Chapter Text
- - - C H A P T E R 2 - - -
How can a single moment seem to last forever? How can a measly few seconds feel like an eternity? His lips move but you almost don't hear the words, the sound of your own breathing, your own heart hammering like a choir in your ears and drowning out everything else around you. But even in the chaos of your own mind, you make them out as he speaks in a low hushed tone.
"Training starts at four am instead of five tomorrow...don't--don't fuck up my schedule."
Those were the only words Naoya Zenin stuttered at you after throwing open your door like he was being chased by the devil himself and your quarters would be his refuge. The room was silent in an eerie type way, apart from the ticking of the wall clock and the wobbling breaths that escaped your own lips; it was almost like time was standing still. You felt yourself freeze when his eyes trailed over your body; pupils and iris's glancing furiously at parts of you as though he's never gazed upon a naked woman before. You knew this not to be true; his occasional bout in the night was more than enough proof of his activities. But the way he looked at you now was different. This look was something else entirely.
It was a mixture of surprise and shock, mingled with an intensity of hunger and a near instant lust that you're pretty sure he was oblivious too in the moment. Naoya Zenin didn't lust after things, other than power and superiority. He didn't chase tail after women, he used them to satisfy his own needs, but never has he grown to become something as stupid as attracted.
You were acutely aware that you shouldn't meet his eyes directly; yours should always be downcast when in his presence. You should bow so that your head is lower than his for he deserves your respect. But in the moment you couldn't stop yourself. The flabbergasted way he gazed at you made you want to squeeze your thighs together, a heat initial to blossom in your groin at the horrible situation you found yourself in. A situation you had discreetly dreamed about night after night in the depths of your own wandering hands and pangs of arousal that you kept in check when on the job. The hot summer nights where his name left your lips in a quiet wanton sigh when your fingers finally pushed you over the edge as you writhed and groped yourself while imagining it to be him? It was becoming more and more frequent as the days and weeks passed as his personal attendant.
Naoya Zenin--Master Naoya Zenin to you.
His throat bobbed with stuck words, his hand trembled slightly on the door knob and his ears betrayed him with a poppy colored hue. These were the things you picked up on in the short time that he stood in your doorway. His gaze made you sweat, your own heart beating like a drum within the confines of your chest and you wondered if it would burst from you before splattering on the floor in a bloody heap. As quickly as he appeared, Naoya finally found the words and spat them at you quietly before turning and padding down the hall back to his own room, leaving your door hanging open for the world to see should someone else come to find the commotion.
You dropped your night clothes and rushed to the door, closing it softly and finally letting loose the breath that you had been holding. Were you in trouble for looking at him, for not bowing to him upon his arrival because of the shock that coursed through you? Would he beat you, stomp you until your ribs broke and you were gasping for breath, completely at his mercy? You felt a new pang in your chest, one that was sudden and thwarting even to you. You shook your head to try and rid them away, completely unaware and dumb to the fact that Naoya in the other room was fighting the same battle you were.
The thought of his hands on you, even to hurt you, was making you slick with want. Fuck--it was going to be a long night before you had to rise for the earlier morning training schedule change. You picked up your nightgown and gingerly placed it over your flushed skin, the material cool against you, pleasant and welcomed considering the fire that was brewing everywhere else. But there was nothing else to do, nothing else that you hadn't already planned on doing before Naoya's unexpected visit.
You lay in your own bed, eyes closed and hair fanning around your shoulder while hands moved deftly to your core, sliding gently between folds and finding that you were exceedingly ready for something that wasn't there. Ready to take what he would give you roughly--angrily-- no doubt in a way that would hurt in all the right ways. But how would you know--you've never even kissed a man before your father gave you to the Zenin Clan.
The room reeked of sake; so much so that you were convinced the walls themselves would smell like this for years to come. No amount of incense or scrubbing was going to help if they continued at this pace. You glanced to your side to see the empty gourds sitting neatly beside you, all of them drained and bone dry from the ministrations of the two men before you.
