Title: Where the Wild Lilies Grow (6/10)
Universes: Haru wo Daiteita & Casino Lily
Pairings: Carlo/Magira, Iwaki/Katou, Shouji/Shu Ti Fan(o_O)
Rating, all over: NC-17
Warnings, all over: Explicit sex and violence. Shameless Romance. This is not an angst-fest.
Word count, this part: : 5,400
Notes: List of all chapters here. This fic is for elfflame who wanted me to put Magira in this situation. Beta by the lovely red_day_dawning ♥.
Summary: When Carlo comes home from a business trip only to discover that Magira has left him, he has to change the passive way he usually takes when it comes to defending his relationship with the charming, but spoiled young player. Carlo has once offered to wager his entire fortune in exchange for Magira's company. This time, Carlo has to realise that his life might be at stake as well...



Back to chapter 5

6. In Love and War

'Well...' Carlo leans back in the elegant Regency chair, for the first time relaxed and hopeful. He smiles; it is the polite smile he uses when doing business. It has a long way to go before it reaches his eyes. Five private investigators sit at the other end of he huge mahogany dining table. The tablecloth is stained and the table filled with empty coffee cups, cans and half eaten sandwiches. 'I have decided,' Carlo continues, 'we are not moving until Sawa-sensei is here. We need his opinion and expertise.' It is a heavy decision, but the information Shu has given them has bought them time. Magira has to wait until they all think it is safe to act. They are going to get Magira out safe and sound, but they need time. Time and Sawa Nagisa. 'It will be an advantage that we can get an observer inside before we make our move.'

'I agree,' says one of the investigators, a former police officer with more than thirty years service behind him. 'The police is doing as little as possible -- despite your connections, Mr Monte Carlo. I think it is going to be hard to encourage them to do more than they are forced to. If you want your man out, you are going to make it happen yourself.' The investigator pours himself another cup of tar-black coffee and gulps down half of it. His intestines are probably close to galvanised. 'Mr Shu's plan is going to work,' he says and puts the cup down. It rattles loudly against the silver-rimmed plate. 'If we come barging in, guns ablaze, it is not going to be easy to explain. I suppose that is what the police are going to try if they get a hold of the rumour, so we better pray they don't. If they at least cared to call in special forces, but not even that...'The former officer holds up both his hands, palms turned outwards, as if he wants to make clear that it wouldn't have happened in his days.

'They are not taking the kidnapping seriously.' Shouji looks displeased to a degree where he could make cream sour just by glaring at it. 'Magira's reputation has definitely not worked in his favour and the bloody police hasn't taken it lightly that you, Carlo-san, called in some of the big guns to pull rank.'

'It doesn't matter now, Shouji-san,' Shu says calmly, sending Shouji a quite angry look. 'Carlo did what any American would do: call the police and trust them to take care of the case.' He turns, letting his eyes slide arrogantly over Shouji. 'Not all of us are living on the edge,' he adds, half-way provocatively, his smile more a smirk than anything else.

'What do you mean by that?' Shouji huffs, sensing the offending, underlying meaning. 'Weren't you the one who admitted that you got involved in this because of some underground gambling?' Shouji's temper is flaring, but for Carlo's sake he's trying to keep quiet. 'Pot, kettle,' Shouji sneers. He meets Shu's eyes, challengingly. The bloody Chinese bastard is quite perky, even for a Chinese bastard.

Shu turns in his chair, close enough for Shouji to sense the smell of his obviously expensive after shave. There is still that annoying, sly smile on the young man's lips. 'Be careful what you say,' Shu advises. 'I am not the one running an underground gambling club.'

What the fuck is the man playing at? Shouji doesn't think he in any way has offended the bloody fool. Maybe a little when the bastard arrived, but nothing serious. Shouji is skilled when it comes to offences, and he hasn't even been close to being rude. 'Are you seriously trying to make me angry, Shu-san?' The suffix is polite, but the sound of it sarcastic. 'Because if you really want to fight, I am at your service.' Shouji's face has changed into a neutral, cool expression. Only the dark-brown eyes has a fire in them. A warning. Shu is going too far, and Shouji is uncertain whether the man is bluffing, provoking or just stressed and worried, like the rest of them. A row might ease things a bit, but Shouji feels an overwhelming desire to smack Shu hard in his just as overwhelmingly handsome face. Just to move that bloody superior, arrogant, immensely annoying look.

'Oh,' Shu replies, his smile predatory. 'Of course I don't want to fight. I've always heard that one should be careful with yakuza.'

