The Promotion
6/2000

Disclaimers: I don't own the characters from Ruroni Kenshin in any way, shape or form. Not that this isn't so A/U, that it almost becomes pointless...
^.^;;; nonetheless.. I'm not attempting to infringe on ANYones rights! Don't sue me!
Notes: Answering the Crimson Ink Fic Challenge, Unrepentant, irredeemable, PWP smut. Enjoy.
Warnings: bd, n/c, lemon with n/c body art. ^.~

Aoshi Shinomori, data management specialist I, employee number 457-9886S of the Miburo Corporation of Tokyo (ltd.), sank miserably into the seat in his featureless grey cubicle as the last of the day's light streamed in through his department's windows, some five cubes over. Like the others in the Data Acquisition and Management Department, he was eagerly awaiting Section Chief Saitoh's departure. It was bad form to leave before the manager, and Saitoh, well aware of that fact, often lingered for hours.

Aoshi looked at his watch and tried not to groan. While Miburo was a prosperous company, his own prospects were not particularly shining. His salary was barely enough to keep a roof over the heads of himself and his little sister, Misao, let alone keep them fed and pay for her schooling.

To that end, he'd taken a second job at night, pouring drinks and making conversation at a low-end host club. The patrons, mostly foreign businessmen, would paw him, call him pretty in their abysmal Japanese, and then normally pass out at some point. But they tipped, unlike most local guests.

The light in Saitoh's office clicked off, and the Section Chief exited for the night, his heavy coat draped over his arm. The collective sigh of relief that rippled through the department made the rangy, older man smirk. Aoshi glanced back down at his watch, the hands just ticking to 6 p.m. If he hurried, he wouldn't have to give Takiko-san another round of idiot excuses as to why he was late to the bar again.

He pulled his duffel bag with the faded Nike logo out from under his desk, shutting down his computer as he did. Misao often chided him about being a workout fanatic, believing the bag to hold gym clothes. He was perfectly content with her assumption. It was too embarrassing to explain the truth.

The department employees hustled out of the office, Aoshi trailing behind to avoid getting sucked into the endless attempts to get him to go drinking after work. The one time he'd gone had been an unmitigated disaster from his perspective, finding himself cornered in the men's room by Takahashi and a few of the others from the office. Thoroughly inebriated, they'd called him a tease and offered him a chance to "climb their corporate ladders" as it were.

The advances stopped after Aoshi had repeatedly smacked Takahashi's head into the urinal, explaining to drunken man that he'd slipped on the wet floor. He still cringed at the thought. He still had the reflexes of a gang member, even though those days were hopefully long behind him. Since Grandpa died, he had to be respectable for Misao's sake if nothing else.

He was so lost in thought, it was several moments before he realized that he was alone in the hallway. His watch ticked over to 6:15 and he cursed, stabbing at the elevator button.

"last one out, Shinomori? I'm surprised. You're usually in such a hurry.." Aoshi's blood ran cold at the sardonically amused voice behind him. Slowly he turned around. "....Taicho... sir... you're still.. here?" He said slowly, dumbly even, as the yellow eyes fixed on him.

"I just wanted to see which slackers were first out the door..." the section chief lit a cigarette and offered one to Aoshi. He took it a little too quickly, hand shaking. The very last thing he wanted to do was piss off the older man. Saitoh had never been particularly evil to him, as he had a wont to be with employees who got on his bad side, but Aoshi had no desire to push the issue.

"Thank you...thanks.." He was about to fumble for a lighter when Saitoh dipped his head, bringing the lit tip of his own to meet Aoshi's. He startled , eyes wide as Saitoh straightened. The yellow gaze lingered over him, leaving a peculiar burn in its wake, the two men standing in silence until the elevator chimed.

"Going to the gym, Shinomori?" Saitoh drawled as they stepped into the elevator together. Aoshi glanced down at the bag. "Oh. Yes.. I'm.. on my way to the gym..." his stomach dropped to the bottom of his feet. Lying to his sister was one thing. At least she couldn't fire him.

