Work Text:
Ainosuke was too close, making it difficult for Tadashi to concentrate on what he was saying. His breath was hot against Tadashi's neck, his hands firm on his hips. It wasn't what it looked like, but it was nonetheless far too intimate for Tadashi's failing composure. The distance that had grown between them over the years was painful, but also safer--it was easier not to have thoughts inappropriate for his station when Ainosuke barely looked at him. The third person in the room--currently crouched by Tadashi with a measuring tape pressed against the inside of his thigh--made it feel like some kind of test. But was keeping his cool failing, or succeeding?
"The outfit was unacceptable. If you're going to continue joining me at events you need a better persona. What 'Snake', aren't you my dog?" Ainosuke bodily turned Tadashi this way and that, moving him like a mannequin so that the tailor was the one who had the privilege of staying in one place. When the words penetrated the confused, arousal-tinged fog in Tadashi's mind, he swallowed and glanced down at the tailor. 'S' hadn't been mentioned specifically, nor skating, but it still felt more than strange to hear Ainosuke speaking about it in front of a stranger.
The tailor didn't seem to notice the oddness of Ainosuke's words, busy at his work; that, or he noticed and was being paid enough not to care. Tadashi had, of course, been the one to hire the tailor; he'd been told to find someone discreet, creative, and, above all, "open-minded." He had, at the time, assumed that it was Adam who would be fitted for a new costume. He'd wanted it to be a more pleasant--and less dramatic--event than Adam's last costume change, so he'd looked for someone who catered to more exotic needs. He'd succeeded in finding someone, but after that nothing had gone according to his expectations.
"I hadn't--" Tadashi's voice cracked as the tailor took a measurement rather more intimate than business attire called for. "I hadn't thought you expected me to continue accompanying you to those events." It was as close as Tadashi was willing to come to saying 'no'. Ainosuke--Adam--had regained his love for skating, but it wasn't Tadashi who gave him that; all Tadashi had done was get out of the way. Adam was still very much focused on his Eve, and despite the threat/promise that Tadashi would serve as Ainosuke's dog for the rest of their lives, Tadashi had assumed that forfeiting his beef with Snow had ended his time at 'S.' If not, it was going to complicate his duties behind the scenes; slipping out a few times for the tournament was one thing, regularly skating was another. He would need to hire someone to handle the monitors, a driver, and a pilot--more people aware of 'S,' unless he took some of the more incidental employees from other areas... This was turning into a security nightmare. Thinking about the logistics of it all helped distract him from the feel of Ainosuke's hands on him.
Or it did, until Ainosuke's fingers curled around his throat and tipped his head up. "A pity ears and a tail would look too much like you were copying the little sprout. But a collar..." Ainosuke's hand tightened and Tadashi heard his breathing grow thin and harsh. His head was swimming long before the lack of air actually started to get to him. "You'll wear a collar for me." It wasn't a question.
The tailor's hands stilled, and Tadashi became very aware of his body's inconvenient response. His face went hot and cold in waves, but Ainosuke's hand never moved from his throat. His eyelids fluttered as he fought to breathe, his vision going spotty, but he kept his hands relaxed by his sides, not struggling. The tailor moved on to measuring his arms, never saying a thing about Tadashi's embarrassing reaction, or the fact that he was currently being largely held upright by Ainosuke's hands.
Tadashi managed a jerky nod, even though it increased the pressure on his throat for a moment. Ainosuke eased his grip, stroking Tadashi's throat idly. "Good boy." A full-body shudder ran through Tadashi, and now the tailor coughed disapprovingly. "Hold still," Ainosuke reminded him.
Closing his eyes to block out the sight of himself in the mirror, flushed and panting, only made it worse. Ainosuke's hands, the tailor's hands, too many dispassionate hands on him, and he was strung tight as a wire, every touch setting off a new explosion of sparks in his head. He opened his eyes and set his gaze on the frame of the mirror, not quite looking at the reflection, but more aware of his surroundings. He wrested back a thread of self-control, and let his body go still again. Ainosuke's hand moved away from his throat, and Tadashi tried not to think about the pang of disappointment that he felt in that moment.
