Chapter Text
The plum tint slides over her bottom lip, and Goromi reveals herself in the mirror.
Not exactly a bold color, but still a departure from the soft, dusty pink shades she’s dabbled in before. This small tube of lipstick is also the first product she can call her own, ordered amongst a dozen others with the cabaret’s monthly delivery. As benign a steal as it was, Majima’s heart had been pounding on delivery day, having made a distraction for the other staff so he could be the first to open the boxes and collect his loot.
As of yet, no hellfire has rained down upon him for this infraction, so Majima cautiously considers himself to be in the clear.
It’s not something he can plainly thank Yuki for, but their weekly talking sessions at his side gig with Sunshine had been the genesis for Goromi. The inspiration he had gleaned from her admission, that she started as a hostess to put herself in a position where she’d have to learn to talk to men, wasn’t wholly disconnected from the subject matter, but definitely an extrapolation.
Adopting a persona to please people is what he does, day in, day out, essentially 24/7.
He could at least have a little fun with it.
He’d started paying closer attention to his girls’ styles and wardrobes. Bright garments contoured to draw the eye and celebrate the body, as compared to his current prison uniform, a starchy tuxedo lacking character. He was meant to blend into the background, ensuring all customer attention was focused toward the girls.
Never before had this disparity felt so palpable, made him so envious. Every night, hedonism flourished around him, drinks flowing, bubbly laughter, luxuries being thoughtlessly exchanged and discarded. He witnessed this, knowing that his greatest comfort that night would be a paper-thin futon to lie numbly against, enshrouded by a scratchy blanket that was useless armor against the chatter of Sotenbori right outside his window.
The inevitable conclusion should’ve been obvious.
Goromi presses and releases her lips with a tiny ‘pop’, revealing a lovely, deep glossy purple accentuating her lips. His very first attempt with lipstick was lousy, rounding out his mouth into a shapeless oval. Since then, he’d picked up techniques from his girls, and she could now tantalizingly outline her cupid’s bow rather than smother it.
The same hue is blended into her eyeshadow, a kiss of golden shimmer at the inner corner, deepening out into a royal purple. She adds a touch of color to her other eye as well, for symmetry’s sake, but she had learned quickly that too much makeup rubbed and chafed and stung under the eyepatch. The winged eyeliner is kept simpler, a personal preference. Her fingers are garnished with deep purple press-on nails, and black teardrop earrings are affixed firmly to her earlobes. Some days, dangly earrings feel too grabbable for her to enjoy them.
Selecting an outfit is always the trickiest part, a balance of emphasizing her body while minimizing attention drawn to her irezumi. She’d plucked a choice find from one of the forgotten racks of dresses at the Grand: a sheer bodycon with curled loops of dark ruffles sewn strategically along the sides, haltered neckline, and bust, with a tempting window down the midline. The ruffles are similarly patterned across the back and continue down the sheer sleeves that extend just beyond her elbows. The garment pronounces her curves, she thinks, and while the dress is supposed to end mid-thigh, her tall form means the hem teases a little higher, and so reveals the lines of swirling ink covering her thighs. The outfit has a flesh-toned underdress, obscuring the taut lines of her stomach and hiding the black, satin smooth panties hugging her hips.
Three-inch pumps, dark and dotted with gold studs, two sizes too big for the hostesses, a spritz of perfume, and a ponytail pulled high and tight on the back of her head, complete the look.
She’s hot, damn hot, and enjoys a few minutes of looking herself over in the body mirror, twisting to see how the dress shapes her ass and hips. She practices her softened, higher-toned voice, little ‘hums’ and ‘ahs’, as well as using a line she’s come to love: “Sotenbori….. watch the fuck out.”
The beauty in the mirror flashes a confident smirk at her. She grabs the shiny black clutch hanging over the side of an empty vanity chair. The lights in the dressing room are switched off as she struts out of the room.
Taxiing to a new club every night is her strategy. Lessens the chances of patrons becoming familiar with her presence and being able to identify her to questioning men. There’s something mythical about it all. ‘Blink and you’ll miss her’ Goromi.
Tonight’s venue is Pisces- a glitzy if not borderline obnoxious establishment that she’d been watching for a while. She savors the euphoria of coolly strutting into the club, her hips gently swaying. There are eyes on her instantly, but unlike that of the permanent suitors around her apartment, the positive attention soaks into her, making her practically glow.
Per usual, she prepares for the night at the bar, throwing two cocktails back easily. A man on the next barstool brazenly gawks at her. She generously offers him a smile, fluttering her long lashes as she steps away from the bar.
Just as grandiose as the other clubs, there lies on the ground a mosaic of vivid neon lights, the space flush with moving bodies and raw energy. Bright colors flash against her toned legs as she steps to the beat of synth, weaving her way to the center of the dance floor.
‘I do whatever the fuck I want,’ is Goromi’s personal dogma, and it’s with this confidence that she finally fully blossoms. Her hips roll and sway with the beat of the music, hands either reaching up for some impossible thing or caressing down her body. The thud of the beat concentrates in her chest, and her heartbeat matches the pace. She twirls in her heels, feels air whisk around her thighs as the dress spirals out from her. No invisible shackles can restrain her here, and she can finally move and breathe and live—
She feels her stiletto slip with a particularly fervent twirl. A cold flash of surprise hiccups through her as she falls toward the glittering floor, careening toward a sea of dancing, stomping feet. Fuck, shit-!
Firm arms sweep under her and interrupt her fall. Through the flashing lights and moving colors, her eye refocuses, zeroes in her hero’s face.
A sleazy smile spreads wide across a rough, freckled complexion. Wild eyes pierce right through her. Nishitani.
She- He’d met the man only once, but Nishitani only needs a minute of someone’s time to become unforgettable. It all flashes through her head in an instant: the man’s grimy paw groping at a hostess’s chest; his knife ruthlessly slashing and stabbing forward, just narrowly missing vital parts of anatomy; that look of elated depravity, unwavering through it all.
Held in the arms of fuchsia-colored chaos incarnate, Goromi stares up at the man, eye wide with shock. “Too much to drink already, girlie?” She can barely hear Nishitani’s voice, but the recognition dawning across his face is dreadfully clear. “No fuckin’ way… Majim-“
“The name’s Goromi,” she quickly snaps back, helping herself up from Nishitani’s arms. The music harshens around her, the jostling of bodies closes in. A thin mix of alcohol and bile teases to rise up Goromi’s throat, and her head darts around to look for a quick exit.
“Woah, hey, hey-” the older man tries to soothe. Rough hands grab at her shoulders, and Goromi whips her head forward. With a venomous glare, she wrenches herself from Nishitani’s hold, shoving herself back against another dancer. “Nothin’ to get heated about! Just bein’ a gentleman.” Despite her threatening stare, the man’s eyeline brazenly flows up and down her body, taking in a view that should be off-limits to him. “….Goromi, huh?”
His lecherous voice is barely audible above the music, but Goromi’s face burns all the same. The seductive delicacy in her voice disappears, giving way to a deeper growl. “Yeah, gotta fuckin’ problem with that? Don’t touch me.”
Nishitani raises his hands with a threateningly innocuous grin. “No problems, here… just a real bombshell of a broad.”
More bile. Goromi is meant for herself, not for anybody else, especially not clowns that writhe on the floor swinging daggers around. “Get lost.” She turns to break away from the crowd, towards some kind of safety, when a rough mitt catches her by the wrist. She spins around and cruelly twists the offending arm.
“What’d I say?” Her voice breaks through the barrier of the music. Other dancers distance themselves from the escalating confrontation. “I’ll fuckin’ rip it off right here. Ain’t gonna get caught up in yer bullshit, go make yerself scarce.”
Any even-headed man would receive the message loud and clear. Unfortunately, Nishitani’s head is as crooked as they come. He hisses in pain at the unnatural angle of his arm, but his eyes shine with sheer fucking delight. Bewildered, she releases her grip and her arm defensively retreats to her side.
Nishitani retrieves his hand, grasping it as if he had just touched sacred earth. “Ohh, yer a real firecracker. You can’t kick me outta my own club, though.”
Damn her luck finally running out. Until tonight, she’d not spied any unfriendly faces around during her outings. Figures she’d wander into a club owned by yakuza.
“Don’t bolt on me, sweetheart, hold on.” Goromi bristles at his pacifying tone. “Nothing’s happenin’, nothing to worry about. Just yer pal Nishi, yeah? I won’t make any kinda fuss.”
“I won’t let ya, pal. Gonna be hard to spread shit around with yer teeth down yer throat.”
“Careful that ya only say what you really mean,” Nishitani replies, eyes flashing. Goromi frowns, deep and bitter. Warily, she looks around herself for an easy exit from this nightmare. With her next glimpse at Nishitani, his face has softened- maybe a trick of the light. “Lookit- You’re here to have some fun, right? Lemme get you a drink? As an apology. Didn’t mean to make you stop dancin’.”
Goromi already wants off the dance floor, so she supposes that this is as fine as a method as any. Still tense, she nods her head toward the bar, earning her another one of those wide, sleazy smiles. She expects him to try and reach for her again. Instead, he turns and beckons her along, parting easily through the ocean of dancers.
When they break away from the noise and lights, Goromi’s chest starts to loosen. She could slip away right now, but that would mean surrendering one of her rare nights out to Nishitani, of all beasts. The older man is already at the bar, gesturing something to the bartender. Gripping her clutch tight enough to bend, she carefully approaches the bar top, keeping an arm’s length away.
