Ain't Nothing But A Hound Dog
TITLE: Ain't Nothing But A Hound Dog
RATING: NC17
PAIRING: Jin/Koyama, Jin/Shige, Jin/Junno, Jin/Ryo
WORD COUNT:4,914
SUMMARY: Jin lives for the rush and the thrill, and the people who come into the rooms that are his world.
NOTES: je_squickfic for joshua_glass/getnakedplzkthx. Gunplay, drugging, (consensual) dubious consent, bloodplay. This fic was my baby for the month or so that it took to write. I was little worried about how some of the themes would be taken by the fandom, so the positive response made me really happy ♥
Gold is a well guarded secret - maybe the best in Tokyo.
A high-class sex club, buried in basements under skyscrapers and a city block. The door is non-descript, a steel door painted brown where a pair of bouncers keep away anyone who doesn't know the password. It seems like nothing, but inside, the music pounds from the DJ's little loft, and the smoky, sexualized atmosphere brings out the most basic of instincts in people.
Some people come together in pairs, or threes, or more, to work themselves up for something later in a more private space. Some people come alone, ready to latch onto the first person that hits a special chord.
And some people know that no one visiting the club is quite what they're desiring. And among those, some are lucky enough to be given a special privilege, shown the door and allowed through by the sharp-eyed head bartender.
If Gold is exclusive beyond measure, the back rooms are even more so, like an entirely different world.
-
Koyama steps slowly, heart pounding, up to the bar, where Ryo welcomes him with a scotch on the rocks.
"Everything has been set-up. Taken care of," he says, sliding the drink across the dark, polished wood bar-top.
"Thanks," Koyama mutters, and downs the drink.
Koyama sits for another few minutes, holding the glass tightly in his hands, until he stands, and is allowed through the backdoor under Ryo's careful watch.
-
No one quite knows where Jin came from.
He found his way into the club one day, having been enough of a person to the right people and in the right circles to know that password for the brown, steel door. But, he arrives with a swollen black-eye, torn jeans and a Ramones t-shirt that hangs off his left shoulder at an angle. He gets some odd stares, but it's not long before he's part of a staff and part of a club; completely inseparable. And, it doesn't take much longer after that for him to be shuffled into the back by the owner.
Not even all the staff knows what is behind that door that Ryo guards. Some say it is a haven of drugs, others a brothel, and some dare to whisper of even more malicious and illegal acts that must go on there.
Only the select few know that it's Jin's job to deliver dreams upon the worthiest of the clubs visitors. That as long as he stays within their pre-delivered directions, he has creative freedom, to let his mind and body wander, to let the things he feels take over himself just as much as the client.
-
When Jin is alone, he wonders if maybe there's something wrong with him.
He lives for the rush - of controlling, of being controlled - which is why a career in the sex industry is so perfect for him. He gets both and is able to get that shocking rush of hormones and adrenaline nearly anytime. It doesn't matter what his role is, or what the client is asking for - Jin's body always gives him that same wonderful feeling, and after his 'work', he succumbs to it.
-
Koyama is barely three feet past the door, in a hallway where the only light comes from a string of bare light bulbs on the ceiling. There's an ominous click, and Koyama feels a cold, metal something press against the back of his neck.
"Look's like I've found me a lost little kitten."
The voice is low, dark, and right next to his hair, puffing Koyama's hair over his ear.
"Oh, um." Koyama starts to turn around, and the voice laughs. The cold metal moves, pressing against his cheek and Koyama gets a sight of the barrel and he shudders.
"Be good, little kitty." A hand reaches up and grabs the back of Koyama's shirt and pushes him down the hallway.
He's shoved into a room, and Koyama right away retreats to the far wall. The other man stands in the doorway, lit from behind; the silhouette of a gun in his hand is obvious.
"I-I think there's been a misunderstanding-"
"No," the other man says, advancing into the room. "Just your own bad luck."
Koyama tries to think of something to say, or maybe a way to escape, but the room is small, and it doesn't take long for the other man to press against his front, the black steel hanging right in Koyama's peripheral vision.
"This is Japan," is all he mutters.
The man laughs. "It just means getting things like Ebony is a little harder than normal."
He drags the tip of the barrel from Koyama's temple to his jaw, and watches how Koyama pales and trembles, smiling and feeling the sweet taste of adrenaline in his mouth.
"You're my little kitty now," he whispers. "So, be good."
Koyama lets out a shuddering breath, eyes focused on the gun.
He presses the barrel into his face. "How long do you think the impressions will last, kitty?"
Koyama can't bring himself to answer - just trembles more. The other man grins and pushes Koyama's shirt up his chest, scratching at his abdomen lightly.
"Kitty is so fit," his whispers. And, with no warning, grinds his thigh up between Koyama's legs, the friction rough and hard, and Koyama gasps. He keeps rubbing; his leg firm between Koyama's, and the metal of the gun getting warmer and warmer against his skin. The man nibbles at the skin of Koyama's neck - nothing harsh, just a gentle scratch, enough to confirm to Koyama who is in charge of this moment, like the gun wasn't enough of a hint.
So, it's almost shocking at how quickly he scrambles for Koyama's belt buckle, pulling it harshly from the clip and ripping furiously at the button-fly.
Koyama keens, unable to resist pushing his hips towards the man's hand. The sounds makes him grin smugly.
"Help me out first," he mutters, and kicks Koyama's feet out from under him.
Koyama falls, and catches himself on the man's thighs. He doesn't need to be told what to do.
The gun rests against his forehead, as though it were something innocent; but it's still a heavy weight. Koyama opens the man's pants, mouthing at the cotton of underwear and tightening his mouth around the other man's dick whenever the steel of the gun moves along his skin.
"Aren't you a wonderful thing?" The man says.
Koyama makes an agreeing noise, and nods a little against his skin.
He's pulled up to his feet, and shoved hard against the wall of the room, face against the drywall. He feels a hand pull his pants down over his hips and ass, the clothing sticking to his skin mid-thigh. A hand wraps around his face, and Koyama instinctively opens his mouth. The man laughs against Koyama's hair and presses the barrel of the gun against Koyama's tongue.
