[Log] Byakuya, Shirosaki
Title: There is No "Get Out of Jail Free"
Characters: Byakuya [
gogochan], Shirosaki [
gogodgene]
Timeline: May 5, 2007
Rating: NC-17
Summary: Shiro and Byakuya's hateful relationship comes to a head.
Byakuya was in his meticulously organized walk-in closet, buttoning up a starched work shirt. He hadn’t wasted any time getting ready.
He’d go. He had to go.
Byakuya hadn’t been lying when he said he wasn’t having an affair with the "pretty" rock star-or anyone, for that matter. Things with Ulquiorra were still developing…slowly. Too slowly, really, but…that was an issue for another lonely evening.
Right now, the calculating lawyer was steeling himself for the trip to the Ninth Precinct. It was nearly 1:00 am on a Friday night. Traffic was going to be a nightmare, and he had to go both across and down town to reach the East Village.
His jaw was already sore from the way he was clenching and grinding his teeth.
That goddamn mutant hell weasel whore…
Regardless of his personal involvement with Ulquiorra, Byakuya would not allow that…repulsive creature…to tarnish the young vocalist’s reputation. It was his professional responsibility to look out for Ulquiorra’s-and Hougyoku Record’s-best interests. Of course, personal scandal was pretty low on his to-do list as well…
He started to storm out of the closet, but then-on impulse-stepped back in to retrieve an item-just a little something that might come in handy a bit later…
He dropped the item into his sleek black Prada briefcase and grabbed his phone. A quick call confirmed that Douglas, his driver, had the limo waiting by the curb. Byakuya refused to feel a shred of remorse for waking the gray-haired man and putting him to work. The driver was compensated most generously for being at the heir’s beck and call.
His attempts to appear calm and collected were utterly foiled when he barked the address of the Ninth Precinct at Douglas and scowled when the older man innocently inquired if everything was alright. He then closed his eyes and took several long, deep breaths. He needed to shake this poisonous fury before it seeped into his bones. It was a challenge, even for someone who was usually so poised and unflappable.
Then again, he was rarely as angry as he was at that moment. He was furious. No, he was vehement. He was vehemently furious. That...that…rabid… dirty…diseased…vermin had threatened him. Even tried to blackmail him. Him. Byakuya Kuchiki. A man with more money, status, and resources than 95% of the world. He was a billionaire. A Kuchiki. And, somehow, he had let this…pale piece of maggot shit…squirm into his life and fester under his skin.
When the albino had offered to leave him alone in exchange for his precious lighter, the little "don’t trust anybody-ever" voice in Byakuya’s head started whispering warnings… The whispers turned into startled shrieks when the lawyer discovered that Shirosaki, possibly NYC’s most irritating drug dealer, had left him a little "care package" of powder as a thank you (or fuck you) for the lighter. The small bag of uncut comfort was certainly a surprise, but what amazed Byakuya the most was how the ignorant, in-your-face delinquent had actually wrapped it…discreetly…like a normal, non-illicit "delivery."
At first, Byakuya assumed the gift was a gesture of goodwill. After a several days' deliberation, he re-interpreted it as a condescendingly clever way for that genetic mishap to mock him. Obviously, Shirosaki did know the proper protocol for "deliveries."
That prick.
That sneaky…smarmy…downright evil little bastard. He was nothing but…trash. He was… A genetic abomination. A mockery of the human form. He was like…a parasite…a rash… a disease… Like something private, embarrassing, and uncomfortable that Byakuya almost desperately needed to…purge… To destroy.
Every now and again, between the nagging, haunting words of warning, that little voice would coyly mention how easy it would be to have Shirosaki…removed. Permanently. With his money and connections, arranging a hit would be...almost too simple.
The thought was…beguiling. The idea of ending that ill-begotten creature’s life with a phone call, a word, or a civilized handshake was…undeniably enticing.
But something that…criminal…wasn’t the Kuchiki heir’s style. Plus, if anyone was to wipe off that lopsided sneer, silence that cackle, and break that white bitch’s spirit…
It was going to be Byakuya Kuchiki.
Before he had called that no-good bastard, he had felt tired. Exhausted. Wasted, even. The chase that had happened only hours before had taken quite a toll on him. It had been a long time since he had played that game of cat and mouse, particularly with himself as the mouse.
Sure, Shiro had the ability to possibly murder them and dump the bodies somewhere safe (he had done it before, after all), but the fucking fight had been so utterly unexpected, he didn't start thinking straight until he was jump-starting that car...
But now, after surviving that phone call from hell (had the asshole really expected him to bend over backwards? Complete dumbass) with that pompous prick, Shirosaki felt oddly invigorated.
Actually, he just felt pissed off to a new extreme.
It was all the same goddamn thing to him. Point being, he felt like busting someone's face in, and the mother fuckers back in his cell seemed like they wanted to help. As soon as he sat back down on that rock-hard bench, the one he was sure would cause him back problems later on, the idiotic shit-heads had decided to heckle him.
They annoyed, they agitated, they badgered, and they acted like jackasses in general.
Shirosaki's patience snapped like a rubber band at its elastic limit, sudden and forceful. He waited the whole two seconds for the guard to leave his post before wailing into the fucking shit-heads.
Oooh, it had felt so good.
The guard had come back to see his three cellmates sitting on the floor while they nursed their wounds, although one was knocked the hell out. Luckily, said guard did nothing to help any of them. The albino didn't care either way. He highly doubted he was getting out of here anyway.
Shit was likely to go down if that guard even put one finger on him.
By the time they reached the East Village, Byakuya had managed to reign in his fury and regain his almost regal composure. He had Douglas turn onto 5th Street and drop him off near the precinct and auxiliary courthouse. With a police station and the New York City Hell’s Angels outpost nearly next door to each other on that one slender block, there was no point in bothering to look for a parking spot.
Byakuya stepped nimbly from the limo and surreptitiously eyed the row of gleaming motorcycles-all bright custom paints and polished chrome. He could feel some of the bikers eyeing him in return. And for good reason… It wasn’t every day that someone arrived at the East Village precinct in a Bentley.
"Nice ride!" hollered one of the bikers.
"Likewise…" Byakuya returned smoothly, lifting his hand in a casual greeting, but not bothering to turn around.
It was Friday night in downtown Manhattan, which meant the Ninth Precinct was hopping. After a quick glance around, Byakuya realized he was, by far, the sharpest dressed (and probably the cleanest) person in building. It took him several excruciating minutes to figure out where to go. He waited in two different lines (nightmares in and of themselves) just to be re-directed to the holding facility, where he was forced to wait in yet another "slow as the 1 and 9 at rush hour" line.
