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the utility closet incident

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The thundering sound of heavy footsteps echoing behind him made his heartbeat skyrocket, the flow of blood drumming in his ears. He fucked up. Truly, utterly, sincerely fucked up. Makoto wished he could blame the slip up on Laurent if only to wipe that wild grin off his face. But of course, this time around it just had to be his fault.

They swindled the United States government of their million dollar bills with complete ease, and the scheme was rolling to a smooth end. Laurent and Makoto—dressed in the most luxurious tuxedos and slicked-back hair—strolled down the hallways to escape without suspicion. Everything seemed to have gone as planned with perfection, better than any con prior. Makoto had even cupped Laurent's face and pulled him into a kiss when he realized just how well they managed to pull off their diplomat roles. Well, that part wasn't exactly planned, but he enjoyed the sensation. Laurent's lips were thin but impossibly smooth, and as impulsive as the act was, Makoto couldn't shovel down the pride that rose at the sight of Laurent's shocked expression, tinted the lightest shade of pink. He couldn't even find it in himself to feel the shame or regret he knew he would have felt if this happened two or three years ago—the time Laurent arranged for Oz to show his face during the heist with Suzaku's "company."

Yet, Makoto just had to jinx it, swearing under his breath as he realized evidence was left behind in one of the offices—evidence that could lead to the downfall of the heist they worked on for months. All that meticulous outlining and research would be flushed down the drain.

Immediately, Makoto bolted in the opposite direction. Laurent gave a shout of his name which predictably did nothing to sway Makoto from his path. So, Laurent was quick to match Makoto's pace. He appeared by his side almost immediately, helping demolish any potential crumb of evidence.

And yet, here they were: two—presumably fired, Laurent whimsically thought—government diplomats being chased by at least a dozen gun-wielding agents. He couldn't even claim to know what to do; nobody planned for this outcome. But could they truly call themselves confidence men if they couldn't bullshit their way out of any situation? Laurent's entire life motto was practically built on the theme of making shit up on the fly, but Makoto had to learn that the hard way early on in their time together.

Every new path they unlocked as they ran down the hallways forced Makoto to make rapid fire decisions that Laurent would have to follow. That's what you get for not being the line leader, Laurent shrugged to himself mid-sprint.

Several hallways and doors lead to dead ends, politicians' offices, and business meeting rooms. Otherwise, the spacious areas lacking in furniture did not leave Makoto with much to work around. Turning the corner, feeling Laurent's expensive shoes on his tail, he spotted an odd, wooden door. It stood out compared to the other doors but in the way a man in sweatpants and a hoodie stood out among a crowd of business men and celebrities: the door was completely ordinary and overlooked by any person passing it.

Snatching Laurent's wrist, Makoto yanked the door open and pushed the man into the room without a single glance as to what the room could possibly hold. Following close behind, Makoto shoved himself into the room. Quietly yet with hasty speed, he shut the door as to not alert the agents. A deep breath barrelled out of his lungs.

"This is quite the predicament you have put us in," Laurent appraised with a cheerful tone. Makoto blinked, finally registering where exactly he threw them. It was possibly the tiniest room Makoto has ever had the displeasure to enter, considering the fact he wouldn't even call this a room. He imagined high school lockers' wider than this, but only by a minuscule increment.

He couldn't even describe what purpose a room smaller than a bathroom stall would possess. The only object in the room was an upside down basket that Laurent had sat down on. There was probably equipment of some sort underneath the basket if it was able to withstand Laurent's lanky body with ease. His knees were only inches away from touching the walls.

"It's not like you had a better idea," Makoto grumbled. "Besides, we can't outrun government agents forever, we'd pass out before stepping foot out of the building." He had to plant his hands on either side of Laurent's head. Not only because there was no other place for them to go but also to prevent himself from collapsing out of exhaustion. He had never been the athletic type, and while Laurent seemed to be faring better than he was, the way his plump lips still glossy and peach from their kiss were parted a little too widely indicated otherwise. Makoto pointedly looked away.