"Aren't you a good boy?" He says, mockingly, and Koyama can only grunt back in response.
The man's other hand comes down and shoves at his own jeans, roughly shuffling them, and his underwear, down his hips and thighs, but lets them bunch just above his knees. He wraps his hand around Koyama's dick, the grip almost too strong, borderline painful. Koyama feels the man rub his dick against his ass, and he can't help the quiet whine and roll of his hips back towards it.
The man laughs, strong and amused. He pulls the gun out of Koyama's mouth and throws it on the ground. "I'm going to need both hands to deal with you. I can tell."
He shuffles around for a minute behind Koyama. The sound of buttons popping and shuffling of cloth obvious and like music to his ears. The man returns, and Koyama's moans at the feel of skin against skin. One arm wraps around Koyama's waist, and the other returns to his cock. He rubs at the head and fists the shaft as he starts rubbing off against Koyama's ass, his erection shooting a line like fire up Koyama's back.
"Sing for me, little kitty," he whispers, and Koyama doesn't try to hold himself back anymore; moaning and whining and panting against the wall as this near non-person humps his ass, like a hint of fucking, and gives him the roughest, sexiest, handjob he's ever received.
The moment is like a dream, and he loses himself in the sensations, in the mystery, in the anonymity.
-
Jin doesn't linger when he and the client have both finished; the scene doesn't call for it. Just takes a few deep breathes and makes sure the fellow isn't going to collapse in on himself when Jin lets go of him. He pulls up his pants and fixes his shirt.
He gives the client's ass one, short slap, and says, "That was fun. But don't let me ever catch you back in here again."
He doesn't mean that part though. If Ryo let him through, the lean man is welcome anytime he's got the money for Jin's services.
And then, he exits the back rooms, leaving the client to pick himself up.
He goes straight for the dance floor, adrenaline pumping through his veins and clouding his vision. He loses himself in the throng of people, rubbing and gyrating with the beat, and only leaves when the feeling it gives stops satisfying him.
He sneaks behind the bar, crawling on his hands and knees, out of sight of the patrons and Ryo alike. His heart is pounding like he's going to throw it up, and once he's close enough, dives for Ryo, smashing his face into the other man's stomach.
"Ack-What, I. Jin!" Ryo slams a glass down hard on the bar, just short of the strength needed to break it. "What did I tell you?!"
Jin looks up at him, and Ryo knows he's screwed; they're clouded, unfocused, like he's high on some awful drug, but Ryo knows better. Jin doesn't take anything stronger than a few drinks, but sex riles him up, sets his mind humming and buzzing, and he loses control of himself, just wants to keep going until he dies of it. Ryo tries to pry Jin's hands off his body, but Jin's grip is too strong, and he's looking up at Ryo like he wants- like he needs - this rush.
It's with a defeated sounding sigh that Ryo gives up, dropping a hand to balance himself on the bar while Jin rips at his jeans, sucking hard and fast. A few patrons lean over the bar and watch, and Ryo figures, at the least, this'll get him nice, fat tips by the end of the night. Jin's sucking his cock like it's the only nourishment he'll ever need, like Ryo's release is like fucking ambrosia.
It's not the first time this has happened, and as Ryo's eyes start to roll back up into his head and his body thrums in that telltale way, he knows it won't be the last.
-
Shige-kun only comes around at certain times of the year - finals time.
The stress is too much for him and he needs something wholly different to occupy his mind.
He's a bit prudish , so Jin isn't sure how he found or got into the club in the first place, but he's pretty sure that Ryo let him through the backdoor to the rooms that are Jin's world just to see how uncomfortable he could make the rich-kid university student.
They've met often enough for Jin to know what he likes and what he needs, so when he receives a note that says, "You know what I like. Surprise me," he's comfortable in doing so.
Shige-kun lives his life as president of the student body, always the go-to person for any problem and a pillar of his university; and for just a little bit, he doesn't want to be any of that. He wants to be directed, not directing, lacking power, not overrun with it.
-
Shige is 21, so if he wanted a drink, he could get one. But, he's still young and hasn't developed a taste for alcohol yet, and if he tries to order one of the sweeter drinks, Ryo will tease him mercilessly.
"You do know these are for girls, right?" Ryo will say mockingly. "More sugar than alcohol."
So, he's stop ordering them; instead gets a Club Soda with lime. Ryo still mocks him, but less than if he'd gotten a girly drink. Just as he finishes, Ryo slides a scrap of paper over the bar to him. Shige opens it, the only word written on it is "vinegar" - the safe word that Jin has apparently decided on.
Shige slides off his barstool and steps around to the backdoor, which Ryo opens for him, and then shuts securely.
-
The hallway is well lit for once, though that doesn't make it any less skeezy-looking. At the far end, there's a door open with light spilling out and what sounds like mariachi music wafting through the air. What he's supposed to do seems obvious enough to Shige; he walks down the hall to the room. There, he finds Jin, dressed in black slacks and a button-down shirt, rolled up to his elbows in a 4 tatami-sized room. There's a suit jacket hanging on the wall, and two beers on the low table.
Jin smiles broadly. "Shige-kun! You made it!"
Shige knows this character and is oddly excited for his return.
"Sorry for making you wait, Kurosawa-senpai."
"I ordered a beer for you. I hope you don't mind."
Shige sets down his bag, and takes a seat across from Jin. "No, not all," he says and tries to ignore Jin's smirk. He knows Shige hates beer, but he also knows that if Kurosawa-senpai went to the trouble of ordering it, Shige-kun will drink it.
The beer is a little warm from sitting out, and Shige has to actively work to not grimace as he drinks it.
They chit-chat about fake schoolwork and fake company work, just long enough for Shige to finish his beer. He sets the empty mug down on the table, and blinks slowly a few times. He knows only roughly what to expect from Jin and Kurosawa-senpai. The details, though - that's the fun part. And as his vision starts swimming, Shige thinks he might know what the detail is.
"Eh, Shige-kun, it only takes one beer to get you drunk?"
"Um-"
"You're such a lightweight!" Kurosawa laughs. "But, it's okay. I was like that once too."
"How'd you get stronger, senpai?" Shige asks, his words slurring.
"Company life. You get used to it."
