Title: Where the White Lilies Grow (10/10)
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: 11,000 – the entire fic: 46,000
Notes: List of all chapters over @ IJ here. This fic is for elfflame who wanted me to put Magira in this situation. An "oyabun" is the non-blood-related "father" in the relationship between a younger yakuza and his older protector. The line of poetry comes from "The Song of the Bowmen of Shu" in Ezra Pound's brilliant approximation (1914) to Wen Wang's ("Bunno" in Japanese) poem. Also, regarding canon names in CL, there're differences from the scanlation to the US translation, and again to the Jp version. Bear with it, if it doesn't sound like the name you're used to. (And of course I don't have my JP manga here. Grrrr.)
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 9

Chapter 10. Mostly Heaven

'Fuck.' Shouji's voice is rough, a grating whisper in the dark. 'Carlo...'

Carlo is paralysed. The entire universe has stopped and he doesn't know how to make it move again. The time has stopped and the now he is in seems to stretch into eternity. There is no end and no beginning; there is only the dark and the cold flash of dim light reflected in the barrel of the gun that is pointed at Magira. Death is so close, far too close.

'Mr Monte Carlo, would you be as kind as to ask your men to leave,' Magira's kidnapper says and his hand clenches the gun a little too hard.

Shouji's fingers close around Carlo's wrist. 'Carlo-san. Careful.' Then Shouji's hand is removed and something cold and smooth is pushed against Carlo's fingers. He looks up, for the first time meeting the casino tycoon's eyes. 'For days I have listened to what my men and my friends have told me,' Carlo says, his voice low and hard as he takes the gun, covered by the dark. 'I have listened to their ideas, I have followed their plans, and on the bottom line only one thing matters: I want my lover back, and there is nothing in the world I won't do to make it so.' Carlo takes a deep breath, and watches the world shake its fur and begin moving. Around him the universe falls in place, and everything suddenly makes sense.

Carlo stands. He ignores the warnings from his soldiers. They don't matter now. 'You see, there is one thing in this world I know for sure,' Carlo informs Magira's kidnapper, 'and that is that I am willing to die for the man I love.' Carlo looks directly at Magira. 'There is nothing left for me in this world if Magira is not in it and there is nothing I won't do for him.'

'Carlo!' Magira tries to take a step forward, but the kidnapper pulls him back, pressing the gun against his neck. For an instant, the strangely foreign mature expression leaves Magira and he looks precisely like the demanding brat Carlo knows and loves, however scared and desperate.

'Touching. Not that I care. Now sod off if you want your little boyfriend to live.'

'Let go of my man. Now.' Carlo has had it. He doesn't care why this power-mad person took Magira - whether it was for the game, or for revenge because Carlo has been too successful, too rich, too much competition. This has to end and it is Carlo who has to end it, he knows that already.

The casino tycoon laughs. 'Ah, Monte Carlo, you do play this game well. I just think you're bluffing. Show me your hand. I doubt you have a Full House.'

'My hand? I'd love to,' Carlo smiles, and without taking a moment to think he raises the hidden gun and shoots the man in the shoulder. The impact kicks the man half way around, making him lose his grip on Magira. Half-way deaf by the sound, Carlo has no problems hearing the casino tycoon's pain-filled scream. It is beautiful. The hand that holds the gun hangs limply along the kidnapper's side. Full House, indeed.

Magira is quick. Despite his bare feet, he kicks the casino tycoon in the face, making his suffering end: the man falls unconscious to the ground. Huffing, Magira pulls the kimono tightly around himself and spits on the fallen kidnapper. 'That should teach you,' he sneers and takes a deep breath and looks up at Carlo. 'It is over now? Please, let it be over now.'

Around them, the soldiers have showed their true worth – they are obviously used to react on the tiniest chances – and have taken down the tycoon's guards. There are a few protests, but the guards seem to value their lives to the tycoon's money; they have all surrendered.

Carlo has only eyes for Magira. 'It is over,' he says softly. 'Magira...' Carlo hesitates, not that he doesn't want to hold his lover, but he doesn't know what they have done to his beloved. It is better to let Magira decide. He might not want to be touched. Slowly, Carlo secures the gun he has used and puts it down on the ground, giving Magira time to react.

It is Magira's first tear that does it. 'Car-Carlo?' Magira stands there, looking entirely lost and forlorn.

A single tear runs down Magira's cheek and Carlo cannot hold back, or his heart will surely break. A few steps and he holds Magira in his arms; warm and lovely and alive! 'Magira... oh God... Magira...' Carlo's voice is suddenly oddly thick and the lump in his throat won't disappear. 'Did they harm you? Are you all right?' Carlo asks, his emotions in a tangle. He wants to kiss Magira, to hold him, to reclaim him and make love to him and comfort him and a hundred other things that is a part of what they have. 'I love you,' is all he can manage as Magira lets go of the adult mask and falls into Carlo's embrace, crying and laughing at the same time. 'I love you,' he repeats, and kisses the lips he has been dreaming of kissing for all these horrible, torturous, painful days. 'I love you,' he whispers again as he lets go of Magira's mouth, wet from tears and their shared kiss.

'You came... you came for me... I know you would,' Magira sniffles and clings to Carlo; his hands buried in Carlo's hair. 'Don't let me go. Never... never let me go!' Magira demands, still sobbing quietly. 'I missed you so much that...'

Carlo is only too willing to comply. 'I won't. You are mine,' he states and kisses Magira again, not caring the least about their less than polished appearances. 'I'll make you stay with me for the rest of our lives,' he promises, and it is not an empty promise. Carlo will never let Magira go. However, it won't do without Magira's cooperation. 'Will you be mine, always?' Carlo whispers. 'Legally, and as my lover?'

'Oh!' Magira's teary-eyed surprise is endearing. 'Oh Carlo!' The arms around Carlo's neck are tightened, as if Magira wants to make their promise to each other have a physical outlet.

Carlo cannot remember feeling this happy in his entire life.

A warm hand squeezes Carlo's shoulder. 'Maybe we should leave. That is if you are done making a decent man out of my nephew,' Shouji says. He puts his arm around Magira's shoulder, somewhat possessively. 'Let the detectives and soldiers do the cleaning. They can dump the entire gang at the nearest police station later. We'll deal with the aftermath tomorrow.'

'I'll go,' Sawa offers. It seems everybody have left the cars. 'I can explain; the police might be more inclined to listen to me than...' Sawa nods towards the soldiers. 'I think I have enough to say to keep the police from dragging you all to the station tonight.' Sawa looks down, at the blue silk dress he's wearing. 'However, I think I might need a change of clothes.'

Carlo agrees. Unfortunately, his previous experience with the police doesn't precisely make him confident that they will be more open-minded to a Japanese gay cross-dresser than they were when it came to the standard variety gay male.

'I'll go too,' the young detective that had been somewhat infatuated with Sawa-san offers. 'I know quite a few of the officers; it might help.'

