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“Please forgive me.”
With his forehead pressed against the woven tatami mat of the Kumonui headquarters, kneeling in deep dogeza, Rinne could only beg in repentance. His bare hands tightly gripped the floor with palms wide open, his white knuckles trembling. His shoulder blades were flared, sticking out with discomfort, and his arms ached from the strain of the degrading position. Even if he were to open his clenched eyes, all he would see would be the ground beneath him and his own shadow serving as a reminder of his guilt. A single, glossy bead of sweat dripped down the side of his neck, ever-so-slowly marking a trail down his collarbone before running under his shirt as if to hide. But the thoughts racing through Rinne’s mind were far from fearful—the shaking of his legs and the flush high on his cheeks proved that they were anything but.
“Stand up. What are you on the floor for? Don’t you think a man of your status should apologize with his head held high?” Chigiri scoffed, shifting his weight from one leg to the other. With crossed arms, he tapped one finger slowly, peering down at his subordinate with the eyes of a predator stalking its next meal. “Look at me.”
Cautiously, Rinne raised his head, and a small, forced smile spread across his thin lips. “Yes, Uncle.” His body relaxed slightly. Kneeling on the floor with those sadly-slumped shoulders, jacket and glasses long forgotten in their altercation, he seemed more like a scolded dog than the killer that Chigiri knew him to be. However, he deftly raised himself to his full height in a matter of seconds.
Even when barefoot and slouching back lazily, he still stood a few centimeters taller than Chigiri—it was now the lieutenant who looked down from above. “As I was saying,” Rinne’s tight smile widened, even though his eyes remained as flat and cruel as always, “I do hope you can find it in your heart to forgive me. You’ve always been such a generous man, haven’t you?” He held Chigiri’s focused, silenced gaze with practiced ease. “You know I mean it.”
It was only when he noticed that Chigiri’s eye was twitching that he genuinely began to grin.
Chigiri did not reciprocate the gesture.
He slugged Rinne in the side of the head, striking the center of his spiderweb tattoo as if it were the perfect target.
Reeling from the shock of the impact, Rinne stumbled, his vision blurring for a few seconds as he struggled to regain his balance. The room wavered, suddenly dark around the edges, and all he could focus on was the vague sight of Chigiri pulling back his fist again. Another strike came—he let himself fall at that one, collapsing to the floor in a crumpled heap of his own volition.
“I told you to stand up and look at me,” Chigiri snarled, “Are you deaf or just stupid? Maybe both. Unbelievable.” He stepped in closer, prodding Rinne in the side with a foot. “You clearly don’t recognize that words won’t be enough to make up for what you’ve done.” Still smiling, Rinne opened his mouth to respond, but a surge of pain flooding through his temples prevented him from choking out a single word. He lay on his side, facing Chigiri—or just facing his legs, really—unable to see the face of the man so cruelly deriding him.
Huffing impatiently, Chigiri spat on Rinne, yet this only seemed to heighten the excitement. “Really, I should have known that you’d enjoy this. Was this your plan all along?” Watching as Rinne bit his lip slyly, he sneered in disgust. “You—God, you’re a degenerate. What a sick piece of shit.” He prodded with his foot again, somewhat harder this time. “What will it take for you to learn?”
Rinne tried again to speak, to make some kind of quippy retort, but just as he opened his mouth, Chigiri kicked him in the stomach. Hard. All he could do was wheeze and spit, gasping for any pathetic hint of breath as the force of the thrusts heightened. With each strike, his guts seemed to fold in on themselves more, feeling as if the force of the blows was crushing him from the inside out. The pressure built up like a thousand pounds squeezing his stomach, a nauseating mix of pain and helplessness swelling up inside. Before long, his mind began to detach from the sensation, watching the pain arrive passively. The instantaneous pain of the punches was nothing compared to this. Wasn’t that wonderful! Maybe it was the sudden rush of hormones, or maybe it was just some crossed wires in his brain, but something about the brutality heated Rinne to his core: the first signs of sparks for a flame that had yet to be lit. Bile rose at the back of his throat, threatening to spill out until Chigiri stopped, stooping over to catch his own breath. “I don’t,” he panted from the exertion, “I don’t think you really understand.” Another, singular kick, though awfully halfhearted. “Not yet.”
