White Butterfly : Chapter 10
It was interminable. It was never ending. It was white light bearing down on Aya even as he clung to Crawford.
Crawford thrust inside him with no care for his concubine; he forced him against the floor so he might have a better angle. His mouth made sloppy patterns on Aya’s neck and one hand pulled lazily on his cock, the other being around his hip. Even that was painful.
He could hear Crawford’s gasping grunts, feel the thudding of his heart, see the way his eyes were screwed shut. Aya’s fingers hurt where he clung to Crawford. He didn’t know what else to do.
After an eternity of thrusting and withdrawing to thrust again-It seemed it was over. Crawford jerked against him and white-hot splashes coated Aya inside. He turned his head away from Crawford’s attempts to kiss him on the mouth.
It seemed to enrage him further.
He withdrew from Aya and with a slap to the face turned him over so that he was buried in his futon with his ass in the air. Crawford’s thin fingers dug into the curve of his pelvic bone. He could feel Crawford’s nails. He whimpered. If anything it seemed to drive Crawford on. Crawford was swollen and solid, Aya couldn’t help but try to pull away. It hurt so much. Crawford just tightened his grip, one arm wrapped around the soft flesh of his stomach and the other about his throat. He held on so tight Aya could barely breathe.
Then he pushed in. It was like murder.
It was like being torn apart.
Crawford was hot and long and hard and he did not fit. Aya couldn’t help but cry out, but Crawford just pushed in deeper. He went so deep Aya thought that he had been run through.
Aya could feel his wet hot pants at the back of his neck, the soft slap of his balls against his ass. He could feel each pull and the corresponding push as if it was a red-hot poker thrust inside him.
This was torture. Aya thought to himself.
This was like dying.
Crawford pulled out before the splash then pulled Aya up unto his knees, he kissed his back wetly, his tongue tracing over the raised flesh of the tattoo. “Mine,” he repeated, “forever, mine.”
“Yours,” Aya repeated because he didn’t know what else to do. His voice was hitching, Crawford released the arm about his chest and throat and instead manipulated Aya’s cock, it was half erect because he couldn’t help it. His hand pulled and twisted and Aya could feel each and every crease of his palm, the pressure of fingers against his balls, as Crawford pushed and pulled and pushed and pulled.
The changed position meant that Crawford hurt new places inside him and there was one place that stiffened his cock and made fireworks shoot inside his mind like the end of the world. Every time Crawford pushed forward Aya pulled back, writhing from the pain. Every time Aya called out it just drove Crawford on.
Aya’s face slipped and slid against the futon that occasionally swallowed his sobs.
The blanket tore underneath him.
His kimono was destroyed beyond repair as Crawford pulled back and pushed the head of his cock against Aya’s balls. Aya cried out again, his back arching and Crawford’s rough fingers found his nipples, the flat plain of his stomach. His fingers gripped the white flesh, his nails caught here and there.
He pushed the fingers of one hand into Aya’s mouth as he pushed back inside him causing Aya to choke.
“Beautiful,” Crawford mumbled as Aya cast his head back, “mine.”
Aya couldn’t answer him with the hand in his mouth.
The monstrous member inside him pressed against that spot inside him that was like the end of the world as Crawford’s free hand pulled roughly at his cock and arching his back into a perfect C, and despite himself and that there was no pleasure in this for him, Aya came. “Beautiful,” Crawford mumbled again and then turned Aya, lying him flat on the futon and sliding out of him. He proceeded to lap up the sticky fluid on Aya’s stomach and thighs like a cat.
Aya turned his head away from the spectacle. His hand fell to his face covering it as Crawford began to gently lap at his spent member.
It felt like torture and bliss at the same time.
It was so gentle.
It was not enough.
It was too much.
He could feel Crawford’s hot cock against his calf, hot and wet like a brand or acid. He could feel hot slick liquid trailing out of his ass. He was sore. He wanted to scream out, to bring his knees against his chest and turn away, but this was his duty. He just lolled back as Crawford brought his mouth around the spent flesh of his cock and began to softly suck, bobbing his head, cupping with his tongue. He rolled Aya’s fingers between index finger and thumb.
Against his own will Aya found himself moving his feet to find purchase against the matting and the futon, his heels slipping and skidding against the fabric. Crawford pulled back and wiped at his mouth with his fist before pulling Aya’s hand away from his face. “Let me see you,” he murmured and then pressed his entire weight against Aya’s, so that the burning expanse of his chest was pressed against Aya’s, so that his cock was pressed against Aya’s stomach and Aya’s own was against the line of hairs on Crawford’s.
It was exquisite.
It was terrible.
He wanted it to stop.
He wanted it to never end.
If not for the pain, Aya thought, this would be wondrous. But it hurt, it hurt so badly he wanted to be sick or cry out. It hurt so badly he wanted to die.