'You're a flirt,' Sawa purrs. 'As long as we keep it at that.'

'Sawa-san, you're breaking my heart!' the detective wails and makes a theatrical gesture, as if he is fainting. 'I'll forgive you if you will go with me on a date to the police station, though.'

'Okay! Break it up! The leader of the soldiers claps his hands to get their attention. 'In the cars, men. Mr Monte Carlo, Shu-san, Shouji-san and Mr Magira... go home and wait for the police to call. Detectives: debriefing in an hour at Mr Monte Carlo's mansion.' His men don't get any orders; they move like a machine; everybody seem aware of what they are going to do. Someone has taken pity in the casino tycoon and bandaged his shoulder. Carlo vaguely realises that the man should go to the hospital, but honestly can't be arsed to care. 'Sawa-san, if you can get to the police in an hour?'

Sawa nods. 'Yes. And when we get there, I think we might be clever to forget to mention that young man of Magira's. Let's just imagine that he disappeared, if anyone asks.'

'He is not my young man,' Magira snaps, and clings even more forcefully to Carlo. 'I have only one man and that is this one!'

Carlo doesn't protest. He doesn't care what happens to the boy, but if Magira insists, they are bringing him. Actually, Carlo cares about very little other than to get an hour alone with Magira. 'Let's go home,' he says. 'After this, there is nothing we can't deal with. Later.'



With Magira cuddling up between them, Carlo and Shu make a few phone calls, reassuring Iwaki and Katou that everybody are fine. Carlo alerts his army of lawyers, just in case. After all he has just shot a man – well deserved, however. It might not cause him problems, after all it was to save Magira. For now, the lawyers have to deal with that.

The drive home doesn't take long. Or maybe it is the fact that Carlo is satisfied, sitting quietly with Magira in his arms, knowing that he is safe, and the love they have for each other is unharmed as well, strengthened by the trouble they have gone through.

'Iwaki-san and Katou-kun? They really came to help?' Magira asks, his face buried at Carlo's neck. 'Well,' he adds, showing an unexpected sense of reality. 'They probably came for you. Katou-kun, he...'

'Mmm,' Carlo agrees, 'he probably did. You have to work hard to alter his perception of you.' Carlo smiles and kisses his lover on the top of his head. 'But the times are over when you reached for a man who belongs to someone else.'

Magira lets out a snort that sounds a bit as laughter. 'If I hadn't already understood that...' He doesn't have to end the sentence. After all Magira has just had a lesson in how it feels to be the unwilling target for someone else's desires.

'You've grown, my Lily,' Carlo murmurs. 'Maybe there is hope that you'll end up being an adult one day.' He sighs. He loves Magira so deeply, so intensely; any aspect of him, any part of his selfish, spoiled, bratty personality.

'Wouldn't count on it,' Magira raises his head and looks up at Carlo, the love and adoration he feels is so evident that Carlo is taken by surprise. 'But I promise I'll do my best,' Magira says, leaning in and demanding a kiss from Carlo's mouth.

Beside them Shouji mumbles something about soppy, naïve idiots. But he doesn't remove the hand that has been placed firmly on Magira's shoulder, as if he wants to reassure himself that Magira is real; that what they have accomplished is real.

'Maybe we shouldn't have sent Shu-san with the other car?' Carlo grins, not able to stop himself from teasing Shouji. 'Feeling a bit left out?'

'Shu-san?' Magira straightens up and turns around to look at Shouji. 'Shu-san?' he repeats and stares wide-eyed at Shouji. 'What...'

'Well, thank you, Carlo-kun,' Shouji sneers, 'and it is none of your business. The man's an annoying, selfish, spoiled, idiotic brat. Just like you,' he adds and swats Magira lovingly on the upper arm. 'Stay out of it.'

'But... no. Not in a million years! Shu-san!' Magira laughs happily. He leans back into Carlo's embrace. 'You expect me to act jealous and sulking now, don't you?'

Carlo shakes his head, slightly nervously. 'I must admit the thought isn't entirely alien.' A few years ago, the information that his beloved uncle might have found a lover, especially someone like Shu, would have sent Magira into a temper tantrum.

'I suppose I owe Shu-san. You may have him,' Magira offers generously. 'Since you didn't want the best, namely me, you could have done worse.'

'Oh, thank you so much, most gracious emperor,' Shouji sneers. 'Who says I want him at all?'

'Your face, and your expression, and the fact that you haven't denied that you want him in the first place?' Magira smirks. 'I know you, remember?'

'Are we home soon?' Shouji asks, sighing deeply. 'Or can we take him back and ask the kidnappers to keep him a little longer?'



As it is, it doesn't take long to get back to Carlo's and Magira's mansion. They are met by Iwaki and Katou, who both look as relieved as Carlo feels.

'Good work,' Iwaki says, and squeezes Carlo's shoulder appreciatively. 'I am so glad you are all unharmed.'

Behind them, Katou bows to Magira. No words are exchanged, but the sign of respect from Katou says it all. They have all had their share of threats, extortion and other troubles that comes with being either rich or famous – or both. Katou's respect, if not his love, is the ultimate sign that Magira has handled this well, and better than anyone would have expected.

The other cars return, Shu, Sawa, some of the detectives and one of the soldiers join the group. The rest of them will meet Sawa at he police station. One of the men drags an unconscious Ethan out from a car. 'What should I do with this one?' the detective asks. 'I suggest that we find somewhere that is not Nevada to keep him, and fast. That is if you want to keep him out of this?' Ethan groans, and stirs in the detective's arms. The detective looks at Magira questioningly.

'Not exactly a friend, no. But... No, we'll keep him out of this.' Magira sends the boy an angry glare.

Carlo hesitates to say anything. 'It is not my decision,' he says quietly. 'If he has hurt you we'll let him pay.'

'He was forced too, Carlo. And he did try to protect me.' The expression in Magira's pretty face, however, does not bode well for Ethan Hughes' future.

'Send him away, hm?' Carlo's mind turns and spits out a brilliant solution. 'Perhaps a very long trip to, let's say... Japan? Somewhere where he can't get around without help? Would that be revenge enough for you?' I am sure we can find a fifth rate love hotel that can take him in as a cleaning lady.'

'We found his passport and papers. Shouldn't be a problem to send him out of the States. And he better agree, if he knows what's good for him. Before the police begins searching for him.'

'I'll take him,' Shu says. 'I'll find him a detour so he won't be that easy to find if he doesn't want to be found. We might even get him a new name, just for now.'

'Thanks, Shu-san! But I do want him to suffer a little bit before I forgive him! ''The hug that Magira gives Shu earns him a glare from both Carlo and Shouji. However, Carlo isn't really jealous, and Shu has helped save Magira. But right now, Carlo doesn't want anybody to touch Magira at all. Magira is his, he has claimed him, and he wants to state his claim. Carlo takes a step forward. 'I think this belongs to me,' he tells Shu and pulls Magira back in his arms.

