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He was to play dumb if things went south, but it was not a choice he made; they had laughed and cajoled each other on receiving the missive, the other riding shotgun because he was antisocial and mean looking, seemingly always ready for a fight, while he himself would rat inside and nibble away at any information he could get his paws on. Playing dumb, however, was scoffed at; “I won’t be caught.”
“Actually,” the dark skinned agent pondered, “Please do. Then I’ll truly have some work to do.” Sitting in a nondescript dark van with machines buzzing day in and day out was not what Agent Aomine signed up for, and he would be damned if the other redhead got to infiltrate hideouts more often than not. Just because the other was multilingual. Stupid foreigner.
Agent Taiga Kagami, dressed in his mission specs of black cargo pants bound into shin-length military boots with a thick rubbed sole that added an inch to his height and a black semi-dry fit, long sleeves black t-shirt. As the partners followed their handler for the mission, a man with a deep scowl on his face and severely shorter than both men, Taiga strapped on his gloves. Their handler, Special Agent Yukio Kasamatsu, stood at the armoury’s security lockers with the officer on duty, giving the mousey man instructions for their mission necessities, at the same time briefing them about what was allowed and what was not allowed to be done. “Denting the van is not allowed. Shooting at friendlies is not allowed.” Kasamatsu paused. “Unless it is an annoying person, but that can be discussed prior to shooting. Oh, and getting caught is not allowed.” He glared at both men, words dropping with the threat of absolute doom (and they knew it was possible), “If something like that happens, don’t worry; I’ll come and crush you.”
Taiga tried to ignore the clenching in his stomach at the words. For a small man like Kasamatsu, he was pretty straightforward and honest, and brutal. He could honestly see why the man was chosen as their handler for high-profile cases besides his hard-working persona. On the other hand… Taiga glanced at the slouching Aomine, now totally bored at the string of commands they were receiving. Instead the man focused on the shivering armoury guard, who looked three sheets to the wind.
“Ryō,” Aomine spoke, and Taiga watched as the guard stiffened even more than before. This time, however, he bowed multiple times with a thread of apologies impeccably flowing like water with each bob of his head. “Do you have that Browning I gave you last week? Is it fixed yet?” And in front of their eyes they saw Officer Ryō Sakurai transform into an adept, confident man rattling about how well the said shotgun was as he brought the item forward to a sparkly-eyed Aomine.
Firmly ignoring the sudden changes in personalities (and worried that even Kasamatsu would do a one-eighty), Taiga concentrated on the mission on hand. In his head, he ran through all the points of access he would have to make use of, keeping in mind each exit for each new section he was at so that there was a safe retreat at every turn. He also did not want to trample on his ego as needing assistance from Aomine—who was a promotion away from being a Special Agent—would literally send him flying off a skyscraper. Even Tokyo Tower sounded nice at this time of the year.
“C’mon,” Kasamatsu’s voice broke through his prep talk, and shrugging off the insecurities, he told himself, “Everything’s going to be alright.”
***
Everything, he realised a few hours later, was not going to be alright.
In fact, he was surprised he even got past the security guards on their maintenance level with the way he was swarmed from all sides twenty seconds from passing them, men with a bastardised version of army fatigues to match the company’s décor, and trotting AK-12s like it was lumber. Taiga could have easily incapacitated them—and had done the first small wave that came to apprehend them—before a man with a winsome attitude and bright, charming smile, made him stop. Even the gasp in his earpiece made him twitch.
“…tell him to twirl around once; I want to see his ass,” came the demand. Taiga scoffed, even as the blond man before him started to sprout words he knows he should pay attention to, but the commentary on the other end of his communications piece was distracting.
“Tell him yourself,” was all he got out of his mouth before in a split second, he found himself flat on his front, face being held to the floor by his head, strong fingers that had looked delicate clenching an unforgiving fist through his black beanie to his hair. “If I die, I’ll come to haunt you. Over and out,” and understanding, Taiga heard the chortle before a long stream of a lost connection was heard.
