Good for Nothing

by Kubaru Suki (少年好き配る)

(mirrors http://s2b2.livejournal.com/27148.html)

In our school, there are three things that everybody knows. The first thing is this: To mess with Katogi Risei (third year A class) is to risk certain death. This is because, even though he is only seventeen, Senpai is a senior advisor in the Kanto-kai. The yakuza. No matter how hard the teachers try to stop the rumors, they continue. Though Senpai has no visible tattoos and he wears the same uniform as the rest of us, everybody knows that he is Yakuza.

“Maekawa-senpai?”

Junichi paused in putting on his street shoes and looked up at the third-year girl hovering anxiously near his locker. “Senpai?” he inquired politely. He was still vaguely uncomfortable with the upperclassmen treating him with such politesse, despite the fact that it had been that way since his first year. He finished with his shoes, waiting, and when she continued to not say anything, he brushed his dark hair out of his eyes and blinked up at her. “May I help you?” he asked at last.

The girl gave a little start and clutched her schoolbag tightly. “I…I w-was wondering,” she stuttered helplessly, “if you would walk me h-home.”

“Um.” Junichi rubbed at his ear. “Why?”

The girl’s face went absolutely crimson. “There are some boys from Genshin Academy. Thugs,” she said quickly, “On my way home. By the park. So I… Well, I…And I…I can pay you!” she burst out.

“Um. Just a moment, please,” Junichi said at last. He fished his cell phone out of his pocket. One of the benefits of being in the Yakuza was getting to use his phone in school. He hit speed dial and waited.

“Junichi?”

“Katogi-senpai,” he started.

“Somebody must be there,” Risei said on the other end of the line. “Business?”

“Yes,” Junichi answered, “Protection. From Genshin Academy thugs.”

“Really. Who?”

Junichi put his thumb over the mouthpiece. “Name?” he asked the girl, even though he knew very well who she was; she was in Risei’s class, after all. Still, there were some procedures that needed to be followed.

“I’m Hirata Aiko. In 3-A. Senpai and I are in the same class.”

Ignoring her, Junichi uncovered the mouthpiece and relayed the information. “Really,” said Risei again. “The pretty one with the big breasts?”

Very carefully, Junichi did not look at the upperclass girl’s chest. “Probably.”

“Always a gentleman,” Risei laughed. Then, “I’m watching a fight out by the track. Can it wait?”

With an internal sigh, Junichi put his thumb back over the holes. “Katogi-senpai is busy supervising some corrective actions,” he said smoothly, “and wishes to know if your business is urgent.”

Hirata Aiko, if possible, went even redder than before. “It’s all right if it’s just you with me. I-if you a-and Senpai don’t mind, I mean,” she played nervously with the hem of her skirt. “If it’s not too much trouble. I’m sure it’s beneath Senpai’s interest.”

Junichi blinked slowly. “Um,” he temporized. He uncovered the phone. “She believes I’ll be sufficient,” he said.

Risei let out a low whistle. “Your call,” he said his voice a careless, verbal shrug. “I wouldn’t, but then, I’m the senior advisor.”

“Just so,” Junichi answered before shutting his phone with a click. He shrugged out of his school blazer and shoved it into his bag. “Just a moment, then,” he called over his shoulder to Hirata, jogging down the hall to his locker and pulling on the shiny, blue pinstriped jacket he kept there for ‘business’. Like the cell phone thing, the dismissal of proper school attire was a professional courtesy. He glanced in the mirror stuck to the inside of the door (yet another courtesy) and jerked the knot out of his school tie. He also flicked open the top button on his shirt and ruffled his hair into the appropriate spikes with a little bit of opaque silver styling gel. “Okay,” he said, rejoining Hirata, who was folding her skirt hem into tiny pleats. He gestured to the double doors, “Let’s go.” He sincerely hoped that there was going to be a mass of Genshin thugs at the park.

There was not a mass of thugs–from any school–at the park.

There was only a determined looking Hirata saying, “I know this seems sudden, but I love you, Maekawa-senpai. I know that, as his lieutenant, your first loyalty is always going to be to Senpai but I really think I have what it takes to be a Yakuza bride.”

