The Academy From Hell (1/?) by pitfalls

Warning: M/M scenes today people (liiiiitle bit of non-con, but it doesn't really escalate).

Disclaimer: Don't own.

CHAPTER ONE


I suppose I should at least tell you how it started. The story behind how I came to be kicked out of one of the most prestigious schools in England with no way of being anything but grateful that they didn't take it further. Oh, and how I got the president's son expelled along with me. I guess if I really have to think about it, the story doesn't even start when I first started there- it goes back to that long, baking summer before.

Yeah, so that summer was pretty much one of the best of my life. Scratch that, it was the best. It was gloriously long, and seemed to stretch out forever with no hope of coming to an end. All I did was meet up with Kiba and the guys, smoke, drink and really just… relax. England was going through some bizarre heatwave, and we planned to make the most of it. In fact, I still can't bear the sight of paddling pools after that unfortunate accident with Lee and the hammer (although I did split my sides laughing about it for at least a week). We'd just finished exam season, and the prospect of going off to Uni was more than enough to push us into this 'live fast die young' type mindset for the next four months. It was like there was no stopping us, we were eighteen and therefore free of nagging parents and teachers, free of any society based constraints. It was bloody brilliant and it was an unspoken agreement to enjoy every single fucking second – make it as unforgettable as we could. After all, we'd be going our separate ways as soon as September started.

And so, around July, we made the decision to head off into the sunny south of France for a holiday. Just the usual gang: me, Kiba, Kankuro, Shino, Ten-ten and Lee. And to be pedantic, I suppose that's where it all started, that's where everything was suddenly propelled into motion and, without sounding too cliché or dramatic, my life was changed forever. If I hadn't have seen him in that club, if I hadn't have drank that one glass of water, if I hadn't have argued with him about that olive – But wait. I'm getting ahead of myself.

I'll start in France.

So, picture this: A day spent on the beach, burying Kankuro in sand (because he loves it so much, giggidy), daring Lee to ask two middle aged men out and trying to drag Ten-Ten away from the surfing instructor. An exhausting day of doing absolutely nothing, perfectly finished by sitting in the bar and watching the sun sink red beneath the waves as I dug my feet into the sand.

Although to be honest we weren't really focusing on the scenery at that point. For want of anything better to do…Yes, I'll admit, we got absolutely and purposely pissed. It started with Lee, as it always does, challenging Kiba to some kind of 'righteous, youthful drinking competition', and of course he accepted – we all know how much of a lightweight Lee is. Then, however, moderately tipsy Kiba challenged Shino, and a drunk Shino was so awkward/honestly-fucking-creepy that the rest of us ended up drinking more just so we could stop laughing. What can I say? It seemed like a good idea at the time – shotting back vodka and sipping Cosmopolitans and other girly drinks just for the shits and gigs, whilst the smell of salt and barbeque curled lazily around us like an old lover, dredging up old memories and taking the piss out of Lee's 'dancing'.

And then the turning point of this whole ordeal: someone had the ridiculously stupid idea to go to that famous gay French club, TRINITY, as it was pretty close by and hell, we had some money to spend. In my defense, we were all drunk: the idea of spending half the money we took with us and queuing up for hours just to spend more money on overpriced drinks at a pretentiously posh night club seemed like omissible fun.

I can't really remember how we got from the beach bar to TRINITY, and I don't recall queuing at all (even though I was assured later that we passed the time by daring each other to chat up random French women…and men). It was all a bit hazy by then, and the first thing I can recall thinking was actually how good the club's interior was. It was like partying in some old, opulent, French aristocrats home but with a huge bar and DJ stage and maybe more than a couple of barely dressed pole dancers. It had at least three stories, but only the first floor was open to paying guests -the second and third were exclusively available for the VIP parties (the rich and the royalty and the socialites). Even so, you could still see the amazingly high arched ceiling from the dance floor, painted in the typical renaissance 'winged children and naked women' esque style. The whole space oozed sex, money and independence, and really, even in my drunken state I was still a bit awed.

As I staggered inside, the base was a thrumming pounding and so loud I felt like my heart had started beating in time; the kind of volume that makes your teeth vibrate. I couldn't understand a word of French, which made singing along impossible, so every time a song came on in English it became custom to shout the words out as loud as we could before collapsing in fits of giggles. Yes, we may have got a couple of odd looks for it (either that, or Ten-Ten's 'singing'), but we could just blame it on being foreign, if nothing else.

