Posted originally on the Archive_of_Our_Own at https://archiveofourown.org/
works/3383345.
  Rating:
      Explicit
  Archive Warning:
      Underage
  Category:
      M/M
  Fandom:
      Rurouni_Kenshin
  Relationship:
      Sagara_Sanosuke/Saitou_Hajime
  Character:
      Sagara_Sanosuke, Saitou_Hajime
  Additional Tags:
      Angst_with_a_Happy_Ending, Angst, Prequel, Vaguely_AU, same_setting_as
      series_but_not_part_of_it
  Stats:
      Published: 2015-02-18 Chapters: 2/? Words: 5988
****** Lie to Me ******
by NuwandaSnicket
Summary
     An ornery, solitary officer finally meets his match: a loud mouthed
     17 year old who simply refuses to be ignored. A strange relationship
     begins, but secrets can never stay hidden long.
Notes
     This is supposed to be set two years before the manga. Same
     characters, different circumstances.
***** Chapter 1 *****
Saito Hajime pushed open the teahouse door and paused momentarily, allowing
himself a rare moment of relaxation, the wind rifling his hair as much as it
could in his tightly controlled ponytail, a gentle breeze that carried on it
the scent of summer, ocean, and for some inexplicable reason, a hint of
promise.
Saito glowered. He didn’t like this turning philosophical, and to be honest, he
couldn’t afford it. Not at his age and not in his line of work. He paused only
a moment longer, just to pull the silver cigarette case out of his back pocket,
though he really didn’t need to…by now he could light a cigarette in his sleep.
No doubt he would die of emphysema, or so his doctor claimed. The old codger
was always insisting he quit, while Saito sat there silently steaming and
telling himself that shoving a katana up the man’s rectum would be in very bad
form indeed. Really though, he found it highly ulikely…it seemed much more
probable he would die in a ditch somewhere, throat slit, knife in his back and
bleeding from multiple wounds. If they could ever get him. He prayed they
would. For as much as Saito hated to admit it, on some level, he rather hoped
someday he would find someone who could best him. He hated the idea of dying
old and alone in bed, no hair, no teeth, shaking with palsy and a cold sweat.
 
Taking a deep drag on the cigarette (almost as refreshing as the night air, if
not more so), Saito stepped off the porch. He didn’t bother shutting the door
behind him…that was what other people did, and sure enough, a bowing mistress
closed the door for him, murmuring her thanks and goodbyes all the way. Saito
hated her, for no real reason other than her pathetic groveling. He would have
hated her if she hadn’t shown her respects either. It was a very thin line with
Saito Hajime, a tightrope one had to walk or die trying. Most died.
Saito walked down the road, still sucking at that cigarette like it was
precious life-force given by God. It was a warm night…too warm, for his liking.
There had been geishas in that teahouse, swarms of geishas, crawling all over
his Goddamned lap; each and every one of them hoping that with his position and
power, he could afford to become danna to one of them. Which he could. The real
point was that the day he attached himself to one of those money-grubbing
harlots was the day he started buggering young boys.
That damn breeze floated past again, bringing paradox with it. It was the only
thing cooling in this night…this damn humid night that made Saito want to tug
at his too-tight collar…or worse, remove his uniform jacket all together (SHEER
BLASPHEMY!). On the other hand, the breeze still carried with it that scent of
promise, so Saito knew he wasn’t just turning into a doddering old metaphorical
philosopher, some crazy Aristotle or Socrates. Saito Hajime had been around
long enough to read the winds. Something, he realized, is coming.
Saito managed to ignore the feeling…almost. For feeling such as this will never
go entirely away, and his sword hand twitched the whole way back to his
apartment. Still, he figured he was safe for the night….time to smoke one last
cigarette as he fell asleep (maybe I’ll die that way…in my sleep, when my
cigarette sets the house aflame)…and then a voice rent through the hazy and
unstable peace of the humid night air.
“Hey.”
