The Moonlit Cage

Akechi tilts his head and sucks on Akira’s bottom lip. Gently, he draws Akira’s face in with both hands so he can kiss him deeper. He tastes like sunlight. He tastes like waking up as a child and knowing everything’s going to be okay. He tastes like hope and love and support and everything good in this world. Akechi’s never felt like this before, and he wonders just how many other people in this world have been so lucky to know this. He imagines it can’t be many at all.

Akira makes a soft sweet sound in the back of his throat, fingers wrapping around Akechi’s wrist and Akechi goes alight.

He’s kissing Akira. Akira. The very same Akira he grew up with. There are pictures of them sleeping peacefully in the same crib together, playing with their rubber duckies in bubble baths as toddlers together, they were so attached at the hip that people thought they were fraternal twins. His first memory was Akira. His first friend. His first nighttime emission, his first crush. His first love. And he thought Akira would never figure it out, Akira would never have to know — god, what would happen if he did? But now he does, and he’s kissing him. Oh god, he’s kissing him.

Akechi is shaking with adrenaline and endorphins and he can’t believe he actually gets this, after so long of secretly hiding such a shameful desire, it’s finally out in the open and accepted. He’s never wanted anything more. He’s never felt so grateful to be alive, to be here, to be loved. He crawls onto Akira’s lap, grinding their cocks gently together. Akira’s hard and just the thought — just knowing that Akechi was the one who brought him there — He breaks off to dip his head down because he wants more of him. He needs more. He grabs onto Akira’s belt.

Akira’s hand comes up, pressing gently to Akechi’s chest. His fingertips stay there.

Akechi’s eyes dart up...and his breath stops in his chest. Everything Akira is about to say is written all over his face. And of course Akechi can read it. Of course he can.

Akira presses an overwhelmed hand over his face, mouth twisting. “Goro, I’m sorry,” he breathes. “I told you we’d try. I know I did, but I... I don’t —”

His eyes flick down to Akira’s tented pants. “But — but you’re —”

He bows his head, drawing in a shaky wet breath. “I’m so sorry. I’m not gay. It’s so — uncomfortable — I can’t — I don’t —”

Akechi is immediately so ashamed. So horrified to be who he is. The same kiss that wrapped Akechi’s heart in love and flame makes Akira literally sick. Akira made him feel everything at once, but he couldn’t even ignite a spark of the same.

What’s he supposed to do...? He swallows hard against the pricking of tears stabbing deep in his skull. Akechi nods quickly, drawing up his perfected curated smile. “It’s okay,” he says, voice high and bright. “It’s fine. I... Thank you for trying anyway. Many others wouldn’t have even bothered. You have such a marvelously open mind. I figured it might not...um, work out for you. Seeing as you’ve always been heterosexual and all. I figured...um...” He trails off before forcing his tone into brightness once more. “Yes. Thank you. I do appreciate you trying regardless.”

“Goro,” Akira sniffs wetly, brushing his hair back and staring desperately into his eyes. “But what about you? Now I know how you’ve been seeing me these past few years and I can’t get it out of my head that you — that I — I let you down—”

“Actually, it was quite odd, wasn’t it? Kissing each other. I mean, I’ve known you for so long. Saying we grew up together is an understatement. We’re basically family.”

Akira hesitates, scanning Akechi’s face. “...You know I love you more than anyone in the world. Nothing’s ever going to change that,” he murmurs seriously. “Just...I don’t love you like that.”

“Of course not, I — Me neither,” he lies. “Call it curiosity. I know all of you, after all, so I wondered about the rest. But we’ve done it now, it was strange, so we never have to wonder anymore. Think of it as only an experiment. You know how I like those. And now the problem’s solved so...perfect. Everything’s perfect. Truly, wonderfully perfect.”

“You okay...?”

“Yes. Of course. It was nothing. I felt nothing. It was warm and...wet and...uncomfortable, like you said. Where’s the chemistry? Where’s the spark? I imagine a kiss is supposed to feel...well, good. And it didn’t. I feel nothing. So.”

Akira nods slowly, but he looks even more sad than before. “Goro... You’re made for better things than to stay here and be my boyfriend anyway,” Akira says, still watching Akechi’s face closely. He reaches up and wraps his arms around Akechi’s neck, nuzzling in and sighing softly. “You have so many wonderful things going for you right now. You got that unbelievable scholarship. People are knocking at your door already begging you to work for them. You can do anything in the world that you want! You don’t need me.”

“Yes,” Akechi smiles, patting Akira consolingly on the back. He lies, each word stabbing him straight through. “Yes. You’re absolutely right. I don’t need you at all.”

FIFTEEN YEARS LATER

He doesn’t get over it.

One would think that after fifteen years, several prestigious degrees, a feature in the country’s top magazine as number two in the Top Ten Young Billionaires To Watch (fucking cheating son of an oil baron), and getting begged to take his dream job would soothe at least some of his wounds, and yet —

Well. Akechi’s a sentimental sort, he supposes. Akira was his best friend — is his best friend. He still is. Why shouldn’t he be? Think of all Akechi’s accomplished, think of the mansion he lives in. It’s the first smart house of this caliber, especially owned by someone so young! He has everything. Nothing could take their friendship away. Nothing. ...Nothing...except...

At the worst moment possible, Akechi turns from his work and peers idly out the window. A piece of junk car is parked at the end of the street, marring the view, and Akechi’s traitor gates open up with warm welcoming for it.

