Timing: the story is set after the 3rd volume, during the time when Junya and Honma are back to Japan - and Fujita decides to leave for America for good to start his own business
Summary: His life is slipping away from him - and sometimes he almost feels he can do something to stop it... but it's just an illusion.
"Nothing," Junya answered and added the truth that hurt but was the truth anyway. "As always, nothing."
He could've said: stay at home; read; watch a video. Stare at the phone that never rang and surely wouldn't ring this time, with Honma on vacations in Venice with his family. Feel how another day, week - year - spilled between his fingers. It would be the truth, too - but he wasn't sure Fujita would be so much interested in it.
Or, rather, he suspected Fujita knew it - it always had been behind Fujita's words, even when he didn't say it aloud: *you need to stop it, change something - before it's too late*. It was what had made their conversations so agonizing sometimes.
But this time in Fujita's question there was no double meaning. Actually, everything was already decided, Fujita leaving for America next month, leaving for good. He just had to complete his liabilities for the company. It had been exhaustive; Junya hadn't seen him much during last weeks and now, as Fujita looked at him, sitting at the computer, Junya could see his dark eyes surrounded with faint shadows of tiredness.
"Like a farewell dinner?" Junya felt something clench inside him at Fujita's words; he should've been ready, there was no reason why it hurt so much - but it did.
"Not like a farewell anything," Fujita snapped - and then his smile softened, became almost apologizing. "You won't get rid of me so easy. I'm still going to pester you for a few weeks more."
"I'd love to," Junya said, hoping that he didn't sound pathetic and knowing that he did. "To have a dinner, I mean."
"What do you think about that Italian place in Shibuya-ku? Well, I've actually made the reservation but if you think about something else..." Tiredness was almost gone from Fujita's eyes, his voice animated as usual, and Junya felt relief when seeing it.
It really hardly mattered where to go; it mattered much more that suddenly he had something to wait for on the weekend; except counting the hours till Honma's return, that is, and knowing that it was pointless all the same, what would Honma's return change?..
It made him wonder, of course, for the countless time, what he'd become; what his life had become. Junya didn't like to think about it. It caused him to feel cutting pain somewhere in the midriff - as if taking a breath hurt; it made him sick. And looking at his own pain-blanched, empty face in the bathroom mirror, he never felt any more worthless.
If only he could stop thinking that things could change no matter whether he wanted them to. If he couldn't leave Honma - then it would be Honma who would discard him one day, as a used and unwanted thing. One day - and Junya feared this day couldn't be far away. For how long his face, his body could keep attraction for Honma? He was not getting younger.
What would be when no one of business partners of their company wanted him any more? What would he be able to give then, to Honma, to the firm?
The Saturday evening was a warm, sunny one, with the shadows thickening very slowly in the rich boughs of green behind the windows of the restaurant. Fujita was telling how the preparations for the departure were going, about the things he still had to do - and about the things that waited for him in America, about his friend who was going to be his partner.
Perhaps this man was or would be more than just a friend and a partner for Fujita. Junya shook his head, dismissing this thought. Of all people, Fujita was the one who really deserved to be happy. There was no reason to feel the little pang of pain, of loss at this thought. Junya had done everything to separate Fujita's life from his own.
It still would be so empty without Fujita. He looked at the man, met his serious dark eyes that glowed softly as he talked. He knew Fujita's face so well, learned it for all this time as they'd known each other. Over the years, the forcefulness, the fierceness of unbridled emotions was gone from Fujita's eyes, replaced with determination and confidence. Fujita was changing - and changing in a good way, in a proper way. It scared Junya to think that he was the only one who opposed changes, tried to stall them.
"How about going to my place, for a drink?" Junya saw a little frown tremble between Fujita's eyebrows and added hastily. "No second meaning, okay?"
"Hey, it's not that I am so afraid of your attacks on my virtue," Fujita snorted. It felt good they both could talk about it easily this time, without something tense and unhappy that sometimes slid between them when they recalled Fujita's visit to Boston.