The second thing everybody in our school knows: Senpai is very valued by the head of the Kanto-kai. So valued, in fact, that he has a scar on the underside of the littlest finger of his right hand. He tried to perform ‘yubitsume’, the ritual cutting off of his finger in a show of apology, but was stopped before he could do more than break the skin. Moreover, even though he was only fourteen at the time, Senpai was transferred to this town in order to expand the Kanto-kai to this region. If Senpai is unhappy, his crime family is unhappy. His position is that powerful.

“You know,” a voice interrupted Junichi as he ditched his blazer and rolled back the cuffs of his sleeves.

“No,” Junichi said, grabbing his lunch from his locker and heading for the relative solitude of the grounds.

“I had to shake Hirata down for the money this morning. Seems she ‘forgot’ to pay last night.”

“Don’t start, Risei,” Junichi said, plopping himself down in a gangling heap in the shade of a maple tree. He clutched his lunch resolutely and peeked up at Risei through his lashes. Risei was standing above him, the sunlight filtering down picking out the gold highlights of his hair, making him gleam even in the shade.

“So…” Risei sat down across from him with far more grace, folding in on himself elegantly, dropping his blazer on the ground beside him.

Junichi snorted. “Don’t even,” he warned.

“…you were hired to save Hirata Aiko, of class 3-A and of breasts double-D, from some thugs,” continued Risei, poking through his lunch.

“Oh, god,” Junichi groaned, dropping his head onto his chest.

“And yet,” Risei went on fatalistically, “no lowlifes were in evidence–because we took care of that problem two months ago, at least two months ago, mind you–and so…”

“Oh god,” Junichi hunched in further.

“I gather she confessed,” Risei finished, stuffing a spring roll into his mouth.

“She proposed,” Junichi corrected, still trying to disappear into himself. He gave up when he heard no sound from Risei. “You could at least choke in shock,” he muttered reproachfully as Risei blinked placidly at him.

Risei ticked up his index finger in the classic ‘just one moment’ signal and began digging in his blazer pocket. Junichi waited as he came up with his Blackberry, hit a series of buttons, and presented it to him. On the screen was a list of all the girls who’d confessed to Junichi in the last… (he scrolled down and down and down even more) two years. Risei swallowed thickly and said, “The shock sort of wore off when you were still in middle school and then I started keeping track. This isn’t even your first proposal.”

Junichi closed the list and went looking. “Hey, where’s your list?” he asked, nosing through the files.

Risei shrugged. “Don’t have one,” he said around a mouthful of food. “Hirata confessed to me when we were first year students and I told her that, because of my ‘situation’, the only person I could have feelings for was my lieutenant. Nobody bothered after that,” he went on when he’d finished chewing. “And I’m scary, so that helps.”

“I’m in the same line of work as you,” Junichi complained, “but I get three girls a week confessing to me. What’s wrong with them?”

“They’re not the problem. You are. You’re too nice,” said Risei at once. “You always know better, but you always go off with them and let them say their piece. You’re very apologetic when you turn them down. You’re deferential to them,” he listed. “You always finish walking them home. And you never make them pay.”

“…I can’t make them give me money when I’ve just turn down their love confessions,” Junichi winced. “That’s rude. It’s cruel.”

“It’s keeping you neck deep in girls,” Risei pointed out reasonably. “Turn ’em down flat. And don’t make me make them pay for it in the morning; it makes me feel like your pimp. But anyway, that will fix things. If you’re not going to eat, can I have your lunch?”

Junichi shoved his lunch over. “I can’t be so mean to them,” he said despairingly, watching Risei tuck into his food. “They’re so earnest about it. Pleading and hopeful. And nervous. It’d be like kicking a puppy.” He sat in silence for a while, contemplating. “There’s got to be something else,” he said at last.

Risei slanted an inscrutable look at him. “There is,” he said shortly, tearing into the cellophane wrapping on the sweets that had come with lunch. “I don’t know how well you’d like it, though.”

“Anything,” Junichi latched on to it. “As long as it makes them stop.”

