Life Overseas

Disclaimer: Psycho-Pass (c) Production I.G.

Pairing: Kougami Shinya x Makishima Shogo

Rating: M

Chapter Title: The Splendor of Raw Egg

Chapter Summary: Having to live overseas together, Kougami discovers Makishima a complete pain to take care of. Especially when it comes to his eating habit and eggs.

Note: It is stated in the profile book that Makishima dislikes meat and eggs and that his weakness is simple tasks.

Three years. Three and a half. That was the duration of time in which nightmares had stolen his sleep. At one point during those years, Kougami had come to accept that those nightmares would stay with him forever, and he would have to deal with less hours of sleep. He did. And it had become his routine to take a nap during the day while his nights became extended as he occupied himself with books, exercises, lots of cigarettes, and coffee. So, naturally, it surprised him to discover that it only took a year for him to regain his peaceful sleep. Sasayama, from wherever he went to - be it hell or heaven, seemed to have decided to stop haunting his dreams in the form of grotesque plastination despite Kougami's eventual action for the route to take.

Perhaps the asshole had learned from a dead Korean over there that taking care of one Makishima Shogo was a pain far more tremendous than that first time in the extremely tight virgin ass and further beyond. And that aforementioned asshole was probably snickering at the moment. For so peacefully, Kougami Shinya slept, free of worry, free of nightmares as he lay upon the cozy mattress in just his black boxer - an absolutely droolworthy lump of beefcake.

For, sadly, a certain living someone really really disliked beef and eggs.

The first thing Kougami felt was the weight pressing down on him. He groaned, trying to sink more into his beloved pillow, not wanting to part from dear slumberland yet. But then, he felt it…those soft tresses tickling the very skin of his face…that warm breath caressing his bare skin…and that sinfully pleasurable feel of slender thigh rubbing against his responsive crotch, awakening many, many perverse desires. Kougami's eyes snapped open—

"Oh…?"

—Perfectly in time to see that dangerously sadistic look on Makishima's face being abruptly replaced with an innocent mask only sugar daddies, lesbians, and old single women would buy. As tame as a cute little kitten secretly planning world domination behind his owner's back.

"What are you doing?" He grunted, dark eyes shifting from the other man's attempted innocuous face to his position of straddling Kougami's lap… to the deliciously pale thighs so-called the bane of straight men (as Makishima loved to sleep with only his shirt and no pants or underwear on) to the small flashlight the naughty imp tried (and failed) hiding…

And…to those tapered fingers holding an egg, raw from the way light shone through it as boiled eggs would instead be opaque.

"What are you doing?" He repeated, eyes narrowing, daring the silent dare for the other man to reply with 'nothing'. He looked like a dog baring his angry fangs. Yet, the sly white cat didn't fear his bite. Makishima playfully smirked.

"What does it look like?" That innocent look melt away and the silver-haired male's tone turned seductive. "With me, you always harden so easily, Kougami." He leaned a little closer so even in whatever little light they had, Kougami got to have a close-up view of lashes so thick and long most less-fortunate girls would envy. "It seems like a pre-programmed demeanor. I wonder for all those years what you have been telling yourself." He let the flashlight drop, still careful with the egg as he snaked bodily on top of the bulkier male. "About me."

Irresistibly, Kougami hardened. And his gaze too was hard.

All the blood rushing to his groins did wake his sleepy brain, and while trying to keep his mind off that familiar throbbing, his most logical side attempted its best to function. Circumstance had it that the previous day, they happened to have hot pot for dinner. And, to hell with the man's charisma, Makishima was a darned picky eater.

Life outside Sibyl's world would have been simple enough even if one didn't get to have all the luxuries of advanced technology. Alas, (for middle English suits well the irony of this turn of event,) making a living for two was a heavy burden. Makishima, to hell with his charisma and idiosyncratic intelligence, had proven far more useless than Ginoza Nobuchika with all the simple works.

