Leaving home...

Hikaru, also known as Shinju, stood in the shadows of the dimly lit club, a bottle of water still cold from the cool store held negligently in a slender hand. As always he interacted with none of the club's other patrons much beyond a nod or a small smile, and as always he spent the time there cruising from scene to scene just... watching. And being watched. At nineteen Shinju was a classic example of Eurasian beauty, petite and slender, his skin a creamy smooth perfection, his large eyes dark and enigmatic and thick, black hair that fell shining to his waist. It didn't hurt he was wearing only the briefest, black leather thong, incongruously – but not unpleasantly – coupled with a pair of black knee-high motorcycle boots, the silver side buckles burnished and gleaming in the low light.
       Shinju had been coming to this BDSM club, the NightStick, for two years - more or less - since he was seventeen. First visiting wide-eyed and blushing on a dare with some school friends only to return two nights later on his own, drawn there by the smell of sex and leather, and the stirring of something, like-to-like, in his soul.
      He enjoyed his visits to NightStick, especially now he was considered a 'regular'. The other regulars knew about and respected his 'hands off' policy and it was really only newcomers that gave him any grief. But happily, he hadn't had to smack an overly persistent fuckwit into the ground for months now. It wasn't that Shinju didn't want to play, he did, desperately, it was just that he hadn't met anyone yet that he wanted to play with. He'd had invitations aplenty, naturally, and when it was discovered he was a bona fide virgin – not just to the BDSM scene but to sex in general – he was offered staggering amounts of money by people, men and women, who wanted the privilege of initiating him. Shinju had refused them all, politely mostly, though there were some who'd tried to push the issue and forcibly take what he wasn't willing to give. What was left of those unfortunate individuals served as a messy warning to others – Shinju had been studying various forms of armed and unarmed martial arts since he was a toddler, he could look out for himself. So the beautiful boy was left unmolested to watch, and learn, and hunger.

NightStick was full tonight, Shinju noted, lots of new faces mixed in with the usuals, lots to see. He stood for a while watching a plump, pretty woman of indeterminate age being gagged and blind-folded, then bound spread-eagled over a narrow table, after which her husband invited people, anyone, to touch her, taste her, anything they wanted short of fucking her while he whispered in her ear how beautiful she was, how desirable, and described the looks of lust and longing of the faces of her unknown molesters. Shinju smirked to himself, he'd known Trixie and John for over a year now; this was their particular kink and they were happy with it. Trixie's cunt was already glistening wet and she was moaning through the gag, give them another half-hour and John would be leading her, still blind-folded and gagged, to one of the upstairs room where they'd finish their night in privacy. Shinju moved on through the crowd, stopping occasionally, observing, hoarding the vicarious experiences for later when he could weave what he'd absorbed into his fantasies while he stroked himself to orgasm.
      His mind wasn't fully occupied with the club's activities tonight though. Shinju was restless - well, it was more accurate to say he'd been restless for weeks but today he'd been even more unsettled than usual, almost walking out of the History lecture (Urban conflicts in the late 20th century) with the compelling need to be somewhere other than in the stultifying atmosphere of the university. Shinju had grown up assuming, for want of any other hopes or plans for himself, that he'd finish school, go on to uni and study history and languages in preparation for following his father into the British foreign office or diplomatic service. Getting his place at the prestigious university had been easy, he'd been an honour student all his life, but now he was there he had no sense of accomplishment or achievement, no sense of purpose. In short, Hikaru Dawson had no clear idea of what he wanted to do with his life and it was beginning to bother him.