Risei nodded. “Give me your hand.” Junichi held out his hand, letting Risei turn it palm up. Risei’s hand stayed under his, holding it warmly and comfortably steady. “Pudding marshmallows,” he said, holding two of them up between them before dropping them into Junichi’s hand.

“I don’t think giving them candy…” Junichi managed to say before Risei’s fingers covered his own and folded them over the marshmallows. Then he squeezed. Pudding squelched up between his fingers and spilled out the cup of his palm to dribble down his wrist. Junichi stared at the mess in his hand. “Great,” he muttered, dropping the marshmallows in the grass. “Did you have to?”

He tried to shake his hand out, to shake the pudding off, but Risei held it firmly in his own. “Oh, you’re not giving them the candy,” Risei said, bringing Junichi’s smeared hand up between them and dropping his eyes, “you’re giving me the candy.” And with that, Risei leaned forward and–

“Uh…” Junichi said, blinking hard as he watched Risei’s tongue slide over his wrist. “Um?”

“You see,” Risei said, his tongue darting out quick and pink and hot over his wrist again, “all the girls see is that you’re tall, you’re well built, you’ve got a handsome face, and those lovely eyes…”

“Um,” said Junichi. He didn’t understand girls. His eyes were a plain dove-gray. Nothing at all like, say, deep, lazy blue with gold flecks that could catch the sunlight and made the world turn light-headed and dizzy. Like Risei’s eyes, which were locked on his own as he tongue trailed slow heat across his palm. “What?”

“So,” Risei murmured, “the girls will never leave you alone unless somebody,” he interrupted himself to lap pudding from the space between Junichi’s fingers, “stakes an unchallengeable claim on you.”

As he watched, Risei’s lips closed around the tip of his index finger and slid down. Slowly. Sucking softly all the way down. “UM,” Junichi said urgently.

“Hmm?” Risei hummed questioningly at him as he leisurely (so very, very at his leisure-ly) slid his mouth off of Junichi’s finger again, his teeth scraping lightly along the top as he did so. The slick popping sound of Risei releasing him made Junichi forget what he’d been about to say. And do. He only realized that he’d left his finger against Risei’s mouth when Risei spoke again, his lips soft as they moved. “Junichi?”

Um,” Junichi answered very sincerely.

Risei tipped him a lazy smile. “That should take care of the girls for you,” he said. “Nobody’s going to try confessing to you since you’re mine now.”

Junichi watched in helpless fascination as Risei licked his hand one last, slow time, gathering off the rest of the pudding. “Um…thanks?” he offered lamely as Risei let him have his hand back.

“Hey, you want to go fool around under the bleachers?” Risei’s question was almost drowned out by several badly muffled shrieks from the open windows of the classrooms.

Junichi only barely heard them. “…yes?”

“Good,” Risei smiled and got to his feet, shoving his hands in his pockets while Junichi clambered to his own. “I have a science test that I need help studying for.”

“Oh. Um. Yeah. Me too.”

The third thing that is a common fact: Nobody really knows Senpai; he is mysterious. Nobody knows where Senpai lives. Nobody knows if this is for protection from his enemies or an effort to hide from the police. Nobody knows what business Senpai is running for the yakuza, aside from the sideline business (for fun, everybody knows) of taking care of the problem students at other schools. Trying to discover Senpai’s secrets is like trying to see stars in the full light of day–impossible and if you are not careful, it will cost you. The sun is more forgiving; you’ll be lucky if it is only your eyesight that you lose to Senpai.

“All right,” Junichi announced, slamming his way into Risei’s bedroom. “I—”

“Yes?” said Risei, who’d been lying on his back with a magazine held at arms length above him, as he turned his head to look at him. The lamplight caught his eyes, making the gold in them seem to glitter.

“Um,” he said.

Risei smiled lazily. “Oh, boy, here we go.”

“That’s it!” Junichi snapped his fingers. “That’s exactly what I was talking about.” Risei’s smile grew fractionally. “Don’t start!” Junichi warned. “You always do that! And I’ve had enough. No more!”

