A Way to Convince Me to Stay

Yuma hadn’t intended to crash at Makoto’s. He’d meant to visit for the evening, to fumble at the edges of the bond that lay between them, and to close the door on it, returning to the hotel he’d booked himself into.

Except that Makoto was so interested in all Yuma’s journeys – the mysteries he’d chased down and exposed, in whatever splendid or sordid form they took – and it was very easy for him to keep Yuma’s glass topped up and to lead him into more stories, so that Yuma scarcely noticed the passing time. Until it grew too late to ignore.

‘That’s your fifth yawn in two minutes,’ Makoto said. ‘Perhaps we should call it a night?’

‘Oh,’ Yuma said. ‘Sure. You have to get up in the morning.’

‘Only if I want to,’ Makoto said. ‘There’s no reason we couldn’t spend the day together instead. Or would you like to come to work with me?’

It was hard to think Makoto was serious, but he did keep a straight face.

‘I think,’ Yuma said, ‘once was enough there.’

‘Really? Things are very different now.’

‘I know,’ Yuma said, as if Makoto needed reassurance from him. ‘Anyway, I promised Kurumi we would get lunch.’

‘Of course,’ Makoto said. ‘I won’t stand in your way.’

‘Why would you stand in my way?’

‘I wonder,’ Makoto said, cocking his head. Yuma found himself following the straight fall of his hair. ‘Do you want the bed or the couch?’

‘What?’

‘Or we could sleep together,’ Makoto said. ‘I’m not bothered either way.’

‘S-Sleep –’ Yuma couldn’t repeat the word together, however innocently Makoto meant it. ‘That’s not necessary. I should head back to the hotel.’

‘You didn’t need to book a hotel,’ Makoto said. ‘If you didn’t want to stay with me, I would have found you an apartment.’

‘It wouldn’t be right to impose.’ In truth, it hadn’t occurred to Yuma to even ask.

Makoto’s eyes crinkled, like Yuma had reminded him of something. Sometimes it was more disconcerting to see Makoto’s bare face than it had been to have it covered. To see his emotions so readily. The part where it was Yuma’s own face he’d almost gotten used to.

‘It’s late,’ Makoto said. ‘Even now, I can’t say that Kanai Ward is free from crime ...’

‘I don’t think I’m going to get mugged on the way to the hotel.’

But the idea of staying was tempting. Yuma’s body was heavy with the wine they’d drunk and with the hour. He found himself saying, ‘It is raining.’

‘It’s always raining.’

‘Maybe I will stay.’

He had the feeling it was the sort of concession someone would make fun of him for. What had Chief Yakou said? He shouldn’t let some sweet-tongued stranger lead him astray?

Well, he had done that. Chief Yakou had been right. But even now, Yuma couldn’t blame himself for wanting to trust Makoto. He didn’t think his judgement had been so poor, in the end.

‘So, bed?’ Makoto said. ‘Or are you too tired to move?’

‘Bed is good,’ Yuma said.

---

It had been a while, since Yuma had shared space with anyone. He and Makoto elbowed their way around each other in the bathroom – Makoto, who was the same height as him in his pyjamas – and even something so mundane as that felt strange. Makoto had a spare toothbrush ready for him, and Yuma had the feeling like maybe he’d bought it for just this occasion. Maybe he’d bought it the very first time he’d met Yuma, when he’d dragged him out the river and spirited him away. A saviour and a demon both.

And who was he now? A young guy brushing his teeth and spitting into the sink: ordinary.

Not ordinary.

Makoto would never be ordinary.

---

Yuma could still have changed his mind and said he’d sleep on the couch, but instead he crawled into bed beside Makoto. There was something anticipatory at the base of his stomach; the sleepiness he’d felt earlier had left him.

Makoto turned on his side to face him. He’d put out most of the lights but left the ones by the bed on; he wasn’t ready to sleep yet either.

‘I didn’t think,’ he said, ‘that you’d come back here.’

Yuma hadn’t been sure himself that he ever would. Certainly not to this room, to the bed of a man who’d done such abominable things in the name of keeping the people here safe. They might have forgiven Makoto, but Yuma knew that he shouldn’t.

