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“Saejima-san, can I ask you something?”
The voice was barely audible. Did he imagine it? Saejima wasn't sure. Who could've blamed him? It was in the middle of the night. Apart from the guards, most of Abashiri penitentiary was fast asleep. He could tell, from their snoring, that two of his cellmates definitively were, too. As for Baba...
Saejima turned around, groaning.
“I’m sure ya can, Baba-chan", he muttered, half-asleep. “What's eatin’ ya?”
He could vaguely make out Baba's silhouette. The young man hemmed and hawed until he spoke up.
“I wonder... What happened to your jacket?”
Saejima blinked in confusion.
“My jacket?”
Baba nodded.
“When we found you in the shed today, your jacket was, well, not there," he chuckled slightly. “I know, I know, it's a silly thing to ask but I couldn’t get it out of my head.”
Saejima yawned.
“A lost jacket keeps ya awake at night? Yer an odd one, Baba-chan. It's just a piece of cloth. Ain't important to lose sleep over.”
He smiled, even though Baba probably couldn't see it, turned around, and soon was fast asleep.
Baba listened to Saejima's deep breathing and stared into the darkness.
He'd really like to know where Saejima's jacket had disappeared to.
Somewhere else in Abashiri penitentiary, another inmate was still awake.
He had most of the room to himself. His cellmates had learned that it was wiser to stay out of his way, or else one might wake up with an elbow to the face. Or not see the next day at all. Everything was possible with the creep.
Kugihara sniffed at the jacket in his hands. It smelled of blood and sweat and snow. And it smelled of Saejima.
Intoxicating!
Chuckling to himself, Kugihara pushed his nose deep into the fabric. The scent drove him almost mad with desire. Every fiber of his body seemed to be on fire. The scar across his skull and face prickled. An itch, he couldn’t scratch. Sweat beaded on his brow.
Breathing heavily, he wrapped himself around Saejima's jacket. It was easy to imagine how it would feel to hold the man's strong body instead. After all, Kugihara had touched him more than once during their torture sessions. Remembering the past day and how Saejima had buckled under punches and blows, he licked over his lips. A hot sensation bloomed inside his body.
Moaning, he pressed his face into the rough fabric. His hands shaking, he dug his fingers into the jacket, tearing and caressing, a bizarre combination of tenderness and violence. He imagined the fabric to be Saejima's skin. How it would break under his fingernails. How the blood would ooze out, painting muscles and skin a beautiful crimson.
Kugihara lost himself in the fantasy. He tossed and turned, his skinny body trembling with lust. Rolling onto the jacket, he trapped it under his full weight, rubbing his lower body against the futon and garment.
“This is so nice, Saejimaaa. I knew you’d be into it,” he murmured into the darkness, his voice shaking with ecstasy. He wished the darkness would answer, a stifled moan, a sigh. Pity, that there was nothing but his own panting and the sound of rustling clothes.
Kugiharas movements became more aggressive. Blood rushed in his ears. The sound of his own breathless gasps drove him on and on. Violent shudders ran through his overheated body, while sweat rolled over his back. A sensation, unbearable sweet!
For a split second, everything seemed to come to a standstill. His movements, his heartbeat, time.
And then, sweet, sweet release.
Satisfied, Kugihara rolled onto his back, the crumpled jacket draped over him like a blanket.
One day, perhaps, he’d do the same to Saejima. For now, this simple piece of fabric had to do. And he would enjoy every second of it!
~The End~