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Kinktober 2019

Chapter Text

  • Day 1: Necrophilia; Issay/Sakurai; By slobberingdemon
  • Day 2: Incest | Hate fucking/angry sex; Toll/Yuta; By bucktiick
  • Day 3: Oral sex | Public/semi-public sex | Fuck or die; Imai/Hide; By Yoshi
  • Day 4: Fucking Machine | Food play/feederism; Imai/Sakurai; By Nurse
  • Day 5: Anal | Tentacles; Sakurai; By bucktiick
  • Day 6: Tit Fucking | Pregnancy | Mpreg | Roleplay; Imai/Sakurai; By Nurse
  • Day 7: A/B/O | Biting | Heat cycle; Issay/Sakurai; By Yoshi
  • Day 8: Cross Dressing | Milking | Bukkake; Sakurai; By Yoshi
  • Day 9:
  • Day 10: Mirrors; Issay/Sakurai; By slobberingdemon and katabasis
  • Day 11: Asphyxiation | Solo/Masturbation | Power bottom | Age Play; Issay/Sakurai; By Yoshi
  • Day 12: Dacryphilia; Imai/Sakurai; By Nurse
  • Day 13: Fear | Costumes; Toll/Sakurai; By Yoshi
  • Day 14: Chikan/train grope; Yuta; By bucktiick
  • Day 15: 
  • Day 16: Glory Hole; Imai; By Nurse
  • Day 17: Somnophilia; Imai/Sakurai; By Yoshi
  • Day 18: 
  • Day 19: Hair pulling | Butler; Imai/Sakurai; By Yoshi
  • Day 20:
  • Day 21: Cock warming | Aggressive dominance | Monsters; Imai/Sakurai   Fishy AU; By Yoshi
  • Day 22:
  • Day 23: Degradation; Imai/someone else; By bucktiick
  • Day 24: 
  • Day 25: Cock and ball torture | Handjob | Immobilization; Issay/Sakurai; By Yoshi
  • Day 26: Rape/Noncon; Toll/Sakurai; By bucktiick
  • Day 27:
  • Day 28:
  • Day 29:
  • Day 30: Forniphilia (human furniture) | High School; Yuta/Hide; By Yoshi
  • Day 31: Wildcard; Imai/Sakurai; By Yoshi

Chapter Text

"I don't know why. His heart just stopped."

~~~

It's a dream, or maybe it isn't. After three nights in a row it no longer seems possible to tell.

A strange sound, like something small clattering to the floor, spinning for a moment and then going still. And then Atsushi is awake.

"Shh," Issay whispers against his lips, and his breath smells like flowers.

"How…?" he begins, but he's cut off by the searing intensity of a kiss.

"Atsushi…"

Atsushi can only moan in response to his name, and his thighs tremble as he feels a weight settle between them.

Issay is on top of him, pinning him down to the bed, and the familiar feeling of him wrenches at something inside of Atsushi so hard that he whimpers.

"Atsushi, look at me."

Squinting through the darkness, Atsushi is blinded by the moonlight glancing off of Issay's white kimono. The afterimage leaves him near-blinded, and he reaches for Issay's face with trembling fingers; hoping that touch might make up for his lack of vision.

At the same moment, he feels a hand on the bare skin of his inner thigh, and his eyes roll back in his head as he moans aloud.

Any will to try and understand what's happening to him is gone then, and he nearly melts beneath the cold touches; his hips arching upward as a hand slides around his hardening cock.

"Fuck," he gasps as the pad of a thumb circles over the throbbing tip, and suddenly he's coming prematurely; nearly winded by the orgasm that follows.

It feels shameful, but then Issay's lips are pressed against his own once more, familiar and sweet, and it's like reality is suddenly kicking in again. "How," he tries to get out, "I thought I'd lost you…"

Atsushi is left half sitting up in bed, alone; his face wet with tears and the insides of his thighs sticky with cum. After three days straight of grieving, he no longer has the energy to weep.

~~~

It's a dream, or maybe it isn't. After four nights in a row it no longer seems possible to tell.

A strange sound--only this time Atsushi knows that it's six coins--clattering to the floor and spinning for a moment before going still. And then Atsushi is awake.

"Shh," Issay whispers, cold breath followed by his familiar kiss. The scent of chrysanthemums.

This time Atsushi doesn't ask how. Instead he arches his back, fingers twisting in long curls as something slides beneath the blanket to urge fevered kisses to his inner thighs.

When it takes him into the wet heat of its mouth, and then into its body, his mouth hangs open in a soundless moan; for the first time, his eyes adjusting to the glare of the moonlight.

"Atsushi, look at me," Issay says, and Atsushi does.

Chapter Text

The member’s know better than to lie to him, so they give up Yutaka’s location easily. A love hotel further down the street they were on currently, a few doors down from the bar the band and their staff occupied. Toll was known for being quite protective of his younger brother anyway, so no one asked any questions when the drummer detached himself from the festivities and heading out of the bar to find his brother. It wasn’t hard to find the particular love hotel the member’s directed him to, it was the only one on within close walking distance. It would be the obvious choice for an inebriated Yutaka and his chosen partner that night.

Toll didn’t have to try too hard to get the information he needed. BUCK-TICK was Victor’s latest indie turned major success, and the band had played enough shows in the greater Tokyo area that anyone with that wasn’t living under a rock would recognize them. Thankfully, the young woman working the front desk happened to be a fan. A few empty promises of seeing her again, how it would be worth the trouble, and Toll had a key in his hand and a room number. He wasted no time on his way to accomplish the rest of his mission. The halls of the hotel are like that of any other, except the walls are so thin that the sounds of patrons enjoying themselves wanders into the hallway.

It’s not long until Toll has found the correct room and he unlocks it, leading into the small room registered in Yuta’s name. The door opens directly into the main space, with the bed being directly across the way from the door. Yuta is found exactly how Toll expected him too, barely any different from his stage clothing, only this time his pants were down around his thighs. The younger man was thrusting erratically into the woman lying down on the bed, who scrambled away from him when Toll entered.

“You-” Toll points directly at her as he makes his way into the room, picking up her disheveled clothing from the floor and throwing them onto the bed when he gets close enough, “Out.”

The poor woman makes quick work of herself, sprinting out of the room clutching her clothing to her chest, forsaking her modesty to leave. In that time Yuta has preserved his own, tucking his member back into his boxers and in the process of buckling his pants.

Toll turns once to assure the door is closed, before turning back to his brother, “How many fucking times do I have to tell you this?” Yuta’s eyes search for an answer, but Toll doesn’t even allow him to answer. The older man places a hand on the back of Yuta’s neck, using as much force as he can to push him down onto the bed. Yuta tries to fight him, so Toll has to maneuver himself in order to keep the younger man down. There’s only a few centimeters difference between them, but Yuta is drunk so it’s easier to subdue him. The drummer plants one knee in the middle of Yuta’s back and leans into it, which is finally enough to Yuta to settle down. His thrashing may have stopped, but the younger man still continues to speak, with his words becoming more erratic as Toll continues.

Toll fumbles for a few minutes with his own pants, trying to free his cock and pull down his pants enough without letting up on the pressure on Yuta’s back. Once he’s free, he does the same with Yuta. This time it’s hard, with his brother’s hips firmly planted against the mattress and Toll can’t see what he’s doing, but eventually he’s able to get it. Toll manages to shove the pants part way down Yuta’s thighs. His brother is resisting him so much it isn’t going to get any better than that, so Toll just leaves it like that. There’s another difficult maneuver, where Toll plants both of his hands firmly on Yuta’s shoulders before moving so their hips are aligned and Toll is on top of him. He adjusts again, this time wrapping his left arm around Yuta’s throat. He uses his free hand to line up his cock with his brother’s hole, before pushing forward. There’s resistance- of course, but so much to the point it’s just Yuta’s body trying to push him out, but he continues anyway.

For the first few inches of Toll’s length, Yuta, naturally, thrashed and tried to get away from him, but his moves are sloppy and uncoordinated that he can’t do much else except bring more pain on himself. Toll covers his mouth at one point, when his screaming becomes too much to bear. Toll grants Yuta a few minutes to adjust, though Toll doesn’t think he ever will be able to comfortably take him unprepared like this.

Toll does nothing for a few moments, just watching as tears fall down Yuta’s cheeks, as his face becomes increasingly red with strain. His arms flail uselessly at his sides, knowing nothing will ever get Toll off of him. The room is mostly silent aside from Yuta’s muffled cries, which remind Toll of things he’s said to the younger man before.

“Aren’t you glad it’s your brother doing this to you, though? Rather than some disgusting old man at a record company, using your dreams against you.” Toll keeps his hand firmly planted against Yuta’s mouth, but spreads his knees a little further to give him more leverage when he begins to move. It’s difficult, but he manages. It makes Yuta cry harder, but Toll doesn’t bother and just speaks over his whines, “Imagine that? Some man taking you in a boardroom, muffling your cries as the workers outside go about their day. Ah, no. That wouldn’t be you. You’d rather fuck any broad that looks your way. Get buried between her legs, not knowing she only wants you for the bragging rights. That is, until you’re stuck with the announcement that she’s having your baby. All because you can’t control yourself, all because you don’t know how to listen to the one man in this trashy industry looking out for you.” Toll doesn’t cum, he just pulls out and away from Yuta. His brother doesn't move from his spot, just resting his head on the duvet and crying still. It's a sight Toll can't bare to witness, so he tuck his cock back into his boxers and fixes his appearance. There's not much to fix, especially in comparison to Yuta. Part of Toll wants to help the younger man, but he won't learn if Toll continues to hold his hand through everything. The drummer leaves without a word, back to the bar the other members were at, walking with a confidence as if nothing had happened.

Chapter Text

“Suck,” Imai ordered.

“You do realise that I’m not Acchan-”

“I said, suck,” Imai repeated, pressing the corkscrew into the kneeling Hide’s neck.

Hide swallowed and glanced at Imai’s probably drug-fueled erection in front of his face. Was there any way he could get out of this? Yuta and Toll left about an hour ago, before Imai took anything. They definitely won’t be coming back now. Atsushi had disappeared to the bathroom, supposedly. He did leave just a mere moment ago, but if he could come back now, right now, it would be perfect-

Hide felt the sharp tip of the corkscrew press harder into his neck and he swore internally. As Imai pressed the tip of his erection against Hide’s lips, he grimaced. Good god, he should’ve left with the Higuchi brothers just now. Or maybe someone would come by soon. They were technically in a secluded corner but this was still a club. Someone, like a waiter or something, was bound to-

Imai jabbed harder, making Hide open his mouth in shock but the moment he did, Imai shoved his cock into Hide’s mouth without a shred of hesitation. Hide choked. He wasn’t surprised that he would choke but that didn’t change how terrible he felt now that he was coughing and struggling to breathe while his mouth was being fucked by Imai with abandon.

In addition to that, Hide could feel Imai’s firm grip on his hair, tugging painfully as he held Hide’s head in place while he thrust. Hide’s eyes had teared up from the coughing, the hair tugging, and the chagrin of his situation. He could barely see but that was probably for the better.

It felt like an eternity that Hide was stuck there with a corkscrew in his neck, feeling Imai’s dick stab into the back of his throat repeatedly until he worked himself to an orgasm. Hide couldn’t say how relieved he was when Imai pulled his head away and took his erection out. But that relief was soon extinguished at the moment when Imai came onto Hide’s face. He should’ve expected that. Not that he knew what Imai’s sexual habits were but rumours about him and Atsushi had been going around.

The moment Imai loosened his grip, Hide stood up and darted away, creating as much distance between him and Imai as he could in this small booth. As he groped around for tissues on the table, he suddenly heard Atsushi yell, “Imai, what the fuck!?”

Hide could hardly believe his luck. Now he comes back?

“I’m so sorry,” Atsushi apologised as he pushed serviettes into Hide’s hand. “I should’ve taken him straight home instead of going to the bathroom first.”

Hide unfolded a serviette with a flick of his wrist and refolded it before finally wiping his face. “I’m the one who needs the bathroom now,” he muttered. He might need more alcohol to wash the memory away too.

“If you’re going,” Atsushi said as he stared at a now dazed Imai who was still clutching the corkscrew in his hand, “you wanna use him first?”

“What?”

“You could fuck him,” Atsushi suggested. “As payback.”

“Nooo, no,” Hide shook his head and waved his hands, “no, no, no. I’ll leave that to you.”

“You sure?” Atsushi asked. “He won’t remember a thing anyway.”

“What?” Hide blurted, incredulous. Was he going to be the only one burdened with this memory? Folding his arms, he closed his eyes and frowned. He was really going to need a hell lot of alcohol tonight. Shaking his head, he sighed heavily and said, “Yeah, I’d… rather find myself a woman.”

Hide half-expected Atsushi to insist, but thankfully, he didn’t. “Suit yourself,” Atsushi shrugged.  “You go have fun,” he added, clapping Hide on his shoulder as he passed. “I’ll take this idiot home.”

“Thanks,” Hide muttered. He hoped he could.

“And, sorry, again,” Atsushi repeated, looking truly apologetic. “I’ll remember to never leave him alone with anyone again when he’s… like that.”

“I’ll hold you to your word,” Hide said, giving a half-smile before leaving Atsushi to drag Imai home.

Why the hell did he agree to join this band?

Chapter Text

Atsushi whimpered as he sat stark naked at the small dinette set in the hotel room. Arms bound behind his back and ankles tied down to the legs of the chair he straddled as he sat on what looked like a saddle shaped cushion in between him and the seat.

He watched as across the table Imai stood, unpacking a large restaurant to-go order onto the table. Paying Atsushi no mind, Imai hummed to himself as he carefully set the table, arranging the spread artfully as if he was getting ready for a grand dinner party.

"Oh come on now piggy," Imai chided, never looking up at Atsushi, "Already begging for more of your favorite food? As if you haven't conned us into eating nearly every day on that vacation?"

"N-no! That's not…" Atsushi trailed off as Imai's impassive gaze focused on him. The game had started and the wrong words would only stand to make Imai's punishment of his previous behavior increase. "... Surely that's too much for the both of us to eat?" The grin he received in response sent a slight shiver down his spine.

"Why my dear dear piggy, this is all for you," Imai cooed, gently stroking the hair on top of Atsushi's head, "What's wrong? I thought you'd be happy. Oh, I know!" He walked away from the table and off into the rest of the room, which Atsushi was sitting with his back towards.

After loudly digging around, Imai called out still out of Atsushi's view. "Ah, here we go!"

Atsushi gasped in surprise as he felt movement inside him. The saddle he had been tied up to had a dildo attached that was currently pulling out of its resting place inside of Atsushi's ass before pushing itself back in, slowly and continuously.

"I never turned on the rest of your present," Imai leered into Atsushi's ear as he walked back to the table. "Aren't I so thoughtful to make sure you get stuffed in all your favorite ways today?"

Casually taking the seat next to Atsushi, Imai began to butter up a mini loaf of cornbread before breaking off a piece to offer the man being fucked via the remote control in his other hand.

Slow and steady, Imai fed Atsushi one bite after another, working him through each part of the menu from breakfast to dessert.

First were the pancakes, which Imai had liberally buttered poured so much syrup over that the sticky sauce seeped out from Atsushi's lips and down his chin, allowing crumbs of flakey buttermilk biscuits and chicken fried steak to hang on for dear life. This was not unlike Atsushi himself, who strained and arched his back, desperately trying to pull away from the dildo that Imai had been turning up bit by bit to pound harder and harder into his asshole.

Imai set his hand down on Atsushi's shoulder, firmly pushing him back down onto the seat as he brought a glass up to Atsushi's lips with his other hand for him to drink. Atsushi opened his mouth with a moan and tried not to choke on the cool water that flowed in his mouth and down around his head and as Imai tilted it onto him entirely before wiping his face with a towel.

"What a filthy piggy you are," Imai teased as he began to scoop up mashed potatoes to spoon into him next, "You're even making a mess down there."

Atsushi groaned as his mouth was suddenly stuffed by the long since grown cold potato mush. He didn't need to look to know what Imai was referring to. He could feel it, his own dick, rock hard and bouncing from the motion of the machine underneath him, begging for release.

"Imai, please," Atsushi was muffled against the mashed potatoes still in his mouth, "I can't anymore please!"

Imai tutted before shoving a spoonful of greens into his mouth, "No talking with your mouth full piggy!"

Atsushi shuddered and shut his eyes as he choked the mouthful down, tears rolling down as he felt the wad of stewed veggies push past the lump of emotions in his chest.

"No more! I… I'm sorry I'll never make anyone go to Cracker Barrel ever again!" Atsushi let out a long cry as he was forced to buck faster in the chair.

Feeling fingers ghost across his cheek, Atsushi opened his tear-filled eyes to Imai's concerned face in front of his.

"Pigg- Acchan, I don't want that. You love that place so much I wouldn't take it away from you… I just wanted you to feel as sick of it as we all did this trip."

Turning off the machine, Imai kissed Atsushi's forehead before sinking to his knees.

"You were just…" Imai nuzzled one of Atsushi's thighs, "Such a pain in my ass and I wanted to pay you back." Bringing his face closer to Atsushi's crotch he let out a sigh. "I guess I went too far, let me apologize."

Atsushi gasped as Imai descended onto him, lavishing his cock with slow licks from base to tip, one after another until he took him completely into his mouth. Imai sucked ferverously feeling Atsushi rock into him until he came.

Imai held Atsushi in his mouth as he let his spit mix with the cum before pulling off and up against Atsushi's lips, parting them open with his own, tongues pushing together as he made Atsushi taste and swallow his own orgasm. Imai then wrapped his arms around the man, resting his head in the crook of his neck as he undid the arm restraints. Feeling Atsushi hug him back, Imai smiled.

Chapter Text

The amount of time Atsushi’s been asked about the benefits of being famous, a ‘celebrity’ as they say, over the years seems to rival the amount of times his younger self was asked out his hair. Normally, he gives philosophical answers, things that don’t make him seem like a self centered asshole whose notoriety has gone to his head. Things that make the fangirls coo at his intellect for. But really, the real benefits are the capitalistic one. How he has amassed wealth over the years that is thanks to none other than the generous terms of his contract with him company. Even when they’re on break, all the members earn passive income from their fans buying their merchandise. Their fan’s love is what allows Atsushi to indulge himself in sex toys made overseas.

He should feel naughty about spending this money on such… materials, but younger bandmen freely include their collection of Tenso products in their SNS updates, so can’t he treat himself to something privately? And wouldn’t fans feel good contributing to his pleasure? They’re already interested in who he fucked and when in the past, so it’s not much different is it?

These question’s pester him as he fills in his order information on the website, selected the fastest possible shipping option from America to Japan. There’s a certain amount of sexuality to this- all of the toys are handmade, so somewhere in america, wherever these things are manufactured- someone is making a dildo for a Japanese rockstar to indulge in his fantasies. How the delivery man won’t even know about what he’s delivering.. How only Atsushi knows what is contained within his naughty little box. That night, after ordering, he jacks off to this thought. So many people oblivious to his indulgences.

Between placing his order, getting the actual shipping notification, and finally the phone call from the Japanese delivery company to confirm his address. The waiting game between the phone call made Atsushi almost anxious. He even specifically tailored his day around waiting for the delivery. Time passed slowly as he waited for the ring of his doorbell.

When it passed 4pm, that is when Atsushi became increasingly worried. The representative assured him that delivered today, yet it’s still not here. He rang the support line of the delivery company, inquiring about his package. What the kind woman on the other side of the line told him made his heart drop.

“Sakurai-san, your delivery was completed.” It was possibly the fourth worse thing Atsushi had heard in his lifetime. He asked her to repeat the address again, and it gave him a bit of relief. It had only been delivered to his next door neighbor, a kind man that was only a little older than Atsushi himself. He closed out the call as normally as he could, before leaving his own home to request for his package from his neighbor. They had crossed paths a few times in the duration of their residencies, but they were nowhere near friends. Hopefully, this meant the man reserved enough respect for him to not open it.

Thankfully, the interaction was swift and his package remained unopened. His neighbor remarked on the heft of it, and it was an understatement when it was finally in Atsushi’s arms. It felt like a cinder block in a box. His neighbor wished him a nice evening and the vocalist hurried back to his own space.

Once back, he wasted no time unwrapping his package and setting to washing them thoroughly. As his hands slid over each and every inch of his new toys, his dick twitched in his pants. The largest was a soft silicon tentacle, suction cups and all. The way the tentacle curved, Atsushi couldn’t wait to try it out. The other two were slightly different variations on the tentacle, one more bulbous at the base, but the first toy was still on Atsushi’s mind. It was so big, and it was everything he had ever wanted.

After the first wash, Atsushi had to wait a few hours until they were dry completely, but it didn’t bother him. If anything, it was much like any countdown.

When the toy was finally dry, he wasted no time stripping himself of his clothes and preparing himself a bit with his fingers. There was a suction cup on the base of the dildo, so Atsushi took the opportunity to utilize it as such. He planted the cup down in front of his mirror in his bedroom, and began coating it in lube. It just served to turn him on more, working the product into every suction cup and crevice. When he positioned himself on his knees, beginning to work the object into his ass, the same thoughts from before appeared in his mind once again.

How his fans money went to something so profane and disgusting as this. How the object he was working into himself was handmade, it was a labor that took many days. How his innocent neighbor knew nothing of his debauchery. How his fans, whose love paid for this, knew nothing about how their beloved Acchan liked to fuck himself on tentacles. How even his own band members knew nothing of his secret, his expensive little secret that their career paid for.

