#the other version of this AU has Shiraishi unwittingly getting himeslf tangled in this mess as just a normal person | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

waterlinkedgirl · 5 years

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‘Let's hope the complementary AU won't become a drabble even though I thought of this one first,’ is what I said, but at 5613 words this really is halfway to being written. Emphasis on halfway. This was meant as basically just an outline for a fic because I was too busy to actually write it (I really am, actually >.>), but uh. It started leading a life of its own. The first part or so is as its purpose and in tweets so the formatting might be a bit odd but

Basically this is half outline, half drabble, only one round of editing so it’s really rough on the edges, R-17, ShiraYuki mafia x stripper/assassin also roommates AU Both of them (especially Yukimura) are manipulative bastards and there’s elements of forced intimacy at times so if that squicks you, please proceed with caution.

Shiraishi is a normal stripper to the public eye, under the name of Poison Ivy (or Nightshade or something of the likes) but the criminal circuit, Yukimura head of Rikkai’s mafia included, knows better.

He's a traceless, mysterious, independent assassin, with poisons as his expertise (though rumours go they don't even make half of his murders), an incredible asset, but only if you win his favour. Those are the rumours. But fact is, nobody has ever seen him in the body.

The only thing they know of him is that he works through various strip clubs over the region, that you should leave a message with a generous donation to unravel someone's bandage- (there are many, too many with bandages to count) and you might find your job cleared, or declined.

Needless to say, Shiraishi is rather surprised when Yukimura approaches him, as nothing in the way he holds himself tells him he came here to watch him undress. "You have some killer thighs," he says nonchalantly, handing him a folded bill.

He catches it between his lips, and when he unfolds it, a familiar petal falls from the paper. Then, an imperceptible caution finds its way onto his face, Yukimura notices. He smiles. "You'll meet me after work." "I don't meet clients after working hours." Yukimura chuckles.

"You'll take your bandage off for me and hand it over," he whispers. "You won't refuse, will you?" Shiraishi smiles at him. "That'll depend on your offer." Yukimura nudges towards the bill. "Think about it." After all, Yukimura finds, he can't refuse.

Shiraishi waited for him in the alleyway, as he should. "What is your offer?" he asks. Not 'Who are you,' or 'Why did you approach me,' or 'For 9000 I'll fcuk you into Heaven.' No useless questions, no playing dumb, Yukimura notes, pleased. "I want you, Shiraishi."

"Your reward is handsome, moreso than any other would offer," Yukimura says, playing a card between his fingers. Both of them knew it wasn't about the money, at all. "You will live in with me, eat my food, and sleep under my roof." Yukimura leaned in. "You will be safe with me."

With Yukimura's knowledge about his identity, the way he'd tracked him down, he was left with no choice. After all, Shiraishi had no clue how many people his data went by. Even if he killed Yukimura, it would do him no good. Shiraishi was his. "...I accept."

Shiraishi took in a breath. "I accept, if you protect my rule." "Rule?" Yukimura's instincts sharpened. Shiraishi was in no state to negotiate here. "That you won't touch my body for your physical gratification." That, is the rule he would wager his life on? He smiled. "I won't."

It's immediately obvious this isn't where Yukimura lived. The apartment was too white, too... impersonal for that. Still, it'll have to do, Yukimura thinks. Supervision was vital, as was creating familiarity, no, dependency, obedience. Shiraishi's poisonous plants would stay out.

It would grow in time, he thinks to himself as he watches Shiraishi chew his bread-- Shiraishi seems susceptible enough. They sleep in different beds, in the same room. [if I were writing a fic, I'd be telling myself to do some roommates shenanigans here.]

Going out was a different matter all on its own, solved by proximity and communication. Shiraishi was good at blending in, true, but letting him come to meetings... He settled on passive monitoring and keeping him occupied in times of need. Drugging, would harm their bond.

Probably, as his first assignments, Yukimura has him cut off his last ties first, to force his unequivocal loyalty. He's there with him, no, he guides him, not for his capabilities, but to remind him of his involvement. Every time, he cooks him dinner afterwards.

Yukimura wasn't fond of assassinations or any of the kinds, but fact stood that in order to have a healthy garden, weeding was necessary. Weeding, as well as pruning and bugkilling, placing traps, and thorough observation. He'll point Shiraishi where to cut, and where to bother.