The lines, the waiting, the noise, the filth… It was more than enough to quickly bring his simmering anger back to full boil. He tried to take his mind off the two drooling, snotting, screaming children standing right front of him by imaging the various offenses Shirosaki might have committed.
It couldn’t be assault or anything that violent, or the fiend wouldn’t be allowed to post bail. Drug charges, perhaps? Yes…most likely… Byakuya’s lips folded into a tight, thin line as he recalled that first, fateful meeting and how Shirosaki’s cavalier attitude and utter disregard for propriety had finally driven him to lose his temper. For one hideous, primal moment, Byakuya had wanted nothing more than to claw those ghastly red eyes out of their sockets with his bare hands. It was the closest the reserved, well-bred heir had come to actually losing control since his days as a bitter, angsty college freshman.
Of course Byakuya had complained to his drug connection about the freakshow reject’s unacceptable behavior. And of course he’d been promised the moon and stars as well as the complete absence of "Shiro." Ha. It was almost as if the incubus had already chosen Byakuya to haunt and hate.
The cool, calculating lawyer had been genuinely surprised to receive a small bag of powder in exchange for the old Zippo lighter and yet…he wasn’t surprised at all when, about a week later, his doorman announced the presence of "a…um…pale fellow, with a delivery for the penthouse." Somewhere, in the back of his mind, he’d known that leering, waxy- white jack would be popping out of his box again soon.
As sick as it was, Shiro's one joy in life was to annoy the hell out of everyone around him. He liked getting into people's heads, seeing what made them tick. He liked to break down the people around him, see what they would when they were cornered. He liked fights, and he liked arguments. He loved those guarded (or unguarded) looks of fear that came into a person's eyes the minute he stepped into a room.
Maybe that was why he started to shadow the rich bastard. The albino poked and prodded. Sure, it wasn't hard to push Rich Bitch's buttons, but it was fun at least. A lot more fun than most people. He always had the most interesting reactions to everything.
Yes, the bastard would pretend that it didn't affect him. Hell, he did a pretty good job of it, too. His features were completely neutral 95% of the time. But that other 5% percent, he actually showed he had emotions; that he wasn't a robot.
He especially liked the following visits he had done right after the lighter incident. After he had left the "party favor" for good ol' Rich Bitch. The bodyguard hoped the asshole had enjoyed that slice of irony. Shirosaki had pushed continuously after that, going to drastic new heights and measures. The albino absolutely delighted in the rich prick looking at him in disgust. Bastard probably thought the bodyguard was looking for a fight.
He wasn't. Not really.
It was very intriguing.
Shiro was sure if he actually had a proper education, he would've went on to college to become a psychiatrist.
Byakuya’s drug source had promised to keep the maladroit far, far away. Hearing that he was, once again, waiting downstairs with a "delivery" had accelerated Byakuya’s usual pre-drug deal state of anxiety to full-on fuming. Thankfully, common sense had taken over before the elevator reached the top floor. He realized it was incredibly foolish to feel betrayed by his…drug connection. If the twitchy little vermin wanted to deliver the billionaire’s fix, obviously he got to scurry along and do as he pleased. Byakuya just had to make sure that, this time, instead of a thin-skinned billionaire, the beady-eyed lab rat met a quietly ferocious wildcat.
Truth be told, the little mutant hadn’t been quite as annoying on his second or third visit. Sure, he poked and prodded at Byakuya’s buttons with the enthusiasm of a child who believes an elevator will only come if the up or down buttons are pressed-pressed-pressed-pressed-pressed-pressed-pressed… And he continued to infuriate the uptight lawyer to no end by winding his way through the penthouse, touching this and that; even peering into some of his kitchen cabinets. Of course, what really provoked the billionaire’s ire were the sexual taunts and innuendos…
To Shirosaki, it must have seemed like a game. Arrive with the drugs, leer at the lawyer, run amuck in the penthouse, taunt said lawyer with unwanted sexual services, stall some more, and continue to push, push, push until the stoic brunette offered him more money just to…Get. The. Hell. Out.
It was a game. A game of dominance, and willpower, and pushing the envelope… And as much as Byakuya didn’t want to play, he knew very well that Shirosaki would eventually cease and desist for a certain price…. Whenever the aloof lawyer refused to react, Shirosaki would up the ante, even going so far as to open his trousers and begin stroking himself when Byakuya ignored an especially saucy innuendo.
Of course, such lewd, in-your-face impropriety was guaranteed to get the prissy billionaire’s attention.
The line at the holding facility finally moved forward, bringing Byakuya out of his reverie.
He cleared his throat delicately. "Hello…" he said somewhat uncertainly to the crusty behemoth of a woman behind the beat-up old desk, "I am here to pay the bail for…Mr….hmm…Shirosaki…" Byakuya realized that he had no idea whether Shirosaki was the cur’s first or last name. Perhaps that wasn’t his real name at all.
The fat woman shuffled the papers around on her desk for a moment and withdrew a rather sizeable file.
"Felony Battery: $5,000, with priors. Grand Theft Auto: $150,000. Assault, $1,400, with priors. Vandalism, $700. Various expenses: $6,000. Bail is set at $163,100 with 11 years probation," the bus of a woman rattled all this off as if she was ordering a Big Mac and super-sized fries at the drive-thru.
$163,100? 11 years probation?
"What?" Byakuya was stunned. That imbecile! These weren’t any piddlely little drug charges. These were major offenses! Grand Theft Auto? Assault? Byakuya ground his teeth in anger as the she-beast began reading off the charges as if Byakuya’s rhetorical "what" had been in earnest.
The billionaire pulled out his leather bound checkbook and Lacrosse pen.
Shirosaki, you...fool. You sorry son of a crack whore bitch…
The stupid freakshow ingrate would be paying Byakuya back…with interest…
With the holding cell being as quiet as it was, Shiro had decided that it was naptime. He didn't really believe he'd be getting out anytime soon and a nap was looking awfully comforting. He was irritable, cranky, and just overall pissed off. If he were any less of a man, he'd probably whine about it.
But whining wasn't him. He had never done any sort of whining, even when he was a kid. He knew it was just a waste of energy and time.
So, he lay there, with his eyes closed, and arms behind his head. Time trickled on slowly; he knew because he had a very good internal clock.
"Shirosaki, you made bail."
And suddenly he wasn't so tired. Surprised, shocked... yeah. Tired, not so much. He scrambled to sit up, looking at the officer who was currently making his way over with a pair of handcuffs. Shiro rolled his eyes, standing and putting his arms behind his back to make this easier. The albino had neither the energy nor the need to resist the guy.