After that, the tailor finished his exhaustive and very intimate measurements with alacrity, no doubt wanting to finish before Tadashi's self-control failed him again. When the tailor wanted him to move, Ainosuke moved him. The few times Tadashi instinctively responded to the tailor's instructions himself, bending a knee or spreading his arms, Ainosuke's fingers tangled in his hair and tugged hard enough to draw out involuntary tears. Tadashi accepted that, whatever game Ainosuke was playing here, he wasn't so much a participant as a game piece, so he tuned out the tailor's voice and let his mind drift.
At no point during the discussion that followed did the tailor look directly at Tadashi. They talked about him--about his body, in great detail--but not to him. He was, to an extent, used to it. As Ainosuke's secretary, he was meant to be invisible, overlooked, a resource rather than a person. This felt... different. Every time they discussed some intimate detail about his body--he couldn't imagine how the tailor had gleaned so much by measuring him through his clothes--Tadashi's breath went unsteady for a few inhales before he could get it back under control.
The design that took shape after all this discussion was a thing of tight leather and straps, with accents of fur that hinted at a tail without actually being one. The collar was wide and prominent, not quite so much that Tadashi wouldn't be able to lower his head--compromises had been made for the sake of being able to skate in it--but enough that Tadashi felt like Ainosuke's hands were around his throat again every time he looked at it. He couldn't possibly wear that in public.
He would. If Ainosuke asked it of him. But he couldn't. He would look ridiculous, couldn't possibly pull something like that off.
Every time he opened his mouth, trying to form a coherent argument against this idea, Ainosuke caught his gaze and gave him an unreadable, measuring look. Was this a punishment? A test? Not knowing the answer, Tadashi's ability to say 'no' to Ainosuke drained away and he said nothing. Maybe he'd used up his lifetime's supply of rebellion on his misguided attempts to steer Adam away from skating.
"I'll have a mock-up reading for fittings within the week." Packing up the designs and his notes, the tailor rose to leave. Tadashi shook himself out of his stunned fugue and he started to rise to show the man out, but Ainosuke stood behind him and pushed him back down into the chair with a thump. The tailor bowed shallowly and found his own way to the door, making Tadashi's heart itch at the impoliteness. He needed to arrange for payment. He needed to schedule the tailor's return with the mock-ups. He needed to--
When the door closed behind the tailor, Ainosuke's hand left Tadashi's shoulder and once more curled around his throat. He didn't squeeze this time, only lightly rested his fingers there, but Tadashi could hardly think of anything else. "You've been ruining the line of that suit long enough. Take care of it."
Tadashi's brain was slow to catch up to Ainosuke's meaning, but when it did he felt his face flush crimson. "Here?" He knew the answer--Ainosuke showed no sign of letting him get up to leave--but he still felt the need to ask, inanely, hopefully. A little desperately.
"Get on with it. Don't waste my time."
No further questioning was allowed, then. Ainosuke's time was valuable. Tadashi's dignity was not. That much, at least, had not changed in the tentative new peace between them. Face hot with shame, Tadashi spread his legs a bit for better access and opened his fly. Slipping his hand into his pants, Tadashi felt the swell of the erection he'd been trying, and failing, to ignore. It hardened further under the slight touch, and precome coated Tadashi's fingers within a few strokes. He looked down numbly at the building wet spot--forget the 'line' of the trousers, the trousers themselves would be ruined soon--but Ainosuke's thumb was stroking his throat and the heat was building and he couldn't stop at this point, even if he wanted to.
Ainosuke's hand was cool and steady on his neck. Tadashi couldn't see him, but he could imagine the faintly bored, utterly unmoved look on his face. He chose not to evaluate why that mental image sent a pulse of arousal straight to his cock. What would it take to earn Ainosuke's interest? What was he looking for from this?