Yukimura has communication with the ones below him, of course. Phone calls, mails, messages. The encryption is Yanagi's, at least its base. It had taken him weeks to crack, after which he devoted another month perfecting it. Nobody but him knew and understood the full decryption.

The verbal code was of his own devise. Illogical, personal, effective. He hadn't devised one for Shiraishi, yet. He might want to eventually, but it would come with the trust, in higher-profile and less-contact assignments.

Shiraishi proves himself to be very efficient, a more than intelligent asset he discovers when Shiraishi challenges him to a game of chess. It was said that you could read into someone's personality by the way they played. Into Yukimura's? No. But Shiraishi was interesting.

Methodological, clever, but sly and prepared to take risks. That was his assassin's method as well, and he knew that thoroughly by now. Ever mysterious, funny, fickle, serious. Shiraishi mentioned a detail about the plant of a poison this case, before he knew it, he'd been hooked.

Yukimura had never planned on their relationship being simply subordinate and master. His hold didn't work that way. But friends... The longer the days passed, the more comfortable he seemed to feel. Shiraishi was a natural smooth talker, obviously, but beyond that, amiable.

He decides that having plants in their apartment was perhaps a reasonable addition, after all, when he sees Shiraishi's eyes light up talking about taking care of them and their poisons.Keeping his garden lively and thriving was his priority. However, as time passed, Yukimura noticed a family of weeds, growing vividly in small, persistent patches. It was an eyesore, and a worrisome one, as well.

Removing them would leave the soil vulnerable and at risk, a round of herbicide might damage his own plants. Yes, it'd been occupying his thoughts, even weighing down on him. However, Shiraishi seems to have noticed his worry. "Is there something wrong?"

He supposes that it does concern him, with Shiraishi's involvement as his gardening tool. Yukimura sighs, and decides to tell him of the situation. He'd only give him the necessary context, without metaphors or code. He could be of help, even if it ended up just as a listening ear.

He surprises Yukimura when, after hearing him out, he advises him for a systemic approach. It wasn't just advice, no, on top of it being rationally sound it was solid and good. Shiraishi didn't know it, he didn't have the information, but handling things like would be beneficial to Yukimura in a different way as well.

"Thank you, for your advice," he says, genuinely grateful for a change. It wasn't often that he found himself like that, usually people were thanking him with their lives. Shiraishi smiles. "You're welcome. If you ever want me to think with you again, don't hesitate. I'll be there." He'll be there, huh. However, whether he'd confide in him again was entirely up to whether Yukimura was willing to put that trust in him once more.

It turns out that was more often than he'd initially thought. Shiraishi was intelligent and logical, he knew that, but he was confirmed in it when he posed him with a few minor but troublesome problems. Occasionally, Yukimura would give him a hypothetical problem to test him, or a past decision he made. He was delighted when he came to the correct conclusions, surprised when he approached the problem from another angle Yukimura hadn't thought of. Shiraishi was becoming a greater asset to him than the extremely capable assassin he took in, and Yukimura couldn't help but smile inside himself.

Which is when Yukimura decides he wouldn't make meetings a hassle again. Shiraishi was excellent in keeping low profile, hence, he'd let him come in the guise of a waiter. He wouldn't be allowed to speak, but he would allow him to listen. And Yukimura would watch. He'd always been an expert at reading people, and as long as he's known Shiraishi, his opinions would be clear as day, hidden in imperceptible signals in his breath, his posture, his eyes.

Yukimura finds he has no regrets doing so.

One night, he finds himself awake, the silhouette of a sleeping Shiraishi having caught his eye. He can't remember when he woke up, or why, or even how long he'd been observing him, but... Blankets sparsely strewn over his body, breaths languid, moonlight over his slightly toned skin, Yukimura can't deny it's aesthetically pleasing. His posture is messy, as is his hair, his midriff bared and muscled. Shiraishi is peaceful when he sleeps, he notes. Defenseless, even. He supposes that had been different, back in the beginning. Oh, how the times had changed. Against all odds, Shiraishi had become more than a forcibly assimilated assassin, his friend. He didn't just want him. He wants to keep him. By chance, he remembers the spark in Shiraishi's eyes when he talked about his hobbies. Maybe he could... indulge himself for a bit in them, as well. And for the first time in what felt like centuries, Yukimura takes out his sketchbook from the nightstand.

