je_levy: (Further Sitting Sexiness)
[personal profile] je_levy

Title Animal Crackers Part I
Pairing/Group: Nakamaru/Koki/Junno, Nakamaru/Maria/Jun, KAT-TUN, Arashi
Rating: NC-17
Warnings: AU, BDSM, pet-play, politics, tickling, a threesome, toys, recreational drugs
Notes: .
Summary: What would you do if everything that you knew had been wrong all along? Nakamaru Yuichi, newly recruited member of Sakurai Sho’s political campaign party, the Storm Reform Party, is about to find out just that with the first step he takes into the Haven.

A/N: After many long weeks of racing down the DOA deadline train and many nights of no sleep, our team managed some manner of coherence and churned out this magnificent masterpiece.

So much thanks to the other two pieces of what made up

[ profile] elizajet and [ profile] ayame_hadouken for being super teammates and putting up with my eye-twitchy demands and being continuously hardworking and adding their brilliant ideas and talent to a work we could all three of us be proud of.  Originally posted at [ profile] je_devilorangel here

'A giraffe came by the willow tree

Stopped to gaze and talk to me.

For he was very lean and tall

A pillar, a column, a walking wall.'

The rain drummed in a steady staccato rhythm against the metal awning, creating a soundtrack for the business center of the city and stirring up scents from gasoline to steel to the woodsy cologne of the Executives. Nakamaru Yuichi shivered and strained to escape the cold of the late afternoon by wrapping his jacket around himself. He crinkled his nose in disgust at the less-than-perfect weather.

He liked things perfect.

A born information collector and analyst, he had just passed his Exams and had received the specifics of his final placement. Order should have been his middle name.

It was an Election year.

It had been one of the few reasons Nakamaru had been given employment so quickly. Five political parties were up for candidacy and Nakamaru, having passed his examinations with distinction, had been given his pick of the lot.

Perhaps it was the rumours and reports of Minister of Social Development Sakurai Sho’s refreshing and organised methods that had convinced Nakamaru to join the Storm Reform Party. Simply because while Nakamaru was a supporter of the current system of affairs in government, he could still see some areas that were very due for reform.

On his first day, earlier that very week, it was because it was an election year that Nakamaru had been able to walk right through the buzz of Sakurai-san’s department without being noticed. The department had been stacked with flyers, books and the desks had been cluttered with all types of campaign paraphernalia. However, the reception in front of all this had been empty save for the small nameplate with the name ‘Ninomiya Kazunari’ inscribed in silver letters on it.

Nakamaru clutched his attaché case and peered around the divider and saw three other men at the end. “Um, excuse me?”

It might have been less demoralising if none of them had visibly heard him but one of them, the oddly well-dressed one (purple cashmere sweater all loose in the sleeves and expensive silver watch hanging a little lower at his wrist); there with his thick sculpted brows and auburn hair, cheek in his palm; elbow to desk had glanced briefly from staring vacantly at his screen at Nakamaru. It was a once-over that relayed a shower of judgements in one sweep from Nakamaru’s hair down to his shoes. The man had looked back at his computer, appearing, it seemed, to have already forgotten Nakamaru was there.

Ever since he’d begun the examination, he had been quite convinced that someone had been following him. For weeks now, he'd had the niggling feeling of eyes upon him so, in hindsight, being treated like he was invisible was such a strange, unpleasant contrast. Within those office walls, on the other hand, no one saw him or acknowledged him apart from accepting productivity.

Nakamaru’s fingers tightened on the handle of his attaché case as he took a deep breath. Across the way was a somewhat ajar office door and Nakamaru was drawn to it by the bright letters engraved in gold over the glazed glass. Sakurai Sho.

At the time, Nakamaru had had a plan of action. From what he’d learned in all his years training for this day, the correct thing should’ve been to approach the man directly, introduce himself and make his impression.

Nakamaru had drawn near the door, ignoring the clatter of typing and the other three employees quietly muttering at one another. (Probably talking about him). It was as he raised his fingers to tap on the door that he saw the two of them.

He recognised Sakurai from the campaign posters, cherubic and affable face with a hard and very serious stare. He was leaned back in a large, cushy leather desk chair, drumming his fingers on the desk as he paused thoughtfully. His gaze was turned to the other person in the room who had truly been the first thing to catch Nakamaru’s attention. Not really over his appearance, which was relatively unexceptional; little, but long elfin features and a deliberately blank stare coming out of a pair of rather artful looking eyes. More for the fact that he was seated cross-legged on Sakurai’s desk like he belonged there, clipboard and pen in hand, nodding as he scribbled.

“Find out the precise dates and times that company owner goes in,” Sakurai was murmuring with a soft little smile. “I want him to see what we can execute with his very own eyes.”

The man on the desk’s mouth twitched up. “Oh that’s genius,” he remarked appreciatively.

Sakurai shrugged, looking very boyish, if anything, as he worked to hide his sheepishly smug look. “Get it together as quick as you can. I’m eager to get started.”

“Gotcha,” said the man on the desk, swinging his legs off the surface and hopping down. On instinct, Nakamaru backpedaled and dropped into a chair near the door, attaché case laid flat on his knees just as the man swept out, scanning down his page of notes.

Nakamaru watched him walk around reception and plop right into the chair behind the name ‘Ninomiya Kazunari’. Nakamaru stood, hoping the movement would attract Ninomiya’s gaze but the man was whistling and running the end of his pen down a page as he read. Nakamaru had gazed at him for a pensive moment, vaguely annoyed. He had been aware that he was wasting valuable time in uncertainties there.

Straightening up, he had looked toward Sakurai’s office. The large desk chair was now turned to the stretching window, casting a long shadow across the cream-coloured office carpet. Nakamaru pressed his hand to the door, pushing it a little ways open, moments from making his presence known.