Shige nods.
Kurosawa leans across the table and snaps his fingers in Shige's face. "Maybe you should lay down, Shige-kun. You're not looking so good."
""M sorry," Shige mumbles, doing just that.
When he blinks and opens his eyes again, Kurosawa is looking down at him, with curious, mischievous eyes.
"I have a confession, Shige-kun," he whispers. "That wasn't just beer."
"... Senpai?"
"I couldn't help it, you know," he continues, petting Shige's hair. "I'm the working adult, yet you're the one that doesn't have time for me." He leans down, mouth right next to Shige's ear. "I wanted to make sure we... took proper advantage of this time together."
Shige makes a questioning noise, and Kurosawa just keeps smiling.
It's with much effort that he strips Shige; the drug makes his body heavy and he can't move his limbs well. But, Kurosawa is patient and slow about it. Dragging soft fingers over each bit of skin that's revealed, his mouth following in the same trail, leaving bruises and faint outlines of teeth in its wake.
When he's all done, Kurosawa leans back across the table and takes the last few sips from his own, clean, beer. He keeps a hand on Shige's thigh, a powerful and absolute weight. He turns back to Shige, and seems to regard him for a long moment.
"Shige-kun, you're very handsome, you know. And your skin - it's so soft."
Shige makes a quiet, choked up noise, like maybe he's a little frightened.
Kurosawa shushes him, and leans over his body. "It's okay, Shige-kun," he says, hand running up the inside of Shige's thigh and pulling his legs apart. "Senpai is going to take very good care of you tonight."
"S- Senpai, d-don't," Shige mumbles, even his voice sounding heavy and weighed down.
Kurosawa reaches between his legs, groping and pinching at his skin, a dirty leer on his face. Shige twitches, like he's trying to pull away but can't. Kurosawa reaches into his pocket, pulls out a little plastic bottle and pops off the cap.
"Stop," Shige whines, but Kurosawa doesn't appear to hear, or at the least, care.
He lets the clear semi-liquid fall into his palm and then spreads it around his fingers.
"Just relax," Kurosawa says. "But, you already are, I guess."
He reaches back between Shige's legs, wiping it against his skin and pressing his fingers against all the right and wrong places.
"I don't- Stop. Let go."
Kurosawa presses in two fingers, bending them and moaning when Shige's body jerks.
"It's okay to want it, Shige-kun," Kurosawa whispers, pumping his fingers in and out. "I'd be glad if you did."
He presses in a third finger, and leans down, dragging his lips and tongue across Shige's chest; licking wetly across both nipples and biting gently at the skin of his belly button. He unbuckles his pants and moves between Shige's legs, holding Shige's hips in his hands.
"You're senpai's favorite kouhai, Shige-kun," Kurosawa says, pulling Shige closer and pressing himself into Shige's body.
Shige shouts at the intrusion, adrenaline thrumming through his body and he shoves at Kurosawa's shoulders. But, it doesn't help any; Kurosawa just leans over him, and holds his arms above his head against the floor without any faltering of his rhythm.
"Shige-kun works so hard," Kurosawa coos. "So, this is my treat to you. I'll do all the work."
Shige whines and fidgets on the floor, trying to fight against Kurosawa. But, it only seems to excite Kurosawa more, making him grin and lick his lips. He holds Shige's hands down with only one of his own, and with this other, now free hand, rubs a few fingers against Shige's dick.
Kurosawa's pace isn't gentle or lackadaisical; it's rushed, brutal and borderline painful as Kurosawa's fingernails dig into Shige's skin and his movements are rough. Shige's feet slide on the tatami mats, unable to get any traction to move away from Kurosawa and his eyes start to water from the pain.
"Please, stop. Don't," he continually whines, but the sad and scared tone only seems to drive Kurosawa on even further, even faster. He wraps his previously lubed hand around Shige's dick and pulls on it in time with his thrusts. There's not much lube left on it, and the feeling is a little uncomfortable, but Shige is a young man, and given enough attention, he can get hard, even when maybe he doesn't want to.
"I want to see you come," Kurosawa whispers. "Let go, Shige-kun."
Shige chokes on his breath and begs him to stop again. Kurosawa just laughs and leans down, tongue flicking against the head of Shige's cock.
When Kurosawa comes, Shige feels it, inside, and he cries a little, tears finally spilling over onto his cheeks. Kurosawa pulls out, taking deep breaths, but doesn't let go of Shige's erection, just holds it tight between his fingers while he calms down.
"Sorry," he mumbles. "I came without you."
"Let me go," Shige cries.
Kurosawa shakes his head, and starts pumping Shige's cock again, fast and hard, and Shige thinks he might be trying to pull it off entirely. Shige's hips buck into that touch and he hates himself for it, and for when he loses himself in that cruel feeling, spilling over Kurosawa's fingers and his own stomach.
"There we go. Feel better?" Kurosawa asks, leaning over to wipe his hand on Shige's shirt.
Shige sniffles and doesn't answer.
Kurosawa stands and straightens his clothes. "I have work early tomorrow, so I'll be heading out first. Tonight is my treat, so don't worry about the bill."
He exits the room, closing the door behind him, leaving Shige alone, naked, lying on the tatami.
-
Jin exits the back rooms little more than 30 minutes after Shige-kun had gone in. He furiously makes-out with Ryo behind the bar and humps his thigh a little before disappearing into the mass of people on the dance floor.
It's another hour and a half before Shige-kun emerges.
"Don't fucking do that," Ryo snaps, and pours him another Club Soda with lime. "I thought he'd left you tied up or some shit and I'd have to go back there and fucking get you out and I really have no desire to see you naked."
Shige nods, exhausted, and takes a sip of his drink. Ryo goes off to serve a couple drinks to a group at a table, and when he returns, finally notices the scratches and fingernail marks all over Shige's arms.
"You really let him do anything, don't you?" Ryo asks, sounding half-annoyed and half-shocked.
"Sometimes," Shige whispers, picking the lime out of his drink and taking a bite out of the pulp, "I really hate thinking."
-
While Koyama is more than a rarity, and Shige is uncommon, Taguchi Junnosuke is nearly a regular.
When he's in the country at least.
