Work Text:
The air was hot und dusty, the loud clatter and booming from the heavy machinery was all around, and the light was scarce, fogged by clouds of dirt. All men working here had hard hats and weak bodies, removing stone from walls and grounds, and carrying them in huge piles into carts. The rock walls and tunnels were narrow and whipped awful echoes into tired ears. No daylight came to this place, not a singular ray of hope that would brighten up the darkened faces. Amidst this mayhem of workers running around and suffering, was one man: Seiya Ichijou.
This was the underground hell, a gigantic cave for a megalomaniac city that was planned by the ever powerful Teiai Corporation. Thousands of workers in hard labour, day after day, trying to pay off their debts they had accumulated at Teiai. Some would be here for years, maybe decades. But Ichijou was here for eternity. He had cost Teiai 700 million Yen, lost in one of the gambling casinos that he once had been the shining manager of. Young, dashing, well-dressed, and always in splendid shape, he had been the promising rising star of the corporation. And yet, everything went differently. But there was no time to cry for the past, he was very much in the present.
With a big sigh, Ichijou wiped the sweat away from his forehead, continuing to swing the heavy pickaxe alone in one of the tunnels. He was here for a thousand years, this is how long it would take to pay off the debt. There was no hope. ... Or at least, that’s what the others thought of him. Ichijou, despite his feminine looks and well-cared appearance, was never picked on or bullied. When he came down to the underground, the rumour had spread like wildfire that a high ranking person was sent to labour camp hell. He was protected by a shield of pity and disdain. People didn’t want to approach him, either due to his reputation of a once-powerful man, or due to him being here forever.
Ichijou, however, had different plans. He would claw his way upwards, no matter what the cost. In his manager days, he had worked through harder and more soul-draining challenges. The stress, the hard work, the constant pressure - he had already known that feeling. “I will get out of here.” he said to himself repeatedly - when he woke up, when he went to sleep, in his dreams.
And yet, there was something missing that would give him the full strength he needed. He was alone down here. Shunned by everyone. Isolated. And more than anything else, he missed his right hand man: Murakami.
Murakami had always been there for him, in dire time when aid was needed, or simply in his day to day life, saying “Good Morning, Boss!” when he entered the office. Having Murakami not stand next to him, ready for everything, was more hurtful than he had expected. Ichijou had developed feelings for him. But there was no chance of ever seeing him again. He had stayed in the casino, probably leading it now and living the good life. “And yet, he is so far away...”, Ichijou thought to himself. A knot of sadness had formed in Ichijou’s heart, growing whenever he thought of him. Just hearing the simple sentence of “Boss!” would cheer him up every day - and he was convinced that he would never hear it again. Ichijou was not a ‘Boss’ anymore... he was a simple working drone in a big, dark system of tunnels and caves.
The evening siren called for the end of the work day.
With a tired sigh, Ichijou put down his pickaxe. The sore pain in his back came creeping up again. He now felt it: The stinging feeling in his arms and the dust in his eyes that would seep through the cracks in his protective plastic glasses. He had always been very careful with his body, always keeping it in splendid shape, but here is was simply impossible. And yet, he gave his very best.
The perica that he had gained was for simple tools of grooming - he had struck a deal with the foreman. His first payments he spent on buying a hairbrush, the second batch on tweezers and a tiny hand mirror, and several months of pay for a little manicure set. While all the others spent their money on beer and food, he invested in his personal maintenance. A little pack of peanuts was all the extra he could afford this month. He wanted to save up his money for a good hair product, maybe shampoo - and if he was lucky, conditioner; but this was very hard to get hold of underground, and therefore: extremely expensive.
Many had looked down on Ichijou for spending his money on his looks, instead of snacks or drinks, but this was Ichijou’s way. He would not let himself fall apart. Not bow down to the dirt and the darkness. Walking with his head up high, looking as good as ever, just like people remembered him.
But now, Ichijou wandered listlessly to the canteen. The day was over. It would be the same food as always: Rice with sardines. He picked up a tray and queued like all the other tired men around him. There was no joy for the free time ahead of them. There would be a few discussions in the quarters, a dice gamble here and there, but nothing that was truly fun. Ichijou sighed.
When he reached the food distribution, the person that could be called “a cook” - but only in name and not in skills - gruffly asked, leaning out the kitchen: “Are you Seiya Ichijou?” Ichijou, surprised, answered hesitantly: “Y-Yes, ... why?” The cook snorted and disappeared. The remaining workers looked confused, and so did Ichijou. The grumpy kitchen guardian came back and slapped a can on Ichijou’s tray, together with the usual food of rice and fish. “You got an extra. Order from the higher-ups.” As Ichijou stumbled out of the way to make room for the line behind him, he looked at the unexpected present. It was a can of peach halves in juice. While it looked like an ordinary serving of supermarket canned fruit to an outsider, this was a true treasure down here.
Ichijou’s face lit up, shining brightly with happiness, his tired face muscles slowing rising to a big smile. He couldn’t recall the number of days that he had spent without eating something sweet. The food was minimal every day, so desserts where completely out of question. Even when you wanted something sweet, you had to bribe a foreman to organise you something, and then defend your spoils, as jealousy would run rampant.
Ichijou sat down on one of the canteen tables and munched his scarce meal away, his eyes still locked on the can. What could it mean? Had the Teiai Corporation finally gotten soft after seeing his endless suffering? No, certainly not. This was something else.
He put away his bowl and chopsticks, and inspected the can again. Nothing fishy about it, it was still sealed, the sell-by date was also in order, and it had a pull open top, so no need for a can opener. As he tore off the tin aluminium lid, the sweet smell of peaches caressed his nose. Taking a big sniff and closing his eyes at this sensational experience, he took back his previously used chopstick, poked a piece and put one of the peach parts in his mouth.
It was bliss. With a little eye-roll and a relaxed sigh, Ichijou sat back in his chair. A little “Mmh...” escaped him, the sweet sensation taking all his stress away. How could something so simple be so delicious?
Maybe it was foolish to eat them all at once, but he couldn’t help himself. The feeling of tasting something sweet again was overwhelming. He even drank the can empty to the very last drop, and placed the container back on his tray with a satisfying ‘Clank!’.
With a big, happy smile, he leaned back. No matter where it had come from, it had made his day, maybe even his whole week. Ichijou was sure that somebody simply had made a mistake somewhere and this can had been promised to some foreman. He snickered at that thought.
