This story takes place after all my others, especially Vegetable Soup. Please read that story first if you are a new reader. Thanks!
My dear lover, how he confounds me. I find his insecurities mystifying, but I suppose that’s what makes life with him so interesting. I’m not bored yet, and that is saying something. Usually by this time in my relationships things have fallen into a pattern that is so predictable I can’t be bothered anymore. I know what my lover will do, I know what he will say, I know what he wants and how he will respond if I give it to him. So tiresome. Mugen is most certainly not tiresome. He is so unpredictable I am constantly fascinated. Bewildered at times, yes, but always fascinated.
Until I faced his struggle with it, I would never have imagined how much work it would take to get him to fuck me. I experience his strength every day. I experience his inherent seme nature in the way he behaves and in the way he lives his life, so it seemed natural to expect he’d be happy to do that with me. Who would have thought it would be such a hard thing for him to deal with? I am still trying to understand it.
He believes himself uke, but I know he is not, at least not in the way I have experienced uke men in the past. I cannot stand such types, frankly, and never got involved with anyone who acted that way. He told me he was trained to desire penetration. I can believe he was beaten into that kind of submission, but I cannot believe it is his basic nature. I don’t personally equate penetration with uke-ness, anyway, but clearly he does.
To me, a uke is someone who is weak-willed. They want to be subdued—to have no responsibility for their actions or responses. They revel in their incompetence, and use it to get the attention they crave. Sickening. They want to be overtaken, in every sense of the word. I may be a snob, but I have absolutely no desire to lord my will over a man who has no will of his own. Mugen is not this way at all, and yet it is clear that his conflict with this issue is very real, and it breaks my heart to see him struggle so.
I realize now that I was mistakenly attributing much of my own feelings about my years in the uke position at the dojo onto Mugen. When Master Enshirou first turned to me, I was young enough to feel flattered. I wanted to please him and tried my best to enjoy what he wanted me to do. And, of course, the status it conferred to me was heady as well. But as the years went by it became a horrible chore, and I felt more and more debased by it.
Day after day I was on my knees to him, letting him thrust into my mouth while I tried not to gag, praying he would cum sooner rather than later. It was rarely sooner. And, even worse, his release never seemed to matter to him. It never seemed to satisfy him. He would thank me and go on his way and then want it again later, as though he'd never had an orgasm earlier that day. I began to think of him as some ravenous demon—his energy like a whirlpool that sucked everything into it and never let anything out. It was as though there was a hole in his heart, and everything I gave him went in there and never registered anywhere else.
As I got older, I managed the experience by imagining the tables turned. At first I was horrified at myself, thinking such things about Master, but I can see now it kept me sane. I imagined my cock making him choke. I imagined myself watching him suffer in the way he watched me suffer, and being just as impassive to his distress as he was to mine.
I can see now that I sometimes treated my lovers the way I wanted to treat him, but could not, and how wrong that was. I often wonder if that is why the fates eventually set up The Disaster the way it was set up. He got to spend years ignoring my true nature, forcing me to do things I obviously did not enjoy doing, and I got to kill him. Life is a mysterious thing.
Mugen’s struggle clearly shows he’s not harboring secret revenge fantasies against me. I suppose I should be grateful. But the struggle itself was such a surprise in the first place. He seems so naturally seme to me, I honestly thought he’d jump at the chance to take over when I asked him to, so his resistance to the idea was totally confusing. I now know his uke training went deeper than I realized, but I believe we’ve moved past most of that. We put each other through a lot to finally get where we are now, but it has been worth it. There was one last confrontation before he gave way for good, which showed me an aspect of his personality I had not been aware of and brought up new issues for me to meditate on. But I believe I can handle this as well, so I remain hopeful.
It happened the day after he first fucked me. I thought we were in agreement we would do it again. Yes, he had seemed a little strange about the idea when I proposed it, but he had finally agreed so I thought nothing more about it. The next evening Fuu left to have dinner with a coworker. She walked out the door and I turned to him.
“Come on, let’s go,” I said eagerly.
“No,” he responded.
