FIC: 014. Time (or Countrified Crack of the Weiss Kreuz Kind)
Hello, all! I'm new to this comm, and thought I should come bearing gifts. I hope y'all enjoy crackfic, cuz this here sure is a doozy!
[/being ridiculous]
Title: 014. Time (or Countrified Crack of the Weiss Kreuz Kind)
Author: newtypeshadow
Beta: Arcanelight
Pairing: Schuldig/Ran
Rating: NC-17
Warnings: crackfic, questionable consent
Notes: Written for the slash_me_twice challenge (table here), and in response to Rosalyn_Angel’s prompt “cowboys." X-posted to ayaxschuldig and wk_fiction.
Ran woke with the dawn and the familiar crowing of the rooster, and was dressed and shaved and loading the family wagon with produce and milk for market before the second breakfast bell rang. He washed his hands in the spigot outside the kitchen, wiped his boots on the store-bought mat just outside the open screen door, and walked inside the house.
His stomach growled as he sat down to a steaming plate of grits, bacon and eggs, and a glass of fresh milk. His sister smiled sweetly across the table at him, and his father and mother, sitting on either side of him, bowed their heads in prayer and held out their hands. His father said grace, as he always did, and then they all tucked into their food.
They’d only been eating a minute or two when Mr. Fujimiya said, “Ran, remember what I told you,” around a mouthful of sausage.
Ran nodded importantly. “I’ll keep to the main road.”
“No shortcuts-and I mean it! With those bandits still on the loose-”
“I know, Father,” he said.
Mr. Fujimiya shook his head. “If that sow wasn’t gonna give birth any minute now, I’d go myself.” His fist clenched around his fork, and he pointed it at Ran. “You remember to take the shotgun now-”
“He knows, Daddy,” Aya cut in. “Ran, will you pick up something for me in town?”
As if he could say no to her. “What would you like?”
“Now Aya,” their mother began, “money’s tight what with the last wagonload stolen like it was.” She froze. Mr. Fujimiya’s expression was pained. “That is to say,” Mrs. Fujimiya amended, looking swiftly back at Aya as if she hadn’t noticed her slip-up, “we can’t afford some things right now. Be patient, dear-after this trip to market and the next, you can ask your brother to get things for you again.”
Aya nodded, but her lower lip stuck out in a pout. And as Ran knew she would, she came up to him as he was hitching up the horse to the wagon after breakfast and pulled on his sleeve. “Ran, could you please pick something up for me-if you can?”
“You remember what Mother said.”
She dug her toe into the ground and nodded, but didn’t let go of his sleeve.
Ran sighed. “Alright. What is it you want?”
Aya brightened immediately. “I want one of the Wanted posters!” she chirped.
If his jaw had hit the ground, Ran wouldn’t have been surprised. “B-but Aya! If Father catches you with one of those he’ll-he’ll tan your hide!”
“He won’t catch me,” she replied with a smile. “I just want to see who it was that took the wagon.”
“Don’t upset him any more about that, Aya. He still thinks it was his fault.”
Aya frowned. “But there are four of them and only one of him. How could he blame himself?”
Because he’s a man, Ran thought. But Aya wouldn’t understand that answer. “Because-he’s Father,” he finished lamely.
Aya raised an eyebrow and said with finality, “I want a poster. Get me one?”
Ran opened his mouth to say no, but was cut off by his mother’s shout of “Get a move on!” from the barn door.
“Thanks, Ran!” Aya shouted, dashing off to finish her morning chores. Ran sighed; I guess I’m getting her that Wanted poster, he thought glumly, tipping the brim of his cowboy hat over his eyes and climbing up into onto the bench.
The ride to town was uneventful. He took the main road and got there in one piece, sold the produce and milk, and got a good sum for it, much of which went to buying feed for the cows, seeds for the vegetables his mother wanted to grow, tools for his father, and the usual food and amenities needed for the farm that were stolen last trip to market.
As he was leaving, he stopped by the post office to pick up the mail. Against his better judgment, he also picked up a Wanted poster for his sister. “You be careful now,” the clerk warned as Ran was leaving, “Them Schwarz boys are a dangerous bunch.”
Ran nodded absently and climbed into the wagon. He gave the Wanted poster a quick glance and then put it aside. And then picked it up again. One of the bandits looked….no, he shouldn’t think that way. It was unchristian. He snapped the reigns and the horse started the plodding walk back to the farm. He took the main road back, and tried not to think of what would happen if he actually did see that long-haired bandit.
Ran was a mile and a half from the farm when it happened. The late afternoon sun was bright overhead, and the heat made the road shimmer like the drink of water Ran so desperately wanted. He leaned into the back to get his canteen, and when he turned back to the road there were two men with shotguns aimed square at his chest blocking his way.
