[FIC] Gakuen Heaven: Surfacing: Game
And we finally updated. I swear, the editing process tends to take longer than writing the darn thing itself. xD
Surfacing: Game
- a sequel to Practically
Authors: kagayachou and the_dw
Characters/Pairings: Shichijo/Nakajima, Shichijo/Saionji, Nakajima->Niwa implied
Rating: NC-17
Words: 7000
Summary: Nakajima has a ‘confession’ to make, but neither he nor Shichijo ever saw this coming. Now, who was hunter and who was prey?
Warnings: Hatesex, violence, blood.
"Shichijo," Nakajima said, stepping up behind the silver-haired boy's chair as the latter hunched over the computer. He put his hands on Shichijo's shoulder, spinning him around and pinning him against the wooden desk.
Smirking at the surprised reaction, Nakajima leaned in, whispering in Shichijo's ear: "You're mine."
Pain shot up Shichijo's spine and for a moment, he thought he'd misheard. But if that was the case, why would Nakajima push him back, and come so close? Before he could stop himself, Shichijo gaped, violet eyes for once open, mouth slack; a sudden vulnerability knocking his oft-smiling mask from his face.
Nakajima leaned even closer, one hand stroking down Shichijo's body to grasp a hip, holding the other boy in place as his other hand cup a pale cheek. He blew a breath into Shichijo's ear, chuckling lowly.
"You have beautiful eyes. You shouldn't hide them with that smile, Shichijo. You're mine and mine alone - my rival," his thumb brushed along the line of a high cheekbone, "my enemy, and... my lover." He ran his teeth over the shell of the ear, "There is a very thin line between love and hate."
Shichijo's eyebrows shot up, and he felt the air being slowly crushed out of his lungs. Nakajima wasn't acting within expectations. Or at least, not within expectations towards Shichijo himself. This had to be a joke.
"Ho..." Shichijo tilted his chin up with a reassured smile, daring, almost allowing their lips to touch. "Is there really?"
Violet eyes narrowed, anger and suspicion blatant beneath silver eyelashes; there was quite an obvious reason why Shichijo so often kept his eyes hidden. His voice however, remained soft and unwaveringly calm.
"Oh, I don't doubt that you hate me, Nakajima." He stopped his rival's wandering fingers with a hand clamped around his wrist. As he moved that hand aside, he continued, "But there's a distinct lack of respect for my private space that detracts from claims of love, don't you think?"
"But not from claims from possession," Nakajima countered, rather amused now. He liked that look in Shichijo's eyes. He hated Shichijo because of how he always masked himself in that fake smile, hiding his real face and refusing to let anyone read him. It frustrated Nakajima to no end. But now... now he had tangible proof that Shichijo was indeed affected, despite that calm voice.
"I've said it before, haven't I? You're mine. It is you who hate me; I am simply irritated and frustrated by you - emotions that are nowhere as strong as the hatred you obviously felt for me," Nakajima's voice was logical and reasonable and sultry all at the same time. "You love me, Shichijo. What is wrong with claiming what is mine?"
Shichijo just looked at him, then laughed. "You're so horrible, Nakajima," he dropped his voice to a silken, flirtatious whisper, mouth curving deliberately into a sickening sweet smile. "So horrible a liar that is. Or perhaps you need new glasses, because I've already pledged myself to another, or have I not been clear enough with my behavior towards Kaoru?"
That said, he dropped Nakajima's hand, and made to push him off, schooling his face once more. "If you'll excuse me..."
Nakajima stepped backwards a little, the smirk on his face turning even more predatory, if that was even possible. "You're running away," he stated, tone almost musing as he stroked his fingers across that pale chin. "You're avoiding the subject too... I can see your mask taking over again." He traced a finger over the fake smile, pressing against the plush lips. "Don't. I like it better when you're honest. If you truly believe that you belong solely to Saionji... then why are you hiding?"
He splayed a hand over Shichijo's abdomen, scraping his fingers downwards until he was rubbing against Shichijo's groin again. His voice was casual when he spoke, "Besides, Saionji hadn't claimed you yet, nor have you told him that you are his. A Queen's Knight is not a Queen's lover, and I will still allow you to serve him when you're mine."
Shichijo froze. Then the corners of his lips turned down. He shot Nakajima a look of pure violent disgust. He could barely keep his body from cringing back more at such an intimate invasion, nor could he now allow himself to 'run away' from him. "Hands off, Nakajima," he settled for a grip around the other boy's wrist again, tighter this time. "I've no interest in playing this game with you."
Nakajima decided to try another tactic, since this one wasn't working for his purposes. He raised an eyebrow, stepping back fully, enough to give Shichijo mobility, but not enough to let him run away. Pulling his wrist back, he said, "Oh? Then I shall stop playing games and be honest, then, since you're being so honest with me.
"I like you when you're fighting me like this, without masks. That fake smile distorts your face, do you know that? You're beautiful when you're angry, like you're now. You have fire in you, Shichijo, and courage, and the sheer guts to stand up to me. That's what I like about you. That's why I want you to be mine," Nakajima let the smirk soften into a smaller, more genuine smile, a little down-turned and self-deprecating. "Perhaps I had went about it in a wrong way with you, but I am sincere about this." He took Shichijo's hand into his, kissing the back of it like a Knight would a Queen.
"Is that too much to ask for?"
In the resulting silence, Shichijo went from angry to utterly floored. His eyes widened as a dreadful realization sank in: Nakajima could be serious. But Shichijo couldn't, for the life of him, figure out what he was supposed to say to Nakajima in response.
He started shaking his head in disbelief, then quickly nodded instead when it occurred to him that his answer could be mistaken. "You're still lying," he insisted, but his eyes betrayed his shock and doubt. "This is a bad joke."
What do I need to do to convince you that I'm serious, Shichijo?" Nakajima almost demanded, frowning. "Because I am deadly serious about this. Do you want me to kneel, perhaps? Or beg? To strip myself of all my pride and dignity just so you will be mine? Is that what you want? Tell me."
He leaned forward, almost but not quite pressing his body against Shichijo's. "Tell me, Shichijo. Tell me what I have to do to get you to believe me."
"I hate you." The words came out in a whisper, and they seemed to be all Shichijo could manage on such short notice. He sounded younger, more confused, and he couldn't seem to take his eyes away from this strange person who looked and sounded like his rival - but also looked and sounded completely different.
Slowly, a smirk spread over Nakajima's lips, and he stepped away from Shichijo quickly enough that it was as if close contact burnt him. "I'm glad you still think so, because I hate you too," he drawled, looking into those confused, doubtful violet eyes that had swallowed his false words like they were honey. He had gotten too carried away in the joke, so much that he had almost believed it himself, but... it had worked, didn't it? Shichijo believed him, and was shaken up enough to show such a vulnerable expression. Hide's lips twitch.
That Shichijo believed him despite his overall uncharacteristic behavior, despite Nakajima being over-the-top and ridiculous... it was hilarious. Nakajima let out a small chuckle, then lost control over himself and just laughed, covering his mouth with a hand as he doubled over, eyes never leaving Shichijo's face. To know that Shichijo's resistance is so easily worn down by pretty words... pretty words that the other boy probably used on others himself... it amused him beyond words.
’Do unto others what you want to be done unto you,’ indeed.
Shichijo stared. 'Oh. Of course,' he thought dully, his stomach gradually settling back down where it was supposed to be. 'I'd forgotten myself, and who this jerk is.' Laughing at him. Nakajima, laughing, because it really was funny, wasn't it? For shame. Shichijo never thought Nakajima would go that far just to score a point against him. His brows creased. Maybe his stomach dropped too far, because there was a hollow feeling in his middle now, and his fingers twitched like he wanted to lash out at the target in front of him.
Or hit himself.
'How... silly of me.'
He needed to do some re-evaluations - about Nakajima, as well as himself. How could he fall for such...
'You're mine... You love me... You have beautiful eyes. You shouldn't hide them with that smile... I like you when you're fighting me... when you're angry...'
It was wrong. So wrong. It wasn't the way they fought. They had occupied a completely different battleground. 'I am sincere about this... deadly serious,' Nakajima had said, and now this.
Well, two could play at that game.
Shichijo started to scowl, but caught himself. His smile came out instead, but it was a different, long-unused one, a bitter grimace that drew upon the hurt that he'd filed away since middle school.
"Congratulations. I am angry. Now leave me alone."
"Do you really want me to?" Nakajima said, an eyebrow still raised and lips dancing in stifled laughter. He savored the look of bitter hatred on Shichijo's face. Well, he had certainly broken Shichijo's mask this time, and it gave him a sense of triumph. If things continued in this vein... if Shichijo stopped being so fake and started being honest with his feelings to the world and stopped hiding behind that ugly, obvious mask... Nakajima might even like him.