Mustering up his strength during this brief respite from the onslaught, Rinne managed to choke out, “Then teach me.”
For the first time that day, Chigiri didn’t know how to respond, admittedly taken aback by the forwardness. Maybe this really was planned after all, and he was falling right into Rinne’s trap. He had heard that the lieutenant was—well, he certainly had his predilections, that was no secret to anyone in the Family—however, he couldn’t help but cling to the idea that there must have been some lines Rinne would not be willing to cross. That one little idea insidiously stirred some pernicious side of him, almost petty in its cruelty, that wanted to test those boundaries. And what better opportunity than now?
After seconds of silence, Rinne glanced up, awaiting a reply, his curious eyes feigning innocence as his world came back into focus—a world centered around Chigiri. The only response he received was Chigiri’s familiar furrowed brows and narrowed eyes, once again unflinching in their gaze. Then, yet another sharp kick: lower on his body than the previous attacks had been, but by no means any gentler.
The noise Rinne made was somewhere between a gasp and a hiss: breathy, loud, desperate. He recoiled, clutching his arms to his chest, cowering away and curling in on himself. It was no use. Chigiri dug his heel into Rinne’s cock, pressing down with as much force as he could muster. Each stomp brought out a new expression, each more pained than the last. Rinne was truly flushed, the red on his pale face spreading all the way from his thin neck to the tips of his ears. Tears welled up in the corners of his eyes, shut firmly as if he could escape the attack by pretending he couldn’t see his assailant. Any remaining trace of smile was gone, replaced by an anguished grimace. His small fangs flicked out like needles as his body tried to defend itself. There was no nausea, no threat of vomiting, only the threat of something else.
Just as he had in the minutes prior, Rinne shuddered wildly, the aftermath of each kick making his whole body spasm. Now, though, he could cry out easily. “Stop!” Another kick, and another. There seemed to be no end to the barrage.
How perfect, Chigiri thought, to inflict the same discipline upon Rinne that he had brought on so many others. He couldn’t remember the last time he had heard Rinne raise his voice, especially not to beg like all the vermin who had died under his heel.
“Please, ah, just—wait, I can’t—”
Satisfied, Chigiri paused. “Is that all? I thought you said you wanted to be taught a lesson.”
He hadn’t expected it to take so little for Rinne to give up, especially when a loaded gun to the head had proved to be mere foreplay to him. That would do for his punishment, Chigiri decided, and any further harm could land him in serious trouble with Shotaro. Seeing that ugly reaction left him satisfied enough. He’d tidy himself up, leave Rinne on his own to do the same, and they could each go on with their respective days, pretending like—
“I’m,” Rinne whined, voice weakly cracking on the syllable, “I’m close. Please, just…wait a little longer. Not yet.” He opened his eyes slowly, but they were unfocused, and the pained tears that he had been holding in began to flow out. “You really are too generous, aren’t you?” His voice was high, nearly cracking with desire, as he said, “Giving me such a reward when you’ve promised a punishment.”
Well, if that’s the way it was going to be, maybe not. Chigiri balked at this unabashed response. Sweat dripped down Rinne’s forehead, sticking his hair to the side of his face, his expression contorted with the wearied pleasure of a true masochist. Unable to bear looking at that face any longer, Chigiri tried to glance away, but what he saw wasn’t any better. The dark outline of Rinne’s clothed dick jutted out from his dress pants, accentuated by the way he squeezed his thighs together, writhing.
What was his limit, then, if it wasn’t this? Lost in his own mind, too captivated by the rhythmic heaving of Rinne’s stomach, his thin legs pressed together as if to stop himself from coming on the spot, Chigiri couldn’t look away. He swore he felt sick watching the display, watching that pathetic man tremble on the edge of orgasm. He wondered if that threat of nausea was anything like what Rinne felt when he was kicked, and the thought enraged him.
There was something else, too, though; some nasty little emotion that made him feel not like a yakuza nor an officer but like a petulant child. After all this time, after everything Chigiri sacrificed to get here, he thought, it wasn’t fair that Rinne got to enjoy this so much. Since his youth, Chigiri had put in countless sleepless nights, cut off anyone who would prevent him from his goal, and relinquished any sense of pleasure in his life just to get his revenge. What came of it? Only Rinne did, it seemed.