Shinju was absently sipping from the water bottle when he realised he was being watched, closely. He sighed, knowing it had to be a newcomer to the club, none of the regulars observed him in quite that way anymore. He recapped the bottle and then, hands on hips, turned to look his watcher square in the face.
      And faltered...
      Shinju wasn't prone to fanciful musings but he could swear the tall man in the long leather coat had spent his last incarnation as a wolf. The lupine impression intensified as the stranger loped slowly towards him, a small half-smile on his long, angled face and a distinctly predatory gleam in his dark eyes. Shinju fought down the urge to back away from him, stubbornly holding his ground as the man advanced to loom over him.
      "Hello." A rich, deep voice, cultured English with a trace of something European to round it out to a velvet smoothness. Shinju didn't reply – to be honest, he couldn't, finding himself tongue-tied for the first time in his life – and settled for a sardonic twitch of a fine eyebrow. The man was close enough now that Shinju caught the enticing smell of leather wafting from his coat, and the warm, woody spice of another scent, aftershave perhaps? The stranger's eyes were a lustrous grey, not – as Shinju thought they should be – the fathomless gold of the wild creature he favoured.
      "Come with me." Neither an order or a request but still the tone of command had Shinju nodding dumbly and turning to follow the man, hoping his suddenly watery legs wouldn't fail him.
      Five of the man's long-legged paces on, sanity raised its unwelcome head and Shinju stopped dead.
      What the fuck? Was he really about to go off with a perfect stranger?
      A perfect stranger – the words slithered through his consciousness.
      "Wait." Shinju ordered.
      The man looked back over his shoulder, a small, amused smile playing over his mouth.
      "Kiss me." Shinju demanded with a defiant tilt to his chin. The stranger's face was transformed by his mischievous grin into something playful and open.
      "If you insist."
      Smiling, he tipped Shinju's chin up with his fingers, angling the beautiful face just so before stooping to brush a soft kiss over the tempting lips. Shinju quivered and grabbed the front of the man's coat, yanking him back down as he went to straighten up.
      "Again." he ordered hoarsely. The man complied, pressing his broad, strong body close this time, sliding his hands up over the sides of Shinju's neck to cup the back of his head as he leisurely explored the smaller man's lips and mouth with his own. Shinju swayed in the man's grip, dark eyes drifting closed as his world sharply narrowed to the unfamiliar, but delightfully heady sensation of being aroused by someone else's touch. Just as Shinju thought he was going to drown in the kiss, the man gently pulled away; his hands stayed where they were, their broad strength both comforting and supporting. Shinju's eyelids fluttered open to look into grey eyes warm with amusement.
      "Okay," Shinju swallowed shakily, "we can go now."
      The man released him and smiled, combing his fingers through the heavy black silk of Shinju's hair then turned and strode towards the club's entrance, the younger man floating without apparent volition behind him.
      At the 'reception' desk the stranger asked after a room. Behind the desk, the heavy-set, tightly-corseted woman blinked a startled enquiry at Shinju, who nodded. The woman beamed at the tall man.
      "You have no idea how lucky you are," she gushed, "he's…"
      "Thank you, Bella," Shinju cut her off irritably, holding out his hand for the key. She blinked again, then grinned wickedly.
      "Have fun." Bella purred after them as Shinju led the man through the heavy, scarlet velvet curtain to the stairwell.