'Carlo...' Magira purrs like a kitten and almost melts into Carlo's arms. 'I love it when you're jealous.'

'You've been taken from me, kidnapped, threatened and almost killed. And all you care about it that whether I'm jealous or not?' Carlo laughs. Sometimes Magira is just beyond belief.

'Anything wrong with that?' Magira's eyes follow Shouji as he, too, seems to want to claim something he has set his eyes on. Shu-san doesn't seem unwilling. They don't reach out for each other; no words are spoken, but their bodies are so close, so intimate, in the way they comfortably almost touch that the effect is the same. Love can come slowly (that, Carlo knows only too well) or quickly. There is no doubt that the events have thrown Shouji and Shu together and in love much sooner than if their lives hadn't been at stake. The way they look at each other is pure electricity, fire, lightning. Carlo makes a wager with himself. He bets that the two men are not going to last until dinner before their desire for each other have driven them to... God knows what - as long as they do it in private.

'Carlo?' Magira almost slithers his body around Carlo's, and Carlo definitely doesn't mind. 'I want a bath. And...' Magira's eyes are innocent and tired, and Carlo falls for it. How can he not?

'Debriefing in an hour, dining room' the soldier who has accompanied them away from the tycoon's mansion demands, breaking up the assembly. He probably knows better than most what works in situations like this. 'Sawa-san?' he adds, 'If you'll meet with my colleagues at 2100 at the police station?' he asks politely, Sawa has clearly earned even the hardened soldiers' respect.

Sawa just nods. 'I'll hurry.'

Carlo stops him, still holding on to Magira with one arm. 'I don't think there are words that can express how grateful I am for what you have done for us, Sawa-san.' Carlo makes a deep bow, silently swearing that none of the people who have stood by them during this will ever ask in vain for Carlo's help, no matter the costs or the risk. 'Thank you for Magira's life.'

'I have a young lover at home, Carlo-san. I know how I would feel if someone took him and I was left powerless and without friends.' Sawa smiles and bows before he takes his leave.



Sawa sits down on the bed. The deep, soft mattress almost begs him to lie down and sleep, but he still has things to do. Bathe, change into some of the hated men's clothes he has brought, and then police work. Despite the exhaustion he doesn't mind. Downstairs, three couples are longing for warm arms and and a renewal of their commitment; for a release of tension, longing and love. Sawa cannot have that. Yukihito is thousands of miles away. Sawa misses him intensely; they are never away from each other for long and the lack of love and Yukihito's firm hands on his body make Sawa impatient. He looks at the phone at the bedside table. Oh, well.

Sawa takes the phone and dials the number.

'Hai? Sawa Yukihito.'

'Yukihito, it's Nagisa.'

There's a slight pause. 'Are you all right?' Yukihito's voice is neutral, as if he is waiting for something.

'Yes, I'm fine. We've got Magira-kun out, no one was harmed, except for the kidnapper.' Sawa swings his legs up in the bed, brushes a lock of hair that has fallen over his eye back, and leans against the headboard with a tired sigh. 'I miss you,' he adds, hoping Yukihito will understand the unspoken longing.

'Nagisa-chan.' Yukihito's voice is deceptively low. He is an adult now, and his voice has darkened. It can be hard or soft. Sawa likes it best when there is this tinge of hardness under the velvet.

Sawa knows what Yukihito wants. For a second he regrets having corrupted his lover to this degree, but pushes the thought away. Sawa has longings, too, like the other men here. 'Yes, Yukihito-san?' Sawa's voice drops too, to a sultry whisper. 'I have missed Yukihito-san very much.'

'Yet you chose to go. I am not satisfied, Nagisa.' Yukihito's voice has definitely changed. It rings like steel through the phone and makes Sawa's groin pulse and throb.

'Please, forgive me. I'll do anything to make Yukihito-san happy.' Sawa doesn't lie. He wants Yukihito to demand anything from him; anything that can refresh Yukihito's desire and love.

'It would make me happy and forgiving if you were here,' Yukihito says quietly. 'I'd forgive you then.'

'Yukihito-san... I'm so sorry!' Sawa clutches the phone desperately. Yukihito does this on purpose, to drive him insane! 'Tell me what to do right now to make you overlook this horrible behaviour of mine. I love you, Yukihito-san,' Sawa continues, knowing that Yukihito will react to the begging.

'Then please me, Nagisa.' The words are whiplash sharp.

Yukihito is very well aware what his voice does to Sawa. 'I beg you,' Sawa whispers, 'tell me what to do to make you pleased.' Sawa is getting aroused. Sometimes it frustrates him that it is so easy for Yukihito to drive him so far out. The young boy has taken the power Sawa once gave him and developed it into this irresistible steel trap.

'Then tell me what you want me to do to you. Tell me what you would like right now.'

'I-' There is a pause. Yukihito likes to make Sawa use a language not fit for a lady. He makes Sawa blush and squirm. It isn't as if Sawa can't say the words, but under Yukihito's body he becomes his woman, and the words sting in his throat. Yukihito-san likes that too.

'I am waiting, Nagisa. Do not test my patience. Kneel for me, and pull your dress up. I will not tolerate any hesitancy.'

'No, of course not.' Sawa turns and sits on his knees, pulling the blue silk up around his waist. 'If I was with you,' Sawa whispers, slightly breathless as his arousal flares, 'I'd like to lie naked under you, tied up, with my legs spread wide...' Sawa sighs, and takes a deep breath. His mind is filled with thoughts of Yukihito, and the words are not that hard to find. 'I'd be naked and open for you, so you could push your fingers in me, playing with me until I'd cry out and beg for you to fill me.' Sawa slides a finger up his inner thigh, imagining it is Yukihito who does it.

'You are not allowed to touch yourself there yet,' Yukihito says, stopping Sawa's hand before it reaches its goal. 'Open your dress and pinch your nipples hard. I want to hear you gasp from pain.'

'Oh... Yukihito-san...' Sawa closes his eyes; the desire for his young master is overwhelming him. 'I wish it was you... your fingers, your hands on me... oh...' Sawa does what he's been told, and the pain feels good, as if it is clearing his mind so that all there is left are his longing for Yukihito. Sawa can hear a rustle of clothes through the phone. 'If I were with you,' Sawa moans and pinches his other nipple hard, 'I'd be on my knees for you, on the floor. I'd beg you to let me lick you... suck you until you'd dirty my mouth and my face...'

'Na- Nagisa...' Yukihito's voice is rough, throaty. He moans and it makes Sawa even more aroused.

'Please, Yukihito-san... may I? Let me?' What Sawa wants the most he cannot have. Sex is better when he feels like the woman he wants to be; with Yukihito's erection buried deep in his welcoming body. 'Let me put a finger inside, I beg you!'

In the phone there is only the sound of Yukihito's increasingly ragged breathing. 'You... ah... may...' Yukihito manages, on the verge of his orgasm. Sawa knows his lover so well, is so attuned to every breath he makes, every little sound or movement that might show Sawa how to please his young master even better.

