Business as Usual, XVI
by Laura Bryannan

Yesterday it had been Beethoven's 9th but today Jin put on the 7th. The piece was melancholy and so was he.

Seeing Yuki back at work that morning had been a comfort, despite the lurid bruises still covering half his face and his careful gait. The crew fussed over him, spouting the usual demands for retaliation, which Jin forbade, as usual.

The call came in early, and Yuki's blush was Jin's clue as to who was on the line. Mugen was the medicine Yuki needed right now, so he was pleased.

Jin confirmed before he left the office for the evening. “Is Mugen taking care of you tonight?”

Yuki looked at him shyly, but with eyes shining. “Yes.”

“I'm glad,” he responded sincerely. “Goodnight then.”

It wasn't until Jin got home that he realized his call never came. In fact, it was the first time since he gave Mugen his phone number that he hadn't called by quitting time. He wasn't convinced it meant anything, but found it interesting nonetheless, especially considering his decision.

Jin finished the Bento he bought for dinner by the time the second movement began, so nothing distracted him from the minor tones pulling him out of his head and into his body. He welcomed it, having had trouble finding his way downward all day.

Mugen. Jin smiled as he contemplated his lover. So hungry. So tasty. Quite the distraction. He unbuttoned his jeans and closed his eyes, allowing the memories to arise. Heated, stinging mouth at his throat, his chest, his cock, his ass. Making him ache with need and beg to be impaled, even though the begging would only insure several more minutes of agonizing torture. Yes, Jin was fascinated by Mugen's mouth, the barbell such a lewd statement, there for one purpose only. And the way it felt in different sensitive places....

Jin's hand slipped inside his shorts, stroking, as favorite Mugen-getting-fucked expressions played across his inner vision. Sometimes he looked so innocent, sighing and cooing, crushing Jin in his arms and making it almost impossible to move. Other times the smartass would bray, inviting Jin to batter the smirk off his face and turn his snickers into screams.

Jin stroked harder, plunging into the undulating body. Always Mugen would grimace, whimpering, even while growling, “More, you fucker!” The caramel colored skin glistened with sweat, its own musk stronger than the scent of his cologne. It didn't matter how Jin positioned him, how widespread his thighs, how arched his back, Mugen accepted it, welcomed him, challenged him to do it harder, deeper. Annihilate Me was the standing order and, yes, it was exhilarating to fulfill it.

Jin came, his heart feeling full and yet bittersweet. Sighing, he knew it was time to let go. The towel that lived on the floor for just such occasions was put to use, he zipped his pants and sat up. Yes, Mugen was quite the distraction, but where were they headed? What purpose did the relationship serve? In his post-orgasmic calm, he could detach, put the sweet memories in a box and mark it “Do Not Open Until Insanity Strikes.”

Jin knew the dojo was his fate and he didn't begrudge it. He just wasn't going to live there under his uncle's thumb waiting for him to die. When it became necessary he would step in. Until then, he was determined to remain free. But his uncle was right about one thing: his family needed to continue and he was the only person who could continue it. His nature didn't lean in that direction, but it seemed a wife was in the cards for him one day.

Beyond Yuki, there had only been a handful of lovers, and none had sparked his interest, male or female. But one, the daughter of very old friends of his family, remained in his thoughts. He'd known her longer than Yuki, for she was born a year before his parents died, although he saw her only a few times a year at certain holidays when everyone gathered. She'd had a crush on him since she was a child, so perhaps that's why she put up with his tendency to wander in and out of her life, and never stay for long. They'd even played at lovers for a few months after he left Yuki, even though she'd still been jailbait at the time, only to disappear on her again.

Mugen and Yuki were better suited. His body would miss Mugen for a while, but that's what masturbation was for. It made him happy to know his beloved was with someone he wanted so much. And it was so nice to not be the focus of said beloved's attention any longer, that pleasure almost outweighed the pain of letting Mugen go...almost. But that's what life was about. It was about managing one's passions and doing the right thing, was it not?

He took a deep breath, trying to ignore the aching sadness creeping into his chest. And then, steeling himself, he picked up his cell and called Fuu.

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It ain't Jin. The words echoed through Mugen's mind as he made love with Yuki. Maybe it was because he was all worked up, ready to rumble, and it was no fun to slow down and be gentle. Maybe it was because Yuki's face was still distorted and the pain he was in made him kind of fussy and cringing. He didn't know why, but it wasn't happening for him tonight and that was that.

