Enomoto’s face remains blank as he waits in in the bus stop he had been instructed to stop at. His calm demeanour is only betrayed by the tightening of his fingers around his messenger bag strap, followed by the adjustment of his glasses every few minutes.
Above him, the sky is a light orange, and the crows residing in the forest canopy caws before flying away.
He still waits.
Time is not of the absence, not when there is a precious antique lock at stake. He is not aware of the specifics of said lock, for all the letter had said is that the lock - or handcuffs, specifically - was acquired several years ago during the Noble Detective’s visits to Europe, and that said-detective has no interest in keeping it, if Enomoto would like to purchase it at a heavily discounted price.
It was also written in postscript that the Noble Detective is certain , Enomoto does not have said handcuffs in his collection.
When there is a lock involved, there is nothing the locksmith will not do to get his hands on it, especially if he does not have it yet. That is perhaps why he had no issues taking a train to Naganohara, followed by a 2-hour local bus trip further into the local woods of Gunma to stop in the middle of nowhere.
Behind him, the bushes rustle, and his head twitches just slightly to see what is the cause? The wind? A racoon?
Enomoto does not jump, but his eye twitches just ever so slightly, heart quickening in surprise - his face remains emotionless. The butler, Yamamoto, stands next to him, clad in a proper dark-grey kimono, seemingly appearing out of nowhere while carrying a wooden cane in his hand, emblazoned with the family crest of the Noble Detective
“I apologize for the wait. We were preparing for your arrival at Gozen-sama’s mountain villa.” Yamamoto bows, and Enomoto stands from the small wooden bench where he had waited for the last 30 minutes.
He ducks his head in return. “Thank you for fetching me, Yamamoto-san. I apologize for intruding on Gozen-sama’s time today.”
“There is no intrusion - he has been wanting to see you since our last meeting.” Yamamoto bows again, and politely gestures into a hole in the undergrowth that had not been there before. “Perhaps we should proceed to the villa now. This way, Enomoto-sama.”
The gap in the undergrowth reveals a distinct gravel path, a series of perfectly space stone lanterns illuminating the walkway in a tasteful manner. Enomoto is surprised, but impressed when he sees the red light of a security camera, pointing directly at the entrance. The opening is closed once the two of them enter, with careful adjustments to the foliage with the cane.
Enomoto will not be surprised if the view from the street looks, once again, untouched and uninhabited.
“This way, Enomoto-sama.”
The trek to the villa takes a surprisingly long time, but the forest eventually opens to an expansive clearing. A grandiose villa has been erected in the center of the clearing, although the term ‘villa’ is misleading; it is a traditional Japanese home, except far more vast and luxurious-looking.
“If you don’t mind, Enomoto-sama, I will bring you to your room to change.” Yamamoto offers to take Enomoto’s bag from him after claiming his shoes. “Gozen-sama prefers his guests in more comfortable attire when he meets them in his home.”
“Excuse me? Change?”
“Yes, Enomoto-sama. Do not worry about the required attire. Gozen-sama personally picked out your kimono. You will find it extremely comfortable, I believe.” Yamamoto looks at the sky. “It would be best if we made haste, Enomoto-sama. Dinner will be ready soon, and we should not let Gozen-sama wait. This way, please.”
The locksmith sees no reason to argue, despite seeing the lack of logic in having a guest change out of his attire for a short, business meeting. Perhaps once the man has money and power, there are few people that would choose to challenge him; Enomoto is not going to either. After all, there is no reason to make an enemy out of a man who seems to have his own collection of antiques. Nodding, he lets himself be led into the home, looking around in vague interest at the paintings and ikebana. His real interest, of course, is the hand-cuffs, but Enomoto knows that if it is as precious as they claim it to be, a man of the Noble Detective’s standing will not have it lying around.
He is eventually led into a 12-mat tatami room, shoji panels arranged to provide a beautiful view of the forest against the setting sun. The room only has a table in the center, a box resting on it containing a folded kimono. Enomoto tries not to feel anything when he notices how unusually showy the kimono is - the fabric is a solid, opulent dark blue, but the bottom of the robe has a subtle outline of peacocks embroidered in gold, something that Enomoto knows represents the family crest of the Noble Detective. There must be a meaning behind such fine extravagance for a mere guest.
He will have to be sharp tonight.
Yamamoto leaves him with two of the male servants to help him dress for dinner, and Enomoto tries to hide his discomfort as the two men - boys, even - take away his sweater, dress shirt and trousers, then helps him with the kimono.
