Chapter Text
Chishiya woke to the smell of cigarette smoke, gunpowder, and sex—which meant he'd fallen asleep in Niragi's bed again.
The room was dim, blackout curtains doing their job despite the tears in the fabric letting through thin streams of morning light. Dust motes drifted lazy through the golden bars, settling on scattered ammunition casings and empty beer bottles. Niragi's room looked like a munitions depot had fucked a bachelor pad and neither party had bothered with a condom. Organised chaos, the militant would call it. Disaster, by any objective measure. But Chishiya had stopped pretending he came here for the ambience weeks ago.
He lay still, cataloguing sensory input with the methodical precision of someone who'd learnt young that information was survival. The mattress beneath him was too soft, springs shot to hell from Niragi's aggressive sleeping habits—all thrashing limbs and unconscious violence even in rest. The sheets smelt like cheap cologne applied heavy-handed, sweat, the distinct metallic tang of gun oil, and underneath it all, Chishiya's own cleaner scent mixing in. Territorial marking via olfactory contamination. How primitive. How effective.
Behind him, Niragi's bulk radiated heat like a fucking furnace, one heavy arm slung possessive across Chishiya's waist, hand splayed wide over his stomach. Still asleep, breathing deep and even in a way he never managed awake. Chishiya could feel the rise and fall of that broad chest against his back, the occasional twitch of muscle as Niragi's body processed whatever violent dreams played behind his closed lids.
The titanium barbell of his Prince Albert piercing pressed firm against Chishiya's ass where Niragi's half-hard cock nestled between his cheeks—post-sex intimacy Niragi always sought, needing the connection, the reassurance of continued contact. Pathetic. Endearing. Exploitable.
Chishiya kept his breathing steady, feigning sleep while his mind clicked through the previous night's events with mechanical precision. They'd fucked twice—once against the door when Chishiya had barely gotten it closed behind him before Niragi was on him like a starving animal, all desperate hands and that goddamn tongue piercing catching on Chishiya's lips. Hard and fast, Niragi's usual method of greeting when Chishiya deigned to visit his territory instead of making the militant come crawling to the executive quarters. The second round had been slower, Chishiya orchestrating Niragi's desperation into something almost artistic: edging him three times before finally, finally allowing release.
The memory stirred heat low in Chishiya's belly. Niragi's broken pleading—please, fuck, please Boss I need it I need to come please let me—had been particularly gratifying. The way those dark eyes had gone glassy and wet, the proud violent man reduced to begging for permission to spill inside Chishiya's ass. Control achieved through the simplest biological manipulation: deny a creature what it craves most, then grant it only on your terms. Pavlovian conditioning with a side of prostate stimulation.
Chishiya's cock filled incrementally, responding to tactile memory and the warm weight of Niragi's arm anchoring him in place. Morning erections were physiological inevitability, testosterone peaks occurring during REM cycles, nothing more. The fact that it happened while pressed against Niragi's sleep-warm body was coincidence.
He told himself that lie with a straight face even inside his own skull.
The truth—that he'd grown to anticipate these mornings, that some small fucked-up part of him actually wanted to wake up inhaling secondhand smoke and surrounded by Niragi's aggressively masculine disaster of a living space—was something Chishiya filed away in the same mental drawer as all his other inconvenient realisations about their arrangement. The drawer labelled Don't Examine Too Closely Or You'll Have To Admit You're Capable Of Attachment, Which Is Terrifying.
Niragi shifted behind him, cock hardening further where it pressed insistent against Chishiya's ass, piercing dragging slightly as the angle changed. The arm around his waist tightened reflexively, pulling Chishiya back into the cage of Niragi's body. A sleeping anaconda constricting around captured prey, ensuring its meal couldn't escape even in unconsciousness.
"Mm." The sound was barely vocalised, Niragi's nose burying into Chishiya's hair, inhaling deep. Even asleep, the man was categorising, confirming: mine, here, safe, mine.
Chishiya allowed himself a small smirk Niragi couldn't see. Possessive even when unconscious. The militant's psychological need for ownership and validation ran so deep it manifested in his fucking REM state. Fascinating. Pathetic. Useful.
And if Chishiya's own hand drifted down to cover Niragi's where it splayed across his stomach, fingers slotting into the gaps between those larger knuckles—well. Body heat regulation. Practical. Nothing to do with the fact that Niragi's hands were the only ones Chishiya could tolerate touching him for extended periods. Medical fact: the human body craved tactile input. Satisfied curiosity: Niragi's hands provided that input without triggering Chishiya's usual skin-crawling discomfort at being touched.
