Seitarou was working the graveyard shift immediately following the afternoon shift, and he was exhausted. He'd been doing paperwork all morning in Hajime's office, which was less strenuous than active duty, but it still added to his count of total consecutive hours spent awake.
His newest record was almost forty-two consecutive hours spent awake, but he figured he'd break that record again within a month or two. Working as a guard at Nanba prison was a tough job, but he didn't regret working here.
To be honest, he doubted there was anywhere else for him in the world where he would fit in.
He'd never fit in at school as a child. He was a average at sports, ranging from average to slightly above average in academics, and lacking in any significant social skills. He wasn't charming or smooth, no matter how hard he tried to be, so he was often a loner content with his lot in life. College had proved to be too difficult for him, so after completing two years of it, he dropped out at his cousin's suggestion and applied to be a guard at Nanba prison. It had seemed like a job he was capable of doing, and since he'd been hired, the work wasn't disappointing. Hajime was a mentor and superior that he respected and was fond of, the inmates of building thirteen were interesting, especially those in cell thirteen, and the situation wasn't as grim as he'd expected. If he continued doing good work here, he could probably continue to work here for the rest of his life. The wages could be better, but what they lacked in quantity, they were somewhat compensated for with other benefits, like the various recreational facilities available to the guards.
His love-life wasn't thriving much, but it hadn't been thriving before Nanba prison either. It wasn't that women didn't like him; quite the contrary, it was easy for him to attract at least a few of them anywhere he went. The problem was being able to connect with them once they'd been impressed by his looks. He was awkward, shy, reserved, and he caved to pressure too easily. Women were attracted to him, sure, but they never stayed with him.
At Nanba prison, he had quite a different issue: some of the men were attracted to him, and he turned them down as respectfully as he could, explaining that he didn't swing that way, but they never seemed to leave him alone.
He'd continue to politely turn them down each time they propositioned him, and usually this was enough to deter them.
Usually.
It wasn't until that weary February night that Seitarou ever truly suffered for being a pretty boy.
That night, he was curled up under the thin blanket lining the night duty room's cot, having removed his gloves, boots, jacket, tie, and shirt because it was more comfortable to rest that way, even if he was still cold. So, in undershirt, pants, and socks he tried to steal a few minutes of sleep for himself. Forcing his mind into a lulled state as he listened to the faint white-noise of the prison's nightly sounds.
He'd gotten himself to the point of being merely half-conscious when he heard the door open and a bit of grey light filtered in before the door was closed again. Seitarou was still in the process of rolling over to see who it was when the sickeningly potent scent of tropical perfume washed over him, making him want to gag.
"Supervisor Mitsuba?" Seitarou gasped in surprise as he sat up in bed, acutely uncomfortable. "W-What are you doing here?"
And why haven't you turned the light on?
"Oh, I got bored in my building, decided I'd pay the ever-eccentric building thirteen a late-night visit." His voice was no less flamboyant than it was in broad daylight.
"Is... that even allowed?" the prison guard asked hesitantly, struggling to breathe as the drag queen sat beside him on the bed, uncomfortably close.
"Have you considered my offer, you precious little dumpling?" Mitsuba queried, pinching Seitarou's cheek in an overly affectionate way.
"Yes, and I've decided that I'm quite happy in building thirteen," Seitarou answered with a nervous laugh, but Mitsuba laid a gloved finger over Seitarou's lips.
"Hush now, child."
I'm not a child, Seitarou thought with annoyance, but his body had frozen in response to Mitsuba's touch.
"Let me show you what you're missing out on."
"Please, don't—" Seitarou's lips were stopped with an unwelcome kiss that tasted much too strongly of sake. He wanted to pull away, but it felt like his body had forgotten how to move.
What on earth?
Fear froze him, so when Mitsuba's tongue flicked between his lips, he shuddered, but he didn't pull away. He couldn't. When Mitsuba pushed Seitarou down on the bed, the blue-haired guard swallowed hard and opened his mouth once more.
"Supervisor, stop." He tried to put force behind his words, but it was hard to do when he was choking on the other's potent perfume. "Stop…" His voice trailed off as Mitsuba's fingers slipped under his waistband.
"No need to be so coy, darling," the bird crooned. "I'll make sure you don't get into any trouble for this."
That was the last thing on Seitarou's mind right now.
"And I locked the door, so we won't get caught either. Just relax~"
Seitarou's body stiffened instead, accidentally making it easier for Mitsuba to roll him over onto his stomach, then begin to position him like he was nothing but a puppet or doll.
"Stop… stop, please," Seitarou pleaded, his voice shaking, his hands gripping the edge of the mattress as Mitsuba lifted the guard's rear into the air by his hips, spreading his legs by nudging them with his knees.
He wanted to think of something he could do to stop what was happening, but everything was frozen in his mind too.
Wake up! Wake up!
"You don't need to pretend you don't want this, Seitarou-chan," the supervisor assured with his feminine tones. "Like I said, I'll make sure you don't get in trouble for this, so just relax and enjoy the ride." Mitsuba took hold of Seitarou's waistband once more, pulling his pants and boxers together down to the guard's knees.
"I-I'm not pretend—Ah!" Seitarou's ever-weakening protests were cut off when he felt something foreign suddenly being shoved inside him and good lord it hurt. With his free hand, Mitsubi pushed Seitarou's face down into the pillow and hushed him. As Mitsuba squirmed first one dry finger then two inside Seitaro's virgin hole, the young guard started to quietly cry into the pillow. It was also at this time that he started to turn off.
Seitarou woke up with a sticky soreness between his thighs, salty trails dried onto his cheeks, and obviously stained sheets. He lay still for awhile, wanting to just curl up in bed all day…
Wait, he could do that. This was his day off, his first in a while. He just needed to get up and…
If he could only persuade his limbs to move…
Why did he feel like he was forgetting something?