Sawa licks a finger, wetting it as well as possible, before he pushes his blue silk knickers aside, pushing the fingertip against the opening. It slides in, and impatiently Sawa pushes in as deep as possible, searching for that spot. He rubs it hard, almost feverishly, wanting to follow Yukihito over the edge. It is better than touching himself on the outside, those male parts that feel so alien to the rest of his body.

'When you are home, I'll tie you up and take you hard so many times you won't be able to walk,' Yukihito groans, uncharacteristically blunt. 'Come home... Nagisa-chan!' There's a pause and a deep moan. Sawa knows that Yukihito is coming, silently, quietly, like he always does, with his hard, dark eyes open, his mouth closed, as if he can keep the feeling inside longer that way.

'Yes! Oh, yes, Yukihito-san... I want you!' Sawa cries out, thrusting against his own hand a few times before he, too, comes, spilling himself in the expensive, laced silk knickers. 'Oh, Yukihito-san...' Sawa sobs and gasps, trying to breathe, trying to keep sitting on his knees. He can't and slumps down in a dishevelled heap on the bed. Yukihito always manages this, to make Sawa melt. 'I love you, Yukihito,' Sawa whispers softly.

'Come home, Nagisa.' Yukihito flows easily out of his role as Sawa's master, changing back into his other self, the slightly insecure and reserved young man he also is. 'I miss you so much.'

If nothing else, the years have taught them both to be honest about their feelings and need for each other. 'I promise,' Sawa says. 'As soon as I've talked to the police. First available plane.'

'Just hurry,' Yukihito says and disconnects.

Sawa smiles, relaxed and satisfied, and gets out of bed, slightly dizzy. He heads for the bathroom to take the shower that is now more than necessary. Tomorrow... tomorrow he'll be on his way back to Japan, to Yukihito.



'This is heaven.' Magira has showered and steps into the huge bathtub. The water is so hot that the entire room is slightly foggy. Carlo feels a bit like a lobster thrown into boiling water. But Magira likes it this way, and what Magira likes, he gets. That is how it has always been. 'I dreamt of this, of being in your arms,' Magira admits and sits down, almost crawling into Carlo's lap.

Carlo wraps his arms around his lover. 'The nights were the worst. I was so afraid what they would do to you.' Carlo tries not to make it a question. He wants to let Magira tell what has happened in his own pace. There has been force enough as it is. Carlo leans back, his head against the side of the tub. The air is lemon-scented from the bathing oil they've used and the scent makes Carlo think of spring and new beginnings. 'You've grown,' he adds. The old Magira would have been broken and wailing in his arms.

'Carlo, they didn't do anything to me. They threatened you. If I didn't do this or that, it would be taken out on Mr Monte Carlo. It became quite trite. Problem was that I believed them.'

'But they... no matter what, they did do something to you, Magira. Just because they didn't touch you in that way...' In Carlo's mind the moment when the tycoon presses his gun against Magira's skin is played over and over. 'I am glad they didn't touch you in any... ' Carlo discards any diplomacy. 'They didn't rape you at least, on top of all the other things they did to force you. That is something to be grateful for.'

Magira laughs, a strangely mature, deep laughter. 'No, they didn't. I kissed Ethan, though, to use him. Haven't forgotten my old tricks.' Magira's love for Carlo is evident when he looks up. 'I pretended it was you. Every time I touched him, I pretended it was you.'

'Just break my heart, will you,' Carlo sighs and pulls Magira close. 'Oh Magira!' Carlo can feel the tension and the anxiety take their toll this moment where he can finally relax. 'I'll never let you go! I'll never let anyone take you from me like this. Or in any other way for that matter. You are mine!'

'Very much so. I knew you would come for me, Carlo. Every time I felt like giving up, you were there in my mind, reassuring me that you'd come. I knew you would.' Magira leans in and kisses Carlo's neck. The kiss lingers, and Magira's warm lips stir sensations in Carlo that he prefers to keep down for the moment. Magira needs to recover before they can think of doing anything like that.

'It was pure brilliance to send Shu-san and Sawa-san.' Magira tilts his head a bit, enough for Carlo to see the hint of malice in Magira's eyes. 'Shu-san and Sawa-san are very good kissers. And Sawa-san certainly hasn't let his body deteriorate since he was a policeman.'

Carlo holds his breath for a moment. He can feel his old jealousy flare. He reaches inside himself, for the tight control he used through the years where he allowed Magira to do anything – and anyone – he liked.

Magira turns and sits on his knees. The look in his eyes says that he knows exactly what Carlo is trying to do. 'It wasn't too bad to be sandwiched between the two of them. They are both gorgeous. Unfortunately they were very careful not to touch me anywhere... interesting.' Stretching his body, Magira sends Carlo a provocative, almost seductive, glance. 'Maybe I should have taken the chance to actually do it with Shu-san... before he is busy elsewhere.'

'Magira!' Carlo cannot hold back a shocked outburst. 'If you want someone else so bad-'

Magira cuts Carlo off. 'Are you stupid? I don't. I want you. And I want you to prove that I am yours. Right now!' Magira pouts. 'And stop the tip-toeing. I'm not made of glass.'

'That can be arranged,' Carlo rages and pushes Magira away. He has had it. There are no more thoughts about tenderness and consideration left. In a second he is up from the tub. He reaches for Magira, pulling him up in his arms, finding the strength to carry his lover to their bed. Magira's arms are around his neck; he is clinging so hard to Carlo it seems that he never will let go.

'Hurry,' Magira demands, as they both land on the bed, dripping wet. Their urgency doesn't allow time for drying off, or for anything else: Carlo wants to satisfy Magira's need, instantly. He rummages around in one of the bedside table's drawers, finding a small bottle of lubrication.

'Are you sure you want this now?' Carlo asks, wanting to confirm that Magira is ready, after all the events have been fairly traumatising. He pushes Magira's legs apart, leaning over him, one hand on each side of Magira's pretty face. 'You are mine, whether I take you now or not. I will never let you go. Never, Magira.'

'Then make love to me. I longed for this every moment of the time I was gone. The way you always comfort me, or make me cry out in pleasure... Carlo... please?'

Magira looks so adorable that Carlo can hardly stand it. 'I love you, Magira.' He smiles and kisses Magira, softly at first, then more demanding as Magira replies enthusiastically with teeth and tongue. Fumbling for the lubrication, Carlo manages to open the bottle and pour some of the stuff over his fingers. Half of the sticky substance ends up on the bed, but now is not the time to care about that.

Magira gasps, half way in pain, but mostly in pleasure as Carlo presses two fingers inside the warm tightness of Magira's body.

'Oh... oh, Carlo...' Magira squirms a little, adjusting to the intrusion. 'Deeper,' he begs, letting his body follow the shallow thrusts to get the fingers further up.

