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The market is, objectively speaking, a miserable place. Precious few of the merchandise are happy to be there, nude and bound and collared - sometimes even caged - free for every prospective customer to examine. Few of the customers are happy either. Prices are high, and the press of so many bodies create a stifling atmosphere.
All in all, it is exactly what Jade had expected. He strolls leisurely through the market, not particularly bothered by what is going on around him. It was one of the reasons he had been chosen for this assignment. Today is his first day at the market; he's meant to speak with the vendors, make connections, and walk away with a cheap but handy acquisition.
He's working on the last part now. It's surprisingly difficult to find someone useful and docile, but still with some spirit left - he does not trust the older slaves who are complacent with the system.
It's during his second time looping through the market that someone catches his eye - for all the wrong reasons. He stops, stares at the familiar figure in front of him, an uncharacteristically surprised expression flashing over his face.
Then he's smiling again. He's still unsure if this is a good turn of events, but perhaps he could use this to his advantage.
"My my, I didn't expect to see you here."
All in all, it is exactly what Jade had expected. He strolls leisurely through the market, not particularly bothered by what is going on around him. It was one of the reasons he had been chosen for this assignment. Today is his first day at the market; he's meant to speak with the vendors, make connections, and walk away with a cheap but handy acquisition.
He's working on the last part now. It's surprisingly difficult to find someone useful and docile, but still with some spirit left - he does not trust the older slaves who are complacent with the system.
It's during his second time looping through the market that someone catches his eye - for all the wrong reasons. He stops, stares at the familiar figure in front of him, an uncharacteristically surprised expression flashing over his face.
Then he's smiling again. He's still unsure if this is a good turn of events, but perhaps he could use this to his advantage.
"My my, I didn't expect to see you here."
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Something Peony is all too glad to remind him of whenever Jade tells him he has no time for drinking together, but he tries not to think about the other man.
Leaning forward, he pours the sake for both of them. He still roughly recalls Shinjirou's tolerance levels (which is space in his brain that should have gone towards remembering more important things), and would have given him enough to make him tipsy, but the cups were too small.
He holds out the cup for Shinjirou to take. "Though I suppose you can think of it as a reward. You did good work today."
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Of course the cup is empty rather soon. Maybe if he gets drunk enough he's going to forget that this isn't some naughty game. "Don't reward me for stuff that's that easy. I'm not a kid."
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"No, you're not," he agrees easily. He had been referring to Shinjirou's acceptance of the situation rather than the quality of his work, but he doesn't see the need to elaborate.
"Speaking of which," his smile widens, gaining a sly edge, "do you remember this couch?"
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It's one thing to sit around naked with a collar around his neck and a chain draped across his lap; it's another to be reminded of an earlier date when all that hadn't yet been the case, except for the naked part. Choking on a sip of sake, he coughs and tries not to let it show what exactly he remembers about this couch.
His neck and face is heating up quickly, unfortunately. He groans and averts his eyes. "Yeah, well. It's just a couch. Comfy and shit." No big deal, right?
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"I'm glad you think so." He's still smiling, his voice low and warm. "Tomorrow, you'll be lying here and spreading yourself out."
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Before Jade can correct him, he empties his cup again. He's not a fortune teller, but he's pretty sure he'll have to be at least a bit drunk to accept whatever's coming out of Jade's mouth next.
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"I'm afraid not." He can be patient. He knows something like this is difficult to accept, even if he doesn't understand why - it's not like Shinjirou has any problems with spreading his legs for strangers. The come stains had taken awhile to clean off the couch.
Besides, in this case, he's not even asking him to whore himself out, just submit to a physical examination. "I told you you'd be entertaining my guests. One of them is visiting tomorrow. He's the one who introduced me to the market, and he's told me that he'd like to look at my purchase."
It's entirely possible that things would go further than that, but Jade won't risk allowing things to get too extreme, not without Shinjirou's consent. He's hoping to use him for a few months yet. That would be impossible if he alienates him two days into their partnership.