"Damn old man, I thought you were lying to me! You can hold your liquor, I'll give you that." Your father, a low ranking man in Jujutsu society had somehow encountered someone of a very high standing. Very high indeed.
Naobito Zenin, head clan member of one of the big three families and powerful influence.
You watched silently from your spot in the corner, holding another gourd of sake and ready to pour once one of them gave you the signal with a simple raise of hand. As far back as you recall; this had always been your life. Serving those who were better than you, but you didn't mind it. You had actually found that you were very good at your job, the praise making you proud in ways that others seem to struggle with. Where they felt unappreciated and disgusted at the duties they had to perform, you took them with pride and considered them a challenge.
You saw from your downcast glance that Naobito had silently gave you the signal, his small cup high in the air while cackling to your father, not bothering to look at you rather than expecting you to get the memo as you had been doing for hours now. You responded quickly, shuffling over like a shadow and pouring the liquid until he was satisfied.
"Well old--hic-- man, you've beaten me--hic-- fair and square," your father hiccupped out, his eyes now glazed over with a glossy look of drunkenness. "What do you--hic--want as your prize?" Your father wasn't the smartest man alive, even you knew this. A bet against the Zenin Clans head with something as broad as 'you win and I'll give you whatever you want'. Indeed your father wasn't the smartest, especially when any form of gambling was on the line.
"Whatever I want, eh?" Naobito pursed his lips, closing his eyes and taking his liquor down in a single swallow before setting the cup down and giving a glance over to you. He was far from drunk, having been doing this practically since childhood; it would take more than a few measly gourds of sake to get him buzzed. He fiddled with his moustache, tracing the finger along it to the point before cackling loudly and showcasing a huge grin. "How about her? My youngest, Naoya, needs someone who can keep up and she's done a fine job tonight. I imagine she would serve him well."
Praise from the head of the Zenin Clan made your heart swell with pride and you gripped the half empty gourd closer to your chest. It was heard to mask the smile that wanted to leak out from such high recognition, but you managed while keeping your eyes down instead of beaming them at Naobito with a sparkle that would no doubt make him laugh again. You felt the flutters of butterflies from his words, knowing that he spoke true. But even still at his praise you weren't expecting your father to not even put up a fight against Naobito Zenin, because who in this room even could?
"She's as useless--hic--as they come," he began to slur with a wave of his hand, "little cursed energy, no talents--hic--to speak of other than doing what she's told. You--hic--can have her old man. Right after this round!" You poured both another round of sake and listened with a mixture of sadness and excitement at a new beginning while the clinked their cups together.
That was the last night you saw any of your family again before Naobito whisked you away as the prize he had won.
Your room was growing stuffy, the scent of sex and sweat filling the air as you bit at the bunched up night gown in an effort to keep quiet. Your fingers worked rapidly against your core, pumping in and out as fast as you could make them go before curling at the spot you had grown to love in your depravity. Your nipples stood hard against the fabric of your clothing, rubbing and stimulating even more as hushed pants and whispers of Naoya's name flooded from your lips once you relinquished the fabric from your teeth.
You were so far gone, so deep in the blackness of the ocean of your wants and needs that if someone were to enter the room again, you're not sure you could stop. Not sure you could halt his name from singing from your lips. You hadn't even realized you were chanting it like a spell.
"Naoya--M-Master Naoya," you breathed out, head lolling to the side as your knees fell apart wider to accompany your own ministrations. Your stomach was stretching tight with ever breath you took, heart pounding as his face--that smug and handsome face--flashed in your mind once more. Fuck, the pompous smirk that he gave others would undo you in an instant if he ever shot it your way. The squelch from your fingers working inside of you mixed with your other hand circling around your pearl was almost enough--almost, but not quite.
