Archive of Our Own

It was very easy to get completely lost in the tension of the moment and give in to the murderous desires running deep through the veins, thicker than blood and with just as severe consequences if drawn out.

As a member of the Yakuza, Kenshi Takahashi was used to such things. In fact, he'd just finished with a bit of a cat fight - some wannabe gangsters tried to jump him, a group of roughly ten. He hadn't stopped to count.

They'd pulled guns on him and demanded he hand over all his money, as well as get down on his knees to provide him with some extra ‘services’ to ‘please’ them. Who the hell did they think they were? To force him into this? Disgusting.

He wasn't going to let that slide so easily. Unsheathing the katana at his hip, he’d sliced through all offender's throats before they could react, so harshly that it had decapitated a couple of them. Heads with permanently surprised expressions had thunked onto the floor and rolled a short distance, mouths agape and eyes wide.

The ones who still had their brains wired to their spines had fallen to the floor, gasping for air and choking on their own blood as it splashed onto the street like a red river.

Kenshi sheathed his katana with a calm expression, blood seeping into his clothes and flecked across his face. He wiped a speck off his cheek, glancing down at it and then sucking it off his thumb.

They'd asked for it, really. Attacking a known and feared member of the Yakuza? Seriously? They must've had a death wish or some kind of a delusion that they were better than him. It was a ridiculous assumption they'd made, and had ultimately cost them their lives.

He stepped back, eyes sweeping over the scene before he turned on his heel and left behind the gory mess he'd made.

The sun was just now setting on the horizon, the sky morphing from orange to purple and then to black. He didn't care about his clothes stained with murder nor the fact that he was carrying a weapon in public.

The cops were familiar with him and they knew better than to arrest him - there would be a huge spike in crime from the Yakuza just to spite them, and he could very easily get the other inmates to riot.

It wasn't worth it. Not to them, anyway.

The stars twinkled in the night sky, the streets dimly lit by lamp posts. It was the very edge of the city so it was surprising just how empty it currently was; not that he minded. He preferred the peace, although being left alone with his thoughts was often dangerous.

Gradually more and more people could be found as Kenshi went deeper into the city, the crowds getting thicker with every step he took. He kept to the shadows to avoid being stared at, and for the most part it worked. The late time meant the only ones out right now were young adults and middle aged office workers getting drunk to forget their responsibilities.

It had been a long day and right now all he wanted to do was relax. But he couldn't. He had orders to go to one of the nightclubs the syndicate owned and ran, one of many, and beat the shit out of a bartender there for passing on information about Yakuza members’ private lives and their dealings to rival gangs and so-called vigilantes.

He didn't question his duty. Why should he? Besides, the punishment that came with disobedience wasn't something he wanted to experience. Again. The scars on his back from last time still twinged at the mere thought of it.

As he moved through the bustling mass of people in the city he pulled out a pack of seven stars cigarettes and stuck one between his lips, using a snake-patterned lighter to light it. Smoke trailed from the end, the paper burning with every inhale.

The luminescent sign detailing the club's name flashed brighter than the other shop lights around it, drawing in customers like a moth to flame.

It was mostly youngsters swarming around the entry doors, chatting far too loudly. Minors were being denied access unless they could offer bribe money or if they had good connections, while the powerful and famous were being prioritised in the queue.

Kenshi took a long drag on his cigarette before moving over to the front of the queue, cutting the line completely and going to walk past the bouncer - who was a big, beefy guy and quite intimidating to the average person.

The bouncer’s arm shot out to block his path, lips curling into a smirk as he thought for a moment that he'd be able to yell at someone for trying to just waltz in like that.

“Hey bucko-” he faltered when he met steely eyes narrowed into a scowl, an irate look embedded deep within those fierce pupils.

Only then did he realise who he was dealing with, his gaze darting between the sheathed blade, the visible tattoos, and the bloodstained clothes. He quickly withdrew his arm with a sheepish expression, practically withering away under that stare.

Kenshi didn't say a word as he pushed past him, moving into the deafeningly loud nightclub and getting swept up in the throng of people. The crowd was dense, multicoloured lights flashing and the smoke machines making the place foggy.

He moved silently through the mass of people, not apologising when he bumped shoulders and ignoring the annoyed glares he received.

He was searching for the bartender, the man he was supposed to be beating up. He got to the bar and leaned an arm against it, his other hand resting on the hilt of his katana.

“D'you know where Akira is?” He asked a barwoman, having to raise his voice to be heard over the blaring music. “I need to speak to him.”

The woman raised her eyebrows, glancing over her shoulder before replying to him. “Yeah, he's in the back changing out one of the barrels. Booze is running out.” She hesitated, an uncertain look crossing her face. “Why? Want me to fetch him?”

At Kenshi's nod, she sighed and turned away, disappearing into the back to fulfil the request made of her.

Kenshi glanced around, boredom settling deep in his bones and aching joints. Clubs weren't really his style - too loud, too many people, too much alcohol, too flashy… he was only here to do his duty as a member of the Yakuza.

A tall woman with mid-length black hair sat herself down on the chair next to him, flashing him a small smile - one that he didn't reciprocate. It was Suchin. An American guy was with her, looking Kenshi up and down with glistening eyes.

“Hey. Buy a girl a drink, huh?” She teased, shifting her seat closer to him. Again, she received no response. With a heavy sigh she looked away, pursing her lips and thinking on how to go about flirting with this tough gangster.