Once in the room, the reality of what he was about to do brought an alien shyness to Shinju. He stood, awkwardly, a measured distance from the brocade covered bed.
      "What's your name?" the man was leaning back against the door, arms folded across his chest, watching him closely.
      "Shinju."
      "Japanese?" he tipped his head slightly to the side.
      "Yes, means 'pearl'. My grandmother called me that when I was a baby." Oh yes, like he really wants to know that, dumbarse – Shinju growled silently to himself – just shut the fuck up and get on with it.
      "My name's Marco," the man pushed himself away from the door, "why don't you sit down?"
      Shinju shrugged, the epitome of cool nonchalance, and gingerly sat on the edge of the bed, his breath hitching in his throat when Marco sat beside him.
      "You're very beautiful," he stroked Shinju's hair.
      "So I've been told."
      "By many?" Marco's smile was teasing.
      "Plenty," Shinju smirked, and then prompted by a perplexing urge for total candour, he added: "but never in this situation."
      Marco frowned, his hand stilling mid-stroke.
      "What do you mean?"
      "I mean," Shinju said quietly, "this is my first time."
      "You're joking?" The tall man blinked, but blessedly didn't laugh, something Shinju wouldn't have been able to bear. He shook his head, raising his face to gaze solemnly at Marco.
      "I'm not."
      "Oh." The man shoved his hand through his shoulder-length shaggy dark hair. "Oh." Grey eyes concerned, Marco gently touched Shinju's cheek. "Are you sure you want to do this?"
      Shinju nodded.
      "I'm... honoured." Marco half-smirked, though his gaze was serious.
      "Just show me how good it can be and we'll call it even." Shinju grinned impishly.
      "Stand up." Marco said after a long, considered moment, "In front of me."
      Shinju moved gracefully to obey, a low burn of excitement starting in the pit of his stomach.
      "Beautiful." Marco breathed, "Now what am I going to do with you?"
      "Everything." Shinju smirked, all shyness gone.
      "Everything? That'll take years."
      "Better get started then."
      Marco laughed and reached for him.