The bartender sets a glass in front of her, filled with something that looks like whiskey. She feels Nishitani's eyes on her, an unbreaking gaze as he lifts his glass to his lips for a healthy swallow. “So,” he drawls, voice clearer than it was on the dance floor. “What’s this……. Girl’s night out? Paintin’ the town?”
“None of yer fuckin’ business is what it is.” She grabs her glass as well, swirling the liquid around before taking a cautious sip. Strong stuff that tastes expensive. With how this night is evolving, the idea of getting sloshed isn’t unappealing.
“You’re standing in my business, sweetheart.”
“Don’t call me that.”
“Sorry! Sorry…. Goromi-chan.”
She blames the heat in her face on the alcohol already coursing through her. There’s a tease to his voice, more friendly than derogatory.
“S’a gorgeous name for a gorgeous woman.”
She shoots him another look, though the tension begins to bleed from her shoulders. Unpredictable and dangerous as Nishitani is, he doesn’t seem like an immediate threat now. He’s too... jovial.
“Are ya new around here? ‘Cuz I’m out every night, and there ain’t any way I could forget a face like yours.”
Goromi’s not obliged to give him anything... but if she chooses to clam up, she might as well just leave the club now. Another sip of whiskey, and she lets the ghost of a smile touch her lips. “New-er,” she replies, slipping back into her voice. “Already been around an’ messed around a little. First time here, though.”
Delighted with her participation, Nishitani gestures out to the club’s interior proudly, glass in hand. “Well, whadaya think of all this?”
Goromi pauses. “Obnoxious and tacky.” She hides a smirk behind her glass. “And the club ain’t much better.”
Even as he clutches injuredly at his chest, Nishitani still has that goddamn grin plastered on his face. “Aw, miss, you gotta forgive the bad first impression. This place is just for good times.”
Goromi looks away with an unimpressed snort, taking in the view of the club and all its activity. “Just for good times, huh….. what kinda shady shit you got buried under the building?”
“Haven’t the slightest idea what you mean. This here’s an upstanding establishment, lotsa blood, sweat, and tears went into this place.”
She accepts that dubious answer easily enough. “Mmhm.” Tilting her head back, Goromi finishes the contents of her glass- doesn’t need to look to know that Nishitani's gawking at her. She sets the glass firm on the bartop, nudges it towards him. “Gonna get me another?”
With a twitch of his fingers, he makes the bartender swiftly reappear. “Hey,” Nishitani starts, pulling Goromi’s attention away from watching the glass refill. “Really didn’t mean to spoil your fun, swee- Goromi-chan,” he corrects quickly. “I saw ya out there dancin’. Didn’t know who you were, but I had to get closer to watch…. Yer a real beauty, Goromi-chan.”
Goromi rolls her eye at the cloyingly sweet compliment. “That’s your idea of a good time, ogling at girls from the shadows?”
“Even if ya hadn’t slipped and I caught ya, I woulda introduced myself. Asked ya to dance with me.”
The playacting is becoming a bit much. Goromi’s voice drops lower again as she casts him a look. “Stop fuckin’ with me. I can still curb stomp you in these heels, dickhead.”
“You can try. Got a space out back-”
“Fuck, do ya ever stop?” She should’ve known better. More threats of violence only goad him along. Meeting her icy stare, Nishitani’s teeth are exposed in a sharp grin. Something imperceivable changes- it has to be the lights.
“Come dance with me.”
“Absolutely not.”
“I ain’t gonna grab at ya or nothin’, promise. Just wanna watch you dance again.”
“….Yer persistent. I almost believe you.” She drains her glass a second time and sets it down. There’s a buzz coming on, finally. The glint of sincerity in Nishitani's eyes throws her off balance. “….damn, you are being serious, aren’t ya?”
“Got any song requests, I’ll throw ‘em to the DJ.”
She almost laughs at that. “...Ya got Queen of the Passion in here?”
Again, she’s knocked off guard by how bright Nishitani fucking beams at her. “Yeah. Absolutely.” He beckons over the bartender, leans in to give the order. The bartender nods and steps away to a phone set to relay the message.
Two seconds later, the music abruptly switches, catching the active group of dancers off guard. When the starting synth of the new song echoes in, they cheer and quickly recover. A laugh escapes Goromi before she can stop it. Looking back, she sees hope nakedly shining across the man's face, and she gifts him a softer smirk. “Alright. C’mon.”
When she takes Nishitani's hand, it’s the loosest of grips, barely two fingers hooking against his. He politely follows behind her as they travel to the center of the dance floor.
Once again, Goromi blossoms without a shred of insecurity, closes her eye and surrenders herself to the beat of the song. At some point, she feels a change in the air behind her- it’s Nishitani, not a half-bad dancer himself, moving with her, accentuating her body, making her the star of the show. The sincerity never leaves his face.
Goromi realizes, fuck, she’s actually having fun. Warmth bubbling in her chest, her barely neutral smile curls upward, and she points it at Nishi as she twirls. Someone could shout 'fire' and he wouldn’t look away.
As the final chorus of the song rises, it all falls into place. Goromi lifts her hand and reaches out to Nishi, who elatedly slips his fingers between hers, then she’s spinning again. The height difference is evident, but all the same, Goromi is still smiling when she meets his gaze. She falls gracefully toward him, and Nishi responds in kind by smoothly catching her in a dip. His arm wraps around her back, keeps her against him, and she arches in a bow, exposing the winding snakes of her irezumi against her collar bones. She can feel Nishi’s breath against her skin.
The song ends, yet they linger in the pose. In the erratic pulsing light of the club, she watches, captivated by shadows casting randomly across Nishi’s face, highlighting his features. Awe, reverence, whatever-the-fuck, Nishi’s looking down at her with an expression that shakes her a little.
The speakers begin projecting a new, sensual beat, and Goromi realizes that she’s pressed against the whole length of his body.
They both rise to their feet. Rather than pull away when Nishi’s hands come to fall at her waist, she moves in, clutches at his shoulders as their hips begin to gyrate in unison to the beat of the music.
Her breath catches when her hips roll up against Nishi’s, she can feel his arousal. She’s not sure if that’s the music thudding in her ears or her own heartbeat, when she lets Nishi close the gap between them and seal their lips together.
She feels his warmth soak into her, feels the silent hum that rises from Nishi’s throat and travels through her, the scratch of his beard, the taste of whiskey mingling in their mouths. She smells the spice of tacky cologne mixed with sweat, it pours into her, snuffing out all oxygen until her head is swimming. Until her whole body is floating.
They break the kiss with a shared gasp, though their faces stay close. The gentle squeeze of Nishi’s grip on her waist holds their bodies flush. It’s when Nishi’s grip tightens that Goromi yanks herself back into reality.
“Goromi-chan,” she hears Nishi breathe, feels him closing in for another kiss. She leans back to break away, momentarily leaving Nishi’s face exposed and confused until he opens his eyes again.
“Shit,” Goromi barely hears herself curse. The noise of the club rises, closing in on her.
“Somethin’ wrong-“ Nishi’s voice disappears as she flees the dance floor. Sour bile mixed with whiskey adamantly pushes up into her throat. She covers her mouth, just barely entering the women’s restroom and finding a stall before retching.
The alcohol burns her throat on its way up. She coughs hoarsely as moisture collects in her eye, thin spatters of spit forced out from her lips with each dry heave. Left hunched over the toilet bowl, clutching at its sides, Goromi’s head throbs as she tries to process what the fuck just happened.
Even through the foul taste of bile, the aroma of spiced cologne and sweat lingers. She’s trembling, frozen to the spot in harsh silence, only interrupted by a light knock on the stall door.
“Hey, you okay in there, girl?” An unfamiliar female voice- another club attendee, following the unspoken law of the night life, ladies watching out for ladies.
Goromi hacks out a weak laugh and the moisture in her eye spills over. “Y-yeah, m’fine. Jus’ went a lil’ too far.”
She spits into the toilet, it does nothing to rid the awful taste in her mouth. Her knees are aching when she moves to stand back up, and she wipes her mouth on the back of her hand mindlessly. Feeling the greasy smear of lipstick across her skin, she retracts her hand and stares dumbly at the purplish stain.
Several wads of tissue are used to wipe her face even before she exits the stall. The concerned stranger is gone, and she staggers in her heels over to the sink.
Make-up is fucked, she chastises herself as she stares at the woman in the mirror. Eyeliner staining her cheek, skin blotched from exertion, her mouth looking bruised with the remnants of her lipstick. Her clutch is somewhere, has things she could use to touch up. Turning the tap, she collects water in her hand to rinse her mouth out, and notices she’s missing a nail.
Her bloodshot eye glares back at her in the mirror. What a pretty little picture you make.
The door opens and Goromi ducks her head down as two girls pass her.
There’s definitely another exit, likely down the back hallway. If she takes off her heels, she can bolt out of there and get started on pretending that tonight never happened.
She tucks one of the loosened strands of hair from her ponytail behind her ear.
For all the horror and revulsion she feels right now, there’s no forgetting that moment back on the dance floor.
One song is all it takes, huh?
After being beaten down and deprived, the sensation of thriving, being with someone who wants her to thrive- it’s dangerously addictive. A craving that Majima can’t indulge, not if he ever wants back into the Tojo Clan.
Majima isn’t here right now, though. Goromi is. She roughly rubs away at the eyeliner stain on her cheek.
And Goromi does whatever the fuck she wants.
Makeup mostly cleaned up and ponytail neatened, Goromi feels a bit naked walking out of the restroom. She doesn’t have a moment to consider Nishi’s whereabouts, because he’s right there, leaning against the wall with his hands in his pockets, his expression—hard to decipher. Her vision is still a little blurry.
“Couldn’t handle yer liquor, doll?”
