Script log -- Oishi and Fuji
Date: October 13, 2005 (a year ago)
Rating: NC17
Summary:
A year ago, Oishi was promoted. Masunori-san, his boss, was kind enough to throw a welcoming dinner for the new hires. Oishi attended and met a certain photographer. ...His life would never be the same.
[ooc: ...Whew. This took three weeks to write. It's an insanely long smut log, and Fuji!mun totally wore me out. Here's hoping Saeki won't hunt Oishi down and remove his manhood... ]
Masunori-san was kind enough to take all of the new hires out to a welcoming dinner.
Oishi’s was no exception. He was joined by another new administrator, a giggly woman named Sugihara Kimi, who kept ignoring the ring on Oishi's finger and sitting much too close. Oishi Sakurako was not invited, and Oishi sighed just a bit. The way it worked was that she was sitting at home with ramen all ready to be cooked, for when he stumbled in late with the inevitable hangover from the party.
He'd not been happy to leave her behind. They were no newlyweds; they'd been together for five years, after all. But they spent every night in their own quiet, comfortable, and happy way, each engaged in their own pursuit but close to each other, and Oishi found himself resenting the party just a little for prying him out of his comfortable shell.
He put a good face on it, however. Masunori-san was doing this for his sake (and Sugihara-san's) after all, and he was hardly going to spit in the face of such kindness.
But the event was not just for him. Masunori had turned it into an excellent opportunity to meet people from abroad, a group of tourists on a diplomatic mission (or so Oishi had been informed), and Oishi was interested in seeing how the foreigners would react to a traditional-style Japanese sake bar.
So, prying Sugihara off his arm (again), his party met the other group in the middle of the traditional room, and everyone intermingled to sit around the table.
*
The plan was simple; each agent knew their roles well and would carry them out as planned. Since Fuji himself wasn’t as foreign looking as his other co-workers, he was introduced as the interpreter for the group, just an amateur photographer who needed some extra income until he turned professional. The spy weaved in and out of the ladies, helping those who needed someone to help gain the attention of their individual targets; that was his role for the night, support and clean up. An alarm was triggered when one of his co-workers, a redheaded woman, gave the signal that she needed assistance. Nodding, Fuji approached the man in the suit sitting at the corner.
“Are you enjoying yourself today?” Fuji asked warmly.
Oishi was besieged by women. His wife told him that he was handsome enough, and he knew he kept himself well. He attracted a certain kind of woman -- the kind who tended to want to dominate, who mistook his politeness for submission. His own wife was none of these things; wasn't pushy at all, and above all things allowed him the time and space for his own pursuits. She was really his best friend, and with two women on either side of him that night, he found himself wishing more and more for her calm, collected presence at his side, if for no other reason than to get the other women to leave him alone.
Oishi couldn't have been happier when he heard an undeniably male voice cutting in to the conversation. Ah, it was the interpreter. He turned and blinked yet again; he'd felt himself staring at their introduction, and was once again compelled to stare. Oishi wasn't quite sure why. Perhaps it was the strangely feminine tambour of the voice, coupled with the undeniably male figure. It compelled him to look, and look again.
Sakurako was going to hear all about this when he got home. Oishi was staring to save up details; yes, that was it.
“Join in on the fun.” The photographer smiled again. “Everyone else is.” Fuji looked over his shoulder at the increasingly loud crowd. The alcohol was beginning to have effect on those that were gathered there. “May I sit?”
Oishi smiled gratefully at the man and moved to the side. "Please, please sit. So you're a photographer AND an interpreter?" Sugihara tugged at Oishi's arm, and he turned. "Yes, Sugihara-san? Oh -- this is..." He'd recall the name in a moment. "Ah. Fuji-san. Fuji-san, this is Sugihara Kimi. She's the other new hire tonight." Oishi couldn't keep the slight look of distaste out of his eye as she leaned forward over his body to bow. She already reeked of alcohol. Oishi shot Fuji a slightly desperate glance.
“Nice to meet you.” Fuji returned the greeting. Noticing the man’s look out of the corner of his eyes, the spy smiled to himself. With careful words, the slim man half suggested and half pushed her towards one of his ‘free’ co-workers. “Better?” He turned back to Oishi as Sugihara and her designated companion for the night moved to another corner.
Oishi had never felt more grateful. "Fuji-san, you're a lifesaver." He gave Fuji a small, shy smile. And then, with a start, realized that his wedding ring... Earlier, Sugihara-san had taken it playfully, saying that she'd wanted to see what it felt like to be married. He'd let her slip it off his hand...she'd cause a ruckus otherwise. He made a mental note to get it back before he left for the night...oh dear, how annoying. And how lovely that Fuji-san was rescuing him. Oishi made an effort to think of something entertaining to say to keep the kindly man close. "So how are the Americans? I haven't met many foreigners before. Are they as loud as the rumors claim?"
“Only when you combine beer and sports.” Fuji chuckled softly. “Although if you want to meet some, here would be the place.”
Oishi felt a bit mesmerized. Did he want to meet other people? He felt his eyes drawn back to Fuji, still puzzling something out in his mind. There was a distinctly feminine vibe from such a clearly masculine fellow. "If you don't mind sitting with me for a moment, Fuji-san, I'd prefer to quietly celebrate my new position." His smile was a little less shy. "I only have tea, though. I thought perhaps it wouldn't be advisable for me to drink alcohol." He shot Fuji a glance, letting the faint hint of mischief emerge.
The spy only smiled politely as his first attempt to hook Oishi up failed. “Tea is fine.” Fuji reached for the teakettle. “Here, let me.”
Oishi sighed and sat back on his heels. He let his eyes dwell on Fuji's face again. It was difficult to get a good look at Fuji's eyes -- he wasn't quite sure why, but it caused him to want to make the man open his eyes up wide for him. He touched Fuji's wrist lightly and turned his hand over. "Mind if I look at your palm?" He grinned reassuringly. "Don't worry, I don’t have much skill at palm reading. But there's something I wanted to see..."
The younger man blinked in surprise but made no objection at the touch. “Err… yes, of course.” Discretely looking over Oishi to another operative, giving her an ‘No, I have no idea what he wants’ look along with a ‘check back in five, make that ten’ motion.
Oishi turned Fuji's palm gently to the light, casting him an apologetic glance. His mother had taught him this. It was almost shorthand for judging character, but more than that, he wanted to see something specific. The hand was manly enough, the fingers lithe and capable. But the lines... he traced one curiously. "It says you have many lives."
“You are looking at two of them. Smile!” Fuji pressed the shutter of small palm-sized camera that he had previously hidden in his pockets.
Oishi blinked, dazzled by the sudden light, and then laughed. He peered at the lines he'd meant to see, and then put Fuji's hand back on the teapot. He smiled, keeping secret what he'd discovered. "Thank you for that! I can tell you like your occupation." Oishi's grin grew wider. "...I like mine too, quite a bit. And...for the first time tonight I think it's sunk in that I'm finally at headquarters." His grin grew even more, and he leaned close. "Being here next to you is definitely helping me feel celebratory," he said, and...then it hit him. Fuji's scent.
“I enjoy it, even if the money could be a bit more.” The feeling that had begun to spring up in the pit of Fuji’s stomach was best described as déjà vu, was this man coming on to him? “I’m glad. You are supposed to be here to enjoy yourself.” The spy smiled warmly as he gently filled the other man’s cup with tea.
Oishi's eyes clouded just a little. So the man was of ambiguous sexuality, or so his palm had said. He forced himself to sit back on his heels and move away from the other man. He cupped the tea in his hands and raised it. "To the kindness of a stranger," he said, his expression grateful again. He briefly thought about adding that his wife would thank Fuji too, for rescuing Oishi from predatory women, but decided against it. And then wondered to himself why...
It was probably not surprising considering how ambiguous Fuji himself was. Despite having every trait of a male, so many parts of the man were as feminine as the women in the room. Still, the strange mix did not seem awkward when presented in the package that was Fuji Syusuke, in fact, it only seemed right that the man was presented in this way and no other. The photographer filled his own cup and raised it in answer to Oishi’s action. “To the lives that we should live.” The blue eyes opened and turned to the administrator as he spoke the words.
Oishi's breath ceased. Heart almost stopped. He was falling, and he wasn't sure where he was going anymore. His hand moved almost without his knowledge, and he stared down to find it gripped hard around Fuji's wrist. "I," he started, staring at his body's betrayal. Once, in fifth grade, he'd caught himself staring at the other boys in class. He went home and asked his mother what it might mean... Her lecture lingered in his ears for days, weeks, months after. After that, he'd conditioned himself to NOT look, never look. Never let his eyes stray. ...And thought that the urge was long gone. "I..." He tried to release his hand. It was locked around Fuji's wrist, and instead of releasing, his thumb touched the entirely masculine skin, feeling it curiously.
The clear blue eyes widened in surprise as he felt the other took possession of his wrist. “Yes? Oishi-san?” The voice was gentle and slightly confused. “Are you feeling unwell?”
Oishi nodded. And then shook his head. Actually, he was feeling...strangely free, and it was heady. The feeling coursed through his blood -- his celebration, the culmination of many years of dedicated work. He grinned, not knowing that his expression was turning the slightest bit predatory. "Fuji-san..." He half-breathed, half-groaned.
Fuji knew that voice, knew that expression well. “Yes?” He said again, not daring to look away to catch the eyes of his fellow operatives when the other was looking at him with such an intense gaze. “If you are unwell, maybe some fresh air would help?” The photographer suggested, touching Oishi’s forehead gently with his free hand as if taking his temperature.
Oishi's eyes got hotter. He raised his hand to Fuji's on his head, and touched the skin of his wrist again, but this time let himself explore the feeling. It was good...and Fuji's scent was still in his nose from the little movement. "Outside?" He agreed, hardly knowing to what, and stood. For a moment, there was no restaurant, and no party. Nothing but the man before him, promising him...fresh air. "Fresh air would be lovely." Oishi's voice sounded strange to him, because it was the same as ever.
“Let me grab my jacket.” Fuji answered, seeking an excuse to retreat temporarily. It would give him a chance to talk to his co-workers about the sudden change in plans.