Then it seemed, so quietly, he’d heard Sakurai-san sigh, whether in satisfaction or something else, he couldn’t tell. Still, there had been something in that. He had thought how strange it was, then, that Sakurai seemed slightly projected by this office, by its denizens, carefully in control and yet Nakamaru already knew from the ads, the posters, and the newspapers that this was a man who inspired change with the simple expectation in his gaze and demanded nothing but the absolute potential seeping through the cracks of The City.

Nakamaru would not let him down; he would…

“Excuse you,” a voice had interjected.

Nakamaru had jolted, looking around, a bit winded by his own nerves, at Ninomiya. The man had a hand on his hip, pen clicking against the edge of his desk as he surveyed Nakamaru a little too openly, like he was doing it deliberately in a rather malicious gesture. “You…don’t just walk into that office,” he had said finally, slowly like he was coming out of reverie.

Nakamaru blinked. “Um, I’m the new guy.”

“Coulda’ guessed,” Ninomiya muttered, mouth quirking again in that odd way. “And I’m the guy you have to go through in order to talk to...” He gestured with a sweep of his hand toward the office door. “…the guy in there.”

“I’m…sorry,” Nakamaru said hesitantly.

“Don’t be. Call me Nino and I’m your direct superior. From today, you’re the assistant to the second most important person in this office— me, naturally of which the first important is Sho-san-- and underling of everyone else— I’ll introduce you in a minute. Work hard and we’ll see where that gets you. Slack off and you’ll be retracted so fast, you’ll be sharpening pencils for examination halls back in school,” Nino explained, expression unchanging as he still surveyed Nakamaru in that infuriatingly slow and disinterested way.

Nakamaru nodded, lifting his chin in an attempt at looking less permanently servile. “Understood. Where will I be working from?” he asked shortly.

Nino pursed his lips, seeing Nakamaru’s little careful gesture with his observant stare. It was a sharp, quick narrow look like he’d made a sudden and quick conclusion that Nakamaru would’ve missed if he hadn’t been watching closely.

“Hm. Your desk’s that way.” He came around from behind reception and nodded toward a small empty desk in the corner behind the divider. There was a small computer on the end of it, screen pressed to the wall. Nakamaru strode past Nino, taking his suit jacket off and settling it on the back of the chair before slipping into it, laying his attaché case neatly on the desk top.

One arm resting on the top of the divider, Nino waved languidly at the others. “That’s J, Aiba-chan, and Captain but you’ll call them by their actual names. Now—“ he paused to reach behind him for the clipboard, slapping it briskly right in front of Nakamaru. “Show me what you got. I need the schedules and operation hours of all the companies on this list and I need that done before lunch.”

Nakamaru nodded, scanning down the list. “Understood,” he muttered, reaching for the computer mouse.

He could feel Nino looking at him for a long moment before he turned on his heel to head back to reception.


Four heads in the room swivelled instantly in Nakamaru’s direction as he hit ‘print’ and the printer in the center of the room began to whir. The other three at the end watched him get up for the printer and Nino followed, snatching the still warm page just as Nakamaru picked it up. His sharp eyes roved down the paper with a moue of disquiet as the others looked on.

“You’re… a quick one, new guy,” Nino murmured, giving him a sidelong glance.

Nakamaru trained his expression and shrugged. His life was facts, numbers and order. He knew the area of every one of these organisations. All in the mercantile area lining along the riverside and their most common trait was that they were run by one of the oldest families this side of the City, so naturally they’d be listed in the same section of the directory and pre-organised in tax reports and census records. This was cake.

“Well, then,” Nino went on after a still moment in which the others remained an analytical audience to their little moment. He nodded at the pile of ledgers over by the other three. Clearly, they’d been doing some data-collection of their own. “There is a lot that needs doing. You’ve just earned yourself a very full workload from today on.”

Nakamaru hadn’t batted an eyelash. “I’m ready,” he had stated quietly.

That had only been his first day. Nino, who turned out to be Sho-san’s campaign manager, would then proceed the rest of the week to crowd Nakamaru’s every waking second with statistic reports, meeting minutes to scan and memorise and the opposition’s campaign advertisements to analyse. He’d performed one miracle and he was then expected to be a veritable superman.

Objectively, he wasn’t doing bad by the superman thing.

The objective superpowers aside, Nakamaru liked to think of himself as a relatively average young man. He now had a nice job and his own place in a Business Living District (he’d grown up in the mercantile area)- so he was elevating his status. His crowning achievement was his impressive collection of fashionable eyeglasses (and they all coordinated very well with his sombre pressed suits and casual wardrobe, if he was being modest).

The whole week had been a bit strange, with his usual paranoia at an all-time high and the feeling of eyes on him frequently popping into his thoughts. It was not uncommon however, for candidates like him who were up for jobs in the Government to be observed.

So he’d assumed.

But everyone had an off day-- and, after a week of order and statistics that made sense, today was Nakamaru’s.

He scratched his head and sighed as sheets of silver sluiced over his head and down the neck of his neatly pressed suit. He was always prepared, and somehow he was out of step today, umbrella left in his locker at the office instead of firmly inside his satchel where it belonged.

He ducked inside his favorite bookstore to escape from the downpour. Against the fresh and, well, not a little exciting onslaught happening to him at work now daily, this was his most preferred little guilty pleasure. Even if it was a bit close to the shadier districts of the city, he could always enjoy an evening perusing the stacks. It happened to be near his flat, and when he felt the urge to drink coffee, it had some of the best he'd ever had at a reasonable price.