"Who's the schmuck who was stupid enough ta release me?" Shiro asked as he heard the click of the final cuff.
"You'd think you'd be a little more grateful," the policeman sighed.
"Not my style." The bodyguard let the man lead him out of that suffocatingly small cell, and down the hallway of other cells. Most of them had perpetrators in them, seeing as it was the weekend.
Police officers filled their quotas on the weekends.
Shirosaki was just happy to be getting the hell out of there. He probably would've smiled wide if the situation had been different, seeing as he had just cleared the archway that led to the holding cells. Of course, he was about to face his fucking owner for God only knows how long. He knew it was that bastard lawyer who had paid for his bail (Shiro knew no one else had the money, and no one else knew he was in jail). He also knew the bail total had to be murder; he remembered the judge rambling off the charges. It took a couple minutes for him to finish, too.
Shiro knew that he now owed the rich asshole his life, and knowing that prick, he'd be paying in full.
"Koochie," he began, smirking at Rich Bitch as the officer behind him unlocked the handcuffs. "So glad ya came ta get me."
Byakuya looked him up and down, not even bothering to hide his disgust. The foul creature wasn’t even wearing shoes. He’d probably end up with ringworm or some nastiness from the utterly unhygienic holding cell. Lovely.
Byakuya closed his cell phone and tucked it back into his pocket, confident that Douglas would have the car at the curb by the time they left the building.
Part of him couldn’t believe that the miserable little wretch had the audacity to smirk at him-especially after Byakuya had just doled out more in bail money than the cheeky bastard probably saw in three years of whoring and dealing. And part of him wasn’t surprised in the least. It was "normal" for the whelp to be inappropriate.
"Come with me," he said crisply, his tone of voice leaving nothing open for negotiation. If Shirosaki knew what was good for him (which was doubtful…) he’d follow Byakuya with a minimum of fuss.
Once outside, Byakuya paused to grab the ingrate’s pale elbow, cringing internally at the thought of touching the sickly white flesh.
He leaned towards the felon ever so slightly, aware that their presence, plus the arrival of the limo, was garnering more than enough attention.
"Get in the car," he hissed. "Say nothing. Speak to no one-even if one of the bikers tries to taunt you. Understood?"
Byakuya hoped that, for once, Shirosaki would be a good little bitch and simply do as he was told. If not, things were going to get rocky for the young criminal and his reluctant lawyer very quickly.
Shiro scoffed at the fucker, knowing he was staring at his attire. He'd like to see the puss lawyer get suddenly tackled by a group of burly guys and see if he had time to lace up his shoes and put on nice clothes.
Mother fucker.
He didn't say a word as Koochie told him in few words to follow him and shut the fuck up. It felt nice to be outside again, even if his feet had been mistreated horribly for one night. The breeze did a lot for his hot-headedness, easing away some of the anger and annoyance the lawyer bestowed upon him just by standing next to him.
The bodyguard was slightly surprised when the bastard actually touched him. It wouldn't be shocking if he had a long-sleeve shirt on, but Shiro was sure the other really didn't like touching the albino's skin. It was almost as if Rich Bitch believed he was going to get some kind of disease from touching him.
What an idiot.
If albinism was viral, he would've spread it to all the people that pissed him off a long time ago.
He stared at the limo as it pulled up, not even bothering to listen to the man next to him. It wasn't likely that he had anything important to say, anyway.
Shut the hell up, maybe?
Don't look at me?
Don't touch or speak with me?
They were all good possibilities.
"Yeah, yeah. Whatever Koochie."
With a sigh, he climbed into the black, sleek vehicle, and made sure not to slam the door.
No matter how much he wanted to.
Byakuya stepped up to the driver’s side window and whispered something to Douglas before opening the back door and sliding onto the plush leather seat next to Shirosaki. He took precautions not to touch the filthy creature, of course.
Byakuya kept his briefcase on his lap and regarded the pale menace with cold eyes for a moment before turning away.
"I had assumed that your arrest would entail drug charges…" he said, his voice calm and even. And this time, his manner was not forced or feigned. It was the calmest he’d ever felt around his drug dealer-cum-nemesis.
Though Byakuya loathed being this close to the dirty, diabolical wretch, he felt safe within the confines of the Bentley. Byakuya rarely used this limo, finding it to be rather ostentatious-especially when he was trying to keep a low profile. It had been his father’s and had come to Byakuya as part of his inheritance. The old man had it equipped with every possible safety feature, from tinted, shatter-proof glass to a special locking system that worked to keep people out…or in. It had seemed the most...logical...choice for escorting the unpredictable albino away from jail...
"Yes…" he continued, glancing at the younger man out of the corner of his eyes, "drug charges, or…simple assault, perhaps… And, I had…estimated…your bail to be around…$25,000…maximum."
"Grand Theft Auto…" Byakuya shook his head in mock disbelief. He lowered his voice and fixed his passenger with a piercing glare. "You do realize that you are going to need a lawyer...?"
Without waiting for a reply he snapped, "Where do you live?"
Shirosaki rolled his eyes at the "drug charges" bit. There weren't many people who he treated like he treated the oh-so-special Rich Bitch. He usually treated drug deals like he did band-aids; Koochie was the only one (so far) who got special treatment.
He had never been caught with drugs on him in his life, no matter how much the police were all over him about it. They thought they could outwit him.
Ha!
New York's boys in blue were going to have to try a lot harder with their narks.
"Yeah, well, shit happens," he replied in response to the Grand Theft Auto comment. He wasn't really expecting to go around stealing cars tonight, but hell, random stuff happened to him all the time. He never went through a day expecting something specific to happen.
He just went with the flow. This fact had probably kept him from possibly getting killed tonight.
Then he realized that the asshole was asking him where he lived. Odd. He didn't really expect him to be driving him all the way to his apartment. Hell, he had almost expected the bastard to drop him off on a street corner and tell him to hoof it.
Wouldn't have been the first time that had happened to him.
"Chinatown..." he started, still suspicious. "Ya know, 'ur being awfully nice there, Koochie. I know this is comin' wit' a hefty price, so I wanna know right now. What the hell do ya want from me?"
Byakuya raised one dark eyebrow at the flippant, "shit happens" comment.
However, the moment the ungrateful bastard asked what Byakuya wanted from him, the slim eyebrow descended to form something between a look of boredom and a scowl.
The partition between the driver and passengers was closed, so Byakuya leaned forward and pressed a button before saying, "Chinatown, Douglas…"
Then he leaned back against the seat, his elegant hands returning to rest lightly on his black briefcase.