Kenshi did shoot her a brief glance. She was a pretty woman, young, around his age. But he wasn't going to give her the satisfaction of buying her a drink. They'd been friends for as long as he could remember, but he'd never been interested in her - not in that way, at least.

“Wait, don't tell me,” she started again, turning in her chair to face him fully. She took in his whole appearance with concentrated intensity and made a guess based on what she saw. “You’re gay?” It was a constant joke she liked to make without any real basis.

He scoffed, the first noise of acknowledgment he'd made towards Suchin since she'd sat next to him. “Seriously?” His eyes bore into hers, his forehead creasing. He paused before responding, his eyes straying to the American. “What's his name?”

Suchin cocked her head as she considered Kenshi before glancing at the American standing next to her, a knowing look in her eyes and a slight nod of her head. “Johnny, this is Kenshi. Kenshi, this is Johnny,” she introduced.

Kenshi lifted his head slightly to recognise this Johnny guy's presence, but otherwise didn't give him the time of day. His mind was distracted by the guy he needed to beat up who just hadn't shown his face thus far.

Johnny's gaze was a little different. Instead of one of disinterest, he seemed rather taken. He bit his lip as he looked Kenshi up and down like he was checking him out, his eyes lingering on the blood and the katana.

“Hey sexy, what the fuck happened to you?” He questioned, sipping on a martini through a plastic straw. Kenshi's eyebrows furrowed at the immaturity the sight exuded, huffing as he looked away.

“None of your business. I'd recommend you keep your nose out of it,” he warned in a low voice, tapping his fingers on the bar impatiently.

Johnny's eyes trailed to those tattooed hands, the ink disappearing under the sleeves to the fully-body markings, almost like visual identification of his part in the Yakuza. “Ooh, so you're a bad boy, huh?” He chuckled, leaning in further.

The cold look in Kenshi's eyes wasn't putting him off, but Suchin could easily recognise the warning signs. She hooked a finger over Johnny's shirt collar and yanked him back as though he were a misbehaving dog, giving him a stern look and whispering lecturing words in his ear.

Johnny shut up after that, although he seemed rather keen to keep up the one-sided conversation. If it wasn't for Suchin keeping him in line then he'd probably be receiving a beating right now. She knew Kenshi could handle him, keep him tethered at his hip and at his beck and call, but he didn't seem in the right mood at the moment.

Finally, the man Kenshi was looking for - Akira - walked out of the back, a cloth over one shoulder and stress lines etched deep into his face. He stopped dead in his tracks when he saw who his visitor was, all the colour draining from his face and his body going rigid when he realised what this was about.

“I- I, uh, um… l-look, man, it- I can explain,” he stammered, raising his hands defensively and trying to back away.

Johnny noticed the atmosphere suddenly thickening and looked around, about to comment on it when Kenshi suddenly stood up.

Without a word, Kenshi grabbed the bartender’s silver necklace and slammed his head into the bar, a sickening crack sounding loudly in the club. The music drowned out the noises of violence and borderline sadism occuring. His fingers threaded through the man's hair and gripped, yanking his head back before slamming it down again.

It all went quiet save the music pumping through the air, so loud you could feel it reverberating through your skull and down to the sensitive soles of your feet, drilling into your thoughts.

Johnny stared down at the now unconscious man pulled halfway over the bar, face planted into the polished wood and blood forming a pool around his face. His nose had been undoubtedly broken and he'd be concussed at the very least when he eventually came to.

Johnny had felt flecks hit his face. He blinked, wiping away some of the blood that had spattered onto his face, creating a red streak across his cheek. The attack had been violent and, to him, unwarranted.

Suchin stood up from her barstool and silently pushed the man off of the bar, his insensible body hitting the floor with a thud. Her face remained calm and mostly neutral despite what she was doing, completely unbothered by the bloody mess that had been created.

Taking a long sip through the straw in his martini glass, Johnny tried to pretend like nothing had happened. The innocent onlookers in the nightclub were staring at them with gaping mouths and shocked looks - their expressions were almost comical.

He noticed movement to his right and his eyes darted to the source, seeing Kenshi wipe his bloodstained hands down the front of his oddly formal clothes before reaching out to grab him.

He squawked as he was dragged off of the seat and through the nightclub, trying to make a grab for his martini. “Hey! I haven't even finished m-”

He was cut off when Kenshi’s hand forcefully covered his mouth to shut him up, his fingers pressing so hard into his skin it felt like they were going to leave a permanent mould.

Oh, Johnny wasn't having that. As he was hauled out of the double doors and into the cool night he pushed his tongue out, licking a stripe of wet, hot saliva onto Kenshi's palm.

Kenshi immediately pulled his hand away with a disgusted look, his lips curling downwards. “You little shit-” he hissed, grabbing Johnny by the throat instead and slamming him up against a shop's show window displaying mannequins wearing various forms of hideous clothing.

“What the hell is wrong with you?” He snarled, slowly squeezing the air out of Johnny's lungs and practically crushing his larynx. “You licked me? Seriously? That's so childish,” he lectured.

