Business as Usual Sidetrack Ten
Sidetrack
by 3_jane
“— I’m
not sure this is a good idea, Fuu. Mugen could be here any
moment.”
“No, you’ll like it, it’s
just — “ There was a soft grunt of effort from the
direction of the bathroom, as Mugen strained harder to hear. “
— it’s not wet enough, so I need to rub harder. Anyway,
doesn’t it feel good? You can’t tell me anyone does this
for you.”
“Hn,” came a familiar rumble, the
low voice curling down through his lower belly and pulling. “You
used to do this at school?”
There was a nervous giggle.
“Well, yeah. With one of the older girls: her name was Benio,
and she was really pretty, there was always this big group of the
other girls around her — could you bend forward a little? I
can’t work it in — oh, much better. But this one
weekend over exams, I was walking by her room on my way to the
showers when I saw her door was open. I wouldn’t have peeked,
but I knew it was her room. I didn’t know what she was doing,
at first.”
“She saw you?”
“Uh-huh.”
A soft splash. “Oh, sorry: I’ll clean up after we’re
done. I think you’re going to need a shower after I’m
finished with you, anyway.” Another giggle.
Eyebrows
raised, Mugen slipped off his shoes and padded noiselessly down the
hall to the bathroom.
“I guess she saw me in the
hallway, so . . . she was really nice about it. She said she was
surprised no one ever showed me how to do this,” the second
voice continued. “We ended up staying up all night before she
was happy with how I was doing it — which worked out great
because she had to do me twice.”
There was a pause,
then: “ . . . I see.”
“And how do you
manage to say that like this is the most perverted story you’ve
ever heard?” She sounded amused. “It was a girls’
school, Jin, for crying — are you trying to tell me nothing
like that ever happened at the dojo? All those teenage boys . . . I
bet Pukey probably tried it and never told you.”
“I
— “ The low voice broke off, as Mugen coughed loudly and
came to a stop in the open doorway, bracing himself to see some sort
of het Cirque du Soleil. He couldn’t really blame either of
them, he decided; it was clear there was a scary level of comfort
between them and he knew they’d known each other probably since
Jin had received his first Fisher-Price katana — he took a deep
breath and looked in.
Wait. What the —
He
stood stock still, head working to process what was going on in front
of him.
Only Jin could manage to look dignified as he
sat on a toilet, Mugen decided, fighting down the urge to laugh; the
other man sat backwards on the lid, resting his elbows atop the tank,
with a towel draped over his bare torso to catch the tea-colored
liquid streaming out of his hair as he turned his head toward the
door. The towel hadn’t been a complete success, however,
judging by the wet streaks over his back that trailed down and
disappeared into the edge of his jeans.
Her Peachness was
standing behind him, one hand in the inky locks at Jin’s crown,
the other dipped in a murky, vaguely organic-looking concoction that
looked as if she’d found it in a cesspool. “Mugen!”
She gave him a pleased yet embarrassed smile, roses blooming in her
cheeks; her wet hair was piled on top of her head and secured with a
pair of long pins.
“Whatcha doing?” He gave them
an agreeable leer, letting his eyes travel over them both; between
the long, smooth planes of Jin’s waist, the frayed denim riding
low over his hips, and the sight of Fuu barefoot in a tiny t-shirt
that read St. Lobelia’s, tucked into chinos that had
been scissored off mid-thigh, it was worth the trip.
Jin
sighed, as she blushed a deeper pink. “Fuu believes her hair
should be smoother,” he said dryly.
“Shinier,”
she corrected. “And I had extra, so I thought I’d do
Jin’s, too, now that it’s a little shorter. It doesn’t
really need it — which is so wrong, because you never do
anything to it and it’s still gorgeous. Do you know what women
would do to have hair like this?” She gave Jin’s hair an
affectionate tug.
“Turn my kitchen into a missile
testing site?”
“Shush.” She pulled his hair
a little harder, wrinkling her nose at him before turning her face
toward Mugen. “If you’d like, I could do your hair too,”
she said. “Not that your hair needs it, either, but it feels
nice after it’s done.”
He held up his hand. “Nope,
I’m good. Just had it done a couple days ago,” he said,
and she laughed.
Over her shoulder, Jin sent him a pleading,
rescue-me-and-unimaginable-delights-will-be-yours look;
actually, it could have been just a rescue-me look, but Mugen
figured it would be a safe bet to read in some sort of quid pro
quo.
Still, there had been that moment when he’d first
come in . . . and Jin would forgive him. Eventually.
“Right.”
He bit the inside of his cheek, keeping his expression neutral.
“Although maybe — nah, never mind,” he said. “Just
gonna go change.”
“Maybe what?” She frowned,
wiping her hand on her shorts.
“Hn.” He hooked a
finger in the jacket collar, leaning casually against the doorframe
as he pretended to scrutinize the other man. “It’s
probably nothing. We were outside most of the day for the picnic —
I bet that’s what it is.”
“What?” Her
attention was completely on him now; behind her, Jin’s eyebrows
were raised.
“You probably already saw it, but — “
Mugen leaned into the tiny bathroom as if to get a better look. “—
don’t you think his pores look bigger?”
She
gasped. “Oh my god, they do! Wait, I can fix that!” She
rummaged in a quilted Hello Kitty! bag that was resting next to the
tub, dumping pots and bottles onto the floor as Jin shot him an evil
look. Mugen gave him a cheerful grin and pushed himself off the
doorframe, heading into the bedroom where he draped the jacket over
the corner of the bed; he’d left some old sweats here a few
weeks ago, they’d be more comfortable than what he had on now.
He undid the top buttons of his dress shirt, pulling it over his
head.
“ — oh! The clay mask! That’ll be
perfect.”
Stretching his arms over his head,
Mugen snickered to himself.