AN: I wanted this thing to only be a simple oneshot, about 15,000 words or so. But it turns out that, at 15,000 words, I'm only about half way through or something close to that, and at first I thought I'd continue to keep it as a oneshot, regardless of whether it turns out to be 25,000 or 30,000+ words, but since this fandom doesn't really have many other oneshots that long, I decided to split it.
The second part isn't finished, but for now read this.
Warnings: Argh, I don't like warnings—makes me feel like I have to spoil shit here. So just keep in mind that the mood somewhat dark; it's not cheery and contains some unhappiness. I might have douched the characters up a notch (especially Miyagi). Okay fine, here are some real warnings: swearing (lots of it), prostitution, drug use, violence, and sexual situations (not really lemons, but whatever). And probably OOC.
Fucking weirdos. They were everywhere, absolutely scattered about and infesting the streets like a fucking plague. So persistent in spreading their mental, fucked up brains and ways around—they had simply no regard for normal people who wanted to stay normal. No—they publicly flaunted around their stupidity, as though it was a game. And maybe it was for them. Something like, hey, let's try and piss off as many sane people as possible—winner wins the pleasure of knowing they're the most fucked-up psycho of the city!
Fucking weirdos.
And who specifically were these people? Perhaps it referred to the slobbering drunkard staggering out of the bar to vomit his guts out and collapse right into the splatter of regurgitated shame and hopelessness. Or the psychotic hag standing over the bastard, flaunting her almost completely exposed tits, while trying to sell her two-yen body to married men.
Was there any hope for humanity?
Miyagi crushed his eighth cigarette under his shoe after he'd finished inhaling all the toxins and chemicals into his system. He fucking finished the damn things for once in this shady, piece of shit city. He only ever finished his death sticks under the most severe circumstances. And clearly, this part of the city severely sucked.
The man wasn't normally like this, so frustrated, derogatory, and pessimistic. But he was not used to the decor of places like this, being near countless amounts of people who didn't give a damn about themselves or the world around them. It was getting to him, really testing his deteriorating patience.
Sticking his hand into his pocket, Miyagi made the attempt to ignore the hygiene-deprived homeless man hobbling along past him to fork out another drug roll. He was leaning against a streetlight, gazing frustratedly at a city map in front of him. Yeah, he got a bit lost; who the fuck cared.
His girlfriend give him shitty directions to meet her at some place. He'd probably dump her soon, politely and rationally of course, because after a few dates with the gal, Miyagi was thinking that they probably weren't the best for one another.
When the man fished out a nearly empty carton of cigarettes, he cursed audibly when he accidently pulled out a 5,000 yen bill that slipped onto the sidewalk. The slight breeze caused it to flutter away gently, fortunately only a few feet away from the annoyed man.
Unfortunately, before Miyagi had the chance to snatch his money bill back, a small, slender hand swiftly beat him to it.
He inwardly groaned, wanting badly to snap disdainfully at whichever fucktard chose to grab his shit away from him. The only thing that prevented him from doing so was the fact that he'd falsely put off the same dumbass demeanour as the rest of the many douche bags around this place.
"Hey," Miyagi almost sneered aggressively, glowering into a pair of very large, grey eyes."May I have that back?" he asked, putting his hand out. He had to put at least a small attempt at sounding polite... but that didn't prevent him from not saying please. He just wanted to light up and get the hell out of there and maybe meet up with a girlfriend that would most likely become an ex soon enough.
A teenage boy stood before him, stoic, expressionless, hardly dressed enough to be considered decent, and was holding Miyagi's yen between two skinny fingers. He waved the bill slightly before the man, tauntingly, almost teasingly, still regarding Miyagi without the slightest trace of emotion on his pretty face. Slowly, the boy's plush lips parted and he spoke with a voice that reflected the script of his face—unreadable.
"This yours?" he asked simply. He paused for a moment before adding, "Mister?" vocals dipping a tad deeper.
"Yes," Miyagi grumbled impatiently.
The kid was shorter than the elder, probably no older than sixteen. Soft-looking blond hair covered his head while worn, teared clothing covered his thin body. His arms and shoulders were entirely bare, having nothing more than a simple, white tank to cloth his torso, while very short and too tight shorts hugged his hips and crotch. The boy didn't appear like a cross-dresser, but the shorts might have been intended for girls to wear. The blond simply looked poor. And, with his shoulders, thighs, and part of his pale chest exposed, skanky. Miyagi wouldn't have been surprised if the kid ended up spending his life selling his body out to dirty drug users in order to survive.
Miyagi almost hated the way this place had him internally thinking like a negative jerk. But this end of the city had him constantly provoked to assume irrational shit about other people's lives. Jacktard-like? Yes. Made his situations better? Not really. But he did it anyway; he just made sure to keep it to himself, mostly.
"Well?" Miyagi asked irritably, waiting for the damn boy to place the friggin' cash back into his rightful possession. But no, the possibly brain-dead teenager casually stood there with a boney hip pointed out. He licked his already moist-appearing lips, grey eyes drilling him. Trying to pierce through his skull.
"Yeah, I heard you," the kid said, dragging his wet tongue slowly over the expanse of his bottom lip a second time, pointlessly.
Miyagi furthermore narrowed his dark eyes, wanting to snap at the kid to hurry the fuck up, but simply hitched a brow to hint his annoyance. He was waiting for the boy to hand it to him; why he didn't just grab it back, Miyagi wasn't sure. Maybe it was the blond's fragile appearance. Or that, for whatever reason, the kid gave off a vibe that it'd be a bad idea to get close to him.
Then, Miyagi watched as he felt his furrowed brow twitch, the brat moved his hand and stuck his damn bill underneath the waistline of his fucking shorts. He could see a tiny fold of it stick out a bit to tease and aggravate Miyagi even more so, right above the boy's crotch. He older man's deathly narrowed eyes traveled back up to the face of the blond, to find the same nonchalant demeanour, as though this kind if thing was practised daily. Piss off men by stuffing money down his crotch. Gee, what a hobby.
As Miyagi glared his suspicion at the kid, a blond brow soon rose questioningly at the elder. "You expect me to give this back?" the little shit asked. And really, what kind of question was that? Why the hell else would anyone be wasting their time with a street rat who was threatening to grab unrighteous possession of their money.
"Yes." It almost came out as a sigh. "I think that would be fair. It isn't your money, kid."
The boy hummed as though contemplating this. And it was just so tempting to simply snatch the money out of his waistband and leave. Only it was so close to another male's junk. And getting close to something like that was a disturbing thought.
"I don't have all day."
"In that case..." There was a sudden smugness about the way he looked at the older man. "Why don't you just take it? I won't stop you. Thought I'd just take the money for myself and get myself some food, but if you need it so badly..." He placed a hand on his narrow hip and waited.
God, a minor just insinuated Miyagi to do something bordering the lines of sexual, didn't he. Jail bait, fucking jail bait.
"Listen, brat, stop trying to play pointless games. Just hand it back so we can both get on with our day." There was just no way Miyagi was going to get close to this kid.
The boy bit his bottom lip and a small scowl crossed his face. What, did the kid not usually get rejected? Not everybody was a homo. Or lusted after under-aged cocky sons of bitches.
But the frown soon faded and the face was back to seeming illegible again. "Okay. Not a frontal person. Maybe you like the back..."
Miyagi deadpanned when the blond swiftly whipped the cash back into his hand and slipped it into the back of his shorts, over one ass cheek. Fucking hell, how did Miyagi even get into this situation? Who even knew if the boy had underwear on... fuck.