Mugen couldn't understand it. Yuki was good company, as usual. Despite his taped chest, bruises and cuts, he was still the second most beautiful person Mugen had ever been with. He contemplated his lover as he thrust, hugging the leg draped over his shoulder and pushing against the one locked around waist attempting to restrain his movement. Yuki still tried to top from the bottom and it was still fun to smack him down and teach him proper manners, so what was it? Mugen didn't know. All that kept running through his head was, it ain't Jin.

After they were done screwing around and dinner had been consumed, Yuki began nodding as he typically did, apparently even more of an early-to-bed-early-to-riser than Jin. Mugen tucked him in and begged off sleeping over. It was way too early to crash and he was way too restless to stick around. He hit the pavement and wandered aimlessly for a while, then got an idea.

Jin's apartment was only a few blocks away, so he decided to walk by. As the building came into view he could see flickering light through the big windows in Jin's living room and assumed he was working out, even though he usually practiced his kata in the morning. The desire was irresistible. Since Jin's apartment was on the top floor, Mugen climbed the back stairs of the building across the street, shimmied up a drainpipe and made it to the roof, giving him a perfect view into Jin's living room.

Yep, there he was, dressed in a simple gi and hakama, swinging a sword around like there was no tomorrow. The form was precise, well-practiced, the movement exquisitely fluid. Mugen was mesmerized...and impressed in spite of himself. He knew how heavy a katana was, and yet Jin wielded it as though it weighed no more than a stick. Mugen hadn't seen anyone move so fast outside of those fake kung fu movies and he didn't half believe what he was seeing now, so unearthly was the speed.

Jin worked out for forty-five minutes and Mugen sat there watching, debating, trying to ignore the longing in his heart. Beautiful and fierce, delicate and graceful yet so fucking powerful, Jin's dance seemed to epitomize everything Mugen felt about him. The lunges hit him in the gut, the parries and strikes made his heart soar. He argued with himself as Jin continued, wanting something but unsure what.

Did he want to call and ask if he could come over? And what if Jin said yes? It wasn't like he had a lot of juice left for sex and it wasn't like he was even horny, it was something else. How could he explain his call? Jin had accused him of stalker-like behavior once before, so there was no way he could cop to his activities tonight. "Hey, I'm on the roof of the building across from your apartment spying on you through your front windows." Yeah, that would go over real well.

Besides, what did he want? The closer he got to the actual feeling the more uncomfortable he became. He couldn't go there, it was too weird. He was almost twenty-one and had been living on his own since he was a kid, so there was no way he needed that from anyone! He tried to stomp out the embarrassing yearnings but they whispered like a siren's song.

Jin was wrapping things up, cooling off, and the matter was brought into sharp focus. Mugen needed to decide quickly. He pulled out his cell and flipped it open, every fiber in his being assuring him it would be good, it would be nice, it would feel...safe.

Fuck that! he decided, ignoring how his heart wrenched, stuck his cell in its holster and headed home.

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Her voice always made him smile in spite of himself. Fuu was so perky, it was infectious. “Jin! How wonderful to hear from you!” she enthused.

He'd been five the first time he met her, an uninteresting baby in her mother's arms. But next visit she could sit up on her own and he had enjoyed amusing her. She was on her feet by the time they met again, and it would be fair to say that's when she began to chase him. Her mother was happy to let him look after her and he didn't mind too much, considering she was pretty fun and did interesting things.

Fuu was often the only person worth consorting with when family and friends gathered, considering there were only a few other young ones like themselves, so they had come to lean on each other for entertainment as the grownups visited. Thus, when Uncle Mariya dragged him to the first family get together after his parents died, there she was. Talking now, even more demanding than before, openly upset he wouldn't play tea party but stubbornly unwilling to play samurai either.

She gave him no strange looks or sidelong glances the way everyone else did. She just wanted to play her way, the same way she'd always wanted to play. He liked that a lot. And so he'd watched her grow up, always charmed by her common sense, her pluckiness and her apparent understanding of him. Because their lives were so similar—she was an only child too—he always felt deep sympathy for her as well.

Her father had found religion and wandered off, never to be seen again, when Fuu was six. It was quite the scandal, some strange Christian cult they whispered, and Jin felt bad because Fuu had been close to her father. Uncle Kasumi had always seemed like a nice man, so Jin couldn't understand how he could leave his family like that. And then, when Fuu was eleven, the doctors discovered her mother had breast cancer. She battled the disease for many years, sometimes successfully, but finally succumbed when Fuu was fourteen.

