3Agon oozes violence like a predator: it fills the air that he breathes and covers each field that he steps on like a thick blanket of freezing snow. His gaze promises endless pain and, most of the time, contains nothing but pure contempt for the people –no, the trash around him but somehow, you get used to it. It was still something that Sena had trouble believing. Agon was rightfully terrifying, the type of person who makes him uneasy with their presence alone. Even after having been tormented by so many bullies during his childhood, no one had made him feel the same shock of terror that penetrated him like thunder the first time they met.
After their match, after his defeat, Agon had obviously deigned him good enough to change his status of trash to something more, but not an equal, never or at least not yet. He placed the boy who had grinded his face into mud above his own twin brother. He would show up around Deimon High: only briefly at first, a passing shadow with a giggling girl on each arm. Then, as the days went by, he stayed longer, got closer. His eyes were focused on Sena, sometimes straying on other players but always going back to the 21. Surprisingly, Hiruma didn't chase him away with a blaze of bullets and sharp words but looked at him with a knowing smirk which was answered by a sneer of disgust.
If you asked Sena how it all started, he would say it was the evening Agon dragged him away by the collar to the nearest park as he was walking home after practice. He sat straight and rigid on a wooden bench while the Naga player stared at him silently, the shine of the setting sun painting his skin golden. Even sore, sweaty and a bit scared, Sena could see the appeal, why so many girls succumbed to Agon's charm. He was tall and well muscled like many of the players he had faced before; his purple dreadlocks made him stand out even in the sea of extravagant hairstyles that was the world of American football. But the most important was the glint in his eyes, this raw animality that he hid behind sunglasses not to scare away his playthings.
Slowly, he started smiling, a smile full of teeth and manic glee. He stood up and walked up to Sena to ruffle his hair. Still holding onto the brown locks, he leaned forwards and whispered "You're fucking mine" in his ear before walking away, leaving behind a confused running back.
This changed everything.
Even now, after months of that strange relationship that seemed like dating but was so different and so profound and so much more, Sena never forgot this violence that was almost a part of Agon. There were moments when it was nearly unnoticeable, when Agon was almost sweet, with his arm wrapped so softly around his waist. There were also times where he would come pick him up after school angry and with bruised knuckles, stained with blood that was never his.
Sena feels it thrumming under the surface when he digs his fingers into the firm flesh of his thighs, in the way his teeth graze against the skin of his neck, how he pounds into him, each thrust making the bed frame hit the wall and how his hand rests possessively on his hip as they sleep.
Sena doesn't forget it but he doesn't fear it either, because the beast in your home will never attack you.