He pulled on the reigns, heart thumping wildly in his chest. This wasn’t supposed to happen! He’d stuck to the main road, just like Father said!
The wagon shuddered and Ran whipped around. And when he did, he locked gazes with piercing blue eyes and the face of the man in the Wanted poster who made him feel…things. Ran blinked. The man’s fiery hair was held back by a green bandanna, and a scuff of dirt streaked across one tan cheek. He wore jeans and a worn cotton shirt, store-bought from the looks of it. And suspenders. Ran felt himself frown. For some reason, it seemed odd to him that a bandit should wear suspenders.
The bandit stepped gingerly over a sack of feed and picked up Ran’s canteen. He twisted off the cap and took a leisurely drink, all the time watching Ran with shrewd eyes. Ran watched the bobbing of his Adam’s apple with fascination. The bandit capped the canteen after long moments and tossed it aside. It landed with a muffled rustle that sounded suspiciously like a head of lettuce being squished. The bandit wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. “Like what you see?” he grinned.
Ran startled. He could feel himself beginning to blush.
The horse whinnied and Ran turned, strange spell broken, to find a man with an eye patch and short silver hair griping the reigns and staring predatorily into its eyes. Fear coiled in Ran’s belly once more. These were the people who’d managed to steal the money and much of the food from his father-a strong man and a capable marksman. They’d killed before, he knew. What if they killed him instead of just stealing the wagon?
But they couldn’t steal the wagonload, either-he might as well die if that happened. His family needed this money, this food, these tools. Otherwise, they might go into debt. To be beholden to one’s neighbors-to the bank-that went far beyond the shame of being stolen from.
The two blocking the road stepped closer, shotguns still aimed and ready to fire. “Take his gun,” the one with eyeglasses said.
The red-haired bandit picked up the gun from next to Ran while Ran stared dumbly at the hand reaching past him. “Come with me,” the redhead said silkily. Ran stood mechanically and jumped to the ground. The bandit jumped from the side of the wagon and pointed the gun at Ran. “Walk,” he said, motioning with the gun into the Kudoh cornfield. With a last sorrowful look at the wagon, Ran did as he was told.
“Stop,” he heard, and “Turn around.” When Ran did so, and found he could no longer see the road. The bandit looked him up and down and smirked. Ran felt self-conscious in his undershirt and home-made cotton shirt, a checkered blue and white that made his eyes stand out, but the underarms of which were sweat-stained. He tried not to fidget and held his head high. If he was going to die here, he was going to die a man.
The bandit studied Ran and seemed to come to a decision. He tipped off Ran’s hat off with the shotgun, stepped back again, and lowered the gun slightly. “What’s your name, kid?”
Glancing down at his hat with some confusion, Ran said, “You don’t look like you’re old enough to be calling me that,” before he could stop himself.
To his surprise, the bandit just laughed. “That’s fair,” he said. “So what’s your name?”
“R-Ran. Ran Fujimiya.”
The bandit nodded to himself. “I thought you looked familiar.” He pulled a chain from under his shirt and Ran gasped. It was the locket his father had taken to have fixed at the watch store two markets ago!
“How do you have that?”
The bandit raised an eyebrow. “I took it from-he must have been your father.”
“Why would you want that? It’s not worth any money-it’s not worth anything to you!”
“You ask a lot of questions for someone on the wrong end of a gun,” the bandit snapped.
Ran shut up.
The bandit laughed. “I like your spirit, kid. So listen-I’ve got a proposition for you.” When Ran kept silent, he rolled his eyes. “Look-you give me an hour of your time, do what I say for that long, and we’ll let you go home, loaded wagon and all.”
Ran gaped. “Really?”
The bandit gaped mockingly. “Really.”
His jocular manner reminded Ran he should be a lot more angry than thankful. “What about the locket?” he demanded.
The bandit twisted the locket around his finger and dropped it back down his shirt. “Maybe next time,” he said with a wink.
Ran frowned. What was that supposed to mean?
“So, you game?”
“…An hour?” he said. “I do what you say for an hour, and you promise to let me go with all of our stuff?”
The bandit smiled close-mouthed. “As surely as the sun is shining,” he said. “But if you try to run, or you go back on your word-” he trailed off, but the threat was clear in the set of his chin, the sharpness of his eyes.
Ran nodded jerkily. “Alright. Just-tell them not to touch the wagon.”
The bandit shrugged. “Of course.” He raised the gun in the air, lifting it over the cornstalks. It glinted gunmetal gray in the sunlight before he lowered it, flicked on the safety, and dropped it as carelessly as he had the canteen. “C’mere.”
“Er…what?”
