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Well, this wasn’t how Giran had hoped to spend his weekend.
The next slap came fast and harsh, snapping his already spinning head to the side. Long manicured nails scraped over his scalp as an elegant hand fisted into his hair, wrenching his head back up.
Kizuki Chitose grinned hungrily down at him, hair a curtain of lilac around her. “It’s okay if you don’t feel like talking yet, darling. It means I have more time to work this story out of you.”
A scoff sounded from farther into the room.
“Details about that ridiculous ‘League of Villains’ hardly count as a story.”
Giran watched as Chitose’s eyes narrowed and she turned back around towards the source of her soured mood, but before there could be any more bickering a voice as slick as oil cut in.
“Now, now, Skeptic, no reason to ruin our dear Curious’ fun now, right? You had your moment to play with our guest already. That is, unless you’d like more time with him?”
A mean snicker came from a figure crouching on the floor and swaddled in a thick coat after Hanabata Koku, the politician himself, was done with his little spiel. The man he was trying to chastise, none other than Chikazoku Tomoyasu from Feel Good Inc., sneered and went back to tapping at a computer, connected to Giran’s phone.
The broker rolled his eyes at the whole display. In the back of his head he was storing away all the little details that made these people tick, even if the casual way they connected their very public faces with their aliases didn’t exactly bide well.
But then, with the very real possibility of not being let go even if he talked, what reason would he have to betray his dearest clients?
The hand in his hair tugged sharply, Chitose getting back in his face. “Oh? What’s with that expression?” Her grin was predatory, her eyes sparkling with a mix of mischief and malice not unlike those of a little villain acquaintance of Giran, but he liked it way less on Chitose. “Would you rather Tomo-chan took care of this interview? My, maybe I should be offended, but he did catch your attention first, hm?”
Well, if they wanted to play, Giran had no shame in playing along.
He smirked back up at Chitose, air whistling through the gap in his teeth in a way that he knew could be quite irritating.
“If you can get him back into that purple thing, darling, I dunno if I’d answer you, but part of me would certainly respond well.”
The way the clacking on keyboard halted was well worth the look of pure disdain that got directed at him through a curtain of black hair. The bark of laughter that escaped the hooded figure on the floor was sort of satisfying too, even in the reminder of how his dick had betrayed him.
It had been a stupid move, really, to approach the pretty thing he saw standing in the lamplight. But Giran had been a bit tipsy, and horny, and he was in a district that had always served him well when he wanted to get his dick wet without much trouble attached. That’s why he’d kept coming back, making a habit. Making himself predictable.
Stupid mistake.
But that pretty slender thing was there, purple dress hugging her ass and baring her back to the night, if it wasn’t for the long black hair shielding her skin. Giran had grinned, watching the slim legs as they crossed when the cutie leaned against the lamplight. Long hair to pull, thin enough that his cock might even bulge out her stomach… Just how he liked them.
As he said, he’d become predictable.
His hand had been taken quickly as soon as he’d propositioned her, the pretty whore not even turning to look at him as she dragged him to the “privacy” of the nearby alleyway on unsteady legs. Shy? A new one? Oh, Giran thoroughly enjoyed breaking them in…
That had been his last thought before the darkness of the alleyway had swallowed them and a needle had slipped into his neck.
Another slap brought him back to the present.
“I don’t like being ignored, broker.” Chitose smiled like it all was quite funny, like she could do this all day. Well, so could Giran. But he’d throw her a bone, if she wanted.
“Oh sorry, I was just thinking about what I could tell you.” Giran smirked placidly as immediately he got the attention of the whole room. He pretended to ponder things. “Mmm should I start by telling you about —what was it? Ah, right— Tomo-chan’s cute little ass in that purple dress? Or about those legs? I had a list of things planned for those, shall I start with that?”
On the floor, the person in the coat snorted out an ugly laugh. Hanabata Koku shook his head with disappointment that felt fake, while by the windows Yotsubashi Rikiya of Detnerat itself seemed to take a fortifying breath and sip of wine.
Chikazoku looked about ready to strangle someone, but Giran felt that the way Chitose’s smile had frozen in place was about to turn out more dangerous.
“Oh my, aren’t you a playful one.” She said, all honey and sharp nails.
She stepped away from Giran, going to the large desk in the room where the things he’d had in his pockets were now spread out. Picking up one of his cigars, she handed it over to Hanabata. “Get it started for me?”
Giran didn’t trust the way those two smiled at each other.