***
"Sorry about that," the blond had said, dragging the chair he arrived with into the cell and close to the bed. Or what passed as an acceptable bed to these lowlifes. "We had to take your clothes and shoes, and check your teeth and inside your cheek skin, you know, for security measures." The man shrugged gracefully. "You've probably seen Naruto: The Movie, right? Not Shippuuden or anything, but like, the first ever movie? Yea, so like, Naruto got out by way of a hidden lock pick or file or some ninja tool, and ever since the boss saw it while his brat was watching the movie, he's been a little paranoid." He shrugged again.
In the whole explanation, all Taiga did was curse and groan at the injustice of being handcuffed to the cold and unwelcoming rail of the bed, his hard muscular body chafing above the rough texture of the cheap sheet covering the paper-thin mattress. He did not mind being stark naked—they were trained to withstand much of the known torture techniques around the world, and some newly thought of nifty ones as well—being naked was nothing. Being cuffed naked before a man he thought was beautiful just minutes ago, who pinned him down, and could not stop blabbering…that was something else entirely.
“So,” the word was dragged, almost sung as the man crossed his legs at the knees exuding confidence and authority over Taiga, “What should I call you?” one fine-looking index finger tapped the protruding muscles on his abdomen. “Big, hot, gorgeous male?”
“Male would do,” he humoured, “But I’m not stopping you from speaking with more adjectives.” Taiga grinned, wondering what course of action he should take from here. There had been escape options detailed in the briefing, but he might have not paid much attention to the ones that described his current predicament, and honestly, from where he lay being subjugated to finger torture, was not that bad. In all actuality, if he was not let out of his cuffs at least once, Aomine would be required to show his face, preferably on the other side of the cell with its door open, dangling a set of keys to his cuffs and a vicious smirk on his face. The thought was a far cry from him wanting to jump off Tokyo Tower, but…
“My name’s Kise,” the man was saying, which caught Taiga’s attention. “I’m the head of Security over here, and usually, we don’t get many trespassers.” Kise leaned over his folded legs, eyes sparkling, “But the minute I saw you, I just had to let you pass, you know?” the way he spoke grated at his nerves, still not fully used to speaking, listening, reading and writing Japanese, though Taiga was watching Kise’s lips move sensually over the words. “Looking so delicious in all that black, contrasting against this sinful package, hnn,” Kise made a noise that was a cross between a purr and a hunger pang, “I just knew you’d look good bound on this bed.”
Okay, so Kise was a pervert, but when was any other interesting person Taiga met in his life not a pervert? Even his mentor, someone he thought he could look up to as a mother, strutted around his bachelor loft like a stripper allergic to clothes, kissing anyone she liked (him included).
“I’d say the same but I’m having a little problem imagining it. Maybe you could get on top here, see you in a better position and then change my mind?” Taiga asked, jerking his hips to emphasise where he wanted Kise to sit. “I can’t be the only one receiving praise, don’t you agree?”
“Oh?” Kise asked, rearing his slender neck back in interest, “My, isn’t that nice of you… Why don’t you lend me a hand and I’ll get right to it?” grinning, Taiga clanged his right hand’s cuff.
“Sorry about that, unless you want to help me?”
Kise pouted. “Oh, that’s right, you’re indisposed, I wonder why?” He leaned forward onto his feet this time, placing his cool palms over Taiga’s heated pecks, running them smoothly over the surface and up to his shoulders, applying pressure as Kise neared closer to his hands. “I can help you with that,” he smirked, licking his lower lip to leave a reflective sheen on the protruding flesh, and mesmerised, did not pay attention when Kise grabbed his forearm too tightly and yanked on it past its tolerance in the wrong direction.
Taiga, in that brief moment, bit his tongue at the rather excruciating pain that shot up his arm to his right shoulder, pulsating as if being burned and he was unable to do anything about it. Tears gathered in his eyes as he tried to distance himself from the pain. The grinning minx dislocated it.
"Ah, don't do that, you'll make it worse for your shoulder," the man kept on, reaching forward to pat the awkward looking joint. Soothing the area with careful strokes, he leaned into Taiga's personal space—not like it was that hard anymore—and murmured against clammy skin: "I can take your mind off it, if you'd like..."