The uninvited nickname glances off Goromi as she approaches. Nishi’s fallen back into his usual demeanor, flashing a goading grin at her. "If yer itching for somethin’ else, we can always-“
Her hand shoots out, fingers wrapping around his garish tie and gripping tight. Nishi has no time to react as he’s yanked forward, his lips colliding with Goromi’s.
“Hm…!” A sound of surprise that Goromi swallows with a firm kiss, her lips quickly gravitating towards meaner, bitier ones. Nishi meets her ferocious kisses, eager and uncompromising. Goromi feels hands wrap around her waist, and the spiced aroma fills her lungs once more.
Nishi tries to interject when they part for breath, but he’s stifled when Goromi moves back in for more. “Hey—"
She presses her thigh between Nishi’s legs and feels him swoon.
He’s still half hard, unsurprisingly. Her heartbeat quickens at the feel of his firm length sliding against the muscle of her thigh. A delighted noise from Nishi pours down her throat, and he rocks his hips forward.
The music changes, and their hips fall into the quicker beat of the booming synth, Goromi grinding her thigh forward, Nishi’s stiff erection rutting greedily in reply.
Another parting for breath- Goromi’s lips feel bruised. Nishi presses his forehead against hers, gives a throaty chuckle. “There’s my girl.”
Goromi belongs to no one. But Nishi’s words sound more like rabid encouragement than staking claim. The next kiss clicks their teeth together.
He pulls her in tight, slotting his thigh between hers and groaning at the feel of her arousal. She presses him into the wall, raising him up an inch to share the friction between their hips. If anyone has anything to say about the two maniacs humping against the wall, they keep it to themselves.
Goromi’s dick slides against the satin of her panties, aching for more. Nishi breaks the kiss and presses their foreheads together again. “You got me leakin’ already, Goromi-chan,” he breathes out. She can feel how he’s barely restraining himself from grinding his hips forward. “Let’s take the fun somewhere else, c’mon.” His hold on her slackens, but his hand lingers, still presses against the small of her back as he guides them down the hall. With the act of walking in heels suddenly very difficult, she leans on him for balance.
She half-expects to be guided into the men’s restroom, but he keeps going, turning them around a corner to reveal a nondescript door. Broom closet, then?
Goromi’s senses are overwhelmed as she enters the room. A stocked bar straight ahead. Plush rugs dotted around the floor. A long sofa against the wall, opposite a raised bed that fills the space of the alcove it’s in. Both are flooded with pillows of every size and shape.
Some kinda personal love hotel. Who-the-fuck knows how many people have cycled through here, or the horrors that a blacklight would reveal.
Of course, there’s a floor-to-ceiling mirror running alongside the bed as well. Goromi’s eye narrows at the sight of Nishi’s reflection grinning up at her. The door closes behind them with a click, smothering all but the barest thud-thud-thud of the pulsing music just meters away.
“Wanna ‘nother drink?” Nishi’s voice is clear, low and close to her ear.
“Sure.” She’s pleased with how confident she sounds, because her stomach is flipping.
He’s already at the bar, pouring from a decorative bottle into two glasses. “Do ya know just how much I’ve been thinkin’ about ya? Was gonna pay yer cabaret another visit.”
She slides onto a plush stool and rests her chin on the back of her hand. “Dunno what yer talkin’ about,” she replies dryly, accepting the filled glass. “I ain’t a cabaret girl. Yer mistakin’ me for someone else.”
Instantly, Nishi switches gears. “Aw shit, forgive me, Goromi-chan, I was mistaken. Classy gal like you can’t be found in a cabaret.”
She snorts at that, rolls her eye. She’s getting accustomed to the sight of Nishi’s beaming grin.
“You got such an energy ‘bout you, though. Enchanting. Mysterious. I was drawn to ya. Gotta be a dozen guys at yer feet every time you go out, right?”
She takes a drink. “Practically steppin’ on ‘em. All of ‘em horndogs lookin’ for a quick lay. I haven’t bothered indulging any’a that behavior.”
There had been other men, ones who ordered her drinks, invited themselves to sneak a hand onto her thigh. One guy earned a savage beatdown after he tried following her home. How much any of them knew about what kind of lady she was had never been clear, but this had been a line drawn from the start. A protective measure.
Nishi seems satisfied with her answer and its undertones. “Powerful woman like you’s got standards,” he agrees. “What’s it take for a lucky guy to get close to ya, then?”
“Askin’ for yerself?”
“Absolutely.”
“Hmm…” She touches a finger to her lips. “…He’s gotta be burly, most of all. If he can’t go toe-to-toe with me, he’s not worth my time.”
“Toe-to-toe, huh? And you mean…?”
“Thought you woulda figured that out. A guy who can take a hit and deal it right back out, y’know?”
She knows that he knows. There’s a shine in his eyes now. Goromi lets out a tragic sigh, flutters her lashes and looks somberly out into the distance. “But… I’m startin’ to think a fella like that just doesn’t exist. Even the buffest guys I’ve found all turned out to be spineless softies. Makes me think…” A dramatic pause, then her eye fixes back on Nishi. “Makes me think I oughta quit lookin’... That there ain’t a man out there for a lady like me.”
It’s an impressive level of restraint that Nishi’s executing- he looks like he wants to pounce now. She traces the rim of her glass with a fingertip. “…yer probably not that kinda guy either, huh? I mean, yer nice and all, but…”
“You got me all wrong, Goromi-chan.”
She raises an eyebrow. “Oh?”
“Yeah. Nothin’ gets me running hotter than throwin’ down. ‘Specially with a feisty lady that can hold her own.”
“Yer just sayin’ that 'cuz you want a taste,” she dismisses.
Nishi’s tongue darts out to wet his lips, and heat prickles in Goromi’s core. He sets his glass down. “I do wanna taste,” he remarks roughly. “But I know I can get yer blood pumpin’ better than any schmuck in this city.”
“Ya gonna back those words up with some proof, big guy?”
“Yeah. I am.” Nishi’s eyes crackle with electricity. The air buzzes as he moves around the bar to approach her. He lifts her chin, leans in for a gentle kiss, and her body comes alight.
His voice is a heady murmur when they part. “How ‘bout we go on your count, baby?”
She bites her lip, eye lidded. Her hand lifts to caress his cheek, her thumb running along the line of his cheekbone.
She slams the side of his head down on the bar with an impressive crack.
Nishi staggers, clutches at his head, his eyes still aglow. He makes like he’s about to take a step back, before launching a fist right at Goromi’s cheek. It connects and she grunts, feeling herself about to fall off the stool, feeling it when Nishi’s foot kicks against her chest and sends her to the ground to knock the breath out of her lungs. She kicks out at his leg, the sharp point of her stiletto landing right on his kneecap, and his loud, pained recoil gives her the moment she needs to twist her body and get back on her feet.
There’s already a cut along Nishi’s hairline, blood trickling down. He looks manic. Goromi feels the painful swell on her cheek throb through her jaw, and she bears an equally feral grin. She lunges for the glass on the counter, but a strong hand snatches her wrist before she can get there, and she sees stars when Nishi smacks their skulls together in a sharp headbutt. A hand wraps tight around Goromi’s throat to cut off her breath- Vision swimming, she’s still able to launch her knee into the man’s abdomen and escape his grasp as he heaves. Nishi braces himself against the bar and clutches his stomach.
“Damn, baby, you ain’t a firecracker, yer a fuckin’ stick of dynamite.”
Goromi blows a teasing kiss before charging at Nishi, using her full weight to send him to the ground.
They writhe and grapple on the floor, swapping grunts of exertion and pain. Nishi lands a blow to the side of her ribs, she curls in protectively and slashes at his face with her nails. He howls, grabs at his face, and she elbows him in the sternum. They’re twisting again, and she hooks her arm around the older man’s throat in a rear chokehold.
She pants hard while Nishi coughs and gasps, feels him scratching at her arm, kicking his feet out. She’s considering calling mercy when a sharp pain shoots into her leg. Releasing the hold with a sharp cry, she lets Nishi slip away, looks down- there's a wine corkscrew jutting out of her outer thigh. She didn’t really expect Nishi to play by the rules, did she?
Goromi reaches down to grasp at the corkscrew and yank it out, but a brutal kick to the ribs has her twisting onto her side reflexively in agony. Rough hands roll her onto her stomach. She feels Nishi straddle her hips, as well as the very obvious erection pressing against her ass. A yelp is wrenched from her as she’s yanked up and backward by her ponytail. Strong fingers wrap around her throat, and hot, labored breaths puff in her ear.
“Still don’t think I’m up to snuff?” he growls. His hips roll down, Goromi’s body feels like it’s on fire. She plants a hand on the ground and feels his fingers sink against her flesh.
“F-fuck,” she gasps, high and breathy. Her hips cant back, grinding upward. “N-Nishi-han…”
The man above her groans, repeating the same motion with his hips. His breath moves down, and he ravishes her neck with lips and teeth and tongue.
Before her arm can buckle, the other swings upward to stab the wine corkscrew into the back of his hand. As Nishi howls and retreats, Goromi pulls away, dragging herself to stand upright on wobbling ankles. Nishi yanks the corkscrew out of his hand with a grunt, sending it skittering across the floor, out of both of their reach.
Goromi grabs a fistful of Nishi’s shirt. She heaves him up off the ground, glaring at him- Nishi stares back, floating in ecstasy.
Lean muscles rippling, Goromi lifts and launches him over her shoulder, a plush rug cushioning his fall with an “oof”.
“Fuck, yes,” she hears him groan muffled against the rug. He pushes himself up to sit, arms bracing behind him, his spread legs lewdly bent and presenting the bulge in his pants. Angry scratch marks streak down and across his face. Blood sluggishly travels to collect at his jawline and drip down his chin.