Saito spun about in a flash, hand not going to his sword (he was far too
confident of his own abilities to draw his sword before sizing up his
opponent), but twitching again ever so slightly, ready to reach for the katana
in an instant if he deemed it so necessary. He came face to face with….
….a boy. Brown hair sticking up in every direction in a way Saito would have
thought completely impossible where he not looking at it himself. It reminded
him instantly of a rooster. It was hard to judge the kid’s age, for he looked
young in the face, about sixteen or so, but he was tall, very tall, at least up
to Saito’s collarbone, and very very gangly.
Saito relaxed..well, as much as Saito ever relaxed. This child couldn’t hurt
him. “…….what,” he growled irritably.
The kid’s eyebrows shot up in amusement. “well, aren’t we Mr. SmileyPants?”
Saito said nothing, merely stared. It should be extremely evident that he was,
in fact, not Mr. SmileyPants, so what point was there in responding? The boy
smiled, a very insufferably insolent smile, Saito decided.
“You got a cigarette for me?”
Saito blinked. That in itself was something. It took a great deal to make Saito
Hajime lose his composure. The composure was not lost yet, but even to make him
blink in surprise was something. For at that last question, the boy had leaned
against a fence, his hips jutting ever so slightly forward, and ran a hand
through that impossible hair, and his voice had become….yes, there was no
mistaking it….sultry. Saito’s eyes narrowed.
“Are you…..hitting...on me?”
The boy grinned, making this slightly less disturbing…but only slightly. “You
betcha.”
Saito stared for a few seconds longer, trying to determine the best way to go
about this. Finally, he opened his mouth, pausing only a second or so before
replying very slowly “No, I do not have a cigarette for you.”
“Aw, come on…” the boy began whining in what he clearly thought was an adorable
and winning manner.
“You aren’t even old enough to smoke,” Saito continued. The boy bristled.
“I’m twenty years old.”
Saito snorted. “Sixteen.”
The boy eyed Saito, eyes narrowed. “Nineteen.”
“Yeah, in a few years, maybe.”
“……eighteen!”
“Seventeen, kid, and that’s my final offer.”
The boy regarded Saito with new respect now, not aware that it was showing
across his whole face. This man obviously knew what he was doing.
“Well,” he said at last, “aren’t you going to invite me in?”
Saito stared. “…..why the fuck would I want to do that?”
The boy shrugged. “Company. I know you spent the whole night with those
geishas. Certainly you could use some intelligent conversation.”
Saito snorted yet again. The kid had to wonder if he had bad sinuses or
something. “And you think you can give it to me?”
That smile again, that damn insufferable sultry smile. “I bet there’s a lot of
things I could give you. Some better than others.”
Saito stared. Something was off with this boy. He wasn’t quite sure what it was
yet, but for some reason, he had to figure out what it was. He had to get to
the bottom of it. A low growl rumbled in the back of his throat and he kicked
the door open to his apartment. “Get your scrawny butt inside.”
“Gee, you really know how to take care of a lady.”
“Don’t push your luck, kid. Either go in or get lost.”
Smiling a small mysterious smile, the kid moved, walking past Saito and into
the house. The man sighed. What the fuck am I getting myself into..
 
-tbc-
***** Chapter 2 *****
The instant the decision was made, Saito regretted it. As he watched the boy
walk past him, through the door which he, Saito Hajime had, for some reason,
kicked open, he knew that this boy was what he had that stupid premonition
about, and that this encounter could lead to nothing but trouble. And yet he
let the boy in and followed behind him, shutting the door and locking it.
Furious with himself and the way he was acting, Saito roughly removed his
jacket and practically threw it at the clothes rack, but not so forcefully that
it didn't remain where he put it. There was nothing in his world that dared
disobey him. When Saito Hajime placed you somewhere, you stayed put.
"So," the boy asked, standing barefoot by the door, his shoes kicked to one
side. "This is where you live."
"Like you didn't know," Saito grumbled, moving over to the counter and reaching
for the liquor cabinet. There was no way he'd survive this night without it.
