Digimon Fan Fiction ❯ The Walls Between ❯ Ivy ( Chapter 2 )

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

It would have been a beautiful day in Tokyo if not for the heat. As the temperature rose, the humidity seemed to rise with it, until the act of merely stepping outside was sufficient to make Daisuke feel uncomfortably moist and sticky; the air itself felt unclean, and smelled of rank sweat. It was the sort of day that he would have been happy to spend indoors in the apartment he shared with Miyako, curled up next to the air conditioner and watching television. He would even have been pleased enough to have to work today, as the restaurant was cool and cleanly fragrant, but it was his day off.

There was really no reason, in fact, for him to be crouching out on the balcony with Miyako's wind chimes at his back, fiddling around with the miniature Japanese pine tree that he was trying to shape as a bonsai. It was doing as well as could be expected for a living thing under Daisuke's care, and once he'd watered it and checked the wires to make sure they weren't scarring the branches, there was really nothing left to do. He had his schedule laid out for him, telling him what to do and on which days, and he had every intention of sticking with it and not meddling around with the plant. His skin was slick everywhere the air touched it, which was a wholly disgusting sensation and one he could have done without.

The needles on one of the branches were turning brittle. Daisuke was afraid the branch was going to die, and he was infuriated by this. Miyako called his name from inside the apartment, and he looked up from the plant, frowning.

"Fuck," he muttered.

Once Miyako came out onto the balcony, as she surely would any minute now, she would ask him why he was crouched down beside the pine tree, rather than sitting in the chair that had been bought especially for him and his bonsai project. Then Daisuke would have to lie to her, so as not to mention that he didn't want to sit down because his rear end still hurt from the fucking Ken had given him at the party. Just like he'd had to lie to her to not undress in front of her for three days, so she wouldn't notice the love-bite on his collarbone that Ken had left on him, and he'd had to lie to not have sex in order to conceal how disinterested he was in screwing her at the moment. All of the lies, and Miyako's increasingly suspicious questions, were getting on Daisuke's nerves, and the sound of her voice was enough to irritate him.

Daisuke was equally annoyed with Ken, but at least Ken wasn't present to continually grate his nerves. He was seriously considering the option of going to Ken's place and having it out with his former friend, but had thus far managed to dissuade himself.

I could go right over there and tell him what I think of him screwing me while I'm drunk, but he doesn't deserve the courtesy. Besides which, it's fucking nasty out here today. Maybe I should call him ... no, Miyako's in there.

Mulling this over, pretending that he wasn't really thinking about Ken, Daisuke meddled around with the wires on the tree's sickly branch.

"Daisuke!" yelled Miyako, for what had to be the third or fourth time.

"What?" yelled Daisuke back, his temper snapping.

"What do you want for dinner?" she asked.

Standing up, furious for no good reason he could name, Daisuke slammed open the balcony door and yelled back at her, "When have you ever known me to give a shit about what you make for dinner?"

Giving him a lip-curled expression of disbelief from the kitchen doorway, Miyako said, "I'm just trying to be nice! You could say, 'Thank you, darling, that's very considerate of you, I'd like some red rice tonight.' Or whatever. What the fuck's the wrong with you?"

"Nothing's wrong with me," said Daisuke, bristling. "What the fuck's wrong with you? Why can't I even spent fifteen minutes outside without you bugging me?"

Miyako stared at him for a moment, and then made a sound of disgust and disappeared back into the kitchen.

Daisuke closed the balcony door and paced around the apartment. It was a small place, and there wasn't much room to pace. His irritation built as he listened to Miyako moving around the kitchen, the radio in there tuned to a talk gossip program that she liked. Mostly young women called in, with incredibly small and insignificant problems, and the opinion that their miniscule issues were the most important problems on the planet. The host of the program always treated the callers as if their precious feelings mattered in the grand scheme of things, which Daisuke thought was inane. Miyako knew he disliked the program, and she was probably turning it up loud enough for him to hear on purpose.

His pacing only made his ass hurt more, and the irritating, itchy pain helped fray his temper further.

"Will you knock that off?" called Miyako. "You're getting on my nerves."

Growling now, Daisuke decided that he'd had enough. He said, "Fine, I'll just leave and get out of your hair!"

Miyako poked her head out of the kitchen. "Leave? Where the hell are you going?"

"Out!" Daisuke grabbed his keys and kicked on his shoes, and slammed the door behind him.