"Hmm," he drawled in mock consideration, "What do I want from you? Well…first, I will tell you what I do not want. It is simple. I do not want you in my life. Beyond that, I want to go back in time and find a way to ensure that you never enter my life… Never follow me, never harass me, never try to…molest…me, never threaten me, or attempt to…blackmail…me…"
"But, alas…" he continued, his deep-seated anger well managed, his voice thoroughly under control. "All the money in the world cannot buy me the ability to travel through time… Therefore, what I really want, right here and right now, is for you to fully understand the cost of your bail…compounded with the cost of your intrusion into my life..."
His icy eyes were gleaming with a muted excitement that was just shy of malice.
He reached into his briefcase and pulled out a pair of professional-grade handcuffs. He took advantage of his proximity to the albino and quickly snapped one cuff around a pale wrist.
"A ‘hefty price’?" he repeated, his mouth twisting into the shadow of a cruel smirk. "Shirosaki…you have no idea…"
Shiro immediately darted back against the door when he heard the cuff click into place. He mentally scolded himself for jumping so much. The lawyer was already winning this battle, and Shirosaki hadn't said much of anything yet. He hadn't fought back because he was just being nice for once!
What the fuck?
No, no, seriously. WHAT THE FUCK?
What the hell could this fucking bastard want from him that would involve him going back into handcuffs? No. This wasn't fair. Dammit, he had just gotten out of jail!
"Koochie, what the fuck are ya thinkin'?" The albino saw that malicious gleam in his eyes, which he did not like at all. "What the fuck is with the cuffs, man?"
It would suffice to say that Shirosaki did not do well around enclosed spaces, or any kind of trapped feeling.
So the sickly little lab rat was suddenly feeling trapped, hmmm? Good. The repulsive, twitchy freak-fest was suddenly starting to squirm, hmmm? \Perfect.
It was about fucking time.
"Relax…" Byakuya cooed, his voice coated with syrupy faux-sincerity, "handcuffs should feel quite familiar-comfortable, even-to you by now…"
"And I must say," he said, leaning back to admire his handiwork, "the accessory does suit you…"
He put his briefcase on the floor and simply looked Shirosaki up and down for a long moment, letting him feel the weight of the "Kuchiki glare."
"Eleven years…" he said slowly, his voice now quiet and thoughtful, "You are now under probation for eleven…long…years…" He whistled and shook his head. "Can you stay out of trouble for eleven years, Shirosaki? Probably not…"
The lawyer was enjoying this immensely, even as his passenger began to seethe with anger.
"Now I could…" he continued, "possibly…maybe…perhaps…represent you in court, which would certainly reduce the length of your probation." This time, his lips went so far as to contort into an obvious sneer. "Likewise...it should go without saying that it would be a…delicious and gratifying…piece of cake for an influential lawyer, such as myself, to secure you a permanent place behind bars…without hope of bail or parole…"
He let the implications of his words sink in for a moment before continuing.
"It would be in your best interests to behave, if only to keep your slutty, sociopathic self out of prison, hmmm?"
"Of course…there is still the subject of your…rather pricey bail…" the cold, imperious lawyer gifted his passenger with a thin, chilling smile. "As far as I’m concerned…Monopoly is just a stupid game… And there is no ‘get out of jail free.’"
There was once a time when Shirosaki found himself to be just as angry as he was now. It had been years ago, when he was still running the streets with his band of misfits. Back then, before the police knew who he was, he wore a mask around town whenever he was on a job. All of his comrades did; it was standard procedure. Of course, his had been handmade long ago by the only person in his life to ever care about him as a human being.
The old lady at the home.
She had made it for him; on request of course. It was intended to be a halloween mask, but with the intricate red designs, and the detail that had gone into the porcelain mask, he couldn't throw it away. He had kept it clean and spotless for years, until that one fateful night.
They were out, his gang, robbing some major stuff from a pawn shop in the dead of night. Someone had tripped an alarm, which surprised the albino. Seeing as this job was easy and planned right down to the most minute aspect. Shiro later found out that the one who had tripped the alarm was a traitor, who was trying to sell him out. The two of them had duked it out. The albino was quite used to street fights, so he hadn’t worried about it.
What happened, though, made him snarl and growl like a wild animal. The bastard, the motherfucker, that traitorous son of a bitch had broken his mask. The only thing left behind from the old lady who was like a grandmother to him.
Needless to say, he beat the guy within an inch of his life before the cops came.
And now, here he was, sitting next to this asshole. This fucking bitch. This prissy bastard. This prim and proper shithead. This goddamn fag who had serious issues (Shiro would know, he was almost the same kind of fucked-up this asshat was), and a drug habit. He could actually feel his lips pulling back into a animalistic snarl, smirking at the thought of punching this bastard until he would have to spend his precious money on facial surgery so people could recognize him.
All he wanted to do right now was stab the fucking bitch in the neck with a steak knife.
Unfortunately, this guy was also his key to keep from going back into jail. If he didn't want to be holed up for the rest of his life in some God-forsaken building, he would have to abide by this bastard's rules.
Just for now.
And while he did it, he could think of the all the possible places to dump this motherfucker's body so he wouldn't go totally insane.
"Fuck. You."
Byakuya’s gray eyes opened wide at the epithet; though certainly not in anger. Oh, no, not this time. Shirosaki’s obvious discomfort was proving to be most…amusing…
"So this is how it feels…" he thought, noting that his calmness was inversely connected to the freakshow’s state of agitation. In fact, it the was exact inverse of their "normal" interactions. If such interactions could actually be construed as…normal…
"Indeed…" he responded, widening his fake smile and chuckling to himself as the angry animal beside him began to snarl.
"Which brings us back to the subject of your bail…" he said smoothly, without missing a beat.
He looked straight into the half-crazed albino’s furious red eyes.
"One hundred…sixty-three thousand…and one hundred dollars…" he drawled, "Quite a… ‘hefty’ sum, as you might say… Not exactly…pocket change…even for someone like me…"
"And don’t think for one minute that I paid that outrageous sum out of any desire to help you…" Byakuya’s own anger began to rise as he challenged the bane of his existence. "You…insinuated yourself into my life…stalked me…repeatedly harassed me…and then, when you got your fool self arrested, and suddenly needed my help...you threatened and attempted to coerce me with…blackmail."
Byakuya narrowed his eyes.
Repulsive. Disgusting. The translucent, veiny skin… The diabolical red eyes… The shock of messy white hair… The twisted, psychotic features… Every last bit of him, from demented head to dirty, bare toe, was…repulsive.