Running his fingers over the spines of the books, he pinpointed the sections he would visit and a strategic sequence easily. Although he could have done a better job, the bookstore was set up in quite the logical order.

Selecting a volume from the military section based on his reading speed and the amount of pages (and okay, sure, the cover was pretty), he began to read.

He had just cracked open the thick book on military strategy when he felt like he was being watched, the imaginary weight of unseen eyes pressing directly between his shoulder blades. He was just being silly, of course; it was still very much afternoon, though the daylight was fading under the weight of the rain. Besides- why would anyone even bother to stalk a bookstore patron, much less him? Nakamaru shook himself, squared his shoulders, and wandered to the register to order a coffee. He was a no-nonsense man and preferred the French Roast black.

Coffee and book in hand, Nakamaru took a seat in one of the plush chairs toward the back of the store. He placed the cup on the low table set in the middle of the cluster of chairs and settled in to learn more about the successful tactics of past generals.

He'd lost track of time reading, and absently reached for his lukewarm coffee. It tasted a little strange, but Nakamaru mentally shrugged it off as he drained the cup. Instead of waking him up, though, he seemed to have gotten much more tired than he'd felt in a long time. He struggled to keep his eyes open, unwilling to fall asleep in a store like some sort of weirdo. The last thing he saw as his eyes finally fluttered shut was someone who looked to be around his age; with a shock of platinum hair and a wild look in his eyes, like a spider monkey on speed with hands reaching out for him.

Nakamaru was supposed to be safe where he lived. He was an inhabitant of the Triangle, the elite, now.

The Triangle, also known as the Business District, was situated on a dark sliver of land between two shimmering silver rivers, and was the heartbeat of the city. It was Nakamaru’s stomping grounds, where he lived and worked.

Lit up at night, it looked like a glowing beacon between the modest merchants’ district on one side (a.k.a. The Loom) and the less than savory Haven on the other.

The City was built to order, with structure in all places and rows. It was based on a grid system laid over the natural landscape, as if an architect took a paintbrush and drew perfect lines of grey and green over the dusty brown dirt.

In addition to the layout being perfect, The City’s inhabitants were sorted from an early age into groups, then measured according to their abilities and every possible feature. The system was fail-safe and had been in place for decades. From the Identification Number issued at birth to the Qualification Exams around age thirty, there was a place for everything and everything had its place.

However, it was from within the Haven that the rumours of truest disorder crept.


Nakamaru inhaled on a gasp. Warmth. The smell of sandalwood, deep and earthy perfumes and a sweet floral all hung in the air. It was the first thing to hit Nakamaru when it seemed the world swam back at him.

With his cheek pressed to rough fabric, mouth as dry as carpet, and the space between his eyes throbbing with a pain that was manic, Nakamaru swallowed thickly and tried to open his eyes. His eyelids were just as heavy as the rest of his body felt. He made his first attempt to move and his first thought was that he must be at home and must have collapsed on his couch, but he was badly disabused of this notion the moment he heard the chuckle.

It was a chuckle like a soft breath of laughter-- like someone responding to the single sight of him and that it was close, looming near him, a certain closed space. There was that and the echoes of chatter, calling and shifting somewhere past the walls around him.

The blur of the room tilted in on him when he opened his eyes. Nakamaru rubbed his eyes and fixed his gaze on a figure seated right across from him, barely even a metre away. it took him a moment, training what he could see and the throb of his nerves on the single spot, the very brazen look fixed on him.

The man was seated backwards on a loopy-looking cherry wood chair, arms draped on the back of it, chin resting languidly over them. Platinum blonde, a swathe of hair like a halo, framed around his face like sunrays meant especially for black lights. Nakamaru noted quite quickly the oddities of this figure; curved back so poised that his slouch looked deliberate; his elongated limbs, arms decorated with quicksilver bracelets that looked an awful lot like shackles.

As he observed Nakamaru sprawled back on the sofa, he was playing at a piercing, a small metal hoop with a glittering miniature bead hooked through it, with his tongue on his lower lip. There was something in that. Something unnecessary. Even in the way the very neat contours were accentuated by the clinging fabric of his trousers.

He seemed to regard Nakamaru with a steady, studied gaze, the nature of which appeared wide, deep black and disarming. And he simply didn’t blink.

When Nakamaru pushed himself upright in alarm, the man smiled. It was the smile that set Nakamaru on edge justifiably. Perhaps it was recognition, an instantaneous trigger-memory. The jittery feral look that seemed to swing into the disquieting pierce of that gaze and it came upon Nakamaru in a fell swoop. The bookshop, the strange off-taste of his coffee and those very hands reaching for him.

“Hey,” the man said, still smiling, his affable tone a total anticlimax to the leer in his expression.

His eyes followed while Nakamaru made quick and various attempts to get up. His aim was to put some distance between himself and this being. Nakamaru’s body, legs mostly, refused to cooperate, however, and had him in a heap on the floor. To which where his attacker casually stretched and leaned over the drape of his arms. He craned his neck to gain what seemed a better vantage point.

Nakamaru slumped against the seat of the sofa. “What did you... what have you done to me?” he demanded quietly.

“I used a barbiturate,” came the plain reply. His voice was so strange, intonation all wrong with off-lilts of something like the beginnings of laughter. “One of my own.”

Nakamaru swallowed again and looked around swiftly as his vision steadied. He wanted to start panicking, but he was in a room with a man so clearly unbalanced he may as well have been pointing a weapon at Nakamaru.

In taking stock of the room itself, Nakamaru saw that it was dimly-lit with round yellow and red-shaded lamps and the space was small, with nondescript framed paintings he couldn’t make out at this angle, the walls were papered with bordeaux paisley and all the furniture had a lean to it, contrived and loopy. Surrealist designs.

