As They Are
folder
+A through F › Enzai
Rating:
Adult ++
Chapters:
1
Views:
2,737
Reviews:
1
Recommended:
0
Currently Reading:
0
Category:
+A through F › Enzai
Rating:
Adult ++
Chapters:
1
Views:
2,737
Reviews:
1
Recommended:
0
Currently Reading:
0
Disclaimer:
I do not own Enzai, nor any of the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.
As They Are
Author's Note: Written as a request for one of the kind members of the Enzai BBS, who wanted to see Jose x Guard B. ^_^
Disclaimer: Don't own the characters and am not making any money off the story.
=====
As They Are
=====
He should’ve listened.
They’d warned him, after all- just the day before, when he’d been hired. “Things are done a certain way, here,” the warden had informed him. “It might be best to leave them as they are.”
There had been a threat under the words, barely concealed, and a warning as well. He hadn’t understood at the time what he was being warned of or why threatened; now he did.
The knowledge had come a little too late.
He should’ve guessed by the reactions of the other prisoners in the dining hall that it was a common occurrence. No one looked twice as the silver-haired man called Jose forced the boy to strip, nor did a single person stand to oppose him. If anyone had felt sympathy, it was carefully shelved, cautiously hidden, a weakness that could only lead to later retribution.
He’d felt the need to intervene. Had ordered the instigator back to his cell, not liking the insinuating smirk that had flashed across the man’s face just before he’d rounded the corridor and into the hall. But the resigned expression in the blue eyes of the boy his interference had rescued was more unsettling than the rest of the experience combined.
And now, arms bound firmly behind his back, nude body trussed up and fully exposed for the man to see, the warden’s words returned to haunt him. Best to leave them as they are, indeed.
Pressing his lips tight in a disapproving frown, ignoring the pain that it caused in his split lip, the guard considered his captor evenly.
“When I inform Sir Guildias of this altercation…” he began, only to have the sentence severed before he’d gotten a chance to complete it.
“Guildias?” the man scoffed, pulling on the jacket that he’d recently forced the guard to remove. “I’d be more afraid of what he’s going to do to you.” Judging by the continued presence of the smirk that seemed a permanent part of Jose’s expression, it was a statement that he considered, if not true, than at least a genuine possibility.
With evident delight, the man settled his new hat carefully onto silver hair, pulling it down tight. “I knew it,” he leered, fingers beginning to do up the buttons. “The outfit is the only thing keeping you guys cocky.” Bending, he retrieved the baton that had been dropped in the midst of their brief scuffle, smacking it against his palm with enough force to draw a satisfying and intimidating sound from the contact.
“Now… bend over.” Taking hold of his shoulders, Jose turned the other man forcefully around, pushing him so low over the table that his chest brushed against the rough wood. “There’s been a problem with discipline here for some time… but this is the last straw.” He heard the rustle of fabric as clever fingers undid the buttons of the guard uniform, felt the insistent hardness press up against him, hot and heavy.
“A prisoner assaulting a guard… unforgivable.” Behind him, there was more motion, but the hand now pressed in the center of his back kept him from determining the cause. “You’re going to have to be punished.”
Slowly, steadily, the man entered him, the burn of penetration eased by a peculiar slickness- and, though not certain he wanted to know what Jose had used, the guard had the presence of mind to be vaguely grateful all the same.
And then the silver-haired man behind him began to thrust, and the world narrowed to the slow, steady strokes and the hands grasping his hips, to the shame burning in his cheeks and the ache burning between his legs, erection trapped amidst the too-tight rope that bound him. It wasn’t until the sensation drew from him the first strangled moan that he realized what, precisely, the punishment was meant to be.
And when at last Jose tensed behind him, coming with a guttural sound and one final thrust before withdrawing, he knew that he’d been right.