This was definitely worth waiting for, Shinju thought hazily as Marco slowly, skilfully – Shinju had witnessed enough sex to understand there was real skill being lavished on him here - tormented him closer and closer to a second orgasm. The first had happened embarrassingly quickly; all it had taken was for Marco to nuzzle his neck while sliding a big hand inside Shinju's thong to give his cock a firm squeeze and the younger man had climaxed with a startled cry.
      "Oh shit," Shinju gasped, clutching at Marco's broad shoulders. "Sorry."
      "'S'allright," the older man smirked lop-sidedly at him, guiding him to the bed, "it means you'll last longer before the next one."
      Shinju flopped backwards, catching his breath as Marco stood and shrugged out of his heavy leather coat, folding it carefully over the back of a high-backed wooden chair. Standing there in his leather trousers and black linen shirt, eyes gleaming out from beneath a spiky fringe, Marco gave the impression of nothing less than a corsair prince, something straight off the covers of the trashy novels Shinju's aunt read.
      "Where's your ship?" Shinju giggled.
      "Pardon?" Marco stopped in the act of undoing his belt.
      "Nothing," the younger man smirked, "are you going to fuck me now?"
      "In a moment," Marco chuckled, "patience, boy."
      "'Boy'?" Shinju raised himself up on his elbows to glower at the tall man. Marco didn't answer, he was too busy pulling Shinju's now damp and sticky thong down and out of the way so he could engulf the young man's already stirring penis within his capable mouth.
      "Ah… fuck!" Shinju yelped, arching back and twisting his fingers in the bedclothes as Marco sucked, hard, then lay there rigid and quivering as his companion tortured him exquisitely, keeping him just this side of coming.
      "M-marco, please..." Shinju whimpered.
      "Not yet, beautiful," Marco purred, licking firmly behind Shinju's balls, "got a way to go yet." Grinning, he pulled away. "Help me get undressed."
      "I don't think I can move." Shinju said limply.
      "Move, boy, or there'll be nothing else for you." Marco's smouldering grin indicated he knew just how much he was taking his life in his hands. Shinju pouted and struggled upright, heaving a melodramatic sigh at the sight of his painfully hard cock jutting up proudly from his body.
      "I'll take care of that later," Marco wrapped a large, warm hand around Shinju's erection, stroking firmly just once, making the younger man whimper, "but first..." Wrapping his hand around the back of Shinju's head, Marco forced his face closer to his groin - not that there was much resistance. Grinning, Shinju nuzzled at the sizeable bulge beneath the black leather, one slender hand trailing up the other's inside thigh. Marco drew in a shuddering breath, fisting his fingers in silky black hair.
      "Do you know what to do?" he murmured.
      "I'm not stupid," Shinju gave him a look as his palm slid flatly over Marco's groin.
      "No, no, you're not." Marco conceded with a smile. "Come on," he pushed his pelvis forward into Shinju's face, impacting lightly with his nose, "Show me what you can do."
      Shinju grinned and hooked his fingers over the waistband, fumbling a little as he undid the single button there, his eyes involuntarily widening and a blush appearing on his cheeks as he carefully pulled the zip down to reveal Marco in all his rapidly hardening glory.
      Big. Getting bigger. Those were the only intelligible words Shinju could come up with. To his limited experience - never having had his nose this close to a fully grown male's erect penis before - Marco seemed to be intimidatingly well-proportioned.
      "Everything okay?" Marco asked, stroking Shinju's hair back from his forehead.
      Oh yes." Shinju said huskily, cradling Marco's heavy testicles in one hand, the other smoothing over silky, beguilingly musky skin.
      Marco smiled down at the look of naked reverence on the young man's face – if there were any doubts about this kid's sexuality...
      "So...?" Marco rocked his hips minutely, reminding Shinju of why he was there. The younger man blinked, then smirked upwards.
      "So I guess you want me to suck you off?"
      "The delicacy of your speech is bringing tears to my eyes," Marco grinned, "but yes, please, feel free."
      Hesitantly Shinju took the tip of Marco's penis between his lips, savouring the heat and hardness, the slight saltiness he could just begin to taste. Slowly at first, but then with more enthusiasm as he realised he wasn't causing the big man any discomfort - far from it if his throaty groans were an indication – Shinju experimented, sliding the big cock in and out of his mouth, working out where best to press with his tongue, relishing all of Marco's twitches and shudders, his involuntary vocalisations. This was lots more fun than he'd imagined and the power of having this sort of control over someone...
      "Enough!" Marco gasped, pushing Shinju away, "I haven't finished with you yet."
      "What?" Shinju smirked, wiping his lips, "Don't think you could get it up again?"
      "Yes I could," Marco's eyes gleamed, "but I want to come in your arse first." The tall man almost laughed at the sudden look of wide-eyed lust and trepidation that appeared on Shinju's face. "How about it?" he smirked, palming his penis.
      Shinju shivered and licked his lips nervously.
      "Okay."
      Marco grinned, swiftly stooping to kiss him before heeling off his black ankle boots and undoing the buttons of his shirt. Shinju watched fascinated, as Marco's body was revealed. Pale olive skin, stretched smoothly over firm muscles - he looked strong… beautiful. The shirt was folded over the back of the chair on top of the coat; Marco smirked at Shinju from beneath his fringe and slowly slid the leather trousers down over his hips, wriggling them past his arse and solid thighs and calves to step out of them. He stood naked in front of Shinju, whose breath caught as he feasted his eyes on the powerful body. Marco bent down and picked up his trousers, twisting to toss them over the chair as well...
      Shinju stared, then burst out laughing, falling backwards onto the bed in helpless mirth, gasping out:
      "Okami! Okami!"
      "What?" Marco frowned at him. "What's okami?"
      "I knew – " the smaller man gasped, "I knew you were a fucking wolf!"
      High on Marco's right buttock, just below the crest of his hip, was a detailed tattoo of a wolf's face.
      "Okami means 'wolf'," Shinju panted between giggles, "it's the first thing I thought of when I saw you."
      Marco smirked, deliberately wolfishly, and prowled to straddle the young man on the bed, his knees on either side of Shinju's thighs, hands beside slender shoulders.
      "A wolf, eh? Very astute." he nipped lightly at the younger man's throat, "I want to fuck you now."
      Shinju stopped laughing.
      'Sh-shall I take my boots off?"
      "No," Marco smirked, moving his lips firmly over Shinju's neck, "leave them on."
      "How are you – uh - ?"
      Marco chuckled deeply.
      "Going to take you?" he put a sensually deep emphasis on 'take', grinning at the tremor passing through the man beneath him. "I'm going to sit down and you'll be in my lap." Marco slid over Shinju, the tip of his penis rubbing gently over the younger man's face as he moved to the head of the bed, resting his back against the headboard. "Come here."
      Shinju flipped onto his stomach, then pushed himself to his hands and knees, dark eyes very bright as he prowled forward on all fours.
      "There'll be some lube in the drawers there," Marco jerked his head at the simple, one-drawer table beside the bed. Shinju leaned out to open the drawer, rummaging inside and pulling out with a triumphant grin a small plastic tube which he slapped down into Marco's waiting palm. The tall man smiled, uncapping the tube and squeezing a sizeable glob onto his fingers.
      "Come here," he whispered to Shinju, pulling the smaller man into a hug, nuzzling his neck as a large finger probed deftly between small, tight buttocks.
      Shinju tried to relax but he was shivering hard in anticipation, fingers digging into Marco's well muscled shoulders as a broad digit pushed into his body. There wasn't much pain, as such, but the sensation was quite different to the toys he'd used on himself, more yielding, warmer, more intimate. Shinju whimpered, resting his forehead against Marco's chest as the slippery gel was worked into him, pushing back against the invading finger.
      "Okay?" Marco murmured into his ear.
      "Yes." He answered hoarsely, gasping as Marco pushed a second finger into him. And a third. Shinju distantly appreciated the time being spent to prepare him but he was grating against it with impatience; he was painfully aroused, his cock rigid and weeping and if the bastard didn't get on with it -
      "Ready?" was all the warning he got before Marco grasped his hips and pushed him down, impaling him swiftly onto his erection. Shinju froze, breathless, mouth open in shock.
      No, not shock, surprise.
      "Are you all right?" Marco asked, his voice rough with lust, "I thought it would be better to go quickly – "
      "I'm fine," Shinju had found a tight, strangled version of his voice, "just fucking move, will you?"
      Marco blinked, smiling warmly, then with large hands holding the smaller man firmly around the hips he physically lifted Shinju up, until his cock almost slipped out of the tight channel, then pushed him back down again, over and over and over. Shinju was helpless, overwhelmed and incoherent with sensation. It was all he could do to hang on as the big man fucked him, each slamming thrust impelling him closer and closer to the edge until he thought he was going to explode.
      Shinju's full-throated yell, the spasming of his internal muscles and the spatter of his warm semen onto Marco's stomach tipped the balance for the older man and he came scant seconds later, holding Shinju bruisingly tight as he growled into his neck.
      Long moments later Shinju's quivering had stilled a little; he lay limply chest to chest on Marco, cradled in the big man's arms.
      "Okay?" Marco nuzzled his ear.
      "Uhuh," Shinju nodded, still thrumming. He tilted his head to look into Marco's face. "When do I get to fuck you?"
      Marco grinned lop-sidedly and ran a hand through Shinju's hair. "Later. Let me regrow my bones first."

