by Rei (レイ)
illustrated by ah_chan
After the graduation ceremony on Thursday, Sato’s parents decided a family vacation was in order. Instead of moving into Endo’s house for a week like he planned to, Sato was told to pack a week’s worth of clothes and prepare for a six-hour drive to Nikkō. He didn’t tell Endo, but his mother did -– she sent an invitation on black refried paper with creeping white characters.
That Saturday, Endo turned up on Sato’s front doorstep in his favourite pair of torn jeans, carrying a ratty bag with the words “FATE GO FUCK OFF WORLD” splashed across it in dark messy letters.
Sato had nothing against Nikkō.
He had nothing against traveling, for that matter. He did, however, have a problem with being made to travel six hours by car with a sleeping snake on his lap. Mookie was heavy and prone to biting whenever he was woken up, so half the trip was spent trying not to antagonize the snake on his lap while he batted away Endo’s hands whenever they strayed too far down south. Sato’s sister, on the other hand, contented herself by feeding Endo sticky black rice and referring to her large leather-bound book while she giggled to herself.
Sato had a feeling it was going to be a long week.
His mother had a friend who lived in a temple near a mountain in Nikkō. Takase-san wore kimonos that changed colour depending on the seasons and kept her hair long and straight.
They arrived on Saturday night, at 11.58pm, with Sato unable to feel his legs anymore and Endo very full. It’s a nice place, laughs Endo, as though he hadn’t just sat through a six-hour car journey, while Sato grunted something incoherent in return as he shoved Mookie off onto his sister and stumbled out of the car, his legs feeling like konnyaku jelly.
As Sato tried to get feeling back into his leg, an offending arm suddenly swung into view.
What, he snapped at the arm in front of his face, I can’t feel my legs anymore okay.
So I’ll support you, dumbass, now take my arm. Endo smirked and Sato couldn’t help but want to punch him in the face. Instead, he peevishly took Endo’s arm and leaned on him heavily.
Young love, whispered his parents, and Sato’s ears burned.
They had their own room.
A distance away from where Sato’s parents and his sister were staying, at the other end of the temple to be exact. Takase-san apologized for the distance and Endo turned his charming smile on her, assuring her that no, really, we should be the ones apologizing since we’re the ones imposing.
Endo always had a way with words.
Sato didn’t quite register the fact that they only had one futon until Takase-san left and Endo found a pair of yukatas neatly folded up on the low table facing the temple grounds. Endo’s shirt was the first to land on the floor, then his bag followed. Then Sato’s shirt.
Endo sauntered around the room half-naked before coming up behind Sato and pushing him up against a wall, all lazy smirks and half-lidded eyes.
Takase-san will hear, Sato hissed, not sure if he should kick Endo in the crotch or arch up against Endo’s creeping hands.
So let her, Endo laughed, low and dark, against Sato’s neck, before sliding his hands down Sato’s pants.
The next morning, Sato woke up feeling slightly sticky and alone.
He managed to stumble into the kitchen, still feeling slightly groggy from lack of sleep (they were up till 3am before Endo would finally let the two of them sleep) and slightly irritated that he woke up alone (not that he would admit that).
Halfway through his rice, though, Sato’s mother announced gleefully that “as per tradition”, a ghost story night would be held on the temple grounds, in the room nearest to the graveyard. His father beamed widely and patted his wife’s lap. Takase-san let out a giggle. Sato’s sister clapped her hands and licked her lips. Endo nodded with interest and added the fact that he was pretty good at telling stories, naa Sato?
Sato was too tired to protest.
Sato spent the next twelve hours doing vacationy-templey things. Like sweeping the temple floors and threatening Endo with his broom whenever Endo tried to corner him. Or cutting fresh vegetables, plucked from Takase-san’s garden.
(Which was, incidentally, located next to the graveyard. Nutrients, she replied, with an odd glint in her eyes. Sato made a mental note not to touch any more of the vegetables for the whole trip.)
This wasn’t exactly the sort of vacation Sato had in mind. Sato’s ideal vacation involved him breaking in his PS3 (again), while Endo stayed next to him, all obscenely stretched out reading the latest SHOXX magazine and complaining about MUCC’s new album.
It definitely didn’t involved temples, or chores, or wearing an earth brown yukata which gave Endo easy access to his chest. Not that he didn’t like Endo touching his chest but his parents were around! His sister! Takase-san! He had his pride to maintain after all! (This itself was questionable, considering that he lets Endo **** him with his **** up his *** on a regular basis.)