Those thoughts ran through his head over and over again, as he rode the silicon toy. It contoured so perfectly to his body that ever drag of his body has the toy hitting his prostate just right. The thickness of it was perfect as well, with the stretch of every new inch only furthering Atsushi’s pleasure, pain pushed so far out of his mind he barely felt it.

The humiliating thoughts circling through his head about what a gross pervert he was for this, as well as the sensations of the toy itself brought Atsushi to an orgasm so fast he almost felt ashamed for it. When he opened his eyes to the mirror again, he was greeted with the image of himself. The image of his own orgasm strewn across the mirror and his reflection, his weeping cock still standing at attention, and the silicon toy so perfectly visible between his legs.

If only there was someone else to see it.

Chapter Text

Imai frowned as he opened the mailbox in front of his house. On top of the supermarket circulars, bills, and other envelopes was an unpostmarked red envelope with the kanji for Imai's first name in a telltale curly script.

Picking it up, he carefully tore it open on the side and slid the contents out. A hotel room card with a Fish Tanker's Only sticky note attached to it.

 

Friday, 10:00 PM

Room 683

 

Imai put the card back into the envelope before putting that into his back pocket. He then picked up the rest of the mail and walked back inside his home.


 

Friday night eventually rolled along, and Sakurai found himself feeling anxious as he looked at the clock radio on the bedside table in the hotel.

 

[11:30]

 

Sakurai pulled the black satin robe around himself tighter and left out a dejected sigh. He knew Imai wasn’t the most punctual, but still he felt the tendrils of anxiety wrap around his subconscious, spreading worrying thoughts.

“Maybe he’s busy recording with Maki still,” he thought, “or… maybe I’ve been blown off completely.”

Thankfully, before his thoughts could turn too dark, relief came in the form of hearing the door unlock and slowly open. Before he could see who it was, he could hear the familiar voice.

 

“Acchan? Hey, I hope you’re not too mad. I’m only late because some of those stupid foreigners in the Go Kart caused a traffic ja-- Holy shit.”

 

“Hello Hisashi,” Atsushi purred as Imai fumbled to lock the door behind him, "I was starting to get a little worried, but I'm sure you'll make that up to me tonight."

 

The dumbfounded look on Imai's face served to answer the main question in Sakurai's mind all day.

 

Will he notice?

 

Imai staggered forward to where Sakurai had been seated at the foot of the hotel bed, eyes all over the man before him, taking in every inch.

His makeup, immaculate in it's placement. Carefully lined red lips, an expert smoky eye, and long, thick mascaraed lashes highlighted the femininity in his features. Cupping that face in his hands, Imai stared in awe before sliding his hands down Sakurai's neck to his shoulders, stopping as he came to his robe.

 

"S-soosh," Imai stuttered, "H...how? How did you…"

 

"Remember your little 'party treats' from our anniversary? Turns out I never threw them out," he smiled, placing his own hands on top of Imai's as he used them to push the robe down his shoulders.

Sakurai looked up and chuckled at the man standing in front of him.

"So, how do I look?"

 

Imai gulped as he took in Sakurai slowly exposing himself for him. Under the silk robe had been Sakurai's usual surprise lingerie outfits, but the body it was on was different, thanks in part to the infamous party treats.

The drugs they'd taken the night of the band's anniversary a few years back had given them both the impression that Imai's body was that of a woman's, but here he was, clean and sober, staring at the cleavage from Sakurai ample breasts being pushed together by a lacy balconette bra. He sucked in a breath as Sakurai led his hands up to them, fingers brushing against barely contained nipples.

 

"Incredible."

 

Sakurai's hands left Imai's to grip onto his hips and pull him closer before he started to unbuckle and unzip Imai's pants. He felt Imai's thumbs rolling against his nipples as the rest of his hands began to knead, squeeze, and push his breasts together and he moaned softly at the sensation of familiar fingers on an unfamiliar body.

After pushing down Imai's trousers and briefs, Sakurai wrapped his legs around him and nuzzled into the growing erection before looking back up at Imai once more as he pressed his breasts against his dick, squeezing it between them as he moved them up and down.

 

"You know, it's been a while since we've been able to spend time alone," Sakurai said as Imai cradled his face again, "If we're not busy with the band then you're busy with your family, and now? You're running off again on some silly side project…"

 

"Acchan..." Imai struggled to steady his voice through the feeling of Sakurai jerking him off with his soft, warm breasts. How were they so big on him compared to when he had been…? Imai shook his head, realizing he was staring to let his mind wander.

 

"I've always known about your jealous streak, but are you really upset because I've been busy with a newborn baby?!"

 

Refusing to answer, Sakurai brought his face back down to his cleavage and started sucking on Imai's tip protruding from it. Imai let out a gasp and gripped into Sakurai's hair.

 

"God," Imai moaned incredulously, "Of all the… Shit!!" He pushed Sakurai's mouth away so he could have a complete thought, "What the hell is wrong with you? Are you really going to be like this about my daughter ?!”

 

Sakurai released Imai from his clutches and hugged himself as he looked away. His lips trembled as he replied.

"It's because I wish she was our daughter." He closed his eyes at his confession, expecting the worse and not wanting to see it, but instead of Imai walking out in disgust, he felt him kneel down and rest his arms across his lap. Sakurai turned back to see Imai rest his head on his lap next, eyes looking up to meet Sakurai's before raising his eyebrows, asking for Sakurai to continue.

"That night, the one where you were," Sakurai gestured at his voluptuous body, "I can't lie, I was pretty disappointed when we woke up and everything was back to normal," he brought a hand down to run through Imai's currently long hair, "And then a few years later, there you were with your little announcement, and it was all I could think about."

 

"Weren't you the one that told me I didn't have to worry about that at my age," Imai smiled. "Hmm?"

 

Imai stood back up to meet Sakurai's face with his own in a kiss, gently leaning Sakurai down into the bed as he climbed on top, straddling him. As he broke the kiss off, moving to nip Sakurai's earlobes and down his neck, Sakurai continued.

 

"Well, you see," he began, breath going shallow against Imai's ministrations, "I'd read about a woman having a child later in life." Sakurai chuckled, half from Imai tickling the crook of his neck, "It's so pathetic I'm sorry, OW!"

 

Sakurai slapped Imai in retaliation from being bitten on his shoulder, making the man snicker as he made his way down to bury his face in Sakurai's breasts this time.

 

Kneading them until Sakurai moaned, Imai scooted back up until he was able to sit up on top of him.

 

"Mm so what's this? We're going to make her a little brother or sister tonight?" Imai asked with a crooked grin as he looked down at Sakurai's flustered face. "Is that it?"

 

When Sakurai failed to respond, his lips trembling but with no words, Imai grabbed his hands by the wrists and brought them back to Sakurai's chest, signalling for Sakurai to continue tit fucking him again.

 

This time, Imai rocked into Sakurai's breasts, moaning in pleasure as he finally unbuttoned his shirt to get it off him. As he turned back to drop the shirt on the floor, Imai paused as he finally got a glimpse of Sakurai's bottom half.

 

"Holy shit," Imai said, almost inaudibly as he ran a hand up the thigh high stockings on Sakurai's incredibly soft thighs that met even softer full hips. Imai resisted the urge to just come on Sakurai right then and there, pulling himself away to lead Sakurai to scoot further up on the bed.

 

"Fuck." Imai settled in between Sakurai's legs drinking in the sight before him. Unlike when the roles had been reversed, Sakurai was far from shy. His eyes, heavy lidded with lust, kept a lock on Imai's as his glossy black-tipped manicured hands ghosted down the hills of his body before settling on either side of the crotch of his red satin panties.

 

"Imai, please," he said as he pulled the panties aside to expose himself, "I want to have your baby."

 

Licking his lips, Imai crouched down and pushed his nose into Sakurai's crotch, taking in the heady scent of arousal before probing in with his tongue.

 

Sakurai gasped, his finger hooked in his panties curling up more as his other hand tangled into Imai's hair. Imai noisily lapped away at his labia, revelling in tasting him in this condition.

"Oh you're so wet Acchan, look at you," Imai gently licked at Sakurai's clit before sucking it, "Look at this beautiful body begging me to put a baby in it."

Imai sat up, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand before pulling Sakurai's panties off.

"So beautiful," Imai moaned as he entered Sakurai with ease, "You'll be even more beautiful."

 

Sakurai threw his head back in pleasure as Imai started to fuck him, deep and slow, hips rolling together as Imai bent down to whisper in his ear.

 

"How am I going to keep my hands off you for nine months, with our child growing inside your beautiful round belly, I won't stand it Acchan." He punctuated with a hard suck at Sakurai's earlobe before moving to hook both of Sakurai's knees over one shoulder, pressing them together before pushing them down with the weight of his own body on top.

 

Feeling himself tighten around Imai, Sakurai let out a cry as he reached out to hug his legs, helping to give Imai access further inside of himself.

 

Imai pressed his arms against either side of Sakurai, thrusting in harder, deeper, faster, panting in time to Sakurai's rapturous cries.

 

"Oh Acchan," Imai shuddered as he came, "Acchan, I can feel your womb trying to suck me dry." Without pulling out, Imai moved so that Sakurai could drop his legs on either side of himself before dropping back down to meet Sakurai's lips in a soft kiss.

"Acchan, I love you."


 

Imai sat down in his favorite spot of the old leather sofa in the recording studio with a mug of freshly brewed coffee when he saw a familiar slim man in black enter.

"Acchan, how's it going, ready to get started?"

 

Sakurai smiled as he took a seat next to Imai, pulling out what seemed to be a greeting card from the inside of his jacket and handing it to Imai.

 

Imai felt his soul leave his body as he read the front of the card.

 

Congratulations, Daddy!

It's a BOY!

 

Imai jerked up as he felt hot coffee spill on his knee.

"Y-y-you can't be serious! But you, you, you, you… You changed back!"

 

"Hisashi," Sakurai pouted as he took the card back and opened it, "You sound so disappointed, but didn't you tell me back then that I'd be even more beautiful now? Anyway, don't you want to see him? I think he has his father's eyes."

 

Imai turned cold as Sakurai turned the inside of the card around to face him.

 

A photo of a small Scottish Fold kitten was taped inside.

 

“By the way, Daddy, I’m going to need 100,000 Yen to help cover his adoption fee.”

Chapter Text

Issay sucked a breath in, eyes wide in alarm as his heart beat faster. Really? Now? Why was it starting this early? Just as he was just having a pleasant time with Atsushi? This couldn’t be happening at a worse time. Trying not to draw attention to his discomfort, Issay slowly reached into his pocket and began breathing in deeply, hoping to keep it in control until- … His pills were not in his pocket. Where were they?

Issay’s heart beat faster as he searched his other pockets. Where were they? He always brought them with him in case of emergencies. There was no way he could’ve forgotten them. Unless… Could he have dropped them?

“Issay? Is everything alright?” Atsushi suddenly asked him in his usual polite manner. He was seemingly unaware of Issay’s predicament. Perhaps the smoke and smells of the barbequing meat masked it.

“I… need to go,” Issay muttered, abruptly standing up and wrapping his coat around himself.

Atsushi was visibly disappointed. “But weren’t we just-”

“I don’t feel too well,” Issay cut in, averting Atsushi’s eyes as he stepped away from their table. It made him feel terrible that he had to abandon Atsushi like this but without his pills…

“Wait! Atsushi called after him.

Issay cursed as he heard footsteps following behind, chasing after his brisk strides.

“Issay!” Atsushi caught his arm. “Issay, wait, please,” Atsushi pleaded. “What happened? Did I do something wrong? It’s not like you to suddenly-”

Issay watched as Atsushi’s expression change as he began to catch on. Away from the food tables, it was obvious now.

Atsushi’s eyes darted around, looking Issay up and down as he muttered, “You’re a…”

“Now you know,” Issay said thickly, pulling his arm out of Atsushi’s grasp as he backed away. “I need to go.”

“Let me send you home,” Atsushi blurted.

“No,” Issay declined, continuing on his way.

“But-”

“I’ll be fine on my own.” As he had always been.

“I said, I’ll send you home,” Atsushi repeated, his tone turning aggressive.

Issay turned and shot Atsushi a look, not that he needed to. Hands covering his mouth and eyes wide in shock, Atsushi was already appalled at himself.

Slowly dropping his hands, Atsushi stared at the floor as he muttered, “Please.”

Looking at Atsushi’s forlorn figure, Issay could not help but feel his heart soften for him. He pursed his lips and sighed. Atsushi had always been a weakness of his. This was probably a bad idea but…

“Control yourself,” Issay said to Atsushi, holding his elated gaze while fighting to keep his breathing level.

Atsushi nodded eagerly and darted forward, immediately putting his arm around Issay’s waist the moment he came close. Issay tried to nudge him away but Atsushi held fast, stubbornly sticking close as they left the restaurant and waited outside for a taxi. It was probably a good thing that he had Atsushi with him though. Issay was starting to feel the unwanted attention being directed at him. Atsushi was likely the only thing that deterred anyone from acting on it.

Eventually, one arrived and upon entering it, Issay felt even worse about this. With their proximity, he was sure that Atsushi could sense his body temperature rising and his condition worsening. Based on past experiences, he half-expected Atsushi to make his move any time now, but Atsushi stayed as stoic as could be, simply keeping an arm around Issay while possibly fighting his own urges as well.

Out of nowhere, Issay suddenly felt a surge and he unintentionally let out a soft grunt. He pulled his coat around him tighter, hoping that Atsushi didn’t notice it, but he should’ve known that it was impossible to miss that.

Issay felt his control slipping more as Atsushi enveloped him in his arms, pulling Issay closer to him as he asked breathily, “Are you okay?”

Issay focused so hard on holding himself together that he could barely speak, only managing a vague grunt as he gritted his teeth in a grimace. Atsushi was too close. His scent was everywhere. This was too much.

“Bear with it a little longer,” Atsushi whispered, his hot breath in Issay’s ear as he spoke. “We’re almost home…” he muttered as he nuzzled Issay. “Just a little longer…”

“Acchan!” Issay chided fiercely.

His tone seemed to work, snapping Atsushi back into diligent self-control as he pulled back slightly and muttered, “I’m sorry.”

It was still hard to breathe, but Issay felt slightly better now. He stuck a finger into his collar, tugging at it. It felt like it was choking him. He undid the first button, and the second, and the third before catching himself. But he wanted to take his coat off now. Issay could feel Atsushi’s grip growing tighter, preventing him from doing so. This was bad. 

Struggling to keep himself in limbo, Issay felt as if it took an eternity for the taxi to arrive at his apartment block. He was vaguely aware of Atsushi throwing cash at the driver before helping him out of the taxi. Did they run into the elevator? Issay couldn’t quite tell. Was he even capable of running in this state? He wasn’t sure. But what he did know was that all at once, he lost his grip on everything.

Atsushi’s lips were pressed against his, tasting so sweet as Atsushi pushed his tongue into Issay’s mouth. With his arms supporting Issay’s slim, slender frame, Atsushi pressed Issay’s body against his own. He instinctively ground their hips together, rubbing his throbbing erection against Issay’s and making him moan.

The elevator dinged, announcing their arrival at Issay’s floor but that did nothing to stop Atsushi’s advances. The next thing he knew, Issay found himself pinned against the wall by his door as Atsushi fumbled with unlocking it while nibbling on Issay’s ear. It only took Atsushi a mere moment, though, before he triumphantly swung the door open and barged in with Issay.

Feeling his back hit the floor, Issay had the vague notion of his shoes coming off and his shirt opening up more as Atsushi continued kissing him. Issay felt Atsushi’s hands on his body. The feeling of Atsushi touching his bare skin riled him up even more and he arched his back off the floor, letting out a loud, blissful sigh as Atsushi licked his body.

Atsushi began using his teeth and Issay found his hands in Atsushi’s hair, scratching his scalp and tugging every time Atsushi bit him. He didn’t know if Atsushi left any marks on him, but he couldn’t care less now, not with Atsushi teasing his nipples so roughly, licking, biting, pinching, and sucking until they were sore.

Issay soon felt Atsushi stripping his pants away, leaving him naked with the exception of his coat and shirt still stuck around his arms. The cooler air did nothing to soothe the stuffy heat that Issay felt, a heat that only grew worse when Atsushi gushed, “You’re so wet.”

It’s been a long time since Issay felt such an unbridled need to be fucked. He had held it together around Atsushi for so long, but now, in this state, he lifted his legs and held them against his body, offering himself to his beloved junior, someone who once respected him so much but probably no more.

Despite having agreed to control himself, Atsushi showed no hesitation with unzipping his pants and presenting his eager erection. Issay couldn’t blame him though, not when they’ve come this far.

As Atsushi eased himself in, Issay moaned and his own erection twitched. He was getting more excited than he had ever been and his body was showing it. Atsushi was clearly pleased by it, planting his face in Issay’s body to kiss and lick him more as he thrust.

Issay’s mind was in a haze. There was nothing more delightful than having his body loved while being fucked and Atsushi was doing both so well. He could barely contain himself, moaning without restraint as Atsushi caressed his body and stimulated his nipples again.

Issay could sense Atsushi moving to the crook of his neck, nuzzling and kissing the area as he quietly whispered Issay’s name. Issay called him back in response, digging his nails into Atsushi’s back as he hugged him tighter.

Out of nowhere, a blinding sensation suddenly shot through Issay. He couldn’t understand how or why, but what he initially registered as pain became a rapturous pleasure that left his mind blank. There was nothing but pleasure now. Nothing but pure, unadulterated pleasure, so thick that he was drowning in it.

Until he woke up.

Issay found himself in his bed, alone, on his side, and staring at a glass of water on the side table with a blister pack of his pills. He was naked. And he was weak and in pain. Reaching for the pills was difficult. Everything felt so sore but he eventually managed. Slowly sitting up, Issay plucked one of the pills out and put it in his mouth. Washing it down with the glass of water, he found that his shoulder felt particularly sore. His shoulder… His shoulder.

Fueled by panic, Issay rolled out of bed. He stumbled, almost falling on the way to his full-body standing mirror. He could barely look at himself. His once unmarked body was covered in bites. Worst of all was that one particular bite on his shoulder. Atsushi had bitten him so hard that he had evidently drawn blood and it was now bruising. Devastated, Issay slumped to the floor, back against the bed as he buried his head in his hands. He was ruined. He was utterly ruined and not a thing in this world could fix it.

“Issay?” Atsushi’s voice called softly.

Issay remained quiet. He thought that Atsushi had left after that whole… fiasco. But apparently not. Issay would very much rather be alone though. He would rather not have salt rubbed in his wounds, physical or emotional.

“Issay?” Atsushi called again, his voice growing louder as he ventured into the room.

Issay hoped that Atsushi would overlook him and leave, but Atsushi inevitably found him. Heavy footsteps thumped on the floor as Atsushi came to him and dropped to his knees.

“Issay?” Atsushi whispered. “Issay, I’m sorry. I’m so sorry,” he apologised, hands hovering over Issay, at a loss as to what to do. 

“I never wanted you to see me like this,” Issay muttered.

“I know I promised to control myself but… I’m sorry,” Atsushi went on, his voice dropping back down to a strained whisper after his rambling. “But I, I’m just…” Atsushi struggled with his words. “I’ve always… wished I could… that you were… I was just so happy last night when… I’m sorry. I’m sorry, Issay. Forgive me?”

Issay lifted his head slightly. What did Atsushi just say? He could hardly believe his ears. “You… you’re what?”

“I’m sorry.”

“Before that.”

“I was… happy when I… realised that you weren’t really an… alpha like me,” Atsushi mumbled, his voice growing smaller and smaller with each word.

Issay turned slowly to look at Atsushi, now utterly ashamed and unable to meet his eyes. “You can’t be serious,” he muttered.

“Please, believe me,” Atsushi implored, meeting Issay’s eyes as he came closer. “I’ve always liked you but I thought… we were incompatible so… I thought I was okay with how things were, but now,” he paused and smiled hopefully, “but now… if you’ll accept me…”

Issay turned to the mirror and stared at the bite on his shoulder again. This wasn’t what he expected. He didn’t know what to think.

Atsushi caught what Issay was looking at and turned away, full of guilt. “I understand if you can’t trust me after this,” he said softly, his voice wavering. “I understand if you don’t want to see me again.”

“No.” Issay didn’t want that. He turned to Atsushi and took in the open expression on his face marred by worry and fear. None of this was what he expected, but Atsushi had always been honest with him. Raising a hand, Issay caressed Atsushi’s cheek. He couldn’t tell if it was a good idea or not, but whatever he decided, things would undoubtedly never be the same again.

Atsushi gently put his hand over Issay’s, tentatively as if wary. Atsushi’s careful manner was comforting. Issay had always rejected propositions. He had no interest in such relations, but if it was Atsushi… Atsushi... 

Brushing Atsushi’s hair aside, Issay took a deep breath and said, “I'll accept you.”

Atsushi pounced towards him, but instead of the reckless affection he expected, Atsushi held Issay tenderly in his arms, kissing him softly despite the joy that he exuded so strongly. It was impossible for Issay to feel bad about the way Atsushi handled him with gentle consideration. It was comforting. And it was reassuring that despite all the bad decisions he may have made thus far, this was likely not one of them.

Chapter Text

Despite the long sleeves that covered his arms and the long skirt that reached past his knees, Atsushi felt exposed with his face all made up while standing in front of these faceless men. It was not to say that they were featureless. Rather, there were so many of them that they all looked the same. They all had the same look in their eyes. They were all here for one thing. Him.

