Soon, Yazoo started to notice some mistakes the doctor had to be punished for. Hojo didn't recognize his opponent's real nature, so submerged was he in his ego. He aimed to pick an inferior victim, one he could compel easily, one who never earned any of this coming. Realizing what a coward weakling Hojo was made by that choice, Yazoo's respect towards him dropped. Despite all the planning, preparations, the prof chose the easier, lazier way. His whole attitude was just begging for a good lecture by putting it back into its place. Vermins and worms must be exterminated. And Yazoo needed to let off some steam too.
Obsessions will be feeded, he thought, giving the strong straps a friendly, almost loving look. In case obscene plans were required, Yazoo himself didn't need to ask for advice either. Turning back to his host, he let his glance wander up and down at Hojo's body in a silently musing way, which didn't remained unnoticed.
„Care to tell me why we had to meet exactly here this time?" He asked casually.
The harsh, unhealthy laughter he received in response almost spoiled his mood. With two long steps, Hojo approached the heavy curtain separating the rest of the room and opened it teathrically, revealing the unconscious body of Priest Hewley. Very satisfied with the taken aback facial expression of his visitor, Hojo burst into another drunk guffaw, followed by a report of today's earlier happenings. No news were there for Yazoo up until the point when the medician presented a small vial filled with clear fluidum, introducing it as The Goddess, the drug responsible for the condition of the Hewley family. However, he didn't explain how he came to possess some sample himself, instead he hurried to reassure the worried-looking barwaiter that father and daughter are stabilized, in no life-danger at all. His own presentation made him more inebriated than the wine, he explained what the chemical was made of, how it worked, how long the effect took, which symptoms it caused. He got carried away enough to explain how he was able to specify the drug without having the proper equipment on board. With no indicators and laboratory test tools around, he had to rely only on his own judgements based on experience. Yazoo couldn't believe what was just confirmed: there was no possibility onboard to prove illegal drug's influence. All the warnings, policies and precautional regulations were only hoaxes, trying to keep the crew away from dope. He thought of his cabinmate. Poor Reno, all his fears were in vain! Seeing the redhead's panicking about inspections will be more fun in the future with this little knowlegde he would keep for himself.
Having finished his rant, the professor invited Yazoo closer to the unconscious priest to check his pupils or so he said. The barwaiter obliged, knowing exactly what the older man was doing behind his back. With fake shuddering, he tried to close the guest's lids in vain, and after giving up, he stepped back from the bed, closing the slightly floating curtains. The sea was indeed getting rough.
„Now, my dear, cheers!" He heard from behind, and turning around, he saw the medician offering him a glass with a seducing smile. Tricky bastard. The vial was nowhere to be seen anymore.
Yazoo willingly accepted the poison cup and the challenge. He even pretended to have a sip before vaguely grabbing at the chair.
„What's wrong?" Came the harsh question, while he put down his glass again. With an apologic smile he faked a very, very weak look.
„Nothing… I'm so sorry, I just… haven' had anything for lunch, being busy and all…" He stammered, loosening his bow-tie and collar. „And you know… these rough waves, the alcohol, and the sight of an ill person lying here… Like a dead body!"
„Oh, I see." The professor rushed forward to check the boy's pulse. „You ain't feeling well."
Although he was determined to sound worried, Yazoo knew exactly how unpatiently the prof waited for him to drink his drugged wine.
„Nothing serious." He whispered with a shy look, allowing the medician to touch his wrist and temple. „ I just need to eat something. It would help."
The cool fingertips were already touching his neck, with no pressure, as if searching for the pulse. These words stopped their cold, feather-light caressing.
„Eat…?" The doc looked surprised.
„I don't want to throw up." The barwaiter stated and that did the trick, since the prof nodded instantly. Yazoo doubled the stakes, lowering his eyelids halfway.
„Why don't you call the room-service? You also need to eat something without leaving the medical centre. I know by chance that Cloud's on duty now. He can make the best flaming crepe suisettes just in front of you. Such a gorgeous sight, seeing him doing it." He smiled as a certain memory hit him. „Simply the best."
The doctor was not fond of the idea calling people there, it just didn't fit into his plans, but Yazoo throwing up with all the consumed wine going to waste was a far worse option. Meanwhile, in the very front of his eyes, Yazoo started to inhale slowly and deeply, making a show of fighting against indisposition, his tone turning into begging.
„Please. I am hungry for some desserts." Which was too true, but instead of the food he meant the service. The medician threw an unintentional look towards a sidedoor that lead to the inner of the medical centre. Apparently he meant by dessert also something different from food. After patting his visitors face, he picked up the phone and placed his order. Yazoo paid attention to the pitching and rolling of the ship, waiting for the next rising, which always ended in a weightless moment in air, before the metallic vessel hit the waves again with a heavy thrust. Sensing the upward movement he rose clumsily to his feet, heading towards the ice-bucket on the stand next to the opposite wall.