Saitoh smoked in silence for a while. "That's good. You've been looking tired when you come in in the morning.. I thought you might be involved in something that might be unsavory.. perhaps detrimental to the company."

Aoshi gave him a weak smile. "Just staying up late, helping my sister, sir." Which wasn't exactly a baldfaced lie. The elevator chimed again and the door slid open into the emptying lobby. "Just keep your nose clean, Shinomori. What you do reflects on the company."

Aoshi sketched a hasty bow. "Of course.. sir. Absolutely." He looked at his watch again and made a miserable little sound. NOW, he was late.

~~~~~~~~~~~~
The night ticked by with unerring predictability, Aoshi fought to stay awake as a Belgian businessman prattled on in some pidgin combination of French, English, and Japanese asking him about massage parlors.

It was almost midnight before the man finally staggered out, leaving a wad of cash on the table. Aoshi conscientiously figured out how much the drinks had been and pocketed the scant remains. He stretched then, listening to his back pop amid the dying murmur of conversation. He was exhausted. Another hour and he could go home and catch a few hours of sleep before getting up and doing the whole thing over again.

He was dragging himself up from the booth when he heard a chillingly familiar voice. "Yes, that's him, thank you.." Green eyes flicked up to meet yellow ones. "Not exactly the workout I'd imagined, Shinomori." The section chief offered dryly. Aoshi sat back down heavily. "Tai..cho. sir. Yes, well.."

Saitoh stood over him, some light in his glaring yellow eyes. "this doesn't look good for the company, Shinomori. Having our employees working in some seedy night trade.." Aoshi swallowed. To his own surprise he wasn't afraid of the man, just suddenly angry. He stood up, squaring his shoulders and met the glare with one of his own. "I didn't lie when I said I stayed up late to help my sister, sir. I need the extra money." He lifted his chin a little bit. "quite frankly, sir, I don't make very much at Miburo.. It costs a lot to send my sister to school... and... " his voice trailed off, Saitoh's face seemingly unaffected by either his subordinate's tone, or his story.

"So." Saitoh took Aoshi's chin in his hand suddenly. There was a roughness to the long fingers that he didn't expect, calluses of a harder life. He lifted Aoshi's chin slowly, examining him. "Sir.. Taicho...." Aoshi's initial irritation was replaced by something darker. He was aware, peripherally, of the eyes watching them, and a faint blush started to burn on his face. "....I can't lose my job." These last words came out as a whisper.

"You're trembling, Shinomori..." the section chief growled quietly. "I can't have employees who don't dedicate their all to the company. Do you understand that?" He drew Aoshi closer by his chin, until they were almost close enough to kiss. Aoshi could smell the sweet scent of fine tobacco on the man's breath, and his lips parted slightly, unconsciously, like a small animal tasting the scent of a predator on the wind.

"If you're willing to commit... everything to working for me, Shinomori... perhaps a promotion would be in order..." Saitoh's low voice rumbled in his chest, the vibration thrilling against Aoshi's skin. His flush burned hotter across pale cheeks. "S..sir.. I......." One hand came up to push Saitoh back, their closeness now intimately uncomfortable, but only rested on his overcoat. He swallowed, mouth suddenly dry with some primitive reaction. "Sir. Yes. Whatever it takes..."

Saitoh released him then, with a little nod. "That's good to hear, Shinomori. Get your coat. You're done here." Aoshi looked back at Takiko-san behind the counter. "But, sir.. I..." The baleful yellow gaze turned on him again and the words keeled over and died in his throat. He nodded dumbly and went to get his coat and duffel, stammering an apology to the little woman.

The night air outside was a chill shock to his overheated body as Aoshi followed Saitoh out into the neon-lit dark. "Where are we going?" he asked after several moments.

Saitoh paused, regarding him. "someplace more appropriate to discuss your new duties within the corporation, Shinomori..." His hand closed over Aoshi's wrist, seemingly ridiculously frail in the bigger hand. "you're not opposed to a full commitment to the department, are you?"

Saitoh's choice of words left Aoshi with a niggling concern at the back of his skull and he frowned. "Sir.. no.." He tried to pull his hand back, but Saitoh's grip was unyielding. "I want to do my best."

This seemed to please the older man, and he released Aoshi's wrist. "I thought you might." His tone was as nonchalant as if they discussed baseball or the weather. "I hear rumours that you're.. unsociable.. but yet I find you letting men pay you to drink with you.. to paw at you like dirty animals.."

If Saitoh noticed the humiliated look on Aoshi's face, he didn't seem to care. "...do you enjoy that sort of thing, Shinomori? Be honest, now..." Aoshi looked down at the sidewalk as they continued their progress, quiet. This was far beyond anything he could try and talk his way out of now.

"...yes. " he finally answered, unable to meet his employer's eyes. "I ...do..." They had paused in front of a storefront with dark dirty windows and a sputtering sign above the door. Saitoh lifted his chin again, forcing him to look into the assessing amber gaze. "Did you rebuff Takahashi because he didn't offer you any recompense?" Again, the older man's voice was unconcerned, but the glint in his eye gave Aoshi a distinctly different impression.

"Tai..taicho!" The younger man stammered, backing up a step, but Saitoh's hand on his chin seemed to hold him fast. He didn't even want to begin to consider that the Section Chief was close to home with that remark, but he couldn't make his throat produce a rebuttal.

