Disclaimer: Ookiku Furikabutte is Higuchi Asa's property

Credit: Many thanks to my beta reader, TheRimmerConnection

Warning: This dark semi-AU fic contains dub-con rape yaoi porn, tsundere! Hanai, inordinate sap, mild suspense, and depressing atmosphere, but no tragic end

A/N: Enjoy your present, Midori no Kaori.

River Sanzu is the Japanese equivalent for River Styx.

If you're looking for porn only, it's halfway to the end.

Manly Suasion

'Fifteen small cracks and three big ones,' Hanai noticed upon staring at the bister ceiling from the upper bunk bed. What else could he do at times like this?

In this room, there were no books lying around, no video games, nothing. The house—if it indeed was a house—was equipped with the barest minimum of facilities: one television that sometimes refused to display pictures, a few outdated magazines, and a sofa with jutting-out foams in the living room; a gas cooker, a broken microwave, an old refrigerator that was barely functional, and some crockery in the kitchen; one meager dining table with scrappy chairs; and a communal shower area alongside narrow cubicles for toilets.

From the other side of thin walls, the ex-captain of the Nishiura baseball team could hear the vigorously creaking bedframe and his next door teammates' voices: the low, heavy pants that could belong only to Abe as well as the louder, high-pitched moans that were undeniably Mihashi's.

'They're doing it again, huh?'

Being confined in such small quarters with no entertainment after the tensions from such an onslaught, Hanai could not blame them for needing a release. Earlier that afternoon, the team had finished off Baisotei Hachiro—a member of the People's New Party who had recently been under the spotlight and regarded as having the potential to endanger Japanese politics—as well as his bodyguards.

Summer had long ended, and so had their youths. Three months earlier, they had still scored runs by hitting a thrown ball with a bat and touching a series of four bases arranged at the corners of a ninety-foot diamond. Three months prior, they had still visited the beach and eaten shaved ice. Three months earlier, they had still argued with their siblings and complained when their parents nagged them to study. Three months earlier, they had still been ordinary high school students.

Now they had been reduced to a team of manslayers, prowling around with blood on their hands and fear in their hearts.

###

The higher-ups had arranged a false time for Baisotei to appear at the harbor. (He was supposed to meet an illegal Russian weapon trader an hour later at the said location.) Mihashi, the best sniper in the team, hid 650 meters away on the roof of the meteorological office on the opposite bank of the canal. Abe was sent to back up Mihashi, i.e. analyzing the situation, deciding when to retreat, and protecting the sniper in the event that their hideout were discovered by the enemy and close combat became necessary.

The rest of the team ambushed the politician from a close range. After his chauffeur parked at the quayside roadway, next to the tide level indicator, Baisotei stepped out of his bulletproof car for a puff of cigarette. The moment the tendrils of smoke entangled themselves in the middle-aged man's imperial moustache, Hanai raised his hand to signal their attack.

Oki and Sakaeguchi remained on standby in the barge at the canal side, in case the target resolved to escape via water. Izumi, who drove the van that transported the assassins, too, remained on standby for the posthaste departure after the mission was completed. Tajima and Hanai appeared from the left side of the cargo transit shed directly opposite the car, Nishihiro and Mizutani from the right side.

In an instant, the captain of the assassins whipped out his gun and fired at the politician's first bodyguard before the tall man could react fast enough to raise his own weapon. The victim fell within eight seconds with a hole in the middle of his forehead. Baisotei attempted to duck into the car, but Tajima shot one of the tires, and Nishihiro, another. Deprived of his chance for escape, Baisotei gritted his teeth and drew a handgun from the pocket of his inner jacket—as expected, the target, who had not only served as a lieutenant in his past military career, but also had the eastern yakuza support, was clad with firearms.

Tajima and Hanai dived out of the line of fire as Baisotei's second bodyguard tried to mow them down, sweeping his submachine gun back and forth until the street was blanketed in a hail of lead cartridges.

Another multi-barreled rifle protruded from the front window of the car, and its barrels span ruthlessly. The driver's gun bellowed and sputtered flame, forcing Nishihiro and Mizutani to take shelter by the wall of the cargo transit shed again. The gut-wrenching stench of gunpowder mixed with blood rose sickly into the air.

Amid the rain of bullets, Mizutani bombarded the second bodyguard, and one of the pellets struck his opponent's shoulder. The brawny man jerked, but did not bleed. His barrage swooshed past the sides of Tajima's ear and neck.

Learning that the bodyguard wore a ballistic vest underneath his suit, the teenage assassins aimed solely for the head from then on. The tall man yelped in pain, as a hole appeared in his earlobe where a bullet struck him. Life flew away from his body during the fourth minute, when a bullet punched through his neck, streaked with blood.

The chauffeur abandoned his now-empty rifle and got out of the car, a shotgun in hand. He had not even had the chance to close the car door when Mihashi's bullet whistled through the air and thudded into the back of his head, putting an end to his life.

Baisotei, who had run out of bullets, dodged to the side and switched to his second handgun. The hood of the car blocked Mihashi's view of the politician, so he could not fire until the middle-aged man advanced in Hanai and Tajima's direction.

Baisotei tracked his gunfire toward Hanai's head, but Tajima saw his opportunity. The freckled boy balanced for a moment, and then threw his knife at the politician's hand. The middle-aged man's index finger was chopped off whereas his middle finger partially severed. His gun fell to the ground, metal clanging clamorously against asphalt.

Swearing in pain, the politician crouched to pick up the gun. However, he never had the chance of ever touching it again, for Mihashi's bullet—accurate as always—denied him such a luxury. A flash of emotion flitted across his face; he had known fear, once upon a long time ago, but now, the agony radiating from his skin like exploding heat reminded him of the sensation he had forgotten. In his hazy mind, his mistress' voice reminded him of their supposed tryst tonight, in the bungalow he had bought for her. The last thing he saw was four pairs of sneakers closing in, and then darkness blanketed him. His body collapsed, blood-dripping hand sprawling less than an inch away from his trusted gun. Smoke was still rolling off the black metal of the insensate muzzle. More blood, spurting from the freshly-made hole in his skull, irrigated the asphalt.

