigo said glumly.“You never played to begin with,” she said, putting another cake in his mouth. “Not to worry, I received more than enough mochi from some of my more old-fashioned customers. They must think a baker starves. Kirishima-kun, between this 4am riser and this jet-lagged traveler—not to mention the mad cat trying to drink my tea, no, Jiro, hot!—it may be up to you to make certain the household stays awake for midnight.”“I’ll do my best,” said Kaoru, although he hadn’t slept properly in weeks.Perhaps it was obvious. Her eyes grew reflective. “Why don’t you boys have a bath together? You’ll be able to keep each other from drowning.” “It’s a good thing you’re here,” said Daigo later, as he sat naked on a bath stool while Kaoru rubbed shampoo into his scalp. Daigo tipped his head back, letting it roll gently between Kaoru’s hands; the wet strands of hair curled and clung at Kaoru’s fingers. “Hm?” Kaoru had never washed anyone’s hair before. It was strangely gratifying. He didn’t want to get it wrong.“Normally she’d bust in here to remind me not to leave hair in the bath,” said Daigo, “but I think she’ll resist given you’re here.”Because Kaoru wasn’t family. “You could’ve warned her I’m even more slovenly than you.”“Toudou’s young noble? Not possible.”“You know better than anyone that’s bullshit,” said Kaoru. “There’s a good reason we stay in a hotel.”“Mmm, because the romance is even hotter that way,” said Daigo. “Plus, we don’t want to live like hobos.”“Exactly.” “Although a pet would be nice,” Daigo added thoughtfully.“You can always pet me.” Kaoru rinsed the warm water over Daigo's head, raking his fingers through the sudsy hair as he tried to keep the shampoo from Daigo's eyes.Daigo moaned. “This is almost as good as your mouth on my dick.”Kaoru yanked. “Excuse me?”“I said almost!”“Your clarification is noted.”There came a sudden rap at the bathroom door, making them both jump in their skin. “Mikihisa, make sure you scoop your hair out of the bath when you’re done!”Daigo laughed, pulled Kaoru onto his lap, and whispered, “You’re practically family now. She won’t knock next year.”Kaoru stared at the inky strands of hair in his hand. He cuddled closer. Mother and son argued about whether to watch Johnny’s Countdown or Kohaku. Tradition won; the television was tuned to NHK. Kaoru didn’t mind. He couldn’t remember ever watching either.Daigo dogged his mother around the kitchen, getting underfoot as she bustled between fridge and counter, sink and stove. Kaoru too offered to help, but she booted them both out, brandishing her knife to show she meant business. They huddled together under the kotatsu instead, both laptops open as they tried to unravel the fresh hell Daigo's father had dropped in his lap. “I don’t care, though,” Daigo said. “So long as he’s given up matchmaking, the rest is easy.”“Did he try again?” asked Kaoru, flipping rapidly between spreadsheet tabs, straining not to show his interest in Daigo's answer.“Well, let’s just say I was invited to the family Christmas dinner to which a certain suitable cousin was invited,” said Daigo. His voice was weary. “I declined.”“Have you met them?” Kaoru asked. “Your brother and sisters?”“No.”“Do you want to?” The brother, the eldest, must be about sixteen.“I don’t know,” said Daigo. He slumped, rubbing at his eyes. “I’m—amenable?”“But not enthusiastic.”Daigo lowered his hands, meeting Kaoru’s troubled gaze steadily. “My life is here.”Daigo's mother came in with steaming bowls brimming with fragrant noodles and shrimp, and Daigo leapt to his feet to take the heavy tray. “You should have called me, Mom.”“Go grab the tempura, then, and make yourself useful,” she said. “And get some beer from the fridge!”“Okay,” Daigo called back.“You boys,” she sighed. “Why are you working?“Why are you working, Daigo-san?” Kaoru replied, moving the laptops off the kotatsu. “Cooking’s different,” she said stoutly. “I like cooking.”The toshikoshi did smell amazing. Kaoru, chastened but not entirely cowed, said, “I like spreadsheets.”Daigo reappeared with beers all round and a plate filled with mouth-watering, deep-fried vegetables. “Mom, you’ve outdone yourself. These look perfect.”“Better than KFC, huh?” she said. She passed Kaoru some chopsticks. “I ordered him to eat fried chicken on Christmas Eve, you know. It’s very important to maintain holiday traditions.”