Wicked Games
Next Time

       It had been snowing on and off for the past few days. Now the Koji residence was in the midst of one of the hardest winters of all time and the house was buried under three feet of ice and snow. The roads were in worser condition and everyone was stuck in the house until the whole thing blew over. The weatherman said it would be over in a few days . . . that was a week and a half ago. The freeloading Ronins and their unofficial landlord were going shack-wacky from being penned up and unable to leave the house. A good thing Mia always kept an emergency supply of canned foods and frozen entrees for situations like this or they’d all be eating the wallpaper before long.

       The predicament of all the Ronins being stuck together was beginning to have a very ill effect on their nerves. Ryo was being particularly bipolar, alternating between moping around the living room and getting the mad desire to go out and shovel snow. A good thing again Mia always had a broken something or other to distract him with. A blown light bulb in the attic would keep him occupied for hours.

       Sage kept his wits about him by spending hours in mellow meditation and listening to his psychiatric anger management sessions on cassette tape. Kento had defeated every video game in the house and was now undergoing knitting lessons by none other than Cye. The British lad had taken up the thread as a way of keeping his calm. However, when Kento saw Cye beginning to come apart at the seams he left the room, not willing to get his eyes gouged out with knitting needles by a raving madman. And Rowen . . . was in the worst shape a human could possibly be in.

       The problem was this: Rowen was very intelligent and it took a lot to keep him occupied. Nothing seemed to humor him at all. He had read all his books twice, listened to all his music, he had no one to play strategy games with since his vast intellect always lent him victory and no one was mentally capable of playing with him anyway, no place to go, he couldn’t go out and practice bow shooting, he was tired of exercising, tired of sleeping, tired of being tired of doing things . . . Rowen was on the brink of madness when he suddenly got an idea.

       The door to Sage’s room burst open and the blond looked up from his magazine to see Rowen slam the door shut and glare at him. Sage slowly removed the headphones and clicked off his Walkman, inquiring, “Yes?”

       “Let’s fuck,” Rowen said without hesitating.

       Lavender eyes went wide. “Wh-what?”

       “Let’s fuck until we can’t stand it anymore, then fuck some more. Whadda ya say?”

       “I say I think you’re bored.”

       “Damned right I’m bored!” Rowen roared, kicking the small metal trashcan near the door. “I’m so fuckin’ bored-” He pulled his azure hair in anxiety. “I’m about to go apeshit outta my mind!”

       “Rowen, calm down.”

       “I can’t! I’m psychologically unstable! I’m about ta murder somebody fer Chrissake!”

       “Rowen . . .” Sage stood up from his desk, walked over, took Rowen by the shoulders and sat him down on the edge of the bed. “I don’t know which is worse, your addiction to sex or your disturbing, psychotic behavior right now.”

       “Behavior, behavior,” Rowen babbled. “Fix one and you’ll fix ‘em both. Let’s go reverse alphabetical order. Sex first.” He reached up and grabbed Sage by the shirt, falling onto his back on the bed and bringing Sage with him. “C’mon,” he uttered darkly, pressing urgent kisses against Sage’s lips. “Let’s do it now. Let’s do it in every room of the house. Let’s-”

       “God, you’re so impatient,” the blond snapped. “You were like that the last time so just put the brakes on a sec, okay?” He sat up off Rowen and tossed his golden hair out of his eyes. “You’ve got to slow down and appreciate the things I give to you. That’s the key to enjoying life.”

       “I enjoy you. You are my life.”

       Sage lost his train of thought and stared into Rowen’s deep blue eyes. “I don’t know if that’s the scariest thing or the sweetest thing that anyone has ever said to me.”

       Rowen smiled.

       “But given the current state of your mind I’d say it was the scariest.”

       “You bast-”

       “Woah, woah! Take it easy! I was only kidding,” Sage chuckled at his lover’s defensive actions and cuffed Rowen’s chin affectionately. “My way or no way, and I say it’s foreplay, ‘kay?”