Had you known or been privy to the knowledge that Naoya was in the other room struggling as much as you were, you would have almost laughed at the situation. Two souls getting off to each other without the other knowing was the plot of a horrible romance comedy. But the fire burning in your veins was scorching you from the inside out, burning parts of your soul in an effort to quell the flames. You rose from the bed with speed; pushing back the bangs that were sticking to your forehead and grabbed the body pillow you slept with every night while ripping the night gown from your body to feel some sort of cool relief.
You have done many questionable things before in your journey of self pleasure, but you had never done this before. Never imagined the scene as hard as what you were about to do. Your eyes closed, cheeks flushed harder as you straddled the pillow, bunching it at the sides with your thighs before spreading your lips and opening yourself up before lowering down completely. The cold feeling of the pillow was intense against the raging heat of your core, pleasant and yet a little shocking. You placed your hand in front of you, eyes still closed as you imagined you palm to be running over the planes of Naoya chest.
Would he let you touch him like this? Let the pads of your fingers trace gently over the dips and grooves of his body before he grabbed your wrist and told you to stop with an arrogant glint in his eyes? You gasped out a small sigh when you rolled your hips over the pillow experimentally. The friction of the fabric was a little rougher than you imagined it to be, but the sensation of something frizzy instead of smooth fingers was a welcomed change. You began to rock in a slow heated motion; your pearl rubbing with delicious sensations that jolted through you like you had been struck with lightening from above.
You threw your head back, mouth hanging open as your hands came to your breasts, squeezing and kneading them in a way you imagined he would. His hands would be rough, both in their motions and in their physical attributes. His fingers and palms would be calloused against your supple skin from his everyday training, brushing over your nipples before pinching and pulling until you bit your lips in pain. And what would his mouth feel like on them? Would his tongue lap at you gently like a pup starved, or would he be sadistic, biting your bud between teeth and holding it until it was sore before flicking it with the tip of his tongue?
"Ngh--Master Naoya--ah!" You rocked harder, picturing him under you. Would he actually praise you for once, tell you what a good job you were doing riding his cock? Or would he be angry that you were on top; angry that you were looking down on him? Your head above his for the first time? Or perhaps he would take control another way, grabbing your hips and rolling them in time with the harsh thrusts into your core until tears sprang from your eyes? Even so you would still call his name as your release washed over you with his bruising grip.
You twisted your hips faster now, the unimaginable scenario lighting a fire in your veins hotter than you have ever felt before. Like liquid lava burning you from the tips of your toes to the top of your ears. The blood lust was everywhere now and you rocked harder, the pillow become wet and slick under your dripping folds. "N-Naoya, please--please Master Naoya--hah." The spring in your stomach was almost it its limit now, coiled tightly and only a hair away from destruction. You wanted it so bad, wanted to let it loose as watch as it destroyed everything in its path.
Your body was growing tired, legs starting to quiver as you maintained speed, so you switched positions again in a final effort to reach bliss. You lay down, belly first on the pillow now, your legs spread wider, breasts pressed against the fluffy cotton as your pants and ragged breaths came out in tandem with each other. You wanted this to be real, wanted to feel you chest pressed against his, sweat mixing together as his tongue invaded your mouth to the point that breathing wasn't an option, only drowning. You wanted to trail your own tongue along his collar bone before sucking a deep purple spot and hearing whatever noise he would make. Would he moan? Groan? Gods--would he fucking whimper from the action?
Would he say your name for the first time?
These thoughts were enough to make the coil burst loose and you buried your face into the pillow to practically scream out his name. Your hips and thighs squeezed together on the pillow as you drenched the fabric with your spend, feeling the cotton swell as it absorbed you underneath it frantically. Your heart was erratic, your fists clamping with a white knuckled grip against the sheets of the mattress as you rode through the high that was your orgasm, all the while picturing him in your mind--your Master Naoya.
You body shivered in the aftermath, a small twitch of your lips as reality hit you like a wall with the feelings you have stupidly developed for a horrible person. You could almost chuckle, but instead you can only whisper out from your slumped over position, "Fuck you, Master Naoya."