He immediately cringed inwardly at his internal monologue, but once that thought came, he couldn’t stop the next: that there was only one way to truly correct this unfair situation.
“Fine, then.” Gritting his teeth, Chigiri swallowed hard between words, his Adam’s apple bobbing. “If you want to be such a pervert, then put your money where your mouth is, Boss.”
That certainly got his attention. Another thrilled shudder, followed by a low whine. Couldn’t he even try to hide his delight? His unabashed demeanor stoked Chigiri’s anger, his jealousy—worst of all, his long-ignored arousal, heightening that fervent vortex about to gush out of him at any second. He had no choice but to ogle, a little sheepish at the fact that he still hadn’t torn his eyes away from Rinne’s undignified position. Of course Rinne would enjoy this. Why shouldn’t Chigiri, too?
He stumbled backwards a few steps, a little lightheaded, caught himself when his elbow knocked against the wall, and drew in a deep breath to steel himself for what was coming.
“For the last time, get up—no, wait, don’t. A dog like you has no reason to stand,” Chigiri barked, “Kneel. And do it properly.”
The gall of his own demand surprised him a little. He couldn’t help but feel like he was overcompensating, his high-strung nerves buzzing under the surface, masked by a tone hardened through years of experience with putting on a front. He watched as Rinne obeyed with a weak noise of assent, shifting his weight to lean on unsteady arms before sitting up more to move himself forward. Left knee first, then right knee, he lowered himself into seiza. Right foot over the left, his back was straight and not too stiff; his hands rested delicately on his thighs, which he spread open like an offering to his superior.
A pause crept in.
“Do I have to spell it out for you?”
“No, Uncle. I understand.”
Nodding, he showed a glimpse of his fangs, parting his lips ever-so-slightly before licking them like a carnivore. By no means was the motion reassuring, but Chigiri felt a biting pang of heat roll through his core when he realized how close that tongue—and those sharp teeth—were to his growing erection. He clung to the wall behind him like a cornered animal, his tattoo pressed into it. Despite all of Chigiri’s demands, he couldn’t pretend like the real apex predator wasn’t the man kneeling before him in respect.
So he had no choice but to assert himself more, lest he become the meal. “You’ll keep your hands where they are. Make of that what you will.” Saying this, he reached to unbuckle his belt and unbutton his pants, although he kept his zipper where it was. Rinne nodded again, quiet this time, but his wide eyes made it clear that he was no less excited. Still retaining his position, he leaned forward rather awkwardly, laying the side of his head to rest on Chigiri’s inner thigh. He sighed against Chigiri’s leg with a warm, shaky, stuttering breath that finally brought Chigiri to full hardness. Chigiri felt his cock pulsing, heavier in weight, a warm sensation running through it. All he could do in return was grind his fingertips against the wall as if to grasp it, as if finding something to stabilize himself could cool the flames lapping up inside his stomach. It was no use, though, especially not when Rinne craned his neck to grasp the zipper of Chigiri’s fly in his front teeth.
Chigiri had intended to humiliate him further with a difficult task, but Rinne clearly had more than enough experience. The motion was deft, as adroit as the casual flick of his wrist when he tightened his webs to mangle some poor soul; similarly, something about the ease of which he undressed Chigiri like a practiced slut was nothing less than mesmerizing. Hands still motionless, Rinne had only just finished fully unzipping when he took the elastic band of Chigiri’s underwear in his mouth as well.
It was Chigiri’s turn to be flustered, feeling more vulnerable by the action than he had any right to be. “No, stop, I—” Cutting himself off—Rinne could only peer up inquisitively, after all, his mouth was too preoccupied for conversation—Chigiri grabbed his waistband himself, pulling it down along with his pants to free his cock.
He wasn’t sure how Rinne would react to the sight. Chigiri didn’t expect awe, not from a man with experience like his, but he also wasn’t expecting the low, pleased hum that Rinne let out. The way he looked at Chigiri’s dick felt like an examination, at least to him, exposed in front of the man he had sworn to kill. If he had known this would happen, he might have shaved. The patch of thick, silver hair, nearly white along the ends, caught a glimpse of natural light shining in from the window. Rinne didn’t seem to mind.