"So you've been...what? Stalking me?"
The boy was now shuffling from foot to foot, hands thrust deep in his pockets,
that wild devil may care grin on his face. "Something like that. Though I'd
never use such a word."
"Oh, no, of course not," Saito said dryly, setting a jug of gin on the counter.
"Dazzle me with your version. What do you call it?"
"Well...I don't really have a name for it." The boy was silent for a long
moment. "I just...saw you in the street one day, and...well, you made an
impression." The boy stared straight at Saito, who found who couldn't actually
tear his gaze away. Rarely could men his own age meet his eyes that way, and
here this seventeen year old child held a steady gaze without flinching. "You
just...captured me somehow. You seemed interesting."
Saito silent for a few moments. What the boy said had intrigued him, though he
hated to admit it. No one had ever found him interesting before. At least, he
doubted it. Not that they'd admitted. And definitely not to the point where
they'd follow him home. That thought shook him out of his trance.
"So you stalked me. You know, that's a crime. I could have you arrested, boy."
"The name's Sanosuke."
"I didn't ask for your name," Saito interrupted, though inside he felt a little
jolt in the pit of his stomach as the name reached his ears.
"Well, maybe you should have," Sanosuke said, but he was smiling still. "After
all, that's manners."
"Yea, well I don't have any manners." Saito stepped closer, undoing the buttons
on his collar so that he could breathe easier. Now he could get a better look
at the boy, close enough so he could stare down at him from his nice, menacing
height...the way he usually interrogated criminals, he realized. "I could
arrest you right now."
Sanosuke smiled sweetly up at Saito. "You gonna?"
Saito stared down at him, trying to decide whether he should hit that smile
or...he turned away. "...no." Liquor, he thought. I need some liquor.
"So," Sano drawled from behind him, "You're a police officer huh?" He draped
his arms over Saito's shoulders. "Wanna put me in solitary confinement for the
night?"
"The thought had crossed my mind," Saito spoke around the cigarette he was
currently sucking down. Finishing pouring himself a glass of the hardest whisky
he could find, he set the jug down and very 'carefully' removed the boy's arms
from around his neck.
Two full minutes later, Sanosuke found himself able to breathe again. "Holy
fuck," he managed from his newfound seat on the floor. "What the hell did you
do that for?"
"I don't like being touched," Saito said calmly from his new seat at the table,
where he had been calmly drinking his whisky as he watched the boy recover his
breath and strength.
"And solitary confinement means I tie you up, gag you, and toss you in a three
foot wide, four foot long space overnight. That sound like fun to you, boy?"
"…no," Sanosuke admitted.
"Then next time, you'd better come up with a better pick up line, hadn't you?"
Saito watched the boy out of the corner of his eye, shaking his head as he
finished his whisky. "…..moron."
"So if you don't like being touched, then that's gonna make the sex
reeeeaaaallly difficult."
Saito sighed. "Do you think about anything but sex, you prepubescent fool?"
Sanosuke grinned, leaning his back against the wall and stretching out his
legs. "…not when I look at you."
That gave Saito a moment's pause. He could understand the geisha's crawling all
over him….they wanted what his position could buy them, but this boy….where was
the attraction here? He was old, he was grouchy, he smoked like an entire
village going up in flames, and drank like a geriatric grandfather with an
ulcer and nothing to lose. "Boy, did that flight into the wall rattle your
brains, or did you just have none to begin with?"
Sano laughed, rising slowly and painfully to his feet, testing out his limbs to
make sure they all worked. "Well, you've got me there."
"Because in case you haven't noticed, I'm not so much of a prize here. I smoke,
I swear, I drink, I have a violent temper….I just nearly threw you through my
kitchen wall….my tiled kitchen wall…..and as you pointed out before with a
skillful dexterity I'd have thought beyond the reaches of your pea-sized
intelligence, I am not, nor have I ever been, nor WILL I EVER BE, Mr.
