Cross My Borders

Title : Cross My Borders (2/2)
Author : Arlyn Jayde
E-mail : atomichatred82@lycos.com
Rating : NC-17 (this is it)
Pairing : Naoki Jo/Shugo Urabe, implied Masami Shibaki/Haruya Sakurai
Archive : Battle School, anyone else ask first
Spoilers : Not really. Takes place before the events in Battle Royale 2
Disclaimer : Don’t know them, don’t own them, don’t sue me.
Summary : Sometimes you find friends in the unlikeliest places.
Author’s Note : Shugo Urabe. Jock, slut, or both? Take your pick. I’m sorry, but my Drunk!Shugo muse is hell-bent on being an exhibitionist whore. So here it is.
Warning : Graphic depictions of m/m sex between underage characters, substance abuse, massive amounts of cursing, and other things that might squick you. Proceed at your own risk. x-posted on

Something tells me I can trust in you
There’s no pretense in the things you do
So much water under this bridge
And I’m standing here at the water’s edge

You have the longing of a broken heart
Shine your light in a room that was fn dan dark
Looking into your eyes, I’m looking into your eyes

There’s no turning back I know
I’ve come so far and I’ve got so far to go

I’m crossing the river to get to you
I’m crossing the river and this time I’ll make it through
With your faith and your arms open wide
I see you there on the other side
I’m crossing the river of fear and pride

“Crossing the River” – the Devlins

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For all the crazy things in life, some of which he’d already seen and done, Shugo Urabe never thought that one night he’d end up dead-stoned on his own living room couch, getting high with a member of the Shubultz Cuts. This was beyond crazy. This was beyond weird. It defied all logic and explanation, almost as much as what he was about to do next.

“Sit down, Jo. And I’ll tell you all about it.”

He’d been hoping for the ‘just kidding’ word balloon to pop out at any moment, but it didn’t come. And the look on Naoki Jo’s face, if Shugo’s dazed senses were not failing him, was anything but kidding. Realizing that he was but a few words away from revealing the salacious details of two of his best friends’ very private moments had him on the edge of guilt, but not quite there. He was a little too drunk and high for that. Heck, Jo probably wouldn’t remember half the tale in the morning, and even if he did, Shugo knew he wasn’t about to mouth off to the other Cuts. Doing that would mean admitting that he’d actually spent a night at Shugo’s, and he knew Kurosawa would have a real mean hissy fit if he found out.

Jo did as he was told, sitting down next to where Shugo’s legs dangled over the edge of the couch. Stripped of all that leather and metal he seemed less like one of the feared Shubultz Cuts and more like just another regular guy—well, a regular guy with an earring and a really nice dye job. Shugo had to admit it, it was nice. Much nicer than his own do-at-home coloring. Jo was looking at him expectantly, his face somewhere between unsure if he really wanted to hear this and curious beyond all reason. Even bruised and battered as he was, Shugo could still easily pick him out as the best-looking of the Shubultz Cuts, hands down. He didn’t know why he was thinking of Jo that way, but it was true. Yuka Mifune should consider herself one lucky bitch for being able to add Naoki Jo’s name to her undoubtedly long list of ‘conquests’.

“You’re not gonna wait until the shit wears off, are you?” Jo asked, a little impatiently.

Shugo smiled, intentionally leaving his unlikely companion hanging. He liked this a lot. He liked having Jo all flustered like this, one one hand not wanting to admit his interest in the matter, on the other hand dying to know the details.

A sudden thought entered Shugo’s head—a thought he never would’ve come up with in a sober state.

Could he unravel this guy, who prided himself so much in being cool and collective? Could he get Jo to give up on all pretense of subtlety? Could he be another lucky bitch who gets to add Naoki Jo’s name on his not-so-long list of ‘conquests’? Shugo was sure this was the weed in his system talking, but what the fuck. It was Jo’s fault he offered the joint to him, now let’s see if he can weather the consequences.

And thus begins my quest to melt an iceman.

“Hold on…let me get comfortable.”

What he actually meant was, let’s get you a lot less comfortable, Jo. Shugo swung his right leg over, nearly kicking Jo in the face, and let it dangle over the back of the couch while his other foot was planted on the floor beside him. So there he was, legs pretty much spread wide open with Jo sitting just inches away from his groin, but Shugo didn’t stop there. The rain outside was making the air inside close and humid, and he was starting to get a little hot. Shugo reached for the buttof hif his shirt and began undoing them, one by one, his fingers slipping every now and then, mostly because his coordination was thrown out of whack by all the intoxication, but partly out of show. And Jo was being sucked right in. He sat there staring, and Shugo deliberately avoided eye contact with him, working his buttons loose and then pushing the fabric aside.

If Jo was as ‘normal’ as those magazines Takeuchi had caught him carrying today seemed to signify, then he should have nothing to worry about. This would all have no effect on him.

But it did.

Even as Shugo squirmed a little to fix the position of his head over the armrest, he could see Jo swallowing nervously, unable to hide the lump in his throat behind that chain he still wore around his neck, his favourite accessory see seemed. Shugo fought to keep a smile from breaking out across his face. It was too early to tell how far he could take this.

“Where was I? Oh, yeah…Haruya and Shibaki.”

Jo looked like he’d been snapped out of a daydream, and quickly tried to regain his composure.

Too late, shithead.

“Well, as you know Shibaki transferred in not long after Taku—tough little guy with an attitude, wouldn’t you say?”

Jo snorted.