"No, I admit this was not something I anticipated," Laurent began. His hands creeped along the outside of Makoto's thighs. "However, I can't say I'm opposed to this outcome either."

Makoto squinted with suspicion at the man in an attempt to distract himself from the pleasant buzz Laurent's touch gave him. "You can't be serious right now," he questioned.

"Why not? Did our brilliant strategist suddenly come up with a plan to get us out of here?" Makoto clicked his tongue and turned his head away.

"No," he murmured underneath his breath. Guilt bubbled in the pit of his heart. This was possibly the worst move he could have made. The only way he saw them leaving this building was in either handcuffs or bodybags, and it was his fault they landed in here. 'Here' being some dusty, abandoned utility closet. He dropped his forehead against the wall with a sigh.

"Now, dear, no need to get upset," Laurent suggested softly, almost too gentle to be a tease. Makoto eyed him from the side and ignored the nickname, watching an attempt at a comforting smile form on his face. The thought behind the actions made Makoto's heart stutter, but anger at himself and their situation still possessed him.

"How could I not be upset right now?!" Makoto hissed out. At Laurent's patient silence accompanied with a smile too wide and curved to be comforting, he sighed, "well, what do you think we should do now?" Laurent hummed, trailing his hands up Makoto's hips, then his sides.

"I'm being serious here, asshole," Makoto growled in a low tone.

"I know you are. That glare you have on is very cute," he chuckled, narrowly avoided the fist that swung in front of his face. Backing down, Laurent held the man with a firm grasps on his torso. "I suggest we wait this out. They'll tire of the search, reconvene somewhere far away from here. Then, we duck out when the footsteps fade into the distance." It wasn't the worst plan. Makoto checked his cellphone to only see that there was no service. He couldn't even text Cynthia or Abby for help. What a truly terrible closet.

Makoto scoffed, placing the decidedly useless phone back into his pocket, "you make it sound so simple."

Laurent peered up at him, batting his eyelashes. "Because it is," he claimed, "you need to trust yourself." Silence echoed after his declaration, and Makoto felt an ounce of anxiety spike through his system. Laurent still had his hands on him. He tapped his toe to exhaust some of the tension, but with the rate he was going at, he was going to puncture a hole into the ground like a jackhammer.

"You seem stressed," Laurent commented like there wasn't a reason to be stressed, like they weren't wanted criminals hiding in the shittiest excuse for a storage closet.

"I wonder why," Makoto sneered, sending the other man a heated scowl.

"I could help relieve some of that tension," Laurent suggested with a smooth tone.

Makoto had to control himself from rolling his eyes. He twitched underneath the man's offer sending a narrowed look in his direction.

"Quit joking around," he whispered with a harsh tone. 

Laurent gave him puppy eyes, murmuring defensively, "I would never joke about this, Edamame—"

"Then at least pronounce my name correctly!" Makoto scolded in that disdainful yet hushed voice, whipping his head back in Laurent's direction. He should have known indulging in the man's tasteless antics would produce such a blinding smirk. Laurent opened his mouth to speak, but Makoto was quick to cut him off.

"Never mind, that's not the issue here," Makoto said, "we are not having sex in a utility closet."

"Ah, but anywhere else would be acceptable?" Laurent caught on, grinning up at him through illuminating eyes.

"No! T-That's not what I meant, and you know it!" Makoto rushed to defend himself, blood shooting to the forefront of his skin and erupting a stark blush.

"If you're really that adverse  perhaps we can instead discuss that wonderful kiss you bestowed upon me," Laurent proposed. Makoto froze, all the anger draining out of his system. He was actually hoping Laurent wouldn't bring that up for at least 24 hours. Turns out even asking for one hour would be asking for too much.

"It—" Makoto started, "It was just a kiss, nothing more!"

Laurent smiled. "Of course."

"And I definitely didn't enjoy it!"

"Why would you?" Laurent nodded along with a knowing smirk. Damn him.