When Rinne moved in close again, nose nearly touching, Chigiri’s stomach lurched. He felt exposed, the horrible sense that he had made a great mistake and ended up defenseless and there was absolutely nothing he could do about it. Worst of all, he didn’t know if he wanted to do anything about it. He could feel every one of Rinne’s warm breaths through parted lips when he relaxed his fangs so they flicked back against the roof of his mouth. His chest buzzed with static as he watched Rinne slowly bring his mouth to his flushed head, already beginning to leak beads of precome. Chigiri could have sworn that the kiss Rinne pressed there was sardonic, a sarcastic show of affection like a cruel inside joke between the two, until he kissed the tip again, and again, letting his lips linger longer each time until he took the whole head into his mouth. Sucking on it, he swirled his tongue around, building up saliva in his mouth before letting go to spit it out.
Chigiri shoved down the groan rising at the back of his throat and tried to count ceiling tiles. It felt like his ribcage was tightening, like it was threatening to strangle the heart beating out of his chest as it closed in, but it wasn’t an unpleasant feeling so much as an unfamiliar one. He briefly wondered how long it had been since he had even masturbated—that train of thought was cut short by Rinne’s tongue lapping against the underside of his dick. He couldn’t restrain the moan that slipped out.
Rinne stopped, smiling, and Chigiri could feel the pleased curve of his lips. Even without looking down, he felt his own cock twitch with anticipation. “What?” he huffed, more breathless than ever, and more incredulous about being mocked than the blowjob stopping—the sudden lack of stimulation was almost as annoying as Rinne’s smug grin.
“Were you really this desperate? What, going to host clubs wasn’t enough for you?” Something sharp grazed him—snapping his head down, Chigiri shuddered as Rinne, mouth wide, brushed his fangs against his thigh. It was no more painful than being scraped by the tip of a well-honed knife, the thin red lines only momentarily visible before the flesh resealed, fully outside of Chigiri’s control. “I’d call it cute if it weren’t so pathetic.” Trying to argue back, Chigiri opened his mouth, about to defend himself until Rinne sunk in.
Though his fangs were fairly short, they were just as sharp as they looked: tapered teeth that curved back as they pierced through Chigiri’s flesh, hooking in place. Chigiri locked up, his breath hitching, but he shoved down his instinct to shove Rinne away, grabbing at the spikes of his bangs but holding him in place. He felt his tissue vibrating from the inside, and could tell that Rinne was struggling to fight back against the outwards push of the regeneration. Two thin streams of blood began to run out of the puncture wounds, dripping down Rinne’s mouth and coagulating on his chin.
“Is this how you apologize?” Chigiri tightened the fist holding Rinne’s hair, making Rinne release his hold. His face twisted into something resembling guilt—resembling being the key word here, Chigiri knew Rinne too well to fall for that.
“Just a bit of fun, Uncle. No harm done. I don’t see why you’re so upset.”
But even when the bite had fully healed, the skin stitching itself shut until it was as pristine as always, the traces of blood remained. More importantly, they remained on Rinne. Chigiri stared again, watching his open mouth heave with deep breaths, then closing and licking the blood on his bottom lip as if it were a fine delicacy. He tucked away the image of his own blood streaking down Rinne’s face. His erection hadn’t flagged at all through the bite—something to reflect on later, not now, not when Rinne had re-focused his attention and turned to taking the entirety of his thick cock in his mouth.
The thump of Chigiri’s head against the wall could not mask him crying out again, louder, choking off until his mouth hung open in a silent moan. He was sure he looked a mess, sweat beading up on his temples, his choppy hair tangling as he arched his back against the wall, but he couldn’t care less. All that mattered in the moment was Rinne’s mouth, the heat of Rinne’s narrow throat tightening around him, his hot tongue working along his shaft, Rinne’s thin lips sucking him off, Rinne, fuck, Rinne! Chigiri didn’t realize until it was too late that he had said the lieutenant’s given name—that was the sound that he had pushed down before.
There was no room for Rinne to react. Just after he said his name, Chigiri pulled Rinne in by his hair, a half-conscious movement, partially intended to continue his pleasure and partially just to shut him up.