"Come on," the street rat beckoned. "Don't you want it?"
That little inquiry was most possibly suggesting more than one thing. But Miyagi got himself to ignore it.
And again, the boy ran his tongue over his lips—only this time, Miyagi noted the lust behind that motion.
But Miyagi didn't say anything and he was no longer holding his hand out for his yen. He was stiff but still frowning sternly. But he didn't want to make any motions—who knew if he'd accidentally do something that might encourage the little shit. The situation was already very, very dangerous enough as it was; Miyagi didn't need some underage kid to encourage him to preform gay moves.
There was no fucking way in hell Miyagi was going to stick his hand down the backside of another male's shorts. Not even for his 5,000 yen.
So instead, he left himself to stand there and watch the grey-eyed blond scowl and shrug his boney shoulders.
"I see. So you're letting me take the money."
Miyagi didn't say anything.
"Alright." He boy placed a hand on Miyagi's shoulder as though they were friends. And no, they weren't fucking friends. Miyagi would rather drink from a toilet. They stared at one another's eyes as the kid said, "Bye, mister." The expression was stoic but Miyagi could hear the accomplished smirk underneath his tone.
And just like that, the kid turned around and began to walk away. With Miyagi's money. Well, apparently it wasn't his money anymore, but it was supposed to be.
So yeah, Miyagi couldn't help but train his eyes over the kid's ass as the brat retreated, not because he liked the kid's ass, hell no, but he knew that his dough was underneath the fabric. And it majorly sucked that he pretty much let that kid have his way and take the cash.
Actually, no—if the kid had his way, Miyagi would've had to pretty much grope the under-aged piece of ass. He pretty much just paid to be able to keep his pride just now, or something like that.
He kept glaring and staring at the blond's back until the boy finally entered some shady little fast food shop. And with a repressed sneer, he elder reminded himself that he still needed a smoke. Even more so now that originally.
Fucking weird people.
It had been three years since Miyagi stepped foot in this damn area. Three whole years, and truthfully, the man never even really wanted to return in the first place. But of course, no one got what they wanted and all that wise stuff. One of life's little rules that the occupants on the earth had to accept and deal with.
But really, Miyagi had no choice but to come back—he was transferred to another institution to work at, which was close by here. An amazing, elite, well-respected university was located basically in the heart of an otherwise filth-ridden mega dump of a city. Oh, ironic.
The man had already gotten himself quite a nice apartment in the not-so shitty side of town. It was pretty large for one person but also cosy at the same time. Pricey, but the raise that came with his transfer made up for that.
So far, Miyagi had been living here for about a week and had pretty much settled in. Kind of. Truth be told, the man basically caged himself up in his apartment and dutifully busied himself in unpacking, organizing, straightening out, and other miscellaneous things to procrastinate. He didn't want to come out and wander the streets of druggies and hookers and other pieces of living failures. Miyagi's apartment was up and running but he was direly avoiding to face the streets and getting accustomed to the various forms of ridiculous lifestyles inhabiting there. If he even could get accustomed to it.
Though right now, the man had virtually nothing to do. Work didn't start for another week or so and he could do more preparation for it, but at the same time, he didn't like being overly prepared. Plus he had a nagging feeling in the back of his brain that was scolding him to hurry up and go outside, get used to the ruggedness, and suck it up. And Miyagi also didn't like procrastination much either, even though this didn't have much to do with his occupation.
And as he spent a good portion of his time trying to think of something to do to not go outside, he hadn't realized how many cigarettes he had been puffin' on. He ran out. A groan ripped from his throat as he came to terms with this.
Because now he needed to buy more, which, of course, meant he had to go out to a shop.
He ended up walking over to a convenience store and bought five packages.
And if he had to take a wild guess, he'd say it'd last him one day. Tops.
After getting a hold if his cancer providers, he exited the store and wandered down a narrow alleyway between two stores, which lead him to a seemingly deserted yet dirty little area behind the shops. It was small, dark, dingy, and had a couple if dumpers just sittin' there in all its filthy glory, but it was away from the freaks and a spot to indulge in cancerous sticks.
Or so he so ignorantly thought before he heard a throaty noise to his left and saw he wasn't alone.
Because up against a wall, were two men with their pants partly down their legs. Banging it up for all they were worth.
The smaller guy was facing the wall, his forearms pressed high on it, his back curving delicately as his ass was pounded relentlessly, legs parted ever so. The other guy was bigger, definitely older, and was grunting madly as he held onto the small hips in front of him as he thrust frantically, probably greedily.
The blond in front was less throaty and breathy, clenching his eyes shut breath occasionally hitching. It was actually hard to tell if the guy was even enjoying what was going on to his backside; he could've been getting raped for all Miyagi knew.
But he freakiest thing of all wasn't entirely the raw display that was going on right before his very eyes. No, it was the fact that Miyagi wasn't even doing anything... but staring. Mostly at the smaller man, although, actually looking at his face, he couldn't have been a man just yet. He was probably in his odd years of being something between a boy and a man. Maybe nineteen or twenty.
And whoa. While he stupidly just stood there and gaped like a homosexual that he wasn't, the younger guy against the wall must've had a sixth sense or something crazy like that, because now the kid was looking back at Miyagi.
And the professor could've sworn that there was a tinge of surprise in those grey eyes of his, but it only lasted a split second. It was probably just his imagination actually, since it was difficult to spot much of anything behind those glassy, half-lid eyes, but lust. Hungry, burning, sex-starved lust. The blond's pink lips parted with a heavy breath, tongue darting out to wet his lips.
Okay, so this probably wasn't rape. And thank God for that, because if it had been, Miyagi would've been nearly as guilty as the offender for not doing anything to stop it. Not even having the decency to even have the thought cross his mind.
And even now that one of the participants noticed his unwelcomed visit, the man still wasn't budging. Perhaps it was some sort of shock that was paralysing his body. Really, it wasn't everyday he'd find two males screwing in such a dirty setting.
Miyagi and the blond's eyes remained drilling into the other's while the other guy stayed completely oblivious to Miyagi's presence, blissfully focusing solely on what euphoric sensations the younger man's ass was sending him.
As seconds passed, the professor began to notice the blond starting to pant a bit, beginning to sensually move his body in rhythm with the other male's movements. His vision bore solely on Miyagi as he moaned so silently it was almost non-existent. But as more seconds went by, the sweet sounds of pleasure continued and got slightly louder as well.
Miyagi's eyes enlarged as he saw one of the kid's thin arms part from the wall and down the his privates—he began playing with it. More pleasure was being sent through the teen's body, and he didn't even make an attempt hiding it.
"Ah, fuck, that's good. Harder," he gasped, giving himself a fluid pump, as his sweaty body jolted. "Mmm, ah, fuck yes..."
During the entire duration thus far, the heated boy was looking at Miyagi, only stopping to blink, but even that was a bare minimum. And Miyagi didn't know what kept him to stay there for so long.
But the older man, older than Miyagi himself, finally had released into the young body with a pathetically desperate groan and squeeze of the kid's hips. Soon after, the body also brought his own vocal climax along, but much more sweet-sounding than the other guy.
Not that Miyagi stayed long enough to witness the whole orgasm. He darted back out the way he came from and when he reached the sidewalks again, he slowed to a fast-paced walk all the way back to his apartment.
He was hard.
It was Miyagi's day off work and he thought he'd take a walk, which resulted in him stopping by a park and leaning against a tree to suck on a cigarette.