It’s Akira who gets out of the passenger’s side. Just the sight of him sends Akechi’s heart beating a little funny. When Akira leans back in through the window and kisses the driver long and tender and sweet, the beat changes. Akira balances his torso over the window’s opening, kicking his feet in the air like a lovesick fool.

He is a fool. Akechi stares, work forgotten beneath his cold fingertips. He knows, for his sanity and safety both, he needs to look away. Such an easy thing to do. Yet, he stays right where he is, locked in place on his ten thousand dollar ergonomic seat, his back aching anyway because his stomach keeps twisting up in knots.

He does not look away.

Akira kisses her slow and sensual, the way Akechi longs to be kissed. He gets lost in the image, in the dream.

What if that were him in the driver’s seat of that piece of shit car? What if Akira couldn’t resist when he saw Akechi sitting there? What if he were drawn in just like Akechi is...and he leaned through the window to kiss him with such carelessness, with such light and love? Because he wanted Akechi. Because he needed him to feel alive and whole. His heart filled with the same toxic desire and he couldn’t stop himself. He just couldn’t. What if that were him? What if...?

“HEYO.” Akira slams into Akechi’s lab without a single knock. With a loud bang, the door cracks into the wall and Akechi jolts in surprise, toppling his coffee over with a startled yelp.

“Akira,” he curses, standing and grimacing down at the mess all over his front. He’s dripping dark brown and bitterness. “Damn you.”

“Oops. Sorry,” Akira whispers softly, twirling on his heel and falling gracefully on the couch Akechi got just for him. He lets out a dreamy sigh. “Oh, Goro. You would not believe what Sumi just told me.”

He tsks and bellows out, “I need a fucking towel!” and holds a hand out until his robot butler comes by with one. He roughs up his outfit until it’s no longer soaking.

“Guess, Goro.”

“Oh my god, you’ve got to be kidding me! It got all over the keyboard! Now I’ve got to buy another one.”

“Done,” his butler says simply, reaching forward to take the towel out of Akechi’s agitated hands. He gently takes over, using steam from the tips of his fingers to eliminate the mess. “Arriving tomorrow before two.”

“Thank you,” he mutters, tossing a glare at the one on his couch. “No thanks to Akira.”

Akira snorts, rolling onto his side as he cuddles with a pillow Akechi also bought for him that he just had to have. “I’m sorry. You should use the little coffee table Sumi and I made you for your birthday. It has a cup holder for you and everything. For a so-called genius, you sure make some funny choices. I know it’s not made of gold, but I did hand carve the thing. Very sturdy.”

Akechi sits back down in an upset poof, wheeling himself back in and glaring into his computer screen before typing madly away. He ignores the coffee table and one half of its builders.

“Goro.”

“I’m working.”

A huge sigh. “C’mon, forgive me? Want me to make you more coffee?”

“I don’t have any here, I bought it on the way home.”

“I have some at my place. I can make you some, but we’re going for our run after, okay? It’s a nice day outside, I’m thinking we’ll be able to get an extra mile in. You need it.”

“What is that supposed to mean?” Akechi hisses.

Akira winks and swings the door closed behind him, bringing the chaos and noise with him. Akechi sinks his face into both hands and heaves out a heavy sigh.

Goddammit. Everyday it’s like this. This is torment. It was the move of a very desperate and very stupid horny man when he accepted being Akira’s neighbor. Akira missed him, he said. They’d always lived within arms’ reach, since birth, university pulled them apart, but shouldn’t they return to that? Akira wanted the ease of walking out his front door and through Akechi’s.

It sounded so nice at the time, Akechi wanted that with Akira too, even though Akechi knew...he knew it would mean seeing other things too. Like who Akira brings home at night. Seeing him go off on dates. Seeing him invite someone new to move in with him.

And, as the years passed by, Akechi has lived to witness all of those god awful things come true. It feels even worse than he had anticipated it to. Why can’t he just...not feel anything anymore? Why can’t he be an adult about this? It’s the same juvenile crush as ever.

He’s just thankful that Akira thinks Akechi is asexual and not interested in anyone at all. That’s what Akechi told him to get him the fuck off his back about dating other men. He doesn’t want other men. Men suck. He only wants the one.

Akechi was greedy and he wanted all he could get of Akira, so this is just the price he has to pay for that selfishness. He still hasn’t told Akira that he can see their silhouettes through the curtains at night. The first day he found out he could see Akira naked and on top of another, in another, thrusting into them eagerly in ecstasy, ecstasy he’d never feel with Akechi...it was the worst day Akechi’s had in so, so long. He swears to god he could hear Akira crying out as he orgasmed. He could see his shaft going in and out, in and out, voraciously eating up his girlfriend, hard and plump and perfect. It made Akechi feel like the ugliest, most unwanted person in the world. And maybe he is.

It feels even worse when he masturbates to it. Fucking hormones. If he could cut them out of himself, he would.

He doesn’t like this, but he thinks he’d like having none of Akira even less. At least, that’s what he tells his therapist every time he gets that look like he should know better than this. At least Akira still smiles and jokes and teases him this way. At least he leans in and throws his arms around Akechi’s shoulders and acts like he’s irreplaceable and special to him. At least, this way, Akechi can still have his friendship.

