Detective Conan/Magic Kaito

(This is a misleading title, it is in fact yukata porn. Gasp misrepresenting the Japanese culture I am gleefully porning over. Light cotton summer kimono thing =/= kimono! D: it just sounded better okay.)
(and while i'm at it, hakama: that pleated pant-skirt thing people wear over a kimono. Or a yukata. Fundoshi: that traditional men's underwear thing made from a single length of cloth, that's basically just a little pouch thing for the frontal manbits and a twisty rope thing up the crack of the ass. Sometimes there'll be a little apronny cloth hanging from the front, sometimes not. Mm.)
Also, unreliable narrator. Saguru has issues on his issues. Also, porn. Woohoo gay porn.

Swingersverse: Unrepentant Kimono Porn

Hakuba Saguru had come prepared. After so many years tracking Kid heists all over Japan and a couple of other countries, he knew better than not to plan for things going south in a spectacular, yet highly original way.

The problem was, both his carry-on and the back-up package he had left at the train station had been contaminated.

He was alone in Osaka, late enough in the evening that all Laundromats and department stores were closed. National holiday, major festival; his hotel room wouldn't be free until tomorrow morning at six -- seeing how late heists and debriefing ran, it hadn't seemed worth it to search for anything that would be freed earlier, not that he would have been likely to find it.

He was too respectful of the other passengers and too aware of the stink to take a bus. He was going to reach the heist site still dirty and already exhausted.

And the left wheel of his suitcase was starting to stick.


Saguru stopped walking, head jerking up. On the other side of the road, a young man was standing in the open door of a conbini, a plastic bag in hand.

Hm. Messy hair. Blue eyes. That face. A passing, weary thought of since when does Kuroba-kun wear tanktops?

The next second he was stalking his way across the street, dragging his suitcase, stuck wheel and all. "YOU."

"Ah." A faint smirk stretched that familiar mouth, and he nodded toward the liberal splatters of mud all over Saguru's clothes. "I thought it had to be Kid's fault."

Saguru came to a stop a couple of steps away from the other young man, brows furrowed. This had to be a trap. "Oh, truly."

"The mud is mostly dry, so it's been a while. You could have found a lot of public restrooms to change in the meantime... If you had anything left to change with. And I don't see you of all people forgetting to bring a change of clothes, so the change of clothes must have gotten mysteriously lost."

"Don't tell me you claim to be Kudo-kun."

"Brilliant deduction, Detective." Supposedly-Kudo saluted him with his bag. There were plastic bottles inside, soda. "I'm visiting Hattori. He lives on the next block over."

Saguru had gotten sufficiently turned around that he didn't think it was an impossibility -- besides, it was too easily checked out. So, Hattori-kun's house likely was nearby. So?

He smiled, with teeth. "I have to admit it's pretty rare to see you with such windblown air, Kudo-kun. Do they sell electric fans in that store?"

He'd expected at least a flicker of 'oh crap.' Perhaps no visible reaction at all, save for a faint, 'I know what you're talking about but I won't admit to it' smile.

"... Oh, that."

Was Kudo... reddening? Saguru stared in bafflement as he awkwardly reached up to flatten his hair into an approximation of its usual well-combed state.

"We were roughhousing. With Hei--Hattori. I forgot to ... Ah, it's not as if I'm very presentable right now anyway," he said with a long sigh, waving at himself. Not only was he wearing a tanktop instead of the usual button-up shirts and polos, but his pants were haphazardly rolled up to his calves and his feet were in flip-flops. It was the most informal Saguru had ever heard of Kudo-kun being.

If he was indeed Kudo-kun.

"Ah well. Come on. Heiji can vouch for me, and you can borrow clothes."

Saguru weighed his options. It could still be one of Kid's traps -- luring him somewhere to stuff him in those clothes he had left in place of Saguru's, since Saguru wasn't cooperating and wearing them on his own. ... but if Kid had wanted to force him in them, he would have done so right away, and it wasn't his type to forcibly crossdress people away from the heist site in the first place. Unless he planned to knock him out and then move him...

Sighing, Saguru fell into step with Kudo-kun. "I assume he has a means of recognizing you that Kid couldn't possibly find out?"

"Well, the bastard is resourceful, but ... Let's say it's fresh enough I'd be damn surprised if he did."

Saguru frowned. "What is?"

"... Bruise. And here we are."

Well. Hattori-kun's house was certainly impressive. It was big, and in the traditional Japanese style -- something Saguru wasn't extremely familiar with.

"Are you certain...?" he asked -- in his experience, invitation to someone's home in Japan were much less common than in England, and this wasn't even Kudo-kun's house.

"They won't mind," Kudo-kun replied, and opened the door. "I'm back!"

Saguru hesitated on the doorstep for a second, wondering how often he came to visit, that he behaved more like a resident than a guest. Well, Kudo-kun and Hattori-kun were supposed to be close friends.

"So, are you coming or not?" Kudo-kun asked, as he toed off his flip-flops and bounded up on the highly polished wooden floor on bare feet. Saguru looked down at himself, painfully aware of how dirty and stinky he was, and how likely he was to make a mess.

There wasn't much of a choice. With a sigh, he stepped in and bent down to take off his shoes. Dry mud fell off his jacket in little clouds.

Kudo was wincing when he chanced a glance upward. "Hand over the jacket. I'll get it to the washing machine."

Saguru extracted himself from his splattered vest and folded it inside out. "I advise you to shake it out of the window first," he said dryly.

"No kidding," Kudo-kun replied, and turned around to leave, bare toes splayed for traction on dark wood, compact muscles shifting under his skin down the back of his calves.

Saguru blinked. Definitely a regular in the Hattori household.

Unless he was Kid, he reminded himself, because Kid was that shameless just about anywhere.