Saitoh smirked. "It doesn't matter, we're here.." Aoshi followed his gaze up to the flickering sign over the seemingly empty shop. ".....tattoo, sir?" He felt suddenly colder than the air would've imagined.

Without another word, Saitoh turned him and pushed him through the door with a gentle firmness. "I've been watching you for some time Shinomori.. " he started conversationally as the door chimed. "So have the higher ups... consider this a test of your qualifications for the positions you're being considered for."

Aoshi's mouth dropped open for a puzzled response, when an elderly woman appeared from the back. "Ah, Saitoh-sama.. this is the young man?" Her voice was brittle, but the eyes in the wizened face were unnervingly bright. Aoshi took an unconscious step back from her, only to back into the solid warmth of Saitoh's chest.

"A test of your.. fortitude, boy." Saitoh's voice rumbled close to his ear, even as his employer's hands slid down Aoshi's arms. "Take off your clothes." It wasn't a request, it was a command, and Aoshi was out of his coat before he knew what he was doing. He paused, cheeks starting to burn again. "Sir...?"

"There's no place for shame if you want to give your all to the company, Shinomori.." Saitoh drawled. "continue." He undressed slowly, afraid to meet the Section Chief's yellow gaze, afraid that he'd see something hungry there... or worse.. not see it. The old woman's eyes were fixed on him too. "A lot of scars on his chest.. no good for working there.. let's see your back, boy."

He turned automatically, feeling the old woman's gaze burn across his back, even as Saitoh began to idly trace one of the scars on his chest. "These aren't the marks of an easy youth, Shinomori." He growled, and Aoshi found the courage to meet his gaze. "It wasn't, sir."

"Good." Saitoh's hand trailed down Aoshi's side and he shivered. They were close enough for Saitoh's woolen coat to tease against Aoshi's skin, his body's warmth noticeable in the shabby store's cool air. An irrational urge to beg the older man to kiss him surfaced in the back of Aoshi's brain, and he was tipping his head up to invite it when the old woman's papery voice rasped in the silence.

"His back's a beautiful canvas, Saitoh-sama.... Bring him here..." Her voice filled him with a sudden chill, and he came back to himself. "Sir.. I don't..."

"You promised your all, Shinomori.. are you backing out on that?" The Section Chief's tone was cooler than the chill air was, and his expression held a faint disdain. "No...." Aoshi's reply was soft, but before he could finish, the older man wrenched him around, pushing him down against a nearby table with a sudden stunning, ferocity.

The chipped, imitation wood surface was cold against his skin, and cheek pressed painfully against the hardness of it. Aoshi's slender hands scrabbled against the table for a moment, trying to find some purchase to free himself, before hands as rough and bony as a bird's feet grabbed his wrists and yanked his arms forward, something closing around them, anchoring them, with a metallic click.

"Now don't move, boy..." Saitoh almost purred in Aoshi's ear as his free hand slid down the shivering length of the younger man's back. "you move around, you'll ruin it... and you'll wear the mark of your failure... understand?"

As Aoshi nodded against the pressure of Saitoh's hand grinding his head into the table, the section chief's travelling hand came to rest along the taut curve of his bottom. The old woman started to speak again, somewhere out of his view. "..an excellent selection, Saitoh-sama... very complementary...." Followed by the rattle and clink of unseen objects.

Something cold and wet, smelling of antiseptic swept over his back, and the hum of her tattoo needle filled his ears, replacing the cold on his back almost immediately with prickling pain.

Saitoh's hands left him a moment, but Aoshi kept his face pressed against the desk, teeth biting into his lip from the strain of holding still against the pain needling into his back. "struggling already, Shinomori? That doesn't speak well of your fortitude..." Saitoh sounded amused, and his hand returned to Aoshi's buttocks, fingers damp and sliding between them.

"Tai...cho...." Aoshi rasped out, the old woman's needle tracing white lines of pain behind his eyes as one of the older man's long, callused fingers invaded him, probing in slow, hard thrusts. A second finger joined the first, brushing against just the right spot to send a queasy roll of pleasure through the pit of Aoshi's stomach, prickled unpleasantly with the graceful sweeps of growing agony dancing across his back.

His vision was starting to haze over, and he bit down on his lip harder, tasting faint copper. Just at the edges of his vision he could see his clothes, and the worn blue duffel bag. The white logo on it was only a smear now, as he struggled to focus on it.

He lost track of time after Saitoh's third finger plunged into him, tearing a hoarse little cry from Aoshi's throat, the duffel bag evaporating into the white glare blossoming in his skull. The unyielding edge of the desk pressed into sensitive, hardening flesh between his legs, a duller, throbbing echo of the other sensations, now blurring together, Saitoh's fingers wrenching mindless surging pleasure from him, sparkled with shards of broken-glass pain.

Aoshi heard something strange and high, and he realized he was screaming, coming against the uncaring Formica of the table, his release sucking away his consciousness with the sticky wetness flooding against his stomach.

The old woman spoke just before the darkness claimed him. "He's all yours, Saitoh-sama....."