Taiga tried to keep his breath steady and his eyes open despite the pain nibbling on his consciousness, just the same way the man calling himself Kise was doing to his earlobe. Tears of pain escaped their confines at the initial onset of pain though Taiga refused to let it control him. He was stronger than this and he would prove it by holding on until Aomine or some other agent (please let it not be Kasamatsu-sempai like a mantra the words repeated in his pain-muddled mind) came to get him out.
The blond, however, was trying his slowly eroding patience. Slithering up like a beautiful snake ensnaring its prey, hooded amber eyes gleamed through thick lashes, voice dropping to a husky note. “Call me Ryouta,” he murmured onto his lips as he reached for his face, coaxing the redhead in extreme pain and pleasure to heed his command. Soft, almost petulant kisses were placed on his lips. “You can do it, come on.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Taiga groused, clenching his teeth. “Can’t really think and pronounce all these difficult words if you’re hurting me, you know.”
Ryouta laughed, clamping down on the shoulder even more, “Come now, how can I let you go? Your pain filled voice sounds so alluring.”
“You know,” Taiga gasped out, “what would sound even better?” Ryouta stared through his lower lashes at red eyes, “You panting for release when you ride me.”
Ryouta growled, squeezing the out of place joint, but all Taiga did was grind his teeth together, eyebrows furrowed, and eyes staring dead straight at him. He decided on another approach. Quickly shedding the last breach in his defence, Ryouta splayed himself as he darted a quick hand to the exposed member surrounded by soft-looking red curls. Patting it down and away, Ryouta observed the heated protruding flesh in all its glory, and commended on the man not allowing all his blood to pool down there. Thinking that it would not be long, he palmed it, coaxing it to life.
Taiga concentrated on his pain more than the pleasure being administered to him in the form of first aid. It was easier than he thought, tilting onto his back to apply undue pressure on the shoulder, knowing he was worsening his condition concurrently trying to think of all possible scenarios wherein he would not be turned on—Aomine watching him (he stayed limp, thank God, he thought to himself)—until his captor started using his mouth, and dear God above he needed new material to stop himself from pounding that sweet hot mouth mewling around his penis. It seemed a day had come when Taiga cursed himself for not having more turns-one-off disturbing moments besides Daiki’s crass recounts of his ex-girlfriend; that woman might have looked demure and could have been named the next Yamato Nadeshiko of Japan, but the minute the partners had seen her perform on the stage of a stripper’s joint, they could never not see what they saw. Daiki still could not look at fake boas or in his next lifetime either. (It was also probably the same time that all women turned him off, but Taiga digresses.)
Ryouta, on the other head, was starting to fret; the redhead was a wilful one and no matter what he did—and did Ryouta have skills street hookers would be jealous of—nothing worked. Fondling his balls next caused some reaction, but every time there was a twitch up, there would be a twitch down. Annoyed, and severely insulted, Ryouta gripped just under the tip, watching the man turn as red as his hair. It was not a pretty sight, unfortunately, but he had work to do. Gone was the idea that he was supposed to extract information out of the other.
Staring at the blurring ceiling, Taiga thought of the ways he could get his mind off the workout he was receiving on his lower body. They were appendages he hardly used (most girls flocked to his friends and even Daiki had more opportunities than he did, no matter how horribly the dark skinned male treated those females), but at the moment, it felt like they were doing more reps than he did at a sitting in the gym. So he concentrated every cell in his brain to breathe more steadily. Then he spoke, “I guess my package only works when it knows what it’s getting into.” He prayed that worked and not got him raped in an opposite effect.
But Ryouta was a receiver, not a pitcher. He enjoyed every bit of his orgasm when bottoming since it felt like a whole body workout. The only ones he would pitch to were women since they were convenient, having self-lubricated holes when in emergencies, and when he was desperate. Now, however, his desperation was different, wanting to show his prowess and determination to not give up. He knew there was something else he ought to do but foremost it was his honour and pride that he had to regain.