“My thoughts exactly. Shintaro and I were against having him in the team, at first, but Haruya really vouched for him…strangely enough, so did Taku. So in he came, and whaddya know? He turned out to be quite good.” Shugo said. “Then he and Haruya got closer and closer until they became…how do I say it? Well, they became inseparable.”

“Tell me something I don’t know.” Jo muttered, his voice low but evidently trying to mask impatience.

“Well, one night we were staying over at Haruya’s—Shibaki and I, I mean. Just the three of us in the house, his parents were gone…off to Tokyo, looking for information and hiring people, on another attempt to try and find their missing daughter.”

“His sister ran away?”

“Yeah, but that’s not the story you want to hear…” Shugo said, and he looked at Jo from under his bushy brown hair and smiled. “…is it, Jo?”

He heard a faint growl somewhere in the back of Jo’s throat. “Go on.”

“Okay…” Shugo nodded lazily. “By this time you and your little group have already started spreading the word about them being a ‘couple’ and all that shit, but I didn’t really care because I was sure it wasn’t true. But that night we were in Haruya’s bedroom, and I was sitting at this computer browsing the internet for—”

“Porn?” Jo guessed.

“Ha. Very funny.” Shugo said. “Scholarships.”

“Oh…”

“Well, they were talking while I was doing it, but suddenly they stopped talking, and I wondered what was going on, then I turned around, and…” Shugo stopped deliberately for effect. Jo was practically on the edge of his seat. “…you really wanna hear this?”

“Fuck you, Urabe.”

Really?

“Fine, then. I turned around…and there they were, on Haruya’s bed, making out like two animals in heat, not even caring that I was there.”

This was all true, of course, Shugo was too stoned to make up stories, but he drew pleasure from seeing Jo’s mouth hang open, his partially-bruised face not masking his shock. Even if he’d been expecting it, Shugo was sure he wasn’t expecting something quite that blatant.

“Ma..making out, you said?” Jo stuttered. “As in…”

“Lips, tongues, hands all over the place.” Shugo explained, his arms flailing to make drunken gestures in the air that didn’t really symbolize anything. “Guess who was calling all the shots?”

“Shibaki…” Jo said, almost without thinking it seemed.

Shugo laughed. “Very good, Jo. Maybe you’ve been paying them a lot more attention than I first thought, eh?”

Jo flushed red—imagine that, a Shubultz Cuts member actually getting embarrassed. This was priceless. “Asshole.”

Is that what you want?

Shugo placed one hand on his chest and began rubbing up and down his stomach as he continued his story. “I sat there with my jaw on the floor, but they just kept going at it…I was yelling at them to stop, but they didn’t stop.” Jo’s eyes were following the movement of his hand inch by inch. “They…didn’t…stop.”

Another heavy gulp by the Shubultz Cuts member, and Shugo was just about ready to break out in a victorious song and dance number. But not yet.

“I was ready to jump on that bed and tear them off each other, but then…clothes started flying towards me.” Shugo continued. “Everything. I yelled at them to stop again and this time Shibaki gave me the finger…”

Jo snorted.

“…from under Haruya’s ass.”

The handsome gangmember’s snort turned into a full-blown choke, and he stared down at Shugo disbelievingly. “Fuck.”

“Yeah, that’s what they did next.” Shugo nodded matter-of-factly. “They fucked.”

“No.”

“Yeah.”

“No.”

“Hey, you’re the one who’s so convinced they’re doing it, aren’t you?” Shugo asked, smirking deviously. “They fucked.”

“Uhhh…”

“Details? Okay. Here goes…” Shugo said, without bothering to wait for Jo to reply. “They were naked, see, and Shibaki just started groping all over Haruya…” Shugo’s hand was moving again, spreading his fingers out across his stomach while the other hand went behind his back, cushioning it. “He was touching Haruya everywhere…like this…” throwing caution into the wind, Shugo placed his hand over the front of his boxers and began massaging himself, slowly. “…and Haruya was moaning and groaning like he was crazy or something.”

The image played back like a recording in his mind, so vivid a picture as if it had happened only yesterday, Shibaki’s hand on Haruya’s crotch, stroking his naked cock, Haruya throwing his red-bronze head back against the pillows, and Shugo mimicked that move against the armrest his head was sitting on. “Shi..Shibaki was stroking him, so slowly Haruya almost cried, and he was all wet and dripping…” Shugo closed his eyes and began stroking himself, feeling his own body starting to respond to the stimulus. Maybe Jo was wrong. Maybe the weed did help turn people on. “And I stood there and I watched…I watched and I stared but they…just kept going…”

“Urabe…” Jo’s voice was beginning to show the first signs of his unraveling. Even the way he said Shugo’s name had taken on an entirely new meaning.

“And then…and then he got on top of Haruya, and his other hand…” Shugo pulled his other hand from behind his head and placed it on his chest, where two fingers began to toy lazily with his left nipple. Fuck, he was really stoned or else he wouldn’t even dream of doing this. “…started doing this.”

“Urabe…” that voice was caught in his throat now. Good. Shugo was starting to get excited himself.

Somewhere, the part of his brain that hadn’t been affected by the weed was screaming for his attention. For fuck’s sake you’re touching yourself in front of a goddamn Shubultz Cuts member, you stupid! What the fuck are you thinking? Shugo knew exactly what he was thinking. He was thinking about Shibaki and Haruya. Thinking about how much they’d seemed to be enjoying each other. Thinking about the way Haruya moaned under Shibaki’s body, thinking of the look on his face when Shibaki fucked him—pure, wanton, unbridled lust. Thinking of how he’d stood there watching his two friends fuck like animals on Haruya’s bed, thinking of how left-out he’d felt, how envious he’d been of their closeness, their heat, their desire. Envious.