[If I were writing I'd tell myself to write in the conspiracy plot and some foreshadowing. It's Shitenhouji, coming in because they haven't heard from Shiraishi in much too long (not since Yukimura made him cut off his connections). Shiraishi catches wind of this at one point because he's hacked the Yanagi-Yukimura encryption, and from his knowledge of Yukimura's personality has learned how the verbal code works.]

Yukimura one day wakes up early enough to watch Shiraishi doing his yoga routines. Yukimura asks if he minds him sketching him while he holds his pose, Shiraishi doesn't mind at all. The conversation flows to Shiraishi's ex-part time job as a stripper, and that he was quite good, from what Yukimura had seen of him.

"Thanks," he laughs, "I guess that comes easier when you're having fun." This takes Yukimura a bit aback. "You did it for fun?" "Yeah. I like the exercise, as well. Do you know how many muscles you use when working the pole?" A lot, he guesses. "If it's about exercise, if you want, I can fetch you a pole somewhere." "You'd do that for me?" Yukimura smiles gently. "Of course. You're my friend, after all."

"Shiraishi. You'll have to forgive me if I let my body have its natural reaction," Yukimura tells him when he watches Shiraishi lightly finger the pole after doing his warming up. "It's good. Actually, that might be even better." "Oh?" "I like it when people enjoy what they see. So if you could enjoy it, it'd make me very happy." Yukimura hums. "Don't hesitate to get hard," Shiraishi winks at him. Yukimura laughs. "You'll have to try a little harder than that, Shiraishi." Yukimura's just leisurely watching Shiraishi do his pole exercises, heat rising in his body and Yukimura letting it within boundaries, when, after a remark from Yukimura questioning Shiraishi's fondness for laying himself bare, a certain tension snaps. Shiraishi gets off the pole in one fluid motion and walks over to where Yukimura is sitting, with fire in his tread and desire in his eyes.

Yukimura clutched the chair when Shiraishi unbuttoned the first few buttons on the side of his shirt, teasingly pulling at it to reveal his collarbone. "Shiraishi, what are you..." "You wanted me to try harder, no?" He was only getting started. He had challenged Shiraishi, lit a fire under him. Very well. That didn't mean he'd make it easy for him.

Shiraishi slid in his lap, one leg over his left and the other over his right, letting the gap of his shirt fall to reveal his shoulder. His clothes are loose, hardly revealing, which made the peeking of skin as they were loosened all the more desirable. Until Shiraishi lets his hand run over his chest, lingering along the lines of his groin to tug his pants down, that is. That, was revealing. Hands on the sides of the chair, leveraging the rolls of his hips when they buck forward, movements sure and smooth. Closer, ever so slightly closer, until he closes the distance by overlapping his crotch with his.

Yukimura clutches the edge tighter when Shiraishi smirks at him, and he smiles back calmly despite the searing sense of arousal rising in his chest.

At which Shiraishi leans forward provocatively, throwing his exposed shoulder in the game, midriffs melding together in an extremely sensual grind. Shiraishi's arms come to lean loosely over the back of his chair, breaths mingling with his as a shiver travels up Yukimura's spine. Did Shiraishi ever do lap dances for others? Table dances, he could see, but--Lips connect. What...? In the electricity of the moment, Yukimura almost forgets to breathe, thoughts easily shifting into total disarray. Shiraishi's hips slide along his groin as his lips slide slowly along his. Shit, it feels good.

With the maddening touch of his lips, the sweet taste of Shiraishi's kiss-- Yukimura inadvertently tilts his head a bit to taste more of it-- the heat falls and rises in his body. Shiraishi kisses him again, draws a soft sigh from his lips as he leans in deeper in tandem with the rhythm of his hips. Eyes closed, dazed, when Shiraishi pulls back before he'd kiss him again, he manages to breathe "What happened to your rule...?"

Shiraishi pauses and pulls back, eyes locked with Yukimura's. When he sees the look in his eyes and feels the throb of his body longing to have his lips back on his again instead, he almost regrets asking. "I thought... maybe it'd be okay if I broke it, since it's my own rule, but..." Shiraishi almost looks guilty, shoulders tensing up as his head lowers along with the volume of his voice, "But if you don't want to..." Shiraishi's nose strokes his cheek when Shiraishi's lips trail away from his, down, along his chin and tilting his head down when he lightly caresses Yukimura's cheek with his own.