Despite currently being choked, Johnny rolled his eyes playfully and shrugged, holding up his hands in a mock gesture of surrender. “Childish? Says you, Tattoo. You're walking around with a fake sword and fake blood all over you, you mafia wannabe,” he mocked, his voice strained from the pressure on his throat. “You even went as far as assaulting some guy…”

Kenshi narrowed his eyes. “Christ, you cannot be this stupid,” he muttered, pulling away before noticing something. A certain twinkle in those blue eyes that told a whole different story to the words leaving Johnny's lips.

He paused. “You're riling me up on purpose.” It was a statement, not a question, and the way Johnny started to grin only confirmed those suspicions.

He pinched the bridge of his nose with frustration. “You are insufferable,” Kenshi sighed bitterly and grabbed him by the upper arm again, dragging him down the street once more. No one bothered to pay any attention to them, like they didn't care. It wasn't exactly a common sight but the citizens weren't about to confront a clearly dangerous, bloodied man with a katana.

“You love me really. Look at me, I'm just a big ol’ pile of sexy goodness,” Johnny said, letting his shoes scrape along the concrete sidewalk in his uncooperative attitude.

Kenshi didn't respond. He barely knew the guy, yet he was spouting shit like this? Unbelievable. “What? What was your name again? Joey?” He huffed out, neither his grip nor his stride faltering in the slightest.

Johnny rolled his eyes. “Ha ha, very funny,” he said, his tone dripping with sarcasm. He didn't struggle or attempt to free himself and was acting more like an active participant in… whatever this was.

Kenshi didn't even look back at him but he was a little surprised. He’d been expecting to take Johnny kicking or screaming to wherever they were off to right now.

“Fine. I'll just call you Joey then,” he said in a flat voice with mirthless eyes.

A frown crossed Johnny's face, realising that he wasn't joking. “No, no, god no! It's Johnny. Johnny Cage,” he said, and the pause he had after saying his name made it seem as though he was waiting for some form of recognition, admiration, or long-awaited respect.

But nothing. He was severely disappointed when Kenshi’s face remained blank as he pushed through a door covered in graffiti and into a dingy waiting room. There was a reception desk with someone working behind it, and they turned around when they heard the door creak shut.

Johnny didn't speak Japanese and couldn't read it either. Looking at the characters plastered over the walls advertising what this place sold, he had no idea where they were; he couldn't even guess based on the decorations, nor could he get a vague idea from the conversation the other two were having.

He noticed Kenshi exchanging a wad of yen notes and a handful of coins for a little silver key with a room number attached, giving the receptionist a subtle nod before grabbing Johnny's hand again and leading him up the squeaky stairs.

His curiosity made him compliant and he let himself be pulled up. It was a tight fit up the stairs and when they reached the top, a long corridor with doors locked shut down both walls made it seem like a hotel. However, the noises coming from these rooms was what gave him pause.

“What-”

“Shut up,” Kenshi sharply interrupted, taking him down the far end of the corridor and using the key to unlock one of the doors.

He shoved Johnny inside and followed behind, turning the key in the lock to trap them in here. The room itself wasn't exactly small but it wasn't a luxury suite either, and there was the faint smell of tobacco lingering in the air.

A bed had been squished into the corner with a cheap, scratched nightstand holding a lamp, the only source of light - there were no windows. Johnny's eyes caught onto a small stack of porno magazines sitting atop the surface, along with a couple of condoms still in their wrapper.

A sudden realisation swept over him. “Hey, Tattoo, are we in a fucking love hotel?”

Kenshi didn't reply straight away and perched on the edge of the bed which groaned under his weight. “Tattoo? My name's Kenshi Takahashi,” he corrected, avoiding the question.

Johnny scoffed and crossed his arms. “Answer the goddamn question, Tattoo. Why'd you take me here? Huh?” He sounded annoyed but there was an undercurrent of excitement and anticipation in him that the average person wouldn't be able to notice. He was an actor, it was easy to hide those sorts of things.

Kenshi noticed it though. He could read him so easily.

“Relax, Cage. I didn't come here with those intentions. It's the closest, cheapest place that offers the most privacy,” he explained, leaning back and unbuckling his belt so he could slip his katana sheath off and sit more comfortably.

“I dragged you to this godforsaken place to let you know that if you start yapping on about what you saw back there - to the cops, your friends, family, just random people - you'll find yourself six feet under a concrete bridge somewhere,” he warned in a low, threatening tone.

Johnny took the threat in stride, it seemed. “But-”

Kenshi held a hand up to silence him. "Be quiet. I don't care what it is, whoever you decide to rat to will get the same treatment. And don't go bragging about how I won't be able to know if you've grassed or not-” putting his elbows on his knees he leaned forwards, “-because I will know. You can bet your sorry life on it.”

Johnny had no idea how to respond to that. He was in some dingy love hotel with a member of the Yakuza who was threatening him and his friends and family. He stayed quiet for the longest time before turning his back to Kenshi.

“Right, okay. Well, I'm pretty busy - a sexy guy like me has a lot of ladies on his plate and a load of pictures to take. Don't get jealous now, it wouldn't be a good look on you,” he said, waving a dismissive hand over his shoulder and reaching out to grab the doorknob.

He was expecting to be stopped but found no resistance coming from Kenshi. That was… odd. He'd anticipated a beating as a little taste of the potential consequences, or even for speaking to him so boldly.

But nothing.