It hadn’t stopped him from accepting Makoto’s invitation. There were a lot of things it wouldn’t stop him from doing, should they be offered. Which they wouldn’t be.

‘I didn’t think you’d want me to come back,’ Yuma said. He was afraid it sounded petulant.

‘You thought, Makoto can take Kanai Ward, and I’ll have the whole rest of the world?’

‘No!’

Yuma protested automatically, but then he wondered if that wasn’t what he’d thought. Like the two of them couldn’t exist in the same space. Or if to let Makoto be his own person, they had to exist separately.

Except that thought suggested it was Yuma who had the upper hand between them, and that wasn’t true.

‘Or,’ Makoto went on, ‘once you’d pulled our mysteries kicking and screaming into the light, did you find there was nothing to keep you here any more?’

Makoto had always wrong-footed him. But now, he was trying to avoid the point.

‘Makoto,’ Yuma said, ‘did you want me to stay?’

Makoto didn’t answer.

Yuma rolled onto his side so that the two of them were facing each other in the soft light. And Makoto admitted, ‘I don’t know.’

Yuma’s chest felt hot. ‘That doesn’t seem likely.’

‘I don’t know everything, Yuma.’

They used each other’s names, as if that would set a boundary between them. Because boundaries became ambiguous in the dark. Yuma’s boundaries became ambiguous, around Makoto.

‘I wish you did,’ Yuma said, and ducked his face, afraid he must be blushing.

‘Want you to stay?’

Now Yuma was the one who didn’t answer. Makoto shifted his position, leaning in slightly. He lifted Yuma’s chin with one hand, then tucked his hair back from his face. His hand lingered fondly against the shell of Yuma’s ear.

‘Maybe I didn’t then,’ Makoto said. ‘And maybe I do now.’

Yuma didn’t speak. He nodded, Makoto’s hand still on his hair. It was awful, how much Yuma liked being touched by him. There should have been something incestuous about it, shouldn’t there? Makoto was made in his image.

But Yuma was the one who wanted to be ruled over.

‘They don’t need me here,’ Yuma said, ‘if they have you.’

‘People need detectives,’ Makoto said, a lilting rhythm to his voice. He lifted his hand but didn’t take it altogether away. ‘Or are you dividing the world between us?’

‘That’s not what I meant,’ Yuma said. But what Makoto was saying wasn’t what Makoto meant either. ‘I didn’t think I had a reason to stay any more. And I wanted to travel.’

Makoto’s hand still hovered over his cheek. ‘What about Kurumi?’

Yuma could have cringed. ‘She thinks I’m something I’m not.’

‘So?’

‘That’s not what I want.’

‘Would it be so bad?’ Makoto turned onto his back, let his hand drop to his own chest. ‘You could be the person she thinks you are. It wouldn’t be that far a stretch.’

Yuma propped himself up on his elbow, to see Makoto the better. ‘It’s not what I want.’

Makoto’s eyes flicked up to his.

‘Why did I invite you here?’ Makoto asked.

‘To your apartment?’

‘To my bed.’

Again, Yuma felt his face heat. ‘Maybe you thought this was the best way to convince me to stay.’

Makoto laughed. ‘Is that what I’m doing?’

‘I … think so.’ Yuma laid his hand down over Makoto’s, over his chest. ‘You can tell me if I’m wrong.’

Makoto turned his hand to wrap it around Yuma’s. ‘If you’re not wrong,’ Makoto said, ‘then why did you say yes?’

‘Because I want to be convinced. I mean.’ Yuma didn’t know if he wanted to stay or go, in the end; what he knew was that he wanted Makoto to take advantage of him. ‘Only if you want to.’

‘What if I do?’ Makoto said. ‘Are you prepared for that?’ There was a rough note in his voice, it let Yuma know that this wasn’t all in his head.

‘I think so.’

Makoto made another sound that wasn’t quite laughter; he turned back toward Yuma and caressed his cheek, let his fingers curl against the back of Yuma’s neck. He pressed their foreheads together, his breath against Yuma’s skin. Not kissing him, but creating that anticipation.