He really didn't mean anything to happen, Junya thought in the taxi, looking at Fujita's flushed, smiling face. He liked, even loved to look at this face. It just didn't mean anything, nothing could be changed.
It was okay, they both were adult people. Fujita wanted it his way, the way that Junya couldn't give him - so, let it be. He just was glad to stay with Fujita for a while longer, for some more talking. He didn't want all this time - hours, maybe, before he would be able to fall asleep - alone in his flat, sitting at the window, staring into the darkness - or worse, in bed, trying to feign sleep that didn't come and feeling the walls crowd on him, suddenly get too close and too looming.
As it was, leading Fujita upstairs to his flat, Junya felt almost light-headed. There was a mellow, comforting feeling he had, almost happiness. It felt unusual. What he used to consider happiness was a painful clenching inside him that he felt with Honma and that left him exhausted and even emptier than ever.
"Never mind." Fujita settled back in the armchair, his hands folded on his lap - and Junya didn't know what urge of making a stupid thing, of being nasty, wretched - as wretched as he felt - made him lean towards Fujita and place his lips against the man's.
At the very moment Junya heard these words, he knew he'd expected them, foreseen Fujita's reaction - and, maybe, it was what pushed him to do it. He wanted to get convinced there was no chance, wanted to remind himself what he was and what he deserved. He'd felt too good - he wanted to hurt.
"Sorry." He stepped back, folding his arms, showing that he was not a threat - and felt the stare of Fujita's intent eyes. He didn't want to meet this gaze - but he was forced to, eventually.
"I don't really understand you, Junya." Tiredness was back in Fujita's eyes and voice. "You don't think sex mends everything, do you?"
Yes. That was exactly what he thought - that sex could mend something. Well, not that there was any logic in it, taking into account Junya's sex life. If sex had counted, he would've been a happy, sane and contented person, wouldn't he?
"Sorry. You are right." He sighed and, seeing Fujita get up, said hastily, a flash of fear piercing him. "No, please, don't go yet. I should've known. I should've known you wouldn't want me."
He made a step back, putting a distance between himself and Fujita, worried that Fujita would think him obtrusive, occupying his personal space - and at that moment, with a small sound that was almost painful, Fujita stepped towards him and his palms cupped around Junya's face. Fujita's eyes, very dark, looked into his excruciatingly intently.
Somewhere deep inside, Junya felt a small unease at the intensity of this feeling that he deserved with nothing. But it was just for a moment - and then warmth of being close to Fujita, being held by him, overwhelmed him He wanted to say something and then decided that it was not necessary to say anything. He twined his arms around Fujita's neck, pulling him into a kiss.
They had kissed before - an awkward, empty kiss before Junya left for Boston - and then in Boston, later - and, thinking about it, Junya realized there was always some barrier there as Fujita's passion came across his inner resistance, even if his lips and tongue could act pretty willingly.
It'd taken years for him to really want to kiss Fujita - when it was almost too late. Or simply too late because it changed nothing for either of them.
Somehow Junya was afraid that if he let go, Fujita might reject him again, say all those words that would be gentle and probably correct but that would make Junya feel hollow and lonely again. He couldn't stand it. So, he didn't let go, clung to Fujita and kissed him until they both felt breathless, their tongues pushing against each other tiredly.
Maybe, it was not fair towards Fujita - but Junya thought he would make up for that; he could make Fujita feel good, he knew it. He just didn't want to unlock his arms from around the man's neck. Did he behave like a girl, like a whore... but wasn't it what he was, after all?
"Shh, Junya..." Fujita still held him, just his mouth moved away a little, his lips pressed to the corner of Junya's lips. "Easy, easy."
He pushed Junya slightly, without letting him go - lowered him on the sofa in a deft, smooth movement. Junya saw him kneel, felt Fujita's arms support him as Fujita kissed his face again, lightly, rapidly.