He beat as much dust off his pants as he could, put on guest slippers, and stepped up into the house proper. "Forgive me for the intrusion..."

Kudo-kun was back in a minute, sans vest, the plastic bag swinging from his hand. "Come on, let's go through there, there's a porch that goes around."

He was glad to follow, quickly crossing an empty room and exiting the house proper again. The porch ran along the wall, allowing him to admire the garden, also traditionally Japanese and uncommonly beautiful. Someone had spent a lot of time and care on that garden, and he once again felt a little out of place, uninvited guest that he was.

The porch bridged a gap between the house and another, rectangular building. He followed Kudo-kun to that door, not very surprised to recognize, as it slid open, that it was a dojo.

The young man currently swinging a wooden sword down in a perfect arc was more of a surprise. Not because he was unrecognizable as Hattori Heiji.

He just wasn't recognizable as the Hattori Heiji Saguru knew. Gone was the loudmouth who couldn't stop to think. That man was all precision and control.

He'd dispensed with the head and shoulder protector, since he was practicing alone and not sparring with someone, but he still wore the chest-plate and armored gloves, dark and sleek as they encased his hands. A lock of black hair stuck to his face, and his skin shone with sweat.

"Just in time," Kudo-kun commented, as Hattori-kun swept his sword in a last, disemboweling arc, and came to a stop. Breathing hard, he sketched a bow that felt as much part of the routine as the previous steps, and turned to look at them, eyebrows up in open curiosity.

His face scrunched up slightly upon recognizing Saguru, and he felt his own slide back into neutral.

Which implied Saguru had had a different expression a second ago, one he hadn't paid attention to, and he couldn't do much about it but hope it hadn't shown too much. That would be embarrassing.

"My apologies for the imposition, Hattori-kun." He sneaked a glance at Kudo-kun, but he seemed content to lean against the doorjamb and watch without interference. "As you can see, I ran afoul of Kid ahead of schedule. Kudo-kun assured me--"

"Yeah, yeah. You need a wash and clothes." Hattori-kun shrugged, resting his sword on his shoulder casually. "You're in luck, got a hot bath ready and waiting. That way."

"But you've been exercising," Saguru opposed, the politeness drilled into him even though he suddenly craved a hot, steaming bath down to the marrow of his bones.

"But, my mom would chase me up and down the dojo until nothing was left but sweat and tears if I didn't let a guest go first, so hurry up, hurry up. I still gotta cool down anyway."

Saguru blinked -- at his tolerant, amused tone more than at the picture his words made. Hattori-kun was smiling, just a bit. Saguru offered a faint smile back, nodded his head, and allowed himself to cross the dojo for the door that hid the waiting bath.

Strange to see him so relaxed in Saguru's presence. He knew he got on Hattori-kun's nerves -- then again, it was mutual. Perhaps Hattori-kun was willing to let it go outside of cases... Saguru reflected that he would need to make the attempt to do the same, if only because he owed the young man for his hospitality.

The bath looked heavenly. Steaming water rose from a deep wooden tub. Saguru got rid of his clothes in seconds, only barely folded them, and started scrubbing under the shower as vigorously as he could. He couldn't wait to be clean enough to sink in the tub and soak the exhaustion out of his bones.

He rinsed off, mud swirling away into the drain under him, scrubbed again, rinsed a second time. There; the water ran clear now. Done.

He'd forgotten to ask Hattori-kun to check whether Kudo-kun truly was Kudo-kun. He closed his eyes and sank in the bath up to his chin, too-long, gaijin-sized legs bent up against his chest. It could wait.

"Ya done with the shower?"

Saguru didn't slip under the surface, but that was because he didn't have the space. Tensing up, he looked to the door. Hattori-kun had taken off the armor and the gloves, but he still wore the kimono and pleated hakama he'd had on underneath. Though the kimono looked somewhat in disarray, frontal V dipping almost to his stomach -- ah.

Curse the Japanese lack of body modesty. Then again, he was being unfair, some English schools and sports clubs had common locker rooms and open showers as well.

He'd just never used any.

The tub was deep; the water was dark. And he was sure Hattori-kun wouldn't be looking anyway.

It wasn't like he could turn away without being completely obvious about it, so he gazed ahead at the tiles, and pretended he couldn't catch glimpses of Hattori-kun undressing -- the sudden slide and fall of his hakama, the way he shrugged the kimono off his shoulders and let it slip down his arms, only to hang at his elbows as he swore and picked up the hakama to fold properly. His back was turned on Saguru, so that he could see nothing untoward from mid-back to knee, the view blocked as it was by thick cloth.

Just enough to see another V, this time of dorsal muscles, making dips and hollows under that tanned skin. Just enough to spark his imagination.

Traditional Japanese clothes were supposed to be worn without underwear. Saguru doubted Hattori-kun cared one whit about showing panty-lines, especially if it would be covered by the hakama and armor, but he couldn't get that little tidbit out of his head for a too-long moment. No, wait, if he truly wanted to be traditional then he'd be wearing fundoshi, wouldn't he?

Saguru closed his eyes and attempted to look like he was relaxing, didn't -- didn't, didn't -- listen to the rustles of clothes nearby, the hiss of the showerhead, water droplets on skin -- didn't wonder if he could learn to interpret echoes to read the shape of him.

This was so ridiculously inappropriate he had no words for it. His guard was in tatters after the day he'd had.

First Kudo's attire and now, of all people, that hothead Hattori.

The door slid open with a woosh. "Clothes, Hakuba-kun," said Kudo-kun.

He turned his head to look toward his voice without thinking. Ah. Buttocks. Water running down them in rivulets. "... Yes?"

Kudo-kun arched an eyebrow at him and his no doubt uncharacteristic slowness. " I'll take your clothes and get them in the wash with your coat, maybe they'll be dry for the heist."