"And it'll never happen again, so be grateful it even happened once!" Makoto declared, pointing an accusatory finger in Laurent's face. There wasn't much room for his arm to stretch out completely while also avoiding bumping into the door behind him.

"I will forever consider myself fortunate to have been blessed by your good graces," Laurent vowed. He wrapped a hand around the wrist in his face. Coaxing the fingers into a relaxed fist, a kiss was planted on each of his knuckles. His heart drummed faster at how the skin blossomed into a beautiful, peach color after each kiss. He knew that if he glanced up at the hand's owner that his face would be adorned with that same riveting hue.

"You're ridiculous," Makoto accused, the raging fire from his previous statements dying out.

"Why, thank you."

"That was an insult," Makoto claimed. He watched through widened eyes as Laurent peppered chaste yet passionate kisses along his fingers, each digit receiving thorough devotion.

"L-Laurent," Makoto stammered out.

He peeked up and an indescribable emotion raced through him at the sight. Makoto, pupils blown wide open with awe, complimented by the dusty rose tone on his cheeks and ears. The blush was quickly spreading down his face, making its way to his collarbone which was buried underneath his dark suit. Laurent wanted to lick its path, to encourage the blossoming palette of reds, to learn what Makoto Edamura tasted like.

"Yes, mon cher?" Laurent called out with steadiness. He could tell Makoto wanted to cover his mouth to block any noise that might escape, but his only free hand was still holding him up against the wall behind Laurent.

Makoto grumbled something indiscernible, words barely passing the volume of a whisper.

Laurent raised an eyebrow which portrayed feigned innocence. "Hmm, what is it? If you want something, you're going to have to speak your mind," he asserted as his thumb smoothed over the kisses laid on his knuckles.

"My legs," Makoto began weakly, his voice wavering, "they're going to give out." Laurent glimpsed down at said legs which were framed in between his own knees. He could feel Makoto's legs shaking with a slight tremor, half from the running and half from whatever emotion he has unburied from its resting place deep inside Makoto's pacing heart. Excitement flooded his system when he saw just how hard Makoto was becoming from the simple, innocent touches.

"Lucky for you there's an available seat nearby," Laurent replied gleefully. Makoto opened his mouth to respond with a retort, because he'd very much like to know where the space even was for another cobweb riddled basket to be sitting. Laurent simply leaned back, patting his legs with both hands and a dazzling smile.

Makoto's eyes shot open even wider than before, but soon composed himself. He snorted out a hmph before urning around and depositing himself on the legs presented with crossed arms. Much to his surprise, Laurent wasn't as boney as he had believed—not that he thought about it often, of course, nor would he be admitting this out loud.

"There we are," Laurent spoke, the breath of his words ghosting along the shell of Makoto's ear. He shivered, tensing at all the bodily sensations.

"Is this satisfactory?" Laurent teased with a questioning tone. He watched as Makoto kept shifting around, clearly attempting to keep his back a fair amount of distance away from him. The motions stirred desire in his groin, blood flooding downward.

"It's alright," Makoto huffed out, continuing to shuffle around, searching for the most relaxing way to sit. Despite being a virgin with next to no knowledge about seduction, Makoto certainly knew how to get a rise out of him, both physically and metaphorically. Laurent's deep chuckle froze his movements.

"I'm not sure you want to keep doing that," Laurent suggested, tapping his finger against the wall to collect himself.

"What? Why?" Makoto glared at him from the side. He was always so cute when he looked fed up with Laurent's quips. "Your legs aren't cushy at all."

Laurent patiently sighed as he held Makoto's waist with a slow grasp, testing the limits. His hands pulled the shorter man against him, causing him to grind his ass right on top of his large, clothed bulge which was quickly hardening. Makoto's shoulders jutted up at the unexpected sensation, bracing himself with his hands against the walls and a fast inhale.

"You are an enticing creature," Laurent murmured along the side of his neck. He was tempted to nip at the skin, but waited for Makoto's response. His thumbs rubbed circled into his hips.