Oishi moved in a strange daze to wait for Fuji outside. He felt as though that glimpse of blue had pushed him somewhere beyond his ordinary ken... Alice down the rabbit hole. His world was suddenly very, very different. He leaned back against the wall of the restaurant not heeding the people within, not even Sugihara-san's parting glance, nor his boss's questioning gaze. It was his night...he felt that his dreams were coming true.
Ducking into a deserted corner to speak with a few of his fellow operatives on the recent development, they all agreed that the task of diverting Oishi should fall onto Fuji instead: they had seen the look. It wasn’t too big of a deal anyway, their main goal was to isolate Masunori -- who would lead who away wasn’t important. After setting up a time for reconnoitering, the photographer quickly made his way out of the establishment. “Ah, Oishi-san…” Fuji smiled as he spotted the man outside, partially in shadows.
Oishi advanced toward Fuji, and hardly heeding the fact that the shadowy alleyway was no real cover at all, gripped him by the wrist again. He took a deep breath and let it out in a slight garbled laugh, a breathless one, with a growl at the bottom. "Fuji-san." Another step, and the wall was in back of Fuji. "Fuji-san..." Another low and breathless growl. He had Fuji up against the wall, trapped by his hand, still on Fuji's wrist, now pinned above his head; trapped by his fiercely, singingly awake body. He stared down, his eyes burning.
Fuji looked up at his ‘assailant,’ confusion in his deceptively innocent eyes. “Oishi-san.” The interpreter murmured, fear and vulnerability seeping into his expression. Yet the younger man put up no resistance, yet.
Oishi froze a moment, noting the fear, noting the softness of those blue eyes. But those eyes did more than give him pause -- they burnt into his skin again, and Oishi pushed his body hard and close, burying his nose down into the source of that scent, the soft skin of Fuji's neck. For the first time in his life, Oishi let go -- with a moan, he opened his mouth and tasted another man. It was intoxicating.
The surprised gasp went down the administrator’s throat, same with the moan that followed. The younger man’s eyes were on Oishi, frozen there by surprise by the other’s action. Although inwardly he complained that the other could pick a better location than where they were. Anyone who walked by could see them. The other man’s body was warm against his own, pressing Fuji almost painfully into the cold brick wall behind the spy.
That little noise in that strangely feminine -- but so masculine -- voice went straight to Oishi's gut. His fingertips dug into Fuji's wrist, gripping, trapping, digging almost painful wedges into the skin. Oishi needed more, wanted -- needed -- to feel what it would be like to have muscle under his palm. He gripped Fuji's shirt and yanked it from his pants, slipped his hands up to slide over the hard abdomen. Oishi would have cursed if he could, his pants tight around him. This -- this is what his body had been crying out for -- for years. "Uhhhh..." His mouth, his teeth, sank into Fuji's skin, his deepest urges were to devour.
“Oishi-san!” Fuji cried out from the pain exploding from the bite. “This… Please…” This was not good; they were not even a block away from the bar, certainly not distant enough. The establishment’s bathroom would be farther away than where they were. The younger man’s body writhed against the other, the friction between them only increased by the layers of fabric. In the continuing struggle, the hand that had been weakly pushing the other man away planted its elbow in Oishi’s chest in an attempt to get away, or at least to slow things down. “Please…” He breathed. “Stop… not here…”
Oishi felt the elbow jab his chest and sucked in his breath, his mind clearing a little from the lustful haze. He couldn't trust himself to say much; the words were too many or too few. He stepped back and nodded, softening his grip on Fuji's wrist, but hanging on to it with a determined hold. "Is your hotel room nearby?" Oishi heard the words leave his lips and felt an instant blush heat his cheeks. But. He wanted more. More...
“Err… yes, it is three blocks from here…” The younger man pointed in a direction, seeming to respond before he thought the question through.
Oishi turned in the direction of Fuji's hand and laced their fingers together, tugging, walking swiftly to the hotel. The three blocks passed in no time at all with hardly a word spoken, and Oishi was out of breath by the time they got to the elevator. He noted the surveillance camera in the elevator and had the presence of mind to do nothing more than stare at Fuji during the ride. Stare, and let his eyes linger everywhere, eating Fuji's body, letting himself finally, after so many years take pleasure in the male form.
Fuji’s eyes were downcast and the photographer tried to make himself as small as possible according to the persona he was enacting. Even still, in his years of being a spy, he had never had anyone stare at him so openly before. In a way, Fuji found it quite flattering. He did not struggle as he led the administrator to his single room on the seventh floor. And then turned around as he opened the door as if to bid goodnight.
Oishi simply pushed Fuji in, his hands already working on Fuji's coat -- thrown over a chair -- and Fuji's shirt. He was quiet and intent, and didn't even notice that the lights were dark in the hotel room, that in his haste they were stumbling over furniture. There was a wall again, and Oishi found them there, both hands finally resting on the smooth, hard wonder that was another man's chest. He was almost sobbing with desire.
In the darkness of his room, Fuji ceased struggling and gave into the older man’s almost primal need. Hands softly caressing Oishi’s face and side, he began to guide them gently towards the bed. The closet door that he had been pushed up against couldn’t have been that sturdy, not to mention not as comfortable.
Bed; right. Fuji brought them there, but Oishi pushed Fuji onto it with an insistent pressure, clambering over him. He sank his nose down to the joint of Fuji's neck and shoulder and inhaled again, bracing himself on one hand, the other one continuing to revel in the feeling of male musculature. He couldn't get over the fit of it in his palm. Like it was always meant to be; the feeling he'd never had during sex. Heat.
The younger man let out a soft sigh under the admin’s contact, his own fingers entangling themselves in the sheets and caressing the back of the man on top of him. For a moment the spy’s mind flashed something at him, but he pushed it forcibly aside, this was work. That was something else, if there were anything at all.
Oishi felt Fuji's fingers on his skin but almost ignored them. His voice was a moan, a sigh, as he sank his mouth down Fuji's neck. Oh...god...this was heaven. Was this what it was supposed to be like? Was this what it should have been like all along? He ate the flesh of Fuji's neck and gripped the other man hard at the hips, fingers almost bruising. Fuji's smell wrapped around him -- a delicate odor, but with an underlying punch of musk. Male musk. Intoxicating...
It was painful how hard the other was holding him, but the spy only groaned at the burning sensation. For a few moments Fuji contemplated the safety of letting the admin continue at the same rate the man was going. The admin was biting him, tasting him with considerable force and an almost animalistic look in his eyes. The spy was willing to go through with this for the sake of work, but not willing enough to end up on a small corner of the front page of tomorrow morning’s paper, headline reading ‘Photographer, raped and murdered in his hotel room, Page 3.’ He moaned the other’s name softly, deciding that the other man deserved further observation.
Oishi heard his name... took a deep breath and rose up a little, looking down at the man beneath him. "You are beautiful, Fuji-san. The most beautiful…man…I've ever touched." Okay, the only man. But still. The last word turned into a very small groan as his eyes lingered on the torso. He brushed his palm over flat muscles again, his member aching within his pants. Nipples. His wife liked this...He leaned down and teased. Brushed just the barest hint of his lips over the tip, touching oh-so-softy with his tongue, giving everything but the satisfaction of a hard touch.
The spy’s body arched slightly at the contact, and his arms automatically clutched at the older man. The groan was slightly louder this time, and the blue eyes fluttered close at the sensations. Fuji continued to murmur the other man’s name, calling softly to Oishi’s desire and need to come forth.
Oishi heard the little sounds get louder, and his fingers slid with not a little haste to Fuji's belt. His breath increased from the thought of it...fruit so long forbidden. What would it be like, under his hand, under his mouth, under his body? He stroked a slow finger down the fabric that clung to Fuji's length and felt an unexpected growl rise in the back of his throat.
The touch brought an excited gasp from the spy and his body cringed under Oishi’s weight. Lithe fingers clung to the administrator’s arms. Fuji wondered how long did his co-workers needed to have... Sexual intercourse couldn’t take that long, and with Oishi’s… normal personality; the man probably wouldn’t stay that long afterwards. The only way that they could get away with their plan was if Oishi went home immediately, and Fuji was pretty sure he could make that happen.
Oishi undid Fuji's pants, his breath catching in the back of his throat. He'd never even let himself look at another man's body. Never even looked at pornography -- because what would be the point of torturing himself? But...this would be his first -- forbidden fruit, the spoil of victory, his by right on this night...He pushed Fuji's pants apart, down, pushed down the underwear too, and slid lower. For a moment, eyes wide and unblinking, he let himself stare.
The spy laid flat on his back, looking extra vulnerable now that he was stripped down to his bare skin, revealing a lithe and well-defined body. In the moonlight seeping in from the window, Fuji studied the man on top of him with soft eyes. Documenting the man’s body language, breathing rate, skin temperature… everything in his mind.
"I...I want you...all of you. Want to taste and feel you. Can I?" Oishi's eyes ran back up Fuji's body with a heated gaze. He moved his mouth closer to Fuji's length and inhaled, shutting his eyes. Male. ...Incredibly good, like a punch of wasabi to his palate, the tingle from the scent jolting through him. The thought occurred to him that he had no idea what to do, but he pushed it away, vaguely amused. His body knew exactly what to do. He applied his mouth to the softly descending balls, noting with his tongue that the two of them were so different, for being so similar.
Long fingers intertwined themselves among the short black hair, massaging the other’s man’s head gently. Fuji didn’t have time to reply to the question before the other man found him there, invoking an even more excited gasp from the photographer. “Oishi-san!” The younger cried as he felt heat on where he was most vulnerable, his body reacting eagerly under the other’s ministration.
Oishi wondered, after all, if men and women were so different. His wife had liked this too...He pushed back Fuji's legs, knees bend close to his torso, and moved his tongue lower, shutting his eyes. His tongue found the texture strange. It was different, after all. But so much better...under his tongue, he could feel Fuji's body pulse, felt the twitch of muscles as he explored and pushed around the cleft. "Mmmmmmhhh..." His voice was foreign-sounding...aroused, as he'd never been for...for her.
There it was again, Fuji looked at the ceiling with his half-lidded eyes as his breathing started to quicken. Why must his mind insist on torturing him? This was work, another moan as he felt the other there, he wasn’t doing this for personal reasons. Besides, why would the other man care if he slept with other people, they were simply friends that occasionally… often did it because neither had girlfriends to alleviate the natural desires of a healthy male. The next thought that crossed the younger man mind was how he would hide the marks that were beginning to blossom on his skin from his silver haired ‘friend’.