He stepped inside and picked up Saguru's dirty clothes. Saguru told himself he hadn't sneaked a quick glance to the side to verify what Saguru had been looking at.

"... Be back in a minute." Snap, door sliding closed.

He had.

Saguru breathed out and tilted his head back to rest on the edge of the tub. Ah, never mind. Plausible deniability. It could be morbid fascination born from a repressed, isolated childhood.

It sort of was.

It sort of wasn't. Not only. Not by far.

"D'you get here on foot from the train station?"

Saguru grunted an affirmative, eyes firmly closed.

"Huh. You could take a nap before the heist, I guess. Gotta need it by now."

Damn it, why did he have to feel sociable now, when Saguru wanted nothing more than to curl up around his stupid groin until it calmed down. But he was a guest, and Hattori-kun had no way to know of his inappropriate little problem. "Ah. Thank you for the offer, but I should get there early enough to get the lay of the land. I studied the maps and floor plans, but that doesn't compensate enough."

Hattori-kun snorted, disbelieving. "It's Kaitou Kid. Is it ever enough?"

Saguru flinched, and opened his eyes to glare, annoyed enough to forget his embarrassment. Hattori stood facing him, unselfconscious, hands and hair disappearing in shampoo foam. A few trails of the same white foam were lazily making their way down the planes of his flat stomach.

"Chill, I didn't mean it in a bad way. Just there's no way you can follow him when he goes ping-ponging off walls. Doesn't matter much where the walls are."

"By that logic, there is nowhere--" A big glob of foam fell from Hattori's forehead, glanced off a nipple, and left a white trail on his thigh. Saguru wrenched his eyes away. "... Never mind. You have your tactics and I have mine."

"... Huh."

He gritted his teeth. "Yes?"

"Sorry. Was just shooting the breeze. Wasn't saying your ideas suck. Mine are pretty much 'show up on time, see what happens'. I mostly go to keep Kudo company."

Mollified, Saguru relaxed against the tub again. "Kid's... slipperiness... is something of a sore points in all regulars of the Task Force, I'm afraid."

Hattori-kun chuckled. "Worse than a bar of soap under yer foot."


Eyes closed, feeling the bath's warmth seep into him, he listened to Hattori-kun rinse off. It was only when the water cut off that he remembered. "Ah, sorry, did you want the tub?"

"Nah, I'm good. Take your time. Need it more."

But of course after Hattori had dressed and left, Saguru felt too guilty to keep enjoying it. With a sigh, he dragged himself out of the bath and found a towel to dry off.

A knock at the door startled him. He wrapped the towel around his hips. "Yes?"

"Got you a yukata," Kudo-kun replied.

"Ah, thank you."

Kudo apparently took it as a 'please come in', because the next second he was sliding the door open and stepping in. Saguru's, ah, interest had flagged down, but one look from those piercing eyes and he almost -- it felt as if Kudo-kun could tell anyway, for a second, could see every single thought he should feel guilty about and since he was going to drag them out inch by inch anyway it would be a relief to give in, talk and get it over with. Saguru had the sudden thought that if this effect was common, it explained a great deal about his success rate with obtaining criminal confessions.

Slowly, Kudo put the cream-colored square of folded cloth he was holding onto a waiting bench. Saguru waited, hair dripping in his eyes, and hoped he wasn't going to say anything.


Saguru's hands tightened on the towel.

Kudo smirked. "Decided whether I'm Kid or not yet?"

He walked out before Saguru could figure out an answer other than glowering at him.

"You can ask Hattori when you're done here," Kudo-kun called back, and slid the door closed.

Scowling, Saguru pulled off the towel and rubbed his hair dry -- or dryer, at any rate -- and then picked up the yukata. It was quality, of course, almost new, without patterns. He belted it firmly at his waist and stomped to the door to the dojo.

Hattori-kun and Kudo-kun were waiting for him a few feet away -- Hattori in a knee-length yukata of his own, with a pattern of tigers curling up his thighs, Kudo still in his rolled-up pants and tanktop, and why was he noticing again ... or perhaps they were just talking together, but when he walked out they fell silent to look at him in unison. It was so strange he froze there, on the doorstep, watched them both in turn.


They exchange a look.

"I've got to phone Ran," said Kudo apropos of nothing -- or so it seemed, but then he threw Hattori a pointed glance and said, "Kazuha?"

"Hey, I told you, this ain't the category she needs ta be called about."

Now didn't that sound innocently obscure of them. Saguru looked from one to the other for clues about the topic.

Kudo was staring at Hattori, a little 'that doesn't add up' frown on his face. "Huh. So you're free to get as many as you want?"

"In theory, yeah? Heh." Hattori grinned at his friend. "It's lack of interest, Kudo, not opportunity."

By now Saguru could tell it was a deliberate code to lock him out of the conversation.

"Huh," said Kudo.

"If you want veto rights too, we're gonna haveta talk 'bout that."

"Alright, but not now," Kudo replied, and glanced back at Saguru. He raised his phone. "Do you mind?"

Saguru blinked. Why should he need to approve of Kudo-kun making a call? "Ah, go ahead."

The smile that bloomed on his face then was almost predatory, and for a long second Saguru was persuaded that this was indeed Kid in disguise and that he'd somehow suborned Hattori-kun, convinced him to take his side. And then Kudo aimed his phone and snapped a picture.

Of Saguru.

"Wait, what are you --" The little jingle of a mail sent propelled him across the mats, and he grabbed Kudo's hand to tilt the phone screen toward him. "What did you just...?!"

To: Ran.
Subject: Please?

Underneath was nothing but that picture of Saguru himself, with damp blond hair sticking to his neck and water droplets soaking through the cotton cloth, lips parted in the second before speech.