Carlo is licking and biting Magira's neck, taking deep breaths, wanting to relish the scent of soap and lemon and the sweetness that is Magira's own scent. Every sense adds to confirm that Magira is here, unharmed, in Carlo's arms. 'More,' Carlo whispers. 'More fingers?'

'More you,' Magira gasps, relaxing as Carlo slides another finger inside, a bit too early. 'Feels so good.' Biting his lip, Magira is so sexy, so utterly attractive that Carlo thinks he might have died and gone to heaven to have such a lovely creature at his disposal. Carlo withdraws his fingers, using the excess oil to slick himself up before he presses against Magira's opening. Magira throws his head back; the mouth half open, the lips glistening from the many kisses they have shared.

The feeling of the tight channel almost undoes Carlo. He wants to come, right there, as he slides inside his lover's body; only an immense portion of self-restraint prevents him from coming. It is as if Magira senses how hard it is to hold back; he lies there, not moving, until Carlo is fully inside, in to the hilt, buried in Magira's warmth. Slowly, almost tryingly, Magira raises his legs and wraps them around Carlo's back.

'Please, Carlo... please take me,' Magira whispers softly. 'I need you so badly...' Magira tilts his hips, starting this slow, intimate dance; their bodies so close... slow, indolent movements, as if their love for each other is an ocean that move them both. The languid waves of desire and pleasure wash over them, letting them drown in the depth of their emotions. Carlo's long hair has fallen over his face, there is this tiny little world, framing their faces, there is only the two of them and their need.

The pleasure becomes unbearably good. Magira's body contracts and releases, caressing movements encasing Carlo's erection. 'I... can't...' he moans against Magira's mouth, sharing breath and little sighs with him.

'Don't stop,' Magira breathes. 'Don't stop, Carlo.. ' He offers his body to Carlo, tilting his hips upwards, as if to get Carlo deeper inside. 'Come inside me.'

Carlo doesn't hesitate. It is too much. Too much emotion, too much pleasure. Pressing a hand between their bodies, he caresses Magira's hardness, wet and ready too. Thrusting harder, their breath becomes ragged and loud; none of them care if they are heard. Anyone with a speck of common sense will understand the need they have for each other.

'Magira... Magira... missed you so... love you so much' Carlo whispers sweet nothings in Magira's ear, feeling his orgasm well through him, through heart and body and mind. 'Magira!' Carlo cries out as Magira whimpers and something warm and wet spreads between them. Carlo pushes inside, hard, as far as he can; the waves of something all-encompassing, shattering overtakes his body, leaving him helpless in the waves of their common release.

It takes somewhere between minutes or an eternity to get back to dry land. This relaxed, almost-awake state... Carlo doesn't want to leave it. With an exhausted Magira cuddled up in his embrace, the world looks very nice from Carlo's point of view. All the practical things they have to face soon... tonight, tomorrow... he doesn't want to deal with them. His world consists this instant only of Magira and the love Carlo has for him. Nothing else matters.

'Love you,' Magira murmurs sleepily, and makes Carlo smile. ''s getting sticky.'

'Do you want to shower?' Carlo asks, knowing they can't stay in their small world much longer. Nevertheless, Magira has endured the stickiness longer than he usually does – he never really got rid of the fear of being dirtied that so many Japanese suffer from.

'No,' Magira says. 'I'd rather stay here, but there are people downstairs, waiting.'

Carlo sends his young lover a puzzled look. Yes, Magira has certainly learnt from this. Carlo is not sure he understands this new, improved version, but he looks forward to get to know him. 'I know. I'd rather, too.' Carlo can't keep the deep love he has for Magira out of his voice and his gaze.

'But were adults now?' Magira smiles, a slow, wide, happy smile that lights up his face. 'Come on. We have the whole night, after, eh?' Magira gets out of bed, wrinkling his nose as a trickle of Carlo's semen runs down his inner thigh. 'I'll go first.'

When they have showered, Magira looks slightly desperate at his wardrobe. It is close to empty. 'They took all my clothes.' He finds a pair of briefs that have been left in a corner.

'Er- I have these,' Carlo says and can feel his skin flush with embarrassment. He reaches underneath his pillow, pulling out the pair of red trousers that he has kept with him like a good luck charm during this.

'Oh, Carlo!' Magira falls on his knees in front of his lover, arms around his waist. 'I'm so sorry for all the trouble I've given you. I think I've lost the jacket to go with them,' he adds, confusing Carlo for a moment. Magira looks at the slightly wrinkled trousers. 'These will do, and one of your shirts.' Clothes don't really matter to any of them right now.

They manage to dress, readying themselves to go down to debriefing and dinner. It would have felt so good to forget about the world outside, but it will haunt them and reach them sooner or later. And they are both done with being powerless. From now on, Carlo will kick the world in its ugly face if it dares sneer at him. There is no doubt that the next days will be taxing. But Carlo will have Magira with him, and together there is nothing they cannot do.



As they step out of the bedroom, Magira grabs Carlo's shoulder as not to trip over a suitcase. 'Oh, they found it!' Magira bends down and opens the suitcase, regarding the neatly packed clothes with some suspicion. He straightens up and bites his lip, as if he is considering something. Then he leans over the suitcase, rummages around in it and drags out a red jacket, the one that goes with the trousers he is wearing. 'I'll keep this one,' he says, and pulls the jacket on. 'I am not sure I want the rest. It feels dirty... all the... they've...'

'Doesn't matter.' Carlo understands. Too many people have touched Magira's belongings. Indeed, it is nothing that can just be washed off. It is the kind of dirty that doesn't disappear. 'Just throw them out. Give them away.' He kisses Magira, brushing over the red suit. It seems as if nothing can dirty that. Magira's armour. Carlo's luck. The symbol of what they have together. 'As long as you are here, unharmed... that is all that matters.'

Hand in hand they walk downstairs. The maid and the cook have been busy and made a lush meal for them. Various delicious dishes spread their mouth-watering smell in the dining room. Someone has been in the wine cellar and found some Champagne. Well, Champagne and chicken pâté have never harmed each other, Carlo muses and feels very hungry at the sight of the many delicious courses his employees have managed to produce in an hour.

The remains of the small army are soon gathered, all seem unharmed and starving. As they dig in, the old detective goes through the events, letting them all add their piece to the story. It makes sense to do it like this; questions are answered and guilt is relieved. They all help to add to the painting that shows the full picture of what has happened. It makes it easier to tone Ethan Hughes's participation down a notch; no one is going to believe anything the casino tycoon is saying anyway, not after his threat to kill Magira. Carlo's lawyers have already made sure that that particular event is emphasised, not only to keep Carlo out of jail, but also to keep the tycoon in it. A phone call from Sawa and the soldiers have already made it clear that the police are cooperating, and that the trouble they might meet before the case is closed aren't going to be insurmountable.

'Sawa-san, Mr Shu and Mr Shouji are free to travel tomorrow, after they have made their statements,' the detective informs them. They are of course expected back if needed, and for the trial. No one objects to that; they have nothing to hide or flee from, something even the police has realised.

