Disclaimer: Do. Not. Own.

Warnings: Rating for language, sexual concepts, and acts. This is yaoi.

Summary: Or, Five Times Kobayakawa Sena Defied Expectations.


The first time Agon tried to fuck Kobayakawa Sena, he got the shit beat out of him.

He hadn't expected it. Sena was just so fucking girly, all weak and cringing and whimpering Sumimasen with every other breath. Agon had figured him to be the virginal type—a few stammering protests, some mildly exciting struggling as the clothes came off, and then maybe some tears and a few breathless moans as he lay there, like fucking a wet pillow. And afterward maybe he'd cry, and Agon could leave while the fucking girl was still trying to get his pants on.

The whole thing started out the way it was supposed to. He got the short trash back to his house, made sure the Kobayakawas really weren't home, followed the trash up to his room, and then, while Sena was looking at his stack of Kurosawa movies, Agon came up behind him and—

"No," said Sena.

The firm tone of that single word was enough to make Agon stop and glare down at him. "What?"

"I said no." Sena looked like he was either angry or about to cry. Only one of those things made sense. "I—I don't want to."

Didn't want to? "Then why am I up here?"

Then the trash looked hurt. "I thought—I just thought you wanted to spend time with me..."

"That's what I'm fucking doing, isn't it?"

"Not this! I mean—"

Fucking shit. What had he been expecting? Like Agon wanted to go up to his room and cuddle? Had this trash thought he'd been going kilometers on kilometers out of his fucking way to walk this trash home from the station because he wanted to watch movies? He'd been taking Sena home for a week already! He didn't do that for women.

"Fuck this."

The look of sheer panic on Sena's face when Agon kicked his legs out from under him and then pinned him to the floor was one of the most unexpectedly hottest things ever.

"No! No—Agon—get off—aaah—"

Sena began to struggle. Really hot, actually, nothing mild about it, seams ripping, buttons coming off, eyes filling with tears, and Agon was thinking that Sena might even actually scream, and he was so hard at that point, imagining Sena screaming at every—

A fist hit his face.

Not painful at all. But it was shocking enough to make Agon stop again.

Sena, looking like something out of a porn mag, glared up at him. Shirt open and torn, his belt undone, face flushed red and tears in his eyes and on his cheeks. Agon could have blown a load just looking at him.

"I said no," said Sena, and actually tried to push Agon off of him.

This idiot! "You idiot!"

He pressed back down on Sena, intent on getting the pants and underwear off. What the fuck was the matter with this brat? All he had to do was just lie down for a few minutes and then Agon could be on his way, could have just got this out of his system, because he was clearly going completely fucking insane to want anything to do with this simple-minded virgin, because he definitely wasn't a fag, he just needed this one thing and then he'd forget this moron even existed—

He yelled when Sena bit him.

Bit him hard, in the hand, and when Agon pulled back Sena was shoving at him, hitting him in the face with a fist as hard as he could. Agon used one hand to grab his jaw and hold it, the other to work at the zipper of Sena's pants and suddenly there was a stinging pain on his cheek and chin.

Sena was tearing at him. With his nails. His blunt, square boy's nails.

And while Agon couldn't have said that it actually hurt, it did surprise him enough that he let go of Sena when he shouldn't have.

"Fuck—"

Sena pulled away from him, got his legs free and began kicking Agon in the face. Agon would have been slightly impressed if he hadn't been so fucking pissed. The kicks, unlike the punches, actually hurt a little. One of them sent the desk chair rattling into a wall.

"Fucking trash—"

He got hold of Sena's legs, was yanking him closer, was thinking about slapping the trash a couple of times to get him to calm down, when Sena's left foot got him in the balls.

The pain. Agon, unfamiliar with this particular agony, loosened his grip again. He was aware of Sena pulling away from him, and lifted his head, teeth clenched, having decided to take the trash by the throat and resolve this issue once and for all. Foreplay was one thing, but this—Sena owed him much more than a few minutes for this. "You—"

If his reflexes hadn't been totally impaired by the suffering of his balls, Agon knew Sena could never have done what he did next. As it was, Agon could only watch, with a shocked, silent No way. as Sena hefted the lamp he'd grabbed from his desk and smashed it down into Agon's head.

From a far, distant place, Agon seemed to hear someone who sounded a lot like Sena shouting "GET OUT OF MY HOUSE!" and then the slam of a door.

Agon himself laid there for a few more seconds, suspended between consternation and rage. Then, when the torture in his sack had become something at least tolerable, Agon staggered to his feet.

The fucking trash. The goddamn bitch. Did he think he was getting away with this? Did he think he could not fucking put out when Agon wanted it and just walk away? Did he think Agon was his fucking boyfriend? This was bullshit. All that walking home, all that stuttering conversation Agon had put up with, and the fucking trash thought he could just walk away?

Agon threw the desk chair across the room, into another wall, kicked the broken lamp into the TV, and left the room. Where had that—there. The door to the bathroom was closed. From inside he could hear—he could hear—

He was standing right in front of the door, ready to kick the fucking thing in, when he realized Sena was crying.