A maid comes in to serve him a cup of warm tea once he is done, interrupting his thorough analysis of the architecture of the building. The security of the villa is sorely lacking, but Enomoto cannot deny that despite the semblance of privacy, he feels like he is being constantly watched. But there is little place nor hiding spots in the room to hide security cameras, nor are there enough objects to put hidden objects in. Only a low table, two chairs, and the forest outside.
The shoji doors slide open, and this time it is Tanaka that greets him, kneeling by the open door in a cream kimono, hair neatly put up. “Dinner is ready, Enomoto-sama. If you could follow me to the dining hall…”
“For tonight’s dinner, the appetizer is pickled arisogai clam, served with a smoked duck and salmon salad. The clams were caught off the coast of Hokkaido this early morning, and tomatoes harvested from the neighbouring village, known for their sweet tomato produce. On your right, a light broth with finely diced seaweed from Takamatsu and beaten egg.”
Enomoto blinks at the meal set in from of them, unprepared for the intricacy of Tanaka’s explanation, nor the numerous locations the ingredients have been sourced out from. Across from him, the Noble Detective seems unsurprised, nor unfazed by what is likely normal for a meal. Another series of dishes are placed in from of him, and Enomoto catches only bits and pieces of Tanaka’s explanation.
Sashimi of seasonal fishes caught from the coasts of Enoshima; broiled eggplants, shrimp, and unagi; baked Hakodate summer squid, steamed chawanmushi with pickled plums…
He spaces out, instead wondering looking up at the Noble Detective as the man eagerly takes the proffered bottle of sake from one of the maids and offers to pour for Enomoto.
The wide-eyed gape that action earns from the servants makes Enomoto loosen his hold on his feelings just a bit, and the corner of his lip twitches up in a half smile as he accepts, then pours for the Noble Detective as well. It is far more interesting than the explanation of the extravagant kaiseki prepared.
“My, what a rare occasion this is - a smile on your face, Enomoto-san.”
The upward twitch disappears, and Enomoto takes a sip of the sake, relishing the smooth burn that goes down his throat. He has to be careful not to drink too much - after all, he has to catch the last bus and train to Tokyo tonight.
As if reading his thoughts, the suave man in front of him reaches out to poke a finger at his cup, as though nudging him to drink more, but without too much pressure.
“Please, do not worry about going back to Tokyo tonight. It will be far too late when we will be done with this meal, and I do not like the idea of you heading out into the woods once the sun sets. My servants are preparing a room for you as we speak.”
“I would hate to inconvenience you, Gozen-sama. I’m here, after all, the purchase the lock that was mentioned in the letter. After which I should be on my way.” Enomoto ducks his head and pretends to nonchalantly eat the smoked duck. His appetite has never been big, but he does not enjoy wasting. Furthermore, duck is something he is curious to taste, as he hums when the taste hits his tongue.
“Yes, the lock. But I dislike discussing business deals over dinner, Enomoto-san.” The noble across from him puts up a charming smile. He is very handsome, Enomoto notes; it is perhaps why many women fall for him. Handsome and gentle, at least in most cases, besides when he acts flippant in front of the Aika detective. An image. “Such things should be left outside the dining hall. Here… I’d like to know more about you.”
His voice deepens just slightly. What it means, Enomoto is not certain, but he is curious.
“There is not much for you to know. I run a security shop in Tokyo. I used to work in a security firm. I enjoy solving —”
“Locked room cases.” The Noble Detective grins a boyish smile that only unsettles Enomoto, not because it is unfriendly, but because he does not know how to react. “I know your history, Enomoto Kei. I was curious about your remarkable performance last month, in Iwate. You solved the crime far faster than my servants.”
“But not faster than you, Gozen-sama.” Enomoto responds in a clipped tone, words coming out of him in his typical, deadpan ramble. “In fact, it was the fact that you mentioned and started commenting about how the air smelling like freshly clipped grass that allowed me to solve it. Despite your obviously posed flippancy, there is a reason why you are called the Noble Detective and it is not mainly attributed to your servants’ skills of deduction, as people might believe.”
The Noble Detective looks surprised for once, eyes wide as he slowly puts the mouth of steamed egg in his mouth and closes his lips around it, nodding slowly with lips out in a slight, childish pout. It is not a pout of annoyance, but rather of child-like fascination.
His servants have long left the room.