Tadashi's hand faltered. There was nothing interesting about him, about how he... did this; it was, to put it bluntly, a process that was merely efficient. Biting his lip, Tadashi arched up off the chair enough to press his erection against his hand, chasing the illusion that it was someone else's hand, someone more interesting (he refused to even think a name). He kept his hand still, rutting against it rather than stroking himself, and heard a faint 'hm' from behind him. Not an interested noise, not quite, but it was the first reaction he'd gotten out of Ainosuke, and it wasn't an order to stop.
Letting his head fall back--not far enough to touch Ainosuke's leg, how could he dare--Tadashi closed his eyes and fell further into the fantasy. The hand wrapped around his cock at last, working in slow, almost idle strokes, from tip to base and back. The traces of precome not quite enough lubrication to ease the friction--it was just uncomfortable enough to keep him frustratingly on the edge. A thumb pressed hard on the sensitive spot just under the head, almost to the point of pain, and Tadashi let loose the moan he'd been holding back since the first moment Ainosuke's hand wrapped around his throat.
That hand on his neck paused in its absent-minded stroking, and slowly slid up to his jaw, to his lips. And then Ainosuke's fingers were in his mouth, pressing down on his tongue, and Tadashi would have to bite them to close his mouth again. No longer able to bite his lip or clench his jaw, Tadashi found he couldn't hold back any sounds at all. He moaned, and he gasped, and every sound came out wet, garbled, embarrassingly raw. The faintly salty taste of Ainosuke's skin was in his mouth made him want to wrap his tongue around those fingers and suck, but he couldn't quite bring himself to take such liberties.
The hand on his cock moved faster now, movements jerky with impatience. He rolled his hips into the strokes, his smooth-soled shoes fighting for purchase on the floor as he lifted himself almost completely off the chair with every thrust.
Tadashi felt a trickle of drool slide from the corner of his mouth, and had a sudden mental flash of what he must look like right now. Heat rose up his neck and he might have protested, but Ainosuke's fingers were still in his mouth and all that came out was another unintelligible moan. A few more hard, quick jerks and Tadashi came into his hand, into his trousers, to the sound of Ainosuke murmuring "Good boy" into his ear. The fingers left his mouth and he swallowed, the taste of Ainosuke's skin lingering tantalizingly.
Then the warmth of another body was gone from behind him, and Tadashi watched in a daze as Ainosuke walked over to his desk like nothing had happened. And, lest Tadashi imagine that he would be excused to clean himself up, Ainosuke tapped Tadashi's leather agenda where it sat on the corner of the desk. "Let's go over tomorrow's schedule."
Reluctantly, Tadashi zipped himself back up, hyper-aware of every brush of fabric over his sensitive skin. His legs were shaky for a moment when he first stood, and the cooling evidence of his orgasm was a constant reminder of what had happened. He was only barely able to focus on his work, most of the time, and then he'd move wrong and a shiver of shame or pleasure or something in between would go down his spine. He couldn't tell whether Ainosuke really didn't notice his sudden stutters or the way heat rushed to his cheeks, or if he was choosing to ignore them. Either way, the work eventually got done and Tadashi was free to escape, if not very far.
The walk back to his quarters felt endless, his breath coming in nervous little gasps at the thought of running into any of the servants. If they saw him like this... but it was late, and no one else was still up and about; he made it back without incident. The moment the door to his quarters was closed behind him, Tadashi leaned against it and let his knees go to jelly. He slid down the surface of the door until he was sitting on the floor, eyes closed as his head thumped against the door behind him. Pressing the heel of his hand against the still-damp spot in his trousers, Tadashi was appalled to feel his cock stiffening again already; when he licked his lips, he imagined he could still taste Ainosuke on them.
With a self-mocking little laugh, he once again unzipped his fly and reached into his trousers. "Woof."