A young-faced man with legs that go on forever; a favorite of French and Italian designers, often jetted off to exotic locales for photo shoots and fashion shows. But, if he's in Tokyo, he's at Gold.
He waltzes in with his crew, but they split up shortly thereafter. Some go to grind on the dance floor, others to go chat with Koki the DJ up in his booth, but Taguchi goes for Ryo's bar.
From under it, Ryo pulls out a sealed bottle of wine, uncorking it and pouring him a glass. Taguchi is always on the look out for a new favorite red wine.
"The other day I stepped on a grape," Taguchi says, swirling the wine. "It didn't make any noise - except for a little whine."
Ryo frowns, and remembers the one bad thing about the model - the puns.
Taguchi only drinks one glass, but takes one back with him as well.
-
When he gets back there, Jin's already stretched out on the floor, wearing only a pair of pale blue briefs. A few feet away, on a portable electric burner, is a small pot, filled with boiling water, and in that water are a dozen or so scalpels.
Taguchi sets down his wine on a small table, and reaches into a nearby cabinet.
He pulls on latex gloves, snapping the edge of each against his skin, and Jin flinches on the floor. Taguchi sits down, straddling Jin's thighs. For five minutes, in absolute silence, he rubs alcohol wipe after alcohol wipe across Jin's back and the skin of his thighs.
"Did you know," Taguchi whispers, throwing the wipes into the trash. "That pessimists all have B negative blood?"
Jin is still, and then scoffs. "Did you know you're not sexy at all?"
He doesn't see Taguchi's wide smile, but he does feel the way the model drags his hands down Jin's back, like he's trying to decide where to start.
He cuts without warning, because he loves the way Jin's body jolts and twitches. The first comes at the fleshy part of his lower back; it's not deep at all, just enough for a few drops of blood to well up. Taguchi leans down, damp breath puffing against the skin before his tongue flicks out, licking up the little droplets of blood. Taguchi smacks his lips and pets Jin's thighs.
Taguchi is always living at someone else's will - wear this, wear that, you can't eat that, have a protein shake instead, you gained weight, how did you gain weight, do you care about your job at all, do as I say. And this is the one moment, where he is in charge of what happens, where someone must bend to his will. He lives for this thrill, for this power, for Jin to accept the shallow, short cuts and let Taguchi drink him up, lips against his skin, stained red, deeper than any make-up he has to wear on the runway. He doesn't need sex from Jin - just his submission and that glorious control.
He makes a few more cuts there, pinching at the edges so more blood will flow out. With a finger he smears it around, and then licks it up with thick swipes of his tongue.
The shallow cuts heal quickly, within a few days, and during that time, Jin always has to be careful about what his clients see of him, because no matter how many times he tells Taguchi not to, the model will always, always cut this surname into Jin's skin.
Taguchi makes those cuts, licks away the blood that wells up, and once it's started to clot, and he can't get anything else from them, turns Jin over, takes in his flushed cheeks and fuzzy eyes, and kissing him, gently, without any force or sex behind it. He lets Jin taste that metallic tang; not because he knows Jin likes it, but as a reminder of who is controlling whom.
He makes more cuts, on the inside of Jin's thigh, sucking at the skin harshly, drawing out all the blood he can, leaving dark bruises in his skin that won't heal anywhere near as quickly as his name on Jin's back.
The muscles in Jin's thighs twitch and tense.
Taguchi pinches the skin behind his knees. "Be still. You don't want me to slip, do you?"
Jin shakes his head, and steels himself, holding his legs still while Taguchi drags his teeth over the tender, torn skin.
Taguchi sits back, reaching for his wine and takes a long drink. He swirls it in his mouth, like he's appreciating the way it mixes with taste of Jin's blood on his tongue.
"The California Shiraz leaves a little to be desired," he says after a long moment, the scholarly tone completely out of place considering their locale and activities. "But really, nothing will ever beat that Argentinean Malbec from a few months ago."
Jin doesn't reply, just takes a series of long, deep breaths.
"I think I'll order some more of that. I had Ryo keep the label on file."
He finishes the wine, smiling into the glass as he stares at the cuts and bruises between Jin's thighs. He sets the glass aside, and grabs another alcohol wipe, cleaning the excess blood away and disinfecting again, just to be safe.
"I'm leaving the day after tomorrow for a bit. Leave the 23th and 28th for me."
Jin frowns. "I'll leave them open for you if I feel like it."
They both know that threat is bullshit; Jin doesn't ever turn Taguchi away.
-
If controlling someone else is a stimulant to Jin, then being controlled is a depressant. They're both drugs and highs in their own way, yet remain starkly different in how Jin carries himself for the rest of the night.
When Jin comes back out, it's like he's sedated - wobbling slightly on his feet and having trouble focusing on anything. He sits on the bar, at the far end won't where he won't be in the way, and pours himself a glass of water with a wedge of lemon. In complete silence, he sits there, sipping at it, and utterly ignoring the advances of others. When he's done, he sets the glass down on the bar and swings his legs over, going towards the middle of the bar where Ryo is chatting it up with a few cougars. Jin hugs Ryo from behind, arms around his waist and shoves his face in the crook between the bartender's neck and shoulder. The one woman squeals, and the other two just stare lewdly.
"Come and go, come and go. No one is ever here for long," Jin mumbles into Ryo's skin.
"Isn't that sort of what your job entails?"
Jin makes a sad, whining noise.
Ryo pats Jin's forearm gently, "I haven't gone anywhere, right?"
"Yeah, but-,"
"And I won't. So stop bitching."
Jin lifts his head, and props his chin on top of Ryo's head. "Ryo-chan is the best."
Ryo grumbles, in that fake tone that Jin knows is just one of his defense mechanisms, and pours himself a drink.
-
And Gold keeps glittering on, like a blood diamond; beautiful, yet awful.
Ryo pours drink after drink, eyes sharp for those whose dreams are beyond the norm and beyond what a normal person can give. He'll whisper to them quietly, lets his eyes wander to the door behind the bar that he guards. No one ever refuses such an offer, and when they go in for the first time, it's like descending into the belly of the beast, where sex comes alive in a person and Jin will drink the atmosphere like it's been mixed up in a shaker behind Ryo's bar and let it become him.