Oishi tasted that place and felt an unfamiliar sound rise from his throat, a low growl that ripped through him, a mirror of the shock of lust that shot through his body. Had he ever felt this way? ...Never. Only in his most secret dreams as an adolescent, the ones he awoke from trembling... He let his tongue linger and felt it deeply. He wanted to memorize the texture, memorize the musky scent, keep it inside of him ...to remember forever. The lust in him demanded that he take Fuji, but...He paused, a bit of his natural tendency to worry appearing. "Condom. And..." How did men do this? "Lotion?" He didn't know.
Don’t laugh, don’t laugh, don’t laugh. “The nightstand.” The younger man breathed. “Second drawer.” Here’s a thought, Tezuka, educate your subordinates a bit next time you get a surplus in budgets. “I don’t have…” Fuji’s cheek blushed on command, although the excited state of the rest of his body most likely helped.
Oishi rummaged in the nightstand and saw the supply. Was far too innocent to wonder why the other man was so well stocked, and simply ascribed it to a careful attention to protection. He spotted hand lotion as well, and picked it up, weighing it in his palm. Strange...the strangest of things. He shut out the voice that added "unnatural" on top of that, and squirted some of the cool lotion out on his palm. He stared down at Fuji's member, lower at his opening, leaned down and kissed the tip with reverence. How lucky he was, for this first time, to be able to touch someone so beautiful.
For the mandatory twice a day since the day he used up his last bottle, Fuji cursed Victoria’s Secret for no longer carrying the apple-scented lotions. Granted it wasn’t the most masculine brand, but no one dared to tease the spy on his taste. All except one anyway and… the spy’s eyes squeezed shut at the sensation of Oishi’s lips on his member and shivered, slender legs rubbed themselves against the other’s body, seeking warmth and encouraging the older man to be braver.
Oishi was intelligent, and studied hard. When he got married, he studied the female physique. He was a conscientious man, and even though he found no pleasure in it, took care that his wife was always satisfied. His wife had been a virgin when they'd met. Oishi warmed the lotion in his hand; he could only imagine that this hurt. Once the lotion was warm, he stared down again with hunger and ran his finger along the other man's length. With the other, he took a deep breath, pressed in two fingers, sliding them in with a slow stroke. "Fuji-san..." he whispered this. "...Gomen."
Fuji only answered with a gasp that spoke of the pain of being penetrated; the younger man shifted his body to try to find some way to somehow relieve himself of the pain. Yet all he managed to do was move himself on top of the older man’s fingers, helping the other stretch and prepare him. He wondered if he should tell Tezuka about this mission, granted he didn’t know most of the details, maybe he should just inform the director that it happened, or maybe wait a few days and see if he could dig up anything.
Oishi ran his hand up Fuji's length, breath increasing from the heft of another man's erection in his palm. He tried to distract Fuji from the feeling...and noted with not a little amusement that it was easier dealing with a body so like his own. He gripped and massaged, imagined he was holding his own member, did what he liked best...stroked his hand over the top of Fuji's cock and down the other side, feeling the lotion slip and slide and heat under his hand. He worked his fingers into Fuji's body as gently as he could, and realized after a moment of feeling his fingers inside of Fuji that he was trembling...
“Oishi-san…” The photographer moaned, his body arching into the other man’s caress and probing. Opening his eyes again, Fuji peered down at the admin, his normally pale cheeks flushed with color. Five days perhaps? He would tell Tezuka in five days - that should give his co-workers ample time to clean up after tonight. The spy moaned again, and noticed that the other was almost worshipping his body with the tender and soft touches; he smiled at Oishi in an effort to calm the man down.
Oishi barely noticed the smile, trembling again in the effort to hold back his lust, keep his fingers gentle instead of rough, stroking instead of plundering. He narrowed his eyes, his focus going down to just...one body, the room, the feelings shooting between their skin. He leaned down again and kissed the tip of Fuji's erection, sliding it into his mouth with a hungry little sound. It felt inside of his mouth like nothing else he'd ever experienced, hot and hard and male... With his free hand he undid his pants, pushing them off. And he stroked the tight tissue until it felt like it was opening to him.
Fuji’s moaning increased in volume as the admin continued to work on the younger man, shutting down most of his conscious thinking. Fuji kept calling out the other’s name, although his voice broke when Oishi took him in, slender hips unconsciously thrusting into the warmth. Forcing himself to sit up, Fuji caressed the other’s face and neck and shoulder and anywhere he could reach, mouth letting out tiny needy gasps. Rubbing his thigh softly against the other man’s cheek, the spy encouraged the man to take him in deeper, faster.
Oishi felt Fuji's body suddenly respond and wondered what he'd done...perhaps it was this? He felt the hard lump of the prostate gland under his fingertips, rubbed it curiously. He...he wanted to see what that felt like too. His mouth kept up a soft nibbling, exploring, stroking. There was almost too much to taste and feel...
The stimulation caused the spy to exhale loudly and moan the other’s name, “Oishi-san…” Fuji gasped, hands moving to the admin’s face, cupping and trying to bring himself upward so that Fuji might kiss the other’s lips and maybe… reward the other a little.
Oishi gripped Fuji's wrist with a hand and stroked his lips over the palm, whispering Fuji's name. He kissed the spot on the palm that he'd found earlier and let his lips curve into the tiniest of smiles. But now was not the time...He removed his fingers from Fuji, sat back on his heels and stared down again, squirting more of the lotion onto his palms. He ran his palm over his own member, coating it with as much slippery lotion as he could put onto it. He turned Fuji onto his stomach with an urgent push. Rose up over him, gripped Fuji's hips and with a cry thrust himself into the other man.
Obviously Oishi had his own agenda and Fuji was willing to entertain that plan, even as the sudden intrusion caused his body to shudder. The spy let out a cry of pain. No amount of preparation was enough to amply open his body to accept the other man’s member. The photographer’s hands fisted on the sheets that covered the bed. Back arching at the explosion of sensations rippling through his veins, Oishi’s name still on his lips…
...And with that motion, Oishi felt his mind open wide, his body shiver, and his heart cry out. It felt like his first time ever. Not simply his first time with a man. His body felt complete, no matter that it was far too tight in Fuji, no matter that he had to push with hard tilts of his hips to gain ground inside of the other man. He braced himself on the bed and ran a hand beneath Fuji, finding again the other man's erection. This was too much...he groaned against Fuji's shoulder and held on to his self-control.
The photographer gasped once more as he felt a touch on his own member. “Oishi-san…” The younger man’s body was tense from the initial penetration, but as the feeling of pain began to subside, his muscles began to relax.
Oishi gritted his teeth, his mind dazed. So this was sex. He'd wondered. Once a week, for five years, he'd had something resembling sex with his wife. He'd had to save himself up for several days beforehand, until the physical need from his body was so much that any release would do. And she seemed to welcome it, enjoy it with great pleasure, his hands and mouth on her body, and then being taken by him. But Oishi had never been fully present for it, had never felt her touch jolt through his body the way Fuji's did...Fuji's skin an electric presence against his own, the smell just...right. Oishi moved his hand in a curious exploration, feeling every inch of the ridged member so like -- and unlike -- his own. And his own urgent need -- buried deep in Fuji's body, the tightness another indication that he was finally doing the right thing..."UUhhhh...Fuji-s-san..."
The spy was moaning, his fingers fisting on the bed sheets. The pale cheeks were beginning to take on a slight color as his body reacted to the pleasure that was beginning to generate from the contact.
Now what should Oishi do? There seemed to be so many things...he slowed his pace to a crawl, braced and moving in and out of Fuji at a snail's pace. What to taste, feel, see next? He felt downright greedy. He rolled them to their sides and ran a hand up Fuji's stomach to rub the strong muscles of his pecs, feeling the tiny nub so unlike a woman's nipple. And his fingertips explored the ridge of Fuji's tip. He let his mouth run wild again, licking the bumps of Fuji's spine, up into his hairline. Nuzzling the soft locks...
“Hmm…” Fuji closed his eyes as the other’s mouth and hands explored him. He sighed at the sensation of the hands on him, they were quite warm against his cool skin. Although it might be his imagination but he thought they shook a little, from inexperience maybe?
Oishi tried to still the slight shaking in his hands. He felt like a glutton, trying to slake his hunger all at one sitting. Later...his mind pushed that thought away. No, don't think about later. He pressed himself all the way in again, one hand descending to cup the other man's balls while the other kept exploring Fuji's member. And the smell...Oishi could shut his eyes, but couldn't block out the incredibly seductive scent.
The lithe body cringed lightly at the continuing touches; gentle moans falling from his lips. Hips grinded back gently, meeting the other half way and shivered as the feeling of Oishi intensified. Looking over his shoulder at the man on him, in him, Fuji again moaned the other’s name.
Oishi felt himself melt at that voice, and his own voice gave a low and almost helpless moan. He felt carried away by the other man, overjoyed that he was giving at least a little pleasure in return for ... all of this. He buried his mouth against Fuji's neck again, beneath his ear, and murmured something incoherent, almost like "Thank you..."
It was unclear if the spy heard the words, Fuji’s blue eyes half lidded and slightly glazed over with the pleasure that was starting to assault his senses. His arms reached back to tug the other’s head slightly forward so that Fuji could continue to let the moans and gasps drop freely from his mouth … right into Oishi’s ear.
Oishi hissed his breath in, his pace increasing. He hadn't wanted to speed this up, but he felt the blinding need drive him. His free hand slid everywhere, touched everything, while his other was engaged in the very strange feeling of stroking another man's member. It was almost like...almost like masturbation, to feel an erection in his hand like that, in front of him. Only -- SO very much not masturbation... The similarity in their bodies only served to make him more aware of the fission between them. "Fuji..." He moaned, feeling the other man's breath against his ear, and sank his lips to kiss his way down Fuji's neck.
The photographer’s usually cool body was starting to become heated, his breathing starting to come in gasps. Fuji writhed at the admin’s warm hands on his length, arms continued to hold the other in a backward embrace, the younger man softly whispered reassuring words to Oishi, urging the other to take the pace to the next level, each requests emphasized by the increasingly needy moans.
