Digimon Fan Fiction ❯ The Walls Between ❯ Summer's Breath ( Chapter 1 )

[ X - Adult: No readers under 18. Contains Graphic Adult Themes/Extreme violence. ]

This fic was written for a contest, which it won. The prize was a couple of really nice doujinshi that Herongale had acquired from ebay, and believe me, they were worth the work.

I don't own Digimon yet, and haven't gotten permission to use the characters. Nor have I gotten permission to age them and hook them up with each other, but you'll notice that didn't stop me. This story takes place an indeterminate number of years after the end of 02, as long as you lop off the Afterthought in which Taichi became a diplomat and Yamato went to Mars. What the fuck? MARS!? What was Toei thinking?? Anyway. I have altered the occupations of the adult Chosen as I saw fit, but other than that the story follows canon.

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Yamato always threw a party after he and his band finished recording a new album. These had started out small and informal, but had expanded in size and extravagance as the Young Wolves grew in popularity and their dreams for each album grew as well. Without fail, Yamato always invited all of his old Chosen friends, and without fail, nine of them always showed up.

Without fail, Ken and Daisuke always absented themselves. Each of them was so eager to avoid the other, that neither of them ever came to Yamato's parties.

However, on the occasion of the sixth of these parties, Miyako wheedled Daisuke into coming with her, with promises that Ken still hadn't been seen at one. He was reluctant, since the possibility existed that Ken would have decided that it was safe to come since Daisuke never did, but Miyako succeeded by finally threatening to withhold sex for a month if he didn't come along. This seemed like more of a danger to him than the nebulous risk of having to see Ken, so he allowed Miyako to dress him up and drag him to the party.

Due to a delayed train, they arrived at the studio late. When Daisuke walked in the door on Miyako's heels, practically the first thing he saw was a disinterested Ken, holding a paper cup and being chatted up by one of the band's groupies.

Their eyes met. A moment of silence fell for each young man.

Then both frowned venomously and they stalked off in opposite directions.

Hikari chased Ken through the throngs of party-goers, but lost sight of him near the refreshment tables. The air in the studio was hot and moist, and stale from having been through too many pairs of lungs in a short period. The timing for this particular party was awful, as it was one of the hottest summers in Tokyo in living memory, and the overtaxed air conditioner was just not able to keep up. Jostled on all sides and feeling short of breath, Hikari shoved her way through the crowd as politely as she could.

"Ken-kun!" she called, when she thought she spotted Ken's peculiar blue-black hair, but it turned out to be someone else. It was just as well, because it was impossible to hear over the noise of the music and all the talking.

She finally did discover him, though, slipping out through a side door to the street. It took a lot of very discourteous pushing, but Hikari followed him out only a few moments later, before he could get very far.

"Ken-kun!" she called again, and he stopped, stiffening. The air outside wasn't much cooler or less humid than inside, but it smelled fresher. The music still throbbed in the air, softer now that the door was closed, almost subliminal. Hikari trotted up to Ken, but paused maybe two meters behind him. His back was straight, his shoulders rigid and imperious, and there was something frightening about him that made her linger out of his line of sight.

"Where are you going?" she asked, once she caught her breath.

"Home," he said. She startled a little, because she hadn't really expected an answer.

"You can't just leave me here!" she said.

"I'll take you home first, then." He started walking, but stopped again when she leaped forward to touch his arm.

"But the party's not over yet! It's just getting started! The band's going to play some songs from their new album later. Come on, Ken-kun, don't be irrational about this. It's just Daisuke-kun."

If anything, his back became stiffer yet, and he glanced disdainfully over his shoulder. Hikari had never seen him so cold before, not even when the topic of Daisuke accidentally came up in conversation. "Just Daisuke-kun," he repeated, flatly, emotionlessly. A bit of wind picked up his hair and Hikari's.

"Yes. Just Daisuke-kun. I can't believe you're still being such a baby about something that happened years ago." Hikari went breathless again after saying this; the words came out without the benefit of thought, and it occurred to her that she could easily offend Ken by saying such things while he was in a delicate mood. She hurried on, trying to cover for herself. "It's not like you have to talk to him or anything. Come on, Ken-kun, let's go back and have some fun, okay? Come on." She took him by the wrist and tugged lightly. He permitted this without comment, but the expression of distant distaste hadn't left his features.