Kougami could never be certain whether this man had been indeed so clueless or that had been an attempt at Kougami's assassination. There was no way Kougami would forget the incident of terrific plasma and exploding microwave just because Makishima said he wanted to make sliced grapes into raisins. A few more destructive incidents convinced Kougami to leave Makishima reading (and only reading) at home. He would have chained the man to the bed with a stack of books if that had been possible.

Unfortunately, bed, chain and Makishima made an even more destructive combination. And it resulted in Kougami having to take care of Makishima for days due to the after-fever from the ex-Enforcer's large dick penetrating his poor virgin ass. Like hell Kougami would believe Makishima had been a virgin. The after-fever thing was also pretty much a myth. The most likely thing would have been either of them had got an STD. Still, medical check-up had cleared them both of such ugly suspicion. The doctor even told him to take good care of his wife.

Yes, Sasayama would be snickering. Kougami had gotten the biggest gift called karma.

Still, the ex-Enforcer did try his best to take care of his prized captive. And that included chiding him in front of some school kids for not eating the meat and the eggs. Food here was scarce, so nothing should go to waste. Frankly, Kougami was surprised Makishima hadn't thrown a punch. The man had instead given him all the beef and eggs, smiling an angelic smile. It seemed that hadn't been the end of it.

His hand quickly seized the silver-haired male's wrist, stopping the malicious hand with the accursed oval. "Are you trying to jam this thing down my throat?" He asked testily, already knowing the answer. Makishima gave him a sweet smile…before abruptly twisting his wrist away from the other's grab.

Now Kougami would have none of that. He had gotten used to the sly kitty's wicked way and wouldn't sit happily like some cat ladies (or Choe Gu Sung) until the kitty had succeeded the quest of world domination. He quickly grabbed Makishima's upper arm and tried to snatch away the egg.

"Isn't it obvious, Kougami?" Makishima didn't let him; he moved the egg out of the other's reach, switching it to his other hand. "'Learn from hen: never boast about egg until after egg's birthday.'" He tried to force the entire egg into Kougami's mouth. The dark-haired man grunted as he tried to wrench it far.

The battle began. And they wrestled and grappled and struggled. And they wriggled and wrenched and pushed. And they grunted, they shoved, they throttled. They elbowed, they thrashed, they groaned. The poor bed sheet crumpled beneath them as they fought for the precious egg. Eventually, as friction between them reminded the dark-haired man of that problem in his groins, adrenaline and throbbing cock won. Kougami succeeded in pinning the silver-haired man down, holding his slim wrists captive above his head. Both men were panting heavily. Amber colored eyes locked with obsidian ones.

"Are you a hen, Makishima?" The egg, then, was confiscated. Kougami let the other feel his cock.

Makishima let out a soft moan. His ripped shirt slid off one shoulder, revealing more skin. One rosy colored nub stood out attractively against the smooth plane of alabaster. Yet, the next moment such whiteness was eclipsed by looming shadow as the dark-haired man hovered over him. His lips parted, but his captor beat him in speaking first.

"'Eggs have two advantages over all other foods,'" began Kougami didactically, quoting from a 1905 cookbook once lent to him by Masaoka. "'First, they are procurable nearly everywhere.'" He fingered the raw egg in his hold, allowing Makishima to have one last look at his stolen precious—

"'Second, the most dainty person is sure when eating eggs that they have not been handled.'"

—Before cracking the egg, dropping both the very raw egg white and the yolk onto him.

Makishima squirmed beneath the larger man, Kougami's weight pressing down on him. He could feel the gooey substance on his chest; the abominable fluid seeped through the fabric of his shirt. He mentally cringed. The raw egg's scent, to him, was overwhelming it didn't help at all his distaste as the fluid slid down to his abdomen — its sticky wetness very much unwelcome. Technically speaking, he was in the least desirable situation: being squashed between the beef and the egg. Now Makishima knew how those poor tomato slices would feel. Cursed to be flanked by two things that reeked: The story of sad tomatoes in a hamburger.