He felt a hand combing through his long, silky locks, slowly going through them from his scalp to his hips. Caught by surprise, Atsushi could barely move despite the relatively gentle stroking, that is, until the hand bunched his hair up in its grip and tugged hard. With that force pulling him backwards, Atsushi lost his balance, falling back into the arms of whoever was behind him. Held fast against a body, Atsushi didn’t bother struggling. He knew what he was here for. It was inevitable.

“Lift your skirt,” a voice whispered into his ear. It sounded so familiar yet so foreign, so repulsive yet so comforting, and so absolutely compelling.

As he pulled the hem of his skirt higher and higher, up above his knees, and along his bare thighs, Atsushi could feel his once-soft dick, tucked inside the small pink and black lace panties adorned with a little bow for good measure, slowly growing harder the closer the hem came to his crotch. Grasping the bunched up fabric in his hands, he felt his heart racing as he held his skirt above his waist, showing his panties and aroused penis to the men.

Atsushi sensed the space around him shrink as the men came closer. He could feel their stares so intense that it felt as if their eyes were boring holes into his exposed skin. His sleeves slipped off his shoulders as firm hands pushed the fabric half-way down his upper arms. Pulling the collar lower, the person behind Atsushi revealed the matching pink bra that he wore. The padless cups did nothing to hide Atsushi’s erect nipples, poking against the sheer material as two pairs of thumbs and index fingers rolled them.

Atsushi let out a moan and the circle around him grew smaller again. He watched helplessly as one hand left his chest and slid down into his panties. As it brushed against his now-hard cock, Atsushi jerked his hips in anticipation of getting stroked but instead, the hand continued under him, deliberately squeezing his balls as a tease before going straight for his ass.

The hand wasted no time getting right to it. While a finger entered Atsushi, the fabric of the bra was pushed aside and to expose his nipples, perhaps to create an even more enticing sight for the men who slowly, but surely closed in on him.

As the finger moved in him, easing him looser, Atsushi whined and leaned back. Already his body wanted more. The embarrassment of being displayed like this only added to his arousal. He wanted more to be done to him.

“Patience,” the voice hissed in Atsushi’s ear, all at once quelling his eager demeanour.

So Atsushi waited for the second finger to enter him, and that was when the spikes of pleasure began. The fingers rammed in as deep as they could, making Atsushi yelp in surprise before he went on to let out delicious-sounding moans. Fingers curled in him, stroking his prostate with a steady rhythm that made his erection twitch.

The waves of pleasure that assaulted his body made Atsushi feel both warm and cold at the same time. Shivering and shuddering, felt as if he could melt away, like a candle turning into wet, warm wax. Atsushi looked down at himself. His hips were gyrating with the movements of the fingers, encouraging the stimulation as he watched a wet spot appear at the front of his panties.

Fixated on the spot, Atsushi was vaguely aware of being completely surrounded by the men, their dicks were out and they were all pointed in his direction, erect and ready for him to serve. Reaching his hands out, he grabbed one in each hand and all at once, he was overwhelmed.

Dicks were being rammed into his mouth and rubbed against his body, all eager for a turn at making contact as Atsushi tried his best to keep up. He opened his mouth as wide as he could, trying to fit as many of the salty-tasting phalluses as possible while having them cum all over his face at the same time. His make up was likely messed up now, as was his dress, but what did it matter. That was what he was here for.

There was a pause in activity and Atsushi looked down at himself. His panties were thoroughly wet now but he couldn’t tell how much of it was his own cum and how much of it was someone else’s. Gooey splatters of translucent-whitish cum were all over his body and clothes, some smeared where men were rubbing their tips against his body.

“Well, aren’t you filthy?” the voice remarked mockingly.

Atsushi nodded somewhat stunned, yet still wanting more.

“Shall we bathe you?” the voice asked.

Atsushi nodded again and all at once, he was surrounded once more by men stroking their erections, pointing at him as they came onto his body one after another. Closing his eyes, he laughed happily. He was filthy. Absolutely filthy. And he loved it. It was bliss. As long as he didn’t need to wake up from it.

“Hey, get up,” a gruff voice said, shaking Atsushi as he slowly opened his eyes. Imai’s emotionless face greeted him.

“Huh?” was all Atsushi managed.

“Get up, shoot’s done. We’re going home,” Imai said, walking off to pack up his things.

Atsushi sat up and looked around. He was in a dressing room. There was a long, black dress-like attire hanging in front of him. He stared at it for a moment and suddenly it came back to him. 

They were here to film their music video. He wore that outfit for it. After his part was done, Atsushi came back into the dressing room, and that was that.

Atsushi furrowed his brow. It looked like what he wore in the dream… The dream that… Just… What was it?

Chapter Text

WIP TO BE UPDATED SOON

Chapter Text

Tokyo 1991

Issay has a bag sparsely packed with the necessities of an overnight stay resting on the empty train seat beside him. His stomach is churning with a mixture of emotions. Guilt, happiness, longing, lust. He wants Atsushi so badly, so constantly. Some nights, it's all he can think about.

Looking down at his bag, he shifts it onto his lap and then reaches inside of it; just to feel the velvet fabric slide against his fingers. It had been the most impulsive and yet pre-meditated purchase. Something he'd fantasized about buying for months before finally caving to the urge. Atsushi deserves it, he reasons. Even if everything that they're about to do is objectively wrong. Even if it's exactly the kind of thing that he's sworn to himself he wouldn't do anymore.

I'm too grown up for this, is the mantra that repeats in his brain as he gets off at his stop, walks six blocks, turns in to the hotel. "Fuck, fuck," he hisses under his breath; a hand shaky with anticipation knocking against the door with the room number that he'd burned into his mind. And then he's urging into Atsushi's arms, and everything else is forgotten. "Atsushi," Issay gasps, spoken just to say it.

As soon as Atsushi sees him, he pulls him through the threshold and curves his arms around him, fingers splayed across his shoulders. “I didn’t think you’d come,” he murmurs, urging a kiss to the side of his jaw.

"Neither did I," Issay replies tersely, though any ill feelings seem to dissipate as they share another long and heated kiss. He can taste the alcohol on Atsushi's breath, and peering over his shoulder, he sees an already empty wine bottle on top of the dresser.

"You started without me?" He muses; finally pulling back from Atsushi's lips long enough to stroke his hair and face affectionately. "Fuck, I missed you." To be here, seeing and touching one another again... the joy that Issay feels is indescribable. Overpowering enough to keep him from wondering where Sayuri and Atsushi's son are right now. And if they know where Atsushi is.

“I missed you,” Atsushi echoes, sounding as though he’s in a trance now that Issay’s here in front of him. “I did,” he adds, an abashed-sounding admission as he glances back to the wine bottle Issay’s eyeing over his shoulder. “Nerves, and all of that... But I have a nicer bottle saved for you… thank you,” he murmurs, dropping his chin to the other man’s shoulder, “for coming here. For seeing me.”

It intrigues Issay that even after all this time, Atsushi still feels the need to calm his nerves before they see each other. He can't imagine what it is about himself that the younger man seemingly finds so intimidating, and whatever it is, he wishes he could stifle it. "You don't have to thank me; it wasn't a choice," Issay replies, his fingers tightening in the back of Atsushi's hair. "I couldn't have stayed away if I'd wanted to." All of the circumstances surrounding this meeting that had made Issay so uncomfortable to consider on the train--the hotel, the marriage, the cheating--seem inconsequential now that he's with Atsushi again. Everything just feels easy and good; like something has been realigned.

Grasping Atsushi by the shoulders, Issay pushes him back slightly to hold him at arm's length; dropping his formerly serious demeanor for a toothy smile. "I got you something."

Atsushi seems near-horrified at the mere mention of a gift, and Issay can't help but find it at least a little amusing. He stoops down to where his bag is sitting on the floor; rummaging inside it with one hand while the other fights to keep his long curls out of his face as he looks. "Here," he says at last; depositing a black square of fabric, kept neatly folded by a ribbon tied around its middle, into Atsushi's arms. "I kept the receipt, by the way," he smiles sheepishly. "Incase it doesn't fit."

Atsushi, still looking bewildered and somewhat hesitant, watches off to the side as Issay looks through his bag, then outstretches his hands obediently when the dark, tied bundle is deposited into them. "Issay..." he murmurs as he squints down at the folded fabric, long fingers carefully working the ribbon loose until it falls to the floor. Color begins to spread on his pallid face as soon as he unfolds it and sees what it is, and he looks from it to Issay with an overwhelmed expression. "I," he breathes, letting out a flustered laugh. "I remember this."

"I thought you might." Issay folds his arms across his chest and watches with a pleased expression as Atsushi smooths his fingers over the fabric. "You still like it, right? I really regretted not just buying it the day we first saw it. I've thought a lot about seeing you wear it." He knows well that Atsushi has certain thoughts and fantasies surrounding things like sexuality and gender identity that Issay himself has more than entertained. With Atsushi, however, there's a certain nervous reluctance, and it seems like all he might need is some encouragement.

Atsushi looks admiringly over the dress, almost covetous—even though he’s holding it in his hands, even though it had been purchased for him. “Of course I still like it, it’s beautiful... Have you? Really? I couldn’t have found a better person to wear it for.”

Issay's subdued smile spreads into a grin as he observes Atsushi's reaction; his eyes crinkling at the corners. He's thrilled that Atsushi seems to love the dress now just as much as he had originally, and that he's already suggesting wearing it. "Will you try it on now?" He urges, willing to push his luck because the thought of the black fabric clinging to Atsushi's body is too alluring to resist.

“Now?” Atsushi’s voice exudes quiet, undeniable surprise as he repeats the question, looking around at the lackluster hotel room and at his own reflection in the mirror above the bureau. “I... Yes,” Atsushi murmurs, turning to take a few steps towards the bed and draping the dress across it carefully. “Now,” he says a second time, like a reminder; slowly taking the hem of his shirt and pulling it up and over his head.

While Atsushi begins to undress--slowly, thoughtfully, like he's in some sort of meditative trance--Issay crosses the small hotel room to sit down in a chair. Though part of him wants to watch, he'd rather be surprised, and so he averts his gaze to trace the pattern of the carpet. "Let me know when I can look."

“Alright,” he says after a long moment, drawing the long fall of his hair away so he can finish zipping it up; averting his own gaze in the meantime.

Atsushi says "alright" and Issay looks up. "Ah..." he begins; momentarily speechless. It isn't like Atsushi looks like a different person or anything. The dress hasn't changed him in any fundamental way. Rather, the dress itself seems changed for being on him, and even with his usual shyness, Atsushi looks perfect in it. Like it belongs on him. Which they'd both known from the first time they'd seen it in the shop window. "How do you feel in it?"

“Ah, well,” Atsushi begins slowly, glancing down at himself before catching his reflection in the mirror, and a slow smile begins to appear on his features as he glances back at Issay.

Issay immediately recognizes the confidence belied by Atsushi's shy smile, and it makes him smile too. They stare at each other like that, in a state of mutual adoration, until Issay gets up from his chair for a closer look. "Come here, look more," he urges as he gently turns Atsushi to face the mirror in full. Issay watches both of their reflections in the glass; brushing Atsushi's hair back from his shoulder before pressing a kiss there instead. "You know you look beautiful, right?"

Atsushi takes one hesitant step forward before crossing over to meet Issay halfway; his head tilting to one side when Issay’s lips meet his neck, another smile passing over his features as he grants the other singer access. It falters as he finally looks up to their reflections though; eyes glancing briefly at his own before lingering on Issay’s. “I think... it does suit me. It looks... good,” he finishes, leaning back against the other man’s chest.

Issay snorts at Atsushi's lackluster response; knowing that it's just his self-consciousness dampening his enthusiasm. "It looks good," Issay agrees; placing his hands on Atsushi's hips and smoothing affectionately over the silken fabric. "It fits you perfectly. I was worried about that, but apparently there was no need." He speaks softly, continuing to trail kisses over the pale column of Atsushi's neck.

"I want to keep making you feel good." Issay suddenly releases his hold on Atsushi and drags the stand-up mirror over toward the hotel bed. "And I want you to see yourself while I do." Kneeling on the bed, Issay begins to remove his own clothes; first his leather jacket and then his tshirt; leaving his thin frame clad in nothing but black jeans and a belt. "Leave the dress on."

After a second's hesitation, Atsushi comes to join him on the bed with a quiet, "alright," his fingers curling in the comforter.

"Alright," Issay echoes, a faint smile playing at the corners of his mouth. He's used to this kind of tentative shyness from Atsushi, and knows that it's only a temporary state. But there are things that he can do to lessen the younger man's anxieties, and he does one of them, then; urging in for a tender kiss and running his fingers through Atsushi's long hair. "Atsushi..." he breathes against his ear; biting softly at his earlobe and then tracing it with his tongue. After another moment Issay shifts so that he's kneeling behind Atsushi on the bed; resuming his earlier task of running his hands over him and trailing kisses over his neck. From the way they're positioned, Atsushi has no choice but to look directly at himself in the mirror; Issay mostly obscured behind him.

Though to an outsider this whole display might seem lewd, to Issay there's something beautiful about making Atsushi confront his beauty. Slowly, he eases the hem of the dress up Atsushi's legs and over his thighs; just enough to reveal his arousal. Still kissing his neck, Issay closes his fist around Atsushi's cock and gives it a few languid strokes. Not typically the most vocal of people in bed, it's always suited Issay better to express his sexual intentions through actions rather than words, and now with Atsushi is no exception; a thousand things conveyed all at once when their eyes meet in the reflection of the glass.

Atsushi’s gaze loses focus almost immediately, but whether it’s from shyness or arousal it isn’t clear—likely both. He gasps in a soft hiss of breath when Issay slides his hand between his legs and curls his fingers around his cock, arching instinctively into the touch as his breaths quicken. When Atsushi finally allows his gaze to return to the mirror his eyes seek out Issay’s face at once, though it’s partially obscured by his hair and Atsushi’s own shoulder, and his brows crease in an almost pleading expression, a quiet murmur of Issay on his lips.

Issay sees his name on Atsushi's mouth and replies with a quiet 'Atsushi...' in response. That pleading expression on his face is so beautiful and so alluring; Issay can't take his eyes off of their reflections as he continues to stroke over Atsushi's cock; his thumb swiping over the head with each upward motion. It's too tempting not to press his own clothed arousal against the back of Atsushi's leg; though right now his hands are too full to do much more about it.

Seemingly sensing Issay's discomfort, Atsushi eventually starts to trail his hands down; smoothing over the soft silk of the dress before making their way lower, where the fabric gathers up around his thighs. His thumbs skim over Issay’s wrists, then he starts to touch his own skin; soft and warm, muscles taut from how he’s positioned on the bed, and his eyes flicker up to gauge his reaction when he rocks back against Issay's crotch.

"Ah," Issay gasps softly; his eyes lidded with pleasure as he feels Atsushi rubbing back against him. For a brief second he lets go of the hem of the dress so he can work open his belt and then the front of his jeans. Immediately, his cock springs free from the tight confines, and he presses it against the swell of Atsushi's ass. With some reluctance, Issay pulls away from Atsushi enough to reach out for his bag; dragging it up onto the bed and digging through it until he's finally able to find what he's looking for. Trying to ignore how painfully hard he is already, Issay uncaps the lubricant and spreads it over his fingers, returning to his place kneeling behind Atsushi and maneuvering his dress to the side. "Here," he hands the lubricant bottle to Atsushi with his other hand; figuring that he might want to use it on himself as well. "Spread your legs apart a little more, love," he urges gently. "That's good. Yes..." Issay wastes little time easing a finger into Atsushi's body, his opposite hand returning to grasp Atsushi's now lube-slick cock.

Spreading his legs accordingly, Atsushi reaches behind himself with one hand to grasp at Issay’s wrist; fingers grazing over it after taking the bottle in his other hand and coating himself as best he can. He moans softly when Issay’s hand snakes back between his legs, and he rocks forward shallowly into his fist before pushing back against the finger. “Issay, yes...”

Issay closes his eyes and buries his mouth in Atsushi's hair; crooking his finger and pushing it deeper inside. When it seems like Atsushi has adjusted--and is thoroughly distracted by the stroking over his cock--Issay adds a second finger. He can tell that Atsushi hasn't done this since the last time they were together by how tight he is, and he tries to take his time lovingly preparing him. "I missed you," he breathes, saying it though it's something they both know. Every part of him has craved Atsushi for every moment since they've been separated, and it's so difficult to stay in the moment now when the encroaching fear of parting is hanging over their heads. "I love you. I want you so bad." Finally retracting his fingers, Issay grabs the lubricant and slicks himself with it; wiping the excess over Atsushi's entrance before lining himself up to push inside. It isn't immediately yielding, and so he's as slow and gentle as possible; holding still once he's buried inside to the hilt.

Atsushi gasps, near-trembling in Issay's arms, and Issay can see it in the mirror when his eyes roll back. "Kazunari…" Atsushi says softly, barely a whisper, and Issay smiles.

"My love," he says in response; one hand still on Atsushi's cock and the other lovingly buried in his hair. He stays as close as possible as he begins to rock his hips; his motions limited by the kneeling position but no less meaningful for it. As he begins to establish something of a pace, stroking Atsushi in time with his thrusts, he can see Atsushi's breath fogging the mirror's glass as he pants.

Atsushi is weak with pleasure; his knees threatening to give out, though Issay somehow manages to hold him up; whispering in his ear, 'my Atsushi… Atsushi my love…' And Atsushi is shaking as he comes over Issay's fingers; their eyes locked in the mirror in a moment of mutual bliss.

Chapter Text

Issay sat up with a jolt, almost dropping his cigarette as he woke up to his doorbell ringing. Bringing his cigarette to his lips, he sucked in deep and looked at the time. Four in the morning. He frowned. There shouldn’t be anyone visiting him at this time of the night.

The doorbell rang again and Issay got off his couch. He seemed to have dozed off while drinking on his own but that drowsiness was gone now. Shuffling to the door, Issay ruffled his hair. Perhaps it was a good thing whoever it was decided to drop by. That might’ve just stopped him from starting a fire at home.

Shirtless and still in his black jeans, Issay opened the door and squinted his eyes against the fluorescent light from the corridor. There, standing in front of him, was Atsushi. The sight of him always gave Issay a jolt in his chest. Of course, he was happy to see Atsushi but seeing him with his long hair chopped short dropped a weight in his stomach. It wasn’t that he didn’t look good, heck, he could even say that Atsushi looked even better now, but the drastic change was… jarring, to say the least.

Oddly enough, Atsushi looked startled when Issay opened the door. He quickly looked away and started staring at the floor, as if embarrassed. He looked drunk. He smelt drunk too. Issay wasn’t particularly surprised by this though. This was Atsushi after all.

“I thought you’d be asleep,” Atsushi finally spoke, mumbling softly.

“I was… not,” Issay responded. Well, technically, he wasn’t intending to sleep just then, was he? “I was just drinking a bit- What are you doing here?” he blurted his pressing question halfway. 

“Um…” Atsushi stuck his hand into his hair but ended up jerking it around weirdly, as if he was expecting longer strands but finding none. Frustrated, he put his hand down and looked up at Issay. “Can you…” He shook his head and continued. “Will… Will you play with me?” he asked shakily, reinvoking their code phrase.

Issay’s eyes grew large at Atsushi’s utterance. Here? Now?! How drunk was Atsushi to think of this?

“I know I said I might not want to any more,” Atsushi went on. “But, at least, just once more, let me call you P-”

“Sh, sh, sh, sh!” Issay shushed as he hastily covered Atsushi’s mouth. He took a step outside his apartment and quickly looked left and right. Making sure all was quiet outside, Issay pulled Atsushi in and shut the door. He took a long drag from his cigarette. This was… troubling. There were too many reasons why they don’t do this at each other’s homes.

“Acchan…” Issay sighed. “Please, please pay a little more careful about your reputation. You’ve got as many tabloid reporters chasing after you as there are girls. You know what-”

Atsushi suddenly hugged Issay, cutting him off as he whispered, “Papa.”

Caught by surprise again, Issay stiffened for a moment before putting a hesitant arm around Atsushi. This was all too sudden for Issay. He wasn’t mentally prepared for a visit, much less a session. He sighed again, “Acchan, could you… give me a moment?”

Atsushi immediately started unlatching himself from Issay, albeit reluctantly and with a hurt look in his eye.

“Just a moment,” Issay reiterated, holding Atsushi’s face while Atsushi held his hands. “Give me a moment to tidy up and prepare a little, alright?” he said softly, tenderly. The last thing he wanted to do was hurt Atsushi’s feelings.

Atsushi’s eyes darted down as he nodded, slowly sliding his hands down as he sat down hunched at the entryway.

“Can you take your shoes off by yourself?” Issay asked. He wasn’t sure how drunk Atsushi was.

Atsushi nodded again and he started tugging at one of his boots until it slipped off.

Convinced, Issay gave Atsushi a peck on his cheek and said, “Come join me inside when you’re done, hm?”

Atsushi’s expression became a little less severe as he nodded once more before Issay finally left his side. Issay wasn’t joking about needing to tidy up though. He still had empty packaging of eaten snacks and scattered cigarette ashes in the living room. But that could wait. He needed to figure out how he was going to satisfy Atsushi now.

Once he stubbed his cigarette out in the ashtray, Issay proceeded to open a low, inconspicuous drawer in a nearby cupboard. That was where he kept his stash. He took out lube, condoms… and stared at the rest. He ran a hand through his hair and sighed. What to pick?

Soft footsteps approached as Atsushi called, "Papa?"

Issay found himself scrunching his face up for a split second in response. He still hasn't really gotten into it yet. "Here," he called. He could sense Atsushi settling down by him and peering over his shoulder. Since Issay couldn't decide… "Pick one."

"All."