At times like this, Hikari got the impression that Ken could turn extremely deadly at any second. As always, she told herself that she was being silly. Ken was never anything but gentle and polite, and hadn't raised a hand in anger since the digital world closed. His moodiness was under control, he said so himself quite frequently, and Hikari had never known him to lie. She couldn't remember the last time he'd raised his voice. Her occasional fear of him was just as irrational as Ken's obsessive avoidance of Daisuke, and Hikari couldn't give that any real credence, to be sure.

Still, with the sun down, on a nearly deserted street surrounded by gray pavement and yellow-brown lamplight, and with his back to her, Ken seemed very dangerous to Hikari at the moment. She forced herself to ignore it and tug on his wrist anyway. To give in to this ridiculous fear was to give it far more significance than it deserved.

Eventually, Ken said, "Very well, Hikari-san." His voice was frigid, but Hikari knew he would forgive her soon. Maybe even tonight, if she could convince him to have a little fun. She smiled brightly for him when he turned around, a smile that he did not return, and wondered if she could get him to maybe have a little something to drink once they got back to the party.

Ken was frequently a dark and morose drunk, but at least he didn't feel potentially lethal when intoxicated.

"I can't believe this!" said Daisuke, pacing restlessly around the coatroom. There weren't many coats in it, but a fair number of guests had shed fashionable but too-hot blazers and jackets into the room. Miyako leaned against the door frame, running her fingers through her hair and rolling her eyes while she let Daisuke rant. "I can't fucking believe this! I knew I shouldn't have come here! I told you, but did you listen? Nooooooo, you thought you fucking knew better, didn't you?"

"Calm the fuck down," said Miyako. "It's not like anyone has asked you to spend time with him. What the hell's the matter with you?"

"I wouldn't even be here if you hadn't forced me! I don't want to be in the same prefecture as him! And don't fucking tell me to calm down!" He made as if to punch the wall, but halted himself with visible frustration before carrying out the act. He paused for a moment, trembling and wild in his fury, before looking anxiously around at the discarded jackets. "I bet he has a coat in here! What do you think his coat looks like?"

"Daisuke, don't paw through people's clothes!" Miyako stepped into the room and tried to grab his arm as he riffled through the jackets that couldn't find hangers and had been tossed on the floor. Daisuke was awfully strong, she reflected, as he shrugged off her grip with ease. She supposed it came with the whole maleness territory, and usually Daisuke's strength made her feel safe and protected. Tonight it was simply aggravating. She had the urge to grab him by the ear like a naughty child and drag him to sit in a corner until he learned to behave.

"I'll bet this is it," said Daisuke, pulling a crisp black jacket off a hanger. "I wish I had a bomb to put in the pocket!"

"Give me that!" Miyako snatched the jacket and tossed it aside. "Stop acting like a two-year-old! Motomiya Daisuke, I swear if you don't knock this the fuck off, you're going to be making your own breakfasts for a year!"

"Don't threaten me," said Daisuke, almost growling. "I gave in to your stupid fucking threats and your stupid fucking promise that he wouldn't be here! Don't you dare threaten me again!"

"Fine! I was wrong! All right, are you happy now? He's here, and you're here, and so are a billion other people so you don't have to see him if you're so fucking mad at him! So grow up!"

The door to the coatroom opened then. Daisuke snarled at the curious faces that looked in and just as hastily retreated again. Once the unknown interlopers were gone, he turned around and kicked the wall.

"What'd he do to you anyway?" asked Miyako, and not for the first time.

"I don't want to fucking talk about it!"

"Fucking pout then. See if I give a shit. Let me know when you're finished with your tantrum, little Dai-chan." Fed up but strangely calm, as if Daisuke's expenditure of rage had expended hers as well, Miyako opened the door and walked out of the coatroom. Closing the door again, she paused a moment to straighten her hair with her fingers and ensure that her blouse and skirt were in order. Then she strode off toward the main room of the party, where she could hear the sounds of instruments tuning up.

Left alone in the coatroom, Daisuke scowled a little, and then picked up the black jacket and searched along the collar until he found a strand of shed hair clinging to the fabric. It was long enough and dark enough to be Ken's, and when he turned it around in his fingers, it shone blue where it caught the light.

Daisuke slid down the wall until he was sitting on the floor. Slowly, he pulled the jacket to his face and inhaled through the fabric. His anger was draining rapidly out of him; the scent in the jacket was not unlike Ken's.

"Fucking bastard," he whispered.

