RP log; Bunta and Taki, this digressed quickly
date: Friday, June 30th
rating: NC-17
summary: Taki treats Bunta to an unexpectedly lavish night at the opera - things pretty much go downhill from there. :D;
There was something about a truly fantastic chandelier that could steal Bunta’s attention and hold onto it - the intricate workings of each dangling piece of glass, hanging weightlessly from the massive, but elegant twining metal arms - he could have never left the foyer and been already impressed and entertained. Of course, he reminded himself, pulling his coat about his shoulders, it was not about the pretty danglies in the ceiling, it was about the opera - Carmen - and sharing said production with a man who would appreciate it as he did.
Naturally, he was rewarded for his effort in getting Taki to go out like a normal human being - the younger man looked quite handsome in a tux. Which, of course, paled in comparison to the pleasure of his company, but Bunta kept these thoughts to himself, instead slipping his arm through Taki’s, his fingers settling on the inside of the sniper’s elbow. “You’ll have to show me where this box of ours is - I’m afraid I’m not familiar enough with this venue to navigate.” …And despite the nature of his words, there was a certain level of fondness that did leak out as he spoke.
This Taki Haginosuke man was many things - among them, troubled and lost - but he was before all, in Bunta’s eyes, invaluable. Whether he saw it or not, Taki brought some light back to the eyes of a tired and irritated man.
Fiddling with his bow tie for the umpteenth time already that night, Taki didn't register Bunta's query at first as he was reading some historical plaque on the wall. But the strong yet gentle fingers on his elbow did and he turned to the older man with a happy smile on his face. He didn't know how Bunta did it, but could bring the expression from him easily, and more importantly the feeling behind it too. "It can't be far," a casual shrug as he stepped closer and let slim finger tips rest for a moment on the analyst's hip before his hand fell to his side. "There's time yet, I guess we can have a little adventure finding it." Taki said lightly.
In truth, Taki knew perfectly well where it was he just felt in a rather playful mood tonight. Plus he wanted Bunta to have fun tonight. There had been something in those light violet eyes when they met for dinner that worried him. Whatever it had been it was gone now and Taki wanted to keep it that way. Maybe it had just been one of those days at work; god knows they all had them.
Steering and walking them both in the direction of a grand staircase, he glanced across at Bunta. "I also went and added a few little extra's to the box, hope you like them."
"Extras?" inquired the analyst, amusement dancing across his features. With a tilt of his head, Bunta commented coyly, "I do love a good surprise." His hand migrated up to clench under Taki's upper arm, before traveling back down to take hold of his hand. He knew the number of their box -- but that only gave him vague direction... perhaps that could be part of the fun of the surprise, too, though.
He glanced at somewhat unhelpful placards on the wall that gave only minimal direction as to where they should go - at least up on flight of stairs. "You know exactly where we're supposed to be, don't you, you fox?" Chuckling, the shorter man shook his head. "That's half the fun of it, isn't it?"
"May~be," Taki answered with a grin as he steered them too the left and up another narrower flight of steps covered with a luxurious thick red carpet. It was probably silly but sometimes Taki just liked to forget who he was and want he did and just indulge in lighthearted games like a normal twenty-something. Letting his fingers slide and lace between Bunta's he continued to lead him down an empty corridor decorated with dark burnished wood, gold candelabras and soft lighting.
Bunta had suggested somewhere more private, and you couldn't really get more private than this at an opera house. Well, save having your own personal performance and there were limits to just how many strings he could pull. Finally coming to the end of the corridor, Taki offered the redhead a somewhat shy smile he pulled a key from his jacket pocket. "They usually only use this box for really special people, VIP's, that kinda stuff. But luckily I know the manager here and he owed me a favor." Slipping the shiny brass key into the lock and turning it, Taki pushed the door open and stood to one side to let Bunta precede him. " Champagne on ice, fresh strawberries and possible the best view in the house."
Thanking Taki quietly for holding the door, Bunta stepped inside, pushing aside heavy curtains, and was met with - as promised - a spectacular view. It was far enough from the stage that he could see the whole stage, but not so far as to make him wonder how ants were able to produce such amazing sounds. Practically perfect. There were only two seats in the box, two sets of opera glasses, two glasses, a bottle of champagne on ice, and strawberries that looked freshly washed in a chilled silver basin with the stems cut off. It was... well. It was enough to stir up something in Bunta - he was impressed, and not only impressed, but also somewhat touched that Taki had gone to such lengths for his sake.
There were plenty of rich and handsome doctors out there, Bunta was certain of it - but he was glad to be the one that had caught Taki's attention.
"This is wonderful," he murmured, his voice barely carrying over the din of the audience filling their seats. He turned back to Taki, taking hold of his jacket by either side of the collar, and compelled him closer, pressing a soft kiss to the corner of his mouth. "Thank you. This is truly amazing." He paused a moment to take in the pleasant smell of Taki's shampoo - a smell made so much more pleasant without the dry haze of smoke clinging to it - before moving away with a warm smile and taking up his seat.
"I'm glad you like it." He really would have to thank Shingo-san later as Taki himself hadn't exactly known what to expect either when he called his old teacher. Letting Bunta settle himself Taki took a moment to stand at the balcony edge and look around the massive hall. A faint and maybe slightly irritated smile tugging at his lips as his brain instantly started to assess and calculate angles, lighting, the positions of other boxes along with the upper tier. You might be able to take the gun away from the sniper… he kept his sigh to himself.
Listening to the strain of the orchestra warming up, Taki folded his arms over the balcony edge and rested on them leaning over just enough to try and see what was going on down there. "You said that you'd seen Carmen before, was that here or on your travels?" The brunette asked over his shoulder.
Bunta also gave himself an inward kick in the pants - he found himself watching Taki's eyes, watching how they mapped out the opera house in his brain... it was only natural. Oddly, it made Bunta feel secure, though he was certain that would not go over well with the other man. But... his doctor's mind kicked into full gear watching Taki while the other man looked distinctly unhappy to be even considering whatever was going through his mind. That smile was the smile of a man who was laughing only at himself.
Smiling softly, trying to ignore the thoughts passing through his mind moments before, Bunta leaned forward and put a hand to Taki's lower back - it seemed that a small amount of physical contact sedated the younger man relatively quickly. That was another common trait of the sniper - I'm dirty. Don't touch me. I'm ugly. I'm a monster. This particular sniper was... well, perhaps the ugly duckling. Any ugliness in his heart... Bunta knew was just the grey down feathers that would eventually give way to the swan. There was the doctor rearing its head, again, though.
"Carmen was in Portugal." With Jackal. It had been the night he and Jackal stumbled across feelings for one another - clumsily cycling through languages they shared in common trying to get out words that did not make a whole lot of sense to a pair of twenty-year-olds. It was an example of how Bunta, all his life, was too early or too late - in that case, he was too early. He and Jackal... had never quite worked. In the long run, they made better coworkers than lovers.
Again, the thoughts drifted away wherever thoughts go when they have made their point and no longer desire the thinker's attention. "It was nothing like this, though." Jokingly, Bunta added, "Everyone was speaking Portuguese."
Taki had to wonder just how many countries Bunta had been to in his life, he wasn't too proud to admit he was envious; the older man must have seen and done so many things already in his life. Still, did he have anyone accept himself to blame for his lack of 'living'. Other than the sniper/hunting training he'd done in Norway, but that had been anything but a holiday. Letting his eyes linger on the orchestra pit a moment longer, Taki finally pushed away from the balcony wall pushing thoughts of what could have been to the back of his mind.
Taking Bunta's hand from where it rested he brought it to his lips and placed a lingering kiss on it. Did the past really matter anyway? He wasn't too old to maybe start getting things right for once. Taki gazed at the other man, taking him in, memorizing him. He knew the other thought him maybe a little too corny and lame in his verbal affections, but that was just him, he had always worn his heart on his sleeve with the people he cared about. The sniper liked them to know, needed them to know, especially when he didn't know when he'd meet a sniper that was better than him.
"You really are handsome." Beautiful, even. Smiling he moved from the wall and sat himself down on Bunta's lap. "You seemed a little surprised when I suggested this," Taki mussed as he brushed a hand through the analyst's hair and let it rest on the back of his neck. "Would it surprise you even more to know that I'm a classically trained pianist?" He wasn't sure why he was asking, curiosity maybe, it wasn't something he usually ever mentioned to people.
The sudden compliment was instantly rewarded with a pleasantly surprised smile. Bunta wrapped his arms around Taki almost gingerly as the sniper settled in his lap, one hand behind his back, the other around his waist, and he could not help but let his eyes fall closed in appreciation of the hand in his hair. Calm drifted over him like a blanket - they could have just as easily been snuggled on the couch in front of a TV as they were sitting in a private box at the opera... such an interesting effect Taki Haginosuke had on one Marui Bunta.
"You have beautiful hands," replied the doctor, as though it ought to answer the question. He elaborated a moment later, "Long, slender piano fingers -- you look like you were designed for the purpose of playing an instrument." The hand that had been resting on Taki's waist migrated up to his cheek, cupping over the edge of his jaw. "Whoever designed you does wonderful work."
That had him blushing as he ducked his head a little before deciding to just rest it on Bunta's shoulder. He was quiet and maybe even slightly uneasy for a moment, like he expected it to be a joke, but he should have known Bunta better by now. Part of him even wanted to retort that he was a killer and his hands ceased to be anything but beautiful a long time ago. It was also the reason he didn't play anymore, it just seemed wrong.
