Disclaimer: I do not own Junjou Romantica or any of its characters.
Minimum Damage
Minimum Damage
Akihiko (Age Sixteen): Summer Lessons
Akihiko opened his eyes slowly.
He sighed realizing he must have dozed off. That he'd managed to sleep in the midst of such insufferable heat surprised him.
I must have been really knackered.
Long slender fingers plucked at a bit of the crumpled sheets surrounding him. The humidity had stolen their crispness and left them feeling slightly sodden. His own bare flesh had fallen victim to the heavy air as well and Akihiko realized there wasn't an inch of him that didn't feel either slick or sticky.
He lay there on the futon, not ready to rise yet. Beneath the soft weight of thick blond lashes, his pale eyes drifted; their usual sharpness dulled by his lethargy.
Akihiko watched the languid dance of dust motes illuminated by the slivers of sun stealing in through the cracks of the drawn blinds. In this moment, he resonated with this particulate: he felt himself a multitude of tiny bits, spinning, suspended, scattered.
Perhaps there is a sentence here somewhere.
He was like a minimalist sculptor these days with his words, seeking to reduce them to their purest essence: stripping down, carving away, striving to reveal infinite complexity through something exceedingly simple.
He yawned and shifted.
Brushing the palm of his hand over his cheek, Akihiko frowned at the new sensation of small patches of stubble scattered amidst his sixteen-year-old down. He had shaved for the first time over a week ago and not since.
As his father was off on business, Tanaka had taught him how.
He's always away… Even when he's here.
Pushing the familiar melancholy aside, Akihiko recalled some of the darker European guests gathered around his grandfather's gaming table back in England. Men who sported an "after five" shadow fifteen minutes past setting their razors down in the morning.
Considering this, he was grateful for his own sparse hair, if this was to be the extent of it. As a genetic return on the results of his parents' unfortunate investment in each other, however, this was still a very poor benefit indeed.
Even so, Akihiko had already decided he preferred his skin smooth. Also he was secretly in no hurry to be a man.
It all seems so cumbersome… And not just the shaving.
Closing his eyes again, Akihiko relished the fact that his palm was cool against his cheek, regardless of how fevered the rest of his flesh felt. He sighed and without opening his eyes, swung himself up into a seated position, hoping that just perhaps, when he did open them, his world would look different, transformed somehow.
However, as his head was bowed, when his lids at last unclenched the first thing Akihiko saw was his relaxed cock.
A flicker of emotion sped across his usually impassive face as he studied his unruly organ. There was no doubt this splendid bit of his anatomy had been terrifically altering his life of late.
But this was not the shift he sought.
If anything, in fact, he'd been hoping for something considerably more positive.
Akihiko reached a hand down and pinched his penis lightly between his forefinger and thumb, just behind its hooded head, and lifted it.
You look so humble at the moment, you troublesome bastard.
He frowned down at the part of him that had not long ago been standing so proud and demanding. The hand not holding himself rubbed absentmindedly over the hot flesh of his stomach and chest.
The late afternoon air was so sultry that the traces of his cock's most recent exclamations still shone, slightly sticky on his salty skin. Akihiko marveled at the lingering sense of lightness in his balls from this. They'd felt so full-blooded and heavy just before his climax.
He released his limp shaft before it recognized his touch and stirred again.
Both of Akihiko's hands drifted to the edge of the futon. Here, he clasped the sheets tight, balling his fists, rolling the fabric between them as a form of ablution.
Turning his head to the side, he felt a black flower bloom in his stomach when he noted a few spots on the white linens already dulled to rust.
That's my blood.
If I were a girl I would no longer be 'pure.'
As a boy, however, Akihiko had known from the age of five that his nature had already stripped any purity from him.
I've been soiled since birth.
Looking away from the rumpled sheets quickly and down at lean legs sparsely furred with the lightest of blond hairs, Akihiko's uncomfortable gaze eventually came to rest. He studied the pale length of his over-sized feet, viewing them as though they belonged to another person: alabaster appendages veined with blue just beneath their surface.
Then a sentence came to him.
Akihiko pushed himself up suddenly unaware of anything but the words.
He did not feel the stretch of his limbs, the light shifts of his naked cock and his sac as he stepped, the lingering burn or the sticky drip that gravity pulled from between his legs as he'd stood.
He moved over to the table where all his summer studies were laid out.
Ignoring these, he picked up a leather-bound notebook, opened it to a blank sheet, and picked up a pen.
Within moments he had managed to pin this new arrangement of words to the page. He studied them with a mixture of pleasure and sorrow like an entomologist looking at glassed box of particularly stunning butterflies.
Then a noise caught his attention. He moved over to the window, this time far more aware of all his various aches. Pulling back the blinds slightly, he gloried in the bit of breeze that slipped in through the screen. Its fingers brushed back the fine damp hairs from his forehead.
