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The alcohol coursing through Black Jack’s veins made him feel fuzzy. Slow. His normally quick-thinking lurched to a slug’s pace, and his quips were either too late or not quips at all.

            “You’re drunk, Doctor Black Jack,” Kiriko—that bastard—said with a certain, smug air. Black Jack looked aside, away from the so-called doctor and at the exit of the smoky, dimly-lit bar.

            “I’m fine,” he grunted. His hazy, brown eyes scanned the room. It was nearly empty except for a few men and the barkeep.

            “You’re slurring,” Kiriko pointed out, a hint of a chuckle in his words.

            “Shut the fuck up. So’re you,” Black Jack spat. “What kinda bar is this, anyway?”

            “You tell me. You recommended it,” Kiriko replied, taking a slow sip from his drink and finishing it off. He beckoned the bartender.

            “No I fuckin’ didn’t,” Black Jack growled. Kiriko laughed quietly to himself as the barkeep filled his glass.

            “My, my—you certainly get testy when you’ve had enough liquor,” he teased. “Don’t you have a major operation tomorrow? You shouldn’t drink before that.”

            “You tellin’ me I’d make a goddamn mistake in an operation?” Black Jack snarled, turning to face Kiriko once more. “Even God can’t best me when it comes t’ saving lives. I’m perfect.”

            “You’re arrogant,” the other doctor sneered. “A true doctor would be humble in the face of death.”

            “A true doctor,” Black Jack hissed, leaning close, “wouldn’t kill his patients.” Kiriko narrowed his eye and smirked.

            “Above all do no harm, correct?” he said. “Is it really beneficial to let a patient suffer for prolonged periods? Is it really beneficial to disable them in the name of ‘cure?’” Black Jack felt his eye twitch.

            “Killing a patient is wrong.” His voice was rising. “S’long’s they have the will to live--!”

            “My patients lost that will long ago. You agree with me. You don’t treat suicidal patients.”

            “I don’t enable them, either!”

            “Enabling? Who’s enabling? I only treat patients who are genuinely suffering and wish to die.” Black Jack saw red.

            “Is ‘wishing to die’ not suicidal now, then?!” he demanded and stood, knocking over the bar stool. Kiriko eyed him thoughtfully without turning his head. He drank. Licked his lips. Set down his cup. Sighed.

            “We’ve had this discussion many times now, Doctor Black Jack,” he uttered. “Perhaps it’s time to take you home. You’re in no condition to drive.”

            “Shut up!” Black Jack yelled, briskly turning away. “I’m fine.” He raced outside and climbed into his car. After stumbling to get his keys, he started it up. The old engine roared as he pressed on the gas without shifting gears.

            “Doctor Black Jack!” Kiriko yelled, hurrying after him. Black Jack forced his car out of park, stepped on the gas, and promptly smashed backwards into a short wall. His head hit the steering wheel, and he blacked out.




The room smelled sterile and clean. Somewhat musky. Black Jack squinted his eyes at the fluorescent light above him. His head pounded, like his brain was trying to escape. Weakly, he reached up and touched his forehead. A bandage had been carefully applied, and there was an ice pack resting atop his head. He moaned.

            “So you’re awake.” Black Jack instantly sat up, despite his aching back and body.

            “Kiriko!” he yelled, and cringed. After slowly lying down, he glared and pointed at the fraud in the corner. “Just what are you doing?” Kiriko lit a cigarette and smoked it slowly.

            “You were drunk,” he replied. “You tried to drive, despite my warnings. You hit your head in a minor accident.”

            “What?” Black Jack was incredulous.

            “Your car’s fine—just a few dents on the back—and you’ll be fine, too. Naturally, I’ve called the hospital where your operation was and let them know that you needed to do it tomorrow, instead. I also called that child you live with—Pinoko? She wanted to see you, but I didn’t tell her where we are,” Kiriko explained.

            “Kiriko, you bastard—what did you do to me? Poison me?!” Black Jack demanded. Kiriko laughed loudly.

            “Haha! Black Jack, you should know—first and foremost, I am a doctor. I wouldn’t kill someone just because they irritate me to the point of insanity with their hubris,” he said with a broad grin. Black Jack felt his face heat up. He shoved the blankets off and attempted to stand.

            “I’m leaving,” he growled through his teeth. He took two steps, quickly grew dizzy, and fell to the bed again.

            “Be my guest if you want to leave,” Kiriko said and sauntered over with a bottle of pills. He across from him on the second bed and held out two small, white capsules. “Before you go, take these. For your headache.” Black Jack eyed them suspiciously, met Kiriko’s gaze, and slapped them out of his hand.