“You kidnapped me.” Nakamaru murmured, his voice shaking off an attempted controlled breath. he curled his fingers in, trying to keep calm even with that aggravating gaze on him.

“I figured about an ounce would do you, but considering your build, I might have added a bit extra,” the man continued. “Just needed you still and liquid enough to carry.”

He broke off in a little private chortle, deeply amused by himself. Nakamaru felt a bit ill. People didn’t just kidnap other people without reason and Nakamaru was assuredly peeved. “Where am I?” he asked stiffly, insides still churning.

That smile had the audacity to stretch; lips sculpted like they weren’t meant to move that much, but still they stretched further into a decidedly predatory grin. “Oh, we’ll get to that soon.”

Then, abruptly, the man dropped his arms from the chair and pushed himself upright from his thighs. The undulating puppetry of this movement flexed from his legs to his hips until he was standing. He executed this in such a pointedly lazy way that it came off as almost inhuman.

Nakamaru stared.

His kidnapper held out a hand and Nakamaru drew back violently, but the man seemed completely unfazed. “Come on, now; we’ve got a lot of ground to cover tonight.”

Nakamaru reached out and with nothing more than a swift tug, was hauled abruptly to his feet, which nearly toppled him right up against the man. He took a quick step back. “Ground to cover?” Nakamaru prompted.

“For starters, call me Junno,” the man said definitively. He offered this little phrase like it was a tantalising treat; an on-sale special just for Nakamaru.

Nakamaru’s personal space was quickly invaded, this Junno character slowing his stride to match; he even had the audacity to sling one lanky arm companionably around his shoulders. Nakamaru surreptitiously stared at the wrist nearly wringing his neck, and Junno’s bracelet was a shackle. He tried to shake Junno off of him as he asked, “Junno. Where are we?”

“Well, Nakamaru Yuichi,” Junno began, voice seemingly on the verge of full-on laughter, “we are in The City, and I’m pretty sure my special coffee shouldn’t have made you forget that.”

Infuriating. And unsettling. Nakamaru halted, Junno’s arm nearly pulling him over as he stood mulishly. “I never told you my name.”

Junno finally let go of him and turned to face him fully. Nakamaru tried not to stare as Junno’s pink tongue flicked out to worry the ring in his lip. “I know lots of things, Yu-i-chi,” Junno drawled. “Perhaps you’ve felt that you’ve been under observation lately? Of course it was the Government, but I did my share of peeping as well.”

“Congratulations on your new job. However, that is only part of the reason I’ve brought you to the Haven.” Junno’s voice had lost the nearly laughing lilt and was closer to a monotone, and he stared blankly at Nakamaru before seeming to come back to himself. “I have things to discuss with you, and a surprise too. Come along now.”

Nakamaru was too stunned to protest as Junno wrapped spidery fingers around his wrist and dragged him down a corridor lined with alternating red and yellow lamps between plain black doors. He wasn’t sure, but he seemed to be able to hear muffled noises that almost sounded like screaming. What was this place?

Junno finally stopped at a door and flung it open. He pulled on Nakamaru’s wrist once again and strode into a dimly lit room. There seemed to be some sort of frame on the far wall; a cluster of opulent high-backed chairs were arranged around a low table on which a carafe and two spindly wine glasses rested.

They crossed to the sitting area, and Junno graciously gestured for Nakamaru to take a seat. Nakamaru sank into the overstuffed velvet cushions as Junno did the same. He watched as Junno picked up the carafe and carefully poured deep red wine into the glasses. Task complete, he put the carafe back and slid one of the glasses toward Nakamaru before picking his own up and raising it in a cheeky toast. “Cheers~”

Nakamaru stared, then finally picked up his glass and returned the gesture. It was only polite, but he didn’t really trust anything that Junno offered him. There was probably some weird concoction in this too.

His train of thought was interrupted by Junno’s ringing peals of laughter. Nakamaru slowly turned his head to stare.

“Oh, Yuichi, how precious! Your drink is perfectly safe; why would I want to drug myself?” Junno was shaking with the force of his laughter, eyes scrunched shut and drained glass dangerously close to crashing to the floor. “Besides, you’ve probably already completely metabolized what I slipped you back at the bookstore, so you needn’t worry about that either.”

Nakamaru tentatively took a sip, then set the glass down. Maybe that would appease the madman, and he could get home even quicker.

Abruptly Junno’s laughter stopped and he straightened in his seat, abandoning the glass. His eyes seemed blacker than they had when Nakamaru had first woken up in his care and it was a struggle not to shudder beneath the weight of Junno’s gaze.

“Yuichi, I’d like for you to experience life in the Haven. I want you to understand that what we’re about to watch is completely consensual. My pet is allowed to tell me, or my proxy, if something doesn’t feel right or if he’s too frightened. He says ‘no’ and many variations thereof, but if he truly wants to stop he tells us ‘red.’ Are we clear?”

Nakamaru wasn’t sure what was being discussed, but he nodded. The words did sort of make sense, even if he wasn’t completely aware of the context; “pet” was a bit of a strange word choice, though.

“Um, yes?” Nakamaru nodded even though he wasn’t one hundred percent sure if he was. Risk-taking was usually not one of his top priorities, but he had a feeling that if he refused, he’d find himself in an even more strange and awkward situation. He figured that some type of game was being discussed. Junno was like the Sphinx, spouting riddles that Nakamaru had absolutely no answer for or no clue as to what they meant.

The Haven seemed to have its own language and Nakamaru was definitely missing the dictionary. Junno, however, seemed pleased enough with Nakamaru’s simple agreement, disregarding the hesitation in Nakamaru’s voice.