It must have been a mistake, because no one down here knew of his love for fruits. Ichijou loved sweet things, but as he always tried to be healthy, he had one day switched from candy to fruits and never looked back. Nobody knew, except his employees at the casino. Every morning, a lovely bowl had been standing on his desk, neatly arranged with apples, bananas or oranges, sometimes strawberries and peaches, all freshly bought by his man Murakami-
Ichijou sighed and furrowed his brows again. Murakami had always been looking out for him. And now he was gone. Most likely forever.
He shook his head. He would not let this magnificent dessert get dragged down by his nostalgic sadness that was useless anyways. And yet...
-
Ichijou had spent the rest of his evening flicking through old magazines for entertainment, but he already knew them by heart. As he trot to his sleeping quarters, his arms hanging after a long day of work and tiredness finally breaking in, and passing the main hall, he was tapped on the shoulder by one of his colleagues. “Ichijou?” The man held a parcel in his hand, wrapped in brown packaging paper, a single thin rope strapped around it. “Yes?” asked Ichijou back, quite confused. “The foreman gave this to me, he said that I should deliver this to you. Apparently an order from above.” Ichijou looked at the package, then at the man. This was an odd coincidence. If it was one. “Yes, sure, t-thank you...” he took the parcel, and continued his way to the dorms, now severely confused. Something soft was in there, big, yet very light. He turned the package in his hands around several times. No note, no writing, no stickers, nor stamps.
As he sat on his hard, uncomfortable bed, his night shirt and boxers already put on, he put the package in his lap and opened it. To his surprise, it was a blanket. A nice, deep red coloured one. He felt it between thumb and forefinger - it was polar fleece, very soft and cosy. Ichijou’s face lit up again, and rubbed his cheeks against the fabric. How lovely it was! What a great feeling after having only rough linen blankets that didn’t keep warmth where it belonged.
Ichijou spread the fleece under his normal blanket and shuffled himself in his bed. Pulling the soft cover up to his nose, he smiled to himself. No matter if it had been a mistake or really an order, this was beautiful in every way. It felt a bit as if somebody was looking out for him again, making sure that he was alright underground. Maybe it was Muraka-
Ichijou’s sudden realisation seemed silly, even for his own taste. It couldn’t be. Or could it? He rolled over on his side and cuddled himself into his new, fluffy blanket. It was time to sleep.
-
Ichijou had slept well, was refreshed and began his day brighter than any other. The work felt easier, he swung his pickaxe with more energy than before. Maybe it had also been the fruits that had given him new power. Ichijou licked his lips absent-mindedly at this thought. They had been so delicious...
The hours really flew by. When the evening siren filled the air with its disturbingly loud noise, an announcement came through as well via the booming speakers: “Wing 7, immediate meeting in the main room! New important announcement will be made!” Wing 7 was Ichijou’s department. He put down his tools, rubbed the sweat away from his forehead, and sighed. This was surely again some news that some higher up staff had changed that made no difference down here anyways. Or some new regulation about perica - in any case, surely something unimportant.
There was a soft muttering in the air when all of them met in the main hall. Standing in a group, they didn’t knew what was going to happen today. Ichijou had placed himself in the third row, he didn’t want to stand in front. One of the foreman came into the room, clapped his hands together and positioned himself in front of everybody. All heads turned to him.
“Hello, everyone! As you have probably heard, we have an important announcement to make! As you probably know, we foreman are only smaller fries in this here world, but the real managers come down here quite rarely.” Ichijou scoffed. Of course. These suit-wearing bastards would never dare to make their clothes dirty. The foreman continued: “But this will now change for the first time, in an experiment, and we, Wing 7 have been selected for this! Our new boss will come down here, and work closer with us all, in order to make Teiai the new shining company on the map!” Ichijou sharpened his ears, and got on his tip toes to take a better look. This was really new development. The foreman seemed very pleased and content about what was to come. “And I am proud to present him to you all! He is from one of the casinos, but decided to take a different route in his business path. We are really honoured to present to you...” And a big familiar silhouette appeared in the doorframe, Ichijou’s eyes widened, the foreman took a deep breath and announced: “Welcome, Mister Muraka-“
“MURAKAMI!!!” yelled Ichijou, forcing his way forward through the ranks of people standing before him. He was shaking and breathing fast, and just as he made it through, the figure had entered the room and stood right in front of him.
It was indeed - Murakami. He looked well. In a suit, as always, but without the casino bowtie - instead, a dark business tie. Ichijou, panting hard, stood in front of him looking straight into his face, tears in the corners of his eyes. He pressed his lips together, shaking in place, as to not blurt out many things at once. Murakami smiled warmly, and put his hand on his shoulder. Ichijou twitched at this touch. “Murakami...” he whispered.
Manager Murakami then turned to the crowd, let go of Ichijou and said with a big gesture: “Good evening everyone! My name is Murakami, and I will be the manager of this wing for the future. I hope for a good business with all of you. Together, we will make Teiai a great company. I have moved my office down here as well, so that there is always a way to contact me, should you have any problems at all.”
He turned to Ichijou. “And as I see, somebody already wants to talk with me. I am not an unapproachable manager, I want to be here for the people.” Ichijou however was still frozen in place. Murakami took a step towards the foreman, and whispered to him: “Excuse me, is it alright to borrow worker Ichijou here for a second? I wish to speak with him in my office.” The foreman, trying to be a good, obedient employee, bowed and nodded frantically: “Of course, Sir, whatever you wish!”
Murakami turned to the audience again. “I wish you all a good night, and never forget, you can always reach me!” He took Ichijou by his shoulder again and guided him outside, into the hallway.
They walked next to each other, down the long, dark corridor. Ichijou didn’t dare say anything, but his thoughts ran rampant. The can, the blanket, it really had been Murakami. Ichijou, with a hoarse, broken voice, tried to regain his posture. “Murakami... What are you doing down here? Was it you who got me these gifts?” Murakami closed his eyes and smiled. “Yes, that was me.” He pointed towards the last door on their left. “That’s my new office.” Murakami was surprisingly calm and composed, Ichijou thought. But even he knew that this was a facade for the others underground. There were still people in the corridors. To immediately establish that they knew each other well was probably of disadvantage. Ichijou bit his lip, he hoped that his sudden outburst in the main hall hadn’t destroyed Murakami’s cover. As he thought that, he suddenly felt Murakami’s hand touch his own for a second, holding on to it and giving it a light squeeze. He looked at Murakami’s face. “Don’t worry, Ichijou.” he whispered. He blushed and looked forward again.