            “I hate you,” he said, pausing between each word. “And I don’t appreciate your help.” Kiriko smirked and capped the bottle.

            “Suit yourself. If the agony gets to be too much… do let me know.” He winked—or was it a normal blink?--and Black Jack instantly used all his strength to tackle him to the bed.

            “Kill me, will you?!” he yelled, holding Kiriko down by the shoulders. His hands made their way to his neck. Kiriko attempted to push him away, but Black Jack was strong with fury.

            “Get off, you fool!” Kiriko coughed.

            “I should just do it,” Black Jack murmured. “You’d never kill again. I should just destroy you and that little machine of yours!”

            “You won’t do it,” Kiriko said, grinning at him. “You’re a doctor, are you not? You’d be just as bad as me!” Black Jack’s heart raced. His blood boiled as it flooded throughout his entire body. He stared right into Kiriko’s eye—dead and soulless as it was, he could see a spark of loathing. Or maybe not—was it pity?

            Black Jack became enraged. He gripped Kiriko’s thin face with a hand and looked him over.

            “You’re true scum,” he muttered.

            “Yet you look at me with lust,” Kiriko replied. Black Jack narrowed his eyes.

            “You’re confusing rage and lust,” he snapped.

            “Then explain that.” Kiriko pointed to his crotch. Black Jack looked down. He hadn’t even noticed the protruding bulge in his pants. Then, he noticed: The same thing was happening to Kiriko, too.

            “You owe me an explanation as well, Kiriko,” he said with a smirk. “Do you get off on being thrown around?”

            “Do you get off on throwing people around?” Kiriko spat back. Black Jack idly moved his hands from Kiriko’s face to his shirt, and began unbuttoning it slowly. He bent over and began attacking Kiriko’s neck with his mouth. “Good God, Black Jack! What--?!”

            “Shut up,” Black Jack replied, and nipped his neck. Kiriko groaned a little at the light pain, and said nothing more. Scarred hands lazily unbuttoned Kiriko’s shirt, until they got impatient and ripped it open. The buttons scattered.

            “Asshole,” Kiriko growled. He panted a little and numbly reached for Black Jack’s crotch. Suddenly, he paused. “Black Jack, are we… going through with this?” he said uneasily.

            “As much as I hate you,” Black Jack said after a moment, “yes.” Kiriko smirked a little to himself as he unzipped Black Jack’s pants. His grin broadened when he saw that, yes, like the rest of his body, Black Jack’s cock was scarred. He eased off Black Jack’s pants and groped his ass. Kiriko’s cock painfully rubbed against his own pants.

            “Black Jack,” he muttered, trying to hide the desperation in his voice, “let me get these off.” The younger doctor got on his knees while still pinning Kiriko down to the bed and leaving bruises on his neck. While Kiriko took off his pants, Black Jack nipped and bit him. He gasped a little. “Did you draw blood just now?” he demanded, annoyed.

            “Yes,” Black Jack replied, and lapped it up. “What are you going to do about it?” Kiriko glared, rolled up his sleeve and quickly, without warning, shoved his middle finger into Black Jack’s ass. Black Jack growled and cringed at the intrusion. “Bastard,” he hissed. Kiriko smirked once again and stroked his insides.

            “Oh, shut up, Doctor Black Jack,” he chided. “You love this.” Black Jack’s arms shook and he started panting. Kiriko was tall and gangly; his fingers matched his body, and they had surprising reach. He deftly prodded Black Jack’s prostate, making Black Jack clench his fists and squeeze his eyes shut. Kiriko stroked Black Jack’s engorged cock casually. “So tell me,” he said, “do you have any sensation here?”

            “Why’s it matter?” Black Jack coughed.

            “It doesn’t. I’m just curious.” Black Jack looked away briefly and attempted to ignore Kiriko’s finger.

            “Dr. Honma was a fine doctor,” he managed. “But there are some things even he couldn’t do.”

            “Mmhm. So I take it you must relieve yourself… internally?” Kiriko continued.

            “So what?”

            “Do you really prefer men, or do you just like getting fucked senseless, like some sort of slut?” Black Jack grabbed one half of the neck of Kiriko’s shirt and yanked him up.

            “I could get off to murdering people,” he hissed. “I’m a sick fuck, yes, but I’m not that sick.”

            “I never called you sick,” Kiriko replied with a dull look. “You’re rather defensive about this.” Black Jack flushed and shoved him down. He reached back and gripped Kiriko’s cock tightly before positioning himself over it.

            “Shut up and make yourself useful,” he snarled.