“Good, then let’s go! I’ll give you a tour before we play,” Junno broke into a smile, his serious expression replaced with one of merriment. He looked over his shoulder to see if Nakamaru was following, and Nakamaru rationalized that he probably should. Getting lost in the tunnels of the depraved Haven didn’t sound like a good night to him. He still wasn’t one hundred percent sure what exactly went on inside the walls that his hand was skimming over, feeling the stucco beneath his fingertips.

Nakamaru’s heart beat a rapid tattoo, echoing off of the walls in a staccato pattern that seemed to drown out all other noise coming from the various rooms branching off from the hallway they were quickly making their way down.

Junno hummed underneath his breath, a slow dirge that seemed somewhat funereal. As much as Nakamaru felt he was heading to his own, he would have appreciated something more upbeat.

“Are you doing okay, Yuichi?” Junno said, a note of concern in his voice as he turned around and noticed that Nakamaru had fallen behind. It was hard for Nakamaru to keep up due to the long athletic strides Junno took. Nakamaru had been one of academic prowess since he was born, not used to physical activity. He had managed to stay slim due to good genetics and watching what he ate-- he was a bit of a picky eater anyway.

“Sure, I’m okay, you just have er... have the legs of a giraffe,” Nakamaru said, attempting to crack a joke to not only clear the air but because he couldn’t think of anything else to say with Junno’s intent stare on him.

“Thank you, Yuichi!” Junno said and did a jig in the middle of the hallway.

Nakamaru gaped, but nobody seemed to notice or care that Junno was dancing down the hallway. Everyone seemed to have a place to go, and Nakamaru noticed an abundance of specific symbols in jewelry and colored metal bands, from circles to triangles and stars. He assumed that it signified different parts in the “world” of the Haven, almost like identification badges. Junno himself had one on, a small pendant around his neck that was nothing but a tiny silver bar with a number on it and two circles. He wanted to ask Junno what all of it meant, but he got swept up in the crush and noise of the hallways.

“This will be so much fun, Yuichi!” Junno chirped and nodded to everyone he passed in the hallways. “Everyone has such a crazy experience their first time, but you get a special treat, because usually Anne doesn’t let new people watch her, and she’s the best, plus you get to see me!”

Nakamaru was surprised to see that the denizens of the Haven ranged from people who were dressed identically to him to the unsmiling woman who towered in front of him. Shrouded in black leather from head to toe, he gulped with the feeling of her laser-like eyes on his skin. She was tall with slight curves, the leather pants hugging her ass and the leather corset pushing her breasts up. Nakamaru wasn’t sure where to rest his eyes because he certainly didn’t want to meet hers. He settled for the floor as he thought that would be the least likely to cause a confrontation.

“What is this?” she asked Junno in a brusque manner, tilting her chin up and eyeing Nakamaru curiously, an edge of irritation and hostility there too. Nakamaru couldn’t shake the feeling of being a piece of meat up for auction and hiccupped in fear as she ran a finger over his jaw, lingering by his ear, a slight smile on her lips as he trembled under her touch.

Retrieving a clipboard from a table near where she was standing, she began to take notes and examine him thoroughly, from grabbing his ass to lifting up his shirt to look at something-- he had no idea what. She reached around front challengingly and mimed like she was about to grab his crotch and Nakamaru squeaked. Chuckling at his outburst, she smirked and wrote down the last of his information on the paper.

Stunned, he felt like he couldn’t move, impaled with her dark chocolate brown eyes. The only sounds audible in the quiet hallway were his heart pumping a rapid tattoo and the nervous blood sloshing through his veins at a marathon rate.

“His name is Yuichi, and he’s going to watch us play,” Junno said, threading his fingers through Nakamaru’s dark hair and moving far too close for Nakamaru’s comfort.

“Personal space is a limited commodity here, Yuichi,” Junno quipped, releasing his hold on Nakamaru’s hair and leaning over a bit to rest his pointy chin on Nakamaru’s shoulder.

“He’ll have to change, he’s not outfitted properly for what you had in mind, at least, unless you are doing some bizarre roleplay I’m not aware of,” the woman poked at the lapel of Nakamaru’s slightly shiny navy suit and sneered at his meek expression. Turning, Nakamaru saw that she was wearing at least four-inch heels and nearly matched Taguchi in height.

She dwarfed him by at least two inches and Nakamaru stared up at her, his cheeks flaming in embarrassment and mind fuzzy as she stared him down with a smirk on her shiny crimson lips. From the pencil aiding her strong eyebrows to the lashings of mascara, everything on Anne had a purpose, to enhance, never to conceal. Nakamaru had a feeling she had nothing to hide, and she couldn’t even if she wanted to, with her height and dramatically good looks.

Nakamaru wasn’t sure that he wanted to “play” this anymore, whatever it was. Between the drug-wielding platinum tornado and the Gothic nightmare of a woman staring him down, he would have trouble sleeping for weeks. He didn’t have time to contemplate refusal though, because both Anne and Junno pushed forward, barely giving him time to respond as they set-up for what was coming.

“My name is Mistress Anne. You will call me Mistress or Mistress Anne, but not Anne,” the woman said, gripping Nakamaru’s throat with one elegant long-fingered hand. “Do you understand, Nakamaru?” Anne said, her words short and to the point. If they were in the workplace, Nakamaru would admire how forthright she was, but as of now, she just utterly terrified him so he gulped and nodded, his eyes sliding down to glance at her lacquered thumbnail pressed against his lips.

She tilted his chin up, nodding with approval at Junno. “He’ll do,” she said dismissively with a leisurely raise of a dark eyebrow to Junno. Nakamaru tried to speak but the pressure on his lips from her nail made it obvious that she wasn’t interested in anything he had to say.