SmileyPants."
Sanosuke stared. "….you done now?"
"…..for the moment."
A smile, that still insufferable smile! "…like you anyway."
Saito couldn't control the growl of frustration that emerged rasping from his
throat like a small animal was being suffocated to death there. "Moron, I'm old
enough to be your father."
Sanosuke threw back his head and laughed. "You sure know how to sweet talk a
guy." And stepping forward, he closed the small distance between them, his
hands sliding flat-palmed up Saito's shoulders to wrap around the back of the
man's neck. And for a few brief seconds, for the first time in his life, Saito
Hajime felt helpless. For some reason, he couldn't bring himself to push
Sanosuke away. And then he recalled the breeze, that damn cool breeze, carrying
with it paradox and promises of things coming…anyone else would have been
happy, hopeful, believing good fortune to be just around the corner. Saito had
known better, and as usual he had been proven right. For here he was, cornered
in his own kitchen, about to be kissed by a seventeen year old roosterhead.
And then Sanosuke's lips were against Saito's and thoughts were more difficult.
Saito couldn't remember the last time he was kissed and the boy's lips were
soft and full. He kissed almost exactly as Saito had expected him to…awkwardly,
nervously, that sweet inept elegance of uneasy youth. Yet there was something
different there as well. The kiss was more than Saito expected. On some level
he supposed he had gone along with it because he was expecting it to be that
and that alone: a small chaste kiss from some pathetic seventeen year old who
had a stupid crush on him (God knows why). But then Sanosuke's mouth opened and
somehow he coaxed Saito's to do the same, and then his tongue traced gently
across Saito's lower lip before slipping inside the older man's mouth to dance
along Saito's own tongue. And Saito sat there, too astonished to do a thing but
think Holy fucking hell, where did he learn to do that?
Suddenly all the anger came back. Saito couldn't believe he had let this boy
kiss him at all, let alone kiss him like this. And no one knew revenge like
Saito Hajime. He wrapped his arms around Sanosuke's waist, pulling the boy
closer, so close that their bodies practically melded together, and for the
first time he really noticed just how skinny the boy was, but he filed that
away to think of later, when he wasn't out for vengeance. Sanosuke let out a
little mewling sound as Saito nipped at his lip, their mouths clashing roughly
together.
'Game…..set…match….and….'
Saito bit down as hard as he could on Sanosuke's lip, nearly splitting it in
half, and that moan of pleasure turned into a cry of pain as blood spilled into
Saito's mouth. With one sharp move, he spun the boy around and had him pinned
to the floor, his left arm wrenched tightly behind his back, and it would be
very easy with a slight movement to dislocate Sanosuke's shoulder. 'Checkmate'.
Aloud he said simply "Moron," yet again. He couldn't figure why, but the word
just came so easily to his lips with this boy. "Just don't know when to stop."
Sanosuke was breathing heavily, and blood was dripping from his split lip onto
Saito's dirt covered floor (he had never been much for cleaning). "Huh?" Saito
asked, though Sano had said nothing. "You have something to share with the
class, you stupid roosterheaded adolescent? Want to tell us all what you
learned today about what happens when you try to screw men much too old for
you, you fucking pervert?"
Sanosuke shifted backwards, rubbing ever so slightly against Saito and getting
waves of pain through his left arm for his trouble. He let out a muffled gasp
at the feeling.
"Yes," Saito said calmly. "Any more movement and you'll dislocate that
shoulder. So I'd advise staying still if I were you."
There was barely the slightest of pauses. Sanosuke took a deep breath to steel
his nerves. He may be a masochist (he would have to be to go after Saito
Hajime; he had known this since he first laid eyes on the man), but he knew
this was going to hurt like a motherfucker. Slowly, he began to turn.
Saito's eyes widened. "Boy….I told you not to move. You're going to dislocate
your fucking shoulder."
"I don't see how that's your problem," Sanosuke managed through clenched teeth.