"No. Only one, my boy," Issay replied without a second thought, surprising himself. Well, that came out naturally.

"But I want everything," Atsushi whined almost making Issay break character. Sober Atsushi would be appalled at himself.

"Choose only one," Issay repeated firmly. "Or else, Papa won't play with you at all."

Atsushi whined again before going silent. After a moment, he grabbed a ribbed dildo out of the drawer.

Issay looked at Atsushi clutching the silicon phallus in his hands. “Is that what you want?”

Issay could see Atsushi thinking as his eyes darted from the one he held to the drawer and back again. Finally, Atsushi nodded.

“You sure?”

Atsushi nodded again.

“Hm.” Issay shut the drawer and took the dildo from Atsushi. Without saying a word, he took Atsushi by his hand and led him into the bedroom. Once inside, Issay smooshed the suction cup at the base of the dildo onto the parquet floor and put the lube next to it. Facing Atsushi, he began undoing Atsushi’s pants as he said, “Papa still has the cleaning up to do, so why don’t you playing by yourself first?”

Atsushi immediately pouted and started whining.

“Be a good boy now, Acchan,” Issay said, ruffling Atsushi’s short hair. “Be a good boy and wait until Papa comes back. When I do, show me how well you play with yourself and maybe Papa will reward you, hm?”

The whining subsided but the pout remained. Atsushi looked at Issay with his large, sorrowful eyes, as if hoping to change Issay’s mind. Issay simply smiled and squatted down, helping Atsushi out of his pants. As he stood up again, he slid his hand along Atsushi’s leg, deliberately brushing across his crotch before snaking around his waist and pulling him closer.

Looking into Atsushi’s eyes, Issay asked, “Will you do whatever I say?”

“Yes, Papa,” Atsushi answered without hesitation.

“Will you be a good boy?”

“Yes, Papa.”

“Will you disappoint me?”

“No, Papa.”

“Now, play with yourself,” Issay commanded, stepping aside to leave. “Play with yourself and be patient.”

“Yes, Papa,” Atsushi responded, reluctance in his voice as he turned to watch Issay go.

“Make sure Papa can hear you,” Issay smiled at him before finally leaving the room.

Issay left the bedroom door wide open as he went to the living room and lit another cigarette for himself. Sitting on the sofa in the silence, Issay could hear the soft rustle of clothing as Atsushi undressed, probably fully removing all his clothes before dispensing lube. As he smoked, soft gasps came from Atsushi and as squelches became audible, the gasps grew louder, eventually turning into a mix of sighs and moans.

Satisfied that Atsushi was fully into it, Issay bit his cigarette and started clearing up the wrappers and ashes. With Atsushi’s erotic noises in the background, Issay took his time doing so, cleaning the space until it was unusually tidy. Now only an ashtray, his wine glass and an open bottle of wine sat on the coffee table.

Pouring himself a glass, Issay could feel fatigue nagging at him to go to sleep, but it would be a while more until then. Not that he minded it. He rarely ever got to spend time with Atsushi and whatever time they had together, he was going to make the most of it.

Upon reaching the unsavoury end of his cigarette, Issay stubbed it out. He intended to sit down and slowly sip his wine, but just then, Atsushi cried out, “Papa!”

That was his cue.

Issay downed the rest of the wine in his glass and immediately went back into his room. There, was Atsushi kneeling on the floor, buck naked and gyrating his hips as he moaned and whined. Issay approached and put a hand on the top of Atsushi’s head, prompting him to look up at Issay with a slack jaw and half-lidded eyes.

With his hands on his chest, Atsushi mumbled between heavy breaths, “Papa…”

“Yes, my boy?” Issay asked, stroking Atsushi’s hair.

“Is Acchan a good boy?” Atsushi asked, his large eyes craving for praise as he pinched a nipple and bit his lower lip.

“Are you having fun, my boy?”

Atsushi nodded quickly and then added, “But Acchan wants Papa-”

“You’re not having nearly enough then.”

“No!” Atsushi shook his head.

“Not a very good boy, now, are you?”

“Papa, please!” Atsushi pleaded, on the verge of tears as he bounced faster on the dildo. “Acchan is a good boy! Acchan… Acchan…” His words faltered as he moaned, eager to please.

“Then, show me,” Issay said, sitting down on the edge of the bed in front of Atsushi. “Show Papa how much you love playing with yourself.”

“Yes, Papa,” Atsushi breathed.

Lips trembling as he kept murmuring ‘papa’, Atsushi took hold of his stiff erection, stroking it in time with his bouncing to coax himself towards an orgasm. Atsushi’s eyes were locked to Issay’s, as if searching for signs of validation as he moved.

Issay stared back, quietly enjoying the wondrous sight of a sweaty Atsushi fucking himself on Issay’s dildo while pumping his erection. He held a hand over his mouth, masking the smile that had crept onto his face while he watched Atsushi’s eyes slowly grow glossy again as his pleasure began going to his head. Atsushi’s moans grew louder, and so did his cries for Issay until eventually, he climaxed.

Atsushi ejaculated, spilling cum onto the floor, and all at once, he came to a stop. He slowly looked up at Issay, tears in his eyes as he whined, “Papa…”

Issay spread his arms and said, "Now there’s a good boy.”

The moment he heard Issay’s words, Atsushi removed himself from the dildo and threw himself into Issay’s arms. Hugging Atsushi tightly, Issay moved them onto the bed proper, shifting until Issay lay against his pillows.

“My boy,” Issay whispered, kissing the top of Atsushi’s head as he caressed his bare skin.

“Papa,” Atsushi breathed in response. “Is Acchan a good boy?”

“A very good boy,” Issay gushed, hugging Atsushi tighter as he nuzzled his hair. There was no hiding that Issay enjoyed holding Atsushi like this as much as Atsushi did. After all, it has been so long since the last time. “You’re so good,” Issay added with another kiss, “that Papa will reward you.”

Atsushi lifted his head, unabashedly excited as he said, “I want Papa.”

Issay laughed and dropped back into the cushions. “You can do whatever you want with Papa,” he said as he caressed Atsushi’s face.

Atsushi turned and kissed Issay’s palm as he muttered, “Papa belongs to Acchan.”

“Mm,” Issay hummed as he watched Atsushi slide lower and unbutton his jeans.

Pulling it down, Atsushi took Issay’s erection out of his underwear and immediately put it into his mouth. Issay groaned softly from the enthusiastic sucking. Atsushi didn’t seem to have heard it. Completely absorbed in giving head, Atsushi held Issay’s erection in his hand as he kissed, licked and sucked to show off whatever he was capable of.

Atsushi’s eyes finally met Issay’s when he was lower down. With Issay’s scrotum in his mouth, Atsushi was gently nibbling, tongue moving while his hand continued to stroke Issay’s penis.

Running his fingers through Atsushi’s hair, Issay whispered, “My boy…”

Atsushi crinkled his eyes as he simpered and let go of Issay’s scrotum. Using his teeth, he did his best pulling Issay’s pants lower until he eventually gave up and used his hands instead. Tugging it off, Atsushi lavished attention on Issay’s long, slender legs, rubbing his face all over them as he kissed and groped, touching every inch of them until he came back to Issay’s crotch. He was biting on the soft skin of Issay’s inner thighs when he caught sight of Issay’s erection once more and decided to switch gears.

Rising up, Atsushi moved forward, excitedly aligning his groin with Issay’s. Watching Atsushi lick his lips, Issay chuckled at Atsushi’s eager expression as he held Issay’s erection and lowered himself. He sighed as he felt himself enter and Atsushi’s insides wrapped around him. Atsushi, no doubt, felt the same bliss. Choosing to ride Issay raw after the disappointing silicon of a dildo must feel utterly fulfilling to him, though Issay admittedly never had the pleasure of experiencing something like that.

Atsushi moaned deliciously, dropping his head back as he started moving his hips. Issay placed his hands on Atsushi’s thighs, smoothing his palms over them as he watched Atsushi enjoy himself.

Noticing Atsushi’s neglected erection, Issay’s lips tugged into a smile and he took hold of it, casually stroking it with his index finger and thumb to make Atsushi moan even more. He could feel Atsushi’s legs trembling as he clamped Issay hard paused, seemingly incapacitated by Issay’s handjob.

“Papa… Papa…” Atsushi articulated.

“Yes?” Issay intoned.

“Papa, choke me.”

“Huh?” This was the first time Issay heard something like that from Atsushi.

“Papa, fuck… me,” Atsushi said with increasing desperation as his voice began to fade. “Papa, choke me… fuck me…”

Well, then. Issay sat up and held Atsushi to his body before rolling to the side to lay him down. Now on top of Atsushi, Issay nuzzled Atsushi’s neck and breathed in his musk as he whispered, “Whatever you wish, my greedy little boy.”

Atsushi let out a joyful noise as Issay straightened up. Putting his hand on Atsushi’s neck, Issay tightened his grip on the sides, careful to merely keep a firm hold on Atsushi’s throat. He could feel Atsushi’s vocal cords vibrating under his hand as Atsushi scrunched his face up and whined.

With his other arm around Atsushi’s waist, Issay kept Atsushi close to him and started thrusting. He could feel Atsushi’s erection rubbing between their bodies. He could the slight twitch and wetness as precum leaked from Atsushi while he moaned. And just as Issay felt his own pleasure peaking, he released Atsushi’s neck, worried that he might squeeze too hard in his zeal.

Lips crashing together, Issay felt a rush of warmth flooding through his body, accompanying his release in Atsushi while the younger man clutched his body tightly with his legs. Issay continued kissing Atsushi slowly, savouring the moment as he felt his ephemeral high gradually dissipate until he was left with only the contrasting warmth from Atsushi and the coolness of sweat on his body.

Parting from their kiss, Atsushi’s eyes were half-closed as he sleepily murmured, “Papa… Love me…”

“Yes, Papa loves you,” Issay muttered, closing his eyes as he pressed a kiss to the fast falling asleep Atsushi’s forehead.

Issay watched as Atsushi hummed softly, contentedly while eyes closed. The sounds of slow breathing told Issay that Atsushi had truly fallen asleep in his bed without a care in the world. Issay could only smile as he nuzzled Atsushi’s face, taking the opportunity to revel in this reality where Atsushi stayed the night. Yet, as wonderful as all of this had been, he found himself incapable of ignoring the nagging reminder of how fleeting this all was. How it would all disappear with the crack of dawn creeping through his curtains, already dousing his room blue with its inevitability.

Chapter Text

The first time Sakurai cried in front of him was when Imai realized he was in love.

If you could ask him what he liked about the singer and get an honest answer back, Imai would wax poetic about the way the man's face scrunched up, giving his tears places to pool up for just a moment on their way down to drip off his cheeks. He'd bring up the way Sakurai's voice reduced to a small broken whisper in between sobbing gasps that shook his broad shoulders.

If he thought about it for too long, Imai would feel guilty about this being the Sakurai burned into his memories, but he refused to be shamed by his own mind.
The way Sakurai lowered his guard around Imai privately left him speechless and disarmed every time. That this man who scarcely even hints at what's behind his now glittering, dripping wet eyes in his lyrics could feel safe to reveal his true self, raw and fragile in his suffering, cut Imai open to his very soul.

Eventually, he would be pinned by the weight of Sakurai's pain and his body -- against the wall, on the end of the sofa, deep into the mattress -- and he would relish in it as Sakurai drowned him in teary affections that Imai surrendered under easily each and every time.

Theirs is an exchange of unyielding love and overflowing sorrow between their bodies until they both reach an equilibrium, and Imai cherished every second of it. Every grip of Sakurai's nails into his skin, every moan against his ear, the roll of their hips in tandem.

He would kiss away every salty tear that dried on Sakurai's face and take note at how beautiful his ever large eyes were behind the red puffy eyelids, how glossy his eyelashes looked. Imai would relish in the feel of Sakurai's still trembling lips against his fingers before kissing him, trying to scrape out the remnants of his darkness to consume.

Maybe it was wrong considering what it took to get there, but Imai's heart skips a beat at just the thought of Sakurai in tears.
Because he knows that it's something only he gets to see.
Something only he's allowed to heal.

Chapter Text

Sakurai didn't know what possessed him to turn around and flash his thigh-high stockings, garter belts and tiny, latex hot shorts to Anii. Or maybe he did. He recalled feeling a tad bit stung when Anii claimed on that web show that he didn't know what was going on, what Sakurai was doing on stage, in front of him. Despite all the smiles they shared between each other on stage since their indie days, something that was only between the two of them, with all the other members and even the audience none the wiser because of how that would be out of their sights, despite thirty years of that, Anii claimed to be unaware of the show that Sakurai put on.

So Sakurai deliberately turned around this time. He made sure Anii was watching him. He made sure Anii saw what he wore. He made sure Anii caught his smile, one that Anii just called 'cheeky' while laughing awkwardly as he cast furtive glances at Sakurai's thighs in the dressing room.

Perhaps it was something in the cosmos, but only Sakurai and Anii were left in here on this fateful occasion, still in their stage outfits right after their show, after Sakurai flashed him.

Sakurai knew what he was doing as he touched his own thighs, spread his legs a little wider, let Anii see a little more of him. He knew what he was courting when he asked, "Would you like to touch me?"

"No," Anii laughed, waving away his surprise and, perhaps, his embarrassment with a hand.

It was a reaction he expected, but Sakurai reached over and caught that hand. There was no resistance when he took it and put it on his thigh. Though he did notice how Anii froze. He could see Anii's mind racing. He could see, for the first time, fear of a different kind on Anii's face.

Sakurai moved Anii's hand, letting him stroke the soft, supple, porcelain skin of his thigh. He knew how it felt; like a woman's. Or, at least, that's what he had always been told. He could see Anii growing interested, yet at the same time, more hesitant.

Sakurai knew how Anii felt. He couldn't deny that he felt a similar apprehension. What if the others came back? What would they do? What would they say?

But all the same, Sakurai wanted to show Anii his appreciation for looking after him so well through all these years, for being the older brother he wished he had when he was younger. If Anii needed release, Sakurai would gladly help him with it.

Anii swallowed and muttered, “Acchan…”

“Anii,” Sakurai returned softly. “You know I don’t mind.”

“I know,” Anii muttered, squeezing his eyes shut as he frowned.

“Anii.” Sakurai moved closer.

Anii clamped his hand tightly on Sakurai’s thigh. “I know, Acchan,” he repeated. “I know… a lot of things.”

“Anii…”

“Believe me, Acchan,” Anii said, looking him in the eye. “I love you. A lot. But not like this.”

Sakurai found himself breaking into a smile as he let out a huff. He did, in fact, expect this.

“You are very precious to me, and I love you a lot,” Anii reiterated, his hand now on Sakurai’s knee instead. “Which is why I cannot find it in me to do whatever it is you’re trying to get me to do.”

“Anii, you’re too good,” Sakurai chuckled softly.

Brisk footsteps approached from outside. “Decided on what’s for dinner yet?” Imai asked as he walked into the room. Upon entering, he paused and looked at the two of them curiously. “Still haven’t changed?”

“You know me,” Sakurai smiled at him. “I need to relax first.”

“Enough relaxing, I’m starving!” Yuta’s voice sounded. “Let’s get sushi!” he suggested, popping his head in from the side of the door.

“Sushi again?!” Anii protested.

“I’m not complaining,” Imai smirked.

“No comment,” Sakurai shrugged as leaned back in his chair and watched Anii bicker with Yuta. He couldn’t help but smile as he watched them. No matter how much Anii protested, he would eventually give in to Yuta anyway. That was just the kind of person Anii was.

Anii seemed to notice Sakurai watching and he turned. Meeting his eyes, Sakurai beamed at him again and Anii returned the smile, same as ever. Sakurai let out a soft sigh. Oh, well. There went his little window of opportunity to push Anii. He was, after all, too straightlaced a man to yield.

Maybe next time, Sakurai should get him drunk first.

Chapter Text

 

Yutaka knows that just driving to the venue is probably easier than forcing himself into the crowded, limited space of a train car, but he does so anyway. Every time management has poked and prodded about why he insists on taking public transport despite saying their manager would be more than happy to give him a ride to some places, Yutaka always refuses. He’s a normal person, not superior to anyone else taking the train. Part of his brother’s proclamation that he’s selling music and not himself inspires Yutaka a bit too. He’s selling music and his image, but he’s not a Johnny’s idol group member or a Takarazuka actress. He’s allowed to have a personal life, he’s allowed outside among his fellow people. 

 

Foolishly, Yutaka takes the train during rush hour. When the school children coming off of after school activities and businessmen fresh off of work cram into the train going every which way. It makes moving through parts of the station crowded and almost impossible to get through, but Yutaka still likes it. Despite BUCK-TICK’s massive popularity that’s only grown release after release, he still participated in regular annoyances like rush hour. When the bassist is finally on the train, he’s squished up against the side door by the other passengers. It’s understandable, so he just tries his very best to stay still, hoping that at the next stop some of the pressure will be relieved and some people will get off. 

 

The train ride is smooth despite Yutaka’s uncomfortable position, and he spends the ride looking outside as the train navigates through the Tokyo metropolitan area. He doesn’t notice how a particular woman behind him seems to just be lying on him, with her tits up against his back. She’s taller than him, and when Yutaka does notice, he brushes it off. It’s so crowded, what can you do?

 

Until her hand begins to move. First, just resting on his hip, then moving to his front. He’s still pushed against the doors of the train car, so he’s forced to feel every little movement she does and he has nowhere to escape too. A few panicked looks to his surroundings, and everyone is either too consumed in the books in their hands or asleep to notice what’s happening. Eventually it’s Yutaka’s bare skin against her hand, and that’s when she finally speaks to him. 

 

“I never thought I would see you in real life, let alone touch you like this.” She whispers into his ear, and from how her knees poke into Yutaka’s thigh, she's crouching down a bit to speak to him. The rumble of the train going through a tunnel causes the mechanical sounds of the train to amplify, so there’s no chance anyone other than Yutaka knows she’s speaking. “You’re so much cuter in real life.” There’s a hint of a laugh at the end, and it makes Yuta do the tiniest shove to get her off of him. It doesn’t work very well, so he just ends up with his cheek crushed against the window. 

 

“C’mon, did you really think that would work?” Her voice is low and still calm, as if there’s nothing wrong with what she’s doing, but condescending nonetheless. “That’s what I like about you. You’re short and skinny, the only person you could probably fight off is elementary schoolers. I bet if I did this to you outside of this crowded little train, I could just do whatever I wanted to you.” Her hand snakes its way back down his pants, this time just rubbing his cock through his boxers- thankfully. “You’re like a little rag doll during sex, aren’t you?” She spends a little more time without saying anything, just groping his cock. She never actually moves under his boxers, just stroking him through them.

 

“Oh, I bet you’re gay, aren’t you?” She’s laughing at him again. “Your cock is really small, but I bet you knew that already. You can’t please anyone with that. So you take it instead. Tiny and cute, like a girl. Oh Yuu-chan , everything about you is so tiny. That’s why you’re my favorite.” Her hand finally pulls out of his pants, and her weight is finally off of his back- in fact, she’s gone. Yutaka hadn’t even noticed that the doors on the opposite side of the car had opened, and a good portion of the passengers had gotten off. 

 

This is Shibuya station. Passengers transferring to the…

 

Fuck, Shibuya station. The station his groper had gotten off at, and unfortunately the station he was supposed to get off at too to find his way to the venue he’s supposed to attend. As much as he would’ve liked to have attended, he feels gross . The bassist can barely hold himself up on his own legs to cross the platform to the trains going to opposite way- back home - let alone attend a live performance to support a colleague. Next time, he’ll just take up management’s offer to give him a ride.

Chapter Text

Sorry, we're still working on it!

Chapter Text

The club scene in London was something else compared to back home in Japan. Not just the music, which at this particular dive was full of all his new wave favorites, but also the drugs.

It was hard, but Imai had managed to get his hands on a bit of weed or something now and then in Tokyo, part of the reward -- and the risk -- of their fame. But here? Here he was an absolute no one who barely spoke the language and yet he was partying hard through the night. Imbibing in shots and lines of coke with a group that had welcomed him into the fun.

Somehow, still standing but feeling the clock tick down to when he'd finally drop, he got up from the table they'd all been huddled over to go. He felt a strong grip at his shoulder and what he was guessing was English -- it barely even sounded like words to him -- being spoken as he was being walked into the men's toilet.

The guy who led him in knocked on the stall door at the end of the row. It opened as two other men walked out, one of them still hiking his pants up over his underwear.

Imai swallowed nervously. The guy wasn't particularly terrible looking but he also hadn't been prepared for this much tonight. In what little bit of English his intoxicated mind could remember, he tried to decline, only for the guy to laugh heartily as he shoved Imai into the stall and shut him in there alone.

Imai stumbled and fell over the toilet seat, arms out in front to keep his face out of the murky waters. Once he felt steady he turned to push and bang against the door but it wouldn't budge. Someone was holding it shut from the outside. Sighing, he looked around the stall, hoping to figure out how to get out of this situation. On the graffiti covered walls he saw a hole in the one separating the corner stall he was in with the next one over. Sliding down to bring it to eye level Imai glanced in.

In the next stall he could see the middle of a man where torso met legs, hands in front as he unbuckled and unzipped before pushing it all down to expose his dick.

Imai reeled back as the man moved up against the wall and shoved his erection through the hole between the stalls. He panicked as he felt the floor underneath him give way like a dropping elevator and dug his fingers against the ceramic tiling of the floor.

Suddenly there was pounding from the door and the wall along with angry yelling and Imai huddled up, burying his head between his knees until it all stopped. Before he could move, the door slammed open and the guy from earlier grabbed Imai with one hand, pinched his nose shut with the other and promptly stuffed his mouth with the man in the other stall's dick as Imai was forced to breathe from it.

