Subtly, I twitch the curtain, watching him get into his kidnap mobile and leave for the day. I’ve spent the morning ignoring the whale mating sounds emanating from my stomach, choosing to wait until I’m sure he’s gone before venturing out.
My dignity is more important than Himari’s freshly baked croissants… though those are a very close second.
I’m not ready to face him after our encounter yesterday and thankfully, he hasn’t imposed himself on me since; leaving me to lick my wounds in peace.
Once the car turns into a dark speck in the distance, I breathe a sigh of relief and finally head down for breakfast and stop dead in the dining room doorway.
The boss might be away but the muscle stayed behind today.
My attempt at reversing is stopped by Himari who chooses that moment to bustle in with what I can only assume is a whole pig worth of bacon for red. “You’re going to miss out if you
don’t eat now,” she says and all eyes turn to me.
Fucking great.
“Hey, Trouble! She’s right, if you don’t grab something now, Tamaki here will eat everything,” red says while gesturing to the dark haired one.
If that’s Tamaki, then red must be Kirishima.
He’s not wrong, one glance at Tamaki and his one man buffet says it all.
“Kidnapping is one thing, but I will riot over starvation.”
The room is deathly quiet before Kirishima bursts out laughing. “Still haven’t found a filter?”
With a shake of my head, I take a seat and plate up. “I don’t see the point; maybe if I’m obnoxious I can check out of Hotel Yakuza early.”
They’re not so bad.
Kirishima laughs easily and while Tamaki is more reserved, he has a dry sense of humour that rears its head from time to time.
This breakfast is a lot more pleasant than the previous one, the guys making it easy to forget that I didn’t want or ask to be here. I feel like part of the furniture, like I’ve known the two of them all my life and we’re just having a friendly catchup.
I’m oddly comfortable when in reality, I should go for the jugular with a butter knife in a last ditch escape attempt… but here we are, sipping coffee like it’s normal.
“Taishiro says I roughed you up a little,” Kiri says, looking shamefaced. “Sorry, adrenaline and all that and I forget my own strength. You hurt badly?”
“Taishiro?”
Tamaki laughs quietly. “What have you been calling Fatgum until now?”
I shrug, “Mostly son of a bitch.” No one needed to know that I’d also referred to him as Sir and that I’d done so of my own volition. With more ease than I care to admit.
Kiri laughs again. “To his face?”
“Fuck, no. Do I look like I have a death wish?”
“You rubbernecked during a hit,” he says.
It's the sombre reminder my hormones and I need.
This is not a getaway and as easy as they are to talk to, these are not my friends.
“Shit, you’ve done it now.”
I give Tamaki a small smile. “He’s given me a reality check that I needed.”
“Aw shit, y/n. I didn’t mean it that way. You know you’re safe here.”
There is no holding back a scoff of disbelief.
“You really are. He’s decisive, he would have had me put a bullet in you right there.”
“Warms my fucking heart, really.”
He shrugs like that’s all there is to it, like Taishiro is nothing more than a good samaritan. Great, I’m not dead but my life was stalling, indefinitely paused while I stagnate here. I want to scream in frustration and rage at my own stupidity.
“He’s not a bad man,” Tamaki says. “You can’t be expected to understand that.”
“Tama, I saw what I saw.”
“Did you see what led up to it?” he counters.
“We don’t share the same moral ambiguity. Murder is murder.”
“You don’t even know who that was,” he says, “you’d be singing a different tune if you did.”
“This isn't getting us anywhere,” Kirishima interjects.”I say we drop it but Fat had reasons to do what he did.”
I want to argue with every fibre of my being. What possible reasons could there be to off someone on a piss soaked sidewalk?
We sit in strained silence until I can't bear it any longer and excuse myself. Breakfast has turned into a cold, oily lump in my stomach while I reassess and I think I might be physically sick.
“That’s nothing beer won’t fix,” Tamaki suggests.
“Or sake,” Kiri chimes in.
I shake my head. “Both of those ideas are shit.”
—------------------------------------------
Kirishima laughs, slipping sideways off his chair and grabs onto the table for support. This sets off both Tamaki and I and we’re hysterical again.
After some coaxing, sake turned out to be a good idea; the amount of sake…not so much.