In reply, Risei tossed the magazine aside and sat up. “Junichi,” he said seriously, “why don’t you sit down and we’ll start this whole conversation again. Only this time,” he said, his smile flickering in and out of being a full-fledged grin, “I’ll be in on it from the very beginning. Okay?”

“No, it’s not okay,” Junichi said, flinging out his arm. “My hand itches. Because of you. Doing that thing with the pudding.”

Risei caught his hand and studied it closely. “Since when are you allergic to pudding?” he wanted to know.

“That’s not—” Junichi broke off and blinked. “What are you doing?”

“Blowing on your hand. What’s it look like I’m doing?” Risei answered before pursing his lips and blowing again. “It’s what you do for an itch.”

His breath flowed over Junichi’s hand warm and chill and distracting and engrossing. “Stop that,” he said. “It doesn’t itch.”

“Okay.” Risei said, looking slightly confused.

“No.” Junichi said, horribly aware that things were going horribly wrong. “It’s not okay. I’m so confused by you—”

“Me too.”

“—and I can’t figure you out—”

“Me neither.”

“—but I want you to blow something other than my hand,” Junichi finished.

Risei looked stunned. “Um,” he said.

“And I’ve been sending you signals for years. Ever since I was thirteen and—”

“You have not been,” Risei interrupted him. “If you had, I wouldn’t have just said ‘um’ to you.”

Junichi threw his free hand up. “Fine, then! I thought about it for years. But you kept doing stuff like today. With the licking and then the dragging me all the way out to the track, to climb underneath the back bleachers. We could have had big, hot, loud, messy, orgasmic sex back there and all we did was review for your fifth-period science test.”

“And yet you didn’t say a word about this then,” Risei said reflectively.

“I didn’t have a brain then! You licked it right off my hand and followed it up with ‘you’re mine now’ and ‘wanna fool around’.” Junichi glared at Risei crossly, “There’s a reason that I’m the lieutenant and you’re the boss and it’s got nothing to do with age and everything to do with the fact that you make me itch.”

Risei gestured carelessly with their joined hands, “And by itch you mean…?”

Junichi stared down at Risei sitting on the bed with a vaguely amused, vaguely expectant air and shook off his hand. “Um, look,” he said quietly, looking at Risei’s knees, “never mind.” He swallowed around a rather painful lump in his throat. “When you go to Tokyo next month,” he said, “I’m not…I’ll be staying here to finish. And, um,” he blinked blindly, “I’m going to um…not girls, obviously, but…and when I join you in Tokyo, we won’t remember this at all.” He whirled, heading for the door.

“Junichi.”

Risei’s voice was sharp and Junichi stopped despite himself, staring at the empty hallway framed by the open door. “Senpai?” he inquired carefully.

He heard the soft creak of the bed and the padding sound of Risei’s bare feet on the hardwood floor. “Like hell,” Risei said tightly, “you will ‘um’ at me and then not come to Tokyo and call me ‘senpai’. I can’t believe you’d even suggest that you’d stay here and ‘um’.”

“I was serious,” Junichi said. “And you weren’t. You…um,” he said as the door swung shut.

“I’m serious,” Risei said from directly behind him.

Junichi felt his heart kick and he tried to open the door, bracing one hand on the frame when it wouldn’t budge. “You were laughing at me.”

One of Risei’s hands covered his on the frame. “Of course I was,” the words whispered hotly over the nape of his neck. Risei’s other hand moved from where it had been holding the door shut to catch his wrist and drag his hand away from the door knob. “You’re just too cute. And,” he continued, the words humid against his fingers, “if you’d looked anything other than ‘shocked’ or ‘blankly horrified’—”

“I was so hard I wasn’t sure I could walk,” Junichi choked out as Risei bit the base of his thumb.

“—we would, indeed, have had adjectivally descriptive sex under the track’s back field bleachers. In point of all actual fact,” Risei went on matter-of-factly “we’d probably still be there, still having it.”

“You never said anything,” said Junichi, shivering as his shirt was slowly untucked. “You never even u-um,” he stuttered, losing his train of thought as Risei’s hands slid up his stomach, Risei’s chest pressing warmly against his back.