       Rowen grinned. “Clever rhymin’. How long did it take ya to come up with that?”

       Sage frowned and leaned over, muttering, “Seems my little harlot has a saber where his mouth should be.” He kissed Rowen rudely and forcefully, the way Rowen liked it. The other boy obediently went limp, like a submissive dog before its master. If it were anyone else, Rowen wouldn't be caught dead acting like this. But Sage had a very . . . profound effect on Rowen's actions; a catalyst for all those repressed sexual urges that he was too unwilling to admit he had. Now they all exploded with untamed and uncontrollable fire.

       “Touch me,” he begged when Sage pulled away. “Pleeeease, Seiji.”

       Sage clenched his teeth and tried hard not to give in to that syrupy sweet voice speaking his pet name and replied, “No.”

       Rowen was shocked, pushing Sage away slightly. “No? Whadda ya mean no?”

       “I’m not sure if I want you this way.”

       “Sage!” Rowen cried, motioning to himself. “Have you looked at me lately? I’m on your bed, hot, horny and aching for it like a bitch and ya tell me no?”

       This was — hands down — the most difficult thing Sage had ever done in his life. At least he hadn’t fought the Dynasty with a boner the size of Pisa Tower threatening to crack through his groin guard. And cotton slacks certainly wouldn’t be able to hold the beast back for long.

       “I didn’t mean I didn’t want you at all,” the blond muttered. “Someplace where no one goes.”

       “The attic?” Rowen suggested hesitantly.

       “Perfect. Let’s go.”

       “But it’s freezing up there!” he cried as Sage dragged him off the bed and out the door.

       “So what. We’ll keep ourselves warm.”

       They walked softly and quickly to the end of the hall, where Sage grabbed the knob on the last door and jimmied it fiercely. After a few seconds the rusty jamb gave and turned, opening the door with a squeal of hinges.

       “Shhhhh!” Rowen hissed.

       “You have an air leak or something?”

       Rowen grabbed Sage’s shoulder and pushed him through the door, stepped in, and closed it behind him. A case of stairs were directly before them in dim darkness, and Rowen pulled Sage forward by the collar and began kissing him ravenously.

       “Damn, back up!” Sage growled, breaking the clumsy lips from his own. “I thought I was a sex fiend. You’re borderline ho, Rowen.”

       The blue haired young man stared with a hurt expression and Sage rolled his eyes. “Don’t pull that crap now. Just save it till we get upstairs, okay?” He turned around and stepped delicately up the stairs, careful not to make them squeak; Rowen followed after him, soundly chided.

       When they reached the top of the stairs, everything in the large expanse of space was covered in a layer of dust and grime. Clutter lined the walls: boxes, chiffarobes, various pieces of furniture covered in white cloth . . . Rowen eyed a grandfather clock curiously while Sage inspected each piece of furniture like a bird looks for a place to make a love nest for its mate.

       “It’s cold in here,” Rowen said with a shiver, tucking his hands into the sleeves of his sweater and wrapping his arms around himself.

       “Should have worn the coat that belongs to me that you never gave back,” Sage replied curtly. “The one I got swindled out of after we fucked for the first time.”

       “Don’t be such a sore ass, jeez. I’ll give it back soon.”

       Sage was lifting the sheet off of a fairly large table and Rowen gasped. Sage dropped the cloth and turned around. “What?”

       “A Victorian,” Rowen said, motioning to the table. “You can tell by the legs.” He stepped to the table and lifted the sheet a little, exposing a well-rounded and elegant cherry leg. “The Victorian era of England was known for its repression of sexuality. The Victorians thought of sex as somethin’ strictly duty, awful and disgusting. Women were forced to wear confining, uncomfortable dresses and the men to wear devices ta prevent arousal. It held them back. That’s why bordellos and whore houses were so common, they were tryin’ ta let loose. You can see it here, too.” Rowen ran his fingers gently up the smooth cherry finish as Sage watched. “Carpenters fashioned the furniture to take on the appearance of ladies’ legs.”