I giggle and hiccup then giggle because I hiccupped.
“So, you’re telling me that Fatgum is like… like…” I go cockeyed trying to think, “like tattooed Robin Hood?”
Kirishima nods with all the seriousness of someone who’s had ten too many. “Exactly. Good man that one.”
“Best one,” Tamaki agrees.
I take another shot, my throat already numb to the burn of the alcohol. “Robin Hood,” I say seriously, “was a thief.”
“Are you sure?”
I squint at both Kirishmas. Fuck, which one of him had asked the question? “I’d stake my life on it.”
“To the library!” Tamaki decrees, grabbing the bottle and getting unsteadily to his feet.’”We need answers.”
We follow him, weaving down the corridor and barrel into Fat’s study. Kiri makes a beeline for the wall of books.
We pull down book after book, drunkenly leafing through them to prove my point. They pile up around us while Kiri and I debate the difference between Fat and Robin Hood.
“For one, he’s not British,” I argue, tossing another book on the pile. “He also doesn’t have a jaunty hat”
“Like a pimp?” he asks, outraged.
I wheeze, falling back in a fit of laughter and upset the leaning tower of literature. It topples around us and I cackle.
“Imagine,” I manage to say between breathless giggles, “just imagine him in a zoot suit with a hat.”
“With a feather,” Tamaki adds.
The office doors are flung wide, banging off the walls. “What the fuck is going on in here?”
Kiri and Tama immediately jump to their feet, trying and failing to sober up in a matter of seconds. I take Kiri’s hand to hoist myself up but he sways and we both sprawl across the floor.
“I leave for one afternoon and you turn this into a frat house?!” he demands.
I look over to him and get up unsteadily. “A frat party would have better music.”
He glares at me and I raise my hands in mock surrender.
“Don’t shoot the messenger.”
“You two, get the hell out of here and make yourselves useful unloading the car. And you,” he keeps his eyes locked on mine, “you go to your room and sober up.”
“Make me.”
“Y/n,” Kiri hisses a warning.
“What did you say to me?”
I raise my chin slightly in defiance. “I said, make me.”
He crosses the room in brisk strides, one hand grabs my wrist and the other wraps around my thigh. “You asked for it.” He swings me over his shoulder like I weigh nothing and turns on his heel.
Upside down, my head spins, every step he takes makes me jolt. It’s worse when he jogs upstairs, to fling open my bedroom door and throw me on to the bed.
Scrambling upright the moment I land, I fling myself at him, noticing his momentarily startled expression as my momentum makes him stumble.
We crash to the floor in a tangle of limbs and his lips find mine in a searing kiss. I moan at the taste of him mingling with the lingering taste of sake. Heat courses through my veins, lighting up nerve endings until I’m acutely aware of every inch of his body pressed against mine.
Widening my legs, I straddle his waist, swallowing his groan of desire as I rock experimentally against him.
“Fuck, dumpling,” he growls, deepening the kiss when I grind down on him, my hips chasing the friction that sends sparks dancing up my spine.
His fingers tangle in my hair to manipulate the angle of our mouths as they slant together. He devours me until I’m panting, my body trembling against his as my pussy grows hot and tight, aching with emptiness.
I want him. Right now I want him more than I want to get away from here.
Reaching between us, I cup his cock through his tailored slacks and squeeze gently, feeling a low growl rumble in his chest.
When my fingers tease down then zip, his close around my wrist.
“Stop. We can’t do this,” he says, his breathing as ragged as mine.
I had to have misheard him. There’s no way this man whose cock was throbbing against my pussy, whose hips were pumping against mine just moments ago said we can’t do this.
But his hands on my waist, gently lifting me from him confirms I haven’t.
“Taishi-”
He cuts me off with a soft kiss, his lips whispering across mine.
“Not like this, dumpling,” he says before nipping my bottom lip gently. “Come find me if you want this when you’re sober.”
Helping me up, he kisses my forehead before leaving me confused and sexually frustrated.
Flopping face first on to the bed, I scream into the pillow, my body still high on the way he'd felt.
Between the rush of liquor and endorphins rushing through my veins, I'm an overstimulated wreck. Wretchedly unfulfilled.
That's the only reason I bite the pillow and slide a hand into my tights to find the release he refused to give me.