Quietly. In a stifled sort of way, as if he were trying not to. Trying very hard not to. As if he wanted to strangle the noise in his throat before it left his mouth.

The image formed in Agon's brain of Sena huddled beside the furo, his head in his hands, clothes torn and nearly off, shaking and gasping in the dark as he tried not to cry.

Agon didn't know if he made a sound, but then the crying abruptly cut off.

"Get out!" shouted Sena, from the other side the door. His voice was hoarse, but otherwise it was just loud. As if he'd swallowed his tears. "I have my phone! I'll call the police, don't think I won't! So just get out!"

His voice cracked on the last word. Then there was a hush, as if Sena was listening for an answer.

Agon left.

He went to Sena's room, picked his jacket up off the floor, put it on, went downstairs, and let himself out. He even closed the door behind him.

And then he walked to the terminal.

This was a lost fucking cause. Agon knew it. The only thing left to do was forget about it and call some willing pussy. God knew that wasn't hard to find. In fact, Agon didn't know what he'd been thinking, chasing after a fag virgin the way he had when there were at least ten hot bitches who'd lay out the snatch mat for him within a two-station subway ride. Some perversion to know what it was like, he figured, some curiosity to know if fucking Sena would be anything like—

What a waste. Kobayakawa Sena should have been born a girl. Would have been fucking hot, with soft brown hair, those dark, tearful eyes, the small, trembling body...

Agon thought about calling someone. There was that one hostess from the club, or maybe the karaoke manager. Or, if he were in the mood for blonds, those receptionist bitches from the gym, or even that one from...

The place on his head where the lamp had hit him was aching.

When he got home, Unsui was already there.

"Agon," said Unsui, and just—stopped. Eyes wide. Like he'd been previously unaware he had a brother named Agon.

Agon waited—a second—but when nothing else seemed to be coming, he sneered. "Yeah, Unko-chan?"

Unsui was staring. Agon stared back.

"You," began Unsui. "Where have you been?"

What the fuck? "What's it to you?"

Unsui was still staring at him. Agon was actually beginning to get irritated when his brother finally moved.

—and, walking right up to Agon, placed his hands on his shoulders.

"Agon," said Unsui, the most serious expression on his face, "I know I shouldn't interfere in your life, but—"

Agon was so taken aback he waited.

"No means no," said Unsui.

Beating his brother's face in wasn't anywhere near as satisfying as fucking Sena until the virgin couldn't stand would have been. But it helped.

In the bathroom, he surveyed the damage. Scratches, all along one cheek and down to the chin. Some bruising beneath his eye and the cheekbone of the same side. When he touched his head where the lamp had hit, his fingers came away slightly bloody.

Agon didn't even want to look at his balls.

Fuck. The virgin sure as hell wasn't shy about hitting people.

Who would have thought? Kobayakawa Sena, the coward, the whiner, the weak, meek underclassman. Girls just gave in and spread their legs. Sena had tried to dent his fucking skull.

Only a sick, sick person would find that hot. But Agon had an erection anyway.

It didn't mean anything. It didn't mean anything that Sena's face was what he was thinking about as he jerked off in the shower. It didn't mean anything that he went through his contacts list, looking for a girl, any girl, who was short and brown-haired and dark-eyed, before giving up and just jerking off again. It didn't mean anything that he couldn't seem to get that crying out of his head, Sena hiding in the bathroom with his torn clothes, biting back his tears.

It didn't mean anything that he imagined Sena helpless beneath him, eyes closed and face flushed as he cried out with pleasure, arching his small, runner's body into Agon's, as he came into his fingers.

It didn't mean anything.

There was no fucking way Agon was going back. Sena had made it clear what the situation was. And Agon was not in the wrong. He'd walked the fucking trash home for a week—obviously, it was the trash's turn to reciprocate and fucking put out. Now, Sena was more likely to call the cops than let Agon within thirty meters, and Agon had better things to do than deal with that kind of grief. There were plenty of pussies and probably even—if he were at all interested, which he wasn't—cocks out there that would throw it at his feet if he so wanted.

No one in their right mind would go back after what had happened. No one.

So the look on Sena's face when he turned a corner three blocks from his house and found Agon waiting for him almost killed Agon.

"Trash," said Again, as if nothing had ever happened.

That was Sena's cue to say "Kongo-san!" and blush and look down.

Only he didn't.

Sena's face was white. Something that looked a lot like honest terror was rising in those eyes. He took a shaky step back, and looked as if he were really thinking about running away.

Agon opened his mouth to say What're you fucking looking like that at me for, trash? and instead heard himself say, "I want to watch a movie."

Sena's mouth opened. But he didn't say anything.

Agon—waited, eyes on Sena, feeling with strange acuity the tape on his face, the bandages over the worst of the bruises and cuts.

"My parents are home," said Sena. Without inflection, though his face was still wary.

A sneer, and then Agon muttered, "Yeah."

Sena looked at him, wonderingly and for a long while, and when he began walking again, he said, almost under his breath, "Agon."

So Agon turned and began walking toward Sena's house actually next to Sena. He worried a little that Sena might try to hold his hand.

Sena didn't.