Chapter 40: Morning Appetites
The cedar scent of the room was the first thing Ken registered. Then the diffuse, grey light filtering through the paper screen door. Monday morning.
He was on his futon, the rough cotton sheet beneath him. He was naked. The blanket was tangled around his ankles. He pushed himself up on his elbows, a dull ache pulsing behind his eyes. His mouth tasted stale, alien.
Across the quiet room, his friends were still asleep in their futons. Liam was on his stomach, one long arm dangling off the side. Sam was curled neatly. Cole had an arm thrown over his face. Jesse lay sprawled on his back, snoring softly. They all wore their yukatas, the navy fabric rumpled and loose from sleep.
Ken’s mind felt padded, muffled. He tried to grasp the previous night. The bathhouse. Steam. Laughter. Walking in together. Then… a wall. A blur of heat and shadow and sound with no definable shape. Nothing concrete after they’d stepped into the private bath area. A blank span of hours, empty and faintly ominous.
He shook his head, but the fog didn’t clear.
His gaze traveled over his sleeping friends. He noticed it then—the distinct, tell-tale tents in the fabric of their yukatas. Morning flags, as Cole had once joked. Liam’s was a pronounced ridge along his thigh. Jesse’s pointed straight up, a clear outline against the cloth. Sam’s was a smaller bulge. Cole’s was visible even with his laptop case lying nearby.
A normal thing. A biological function.
But as Ken looked, a different kind of hunger uncoiled in his gut. It was sudden, visceral, and entirely separate from his muddled thoughts. His mouth actually watered. A sharp, craving image flashed behind his eyes: leaning over Jesse, parting the yukata, taking that stiff cock into his mouth. The taste of salt and sleep. The weight on his tongue. The idea didn’t feel like a perverse fantasy; it felt like a solution, a necessary act to settle the strange, hollow anxiety in his chest.
The clarity of the impulse shocked him. He froze, staring at Jesse’s form.
What the fuck is wrong with me?
He slipped out of his futon, the tatami mats cool under his bare feet. He crept across the room, his own cock hanging soft and ignored. He knelt beside Jesse’s futon. He could smell him—sleep and the faint, clean scent of the onsen soap. The urge intensified, a magnetic pull. His hand trembled as he reached out, fingers hovering inches from the knot of Jesse’s yukata belt.
Jesse stirred. A grunt. He shifted, the fabric tightening over his erection.
Ken snatched his hand back, heart hammering against his ribs. Panic, hot and sour, flooded his throat. He scrambled backwards, away from Jesse, away from the others, his naked skin prickling with a shame that had no clear source. He stumbled into the small, tiled bathroom and shut the door without a sound.
He braced his hands on the sink, head hanging, and stared at his wild-eyed reflection. The confusion was a tight ball in his stomach. Where did that come from? The blurred memory, this… this wanting? He turned the cold tap on full and cupped the water, splashing it violently against his face again and again. The shock of it grounded him, washing away the saliva that had gathered in his mouth, but not the disturbing echo of the desire.
When he emerged, towel-drying his face, the others were beginning to wake. Groans and stretches filled the room.
“Ugh, my head feels like soup,” Liam mumbled, sitting up and rubbing his eyes.
“What time is it?” Sam asked, voice gravelly.
Jesse sat up, yawning hugely, his yukata falling open to reveal his chest. The prominent bulge was still there. Ken quickly looked away, focusing on folding his own futon with excessive precision.
“I don’t remember getting back,” Cole said, blinking owlishly. He reached for his glasses. “Last thing I remember is booking that private bath.”
A silence settled over them, heavy and curious.
“Yeah,” Ken said, his voice carefully neutral. “Same.”
Jesse scratched his stomach. “Weird. Must’ve been those steam fumes or something. Super relaxing.” He didn’t sound concerned, just factual.
“I’m fucking starving,” Cole announced, closing his laptop. “Like, hollow-leg starving.”
Jesse’s face lit up. “Dude, yes. I could eat a whole pig. Let’s hit the breakfast buffet.”
The bizarre mental gap was shelved, overshadowed by a more immediate, collective need. There were no questions, no comparing notes. It was as if they’d all silently agreed the missing hours weren’t worth digging up.
They moved around each other in the small space, a morning routine forged over the weekend. They brushed their teeth at the twin sinks, Ken acutely aware of every bare shoulder and sleepy smile. They splashed water on their faces. No one mentioned the night before. No one looked at Ken with any particular knowledge. The normalcy was comforting and, in a way, more unsettling than if they’d remembered.