He had been right; this already hurt like nothing he had ever felt. Saito was
still staring at him, unable to believe the lengths this insane child would go
to. And despite the pain, Sanosuke was still moving. Rolling over slowly, he
was about halfway there. One more move, he thought, wincing. One more and it'll
pop. Another deep breath, that tiny movement and…
A tearing sound. A ripping feeling. A burning pain in his shoulder and down his
left side. And then everything went starry as Saito Hajime, underestimating his
own strength, slammed the boy's back flat against the floor.
"What the fuck did you do that for?" Saito practically screeched, except for
one very important fact: Saito Hajime never screeched. "Why the fuck did you do
that?"
After several moments, Sanosuke managed open his tightly shut eyes. "OW" he
said slowly. After a few tries, he managed to focus his gaze on Saito, though
the man seemed to have several eyes. "Think you could do that again, on the
other side?" he joked cheekily, smiling up into Saito's narrowed eyes. "Felt
damn good!"
Saito stared down at him, wondering how the fuck this boy could have his
shoulder dislocated and still be able to laugh about it. "What the hell is
wrong with you?"
Sanosuke smiled dimly. "Sadist, meet masochist," he said, indicating each of
them in turn. "A good balance, no?"
Saito's head hung despite his best efforts to prevent it and he sighed. "Dear
God."
"Just admit that you want to fuck me and it'll make everything much easier,
believe me."
"You are a child."
"Maybe so, but an incredibly attractive one….and extremely good in bed."
"You think so?"
"I know so." Sanosuke stared up into Saito's tired eyes, his own eyes narrowed
with an aggression and an obvious challenge, smoldering and deadly even at his
young age. "And so do you."
And somehow, amazingly, Saito did. For a moment he was silent, unable to break
that gaze, and then…..: "I don't have time for this," he muttered, and moved to
get up. Immediately he found Sanosuke's legs locked around his waist. He glared
down at the boy. "You think that's going to stop me?"
Sanosuke grinned evilly. "I'm stronger than I look." And with one swift tug he
had yanked Saito forward so that the man had landed on top of him, Saito's
weight landing heavily on Sanosuke's injured shoulder and causing the boy to
wince (good, Saito thought), their groins clashing in a way that Saito deemed
totally unnecessary and inappropriate. And if he had been at all the type to
blush, he would have been bright red at that moment, for he could feel
Sanosuke's arousal clearly, and he was pretty sure that the arousal that he
couldn't help but feel growing within himself was all too obvious to the boy.
Luckily he didn't blush. This situation was humiliating enough without adding
blushing into the mix.
Before Saito had time to think, Sanosuke had rolled them over, straddling
Saito's hips and pinning the man to the floor, not knowing of course that there
was no way he could keep Saito there. The instant Saito chose to move, Sanosuke
would be nothing but a red smear on the tiled wall. However, Saito wasn't so
sure he wanted to move. This situation seemed more appealing by the minute.
"See?" Sanosuke managed breathlessly, his useless left arm dangling by his
side. "You're not completely opposed to the idea." And he pressed his body
forward, rubbing his groin against Saito's in a way that made Sanosuke moan and
nearly elicited sound from Saito as well. But the man was trained for deadly
combat; he could handle sensual teenagers. Even overly erotic ones.
"You can barely even move," Saito commented. "Your left arm is useless. And yet
you still expect to convince me to sodomize you."
Sanosuke bit back a noise of some sort, a moan or a gasp or a little mewl, and
did some sort of thing with his hips. "Don't tease me. Do it or don't, but
don't keep going on about it."
"I'm not finished yet." And Saito realized for the first time just how much of
a sadistic bastard he really was. Torture, killing, blood death and guts, yes,
all good, but this? Better than all. Beating bruising and abusing this
beautiful piece of flesh above him and then teasing it and then…. he realized
with a sudden jolt that he was fully intending to make love to this boy, and
recalled his thoughts earlier on the geishas: the day I attach myself to one of
those money-grubbing harlots is the day I start buggering young boys. It looked
like that day had come.