Besides, this was a temple, the gods would be angry! He told this to Endo, who was putting his hands down his chest for the umpteenth time and Endo paused for a moment, before replying that well, if he were a god, he’d be turned on instead.
Sato stepped on Endo’s toes for good measure.
They were halfway through dinner (Sato made sure he took extra care to avoid the vegetables) when Takase-san announced that the room would be ready for the ghost telling at 9.45pm, so if everyone could get ready by then, they could start at exactly 10pm. Sato poked at his fish and tried not to wonder about his family’s “traditions”. His sister leaned over and curved her arm around him and smiled: I’ll protect you, Sa-chan, don’t worry <3.
Sato didn’t notice the small pill in his rice.
Sato felt hot.
He was also carrying a large carving knife about the size of his arm and a long coil of silken ropes, but he was sure that wasn’t why he felt hot. Endo was carrying a large pot of water and four long red candles, but Sato was sure that wasn’t why he was feeling hot either.
His parents were already in the room and had already set up the candle stands when they walked in.
The knife was part of the ritual that was needed for a traditional ghost story night, his father informed him, flexing the coil of rope absently in his hands.
And the rope? Sato wondered but knew better than to ask.
His sister walked in, holding Mookie and wearing a strange smile, and sat herself down, folding her legs in primly so that her skirt billowed out like a black silken balloon. Takase-san came in last, in a kimono that looked as if it had soaked in dark ink for a hundred years. At exactly 10.02pm, they started their stories and Sato’s mother cultivated the candles carefully.
Takase-san started off with a story about spirits and a lonely girl who lived in invisible cage.
Halfway through Sato’s sister’s hypnotic rendition of Alice in Wonderland (Sato didn’t remember the story having so many ghosts, or gore, or Alice actually dying for that matter), Sato felt as if the room was burning. Maybe there was a heater left on somewhere? Or maybe the temple wing had caught fire and they were now surrounded by fire which would explain why he was feeling so hot? But no, everyone else was acting fine, only his sister had that odd curve to her lips, but Sato put it down to her story.
Sato felt like taking his clothes off. It was sticking to his skin; it would melt into his skin. He would have olive green skin for the rest of life. He could spend the remaining years of his life as a kappa then. He put a hand to his forehead, maybe he had a fever. Yes, a fever. But his forehead wasn’t hot. Didn’t Takase-san say there was a lake nearby? A dip in the water sounded inviting. Maybe he could stay in the lake forever. He’ll become a kappa in that lake. Endo could come visit and bring cucumbers for him to eat every summer. Endo–
Endo was giving him a weird look. It was one of his, clearly-there’s-something-wrong-but-you’r
Endo caught Sato’s arm (thank god for long legs, Endo thought, and thank god Sato was a slow walker) and yanked him back, backing Sato up against a smooth stone lantern and placing a hand on his forehead.
Are you sick? Endo demanded and if Sato concentrated, he could hear the low murmurs coming from the room they just left.
No. Sato brushed Endo’s hand away and didn’t realize that he’d opened his mouth again. I’m going to be a kappa.
Endo gave Sato another look before arching an eyebrow and asking, a kappa?
Yes, a kappa, what’s wrong with being a kappa, are you being racist? Sato snapped at Endo before tripping over his feet and stumbling into Endo’s arms. Sato’s bare chest brushed against Endo’s yukata and he had the oddest urge to rub himself against Endo. Rub until Endo shoved him against the wall and put his tongue down his throat and–
What did you eat? Endo demanded, but made no move to push Sato away. This must be a good sign, Sato thought, better than becoming a kappa maybe.
I’m hot, Sato announced, his words slow and individually pronounced.
Endo sighed and pushed Sato against the wooden steps leading up to the room they just left. I don’t believe it — your sister actually drugged you, didn’t she.
I’m hot, Sato repeated, feeling slightly more together now that he was sitting and the cool October night was biting his skin.
Feeling better? Endo asked, and Sato didn’t miss the way his voice roughened slightly.
The darkness was melting over Endo’s face, but Sato could hear, could feel Endo’s heat in front of him and it was making him head throb and his body ache in a strange hollow way.
Sato looked at Endo and licked his lips.
The yukata gave way as easily as Sato had predicted, and it was prevented from falling onto the dirt floor in an unceremonious heap only because Sato still had his sash tied on tight. If Sato felt out of it just now, he wasn’t feeling out of it anymore. The heat was spreading through his body, and it didn’t help that Endo slid his hand over the sash then up over Sato’s chest and leant down and whispered, leave the sash on, before sticking his tongue into Sato’s ear.