       “Sexual depravity?” Sage inquired.

       Rowen nodded. “People were so uptight about anything remotely sexual that they made dust covers to cloak the legs of the tables.”

       “Because they thought the furniture was sexy?”

       “In a way, yeah.”

       “Good God. No wonder everyone was smoking opium back then. Next week on ‘Romancing the Coffee Table’: a woman comes home and finds her husband getting it on with the ottoman.”

       “Splinters.”

       “Gives the term ‘woody’ a whole new meaning, eh?”

       Rowen smiled. He got Sage talking, at least. The blond stepped toward him and placed a hand on Rowen’s hip. “You watch the Antiques Roadshow or something?”

       “Nah. I just knew that.”

       Sage grinned smugly. “Well, let’s do something un-Victorian to this stuck up thing-” He grabbed Rowen by the waist with both hands and lifted him just enough to slam him onto his back on the table.

       “Sage, be careful!” he cried. “This thing is an antique!”

       “If it was worth anything it wouldn’t be in the attic.”

       Rowen opened his mouth to protest, but stopped. “Well. I suppose you’re right.”

       Sage began to unbutton Rowen’s pants while he lay there, trying not to think about how cold it was up in the attic. He was already beginning to warm a little. He noticed Sage smirking to himself and asked, “What?”

       “You’re my buffet.”

       “Your what?”

       “My love buffet,” Sage repeated, shucking Rowen’s pants and boxers off and taking him by the knees, spreading his legs and pulling him until he was dangling halfway off the edge of the table. “So I can lay you out on the table and take what I want.”

       Despite the distraction of what was being done to him, Rowen cocked an eyebrow. “Sage, that was the most idiotic thing I’ve ever heard ya say.”

       “Put it on the calendar.” Sage lowered his head and breathed hot, moist breath onto Rowen’s partially erect cock and it stiffened in response. Rowen gritted his teeth and wondered if he would be able to stand this grand foreplay Sage always wanted to try on him. Sage’s tongue slithered out from between his lips and lightly grazed the burning shaft of flesh. Rowen arched up momentarily, pleading in feverish agony, “Oh, God, Sage. Just suck me already! Please!”

       The blond grinned, enjoying the power he held over his lover but opened his mouth and sheathed it over Rowen’s erection. Rowen sank back down onto the table with a heavy sigh of relief and closed his eyes. Sage’s hot mouth and tongue worked him well, teasing and lingering and playing over his cockhead and along the underside gently. Rowen moaned and raised his hips off the table, deeper into Sage’s mouth, and slipped his hands up under his sweatshirt to tweak his own nipples. His mind swam with the sensation and he gasped, tossing his head to the side and panting loudly.

       Sage relaxed his throat and took Rowen all the way in, burying his face into the velvety soft skin and wiry dark curls between his legs. Rowen let out a shriek when he felt himself hit the back of Sage’s throat and came fitfully into the blond's mouth. He arched his spine and moaned like the most jaded of whores as he felt his semen flood into Sage’s wet warmth, who swallowed most of it with no problem. Small rivulets ran from the corners of his mouth and Sage gathered the excess up with his fingers and licked Rowen’s softening cock clean.

       “Don’t get too comfortable, Ro,” he murmured, unbuttoning his shirt with one hand as his lover recovered. Rowen, trying to catch his breath, gasped when he felt Sage’s fingers, slick with the essence of his latest release, pry gently into his body, deeply into him. Deep enough to graze the sensitive prostate and cause those feelings of arousal to return again.

       “Nnnhh . . . Seiji.” Rowen spread his legs wider and raised his hips upward, enjoying the debilitating and pleasuring things Sage was making him feel.

       “Am I fucking you good so far?”

       “Yes . . . more . . .”