“Sharp observation, Enomoto-san. Very well done.” He gives a slow applause, eyes bright with fascination as he rests his elbow on the edge of the table and then his head on his hand. “Exceeded my expectations of you. My… you are interesting, aren’t you?”
Enomoto puts down his empty bowl of miso soup, and takes a sip - no, a gulp - of his sake. Somehow, he knows he needs this.
“I am not as interesting as you think I am, Gozen-sama. You think too highly of me. I am just a man with a fascination with locks, and that requires observation skills; Skills of which are logical to have, but many people lack nowadays.”
“And that makes you very special , Ke-i-kun~” The Noble Detective articulates each syllable of Enomoto’s name, a lilt in his tone that making it acceptable. “Don’t downplay yourself either; when I say I know your history… I don’t mean the pretty, upstanding citizen history that you have, no. That is far too boring and plain. I’m talking about the dirtier bits. Those make you a far more interesting person.”
Enomoto stops, and he feels his finger twitch just slightly. That is unexpected, and troubling, but he cannot let that affect him; after all, …
“You are not the only one who has done his research, Gozen-sama.” His voices raise only slightly, a challenge that perks the interest of the man sitting across from him. “You may dally and pretend to be a flirtatious dandy, but the both of us know that you have been using your relationship with the Sakuragawa and Tamamura families to manipulate and hide the truth. Does Kitami Kiriko sound familiar? I think she does.”
He pushes his glasses up, hand trembling just slightly at the sudden rush of adrenaline. What is this excitement he is feeling, or is it just the alcohol that is making him feel this way? A short giggle bubbles in his throat, but he swallows it down with a big piece of beef. The Noble Detective does not look unnerved by the revelation, which confirms Enomoto’s other theory, but he will keep that to himself for now. Either ways, they both have something to hold against each other, and even still, somehow, he knows that this is only the Noble Detective’s way of testing him.
It is a test. Especially when the man snorts and starts laughing, and raises his cup to lightly toast it against Enomoto’s.
“I guess this puts us on an equal standing then. I must admit, I have never met anyone as intriguing as you. This definitely changes things.”
Enomoto sharply looks up. “What things?”
His handcuffs better not be at stake here.
“Nothing of circumstance, Kei-kun. Eat your dinner. Tanaka always produces the best dessert, and we can have it in my room, while I show you the locks that you’re clearly so eager for.” The Noble Detective smirks, eyes bright with an emotion Enomoto is not knowledgeable of. Often, uncertainty makes his skin crawl; today all is make him shiver in anticipation. The man before him looks like a lion, slowly captivating his prey with sweet words; this is the man he sees with women, but far rawer now, more real in his dark green kimono and in front of Enomoto.
There are no secrets between them - or at least, far lesser than it would be with any other plebeian the aristocrat will meet. He has the confidence and ego to say that.
After dinner, they retire to the Noble Detective’s room, as promised earlier, to view the handcuffs. The room is curiously not as palatial than what Enomoto had imagined it to be; instead, it is larger than the room Enomoto had been shown to when he had first arrived, a 16-mat room, a shoji panel on the opposite wall cracked open just a bit, to allow the sound of a creek to trickle in.
There is no obnoxious grand painting of the aristocrat, nor any gaudy decorations in the room. There is a door that opens to a bathroom, he presumes, and another low table, emblazoned with the family crest of the Noble Detective, and on it, an old, worn-out looking metal chest, looking recently dusted. The brass chest corners look oxidized, lock broken (such a shame; Enomoto would have liked to pick it), and leather moth-bitten - clear signs of age.
He pretends to not notice the futon double bed that has been made on the other end of the room, aligned perfectly to the middle where a narrow pillar where the two shoji doors meet is. Enomoto is sure he is somewhat tipsy now, but he can reign in his intoxication for these locks.
The Nobel Detective looks equally pink, but he remains collected, smile captivating and at ease, as always as he takes a seat and gestures for Enomoto to do the same.
“Would you like us to serve dessert now, Gozen-sama?” Tanaka politely asks from the entryway. She bows when the Noble Detective nods distractedly, more focused on opening the chest and presenting it to Enomoto personally. “I will return with it shortly.”
Enomoto stops focusing once his eyes meet the beautiful, how exquisite , English handcuffs. Late-Middle ages, given the presence of hinges to close the U-shaped metal around wrists. Handcuffs of such an era do not have their own lock, but instead have a hasp for the insertion of a padlock… which in this case, is also present, and equally riveting in its form and function. Unlike the heavy, bulky padlocks that were prevalent during that period, the one in the Noble Detective’s possession is a spring-and-shackle lock with an arched swing shackle design. Far more elegant, and rarer in their design for their time.
