As predicted, the rating is bouncing up to M.

IV: Dirty

breaklinebreaklinebreaklinebreaklinebreaklinebreakline

I was done for — I was damn sure of it. My life even flashed in front of my eyes. I silently wished I hadn't rushed into the women's bathroom when I had gotten sick at the airport, nor asked a boy out when my fly was down (his eyes on my crotch had given me such a sickeningly false hope that I nearly cried out of embarrassment). In any case, I decided to merely repent like crazy, though I was hardly one of religious principle, but Judgment Day never came; I still felt my chest heaving and smelled the staleness of dirt. Heavy boots crunched somewhere in the darkness. After that, raucous silence slowly passed.

"Sora?" a voice whispered. Soft lips brushed my ear, and I immediately recognized them to be Riku's. I tried to reply, but found that my chin was locked against compact mud, while my head was being jammed into Riku's chest. So, I squeezed his hand in response, and hoped that he wouldn't take it the wrong way. We then waited for something, and I didn't dare to complain. My heart gradually dropped to a steadier beat, although every time Riku moved just slightly, and I could discern it distinctly, it would rise vivaciously.

Then Riku released my hand (I instinctively reached out for it again), and sunlight flooded the little crevice of earth we had been hiding in. I winced, shutting my eyes against the light, and tried not to whimper as Riku shifted into the newly-exposed opening; my head was being tilted back and my neck was scratched by the sharp pebbles wedged into the ground. Riku noticed and stopped his efforts, moving back to where my neck didn't feel like it would snap in half. Riku's breath was now paced in a way that gave me the impression that he was panicky; something that made me freak out and comprehend the predicament we were in for the first time being stuffed in the stupid burrow.

"We're going to move simultaneously this time," Riku instructed. He was struggling to keep a quality of composure, but it was apparent that he was antsy about my well-being. It did, however, give me some confidence that he would, at least, not do anything too incredibly dense.

Once again, I squeezed his hand in conformation. Riku moved up, and so did I. He wiggled, and I moved with him, paying no heed, or at least attempting, to the way his hips ground against my back. Once the upper half of me was exposed, I reached out and gripped the wet grass, while Riku wrapped his arms around my sides. We propelled against the dirt walls and writhed the rest of the way out. We sprawled out onto our backs, limbs spread out like we were in the process of making snow angels, to catch our breath.

I turned to Riku, and then burst out laughing. It really was hilarious; the way his pretty-boy face looked caked in mud, and how his favorite jeans were torn up and stained hideously. His hair was so matted up it'd take hours and hours in the shower to get rid of the stuff. Riku glared at me, but it made me laugh even harder, since it was hardly noticeable with his face smothered with dirt.

"Not that you look any better," Riku quipped. It was sharp enough to make me shut right up.

We labored in sitting up; finding our bones to be as creaky as an old man's. Once standing, I stretched to the sky and grinned at Riku, under the impression that we were then safe and sound. Riku frowned and tugged me by the wrist. I followed reluctantly, but, by then, had placed my trust in his logic — it would've been unfeasible for a claustrophobe like me to analyze such a situation and quickly take on the most difficult plan of action.

Riku had, as I suspected, led me down the back entrance of the mansion. The "backyard" was actually a massive garden cut into the forest that surrounded the homestead. The colorful flowers that had once lavished the ornate décor, arranged by the most expertise-endowed florists, were trampled on. All the benches, the fountains, everything that had impressed many a guest during social get-togethers were bashed and set into flames. The glass French doors were shattered. Riku cautiously opened the doors, as to not cut himself, and waltzed right on in, as if there was absolutely nothing abnormal about the whole ordeal. The lights were blown out now, and everything was strewn across the rooms. Priceless family portraits were face-down on the floor, surrounded by shards of the glass that had once framed them in proud shining gold. The chairs, accented by ornate floral prints, were slashed and the fluffy cotton burst from the seams. The walls were smeared with obscenities. It all seemed so surreal that I hardly notice the rancid smell coming from the master bedroom. I couldn't identify what it was, not then, and Riku wouldn't let me.

By the time we reached my bedroom, the only one left completely untouched, I gathered enough sense to ask why we came back to the ransacked place. Certainly, whoever had done this could still be there, lurking in the shadows and awaiting our arrival. Riku stopped in his tracks, and gave me such a look that I wanted to run back to that little hole and shut the trap door behind me.

He continued on and went through the bathroom door, then locked it behind him. There were no windows in the room, but I wondered if it really was safer than running in the other direction. Riku didn't seem to be thinking of our safety at the moment; he was yanking his shirt over his head. His pristine chest looked funny attached to his dirty neck and face, but at the same time I felt myself turning very, very red. Riku either didn't notice or maybe he just didn't care. He undid his belt and tugged off his jeans. Clad only in black silk boxers, he leaned over ­— I constrained the urge to drool — and turned the faucet. Steaming water rushed into the deep, pallid tub. Riku then looked at me expediently, and it dawned on me that he wanted me strip down to my boxers as well, and then into my birthday suit. I shook my head stubbornly, crossing my arms over my chest and staring down at my feet.