"Thank you!" yelled Yamato into the microphone, so that it carried over the sound of applause and cheers and catcalls. Beside him, the bass player was flirting with one of the groupies, and Yamato shoved him with a good-natured laugh to get him to launch into the next song. Hikari, who really didn't much care for Yamato's style of music and only went to the album parties to see her friends, clapped appreciatively anyway. Taichi, sitting with Sora at the same table, laughed.

"You are such a liar," he said.

"I'm not lying," said Hikari, but then she had to repeat the words at full volume because another song had started. Taichi and Sora leaned across the table to hear her.

"Yes, you are," yelled Taichi over the music. "Acting like you like his music is a lie, you know you don't!"

"I do so!" yelled Hikari back, but Taichi just laughed again, because both of them knew that that statement, at least, really was a lie. Sora took another long drink out of her rum and coke; she seemed quite drunk already, and it was lucky for her that Taichi had managed to snag one of the tables and some chairs. Only a dozen tables had been set up, and there were well over hundred people at the party. Hikari hoped that next time the studio required invitations for people to get in, and then realized that this thought was rather snide and elite of her.

Hands suddenly landed on Hikari's shoulders, and she looked up, expecting to see Ken and wondering why he hadn't brought anything back. It wasn't Ken, though. It was Miyako.

"Got another chair?" she yelled. It took three repeats of this before Taichi understood, but then he nodded and took a sip of his drink before standing up. Quick as a snake, he stepped over to another table, grabbed a chair, dumped the occupant out of it, and carried it back over for Miyako.

Hikari stifled a laugh. Taichi had offered to do the same thing for Ken, but Ken had declined with a chilly movement of his hand, and Hikari hadn't really expected Taichi to be serious about it. Miyako primly sat down, smoothing her skirt as she did, while the chair's former occupant screamed threats at Taichi. Taichi answered them with an offhand gesture and proceeded to ignore them. After awhile, the infuriated young man went away.

Leaning close to Hikari's ear, Miyako yelled, "Where's Ken?"

"Getting drinks," yelled Hikari back. She pointed to the crowd at the bar for illustrative purposes, and Miyako nodded that she understood.

"Good," she yelled. "I wanted to talk to you about him and Daisuke. Can we go somewhere quieter?"

Hikari nodded and quickly downed the rest of her drink while standing up. Taichi glanced curiously over.

"Where are you going?" he yelled.

"Girl talk," said Miyako, saving Hikari the trouble of leaning across the table. Accepting this, Taichi shrugged and went back to talking to Sora, who was swaying in time with the music.

Miyako led Hikari away from the main bulk of the party, and when they could hear each other without shouting, she leaned against the wall. "I am so disgusted with Daisuke," she said. "Would you believe that he threw a tantrum in the coatroom?"

"Yes," said Hikari, who wasn't feeling very good all of a sudden. While sitting down, she had felt quite sober, but upon standing up her assessment of her own intoxication was changing rapidly. "Ken-kun almost went home and left me here by myself."

A wave of Miyako's hand dismissed this. "He knew your brother was here. Taichi would take care of you."

"Well, yeah, but it was still a rude thing to do. And Ken-kun isn't rude."

"Daisuke's acting like he's age-regressed. I can't believe what a baby he's being." Miyako sighed. "And it's sad, because they used to be such good friends. Has Ken ever told you what happened that they hate each other now?"

Hikari shook her head, and immediately regretted it. "He won't even say Daisuke-kun's name. If someone else mentions him, or if some other person named Daisuke, some completely unrelated person, comes up in conversation, he goes all stiff and cold and excuses himself."

"I think it's ridiculous."

"I do too."

They stood there in total agreement for a few seconds, while the world began to slowly melt around Hikari. She was very irritated at Ken's behavior, far more so than she would have been if she hadn't had those two screwdrivers. Usually, the way Ken behaved in regards to Daisuke brought her a moment of annoyance which was soon forgotten. The alcohol was making her moody, she noted absently. But why shouldn't she dwell on it? After all, this silliness had gone on for years ... years! And she knew they were capable of getting along, because once upon a time, before she'd started dating Ken, they'd been virtually inseparable.

"Whatever happened," she found herself saying, "if they'd just talk about it, I'm sure they'd work it all out."

"You think so?" asked Miyako.

Hikari nodded. "You remember how close they used to be. This must be some sort of gross misunderstanding."

After thinking about this some, Miyako giggled a little. "Yeah. Yeah, we just have to get them talking. Then they'll be friends again and we won't have to put up with this bullshit anymore."

"Right. So you have to get Daisuke-kun drunk."

"That won't be hard. I'm sure he's hit the bar already, if Ken's left it."