Life was good so far, or at least as good as he could bring it to be in this neighbourhood, which he still wasn't warming up to. He had began working at the institution a week ago, meaning he'd been living here for just over two weeks thus far. Overall, it was a pretty decent life; he loved his job and apartment, which he supposed made up for everything else that was lacking. Namely the people out on the streets.
He was still determined to get used to it. It was probably possible.
Shutting his eyes and exhaling a thick cloud of smoke into the calm atmosphere, Miyagi gaped when his cigarette was suddenly plucked from his fingers. He hadn't even heard anybody approaching him, and when he glanced beside him, he was alarmed to see a young blond boy taking a nonchalant drag from his drug.
Oh god fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck. Shit.
Miyagi immediately recognized the boy as the one he saw fucking in the back alley behind the stores about a week ago. Damn it all. It was the kid who'd somehow aroused the professor. And he had to take a cold shower like some teenage boy who still had to deal with raging hormones.
Miyagi didn't say anything just yet—he simply gawked as his thoughts processed. When the cigarette-stealing boy noted the older man staring, he turned to face the guy and blew a trail of smoke and chemicals into his face.
Alright, that was certainly uncalled for, even though the raven-haired man didn't flinch or react other than frowning. Today's youth really hadn't a damn clue about respect. Or maybe that was just another one of this city's dashing quirks.
"Hey," the boy greeted. "Mind sharing the cigarette? I'm a bit short on them."
In response, Miyagi emitted an agitated sigh and fished his pocket to light up another one. "Keep it."
"Alright."
Soon Miyagi was starting his new death stick and the two of them smoked in silence. Awkward silence, but silence no less. Or at least, Miyagi felt slightly uncomfortable smoking alone with this unknown gay kid. The blond displayed no signs of discomfort visible on his face whenever Miyagi briefly glanced over at him.
It continued on for a bit, until the blond finished his cig and crushed it under his worn, dirty shoes. Sandals. They were sandals.
"I thought you were straight," the kid said in his smooth voice.
Miyagi coughed a hazy mess of fumes and again gawked at the blond, who simply looked back at him full on. The man blinked and crushed his own half-used cig on the ground. He asked in a calm demeanour, "What?"
"But you stayed and watched," the boy continued, ignoring Miyagi's question. He licked his lips. "Did you enjoy the show?"
The man blanked at first then immediately wanted to deny it, but when he thought back to the state his dick was in after witnessing the activity, or show,as the kid put it, words got tied up in Miyagi's mouth and he responded with nothing.
The blond's lips pressed together in contemplation. Then he said, "I didn't expect to see you again."
Miyagi lazily turned his head to gaze out at the bunch of trees in front of him, not particularly interested in conversing with this person.
"Last time, I didn't see you at all afterwards. But now I'm glad to have caught you here."
Honesty, Miyagi wasn't sure what the blond was talking about. "Kid, don't you have something to do?"
"Yes," the boy replied instantly. "I could be out at the clubs right now, fucking some random, drunk old guy and cleaning out his wallet. Either by him remembering to pay me or stealing it with extra if he doesn't."
God, a prostitute. A male one no less.
"Alright, so why don't you go do that."
"Sure. Later."
Miyagi glared at the boy, who was still sporting no visible emotions in his face.
The grey eyes stared him back as he asked, "What's your name?"
The man hesitated, but decided a prostitute couldn't do much with his name. "Miyagi."
"I'm Shinobu."
"Charmed." Miyagi shut his eyes in an attempt to relax, hands shoved into the pockets of his sweater.
"Hard day?" the prostitute kid, or Shinobu, if that was even his real name, asked as if it were any if his business.
"Busy last couple weeks," Miyagi grumbled in response.
The boy hmm'd and Miyagi sensed those large grey eyes still trained on him. "I can help you relax," Shinobu suggested, after breathing out a long trail of smoke.
Heh. Yeah right.
"Would you like to—"
"I don't think so," the professor interrupted. "I don't deal with prostitutes. Especially male ones."
After stomping out his cigarette on the ground, Shinobu stepped in front of the older man. Miyagi opened his dark eyes narrowly as the smaller individual dragged his fingertips over the fabric of his sleeve, just barely applying enough pressure to feel it. "You say that as if you were straight." There was a hint of amusement in his words but blatant indifference written on his attractive face.
"Hate to break it to you," Miyagi muttered, "but I am straight. Straighter than anyone I've ever met." He himself wasn't even certain how true those words were, but he wanted to believe them and said them regardless.
Again, Shinobu licked his pink lips, irritatingly slowly. And Miyagi couldn't look anywhere but those lips and that tongue. "The way you stared at me... while you watched of me fucking... said otherwise."
Finally, the older man swiped the blond's small hand away from his arm. He glowered at the frustrating young man and said, "Brat, I think you'd better go do something else elsewhere. I'm in no mood to talk to anybody."
"You in the mood to fuck?"
Miyagi's eyes visibly widened at the suggestion, though he didn't know why since he should've seen it coming. He responded with a firm, in-his-face "No."
Of course, not that the little street rat paid any mind to that. A hand rested over Miyagi's chest gently. "I can make you feel good. I can put you at ease, make you forget anything that may be troubling you."
"The person who's troubling me wants to make me forget my troubles? How ironic," he muttered darkly.
But Shinobu was clearly unfazed ad his pressed his small, skinny body right up against the older professor's. "I'll let you do anything you want with me." His eyes were intense, burning narrowly into the others. "I'll let you fuck me, practice all your little kinks on my body. Toys, S&M, role play, dry, publicly... or if you just want a simple round of face-fucking, I'm all for that too. I've done it all before."
Miyagi's eyes were literally bugged as this dirty kid pressed his small hips up against his own. His breath was held and his shoulders were rock tense, staring down at Shinobu.
"I want you," Shinobu admitted bluntly, rubbing Miyagi's chest sensually with his gentle hands. "I want to please you, to satisfy you. You may think you're straight, but I don't give a shit. A fuck's a fuck... remember that."
The professor swallowed his spit and licked his dry lips. Shinobu watched attentively, breathing deep but steadily for a moment, soon after reaching up and dragging a thumb over Miyagi's chapped lip. Fuck this kid.
Shinobu didn't shut up. "It doesn't matter who it is you're fucking, as long as it'll lead to orgasm." A breathy exhale. "I bet you're amazing—you'll probably drive me crazy, have me wrapped all around you...taking you in, panting your name."
The professor's heart froze when the heated blond clutched onto him tighter, leaning up to his ear. Miyagi could feel the venomous breath touch his neck, almost making the man shiver.
"Ah... ahh... Miyagi...!"
The professor roughly shoved Shinobu off of him to regain his demeanour and, curse all Gods, his breaths came out noticeably shaky and hardly composed. His fierce glare was aimed at the boy in front of him, but it was mostly a self-loathing grimace for allowing his body to act up yet a second time when encountering this brat.
Shinobu watched him, always the observant one, and slicked his lips with his tongue. "I won't charge you anything. I want you," he repeated bluntly. "I'll let you do anything to me... just for you, Miyagi."
Miyagi began to straighten out his clothes in order to occupy his hands with something. He let out a breath that he'd been holding, glaring anywhere that this Shinobu kid wasn't. "I'm not interested in whatever you have to offer me," he said a bit quieter than he'd intended it.
Shinobu was silent, whatever going through his mind a mystery, and shrugged thin shoulders. "If that's what you think, I'll be patient," he said. "You can always come find me though... I'll be around. Unless I'm fucking at a motel or at someone's place."
Miyagi said nothing, waiting patiently for the blond to leave so he could enjoy another cigarette alone, in solitude and peace.
