Tokyo Ink (Gay SF Erotica)

couldn’t deal with him naked, not all golden-skinned like he was now with sunlight from the window shimmering over his flesh and those slate blue eyes staring out at him.
    “When are you going to trust me?”
    Tetsu bit at his lip, trying not to repeat several weeks’ worth of bad answers. That the answers were all true didn’t make them any easier to hear or say, and he didn’t want another heated argument between them.
    You’re a spoiled little rich kid playing a dangerous game.
    Off-balanced.
    Mental.
    You frighten the ever-loving fuck out of me.
    That last one was the biggest truth. And it wasn’t because the dancer was half-crazy. It was the way Gabe made him feel whenever he thought about him. His chest tightened, his balls ached, his thoughts began to spin until he was dizzy from it. How would it feel when he found out it was all a lie? Or to find out it was real and then lose him? There were hit squads hunting for them, all looking to collect kill bounties of more than a million doyen each, and the streets would be flooded in a week with escaped prisoners. Eighty percent of those freed were harmless victims of the body corporate. But there was no way to free them without releasing the other twenty percent. Everyone’s safe little world was about to be flipped upside down. Collateral damage was a given.
    “When are you going to answer me?”
    Droll but precise, Gabe’s question forced Tetsu to look at him. He reminded himself not to look at the dancer too long. The room would start spinning, growing smaller until Gabe seemed within reach. And he couldn’t allow that -- he couldn’t reach out.
    “Maybe when you tell me the real reason you keep trying to seduce me.” Alarm bells sounded in his head, distant and faint as they warned him to look away. He risked a few more seconds of looking at Gabe, hoping the answer would finally be one he could accept.
    “How about, I’m bored and I like to fuck and it’s been a month?”
    Gabe’s flippancy angered Tetsu. When the warning sounded again to look away, Tetsu listened, answering over his shoulder, “I’m sure at least one of the guards would oblige you.”
    There, he’d said something stupid, hurtful, and the exact opposite of what he wanted. He forced his attention to the monitor, silently praying Gabe would give him the chance to take the words back. And if he didn’t? If Gabe left the room and went outside to where the guards were and picked one to fuck or suck? Tetsu closed his eyes and tried not to picture Gabe’s tanned skin slick with sweat as he twisted in the arms of another man.
    He turned toward the bed. “Gabe, you know…”
    Empty.
    He leaned forward, half rising from his chair to look into the next room. Gabe’s door was closing, the bedroom light flicking on. Tetsu fell back into the chair half relieved. The arguments, at least, were getting shorter.
    And the silences longer.
    * * *
    Late evening and Gabe was still in his room. Tetsu stared at the door, willed it to open. When it didn’t, he turned the vid screen in the front room on and wandered aimlessly around the small space. He wanted to be standing when Gabe finally left his bedroom. Alone in his own room for hours, Tetsu had seized on the thought as some odd psychological imperative. He wanted Gabe to come out into the front room, and he wanted to be standing. Everything would be fine then.
    Provided he was standing.
    Damn! The little danshou’s craziness was rubbing off. Waiting was stupid. If Gabe wouldn’t come out, he’d go in. He let the small globe he had picked up in his trip around the room fall to the carpet. He walked to Gabe’s bedroom, lifted his hand to knock, decided that would be asking permission to enter, and dropped his hand to the doorknob.
    The room was dark, lit only by the glow of the vid screen in the front room. He flipped the light switch. Nothing. He made his way to the bed. He could feel Gabe’s clothes underfoot -- the jeans he’d worn that morning, the t-shirt and shorts, belts, a shoe. Distressing, the way they brushed against him and the uncharacteristic mess.
    He sat down, clumsy in the dark, and reached for Gabe. The dancer was on his side, close to the wall and facing it. Tetsu ran his fingertips down Gabe’s side, finding only bare flesh. Gabe shook his hand away and moved closer to the wall.
    “Your light’s out.” Lame observation. He should have said something else. He should have said he was sorry. Or told Gabe how