“No, I didn’t,” Risei breathed against his ear, his tongue teasing at the curve of it. “Given my position here, I felt like it’d be taking advantage of you.” Junichi jolted as Risei’s fingers flicked roughly over his nipples. “But since you went and changed the rules by which we were operating…” Risei pinched his nipples, rolling them, “I kept that list of girls because I’m a possessive bastard, Junichi. They couldn’t have you. You didn’t want them. You were mine.” The words were murmured against his cheek, hotly possessive.

“Yes,” Junichi moaned, turning his head and catching Risei’s mouth with his own. The kiss was hard and hot and messy and the angle didn’t help matters any. Junichi bit his own tongue trying to catch Risei’s lower lip. He tore his mouth away with a groan. “Risei…”

Risei slid one hand out of Junichi’s shirt and down over his groin, shaping him through his uniform pants. “Get these pants out of the way,” he ordered softly, flicking the buckle of Junichi’s belt. “They’re so baggy it’s no wonder we didn’t do it under the bleachers.”

“Um,” Junichi tried, fumbling with his belt. He leaned forward, pressing his overheated cheek against the significantly cooler wood of the door in an attempt to get more leverage. He yanked at his belt. “I get the same size you do. So that it doesn’t matter if they get mixed up when the laundry gets done.”

“That is both sweet and an incredible turn on. I like the thought of you in my pants,’ Risei murmured, sucking at the side of his throat.

Fingers working nervelessly, Junichi shuddered. “I can’t think at all,” he confessed.

“That’s why I’m the boss,” Risei reminded him. He pressed his hands flat over his chest and rubbed a hard circle. Junichi quaked as the sensation shot through him; he slipped the buckle and scrabbled at the button beneath it. “And as the boss, I am ordering you to get your pants out of the way. I’m running way behind in getting my hand on your cock.”

“God,” Junichi breathed, jerking his zipper down hastily. “Touch me,” he begged, shoving his pants down. “I want you to touch me. I want—um,” he broke off strangled cry.

“Um,” Risei said agreeably. Junichi could feel his smile against his shoulder. “Your nipples,” Risei said, rubbing one almost absently with his thumb, “are almost as hard as your cock.” His grip around Junichi tightened as he stroked once, as though to illustrate his point.

Junichi twisted and pressed his face into Risei’s neck, stifling the moan that tore its way out of him. A sharp tug at his hair made him cry out again, raw and unmuffled. “What—?” he asked in a daze.

Risei mouthed his shoulder. “I want to hear you.” He squeezed, stroking hard until the feeling made Junichi grind back against Risei’s hips, groaning. “That’s it,” Risei encouraged. “Let me hear you. Louder.”

Without meaning to, Junichi moaned again. “If you keep saying those things,” he warned, panting, “I’m going to come right away.”

“No,” Risei sounded dark and amused.

“I—oh, again, do that a—ah! I think I know what I’m talking about,” Junichi gasped, the words falling out in time to the staccato pace of his jerking hips.

“No,” Risei said again and Junichi felt his hold on his cock change, cupping just the head of it, twisting almost cruelly. “You’re going to come hard and you’re going to come right now.”

Junichi saw the dusty plaster of the ceiling for a moment before his eyes slammed shut, pleasure making his back bow as he stretched out along it, going up on the balls of his feet. “You’re the boss,” he managed to get out before Risei’s strong hands set off sparks like fireworks inside his brain.

Those three things, everybody knows them. Everybody.

But only Senpai and I know the truth.

Junichi had a moment to slump against the door, boneless and insensate, before the world tripped and whirled and swung around. He landed face down on Risei’s bed. “Um?” he asked in confusion. Then he felt a slick touch slide down his tailbone and a rush of silky-wet heat wash over his entrance.

“I’m going to take you like this,” Risei answered. “I’m going to give myself to you like this and you’re going to have me. On your knees now. Come on, up on your knees.”

It took effort to muster his uncoordinated limbs into cooperating. As he got his knees under him, one finger probed, pressing roughly inside of him. He hissed, pressing back into the intrusion. “Risei…”

“All right?” Risei asked, sounding a little worried but mostly like he’d been drugged. “Junichi?” He petted awkwardly at the small of his back and Junichi flexed into it.