Taiga had no such delusions which was what made it easier for him to goad the blond into answering his questions that, distracted by trying to work his member, he answered each question without thought or reason, going so far to confirm that there was really no information he could reap from this dummy company, and Taiga relaxed completely, giving into the insistent manhandling of his bits. Crying out in success, Ryouta started to prepare himself after working his body up. He was not stopped by any outside force as, grinning sultrily, he nudged himself down on Taiga’s penis, groaning as he forced it to hit all the right angles on its first ascend.
All Taiga did was stare.
***
The stomping footfalls stopped just outside his cell, but he could not stop the gyrating wave he was surfing at precisely that moment (and the worse Ryouta would be reprimanded with was a severe talking down to, and that was easy to deal with), so gripping the captive's flanks tightly, he bounced until his orgasm was near unbearable, before he released one hand to help him ejaculate to completion. Spurting out white hot spunk onto the washboard abs, Ryouta panted harshly as he tried to calm his pounding heart. Glancing over his shoulder at who could only be a useless scion, he rolled his hips a few more times before the large grin and hooded blue eyes he did not recognise faced him in a casual leaning stance.
"Oh, please, don't mind me; do continue," he said, tone of voice seeming to be just on this side of sin. It sent shivers down his exposed spine, and shamelessly, his body reacted, presenting the bound redhead with an encore of his full glory.
A snort followed this statement, however, and as the body he was just milliseconds ago riding like a sex-crazed Duracell bunny shifted under him, the uncomfortable feeling of the man's penis becoming flaccid in him, spurred him into reality.
"Who the hell are you?!" He growled out, trying to maintain a vicious glare despite being completely naked and still sporting a hard on. "Where did you come from?"
The newly arrived interloper smirked, moving most of his body weight onto the bars of the cell, resting his forehead on the arm looking comfortable draped on the metal. "Hmm, I don't know if I should tell someone like you; flashing me on your first impression is going to hurt our future relationship, you know?" He tilted his head to stare past him. "What do you think, Kagami? Should I answer?"
Taiga laughed, unabashed at his current state of dress—or lack thereof—in front of this new man, jerking his hips so that Ryouta struggled to not fall on his face gracelessly. “Save it, just get me out of here.”
“No one’s getting anywhere,” the blond snarled, pretty features morphed into an angry contort, but the change just made him look…adorable. Taiga turned to face Aomine.
“Yea, ignore him. I need to get up now, it’s so fucking uncomfortable.” He winced when Ryouta snaggled his dislocated arm as he moved to stand on his two feet, unashamed of the release of Taiga’s ejaculation down his thigh. Well, at least there was one less thing Aomine could have eaten into him for; he was technically the top in this pairing. Thankful for small graces, Taiga watched how Aomine brazenly drank in the sight of Kise, and then turning his head to Taiga, whistled at him too.
“Pick of the day, it seems…”
“You fucker…” he growled low in his chest. “Just get me out now. I’m sure he won’t be too hard for you.” Aomine glanced at Ryouta.
“Looks pretty hard to me,” but not digressing further, Aomine leaped into the cell, gripped Ryouta’s neck in a chokehold, turning the man into his arms as he secured him against his chest. Surprised at the lightning fast attack, Ryouta sputtered unattractively, scrambling to claw the tightly muscled hold over his delicate neck off. “You look even more pretty from up close.” Taking a chance, he sidled his right hand down to Ryouta’s groin and commented, “And this is pretty hard still.”
Ryouta gasped, shocked.
“Oi asshole,” Taiga called out from behind them. “Remember me?”
“Yea, yea,” Aomine conceded, strategically moving his captive to the lone chair of the cell, shoving him down on the hard cold surface, eliciting a sharp cry of pain, reached into his carryon for his handcuffs. Gingerly making sure that the man was unable to move after he had incapacitated him (Ryouta had tried a crotch shot manoeuver that Aomine had laughed at until Taiga aimed from behind for taking too long), and hurried along to his injured partner. The minute he had freed the cuffed redhead, the lights in and surrounding the cell flooded.
“What the fuck were you all thinking?!” came the roar so familiar, that everyone cringed. Even Ryouta managed to scrunch his shoulders up to his ears at the holler. “Aomine! The fuck did you think you were doing?!”
