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Adachi laid in bed, listening to the clock tick. The dim and dying lightbulb of his bedside lamp casted short shadows, highlighting the abstract spots on his ceiling. He stared up at them, reflecting on what he had done earlier that week, the scene replaying in his head.
“Why do I have to explain myself to you?" Yamano had asked. That bitch didn't even deny that she's a homewrecker. And then threatening to call for help? Who would they have believed, the whore, or the cop? It certainly doesn't matter now.
Adachi sighed and turned over, adjusting his gaze to the television. How strange. Ms. Yamano went right in without any issues. He didn't care enough to ask questions- all he knows is it worked, and she had it coming. If she was going to be a slut anyway, why wouldn't she even give him a chance? What a selfish bitch. Didn't she realize that he deserved it? He's been deprived, and she caught his eye.
Deprived doesn't even begin to describe it. Twenty-eight and a virgin- what a loser. Whatever, he didn't need anyone anyway. Adachi groaned and let his hands wander down. How many more times does he have to be the one to touch himself? His life is miserable, the least the universe could do for him is send some hot chicks his way. Ones that want him too. Ones that will touch him in ways that are more satisfying than his own hand.
His belt buckle clinked off, and there was a rustling of fabric as he thoughtlessly shoved his pants and boxers down. Still entirely soft, he absently massaged himself while trying to stir up some sort of thought to help him out here. Adachi's mind circled back on Mayumi Yamano. Her kind eyes, thin hair, soft lips, perky tits… God, he wished he could've gotten a look. That did something for him, but apparently not enough, as he was still a little limp. He imagined her nice lips around him. He figured it would be wet, maybe she'd make some noises, gag a little… There we go.
Still curled in bed, Adachi pumped himself into his hand. His imagination proved vivid enough for him to have something to jerk off to. He thought about Yamano in the TV world. She was probably scared. He would bet she regretted not letting him hit. It could have been so simple if she hadn't denied him. If only she knew what was going to happen to her. As Adachi's breath quickened, so did his hand.
Then he heard his phone ring. Seriously? Can he not do anything? Adachi looked at his phone- of course it's Dojima. He let out a frustrated sigh before answering, preparing to get into character.
“Dojima-san? Did you need something?” Adachi asked kindly.
“Adachi!" Dojima barked back, his voice fuzzy over the phone. "I've been texting you. You were on call tonight you idiot!”
Adachi rolled his eyes. He blankly kept his hand on his erection.
“Oh, was I?" He feigned forgetfulness. Dojima’s voice rang through loudly and with an incredulous tone.
"How stupid are you?!” Adachi's heart skipped a beat at this. He decided not to get too hard- er, think too hard about that right now, but he'd go with it.
“Um, what do you mean sir?" He asked innocently. Was he playing it up too much now? Adachi pictured the detective. Stern features, a square jaw with a 5 o’clock shadow, big arms, and insufferable as his superior. He stroked himself as he imagined Dojima's figure.
“I mean you'd better bring your ass down to the station now, dumbass. Be here in ten minutes!” Dojima nearly shouted.
"Sorry, I'll be right there.” Adachi's voice cracked and his breath hitched. Oh God.
There was an awkward pause from Dojima. It seems like he had noticed. “Uh… Is everything okay over there?”
“Yeah, yeah… I’ll be there.” Adachi grumbled.
Another awkward pause. Should he hang up now? He wasn’t so sure. It seemed like Dojima wasn’t either.
“Um… you can keep talking, you know. I wouldn’t mind…” The words escaped his mouth without realizing. He should hang up. Now.
“...What?” Adachi could just imagine the other man’s face. His brows furrowed with concern and confusion, his face a little red. He’s seen him like that when drunk a few times. But sober? That would be new. “Adachi, what are you doing? I told you to be here ASAP.” Dojima’s voice was still stern and sharp, snapping him back to reality, but it had softened in volume considerably. Adachi wondered if anyone else was in the office with the other man. He didn’t really care. He just needed to get off, and it was Dojima’s fault for calling him this late anyway.
“Just… keep talking.” He strained. His hand continued to move along himself. He figured it was too late to back out at this point- he might as well commit. “Come on Dojima, lighten up.” The detective took a moment to respond; he was probably standing there in shock, unsure of what to say next. Adachi impatiently waited for a response.
“Okay…” Dojima began hesitantly. “What do you want? Make it quick.” He was clearly trying to be quiet, his voice lower in pitch and volume than Adachi has ever heard it. Score. He was astonished that his superior agreed at all, surprised that he didn’t hang up immediately.
“Is anyone around?”
"Only one other person. We're short on staff tonight, which is why you need to be here, you lazy son of a bitch.” The detective hissed back.
Adachi let out a shaky breath, his face scrunched in pleasure. Normally, it pissed him off when Dojima talked down to him like that. But in this particular instance, he wanted nothing but to hear more of it.