“Yes, Mom, I sat alone like the saddest sack in America at a KFC on 2nd Ave and spent Christmas Eve with the Colonel, just for you,” said Daigo, blowing at his soba. “Do you know how hard it is to find a KFC in New York? I was their only customer.”“You poor, stale Christmas cake,” she said. She rummaged under the table and pulled out a cell phone. “Look, Kirishima-kun, I have photographic proof.”“No phones at dinner, Mom, your rules,” Daigo groaned. “Kaoru doesn’t need to witness my shame.”The KFC selfie was just as embarrassing as Kaoru might have hoped. “Forward it to me, please, Daigo-san?”“With pleasure,” she said. “Now eat up before it gets cold. Jiro darling, do you need a shrimp?” The year crossed, but the old nightmare woke Kaoru. His tears dampened Daigo's chest beneath him.Kaoru stumbled from the futon, not entirely certain where he was. A warm line of light showed him the doorway. He crept out, his bare feet moving quietly, carefully across the tatami. He knuckled at his wet eyes, following the glow, fearful of what he would find.She was there, her hair unpinned and flowing wild across her shoulders. His belly lurched.She smiled. “Can’t sleep?”Kaoru swallowed. “Bad dream.”“Come and sit with me,” she said softly. “I’ll make you a cup of tea too.”He sat down at the warm kotatsu and tucked his legs beneath. A soft mew greeted him; a chill nose touched his toe. Jiro, safe from errant fireworks. On the table beside an open book lay a small netsuke carving of a lion, not a proper Chinese-style shishi, but a true lion. It reminded him of Daigo.“It’s beautiful,” she said, when she returned with fresh tea. The scent of ginger settled his stomach. “A thoughtful gift.”“It’s nothing,” he said, warming his hands against his cup. Jiro emerged, a small white lion, rampant, making bread out of Kaoru’s thigh.“I try to sleep in during the holiday but it just doesn’t happen,” she said. “4am and no baking to be done. I hardly know what to do with myself. You see where he gets it from. It’s in the blood.”There were worse things to have in one’s blood. Nightmare things. “He worries about you.”“He worries about me, I worry about him.” She sipped her tea. “My health is much improved nowadays. Self-employment is a wonderful thing, but delegation is even better. He’ll figure it out.”“Figure out what?” said a grumpy voice behind them. Daigo stood there, bleary-eyed and swaying, trailed by bedding.“That your mother’s always right,” she said, laughing softly as Daigo dropped down beside Kaoru and wrapped his blanket around them both.“Mmm, I know that already,” Daigo grumbled. He sniffed at Kaoru’s tea and winced. “Why are we all up so early? Kaoru-chan, I want to sleep. Why did you leave me all alone?”“I’m sorry,” said Kaoru, brushing the tangle of hair from Daigo's petulant face.“It’s hard to sleep in a strange place,” Daigo's mother suggested. She raised her own hand to stroke the wrinkle from her son’s brow.“This place isn’t strange at all,” said Daigo. His head dropped heavily upon Kaoru’s shoulder and he rubbed at Kaoru’s belly, his touch tender for all his sleepy clumsiness. “Kaoru-chan’s just had too many noodles. Let’s wait for sunrise, then we’ll go back to bed.” Somehow the sun rose on a new year and they slept the rest of the morning away, until Daigo's mother hustled them into action. “I want to make a shrine visit, boys,” she cried. “Up and at ‘em.”Kaoru dressed with care while Daigo watched avidly, his eyes like embers. “I was wondering why you’d packed so much for one night. Now I know.”“Now you know,” Kaoru agreed. He preened in the dark mossy green kimono, smiling at Daigo from over his shoulder. “You said your mother liked to go trad for the holiday.” “You are such an unrepentant show pony,” said Daigo. He prowled about Kaoru, his thoroughly modern three piece in stark contrast to Kaoru’s traditional dress. “Damnit, I want to fuck you so hard right now. Why are you torturing me like this?”Kaoru smoothed the lines of his misty laurel hakama. “Help me with the obi. I need you to make it tighter.”“You’re a monster,” Daigo said bitterly. He stood behind Kaoru and adjusted the silken sash, pulling it firm across Kaoru’s belly, forcing a shallow gasp and a wide smile from Kaoru.“Kirishima-kun!” Kaoru turned to find Daigo's mother in the doorway, garbed elegantly in a raspberry red homongi. “Oh, but you’re a sight for sore eyes.”