It hurts so badly, but what can he do? Akira isn’t gay. And Akechi is a man.

So he tosses himself into his work. At least the mind numbing dullness of that makes him forget what it’s like to feel human, at least for a little while. Because fuck being human, honestly. It’s the fucking worst. But being rich is nice. He has things. Any sort of thing that he wants. Who doesn’t like things? People envy him!

“Master,” Arsène says softly from the doorway, “is everything alright?”

“Yes,” he murmurs, not sparing a glance as he scribbles out an equation on a sticky note. “Just...fucking Akira and his fucking...” He struggles to summarize such a huge thing, so he waves a wild arm through the air. “You know. He’s such an asshole.”

“Indeed.”

Before he can continue complaining, his phone rings and he gazes down at it through irritated eyes. “What is it?” He snaps into the receiver. He listens, bad mood growing deeper. “Are you — You absolute imbecile. No. No! Don’t you know anything?! I swear to god, did you get your PhD online? Well, you could’ve fooled me! Fucking idiot! Don’t fucking touch it anymore!”

He shoves off from the desk and gets to his feet, propping the door open for Akira and scribbling out on the white board. Be right back. Some idiot at work has fucked up and I need to fix it. Don’t harass Arsène again, when he gets upset, he boils the tea too hot and the water heater goes crazy and you know how I fucking hate cold showers. BEHAVE YOURSELF.

He underlines the last sentence several times even though he knows if Akira wants mischief, Akira will get mischief. That’s basically his motto in life.

“Can I help?” Arsène asks as Akechi passes by.

“Um. I don’t —” He feels harassed and frazzled. “I don’t know. Just entertain Akira for me. I don’t know when I’ll be back and you know how he gets antsy alone and he creates mischief and I just — He’s so — ugggh.”

Arsène bows dutifully. “Alright. Don’t worry about him or the house. I’ll take care of it all. You have my word.”

“Thank you, Arsène.” It’s pretty sad when his robot butler is the only bit of relief Akechi gets in a day, but boy, does he need it.

Despite his efforts, it’s evening by the time Akechi finishes damage control at work and makes it back home. Looks like he missed their daily run and he doesn’t expect Akira to still be there. After all, Yoshizawa lives with him now, and she’s his top priority, the light of his life, his little sunshine, all those apparently great wonderful things. He barely sees Akira half as much as he used to. Akechi’s just an afterthought.

He pushes the door open and looks to the white board. His note has been wiped away and now displays a drawing of Arsène with a long twirly mustache, drinking bourbon from a glass. Behind his butler, a stick figure of whom Akechi assumes is himself is shivering away while taking a frigid shower expelling ice cubes. Akira is an awful artist, but that hasn’t stopped him from taking up the entire board. Akechi stares at it in its entirety. Robots don’t drink. Juvenile.

“Arsène?” Akechi calls, peeling his jacket off his back.

Arsène walks in, reaching forward for the jacket. “Welcome home, Master.”

“Yes. Thank you. Draw the bath, please. And throw out tonight’s dinner. I’m not hungry.”

His butler sighs in disappointment. “Please tell me you’re joking. Sir, I must encourage you not to skip again. What purpose does always starving yourself serve? Just awful.”

Akechi rolls his eyes, but doesn’t slow. “Did Akira tell you to worry about my health again? Nullify that command. Throw out the dinner. And stop listening to him about my health! What’s he care? He’s not my fucking mom.”

“As you wish. I will no longer care about your health. You may perish.”

“Good.” Akechi swears to god the damn robot has a hint of a cheeky smile behind his eyes, but he elects to ignore it.

“Master Akira has instructed me to tell you he’s been waiting for you in your bedroom and he’s very very unhappy with you. His words.”

“Akira, Akira, Akira. Wait. He’s still here? He hasn’t gone home to Yoshizawa yet?”

“No, Master. He hasn’t left.”

“My bedroom...?” He murmurs, stepping around Arsène and walking through his mansion.

It takes fucking forever to get anywhere, he regrets the size honestly. It’s a bit ridiculous next to Akira and Yoshizawa’s traditionally sized home, it literally casts a shadow over theirs, but what can you do? Akira wouldn’t accept Akechi’s offer to build him his own matching mansion, he wanted to do it all himself. That one hurt a bit. Is Akechi’s money no good to him? Of course it wouldn’t be. Nothing about him ever is. Surely, he’d let Yoshizawa build him a mansion, but whatever.

Akechi finally makes it to his bedroom and rounds the corner, slipping off his tie. Akira’s lying on the bed, legs crossed and arms folded behind his head on Akechi’s pillow like he owns the place. The second he sees Akechi, he sits up, eyes bright and focused.

“Hey.” Akira says immediately, grinning. There’s mischief there; Arsène didn’t take care of shit apparently.

“What are you doing here still?”

He tilts his head and nods toward the wall. “What’s this?”

Akechi turns. It’s his bookcase. But Akira already knows this, half the books are from him.

The bookcase is almost always pressed neatly against the wall, as ornate as the rest of the place, and very unassuming. Akechi is very meticulous about making sure it stays that way. He’s careful that it doesn’t leave a single hint or trace of what remains inside.

Because inside is his deepest darkest secret.

Inside is the issue here. Because, if you pull away the wall of books, through it is a very secret, very private staircase that curls down and into infinite darkness.

The secret passageway is wide open.