After taking a few seconds to let the shock ride through his system, Makoto consider his options. He could  jump off his lap, bolt from the utility closet and risk getting caught in exchange for fresh air. Air that wasn't tainted with the pheromones of the aphrodisiac known as Laurent Thierry. Or, he could lean back against his broad chest, allow himself to fall apart from Laurent's hands dancing across his skin, slender fingers prying him open and reaching into the deepest parts of him with such gentle movements, he'd cry at the intimacy of it all.

"I can't believe you," Makoto breathed out, "this is definitely not the place to be getting a boner." His scoldings were always so adorable, especially when they lacked the bite, all talk and no walk.

"Yes, I suppose you are right, my dear Edamame," Laurent agreed. Makoto felt that sinister grin plastered against his neck. "Then, would you mind giving me a hand with this pesky problem of mine?" He watched as the tips of Makoto's ears flushed at the innuendo before the other man draped his back onto his chest albeit with some hesitance, presumably from a lack of experience. His neck rested against his shoulder which left that fiery mouth dangerously close to his ear. Arms wound themselves around the younger man to pull him closer, cupping Makoto's shoulders firmly.

Laurent began pecking at Makoto's neck, admiring the softness underneath his lips. A shaky exhale brushed against his ear as Makoto grabbed at Laurent's shoulders, wrinkling the fabric. He caught skin between his teeth and shivered at the quivering whimper Makoto let out. It resonated with some carnal instinct in him.

"Don't fret over those agents anymore," Laurent persuaded with a kiss to the mark that would surely form, "how about you focus on me instead." He trailed his nimble fingers down Makoto's chest, fiddling with each passing button. His other hand kept the man caged against him familiar like a warm hug, yet unfamiliar like a straightjacket.

Makoto rocked his hip in a back-and-forth motion. The friction forced a wanton moan to drip from Laurent's lips—he felt it reverberate against the pulse beating in his neck. He framed one of Laurent's legs with both of his and picked back up on rubbing his ass against the clothed leg and Laurent's cock.

"You are far more confident in this than I had expected you to be," Laurent breathily remarked as he pushed Makoto's shirt to the side. They didn't have time to undress completely—a damn shame, really.

"Pervert—" Makoto whined out when Laurent's fingers brushed with a feather touch against one of his nipples. He circled the pink mound with his finger, applying more pressure with each pass. He watched as Makoto writhed at how sensitive his nipples were.

"l don't believe I'm the pervert here" Laurent noted, enticed by the way Makoto shamelessly grinding his cock against him, watching desperation claim hold on his rational thinking abilities. He could feel the man hardening with each stroke. "You're the one mewling like a cat in heat."

Makoto turned his head to glare daggers, but his nose collided with Laurent's cheek. The angle had Laurent bending his neck into an awkward position, but it was worth the reaction that he drew from Makoto. He could feel the other's breath against his lips, tasting that badly hidden excitement.

"You know, if you keep up the noise, those agents may hear us," Laurent pondered before leaning forward to claim Makoto's lips. They were the tiniest bit chapped, but supple enough for it to not matter. It never did matter to Laurent anyway. How could he complain when it was Makoto Edamura's lips he was finally kissing?

Pulling back to regain some air, Makoto's frustrated facade finally melted away when Laurent cupped his still clothed cock. He teased the zipper before finally pulling it down after Makoto sobbed a muffled please  against his lips. "And as much as it would please me to continue listening to the melody that is your beautiful whimpers, I'd like to avoid being captured."

Makoto huffed against his lips, stuttering from Laurent's praised, "then you better hurry up." A sudden jolt of confidence rushed through Makoto's system. He grabbed Laurent's wrist, placing his palm on top of his hand and guided it onto his cock. A victorious grin grew on his face when he felt more than he heard Laurent's surprised inhale. He knocked their foreheads together, biting Laurent's lower lip.

"C'mon then," Makoto begged with an air of dominance, using his other hand to cup Laurent's cheek.