RATING: NC17
PAIRING: Jin/Koyama, Jin/Shige, Jin/Junno, Jin/Ryo
WORD COUNT:4,914
SUMMARY: Jin lives for the rush and the thrill, and the people who come into the rooms that are his world.
NOTES: je_squickfic for joshua_glass/getnakedplzkthx. Gunplay, drugging, (consensual) dubious consent, bloodplay. This fic was my baby for the month or so that it took to write. I was little worried about how some of the themes would be taken by the fandom, so the positive response made me really happy ♥
Gold is a well guarded secret - maybe the best in Tokyo.
A high-class sex club, buried in basements under skyscrapers and a city block. The door is non-descript, a steel door painted brown where a pair of bouncers keep away anyone who doesn't know the password. It seems like nothing, but inside, the music pounds from the DJ's little loft, and the smoky, sexualized atmosphere brings out the most basic of instincts in people.
Some people come together in pairs, or threes, or more, to work themselves up for something later in a more private space. Some people come alone, ready to latch onto the first person that hits a special chord.
And some people know that no one visiting the club is quite what they're desiring. And among those, some are lucky enough to be given a special privilege, shown the door and allowed through by the sharp-eyed head bartender.
If Gold is exclusive beyond measure, the back rooms are even more so, like an entirely different world.
-
Koyama steps slowly, heart pounding, up to the bar, where Ryo welcomes him with a scotch on the rocks.
"Everything has been set-up. Taken care of," he says, sliding the drink across the dark, polished wood bar-top.
"Thanks," Koyama mutters, and downs the drink.
Koyama sits for another few minutes, holding the glass tightly in his hands, until he stands, and is allowed through the backdoor under Ryo's careful watch.
-
No one quite knows where Jin came from.
He found his way into the club one day, having been enough of a person to the right people and in the right circles to know that password for the brown, steel door. But, he arrives with a swollen black-eye, torn jeans and a Ramones t-shirt that hangs off his left shoulder at an angle. He gets some odd stares, but it's not long before he's part of a staff and part of a club; completely inseparable. And, it doesn't take much longer after that for him to be shuffled into the back by the owner.
Not even all the staff knows what is behind that door that Ryo guards. Some say it is a haven of drugs, others a brothel, and some dare to whisper of even more malicious and illegal acts that must go on there.
Only the select few know that it's Jin's job to deliver dreams upon the worthiest of the clubs visitors. That as long as he stays within their pre-delivered directions, he has creative freedom, to let his mind and body wander, to let the things he feels take over himself just as much as the client.
-
When Jin is alone, he wonders if maybe there's something wrong with him.
He lives for the rush - of controlling, of being controlled - which is why a career in the sex industry is so perfect for him. He gets both and is able to get that shocking rush of hormones and adrenaline nearly anytime. It doesn't matter what his role is, or what the client is asking for - Jin's body always gives him that same wonderful feeling, and after his 'work', he succumbs to it.
-
Koyama is barely three feet past the door, in a hallway where the only light comes from a string of bare light bulbs on the ceiling. There's an ominous click, and Koyama feels a cold, metal something press against the back of his neck.
"Look's like I've found me a lost little kitten."
The voice is low, dark, and right next to his hair, puffing Koyama's hair over his ear.
"Oh, um." Koyama starts to turn around, and the voice laughs. The cold metal moves, pressing against his cheek and Koyama gets a sight of the barrel and he shudders.
"Be good, little kitty." A hand reaches up and grabs the back of Koyama's shirt and pushes him down the hallway.
He's shoved into a room, and Koyama right away retreats to the far wall. The other man stands in the doorway, lit from behind; the silhouette of a gun in his hand is obvious.
"I-I think there's been a misunderstanding-"
"No," the other man says, advancing into the room. "Just your own bad luck."
Koyama tries to think of something to say, or maybe a way to escape, but the room is small, and it doesn't take long for the other man to press against his front, the black steel hanging right in Koyama's peripheral vision.
"This is Japan," is all he mutters.
The man laughs. "It just means getting things like Ebony is a little harder than normal."
He drags the tip of the barrel from Koyama's temple to his jaw, and watches how Koyama pales and trembles, smiling and feeling the sweet taste of adrenaline in his mouth.
"You're my little kitty now," he whispers. "So, be good."
Koyama lets out a shuddering breath, eyes focused on the gun.
He presses the barrel into his face. "How long do you think the impressions will last, kitty?"
Koyama can't bring himself to answer - just trembles more. The other man grins and pushes Koyama's shirt up his chest, scratching at his abdomen lightly.
"Kitty is so fit," his whispers. And, with no warning, grinds his thigh up between Koyama's legs, the friction rough and hard, and Koyama gasps. He keeps rubbing; his leg firm between Koyama's, and the metal of the gun getting warmer and warmer against his skin. The man nibbles at the skin of Koyama's neck - nothing harsh, just a gentle scratch, enough to confirm to Koyama who is in charge of this moment, like the gun wasn't enough of a hint.
So, it's almost shocking at how quickly he scrambles for Koyama's belt buckle, pulling it harshly from the clip and ripping furiously at the button-fly.
Koyama keens, unable to resist pushing his hips towards the man's hand. The sounds makes him grin smugly.
"Help me out first," he mutters, and kicks Koyama's feet out from under him.
Koyama falls, and catches himself on the man's thighs. He doesn't need to be told what to do.
The gun rests against his forehead, as though it were something innocent; but it's still a heavy weight. Koyama opens the man's pants, mouthing at the cotton of underwear and tightening his mouth around the other man's dick whenever the steel of the gun moves along his skin.
"Aren't you a wonderful thing?" The man says.
Koyama makes an agreeing noise, and nods a little against his skin.
He's pulled up to his feet, and shoved hard against the wall of the room, face against the drywall. He feels a hand pull his pants down over his hips and ass, the clothing sticking to his skin mid-thigh. A hand wraps around his face, and Koyama instinctively opens his mouth. The man laughs against Koyama's hair and presses the barrel of the gun against Koyama's tongue.
"Aren't you a good boy?" He says, mockingly, and Koyama can only grunt back in response.