"Get off, Kougami," he hissed venomously, struggling to free his arms. The irony of the situation was one of those cases so rare he couldn't find amusing. Blood, gore, and torture he could take, but never ever would Makishima Shogo tolerate the stench and soggy mess that was the raw egg. It was even worse when the said soggy mess happened to puddle around his exposed nipple and his nipple just had to be erected by the coolness of it. Not to mention Kougami's dick pressing dangerously close to his bare thigh. Makishima gritted his teeth.

It was ridiculous how his plan had backfired. Never before in his life had his games been so unexpectedly overturned. Either that or the outcomes were usually more acceptable. Still, Makishima had to admit life without Sibyl was very much different from the world he had known and hated. Perhaps it was not just hate, for he had learned first to become fascinated like a firefly…clinging to that magnificent light that would only burn him. That beauty had burned his sanity. That city had charred him idiosyncratic. The world of the Prophetess had blackened his soul. And yet, here he was…pulled back from the abyss by the hand that he only expected to have been his bane.

"I won't become like you…"

That was what the man had whispered to him…in the darkness behind his eyelids where life and death were barely separated by a thin thread. In Akutagawa's story, a sinner with only one good deed was almost saved by a Heaven Spider's thread; however, hell was full of sinners that they would never let one selfish man escape. In the end, the man fell back into the abyss with the rest of the sinners. Sometimes he wondered what virtue he did possess for him to be saved by Kougami. But the more he thought about it the answer was vivid:

Kougami Shinya was no Bodhisattva. The man only saved him so Kougami himself could be saved.

So that they both wouldn't fall together into the abyss trying to hang onto one thin spider thread. Because at the end of that merciful thread, Tsunemori Akane would only save her precious one. Because Makishima was the one who took more than one precious persons from her.

And that was something he didn't regret.

Seeing that there was no easy way out of this, Makishima forced himself to still.

Kougami raised an eyebrow when the other man seemed to stop struggling. Seemed to. For he knew he couldn't completely trust Makishima. The man could be acting to free himself from the situation. If there was anything he could tell for certain about his current (safer yet unhealthy) relationship with Makishima, one thing would be that the man enjoyed having the upper hand. For even though the pretty boy had more than willingly given Kougami his glorious ass (and Kougami adamantly insisted Makishima had seduced him first), the ex-Enforcer still felt himself deliberately wrapped around the silver imp's little finger. And Kougami had come to realize the saddest conclusion:

The longer he lived with this man, the more trapped he was by that accursed charisma.

It was doom. As doomed as that last dream of bloody Sasayama laughing his chopped ass off at him before the dead man appeared again the next night in glowing Toga outfit with one (securely intact) arm around a certain Korean's shoulder, announcing they would be off celebrating Kougami's sealed fate as a tormented babysitter.

"No." So playing safe, Kougami refused. Keeping the silver-haired man pinned with his weight, he freed one hand and reached under their bed. (He had, somehow, eventually, submitted to the notion that they shared a bed.) Kougami couldn't help a smirk as realization dawned on Makishima's face. A rare yet delicious expression. One that would make the prey sweet to devour. "You were being too naughty, Makishima." He said, warm breath ghosting the other's ear as he produced the one item he always kept conveniently close.

A handcuff.

"A naughty cat needs to be punished."

Something close to amusement flickered in Makishima's eyes. In all honesty, he didn't mind playing along with the handcuff; however, whatever amusement he had was soon drowned by the gooey puddle of never-to-be-born chicken. Kougami, having securely cuffed his hands to the bed post, could be a cruel punisher. Earlier Makishima had tried his best to stay still lest the disgusting fluid ran even further down area least desirable. Still, the consequence of being deceptively good and submissive did him no better, and now his punisher was taking pleasure smearing that sticky fluid all over his chest. Splayed fingers spread the unwanted puddle. His shirt soaked and rumple as it clung like his second skin.

"Your perversity have exceeded my expecta-"

His breath hitched, feeling a sudden pinch on his erected nipple.

"Have someone ever told you you talk too much, Makishima? Sometimes you'd be better just moaning," came the merciless words, followed by an even more merciless tweak.