And yet… There was…something…about the way the normally in-your-face albino had pushed himself as far away from Byakuya as possible that was almost...enticing… If not enticing, then…intriguing… Usually, it was Shirosaki who taunted the aloof lawyer with unwanted advances and invasions to his personal space. Now, the tables had decidedly turned.
Seeing the hostile hell weasel with his back against the door, eyes wild, lip curling in near-primal rage…and wrists thoroughly bound…instinctually appealed to the darker side of Byakuya’s competitive nature.
He let his eyes trail over the albino once more, as if seeing him for the first time.
"You fool…" he said, his low voice colored with haughty amusement. "All you had to do…was say…‘please.’ Just...one…little…word…"
"But no…you opted to threaten and…insult…me… Tsk, tsk, tsk…" Byakuya cocked his head and clicked his tongue against the roof of his mouth in mock warning.
"$163,100…" he said again, letting the cold venom and toxic hatred he felt towards Shirosaki seep into his deep voice. "You are now indebted to me... And I fully intend for you to pay back every…last…filthy…penny."
He reached forward and grabbed the chain that connected Shirosaki’s handcuffs. "There is one thing that you need to understand…that you will understand…whether you like it or not…"
He tugged on the chain to emphasize his point.
"I paid your bail, but I did not pay for your freedom. I bought you, for $163,100… I own you. Until you work off that "hefty" sum to my satisfaction…you belong to me. And you will do as you’re told… Or…you will be returned promptly to jail or…perhaps declared unstable and committed to a mental hospital…"
His voice dropped to an icy whisper. Do I make myself clear?"
Shirosaki jerked his the cuffs away abruptly, suddenly not wanting the fucker touching him. The bodyguard had been in a lot of fishy situations before, but none as suspicious as this. If he had known his night was going to end up as fucked up as this, he would've been happy to take his chances with some jail time.
Weren't there more people he could threaten to pay his bail, anyway?
Shit, man, this guy was totally serious. Shiro knew he would be, but damn, this was like the bastard was taking his complete revenge against the albino right here and now. He had thought that maybe the guy would savor it bit by bit. Apparently, he was wrong.
Maybe he should've just said please, like the lawyer said he should have. He would've hated himself for all eternity, but at least the predicament he was in right now probably wouldn't be as dodgy.
And then, there was all this ownership shit. What was he, a fucking dog? He didn't know that the asshole had walked into a dog kennel tonight, instead of a jailhouse. The albino felt worthless, with the way the bastard kept repeating the bail total he had just paid.
That's all he was worth? That's all it came down to?
Fine. Fuck it. If the bastard felt comfortable in his own sick world calling Shiro his "property", then let him. As long as he didn't start asking the bodyguard to get on all fours and bark.
"Very clear, ya fuckin' bastard."
Years of relentless Kuchiki "nurturing" prevented his lips from instinctively curling into a feral snarl. Byakuya was obviously enjoying this… Forget enjoying. He was savoring this moment of dominance, reveling in the torrent of raw emotions…
And why not?
Shirosaki was the agent provocateur of this whole mess… The instigator of this…twisted little game… The well-bred billionaire was even gentlemanly enough to concede that the hell-spawn had easily won the first few rounds. Of course, Byakuya had been a highly reluctant player until a moment ago when he snapped the handcuffs around those corpse-colored wrists… Now, the game was on, and the odds were definitely in the elder man’s favor.
"As it is…your aquiesceance only cheapens the moment. Your word means nothing to me and cannot be trusted…" Byakuya said in response to the albino’s foul language.
"Therefore…rather than take your word for it… I think it best if you…show me…just how well you understand our new…arrangement…" Little sparks made his gray eyes smolder. "Actions do speak louder than words…"
"Hmm…" he stroked his chin for a moment in mock consideration. "I seem to recall how all of your…‘delightful’…visits have been highlighted by a…‘charming’…array of unwanted sexual solicitations… Indeed…you have pestered me ad nauseam with offers for…oral gratification…at the rather exorbitant price of $1,000 a…session…"
He arched an eyebrow out of habit, though it was anyone’s guess whether Shirosaki could see it in the dark limousine. "If I find your…services…to be…satisfactory-and worth the price-you could, potentially, clear your debt by providing fellatio 163 times…"
He let his voice trail off as his lips arranged themselves into a satisfied little smirk.
"So… Shirosaki…" A thread of dark, devious humor was woven into his rich, velvety voice. "Are you ready to…put my money where your mouth is?"
Oh. This was rich.
The fucker wanted him to suck his cock? Wow, and to think, all this time, Shiro thought the man only looked at him with absolute disgust. Apparently, Rich Bitch was harder to figure out than he originally thought.
First, he had hated Shirosaki (although, Shiro was sure the bastard still hated him), and refused to even touch him. Now the rich asshole wanted his mouth all over his dick?
Shiro found himself laughing at the situation.
The irony.
The bodyguard had expected his punishment to be far worse than a blowjob (or 163, for that matter), but hell, he wasn't complaining. After his giggling died down, he smiled straight back at the malicious lawyer.
"Sure, Koochie, I'd love ta suck 'ur cock, but ain't ya forgettin' somethin'?" The albino held out his wrists for emphasis. Sure, he would technically only need his mouth for something like this, but couldn't the guy at least take off the cuffs first?
Perhaps the pale derelict didn’t understand Byakuya’s motivation. This wasn’t about attraction. It was about power. It was primal…predatory…and was proving to be a heady aphrodisiac to the calculating billionaire.
To say that Byakuya got off on power was an understatement.
He cocked his head inquisitively when the misguided whelp saw fit to laugh. The fool…
"We both find this situation somewhat…amusing…" he drawled, "What an interesting coincidence. You realize, of course, that your debt cannot be repaid by simply whoring your mouth to me on a daily basis… I am charging you interest-compound interest-and, try as you might, you will not be able to work it all off on your knees…"
He paused, and took a deep breath. "Now then…" he said, regarding Shirosaki’s bound wrists, "the cuffs stay on…"
He leaned back a bit and looked at the scowling albino appraisingly. "If your…talents…are indeed what you say they are…the handcuffs should not be a burden whatsoever…"
From all his people watching after all these years, Shirosaki knew what type of man Koochie was. It didn't take a rocket scientist to figure out that the guy loved power above all else; that he was probably the top in all his sexual encounters. Shiro knew how to play those kinds of people like a well-tuned violin. All he had to do was crawl around on his hands and knees, proverbial tail between his legs. Maybe throw in a breathy "sir" or "master" here and there. Beg for any and all pleasure that the bastard felt like bestowing upon him.
