Unfathomable

4.

Hashirama:

Being in the Alps was my mother's idea when I had a dry patch in my writing.

"You need a change of scenery. Go somewhere new. Somewhere with nature you've never seen before. Meet a cute boy." I had snorted. "Go somewhere, like the Alps."

She'd said this jokingly, but the week after, I'd booked my tickets.

I was going to do what I usually did when traveling and stay at a cheap hostel or with a host family, but I'd found this hotel when Googling and read about the family who ran it. On the contact page was a photo of the four members, and the children were obviously adopted, but they all looked so wholesome. Apparently, they ran much of it themselves to keep the family feeling. I had immediately decided to book the most expensive room they had in hope of supporting them in any way.

My mother had been right, and my writing was gracefully flowing from my fingertips through my pen to my paper. I never used electronic devices to write, only pen and paper, and then I paid someone to write it on my computer for me, usually a university student who needed some extra money, and I paid them almost triple of what the work was worth in the hope of helping them finance their studies. I found I loved it here. I loved it here, and I thrived. I couldn't ski for the life of me, but I enjoyed the walks in the snow, the glistening sun, the white surrounding me like a heavy duvet. But now, it was the evening, and I sat at my desk behind the vast Christmas tree, marveling at how lucky I was to experience all of this.

It was getting close to midnight, and I sighed. For some reason, there was an image I couldn't get out of my head. That black-haired boy, Madara, the oldest one of the two sons of the family owning the hotel, walking out of the bar hand in hand with that blonde, feminine man. I had felt my mood darken in a way I wasn't used to. I was worried about what it might mean.

I looked down on my papers. Either way, having him in my close proximity had inspired me to write. I was working on a new trilogy, about a figure skater trying to plough through a world of cruelty and prejudices. There was no love story behind it, which was very typical of my books, and which I believed caught people's interest, and then kept them interested. It reflected my own life, somehow. I had no lack of love interests, but I found I didn't trust people. There was always a motive behind, it seemed, especially now I was a well-known author... I didn't trust people loved me for me. I didn't always think it was just my money, either. Rather, I was afraid they had this picture of me in their minds that was not reflected in reality. That they were in love with me, the celebrity, not me, the person.

Suddenly, I heard voices. I looked around. They seemed to come from surprisingly close by, perhaps an adjacent room, but I'd never heard a thing the entire week I'd been here. They became clearer and clearer, and I could clearly hear the soft moans of two men.

They were low, husky, desperate. I could hear the rustling of metal as clothes came off, the sound of a crisp shirt being pulled off. There was a pause, then I heard soft kissing noises. There was something about the slowness of it all, the depth, the darkness, that made it incredibly arousing, and I slowly snaked my hand down to my trousers, started touching myself.

I could hear the two men starting to murmur things to each other.

"Faster... Take it off, faster!!"

"Madara..."

Holy fuck, it was him!

That darkness settled over my soul once more, and I felt anger towards the blonde man who'd pulled him. And yet, my arousal skyrocketed, and I could feel myself harden up.

"On your knees for me..."

The other man.

I heard soft, wet sounds, then the careful sucking by Madara and the moaning of the blonde. Shit, that man is lucky. Shit, shit, shit, shit, shit that man is lucky.

I hurriedly unbuckled my belt, grabbed my length, leaned my head back and started beating. Those soft moans had me leaking like a fountain already, and I closed my eyes as I pretended his lips were around me instead.

For two fucking hours, they just foreplayed, the sound of kisses and moans falling and rising as they fondled each other, bit, kissed, sucked. For half an hour, they just kissed non-stopp, sloppily, hungrily. I could hear the sound of one of them sucking the other's tongue. It drove me in-fucking-sane.

"Fuck me..." Madara pleaded. "I can't take it anymore. Baby, fuck me."

Fuck, to have him beg for you like that. Fuck, to fuck this boy. He seemed to have an insatiable lust for sex that was beyond this planet.

"Turn over for me. Good boy."

Madara was clearly a bottom, and I dismounted from my chair and sat on my knees, continuing to beat myself as I imagined myself shoving my shaft up him. There was a scream as he was penetrated, and I had to bite my hand to prevent myself from screaming, too, out of pure frustration from being in my room, alone. Then, those soft moans continued, of both of them somewhere far, far away together.

Their hunger for each other seemed insatiable, their stamina infinite as they kept going but never came over the edge. I was a sweaty mess trying to keep myself from coming, wanting to spare myself for when Madara came. My God, they were at it... Oh to be a teenager again. Finally, finally I heard Madara's voice change, becoming squeals and mewls and in the end even screams, and the blonde started to grunt.

"You feel soo good inside me!!" Madara screamed, out of his mind with pleasure.

And with that, the blonde came, screaming, and Madara moaned, and I bit my tongue until it bled as I poured over my hand, slumped down on all four.

I lay still, panting, and I could hear the two boys starting to kiss, Madara still moaning.

"You're so fucking cute", the blonde told him. "Who could've thought... A skier like you..." Another kiss. "So submissive."

Fuck. I couldn't stand it another second. I cleaned up the mess, took my coat and went out for a walk.