"I'll get Ken-kun drunk too. Then we just get them in the same room, and let them yell out all their frustrations, and get everything out into the air. Then they'll make up and everything will be great again."

"Sounds like a plan." She held out her hand, and Hikari slapped the palm as a way of sealing the pact. They both laughed at their own cleverness.

The band stopped playing near midnight, and Yamato came over to the table where many of the Chosen were sitting. Koushiro had arrived and was drunk already, draped over the shoulder of a pretty girl that he'd introduced as his girlfriend Mia before knocking back three shots. He was rambling on about his job as far as anyone could tell, but since nobody really understood what Koushiro did for a living, aside from the fact that it had something to do with launching satellites, he may as well have been speaking in tongues. Sora had passed out against Taichi and was sleeping peacefully. Ken was sitting stoically and glaring at the room at large, although he looked a little unfocused now; the four empty cups in front of him may have had something to do with that. Next to Mia and Koushiro, Jyou was hunched in on himself, looking like he'd rather be decorating a wall. Between Ken and Taichi, Hikari was leaning across the table, having an animated discussion with Mia on the topic of men and how silly they could be.

She was feeling quite drunk now, and exceptionally confident about the plan to make Ken and Daisuke friends again.

"Heya," said Yamato, sliding in between Jyou and Sora and making Jyou jump. He crouched to put his head on a level with the table, since there were no free chairs. "Nice to see you here for once, Ken!"

"Mmmph," said Ken.

"Don't mind him," said Hikari. "He's had a lot to drink."

"I am not drunk," said Ken, with the extreme care of someone who is drunk. He looked down at the table, picked up the half-full paper cup in front of him, and drank it all.

"Anyone seen Takeru-chan?" asked Yamato, ignoring Ken.

"He went off with Iori a few minutes ago," said Taichi. "They said they'd be back."

"What about Miyako and ... y'know."

Taichi shrugged. Jyou said, "I saw them near the front door when I came in. Mimi-san said she'd stop by, but I haven't seen her at all."

"She left before you got here," said Hikari.

"Look, there's Miyako," said Taichi, pointing. Everyone looked, and sure enough, Miyako was guiding a staggering Daisuke into the room. The party was beginning to break up, but the lights hadn't been turned up, and they were easy to miss among all the other drunk people. Biting her lip, Hikari glanced at Ken to check if he'd seen his nemesis. This was the moment of truth.

Ken's dark eyes narrowed, and his hand clenched, crushing the empty cup. His knuckles turned white, and Hikari flinched back a little. Maybe this wasn't such a great idea after all ... she looked helplessly toward Miyako.

Daisuke had stopped dead in the middle of the floor, and was returning Ken's visual daggers with at least as much vehemence. Those sitting at the table with Ken held their breaths, waiting for the explosion. Yamato, in fact, was slowly backing away, as was Jyou. Koushiro, on the other hand, had fallen asleep.

After a tense thirty seconds of inaction within the noise of the room, Ken slowly unclenched his fist, divested himself of the crinkled cup, and stood up. While all watched, he approached Daisuke. Would they start an argument? Start fighting? Try to murder each other? Hikari didn't know, but she hoped that she and Miyako had done the right thing. Getting Ken and Daisuke together in the same room didn't seem like such a stroke of brilliance now, as she watched a pale and rigid Ken stalk toward a shaking, frowning Daisuke.

When Ken reached the shorter man, however, he simply leaned toward Daisuke and whispered something in his ear. Daisuke's frown deepened, but no violence erupted, not even the verbal sort. Ken then straightened and strode out of the room.

Ice was in the air around Ken again. Hikari murmured to the others that she would be right back as she stood up, a message they probably couldn't hear, but she didn't care. She darted past Miyako and Daisuke and a dozen other people, following after Ken.

"Ken-kun," she said, as she chased Ken for the second time that evening, this time into the hallways leading out to the dark part of the studio. Just as before, he stopped when he heard her, but this time he turned around completely, fixing her with a frigid frown.

"What is it, Hikari-san?" he said, and the tone was deliberately mild; Hikari could hear the strain in his voice. He swayed a little, and put out a hand to the wall to steady himself. Behind her, Hikari could hear the sound of the party continuing as someone put some music on the stereo.

"Where are you going?" she asked.

"Away from here, obviously." His dark eyes narrowed shrewdly, and he said, "You knew that was going to happen. Didn't you?"