“Told you, me bein’ in heels don’t make me less of a threat,” Goromi remarks, stepping forward to tower over the man. Nishi couldn’t look more delighted.
It feels like a natural progression of things when Goromi lifts her foot, presses the sole of her heel to Nishi’s arousal. Nishi loudly voices his approval, eyes rolling up and head falling back. “Fu-uck, yes.” His hips unabashedly grind upward against her stiletto.
She leans more of her weight toward her foot, and that’s enough to make Nishi buck upward, body trembling, arms about to give out, and he groans her name. “G-Goromi-chan!”
Goromi watches Nishi unravel, hips mindlessly thrusting upward. The sight stokes a flame in her core. She smiles wryly down at Nishi as his stuttered spasms soften into twitches.
Nishi flops back onto the ground, heaving blissfully. “Holy shit… yer fuckin’ incredible, Goromi-chan.”
“Are ya finished already?”
“Nah, no fuckin’ way. You got my motor running so hot… Jus’ needed to let off a little steam.” Lifting himself on an elbow, Nishi lolls his head forward to give Goromi a dreamy look.
“I shouldn’t be surprised that you’re into this, given everything else about ya,” Goromi remarks airily, noting the darkish stain forming against Nishi’s thigh.
“I’m into everything about you, Goromi-chan,” Nishi purrs, wild eyes trained on her.
Slowly, Goromi retracts her foot and takes a step back, feeling overheated and knocked loose with the older man’s lusty sincerity. “...Yeah, you oughta be. No one else can put you down like this.”
“No one,” he replies emphatically. “Yer the only woman for me, Goromi-chan.”
For all she doesn’t know about the man, Goromi knows that Nishitani doesn’t lie, doesn’t make up bullshit. He’s unapologetically authentic, terrifyingly so, uncaring of manicured appearances and behaviors that fall in line with other yakuza. It’s borderline charming.
And like a lecherous moth erratically fluttering toward a vibrant flame, Nishi unsteadily lifts himself up to his feet. Goromi reaches for him, and his hands are instantly all over her, greedy, aimless pawing quickly becoming more deliberate as his fingers brush against the hem of her dress. “Lemme prove it to ya,” he says huskily, kissing Goromi’s lips first, moving across to the sharp corner of her jawline and down into the crook of her neck. Goromi shudders, eye fluttering shut. He’s planting kisses to her neck that get wetter and sloppier, skin rubbing raw from his beard, and he travels from her bare neck to the bold lines of her tattoo. His fingers curl under the hem of her dress. “Please, Goromi-chan, gotta taste ya.”
She moans, head feeling fuzzy, and nods, provoking an overeager growl against her skin. He cradles her waist, and she’s guided backward a short distance until she bumps against the wall. Pressing one kiss to her lips, then another to her chest, Nishi descends with zeal, kneeling down to gaze hungrily at her arousal, still barely hidden by her dress. Palming her thighs, his hands slide up to smoothly lift up her dress. He groans low at the sight of her still-clothed dick, and Goromi feels herself flush hotly.
No light kisses or teasing touches, Nishi leans in and presses the flat of his tongue to the shape of her cock. He moans, licks upward slowly, his lidded eyes meeting Goromi’s as he lifts his head. Her knees tremble at the sight of the bloodied man ready to devour her. “Fuckin’ maniac,” she moans out shakily, the warm, firm wetness of his tongue alighting her senses. Her cock twitches against his tongue, spurring him on.
He hooks a finger under the hem of her panties, pulls them down, and her dick is now free and at full attention. Another breathy sound leaves her, and her heart thuds loudly in her chest.
Nishi says something she can’t quite hear, some private filthy comment, and he ducks his head under her dress. Then finally, he’s touching her cock, wrapping his fingers around the shaft and slathering his wet tongue over the head. She buries her hands in his hair and moans, high and needy.
“Fuck, Nishi!” Her head thuds back against the wall. She hears him spit in his hand, feels the warm slick gliding over her cock as he pumps steadily.
He kisses the head of her dick, tongue messily swiping up and down the sensitive flesh. Another surprise that really shouldn’t be a surprise: Nishitani is great at sucking dick. Her knees wobble again, and Nishi reaches with his free hand to cradle her thigh and steady her.
“Yer leakin’ like a firehose, Goromi-chan,” he breathes in wonderment. “Shoulda been dripping down your thighs.” Goromi’s face flushes at Nishi’s filth, she lets out another moan. “Fuck, you taste good.”
His tongue swirls around the head of her cock as he strokes her, then he’s wrapping his lips around her, enveloping her in wet heat. She cries out shakily. Still obscured under her dress, Nishi bobs his head, sliding his tongue under the shaft and taking in more with each stroke. Goromi drags her dress up, exposing her toned stomach to air, and reveals the sight of Nishi, down on his knees and between her legs. Wild eyes snap up to her, and somehow he’s still able to flash a sleazy smile with her dick in his mouth. A calloused thumb rubs little circles into her thigh.
Soon, his lips are sliding up and down the full length of her cock, glistening with spit. Goromi can’t look away from him, and so he gets a perfect view of her face crumbling in pleasure when he swallows the head down his throat. Her moans fill the room.
“Nishi-han, that’s—fuck, shit, you feel amazing,” she breathes out, short and harsh. “Chokin’ on my dick… ya look real good down there.” He winks back up at her, then bobs his head forward to stuff half of her cock down his throat. Goromi cries out, her hips twitch forward, seeking out more heat, and Nishi groans around her cock as another half-inch is forced down his throat. He takes it like a goddamn professional, even squeezes Goromi’s hip and pulls her closer.
She takes the invitation, grips his hair tight and begins shallowly thrusting into his mouth. She pulls out to give Nishi a breath but he dives right back in, and they both moan loud when Nishi’s face presses up against her groin, taking her whole.
It’s too much, it’s fucking surreal, a yakuza patriarch swallowing her cock like a man possessed. She’s fucking his throat completely now, his face slamming into her pelvis with every stroke.
“O-oh... Nishi-han, I’m, I’m gonna cum down yer fuckin’ throat,” it’s a moan and a warning, one that Nishi takes heed by swallowing her cock to the root, muscles in his throat tightening around her, coaxing for her release. She cries out and throws her head back as white-hot pleasure overcomes her. Nishi holds fast to her, eagerly swallowing around each spurt of cum pulsing down his throat.
As she comes back down, she lets out breathy “ahs” with each aftershock, hips twitching against Nishi’s face, drawing out every blissful drop. Her lidded gaze drops down to Nishi, finding him in his own corner of paradise. When she tries to pull out of his mouth, he stubbornly follows her, refusing to let an inch leave his lips. Those usually wild eyes are fogged over, perfectly content, despite his chest hitching and his face blotching red. She has to grab the sides of Nishi’s head and forcibly yank him away, her cock shining with spit, a thin trail from the tip still connected to the older man’s equally glossy, parted lips. “Fuck, Nishi. Trying to choke yerself out?”
There’s that grin again, the one that tells Goromi that he’s down for anything. “S’a helluva way to go,” he replies, the hoarseness of his voice failing to conceal his adoration.
Goromi blearily pans down Nishi’s body and almost scoffs- Already, he’s palming the hard outline of his dick again. “Yer fuckin’ insatiable.”
“I’m boilin’, ready to fuckin’ explode. You sound like an angel, Goromi-chan.”
She huffs and looks away, a swallow clicking in her throat. Her hand swipes away at the uninvited overwhelmed tear streaking down her face.
“Fuck, yer absolutely stunning.”
At the sound of a dreamy sigh, Goromi looks down to see the same reverence so plainly plastered to Nishi’s face as they danced. He presses his cheek against her muscled thigh, and her mouth flattens into a terse line. “Quit gawkin’ at me like that, you’ll catch flies.”
Nishi rises to his feet, capturing Goromi’s lips with his own once he’s at her height. Hungry, ravenous kisses for which she doesn’t have the energy to match. His hands smooth down her form as he softens, breaking the kiss. “Am I gonna have to get you heated back up, Goromi-chan?”
“You sucked my goddamn soul out through my dick, there’s no way I can go another round.”
“Aw. Y’don’t think so? Thought we were just getting started.”
Truth of the matter, she doesn’t want things to end yet. She doesn’t want to trudge back to her prison cell of an apartment. She doesn’t want to disappear yet, only for Majima to drearily take her place.
Fleetingly, the thought of never going back, staying Goromi for good flickers in her. But she isn’t stupid.
She brushes the back of a finger down Nishi’s chest, hums in consideration. “Maybe you get me another drink, and we’ll see how things go.”
Nishi’s face alights once more. He responds with another kiss, lingering and sweet. Goromi thinks she could be dreaming, this beast shouldn’t be able to touch and kiss as softly as he does. He takes her slender hand in his own, easing Goromi off from the wall. Her legs wobble, and she’s guided to sit on the edge of the bed. When she reaches to take off her heels, Nishi stops her.
Goromi snorts and rolls her eye. “What, suddenly yer a gentleman? Gonna drop me off before curfew with a kiss on the cheek?”
“Nah.” Nishi’s fingers trace over the lines of her foot, eventually travelling to slip away the heel. “Yer legs look smokin’ hot in heels, I want a closer look.”
A laugh hums up from her throat, and she lets her head fall back, eye closing to focus on Nishi’s touch. She doesn’t expect the press of a thumb to her arch, and she jumps, relaxing as the thumb starts massaging in slow circles.
“Ticklish, huh?”