The guy held Imai's head firm against the stall wall as his mouth was fucked fervently through it. They could both hear the man reach his limit before Imai could taste it in his mouth, letting it dribble down his chin as he refused to swallow it. The guy released him before locking him alone in the stall again, and shortly after a new customer greeted him through the hole.

He felt disgusted, but remembering what just happened, Imai resigned into hoping cooperation would get him out sooner.

One after another, a new dick would show up and Imai would attempt to service. He didn't even bother to look, keeping his mouth pressed against the hole as a never ending line up of horny men came to relieve themselves using him.

Imai's taste buds dulled along with his general awareness as he disassociated from the moment until finally a familiar voice yelling snapped him back into the now. He pulled away from the wall as he started to choke from the realization.

 

Not him .

 

The world slowed around Imai, the yelling going on outside the stalls felt like it was crawling into his ears as he felt his body moving through mud as he tried to get up when he saw the stall door crack open.

Before he could, it opened completely and he was picked up by a familiar pair of arms that spirited him out and away from the bar.

 

In the chilly night air, he felt himself being deposited gently into the backseat of the taxi before his rescuer climbed in beside him.

 

"For fuck sake Imai what were yo--"

 

"Anii please. Tomorrow. Yell at me tomorrow."

Chapter Text

Atsushi stroked Hisashi’s dyed hair as he watched him sleep. Hisashi had once again passed out halfway through the party but this time, instead of simply depositing him at home and leaving, Atsushi had decided to stay. But that was only because the others said that they were tired too and they wanted to go home.

Or, at least, that was what he told himself. Atsushi could have gone home too, but here he remained. Why? He wasn’t too sure himself. It wasn’t as if Hisashi would suddenly wake up and start drinking with him again.

Atsushi sighed and lay on his side as he continued to gaze at Hisashi’s sleeping face, admiring his guitarist’s cherubic features. It was rare to see him like this, so peaceful and unguarded. It was so easy for Atsushi to simply… lean in… and kiss… him.

It felt a little unusual, kissing Hisashi’s unresponsive lips, but for some reason, Atsushi found himself drawn in by the lack of response. Perhaps he just wanted to coax a reaction out of Hisashi. Perhaps he wanted to try and see how much it took to wake Hisashi up again. Or perhaps it was something else. Whatever it was, Atsushi went ahead and kissed Hisashi again, sucking lightly on his unmoving lips as he fed his own desires.

Pausing, Atsushi hovered over Hisashi and stroked his hair again, brushing it out of his face while his other hand began to wander. He slipped a hand under the sleeping man’s shirt, casually caressing the smooth skin as his hand crept up Hisashi’s torso.

Atsushi rubbed his thumb over Hisashi’s nipple to no response. He smiled to himself. It was unusual. Hisashi would normally be squirming under him, trying to reciprocate or get away, depending on his mood. This stillness was odd. But the freedom to do whatever he wanted to Hisashi was very enjoyable.

With both hands under Hisashi’s shirt now, Atsushi groped him, feeling the subtle curves and dips on Hisashi’s body while kissing Hisashi. His hands naturally gravitated downwards after a while, sliding into Hisashi’s pants to fondle his rear. Or lack thereof. Not that Atsushi minded.

Hisashi’s shirt had now been pushed up, exposing his stomach and chest as Atsushi worked on easing his pants lower. Smiling to himself, Atsushi pressed his face against Hisashi’s skin, enjoying the warm skin against his own and sliding down together with Hisashi’s pants.

Hisashi’s dick was soft. But of course, he was asleep. Not that it mattered. Atsushi had no problem with getting Hisashi erect.

Atsushi rubbed his palm against Hisashi’s penis, up and down a few times before he finally closed his hand around it and stroked. Atsushi’s smile grew wider as he felt Hisashi growing hard in his grasp. Awake or not, his body would still react and when his body reacts…

Hisashi let out a soft grunt and shifted under Atsushi. Only then did Atsushi let go, pausing to admire the sight before him as he reached for the lube and condoms in Hisashi’s bedside drawer. Hisashi’s peaceful sleeping face, a vast contrast from the rest of him, half-undressed with precum leaking from his hard cock. The way he looked so innocent yet so indecent was such a turn on that Atsushi found it absolutely impossible to resist him.

Taking his time, Atsushi continued gazing at Hisashi as he pushed his pants down and put on a condom. In that time, Hisashi shifted again and slapped a hand onto his stomach. Was the coolness of the room getting to him? Well, that wasn’t going to be an issue.

Atsushi coated his fingers in lube and leaned forward, lifting Hisashi’s right leg as he carefully prodded Hisashi’s entrance with his fingers. He rubbed them around the area, watching Hisashi closely to see if he would react. But this time, he didn’t. Not even when Atsushi pushed his fingers in and moved them to loosen Hisashi up.

Amused, Atsushi removed his fingers and held Hisashi’s other leg up. Resting it against his shoulder, he pressed his tip against Hisashi’s entrance and eased himself in with a soft sigh.

Hisashi didn’t react. Atsushi didn’t quite understand why, but he felt even more aroused by this.

Leaning forward, Atsushi put his forearms on the bed by Hisashi’s head, hovering close to him as he moved his hips and thrust. Atsushi could barely resist the urge to moan as he watched Hisashi’s unconscious body move to his rhythm. He needed to feel Hisashi more.

Atsushi dropped lower, shifting his arms hug Hisashi and hold him. He pressed his lips against Hisashi’s neck, kissing him while resisting the urge to bite Hisashi. All of this may not have woken him up, but a bite might. He looked up at Hisashi’s closed eyes, his parted lips, his flushed skin… The pressure in his crotch grew tight and Atsushi moaned softly, nuzzling Hisashi’s cheek as he thrust a few more times and eventually felt that gratifying release, bringing him relief and satisfaction together with a nice, comfortable lull in his senses.

Pulling out, Atsushi smiled at Hisashi, still so peacefully asleep despite everything. He chuckled to himself as he turned away and took the condom off.

A strained, husky voice asked, “Did you just fuck me?”

Caught by surprise, Atsushi froze and glanced over his shoulder. Hisashi’s eyes had opened a crack and he was looking at him.

Hisashi swallowed and asked, “You’re not going to leave me like this, are you?”

“No,” Atsushi answered. That thought had never crossed his mind even once.

“Good,” Hisashi slurred, sounding as if he was falling asleep again. “Don’t mmh… hn this…”

Atsushi could not help but smile at Hisashi’s attempt at speaking. He leaned over and gently cupped his cheek, giving him a kiss on his forehead. “I’m not going anywhere.”

Chapter Text

It's on the way... Somewhere

Chapter Text

“I can’t believe they mistook you for a waiter,” Imai grumbled as he exhaled the breath he took from his cigarette.

Walking next to him was Sakurai, smoking a cigarette as well as they walked down the deserted street. “Well, you did say that my outfit looked more like a butler’s than a regular suit,” he chuckled, flicking a lock of hair out of his face.

“A butler and a waiter are two different things,” Imai stressed. “How could they mix that up? And to make you start serving out of nowhere?!” he scoffed, growing increasingly upset as he gestured. “The audacity!”

“At least they apologised,” Sakurai smiled as he watched Imai rant, his voice echoing into the night. The copious amount of wine they drank at the wedding dinner must be contributing to that.

“And you!” Imai turned around, pointing a finger at Sakurai. “Why the hell did you go along with it without saying anything?”

“They just… had me swept off by their flow,” Sakurai muttered sheepishly. “I couldn’t really find a chance to explain. Well, at least I had you to make a scene for me,” he added teasingly.

“What would you do if I wasn’t there?! Keep serving?!”

“Maybe,” Sakurai laughed.

“Do you really like serving people that much?!”

“Well, I don’t mind it, especially if it’s you,” Sakurai teased again. Bringing face closer to Imai’s as they continued on, he asked, “Would you like me to serve you, Master?”

Imai paused in his tracks and stared at Sakurai. “You can’t be serious.”

“I’m here to serve if you want, Master,” Sakurai said, flashing a bright smile at Imai as he gave him an ostentatious bow.

“Wha…”

“Your wish is my command.” Sakurai dipped low.

“Uh… If you insist then… Carry me home.”

“With pleasure,” Sakurai said. He knelt in front of Imai, back to him with one knee on the floor and waited.

Imai seemed hesitant when he came close and put his arms around Sakurai’s neck. Sakurai hooked his arms under Imai’s legs and stood up, giving Imai a piggyback ride as he bit his cigarette and continued smoking.

“Are you sure you’re alright?” Imai asked, hesitant as he held on to Sakurai tightly.

“Don’t you worry about me, Master,” Sakurai hummed. “Your wish is my command.”

“No, for real,” Imai reiterated. “You’re fine carrying me like this?”

“Of course,” Sakurai chuckled. “I’ve taken you home like this before.”

“When?” Imai asked, sounding genuinely confused.

“When you were drunk,” Sakurai answered, smiling to himself at the memory. “So drunk that you were completely knocked out, Master.”

“Ngh,” Imai groaned as he dropped forward. Resting his chin on Sakurai’s right shoulder, he sighed and muttered, “And now you’re sending me home again, aren’t you? Before you leave for another something somewhere.”

Sakurai did think of that but… “If Master wants to me to spend the night, I will,” he offered with a smile.

“You’re really serious about this butler thing, aren’t you?” Imai remarked as he flicked his cigarette butt into a drain they went past.

“Does Master recall the last time we had any sort of fun like this?” Sakurai asked.

“Hn… Man… Shit, I really can’t remember now,” Imai muttered. “I guess it really has been a while.”

“Mhmm.”

“Hey, weren’t we supposed to hail a taxi?” Imai suddenly brought up.

“Well, we haven’t seen one come by, Master.”

“We can’t really walk home from here.”

“Whose home?” Sakurai asked as a smile tugged on his lips.

“Both of ours,” Imai answered. “We both live about an hour- Oy! There’s one!” he suddenly exclaimed, pointing a finger at a taxi approaching from behind.

“You need to flag it down, Master,” Sakurai said, stopping by the side of the pavement. “If you haven’t noticed, my hands are occupied.”

Imai immediately stuck his arm out and waved. Luckily, he was quick enough to give the taxi enough time to slow down and stop for them. Sakurai carefully let Imai down, making sure he was steady on his feet before straightening up again to enter the vehicle after him.

As Sakurai was closing the door, Imai gave his address to the driver and then slumped into the seat.

"Ah, do you want him to drop you off at home too?" Imai asked, pointing a finger at Sakurai.

"Well, I'm spending the night at your place, aren't I, Master?" Sakurai teased.

"God, don't play like that. We're no longer alone," Imai said quickly, darting his eyes in the driver's direction as his voice went hushed.

"But how else will you flaunt your status, Master?" Sakurai continued as his grin grew wider.

"You're just fucking with me now, aren't you?"

"Would you like me to, Master?" Sakurai purred softly as he leaned across the seats.

Alarmed, Imai tried to smack him as subtly as possible. "What the hell do you think you're doing?!" he hissed, eyes glancing in the driver's direction.

"Master did ask for a little fucking, didn't he?" Sakurai whispered with a smirk and an eyebrow wiggle. Holding Imai's apprehensive gaze, he quietly unbuttoned Imai's pants and slowly pulled the zip down, making as little noise as possible. "Master isn't stopping me either, is he?" Sakurai added with a soft chuckle.

Imai looked frozen yet, at the same time, hypervigilant. Eyes wide, he stared outside the window stiffly while keeping an eye on the driver. Sakurai felt fingers slowly weave into his hair, gripping firmly while he took Imai's dick out and licked his lips. Sakurai looked up at Imai. When their eyes met, he winked at Imai and Imai frowned back, wrinkling his nose as Sakurai continued holding his gaze while putting Imai into his mouth.

As Sakurai started sucking on the soft member, Imai’s lips twitched and he quickly looked away. Sakurai’s cheeks tensed up as he smiled. He could see how Imai was focusing on maintaining a stony demeanour so as to not draw the driver’s attention.

The car went over a bump in the road and Imai’s dick accidentally hit against Sakurai’s teeth in the process. Imai slapped his free hand over his mouth, suppressing a grunt as he grimaced and gave Sakurai a pointed look.

“You alright back there?” the driver suddenly asked, looking through the rearview mirror.

“Yeah,” Imai mustered with a strained voice. “It’s just, uh, my stomach… you know, alcohol.”

“And your friend?” the driver asked as he straightened up in an attempt to find Sakurai who had taken Imai out of his mouth and was now making eyes at Imai while kissing his dick.

“Napping,” Imai said quickly. “Sleepy from the alcohol, you know,” he chuckled nervously.

“Right… Let me know if you feel like you need a bag,” the driver said before turning his full attention back to the road.

“Yeah, sure,” Imai answered curtly as he gave Sakurai another look.

Sakurai simply beamed up at him. Despite his discomfort, Imai was well and truly hard now. Sakurai held it in his hand and opened his mouth again. Putting it in, he fluttered his eyes up at Imai, batting his lashes with deliberate blinks as he sucked as quietly as possible.

With the need to be subtle, there wasn't much Sakurai could do, but he could use his tongue. And use it he did. He made sure to press his tongue against Imai's dick every time he dipped down, adding additional pressure as he entered and teasing Imai's tip as he drew out.

Imai certainly did appreciate it. Sakurai could feel the grip on his hair tightening and releasing intermittently. Glancing up at him, Sakurai found Imai with a hand over his mouth as his eyes gave away his reactions with every minute twitch. He couldn't help but smile whenever he noticed Imai's cheeks tensing or his eyes squinting slightly.

Even better was when Sakurai pushed all the way in and had Imai hit the back of his throat. Half-swallowing, he tightened the space in his mouth and pulled away against the suction, making Imai let out a strained noise despite his efforts.

"You need a bag?" the driver asked, worry evident in his voice.

"Nope, I'm al… righ…" Imai's voice faltered and faded into a suppressed whine as Sakurai repeated the manoeuvre.

Imai looked down at Sakurai, eyes wide and jaw tense while Sakurai simply smiled at him as sweetly as he could with a dick in his mouth.

"Take the bag, please," the driver implored, shaking a piece of plastic at Imai. "Just in case. You can keep it."

"Thanks," Imai muttered as he leaned forward and reluctantly took the bag.

When Imai reverted to his original position, Sakurai repeated the act once more and finally, Imai came. Another strained noise came from Imai but this time, he started coughing to disguise the noise and the other noises that he continued to make as Sakurai continued sucking and swallowing whatever Imai ejaculated.

Sakurai could feel Imai's hand tugging at his hair. In a way, it felt like Imai was trying to get Sakurai off his crotch yet somehow, it also felt as if Imai wasn't really trying all that hard to succeed.

Eventually, Sakurai took Imai out of his mouth and turned to lay on his back. Opening his mouth, he purposely showed Imai the remnants of his discharge and winked before swallowing it all down. Imai glared at him in response, baring his teeth while Sakurai discreetly returned Imai's dick into his pants.

Smiling at Imai, Sakurai mouthed, More?

Imai wrinkled his nose and scowled as he held Atsushi’s face with his hand under his chin and squished his cheeks. “Just you wait till we get home,” Imai whispered.

Yes, Master, Sakurai mouthed cheekily.

Imai stuffed the plastic bag into his face as Sakurai laughed silently in Imai’s lap and wondered how long he could keep this going for. Oh well, whatever it was, at least he’d know for sure that tonight will be interesting. At least, until Imai falls asleep.

Chapter Text

Oh where,
Oh where

is the goddamn chapter, NUrsE?

Chapter Text

“Why are you so nice to her?”

“Huh?” Hisashi looked up from stirring the pot. To his surprise, Atsushi was glaring at him. “Who?”

“That girl who started coming to the stall regularly,” Atsushi muttered angrily, stabbing at the octopus in his bowl. “The one who comes every evening and stays until she’s the last one to leave.”

“Ah, Chako?” Hisashi asked as he continued to stir the pot.

“Yes.”

“I’m nice to her?” Hisashi questioned, cocking his head to one side in confusion as he watched the broth bubble. Was he nice to her?

“You smile at her a lot-”

“She’s a customer.”

“-and you speak to her different-”

“I mean, I’m just matching her tone.”

“-and you give her all my favourite bits-”

“Well, she likes those too-”

Atsushi slammed his fork down on the dining table, startling Hisashi.

“What the hell?” Hisashi blurted, turning to look at Atsushi who was now standing.

“You would never say that to her,” Atsushi spat.

“I can’t say that to her, she’s a customer!”

“Are you saying she’s more special than I am?” Atsushi looked utterly furious as he steadily approached Hisashi.

“No!” Hisashi immediately denied. He was completely confused now. What on earth was Atsushi going on about? “Wait, wait, wait!” he held a palm up to Atsushi who came closer without a break in pace. 

Whatever Atsushi was about to do Hisashi didn’t want him too close to the stove and the stew. It wasn’t safe. “Atsushi, wait!” Hisashi exclaimed. “The stove-!”

Atsushi’s lips crashed violently against Hisashi’s as Atsushi held his face in his hands and continued moving forward, completely disregarding Hisashi’s flailing. Atsushi’s kissing was rough, his grasp was tight, his whole demeanour was completely unlike his usual self. It scared him.

Upon parting from that breathless kiss, Atsushi growled through gritted teeth, “You’re mine.”

“Atsushi, what’s going-”

Before Hisashi could ask his question, Atsushi kissed him again, silencing him. Desperate to speak to Atsushi properly, Hisashi tried to reject his kiss. Unfortunately, it appears that this only served to incense Atsushi further. Hisashi found himself pushed further back. He wasn't even sure of the direction they were going in, but he ended up against the wall by their front door.

Pinning Hisashi there with a thump, Atsushi kept kissing him roughly as he kept repeating the two words "you're mine" every time they parted. 

"Atsushi, stop!" Hisashi pushed him away, or rather, he tried but Atsushi was too strong.

Incensed by Hisashi's exclamation, Atsushi bared his teeth and bit the side of Hisashi's neck, again growling, "You're mine!"

"Atsushi!" Hisashi smacked his palm against Atsushi's shoulder, panic fast welling up as he felt a flash of pain in his neck. "Atsushi, stop! You're hurting me! Please!"

Atsushi finally let go. Suddenly released from whatever rage just took hold of him, he gasped, eyes wide with shock.

"Atsushi?" Hisashi whispered. "Atsushi, look at me, please," he said, gently tilting Atsushi's face up at him despite the stinging sensation in his neck.

Atsushi's eyes were filled with tears and his pale lips were tinged bright crimson. "I'm sorry," he breathed weakly, horrified with himself as he pulled away. Before Hisashi could catch hold of him, Atsushi slipped out of his reach and disappeared out the door in a blur of his shimmering robe and long black hair.

Now alone, Hisashi stood frozen in shock where Atsushi left him. He still couldn’t wrap his head around what just happened. Had Atsushi been disturbed by how he had been interacting with customers all this time? Why didn’t he say so?

Hisashi absentmindedly touched his hand to his neck and winced again. He thought it went numb or that he wouldn’t feel anything any more, but his fingers felt wet, broken skin with little uneven ridges. He looked down and saw blood on his digits. He did expect that considering the red on Atsushi’s lips, but he didn’t expect to see so much blood that it had soaked through his grey shirt. This seemed bad. No wonder Atsushi ran away.

Ran away?

Hisashi stared at the door. Wasn’t Atsushi wearing his robe? Did he intend to…

“No!” Hisashi blurted to himself. He needed to go after Atsushi.

Hisashi began reaching for the doorknob when he paused and turned back around. He needed to turn off the stove first. They still needed a home to come back to. When that was done, he left the house in a sprint.

“Atsushi!” He screamed as loudly as he could into the moonlit night. He didn’t care if anyone else heard him. He just needed to make sure that Atsushi did. And Atsushi should. There was no way he couldn’t have heard his call. No way, unless… he was already…

Hisashi screamed again with all his might, channelling the ache in his chest into his call. He was kicking up sand as he approached the shoreline. Eyes scanning the water, he called again, screaming until his voice cracked. “Atsushi!” He waded into the sea. “Where are you?!” 

Fighting against the current, Hisashi went deeper and deeper. The rising water felt like his desperation to get to Atsushi, rising higher and higher until he could no longer find his footing. Eventually, he found himself treading water far from shore. Why hasn’t Atsushi responded? Was he really gone?

“Atsushi!” He called again, tears welling up in his eyes as the reality that Atsushi might really be gone for good began weighing down in his stomach. “No,” he muttered, denying it. “Atsushi, come home, please!” he called again, his voice growing weaker as he pleaded. 

Hisashi looked to the shore. It was even further away now. He tried to swim back but he felt weak with the saltwater biting into his wound and the loss of Atsushi. He couldn’t fight the pull of the waves which were taking him out to sea. “Atsushi…” he tried to call out once more but with his throat squeezing up, all he could manage was a mere whisper.

“You idiot,” a soft voice muttered from his right.

Turning, Hisashi found Atsushi’s large sorrowful eyes, glittering in the moonlight above the water while the rest of him remained submerged. Immediately, Hisashi felt the weight lift from his chest and he moved towards Atsushi. Instead of letting Hisashi close the gap, though, Atsushi moved away, shaking his head.

Hisashi instantly felt his chest ache again. “Atsushi, please,” he implored. “Please, come back with me.”

Atsushi shook his head and retreated. “Not until this is over,” he hummed sadly, turning tail and disappearing underwater again.