'Later' was every bit as good as Shinju had anticipated. Buried balls-deep in Marco's arse, the big man face down and writhing beneath him as Shinju discovered a different sort of satisfaction, that of giving pleasure to a partner.
      "Nothing like natural talent," Marco said shakily when he could speak again. Shinju said nothing, just smirked smugly from his position draped limply over the older man's broad back. With a groan, Marco eased himself forward, sighing and wriggling as Shinju slid easily from his body, then turned onto his side then reached for the smaller man, dragging him to lie close. Shinju snuggled into the solid, warm body, encircled by strong arms, feeling like he never ever wanted to leave this sanctuary...
      "I'm going home tomorrow." Marco said quietly.
      "What?" Shinju pouted. "You're leaving? But I've only just met you..."
      "Come with me."
      "Eh?" Shinju blinked stupidly.
      "Come with me," Marco repeated, nuzzling the corner of his mouth.
      "And do what?" Shinju said sharply.
      "Stay at home, naked, ready to service me when I return, or -" Marco chuckled at the dangerous look on his petite companion's face, "– come and work with me."
      Shinju opened his mouth, closed it again, then frowned.
      "What do you do, anyway?"
      "I'm a bodyguard," Marco rolled Shinju onto his back, settling himself between the lean thighs. "At the moment I'm working for an agency in Europe but I'm getting a good reputation in the business. I want to branch out on my own. You could work with me."
      "As a bodyguard?" Shinju considered this, absently brushing Marco's fringe away from his grey eyes. "I know fuck all about it."
      "I think you'd do okay," Marco leant down and kissed him, "you're stronger than you look –" he grinned as Shinju wrapped his long, lean legs around his waist, squeezing him tightly with his thighs, "– you're a quick learner." Marco shrugged, an emphatically Mediterranean gesture. "And if you don't like it, or me –" he nipped Shinju's neck, smiling as the younger man tipped his head back with a blissful sigh, "– you can come home."
      Shinju relaxed into Marco's attentions as he considered the offer. It certainly sounded more interesting than the Foreign Office. He didn't doubt he could make do, prosper even, in Europe; as well as his physical skills he had a few useful languages he was nearly fluent in, but... he hardly knew Marco. But then again - he smiled at the older man, who was currently busying himself with Shinju's small nipples – he already knew he liked Marco, not simply because he was a brilliant lover, but there was just something about him...
      "Okay, I'll come with you." Shinju's heart warmed at Marco's beaming smile, "there's conditions though."
      "Of course," Marco was suddenly serious, though his grey eyes twinkled, "whatever you want."
      "First," Shinju smirked, "I'm going to call you Okami."
      "Sure." Marco smiled. "Every bodyguard needs a good handle."
      "And second," Shinju grinned evilly, "I want you to meet my parents..."

