Title: Where the Wild Lilies Grow (7/10)
Universes: Haru wo Daiteita & Casino Lily
Pairings: Carlo/Magira, Iwaki/Katou, Shouji/Shu Ti Fan
Rating, all over: NC-17
Warnings, all over: Explicit sex and violence. Shameless Romance. This is not an angst-fest.
Word count, this part: 4,000
Notes: List of all chapters over @ IJ here. This fic is for elfflame who wanted me to put Magira in this situation. Also, if there are errors in this, blame blpaintchart. She betaed it. ;0)
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 6

7. Longings and Liaisons

'Do you think they are done?' Katou asks sleepily, removing the pillow he has been using to cover his ears. 'What is it now? The third time?' He pushes the duvet down, exposing his naked chest to the weak moonlight and Iwaki's hungry gaze. It is too hot for pyjamas, despite the air conditioning; Katou only wears the bottoms.

'Fourth.' Iwaki knows precisely how many times Shu and Shouji have fucked, because each and every time, Iwaki's cock has hardened, throbbing and longing for Katou's touch. 'Seems like they've had a lot of tension they needed to get rid of. We should have known, the way they were at each other's throats.'

'You could say that. One must admire their stamina; Shouji-san isn't exactly a teenager.' Katou flops down on his back. 'I am so tired. Please, let this be the last time. Or we'll have to ask Carlo for a room that isn't right over the living room for tomorrow night.'

'We could probably use Shouji-san's,' Iwaki says, hiding the fact that he has to rearrange his equipment that once more is bothering him. 'He doesn't seem inclined to use it himself.'

'Our only hope is that neither of them can keep himself awake for more than a week.' Katou laughs, slipping directly into a deep, loud yawn. 'We'll be able to sleep next Thursday. I want to sleep now, Iwaki-san!' Katou moans. 'I'm so tired,' he repeats.

Iwaki is far too aware of that, Katou's exhaustion - the only reason Iwaki hasn't asked Katou to help him relieve his arousal. To be true, Iwaki is a bit embarrassed that he becomes aroused so easily by listening to other men making out. He has seen, heard and had sex in so many ways and places that it shouldn't matter. AV should have taken care of that - only it hasn't. Somehow it is the forbidden secrecy, the dirtiness of being exposed - or rather being the one exposing - that hit Iwaki's buttons. It could be his brain taking revenge for the often uptight facade he covers his longing and needs with. Iwaki is very reluctantly admitting that he might have discovered he has some kind of kink, one that has nothing to do with the exposure he has experienced during the AV years. This is only arousing because Katou is next to him, sharing the same sounds, if not the same desire to do something about it. Somehow the embarrassment of it simply makes him needy - the odd mixture of shame and lust is close to unbearable. Iwaki smooths a lock of Katou's hair. 'Try to rest a little. It is almost six, they are probably going to stop before the maid arrives. I think you should be safe now.'

'Mmm,' Katou mumbles and snuggles up, his nose more or less buried in Iwaki's armpit. For once, Iwaki would have liked to let loose some of the pheromones Katou always goes on about. Anything to have... Katou. Iwaki sighs. It is rare that he wants sex this much, and of course it has to happen at such an inopportune time. Iwaki slips his arm around Katou's shoulder and closes his eyes. Hopefully, his cock is going to take the hint.

Half an hour later, Iwaki gives up. There is no way he is going to sleep before he has found relief. Katou's warm breath comes in small huffs, little damp whiffs of air that does nothing to make Iwaki forget how it would feel that lovely warmth around his throbbing erection. Carefully, he disentangles himself from their embrace and slips out of bed. Smiling a tired smile, he caresses Katou's cheek as if to take the image of his lover with him.