His face felt flushed, very warm with these kisses, his skin turning aglow - and he wanted more of it, wanted to feel more of Fujita's lips everywhere. He pulled on the buttons of his shirt, felt Fujita help him - and started unbuttoning Fujita's shirt. His hands were too reckless, too awkward as he tried at the same time to touch Fujita's face, to cup his hand against the man's cheek and feel Fujita's lips in his palm as Fujita turned his head.
He was gasping with impatience when their clothes were gone at last. The fluttering kisses Fujita was giving him made him feel dazed, as if drugged - and yet it was not enough. Even another kiss was not enough.
They found their way by touch, not wanting to break from holding each other. Junya pulled the blankets away; Fujita slid to bed and he followed, into the accepting ring of the man's arms.
The cool cloth of the sheets, the comfortable position suddenly made him restless. It was too good to lie next to Fujita, to be held by him - it was almost disconcerting. He didn't deserve feeling this good.
It could've been all different, Junya thought suddenly. His life could've been different with this steady, wonderful warmth of Fujita. Without the scorching fire of Honma. He wouldn't have felt like he was a moth with burnt wings then, wouldn't have felt like he was doomed, already dead inside and still hurting.
He knew it was a delusion - nothing could've been different. Honma was the one who made his life worth living. Honma was his life.
He felt Fujita's warm palm stroking against his chest as if comforting him and realized how tense he was, relaxed his muscles consciously.
"Did you change your mind?" Fujita's voice was soft, very serious. Junya cringed at his own awkwardness, at his inability to make anything right.
Fujita's fingers were hard and yet kind, intertwining with Junya's, squeezing slightly. Junya knew very clearly that Fujita wouldn't hurry him, wouldn't try to break 'his inhibitions' - if there could be any inhibitions after all those years of having sex with men he'd never seen before, who sometimes didn't care to ask for his name?
"As many times as you want." The chuckle in Fujita's voice made it all right suddenly, made everything feel easy and natural. Junya's felt open again, wanted every bit of his body accessible, waiting for Fujita's touch. He felt Fujita kiss his way down his chest, Fujita's thumbs stroke against his ribs.
He moaned when Fujita's wet, warm mouth covered his cock. It felt almost painfully good. It made his fingers curl in Fujita's hair - not really trying to pull the man closer but in the instinctive reaction to given pleasure.
Junya closed his eyes. He felt ashamed: so much for his decision to make it up for Fujita - and here he was, just lying there and taking it, as warm waves of satisfaction rolled over him. He felt secure, too, in no need to expect something he wouldn't be able or would have trouble to handle.
"T-thank you," he sighed out when pleasure covered him, his body spasming, his release spurting into Fujita's mouth.
He lay, giving himself a few seconds to wait out the exhaustion. There were small shivers going through his body and Junya felt Fujita's arms tighten around him. He reached towards the man, pulled Fujita closer, bringing their mouths together. He could feel the taste of his own come in Fujita's mouth as the man's tongue lapped on his.
"You always say such silly things in bed?" Fujita's voice was teasing, affectionate. Junya coughed in embarrassment - but nothing really could destroy his feeling of comfort and wellbeing at the moment.
Junya's fingers, travelling along the man's body, wrapped around the base of Fujita's cock, thick, hard, very hot. A small sound of satisfaction Fujita made was almost endearing, making Junya smile and feel a surge of gratitude towards the man for his patience.
"No, wait." For a few moments they were a mess of limbs tangled in sheets until Fujita managed to turn upside down, his cock against Junya's lips - and his own mouth against Junya's cock. A small blow of cool air Fujita let out made Junya shiver, made his cock spring to life again. "How about this?" Fujita murmured.
"Perfect," Junya said with a sigh of contentment, wrapping his lips around Fujita's cock and feeling the man's mouth envelop his own shaft.
Fujita was the first one to come, needed just a few movements to start climaxing, his tongue and lips leaving Junya's cock for a short while. The small, almost plaintive sounds Fujita made were sending waves of joy through Junya's body, joy that had nothing to do with the warmth in his groin. He swallowed Fujita's come and lapped gently over the man's softening shaft, feeling how Fujita wrapped his mouth tightly on his cock again.