He shrugged, "You seemed to like the idea that I want you just fine. Have I struck a nerve there?" He crossed his arms, taunting, "Or is it the truth that I had struck?"
"Oh, it was a dream come true," Shichijo responded with that sweet venomous sarcasm of his even though he couldn't seem to pull that smile back on his face. "I was just about ready to praise all the gods I could think of and offer them ritual sacrifices at the thought that you'd been possessed by a ghost, and that I would never had to deal with your company again, because you wouldn't be you."
He certainly looked like he meant his words too.
“You don't have to go as far as to offer ritual sacrifices," Nakajima said mock-mildly, his tone as poisonous as Shichijo. But he sounded amused as well, as if he was humoring the other boy's little fantasies. "All you have to do is ask, Shichijo, and I can be... possessed if you want me to.
"Of course," he continued maliciously, "that might be just a little pathetic of you, don't you think?" He stepped closer, reaching out a hand to stroke through silver hair, petting a pale cheek condescendingly. "If you really want that treatment, why don't you tell Saionji how you truly feel, na? Instead of throwing him at me as ammunition."
With that last word, Nakajima gave the other boy Shichijo's usual smile, as false as fool's gold, and spun on his heel, walking away, still chuckling.
Shichijo glowered, had the distinct need to take a shower and wash the feel of Nakajima's grimy hands off of his body. Tearing his eyes from his retreating back, he turned and silently picked up his chair, pushing it back against the table. He didn't need to sit down again after all. Just leaned over it, tapped the keyboard to wake the computer from sleep mode, then saved and shutdown.
***
Nakajima remained smug for a week after his prank on the school. Out of everyone he had tried the line on, Shichijo’s reaction remained the most amusing. Niwa's was expected, while Saionji wasn't fooled at all. Shinomiya was still avoiding him even after a week; Iwai had somehow gained a little more confidence after it, for reasons Nakajima could not fathom. Taki... a frown crossed Nakajima's countenance before he shook his head. Well, the problem with the Vice Chairman was certainly solved now, and quite satisfactorily, in fact.
Meanwhile, after that prank last week, Shichijo had walked back to the Treasury Room with a subconscious frown, which made people stare. But since he was used to drawing odd looks and double takes on a semi-regular basis, he paid them no heed. Saionji Kaoru however took one look at his best friend and practically ran over, asking worriedly if he was alright. Of course, Shichijo explained that he'd simply been in unpleasant company, that he was fine now, and going to make tea seemed like a good idea, didn't it? Yes, he'd go make tea.
Except the redhead had then reached out and cupped his cheeks, searching his face with such curiosity and concern in those beautiful green eyes.
'Is there something on my face, Kaoru?'
Saionji shook his head, smoothed his thumbs over Shichijo's cheeks. "I missed seeing your eyes, Omi... but you're upset. You're really upset about something. What is it? Tell me."
And so he did.
And so he found out that Nakajima had gone to practically everyone they knew, and said the exact same words - "You're mine" - as a joke.
Saionji laughed about it, so Shichijo smiled - or at least he tried, but all he managed to do was close his eyes, only to quickly remember that Saionji missed seeing them. Finally, he just looked back at the redhead, nodded, and repeated, "I'll go make tea," after which his best friend wisely dropped the subject.
Saionji had been waiting for Shichijo to pick it up again all week.
***
Nakajima followed Niwa to the school canteen, trailing half a step behind as always. He spotted Shichijo and Saionji, and smirked. The former still hadn't managed to paste back on his smiling mask and, to be quite honest with himself, Nakajima liked him better this way. Shichijo's words were no longer coated with that layer of civility and politeness - instead, he was brutally honest and brutally insulting now, especially to Nakajima.
Their verbal spars had certainly gotten even more interesting.
Nakajima walked over to the table that the Treasury had practically claimed as their own, the smirk widening as he stopped in front of Shichijo, "So the Queen and his dog had decided to grace us with their presence today." His tone was mocking, "I'm disappointed in you, Shichijo. You didn't even retaliate against this morning's attack properly."
Shichijo graced Nakajima with a disdainful tilt of his head, eyes focused on the amount of sugar he was spooning into his tea. He could feel Saionji’s worried stare, but it wasn't the redhead Nakajima was addressing.
"That so-called attack didn't merit much attention, Nakajima." He looked up when he was satisfied and stirring. "If I could simply block and walk away from the computer with its contents unscathed, then it's you who are slipping, but you don't find me complain about that now, do you? Saa, didn't expect much from you in the first place."
Nakajima nodded, as if acquiescing to that point, "But are your contents truly unscathed, Shichijo? Have you been so sloppy now that you can't recognize or predict the damage done by my attack?" Because that attack did have consequences, which apparently Shichijo wasn't aware of. Nakajima sincerely doubted that. "As expected of a dog which can only bark and can't bite because of the muzzle around its mouth."
He spun on his heel and walked to the next table, sitting down on the bench languidly. Had Shichijo discovered the rerouting of several rather important pieces of data that the Treasury needed in order to function? If he hadn't, then Nakajima would be sorely disappointed.
But then, Shichijo didn't feel like letting him know that he did, because the thought of responding now felt far too much like he needed to report his findings to the bastard. Instead, Shichijo simply turned back to Saionji, raising an eyebrow. "Can I bite him?" Briefly, he contemplated drawing blood.
"Have the dog turned rabid now?" Nakajima remarked mildly, almost rhetorically. He waved away Niwa's attempt to stop him from goading Shichijo. Why should he? He was having too much fun with this, especially since Shichijo was finally fighting fire with fire, poison with poison, and his barbs had strengthened. Nakajima did always love conflict, whether physical or mental.
"Keep a stronger leash on him, Saionji, or he might just carry out his threat. Matsuoka-sensei would not be pleased."
Saionji finished his tea and dabbed his lips with a napkin. "I'm not pleased by either of you," he said, standing up and stepping away from his seat because it was directly between the two rivals. The tension made Niwa's presence the preferable alternative.
"And Omi, you are not my dog."
Shichijo blinked. The cafeteria suddenly seemed quieter. After a long silence, he replied gently, "You've never rejected Nakajima's words before..."
"Why are you directing your words to him, Saionji?" Nakajima cut in before Saionji could answer, sounding both honestly curious and mocking at the same time. "But I guess it would make sense, wouldn't it? He was the one who shamelessly admitted that he belonged to you, after all."
He paused, cocking his head to the side, "If you detest the word dog that much, would slave be better?"
Niwa sat down opposite Nakajima, silent for once. He was not going to be involved in this. There was a strange tension between Shichijo and Nakajima that extended beyond their rivalry recently, and Saionji seemed to be caught up in it too. Niwa wanted to find out what exactly it was.
Saionji glanced at Nakajima, willing him to stop goading his best friend. A week of worry and mystery and not one smile on Shichijo's face for the entire time; honestly, he'd had as much as he could stand!
"I'm telling Omi this, because he doesn't defend himself whenever you say these things, and I should have said something a long time ago," he said before turning back to Shichijo. "So don't ask me if you're allowed to... bite him or..." Saionji crossed his arms over his chest, brows creased with aggravation. "Never mind," he shook his head and picked up his tray.
Nakajima snorted quietly. Looked like Shichijo wouldn't be responding to him any time soon, since Saionji had... approved and disapproved of the situation in such a spectacular way. Shichijo was probably going to stare after the other boy for a long amount of time and think and generally be useless as a verbal sparring partner. Nakajima rolled his eyes; those two, while some of the most intelligent students in the school, could be more idiotic and blind than Niwa sometimes. He didn't understand why they couldn't just talk to each other already and solve this whole situation.
But it wasn't his place to interfere anyway. He sighed, standing up and stuffing his hands in his pockets, "I'm going back." He shrugged, "Our entertainment had left with his owner, and there is more work to do. Niwa."
However, the King too had gone off.
"Kaoru-chan? ... Kaoru!"
As Niwa's back fell in Shichijo's line of vision, the silver haired boy looked back down at his tray and decided he just wasn't hungry anymore. His eyes settled upon Nakajima for a solid second, but he remained silent, and put away his tray.
***
Another week passed before Nakajima met Shichijo face-to-face once more, this time completely alone and far away from both the Student Council and the Treasury. He had seen the other boy approaching when he turned the corner, so he leaned against the wall of the hallway, watching with half-lidded eyes as Shichijo came closer. Well, he was already bored anyway. Straightening, he smirked as Shichijo went pass him.
"What is a dog wandering about without its master? Has he finally broken free of his leash?" There was still no fake smile on Shichijo's face, Nakajima noted, and felt oddly pleased at it. No more of that detestable mask that shadowed Shichijo's true self.
