My Yakuza

never see Keizo again. The air was thick with unspoken feeling.
“Shiro.”
He turned, hope hammering in his soul.
Keizo’s gaze burned into his.
“Travel safe, the roads are very wet.”
“Hai. Thank you, I will.”
Shiro wondered what Keizo really wanted to say and tried to shake the image of kneeling between the gifted artist’s legs and sucking his cock.
His cell phone rang as he walked outside. His feet touched the wet pavement. He’d forgotten his shoes inside. The front door clicked shut. He had no choice but to press the buzzer again. When Keizo heard his voice, he was silent for a beat.
“Come upstairs,” he said.
Shiro was worried that Keizo would call Shiro’s immediate obayun, or boss, Nobuo-san. He wondered how he could apologise for disturbing the great artist’s valuable work time, not to mention his privacy. He heard the ping of the elevator door and stepped towards Keizo’s apartment.
The artist stood there naked, smiling.
“You like?” he asked.
Shiro’s cock stirred in his pants. He stared at Keizo, taking in ever beautiful inch of him.
“Come in, Shiro-san, let me touch you.”
Shiro felt he was in a dream as he walked inside. He could hear the rain starting again as Keizo’s kisses began on his temple, down Shiro’s cheek and finishing at last on Shiro’s waiting mouth. Keizo’s kisses became more insistent, his tongue moving into Shiro’s hot mouth. He tasted strawberries on the other man’s tongue and tried not to think of his mother.
Keizo took all of Shiro’s clothes off, inspecting his body.
“Lovely. I know you are part Japanese. What else?”
“Hawaiian.” Shiro bent, claiming Keizo’s cock with his hungry mouth.
Keizo laughed. “Wait, sweet one. Wait.”
He took Shiro’s hand and led him past rows and rows of Japanese screens to a small room with a raised platform. There was a futon mattress on it, one of Keizo’s male nudes adoring the wall above it.
“Lie down,” Keizo instructed.
The black bedding was surprisingly soft. Shiro’s hot gaze remained on the artist whose cock was half hard. Something made Shiro glance to the long, lacquered table against the wall. There were all the packages of pencils and brushes he’d delivered to Keizo.
“You didn’t need them all?” he asked.
Keizo lit some candles and dimmed the lights.
“I needed the first package. The rest…were all about you.” He reached over, picking up two of the brushes and came to the bed, kneeling beside Shiro. His cock was getting harder.
“May I touch it…please?” Shiro begged.
“Of course.” Keizo leant back, allowing Shiro to lick and fondle his cock. It wasn’t huge but it was perfect. Shiro began to suck it, but Keizo urged him to lay back.
Holding the two long brushes in his hand, Keizo swept them across Shiro’s belly, swirling first one, then the other into his belly button.
The sensations were exquisite. He felt ripples of pleasure soaring through him. Keizo moved the brushes down his thighs, meeting just under his ball sac. Keizo bent, pressing soft kisses against them.
“Your cock is perfect,” Keizo whispered, making small, feathery movements with the bristles against Shiro’s ball sac. He could feel the pattern. A figure eight.
No, infinity.
Keizo began to work on Shiro’s cock, which hardened under the man’s surprisingly erotic brushwork. Shiro blinked. His cock felt as if it was on fire. The brushes moved opposite each other, then up in one sweep and down again. Each time Keizo drew the bristles up his shaft, Shiro felt the pressure increase. Keizo bent once more, Shiro’s cock head touching the artist’s chin as his tongue pressed into Shiro’s belly button again.
Shiro cried out. He couldn’t believe how intense his pleasure was.
“Oh, fuck me, Keizo.”
He couldn’t believe he was saying such words. Keizo ignored him. He was in his own zone, drunk with his own power. He slid the magic brushes up along Shiro’s shaft again.
“Open your legs, beautiful boy.”
Shiro obeyed. He felt his teeth chattering with need as Keizo took his time criss-crossing the brushes against his perineum and up to his ball sac. Shiro longed to feel the soft brush heads against his ass hole. His legs opened wider. Keizo murmured his approval. Shiro felt open, vulnerable but incapable of doing anything but surrendering as the bristles made a determined swathe across his ass cheeks. Shiro squirmed to get the bristles right on his ass hole. He sighed when Keizo allowed them there at last.
Their gazes locked.
Keizo waited a moment, and then began a frantic upward brushing with the two bristled-heads. It felt as if a giant, rough tongue worked on his opening and Shiro groaned. He was going to come. Keizo bent his head again, his brushes in one hand now, gently stroking Shiro’s ass as he sucked the thrashing man’s cock.
Shiro came so hard, he couldn’t see anything when he opened his eyes but bright, purple strokes, slashes, behind his eyes.
“What colour did you see?” Keizo asked when he released him.
“Purple,” Shiro said.
Keizo smiled. “Show me.”
Shiro gaped. “Show you?”
Keizo rose, his cock hard and jutting up towards his taught belly. He moved to the table, bringing back tiny black jars and the two brushes as well as a piece of parchment. He lay on the bed beside Shiro, who thought nothing could be sexier than lying here naked with this gorgeous man.
He could feel Keizo’s cock at his ass cheeks and yearned for it.
“Soon, boy, soon.” Keizo positioned everything on a tray in front of Shiro, submitting at last to a kiss from Shiro.
“Now,” he said. “Show me.”
Shiro found it hard to tear his gaze away from Keizo’s face but he forced himself. Keizo mixed colours on a plate.
“Take over for me.”
Shiro took a brush and added a little white, mixing the colours. He watched Keizo lift a condom package from the tray and heard him open it. He felt the man’s beautiful monster poking at his ass. Keizo looked over his shoulder.
“Paint for me, Shiro-san. Please.”
“But I can’t paint.”
“Yes, you can. Paint for me.”
Keizo disappeared behind him and Shiro’s soul did a two-step when Keizo started licking his ass. The second Shiro