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Tokyo, Japan

"Ryu, come. It's time." Kiku held open the door, revealing the black sedan, windows tinted, idling in the back alley.

"This sucks." Ryu narrowed his eyes at the only man he'd ever loved. His hand tightened around the handles of his duffel bag.

Pain flashed across Kiku's dark eyes. "I know."

Ryu took a last look at his fellow White Tigers, his brothers on the path. They'd already said their goodbyes, but Ryu scanned their eyes. His gaze locked with Yuzo on the end.

Don't worry, Yuzo, I won't seduce your lover on the way to the airport. Ryu watched the thought rise in his mind and then let it pass. Pettiness was below a White Tiger, a trait completely lacking honour. As much as Ryu wanted to blame him, it wasn't Yuzo's fault that Kiku had fallen in love with him.

And it wasn't really Yuzo's fault that Ryu had to leave his home. Again.

He bowed to his brothers. "Sayonara." There wasn't time to embrace them all a second time.

"Now, Ryu."

Ryu forced himself to turn and walk out. A guy in a dark suit and sunglasses opened the car door for him and Ryu had to remind himself he was being protected, not arrested. He felt like a criminal, stealing out in the still, humid air of dawn, rather than someone taking refuge from a criminal.

Kiku settled into the seat beside him and Ryu breathed a sigh of relief. At least he'd have this last car ride with him. The agent closed the door behind them, settled into the passenger seat and the driver started.

Ryu tried not to look through the dark tinting as Ni-Chome passed by him. At this hour, the bars and clubs lining their street were now closed, the neon signs dark, the sidewalks empty of the crowds who flocked Tokyo's hottest gay nightspots after sunset. He'd grown up in this neighbourhood. Twenty-seven years was a long time to be in one place. He sighed and looked down at his hand still gripping the handles of his duffel.

The car stopped at the intersection, a little too hard. The jarring motion almost threw him against Kiku. He clutched the hand rest in the door with his other hand, pulling himself in the opposite direction.

Not that it would matter. Kiku didn't love him that way. Life could really be cruel, making a person fall in love with someone who didn't fall in love with you back.

The car resumed and Ryu continued to stare down at his jeans.

"Ryu, please, look at me."

Ryu obeyed even though the other man's dark gaze captured his, as usual. There wasn't a time it hadn't, even when Ryu was thirteen and Kiku was a wakashu, coming to his house to bring Ryu's father his cut of the weekly earnings from his casino. Even then, Ryu had known Kikuchiya was different, not a true yakuza, not in his heart.

"I didn't have any choice. I pray you don't hate me."

Ryu stared at the face he'd always thought as beautiful as a golden Buddha, smooth skin, wide set eyes, high cheekbones and sensuous lips. Hate him? Hate the one man who'd cared about him, saw something special in him when no one gave a shit, not even his own mother? "I could never hate you. Ever."

Relief flitted through Kiku's features, though his look remained solemn. "This is one of the hardest things I've ever done."

Ryu's heart sped up a bit. "Really?"

The other man bowed his clean-“shaven head. "Of course it is. Don't you understand? You're the best friend I've ever had."

Now his jaw nearly dropped. Ridiculous pleasure flushed through his chest. Could it possibly be true? Kiku was a man who expressed his emotions, but he'd never said anything like this, not even when they were lovers. "What about Yuzo?"

Kiku looked up. "Yuzo is sincere…I hope. He has stood by me through…this." Kiku held up his left hand. The second finger-cutting he'd been forced to commit to appease Taro Suzuki had finally healed over. "But you've stayed by me even though…" His gaze shifted toward the window.

The rest of the sentence they both knew.

"Don't make me go." Without thinking, Ryu grasped the other man's forearm. The muscle was hard under the thin sleeve of his shirt. "I'm older now. I box. I can face Suzuki. He won't ever be able to-”"

"Don't say that word." Kiku's face darkened. "I won't let that psychopathic yak take you in trade for Yuzo and I won't ever let him touch you again. He's filth.