There was a sharp pause when Shichijo halted in the corridor, not saying a word despite the fact that he'd obviously heard Nakajima. His back was ramrod straight, his poise the picture of perfect calm.
A half turn back, and violet eyes met dark blue. Shichijo asked him, voice soft as tender poison,” What do I have to do to convince you to leave me alone?"
"I wasn't aware that you wanted to be left alone," Nakajima said, and his tone would have been believably mild and inoffensive if not for the casually insulting lilt to it; the small smirk at the corner of his lips; the completely open posture, as if to say that Shichijo wasn't worthwhile enough for him to even try to defend himself, just in case. "Perhaps if you stopped following Saionji like a little puppy that had lost its mother and learn to read what he wants you to know, I might just leave you alone. Or I might not."
He shrugged, crossing his arms over his chest and leaning against the wall again, "You are far too fun to bait. If I left you alone, then where would I get my entertainment from?"
"You poor wretch." Shichijo sneered. "I would pity you if your only source of entertainment really did come from me nowadays." He bridged the distance between them in three easy strides, eyes cold and bright with the promise of malevolence. "But I'm sure there are perfectly good reasons why you are running low on people to toy with."
It was like meeting an animal you had never seen before, Nakajima mused as he watched Shichijo's eyes spit fire at him. A particularly beautiful animal, all claws and teeth and fangs and though one might realize that it was dangerous, one still could not help but be tempted to interact with it, just to see what it would to. He felt exactly the same about this situation; this was the first time he had ever seen Shichijo this angry, and not even bothering to hide it. Their game had stepped up to a more dangerous level now, and Nakajima relished the feeling.
He had always been a risk-taker, tethering from the side of adventurousness to recklessness.
Nakajima smirked, lifting a hand to trace his finger across Shichijo's cheekbone, a mockery of what he had done barely two weeks ago. "I wouldn't say that you are my only source of entertainment, Shichijo; far from it. You are simply the most amusing. Did my joke affect you so much? I didn't realize that you have such, ah... delicate sensibilities. Or are you angry because you wanted my words to be true?" Now he was simply taunting Shichijo, testing the limits, so as to speak.
Shichijo's fingers twitched at Nakajima's touch. The moment he relaxed them, he reached out, caught a fistful of blue necktie, and shoved. The loud thunk of the other boy's head hitting the wall... Now, that made him smile.
"Hm... well, wouldn't you like to know?" His voice was playful, but there was no amusement in his eyes. "Maybe I do want you," he began as he pressed in until they stood chest to chest. He circled Nakajima's wrists as he continued, snarling, "or maybe this is a prank."
Shichijo had never kissed another person quite as harshly as he did Nakajima.
And Nakajima had never been one to back down from a challenge. He recognized this as challenge, one he had brought onto himself. He had pushed Shichijo this far now; of course he wasn't going to back down, not when Shichijo had pushed the challenge into his territory. No one knew more about sex than he did - that he was sure of.
He kissed Shichijo just as ferociously, nipping and biting at the other boy's lips as their teeth clashed and tongues sparred. He sucked Shichijo's tongue into his mouth hard enough to hurt, a hand coming up to grip onto the silver hair, forcefully pulling the other boy's head back.
"Much as I would like to test that theory," Nakajima's own voice had deepened into a growl, and his smirk turned challenging, bordering on predatory even through his bruised lips, "do control your lust towards me so we can get to a room. Who knows, I might even let you fuck me." The hand in Shichijo's hand loosened their grips minimally, and Nakajima let a few strands run through his fingers before he tightened his fist again.
"But you have to ask nicely."
"Hypocrite." Whether he asked politely, they both knew Nakajima was up for sex, up for challenges. Any flat surface would do. "You don't deserve a bed." Shichijo decided then and there the hallway was just fine. The hell with whoever walked in on them. It wasn't as though Nakajima cared if people were around when he started his goading, and there were plenty of people staring silently at them in the library when he pulled that "You're mine" crap; plenty of people around them whenever they used to argue - until recently.
So this was making up for the absence of their fights. This was just a step up from the norm after all, Shichijo decided. He dropped his hands to the belt around Nakajima's pants, sliding a knee between the other boy's legs as he tugged the buckle loose. "But I'll ask you this: do you think you deserve nice?" He pulled Nakajima closer so he didn't have to strain against the hand in his hair too much, whispered huskily into his ear "I don't think so," he said, then tore at Nakajima's throat with lips, tongue and teeth.
"Such an exhibitionist," Nakajima replied, tone still teasing. He didn't mind the location - he rarely cared where he took his conquests, and the extra risk of being discovered sent a rush of adrenaline to his blood. If Shichijo wanted to play the game this way, then so be it.
His hands started to unbutton the buttons on Shichijo's clothes, but his impatience was too great, and why did he care anyway? Nakajima pulled hard, scattering buttons everywhere as he slid his hands inside the shirt, pinching dark pink nipples roughly, scraping at pale skin with his nails. A leg hooked around Shichijo's, pulling the other boy even closer, grinding their crotches together even as Nakajima started to undo the buckle of Shichijo's belt.
"But are you sure about this?" His tone was sardonic, dripping with scorn even as his breathing hitched. "Someone may walk in on us, and you don't want Saionji to find out... or do you?" He chuckled, shoving Shichijo's pants and underwear downwards, his head leaning forward to bite on an earlobe. "Tell me; is this worth your friendship?"
Shichijo jerked away from him, glowering. "This thing between us has nothing to do with friendship, Nakajima." He stepped back, grabbing Nakajima's shoulder and spinning him around so that the other boy ended up facing the wall. "Bring Kaoru into it again," Shichijo growled as he pulled Nakajima's pants down, "and I won't hesitate to include your Tet-chan."
Nakajima snorted, "Do you really think that threat does anything? Niwa means to me perhaps half of what Saionji means to you, or perhaps even less. Niwa isn't the one who is practically powerless in the face of physical violence, Shichijo." He braced himself against the wall, arching his back and grinding his ass against Shichijo's erection. He turned back, smirking as his glasses glinted in the meager hallway light.
"Bring in Niwa if you wish, but remember: it is Saionji who will be powerless if I ever choose to... lavish such attentions on him," Nakajima's smirk darkens, the glare of the light on his glasses hiding his eyes. Of course, it was just a taunt - Nakajima wasn't a rapist, and he would never commit such acts against a friend. But Shichijo had raised the stakes, and he was too caught up in their game, too involved, to not retaliate the best he could.
Perhaps it might even wake Shichijo up from his inaction and his stupidity, but Nakajima did not hold too much hope for that.
Especially not when Shichijo was so angry at him, to the point where the other boy initiated hatesex - what else could it be - in an open corridor.
"Oh? Who said I'd need to be physically violent with Niwa-kaichou? ... And I was under the impression that Kaoru as willing to have sex with you, at least as much as you seem to be willing with me," if not more so, he didn't add.
Nakajima had approached his best friend two weeks ago, pinned him against a wall outside when he pulled that stupid prank on him, and Saionji had played along, flirted back, ever so comfortable with the closeness of Nakajima's body that the people who saw them said afterwards, with honest conviction, those two slept together before. And though Shichijo hadn't asked Saionji himself, he had eyes; he had a brain.
He had a jealousy streak about ten miles wide, and the only consolation he had was that Saionji didn’t always walk around with a limp.
But thinking further about that only upset Shichijo more. He shoved into Nakajima. Hard.
Nakajima nearly bit through his lip in an attempt to not make a noise when Shichijo's cock nearly tore him apart. He squeezed his eyes shut, breathing hard and as silently as he could through his nose, leaning his head against the cool wall. He thanked his own foresight that he had consciously relaxed his body beforehand, or else it would have hurt more than it did now, and now it hurt as though someone had pressed a hot iron inside him. Which wasn't that much different, actually.
He licked up the blood on his lip as the pain gradually, slowly, faded into numbness. His vision spun slightly; it must’ve been the endorphins. The adrenaline in the blood heightened his senses, chasing away his dizziness and the roaring in his ears. He took a deep breath, exhaling slowly before pushing backwards against Shichijo's erection.
"Saionji is only willing with me because I remind him of you," Nakajima stated, and was very proud of the fact that his voice did not shake. "And when have I ever said that I was going to rape him? There are... other ways."
"Ah," Shichijo's eyes glazed over with the verbal confirmation that his best friend did in fact sleep with his rival. Without warning, he pulled out slightly, almost completely, and slammed in again. And again. "I'll believe your pretty lies," he responded somberly, "if he ever does come to me instead of you."