The ship's front fell back onto the water, just as excepted.
Hojo turned back at the loud crashing, and saw the drowsy waiter lying on the floor, over the bucket and ice, grabbing at the bottle. A frightened Yazoo looked up at the cursing man, uttering apologies, lifting the saved bottle, struggling to get onto his feet again. However, with the next pitching, he lost balance again, and swept his customer away who just tried to help him getting up. Hojo landed on the icy water, with Yazoo on top of him, bottle in his hand, their mouths only a few inches away.
„So sorry, I am so sorry, Sir…" The barserver mumbled with hot breath, his suave face showing complete repentance. „I think I am more drunk than I thought… I just wanted an icecube to cool my skin."
The weight of the young body on top of him stopped the cursing pouring from the old man's mouth. Yazoo felt a palm on his waist, and made sure to grind his loin to the other's, while continuing his silly apologies nonstop. With dizzy motions he rose, kneeling on Hojo's stomach, keeping him on the ground, while he placed the bottle on the table, far away from the edge, making cautiously sure that it wouldn't fall off. While doing this, he pretended not to notice how the old perv's hand touched his thights, seemingly to push him away from atop of him, in fact enjoying his closeness. With placing some weights onto that leg the man below moaned out in pain and grimaced.
Finally they managed to secure the bucket and the stand, and Yazoo wanted to wipe the spilled water, but Hojo pushed him down into his chair.
„We'll take care about that later. Now we need to finish the wine before the sea gets too rough. Food is on the way." He put the glass back into Yazoo's hand. There was no more place for objections, and after the trouble he caused with the bucket the barserver better kept quiet.
He obliged, making a show for his audience. With a striving grimace and eyes shut thight he forced the drink in huge gulps down his throat, making his Adam's apple lift up and down from the effort. His wet shirt sticked to his chest, and so did his silver locks to his face and neck. Glimpsing up while finishing the last drops he saw that the medician also emptied his glass and put it back on the table with a smug smirk.
Before doing similarly, Yazoo sniffed at the empty glass, and licked his lips, to make sure he captures the last fragments of the stale taste and smell of Hojo's mouth. Just to remind him how he deserved the followings, and to steel his determination. Looking up he met the thriumphant look of his host. It drew a shy smile from him.
„You're really getting me into trouble, Sir." Sounded the panting conclusion, and Hojo had enough honour left not to object. With a brief look, Yazoo checked the watch on the wall. Officially, according to the previous speech of the medician, the drug needed fifteen minutes to take effect, but in an empty stomach, mixed with alcohol, presumably it would kick in faster. They had maybe ten minutes left. Or less. As a start, he suggested to get rid of the rest of Sauvignon Blanc, refraining from his share. With head tilted he observed how the unsuspecting doc rinsed the remains of The Goddess in his own glass with the leftover of the wine, and drunk it without enjoying the taste.
Again Yazoo congratulated himself for the successful action of exchanging the glasses previously, while his knee pressed the professor down to the water-soaked floor. This gave him another idea, and he lowered himself again onto his knees, climbing after the sliding icecubes.
„What the hell are you doing again." Grumbled the medician, watching the barwaiter crawling on the floor like a dog.
„Don't mind me, Sir, I just… you know, I just… like this, collecting the ice, before it melts… I don't want anyone to stumble and fall…" He explained with a fake drunken voice, bumping his head against the wall by the vessel's strong motion. He cared to push out his ass, just to keep the prof's eyes busy. Not surprisingly, Yazoo felt puttering hands on his clothes soon.
„There, just leave that mess where it is, I will make the waiter take care of it." The prof hushed while pulling off the tail-coat. „You are all soaked, need to take off your uniform before you catch a cold."
„Just like you!" He widened his eyes while standing up.
Following a failed attempt to unbutton the white gown of Hojo, he lost his balance again, falling in front of the old man's feet, uttering a drunk chuckle. On the other hand, the professor started to get tired of the lingering, and suddenly grabbed the damp silver locks at the back of Yazoo's head, forcing him to get up halfway and face him. He pressed himself against the young body, and panted breaths smelling of sour wine into the flushing face. Still laughing, Yazoo parted his lips and looked impishly into the dangerously blazing eyes. He didn't mind fooling a bit around, acting the clueless victim before the real deal. He enjoyed every delicious moment of it. Killing vermins is killing frustration.
So there they were, feeling each other's bodies, drinking in each other's sight. The old man's heavy breathing heatened Yazoo's chin and lips, building up a thin layer of sour damp on his skin.
„I am sooo wasted, Sir." The youth chuckled, arching his back.
„You are, m'pretty one, and you sooo will be." Came the drunken, purring reply from behind bared teeth, and with that, he grabbed the firm ass with his free hand.