It was easy, although a little degrading.
If it was going to get him in the lawyer's good graces, he was willing to travel the extra mile. He would find himself able to submit to this son of a bitch.
Shiro knew that in any other situation, he would always have the upper hand on the prick.
The albino sucked up his own pride, slinking onto the floor in front of the haughty lawyer, smirking widely, and licking his lips.
If the goddamn bitch was going to put him in handcuffs, then he wasn't going to use his hands. Sure, it was possible to use his hands to do just about anything right now, but he was going to prove just how good he was without them. Fortunately, in the past, Shiro had a power-hungry bastard like this guy as his fuck-buddy, so he was used to not having the use of his hands. He had gotten very talented with what he could do with just his mouth and tongue. He leaned forward, tonguing the clothed crotch of the prim and proper bitch, teasing him.
The albino latched onto the other's belt, sliding the leather from underneath the buckle with his teeth. When he had finished unlatching the piece of leather from all its metal imprisonments, Shiro was almost able to pull the whole belt out of the loops around the other's pants.
He made quick work of the zipper as well, sliding it down slowly while glaring at the heated eyes of the man above him. The albino looked to the only thing left keeping his pants closed; the button. He could've torn it off with his teeth, but he doubted Rich Bitch would've appreciated that
"Little help, Richy?"
Byakuya’s cock had begun to twitch well before his twitchy nemesis had slunk to the floor. By the time the miscreant had unbuckled the designer belt with his mouth, the exacting lawyer was already half hard.
He rolled his eyes when the pale fiend asked for assistance. Oh, bloody hell… The ingrate was undoubtably annoyed at Byakuya’s refusal to remove the cuffs. Too bad. And it wasn’t as though the whelp couldn’t use his paws. There was a good four inches of chain connecting the metal cuffs. He was obviously just being stubborn… And, in the process, making the task at hand that much more difficult.
Byakuya never figured the leering joker to be such a drama queen…
"Don’t get lazy…" Byakuya warned. He flicked open the button and tugged his pants over his ass and down to his thighs. "And don’t try to act…coy… It’s highly unbecoming…"
"Oh please," Shiro replied. If the bastard didn't like it, why the hell would he keep coming back for more? The man was just as much of a sadomasochist as the albino was, apparently. They both seemed to love this sick torture they had going on between the two of them.
Well, at least the bodyguard did. Otherwise, he would've fought whole-heartedly when the asshole told him to shut up and suck his dick. Not word for word, of course, but it had been implied.
Shirosaki nipped at the hardening mass through the underwear, doing all he could to be in control of his situation. He had no idea if teasing would work on the bitch, but it didn't hurt to try.
"Don't know why 'ur complainin', Koochie, 'cause ya seem ta like it. Can't get enough 'a me, huh?" Shiro laughed, breaking his "no hands" rule for a moment to tug the final barrier between his tongue and the other's cock down roughly. His tongue slid along the half-hard cock, his teeth grazing the skin. His mouth clamped around the end of the lawyer's member, sucking slightly, and not daring to go any further until the man above him got fed up with his slow advances.
If the situation gave him the chance, Shirosaki could be just as controlling as this bastard.
Byakuya generally enjoyed slow advances, though the sheer perversity of the situation had fueled his arousal something fierce. It wasn’t going to take much to make him fully engorged.
He narrowed his eyes and grit his teeth at the incredible feeling of those pallid lips around the sensitive tip of his cock. The fact that the hated albino was now…touching him…was still…disgusting… And yet…It felt so damn good.
"Hmm…" he said, voice thick and low, "just shut up and suck…"
He opened his thighs a bit more to give the brat better access.
Something told him this was going to be one hell of a blow job.
The albino smiled; the bastard was enjoying this. And here Shiro thought this was just a cruel scheme to get him to be the submissive for once. Older cultures had done similar things like that, where someone had to suck someone else off if the person they were pleasuring was a higher rank in society than them.
Probably the Romans.
Shiro moved his mouth away from the head, letting his tongue swirl around it instead. The tip of the muscle teased the slit, the albino letting his hot breath flood over the top of the other's dick. Slowly, his tongue made it's way down the shaft, teeth grazing over that pulsing vein ever-so-slightly. Shiro let his pink muscle wrap around the base of the other's cock as much as it could, trailing back upwards over the head again.
He took the upper portion of the shaft between his lips again, sucking lightly, and bobbing his head up and down antagonizingly slow. One of the albino's hands massaged the base of the lawyer's dick, applying slight pressure on the vein that had come to life yet again with his thumb, and rubbing upwards. The other heated hand massaged the balls, the underside of his thumb rubbing circles between them.
The bodyguard could feel his own cock lurch in excitement, slowly rising in his pants. He knew the pampered lawyer would never reciprocate his actions, but hopefully he would be able to take care of the situation sometime soon.
Byakuya sucked his breath in through his teeth, making a hissing sound, and exhaled sharply. His hands clenched and unclenched at his sides as Shirosaki moved torturously slow…which was just the way the exacting lawyer liked it. His balls tightened at the exquisite feel of the fiend’s surprisingly careful ministrations. The occasional scrape of cold, metal handcuffs against his sensitive flesh only added to the already intense pleasure.
Damn. Byakuya rescinded his earlier notion that the albino was assuredly unsuccessful as a whore. The cocky cur was a natural. Or, he’d had a hell of a lot of practice…
Either way… The haughty lawyer was forced to bite his lip in order to stifle a moan. His eyelids descended as his breathing became quicker…heavier…
What was it that always made hate-sex so fucking hot?
Shiro felt himself completely harden at the sight of the normally composed bastard fidgeting. It inflated his ego, among other things. Proving that he could do things right felt nice, seeing as the lawyer thought he was a complete failure in just about everything.
With an audible pop, the albino released the cock from his mouth, flattening his tongue against the head to give a final lick. His hands replaced the wet cavern, one thumb circling the top of the lawyer's dick, and the other stroking that sensitive spot just below the flushed head.
"Goddamn, Koochie... Never knew ya could make me this horny," he uttered, emitting a low chuckle. His fingers slinked away from the bastard's cock, gripping the underwear still bunched around his legs to give a final tug. His mouth returned to the hard member in front of him as he resumed his attack, lips giving a hard suck to the sensitive tip before traveling down. His tongue wiggled underneath the tongue suppressor the lawyer called a cock, swallowing around the mass once he felt it hit the back of his throat. Shiro growled deep in his throat, his own dick quivering in want, needing to be released from its confines. Shiro sucked hard on the cock, his lips slowly sliding back up the shaft. His hands had retreated to his own neglected hard-on, rubbing himself through the sweatpants.