I wasn’t accepting that. “But you agreed.” I walked over to where he was standing and started to untie his pants. He caught my hand, forced me to stop and turned his back to me. I grabbed him by the waist, but he violently wrenched himself away and moved to the other side of the room.
“No!” he insisted. “You’re just fucking with my head.”
“Mugen,” I said in exasperation, “that’s not true. I want it. Come on, we don’t have a lot of time. Lay down so we can do it again.”
He looked at me with the strangest expression, like a beast backed into a corner ready to bare its fangs. “Make me,” he challenged.
Oh brother, I sighed, losing patience with whatever his problem was. “You’re not going to be of much use if I knock you out.”
“As if,” he snorted. His hands were on his hips and he was in full cock-of-the-walk mode. What was going on?
I suddenly had a realization and I knew it to be true the moment it occurred to me. The fates had brought me another one like Yuki. Yuki, who had been hurt so much as a child he didn’t understand kindness. He didn’t respect me when I showed him too much care or consideration. I don’t think of myself as a cruel man, and I did try to move him onto a better path, but there was no getting around that basic reality. Yuki needed to be hurt sometimes, and I became more and more creative in the ways I accommodated that need as the months of our relationship ticked by.
As I thought about these things I remembered the conversation Mugen and I had after he made me so angry when he took my hair down. He had basically admitted he didn’t know what to do with himself if things got too good, too peaceful. He had admitted he was trying to make me angry—that he was trying to goad me into violence of some kind, and had felt frustrated when I withdrew instead.
I hadn’t given that conversation a second thought until now, but it all made sense to me. I felt disheartened. I didn’t want another relationship like Yuki and I had. I didn’t want to let my relationship with Mugen fall into a pattern like that. It brought back too many horrible memories, and I certainly didn’t want a similar outcome. What to do?
“What are your terms for this battle, Mugen?” I asked him, stalling.
“You take me down. You make me cry Uncle, and I’ll do what you want,” he replied. “Otherwise, go fuck yourself.”
So I’m right, I realized sadly. He just said ‘hurt me until I give up, or you lose.’
I figured his breakdown the day before made him feel too vulnerable and he was now testing me. I was sure it didn’t help that I told him I loved him either. I thought about it and decided that I would hurt him because, in the end, I wanted what I wanted. I wanted to get laid and I didn’t want to lose his respect. If I had to hurt him to get there, I would do it.
I surveyed the room. It was small, which gave me a sleight advantage. Mugen needs a fair amount of space to really do his thing, and there wasn’t much of it in there. However, we could do a lot of damage if we fought, and I didn’t want to have to pay the landlord for repairs. I didn’t want to fight him and I didn’t want to hurt him in any kind of ritualized way either, never wanting to set those kinds of patterns into our relationship if I could help it. I decided the best way to get what I wanted was to cheat.
I spent two happy years at the feet of a Master Healer who was visiting the dojo from the continent. I studied the ancient system of the body’s energy meridians with him, and found the subject engrossing. Master Zhang had been a strong and loving presence in my life, and seemed pleased to have a student who was as obsessive about the subject as he was. His teaching would be helpful now, I realized.
There is a point on the hand, in the webbing between the thumb and forefinger called Hoku, The Joining of the Valleys, on the meridian of the large intestine. When that point is pressed into the bone it is very painful indeed. Yes, it would be cheating, but I am a selfish man.
“Give me your right hand,” I said to Mugen, holding out my own. He hesitated for a moment but then complied. I held it, wrapped my finger and thumb around his wrist, positioned my longest finger in the right place, then pressed…hard. He started screaming. He tried to wrench his hand away, but I would not allow it. I picked an arbitrary number—ten—and slowly began to count in my head. He was down on his knees at the count of three, and yelling, “UNCLE! UNCLE!” at the count of six, but I didn’t stop until I had counted to ten. Then I eased up on the pressure, but did not let go of his hand.
“You will lay down and let me ride you,” I ordered.
“Yes!” he replied breathlessly, still whimpering.
“Yes, what?” I asked.
“Yes sir, yes Jin, yes please.” He scrambled to find the right words. Someone had trained him well.
“‘Yes, Jin’ will do.” I let my voice soften somewhat, then let go of his hand and pointed to the futon. “Now strip and lay down before we run out of time.”