The bandit reached for the gun and Ran swiftly complied with his last order. The bandit smirked and straightened. “Closer,” he said. Ran took another step closer. He was scarcely a foot from the man now, could see the grit on his cheek and smell the gun oil and tang of sweat on the man’s clothes.
Suddenly, the man grabbed him and smashed their bodies together. Ran gasped in surprise, his hands coming up to shove the other man away automatically, and then their lips were crushed together and Ran couldn’t think very well at all. His hands froze on the bandit’s shirt, and his heart began to beat wildly for a different reason than before. This was much different from kissing Sakura when he was little, he thought crazily, and then the bandit nipped his lip and Ran’s eyes closed at the sensation of pleasure that pooled in his belly.
His next conscious thought was that this really was unchristian of him and how could he face the pastor next Sunday when a bandit’s hands on his back, on his…his…rear…was making him flush with excitement and push forward to ease the pressure in his jeans?
And that thought did it-what would his pastor think? Ran ripped his lips away, ripped himself away, feeling as he did the dizziness of want left unsatisfied as if it was physical pain. “What-” he gasped, “Why-”
The bandit stepped forward and Ran swayed before remembering he should step back, not lean in. The other man chuckled. “My hour’s not up-get back here, kid.”
“I’m-I’m not a-” A whore, he thought wildly. He’s treating me like a whore!
“Look, kid,” the bandit said, exasperation tingeing his words, “it’s you or your wagon. Could you look your little sister-” he pulled out the locket with a sneer, “could you look at her and say there was nothing you could do to keep from getting robbed? Could you look your mother in the face and tell that lie?”
Ran blanched. “But-but my father-”
“Your father won’t know unless you tell him. But imagine what it would do to him to find out everything was stolen this time-not just the cash and the food.”
Ran’s eyes widened. “No, please! You can’t!”
The bandit smiled coldly. “An hour,” he said, pulling on his sleeve to expose a leather wristwatch the likes of which Ran’s father could never have afforded without bankrupting the entire farm. “That’s all I ask. I’ll even let you hold the watch.”
Ran held out a shaking hand and took it from him, thumb pressing the glass face like the lifeline it was. “Ok.”
The bandit pulled him close again.
“Wait! Did-did you do this to my father, too?”
His response was a nasally laugh. “Hell no!” The bandit grinned down at Ran. “You’re special, kid. You actually get a choice. Now, are you done trying to waste my hour?”
Ran checked the time on the watch-3:12pm-and nodded. “Until…until 4?”
The bandit lifted Ran’s hand by the wrist and checked the watch. “Until 4:08, you cheater.”
“I’m not a-”
The bandit kissed him again. Ran didn’t know what to do at all. Did he stand there and let the bandit do what he wanted? Or did he-
“Kiss back, you idiot.”
Well, that answered that.
Ran felt drunk with kisses and the firecrackers exploding down his body whenever the bandit ground against him. Ran was doing it back involuntarily by the time he realized his jeans were being undone and shoved down. The sticky heat of the open air was cooler than it had been in his jeans, and the breeze through the cornstalks made him shiver and startle. “Wh-”
A kiss shut him up, and then he was being manhandled onto the ground, onto his front. His rear end was pulled into the air, against the bandit’s body, and he heard the rustle of clothes and zipper, and then felt something suspiciously hard and slightly wet pressing between his…cheeks.
Oh dear lord almighty in heaven he was going to be-be-was that even possible? He wasn’t a woman, but he’d heard of Sodom and Gomorrah in church. It had to be possible.
His nerves returned with a vengeance, and he felt himself growing less excited by the minute as his anxiety mounted.
“Relax,” the bandit said, palming Ran’s rear, “This’ll only hurt a little.”
Ran shoved his face into his elbows and willed himself not to scream, no matter how much it hurt. He heard a bottle being uncorked like a gunshot, and then felt a steady hand grip his hip. Slick fingers trailed down his…and wrapped around him and ohthatfeltsogooddon’tstopdon’tstopdon’t-
He barely noticed the fingers had strayed until he felt them circling his anus. He felt like a skunk for thinking it felt like the best kind of torture, but soon he was pressing back against a finger that had found its way inside his body-inside him!-and was crooked and pushing something that sent shockwaves through Ran’s entire body. He was sure he was making noises, grunting and moaning like a whore probably grunted and moaned, but he couldn’t stop, couldn’t do more than press back and press back and then nearly wail when there were no more fingers to press against.
But then he felt a shadow across his back, and Ran tensed. “Don’t do that,” the bandit said, soft and sweet like a lover was supposed to sound. He wrapped a hand around Ran’s penis and pulled once, twice, and Ran felt himself nearly explode. But then the hand was gone, and something…something that wasn’t a finger was pressing into him.
And it hurt.
