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Daisuke was used to people making sexual advances toward him all the time—be it for his looks, his money, his influence—the list of his attractive qualities went on as indefinitely as his bank account. This was, however, the first time he’d ever been propositioned to by a detective, and a male one at that.
It happened while Daisuke was out on the roof for a smoke, his gaze drifting between the Tokyo skyscrapers and the bustling people of the city underneath him.
“Hey! What the hell was that?” The voice (adult male) sounded irritated.
“What?” He asked disinterestedly, slanting his eyes to look at a man (early to mid-thirties) in what had to be the ugliest looking tan coat he’s ever seen (Reporter Lite Jacket, worn nearly every day if the dull color indicated anything). He scanned the interrupter up and down, wondering why he looked so familiar.
It’s with the man’s next words that everything clicked into place and Daisuke finally recognized the stranger as the detective with the martyr complex, the one who had jumped into the AC Cobra with him and risked his life to save that worthless female criminal.
“That’s not the way a cop handles things. You’re no superhero. Infinite lives would not be enough.”
Infinite lives would not be enough?
It was hard to keep himself from outright laughing at that—of course, infinite lives wouldn’t be enough. Unlimited money, however, was more than enough. Was this his weird way of expressing his concern for Daisuke’s well-being? How adorable.
But he couldn’t just be here to check up on Daisuke, now could he? No, Daisuke had long since learned that that was not the way the world worked. Everything—everyone had a hidden price tag. It was only a matter of locating it before you got scammed.
He mused over what else the detective could be confronting him about. Was he seeking some sort of apology for Daisuke not lending him a hand as he dangled from the bascule bridge? Helping him up would’ve involved touching him, which would have resulted in his bloodied prints getting all over Daisuke’s brand new Dormeuil Vanquish II. While Daisuke could have just as easily bought another suit, he figured it required less effort to let the man work out how to get up himself. How was he supposed to know the man had no upper body strength whatsoever and that he would fall into the river instead?
If he was upset about that, however, he would’ve started the conversation off by saying something along the lines of, “Why the hell did you let me fall into the river?!” wouldn’t he? So it was something else, something more—
Daisuke caught the other man’s analytic gaze on him, the curiosity and frustration within those odd silver eyes clear even from the distance he was standing at.
Ah, there it is.
Proud at himself for having solved yet another case, he smirked. “I see. So, how much?”
The beige-haired man stared dumbfoundedly at him for a few seconds before the meaning of his words finally sunk in and his eyes alighted with fury. Daisuke’s breath caught in his throat—from the cigar, he’s sure—and he thought to himself that maybe one romp in the bedsheets with this man wouldn’t be the worst thing in the world.
“Bastard!” The detective began to angrily stalk towards him, fist raised threateningly and spots of red staining his cheeks.
His smirk grew. His previous conquests had not been nearly half as feisty as this one—he begrudgingly admitted that this might actually be interesting. When the man entered his proximity, he swiftly reached out and took a hold of his raised wrist, tugging him in until they were pressed up against one another.
“W-What the hell do you think you’re doing?!” The man spluttered, hands lifting to frantically push Daisuke away.
Daisuke dropped his cigar in favor of maneuvering both of the detective’s wrists into one of his hands, gazing down smugly at the flustered man in his clutches. He was quite pretty like this—yes, it was decided. Daisuke would have him.
“What’s your price?” He inquired, leaning down to get a closer view of his latest acquisition. “I’ll double it.”
“L-Let me go, you asshole!” The detective bent over backward to avoid their faces getting any closer. Seeing his unexpected flexibility only further piqued Daisuke’s interest. “I don’t want your stupid money!”
Didn’t want his money?
Daisuke blinked, momentarily shocked before he scoffed. “Ah, understood. Then what are your preferred methods of payment?” He slipped his free hand around the man’s back, pleased with the muscles he found there, before sliding his hand lower until his arm was wrapped around the detective’s waist. “Or will the sex itself be enough for you?”
Abruptly, the man’s struggling froze, his eyes widening almost comically. This close, Daisuke could see that the color that he had originally thought to be silver was really more of a pale gold. It reminded him of a 20 yen coin. He liked that, too, and he mentally added another point in the detective's favor.
“The what.”
Shame he seemed a bit slow, though. Daisuke didn’t enjoy repeating himself.
“The sex, darling.” The endearment slipped out almost automatically now that Daisuke perceived the other man to be a potential shag. “How much for the night?” Or the week, depending on how good he was. Daisuke had a feeling they would be very compatible together, and his instincts rarely ever led him astray.
Silence met his question and Daisuke clicked his teeth in annoyance, allowing the man one last chance. “I said: How much for the—”
In a flash of beige, the detective ripped his hands free and lifted one of his legs to kick Daisuke back. Luckily, Daisuke’s athletic abilities were skillfully honed and he dodged the attempt, frowning. Attacking Daisuke notwithstanding, his physical capabilities seemed to be in good shape, earning him another approval point.
“What the fuck is wrong with you?” The investigator stood a good twenty feet away from him now, hands clenched into fists by his side and legs spread defensively. “Who the fuck said anything about s-sex?!”
Was he embarrassed by Daisuke’s bluntness? Perhaps this was his first time exchanging sexual favors.
“You’re new to this, aren’t you? Very well, I can be discrete if I must—”
“New to what, you shit! I’m not new to anything because whatever the hell you think this is, it’s not!” His mortification had him stumbling over his words in a manner Daisuke found far too fetching. It wasn’t like him to take interest in bumbling fools, but there was something about his strong voice and passionate eyes that had Daisuke reconsidering that.
“I don’t understand—”
“Yeah, you don’t!” He spat, his blush spreading. “Just, just—ugh!” The detective spun on his heel, heading for the exit. “Fuck off!”
Daisuke watched his retreating back, unable to resist dropping his gaze to admire the way the man’s cheap grey slacks hugged his lean thighs and firm backside.
Reaching into his suit pocket for another cigar, he lit it and took a smoke before he said, “Heusc. The man I was just talking to—grey hair, amber eyes, works for the Modern Crime Prevention Taskforce.”
“By my records, I believe you are describing Katou Haru, sir.”
“Give me everything you can find on him.”
He would have Katou Haru, one way or another. After all, it was only a matter of finding his price.