“Shibaki…he wasted no time. He got Haruya’s ankles around his neck and pretty soon…” Shugo reached inside his boxers and found his hot, hardening member. “…he got his dick in Haruya’s ass.”

“U…Urabe…”

“Oh, they looked like they were having such a good time…” Shugo said as he pulled out his cock, which popped out of his boxers all too eagerly. His hand got a firm grip on it and he began stroking himself, his body squirming with every thrust he made into his own hand. “I watched them…I watched them going at it…in…out…in…out…” his other hand continued to tweak at his left nipple, nearly pinching himself now. “Shibaki was banging Haruya so hard the bed was bumping against the wall…in…out…in…out…”

“Urabe!” Jo’s voice was barely a hiss now, but Shugo almost didn’t care anymore.

“Fuck, they looked so good doing it. They were grinding, and moaning, and making all sorts of noises I’d never heard them make before…” Shugo shook his head, his eyes shut tight. “Haruya was whimpering like a baby at one point…damn, but Shibaki was an animal that night. He just wouldn’t let up…he kept going harder, and harder…” Shugo stroked himself harder and harder, his entire body humming with arousal, his hand now wet and slick with his own pre-cum, his sweaty chest heaving. Under his fingers his nipples had grown hard, standing erect, as if challenging their beholder.

He wiggled on the couch, intentionally letting his ass rub slightly against Jo’s left thigh. He felt the gangmember’s flesh tighten, but he didn’t flinch. Most importantly of all, Shugo could feel the heat in the other boy’s body, heat that he was sure wasn’t caused by the humidity, the injuries, the weed, or the beer. Determined to take the show to its climax, Shugo worked his own cock furiously, his head thrashing on the armrest, his chest heaving rapidly.

“Haruya…he came first…he came, spurting like mad and…” Shugo shut his eyes tight, his hand movements now frantic, his ears pounding with the bloodrush of his veins. “Oh, fuck!”

Shugo felt his own orgasm being wrenched from him by his own hand, the vit tht throbbing climbing to a fever pitch as he let out a strangled cry, his cock starting to spurt wildly. He shut his eyes as stars exploded behind his lids, feeling the warm splatter of his own release wetting his hand, his exposed stomach, and the fabric of his partially-off boxers. For a few seconds he couldn’t even sense or hear what Jo was doing—all there was for him was the overwhelming sensation of a powerful climax, way more powerful than any he’d ever managed to do for himself. Whether it was because of the image of Haruya and Shibaki was still dancing in his head, or the sheer perverse pleasure of knowing that Naoki Jo, of all people, was sitting there watching him, he didn’t know.

Frankly, he didn’t give a shit.

For the next few moments Shugo battled with his own body to find his breath, his slicked hand still stroking himself slowly, the other snaking its way down his torso to where his release formed tiny liquid pools on his stomach. He opened his eyes, as heavy as they were under the still-strong influence of weed, and the first thing he saw as his eyesight came into focus was Jo, his eyes staring wide under those honey-blonde bangs, throat convulsing furiously, the rapid movement of his chest mimicking Shugo’s own. Shugo swallowed into his dry, parched throat and tried to find his voice. The show wasn’t over yet.

“Shibaki must’ve come inside him…inside Haruya…” at these words Jo’s eyes fluttered, and Shugo continued to work his body with his hands, spreading the sticky fluid all over his torso. “…because the next thing he did…the next thing he did was to look at me, his face all flushed, he looked me and he smiled…” Shugo lifted one slick hand towards his face, inspecting the liquid smear of his cum on his fingers under the hazy neon glow. “…he smiled at me, Shibaki, and he said…” daring himself, Shugo placed his middle finger in his mouth, the familiar taste and scent of his own seed, and closed his lips over it, sucking his finger clean, slowly, deliberately. Jo made a noise somewhere between a gasp and rumble in his throat, and Shugo pushed his finger inside his mouth all the way before pulling it out, a slick pop coming from his moistened lips, his eyes studying the look on the handsome gangmember’s face.

“…he said, ‘You liked that, didn’t you, Urabe?’” It was his own name that his lips uttered, yet his eyes were firmly fixed on Jo, knowing that the other boy knew perfectly well that he was the intended target of the question.

Liked that, didn’t you, Jo?

Slowly, Shugo lifted his left leg off the floor and settled it down over Jo’s lap, and this time Jo reacted visibly, those eyes fluttering again, and Shugo himself trembled from the intense heat he felt from the other boy’s body. And when he turned his leg slightly inward, he could clearly feel the bulge at the front of Jo’s boxers, rubbing against his knee. The Shubultz Cuts member gasped, not even bothering to conceal his reactions, and his head turned towards Shugo to fix him with a glance that was a conflicted mix between confusion, anger, and oh, yes…barely-controlled lust.

“Was that…detailed enough for you, Jo?” Shugo asked huskily.

Hearing this was the last straw for Jo. He snapped, grabbing Shugo’s leg with his right hand as he lunged at him, seemingly forgetting the pain in his bruised stomach as he pounced on the rugby player, and Shugo made a strangled noise as all the weight of the other boy’s body came down upon him in one swift movement. Jo’s left hand grabbed a fistful of Shugo’s hair, forcing him to look up into his face, and Jo was breathing hard, his nostrils flaring as he looked down on Shugo, who stared up at him defiantly.

“You’re a fucking slut, Urabe…” the gangmember muttered, his voice harsh with lust.

Shugo looked up at him and smiled. “Bet you’ve had quite a few of those, haven’t you Jo?”

