“Try to have fun without us,” Saya told the men who stood at the steps of JuOhCho to see the girls - plus boy - off.

As Tatsumi bowed politely to them, Watari waved in return. “No, we’ll just cry,” the scientist said lightly.

“For joy,” Terazuma added with a frown.

“See you later, Hajime-chan.” Wakaba smiled happily at her partner as he looked towards her and grunted something mildly affectionate.

Off to the side, a little ways from the crowd, Hisoka and Tsuzuki stood not quite facing each other yet not quite turned. Hisoka stared at his feet, with his hands shoved deep inside his spring coat.

“Are you all right with this?” Tsuzuki asked, fiddling with his own sleeves. The man’s nervousness colored Hisoka’s senses like a drop of ink in a glass of water. There was a vague ache in his chest, and he wondered if he had hurt the man’s feelings someway.

“I’ll be fine,” the teen said. Then almost as an afterthought, he added with a softer tone, “Don’t worry about me.”

“Well... see you, then.”

“See you.”

He had never been one of many words, but perhaps there could have been something he might have said to Tsuzuki that would make that lingering apprehension go away. But no more words were uttered save for quick farewells, and Hisoka did not look back as they departed for the Castle of Candles, though he imagined could feel amethyst eyes following him as far as they could.

~*~*~

‘It’s like fire,’ Tsuzuki idly thought once he returned to his desk, which faced his partner’s own currently unoccupied desk. ‘Or like an ember.’

He was trying to describe to himself this... stress... that built up in the Shinigami. If Hisoka ever asked, he wanted to have a ready answer, at least, and not like before in the hallway. The man leaned back in his chair and covered his eyes with the back of a hand, half-horrified at Hisoka’s reaction, and knowing that he could have prevented it in someway. When he had carried the young man to the infirmary, he promised him - to the both of them - to make this as easy of a ordeal as possible. He wondered if he would have the chance to hold Hisoka like that again - not unconscious, but close, with the light brown-sugar hair framing such a gentle-seeming face in sleep, and warm breath steady and calm against his chest...

‘Yes, it is like an ember,’ Tsuzuki decided, his face heating up with guilt at the directions his thoughts were about to take. Lust and passion were not alien emotions to any of them, but when the time came and due to whatever alignment of space or time or spirit the Shinigami were just about glowing with unused energy. There were some that tried to fight this pull for release. Terazuma, for example, made his best damned attempt to become an asexual monk during these times, but even he couldn’t stave off the rising hormones.

In them a strange beast emerged, something instinctual and purely basic, and along with it was a new sensitivity to all things attractive. And for a week smells were stronger, as was sound, the taste of sweets overpowering, colors were brighter and warmer, and touch was so much more pleasant.

Tsuzuki leaned back on his chair and rubbed his face. Truth be told, he wanted Hisoka. Wanted to smell, touch, see, hear, and taste the young man in ways he wasn’t sure was entirely good and made him tremble with horrible guilt in the early mornings. But he didn’t know if Hisoka could ever want him in “that” way - didn’t know how anyone could.

The office door creaked open, a sudden interruption to his thoughts.

“Tsuzuki-san? Is everything all right?” Tatsumi asked as he shut the door quietly behind him.

“Tatsumi,” Tsuzuki said, his forlorn expression slipping under a cheerful smile. He sat up straight in his chair. “I’m fine - just filling out the forms, yes, yup.”

“Are you sure?” he responded, stressing the word “sure” and casting a doubtful glance over Tsuzuki’s messy table before resting blue eyes on the man. His instincts would indicate that Tsuzuki was distressed, and if not his instincts, then the uneaten donut and the recent departure of Hisoka coupled with the dimmed glow of purple eyes were glaringly obvious signs in which only an idiot would not see.

A nod. “Uh-huh.” But then, everything was instinctual when it came to Tsuzuki.

“Really?” Tatsumi said conversationally. There was a click - the sound of shadows turning a lock. “Working hard, are you.”

“Y-yeah,” Tsuzuki gulped, an expression of “oh” dawning on his face. With the lust-lowered stare and the B-rated dialogue Tatsumi could laugh at himself for later, the shadow-master came to lean on the edge of the desk. He lifted Tsuzuki’s chin and paused a moment before placing the expected non-surprise of a kiss carefully on the Shinigami’s lips.

“Tsuzuki-san,” he said quietly when they separated. “Hisoka is going to be just fine.”

“Ah...” He looked as abashed as a child caught doing something bad.

“He’ll be okay,” Tatsumi repeated, loosening the other’s tie and undoing the white shirt. “So I think it would be - “ A kiss on his chest. “ - in your best interest - “ Another kiss, lower. “ - to just relax.” And subtle nips all the way down to the horizon of Tsuzuki’s belt.

“Tatsumi...” he whispered, with other unsaid wants coloring his voice, and then licked his lips. Tatsumi felt fortunate to ever be allowed to bare witness to such a beautiful man like this, warm and willing, with Tsuzuki’s tie and shirt spilling off his body like cotton waves on a sun-kissed beach.