Oishi heard Fuji's words and nodded, letting the need drive him too. He rolled Fuji to his stomach, changing their position. He lifted Fuji's hips with his hands so that the other man was kneeling with Oishi behind him, curved his back over Fuji’s and drove in hard, fast..."AAHHhhh..." Wasn't sure any more what sounds he was making...
“Oishi-san…!” Fuji gasped as the other thrusted forcefully into him, opening his legs wider so that the older man could have an easier time. Slender hips rolled against each movement of the older man’s thrusts, welcoming the intrusion and even encouraging the rough usage of his body. Fuji’s back cringing as the quickened pace drove his shoulders into the bed, the spy’s cries became increasingly louder and louder.
Oishi had to shut his eyes again, the sight of Fuji's body beneath him making his control weaken. He felt...so...complete, inside of this nigh-stranger. Like the question that his body had asked him for years and years was finally answered. He drove in again and again, feeling the lust wash through him in an animal surge.
The spy’s body writhed and squirmed from the sensations that were starting to take over him. With his head and shoulder pressed into the mattress by the impact of the forces, his hips continued to drill back against the other’s, crying as every thrust into him brought a new wave of pleasure. The other man’s eagerness and intensity more than enough made up for the lack of experience.
Oishi ran his hand beneath Fuji's body again and gripped his member. He had no idea whether Fuji could come from this alone, but wasn't going to chance it...Stroked again, as best he could, moaning as his own erection was swallowed again and again. He leaned over to Fuji's ear and whispered the words, between moans..."Thank you...thank you..."
Between the powerful thrusts and the renewed warmth on his member, the cries quickly became screams, almost drowning out the other’s words as the spy called the admin’s name over and over. Fuji continued to ram back against the member that was impaling him on its length, flexing his hips to draw the other in deeper, causing more friction to occur between their increasingly sweaty bodies.
Oishi felt the sweat drip from his naked torso to hit Fuji's body, bent in such supplication beneath his. He wanted -- desired more than anything -- for this moment to last a lifetime, for the feeling of union to be with him always, the sense that he'd found himself at last...He drove in harder and harder, feeling his own body start to twitch and tremble from the effort of withholding his orgasm, and stroked Fuji's erection with a pace to match his thrusts. "AAhhhhhh...Fuji..."
The spy shuddered and let out a shrilled cry as the wild thrusting came in contact with a specific location inside his body, sending crackling bliss through his veins. For a moment, this, combined with the sensations of the quickening pumping of his member, made the photographer falter. He would have collapsed onto the bed if weren’t for Oishi holding on to him.
Oishi held on to his control, feeling his own body suffused with a deeply carnal bliss that he'd never had before, never felt with his wife beneath him. He felt like he was finally conquering the right ground, buried deep inside the other man; he was where he should be... His deep, almost anguished moans wracked his whole body...
Fuji’s hips continued to push back against the older man’s surprisingly fierce thrusts. He coordinated his own cries so that it would harmonize with Oishi’s to become an orchestra of primal desire... Neck turning slightly so that his blue eyes could regard the admin on top of him…Fuji wanted to see the other man lose control because of him. It would keep his focus on making the experience as memorable as possible so the spy’s mind could not wander to topics he’d rather not think about...
Oishi shoved himself in hard and deep, leaning down with an almost growl to take the soft skin of Fuji's nape in his teeth. He forgot to be careful, sucked a hard red mark into the flesh, ground his teeth in. Pushed his hips in hard, driving their bodies together -- and running his fingers hungrily all over Fuji's member.
The spy squirmed lightly at the marking; as if the marks already on his body weren’t hard enough to explain… there was no way he’d be able to lie out of this one. Maybe he should just skip town until they went away. To prevent the admin from getting too ‘playful’ again, the spy drilled himself down the other’s shaft with a increase rhythm, giving the other’s mouth plenty to moan about.
Oishi was almost whimpering with the effort to hold on. He gritted his teeth and thought about spreadsheets, thought about lovely dancing numbers and computer equipment and about how thrilled he was to be in this new job. Wondered fleetingly if the other man was chaffed... was going to be okay after they were done...but the thought was too far in the back of his head to stop his body's fierce, conquering motions. He arched his head back and gasped his pleasure...
The room smelled of heat and sex from their activities, which was to be expected. Fuji speculated about how well the other man was holding on, and then he noticed it. With an internal chuckle, the spy prepared his body for the release it was already seeking. Letting his hips crush against the other, impaling himself on the older man’s member even as he thrust against the other’s hold on his own length, he steadily built up that fire in himself from the multiple stimuli.
Oishi was suddenly possessed by the desire to be facing Fuji when he came...pulled himself out and pushed the man over onto his back, hardly waiting before shoving back in, his mouth descending to find Fuji's nipple. "NNNgghhh..." He gripped Fuji's wrists in his hand, pinned them up over Fuji's head and consumed his flesh...
Fuji blinked in surprise as he suddenly found himself on his back, the other man once again deep inside of him. The feeling of the other restraining him and possessing him excited the younger man even farther as he continued to drill himself against Oishi, matching thrust to thrust, building that passion and intensity inside himself until he was close to spilling over.
Oishi cried out at the thrusting, the white heat between them building to an almost unbearable intensity. He wondered whether it was always like this with Fuji, wondered how Fuji stood it. Felt again the deep, deep gratefulness that he'd been allowed to touch this man. Oishi shifted, stroking a hand down Fuji's body...slid his palm all over the wet tip of Fuji's member, and then gripped the shaft. Oishi was aching...
For someone who weren’t that experienced, Oishi was doing a lot of things right. Fuji felt his body cringe, his muscles tensing, clenching down on the member inside of him. He was ready.
No, that was unfair. Oishi slid his hand down to the base of his own erection for a second, clenching it hard to suppress orgasm. After a few panting seconds he was able to move again...but ahhhh, that had been close...He slid his hand up again, brushing up over Fuji's testicles, up his shaft. It occurred to Oishi in a humorous flash that it was a thousand times easier making love to a man -- he understood the body so much better. And what's more...wanted it. "Fuji...Fuji. Come for me." He gave Fuji's shaft swift, relentless strokes, staring into Fuji's eyes with his own green ones, all of the lust he was feeling pouring down like his sweat...
The answer to the request was almost immediate, arms holding tightly on to the other as the slender body convulsed wildly, thrusting itself down on Oishi’s member before finally exploding with a long drawn out moan. Fuji spilled between their sweat-slicked bodies as the overwhelming bliss took control of all of the photographer’s senses, a silent cry on his lips.
OH GOD YES -- "AAAAAAAHHHHH..." With a deep, almost anguished moan, Oishi finally let himself go, pushing in so deep he felt like his body was gone, joined, one with the other man's -- his release almost like surcease from pain than anything else -- and for a long, long moment he felt them there, on that plateau, bodies melded and shaking and boneless...
By the time Oishi recovered, he would have felt the spy’s blue eyes on him, watching him gently, only recovering from his own orgasm moments before. Fuji gave the older man a soft smile as he noticed the other’s gaze turned to him.
Oishi blinked the sweat out of his eyes and took a deep breath. He leaned down and brushed his lips against the soft skin of Fuji's forehead, over each eyelid. Ran his hand down the sweat covering Fuji's torso. His mind was clearing. "Are you okay?" Oishi asked softly. He was still buried deep. "I don't think I was...gentle with you." His brow creased, and his hand kept up the very light massage.
“It’s fine.” The younger man gently shook his head, lying on his back, giving a false sense of vulnerability.
Oishi took another deep breath staring down at Fuji's body, sweat-stained, limp, large eyes staring at him from the mattress. Oishi carefully pushed himself off and sat up, his body trembling again, but this time from an entirely different feeling. What...had...he...just...done? He stared at the way Fuji's body rested against the bed, legs bent, looking almost broken, and rubbed his palms over his eyes. The pit of his stomach clenched.
Flinching slightly from the pain that came from the wild activity from just before, Fuji adjusted himself until he was sitting on the messy bed. “Do you need some water?” The younger man inquired softly.
Oishi couldn't help his small backward motion, the roiling in his stomach shooting a cold frond up to his heart. "You are too kind to worry about me when I've just...I've just..." He faltered, his hands fisting in the sheets. He had to do something. He got up and went to the bathroom, heated a washcloth, found some aloe vera ointment. He came back to the bed and slowly, hesitantly, wiped the other man clean. And then, with careful fingers, applied the lotion. Fuji's body was beautiful. "I'm sorry." He said, seeing the redness, the chafing, the strain on Fuji's skin. He touched a bitemark and winced. "I'm sorry..."
Fuji watched the panicking admin with a sense of amusement. What was the other so worked up about? Although he might as well let the other do the work since he was so willing, letting Oishi cleaned up the various body liquids lingering on his body. “It will heal.” The photographer replied to the other’s apology.
Oishi knew, also, that it was past time for him to go. His mind, cleared from his lust, was telling him a few very pointed things. The first was that Sakurako was waiting for him. The second was that he'd have to leave this young man lying in bed just like this, body wrecked from Oishi’s lust. His heart felt divided, suddenly, and his loyalties too. He put on his clothing again, and picked up Fuji's, folding them neatly and laying them on the bed. And then bowed, as deeply as he could. "Fuji-san. I must return to my wife. I apologize deeply for insulting you by -- by involving you in this infidelity." Oishi choked that out, and his conscience felt a little better. His eyes spoke for him, however, still lingering on Fuji's body. They held relief, and not a little lingering joy.
He was apologizing??? This man seriously had no idea what just happened did he? Oh well, Fuji’s eyes quickly darted to the clock and back discreetly, enough time had passed while they were rolling around in bed that the spy accomplished what he set out to do. For a moment he contemplated telling the other to give his greeting to the wife, but decided that was simply too much. Instead he nodded gently, “Good luck with your new job.”
Oishi stepped forward, picked up Fuji's hand, and kissed it. "Thank you for my first time." And he turned and fled.
Oishi walked out the door feeling better and worse than he had -- perhaps ever in his life. He wondered whether Fuji knew how much his life had altered in a few short hours. He took a deep breath and faced a certain, unalterable reality.
Oishi wasn't straight. His marriage was in name alone. And because he loved Sakurako deeply, he'd better go and set her free. Fuji...Oishi had wronged the man. And didn't much want to think about it. In fact, the thought gave him almost as much pain as the trials to come. Perhaps he'd find Fuji, eventually, and explain...but for now, he had to go and face the task at hand.
