DIRL

 

Dirl

by sherlocks.

dirl—(v.) to thrill, to vibrate, to penetrate; to tremble or quiver

Of all things—

He never thought he would say this ever again but—he had lost. There was no room for dispute. Inuyasha had lost to a motherfucking inanimate object with no ounce of intelligence whatsoever. God.

How embarrassing.

It was just all so ridiculous; Kagome's insistence, her boy toy's nonexistence, his own lack of resistance, all of it! Never (since leaving his college days behind) had he felt so much irritation towards a single object. Not only that, but the irritation would come in chronic waves, threatening to disturb the mantra of his daily routines, and oh, he so disliked unruly interruptions.

…Alright, fine.

Deep down, he knew this wasn't really a strange case of resistentialism, that it was really Mr. Casanova's fault that he'd been face palming himself enough times to cause a blistering temple as of late. But as he currently had no live person to which he could conveniently dump his disapproval on, he'd no choice but to displace any internal grudges onto the next best thing he still understood to be real: Kagome's stupid, goddamn phone.

A week and a half in and still there had been no news from Hotshot. Inuyasha had refused to believe it at first but yesterday's lunch date with Kagome had given him the definite proof for his failure. Inbox (0), the phone's screen mocked him. He practically scoffed right then and there. Man, he really didn't like this guy. That is, if there even was a real live person on the other end of the line.

It wasn't that big of a deal, he had realized after re-examining the entire situation with a level head. This all just proved that the man of interest wasn't worth Kagome's (or his, for that matter) while. But then Kagome's awfully squeaky voice had somehow managed to convince him otherwise by the end of lunch. Kagome had a talent for that it seemed.

And if anything, Inuyasha was a man—he never went back on his words. He was handsome, confident, and totally macho, and that was exactly how he portrayed himself last evening, as he strutted into the nearest high-end designer shop, asked for the suicidal heels Kagome could never afford, and then proceeded to swagger out the shop with chins up and a distasteful hot pink bag on hand.

Yup, very manly. Keep your pants on.

To be honest, at the time, he hadn't been all that upset about butchering his wallet into kingdom come. He had assumed this would mean the end of the text messages and the reappearance of a slightly less insane Kagome. A fair price to pay, he had reasoned with himself.

But nooo, because then he learned he was mistaken. Oh yeah, did he mention how much he hated being wrong?

When he drove over to Kagome's place to give her the shoes that night (because there was no way he would allow himself to be seen in public with that ugly bag a second time), Kagome had demanded he send another text. Of course, he had declined profusely (because he wasn't insane nor drunk) and was even proud to not have fallen for the chocolate croissants bait.

Except, one does not simply underestimate a single, boyfriendless-for-nearly-four-months Kagome.

He couldn't believe she had set it all up; to 'accidentally' pour her drink on him, have him take a shower at her place, and then cunningly take his very expensive suit as hostage. It was true what they say; your friends really are your worst enemies. Damn Kagome for knowing how much he valued his professional wear. His suit fetish was a kept secret of his, but it certainly didn't make the situation any better.

…He should have taken the fucking croissants.

To be fair though, the text he had sent in his baffled state had not been a pretty one… not that Kagome would ever find out.

If you have balls, you'll answer this fucking text!

He snorted as he thought back to yesterday's chain of events. Let's see him get out of that one. Whatever.

Only real losers would dwell on their failures and Inuyasha was not the type to stay down. Whatever happens will happen, sure, but before long, he'd have conjured up multiple solutions for any problem that would come his way. This was, after all, one of his biggest assets as an elite secretary.

Thus, he was able to go through the president's correspondences this morning without many distractions, having already decided on his courses of action should the guy not text back within the next 2 weeks or before Kagome's ovaries fucking implode.

Depending on his mood, he would either temporarily refuse all contact with Kagome (like a boss, because he wasn't running away, clearly), or elegantly coax her into thinking that the guy had given her the wrong number while under a drunken state. And well, if he hadn't been all that plastered, then Inuyasha will just have to make him sound like an utter douchebag so that Kagome can hate on the guy for a few days, move on, find another guy to cling onto for all her costly cravings, and leave him in peace.

Inuyasha's first real distraction of the day came in the form of a phone call from a certain S Corporate. Druxy's rapid growth in the last few months had shaken Japan's entire business circle, which subsequently led to a spike in the level of public interest. Inuyasha had predicted and effectively dealt with every new prospect that came their way thus far, but in no way was he prepared for a call from the leading Construction Company of all of Asia.