He grasped the doorknob and twisted, yanking it at the same time and-

It didn't open. That's when he remembered Kenshi locking it behind him after they'd entered the room. Shit. Fuck. He was stuck in here and the only way out was in a goddamn blood-covered Yakuza's pants pocket…

“Uhh. Hey, Tattoo, the door appears to be, um… locked. Mind handing over the key?”

His request was met with silence, a running theme with Kenshi.

He glanced over at him and saw that Kenshi was still sitting on the bed, his katana on the sheets behind him and a rather unbothered expression on his face. Kenshi's eyes strayed down his body, making him shiver.

“You speak as though you're famous around here,” he started, “yet I don't recognise you. Are you from the red light district or something?” He asked casually.

Johnny didn't know whether to be offended or not. “What? No, I'm fucking not. I'm-”

Once again he was interrupted. “Why else would Suchin bring you to the club with her? It belongs to the Yakuza. If you squint hard enough you'll realise it's a whorehouse,” he said coolly, standing up and moving closer.

Johnny stood his ground. He knew martial arts too, he felt he could easily take this guy in a fight despite the katana his opponent wielded. The weapon was out of reach; he needn't care about it.

“Okay, so? Just because I was there doesn't make me an active participant,” he retorted.

“I saw the way you were looking at me.”Another step closer. Too close.

Johnny swallowed thickly. “I didn't look at you in any w-”

Kenshi's hand shot out and grabbed Johnny's chin, tilting his head back to expose his throat. He pressed two fingers to the side of his neck as though he were checking his carotid pulse.

“Yes, you did. I'm not stupid, nor am I an oblivious virgin,” he muttered, his other hand wrapping around Johnny's wrist to keep him in place. “You were sucking that straw while staring at me so intensely. You're not subtle, y'know, it was obvious you were thinking of having my dick in your mouth instead.”

Johnny simply rolled his eyes and forced back the feeling of heat rising in his cheeks. He tried to pull away, but the grip was far too strong for him to easily escape from without creating a huge, annoying fuss.

But he was the Johnny Cage, and creating a huge, annoying fuss was his forte. His hobby, even. His middle name. He liked the drama, he liked the publicity, he liked being in the spotlight.

“Psh, as if I'd want to have your shrivelled prune of a dick down my throat,” he snorted, yanking his arm back hard to slip out of the tight grasp around him.

Kenshi scowled and snatched hold of Johnny again, this time grabbing him by the back of his neck and roughly shoving him up against the wall, squeezing his neck harshly.

Johnny gasped, the weight forcing the air out of his lungs. He tried to grab onto the wall and push himself away at the same time in a poor attempt to get out of the pin.

“So you think I have, and I quote, a shrivelled prune of a dick?” Kenshi hissed into his ear as he leaned over him, planting one hand on the hard wall next to the actor's head.

Johnny grinned. The position was perfect and exactly what he'd been attempting to push since he'd first laid eyes on Kenshi.

“You saying you don't? Prove it, show me,” he said playfully, teasingly wiggling his ass as if it would tempt him into taking the offer. And indeed, Kenshi did feel more inclined by the enticing sight that had been presented to him, like an offer for free food at a Michelin star restaurant. Who was he to decline?

“Fine,” he huffed out, pulling away from Johnny and sitting himself on the edge of the bed once more. “You'll have to work for it though, Cage. You've been a real piece of work in the short time I've known you.”

Johnny practically shivered with anticipation. Being called Cage, especially with that take-no-shit tone and that stern stare piercing through him so hard he could physically feel it.

“Oh, I know, doll. I wouldn't expect something like this to be free of charge,” he chuckled, slowly sinking to his knees, letting his eyes roam down to the growing bulge making itself known between Kenshi's legs.

Johnny crawled over to him on his hands and knees like a dog, settling between his legs and putting his hands on the swordsman's thighs. His palms rubbed along the rough fabric of his pants, moving up closer to his groin but never quite touching it, teasing with every movement.

As his fingers trailed up to the button of his pants he looked up. Kenshi - manspreading with one elbow leaning on his knee, his cheek propped up on his fist - had a firmly bored expression on his face, one that lacked amusement or any sign of encouragement save the slightly furrowed eyebrows.

He noticed Johnny's miniscule pause. “Keep going,” he said, his voice low and controlled; the only motivation he'd given so far regarding this.

Johnny bit on the inside of his cheek and unbuttoned Kenshi's pants, tugging the zipper down and easing the fabric down to his thighs, lower, down his legs and sliding them off completely.

His eyes were locked onto the thin material of his boxers now. The outline of Kenshi's half-hard dick under the material was driving him crazy and it was all he could do to not climb up and ride him senseless.

Holding his breath, he pulled down those black boxers and dropped them to Kenshi's feet, his eyes sparkling as they landed on that impressive cock. It wasn't even properly hard yet and he was already drooling over how goddamn delicious it looked - a mouthful indeed.

He reached out, loosely wrapping his hand around the base as he leaned his head in further, letting his breath ghost over the head like a puff of hot air.

Johnny’s desire was carnal and animalistic, urging and inciting him to take until he couldn't. Until his endless thirst was quenched and satiated, enough to last him a while.

He stroked his hand up and down the dick, his arousal heightening as he felt it grow and stiffen in his grasp. Just as he parted his lips to take it in his mouth, though, Kenshi stopped him with a hand on his wrist.

“I have one condition,” he said, bending slightly at the waist to bring himself closer. He reached down and grabbed his discarded pants from the floor, rummaging through the pockets and procuring a small, clear plastic baggie.