The boy sighed and turned to glance elsewhere, running a hand through his hair. "Winter's coming soon..." he mumbled more to himself than anything else. Miyagi couldn't help but notice the look of distaste that crossed Shinobu's youthful face.
Unable to hold back his twitching fingers any longer, Miyagi shoved his hand into his pants pocket and grabbed a package of smokes. Before he plucked one out, another hand beat him to it and swiped a cig for himself.
Shinobu smugly placed it between his lips and mumbled around it, "Can I have another light, Miyagi?"
Sending an annoyed dirty look, Miyagi responded, "Would you go on your way?"
"Sure," Shinobu said, "unless you want me to stay."
"Tch." The professor swiftly lit the boy's smoke and motioned for the little nuisance to piss off.
The blond offered a small parting wave. "Later," he said as he finally walked away from the older man.
Miyagi's eyes never left the teen's back until he was completely out of sight. And when he noticed that, he cursed into the air and roughly dug the carton for a cigarette for himself.
More profanity escaped his lips—Shinobu took the last smoke.
The day went on and the professor spent it leisurely, walking around and smoking (after going home to retrieve a new package), to further familiarize himself with the area. But as the skies grew darker, areas more deserted, Miyagi then began to walk in the direction of a bar. He drank enough to be kind of tipsy and pretty hazy, but not enough to be completely shit-faced, in order to be able to walk back to his apartment without hailing a cab.
He was walking through the streets, where many shops were stationed, smoke dangling contentedly between his lips, hand reaching out to use a wall or pole for support when needed. Miyagi was staring straight ahead, vision kind of fuzzy, when he saw two bodies stumble into view from a side alleyway between two stores, mouths fervently interlocked, tongues twisting in wet laps.
The professor went stiff, eyes enlarging, and a overwhelming urge to run decked him. Even in his drunk stupor, he was able to tell who one of the people was. He hadn't been anticipating to see the blond teenager again, who had an uncharacteristic smirk pulling at his lips as he parted away from the other man. His eyes were glazed fucking over and darker, even redder than Miyagi's. It was dark, being nearly midnight, but there were plenty of streetlights around to have a clear view of the kid.
He hadn't even realized that he'd frozen in his steps and was, once again, staring at Shinobu. The boy's hands were placed on the other guy's chest, like a maiden in a terrible romance movie, only looking awfully unfocused and unguarded, pretty vulnerable. He closed his eyes and leaned up to give the man's lips a slow lick, before the man guffawed, slapped Shinobu's ass, and left the boy in whatever state he was currently in.
This was the last thing the professor needed. He was a little drunk, and did not want the kid to use that state to his advantage. He had already been harassed by the blond earlier that day and the man had hoped that would have been the end of their little unwanted encounters.
But of course not. Karma, fate, or whatever wicked, fucked up curse was working against the man, forcing him to come across this strange individual once again.
Miyagi just hoped that maybe Shinobu would choose to spare him any shit. He looked pretty out of it himself actually, seeing his eyes droop in the way they did. Maybe the boy wounldn't notice the older man's presence and walk right on past on his merry way...
But shit, Shinobu turned his pretty blond head and spotted the older professor. Of course.
Something out there was fucking around with the Miyagi—he just knew it.
His body tensed harder than unlubricated anal sex, stuck in his immobile stare, waiting for the kid to come up to him and do something.
Shinobu regarded Miyagi in a way that made the professor feel uneasy. It was like the boy was looking at him, but not entirely seeinghim. And with those metal eyes of his, the man wasn't sure if he should be feeling a bit... concerned about the blond.
Heh. Concerned over a gay prostitute. Right now, Miyagi should have been more concerned about himself.
Soon, Shinobu's body turned toward the alleyway he'd just come out of with the other man who'd left (Miyagi didn't want to imagine what they'd been doing). But the grey, red-rimmed eyes never left Miyagi as he went back, disappearing in the unlit darkness, out of the man's field of vision.
And Miyagi followed.
He didn't know what had even possessed him to do so—didn't think why, he just stepped forward and did. It was probably the booze's doing, but it was mind-fucking, at least to Miyagi. Following a male prostitute into some hidden-away alley, the same weird brat who he'd seen being fucked and had earlier this very day tried to seduce him... it made no sense. If Miyagi wasn't gay, and wasn't horny out of his mind, then he must have been insane.
But Miyagi didn't like the thought of being insane. He was probably just more intoxicated than he'd originally thought. So, as he walked through the alley behind the blond, Miyagi settled that he was simply checking to see if the boy was alright. He was worried about his fellow citizens. Yeah, he'd go with that.
Shinobu stopped walking once they'd reached the back and went off to the side a bit. Miyagi glanced around, and after taking in the foul odour of garbage and other shit, he knew that this place was awfully familiar, even though it was much too dark to really see a whole lot. But it was definitely the same alley where he'd witnessed Shinobu getting fucked. Oh dear God, Miyagi'd been lured into Shinobu's... place, or whatever this was.
He hadn't even realized Shinobu had turned and was facing him until he felt the boy claw at his upper arms.
"Why're you here?"
His eyes had somewhat adjusted to the dark which allowed him to see the teen's frame and a bit of his face.
Shinobu continued to speak, "I didn't ask you to come."
The kid's breath was also felt against Miyagi's neck. It felt warm.
"But you followed me anyway. Did you want to ask me something?"
And surprisingly, over the gunky smells wafting all around them, the professor was even able to smell the boy. He had a strong smell. Very distinct. And Miyagi was able to recognize what it was.
"Or maybe you just want to thrust your dick into me that badly."
Shinobu reeked of pot.
An uncharacteristic giggle from the normally stoic boy confirmed the scent. Not that Miyagi really needed any additional convincing—with the smell of weed this strong, Miyagi could only imagine him being higher the fucking moon above them. And all the stars twinkling around it.
"Hey..." Miyagi said with a minor slur, placing a hand on Shinobu's shoulder. Fuck, this guy was thin."Are... are you alrigh'?" Hell, he didn't know what to do around druggies.
And then he realized that, not only was he dealing with a fucking whore, but a nasty drug user as well. Perhaps he also liked to drink alcohol like a whale or carried more STDs than Miyagi could even name.
None of it would even surprise the professor. He knew about the sort of crazy, strange, fucked up lives people lived when they were making dumb decisions to mess themselves up.
And looking down at the stoned teenager who was grinning a grin that didn't suit his face at all, Miyagi wanted to shove him off into the pile of hard-looking garbage bags behind the boy and leave him to rot. Then all the rats and vultures of Japan would come and rip apart his flesh and organs. And Miyagi wouldn't care. No one would.
Because Shinobu was at the scummiest level of the human spectrum, the impetus of shame and all breathing insignificance.
Groaning, Miyagi swayed a little, but set himself upright again with his hand being placed on Shinobu's shoulder.
"Miyagi," Shinobu breathed, clear but silently, leaning his head against Miyagi's chest as if it were the most natural thing for him. The professor tensed significantly, holding in a breath and retrieved his hand again to ensure both arms were at his sides, despite the reflex that wanted to wrap his arms around the smaller form.
Human nature? It could have just been habit. He'd always hold a woman who'd cling to him, whether or not he held feelings for them. But he didn't want to hold this boy. He was a boy.
Shinobu sighed contentedly through his nose and he looked in bliss hugging Miyagi like that.
"You know..." Shinobu nuzzled him and the older man forced himself to look away from the blond head. "I'm hungry, Miyagi. Really hungry."