He steeled up his nerve and went back home.
Rating: NC17
Summary:
A year ago, Oishi was promoted. Masunori-san, his boss, was kind enough to throw a welcoming dinner for the new hires. Oishi attended and met a certain photographer. ...His life would never be the same.
[ooc: ...Whew. This took three weeks to write. It's an insanely long smut log, and Fuji!mun totally wore me out. Here's hoping Saeki won't hunt Oishi down and remove his manhood... ]
Masunori-san was kind enough to take all of the new hires out to a welcoming dinner.
Oishi’s was no exception. He was joined by another new administrator, a giggly woman named Sugihara Kimi, who kept ignoring the ring on Oishi's finger and sitting much too close. Oishi Sakurako was not invited, and Oishi sighed just a bit. The way it worked was that she was sitting at home with ramen all ready to be cooked, for when he stumbled in late with the inevitable hangover from the party.
He'd not been happy to leave her behind. They were no newlyweds; they'd been together for five years, after all. But they spent every night in their own quiet, comfortable, and happy way, each engaged in their own pursuit but close to each other, and Oishi found himself resenting the party just a little for prying him out of his comfortable shell.
He put a good face on it, however. Masunori-san was doing this for his sake (and Sugihara-san's) after all, and he was hardly going to spit in the face of such kindness.
But the event was not just for him. Masunori had turned it into an excellent opportunity to meet people from abroad, a group of tourists on a diplomatic mission (or so Oishi had been informed), and Oishi was interested in seeing how the foreigners would react to a traditional-style Japanese sake bar.
So, prying Sugihara off his arm (again), his party met the other group in the middle of the traditional room, and everyone intermingled to sit around the table.
*
The plan was simple; each agent knew their roles well and would carry them out as planned. Since Fuji himself wasn’t as foreign looking as his other co-workers, he was introduced as the interpreter for the group, just an amateur photographer who needed some extra income until he turned professional. The spy weaved in and out of the ladies, helping those who needed someone to help gain the attention of their individual targets; that was his role for the night, support and clean up. An alarm was triggered when one of his co-workers, a redheaded woman, gave the signal that she needed assistance. Nodding, Fuji approached the man in the suit sitting at the corner.
“Are you enjoying yourself today?” Fuji asked warmly.
Oishi was besieged by women. His wife told him that he was handsome enough, and he knew he kept himself well. He attracted a certain kind of woman -- the kind who tended to want to dominate, who mistook his politeness for submission. His own wife was none of these things; wasn't pushy at all, and above all things allowed him the time and space for his own pursuits. She was really his best friend, and with two women on either side of him that night, he found himself wishing more and more for her calm, collected presence at his side, if for no other reason than to get the other women to leave him alone.
Oishi couldn't have been happier when he heard an undeniably male voice cutting in to the conversation. Ah, it was the interpreter. He turned and blinked yet again; he'd felt himself staring at their introduction, and was once again compelled to stare. Oishi wasn't quite sure why. Perhaps it was the strangely feminine tambour of the voice, coupled with the undeniably male figure. It compelled him to look, and look again.
Sakurako was going to hear all about this when he got home. Oishi was staring to save up details; yes, that was it.
“Join in on the fun.” The photographer smiled again. “Everyone else is.” Fuji looked over his shoulder at the increasingly loud crowd. The alcohol was beginning to have effect on those that were gathered there. “May I sit?”
Oishi smiled gratefully at the man and moved to the side. "Please, please sit. So you're a photographer AND an interpreter?" Sugihara tugged at Oishi's arm, and he turned. "Yes, Sugihara-san? Oh -- this is..." He'd recall the name in a moment. "Ah. Fuji-san. Fuji-san, this is Sugihara Kimi. She's the other new hire tonight." Oishi couldn't keep the slight look of distaste out of his eye as she leaned forward over his body to bow. She already reeked of alcohol. Oishi shot Fuji a slightly desperate glance.
“Nice to meet you.” Fuji returned the greeting. Noticing the man’s look out of the corner of his eyes, the spy smiled to himself. With careful words, the slim man half suggested and half pushed her towards one of his ‘free’ co-workers. “Better?” He turned back to Oishi as Sugihara and her designated companion for the night moved to another corner.
Oishi had never felt more grateful. "Fuji-san, you're a lifesaver." He gave Fuji a small, shy smile. And then, with a start, realized that his wedding ring... Earlier, Sugihara-san had taken it playfully, saying that she'd wanted to see what it felt like to be married. He'd let her slip it off his hand...she'd cause a ruckus otherwise. He made a mental note to get it back before he left for the night...oh dear, how annoying. And how lovely that Fuji-san was rescuing him. Oishi made an effort to think of something entertaining to say to keep the kindly man close. "So how are the Americans? I haven't met many foreigners before. Are they as loud as the rumors claim?"
“Only when you combine beer and sports.” Fuji chuckled softly. “Although if you want to meet some, here would be the place.”
Oishi felt a bit mesmerized. Did he want to meet other people? He felt his eyes drawn back to Fuji, still puzzling something out in his mind. There was a distinctly feminine vibe from such a clearly masculine fellow. "If you don't mind sitting with me for a moment, Fuji-san, I'd prefer to quietly celebrate my new position." His smile was a little less shy. "I only have tea, though. I thought perhaps it wouldn't be advisable for me to drink alcohol." He shot Fuji a glance, letting the faint hint of mischief emerge.
The spy only smiled politely as his first attempt to hook Oishi up failed. “Tea is fine.” Fuji reached for the teakettle. “Here, let me.”
Oishi sighed and sat back on his heels. He let his eyes dwell on Fuji's face again. It was difficult to get a good look at Fuji's eyes -- he wasn't quite sure why, but it caused him to want to make the man open his eyes up wide for him. He touched Fuji's wrist lightly and turned his hand over. "Mind if I look at your palm?" He grinned reassuringly. "Don't worry, I don’t have much skill at palm reading. But there's something I wanted to see..."
The younger man blinked in surprise but made no objection at the touch. “Err… yes, of course.” Discretely looking over Oishi to another operative, giving her an ‘No, I have no idea what he wants’ look along with a ‘check back in five, make that ten’ motion.
Oishi turned Fuji's palm gently to the light, casting him an apologetic glance. His mother had taught him this. It was almost shorthand for judging character, but more than that, he wanted to see something specific. The hand was manly enough, the fingers lithe and capable. But the lines... he traced one curiously. "It says you have many lives."
“You are looking at two of them. Smile!” Fuji pressed the shutter of small palm-sized camera that he had previously hidden in his pockets.
Oishi blinked, dazzled by the sudden light, and then laughed. He peered at the lines he'd meant to see, and then put Fuji's hand back on the teapot. He smiled, keeping secret what he'd discovered. "Thank you for that! I can tell you like your occupation." Oishi's grin grew wider. "...I like mine too, quite a bit. And...for the first time tonight I think it's sunk in that I'm finally at headquarters." His grin grew even more, and he leaned close. "Being here next to you is definitely helping me feel celebratory," he said, and...then it hit him. Fuji's scent.
“I enjoy it, even if the money could be a bit more.” The feeling that had begun to spring up in the pit of Fuji’s stomach was best described as déjà vu, was this man coming on to him? “I’m glad. You are supposed to be here to enjoy yourself.” The spy smiled warmly as he gently filled the other man’s cup with tea.
Oishi's eyes clouded just a little. So the man was of ambiguous sexuality, or so his palm had said. He forced himself to sit back on his heels and move away from the other man. He cupped the tea in his hands and raised it. "To the kindness of a stranger," he said, his expression grateful again. He briefly thought about adding that his wife would thank Fuji too, for rescuing Oishi from predatory women, but decided against it. And then wondered to himself why...
It was probably not surprising considering how ambiguous Fuji himself was. Despite having every trait of a male, so many parts of the man were as feminine as the women in the room. Still, the strange mix did not seem awkward when presented in the package that was Fuji Syusuke, in fact, it only seemed right that the man was presented in this way and no other. The photographer filled his own cup and raised it in answer to Oishi’s action. “To the lives that we should live.” The blue eyes opened and turned to the administrator as he spoke the words.
Oishi's breath ceased. Heart almost stopped. He was falling, and he wasn't sure where he was going anymore. His hand moved almost without his knowledge, and he stared down to find it gripped hard around Fuji's wrist. "I," he started, staring at his body's betrayal. Once, in fifth grade, he'd caught himself staring at the other boys in class. He went home and asked his mother what it might mean... Her lecture lingered in his ears for days, weeks, months after. After that, he'd conditioned himself to NOT look, never look. Never let his eyes stray. ...And thought that the urge was long gone. "I..." He tried to release his hand. It was locked around Fuji's wrist, and instead of releasing, his thumb touched the entirely masculine skin, feeling it curiously.
The clear blue eyes widened in surprise as he felt the other took possession of his wrist. “Yes? Oishi-san?” The voice was gentle and slightly confused. “Are you feeling unwell?”
Oishi nodded. And then shook his head. Actually, he was feeling...strangely free, and it was heady. The feeling coursed through his blood -- his celebration, the culmination of many years of dedicated work. He grinned, not knowing that his expression was turning the slightest bit predatory. "Fuji-san..." He half-breathed, half-groaned.
Fuji knew that voice, knew that expression well. “Yes?” He said again, not daring to look away to catch the eyes of his fellow operatives when the other was looking at him with such an intense gaze. “If you are unwell, maybe some fresh air would help?” The photographer suggested, touching Oishi’s forehead gently with his free hand as if taking his temperature.
Oishi's eyes got hotter. He raised his hand to Fuji's on his head, and touched the skin of his wrist again, but this time let himself explore the feeling. It was good...and Fuji's scent was still in his nose from the little movement. "Outside?" He agreed, hardly knowing to what, and stood. For a moment, there was no restaurant, and no party. Nothing but the man before him, promising him...fresh air. "Fresh air would be lovely." Oishi's voice sounded strange to him, because it was the same as ever.
“Let me grab my jacket.” Fuji answered, seeking an excuse to retreat temporarily. It would give him a chance to talk to his co-workers about the sudden change in plans.
Oishi moved in a strange daze to wait for Fuji outside. He felt as though that glimpse of blue had pushed him somewhere beyond his ordinary ken... Alice down the rabbit hole. His world was suddenly very, very different. He leaned back against the wall of the restaurant not heeding the people within, not even Sugihara-san's parting glance, nor his boss's questioning gaze. It was his night...he felt that his dreams were coming true.