'Just proves that one should be careful not to get too close to this family,' Shu says, earning himself a dark glare from Shouji. 'Carlo-san, if you ever get tired of Magira, the two of us can rule the gambling world. Any time you are willing.' Shu winks and sends Carlo a mock seductive glance.

Carlo laughs and puts his arm around Magira's shoulder. 'Not in this lifetime, Shu-san. Not in this lifetime.' Carlo thinks it might perhaps be easier for Shu and Shouji if they just admitted that they like each other. Nevertheless, the baiting is amusing to watch, especially since Carlo doesn't have Magira to worry about now.

'Thinking that you can swap partners like you can swap cards? Got a bad hand?' Shouji is not happy. Magira's uncle is more honest and direct than Shu, and maybe more sensitive, when all comes to all. 'You might end up like the annoying, unpopular boy no one cares to play with.'

'Really? Maybe I went for three queens and all I got was the one-eyed Jack.' Shu snorts and looks at Shouji as if he were a less than appealing member of one of the lower orders of insects. Shu turns away and tells Carlo calmly that, 'he had never aimed to be the kept man of an uneducated yakuza-prospect who speaks English like a Brooklyn thug and dresses like a colour-blind Hawaiian.'

The entire table falls silent. Carlo tries very hard not to laugh, and without looking at Magira, he knows he feels the same. The way Magira is clutching Carlo's hand under the table tells it all. Only Iwaki and Katou look slightly shocked; perhaps it is a bit overwhelming for them to hear Shu and Shouji air their communication-troubled wooing at the dinner table.

Shouji folds his napkin neatly and puts it down on the table. 'I think we have had this conversation, or one that was similar to it, Shu-kun. I didn't like it then, and I don't like it now.' Shouji pushes his chair back, stands and turns to face Shu who still sits at the table. Shouji bends down a little, a hand on each of Shu's shoulders. 'Will you please tell me what I told you then? If your bird-brain is actually able to come up with that information?'

'Oh my, Shouji-san! In-for-ma-tion? A four syllable word? Trying to surprise me? Or are you maybe willing to show me that gorgeous tattoo-less body of yours again to prove that you are no half-wit Tokyo gangster?'

Shouji's fingers tighten around Shu's shoulders, and the man makes a satisfying whimper of pain. 'I have one or two things I'd like to prove, yes,' Shouji growls. 'So get up of that chair and into your room, unless you'd want me to prove them while we're being watched.' Shouji lets go of Shu's shoulders and buries a hand in his black hair. 'Now.' Unceremoniously, he pulls Shu up from the chair by the hair, ignoring the man's pained whimpering as he drags him along.

The last words the men at the dining table can hear is Shu moaning a throaty, 'Oh, Shouji-san... yes!' before a door is shut with a bang.

'I should beat the crap out of you, you arrogant little shit,' Shouji sneers as he closes the door, slamming Shu up against the bedroom wall. 'How dare you behave like that? You really want me to hit you that badly?' Shouji doesn't hesitate. He rips Shu's shirt open, disregarding that there are buttons to ease such an operation. It takes too long and Shouji doesn't mind that he destroys the thing. He wants access to Shu's beautiful body now.

'I don't care,' Shu moans. 'As long as you put this,' he cups Shouji's erection, 'inside me. Do what you like... beat me, tie me up - as long as you fuck me, and fast! What the hell were you waiting for, you pathetic excuse for a yakuza? Did it really take more than an hour to make up your mind? Or did you have to wait for your oyabun to give you permission to shove your cock up my arse? Perhaps you are so dense that you need a map to find it?' Shu's half-naked, provocative stance alone is enough to drive Shouji into a rage of lust and anger, and Shu's dirty mouth only fuels the fire.

Impatiently, Shouji opens Shu's trousers and pulls them down, boxers with them. 'Off,' he snaps and slams Shu into the wall once more, just for good measure. 'Move, and I'll make it a very uncomfortable experience for you to be accompanied back to this particular spot,' Shouji threatens and looks around for something that can be used as lubrication.

Shu is breathing heavily, lust and expectation evident in the way he rubs against Shouji. 'Wait,' he purrs. 'If you are looking for what I think you're looking for, it isn't necessary.'

Shouji yanks Shu flush against his body. 'Have you gone insane? I am not even going to try fucking you dry. I have figured out you like it when it hurts, but that is not-'

Entangling his fingers with Shouji's, Shu reaches behind himself, guiding Shouji's fingers towards his opening. 'When I said I wanted it fast, do you think I'd be unprepared?' Shu whispers and leaves it up to Shouji to find out exactly how prepared he is.

'Fuck, you are the dirtiest Chinese bastard in- and outside of that sodding republic!' Shouji is so hard it hurts. Better let Shu pay for it since they both enjoy that kind of payment. Opening his own trousers, Shouji shoves Shu towards the wall one more time. 'I am going to fuck you so hard you'll beg me to stop,' he sneers and lifts Shu up, his back leaning against the wall.

Roughly, Shouji helps Shu wrap his legs around his waist. That is all the foreplay they get; their patience is non-existing. Shouji pushes inside Shu's arse; there is no resistance, his cock slides in and it makes Shouji even more aroused to think of Shu spreading himself, making himself ready with oil and fingers; to think of how Shu had been sitting at the dining table, wet and open, only waiting for this...

'I am never going to beg you to stop,' Shu moans. His face is flushed, pleasure painted on it as Shouji invades his body. 'But if it is... oh.... oh...' Shu clutches at the fabric of Shouji's colourful shirt, 'If it's like this every time, I am going to beg you to go on.'

'Did you think of me when you fingered yourself?' Shouji asks, licking Shu's earlobe. 'Did you cry out my name when you forced your fingers inside yourself.'

'Mmm,' moans Shu. 'And when I jerked off this morning, and yesterday, and when I held Magira. Every awake moment I think of you fucking me.' Shu caresses Shouji's chest, nimble fingers pinch and pull his nipples.

Shouji bites down, leaving a bloody mark on Shu's slender neck. The slight taste of iron makes Shouji want to do it again; Shu's taste makes him crave for more, for any part of Shu he can have or take. Shu whimpers and stretches his neck, inviting Shouji to do as he likes. With a firm grip on Shu's hips, Shouji rams his cock so hard up Shu's arse that the pictures on the wall rattle and Shu lets out yet another pained moan as his back connects less than gently with the wall.

'Harder!' Shu demands. 'Is that all you can do? Are you anaemic or something? Fuck me like a real man!' he urges, in the most annoyingly provocative tone. His moans, however, contradict the tone; Shu is definitely enjoying himself.