They were at the door. Murakami opened his office with his important-looking shiny bundle of master keys and let Ichijou in.
It was a nice office, thought Ichijou. A bit brighter than the others, maybe due to the white walls, instead of the usual grey ones. In the middle was a desk, with only a few things on it, pens, paper and files. The rest of the room was cabinets, wardrobes, and several cupboards. In the corner, a little sofa, a tiny fridge and a coffee table, for casual meetings. Although this was a working place, it was nonetheless cosy.
Murakami closed the door behind them, with a quick turn of the key. They were finally alone. Undisturbed.
Ichijou leaned himself against Murakami’s office desk, looking back at him, who was still standing at the door. He looked good - still with the scruffy unkempt hair that would never stay down, no matter how much gel you applied to it, and the big shoulders - some that you always could rely on. No matter if it was something psychological or physical, Murakami had always been there to defend and support him.
Murakami came closer to Ichijou, and stopped right in front of him. Ichijou could feel the nervous breath of Murakami, and his official facade finally breaking away.
He softly opened his mouth to speak: “I-Ichijou. When you left the casino, I became the manager. The position fell to me, as I was the second in line of command.” He looked slightly to the side, shyly averting his eyes. “I really missed you in the casino. And I simply couldn’t bear the thought of you being down here.” A little blush appeared on his cheeks. “The casino was in good hands, my hands. But... I couldn’t do it alone. All that pressure and... no one there with me. I was alone... and so, I asked at Teiai for a position change. I wanted to go underground ... t-to see you. And as nobody wants to come down here, it was seen as a downgrade, and they made me boss of this mining wing. A-And... that’s how I came to hell too.” He sighed heavily in relief, and added: “I needed to see you, and check if you were alright... I sent these things to you, I was sure that you would need them...”
Ichijou’s heart swelled, and grabbed Murakami by his forearms. “That was so nice of you... No, it’s amazing even! I didn’t knew your loyalty went this far!”
But as he uttered that sentence, he knew already that this was more than loyalty. Ichijou and Murakami both knew. They had never spoken about this, always just stood and acted next to each other, kept their phantasies to themselves, being glad to have each other’s company, beginning every morning with a smile upon seeing each other. But maybe, this was now getting more...
Ichijou moved his hands higher up Murakami’s arms, Murakami himself answered this gesture, running his hand up Ichijou’s arms as well, coming closer. “M-Murakami... I can’t believe you’re here...” stammered Ichijou, looking deep into his eyes, his heart racing faster. Murakami blushed more, and muttered: “I-I... I simply had to, Boss.”
Tears were suddenly shooting up in Ichijou’s eyes. It had been far too long that somebody had called him ‘Boss’. Every day, he had been greeted by this title from his employees. Then, after the incident, never again. For many, many months. But hearing it from Murakami himself, with that determined, yet gentle voice... it filled him with nostalgia and happiness. “Oh, Murakami...” whispered Ichijou, as he came closer to his face, parting his lips a little. Tilting his head, Murakami came closer as well, his breath getting more rapid in anticipation. Ichijou trembled and swallowed, then closed his eyes. And with a soft touch, their lips met for the first time.
Nearly hesitant to do anything rash, they nipped and kissed each other cautiously. They met with loving tenderness, slow and gentle. A tear ran down Ichijou’s face, he had waited for so long for this ray of hope to come down to the darkest depths. Murakami took Ichijou’s face in his hands, and wiped the tear away with his thumb. Ichijou gasped and sighed longingly into the kiss, then went a bit stronger at it. Murakami felt Ichijou’s need and put his arms around him, pulling him closer, one hand on his lower back, the other on between his shoulder blades. Ichijou did so to, putting his arms around Murakami’s big shoulders. Their kisses were getting faster, and Murakami felt Ichijou’s tongue brush his lips. He wanted more. “Hmnh... Mura... Kami... Hah...” moaned Ichijou when their tongues touched, their tips circling each other. He grabbed the back of Murakami’s suit and pulled himself closer, locking lips while still kissing deep and slow. Ichijou felt as if the knot in his chest, this loneliness, this stress, this sadness, was dissolving into warmth, filling him right to his fingertips.
Murakami went stronger at it as well, sighing, longing for this moment for such a substantial amount of time, and let one hand run through Ichijou’s long, beautiful hair, the other one wandering down, to his arse cheeks - and gave them a gentle squeeze. Ichijou gasped in surprise, but enjoyed the feeling more than anything. To be desired, to be touched, to be loved by his man Murakami, made Ichijou swoon, and filled him with erotic ecstasy. Severely blushing, Ichijou suddenly pulled Murakami closer by his tie. Murakami gave a little surprised noise of “Ngh!”, when Ichijou did this, but answered this action with same intensity, squeezing harder, kissing deeper, letting his tongue slide and twist around Ichijou’s. Their kisses became harsher, needier, sloppy in execution, wet and loud. The tears had stopped. This was magnificent.
“Ghn... Hah... Mura... Kami...” Ichijou moaned into their lips meeting, shivering in sexual tension. He felt himself getting hard, full of want, the need growing inside of him to fully embrace his partner. Murakami himself was getting excited too - after his initial hesitation to finally kiss the man he had once called his boss, he could finally let go and starting to accept the thought. Kissing Ichijou was real, and yet, he could not believe his luck. He could feel him, everywhere, so close to him after this gigantic distance had been so long between them. “Ichi... Jou... Gnh... Hah...” groaned Murakami, pulling Ichijou closer, feeling him, his firm behind and his soft hair, which still had a great smell, even after so long a time underground.
Murakami let his hand wander from the back to the front, to the hem of Ichijou’s shirt. Ichijou sighed, and whispered, “Yes...”, then placed his lips back on his. Murakami ran his right hand under Ichijou’s shirt, feeling along his abs, covered in worker’s sweat, and up to his chest. With a trembling sigh into the kiss, he started squeezing Ichijou’s chest. Under Murakami’s grasp, Ichijou twitched and stopped kissing him for a second, his reactions being out of his control. “Ah...! Hah...!” he moaned, at this great feeling of being touched in such a sensitive place. He felt passion spreading in his chest, and himself enjoying every second of it. Murakami’s hands were gentle, yet strong, and he could feel Ichijou’s nipple harden under his palm. “Hah... Boss...” he sighed at this exciting feeling, “D-Do you like t-this?” Ichijou nodded, “Yes... I-It feels g-good...” Murakami let go of Ichijou and lifted up his shirt with both hands, pushing it up, exposing Ichijou’s bare chest. Ichijou quivered in anticipation, and put one hand on Murakami’s head, guiding him to his chest, while he supported himself on the office table with the other hand.