Oh no you don't.

Yukimura puts his hand to his head and his arm to Shiraishi's back and steps forward, taking advantage of Shiraishi's position in his lap to topple them over and pin him to the ground as he forces Shiraishi's lips open. One hand lowers to his cheek, gently letting his fingers stroke it as his elbow presses his arm to the floor, his other hand pinning his other down. In a single second, his tongue enters Shiraishi's mouth to French-kiss him deeply. His strokes are heated and slow, interspersed with deep breaths and pants as he drives Shiraishi's tongue out from its hiding place. Tilting his head with no choice but to let him in, Shiraishi mewls softly. It's beautiful. He pulls himself further up Shiraishi's body, closer, moans indulgently as everything, everything melts away in the small sea of pleasure roused by the touch of his tongue and the taste of bliss.

Sensing no resistance, he reaches up to unbutton the rest of Shiraishi's shirt.

It was all he could do not to startle when a gunshot and the shattering of glass rings through his ears. In a split second, his eyes dart from the rain of window glass to the figure on the balcony, to the still smoking nozzle when he collapses without further notice. An assassin. He lets go of Shiraishi's arm, leaves himself to sit upright on top of his legs, breathing slowly to hold down the adrenaline and the fire attempting to sway his reason. Shiraishi puts the gun in a more comfortable place than the sleeve he took it from and moves away from Yukimura's legs. 'Shiraishi is not a prostitute,' ghosts through Yukimura's mind. He doesn't sell his body. All of this had been an-- "You're a good actor, Yukimura," Shiraishi says. Because to him, it had been just that, only an act. To Yukimura...

He could have killed him. Shiraishi could have killed him.

"Thanks," he manages. Of course he's only acting. "It's more convincing if you leave your body to do its thing, after all." Shiraishi stretches out his hand, and forcibly discarding his hesitation, Yukimura takes it and pulls himself upright. His hand is warm and gentle, and Shiraishi lets go only slowly, fingers slowly sliding over and out of the palm of his hand as he looks at Yukimura's roused state.

"It's my win, though." Despite everything, Yukimura laughs. It should have been his... It would have been his. No, he'd already thought it was his the moment the subject of Shiraishi pole-dancing came up. And yet... Shiraishi's eyes run over Yukimura's shape once more, mouth curling in a triumphant smirk. He never wanted to steal Shiraishi's sight more, after all, he's embarrassingly hard. The best he could do is stay calm.

Shiraishi closes his eyes briefly and walks away to inspect the balcony. "That's a mess. The only way in which this would have been more of a pain to clean up is if he'd fallen off the balcony." "It's fine. I'll call Jackal and Yagyuu to take care of the scene. Niou will take care of the window and the coverup." "I see. That'd be a great help." Yukimura steps closer, pauses, watching the wind graze Shiraishi's hair, the dimly lit silhouette of his back glimmer in the light of the night. Finally, he opens his mouth.

"Why did you let your no-touch rule go?" Shiraishi turns to face him, tucks a strand of hair behind his own ear. "You should know, shouldn't you?" He smiles, whispers softly. "I'll protect you with my life." And Yukimura knew, from the smallest hints in his posture and the intricacies of his tone of voice, that no word of it was lied.

His heart stirs, heat rising again from the tingling in his stomach to his cheeks as he has to catch himself before he'd reach out to cup Shiraishi's cheek and hold him. And for the first time, he feels unsafe.

He knows what it is to feel attraction for someone. Yukimura's loved by many, it's what he instils, and at times this causes his body to react beyond the trust and connection he finds to be beneficent.

Controlling his emotions, however, had always been his forte. He's never let his attraction cloud his judgement, lead his actions. He knows how it is to be cruel to someone dear to him, and never has he not been able to see when it worked in his favour, socially or otherwise. He knows when it's necessary to be forgiving.

However, right now he once more lies awake at night, Shiraishi's memory filling his mind every time he attempted to drift off to the land of dreams. Ridiculous, he thinks it. It overcame him at random times, when he was cooking, tending to their plants, even when he saw the cold in his eyes when they'd plotted the demise of another hopeless assassin. When it had been anyone else he'd let it happen, in no danger of making less sensible decisions. He'd never lost himself like he did when he kissed Shiraishi. Never. And worst of all...