The man's other hand comes down and shoves at his own jeans, roughly shuffling them, and his underwear, down his hips and thighs, but lets them bunch just above his knees. He wraps his hand around Koyama's dick, the grip almost too strong, borderline painful. Koyama feels the man rub his dick against his ass, and he can't help the quiet whine and roll of his hips back towards it.
The man laughs, strong and amused. He pulls the gun out of Koyama's mouth and throws it on the ground. "I'm going to need both hands to deal with you. I can tell."
He shuffles around for a minute behind Koyama. The sound of buttons popping and shuffling of cloth obvious and like music to his ears. The man returns, and Koyama's moans at the feel of skin against skin. One arm wraps around Koyama's waist, and the other returns to his cock. He rubs at the head and fists the shaft as he starts rubbing off against Koyama's ass, his erection shooting a line like fire up Koyama's back.
"Sing for me, little kitty," he whispers, and Koyama doesn't try to hold himself back anymore; moaning and whining and panting against the wall as this near non-person humps his ass, like a hint of fucking, and gives him the roughest, sexiest, handjob he's ever received.
The moment is like a dream, and he loses himself in the sensations, in the mystery, in the anonymity.
-
Jin doesn't linger when he and the client have both finished; the scene doesn't call for it. Just takes a few deep breathes and makes sure the fellow isn't going to collapse in on himself when Jin lets go of him. He pulls up his pants and fixes his shirt.
He gives the client's ass one, short slap, and says, "That was fun. But don't let me ever catch you back in here again."
He doesn't mean that part though. If Ryo let him through, the lean man is welcome anytime he's got the money for Jin's services.
And then, he exits the back rooms, leaving the client to pick himself up.
He goes straight for the dance floor, adrenaline pumping through his veins and clouding his vision. He loses himself in the throng of people, rubbing and gyrating with the beat, and only leaves when the feeling it gives stops satisfying him.
He sneaks behind the bar, crawling on his hands and knees, out of sight of the patrons and Ryo alike. His heart is pounding like he's going to throw it up, and once he's close enough, dives for Ryo, smashing his face into the other man's stomach.
"Ack-What, I. Jin!" Ryo slams a glass down hard on the bar, just short of the strength needed to break it. "What did I tell you?!"
Jin looks up at him, and Ryo knows he's screwed; they're clouded, unfocused, like he's high on some awful drug, but Ryo knows better. Jin doesn't take anything stronger than a few drinks, but sex riles him up, sets his mind humming and buzzing, and he loses control of himself, just wants to keep going until he dies of it. Ryo tries to pry Jin's hands off his body, but Jin's grip is too strong, and he's looking up at Ryo like he wants- like he needs - this rush.
It's with a defeated sounding sigh that Ryo gives up, dropping a hand to balance himself on the bar while Jin rips at his jeans, sucking hard and fast. A few patrons lean over the bar and watch, and Ryo figures, at the least, this'll get him nice, fat tips by the end of the night. Jin's sucking his cock like it's the only nourishment he'll ever need, like Ryo's release is like fucking ambrosia.
It's not the first time this has happened, and as Ryo's eyes start to roll back up into his head and his body thrums in that telltale way, he knows it won't be the last.
-
Shige-kun only comes around at certain times of the year - finals time.
The stress is too much for him and he needs something wholly different to occupy his mind.
He's a bit prudish , so Jin isn't sure how he found or got into the club in the first place, but he's pretty sure that Ryo let him through the backdoor to the rooms that are Jin's world just to see how uncomfortable he could make the rich-kid university student.
They've met often enough for Jin to know what he likes and what he needs, so when he receives a note that says, "You know what I like. Surprise me," he's comfortable in doing so.
Shige-kun lives his life as president of the student body, always the go-to person for any problem and a pillar of his university; and for just a little bit, he doesn't want to be any of that. He wants to be directed, not directing, lacking power, not overrun with it.
-
Shige is 21, so if he wanted a drink, he could get one. But, he's still young and hasn't developed a taste for alcohol yet, and if he tries to order one of the sweeter drinks, Ryo will tease him mercilessly.
"You do know these are for girls, right?" Ryo will say mockingly. "More sugar than alcohol."
So, he's stop ordering them; instead gets a Club Soda with lime. Ryo still mocks him, but less than if he'd gotten a girly drink. Just as he finishes, Ryo slides a scrap of paper over the bar to him. Shige opens it, the only word written on it is "vinegar" - the safe word that Jin has apparently decided on.
Shige slides off his barstool and steps around to the backdoor, which Ryo opens for him, and then shuts securely.
-
The hallway is well lit for once, though that doesn't make it any less skeezy-looking. At the far end, there's a door open with light spilling out and what sounds like mariachi music wafting through the air. What he's supposed to do seems obvious enough to Shige; he walks down the hall to the room. There, he finds Jin, dressed in black slacks and a button-down shirt, rolled up to his elbows in a 4 tatami-sized room. There's a suit jacket hanging on the wall, and two beers on the low table.
Jin smiles broadly. "Shige-kun! You made it!"
Shige knows this character and is oddly excited for his return.
"Sorry for making you wait, Kurosawa-senpai."
"I ordered a beer for you. I hope you don't mind."
Shige sets down his bag, and takes a seat across from Jin. "No, not all," he says and tries to ignore Jin's smirk. He knows Shige hates beer, but he also knows that if Kurosawa-senpai went to the trouble of ordering it, Shige-kun will drink it.
The beer is a little warm from sitting out, and Shige has to actively work to not grimace as he drinks it.
They chit-chat about fake schoolwork and fake company work, just long enough for Shige to finish his beer. He sets the empty mug down on the table, and blinks slowly a few times. He knows only roughly what to expect from Jin and Kurosawa-senpai. The details, though - that's the fun part. And as his vision starts swimming, Shige thinks he might know what the detail is.
"Eh, Shige-kun, it only takes one beer to get you drunk?"
"Um-"
"You're such a lightweight!" Kurosawa laughs. "But, it's okay. I was like that once too."
"How'd you get stronger, senpai?" Shige asks, his words slurring.
"Company life. You get used to it."
Shige nods.