“I acquired them during my travels a few years ago. I’ve always been fond of handcuffs, although for far different uses than you, I believe.” The Noble Detective says, voice deep. If there is any suggestion implied in his voice, Enomoto does not notice it, instead taking the pair from the chest and reverently running his hand on its rough surface. Despite their age, the cuffs are well maintained and clean, padlock mechanism well-oiled to preserve its ward springs.
“These ones had only just been for collection, although I think you will be able to appreciate them far much than I do.”
“They’re amazing. These ones have a far simpler locking mechanism, but it is an ingenious one that suited its purpose. Far more efficient but more prone to picking than screw locks or modern metal keys. Of course, to unlock this, one would a simple push key to compress the springs and allow the shackle to be drawn out. Not very difficult. The handcuffs are typical, of course, for antique restraints, requiring the use of an external locking mechanism.”
Enomoto runs his fingers along the inner side of the handcuffs, and appreciates the cold metal, worn smooth from what might have been countless of prisoners shackled with such a piece of brilliance.
He wants it in his collection.
“I want it. Name your price.”
There is no restriction on the price - not for this, and especially when he still has plenty of money left from his recent… job. He suspects the Noble Detective knows this as well, but the man does not need money, which means it is likely he’d want something else from Enomoto.
The Noble Detective laughs as he forks the cut pear and lightly licks the leaking juices on the prongs, eyes intense and focused as he meets Enomoto’s gaze directly. “I figured you would want it. Well, it is your lucky day, because I’m willing to offer it to you a very low price.”
“Name it.” His own plate of cut summer fruits served with a heap of whipped cream is forgotten, his world narrowing down to him, the aristocrat across from him, and the handcuffs between them. Sometime ago, he vaguely recalls hearing the Noble Detective dismissing his servants for the night, but that is unimportant.
“Enomoto-san, don’t you think you should try it first? I promise I have the working key.” His gaze smothers, and Enomoto recognizes the words for what they are; it is not a question, nor is it a request - an order for him to agree to.
Strangely enough, he does not mind the order. Warmth begins to pool under the cool swath of fabric that is his loaned kimono, and he is not going to blame the alcohol. Not when he is the one to silently offer the handcuff and locks to the Noble Detective instead, blood rushing to his cheeks.
“Very good.” The Noble Detective purrs, crooking a finger towards the locksmith. “Where shall we test this out then? You will want to be sure that the locking mechanism works, don’t you? And that it isn’t just a flimsy, brittle piece of metal that will shatter upon resistance.”
Enomoto’s throat dries, and he swallows a bit noisily, eyes glancing to the other side of the room where the bed is. “You’ve never tested it out?”
“No. You will be the first.”
That line is a lie, of course. Or at least, a lie in many ways, and perhaps only a truth in a tiny handful. If his presumptions of what the man is insinuating is true, then no, he is not the first for the Noble Detective, not in that sense. The man must have had previous conquests, women that have shared his bed… or shared their beds. But his heart thuds loudly in his chest at what that may imply if it is true. The first man he sleeps with?
The Noble Detective maybe a silver-tongued devil in the guise of an angel, but he is not a liar.
But now is not the time to overthink in this aspect; he is curious - just a bit curious - on this enigma of a man who keeps his name hidden, yet finds interest in someone as boring as a man with an obsession with locks.
An elegant hand clasps around his wrist, and the aristocrat is suddenly near him. From this closeness, Enomoto can see the man clearly, all sharp lines and gentle lines as the Noble Detective picks his glasses from the bridge of his nose and carefully rests it on the table. “Come. I think over there would be a good place to test it out, don't you think so?”
Nervousness sets in when his world blurs into a series of colours, only the close face of the man in front of him clear as he is pulled to stand up. He tries to bite down on the onslaught of panicked words that rests on the tip of his tongue, but it falls out of his mouth anyway.
“Is it really necessary to remove my glasses? I will not able to see the cuffs, nor anything beyond a meter’s distance without them. I might be prone to tripping or knocking onto —”
“It is fine. I'll make sure you won't fall. Don't worry. And isn't it the case that your other senses become a lot more… Sensitive, when one sense is removed? Isn't it important to evaluate the reliability of the cuffs and lock? How strong and well it restrains one? Is that not evaluated without eyesight, Enomoto-san?”