“And silence is golden, Nakamaru,” she said, barely concealing her smirk as she motioned for him to follow her. Junno grinned and nodded, prodding Nakamaru to go.

He was scared of being alone with Anne, but even more afraid of making her angry or irritated, so he followed, careful to memorize every detail he could see of where they were going. It had became a habit since childhood, one that served him well when he would get lost, even though it was very hard to get lost in the Triangle, with the sleekly laid-out and planned streets.

The Haven seemed to be a throwback to earlier times before the imposition of grids and city planning, a haphazard arrangement of shops and restaurants, buildings and clubs. All of it was connected, from what he understood, together by a series of tunnels, like the one he was currently in. At least, that was all that outsiders knew of the area.

She led him to a room full of clothing and costumes, a veritable melange of patterns and crazy textures. “Choose something comfortable, as you will be seated for quite a long time. Preferably something with a low neckline,” Anne said and chuckled, raising an eyebrow as her gaze skimmed over his clavicle. Nakamaru shuddered in fear that she would accost him again. She did something to him that made him freeze up like a deer in the headlights.

Confused, Nakamaru ran his fingers over pieces of the fabric that were jutting off of the shelves. He lingered on a piece of particularly smooth material that shone in the light like liquid cement. Plucking it off the shelf, he found it was a sleeveless top that fit like a second skin, yet was comfortable and moved with every motion of his body. Coupling that with a pair of loose-fitting dark trousers, the look was a far cry from his conservative tailored suit.

Nodding in approval (especially when she noted that it did, indeed, have a low neckline), Anne grabbed Nakamaru’s wrist and slapped a copper-coloured cuff around it. Grunting in disapproval, he wrested his wrist from her grip and glared. He knew that it had something to do with his visitor status, but he resented her dressing him like he was a child. She could have chosen to have handed him the cuff instead, but Nakamaru knew that she was testing him, trying him to see if he could handle the Haven. Nakamaru thought that perhaps all of this was a sort of initiation, a test to see if he was worthy.

“That indicates your status as an observer only, unless you’d rather I’d indicate your wish to be included in the activities?” Anne chuckled at Nakamaru’s silent resignation and quick shake of his head. She clucked her tongue sadly at his refusal, pursing her lips in a sad moue, and Nakamaru could feel her eyes scanning his now-visible body hungrily.

With a slap on the ass, she shoved him forward towards Junno who caught him easily. Nakamaru found himself face-to-face with Junno, whose eyes held a dangerous twinkle as his hands hooked under Nakamaru’s armpits.

The fabric of Junno’s shirt was similar to that of Nakamaru’s shirt and it was thin underneath Nakamaru’s splayed hands as he fought to regain his balance. Nakamaru could feel the contours of Junno’s chest, his heart beating fiercely and as fast as a race car engine.

“You look great!” Junno chirped and Nakamaru wondered for a second if he had imagined Junno’s earlier sternness. A dangerous flicker of crazy always laid beneath the surface of Junno’s bright eyes, but Nakamaru wasn’t sure if that spark lent itself to strict command.

Junno grabbed his hand, threading his fingers through Nakamaru’s and led him down the hall quickly. Nakamaru was pretty sure Junno was thwarting his inner urge to skip at one point.

How could this be a man who participated in anything remotely shady? He seemed made out of cotton candy, or sunshine and slightly demented rainbows.


Nakamaru couldn’t have been more wrong, he thought as he watched Junno move around the room, setting down implements and testing various leather straps and chains littered around the room. He seemed methodical and almost scientific in the way he pulled on the straps and tested what Nakamaru was pretty sure were electrical devices against his hand, from the way Junno jumped when he pressed them to his palm.

It was much more orderly and familiar in a strange way than Nakamaru had expected.

The Junno of earlier was unrecognizable compared to the man standing before him with a determined expression and a clear tone of voice. With perfect posture, he was even taller, matching Anne in her heels. Shoulder to shoulder, they formed a human wall, covering the figure who was crouching in the corner chained to the wall. He thought he heard a giggle coming from the person behind them, but at this rate, he wasn’t sure if he could trust his judgment, let alone his hearing.

Nakamaru had been led into a small room and told that he would be watching the session through a two-way mirror. “Snacks are in the fridge!” Junno had said, as if Nakamaru were watching a movie, and not a scene of... well Nakamaru wasn’t sure what was about to transpire in front of him.

Of course, out of curiosity he had peeked, and sure enough, there was a variety of snacks from rice balls to pudding to water. There had been a lack of alcohol, and Junno’s early mention of safe words and consensual behavior echoed in Nakamaru’s mind. They were serious about what they were doing.

“Okay, so Nakamaru, as you remember, the safe-word for all involved is red. In this particular scenario, Anne’s in charge of anyone and anything and I’m in charge of Koki, but Koki can say “red” or if he is gagged, he can go “mm mm mm” and we will stop the scene and adjust everything to his comfort and enjoyment,” Junno explained as Anne unchained who Nakamaru now knew as Koki from the wall.

Koki didn’t speak, but looked up at Anne with adoration in his eyes who in return chuckled and ruffled his hair. While Junno and Anne were both striking, Koki was downright beautiful from where Nakamaru sat so Nakamaru was pretty sure he’d be utterly breathtaking up close. He was naked, with his cock bobbing between his legs and slim yet muscled body on full display. Nakamaru couldn’t help but stare in wonder at his slim waist and sculpted well, everything. Koki looked like a statue, hewn out of golden marble. He wasn’t as intimidating as Junno, but he was clearly an active man.