Kurosawa leans across the table and snaps his fingers in Shige's face. "Maybe you should lay down, Shige-kun. You're not looking so good."
""M sorry," Shige mumbles, doing just that.
When he blinks and opens his eyes again, Kurosawa is looking down at him, with curious, mischievous eyes.
"I have a confession, Shige-kun," he whispers. "That wasn't just beer."
"... Senpai?"
"I couldn't help it, you know," he continues, petting Shige's hair. "I'm the working adult, yet you're the one that doesn't have time for me." He leans down, mouth right next to Shige's ear. "I wanted to make sure we... took proper advantage of this time together."
Shige makes a questioning noise, and Kurosawa just keeps smiling.
It's with much effort that he strips Shige; the drug makes his body heavy and he can't move his limbs well. But, Kurosawa is patient and slow about it. Dragging soft fingers over each bit of skin that's revealed, his mouth following in the same trail, leaving bruises and faint outlines of teeth in its wake.
When he's all done, Kurosawa leans back across the table and takes the last few sips from his own, clean, beer. He keeps a hand on Shige's thigh, a powerful and absolute weight. He turns back to Shige, and seems to regard him for a long moment.
"Shige-kun, you're very handsome, you know. And your skin - it's so soft."
Shige makes a quiet, choked up noise, like maybe he's a little frightened.
Kurosawa shushes him, and leans over his body. "It's okay, Shige-kun," he says, hand running up the inside of Shige's thigh and pulling his legs apart. "Senpai is going to take very good care of you tonight."
"S- Senpai, d-don't," Shige mumbles, even his voice sounding heavy and weighed down.
Kurosawa reaches between his legs, groping and pinching at his skin, a dirty leer on his face. Shige twitches, like he's trying to pull away but can't. Kurosawa reaches into his pocket, pulls out a little plastic bottle and pops off the cap.
"Stop," Shige whines, but Kurosawa doesn't appear to hear, or at the least, care.
He lets the clear semi-liquid fall into his palm and then spreads it around his fingers.
"Just relax," Kurosawa says. "But, you already are, I guess."
He reaches back between Shige's legs, wiping it against his skin and pressing his fingers against all the right and wrong places.
"I don't- Stop. Let go."
Kurosawa presses in two fingers, bending them and moaning when Shige's body jerks.
"It's okay to want it, Shige-kun," Kurosawa whispers, pumping his fingers in and out. "I'd be glad if you did."
He presses in a third finger, and leans down, dragging his lips and tongue across Shige's chest; licking wetly across both nipples and biting gently at the skin of his belly button. He unbuckles his pants and moves between Shige's legs, holding Shige's hips in his hands.
"You're senpai's favorite kouhai, Shige-kun," Kurosawa says, pulling Shige closer and pressing himself into Shige's body.
Shige shouts at the intrusion, adrenaline thrumming through his body and he shoves at Kurosawa's shoulders. But, it doesn't help any; Kurosawa just leans over him, and holds his arms above his head against the floor without any faltering of his rhythm.
"Shige-kun works so hard," Kurosawa coos. "So, this is my treat to you. I'll do all the work."
Shige whines and fidgets on the floor, trying to fight against Kurosawa. But, it only seems to excite Kurosawa more, making him grin and lick his lips. He holds Shige's hands down with only one of his own, and with this other, now free hand, rubs a few fingers against Shige's dick.
Kurosawa's pace isn't gentle or lackadaisical; it's rushed, brutal and borderline painful as Kurosawa's fingernails dig into Shige's skin and his movements are rough. Shige's feet slide on the tatami mats, unable to get any traction to move away from Kurosawa and his eyes start to water from the pain.
"Please, stop. Don't," he continually whines, but the sad and scared tone only seems to drive Kurosawa on even further, even faster. He wraps his previously lubed hand around Shige's dick and pulls on it in time with his thrusts. There's not much lube left on it, and the feeling is a little uncomfortable, but Shige is a young man, and given enough attention, he can get hard, even when maybe he doesn't want to.
"I want to see you come," Kurosawa whispers. "Let go, Shige-kun."
Shige chokes on his breath and begs him to stop again. Kurosawa just laughs and leans down, tongue flicking against the head of Shige's cock.
When Kurosawa comes, Shige feels it, inside, and he cries a little, tears finally spilling over onto his cheeks. Kurosawa pulls out, taking deep breaths, but doesn't let go of Shige's erection, just holds it tight between his fingers while he calms down.
"Sorry," he mumbles. "I came without you."
"Let me go," Shige cries.
Kurosawa shakes his head, and starts pumping Shige's cock again, fast and hard, and Shige thinks he might be trying to pull it off entirely. Shige's hips buck into that touch and he hates himself for it, and for when he loses himself in that cruel feeling, spilling over Kurosawa's fingers and his own stomach.
"There we go. Feel better?" Kurosawa asks, leaning over to wipe his hand on Shige's shirt.
Shige sniffles and doesn't answer.
Kurosawa stands and straightens his clothes. "I have work early tomorrow, so I'll be heading out first. Tonight is my treat, so don't worry about the bill."
He exits the room, closing the door behind him, leaving Shige alone, naked, lying on the tatami.
-
Jin exits the back rooms little more than 30 minutes after Shige-kun had gone in. He furiously makes-out with Ryo behind the bar and humps his thigh a little before disappearing into the mass of people on the dance floor.
It's another hour and a half before Shige-kun emerges.
"Don't fucking do that," Ryo snaps, and pours him another Club Soda with lime. "I thought he'd left you tied up or some shit and I'd have to go back there and fucking get you out and I really have no desire to see you naked."
Shige nods, exhausted, and takes a sip of his drink. Ryo goes off to serve a couple drinks to a group at a table, and when he returns, finally notices the scratches and fingernail marks all over Shige's arms.
"You really let him do anything, don't you?" Ryo asks, sounding half-annoyed and half-shocked.
"Sometimes," Shige whispers, picking the lime out of his drink and taking a bite out of the pulp, "I really hate thinking."
-
While Koyama is more than a rarity, and Shige is uncommon, Taguchi Junnosuke is nearly a regular.
When he's in the country at least.