He took the stairs to the street at double-speed, and was out on the sidewalk in record time. Although the muggy air made him seethe, the knot of frustration in his belly uncoiled as soon as he was out of the apartment. No more dying bonsai trees to defy him, and no more Miyako to accuse him with her words and her silences, and force him to lie.

He stuck his hands in his pockets and walked rapidly away from the apartment building, comforted by the crowds of people and sounds of city life around him. He walked aimlessly for awhile until he passed the entrance to a subway station, at which point he stopped and considered.

Some part of Daisuke was uneasy about the idea of actually talking to Ken, but surely it wouldn't hurt to just walk by Ken's home. In fact, it would be good therapy for him. Not that he was afraid to talk to Ken, of course, since he was perfectly capable of holding a conversation with the dark-haired man and still hold onto his righteous rage. No, there was no danger of him falling for Ken again, but still. That niggle of unease was bothersome. He could just take the subway to Ken's place, and walk past the building, thereby proving to himself that he could do it. He was strong enough to do that much without falling into the trap that was Ken.

This decided, Daisuke went into the station and purchased a ticket.

The phone still wasn't ringing. Hikari sat by the phone, waiting for it to ring, and for it to be Ken on the other end of the line.

She would be forgiving, of course. Ken had been drunk, and of course he would use this as an excuse, and Hikari would accept the excuse. After all, she had been the one to ply him with alcohol until his better sense had been stolen from him. In one sense, she had almost deserved his cruelty, and so she was ready and prepared to forgive him as soon as he apologized for his behavior.

Except that Ken still hadn't called her. He still hadn't apologized for what he'd said. She hadn't even seen him since he'd told her off and walked away; Taichi had been the one to take her home, and she'd been grateful for that, especially since he'd had to deal with Sora at the same time. She didn't even know for sure that Ken had made it home okay.

For the first day after the party, Hikari had primly gone about her life, still irked enough at Ken to force him to apologize to her answering machine and only picking up the phone to talk when she heard who was leaving the message. Ken hadn't called, though, and by the time she got home from work the second day, she had started to become angry at him again. How dare he refuse to apologize to her! She wasn't so ready to forgive him then. He hadn't called, though, so she couldn't tell him where to shove his apologies.

Today at work, it had occurred to her that maybe he'd been too drunk to make it home, or perhaps he didn't even remember what he'd done. She'd hurried home from the daycare to check her messages, and found that he still hadn't left one. Of course, she thought ... he knew her hours, and would call after she got home.

So she'd sat by the phone, willing it to ring, and it hadn't. It still wasn't ringing.

Maybe I should call him. At least to verify that he was safe. That would seem too much like crawling back to him, though, and he wasn't the one who'd been wronged here! No, he should definitely be calling her, making sure that she was all right, and trying to make it up to her.

Hikari sat in the silence of her apartment, staring at the telephone.

Daisuke stood in front of Ken's apartment building in the falling dusk. Ken lived in a rather nice section of Tamachi, near the neighborhood where he'd grown up, and where his parents still lived off the money that Ken had made for them when he'd been young and famous, and Tokyo's darling. Glaring up at the building as if it were somehow complicit, Daisuke muttered under his breath.

"Fucking bastard," he said, over and over.

That bit of unease within him had gone away a little, but not completely. He'd proven that he could come to Ken's place of residence without having to go up and talk to Ken, but some part of himself still wasn't satisfied. It still wasn't fear, of course. Daisuke certainly wasn't afraid of Ken, and he wasn't afraid to talk to Ken. There was nothing to fear in talking to Ken, after all. He was strong enough to walk past Ken's apartment without getting tangled up in a relationship.

Surely he was strong enough to talk to Ken as well. Daisuke was in full control of the situation, and he would see to it that he stayed that way. He didn't want to fall in love with Ken again, and the incredible sex they'd had at the party didn't have a thing to do with it either. Nope, he didn't want anything out of Ken, but there was no harm in telling him off.

Nodding to himself, Daisuke walked up to the door of the building and searched the buttons until he found the one with the tag that said "Ichijouji." He pushed it, and waited.

There was a long pause before the speaker next to the door clicked and said, "Yes?" The voice was distorted, but it was Ken's.

Daisuke's heart did not melt at the sound. He leaned down next to the speaker. "It's me," he said. "Daisuke."

There was another long pause, and then the door clicked and the speaker said, "Come on up."

Opening the door, Daisuke walked in.