High up on tiny circular cylinders were several dancers, both genders, eyes closed and swaying. Their gyrating and graceful hip shaking was mirrored in the writhing mass of people below, stray white lights illuminating flecks of sweat and glitter every so often. In reality, we were so drunk by then that we didn't even need to visit the bar – we just headed straight into one of the dancing sections. It was so easy to get lost in the heat and the noise that it took me by surprise when after only a couple of seconds I could just make out flashes of Lee, and no one else.

But anyway, I was feeling pretty damn good by this point; drunk enough to be finding it all hilarious and brilliant but just sober enough to be able to dance. It was getting hot: sweat was pasting my top to my chest, outlining my abs and clinging to my waist. I didn't really care - everyone dancing was in the same situation. Closing my eyes, I sank right into the music, running a hand through my blonde hair and trying to ignore the appreciative pedo glances I was getting from people around me.

I'd been dancing for at least an hour before some guy wove his way through the crowd to approach me. He grinned, showing white teeth and clear blue eyes, and moved into my personal space. I didn't really notice him that much – I was too focused in staring intently though a gap in the crows where I thought I could see Kiba – until his warm hands landed on my hips. I froze for a moment – slightly surprised at the contact, before resuming my dancing. It was nice; soothing and steadying, especially when I was feeling slightly dizzy still. The song changed effortlessly, and we swayed together, my back lightly touching his front.

I don't know when it happened, but all of a sudden I realized I was grinding up against this random guy, and that he either had something very hard in his pocket, or…

I swallowed, and all of a sudden I felt claustrophobic; the heat had risen beyond pleasurable and progressed into something too intense: I was looking for a good time dancing with my friends, not to fuck someone whose name, let alone face, I didn't even know. Gradually, awareness of just how drunk and therefore at risk I was seeped in through the strobe lights and the base, and I realized I should probably be trying to find my friends.

Trying too hard not to think about it, I did the sensible thing: I tugged his hands off my hips and shouldered my way through the crowd, flicking my sweat-dripping hair off my face and blinking my eyes in an effort to regain coherency. I managed to slip through, finding my way to one of the small bars stationed around the floor. Shino was at the opposite end to where I was, deeply engaged in conversation with a small, dark haired girl holding what looked like a whisky glass. I was about to make my way over before he glanced up and subtly shook his head. Oh well, if he was pulling who was I to disrupt it?

I sat down where I was and ordered a water to clear my head. Shino actually managed to get a girl before I did. What a mindfuck. Although, it wasn't really a girl I was looking for…

A couple of seconds later, the chair next to me was pulled out and someone slipped in. I lazily turned my head and wasn't really surprised to find it was the guy from before.

He ordered a drink before he stuck out a hand and smiled wolfishly once again.

"Zabuza. And you are…?"

I shook his hand, a little bit surprised at the gravel to his voice. "Naruto." I answered politely, giving him a trademark Uzumaki smile.

He returned the smile and shifted a little closer towards me on his seat as I sipped my water. It was ice cold, and quite refreshing, not to mention doing a good job of sobering me up. Bit by bit, the warm fuzziness from too much alcohol was slowly starting to recede.

"So Naruto, what bring you to France?" He propped his head on his hand, and maintained eye contact while I debated how much to tell him. It took a while to sink in, but then I realized and my eyes widened a little - he was actually talking English!

"Hey, a fellow Brit!" We bumped fists. "I'm actually here on holiday with friends before we all head off to Uni." I said casually, looking over towards Shino for a couple of seconds to see how he fared with his new 'date'. Well, the girl hadn't stormed off looking appalled yet, so evidentially they hadn't gotten round to talking about his apparent bug obsession.

Zabuza laughed, taking a gulp of whatever alcohol he'd ordered. It looked suspiciously to be vodka based, and in truth the smell was making me feel a little sick. This is what you get for drinking too much, I chided myself. Trying to straighten up a little, I took another large gulp of my water to cure my nausea, forcefully ignoring the chemical taste; everything tastes weird when you're drunk.