Makishima moaned. Despite his personal dislike of eggs (and abhorrence of uncooked ones), he couldn't say he didn't enjoy the crude ministration. Rather, the more twisted part of him was rejoiced by it. For humans, there were so many reasons and un-reasons for sex. Sexual intercourse could be for the pure purpose of reproduction between heterosexual couples (excluding the possibility of special surgery), for expression of mutual love or for mere satisfaction. Yet, there were those who exploited such activity as an exchange or for manipulation. Then there were ones who used it to vent out their — as Freud theorized — frustration and even hatred. Sex was also un-reason because it was in human's nature and instinct. Henceforth, he had no shame relishing in the act with which Kougami had so evidently expressed his desire.

An act of free will with no restriction. Something that was beyond the usual initiation — the subtle and not-so-subtle seduction Makishima himself employed as the guide.

The perversity. The motivation. The hunger.

He would love to see more of it.

"Ah…"

So pliantly he arched, bending to the will of those nimble fingers, the slick mess softening the coarse touch on his skin. The fluid slid down his thighs, and Kougami's hand eagerly spread the sogginess over the pale globes of his ass. The silver-haired man shivered; the gentle massage made him both anticipate and dread what would soon come after. In his distant days, he remembered a lonely child bathing in the pool of guts and blood. Its coppery stench never faded from his dreams and memories. Never from this body. Even as those that worshipped him spoke of his purity and inhuman heartlessness. Still, Makishima had never before felt this dirty and defiled.

"Kougami…" He panted. Long lashes lowered, obscuring chatoyant golden eyes, creating an illusion of demureness.

"You're enjoying this too much." Kougami's voice cut him off from unpleasant memories. For unpleasant they were as no one was born in love with destruction and violence. Egg-stained fingers caressed his chin, smearing the detestable fluid on the petals of his lips. The silver-haired male wriggled his nose, attempting his best not to inhale the deadly smell that would bring forth the strong urge to vomit. "Say, Makishima, do you want me to put it inside you?"

Slowly but not hesitantly, enticing lips parted; words rolled off his tongue as he tried not to gag at the abominable taste that infiltrated. The chain clinked as he shifted, presenting his body in such a delectable way Kougami's cock painfully twitched. "Is it not your desire? To be so eager to put it inside me." The ex-crime producer smirked, tilting his chin up in mocked challenge. The angle perfectly exposed more of his delicious throat, silky threads cascading down his back like silver waterfall.

"Damn tease." Kougami cursed under his breath, finding the very last of his self-control slip away. He bent down and captured Makishima's lips. The taste of raw egg still lingered even as his tongue entered the sweet cavern that was the other's mouth.

Sometimes Kougami wondered why they even kissed. It was not as if they were in love. But what was love to even begin with? Some people kissed without sparing a thought on the concept of love and bonding. Kisses were just kisses to stimulate and satisfy. Still, to him, he found kissing an act of intimacy — perhaps even more intimate than sex without meaning. And yet, here he was…so fervently kissing with someone that was least unlikely to be in his arms. Someone whose bond with him started from sorrow and hatred. From bloodshed, decayed moral, and deep obsession.

For this kind of thing, even a dog with the sharpest nose like him had absolutely no idea what Makishima thought. But whenever he kissed him, those luminous eyes seemed to melt like molten gold. And whenever he held him close in his arms, the usually sleepless man slept so peacefully like there was no tomorrow.

Loneliness, perhaps, was the most dangerous disease.

Obsidian colored eyes locked with golden ones.

And gentleness too was the most dangerous weakness.

He would never tell Makishima 'I love you,' for he could hardly say their relationship was truly love.

Gathering the still wet goo, the black-haired man coated his fingers until they were again slick. "Don't think you've already won this." He breathed as they finally drew apart. He knew at least Makishima would still be bothered by the egg's slime. A predatory smirk spread across his lips as he slipped two fingers into the other's puckered entrance.

He would never say 'Shogo, I love you,' for that would instead cut this bond away.

Lesson learned over these years abroad: Never go easy on Makishima.

.

.

.

"…I will…never…ah…approve of egg's…ngh…splendor…Kougami."