Goromi shoots him a mild glare. “No. Why the hell are ya touchin’ my feet?”
“’Said I’m into everything about you, sweet Goromi-chan,” he replies smoothly, massaging the curves of her foot with both thumbs.
She groans and her head lazily tilts to the side. “Fuck, man, all this fluffy bullshit……what’s yer angle here?”
Nishi looks up at her, impressively innocent. “Whadaya mean, Goromi-chan?”
“I mean, last time we met, you were itching to hack me to pieces. Now, yer rubbin’ my feet and lookin’ at me with heart eyes. The hell you playin’ at?”
“Playin’ at? Nothin’. Can’t a fella have some fun in his own club, no strings attached?”
“No strings, huh. No plan to get in my pants so I start whisperin’ sweet nothings and clan secrets?”
Nishi laughs and shakes his head, rough fingers caressing down the lines of her foot. “You know I ain’t nefarious like that.”
“…that ain’t really your style, no. You don’t act like you give a shit about any of that stuff, really.”
“Maybe I do, maybe I don’t,” he hums, delicately slipping off her other heel. “Shouldn’t really matter at all to you, Goromi-chan. Bein’ a lovely lady an’ all, yer classier than that. Got better things to do than worry about a buncha fuckheads blowing each other up over petty bullshit.” His thumbs press against the bottom of her other foot, applying the right amount of pressure to melt the ache away.
Goromi hums once more, considering the lifeline Nishi is offering her. He’s right. Goromi ain’t yakuza. Doesn’t know anything about ‘em. And she doesn’t care.
She’s startled by a kiss planted on her lips and realizes that Nishi has risen to his feet. “Lemme go fix you that drink… angel.” Her lips part, as if to say something, but no words come out. Goromi ain’t yakuza, the thought once again echoes. And she can do whatever the fuck she wants.
Now sitting alone on the bed, her gaze floats over her body. There’s a peg-sized hole in her thigh, a drying trail of blood leading down from the wound to her calf. Her dress is wrinkled, yet surprisingly not torn. She watches her bare feet shift against each other. Faintly, she hears the sounds of Nishi at the bar again, and hopes he washed his goddamn hands.
“Goromi-chan?” She’s pulled out of her thoughts by a glass being offered to her. She takes the glass, holds it in both hands in her lap, and watches the amber liquid catch and shimmer in the light. She feels Nishi sit down next to her, his arm wrapping behind to hold her hip.
“Don’t go getting all shy on me now, Goromi-chan,” he teases lightly against the shell of her ear.
“I ain’t gettin’ shy,” she snaps back defensively. “M’just…” She softens again, leaving the sentence unfinished.
“Y’know you can tell ol’ Nishi anything. Go on, pour yer heart out.”
It’s practically choreographed, how he meets her glare with a cheeky grin.
“....wasn’t expectin’ the night to go any way like this.”
“That ain’t a bad thing, course-correctin’ on the spot. ‘Specially when ya got an idea of what’s in store, right?” His attempt at soothing her discomfort falls short, and she’s still staring down into her glass. “Why do ya come out like this, then?”
They’re treading dangerously close to the barrier of fantasy. Goromi grips her glass tight and takes a drink.
Nishi snatches them back from the edge just in time. “What I mean is, when you go out all prettied-up, what do you like to do?”
Goromi lets out a slow breath. “S’fun to go out an’ dance, get wasted, ain’t that everyone’s reason?” There’s the smallest squeeze of encouragement to her hip.
“Sure, yeah, s’why I got this place. But the way you move out there...” He pauses. Goromi flinches minutely when Nishi’s hand covers hers.
“S’like you were born for it. Like everythin’ else beyond the club disappears, an’ it’s just you and the music.... You move like you know how it feels to be weighed down, so ya put your heart into every moment that you’re free.”
Goromi doesn’t know how much Nishi knows about Majima, terrors and torture and all. If he knows nothing, his absurdly precise read on Goromi is bone-chilling. Wouldn’t a sharp sense of perception be necessary for a patriarch, though? “Maybe yer onto somethin’ there, Nishi.” She drains her glass. “What’s it matter to you, anyway?”
Adding to the list of firsts, she witnesses Nishi bite his tongue, hold his words back. Trepidation looks wrong on his face. She weighs whether or not to let Nishi squirm. But she doesn’t have it in her heart to do him wrong like that.
“I think,” Goromi starts, setting her empty glass down on the step. She invites herself to slide into his lap, mindlessly playing with his tie. “It’s ‘cuz you’ve never been put down by a lady before. Somethin’ like that gets out around the city, s’gonna tarnish a man’s reputation. Big, tough guy like you,” she purrs, pulling the tie snug around his throat. “You can’t let that happen, so yer tryin’ to charm the pants off me, get in my head, make me wanna wrap myself around your finger.” She looks up at Nishi leerily and lets a smile pass through. “Am I onto somethin’, slugger?”
Nishi must have regained his footing while she wasn’t looking, because he gives her a toothy smirk. “Gettin’ all saucy with yer heels like that was a dirty trick. We both know who shoulda come out on top.”
“Seems like I’m still on top, though?” She presses a nail to her lips coyly. Nishi’s hands are on her, grip tightening.
They both see the move coming from miles away, but Goromi still gasps in surprise when Nishi twists them in a death roll, pins her down to the duvet. He leans down to peck a kiss to her lips. “Wanna try that again, sweet Goromi-chan?”
She hadn’t thought it possible that she could get hard again, not after being lavished by Nishi’s skilled mouth, but heat stirs in her core. Sharp canines glisten in the salacious grin shooting down at her.
The way she’s pinned would be easy enough to escape, knees at the perfect level to thrust upward against his groin. But the fire in her isn’t burning for a fight.
“Oh, Nishi-han,” she moans, weakly feigning a struggle. “Yer right- I can’t beat a big, strong man like you, not without resortin’ to my feminine wiles. Please, be gentle with me....”
Nishi’s pupils blow out wide and dark, and the shiver that passes through Goromi at the sight is at least half-real. Biting down hard on her lip, she gives him a pleading look that shimmers in her eye. “.....kiss me?”
Sounding and looking the way she does, there’s no way Nishi can refuse her. His hungry lips press against hers, and she’s able to sneak her wrist out of his grip and deliver a sharp jab to his side, just under his ribs. His pained cry is half-swallowed by the kiss, and Goromi narrowly avoids Nishi biting down on her tongue, using his recoil as momentum to shove him down into the duvet. She gets a hold of his wrists and straddles his waist. “Wanna try that again, Nishi-han?”
“That doesn’t count,” Nishi protests mildly, hissing when her grip tightens on his wrists. “Ya just did the same thing, Goromi-chan. How’s a fella supposed to have a fair fight when his opponent looks this good?”
She rolls down against his groin. “We both know you don’t fight fair anyway, Nishi-han.” Her knuckles blanch as she squeezes his wrists, provoking a yelp.
“Alright, alright, I give!” Though he’s conceding, his eyes are still blown wide with delight. “You win this round, Goromi-chan. Even if it’s only 'cuz of the hold you got over me.”
She loosens her grip, and the blood returns to circulate through Nishi’s hands. “A winner’s still a winner,” she mocks with a purr, lowering to close the distance once more.
Nishi obliges her enthusiastically, and the intensity in the air softens. Nishi’s released hands are already cupping her ass, a moan passing through them both as Goromi arches back into the touch. With too much to grab and too few hands, Nishi roams with his lips down to her neck, ravishing the skin, making like he’s going to devour her. Goromi lets her eye slide closed, content with relinquishing her control to this man, if only for a minute.
“Pah.”
Eye snapping open, she lifts and twists her head to give Nishi an incredulous look for the bizarre interruption, sees him rubbing at his nose and eyes.
“Sorry- yer hair got in my face.”
A pause, then Goromi nearly snorts, her laughter dropping an octave lower. “Why’re ya sayin’ sorry for my hair gettin’ in your face?”
“Didn’t want to stop ya.” The older man looks up at her with stars in his eyes. He caresses her cheek, idly thumbs her hairline. “You ever go out wearin’ it down?” he asks.
“My hair? Yeah….once. The girls make it look easy, usin’ curlers and hair irons,” she admits. She remembers dousing a nasty little burn on her hand with concealer daily for a whole week, lest someone were to get curious and ask.
“You do all this by yourself, then?”
Goromi’s gaze ducks between them. Why would she ever dare to ask for help with something like this? She nods quietly.
“You got exquisite style, Goromi-chan,” Nishi marvels, running a thumbnail under her bottom lip. The remnants of lipstick seem to remind him of something. “Ah, hey. Lookee here,” he reaches into the inner pocket of his dress coat and produces the black clutch she had misplaced earlier. He presents it proudly to her. “A lady needs her purse.”
Goromi doesn’t hide the look of relief on her face, sitting up instantly to take the clutch in her hands, flipping it open to make sure all contents are accounted for. “There ya go again, Nishi, pretendin’ to be a gentleman.” He chuckles bashful-like as he sits up as well. She spots the tube of plum lipstick, pauses, then retrieves it along with a pocket mirror. The clutch is cast aside, and the mirror is opened and nudged into Nishi’s chest. “Hold this for me?”
Nishi grabs and holds the mirror steady without hesitation. Goromi has to lean to get a good angle while she reapplies her lipstick, and her face feels warmed by the enraptured stare of her audience. Her hand comes up to cover Nishi’s, so she can lift and turn the mirror a little.
Pleased, she presses her lips closed, opens them again with a tiny ‘pop’, then closes the mirror with a satisfying ‘click’.