You're…precious." His full lips pressed together and a muscle twitched in his jaw.

A memory flitted through Ryu's mind. -˜Get the hell off him. He's a kid.' Kiku had stalked into the dark bedroom and loomed over Suzuki and his goon. Suzuki had rolled right off Ryu and did up his pants. Everyone knew Kiku was fierce and one of Naboru Miyazaki's favourite -˜sons.'

Suzuki had also been a wakashu at the time, a bitter one who resented being an underling with Kiku when his own father was the oyabun of the Suzuki-gumi. If the elderly man learned of this intended insult to Ryu's father, his chances of advancement would have completely vanished. However, that hadn't stopped Taro from making

Kiku's life a constant hell, either. Which included his current demand for Ryu.

Ryu's hand still rested on Kiku's arm. Their gazes locked. Ryu kept his hand where it was. He never wanted to let go.

Through the car window, he caught a glance of the Sumida River as they crossed over. There was still a chunk of time left until they reached the airport, but the urgency Ryu felt only intensified.

He dared to inch closer.

Kiku didn't object. He reached up and fingered Ryu's spiky hair, as if testing the shocking pink dye. "You should cut these tips. You'll stand out."

Cut his hair? Hell no. "I'll be in fucking Thailand," he said using that popular English swear word he knew. "What difference does it make?" He didn't care that he sounded like the hoodlums he'd resisted becoming. "I want you to always be able to find me." He waited for Kiku to scold his language.

Instead, Kiku's touch slid down his cheek and he brushed one fingertip over the nose ring in Ryu's left nostril. "Not fucking Thailand, Ryu. Phuket." Brief humour sparkled in Kiku's velvety eyes. "And I'll always come and find you if you need me." He tapped the nose ring. "This. Also too conspicuous."

Heat tingled in Ryu's cheeks. He'd never told Kiku his reason for getting the nose ring. No one knew. The others would tease him mercilessly for being a sap. At least, he believed they would. It didn't matter anyway. Kiku was psychic, practically a mind reader, and very likely had already guessed. Which was probably why he hadn't pushed Ryu to take it out before leaving. Kiku's touch on his skin made his heartbeat rise. Without meaning to, he tilted his

face upward. Just one kiss, he thought. Just to say good-bye.

Kiku's fingertips slid from his cheek. "It wouldn't be fair to you," he said softly.

Ryu's breath caught. "What wouldn't be fair?"

"What you were thinking."

Kuso! "Why don't you let me decide that? It seems to be the only thing I have any freaking control over in this situation."

The sorrow in Kiku's eyes shamed him. Kiku was the same man who'd taught him the path of the White Tiger, who'd showed him how to use sexual energy to heal his emotions. Just as sacred as their friendship was the relationship of teacher to student. He looked down. "I'm sorry," he murmured. "I shouldn't have spoken to you that-”"

"Shh." Kiku's fingertips under his chin made him look up. Soft warm lips closed over his. Kiku's hand cupped his cheek again. Ryu's eyelids fluttered as he sank into the kiss. A thumb brushed his cheekbone, back and forth. Just like the first time Kiku had ever kissed him. Kiku's kiss. The one tender thing Ryu had ever experienced in his life, that showed him there was more to the world than yakuza, than organized crime and rape.

Ryu's arms and legs tingled. The gentle fire spread through his gut and made his dragon harden. He dared to let his hand wander under Kiku's loose fitting shirt and sweep his fingertips across one side of the other man's tight waist.

Kiku started slightly but remained in place, his hand caressing Ryu's cheek.

Ryu moaned through their kiss, uncaring about the men in the front seat who no doubt could hear every breath and sound. It had been so long since he'd felt Kiku's warm skin, the tight hard muscles underneath. So smooth and beautiful. He could imagine the white tigers inked onto Kiku's chest as his fingers passed over it, the tattoos that had once marked him as a yakuza but had come to symbolize his commitment to his faith.

The pad of his thumb brushed over Kiku's nipple. The larger man pulled in a tight breath and broke the kiss. "Ryu," he whispered, breathing heavily. His dark eyes had a hungry edge now and the skin of his face had darkened.