Koki’s eyes were a deep melting chocolate brown and his lips full and sinful. His skin looked pale enough that marks would easily show upon it, soft and untarnished by the sun. He glowed underneath the soft incandescent lights. But his appearance wasn’t the thing that most intrigued Nakamaru about him-- it was the graceful way he moved and the way he looked at Junno. He looked happy and utterly trusting when Junno took the O-ring attached to his collar and pulled him to what was a standing ‘X’ made of black-lacquered wood.

Anne attached his ankles to the lower portions of the cross using what appeared to be fur-lined leather restraints and Koki squirmed, a light and high laugh escaping his lips when Anne poked him in the side, clicking her tongue indulging at his playfulness. Junno took his wrists softly and clicked them into place, the cuffs for the hands matching those for the ankles. Nakamaru thought that Koki looked pretty comfortable for someone trussed up like a turkey.

Slipping a blindfold over Koki’s head, Anne hummed as she motioned for Junno to kneel. “So you see Nakamaru, Junno here, he is what we call in the Haven a switch, sometimes he likes to be in charge, like with Koki, but sometimes he likes to be taken charge of, like right now,” she said, producing a riding crop from nowhere and poking Junno into a corner by Koki.

“I want you to show Nakamaru one of your talents,” Anne said, a smile creeping up on the corners of her mouth. “Show him your endurance while I entertain our guest with how delightfully our little Koki responds to things,” Anne continued slowly. Junno nodded and unzipped the fly of his trousers. Nakamaru gulped at Junno’s size, not surprised that someone so out there and confident had a corresponding size in the pants.

Not that he was too shabby, Nakamaru thought, his hand skimming his cock through his trousers as Junno began to stroke himself slowly, watching Anne as she moved over to Koki. “Now Koki here, he is a true bottom, or submissive as some people like to call them,” Anne said, sliding the riding crop behind Koki and managing a short yet crisp smack on Koki’s backside. Koki squealed and then groaned in pleasure, his cock stiffening as Anne continued to slowly crop him, not hard enough to leave marks, but Nakamaru was sure it must surely sting a bit.

“Now, Koki, what do you want from me,” Anne said, and Koki sighed when she stopped, wiggling his body towards where he thought she stood, a low groan escaping his lips. “I want more Mistress, do something more,” he whined, bucking against the restraints. She smiled and went to the wall, hanging up the crop and searching for something different to tease him with.

Nakamaru found himself admiring the layout of the room, it was splendidly organized, from the tool layout to the furniture placement and colour scheme. Koki whimpered in need, and Anne returned with something that Nakamaru was not entirely sure of the usage of, a spiked wheel that resembled a pizza cutter, blunt ends spread out like spokes.

Koki moved like a dog trying to get off the leash and Anne put him backwards with one hand. “You will have to wait Koki, Junno needs to finish first, remember?” Anne asked, her voice much sweeter with Koki that it had ever been to Nakamaru, Nakamaru noted grudgingly. Koki nodded, worrying his full lower lip beneath his teeth but appearing to listen to the soundtrack of the scene playing out before him.

Junno bit his lip as he watched the scene, increasing his pace to pump away hard at his cock, and Nakamaru found himself mimicking him, freeing his cock from its silken prison, springing free and hard against his palm. Junno had told Nakamaru that nobody could see him, that it was like watching a TV and nobody could witness Nakamaru’s actions.

For the first time in a long time, Nakamaru felt free to do what he wanted to do and at that moment he wanted nothing more than to have Junno come over and place his witty mouth directly around Nakamaru’s hardness, or have Koki stroke him to finish. Anything to bring what was beginning to be a burgeoning problem on the rise to completion.

“You will wait for the signal to let go, Junno,” Anne said and Junno nodded as she brought him to standing. Nakamaru groaned as Junno’s pants fell down and revealed a set of perfectly toned golden legs that Nakamaru had earlier compared to a giraffe’s.

They were about as far from a giraffe as you could get, muscled in exactly the right way, lean and evident of the activity Junno pursued on a daily basis. Moaning lightly, Nakamaru arched his back, speeding up the pace of his strokes. He stopped for a moment when Junno continued, wanting to prolong the beautiful agony as much as possible.

“Fuck,” Nakamaru muttered, giving his hand a rest as Junno stared straight at Nakamaru, somehow, through the window. Nakamaru knew that he couldn’t be seen, so Junno must have some type of crazy sixth sense that led him to be able to find exactly where Nakamaru was sitting at that very moment.

Junno held on until Anne told him “Go” and then he released, the pent-up tension evident in his corded neck and the tendons on the back of his hands. Nakamaru was impressed, because Junno had lasted far more than Nakamaru himself would have been able to in the circumstances that Junno was in. Anne was doing something Junno himself would have killed to be doing, that being a kind of torture all in its own.

He came all over his hand, the viscous pearly liquid coating his slender fingers like a volcano erupting, and Anne nodded in approval. “Have Koki clean you up and then you are on your own, Junnosuke,” Anne said, and pinched Junno’s cheek as she left as he replied with a “Yes, Mistress,”

It was as if a switch was turned on inside Junno. When Anne’s feet crossed the threshold and he was left alone in the room with Koki, it was like the temperature changed inside the room. Standing, he strode over to Koki, towering above him. He removed the blindfold and Koki smiled in happy surprise that Junno was standing there, in anticipation of his turn.

“Koki, here,” Junno said simply, holding his hand in front of Koki’s mouth. Koki’s pink tongue darted out to lathe each slim finger slowly, licking the remnants of Junno’s release off his hand slowly. Nakamaru grunted, not wanting to return his attentions to his cock so soon, but it was throbbing with need as he watched Koki’s mouth suck Junno’s fingers clean.

