Chapter Text
Ichiban adjusts the microphone on his streaming setup, the bolt never quite was tight enough, especially after an exuberant play session.
“Thanks, RoyalePuppy for the tier one sub! Always appreciate it when we get a new person on the channel. I’m close to finding a save point and stopping for the night. Don’t forget to tell your friends and your family that for good games and reviews to come to Ichiban Number One in name, in channel, and in life. The video on how to do some of the trickier builds in Elden Ring will be up at some point Thursday, and the next review episode will be the week after. You’re all great people, love yourself, love your friends! Bye.”
It was 12 AM, which meant that it was time to switch over to his After Hours channel, the one that was far more horny than he ever let himself get on his much more safe for work video game playing channel. More cameras were turned on, and Ichi changes into loose pants and a mesh shirt. Boxes were dragged out from under the desk and arranged to be just off camera, but still in reach.
3...2...1... Let’s Jam.
“Hello Ladies and Gentlemen,” where Gamer Ichiban was shouty and full of laughter that was pushed out of him with abandon, this Ichi was far more sultry. “Nice to see all of you. I got the gifts that some of you sent me, so who wants to have theirs opened first?”
Aoki makes sure the door to his office is both locked and bolted before settling in at his personal computer’s monitors. The housekeeper should be long gone and his personal assistant was headed out the door as he slipped in here with a bottle of port. Bad enough he had to miss the gaming stream, but that was, unfortunately, typical for him most nights. And really, what did he care about some detailed dissection of some stupid game he’d never have the time nor patience to struggle through? It’s more about the voice talking him through it, as cheerful and passionate as if he were speaking to Aoki directly.
It is becoming . . . a problem.
He’d never have stumbled across Ichiban Number One on his own. A happenstance encounter when he’d been stuck suffering through one of his colleagues’ big holiday parties, and when he’d tried to hide in what he thought was an empty side parlor in their mansion to catch his breath and quiet his nerves; someone else’s bored teen had been there, watching the Number One stream. The voice through the tinny speakers of their tablet had arrested him immediately when he thought to backpedal out of the room, so he allowed them to ramble for a few minutes about their love for Ichiban and show off some cute fanart they’d made of Ichiban as various video game heroes: Dragon Quest, Bloodborne, Fire Emblem, Devil May Cry, other names he can’t remember.
“‘Course, he’s also got this other stream. But I’m not allowed to watch that one.” A sly smirk as they watched Aoki for a reaction.
He thankfully had the restraint to wait until he’d returned home to look up what exactly that was supposed to mean.
Aoki loosens the tie that’s been cinched tight to his throat for the past sixteen hours and fumbles the first button at his collar open. He reaches for his port, but stops abruptly when the screen switches on and Ichiban’s figure comes into view. The mesh shirt that perfectly hugs his frame, shimmering and pixelating with a promise of more . . . and of course that voice. He moves the mouse toward the Donate button, but then stops. It’s gift-opening night. And for the first time, he’s sent in one of his own. No. Not just yet. But he can’t resist the urge to make his presence known, all the same, sure at least some of Ichiban’s viewers are starting to recognize his name if not Ichiban himself.
Mr._Blue_99 has gifted 10 subs!
The notification of the gifted subs pops up on the screen, and is expressed to his viewers with a little gif of Ichiban, shirtless, making a heart with his hands. The name has quickly become one of his favorite guests. They were always so generous with their gifted subs and donations. “Aww, thanks Mr._Blue_99. You’re always too kind to the newcomers. Everyone who got a sub, be sure to thank Mr._Blue_99 in chat. and that also determines who’s gift I open first. Can’t let a good deed go unrewarded.”
The gift box is, of course, wrapped in blue paper. How Mr Blue 99 managed to arrange that, Ichiban didn’t know, and didn’t quite care. It is a very deliberate sort of not caring that Ichiban did to try to preserve the anonymity of his viewers for his cam work. He shows off the box to the camera, and opens the note that was on top. He’d read it before the stream so he’d know which to pick up, but everyone expected their notes to be read on stream. Why would they send them otherwise?
“Dear Ichi, I happened to find this, and remembered your story about losing your first copy. Please make good use of it. Mr_Blue_99. Aw, hey, that is so sweet” But when did he talk about losing a game? It wouldn’t quite have come up on his sex stream, and something like that he wouldn’t have put on any of the wish lists. Under the paper is a near mint condition copy of “Kuon”. Ichiban couldn’t help but gasp at what was in his hands. There had only been so many copies and... God this had to have cost a good amount of cash. “Mr. Blue, I don’t know what to say, this is amazing that you’ve found this. Thank you so much! I’ll definitely have tons of fun playing this.”