'Allo? Il a mis quelque chose dans votre boisson!' I put my drink down, and looked up to where the barman was suddenly striding over to where we were sitting, eyes wide and intent on me. What the hell? If this was another person trying to make me pay for tap water…

Although that didn't quite seem to be it.

He started at me, frowning and speaking furiously in French for several seconds, before giving up and starting on Zabuza. The guy starting spitting out words rapidly and employing angry hand gestures to my new friend, who simply sat there – the picture of frozen calm. I had no idea what he was saying, but he definitely sounded pissed off, and kept pointing to me, eyes flashing.

Surprisingly, Zabuza answered in the same tongue, calmly, if not a little threateningly. They exchanged words for another couple of seconds before the barman threw up his arms in seeming despair and strode off to take someone's drink order.

Zabuza turned to me, and shrugged, raising his glass to mine. "Here's to doing French A-level all those years ago." He mocked, clinking our glasses together and taking a long swig. I followed suit, draining my water and banging the glass down on the surface.

"All those years ago? You can't be more than twenty two, my friend." I assured him, my voice coming out sounding a little odd.

Strange. I should've been sobering up, not getting more drunk.

The older man simply winked at me. "Wouldn't you like to know. Now come on, let's go somewhere quieter where we can properly talk." His voice dipped lower until it was just a rough purr. I didn't really want to follow him, but he stood, heaving me up with him by the arm. I got unsteadily on to my feet, trying to find some balance. The room spun and my eyes weren't really focusing on anything.

Shit, he'd fucking put something in my drink!

I tried to accuse him, but the words all merged together and what came out was a barely comprehensible sentence. He seemed to get the gist though, as his grip around my waist tightened and his eyes lost the amused look they had earlier. "Just come with me, ok? I think somebody drank a little bit too much."

I wanted to let Shino know, get him to step in and do something, but he wouldn't look up from his date, and my mouth wasn't cooperating. My tongue felt thick and heavy, and my eyes had closed to half lids against my will. On the outside, I probably did look completely pissed, but inside I was screaming at someone to notice, to realize that something about this whole situation wasn't quite right.

I always shudder when I think about this part, because it makes me realize just how big and strong and world-wise I always thought I was, and just how much I wasn't; how vulnerable I was. If one tiny little thing had changed, if Zabuza had dragged me into the room next door, or the timing hadn't been just so–

But there's no point in dwelling on what if's.

Anyway, at this point the world kept blinking in and out. Black. White. Flash. Repeat. I can only really remember snatches of what happened: someone's hand resting on my stomach for a couple of heartbeats, a dancer's elbow catching me in the side as Zabuza hauled me across the room, a stray pink light highlighting Kiba in the crowd before he was snatched away, the music in my ears (loud and incorrigible), and then suddenly it was quieter, and cooler and I was propped against a wall.

It took me a while to think through the haze in my mind, but I eventually realized that we were upstairs, a strictly forbidden, no-go area. Distantly, I knew I should probably be worried or something…but I just couldn't dredge up any negative emotion. It all seemed like one big joke as Zabuza planted his lips across mine and his tongue squirmed it's way into my partially open mouth. I would have resisted, but my limbs felt weighted, immovable, and to be honest, I was slightly turned on so I didn't really care. Cold, fumbling hands slipped under my shirt and stroked my nipples, teasing them with little flicks and making them harden instantly.

I heard myself groan – or was it him? I didn't really know, but all of a sudden we were moving again, stumbling through the corridor, knocking in to the wall before I heard a door slam behind me. There was no time to think about it, or even look around because then he was on me again, his movements hungry and rough.

Teeth nipped at my lips, forcing them open for his tongue. My mouth was plundered – I didn't even have the wits to kiss back or push him off, I just stood there, swaying, tasting salt and vodka. His fingernails scraped up my chest, pushing my top off me with hurried, rapid movements, ripping the stitching as it got stuck on one of my arms. As soon as I was bare chested, he swiftly dragged down my board shorts, leaving me with only my black briefs.

He didn't even pause – the more skin he revealed, the more pleasure he took in marking it with bites, red marks and scratches. I felt too hot, claustrophobic, but when I raised my hands in an effort to push him away, he simply grabbed hold of my wrists in one hand and pinned them to the wall above my head. I was physically trapped, and too dizzy to do anything about it.

Zabuza's hands found my nipples again, making me give a pained gasp at the harsh fondling.