Nakajima pressed his left hand against his mouth, biting down on the fleshy part of his palm as he trembled under the onslaught. Shichijo's cock brushed against his prostate, and that sudden spark of pleasure made him heady, and he leaned even more on the wall, spreading his legs wider to find his balance. He let his hand drop from his mouth.
"Perhaps," he said when he had regained control of himself, "he would do that if you actually did something about that ridiculous situation of yours. Following him like a dog all day and not touching him... placing him on a pedestal when he doesn't want to be... no wonder he comes to me. At least I am willing to fuck him into a mattress when he wants to be." He turned his head, meeting cold violet eyes with his own mocking blue ones as he pushed back against Shichijo's thrusts. The pleasure was starting to overwhelm the pain, and damn if Nakajima was going to show his rival any of the latter.
A feral growl escaped Shichijo's throat, but was quickly cut off with a vicious kiss. This was not at all what he had in mind when he asked Saionji whether he could bite Nakajima, but he bit. The salty tang of blood told him what he was doing was wrong, but just as he registered that, there was a soft gasp - but both their mouths were occupied.
Nakajima's eyes slid to the side, taking in wide grey-gold eyes and the look of disturbed fascination and shock. He pulled away from Shichijo forcefully, licking up the trail of blood escaping from the corner of his lips. He licked at Shichijo's lips, letting the other boy taste Nakajima's own blood, before he whispered, "Looks like your wish came true. We have am audience."
He turned towards Iwai, smirking grotesquely, blood tinting his teeth and lips bright red. "Isn't it rather late to be prowling about at night, Iwai? Shinomiya wouldn't be pleased, na?"
The poor student Head of the Art Club... Shichijo almost felt sorry for Iwai. Almost, because at the moment, he was inside of Nakajima. "Saa," he placed his hands on Nakajima's hips and started fucking him, just fucking him, aiming for his prostrate even while he held the other boy still. "Iwai-san is free to do as he pleases, whether prowling or sticking around to watch... Do you want Shinomiya-san to become part of our audience?" On a whim, Shichijo reached around in front, wrapping a hand around Nakajima's rigid shaft, and began to stroke him.
Nakajima gasped, a sharp indrawn breath through his teeth as he snapped his head away from Iwai's gaze, gritting his teeth so tightly that his tendons stood out so as not to make a sound. His clenched his hands into white-knuckled fists, leaning his whole weight against his arms and the wall as he arched backwards, thrusting back and forth between the hot, hard cock inside him and the too-slow hand stroking his cock. He was not unaware of their audience either: the knowledge of those eyes on him, watching his every move, sent a hot streak of pleasure down his spine. Nakajima would personally make sure that their little... performance here would not disappoint the artist. ‘After all, isn't an artist a connoisseur of art?’
He turned his head back, capturing Shichijo's lips into a fierce kiss, nipping and sucking on already-bruised lips and sparring with that poisonous tongue. Eventually, he pulled away, licking at his own lips for a moment before speaking, "Such an exhibitionist, Shichijo. Aren't you ashamed of yourself now?" His tone was mocking and toxic despite the slight hitch in his breath.
Shichijo gave as good as he got, kissing and fucking Nakajima against the wall with such ferocity that Iwai couldn't help but simply stare, momentarily forgetting about his trip back to his studio. There was something beautiful about the violence and the repression in this scene, the artist thought, but as far as Shichijo was concerned, this was as far from repression as it was from an act of love.
"Ashamed?" The silver haired boy sneered, "You're the one who keeps bringing up exhibitionism, Nakajima." As if it wasn't obvious enough. "Are you uncomfortable with it," he jerked both of them back to give their voyeur a better view, "Or does this get you off?"
"So what if it does?" Nakajima chuckled, gripping the hair at the base of Shichijo's neck, pulling the other boy forward as he attacked the exposed throat and collarbones. He licked a long line from the hollow of the throat to the chin, paying extra attention to the Adam's apple before continuing, "At least I dare to admit it. Such repression isn't good for your health, Shichijo."
He could feel the edges of his vision grey, signaling his approaching orgasm, but he slammed down the walls of his control. Not yet; not before Shichijo did. Nakajima arched his head back, biting down on the join of Shichijo's neck and shoulders, cleaning the hickey with his tongue. Kissing Shichijo hard, he let the other boy taste the metallic quality of his own blood as he concentrated, clenching down hard on the cock inside of him.
"Are you enjoying this, Iwai?"
Shichijo didn't care to hear the answer. Rather, he frowned slightly, and shifted his hands, the one on Nakajima's hip moving to wrap securely around his waist, and the one on his erection to lift his thigh up. If the other boy lost balance, well, he was facing the wall. It'd support him up. With the change of angle, he grunted, "Enjoy this," and thrust in with renewed vigor, as if he knew Nakajima was trying to get him off first, and fighting him all the way to the finish.
Nakajima thanked his karate training mentally as he tried to balance on one leg, the other twining around Shichijo's. His left hand slapped against the wall loudly as he leaned against it, hissing out a breath as the sudden change of positions and speed stimulated his prostate even further. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Iwai finally getting his wits back together and fleeing the scene, but he ignored it. His right hand moved downwards to stroke Shichijo's balls, dragging blunt nails across the surface as he rubbed them in his hands.
Hell if he was going to let Shichijo win this round.
But hell if Shichijo was going to let Nakajima be smug about coming last.
He bit into his rival's shoulder and sucked viciously to keep from crying out loud, letting his own nails leave their mark on Nakajima as surely as the other boy marked him until finally, finally, even he could not stand it any longer. Shichijo reached down to jerk Nakajima off. Fast.
Nakajima's back bowed, pressing against Shichijo's chest, turning his head around and drawing a earlobe into his mouth, sucking and nibbling on it ferociously as he held back his voice through the sheer force of will. His vision turned white, graying more at the edges as he came hard into Shichijo's hand just as he felt Shichijo spasm and heat rushing into his bruised insides. He trembled slightly, both hands braced against the wall, clenched into tight fists as he rode out his orgasm, rocking back slightly against Shichijo, clenching himself around the other boy as if to milk him as much as possible.
Shichijo pushed into Nakajima as deep as he could go, faintly aware that they'd both found release at about the same time, and only somewhat disappointed by that fact. When he could, he lowered the other boy's leg, his movement slowed by fatigue, and smeared the come on his hand over Nakajima's taut stomach. He registered the blood on his tongue again, this time without the haze of passion, and quickly removed himself, pulling out at the same time, stepping back.
‘...Gods.’
Nakajima hissed in pain as the pleasure and the adrenaline faded and he felt his body without the fog of pleasure and lust shielding him. He straightened, stepping towards the wall and leaning a shoulder against it, panting harshly; eyes half-closed as he tried to keep the pain he felt from his face. He knew the sight he made: blood dripping down his thighs and smeared all over his ass and legs, come drying on his shirt, making it almost unbearably sticky, blood on his lips and teeth and chin from biting his own lip to near-shreds, pants and boxers pulled to his ankles, the bite mark on his shoulder bruising into a lovely purple color... oh yes, he knew exactly how he looked like even without a mirror. Chuckling hoarsely, he raised an eyebrow at the wide-eyed Shichijo, licking his lips clean.
"Admiring your handiwork?"
'...Gods.' There was no point in hiding his gaze. Shichijo looked Nakajima over as if watching a train wreck happening. He couldn't tear his eyes away even as he stepped back, couldn't ignore the fact that there was blood and bruising and Nakajima screamed for more sex and violence and... 'I did this.'
Shichijo was horrified.
Somehow, after a long bout of silence, he found his voice again. "If this is something you think should be admired, then you might as well see if Iwai-san would like to make something of it."
With that, Shichijo turned to leave, adjusted his clothes until they were proper again, as proper as they could be when his shirt couldn't be closed anymore. Oh, he had spares. There'd be no big deal if someone found some stray buttons in the corridor tomorrow, but this...
"Now, will you leave me alone?"
Nakajima shifted his body until his back was to the wall, leaning almost his whole weight against it because he didn't think that his legs could support any sort of weight right now. At Shichijo's words, at the horrified look in those eyes, Nakajima laughed lowly.
"If this is what happens when I push you too far, Shichijo, remind me to do it more often." He grinned, pulling up his pants and buckling his belt, uncaring of the stains on his clothes and his general disheveled state. It wasn't as if anyone else would see him like this anyway. Stepping forward, he tapped Shichijo on the chin, smirking widely.
"I'm not Saionji. And I won't break easily. If you want to work off more tension this way, feel free to come to me. Just don't hide those pretty violet eyes again, na?" His tone was teasing, near-mocking as he stepped back and started walking off. But he stopped halfway, turning his head back.
"It was fun for me as well, and neither of us won this round. So stop making that face already."