Shouji gives up. The only thing that'll make Shu shut up is to do exactly that. No finesse, no caresses, just pure, hard fucking. Abandoning all sense, Shouji takes Shu as hard as he possibly can; over and over he thrusts into that arousing warmth, every trust accompanied by Shu's moans; moans that grow deeper, more unrestrained as Shu is coming nearer to his climax. Shouji is so encompassed by his task that it helps him hold back – he is not going to come until he has made Shu cry out in pleasure, not until that infuriating, annoying, absolutely wonderful idiot has reached his orgasm with Shouji's cock deep inside him.

'Shouji... oh, Shouji... so good!' Shu moves with Shouji, meeting his thrusts enthusiastically.

'More... more...' Shu's lips are wet and swollen from their violent kisses, and despite their difficulties to breathe, Shouji kisses Shu again and again, until the world seems blurry and it is painful to keep standing, keep fucking, keep taking the man he has fallen in lust and love with.

The realisation comes as a shock. There is no way Shouji can hold back what he feels, lost in the sensations of his body and heart. This is something he knew, but hadn't realised. He is in love with Shu. He is in love with the most irritating man on earth and there is nothing he can do about it other than what he is doing right now and will continue to do in the future if Shu allows him to. 'Shu... I...' Shouji cannot say it, he is in too deep, and the acceptance is hard to bear. Shouji is a hard, no-nonsense man; that this young, beautiful, aristocratic Chinese is going to be the bane of him is more than he can take. What cannot be said out loud he can show with his body. Shouji pulls Shu close, allowing them to move only little. Shu's erection is caught between their bodies as Shouji holds Shu tight, kissing him again, a deep, slow intimate kiss, exploring, marking what is his.

Shu replies with tongue and touches, hands are running up Shouji's back, over his shoulders, into his hair, as if Shu tries to map out every hard plane, every muscle, every inch of soft skin, of hard nipples and of the slightly stubbly cheeks. Shouji's thrusts become slow and deep, as if they are following Shu's ragged breath. The velvet moans that spill into Shouji's ears are the sweetest music he has ever heard.

Between them, Shu's pre-come is smeared over their stomachs. Shouji thrusts in, a little harder now. He lets go of Shu's mouth; he has to say it now, or he might lose his nerve, or worse, Shu. 'You are going back to Japan with me,' Shouji demands. 'You need someone to make sure you behave.' It doesn't really sound like I love you, Shu, but it's the closest Shouji can get.

'Shouji... Shouji,' Shu whispers, then tenses, hard-strung in Shouji's arms. 'I need you!' Shu cries and comes hard, in total abandon. Shouji has never seen anyone more beautiful than Shu in the throes of deep passion. With shallow, careful thrusts, Shouji brings himself to climax, his eyes set on Shu's relaxed, sweaty face. The orgasm is oddly peaceful, as if a dream of white light and pure sweetness embrace them both. Everything is silent, only their deep breaths mingle as they kiss, sharing this blissful moment.

'I'm in love with you,' Shouji finally says, whispering the words softly in Shu's ear. 'I don't want this to end here. I want you.'

'Our sorrow is bitter, but we would not return to our country. What flower has come into blossom?' Shu murmurs and kisses Shouji softly.

Shouji tilts his head. 'I pour out my heart for you and you... what is it that you do?' Shouji gives up. Shu is just in a league of his own.

'I recite Wen Wang's poem about returning from the Mongolian war.' Shu unwraps himself and tries to stand on slightly shaky legs. 'I should have known that anything but blunt, uneducated yakuza-speech would elude you.' Before Shouji can muster even the tiniest amount of anger, Shu embraces him. 'It means, my ignorant beloved, that I don't particularly want to leave Hong Kong for you, but that certain developments make it impossible for me to decline your request.'

'Must you?' Shouji groans, trying to make sense of what Shu is saying. 'You are so incredibly secure in your belief of your own superiority.' Oh damned, how he loves Shu, despite their differences.

'I must. But since I am in love with you as well, I assume you'll forgive me? After having taken your particular arousing revenge, of course?'

'Oh, thank gods,' Shouji sighs, and carries Shu to bed.

They have yet more heavens they need to visit before morning comes.



The roar of jet engines makes it impossible to hear anything as a plane takes off in the direction of god knows where. It is as if the air is shimmering with heat and noise, and Iwaki is longing to get back to Tokyo, to the relative peace and quiet in their own small house. At least small compared to the grand luxury that Carlo-san and Magira-kun is living in. Iwaki doesn't envy them, though. He was never one for this kind of flashy wealth; all Iwaki cares about is that Katou and he have a place that is theirs; somewhere they can go and reload after their work and other obligations are done.

Magira and Katou are building a small tower of suitcases on a trolley. Iwaki, Katou and Sawa are going to Tokyo and are leaving first; Shu is taking Ethan (who still is a bit confused. He is able to, though, to understand his immense luck, that they are going to help him to get out of the mess he has started) to Hong Kong. Shouji has pulled a few strings (encouraging Shu to tease him more about the tattooed brothers) and has found work for Ethan at a place where no one cares to ask about his past.

Katou pushes the trolley towards the airport terminal. The sun is burning, they all want to get inside, to the blessed air-conditioned cool atmosphere in the departure lounge. The summer holidays are over, and the airport is not as crowded as usual. Ethan and Magira let themselves fall behind a bit. Iwaki sends Magira a questioning look. He just nods, acknowledging the concern. The two young men seem caught up in deep conversation. Iwaki's guess is that Mr Hughes is busy apologising and begging for forgiveness. Knowing Magira, Iwaki's guess is that it will take a while before Mr Hughes gets it.

Their luggage has been checked in, and the travellers are ready to go. There are no teary-eyed goodbyes, no promises or gifts exchanged. It is not necessary. What they have gone through has formed a brotherhood between them: unsaid is the vow that none of the men will ever ask in vain for help from the others.

'I think I might write a book,' Sawa muses, turning a pen between his fingers. 'This could end up a nice crime novel.'

'With a lot of sex in, seeing that your usual fare is slightly on the erotic side,' Carlo teases. 'Let me guess. The former police officer and heroine will be doing it a lot with one of the younger detectives?'

'Carlo-san!' Sawa exclaims, 'Really! I am a married woman, or as good as!' He pauses. 'I admit that I did flirt a bit with Mr Williams, but...' Sawa smiles, maybe lost in the thought of Yukihito.

Shu laughs, patting Sawa's shoulder. 'Young love, eh?'

'Look who's talking,' Sawa grins as Shu raises on tip-toes and unceremoniously and without any regards to decent behaviour kisses Shouji goodbye.

'A week from now, in Tokyo,' Shu says, clearly not wanting to let go of his lover. Shouji has chosen to stay a bit longer with Magira and Carlo before he goes home. There are still practical things that need to be done, and legal complications that have to be sorted out.

'You better be there, or you won't like what I'll do to you if I have to fetch you,' Shouji sneers, unable to keep a look of utter love off his face.

'I look so much forward to be presented to your yakuza friends,' Shu says coolly and flees towards the security, leaving Shouji to throw up his hand in the air and laugh.