“More,” Junichi moaned, tightening around Risei’s finger. “I can take more.”

He felt Risei tremble behind him. “We can’t rush this part,” he said shakily, but a second finger was pressing at him even as he said it.

Junichi rocked, taking it easily. “I do this to myself,” he confessed with a groan. “Thinking of you. Deeper,” he implored. He stiffened, moaning as Risei hit that place inside of him that he, on his own, couldn’t reach. “More,” he heard himself plead.

Risei swore crudely and Junichi shivered with it. “I can’t wait. I hope you’re ready.”

Yes,” Junichi replied, trying not to arch back and follow as Risei’s fingers left him.

The blunt, hard tip of Risei’s erection pushed at him; Junichi braced himself against it, trying to relax against the anticipation that was making him shake. He felt it breach the ring of muscles in a burn of pleasure and gratification and the insatiable greed for it made every muscle he owned clench tight. “Shit, Junichi,” Risei swore, his hands clutching Junichi’s hips in a firm grip. “Don’t do that. Don’t do that.”

Since Risei wasn’t moving, Junichi shoved himself back as hard as he could, feeling his body stretch to sheath Risei’s length. The metal of Risei’s belt buckle was obscenely, deliciously cold against his overheated backside. “Take me hard,” Junichi suggested.

Risei made a low, keening sound and his hips began to move in long, measured strokes that made Junichi twist and buck and throb. “I can’t…” Risei said, his thrusts shortening and getting rougher, less measured. “You feel so good,” he panted, his voice getting higher and faster, “I can’t. I’m not going to…I’m going to…”

“Come hard,” Junichi said, echoing him. “Come right now.”

Risei shouted, his hips snapped wildly, his hands went bruisingly hard. There was a wet splash of heat inside of him as, above him, Risei went achingly still. Then he collapsed forward and Junichi found himself crushing into the bedding. He waited until he could feel Risei softening inside of him before he twisted, shifting just enough so that he could turn his head. Risei shifted and Junichi smiled at him.

“You know,” he began.

“No,” Risei laughed weakly, “don’t even start.”

“I’m hard again,” he continued.

“Really.” Risei said conversationally. “I suppose this is something you think I should look into?” he asked. He was smiling his arrogant, business smile but it was tempered by his fingers carding gently, absentmindedly, through Junichi’s hair.

Junichi shifted, snuggling closer. “I believe it’s something that needs your skills,” he admitted, batting his eyes at him.

Risei nodded as though he’d been thinking it over. “Give me a minute to catch my breath and, if we’ve got enough time before your mom gets home, then you can sit on my chest and feed me your cock.”

“Um,” Junichi said. “How about if we skip you catching your breath?”

“That works too. Keep up the good work and I can see you moving up in this organization.”

The truth is,’ Senpai’ is just an ordinary high school student, like me. His blond hair and blue eyes, like his straightforward walk and brash way of talking, are precious things inherited from his American father. He lives with me and my mom because his parents were killed in a car accident the summer he turned fourteen. His mother’s family, who had disapproved of his mother’s marriage, were going to put him into a state home but my mother—who is his mother’s mother’s cousin—said he could live with us and we all moved to this town to make a fresh start.

My mother was fifteen when I was born and my father never married her. Because of me, she couldn’t go to university and now she works two jobs just to support the three of us. When the yakuza rumors started, Risei decided that it fit. We’d all been dealt a losing hand but, if we were smart, we could turn it around to our advantage. So ‘the yakuza’ became our job.

Next month, Risei is going to start at University and I’m going to go with him and finish my last year in Tokyo so that I can study Risei’s subjects along with him while my mother continues at her job here. We’re going to be businessmen, the two of us. By the time I get my degree, Risei will be old enough to take control of his inheritance. We’re going to move to America after that and open our own club ‘The Eight, Nine, Three’ and I’ll be in charge of the staff and Risei will be in charge of the business and my mother will be in charge of the books.

We’ll hold the winning hand then, instead of the worthless one. And that’s the truth.

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