He opened it up and with his free hand held his dick so it wasn't at an angle, carefully shaking some of the powdery contents of the baggie out into a line on his cock.

“Do you know how to take snow?” He asked so casually like it was something everyone had experience in, placing the plastic down next to him on the bed.

Johnny realised instantly what it was. He swallowed, his Adam's apple bobbing in his throat and his pupils dilating massively. “Oh, do I,” he replied breathily, somehow more eager now if that was possible.

“God, Kendoll, you've got me doing crazy shit just for a taste of you,” he groaned softly, looking up into Kenshi's eyes with a mixture of neediness and desire. “Got some paper?”

Kenshi glanced around and reached into the top nightstand drawer, rummaging around. From inside he extracted a Holy Bible, the New Testament. Opening it up at random he tore out a page and handed it to Johnny. The pages were characteristically thin for a Bible but it would work.

Johnny grinned and took it, rolling it into the shape of a straw. Sticking one end up his nose, he leaned in and snorted the line of coke off Kenshi's cock, going from base to tip.

He pulled the paper from his nose and sniffed, his pupils blowing out and his heart rate getting faster; he could feel the tattoo of the beat thumping quicker in his chest.

“Fuck that feels good,” he breathed out, tilting his head back and closing his eyes to bask in the boosted confidence - not that he needed anymore - and the way his body felt lighter, yet also feeling like multiple different states of matter, simultaneously a liquid and a solid.

Kenshi didn't let him have his moment of joy though. Grabbing his hair, he pushed Johnny's head down into his lap and forced his cock all the way down his throat until he was buried in that wet heat to the hilt, ignoring the gagging and the little pushes of protest on his thighs.

Saliva bubbled in the corners of Johnny's mouth from being shoved down so harshly - not that he minded. He could feel the shape of Kenshi's cock carving a path down his throat, the shape moulding itself in his flesh.

“Don't be such a prissy brat and start sucking already,” Kenshi ordered, keeping one hand firmly on the back of Johnny's head while the other wandered across the sheets, finding that little plastic baggie of drugs once more.

Johnny inhaled through his nose deeply and squeezed his eyes shut, trying to keep the tears at bay. It was rough and it was painful, but god was it making him hornier than he'd ever like to admit.

He let his tongue trace along the underside of Kenshi's cock, swallowing the built-up spit before he started sucking, hollowing his cheeks and slowly bobbing his head up and down.

He couldn't believe he was sucking off a guy in the fucking Yakuza, of all things to be a member was. He wasn't one to leave his food untouched though, even if he'd never had it before. And this new, deadly food was quickly becoming one of his favourites.

He held onto the base as his mouth worked its way to the head, his tongue swirling around it and licking at the tip, hungry for what was to come out of it.

Kenshi watched on, a tight grip in Johnny's hair to keep his sucking and bobbing at a pace he liked, which happened to be a rather unforgiving one.

Fingers fiddling with the baggie, he finally let go of that brown hair and tipped a small quantity of the cocaine onto the side of his hand, just under where his thumb was. Pushing his hand to his nose, he snorted the powder and made a noise halfway between a groan and a grunt, tilting his head back to stare up at the ceiling.

Johnny was looking up at him with naught but wanton written all over his pathetic, needy face, his lips parted with the cock between them, sliding in and out, in and out. Every suck was a suck closer to that heavenly, salty fluid he wanted to drink up.

His tongue traced a vein, taking it further down his throat until his nose was pressed into Kenshi's pelvis, practically breathing in the pubic hairs. He could feel the tip hit the back of his throat and it made him shiver, his fingers tightening around the swordsman's thighs.

Kenshi let out a heady moan and tilted his head back, staring up at the ceiling with half-lidded eyes and parted lips - this was some pretty good head, it was definitely up there in terms of the oral he'd experienced.

He tugged on Johnny's hair again, pulling him back and making him bob his head up and down on his cock, a thick coating of saliva shining on his skin and highlighting those bulging veins.

His grip loosened ever so slightly and Johnny seized the opportunity, slipping the dick out of his mouth and admiring the sight of the head swelling, glistening with spittle. It was an angry red colour, wanting so desperately to just let go and unload. Pre-cum dribbled from the tip and Johnny couldn't stop himself anymore.

His tongue darted out and dragged up along the tip, collecting and swallowing all the pre-cum he could. He licked into the hole as much as possible, thirsting to taste the liquid, determined to suck Kenshi dry.

He swallowed him whole again, throat constricting around the throbbing length as he hollowed his cheeks and sucked. A moan escaped him, reverberating around the cock that sat heavily on his tongue.

Kenshi's hips thrust forward, both hands grabbing onto Johnny's head now at the pleasure that was flooding him and filling him up. His teeth were gritted and his fingers tightened in the actor's hair, his pulling and tugging growing in harshness as his breath grew erratic, practically panting. Johnny was moaning, that noise on his cock pushing him ever closer to the edge of paradise.

One of Johnny's hands left the tense thighs he was clutching and cupped Kenshi's balls, rolling them between his fingers and playing with them while his sucking became more needy and urgent, pushing him towards an orgasm.

One particularly sweet swipe of Johnny's tongue over the underside of his cock forced him over the edge. With a heavy huff he came into Johnny's mouth, painting his throat white as his hips stuttered and huffs of pleasure were drawn out of him.