The feeling of Shiraishi kissing him replays in his mind once more, in all the detail his dazed mind can muster. He shouldn't put his focus on it, no matter how much that voice in the back of his head begs him to. If he does, he fears his foothold will be swept away from under him with no turning back. He feels the touch of Shiraishi's nose and cheek caressing his own, sees the vulnerability in his eyes again. It's maddening, maddening even as he once more attempts to resist the one thing that had made him snap in the first place. He curses under his breath.

Shiraishi has poisoned him with his kiss and his act.

Digging with his nails in his arm in an attempt to get a hold of himself, he rolls over. Calm down, Seiichi... Just... He breathes in, breathes out in a slow rhythm, in through his nose, out along his palate, sinking deeper into the ocean with each passing breath. He'd find a way to vanquish it. He'd find a-- The image of Shiraishi ties his tongue with his and derails his thoughts.

Grabbing his pillow, he vainly tries to fight back his unconscious as the rising and falling of his chest slips away from his control. How he wishes he could sleep a dreamless sleep for once... He's weightless as Shiraishi embraces him, even as his body attempts to brace himself against the bed, with Shiraishi's kisses as his lifeline. He's drowning.

And in a moment, sharper than the others, he can hear self-satisfaction in Shiraishi's breath.

If I were writing this this is where the conspiracy plot would have come to its culmination, starting off with Yanagi noting there's been unrest and advising Yukimura to be safe. Ofc the number of people coming after Yukimura is foreshadowing for that 😜 Which is when he makes his personal rounds, passing by his members one by one to disarm them for him. Yanagi warns Yukimura about an information leak. Yukimura supposes it's time for a round of rain to chase the worms from hiding. And boy, do the worms come from hiding.

When the time comes the worms wage war against his garden, he leaves matters in Yanagi and Sanada's capable hands, when Shiraishi urges him to find a secluded place should people have come to discover his whereabouts. ...I mean that'd be the logical course of action I think but the whole convo thereafter taking place in their own kitchen is also a really good image, so flip a coin I guess!

After a bit of struggle they find a place where they know nobody would just find them. "Hey, Shiraishi do you--" He doesn't get to finish his sentence when Yukimura grabs the wrist holding the gun pointed at him. Shiraishi doesn't wait a second pulling Yukimura along with his hand and trying to aim for his neck with his fingers, but Yukimura is quicker as he twists Shiraishi arm and moves aside to evade it. It isn't long before they find themselves pushing against each other, struggling for control.

In raw power, Shiraishi would win, he knew.

He steps sideways, using Shiraishi's power to pull the two around and despite a moment of wobbling resistance, to put him in a lock. "Shiraishi. Will you tell me what this is?" Shiraishi tries to break out of Yukimura's hold, but Yukimura twists his arm a little further, eliciting a small yelp.

One second of desperation, before Shiraishi sweeps his legs against Yukimura's and turns the two around again, but Yukimura wouldn't give him the freedom of giving up his own arms. He pulls Shiraishi's over his head, pulls them down and leans forward, gaining back his balance. Shiraishi is vicious, however, and bites him in the neck. He manages to keep his hold on Shiraishi's wrists, but that split second was enough for Shiraishi to turn them against each other and free himself. This time, it's Yukimura between him and the kitchen counter. But he wouldn't give in, no.

He looks Shiraishi in the eyes, and for a second he can see him falter, shiver. The gun drops to the floor. Thigh squeezing between his legs, lips on his. Shiraishi puts his hand on the small of his back and disturbs his footing. The counter as leveraging point, his feet off the ground, hips against his.

He's trapped.

"You wanted me to tell you what this is all about?" "You purposefully lured me into here," Yukimura says as flatly as he can manage, after that kiss and with Shiraishi's thigh to his crotch. "That I can understand. But I can't wrap my head around why." Shiraishi smiles, when it flashes into his mind. "You knew when we'd..." "Yeah, I planned it. Have been for a while, to be honest, but only now did I get my first and final chance to."

His mind is in disarray as Shiraishi's words clash with the image of reality he'd painted. A shadow of self-doubt creeps into his mind. It couldn't be that he'd misread a lie as truth? No, that can't be...

"How long was this your plan?" “Do you know who it was that leaked my information to Mouri?” From... the beginning... Shiraishi had thrown himself into the lion's den with the intent to pin him down here from the beginning... But no matter what, he couldn't have planned this. He didn't have the info...-- "How, did you know...?"