Sighing into Bunta's neck again Taki found himself having to push away unwanted thoughts. Instead he leant more fully against Bunta's solid frame the hand resting on his neck moving up into his hair, he loved that way it left when he threaded his fingers through it. "The manager of this place is my old teacher from way back when I first started to learn. He'd probably throw a fit if he found out how much I've let myself slip over the years. Bet I couldn't play chopsticks let alone Beethoven's Moonlight or Pathetique now." A bit of an exaggeration maybe, his tempo would be off, but it was nothing some practice couldn't fix. Noticing the house lights go down and the sudden quietness that settled over the hall, Taki guessed he should move.
Pulling back, Taki placed a soft and lingering kiss on Bunta's lips before sliding off his lap somewhat reluctantly and moving over to the champagne cooler. Thankfully it was already uncorked and the sniper made short work of pouring the both a glass and offering one of the flutes to Bunta before taking up his own seat.
Graciously, Bunta accepted the glass, settling back properly in his chair and focusing his attention on the stage. The orchestra did their pretend warm ups and tuning (Bunta knew they had already done both of these things before they every came out into the main chamber of the building) followed by, once more, the uncanny quiet of the first curtain call. He could see, but not hear, the conductor tap his music stand, raise his arms... and then the music began. The curtain lingered on the stage for a few moments more while the introduction continued to play, before rising to reveal the set.
Bunta's attention turned back to Taki for a moment - he placed a hand on the other man's knee, closest to him, and contentedly returned to watching the stage. For someone who couldn't do a damn thing when it came to writing poetry, it seemed, this was... very special. With an ironic smile, Bunta thought to himself that he ought to attempt poetry for Taki, one of these days - one thing they had in common was an utter failure with words.
"Thank you, again, for this," said the older man, taking a sip of his champagne as the voice of the actor on stage raised geeseflesh on his arms. It was amazing what something as simple as a song could do to the body as part of a psychological reaction.
Taki didn't offer a verbal reply; he didn't want the magic that was slowly being cast by the performance to be interrupted in anyway. So, he simply placed his hand over the back of Bunta's giving it a slight squeeze before letting it rest there. The start of operas or recitals always left Taki with odd mixed emotions. While on the one hand he loved to watch and listen, loosing himself in an altogether different place, the other side of him was regretful, almost sad. He could have done it, played for a big orchestra, but he'd just never followed through. And the most annoying thing was, he didn't know why.
Still, Taki wasn't about to question fate or fortune or whatever you wanted to call it because it had lead him to this point in his life and right now he wouldn't change it for anything. So the sniper settled back into his seat with a sip of the crisp champagne, keen eyes picking out as much as they could as the performance unfolded on the stage below.
Similarly quiet, Bunta allowed himself to merely sit back and enjoy the performance - his knowledge of French was limited to what he knew of Spanish and Portuguese, but the story told itself - even without the synopsis in the program, his prior knowledge of the opera, or the language. A younger Bunta had even been likened to Carmen... as an adult, he found the idea ridiculous, but there had been a time in his life...
Losing himself in the performance, he did not notice his fingers lacing gingerly with Taki's or how he managed to drink the remainder of the champagne in his glass. Time slipped away until the intermission, leaving him a bit stunned when it actually came - it surely could not have already been that long... he let out the breath he did not realize he had been holding, straightening in his chair to work out the unseen kinks in his shoulders.
It had been exhilarating, that's the only word Taki could think of. When he had heard that Carmen was wild, passionate and driven, they hadn't been joking. It was a shame the end that was in store for her, it almost made Taki not want to stay for the second half. He was woken from his reprieve as Bunta moved his hand away and stretched, arching his back out of the chair.
"Stiff? We can take a walk if you like," Taki suggested, though part of him didn't want to go anywhere in all honesty. No, now that his senses were coming back to him and he could almost feel the intensity of the performance on his skin…. "Mmm, maybe we could try out these strawberries instead be a shame to waste them."
"Maybe I just need a massage," Bunta teased, giving Taki a come-hither look, though he stood to get some blood flowing to his legs. Really, it had nothing to do with being sore, and everything to do with being fixed to his chair - totally enraptured. It was, indeed, a wonderful performance. "I'm no good at staying still - I'm one of those guys that dances with the mop when I clean and serenades cookies and the like." Why he was sharing this information - that was lost on him. He was, at least, making himself out to be a complete dork in front of his significant other. Good work, Marui. Really.
"...Yeah, those strawberries sound good before I say anything else incriminating," he said with a laugh, sitting gingerly on Taki's knee, wrapping an arm around his shoulder to steady himself.
Taki was laughing to, he couldn't help it, a bright smile on his face as Bunta looked like he wanted to shoot himself in the foot before perching himself on the sniper's lap. "Oh, man. I'd love to see that and there I was thinking me and Rin were bad for that stuff. We watching Moulin Rouge last week and decided to recreate the whole remixed version of Lady Marmalade. I think Rin wants to be Christina Aguilera or something." Really, such things weren't silly or stupid, just guys having fun. "Personally I'd like to recreate the tango scene… so powerful." Taki said as he reached over for the chilled bowl.
"Oh, and just one thing," the sniper said as he picked out one the looked sweet and juicy tracing the red berry over Bunta's lower lip and holding light violet eyes. "I'm not going to snap or break, you don't have to touch me like I might just crumble, because I won't." Taki kept his voice light, his tone free from defense or accusation he didn't want Bunta treating him with kid gloves.
Bunta's eyelashes flickered in the briefest of blinks, though he otherwise returned Taki's gaze just as steadfastly. "I believe you may be mistaking fondness for caution." He moved his hand to straighten Taki's bowtie - the sniper kept fiddling with it and leaving it crooked. "Both are ways of taking care - I touch softly to convey that what I'm feeling is soft. I'm not concerned about injuring you." Far from it, really... there could very well come a time and a place for the more passionate and rough around the edges. Maybe... sooner rather than later.
The thought may have been present in Bunta's eyes, but he did not mind - every human being, Taki included, liked being desired. Not by everyone, granted, and always for different reasons, but it was nonetheless a good feeling. Light purple eyes drifted away from Taki's, down to the strawberry, and then back to Taki as Bunta went silent.
Maybe he was, but Taki still felt better having it out in the open, it was also the fact that softness was a somewhat alien concept to him. But there was something in Bunta's eyes that made his throat a little dryer than the champagne had made it, and possibly contradicted the gentleness of his touches. Tilting his head to one side slightly, Taki found himself trying to read just what it was Bunta was asking for as the low murmur of the other guests below faded into irrelevance. Well, if Bunta wasn't going to eat it…. The sniper put it to his own mouth biting the bottom half clean off, mmmmm, very fresh and juicy. "You don't now what you're missing." Taki said finishing it off and licking the sticky juice that had escaped off his finger tips with a grin that was anything but innocent.
Two most certainly could play that game, but why bother? Bunta tightened both arms around Taki's shoulders, pulling himself closer, and pressed their lips together firmly, slowly and deliberately running his tongue over Taki's lower lip to take in the traces of the juice left behind by Taki's teasing. It was a bit too sweet for a strawberry - they had probably been soaked and chilled in sugar water; it was a technique that Bunta, himself, had employed when making desserts that called for strawberries. If it were the right time of year for strawberries, it was needless, but they were on the tail end of the season.
Drawing back, Bunta gave Taki a coy glance. "Something sweet, it seems," he responded.
There was a part of Taki that suddenly really couldn't be bothered to carry on with this little game, not when he had a lapful of boyfriend doing wonderful things like that. So he didn't bother reaching for the bowl again instead letting one hand slide under Bunta's tux jacket and run up his back pulling him closer as he latched onto the redhead's lips for more firmly. There was always a bolt of nervous excitement that went from him when he kissed Bunta and now was no exception as he tasted the faint traces of champagne on his full lips. Tongue brushing over them in a request, his other hand worked it's way up into Bunta's thick and luxurious hair.
That sort of behavior was entirely permissible. A soft sound of pleasure worked its way out of Bunta’s throat as he parted his lips invitingly and let himself melt against Taki. Damn that hand in his hair, anyway - Bunta was not only at Taki’s mercy, but could not possibly imagine anywhere else he would rather be. This was getting to be a lot less like fondness mingling with lust and a lot more like… emotions… perhaps even complicated ones. Not that it was a problem - he could deal with emotions, even complicated ones. It was his business.
Drawing away, he reached for a strawberry, leaning his head against Taki’s shoulder, and taking a bite. “Will you play for me, sometime? The piano, I mean.”
Taki couldn't help but pout a little at the loss of those lips; he liked them, a lot. He could also think of better things to do on top of a grand piano rather than playing it…. "Find me a piano and I'll play anything you want me to, Bunta. And if I don't know it, I'll learn it for you." There hadn't been much he couldn't turn his hand to while he had been playing and again he was stung with a regretful pang over just stopping like he did. With a slight sigh, Taki placed a light kiss on the top of Bunta's head.