Purely scientific.
Niragi's breathing changed, the deep even rhythm hitching slightly. Waking up. Chishiya felt the exact moment consciousness returned: the sudden tension in that muscular frame, the pause as Niragi's brain processed where, who, safe in rapid succession, followed by the full-body relaxation when he confirmed Chishiya hadn't left.
"Mmf. Boss." Niragi's voice was rough with sleep, the syllable more exhale than word. His cock fully hard now, definitely awake, pressing with more intention between Chishiya's cheeks. The hand on Chishiya's stomach flexed, fingertips pressing into the defined muscle there. Claiming. Checking. Still here, still mine, you stayed.
"Observant," Chishiya murmured, tone dry as dust. "Gold star for object permanence."
Niragi huffed against his hair, breath warm and cigarette-stale. "Fuck you."
"You did. Twice. Or have you already forgotten?" Chishiya kept his voice level, amused, while Niragi's hand started wandering south over his lower abdomen, fingertips tracing the sharp cut of his Adonis belt. Predictable. The man woke up hard and immediately needed to touch, to confirm ownership through tactile inventory of Chishiya's body.
"Remember fine." Niragi's hips rolled forward slightly, dragging his pierced cock along the cleft of Chishiya's ass in a slow deliberate grind. The metal barbell caught and pulled, adding texture to the slide of heated flesh against flesh. "Wanna make sure you remember too."
"How could I forget?" Chishiya's tone remained bored even as his own cock hardened further, trapped between his belly and the mattress, starting to leak precome against the sheets. "You fucked me with all the subtlety of a freight train. Very memorable. I'm sure my prostate is filing a formal complaint."
"Lying liar who lies." Niragi's teeth found the back of Chishiya's neck, biting down just hard enough to send sparks of pain-pleasure down his spine. The tongue piercing followed, cool metal soothing the sting, tracing the small indentations left behind. "Heard you. Felt you. You came so hard you nearly fucking blacked out."
Factually accurate, which was irritating. Chishiya had indeed experienced what the literature called a "prostate orgasm" intense enough to cause temporary visual whiteout and what felt like a minor cardiac event. Physiological response to sustained stimulation of the prostate gland combined with penile friction and psychological arousal factors. Nothing to do with Niragi specifically. Any partner with adequate anatomical knowledge could theoretically—
Niragi's hand wrapped around Chishiya's cock, cutting off that line of bullshit internal monologue with a firm stroke from root to tip, thumb swiping through the precome beading at his slit.
"Fuck." The word escaped before Chishiya could lock it down, hips jerking forward into that calloused grip. Niragi's hands were rough from rifle handling, scarred from fights, and knew exactly how Chishiya liked to be touched. Firm pressure, slight twist on the upstroke, attention to the sensitive spot just below the head. Muscle memory built through trial and error and Chishiya's careful conditioning—rewarding Niragi with praise when he got it right, withholding when he didn't. Behavioural modification via orgasm.
"Yeah, that's what I thought." Smug satisfaction coloured Niragi's sleep-rough voice. His hips established a rhythm, grinding his cock against Chishiya's ass while his hand worked Chishiya's shaft with practiced efficiency. The piercing added delicious friction, titanium warming from body heat, dragging slick with precome through Chishiya's crease. "Want me to fuck you again? Put it back inside? You're still loose from last night, bet I could just slide right in."
Chishiya's breath caught, thighs clenching at the image. He was loose still, well-fucked, Niragi's come from the second round probably still coating his insides. The idea of being penetrated again with no prep, just Niragi's thick cock pushing into his used hole, stretching him open on that pierced shaft while that titanium barbell caught and dragged against his rim—
"Presumptuous," Chishiya managed, voice strained. His hips were moving now, fucking into Niragi's fist in short aborted thrusts he couldn't quite suppress. "What makes you think I want your cock this early? Maybe I prefer morning coffee."
"'Cause you're dripping all over my hand and grinding your ass on my dick like you're trying to jack me off with your cheeks." Niragi bit down on Chishiya's shoulder, harder this time, definitely leaving a mark. His hand tightened around Chishiya's cock, jerking him faster. "And 'cause you didn't leave last night. Could've gone back to your room soon as I fell asleep, Didn't."
