Sano conducts a little experiment to see if he can talk Saitou into a certain frame of mind.
“I can never just masturbate.” A mostly naked Sagara Sanosuke stood thoughtfully at one end of a dark bedroom. “I have to have somebody I’m thinking about, or I don’t get anywhere. It doesn’t have to be anyone I know… or like… or even really want… just a face and a body’s all I need. Like, I see a pretty girl in some shop, or pass some good-looking guy in the street, and they’re in my head next time I’m strangling the old snake.” He patted his crotch a little absently. “It sounds kinda weird, but it’s easier than making someone up. And anyway, it’s not personality; it’s just physical stuff. And it’s never the same person twice, so it’s not like I’m stalking people or anything.”
He glanced across the room. “That was why it was kinda strange when you showed up the second time. I mean, I laughed at myself in the first place — Like I’d ever really wanna fuck a cop, stuff like that. And then when you were there again the next night, I almost started to worry. It wasn’t like I thought you weren’t attractive… it was just, why you? I had no clue who you were; I’d only seen you once or twice in the street, and suddenly you were in my head when I was getting off, more than anyone else had ever been. So I paid more attention next time I saw you, trying to figure out why, and suddenly things got real freaky. ‘Cause from then on I couldn’t imagine myself with anyone else.
“It was those damn buttons of yours, I think.” Sano ran an indicative hand slowly up his chest. “And the gloves. Well, and the hat, too. All right,” he concluded, straightening his shoulders in imitation and putting on a grim expression, “it was the whole thing you always had going of ‘I’m so damn straight-laced and perfect’ with your uniform the same every day and your face that never changed ’cause nothing ever surprised you.” He relaxed with a grin. “I think I just wanted to know what you’d be like if you did unbutton those buttons and take of the gloves and the hat and maybe… smile or something. Course later I saw a whole lot of you and what you really are, but just then you were still this nameless cop I’d seen less than ten times total. But still I was imagining you… and me…” Languidly he began to rub himself with one hand, slowly rotating his hips where he stood and continuing his narrative:
“And I was getting really wild with it, too. Well, wild like I was coming up with stuff I’d never thought of before. Getting creative, you might say. Sometimes I’d think up this whole story, even, of you needing to search my place for stolen goods or something, and eventually you’d end up searching me, and of course it’d be a cavity search…” His hand slipped around behind him and his eyes narrowed as he let out a long, satisfied breath. “Or I’d be at the scene of some crime and you’d arrest me and take me to the police station, where I’d convince you I was innocent and then we’d fuck…” The hand returned to its previous position in front.
“But most of the time there was no story, nothing logical about it. You’d just walk in and take off your hat and gloves and jacket — I had to guess what was underneath that damn jacket for the longest time… or sometimes you wouldn’t even bother with all that; you’d just come in and open your pants and I’d bend over and there it’d go…” He closed his eyes and gripped himself harder for a long moment.
“So, yeah,” he resumed eventually. “That’s the kind of thing I imagined for months, and I couldn’t decide whether to talk to you or what. I’d never even said a word to you… didn’t know your name… was pretty sure you didn’t know mine — wrong about that, of course — and what was I supposed to say, really? ‘Hey, I spend most of my nights imagining your dick up my ass; what’s your name?’ But then that whole Kyoto thing kinda solved the problem, even if it was the most fucked-up way two people could possibly start a relationship. But anyway, now I can jack off and think about you and not feel weird about it, and it’s a lot nicer than picking some random face and imagining they’re sucking me or whatever. Don’t you think?”
Across the room, a highly aroused Saitou Hajime glared with lustful, unblinking, outraged eyes from where he was tied firmly to a chair. As Sano had finally fallen silent, he growled, “I think you’d better get over here now.”
Sano’s face broke into a smirk that was crueler than any of Saitou’s. “I told you I didn’t have to touch you to get you like this.”
The smirk changed to Sano’s usual grin, though the merciless teasing light still burned in his eyes. “Ask me nicely, or I might just start talking again.”
What I wonder most about this situation is how Sano convinced Saitou to try this out in the first place. What do you say to Saitou to get him to let you tie him to a chair? There must have been a persuasive prologue before any of this even started.
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