Finishing off the last of his strawberry, Bunta felt all of twelve for a moment - the snuggling and the question of the piano and the kiss atop his head. Silently, he tilted his head up, brushing his lips across the prone skin of Taki’s throat. “Careful, Taki, I might start to think I’m special,” he teased, nipping lightly at the younger man’s earlobe. One hand slid under Taki’s coat, nestling against warm ribs that expanded and contracted with every breath. It could be easy to forget what a wonderful machine was man until one thought about just what made man tick - what a startling number of coincidences had to be in place for man to evolve just as he did and have him work exactly perfectly straight off the factory floor.
Thoughts like these were lost to brushing away dark hair, craning his neck to steal another kiss - this one firm, but brief. Direct, but quietly so.
Taki took a slight, sharp intake of breath as those lips ghosted over his neck, eyes fluttering shut for the briefest of moments before Bunta spoke and he couldn't help but smile to himself. Why wouldn't Bunta be special to him, he was intelligent and charming and had this magical ability he calm and reassure him. Taki felt a peace around Bunta that he never thought he'd find again. Still, hands and lips woke him from his thoughts and for whatever reason the sniper decided to voice them as he left his hand rest on the side of Bunta's face, his thumb bushing over his cheek. "Then do, because you are." And Taki leaned forward, but not to steal his lips, he bushed past nuzzling red hair out of the way and letting wet lips kiss there way along his neck.
Low in his throat, Butna hummed, tilting his head away from the kisses, his eyes fluttering closed. Something just below his skin seemed to crawl with unspoken promises behind those kisses - a desire that snuck past suits and fancy opera boxes on its toes, raising goosebumps on his arms. "Taki," he breathed the name out, his hand wandering away from Taki's ribs to sink lower, playing across his abdomen, fingers catching against the buttons of the pressed white shirt. The other hand crawled along Taki's neck, creeping through his hair. "I want you." He threw the words out there, knowing they would not come back after he did - but also knowing that they could not go unsaid.
He turned his head back to look Taki in the eye, knowing his own eyes were dark with thoughts that were so far away from opera or tuxedos or Taki's crooked bowtie. The lights lowered, people filed back to their seats, and Bunta moved to straddle Taki's lap, laying both of his hands palm-flat on Taki's shoulders, leaning down to kiss him properly, ignoring completely the surge of music behind him for the entr'acte.
It was amazing what three simple, softly spoken words could do to a man. Maybe it was the weight and promise behind them, but Taki found himself really not caring for clever or logical thought right about now. Not when Bunta was sitting astride his lap and his lips and tongue were doing wonderful things to his own. Moaning softly into his mouth he let his hands brush lightly over the redhead's hips, Taki let them move around to his back and tightening his grip pulled Bunta flush against his own body. The feel of the other’s solid weight was delicious, pushing him back into the high-backed, cushioned seat as he left his hands run firmly up his back. Stupid jacket.
Coincidentally, stupid jacket was the exact thought Bunta was having in that moment, moving his arms away so he could worm out of the jacket without breaking the kiss - with the soft sound of the cloth dropping and folding over itself, it hit the floor at Taki’s feet. Both hands settled on Taki’s cheeks, Bunta edged forward just a touch so that, sitting straight, he hand to angle his head down to continue the kiss that had become more of a string of short, breathless kisses - each dragged out just long enough to tempt Taki, but also cut off just soon enough to not give him the satisfaction of a deeper kiss.
Each small brush of Taki’s fingers was delightfully maddening - Bunta wondered what his fingers would feel like against bare flesh, or if they would be brave enough to migrate to another part of his body. Just the thought of that sent a shiver through Bunta as he pulled back from the kiss enough to meet Taki’s eyes. Beautiful and alive - that was his impression of Taki - he was beautiful and alive. It was all there in soft eyes that never quite lost the glimmer of a child, despite everything.
Ironic as it might be, Taki was one of the most human people Bunta had ever met. Ironic only due to the thought process of most snipers.
By the time Bunta suddenly pulled back to let light purple bore into light brown, Taki was breathing heavy and shallow and he could almost hear his heart thundering in his ears. Somewhere he was faintly aware that the orchestra was striking up a score that was familiar to him, but it was quickly lost in the hum of desire and tension that was coursing through his body. Then a small sly grin was tugging at the corner of his mouth and while he knew following through on the thought would likely jam his body nastily for a moment, but it wasn't something the sniper couldn't deal with easily. And he could take the worst of the impact for Bunta.
The chair wasn't bolted to the floor as using his foot; Taki planted it squarely against the balcony wall and pushed hard. As the back of the chair hit the floor it did knock the breath out of him, but the sniper paid it no heed as he pushed and rolled till he had Bunta pinned under him. Much better. And then lips were at the analyst's throat as dexterous fingers pulled at his bowtie and small top buttons which were tight and annoying. Taki almost snarled at them before they finally gave way allowing the sniper to run his tongue along that now lovely exposed collarbone and into the hollow of Bunta's throat.
Bunta fought hard against natural impulses - said impulses would have kept them in motion and would have thrown Taki through the curtain and into the door behind them. No one got the better of Bunta unless he wanted them to - and he certainly was not about to fight this. The tongue against his skin was another maddening new development - warm at the principle contact, but leaving his skin cool and begging for more. Better yet, if he could find a way to get Taki out of that damn jacket.
With practiced ease, Bunta undid the buttons of Taki’s jacket, worming one of his legs out from under Taki. The small effort was worth it - he was able to hook his leg up around the slighter man, moving his leg slowly down to tug at the cloth of the jacket, pulling it tight across the sniper’s shoulders. This resulted in his hips bucking up against Taki’s body, grinding their bodies together. Bunta had the sense to attempt to gag himself, for the sake of other opera patrons, but he could not help a low, grumbling moan that escaped him.
Taki was nowhere near as restrained as Bunta bucked up against him in some bizarre attempt to get the fitted tux jacket off him. With a throaty groan at the wonderful friction right where it was needed most he nipped at the collarbone he'd been paying special attention to. He then pulled back to look down at the older man with a cheeky grin. "You know, all you have to do is ask rather than trying to dislocate limbs. Not that I'm complaining or anything." Taki said moving back enough to shrug the offending article off and toss it somewhere behind him. The sniper then set about working the rest on those nasty small dress shirt buttons open, gun callused finger tips moving under the crisp white fabric to run over warm skin.
“More interesting my way,” replied the doctor, a wicked grin dangling on his lips - the expression melted away for the hands on his chest. Finally, he thought, though any verbal expression of the thought sounded a bit more like a heavy exhale, nearly a sigh. He lifted his own hands to Taki’s shirt, tilting his head a bit to the side, watching his own fingers move with eerie grace and speed to unwork the buttons that could be difficult for a man who was not used to them - his practice came from one too many formal dinners for the sake of his company when he was younger, getting dressed and undressed quickly like a stage performer to make public appearances, and then quickly put on something casual for good PR.
Like unwrapping a present, he pulled at the end of the bowtie, last, pulling it free of Taki’s neck and letting it drop to the side, his hands wrapping under Taki’s arms and up around his back, casually tracing his spine with both sets of fingers, pausing only when he encountered the waistline of Taki’s pants. He bent his other leg at the knee, doing a crunch to catch Taki’s lips, again - the shake of protesting abdomen muscles be damned.
Being rid of that damned bowtie was ecstasy in its own right as far as Taki was concerned, there was a reason why his work tie was never done up properly. Well, that was until Bunta was putting that wonderfully talented mouth of his to good use again. Purring his approval, Taki flicked open the last button as he lowered himself back over the redhead the sudden touch of skin on skin dragging an almost wanton moan from the sniper. Fingers curled against that skin, blunt nails raking now Bunta's sides not hard enough to scratch, but still firm. Taki couldn't help but grind his hips down as his hands hit the waistband of black pants, tracing the skin just above it as they moved around to the front. He didn't rush, if Bunta wanted him to stop, he would.
Pulling back from the heated, wet kissing, Taki was all but panting from breath tracing the tip of his tongue down Bunta's chin and then down his throat and over the bump of his adams apple.
Bunta could not help the growl that curled out of his throat, his eyes falling shut and his head tilting back away from the touch - nor could he help the way the muscles of his thighs tightened, clamping around Taki. Good lord. His lower back arched, rolling his groin against Taki’s body in a subconscious effort to create friction - and one that brought a louder, throatier moan out of the older man.
Though truly needless to say, between the wandering hands that had since found their way down over the back of Taki’s pants, settling over the back pockets of the slacks, and the heavy rise and fall of his chest with each of his body’s subconscious attempts to press itself closer to Taki, Bunta still felt the need to repeat himself. “I want you,” he rasped out, nearly driven mad by the brush of warm breath against his neck. A heartbeat later, he elaborated, “Now.”
Taki might have come up with some witty retort if his mind wasn't being so totally overridden by a heady mix of lust and desire. He also found himself wishing he'd had the thought to wear a skirt or even a bloody dress as his pants tightened a little more around him, mans clothes were so annoyingly restrictive. His fingers fumbled slightly with the zipper of Bunta's pants, more due to all the hip grinding and rolling rather than anything else. But it was soon down and the sniper grinned against the damp skin he'd been suckling on as be palmed the redheads erection, rubbing against it firmly. "What do you want, Bunta?" Taki suddenly had the mind to ask in a strained breathy voice. "You want me to fuck you or get you off?" His own words sent a powerful rush of arousal through him making him bite at his lower lip to keep some form of clear thought.
