The following morning, after a relatively sleepless night, Omi was walking to breakfast with Kaoru when they unexpectedly crossed paths with Nakajima. The senior appeared to be returning to the dormitory from the dojo after karate practice. Usually, Nakajima did his practice earlier, but Omi knew that Niwa had stayed late chatting and smoking with his friend last night.
The older student looked even taller and broader in his white karate outfit, and Omi could see that his skin was damp. A bead of sweat was working its way down the senior's left temple. As they drew within a few feet of each other and Nakajima looked at him, he caught a whiff of the other boy's sweat and he felt his penis suddenly twitch with distinct interest. He flushed.
"Morning, Nakajima-senpai," Kaoru stopped and greeted the Vice President, whose pace slowed.
"Saionji-kun." But unlike when Nakajima visited the Treasury, today the older boy barely looked at Kaoru. Omi realised with a coil of dread, which oddly made him feel more aroused, that Nakajima was observing him closely, his eyes even openly swept him up and down as he neared. Had Nakajima noticed?
"Nakajima-senpai," Omi greeted softly when the older boy was almost on top of them. It seemed Nakajima had decided to pass them on Omi's side.
Nakajima smirked. "Omi." And stopped at his side, slightly in front of him.
Omi suddenly felt very, very hot. Nakajima was looking down at him, openly staring at his blush and at his very disobedient and slutty arousal. Oh, Gods. He wanted to die right now. And Kaoru was watching too.
"You look especially good this morning," Nakajima said softly, near his ear. He was still looking at Omi's erection. His eyes suddenly swept up to give him eye contact. "I'd like to have you for breakfast."
And I would love to be yours, Omi couldn't help thinking.
"Come find me if you want help with that." And then, after another pointed look at Omi's pants, the Third Year, smirking, continued walking back to the dormitory.
There was a silence. Not wanting to turn around himself, Omi watched Kaoru stare after Nakajima. After a minute or so, his friend looked at him and hissed, "What was that all about?"
"Uh… sorry, Kaoru-kun."
Omi suddenly noticed that there was a blush on Kaoru's cheeks. "Come to the bathroom," his friend snapped, and - grabbing Omi's arm - he turned away to begin stalking across the grass - heading towards the toilets attached to the science building.
Once inside the deserted bathroom, Kaoru pushed Omi towards one of the stalls. "Go on."
Omi obediently went into one of the stalls and closed the door behind him. He undid the belt of his pants, unzipped himself, and then - uncomfortable with the silence in the room - hesitated. "Kaoru-kun."
"Yes?"
"Could you wait outside?"
"Yes… wait, no!" And then there was the sound of Kaoru's approaching feet and suddenly, to Omi's shock, Kaoru was knocking on the stall door. "Let me in."
"I'm half naked!"
"I've seen it before," Kaoru snapped. "Let me in right now, Omi!"
Omi flicked the lock and suddenly Kaoru was inside, shutting the door, and pressing up against him in the tight cubicle. His hair brushed against Omi's cheek, smelling of flowery shampoo and conditioner. He felt small and warm and his hand was too - burying into Omi's open pants and pulling out his erection.
"What are you doing?" Omi yelped.
"Practicing for that fucking oaf!" And then Kaoru was pulling him off, and Omi came hard moments later.
"You're going out with Niwa?" he asked confusedly. He watched Kaoru wipe his hand clean on some toilet tissue before attentively bending slightly to dry his softened penis and tuck it away.
Kaoru looked up at him, his green eyes suddenly anxious. "I was going to tell you," he said, "but he only asked me out late last night."
"How?"
"By text message. He changed his number," Kaoru said as he unlocked the stall door and they trooped out. "Kaoru-chan, how about a date. Huh." He began washing his hands, tutting when he found the soap dispenser next to his chosen sink empty.
Omi pressed down on the dispenser next to another sink a few times and reached over to drip his handful of liquid soap onto Kaoru's hands. "You said yes?" he asked as he began washing his own hands.
Kaoru shot him an incredulous look. "No, I told him no. But then he rang me and asked me out civilly… and I said yes."
"That's not like you."
Kaoru huffed as he went over to the hand towelette to pat dry his hands. "I suppose I felt bad about giving him that black eye. The Chairman called me to say I actually broke a bone around Niwa's eye when you were out with Nakajima last Sunday." He waited until Omi had dried his hands and checked his appearance in the mirror, and then they left and resumed heading to the breakfast hall. "Omi, what are you going to do about Nakajima?"
"I don't know," Omi said honestly.
"You obviously like him. And he quite clearly likes teasing you. Is he serious about you?"