Perhaps Enomoto should have reminded the Noble Detective that he has no intentions of using the cuffs and lock in that manner, but he cannot argue with sound logic, not that he would have. So, he nods, and lets himself be led to the bed - like a sheep being led to the slaughterhouse by the big bad wolf, but something far better than death.
He wonders if the Noble Detective is familiar with the term ‘ Le Petit Mort ’.
A amused reply from the man himself has the locksmith cursing internally: alcohol has always made him more talkative. “Yes, I am familiar. Are you interested, Enomoto-san? I can help with that.”
“I’m sure you can.” Enomoto mumbles, cheeks settling to a light pink as he stumbles onto the edge of the futon, before he sinks his feet into the soft duvet. The fabric beneath his feet is cold, but it is not the reason for his shivers.
“You may sit here. Perhaps you should make yourself comfortable, even.” The words are breathed into Enomoto’s ear; he sits almost instantly, eyes fluttering shut when his back meets fluffy pillows. The kimono is still an inconvenience, but he says nothing as the Noble Detective begins to pull his arms to the right position - above his head - and locks them in place. The chain is long enough for his arms to be anchored in position, but not strained.
Enomoto tugs them to test their give, and a soft mewl escapes him when he realizes that he is certainly trapped . The smooth metal feels impersonal and claustrophobic, but what used to be a neutral, if not mild fascinating experience - for the sake of science - is now a something far more thrilling, filling his nerves with anticipation and heat.
“Does that feel alright?”
He swallows around the tightness in his throat and forces himself to nod, eyes instinctively closing around the unclear environment. A hand on his bare ankle causes him to jerk, the smooth palm sliding up his calf and under the thick swaths of kimono fabric to rest underneath Enomoto’s ankle. His obi suddenly feels too tight.
“Very good. Works perfectly.” Enomoto rasps, failing to open his eyes as he hears the ruffle of fabric and the cool air hitting his bare thighs. “Ideal for restraining people.”
“I can see that.”
A hand wraps behind his ankle, and his leg is lifted. A pair of hot lips press against his revealed skin, earning a moan from the bound man.
“Let’s stop with this charade, Kei.” Enomoto stills at the name, for no one has called him that for a long time. The grip on his ankle is still gentle, but the words tickle his skin, encouraging him to open his eyes to look at the Noble Detective.
“I’ll stop, but I still want the locks.”
The laughter he hears is like music to his ears, but the sight his eyes feast on is even better - the Noble Detective throws his head back to laugh, long neck drawing Enomoto’s eyes to it faster than he can blink. It has been a long while since he has found himself curious or craving for the contact of another human’s company, but this secretive man revives the carnal cravings he had tried hard to suppress. Their re-emergence does not come like slow burgeoning waves on his nerves, but rather a great tsunami that is preceded by tiny laps of water against his metaphorical feet.
No one has intrigued Enomoto this much since he found his love of locks and security, binary and numbers, physics and engineering.
“You will get them, but you have to give me something in return first, of course. That's only fair.”
“What d-do you w-wa—” his words turn into a moan when the Noble Detective harshly presses a bite on Enomoto’s knee.
“You know exactly what I want, Kei.” His voice is a smooth purr as he reaches behind Enomoto to undo the infernal obi in a deft motion, then pushing the sides of the kimono open to reveal the rest of Enomoto’s body, cool air causing Enomoto’s skin to prickle and head feel dizzy at the sudden rush of blood to his cock. “You’re doing it right now, looking and sounding as beautiful as you are. But there’s something else I want from you.”
Enomoto wonders if it is impolite to ask an aristocrat of the Noble Detective’s standing to shut up and kiss him. He reigns in his curiosity however, for it will not be smart to goad on someone who has the key to his literal freedom, and instead makes a questioning sound, for that is all his throat can produce at this moment. It is hard to think or speak when an attractive man is looming over Enomoto, the Noble Detective’s own kimono undone and tossed carelessly to the floor to reveal a sculpted body, thin but extremely well-contoured.
“I’m not going to ask you to beg, because someone like you - always hidden behind that stoic mask - will not beg… but I want you to tell me what you want.”
The Noble Detective presses a wet kiss against his pulsing carotid, and Enomoto’s breathes noisily, eyes snapping shut as he unconsciously arches towards the warm weight above him.
“I-is that not,” he licks his lips, throat dry, “is that not the same thing? Begging and telling you what I want. The premise is the same, because then you’ll know what I want you to —”
Enomoto is silenced by a pair of soft lips against his, the Noble Detective’s hair falling on the side of his face. He wishes he can touch it, weave his fingers into the man’s neat hair and trace the hard abdomen of the men above him, but the cuffs prevent him from doing so.