"You like that?" He grunted, sticking a thigh in between my legs and pushing our groins together. I guess it shocked me a little to feel the hot hardness there, as if it made the whole thing all a bit more real. With a small amount of sick horror I realized it was seriously happening. I was going to be raped.

"N-No, stop it." The weak protest that tumbled out my mouth was ignored, or just not heard. Either way, he simply continued doing what he wanted, slowly thrusting our hips together until I could feel myself growing aroused, and hating myself for it. The drug was slowly clamping down on my brain, making thoughts and actions fall out of sync, and replacing them with just this weird, burning need.

He thrusted a little harder, and rubbed my nipple with the rough pad of his finger at the same time. Ok, yes I might have groaned a little.

And maybe, maybe, pushed back – but I was scarily out of my mind. Colours were all bleeding in to one, and I couldn't think, only feel and hear the flurry of 'stop' and 'no' and 'harder' slip out of my mouth and then–

"Just what the fuck is going on here?"

Zabuza tensed and froze against me for several moments, before he slowly untangled our limbs and unblocked my vision. It took me a minute to realize what was going on, why he'd stopped. I didn't even have time to be thankful as I peered around his shoulder to the person standing in the open doorway.

Even in my drugged up state, my breath caught, and I couldn't do anything but stare, gaping at my potential saviour.

He was…fucking glorious. I know that's a really girly-ass word to use, but he was. In fact, I was pretty sure I could have been drooling. It wasn't so much the good-looks, the fine cut cheekbones, the determined set of his jaw, the smooth paleness of his skin or the black hair that looked softer than hair had a right to be, glued sweat-sticky on his brow. It wasn't the solid frame, the graceful arrogance in his stance, or even the intelligent (and currently angry) flash of dark eyes.

It was everything. If someone had a check list of 'Naruto's type' he would have ticked every single box, and then quite possibly added some more. In fact, I was deliriously half tempted to start jotting them down so I wouldn't forget them later.

The sex-god stared at me like I was some kind of retard.

Thankfully, Zabuza decided to answer him, diverting his attention from my open mouth. "I would have thought it was pretty obvious," He grinned, but his eyes remained cold, and gestured to my nakedness. "However it's still none of your business."

"I can assure you it is my 'business', as you do not have permission to be up here." Sex-god pointed out.

Zabuza simply looked at him, unimpressed.

"And who the fuck are you?"

"Which only confirms my hypothesis. If you are who you say you are, you should at least recognize the owner of this club."

And this, ladies and gentlemen, was when I decided to add my incredibly witty self to the conversation.

"What? You look about twelve! There's no…n-no way you own this…ah….um…" I dissolved into giggles, and floppily raised my hand to point at him. In his defense, he must have incredibly good hearing to decipher my slurring.

"Club? Establishment?" He finished off, unimpressed, stepping closer and peering at me. "And I'm nineteen, actually. I'm assured that it is quite old enough to run a business."

His dark eyes widened fractionally as he got a good look at me, before he closed off completely, his mouth a thin line.

"You're off your fucking head." He seemed a little shocked, before switching his gaze to Zabuza.

"What did you give him, you idiot? His pupils are way too dilated."

"I didn't give him anything, now piss off."

I chose this moment to give a very heroic stumble forward, before Zabuza grabbed my arm and wrenched me back. I winced and hissed in pain, looking down to see almost bruises in the shape of fingerprints, from when he'd grabbed me earlier. From the sex-god's face, he hadn't missed them either.

His eyes narrowed and he looked kind of angry. "What the fuck. Is this even consensual?"

I shook my head, weakly struggling to break the older man's hold. 'Fucking…put something in m-my…drink…" I managed to get out before everything spun again and I had to forcefully relax my muscles. I felt vaguely sick, and fluorescent patches kept invading my vision.

And then, suddenly, I was floating. Muffled noises seemed to swim past – a thud, some shouting maybe, the door slamming…I wasn't really sure. My memories get pretty sketchy at this point. I do remember being jostled a bit, hitting the floor, hearing a crack as my head was a bit too eager…but then there was warmth, arms around me, and two black, black, eyes looking concernedly into mine.


Thanks for reading, please drop a review.

*Allo? Il a mis quelque chose dans votre boisson! - 'Hello? He's put something in your drink!'