The human side of Miyagi wanted to take the kid out to the nearest fast food joint and buy him something fulfilling on the menu, while the cynical, drunken jackass inside the man just felt like telling the blond that it was just too fucking bad.
But he didn't do either of the things. Just swallowed some spit that tasted like dull sake when he felt something press against his neck. He didn't want to think about Shinobu—this little street rat—putting those chaste lips over his skin.
Then Shinobu slowly peeled from the stiff man and pointed his droopy, red eyes at him. "Do you have food?"
He swallowed thickly, staring straight out in front of him with eyes hard, set like stone. "No," he responded dryly.
He heard a pathetic whimper and swallowed again. Shinobu didn't say anything for a moment, until Miyagi heard a small, but almost whiny voice from the boy. "I'm hungry."
He almost rolled his eyes and told the kid that he'd already informed Miyagi of his pot-induced hunger mere seconds ago.
The kid held the man tighter with a strong grip Miyagi hadn't thought stoned people were capable of mustering. But at least it kept the professor standing straight. And then, to the professor's horror the brat emitted another whimper that sounded suspiciously close to a moan, and the boy's body fucking writhed right up against his own, body parts grounding at all the wrong places.
The man's mouth twitched and his heart pounded alongside the rush of adrenaline surfacing at the crashing realization of where this might have potentially been heading.
"Mm..." Shinobu sighed, obviously much more relaxed at the situation than the other man. The pot probably helped. Then the boy moaned out, "Fill me up, Miyagi..."
The professor shamefully picked up on the double meaning of those words instantly, unfortunately having vivid visuals pop up in his mind of a particular panting, sweat-glossed blond kid with grey eyes sprawled out underneath the older man on some dirty motel mattress, groaning whoreish come-ons like 'Give it to me hard,' or 'Come on, Miyagi, I want to feel you explode in my ass.'
And that wasn't good.
"I doon't... have food," Miyagi muttered, silently cursing himself for sounding so damn uncertain. And then he noticed how uneven his breathing had become; this definitely wasn't good.
His eyes widened when the pressure of the other body suddenly left, and he looked down to find that the blond had collapsed on his knees, now eyes the professor's crotch. There was a tent—a blatant tent sporting from underneath the man's pants.
Shinobu licked his lips, not taking his eyes off Miyagi's unwanted arousal. "Even if I can't have real food..." Two hands gripped on either side of the raven's hips. "...I can always settle for swallowing this alternative instead..."
Shinobu's hands remained seated at Miyagi's sides, leaving the boy to lean his head forward and skillfully undo the single button with his mouth. Then the zippered smoothly got pulled undone between the boy's teeth, and Miyagi did stared trans-fixedly at the little whore beginning his magic, having to support himself by grabbing a filthy wall that was luckily right behind him.
Without a doubt, Miyagi did need release at the moment. He knew he could always go home or somewhere private and take care if it himself, but his dick was an impatient one, deeming it useless to pass up a blow job for his right hand.
Clearly, Miyagi was thinking with the wrong head as he did nothing to stop the boy from pulling his pants and boxers down to his thighs.
Shinobu breathed heavily through his mouth with Miyagi's member out to salute and welcome him. "Mmm..."
The man didn't even know how he'd gotten so erect to begin with. If this had been a girl, then it wouldn't be much of a shock to get this reaction, but he'd never thought he'd ever get all hot down there for a guy. And the man wasn't a homophobe either—this was just an insult to his own particular heterosexuality. Plus, a kid... Miyagi almost shuddered.
He did shutter however when sudden warmth overtook his hardness and an expert tongue began to slick him up, lap at him and suck with an overwhelmingly thorough rhythm and pace.
Miyagi hissed and ground his teeth together, legs getting shakier and he had to press his entire back to hold himself up. Narrowed, hazy violet eyes gazed down at the blond head bobbing steadily on his erection.
The stirring and intense pleasure told Miyagi that he wasn't going to last long. He felt himself throbbing already in the boy's mouth—he'd never had an orgasm rush this quickly from receiving head since his early twenties.
But then again, he'd never had anybody being able to suck cock so fucking amazingly before. It must have came with experience; Miyagi was positive this brat had plenty. Or maybe the boy was always like this—a natural at taking it in the mouth. Taking it in the fucking throat—God dammit, if Shinobu kept on deep-throating him like this...
The stoned teen must have known the older man was rapidly nearing his climax, seeing as he slowly slipped Miyagi's hardness out of his mouth—fucking tease—and instead wrapped his hand around it. He then proceeded to pump rather vigorously, unmercifully, like he wanted to force an orgasm out of Miyagi. And all the while Miyagi was struggling with only partial success to keep his aroused, slurred grunts to himself, the blond having his head tilted upwards to look at Miyagi.
Their eyes connected and never left one another, not when Shinobu thumbed his slit, and not when Miyagi's lips parted and groaned, cum spasming out of his dick, or when Shinobu lucidly milked his climax out.
Semen missed Shinobu for the most part, shooting out beside his head, but Miyagi did note some of his substance hit the boy's shoulder, his neck, and a bit in his hair. But Shinobu didn't seem to have cared. The kid couldn't have been any more of a slut if he tried.
Miyagi was panting—he hadn't came so hard in a while. He was glaring down at the kid, who stoically gazed back up, still clearly under effects of weed as his eyes still had that dopey look to them.
The brat had stated he was hungry, that he'd take the... alternative, as the little shit had put it, since Miyagi didn't have any food on him.
Shinobu licked his lips and pushed himself close to Miyagi to the point where their bodies were touching, pressed against each other.
...But Shinobu quite deliberately pulled his member out of his mouth right when it was obvious Miyagi was going to shoot at any moment.
He felt the blond take his hands into his own smaller ones.
...It was like initially the whole purpose of giving Miyagi head was to intake something... even if that something was as sleazy as semen... yet Shinobu didn't swallow anything. He just stared at Miyagi was that unreadable look.
"Mm." Shinobu slowly guided Miyagi's hands to the front of their pants. Then the professor's eyes enlarged when his hands came in contact with Shinobu's unclothed, stone erection. The teen wrapped one of the man's hand around the length, the other a bit lower to his testicles.
Miyagi didn't know what the brat's fucking game was.
Almost as soon as he felt the kid's arousal, he pulled from it and out of his hands' grasp. Miyagi ground his teeth and punched the kid square in the right side of his face.
Shinobu yelped and his unguarded little body fell back and hit some lumpy garbage bags.
The older man looked away, putting his clothing back to cover himself. He staggered towards the exit, ignoring the almost nonexistent whimper from the direction of the thrash bags, casually as though he was simply walking out of a shopping market and was on his way home to catch whatever was on TV.
He knew he wasn't the sort to settle any disputes or conflicts in violence. In actuality, what he'd just done to Shinobu surprised himself. The rugged, freak-infested city, and the alcohol he could still taste at the back of his throat, must have been having more of an impact on the man than he'd thought.
For the entire journey back home, Miyagi forced himself to push back thoughts of the blond out of his head. He didn't want to think about him. He didn't want to think about anything. He especially didn't want to envision a blond head pleasuring very private areas of the man. Moreover, the boy's slightly breathless face staring back up at him, bits of Miyagi's DNA in his hair and neck.
So when he got home, he downed whatever cans of beer he had stocked in the fridge and went straight to bed, hoping that the blond wouldn't be there to torture him in his dreams as well.
Fall had swept by silently and winter had begun. Tonight was supposed to the the first sign of snow, unfortunately in the form of a storm. Not toobig of a storm, but it was expected to bring several inches.