            “Wait, wait!” Kiriko quickly cried.

            “What?!” Black Jack demanded.


            “Oh, shut up! I don’t need it!”

            “I’m not going to get scraped raw by your ass,” Kiriko growled, poking Black Jack in the chest roughly. He pushed Black Jack aside and rummaged through one of the drawers in the room. Black Jack lied back with his arms crossed impatiently, his crotch pulsating madly. Finally, Kiriko returned with a type of medical lubricant. As he tore the package open and covered his cock with it, Black Jack flipped over onto his hands and knees.

            “Hurry up!” he commanded.

            “You’re really in no position to tell me what to do,” Kiriko said, and rolled his eyes. He stuck a lube-covered finger into Black Jack while squeezing more of the lube around his entrance. “I don’t know why I even agreed to this. You’re irritating all-around,” he grumbled. Finally, he thrust into Black Jack, who grunted and gripped the sheets. “Let’s get this over with, why don’t we?” Kiriko hissed, his clutch on Black Jack’s hips tightening.

            “Harder, you worthless scum!” Black Jack yelled. “I can barely feel you! Are you some sort of child?!” Kiriko grimaced, but complied—if only to shut him up. He slammed Black Jack roughly, making him gasp and bite his lower lip. Each movement sent waves of thrill through Black Jack’s body. He grasped the bars of the bed, his arms still quivering. Finally, his upper-body collapsed under his own weight, and the right side of his face pressed firmly into the pillow on the bed. Kiriko continued his onslaught, making Black Jack pant heavily and raise his ass into the air slightly.

            “I never would’ve taken you for a complete bitch, Black Jack,” Kiriko breathed. “Just look at you.”

            “I. Don’t. Care,” Black Jack snarled with each pause between Kiriko’s thrusts. “Just fuck me, you bastard. You’re slacking off already! I let you in my ass and this is how you repay me?! What a scam!” Kiriko glared.

            “Oh, like your slutty ass is actually worth something, you whore!” he barked.

            “It’s worth more than your short, flaccid prick!” Kiriko’s eye twitched.

            “It’s apparently good enough for your hole!” he yelled.

            “Oh, please—I’m doing you a favor!” With that, Kiriko gripped Black Jack’s ass tightly and slammed in and out as quickly and roughly as he could. Black Jack groaned loudly and clutched the pillow, pulling it up to cover his face with it. He made little cries into the fabric and tried to ignore the pressure in his body building. “Oh please, oh please,” he whispered, but Kiriko couldn’t hear him. His cock and testicles burned, until finally, he came. His mind reeled and he curled up more, covering his head with his hands now. Numbly, he let himself lose control, and his whole body undulated with each wave of pleasure. After a few moments, it was over.

            Black Jack collapsed onto the bed and rolled over, causing Kiriko’s still-erect cock to slip out. He closed his eyes and sighed blissfully, while Kiriko glared furiously.

            “Are you kidding me?!” he demanded. Black Jack was sleeping now. Kirko cursed loudly, got up, and kicked the bed. He might’ve been a murderer, yes, but he was no rapist. He couldn’t finish up now. Begrudgingly, he sat in the bed across from Black Jack and finished off on his own. He stalked to the shower to clean up.

            By the time Kiriko finished, Black Jack had already taken a shower as well, and was dressed. He sat there, sipping a cup of tea and reading the paper. Kiriko pointed at him.

            “You’re a real bastard, Doctor Black Jack,” he announced. Black Jack raised a single eyebrow and glanced up at him.

            “I’m afraid I’m unaware of what you mean, Kiriko,” he replied.

            “Of course you are. Just get out,” Kiriko snarled. Black Jack chuckled, tossed the paper aside, and set his cup down. He briskly walked past Kiriko, and the old vet wondered how he could even stand without wincing after all that.

            “Thanks for the tea,” Black Jack said before waving and leaving. Kiriko grumbled obscenities under his breath and stood before the messy bed. While he gathered up the dirty sheets, a slip of paper fell onto the floor. He unfolded it.

            Tom’s, 2 weeks from now @ 7:00 P.M. Don’t be late.

            Kiriko crumpled the paper in his fist and ran to the window.

            “Black Jack!” he yelled. The genius surgeon stopped without turning his head. “You flatter yourself!”

            “So you’re giving up?” Black Jack replied with a smirk. “So soon?” Kiriko grimaced.

            “…I’ll see you,” he finally replied. “If only because I want to see your face when you lose.” Black Jack laughed loudly. He climbed into his car, unrolled the window, and poked his head out.

            “Good luck, then, Kiriko. You’ll need it,” he called, and drove off.