Well, fuck.

Only after his brief conversation with their secretary did he allow his lips to form the curvature of an impish smirk. It would seem that Druxy Industries now stood dangerously at the intersection of two doors. Behind one was kept a winning lottery ticket, while the other led straight to the edge of a steep cliff.

Ah, he really couldn't have asked for a more thrilling concluding assignment, he hummed.

Glancing sideways at the office clock, he picked up the stack of materials at the end of the desk with one arm, grabbed for a coat with the other, and made his way towards the president's office. Upon reaching the door, a knock was made and a quick text, sent.

"Pardon the intrusion, sir," he bowed in respect, "but you've an appointment in an hour with Mr. Kobayashi at Della Hotel to discuss the conditions of renewing their current contract with us."

"Ah, yes. That was today, wasn't it?" Try as Inuyasha might, his boss simply could not surrender his reoccurring sheepish smile. It really was a bad habit, possibly even detrimental to the company, but given his remaining time at Druxy's, he will just have to leave the task to his successor. He gave a small smile nonetheless.

"Yes, it is. I have readied the materials you'll need, may I suggest going over them in the car?" He offered the president his coat, which he hurriedly placed on—a sign Inuyasha knew meant nervousness. Maneuvering to flick off a piece of fluff off his shoulder, he casually aimed for an acupressure point along the man's trapezius and felt the president relax under his palm. As they made their way out the door, Inuyasha initiated the usual routine.

"I suspect the meeting will be short?"

"Yes, no longer than an hour. I'd like to stop for coffee on the way." Too bad Inuyasha had expected this escape route.

"I've asked the driver to bring your favourite blend, if that is adequate."

"Ah, I see…" Very bad habit indeed.

Given no other verbal response, Inuyasha continued. "I'd like you to have a proper lunch after this meeting. Then, at 3pm, you'll be required to attend the opening ceremony for the new Uvex Department Store in downtown Tokyo. A lovely dinner date with your wife at Bridges Italian Restaurant will follow at 6pm, thus concluding your day."

He'll have to talk about S Corp.'s proposition at a later time, no need to give the poor guy more pressure now. It was one of those rare instances where he could not be by the president's side during a business confrontation, but in Inuyasha's honest opinion, he did not believe his help in that particular area was needed any longer.

Besides, he was missing his own lunch today already as is, aside from having other affairs to address, so the president will just have to do without him.

Upon reaching the car, he proceeded to discuss the important points listed in the materials as they made their way to the hotel. He encouraged the president not to give in to the other party's ultimatums too quickly, reminded him again that it was them that had the upper hand and that their recent rise in reputation necessitated proper conditions. Seeing the president's confidence and greatest weapon revive in his eyes was great and all, but as Inuyasha had learned in the earlier years of his life, everything came with a risk.

"Well done, Inuyasha. With this, the contract is ours." Inuyasha read hesitation in the fine wrinkles underneath the man's eyes, but he was fairly sure it had nothing to do with the upcoming meeting. "It will be difficult without you here. Are you positive there's nothing I can do to extend your stay at Druxy's? Perhaps you'd like an increase in—"

Inuyasha grimaced internally. I'm afraid not, Mr. President, although I appreciate the effort. "Not at all, sir," he politely interjected. "The Company will do fantastically, as long as you remain. My successor will no doubt be of great assistance to you in all your future endeavours."

"You approve of him?"

"Yes, of course." And he wasn't lying. "I can voucher for him as a friend and colleague. After all, Miroku and I did attend the same renowned college you hold in such high regard. You will not be disappointed." He offered a smile as closure, the one that was capable of dispelling all qualms. He owed Miroku big time now—for playing such a darling scapegoat—but as this seemed to be the only way to shut his boss up about the matter, so be it.

Arriving at Della Hotel with impeccable timing as always, Inuyasha quickly informed the driver to be back within the hour. It had been a while since the president visited his favourite restaurant for lunch. After wishing his boss the best of luck and instructing him to return to the company before his next appointment, he strolled passed a park to the Tiffany & Co.'s he remembered was nearby. It wouldn't do to give the wife any incentives to believe her husband had forgotten their wedding anniversary.