Long after they returned to their own rooms, those words echoed in Shichijo's ears.
End
Continued in Surfacing: Set
Surfacing: Game
- a sequel to Practically
Authors: kagayachou and the_dw
Characters/Pairings: Shichijo/Nakajima, Shichijo/Saionji, Nakajima->Niwa implied
Rating: NC-17
Words: 7000
Summary: Nakajima has a ‘confession’ to make, but neither he nor Shichijo ever saw this coming. Now, who was hunter and who was prey?
Warnings: Hatesex, violence, blood.
"Shichijo," Nakajima said, stepping up behind the silver-haired boy's chair as the latter hunched over the computer. He put his hands on Shichijo's shoulder, spinning him around and pinning him against the wooden desk.
Smirking at the surprised reaction, Nakajima leaned in, whispering in Shichijo's ear: "You're mine."
Pain shot up Shichijo's spine and for a moment, he thought he'd misheard. But if that was the case, why would Nakajima push him back, and come so close? Before he could stop himself, Shichijo gaped, violet eyes for once open, mouth slack; a sudden vulnerability knocking his oft-smiling mask from his face.
Nakajima leaned even closer, one hand stroking down Shichijo's body to grasp a hip, holding the other boy in place as his other hand cup a pale cheek. He blew a breath into Shichijo's ear, chuckling lowly.
"You have beautiful eyes. You shouldn't hide them with that smile, Shichijo. You're mine and mine alone - my rival," his thumb brushed along the line of a high cheekbone, "my enemy, and... my lover." He ran his teeth over the shell of the ear, "There is a very thin line between love and hate."
Shichijo's eyebrows shot up, and he felt the air being slowly crushed out of his lungs. Nakajima wasn't acting within expectations. Or at least, not within expectations towards Shichijo himself. This had to be a joke.
"Ho..." Shichijo tilted his chin up with a reassured smile, daring, almost allowing their lips to touch. "Is there really?"
Violet eyes narrowed, anger and suspicion blatant beneath silver eyelashes; there was quite an obvious reason why Shichijo so often kept his eyes hidden. His voice however, remained soft and unwaveringly calm.
"Oh, I don't doubt that you hate me, Nakajima." He stopped his rival's wandering fingers with a hand clamped around his wrist. As he moved that hand aside, he continued, "But there's a distinct lack of respect for my private space that detracts from claims of love, don't you think?"
"But not from claims from possession," Nakajima countered, rather amused now. He liked that look in Shichijo's eyes. He hated Shichijo because of how he always masked himself in that fake smile, hiding his real face and refusing to let anyone read him. It frustrated Nakajima to no end. But now... now he had tangible proof that Shichijo was indeed affected, despite that calm voice.
"I've said it before, haven't I? You're mine. It is you who hate me; I am simply irritated and frustrated by you - emotions that are nowhere as strong as the hatred you obviously felt for me," Nakajima's voice was logical and reasonable and sultry all at the same time. "You love me, Shichijo. What is wrong with claiming what is mine?"
Shichijo just looked at him, then laughed. "You're so horrible, Nakajima," he dropped his voice to a silken, flirtatious whisper, mouth curving deliberately into a sickening sweet smile. "So horrible a liar that is. Or perhaps you need new glasses, because I've already pledged myself to another, or have I not been clear enough with my behavior towards Kaoru?"
That said, he dropped Nakajima's hand, and made to push him off, schooling his face once more. "If you'll excuse me..."
Nakajima stepped backwards a little, the smirk on his face turning even more predatory, if that was even possible. "You're running away," he stated, tone almost musing as he stroked his fingers across that pale chin. "You're avoiding the subject too... I can see your mask taking over again." He traced a finger over the fake smile, pressing against the plush lips. "Don't. I like it better when you're honest. If you truly believe that you belong solely to Saionji... then why are you hiding?"
He splayed a hand over Shichijo's abdomen, scraping his fingers downwards until he was rubbing against Shichijo's groin again. His voice was casual when he spoke, "Besides, Saionji hadn't claimed you yet, nor have you told him that you are his. A Queen's Knight is not a Queen's lover, and I will still allow you to serve him when you're mine."
Shichijo froze. Then the corners of his lips turned down. He shot Nakajima a look of pure violent disgust. He could barely keep his body from cringing back more at such an intimate invasion, nor could he now allow himself to 'run away' from him. "Hands off, Nakajima," he settled for a grip around the other boy's wrist again, tighter this time. "I've no interest in playing this game with you."
Nakajima decided to try another tactic, since this one wasn't working for his purposes. He raised an eyebrow, stepping back fully, enough to give Shichijo mobility, but not enough to let him run away. Pulling his wrist back, he said, "Oh? Then I shall stop playing games and be honest, then, since you're being so honest with me.
"I like you when you're fighting me like this, without masks. That fake smile distorts your face, do you know that? You're beautiful when you're angry, like you're now. You have fire in you, Shichijo, and courage, and the sheer guts to stand up to me. That's what I like about you. That's why I want you to be mine," Nakajima let the smirk soften into a smaller, more genuine smile, a little down-turned and self-deprecating. "Perhaps I had went about it in a wrong way with you, but I am sincere about this." He took Shichijo's hand into his, kissing the back of it like a Knight would a Queen.
"Is that too much to ask for?"
In the resulting silence, Shichijo went from angry to utterly floored. His eyes widened as a dreadful realization sank in: Nakajima could be serious. But Shichijo couldn't, for the life of him, figure out what he was supposed to say to Nakajima in response.
He started shaking his head in disbelief, then quickly nodded instead when it occurred to him that his answer could be mistaken. "You're still lying," he insisted, but his eyes betrayed his shock and doubt. "This is a bad joke."
What do I need to do to convince you that I'm serious, Shichijo?" Nakajima almost demanded, frowning. "Because I am deadly serious about this. Do you want me to kneel, perhaps? Or beg? To strip myself of all my pride and dignity just so you will be mine? Is that what you want? Tell me."
He leaned forward, almost but not quite pressing his body against Shichijo's. "Tell me, Shichijo. Tell me what I have to do to get you to believe me."
"I hate you." The words came out in a whisper, and they seemed to be all Shichijo could manage on such short notice. He sounded younger, more confused, and he couldn't seem to take his eyes away from this strange person who looked and sounded like his rival - but also looked and sounded completely different.
Slowly, a smirk spread over Nakajima's lips, and he stepped away from Shichijo quickly enough that it was as if close contact burnt him. "I'm glad you still think so, because I hate you too," he drawled, looking into those confused, doubtful violet eyes that had swallowed his false words like they were honey. He had gotten too carried away in the joke, so much that he had almost believed it himself, but... it had worked, didn't it? Shichijo believed him, and was shaken up enough to show such a vulnerable expression. Hide's lips twitch.
That Shichijo believed him despite his overall uncharacteristic behavior, despite Nakajima being over-the-top and ridiculous... it was hilarious. Nakajima let out a small chuckle, then lost control over himself and just laughed, covering his mouth with a hand as he doubled over, eyes never leaving Shichijo's face. To know that Shichijo's resistance is so easily worn down by pretty words... pretty words that the other boy probably used on others himself... it amused him beyond words.
’Do unto others what you want to be done unto you,’ indeed.
Shichijo stared. 'Oh. Of course,' he thought dully, his stomach gradually settling back down where it was supposed to be. 'I'd forgotten myself, and who this jerk is.' Laughing at him. Nakajima, laughing, because it really was funny, wasn't it? For shame. Shichijo never thought Nakajima would go that far just to score a point against him. His brows creased. Maybe his stomach dropped too far, because there was a hollow feeling in his middle now, and his fingers twitched like he wanted to lash out at the target in front of him.
Or hit himself.
'How... silly of me.'
He needed to do some re-evaluations - about Nakajima, as well as himself. How could he fall for such...
'You're mine... You love me... You have beautiful eyes. You shouldn't hide them with that smile... I like you when you're fighting me... when you're angry...'
It was wrong. So wrong. It wasn't the way they fought. They had occupied a completely different battleground. 'I am sincere about this... deadly serious,' Nakajima had said, and now this.
Well, two could play at that game.
Shichijo started to scowl, but caught himself. His smile came out instead, but it was a different, long-unused one, a bitter grimace that drew upon the hurt that he'd filed away since middle school.
"Congratulations. I am angry. Now leave me alone."
"Do you really want me to?" Nakajima said, an eyebrow still raised and lips dancing in stifled laughter. He savored the look of bitter hatred on Shichijo's face. Well, he had certainly broken Shichijo's mask this time, and it gave him a sense of triumph. If things continued in this vein... if Shichijo stopped being so fake and started being honest with his feelings to the world and stopped hiding behind that ugly, obvious mask... Nakajima might even like him.