Which was why Miyagi went to the supermarket for some last-minute shopping while it was still clear of snow. He'd procrastinated in buying some winter wear and more blankets due to a stack of essays that needed to be graded. Plus while he had moved to this place, he'd given away some stuff he didn't want to carry, and apparently his warmer blankets had been part of it.
In his basket was some sweaters and other awesome and warm stuff, but he still needed to grab a blanket or two before he could leave.
So he strolled into the relatively empty isle, and looked at a bunch sitting near some blond person who was also there.
They both stood, allowing their eyes to browse over the merchandise in front of them; the blond individual's eyes wandered a bit more towards Miyagi's direction, and before the professor knew it, they each slowly took notice of one another's presence and their eyes connected.
It was shocked violet eyes gawking at indifferent grey ones.
"Hey," Shinobu said.
"Uh," Miyagi uttered, lacking sophistication. "I—er,um—"
The teen watched silently but soon shrugged and returned his attention to the shelves again. Swallowing awkwardly, Miyagi did the same, though he wasn't contemplating the blankets as much as the boy next the him was.
He hadn't seen Shinobu since the night he'd punched the poor guy., and been given that incredible blow job. Throughout the few months that passed, Miyagi was working his mind to pretend the strange kid never even existed. Success was little, but that wasn't the point. He hadn't been expecting to see Shinobu ever again, considering how they hadn't crossed paths even once since their last encounter.
But to bump into one another in a supermarket... Miyagi wasn't aware trashy kids who led a life like Shinobu's even entered places like this. Normal places, that is—places that normal people went to.
Although, as the man silently side-glanced at the blond now, he didn't even appear like a prostitute. Or at least, Shinobu's clothing was entirely different—light, baggy jeans and a snug-looking black sweater. His feet were wearing actual shoes this time, not dirty sandals that looked like they were going to fall apart at the next rough fuck.
Maybe the kid did have some money that could buy him new clothes if he wanted it. Perhaps the usual torn, overly large clothing and sometimes revealing garments were just for show to lure people willing to buy his body.
Eh, whatever. Miyagi didn't give a damn anyway. Shinobu was probably pissed that he had punched him previously. The professor just needed to swiftly grab a suiting blanket and get out of there, hopefully never seeing Shinobu ever again.
"So?" Shinobu yawned. "You got some broad up at your place? Need more covers if you want her to spend the night. After you have sex with her, of course."
Nope, no broad. "I don't see how that's any of your business."
"Ah. A guy." Shinobu nodded. "Understandable. Having a member of the same sex choking himself over your cock is a real turn on, isn't it."
It wasn't even a question, to Miyagi's irritation. But still, no guy at his place either. Miyagi hadn't any desire to hook up with anyone in a while.
"What kind of blanket's good?" the blond wondered aloud.
"What's up with you?" Miyagi asked. "Your clothes now are completely different than what I usually see you in." Alright, so much for not caring. Miyagi was just curious. Curious about the only guy who'd ever sucked his dick before.
Shinobu glanced at the elder nonchalantly then back to the blankets. "Stole these clothes."
Miyagi snorted. He should have figured.
The blond continued, "Had sex with some kid. He couldn't have been any older than me—he was probably eighteen or something. Just some dumbass curious what it was like to fuck another guy."
Geez, was fucking all this kid ever did?
"So I showed him. Even had him screaming near the end—see if he ever comes to a girl to screw ever again after I dealt with him and—"
"Spare me those details," Miyagi sharply interrupted. He got irritated every single time he ever saw this brat.
"He was a jackass though. I fucked him first and asked him to pay me once we were done. But he attempted to be a smart shit and say he must've left his money at home or something like that. It was bull. Once he fell asleep, I found his wallet in his pants and found more than enough yen to pay me with. I put on his clothes and took everything in his wallet. Then left." Shinobu lifted his hand to feel over some of the fabric on a shelf. "He's probably still sleeping right now in that motel room, completely not knowing."
Miyagi said nothing and the blond continued to relish the softness from the cotton material. Moments passed, neither of them saying or doing anything, until Shinobu spoke up.
"I'm using his money to buy myself a blanket," he explained. "I hate winter. Especially when it snows. If I can't have anybody pick me up and let me stay the night... it's really cold out."
The professor eyed the boy hug himself, rubbing his upper arms as though remembering previous winters.
"I'm not always able to find myself someone willing to put me up. People like to stay indoors when it's snowing. And if it's too late at night, most places close up. Bars and clubs stay open... but they always want to ID me before I even step in, which is pretty stupid."
Shinobu was speaking softly, in barely more than a whisper. The professor was merely watching him from the very corner of his eyes, trying not to appear very interested, but he still had to ask, "You don't have a home?"
He slowly responded, "No."
"How old are you?"
"Nineteen."
Miyagi pursed his lips as he considered the situation of the boy. Shinobu really did have it shitty—Miyagi couldn't deny that. And as much as the man hated the thought, he really did feel a bit sympathetic for the brat. He didn't know the teen's entire story—who knew; Shinobu might have deserved this sort of lifestyle—but still, Miyagi was human and humans typicaly held sympathy when hearing of another one's misfortune.
The teenager sighed suddenly, grabbing a dark grey blanket that appeared to be more durable than most on these shelves. "If I don't find anyone to take me home or to a motel to fuck me tonight, I wanted to purchase something that'll give me even a bit of warmth. Otherwise it would be complete and utter freezing hell out there."
Miyagi finally turned his head to the boy and blinked when Shinobu turned away from him.
"I'll see you later, Miyagi. Thanks for listening," he mumbled, holding the blanket underneath one arm.
"Uh, hold on," the man spoke before he'd even realized, just as Shinobu was about to trek off.
The blond stopped at looked at him over a shoulder, quirking one blond eyebrow. "What is it? I want to get out soon before it starts snowing," he muttered.
Miyagi clamped his eyes shut, weaving his fingers through his hair roughly. God, this was so fucking odd. "Look, brat, if you really need it, I'll let you stay at my place tonight."
Grey eyes blinked and he fully faced Miyagi, clearly shocked.
"I mean, just for sleeping," he quickly clarified. "None of that dirty stuff you normally do with your... customers. Just so I know you'll have a roof over your head during the snow storm tonight. If it even starts to snow at all."
Shinobu frowned, nose slightly scrunching in sort of a cute way. You know, if he had been a girl minus the prostitution, he would have been kind of cute. But then the blond had to ask, "Only sleeping?" as though the very thought was some sort of unheard-of prospect only nutcases partook in. Sleeping—how bizarre, right?
"Yes, sleeping," the man repeated. "Put on pyjamas, get under the sheets and blankets, shut your eyes, and drift into undisturbed slumber and dreams," he elaborated. "Only I'll be the one in the bed—you'll take the futon I have in my closet somewhere."
But the kid only continued to stare, one brow raised, as though Miyagi had another head growing out of his neck. Shinobu didn't get it.
"Look," Miyagi said a bit gruffer than intended. He was getting agitated increasingly as the seconds of indecision went on. "You taking my offer or not? 'Cause you can very well say no and I won't mind knowing that I've already done my good deed of inviting you over."
"I'll come with you." God, did Miyagi have to have dirty thoughts with every unintended sexual thing that come from this boy's mouth? "It's just that... you can get much more than simply sleep. And as I told you before, I won't charge you anything."
"Right." Miyagi grabbed a softer blanket from the isle before glancing at the teenager and putting Shinobu's own selected blanket back onto the shelf.
"I still need that blanket," Shinobu protested stoically.