“Yeah, I have…” Jo snarled, his eyes becoming darker. “And I think I’ll have this one, too.”

With that he brought his face down onto Shugo’s and brutally mashed their lips together, the mingled taste of weed and alcohol on their tongues making Shugo dizzy, his consciousness faltering. And the last coherent thought that managed to form inside his head, before it all descended into madness, was the sweet satisfaction of success.

I win.

Home 1, Visitor 0.

-------------------

This was insanity. There was no other word for it. Naoki knew this as he ignored the pain in his left arm and forcefully snuck it under Urabe’s body, gripping him tight. His right hand was busy stroking up and down the rugby player’s thigh, muscular yet flawless in the smoothness of his flesh, and Urabe’s hands were grabbing at his t-shirt, as if encouraging him to take it off. Damn it, but this little bitch was just asking for it. Naoki’s mouth was still busy wrestling with the rugby player’s, tasting the wanton heat of Urabe’s tongue. There was no sweetness there, no pretense. So far removed from all the girls he’d ever been with, some with their silly dreams of everlasting love, of romantic lovemaking such as only existed in the stories meant to woo their hearts, some with thoughts only of their own pleasure, like Mifune, who’d seduced him with the sole purpose of winning bragging rights.

Urabe wasn’t like that. Hsn’tsn’t like that at all.

Naoki had never felt heat this intense before—Urabe’s entire body was burning, like flames underneath his very skin, and as Naoki forcefully yanked his right leg from the back of the couch so he could pull Urabe’s half-worn boxers completely off his body, the rugby player made a noise in his throat that was no longer taunting, no longer teasing. Naoki knew that kind of voice. He knew it all too well. It was the desperation of a body too long left untended, uncared for. Never alone, but lonely just the same. Just like him. Exactly like him.

He pulled Urabe’s unbuttoned shirt off his shoulders and threw it aside, leaving the rugby player lying fully naked underneath him, his sweaty chest heaving, his large, beautiful eyes looking up at Naoki with just a hint of fear in them, fear of the brutality Naoki had handled him with, yet anticipating what was coming even more. Naoki looked down at him, intensifying the glare he had in his eyes. He liked the fear he saw in Urabe’s eyes. He wanted it to stay here. He’d feed on it, he’d let it grow, he’d use it to get under Urabe’s skin, to strip him off his defenses. He’d magnify that fear…and then he’d take it all away.

“Fucking slut…” he said as he pulled his own t-shirt over his head, throwing it over the back of the couch. “You’ve been asking for this all night, haven’t you?”

Urabe didn’t answer. His eyes scanned up and down Naoki’s naked torso, hands lying limp at the sides of his head.

“Did they teach you how to do this? Did they teach you how to be a slut, those friends of yours?” Naoki taunted him as he pulled his own boxers down over his hips, working them loose before letting it fall to the floor. “Did they show you how to do it with a guy? Did they let you join in on their fun?”

Urabe shook his head weakly, his eyesight now fixed on the leaking member that jutted proudly from Naoki’s groin. He’d been hard from the instant Urabe began stroking himself a while ago, his mouth reciting the lewd tale of Masami Shibaki and Haruya Sakurai’s sordid adventure, and Naoki had sat there listening, listening and watching, this slut of a jock lying there with his legs spread so fucking wide Naoki almost wanted to fuck him then and there, stroking and touching himself, putting on a show, and Naoki had to admit that he’d been sucked right into Urabe’s little mind game, and he’d just admitted his defeat. He smiled darkly. He may be defeated, but he wasn’t going to come away empty-handed. He’d give this jock what he wanted, and perhaps take something from him, as well.

He lowered himself to Urabe again and the other boy welcomed him, opening his arms and legs to him, and the two mismatched lovers grappled with each other, hands clawing, the upholstery squeaking and groaning underneath them, and Naoki felt the raw, burning hunger in his own body, knowing that it would not let him be until it had been satisfied. There was hunger in Urabe, too, in the way his full, luscious lips welcomed Naoki’s brutal kisses, in the way his body undulated underneath Naoki’s to bring their naked arousals rubbing against each other, and Naoki responded by reaching under Urabe and squeezing his tight, round ass. Urabe squealed into his mouth, no longer putting on a show now but squealing in earnest, and Naoki pried his lips forcefully loose from Urabe’s and smiled down at him menacingly.

“They did this too, didn’t they?” he said as his hand squeezed the rugby player’s ass again. “They touched each other like this, didn’t they?”

Urabe nodded frantically, his eyes wide with Naoki’s reflection in his dark pupils.

“And poor Shugo Urabe could do nothing but watch, nobody was paying attention to him…” Naoki let his voice take on a mocking tone, but Urabe took no insult. He nodded even more furiously than before. The slut was getting desperate.

Naoki lifted himself off Urabe’s body, wincing slightly as the pain in his stomach returned, but he ignored it. Fuck the pain. He crawled up the couch until he was straddling Urabe’s face, one knee on either side fo the rugby player’s head, and with his good hand Naoki reached behind Urabe’s neck and pulled him up, aiming those swollen lips towards his dripping, wet erection.

“Do it, Urabe.” he commanded. “Let’s see if that mouth of yours is good for something other than telling dirty stories.”

If Urabe hesitated at all, he didn’t show it. He opened his mouth, and Naoki wasted no time pushing his eager cock inside, finding the velvety heat of the rugby player’s lips closing over his length, his hand guiding the back of Urabe’s neck. With that, Naoki began moving, thrusting in and out, and Urabe played the part of the obedient whore, letting the Shubultz Cuts member fuck his mouth with all considerations of gentleness thrown out of the window.

