With the belt unbuckled, Shinji moved to unzip the slacks as Hayashi moaned under his touch. Only the boxer briefs stood between his hand and Hayashi’s hard cock. Shinji curled his fingers around it through the fabric and moved his fist up and down. Hayashi gasped, his hands gripping the edge of the sink, his forehead on Shinji’s shoulder. He tilted his head, pressing his lips to Shinji’s pulse at the side of the throat and lingered there, moaning as Shinji stroked him.
Then he straightened up abruptly, his hands landing on Shinji’s belt and he started unbuckling it fast.
Shit. We’re really gonna do this…
Before they could continue, the office’s door opened.
CHAPTER 10
Teruo
A thud of the door being slammed reverberated. It was followed by the superintendent’s voice. “Shinji, have you contacted—” The superintendent stopped abruptly, then silence.
Teruo drew back from Miyazaki and they eyed each other alarmed. Both were an utter mess, with their shirts wrinkled, slacks unzipped and dicks hard.
Fucking hell!Did he hear us?
Teruo inhaled sharply, his whole body going into alert-mode, heart pounding and a shiver running through him. Thank goodness he’d had the clarity of mind to close the door of the office’s private restroom. Nothing was worse than Superintendent Yoshida walking inside just when Teruo was making out with the new officer on the sink. If the superintendent had caught them with their pants down, Teruo shuddered to think what could’ve happened. Definitely not just demotion. He would’ve gotten his horny ass fired.
He put a finger to his lips, gesturing for Shinji to remain quiet and pretend they weren’t inside. If the superintendent hadn’t heard anything, he’d leave and they could pull themselves together, then come out of the restroom. But Miyazaki knocked the first-aid kit as he stepped down from the sink, the plastic box rattling when it fell on the floor. He cursed silently and hurriedly straightened his clothes.
Some more footsteps, then the office’s door opened and slammed closed again. Teruo let out a long shaky breath.
He couldn’t help but notice how Superintendent Yoshida had called Miyazaki by his first name. Had they known each other before Miyazaki moved here? Was this why the superintendent was so keen on keeping him at the TMPD? The superintendent was a Tokyoite, but that didn’t mean he or his wife couldn’t have friends in Hiroshima.
Teruo stared at Miyazaki before looking away and taking care of his shirt and trousers. The whole interruption had calmed the flush on Teruo’s face and the swelling in his underwear. But the small restroom made it difficult to stay focused as the side of Miyazaki’s hip brushed by Teruo’s and the smell of his perfume was arousing.
Zipping his slacks and buckling his belt fast, Teruo ran his hands over his shirt and through his hair trying to make himself look presentable and not like he almost got a hand job from his subordinate officer in the restroom just in case the superintendent decided to return. Then he carefully opened the restroom’s door and peeked into the office, making sure the coast was clear.
“Is he still there?” Miyazaki whispered.
“No.”
Fuck, I need a smoke and a cold shower.
Teruo rushed to his desk, settling down on the leather chair, then opened the pack of Mevius and grabbed a cigarette.
“Well, this was a waste of time,” Miyazaki mumbled as he cleaned up the wire and the foam.
“The foam’s a lot more slippery than skin,” Teruo said, blowing smoke toward the window. “Some sort of material closer to skin texture might’ve been better.”
“Yeah, I guess.” Miyazaki sighed.
There was a lingering awkwardness in the air and Teruo was grateful for the change of topic. He wasn’t yet sure what to say or think about what just happened. His palm still tingled with the feel of Miyazaki’s body and his ears were filled with Miyazaki’s moans.
“Don’t be too discouraged,” Teruo said in a feeble attempt to keep the discussion focused on the murder weapon. “It does confirm our theory that the wire has a symbolic meaning for the murderer, otherwise they wouldn’t have used such a method. It’s messy and requires a lot of time to pull off.” Teruo nodded toward Miyazaki’s bandaged hand. “Unless they have a job where they use wires, so perhaps they’re dexterous.”
“I thought of that,” Miyazaki said picking up the wire. “But with the way it was used, it just doesn’t seem to add up. A person can’t put this much strength into breaking skin and being so precise at the same time.”
Miyazaki fumbled with the wire a bit more, raising it into the air and stretching it. He frowned, then wrapped it up and threw it in the trash.
Teruo averted his eyes and turned around in his chair toward the open window. Rain started while they were in the restroom and small drops hit the window screen. A breath of damp, fresh air reached Teruo, dispersing the trail of smoke from the cigarette.
He should’ve pulled away. Why the hell had he offered to help Miyazaki with the wound? Miyazaki could’ve easily managed it himself. And why did he let it get so far? Loneliness? Desperation? Lust? All of them?
Teruo blamed it on his lack of relationships. It had been three years since he touched another man. Three years since his long-time boyfriend abandoned him. Teruo had just turned thirty and was promoted to chief inspector—the youngest in the TMPD back then. He remembered returning home, thrilled to share the good news, but instead found the apartment empty. Teruo’s lover had packed his bags and disappeared. There was no note, no text message, nothing and Teruo never heard from him again. Two and a half years of relationship gone just like that. His lover had been complaining that Teruo was never home, that he was too obsessed with his work, that his job had made him insensitive.
Perhaps he’d really turned into a cold-hearted bastard. Teruo had completely given up on relationships—even purely physical ones—ever since.