Bunta’s cheek pressed hard against the floor, eyes shut tight against the sudden shot of stimulation from Taki’s hand. His stomach knotted, his throat tensing hard as though attempting to swallow around an ice cube, and he could feel a tingle making its way up his spine. Each passing fraction of a second his muscles trembled harder from sheer restraint - fighting against themselves. “Fuck me,” murmured the older man, the words tightening something low in his abdomen even further. Purple eyes, unusually dark with lust, fixed back on Taki. His hands slid farther down from where they rested, his fingers digging into Taki’s inner thighs.
That very nearly snapped Taki's control there and then, but then just as suddenly knowing what Bunta wanted caused him to focus a little more. One hand moved up to brush through sweat damp red hair and caress his cheek, a gentle smile on his face that seemed out of place given the heavy weight of lust in his own eyes.
It didn't take more than a moment to be rid of any remaining clothing as Taki paused only briefly to grab a few things from his jacket pocket. And then he was back over Bunta, kissing him hard and deep, his tongue teaseling at its twin as his hands urged the others legs a little wider. "Relax…" the sniper murmured against red, kiss swollen lips, coating slim fingers with the small packet of lube moving them to stroke at the tight ring of muscle.
Don’t you come prepared? The thought was fleeting, at best, as Bunta’s teeth sunk down into Taki’s lower lip - gently enough to show that he meant no harm, but certainly more aggressive than he had been. His mind focused sharply at the keenly initially awkward sensation of fingers inside him. There was always that moment where it was more of a tickle - it caused the muscles to tighten immediately at the intrusion, and he had to remind himself to relax - it became easier with each stroke, the tickle becoming an impatient throb as small sounds bubbled out of him.
Bare shoulders braced against carpet (oh, that was not going to work when it came to putting clothes on again - but Bunta could not be bothered to care at the moment), Bunta’s hips moved obligingly against Taki’s hand, directing him subconsciously toward the prostate, the throb only becoming worse as his body begged him for release.
Taki kept the pace steady as hard as it was with those sweet noises coming from Bunta, the slight show of aggression causing him to growl deep in his throat. The sniper didn't mind pain of any form during foreplay or sex, he'd become more than used to it almost to the point he couldn't truly enjoy himself unless there was some. Whether that was a good or bad thing was up for debate, but he also knew not everyone was as masochistic as he was.
Stroking a little deeper, Taki curled his fingers pressing a little firmer. And when Bunta's body jerked against his and he moved the analysts mouth with his own to muffle his cry, he knew he'd found that wonderful little nerve. Paying that same spot some insistent attention, Taki was forcing his brain to think about how to do this, he didn't want Bunta to be one big walking carpet burn there really was nothing worse. So, he pulled away, sitting back with his back against the wall and urging Bunta to follow and straddle him.
Limbs shaking from the barely contained cries of pleasure and the horrible or wonderful fingers that had found the exact spot to extract that sort of sound - skin ablaze from every slight brush of Taki’s skin on his, Bunta could hardly form a logical thought as moved in pursuit of Taki. Wordlessly, he settled on Taki’s lap, knees folded and rested against the wall on either side of Taki’s body. His hands rested palm-flat against the wall, forcing him into a vertical push-up to catch Taki’s lips - though only briefly before moving farther down his chin - the hollow of his throat - his collarbone…
He straightened, going once more for a kiss that was this time maddeningly gentle - one hand moved to lay against Taki’s chest, the pad of his thumb brushing over Taki’s nipple just enough to make it fully erect. His own body was urging him to stop delaying his own pleasure, but if there was one thing Bunta could not be more aroused by, it was his partner being aroused by him.
Firm hands slide down Bunta's back to massage and squeeze at that rather lovely backside and to pull him further into his lap, a hiss passing his lips as their erections rubbed and pressed together. God, he wanted him, but Bunta seemed intent on trying to tease him further and Taki was torn between letting him and throwing him back on the floor and fucking him. Instead the sniper found his head lolling back against the wall with a dull thud his eyes rolling into the back of his skull as Bunta's hands and lips played him. One hand did find its way back between those firm ass cheeks intent on rubbing and teasing at his entrance as his other clawed lightly across his back. "Bunta… mmm, want in you."
Bunta’s spine straightened rather abruptly at the touch, arching his lower back naturally, and he fixed heavy-lidded eyes on Taki. When he spoke, his voice was low-pitched and husky, as though he had been screaming all night. “How do you want me?” It was going to require a bit of shifting to get them into any sort of position that would work - and Bunta was more than ready to start seeking out something that would work between the taunting ministrations on his back and the growing pressure for release. Letting his hands slide down Taki’s body, fingers passing over ribs and thin sides, he ended up with his hands between his own thighs and Taki’s hips, his thumbs reaching just far enough to tease at the very edges of soft pubic hair.
Taki grinned, that was an easy enough question to answer as a shudder ran through him more at the thought of where Bunta's hands were and how close they were to his aching hard on. Hands drifting down to grip at the doctors hips he encouraged him up lift himself up a little so he could scoot forward a little. Taki let out a shaky moan, trailing his lips over Bunta's chest as he felt the damp head of his erection brush against the older mans pucker. His hips gave a slight buck at the mere though of the tight heat just breaching the ring of muscle.
Immediately, a small sound escaped Bunta - his body reacted naturally, tightening, though it took far less convincing to relax his muscles, this time. Given a moment to adjust, he was able to lower himself slowly, pushing Taki inside himself as he moved. A tremble ran through Bunta’s body - the desire to be touched driving him quietly mad as he curled himself enough to give Taki one last lingering kiss to distract him from the way his legs wrapped around Taki’s back, giving the older man more leverage to move. For that one loitering moment, he was aware of the sweat congealing on his neck and shoulders, and the cold air of the air conditioning assaulting his body - he was aware of the stupefied silence of the audience around them, and the amazing spike of the music as a particularly talented soprano hit a note that seemed to defy the human vocal range.
It all disappeared again as he began to move, bringing his hips up until the head of Taki’s erection was all that remained inside Bunta’s body - this movement was slow and deliberate, though as he moved his hips again, with a deep groan - so low it might defy the other end of the vocal spectrum - every muscle that had been tensed keeping itself strictly in control was set free, a sensation almost like suddenly falling gripping at his stomach as he finally brushed his own fingers over the tip of his own penis, pulling back the sensitive foreskin, as his eyes began to lose focus from the rush of sensations.
Taki bit at his bottom lip breathing unsteady and hard as Bunta lowered himself, focusing and keeping still and letting the other man slide down as fast or slow has he wanted. For one horrible moment he thought he might come from the sheer tightness and heat that was closing around him. But with a clenching of his jaw and the bitter taste of copper on his tongue, Taki kept himself the right side of oblivion. And then Bunta was moving and there were strong legs wrapped around him pulling them closer together and it was torturously slow. The sniper couldn't help his hips bucking up an arm running up the redhead's spine as his lips sought out his throat.
While Bunta had the most control over the pace that didn't stop Taki from adding to it, moving his hips in small circles and tilting the angle to find that wonderful little spot again. Oblivious to anything but mix of sweet breathy moans and wet lips on damp flesh, the hand that had been resting on Bunta's hip moved between them, finger tips ghosting over the back of the doctors own hand. The snipers hips bucked again, breaking their rhythm for a moment, at the thought of the other man touching himself. But then he was teasing at the shaft with his own fingers before wrapping his hand around it firmly.
A strangled sound escaped Bunta’s lips, his own rhythm being thrown off. He began to move more quickly, rocking into Taki’s hand - urging him forward with the erratic thrusts of his hips and heavy breaths that accented every movement of his pelvis. The pace was maddening, now - it became difficult to press his lips to Taki’s skin, instead finding himself more dragging his lips over sweat-slick skin, something building in his chest that felt like a scream kept under heavy pressure - it mirrored the tightness low in his abdomen, and back. That feeling of anticipation mixed with caging in something that clawed and scratched at the bars to be let out…
When Bunta came, it was with a heavy shudder that sent a shock wave through his whole system, a cry finally escaping him that was thankfully muffled into the exposed flesh of Taki’s shoulder.
Taki wasn't by default a quiet person when it came to sex. So when Bunta's muscles spasmed and clamped down on him the sniper turned his head to bite down hard on his bicep as his scream caught in his throat. Emptying himself deep inside his lover, Taki's hips didn't stop until Bunta had slumped against him and the lasts waves of his own orgasm left him.
With a last conscious thought, the sniper flopped down on his back taking Bunta with him and panting hard. Eyes closed, his hands idly traced patterns over the redheads back. Touches meant to sooth rather than arouse as one hand found its way into damp tousled red hair. Below them part of him was aware that the audience was applauding. Taki didn't care that he had missed the second half, he hadn't wanted to she a vibrant and passionate beauty like Carmen die anyway. He nuzzled into Bunta's neck, arms tightening a little in some kind of odd reflex. "You okay?"
Regaining his composure about him - mostly a matter of bringing his breathing under control and allowing the soft trembles of his body to be soothed away by the hand on his back - Bunta was a little surprised by the question. “Okay?” He lifted himself half-off Taki, smiling as much as tired muscles would allow him, and meeting the sniper’s keen eyes. “I’m a lot more than okay.” Pressing his lips once more to Taki’s in a reassuring kiss, Bunta could not help but morn the fact that he could not continue to hold Taki there - that they would have to get quickly dressed so they could leave the opera house.