Hanabata lit up with a small smirk, taking a moment to clearly enjoy the quality of Giran’s cigar (he liked fine things, of course, not the worst you could sue him for), before passing it back to Chitose, who barely drew smoke as she walked back towards Giran. The fat red cherry of the cigar burned bright and ominous as it neared.
“Since you seem in the mood to play, how about we do this?” Painted nails dug into Giran’s cheeks as Chitose tilted his head up, before exhaling smoke in his face. “Give me an answer I like, and I’ll let you have a drag. Give me sass, and you’ll get the other end of the cigar. Easy, right?”
Giran hummed, before lazily grinning up at her. “What if I don’t give you shit, honey?”
Chitose’s eyes narrowed, even if her lips stretched into something both displeased and sadistic.
“Then I think we’ll see how much you like being an ashtray.”
A harsh yank on his shirt sent buttons flying, then Chitose was making good on her word, pressing the burning tip of the cigar into his skin. Giran hissed, but gritted his teeth: it was nothing, just because he’d risen to a nice place for himself now, it didn’t mean he had forgotten the mud and blood he’d had to wad through to get there. A few burns would be nothing, a minor inconvenience, and a few new spots for whores to put their mouths on when he’d get out and back to his life.
“Where is the League’s hideout now?”
“Dunno, darling.”
A burn on his shoulder.
“Who made Toga Himiko’s support gear?”
“Someone I know.”
The cigar pressed angrily against the delicate skin below his collarbone.
And so on and so forth.
Giran was even letting his mind wander a bit, just there enough not to say actually anything, but drifting on the high of pain at one point.
Maybe he shouldn't have.
“What’s this?” Chitose’s tone was different, so Giran spared her a raised eyebrow.
“Care to be more specific, doll?”
She wasn’t looking at him, though, she was looking down at where he was seated on the chair they’d tied him to. Chitose seemed confused as she raised a foot off the ground and poked her shoe against his crotch. That finally brought a different reaction out of Giran: a gasp.
“You’re getting off on this?!” Chitose’s face seemed unable to decide whether it wanted to grimace or grin. “You old sicko, you’re disgusting!” Yet, even saying that, she pressed the underside of the platform of her heels down on the seam of his pants, putting pressure on his admittedly more than half-chub.
With a little grunt, Giran hunched over, mind racing about how to try to steer the moment in his favor. Playing it up for sure, but in which direction? Thinking with his cock had already put him in this situation, maybe he should make it look like it pained him more than it did.
The pressure lifted and Giran looked up at Chitose through his lashes, licking his lips as he caught his breath. “Aw, sweetheart, stopping already? Not your idea of a good time?” Well, fuck that plan then, making her and everyone else in the room uncomfortable would have to do.
Chitose’s cheeks turned a lovely shade of purplish dark blue as she drew back, angry, offended, maybe something else too. It was really a shame that she wasn’t working somewhere in the red lights district, Giran thought, just before the point of her shoe got well and violently acquainted with his crotch.
“FUCK!”
Giran doubled over as pain shot up his spine and pulsed white-hot from his groin. He gasped for air, but he still threw a mirthless grin in Chitose’s direction.
“You’re savage, angel. Do you do this often?”
“Shut up,” Chitose gritted out, which just made him bark out a laugh.
“I thought you wanted me to talk! Changed your mind already?”
For all of her disgusted expression, Chitose seemed determined to beat him at his own game, next resting her sole on his cock and starting to dig her heel into his sack. Well, time to pull out all stops, Giran rather liked his nuts and didn’t want to test if she actually knew what she was doing.
So he moaned, loudly. Before running his mouth.
“Oh sugar, trying to steal my heart? Who do you do this to usually? Bet it’s Hanabata who likes his balls crushed, hmm?” He squirmed in the chair, trying to relieve the pressure while hoping to make her falter, or to get a reaction from the others in the room. “Oooh unless it’s Yotsubashi who makes you step on his tiny little dick?”
“SHUT UP!”
Chitose stumbled back, but the shout hadn’t come from her.
It had been the person in the fluffy coat, now standing with tension running through their body, fists shaking in anger at their sides, hood having fallen back to reveal one of the prettiest faces Giran had seen in a while, all soft cheeks and long white lashes and hair of fresh snow. And utterly furious.
“How DARE you?!” They spit out, and the echoes rang out in the sudden silence of the room.
Giran raised an eyebrow, before looking between Coat Snow White and Yotsubashi at the window, the man’s jaw working and shadows seemingly gathering on his face. His pointy face…
So Giran turned back to the offended pale beauty, offering a lazy grin. “Ah, not a tiny dick? Is it long and pointy like his nose? Sorry, I’ve never been close and personal with it like all of you suckers surely are.”