Ken pulled on his yukata, tying the belt tightly. The silk felt strange against his skin, a barrier he was suddenly grateful for.
“Ready?” Liam asked, running a hand through his messy red hair.
Ken nodded, falling into step behind them as they shuffled out of the room and into the quiet hallway. The resort was stirring, the smell of miso soup and grilling fish beginning to waft from the dining hall. His stomach growled, agreeing with the plan.
But as he walked, a faint, deep ache made itself known in his muscles—a specific, internal soreness he couldn’t place. He pushed the feeling down, buried it under the anticipation of food, and followed his friends toward the smell of breakfast, the blank space in his memory lingering behind him like a silent, uninvited guest.
Breakfast was a quiet, purposeful affair. They ate grilled fish and rice, the simplicity of the food grounding. Ken kept his eyes on his plate, the strange hunger from the morning thankfully absent, replaced only by that persistent, unplaceable soreness.
He caught Liam watching him once, a thoughtful crease between his brows.Ken offered a small, forced smile. Liam smiled back, and the moment passed without words.
After settling the bill, they returned to the room to pack. Ken stood uselessly in the center as his friends folded yukatas and zipped toiletry bags.He had nothing to gather.The reality of it was a cold, practical fact.
“Oh, right,” Sam said, noticing Ken’s empty hands. “You came with nothing.” He folded his own yukata with precise corners.
Liam finished stuffing his bag and slung it over his shoulder.“Let’s get out of here. Checkout was at eleven.” He led the procession out, Ken falling into step behind him, naked and exposed in the sterile hallway light.
His cock was already hardening, a traitorous, automatic response to the walk through the public space. It bobbed faintly with each step. A staff member polishing a vase gave a polite, knowing nod.Ken focused on the pattern of the tatami mat lining the corridor.
Sunlight hit them as they exited the main building, sharp and warm. The gravel of the parking lot crunched under their shoes, a different texture from the resort’s silent floors. Liam’s car, a silver sedan, sat a short walk away.Ken waited beside the passenger door, the sun warming his shoulders. His friends loaded their bags into the trunk.Sam closed the trunk lid with a soft thud. “Pon said report Tuesday,” he stated, leaning against the car. “That’s tomorrow.”
Cole nodded, adjusting his glasses.“Right. For us four, there’s nothing stopping us from going in today, technically. No specific orders.”
A jolt of pure, cold anxiety shot through Ken.He hadn’t considered this. He looked at his own bare body, then at the distant city skyline.Jesse caught his look. “But if Ken shows up today, Pon will find a reason,” he said, his tone light but his eyes serious. “He’d say Ken disobeyed the ‘return Tuesday’ order by being on the premises early. He’d punish him for it.You know he would.”
The truth of it was undeniable. Ken stared at the asphalt, his hard cock now feeling like a target.
Liam unlocked the car doors with a decisive beep. “We can’t just drop him off naked somewhere and drive away,” he said, his voice taking on its natural, organizing tenor. “The gap between us separating and him getting inside his apartment… it’s an exposure risk.Someone could see.”
He turned to Ken. “We drive you straight to your apartment.We shield you. Minimize the naked time.” It wasn’t a suggestion.A wave of gratitude, thick and disarming, washed through Ken’s chest. It briefly drowned out the anxiety and the soreness. “Thank you,” he said, the words feeling insufficient.“All of you. For… considering.”
“It’s what friends do,” Liam shrugged, as if it were simple.“Now, everybody in. Ken, you’re in the middle back.”
Ken pulled open the heavy door. The cool, conditioned air from inside washed over his skin. He slid across the smooth leather of the back seat, his bare thighs sticking faintly to the material. Jesse climbed in after him, then Sam on the other side, boxing him in.Cole took the front passenger seat, laptop already on his knees. Liam started the engine, the familiar digital dash lighting up.The car purved to life, a contained, mechanical world.
Liam reversed, then guided the car down the winding resort driveway.The ornate gateposts passed by the windows. They joined the main road, leaving the mountains and the cedar-scented silence behind.
The highway stretched ahead, a gray ribbon leading back to the city, back to tomorrow, back to the world of masters and protocols. Ken sat in his nakedness, held securely between his friends, the car carrying them all forward into the approaching skyline.
The city swallowed the car whole. The clean mountain air was replaced by the scent of exhaust and warm pavement. Ken watched familiar intersections blur past, each landmark pulling him deeper into the gravity well of his ordinary life. His nakedness in the backseat felt more incongruous with every block, a secret they were smuggling through midday traffic.
“You live in the Kita-ku complex, right?” Liam confirmed, eyes on the road.
