He laughs, lips against Daisuke’s bruising skin. “You’re so fucking weird, always asking shit like that.”
Still, he’s pulling Daisuke’s shirt open and throwing it haphazardly to the side. The blood’s already made it unsalvageable, he’s sure, and Shinya can always get him a new one.
“She thought I wanted to come over as a date,” he murmurs. “It was almost too easy getting her close.
“She screamed real pretty when I banged her head on the counter, though.”
And it hadn’t been enough to do more than concuss her, either. “She asked me what was wrong, you know.” Shinya’s fingers undo the fastenings to Daisuke’s trousers. “I picked up her kitchen knife and she started to cry because she didn’t understand.
“Think she got the picture when I cracked her femur under my shoe, though.”
His hand curls around Daisuke’s cock over his underwear, squeezing. “Are you happy to hear she cried while trying to crawl away, Dai-chan?”
“Tch. You love having a partner that’s invested in your work,” Daisuke scoffs. He moves with Shinya’s direction, mentally priding himself on bringing extra clothes every time. After all, they never leave without staining each other. Best not to look like a killer after spending so much time trying to cover it up.
Moaning lowly, Daisuke’s not entirely certain if it was the hold on his cock or the description of what Shinya’s done to her.
“Serves her right. Fucking idiot. Thinking she can have you. Thinking she can take you from me,” he bites out, one hand’s worth of fingertips digging into Shinya’s shoulder.
Despite how invested he’s been in Shinya’s favorite hobby since Daisuke stumbled upon it, he’s only ever helped with the cleanup. But, for a moment, he finds himself wishing he had been the one to make her beg. Make her regret ever looking at his partner twice.
Shinya is his as much as he’s Shinya’s, and nothing brings out that rage quelling deep in his gut quite like someone trying to get in their way.
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