"I have some you can use. You'd best spend your money on other things." He thought for a moment before adding, "If you're good, you can stay the night at my place whenever you need it. Better than lugging around a big blanket like that wherever you go."
Shinobu perked. "Really?"
Miyagi didn't even know what the hell he was saying. But he felt like he needed to do it—he needed to know the strange brat was alright. "Yeah, you can. On the nights you don't get picked up, I mean. But sleep only. And maybe you can have breakfast or something." The professor shrugged and walked off, the slightly surprised blond kid trailing close behind.
He silently proceeded to pay for all his stuff, Shinobu close behind and equally as quiet. Once all that was done and good, they continued into Miyagi's car and began a deathly silent drive to his apartment.
They arrived at Miyagi's place. It was tense, but not as much as the professor thought it would have been. In fact, Shinobu looked right at home from the second he stepped inside. With a single comment regarding the cleanliness of the home, the boy went straight to Miyagi's firm sofa and settled, as though he'd done it a million times before.
They still didn't talk after that aside from small passing comments that couldn't lead up to any kind of conversation. While Miyagi went into the kitchen to see if he had anything warm to help heat him up, Shinobu remained at his seat, remote in hand, scanning through the TV channels with mild interest.
Miyagi considered simply fixing some steaming tea, but thoughts directed to the kid in his living room, and he finally settled for some hot chocolate he found. He figured kids liked hot chocolate in the winter, right? Not that he found it a priority to comply to Shinobu's wants, but it was in the man to make anyone's stay at his place a good one.
After fixing two steaming mugs of chocolatey sweetness, Miyagi remembered the can of whipped cream in his fridge and topped both with a generous amount. He even got some cinnamon powder and added an attractive sprinkle over the fluffy whipping cream.
Miyagi swiftly placed a mug in front of the teenager, who still hadn't found a TV show to his liking. The professor plopped down on another couch across from the blond. "Drink," he ordered simply.
Shinobu let his grey eyes drift to the hot beverage but didn't touch it. "What is it?" he asked. Well damn. Miyagi didn't know homeless prostitutes were supposed to question free food. Or drink, in this case.
"It's hot chocolate. Don't burn yourself."
"Oh." Shinobu didn't do much else. He really was a dull kid. Or maybe he just wanted to leave. Well, Miyagi wouldn't lift a finger to stop him if that were the case.
"What's wrong? Don't like chocolate?" the man teased, gently blowing his own beverage.
"Not particularly." Alright, Miyagi wasn't quite anticipated that response.
"You serious? Every kid likes sweet things." Maybe it was official: World's oddest human being—sitting right here in Miyagi's living room.
"Not all of them." Shinobu finally grabbed the steaming mug and blew against the surface. "You always bias like that?"
"Excuse me?"
"Never mind." Shinobu brought the hot chocolate up to his lips and sipped, his eyes bugging less than a second after and bringing the mug away from his red mouth.
Miyagi smirked at the display, asking, "Burn yourself?"
Shinobu responded reluctantly. "Sort of." His hand came up and wiped at his lips, scowling at the drink now settled back on the table.
The professor wanted to chuckle at the unexpected childish front but let nothing more than an amused smirk apparent on his face.
They waited for their cups to cool, each avoiding conversation with the other. Miyagi opted to direct his gaze to his TV instead.
The man began to drink once it wasn't too scorching, and soon, Shinobu also began to sip his own again.
From the corner of his eye, Miyagi sensed the kid looking at him. And indeed, they boy's eyes were staring, drilling, into him when Miyagi faced him again.
Shinobu was taking a slow sip, his eyes narrowly boring into Miyagi's, never taking them off, and not even bothering to be discreet about it, until he pulled away and his tongue came out lick away the thin, white line of cream that clung to the top of his lip.
The kid leaned back against the fabric of his seat, appearing all too fucking relaxed, and sipped again, gaze never leaving Miyagi.
The man, incapable of looking elsewhere from the boy, took a gulp from his own beverage, his own tongue instinctively licking away the cream on his own lip.
It was impossible to miss how Shinobu's line of vision followed the sight of Miyagi's tongue, soaking it in. The boy again darted his own pink tongue out and licked at his lips to collect cream that wasn't even there.
Miyagi missed none of the not-so subtle hints that indicated what was probably going through the blond's mind. And the reality of the entire situation crashed into the professor's conscience in an explosion of simple-minded little facts.
Shinobu was at his place. Shinobu was invited there. Miyagi was the one who invited him. Shinobu was a slut. A slut was at his apartment. Shinobu fucked for a living. Shinobu wanted to fuck Miyagi. Shinobu had already given Miyagi a blow job. The blow job was incredible. Miyagi was getting hard. Oh fuck, was Miyagi getting hard?!
He was. He wasn't sure if Shinobu noticed since he wasn't looking at the blond anymore, but closed his legs and lowered his mug to his lap regardless. He wanted to ignore the kid, but suddenly the boy stood with his empty mug on the table, and yawned as though everything was just mightily dandy and he hadn't just aroused the professor into an erection.
"I am go to bed soon. Where am I supposed to sleep exactly?"
Miyagi didn't pounce—not exactly—but he did suddenly landed himself on top of the boy on the couch Shinobu was sitting on, pressing the smaller body against it, mouth sucking the life out of the boy's.
He didn't even know when he had gotten up and nearly attacked the other boy, but Shinobu was lying down and Miyagi was hovering above. The kissing was sloppy and open-mouthed, allowing their tongues to fuck, and both men were heatedly trying to devour the other. Miyagi's hands were feeling up the small body, tugging at the blond's clothing, while Shinobu had his hands clawing in the raven hair, arms tight around his neck.
It wasn't enough. Miyagi abruptly pulled away, ignoring a reluctant whimper from Shinobu, and roughly pulled at the boy's hoodie, finally ripping it off the blond.
The black shirt underneath was tight, even for Shinobu's skinny torso, and seemed like it would be a pain in the ass to take off, so Miyagi swiftly yanked it all the way up to gather at Shinobu's armpits. Immediately, his mouth latched onto the creamy skin and sucked madly, some areas bruised, some areas with hickeys. Shinobu moaned when Miyagi nibbled a pert nibble, fingering the other nub. His free hand was greedily rubbing all around the boy's inner thigh, sometimes nudging the hardness in front.
"Ahh, yes, Miyagi, fuck." Shinobu was gasping out his words and that was all that the lust-driven man needed to go further.
Without so much as a warning, Miyagi ceased in his mindless actions and stood up, yanking Shinobu's arm—not too roughly, but enough to get the boy to sit up.
The flustered teenager looked at the man's eyes—desperate, lusting eyes—and knew what the man wanted without being told. He also got up and took his shirt off while calmly walking to the professor's bedroom.
Miyagi followed and was again all other the willing blond the moment they stepped in, pressing the slender body flat against the wall, lips and teeth grazing onto the smooth, creamy skin. He sucked at Shinobu's throat, neck, collarbones, fully intent on leaving his own markings to add onto the preexisting hickeys from previous fucks.
Shinobu was groaning at every wet flick of the tongue, parting his legs as he ran his hands underneath Miyagi's shirt. He felt the man's body, brushing his thumbs against the nipples every so often, relishing the harder bites produced by Miyagi every time, before his hands glided lower, expertly opening his trousers.
Once Miyagi felt confident fingers brush gently against his swelling hardness, a growl ripped from his throat as he unlatched himself from Shinobu's spit-coated neck and chest. He grabbed the boy and brought him over to the bed. Watching the blond comfortably settle on his back near the headboard, legs spread, Miyagi quickly took his shirt off and climbed over the boy in between those inviting legs.