“You know, you talk too much when you’re nervous.” The Noble Detective laughs into his ear when they finally part for air. “It’s cute, but I’d prefer it if you just told me what you want, what you like. For example…”
Enomoto gasps when a hot hand suddenly sneaks into his underwear to wrap around his throbbing cock, squeezing lightly and running a thumb along the leaking slit. “...Do you want me to touch your cock?” The Noble Detective remains unbothered by the soft whimpers Enomoto is letting out now, pushing Enomoto’s underwear down to his ankles and tossing it in some other corner of the room as well. “Do you want me to grab your legs, and leave love bites on your pale skin?”
The aristocrat demonstrates every action, deliberately parting his legs to slot himself in there, and leave a trail of red marks as he sucks bruises into Enomoto’s inner thigh. “Or do you want to me to touch you here?” A finger gently prods along the rim of his opening, and Enomoto bites his lip until he tastes blood to stop himself from crying out too loudly.
The Noble Detective immediately removes his hands, replacing it on Enomoto’s cheeks and leaning in closer. “I dismissed my servants for the night; they understand the concept of privacy, I assure you. So, don’t hurt yourself trying to stay quiet. Now tell me what you want.”
What does he want? To see the man naked, for once, maybe. Or perhaps for the Noble Detective to explain to him why he was chosen for this, the reason for a man of his stature to risk gossip about having slept with a plain security shop owner. It does not make sense; does not conform to the image of a ‘gentleman’. Of course, such a question should be left for afterwards, perhaps.
“Naked.” He blurts out awkwardly, a small drop of sweat trickling down his temple from his arousal. “I mean, I want to see you naked.”
The Noble Detective gives him an impressed look, mouth o-shaped as he nods, removing the last inconvenient scrap of clothing that hid his own flushed length, held straight in an arc. Enomoto feels his mouth-watering at the sight, and wishes he can banish the cuffs momentarily. Now that the Noble Detective is fully naked, Enomoto cannot help but be curious of what that would feel like in him, and he wonders if the aristocrat will object to hastening the process just a little.
The chains produce a mild ‘clunk’ sound when he forgets that there is a reason why he cannot touch, and he whines unhappily.
“Feeling impatient, Kei?” The Noble Detective teases, resuming his earlier position between Enomoto's legs and running smooth hands down the inner length of his inner thighs and calves. The motion is almost reverent, and adds to the fire that is Enomoto's craving. “I'm surprised. I had thought you would ask a question instead, but no — it seems like you're equally excited as I am. So, tell me, what's next?”
Free me is his first thought, but it pales in importance than a far more pressing matter at hand. “I want you to f-fuck me.” The word stumbles on his tongue, profanity unfamiliar, but the lewdness does the trick, despite making him flush in embarrassment.
The Noble Detective’s expression brightens into childlike delight, and in an unexpected move, tightly hugs Enomoto, nearly crushing his small frame with the aristocrat’s taller build. “You actually said ‘fuck’. I didn’t think you would.”
“W-what?” Enomoto stammers, words thick upon his tongue as he processes the sensation of the Noble Detective’s body against his, their cocks pressing against each other’s as his mouth is suddenly occupied by a ravenous tongue that licks his teeth.
He is at a loss of what to do, wanting to be able to respond but unsure of how to, from a lack of experience and range of movement. He can only moan and pant at the intoxicating friction and heat in which his cock is trapped in, lips and tongue struggling to keep up with the other.
The word 'please’ is in the tip of his tongue, but he holds back, moaning instead and tugging at his wrists and chest heaving. The Noble Detective senses his discomfort and stops instantly, eyes filled with dark amusement as he lets Enomoto catch his breath. “Oh, don’t you know how to French kiss properly, my dear Kei? Breathe through your nose, or you’ll pass out from the lack of oxygen.”
And then he sweeps in once more, tongue forcing his way between Enomoto’s lips to coil itself with the locksmith’s tongue, wet and warm. Enomoto mewls at how dominating the kiss is, despite its gentleness - as though to educate and not scare him off. He appreciates the ‘lesson’ (and remembers to breathe), but his previous ‘statement’ of sort still applies. If only he could move his arms, then perhaps he could push the man away momentarily to get him to stop and really, just fuck him, but that seems impossible now.