“Relax,” the bandit said, pushing into Ran’s body with slow movements that still felt entirely too fast, entirely too real and big to be happening to that tiny little hole.
Ran winced and pressed hard on the watch in his hand. He wanted to check it, but his eyes were squeezed shut against his shirt, and a tear was leaking out onto his sleeve. Please stop, he thought, Please stop.
And then, miraculously, it did. There was still something inside him, something that felt too large and too alive pulsing quietly there, like a snake in its den, but there was no movement, and soon, Ran’s breathing evened out, and he opened his eyes.
The bandit seemed to see that he was, if not comfortable, at least not going to scream anymore.
Well, he thought he wasn’t going to scream.
Because then the bandit moved, a slow rocking out and then back into Ran, and he thought it didn’t hurt so much as feel odd, and then it didn’t feel odd so much as good enough to scream down the sun from the sky. The angle shifted and suddenly that hard, hot, too-big thing inside of him was hitting that spot that made him feel like he was flying with the lightning and the thunder. Over and over, in and out, hitting that spot. Ran felt like a stuck pig, but roasting over hot coals had never been sweeter than he felt right now.
And then the bandit’s hand wrapped around his body and gripped Ran’s own hardness and Ran was gone. Still the bandit touched him, and Ran wanted to cry with the pain of so much pleasure. Then the touches stopped and his hips were gripped roughly, every finger likely to leave a bruise Ran was sure he would press in the night to remind himself of this, and he felt wetness splash him from inside and heard grunting, a hiss, and felt a sweaty forehead against his back.
The two of them breathed audibly for what felt like an eternity, and then the bandit eased out of Ran’s body and said, “Alright.”
Ran lifted his head blearily, drunkenly, and heard the buzzing of bees, the swishing of cornstalks, the zipping of a zipper, and the straightening of clothes. He climbed unsteadily to his feet and then was pulled roughly against the bandit. Blue eyes peered thoughtfully into his own. The kiss that came then was almost chaste.
But when the bandit drew back he smacked Ran’s ass, and the wink that he tossed over his shoulder with a wave was decidedly lecherous. Ran startled at the smack and made to hit back, but tripped over his jeans, jammed around his ankles and kept on by his boots. He pulled them up savagely, embarrassment flooding his face and turning it tomato red. He couldn’t-he’d just-and the wetness sliding down his thighs was proof. He caught the dripping mess with hesitant fingers, and then wiped it on the dirt, and wiped the mud on the ankle of his jeans.
It was the sight of the shotgun lying unused on the dirt that made him remember: the wagon!
He picked up the shotgun, shoved the watch into his pocket, and dashed through the cornfield. When he reached the road, he nearly fell over in shock. There was the wagon, everything in place by the looks of it, and the horse munching happily on a pile of hay that was now sitting on the side of the road right at its feet. Ran climbed into the wagon with a bit of effort-his rear felt funny now that he thought about it. He’d been so frantic before, he hadn’t noticed that when he moved, he felt curiously…empty.
But he couldn’t think about that now. He had to get home. Who knew what time it was? His mother was probably worried sick!
Aya rushed out to meet him when he was within sight of the barn. She clambered up onto the bench beside him and threw her arms around him the minute he slowed the horses. “Where have you been? It’s almost six o’clock!” She drew back and shook his shoulders. “We were all so worried! We thought you’d been robbed-or killed!”
Ran smiled uneasily. “Don’t be silly-I took the main roads.”
“Good. I’m glad you’re ok. Where’s your hat?”
Ran froze. “It-it blew off.”
Aya rolled her eyes. “You’re so silly sometimes. So did you bring me the poster?”
“Of course,” Ran said, handing the paper off to her with some reluctance. But he shouldn’t feel that way. It was silly. After all, it wasn’t as if the bandit actually cared for him. He’d been used. He’d been used.
His jaw stiffened, but Aya didn’t notice. She was carefully folding up the poster into squares and slipping it into her shirt.
“Aya! You can’t put that there!”
His sister grinned up at him. “That’s precisely what Mother and Daddy will think, and that’s precisely why it’s safe here.”
Ran huffed and brought the wagon into the barn. And for the rest of the evening, everything was so normal he thought might go crazy.
That night he found the watch. It was in his pocket, its leather straps and glass face winking up at him in the candlelight. He wanted to crush it in his fist, but that would be foolish. He could go to another town where no one knew him and sell it-it would bring a lot of money to the farm, and they could certainly use it right now.
…but then the light caught a stone on the dial that Ran hadn’t noticed before. The stone was as blue as the bandit’s sharp eyes, and Ran sighed at the vivid memory and shoved the watch under his pillow. He couldn’t sell the darned thing. He smiled ruefully and climbed into bed, pulling up the sheets and burrowing his head against the pillow. No, he thought, hand slipping underneath to touch a leather strap, he definitely couldn’t sell it. After all, what if the two of them met again, and the bandit wanted it back?