Despite this, with the last fleeting thought that he had somehow missed Taki’s belly ring before, Bunta settled back against the other man to steal what few remaining moments of close proximity he could.
rating: NC-17
summary: Taki treats Bunta to an unexpectedly lavish night at the opera - things pretty much go downhill from there. :D;
There was something about a truly fantastic chandelier that could steal Bunta’s attention and hold onto it - the intricate workings of each dangling piece of glass, hanging weightlessly from the massive, but elegant twining metal arms - he could have never left the foyer and been already impressed and entertained. Of course, he reminded himself, pulling his coat about his shoulders, it was not about the pretty danglies in the ceiling, it was about the opera - Carmen - and sharing said production with a man who would appreciate it as he did.
Naturally, he was rewarded for his effort in getting Taki to go out like a normal human being - the younger man looked quite handsome in a tux. Which, of course, paled in comparison to the pleasure of his company, but Bunta kept these thoughts to himself, instead slipping his arm through Taki’s, his fingers settling on the inside of the sniper’s elbow. “You’ll have to show me where this box of ours is - I’m afraid I’m not familiar enough with this venue to navigate.” …And despite the nature of his words, there was a certain level of fondness that did leak out as he spoke.
This Taki Haginosuke man was many things - among them, troubled and lost - but he was before all, in Bunta’s eyes, invaluable. Whether he saw it or not, Taki brought some light back to the eyes of a tired and irritated man.
Fiddling with his bow tie for the umpteenth time already that night, Taki didn't register Bunta's query at first as he was reading some historical plaque on the wall. But the strong yet gentle fingers on his elbow did and he turned to the older man with a happy smile on his face. He didn't know how Bunta did it, but could bring the expression from him easily, and more importantly the feeling behind it too. "It can't be far," a casual shrug as he stepped closer and let slim finger tips rest for a moment on the analyst's hip before his hand fell to his side. "There's time yet, I guess we can have a little adventure finding it." Taki said lightly.
In truth, Taki knew perfectly well where it was he just felt in a rather playful mood tonight. Plus he wanted Bunta to have fun tonight. There had been something in those light violet eyes when they met for dinner that worried him. Whatever it had been it was gone now and Taki wanted to keep it that way. Maybe it had just been one of those days at work; god knows they all had them.
Steering and walking them both in the direction of a grand staircase, he glanced across at Bunta. "I also went and added a few little extra's to the box, hope you like them."
"Extras?" inquired the analyst, amusement dancing across his features. With a tilt of his head, Bunta commented coyly, "I do love a good surprise." His hand migrated up to clench under Taki's upper arm, before traveling back down to take hold of his hand. He knew the number of their box -- but that only gave him vague direction... perhaps that could be part of the fun of the surprise, too, though.
He glanced at somewhat unhelpful placards on the wall that gave only minimal direction as to where they should go - at least up on flight of stairs. "You know exactly where we're supposed to be, don't you, you fox?" Chuckling, the shorter man shook his head. "That's half the fun of it, isn't it?"
"May~be," Taki answered with a grin as he steered them too the left and up another narrower flight of steps covered with a luxurious thick red carpet. It was probably silly but sometimes Taki just liked to forget who he was and want he did and just indulge in lighthearted games like a normal twenty-something. Letting his fingers slide and lace between Bunta's he continued to lead him down an empty corridor decorated with dark burnished wood, gold candelabras and soft lighting.
Bunta had suggested somewhere more private, and you couldn't really get more private than this at an opera house. Well, save having your own personal performance and there were limits to just how many strings he could pull. Finally coming to the end of the corridor, Taki offered the redhead a somewhat shy smile he pulled a key from his jacket pocket. "They usually only use this box for really special people, VIP's, that kinda stuff. But luckily I know the manager here and he owed me a favor." Slipping the shiny brass key into the lock and turning it, Taki pushed the door open and stood to one side to let Bunta precede him. " Champagne on ice, fresh strawberries and possible the best view in the house."
Thanking Taki quietly for holding the door, Bunta stepped inside, pushing aside heavy curtains, and was met with - as promised - a spectacular view. It was far enough from the stage that he could see the whole stage, but not so far as to make him wonder how ants were able to produce such amazing sounds. Practically perfect. There were only two seats in the box, two sets of opera glasses, two glasses, a bottle of champagne on ice, and strawberries that looked freshly washed in a chilled silver basin with the stems cut off. It was... well. It was enough to stir up something in Bunta - he was impressed, and not only impressed, but also somewhat touched that Taki had gone to such lengths for his sake.
There were plenty of rich and handsome doctors out there, Bunta was certain of it - but he was glad to be the one that had caught Taki's attention.
"This is wonderful," he murmured, his voice barely carrying over the din of the audience filling their seats. He turned back to Taki, taking hold of his jacket by either side of the collar, and compelled him closer, pressing a soft kiss to the corner of his mouth. "Thank you. This is truly amazing." He paused a moment to take in the pleasant smell of Taki's shampoo - a smell made so much more pleasant without the dry haze of smoke clinging to it - before moving away with a warm smile and taking up his seat.
"I'm glad you like it." He really would have to thank Shingo-san later as Taki himself hadn't exactly known what to expect either when he called his old teacher. Letting Bunta settle himself Taki took a moment to stand at the balcony edge and look around the massive hall. A faint and maybe slightly irritated smile tugging at his lips as his brain instantly started to assess and calculate angles, lighting, the positions of other boxes along with the upper tier. You might be able to take the gun away from the sniper… he kept his sigh to himself.
Listening to the strain of the orchestra warming up, Taki folded his arms over the balcony edge and rested on them leaning over just enough to try and see what was going on down there. "You said that you'd seen Carmen before, was that here or on your travels?" The brunette asked over his shoulder.
Bunta also gave himself an inward kick in the pants - he found himself watching Taki's eyes, watching how they mapped out the opera house in his brain... it was only natural. Oddly, it made Bunta feel secure, though he was certain that would not go over well with the other man. But... his doctor's mind kicked into full gear watching Taki while the other man looked distinctly unhappy to be even considering whatever was going through his mind. That smile was the smile of a man who was laughing only at himself.
Smiling softly, trying to ignore the thoughts passing through his mind moments before, Bunta leaned forward and put a hand to Taki's lower back - it seemed that a small amount of physical contact sedated the younger man relatively quickly. That was another common trait of the sniper - I'm dirty. Don't touch me. I'm ugly. I'm a monster. This particular sniper was... well, perhaps the ugly duckling. Any ugliness in his heart... Bunta knew was just the grey down feathers that would eventually give way to the swan. There was the doctor rearing its head, again, though.
"Carmen was in Portugal." With Jackal. It had been the night he and Jackal stumbled across feelings for one another - clumsily cycling through languages they shared in common trying to get out words that did not make a whole lot of sense to a pair of twenty-year-olds. It was an example of how Bunta, all his life, was too early or too late - in that case, he was too early. He and Jackal... had never quite worked. In the long run, they made better coworkers than lovers.
Again, the thoughts drifted away wherever thoughts go when they have made their point and no longer desire the thinker's attention. "It was nothing like this, though." Jokingly, Bunta added, "Everyone was speaking Portuguese."
Taki had to wonder just how many countries Bunta had been to in his life, he wasn't too proud to admit he was envious; the older man must have seen and done so many things already in his life. Still, did he have anyone accept himself to blame for his lack of 'living'. Other than the sniper/hunting training he'd done in Norway, but that had been anything but a holiday. Letting his eyes linger on the orchestra pit a moment longer, Taki finally pushed away from the balcony wall pushing thoughts of what could have been to the back of his mind.
Taking Bunta's hand from where it rested he brought it to his lips and placed a lingering kiss on it. Did the past really matter anyway? He wasn't too old to maybe start getting things right for once. Taki gazed at the other man, taking him in, memorizing him. He knew the other thought him maybe a little too corny and lame in his verbal affections, but that was just him, he had always worn his heart on his sleeve with the people he cared about. The sniper liked them to know, needed them to know, especially when he didn't know when he'd meet a sniper that was better than him.
"You really are handsome." Beautiful, even. Smiling he moved from the wall and sat himself down on Bunta's lap. "You seemed a little surprised when I suggested this," Taki mussed as he brushed a hand through the analyst's hair and let it rest on the back of his neck. "Would it surprise you even more to know that I'm a classically trained pianist?" He wasn't sure why he was asking, curiosity maybe, it wasn't something he usually ever mentioned to people.
The sudden compliment was instantly rewarded with a pleasantly surprised smile. Bunta wrapped his arms around Taki almost gingerly as the sniper settled in his lap, one hand behind his back, the other around his waist, and he could not help but let his eyes fall closed in appreciation of the hand in his hair. Calm drifted over him like a blanket - they could have just as easily been snuggled on the couch in front of a TV as they were sitting in a private box at the opera... such an interesting effect Taki Haginosuke had on one Marui Bunta.
"You have beautiful hands," replied the doctor, as though it ought to answer the question. He elaborated a moment later, "Long, slender piano fingers -- you look like you were designed for the purpose of playing an instrument." The hand that had been resting on Taki's waist migrated up to his cheek, cupping over the edge of his jaw. "Whoever designed you does wonderful work."
That had him blushing as he ducked his head a little before deciding to just rest it on Bunta's shoulder. He was quiet and maybe even slightly uneasy for a moment, like he expected it to be a joke, but he should have known Bunta better by now. Part of him even wanted to retort that he was a killer and his hands ceased to be anything but beautiful a long time ago. It was also the reason he didn't play anymore, it just seemed wrong.