Murakami, still a bit hesitant to do anything too fast, started slowly kissing Ichijou’s chest. His lips touched the bare skin with loving care. The little amount of body hair that Ichijou had, a soft peach fuzz, brushed against his lips, tickling him in the most erotic manner possible. Murakami moved to the side, towards Ichijou’s nipple, embracing it with a gentle touch between his lips, letting his tongue run over it. Ichijou moaned and started to blush: “Gnh... Hah... Yes...” while fondling Murakami’s hair, running his hand through it, nearly pressing him harder to his chest. This delicate spot was amazing, he could feel the tension run through his whole body, making him even more excited, shortening his breath.
“Mura-... Kami... Hah...” muttered Ichijou, throwing his head back, “You’re... so good at this... Hah...” His moans had become a bit louder, and Murakami went at Ichijou’s chest harder, squeezing it tight while licking his nipples with strong precision, pressing his tongue against them, circling and flicking them - his lips were now nipping and embracing his nipples, while sighing dirtily. “Gnh... Hah... Mnh...“ were Murakami’s short, strong noises while pleasuring Ichijou’s chest, he could feel himself falling more and more for his Boss. To finally satisfy the man he adored, and hearing all these noises coming from Ichijou made him ecstatic ... and extremely hard.
Ichijou did a little jump and sat himself on the office table. His eyes full of longing want, he looked into Murakami’s and whispered: “Please... touch me more...” He then took Murakami’s hand and guided it to his loins, gently placing it there. Murakami nodded hesitantly, and started unzipping Ichijou’s jeans, staring at his crotch. Was this real? He still couldn’t believe it.
But it was real.
Murakami swallowed, and slowly slid his hand into Ichijou’s boxers. His fingertips brushed Ichijou’s hard shaft and Murakami heard a gasp coming from him: “Hah...”- so faint, but so erotic. He looked up into Ichijou’s face, who was smiling, his eyes filled with anticipation and excitement, looking lovingly into his. “Yes... You can...” murmured Ichijou seductively, with a slow blink. Murakami looked down again, with a stronger blush. With both his strong hands, he gently pulled down Ichijou’s underwear and pants, those now hanging around his knees, and Murakami looked at Ichijou’s strong erection. It was beautiful - the t-shirt rolled up over Ichijou’s chest, his torso exposed, his blushing, smiling face, the pants now falling down to his ankles... it was like unwrapping a precious present, one that he had been waiting for so long for.
Resting his arms on Ichijou’s legs, Murakami got on his knees and approached Ichijou’s cock. With a little sigh, he softly touched the shaft with his lips, as if planting a small kiss on it - closing his eyes upon touch. Ichijou moaned, “Hah...” and let his hand run through Murakami’s hair again, ruffling this short, spikey mane he liked so much.
Murakami tilted his head, letting his mouth run along Ichijou’s cock sideways, his tongue licking the strong, hard dick. He then locked his lips on the shaft, moving up and down. It was unusual, thought Ichijou, yet so very satisfying. “Hnh... Hnn...” Murakami moaned into his tonguework, first drops of sweat breaking out on his temples, he was enjoying this feeling of giving satisfaction to Ichijou far too much. He wandered up the shaft, then wrapped his lips around Ichijou’s dick, letting the head inside his mouth and circled it with his soft tongue. Ichijou flinched and quivered, sighing heavily: “Yes... Hah... Gnh...” Massaging Ichijou’s thighs, softly squeezing them, he let Ichijou’s cock further into his mouth - hot, wet and deep, sliding in. Ichijou’s moans became louder, his grasp on Murakami stronger: “Hah! Gah! Hnn! Murakami!”
With a passionate groan, Murakami went stronger in his motions, moving his head up and down, sucking and licking harder, moving his right hand over to work on the shaft as well, caressing the base of Ichijou’s dick, holding it in place while working on it. Murakami was giving his best, and Ichijou bit his lip, feeling the hot sensation around his dick, arousing him even more, making him feel so good. He threw his head back again, letting out a big moan, “Ghaah!”, then shook off his pants with a little flinch, and lifted up his legs slightly. Murakami’s arms slid off, as if on command, and Ichijou put his legs around Murakami’s shoulders.
This new position was fierce, Murakami continued sucking and caressing Ichijou’s cock, but was also supporting him, his arms placed back again around his thighs. Being quite literally between Ichijou’s legs, feeling them weigh down on his shoulders, made him even more excited. He wanted him so much, it made him nearly dizzy with passion. Let alone, feeling his rigid, strong cock in his mouth was already amazing. His own erection was pressing hard against his pants, he could not wait for release that much longer. Still sucking and rubbing his tongue against Ichijou’s shaft in his mouth, Murakami moaned “Nngh... Nnh... Mmh...”, his eyes opening slightly, realising his intense position again. This was nearly too much.
Ichijou’s legs slid off his shoulders and Murakami let his dick glide out of his hot, wet mouth, gasping for air. As he wiped the saliva away from the corners of his mouth with the back of his hand, he saw the beautiful sight before him: Ichijou was lying on the office table, nearly nude, panting and sighing, looking at him with eyes full of lust. “Hah... Murakami... How do you want me...?” whispered Ichijou.
Murakami, standing bowed over Ichijou, shy with a blush, whispered, “However you want, B-Boss...” He didn’t dare say anything. He still couldn’t believe his own situation. Ichijou suddenly smiled dirtily, and murmured: “Well... I had always dreamed of sex with you in my office... in a standing position... g-getting fucked by you... from behind...” He pointed with a swirl of his wrist around the room, “And now this is... your office... Hah... Not mine...” Ichijou swallowed hard. “I-I... I find this thought really... hot...” he added with a shy, yet husky erotic breath of his voice.
Murakami was surprised at Ichijou’s confession of phantasies, and he felt his own body temperature rising, his face getting hot, sweat running down his forehead. “Y-Yes...!” he muttered. Ichijou jumped down from the table, but to Murakami’s surprise, did not do anything to make that dream immediately into reality.