"Oh, come on," Riku rolled his eyes. "Gayness aside, we're both men. Unless you're…ahem…handicapped in that area."

"As if!" I exclaimed defiantly. Riku grinned daringly, hooked his thumbs in his boxers, and tugged them down to his ankles. They pooled there, and I intently examined every fold, every little shadow, every speck of mud. After there was really no excuse to meticulously stare down that article, I lifted my eyes to that area. It was so damn big! I and nearly fainted out a mixture of humiliation, for what happened to my own area afterwards.

"It's like…all big and stuff" was the only half-way intelligent remark I could come up with. Riku's face was smug, as if this was something he heard often. And I could make a decent assumption that it was probably something that he heard often.

"Now, let's see it," said Riku.

"See what?" I asked blankly.

"Your present, of course."

"Wait — what?"

"We've got to determine who's on top of their game."

"What does that have to do with presents?"

"Everything, my dear Sora…everything."

I got it then, that he wanted to see my "package". Riku, King of Bad Puns and Manly Parts. I cleared my throat, and figured that Riku did have a point. Despite my gayness, and his possible gayness, we were both still men. And as men, we could bathe with each other without a gay moment. It was the way nature worked. Straight men and straight women bathing together could not go without intercourse, for the combining of YX and Y chromosomes meant a sexual encounter, while a combination of a Y and Y chromosome meant absolutely no chance of reproduction, normally.

Or that might have been a lame excuse to get naked with Riku in a tub of nice hot water. What matters most is that my arms were functioning on their own accord. My shirt and pants and even the heart-print boxers were gone within a matter of minutes, while my mind was still struggling to remember how to pull a shirt over my head without my arms getting stuck in the sleeves.

Riku didn't have an expression on his face while I stood there naked, yet I caught a glimpse of something popping upwards, but he spun around and plopped into the tub too quickly for me to ascertain this.

I followed him into the tub, sinking into the water with a soft sigh. I pointedly avoided staring at Riku for longer than necessarily, although he was nonchalantly looking me up and down in a manner that was similar to a lioness appreciating her fat, juicy prey. The thought worried me for a moment — I wasn't fat was I?! — but the footsteps outside the bathroom, somewhere in the hall, quickly concerned me more than Riku's questionable intentions.

"Shouldn't we be alerting the police, not taking a goddamn bath?" I interrogated Riku, glaring at him. Riku shrugged. I jumped to my feet, water spilling over the top of the tub and splashing onto the tiled floor. I promptly slipped and fell on Riku's lap, barely avoiding a risqué situation (i.e., the pencil being shoved into the sharpener)

"Shouldn't you try to be a little quieter when an intruder is standing outside of the bathroom door?" Riku hissed, and thumped me on the top of the head.

"Well, we wouldn't have to worry about that if we were at the police station, now would we?" I tried to keep my voice down, though it was becoming shaky and high-pitched as my nerves began to kick in again. No wonder lust was a sin! It was distracting, enough to bring about a highly unlikely and, in retrospect, ridiculous situation.

"Shut the fuck up," and Riku shoved me backwards. My back and head hit the tub, and he sat on my waist, straddling me. He pushed my head under the water, drowning me, and didn't respond when I tried kneeing and kicking his back with my flailing legs. Obviously, drowning me to keep me quiet was futile — we were making more noise with my senseless struggling than with our argument.

My head spun, my lounges ached, and my ears hurt with the loud echoes the water made. I fought against Riku harder as I felt that my life might, truly, be in jeopardy. I bucked my hips against him, and he yelped when I had the brilliant, yet maybe too cruel, idea to mercilessly twist his balls. We thrashed against the tub, which, by the way, wasn't affixed to the floor, but, rather, was held up by curved pegs complete with fancy little lion paws. As a result, it tipped over.

We tumbled out of the tub, and Riku smacked into the wall, while I used him as an appropriate buffer. There was a banging on the door, a muffled, angry voice, and then many footsteps came running to the bathroom. I was still woozy, and could only respond to the poundings and shouts with, "WAIT A MINUTE, I'M NOT DECENT!"

Riku slapped a hand over my mouth. "Do you ever shut up?" he demanded lowly. I shook my head. He sighed.

"OPEN THIS DOOR, MOTHERFUCKER!"

Both Riku and I gaped at each other with wide-eyes. "Roxas?!" we gasped, and attempted to jump up to our feet — only managing to slip and fall on our asses. I used towel-rack as leverage, making sure to grab one of those towels, and unlocked the door, whilst forgetting that Riku was buck-naked and whining about a broken hipbone or something.

The door flew open and, to my dismay, Roxas hugged me fiercely.

"Jesus Christ, Sora, I thought you were dead!" his voice was muffled in my chest, but I got the gist of it, and could only respond by wrapping my arms around him. The police officers rushed in and yanked Riku off the ground, pulling his arms behind his back and slapping handcuffs over his wrists.

"Oh, kinky!" Riku cooed sarcastically at the deputy who'd cuffed him.

To be continued, bitches. :)