His eyes screwed themselves shut. He wanted the goddamn cuffs off, so he could freely jerk himself to completion.
Fucking Koochie...
Everything about the situation was wrong. So wrong. If the reserved and proper Byakuya Kuchiki could only see himself…naked from the waist down in the back seat of his late-father’s prize Bentley…getting his cock sucked by a deranged, albino drug dealer/stalker…all but gasping and writhing from the ill-gotten pleasure…he’d probably smack himself silly.
Of course, it was the "wrongness"…the subtle rebellion, the hate-fueled lust, the wanton disregard for propriety…that Byakuya found so thrilling. Even with his predilection for kink, the stuffy billionaire hadn’t felt this wild since his days as a haughty, horny teenager at the posh all-boys prep school.
Having Shirosaki here…on his knees…willing and quite able… It was such a fucking rush. And then…to see those pasty wax-work hands…paler even than Byakuya’s ivory skin…bound at the wrists by cold, unforgiving metal… And to feel them gripping and stroking his cock…while the chain that connected them inadvertently teased his fevered skin….
His jaw dropped open and his breathing grew short, hot, and heavy as strong, talented fingers concentrated on the super-sensitive tip.
The domineering lawyer had been expecting nothing more than a reluctant, mediocre stroke and suck. But the fact that his…nemesis…his rival…actually wanted to pleasure him? To please him?
For Byakuya…it honestly didn’t get much better than this…
That is, until the incubus opened his dirty mouth and admitted his mutual attraction… Or mutual lust… Or hate… Or...whatever. In the end…it was all the same fucking thing.
Byakuya could hear the want…the desire…the primal need in the hellion’s voice. It was…sick, twisted…and heavenly…
When the beast devoured his length and growled, Byakuya arched his back and snapped forward. His long, elegant fingers wrapped around the albino’s wiry shoulders and his nails dug in deep.
If only he had a condom… He’d flip Shirosaki over and fuck him all the way from Hell to Kingdom Come.
Eliciting such an action from Mr. Prim and Proper turned the bodyguard on like no other. He half-wondered if anyone else had ever seen the restrained lawyer act so unguarded, so sudden with his movements. Shiro figured Priss Pants always calculated every step he took, which probably meant every little motion he made during sex was deliberately thought out.
Shiro's head popped off of the other's cock as soon as he felt the sharp bite of nails. He didn't want to moan, not for him. The albino instinctively bit his tongue, an agitated, yet lusty sigh escaping instead of a throaty moan. As messed-up as it seemed, the bodyguard loved to dish out pain, but not as much as he liked to receive it. He guessed it came with the sadomasochist territory.
"Fuck. Me..." He ground out. Shirosaki almost asked for him to do it again, but that would've sounded like he was begging, and he wasn't about to start that shit.
After regaining his senses, he returned back to the task in front of him, mouth attacking the shaft faster than before. He made sure the tip of his tongue teased that spot under the head of the other's cock relentlessly, flicking over it and dragging the flat side of the muscle along it. His hands found their way into the front of his pants, disregarding how cold the handcuffs felt against his hot skin. The bodyguard stroked himself in sync with how fast be moved his mouth up and down the lawyer's cock. His thumb teased the slit of his own dick as his tongue did the same for Rich Bitch. Warm hands wrapped tightly around his cock as he took the lawyer's member into his mouth as far he could. Shiro made a noise in his throat that was somewhere between a growl and moan as the tip of the other's dick met the back of his throat.
He couldn't remember the last time he had been this damn turned-on.
"Fuck. Me…"
The sound of that cocky, taunting, hated voice…thickened with raw lust, and eager…almost desperate…for reciprocation…had his cock practically throbbing.
The only downside of hearing the derelict’s lascivious desires was the loss of said derelict’s hot, wet, talented mouth.
Thankfully, Shirosaki quickly resumed his oral ministrations. The Kuchiki heir’s platinum eyes rolled back into his head as the feisty little whore got serious…sucking… licking…teasing…again and again…over his most delicate and sensitive spots…
Byakuya’s breath caught in his throat. He gasped…exhaled…and gasped again. His sharp fingernails dug deeper, breaking the pale skin as he unconsciously pulled Shirosaki forward. At this rate, he wasn’t going to last much longer. It was too incredible…too indulgent… And too bloody perfect to end just yet…
He took a deep breath and held it for fifteen seconds, hoping to ease a bit of the hot, beautiful pressure that was coiling in his gut. It was then that he noticed the subtle rise and fall of the albino’s shoulders and quickly connected it to the loss of those strong, pale fingers around his length.
While it was amusing to discover that the lusty brat was jerking off, the cruel billionaire had no inclination to let him continue.
Byakuya sat up quickly, the sudden movement serving to shove his cock against the back of Shirosaki’s throat. He relinquished his death grip on the younger man’s muscular shoulders in order to reach around him in an effort to grab the chain that connected the handcuffs. Without a second thought, he dipped his hand into Shirosaki’s pants and felt his fingernails scrape against the heated flesh of the other man’s surprisingly thick member.
A moment later, he had a good grip on the chain and was able to pull the bastard’s hands away, effectively ending his happy moment of masturbation.
The cold, controlling lawyer shook his head and made a disapproving sound with his tongue.
"Charging $1,000 for oral gratification means that all of your energy should be devoted to my pleasure and satisfaction. Keep your hands where I can see and feel them."
Those fingernails.
Christ, did Koochie read his mind?
Shiro instinctively shivered at the sharp intrusion, his lips wrapping tighter around the shaft that was hitting the back his throat. If the guarded lawyer kept doing that, he wasn't going to last any longer. The bite of pain that seared in his shoulders was just enough to make him want to moan for the bastard. Hopefully, he would take it as a good thing, and keep doing it.
He knew Rich Bitch was close, too; he could feel the lawyer's cock quivering, needing release. Shiro needed release as well, and stroked harder on his own dick.
Oh, it felt so good.
That is, until Koochie leaned forward. The albino didn't mind that much, even if his cock was jutting hard into the back of his throat. What he did mind, was the fact that lawyer's hands were suddenly in his pants, and he was sure those elegant fingers weren't there to be helpful. Shirosaki's mouth retreated from the shaft as soon as he felt his own hands slide out from his pants, the bastard keeping a nice grip on the chain between the handcuffs.
Mother fucker...