“Shit, you’re doing real good, Urabe…” Naoki whispered hoarsely. “They teach you how to do this? Did Shibaki and Sakurai show you how to do it?”

Urabe moaned, and his head moved weakly from side to side.

“But you saw them do it, didn’t you?” Naoki said, grabbing fistfuls of the rugby player’s brown hair. “You saw them do it.”

This time the other boy nodded, his eyes falling shut.

“Open your eyes. Look at me.” Naoki said, and Urabe did as he was told. The sight of those big, beautiful dark eyes looking up at him nearly proved to be Naoki’s undoing, but he gripped the back of the couch tightly to will his body back into his control, even as Urabe’s mouth continued to work him with a seemingly naïve magic, a sense of complete surrender on the rugby player’s part which fed Naoki’s lust even more than any girl’s pretentious faking, however expertly done, ever could. Urabe’s hands were moving now, moving up and down Naoki’s chest, feeling him out, mapping the contours of his flesh with those calloused fingers, his rough palms leaving Naoki no room for doubt that this was indeed a guy he was with, not some catastrophic weed-induced misinterpretation of his senses.

Not wanting to reach his climax prematurely Naoki pulled his cock out of Urabe’s mouth, and he could swear that he saw regret on the rugby player’s face, regret and longing, such that Naoki had never seen before—most girls who’d sucked him off just wanted to get it over and done with. Making up for the loss he gathered Urabe into his arms and kissed him again, as fiercely as he’d done before, and the hunger he’d first tasted in Urabe’s mouth seemed to have grown tenfold as his hand went around Naoki’s neck, fingers toying with the chain necklace he wore there. Naoki felt the raw, desperate heat between them, for once finding in a sexual partner something that mirrored his own soul, the pent-up frustration that was bubbling over both in his body and in Urabe’s, bringing their separate needs and longings into one, each other’s pain, each other’s sorrow, someone who’d experienced great loss and someone who’d never had much to begin with.

If you don’t know what you’ve got till it’s gone, then you certainly don’t know what you’ve been missing till you suddenly find yourself having it again, either.

Naoki pushed Urabe roughly down onto the couch, back to his original position, and found that the rugby player’s cock had grown to full hardness once again somewhere along their furious petting. With two hands on the other boy’s hips, Naoki maneuvered him onto his stomach, flipping him over. Urabe didn’t resist this, allowing himself to be manhandled in such a way that seemed to promise that it could only get better from there. Naoki reached behind his own neck and undid the clasp of the chain he wore around it—if the slut wanted this so bad, he could have it. Pressing his chest down onto Urabe’s back he quickly fastened the chain around the rugby player’s neck, leaving him just enough room to slip his fingers between the links and Urabe’s throat, pulling it just tight enough without strangling the other boy. Urabe gasped, not expecting this treatment, but he said nothing. Jo’s other hand was holding Urabe by his hip as he molded himself against the curve of the rugby player’s ass, finding that they were more or less a perfect fit.

Perfect.

“Jo…” Urabe moaned, the name on his lips sounding like a desperate plea.

Naoki bit down on the other boy’s right shoulder, harder than he’d actually planned to, the tender flesh breaking under his teeth and soon he tasted blood seeping into his mouth. Urabe made a strangled noise of pain, but not protest, and Naoki licked the tiny wound almost apologetically, feeling the violent shudder that coursed through the rugby player’s body.

“You really want this, don’t you?” he whispered against Urabe’s ear.

“Do you?” Urabe asked back.

Naoki’s reply was to reach under Urabe’s stomach and grab his dripping cock, causing the rugby player to moan aloud. His chin digging into Urabe’s wounded shoulder, Naoki gathered a copious amount of the thick, viscous liquid in his palm and quickly smeared it over Urabe’s ass, working a finger inside the tiny puckered hole of his entrance, and he felt the rugby player’s body shuddering underneath him.

“Did they do this, too? Did Shibaki do this to Sakurai…before he fucked him?”

“Uh-huh…” Urabe whimpered as he nodded.

Naoki slid his other hand under Urabe’s body, ignoring the sting of pain from his bandaged left arm, his fingers skimming Urabe’s chest before finding one hard, erect nipple and pinching it.

“Jo…” the other boy buried his head into the upholstery, his brown hair damp against his sweat-slicked neck.

“Did they touch like this? Did Shibaki’s hand do this, too?”

“Yeah…” Urabe gasped as Naoki moved on to his other nipple, giving it the same teratment. “Oh, Jo…”

Naoki pulled his finger out of Urabe’s ass and set his hand on the curve of one smooth hip, using it as leverage as he thrusard ard and deep, and the scream that accompanied the penetration was his as well as Urabe’s. Damn it but the bitch was tight, tight and hot, tighter and hotter than any girl he’d ever been with, and Naoki pushed against him, both of them squirming, bodies locked together, and he licked the blood off Urabe’s shoulder as he thrust back in, listening to the cries the rugby player made underneath him, feeding his desire. He used his teeth to pull at the chain around Urabe’s neck, tasting their mingled sweat, one hand reaching for Urabe’s neglected cock as the other pinned the brown-haired boy’s wrists over his head.

This is what you want, isn’t it? This closeness, this heat…

“Fuck…you’re a tight little bitch, aren’t you?” Naoki grunted against Urabe’s neck. “Wonder what your friends will say if they can see you now…”

He was expecting Urabe to retort with what the rest of the Shubultz Cuts would say, but the rugby player was incapable of such taunts, he could only moan and groan as Naoki thrust into him.