Instead, Ichijou came closer to Murakami and embraced him with a longing, deep kiss, and started to unbutton his shirt. Murakami was astonished, yet he understood. Ichijou was half-naked, only his rolled up t-shirt and socks remained, while he himself was still fully dressed in his official business clothes. Opening Murakami’s white shirt with one hand, Ichijou let his other hand run under Murakami’s suit, taking the jacket off, then throwing it over the office chair. Murakami’s shirt was now open, and Ichijou pulled him closer, his lips caressing the side of his neck. “Murakami... Nnh...” whispered Ichijou while his lips touched his neck. “Hah... Gnh...” moaned Murakami at this passionate gesture, getting disrobed while savouring all the lust that flowed through him. With one swift move, Ichijou’s hand running along his bare skin, he had taken off Murakami’s shirt, throwing it over the office chair as well. Ichijou then came up from his neck to Murakami’s face and kissed him on his lips, parting them and entering deep inside him with his tongue. While doing that, he undid Murakami’s belt.
Murakami himself however was in a state of pure passion. He felt his own eyes turning upwards and falling for the direct embrace, while he was getting undressed by Ichijou. He sighed into the kiss, feeling Ichijou’s skilled hands working on him. Ichijou parted from his lips with a loud gasp, sighing breathlessly, “Hah... Hah!”, and looked down at Murakami’s crotch with a wanting stare, the belt still in his hands. “Murakami...”, whispered Ichijou, “I want you... I want you so bad...” Murakami sighed heavily, still feeling aroused from that sudden embrace, and muttered: “I want you t-too ... Ichijou...”
Murakami hastily removed his pants and underwear himself and just let them slide to the floor, then led Ichijou back to the office table, who also had also taken his remaining clothes off. They were both naked and extremely hard for each other. Murakami pointed at the table: “Here...?” he asked breathlessly.
Ichijou nodded, and placed his hands on the table - and with a sigh, bend over, his legs quite far apart, his chest so low, it would have touched the table as well. “I’m ready for you...” he whispered, while turning his head around to look at Murakami standing behind him. Murakami gulped, seeing Ichijou’s firm, round butt that was in splendid shape, and his hole, which looked tight and... very inviting. Murakami however, shuffled around his office table first, and took out a bottle of lube out of his top desk drawer. Ichijou, still bend over, snickered when he saw this. “You filthy man... who keeps something like this in his office desk?” Murakami, happily joining in on the dirty talk, smiled back. “You act as if I didn’t knew the contents of your desk, Boss...” Spinning the bottle in his hand, he added: “You kept one at the casino as well, in the left bottom drawer of your desk!” Ichijou smirked and gave a little hand wave. “Touché.”
Murakami walked behind Ichijou again, looking at that magnificent view. Squirting quite a good amount of lube on his forefinger, he asked tauntingly: “What did you do with that lube back then in the office, Boss?” Ichijou grinned and said: “What do you think? Why was I always so relaxed after my lunch breaks?” Murakami rested his other hand on the lower back of Ichijou and applied his lubed-up finger gently to Ichijou’s anus. Ichijou shivered, then sighed, “Haah...”. Murakami continued, circling the hole with his fingertip, and spoke with a slower, seductive voice: “And what did you think about... when you touched yourself, Boss?” He let his finger ease into Ichijou’s tight hole, moving it in gradually. Ichijou felt the strong sensation from behind running through his body and his breath quickened. “I... I thought of many things... Hah... L-Lewd things... Dirty... T-Things...” he gasped. Murakami smirked, getting more turned on with every second. “What lewd things...?” he whispered, and let his finger glide in deeper, feeling Ichijou tighten around him. “Gnh... Hah... I... I-I... thought of... y-you...” muttered Ichijou, “You... Mura... Kami...” Ichijou’s fingertips pressed against the desk harder, looking for a stronger grasp, and he let out a dirty moan. “Haaah...”
Murakami teased some more, slowly turning his finger a bit, seeing Ichijou quiver in front of him. Becoming more breathless himself, getting so aroused by this whole set-up, he continued to ask: “Boss... Hah... What did you wanted to do... with me?” Ichijou’s moans became more begging, pleading in tone. “I wanted to have sex with you... e-everywhere... Gnh... Feel you... i-inside me...” Murakami sighed with a little quiver, then placed his other hand on Ichijou’s firm butt, caressing it. Tilting his head, he looked at his tight arse. It was so round, so beautifully clenching around his finger. “Really everywhere... Ichijou...?” he asked further. “Y-Yes... On my office desk... Against the c-camera screen wall... In the hallways... Hah...” Ichijou added with a moan: “Gnh.... E-Even on the ‘Bog’ pachinko seat...”
Murakami’s eyes widened. This imagination was clear as day in front of his eyes: After closing the casino, darkness on all floors, except for the shining bright pachinko machines, a naked Ichijou riding him in the Bog seat... his hips gyrating, his chest heaving, his long hair falling down his shoulders, his arms crossed behind his neck, throwing his head back in passion, his erect nipples, the neon from the Bog shining behind him, nearly blinding Murakami with light and noise, Ichijou’s shadowy silhouette moving in the illumination, glistening in sweat, the metal clatter of the pachinko balls mixing with his filthy moans...
To imagine that his Boss, Seiya Ichijou, would touch himself to these phantasies, fingering his anus in his office, legs on the table, trying to hold his moans so that none of his employees heard, covering his mouth, or stroking himself, his hand sliding over his hard cock, wet with lube, trembling, breathing heavily, thinking of him, Murakami, making faces that he would never show anyone else, getting aesthetically destroyed by passion and excitement...
Murakami swallowed. The pure imagination was enough to make him drip with precum. He gave one last small wiggle to his finger, Ichijou moaned “Hah!... Gha!” and he slowly slid it out. His own erection was so strong, it nearly hurt. “Ichijou...” he said between two hard breaths, “I want you... now...” Ichijou, panting and wheezing, turned his head around, and murmured in a hoarse voice: “Yes... Hngh... Please... Murakami...” Murakami applied lube a second time, on his raging hard cock, rubbing it gently all over, then took position behind bend over Ichijou.
Resting one hand on Ichijou’s lower back, Murakami guided himself towards to Ichijou’s anus. Pressing the tip of his hard cock in, he placed both hands on Ichijou’s hips and pulled himself inside, slow and steady. As Murakami’s long, strong shaft entered, he heard a long, heavy moan from Ichijou, with an audible shiver in his voice. “Gh-h-h-haaah...”, - then Ichijou sunk slightly to the right, to his elbow, sighing “Hah...”, which was surprisingly high in pitch.