“Eh? I didn’t do anything that I wasn’t supposed to, Kasamatsu-sempai,” came the bored reply. Aomine looked behind him at the shorter man, fuming from outside the open cell. “And what’s going on?”
“What’s going on?” Kasamatsu asked in a quiet timbre, eyes darkening in anger. “Did you not file for a position hike, you bastard?”
Aomine’s right eyebrow rose high on his forehead. “…Was this all for me?” he looked at the still cuffed blond, grinning suddenly at the thought. “You shouldn’t have. His number would have been just fine.”
A wordless noise close to a starved beast being frustrated at watching his prey go, promising to be even more vicious for his next meal, came out of Kasamatsu.
“Sempai,” Ryouta called out, shocking the other two in the cell with him. “Please hurry and let me go. This is embarrassing.”
“Embarrassing?” Taiga wanted to know how in the past half hour did not embarrass the other male.
“Embarrassing?” Kasamatsu snapped instead. “Stop spouting nonsense, I’ll kick you!” and he leaped to smack the blond a couple of times on his face.
“No!! Sempai, not the face!” the blond shed tears. “And you already hit me.” Kasamatsu slapped him a few more times, venting.
“You were in on it, but despite knowing that we were watching you, you…you-!” he could not even pronounce the words he wanted to scream at the man, so he snapped what little patience he had left by kicking the seated male on the thigh. “You’re on suspension when you get dressed, Kise!” He shook his head in disbelief at what he was going through on something that was supposed to be a promotion operation; there was not supposed to be a captive, nor was there supposed to be any sexual torture, or an operative needing rescuing. They were in the snatch and retrieve department, for God’s sake. Add to that… “You’re a fucking Special Agent already, fucking Kise. Act like it!”
“So…” Aomine hedged, not moving closer to his handler if there was no need, “Do I get that promotion or not?”
Kasamatsu snapped.
***
Agent Moriyama was perusing the department floor, watching the new female recruits closely as he multitasked in making coffee for him and his companion. Kasamatsu looked to be having a headache, so he refrained from asking if the one sitting in section C near the water cooler or the one sitting diagonal from her in section G was prettier, instead placing the freshly brewed drink before him. Kasamatsu sighed out a thank you and cautiously sipped the coffee, all the while doing his own perusal of the department floor.
“And then what happened?” Moriyama asked, showing the proper amount of interest despite guys not being his ‘thing’.
“What do you mean ‘what happened’?” Kasamatsu asked, incredulously, “Kise is suspended for two weeks and will be retrained for the next two months, and Aomine did not get that promotion he so wanted.” He sighed, again, causing Moriyama to turn all his attention to him this time. It was the fourth sigh in the five minutes they had been in the pantry and no matter what anybody said, it was dangerous to be left alone with Kasamatsu when he was in one of his moods.
“But…?”
Kasamatsu scowled. “They promoted Kagami instead.”
Moriyama sprayed out the sip he was taking on the wall beside him. Dabbing his lips (and his face in case he was messier than he thought), agape, he repeated in confusion, “Promoted Kagami?” The other male nodded. “But wasn’t he the one who was caught, cuffed and sexually assau- I mean, tortured?” Again, a nod. “How does that work?!”
“Because he showed all the characteristics of an agent who acted responsible, did not give any details, performed well under duress, and even made the captor lose control, in all senses of the word.” Kasamatsu grimaced.
Moriyama, feeling his pain, joined in as well. “I hope this doesn’t get out,” he said, carrying his drink out of the pantry and to his desk. “Otherwise everyone will think you had to be laid to get up,” he smirked at his own joke, moving away quickly before Kasamatsu registered it.
“Hey, Yukio,” said man turned around to find a narrow-eyed, dark haired bespectacled male walking up to him, waving a folder in his hand. “Heard about Kagami’s promotion.” Kasamatsu shivered, almost dreading the next words out of the creepy man’s mouth, “So when are you going to try it with me? I can already picture your new window office from over here.”
Kasamatsu was going to kill Kise before he gets back.