Ducking into a deserted corner to speak with a few of his fellow operatives on the recent development, they all agreed that the task of diverting Oishi should fall onto Fuji instead: they had seen the look. It wasn’t too big of a deal anyway, their main goal was to isolate Masunori -- who would lead who away wasn’t important. After setting up a time for reconnoitering, the photographer quickly made his way out of the establishment. “Ah, Oishi-san…” Fuji smiled as he spotted the man outside, partially in shadows.
Oishi advanced toward Fuji, and hardly heeding the fact that the shadowy alleyway was no real cover at all, gripped him by the wrist again. He took a deep breath and let it out in a slight garbled laugh, a breathless one, with a growl at the bottom. "Fuji-san." Another step, and the wall was in back of Fuji. "Fuji-san..." Another low and breathless growl. He had Fuji up against the wall, trapped by his hand, still on Fuji's wrist, now pinned above his head; trapped by his fiercely, singingly awake body. He stared down, his eyes burning.
Fuji looked up at his ‘assailant,’ confusion in his deceptively innocent eyes. “Oishi-san.” The interpreter murmured, fear and vulnerability seeping into his expression. Yet the younger man put up no resistance, yet.
Oishi froze a moment, noting the fear, noting the softness of those blue eyes. But those eyes did more than give him pause -- they burnt into his skin again, and Oishi pushed his body hard and close, burying his nose down into the source of that scent, the soft skin of Fuji's neck. For the first time in his life, Oishi let go -- with a moan, he opened his mouth and tasted another man. It was intoxicating.
The surprised gasp went down the administrator’s throat, same with the moan that followed. The younger man’s eyes were on Oishi, frozen there by surprise by the other’s action. Although inwardly he complained that the other could pick a better location than where they were. Anyone who walked by could see them. The other man’s body was warm against his own, pressing Fuji almost painfully into the cold brick wall behind the spy.
That little noise in that strangely feminine -- but so masculine -- voice went straight to Oishi's gut. His fingertips dug into Fuji's wrist, gripping, trapping, digging almost painful wedges into the skin. Oishi needed more, wanted -- needed -- to feel what it would be like to have muscle under his palm. He gripped Fuji's shirt and yanked it from his pants, slipped his hands up to slide over the hard abdomen. Oishi would have cursed if he could, his pants tight around him. This -- this is what his body had been crying out for -- for years. "Uhhhh..." His mouth, his teeth, sank into Fuji's skin, his deepest urges were to devour.
“Oishi-san!” Fuji cried out from the pain exploding from the bite. “This… Please…” This was not good; they were not even a block away from the bar, certainly not distant enough. The establishment’s bathroom would be farther away than where they were. The younger man’s body writhed against the other, the friction between them only increased by the layers of fabric. In the continuing struggle, the hand that had been weakly pushing the other man away planted its elbow in Oishi’s chest in an attempt to get away, or at least to slow things down. “Please…” He breathed. “Stop… not here…”
Oishi felt the elbow jab his chest and sucked in his breath, his mind clearing a little from the lustful haze. He couldn't trust himself to say much; the words were too many or too few. He stepped back and nodded, softening his grip on Fuji's wrist, but hanging on to it with a determined hold. "Is your hotel room nearby?" Oishi heard the words leave his lips and felt an instant blush heat his cheeks. But. He wanted more. More...
“Err… yes, it is three blocks from here…” The younger man pointed in a direction, seeming to respond before he thought the question through.
Oishi turned in the direction of Fuji's hand and laced their fingers together, tugging, walking swiftly to the hotel. The three blocks passed in no time at all with hardly a word spoken, and Oishi was out of breath by the time they got to the elevator. He noted the surveillance camera in the elevator and had the presence of mind to do nothing more than stare at Fuji during the ride. Stare, and let his eyes linger everywhere, eating Fuji's body, letting himself finally, after so many years take pleasure in the male form.
Fuji’s eyes were downcast and the photographer tried to make himself as small as possible according to the persona he was enacting. Even still, in his years of being a spy, he had never had anyone stare at him so openly before. In a way, Fuji found it quite flattering. He did not struggle as he led the administrator to his single room on the seventh floor. And then turned around as he opened the door as if to bid goodnight.
Oishi simply pushed Fuji in, his hands already working on Fuji's coat -- thrown over a chair -- and Fuji's shirt. He was quiet and intent, and didn't even notice that the lights were dark in the hotel room, that in his haste they were stumbling over furniture. There was a wall again, and Oishi found them there, both hands finally resting on the smooth, hard wonder that was another man's chest. He was almost sobbing with desire.
In the darkness of his room, Fuji ceased struggling and gave into the older man’s almost primal need. Hands softly caressing Oishi’s face and side, he began to guide them gently towards the bed. The closet door that he had been pushed up against couldn’t have been that sturdy, not to mention not as comfortable.
Bed; right. Fuji brought them there, but Oishi pushed Fuji onto it with an insistent pressure, clambering over him. He sank his nose down to the joint of Fuji's neck and shoulder and inhaled again, bracing himself on one hand, the other one continuing to revel in the feeling of male musculature. He couldn't get over the fit of it in his palm. Like it was always meant to be; the feeling he'd never had during sex. Heat.
The younger man let out a soft sigh under the admin’s contact, his own fingers entangling themselves in the sheets and caressing the back of the man on top of him. For a moment the spy’s mind flashed something at him, but he pushed it forcibly aside, this was work. That was something else, if there were anything at all.
Oishi felt Fuji's fingers on his skin but almost ignored them. His voice was a moan, a sigh, as he sank his mouth down Fuji's neck. Oh...god...this was heaven. Was this what it was supposed to be like? Was this what it should have been like all along? He ate the flesh of Fuji's neck and gripped the other man hard at the hips, fingers almost bruising. Fuji's smell wrapped around him -- a delicate odor, but with an underlying punch of musk. Male musk. Intoxicating...
It was painful how hard the other was holding him, but the spy only groaned at the burning sensation. For a few moments Fuji contemplated the safety of letting the admin continue at the same rate the man was going. The admin was biting him, tasting him with considerable force and an almost animalistic look in his eyes. The spy was willing to go through with this for the sake of work, but not willing enough to end up on a small corner of the front page of tomorrow morning’s paper, headline reading ‘Photographer, raped and murdered in his hotel room, Page 3.’ He moaned the other’s name softly, deciding that the other man deserved further observation.
Oishi heard his name... took a deep breath and rose up a little, looking down at the man beneath him. "You are beautiful, Fuji-san. The most beautiful…man…I've ever touched." Okay, the only man. But still. The last word turned into a very small groan as his eyes lingered on the torso. He brushed his palm over flat muscles again, his member aching within his pants. Nipples. His wife liked this...He leaned down and teased. Brushed just the barest hint of his lips over the tip, touching oh-so-softy with his tongue, giving everything but the satisfaction of a hard touch.
The spy’s body arched slightly at the contact, and his arms automatically clutched at the older man. The groan was slightly louder this time, and the blue eyes fluttered close at the sensations. Fuji continued to murmur the other man’s name, calling softly to Oishi’s desire and need to come forth.
Oishi heard the little sounds get louder, and his fingers slid with not a little haste to Fuji's belt. His breath increased from the thought of it...fruit so long forbidden. What would it be like, under his hand, under his mouth, under his body? He stroked a slow finger down the fabric that clung to Fuji's length and felt an unexpected growl rise in the back of his throat.
The touch brought an excited gasp from the spy and his body cringed under Oishi’s weight. Lithe fingers clung to the administrator’s arms. Fuji wondered how long did his co-workers needed to have... Sexual intercourse couldn’t take that long, and with Oishi’s… normal personality; the man probably wouldn’t stay that long afterwards. The only way that they could get away with their plan was if Oishi went home immediately, and Fuji was pretty sure he could make that happen.
Oishi undid Fuji's pants, his breath catching in the back of his throat. He'd never even let himself look at another man's body. Never even looked at pornography -- because what would be the point of torturing himself? But...this would be his first -- forbidden fruit, the spoil of victory, his by right on this night...He pushed Fuji's pants apart, down, pushed down the underwear too, and slid lower. For a moment, eyes wide and unblinking, he let himself stare.
The spy laid flat on his back, looking extra vulnerable now that he was stripped down to his bare skin, revealing a lithe and well-defined body. In the moonlight seeping in from the window, Fuji studied the man on top of him with soft eyes. Documenting the man’s body language, breathing rate, skin temperature… everything in his mind.
"I...I want you...all of you. Want to taste and feel you. Can I?" Oishi's eyes ran back up Fuji's body with a heated gaze. He moved his mouth closer to Fuji's length and inhaled, shutting his eyes. Male. ...Incredibly good, like a punch of wasabi to his palate, the tingle from the scent jolting through him. The thought occurred to him that he had no idea what to do, but he pushed it away, vaguely amused. His body knew exactly what to do. He applied his mouth to the softly descending balls, noting with his tongue that the two of them were so different, for being so similar.
Long fingers intertwined themselves among the short black hair, massaging the other’s man’s head gently. Fuji didn’t have time to reply to the question before the other man found him there, invoking an even more excited gasp from the photographer. “Oishi-san!” The younger cried as he felt heat on where he was most vulnerable, his body reacting eagerly under the other’s ministration.
Oishi wondered, after all, if men and women were so different. His wife had liked this too...He pushed back Fuji's legs, knees bend close to his torso, and moved his tongue lower, shutting his eyes. His tongue found the texture strange. It was different, after all. But so much better...under his tongue, he could feel Fuji's body pulse, felt the twitch of muscles as he explored and pushed around the cleft. "Mmmmmmhhh..." His voice was foreign-sounding...aroused, as he'd never been for...for her.
There it was again, Fuji looked at the ceiling with his half-lidded eyes as his breathing started to quicken. Why must his mind insist on torturing him? This was work, another moan as he felt the other there, he wasn’t doing this for personal reasons. Besides, why would the other man care if he slept with other people, they were simply friends that occasionally… often did it because neither had girlfriends to alleviate the natural desires of a healthy male. The next thought that crossed the younger man mind was how he would hide the marks that were beginning to blossom on his skin from his silver haired ‘friend’.