He kissed the corner of Yuma’s mouth.

But Yuma wouldn’t let him get away with only that; he turned his mouth to meet Makoto’s fully, and the press of their lips sent a sweet shock through him.

Makoto was reluctant, perhaps; he pulled back. But his fingers were still on Yuma’s neck, and he wasn’t reluctant, Yuma thought.

Only unprepared.

So Yuma closed the distance; it was easier than holding back. If he’d wanted to resist, he could have slept on the couch, after all. He could have gone back to his hotel room. He could have never come here in the first place.

It probably meant he was a pervert, that he so badly wanted someone who was his exact copy. But why did he have to pretend anything else? When he knew Makoto felt the same way.

So he kissed Makoto, and this time, Makoto didn’t pull back. He surrendered himself to it. His hand traced its way down Yuma’s, so that Yuma became very aware of his own shoulder blades, of the layer of fabric that separated him from Makoto.

Makoto’s teeth nipped his lip, and Yuma didn’t even mind. He felt giddy, high off kissing and the sense of being petted. He held Makoto in turn, his hand against the small of Makoto’s back, slipping between the hem of Makoto’s pyjama top and his waistband. Pressing himself closer into him, so that he could feel the swell of Makoto’s erection against his leg.

Makoto broke the kiss but not the contact; his breath was hot on Yuma’s cheek.

‘Anything you want,’ Yuma said. ‘It’s fine with me.’ He rubbed his cheek against Makoto’s.

‘You’re going to give me too much.’ There was a crack in Makoto’s voice.

‘I trust you.’

Makoto rubbed his cheek back; then he undid the buttons of Yuma’s pyjama top. The one Makoto had lent him and needn’t have. He pushed it off from Yuma’s shoulders and Yuma threw it to the floor. Then Makoto was tugging down Yuma’s pyjama bottoms and his underwear together, and Yuma couldn’t help but cover his face as his penis was exposed. Even though it was what he wanted, it was embarrassing. Even if it was nothing Makoto hadn’t seen before.

Makoto made a little sound of amusement. He took Yuma’s wrists into his hands and pushed them flat against the bed. ‘No hiding,’ he said. ‘Shouldn’t a detective always face the world head on?’

‘I’m not a detective right now,’ Yuma protested. But now that Makoto was looking into his eyes and not at his body, he didn’t mind having his face uncovered. He wondered if Makoto felt the same way.

Yuma lifted his chin, and Makoto kissed him again. More wetly than before. Makoto let go of his wrists to twine their fingers together, then squeezed Yuma’s hands before he sat back again to undress himself. And if Yuma had been embarrassed to be seen, it didn’t stop him from looking.

But Makoto didn’t give him long before he was on top of him again. ‘I can do anything I want to you?’

‘Yeah.’

Makoto put his fingers in Yuma’s mouth, pressing against his tongue. That not unwelcome invasion stirred Yuma all the more; he closed his mouth around Makoto’s fingers and sucked. Makoto’s eyes widened; he bit his lip on something, some sound.

Then withdrew his fingers, only to rub them against Yuma’s anus. It made Yuma gasp, his back arcing, because it was dirty and erotic at the same time, and because it was Makoto –

Makoto who he shouldn’t trust, but he wanted to. He couldn’t stop himself wanting to. The same way he couldn’t stop himself wanting this, however much he’d managed to damp it down in the past.

Makoto pressed a finger inside Yuma, and Yuma made a thoroughly embarrassing noise. Threw a hand across his mouth, but it didn’t matter; Makoto had already heard him. And even if he hadn’t, the evidence was already there in Yuma’s erection.

Makoto moved his hand, rubbing his finger against and inside Yuma; Yuma jerked his hips involuntarily. Makoto took his hand away and spat on his fingers, spreading the wetness against Yuma’s hole before pressing two of his fingers inside, curling them meanly inside him. Yuma found his legs were trembling. Makoto didn’t stop, and Yuma’s penis was dripping, and he’d thought Makoto was going to fuck him but maybe this was better, because Makoto was hardly even doing anything and Yuma was completely exposed, his pleasure and his susceptibility undeniable.