"Well, since you have been so good for me," Laurent trailed off, "how could I refuse." He started to stroke through his underwear at an unbearably slow pace. His boxers were already damp near his bulge and Laurent couldn't help feel a bit prideful about it. Makoto rutted against his palm, tilting his hips up and then down, following the motions of the hand massaging him. Filthy moans that Makoto should have been embarrassed about—if only for the fact he didn't even know he could make such a sound—fell from his pliant lips which hung open, ready for Laurent's lips to claim them as his.  Sly fingers lifted themselves from his cock, much to Makoto's displeasure.

"La—Laurent, " Makoto whined, breath heavy with list.

Laurent chuckled, pressing a sweet kiss to his lips. "Now, now. No need to be so impatient," he declared, "I'm giving you what you have finally been waiting for, after all." He shifted the band of his underwear to fit underneath his balls. Laurent observed with fascination as Makoto's cock practically bounced when the fabric moved away, resting and aching against his stomach. His fingers were drenched in precum the second he brushed against his cock directly.

A shaky sigh dropped from Makoto's lips. He rushed to cup Laurent's cheek again to capture his lips in another kiss. This time, Laurent licked his way into Makoto's mouth with his tongue. Makoto fumbled along the novel sensation, but was quick to learn and copy Laurent's movements. Soon enough, he slipped his tongue past Laurent's lips, to taste and indulge himself in the delicacy. Losing himself to Laurent's tongue, he jutted away to gasp for air and just knew he probably looked a wreck.

He adored the way Makoto complied to his whims, lips dropping open as if ready to accept Laurent's intrusion whenever he desired. Laurent moved back to fully admire the view: Makoto's lips slick with the string of saliva that connected their mouths, drool trailing down the side, cheeks flaring away with that same rosy hue, his eyes hazed over and glossy from pleasure. What a mess. Laurent smiled.

Curling a hand around his cock, Laurent started to pick up the speed to large, spirited strokes, pulling the neediest whimpers from Makoto. His thumb slid against his dripping slit, causing Makoto to twitch in his lap with an unsteady a-ahhh, Laurent—please!

His trembling weep combined with that needy whine had to have been Laurent's new favorite sound. He couldn't wait to learn all the possible sounds Makoto could make in the throes of passion, corrupted from arousal.

His motions came to an unpleasant stop, his entire body freezing. Makoto groaned at the sudden halt, but shot Laurent a look of concern.

"What? Is everything okay?" Makoto interrogated, noting Laurent's lack of a response, "did something hap-" The arm still wrapped around Makoto's chest tightened as Laurent placed his pointer finger to his lips which had uncurled from the charming smile that had been present before. Makoto stilled, remembering the severity of their situation.

Faint noises of scuffled boots and muffled conversations reached Laurent's ears. The agents had come back around to their side of the building—either to give up on the search or to perform a more thorough investigation in their specific area, he couldn't say which. But, one thing was certain: if Makoto kept moaning with such intensity, they would be dead in seconds.

Laurent's hand snuck from his face to cover Makoto, palm quietly snapping over those bitten-red lips. It was a horrible shame to cover up the beautiful sight and obstruct his angelic gasps, but compromises had to be made. Predictably, Makoto squirmed against the touch, his anger conveyed by the incoherent complaints blocked by his hand. Both of his hands clawed at Laurent's wrist, the strength of his nails ensuring a few scratches.

"Ah, ahhh, I need you to be silent for me," Laurent chided. Slithering his hand away from his leaking cock, he could feel Makoto's dissatisfied groan. He slipped a hand into his pockets to reach for his phone. Three bars. That'll work. Laurent typed in Makoto's phone passcode like it was his own—much to the bewilderment of the phone's owner, because how the fuck did he know his passcode—and searched for Abby's contact name. He continued to press light kisses into his neck as an apology, not for intruding in on his privacy but for ignoring his aching cock that didn't seem to be going down any time soon.