Crawford could see the tears in his eyes and he licked them away with the tip of a pink tongue. “my beautiful Aya,” he whispered, his breath hot and meaty against Aya’s ear, “my beautiful boy, mine, all mine.”
“Yours,” Aya repeated turning his face away from Crawford’s open-mouthed kiss, “I belong only to you.”
It seemed that was the signal Crawford was waiting for, with a roll of his hips he found Aya’s entrance easily and pushed in. Aya was slack and lubricated now so it was just a dull pain, easily ignored. Crawford rolled them so that Aya was above him, his thighs, scratched and welted, spread around Crawford’s wider hips, Crawford’s thighs holding him upright and rather than clutch at his hips, as Aya expected him, or even his ribs, which hurt from where he had clutched him so tight Aya had thought that he’d break, he threaded his fingers through his own. “My beautiful Aya.” Crawford replied and began to flex his hips, pushing himself into Aya.
Aya gave a hiccupping groan and unable to keep his back so still against the onslaught leant forward so his face was against Crawford’s. Crawford wetly kissed his cheeks, his eyes, his nose and accepted when Aya turned his face away from the kisses near his mouth.
Crawford came before Aya with a deep groan and a roll of the muscles of his stomach. He arched up, pushing himself as deep into Aya as he could go. Crawford cupped his face in one palm as he caught his ragged breath. He pulled back, Aya could feel the softening of Crawford’s cock as Crawford laid him down on the futon so very carefully. He had spent his rage inside Aya’s ass.
He crawled down again and lifting Aya’s hips up with his forearms he lowered his head between Aya’s thighs. He sucked one ball into his mouth, and then the other, rolling them around in his mouth. Then his tongue flickered against the skin behind them and Aya surprised himself by crying out. He lapped at the skin, his fingers like drums beating on the stretched skin of his hipbones. He pressed his tongue to Aya’s slack anus, then again. Aya arched in pain and finally passed out.
He awoke briefly to someone pressing a cold cloth against his forehead. He opened his eyes, though it hurt to do so, to see a man he didn’t recognise with sandy brown hair and a kind smile. “Don’t tell Ba-chan,” Aya croaked.
“Not if you don’t want me to,” the man said softly, wiping at Aya’s face.
“Did my duty,” he managed. The man continued with his faintly mocking smile as Aya passed out again.
The second time he awoke it was to the sound of voices but he was so hot and tired he didn’t bother to open his eyes. It was two men but he didn’t recognise either of them. “I think he’s dying.” One of them said.
“No,” the other said, “he’s strong. He won’t let something so trivial defeat him.”
The first answered but Aya couldn’t make out the words, he kicked away the blankets and the very effort drove him under.
The third time he was cold, so very cold. He was shivering as the men on either side of him pressed their naked bodies against his to keep him warm. He could see the sleeping face of the kind smiling man and knew he was safe. That he had kept his word and nuzzled against the neck, relaxed against the arm that was thrown over him, the other man’s, and slept.
Glossary
Ameratsu – The Sun goddess of Shinto
Aneki – older sister
Bikiko - Hel
Dairai – imperial court
Daimyo – a landowner or lord.
Danna – a patron
Doitsujin - German person
Ecchi – pervert
Edo – another name for Tokyo
Fundoshi – a wrapped loincloth worn by men
Gaiden – legend
Gaijin – Foreigner
Gei - art
Genkan – small area in front of the door where shoes are kept
Genki – chipper
Geta – a type of sandal, named for the sound they make
Hakama – split culottes
Hanzubon – shorts
Hikarin – Schoen
Horimono – Japanese tattooing
Iki – sense of style.
Juni Hitoe – Lit twelve layers
Kaasan – Mother
Kawaii – an exclamation of something’s cuteness.
Kimi – she who is without equal.
Kimono – a decorated robe
Konketsu – half-breed.
Kyu – the lowest ranking in Go
Minarai – a time of learning by imitation
Mizuage – a deflowering ceremony
Moku – two corresponding lines in go – marks one area
Monogatori – lit: story of a person; romances or stories
Nagajubon – a light white kimono worn under the more ornate robes
Natto - fermented soybeans
Nigiri – a pressed rice ball
Nihonjin – Japanese person
Noh – a type of drama performed with masks
Obi – the wide belt used to fasten a kimono
Okaasan - mother
Omemie - Neu
Omusubi – wrapped rice balls
Onmyoji – sorcerer
Ouji-sama – your highness.
Seppuku – ritual suicide by disembowelling
Seppun – the act of pressing mouths together- the worst of all perversions.
Shibari - the art of rope tying
Sumimasen – the most formal way of apologising
Tabi – split toed socks
Takoyaki – fried balls of octopus and flour
Tansu – a Japanese chest. This is a distinct style
Tanto – a short bladed sword, usually used by women, part of a set
Tatami – a mat, rooms are measured by tatami
Tayu – a very high-class courtesan, also called an Oiran
Usagi - Todt
Yukuta – a light cotton kimono worn for sleeping or festivals
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