'My condolences,' Katou says. 'Some men can be horribly taxing until they are tamed and broken in.' The smile he sends Iwaki to fend off any temper tantrums is not entirely innocent.

Iwaki thinks that Carlo and he might be the only grown up persons left in the world. 'We better go. Security might take time,' he says, ignoring his lover's immaturity.

'Goodbye, my friend.' Carlo and Iwaki shakes hands. Somehow they have always understood each other. Two serious men being riddled with reckless young lovers... They share a destiny that is both heaven and hell. Mostly heaven, when all comes to all.
Mostly heaven.



Epilogue

Iwaki is having a wonderful dream. He is laying in his bed, relaxed and warm while Katou is kissing him; slowly licking his way down Iwaki's neck, kissing his collarbone's curved bow, spending time exploring the width between nipples and breastbone. Iwaki moans in his dream as his back slides into an elegant arch, leaving room enough between mattress and the warm skin to create a fitting cave for Katou's strong hand to rest in.

The bed is warm, contrasting the winter's cold slight dusting of snow—a mocking imitation of spring's falling sakura leaves. Katou's tongue draws patterns on Iwaki's stomach, dangerously close to his penis, stirring and reaching for Katou's mouth that is so close... so close...
Iwaki stretches and can't stop himself from thrusting upwards, into that wet, silken mouth. No woman has ever made him feel like this. The arousal makes Iwaki shake off the dream and wake up; the bedroom is still winter-grey, no sun has yet penetrated the snow-laden clouds. 'Mmm, feels good,' Iwaki moans. It has not yet occurred to him that the dream is somewhat more vivid than dreams usually are.

'My Iwaki-san is finally awake?' Katou murmurs, his voice muffled by the heavy duvet. His fingers dance down the long line of Iwaki's lean thigh, caresses his knees, teasing that spot behind them that is so awfully sensitive. He sucks one ball into his mouth, grazing the skin with his teeth, precisely like Iwaki wants it.

Moaning loudly because he cannot stop himself, Iwaki gives up. This attack on his non-existing virtue is too good, too advanced for him to care to stop it. 'Katou... ' Iwaki buries his hands in Katou's hair, letting the soft strands slither through his fingers. The world is soft... Katou's soft tongue, the heavy duvet, the dim morning light. Iwaki sighs happily and relaxes—as much as he is able to when Katou is sucking him off so masterly.

Pausing, Katou wets his fingers. 'Don't do anything,' he orders. 'I just want Iwaki to enjoy.'
All resistance has been erased as Katou sits on his knees, spreading Iwaki's legs. 'I'll wait until tonight,' Katou promises, massaging Iwaki's opening. 'Tonight I'll take you.'

The pressure as Katou pushes his fingers inside is only adding to Iwaki's dreamlike state. It is so good, so very good. Small, measured movements drive Katou's fingers further in, until his fingertips rub over Iwaki's prostate. Iwaki cannot stop himself from spreading his legs further, invitingly. Tonight? What is Katou going on about? Iwaki wants his lover inside him now, instantly!

Iwaki reaches for Katou's erection. it is standing proudly, and Iwaki knows that Katou isn't able to wait. Not if he decides to seduce his lover. It happens rarely, but Katou cannot stand against Iwaki's love attack. He never can. Weighing Katou's well-shaped bollocks in his hand, Iwaki licks his lips. His expression is lewd and innocent at the same time. 'You are so wet already,' Iwaki purrs and smears Katou's pre-come over the tip of the hard cock. 'Why wait?'

'Because I wanted Iwaki-san to be able to immerse himself in pleasure,' Katou pouts and curl the fingers inside Iwaki's tightness.

Iwaki lets out a small cry as arousal flares through his body. He has to take a few deep breaths before he can speak. 'And the greatest pleasure,' he asks, 'isn't that to feel Katou... Katou's body... inside.. me?'

'No one is cuter than Iwaki-san! How can I possibly deny him what he wants when he is like this?' Katou pulls out his fingers and slides on top of Iwaki. 'Spread your legs, then. Show me that you want me enough to seduce me, Iwaki-san!'

Forgetting that he has to be at the office early, Iwaki raises his legs, spreading his buttocks for Katou. This lovely dream... he cannot let go of it, despite the fact that they are both awake. It is good to just let things flow, to let Katou take and give, to let him play as he likes. Iwaki belongs to Katou, his body is Katou's to use. 'I love you, Katou,' he manages, gasping as Katou slides his erection inside.

Pleasure. Calm, slow, soft pleasure. Buried deep in Iwaki's body, massaging his cock, Katou guides them both towards the inevitable climax. It rolls over them as would the sun rise on the sky, blinding, clear pleasure created by the morning and their bodies. With a leg still thrown over Katou's back, Iwaki lies spent and ready to slip back into the sleep he seems never really to have left. Lazily, he lifts a hand to brush Katou's hair away from his face. 'I think I'd like mornings better if I was to be woken up like this more often,' he murmurs sleepily.

Surprisingly, Katou is wide awake. 'Sleep a little longer,' he offers and kisses Iwaki on the cheek. 'I'll make breakfast.'

Iwaki rests as Katou showers and dresses before he goes downstairs. There are muted sounds of running water and plates being taken out of cupboards. The appetising smell of freshly brewed coffee blends with the sharper scent of miso. Iwaki lies there, arms under his head, and considers if this is the ultimate happiness... if there is anything that is more satisfying than making love, then listening to one's husband as he potters around in the kitchen, making their breakfast. Iwaki doesn't think so. He loves this quiet domesticity.

As Iwaki finally gets downstairs, Katou seems to be in a brilliant mood. 'The mail arrived,' Katou informs and hands Iwaki a cream-coloured envelope. It has been opened already, and the content has definitely not ruined Katou's good mood but added to it.
Iwaki pulls out the small card and reads the first few lines.

Magira Yuri
and
Anthony Monte Carlo
request the pleasure of your company at their wedding party...

Iwaki laughs. Outside the sun is clear and blue and the day is perfect. Perfect! It has been a long journey for Carlo and Magira to find the happiness they wanted, and now they have it; the hardships they have endured have matured them, polished their edges; rough diamonds finally ready to let themselves set in precious metal to shine, to show what they really are worth. 'Do you think this is what heaven is really like?' he asks Katou and reaches for his lover.

'Mmm,' Katou says and smiles, his lips close to Iwaki's. 'I know so. Heaven is precisely where my Iwaki-san is.'



- 0 -



Ah, done! This fic was originally meant to be 5K of light smut, but... well... see how that went. Next project, apart from a few one-shots, is a novel-length fic for _lore who has wished for an Iwaki/Katou, Snape/Lupin AU. So if you want to know what happens when Iwaki is sent to Manchester to film and ends up in Snape's terraced dump, or if Katou and Remus really are alike...

And btw... Yes... you'll get to know what happened to Ethan in another fic.
Thanks for keeping me company, and for your nice comments and support. It has been a pleasure.