"Um," said Hikari, glancing away. She wasn't anxious to admit it, but she didn't want to lie either.

After a moment, Ken accurately read her silence, and said viciously, "I thought so." He turned around again, walking very deliberately away from the party. And her.

"Ken-kun, wait, I'm sorry." She took a step after him, but halted when Ken stopped again and turned around. She continued, "I just wanted you to make up with Daisuke-kun! Is that so bad? I just want the two of you to be friends again!"

She fought the urge to shrink back as Ken lurched sideways a little, and then straightened himself out and closed the distance between them. He leaned down toward her, and for an instant she feared that he was about to murder her.

However, he simply said, quietly in her ear, "Hikari-san ... mind your own fucking business for a change."

Then he walked away, and this time she didn't chase him. She just stood on the edge of the party with tears stinging her eyes for a long time. She told herself that it wouldn't hurt so bad if she weren't drunk. She told herself that he wouldn't have said something so cruel if he weren't drunk himself. She told herself a lot of things.

The studio that was hosting the party had designated certain places for it, and didn't want the party guests wandering around the whole of the building. The area given over to the party was large enough, anyway, with several corridors leading away from the main area toward restrooms. It was down one of these corridors that Daisuke, staggering and totally hammered, encountered Ken.

Ken leaned against the wall next to a sliding door, and he eyed Daisuke a moment before looking up and down the hallway. Daisuke stopped and supported himself against the wall, staring at Ken and blinking a lot, unsure what to think or do, until Ken beckoned him forward.

"Come on," said Ken quietly, just barely audible over the thrum of the music. "Before someone walks by."

Daisuke nodded, stupid in his drunkenness, and pitched himself off the wall and toward Ken. Ken caught him, opened the sliding door, and moved himself and Daisuke inside the dark space beyond. The door hadn't fully closed before Daisuke wrapped his arms around Ken's neck and clumsily kissed Ken's cheek a few times before locating his lips.

"Ken-chan," he whispered, his mouth full of Ken's tongue and a ready erection pressing against Ken's thigh. The next few minutes were a confusion of Ken's hands and Ken's wet mouth and Ken's breath and Ken's scent in total darkness. Daisuke's head reeled. He was pushed back against what felt like a set of shelves by Ken's lips and body, and something fell with a flutter of paper but he didn't care. He was being touched all over and kissed all over, and Ken's hard cock rubbed against his hip. His skin felt very hot, and the insensitivity of the alcohol had disappeared. He felt alight.

"Dai-chan," moaned Ken, arching against him. Daisuke lost his balance and almost fell, but Ken somehow caught him and held him up, kissing his neck so violently. In the darkness, it didn't matter if Daisuke's eyes were open or closed, so he closed them, willingly drowning himself in the ocean of mad lust.

Daisuke couldn't stand it anymore. He pushed his hands between them and began to fumble with the buttons of his shirt. "Ken-chan, please, fuck me, please." The last button frustrated him, and Ken helped him sit down and then tore the button loose with a rough yank. Daisuke found himself free of the shirt a moment later. "Fuck me, please!" Daisuke moaned, when Ken made as if to pull away. "I need you!"

"Shhh," said Ken, breathless. "I'm just going to make sure nobody walks in. Okay?"

"Okay," whispered Daisuke. Then he cried out a little as a light came on, and blinked blearily at Ken, who looked very ruffled, as the dark-haired man cast about.

What Daisuke had assumed to be a small storage closet turned out to be ... a storage closet. Shelves reached to the ceiling along two walls, and a discarded copier had been shoved against the third. There was nowhere near enough room to properly lay down. Ken found some doorstops on a shelf and shoved one under the corner of the door to hold it shut; the delay was intolerable, and Daisuke reached out to run a hand over Ken's thigh. The muscle was strong and hard beneath the fabric of Ken's pants. Daisuke wanted to bite it, and leaned forward with the intention of doing just that.

"Oh, no," said Ken softly, grabbing Daisuke's wrists. "None of that now."

"I want you," whispered Daisuke. He twisted his body from the trapped point at his wrists, and groaned when Ken's other hand slid between his thighs and up over his groin. It felt incredible, especially when Ken began to suck on one nipple. "Yes! Please!"

"Shhh," said Ken again. Somewhere, Ken found an extension cord, and he tied that around Daisuke's wrists before forcing him to turn over onto his hands and knees. The free ends of the cord were then bound to the base of one of the shelves, just before the lights went off again.