###

Assassination orders like this had started coming in during the seventh week of their stay at the barrack-like dwelling, though, occasionally, they acquired their share of bodyguard duties instead. Suyama had fallen on their first mission; his body was wrapped in a body bag and soon forgotten. When Tajima made an inquiry about the ashes to pray for, what he received was a broken rib.

The rest of them had managed to survive up to now; was it a blessing or a curse? Which would be worse: death or living on, condemned to spill blood once every few days?

Hanai repressed a sigh. At this time of the day, his father was likely to be catching a bullet train from work. His little sisters were probably baking a cake, supervised by their mother, who would say something along the lines of "Asuka, sift the flour slowly, so you don't spill too much. Haruka, add the water a little at a time, not all at once." What would his family think if they were to know his current situation?

###

Three months before, in August, Hanai and the rest of the Nishiura baseball team had been aboard a bus on the way to the final match at Koshien.

They were passing a deserted, tortuous mountain route. Shiga-sensei, who was at the wheel when the trailer—the damned trailer that had changed their destiny once and for all—came speeding from the opposite side, died instantly in the crash. He did everything within his capacity to avoid the accident, but the other vehicle, Hanai suspected, had been targeting them all along.

Hanai's suspicion was proven correct when a team of armed men in protective suits, almost like the ones astronauts wore, stormed inside. Coach Momoe stood up from her seat and demanded an explanation. She was taken down. If there were any consolation in such a misfortune, it was the fact that her agony did not last for long. Her lifeless body fell next to her murderer's foot three seconds after his bullet had pierced her heart.

One of the armed men peered at the students' terror-stricken faces, each pale with fear. Mocking them, the assassin trampled the dead woman's head, a smug grin gracing his scarred face.

"All you need to do is follow my orders. Do more than that, you'll share a boat with this woman on River Sanzu. Now move!" The voice was stern and commanding, as though pumped through a loudspeaker. Along with it, came the sounds of an ostentatious display of sporadic gunfire.

The students walked in a single file into the trailer. None of them dared to stop and close Momoe's eyes. A shove from one kidnapper's rifle butt sent Nishihiro, who walked hindmost, stumbling forward, almost collapsing on Izumi. The armed men took them to the 'barrack,' where their baseball equipment was replaced with artillery. Compared to the meager household items, the firearms and hearing protection were top-notch.

"Shoot those cans at least three times out five tries. No lunch for losers."

Why these mercenaries kidnapped high school boys, nobody knew. It could be because of the lower cost, compared to hiring professionals. Or it could be for other reasons. Whatever the reason was, it'd be no more than guesswork. Other than fighting instruction, their capturers didn't talk. They just ordered. And forced.

When the baseball club members saw their manager limping with disheveled hair, bruised skin, and tattered clothes toward the shower room, they could guess what Shinooka's silent tears meant. When they discovered her corpse suspended by a rope from the ceiling on the following morning, they were more than certain of what those bastards had done to her. At that time, they felt that she had suffered the worst of their kidnappers' savagery. Only after being forced to carry out countless killings did the ex-baseball team members realize that their fate was no less miserable than their late manager's.

"We're leaving this place!" said Mizutani, pointing at the kidnappers, one blustery afternoon, "You can't make us stay."

The guy with a large nose drew his gun and aimed it at the boy. The other boys watched anxiously, but their throats suddenly became too dry to speak any word of interference.

But the large-nosed guy's fellow mercenary grinned and took out a bunch of papers from his pocket. "If we can't…" He threw the sheets onto the ground, near Mizutani's feet. "…They can."

Each sheet was a photograph of one of the Nishiura baseball players' family. In one picture, Mizutani's parents and elder sister, wearing mourning attire, stood in front of a grave marker that was inscribed with his full name. In another picture, Sakaeguchi's father, elder sister, and younger brother were praying in front of the family shrine, which was decked with his mother's and his own black-framed photos. Without exception, the rest of the Nishiura boys found the pictures of their families there. In any case, it was certain that the TV news would have announced that the bus transporting the Nishiura baseball club had exploded on the mountainside.

At the sight of his family among those photos, Hanai averted his gaze, fists clenched. Then, he felt Tajima's palm on his shoulder. Hanai looked at the short figure next to him and a strange feeling rushed through him. He was not alone in this cruel world. Tajima shared his burden. Despite the short boy's ridiculous behavior and overly eager sex drive, Hanai was grateful to have a friend like Tajima.

And yet, when could they stop killing? Would this kind of life ever end at all?

###

"Nngh! Ta … taka … ya—ahhh!"

'They're on first name basis now?' Hanai mused upon hearing Mihashi's moan of pleasure from the other side of the wall.

Since Abe and Mihashi had already harbored feelings for each other back when they all had been Nishiura baseball players, this development counted as the next stage of their relationship rather than the force of circumstances—they were so lucky to have each other in this kind of shitty life. The relationship between Tajima and him, on the other hand…

Hanai bit his lip. He did not want to think about Tajima. And most certainly not the way the freckled boy leered at him or stole a few kisses from him while he was not looking or unashamedly groped his butt or tried to hump him! How many times had those things happened? Geez!

"Ah! Ah! Aah!" More of Mihashi's gasps perforated the night air.

Hanai got up and climbed down the ladder of his bunk bed. Those erotic sounds were not helping. He had to go somewhere else. He remembered that it was his turn to clean the communal area the next day, and since it was already past midnight, tomorrow had become today and he decided to clean the shower first.

The sound of running water warned Hanai that the shower room was occupied, so he waited outside. He heard a toad croaking in the distance and an owl hooting farther away. The half-moon was peeping diffidently from behind the clouds. The night remained unperturbed by mankind's mundane affairs.

Hanai sighed. Twenty minutes had passed, and yet the splashing water showed no sign of ever ceasing. Thinking that someone had forgotten to turn the tap off, he went to check inside.

All the shower nozzles were idle bar one. Underneath the sprinkling water was the expanse of Tajima's backside. A weal was etched on his upper back—a trophy from taking a bullet for Hanai, not so long ago, in a mission not much different from today's. Hanai knew he should get out of there, he should just go away, he should remove himself from the presence of that particular boy … but his feet were rooted to the ground. Against his will, his eyes were transfixed upon the sight of his teammate's naked figure: the straightening of Tajima's usually spiky hair under the shower, the width of his sturdy shoulders, the delicate musculature of his back, the smoothness of his exposed skin, the tapering of the torso into a sinfully slender waist, the voluptuous swell of his butt, and the curvature of his legs.