This time his orgasm was longer and subtler, draining him out. He almost felt too weak to move - but he didn't need to move. It was Fujita who turned around again, settling them both comfortably for a kiss.
"You are sleepy," Junya whispered as the motions of Fujita's tongue became faint, just their lips touching.
"I am," Fujita agreed in a quiet voice of a small boy that made Junya laugh as he put his arms around Fujita and felt him nestle against his chest.
He didn't expect to feel comfortable with Fujita in the morning - but he did. The light of a cloudy day streaming through the unshielded window and the warmth of the other's body in his bed woke him up simultaneously, and Junya, curiously, found both sensations equally pleasant. He'd never waken up with someone else in bed before; those few times they had sex with Honma in hotels, it was always just for a few hours, no time for getting cozy, domestic - no point to start relishing those moments of rest.
Junya anticipated a familiar pang in his chest that remembering Honma always cost him, even just his name repeated to himself. But he must've felt too tranquil, too peaceful for this pain. Besides, Honma was far away; it would take almost twenty-four hours before he would be back, before everything would be back. And now there was Fujita, breathing quietly in his sleep, stretched on the other side of the bed, his smooth back uncovered with the blanket.
Junya shifted carefully, peering at the alarm clock. Half past ten. Did they really sleep for so long? Well, then he could unashamedly wake Fujita up.
The urge he felt was somehow new for him, the easiness of it - but he liked how he felt and decided to go with it. Fujita's back felt as smooth as it looked - warm, almost silky skin and the curves of relaxed muscles under it. Junya's fingers traced the lines of his shoulder-bones carefully, the hard contours of the ribs and the single row of the vertebrae - all the way down. He saw how Fujita's ribcage rose and fell steadily - and witnessed a slight hitch of a breath when the man woke up. Junya smiled as his fingers sneaked under the blanket, to the stronger heat of Fujita's body, the smooth crevice between his buttocks.
Fujita's voice was thick with sleep but his body moved with its usual energy and precision as he turned on his back, catching Junya's hand between his thighs.
His hair spiky and his eyes heavy-lidded with sleep, Fujita looked younger than ever, looked almost boyish - and Junya found himself mesmerized looking at this face, wondering at the feeling of serenity that filled him. He'd never felt so un-threatened, so accepted - and it especially surprised him that he liked this feeling. He'd used to think, trained his body into believing that he needed a slight hint of force, of danger hovering somewhere near to be turned on. For all the last years restlessness and insecurity were wired directly with sex for him, preceded arousal or accompanied it. He'd thought it was the only way for him to feel anything. But with Fujita he felt comfortable - and it still worked.
"This hand?" He ran his fingers over the inside of Fujita's thigh, barely touching, feeling a small shiver go through Fujita's body. "Or this hand?" Fujita's mouth looked puffy, slightly swollen after their night kisses - and Junya ran his thumb against these soft lips.
"Both..." The word was just a whisper - and then Fujita caught his thumb, lapped with his tongue on it.
The tiny tremors of impatience that went through Fujita's body and that Junya could feel against his lips as he kissed down slowly, made Junya smile again. The weeping head of Fujita's cock was in immediate proximity from Junya's lips but he didn't touch it yet.
He could feel the tension of Fujita's body - sensed the man's need for action, his impatience - and it pleased Junya more than anything else that Fujita stayed as he was, motionless, his hands not gripping, just sliding over Junya's shoulders. He liked that - liked to be held, to be reminded of the strength and warmth of his partner. He kissed up again, took one of Fujita's nipples in his mouth, sucking and licking at the same time. The sound Fujita made was almost heart-wrenching in its unconcealed pleasure and torment.
"Will you..." Fujita's voice was almost breathless; a small, helpless voice that made Junya flush with pleasure.
Junya's tongue, tracing the line towards Fujita's navel, stopped. It was not what Junya planned; he thought it would be the other way round, wondered if he would be able to take in Fujita's cock in the position on top.