“Your turn, but not till I say so, okay?” Junno asked Koki and Koki nodded eagerly. Junno leaned in and kissed Koki slowly, their tongues intertwining in a slow and sensual dance that had Nakamaru wondering what it would be like to watch them become even more intimate, the thought sending a jolt of electricity zinging down his spine to pool at the base.

Junno began to stroke Koki’s cock intently, staring into his eyes with every movement. Koki’s hips jerked up as far as they could, standing on tiptoe so he could thrust upwards into Junno’s large hand. They locked gazes, Koki nearly expiring as he waited for an orgasm to overtake him, but Nakamaru could see the need to please in Koki’s eyes. Koki wanted to wait for Junno, no matter what the physical cost.

Nakamaru continued the intensity of his strokes, biting his lip so hard that he could taste blood, the anticipation growing and growing as Koki let out a myriad of sounds from high squeaks to low grumbling groans that made Nakamaru want to let go at that moment.

Junno egged Koki on, flicking his nipples, biting his neck and whispering what Nakamaru could imagine were dirty dirty things into his ear and Nakamaru thought of all the things that Junno could be saying to him.

His inner Junno had him close to the edge, and Nakamaru closed his eyes, seeing sparks dance before him. “Now,” Junno said softly, and Nakamaru flicked his eyes open to see Koki’s hips snap upward, groaning against the restraints with the sheer relief of his release. Nakamaru went over the edge simultaneously, feeling the fire in his belly combust and nearly blind him, the room going blurry for a second.

Sighing, Koki slumped back against the restraints, and Nakamaru similarly melted to the floor. Everyone got cleaned up and changed and Junno went to meet Nakamaru. “So how did you like it?” and Nakamaru responded with just a nod. Junno laughed.

“It’s okay, everybody’s first experience is different but the one thing they all have in common is that they have to sink in and can seem somewhat surreal at first,” Junno said and Nakamaru nodded in agreement.

“Now Yuichi, for safety of the Haven, we are going to send you home in a car, and blindfolded until you reach your home. This is for your sake as well as ours. If you wish to not return to the Haven, that is your choice,” Junno explained slowly and Nakamaru nodded.

“Remember, in the Haven, no one does anything against their will, no matter how it may appear to be to outsiders,” Junno said, smiling softly.

The silky blindfold covered Nakamaru’s eyes and he could see nothing but sheer blackness as Junno carefully ushered him into what felt like a leather backseat, with an almost tender reverence to his actions, treating Nakamaru with kid gloves, as if he could break at any moment.

Nakamaru certainly felt like he could. And suddenly, he felt, so so tired....


It was a rare sunshine morning amid the constant rain the past week. Nakamaru opened his eyes and turned his head away from the glare coming from his open window, listening to morning birds and the hum and blare of traffic outside.

It struck him the moment he moved and he was upright in his bed in the same instant. A dream? What would possess his subconscious to latch onto something that completely absurd? He could see it in his mind’s eye more vividly than any of his other dreams: the graze of Junno’s lithe frame brushing against him, the lilt of his sing-song tones and the fill of the drink in his mouth, the tastes, the scents.

It swept right into him as his fingers clenched on his own sheets. The sight of the young man, fully naked, the chains and the cloaks and the crush of skin. Junno’s smile like a threat. It all welcomed an instant curl in his lower stomach; the sizzling beginnings of arousal.

Nakamaru made a faint sound, drawing his knees up and clutching at his face in a sudden horror. It was real. All real.

He scrambled out of bed, kicking at his blankets as he raced for his bathroom. His hot water ran as he stared back at the haunted expression on his face. The more the memory regrouped right in the forefront of his mind, the less believable it seemed.

He had been dragged into the Haven last night! He had been asked to watch an act so deeply depraved he wouldn’t have been able to name it before this. He had been completely and utterly entranced by it, had touched himself practically to their rhythm, to the sounds the young man had made and the sheen of sweat on his skin.

“Fuck,” Nakamaru said succinctly to his reflection.

He didn’t remember eating anything that morning nor when he got himself dressed and out the door. All he knew was one moment he had been staring at himself, his new morning-after, unfamiliar self, the next he was standing in the firm’s elevator, staring vacantly as the numbers for the floors lit up one by one.

“What happened to you?” Nino said the moment he walked in, causing him to stop in his tracks. Nino’s eyes were regularly sly, but he seemed to have adopted a distinct and careful calculation to his gaze. Nakamaru felt he was being seen right through.

He must have had a wild look about him; he felt it. His tie was loose. He rushed to adjust it as he shook his head stiffly. “Nothing at all. Just ran a bit late is all.”

“You’re early,” Nino replied, a strange smile lifting the corner of his small mouth.

Nakamaru swallowed against his nerves, fingers curling into his palm as he made for his desk. “Yes. Nothing’s wrong, thank you for asking.”

He received an odd look for that one but Nino let him pass. He walked woodenly past Sho-san’s doors-- caught a glimpse of him standing, palms on either side of a spreadsheet as he perused its contents-- and slipped quietly behind his own desk, trying to remember how his normal, non-depraved self used to behave.

No. This was unacceptable. Whatever that may have been the night before, it certainly wasn’t going to happen again.

This could put his job at risk, his life for that matter because if absolutely anyone found out about this, he was done for. They’d dismiss him; he’d be considered a failed project by the government’s Job Assignment Contingent. He had a system in place, his life, the features of it. If he thought for a moment that that man last night had been...

He could just see every piece of his foundation shattering under him. People would say he was mad for liking it, for wanting it even just a little. No. The fact was he didn’t want it. He couldn’t. Absolutely not.

Bearing that in mind, Nakamaru girded up his resolve to, if anything, just work it all out of him.

After all, it wasn’t as if he had any intention of allowing himself to be kidnapped again.

Next part


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August 2012

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