It was as if suddenly there was a wall in the path of his mind, and his thoughts were stopped cold and couldn't do a thing but stumble drunkenly around, dazed by the impact.

Kudo-kun extracted his hand from Saguru's calmly. "By the way, Hattori, he needs you to vouch for me not being Kid."

Hattori-kun gave a startled blink and quirked an eyebrow. "Why on Earth would he think...?"

"Let's just say Kid has proved to have a predilection for my face." Kudo-kun shrugged, deliberately neutral. "I'd be wary too."

Saguru knew for sure then that Kudo had seen Kid's real face -- or close enough to notice the extraordinary resemblance to his own. This wasn't the expression of someone who had deducted it from Saguru's own broad hints. He spared a brief thought to hoping they could share info, later, if only to consolidate their deductions.

Then his mind hit another wall just as it was starting to pick up speed. Hattori-kun had just lifted the side of Kudo-kun's tanktop. He had a smallish bruise over his hip, the color a deep red just starting to purple. A bruise of a most peculiar shape...

... Hickey, was where his mind went, because it hadn't strayed far from there, and he almost dismissed it for being born of his own bias until he realized he'd guessed right.


Hickey. Kudo-kun's uncharacteristically messy hair. His using Hattori-kun's first name, one or two times. ...Hattori-kun's surprisingly pleasant disposition, maybe? Endorphins could explain much of that, and those didn't come only from prolonged exercise. And now they -- what? He trusted in his deductions but he must have missed something.

"... I really would appreciate an actual explanation right now."

"Sure. The coloration of the bruise indicates it was made over three to five hours ago," Kudo-kun replied, watching him with heavy-lidded eyes. "Before or around lunch. We were in each other's company from the time I arrived into town yesterday to shortly after lunch, where Hattori started his pre-training meditation."

The subtext was so clear in Kudo's words that Saguru would have been less embarrassed to hear it out loud. Kudo-or-Kid (though he'd stopped thinking that theory likely some time ago) had spent the night with -- slept with -- Hattori. And that was the definite proof -- the thief wouldn't do that, he'd have knocked Hattori-kun out long before it got that far and the Detective of the West would have clued in upon waking up.

Saguru didn't want to think about what 'that far' represented in that context. "That is not what I was asking--"

"And hey!" Hattori-kun had moved behind him while he was distracted, too close, too cheerful; he couldn't help but interpret it as mocking -- his slowness of mind, his prudishness, he didn't know. "Could be makeup. Kid likes that, right?" And before Saguru could sidestep, he took his wrist where it emerged from the yukata sleeve and guided it forward.

Saguru stared down at his fingers, which had somehow fit themselves to Kudo's hip, following the curve. His thumb twitched, an aborted rubbing gesture, as if wanting to truly test the potential for makeup.

As if just wanting to caress.

Kudo's hips were so narrow, and the bruise so dark on his skin.

"And what kinda explanation d'you need for your other question, really?" said Hattori quietly, dropping all pretenses of investigation. His hand was still on Saguru's wrist, not really pressing Saguru's hand to Kudo-kun's hip, just resting there. Callused fingers on his skin.

When Saguru turned his head to look at him, he found him peering over his shoulder, very close, green eyes starting to gleam with predatory interest.

"It's easy. You want to, or you don't."

A cell phone trilled. Kudo gave the screen a small, fond smile, and turned it to face them.

From: Ran
Subject: :-)
Message: Same exchange rate as usual!

It was, Saguru deduced, a yes.

An unconcerned, rather flippant one. One which seemed to request... more photographs?

Alright -- this wasn't funny anymore.

The two of them had girlfriends, with whom they appeared to enjoy perfectly satisfactory relationships. And as for their needs, they had what seemed a Significant Other-sanctioned mutually beneficial arrangement. Neither of them had ever seemed interested in him in that way, not before they noticed his own ... lapse. None of the evidence spelled much better than this being a -- no need to mince words -- pity fuck; and considering that he'd never felt Kudo-kun considered them to be equals and that he and Hattori-kun had a long history of mutual annoyance that borderer on antagonism, it might even spell worse.

You Poor Dear pity sex would already be awful, but You're So Needy It's Amusing sex would be worse.

"... Oi, Hakuba?"

Hattori-kun was still staring at him over his shoulder, but it was more puzzled than hunting now. Thrown off-stride. Good. Turnabout was fair play. "Shh. Thinking."

He stared at Hattori-kun, his quizzical frown, his quirked eyebrow -- that expected flash of startled annoyance when Saguru shushed him.

... He knew his own reasoning was slanted. He didn't truly believe that Hattori-kun was such a cruel person. He'd have to be somewhat sadistic, and evidence hinted the other way. Kudo-kun... No, Kudo was sarcastic, but he dismissed the people he didn't respect from his presence and attention, he didn't bully them.

Saguru still didn't want to be toyed with.

"What happens if I say no?" he asked, just to check.

Kudo-kun's laser-focus stare didn't waver, but Hattori-kun's hand immediately fell off his wrist, freeing his hand. His expression cooled, distant and -- disappointed? (Hurt? No, that wouldn't make sense.)

"... Well, then. Whatever. Never mind. Sucks to be you."

Saguru caught his wrist before he could step out of range, turning to face him, stare at him head on. His voice dropped, quieter, more intense; he didn't mean it to, but it happened anyway, please, I'm serious, listen to me. "You don't even like me, Hattori-kun." He sighed. "And if it's just about wanting sex, I was led to believe you and Kudo-kun ..."

"I like you," said Kudo.

Saguru's head whipped around to stare at him. From the corner of his eye he could see Hattori, staring almost as hard as he was. It wasn't exactly flattering but at least it confirmed his own perceptions.

