Happy New Year... Goodbye 2021 and Caught - Chapter 24
Dec 31, 2021 7:04 am
Kia Ora...
2021 is only a few hours away from being over and done with... for me at least, and I can't say I won't be sorry to see it go even if it means I'm getting another year older. It's been a mixed year for me. I've been productive writing wise, felt like I was spinning in circles marketing wise, and have nailed down my over all brand the majority of my stories. Dark Fluffy Romance... I've course there'll always be one story that demands to be written that doesn't fit, but hey, sometimes you've got to write what your muses tell you to!
Looking ahead to 2022...
- Nagoya Crimes Two (MMF, Naomi Aoki)
- Caught (Smoke and Shadows 1, Naomi Aoki)
- Rough Sketches (House of Bolton 3, MM, MJ Green)
- Runway Riot (House of Bolton 4, FF, MJ Green)
- Until Death (House of Bolton Prequel, MM, MJ Green)
- Moutrams 4 (MM, Mpreg, Mandy Greenwood)
I also hope to re-edit/rewrite my paranormal Mpreg series and give it new covers... before finally getting to the last book in the series.
Of course it could all change, because life happens, and next year I have to pack up my house and shift at the end of the year.... yeah, fun.
Updates
- Rough Sketches... Ryland's story has past the 20k mark and is about a third of the way through the story.
- Hiroshi's story (Tokyo Nights Novella 3) is sitting at the 7k mark and has less than 20k left to write on it.
Caught - Chapter Twenty-Four
Trigger Warning... Blood Play, Knives... seriously not where I thought this story was going...
*****
“You took your time,” Takeshi said, the accusation in his voice tempered by a sigh of relief, and the snick of the lock being flicked on the door.
Yoshitake grinned at his lover from the chair on the far side of the room, his heavily bandaged foot resting on the low table that always sat next to it. “It wasn’t like you made it easy. You stabbed me in the fucking foot!”
He hadn’t planned to stay away this long, but three days had unfortunately passed before Yoshitake could bear weight on his injured foot. Age had its benefits at times, while at others it was a damn obstacle Yoshitake could’ve done without. Injuries he might’ve once shrugged off and not let slow him down were ones that left him with a lingering ache even after the painkillers had kicked in. And yet he’d been lucky, his errant lover managing to avoid breaking bones when he stabbed the knife into Yoshitake’s foot. Takeshi had snagged a few tendons though, leaving Yoshitake with unwanted and frustrating mobility issues.
But not even three days of enforced rest could prepare Yoshitake for clambering over fences to reach the rear of the main house, sneaking onto the property like a teenager keen for a romantic tryst with a lover. Didn’t help him to avoid the increased patrols that Takeshi had—wisely—put on, men who now saw Yoshitake as the enemy not a man who’d simply being following orders to shore up support for Takeshi amongst the fractured remains of the Shirokawa-gumi. Anger flared, tearing through his veins, and only served to intensify his pain rather than burn it away while he’d planned all the ways Takeshi would pay for what he’d done. Yoshitake had expected to walk away from the warehouse with some kind of minor injury, their hostile interaction wouldn’t have looked genuine otherwise. Yet Takeshi had seen fit to deviate from the plan by getting the Araki-gumi heir involved… and yes, maybe he’d deviated from the plan first by killing Takeshi’s father.
“Don’t you have far too many clothes on, Keshi?”
Takeshi snorted and shook his head as he stepped away from the door and headed for the bathroom. “Maybe if I were intending to stay… but I have duties to attend to… men who are baying for your blood that I need to keep distracted from actually finding you.”
“We’ve got time for this at least.” Yoshitake reached inside his jacket and pulled out a knife that was far more intricately designed than the one Takeshi had stabbed into his foot. Flicking it open, he laid it across his lap and stared at his young lover, trusting that he would understand the meaning behind it. Trusted that he remembered the promise Yoshitake had made him before Takeshi’s father had ripped them apart.