No. Not geishas. He refused.
Another jolt. Not geishas, but fucking young boys was okay?
"Yo…..old man. You still with me?" Sanosuke bucked his hips against Saito's and
finally elicited a response. Saito let out a "gah!" of surprise and then,
hating himself for doing it and hating Sanosuke for causing it, gave the boy a
light smack on the cheek.
"I'm thinking."
"What is there to think about? Just fuck me, dammit!" Sanosuke bounced
impatiently in Saito's lap as he said the last bit, and a wry smile twisted
across the older man's lips. Leaning up, he wrapped one arm about Sanosuke's
neck and tugged the boy towards him.
"Well, if you insist," he murmured, and pulled the boy down for another rough
kiss, which Sanosuke met a sigh of victorious content. Saito didn't bite the
boy this time, but then again, he didn't have to. Sano's lip was already split
and still bleeding copiously. Saito made full use of it to sap every bit of
pain he could out of the seventeen year old, sucking harshly at the split lip,
loving the metallic tang of blood in his mouth because he knew it meant pain,
Sanosuke's pain; and damn all if the boy wasn't just moaning like some cheap
whore, pressing himself closer to Saito with each kiss, each nip, mewling like
some adorable kitten that was just begging for Saito to abuse it. Lord did he
want to kick that kitten.
"So….how much does that arm hurt?" Saito murmured.
"Like you wouldn't belie…AHHH!" Sanosuke cried out in pain as Saito probed the
already throbbing arm with one hand.
"A lot, hmm?" Saito asked, his voice a mockery of sympathy. Sanosuke glowered
down at him through the pain.
"Ahh…..like you care."
"Ohh, but I do," and Saito squeezed the arm tighter, eliciting another gasp.
"Ahhhhhh," Sanosuke's back arched into the sensation, and then hollowed out
again as he collapsed forward, head hanging so close to Saito's face that his
brown hair nearly brushed Saito's cheek, so close that the older man could hear
Sanosuke's pained breathing and for a moment Saito wondered if he had gone too
far. "…..harder."
A wry smirk traced across Saito's lips. "Moron." With one swift motion, he
flipped the boy over so that their positions were reversed and he was now
sitting astride Sanosuke's waist. "You're really that much of a masochist, eh?"
The boy couldn't even speak now, could barely breathe at the pain, so he
settled for a nod. "…y…yes," he finally managed.
Saito shook his head. "Let me put that back in for you," he said. "It'll make
things much…. easier. Hurt like a bitch, but…." He took a hold of Sanosuke's
arm, not being exceptionally careful, because he knew the boy wanted pain
anyway, and with one swift sharp motion, he popped the shoulder back into its
socket. Sanosuke bit his lip hard to hold in the cry of pain, only succeeding
in hurting himself worse as he reopened the cut on his lip, which began
bleeding anew. Saito sighed.
"You're such an oaf." Leaning forward, he gently licked the wound. His hands
slid up Sanosuke's body, one hand slipping underneath the boy's shirt to trace
along his chest, all taught muscle and frailty, and he realized again how thin
the boy was. "…and you're too skinny."
"…I can hardly see what that has to do with anything," Sanosuke wouldn't look
Saito in the eye; instead he ran his tongue along the man's jawline, rough and
unshaven as it was. Saito let him do it as he pondered the situation. He didn't
like being put off, not by anyone, especially not insolent children. On the
other hand, he could always raise the question again later, when they weren't
in the process of…..
Sanosuke had apparently been working all this time with the catches on Saito's
pants, unnoticed, for now he suddenly slipped one hand beneath the waistband
and Saito started in surprise. He would have to raise the question later.
Sanosuke found himself stopped before the action could even be started, his
hand caught in a viselike grip and Saito Hajime glaring at him. "Just what do
you think you're doing?"
Sanosuke grinned. "Hopefully sucking you off, in the next few seconds."
Saito stared. He hadn't been expecting this, hadn't been expecting this at all.