As a result, he bites hard on the bottom lip of the Noble Detective, and relishes the loud groan the aristocrat releases at the sharp bite. The action garners the attention of the Noble Detective, who sits up to look lasciviously at what Enomoto presumes is a very, wrecked and lewd image of himself.
“I didn’t think you’d be feisty, Kei.”
“I s-said… I want you to fuck me.” Enomoto stubbornly repeats, arching his back pointedly. The fabrics shift with his movement, and he wonders what he looks like this.
“Impatient, but since you asked…” The Noble Detective reaches under one of the thick pillows beneath Enomoto to pull out a hidden tube of lubricant and a foil packet. “Tanaka outdoes herself, always.”
Enomoto flushes instantly in embarrassment, and looking away pointedly as he mumbles, “Your servants know?”
“My dear Kei… Do you not understand the meaning of me inviting you here, to my home, for dinner; the lovely kimono you are wearing now that I had custom-made for your arrival, with my family crest on it? My servants are as observant as you are, my dear. I do not have to tell them anything.” The Noble Detective croons as he begins to slick up his fingers, looking at Enomoto intently. “I am sure that a man of your intellect understood my intentions the moment I offered you to stay the night. If you did not, you would not be in this position, no?”
Enomoto’s guesses are indeed correct them.
A slick finger circles the rim of his hole, and he whimpers in anticipation. “W-why though?”
The look he earns is smothering as the Noble Detective presses their foreheads together in affection. “I’ve never met a man who is as beautiful and intelligent as you are. I had to see for myself. Also, I had a rare pair of handcuffs and locks that was not being used, and deserves a more devoted owner.” He pauses, and a flash of uncertainty passes over, too quick for a normal person to catch. “Do you understand?”
Of course, Enomoto does. The reasons for him daring to do such an act with the Noble Detective is similar - he was, is , curious about the man, and inexplicably drawn to his dubiosity and sharp intellect, hidden behind foppish flirtations.
He nods, a quick jerk of the head that earns a grateful forehead kiss.
The initial entrance has him nearly jerking out of the restraints with the burn of the intrusion. He whimpers, wrists pulling away from the pillar repeatedly but having no success as he fights the instinctive nature to run away from the pain.
“Shhh, you have to breathe through it. Relax, or you'll leave bruises on your wrists.”
Enomoto keens at the advice, finding it unhelpful as the Noble Detective continues to push in further, the act unfamiliar. Thrashing slightly, Enomoto tries to inch away from the aristocrat, eyes tightly shut as he winces and digs his toes into the sheets under him.
The finger stops, and Kei gasps at the reprieve.
“This isn't working, I see.” the Noble Detective sounds apologetic, kneading his thigh in a comforting manner. “Perhaps a little distraction might help.”
A hot, moist mouth sudden envelopes his cock, and Enomoto howls, foregoing the thought of servants hearing their act; there is no room for shame nor dignity in this situation. He tugs on his wrists and sobs unhappily when the cuffs trap him still; as he watches wide-eyed at the Noble Detective going down on him, he wishes he can bury his hands into the soft hair.
The man looks up for a short moment to teasingly look at Enomoto, winking, then before Enomoto can breathe a single plea to free him, the Noble Detective takes him so deep, the head of his cock hits the back of a throat - and the man swallows.
“Please!” He finally manages to force out, back arching as he pleads to be free. Feeling overwhelmed, he misses the moment when the Noble Detective finally manages to sink his finger into Enomoto’s body fully, taking advantage of his relaxed state to methodically prepare Enomoto.
“You’re begging.” The Noble Detective points out when he stops momentarily, a wide smile on his face. “And you’re so tight, Kei.” He lightly blows on the wet tip, chuckling darkly when Enomoto merely writhes again, softly chanting a series of ‘please’. “What are you begging for? For me to stop? To go faster?”
“Free my hands. Please.” He rasps, fists clenching and unclenching repeatedly as he yearns for something, someone to touch. He dreads the smile the plea earns, and when the Noble Detective shifts, seemingly to undo the cuffs, Enomoto finds a pair of thin, flat metal picks given to him.
And he goes back to suck Enomoto’s cock, intent on driving him insane and nearly causing Enomoto to drop the picks at the continuation of the torture. The lock is not difficult to pick, in fact, it is so doable that Enomoto will have been ashamed of himself of needing more than ten minutes to do so, hands fumbling and struggling to insert the two picks into the crude lock as his mind is driven blind with bliss. He whines as the Noble Detective sucks at the head, fingers going from one to two as he scissors within Enomoto and stretches him.