There wasn't any danger in talking to Ken. Daisuke was just going to yell at him anyway. All this business over the past few years of not daring to come near Ken, for fear of dropping back into a relationship, had been stupid and pointless. Daisuke was stronger than that. He didn't need to totally separate himself from Ken in order to resist that.

The elevator was painfully slow, but Ken lived on the eighth floor and Daisuke wasn't as spry as he used to be. Once in front of the correct door, he bounced a little on his toes. The uneasiness was almost completely gone now. All he had to do was prove to himself that he could talk to Ken. He knocked.

It opened almost immediately, and he looked up at Ken's beautiful, soft, dark eyes. "Come in."

Daisuke did. The apartment was much cooler than the air outside it. "I just came here to chew you out for taking advantage of me," he said angrily.

"All right," said Ken, closing the door. Daisuke took off his shoes and stepped up into the apartment proper, slipping on a pair of slippers and glancing around. The apartment was much larger than Daisuke's, elegant in shades of white and cream, and much brighter as well. It probably cost three times what Daisuke's did, and was completely immaculate. Irritation brushed Daisuke's nerves, as if Ken had taken this apartment solely to show him up.

"That was pretty rotten of you, to fuck me while I was drunk," said Daisuke. He took a stance in the middle of the room and folded his arms defensively. Ken moved from the foyer to the kitchen, graceful as ever.

"Would you like something to drink?"

"So you can fuck me again? No thank you."

"Suit yourself. I do have some non-alcoholic tea, though."

Daisuke wavered. Ken's tea was something he'd always loved, and had missed terribly when they'd broken up. Rather than making tea straight from the package, the way normal people did, Ken bought a variety of different kinds and blended them together, and then made the tea from the blend. The flavor was somehow wilder that way. "All right," said Daisuke finally. There was no weakness in accepting Ken's tea. It didn't mean that he loved Ken, and in fact proved that he was strong enough to resist Ken even while drinking his delicious tea.

Ken came out of the kitchen with two delicate cups, one of which went into Daisuke's hands immediately. This meant that Daisuke had to unfold his arms, but somehow that didn't matter if it meant he could have tea. "Aren't you going to sit down?" asked Ken, as he seated himself in a white leather recliner.

"No," muttered Daisuke, sipping his tea. It was wonderful, exactly the way he'd remembered it. A little spike of sexual pleasure hit him then, because Ken had often given him tea just before seducing him, and some part of Daisuke still linked Ken's special tea with sex. He closed his eyes a moment, but it still didn't mean anything. He wasn't going to fall for Ken again. He wasn't still in love with Ken, and the tea was meaningless.

"Very well," said Ken after a moment. "Tell me how much you hate me, then."

"I don't hate you! I just think it was really low to take advantage of me like that." Daisuke paced over to Ken's window and gazed out. The view was quite nice, angling down a slight incline toward an expensive and beautiful residential area.

"It wasn't intentional," said Ken. "Hikari got me drunk."

"Sure, Hikari," scoffed Daisuke. "Blame it on her."

"I'm not blaming it on anyone." Ken's tone remained mild, completely unflappable, and characteristically beautiful. Almost a purr, like a self-satisfied cat.

"Just because I let you fuck me, that doesn't mean I want to do it again. I want to make that clear. My inhibitions were gone. It was also really fucking cruel of you to leave me tied up like that!"

"Mmm," said Ken, and Daisuke heard him sip his tea and then set the cup down. "It was, wasn't it?"

"Yeah!" Daisuke turned around, frowning, although all the anger he'd brought with him seemed to be gone. "What the hell did you do that for anyway?"

"Because I wanted to. You got loose, didn't you?"

"It was a hell of a lot of work! I had to practically chew through the cord!"

Ken crossed his legs and regarded Daisuke calmly. Silhouetted against the white leather of the chair, the blue-black of his hair stood out in soft contrast, like a scrap of dark silk, or the sea foam in inverse color. Daisuke wanted to run his hands through it. "Did you like what I did to you?"

"That's not the fucking point!"

An amused smirk curved Ken's lip. "I know I liked it. I came home that night and jacked off twice, thinking about you like that."

"I don't think I needed to know that." Daisuke turned away again, unaccountably embarrassed, although he knew far more intimate things about Ken than that; somehow, it seemed wrong to hear a statement like that out of proper, polite Ken. He'd never gotten used to it. "Don't you have Hikari for that sort of thing?"

