"You ever catch any of those fucking monks fornicating and shit?"

"My dad won't allow it! If they--"

"Ah fffuck!"

"Hiruma-kun --!"

"He's alright," Musashi says, nodding, reassuring Kurita.

Hiruma lifts his head up from the floor just to say, "You've stuck it in this far, you fucking fatty -- I swear if you stop I'm gonna fucking kill you."

Which is, somehow, enough to convince Kurita to go on. "O-okay," he says with a tiny chuckle.

Anyway, Kurita knows, just as well as Musashi knows, that Hiruma isn't going to kill anyone in the room at this point -- besides that he hasn't got any of his guns presently on him. As a matter of fact, all Hiruma has on -- barely -- is his borrowed monk's robe. Its loose sleeves have slid halfway down his arms, baring the straight, sharp line of his shoulders, and the rest is hitched up around his waist, baring the slim length of his parted legs and the red, hard swell of his arousal. His skin, while normally pale, is still a bit flushed from his soak in the hot springs a little earlier. And between Hiruma's legs, there's the chunky mass of Kurita's hand, its forefinger slipped into Hiruma's ass.

When Kurita moves his hand again, turns his finger inside Hiruma, Hiruma shifts and twists and jerks, but unlike a little while back, when they've started, Musashi can see more a sense of pleasure than discomfort on Hiruma's face, in the slight frown across his shut eyes and the worried corner of his bottom lip. When Kurita shifts the angle of his finger and pushes it in even further, Hiruma's back arches high against the tatami. Musashi stares at the sensual curve of Hiruma's neck, throat slick and glistening in the yellow light. And then Hiruma turns to him, and there's a trace of a smirk in his gaze the moment their eyes meet. This makes Musashi move his hand again under his own borrowed robe, curl his fingers tighter and rub his thumb harder around the tip of his erection.

It isn't the easiest thing to just sit and watch, so he tries to squeeze his eyes shut against the breathy little noises Hiruma's making. When he opens them again, he sees Hiruma rocking himself against Kurita's finger, but then Musashi turns to Kurita and he promptly sits up. The blush across Kurita's puffy cheeks is gone entirely and his face's taken on a pallid color. Sweat's pouring all over him that his robe looks almost soaked. It is, however, the slight way his head's bent, and the little twist of agony across his fluttering eyes, and his visible laboring for breath that makes Musashi feel a slight shift in his chest, as if his heart's suddenly too thick and its beating too rapid. Hiruma moving his body like this, and swearing and making these long, low sounds from what Kurita's doing to him -- it's probably all too much for the big guy, this being his first time. Or just him being Kurita.

"Kurita, hey."

But Kurita doesn't hear Musashi -- probably can't hear anything else at this point, too. Or see anything behind the dots of tears in his eyes.

Promptly Musashi rises to his knees, unties his robe, and dips his hand in the same little jar Kurita has. Then, in a bit of a hurry, he slathers the fragrant oil on his erection, making him buck, and once he's done he places a fist on Kurita's shoulder and gives it a gentle shake.

Kurita snaps his head up, turns to Musashi over his shoulder.

"Kurita," Musashi says to him, again reassuring, "I'll take care of this. It's alright."

"Musashi-kun?"

Grabbing Kurita's forearm, Musashi slowly pulls until Kurita's finger has slid all the way out of Hiruma.

"What the --" Hiruma looks up, at once surprise, frustration, and annoyance all across his scowl. "The fuck you do that for, you fucking old man?!"

"Kurita's done for the night," Musashi tells him, and before Hiruma can growl anything back, he lifts Hiruma's legs, pressing the back of Hiruma's knees down to his shoulders, and sinks himself deep in that tight, tight heat where Kurita's finger has just been.

Hiruma flicks his head to the side and presses back against Musashi, grinding his hips, and Musashi drives and shoves harder until he can no longer bite back a moan from all the hot, heady sensations. Over the wet scent of Hiruma's skin, his sex, his lust, Musashi can smell traces of the burning incense from the temple, and for a moment he's worried they're possibly too loud for the monks.

Then he turns to Kurita, and Musashi smiles somewhat when he sees a hint of pink back on his face. Kurita's lain on his side, against the nearest wall, watching Musashi fuck Hiruma with a soft, curious look in his damp eyes. He's got his wet finger clutched to his chest, his other hand curved over it. When Hiruma lets loose a throaty cry and Musashi comes inside his trembling body, Kurita's entirely still, intent, and probably just a bit... fascinated.

Ignoring every resisting poke or press of Hiruma's hands and elbows, Musashi lays his sated body right on top of him. He grabs at the bleached spikes of Hiruma's hair and shuts him up -- somewhat -- with a brave, firm kiss. Then he turns once again to the only other person in the room and says to his tomato-red face, "You ready for high school, Kurita?"

Kurita smiles until his eyes are just a happy pair of lines, and Hiruma scoffs at him.

But the next day, after their second practice on their first day at Deimon High School, Hiruma drops on his back right on top of Kurita's equally spent body on the football field. Smirking, Musashi stands before the bench and watches the sprawled Hiruma rising and falling over Kurita's heaving chest.

After he's caught his breath, Kurita says, "Hiruma-kun."

"Don't say anything stupid, fucking fatty."

"... Maybe next time I could, um, do to you what you do to Musashi-kun."

Musashi freezes for a moment, because it's not like Kurita offering to put his mouth on someone's crotch is as standard as Kurita stuffing himself with ramen or cream puffs.

"Suck me off?!" Hiruma bristles. "Not on your fucking fat life! Hell! You could literally eat my fucking dick!"

"Hiruma-kun!" Kurita sticks out his bottom lip. "You say it like I'm some kinda monster."

"Fucking shut up! And you shut the fuck up, fucking old man!"

But Musashi's unable to stop laughing, because Kurita really is funny as heck sometimes, and Hiruma, too. "I can't," he says, between laughs. "I'm having too much fun." And so Hiruma jumps to his feet to shut him up with a surly kiss and Kurita starts to pick himself up from the grass to throw his chunky arms around them.

END