Aoki bites at the tip of his thumb when Ichiban reaches for the blue-wrapped box. It was certainly a tame gift, he knew, not really the kind of thing Ichiban typically showcases on these . . . “After Dark” streams. But after pacing anxiously in and out of a handful of sex shops (heavily masked, ballcapped, and with his jacket collar turned way up) because he couldn’t trust his secretary with this kind of errand, all the other options seemed so crude.
Of course he’d love to see Ichiban wearing a cock cage, perhaps even one he held the key to, maybe even one that’d leave him crawling on his hands and knees toward Aoki, rubbing his cut-glass cheekbones against Aoki’s thigh, begging him so sweetly for release . . . Aoki drags a hand down his cheek. M-maybe something to work up toward.
Not that there was anything to work toward. He was here, safe in his home office, and Ichiban was—there, wherever he was, the sort of space that no one ever needed to see under black lights.
“I look forward to watching it on the Number One stream, if you choose to.” He types out his chat message in his usual stilted tone, his hands shaking. “Though I’ll make sure my next gift is one we can enjoy here.” Finger hovering over the Return key as his heart races. Deep breath. Then presses it. Aoki adjusts his irritating semi and reaches for more port to drink.
Pressing his pecs between his arms, Ichiban leans forward to read the chat reply from Mr_Blue_99. He hides a laugh behind his hand. “Sounds good, Mr. Blue. I can’t wait for your next gift.” He makes a heart with his thumb and pointer finger and winked for the camera. To an observer, it could feel like he is making the gesture directly to them.
A super chat came through just then, the computerized voice commenting about how good Ichi’s tits looked. It broke the moment, especially since it got Ichiban laughing and re-angling himself so that his chest is the only thing in view of the main camera. He goes through a few of the other gifts which were also somewhat tame. A book, some clothes that Ichiban donned, and a rather pretty necklace that Ichi also put on. But he reacts to none of these gifts like he had reacted to Mr_Blue_99’s surprise of a gift. “We’re rather tame tonight folks, I almost want to apologize.” The last gift though is much more spicy. The box itself is long and thin but inside is a brand new dildo, which looks like a long unicorn horn, with spiraled ridges all the way up to the tip. “This is very nice Squicky Pixie! Thank you! Now we really have something to play. Send me in your suggestions of what I should do with it first.”
Aoki bites the inside of his cheek. The dildo’s considerably cheesier than what he would have chosen, but as the only proper sex toy in the bunch, of course it’s what Ichi’s going to use now, and therefore become the highlight of the stream. Naturally the chat quickly fills up with variations on suggestions of how Ichi should fuck himself with it. But it seems a waste to rush the evening to a conclusion already. Slowly, he types out his suggestion inside a Donation: of 50,000 yen.
Chat’s eager for dessert but I enjoy a nice appetizer myself. Why not make use of those lovely tits and mouth to start us off? His stomach clenches tight. And another 50,000 to throw that cock ring from the previous gift stream into the mix. Enough money to make Ichiban sit up and take notice, to be sure. But not too much—he hopes—to frighten him. Just eager enough while still serious. Still leaving the choice in Ichi’s hands, so to speak. Give us something to really savor.
He tilts his face away as soon as he sends the Donation in and focuses on the silhouettes of trees waving beyond his office window, the distant shush of windchimes, instead of the tinkling notifications of the stream.
Looking through the suggestions, Ichi taps the tip of the horn against his bottom lip. Everyone just wants the finale of him bottoming out on the unicorn horn. A little boring, and he’d get there eventually, but perhaps people needed a bit of direction. Before he could offer up one, in came that whopper of a donation, again from Mr_Blue_99. “Mr_Blue_99 says...” came the tinny electronic voice that read the super chats, detailing the offer, and the chastisement of the chat, which made Ichi throw his head back and laugh out loud.