“Thank you, ma’am,” Kaoru replied. Perhaps he would sleep better tonight. “Won’t you call me Kaoru?” They returned to make a hearty meal of osechi ryori—herring roe and anchovies, kurikinton and sweet omelet and burdock root, the bite of vinegar and the sweetness of dried persimmon—and so much mochi-filled zoni Kaoru thought he would burst. Daigo loosened his obi with a smirk and a silent promise, and Kaoru raised his sake glass, a promise in return.“New Year is good for business,” Daigo's mother said, chuckling at their bloated bellies. “By the time the shops are open again, everyone’s so sick of mochi that they’re craving fresh bread.”“A toast to you, Mom,” said Daigo, grinning. “I’m very happy to start the year with my two favorite people beside me.”“I’m happy if you’re happy, my darling,” she replied, somewhat tipsily, “and I must say you seem very happy.”She read her New Year cards aloud to them. Some made her laugh—there was one from Daigo's school friend Miyamoto, whose handwriting proved so execrable Daigo had to text him for a translation, then text him again to tell him to stop texting so much, it was ruining his calligraphy. Some made her cry—there was nothing from her parents, but her own old school friends reported in with all their news. “They are such a stubborn pair, Kaoru-kun. They still haven’t forgiven me after nearly three decades. Three! They’ve been crosser with me longer than they ever knew me. It’s absurd. I hope they’ll forgive me by the time you turn thirty, Mikihisa, it would be only proper. You’re such a fine son.”“I hope so for your sake, Mom, but it’s their loss if they don’t,” said Daigo.“Do you send your parents a card, Daigo-san?” Kaoru asked curiously.“Of course!” she said. “Just because they kicked me out of the family, that’s no excuse for rudeness.”“Mom, you are such a trouble-maker,” said Daigo. “Come on, you just do it to annoy them.”“Pft.” She downed another glass of sake and offered Jiro some cuttlefish to crunch on. The cat was more spoilt than Daigo.Kaoru’s phone chimed with a message from Kazuki. Attached was a Toudou family portrait—and it was the whole family, not just Kazuki and the president, but the prodigal Professor of Archaeology as well.There was nothing wrong with a little trouble-making, after all. Kaoru let Daigo drive them back to the hotel, since it was difficult to find the pedals wearing hakama and zori and Daigo wouldn’t let him change. Kaoru considered it a generous concession on his part. Daigo called him a fiend.In the familiar peace of room #2711 Daigo pushed him to their bed and unwrapped him urgently, stripping him to his skin. He twisted Kaoru’s silken obi between his hands, letting it trail like icy water across Kaoru’s panting chest. He smiled as Kaoru’s nipples pebbled painfully. “Are you going to dance with me?”Kaoru swallowed, and nodded; his belly was well-fed and his heart full, but he needed so much more from Daigo. Daigo straddled him, fully dressed, looping the sash through the head of the bed and then pulling the ends taut. There was more than enough length for play, but playtime was done. Daigo wrapped Kaoru’s wrists above his head and tied them off.Kaoru sobbed. Daigo stared down at him, his expression tender, watchful as he thumbed at Kaoru’s trembling mouth and waited for a refusal from his contrary lover. Kaoru wouldn’t give it, didn’t need it—“I own this hotel now, Kaoru-chan, did you know?” Daigo unbuttoned his trousers and offered his swollen dick to Kaoru; Kaoru strained for it but couldn’t reach, the silk binds holding him just out of reach. Daigo knelt closer, bracing himself with his palms against the wall. He fed his dick into Kaoru’s mouth, gagging Kaoru’s wet cries. “I want us to have a home.” Kaoru suckled at him, hungry and desperate, forced to take only what Daigo gave him. Daigo plunged his dick between Kaoru’s lips, coaxing them wider, wetter. His thighs rasped against Kaoru’s heaving ribs, caging him; Kaoru could feel him shaking, even beneath the suit. Kaoru pulled hard at his bindings, clutching at the slippery silk with clenched, frantic fingers. There was give, not much, but enough. Just enough to hold him.His own dick lurched untouched, a hot spray of come across his shivering belly.“Fiend.” Daigo laughed raggedly. “Always got to have your way.” His voice wracked, Daigo plugged Kaoru’s pliant mouth, grinding out his own orgasm down Kaoru’s throat. “Whether I’m made heir of Mercury or cut loose for good, it doesn’t matter. I won’t let you go.”