The hot, seeping head of Fujita's cock was against his lips - and he lapped around it in gentle, sloppy circles. He heard Fujita whimper - and then whimper some more as Junya licked down all along his shaft and over his balls, to his perineum. He pushed Fujita's legs wider apart, with the man eagerly cooperating.
It pleased him to feel Fujita tense almost painfully as his tongue touched the man's anus. He could see the trembling of Fujita's thigh muscles as he licked, Fujita's hands clenched on the sheet convulsively. He took some mercy.
"Okay, if you didn't change your mind... then reach your hand to the nightstand, please, and there is the gel in the upper drawer."
He watched Fujita move, a sleepwalker-like movement as the man searched through the drawer without looking there. He was beautiful, Junya thought all of a sudden, totally irresistible - and, maybe, Fujita's spread, open position, his readiness to be taken were a part of this beauty, of his allure. Junya wondered briefly if it was the same thing his numerous takers had seen in him - and discarded this thought.
The gel was cool on his fingers and it amused him to see Fujita squirm at the touch, murmur something not quite in displeasure. Junya's other hand, warm, ran over Fujita's abdomen, patting like he would pat a cat. Fujita's body opened readily to his fingers that worked in.
He wondered briefly how strange it felt to explore someone else's body - after his own had been explored over and over countless times - and the thought made Junya go still for a moment, just the tips of his fingers brushing gently against Fujita's prostate.
"Please..." Fujita's voice was hoarse, his lips seemed too dry as he ran his tongue over them. "I can't wait, Junya..."
Junya shivered slightly feeling the coating of the gel on his cock and positioned himself, the wet tip of his cock against Fujita's hot, soft opening. He thrust in, reading Fujita's face for the signs of pain - and noticed just a brief one as the man's features smoothened quickly, his eyes closing. Junya thought suddenly that he'd never seen a more fascinating sight than Fujita's face, made so vulnerable by these long fluttering eyelashes; his breath fluttering, too, shallow and fast and becoming a gasp as Junya pulled out of him.
He felt so peaceful - an amazing sensation combined with the warmth spreading from his groin all through his body. He kept thrusting into Fujita, moved to change the angle, until his thrust caused Fujita to gasp, caused him shove back wildly. Junya's fingers were still coated with gel as he wrapped them around Fujita's cock and moved up and down in unison with his own motions. He heard Fujita cry out and his cock pulsed, spurting a jet of semen over Junya's fingers.
He watched a soft, tired smile spread on Fujita's lips - and let himself go, finished in a few wild, fast strokes and came inside Fujita, holding on to him closely.
He stretched down, bonelessly, exhaustedly, along Fujita's body and felt Fujita enfold his arms around him, long and solid and warm. He found Fujita's mouth blindly and shoved his tongue into it, met gently and eagerly for long moments, until both their bodies relaxed into sleepiness again.
"How about breakfast?" The time was half past one and Junya felt he should've been more ashamed of spending almost the whole day in bed. But he was not ashamed; he was just hungry.
"Sounds very, very good," Fujita purred getting out of bed slowly. He looked like a lazy cat, Junya thought, a stretching, contented cat.
"I can cook something - or we can go eat somewhere," he offered. He didn't know what idea he liked more. Having Fujita talk to him while he cooked was good - but, on the other hand, going somewhere, together, would be fun, too.
He just wanted this day to stretch longer, Junya realized, in its unhurried way, with Fujita near to him.
"Well, I know that neat place near the Botanical Garden," Fujita said contemplatively. "The food is delicious and it is usually not overcrowded. And then we can walk around the Garden for a while if you want."
"We'll just have to stop by at my place," Fujita added, sniffing his sweater. "It's not good any more."
The minimalism of Fujita's place startled Junya at the first moment and then he realized some things must've already been packed, maybe, even sent to the USA. He should've known - he had enough time to get accustomed to the thought that Fujita was leaving, was almost gone. Yet it made Junya feel as if something gripped his throat, making it difficult to breathe.