Murakami, a bit worried, asked: “Is... is everything ok, Ichijou?” Turning around to face him, Ichijou smiled. “You have no clue... for how long I waited for this... M-Murakami...” he whispered, with a happy melancholic softness to his voice.
“Boss...” sighed Murakami, nearly growing sombre at this nostalgic statement - when he took the reins of his heart again, and pulled himself together. “I’ll give my best. ” he murmured back and smiled, caressing Ichijou’s back.
Murakami began to move, sliding in and out, gently, with a firm grip on Ichijou’s hips. It was intense - Ichijou was very tight, and paired together with his hardness, the feeling was amazing. The thick lube made their actions effortless, and they could feel each other vividly. “Hah... Gnh...” moaned Murakami, his breath already becoming shorter, his loins softly slapping against Ichijou. He hadn’t imagined in his wildest dreams that this would ever happen, but now that it did, it was miraculous. Ichijou’s sighs and moans reacting to every thrust were beautiful: “Hah! Gnh! Hnn!” Ichijou had sunken further down, supporting himself on his right elbow, his long hair now touching the table top, his mouth wide open, his eyebrows furrowed in passion, gasping and panting hard. “Yes! Gnh! Mura! Kami! Hah!”
To have sex while standing was extraordinary as well, the freedom and position gave the whole situation a dirtier, obscene feeling. Sweat started to run down their foreheads and legs, Murakami thrusting harder and faster, his grip on Ichijou becoming stronger. “Oh yes... Hah...! Gnh...!” he gasped, feeling himself sliding in and out of Ichijou, deeper into his hot, wet, narrow anus. He grit his teeth, it was making him drunk with passion. This fast, strong rhythm was insane. Ichijou, panting loudly, slightly drooling from the edge of his open mouth, changed hastily his position by grabbing the edge of the table with both hands, and then pushed himself backwards against Murakami. He immediately started grinding against him in wave motions, his moans becoming only louder, faster, naughtier and harsher: “Hah! Fuck! Yes! Mura!! Kami!!”, his smooth hair flipping through the air, as he threw his head back in erotic joy. Murakami gasped loudly, “Hah!!” as Ichijou did this, but responded without hesitation, thrusting stronger, syncing up their movements. The loud slapping noises of their combined sexual strength made the whole act more pornographic, Ichijou’s loud, pleading moans, begging for more only added to it. “Y-Yes!! Harder!! D-Deeper!! Hah!!” he screamed, filling the room with his desirous voice. Murakami sighed loudly, only getting stronger in his thrusts, putting his back into it, reaching the deepest point of Ichijou, stimulating his spot, while feeling this tight warmth twitching around his hard, rigid cock.
Ichijou’s head hung down, unable to keep it up in this act, his long hair caressing his cheeks, taking in all the extreme combined power from behind, feeling his own raging hard erection, dripping with precum on the floor. His eyes were filled with foggy lust, his grip on the table edge intensifying, his straight legs nearly trembling under the powerful sensation. “Hah!! Hah!! Yes!! Ngnh!!” He wanted more. So much more. He wanted Murakami. He wanted to see him. He hadn’t seen his beautiful face for so long.
Turning around, looking over his shoulder, while still getting fucked hard, Ichijou addressed him, gasping for air: “Mura... Kami...”, he swallowed hard, trying to not drool some more, “Please... I want you... on... t-this... table...” he whispered in a hoarse voice. Murakami suddenly stopped, not believing what he was hearing. “B-Boss...?” he asked. “Yes... I want... t-to ride you...” said Ichijou, his face full of wet eroticism - tongue sticking out slightly, breathless panting, hair in chaotic disorder, sweat and drool running off him.
Murakami slid out of Ichijou, surprised and breathless, and let Ichijou recollect his breath. Ichijou nearly sunk a bit into his knees, then turned around, leaning against the office table again, looking straight into his eyes. Murakami could see the want in Ichijou’s eyes. Tired, but still strong and passionate, his stare ran right through his brain into his heart. Panting heavily, Ichijou put his hand on Murakami’s shoulder and sighed heavily, each sentence piece with a new breath: “I w-want... to ride you... just as... I had a-always dreamed ... of...”
With feverish expression, he came closer to Murakami’s face, his hot breath caressing his skin, and immediately kissed him deep, parting his lips, his tongue entering him, sliding across his, moaning into the embrace. Murakami’s eyes widened, he had not expected this, but fell for the kiss, groaning back into it, “Hngh... Ichi... jou... Ngh...”, being flooded with Ichijou’s excessive passion and lust. His kisses were so intense, so far-reaching, so erotically charged, it was beyond imagination. Quite literally: Murakami never had imagined this scenario to unfold when he took the decision to follow Ichijou underground. He kissed Ichijou back, meeting again and again, in wet, strong responses, strings of saliva showing, and with noises of vivid affection from both.
In a haze of thoughts, Murakami parted from Ichijou and walked to the table, then threw everything off with a single wipe of his arm - pens, paper and files falling, clattering to the ground. Murakami sat on the empty office desk, panting, sighing, then lay himself on his back on the desk, looking at Ichijou, who, short on breath, was licking his lips at this sight. “Ichi...jou...” whispered Murakami, looking deep into his eyes.
Ichijou approached the table, and ran his hand over Murakami’s chest lying before him. It was so big, so strong. Reaching over to the other side, one knee on the table edge, he climbed on top of the desk, and then stood on all fours, on his hands and knees, above Murakami. He smiled and came up to his face, closer, closer; his hair brushing along Murakami’s cheeks, and whispered, just audible enough. His lips so near to his skin, his breath caressing his face, he breathed “I want you... Murakami...” With a second soft breath, he added, now his lips nearly touching Murakami’s ear: “I want you inside of me... I want to feel you... Mura...Kami...” in a tone so full of want and pure sex, Murakami could only turn his head away and clasp his mouth with his hand. “Hnh...!” he trembled - he didn’t want to cum through Ichijou’s words alone. (He hadn’t even thought that such a thing was possible in the first place.) Out of the corner of his eyes he saw that Ichijou had risen, kneeling above him. He slowly turned his head back. From this low angle, he could see Ichijou in all his glory:
The long, smooth hair that seemed to lovingly embrace his shoulders, the perfect face, the heaving chest, the delicate, hard nipples, the abs glistening in sweat, his curves, that ended like a masterful artistic brushstroke in his hips, his muscular thighs touching his loins, sitting in his lap... and this strong, hard, upright erection, that was all just for him. Murakami looked straight at Ichijou, taking his hand down from his mouth, parting his lips, softly gasping in awe. Ichijou looked back into his eyes, full of bliss, anticipation, happiness and panting beauty. It was exactly this he loved. Murakami’s gentle, supportive nature, and this big, strong frame. Seeing Murakami’s face reacting to him and his actions, made him happy, to the bottom of his very heart.