"Truly," Saguru said, as neutrally as possible to avoid making it a question -- though it was one anyway.

Kudo-kun rolled his eyes at him, but the expression was more amused than mocking. "Yes, really. You're kind of arrogant and snarky, but... That's not exactly a turn-off for me."

"Ah." It was extremely disquieting how much he wanted to read more into it, how much he wanted Kudo to say more -- and how much he couldn't stop himself from reading 'because I find you amusing' into it, which when he wasn't trying to be amusing wasn't exactly flattering.

"Also," Kudo-kun said, more quietly, soberly, "You tried to protect Conan."

Oh. ...oh.

"I ... have the strange feeling that back then you didn't appreciate the attempt so much," he replied, his cautious smile growing wider with Kudo's reaction -- first a flash of 'uh, well, er, not really' and then a sharp turn into 'wait a minute.'

"Back then?" Kudo-kun asked, likely to make sure of Saguru's meaning. Saguru couldn't help but chuckle. He could play on his doubt a little longer, or...

"Well. It's a good thing you are now tall enough not to make this extremely disturbing."

He could see Kudo-kun processing that comment. He could have let him finish. But there was that tanktop whose bottom was still flipped up, baring a long band of skin at the waist, and then there was his hand, cautiously brushing a finger along Kudo's unbruised hipbone, seeing as the hand that had touched the bruise earlier was still wrapped around Hattori-kun's wrist.

Hattori wasn't trying to get free. Saguru could feel the weight of his eyes on him, but it was different now, not a mulish stare but something whose echo he could read in the quickening pulse under his fingers.

"So," Hattori bit out as he stepped forward, right against him, "So as we're clear. That a yes?"

Green eyes, dark with suspicion, a hint of anger. Desire. Pupils blown wide. Inky hair falling across dark skin.

He didn't like Hattori and it was mutual, he was sure of it, but -- "Yes." -- Saguru would believe Kudo was playing head games long before he would believe it of Hattori. And Kudo was much too devoted to the truth for that. "...Yes."

There were lips on the back of his neck, a hand on his chest. Oh hell, he was caught between them and he wasn't done thinking it out, why had he let that slip out --


Hands on his sides, his hips, slipping around him from both the front and the back. Warmth, male scents.

It hadn't slipped out, he'd meant it. He still meant it.

He found one of Hattori's hands on his stomach and guided it to the slit of his collar, until fingers found his skin. Anchored his other hand on Kudo's hip, tugged Kudo forward into him.

God. Yes. He meant it.

He glanced down. Hattori's hand had disappeared in the top of his yukata; his fingers rubbed across a nipple, making Saguru's breath hitch, and again as Hattori went back and pinched, added a hint of teeth to his kisses. Saguru's hips shifted back to press against his without thought; he felt Hattori's cock and froze, self-conscious, the words 'begging for it' making a short, nasty visit to the edge of his mind.

Kudo's fingers slipped in his hair, laced together at the back of his head, and pulled Saguru down to meet his mouth. Saguru groaned into the kiss, startled. He hadn't expected either of them to kiss him. It felt nice. (Comforting.) The tip of Kudo's tongue traced his bottom lip, nudged its way in, just barely; Saguru was kissing back on blind instinct almost immediately.

Hands on him, over the yukata and under it, Kudo's hands rubbing a slow, back-and-forth path along his belt, on his hips, just over his ass, Hattori's hands making their way down to his stomach.

The only thing stopping him from being naked right now was the belt. The thought caught him; his breath hitched, pulse jumping. Hattori made an inquisitive noise and peered over his shoulder. Saguru didn't want him to ask, to say anything; his mouth broke away from Kudo's for Hattori's. He had to crane his neck, it ached a bit, but when Hattori started to lean back in surprise Saguru nipped at him so he'd stay right there. Hattori growled in his mouth and kissed back, arms tightening around his body.

"I'll go get a towel for the floor," Kudo-kun told them, an amused laugh vibrating in the back of his voice. Hattori-kun made a noise of acknowledgement and grabbed the edges of Saguru's yukata to yank him around so they'd be face to face.

He visibly hadn't planned on the fact that Saguru was taller than he was, and that the angle favored him; Saguru smirked faintly against his mouth and took control of the kiss, deepening it, nudging him a step back toward the wall. Hattori growled again, hands sliding around his waist, cupping his ass. Saguru couldn't swallow his groan in time, and now Hattori was the one who was smirking, damn it.

He backed Hattori-kun against the wall, and a second later an ankle was catching his own and the whole dojo whirled around them. "Damn," he whispered, half annoyance in and half amusement, his own shoulder blades pressed against the panel. He should probably have expected that.

Hattori gave a smug little huff and squeezed his ass through the cloth, thumbs slipping under his belt and giving a little tug. Saguru's hands tightened on his shoulders at the thought that the knot might slip loose. Bracing against the wall, he attempted to flip their positions again, but Hattori stopped his own momentum by planting an elbow in the wall and shoving back. Good footwork, Saguru couldn't help but notice, even as he attempted to copy the move before he was pinned again.

"Back -- are you making out or wrestling?"

Hattori-kun laughed against his neck, a little puff of air that distracted Saguru briefly. The question, though...

"Making out," he replied, "because otherwise..."

He swept Hattori-kun's feet out from under him, accompanied his weight to the ground to soften the impact.

"Otherwise, I do have a black belt in judo," he finished, one knee on the floor by Hattori-kun's hip, still holding onto his sleeve; he knew he looked smug, bordering on gloating, and so what.

Hattori's eyes were burning when Saguru looked away from an amused Kudo and down at him.

Kudo ambled closer, nudging Hattori's side with his bare foot. "Oi, Hattori. You can spar later. Sex now."