He complied, looking at his hand in amazement. He was sitting there naked, still staring at his hand, when I got my clothes off and found the oil, so I gave his breastbone a push and lay him back on the futon. He was hard, thankfully, but otherwise inanimate. It was disconcerting.
I oiled him up and straddled his hips. He wouldn’t look at me, but kept his face turned to the wall. I really wanted to kiss him but figured that would only make him act stranger than he was already, so I didn’t. Settling myself on him as I did the day before, I tried not to feel hurt by the contrast between his joyful participation then and his withdrawal today. I just focused on the task at hand, hoping he might come around eventually. Putting him in place, I went inward the way I do and got to work, hoping it might go easier this time. It was actually harder, however, as I hadn’t anything to open me up first and, well…I was still sore from before. I got there though, and then it felt as good as I remembered.
I raised myself up on my hands and took a look at him. His eyes were closed, his face turned away, his breathing ragged and his aspect deflated. He was not participating. It wasn’t what I preferred but, at that point, I was feeling too good to stop what I was doing. Is it possible to rape a man who has his cock up your ass? It was doubtful, even though that’s what it felt like to a certain extent. I hoped an orgasm would knock him out of that space and not make it worse.
The day before, we were both so horny by the time I got him inside me, we couldn’t do much more than cum. Today there was no such urgency. I could take my time. I closed my eyes and focused on how it felt to move him around inside me. Lovely. I’m essentially the same size all the way down, but he’s mushroom-like, so I get very nice friction both coming and going. I can always feel right where he is. Yes, yes, very lovely indeed. I pulled him out as far as I could and then pushed him into that place again and again—god it felt wonderful.
I don’t really remember any details after that. It felt as though my body was moving of it’s own accord, and I was aware of nothing but the immense pleasure of it. I slowly danced on him, luxuriating in every sensation— my focus completely inside myself. I was so absorbed in my own experience and so oblivious to anything else around me, that when I felt hands on my hips I nearly jumped out of my skin! I blinked a few times, trying to remember where I was and what I was doing, and saw him looking at me with eyes full of wonder. My heart leapt. It appeared he was back.
“You’re really liking this,” he whispered, sounding incredulous.
“Well, I was…. Now what do you want? Why did you disturb me?”
“I’m gonna cum soon.”
Ah yes. I blinked again and finally noticed the dilated eyes and the panting, writhing, sweaty body underneath me. He looked magnificent! I had to bite my cheek to keep from smiling.
“Then shut up and fuck me,” I demanded.
“Yes Jin,” he replied, almost reverently, and oh my god he did! He had his hands pretty firmly on my hips, but I still had to hold onto the edge of the futon with a death grip to brace myself against his thrusts. He sounded like some strange animal, growling in a way I’d never heard before. I dimly realized that if we didn’t stop soon I was going to cum myself, and I didn’t want to yet. I had plans. In between my own involuntary responses to his pounding, I leaned down close to his ear.
“And then I’ll fuck your throat after you cum.” Oh what a moan that produced! Quite gratifying. His whole body convulsed and then I could feel his cock pulsing as he released inside me. When he quieted, I relaxed and collapsed on his chest. He put his arms around me and I felt very happy about that. It meant he was still there with me. He didn’t let go. Long after my body had pushed him out he was still hanging onto me. I waited a little while longer and then decided it was time for the next step. Besides, who knew when Fuu would return?
“Mugen, let me go now,” I said quietly. His arms loosened and I sat up on his hips. For the most part he was looking like himself again, I was glad to see. One last demand and perhaps he would be completely back to himself.
I stood up—not too gracefully due to stiff knees and one foot that had fallen asleep—then stretched, walked over to the wall and leaned against it. The times he has throated me in the past, I’ve been sitting down and unable to move much. This evening I wanted to really be able to fuck him, so I wanted to be standing. Besides, I couldn’t pass up the symbolism of it. “Come over here and give me your throat,” I ordered.
“Yes, Jin,” he replied, no longer deflated, but with a hungry gleam in his eyes. He crawled over on all fours and knelt up in front of me. “Can I start now, Jin?” he asked, quite proper in his protocol. I reminded myself to ask who taught him such things…later.