'I am not-' Shouji begins, almost shouting. How dares Shu Ti Fan even suggest that?

Iwaki, on Shouji's other side, is out of his chair and pulling Shouji away from Shu before he manages to say more. Breathing hard, trying to keep his anger under control, Shouji tries to shake Iwaki's hand off.

'No, Shouji-san.' Iwaki sounds like someone it would be decidedly unwise to contradict. 'I will not tolerate this. And that goes for you as well, Shu-san.'

Shouji turns, forgetting exactly how good an actor Iwaki is. The dominant attitude and the cold, fearless eyes make Shouji able to calm down. Iwaki looks downright scary: the alpha male has stepped forward, and no matter how bossy Shouji usually is, he reacts with an almost basic instinct to this confident, tall man in front of him. 'You can let go of me now, Iwaki-san. I am not going to touch him.' Shouji is grateful that Iwaki has been able to make him cool a bit. It serves no purpose to fight between themselves when they have enemies to go to war against.

So Shouji doesn't turn to look at Shu. He'll get his revenge later. Then Shouji realises that nine men are looking at him. Some of the investigators have this reluctant, calculating look. Shouji knows why. The bad word, the word that shouldn't have been mentioned in connection with his name has been spoken, and he'll have to do something. Shouji is very aware that he, with his colourful shirts and ties and his slick hair might resemble one of the tattooed brothers. Shouji is a hard man, and hard enough to have stayed just outside the gokudou's reach. He is no yakuzi, and he hadn't counted on having that fact questioned by Shu Ti Fan - or anybody else for that matter. Carlo not included. He is forgiven. This time. They are in a dangerous situation, they have to trust each other, and right now it is clear the former policemen have had their faith in Shouji shaken.

Shouji breathes out. His anger is cooling, turning into a slow-burning fire. He can think again. Calmly, as Iwaki pats his shoulder and sits down, Shouji raises his hands and unbuttons his shirt without ever turning and looking at Shu. He pushes the open shirt over his shoulders and let it fall. His back is lean and well-muscled and without even as much as a trace of the elaborate tattoos that would have given him away immediately, had been connected to the gokudou.

'I'll await your apology,' Shouji says. The words are directed only at Shu. Shouji stays with his back turned to show his disrespect for the man. In a voice low and threatening, he adds, 'Now or later, it is up to you, Shu. But I will get it, one way or another.' Shouji is deliberately rude to Shu. Until the man has apologised, he has not deserved Shouji's respect. For what Shouji's concerned, Mr Shu can pick his own face up from the gutter he just threw it in. 'Have you anything to say?' he enquires, still with his naked back turned towards the Chinese dog.

'You have a very nice body,' Shu purrs, and says nothing more. Iwaki looks up at Shouji, mouthing a no.

'I think we are done for now,' Carlo says before the situation worsens. 'I think we can all need a rest. Rooms are prepared for those of you who want to stay,' he adds.

Shouji doesn't listen. He is striding through the dining room, wanting to get out before he forgets himself, turns around, and throttles Shu Ti Fan. It would feel so good to have his hands around the provoking, scheming bastard's thin neck. So good.



Magira closes his eyes as familiar, yet unfamiliar, hands slide over his body. He is going to survive this. He is not going to fight. He isn't sure if his kidnappers truly are going to hurt Carlo, like they've threatened to do, over and over. But Magira is not going to risk it. If he can protect Carlo with his pliancy he will do so. He is not going to let them know how scared he is, how much he wants to scream and cry; how much he wants not to be here; a mere slave to someone who has done what Shouji always feared: taken Magira to make use of his infamous talent. Please, don't, he thinks, his thoughts are screaming, yet he is not letting out a sound. Not a sigh or a gasp or even a soundless shudder.

'I am not going to take you against your will,' his kidnapper says and the hand hesitates for a moment, cupping one of Magira's cheeks. 'The day will come when you beg me for it. Soon. I doubt you have turned into a blushing maiden.'

Magira has heard of the Stockholm Syndrome too. There is nothing he can say, because he knows that it is probably true that he will cave in. He is not as strong as he would like to be. Also, he knows he won't hate himself for it when it happens. What he is doing, he does for Carlo. And Carlo will come for him. Hopefully before it is too late.

'The day after tomorrow. You are going to play for my employer's money - and win. You are going to do as we ask you, right?'