Fucking pervert, Sato ground out against the wet warm feeling in his ear as he scrabbled for a better hold on the wood.
Behind them the bamboo forest rustled in the wind and in front of them, behind fragile shoji doors, they could hear Sato’s father spin a tale about a western hotel and a boarded-up room and ghostly knocks.
Sato gripped the hard wooden steps and arched back into Endo’s hands and they curved down his back and under his yukata and his front where he was uncomfortably hard. Sato bit back a groan and pushed into Endo’s hands, panting from the heat running in his veins and the cold air biting his skin.
Endo leaned in and bit lightly on Sato’s shoulder, his hand alternating between fast and slow, hard and soft. Sato gasped and writhed in Endo’s hands and panted out incoherence into the night air.
They’ll be able to hear, Endo whispered into Sato’s ear, and licked a hot wet trail up his face. Sato bit back a whimper and arched his neck.
Then Endo pulled Sato around, so his back rested uncomfortably against the jutting wooden steps, and kissed Sato roughly on the mouth, before wrapping his hand around Sato’s hardness again and kissing him again, swallowing the little broken sounds that Endo knew Sato made whenever Endo jerked him off.
Sato’s vision had just begun to white out when Endo released his hand and pulled him up and pressed him back against the steps. Sato made a little whimpering sound but Endo grabbed his right leg instead and slung it over his shoulder before leaning in and kissing Sato messily on the mouth.
After Endo moved apart, two long fingers slid into Sato’s mouth and he sucked on them while Endo watched with dark eyes, intoxication rolling off him like waves of lust, or maybe it was the other way round, Sato couldn’t quite think coherently anymore. Endo pulled out his fingers with a wet sound and kissed Sato on the jaw, gently, teeth just barely nicking the skin, before pushing one slick finger in.
Sato bit down so hard, he tasted blood.
Steps were pretty hard to have sex on, so Endo fucked Sato with his hands on the top step and his knees spread open on the fourth. It was uncomfortable, but unbelievably hot and Sato was getting harder and oh god Endo was making those low growling noises again, the type he made whenever he was turned on.
The heat in his body was going to burst, Sato thought as he watched his sweat drip onto the wood, soaking in deep, while Endo grabbed his hips and lifted him up properly before his hands resumed jerking Sato off, all palm and knuckles and pressure in all the right places and hot hot friction.
Sato’s hair was plastered to his forehead, cool little beads of sweat rolling off every time Endo thrust into him, and he could feel Endo’s sweat drip onto his back and roll off his hips.
Behind the frail shoji doors, Sato’s mother was talking about a nue she once met, years ago, but Endo was hitting all the appropriate spots and Sato’s mind blanked out before he was able to process what his mother’s words were.
All Sato knew was Endo’s hands, Endo’s heat, Endo’s hardness, Endo’s mouth, Endo, Endo, Endo.
When Sato finally came, he bit into his hand so he wouldn’t make a sound. Endo followed soon after, burying his teeth in Sato’s shoulder so hard Sato knew it’d leave a mark.
Somehow, they made it back to their room.
Sato knew this because he woke up on their futon, sticky and sore with numerous marks on his body. He was alone again, and it was probably time for breakfast, but Sato doubted he could move. Even if there had been an earthquake, he probably wouldn’t have been able to move. Dying under a temple that collapsed over him – no, dying in a temple that Endo had fucked him in – didn’t sound so bad suddenly. Sato considered his options before deciding to slide back in under the covers. It smelt like Endo’s cigarettes, which was odd because Endo never smoked in the room. But it smelt warm and familiar all the same.
Ten minutes later, Endo walked into the room, dressed only in a pair of black pants and carrying a tray of breakfast precariously. Sato pretended to be still asleep, but Endo kicked the wrapped form on the futon lightly, earning a muffled yelp from Sato who shot Endo a glare that could melt glass.
Food, since I doubt you could’ve walked, Endo said mildly, and set the food down on the floor next to their futon.
And whose fault is that? Sato grumbled as he maneuvered himself around the food, and fought the urge to wince.
Endo chewed on a celery stick thoughtfully before leaning in to nuzzle Sato’s neck. Y’know, I took the pills that your sister fed you, maybe next time I could feed it to you and you could be all freaky again~.
Sato felt his ears go up in smoke and jabbed his chopsticks into the rice, making sure he chewed viciously and swallowed (he was well aware how Endo stared at his throat when he swallowed) before stabbing the chopsticks into Endo’s face and snarling a quick pervert before returning to the rest of his food.
Endo smirked and resumed chewing on his celery.
Out of spite, Sato decided not to tell him where it came from.