As though all those things hadn't been enough to make Hanai gasp, now he heard Tajima moaning his name. So messy. So desirable. From his back-and-forth movements, it was apparent that Tajima was stroking himself.

Tajima turned around and, much to Hanai's horror, he couldn't take his eyes off Tajima's exposed body. Staring at ceaseless water droplets gliding down his teammate's neck to his chest and over each ripple of his hard abs, Hanai gulped. The hardened cock that proudly stood straight out from the sable bush of Tajima's pubes, with water rushing off the side and tip of it, had all his attention. It was slightly slimmer than his own, but longer.

A strange idea visited Hanai unbidden. He wondered how it would feel to run his hands over the hard planes of Tajima's stomach, to have that smooth skin yield under his touches. Then, he'd let his own hands drift to the shorter boy's hips, to smooth over the flat bones there and feel the way his thigh muscles dropped away sharply. He'd save the best for last and wait until Tajima's erection beckoned in invitation with pre-come from his teasing.

"You should touch me," husked Tajima without a trace of embarrassment in his voice, as though reading the spectator's mind. When his eyes met Hanai's, they were darkened with desire.

But Tajima's voice woke Hanai from his daze. The first thing the ex-Nishiura baseball club captain registered was discomfort; his dick was nudging his shorts, throbbing inside the confinement of the fabric. Was he just lusting after that boy? Heck, he was not a homo!

Eyes wide with guilt and repulsion at his own misconduct, he opened his mouth to apologize. No word came out—just a hitched breath and a blush. A realization hit him. 'Has he been expecting me?'

Again, Hanai commanded his body to move, but yet again, all he could do was stare as the shorter boy approached. Slowly, Tajima's hand reached for him, water dripping from his fingers like crystals. Wetness permeated the waistband of Hanai's shorts. No words elaborated Tajima's action, but speech had no part to play when the power of lust had done its suasion.

Tajima stood on his toes and captured Hanai's lips. His hair, brushing Hanai's forehead, was cold. And yet, his tongue, which caressed the seam of Hanai's lips, was hot—so hot that it felt burning. The taller teenager groaned as his friend began to explore every contour of his mouth, pressing their swollen lips even harder against each other. How Hanai hated it … or, rather, how he hated himself for allowing Tajima to proceed with such a shameless act!

Hanai closed his eyes, comforting himself with the false thought that if he couldn't see Tajima, Tajima couldn't see him either. The guilt was ponderous and it clung to him: How he wished to quit coiling his tongue with Tajima's … except that now he had started, stopping was no longer within his capacity. Even pride could do nothing much to prevent the shuddering breath against his lips and the vibration against his tongue.

Tajima was kissing him with uncharacteristic desperation, mouth warm and wet against his, hands shaking as they traced over his face and down the slope of his still quivering arms. He thought that the freckled boy might have been trying to tell him something, but his satiated mind couldn't quite register anything beyond the warmth that had flooded from his partner's body and was now consuming his thoughts. For a moment, Hanai forgot that Tajima was a guy; forgot everything as their lips fused together, their tongues intertwined with each other, and the world around them melted into bliss.

A pair of hands wrapped around his back, their wetness causing his shirt to cling to his skin, but even such discomfort was a small price to pay when the swirl of the other boy's tongue pleasured his own to such a degree. Tajima's kiss was opium to him—one sip could never be enough. Hanai gave in to the sensation, surrendering himself with a feverish look on his face…

…until Tajima spoiled the mood by groping Hanai's ass a bit too abruptly.

"No!" Hanai shoved Tajima away. "That's … sick."

"Come on, Hanai. I know you're enjoying this as much as I am. Your moans sort of make it clear."

Had he been honest, he would have told Tajima how he loved the way the shorter boy's fingers caressed him and the warm tingles that shot up his spine. But pride ruled his world, just as much as—if not even more so than—honesty.

Hanai clenched his fists. "No. This is wrong. So wrong."

"But Hanai…" Tajima was not giving up on him. He approached his roommate, arms open in a gesture of embrace.

"I said NO!" He pushed Tajima harder than he had intended to, and the smaller boy crashed onto the floor.

Landing butt-first on the tiles, Tajima winced and rubbed bruised the part his bruised rear. He took his time before uttering a whiny "ouch." As he did so, he exposed his genitals to the only audience in the room: his own captain.

Hanai gulped; the protuberance between Tajima's open legs was standing very rigidly. He turned his head sharply away; still, it was too late. Against his will, he had blushed. "Put on some clothes, you moron!"

But instead of standing up and reaching out for his pants, Tajima repositioned himself on all fours, exhibiting his rounded ass to Hanai's view.

"You…!"

"Hey, look at this tile; there's something here," Tajima overrode Hanai. "It felt different from normal when it hit my bottom."

Hanai gazed at the portion of the tiled floor, where Tajima's finger was pointing. There was a corroded metal bar, six inches long and half an inch thick, attached to the slab—just enough space for a hand to get around it.

"Nngh! Urrf!" Tajima strove to pull it.

Hanai, meanwhile, felt an immense guilt creep over him. All he could think about was how Tajima's groans would sound if the freckled boy's body was writhing underneath him. Face flushed, legs wide open, hips rolling, ass wiggling…

'No, I mustn't think about that!' Hanai mentally slapped himself.

Tajima gave one final, wrenching pull to the bar, and a trapdoor opened in the floor, but he had lost his balance as he tugged, and toppled into the hole.

"Tajima!" Hanai leapt forward, worried about his friend's safety.

For a split second, Hanai thought his fingers had caught Tajima's, but they merely brushed one another, and as he rushed forward, straining to grab his falling roommate, he lost his own footing, scrabbled at the edge of the hole for a second, then fell, following Tajima down.

Fortunately, they fell on something soft. Piles of sacks—some empty, others containing sand or mortar—cushioned them from the otherwise extremely painful landing.