He shrugged, "You seemed to like the idea that I want you just fine. Have I struck a nerve there?" He crossed his arms, taunting, "Or is it the truth that I had struck?"
"Oh, it was a dream come true," Shichijo responded with that sweet venomous sarcasm of his even though he couldn't seem to pull that smile back on his face. "I was just about ready to praise all the gods I could think of and offer them ritual sacrifices at the thought that you'd been possessed by a ghost, and that I would never had to deal with your company again, because you wouldn't be you."
He certainly looked like he meant his words too.
“You don't have to go as far as to offer ritual sacrifices," Nakajima said mock-mildly, his tone as poisonous as Shichijo. But he sounded amused as well, as if he was humoring the other boy's little fantasies. "All you have to do is ask, Shichijo, and I can be... possessed if you want me to.
"Of course," he continued maliciously, "that might be just a little pathetic of you, don't you think?" He stepped closer, reaching out a hand to stroke through silver hair, petting a pale cheek condescendingly. "If you really want that treatment, why don't you tell Saionji how you truly feel, na? Instead of throwing him at me as ammunition."
With that last word, Nakajima gave the other boy Shichijo's usual smile, as false as fool's gold, and spun on his heel, walking away, still chuckling.
Shichijo glowered, had the distinct need to take a shower and wash the feel of Nakajima's grimy hands off of his body. Tearing his eyes from his retreating back, he turned and silently picked up his chair, pushing it back against the table. He didn't need to sit down again after all. Just leaned over it, tapped the keyboard to wake the computer from sleep mode, then saved and shutdown.
***
Nakajima remained smug for a week after his prank on the school. Out of everyone he had tried the line on, Shichijo’s reaction remained the most amusing. Niwa's was expected, while Saionji wasn't fooled at all. Shinomiya was still avoiding him even after a week; Iwai had somehow gained a little more confidence after it, for reasons Nakajima could not fathom. Taki... a frown crossed Nakajima's countenance before he shook his head. Well, the problem with the Vice Chairman was certainly solved now, and quite satisfactorily, in fact.
Meanwhile, after that prank last week, Shichijo had walked back to the Treasury Room with a subconscious frown, which made people stare. But since he was used to drawing odd looks and double takes on a semi-regular basis, he paid them no heed. Saionji Kaoru however took one look at his best friend and practically ran over, asking worriedly if he was alright. Of course, Shichijo explained that he'd simply been in unpleasant company, that he was fine now, and going to make tea seemed like a good idea, didn't it? Yes, he'd go make tea.
Except the redhead had then reached out and cupped his cheeks, searching his face with such curiosity and concern in those beautiful green eyes.
'Is there something on my face, Kaoru?'
Saionji shook his head, smoothed his thumbs over Shichijo's cheeks. "I missed seeing your eyes, Omi... but you're upset. You're really upset about something. What is it? Tell me."
And so he did.
And so he found out that Nakajima had gone to practically everyone they knew, and said the exact same words - "You're mine" - as a joke.
Saionji laughed about it, so Shichijo smiled - or at least he tried, but all he managed to do was close his eyes, only to quickly remember that Saionji missed seeing them. Finally, he just looked back at the redhead, nodded, and repeated, "I'll go make tea," after which his best friend wisely dropped the subject.
Saionji had been waiting for Shichijo to pick it up again all week.
***
Nakajima followed Niwa to the school canteen, trailing half a step behind as always. He spotted Shichijo and Saionji, and smirked. The former still hadn't managed to paste back on his smiling mask and, to be quite honest with himself, Nakajima liked him better this way. Shichijo's words were no longer coated with that layer of civility and politeness - instead, he was brutally honest and brutally insulting now, especially to Nakajima.
Their verbal spars had certainly gotten even more interesting.
Nakajima walked over to the table that the Treasury had practically claimed as their own, the smirk widening as he stopped in front of Shichijo, "So the Queen and his dog had decided to grace us with their presence today." His tone was mocking, "I'm disappointed in you, Shichijo. You didn't even retaliate against this morning's attack properly."
Shichijo graced Nakajima with a disdainful tilt of his head, eyes focused on the amount of sugar he was spooning into his tea. He could feel Saionji’s worried stare, but it wasn't the redhead Nakajima was addressing.
"That so-called attack didn't merit much attention, Nakajima." He looked up when he was satisfied and stirring. "If I could simply block and walk away from the computer with its contents unscathed, then it's you who are slipping, but you don't find me complain about that now, do you? Saa, didn't expect much from you in the first place."
Nakajima nodded, as if acquiescing to that point, "But are your contents truly unscathed, Shichijo? Have you been so sloppy now that you can't recognize or predict the damage done by my attack?" Because that attack did have consequences, which apparently Shichijo wasn't aware of. Nakajima sincerely doubted that. "As expected of a dog which can only bark and can't bite because of the muzzle around its mouth."
He spun on his heel and walked to the next table, sitting down on the bench languidly. Had Shichijo discovered the rerouting of several rather important pieces of data that the Treasury needed in order to function? If he hadn't, then Nakajima would be sorely disappointed.
But then, Shichijo didn't feel like letting him know that he did, because the thought of responding now felt far too much like he needed to report his findings to the bastard. Instead, Shichijo simply turned back to Saionji, raising an eyebrow. "Can I bite him?" Briefly, he contemplated drawing blood.
"Have the dog turned rabid now?" Nakajima remarked mildly, almost rhetorically. He waved away Niwa's attempt to stop him from goading Shichijo. Why should he? He was having too much fun with this, especially since Shichijo was finally fighting fire with fire, poison with poison, and his barbs had strengthened. Nakajima did always love conflict, whether physical or mental.
"Keep a stronger leash on him, Saionji, or he might just carry out his threat. Matsuoka-sensei would not be pleased."
Saionji finished his tea and dabbed his lips with a napkin. "I'm not pleased by either of you," he said, standing up and stepping away from his seat because it was directly between the two rivals. The tension made Niwa's presence the preferable alternative.
"And Omi, you are not my dog."
Shichijo blinked. The cafeteria suddenly seemed quieter. After a long silence, he replied gently, "You've never rejected Nakajima's words before..."
"Why are you directing your words to him, Saionji?" Nakajima cut in before Saionji could answer, sounding both honestly curious and mocking at the same time. "But I guess it would make sense, wouldn't it? He was the one who shamelessly admitted that he belonged to you, after all."
He paused, cocking his head to the side, "If you detest the word dog that much, would slave be better?"
Niwa sat down opposite Nakajima, silent for once. He was not going to be involved in this. There was a strange tension between Shichijo and Nakajima that extended beyond their rivalry recently, and Saionji seemed to be caught up in it too. Niwa wanted to find out what exactly it was.
Saionji glanced at Nakajima, willing him to stop goading his best friend. A week of worry and mystery and not one smile on Shichijo's face for the entire time; honestly, he'd had as much as he could stand!
"I'm telling Omi this, because he doesn't defend himself whenever you say these things, and I should have said something a long time ago," he said before turning back to Shichijo. "So don't ask me if you're allowed to... bite him or..." Saionji crossed his arms over his chest, brows creased with aggravation. "Never mind," he shook his head and picked up his tray.
Nakajima snorted quietly. Looked like Shichijo wouldn't be responding to him any time soon, since Saionji had... approved and disapproved of the situation in such a spectacular way. Shichijo was probably going to stare after the other boy for a long amount of time and think and generally be useless as a verbal sparring partner. Nakajima rolled his eyes; those two, while some of the most intelligent students in the school, could be more idiotic and blind than Niwa sometimes. He didn't understand why they couldn't just talk to each other already and solve this whole situation.
But it wasn't his place to interfere anyway. He sighed, standing up and stuffing his hands in his pockets, "I'm going back." He shrugged, "Our entertainment had left with his owner, and there is more work to do. Niwa."
However, the King too had gone off.
"Kaoru-chan? ... Kaoru!"
As Niwa's back fell in Shichijo's line of vision, the silver haired boy looked back down at his tray and decided he just wasn't hungry anymore. His eyes settled upon Nakajima for a solid second, but he remained silent, and put away his tray.
***
Another week passed before Nakajima met Shichijo face-to-face once more, this time completely alone and far away from both the Student Council and the Treasury. He had seen the other boy approaching when he turned the corner, so he leaned against the wall of the hallway, watching with half-lidded eyes as Shichijo came closer. Well, he was already bored anyway. Straightening, he smirked as Shichijo went pass him.
"What is a dog wandering about without its master? Has he finally broken free of his leash?" There was still no fake smile on Shichijo's face, Nakajima noted, and felt oddly pleased at it. No more of that detestable mask that shadowed Shichijo's true self.