Lips brush over Magira's neck and arms hold him tight - arms that have held him before, in a rush of triumph over a large win. It feels comforting and scary at the same time. 'I really don't have a choice, do I, Ethan?' Magira finally replies. They have taken away his choices and he can do nothing but to let the stream of events take him. Fighting is futile, but Carlo will come. Carlo will come.

There is no reply, and Magira doesn't need one. Ethan's betrayal is payback -- the revenge of a scorned lover, one who would stop at nothing to get what he had set his eyes on, even of it cost Magira his freedom. He has been bought and sold, for money and for the pleasure it is to possess his body.

Magira's former notoriety and fame has finally caught up with him.



'I think I'll try to sleep a little,' Carlo says and puts down his half-empty glass of brandy on the low coffee table. He looks worn and the dark shadows under his eyes make him look slightly ill. 'We're doing something now. It feels good.'

It is late. Shouji has finally cooled down, and both Iwaki and Katou and the Chinese Bastard have gone to bed. Only Carlo and Shouji are awake, sitting in the large living room, in each their corner of a huge, soft sofa. The room is so big it should feel empty, but soft candle light and plush rugs have removed the feeling. The room is just cosy and warm. A fire - entirely unnecessary, due to the high temperature outside - is burning in the fireplace, adding to the slow, warm atmosphere. They have been sharing a good brandy. None of them have had the need to drown their sorrows, just a bit of relaxation before bedtime.

'Do you want me to stay with you?' Shouji studies his nephew-in-law. The beautiful Anthony Monte Carlo has disappeared, and left is just a worried, tired human being, longing for his lover, almost unable to keep standing under the burden of worries. Despite the seriousness of the situation, Shouji feels something suspiciously close to envy. Shouji loves Magira, to the extent that he is willing to give up his life for him. But the kind of love Carlo and Magira share is not something Shouji has experienced in his life. There has been bed partners, of course, and girlfriends, but none that stuck, nobody who ever moved Shouji the way Magira moves Carlo, nobody who has dared give himself up to Shouji the way Magira is Carlo's: with his entire being. Yes, Shouji is jealous, even now.

'No. No, thanks.' Carlo stands, neatly folding a white woollen blanket that he has thrown carelessly in the corner of sofa when he sat down. 'You need rest, too, Shouji-san. I don't want you to think you need to babysit me.' Carlo rubs his eyes. 'I am so tired that I don't think I'll have problems falling asleep. We have a plan now. It is going to work. I have to believe that.' Carlo looks like a man clinging to a piece of driftwood. 'I can sleep tonight because I need to. I have to. If I am exhausted when we make our move, it might endanger Magira.'

Everything in Carlo's life seem to revolve around Magira. He is the planet around which Carlo's being circles; the sun that lightens up his entire life. 'You truly love him,' Shouji says quietly, the envy a cold pain inside him. 'As he loves you.' It is not that Shouji begrudges Carlo Magira's love, on the contrary. Shouji has no wish to be loved like a lover by his sister's only son.

'Yes,' Carlo says, just as quietly. Then a smile flashes brightly over his tired face for a moment, maybe lit by a pleasant memory, or just by the deep feelings Carlo has for his young lover. 'When Magira is back and safe,' Carlo says, 'I am going to make sure he knows exactly how much. Good night, Shouji-san.'

Shouji lets out a sigh. It must feel bittersweet to love so deeply, to know that one's life can be ruined and turned over by another man. Shouji realises he has always valued his freedom higher than love. The drive and strength that has kept the gokudou from taking over his business are also the what has kept Shouji from devoting himself to a lover. He had his business and Magira to take care of. Only now, Carlo's sadness and desperation make Shouji understand that he might have missed something. Something important.

What wouldn't he give to have another man look at him the way Magira looks at Carlo? How costly wouldn't it be to drown in such feelings as they share?

As Carlo leaves, Shouji pulls the bottle of brandy closer and pours himself yet another glass. He just sits there in the sofa, thinking of how it would be like to have the frustration and jealousy and love and warmth, all in one package. To have a tender smile directed at him. To have a pair of strong, warm arms around his neck (and maybe a pair of slender legs wrapped around his waist at times). To wake up in the morning, snuggled up against a lover's body, knowing that they will have love today and tomorrow and in the years to come, despite conflicts and differences and troubles. It will all be worth it. On the bottom line, Shouji finally sees it - the purpose of love. Carlo's happiness when he is with Magira makes Shouji understand that love worth it - the pain. Every single tear lovers pay to be together are worth it.

And Shouji wants it too, even if it makes him feel like a soppy, romantic fool.