The two teenagers found themselves in a place that was in total contrast to the fully-lit shower room they'd just left; they were in the basement, away from the familiar rooms and communal areas. It was dusty and even smellier down here—obviously the neglected part of the building. Even as they stole along, dust began to come on behind them like stalking specters so that they had to hurry before they were captured by the fingerless tendrils. There were at least five meters between the basement floor and the shower room above; even if they were to pile up all the sacks and one stand on the other's shoulders on top of the heap, they would still not be able to reach the upper floor. No rope lay nearby to help them up; they could not return from where they had come.

By the light filtering through the trapdoor, they could see that the feebly lit underground passageway wore the dilapidated look of decades of decay—a ruin of plaster, all cracked and warped, consumed by rot, and covered with a leprous-looking growth of fungus. Wads of detached plaster lay scattered where they had fallen, revealing crumbly brickwork while other parts of the walls were draped with spider webs from cracks and rafters. The ceiling had been severely affected by the infiltration of rainwater, and although there were light bulbs along its length, the light switches were nowhere to be found. Worst of all was the dense mustiness of mold and mildew, for no single window graced the desolate place.

Only when their eyes had become accustomed to the twilight ambience did Hanai and Tajima learn the nature of the long hall in which they stood. The place was flanked by mirroring rows of vacant cells, their bars corroded with the passing years. The pace of the two boys' heartbeats quickened as they realized that the corridor they had been sauntering along was nothing but a prison block.

"Maybe those who kidnapped us also kidnapped other people and trained them to become assassins, just like us, but when they failed or disobeyed orders, they got tortured and executed here—who knows?"

When the words left Tajima's mouth, somehow they sounded shriller than he had meant them to be to Hanai's ears. The captain did not answer.

"You're awfully quiet, Hanai." In spite of Tajima's inability to read Hanai's expression in this duskiness, his captain's stiffening posture became a telltale of his worried state. "Hey, I was kidding, all right? Judging by its smell, this place hasn't been used for quite some time. Chances are, our kidnappers don't even know it exists."

Reluctantly, Hanai replied, "Y-yeah."

He did not sound the least bit convinced.

"Well, staying here won't achieve anything," Tajima stated, "Come on, let's have a look."

As they started off down the unfamiliar prison passage, drawing away from the reach of the light, conversation from somewhere above came to their ears, but it sounded a long way off. Mercifully, they did not hear any laughter, for even though they knew that the voices had to derive from their housemates, hearing such sounds in this darkness created eeriness in abundance. After all, this drab hole, with its smell of dirt and dinginess, had a creepiness all of its own. The way they were now taking seemed ill-advised, and with every passing second their palms swept wider, more urgently, as they failed to make contact with anything but empty air.

Their own shadows were the only things moving. Funny though, how some of those seemed darker than before and somehow took on slightly different shapes when they looked away and then glanced quickly back. The shifts in atmosphere—the chill that regularly brushed by their legs even in the still air—tested their courage. Neither boy wanted to admit that goosebumps were crawling up their arms and nape.

They continued to walk, exploring the subterranean place without any source of illumination. In this gloom, sight was a useless sense. Even so, they felt that with every step they took, dust was accumulating more and more thickly underneath their bare feet. Their hearing perception was growing more acute, too—Hanai would have sworn he could hear Tajima's pulse beating distinctively against the otherwise absolute silence and he was sure the throbbing of his heart sounded just as loud in Tajima's ears.

Then, without warning, a screech sliced through the tenebriousness, causing Hanai to jolt and leap back. He almost fell over a large chunk of debris, but fingers curled around the collar of his T-shirt and pulled him upwards.

Still panting, Hanai muttered, "Thanks."

"No problem," replied Tajima.

The scraping and scratching noises continued distantly from behind the walls. At these sounds, the two boys half-expected the company of mice. But no, even the rodents chose refused to grace the disquieted boys with their presence in this discomforting lightlessness.

They walked past a few more cubicles before Tajima stopped at one cell on his right. He swung the door wide and entered its confinement. In terms of size, the cells were not far different from their bedrooms upstairs; however, in addition to the bunk bed, each cell contained a washbasin and a latrine.

"Oh, so this is what prison cells look like up close," remarked the freckled teenager, his tone untroubled. In fact, he sounded as excited as a child at an amusement park.

Hanai balked, hesitating to follow his companion, but after a brief consideration, he decided that it'd be worse if he were to be left alone in this torturous darkness than enter an empty prison cell with his friend. Gulping, he stepped inside.

As soon as the captain got behind the cage-like metal grilles, his companion beckoned, "Look, look, I've found a handcuff."

Hanai huffed. "Go celebrate after you find a flashlight or something! What use is a handcuff in a situation like this?"

Before Hanai knew it, Tajima had grabbed both of his wrists and restrained them with the manacles. The chain connecting the pair of manacles ran between the bars, holding the taller boy's hand in place—be it at baseball, running, or shooting, Hanai could never beat Tajima's speed, and now, Tajima finished his work with a triumphant declaration, "For this."

"Oi, Tajima, are you nuts?! This handcuff doesn't come with a key, does it?"

"Relax, I'm confident in my lock-picking skill. I'll set you free later."

"Enough is enough; let me go this instant!"

Instead of obeying his captain, he came closer. Hanai became aware of a tapping against his backside and realized that it was, as Tajima often phrased it, "a need that can't be ignored." The other boy's dick was pressing between his thighs and this was enough to snap the self-control he'd been maintaining up to that point. Anger and arousal collided inside him. As much as he wanted to deny Tajima's advance, the hard bulge straining against his pants revealed his own need. Besides, the shorter boy was in a similar state. Hanai's breath hitched as he realized that the ridges of Tajima's hard abs were pushing against his back, and the shorter boy's erection was poking him, warm and moist at the tip.

Suddenly, Hanai realized—in spite of the dimness of the basement—how exposed he was to Tajima's gaze in this position. "Tajima, this isn't funny! Let me go!"

Tajima had wanted to hear the rebuke in the way his captain breathlessly said his name. "Hanai, do you seriously think that I'm joking, even now?"

In contrast to Hanai's panicked yell, Tajima's reply was whispery. Even though Hanai could not see Tajima's expression, it was evident from his voice, raw with lust, how much his roommate wanted him. The next thing Hanai knew, ten fingers were working to slip him out of his pants, letting the garment drop around Hanai's ankles.