He had never been so desperate to fuck anyone in his life. And the professor was all too eager to tear the rest of the clothing off this skinny, horny, young, delicious, slutty, beautiful kid and ease himself between his parted legs after pulling his own trousers and briefs lower.
And so Miyagi fucked Shinobu. Quite hard. Not a lot of preparation was offered, not that Shinobu seemed to give a shit, seeing as he constantly moaned with pleasure, gasping out broken words and sentences of encouragement.
Orgasm hit the other man swiftly.
He panted over Shinobu, trembling slightly from the effects of afterglow. His eyes were closed gently, sweaty brow more tensely knit together.
When he opened his eyes, he was met with the open view of the blond underneath him, still heavy aroused—the boy hadn't released yet, but was clearly working on that. Shinobu's small, rough hand was stroking his fully hard member while panting softly, glassy eyes directed at Miyagi's face.
The man watched, but his brain was mush. All thoughts were colliding, spiralling out of control, until he couldn't even attempt to come to a coherent conclusion as to what was happening—what just happened a moment ago when he was mounting into the young body for all he was worth. And his stomach—oh, good God, his stomach...
It was like time was going in slow motion, staring at the masturbating boy beneath him. And every second, every goddamn splinter of a second, his stomach felt more contorted and vile, a sinking feeling overtaking the professor.
He didn't even register the boy writhing in a blissful orgasm. But what he did notice was cum—another man's fucking semen—covering portions of Shinobu's stomach and drops on his own. A man—a teenager, a boy, a minor— was in the afterglow stage underneath him, his fluids touching the both of them. And the elder was still inside the guy. Gods...
Miyagi felt sick. Fuck, he was repulsed. He wasn't sure what part of the situation made him want to empty his twisting stomach out—be it him fucking an under-aged thing, a brat, a male, a dirty slut—but God, did he want to get away from Shinobu.
When the kid reached up to try and wrap his arms around the man's neck—Shinobu's eyes looked so damn happy, so comforted and at peace—Miyagi snapped away from the touch. He nearly jumped off the boy, ignoring the alarmed, startled look from Shinobu, and automatically worked to getting his trousers back on.
"Miyagi?"
He scanned the floor for wherever the fuck he'd thrown his shirt, until his eyes landed on Shinobu sitting up in his bed, concern etching his pretty little face. He was naked, ruffled, freshly screwed and probably getting sore, and Miyagi's stomach made another unpleasant turn.
He had to get this kid out of here. Now.
"Get up."
Shinobu appeared genuinely confused at his request. "What?"
The man groaned, turned away, offered a curt repeat of, "Get up," before sauntering back out into the living room where he began to pick up Shinobu's discarded clothing.
He turned to see Shinobu standing at the bedroom's door frame, all wrapped up in an ivory white bed sheet from his waist down. He looked as still as some kind of statue carved by talented angels—except the kid had a number of bite marks covering his body, and Miyagi knew Shinobu was far from having any kind of innocence of an angel. Now the kid looked like a replica of the devil, sent on earth in disguise to fool lusting old bastards like Miyagi.
And the professor didn't even believe in things like that—Shinobu really fucked his mind. Just like Miyagi fucked his ass. Fuck.
"Miya—"
The man stuffed the messy pile of clothing into Shinobu's free arm—the one he used to hold up the sheet—before the blond could utter another syllable. Miyagi avoided eye contact with Shinobu and ordered, "Get dressed." He sounded painfully lifeless and bland.
He walked away from Shinobu and ran a hand through his messy hair, hoping the boy was following his instructions.
Miyagi flinched embarrassingly and turned when a hand was felt on his shoulder, which immediately withdrew again with the murderous look Miyagi was unknowingly showing on his face. Shinobu was thankfully dressed again, just like the man requested, but the look of confusion—maybe a bit of worry?—never faltered.
"What's wrong?" Shinobu's voice was stoic, as usual. God, couldn't the brat ever have a bit of emotion in his voice? Miyagi was racking his brain up for answers; 'Why, why, why did you make him fuck him? Why did you make this street rat look so damn irresistible?'
And here, the boy didn't seem to find a single thing wrong with what happened, didn't show a hint of evident regret or understanding of how big of a mistakeit was to let the brat step foot in Miyagi's apartment. No—Shinobu's only discomfort was due to his simple confusion as to why they stopped and why they weren't still continuing. It was only for himself, the little shit.
Miyagi grimaced at Shinobu's messy hair, the hickeys still showing on his neck, the hoodie unable to cover all of them. He looked at the puffy red lips and looked behind the boy, at the bed sheet messily crumpled on the floor. It probably had Shinobu's jizz on it too, seeing as the man hadn't offered some tissue to wipe it off. Shinobu wasn't a fucking woman—how was Miyagi supposed to remember giving tissues to a bed mate who wouldn't need tissues in normal circumstances?
And with that thought in mind, the bitter feelings he'd been exhibiting came crashing back to him and he had to get rid of this kid.
"Wha—?!" Shinobu was startled when Miyagi grabbed onto his shoulder and steered him in the direction of the front door.
"You have to leave," the man offered simply, brows coming together tighter when Shinobu was quite reluctant to move quick enough.
"But—" He had his blond head turned towards the direction of the window. When Miyagi also followed that gaze, he had to look away and refocus on scooting the boy out of the place. He didn't realize the dark clouds overwhelming the sky. Or the nasty snowstorm falling out from under the swarm, spitting excessive amounts of snow onto the streets.
"Leave."
When he managed to get the teen just outside the doorway, Shinobu turned around to look at Miyagi and the man cringed at the almost terrified look the boy flashed him.
"Mi—!"
"Goodnight." Miyagi closed the door in his face. He locked it and stepped away, letting out a breath of relief when he didn't hear any knocking or voices calling for him to come back and let him back in.
But he wasn't feeling better now that Shinobu was gone. Hell no—if anything he felt worse.
He had to sit down again, suddenly feeling low. Very, very low—lower than he'd ever felt in his entire life. He just kicked out a boy he'd consciously fucked out of his own irresponsibility and kicked him out into the freezing cold snowstorm in the middle of the night, knowing how the boy wasn't wearing anything fit to protect him from the frosty blizzard brewing outside. The man didn't even allow the boy to spend money on the blanket he was going to purchase with the promise Shinobu could stay with him whenever needed.
And now Shinobu needed to stay, but Miyagi didn't allow it.
Yeah, Miyagi was low.
He needed to do something—anything to get his stomach to stop retching with guilt and self-loathing over the lingering disgust he was still feeling.
He picked himself up and went straight for the shower. He washed away the physical remains of his sick wrongdoings, even though nothing could be done to fix his internal conflict. He dried himself off, threw all his sheets into the hamper replaced them, and went to bed.
And that was that. Everything else, he'd clean up later.
If only he could get the image of Shinobu's face out of his mind. The look of him just after orgasm, when he looked so euphoric, and peaceful, and genuinely happy like he'd never felt any joy in years.
And during that exact moment, Shinobu looked lovely... almost beautiful, even. Not even a crude like Miyagi was capable of missing that fact.
AN: Don't hate Miyagi—hate me for making him do all that stuff.
And lemme know what you think of this bad boy. I always want to cry whenever I see someone add one of my stories to their alerts/favourites (especially favourites) and not leave some sort of comment or feedback. I mean it's not like I want an essay or Master's thesis on it xD
Next chapter, there will actually be some romance :) So stay tuned or whatever.