He started typing a text with his only available hand which asked for a distraction that would relocate the agents away from their position. The text was sent and delivered to Abby!! :)

"Do I get  a special name in your contact list too?" Laurent asked, but not to Makoto really. Not that he could answer even if Laurent was genuinely asking him. He scuffled against the restraint once more when he saw Laurent start to scroll through his phone. His cock continued to harden, almost like the neglect turned him on even more. Laurent was controlling every step of their dance, suspending him at every dip in their waltz before surely lifting him back up with that same, taunting grin.

Laurent knocked him out of his thoughts when he rubbed their temples together. God, he may have been the one that got compared to a cat earlier, but this man wasn't any different. "Aww, what's this?" Laurent pouted, "my name in here isn't any fun at all." He was right. It was just a simple laurent. If he wanted a better name, he'd have to earn it. Or, you know, change it himself like he was doing right now.

He blinked and the contact name changed from laurent to my handsome lover with a heart emoji. When they got out of here, Makoto was going to fucking kill him—well, that would only be if they got out of here without being killed first.

A notification from Abby!! :) popped up from the top of the screen with a simple 'k.' Laurent couldn't help but sigh in relief, pocketing the phone back where it belong and directed his attention back to their original problem. He was a bit astonished but thrilled to see Makoto still flushed red and dripping with precum.

"You're so pretty like this," Laurent drawled out as he picked back up on stroking Makoto who arched his back, delighted with the direction they were headed. His palm stayed against Makoto's mouth, but if he leaned in close enough, he could hear his high pitched moans.

Heavy footsteps creeped closer, blocking the light flooding underneath the door. Laurent watched the panic override Makoto's arousal, planting both his hands over his own mouth. Three hands now obstructed any noise from leaking out, yet Makoto still believed he would be sobbing loud enough to bypass those barriers.

Laurent bit the shell of Makoto's ear ever so lightly, causing Makoto to apply more pressure onto their hands as if they could get any closer. His eyes fluttered shut, squeezing close like it would stop the pathetic whimpers.

A menacing chuckle rumbled against his ear. "We could get caught right now," Laurent whispered, idly thumbing his cock's slit. He felt more sensitive to the sliding motion more so now than before, jutting his hips forward into his hand. "Do you perhaps want to get caught?"

The obvious answer was no, of course he did not want to be caught rutting his leaking cock against his coworkers pants like a horny teenager playing seven minutes in heaven. On the other hand though, the thought of cold and confused government officials watching, spectating as Laurent pried him apart, drawing tears and hopeless whines to the surface for everyone to observe, showcasing to everyone who Makoto belonged to—to him and nobody else.  He didn't want to think about how quick he could get behind the that fantasy.

Makoto's guttural moan must have translated his thoughts, because Laurent hummed against his neck.

"So filthy," he called out, "who would have guessed our little soybean had such a sordid imagination."

A blazing heat of arousal slammed into Makoto's pit, causing him to suddenly grasp at Laurent's shoulders and jerk away from his palm.

He wailed as quietly as he could in his hazy, fucked out state, "L-Laurent—I'm close!" panting against his neck. Laurent dutifully picked up the pace, stroking Makoto and watching as he urged his hips to thrust into Laurent's hand. He felt more than saw Makoto's body tense up when he came, spurting all over his fingers. Makoto panted against his neck, hips slowing to a languid pace. His jaw froze slack and wide open, solid breaths of exhaustion heaving out.

The light underneath the door flickered as dozens of feet shuffled across the floor at the booming shout of a 'let's go, let's go!' Makoto felt his exhale of relief bounce off Laurent's fingers and back into his face.

"That must be our Abby," Laurent commented.

Glancing down, he witnessed Makoto completely relaxed, chest rising for a minute only to fall back down a minute later. He peeled his eyes open, but they remained unfocused and hazy. The sight gave Laurent a reason to smile, a genuine smile that lacked its previous mischievousness. He continued to stroke Makoto even after his orgasm to ease him out of the sensation.