The more Hanai struggled to break free, the deeper the manacles bit into the flesh of his wrists. Cringing in pain, he bellowed once again, "TAJIMA!"

But Tajima wet his fingers quickly with saliva before letting them slip lower, and into Hanai's body, stretching him in the most erotic of ways, pressing and thrusting to strike the best spots inside of him and prepare him for what was to come.

"You won't get away with this, Tajima! Release me! Now!"

Hanai tried to pull his hips away from Tajima's poking finger, but as he did so, Tajima sank to his knees behind him, his freckled face pressed forward, following the reluctant orifice wherever it went. The taller boy tried to close his legs but the flesh of his thighs pliantly obeyed the command of the other boy's eager palms. Hanai cursed in his mind; he was totally at his roommate's mercy. If there were such anything to be glad for while being done from behind like this, it was that at least he couldn't see Tajima's face squashed against the fissure of his own most embarrassing spot.

"Tajima, get your face out of there!" This time, Hanai's squeak was an octave higher. "Or I'll beat you into pulp!"

There was no response. Instead, a slick, agile object jabbed into him—Tajima's tongue rimmed the pucker of his ring, and then shoved inside. The tang of an asshole had to taste nasty, so why did Tajima keep delving and probing and exploring his intimate parts despite all his protests?

His crotch tingled and twitched as he felt the trickles of the other boy's saliva running down his thighs. The sneaky bastard was spearing his hole with the tip of his tongue now, lewdly slobbering away until the drool flowed down dripping to the floor.

"Tajima, you bastard!" Chagrin was evident in Hanai's tone.

The shorter boy's reply was to pull away abruptly. Hanai sighed, thinking he had convinced him at last.

However, it seemed his voice had only served to inspire Tajima with an even more urgent need to dominate. In a moment, he was startled by a further intrusion. With a careful, very slow thrust, Tajima let Hanai expand to match the girth of his finger. Lubricated by only saliva, it took quite a while to stretch him enough. Nevertheless, Tajima seemed to have unlimited patience, waiting until Hanai's muscles had relaxed enough before adding another digit. A third finger entered alongside the first two, sliding, stretching, and teasing Hanai's prostate.

And then it was there—Hanai felt the tip of Tajima's erection pressing against his rear entrance, and he squealed, "Tajima, don't even think about it! There's no way it's going to fit inside me!"

But the next second, he was in. With delicate care, he allowed the taller boy the time to open himself to the tip of his dick.

'So thick!'

Hanai jolted at the sudden invasion; it was only the head of Tajima's dick, but it was enough to make his eyes fling open with pain and his breath catch in his throat. The first sensation of Tajima's pulsing member inside him was such a shock, the heavy pressure consuming him, making his pulse race. An urge to scream 'You're hurting me! Get that damn thing out of me!' filled his mind, but he suppressed the deep guttural groan that nearly erupted beyond his control by biting his lower lip. Hands grasping the iron bars before him, he reminded himself, 'I'm a man. His captain.'

He had been penetrated. Pierced. Filled. He could never be the same again. Each millimeter of the remaining plunge was a terrible, interminable invasion, and yet, little by little, his tight channel engulfed his mate's fullness—wet and keen and hard. When he felt Tajima's legs press against his thighs, it took all of his self-control not to wail at the deepest point of the thrust. His knees buckled, but he was held firmly in place.

"Hanai," Tajima choked.

With the articulation of that single word—just one word—Hanai knew Tajima was feeling this as intensely as he was. But it did not mean he approved of his companion's action. He was trying to fight the tightening muscles that tensed up his stomach, when he heard, "Hanai, it's so hot inside you."

"S-shut up and just pull it out!" Hanai replied in embarrassment. To him, it was Tajima's dick that was hot like hellfire compared to the stale air of the dungeon.

As if to solace the aching boy, Tajima pressed his mouth to Hanai's shoulder, breathing in his captive's shuddering pain. With the next thump of the captain's heart against him, a deep vibration echoed up through him, and was redoubled in the depths of Hanai's body. Tajima stayed still for a few moments, and then, gingerly, he withdrew.

Tajima's breath was so warm against Hanai's nape. The taller boy looked down at himself; at his back, Tajima's dick sank into him again, between his thighs. The penetration hurt so immensely, yet, oddly enough, it was not entirely unwanted.

"Nngh, you're getting so tight around me … relax a little, Hanai."

'Easy for you to say,' the captain grumbled in his head.

Behind Hanai's back, Tajima watched his cock disappear between the curves of his captain's ass with the kind of awe he usually reserved for his favorite player's home run. Before he realized it, his flesh was all the way in, tightly gripped to the hilt inside Hanai. Letting his hands slide down to Hanai's sides, he swayed his captain's hips. "You're mine, Hanai." Tajima's fingers caressed his backside ever so gently, tracing the length of his spine. "Why can't you allow yourself to accept my love?"

Hanai clenched his fists and squeezed his eyes tight shut. Nothing he did could soothe the pain. He winced as he felt Tajima pressing deeper and deeper inside of him, demanding and conquering. A new sensation blossomed in his loins—an odd burning that instigated something akin to a bowel movement. The taller boy squirmed; his body tried to wring down on the thickness of flesh that held him open. It was unbelievable how something that hurt so much could also feel so fantastically good. His skin was flushed with need; every part of him burnt with the fierceness of his determination to battle the unfamiliar pleasure that his teammate had brought him.

Instinct took over as Tajima plowed over and over into his partner's tight depths. He kept on pounding in slow succession, telling Hanai in grunts how good his ass was. He was gentle, shifting his dick in his captain so Hanai could get used to his movements inside him. It took a lot of restraint, but he heard the way the boy he loved was breathing, revealing his continuing pain, despite all Hanai's efforts not to show it.

Chest rising and falling rapidly, Hanai fought not to melt into the amorous siege. He was violated and pleasured all at once. Assailed, yet entertained. Pillaged, yet rewarded. Forced, yet loved. His stiffening muscles began to relax and his struggles stilled, but, more revealingly, the tip of his hardening erection started to produce a small bead of liquid. As the pain speared him and the friction against his prostate shot sparks to his groin, he twitched, leaking pre-come over the floor. Against his conscience, his body relished the act of sodomy.

