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Usami seethed as he stood over Ogata's bed, watching as the man slept. Ever since he had joined the 7th, a jealousy and hatred had begun to consume the superior private. He had always been Tsurumi-san's number one. He was to hold the torch and light the flames. But Ogata had taken all of his focus, his attention. Usami wasn't needed anymore, not with fucking Hyakunosuke around to be the new toy. So he stood, moonlight from the window illuminating Ogata's face, his neck... Just one slice and it would all be over, right? So Usami leaned down, raised the knife in his hand...
And gray eyes opened to meet his own.
Ogata scrambled off the bed and tackled Usami with as much force as his sleep-addled body could dredge up. They collided on the hard floor of their shared room, Usami's knife clattering next to them. “What the fuck are you doing, Usami?” Ogata hissed. He was barely able to see the superior private's face in the dark but he could feel the glare being sent his way. A cold, penetrating gaze filled with a malice Usami exclusively felt for him. It was familiar, in a way. A mutual feeling they'd learned to revel in together.
Usami's voice cut into the silence of the room, a low groan of pain before, “I was going to kill you, bitch. I saw what you did to Lieutenant Tsurumi. I'm sick of how much time he spends on a pathetic slut like you.” He punctuated his words by spitting in Ogata's face, teeth bared. “Hmm? Lieutenant Tsurumi? Are you talking about what happened in the carriage?” Ogata smiled, a fake politeness that hid his disgust and rage. “What, you're not jealous, are you?” Usami wriggled his way free of Ogata's grasp, stumbling to his feet, “Jealous? No...you just need to be taken care of. I'm sick of a miserable brat like you getting all of the attention!” The very proof of jealousy Usami denied, spoken for all to bare like it was the smartest thing in the world. It made Ogata laugh, “You're pathetic.”
Then Usami was on his stomach, the splintered wood of the floor digging into the flesh of his cheek as he was shoved down. Ogata's movements were swift, practiced as he pulled Usami's right arm back toward the center of his body, twisting until the bone gave and snapped under the pressure. Usami screamed, flailed as he tried desperately to get away from Ogata's assault. “Fuck! What the fuck, Hyakunosuke?” God, it hurt. He held his breath until his arm was finally dropped, landing on the floor and sending another shock of pain through him. Ogata smiled above him, patting Usami on the head in a false gesture of support. “Hurts, doesn't it?” He turned Usami back over, watching as his head lolled and his eyes glazed. Then Ogata looked him over, freezing when he saw his newest problem to add to the list. “Usami. What the fuck.”
Really, it shouldn't have been surprising to either of them. Usami was the definition of a depraved man, finding pleasure and joy in the most disgusting of acts. Ogata would never forget the time he watched him get off in a trench during the war, trigger finger sheathing itself into a fresh bullet wound in his side. He was horrific. But to get a boner after getting his arm broken... It was ridiculous, really, and it drove Ogata into a role of responsibility he didn't want to have to take. He would, though, he always did. He couldn't count the amount of times a screaming match between the two of them ended in sex. It was how they worked, it was routine.
Familiar. Nostalgic.
Usami panted under him, pants tented and fucked up arm helpless at his side. “This isn't the worst reason I've gotten hard because of you. Are you gonna take care of your fucking problem or what, bitch?” It was false confidence and they both knew it, but Usami would always prefer to bristle up and act the tough guy over the wounded rabbit he'd actually become.
Ogata was halfway tempted to leave Usami there, desperate and abused on their bedroom floor – but the fact that for once, the superior private didn't have the ability to truly fight back, it made him feel powerful. Needed, in a way. He pressed his hand down against the tent in Usami's military slacks, rewarded with a hiss and his hips thrusting up to chase the stimulation. “Come on, you whore, hurry it up.” Usami barked at him and Ogata swiftly backhanded him in the face. “Complain again and I'll cut your dick off and break your other arm.” He was in part tempted to test if the threat was serious, but Usami remembered who he was laying with and quickly pursed his lips together, a visual show of restraint.