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"Uhm, okay?" This time, he doesn't gulp down the sake and puts it onto his thigh, rolling his thumb along the edge of the cup. "If he's the one who introduced you, why'd he need to look at me? Just curious what you picked?"
He's spent time with slaves -- not very talkative folks -- but not with any, uh, owners. Maybe it's less like being a loaf of bread and more like a new vase. New decoration. In that case, he can kind of get behind the idea of wanting to show off. His own morals stand on slippery, sandy ground. He's not going to judge.
"He's gonna be disappointed, but that's your problem."
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He looks almost meditative as he sips at his sake again. "Well, really, he prefers females more, but I suppose there's no helping that." Very deliberately, his allows his gaze to slowly trail down Shinjirou's body, coming to a stop at his groin. "So, do you think you can handle acting subservient for a few hours?"
There are always other methods: drugs, bondage, gags. His associate isn't picky; he likes helplessness as much as he does submission. Jade just prefers to do things the easy way.
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"Don't resist him ... for a few hours? That sounds like a long time for just looking at me." The sake's getting to his head, he can tell. Can tell when he edges closer to Jade, instead of keeping a safe distance between them. "What is he going to do and where are you going to be?"
"But you won't tell me that yet, right." Shrugging, he empties his cup of sake and puts it on the table. He shouldn't drink more than that. His head and chest are already feeling fuzzy and warm. That's bad, seeing as he won't be allowed to run off in the morning. "Hope you're charging him."
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Almost lazily, he drapes an arm around Shinjirou's shoulders, tugging him closer. The sake had lent slight flush to Shinjirou's skin, and when Jade runs his thumb across along his cheek, it feels warm and smooth. "But no, I won't be charging him. You aren't worth it yet. Besides, what sort of host makes his guests pay for the entertainment?"
They'll still be doing plenty of paying though, in information and connections. But right now, Shinjirou is little more than a token of goodwill, a gift freely given to and shared with his acquaintances.
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"I'll try being nice." He says this now, in a state where he can't tell if he's just a bit under the influence of alcohol, or already properly drunk. His hand on Jade's chest suggest the latter; he doesn't remember putting it there, but now he can feel a pulse under his fingertips. "I think I can be nice."
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Setting his own cup back on the table, he drapes that arm loosely against Shinjirou's back.
"You're being very nice right now," he murmurs, the words meant as a praise. His thumb brushes against Shinjirou's cheek again, then traces down the line of his jaw, coming to a rest just under his chin. He pushes up, very lightly, a wordless request for Shinjirou to tilt his head back. It would be nice to kiss him; he seems to respond well to physical gestures.
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"Should I be like this tomorrow, for your friend?" It's easy, at the moment. Giving in, finding excitement in it even. Allowing himself to flush and his fingers to curl up the fabric of Jade's shirt as he clings to him. But somewhere in the back of his mind, he knows he won't be able to reproduce this behavior. There's a mental wall between this, which is so good and relieving, and allowing himself to indulge and explore it.
The wall's cracked, but still it stands ... and it sounds like Jade's guest isn't interested in unrelenting concrete.
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"Can you?" He asks, choosing not to answer the question properly. "You won't be able to rely on alcohol as a crutch tomorrow."
It's difficult, Jade knows, to consciously let down barriers that had been built and maintained for years. Acting like they're down is one thing, but he doubts Shinjirou is talented enough to pull that off yet.
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At least the latter won't happen again.
"Why not?" It'd make everything so much easier and he'd simply drink enough not to remember anything afterwards. Even intoxicated as he is at the moment, he realizes that is probably exactly the opposite of what Jade wants. What was it -- working on his discipline. Alcohol is definitely not good for someone's discipline. "He won't like me when I'm sober. But I won't kick or bite him, I promise."
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"You know perfectly well why not." He runs his hands down Shinjirou's bare back, squeezing and kneading at the warm flesh. "You're not going to learn any control that way. Besides, giving you to him drunk implies we think him too repulsive to handle sober."