Oishi tasted that place and felt an unfamiliar sound rise from his throat, a low growl that ripped through him, a mirror of the shock of lust that shot through his body. Had he ever felt this way? ...Never. Only in his most secret dreams as an adolescent, the ones he awoke from trembling... He let his tongue linger and felt it deeply. He wanted to memorize the texture, memorize the musky scent, keep it inside of him ...to remember forever. The lust in him demanded that he take Fuji, but...He paused, a bit of his natural tendency to worry appearing. "Condom. And..." How did men do this? "Lotion?" He didn't know.
Don’t laugh, don’t laugh, don’t laugh. “The nightstand.” The younger man breathed. “Second drawer.” Here’s a thought, Tezuka, educate your subordinates a bit next time you get a surplus in budgets. “I don’t have…” Fuji’s cheek blushed on command, although the excited state of the rest of his body most likely helped.
Oishi rummaged in the nightstand and saw the supply. Was far too innocent to wonder why the other man was so well stocked, and simply ascribed it to a careful attention to protection. He spotted hand lotion as well, and picked it up, weighing it in his palm. Strange...the strangest of things. He shut out the voice that added "unnatural" on top of that, and squirted some of the cool lotion out on his palm. He stared down at Fuji's member, lower at his opening, leaned down and kissed the tip with reverence. How lucky he was, for this first time, to be able to touch someone so beautiful.
For the mandatory twice a day since the day he used up his last bottle, Fuji cursed Victoria’s Secret for no longer carrying the apple-scented lotions. Granted it wasn’t the most masculine brand, but no one dared to tease the spy on his taste. All except one anyway and… the spy’s eyes squeezed shut at the sensation of Oishi’s lips on his member and shivered, slender legs rubbed themselves against the other’s body, seeking warmth and encouraging the older man to be braver.
Oishi was intelligent, and studied hard. When he got married, he studied the female physique. He was a conscientious man, and even though he found no pleasure in it, took care that his wife was always satisfied. His wife had been a virgin when they'd met. Oishi warmed the lotion in his hand; he could only imagine that this hurt. Once the lotion was warm, he stared down again with hunger and ran his finger along the other man's length. With the other, he took a deep breath, pressed in two fingers, sliding them in with a slow stroke. "Fuji-san..." he whispered this. "...Gomen."
Fuji only answered with a gasp that spoke of the pain of being penetrated; the younger man shifted his body to try to find some way to somehow relieve himself of the pain. Yet all he managed to do was move himself on top of the older man’s fingers, helping the other stretch and prepare him. He wondered if he should tell Tezuka about this mission, granted he didn’t know most of the details, maybe he should just inform the director that it happened, or maybe wait a few days and see if he could dig up anything.
Oishi ran his hand up Fuji's length, breath increasing from the heft of another man's erection in his palm. He tried to distract Fuji from the feeling...and noted with not a little amusement that it was easier dealing with a body so like his own. He gripped and massaged, imagined he was holding his own member, did what he liked best...stroked his hand over the top of Fuji's cock and down the other side, feeling the lotion slip and slide and heat under his hand. He worked his fingers into Fuji's body as gently as he could, and realized after a moment of feeling his fingers inside of Fuji that he was trembling...
“Oishi-san…” The photographer moaned, his body arching into the other man’s caress and probing. Opening his eyes again, Fuji peered down at the admin, his normally pale cheeks flushed with color. Five days perhaps? He would tell Tezuka in five days - that should give his co-workers ample time to clean up after tonight. The spy moaned again, and noticed that the other was almost worshipping his body with the tender and soft touches; he smiled at Oishi in an effort to calm the man down.
Oishi barely noticed the smile, trembling again in the effort to hold back his lust, keep his fingers gentle instead of rough, stroking instead of plundering. He narrowed his eyes, his focus going down to just...one body, the room, the feelings shooting between their skin. He leaned down again and kissed the tip of Fuji's erection, sliding it into his mouth with a hungry little sound. It felt inside of his mouth like nothing else he'd ever experienced, hot and hard and male... With his free hand he undid his pants, pushing them off. And he stroked the tight tissue until it felt like it was opening to him.
Fuji’s moaning increased in volume as the admin continued to work on the younger man, shutting down most of his conscious thinking. Fuji kept calling out the other’s name, although his voice broke when Oishi took him in, slender hips unconsciously thrusting into the warmth. Forcing himself to sit up, Fuji caressed the other’s face and neck and shoulder and anywhere he could reach, mouth letting out tiny needy gasps. Rubbing his thigh softly against the other man’s cheek, the spy encouraged the man to take him in deeper, faster.
Oishi felt Fuji's body suddenly respond and wondered what he'd done...perhaps it was this? He felt the hard lump of the prostate gland under his fingertips, rubbed it curiously. He...he wanted to see what that felt like too. His mouth kept up a soft nibbling, exploring, stroking. There was almost too much to taste and feel...
The stimulation caused the spy to exhale loudly and moan the other’s name, “Oishi-san…” Fuji gasped, hands moving to the admin’s face, cupping and trying to bring himself upward so that Fuji might kiss the other’s lips and maybe… reward the other a little.
Oishi gripped Fuji's wrist with a hand and stroked his lips over the palm, whispering Fuji's name. He kissed the spot on the palm that he'd found earlier and let his lips curve into the tiniest of smiles. But now was not the time...He removed his fingers from Fuji, sat back on his heels and stared down again, squirting more of the lotion onto his palms. He ran his palm over his own member, coating it with as much slippery lotion as he could put onto it. He turned Fuji onto his stomach with an urgent push. Rose up over him, gripped Fuji's hips and with a cry thrust himself into the other man.
Obviously Oishi had his own agenda and Fuji was willing to entertain that plan, even as the sudden intrusion caused his body to shudder. The spy let out a cry of pain. No amount of preparation was enough to amply open his body to accept the other man’s member. The photographer’s hands fisted on the sheets that covered the bed. Back arching at the explosion of sensations rippling through his veins, Oishi’s name still on his lips…
...And with that motion, Oishi felt his mind open wide, his body shiver, and his heart cry out. It felt like his first time ever. Not simply his first time with a man. His body felt complete, no matter that it was far too tight in Fuji, no matter that he had to push with hard tilts of his hips to gain ground inside of the other man. He braced himself on the bed and ran a hand beneath Fuji, finding again the other man's erection. This was too much...he groaned against Fuji's shoulder and held on to his self-control.
The photographer gasped once more as he felt a touch on his own member. “Oishi-san…” The younger man’s body was tense from the initial penetration, but as the feeling of pain began to subside, his muscles began to relax.
Oishi gritted his teeth, his mind dazed. So this was sex. He'd wondered. Once a week, for five years, he'd had something resembling sex with his wife. He'd had to save himself up for several days beforehand, until the physical need from his body was so much that any release would do. And she seemed to welcome it, enjoy it with great pleasure, his hands and mouth on her body, and then being taken by him. But Oishi had never been fully present for it, had never felt her touch jolt through his body the way Fuji's did...Fuji's skin an electric presence against his own, the smell just...right. Oishi moved his hand in a curious exploration, feeling every inch of the ridged member so like -- and unlike -- his own. And his own urgent need -- buried deep in Fuji's body, the tightness another indication that he was finally doing the right thing..."UUhhhh...Fuji-s-san..."
The spy was moaning, his fingers fisting on the bed sheets. The pale cheeks were beginning to take on a slight color as his body reacted to the pleasure that was beginning to generate from the contact.
Now what should Oishi do? There seemed to be so many things...he slowed his pace to a crawl, braced and moving in and out of Fuji at a snail's pace. What to taste, feel, see next? He felt downright greedy. He rolled them to their sides and ran a hand up Fuji's stomach to rub the strong muscles of his pecs, feeling the tiny nub so unlike a woman's nipple. And his fingertips explored the ridge of Fuji's tip. He let his mouth run wild again, licking the bumps of Fuji's spine, up into his hairline. Nuzzling the soft locks...
“Hmm…” Fuji closed his eyes as the other’s mouth and hands explored him. He sighed at the sensation of the hands on him, they were quite warm against his cool skin. Although it might be his imagination but he thought they shook a little, from inexperience maybe?
Oishi tried to still the slight shaking in his hands. He felt like a glutton, trying to slake his hunger all at one sitting. Later...his mind pushed that thought away. No, don't think about later. He pressed himself all the way in again, one hand descending to cup the other man's balls while the other kept exploring Fuji's member. And the smell...Oishi could shut his eyes, but couldn't block out the incredibly seductive scent.
The lithe body cringed lightly at the continuing touches; gentle moans falling from his lips. Hips grinded back gently, meeting the other half way and shivered as the feeling of Oishi intensified. Looking over his shoulder at the man on him, in him, Fuji again moaned the other’s name.
Oishi felt himself melt at that voice, and his own voice gave a low and almost helpless moan. He felt carried away by the other man, overjoyed that he was giving at least a little pleasure in return for ... all of this. He buried his mouth against Fuji's neck again, beneath his ear, and murmured something incoherent, almost like "Thank you..."
It was unclear if the spy heard the words, Fuji’s blue eyes half lidded and slightly glazed over with the pleasure that was starting to assault his senses. His arms reached back to tug the other’s head slightly forward so that Fuji could continue to let the moans and gasps drop freely from his mouth … right into Oishi’s ear.
Oishi hissed his breath in, his pace increasing. He hadn't wanted to speed this up, but he felt the blinding need drive him. His free hand slid everywhere, touched everything, while his other was engaged in the very strange feeling of stroking another man's member. It was almost like...almost like masturbation, to feel an erection in his hand like that, in front of him. Only -- SO very much not masturbation... The similarity in their bodies only served to make him more aware of the fission between them. "Fuji..." He moaned, feeling the other man's breath against his ear, and sank his lips to kiss his way down Fuji's neck.
The photographer’s usually cool body was starting to become heated, his breathing starting to come in gasps. Fuji writhed at the admin’s warm hands on his length, arms continued to hold the other in a backward embrace, the younger man softly whispered reassuring words to Oishi, urging the other to take the pace to the next level, each requests emphasized by the increasingly needy moans.
Oishi heard Fuji's words and nodded, letting the need drive him too. He rolled Fuji to his stomach, changing their position. He lifted Fuji's hips with his hands so that the other man was kneeling with Oishi behind him, curved his back over Fuji’s and drove in hard, fast..."AAHHhhh..." Wasn't sure any more what sounds he was making...