[/being ridiculous]
Title: 014. Time (or Countrified Crack of the Weiss Kreuz Kind)
Author: newtypeshadow
Beta: Arcanelight
Pairing: Schuldig/Ran
Rating: NC-17
Warnings: crackfic, questionable consent
Notes: Written for the slash_me_twice challenge (table here), and in response to Rosalyn_Angel’s prompt “cowboys." X-posted to ayaxschuldig and wk_fiction.
Ran woke with the dawn and the familiar crowing of the rooster, and was dressed and shaved and loading the family wagon with produce and milk for market before the second breakfast bell rang. He washed his hands in the spigot outside the kitchen, wiped his boots on the store-bought mat just outside the open screen door, and walked inside the house.
His stomach growled as he sat down to a steaming plate of grits, bacon and eggs, and a glass of fresh milk. His sister smiled sweetly across the table at him, and his father and mother, sitting on either side of him, bowed their heads in prayer and held out their hands. His father said grace, as he always did, and then they all tucked into their food.
They’d only been eating a minute or two when Mr. Fujimiya said, “Ran, remember what I told you,” around a mouthful of sausage.
Ran nodded importantly. “I’ll keep to the main road.”
“No shortcuts-and I mean it! With those bandits still on the loose-”
“I know, Father,” he said.
Mr. Fujimiya shook his head. “If that sow wasn’t gonna give birth any minute now, I’d go myself.” His fist clenched around his fork, and he pointed it at Ran. “You remember to take the shotgun now-”
“He knows, Daddy,” Aya cut in. “Ran, will you pick up something for me in town?”
As if he could say no to her. “What would you like?”
“Now Aya,” their mother began, “money’s tight what with the last wagonload stolen like it was.” She froze. Mr. Fujimiya’s expression was pained. “That is to say,” Mrs. Fujimiya amended, looking swiftly back at Aya as if she hadn’t noticed her slip-up, “we can’t afford some things right now. Be patient, dear-after this trip to market and the next, you can ask your brother to get things for you again.”
Aya nodded, but her lower lip stuck out in a pout. And as Ran knew she would, she came up to him as he was hitching up the horse to the wagon after breakfast and pulled on his sleeve. “Ran, could you please pick something up for me-if you can?”
“You remember what Mother said.”
She dug her toe into the ground and nodded, but didn’t let go of his sleeve.
Ran sighed. “Alright. What is it you want?”
Aya brightened immediately. “I want one of the Wanted posters!” she chirped.
If his jaw had hit the ground, Ran wouldn’t have been surprised. “B-but Aya! If Father catches you with one of those he’ll-he’ll tan your hide!”
“He won’t catch me,” she replied with a smile. “I just want to see who it was that took the wagon.”
“Don’t upset him any more about that, Aya. He still thinks it was his fault.”
Aya frowned. “But there are four of them and only one of him. How could he blame himself?”
Because he’s a man, Ran thought. But Aya wouldn’t understand that answer. “Because-he’s Father,” he finished lamely.
Aya raised an eyebrow and said with finality, “I want a poster. Get me one?”
Ran opened his mouth to say no, but was cut off by his mother’s shout of “Get a move on!” from the barn door.
“Thanks, Ran!” Aya shouted, dashing off to finish her morning chores. Ran sighed; I guess I’m getting her that Wanted poster, he thought glumly, tipping the brim of his cowboy hat over his eyes and climbing up into onto the bench.
The ride to town was uneventful. He took the main road and got there in one piece, sold the produce and milk, and got a good sum for it, much of which went to buying feed for the cows, seeds for the vegetables his mother wanted to grow, tools for his father, and the usual food and amenities needed for the farm that were stolen last trip to market.
As he was leaving, he stopped by the post office to pick up the mail. Against his better judgment, he also picked up a Wanted poster for his sister. “You be careful now,” the clerk warned as Ran was leaving, “Them Schwarz boys are a dangerous bunch.”
Ran nodded absently and climbed into the wagon. He gave the Wanted poster a quick glance and then put it aside. And then picked it up again. One of the bandits looked….no, he shouldn’t think that way. It was unchristian. He snapped the reigns and the horse started the plodding walk back to the farm. He took the main road back, and tried not to think of what would happen if he actually did see that long-haired bandit.
Ran was a mile and a half from the farm when it happened. The late afternoon sun was bright overhead, and the heat made the road shimmer like the drink of water Ran so desperately wanted. He leaned into the back to get his canteen, and when he turned back to the road there were two men with shotguns aimed square at his chest blocking his way.
He pulled on the reigns, heart thumping wildly in his chest. This wasn’t supposed to happen! He’d stuck to the main road, just like Father said!