~~~~~~~~~
Aoshi awoke with a groggy start, something soft and pliant beneath him. A bed. Sheets silken-smooth and cool. A low thrumming pain collected at the base of his brain and spread down his spine, becoming a delicious ache at the base.

He lifted his head slowly, yellow eyes meeting his in the darkness of the room. Saitoh sat opposite him, a glowing cigarette between his lips, rangy body bare except for the few shadows clothing him. Aoshi had a vague memory, the older man filling him with the solid warmth of his body, taking him with almost surprising gentleness after everything else.

"You're awake finally." Saitoh drawled, offering Aoshi a glass of wine from the table next to the bed. "You did very well, Shinomori..." Aoshi took the glass with a shaky hand, the liquid burning dark fire down the length of his throat as he downed it.

"....Saitoh..." his voice was hoarse, respectfulness forgotten for the moment. "..what...?" The older man stood, gesturing to the full length mirror across the sparsely elegant room. Aoshi groggily wondered if it were the section chief's home as he looked over his shoulder as he slowly rose.

The scrolling crimson, greens and gold of the flowers that marked the white skin of his back were brilliant even in the gloom. "You passed, Aoshi..." Saitoh said quietly, closing the space between them as he spoke. "You'll go far. "

"But.. Taicho...." Aoshi stared at tattoo in a combination of horror and shivered delight, the glass slipping from his trembling hand as Saitoh stepped in front of the mirror. Aoshi sank back down to the coolness of the sheets, waiting, now....

As the shadowy reflection of a finely drawn wolf in a dark forest looked back at him from the glass.