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"I suggest you remove your finger from the trigger, and your eye from the scope, darling."
Hijirikawa Masato's eyes narrowed, having been caught unawares by the man who now stood behind him with a gun pressed to his temple. Internally, he cursed himself for being too focused on his target that he'd forgotten to take notice of his surroundings. His pride wanted to refuse, but his life was at risk, and if he wanted to get out alive he had to do what the other said. Removing his finger from the trigger and the his eye from the scope as asked, Masato continued to glare into the darkness of the night.
"Good boy," Came the condescending voice, and Masato wanted nothing more than to punch the owner of it. He already knew who it belonged to, from the smooth baritone to the lilting way he spoke, teasing, taunting, no matter who the other party was. "Now turn, slowly, or the bullet enters your brain."
Taking a deep breath to steel himself - he was a calm man by nature, but when dealing with this particular man, he wasn't liable for his actions - and turned. On the final quarter, Masato ducked down, removing his head from the aim of the barrel of the gun, bringing his leg up to meet his would-be assassin's head - if it were still there.
There was a shot, but Masato didn't flinch at the sound, hand immediately moving to the holster on his upper thigh and grabbing his gun, unlocking the safety and pointing it at the other man.
"Ah, Mai-san?" Jinguji Ren asked, amused, one hand on the gun and the other on his hip, standing as though he were a model and this was a photo shoot, and that the gun Masato was pointing at him were a camera instead. "I was told Masato would be the one here tonight," He continued, smirking. The glint in his eyes - arrogant and sure of himself - told Masato that Ren was playing the fool again, and it irked him.
Not deigning to answer, the heir to the Hijirikawa Association fired, as did the blond, and they both started to dance around each other, the shots they fired ringing in their ears and off the buildings, echo upon echo of their rivalry like music, the dodging of each other's ammunition like a choreographed dance. It wasn't until Ren stopped firing that Masato stop moving, the both of them coming to a standstill.
"Out of ammunition, aren't you, Jinguji?"
A normal man in Ren's situation would be cautious, nervous, terrified, even, but Ren felt none of those. If anything, his grin turned into a smirk. "You can tell?"
Masato shot him a look, "You're holding onto a .22 caliber Black Widow. The cylinder, if you didn't change it, can hold 5 bullets. You shot 1 in the beginning, and 4 more mutually. You're out."
A pleased chuckled rumbled from Ren's chest, and he tilted his head to the right. "True," He conceded in his infuriating way, "But you, dear Masayan, have in your hands a .22 caliber Mini Master, which also has a 5 bullet cylinder. You only have 1 bullet left, which you know I can dodge, easily."
"Be that as it may," Masato replied, "The Black Widow has a drop out cylinder, while my own has a swing out one. I'd be able to reload faster than you'd be able to."
"Assuming you have the bullets," Ren laughed, gesturing with his gun to the sniper rifle still positioned at the side. "You didn't bring a ten thousand dollar PSG-1 here just to use your handgun, did you? And you even dressed up to this extent..."
If Masato saw the roaming eyes - which he did - he gave no reaction whatsoever. Jinguji Ren was a playboy from head to toe, and Masato had been on the receiving end more than once. "My dressing has nothing to do with this."
"Doesn't it?" Ren's voice smoothed over his skin like the leather he was clad in, soft and deliciously sinful. "Did you dress up for me, Masato?"
"Dream on."
A perfectly arched brow raised on Ren's face, the blond quickly moving diagonally from where he was to Masato's position, disarming him with one swift kick of his impossibly long legs, and pressing the blue haired assassin up against the wall behind him. "And if I do? Will you let me?"
Masato tilted his head up to glare at Ren, his eyes sharp and laced with anger. "You already know the answer to that."
The breath that was huffed onto his lips has Masato seething, for more reasons than one. "Of course I do," Ren murmured, then leaned forward to press his lips to Masato's, hard and bruising.
There was struggle. Of course there was, Ren mused, Masato's pride wouldn't let him get away without any defense against Ren. The blond let his fingers wander, teasing the small of Masato's back, tickling his sides and placing kisses on Masato's neck, soft, gentle ones and sloppy, possessive ones, until Masato was whimpering, leaning his head back into the wall and boneless.
"Did you dress up for me, Masato?" Ren asked, again, words a murmured tattoo against Masato's high cheekbones.
He received a gasp for an answer, but it was answer enough for him. He pulled back, eyes quickly, greedily, taking in the sight of Masato that was presented to him. Blue strands falling haphazardly over his eyes, head tilted back and cheeks flushed, clad in leather, back exposed and skirt above his knees, ending mid thigh. His wig, the same colour as his own hair, cascaded down the exposed area of his skin, giving the image of innocent provocation.
"Should I be honoured?"
Masato glared again, but then he always seemed to be doing that, and swung his body up, using his center of gravity as leverage. Ren had to lean back to avoid his head from slamming into Masato's, and that small space was all Masato needed. Quickly sliding out, Masato ran, leaving his rifle - he could always come back later for it, if Ren hadn't destroyed it, and even if it had, Masato could afford more than he needed - and stood at the edge of the building, back towards the road below him.
Then he fell.
Ren, who had, by then, rest his weight comfortably against the wall he had pressed Masato to just moments before, waved his lover off with a quick wave and a wink. He sighed, running a hand through his hair, before walking to the edge where Masato had fell to see nothing except the passers-by below, and pouted a little.
"You're so cruel, Masato."