"You need me there that badly?”
"Adachi, you know I don't mean it like that-”
"Come on, Dojima”
The man stammered.
Adachi figured that he probably wouldn't say something like that, his pride wouldn't allow for it, but the idea of his superior begging for him was extremely appealing right then. He hoped to God he'd just humor him.
Dojima let out a frustrated sigh. “Please, Adachi, I need you here." He spat.
No way. Is it really that easy with him? Maybe he should try this more often. Given that Dojima was always moping around about his dead wife, he should have known the guy would be desperate for any kind of catharsis. Not that he's any better.
No one had ever expressed any kind of need for him. This was good. He shifted his position, propped himself upright, and continued to stroke himself. He desperately cradled the phone to his ear with his free hand.
"Don’t sound too upset. Tell me more.” Did that come across as confidently as he’d hoped?
“I'm not doing that.”
"Please, sir." Maybe appealing to his authority might make him a little more malleable.
"I-” Dojima's voice caught, "Dammit Adachi. If you would just come to the station that would make this a whole lot easier.”
Adachi froze, and his eyes widened. He figured the guy would be touch starved but seriously? That was quick. It barely took any convincing. It was almost boring. Almost.
“Sounds like a plan then, sir.” He said tentatively. He shut his phone before he could hear Dojima’s response, and sat back up in his bed, in disbelief. That’s one way to motivate him to get him to work.
______________________________________________________
Dojima waited at the office, stealing continuous glances at the clock. How far did that idiot live from here? Was he actually stupid enough to forget he was supposed to come in tonight, or was he just an asshole? Whatever the answers may have been, they weren’t nearly as pressing as the anticipation he felt. He fidgeted with his pen, attempting to work on paperwork.
Headlights peeked through the office blinds, and at long last the building’s door squeaked open.
“I’m in here.” Dojima spoke up from his office. He heard Adachi’s footsteps approach. How was this going to go? He was regretting the things he had said already.
“Maybe we shouldn’t…” Dojima started hesitantly.
Adachi shut the door behind him and strode towards Dojima.
“Don’t start getting cold feet now, I just got here.” He said with faux brightness, already undoing his belt. This is the most confidence Dojima had ever seen in this guy. Why now? He couldn’t bring himself to continue to look him in the eyes, so he instead watched him fiddle with his belt.
As he pulled his pants down, Adachi noticed Dojima’s avoidance. He doesn’t want to have to look at him? Fine.
Adachi grabbed Dojima by the back of the head, and swiftly pushed his face onto his temporarily flaccid dick. “Open your mouth.” He demanded. Dojima complied, his face already flushed. He didn’t have to suck very long for Adachi to get hard again. The man was still trying to get used to Adachi’s hands gripping his head like he owed him money. No wonder Adachi never had any girls around, this is just terrible.
Dojima was gagging and saliva was pooling and he was uncomfortable, his nose becoming stuffy. Dojima grunted, trying to back off. After a few more greedy thrusts into his mouth, Adachi pulled away.
“What?” Adachi scowled at Dojima.
Dojima coughed. “What is your problem Adachi?!” he asked, indignant. “I can barely fucking breathe like that!”
Adachi scoffed. “Oh please. Stop your whining, you can handle it.” His fingers were still clenched in Dojima's hair.
“You are such a jackass…” Dojima grumbled. He maneuvered himself out of the squeaky office chair, and onto his knees on the floor, regardless. He looked up at Adachi, studying his features. He wasn’t bad looking per se, but not particularly attractive. Apparently his dumbass subordinate was going to be the person he’d have any kind of intimacy with after his wife's passing. What a horrible thought. It was one that didn’t linger long however, because Dojima was quickly distracted by Adachi once again using his mouth like a sex toy.
The room was filled with unsavory sounds of squelching and gagging, peppered with obnoxious grunts from Adachi that sounded like he was simply mimicking whatever he had heard in pornos. (“Oh yeah,” and “You like that, don’t you?”) All the while, Dojima was on his knees, barely even hard at all. To him, this was definitely a mistake. Too late to back out now, he supposed.
Dojima sat there, allowing himself to be used. He clenched his eyes shut, hardly trying to be present in the situation, just acknowledging the sensation of Adachi’s dick being shoved into his mouth and throat unceremoniously.
Eventually, Adachi became tense, his breathing shortened, and he pulled on Dojima’s hair as he came down his superior’s throat. Dojima gagged at the new sensation. When Adachi pulled himself out, the older man began to cough and wheeze, trying to regain his breath.
“Sorry about that…” Adachi began, before realizing he had nothing else to say and trailing off. He looked down at Dojima, who appeared completely unimpressed, mostly just tired.
Adachi took a glance around the room, attempting to avoid eye contact with Dojima. He pulled his pants back up, and slunk out of the cluttered office without another word.