It curls up and presents its steps, welcoming its next victim down. There’s a peculiar howl that comes from the depths of that darkness, like the opening of a deep underground belly that’s churning up and brewing something menacing, something off. A faint smell wafts up with the draft, but it isn’t earthy or even stale. It’s light and floral, sweet.

Akira’s walks over and throws his arms wide, placing both hands against each side of the opening. “So. Picture this. After slaving away in the kitchen to make my world famous coffee for you, I come back to find the place empty. You’ve left me. All alone! I have nothing to do, I’m bored out of my mind, so I’m sitting there, looking about the place, and I realize it’s so fucking dusty. And I think, oh! Goro’s been sneezing a lot lately, hasn’t he? You don’t take care of yourself. You have a butler! You can have him dust!”

Akechi presses his fingers into his eyes. “He says he’s allergic.”

“He’s a robot. You’re the one who programmed him that way.”

Akechi opens his mouth defensively. “I—”

“Anyway. Not the point. So I’m cleaning. Wiping down your twenty-thousand books. But one is weirdly not dusty, like you see in movies all the time. And you know I love a good movie. So I pull it out, and I see a button. A button in a bookcase, Goro. What am I supposed to do? You know how curious I can be. So I press it. And —!! BOOM.” He gestures wildly to the passageway behind him. “It’s fucking Dracula’s lair!! You and I designed the house plans together!! You never told me about this. You intentionally kept it a secret from me! A deep dark secret.” His eyes go wide with intrigue. “The question is...why?”

Akechi crosses his arms defensively over his chest, carefully avoiding eye contact. “...Would you believe me if I told you it was a safe room?”

“No. Is it a sex dungeon?”

Akechi groans softly. “Akira.”

“Oh my god.” Akira breathes, eyes lighting up. He pushes himself off the secret door frame, looking closely at Akechi’s face in shock and awe. “Oh my god. It is. It’s a sex dungeon, isn’t it? I didn’t look yet. I wanted to ask. I mean. What if it’s where you keep the bodies? I’m not sure I’m ready to be an accomplice to a crime like that. I’m too young for jail.”

Akechi glances up, peeved. But Akira doesn’t seem serious. He’s grinning away.

He leans forward. “Goro. A sex dungeon!” He laughs from deep within his belly. “GORO. Wait a second! I thought you were asexual!”

“Fuck off! I haven’t said anything, you’re coming to these ridiculous conclusions all on your own. Don’t you need to go home already? Isn’t your beloved Yoshizawa waiting for you?”

“No, that’s what I was going to tell you about before you left. She’s having a sleepover at her sister’s tonight so it’s just me and you. GORO. A SEX DUNGEON.” His voice echoes through the large hallways. “A SEX DUNGEOOOONN!!” He cackles.

“Can you shut up?” Akechi hisses, turning to look behind him as Arsène walks past, looking in curiously. He’s so human-like sometimes. “You didn’t hear anything!”

He gives a faintly amused smile. “Sir.”

“Actually. Wait. Can you take Akira out of here? By force. The more force, the better.”

Akira is practically bouncing in place. “Cancel that, Arsène. I have business here.”

He chuckles softly. “...Yes, sir.”

“I’m pissed at you for adding your name to his command registry,” he mutters, watching Arsène continue on his way without listening to him at all. He swears to god Arsène laughs. The nerve.

“And yet, you didn’t protest at all when I was doing it. Back to the sex dungeon...”

“Akira,” Akechi heaves, disgruntled. He rubs at his face. “Enough already. I’m really not in the mood for your jokes. Can you please go home now? My idiot coworker made me do double the work today and I’ve got the worst fucking migraine, I’m in clothes covered in coffee, which smells like skunk when dry, and I just want to go to bed. I don’t have the patience to deal with this right now. I’ll let you take a look tomorrow but, for right now, I need to rest. Please just go home.”

“Oh,” Akira murmurs, shoulders drooping. “Sorry. You’re right, you’ve had a long day. We can talk about this later. Just got excited.” He pauses for a second but then a devilish smile spreads across his face. He wiggles his eyebrows. “I mean. A sex dungeon, Goro.”

“You know your way out,” Akechi says shortly, turning in one swift step and exiting the room.

“Oh, Goro! I was only teasing! You can have whatever kind of dungeon you want! The sexier the better!”

“I trust you to find the front door!” He walks faster. He can’t look Akira in the eyes right now. He hides his face in his hand; it’s beet red.

Because it’s a fucking sex dungeon. Trust Akira, of all people, to find the one fucking bookcase in a mansion full of bookcases, take out the one fucking book in the entire place that will open the one single door for his one hidden dark room. His one sex dungeon. How can this possibly be? Akechi is cursed.

Akira! Akechi would’ve rather Yoshizawa found out. She is exactly the kind of person who would barge into his house and snoop around under the pretense of cleaning. Like she’s trying to be nice or something!!

Akira mustn’t see! Akechi’s already scrambling mentally, trying to put together his plan to make sure tomorrow goes off flawlessly. He tosses himself into the bath and silent screams into his hands. “Arsène!”

Because he built the whole room with Akira in mind... What’s the point in being a so-called creative genius if he can’t use it for his own needs and purposes, right...? But. Well. No one else is supposed to find out how fucked up he actually is.