Ryu suppressed a grin. So, Kiku wasn't as immune to him as he came off. Just as soon, the shadow settled over his heart again. The message was clear. He pulled his hand out and rested it in his lap.

"It's my failing," Kiku said.

For a moment, the spike of hurt made Ryu want to agree. However, just looking into Kiku's eyes made his heart melt all over again. "It's no one's fault." His words were true, though he'd never stopped wishing things were like they'd been before Yuzo came along, when Kiku had shared his bed with him, taught him that sex could be beautiful, full of pleasure and not fear…

Kiku closed his hand over Ryu's and held it, resting their interlaced fingers on one hard thigh. Ryu sighed, grateful for the contact, which, to his relief, lasted the rest of the way to the airport.

Once there, Kiku accompanied him through the terminal building, flanked by the plainclothes agents who made their little group appear more as a collection of friends come to see him off.

Ryu's heartbeat increased the closer they drew to the security checkpoint. At the small gate, he dropped his bag to the floor and threw his arms around Kiku. In a moment like this, he didn't give a shit about anything else, not even the tears that slipped from his eyes. Kiku and the others were going under heavy protection now. The Temple, their home and sanctuary would crawl with guards keeping an eye out for Suzuki and his goons. When the hell would he see Kiku again?

Thankfully, Kiku squeezed him back just as hard before pulling away. His dark eyes too, were misted over, as if he were holding back his emotions. "Don't neglect your meditation," he said softly, "partner or no partner."

Ryu swallowed hard. "I won't. But I'm coming back to you when this is over."

To his surprise, a tiny smile teased the corners of Kiku's lips. "I hope that you won't want to." Ryu stared at him. The words spiralled strangely through him and if Kiku hadn't been so damn weirdly psychic, he wouldn't have thought much of them. But before he could ask Kiku what he'd meant, the agent pressed the handle of his bag into his hand and steered him toward security.

 

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He rubbed the man's back in gentle circles and tilted his head aside so Koji-san's forehead could rest on his shoulder, all the while trying to erase the image of his lover's gunshot wound. "It'll be all right. You'll see, Koji-san. I know it will." He kept rubbing, feeling the wiry muscles of the other man's back flex as his body trembled and shook. The poor guy was a basket case. It was going to take much more than a massage with a happy ending to help him unwind.

Naoto held the other man for what seemed a long time, rubbing his back and just simply letting his anxiety attack run its course. Venturing one hand upward, he massaged the nape of Koji-san's neck. The man had a gracefully curved neck. Naoto had noticed it when unbuttoning his collar, and the skin there was warm and smooth. Not only that, but he smelled good, like clean laundry and soap with just a hint of male musk.

What a waste. A guy like this with such beauty, holed up in some office somewhere, driving himself insane over what was probably nonsense. Since his own father was a garbage collector, Naoto had always felt that Take Shimura provided a necessary service for society, something people just couldn't go without. So had Lee when he'd stopped teaching at the university to run his parents' grocery store in Little Asia. People always needed food. But some of the men who came here in suits, it seemed they'd be so much happier digging in the earth and growing things or building cabinets and soji screens. The man in his arms probably tapped on a computer the whole damn day. And night, from the looks of him.

Koji-san's trembling began to lessen. He seemed to like Naoto's fingertips on the tendons of his neck and on the smooth sides of his throat. Naoto resisted the urge to turn his face and press a kiss to the side of his head, but he did dare to let his massaging fingers venture upward, into Koji-san's hair. Naoto's breath caught. How sleek Koji-san's hair was. He raked gently upwards and nearly closed his eyes in pleasure as if tasting a luscious pastry. Naturally luxurious this hair was, like Lee's had been, sifting so easily between his fingers, teasing the pads of his fingertips with its soft beauty.

With each slide of his hand into Koji-san's hair, the other man grew calmer. His trembling ebbed to a slight shiver and his breathing, thankfully, began to lose that choked panicky sound of a man in his death throes. It was only then that Naoto felt Koji-san's arms around him, his hands gripping the back of his vest with the force of a man hanging on for his life.