A spark raced up Hanai's spine, brought forth by a particularly good stroke by the other boy's cock. It rocketed up through the numerous nerve endings, bursting forth into the empty hole of his mind. His seducer continued his tantalizing assaults, never once faltering in his efforts to please him. Along with the continual squelching sound, Hanai's resistance melted.

'What's this feeling? Am I going crazy?'

The soothing dimness wrapped them for a long while in this gentle rhythm. More sparks of heat plundered Hanai's body relentlessly, roaring through his veins and searing his nerves. Each gout brought a new memory of the boy with whom his body was currently joined—the batting practices at Nishiura, the argument at lunch over whether prawn was better than pork, the little jokes Tajima told him on the bunk bed of their little room. It shattered the vestiges of resentment in his mind.

Hanai jolted as slender fingers carefully encircled his dick, already fully erect and leaking pre-come. Tajima's hands freely roved back and forth over the rigid flesh; his strokes were tentatively at first, but then his movements became bolder. Again, Hanai clenched his jaw, resisting the urge to buck against his seducer's hand. However, no matter how much he resisted, his body couldn't hide its reaction. His pulse sped up. His eager organ grew even harder. His ass started pushing back to meet each of Tajima's thrusts, making his enjoyment clear.

Now aware of the desire radiating off his captain, Tajima took it as a sign that he was allowed to move more freely and he did so. Adroit fingers rolled and pinched Hanai's nipples, eliciting sounds from the captain which neither of them had ever heard before. Every inch Tajima slid inside his partner was warm and inviting. He moved his hips slightly from side to side, feeling how this changed the pressure on his dick and made the other boy whimper. He still took it slow, angling his hips upwards as he slid back in stroking Hanai's prostate again. The exact moment was obvious: Hanai, who had been biting his lip to prevent his whimpers from escaping, now squeaked. The defeated boy gripped the bars of the prison cell tightly with trembling fingers. He bucked his hips against his conqueror, arching his back and spreading his legs wider to invite deeper thrusts.

The underground chamber was quiet, save for the ragged sound of their breathing and the wet, squishing sounds of flesh grinding against damp flesh. As the minutes passed, Hanai became devoured with the need for more, suddenly filled with the wonder of whether he might cease to exist without this connection, without this fulfillment, without this penetration, without this piercing to his core. He arched his back, every nerve in his body screaming for release. No matter how many times he clenched his jaw or bit his lips, he could not completely prevent his groans from growing louder as Tajima surged deep into the cleft between his buttocks.

'This will be the only time,' thought Hanai, not knowing that today's event was nothing but the first of many repeating cycles that would continue for decades to come. Nor did it occur to him that the next day, Tajima would crawl into his bed, slip between his thighs, and suck and suck and suck—pausing only long enough to say, "Hey, Hanai, last night I didn't get to see the kind of face you made when you came. This time, show it to me."—until their housemates could hear his moans loud and clear.

Right now, gouts of fire blazed through Hanai's groin, mingling with the pain of Tajima's invasion. He gasped, submerged in physical sensations that were sapping his will to resist. He inhaled sharply as he tried in vain to stop this craziness once more; the conflicting sensations resulted in tears welling up in his eyes.

"Nghh … you … damn … mmmm," Hanai found himself panting and struggling to form his words more coherently, but found it difficult as his brain seemed to be centered solely on his groin. There was something he wanted to say, something important, something about how two males shouldn't copulate with each other, no matter how good it felt.

Wait…'good'? What the heck was he thinking?!

All the while, Tajima maintained that hard, steady thrusting inside his captive, jabbing his hips, hitting Hanai's prostate and squeezing the head of Hanai's throbbing dick at the same time. He did not bother to hide his smirk—not that Hanai could see what was happening behind his back anyway.

For someone who was protesting so much, Hanai was thrusting his hips back at him with just as much fervor. Unbidden, his movements quickened and a new tension filled the air. He could feel himself getting close, enjoying Hanai's body too much, unable to hold on. His strokes got shorter and more erratic as his whole body tensed up. He was clutching his captain so hard that Hanai's hips would be bruised with fingermarks.

Hanai felt his orgasm building—he felt it in the tips of his fingers and toes, every muscle going tense as the heat spread from his groin and seemed to bubble through him. Sweat beaded on his chest and back and thighs; a different heat was pooling in his stomach, signaling the approach of his release.

"No…" Hanai groaned as the pressure built and built; Tajima was moving faster, thrusting his hips erratically and gasping for breath. A flurry of thrusts produced a loud slapping noise as Tajima's jiggling balls slammed into his captain's crotch time and time again.

"Hanai, I've always been in love with you…" Tajima's hand travelled up to Hanai's forearm.

"Ah!" Hanai trembled. His face contorted in a blend of pleasure and pain. His voice was husky and laced with lust.

"…and I'll always love only you." Tajima reached for Hanai's fingers and interlaced them with his own.

"Nngh!" Hanai's body jolted. So it was true, after all, that this was not all about physical need.

'Dammit!' Why would Tajima say such a thing when their limbs were entwined like this? Tajima's hand on Hanai's dick started to shake, driving Hanai over the edge. The captain's breathing stuttered, short staccato breaths presaged imminent eruption.

"Nooo…" Hanai cried a loud whimper, his breath coming in ragged gasps, his usual composure gone. His voice held nothing but lust and frustration, the tide of orgasmic pleasure that had been building in the pit of his stomach intensified more than ever, roaring through his mind and warning him that there was nothing he could do to stop it.

'Any more than this, I'll—'

He was an animal—a rutting, sex-crazed animal that cared for nothing but copulation. His muscles convulsed strongly around his partner's member.

"AAHHH!"

Hanai tried to slow his rise to climax, to pace himself, but his body would not listen. Tajima had thrown him into the throes of sensation again, exploding against his heavy thrusts. Climax ripped through Hanai, making his whole body spasm uncontrollably as the viscous white liquid gushed from his dick, soiling the floor.