It’s okay. He’ll be okay. He starts rapid firing his entire plan to his robot butler. He’ll just have Arsène contact his other robots he leant to his work for a while, he’ll bring them here, have them deconstruct the whole thing tonight. Take it to some storage unit for a while. He can re-wallpaper the damn place, hide what’s truly there. Make it look like a safe room. That’s what he said it was anyway. Akira’s trusting, very trusting, he’d believe it if that’s what he saw. So that’s what they’ll do.

Akechi would love to just rot here in the tub, but that is not what an adult would do. And he’s, unfortunately, supposed to be one of those. His pajamas are waiting on the end of his bed. He slips into his silk shirt and bottoms and crawls over his massive mattress, flopping onto his back.

But...wouldn’t it have been nice if Akira had actually stepped across Akechi’s one boundary and wandered down his secret passageway and into the sex dungeon made just for him...? Akechi closes his eyes and imagines it. Akira’s elegant hands skimming over the machines, eyes wide in forbidden wonder as he’s drawn in. Can’t resist. Can’t not touch... And then his body rocking with the rhythm of his machines, Akechi’s own personal designs. Gasping, soft and heated and thick with lust, penetrated by the soft curve of metal Akechi carefully carved with his own hand... Serviced by it... Hands trembling and shaking as he takes it into his body...

...God, the thought is heaven.

Akechi thinks of the dark silhouette of Akira through the curtains, handling his girlfriend down to the bed, mouths locked together, feeling down each other’s bodies...taking what they want from the other...

Akechi breathes in shakily. He wants a lot of things, things he’s never had before. He reaches a hand up to his lips and touches the tips of his fingers there, feeling his own touch but envisioning Akira’s there. If that were him...if Akira actually wanted him... Akechi envisions it: Akira touching Akechi with a reverent sort of hesitance. He’d ask, breath heavy with heated want: can he?

Akechi runs his fingers lightly down his jaw, over the length of his neck... His breath grows heavier and heavier.

Can he? Akechi would grab Akira’s hand shivering with desire and shove it down his briefs. He’d ride Akira’s hand and split his legs wide, send his fingers up his body and moan and writhe and feel him —

Can he??

Akechi whimpers, legs shifting. His fingers ghost over his cock and he thumbs over his leaking head. Of course he can. Of course. He wants.

For once, just once, he wants Akira to feel what Akechi always feels with him. It makes him crazy. Akira’s always here, but he’s not. He loves Akechi, but he doesn’t. He thinks Akechi’s amazing, but not amazing enough to make love with. Just enough to fucking torture him.

How can Akira not see Akechi’s still in love with him? How can he be so clueless? Akechi knows Akira so well, but Akira apparently doesn’t know him the same way. It’s so fucking lonely. If only Akechi could love someone else, but he tried, and he can’t do it.

If only Akira liked men. If only he wanted a nice juicy cock up his cunt, he could have Akechi’s. He could ride it all he wanted, whenever he’d want it. He could ride it off into the sunset. Then he’d fall for Akechi, Akechi just knows it. They’re perfect for each other in every other way, everyone sees it, everyone.

If Akira was a bottom, he’d choose Akechi.

Then Akechi would have everything. Life would be complete.

Akechi pushes himself up suddenly, releasing his erection from his hand. He’s burning up from the inside out, feverish and invigorated and...inspired.

He kicks his silk sheets off of his aching body, pulls his long silk robe off the coat hanger and around his shoulders, and wanders barefoot down the secret staircase and into his dark underground world.

The stairs curve as he heads down, the wall scones on each side light as he passes by. They’re real flame, theatrical, just how he likes it. If he’s going to have a secret, he might as well go all the way, he thought, when he and Arsène made the place. He’s pretty pleased with the results, if he does say so himself.

Because no one else gets this space. Not Yoshizawa. Not any asshole from his work. Not even Akira. This is only for him. Guilt doesn’t have to exist down here because no one else knows. No shame or horror over who he is, of what he’s become in the absence of love. No worry over how monsters are born.

Maybe there should be. What started as such a pure innocent bud of hope has had days to grow...months to twist...years to warp...and decades to become...this... This dark thorn hidden in the untouched depths of his heart. What Akira cultivated with his own hands in Akechi, tending to the wilted flowers within him. Here’s the fruit of his labor.

At the end of the staircase is a sparsely lit circular corridor. Elegant stone walls sprawl upward in a careful dome, but the air doesn’t hang static or musty thanks to the advanced air system Akechi installed. He can’t stand that sort of thing. He ignores the black space ahead and pushes through an antique door to the side, where he keeps his lab.

At the end of the room, his trusty desk awaits him, on top of which his current project sits. There are tubes with strange liquids and phallic-shaped objects hung on the walls, on display. Mysterious concoctions Akechi has created that could destroy an entire army with one easy swing line the shelving up top, but they’re not weapons, not really. Everything here is an aphrodisiac of some sort, but that doesn’t mean they’re any less dangerous. They’re new, untested, unreleased. And they shall never be.

This place is just for fun. When Akechi dies, he already has a mechanism for it to all be completely neutralized and be buried beneath the ground and no one will ever have to know. May his farewell articles be as pristine as he pretends to be.

Akechi pulls his hair back into an elastic band, yanks his chair up to his desk, and begins his real work.