Sighing into Bunta's neck again Taki found himself having to push away unwanted thoughts. Instead he leant more fully against Bunta's solid frame the hand resting on his neck moving up into his hair, he loved that way it left when he threaded his fingers through it. "The manager of this place is my old teacher from way back when I first started to learn. He'd probably throw a fit if he found out how much I've let myself slip over the years. Bet I couldn't play chopsticks let alone Beethoven's Moonlight or Pathetique now." A bit of an exaggeration maybe, his tempo would be off, but it was nothing some practice couldn't fix. Noticing the house lights go down and the sudden quietness that settled over the hall, Taki guessed he should move.
Pulling back, Taki placed a soft and lingering kiss on Bunta's lips before sliding off his lap somewhat reluctantly and moving over to the champagne cooler. Thankfully it was already uncorked and the sniper made short work of pouring the both a glass and offering one of the flutes to Bunta before taking up his own seat.
Graciously, Bunta accepted the glass, settling back properly in his chair and focusing his attention on the stage. The orchestra did their pretend warm ups and tuning (Bunta knew they had already done both of these things before they every came out into the main chamber of the building) followed by, once more, the uncanny quiet of the first curtain call. He could see, but not hear, the conductor tap his music stand, raise his arms... and then the music began. The curtain lingered on the stage for a few moments more while the introduction continued to play, before rising to reveal the set.
Bunta's attention turned back to Taki for a moment - he placed a hand on the other man's knee, closest to him, and contentedly returned to watching the stage. For someone who couldn't do a damn thing when it came to writing poetry, it seemed, this was... very special. With an ironic smile, Bunta thought to himself that he ought to attempt poetry for Taki, one of these days - one thing they had in common was an utter failure with words.
"Thank you, again, for this," said the older man, taking a sip of his champagne as the voice of the actor on stage raised geeseflesh on his arms. It was amazing what something as simple as a song could do to the body as part of a psychological reaction.
Taki didn't offer a verbal reply; he didn't want the magic that was slowly being cast by the performance to be interrupted in anyway. So, he simply placed his hand over the back of Bunta's giving it a slight squeeze before letting it rest there. The start of operas or recitals always left Taki with odd mixed emotions. While on the one hand he loved to watch and listen, loosing himself in an altogether different place, the other side of him was regretful, almost sad. He could have done it, played for a big orchestra, but he'd just never followed through. And the most annoying thing was, he didn't know why.
Still, Taki wasn't about to question fate or fortune or whatever you wanted to call it because it had lead him to this point in his life and right now he wouldn't change it for anything. So the sniper settled back into his seat with a sip of the crisp champagne, keen eyes picking out as much as they could as the performance unfolded on the stage below.
Similarly quiet, Bunta allowed himself to merely sit back and enjoy the performance - his knowledge of French was limited to what he knew of Spanish and Portuguese, but the story told itself - even without the synopsis in the program, his prior knowledge of the opera, or the language. A younger Bunta had even been likened to Carmen... as an adult, he found the idea ridiculous, but there had been a time in his life...
Losing himself in the performance, he did not notice his fingers lacing gingerly with Taki's or how he managed to drink the remainder of the champagne in his glass. Time slipped away until the intermission, leaving him a bit stunned when it actually came - it surely could not have already been that long... he let out the breath he did not realize he had been holding, straightening in his chair to work out the unseen kinks in his shoulders.
It had been exhilarating, that's the only word Taki could think of. When he had heard that Carmen was wild, passionate and driven, they hadn't been joking. It was a shame the end that was in store for her, it almost made Taki not want to stay for the second half. He was woken from his reprieve as Bunta moved his hand away and stretched, arching his back out of the chair.
"Stiff? We can take a walk if you like," Taki suggested, though part of him didn't want to go anywhere in all honesty. No, now that his senses were coming back to him and he could almost feel the intensity of the performance on his skin…. "Mmm, maybe we could try out these strawberries instead be a shame to waste them."
"Maybe I just need a massage," Bunta teased, giving Taki a come-hither look, though he stood to get some blood flowing to his legs. Really, it had nothing to do with being sore, and everything to do with being fixed to his chair - totally enraptured. It was, indeed, a wonderful performance. "I'm no good at staying still - I'm one of those guys that dances with the mop when I clean and serenades cookies and the like." Why he was sharing this information - that was lost on him. He was, at least, making himself out to be a complete dork in front of his significant other. Good work, Marui. Really.
"...Yeah, those strawberries sound good before I say anything else incriminating," he said with a laugh, sitting gingerly on Taki's knee, wrapping an arm around his shoulder to steady himself.
Taki was laughing to, he couldn't help it, a bright smile on his face as Bunta looked like he wanted to shoot himself in the foot before perching himself on the sniper's lap. "Oh, man. I'd love to see that and there I was thinking me and Rin were bad for that stuff. We watching Moulin Rouge last week and decided to recreate the whole remixed version of Lady Marmalade. I think Rin wants to be Christina Aguilera or something." Really, such things weren't silly or stupid, just guys having fun. "Personally I'd like to recreate the tango scene… so powerful." Taki said as he reached over for the chilled bowl.
"Oh, and just one thing," the sniper said as he picked out one the looked sweet and juicy tracing the red berry over Bunta's lower lip and holding light violet eyes. "I'm not going to snap or break, you don't have to touch me like I might just crumble, because I won't." Taki kept his voice light, his tone free from defense or accusation he didn't want Bunta treating him with kid gloves.
Bunta's eyelashes flickered in the briefest of blinks, though he otherwise returned Taki's gaze just as steadfastly. "I believe you may be mistaking fondness for caution." He moved his hand to straighten Taki's bowtie - the sniper kept fiddling with it and leaving it crooked. "Both are ways of taking care - I touch softly to convey that what I'm feeling is soft. I'm not concerned about injuring you." Far from it, really... there could very well come a time and a place for the more passionate and rough around the edges. Maybe... sooner rather than later.
The thought may have been present in Bunta's eyes, but he did not mind - every human being, Taki included, liked being desired. Not by everyone, granted, and always for different reasons, but it was nonetheless a good feeling. Light purple eyes drifted away from Taki's, down to the strawberry, and then back to Taki as Bunta went silent.
Maybe he was, but Taki still felt better having it out in the open, it was also the fact that softness was a somewhat alien concept to him. But there was something in Bunta's eyes that made his throat a little dryer than the champagne had made it, and possibly contradicted the gentleness of his touches. Tilting his head to one side slightly, Taki found himself trying to read just what it was Bunta was asking for as the low murmur of the other guests below faded into irrelevance. Well, if Bunta wasn't going to eat it…. The sniper put it to his own mouth biting the bottom half clean off, mmmmm, very fresh and juicy. "You don't now what you're missing." Taki said finishing it off and licking the sticky juice that had escaped off his finger tips with a grin that was anything but innocent.
Two most certainly could play that game, but why bother? Bunta tightened both arms around Taki's shoulders, pulling himself closer, and pressed their lips together firmly, slowly and deliberately running his tongue over Taki's lower lip to take in the traces of the juice left behind by Taki's teasing. It was a bit too sweet for a strawberry - they had probably been soaked and chilled in sugar water; it was a technique that Bunta, himself, had employed when making desserts that called for strawberries. If it were the right time of year for strawberries, it was needless, but they were on the tail end of the season.
Drawing back, Bunta gave Taki a coy glance. "Something sweet, it seems," he responded.
There was a part of Taki that suddenly really couldn't be bothered to carry on with this little game, not when he had a lapful of boyfriend doing wonderful things like that. So he didn't bother reaching for the bowl again instead letting one hand slide under Bunta's tux jacket and run up his back pulling him closer as he latched onto the redhead's lips for more firmly. There was always a bolt of nervous excitement that went from him when he kissed Bunta and now was no exception as he tasted the faint traces of champagne on his full lips. Tongue brushing over them in a request, his other hand worked it's way up into Bunta's thick and luxurious hair.
That sort of behavior was entirely permissible. A soft sound of pleasure worked its way out of Bunta’s throat as he parted his lips invitingly and let himself melt against Taki. Damn that hand in his hair, anyway - Bunta was not only at Taki’s mercy, but could not possibly imagine anywhere else he would rather be. This was getting to be a lot less like fondness mingling with lust and a lot more like… emotions… perhaps even complicated ones. Not that it was a problem - he could deal with emotions, even complicated ones. It was his business.
Drawing away, he reached for a strawberry, leaning his head against Taki’s shoulder, and taking a bite. “Will you play for me, sometime? The piano, I mean.”
Taki couldn't help but pout a little at the loss of those lips; he liked them, a lot. He could also think of better things to do on top of a grand piano rather than playing it…. "Find me a piano and I'll play anything you want me to, Bunta. And if I don't know it, I'll learn it for you." There hadn't been much he couldn't turn his hand to while he had been playing and again he was stung with a regretful pang over just stopping like he did. With a slight sigh, Taki placed a light kiss on the top of Bunta's head.
Finishing off the last of his strawberry, Bunta felt all of twelve for a moment - the snuggling and the question of the piano and the kiss atop his head. Silently, he tilted his head up, brushing his lips across the prone skin of Taki’s throat. “Careful, Taki, I might start to think I’m special,” he teased, nipping lightly at the younger man’s earlobe. One hand slid under Taki’s coat, nestling against warm ribs that expanded and contracted with every breath. It could be easy to forget what a wonderful machine was man until one thought about just what made man tick - what a startling number of coincidences had to be in place for man to evolve just as he did and have him work exactly perfectly straight off the factory floor.