       Sage leaned over Rowen’s prone body and nuzzled his ear with his nose, grinning. “Let me sssspread you . . .” came the purring, almost song-like voice. “Touch you . . . and take you . . . fuck you . . . break you in twoooo . . .” A hot tongue flicked out and caressed Rowen’s earlobe, drawing it into a warm mouth where he felt sharp nibbles from Sage’s teeth. “Mm . . . let me spread you out . . . baby boy.”

       Rowen’s blue eyes fluttered faintly as Sage’s dark murmur fell upon his ears. He wrapped his arms about Sage’s shoulders and wriggled his hips anxiously. The blond’s fingers worked him agonizingly slowly, torturing him and making him moan hoarsely. Sage’s free hand snaked under Rowen’s shirt to pinch the hard, pebbly protrusions of his nipples, beginning a rhythm to the three fingers inside of Rowen. In and out, twisting and turning so that each thrust was different.

       Sage leaned down and pressed his lips to Rowen’s, tongue clashing past his lover’s lips and hungrily raping his mouth. Sage felt Rowen’s cock, already hard again, rubbing into his abdomen and he growled softly against his mouth. It was almost to where Sage was unable to hold off any longer, his massive erection striving to get out of his pants and into Rowen’s body as quickly as possible, when Rowen came for the second time. This time he spilled less than what he had before, but it was still enough to splatter onto Sage’s bared chest and pants.

       The blond withdrew his fingers and Rowen shivered, feeling exhausted both mentally and physically. His face was flushed a deep red, his azure tendrils hanging limply off his forehead and his pupils still dilated from the height of ecstasy. It had been worth coming all the way into the freezing attic and having sex on a Victorian era table.

       He turned his eyes to gaze at Sage, who was unbuttoning the fly of his pants and allowing his blood-swollen cock oozing with precome into the cold air. The blue-haired lad sat up on his elbows, uttering, “Sage . . . ?”

       His lover didn’t answer but climbed awkwardly onto the table and hefted Rowen’s legs over his shoulders, saying in a lust-coated hush, “Relax or I might hurt you.” And with those words he pushed his hips forward, ramming his cock into Rowen's body like a stake into the ground. Rowen cried out in pain and Sage hissed, “Relax, dammit! This isn’t like from behind — the angle’s different.”

       Rowen bit his lip and nodded, pretending the lower half of his body was numb and limp. It worked quickly, and Sage began his grinding routine. Rowen was so busy trying not to think about feeling the pain that he didn’t realize his cock had hardened again. Alas, how could one not be turned on by a striving blond on top of them, fucking them in the most horribly pleasing way? It was impossible.

       “Ahh! Uhh!” Rowen cried pitifully as Sage reached around and grabbed his hips, raising them to meet his thrusts. His grunts of exertion could be heard over Rowen’s feeble whining and echoed strangely off the wooden rafters above.

       Sage buried himself into Rowen and ejaculated wordlessly; a few moments later Rowen rid what was left of his seed and slipped into a faint, the act of fornication complete. Sage, arms and legs quivering weakly, slumped down on top of Rowen and tried to still his pounding heart. This was unlike any other kind of sex he’d had before. This was . . . something else.

       He closed his eyes tight. No, no. It was just sex. Not even that, they fucked. That was worse than the animals. At least animals had a purpose. This had no other reason than for the gratification of lust. Completely pointless, just the way it should be.

       But when Sage lifted himself off of Rowen and gazed down at the pink-cheeked, sleeping angel’s face beneath him, he felt something stir inside of him . . . and it wasn’t lust. The moment the thought entered his mind he denied it vehemently. No. Absolutely not. Out of the question.

       But his heart was telling him otherwise.

       Rowen came to slowly, blinking rapidly and stretching his sore body. There was the soft lapping of liquid, and he cleared his senses to find himself lying in a bathtub full of warm water. He sat up stiffly, running a hand through his wet hair. It smelled of shampoo, but not his own. Smelled like Sage’s.

       What happened? Did I faint? I don’t rememba fainting . . .