“Oishi-san…!” Fuji gasped as the other thrusted forcefully into him, opening his legs wider so that the older man could have an easier time. Slender hips rolled against each movement of the older man’s thrusts, welcoming the intrusion and even encouraging the rough usage of his body. Fuji’s back cringing as the quickened pace drove his shoulders into the bed, the spy’s cries became increasingly louder and louder.
Oishi had to shut his eyes again, the sight of Fuji's body beneath him making his control weaken. He felt...so...complete, inside of this nigh-stranger. Like the question that his body had asked him for years and years was finally answered. He drove in again and again, feeling the lust wash through him in an animal surge.
The spy’s body writhed and squirmed from the sensations that were starting to take over him. With his head and shoulder pressed into the mattress by the impact of the forces, his hips continued to drill back against the other’s, crying as every thrust into him brought a new wave of pleasure. The other man’s eagerness and intensity more than enough made up for the lack of experience.
Oishi ran his hand beneath Fuji's body again and gripped his member. He had no idea whether Fuji could come from this alone, but wasn't going to chance it...Stroked again, as best he could, moaning as his own erection was swallowed again and again. He leaned over to Fuji's ear and whispered the words, between moans..."Thank you...thank you..."
Between the powerful thrusts and the renewed warmth on his member, the cries quickly became screams, almost drowning out the other’s words as the spy called the admin’s name over and over. Fuji continued to ram back against the member that was impaling him on its length, flexing his hips to draw the other in deeper, causing more friction to occur between their increasingly sweaty bodies.
Oishi felt the sweat drip from his naked torso to hit Fuji's body, bent in such supplication beneath his. He wanted -- desired more than anything -- for this moment to last a lifetime, for the feeling of union to be with him always, the sense that he'd found himself at last...He drove in harder and harder, feeling his own body start to twitch and tremble from the effort of withholding his orgasm, and stroked Fuji's erection with a pace to match his thrusts. "AAhhhhhh...Fuji..."
The spy shuddered and let out a shrilled cry as the wild thrusting came in contact with a specific location inside his body, sending crackling bliss through his veins. For a moment, this, combined with the sensations of the quickening pumping of his member, made the photographer falter. He would have collapsed onto the bed if weren’t for Oishi holding on to him.
Oishi held on to his control, feeling his own body suffused with a deeply carnal bliss that he'd never had before, never felt with his wife beneath him. He felt like he was finally conquering the right ground, buried deep inside the other man; he was where he should be... His deep, almost anguished moans wracked his whole body...
Fuji’s hips continued to push back against the older man’s surprisingly fierce thrusts. He coordinated his own cries so that it would harmonize with Oishi’s to become an orchestra of primal desire... Neck turning slightly so that his blue eyes could regard the admin on top of him…Fuji wanted to see the other man lose control because of him. It would keep his focus on making the experience as memorable as possible so the spy’s mind could not wander to topics he’d rather not think about...
Oishi shoved himself in hard and deep, leaning down with an almost growl to take the soft skin of Fuji's nape in his teeth. He forgot to be careful, sucked a hard red mark into the flesh, ground his teeth in. Pushed his hips in hard, driving their bodies together -- and running his fingers hungrily all over Fuji's member.
The spy squirmed lightly at the marking; as if the marks already on his body weren’t hard enough to explain… there was no way he’d be able to lie out of this one. Maybe he should just skip town until they went away. To prevent the admin from getting too ‘playful’ again, the spy drilled himself down the other’s shaft with a increase rhythm, giving the other’s mouth plenty to moan about.
Oishi was almost whimpering with the effort to hold on. He gritted his teeth and thought about spreadsheets, thought about lovely dancing numbers and computer equipment and about how thrilled he was to be in this new job. Wondered fleetingly if the other man was chaffed... was going to be okay after they were done...but the thought was too far in the back of his head to stop his body's fierce, conquering motions. He arched his head back and gasped his pleasure...
The room smelled of heat and sex from their activities, which was to be expected. Fuji speculated about how well the other man was holding on, and then he noticed it. With an internal chuckle, the spy prepared his body for the release it was already seeking. Letting his hips crush against the other, impaling himself on the older man’s member even as he thrust against the other’s hold on his own length, he steadily built up that fire in himself from the multiple stimuli.
Oishi was suddenly possessed by the desire to be facing Fuji when he came...pulled himself out and pushed the man over onto his back, hardly waiting before shoving back in, his mouth descending to find Fuji's nipple. "NNNgghhh..." He gripped Fuji's wrists in his hand, pinned them up over Fuji's head and consumed his flesh...
Fuji blinked in surprise as he suddenly found himself on his back, the other man once again deep inside of him. The feeling of the other restraining him and possessing him excited the younger man even farther as he continued to drill himself against Oishi, matching thrust to thrust, building that passion and intensity inside himself until he was close to spilling over.
Oishi cried out at the thrusting, the white heat between them building to an almost unbearable intensity. He wondered whether it was always like this with Fuji, wondered how Fuji stood it. Felt again the deep, deep gratefulness that he'd been allowed to touch this man. Oishi shifted, stroking a hand down Fuji's body...slid his palm all over the wet tip of Fuji's member, and then gripped the shaft. Oishi was aching...
For someone who weren’t that experienced, Oishi was doing a lot of things right. Fuji felt his body cringe, his muscles tensing, clenching down on the member inside of him. He was ready.
No, that was unfair. Oishi slid his hand down to the base of his own erection for a second, clenching it hard to suppress orgasm. After a few panting seconds he was able to move again...but ahhhh, that had been close...He slid his hand up again, brushing up over Fuji's testicles, up his shaft. It occurred to Oishi in a humorous flash that it was a thousand times easier making love to a man -- he understood the body so much better. And what's more...wanted it. "Fuji...Fuji. Come for me." He gave Fuji's shaft swift, relentless strokes, staring into Fuji's eyes with his own green ones, all of the lust he was feeling pouring down like his sweat...
The answer to the request was almost immediate, arms holding tightly on to the other as the slender body convulsed wildly, thrusting itself down on Oishi’s member before finally exploding with a long drawn out moan. Fuji spilled between their sweat-slicked bodies as the overwhelming bliss took control of all of the photographer’s senses, a silent cry on his lips.
OH GOD YES -- "AAAAAAAHHHHH..." With a deep, almost anguished moan, Oishi finally let himself go, pushing in so deep he felt like his body was gone, joined, one with the other man's -- his release almost like surcease from pain than anything else -- and for a long, long moment he felt them there, on that plateau, bodies melded and shaking and boneless...
By the time Oishi recovered, he would have felt the spy’s blue eyes on him, watching him gently, only recovering from his own orgasm moments before. Fuji gave the older man a soft smile as he noticed the other’s gaze turned to him.
Oishi blinked the sweat out of his eyes and took a deep breath. He leaned down and brushed his lips against the soft skin of Fuji's forehead, over each eyelid. Ran his hand down the sweat covering Fuji's torso. His mind was clearing. "Are you okay?" Oishi asked softly. He was still buried deep. "I don't think I was...gentle with you." His brow creased, and his hand kept up the very light massage.
“It’s fine.” The younger man gently shook his head, lying on his back, giving a false sense of vulnerability.
Oishi took another deep breath staring down at Fuji's body, sweat-stained, limp, large eyes staring at him from the mattress. Oishi carefully pushed himself off and sat up, his body trembling again, but this time from an entirely different feeling. What...had...he...just...done? He stared at the way Fuji's body rested against the bed, legs bent, looking almost broken, and rubbed his palms over his eyes. The pit of his stomach clenched.
Flinching slightly from the pain that came from the wild activity from just before, Fuji adjusted himself until he was sitting on the messy bed. “Do you need some water?” The younger man inquired softly.
Oishi couldn't help his small backward motion, the roiling in his stomach shooting a cold frond up to his heart. "You are too kind to worry about me when I've just...I've just..." He faltered, his hands fisting in the sheets. He had to do something. He got up and went to the bathroom, heated a washcloth, found some aloe vera ointment. He came back to the bed and slowly, hesitantly, wiped the other man clean. And then, with careful fingers, applied the lotion. Fuji's body was beautiful. "I'm sorry." He said, seeing the redness, the chafing, the strain on Fuji's skin. He touched a bitemark and winced. "I'm sorry..."
Fuji watched the panicking admin with a sense of amusement. What was the other so worked up about? Although he might as well let the other do the work since he was so willing, letting Oishi cleaned up the various body liquids lingering on his body. “It will heal.” The photographer replied to the other’s apology.
Oishi knew, also, that it was past time for him to go. His mind, cleared from his lust, was telling him a few very pointed things. The first was that Sakurako was waiting for him. The second was that he'd have to leave this young man lying in bed just like this, body wrecked from Oishi’s lust. His heart felt divided, suddenly, and his loyalties too. He put on his clothing again, and picked up Fuji's, folding them neatly and laying them on the bed. And then bowed, as deeply as he could. "Fuji-san. I must return to my wife. I apologize deeply for insulting you by -- by involving you in this infidelity." Oishi choked that out, and his conscience felt a little better. His eyes spoke for him, however, still lingering on Fuji's body. They held relief, and not a little lingering joy.
He was apologizing??? This man seriously had no idea what just happened did he? Oh well, Fuji’s eyes quickly darted to the clock and back discreetly, enough time had passed while they were rolling around in bed that the spy accomplished what he set out to do. For a moment he contemplated telling the other to give his greeting to the wife, but decided that was simply too much. Instead he nodded gently, “Good luck with your new job.”
Oishi stepped forward, picked up Fuji's hand, and kissed it. "Thank you for my first time." And he turned and fled.
Oishi walked out the door feeling better and worse than he had -- perhaps ever in his life. He wondered whether Fuji knew how much his life had altered in a few short hours. He took a deep breath and faced a certain, unalterable reality.
Oishi wasn't straight. His marriage was in name alone. And because he loved Sakurako deeply, he'd better go and set her free. Fuji...Oishi had wronged the man. And didn't much want to think about it. In fact, the thought gave him almost as much pain as the trials to come. Perhaps he'd find Fuji, eventually, and explain...but for now, he had to go and face the task at hand.
He steeled up his nerve and went back home.