Rinne coughed on his own spit, mouth wrapped around Chigiri’s length. His hands, still obediently on his thighs, formed fists; his neatly-trimmed fingernails dug into his palms. The burn in his throat just encouraged him, though, even as his head started to spin. What a gift it was to be used. This was his place, after all—though his own dick throbbed from neglect, there was no better feeling to him than the taste of salt and sweat while he was treated like the slut he really was.
With Rinne’s head firmly in his grasp, Chigiri’s hips bucked up of their own accord, pushing his lower stomach into Rinne’s nose. Rinne really choked then, gagging viciously. He had taken longer cocks, but Chigiri’s was thick, filling up his mouth no matter how deep he took it. Letting Chigiri act as he pleased, Rinne stopped moving—of his own accord, at least—his head being yanked by his hair enough to make his scalp burn. He gave up, excited by the fact that his control had been ripped away from him. He could only focus on Chigiri now. His mouth and nose were clogged by Chigiri’s scent; the delicious sound of Chigiri’s strained moans filled his ears as he thrust faster and faster.
Rinne flexed his thighs once, twice, his legs going numb from the position and brain going numb from the arousal. Although his jaw ached, he tried to bob his head a bit, unable to do anything but try to breathe through his nose and shut out the distress signals clogging his brain. Even air was becoming difficult to find. Through his discomfort, he could feel Chigiri hitting the back of his throat; knowing that he was able to elicit such an unhindered response—that he was the one who could find the cracks in Chigiri’s composure—made the struggle worthwhile. He was even a bit surprised at himself, too, at how much he enjoyed kneeling at Chigiri’s feet, feeling disposable.
Chigiri might have felt the same way if he was currently capable of rational thought. All he could think about was how soft Rinne’s throat felt, and how if he pressed hard enough, forcing himself as deep as possible, he could feel the texture change in the back. He chased that feeling: the passive slide of Rinne’s tongue against him when he pulled out, the tension in his mouth when he pushed in.
He curled forward—the strain of his thighs was beginning to hurt, but he had to get more. The mounting pressure in his cock rose from the root up, aching for his climax; his cock was so hard it almost uncomfortable. A tension sitting at the base of his skull spread behind his eyes, his vision getting spotty as he neared orgasm, making him grind his teeth in a feeble attempt to release some amount of the frustration. He wanted to watch Rinne, see his face contort in pain as it was fucked like a toy, but he couldn’t help it when his eyes fluttered shut instead. His skull pulsed, the inside of his brain tingling like it was being shocked; he could trace that feeling all the way down his spine, feeling each and every nerve that it hit. Fumbling like the lights were turned off, he reached down with his free hand to pinch Rinne’s nose shut just before he came.
Chigiri’s cock flashed with pleasure along the whole length, base to tip, just as much of an explosion as the white flashes ringing out behind his eyelids. Every muscle in his body clenched, tugging in Rinne’s head flush against his body, his heart feeling like it had long since crashed through his squeezing ribcage. It felt like stretching muscles so sore that any movement of them hurt in the best way possible. The sound of his own voice didn’t register to him, but he yelled out as if in great pain, each spasm knocking the wind out of his lungs.
Rinne, too, couldn’t stay quiet—though he could not vocalize so much as heave and retch. Without any oxygen left, the world went curiously black for the second time that day as he was asphyxiated—not only by Chigiri’s hands but also by his cock. He wasn’t sure how much he swallowed on the verge of passing out, his mind swirled, brain turning to mud. It was reminiscent of losing a fight, watching his opponent stand over him with a loaded gun, and not wanting to get up and stop them. Whirling with a pleasant high, he didn’t think he’d mind if he passed out there, but it wasn’t much of a contest when he didn’t think much of anything at the moment.
With that, though, Chigiri stopped. Both hands letting go, Chigiri fell back against the wall again, even as his orgasm continued. Head now free, Rinne’s neck drooped forward, dazed. His shoulders jerked when he sputtered, and though he flinched as Chigiri’s cum fell on his face, ropes landing around his nose and mouth, he made no move to resist.
“Look at…” Chigiri gasped between every other word. “Look at the…at the mess you’ve made.” With what strength he had left, he grabbed Rinne’s chin and forced his head up. “You really can’t do anything right.” Though his palm was warm, the tips of his fingers were cold like ice against Rinne’s flushed skin, making Rinne jerk back a bit.