Iwaki closes the door to the bathroom silently. He strips quickly; the cool breeze from the open window feels good on his burning skin. There is no reason to drag this out. Iwaki wants to go back to bed; he is tired and the hour-long arousal has worn him out. He reaches for a bottle of lotion, smearing some over his fingers on one hand. With the other he begins stroking his half-hard cock; finesse is not what is needed now. Iwaki places one foot on the edge of the huge tub, reaching behind himself to ease the fingertips inside. He lets out a small, muted groan as he teases himself, rubbing against sensitive nerve-ends. A drop of pre-come makes its way to the tip of his cock, and he smears it over the head, imagining Katou licking it off. He pushes the fingers further in, unable to repress a deep moan. The relief is immense and it feels so good, both being filled, and the warm hand on his long-neglected cock.

Closing his eyes, Iwaki imagines Katou behind him, thrusting in, hard and fast. Oh, damned! Adding another finger, straining his own hole so much it hurts, Iwaki drowns in the thought of what Katou would do to him, the way he, buried deep in Iwaki's needy body, would kiss his back, whispering filthy words in his ear, telling him how much he loves him.

'You look delectable, Iwaki-san,' Katou purrs. 'Don't stop.'

It takes a moment for Iwaki to realise that this is not the Katou in his imagination. His eyes snap open and he tries to remove his fingers from his arse, but a firm hand grabs his wrist, keeping them there. 'Ka-Katou...' Iwaki feels embarrassment wash over him. His cheeks are hot, but his erection doesn't waver. It feels both awful and good to be discovered like this, in the middle of a very private... well, action.

'Don't take them out,' Katou says. 'Just... go on. It's so rare to see my Iwaki-san like this - I want to savour the moment.' Katou slowly kneels in front of Iwaki, still with his fingers firmly wrapped around Iwaki's wrist. 'Please, Iwaki-san? Please, let me watch you?'

Katou's pleading look is more than Iwaki can stand. 'I thought you had fallen asleep,' he says, collecting himself.

'Not with Iwaki-san next to me, and those two...' Katou pushes the waistband of his pyjama bottoms down, revealing his hard length. 'I can't sleep like this.'

'No.' Iwaki understands how it feels. Very much so. He ignores the awkwardness of masturbating in front of his lover. If that is what Katou wants, he can do it, he's so damned horny anyway. 'Let go,' he demands, again moving his fingers in and out of his arse. 'Katou... let go. I want...'

'Me too.' Katou removes his hand, only to get a hold of his own cock. 'Let's do this together,' he urges. 'Iwaki-san, I want to see you.' Katou licks his lips, and begins stroking himself, letting out a needy moan. 'Iwaki-sa-'

It becomes too much. Iwaki throws himself into the abyss of need and desire; suddenly it makes it even hotter to have Katou's hunger directed at him without being able to do anything about it. Katou hasn't offered to relieve Iwaki, just to watch him, so this is it. Iwaki fucks himself hard, thrusting the fingers inside to reach the spot, knowing it will be even faster and better if that is stroked as well as his cock. As his fingertips stroke over the prostate, he can't stop himself from gasping. This isn't going to take long. 'Katou... Katou...' he groans, opening his eyes to watch his beautiful husband, quickly joining him in their mutual, albeit separated, pleasure. 'Please, touch me!'

Maybe it is what Katou has been waiting for. Before Iwaki has let out another moan, Katou's soft lips are over his cock, and yet another finger is pushed inside Iwaki, slick from saliva. It is almost too much. Iwaki can't hold back and comes with a muffled cry in his lover's mouth. It is hard to stay upright, the orgasm is deep and dark, spiced by the exposure and the long wait. Supporting himself with a hand against the wall's cream marble tiles, Iwaki's ragged breathing is accompanying Katou's release for his own hand; warm splashes of come moisten Iwaki's inner thigh as Katou arches up from the bathroom floor and comes as well. There is still a drop of Iwaki's semen at the corner of Katou's mouth, and Iwaki cannot remember the last time he has seen Katou look so utterly hot and debauched.

Pulling Iwaki down to straddle him, offering his mouth and his embrace, Katou shares the taste of salt and sweat with Iwaki; a deep, loving kiss.

It takes them only a few minutes for them to shower and go back to bed, relaxed and even more tired. Downstairs, Shouji and Shu are quiet and this time sleep comes easily, despite the approaching dawn and the loud birds announcing the birth of a new day.