So rarely does he allow himself to let the walls fall away, even in front of Akira. There’s a certain character he always has to play: normal and good with morals and humanity. Here, he can breathe. He can put all his dark emotions, all his dirty desires, all his agony and melancholy and cram it into his designs until they burst. And they do, literally, at the tips of cocks. There’s something so relieving about imagining some insane idea and then seeing it come to life. No one else will admire it, but at least it no longer has to reside in Akechi’s heart like a prickling nagging reminder of the one thing he can’t have. The one thing he wants most.

Here, he could die content. It’s his one safe space. His only one.

Footsteps. Akechi murmurs flatly as he carefully eyeballs a shining rainbow-y concoction in a glass flask, “Don’t interrupt me. If I make a mistake, this whole place goes up in flames.” He adds one last drop. With a hiss, the mixture transforms into a brilliant blood red. No flame. No destruction. “Wouldn’t that be fun?”

“If my definition of fun is anything like yours, I suppose — though I’d rather it not be. I sense no error in your creation though,” Arsène hums with dark amusement. “What a pity. Looks like fun will have to be put off for one more day.”

“Of course you sense no error,” Akechi straightens his back and pulls his goggles up and over his forehead. “Everything you know, so do I.”

“I have full access to the entire internet, as well, don’t forget.”

“How encouraging. Viruses and misinformation galore. Speaking of, did you see, Arsène? The most recent AI development? A suggestion to use glue on cheese pizza. Elmer’s glue, specifically.” He snorts out a vicious laugh. “That’s how well that’s going. Un-fucking-believable.”

Arsène gives a faint chuckle, eyes glittering wickedly. “I did see that, sir. Very amusing. Have you tried it though? If it’s non-toxic glue, I don’t see the harm. Do you?”

“Now you’re just trying to piss me off. Fucking hacks. I told those idiots, didn’t I? What a load of shit.” Akechi waves him away. “What is it then? Make it quick. I’m busy.”

Arsène folds his hands neatly behind his back. “I detected an upward trend in your heart rate, Master. Your stress hormones are elevated and don’t seem to be returning to baseline either. It’s concerning me.”

He gives the cock in his hands a casual twirl before dipping it into the flask. It bubbles and begins to disintegrate. “...Shit.” He tosses it away and shoves the concoction to the side. “Okay. And?”

“And I want to help you, sir. I’ve been worried about you lately. You seem very unhappy.”

“Fuck off, would you? Is this Akira’s work again?”

“He wanted me to make sure —”

“—I’m sure he did. Look, I’d rather not think about Akira right now. You said you’d watch him earlier and you didn’t and now he fucking knows about this place. I can’t fucking believe it... Look. Whatever. Just leave me alone. I’m in a bad mood and I just want to work on this and it’s eating dicks.” He sighs, stressed. “I’ll come out when I’m done.”

Arsène hesitates, tension building in his lithe shoulders. “...As you wish, Master. But you didn’t eat. At least allow me to —”

“No. Shoo.” He waves his hand and snaps his goggles back on.

He swirls in his chair and gazes upon one wall filled with various dildos and vibrators he’s collected over the years. They’re of all different shapes and sizes. Some are custom just because he can. Some he’s even made himself. Others aren’t even anatomically correct, but aren’t those the more fun ones sometimes? He has them mounted on the walls like they’re trophies, some are framed because it makes him laugh. Those are made of gold and probably uncomfortable to use anyway. He might try them someday, but there are just so many and even he does not have the willpower for that.

He walks over to the wall, finger pressed to his lips in thought as he looks each of them over, assessing them to see which one would best fit his newest creation. It probably won’t melt this time.

He’ll need two, he thinks as he reaches his hand out and feels each one in turn. One for each end — and he’s thinking...hard and monstrous for the bottom entry and then...soft but hollow for the top. That way, the tube that he’ll hook up to the machine can easily siphon the cum it collects straight into Akira’s mouth. Well, throat, technically. It’ll bypass his mouth entirely because this soft and hollow phallic object is so very long... It’ll fit itself over his tongue, slip past his vocal cords, and nestle itself down past his throat. He won’t be able to breathe because he’ll be so filled by cock. It’s really how all life should be.

Akechi is burning and tingly as he detaches his chosen object from the wall and holds it lovingly between both hands. He envisions Akira, his childhood friend, his partner in crime, his everything, with his head tilted back, his neck on display as his bottom lip quivers in anticipation. His eyelids will hood over, as Akechi oh so carefully, oh so gently, will lower this long soft beast down his willing throat. The soft sounds Akira will make as it stuffs up his little mouth... How he’ll groan low and deep with his rich velvet-y voice as it’ll slide deep down his throat, touching places he’s never been touched by such an object before. Akechi will see his neck muscles tightening on its way down, see as Akira will suck on it reflexively for comfort, eyes rolling back as he’s overwhelmed down into oblivion...

When Akira comes — and, of course he will — the machine hooked to his penis will siphon and pump it all straight up and back into his belly. A vicious, beautiful cycle. It’ll no doubt have Akira squirming with delight, his toes flexing as he moans in cum-filled bliss.

Well. Not that it’ll ever happen. Akechi’s not that sick in the head. He knows it’s fucked up. But a little dreaming never hurt anyone, right? Honestly, it does make him feel a little guilty thinking such thoughts, but Akechi is very self-contained. It’s all right here, in this dungeon, safe and sound. No reason to worry. He’s sane enough to know this.