Two hours, two sore legs, and a shitpile of organized papers later, Inuyasha found himself face to face with his boss again, who happened to be sporting quite the dazzling grin. Going by his mood and the stellar-sized folders of fine texts and signatures, he'd say things went pre-tty well at the meeting. Within the hype and reinforced levels of endorphins, he found an opportune moment to remark on the contents of S Corp's earlier call. With his reassurance, the president approved the meeting with the latter's CEO to review their proposal.

Mission accomplished, Inuyasha grinned.

The president then went about finishing the rest of the day's work. Meanwhile, Inuyasha went to inspect the statuses of the junior secretaries—nothing else better to do now that he was finished with all the preparations for the remainder of the week. He had even gone beyond that to comprise all the relevant files for the upcoming meeting with S Corp next week.

Not that he was gloating, but his predictions, led on by his instincts, rarely (if ever) failed to deliver. He'd no doubt the president would agree to the conference.

When it came time for dinner, Inuyasha presented the president with the 18-karat rose diamond pendant—ah, there was that bad habit popping up again—that evoked the splendid beauty of a blossoming flower. Sappy, yes, but hopefully his elaborate explanation would give his boss some ideas on what to shower his wife later. He had psychologically prepped the president throughout the day by keeping his spirits high, there was no way he was going to let all that go to waste over something as stupid as lack of flattery, especially when it was clearly anticipated.

After dropping the president off at Bridge's, he informed him that the entire roof of the restaurant had been booked for the night so that the couple could leisurely relish their time. He suggested speaking with the manager first, as a rich bouquet of roses for the wife had already been picked out earlier that afternoon. A brief goodnight and thank you and Inuyasha was finally on his way back home.

As he played the president's prior words in his head, he found it quite amusing how far it was from the truth. He really wasn't as 'godlike' as he was often labelled. He'd never admit it, but there was one—only one—thing he strongly envied about the president, and that was the fact that he had found the life partner meant only for him. Meanwhile…

Inuyasha took a glance at himself and sighed.

Time to watch some incredible gay porn, jack off, and call it a fucking night! Determined (and pouting), he reached for the laptop nearest to his bed, tuned into his favourite gay porn site, pulled up some of the sexiest men alive, and did what every man on this earth was born to do.

When his briefs became far too tight, he stripped off halfway and shivered when the delightful cool air abused the burning skin of his hard-on. His face flushed in embarrassment as he realized how long he had gone without masturbating, but god, the thought of how thick the load he was now expecting would be only turned him on even more.

Shakily, he cupped his balls and began with a slow massage, groaning as his penis grew firmer than before. He gave himself a few swift fondles with his free hand and rubbed the area surrounding his member—anywhere but there. Not yet, he cried mentally, shutting his eyes closed. Stronger strokes this time. Oh, it was so addicting, that torturous yet enticing friction between his legs. Faster. He continued his slutty ministrations, with periods of abuse and pamper, over and over in a beautifully achieved rhythm. No longer under his control, his thighs shifted farther, and farther, and farther apart, until his hips reached bittersweet pain and fuck, he couldn't. Inuyasha hurled his head back and—

Ring, ring, ring!

—visibly jumped a few inches above the bed.

Ring, ring, ring!

…Holy fucking Jesus.

This had betterbe an emergency, or someone was going to fucking die tonight! He growled in (both mental and sexual) frustration as he reached for his Blackberry. He took a moment to bring his heartbeat back to normal then took a gander at the dead man walking.

Dead woman walking, he corrected.

"What do you want, Kagome?!" He screamed into the receiver.

"Oh my god, oh my god, Inuyasha! You won't believe this!"

"What!" OUT WITH IT WOMAN, I'VE GOT AN UNIMPRESSED COCK IN MY HAND.

"He texted back! The guy at the club, he texted back, just now!"

…

Inuyasha brought his phone down and gawked at it, incredulous. Was this seriously happening? Did he actually just get cockblocked by some shitty poorly-timed brat with no manners whose name and face he had yet to learn? Wow, just wow. Things could not get any worse.

Wait.

Wait, wait, hold on. What does she mean, he texted back? He wasn't supposed to text back, he wasn't even supposed to be real! What of his brilliantly thought out plans then? Of the peace of mind he was looking forward to? He thought he had finally reached the point of conclusion for this stupid game, but what? Proven completely wrong, yet again, by some absurd impalpable phantom? Why was it that every time he thought he'd achieved checkmate, he gets thoroughly bitchslapped instead? Who the fuck does this guy think he is?! …Shit.

"What a fucking tease."