"Who do you think the worms came for infesting your garden?" His eyes widen as his mind rushes to piece through the meanings of this new information. "You cracked Yanagi's code," he manages, to begin with. "I have, for a while. Though," he laughs, "you have no idea just how many weeks it cost me to even get a hang of it. It came in handy when you wanted to ask me for advice... I'm glad you took to listening to me." Advice, that he couldn't do without. Shiraishi, that he couldn't do without. Shiraishi starts stroking his cheek, and there's nothing he could to do stop himself from leaning into it. From wanting more.

“I need you,” he whispers, as Shiraishi’s betrayal sinks into his mind. “I know.” He crumbles as the feeling rises in his body. “You could destroy me...” Shiraishi kisses him. “I already have.” He clutches Shiraishi's shoulder when Shiraishi makes their lips meet again. God, it feels good... He can't let this happen now, for fear of his life. Shiraishi is just as dangerous as his plants, he thinks to his grief. He'd poisoned him, and is now coming to seal his fate with his kiss of death. Shiraishi had been acting, not to deceive the assassin, but to plant this seed in him. And yet, there's many things that don't add up. He manages to tilt his head away to speak.

“I don’t understand… With that knowledge you could have murdered me and whoever knew about you long ago…” "The gun's not loaded." "Huh...?" “I was planning to kill you at first. Though when I got to know you better, that easily faded away. I guess in the end, your plan didn’t fail... But neither did mine.” Shiraishi smiles. The heat rises to Yukimura's cheeks. "It was not an act," he whispers in disbelief. Shiraishi had fooled him, not because his ability to read people was faltering, but because he hadn't had the intent to lie for even a single time. "I told you before, didn't I? I don't sell my body. When I kissed you..." he locks twistingly sincere eyes with his, "it was because I wanted to."

He leans in close again, moving a strand of hair from Yukimura's face. "I love you." The hairs rise in Yukimura's neck. Shiraishi lowers his head. "...It's a shame I had to off one of my own to protect you, though." "'One of... my own'?" Damn, it's getting harder to keep his voice straight. "So you staged this?" "Well, it wasn't on purpose. Turns out my men have an agenda of their own, trying to get me back. But knowing your operation really helped."

Yukimura breathes.

“Who are you?” Beside himself, he couldn’t help but ask the stupid. ”Shiraishi Kuranosuke, head of Shitenhouji, the Kansai region's mafia. Qualified assassin, part-time stripper, up until I caught you."

God...

“Why did you approach me?” “Honestly, I was attempting to thin out Rikkai and weaken it. Your position here is really valuable, you know? And in the confusion, the desperation, I’d aim for your head. But Rikkai was much more powerful than I’d thought. You..." he traces Yukimura's chin, "were much, much more powerful than I thought. I wanted to get closer and slowly gain your trust... How could I have known what to do when you just handed it to me? When you saw through every single one of my insincereties... I didn't expect you to find my last ties, either. But it's fine this way. If you'd done exactly as I planned, I wouldn't have wanted you."

God, Shiraishi...!

He breathes in. "Can I--" fcuk you into Heaven? Swallowing the sentence on the tip of his tongue, he fixes it to a different one. Breathing disrupted, he's played for a fool, only asking useless questions. He reaches for Shiraishi's cheek. “Can I make you an offer?” Of which this one the most foolish, most useless of them all.

Shiraishi laughs as Yukimura has no choice but to willingly play to his wants. "Let me guess..." He kisses Yukimura's neck, moves his lips to his ear. "You want me," he whispers, biting softly into the lobe of his ear. "So do you," Yukimura purrs back, as he lowers his hand to trail down Shiraishi's neck. Shiraishi chuckles lowly.

“Your reward will be handsome, moreso than any other would offer…” Yukimura’s hand slides over his chest as Shiraishi holds him off balance with his arm at his waist. He hums, gently listening to Shiraishi's proposal.

“You'll live in with me, eat my food, and sleep under my roof. " Yukimura smiles. "Don't you mean, my roof?" Shiraishi's thumb grazes his lips when he holds his chin. "Are you in any place to negotiate here?" Yukimura nudges his head up. "I wonder." Shiraishi smirks. "How does our roof sound?" Yukimura's smile curls wider. "It's a pleasure working with you."