"Aw, come on, Kudo..." Hattori pushed himself up, and Saguru regretted it briefly -- he'd looked especially gorgeous on his back, hair in disarray. But then his hand slipped up Saguru's sleeve, caught his elbow, and Saguru was mimicking the hold without thought, helping him sit up.

The inside of the elbow wasn't considered particularly erogenous or even all that interesting in Europe. Perhaps he'd developed more of a Japanese sense of aestheticism, finally, because the image was strangely appealing, that and the fact that he couldn't see either his or Hattori's hands, lost in wide yukata sleeves, just their forearms and their contrasting skin tones.

Kudo-kun's toe nudged him in the hip. Saguru's head jerked up, cheeks heating when he realized he'd been staring a bit too long.

"Ah. My apologies."

"Don't apologize for him bein' bossy, we'll be here all day."

"Oi," Kudo-kun protested, narrowing his eyes, and nudged Hattori-kun again.

"Watch the deadly weaponry there, Kudo," he teased, hand catching his ankle. Saguru saw his thumb rub the inside of Kudo's leg, a comfortable, affectionate gesture, and almost wanted to look away. The problem was that when he did, it was mostly upwards from his foot, and Saguru just happened to be at eye level to notice that the fabric of Kudo-kun's pants was... not at rest.

He leaned forward, an easy movement, smooth and unhurried. He slipped his fingers up Kudo-kun's tanktop to lift it up, shifted his weight forward onto his knee. It didn't seem to require any thought.

He liked the way Kudo-kun stopped breathing there for a second, with Saguru's mouth against the hollow of his hip. He only felt a prickle of self-consciousness afterwards, but it died a quick death with Hattori's strangled little groan.

It was tempting to leave a hickey to match the first. He didn't, just shifted closer to the center and kissed his skin again. Flat belly, tight muscles.

The space between his bellybutton and the waistband of his jeans was narrow. There was an obvious solution, though.

Kudo-kun let out a shaky breath when the first button slipped free. Saguru tilted his head to kiss the little vee of bared skin.

A rustle of cotton cloth behind him and then there were bare knees bracketing his legs, and arms sliding around his waist and briefly tightening there. Hattori's chin was heavy on his shoulder. "Keep going," he rasped, and then his hands were running down Saguru's hips, squeezing, kneading the inside of his thighs. He shifted his weight back into Hattori so that he could free the cloth of Saguru's yukata from under his knees, push it open.

Rough hands. Calluses. A powerful grip. He yanked the second and third buttons of Kudo's jeans free, mouth pressing against his cock through his underwear. Hattori's hands were moving up, clenching and relaxing and clenching again just that little inch higher.

"--Ah." He didn't know how to bring it up. He didn't even really want to bring it up. Not with Kudo's cock under his lips, Hattori's against his ass, both only separated by one thin layer of cloth. But he had to, and it was pretty much now or never.

Well, in doubt, be blunt.


He could feel them both freezing. Then Kudo groaned in dismay and Hattori slapped his own forehead.

"Damn it. Don't have any, Kazuha's on the pill."

"Ran too," Kudo-kun replied. He sounded like he was speaking through clenched teeth.

"Ah." He breathed against that cock he hadn't even gotten to see yet, swallowed. Disappointment was harsh. "Nowhere in the house? Not even for the -- the mess?"

"That's what shower sex is for!" Hattori-kun retorted, frustration clear in his voice. "Aw, hell." He bumped his forehead against Saguru's shoulder in lieu of a wall.

Kudo-kun raked both hands through his hair, staring down at the two of them in intense concentration.

"... Look. We. We've never, except Kazuha and Ran and each other. And they've never... So we know we're clean. If you can trust that. And you...?"

Hakuba breathed out, slowly relaxing into Hattori-kun's chest. "... There've been no... opportunities."

"Oh thank fuck," Hattori said, arms tightening hard around his waist. He kissed Saguru's neck, immediately turned it into nibbles, latched onto his earlobe until Saguru was sure it would be red when he was done.

"So no risky behavior -- apart from the spontaneous threesome?" Saguru asked, an irrepressible smile on his lips, as he tugged Kudo closer by the belt loops.

Hattori laughed -- groaned, something in between. Kudo huffed out in mock affront, obligingly shifting back in range. "Well, there's all those Division One orgies..."

Saguru closed his eyes tightly. "... I'll thank you not to put images of Megure-keibu and orgies together in my head ever again."

Hattori-kun grimaced. "Ow, my hard-on."

Saguru bit his lip to keep from smiling. Strange how much less annoying and more amusing Hattori-kun was when he was molded against Saguru's back, rocking slowly against him. Saguru shifted a little against him, to feel his hard length pressing against him. Nice. Perhaps he ought to get rid of that belt soon...

He leaned in and mouthed Kudo-kun through his boxers again, feeling a hand settle cautiously on his head.

He'd had dreams like this -- boys without a face, just male hips and male scent and a very, very male part, and his mouth on them. He tugged the boxers down, his lips immediately seeking infinitely soft skin.

He kissed it, the shaft, the head, mouth opening wetly, up and down and everywhere he could reach, slid down to his balls -- barely any hair, not that he would have minded much -- went back up, mouthing and tasting, and purring when he felt it harden against his lips.

"Gorgeous," he whispered, and took the tip inside his mouth.

Heat. He fancied he could feel the beat of blood there, just under the head, when he pressed the tip of his tongue. He took a few seconds to appreciate it before he dipped his head lower, purring again as a couple more inches of the shaft passed his lips.

His hands clenched on Kudo-kun's narrow hips. Hattori-kun's covered them, fingers slipping in between his to add his strength to the hold, imprint his rhythm on the slow rocking motion Saguru had started. He could feel Kudo-kun's tension, the careful way he held himself still. He swallowed more of his cock, to the back of his mouth, sped up a little bit. He didn't try going fast yet, bringing Kudo-kun off too soon. He wanted it to last.