Kneeling now, Tatsumi wondered how he should proceed, if it was all right to give into the growing impulse to rip off Tsuzuki’s belt and do so many things to him until the man forgot his troubles. Sex as a distraction, though temporary. He hesitated as something dark and sad fluttered through his heart. Tsuzuki deserved better than that.

“Tatsumi,” Tsuzuki said again, this time with concern. Blue eyes looked up into another world, seeing a sort of acknowledgement in his suddenly wizen gaze, as if he were not just Tsuzuki-san of JuOhCho and currently employee of the Nagasaki area, daily eater of donuts, occasional slacker, and smile creator. Instead, he was Tsuzuki Asato, Shinigami, Angel of Death, one who lived a despairing life and a bleak afterlife, who also had seen far too much to be a simple employee, a man who cared. And this Tsuzuki looked down at him, and reassured him with a smile.

“Keep going,” he said. Tatsumi couldn’t refuse. Perhaps the reverse was true and Tsuzuki was trying to distract him.

The cautious touch against clothed legs, lingering on the sensitive inner thigh as Tatsumi carefully felt his way to his goal. A man who was known to be quick and efficient in the office, it was the opposite when it came to the bedroom. Office. Office bedroom. The shadow master blinked to clear his thoughts, now kissing the firm belly of Tsuzuki as his hands undid the belt.

Tatsumi didn’t know how he could have ever fallen for a man like this, so fully that it was nearly painful. He wanted him, wanted to protect him, wanted to give his soul to him. He still does want him, but doesn’t believe they could go much further than physical copulation. Tsuzuki needed someone who didn’t only protect him from his demons, but also help him confront them.

“Tatsumiii,” Tsuzuki whined as the secretary grew slow again. His breathes were shallow and voice was a little strained. “Stop thinking so hard.”

“I’m sorry, Tsuzuki-san.”

The hips under his steady hold rose impatiently, and Tatsumi took this as an invitation to rub the growing bulge within the dark slacks. There was a hitch of breath, and he grew warm, tickling with his fingertips the curves in the fabric as gently as one would a piece of art. He fingered Tsuzuki over and over, flattered at how quickly the man fell into lustful pants, only pausing as he gripped the zipper. The final hesitation was blown away as Tsuzuki murmured a helpless little,

“Please?”

~*~*~

Tsuzuki’s plea unintentionally melted into a moan as Tatsumi released him from his cloth-bound confinement. It was difficult to keep himself in check as the man rolled the wet head under his thumb.

“Pardon me... for my conduct...” Tsuzuki leaned against the chair, trying not to fall over with his tiny bucks.

“It’s no problem... none at all...” Tatsumi said, placing a kiss there as well.

It felt so good to be held like this again, and be with his old partner. For want of something to do, Tsuzuki buried a hand in Tatsumi’s hair, fingering it as one would silk, and then holding it firm as the slick feel of a tongue brushed against him. The world was hazy with desire as Tatsumi found the indent under the tip of his head, licking little wrinkles into the sensitive skin. With his hands Tatsumi stroked Tsuzuki’s width.

“Aaah... keep going... that feels...!”

Tatsumi swallowed his length all of a sudden, and a whoosh of air left him. He was so hot, and the sensation of lips and tongue and throat working a symphony under the shadow master’s direction. Tatsumi was taking no time in this encounter, rapidly bringing Tsuzuki to crescendo. But Tsuzuki was oddly conflicted about that there would likely be a next time, another instance of this strange type of repeat affair. He... cared for him didn’t he? But also... Hisoka... Emotions ran high as well as hormones during this time, and the harder he tried to form coherent thoughts, the more those thoughts seemed to slip away as if devoured by passion, devoured and ate up the same way Tatsumi was eating him up like honey.

“I...” Tsuzuki swallowed, feeling the heat at the base of his belly spreading and jolting through him like electricity. His body was like a livewire, and he wanted so bad to be touched all over and to be able to touch Tatsumi as well. He settled for grabbing the secretary’s head and shoulder, thrusting over and over into that compliant and relentless mouth.

He cried as he came, the burning well of energy overflowing and relief swift on its heels. Tsuzuki arched nearly our of his seat and would have fallen if Tatsumi hadn’t slammed them both back firmly against the chair as Tsuzuki’s member softened. With a delicate pop of noise, Tatsumi released him, and leaned up to kiss parted lips. Tsuzuki balked at his own taste, this bittersweet cream, before gently lapping away the remnants of his orgasm from the man’s rosy mouth.

“Tatsumi, I...” he murmured before trailing off. He didn’t know what he was about to say, his mind going blank. So he buried his face against Tatsumi’s strong neck and inhaled the subtle smell of cologne and musk. Then he sniffled and suddenly wondered with a start if he might cry.

“Is there something wrong?” Tatsumi asked, holding the man as carefully one would an ember, and held like like his most precious possession.

“No, nothing at all,” Tsuzuki answered, confused, and blinked the dampness away.