The airport is filled with people coming and going; people kissing or arguing; some dragging old suitcases along, others pulling fashionable designer brand bags along. Carlo is looking at the huge screen again. Flight 6995 from Tokyo arrived almost an hour ago. It can't be long now. Not really sure whether he is looking for a tall Japanese man or a similarly tall Japanese woman, Carlo studies the first couple of tourists dragging their luggage out from arrivals. None of them has any likeness to the author Carlo has only seen on the photo on the back of one of his - or her - books. No matter what, this fluent way of slipping in or out of whatever gender fits Sawa-san is definitely to their advantage. Also, Carlo is immensely grateful that this person is willing to help - more than Sawa-san has done already. Nobody has said it aloud, but Sawa and Shu might be risking their lives for Magira. They all might.

Carlo knows with a deep certainty that his life is worth nothing without Magira in it. There is nothing he won't do to get his lover back. Love is the most scary thing in the world.

More passengers stroll past him. Nobody seems to be in a hurry. Watching a family with three small children arguing about who was to carry which bag, before they were met by a group of friends or family, kept Carlo is distracted for a while. When he turns his head, a blond man dressed in jeans and a black t-shirt is standing next to him.

'Carlo-san? You're Anthony Monte Carlo?' the man asks, his English slightly rusty, it seems. 'I am Sawa Nagisa... Nagisa Sawa.'

'Hai. Carlo desu. Douzo yoroshiku.' Carlo senses the man's slight insecurity with the unfamiliar language and uses what little Japanese phrases he has managed to learn from Magira. He smiles, as if to signal that they can both make fools of themselves, using languages they don't master very well. 'Welcome, Sawa-san.'

They walk through the airport, exchanging polite comments about the weather, using a mix of Japanese and English. None of them mention Magira. There is no need, and besides that, it is too dangerous. They'll talk later, when they've reached Carlo's mansion.

Outside, in the burning heat, Carlo has his driver and limousine waiting. With a deep sigh, Sawa-san sinks into the seat, sending Carlo a broad smile.

'This makes my car look like a toy. Carlo-san certainly has good taste,' Sawa says. His voice is pleasant. Dark, silken.

Carlo waves his hand. 'It is necessary for business reasons. Some of the customers who visit my hotel and casino have rather high expectations regarding the service they receive. I don't always use it. I just thought you might like a comfortable ride after the flight.'

'Definitely.' Sawa nods, and takes the glass of chilled orange juice Carlo offers him. 'Most considerate, Carlo-san.'

The large car hums through the city; a small, cool, moving oasis in the desert. Both men are quiet for a while. Not because, Carlo thinks, that they don't have anything to talk about, but because they both want to talk about something the driver is not supposed to hear, despite being a trusted employee.

Sawa is watching the surroundings with a tired interest, as if it is habit for him to scan everything, maybe storing the information for later use. The man's eyes aren't the least tired - the way Sawa studies the foreign city reminds Carlo of a bird of prey, just before the hunt. Sawa Nagisa definitely hasn't forgotten how to be a police officer.

Carlo, on the other hand, studies Sawa. Somehow it is hard to believe this man - tall compared to other Japanese men, and rather masculine - is able to transform into a woman. The male Sawa is handsome, though, with elegant, lean legs and not too broad shoulders. Carlo definitely appreciates what he sees. There is something about the mouth, however, something softer, feminine, as if the soft voice somehow has transformed the lips to fit it. They are pretty lips. Kissable lips.

'You are wondering whether I am able to play the part?' Sawa asks bluntly, not very... Japanese. He doesn't say more, maybe to make sure the driver doesn't know what is going on. He lowers his eyes and sends Carlo a look that could out-flirt even the most seductive woman, as if to emphasise his ability.