With a long deep inhale — a sad attempt at clearing his head — he brings the lucky winner back with him to the table. He glows down at it nestled in his cupped hands in a tender loving hold. Yes, this one will do. Akira will look so divine choking on its thick meaty girth. Tears in his eyes. Cock beet red as he twitches hungrily for Akechi’s touch...

I love you, he’ll say with his hooded dull eyes. I love you, I love you, I love you...

A dragon dildo. Fantasy. Larger than reality. Akechi gives it a delighted stroke and cups the tender soft cockhead. He presses his thumb into the slit until it’s swallowed whole.

Footsteps again.

Akechi hangs his head and groans in agony, shifting his pants over his erection. “How many fucking times do I have to say it? I’m doing something. I told you —” He whirls, waving the dragon’s cock through the air as he waves his hand.

“Whoa.”

Akechi freezes. That voice.

“Holy shit...”

Standing in the doorway of Akechi’s most private secret space...is none other than Akira.

Akira, with his eyes big, his jaw dropped wide open. He doesn’t move from his spot, he seems to have forgotten how to as he scopes out the walls. Or rather, what’s on the walls. “...Goro.”

Akechi just stares.

Akira swings his gaze from the display and straight onto Akechi. His eyes are bright and piercing, seeing everything there is to see about him. He’s looking straight into Akechi’s soul.

“You’re making something,” Akira breathes. He strides inside, turning backwards as he looks up and at the huge collection of dicks on the inner wall. “Oh, my god. Would you look at this place...?”

“H-how did you —?” Akechi is absolutely mortified. He can’t let go of the goddamn dildo in his hand because he’s rooted to the spot, unable to move.

Akira laughs, half a wheeze. He grabs Akechi by the shoulders and grips on for dear life. “I knew it. Oh, I knew it. I always thought you were too goddamn genius to just waste your talents on work. I knew you had to vent it somewhere else, but I never would’ve guessed — I never would’ve thought —”

Akechi stares dumbly, cock flopping in his hands.

Akira looks down at it, bright eyed. “Holy — What is this?” He cackles and grabs it from him like it isn’t a massive dick and presents it up into the bright lab light. It makes a popping sound as it detaches from Akechi’s thumb and wobbles slightly from side to side. Its shadow blots out Akira’s face as he gasps up into all of its might. “Oh, my god. This thing’s huge. You don’t use this, do you?” He blinks. “Do you?” He quickly drops it back into Akechi’s hands and turns.

Akechi stares down at it. It’s warmer than it was before, Akira’s heat imprinted into its silicone flesh. It feels...nice.

“And what are all these?! All lit up with spotlights on display like this?! It’s like a prized anime figure collection or something, but they’re cocks. Oh my god. You’re collecting cocks...” Laughter bubbles out of him. “What the fuck.”

The thing is. Akira doesn’t look horrified. His eyes are sparkling in shocked wonder. He looks down at the machine Akechi’s made lovingly these past few weeks with a hand pressed over his lips, in deep thought.

But all Akechi sees is judgement. Is Akira, in that car in the high school parking lot, feeling Akechi’s disgusting fucking cock against him, and wanting to vomit.

All this work had seemed so fulfilling only minutes ago and now, beneath the weight of Akira’s gaze, all seems absolutely abhorrently wrong. What on earth was he thinking? Akechi shrinks into himself. He can’t breathe.

The past presses in, stronger than reality: Akira, sitting in Akechi’s lap in the car, pushing him away. It felt so wrong, he said, guilt and pain in his voice. You felt so wrong. Akechi did that. Akechi made him feel that way. He’s that disgusting.

Akira is still twirling about the place excitedly. He spies the name carved by hand on his new machine. “PENIS MILKER?” He chokes. “Does it actually?! Do you actually use...it...oh...” He does a double take at Akechi’s shell-shocked face and he sobers quickly. “...Oh. This is...private, isn’t it...?”

Akechi tries to force out through grit teeth: “Yes.”

Slowly, Akira’s face begins to flame red. It crawls up his neck and overcomes his ears as he forces himself to settle. “Oh, shit. Oh, man. Goro, I’m...I’m so sorry. Oh. Wow. I...” He takes a deep long breath. “This really is your sex dungeon, isn’t it? That was uh...that was supposed to be a joke earlier. Wow, I’m embarrassed now. I didn’t mean — uhhh. I didn’t know. I didn’t mean to make fun of you. Not at all. I was just umm...you know. Just. A joke. I didn’t actually think...”

Akira bites his lip and tries to look away, but there is nowhere safe in this room to look. His eyes fall on the simplest one. The Bulldozer 2000 was one of Akechi’s first inventions and it wasn’t his most creative, it’s basically just a standard fuck machine. The name was supposed to be funny. It sure as hell does not feel even remotely funny right now as Akira reads the title and gazes for way longer than necessary at the monster cock attached to the end.

Akira says, “...I mean, this is...really shocking. You’ve always been...well, kinda a prude, honestly. I always had to defend you over it at school. The guys would always say — well...”

Akechi tries to speak, but his voice is locked in his throat.

“But wow, you’re actually super fucking kinky, aren’t you? They all look like fools now. This one is...what? Like a dragon or something? Or is it like a mermaid thing? It’s two, isn’t it? It’s two. And is that — Is it coming out of a — Oh, wow. Je-sus. All this time. Okay. Okay, okay, okay. Just answer me this: do you bring people here?” He points his thumb at a cock on the wall, gesturing casually at it.