He was still painfully hard as the man used the final length of rope to bind him to the table, still fighting against the sensation of the firm press of wood against his arousal. While Jose undressed himself, he struggled to keep from rocking his hips against the surface to gain some much-needed friction, preoccupied even as the man told him flippantly that he ought to behave himself in the future.
When the uniform created an untidy heap on the floor, the guard failed to notice.
It was three hours before they found him.
~owari~
Disclaimer: Don't own the characters and am not making any money off the story.
=====
As They Are
=====
He should’ve listened.
They’d warned him, after all- just the day before, when he’d been hired. “Things are done a certain way, here,” the warden had informed him. “It might be best to leave them as they are.”
There had been a threat under the words, barely concealed, and a warning as well. He hadn’t understood at the time what he was being warned of or why threatened; now he did.
The knowledge had come a little too late.
He should’ve guessed by the reactions of the other prisoners in the dining hall that it was a common occurrence. No one looked twice as the silver-haired man called Jose forced the boy to strip, nor did a single person stand to oppose him. If anyone had felt sympathy, it was carefully shelved, cautiously hidden, a weakness that could only lead to later retribution.
He’d felt the need to intervene. Had ordered the instigator back to his cell, not liking the insinuating smirk that had flashed across the man’s face just before he’d rounded the corridor and into the hall. But the resigned expression in the blue eyes of the boy his interference had rescued was more unsettling than the rest of the experience combined.
And now, arms bound firmly behind his back, nude body trussed up and fully exposed for the man to see, the warden’s words returned to haunt him. Best to leave them as they are, indeed.
Pressing his lips tight in a disapproving frown, ignoring the pain that it caused in his split lip, the guard considered his captor evenly.
“When I inform Sir Guildias of this altercation…” he began, only to have the sentence severed before he’d gotten a chance to complete it.
“Guildias?” the man scoffed, pulling on the jacket that he’d recently forced the guard to remove. “I’d be more afraid of what he’s going to do to you.” Judging by the continued presence of the smirk that seemed a permanent part of Jose’s expression, it was a statement that he considered, if not true, than at least a genuine possibility.
With evident delight, the man settled his new hat carefully onto silver hair, pulling it down tight. “I knew it,” he leered, fingers beginning to do up the buttons. “The outfit is the only thing keeping you guys cocky.” Bending, he retrieved the baton that had been dropped in the midst of their brief scuffle, smacking it against his palm with enough force to draw a satisfying and intimidating sound from the contact.
“Now… bend over.” Taking hold of his shoulders, Jose turned the other man forcefully around, pushing him so low over the table that his chest brushed against the rough wood. “There’s been a problem with discipline here for some time… but this is the last straw.” He heard the rustle of fabric as clever fingers undid the buttons of the guard uniform, felt the insistent hardness press up against him, hot and heavy.
“A prisoner assaulting a guard… unforgivable.” Behind him, there was more motion, but the hand now pressed in the center of his back kept him from determining the cause. “You’re going to have to be punished.”
Slowly, steadily, the man entered him, the burn of penetration eased by a peculiar slickness- and, though not certain he wanted to know what Jose had used, the guard had the presence of mind to be vaguely grateful all the same.
And then the silver-haired man behind him began to thrust, and the world narrowed to the slow, steady strokes and the hands grasping his hips, to the shame burning in his cheeks and the ache burning between his legs, erection trapped amidst the too-tight rope that bound him. It wasn’t until the sensation drew from him the first strangled moan that he realized what, precisely, the punishment was meant to be.
And when at last Jose tensed behind him, coming with a guttural sound and one final thrust before withdrawing, he knew that he’d been right.
He was still painfully hard as the man used the final length of rope to bind him to the table, still fighting against the sensation of the firm press of wood against his arousal. While Jose undressed himself, he struggled to keep from rocking his hips against the surface to gain some much-needed friction, preoccupied even as the man told him flippantly that he ought to behave himself in the future.
When the uniform created an untidy heap on the floor, the guard failed to notice.
It was three hours before they found him.
~owari~