Johnny, of course, lapped it up like it was water essential to his survival. He swallowed as much of it as he could, some of the cum trickling down his chin as Kenshi's softening dick slipped out of his mouth.

Kenshi panted, letting go of Johnny's hair and just staring down at him, sweat beaded on his face flushed with that wave of intense pleasure.

Johnny's hand slipped beneath the waistband of his pants, wrapping around his leaking cock and pumping his hand up and down as much as he could in the tight confines of his clothes. He was chasing his own high, his fingers stroking faster to get him to nirvana.

The sudden scraping noise and the shing of metal brought him back down to earth. A sharpness pressed lightly yet with clear threat against his throat, a warning in just the way it shimmered. A bloodstained katana.

His hand faltered in his pants and he looked up at the one who wielded it. Kenshi's expression didn't give away any of his emotions, but there was a certain coldness that seeped through in his eyes.

“When did I say you could touch yourself?” He pressed the blade a little harder into the skin of Johnny's throat, not enough to cut but enough to send the message.

A shiver ran up Johnny's spine and he reluctantly slid his hand out, slick with pre. His breathing was heavy, his body trembling for a release.

Kenshi cupped Johnny's cheek and let his thumb rub the corner of his mouth, wiping up the remaining cum that hadn't yet been swallowed. He then pulled back and stuck that thumb in his mouth, tasting himself.

He was already hard again, something Johnny found impressive. A man so ready for a second round? It made his skin tingle. For a second he thought Kenshi would be happy with just his own release, but it was becoming clear that he wanted to play with Johnny, to break him at least a little bit into a writhing, begging mess.

“Stand up,” he ordered, letting go and moving himself to sit towards the end of the bed. Johnny quickly obliged and got up, putting his hands on the bed and hesitating like he was waiting for permission. Upon hearing the dead silence he decided to just climb on anyway.

He'd barely settled down when Kenshi was grabbing him and manhandling him onto his stomach, pressing him flush against the soft sheets and holding him down with his muscular weight.

“You're a slut. Hear me?” He muttered, taking hold of the collar of Johnny's shirt and tearing the fabric down the middle with such effortlessness it made the actor's cock twitch and ooze and in his pants.

“Nah, I can't actually. Say it again,” he said playfully, staying prone. Cold air hit his now bare back and he felt even colder metal touch the back of his neck and trace down the ridge of his spine until it reached the curve of his ass, the blade resting there for a few moments before being removed.

“Don't be a smartass,” Kenshi said in a warning tone, sheathing his katana and tossing it to the floor with a resounding thump.

Before much more could be said a new sound filled the air. The bed creaked, a slight rustle, and then the distinct noise of a gun being cocked.

Johnny's head whipped around to see if his ears were playing tricks on him but didn't get that far, the barrel of a handgun suddenly knocking hard into the back of his head. It worked in ceasing all movements from him.

“Oi, Kenny… fuck are you doing?” He asked calmly, slowly raising his hands.

“That's not my name,” Kenshi reiterated with an irritated sigh. “It's Kenshi.” He tore a strip off Johnny's already destroyed shirt, taking the opportunity to swiftly bind it around his wrists and then knot it to the headboard.

Johnny frowned, giving a light tug. The fabric tightened around his skin and made him wince, so he didn't try it again.

“Huh. Didn't know you were into kinky stuff like that,” he joked, acting like it was all okay. Even when that gun moved away from his head to tap his inner thigh. He couldn't see it but Kenshi rolled his eyes.

“I have a gun less than three inches from your dick and a sword drenched with murder that I threatened you with, yet you think the restraints are the kinky part?” He scoffed and actually brushed the barrel against Johnny’s cock to show him just how close it really was.

“Yeah, as if I believe it’s loaded, I bet the safety’s on-”

Kenshi pointed the firearm at the ceiling and pulled the trigger, sending a bullet straight into the ceiling with a deafening bang. Johnny flinched, glancing up to see- yup- a hole in the ceiling, wood splintered and dust and fine specks of rubble floating down.

“You still believe that?” Kenshi asked, holding the pistol to Johnny's back. “I am going to wreck you, Cage,” he warned in a low, sultry voice that made Johnny want to arch and cum prematurely. He wouldn't be able to last at this point.

He bit his lip, burying his head into the pillows in front of him and deciding it was likely in his best interest to hold his tongue.

A wet, slippery sensation on his ass made him tense up though, but he still couldn't look back. His arms, hanging above him and attached to the headboard, made it rather difficult to move or turn - they were doing their job well.

He'd been fucked enough times to know it was lube. “Kenshi-”

He was cut off by something hard and solid being eased into his taut hole now slick with lube. The shape and feel of it was like…

“Holy shit, Kenshi, be careful - if that thing goes off…” he said, his fingers catching in the sheets and clutching tightly for some sanity. “You're fucking insane.”

Kenshi was easing the muzzle of the handgun into Johnny's ass, one finger on the trigger despite knowing it was loaded and the safety wasn't on. Obviously the barrel wasn't as long as his own cock, but the mere implications of it made him shove it in harsher.

Johnny clenched his teeth, practically panting. It put him on edge, having an active weapon inside his body. It made him hornier, his body sweating as it slid out to the muzzle and fucked back inside him, as deep as the barrel length would allow.

“Kenshi…” he groaned, his body shivering at the sweet sensations aching throughout his body.