They’ll never forgive me if they ever find out. But even then, I probably won’t regret this. I won’t regret this at all.

“You can tell them the story of how you let me, of all people, someone you jocks don’t like…you can tell them how you let me in your house, first of all…then in your mouth…then in your ass…”

“Jo…”

You’re just like me, aren’t you Urabe? Just like me…lonely, friefriendless but lonely, somewhere deep inside you where nobody can reach…

“You’re really liking this, aren’t you?”

Have I reached you now? Have I touched you where nobody else has? Is this what you wanted?

“Jo...”

Because you sure as hell reached me.

“I don’t understand you jocks…” he grunted deeply as he thrust. “Acting all macho on the field when you’re playing, yet so willingly opening your legs like this…”

Maybe I don’t understand your kind. Maybe I don’t have to.

He closed his eyes as his movements became frantic, his hand furiously working Urabe’s cock until the rugby player let out a long, sustained wail and reached his second climax of the night, his rigid member throbbing and spurting into Naoki’s hand, staining the couch underneath them, and Naoki buried his nose in Urabe’s matted brown hair as he felt his own orgasm approaching, a violent humming from the base of his cock which culminated in a furious torrent of his release into the other boy’s ass, which contracted and convulsed around him, milking him dry.

“Fuck!” he hissed sharply. “Urabe…”

The orgasm seemed to wrench every last remaining strength out of his body, and Naoki slumped onto Urabe’s back, his limbs weak, and faintly he heard Urabe’s muffled voice calling out his name, their tangled fingers coming loose. Blood pounding in his ears, Naoki shut his eyes tight and felt the last remaining tremors coug thg through their still-joined bodies, slick with sweat and other bodily fluids, his mouth hanging open and sending hot billows of air against Urabe’s neck, their heartbeats racing with each other. Slowly, he pulled his spent cock out of Urabe, the other boy moaning at the loss, and Naoki quickly checked if he’d caused the rugby player some sort of injury or bleeding. Luckily he found no evidence of such, though Urabe’s asshole did seem rather bruised and swollen.

“Get up…get over here…” he said, pulling Urabe under his arms towards the other side of the couch. The two pillows Urabe had laid there for him were now on the floor, along with their accompanying blanket and Naoki’s leather jacket, evidently having been kicked off the couch by their furious coupling a while ago. Naoki rearranged the pillows and picked up the tussled blanket from the floor, while Urabe sat watching him, arms wrapped tightly around himself. Wordlessly, Naoki reached for him and gestured for him to lie down, and Urabe nodded his compliance weakly.

He laid his head down on the pillows and seemed to fall asleep almost instantly, not even bothering to put any of his clothes back on. Naoki watched him, contemplating whether to just sleep on the floor beside the couch, but then decided against it. Urabe had set out those pillows and blanket for him, anyway. Retrieving his boxers from the floor and slipping it back on, he slowly laid his body on top of Urabe’s back and spread the blanket over them, fatigue wearing him down quickly as he too fell asleep, echoes of Urabe’s wanton cries still ringing in his ears.

The rain had now stopped.

----------------------------

The first thing Naoki felt when he finally stirred awake, opening his eyes to the grey light of a cloudy morning, was the hangover threatening to rip open his head. Groaning, he shut his eyes again and waited a few seconds for the pain to subside before opening them again. As the hazy blur of his vision slowly came into focus, he saw the empty beer cans on the table, and the trail of ash leading to an extinguished joint, which were more than sufficient to explain his current state.

Where was he? Oh, right…Urabe’s house. He’d done detention, drank beer and smoked pot at Kurosawa’s, ran into trouble, got helped by this jock, and ended up sleeping at his house for the night.

Ended up fucking the jock, too.

Naoki’s brows knitted together. Half of him wished that it had all been a dream, and yet the other half of him was saying please let it be true. Slowly regaining his senses, he looked down and realized he’d been sleeping on top of someone else’s body, and right under his nose was the exposed flesh of a naked shoulder, which led into a slender, chain-wrapped neck and a head of bushy brown hair, and a still-sleeping face turned sideways on a pillow. So it wasn’t dream, after all. Naoki slowly lifted his body off Urabe’s back, finding just enough space on the couch to sit, looking around with his head feeling like it weighed twice as much as it should. The clock on the wall said six-thirty. Good. Enough time for them to get their bearings, clean up the mess, maybe take a shower before going to school.

Or maybe he should skip school today…but no, wouldn’t want his friends to get suspicious. They never skipped school unless they did it together, and nobody was going to believe him if he said he was sick, even thought that’s exactly what he was. Shaking his head, Naoki reached for the bottle of painkillers that Urabe had left on the table last night and stood up, nearly tripping over the messy heap of clothes on the floor. He made his way to the kitchen on wobbly legs and re-filled his water glass, taking another two of the painkillers, hoping it would help clear his head off this fucking hangover. It was coldwas was wearing nothing but his boxers and the kitchen was rather draughty, but he took time to wash in face in the sink and inspected his injuries once again.

The bandage Urabe had placed on his left arm was still there, tight as new—guess the jock really did know what he was doing. The small strips of band-aid on his face were also still firmly in place, thought they felt slightly damp. His neck didn’t ache anymore, and the pain in his stomach was also nearly gone. His jaw still felt rather stiff—though he couldn’t tell whether it was because of the punch or the fact that he’d been using his mouth a lot more than he planned to last night. Naoki had to smile at that, even if only to chide himself. It was all his fault, really. He was the one who offered a joint to Urabe, anyway, not knowing what effect the weed would have on the rugby player, how quickly he changed from the disillusioned, impassive boy from the poor family and became the wanton creature that he was last night.