"You'll be sorry to leave this place, won't you?" The question was not the one Junya really wanted to ask - but as Fujita looked at him, glanced up from the bunch of fresh clothes he chose, Junya knew somehow that Fujita understood.
"Oh, I am. I love my flat and my things..." Junya stopped abruptly, realizing what he was saying. As if he had nothing but things in his life. But it was true, of course, he had nothing.
After that, everything was just wonderful - the late lunch they had on the terrace of the cafe, their walk along the alleys of Jindai Garden.
Junya suddenly thought how cheerful and contented the people they met looked - families and couples. The day was sunless but warm and there were quite a lot of people around. He thought almost with regret that before, he'd usually felt alienated in a crowd like this, would have felt not belonging there. He'd used to think that it was not his world - the world of normal people. His world was of the beds in expensive hotels, appraising eyes on him, burning humiliation.
He cast a glance at Fujita's peaceful face, as a strong feeling of foreboding overwhelmed him. He felt like holding on to Fujita, as if the man was a small island of stability that appeared in his life. He had to remind himself that it was not for long, that Fujita was leaving for the USA - and, besides, the life he, Junya, had was the one he didn't want to change. Everything he'd done was on his own will - everything he'd done was for him and for Honma and for their relations.
"Would you like..." he didn't realize he was saying it until actually heard the words coming from him. "Would you like to spend this night at my place, too? I'll drive you to work tomorrow."
He thought, in advance disappointed, that Fujita would say 'no', it was Monday tomorrow, he had so much work before his departure. But Fujita just nodded, his long-lashed, chocolate eyes gentle.
So, they spent the evening in front of the TV, re-watching Godzilla vs. Mechagodzilla and drinking tea, Fujita's head against Junya's shoulder - and it was nice, so nice that Junya almost couldn't believe it would ever be over.
But later, in the darkness, when Junya's body still sang with the residuals of pleasure, he thought that now it was certainly all over. It was past midnight - and on Monday everything was going to be as usual. Honma would be back - and with him, the inexorable, unbreakable link that connected Junya to him - the need that lived in him deeper than in his mind, that was like poison in his veins. Fujita couldn't protect him from that - and Junya didn't want to be protected. It was just a brief moment of weakness when he wanted tomorrow to never come.
He must've snuggled to Fujita, clutched his hand on Fujita's - and Fujita sensed it, tightened his arm around him. Junya should've felt comforted with this immediate response but somehow felt even more unstable.
Junya knew immediately whom Fujita meant, the same man they both thought about, the man who was so far away and still seemed to be present. But the words surprised Junya; he expected Fujita to insist on Honma knowing about their tryst, maybe, trying to use it as an argument in convincing Junya to leave once more.
"Mochizuki-san, Honma-kachou waits for you in his office." The secretary's voice on the comm was silver and sweet and yet it made Junya shiver slightly. He expected this call - yet somewhere deep inside, he felt very distinct unwillingness to follow this order. "Mochizuki-san?"
Honma had never looked better; it was the first thought Junya had when seeing him as Honma turned towards him from the window. The usual immaculate suit, the straight, almost regal stance - and the bronzed, bright face with the long, sparkling eyes that both smiled and seemed to be glimmering ice. The gaze made Junya feel cold and burning inside, feel the longing that seemed to be never fully quenched, not even when he was about to pass out after their love-making.
He didn't know what affected him more: the sound of this voice, smooth, deep, the voice of liquid gold or of expensive brandy, both scalding and enthralling - or these eyes. Or, maybe, the familiar, clear, heady smell of perfume that he felt coming from Honma; the smell that, even felt in a crowd, almost caused Junya an embarrassing reaction by reminding of every moment they spent together. It was all too much. Too fast. Somehow Junya felt overwhelmed, crushed under the weight of his own sensations.
Somehow he always found it very difficult to just talk to Honma - like he and Fujita were talking yesterday and on Saturday. Somehow the words even didn't mean much in Honma's presence. So, it was not a surprise when he dismissed what Junya said with a wave of his hand.