‘Don’t keep quiet,’ Makoto said, because Yuma was holding his breath.

The words spilled from him at the invitation. ‘It feels good,’ he said. ‘Makoto –’ His breath came in pants, and he didn’t know what he wanted to say. He’d never felt like this before.

‘I know,’ Makoto said, and he leaned forward to press a kiss to Yuma’s forehead, still tormenting him from the inside.

The forehead kiss wasn’t what Yuma had been angling for. So what was it that Makoto knew? Did he know how Yuma felt right now? But he couldn’t know what Yuma felt. Whatever experience Makoto had – whether that was his own fingers or not – he wasn’t Yuma. He wasn’t Yuma being done to by the person that Makoto was to him.

Who even were they to one another?

‘Makoto.’ Yuma didn’t know if he was begging him, or if the name was a sort of protest at the way Makoto made him feel, the increasing insistence with which he rendered Yuma helpless to him. Heat and desire swallowed Yuma up. ‘Makoto, I’m –’

The words were lost to a cry as orgasm engulfed him. Yuma could feel himself pulse against Makoto’s fingers as he spilled, thick white semen streaking his stomach. Makoto was panting too, as sweaty as Yuma, watching with a wildness that was somehow familiar.

‘Amazing,’ Makoto said. ‘I wasn’t sure you could come like that.’

‘It’s not like I’d know either,’ Yuma protested, as Makoto withdrew his fingers. The air felt suddenly cool on Yuma’s skin, on the sweat that sheened his body.

‘No,’ Makoto said. ‘Did I take your virginity?’ He sat back, and stroked himself almost idly.

‘So what if you did?’ Yuma pushed himself into a sitting position, and leaned forward to wrap his hand around Makoto’s penis. Makoto, pleasingly, gave a little gasp and let go of himself, letting Yuma take over; Yuma felt an aftershock of heat gothrough him.

‘There’s no so what,’ Makoto protested, but his voice was shaky. His usual surety had fled. ‘Just, I’m the same.’

Makoto’s eyes flickered shut. It was probably weird to think about your own homunculus, but Makoto was beautiful.

‘Kiss me again,’ Yuma said, and Makoto opened his eyes long enough to pull Yuma toward him. So he was kissing Yuma when he came. Then he wrapped his arms around Yuma and pulled him down on top of him, both of them gross and sticky and in need of a shower.

‘Yuma,’ Makoto said, ‘you won’t leave this time, will you? Not so soon.’

‘Not if you don’t want me to,’ Yuma said. It wasn’t something he would have imagined saying before he’d come here – but then none of this had been on the agenda.

Or not on Yuma’s agenda, at least.

‘When you invited me here,’ Yuma said, wondering out loud, ‘is this what you had in mind all along?’

‘How could I?’ Makoto sounded sincere, but also he was playing with Yuma’s hair and probably Yuma would have believed anything in such circumstances. ‘I didn’t intend anything, except to see you again. To determine how I felt. I couldn’t know that before you arrived.’

‘But you know now.’

Makoto curled Yuma’s hair around one finger. ‘You don’t have to go back to your hotel room at all,’ he said. ‘If you don’t want to.’

‘You want me to stay here? Here here?’

‘You wouldn’t, would you? What sort of a detective shares living space with the CEO of the city’s main employer?’

‘The same kind that sleeps with him, probably.’ They should really get up and wash, but it was hard to think of moving right now. ‘You’re right, though. I’m sure Chief Yakou would tell me that’s the sort of thing I shouldn’t agree to so easily.’

‘He’d tell you not to agree to it at all.’

‘He would.’ Yakou had always warned him against Makoto, after all.

Makoto’s hand came to a rest.

‘So you won’t stay here,’ Makoto said. ‘But you should know, you’ll always be able to stop in. Even when I’m not around. You have my key, as it were.’

‘Isn’t that just because we’re the same biometrically speaking?’

‘I could secure things against you if I wanted to,’ Makoto said. ‘I just won’t.’

‘Well, maybe I’ll test that some day.’

Yuma let his eyes drift shut. Even if they fell asleep like this, it wouldn’t matter.

They could clean themselves up in the morning.