But then again, he wasn't really expecting any of this, didn't even know what
to expect in the first place. He had only ever had one experience of this sort,
and it wasn't the type of thing he liked to look back on. Still, he had come to
expect that the uke would be the receiver, as the word suggested….he assumed
he'd be the one doing most of the work, and now here this boy was, wanting
to….wanting to….
"What, you don't want me to?"
"….I'm thinking."
"Like to do that, don't you?"
"You should try it sometime, moron; might find it agrees with you. Though I
doubt it." Saito pondered the situation, and the hand that wasn't restraining
Sanosuke began absentmindedly running up and down the boy's chest underneath
the shirt, lightly at first and then with increasing pressure. It was an
interesting situation, to be sure, and he couldn't quite figure what he wanted
to do.
While Saito thought, Sanosuke was finding it increasingly difficult to think
coherently at all, while the older man sitting astride his hips began roughly
kneading his chest and waist. Saito had strong hands, a soldier's hands, and it
felt good, so very good.
Saito mapped out the planes of Sanosuke's chest as though he meant to memorize
them, as though by touching every inch of flesh he could brand it all onto his
fingertips, rewrite his fingerprints as though they had never existed. Become a
nameless faceless nobody, vanishing into the night away from all
responsibility.
Sanosuke didn't know how he managed to move while Saito's hands worked him over
like that, let alone sit up, but somehow he did. Dark narrow eyes focused on
him suddenly. "What are you doing?"
Sanosuke crawled on his knees until he was mere inches from Saito, slim fingers
reaching again for the older man's pants. "Come on," he whispered. "Let me.
You'll like it...I can promise you that."
"Is that so?" Saito's brow was arched in disbelief, but he was already leaning
back as he asked the question, hips lifting ever so slightly to allow Sanosuke
to tug the slacks down. "And what if I don't?"
Sanosuke grinned. "Comes with a money back guarantee."
Saito couldn't help but laugh at that, the sound rumbling deep in his throat
and causing Sanosuke's blood to burn hot and pulsating heavy through his veins.
"You only wish I was paying you for this."
There was the slightest hitch to Sano's breathing, his fingers pausing
trembling at the bend of Saito's thigh, then: "...no, I don't wish that."
The answer confused Saito, but before he could question it, slim fingers danced
across his flesh and then he felt hot breath before Sanosuke's mouth was on him
and damn. Damn damn damn. The boy had just barely gotten started and already he
was better than any woman Saito had ever had the misfortune to have been with.
His head tipped back slowly until it thudded heavily against the floor, eyes
sliding shut.
Sanosuke was surprised that he had gotten so little resistance from
Saito...after all the other complaining and fighting and for God's sake, the
dislocated shoulder (though he supposed that was really his fault), the fact
that Saito gave into him this easily on the blowjob was surprising. Not that he
wasn't grateful...not when Saito looked so pretty, so Godammned pretty with his
head tilted back, eyes slitted shut just like a cat, and Sanosuke had never
seen him look so relaxed. And yet he was tense, too, his hands clenched tightly
one second and then loose, fingers scrambling briefly across the floor,
searching for a hold on something before, seeming to realize that what they
were doing was unbecoming of a man of Saito's status, retreating back into
their tightly coiled fists. Saito's stomach was taut and quivering with the
sensations coursing through his body. The entire picture was beautiful to look
at, and Sanosuke did as much as he could (which wasn't much, considering how he
was otherwise engaged).
Saito's mind was racing, which was impressive in view of the amazing work that
Sanosuke was doing down below. He was in a daze, unable to focus on any one
thing. Most all of the questions dealt with a why? Why is this boy here? Why
did I let him in? Why does he find me so fascinating? Why is he doing this for
me? But none of the questions held sway for too long, as all kept coming back
to the one main question of 'where the merry fuck did he learn to use his mouth
like THAT?'