Imagination was one thing. But reality was so much better.
Ichijou shuffled on his knees to get into the correct position, then reached down with one hand, and grabbed Murakami’s hard shaft, who sighed upon touch. He then led it between his legs, this little warm space, and guided the tip to his anus. With a dirty sigh, letting go of Murakami’s member, he sat down.
His dick slid gradually into him, Ichijou grit his teeth and looked down, taking in all the hardness at once. “Nnnnnh-h...” Murakami’s eyes widened, he felt his own head tilting backwards and himself looking at the ceiling from this tight, warm sensation around his cock. “Haaah...” he moaned, Ichijou was so narrow and wet, his thoughts were stopped in their tracks - only intense feeling remained. With a hard sigh from Ichijou, Murakami’s dick completely went in.
“Nngh...” moaned Ichijou, trying to get accustomed to the sheer size inside of him. He slowly started moving his hips, supporting himself on the table, and bowed down towards Murakami’s face. “I can feel you... Inside of m-me...” stammered Ichijou, a massive blush breaking out on his cheeks. Murakami could see the sweat running down Ichijou’s face, feel his breath hit his lips, and see himself inside Ichijou. He murmured back, in hasty intervals: “Y-Yes... I can... F-Feel you too...” Ichijou rose again, and put his hands on Murakami’s chest, squeezing it. Ichijou smiled, seeing Murakami beneath him, looking up in awe and passion, and he decided to grind stronger, letting his hips gyrate faster. He could feel Murakami’s hard cock sliding in and out of him, panting hard with every thrust. “Hah...! Gnh...! Hngh...!” grinned Ichijou, holding on to Murakami’s chest and grinding himself against him. Murakami sighed and put his hands on Ichijou’s thighs, grabbing them carefully. “I-Ichijou...!” gasped Murakami, in mixture of disbelief and lust, feeling Ichijou's leg muscles twitch and move under his palms.
Murakami looked up at Ichijou. It was like he always had imagined, just so much better. As his eyes trailed Ichijou's lasciviously moving, sensual body above him, something clicked in his brain.
This was Ichijou. This was reality.
He was his. And he belonged to him. They were together.
Finally.
Murakami, overwhelmed by a flood of previously bottled-up emotions, rose, wrapped his arms around Ichijou, and muttered loudly "I-Ichijou!!" He then started moving his hips as well, stronger, faster, essentially fucking Ichijou from below, holding him tight.
Ichijou, surprised by this sudden action, gasped loudly. The sensation was just too strong, Murakami's hard cock going in and out of him, stimulating him stronger in combination with his own grinding moves. "Ngh! Hah! Gah!" he drooled, getting even more aroused.
Murakami let go of Ichijou, and grabbed his thighs again, moving him in wave motions, letting him slide up and down his hard cock - Ichijou arched his back, and ran his hands through his hair, screaming: "AH! YES! OH GOD, YES!" Ichijou rode him, his hips so smooth in their moves, his anus so tight, and feeling his hard erection so deep inside him.
Ichijou was thoroughly enjoying himself. "HNGH! HAH! YES!" His breath was getting shorter, his hair got darker and heavier with sweat, strands of hair sticking to his forehead, his open mouth gasping for air, his eyes closed, his brows furrowed, his arms crossed behind his head, taking in all the sex and passion he could, lust and stimulation growing inside of him. He arched his back further, threw his head back, grinded his loins harder, felt Murakami's strong hands on his thighs, going along with the rythm... it was insane.
Suddenly, he felt an additional flash of passion hit him from down below. Murakami had grabbed Ichijou's rigid, hard erection, and started stroking it. He looked up to Ichijou, panting and gasping, his hand sliding up and down, in the exact same rythm as their combined sex. Ichijou looked back, his open mouth twitching into a smile, and then he fully felt it.
"OH GOD! YES!! YES!!! GAAH!!!" Ichijou screamed, the double stimulation of Murakami's handjob and his powerful dick inside of him was too much. He threw his head back, his hair flying through the air, his open mouth gasping for air, his back muscles contracting, his own hips moving faster, harder, stronger, getting fucked and touched so strongly. He ran his hands through his long hair, not being able to contain his excitement anymore. "YES!! MURAKAMI!!" he yelled, drowning in passion and overwhelming feelings, Murakami answered, gritting his teeth, feeling Ichijou get tighter around his cock, his dick trembling in his hands, waiting for release, "G-GAH!! I-ICHIJOU!!". They became faster, more intense, louder, the slapping noises of Murakami entering Ichijou reaching unimaginable heights.
Ichijou's dick was throbbing in Murakami's strong hand, his prostate getting stimulated by his raging hard cock, hitting the right spot deep inside of him, spreading warmth and lust through his whole body, he could feel his own tightness, getting spread by Murakami's size and hardness - Murakami couldn't take more either, Ichijou was so obscene, so beautiful to watch, his noises being so naughty, but so right, clenching around his dick, sliding up and down in wave motions, nearly cutting off his breath, feeling his hard manhood in his hands, ready to ejaculate, this beautiful body, this luscious hair flying through the air -
"M-MURAKAMI!! I'M ABOUT- TO CUM!!" yelled Ichijou, his voice reaching extraordinary volume and height, his face being destroyed by emotion, sweating profusely, his eyes turning upwards, his mouth wide open, drooling onto his own chest, his hair in complete disarray, "I-ICHIJOU!! M-ME TOO!!" screamed Murakami, his grip on Ichijou's thighs and shaft intensifying, his hand sliding rapidly over Ichijou's soaked cock, going so strong that it made his arm tremble, their bodies in complete sync, every stroke and thrust so fast and strong, so tight, so wet, so loud, they were so close, so close to cumming, their combined orgasm building up for so long and ready to -
"GAAAAAAAAAAAAHAH-" yelled Ichijou, shooting hot, white, thick cum in several long, harsh shots, splattering it all over his own chest and Murakami's, "HHHHNNNGGGNAAAAAAAAH-" screamed Murakami, louder than he expected, filling Ichijou's narrow, tight anus with warm cum, leaking and squirting all over his own cock and balls - the amount had been nearly far too much, from both of them.