"Eh?" Ken laughed a little. "What, do you think I'm fucking her?"

"Don't say it like that!"

"Like what?"

Daisuke glared at Ken over his shoulder. "You don't fuck Hikari. It's okay to fuck me, fuck Miyako, fuck just about everybody else in the world, but one just doesn't fuck someone like Hikari. Okay?"

Ken grinned, amused. "All right. I'm not fucking her. I'm not making love to her either. One doesn't do that with Hikari either, at least not until after marriage. Come over here and sit down, will you? You're making me nervous."

What would it hurt? Daisuke walked over to the couch and sat down on the opposite end from Ken, putting his teacup down on the table as well. He tried to find his anger again, but it all seemed to be gone now.

"Why did you really come here, Dai-chan?"

"Don't call me that," Daisuke growled. "You have no right."

"Why did you come here then?"

"To tell you how fucking pissed off I am at you. You had no right to do what you did to me."

"Didn't you enjoy it? I know I did." Ken picked up his teacup and took a long sip before continuing, and Daisuke found he had nothing to say during the pause. "You really shouldn't have come over, though."

"Why not?"

"Failing that," said Ken, "I shouldn't have let you in the door. I should throw you out right now. Don't you remember how destructive we were together?"

"Fuck that," said Daisuke. "I'm not here to go over that."

"Mmm," said Ken. The teacup went down on the table again, and Ken shifted from the chair to the other end of the couch, sharing a piece of furniture with Daisuke now and far too close. Daisuke found himself staring into Ken's eyes, which were soft and full of emotion. "It was delicious, though, wasn't it? What we had." Ken's hands went down on the couch, supporting him as he looked steadily at Daisuke. "I don't want to throw you out."

Daisuke's breath started to become a little difficult. Ken was very close to him now, almost touching him, but Daisuke was sober this time and not subject to his hormones. No matter how much he wanted Ken to pin him down and roughly take him, he didn't have to do it. He could still taste Ken's tea on his tongue, though, and he could easily remember how Ken himself tasted, blended in with the tea.

Would it really be so bad to kiss him? Daisuke knew himself to be strong, resolute. He could kiss Ken without fucking him, surely. And even if he ended up fucking Ken, he could do it without getting emotionally attached.

"Yeah," said Daisuke, distracted. "It was nice."

"Can I kiss you?" Ken asked, hopefully.

"Yeah," said Daisuke again.

He leaned back against the arm of the couch while Ken crawled forward over him, kissing him voraciously and pressing him down with his weight. Ken was just as sinewy and spare as Daisuke remembered, heavier than his thin frame would suggest; his beauty and grace made him seem almost ethereal, but when Daisuke's arms went around his waist, he was completely solid and real. More aroused by the moment, able to feel every inch of Ken pressing against his thighs, belly, and chest, Daisuke moaned into Ken's warm mouth.

The phone remained obstinately silent. It rang about twenty minutes ago, but it was only Sora, wanting to apologize for how she'd behaved at the party. Hikari had graciously brushed off the apology, assuring Sora that she hadn't done anything embarrassing, and had gotten her off the phone as quickly as possible, just in case Ken called.

Ken still wasn't calling, though. Hikari couldn't understand why not.

Maybe he didn't know how much he'd hurt her. That was possible. Maybe she should call him and angrily start to break up with him over it. Then he'd understand, and surely he would apologize then. Hikari didn't really want to break up with Ken, but there was no danger of him letting her finish it. Any man would be happy to be with her. She was quite certain, in fact, that he would propose to her any day now.

She picked up the phone and rolled it speculatively around in her hand for a few minutes, before starting to dial a number.

It rang twice before it was picked up at the other end. "Yeah?"

"Miyako?" said Hikari.

"Yeah. Who's this?"

"It's Hikari."

Ken left his shirt out in the front room and carried Daisuke to the bedroom, pressing him down against the bed once there. Daisuke loved the feel of his lover's skin, so smooth and warm, and ran his hands ceaselessly over Ken's back. Somehow, Daisuke's clothes had already been lost, and Ken was touching him everywhere, inflaming him with every motion. Slowly, Ken's hips stroked up Daisuke's thigh over and over, a sensual thrusting gesture that only made Daisuke want more. He wanted to feel Ken against him and inside him. His own nakedness was a good start, but Daisuke craved more.

He started to explore the hem of Ken's pants, to figure out how to remove the garment, but Ken said, "Mmmph," and grabbed Daisuke's hands. Drawing back a little, Ken said, more clearly, "No."