“Third floor,” Ken said. His voice sounded thin, even to himself.
“Good. Underground parking.” Liam’s tone was all practicality. “Less exposure.”
Jesse nudged Ken’s shoulder with his own. “Don’t worry, man. In-and-out. We’ll form the naked-man shield.” He grinned, but the joke felt ritualistic, a familiar shape to hold a real tension.
The car dipped into the dim, concrete stillness of the parking garage. The tires echoed. Liam found a spot near the elevator bank, pulling in smoothly. The engine cut, leaving a sudden, heavy silence. For a moment, no one moved. The weekend was a sealed room behind them; the elevator doors ahead were the mouth of a new, demanding week.
“Right,” Liam said, unclipping his seatbelt. “On three. We box him in, walk fast. No eye contact with anyone. Ready?”
They piled out with a synchronized rustle. The air in the garage was cool and smelled of oil. Ken slid across the seat and stood on the concrete, the grit pressing into his bare soles. His friends immediately moved, a living perimeter. Liam was in front, Cole and Sam on either side, Jesse close behind. They walked in a tight, awkward cluster toward the elevator.
Ken’s heart hammered against his ribs. He focused on the back of Liam’s shirt. Every sense was heightened, waiting for a gasp, a shout, the click of a phone camera. He heard only their shuffled footsteps and the distant hum of a ventilation fan.
The elevator doors slid open mercifully empty. They crowded in. Ken faced the back wall, his friends a solid wall of fabric and heat at his back. The doors closed. No one spoke as the numbers lit up. Three. A soft ding.
The hallway was empty, blessedly silent. They moved quickly to his door, a nondescript slab of painted wood. Ken fumbled the key from the small hook by the doorframe, his fingers clumsy. The lock turned with a loud, metallic scrape.
They spilled into the dim apartment, a compact space smelling of dust and stillness. The door clicked shut, sealing them in. The immediate, palpable relief was a physical weight lifting from Ken’s shoulders. He leaned against the wall, breathing out a long, shaky sigh.
Liam scanned the quiet living area. “Okay. Clear.” He turned, slinging his bag back over his shoulder. “I’ll drive and drop each of you. See you tomorrow.”
Ken nodded, pushing off the wall. “Thanks. For the ride. For… everything.”
His friends gathered their things, a quiet efficiency in their movements. The easy camaraderie of the onsen garden was gone, replaced by the unspoken understanding of re-entry. They were leaving his space, returning to their own worlds, where the rules were different.
Ken watched them for a moment, then drew in a breath. The air in his own apartment felt new, charged with a duty he had to acknowledge. “From tomorrow,” he said, his voice finding a firmer, more formal register. “Ken will be ready for service to all masters.”
He moved to the center of the small room, the space he used for morning stretches. Without hesitation, he lowered himself to his knees on the polished floorboards. The posture was etched into his muscle memory now. He placed his hands behind his head, elbows wide, and spread his knees apart. His cock, which had softened during the tense transition, began to stiffen again, rising to full, obedient hardness against his stomach.
He looked up at the four of them, his friends, his masters, standing by the door. “I felt really happy,” Ken said, and he meant it, even as the words carried a darker, more complicated undertone. “That all four masters befriended me. Thank you for making the onsen trip a memorable trip.”
The group looked at him, their expressions unreadable in the dim light. They saw the brilliant former prodigy, naked and kneeling, perfectly positioned. The contradiction was absolute.
“The reality has returned,” Sam said quietly, adjusting the strap of his bag.
“Yeah,” Jesse added, his usual energy subdued. “Best of luck from tomorrow, Ken.”
Liam gave a final, curt nod. Cole offered a small, awkward wave. Then, as one, they turned. The apartment door opened, spilling in a slice of hallway light, and then closed with a soft, final click.
Ken was alone. The silence roared in his ears. He held the position for another full minute, listening to the retreating footsteps fade. Then, with a grunt of effort, he let his arms drop. He climbed to his feet, his knees aching. He didn’t look for clothes. He didn’t turn on a light.
He walked directly to his unmade bed and let himself fall forward onto it. The cool sheets kissed his heated skin. He lay there, face down, his hard cock pressing into the mattress. The soreness from the blank night throbbed dully inside him, a physical echo of the missing hours.
He turned his head, his voice a dry murmur swallowed by the fabric of his pillow. “I don’t know when Pete will be at the company.” The thought squirmed in his gut, a live wire of anxiety. He pictured the cheerful face, the red glasses, the familiar admiration now twisted into something else entirely. “I feel so nervous,” he whispered to the empty room, “to kneel down naked and call Pete ‘Master’.”