Less might do. That is another realisation Shouji comes to a few hours later. He wakes up in the dimly lit room; the fire is still burning in the fireplace, most of the candles have burned down, only a few still cast their golden light over the white-washed walls. He must have fallen asleep - two glasses of brandy was clearly more than his exhausted mind could manage. He pushes himself up to sit in the sofa, stretching. He reaches for a can of soda, opens it, pleased it is still remotely cold, and takes a large drink of the sparkling mineral water. Suddenly Shouji gets the feeling that he is not alone. Turning in the sofa, looking over the back of it, he discovers someone sitting in a deep leather wing chair in the farthest corner. Squinting, Shouji recognises the person he'd least like to see. He sneers. 'Shu. Why don't you just piss off, and leave me alone?'

'Maybe I came to check if that torso of yours still looked as delicious as this morning?' Shu Ti Fan says, deceptively soft. 'Or if the rest of you matches it.' Shu puts down the glass he's been holding and stands. The chair's black leather creaks a little.

'I take it insanity runs in your family? Or maybe you are the only delusional person?' Shouji has a hard time wrapping his mind around Shu's outrageous and impolite behaviour. Shouji is not the most polite person in Japan, but the Chinese? They are notoriously rude, in Shouji's opinion, and Shu Ti Fan takes the prize. Shouji makes a face and sighs. 'I suppose it is fruitless to ask you to bugger off?'

'Maybe,' Shu just says and steps over to the sofa. He - despite his average height - towers over it, looking down at Shouji with that annoyingly superior expression that makes Shouji want to punch the arsehole in the face. Hard. 'Depends if I get what I want.'

Maybe we should just drop the chit-chat entirely,' Shouji suggests coldly. 'And just jump right to the action.' He closes his fists so hard to restrain himself that the knuckles make small, cracking sounds. 'That is if you really want your arse kicked.' Shouji stands, sending Shu an intimidating glare. 'I'm at your service.' To be honest, he can't wait to wipe the smirk off Shu's face. If the man wasn't so utterly beautiful, Shouji might have done exactly that instead of hesitating for a moment.

'My arse?' Shu asks. 'You seem incredibly interested in that. I've noticed you looking at it before.' He sends Shouji another of those infuriating slow smiles. 'What would you prefer to do?' Shu asks, a strange look on his face. His gleaming eyes express an odd, intense need. 'Are you going to kick it or fuck it?'

For a second, the surprise renders Shouji unable to breathe. He feels a bit like a fish gasping for air. So that was what the provocative behaviour was about? The bastard is really something. Shouji takes in Shu's appearance, appreciatively before he replies. The man is gorgeous, and he knows it. Does Shouji really want the relief he is offered? Another look at Shu and the challenge that both his stance and his eyes issue is enough 'What about both?' Shouji says, his reply close to a feral growl. 'I like it rough.'

'Then what are you waiting for,' Shu purrs, letting one of his fingers trail seductively down his own neck to the opening of the black silk pyjama jacket. 'Or are you just like Magira, nothing but a tease? Get on with it!'

There are no words to cover the reply Shouji wants to give to that. He is up from the sofa in an instant, the brandy snifter toppling over, landing on the floor with a soft thump. Shouji doesn't give a damn. All he wants now is to get his hands on Shu, to punish him and make him scream and beg, no matter if it is from pain or pleasure. The man makes a satisfying mewl as Shouji grabs the silk lapels, ripping the jacket open as he shoves Shu down on his back on the floor. 'I am going to make you regret your parents ever taught you to speak,' Shouji hisses as he pushes Shu's hands over his head and pins them there with one hand. 'I am going to make you cry!'

'Yeah, do that!' Shu's satisfied expression and the way the words are slipping out, small moans that sound like chocolate tastes, so soft and delicious they are driving Shouji insane! Shu bares his neck, exposing it to Shouji as if he wants to submit. 'Are you just going to sit there and admire me, or are you going to take me?' Shu tries to pull his hands out of Shouji's grip. 'Or do you just need a reason to hit me as well?'

'You've given me reason enough,' Shouji growls, and tightens the grip. With the other hand he pushes his hand down Shu's pyjama bottoms. The man's hard and firm already and the feeling of silken skin over the blood-filled hardness makes Shouji harden too. 'I am not a violent man, but in your case I am willing to make an exception.'