For Saito realized now that he should have seen it earlier: Sanosuke's lips
were positively sinfully beautiful. Absolutely made for doing deliciously dark
deeds. The proof was right here, in the way they moved, in every hot slick wet
motion they made.
And then there was a sudden rush of feeling and Saito's mind went curiously
blank and he couldn't think anymore, but he was vaguely aware of the fact that
he had to bite his lip very hard to keep from crying out as he came.
He lay still for several moments, waiting for his breathing to even and his
mind to settle. He didn't have long to think, though, before Sanosuke crawled
into view, his own breath very ragged and a wide grin on his breathless face.
"...well?" Sanosuke demanded eagerly. "The opinion is? Is a refund demanded?"
Saito couldn't help but laugh despite himself. "No, no refund will be
necessary. I'm quite satisfied. Though I don't think," he began, stretching,
"I'm going to feel like moving anytime soon."
Sanosuke laughed. "Good. That was my goal. Tire you out and score myself a
pillow in the process." And he stretched his long body over Saito's and then
collapsed, setting his full weight down on the older man. Saito noted that the
boy was as light as he looked. Too damn skinny, he thought yet again.
"No way," he objected. "If there is one thing I am NOT, it is..."
"...Mr. Smiley Pants?" Sanosuke interjected, grinning. Saito suppressed a
smile.
"Yes. But I was going to say 'a cuddler.'"
"Oh, that's fine. You don't have to do any cuddling. I'll just cuddle you."
"That's not acceptable either!" But Sanosuke just laughed, and Saito couldn't
help but smile, and he knew this was a battle earlier that night, one he lost
when he first let the boy into his house. "Fine, fine, sleep on top of me. But
if you drool on me, I'm going to sock you one, moron."
Sanosuke laughed. "Fair deal." And before Saito could register what was
happening, Sanosuke had kissed him square on the mouth.
"Goodnight, Saito," Sanouske said, still smiling that insufferably happy smile.
"Eh..." Saito grumbled, "...goodnight."
Hours later, Saito was still awake, with a soundly sleeping Sanosuke sprawled
across his body. The teenager's lithe frame was still coated in a fine
glistening sheen of sweat and a peaceful smile graced his lips, a look on his
face of complete contentment, a look Saito wasn't used to seeing, a look of
almost...relaxation? Trust? A sound combination of both, it was obvious, and
the shock and amazement Saito felt was like having ice water dumped on him.
Saito Hajime never relaxed, and people rarely relaxed around him; those who did
were fools. This boy was certainly a fool...moron, he thought somewhat
affectionately, gazing at that messy hair...but he was an honest fool. He
wasn't prone to the preening and posturing that all the rest of those imbeciles
seemed to love so dearly. No, unlike the rest of the world, Sanosuke didn't
take himself seriously. Sure, he had pride...sometimes undeserved, Saito
thought with some amusement...but Sanosuke knew that he wasn't overly bright.
Streetsmart he may be but genius he was not. And he was okay with that.
Sanosuke would never die old and rich with a harem of beautiful women at his
every beck and call (a thought which gave Saito a twinge of something
undistinguishable, something very like jealousy, something which made im
extremely uncomfortable and which he pushed quickly away)...but he was doing
just fine on his own.
Of course, Saito didn't trust people either...so that brought up the whole new
question of whether or not to trust the boy's seeming trustworthiness. But
Saito didn't want to think about this...it was giving him a headache.
Instead he found himself softly and gently running his hand flat-palmed over
the very tips of Sanosuke's impossible brown hair. It was surprisingly soft and
tickled his skin; his hand twitched involuntarily.
And in a surprising show of affection, Saito pressed a kiss to the boy's brow
(right alongside a thin trickle of blood, just over a purplish bruise he could
already see swelling there) and, wrapping his arms more tightly about the frail
frame of the boy atop him, Saito managed at last to fall asleep; and despite
(or maybe because) his dreams were full of flashing-eyed roosterheads, it was
the most relaxing sleep he could recall having had in years.
 
~tbc~
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