Usami watched Ogata pull his pants down to his ankles, spit into his hand and grab his cock hard enough to hurt. They'd never even tried to be gentle with one another – every encounter they had ended with blood and cum covering them, bruises and scratches over their bodies. Usami couldn't say which one of them got the worst of it, it was a fairly equal give-and-take. He was happy with the arrangement, more or less, though he'd complain about the aftermath regardless. Even with the context of their current altercation, Usami could find something to enjoy from all of this. He'd take Ogata's abuse, his torture, his seed. Pleasure is pleasure, no matter how one finds it.
Ogata loomed over Usami like a feral animal, sitting on his legs and staring down at him as he stroked his cock. “Pathetic,” Ogata spat, “you can't even go one night without needing me to touch you. It's been a week, right? You act like you're addicted.” Usami responded with a laugh, thrusting his hips up in small, stuttered motions. “Yeah, sure, I'm obsessed. You're the one who broke my arm and decided to give me a handjob after.” Ogata set his jaw and dug his nails into the skin, watching as Usami arched his back and howled. “You tried to fucking kill me tonight. You deserve more than a broken arm.”
Usami opened his mouth to speak and Ogata shoved his fingers inside his mouth. He dared to bite, just a little, punished again by blunt nails digging into the meat of his cock and drawing blood. He sobbed around Ogata's fingers, sucking on them like Tsurumi-san had told him to. Moments later and Ogata was shoving the digits inside of Usami's ass, fucking him open without a care in the world for his comfort. He deserved this anyway, didn't he? Pain and agony, even in an act that was intended to be pleasurable. Ogata pulled them out and away after a few quick thrusts, leaning down and spitting onto Usami's hole before undoing his own belt and pulling his cock out of his pants.
The way Usami was moaning was obscene, loud as Ogata thrust into him. The preparation hadn't been enough but neither of them had the patience, nor did they care if Usami bled after. “Yeah, fuck, you like that? You like this pussy, Hyaku?” Ogata groaned, lifting one of Usami's legs over his shoulder and fucking into him at a frenzied, erratic pace. With the angle, every thrust forced Usami to press against the floor, pain shocking through his broken arm. It was driving him insane, tears pricked at his eyes as obscenities tumbled out of his mouth faster than he could think, “Shit, yeah, fuck me. Oh my God, Ogata your cock feels so good!”
“Just shut up, will you?”
Ogata always hated how much Usami wanted to talk during sex. It was loud, disruptive, and put too much of his focus on how it was Usami he was fucking. If he would be quiet for a minute, maybe he could pretend it was someone better, someone more deserving of his time. But that would never happen, and he knows Usami enjoys tormenting him by making a scene of it all. “Fuuuck...Yeah you love fucking my cunt, don't you Hyaku? Oh, right there! Yes!” Ogata grimaced at the obscene display, spitting in Usami's face. “You're disgusting. This is all you're good for.” Usami growled in warning, but kept his mouth shut for once.
Any form of shame and common sense was lost in Ogata's mind, leaked out and replaced with a need to chase pleasure. It was sloppy, painful, his knees hurt from being against the wooden floor, but that almost made it better. His whole body ached, all with the intention and purpose of getting an orgasm and destroying his coworker. And after the display Usami had shown him minutes before, was he really deserving of anything else? Ogata kept his eyes down, grabbing Usami's cock and stroking it in attempt to match pace. Usami was a broken record, choking out repeated words and broken syllables as he was thoroughly used, “Fuck, fuck, fuck, Hyakunosuke!” He would never admit it, not in this lifetime or any thereafter, but Usami's desperate plea, his call of his given name – it was what snapped something inside of him. He broke, spilling cum inside of Usami's ass, filling him like a two sen whore.
Usami had came sometime around then. He stared down at Ogata, panting and thoroughly fucked up. The soreness of his body had finally come through, he began to understand the gravity of how badly he had gotten hurt this time around. He spread himself when Ogata pulled out, watching the obscene display of Ogata's cum and some of his own blood trickling out of his hole and puddling on the wooden floor. “Oh, God... You're, uh, gonna help me clean up at least, right? Hyakunosuke?”
He looked up and Ogata was leaving, the door slamming shut. Usami sat there, half-naked, covered in sex and stuck with a single working arm. “For fucks sake... Tsurumi-san's going to be pissed.”