"Are you alright?" Laurent asked what seemed like an eternity later when Makoto finally gained feeling in his hands and tucked himself back in. He combed back the slicked back brunette locks in an idle attempt to soothe him down from the high.

Lazily turning his head, Makoto stared into Laurent's eyes. The look that once conveyed frustration, aiming to kill, now appeared more soft and vulnerable. Twisting around into an awkward position, Makoto cupped both of Laurent's cheeks to drag him into a kiss, open-mouthed and slow.

Pulling back, Makoto gave one last pass over Laurent's bottom lip, teeth trailing against the sensitive skin, before smiling.

"I still think you're ridiculous," he replied with a tranquility that froze time, isolating them from the rest of the world. Laurent's face practically beamed with how joyful he was, aware the wide, starry-eyed expression smacked on his face broadcasted the fondness he possessed for the other. 

"We should probably get out of here though," Makoto sighed, "before they realize." He waved a hand in the vague direction the agents presumably went.

Nodding, Laurent went to zip Makoto up all the way, to redo the buttons of his disheveled shirt before remembering his fingers were coated in Makoto's cum. The two locked eyes on his slick hand at the same time and could both feel the heat rising to Makoto's face.

Without a word, Laurent brought the fingers to his mouth and watched as Makoto followed the line of sight. Parting his lips, Laurent pushed two fingers into his mouth and began dining on the bitter taste.

Eyebrows shot up, Makoto jerked his body around to completely take in the view like Laurent had performed the most outrageous magic trick. He might as well have: after sucking so diligently on the two digits, he pulled them out only to reveal they were only covered in the thinnest layer of saliva, no cum in sight.

Laurent continued to press his tongue flat on his skin, passing over every inch that had even a speck of Makoto's cum. Such a divine taste, fit for only the most distinguished specimen. His hand was now wiped clean and any evidence of today's event remained between the two of them only.

Jealously burned in his heart from the mere idea of the disgusting hands touching Makoto's body, squashing their wicked touch on skin they were not worthy to even look at. Makoto was a brilliant, magnificent, cruel being, far more powerful than others would be led to believe.

The thought pushed him to wrap his arms around Makoto's waist, squeezing to remind himself that Makoto trusted him with his body and mind and not any other being. (He had lost Makoto's trust before, and vengeance had wrecked them both, but this time would be different).

"Laurent?" Makoto poked at his arms. Laurent tilted his head to fit beside his ear once more, giving Makoto the chance to feel his grin.





A week had passed since what Makoto so appropriately dubbed as the 'utility closet incident.' Cynthia had planned for an after-heist party at one of her beach houses, and they were both of course invited to attend. Laurent arrived way before it started to not help set up for the party, but to watch Makoto help set up while he and Cynthia drank wine and discussed the latest.

He called Makoto once and his face twisted in confusion when a robotic tone responded, asking him to leave a message. Trying once more, Laurent waited, hanging up when he heard that same, monotonous voice again. He had wanted to grab something to eat with Makoto before he let his busy bee do all the work. Guess he had to scratch that plan out of his schedule. Sighing, he entered Cynthia's abode and picked up on the sound of running water.

"Honey, I'm home!" Laurent chimed with a booming voice, unaware and uncaring about who it really was on the other end.

"Give me a minute, I'm about to get out!" Makoto shouted back, refusing to acknowledge the nickname. It was endearing the way he went from protesting against the titles thrown at him to outright ignoring them.

A pleased smile formed on his face when he recognized the sweet voice. He placed his groceries—a couple of wine bottles, appetizers, and ingredients for Shi-won to use—onto the counter. Beside the bags laid an unmistakeable phone in an ordinary, plain case. Chuckling to himself, Laurent picked up the device to search through it once more.

His heart stopped at the notification on the lock screen. He read it over once and then twice like he misinterpreted the words. Two missed calls from my stupidly handsome lover adorned with the same, ridiculous heart emoji.

Laurent put the phone down with a giddy laugh. He should go see Makoto right this second.