“I don’t understand!” Hisashi yelled as he attempted to give chase. Why was he so bad at swimming? “Atsushi!” He sucked in a breath and dipped his head underwater but he should’ve known it was pointless. It was far too dark to see.

Hisashi raised his head out of the water only to meet with a wave sweeping over him. He was tossed under again before he could catch his breath and as the water tossed his body around, he felt his heart in his throat, beating faster than ever again. Again. He hated how this always happened.

Flailing about, Hisashi desperately tried to claw his way back to the surface. Had he already gone so far out that he could no longer touch the floor? He needed Atsushi’s help. But Atsushi wasn’t coming back, was he? Hisashi gasped and lost a few precious bubbles of air to the pain.

As he fought, Hisashi felt a disturbance in the water from behind, coming up around his right. He caught a brief glimpse of opalescent silver flashing in the moonlight before hands took hold of his face and lips pressed against his own, breathing air into his starved lungs.

It was Atsushi. There was no mistaking it. Hisashi knew from the way he tasted, from the way he felt in his arms and the way his long tresses tickled his face. Not to mention, Atsushi was the only being who could and would do this for him.

Once Hisashi felt the constricted feeling in his chest ease, the next thing he felt was a tug at his pants. He opened his eyes in surprise but all he saw before him was Atsushi’s half-lidded eyes gazing intensely at him. With their lips still pressed together, Hisashi felt his pants fall away and Atsushi’s tail curling up between his legs. Atsushi closed his eyes, breaking eye contact as he leaned forward.

Hisashi let Atsushi lay him down on his tail. It was an unusual gesture. Atsushi had never done this before. Then again, Atsushi had never flared up at him nor hurt him like that before. Nothing that had happened throughout this entire evening has made sense but as long as Atsushi was with him, he really couldn’t complain.

Hisashi could feel Atsushi’s phallus between his legs. Again, it was usual how Atsushi seemed familiar with this odd position and how he just as easily found the right angle to enter Hisashi without much difficulty. It was also unusual that Atsushi’s entry didn’t seem to hurt despite the lack of preparation. Maybe that was one of the many strange little things that came with Atsushi as a package. 

As Atsushi began to move his… hips? Hisashi felt completely enveloped by him. With Atsushi’s tail under him, his long locks and fins lightly brushing over his skin with the currents, his arms cradling him as he buried his fingers in his hair, his lips kissing him while breathing air into him, Hisashi found himself wholly and fully submitting to Atsushi’s graces. If Atsushi decided to let him go, there was nothing stopping him from sinking all the way to the bottom.

No.

Atsushi’s soft, calming voice echoed in Hisashi’s head. As Atsushi held him tighter, Hisashi felt a surge of warmth surging through his body, making his insides tingle as Atsushi’s thrusts and affectionate caresses seemed to sap the strength from his body. Hisashi moaned into Atsushi’s mouth, jerking his hips as an even more intense wave of numbing pleasure washed over him.

Coming while completely submerged definitely didn’t have the same sense of conclusion as to when he did on land, but nonetheless, the sensation that Hisashi felt was otherworldly. He couldn’t tell whether it was Atsushi’s doing or the unusual situation of being underwater for so long, but he felt as if he was floating, suspended with Atsushi in midair.

With the way Atsushi remained in him, Hisashi couldn’t tell whether Atsushi was done or not when he curled up with him, holding him in his protective embrace as they drifted along until Hisashi felt smooth rocks beneath him. Slowly opening his eyes, Hisashi found that they no longer stung from the water. They appeared to have washed up the shore of a bay somewhere while Atsushi hugged him from behind, face in the crook of his neck where he bit him earlier and still in his half-fish form with his tail and scales and fins.

As the cool sea breeze dried his face, Hisashi heard a soft mutter of “I’m sorry” in his ear followed by a sniffle.

“Atsushi,” Hisashi sighed, suddenly feeling tired. “Just come home with me.”

“No. Not until it’s over,” Atsushi repeated as his tears fell on Hisashi’s neck.

“I don’t understand,” Hisashi lamented. It hurt that Atsushi was crying and yet he refused to come back. “Until what is over?”

“Mating season.”

“… Mating season?” Hisashi echoed, slightly stunned.

“Yes,” Atsushi answered softly.

“You… your kind have mating seasons?”

“Yes,” Atsushi repeated. “At least… I think it is the season… Probably.”

“Is that why you bit me?”

“No, I… I don’t actually know why I did that,” Atsushi mumbled sheepishly. “I’m sorry,” he whispered, sniffing audibly as more tears fell again.

“Don’t cry,” Hisashi comforted, squeezing Atsushi’s hand in his. “I’m not upset about it. It doesn’t matter. It’ll heal in time.”

“It won’t,” Atsushi said.

“What do you mean it won’t?!” Hisashi returned as panic suddenly flared up.

“I mean…” Atsushi took hold of Hisashi’s hand and pressed his fingertips to his neck. Surprisingly, it felt as if the bite wound was gone. “You’re okay now,” Atsushi whispered.

“How…?”

“If my tears fall-”

“Don’t you ever cry because of me,” Hisashi forbade.

“But-!”

“You won’t make me feel better by crying. I can’t feel better when you cry, Atsushi.”

Judging by his sobs, saying that only seemed to make Atsushi cry harder.

“Just come home with me,” Hisashi pleaded. “And take your cock out of me, please.”

Atsushi seemed to laugh and sob at the same time as he muttered another ‘sorry’. When Atsushi shifted a little and slid right out Hisashi felt relief, but not all that much. He was still sore, after all. Immediately after that, Atsushi pressed closer to Hisashi again, hugging him tightly.

“I can’t stay,” Atsushi insisted. “I don’t know how I’ll react when there are others-”

“How long does this ‘mating season’ last?” Hisashi interrupted.

“A month… or two, I think,” Atsushi answered. “You won’t even notice that I'm away-”

“We’ll go out to sea tomorrow,” Hisashi decided. “We’ll go out there and we’ll stay out there until it’s over. Just you and me.”

Atsushi made a surprised noise. “But the stall...”

“We don’t need it to survive,” Hisashi said. “I’d rather lose the stall than not have you around anyway,” he added softly.

Atsushi fell silent. “I’m afraid I’ll hurt you again,” he mumbled quietly.

“I’m more afraid you won’t come back if I let you leave,” Hisashi confessed. Holding Atsushi’s hand, he kissed his fingers, feeling the cold band of gold against his lips. “You said I’m yours but you’re mine as well. You’re not going anywhere without me.”

“Hisashi…” Atsushi made a soft whining noise in his throat and pressed his face into Hisashi’s hair.

“We’ll open the store tomorrow morning, run it till noon, tell as many people as possible that we’ll be away and we leave right after that,” Hisashi detailed.

“And Chako?”

“No one here is giving more of a shit about Chako than you, Atsushi.”

Atsushi whined sheepishly.

“We’ll go out and live there until your mating season ends- Wait,” Hisashi paused. A sudden thought made a chill run down his spine. “Can… You can’t get me… pregnant, right?”

“Can human males get pregnant?” Atsushi asked.

“No,” Hisashi answered. “Not anatomically speaking. Not that I know of… Can you?”

“I’m… not sure,” Atsushi answered. “We could try…?”

“Uh… I… I’m not ready for kids, Atsushi. I don’t even know if I want kids,” Hisashi muttered, speaking faster and faster. The thought honestly never even crossed his mind before. With two men, there shouldn’t be a need to think about this, right? ... “Have you ever…?”

“Well, no,” Atsushi replied. “But… I might’ve accidentally gotten someone pregnant before…”

“Accidentally?”

“I didn’t expect it to work,” Atsushi mumbled.

“So… you’ve got a kid swimming around somewhere out there?”

“May… be… more than one?”

“Atsushi.”

“Yes?”

“Let’s not have kids.”

“Why not?”

“I don’t think we’d be good at taking care of one.”

Atsushi was silent for a moment, then he laughed. “You’re probably right,” he hummed, nuzzling Hisashi.

Hisashi hummed in agreement, relieved that Atsushi thought the same. He was probably going to have a sore back for a long while because of this, but that, he could live with. A child… He scoffed. No way.

Chapter Text

Another missing in action

Chapter Text

On the first of March, eccentric visual artist Imai Hisashi revealed his latest performance art piece, simply titled “Undeserved Pleasure.” This R-18, invite only showcase ran from the first of March to the fourth, in a floor of a building in West Tokyo. All other details of the exhibition were kept under wraps, at the request of the artist. 

 

The invitees of this exhibition? 

Journalists, other artists, friends of the artist, and a “handful assortment of randoms,” as Imai explained it. These were the only people that entered that floor of the building, not even the artist himself entered. 

 

And the exhibition itself, has a long backstory behind it. Work on the piece started two years ago when Imai’s subject, Slave no.37 was locked within a chastity cage and kept under strict supervision to prevent any and all sexual stimulation. The purpose? To make the slave so deprived of stimulation and desperate for the need to release, that it begged and pleaded for anything. This exhibition would give it just that. This information was divulged in the invitation, but no further information. Everything else, was for you to see with your own eyes.

 

The display itself, is simple. Slave no.37 in the middle of the empty floor, with it properly anchored to the floor unable to move with chains. The space is decorated with nothing but blown up portraits for slave no.37. A fucking machine set, pumping out of the slave slowly. Its’ silent, clearly not enough stimulation for it. It is almost as if the slave isn’t even there.

 

To seasoned observers of Imai’s work, a few of the pieces on the walls are familiar from previous exhibitions. There are close up shots of its’ back, stained with welts and even small bits of blood, evidence of a beating.  More shots of the slave in different positions, its’ cock within its steel cage, nipple clamps, there is nothing left to the viewers imagination. Every square inch of the slave is documented on camera, displayed for all to see. It has no concept of modesty anymore, all of that destroyed with the click of a camera.

 

There isn’t long to stare at the photographs, because the machine comes to life. Whirring slowly forward, the machine fucks into the slave. Just as the whir of the machine becomes louder, the slave does too. Its’ moans reverberate throughout the floor, becoming louder as time goes by. It’s all quiet from the observers, all you can hear is the breathing and moans of a man- or, thing- denied. The first orgasm comes within a few minutes, with a scream and a rustle of chains, indicating nothing but movement from the slave. 

 

It continues like this, for hours.

 

 It’s hard to look away, it’s hard to leave. Staring as it slowly unravels with each passing hour, as every orgasm wracks its’ body. By the end of my observation, 6 hours worth of watching it, yet I still found it hard to depart. That’s the draw of this exhibition. You are just as desperate to witness it as it is to be watched, to be used, to be fucked. 

 

Day 2 of the exhibition is very much like the first, the portraits still all hung up the wall, and the slave secured to one spot on the floor. There’s a small bowl on the floor where the slave has been relieving himself since then as well, and presumably empty. Day 2 however is different, with the floor being filled with desperate cries for someone- anyone- to rescue the slave from its’ position now. Just a moment of rest is its’ only request that day, repeated over and over, to never be granted. Eventually these cries dull down to quiet sobs and sniffles, and eventually- silence. It’s a mystery to us observers why it has fallen asleep, yet it does anyway, the machine still fucking into it with earnest, no signs of stopping. The slave, of course, is spared nothing. Watching its’ sleeping body tense before spilling cum into the bowl below is quite a sight to behold. 

 

As evidenced by Imai’s photographs and this exhibition itself- he is a cruel master and we are just privy to how little he shows us of it. 

Chapter Text

Hmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmm

Chapter Text

Issay had to admit that he was surprised when Atsushi first spoke of it. Only mildly because of what he knew about Atsushi’s sexual preferences. Though he honestly didn’t expect Atsushi to mention something like this over drinks right after their recording session.

Perhaps, it has been too long since they last spent this much time together. Or perhaps, with all that alcohol involved, the younger man had a slip of the tongue, accidentally blurting out something that he would’ve otherwise never said. But it didn’t matter what it was that motivated Atsushi to bring up such an idea. All that mattered was that Atsushi was serious about it.

Issay simply didn’t realise how exactly serious until Atsushi called him and said that he had booked them a night at a love hotel in Ni-Chome.

“I’ll… figure something out if you’re not comfortable,” Atsushi added, his voice sounding soft and hesitant through the speaker.

‘Figure something out’? Does that mean that he intended to go through with it no matter who it was with?

“I’ll meet you at the station,” Issay replied. He didn’t like the idea of leaving Atsushi’s safety in the hands of anyone else. Not when he knew exactly what Atsushi wanted.

Still, thinking about it made Issay nervous enough that he couldn’t spend the earlier half of the day at home. Dressed simply in his usual slacks, a simple shirt and a long overcoat, he left straight for Shinjuku and ended up sitting alone in a corner of an eatery until it was their agreed time.

Despite the crowd density in the station, spotting Atsushi was easy enough. Issay would know that figure anywhere. As he went over, Atsushi, too, spotted Issay and gave him a tense smile.

Meeting halfway, Issay spoke first. “Have you eaten?”

“No,” came the quiet reply. Hands in his pockets, Atsushi already looked embarrassed with the way he could barely look at Issay for anything longer than a second while walking with him.

“Do you want to grab a bite before…?”

“No,” Atsushi repeated. “I don’t really have the appetite…”

Issay heard a growl from Atsushi’s stomach. A smile tugged at his lips.

“Maybe afterwards,” Atsushi quickly added. “I can’t really swallow-”

“Afterwards then. We have time,” Issay nodded. Atsushi shouldn’t have to make more excuses. “I suppose we’re heading over directly?”

Atsushi nodded back.

“Alright then,” Issay acknowledged then led the way. He knew where they were going. It was reputed for protecting the privacy of their visitors and for this reason, he used to frequent it himself. Though, he never did bring Atsushi there.

Ruminating over Atsushi’s knowledge of this place was pointless. Issay knew that. But ruminate was all he could do as they walked in silence. It wasn’t what he would call their usual comfortable silence either. Perhaps it was just him, but there was a certain tension in the air that filled the space between them.

Check-in was simple. Or, so Issay thought. They used to write their requests and booking references on little scraps of paper that they passed to the anonymous person behind the counter but that was gone now. The counter was still there. The shuttered receptionist window with the small sliding door at its base was still there. But there was no paper nor pen. Instead, a machine had been affixed to the counter.

Seeing it, Atsushi let out a soft “ah” and stepped forward. He entered the booking reference and once it was processed, a key with a tag affixed to it, indicating the room number it belonged to, dropped into the collection box. Atsushi took it and they went into the elevator situated a little further inside the reception area.

“I guess they made sure to keep up with the times,” Issay remarked as the elevator doors closed. “How did you know about that system?” he asked Atsushi. “You’ve been here before?”

“What? No,” Atsushi answered quickly, seemingly embarrassed. “I heard about this place and found their website… and it mentioned the change,” he explained.

“Ah, I see,” Issay nodded. Hearing that made suddenly made it easier to breathe. So, Atsushi hadn’t been here before.

“But… You have, right?”

Issay sucked in a breath. He should’ve expected the question to be tossed back to him. And considering what he said earlier… After taking a moment, Issay looked over and met Atsushi’s eyes, nodding. As the elevator doors opened, he exited the space and mumbled, “Of course.”

Pausing outside the elevator, Issay watched Atsushi step out, now looking particularly conflicted as he did so. Something came over Issay at that moment and he wordlessly extended a hand to Atsushi, who looked at it, surprised. Neither man moved until Atsushi slowly but surely lifted his own hand and placed it in Issay’s palm.

Clasping Atsushi’s hand tight, Issay walked down the corridor with him, holding hands for the first time in what could very well be more than a decade. Atsushi softly told him the room number and he nodded absentmindedly as his mind began to wander again.

So many things had changed. Issay was now the one with long hair while Atsushi had short hair, for one. Then there was their stature, Atsushi’s family, the world at large. Yet here, right now, walking together like this felt no different from all those years ago when there was so much less to care about and so much more to hope for. But of course, it was nothing more than a fleeting spell that was broken the moment they entered the room and let go of each other.

Almost immediately, that same nervous tension returned. Issay turned away from Atsushi as he took his coat off. Hanging it on the stand in the room, he busied himself with folding up his sleeves as he tried to distract himself from the uneasy silence between them.

“Are you going to wash yourself?” Issay asked quietly without looking.

“Yes,” Atsushi answered softly as a rustle of clothing hit the floor.

“I’ll prepare the bed then,” Issay said.

Atsushi responded with a soft hum of acknowledgement followed by the sound of the bathroom door closing.

Removing his shoes, Issay paused to take a good look at the room they've ended up in. As one would've expected in a place like this, the furnishings were elaborate but not luxurious and a little over the top. He didn't know whether Atsushi picked this one on purpose or not, but if he didn't, then it was oddly serendipitous that they ended up here.

Issay assumed that the theme of the room was dark. Or gothic, probably. Despite everything, he chuckled to himself as he scanned the old European-styled cabinets and drawers. The dark wood and embellishments looked good but upon opening them, the lightness of what must be plywood gave away its quality.

The bed, though. It was a large, four-poster bed set in the middle of the room draped with what looked like velvet curtains in dark purples and reds. It was so bad yet so good. Issay could hardly keep a grin off his face as he tugged at the sheets and pulled the blankets off. The head and footboard had steel rungs in them though. It broke the aesthetic, but they would come in handy. 

With that set, Issay started moving, inspecting the furniture in the room for signs of foul play. Reputed or not, it was still a risk. He couldn’t care less if he was with anyone else but with Atsushi, it was a completely different situation. Only when he was satisfied that the room was untampered did Issay start to take out the things they would need for what Atsushi requested.

Lubricant, ropes, handcuffs… what else? He opened the clothes cabinet and pulled a drawer open. Stockings. Probably. Issay took his own socks off and stuffed them into his shoes. The black stockings might be a better option. He was picking up Atsushi's clothes and folding them when the bathroom door opened.

Issay looked over and saw Atsushi coming out in a white bathrobe. As he clutched the collar of the robe, he slowly came out, scanning the room with that unsure look on his face again. Their eyes met and Issay furrowed his brow in concern. Atsushi quickly looked away, refusing any possibility of a question.

Issay pursed his lips and exhaled. "Sit first," he said, gesturing to the bed. "I'll be using the bathroom."

Atsushi didn't say anything in response, or maybe Issay didn't hear him. Whatever it was, it ceased to matter when Issay closed the door behind him and sighed. He looked at his blurred reflection in the fogged-up mirror. This was starting to feel like a bad idea. But… better him than someone else, right?

With another heavy sigh, Issay stripped and took a quick shower before running the bath and then dressing again, wearing the thigh-high stockings under his slacks this time. He stood in front of the mirror, staring at himself as he ran his fingers through his hair and primped. What was he doing here?

Issay turned around and leaned against the sink’s countertop. His eyes shifted between looking at the closed door, that Atsushi was somewhere behind of, and the running water which steadily filled the bath. Now that he was alone again, he really didn’t quite know what to think. Something in him just didn’t feel quite… right.

Before that thought could get too far, the bath filled up high enough and Issay went to turn off the tap. Now, he had to go back out. Issay sighed and ran a hand through his hair. Well, better that than sitting in here. He marched forward and opened the bathroom door.

Atsushi looked up at him. He was seated slouched on the side of the bed with a slight crease in his brow as he held a sealed condom between his fingers. Did he expect Issay to use it? Issay didn't intend to, but if Atsushi asked, he would be more than willing, of course.

As Issay approached, Atsushi put the condom down and averted his eyes. Standing in front of him, Issay traced Atsushi's jaw, guiding him to look up and meet his gaze. Issay could see the indecision in Atsushi's eyes. He couldn't say that he didn't feel the same.

"We don't have to do anything if you changed your mind," Issay said quietly.

“No.” The look in Atsushi’s eyes immediately firmed before he closed them and shook his head. “We’re both grown men now. You don’t have to treat me so delicately,” he muttered, sounding somewhat melancholic.

“Suit yourself,” Issay responded, his voice quiet. Holding Atsushi’s chin in his hand, he ordered, “Strip.”

As if startled by Issay’s sudden change in tone, Atsushi looked stunned for a moment, averting his gaze before slowly tugging the knot at his waist loose. But even as the sash fell away, he continued to hold the robe close.

Something didn’t feel right. “Take it off,” Issay said, softening his tone slightly.

Atsushi seemed to freeze as he slowly looked up at Issay, eyes wide as his clammy hand closed around Issay’s forearm.

Immediately changing his approach, Issay knelt down and asked, “What’s wrong?”

“I look nothing like how you’d remember me,” Atsushi whispered. “I’m not-”

“Acchan, do you really think that matters to me?” Issay asked as he caressed Atsushi’s cheek.

Atsushi slowly shook his head.

Standing up, Issay hugged Atsushi, letting him bury his face in Issay’s abdomen. So much for not needing 'delicate treatment'. “Acchan, Acchan, Acchan,” he hummed, swaying from side to side. Issay then paused before coaxing once more, “Won’t you strip for me?”

This time, Atsushi shrugged the robe away, letting it fall off his shoulders and slipping his arms out as it piled onto the bed. Issay let him take his time and waited until Atsushi had completely removed himself from it before stepping back to look at him.

Issay found himself smiling as his eyes got immediately drawn to the black lace panties, the only thing that Atsushi wore. It was probably the long scar on his abdomen that made Atsushi feel so self-conscious, but it had faded so much by now that Issay barely noticed it. Eyes meeting Atsushi’s, Issay breathed, “You’re more than enough for me.”

Atsushi cast his eyes down again, this time shy rather than distressed. At least he was feeling better than all the previous times he did that over the course of tonight. Feeling reassured, Issay stepped forward and picked up the fabric handcuffs which he had laid on the bed. Atsushi heard the light clinking of the metal chain and turned. He took one long look at the cuffs and then met Issay’s eyes before giving him a small nod. That was clear enough.