Fine. If the bastard was going to be stubborn, then he'd finish this quick. The guy was driving him back to his place anyway; as soon as he got into the apartment, he was free to jerk himself off as many times as he wanted.
Shiro moved back into the rhythm of things, his mouth going back to work, while his hands teased and massaged the tightening balls just below the shaft. His tongue attacked any and all sweet spots he had discovered, one hand rubbing what his mouth didn't reach.
Maybe if he concentrated hard enough, he could come just by thinking about it.
Now that was more like it…
Byakuya had expected some resistance-a snarky, degrading comment at the very least-when he precluded the whelp’s self-pleasuring.
No matter.
Perhaps the red-eyed cur had finally come to terms with their new arrangement and accepted his place: head bowed…on his knees….
Shirosaki didn’t seem like the obedient type, but given the right motivation…even a rabid, immoral, felonious mutt could be taught some new tricks.
And speaking of tricks…
That…thing…that the roué was doing now with his tongue…
Oh holy bloody hell…yes…
Byakuya shoved his hips forward, screwed his eyes shut, and threw his head back. One hand gripped the plush leather seat, the other darted forward to tangle in the albino’s tousled hair.
His fingers tightened around a handful of thick white hair as something between a gasp and a moan finally escaped from his lips.
"Ahhh…yes…" he murmured, voice low and gravely, "don’t…stop…"
That moan.
Jesus H. Christ.
He had never expected for the nitpicky lawyer to let himself go in such a way. Hell, he hadn't even expected the fucker to become vocal at all. Surprise, surprise.
When fingers clenched onto his hair, Shiro didn't mind that the other man shoved his cock into his throat until his mouth was at the base. His hands immediately gripped whatever they could, pleasure racing up his spine.
Fuck.
With his scalp as sensitive as it was, Shiro did nothing to hold back the wanton moan. It would be an understatement to say that the albino liked it when his...fuck-buddies…pulled on his hair. Every nerve ending stood on end, his body becoming hypersensitive to touches of any kind.
Or maybe it was just any kind of pain that drew that reaction out of him.
Either way, he wished the stuffy bastard would just pull.
The masochist was going to get his wish, thanks in part to that deliciously deep moan.
The vibrations from that moan were just the thing to push Byakuya into the realm of no return.
His fingers twisted in the messy white hair and he yanked hard, pulling Shirosaki forward as his hips moved of their own accord. By this point, he was practically fucking the albino’s incredibly hot, wet, pliant mouth.
Through the haze of lust, he managed to be slightly impressed when the pale bastard never choked. The red-eyed fiend turned out to be a damn good whore after all.
His breath now coming in quick, audible pants, the stoic billionaire didn’t notice his lip curling back into a sneer or the surprisingly feral growl that rumbled deep within his throat. For one blissful moment in time, he gave in to the white-hot rush and lost himself within the delirium of pure pleasure.
He came...hard...unaware of the low, guttural groan that accompanied his orgasm.
Byakuya's long, steely fingers retained their grip in Shirosaki’s hair, even as he rode out the aftershocks of his release.
No matter how many times he had done it throughout his life, he would never get used to swallowing that shit. It tasted God awful, but he didn't exactly condone spitting either. Never mind the fact that he hadn't had anything to eat for a good while now, and that mess would just stew in his stomach.
Gross.
What was worse about the situation, though, was the fact that he was still hard, no matter how fucking good it had felt to have Rich Bitch yanking on his hair. Shiro could literally feel his cock weeping, precum dripping off the head.
Fucking son of a bitch. If the lawyer hadn't stopped his happy-jack, he'd have been free from the perverse mixture of pain and pleasure his nether regions were currently sending to the receptors his brain; express delivery, too.
After the bastard finally settled down from his "ride," Shiro slipped his mouth away to sigh in aggravation.
"I'm gonna bet that I just gave ya the blowjob of a lifetime, so I think I should be rewarded by havin' these damn cuffs removed."
For fuck's sake, didn't he deserve that much?
"Hmm?" Byakuya murmured absently as he moved to tug his pants back up around his hips.
"Well…" he drawled, leaning his shoulders back against the seat in order to tuck his shirt back into his pants. Byakuya had no intention of alighting from the back of the Bentley looking the least bit disheveled.
"While I admit that was…commendable…" He ran his hands through his sleek, ebony hair before continuing. "For now…the handcuffs will stay on…"
He gave the albino’s head a pseudo-affectionate pat. "Soon, though…" he promised, "very soon…"
With that, he leaned forward and pressed the intercom button.
"Are we almost there, Douglas?" he inquired innocently. Byakuya wondered if Shirosaki was paying attention to the passage of time. They had been traveling for at least fifteen minutes already and it should have only taken about five or ten to reach the northern part of Chinatown.
"Yessir," came the muffled reply through the intercom, "We’re just pulling up now."
Byakuya glanced down to where the undeniably-adept cocksucker was still sitting on the floor. His eyes had fully adjusted to the dark, and he could clearly see the reason for the fiend’s unhappy expression and pissy tone of voice. The prominent bulge in between the horny little devil's legs was all the more intriguing given the fact that those dirty sweatpants were rather loose and baggy.
Byakuya chuckled to himself, while making sure his features returned to their normal neutrality.
"Excellent…" he thought, "perfect timing…"
The cruel Kuchiki heir felt the Bentley slow down and come to a gentle stop. He stared into unnerving red eyes of his drug dealer cum nemesis cum favorite new fuck-toy as he rolled down the window.
"Are you about ready to go?" he inquired, voice thick with mock-syrupy sweetness.
If there was a better time to remind himself to practice patience, Shiro hadn't come across it. He grit his teeth at all the fucking mockery. ‘Soon’ wasn't fucking quick enough for him.
Koochie had also pet him on the fucking head like a goddamn dog. If the lawyer wanted the albino to act like some mutt, then he'd be glad to play the part by biting the bastard's dick the next time he got a little horny.
Goddamn him and his fucking wiles. Shiro could admit that this man was perhaps just as sadistic as himself. Which he loved.
To a point.
The bodyguard felt the car come to a stop and sighed a breath of relief. He could finally get out of this stuffy car and go inside-
Wait a minute.
Shiro looked out the window of the car, staring straight at a very familiar building. But no. It couldn't be...
Yes, it could.
The albino turned to the lawyer, who had the audacity to look as though as if he didn't just receive a blowjob. As for himself...well, he had been worse off.
"Uh... We're not in fuckin' Chinatown, are we?"
Byakuya cocked his head slightly and allowed his lips to twist into the faintest trace of a smirk.
"No..." he replied coolly, "we are not..."