Takeshi dropped is gaze and stared at the knife. His breath audibly hitched, caught halfway between a whimper and a moan. “You want to do this… now?”
“I wanted to do this back then… back before your father sent you to Tokyo. I wanted to do it upon your return, but I realised that the moment wasn’t right, that your place…our place at the head of the Shirokawa-gumi hadn’t been secured yet.”
“It still isn’t secure,” Takeshi whispered, hurrying to rid himself of the shirts he wore. “Not my place… not yours.”
“But they will be.” Yoshitake was confident in that, despite how it might look right now. “Pants… too,” he rasped, gesturing at the offending bits of clothing. His plans might have only been to mark the empty space on Takeshi’s chest, but he wanted to feel the man’s visceral reactions to it… wanted to feel him grow harder beneath him with every slice of the knife made in Takeshi’s skin.
“Where… where do you want to do this?”
“On the bed.”
Yoshitake stood up and hobbled across the room. He placed the knife on Takeshi’s chest, the cool steel blade filling the space between the man’s tattoos that would soon wear Yoshitake’s marks. Too long he’d waited for this moment, too long he’d spent imagining it, and it was hard to believe that it was finally happening. Stripping off his clothes, Yoshitake dropped them to the floor not caring that his shirts were now missing a few buttons. Mindful of his foot, he clambered onto the bed and straddled Takeshi’s hips, the man’s cock already hardening beneath Yoshitake’s arse, and he hadn’t even picked up the knife.
Grasping the knife by the hilt, he slowly lifted it off Takeshi’s sternum, dragging the tip of it along the young heir’s skin. He slapped the flat of the blade against his palm, bottom lip caught between his teeth as he starred at the empty canvas before him—the thin layer of skin that covered the centre of the chest running from the notch at the base of Takeshi’s throat to where the sternum ceased to exist. Traditionally the space was left empty, the pain too much for even the hardiest of yakuza to endure… but for him, and only him, Takeshi would burden himself with that pain, just as they’d discussed once in the past.
“Are you going to get on with it?” Takeshi asked, his voice threaded with arousal and wary anticipation. “Your regarded as the enemy right now, and I don’t think they’ll ask questions before shooting if one of men stumble into the room and see you with a blade pressed to my skin.”
“Are you ready?” he threw back. “This isn’t going to be painless… if anything, it might be one of the most painfullest things you’ll ever need to endure.”
“I know.” Takeshi lifted his arm and brushed his fingers across the marks that graced Yoshitake’s skin. Silvery white now, they’d been the reason Yoshitake’s feelings for Takeshi had been uncovered, the young heir… his then soon to be lover having etched them with the same blade he’d later stabbed Yoshitake with. “I remember your cries, pushed out between gritted teeth and leather… the slickness of your blood as it coated my fingers and dripped off the blade… the way it looked all dotted with white as I came all over you.”
And fuck, Takeshi wasn’t the only one getting aroused. His cock just as eager to cum all over Takeshi’s blood-soaked skin.
“I’ve waited long enough, Take… please don’t make me wait any longer.”
“I never could deny you anything…”
“Except one thing. There was one thing you denied me,” Takeshi hissed, the bite of anger sliding into one of pain as the tip of the knife cut into his flesh.
“I had to do it, Keshi,” he said while slowly etching the design that paired with his own into Takeshi’s skin. “I couldn’t let you carry that burden.” Yoshitake sat back and grabbed the cloth that lay on the bed next to Takeshi. He wiped away the blood covering the young heir’s skin and grinned as he watched it bead at the edges of the thin cuts he’d made. Red lines stark against the paleness of the untattooed flesh that was quickly joined by the white splashes of his cum.
“A son should never have to kill their father… and if you’d come back too early questions would have been asked, he’d have tried to keep us separated again.” Yoshitake reluctantly clambered off the bed and headed for the bathroom, rinsing the cloth under water before returning to clean the blood and cum from Takeshi’s body. “And if you’d hesitated… we’d both be dead.”
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