He wraps his arms around Shiraishi's back and pulls up to kiss him. Shiraishi's only shy in the first second, before their lips melt together, lightly. A short pause, a breath, before their lips meet again in a deep, deep kiss. Shiraishi moans softly when their lips slide against each other, indulgently, liberated. Another kiss, when he tilts his head to give him the space he needs. It's as if he'll never be able to taste enough. That's fine with him, really. Really...

Yukimura pulls Shiraishi closer, his tongue going over Shiraishi's upper lip. It's a warning, nothing more as his tongue rushes to meets with Shiraishi's in a frenzied tango.

Shiraishi attacks, leans forward and manages to draw out an unexpected noise with a strike of his tongue. It isn't long before Yukimura turns his efforts against him as he tilts his head slightly. Who said that he'd just let him?

Yukimura chuckles, tightens his hold as he slows down Shiraishi's pace. He can feel Shiraishi tremble, but right how he wants it, he hasn't given up. His hand sneaks behind Yukimura's head, burying his fingers in his hair. Shiraishi's tongues are passionate but faster. More aggressive than his sensual strokes, but just as greedy. Yes, this is it.

An uneven rhythm, interspersed with pants and breaths as they vie for dominance.

He'll never be safe again, and he loves every second of it.

The door busts open. "Let him go!" is the unanimous call. Multiple footsteps enter the room, the sound of guns being readied. Yukimura holds up his hand mid-kiss, knows Shiraishi to do the same. "It's good." he breathes out, concealing his panting, "Don't shoot." Shiraishi pulls himself upright with a hum, and with Yukimura's arms around his back, so he pulls Yukimura. "Thanks."

Yukimura lets his eyes go over the heads in front of him. Some of them were new additions-- Shiraishi's men--, some of them his. Yukimura laughs. Aren't you loved as well? In the flash of a moment, he changes his aura. Still at gunpoint, Yukimura walks over to whomever Shiraishi held his hand up to.

"Oshitari Kenya," he says, voice sweet as he steps close and his hand slides around the hand holding his weapon. "Will you drop your gun?" After a moment of his gaze, connected to his collapsing eyes, Kenya's gun easily clatters out of his hand.

It only takes a glance from him for the rest of both Shiraishi's and his men to do the same. "Thank you."

He flashes a smile at Shiraishi, who has to swallow a bit at the sight. "See? You were my only danger."

He turns around again, projects his voice to those present. "We will be working together with Shitenhouji, as one and on equal grounds. Both parties are to see this as an expansion of their turf." Shiraishi hugs him from behind, Yukimura takes to stroking his cheek, and with amusement Yukimura watches the shoulders of everyone present to tense. "Yukimura and I will lead you together." Yukimura chuckles. "You know what this means for you, right?"

There are none who could question their power. He knows, from Rikkai's side, that they could have nothing but respect for the man freely embracing his shoulders. Of course, Yukimura forcing Kenya's hand, everyone's hand simply with his presence should have made an impact as well.

On top of that...

"This means nationwide dominion, right, Seiichi?" Yukimura smiles at Yanagi. "Exactly."

From Shiraishi's side, they know that Shiraishi's plan both failed and succeeded, and that only Yukimura is to blame for that. "Shiraishi..." Kenya starts. "I'm glad to have you back. We half thought you were done for." "I'm glad to be back too. Though, done for?" "Done for," Yukimura repeats, "couldn't be further from the truth. Right?" Shiraishi lightly rubs his cheek against Yukimura's, and a glimpse of the future makes its way into Yukimura's mind.

"Yeah. We're only getting started."

#prince of tennis #shiraishi kuranosuke #yukimura seiichi #shirayuki #Water's writings #bonus:#Yanagi Renji #because he's important #can you tell I never have any idea how to finish a fic #this would be a lime on the citrus scale right #can you tell I enjoyed the garden metaphors #man Shiraishi and Yukimura are both utter bastards in this but it was really fun to write #Shiraishi shows one (1) sign of vulnerability and Yukimura just LOSES it it's beautiful #Yukimura lowkey has mind-manipulation powers in this but tbh that's how I like him best #I'm laughing this Yukimura apparently really has the hots for powerful people so when Shiraishi just effing dominates him it all devolves in #the other version of this AU has Shiraishi unwittingly getting himeslf tangled in this mess as just a normal person #he even gets trained by Yukimura!

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