'Not really.' Carlo offers the same directness. 'I thought so at first, but not now.' He knows, of course, that Sawa-san was once praised for his role in some TV series. To be honest, Carlo is not sure whether Sawa is acting when he behaves like a man or it is the other way around. Author, actor, police officer, man, woman. So many roles. When all comes to all, it doesn't matter. All Carlo knows is another human has offered assistance in a situation where Carlo's power and fortune are not enough.

Carlo smiles and shrugs. 'I trust your abilities. If you weren't able to do this, you would never have offered to help.'

'That is very true, Carlo-san. Very true.' Sawa returns the smile, then drinks the rest of the juice.

Neither of them say anything until the limousine turns away from the road and up the driveway leading to Carlo's house.



They step into the large hall. Sawa-san doesn't say anything, but it is clear from the appraising gaze that he likes what he sees; the modern paintings, the black and white marble floor, the polished mahogany banister that leads upwards like a shiny, wooden serpentine; the exquisite art deco table in the middle, topped with a black and white Gallé vase filled with white lilies. The scent of the flowers feels so familiar. Carlo likes lilies - both kinds - he always have an arrangement of lilies placed somewhere, both in his house and at his office.

The mansion is silent still, early as it is. The hall is empty and there are only a few muffled voices coming from the dining room. The maid who welcomes Sawa-san, shakes her head lightly as Carlo sends the door to the living room a questioning look. 'Asleep,' she says and smiles. 'Upstairs too.'

Carlo decides she needs a considerable raise. Someone who can manage calmly that this house has turned into a cross between a cheap American crime novel and a love nest for gay couples definitely deserves a reward for her work. Personally, Carlo had to collect himself somewhat when he opened the living room door this morning and found Shu and Shouji on the sofa, sleeping, half-naked and in each others' arms. At least the two idiots seemed to have stopped fighting.

Sawa goes to his room to take a bath and rest a little. It seems like half the house is asleep anyway. Only the two investigators who were called in from Los Angeles are awake. Carlo joins them to take a second breakfast. He has nothing else to do anyway. Until all members of their tiny army are awake he'll try to distract himself from the ever-present worry. He misses Magira so much it is a physical pain to think about it. All awake hours that aren't taken up by practical duties are used to fend off the thought that he might never see his beloved again. Shu's presence gives him hope - a hope they all share, that the invitation Shu has received will indeed lead them to Magira. Despite their plans, investigators are still occupied by digging up leads and traces, but none are found except the ones that point in direction they are already heading. Because of Shu's help, Carlo is fairly certain Magira is alive. He has to believe that.

Despite the flicker of hope, minutes and hours are neatly measured-out torture devices. Waiting, waiting, waiting as the large hand moves slowly, the small even slower, on every clock in the house. Carlo has nothing to do and walks restlessly from room to room. He doesn't stay in this house too often; he likes his LA residence better, and he cannot really find a place to rest, somewhere that feels like home. He is still exhausted and it takes some time before he is able to lie down and sleep. He is not used to napping during the day. On the other hand, Carlo wants to sink into his dreams, to be clear-minded and alert for what is to come, sleep until the house finally wakes up, until lovebirds and travellers are rested and they are all ready to begin the final stage.

Action. At last.



At one end of the table Sawa and three of the private detectives are laughing about something, for non-police officers, distinctively incomprehensible. It makes Carlo feel good that Iwaki's and Katou's friend has been accepted so readily. Obviously, the camaraderie of police work overrules nationality and gender issues, and for that he is grateful. It would have been a disaster for their plans if the hired hands had... issues with Sawa-san's appearance.

'We really lack proper training in martial arts,' the oldest of the detectives says, drying his eyes. 'Did he ever get his balls pulled out?'

Sawa nods. 'I didn't kick that hard. I've heard he had two children later on, so they probably weren't damaged for life. Unless his wife took a lover. He was an extraordinarily disgusting looking fellow and the kids were not that ugly. Personally, I wouldn't have touched him with a ten foot pole.'

'You are few pegs above his class if you ask me,' one of the younger detectives says and sends Sawa a flirtatious smile. 'He'd been lucky if a woman like you had cared to look his way. How long did he get? Five to seven?'