“Hot damn.” Nishi’s hand returns to her face, thumb delicately grazing the skin under her bottom lip, as not to disturb the fresh lipstick. Fingers trail back down to the nape of her neck, and his eyes flicker up to her ponytail. “Can I see ya with your hair down?”
“It ain’t styled or nothin’.”
“Don’t care, I wanna see.”
She rolls her eye and smiles, tosses the clutch aside, and reaches up behind her head to slip the band out of her hair. Her scalp stings, complains to her about how tightly she had kept it pulled back. She fluffs her hair to try and make it presentable, one of her hands gently caught by Nishi’s and stilled.
“Quit fussin’ with it.”
“Yer a hairstylist now too, huh?”
Nishi hums a laugh at that, reaches delicately to run his fingers through her hair. Not too long ago, it was wrapped tight around his hand, rendering her immobile. This fact does nothing to stir apprehension in her. He twists and curls a dark lock with his fingers.
“Frames your face wonderfully, Goromi-chan.” Heat’s rising up into her face, and Nishi notices her growing blush. “Yeah, this face,” he continues, bringing both hands up to cup her jaw. “Lean an’ powerful. I could be at the wrong end of a shotgun and still be smilin’, if it was you.”
“That’s 'cuz yer batshit insane, Nishi.” A fact he does not dispute.
“An’ yet, here you are, sittin' in my lap.” A fact that she cannot dispute.
He kisses her softly, and his hands slide down to rest at her shoulders, thumbing at her prominent collarbones. "Y’wanna know what I think?” It’s murmured for her ears only, and against her better judgment, she hums an affirmative. “I think,” he starts, twirling a finger into her hair, “That a gorgeous woman like you shouldn’t be locked away. I think she oughta be able to fly free, wherever she wants, whenever she wants.”
His words force a lump up her throat that catches in her windpipe, rendering her unable to speak. What could she possibly say to that? Yes, please, set me free.
“....maybe that’s a little too much, huh.” Goromi’s eye flickers away and she swallows hard, remaining silent. “I’m just happy to meet someone like you, Goromi-chan.”
“If ya try getting down on one knee right now, I’m gonna kick you in the face.”
That steals a quiet laugh from Nishi, and he finally releases her, lets her sit back a few inches. “Naw, that’d just be throwin’ ya in a new cage. An’ there’s no diamond in the world big an’ flashy enough to deserve bein’ on your finger, Goromi-chan.”
“I might just kick ya in the face anyway.”
“Promise?”
Instead of launching her foot towards that sleazy smile, she leans in for another kiss, leaving a fresh purple lipstick print across his lips, then another along his jaw. His hand threads into her hair, softly twisting and caressing the dark locks. When his other hand sneaks down to grab a handful of her ass, she arches back. A soft breeze against her thigh tells her of Nishi’s hand hiking up her dress, exposing black satin once more. A fingertip dips under the hem of her panties teasingly.
“Can I have ya here, too?” A murmur against her lips that makes her stomach flutter violently.
“Mm, depends. Are ya gonna treat me right?”
“Like fuckin’ royalty.” His fingers wander further under the satin, freezing in place when Goromi’s breath hitches.
“Don’t have to,” Nishi murmurs easily, rubbing soothing circles into her other hip with his thumb.
“This ain’t...” Majima isn’t here right now. Goromi is. “....I’ve never gone this far before,” she whispers.
“S’alright,” he replies, matching her volume. “Gonna have to warn ya, though.”
Goromi bristles a little and sits upright, narrowing her eye. “Warn me about what?”
Nishi’s smile is warm, tempting. “With me, yer startin’ at the very top of the ladder here, Goromi-chan. No other guy’s gonna compare.”
Suspicion melts into a half-hearted scowl, and she gives Nishi’s shoulder a mild shove. “Yer so damn full of yerself.”
“Could be you that’s full of me, instead.”
She groans, pressing her face against his shoulder. She can feel him grinning. “I can make it everythin’ you want it to be, angel.”
The affectation returns a third time, casts a gentle, secret smile across her face. Her lips purse briefly, then she’s lifting her head up, leaning in for a kiss, deep and wanting. Nishi’s groan rumbles through her. With his hands groping her ass, they fall back into an easy rhythm of grinding their hips together.
Little moans are traded eagerly, pressed into the other’s mouth. The quiet thud of the club music is grounding, and Goromi thinks she could stay right here, right now, forever.
She eventually feels Nishi’s hands urging her off, guiding her down against the soft duvet with no resistance. Their union is only interrupted briefly when Nishi straddles her, then he’s leaning down for more, pushing her into the bed, and now it’s Goromi’s hands groping his ass instead.
“Mm, is that right? I’ll give you anything, Goromi-chan, just say the word,” he purrs. The suggestion makes her head swim.
“Nuh-uh, you talked yerself up, an’ yer gonna make due on that.”
Nishi shrugs off his suit jacket- somehow, he’s remained entirely clothed up until this point. She smooths her hand up his dark dress shirt and invites herself to begin loosening his hideous tie. The purple silk thing slides off his neck and is promptly cast to the side. “Finally got that damn thing off ya,” Goromi quietly remarks. Nishi grins wolfishly, sneaks a tempting roll of his hips against Goromi’s as her fingers work down the line of buttons to reveal new inches of skin.
The shirt is discarded too, and Goromi finally gets her first good look at her suitor’s body.
Thick waves of black ink start at his pecs, spiralling out into dark cords that weave down to his forearms. Tiger lilies bloom along the sides of his torso, his shoulders.
A constellation of scars scatter across his body, old and fresh. Thick, silvery lines, reminders of where a blade met his skin, puckered dots of old bullet wounds. Lines of prominent muscle, covered in dark whorls of hair that narrow in as they travel down over the softened paunch of his belly.
Goromi lingers on the sight of him, and Nishi sharply grins, clearly pleased with how he’s got her hooked. He reaches out to bring her up to his level, and her hands are drawn to splay over his chest, the pale of her skin pronounced against his darker tan. She feels the clasp of her dress release at the base of her neck, followed by the whir of a zipper being impatiently yanked downward. Her arms are guided out of the sleeves, with vivid snakes and cherry blossoms being revealed.
Despite his eyes intently taking in the sight of her ink, he doesn’t say a word, doesn’t risk tearing the thin veil of fantasy wrapped around them. The dress is slipped down her body, and she leans back, lifts her hips to allow Nishi to slide the garment off her legs.
With or without a dress, Goromi knows she’s a treat for the eyes, smooth skin over lean muscle. Moving to sit on the edge of the bed, she sultrily tilts her head to the side. A strand of hair falls in front of her face, and she arches to bow her chest out to Nishi. Once again, those wild eyes go dark.
Throwing foreplay to the gutters, Nishi just about tears his suit pants from his legs, showing his lower half to be just as battle scarred, toned and dusted with hair. He sheds his briefs, revealing dark ink and vibrant red petals to extend down to his thighs. More dark hair encircles his cock, flushed red and leaking, like he really is about to explode.
Still sultrily posed, Goromi parts her legs, exposing her own arousal trapped by black satin and beckoning the man closer. He’s drawn in towards her, lips parted, his eyeline just above hers and gazing down. Goromi hums, flutters her lashes coyly. “I’m waiting.”
Nishi needs no further provocation, and he bends in for a searing kiss. She feels his hands above her waist, feels herself eased down against the bed. Little kisses trail down her midline, drifting down to the hemline of her panties and the bulge trapped beneath. He’s already had an up-close look, but Nishi’s eyes darken with lust and glitter with awe all the same as he pulls down the hem and frees her arousal. He slips the garment down and off her legs, and it’s tossed away without another thought.
At the sight of Goromi lying bare, he swears under his breath. He presses his hips forward to align his cock with hers, wraps his hand around to stroke them both. They’re both leaking enough to slicken the glide of his fingers, and Nishi’s thrusting upward gently with the pace, rubbing his cockhead against hers. Goromi moans brokenly, her hands tangling in her hair and gripping the duvet tight, and her hips move on their own to follow Nishi’s.
“Fu-uck,” she groans. “Nishi- fuck, yer gonna finish things now if you don’t stop.”
Nishi doesn’t reply at first, transfixed on the sight of their lengths sliding together, and Goromi recognizes the fog in his eyes from before, when he had been on his knees, blissfully suffocating on her dick. She calls his name again and that stills him, pulls his attention up to her with dreamy eyes.
“Yer takin’ way too long down there. Get a move on, wouldya?” Her voice doesn’t match the sternness of her words, breathy and tremulous. The air is cooling against her heated skin, and she’s breaking out in goosebumps. “Please?”
“...yeah, alright,” he finally rumbles out, releasing the two of them. He’s bending down, and Goromi’s breath catches as she prepares for him to swallow her dick again, but his lips stop inches away. She hears the quiet scrape of a drawer opening and closing, and when Nishi straightens, it’s with a bottle of lube in hand. Her pulse quickens.
Finally, he’s rejoining her on the bed, knees on either side of her, leaning down for a kiss, pressing their foreheads together. Even with his tongue swirling in her mouth, she hears him open the bottle. Her stomach twitches in surprise at the cool feel of lube, messily coating Nishi’s fingers with the excess dripping down. He shifts to the side, still connected to Goromi by way of their faces pressed close. “Gonna treat ya so right,” he murmurs, a declaration, hiding a request to proceed.
Her eye flutters shut, she brushes her lips against his. “Yeah. Go ahead.”
Thick, slickened fingers travel between her thighs, and she nearly jumps when a fingerpad brushes against her hole. The same finger slides up to tease the seam of her balls, slides back down again to trace the rim. “Easy, angel,” Nishi murmurs, kissing her cheek. “Relax for me.” More kisses drive the tension away as his finger sinks into her body, and she cradles Nishi’s cheek to keep his lips from straying.