With a roar the person stormed to the table with all of Giran’s stuff, grabbed his gun and marched towards the chair. They hit Giran face with the butt of the gun first, and he rolled with the hit, before the barrel was pressed into his temple.
“Do not insult Re-Destro if you value your miserable life at all,” they hissed as they stared Giran down, which would’ve been more impressive if they hadn’t used his own gun, which he knew all too well that was nothing but a—
“That’s a lighter, darling,” he drawled in the face of his most recent aggressor. “Didn’t you all check before this whole thing?”
The barrel was pressed harder against his temple, tilting Giran’s head to the side. Angry Snow White kept being spitting mad. “What if I could control fire, uh, asshole? What if I could turn this into an actual gun? Didn’t think of that before running your mouth, uh? What if I killed you, then?”
He raised an eyebrow. “Then you would’ve wasted a perfectly fine day and a source of information on—” he gave a one shoulder shrug, as if to encompass the whole room and situation “—whatever this is.”
Blue eyes narrowed, the person baring their teeth as they kept hissing. “You really like running your mouth uselessly, don’t you?”
Giran offered them a slow sardonic smile. “You really are not the brightest bunch if it took you so long to— hrrk!” The barrel of his lighter was unceremoniously shoved into his mouth, cutting off any more words as it clacked against his teeth and bumped into his palate. Oh, he didn’t like this, he much preferred being on the other side of this kind of play.
Not that it mattered to the little offended Snow White, grinning down at Giran all mean and pleased with themselves. “Since you have nothing interesting to say, let’s see if this teaches you anything, then we’ll try again with questions later, hm?” They obviously didn’t expect an answer from Giran, but they tilted their head back to look at Yotsubashi, clearly awaiting permission.
And with a nod from the CEO of Detnerat, it began.
It was nothing like what Giran liked to do sometimes, a slow drag of the barrel in and out savoring the phantom feeling of lips on his cock and watching the panicked eyes and tears of whatever poor bastard thought they had a gun in their mouth.
No, this was brutal and all about pain, knuckles wrapped around the grip punching his mouth at every thrust forward, the whole barrel plunged inside relentlessly and ruthlessly, metal harshly scraping his palate and cheeks.
Sadistic Snow White made sure to try every angle at first, one hand fisted in Giran’s hair to tilt his head every which way as the lighter bruised and scratched all around the inside of his mouth, until Giran could taste blood on his tongue. He groaned, and suddenly the gun was wrenched back, his head shaken by his hair as cold blue eyes regarded him as if he was nothing but trash.
“Ready to talk?”
Giran worked his jaw for a moment. Then, having gathered drool and blood on his tongue, he spit right in Snow White’s face. He offered a wrecked smile.
“Fuck you and your precious Re-Destro.”
That got him punched square in the face, and as he gasped through the pain and blood of his broken nose, the gun returned.
This time the barrel was aimed true for his throat, and Giran mentally cursed his past self for getting a lighter so big, his chest feeling tight as every punch in choked him, every thrust in hit the back of his throat again and again, bile rising even as he was made to swallow his own blood.
The person was insulting him, but Giran couldn't even hear them as his head spun, his ears rung, his stomach churned, and his throat worked, worked—
His body spasmed as he retched once, the gun got shoved in again, then suddenly he was throwing up all over his lighter, his front, his lap, the floor.
The icy bastard took a step back with a disgusted sound, but really, what did they fucking expect. Giran would’ve told them so, hadn’t he been busy emptying his stomach and making a mess of himself, coughing up puke and snorting out blood from his clogged nose in the hope to draw in just a bit of air.
Well, maybe these people could actually damage him. Too bad Giran didn’t feel any more inclined to tell them anything.
As he finished heaving and hacking up, perfectly polished dress shoes appeared in his field of vision, just out of range of his pool of sick. The suit above them told him it was Yotsubashi now standing in front of him, a hand landing on his shoulder guiding him up again to meet that pointy face.
Yotsubashi offered him a bland smile.
“I hope that this first introduction to the Meta Liberation Army has shown you that we do mean business, Giran-san. It would be in your best interest to collaborate, but if not…” The hand on Giran’s shoulder tightened painfully, even as Yotsubashi kept smiling, fake as you please, in his face. “We’ll find a way to break you.”
Giran wanted to spit at him, but he was still catching his breath.