Kenshi's free hand held Johnny's hips still. “Stop squirming or I'll accidentally fire,” he muttered, leaning over his twitching body and thrusting the gun inside harder and faster. One wrong move, one malfunction, and Johnny would be dead. He knew this and the danger of it appealed to him.

Johnny moaned, his back arching. He was being fucked with a gun, his hole completely unprepared. It was painful and he was sure he'd bleed, but there wasn't much he could do.

Kenshi propped himself up over his body and kissed the nape of his neck, his tongue sliding out as the touch of his lips turned into sucking of the skin, leaving behind a purple bruise. He peppered little hickeys along the back of Johnny's neck and the strokes of the gun inside him sped up.

He suddenly pulled it out, earning a disappointed whine from the actor swearing beneath him. Johnny had no time to complain as the muzzle was shoved into his mouth instead.

He let out a muffled moan, able to taste himself on the firearm. He could just about hear Kenshi ordering him to suck, so he did, wrapping his tongue around the barrel and sucking it like it was a thick cock.

He closed his eyes as he licked into the muzzle, the taste of himself and of metal tang blooming on his tongue. Kenshi pushed the handgun further down his throat, wanting to hear him gag and choke on the weapon.

Johnny's eyes rolled back in their sockets, his breaths coming out as heavy huffs. His cock trapped between his stomach and the mattress throbbed eagerly, leaking and smearing his pre-cum on his skin and the sheets.

“You can do better than that,” Kenshi muttered, not easing up. His finger hovered dangerously close to the trigger, throat fucking Johnny.

Johnny took as much down his throat as he could, even if it made him gag and had tears forming in his eyes. “Mmm…”

Kenshi's free hand wrapped around him to squeeze his throat, wanting to feel the shape of the gun through the skin. But he couldn't. He was too far gone with his lust to be rational over this and thus his hand constricted, restricting Johnny's breathing and making him gasp out.

“Look at you, high on coke and sucking off a gun. You're nothing but a dirty whore,” he mocked, watching the sight with gleaming eyes.

“Ken- hah! Kenshi!” Johnny moaned out whorishly. What was being done to him was more than enough to send him over the edge. Despite no real stimulation to his body he came untouched, his body tensing up and shaking, his eyes fluttering shut. Cum spurted out, rope after thick rope soiling the bedding and his own sweaty skin. He rode out his high by grinding and rubbing his cock on the mattress, tugging his arms and straining the fabric holding him down.

Kenshi withdrew the gun and set it aside, shifting behind Johnny. The bed creaked as he got off, a few clanking noises that Johnny was too breathless to care about sounding out.

A weight pressed hard onto his back and made him shiver, opening his eyes and struggling against his bindings to have a look. He felt a hot breath on the back of his neck and a cold hand tracing up the side of his body.

Kenshi had retrieved the katana from the floor, now unsheathing it once more and straddling Johnny's hips. His silence was almost taunting, staying motionless for just enough time to have the actor squirming and begging for more.

“Stay still.” He slid down Johnny's body, inching down, his nails lightly scratching skin as he went until finally he settled between Johnny's legs.

He looked up to see him quivering, the muscles in his back tensed and gleaming with sweat. Kenshi said nothing and looked down at his ass, his hands rubbing Johnny's cheeks and spreading them.

Without any warning he pressed his mouth to the hole and slid his tongue inside, his fingers tightening on his ass to keep his body still as Johnny gasped and jerked his hips.

“Ah! Kenshi, please, too much!” He begged, his senses overstimulated. He'd orgasmed mere seconds ago and now his ass was being eaten out. It made his toes curl and his mind go foggy.

Kenshi, however, didn't stop. His tongue probed deeper and swirled around, his teeth nipping at the exterior of Johnny's ass as the actor twitched and pleaded with him. Overstimulation hadn't been on his list of kinks before, but now was a different story. Johnny didn't expect himself to like it so much.

He tried to buck his hips back but the firm grip prevented him from controlling the pace or getting the level of friction he wanted. Low groans were being pulled from the depths of his desires and forced into the open for his conscience to feel shame over.

Kenshi bit at his skin again, sucking lightly and licking his tongue in as far as he could reach. His hands kneaded Johnny's ass as he worked him open, the taste of lube and arousal working him up even more.

His hand slipped down, a finger hooking around the tight hole and slipping inside next to his tongue. A second finger soon followed. It was a tight fit and the stimulation had Johnny seeing stars, and he felt so close to the edge yet again, so soon after his last climax.

“Kenshi, I- I'm close,” he said breathlessly, holding onto the bedsheets for dear life. “Please, so close, fuck- don't stop, oh my god don't stop,” he begged, tilting his head back.

He was about to cum for the second time, his orgasm a mere pump of the fingers away, just the slightest push would send him toppling over the edge and crumbling under that hot mouth. Just as he could taste it on the tip of his tongue… Kenshi pulled away with a soft pop.

Johnny whined, the loss of his orgasm hitting him hard. “Kenshi, why'd you do that? Fuck- please-”

Kenshi was impatient by this point. He loved hearing Johnny beg but dear god was he getting a headache. The mixture of cocaine streaming through his blood egged him on, and in his careless state he grabbed his katana while his other hand went to Johnny's head, fingers tangling in his hair and roughly pulling his head back to expose the vulnerable skin on his throat.