A young-faced man with legs that go on forever; a favorite of French and Italian designers, often jetted off to exotic locales for photo shoots and fashion shows. But, if he's in Tokyo, he's at Gold.
He waltzes in with his crew, but they split up shortly thereafter. Some go to grind on the dance floor, others to go chat with Koki the DJ up in his booth, but Taguchi goes for Ryo's bar.
From under it, Ryo pulls out a sealed bottle of wine, uncorking it and pouring him a glass. Taguchi is always on the look out for a new favorite red wine.
"The other day I stepped on a grape," Taguchi says, swirling the wine. "It didn't make any noise - except for a little whine."
Ryo frowns, and remembers the one bad thing about the model - the puns.
Taguchi only drinks one glass, but takes one back with him as well.
-
When he gets back there, Jin's already stretched out on the floor, wearing only a pair of pale blue briefs. A few feet away, on a portable electric burner, is a small pot, filled with boiling water, and in that water are a dozen or so scalpels.
Taguchi sets down his wine on a small table, and reaches into a nearby cabinet.
He pulls on latex gloves, snapping the edge of each against his skin, and Jin flinches on the floor. Taguchi sits down, straddling Jin's thighs. For five minutes, in absolute silence, he rubs alcohol wipe after alcohol wipe across Jin's back and the skin of his thighs.
"Did you know," Taguchi whispers, throwing the wipes into the trash. "That pessimists all have B negative blood?"
Jin is still, and then scoffs. "Did you know you're not sexy at all?"
He doesn't see Taguchi's wide smile, but he does feel the way the model drags his hands down Jin's back, like he's trying to decide where to start.
He cuts without warning, because he loves the way Jin's body jolts and twitches. The first comes at the fleshy part of his lower back; it's not deep at all, just enough for a few drops of blood to well up. Taguchi leans down, damp breath puffing against the skin before his tongue flicks out, licking up the little droplets of blood. Taguchi smacks his lips and pets Jin's thighs.
Taguchi is always living at someone else's will - wear this, wear that, you can't eat that, have a protein shake instead, you gained weight, how did you gain weight, do you care about your job at all, do as I say. And this is the one moment, where he is in charge of what happens, where someone must bend to his will. He lives for this thrill, for this power, for Jin to accept the shallow, short cuts and let Taguchi drink him up, lips against his skin, stained red, deeper than any make-up he has to wear on the runway. He doesn't need sex from Jin - just his submission and that glorious control.
He makes a few more cuts there, pinching at the edges so more blood will flow out. With a finger he smears it around, and then licks it up with thick swipes of his tongue.
The shallow cuts heal quickly, within a few days, and during that time, Jin always has to be careful about what his clients see of him, because no matter how many times he tells Taguchi not to, the model will always, always cut this surname into Jin's skin.
Taguchi makes those cuts, licks away the blood that wells up, and once it's started to clot, and he can't get anything else from them, turns Jin over, takes in his flushed cheeks and fuzzy eyes, and kissing him, gently, without any force or sex behind it. He lets Jin taste that metallic tang; not because he knows Jin likes it, but as a reminder of who is controlling whom.
He makes more cuts, on the inside of Jin's thigh, sucking at the skin harshly, drawing out all the blood he can, leaving dark bruises in his skin that won't heal anywhere near as quickly as his name on Jin's back.
The muscles in Jin's thighs twitch and tense.
Taguchi pinches the skin behind his knees. "Be still. You don't want me to slip, do you?"
Jin shakes his head, and steels himself, holding his legs still while Taguchi drags his teeth over the tender, torn skin.
Taguchi sits back, reaching for his wine and takes a long drink. He swirls it in his mouth, like he's appreciating the way it mixes with taste of Jin's blood on his tongue.
"The California Shiraz leaves a little to be desired," he says after a long moment, the scholarly tone completely out of place considering their locale and activities. "But really, nothing will ever beat that Argentinean Malbec from a few months ago."
Jin doesn't reply, just takes a series of long, deep breaths.
"I think I'll order some more of that. I had Ryo keep the label on file."
He finishes the wine, smiling into the glass as he stares at the cuts and bruises between Jin's thighs. He sets the glass aside, and grabs another alcohol wipe, cleaning the excess blood away and disinfecting again, just to be safe.
"I'm leaving the day after tomorrow for a bit. Leave the 23th and 28th for me."
Jin frowns. "I'll leave them open for you if I feel like it."
They both know that threat is bullshit; Jin doesn't ever turn Taguchi away.
-
If controlling someone else is a stimulant to Jin, then being controlled is a depressant. They're both drugs and highs in their own way, yet remain starkly different in how Jin carries himself for the rest of the night.
When Jin comes back out, it's like he's sedated - wobbling slightly on his feet and having trouble focusing on anything. He sits on the bar, at the far end won't where he won't be in the way, and pours himself a glass of water with a wedge of lemon. In complete silence, he sits there, sipping at it, and utterly ignoring the advances of others. When he's done, he sets the glass down on the bar and swings his legs over, going towards the middle of the bar where Ryo is chatting it up with a few cougars. Jin hugs Ryo from behind, arms around his waist and shoves his face in the crook between the bartender's neck and shoulder. The one woman squeals, and the other two just stare lewdly.
"Come and go, come and go. No one is ever here for long," Jin mumbles into Ryo's skin.
"Isn't that sort of what your job entails?"
Jin makes a sad, whining noise.
Ryo pats Jin's forearm gently, "I haven't gone anywhere, right?"
"Yeah, but-,"
"And I won't. So stop bitching."
Jin lifts his head, and props his chin on top of Ryo's head. "Ryo-chan is the best."
Ryo grumbles, in that fake tone that Jin knows is just one of his defense mechanisms, and pours himself a drink.
-
And Gold keeps glittering on, like a blood diamond; beautiful, yet awful.
Ryo pours drink after drink, eyes sharp for those whose dreams are beyond the norm and beyond what a normal person can give. He'll whisper to them quietly, lets his eyes wander to the door behind the bar that he guards. No one ever refuses such an offer, and when they go in for the first time, it's like descending into the belly of the beast, where sex comes alive in a person and Jin will drink the atmosphere like it's been mixed up in a shaker behind Ryo's bar and let it become him.