Wrapped in warm darkness, still swimming in alcohol, Daisuke panted while Ken kissed his back and ran hands over his chest. His erection begged for attention as Ken played with his nipples and neck and flanks, and more than once Daisuke forgot that he was tied and tried to turn around to touch his lover. He could feel moisture leaking out of the tip of his penis, and he wanted Ken to touch it, lick it, suck it out. But when he begged Ken for this, Ken merely shushed him. Daisuke could imagine how Ken's mouth would feel, and he groaned as his pants were unzipped and pulled down to his knees along with his underwear. Air moved across his skin, desperately sexy.

"Oh, Dai-chan," whispered Ken. Daisuke heard fabric rustle, and then a wet sound behind him. Muzzy, he assumed that Ken was slicking down his own cock with saliva, and although Daisuke knew this wasn't a very effective means of lubrication, he was far too horny to care.

"Fuck me," he said. A hand touched his rear end - Ken orienting himself - and a moment later he felt Ken's other hand guiding his penis. "Yes ... please, Ken-chan, please!" He pulled on his wrists, so desperately aroused but unable to do anything about it in this cramped position with his hands tied.

The alcohol dulled the pain, but it still hurt sharply when Ken entered him with a single, decisive thrust. Daisuke groaned anyway and pushed backward against Ken, his system overloaded with pleasure and desire. Ken leaned forward and braced himself with his hands on Daisuke's hips, his hair brushing Daisuke's skin and his breath rapid. "Oh, Daisuke, oh-h-h-h ..."

Daisuke raised his head as Ken pulled a little way out and then thrust again, filling Daisuke with himself over and over again. The feeling was indescribable. Ken gained leverage against Daisuke's hips, using them to deepen his thrusts so that every motion sent lightning-flashes of incredible pleasure through Daisuke. With his eyes closed, the world tilted for Daisuke, sliding over itself like liquid, and very little existed in it besides the firm grip of Ken's hands and the growing pressure of pleasure in his groin and ass.

"Make me come," he moaned. "Please make me come."

A soft whining, whimpering sound came from Ken, whose thrusts had become shorter and much faster, but no shallower. He still touched Daisuke so deeply, so intimately, but was not withdrawing so far anymore. Daisuke could almost feel Ken's orgasm building in the tension of his muscles, and he knew himself to be on the edge of climax as well. If only Ken would stroke his cock a little ...

Then it happened. He felt Ken come, twitching deeply inside him, filling him with hot semen, and a moment later Ken's hand found Daisuke's penis and roughly massaged it. Daisuke came almost immediately, all but screaming Ken's name, his back bowing like a stretching cat's.

Daisuke's arms bent at the elbows, and he rested his forehead against the throbbing floor. Up and down confused themselves. He was so tired, and wanted to go to sleep all wrapped up in silken pleasure.

He felt Ken pull out of him an eternity later, and heard motion. His exertion had sobered him up a little, but Daisuke still felt pretty drunk. He lay down and curled up on his side once Ken released him.

"Ken-chan," he murmured. A hand went fondly through his hair. "Why did we ever break up?"

"Because I'm bad for you," said Ken softly.

"Mmm," said Daisuke. "Oh yeah."

"Yeah," said Ken. Daisuke heard him awkwardly dressing, bumping against things. The floor seemed to be spinning, and Daisuke could hear music pound dully through the door and walls. His nostrils were filled with the musk of sex, and he felt completely confined, with his wrists tied to a shelf and his knees tangled in his pants, surrounded by darkness.

"Do we have to get up?" asked Daisuke languidly.

"Yes," said Ken.

"Mmm. Let me loose then."

Ken was silent for a moment, before saying, "I don't think so."

"Huh?" Daisuke couldn't be bothered to lift his head.

"You should be able to get yourself loose, if you're not too drunk. You might want to do that before someone walks in on you." Daisuke felt Ken touch his shoulder again, and then fingers moved up his neck to his hair. "I'll dream about you, Dai-chan. I'll dream about you like this, how I left you."

"Ken," said Daisuke. The idea of being left alone in a storage closet, almost naked and smeared in semen, with his wrists tied, in the dark, was having the effect of sobering Daisuke up a lot more. "Ken, don't." He tugged his wrists.

"I'll see you later," said Ken. Something scraped and then clattered aside, and Ken slid open the door to admit a wedge of light. He glanced around, then flashed Daisuke a wicked smile before walking out and sliding the door closed behind him.

Daisuke lay still for a minute or so before saying, "Fuck." Then he started trying to figure out how to get his hands free.