Thoughts like these were lost to brushing away dark hair, craning his neck to steal another kiss - this one firm, but brief. Direct, but quietly so.
Taki took a slight, sharp intake of breath as those lips ghosted over his neck, eyes fluttering shut for the briefest of moments before Bunta spoke and he couldn't help but smile to himself. Why wouldn't Bunta be special to him, he was intelligent and charming and had this magical ability he calm and reassure him. Taki felt a peace around Bunta that he never thought he'd find again. Still, hands and lips woke him from his thoughts and for whatever reason the sniper decided to voice them as he left his hand rest on the side of Bunta's face, his thumb bushing over his cheek. "Then do, because you are." And Taki leaned forward, but not to steal his lips, he bushed past nuzzling red hair out of the way and letting wet lips kiss there way along his neck.
Low in his throat, Butna hummed, tilting his head away from the kisses, his eyes fluttering closed. Something just below his skin seemed to crawl with unspoken promises behind those kisses - a desire that snuck past suits and fancy opera boxes on its toes, raising goosebumps on his arms. "Taki," he breathed the name out, his hand wandering away from Taki's ribs to sink lower, playing across his abdomen, fingers catching against the buttons of the pressed white shirt. The other hand crawled along Taki's neck, creeping through his hair. "I want you." He threw the words out there, knowing they would not come back after he did - but also knowing that they could not go unsaid.
He turned his head back to look Taki in the eye, knowing his own eyes were dark with thoughts that were so far away from opera or tuxedos or Taki's crooked bowtie. The lights lowered, people filed back to their seats, and Bunta moved to straddle Taki's lap, laying both of his hands palm-flat on Taki's shoulders, leaning down to kiss him properly, ignoring completely the surge of music behind him for the entr'acte.
It was amazing what three simple, softly spoken words could do to a man. Maybe it was the weight and promise behind them, but Taki found himself really not caring for clever or logical thought right about now. Not when Bunta was sitting astride his lap and his lips and tongue were doing wonderful things to his own. Moaning softly into his mouth he let his hands brush lightly over the redhead's hips, Taki let them move around to his back and tightening his grip pulled Bunta flush against his own body. The feel of the other’s solid weight was delicious, pushing him back into the high-backed, cushioned seat as he left his hands run firmly up his back. Stupid jacket.
Coincidentally, stupid jacket was the exact thought Bunta was having in that moment, moving his arms away so he could worm out of the jacket without breaking the kiss - with the soft sound of the cloth dropping and folding over itself, it hit the floor at Taki’s feet. Both hands settled on Taki’s cheeks, Bunta edged forward just a touch so that, sitting straight, he hand to angle his head down to continue the kiss that had become more of a string of short, breathless kisses - each dragged out just long enough to tempt Taki, but also cut off just soon enough to not give him the satisfaction of a deeper kiss.
Each small brush of Taki’s fingers was delightfully maddening - Bunta wondered what his fingers would feel like against bare flesh, or if they would be brave enough to migrate to another part of his body. Just the thought of that sent a shiver through Bunta as he pulled back from the kiss enough to meet Taki’s eyes. Beautiful and alive - that was his impression of Taki - he was beautiful and alive. It was all there in soft eyes that never quite lost the glimmer of a child, despite everything.
Ironic as it might be, Taki was one of the most human people Bunta had ever met. Ironic only due to the thought process of most snipers.
By the time Bunta suddenly pulled back to let light purple bore into light brown, Taki was breathing heavy and shallow and he could almost hear his heart thundering in his ears. Somewhere he was faintly aware that the orchestra was striking up a score that was familiar to him, but it was quickly lost in the hum of desire and tension that was coursing through his body. Then a small sly grin was tugging at the corner of his mouth and while he knew following through on the thought would likely jam his body nastily for a moment, but it wasn't something the sniper couldn't deal with easily. And he could take the worst of the impact for Bunta.
The chair wasn't bolted to the floor as using his foot; Taki planted it squarely against the balcony wall and pushed hard. As the back of the chair hit the floor it did knock the breath out of him, but the sniper paid it no heed as he pushed and rolled till he had Bunta pinned under him. Much better. And then lips were at the analyst's throat as dexterous fingers pulled at his bowtie and small top buttons which were tight and annoying. Taki almost snarled at them before they finally gave way allowing the sniper to run his tongue along that now lovely exposed collarbone and into the hollow of Bunta's throat.
Bunta fought hard against natural impulses - said impulses would have kept them in motion and would have thrown Taki through the curtain and into the door behind them. No one got the better of Bunta unless he wanted them to - and he certainly was not about to fight this. The tongue against his skin was another maddening new development - warm at the principle contact, but leaving his skin cool and begging for more. Better yet, if he could find a way to get Taki out of that damn jacket.
With practiced ease, Bunta undid the buttons of Taki’s jacket, worming one of his legs out from under Taki. The small effort was worth it - he was able to hook his leg up around the slighter man, moving his leg slowly down to tug at the cloth of the jacket, pulling it tight across the sniper’s shoulders. This resulted in his hips bucking up against Taki’s body, grinding their bodies together. Bunta had the sense to attempt to gag himself, for the sake of other opera patrons, but he could not help a low, grumbling moan that escaped him.
Taki was nowhere near as restrained as Bunta bucked up against him in some bizarre attempt to get the fitted tux jacket off him. With a throaty groan at the wonderful friction right where it was needed most he nipped at the collarbone he'd been paying special attention to. He then pulled back to look down at the older man with a cheeky grin. "You know, all you have to do is ask rather than trying to dislocate limbs. Not that I'm complaining or anything." Taki said moving back enough to shrug the offending article off and toss it somewhere behind him. The sniper then set about working the rest on those nasty small dress shirt buttons open, gun callused finger tips moving under the crisp white fabric to run over warm skin.
“More interesting my way,” replied the doctor, a wicked grin dangling on his lips - the expression melted away for the hands on his chest. Finally, he thought, though any verbal expression of the thought sounded a bit more like a heavy exhale, nearly a sigh. He lifted his own hands to Taki’s shirt, tilting his head a bit to the side, watching his own fingers move with eerie grace and speed to unwork the buttons that could be difficult for a man who was not used to them - his practice came from one too many formal dinners for the sake of his company when he was younger, getting dressed and undressed quickly like a stage performer to make public appearances, and then quickly put on something casual for good PR.
Like unwrapping a present, he pulled at the end of the bowtie, last, pulling it free of Taki’s neck and letting it drop to the side, his hands wrapping under Taki’s arms and up around his back, casually tracing his spine with both sets of fingers, pausing only when he encountered the waistline of Taki’s pants. He bent his other leg at the knee, doing a crunch to catch Taki’s lips, again - the shake of protesting abdomen muscles be damned.
Being rid of that damned bowtie was ecstasy in its own right as far as Taki was concerned, there was a reason why his work tie was never done up properly. Well, that was until Bunta was putting that wonderfully talented mouth of his to good use again. Purring his approval, Taki flicked open the last button as he lowered himself back over the redhead the sudden touch of skin on skin dragging an almost wanton moan from the sniper. Fingers curled against that skin, blunt nails raking now Bunta's sides not hard enough to scratch, but still firm. Taki couldn't help but grind his hips down as his hands hit the waistband of black pants, tracing the skin just above it as they moved around to the front. He didn't rush, if Bunta wanted him to stop, he would.
Pulling back from the heated, wet kissing, Taki was all but panting from breath tracing the tip of his tongue down Bunta's chin and then down his throat and over the bump of his adams apple.
Bunta could not help the growl that curled out of his throat, his eyes falling shut and his head tilting back away from the touch - nor could he help the way the muscles of his thighs tightened, clamping around Taki. Good lord. His lower back arched, rolling his groin against Taki’s body in a subconscious effort to create friction - and one that brought a louder, throatier moan out of the older man.
Though truly needless to say, between the wandering hands that had since found their way down over the back of Taki’s pants, settling over the back pockets of the slacks, and the heavy rise and fall of his chest with each of his body’s subconscious attempts to press itself closer to Taki, Bunta still felt the need to repeat himself. “I want you,” he rasped out, nearly driven mad by the brush of warm breath against his neck. A heartbeat later, he elaborated, “Now.”
Taki might have come up with some witty retort if his mind wasn't being so totally overridden by a heady mix of lust and desire. He also found himself wishing he'd had the thought to wear a skirt or even a bloody dress as his pants tightened a little more around him, mans clothes were so annoyingly restrictive. His fingers fumbled slightly with the zipper of Bunta's pants, more due to all the hip grinding and rolling rather than anything else. But it was soon down and the sniper grinned against the damp skin he'd been suckling on as be palmed the redheads erection, rubbing against it firmly. "What do you want, Bunta?" Taki suddenly had the mind to ask in a strained breathy voice. "You want me to fuck you or get you off?" His own words sent a powerful rush of arousal through him making him bite at his lower lip to keep some form of clear thought.