Only hard panting could be heard now, Ichijou's eyes were wide open, his breath completely unfocused, and he stared off into space, falling forward and supporting himself on the table, muttering: "Oh God...! Hah...! Hngh...!" Murakami on the other hand couldn't say anything, his arms slid off Ichijou's thighs and he let them hang off the office table. Cum dripped off his hand to the floor. "Hah... Gah... Hnh..." he sighed, completely exhausted by what had just happened.
Excessively blinking, Ichijou tried to regain control over his breath, and looked at Murakami beneath him. They both looked done, physically and emotionally. Ichijou smiled at Murakami's drained face and bowed forward, then planted a little kiss on his lips. "I love you." he whispered with a slow blink. Murakami snapped out of his trance, and whispered back, putting his clean, tired hand up to Ichijou's cheek: "I love you too." They smiled, satisfied, happy and fully overjoyed in powerlessness, and met again, for a second soft, slow kiss, delicately nipping at each other's lips.
They parted from the kiss, beaming with happiness. Ichijou then cleared his throat and asked coyly: "Er... Murakami? How are we getting down from here without making a mess?" Murakami chuckled, then said: "It's my office, we can do whatever we want." Ichijou laughed, and carefully got up. Murakami's cock slid out of him, cum dripping on the table top, and Ichijou climbed down the desk and stretched himself with a big groan. "Hhhhhnghhh!" he grunted, his arms far above his head, back arched, and standing on his tiptoes. Murakami looked at this beautiful image, then got up as well, and sat upright on his office table. He hopped down, walked around his office desk, and took out a small towel from his drawer, handing it to Ichijou, who wiped himself off from all sweat and semen; Murakami did so too.
Murakami then strolled over towards the wardrobe. Opening up the creaking wooden door, he took out something big, yellow and poofy. He came back, and handed one of the things to Ichijou. He unfolded it. "A bathrobe!" remarked Ichijou very surprised. "For you to wear." said Murakami, while putting on his, "You don't want to get back into your working clothes again now, do you?" he added with a smile. Ichijou blushed and smiled too, then put on the big, cosy bathrobe. It was thick and fuzzy, and it felt fantastic against his skin, wrapping him in snug warmth.
Then, Murakami went over to the sofa corner and reached inside the tiny fridge. He took out a bottle of Champagne, reached behind the sofa, and pulled out to glasses. With both of these things in his hands, he grinned at Ichijou. "Care for a little drink?" Ichijou's heart swelled, two little tears into the corners of his eyes and a big, crumply smile came over his face. "Murakami..." he whispered in a quivering tone, "You really think about everything, don't you?" Murakami, while opening the bottle and pouring two glasses masterfully, closed his eyes and nodded softly: "For you always, Boss."
They both took a glass and they softly clinked against each other, both saying, "Cheers!" and taking a sip. It was pure bliss for Ichijou, who had only drunken water for the last few months.
Both sat down on the sofa, placed their glasses on the coffee table and Ichijou snuggled up against Murkami, who, in return, put his arm around Ichijou and caressed his back. Cuddling against each other, they sat there, placidly, without saying a word, enjoying the proximity and warmth.
Ichijou lifted his head, and started caressing Murakami's chest: "I can't believe that your are here... With you here undergound, everything will be different." Murkami patted Ichijou's head. "Yes. You have an ally on the other side now, and together, we can do this." Ichijou fell sombre, looked up to Murakami and murmured: "But it will still take one thousand and fifty years for me to pay this off. I don't know how we can find a way around this... Even if we reduced the numbers down by 90%, which is already pretty hefty, I would still have to stay one hundred and five years here." Murakami gently smiled and answered calmly: "Then I will stay with you here, for one hundred and five years."
Tears immediatly shot into Ichijou's eyes. His lips quivering, his eyes big and watery, he started sobbing, his voice breaking down into a mess: "Murakamiii-hee-hee!!" and dug his face into Murakami's big, floofy bath-robed chest. Murakami put both his arms around Ichijou and hugged him closely. Tears showed up in his eyes as well. "I will never leave your side again, Boss." Hot tears ran down both of their cheeks. Ichijou was crying and bawling into Murakami's chest, his hands clinging on to him, while Murakami's tears dripped off his chin, on Ichijou's smooth hair. They held each other, not letting go.
Sniffling and wiping away his tears, Ichijou looked up at Murakami again, and said with big red eyes: "Well, Murakami, you always call me 'Boss', but... aren't you the Boss now?" The biggest blush ever appeared on Murakami's face. "Wha- What do you mean?" His face seemed to radiate red heat of embarrassment. Ichijou smirked and caressed Murakami's cheeks, wiping away his tears with his thumb, "You are the manager of this mining wing, so you are my supervisor now... Boss."
Murakami shuffled nervously on the sofa, looking around frantcially, and muttering: "B-But... You are the Boss!" Ichijou sat up straight, put his arms around Murkami's big shoulders and came close to his ear. His lips brushing his earlobes, he whispered "Boss..." Murakami did a little noise that sounded somewhere between a high pitched whimper and an excited gasp. "Heek!"
A big smile showed up on Ichijou's face and he continued whispering and giggling: "Boss... Boss Murakamiiii... You are my Boss now...!" and gently pushed down Murakami on the sofa, back into a lying position. Panting and extremly blushing, going along with the motion, Murakami hesitantly muttered: "I-I... I am not! I can't accept this! T-This is your title!" Ichijou lay on top of him now, a big grin on his face. "You know that I will tease you with this from now on, my best Murakami?" he asked tauntingly. A worried smile gently appeared on Murakami's face. "Mh-hm!" he nodded. "Th-This will take some getting used to...!"
With a big happy sigh, Ichijou laid down again. He clung to Murakami's chest anew, and wrapped his arms around him, his legs running between Murakami's. "I feel like I could take on the whole world when I'm with you." Murakami put his arms around Ichijou's hips and pulled him closer. "Me too, Ichijou. Together we can do this."
And so, they lay on the sofa, cuddled up against each other, looking deep into each others eyes. With a little pant and a smile, Ichijou whispered: "I love you..." and Murakami gently answered: "I love you too..."
Their lips met with loving care and deep affection. Softly touching, slowly, again and again.
They didn't knew "how" or "when" they would escape this underground hell, but they were sure that they would make their way up again.
Together, they could do this. No matter how long it would take, they had each other.
And in the end, that was the most important thing.
They were finally together.
The End.