'You surely talk a lot. What about using that mouth of yours for something else than speaking?' Shu turns and tries to push Shouji away, using his leg. 'Or talk all you like, just-'

Shu doesn't get the chance to say more before Shouji has crushed his mouth over Shu's lovely lips, taking away his breath. Enthusiastically Shu answers, using tongue and teeth, sucking and biting Shouji's tongue and lips. It feels hot and angry and bloody good. Biting back so hard that a taste of iron fills Shouji's mouth, they share blood-tainted kisses until neither of them is able to breathe.

The small fire Shu's provoking behaviour has inflamed is roaring; Shouji is both angry and aroused, almost blindly so. There is no way he can hold back, no way he can be tender and considerate, but it is not what Shu wants, either, that much is clear. They both want it hard and rough, they both want release, otherwise Shu wouldn't have done what he has done. The behaviour during the meeting earlier was nothing but a test, Shouji is sure of that.

'Tube. Pocket.' Shu's moans are ragged and the words almost incomprehensible. As Shouji tries to get his hand out of Shu's bottoms and into the pocket, Shu continues his taunting. 'You ever did this with Magira,' he says and before Shouji can think, he has let go of the tube and backhands Shu across the face.

'Don't ever even suggest-' he whispers in a tone so dangerous it feels like the edge of a knife. Shouji is so angry he can't think. How can Shu even think of speaking Magira's name in a situation like this? 'I am going to kill you!' Shouji threatens and pulls Shu up by the hair, brutally, a knee between Shu's legs.

'Fuck me first,' Shu just moans, strangely enough seeming to like the treatment. 'Hard. Make me feel your anger.' He sends Shu a provocative look, using the moment to pull his hands out of Shouji's grip. Shu manages to push his pyjama bottoms down, clumsily, and spreads his legs as well as possible in the awkward position. 'Didn't you tell me you liked it rough?'

Fumbling to get the tube open, Shouji just sneers. Maybe he should just strangle the bastard and get it over with. The fact that he is just as aroused as Shu seems to be is something Shouji prefers not to consider for too long - preferably not at all. Somehow he manages to open the tube and smear some of the greasy content over his fingers and cock without letting go of Shu's black hair. Shouji pulls it again, just for good measure, and enjoys the pain-filled cry Shu lets out.

'Hurry, damn it! Get it inside me,' Shu urges and fights against Shouji's hand, turning around. Shu's arse is firm and narrow, and the pink pucker twitches slightly. Shouji's brain ceases to function at the mere sight. Maybe he could just come over Shu's hole, smearing him with his semen before he leaves him, unsatisfied and wanting?

'Not like that!' Shouji smacks Shu's arse hard, relishing the red mark and the lovely yelp Shu lets out. 'On your back. I want to see you when I ram into you,' Shouji growls. 'I want to-' He doesn't get any further before he has grabbed Shu's shoulders and once more slammed him down on the floor. Roughly he spreads Shu's legs, abandoning all sense. Shu's opening is tight and it is not easy to get inside. Shouji doesn't care. He just wants to fuck the Chinese bastard until he begs for mercy.

Shu's face contracts in pain. 'Ah... Shouji... so good! Deeper... ah...' He digs his fingers into Shouji's upper arms, as if he wants Shouji to take part in the pain.

There is a deep, almost perverse pleasure in seeing Shu Ti Fan, Chinese bastard and decidedly annoying arrogant upper-class twit, take it up the arse while begging for it and Shouji thrusts in, hard, making the handsome young man under him look even more lost and dishevelled. Like that, Shu is even more attractive.

Shu lies still as Shouji pushes in to the hilt, paralysed by the pressure and the intrusion, his head thrown back, his mouth open in a silent cry. His breath is uneven and fast, as if it is the only way he can stand the pain of it.

Shouji pinches Shu's' nipple again making him move with him, snapping his hips against Shu's lean thighs. There will be no pity. Shu asked for this. The sounds of flesh against flesh, of Shu's cock and bollocks moving against his stomach makes Shouji's body tingle, a stream of pleasure moving through him. The feeling of muscles squeezing his length is driving him wild. Increasing the pace, he is fucking Shu so hard it has to hurt; the man's little half-choked cries inflames Shouji's desire and makes it flare brightly. 'So good,' he groans, thrusting into the warm, welcoming opening, harder and harder. 'Damned... Shu... Oh!'

Shu wraps his legs around Shouji's waist, again raking his nails over Shouji's back. 'Yes... fuck me harder... harder, please, Shouji!' he moans and thrusts upwards, encouraging Shouji even more with his body.