“Sorry Chat, but Mr._Blue_99 is right. You can’t have any pudding if you don’t beat your meat.” He winks at the camera. “But Mr Blue, you’re also tempting me to break my own Gift Night rules. I usually don’t touch anything from a past gift night. Gotta give all the gifts their due after all. But... maybe just this once. Since you’re being so generous tonight.” With a gesture to wait, Ichiban leaves the camera’s view just long enough to grab that cock ring and come back. With sultry slowness, Ichiban strips his trousers off, rolling them down his hips and ass. Underneath he is wearing a simple jockstrap (easy access while also being somewhat covering). The shirt he is wearing - the gift he just opened that slipped off one shoulder- stayed on. First things first, he needs to get himself excited. Ichiban rubs the horn dildo between his pecs, pressing them all together like a hotdog in a bun, or a cock between a pair of tiny tittes. “Oh, that is a good feeling, there’s ridges on this thing that are going to feel absolutely amazing...” Seeing the little notifications of donations - all more reasonable in size than Mr Blue’s whopper- Ichiban shifts so that he could go lower on the camera, and the horn could lean up against something solid while he gave it a show worthy blow job.
Aoki finally drags his attention back to the stream at the sound of that laughter, so bright and alive, sending a shiver of sunlight down his spine. Tempting me to break my own rules. Oh, how we wants to be tempting. How he wants to reach through the screen and run his fingers down those hard-scrabble cheeks and allow himself every pleasure he’s denied himself for decades upon decades . . . He straightens his shoulders, and carefully pushes his chair back from the desk. As Ichiban starts to rub the dildo between his tits, Aoki brushes his hand over his chest, too, over the white button-down that he’s rolled the sleeves up on to his forearms. Underneath the high-thread-count cotton, a dark nipple leaps up to his touch, but he leaves it be. Lets his fingers play instead over the ridges of the abdomen he’s painstakingly carved from six a.m. training sessions, like the one awaiting him in far too few hours, but how can he possibly care right now?
He stops, though, as his fingers hit the buckle of his belt. No, Ichiban was kind enough to grab the ring. For him. Letting him shape the terms of the night. The delight of it rushes through him, burning away every other stress, every other irritation that awaits him come sunrise. So, as promised, he hits the Donation button again for another 50,000 yen. Only half as amazing as I’m sure those lips must feel. Thank you— He stops himself, eye twitching. Has to remember he shares this amazing sight with hundreds of other viewers, and he must at least pretend to give a shit about them, too. We all thank you for letting us pretend, if only for tonight . . .
But he’s every bit the dreadful liar his opponents accuse him of being. When he finally unzips his fly, he imagines those red, spit-slick lips are for him, and him alone.
The Unicorn Horn dildo is long enough that Ichi can’t fit all of it in his mouth, and it’s stiff enough that he can’t quite deep throat it. The effect, making him choke musically for the camera, has an instant effect on his own cock. The stimulation of what he does to himself on camera, for the audience, is usually just enough to get him up. Tonight though, with cock ring that he is waiting to put on, that extra little bit of instruction and the pushback that he could do against it (light as it was) is sending part of his brain reeling from professional into personal.
He pulls off the horn, saliva making it and his lips shiny, when the other half of his payment comes through from Mr_Blue_99. “Heh, pretend? Don’t kid yourself, this is all real on my end, and all for you.” The phrase is vague enough that the ‘you’ could be read as a general you for the whole chat, or specific for Mr_Blue_99 in particular. He’s erect in his jock strap, and it is more than enough to put the cock ring on. First, he shows off the ring, just to remind people what it looked like, and for the gift’s giver to remember that it was his (Cooking-Daddy-69). He slipped it on under the cloth of the strap. The outline of Ichiban’s erection is quite visible, as is the flat dent where the cock ring was tight over his flesh. Putting on the cock ring is also a good distraction for the chat while he slid out the plug that had been stretching him all day in preparation for this stream.
Next he flips some switches so that a few more cameras are turned on. The main screen is still on him, where he could be seen from the side, lying on his back on the not-quite soft cushion. Two smaller screens boot up, each with their own angles. One concentrates on his face, the other on his crotch and hole, so that those who want to see the penetration get exactly what they need. Licking his lips while he got a layer of lube on the unicorn horn iss a touch performative, but the gasp as he put just the tip in was not.
All for you. Such a cruel taunt, really, and yet Aoki wants so badly to believe it. There’s no reason in the world he should find himself drawn to this younger man and his vastly different life of frivolity and indulgence. Even allowing for the fact that Aoki’s long ago accepted that his preferences run counter to what the vast majority of the Citizens’ Liberal Party would deem acceptable—he’s simply sealed off that part of himself. He had his fun in a few fleeting relationships with men who, like him, could never be public with their wants, and then locked himself away as he shifted his focus to growing Bleach Japan and then his political runs. He’s tried dating a few women over the years because a wifeless politician always faces greater scrutiny, but it felt like the driest, cruelest kind of political negotiation, a cost-benefit analysis between two unfeeling parties. (One even made it to the engagement stage. It was a PR nightmare for all involved when she finally seemed to recognize he could never be the husband she really needed no matter what terms they put to paper.) His secretary has learned to politely decline any such inquiries citing scheduling conflicts.