Omi flushed. That was what he was worried about. Kaoru, on seeing his expression, pursed his lips.
"Go and see him after class today," he said. "That politics assignment is bothering you, right? That's his best subject. Ask him for help with it."
Omi swallowed. "I'm not…" He trailed off, words failing him. He was scared, basically.
Kaoru seemed to read his expression. His friend smiled at him. "You'll be fine," he said softly.
NHSO/NHSO/NHSO/NHSO
"Oi, Hide."
That afternoon, Hideaki looked up from where he was sitting working behind the Student Council Office desk to look first at Tetsuya, who he had last seen lounging on the sofa with his laptop, to follow his friend's gaze to the open door.
Shichijo was standing there, smiling that little polite smile that told nothing. Hideaki eyed him curiously for a few moments, and then rose and walked over to him. He stepped right up to the door jamb, close enough to see Shichijo shiver slightly. "You want something?" he asked quietly.
"I'm not sure," Shichijo replied.
Interesting. Hideaki smirked and reached out to pull Shichijo's shirt free from his pants. He slid his hand beneath the layers of material - vest, shirt… until he felt skin, and then he slid his hand around the Second Year's waist and drew him closer until their chests touched and he could feel the shake in Shichijo's breathing and the younger boy's interest stiffening against his thigh.
"How about now?" he purred. He shifted his hand to lightly scratch Shichijo's back and was rewarded when Shichijo actually squeaked and fumbled slightly as if both trying to pull away and also get closer. There was a lovely pink colour blossoming on the junior's cheeks. Behind them, Hideaki heard Tetsuya clear his throat and get up to walk further away, towards the desk. Good. Maybe he'll actually do some work today.
"I… yes," Shichijo admitted finally, and his body seemed to relax with his admission. Hideaki ran his fingernails down his back a second time, savouring how Shichijo trembled in his arms. Despite all that ice cream, his body wasn't as soft as Hideaki had suspected, but it was a little, and Hideaki liked the pliancy. Although Shichijo wasn't a woman and Hideaki was well aware of the other's ruthlessly cruel streak from their hacking battles, he suddenly felt less inclined to treat him as roughly as he usually treated his sexual partners.
For example, this called for a different venue.
"Tetsuya," he called back.
"Um… yep?" Tetsuya sounded both distracted and a little wary.
"I might not be back. Something's come up." He smirked at Shichijo, who wasn't looking at him, but was still practically buried against him and very, very hard.
"I'll say," Tetsuya grumbled.
Hideaki chuckled and separated his body from Shichijo's to begin straightening the junior's clothing a bit. Can't have everyone see him looking this cute. He winked at the other boy. "Come with me."
They walked back to the dormitories. Initially, Shichijo made to fall back and follow Hideaki, but when Hideaki glared at him, he seemed to get the message as he drew alongside him and they walked the rest of the way with their sleeves occasionally touching.
Once in the dormitory, Hideaki showed him into his room, shook his head at Shinomiya who - always alert to potential trouble in the hall - was watching them from the foyer, then entered and shut and locked the door.
He turned to see Shichijo standing in his bedroom, looking distinctly awkward. And adorable and very overdressed as far as Hideaki was concerned.
"Forgive me for not getting you another sweet," Hideaki commented as he approached him. "But I think you might have come before we got here if I had."
"I'm not a girl, Nakajima-senpai."
Hideaki laughed. Another line from Saionji. "Hide," he corrected, taking off his blazer and hanging it up. He reached for Shichijo's and was pleased when the junior followed suit and handed him his blazer. After hanging that up too, Hideaki walked over and guided Shichijo to the bed, pushing him down, one hand at the neck of his tie for leverage.
NHSO/NHSO/NHSO/NHSO
Omi stared up at Nakajima. Although he was almost as tall as the older boy when standing, it seemed that when lying beneath him, Nakajima was far taller and broader than him. His hands and mouth and body certainly seemed to be everywhere.
Certainly, he's done this before, he thought, and then he wondered: Should I have listened to Kaoru? Can I really trust this smirking, arrogant, playboy type? And then, when he felt fingernails raking down his flanks and grip his hips - when had his trousers and underpants come off? When had Nakajima shifted between his legs? - his breath hitched and he lost his train of thought, gasping when his cock was suddenly engulfed by that hot, wet, cutting mouth, which proceeded to deep throat him. He couldn't see Nakajima's face like this, was all he thought, and all he could feel besides that searing warmth was the deep quilt crumpled beneath his palms. And then his orgasm struck and he slumped, staring bonelessly up at the ceiling, for a few seconds his mind completely still.
