Kojuurou looked so stiff in that business suit and the office chair, the huge dark wooden desk and the monitor for the computer that was all slick new technology and contours. Masamune's last class of the day had been canceled, so he'd taken the bus to the offices where his family's business took place, under Kojuurou's watchful eyes. The other employees had smiled and greeted him, but had gotten cursory replies, and he'd slipped quickly out of small-talk with any of them in favor of going up to the floor where Kojuurou's office lay.

The office door was closed but not locked, and Masamune watched Kojuurou's face as he spoke into the phone receiver, brows creasing for a moment, fingers going up to adjust his glasses before he leaned back in the chair again. Masamune twisted the latch, so the door opened, and instantly Kojuurou's gaze raised, brows creasing and mouth twisting into a scowl before the door opened enough for him to recognize Date, at which point the scowl faded into surprise.

Kojuurou started to cut off the call, but before he could, the bud of an idea popped into Masamune's head, and he grinned. "Don't worry about me, you can finish your call," he said in a voice low enough not to be audible over the phone, but loud enough that Kojuurou heard, and hastily added apologies to whomever it was he was talking to.

Date leaned back against the door until it clicked shut, fingers flicking the lock without Kojuurou's notice as he strode away from the door, across the room to the desk. The older man barely glanced up, swiveling his chair around to click something on the computer desktop. Date didn't take kindly to being ignored, and settled on the floor, scooting over to pull Kojuurou's knee around, the chair swiveling towards him again.

Kojuurou's impatient glare was replaced with surprise and trepidation as he realized that Date was shuffling slightly closer, catching Kojuurou's legs just above his elbows as his fingers found Kojuurou's belt, sliding the leather through the buckle, unhooking the notch, and pulling it open to reveal the button of Kojuurou's pants.

Date's gaze drifted up towards Kojuurou's face, a grin spreading across his lips as Kojuurou's eyes met his, and without hesitation, his thumb flicked open the button, and eased the zipper downward on the man's slacks. Kojuurou shifted in his chair, and stammered a reply to the telephone's receiver as fingers tugged at fabric, revealing boxers beneath the designer slacks.

"Don't hang up, Kojuurou." It wasn't a request, and he could see Kojuurou's mind working through what he was at, and an unusual flush rose in the older man's cheeks. Before he could protest, Masamune had slipped him out of the opening in the front of the boxers, and heard Kojuurou's breath catch as his fingers started to work his length.

He could hear the strain in Kojuurou's voice, if only because he knew to listen for it. He knew the subtle changes in his breath, in his words, the way his fingers closed around the arm of the chair, the leather making quiet creaking noises as fingers dug into it. His tongue flicked out once, twice, tracing a swirl around the tip, gaze never leaving Kojuurou's face, and his retainer's gaze never once breaking from his.

Kojuurou's voice was almost audibly strained now, though he managed to keep his tone even, and bit back a gasp when Masamune closed his lips around his arousal. The leather creaked, and he felt the tension in the legs beneath his elbows, his own thumbs hooking into Kojuurou's belt loops as he leaned slightly further forward, gaining leverage to begin moving. Now the single grey eye was looking up through his bangs at the man's face as, finally, Kojuurou's gaze broke away from his, and his eye closed, teeth clenching as he fought to keep from letting out any noise, to keep from allowing his quickened breath to be heard.

Despite himself, even Masamune felt his pants becoming tighter with his motions, simply with the act of watching Kojuurou's pleasure, or perhaps of being the one providing it in the first place. He let out soft sounds, which only seemed to make it more difficult for Kojuurou to stifle his own, as fingers tangled in his hair, as if he wanted to pull Date away, but couldn't quite gather the strength or will to do it.

He quickened his pace instead, and glanced up to see Kojuurou's teeth biting into his bottom lip, eyes clenched shut. His breath shook with the effort of keeping it even, and his words were slower and his answers shorter to whomever he was speaking to. It wouldn't be much longer, he knew the signs well enough.

And sure enough, a few moments later, the grip in his hair tightened then disappeared entirely, and despite his best efforts, Kojuurou's breath came quick and short, and he pulled the receiver away from his mouth, eyes finally opening once more and fixing on Date's face as he spilled into Masamune's mouth. Pulling away, wiping his mouth with the back of one hand, Masamune reached for a tissue with the other, spitting into it and tossing it in among the opened envelopes and paper in the small bin beneath Kojuurou's desk, and smirked up at the man as he said his goodbyes.

The phone clicked back into place, and Kojuurou's brows rose. Date just grinned back, and pulled himself up into the chair, leaning forward to nip at Kojuurou's bottom lip, admiring the shine of sweat on the other man's forehead with no small sense of amusement and a little bit of pride. "Just felt like it. And now it's your turn, you see?" he murmured against the man's lips, single eye meeting Kojuurou's, and heart speeding at the answer he saw in the other's gaze.