Chapter Text
Electronic eyes captured Joryu’s every movement around Sotenbori, allowing Hanawa to track his whereabouts. It was never a task that took up too much of his day, but as long as he was able to construct a rough flow of Joryu’s day for the daily report that was enough. Nonetheless, Hanawa had been perceptive enough to notice several patterns:
- Joryu wasn’t getting enough vegetables. Sure, he seemed to be getting enough protein to maintain his fighting fitness, but a salad here or there wouldn’t have hurt.
- Joryu maintained a large variety of hobbies. From mahjong to karaoke to Pocket Circuit, he appeared to keep himself occupied while waiting for his next order, which surely was a more productive use of his time than sitting around in the temple all day; Hanawa made a note to request for Joryu to have more time outside of the temple when this job was done.
- Thrice a week, Joryu disappeared into the public restroom at Ashitaba Park, only to remain within for at least an hour at a time. Hanawa had heard of public restrooms serving as disguised gateways to secret gambling dens, but as far as intel went this wasn’t one.
That last pattern was most puzzling of all, and the more Hanawa thought about it the more he was compelled to find out just exactly what Joryu did during that mysterious hour. Naturally, due to the lack of security cameras within the public restroom, Hanawa would have to do the groundwork himself.
It was a Tuesday night when Joryu loitered around the park once again, his image grainy on the security camera footage Hanawa had tapped into. He cracked open a can of beer, and after taking his time to savour it, disposed of it and disappeared into the restroom. Hanawa held on for another minute, watching until another man entered the facilities. Curious.
It was time to go. Hanawa left the hideout and started his walk down Shofukucho, its bright neon lights beckoning to the nightcrawlers who’d flocked there in search of sleaze and booze. But not Hanawa; his mind was set on the mission. He went as brisk as he could without getting out of breath, and when he reached Ashitaba Park for a brief second he worried that he’d arrived too late and missed his mark. In the cramped entrance to the facilities he ran into someone on the way out – possibly the same man Hanawa had spotted on the security footage just minutes earlier. He seemed in high spirits, clapping Hanawa on the shoulder as he passed.
“Guy’s got a real mouth on ‘im,” staggered the man, cigarette smoke heavy on his breath. “Ya really don’t know what’s comin’ till he gets started.”
The meaning of those words missed Hanawa completely, and he was left even more confused than he was before.
The last stall in the row was occupied, with a glimpse of Joryu’s black leather shoes visible under the stall door. Hanawa silently entered the adjacent stall and locked it. What was he to do now? He sat down upon the closed toilet lid, hands atop his knees, taking a moment to observe his surroundings. It seemed fairly normal for a public toilet – no loose tiles indicating the presence of secret doors, nor any hidden cameras indicating a pervert’s lookout as far as he could see – the sole peculiarity about the stall, then, was the hole in the stall barrier. It sat around hip height, wide enough for Hanawa to easily fit his fist through. Combining this new information with what the man on the way out had said to him, there was enough for someone even as inexperienced as Hanawa to connect the dots.
“Oi.” Joryu’s voice sounded from the adjacent stall. “Are you going to get started soon, or…?”
He was caught on the spot with a decision to make – to walk away with his dignity still intact, or to play along and risk being found out by his agent. But Joryu was eager and offering, and admittedly Hanawa was curious; what could possibly appeal so much about pleasuring men in a public bathroom?
Hanawa simply had to see this through to the end. Before he could stop himself he was back on his feet, undoing his belt buckle with shaking, nervous hands. Then was the elastic waistband of his boxer briefs, pulled down to expose his cock. It had yet to harden, but keeping Joryu waiting seemed impolite, so he stepped up to the barrier and cautiously, gingerly fed it through.
Fabric rustled as Joryu got on his knees against the filthy tiled floor – surely his suit would have to be cleaned after – and while there he took some deep breaths, hot and humid against the tip of Hanawa’s cock. Or at least Hanawa thought it was the tip; with the opaque barrier in the way it was simply impossible to predict what Joryu would do to him and where. When the sound of a shorter, sharper breath came, the prickling, heated sensation of it startled him and on reflex his hips jerked, not towards the source of that stimulation but rather, away.
An apology rose in his throat. But at the last moment he was able to prevent it from escaping, saving him from the embarrassment of being known. The silence of the next few seconds was marked by the drip drip drip of water from a leaky pipe, before Joryu spoke up again, his voice deep and stern.
“Are you sure you want this?”
Hanawa did. He did and he didn’t. The experience so far had been disorienting, as if the stall barrier had created a physical disconnect between his cock and the rest of him; meanwhile, he presumed, since Joryu seemed to spend significant amounts of time doing this, that there was some pleasure in it for him. It was plain to see that being shut off from the rest of the world had left him lonely and wanting, and due to his agreement with the faction he was reduced to connections such as this. Anonymous, faceless men, claiming Joryu’s mouth as their own, helping him keep his secrets by stuffing his mouth full. Surely it wouldn’t hurt to try again, even just for Joryu’s sake.
When he pushed himself through again as far as he could go, this time Joryu’s hands were on him immediately, curling around his shaft and stroking. Each pull made his knees weaker, threatening to make him keel over with each tug. Yet, Hanawa would not describe it as pleasurable, even when suddenly the hands left him and he was engulfed by the slippery, wet cavern of Joryu’s mouth. It was just for a mere moment, before he was being stroked again, this time with spit to ease the glide. Faster this time, like Joryu wanted it to be over as soon as possible – but arguably they’d barely begun.
It was disappointing to say the least – mortifying, even – that Hanawa was still as soft as a limpet, his body having stubbornly decided that it would not cooperate. But Joryu kept at it, working on him with a diligence that Hanawa thought to be pointless. He surged forwards, devouring Hanawa whole. Containing all of him within his mouth, sliding the tight ring of his lips all the way down to the base. It was warm, and wet for sure, but the more Hanawa remained within that soft cavern the more he wished to pull out. But clearly, Joryu was not done. He began to bob his head along the length, with the assistance of a few fingers curled around the shaft to keep it steady. The clumsy, stuttering nature of his movements was impossible to avoid due to the lack of proper rigid flesh to close his mouth around, and the suction of his lips made an awful, sloppy sound. The barrier between them vibrated with each enthusiastic downstroke, struck by the tip of Joryu’s nose; there simply was not much length to work with at all. And then there was the flicker and squirm of a slippery muscle against him – while what swirled against him was Joryu’s tongue Hanawa could only think slug .
That wetness, slithering along the underside of his cock, was the last straw. Hanawa’s body reflexively twitched away from the barrier, pulling out from Joryu’s mouth completely. Unlike the last time there was no prompt from the other side; it seemed like a mutual understanding that they were done. It was an unpleasant feeling tucking his spit-slick cock into his briefs, the fabric clinging to him with a cloying dampness. “I’m sorry,” Hanawa apologised, not caring that Joryu would surely recognise him. “It’s my fault for wasting our time here.”
“Come again if you feel like it,” came the stoic response. “Or don’t, if you decide you’re done for good.”
The walk back to the hideout felt far more exposed than the walk from. The lights glared down at Hanawa, turning heads with their laser-like focus. All eyes were on him, reading the shame written all over as plainly as black ink on pure-white paper. Every murmur was a word of gossip, whispering and tittering what he’d done.
No one asked where he’d been when he returned to his desk. If they knew, they were hiding it well; surely later they would mutter when his back was turned. Just then, rang the chime of Hanawa’s phone – displayed on the screen was a notification announcing a new text message from Joryu, which he promptly ignored in favour of the work before him.