A deep chuckle pulled him from his meditation, and as he looked down, he saw Nakajima - shirtless - crawl up over him to straddle him and begin unfastening Omi's shirt. The other boy was broad and sinewy. Omi hadn't seen him naked since the swim day at the start of the year and he hadn't sought to admire him then. Now he stared dazedly, raptured by the smoothness and assuredness of the older boy's movements, at the visible erection through the older boy's trousers.
Nakajima grinned at him and leaned down to kiss him firmly. His mouth tasted like Omi's spend.
"You've a sweet voice," he said when he drew back. His voice was husky. "But disappointing endurance. We'll have to work on that." He pecked him lightly. "Lie still. I want to play with you."
"What?" But Omi understood when he felt warm fingers grasp his left nipple and pinch him. Hard. He yelped and would have withdrawn were not for Nakajima straddling him and the older boy's other hand pressing into the centre of his chest. He huffed, too tired still from cumming to verbally protest. Above him, Nakajima smirked at his expression and bent his head to the smarting nipple to lave the inflamed site with his tongue. His free hand, meanwhile, drifted down to explore Omi's left flank - rubbing, pinching lightly, and scratching as it drifted across his abdomen, side, and hip. At every flinch, every minute shudder, the hand would pause and retrace its path to identify the source of sensitivity, and Nakajima would glance down at his fingertips and then back - amusedly - to meet Omi's eyes. After a while, he swapped his hands to explore Omi's right side. And by now, Omi was hard again, huffing quietly under the older boy's handling, his own hands gripping Nakajima's thighs, still too nervous to reach out and touch the clothed erection facing him.
He must have been staring at it, though, because Nakajima then said, quietly, "Are you just going to look at it?"
Omi blinked and looked up at the other's face. His face burned. "I've never done this before."
Nakajima snorted, smirking. "You're so cute." Leaning down, he kissed Omi again and then leaned across him to open the topmost drawer of the bedside table. "Let's do something else, then." A tube of lube landed on the bed near Omi's head, closely followed by a condom. Then Nakajima grabbed a pillow, settled back between Omi's legs, and - with a lift and shove - Omi's rear was raised to face him.
Omi flushed harder. This was beyond embarrassing, but his penis - slut that it was - surged. He looked up at the ceiling. He heard Nakajima's belt clasp open and the slide of trousers as Nakajima shucked them. Then the ripping open of a plastic packet and for a few seconds, silence. Then a hand squeezed the underside of his thigh, warm and steady, slippery and cold with lube. Moist lips brushed lightly against his raised left kneecap.
Omi looked down at his lover. He glanced at Nakajima's erection, which was jutting stiffly out between the older boy's broad thighs. It was bigger than he had expected. He was surprised at his lack of nervousness. This guy has done it before and his lovers always come back to him. He knows what he's doing. He's probably the best sex tutor in the school by that standard.
He looked up at Nakajima's face. The other boy was smiling slightly. "This might be uncomfortable, Omi. But it shouldn't hurt. Tell me if it does and I'll slow down." He leaned forward, then paused and added, his smirk widening, "You look magnificent, by the way."
That seemed to break the ice. Omi chuckled nervously, and - with a light laugh - Nakajima slid two slick fingers straight inside of his entrance. His movements were slow, but purposeful, his digits twisting and scissoring inside the intimate space. Every now and again, he glanced at Omi's flushed face, as if to check that he still had permission for what he was doing and about to do, and that he wasn't causing him too much pain. After what must have been a few minutes, he added a third finger.
It wasn't painful, but it wasn't exactly comfortable either, was Omi's initial assessment. Certainly, he didn't find it pleasurable and it was only thanks to Nakajima's other hand wrapping around his erection and massaging him gently that his discomfort didn't cause his hardness to wilt.
But then the fingers inside him suddenly crooked at an angle and brushed up against something deep inside his channel that made Omi jerk and cry out. His penis twitched; he clutched at the sheets.
Nakajima laughed lowly and, just as he had done earlier with his exploration of Omi's flanks, now he began teasing this area inside of him, rubbing over this newfound spot over and over again until Omi was twisting against the bedsheets and sweating, huffing barely audible curses, his erection jerking of its own accord. "Very, very nice. Kohai," he commented. His voice had changed, become rougher, Omi thought, and then he suddenly he wasn't pondering sounds anymore as he suddenly felt something else, something biggerat his entrance. It pushed into him - long and deep - and abruptly pain - raw and shuddering and sharp - encompassed his entire awareness. He squirmed, tensing, huffing, eyes tearing, as Nakajima withdrew slightly. Hadn't he said that it wouldn't hurt? He had lied! The bastard had... Oh! But he had to tell him that it hurt for him to know…
And then Nakajima thrust back into him and brushed up against that place that made a thrill of delight ripple up Omi's spine, and Omi's fears subsided. And then the Vice President did it again and again. And Omi was murmuring and gasping now in helpless pleasure and pulling the older boy closer to him, clutching tightly at those warm, damp, tense limbs. And then that wave of ecstasy had come again and with a cry, he fell back to the bed. He felt Nakajima stiffen against him shortly afterwards.