Hand in his hair, petting, oh-so-slightly shaky. "Hakuba-kun? I'm going to need to sit down pretty soon."

Saguru paused for a second, then regretfully allowed Kudo-kun's shaft to slip out of his mouth. The head, though, he gave a last suck before he let it go. He could taste precum.

Kudo-kun's knees wobbled under him. With a little startled laugh -- smug, oh so smug -- Saguru helped guide him down, his hands and Hattori-kun's tight on his hips. He was still laughing quietly as he watched Kudo squirm free out of their hold and ruthlessly kick his jeans and underwear away -- his boxers caught on his foot, so he had to kick twice -- and sprawl, leaning on his elbows with his legs spread to both sides of them. His tanktop was ruffled up, baring most of his stomach.

Saguru moved over him, planted his hands on the tatami around Kudo-kun's hips, and admired him for a second. Slender, but muscles tight and well-delineated under his skin, and that hard cock resting on his belly, damp and flushed -- man all over.

He leaned down to take it in his mouth again.

Kudo's hand rose, fingers catching in the collar of Saguru's yukata. He glanced down at himself -- it had been tugged loose here and there, hung from his shoulders and gaped open on his chest. The belt was still stubbornly hanging on.

Hattori-kun had slipped a hand underneath the back of it and was caressing the inside of his knee from behind, just with the back of his knuckles. Saguru shivered, his attention briefly pulled from Kudo's member, slid his knees a little more apart without a second thought.

Hattori-kun's hand slipped higher, ruffling up his yukata, until he could feel it against both of his inner thighs. He wasn't wearing underwear, Kudo-kun had taken all his clothes to put in the wash, and the anticipation of Hattori's touch curled his toes. He groaned when Hattori cupped his balls from behind, slid his fingers up his erection. Rocking into Hattori-kun's hand, he leaned down again, drew a line up Kudo's shaft with the tip of his tongue and closed his mouth into a kiss on the tip. It was hard to concentrate.

Hattori-kun's voice made him blink, though it was mostly his hand leaving that caught Saguru's attention the most. "Hn?"

"Kay, thanks."

He almost didn't think to check what he'd apparently said yes to -- wouldn't have at all, in fact, if Hattori hadn't suddenly gone "What the fuck?"

Saguru and Kudo-kun lifted their heads together.

Hattori had pulled Saguru's suitcase closer. Saguru could have told him to be careful when opening it -- no, actually, he would have told him never to open it, because it was full of lace and gauze and only needed the barest provocation to explode out into a mess of pink and black ruffles.

"... Is that... a goth-loli minidress?"

Saguru let out a long, shuddering groan. Kudo-kun's head thumped back on the mats, and he started laughing, eyes squeezed closed.

"Hattori-kun. That wasn't a 'go ahead and invade my privacy'. That was a 'I am distracted by penis'. What exactly were you...?"

Hattori spluttered, hilarity and horror warring in his eyes. "Sunscreen! Gotta work as lube, and you're pale as fuck and it's really sunny outside and you're always prepared!"

"Not for everything, apparently," Saguru muttered under his breath.

"Hello? Goth-loli? What the fuck? Is that a --"

Kudo was still laughing in perfect silence, biting down on his fist as his whole body shook. Saguru glared at him first, and then at Hattori. "If you harbor any hope at all of getting any part of your person inside me tonight you will shut up right now and work very hard on forgetting you ever saw a thing."

"Pff -- hiding evidence, Hakuba-kun?"

Saguru slapped Kudo's hip. Kudo snickered again.

"Heh. It was Kid, Heiji," he mercifully explained. "Also, get my jeans. Back pocket."

Saguru shook his head, disgusted. "You're assuming I'm still interested."

Kudo's hilarity melted into a calmer, more dangerous sort of amusement; bracing his heels, he bent his knees, spread them slowly, displaying himself. Saguru's nails dug into his palm before he was even fully conscious of clenching his hands.

"You are," Kudo said, iron certainty in his voice, a smirk floating on his lips.

Oh god yes, he was. Damn it. Glaring down at him, he leaned over him, put a hand on his knee to brace himself and leaned down to bite a dark nipple. Kudo chuckled quietly.

Saguru would have looked for a way to punish him better, but then Hattori-kun was back behind him, his knees between Saguru's legs, his hand gliding up Saguru's inner thigh again; only this time his fingers left wet trails on Saguru's skin. He shivered, hips angling back almost of their own volition, only it wasn't that, it wasn't subconscious or instinctive or some other brand of not-his-decision.

He wanted it so much he didn't even have to think any more about it.

Kudo's hands curled around his wrists, thumbs rubbing across the veins, then slid upward, over the cloth until they found skin again, his collarbone. They trailed across to his shoulders, pushing the yukata along until the collar slipped back, baring them and his nape.

Hattori's fingers found his entrance, pushed in slow and steady. Saguru breathed out, eyes closed, waited a few seconds and then shifted his hips back, just a little, to see.

"More," he whispered, head bowed. Kudo's hands cupped his cheeks, thumbs rubbing little circles on his face.

"Do you want in me, too?"

Saguru let out a little breath, not quite a laugh. "All at once? You --"

Ah. That place. Yes.

"You overestimate my powers of concentration," he finished somehow. Sparks still danced up his spine, aftershocks.

"Ah, that's fine," Kudo said; Saguru could hear a smile in his voice, but he couldn't open his eyes to look.

Hattori-kun moved closer behind him, muttered something amused, and nudged his knees a little farther apart; something about stupid gaijin ancestry. Saguru vaguely promised himself he would mention it being not his fault Hattori felt inadequate later on, but then he felt the tip of Hattori's cock nudging his entrance and stopped caring.