There was a sharp pause when Shichijo halted in the corridor, not saying a word despite the fact that he'd obviously heard Nakajima. His back was ramrod straight, his poise the picture of perfect calm.
A half turn back, and violet eyes met dark blue. Shichijo asked him, voice soft as tender poison,” What do I have to do to convince you to leave me alone?"
"I wasn't aware that you wanted to be left alone," Nakajima said, and his tone would have been believably mild and inoffensive if not for the casually insulting lilt to it; the small smirk at the corner of his lips; the completely open posture, as if to say that Shichijo wasn't worthwhile enough for him to even try to defend himself, just in case. "Perhaps if you stopped following Saionji like a little puppy that had lost its mother and learn to read what he wants you to know, I might just leave you alone. Or I might not."
He shrugged, crossing his arms over his chest and leaning against the wall again, "You are far too fun to bait. If I left you alone, then where would I get my entertainment from?"
"You poor wretch." Shichijo sneered. "I would pity you if your only source of entertainment really did come from me nowadays." He bridged the distance between them in three easy strides, eyes cold and bright with the promise of malevolence. "But I'm sure there are perfectly good reasons why you are running low on people to toy with."
It was like meeting an animal you had never seen before, Nakajima mused as he watched Shichijo's eyes spit fire at him. A particularly beautiful animal, all claws and teeth and fangs and though one might realize that it was dangerous, one still could not help but be tempted to interact with it, just to see what it would to. He felt exactly the same about this situation; this was the first time he had ever seen Shichijo this angry, and not even bothering to hide it. Their game had stepped up to a more dangerous level now, and Nakajima relished the feeling.
He had always been a risk-taker, tethering from the side of adventurousness to recklessness.
Nakajima smirked, lifting a hand to trace his finger across Shichijo's cheekbone, a mockery of what he had done barely two weeks ago. "I wouldn't say that you are my only source of entertainment, Shichijo; far from it. You are simply the most amusing. Did my joke affect you so much? I didn't realize that you have such, ah... delicate sensibilities. Or are you angry because you wanted my words to be true?" Now he was simply taunting Shichijo, testing the limits, so as to speak.
Shichijo's fingers twitched at Nakajima's touch. The moment he relaxed them, he reached out, caught a fistful of blue necktie, and shoved. The loud thunk of the other boy's head hitting the wall... Now, that made him smile.
"Hm... well, wouldn't you like to know?" His voice was playful, but there was no amusement in his eyes. "Maybe I do want you," he began as he pressed in until they stood chest to chest. He circled Nakajima's wrists as he continued, snarling, "or maybe this is a prank."
Shichijo had never kissed another person quite as harshly as he did Nakajima.
And Nakajima had never been one to back down from a challenge. He recognized this as challenge, one he had brought onto himself. He had pushed Shichijo this far now; of course he wasn't going to back down, not when Shichijo had pushed the challenge into his territory. No one knew more about sex than he did - that he was sure of.
He kissed Shichijo just as ferociously, nipping and biting at the other boy's lips as their teeth clashed and tongues sparred. He sucked Shichijo's tongue into his mouth hard enough to hurt, a hand coming up to grip onto the silver hair, forcefully pulling the other boy's head back.
"Much as I would like to test that theory," Nakajima's own voice had deepened into a growl, and his smirk turned challenging, bordering on predatory even through his bruised lips, "do control your lust towards me so we can get to a room. Who knows, I might even let you fuck me." The hand in Shichijo's hand loosened their grips minimally, and Nakajima let a few strands run through his fingers before he tightened his fist again.
"But you have to ask nicely."
"Hypocrite." Whether he asked politely, they both knew Nakajima was up for sex, up for challenges. Any flat surface would do. "You don't deserve a bed." Shichijo decided then and there the hallway was just fine. The hell with whoever walked in on them. It wasn't as though Nakajima cared if people were around when he started his goading, and there were plenty of people staring silently at them in the library when he pulled that "You're mine" crap; plenty of people around them whenever they used to argue - until recently.
So this was making up for the absence of their fights. This was just a step up from the norm after all, Shichijo decided. He dropped his hands to the belt around Nakajima's pants, sliding a knee between the other boy's legs as he tugged the buckle loose. "But I'll ask you this: do you think you deserve nice?" He pulled Nakajima closer so he didn't have to strain against the hand in his hair too much, whispered huskily into his ear "I don't think so," he said, then tore at Nakajima's throat with lips, tongue and teeth.
"Such an exhibitionist," Nakajima replied, tone still teasing. He didn't mind the location - he rarely cared where he took his conquests, and the extra risk of being discovered sent a rush of adrenaline to his blood. If Shichijo wanted to play the game this way, then so be it.
His hands started to unbutton the buttons on Shichijo's clothes, but his impatience was too great, and why did he care anyway? Nakajima pulled hard, scattering buttons everywhere as he slid his hands inside the shirt, pinching dark pink nipples roughly, scraping at pale skin with his nails. A leg hooked around Shichijo's, pulling the other boy even closer, grinding their crotches together even as Nakajima started to undo the buckle of Shichijo's belt.
"But are you sure about this?" His tone was sardonic, dripping with scorn even as his breathing hitched. "Someone may walk in on us, and you don't want Saionji to find out... or do you?" He chuckled, shoving Shichijo's pants and underwear downwards, his head leaning forward to bite on an earlobe. "Tell me; is this worth your friendship?"
Shichijo jerked away from him, glowering. "This thing between us has nothing to do with friendship, Nakajima." He stepped back, grabbing Nakajima's shoulder and spinning him around so that the other boy ended up facing the wall. "Bring Kaoru into it again," Shichijo growled as he pulled Nakajima's pants down, "and I won't hesitate to include your Tet-chan."
Nakajima snorted, "Do you really think that threat does anything? Niwa means to me perhaps half of what Saionji means to you, or perhaps even less. Niwa isn't the one who is practically powerless in the face of physical violence, Shichijo." He braced himself against the wall, arching his back and grinding his ass against Shichijo's erection. He turned back, smirking as his glasses glinted in the meager hallway light.
"Bring in Niwa if you wish, but remember: it is Saionji who will be powerless if I ever choose to... lavish such attentions on him," Nakajima's smirk darkens, the glare of the light on his glasses hiding his eyes. Of course, it was just a taunt - Nakajima wasn't a rapist, and he would never commit such acts against a friend. But Shichijo had raised the stakes, and he was too caught up in their game, too involved, to not retaliate the best he could.
Perhaps it might even wake Shichijo up from his inaction and his stupidity, but Nakajima did not hold too much hope for that.
Especially not when Shichijo was so angry at him, to the point where the other boy initiated hatesex - what else could it be - in an open corridor.
"Oh? Who said I'd need to be physically violent with Niwa-kaichou? ... And I was under the impression that Kaoru as willing to have sex with you, at least as much as you seem to be willing with me," if not more so, he didn't add.
Nakajima had approached his best friend two weeks ago, pinned him against a wall outside when he pulled that stupid prank on him, and Saionji had played along, flirted back, ever so comfortable with the closeness of Nakajima's body that the people who saw them said afterwards, with honest conviction, those two slept together before. And though Shichijo hadn't asked Saionji himself, he had eyes; he had a brain.
He had a jealousy streak about ten miles wide, and the only consolation he had was that Saionji didn’t always walk around with a limp.
But thinking further about that only upset Shichijo more. He shoved into Nakajima. Hard.
Nakajima nearly bit through his lip in an attempt to not make a noise when Shichijo's cock nearly tore him apart. He squeezed his eyes shut, breathing hard and as silently as he could through his nose, leaning his head against the cool wall. He thanked his own foresight that he had consciously relaxed his body beforehand, or else it would have hurt more than it did now, and now it hurt as though someone had pressed a hot iron inside him. Which wasn't that much different, actually.
He licked up the blood on his lip as the pain gradually, slowly, faded into numbness. His vision spun slightly; it must’ve been the endorphins. The adrenaline in the blood heightened his senses, chasing away his dizziness and the roaring in his ears. He took a deep breath, exhaling slowly before pushing backwards against Shichijo's erection.
"Saionji is only willing with me because I remind him of you," Nakajima stated, and was very proud of the fact that his voice did not shake. "And when have I ever said that I was going to rape him? There are... other ways."
"Ah," Shichijo's eyes glazed over with the verbal confirmation that his best friend did in fact sleep with his rival. Without warning, he pulled out slightly, almost completely, and slammed in again. And again. "I'll believe your pretty lies," he responded somberly, "if he ever does come to me instead of you."
Nakajima pressed his left hand against his mouth, biting down on the fleshy part of his palm as he trembled under the onslaught. Shichijo's cock brushed against his prostate, and that sudden spark of pleasure made him heady, and he leaned even more on the wall, spreading his legs wider to find his balance. He let his hand drop from his mouth.