By the time his hands are free, the Noble Detective is already waiting, condom rolled onto his hard length and poised in front of his stretched hole. Enomoto’s hands fall onto the sheets below him, instinctively clutching onto them as he holds his breath.
“You should see yourself, Kei.” The Noble Detective's voice is strained, the tip of his cock pressing against Enomoto's entrance. “Flushed and begging. It makes me happy to know that I'm the first to see you like this. I am the first, aren't I?” He clarifies, teasing, as he slides his cock along the crack of Enomoto's ass, waiting.
“Y-yes.” Enomoto's voice breaks. “So, p-please.”
The blunt head pushes in slowly, and his name is torn out of the Noble Detective's throat as a moan as he slips into Enomoto's body, leaving burning passion in his path as he buries himself deep. “You’re so tight and hot around me.” He grunts, chest heaving as he holds himself still within the smaller frame in front of him, allowing Enomoto to accustom himself with the fullness. A sheen of sweat covers the pair as the Noble Detective leans forward, bracing himself on his elbows as he grabs onto Enomoto’s hands.
Enomoto struggles to breath around the foreign fullness, but despite feeling completely overwhelmed, there is not denying that the presence of the Noble Detective in him feels good . His lean legs instinctively shift to wrap around the Noble Detective’s slim hips, and tightens.
The small motion causes the Noble Detective to jerk slightly deeper, and they groan into each other’s ear simultaneously.
“Move.” Enomoto says quietly, but it is no longer a plea, rather an order.
The Noble Detective laughs, but does as ordered to, slowly pulling out halfway before thrusting inside in a swift motion. “No more begging then?” He grunts as he begins a slow and steady rhythm, rocking into Enomoto and relishing the soft pants and moans. “I’m not sure if I preferred you better begging or not.”
Enomoto merely digs his nails into the soft palm of the aristocrat in annoyance - the man speaks too much. “Faster.”
“Bossy.” The Noble Detective comments, breathless and amused, but performs what is wished of him anyway, pistoning his cock into Enomoto in quick, powerful jerks that render both men speechless. Enomoto cries out when a tiny shift in angle allows for a specific spot in him to be pressed so deliciously, and the Noble Detective knows , adjusting to powerfully slam into that exact spot perfectly with every subsequent thrust.
He edges closer, closer , and he lets that be known to the aristocrat, whining and mewling and ordering him for “More, more, more.”; until they both are at their wit’s end, the Noble Detective looking so delightfully beautiful as he throw his head back, sweat trickling down his defined neck…
The Noble Detective releases one of his hands from Enomoto’s grip to slip between their bodies, gazing down at Enomoto with dark lust as he wraps his hand around the leaking, hot cock between them and pulls .
Enomoto throws his head back and cries out as he comes in pearly white streams between their bodies, clenching around the hardness within him and milking the orgasm out of the Noble Detective as well, who gasps and groans out a muffled version of Enomoto’s name into his shoulder.
When they finally catch their breath, or at least, Enomoto has, he can only pant tiredly as his torso is wiped clean with a fresh towel next to the bed (when had that appeared, or rather, how has he not noticed it by now - he is unsurprised, really), kimono tossed to the side and the Noble Detective resituating himself next to his limp form.
He is sleepy, and he wants warmth.
The Noble Detective pulls him closer, and he does not fight, sinking into the soft bed and feeling utterly spent. He has not had such an intense lover in years.
“You’re going to sleep here with me, and when we wake up, we’re going to have a dip in my private bath before I fuck you senseless again. What do you say?”
Enomoto internally rolls his eyes at the ordering tone. “I’m going back to Tokyo tomorrow afternoon still. I have a shop to run.”
“You mean to your little den where thieves go to for supplies?” The Noble Detective chuckles, inching closer to Enomoto and nuzzle against the soft head of hair. “Of course, Kei. I won’t stop you - that is your hobby, isn’t it?”
“What my customers do with their purchases is not of matter to me.” Enomoto reasons, but sleepily nods as a response to the last question.
“Well, that’s settled then. I won’t take that away from you, of course, I rather you be happy. But do expect some visits from me.”
Enomoto jerks up at the statement, eyes narrow. “Don’t you dare send any of your servants to my shop to ‘clean up’. I keep my locks in sealed glass cabinets and do frequently dust the shop to prevent the locks from being degraded by dust part—”
The last part of his statement is reduced to mumble as the Noble Detective pulls him back into bed and shuts him up with a sleepy kiss.