That... was unfortunately accurate reasoning. Chishiya had indeed remained when he could have easily slipped out once Niragi passed into post-orgasmic unconsciousness. The logical explanation was that moving required effort and he'd been comfortable. The illogical explanation involved words like "wanted to stay" and "feels safer here" which Chishiya refused to dignify with acknowledgement.
"Convenience," Chishiya said instead, slightly breathless now as Niragi's talented hand worked his cock with exactly the right pressure and rhythm. "Your bed was closer than getting dressed and walking back to my room."
"Uh huh. Sure, Boss. Whatever helps you sleep at night." Niragi's tone was knowing, smug, and deeply irritating because he was right. The bastard had somehow learnt to read Chishiya's particular brand of bullshit, could see through the rationalisations to the uncomfortable truth beneath. "Gonna keep pretending you don't want this? Or you gonna let me make you come?"
The question was rhetorical—they both knew Chishiya was already too far gone, cock leaking steadily, hips working in rhythm with Niragi's strokes. But the militant needed the verbal confirmation, the explicit permission. Needed to hear Chishiya choose this, choose him, even in the smallest ways. Needed the reassurance that he wasn't forcing, wasn't taking, that Chishiya wanted him back.
Psychological damage from childhood sexual assault threats manifesting as pathological need for enthusiastic consent. Understandable. Exploitable. And in this moment, easy enough to give.
"Make me come," Chishiya said, low and commanding despite his breathless state. "And you can fuck me after."
Niragi groaned, hips jerking forward in an involuntary thrust that dragged his cock hard through Chishiya's crease, metal piercing catching briefly on his rim before sliding higher. "Fuck yeah. Okay. Yeah."
His hand moved faster, grip perfect, and Chishiya stopped fighting the pleasure building hot and liquid in his belly. Let himself press back into Niragi's chest, let those powerful hips grind against him, let clever fingers work his cock exactly how he needed. This was strategic—allowing Niragi those moments of perceived control actually reinforced Chishiya's dominance. By granting permission, he maintained the power. Basic psychology.
(The fact that it felt good, that some animal part of his brain purred with satisfaction at being held and touched and wanted so desperately—irrelevant. Side effects. Unimportant.)
"Gonna come on my hand?" Niragi's voice had gone rough and low, lips moving against Chishiya's neck between bites and licks. His tongue piercing traced the tendon there, slick warm metal following the line of Chishiya's pulse. "Gonna make a mess? Get it all over yourself, all over my fingers? Want you to. Wanna feel you lose it."
"Shut up and—fuck—" Chishiya's spine arched as Niragi's thumb pressed hard against his frenulum, exactly the right spot, exactly the right pressure. His hand flew back to grip Niragi's hip, nails digging in through sleep-warm skin, needing the anchor as pleasure spiked sharp through his nervous system.
"That's it, yeah, fucking take it." Niragi's other hand came up to Chishiya's chest, finding his nipple and pinching, rolling the small bud between rough fingertips. "Come for me, Boss. Wanna see it. Come on, give it to me."
The combination of stimulation—cock, nipple, the hot slide of Niragi's pierced shaft grinding against his ass, the teeth on his neck, the voice rough and desperate in his ear—pushed Chishiya over the edge before he could marshal his usual control. His orgasm punched through him sudden and intense, pleasure whiting out thought for several seconds as his cock pulsed in Niragi's grip, spilling come across those scarred knuckles and onto the sheets beneath them.
"Fuck, yeah, that's so fucking hot." Niragi kept stroking him through it, milking every pulse, drawing it out until Chishiya jerked and hissed from oversensitivity. Only then did his hand gentle, releasing Chishiya's spent cock to trail come-slick fingers up his chest, spreading the evidence of orgasm across pale skin. Marking. Claiming. "So fucking perfect, Boss. Love watching you lose it."
Chishiya's breathing slowly evened out, brain coming back online in stages. Post-orgasmic neurochemistry: oxytocin, prolactin, dopamine flooding his system, creating temporary satiation and false sense of bonding. Biological imperative encouraging pair-bonding through sexual activity. Nothing meaningful, just evolution's clumsy attempt at species propagation.
He told himself that while Niragi's hand drew patterns in come on his chest and he made no move to stop it.
"Sap," Chishiya muttered, turning his head just enough to meet Niragi's eyes over his shoulder. Dark and heated, pupils blown wide, expression open in that way it only got in private. Vulnerable. Desperate. Wanting.
Niragi's responding grin was sharp and genuine, tongue piercing glinting as he flicked it against his teeth. "Yeah, whatever. Roll over. Wanna fuck you proper."