Akihiko followed them with his own.
Through the raised panes he saw Hiroki in the distance, storming down the path towards the main house, Alexander snapping at his heels. The noise that had drawn his attention was the cacophony of the puppy's barks and Hiroki's furious curses.
Akihiko smiled inwardly at this.
Why is it that, as keen as Hiroki is, he never seems to figure out that the more he fusses, the more it just stirs Alexander up?
His internal grin slipped away with the retreating breeze when he heard another noise to the side of him as the remaining figure on the futon shifted.
"My Golden Boy, do you know how beautiful you look right now? Bathed in light, pale and lean. Glistening… With my come still visible on your inner thighs."
Akihiko ignored the voice, despising these humiliating disclosures couched as praise.
"Hiroki's here."
"I haven't released you from your lessons yet."
The imperiousness with which this statement was delivered rankled Akihiko and he felt himself bristle.
"Tanaka will tell young master Kamijou where you are and you know he'll wait in your room for hours.
"Come back to bed."
Dropping the blinds, in quiet rebellion, Akihiko moved back over to the table instead. He picked up a pack of cigarettes from its surface, tapped one out, and lit up. He was pleased to be able to execute this whole maneuver without his traitorous fingers shaking. His first exhalation however was not so steady.
"I didn't care much for today's lesson, Sensei."
"Ah, Darling, I can see I was a bit rougher than perhaps I should have been."
A large hand patted the mattress, not far from the incriminating stains, beckoning.
"Come on… I'll be gentler this time and I swear, My Love, tomorrow you can do me."
Akihiko frowned, but the repeat of this enticing, broken promise moved him a step closer to the bed.
"I'm terrible, but I just needed a refill of my Aki-chan so badly I couldn't hold back. Come on, be a good boy now."
Seeing the strength of the desire in the man's eyes Akihiko crossed his arms protectively over his broadening chest and stayed where he stood.
"I don't feel like it at the moment."
"Hah! Your mouth says one thing, Aki, but that lewd body of yours betrays you. Now come here."
He didn't need to look down to know this was true. Akihiko could feel the heated blush creeping over him, pinking his pale skin. His nipples were already hard beneath the cross of his lean arms; his cock growing bigger with each throbbing pulse.
He hated how deeply the low tones and the powerful delivery of the man's voice moved him. He felt himself propelled to the edge of the bed against his will.
No sooner had he reached this, than strong arms pulled him down to its damp surface.
"Oi, mind my cigarette!"
Thick fingers plucked the fag from his thin ones. Akihiko watched mournfully as it was crushed out in the ashtray on the bedside table after a quick puff between new lips.
"You're too young to start smoking, it's a filthy habit."
Stronger hands than his then gripped Akihiko's wrists, moved, and pinned them over his head.
"And you'd do well to mind your tone with your elders, Aki."
Akihiko stilled. He kept his face blank at the truer hardness visible just beneath his tutor's honeyed shallows.
When I am free from this place I will mind no one.
Feeling the firmness of this resolve, he allowed the breath he'd been holding to slip silently out from his nose.
His seeming surrender caused the hold on his wrists to ever so slightly relax.
"I must remember to thank your father for allowing me to stay in the garden house. It's so much more conducive to your summer studies than the main house would have been."
The voice hovering above Akihiko was thick with satisfaction.
Akihiko turned his head away from the dark eyes that ravished him more deeply than the cock that had been in his ass just an hour before.
"If he was really a good host, he would have at least put in some air-conditioning."
Pale eyes drifting, Akihiko studied the dancing motes again: his movement to the bed had reinvigorated them. He wondered if any of these were the same ones he'd observed earlier, still suspended, still spinning.
"So delicate, My Boy.
"Braving the elements, sweat and blood and come, these are revelries of manhood polite society steals: the honest sensations of our bodies stripped from us."
A hot tongue laved against Akihiko's nipple underscoring this point. Akihiko closed his eyes against the electric prickle this touch elicited, the tip of his nipple already raw from earlier worryings. He turned his head back to center, eyes still closed, and felt his wrists finally released completely as the graying head of his summer tutor slipped down lower.
"I do love you, Aki-chan."
The confession rumbled against the beading flesh of Akihiko's chest before the man's mouth focused on a different means of articulation.
As he lay there, arms still stretched over his head, Akihiko sighed once before his cock overtook him.
In all my wild imaginings I never envisioned that this is what one might consider love looked like.
He thought of Hiroki pulling a book from the shelves in his room, patiently waiting while he finished his "summer lessons."
Before the flood of rising bodily sensations drowned out his cognition, once more Akihiko wished that when he opened his eyes his world might look different.
But he knew already it was a wish without any hope behind it.
He sighed again between gasps and succumbed.
I was always curious about Akihiko and his tutor.