The wagon shuddered and Ran whipped around. And when he did, he locked gazes with piercing blue eyes and the face of the man in the Wanted poster who made him feel…things. Ran blinked. The man’s fiery hair was held back by a green bandanna, and a scuff of dirt streaked across one tan cheek. He wore jeans and a worn cotton shirt, store-bought from the looks of it. And suspenders. Ran felt himself frown. For some reason, it seemed odd to him that a bandit should wear suspenders.
The bandit stepped gingerly over a sack of feed and picked up Ran’s canteen. He twisted off the cap and took a leisurely drink, all the time watching Ran with shrewd eyes. Ran watched the bobbing of his Adam’s apple with fascination. The bandit capped the canteen after long moments and tossed it aside. It landed with a muffled rustle that sounded suspiciously like a head of lettuce being squished. The bandit wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. “Like what you see?” he grinned.
Ran startled. He could feel himself beginning to blush.
The horse whinnied and Ran turned, strange spell broken, to find a man with an eye patch and short silver hair griping the reigns and staring predatorily into its eyes. Fear coiled in Ran’s belly once more. These were the people who’d managed to steal the money and much of the food from his father-a strong man and a capable marksman. They’d killed before, he knew. What if they killed him instead of just stealing the wagon?
But they couldn’t steal the wagonload, either-he might as well die if that happened. His family needed this money, this food, these tools. Otherwise, they might go into debt. To be beholden to one’s neighbors-to the bank-that went far beyond the shame of being stolen from.
The two blocking the road stepped closer, shotguns still aimed and ready to fire. “Take his gun,” the one with eyeglasses said.
The red-haired bandit picked up the gun from next to Ran while Ran stared dumbly at the hand reaching past him. “Come with me,” the redhead said silkily. Ran stood mechanically and jumped to the ground. The bandit jumped from the side of the wagon and pointed the gun at Ran. “Walk,” he said, motioning with the gun into the Kudoh cornfield. With a last sorrowful look at the wagon, Ran did as he was told.
“Stop,” he heard, and “Turn around.” When Ran did so, and found he could no longer see the road. The bandit looked him up and down and smirked. Ran felt self-conscious in his undershirt and home-made cotton shirt, a checkered blue and white that made his eyes stand out, but the underarms of which were sweat-stained. He tried not to fidget and held his head high. If he was going to die here, he was going to die a man.
The bandit studied Ran and seemed to come to a decision. He tipped off Ran’s hat off with the shotgun, stepped back again, and lowered the gun slightly. “What’s your name, kid?”
Glancing down at his hat with some confusion, Ran said, “You don’t look like you’re old enough to be calling me that,” before he could stop himself.
To his surprise, the bandit just laughed. “That’s fair,” he said. “So what’s your name?”
“R-Ran. Ran Fujimiya.”
The bandit nodded to himself. “I thought you looked familiar.” He pulled a chain from under his shirt and Ran gasped. It was the locket his father had taken to have fixed at the watch store two markets ago!
“How do you have that?”
The bandit raised an eyebrow. “I took it from-he must have been your father.”
“Why would you want that? It’s not worth any money-it’s not worth anything to you!”
“You ask a lot of questions for someone on the wrong end of a gun,” the bandit snapped.
Ran shut up.
The bandit laughed. “I like your spirit, kid. So listen-I’ve got a proposition for you.” When Ran kept silent, he rolled his eyes. “Look-you give me an hour of your time, do what I say for that long, and we’ll let you go home, loaded wagon and all.”
Ran gaped. “Really?”
The bandit gaped mockingly. “Really.”
His jocular manner reminded Ran he should be a lot more angry than thankful. “What about the locket?” he demanded.
The bandit twisted the locket around his finger and dropped it back down his shirt. “Maybe next time,” he said with a wink.
Ran frowned. What was that supposed to mean?
“So, you game?”
“…An hour?” he said. “I do what you say for an hour, and you promise to let me go with all of our stuff?”
The bandit smiled close-mouthed. “As surely as the sun is shining,” he said. “But if you try to run, or you go back on your word-” he trailed off, but the threat was clear in the set of his chin, the sharpness of his eyes.
Ran nodded jerkily. “Alright. Just-tell them not to touch the wagon.”
The bandit shrugged. “Of course.” He raised the gun in the air, lifting it over the cornstalks. It glinted gunmetal gray in the sunlight before he lowered it, flicked on the safety, and dropped it as carelessly as he had the canteen. “C’mere.”
“Er…what?”
The bandit reached for the gun and Ran swiftly complied with his last order. The bandit smirked and straightened. “Closer,” he said. Ran took another step closer. He was scarcely a foot from the man now, could see the grit on his cheek and smell the gun oil and tang of sweat on the man’s clothes.