Carlo stops listening to the former policemen's exchange of work-related storied. He shakes his head and turns to Shu who is sitting next to him. 'I was afraid they wouldn't accept Sawa-san, but...'

'Carlo-san... they are working for a gay couple already... I don't think they care the least that Sawa likes to cross-dress. If they have issues, they wouldn't have accepted in the first place. Don't worry so much about things that don't matter.' Shouji leans forward, towards Carlo from Shu's other side. Carlo is sure Shouji is groping Shu under the table. 'Let them have their fun. We all know that tomorrow is going to be serious, both for Sawa-san and for Shu-kun. They need some kind of outlet.'

Shu-kun? Clearly the night before has brought some relief to the tension between the two men. Carlo can't stop himself and looks at Shouji with a decidedly wicked grin. 'And what kind of... outlet are we talking about? Any suggestions? Maybe something that doesn't keep Iwaki-san and Katou-kun awake until dawn?' Katou complained earlier, not exactly trying to conceal the reason for his yawning and his tired expression.

Shu coughs and hurries to take a sip of the mineral water in front of him. 'Let's go over the plan once more, Carlo-san. Just to make sure we haven't overlooked something,' he suggests, trying not to look at Shouji. He is blushing slightly.

Iwaki sends Carlo a gloomy glare, as if to tell him not to speak of such matters publicly. For once, Carlo doesn't care. Even though he feels miserable and in need of his lover, it pleases him that the other men in his house get love and tenderness - or in Shu's and Shouji's case very loud and hot sex. It's better than the fighting. 'All right,' Carlo agrees. Shu is right. 'They all have to know precisely what to do and when.' Their first move is not a dangerous one - not unless Shu's relation to Carlo and Magira is revealed.

'The game is tomorrow at 8, a mansion in... Tournament Hills. We'll have four men there, at the gates, just to be sure we can get in and out. The entire area is fenced and guarded.' Shu looks at the folder in front of him. Reports from their men. Shu mentions the name of the owner, the man who has invited him. 'He invited me, so unless he has any underlying agendas, he just thinks I'm a rich brat who likes to gamble my money away. He is probably looking forward to rob me blind.'

'He wouldn't be entirely wrong about the brat,' Shouji mutters. 'You have a reputation.'

'Not entirely without foundation in reality,' Shu laughs. 'We both like to play, so let's stop pretending we don't, shall we?'

Shouji just rolls his eyes and says nothing. Carlo raises an eyebrow, studying the kiss mark on Shouji's neck. Shu really has to be something in bed if he can leave Shouji this pliant.

'I am bringing Sawa-san as my... companion. It is encouraged, there is a lounge for the ladies.' Shu turns his glass between two fingers. 'They are really sure of themselves to make this some kind of social gathering. I wonder how they are-' Shu cuts himself off. 'I'm sorry, Carlo. My apologies.'

'They are either threatening him, threatening me, or they keep him drugged.' Carlo glares daggers at Shu. 'They are not cutting off his ears and fingers, or something similarly Barbarian. He cannot be harmed visibly, if they are dragging him out in front of people to play.' Carlo states this coldly, almost numbly. Also, he hopes it is the truth. That they haven't harmed his Magira.

Shu nods, ignoring the pointed comment. 'We're going in, we're observing, if it is possible, we will talk to Magira, or find out where they keep him. We're chipped, just in case, and we'll try to hand Magira a chip too, so he can be traced if they move him. That's about it. No weapons, no microphones, no James Bond.'

'No James Bond. We are not going to take chances, and we are deciding what to do with the information - if we are going to rely on the police - before we do anything but this.' Carlo wants so much to order his miniature army to attack, barge in and fetch Magira and to hell with the rest. But nothing can happen that endangers Magira's life. If it really is Magira they are holding prisoner. There is a risk they are on a wild goose chase.

'And Sawa-san?' Shouji asks. 'Is he going to be-'

'Yes,' Katou cuts Shouji off with a determined expression. 'He really is.'

On to chapter 8