Nakajima withdrew, pulled off the condom - chucking it across the room at the bin: into which, to Omi's amusement, it landed exactly, and then the older boy crawled off him. Easing the pillow out from Omi's behind, he plumped it at the head of the bed beside Omi's and lay down beside him on his back.
Omi rolled over and nosed his shoulder, and was surprised and pleased when Nakajima snorted and put his arm around him, running his hand carelessly through Omi's hair.
They stayed like that for a while, maybe twenty minutes. As he nuzzled against the older boy, Omi absently scanned the side of the room beyond Nakajima: the orderly bookshelves, the CD player surrounded by jazz CDs, the family photo frame on the desk of a middle-aged man and woman, a younger woman and Hideaki looking a little younger than he was now.
Nakajima didn't sleep or talk to him. He occasionally pressed a kiss to the top of Omi's head, but he looked like he was battling falling asleep. Omi wouldn't have minded if he had fallen asleep - he would have gladly fallen asleep next to him.
But then Nakajima suddenly rose and went to the bathroom. Minutes after he had disappeared into the room, Nakajima's phone rang in the pocket of his pants on the floor. Omi leaned over and retrieved the device. It was Kurosawa. He answered it just as the phone's owner came out of the bathroom.
"Hello?"
"Hideaki-kun?"
"No, it's Shichijo-san, Sir. I'm with Nakajima-senpai now. No, he's here." He held out the phone to the older boy, who frowned and held it to his ear. Omi flopped down onto his back.
"Nakajima. Yes. No, it's not a good time." He glanced at Omi and smirked at him. "Shichijo and I are working on the project. We'll be occupied for a while." He sat down on the bed beside Omi and reached out to begin playing with his nipples, his smirk widening when Omi whimpered.
"It's going well," Nakajima continued, his eyes not leaving Omi's. "We're hoping to run the prototype through simulations the Wednesday after next. I'm waiting on the hospital for approval and will check with the Chairman after I've obtained their consent, but I don't anticipate any problems." His hand slid down to wrap around Omi's stiffening cock and he began jerking him off.
"Yes. Really? I'm surprised to hear that you found nothing. I agree; that's the only alternative. I'll speak to you later." Then he turned off the phone and climbed back onto the bed. "Now," he said quietly, "let's see you make that cute face again."
NHSO/NHSO/NHSO/NHSO
Shichijo slept overnight in his room. Early the next morning, Hideaki shortened his karate practice and - on his way to breakfast (Omi had returned to his own room to freshen up) - went to see Kurosawa in the man's office before classes started.
The teacher was preparing quizzes for the Second Years. He looked up and smiled when he saw Hideaki standing at the door of his office. "Nakajima-kun," he greeted.
"Apologies. Shichijo and I worked late, and I didn't want to arouse his suspicions," Hideaki said by way of an excuse as he approached. "I'm sorry that you had no luck finding anything incriminating on the Treasury computer."
Kurosawa scratched his balding head. "Yes, well everything must be on his personal laptop. You said that he has had it for at least four years, so it might be the one he used to hack with prior to coming to the academy. Does he ever leave it around?"
Hideaki frowned. Last night he did, although he left it in a locked room that even Shinomiya can't get into with his master key card. "Rarely."
"Well, we'll need to have a look at it, Nakajima-kun," the teacher said thoughtfully. "Even if we don't find evidence of hacking into BL Academy's admission papers, we'll at least find the original malware programs that periodically cripple the Student Council Office's computer. That should be enough to question his admission here in the board's eyes, though it'd be ideal if his grades were poorer."
Nakajima glanced at the clock on the wall. He'd have to head to breakfast soon or Tetsuya… and perhaps Omi too, would question his whereabouts.
"Japanese is his worst subject," he revealed. "Also, last night he mentioned struggling with a politics essay that's worth a significant percentage of his grade for the year. It's due on Friday."
"I'll look into it," Kurosawa said. "I'd like you to work on obtaining his computer." He tutted. "You should go before anyone notices anything amiss."
Nakajima nodded. "I'll see you tomorrow in class, Sir."