Bunta’s cheek pressed hard against the floor, eyes shut tight against the sudden shot of stimulation from Taki’s hand. His stomach knotted, his throat tensing hard as though attempting to swallow around an ice cube, and he could feel a tingle making its way up his spine. Each passing fraction of a second his muscles trembled harder from sheer restraint - fighting against themselves. “Fuck me,” murmured the older man, the words tightening something low in his abdomen even further. Purple eyes, unusually dark with lust, fixed back on Taki. His hands slid farther down from where they rested, his fingers digging into Taki’s inner thighs.
That very nearly snapped Taki's control there and then, but then just as suddenly knowing what Bunta wanted caused him to focus a little more. One hand moved up to brush through sweat damp red hair and caress his cheek, a gentle smile on his face that seemed out of place given the heavy weight of lust in his own eyes.
It didn't take more than a moment to be rid of any remaining clothing as Taki paused only briefly to grab a few things from his jacket pocket. And then he was back over Bunta, kissing him hard and deep, his tongue teaseling at its twin as his hands urged the others legs a little wider. "Relax…" the sniper murmured against red, kiss swollen lips, coating slim fingers with the small packet of lube moving them to stroke at the tight ring of muscle.
Don’t you come prepared? The thought was fleeting, at best, as Bunta’s teeth sunk down into Taki’s lower lip - gently enough to show that he meant no harm, but certainly more aggressive than he had been. His mind focused sharply at the keenly initially awkward sensation of fingers inside him. There was always that moment where it was more of a tickle - it caused the muscles to tighten immediately at the intrusion, and he had to remind himself to relax - it became easier with each stroke, the tickle becoming an impatient throb as small sounds bubbled out of him.
Bare shoulders braced against carpet (oh, that was not going to work when it came to putting clothes on again - but Bunta could not be bothered to care at the moment), Bunta’s hips moved obligingly against Taki’s hand, directing him subconsciously toward the prostate, the throb only becoming worse as his body begged him for release.
Taki kept the pace steady as hard as it was with those sweet noises coming from Bunta, the slight show of aggression causing him to growl deep in his throat. The sniper didn't mind pain of any form during foreplay or sex, he'd become more than used to it almost to the point he couldn't truly enjoy himself unless there was some. Whether that was a good or bad thing was up for debate, but he also knew not everyone was as masochistic as he was.
Stroking a little deeper, Taki curled his fingers pressing a little firmer. And when Bunta's body jerked against his and he moved the analysts mouth with his own to muffle his cry, he knew he'd found that wonderful little nerve. Paying that same spot some insistent attention, Taki was forcing his brain to think about how to do this, he didn't want Bunta to be one big walking carpet burn there really was nothing worse. So, he pulled away, sitting back with his back against the wall and urging Bunta to follow and straddle him.
Limbs shaking from the barely contained cries of pleasure and the horrible or wonderful fingers that had found the exact spot to extract that sort of sound - skin ablaze from every slight brush of Taki’s skin on his, Bunta could hardly form a logical thought as moved in pursuit of Taki. Wordlessly, he settled on Taki’s lap, knees folded and rested against the wall on either side of Taki’s body. His hands rested palm-flat against the wall, forcing him into a vertical push-up to catch Taki’s lips - though only briefly before moving farther down his chin - the hollow of his throat - his collarbone…
He straightened, going once more for a kiss that was this time maddeningly gentle - one hand moved to lay against Taki’s chest, the pad of his thumb brushing over Taki’s nipple just enough to make it fully erect. His own body was urging him to stop delaying his own pleasure, but if there was one thing Bunta could not be more aroused by, it was his partner being aroused by him.
Firm hands slide down Bunta's back to massage and squeeze at that rather lovely backside and to pull him further into his lap, a hiss passing his lips as their erections rubbed and pressed together. God, he wanted him, but Bunta seemed intent on trying to tease him further and Taki was torn between letting him and throwing him back on the floor and fucking him. Instead the sniper found his head lolling back against the wall with a dull thud his eyes rolling into the back of his skull as Bunta's hands and lips played him. One hand did find its way back between those firm ass cheeks intent on rubbing and teasing at his entrance as his other clawed lightly across his back. "Bunta… mmm, want in you."
Bunta’s spine straightened rather abruptly at the touch, arching his lower back naturally, and he fixed heavy-lidded eyes on Taki. When he spoke, his voice was low-pitched and husky, as though he had been screaming all night. “How do you want me?” It was going to require a bit of shifting to get them into any sort of position that would work - and Bunta was more than ready to start seeking out something that would work between the taunting ministrations on his back and the growing pressure for release. Letting his hands slide down Taki’s body, fingers passing over ribs and thin sides, he ended up with his hands between his own thighs and Taki’s hips, his thumbs reaching just far enough to tease at the very edges of soft pubic hair.
Taki grinned, that was an easy enough question to answer as a shudder ran through him more at the thought of where Bunta's hands were and how close they were to his aching hard on. Hands drifting down to grip at the doctors hips he encouraged him up lift himself up a little so he could scoot forward a little. Taki let out a shaky moan, trailing his lips over Bunta's chest as he felt the damp head of his erection brush against the older mans pucker. His hips gave a slight buck at the mere though of the tight heat just breaching the ring of muscle.
Immediately, a small sound escaped Bunta - his body reacted naturally, tightening, though it took far less convincing to relax his muscles, this time. Given a moment to adjust, he was able to lower himself slowly, pushing Taki inside himself as he moved. A tremble ran through Bunta’s body - the desire to be touched driving him quietly mad as he curled himself enough to give Taki one last lingering kiss to distract him from the way his legs wrapped around Taki’s back, giving the older man more leverage to move. For that one loitering moment, he was aware of the sweat congealing on his neck and shoulders, and the cold air of the air conditioning assaulting his body - he was aware of the stupefied silence of the audience around them, and the amazing spike of the music as a particularly talented soprano hit a note that seemed to defy the human vocal range.
It all disappeared again as he began to move, bringing his hips up until the head of Taki’s erection was all that remained inside Bunta’s body - this movement was slow and deliberate, though as he moved his hips again, with a deep groan - so low it might defy the other end of the vocal spectrum - every muscle that had been tensed keeping itself strictly in control was set free, a sensation almost like suddenly falling gripping at his stomach as he finally brushed his own fingers over the tip of his own penis, pulling back the sensitive foreskin, as his eyes began to lose focus from the rush of sensations.
Taki bit at his bottom lip breathing unsteady and hard as Bunta lowered himself, focusing and keeping still and letting the other man slide down as fast or slow has he wanted. For one horrible moment he thought he might come from the sheer tightness and heat that was closing around him. But with a clenching of his jaw and the bitter taste of copper on his tongue, Taki kept himself the right side of oblivion. And then Bunta was moving and there were strong legs wrapped around him pulling them closer together and it was torturously slow. The sniper couldn't help his hips bucking up an arm running up the redhead's spine as his lips sought out his throat.
While Bunta had the most control over the pace that didn't stop Taki from adding to it, moving his hips in small circles and tilting the angle to find that wonderful little spot again. Oblivious to anything but mix of sweet breathy moans and wet lips on damp flesh, the hand that had been resting on Bunta's hip moved between them, finger tips ghosting over the back of the doctors own hand. The snipers hips bucked again, breaking their rhythm for a moment, at the thought of the other man touching himself. But then he was teasing at the shaft with his own fingers before wrapping his hand around it firmly.
A strangled sound escaped Bunta’s lips, his own rhythm being thrown off. He began to move more quickly, rocking into Taki’s hand - urging him forward with the erratic thrusts of his hips and heavy breaths that accented every movement of his pelvis. The pace was maddening, now - it became difficult to press his lips to Taki’s skin, instead finding himself more dragging his lips over sweat-slick skin, something building in his chest that felt like a scream kept under heavy pressure - it mirrored the tightness low in his abdomen, and back. That feeling of anticipation mixed with caging in something that clawed and scratched at the bars to be let out…
When Bunta came, it was with a heavy shudder that sent a shock wave through his whole system, a cry finally escaping him that was thankfully muffled into the exposed flesh of Taki’s shoulder.
Taki wasn't by default a quiet person when it came to sex. So when Bunta's muscles spasmed and clamped down on him the sniper turned his head to bite down hard on his bicep as his scream caught in his throat. Emptying himself deep inside his lover, Taki's hips didn't stop until Bunta had slumped against him and the lasts waves of his own orgasm left him.
With a last conscious thought, the sniper flopped down on his back taking Bunta with him and panting hard. Eyes closed, his hands idly traced patterns over the redheads back. Touches meant to sooth rather than arouse as one hand found its way into damp tousled red hair. Below them part of him was aware that the audience was applauding. Taki didn't care that he had missed the second half, he hadn't wanted to she a vibrant and passionate beauty like Carmen die anyway. He nuzzled into Bunta's neck, arms tightening a little in some kind of odd reflex. "You okay?"
Regaining his composure about him - mostly a matter of bringing his breathing under control and allowing the soft trembles of his body to be soothed away by the hand on his back - Bunta was a little surprised by the question. “Okay?” He lifted himself half-off Taki, smiling as much as tired muscles would allow him, and meeting the sniper’s keen eyes. “I’m a lot more than okay.” Pressing his lips once more to Taki’s in a reassuring kiss, Bunta could not help but morn the fact that he could not continue to hold Taki there - that they would have to get quickly dressed so they could leave the opera house.
Despite this, with the last fleeting thought that he had somehow missed Taki’s belly ring before, Bunta settled back against the other man to steal what few remaining moments of close proximity he could.