Rinne deflated, back slouching, though not out of genuine shame. He squinted up at Chigiri, feigning regret, as if the spit covering his chin or the cum on his swollen lips was his own fault more so than Chigiri’s. “Do tell me, then: how could I ever make it up to you?”
Chigiri swallowed his own spit, not realizing how much had leaked out of his mouth when he had come so violently. He wasn’t sure if he had ever had an orgasm like that. Certainly not recently, at least. The thought that he had just finished his first willing time at the age of twenty-nine while Rinne had more experience in each month than Chigiri had in one decade made him defensive again.
“First of all, I told you, sit up properly when you talk to me.” Rinne straightened his back again, shifting his legs despite the static feeling that had overtaken them. “Ah, spread your legs more than that.” Who was Rinne to disobey him?
Chigiri let go of Rinne’s chin before tucking his softening cock back into his underwear, not concerned with the mess, but he didn’t bother zipping up his pants again, either.
For a moment, everything was still. The sound of Chigiri’s heart pounding faded from his ears, Rinne caught his breath, and the two locked eyes just like that.
It didn’t last long, of course.
Shifting his weight to one side, Chigiri raised his leg, and Rinne shuddered when he realized what he meant to do. At that angle, Chigiri had the perfect leverage to drive his heel into Rinne’s erection with all his might, grinding down and kicking. No, not just that—instead of just kicks, Chigiri gave him raw, brutal friction, and Rinne once again felt the tension forming in his balls. Even better was Chigiri’s face: dripping with both sweat and saliva, matted hair sticking out at odd angles, and a murderous look in his eyes that Rinne had only known before when his life was truly on the line. Now, though, he got the disappointing impression that Chigiri was not about to commit post-coital murder. Well, there was just one spider here, he supposed.
No longer bared in front of Rinne, Chigiri was in control—he was safe. All of this must have been Rinne’s fault, Chigiri thought. He was such a bad influence, always acting like…always acting like that, so horny, and so damn shameless about it to boot! Chigiri couldn’t have possibly felt like this otherwise, or so he convinced himself. The mental image of Rinne, eyes closed, deepthroating him rushed to the front of his mind, followed by when he had first noticed that Rinne was hard, then the feeling of his fangs sinking in—Chigiri kicked Rinne like it would dissipate those ugly thoughts if he just went a little harder.
And the harder he went, the more Rinne’s excitement grew; so too did his voice, high-pitched whines that cracked around the edges and caught on his pained gasps. Though he didn’t usually swear, he couldn’t help the cries of “Yes, ah—fuck, fuck,” blowing out profanities when he felt his climax approaching like a wave about to crash onto the shore.
And then: nothing. The tide receded.
Just like he did before, Chigiri stopped. He let his foot stay on Rinne’s crotch, motionless, feeling his clothed erection throbbing through the layers of fabric.
Rinne keened loudly, mourning the loss of his orgasm. The feeling of pure tension that he had experienced before came back, too, albeit twice as intense and three times as maddening, pushing out at the root of his dick, just behind his balls. It seemed like everything was being squeezed out at once, but nothing really was, so the only thing left was a hollow, painful emptiness where there should have been pure euphoria. Even still, Rinne was in ecstasy despite denying his body the release it so badly needed. He pressed his lips together, feeling the quickly-cooling cum coagulating around his mouth, and briefly anguished that Chigiri did not grant him the same relief that Rinne had so kindly given him.
Clearly, Chigiri was fully satisfied, both with the sex and with his own show of dominance. He hummed thoughtfully, bringing his hand to cradle his chin in thought. “You’re right that I’ve been generous to you today,” he said, puffing up his chest a bit, “and if you really have learned your lesson, I think you’ll agree that some gratitude is due.”
Rinne moved his hands for the first time in minutes, wiping away the blood and cum that he couldn’t lick off of his face. He looked at his soiled hands for a second before responding, still reeling from the sensation of a second denied orgasm. “Yes, Uncle. Thank you.”
Chigiri scoffed and crossed his arms. “What’s that? Speak up.” He cocked an eyebrow when Rinne hesitated, but—
“Thank you. I hope you can forgive me.”
—in the end, all Rinne could do was beg.