"Perhaps," he said when he had regained control of himself, "he would do that if you actually did something about that ridiculous situation of yours. Following him like a dog all day and not touching him... placing him on a pedestal when he doesn't want to be... no wonder he comes to me. At least I am willing to fuck him into a mattress when he wants to be." He turned his head, meeting cold violet eyes with his own mocking blue ones as he pushed back against Shichijo's thrusts. The pleasure was starting to overwhelm the pain, and damn if Nakajima was going to show his rival any of the latter.
A feral growl escaped Shichijo's throat, but was quickly cut off with a vicious kiss. This was not at all what he had in mind when he asked Saionji whether he could bite Nakajima, but he bit. The salty tang of blood told him what he was doing was wrong, but just as he registered that, there was a soft gasp - but both their mouths were occupied.
Nakajima's eyes slid to the side, taking in wide grey-gold eyes and the look of disturbed fascination and shock. He pulled away from Shichijo forcefully, licking up the trail of blood escaping from the corner of his lips. He licked at Shichijo's lips, letting the other boy taste Nakajima's own blood, before he whispered, "Looks like your wish came true. We have am audience."
He turned towards Iwai, smirking grotesquely, blood tinting his teeth and lips bright red. "Isn't it rather late to be prowling about at night, Iwai? Shinomiya wouldn't be pleased, na?"
The poor student Head of the Art Club... Shichijo almost felt sorry for Iwai. Almost, because at the moment, he was inside of Nakajima. "Saa," he placed his hands on Nakajima's hips and started fucking him, just fucking him, aiming for his prostrate even while he held the other boy still. "Iwai-san is free to do as he pleases, whether prowling or sticking around to watch... Do you want Shinomiya-san to become part of our audience?" On a whim, Shichijo reached around in front, wrapping a hand around Nakajima's rigid shaft, and began to stroke him.
Nakajima gasped, a sharp indrawn breath through his teeth as he snapped his head away from Iwai's gaze, gritting his teeth so tightly that his tendons stood out so as not to make a sound. His clenched his hands into white-knuckled fists, leaning his whole weight against his arms and the wall as he arched backwards, thrusting back and forth between the hot, hard cock inside him and the too-slow hand stroking his cock. He was not unaware of their audience either: the knowledge of those eyes on him, watching his every move, sent a hot streak of pleasure down his spine. Nakajima would personally make sure that their little... performance here would not disappoint the artist. ‘After all, isn't an artist a connoisseur of art?’
He turned his head back, capturing Shichijo's lips into a fierce kiss, nipping and sucking on already-bruised lips and sparring with that poisonous tongue. Eventually, he pulled away, licking at his own lips for a moment before speaking, "Such an exhibitionist, Shichijo. Aren't you ashamed of yourself now?" His tone was mocking and toxic despite the slight hitch in his breath.
Shichijo gave as good as he got, kissing and fucking Nakajima against the wall with such ferocity that Iwai couldn't help but simply stare, momentarily forgetting about his trip back to his studio. There was something beautiful about the violence and the repression in this scene, the artist thought, but as far as Shichijo was concerned, this was as far from repression as it was from an act of love.
"Ashamed?" The silver haired boy sneered, "You're the one who keeps bringing up exhibitionism, Nakajima." As if it wasn't obvious enough. "Are you uncomfortable with it," he jerked both of them back to give their voyeur a better view, "Or does this get you off?"
"So what if it does?" Nakajima chuckled, gripping the hair at the base of Shichijo's neck, pulling the other boy forward as he attacked the exposed throat and collarbones. He licked a long line from the hollow of the throat to the chin, paying extra attention to the Adam's apple before continuing, "At least I dare to admit it. Such repression isn't good for your health, Shichijo."
He could feel the edges of his vision grey, signaling his approaching orgasm, but he slammed down the walls of his control. Not yet; not before Shichijo did. Nakajima arched his head back, biting down on the join of Shichijo's neck and shoulders, cleaning the hickey with his tongue. Kissing Shichijo hard, he let the other boy taste the metallic quality of his own blood as he concentrated, clenching down hard on the cock inside of him.
"Are you enjoying this, Iwai?"
Shichijo didn't care to hear the answer. Rather, he frowned slightly, and shifted his hands, the one on Nakajima's hip moving to wrap securely around his waist, and the one on his erection to lift his thigh up. If the other boy lost balance, well, he was facing the wall. It'd support him up. With the change of angle, he grunted, "Enjoy this," and thrust in with renewed vigor, as if he knew Nakajima was trying to get him off first, and fighting him all the way to the finish.
Nakajima thanked his karate training mentally as he tried to balance on one leg, the other twining around Shichijo's. His left hand slapped against the wall loudly as he leaned against it, hissing out a breath as the sudden change of positions and speed stimulated his prostate even further. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Iwai finally getting his wits back together and fleeing the scene, but he ignored it. His right hand moved downwards to stroke Shichijo's balls, dragging blunt nails across the surface as he rubbed them in his hands.
Hell if he was going to let Shichijo win this round.
But hell if Shichijo was going to let Nakajima be smug about coming last.
He bit into his rival's shoulder and sucked viciously to keep from crying out loud, letting his own nails leave their mark on Nakajima as surely as the other boy marked him until finally, finally, even he could not stand it any longer. Shichijo reached down to jerk Nakajima off. Fast.
Nakajima's back bowed, pressing against Shichijo's chest, turning his head around and drawing a earlobe into his mouth, sucking and nibbling on it ferociously as he held back his voice through the sheer force of will. His vision turned white, graying more at the edges as he came hard into Shichijo's hand just as he felt Shichijo spasm and heat rushing into his bruised insides. He trembled slightly, both hands braced against the wall, clenched into tight fists as he rode out his orgasm, rocking back slightly against Shichijo, clenching himself around the other boy as if to milk him as much as possible.
Shichijo pushed into Nakajima as deep as he could go, faintly aware that they'd both found release at about the same time, and only somewhat disappointed by that fact. When he could, he lowered the other boy's leg, his movement slowed by fatigue, and smeared the come on his hand over Nakajima's taut stomach. He registered the blood on his tongue again, this time without the haze of passion, and quickly removed himself, pulling out at the same time, stepping back.
‘...Gods.’
Nakajima hissed in pain as the pleasure and the adrenaline faded and he felt his body without the fog of pleasure and lust shielding him. He straightened, stepping towards the wall and leaning a shoulder against it, panting harshly; eyes half-closed as he tried to keep the pain he felt from his face. He knew the sight he made: blood dripping down his thighs and smeared all over his ass and legs, come drying on his shirt, making it almost unbearably sticky, blood on his lips and teeth and chin from biting his own lip to near-shreds, pants and boxers pulled to his ankles, the bite mark on his shoulder bruising into a lovely purple color... oh yes, he knew exactly how he looked like even without a mirror. Chuckling hoarsely, he raised an eyebrow at the wide-eyed Shichijo, licking his lips clean.
"Admiring your handiwork?"
'...Gods.' There was no point in hiding his gaze. Shichijo looked Nakajima over as if watching a train wreck happening. He couldn't tear his eyes away even as he stepped back, couldn't ignore the fact that there was blood and bruising and Nakajima screamed for more sex and violence and... 'I did this.'
Shichijo was horrified.
Somehow, after a long bout of silence, he found his voice again. "If this is something you think should be admired, then you might as well see if Iwai-san would like to make something of it."
With that, Shichijo turned to leave, adjusted his clothes until they were proper again, as proper as they could be when his shirt couldn't be closed anymore. Oh, he had spares. There'd be no big deal if someone found some stray buttons in the corridor tomorrow, but this...
"Now, will you leave me alone?"
Nakajima shifted his body until his back was to the wall, leaning almost his whole weight against it because he didn't think that his legs could support any sort of weight right now. At Shichijo's words, at the horrified look in those eyes, Nakajima laughed lowly.
"If this is what happens when I push you too far, Shichijo, remind me to do it more often." He grinned, pulling up his pants and buckling his belt, uncaring of the stains on his clothes and his general disheveled state. It wasn't as if anyone else would see him like this anyway. Stepping forward, he tapped Shichijo on the chin, smirking widely.
"I'm not Saionji. And I won't break easily. If you want to work off more tension this way, feel free to come to me. Just don't hide those pretty violet eyes again, na?" His tone was teasing, near-mocking as he stepped back and started walking off. But he stopped halfway, turning his head back.
"It was fun for me as well, and neither of us won this round. So stop making that face already."
Long after they returned to their own rooms, those words echoed in Shichijo's ears.
End
Continued in Surfacing: Set