And how quickly Naoki had succumbed to him.

Sighing, he filled up the glass again and brought it back to the living room—Urabe might need to take a few painkillers himself. It was light outside but the sunshine was dull and gray, they were probably in for more rain today. As he set the glass and bottle on the table Naoki glanced over Urabe’s sleeping body, feeling amazed ow dow different he seemed, here in the gray morning light, stripped off the influences that had so fueled his actions last night. He looked a lot less like the needy little slut Naoki had fucked last night and more like…well, more like Shugo Urabe. The Shugo Urabe that he knew, or thought he knew, the boy forever unhappy with himself and the people around him, burying his frustrations deep inside and letting it all out on the rugby field, the girl he could never attain, the friends who never seemed to care as much as they should.

Perhaps I am luckier than you, after all.

Naoki sat down on the couch and tentatively reached with his hand towards Urabe’s face, but stopped before he could make any contact. What should he do? What could he do? He was not known to gentleness, and gentleness wasn’t known to him. He didn’t know how to touch, how to caress—the girls he’d been with would testify to that. He never felt like he needed to know, never thought that he needed it, period. g a g a part of the Shubultz Cuts meant preparing for the battle with those who had taken the lives of their loved ones, and preparing for battle meant that they had no time to invest in other feelings.

You allow yourself to get sentimental, and your revenge will not be effective.

But this wasn’t about revenge. This wasn’t even about the Shubultz Cuts. This was about him, Naoki Jo, the person, if he was still there. If he hadn’t buried himself too deep in all the Cuts identity that he’d forgotten who he was before. Had he known how to touch, once? Had he known gentleness, back when his mothes als alive?

“Feeling sorry yet?”

The voice startled him, until he realized that it was Urabe who had spoken, his eyes still closed, the words muttered out of a barely-opened mouth.

“Why should I feel sorry?” Naoki said. “Because I offered you a joint and ended up fucking you?”

“Something like that, yes…” Urabe’s eyes fluttered slightly open, but then fell shut again.

The hand that he’d left hanging in the air now moved again, and Naoki’s fingers slowly brushed away several strands of damp brown hair away from Urabe’s face. Even this simplest of gestures seemed significant now, considering the way he’d treated Urabe last night. Naoki craned his neck slightly and saw the bite wound on Urabe’s right shoulder, not bleeding anymore but still raw and bruised. He skimmed his finger over it and Urabe winced slightly, still feeling the pain.

“The only thing I’m sorry about is this…” Naoki said. “Might wanna treat that before we go to school.”

“It’ll be okay.” Urabe muttered. “Hey, Jo…”

“Yeah?”

The rugby player sighed wistfully, his eyes opening. “This is crazy, isn’t it?”

“Yeah…” Naoki nodded. “It is.”

“Look, if you wanna pretend that it didn’t happen…you know, I’ll be glad to do so.”

“Well, I’d certainly do it in front of my friends—and yours, Urabe…” a light chuckle answered him. “…but between the two of us…” Naoki swallowed hard, feeling a little unsure if he really wanted to utter the words that were already hanging at the edge of his lips. “…I’d say it’s worth remembering.”

Urabe’s lips curled into a smile. Not the seductive smile he’d used on Naoki last night but a smile that spoke of relief and a hint of wistfulness to it, causing an inexplicable twist of guilt in Naoki’s gut.

“You know what…” Urabe said. “I’d say it’s worth remembering, too.”

“Our little secret, right?” Naoki asked.

“Yes…our little secret.”

Urabe slowly lifted his head off the pillow, looking around to get his bearings, and he pulled himself to sit beside Naoki, wrapping the blanket tightly around himself. His hair was disheveled, his eyes droopy, but Naoki found himself somehow liking this view of Urabe much better than the wanton whore of last night, this still half-asleep boy who rubbed his face wearily, looking just a little vulnerable, and as Naoki offered him the painkillers Urabe helped himself to two of them, washing them down with the glass of water. Then there was that uneasy silence again, where neither seemed sure of what to say, Naoki because he was too uncertain of his own words and Urabe because he was still too sleep-worn to do so.

“What time is it…” Urabe finally asked.

“Six-thirty.”

“We’d better clean up this mess…” Urabe looked around. “My mother’s not gonna be home until tomorrow, but if she sees this—”

“I’ll clean it up.” Naoki cut him off. “You go and take a hot shower or whatever. You look like you need it.”

Urabe didn’t protest, he got up and started picking his clothes off the floor, still wrapping that blanket tightly around him, and made his way towards the bathroom.

Naoki stared after him, wondering why the feelings he thought would come with the morning hadn’t come, and why he was beginning to wish that they never would. No re, no, no remorse, except for the wound ahe hhe hurt he caused. No cursing himself for getting too stoned and fucking one of the goddamn jocks as a result, no feelings of how the hell was he going to ever get the image out of his mind. He didn’t want to get the image out of his mind now, not anymore. Hangover and injuries aside, he didn’t regret anything that had happened last night. And if his instincts served him right, neither did Urabe.

Naoki got dressed, putting on yesterday’s clothes—not that anyone would notice since he did that a lot these days. His leather jacket and various accessories came on last, that gash on the left arm reminding him that he’d have a lot to explain to his friends nevertheless, and he began cleaning up the mess they’d created. The empty beer cans, the half-empty ones, the ash and the cigarette butts. He even found a can of air-freshener and sprayed it generously across the living room, hoping to get the faint reek of weed out of it. He’d never say it to anyone, but he was actually quite good in cleaning up. Not that it applied to his own room or places like Kurosawa’s den, but should the need arise, he was ready.