Shinju's parents lived in the protected enclave of Kensington, where many of the ministers and staff of the British Government had their quarters. The Dawson's home was modest in comparison to some of the palatial dwellings, but it was uncluttered and clean, with a welcoming feel to it. Shinju had always loved living there.
      "'kaasan!" Shinju called out as he let himself into his parent's house. "I'm home!"
      "Hikaru!" a beautiful, diminutive Japanese woman glided out from behind a door, smiling warmly at him for a moment before giving him a stern look. "You didn't call last night."
      Shinju looked abashed, stepping forward to enfold his mother in a hug and brush a kiss over her smooth forehead.
      "I'm sorry, 'kaasan, I didn't mean to worry you," he smirked over his shoulder at Marco – Okami – "I was, um, busy."
      Shinju's mother followed his gaze, black eyes unreadable as she sized up the tall man within moments – or that's how it felt to Okami, pinned by her stare.
      "I am Aikiko Dawson," she stepped forward with a smile and a small bow, "welcome to my home."
      "Thank you," Marco inclined his head, liking the tiny woman immediately – there was a lot of her in her son. "I'm Marco di Luca, I'm very pleased to meet you."
      "We were just about to have lunch," Aikiko gestured towards the back of the house, "will you join us?"
      "Oh yes please," Shinju gushed, "I'm famished..."

Aidan Dawson, Shinju's father, was an average looking Englishman, with neatly trimmed, mouse-brown hair and gentle blue eyes. He covered his surprise at their visitor and stood up to shake Marco's hand – an old-fashioned greeting – as he introduced himself. Shinju's parents, especially his father, were making a poor job of hiding their curiosity about the stranger their son had brought home. Shinju didn't keep them in suspense for long.
      "I'm leaving for Europe this afternoon, with Marco."
      "What? Why?" Aidan almost dropped his tea cup in startlement. "For how long? What about University?"
      "Papa," Shinju looked earnestly at his father, "can you honestly see me behind a desk at the Foreign Office?"
      "I – " Aidan stopped and gazed at his son, taking in the delicate, almost feminine features that masked a will of iron and the shining fall of black hair that he'd refused to cut since he was five years old. "I suppose not." He puffed out a sigh. "But what will you do? We can increase your allowance until you…"
      "Papa!" Shinju chuckled, "Stop it, please. I don't want any more money, in fact, I don't want to have an allowance any more."
      "But why?" Aidan cast a bewildered glance at his quietly demure wife.
      "Because I want to do things on my own." Shinju said. "Earn my own money, make my own life."
      Aikiko placed her hand softly over her husband's.
      "I think that's a wonderful idea, Hikaru, though we'll miss you."
      "I'll miss you too, 'kaasan, papa," Shinju's dark eyes were misty, "but I'll keep in touch, I promise."
      "You know you'll always be welcome at home." Aidan murmured quietly.
      "Thank you, papa," Shinju smiled warmly at his father, then stood up from the table. "I'm just going upstairs to pack some things." He turned to Marco, "Okami, do you mind staying here?"