Suddenly, the man grabbed him and smashed their bodies together. Ran gasped in surprise, his hands coming up to shove the other man away automatically, and then their lips were crushed together and Ran couldn’t think very well at all. His hands froze on the bandit’s shirt, and his heart began to beat wildly for a different reason than before. This was much different from kissing Sakura when he was little, he thought crazily, and then the bandit nipped his lip and Ran’s eyes closed at the sensation of pleasure that pooled in his belly.
His next conscious thought was that this really was unchristian of him and how could he face the pastor next Sunday when a bandit’s hands on his back, on his…his…rear…was making him flush with excitement and push forward to ease the pressure in his jeans?
And that thought did it-what would his pastor think? Ran ripped his lips away, ripped himself away, feeling as he did the dizziness of want left unsatisfied as if it was physical pain. “What-” he gasped, “Why-”
The bandit stepped forward and Ran swayed before remembering he should step back, not lean in. The other man chuckled. “My hour’s not up-get back here, kid.”
“I’m-I’m not a-” A whore, he thought wildly. He’s treating me like a whore!
“Look, kid,” the bandit said, exasperation tingeing his words, “it’s you or your wagon. Could you look your little sister-” he pulled out the locket with a sneer, “could you look at her and say there was nothing you could do to keep from getting robbed? Could you look your mother in the face and tell that lie?”
Ran blanched. “But-but my father-”
“Your father won’t know unless you tell him. But imagine what it would do to him to find out everything was stolen this time-not just the cash and the food.”
Ran’s eyes widened. “No, please! You can’t!”
The bandit smiled coldly. “An hour,” he said, pulling on his sleeve to expose a leather wristwatch the likes of which Ran’s father could never have afforded without bankrupting the entire farm. “That’s all I ask. I’ll even let you hold the watch.”
Ran held out a shaking hand and took it from him, thumb pressing the glass face like the lifeline it was. “Ok.”
The bandit pulled him close again.
“Wait! Did-did you do this to my father, too?”
His response was a nasally laugh. “Hell no!” The bandit grinned down at Ran. “You’re special, kid. You actually get a choice. Now, are you done trying to waste my hour?”
Ran checked the time on the watch-3:12pm-and nodded. “Until…until 4?”
The bandit lifted Ran’s hand by the wrist and checked the watch. “Until 4:08, you cheater.”
“I’m not a-”
The bandit kissed him again. Ran didn’t know what to do at all. Did he stand there and let the bandit do what he wanted? Or did he-
“Kiss back, you idiot.”
Well, that answered that.
Ran felt drunk with kisses and the firecrackers exploding down his body whenever the bandit ground against him. Ran was doing it back involuntarily by the time he realized his jeans were being undone and shoved down. The sticky heat of the open air was cooler than it had been in his jeans, and the breeze through the cornstalks made him shiver and startle. “Wh-”
A kiss shut him up, and then he was being manhandled onto the ground, onto his front. His rear end was pulled into the air, against the bandit’s body, and he heard the rustle of clothes and zipper, and then felt something suspiciously hard and slightly wet pressing between his…cheeks.
Oh dear lord almighty in heaven he was going to be-be-was that even possible? He wasn’t a woman, but he’d heard of Sodom and Gomorrah in church. It had to be possible.
His nerves returned with a vengeance, and he felt himself growing less excited by the minute as his anxiety mounted.
“Relax,” the bandit said, palming Ran’s rear, “This’ll only hurt a little.”
Ran shoved his face into his elbows and willed himself not to scream, no matter how much it hurt. He heard a bottle being uncorked like a gunshot, and then felt a steady hand grip his hip. Slick fingers trailed down his…and wrapped around him and ohthatfeltsogooddon’tstopdon’tstopdon’t-
He barely noticed the fingers had strayed until he felt them circling his anus. He felt like a skunk for thinking it felt like the best kind of torture, but soon he was pressing back against a finger that had found its way inside his body-inside him!-and was crooked and pushing something that sent shockwaves through Ran’s entire body. He was sure he was making noises, grunting and moaning like a whore probably grunted and moaned, but he couldn’t stop, couldn’t do more than press back and press back and then nearly wail when there were no more fingers to press against.
But then he felt a shadow across his back, and Ran tensed. “Don’t do that,” the bandit said, soft and sweet like a lover was supposed to sound. He wrapped a hand around Ran’s penis and pulled once, twice, and Ran felt himself nearly explode. But then the hand was gone, and something…something that wasn’t a finger was pressing into him.
And it hurt.
“Relax,” the bandit said, pushing into Ran’s body with slow movements that still felt entirely too fast, entirely too real and big to be happening to that tiny little hole.