“You're so annoying,” he huffed out and pressed the blade against Johnny’s throat, the sharp end digging in more than it had the last time. “I'll make you cum, alright? Just shut up and let me do my thing.”

Johnny groaned. As he swallowed his Adam's apple bobbed, putting the slightest more amount of pressure on the sword. A very thin, fine trickle of blood trickled from the shallow wound.

Kenshi couldn't help himself anymore. He'd waited too long. He sat up and, holding the base of his hard cock with his free hand, guided the head to Johnny's stretched hole and shoved all the way in with a single smooth thrust.

Johnny keened, his back arching. “Fuck you're so big,” he breathed out, his jaw slack as Kenshi started to thrust. He didn't pause to let Johnny's body adjust to the invasion inside him, nor did he start off slow and build up his pace. He went straight to pounding.

He pulled most of the way out until just the head remained and slammed back in again, driving into him hard and fast. The slap of his pelvis against Johnny’s ass was loud, but considering where they were, that was to be expected.

“I thought I told you to shut up,” Kenshi muttered, letting go of Johnny's hair so he could prop himself up with his hand. He fucked into him mercilessly, every drag of cock inside Johnny's ass making him arch. It was so relentless and unforgiving that tears sprung to his eyes again and simple moans couldn't express just how much pleasure was thrumming through his body anymore.

“You've gotta make me, doll,” he murmured despite the sharp katana against his throat and still digging into the shallow cut, causing it to sting and get irritated.

Kenshi huffed and decided to ignore him, rolling his hips and grinding into him harshly. It would've been easier to rail him and hold him at knifepoint if Johnny was on his back instead, but he preferred it like this. Johnny being fucked on his stomach felt more dominating, more controlling, because he couldn't see Kenshi's face or wrap his legs around him to keep him close. Kenshi had complete authority over everything happening.

Because of his denied orgasm and his sensitive body, Johnny was already close. Of course he was. He couldn't seem to last long, especially not with this Yakuza pounding him six ways to Sunday.

“Please, more, please,” he pleaded and bit down hard on the soft sheets, practically salivating on them and gritting his teeth on them.

Kenshi was lost to his own world. He could feel a coil of heat building up in his gut and knew he wouldn't be able to last long either. He wanted to humiliate Johnny at least a little more though, make him finish early again and then taunt him for it.

He reached under the actor's quivering, sweating body and wrapped a fist tightly around his aching cock, starting to pump it up and down in time with every snap of his hips.

“Ohhh god oh shit,” Johnny moaned, unable to keep his orgasm at bay any longer. He came again, even more cum spurting onto the sheets and smearing along his stomach, dripping onto Kenshi's hand.

He was a whimpering, withering mess, his body jolting as Kenshi kept screwing him so hard he could feel it in the tips of his toes and the ends of his fingers.

“Such a whore,” Kenshi snarled into his ear. He thrust harder and didn't stop jerking him off, refusing him any amount of leeway and forcing him into an overstimulated mess.

Johnny choked out a sob but fuck was he enjoying it. Being manhandled and used like a toy was his number one fantasy. It felt like Kenshi could read his mind and just telepathically knew each and every single one of his kinks, exploiting them for his own benefit.

He felt Kenshi's hips stutter and a warmth spread into his ass, and immediately knew that Kenshi had came inside him. “Fucking finally…” he groaned, dropping his head onto the sheets again, letting his body relax.

He winced from sensitivity as Kenshi pulled out, his cock softening. He dipped a finger into Johnny's hole, pulling back with a splodge of his own cum.

He reached around Johnny's front and shoved his finger into his mouth, making Johnny lick up and swallow his cum. Johnny was rather eager about it despite being entirely fucked out and fatigued, swirling his tongue around and lapping it up.

Afterwards they sat in silence for several long minutes, catching their breath and settling down after whatever the hell had just happened. It felt like more than a simple fuck session, really. More than a mere hookup, especially when considering just how intense it had been. Johnny had his life threatened multiple times that night and had enjoyed it. This wasn't a little fling.

Johnny was brought back to his senses when the bed groaned, noticing Kenshi getting up. He said nothing, watching the swordsman pick up his pants and rummage through the pockets before pulling out a large wodge of cash.

“Here. For your services, little lady,” he said, tossing the cash over to him and sitting down on the side of the bed.

Johnny caught it and snorted. “What? Paying me like I'm some sort of prostitute? Fuck off,” he scoffed, but slipped the money under the covers to keep it to himself.

Kenshi snickered at that and got into bed again, pressing a long, passionate kiss to his lips. It was amusing, really, because after all that… this was their first kiss of the night.

“Hm. Your kissing skills are just as good as your skills with your cock,” Johnny teased against his mouth, nipping on his bottom lip.

Kenshi wrapped an arm around his waist. “Uh huh,” he sighed, closing his eyes and letting his face rest in the crook of Johnny's neck.

Affection would be a loose term to describe what was going on. It wasn't entirely untrue but it was a bit of a reach, too. They didn't love each other, but there was a casual fondness between them. And that fondness made itself apparent as the two of them drifted off into sleep, worn out and sweaty, not even bothering with a shower.

Smelling was the least of their worries. For now they would rest and deal with whatever shitshow this would awaken tomorrow. They were comfortable in each other’s arms, and Kenshi was able to ignore Johnny's soft snores and get to sleep.