And then he found Ichiban, and his enthusiasm, his openness, his eagerness for every part of life—no matter how small and inconsequential—has only served to remind Aoki how hollowed out he feels when he’s anywhere but right here.
His throat constricts at the outline of the ring interrupting the smooth bulge of Ichiban’s cock through the thin fabric. When the tip presses into the tight furl of his hole, Aoki’s attention turns back to the camera on his face, and he lets out a shuddering gasp of his own. To see that face gazing up at him, eyes dewy and grateful, as Aoki plucks those sweet noises out of him . . .
Aoki’s hand brushes over his shaft through the fabric of his underwear, but then stops. No. First he needs to ready his next message so he can hit Send on it at just the right time. With an irritated grunt, he shifts the bottle of port so it blocks the incessant scroll of eggplant emojis and exclamations from chat. Anything to break the illusion this is his to enjoy alone. Message typed and readied, he finally grasps his cock in a loose, patient stroke. He may not have Ichi, but Ichi certainly has him.
It’s a performance, not an excuse to get off. Ichiban has to remind himself of that when the cock ring reminds him of its presence. Damn Mr Blue for making this suddenly become far more ... personal.
The stars of Ichiban’s slutty performance are the little things: the way his fingers tighten and his toes curl, the shape of his mouth as he makes breathy moans, the arching of his back and chest. He finds that the ridges on the horn dildo spiral so that you would turn it and it would go deeper while pressing right against your prostate. It makes the penetration just as enjoyable a performance for himself as his audience.
“Oh, if only you could feel this, how deep it goes in me. the edges hit just right in me.” Ichiban’s hips rolled, starting a wave that went all the way up to his head. He was goign to be close, so close, but the ring... Hah... oh, god I’m getting close”
Everything about Ichiban’s body is glorious to behold, especially in those carefully positioned camera angles, the HD footage catching so many little details he’d surely miss in the moment. The sweep of his eyelashes, those gasps that steal Aoki’s breath out of his lungs. Without a ring of his own to help him hold back, he has to regulate his own pace, his heart hammering and his tongue digging against the roof of his mouth. He wants to feel it too. He wants to make Ichiban feel it, just for him. He wants to hold him to his chest, kiss that arching back, unleash every word and feeling he’s never allowed himself to express anywhere else, and watch Ichiban unravel before him.
But first, he can’t resist the urge to remind Ichiban—and the hundreds, possibly thousands he has to share him with—that he exists. He leans up and hits Enter on the first message he prepared, a Super chat. Cheap in the grand scheme of things, really, just a little something to goad him on. Almost a pity to watch you be denied release. But won’t it make it all the sweeter?
Neediness is a good look on you.
“Mr Blue 99 says...” Ichiban chokes. His hips buck sharply. If it weren’t for the cock ring he would have come right then, far before schedule. Even if the stream has been going on for a good hour, and there was only so much more time left, coming right now would be far too soon.
Him coming was the finale, not the climax. ... Despite the name.
Ichi also accidentally shoves more of the dildo in him. Just straight in. “Ahh.. hah, Mr. Blue is feeling feisty tonight folks.” A few more super chats came in, each complimenting Mr Blue for manipulating Ichi like a goddamn puppet or complimenting Ichi for how sexy the surprise and neediness looked on his face. “Cooking-Daddy-69 says: You should kneel, baby, show us if you can bottom out on Squicky Pixie’s gift.”
“Sure thing, my audience’s wishes are my commands.” Ichiban shifts so that he is kneeling, hands braced on his knees and unicorn horn between his feet to hold it steady as he moves slowly up and down it, going further down on each dip.
Aoki smirks. Feisty. Has he ever been called feisty before in his life? Maybe by some crusty old politician, dismayed that he ripped their power base away. But this is . . . something else entirely. For all that Ichi’s show is designed around making each audience member feel like it’s a private viewing all their own . . . The personal callout flutters his pulse in a way that he should know better than to let it. But he doesn’t want to. Just for this hour, he wants to believe.