It was weird. Tight. A little awkward. Making itself a place inside him, and he hadn't been feeling empty before but oh, maybe after this he would. He thought he liked it.

Hattori pulled back, and then in again, deeper, repeated the slow movement until he had worked all of himself in and Saguru could feel hips pressed flush against his ass.

Kudo-kun was still trailing his fingers on Saguru's skin. He forced his eyes open, looked down at him. "Ah -- what can I do?"

Kudo's eyes were laughing at him again. Hattori's hands closed on Saguru's hips and he thrust a bit harder; Saguru felt the impact of his hips all over, body rocked forward slightly; he braced himself and pushed back, tried not to forget that Kudo was watching his face and he must look so silly, he had to keep a hold of his -- ah. His face -- expression, his -- god.

"Are you -- perhaps -- tired from your long day, Hattori-kun?" he asked, as politely as he could. Hattori growled and thrust harder. Mm.

A minute later he remembered to open his eyes again. Kudo-kun was still watching them patiently, stretched out under them, legs apart, a faint smile on his face. He didn't seem to mind at all.


Kudo shifted down on the floor, and slipped a hand behind his head and tugged him down until they could kiss. Which was -- nice and wet and slow, and then Kudo's hand cupped his cock and he clenched around Hattori-kun's cock. Hattori let out a strangled groan and pushed him down, belly to belly with Kudo-kun. Kudo-kun's thighs rose and pressed against Saguru's hips, keeping Hattori-kun's hands trapped there, and he squirmed under Saguru until they were cock to cock as well.

Different angle inside him, and now Hattori could use his weight to really drive deep, and Saguru didn't know with which of them to move, how to match both their rhythms. Kudo's hands were exploring his back, baring it, and then Hattori's mouth -- kissing Kudo's fingers on his skin, kissing his shoulder blades, nipping and rocking and fucking him, and Kudo's body underneath his -- flat chest, taut belly, sharp hipbones, and a cock against his and a cock inside him, and he didn't even notice his orgasm coming until it was there already.

He went limp on top of Kudo-kun for a minute, eyes closed, resting his cheek against Kudo's shoulder. Hattori-kun was still thrusting inside him. It pulled breathy little moans out of him, one after another. Mmh.

Kudo-kun was still hard, though. Saguru lifted his head, blinked down at him. "Ah -- should I...?"

Kudo-kun kissed him quiet, distracting him. "You, should do nothing. Heiji?"

A grunt as his answer. Hattori-kun's fingers tightened briefly on Saguru's hips.

"Up," Kudo said, and for a second Saguru wondered what he meant.

Then Hattori's arms wrapped around his waist, and he shifted his weight back, and then Saguru was sitting up, still on his cock, his own weight driving it deep inside him, making him tighten instinctively. Oh -- yes, he would definitely feel empty afterwards. It didn't seem to matter that he had just come, it was good even now.

He blinked his eyes open, licked dry lips. Kudo-kun was on his knees in front of them, a hand curled around his cock, watching them.

Saguru watched him for another second, and then he allowed his head to loll back on Hattori-kun's shoulder, throat bared, feeling Hattori's muscles tense in effort as he reclined, supporting both their weights. Kudo-kun reached out to touch Saguru's stomach -- yanked on his belt, flung the ends of the kimono away from his and Hattori-kun's thighs. Kudo came with his eyes fixed on that shadowy place where they met, where Hattori-kun's cock disappeared inside him, semen splattering their bare thighs. It was apparently all Hattori-kun still needed to allow himself to follow them; with a last hard thrust upward he came inside Saguru -- and after a few seconds of stillness, he simply flopped backward on the mats, bringing Saguru along who wasn't expecting it.

"Hey!" he protested, and rolled off Hattori-kun, somewhat less than elegantly. Oh. Surprisingly tiring. He flopped onto his back at Hattori's side, joining him in the contemplation of the ceiling. Kudo snorted out a laugh, propped onto a hand and knees, and crawled up to Hattori's other side before crashing like a felled tree beside him.

"... Mmh," Hattori-kun eventually said. It was, Saguru felt, something they could actually agree on. He wasn't sure how to explain to them why he was laughing when they turned their heads to look askance, though.

The ceiling was rather nice to look at.

"Aw fuck, th' towel. Didn't even use it."

"S'okay. Our clothes caught almost everything."

"Almost, he says. Ain't the one who's gotta explain funny stains away..."

"There is," Saguru pointed out, very reasonably, "a perfectly serviceable mop in that bathroom just a few steps away. You'd just have to rinse it immediately."

"...Oh, yeah."

None of them moved, though.

Kudo's phone was buzzing silently, had probably been for a while. Groaning, he turned the bare minimum needed to catch a pant leg and pull it closer, pulled it free from the pocket, flicked it open, and squinted at it.

Then he lifted it overhead, holding it at arm's length, presumably in the hopes that a change of perspective would alter his perception of the image.

Saguru knew that it was what he wanted to do.

From: Ran
Subject: (none)

The message, this time, was a picture of long feminine legs, shapely -- Saguru could tell, even though they provoked zero reaction in him, that this was from hours and hours of exercise -- sitting with both knees demurely pressed together.

The only thing masking the fork of her thighs and her belly was the white top hat that she held on her lap.

"So," Kudo-kun said in a slightly strangled voice, breaking the long moment of stunned silence. "Anyone up for a second round?"


They were late for the heist, no matter how many traffic laws Hattori-kun broke racing through the streets on his motorcycle, Saguru precariously perched behind him and Kudo in tow on his skateboard.

Kid waved it off with an airy "Ah, I'll forgive you" that ever so slightly cracked in the middle.

It was the most embarrassing heist Saguru had ever been part of.