There was a loaded silence in the kitchen once Shinju had left.
      "I'm guessing you'd like to ask me what my intentions towards your son are?" Marco half-smiled.
      "Frankly," Aidan gazed steadily at the stranger in their midst, "yes."
      Marco sighed, sitting back in his chair.
      "To be honest, I don't know. I asked him on an impulse to come with me - I think I'm more surprised than he is that he said yes."
      "You haven't known Hikaru long?" Aikiko asked, and Marco smiled ruefully.
      "Only a few hours."
      "What?!" Aidan hissed. "If you think for one minute I'm going to let my son disappear with a complete stranger…" He was stopped mid-bluster by another gentle touch from his wife.
      "Hikaru is not an innocent," she reasoned quietly with her husband, "and he can look after himself." Aikiko cast a small, knowing smile at Marco, "And he won't be alone."
      Marco felt the blush steal over his cheeks but he answered truthfully.
      "No, he won't."
      "I don't suppose I have any say in the matter," Aidan grumbled with a pout that put Marco in mind of Shinju.
      "When has anybody had a say about something that Hikaru really wants to do?" Aikiko laughed. She sobered quickly, turning to regard Marco gravely. "Look after him – he is precious to us."
      "I will." Marco promised solemnly.
      "You'll what?" Shinju breezed back into the kitchen, dumping a bulgingly full hold-all by the door.
      "Look after you." Marco smirked at him.
      Shinju snorted, reaching for a thick, ham and tomato sandwich.
      "I don't need looking after." He smiled sideways at his soon-to-be partner, "But thank you."

Aidan and Aikiko Dawson stood together at their front door, waving after the black cab that was carrying their son and his… friend, away. The pair hadn't stayed long, certainly not long enough for Aidan to question this Marco character as closely as he would've liked. Aidan hadn't been sure how to take it when the tall man touched his hand to Hikaru's shoulder – brief as the touch was, it had seemed possessive to him.
      "I don't think we should be letting our only child go off with a complete stranger, 'kiko, we know nothing about him!" Aidan burst out once they were back inside and the door was shut.
      "Oh, Aidan," Aikiko wrapped her arms around his waist, snuggling into her husband's chest. "Hikaru has been waiting all his life for someone he could be himself with, I think Marco is that person."
      "Hm, I'm still going to run a check on him," the beaurocrat frowned, "What was his surname? 'di Luca'?"
      "Aidan," his tiny wife pursed her lips, "leave them be."
      He opened his mouth to protest, then sighed.
      "All right, I'll trust your judgement – but I'm not happy about it."
      "You are a wonderful man," Aikiko's eyes were shining with love and admiration, "I am very glad I married you."
      "Well, yes, thank you..." Aidan trailed off, pleased but embarrassed.
      "And now –" she giggled, taking his hands in hers. "– we have the house to ourselves."
      Aidan blinked, then grinned.
      "And I have the afternoon off," he brushed a stray strand of glossy black hair away from his wife's beloved face.
      "Come then," holding his hand, Aikiko lead him down the hall to the kitchen, "we haven't made love on the table for a very long time..."

© 2003 June 27^th Lutra

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Darkside



© 2003 Wordwrights