Ran winced and pressed hard on the watch in his hand. He wanted to check it, but his eyes were squeezed shut against his shirt, and a tear was leaking out onto his sleeve. Please stop, he thought, Please stop.
And then, miraculously, it did. There was still something inside him, something that felt too large and too alive pulsing quietly there, like a snake in its den, but there was no movement, and soon, Ran’s breathing evened out, and he opened his eyes.
The bandit seemed to see that he was, if not comfortable, at least not going to scream anymore.
Well, he thought he wasn’t going to scream.
Because then the bandit moved, a slow rocking out and then back into Ran, and he thought it didn’t hurt so much as feel odd, and then it didn’t feel odd so much as good enough to scream down the sun from the sky. The angle shifted and suddenly that hard, hot, too-big thing inside of him was hitting that spot that made him feel like he was flying with the lightning and the thunder. Over and over, in and out, hitting that spot. Ran felt like a stuck pig, but roasting over hot coals had never been sweeter than he felt right now.
And then the bandit’s hand wrapped around his body and gripped Ran’s own hardness and Ran was gone. Still the bandit touched him, and Ran wanted to cry with the pain of so much pleasure. Then the touches stopped and his hips were gripped roughly, every finger likely to leave a bruise Ran was sure he would press in the night to remind himself of this, and he felt wetness splash him from inside and heard grunting, a hiss, and felt a sweaty forehead against his back.
The two of them breathed audibly for what felt like an eternity, and then the bandit eased out of Ran’s body and said, “Alright.”
Ran lifted his head blearily, drunkenly, and heard the buzzing of bees, the swishing of cornstalks, the zipping of a zipper, and the straightening of clothes. He climbed unsteadily to his feet and then was pulled roughly against the bandit. Blue eyes peered thoughtfully into his own. The kiss that came then was almost chaste.
But when the bandit drew back he smacked Ran’s ass, and the wink that he tossed over his shoulder with a wave was decidedly lecherous. Ran startled at the smack and made to hit back, but tripped over his jeans, jammed around his ankles and kept on by his boots. He pulled them up savagely, embarrassment flooding his face and turning it tomato red. He couldn’t-he’d just-and the wetness sliding down his thighs was proof. He caught the dripping mess with hesitant fingers, and then wiped it on the dirt, and wiped the mud on the ankle of his jeans.
It was the sight of the shotgun lying unused on the dirt that made him remember: the wagon!
He picked up the shotgun, shoved the watch into his pocket, and dashed through the cornfield. When he reached the road, he nearly fell over in shock. There was the wagon, everything in place by the looks of it, and the horse munching happily on a pile of hay that was now sitting on the side of the road right at its feet. Ran climbed into the wagon with a bit of effort-his rear felt funny now that he thought about it. He’d been so frantic before, he hadn’t noticed that when he moved, he felt curiously…empty.
But he couldn’t think about that now. He had to get home. Who knew what time it was? His mother was probably worried sick!
Aya rushed out to meet him when he was within sight of the barn. She clambered up onto the bench beside him and threw her arms around him the minute he slowed the horses. “Where have you been? It’s almost six o’clock!” She drew back and shook his shoulders. “We were all so worried! We thought you’d been robbed-or killed!”
Ran smiled uneasily. “Don’t be silly-I took the main roads.”
“Good. I’m glad you’re ok. Where’s your hat?”
Ran froze. “It-it blew off.”
Aya rolled her eyes. “You’re so silly sometimes. So did you bring me the poster?”
“Of course,” Ran said, handing the paper off to her with some reluctance. But he shouldn’t feel that way. It was silly. After all, it wasn’t as if the bandit actually cared for him. He’d been used. He’d been used.
His jaw stiffened, but Aya didn’t notice. She was carefully folding up the poster into squares and slipping it into her shirt.
“Aya! You can’t put that there!”
His sister grinned up at him. “That’s precisely what Mother and Daddy will think, and that’s precisely why it’s safe here.”
Ran huffed and brought the wagon into the barn. And for the rest of the evening, everything was so normal he thought might go crazy.
That night he found the watch. It was in his pocket, its leather straps and glass face winking up at him in the candlelight. He wanted to crush it in his fist, but that would be foolish. He could go to another town where no one knew him and sell it-it would bring a lot of money to the farm, and they could certainly use it right now.
…but then the light caught a stone on the dial that Ran hadn’t noticed before. The stone was as blue as the bandit’s sharp eyes, and Ran sighed at the vivid memory and shoved the watch under his pillow. He couldn’t sell the darned thing. He smiled ruefully and climbed into bed, pulling up the sheets and burrowing his head against the pillow. No, he thought, hand slipping underneath to touch a leather strap, he definitely couldn’t sell it. After all, what if the two of them met again, and the bandit wanted it back?