They first put the cuffs around Atsushi's wrists. After making sure they weren't on too tightly, Atsushi shifted towards the centre of the bed and Issay moved with him, piling pillows under Atsushi as he lay down before affixing the other end of each cuff to the rungs of the headboard bars.

It took a while to make things relatively comfortable for Atsushi but once that was done, Issay retreated and started with the rope. He wasn't going to do much with it though. He was only going to keep Atsushi's legs spread open. Issay bound the right ankle and calf up and then put the rope through the rungs of the footboard. Stretching it across, he then used the remaining rope to bind the left ankle and calf.

"How is it?" Issay asked, getting up onto the bed to stand between Atsushi's legs. "Can you feel your digits?"

Atsushi flexed his fingers and wiggled his toes before quietly answering, "Yes."

"Good," Issay responded as he sat down on the top of the bed's footboard.

Folding his arms, Issay looked down his nose at Atsushi, holding eye contact with him as he stuck a foot out and rested it on Atsushi's crotch. He dragged his toes over the lace, the sole piece of fabric on Atsushi’s body as he took his time to feel Atsushi under the lace and his stockings. Atsushi breathed loudly as if forcing himself to take deep breaths in his apprehension.

Issay chose to ignore his cues as he continued to move languidly, sometimes curling his toes tightly, other times tapping his foot and nudging Atsushi with it. Eventually, he got tired with the silence and muttered, “It just occurred to me…”

Atsushi swallowed. 

“Why did you call me for this?” Issay asked as he dropped his foot under Atsushi and pressed the top of his foot against Atsushi’s scrotum. As Issay gradually increased the pressure of his foot against Atsushi, the younger man sucked in a sharp breath.

“Don’t you normally go to your Hisashi?” Issay asked, shifting his foot atop of Atsushi again as he stood up once more. He could feel Atsushi’s cock under his foot, already growing hard. Issay curled his toes and gripped it. “Was he unavailable?” he taunted, letting some of his frustration out.

Atsushi furrowed his brow and squeezed his eyes shut. He shook his head with a whine.

“I’ll always be your second choice, won’t I?” Issay spat as he pushed the ball of his foot down on Atsushi, pressing into his front.

Atsushi bit his lower lip and arched his back, as if trying to do something about the pain he was undoubtedly feeling. Issay held his foot there, watching Atsushi squirm for a bit before lifting it. Atsushi let out an audible gasp of relief which sounded vaguely like a ‘no’.

Not intending to give Atsushi reprieve for long, Issay then hovered his heel over Atsushi’s scrotum. “Hm? Wait a minute,” Issay hummed. “You’re right, I’m not your second choice.”

Atsushi watched Issay quietly, chest rising and falling with his heavy breathing.

“I’m your third,” Issay said flatly as he dropped his heel, making Atsushi groan against his gritted teeth. The groan escalated to a short yell as Issay grinded his heel in. “I’m your third,” he repeated. “After your wife who wouldn’t even do this for you!”

Atsushi cried out again when Issay pressed his foot down, adding weight. As Issay roughly rubbed against Atsushi’s crotch, he began to wonder how much of Atsushi’s distress was because of the stepping and how much was because of his impromptu monologue. Did Atsushi really believe him?

Whether or not Atsushi did, Issay couldn’t quite tell with the younger man writhing under him. Issay, obviously, switched it up a little once in a while; sometimes gripping with his toes, sometimes kicking Atsushi, but not too hard. Issay only kicked Atsushi with full strength when he aimed for his inner thigh.

Atsushi was on the verge of tears when Issay paused and gave him a long hard look. “Fancy you treating me like this,” he muttered, continuing his monologue.

“After all these years, I thought I meant more to you,” Issay added, playacting vengefully stomping his foot down on Atsushi’s front. Of course, there was still enough force to cause an impact.

“It doesn’t even have to be all that much more,” Issay went on, now digging his heel back down against Atsushi. “Maybe just. A little. More,” he jerked his foot in with each pause, “than a damn on-call sex toy-”

“No!” Atsushi finally yelled with a violent shake of his head as his body fought against the restraints while wracked with dry heaving sobs. 

As much as it hurts to see Atsushi so miserable, Issay was honestly relieved for it meant that he wouldn’t have to be mean for all that much longer. Just a bit more…

Putting a scowl on his face, Issay continued, “How dare you deny it when-”

“Issay, no!” Atsushi cried, cutting Issay off. Well, that was it. It really didn’t take much more. Atsushi was well and fully bawling now.

Removing his foot, Issay dropped to his knees and leaned over Atsushi. He made soft shushing noises as he reached for the cuffs on Atsushi’s wrists. The moment Issay yanked the stiff velcro open, Atsushi wrapped his arms around Issay and latched onto him, holding on tightly as he cried 'sorry's into Issay’s shoulder and chest.

Issay could only hug Atsushi and rub his back as he cried. He wasn't sure if this was what Atsushi was gunning for with this request but he couldn't exactly ask now anyway. If it wasn't though… Issay cursed mentally while whispering hushed reassurances into Atsushi's ear. If it wasn't what Atsushi wanted, he would feel even worse than how he already felt now. He didn't even like hurting Atsushi like this. Well, not without reason.

It took a while but Atsushi's crying eventually calmed until he was simply whining softly with each occasional sob. Now twirling Atsushi's hair in his fingers, Issay kissed the top of his head and whispered, "Better?"

"I never meant for you to feel like this," Atsushi's voice shook as he spoke.

Before Atsushi could continue, Issay quickly added with a soft chuckle, "It's not real, Acchan. I meant none of what I said."

Atsushi snapped his head up. Wet eyes wide in bewilderment, he breathed, "Then why did you say all that?"

Pressing his head against Atsushi's as he gazed into his eyes, Issay replied, "You asked me to hurt you."

Atsushi's face began to crumple up as he whimpered, "Not like that!" 

Issay shushed, gently wiping away the tears that fell with his thumbs and kissing Atsushi's face. He comforted Atsushi, hugging him and letting the younger man bury his face in his chest again. Comforting Atsushi like this at least made him feel slightly better too.

"I thought you hated me," Atsushi blubbered, his fingers digging into Issay's back.

"Don't be silly, Acchan," Issay chuckled. "I could never," he muttered, nuzzling against Atsushi's hair and giving him another kiss.

Atsushi simply rubbed his face against Issay, muttering something unintelligible as he went quiet.

With Atsushi calming down, Issay wanted to sit back up but he was sure that Atsushi couldn't. Not after what he had been doing to his body. He wouldn't be able to reach the rope to free Atsushi while lying with him like this though.

"Acchan, do you want me to untie you?"

"No."

"What?" Issay blurted in confusion. No?

"I want you," Atsushi whined, hugging Issay tighter.

"Ah." Now that made more sense. But… “Acchan, I don’t… think you can,” Issay muttered.

“What do you mean?”

“I mean,” Issay put his hand on Atsushi’s chest and slowly slid it down his body, reaching towards Atsushi’s crotch. Gently putting his hand over the lace, he watched Atsushi’s cheeks tense for a fraction of a second and said, “I’m afraid you’re still too sore.”

“No!” Atsushi denied. “I can take-!” Issay slid his hand lower and Atsushi’s words got stuck in his throat. Atsushi’s brow furrowed and he clenched Issay’s shirt tighter in his fists. Forcing himself to take a deep breath, Atsushi repeated breathlessly, “I can take it.”

“Acchan,” Issay shook his head with a soft smile. “There’ll always be a next time,” he said, stroking Atsushi’s hair with one hand while lightly touching Atsushi’s groin with his other.

“It’s been years ,” Atsushi lamented, tears forming in his eyes. “ Please . I want you.”

Issay looked into Atsushi’s large eyes, glistening with tears as he pleaded. He could feel himself wavering inside.

“I know you’re hard for me too,” Atsushi whispered.

Issay cursed internally. Was he ever not? He took a deep breath and sighed. Closing his eyes he muttered, “Let me get up.”

Atsushi loosened his grip without hesitation. Released from the embrace, Issay gave Atsushi one more peck on his cheek and sat up. Pursing his lips, Issay reached over to Atsushi’s left leg and tugged on one end of the remaining rope. The knot came apart easily enough, but Issay had to unravel the binding and so he did. Freeing both legs, Issay held them as he took a closer look at Atsushi’s skin, making sure that there were no grazes nor accidental cuts because of the ropes.

Satisfied that Atsushi was fine, Issay put his legs down and asked, “Can you turn around? On your knees, back to me.”

Atsushi nodded despite moving slowly and wincing ever so slightly when a sore spot ached. With a hand on Atsushi ready to support him, Issay let him take his time. He was sure that Atsushi was in pain despite his tough front. Only when Atsushi was finally on all fours with his rear facing Issay did he reach for the lube and put it next to him with the sealed condom on standby.

Putting his hands on Atsushi, Issay moved carefully as he slipped the lacey underwear off the younger man’s hips. Too quick and he would end up causing Atsushi unnecessary pain. Nevertheless, Issay could hear Atsushi discreetly sucking in a breath as the underwear came off. Shushing Atsushi gently, Issay rubbed circles his back before spreading Atsushi’s asscheeks apart and putting his tongue to work.

When Issay’s tongue when over his rim Atsushi immediately whimpered, but this time, it was from pleasure rather than pain. Issay couldn’t see but he sensed Atsushi dipping lower to rest the top half of his torso on the pillows before him. As Issay pushed his tongue in, Atsushi’s voice rang out. While quickly muffled by pillows, Atsushi’s noises continued to escalate in pitch with Issay’s continued licking and prodding, only going silent when Issay paused.

Atsushi peeked out of the pillows and turned to look at Issay. Noticing this, Issay smiled back as he undid the buttons on his shirt with one hand. Atsushi squinted his eyes a little, indicating a smile as he continued watching Issay undress. Issay held Atsushi’s gaze as he took his shirt off and set it aside. Next, he moved on to his pants, stripping it off to reveal the borrowed stockings that he wore. Seeing it, Atsushi made noise.

“Hm?” Issay cocked his head to the side as he looked curiously at Atsushi.

When Issay’s fingers began to bunch up the stockings in them, Atsushi uttered, “No!”

Issay raised his eyebrows at Atsushi, struggling to understand.

“Keep them on,” Atsushi muttered, taking a long look at the slender silhouette of Issay’s legs.

Issay broke into a smile. “Alright.”

Atsushi’s eyes squinted smaller. He was clearly pleased.

Issay continued with the preparation; taking his own underwear off and setting it aside before putting the condom on. As Issay dispensed lubricant onto his fingers, Atsushi turned to bury his face in pillows again. He looked like he was bracing himself.

Shifting forward, Issay slid his coated fingers into Atsushi. With a hand on Atsushi's side, he could feel the minute tensing and releasing of Atsushi's muscles when he added the second and third finger to ease Atsushi open. Issay noticed that he didn't need all that much time nor effort to stretch Atsushi though. Maybe Atsushi did his own preparation before meeting him.

Once satisfied that Atsushi was ready, Issay removed his fingers and rose up. He dragged his hand up and down Atsushi's side, caressing him as he put his tip against Atsushi and pushed in. Atsushi let out a soft whine in response, shifting to angle his hips closer towards Issay as he began thrusting.

Issay bent forward, planting kisses along Atsushi's back as he moved with a steady rhythm. With a constant nagging worry about Atsushi in the back of his head, Issay couldn't quite focus on his own pleasure. The last thing he wanted to do was add to Atsushi's discomfort.

"More…" Atsushi moaned, his voice suddenly clear and audible.

"Hm?"

"More… Issay…"

Reaching under Atsushi, Issay gingerly closed his fingers around Atsushi's undoubtedly still-sore erection. There was a soft whimper from Atsushi, followed by a jerk of Atsushi hips, pushing hard against Issay again. Did he want it rougher? Issay had been holding back but if Atsushi so asked…

Issay began thrusting harder while stroking Atsushi's erection with conscious restraint. Atsushi's muffled noises grew more fervent as Issay thumbed Atsushi's tip in time with his thrusting. He could hear the frustration in Atsushi's voice as he jerked his hips again.

Chuckling to himself, Issay made a ring with his thumb and index finger. Now, he stroked Atsushi in tandem to his movements. Atsushi let out a series of whines against the pillows. It looks like he appreciated Issay finally giving him what he wanted.

As Issay neared his limit, he could feel Atsushi twitching in his hand and his insides squeezing with each moan he let out. He felt a smile tug at his lips. Leaning forward, Issay wrapped his other arm around Atsushi’s waist, hugging him as he thrust into Atsushi as hard as he could until Atsushi spilt his seed into his palm. That ejaculation made Atsushi tighten around Issay, adding just enough stimulation to push him over the edge to give him that release.

Issay let out a low groan as he felt the pleasure spread through his body. Feeling slightly overwhelmed, his grip on Atsushi grew firmer and planted his face in Atsushi’s back in a bid to maximise the amount of physical contact they had. But it was a bit difficult in this position.

Issay pulled out and let Atsushi lean to the side to lie down on the bed. Breathing deeply, Atsushi was still while Issay cleaned his hand and tossed the condom. When Issay’s eyes met his, Atsushi smiled.

“What is it?” Issay smiled back.

“I like your stockings,” Atsushi commented, smiling wider as Issay came towards him. “Don’t ever take them off.”

“Not even in the bath?”

“Not even then.”

“If you say so,” Issay chuckled, reaching over and putting his arms around Atsushi. “Do you feel hurt anywhere? Can you walk?” he asked.

“No, just… aching in all sorts of places. Where are we going?” Atsushi asked, looking somewhat disappointed.

“The bath.”

“But I… hold me?” Atsushi whined softly.

“I can do that in the bath too,” Issay chuckled, helping the reluctant man up. “And the warm water will soothe your aches, come on,” he coaxed. 

Atsushi let out a quiet groan as he got to his feet. Supporting Atsushi, Issay held him close by his side as they slowly made their way back into the bathroom. He was glad to find that the bathwater was indeed still warm when he helped Atsushi into the tub. As water overflowed and spilt out, Issay tied his hair up and got in behind Atsushi, stretching his legs out while Atsushi leaned back into his embrace.

Getting comfortable, Issay tilted his head back and rested against the wall. He had one arm around Atsushi’s waist, holding him while the other rested on the edge of the tub. Relaxing with his eyes closed, he felt Atsushi’s fingers idly tracing the drenched stockings on his legs while his other hand interlocked fingers with Issay’s at his abdomen.

“I missed this,” Atsushi muttered, his head coming to rest on Issay’s shoulder. “I missed you.”

Opening his eyes, Issay found Atsushi looking up at him with longing in his eyes. With a small smile on his face, Issay leaned in to give him a kiss. But only briefly before he gazed into Atsushi’s eyes again. There was so much he wanted to say to Atsushi but in this moment, all he could muster was, “I’ll always be here for you.”

Chapter Text

Toll didn’t have a particular plan for how he was going to go about this all. There was just so much to work with, so many possibilities. All the possible options piled up in his head as he set up the first angle. He had to order each action carefully, otherwise some things he would be able to do later on. Atsushi has been so open with him about his inexperience- in multiple areas- that it just made it all so much more exciting. Speaking of, Atsushi was looked gorgeous when he was asleep.

 

Toll had been lazy with the man’s hair when he tied the younger man down, but with the shift of his head, ebony hair splayed across both his shoulders and the bed. His skin was so perfectly pale and blemish free, his parted lips the slightest shade of pink. Still all but for the soft rise and fall of his chest as he breathed. Spread so wide by ropes extended to each corner of the bed, his entire body just open and inviting- practically begging for Toll to ravage it. That’s partially why Toll had chosen him, out of all the applicants he had gotten for this coveted lead role, his face was the nicest out of the bunch. If only the poor boy knew what he was getting himself into.

 

Once the camera was set to the correct angle for the scene, Toll clicked the record button. The red button on the front came on instantaneously. It was time. Toll changed sides from behind the camera to the front, and the nearest corner of the bed, before taking a wallet out of his pocket. It wasn’t his of course, it was Atsushi’s. Toll thumbed through it quickly before finally retrieving Atsushi’s drivers license, flashing it to the camera. 

 

“Sakurai Atsushi from Gunma prefecture is our star today. Born March 7th, 1966. Ah,” Toll pauses, realizing that there slight age difference between them- shorter than he initially thought- “A film debut at 20 years old. Not that it matters. Pretty little thing though.” Toll turns his head back again to Atsushi’s wallet. There’s nothing identifying else in there, so it’s just a sign to move on with it. Toll drops the wallet on the floor, before standing up and stepping out of the frame. He makes quick work of removing his pants and stroking his dick until it’s hard enough to do anything. 

 

Surprisingly Atsushi has stayed asleep throughout all of his talking, but it was time to wake him up now. Oh well, it had to be done in order to get on with the rest of the film. Toll was able to climb over the other man’s sleeping form with relative ease and line is cock up with his hole, but when their skin finally touched was when Atsushi was finally coming to. 

 

There’s a fair bit of resistance from him, to be expected with no lube and a virgin, but Toll continued anyway. Atsushi was awake, with his eyes screwed shut. Due to the suddenness of the situation, all he could do is open his mouth in a silent scream. He pulled at his restraints too, kicking his legs in a pointless attempt to get away. It was slow and dry, but Toll was eventually able to slide into him all the way. Toll paused his hips, which gave Atsushi enough time to give the usual begging. It’s nothing he hasn’t heard before, but his voice is so wonderfully quiet, that Toll isn’t even sure that the microphone can pick it up.

 

Atsushi is offered a bit of a reprieve before Toll starts moving again. There’s no real purpose behind it, so Toll starts a punishing pace from the very beginning. Atsushi’s silence turns it to screams that ring out throughout the whole room, and Toll just lets him. He’s gotten feedback before from clients that enjoy hearing them scream. The pain never turns to pleasure for the younger man though, and his cock remains limp between his legs. Toll feels similarly, because it takes a long time for the sensations to finally be enough for him to cum, and he makes a mental note to not pick virgins again for this.

 

When Toll does cum though, he leaves it to just leak out of Atsushi slowly, as cumming on his stomach would interfere with what he had planned next. There was a decent amount of blood streaked across his cock when he pulled out, which was ironic. Atsushi’s own blood didn’t even help slick anything up. Toll excused himself, getting off the bed. The younger man is left to thrash against his bondage, it’s pointless anyway. He can’t get away even if he wanted to. 

 

Toll picks up the same pair of boxers he was wearing prior and slips them back on, he’s not planning on engaging in that act again. The viewers liked it, but he has no real pleasure coming from it. Rapes are never as satisfying, but it pays the bills. Toll moves over to the camera, clicking the record button to stop the current session, and then adjusting the angle and height of it on the tripod, before moving the whole thing closer. He has to stand on the tips of his toes the look through the viewfinder. Atsushi is yelling the whole time, and it’s a tad annoying. The noise just bounces off the walls and amplifies. He’s easy to ignore though, his words don’t make much sense. Sentences run together, but they’re all variations of the same thing- just asking to be let go. It’s a pointless request, so Toll goes on his way, bending down once again to pick up his pants. He grasps his belt by the buckle and pulls, and it comes away easily.

 

That really upsets Atsushi now, and somehow the man is louder than he was before. It’s almost painful to listen to, so now he’ll have to warn customers about that. Who would imagine, too much screaming as a bad thing. Toll clicks the record button on the camera before taking his place on the opposite side of the bed. The lense is pointed right at Atsushi’s stomach, so he couldn’t get too inventive with anything.

 

Toll places a hand on the actor’s stomach, which makes him quiet down for a moment. His skin is soft and supple, and it’s almost kind of cute. The caress lasts less than a second thought, before Toll retracts his hand. There’s a pause, and then he raises his arm with the belt, bringing it down on Atsushi’s stomach. Screaming follows, through all the other strikes that rain down on Atsushi’s soft flesh. There’s a few times that Toll strikes the other man’s ribs, which he probably shouldn’t do, so he has to stop and readjust how he brings his arm down to ensure his aim is true to where he wants to hit. That can all just be edited out later.

 

Atsushi’s begging turns interesting the more Toll beats him, and it does nothing to make him want to stop. The younger man’s voice screams out to his daddy; that he’ll be a good boy this time, the best boy, he’ll do anything to make daddy happy again . The words are repeated again and again as he went on and all it did was annoy Toll more. Striking him became repetitive and boring, and the filmmaker’s mind begins to wander. And it hit him.

 

“You’ll really be a good boy?” Toll pauses his strikes, his arm falling limp at his side. Atsushi shouts his reply- a resounding yes. “One second.” Toll moves back again to the camera, clicking the record button off. Adjusting the camera again this time angled towards his upper body. Once the technical aspect is perfected, Toll turns away from Atsushi and towards his gear bag, searching through it. There’s a clutter of excess rope in there, but after a few minutes of digging Toll retrieves the knife- originally meant to set the boy free. Well, now he’s just setting him free in a different way. When he turns back around, Toll hesistants. The angle is no good. He adjusts the camera again, bringing it parallel to where Atsushi’s head lies. Toll spends a long time thinking over the angle and height of the camera, how he’s going to sit, adjusting the height of the tripod and the incline of the camera before he’s finally satisfied. Atsushi is a good boy through his deliberation, quiet and waiting. Toll finally clicks the record button, before carefully crawling onto the bed and up Atsushi’s body and sitting on the man’s ribs. He hesitates for a second, checking the camera again to insure that he’s not blocking the view. 