As Ichiban begins to fuck himself on the horn, Aoki’s jaw tightens, and his hand moves of its own accord. It’s Ichiban he imagines he’s fucking, of course; his dick skewering him open, his hands guiding those hips. But it’s everything else in his life, too, being shattered and unraveled. The late nights and early mornings of negotiating, strategizing, plotting. Each day having to muster up more and more enthusiasm for a platform he found so useful and expedient, once, but which only seems to have left him surrounded with the most insufferable and clueless bores.
He never used to care what he supported; he chose the path surest to bring him power, and it worked beautifully. And he’d do anything still to hold onto that power. But for this brief hour every few nights, it isn’t his power or wealth—well, maybe somewhat his wealth—that brings him the greatest satisfaction. It’s the torment of something he craves but can never have—affection, attention, adoration, all from one man overflowing with life—so tantalizingly close and forever out of reach. His balls tighten and a single groan swells in his chest.
He hits Send on the 100,000-yen Donation before he’s fully lost in release. Only the best for our Number One. You’ve earned your sweet release. And it’s crossing a line, he knows, but it’s far too late now to erase: A pity we can’t hold you through it and kiss your hair . . . and make you take it all over again.
“Mr_Blue_99 says-” Maybe the other audience members wouldn’t notice it, maybe. Maybe they would, and if they did hopefully Mr Blue especially would notice it.
Ichi releases the cock ring when Mr Blue said he had earned release, and near instantly he came. There is a visible spurt against the cloth of his jockstrap and some leaks out the cloth.
“Hahh... hahh... Well. Maybe not tonight, but I have a special announcement to make today.” Ichi reaches behind him and slowly twists the horn out of his ass as he speaks. There are a lot of delighted chat comments and small donations for the extra after climax imagery.
“So, ever since I started there have been several of you who, especially in recent months, have been more generous to me than I could ever thank you for on a regular stream. So, my top three donors from last month will be getting emails with a special gift from me to you. Details will be in those emails, so keep an eye on your inboxes over the next week. If you aren’t one of the top three, but are on my patron list, you will be getting a free month this coming month. Thank you all so much. I am so honored to be at your service.” He kowtows to the main camera and a few seconds later the cameras turn off and his thank you and good night place holder image went into place.
Aoki is usually completely silent, impatient and irritated even, when he cums. But the stain that spreads on Ichiban’s jockstrap sparks something more primal in him. Possessive. It was his words that put that ring on his cock, and his words that made him release it just the same. He climaxes with a dark growl, sparks dancing behind his eyes, and the afterimage of Ichiban’s gasping face seared into his mind. A face he wants to ruin, and ruin him, much the same. For a brief, hazy moment, he lets himself indulge fully in that fantasy: kissing away the sweat and tears and spend from Ichi’s face, his body, his thighs. Pulling him into his arms—and have Ichi hold him, too. Cherishing and being cherished. No need for subterfuge.
It’s a safe, impossible fantasy to retreat into, one wholly separate from any of the myriad realities of his life. And yet again, it’s over much too soon.
—A special gift from me to you. Aoki sits up, unsure if he’s still lost in fantasizing. Wait. What had he said? Top three donators? Surely he must be one of them. He’ll admit, he does like to flaunt his wealth somewhat in the streams. It’s the surest way to make his presence known, and selfishly, he likes to think that he—or, well, “Mr. Blue”—is somewhere in the depths of Ichi’s thoughts as he pleases himself. There’s Cooking Daddy, of course, but he mostly chimes in with snarky commentary via the Super chats, no massive donations. A few other names he’s come to recognize. What kind of gift could it be?
But he can’t get his hopes up. Ichiban has to stay locked away on his computer screen, in his home office, private browser, shells upon shells of accounts for his gold card. And now he has to haul himself to his empty oversize bed in a too-big home and try to sleep a scant few hours before the world comes clawing for him again. Maybe he’ll let himself look forward to the inevitably disappointing email all the same.
From: Ichiban Holdings
To: [redacted]
Subject: Top Three Donor Gift
Dear Mr. Blue 99, You are the the top donor to the After Hours 18+ Stream. In honor of your overwhelming support I am offering you a once in a lifetime opportunity to have a private After Hours 18+ Stream. The first stream is a gift from me to you, and will not include any monetary transactions.
Use the link here: [link] to arrange the time for your gift. Once again, thank you so much for your support, and I hope to continue to have your support in the future.
Ichi.