He couldn't come up with anything clever - and how could he, when his mind was occupied with a million things at once? Whether Honma pressed 'Do not disturb' button, whether it was likely that he didn't have any meetings before lunch and then he would put down the shades on the windows - and would tell him not to make much noise because the secretary was in the waiting room... But at the same time Junya really didn't think about anything. He almost felt like he didn't exist, dissolved in Honma's presence, alive only at the moments when Honma wanted him, touched him. He wished desperately to cover the distance between them, for Honma to move towards him, to hold him. Then he would be able to breathe again.
For a moment Junya wished he could believe he heard wrong, it was not what Honma said. How could he know? He'd just returned a couple of hours ago, hadn't he? Oh, but did he really expect Honma not to know? Everyone knew everything; even if Junya didn't want to believe in it, tried to tell himself they didn't. Everyone knew what he was for Honma, what he was getting his promotions for - and that his time would be over soon.
A moment later Junya thought he should've explained, should've found a justification. He could've said Fujita's car was broken - an awkward lie but it still would be better than flat acknowledgment that seemed to imply as much as Honma's question did. Junya recalled Fujita's words: *"Don't tell him that we..."* - and shook his head trying to forget them.
If Honma got angry... The truth was that Junya didn't know if he was afraid of it - or if Honma's anger would be just a part of intoxicating, sick attraction that he felt unceasingly, would just add to the slow fire that consumed him every minute he was near to Honma. At his lucid moments Junya was afraid of how messed up he was, his clarity of mind almost gone, which made taking any decision insurmountably difficult, any wise move impossible.
"I see." Honma's long eyes shaded slowly, the smooth lids covering them made his face impenetrable, an expressionless mask.
The pause was almost impossible to bear. Junya found himself feverishly looking for something to say, on the verge to start babbling, spilling out excuses - and only understanding that it wouldn't help stopped him. Not pride - pride was not an issue, hadn't been for a long time. Perhaps he hadn't ever had pride to start with...
He almost preferred Honma to say something mean, something rude, like *"Did you give him a farewell fuck?"* or ask him if it was good - but, of course, Honma didn't. It would be below him - Honma was never indecent, mind-spoilt, never rude.
If he didn't say anything, Junya thought, if it was all over now... Pain hit him inside, as if cruel fingers were thrust inside him and clenched and twisted there. He tried to fight it - but he could think about nothing but: please no, not yet. Please don't let it stop like this. He wanted to pray and found no words - and all the same, he always knew that any prayers from him would never be listened to. Please no. He wouldn't be able to live with Honma gone, with Honma leaving him.
Junya would like to apologize, to say he was sorry for what had happened, for what he'd had with Fujita - but a tiny sliver of dignity prevented him from doing it. Fujita was possibly the best thing in his life, it was his own fault he didn't manage to cherish this best, he didn't deserve the best.
Junya didn't hesitate; he didn't think at all. There was no place for thinking - as there was no place for relief. Junya just walked towards Honma, let himself be raised on tiptoes - and opened his mouth towards Honma's tongue. The reaction of his body was immediate, undeniable - obscene in its swiftness. He didn't know if Honma was intended to satisfy him now - or if it was a small revenge - and he couldn't do anything all the same. His lips felt tender and sensitive under Honma's teeth, his nipples through the cloth of the shirt and the jacket were hard almost painfully, making him try to press closer to Honma, to merge into the grip of his hands. He knew Honma felt his erection - and he knew that in a small way, Honma was pleased with it, with the little sign of his power. But he also knew it wouldn't change anything, wouldn't mitigate his punishment, whatever it was going to be.
"Come back after the work." Honma's whisper was like silk against his skin. "I'll make you remember me, not him."
Junya wanted to say that he already didn't remember - the welcoming easiness of Fujita's kisses, the solid warmth of Fujita's arms, the comfortable intimacy they shared. And it was all right - he didn't want to remember.
Jyothi Menon is currently Executive Director Human Resources at Union Bank of Switzerland. Jyothi has been in the realm of HR for several years.