Suddenly, Koji-san released him and sat up. His eyes were wide and still haunted, though he looked more sheepish than anything else. He took a deep breath. "I'm sorry." His gaze darted back and forth and then he looked down, shoulders slouching again. "This has been nothing but a shameful day." One hand came up and raked a second time through his hair.

Naoto sat back on his heels and watched him a moment. "What happened, Koji-san? Perhaps it would help if you tell me about it. That is, if you want to." Some men just needed to unload at first, and he was used to playing the role of simple listener, too.

Koji-san heaved a deep sigh. "I've been forced to go on vacation." Slowly, he looked up, eyes sheepish. "I begged my boss to let me choose a place to go, and he finally agreed. But I had to do it right then and there. He even had those security guards escort me all the way here without letting me stop to get a change of clothes. He knew I'd refuse to take the time otherwise."

"What do you do?"

Koji-san pushed his hands into his hair.

"Software engineer."

"Computers?"

He nodded.

Just as I thought. Not unlike his older brother, Shin, who'd turned out to be a math genius by age five and now did some kind of work for the government he couldn't talk about. Shin was two years older than he was and since Naoto could remember, he'd watched Shin get all kinds of special schooling while his parents let Naoto run wild. Of course, being left alone had its good points. He might never have met Lee if his parents had roped him in the way most parents did. But still…

Naoto gently took hold of Koji-san's wrists. "Well, as long as you're here, I can try to help you." He expected the other man to resist him, but to his surprise, Koji remained passive, letting Naoto draw his hands down to his sides so that he could move in closer and undo more buttons on his shirt. He worked open the second and then the third, trying to ignore the invasion of intense heat in his groin as the opening shirt revealed more smooth golden skin. No undershirt. "You'll see, Koji-san, if you relax and give yourself time to unwind, you'll begin to feel better. That's what I'm here for."

Koji-san made a sound that was somewhere between a huff and a wry chuckle. "I don't know how to relax."

Naoto smiled up at him. "Don't worry. I'll show you how." He undid the last couple of buttons and pulled in another breath. Though Koji-san was a bit too thin, Naoto could see that at the proper weight, the man was shaped like a swimmer or diver. Slim yet finely muscled, v-shaped torso. And those large dark nipples. Naoto's mouth watered to taste them, to feel them pebble against his tongue…

Wordlessly, he lifted one of Koji-san's wrists and undid the cuff, repeating the same with the other one. The tightening in his groin intensified as he slipped the shirt off Koji-san's arms and set it aside. "I would recommend a massage to start with."

Koji-san was staring at him like before, as if just noticing him. "Hai," he said softly. "A massage." He continued to stare at Naoto, letting Naoto undo his belt and the fastening of his slacks.

Naoto swallowed, his throat suddenly dry. He perused Koji-san's toned abdomen down to the waistband of his thoroughly conventional yet still alluring white briefs. It was actually the bulge pushing out the white fabric that inspired the lump in his throat and the itch in his palm to pull down the elastic and let the guy's cock out so he could stroke it. But that would have been pushing, so he distracted himself with removing Koji-san's slippers and socks so he could pull the man's slacks off.

Smiling, he rose up on his knees again and took hold of the open waist of the slacks. "Let's just get these off and then we can begin your massage."

Obediently, Koji-san lifted his ass off the bed enough for Naoto to pull down the slacks and slide them down. It was difficult not to stare at the man's thighs and calves, which, like the rest of him were toned in spite of their needing some weight.

"Should I leave these on?" Koji-san looked up at him and tugged the elastic of his underwear.

Naoto swallowed. It had been awhile since someone had turned him on quite like this. He busied himself with hanging the other man's clothing neatly in the closet. "Only if you wish to, Koji-san. You can leave them on now and remove them later if you want to." He smoothed down the slacks on the hanger and turned around.

And froze.

Koji-san was naked. Wearing nothing but a distraught look on his beautiful face.