Appearances are important, as Jade had learnt in the years after he became entangled in politics.
One hand falls to stroke along Shinjirou's thigh, pressing down lightly whenever he finds a bruise. "Not kicking or biting would be a good start. I'd like you to keep quiet as well."
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"Quiet as in not saying anything?" This is something he considers difficult in any state, sober, drunk, drugged. Only sleeping is the obvious exception. "Not making any noise at all?"
The pressure on his assorted bruises makes his legs twitch. Some are older and barely hurt anymore. Others are fresh, from being dragged around against his will, kicking and screaming insults at the top of his lungs. However, he doesn't attempt to pull away. The pain is always quick and sharp, spiraling up his spine straight into his head -- and then into his cock, hard enough to lie almost flat against his own stomach.
He's willing to endure now, though, and more than that. It's like overriding the information. Unpleasant pain exchanged for ... for whatever this is.
"I think I'll fail tomorrow."
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Flatly: "You're giving up already."
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And there his frown deepens. Jade isn't asking for much at all. Isn't the question he should rather ask himself why he thinks he can't even succeed in being quiet and welcoming for a few hours. "No. I'm not."
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"Then, for your information, you're free to make noises. I'd simply prefer it if you don't speak." It's easier that way. He doesn't trust Shinjirou to mind his tongue, so forbidding him from speaking at all would be a more straightforward approach to the problem.
He cups Shinjirou's balls, feeling their weight, then moves his hand up to press his thumb against the base of his cock. It's hot, much hotter than the rest of Shinjirou's body, and completely hard. His other hand continues to rest on Shinjirou's thigh, idly tracing nonsense patterns on top of some of the darker bruises.
"So why did you think you would fail?"
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Raising his hips and taking his weight off Jade's legs, he gently drops his head forward to rest against Jade's. "I can't control myself when I'm angry. Uh. Or scared." And then people get hurt. Killed, in the worst case scenario. Perhaps he shouldn't be telling Jade any of this. It's too personal, too intimate, and even drunk as he is the honesty makes his skin crawl. The goosebumps are proof of his discomfort.
"I want to change that." He's not a killer; he doesn't want to hurt people at all. "I don't know how."
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"It all comes down to a matter of control." He wraps his hand firmly against Shinjirou's cock. His skin is velvety smooth to the touch, especially when compared against his hand, with calluses formed from a lifetime of writing and wielding weapons. "Either control your emotions, or your reactions."
He doesn't have the faintest idea how emotions would be controlled - he can't remember ever having felt anger or fear for more than a fleeting moment. It's unnatural, he knows, but that's simply how he is.
Which left controlling reactions. That, he had some experience with.
"I may be able to assist you. But you'll have to trust me." He is not blind to what he's doing - Jade is no altruist, acting out of the goodness of his heart. No, he's simply doing this to gain better control over Shinjirou.
But if it benefits them both, then what's the harm?
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While Shinjirou does move, his attack is very light. He kisses his way down to Jade's throat, one hand on Jade's shoulder for support, the other fisted in the backrest of the couch. His hips want to thrust into Jade's hand, a warm hollow that feels far too good for being just a palm. This, Shinjirou decides for himself, is his own first test. Staying still should be easy enough.
"How -- can you teach me?" Jade isn't someone who should be trusted, he thinks, but then neither is he. It evens out, in his opinion. If being used by someone turns out to be useful for himself, he can deal with it. Hopefully. "Will you?"
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"I will." Those words sound too much like a promise for his comfort. He knows all about the value of good teachers - enough to know that he'll never be a one. But he puts the thought out of his mind.
"In fact, you could say I'm already teaching you." Now that he's sure Shinjirou won't start thrusting into his hand, he tightens his grip, giving his cock a little squeeze, then begins to drag his fist up with tantalizing slowness. The friction feels good against his hand, even without lubricant, all heat and tightness. He can only imagine what it feels like to Shinjirou.
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