Fuu had gotten stuck with an elderly relative who'd never had children of their own, just like he had. Auntie Mai was Fuu's mother's oldest sister, a spinster for good reason, many thought. She wasn't actually a wicked witch, but she was tiresomely old-fashioned and strict, just like Uncle Mariya. And so Jin had known how to console Fuu when she lost everything because it had happened to him. He had survived, and he wanted her to survive as well.

But life with Fuu meant managing Fuu. So when she began to tell him of her summer, happily answering her own questions and demanding little response from him as was her wont, he was prepared. Listening to her through a headpiece so his hands were free, he grabbed the pad of paper that lived next to the bed and began sketching to help quiet himself.

“We spent two whole weeks at the seaside, can you believe it? At first I got sunburned but then....”

He couldn't get Mugen's face out of his mind, so he began to draw what he was seeing. Just his head, wearing the calm but wary expression of Mugen in repose. But before he completed that, another image occurred to him...head thrown back, eyes closed, teeth clenched...Mugen's damn-that's-a-bitch-but-you-better-not-stop face. Jin noticed other urges begin to stir besides the creative ones.

“Did you get the postcard I sent? We were at the cultural festival the whole day and it was so exciting, we....”

Mugen in mid-orgasm. It was proving a challenge. Jin couldn't quite capture the expression, even though he tried several times, filling the paper with his attempts. This one looked too enraptured, that one too insane. His eyes were evil here, too much puppydog there. And the scenes Jin recalled as he tried to picture that aspect of Mugen were making his jeans uncomfortable.

“And then my friend Sata came to visit for a week, do you remember her? She's the one I roomed with last summer, I'm sure you met her. Anyway, we went to....”

A dangerous idea came to mind. How would Mugen appear looking at him with a certain something in his eye? Not lust, Jin knew that expression well. Not appreciation, he knew that one too. Something more revealing and intimate. Jin wondered if Mugen had ever looked at anyone that way, considering he wasn't sure if he had either. But there was something deliciously wicked about trying to draw it—Mugen looking as though he really liked him, as though he.... Jin couldn't think it, but he could draw it. Engrossed in his task, feeling embarrassed but quite thrilled with the results, he almost didn't catch the comment.

“So I'll be in Okinawa a few weeks from now. I can't wait to see you. Won't it be great to be living in the same city again?”

Jin dropped the pencil, hoping his gasp wasn't audible. “What did you say?”

“Didn't Uncle Mariya tell you?” Fuu replied. “I thought that's why you were calling. You know that Young Scholars thing I was doing on campus last summer? Well, that got me accepted into their special High School Merit Students program, so I'll be taking my senior year at Okinawa University, even though I'm only sixteen. It's a big deal, let me tell you. I worked really hard, but I still couldn't believe it when they let me in.”

Jin's heart was pounding. For the past four years, the safety of the Pacific Ocean existed between Fuu and himself, as she remained in Tokyo when he went away to Okinawa University. Although he'd spent much of last summer escorting her around the city while she attended the Young Scholars program here, he hadn't suffered any repercussions when he took her virginity—as she requested—for she'd gone home in August and made no further demands on his attention except a phone call now and then.

What would it mean to have her in town? He wasn't sure whether he was excited, unhappy, or just plain stunned, but he did have the wherewithal to say, “Congratulations, Fuu. That's great!”

He begged off the phone, promising to help her get settled when she arrived on campus, and began to pace. Why was he so worked up? He couldn't understand it. After a few minutes stalking his apartment, he put on his training clothes and went out to the front room.

It had always worked before. The repetitive movement always quieted his mind and stilled his soul, but not tonight. He strove harder than usual, moving faster and expending more energy, but nothing could keep the ideas from plaguing his mind.

Fuu...her honey-colored eyes, her sharp intellect and lithe but infinitely squeezable body.

Mugen...his café au lait charisma and passion, his arrogant vulnerability.

As Jin practiced his kata, trying to wear himself out, he had the strangest feeling. It was as though he were showing off to someone, but to whom? He couldn't say, but the notion remained and there was something thrilling about it.

By the time Jin completed every form he knew for the sword, twice, the familiar movements had finally helped him regain focus and restore a certain level of calm to his being. However, even though he had fully intended to put Mugen away, for some inexplicable reason he felt a compelling need to jack off in the shower and call him tomorrow.

to be continued