"I want you," moaned Daisuke. "I want to feel you." His arms went out to either side, pinned by Ken's hands on his wrists.

"Not yet," murmured Ken, and dropped his lips to Daisuke's neck, biting him and licking him and sucking gently on his flesh. The sensations flashed across Daisuke's skin and seemed to pool between his legs, even more so when Ken forced his own knees between Daisuke's and pushed his thighs apart. He arched and cried out in pleasure, helpless before his lover's attentions.

"Take me," panted Daisuke. "Take me, Ken-chan ..."

"Shhh. Do you want me to tie you down?"

"Yes!"

So Ken did, binding Daisuke's wrists together, and then tethering them to the headboard, before continuing to work away at Daisuke's dark skin. It seemed impossible for Daisuke to catch his breath, as Ken made him gasp so frequently, tonguing across his nipples and the tendons of his neck, stroking the long muscles of his back and thighs. Hot moisture beaded on the tip of his penis, and when Ken rubbed this, slick and wet, across the sensitive head, Daisuke almost screamed.

"Take me! Please ... Ken-chan!" He writhed, naked and exposed for Ken's perusal, and loving it. "Fuck me, suck me, please! Anything!"

"Shhh," said Ken again, softly, his voice husky. Daisuke was rolled onto his side, and something pressed against his anus for a moment before slipping past the muscle and probing inside him.

"Oh-h-h-h," groaned Daisuke, his eyes closed and his body on fire. "Yes! Please, more ..." He lifted his knee, parting his thighs as widely as he could, inviting more.

"Patience." The finger was removed, and then re-entered him with a cool feeling, and Daisuke knew that he was being lubricated. Prepared. Daisuke's world narrowed down to the region between his legs, as everything started to revolve around what was being done to him there. Ken's finger began a teasing, stroking motion, slipping easily in and out as if to prove that Daisuke was ready to be fucked; Daisuke's erection grew painfully hard as every muscle strained. The sensation was driving him wild.

"Do you like that?" murmured Ken.

"Yes! Please ..."

The finger disappeared, and something much hotter and much larger took it's place, pressing against him as Ken's hands moved to Daisuke's hips. Daisuke was forced onto his belly then, his knees widely spread. It was impossible to lift his chest off the bed with his wrists bound, so Daisuke didn't try. He just turned his head to the side so that he could breathe and begged softly to be screwed.

This was possibly the most submissive position that Daisuke could take, and he knew it. With his hands out in front of him and his knees beneath him, it was as if he were bent in worship, and his ass was at the perfect angle for the use of his lover behind him. Ken liked this a great deal, and although Daisuke had grown to resent it before, it had been a long time since the last time. He was extremely horny, and willing to do whatever Ken wanted, if it meant he could come.

"Yes," he whispered, as he felt Ken's cock slide into him, stretching him out and firing off every important nerve. "Yes ... Oh, Ken ..."

"I still love you," moaned Ken, but the words didn't really register with Daisuke, who was too busy reveling in the sensations being forwarded up from his body. Ken's hands moved across his chest, caressing him in the pause after first entry.

"Fuck me, please," begged Daisuke, pressing back against Ken. "Fuck me hard."

Sex with Ken was always a give-and-take, and this time was no exception. Daisuke submitted to him, allowing himself to be tied down because it excited Ken to do it, allowing Ken to manipulate his body however he wished ... and in exchange, Ken made love to him with just the level of violence that Daisuke desired. Obedient to Daisuke's request, Ken fucked him ruthlessly, mercilessly, driving him hard and fast toward a brilliant orgasm. And even when Daisuke reached squirming, groaning climax, even when Ken himself came, he continued to fuck Daisuke all the way through it, dragging out the sensations to an impossible extreme until neither of them could take it anymore and they collapsed together into a twitching pile.

Daisuke was almost asleep already when Ken unbound his wrists and allowed him to curl up into a fetal ball on his side. Ken spooned up behind him and covered both of them with a thin blanket. Then he propped himself up on one elbow, watching Daisuke breathe.

There was silence for a long time, as Daisuke didn't snore if he slept on his side. Then Ken lifted his free hand to brush a strand of hair off Daisuke's cheek; his hand lingered there after.

"I'll do better this time," he whispered, so as not to wake Daisuke. "I'll be better for you. I'll try so hard for you. I promise."