“You may begin,” I replied, and he did. He took me in his mouth and slid me in and out a few times and then hesitated. I realized he was waiting for me to command him, so I carded my hands into his hair and pulled him toward me. “Swallow me, Mugen,” I said, while I pushed myself against the back of his throat. He struggled for a second and then did it. Oh my. It felt so glorious I practically melted right there. I’d been hard for so long at that point I wasn’t going to be able to handle it, it was too overpowering.
I find the idea of fucking Mugen’s throat very erotic, and the experience itself is always better than my fantasies—almost painful in its intensity. He held onto my ass as I thrust into him, not really caring at the end how he was doing. I practically fell over when I came, and he held me in place, bracing me against the wall as I convulsed over his shoulder. God it was good!
When it was over I sank to my knees. My hands were still in his hair, so I pulled him close and kissed him, despite his sniffly nose and wet face. I think we made up for all the kissing we didn’t do that evening right then and there. It was such a relief to have him back again, I didn’t want to stop, but the matter of Fuu remained. I had no idea how much time had gone by, and I really didn’t want her to walk in on us like this.
“Let’s get dressed before she gets back. It could be any time now,” I said. He yawned and agreed with me. I just put on my juban and hakama. Until I met Mugen I would never have considered going about without something underneath, but I’ve found it’s nice not to have everything tied up all the time.
I lay back down on the futon and he snuggled up next to me with his head on my shoulder. We both fell asleep soon after that and I didn’t even rouse when Fuu returned. When I woke up some time in the middle of the night, the fire in the hearth had died and I could hear two bodies snoring nearby. I smiled to myself and then I was out until morning.
So, Mugen and I have fallen into a nice pattern at this point. I told him I wanted a week to get my body used to this new experience, and then we could take turns after that. Since he got past that initial block in his mind, he’s been essentially fine about fucking me. In fact, he’s been like a child in a sweet shop about it, and it’s been quite amusing. He’s taken me in every position a man can take a man, and in some I never conceived of before. Mugen is quite creative in that respect.
I go about my day with a constant reminder of what we have been doing—a pleasant ache in my foundation that will arise when I move in certain ways or sit down just so. I find the experience quite delicious. When you enter another body, after you climax your experience is essentially over. When you share your body with someone else, you have sensations inside that continue long after lovemaking is through. I never realized such a thing was so, but I find myself enjoying it, strange as it sounds.
It makes me wonder if Mugen has similar experiences after I fuck him. I suppose he’s too used to it for it to affect him the way it affects me. And there’s no way I can…um…fill him up the way he does me. He told me once that getting fucked by someone hung like himself would be something he’d endure, not enjoy. I don’t know if I believe that is true. I want what he’s got because it’s his, but I don’t feel as though I am enduring anything. He’s still working that out in his head, however. The other day he asked me,
“Don’t you get jealous that I get your cock and you’re stuck with mine?”
“No,” I answered honestly. “I’d feel shortchanged if I didn’t get yours. I believe I got the better deal.”
A sensei I respected at the dojo once said that inside every dedicated seme is a uke who never met the right seme. I wonder about myself sometimes. I know I’ll never let go of my position in our relationship, but I’ll admit it’s nice to lay back and have someone pound me into oblivion every once and a while. And now that I’ve experienced how wonderful it feels to have him inside me, I imagine I’ll always desire such sensations.
It’s good that we can be flexible about who plays seme. It keeps things from getting dull, not that I honestly believe life could be dull with Mugen around. I feel blessed that the fates brought me my mixed-up lover—a most glorious combination of strength and tenderness, with the grace of a panther and the charm of a wolf. His lack of charm makes him all the more charming, in my eyes. Mugen is the first lover I have had who I completely respect, and perhaps that is why he is the first lover I could consider playing uke to.
I don’t know what will happen to us after we reach Nagasaki, but I know I will be forever grateful I was able to share my life with this man, if only for a time. My heart is functioning and I’ve experienced genuine happiness because of our relationship, and I don’t know what more anyone could ask of a lover than that.