About half an hour later Urabe showed up, his face significantly fresher and his hair shower-damp, and he was already wearing his uniform. Well, if it could be called such. Shikanotoride wasn’t too strict on the uniform thing, and even if they tried to tighten up the rules now it sure as hell wouldn’t work. Most of the boys preferred wearing loose jackets to the high-collared tunics, and Naoki honestly couldn’t remember the last time he’d worn his. He didn’t even carry his books anymore these days—they were left in the locker at school, and even so they were rarely taken out. Urapprapproached him and held out a hand, and Naoki saw that he was holding the chain necklace that Naoki had put on him last night, in a moment of heat, and remembered that he’d pulled it tight enough to cause Urabe some pain.

“Did I hurt you with this?”

Urabe smiled reassuringly and shook his head. “No.”

“Oh…okay then.” A little nervously, he put the chain around his neck again and looked at Urabe. “You want to leave now?”

Urabe shrugged. “You want us to be seen walking into school together?”

“Oh. Yeah, I forgot.” Naoki shook his head. “Guess I better go first then, huh?”

“I think so.”

“I need to take a leak first.”

“Sure.” Urabe gestured with his thumb. “Bathroom’s all yours.”

Naoki made his way to the bathroom and there he relieved himself, before standing in front of the mirror and stared into his own reflection. He looked like he’d just been in a car wreck or something, but he couldn’t be sure whether it was the bruises or the conflicted, confused look on his face that made him look that way. He felt hopelessly awkward, the way he’d never felt before—like someone caught doing something he was’t supposed to do. His own reflection seemed to say to him, what the hell have you done? Fully dressed, all that leather and chain back on him, the identity of the Shubultz Cuts member like a thick mantle over his true person, Naoki could only search his eyes for signs of the lonely soul that had suddenly come out last night, come out and reared his ugly head and took, without subtlety, what was offered to him.

Should he be sorry?

When he walked back out Urabe was waiting for him, readying his schoolbag on the kitchen table. Urabe walked him to the front door, and as Naoki shoved his hands into his pockets and began walking down the steps he felt the other boy’s eyes on his back, and wondered if he should look over his shoulder to see if it was true. He didn’t need to, as it turned out, because it was Urabe who called out to him.

“Hey, Jo…”

Naoki looked at him, trying to seem nonchalant. “Yeah?”

Urabe held his gaze for a few long, uneasy moments, but then he smiled. “Thank you…”

“What for?”

“What for?” those beautiful eyes widened. “Last night, of course.”

Naoki didn’t even bother to hide his amazement. “You’re actually thanking me for last night?”

“Yeah…yeah, I am.” Urabe nodded matter-of-factly. “See you at school.”

Then the door was shut, leaving Naoki standing alone on the pavement, still staring after the long-gone figure standing in the doorway, still not quite believing that he’d heard correctly.

Thank you…

---------------------

“What the hell happened to you?” Kurosawa nearly jumped out of his seat when Naoki walked into the class. “Jo!”

“Wha—oh, this…” Naoki pointed towards his face. As Urabe had predicted, the bruises had now taken on a slightly bluish shade, painfully visible. “Ran into some trouble on the way home last night.”

“Who was it?” Nanami asked.

“Hasae…” Naoki said.

“From Kasagi?” Tetsu asked.

“Yeah…him and two of his friends.” Naoki said. “Came out of nowhere.”

Kurosawa’s eyes flared. “That son-of-a bitch!” he shouted, fist pounding against his desk, startling two of the girls who sat near them. “Don’t worry, Jo…we’ll get him back for this!”

“You’re okay, aren’t you?” Maezono piped in, for once raising his voice.

“I’m not hurt too bad.” Jo assured them. “Look…the fuckers tore a hole in my jacket.”

The other four looked at the tear on his jacket, Kurosawa looking even angrier than before. Nanami, however, was much more concerned. “They got your arm?”

“Just a cut.” Naoki said. “It’s okay now.”

“Who fixed you up? Your aunt?” Tetsu asked.

Naoki shrugged. “Of course. Who else?”

At this precise moment, Shugo Urabe walked in the classroom, and his glance flitted over the Shubultz Cuts for the briefest of moments—which only Naoki managed to catch—before he walked over to the other side of the classroom, where Shintaro Makimura and Wataru Mukai were sitting, talking to each other.

“Jo?” Tetsu’s voice jarred him from his brief lapse.

“Huh?”

“You feeling okay?”

Naoki forced a scowl onto his lips and sat down on one of the empty chairs. “Of course not! I’m pissed, for fuck’s sake! That coward Hasae…he had to bring friends and a knife just to take me down…I sure can’t wait to get him back for it!”

Maezono looked at him, his expression puzzled. “Then why did you look so fucking happy just now?”

Naoki looked up at his four friends, who loomed over him with the similar question on their faces. Silently cursing himself, Naoki quickly thought of an excuse and pulled off his jacket, showing them his bandaged arm.

“My first battle scar…” he said. “I’m the first. I beat you guys to it.”

Hearing this, Kurosawa laughed, and the others soon joined in. Kurosaw flung his arm around Naoki’s shoulder and shook his head. “Sometimes you’re just plain weird, Jo…”

Naoki smiled at him, looking past Kurosawa to where the jocks were sitting, where Shugo Urabe caught his gaze and held it for a brief moment before bowing his head down again, resuming his conversation with Mukai and Makimura.

“Yeah…guess I am.”

~FIN~