Burying his head at Shu's neck, Shouji breathes in the scent of sweat and perfume, of pheromones - Shu is so hot that Shouji is drowning in the arousal they share. Licking the velvet-soft skin makes things even worse: the salty taste and the sensation of softness and warmth against his tongue makes Shouji so close to coming that he has to pause for a moment as not to orgasm right there, without warning.

Underneath him, Shu relaxes, and it is easier to move inside him. It is overwhelming, and Shouji can't hold back any longer. It has been months since he had someone in his bed, and far from a man so beautiful as Shu. Damned, how he hates him! Pushing in again and again, Shouji can feel the orgasm closing in on him. In a moment's softness, he takes pity in Shu and raises up, wrapping his left hand around Shu's hard cock, masturbating him like he fucks him: hard and fast.

'Shouji... Shouji... Mmm...' Shu is whimpering, moaning. 'Please, harder!'

The plea is what does it. Shu rams inside the man he is fucking, as hard as possible, and the orgasm pulls him down, making him see stars. Shu is scratching Shouji's back so deeply that he cries out: in the right moment, the pain just adds to the deep pleasure as Shouji comes inside Shu. Shu's legs are wrapped hard around his waist and Shu's cock is thrust so hard into his hand he can barely hold on to it as Shu closes his eyes, lets out a deep moan and comes in large splashes over Shouji's hand. Buddha and all his forefathers be damned -- anger and sex is a perfect cocktail, Shouji thinks, lost in the aftermath of their small mutual earthquake.

Shu is just lying there, panting, until he finally has air enough to speak. 'That was... something,' he manages. 'By all that's holy, you are ruthless, Shouji. You've... I...' Shu lets out another moan, as if the delightful spasms of orgasm is continuing. 'Maybe we could get up from the floor?'

For once, Shu's got a point. Shouji pulls out, quite a bit more carefully than he thrust in. Reaching for a napkin from the table, he cleans them both. 'Not that you deserve it, you dog, but I want to be more comfortable,' Shouji says and manages to get up. He is not sure his legs usually feels so unstable after sex. Spreading out one of the soft blankets over the sofa, he holds out a hand and helps Shu up. After all, he has just fucked the boy, so he might deserve a slight consideration. Shouji considers briefly to ask Shu to piss off, now that he has got what he wanted - and Shouji hasn't. He still wants that apology. Then again, he is slightly reluctant to let the man leave. A few moments with Shu in his arms... he can do that.

'Here,' Shouji demands, and sits down on the sofa, indicating that he wants Shu to lie down with him. The look Shu sends Shouji is surprised, but he doesn't protest. The sofa is deep and comfortable, and Shu's body warm. Shouji hisses as his flayed back comes into contact with the backrest. Shu has done a thorough job, making a mess of his back. Shu does nothing but to sigh, satisfied, it seems.

Shouji glares into the ceiling. Shu is far too comfortable with this. 'Apologise for what you said earlier,' Shouji demands, overwhelmed by a strange need to ruin the mood. They are not lovers. Not even in the remotest, most generous understanding of the term. 'Or I am going to do you again, even harder.'

'And that is going to encourage me, how?' Shu laughs softly. 'Shouji, you need to come up with something more convincing. If you're as tired as I am, there is no way you can get it up anyway. Also, it really doesn't feel like a threat. You're a good lay.'

There is that. Shu is right. On both accounts. 'Well, then I'll just have to continue your punishment tomorrow,' he says, surprising even himself. 'Until you give in and admit you are an offensive, rude, bloody horny bastard.'

'Go on like that, and I might be led to believe you've fallen in love with me.' Shu snuggles up closer, kissing Shouji's neck. 'And I like it when you talk dirty.'

'In your dreams. I am pretty sure I've fallen in hate with you, idiotic fool.'

'Mmm, me too.' Shu yawns like a kitten. 'Tomorrow, then?' The tip of Shu's tongue is pink and cute, and the entire situation makes Shouji think he needs to go to sleep before he does or says something he's going to regret.

'Shut up,' Shouji groans and shifts to lie more comfortably with the close-to-sleeping Shu in his arms. The scratches Shu has left on his back are deep and probably bloody. Shouji wonders if they'll leave scars. He is glad he won't have to show anybody his naked back now. The welts on his skin are far more revealing than any tattoo, and will elicit more questions. Shouji pulls the blanket over them and closes his eyes. Right now, in his relaxed, confused hatred of the Chinese Bastard, Shouji is most definitely not inclined to reply to anything regarding the man he has just shagged within an inch of his life. Not even the questions he might ask himself sooner or later.

On to chapter 7