The evident tension in Hanai's body drove Tajima to his limit as he continued to thrust. He felt Hanai's body tensing and thrashing under his persistent plunges as he rode the wave of the taller boy's orgasm. He pulled Hanai's head around to meet his own lips and kissed his captain as the taller boy came, letting Hanai moan into his mouth as his body tensed and released with the sensation.

Hanai sagged to his knees, his will to resist fading in the face of the throbbing pleasure that had consumed his body. He panted. This was not how he had planned his first time to be. And yet, the sensation of orgasm felt so good that he couldn't possibly hate his rapist, his teammate, his buddy, his best friend, his one and only Tajima.

Tajima slammed forward one last time and stilled. The buildup overflowed. With a groan, the shorter teen stiffened, and Hanai felt the warmth and the wetness as his partner flooded his insides. Tajima's balls clenched tight against his ass cheeks. As Tajima fired a long hard load, Hanai shouted, "NO! NOT INSIDE, YOU IDIOT!"

But instead of releasing his grasp, Tajima held Hanai tighter until he had emptied his last drop. Then he slumped forward, spent and breathless in the still humidity of the subterranean chamber.

Hanai heard the shorter boy grunting into his nape, "Sorry … feels so good inside you … don't want to pull out … it's not like our kidnappers are gonna let any of us stroll to a convenience store for some condoms and lube."

Although Hanai kept muttering the word "idiot" incessantly in a mantra-like chant, in Tajima's ears his expletives sounded like a doting serenade. He couldn't see his partner's blush in darkness, but he was sure that it was there. Embracing Hanai tightly, he clung to his mate's sweaty skin with every ounce of devotion he possessed. He saw brightness, he saw stars, he saw the entire cosmos. He had made love with the person he cared for as dearly as his own life. He became one with Hanai Azusa.

And yet, his ears caught an unmistakable whimper from beneath him; Hanai was sobbing.

"Hanai," he called with the gentlest timbre he could muster.

"Hanai," he called again.

Still there was no answer.

"Look, I'm sorry for hurting you and taking you against your will, but—"

"Sorry? Bah! You think a single word is enough to solve everything and repair all damage?" There was no hope of forgiveness in Hanai's irate tone and it stung Tajima with guilt.

"But what else can I do? You rejected all my attempts to kiss you before tonight…"

For a long, dreadful moment, time stood still. A horrible silence stretched between them, every ticking second feeling like protracted hours. At last, Hanai spoke with a rather croaky voice, "Tajima, release me. Haven't you had enough?"

"Enough?" replied the spiky-haired boy silkily—too silky for his usual easygoing self. Tajima was leaning against him, just letting himself come down from the high while he listened to his partner's harsh breathing. The sight of taut muscle and sinew, rippling beneath his captain's skin—even in this dusky dungeon—was not of any help in cooling his desire. "Not even close."

Tajima started to attack Hanai with a feather-light brush of lips on the bare skin of his back. The kisses became sloppier as they skimmed down his spine, making it quiver. The little groans that Tajima breathed onto the back of Hanai's neck arced through him like a frisson of electricity, causing the captive to groan in return and stretch his body, desiring more. Tajima got rougher then, peppering his partner's back with biting kisses and sucking in a manner that was sure to leave marks the following day. The new assaults made the Hanai grip the iron bars more tightly, and soon his captor's hand covered his, intertwining their fingers.

With a purr that Hanai hadn't known Tajima could make, the shorter boy remarked, "Earlier, I merely marked you as mine. Now let me make love to you properly."

"What?! Have you lost your mind?!"

"Well, it's partly your fault, too, Hanai; you're too sexy to be ignored."

Small whimpers slipped from Hanai's mouth every now and again, but Tajima's groans were muffled by Hanai's flesh as he continued to kiss the exposed skin of his captain's rear. He ran his hot, slick tongue over the length of Hanai's spine, sending out sparks of newly lit passion with its persistent caresses.

Soon, Hanai's breathing turned into gasps, his body pushing desperately upwards towards Tajima's touch; the tickling laps of his mate's tongue over his skin lit up his every nerve. There was an insatiable hunger between his legs and his desire only rose higher as Tajima's long member brushed along his thigh. He was baffled by the thought that he had hated Tajima's touches less than half an hour ago and now he needed those touches more than … well, everything, really.

Aware that Hanai's voice was frailer than usual and of the wild beating of Hanai's heart, Tajima felt clearly encouraged and continued his ministrations. Sliding between Hanai's knees, Tajima's fingers danced on the inside of Hanai's thighs, sending shivers up the captain's spine, and he let them wander higher and higher until they brushed Hanai's thick cock, and gripped it almost instinctively. His hand ran up and down the shaft, occasionally rubbing over the tip to spread pre-come or cupping and rolling the heavy ball sac beneath. Hanai closed his eyes, enjoying the sensations and letting Tajima take his time and explore.

Tajima continued to lick along Hanai's back for another moment before he tilted his captive's face up. Hanai looked up at the familiar, yet strangely beautiful creature above him, and let his mate catch him in another long kiss. His partner's tongue continued probing his mouth, circling his tongue, softly plucking at his lips, and then changing to forceful, urgent, needing kisses.

Eyes tight shut, Hanai felt the other boy's finger on his sphincter and another hand spreading his rear cheeks. No word was needed to make Hanai bend at an angle to ease his seducer's entrance. Then, without guidance, the head of Tajima's cock plunged into the hot crevice he had chosen to reenter. With one push, he was inside; Hanai's already parted globes spread further to admit Tajima's engorged member.

The captain could focus on nothing but the deliberate teasing rhythm of shallow-deep-shallow of the other boy's hard manhood spreading him open and taking him by inches until it eventually penetrated him deeply. The spiky-haired boy rolled his hips tenderly until he was buried to the hilt inside his partner.

Surging forward, Tajima drove into Hanai again and again. His sac slapped his captive hard as he rocked. A loud sloppy noise punctured the air every time their flesh met. He kept plunging past Hanai's supple anal ring, semen trickling continuously from his partner's erection as it trembled at his invasion.

"I've made you so wet and slippery inside … it feels fantastic being in you."

Hanai stiffened at once, thoroughly embarrassed, as he visualized the other boy's secretions in his most private channel, easing the movement of the intruding flesh. "Idiot! How can you say such a shameless thing—ah—out loud?!"