 

He’s sure it’s alright, so he places his hand over Atsushi’s mouth before bringing the knife up slowly, hoping the younger man won’t see it and freak out again. The tip of the knife barely grazes the side of his neck before Atsushi begins to thrash, trying to shake Toll’s hand off of him.

 

There’s a brief flash of anger that courses through Toll’s body, so he hastily forces the blade into his neck, puncturing his right carotid artery, before twisting the knife and dragging it across the rest of Atsushi’s throat. He never had the chance to scream. The sheets underneath Atsushi are dyed red quickly, and the metallic stench of blood fills Toll’s nostrils just as quickly. 

 

When Toll sits back to escape it, he admires his work. Sure, the gash is quite unsightly and jagged- but the rest in quite pretty. Atsushi’s long ebony hair is spread across the sheets, draping down his shoulders at some point and underneath him- it suddenly soaked with the blood of its owner. His face is a ghostly white, contrasting the leaking wound on his neck and the darkness of his hair. Atsushi’s eyes are wide in shock, staring at where Toll once was. His mouth is just barely parted from what Toll assumes to be his last breath. 

 

The view in front of him is so gruesome, yet the more he stares he finds so many beautiful things. He can’t bring himself to move further from his greatest masterpiece, wanting to take in as much as he can in the present before it becomes nothing but a memory captured on film.

Chapter Text

Missing in Action

Chapter Text

Missing in Action Too

Chapter Text

Still Missing in Action

Chapter Text

Ever since his first year, Hide had always been teased and called a pervert. He really wasn’t quite sure how he got stuck with that reputation but he had a feeling that it was Yutaka who got that started. After all, they did fight on the first day of school.

Although they were technically on friendly terms now. Ever since they ended in the same class together, they had been talking more and getting along. But still, Hide wasn’t so sure that Yutaka’s amicable flair was all that benign. That was probably what compelled Hide to ask Yutaka about the ‘pervert’ thing earlier today. He didn’t expect Yutaka to turn around and challenge him instead.

“I’ll tell you if you'll do whatever I say for a whole day," Yutaka said what that typical, annoying, impish grin on his face.

Hide wasn't sure if he wanted to know that badly but he said yes anyway. How bad could it be?

It was all simple enough when the day started. Little things like passing Yutaka's book to the front for him, picking up his pencil from the ground. Sure, Hide sat on the other end of the classroom and sure, he got a few curious looks from their classmates but these requests weren't too hard to fulfil.

Then came break time when Yutaka asked Hide to buy yakisoba bread from the snack stand in school. That was a little difficult. It always sold out in the first ten minutes of break so Hide had to run at full sprint to get that damned bread. Even then, he almost got into a fight at the stand for the last piece. He ultimately won at the cost of getting a graze on his cheek but still, a win was a win.

Although Hide did notice that Yutaka looked a little discomposed when he saw the graze. But just for a split second, so might have just been imagining it because right after receiving the bread, Yutaka had Hide go off again to get him canned coffee.

And so the day went on with Hide running around running every possible errand a person could think of until it was time for soccer practice. Or so Hide thought. He ended up getting dragged to the school library after classes were dismissed. Once there, Yutaka asked him to get on all fours, to let him use Hide as a step stool to get some book on a higher shelf.

Hide was hesitant about it. Though, they were in the library. In other words, no one ever came here. In fact, neither of them had ever come in here except on occasions when classes were held here for one reason or another. Yet here Hide was with Yutaka and his request of turning Hide into his step stool.

Despite his initial discomfort, Hide crouched down and let Yutaka stand on him. It felt kind of humiliating but as long as no one else was around and Yutaka kept this to himself, he could live with it. Yutaka seemed to have sensed Hide’s resignation to these circumstances for after he stepped off, he proceeded to sit on Hide’s back.

“Hey,” Hide grumbled. “In case you’ve forgotten, I’ve got practice-”

“I know,” Yutaka interrupted as he flipped a page. He probably wasn’t really reading anyway.

“You’re not gonna let me go?”

“I don’t know,” Yutaka shrugged. “I’m sure the pervy jock Hide can afford missing one day’s practise anyway.”

“Again with that,” Hide groaned, rolling his eyes.

“Oh, come on, you like getting called a pervert, don’t you?” Yutaka laughed, closing the book with a snap.

“No. I. Don’t,” Hide growled. “And it’s more like you’re the pervert anyway!”

“What on earth gave you that idea?” Yutaka scoffed.

“You like watching practice, don’t you?” Hide returned.

“Says who?” Yutaka challenged, looking down at Hide with a glare.

“I know  you’re there, Yuta,” Hide said. “I’ve seen you sitting there on more occasions than I can count.”

“Well, I’m not there watching now, am I?” Yutaka smirked.

“Neither am I, huh?” Hide retorted, frustrated at missing practice.

For some reason, Yutaka’s eyes grew wide at those words. "So?" he questioned. "What about it?"

"Do you have something against me?" Hide asked.

"No?" Yutaka intoned. "Why would you say that?" he added quickly as he stood up.

Making a move to stand too, Hide said, "Well, first, you started calling me a pervert. Then- oof!"

Yutaka stepped on him again. "Stay down!" he snapped. "I didn't say you could get up."

"Tch." Hide felt Yutaka's feet on his back again. "Then, you have me doing all these things for you-"

"You could've easily said no," Yutaka pointed out. "You really are one heck of a stable stand," he remarked.

"Well, thanks ," Hide intoned sarcastically. "Good to know there are results from the training which you are keeping me from !"

"Aw, it's not that big a deal, is it?" Yutaka teased, ruffling Hide's hair as he sat down on his back again.

"Don't! Do that!" Hide snapped, shaking his head violently in protest.

"What a cute puppy," Yutaka laughed, patting his head instead.

"Stop it!" Hide rocked to the side, throwing Yutaka onto the floor and pinning him down. Now hovering over Yutaka, he repeated, "I said, stop it!"

Stuck to the floor, the stunned Yutaka stared up at Hide with large eyes, unable to speak. The silence that ensued was tense and terribly uncomfortable. Yutaka always had some sort of smartmouthed jab for every situation so why wasn’t he saying anything now?

“Why aren’t you saying anything?!” Hide asked, hoping to break the tension.

“Uh…” Yutaka's eyes darted away awkwardly as if fumbling for words in his head.

“You got something against me?” Hide questioned. Why wouldn't Yutaka explain himself?

“Um…” Yutaka glanced at Hide multiple times.

“What?!” 

Finally, Yutaka met Hide's eyes straight on and blurted, “Wanna join a band?”

Chapter Text

Throughout their short commute from the hotel to the bullet train station, Sakurai had been irritable. Clicking his tongue and grumbling and tossing glares at any poor one who would accidentally bump into him. Funny enough, there were more of those people than usual today. The crowd was no denser than the standard expected size, but it seemed as if something in the air wanted to match the number of bumps with Sakurai's level of irritation.

"Why can't you take the plane like any other normal person?" Sakurai snapped at Imai.

"You volunteered for this," Imai chuckled as he side-eyed Sakurai.

"Only because you said you couldn't stand another leg with Yuta's incessant chatting- um!"

Sakurai froze mid-step and clammed up, turning tense the moment Imai turned the knob of the controller in his pocket. Imai, too, stopped, but a slight distance away from Sakurai. He beckoned to his vocalist.

Sakurai shook his head once. Turn. It. Off , he mouthed.

Imai beckoned again with a lop-sided smile on his face. "Hurry up or we'll miss our train," he grinned.

Sakurai's eyes darted to the overhead clock and then to the timetable right next to it. His eyes then reverted to Imai, glaring as he marched over stiffly in his black trenchcoat with a stuffed tote bag on his shoulder. Upon reaching Imai, he grabbed Imai's upper arm in a vice grip while Imai turned the controller off with another chuckle.

"Didn't we agree to wait until we're on board?" Sakurai hissed through gritted teeth.

"Nothing like a little bit of preempting, hm?" Imai smirked.

"Preempting, my foot!" Sakurai snapped, smacking Imai hard as they continued their brisk walk.

"You did ask for this," Imai said, huffing a laugh as they weaved through a fresh wave of people and headed towards their train.

"With very specific conditions," Sakurai reminded as they boarded the train. "I said after the train disembarks. Not before, not while commuting, not- Nrgh!! Imai!!"

"You need to loosen up a bit," Imai hummed as he turned the controller off once more.

"I'll loosen up if you'll stop doing that out of nowhere," Sakurai muttered angrily, storming off down the aisle in search of their seats. "And let me eat first. Goddamn, am I hungry."

"Now, now, Acchan. You'll scare everyone off if you're keeping such a look on your face," Imai teased as he followed behind.

Sakurai turned and scowled at Imai. “Didn’t you say there wouldn’t be anyone on in the first half of the journey?”

“If that has changed, I can’t do anything about it, can I?” Imai shrugged, walking past Sakurai to go to their seats. “C’mon, sit inside,” he waved as he stood in the aisle while waiting for Sakurai to move into the window seat.

Sakurai went in without a word of protest despite the pout on his face. Dropping down into the chair, he stuffed his bag under the seat and leaned back, smoothing his coat before folding his arms.

Imai sat down right next to him and opened his own bag to pull out a couple of riceballs and convenience store highballs. Handing the food and drink to Sakurai, he said, “Here, eat.”

“Thanks,” Sakurai muttered, slotting the can into the drink holder before unwrapping the riceball.

“Only between stations, right?” Imai clarified as he unwrapped his own riceball.

“Mhmm,” Sakurai nodded, his mouth full.

“I guess you can sit back and relax for now then.”

Sakurai looked at Imai from the corner of his eyes. “Really?”

“Yeah.”

“Promise?” Sakurai stuck out his pinky finger.

“Yup,” Imai nodded, hooking fingers with Sakurai as he took another bite out of his riceball.

Only then did Sakurai really relax. Sinking into his trenchcoat as he slouched down, Sakurai finished his riceball in silence just moments after the train began moving and handed its plastic remains to Imai when he was done. Imai stuffed the rubbish in a plastic bag he hand on hand as while keeping an eye on Sakurai.

The vocalist nonchalantly cracked his can of alcohol open and drank as he watched the scenery roll by, as if completely oblivious to what could or might happen at any moment. Well, it wouldn’t be any fun if Sakurai was going to be prepared for it and remain stoic throughout, right? With that in mind, Imai bided his time, waiting until Sakurai dozed off before making his move.

When Sakurai’s breathing grew deep, Imai gave him a few more minutes, letting him sleep a little more while he checked their location and against the timetable. It looks like they were about thirty-five minutes away from the next stop. That was enough time.

Imai stood up and scanned the seats in front of them. They were in the last row of this particular car, seated closest to the bathroom for convenience. The car was largely empty, save for a sleeping passenger in the front row. He had hoped that it would be completely empty, but this would have to do.

Imai sat back down and turned the little knob in his pocket. At the first click, Imai heard nothing and Sakurai didn’t even stir. While it did have an effect earlier on when they were out and about, it seemed insufficient now.

Imai turned the knob again, reaching the second click. He could hear a soft buzz of the vibrator against the seat under Sakurai now. Sakurai’s brow furrowed but that was it. Really? Imai huffed. How deeply asleep was this man?

The third click; midway of the five levels on this dial. The buzzing grew louder, as expected. This time, Sakurai’s body jerked with the change and he let out a soft noise. His brow remained furrowed but eyes were still shut.

At the fourth click, Sakurai was gasping a bit and shifting around now, as if trying to find a position that alleviated the buzzing sensation for him. Of course, it was futile. But the sleeping Sakurai wouldn’t know, would he?

Imai dared shift the knob one last time to reach the highest setting on the controller. The buzzing was now loud enough that he actually felt worried that it might get heard in the quiet car, but Sakurai’s sudden exclamation was louder than that.

Imai slapped his hand over Sakurai’s mouth as he slowly woke while moaning. Removing his other hand from his pocket, Imai slipped it into the space between the first and second buttons of Sakurai's coat and whispered, "Finally awake, hm?"

Sakurai gave a soft moan in response as his half-lidded eyes flitted around, looking at their surroundings and then at Imai's hands.

"As I half expected, we're not alone, so keep it down," Imai whispered, slowly removing his hand from Sakurai's mouth.

Just as Sakurai nodded, Imai rubbed his thumb over Sakurai's nipple, making him suck in a sharp breath and suppress a whine. Imai could feel Sakurai's chest rising and falling under his hand with his heavy breathing. He didn't resist as Imai continued fondling his body under the coat, simply leaning back and letting his body relax, or at least, he tried to while clasping Imai's forearm in one hand.

Imai was about to turn the vibrator's intensity down when the sliding doors on their end of the car hissed open. Startled, Imai hurriedly retracted his hands while Sakurai curled up and turned away to face the window with his back to Imai and the aisle. Annoyed, Imai glared up at the person who walked in. It was a train attendant.

"Tickets, please."

Imai clicked his tongue loudly, hoping to draw attention away from the probably audible buzzing coming from Sakurai's crotch. He made a show of rummaging his pockets, stuffing one hand into the pocket with the controller to turn it down to the second level before taking out both his and Sakurai's tickets from his back pocket to hand them over.

It felt as if the attendant was taking forever with their tickets; standing there and flipping them over while tapping into her handheld machine thing. While anxious, Imai was getting bored waiting for the attendant to leave. Well, he still had the controller in his pocket, right?

Imai glanced over at Sakurai and quickly cranked the intensity up before turning it back down after a moment. Sakurai's shoulders jerked in response. Imai repeated the action again and Sakurai let out a short whine this time.

"Your companion alright there?" the attendant asked, frowning as she looked at Sakurai huddling himself into the coat.

"Yeah, he's just like this," Imai shrugged, spinning the knob around and back again.

Sakurai took a deep breath and exhaled loudly this time.

"Hm," the attendant hummed, obviously unconvinced. Regardless, she handed the tickets back to Imai and walked off, leaving them alone once more.

Hearing her leave, Sakurai slowly turned to Imai. Face flushed and breathing shallow, he muttered, "Bathroom."

"Already?" Imai chuckled.

"It hurts ," Sakurai whined. "I'm hard but…" He emitted a weak whine as he pressed his face into Imai's arm.

"I told you we should've tried it out in the room first," Imai grumbled. "This is what you get for being too adventurous," he chastised, reaching under the seats for Sakurai's bag.

Imai craned his neck up and peered over the seats. It looks like everything was back to normal; no movement, no sudden visitors. Slinging Sakurai's bag over his shoulder, Imai put an arm around the man and led him out through the sliding doors.

Thankfully, behind those doors, the connecting space between their car and the next was empty and the bathroom, unoccupied, leaving it free for Imai to enter with Sakurai without prying eyes. Locking the door behind him, Imai had Sakurai sit down on the toilet while he deposited Sakurai’s bag on the dry sink counter. The space was narrow, but Imai had expected it and this was the only option they had.

Unbuttoning Sakurai's trenchcoat with deft fingers, Imai let it hang open, revealing Sakurai's scantily clad body. To say he was dressed would be an overstatement, really. Under the coat, Sakurai wore nothing but a full-body harness, a thong, and boots that went all the way up to his thighs to make sure that the fact that he wore next to nothing wasn't given away by the slit in the coat.

Imai had seen Sakurai put it all on earlier but he needed to take a moment after being confronted with the sight of a hot and bothered Sakurai in this outfit, or lack thereof. He could hear the vibrator buzzing. Turning it off, he crouched down and pulled Sakurai's thong lower to reveal his erection squeezed tight within a metal cock cage.

Despite his inability to tear his eyes away from the sight, Imai hummed nonchalantly, feigning disinterest as he reached under Sakurai and carefully peeled off the surgical tape which stuck the small vibrator on Sakurai's perineum, right behind his balls. Sakurai struggled to stay still and whined softly when it came off.

Imai paid him no need as he turned around to face the sink. Putting the vibrator aside, he opened Sakurai's bag up and began rummaging around. 

"Won't you take it off?" Sakurai asked quietly from behind, his voice straining slightly to stay level. "Please?"

"I will," Imai promised. "In time."

"Imai!" Sakurai whined, raising his voice a little as Imai finally found what he was looking for; a nondescript tube of lubricant.

"Let me take advantage of you first, hm?" Imai said, turning around with the tube in hand. "You can't expect me to give it up so easily when you're looking like this," he added, pulling at Sakurai's sleeves to tie them behind his head.

Chest heaving, Sakurai leaned back, lifting his legs higher as he let his arms get restrained. "Hurry up," he muttered breathlessly. "Hurry up and get this thing off me."

Imai smiled and squeezed lubricant onto his fingers. The moment he pressed them against Sakurai, he already began letting out soft gasps and moans. As Imai moved this digits, teasing Sakurai’s rim and pushing them in, Sakurai jerked his hips, at the same time subtly shifting to accommodate Imai in this small space.

Imai didn’t take too long with easing Sakurai open. He didn’t quite want to stay here all that long either. After all, the more time they took, the higher the possibility of someone being outside the door when they wanted to leave. 

Removing his fingers, Imai reached behind him, putting the tube back in the bag before taking a condom out and ripping it open with his teeth. Sakurai wanted haste, Imai would give him haste. Imai unzipped his pants, put the condom on and leaned into Sakurai.

If Sakurai’s noises were any indication, the man seemed capable of enjoying himself despite complaining about the pain just mere moments ago. He could be exaggerating his reactions to get Imai more aroused. Or he could be feeling more sensitive down there because of the pain. Who knows? Certainly not Imai. At this point, he was more worried about Sakurai’s noises attracting outside attention. Not only his voice but the way his knee or foot or shoe would keep smacking into the side of the partition wall as Imai thrust into him.

Grabbing Sakurai’s left leg, Imai shifted closer and made Sakurai wrap his legs around his waist. Sakurai gladly did, effectively stopping the thumping noises. Now, about his voice… Imai simply dropped forward, pressing his lips against Sakurai’s to kiss him and have him moan into his mouth instead.

Sakurai did so enthusiastically until his voice pitched higher. At that moment, Imai felt Sakurai’s insides tightening. It made fucking Sakurai all the more enjoyable for those mere couple of seconds. Imai broke the kiss and held Sakurai’s head against his chest, muffling his noises as he thrust harder for a final few times before getting that familiar wave of pleasure rushing through his body.

While still feeling a slight high, Imai began separating himself from Sakurai as he pulled out and tossed the condom into the bin in the corner. Sakurai leaned back against the cistern as his legs dropped to the side. Sitting splayed out, he seemed less anxious now as he waited for Imai to clean his hands and then look for the key to his lock.

Imai found it relatively quickly, considering how small the key was. Holding it tightly between his fingers, Imai squatted down in front of Sakurai again and gestured for him to come closer. Sakurai sat up with a soft grunt and moved until he was at the edge of the toilet. Without the risk of dropping the key into the water now, Imai carefully took hold of Sakurai and unlocked the metal cage which was now sticky with cum.

Sakurai breathed an audible sigh of relief once it was off. Imai looked at the contraption in his hand and asked, “Do you want to… toss it?”

“That’ll be a real waste, wouldn’t it?” Sakurai muttered his tone now a lot more mellow than before.

“So, I guess we’ll just hold on to it first?” Imai concluded. “See if you think you’ll ever use it again-”

“Not anytime soon, I think,” Sakurai said quickly, scrunching his face up a little as he spoke. “But we’ll see.”

Imai hummed and nodded, passing Sakurai clothes from his bag with a clean hand. While he washed the cage in the sink, Sakurai elbowed him a few times in the back and smacked him once on the head as he dressed. Upsetting as it was, what could he do? A bathroom stall on the bullet train was never meant for more than one person to occupy.

“I’m done,” Sakurai notified with a rustle of clothing. 

“Alright,” Imai acknowledged. He took a moment to dry the cage a little more with the tissues before bundling it up with the vibrator and its controller and then stuffing it all securely into a corner of the bag before zipping it up.

Turning around, Imai hugged the bag to his chest and pressed himself against the partition wall next to the bathroom door. Sakurai put his hand on the latch and made eye contact with Imai. Imai nodded. Sakurai opened the door. He stepped out and…

“Huh, there’s no one here,” Sakurai remarked.

“Really?” Imai peered out of the door and into the area outside. It truly was empty. “Well, aren’t we lucky?” he muttered.

The overhead speakers came to life. “The train will be arriving at…”

“I guess that’s why,” Imai commented as he walked through the sliding doors with Sakurai’s bag. “People are getting ready to disembark.”

“We, though, still have quite some way to go,” Sakurai emphasised. “Thanks to someone who refuses to take the plane-”

“Get in,” Imai grumbled, nudging Sakurai to take the window seat again.

Sakurai laughed as he shuffled in. Taking his bag from Imai, he then sat down with a grunt and put the bag back under the seat.

“Doesn’t hurt anymore?” Imai asked, lowering his voice as he gestured to Sakurai’s groin while sitting down.

“A little bit, but it was far worse just now,” Sakurai replied. “I can bear with this.”

“Hm, suit yourself,” Imai muttered, making himself comfortable in his seat. He closed his eyes, intending to finally take a nap when he felt a peck on his cheek. Opening his eyes again, he looked at Sakurai out of the corner of his eyes and asked, “What?”

Sakurai beamed at him. “Thank you.”

“Hmph, yeah,” Imai muttered, awkwardly pulling the hood of his jacket up and hiding his embarrassment under it.

Despite the cold shoulder that he gave Sakurai, Imai heard the man chucking to himself before falling silent and cracking open Imai’s can of alcohol. Imai couldn’t help but smile to himself. He was glad that Sakurai somehow enjoyed that which was admittedly somewhat harrowing for him and that after everything, Sakurai so quickly reverted to his normal self.

That was all good. But now, it was time for a nap.