       He sighed and lay back down into the warm water, wondering what had become of Sage. Rowen was thankful, at least. That trip to the attic had made him dusty and his clothes smell old. He would stay in the bath just a little longer. He bent his knees and sank down just to his nose, closing his eyes and thinking about what a wild ride he had just taken. God, never had he known such feelings were capable of being conceived . . . that Sage of all people was the one to show him that they existed. It was unreal how he could make him feel. He’d never felt anything like when he was with the blond swordsman, bodies crushed against each other in frenzied passion . . .

       Rowen gurgled dreamily and curled his toes just thinking about it. Yes, he was quite pleased with the job. Well done, well executed. Sage had fucked him well and he was happy. A little sore and achy and tired, but very happy. No remorse at all. Who could regret sex with Sage?

       Rowen thought he had spent enough time in the bath and decided to get dried off, dressed and go see what had become of Sage. Maybe grab a snack, too. He was hungry. What time was it? Was it past dinnertime already? He pulled the drain plug and stood weakly to his feet, grabbed a towel and wrapped it around his waist, stepping out of the tub. As he was towel drying his hair he happened to notice the thick, black terry cloth bathrobe folded neatly on the bathroom counter.

       Sage’s robe.

       Rowen eagerly picked it up and clutched it to his chest like a sacred possession. Sage had left it for him. He must really think a lot of Rowen to leave him his robe. Maybe it was like marking territory, showing ownership. If so, Rowen had no qualms and slipped the robe on over his bare body, tying the cloth belt loosely and hugging himself with a grin. Oh, the scent of Sage . . . Rowen breathed it in and bit his fist. Then his mind wandered to more immediate concerns, like his growing appetite for something sugary.

       The door to the steamy bathroom opened and Rowen walked down the hall to his room. It was unusually quiet in the house tonight, but he heard some talking downstairs. Mia or Cye or somebody. He walked into his room, and even just glancing at the bed made him sleepy. He stifled a yawn and looked at the small clock on his bedside table. 7:09 PM. How long had he been out? They did the attic thing sometime in the late afternoon . . . ah, no matter. Rowen was seized with a sudden apathy and decided he would go downstairs and get some munch and then go straight to bed. To hell with getting dressed. Well, he’d put some socks on first. Gotta wear socks.

       A short while later he clomped down the stairs languidly, gave a half-ass hello to Cye, Mia and Kento in the living room and bumped through the kitchen door. Sage was sitting at the bar counter, reading a magazine and eating a bowl of pasta salad. He looked up when Rowen entered and smiled a little.

       “Hey,” he said.

       Rowen nodded once. “Yo.”

       “How are you doing?”

       “Fine. Why d’ya ask?”

       Sage shrugged. “Well, when you passed out and didn’t respond to me slapping your face I decided to drag you from the attic and dunk you in a tub of boiling water, which had no effect either. By the way, Ryo saw me carrying you in the hall and asked what happened.”

       “What’d you say?” Rowen asked, sitting down across from the blond.

       “I told him the truth — that we’d just had awesome sex in the attic.”

       “Did he believe you?”

       “He laughed at me. What do you think?”

       “I don’t get it. They always joke about us and yet when we play along they laugh it off.”

       “Well,” Sage muttered. “What they don’t believe won’t hurt them.” He closed his magazine and his attention re-centered. “Can I . . . fix a sandwich for you or something?”

       Rowen opened his mouth to decline but stopped himself. Sage, perhaps the most egocentric person in the whole house, was offering to do something for someone other than himself. Maybe Rowen wasn’t the only one feeling it, this, a strange feeling that Sage managed to give him. Maybe Sage felt it, too. Maybe this was a new side of him, a slow change slowly overtaking him. Maybe there was some reason to the rhyme they made when they were together. Maybe there was really a purpose and meaning behind this wonton indulgence; there were too many ‘maybes’ to be certain. But the least he could do is oblige.

       Rowen smiled gently and nodded. “Sure. A sandwich sounds great.”