"But you love it when I just keep shoving it in you without taking it out, don't you? Look, this part of you leaks from it." With that, Tajima applied the lightest brush along the length of Hanai's erect flesh, just enough to tease him. His finishing touch, a twiddle on the twin balls underneath it earned him more profanity from Hanai.

"Tajima, you bast—" Hanai couldn't even finish his curse, for Tajima chose that very moment to shut him up with the most seductive method of persuasion.

"Mpfh! Stop kissing me, you ass—"

"That's enough! I told you I didn't—ah!"

Tajima spread Hanai's legs further and drove in deeper, cultivating their lust until it bloomed loud and feverish, echoing almost without shame in his ears. Tajima continued his assault, his erection making quiet sucking sounds as it entered and left his captive; his sheer force pushed the taller boy's hips into a gap between the bars and he quickly apologized the moment he heard the fleshy thwack of the other boy' genitals smacking against the iron. Hanai's absolution came in grunts and gasps; the captain had long lost track of all thoughts save how fantastic it felt when Tajima filled him again and again and again.

Hanai's whimpers rose in an erotic crescendo of passion, and with every groan, he made his partner more erect and less sated. He was probably destined to feel nothing but pain on his backside by the time the morning's reveille came round in a few hours' time. And yet, right now, nothing mattered anymore, except Tajima's cock and groping and passion. Although he could not see it, he knew Tajima was staring non-stop at him and listening intently to his every moan.

"Wow, Hanai, this is awesome! Your body … it feels like an extension of mine."

The captor pressed his lips against his captive's nape, heightening his pleasure. His hands touched Hanai all over, gently pressing his fingers along the spots that made Hanai quiver. When his licentious fingers fondled the mounds of the captain's rear, Tajima was rewarded in kind with gasps and tremors. Slowly, tenderly, Tajima pushed deeper and deeper into his partner's no longer unwilling orifice. With each thrust, Hanai's hips were thrusting back, receiving his partner's heated flesh as deeply as his channel allowed.

Gripping onto the iron bars as Tajima held his hips, Hanai moaned his wordless demands of more, more, more. Now, with Tajima's cock buried so deep inside him, Hanai surveyed his situation with an analytic eye for the first time and became aware of much that he had hitherto failed to observe or realize. There was a slow, but building heat from where their bodies joined. He mentally cursed himself for how greedy, how needy his body was, even in defeat. A medley of queer impressions thronged upon him, some of which could not have arrived through the avenues of the known senses.

As much as his pride hated it, Hanai's body yearned for Tajima's. The captain moved faster, thrusting his hips erratically, gasping for breath. As he did so, he unintentionally urged his partner to move along with him.

Tajima responded with fervor as his hips became a blur of motion. He lurched forward over Hanai, who drew his legs wider in wordless permission for his action. Hanai let out continuous moans as Tajima's hips kept pushing harder, harder, harder, and their tempo built with every passing moment.

Tajima's climax, while expected, caught Hanai by surprise. This one was louder and more powerful than its predecessor. The shorter boy's body bucked hard against his mate, fingers digging painfully into the soft flesh at the captain's hips. Again, Tajima came deep inside his best friend, flooding the quivering channel with his essence until large globules of sperm ran down the fissure of the taller boy's rear and splattered against his thighs.

Hanai shuddered from the overwhelming feeling of the swell of Tajima's member as his roommate started shooting into his innermost recesses. He closed his eyes, relishing the sensation of the warm fluid pumping out so deep within.

Before Tajima knew it, he felt Hanai's ass spasming, its muscles grabbing on to his prick and squeezing tight. Hanai had also reached his own climax, dragging out the orgasm as he gasped for breath underneath his lover's body.

Still struggling to catch his breath, Tajima proposed, "Hanai, spend your future with me?"

Hanai gulped; Tajima's face was too close. Much too close. A pair of glassy eyes gleamed at him with both passion and care—the gaze that was as unwavering as the steel gun with which the freckled boy had slain many lives.

As their panting decelerated somewhat, Tajima brushed Hanai's face tenderly, his fingertips skating around his eye and along his cheekbone. Trailing his hand along the taller boy's jawline, Tajima tilted Hanai's head to a kissable angle. When the distance between their two faces closed, Hanai groaned against Tajima's mouth, moaning deeper still. It was one of those things that made him lightheaded.

Tajima parted Hanai's lips with an alluring lick and then his tongue slipped inside. The kiss deepened and Hanai was mindlessly thrusting his tongue back into the demanding slickness as Tajima invaded his mouth with the most delicious jabs he had ever experienced. Part of him wanted their tongue duel to last forever as they touched each other towards oblivion.

Even after the breaking of the kiss, they lingered close, their lips damp and their breath shaking. Hanai let himself be encased in his lover's arms, purging his mind of the feelings he could not explain, until all he felt was the beating of two hearts against the soundless, immovable darkness.

'Will we ever make it out alive from this living hell? That much I don't know, but … one thing I'm sure of is that I don't want a future without you, Tajima.'

OWARI

OMAKE

At breakfast, Nishihiro asked, "Hanai, why don't you sit down? There are enough chairs for all of us."

"I feel like standing today," the captain answered stiffly and gripped his bowl more firmly than necessary; it wasn't like he could show his pain-split ass to the whole team.

Nishihiro dropped the subject with a shrug.

It had been pure luck that Hanai and Tajima had managed to stumble upon the fire escape at the small hours of morning. The wall-mounted ladder, as a matter of fact, was located not far from the cell where Tajima had performed the art of seduction on Hanai, and the circular lid above the ladder opened to the shed on the backyard.

Mizutani said, "I think this house is haunted, maybe by the soldiers who died before us."

"What makes you think so?" Oki set down his chopsticks on the rice bowl and gazed at Mizutani with growing interest.

"I heard lots and lots of groaning from under the floor."

Sakaeguchi, who was Mizutani's roommate, nodded and confirmed, "Yeah, I heard that, too."

A knowing smirk graced Tajima's lips before he hastily proceeded to gulp his orange juice, but Hanai choked on his drink.

THE END

There's no one of the Oofuri characters that I hate and it pains my heart to kill them … but the plot demands it. T_T