Goromi’s body softens as Nishi fucks her slowly, open and receiving to his touch. Her leg slides up to bend at the knee, spreads out to expose more of herself for him.
A second finger pressing in takes longer, needs more kisses to coax her body into accepting it. She clutches at his shoulder, her nails biting into the skin when she feels the two digits twist inside her. Rough fingerpads tease along her walls, sparking twinges of pleasure and making her cock twitch. She hums into another kiss and feels Nishi smile against her lips. With every stroke, his fingers slide in, tempting that spot with more pressure, and Goromi moans his name, sinks her claws deeper into his shoulder. She feels his fingers curl in and slowly, maddeningly drag against her walls as they withdraw. Her thighs are trembling now, and when Nishi slides back in to press his hooked fingers more insistently against her prostate, rocking back and forth, she can’t help how her legs try to curl back inward.
“Good?” The question is asked low and husky, making Goromi shiver. She hums quietly and nods before stealing another kiss. A third finger joins, and through the stretch, Nishi’s thumb presses against the seam of her balls to massage against sensitive flesh, inside and out. This draws a louder moan from Goromi, higher-pitched and breathy. Her thighs continue to tremble, unable to deter the older man from continuing, and her cock twitches and leaks against her stomach. “How’s that feel?” Her face flushes hot at the question. Thankfully, Nishi doesn’t prod her again to answer.
Nishi persists with his touch, glowing at her noises, eager to draw out more. She rolls her hips against his fingers, gasping when they press into her just right. Nishi’s murmuring words against her throat, and she feels moisture prick at the corner of her eye.
“Can I give you somethin’ more, now?” She nods, feels the lower half of her body trembling. She rolls against the fingers once, twice more, can’t help the noise rising in her throat when those fingers disappear. Nishi soothes the sound away with another kiss.
Spreading her legs, Nishi moves himself between Goromi’s thighs. He ruts his cock against hers, comes in close when Goromi reaches out to clutch at him. “M’right here with ya, angel. Breathe slow. Want you to feel this with me.”
She feels her hips tilt up, propped up by dark, muscled thighs. His cockhead presses to her entrance, and Goromi’s breath hitches. She hears him remind her to breathe slow, and his next kiss is tender as his hips push forward to slowly sink deep into her.
Their shared breaths fill the room. Goromi closes her eye, feels a fat tear escape and roll down her cheekbone. It’s a fragile noise when she calls out his name. “Nishi….”
Gradually, their hips come to press together, and another tear leaks out as she clutches to the older man, adjusting to his presence inside her.
“Oh, Goromi-chan….” She can feel his core winding tight with restraint, eager to feel her. “Yer so fuckin’ amazing.”
She breathes out a weak laugh. “Already got yer dick inside me, you can cool it with the schmoozing now.”
Nishi chuckles, moves down to kiss at her jawline. His hips subtly grind his cock into her. “An absolute dream, yer a goddess. The kinda gal worth burning down cities for.” He noses at her neck.
Goromi rolls her eye, the nerves dissipating again. “Shouldn’t you be fuckin’ me by now, ya sap?” She feels his hum against her neck and lets out a quiet, unstable noise at the sensation of the older man’s cock moving in her, the withdrawal of his hips slow and torturous. It’s equally maddening when his cock slides back in, filling her slowly, completely. The tremor in her thighs makes a reappearance.
“Like this?” he rumbles, his smile pressed to her skin when she replies with a delicate moan. “You feel fuckin’ perfect.”
A rough fuck is what Goromi was expecting, with teeth and nails, adding to the collection of bruises they’d already gifted each other. That would’ve been easier, approachable.
But Nishi keeps his pace slow, rocking into Goromi with groans, quiet rumbling noises rising from his chest. Her hips rock upward to meet his with every thrust, now attuned to the sensation of his cock inside her. It’s a warm, slow bliss glowing within her. She matches his groans with quiet sighs.
“Fuck, Goromi-chan,” he breathes against her collarbone. She feels him bite and suck a mark onto her skin and wonders if the bruise will linger. Nishi’s knees slide forward, lifting her hips up further, and the next stroke has his cockhead rubbing exquisitely along her insides, spurring her to fluidly roll up into the motion.
Nishi leans up, exposing her heated skin to the air. His hands sweep down her body and come to palm at her thighs. As he fucks into her slowly, deliberately, his thumbs massage over the tender skin of her inner thighs, the roughness of his fingers setting the delicate skin alight. In this position, Goromi can’t do much beyond take what she’s given, and her hands come down to cover his.
Nishi’s staring devotedly down at her, face slackened and entranced, purple lip prints stamped across the lower half of his face. Goromi’s chest flutters- she closes her eye and swallows thickly. She hears Nishi say over and over again how goddamn beautiful she is, how good it feels to be inside her, and her cheeks burn.
“Fuckin’....... stop it,” she manages to get out, regretting instantly when Nishi’s hips still, his cock halfway inside her. “No, shit, keep doing that, I mean, fuck, just stop talking.”
Nishi looks smug, but he goes quiet. That’s no escape though, because now he’s lifting her arm, pressing delicate kisses to the bend of her wrist while he rocks down into her. His expression borders on unbearable and she squeezes her eye shut again, silently cursing when another tear escapes to roll off and down her cheekbone.
Goromi knows what this is, and it isn’t just fucking. Too sincere and sweet. Majima would’ve put an end to this, maybe beat the guy bloody. But.... maybe Goromi can enjoy this.
Maybe she deserves this.
She wants this.
Goromi wills herself to open her eye and endure Nishi gazing down at her. When she cradles his cheek, he gifts her a grin, reserved yet still lurid and adoring in that trademark Nishitani style.
Nishi scoops an arm under her leg, pulls it up to hook her knee over his shoulder, then the other. Flexible as she is, the position tilts her hips once more, and she feels his cock sink that much deeper into her. She groans at the stretch, lets her hand fall to the bed. Little kisses are dotted over the inside of her leg.
The gentle, intimate movements of before give way to firmer, sharper thrusts. Breathy moans are pulled out of her, soft, delicate sounds. She doesn’t know what to do with her hands now, she reaches for Nishi, something to grab and anchor her. Nishi obliges her, threading his fingers into hers with one hand, gripping her hip tight with the other. Harder, faster, he fucks into her, and Goromi’s pleasured cries grow in pitch and volume, until she’s tilting her head back and moaning loud and unrestricted. “Oh, fuck, Nishi-!” Her knuckles blanch with how tightly she grips his hand. Fingers press deep into her hips.
The rhythmic slapping of skin against skin joins the pleasured cries and dull ‘thud’ of music in the air. It all feels good, feels damn good, and she takes her dick in hand, stroking in time with Nishi plowing into her. Nishi curses at the sight, pumps into her harder.
Goromi lolls her head to the side, surprised to see her reflection staring right back at her. Body bent in two, her cock in hand, her long hair splayed out over the bedspread. Her lips parted and panting, a much fainter shade of purple. Her face flushed warm and glowing, expressing the energy soaring through her chest. She cracks a smile. What a pretty little picture you make.
Nishi’s his own sight to behold, attention focused on the real her, providing her a new angle to marvel at his devoted expression. Goromi watches his reflection pound into her, prominent thigh muscles flexing with each thrust. The cut on his hairline has stopped bleeding, leaving a deep red trail drying against his skin. A bead of sweat trickles over a perfect lip print on his cheek and strands of his hair stick to his temples and forehead.
His eyes follow her gaze to the mirror, and now he’s devouring her reflection too.
“Oh yeah? Fuck, angel, lookit you. Fuckin’ gorgeous, fuckin’.... mngh.” He presses his face to the side of her knee, like he’s trying to keep his composure from slipping at the sight of her. The next moan out of Goromi hides a laugh, charmed by Nishi’s adoring words dissolving back into heady groans. She hears him chuckle too, a sound that sweetens in her chest.
“Wanna..... Fuck, hold on, wanna,” he breathes out, forcing himself to slow his pace. He soothes Goromi’s confusion with a hand smoothing down her chest. “Wanna see more of you. Just a second, c’mere.”
Her legs slide off his shoulders, muscles aching at the unusual stretch. The stark loss of Nishi’s dick sliding out is blunted by a passionate, starved kiss. She feels dizzy, breathless, and goes easily with the older man pulling her up. Nishi’s still giving her kisses, moving from her lips to her cheek to her shoulder as he maneuvers her to kneel right in front of the mirror.
“Ready? Here, watch with me,” Nishi’s arm slips in from behind Goromi’s, reaching to hold her chin, fixing her gaze straight forward. There’s a hot hardness pressing against her entrance, and she witnesses her face fall slack as Nishi pushes into her. Her eye rolls up, lidded. Her body sings at the feeling of being full again, filled with him.
Nishi’s watching her too, glittering eyes behind her shoulder, and he shudders as he enters her, absolutely captivated by the sight reflected back at them. He lets out a guttural moan. “Holy fuck.”
He fully seats himself inside her, hands seemingly unsure of exactly what part of her lithe body to grab at. His fingers sink into her hips and wrap around her cock- they both twitch with Goromi’s surprised moan and the feeling of her tightening around him. Goromi’s hand flies to clutch the hand sinking into her hip, her other hand reaching behind to bring Nishi’s head forward, pressing it to the side of hers.
With his hand on her dick and his dick buried in her, all she can do is surrender herself to his touch. Hips roll forward into Nishi’s hand, her length sliding along rough fingers, then rock backward to sink back onto his cock.
“Nishi.... Fuck, Nishi, yes...” His name trickles, then pours from her lips until it’s just another sound echoing in the room. Rough callouses leave a trail across her skin as his hand shifts upward, his muscled arm now wrapped around her chest and holding her tight. Goromi’s hand can’t help but follow, and their hands clasp against her chest.
They’re entangled in each other’s embrace, limbs wrapped tight around each other and hips rolling in unison. Nishi’s hand sweeps up and down Goromi’s cock. The reflection in the mirror starts to blur, no, that’s just more tears welling up in her eye, spilling down her cheek. Nishi catches the hitch in her breath with her next moan. At the sight of her tears, he squeezes her hand tight, nuzzles feverishly against her neck.
“Fuck, s’alright, you’re perfect, Goromi-chan. You’re so fuckin’ perfect.” A half-moan half-sob is wrenched from her chest, and Nishi holds her that much tighter against him, keeping her from slipping away.
Her cock is leaking over his fist, her core tightening with her approaching orgasm. “Put yer hands up on the mirror for me. Perfect, jus’ like that,” he praises as Goromi obliges him almost automatically, fog outlining her hands where they press against the glass. He kisses her shoulder and rises up, takes firm hold of her hips.
His cock suddenly drives deep into her body, forcing Goromi forward an inch, her press-on nails curling and scratching into the mirror glass. Her moan is cut off by his next thrust, and she’s barely able to get out another noise as he pounds hard and fast into her.
“Nn, Ni- Nishi,” she cries out, feeling white hot and ethereal. Every thrust shoots lightning through her core, sharp stabs of pleasure growing and building into something more cataclysmic. Behind her, Nishi’s head is dropped low, gaze fixated on the place where they meet, his cock vigorously pumping into her. He swears harshly as he feels her tighten up around him, grips her waist that much tighter to fuck every drop of pleasure out of her.
He doesn’t have to wait long, a wordless, near-agonized cry ripping from Goromi’s throat as she tips over the edge, her dick throbbing and twitching, painting the mirror glass with thin spurts. Her second orgasm tonight, the euphoria blazes through her, hot and intense and unyielding, uncaring of how her body spasms and shakes. Nishi’s still fucking her, every thrust forward a new white-hot burst.
“Fuck, fuckfuckfuckfuckfuck,” Nishi rambles with the feeling of her quivering body pulling him in, coaxing him to join her. He leans forward and his hand darts to find Goromi’s dick and stroke roughly, earning him a loud, broken wail. His balls draw up tight as he thrusts deep, hard enough to make the bed shift, and he spills into her body with a strangled growl, grinding his hips against her ass, as if he could fuck her any deeper. Their labored moans blend together through the searing rush, the white-hot aching through their joined bodies.
“N-Nishi, stop,” she eventually begs, a trembling arm collapsing from the mirror to reach down and still his hand.
Nishi groans against her back, his hips still possessed to grind forward into her. His hand ceases and retreats upward, massaging circles over her stomach. It feels like there’s cotton in her ears, and the adoration he's showering over her is blunted to a steady hum of rough, smoky tones.
Firm arms pull her weight to rest back against him, holding her steady as he lowers them to the bed. Nishi presses a kiss to the knob at the top of her spine, presses his face to her hair, and sighs. His hands won’t stop moving, rough fingertips teasing against the shivering skin of her stomach, her chest. The spiced cologne cloaks over her body, and a hand sneaks down to the inside of her thigh. “Goromi-chan,” she hears him breathe against the back of her head. “Can’t believe you’ve been hidin’ from me fer this long.”
Trapped in the stare of her own reflection, Goromi feels like a stripped wire. Exposed and volatile, only grounded by Nishi’s embrace. “....I can’t stay here.”
“Course ya can,” he murmurs, kissing her shoulder.
Her face burns red hot. “I..... I need to go.”
“An’ why’s that?” Nishi wraps an arm around her hips, pulls her against him. “Place doesn’t open again 'til evening, right? Plenty of time to get back there, don’t gotta rush.”
The swirling ache in Goromi’s chest pushes an explanation out of her. “....They have to see me walk outta the Grand an’ back to my apartment.”
Nishi presses his damp forehead to her back. She feels the heat of his sigh rushing down her skin. “....yer on that short of a leash, huh.” A rough hand finds hers, and he tries to weave their fingers together. “Don’t see the point-”
“You don’t need to see the point.” It’s Majima’s voice that cuts Nishi off. She yanks her hand away, and the air grows a degree colder.
“....hm.” He- She can feel Nishi closing back up, the tenderness of his hold withering away. “Well. In that case,” he slides his arms out and away from Goromi, and she watches him sit up in the mirror. A trace of despondency quickly smooths out from his expression, locked away and replaced with his usual machismo. His hand lands on her hip in a firm, emotionless pat.
“There’s a shower in here, if you need to go pretty yerself up again.” Goromi feels numb as his hand slips away and he moves off the bed. She hears the rustling of clothes, and her gaze flickers down the mirror to watch Nishitani briskly redress himself, sliding on his pants, cloaking the chaotic storm of ink on his back with his shirt.
“Thanks for the lay, sweetheart. Stay as long as you want, let yerself out whenever.” There’s no goodbye granted to her before she hears the door swing open, and just as quickly click shut.
Now it’s just her, and the monotonous thud coming from outside the room. She looks so much smaller in the mirror now.
Robotically, she lifts herself from the bed, moves smoothly back onto solid ground. She sees her discarded clothes and her heels in a loose pile by the wall.
Goromi moves quietly down the hall to the bathroom. The interior is just as grossly lavish as the rest of the space- she spies a walk-in shower, next to a giant tub, with what look like water jets lining the walls.
And yet, despite Nishi’s presence and style woven into everything here, the bathroom is relatively barren, almost unused. She removes her eyepatch to set aside on a counter space. There’s a bottle of cheap body wash in the corner of the walk-in. Turning on the faucet, she lets the hot pressured spray immediately pummel her back and drench her hair. She scrubs all traces of makeup off her face, scrubs the lingering scent of perfume from her wrists and neck, scrubs away the dripping between her thighs, scrubs hard all across her skin until it’s an agitated red.
Wringing her hair with a towel, she advances towards the mirror above the sink unflinchingly. Without the gold and violet tones delicately dressed upon her face, she looks pale, gaunt. A husk.
Unsurprisingly, the room is still empty when she walks back out to collect her clothes. She slips her legs through her panties dispassionately, steps into and shrugs on her dress. She’s able to zip it up, but she fumbles with the clasp and quickly gives up. Her hair is pulled up tight into a ponytail- she’s still Goromi, still needs to look the part -and she steps into her heels, feeling the balls of her feet complain of returning so soon to the cramped position.
She searches briefly, then her eye lands on her clutch, abandoned on the bed. Nearby, she sees the ruffled duvet where their bodies had embraced, sees scratches and smudges on the mirror where her hands had been planted, sees the- she grimaces and snatches up the clutch, not bothering to switch off the light before exiting.
The club is still lively, synth blasting and bass thudding in her skull. No magenta-colored encounters occur as she threads through the crowd, a relief and an immense disappointment. Her entrance had been a spectacle, but her exit is an afterthought, and she briskly steps back out into the Sotenbori streets, mind set on finding a taxi cab and absolutely nothing else.
She’s dropped off three blocks away from the Grand, quickly slipping into an alleyway that runs along the back of several businesses. There’s a shared entryway for deliveries, and she navigates the hall down to the door marked ‘UTILITY’ on the other side, leading into the cabaret.
His tuxedo is waiting for him, sits folded neatly on the shelf in one of the lockers in the dressing room. She casts a last glance in the mirror, says goodbye to Goromi for now, and strips down completely.
His next movements are numb, practiced. The dress is shoved under other garments in the laundry cart, to be inconspicuously washed and rehung the next day. Heels are wiped down and set back in place alongside the others. He keeps the satin panties, peels off the fake nails and roughly picks away at the remaining adhesive stuck to his nails. He dismally tugs his tuxedo back on, loosens his hair back down into a lower ponytail. He avoids all mirrors as he slides the clutch into an inner coat pocket. He exits the dressing room, and slowly, deliberately walks out the cabaret entrance.
There are nights when he does legitimately have to stay late for dreary managerial tasks, which is why he’s relatively confident that Sagawa won’t pay a visit tomorrow and ask him why he was burning the midnight oil. His gait is slow down the sidewalk, blandly crossing the bridge and turning at corners until he’s at the riverside. The metal steps leading up to his apartment clunk dully beneath his feet. When he breathes in the stale air of the dreary room he calls home, he’s longing for just a hint of the spice that filled his lungs-
No. Not his lungs. Which means there’s no reason for his chest to feel any hollower than usual. He strips down a third and final time for the night, reflexively bringing his hand up to tuck a nonexistent strand behind his ear-
Fuck. The earrings. He’s only noticing now that the black teardrops are still fixed against the lobes of his ears. He hurriedly takes them out, looks around the room, as if his around-the-clock wardens are hidden only a few feet away.
He has to hope that no one caught sight of them. Such a simple oversight could be the catalyst for his whole world to come crashing down, maybe even plunge him back into the Hole that he clawed his way out of. He rifles through his suit jacket to find the clutch, opens and slips the earrings inside to replace the next day, when his eye catches a flash of color nestled inside the bag. His hand trembles as he extracts the object for closer examination.
A lavender tie, rolled up neatly, now sitting in the palm of his hand. A thought wanders in, that the color actually matches the hue of her lipstick quite nicely.
In a moment of weakness, he brings the gift up to his face, presses his nose to the fabric and breathes in deeply.
The spiced aroma fills his lungs, and for a moment, he doesn’t feel so hollow.