“Akira. I fucking told you,” Akechi breathes. “I fucking told you I didn’t want you in here! Why do you always have to pry into me like this?! Why do you always — Do you not let me have anything —?! You —! You —!!” Akechi’s going to pop. He’s definitely shrieking.

Akira winces, twiddling away at the hair in front of his face, a nervous gesture he normally reserves for anyone else. Never Akechi. “Oooooof. Yeah, uh. Yeah, this does seem pretty private, huh? Goro, it’s not a big deal? Right? I mean. People have sexual interests. Everyone does. Well. Most people do. It’s nothing to be ashamed about either way. It’s just...normal. You know?”

“THIS is normal?!” Akechi wheezes, tossing his hands up at both sides stocked full of different shaped cocks. They’re standing in the middle. If there were to be an earthquake, the cocks would collapse and kill them both. Drowned by silicone sex toys, bathed in toxic levels of aphrodisiac. They’d die horny and erect and crushed. Very much crushed. “Tell me this is normal!”

Akira looks doubtfully at one of the larger ones drooping off the wall by a foot. It isn’t human. It’s some sort of monster’s, sharp angles and thick knots. Akechi had been obsessed with it for weeks after he bought it and he came so many times on it and now Akira’s looking at it like...

He’s trying not to. He’s trying to take it all in stride, like this is just another boring day, but Akechi knows Akira and Akechi can tell: he’s stunned speechless. All this rambling is nervous chatter. Because this isn’t the character Akechi plays. This is someone else, someone fucked in the head. Someone irredeemable.

“I mean,” Akira says, carefully looking away, pink-cheeked, but he can’t seem to find a safe spot in the room to look. “People like...toys.”

Akechi groans, hanging his head. He’s going to cry.

Akira claps both hands to the tops of his thighs with a short laugh. “At least it’s not bodies, am I right? When I was walking down that Phantom of the Opera-y chamber, I almost thought... You know what they say about geniuses.”

“That we’re murderers?!”

“Yeah.” Akira grins as he leans onto the wall. “Like you were going to kidnap me once I saw your secret evil lair or something. Evil secret face. Christine, you know? I am your angeeeel of music.”

“What??”

“The Phantom? Nevermind. He was a musical genius and he murdered people. Like, not really maliciously, he was just tormented inside. Well. It could be up for debate whether or not it was malicious, I can honestly see both sides. We’ll have to watch it together sometime. What would I do with you then? But you’re not, you don’t love murder, you love cocks! I can work with this much much easier. Phew!”

Akechi turns away, overwhelmed. He grabs his hair into both hands and stares blankly into the wall. He has no idea what Akira’s even saying anymore. “Oh, my fucking god... Why are you doing this to me...? I’ve been good, haven’t I? I’ve done right with my life. Oh, Mother, help me...”

Akira laughs and touches his finger to the tip of a particularly large one, watching as it bounces and wobbles mid-air. “Can I touch these? Are they clean? Do you actually use them? I mean, the cat’s kinda out of the bag now, so might as well tell me... Which one is your favorite? It’s this dragon looking one, isn’t it? You always like odd things and, honestly, there’s something really nice about it. Kinda mesmerizing. I like the shiny purple of it. I doubt it could fit in a human body though... I dunno, have you tried it?”

Akechi sputters, giving Akira a shove and sending him toward the door.

Akira laughs brightly.

Akechi feels all over the place, hair falling from his elastic and getting in his eyes. He goes to slip it behind his ear, but it keeps falling in front of his face and sticking to his skin and he’s going insane, he really is. “This- this isn’t funny! This is so incredibly private. This is... No one was ever supposed to know. I went through great lengths to keep this place a secret from everyone but what does it matter now?! Now you know I’m a freak. Now you know —”

“Oh, Goro, no, it’s alright!” Akira holds both hands up as he chases Akechi back in. “I mean it! No shame. I’m happy you’re happy! It’s healthy! I mean, I have sex too. I like...sex...things. I mean, maybe not this much, but... I, you know, have sex.”

Akechi groans loudly into the air, clamping his hands over his ears. “GAH. I KNOW. YOU DON’T HAVE TO TELL ME.”

“Sumi and I like...roleplay and stuff when we’re feeling creative. I’ve been tied up. That’s kinda kinky, right? And we’ve had sex while she’s on her period before. It was really...” He pauses and cringes. “Slick.”

“AKIRA.” Akechi holds his head and his stomach now. “That’s fucking disgusting. I’ve never ever wanted to know that about Yoshizawa! I’m going to fucking vomit. Oh, god, I’m going to be sick... Why are you doing this to me...?”

“Alright, alright, just trying to make you feel better. We all have our things. Do you really bring people down here though? I’ve never seen a single person come in, I feel like I would’ve noticed. Do you sneak them in or something? Are there more secret rooms? I noticed the chair in that odd black room. You know, at the front of the circlular entryway? Kinda like some weird ritualistic witchy thing. And the tracks leading ahead of it? Where does that lead?”

Akechi’s whole world is imploding and Akira’s grinning away.

“I’m just...so fucking curious. I thought I knew every last minor detail about you, down to your favorite kind of floss flavor. Fucking cinnamon tea tree. I was thinking you were still a virgin this entire time, like this enlightened monk in the purest mountains or something. I was like, whoa, how does he do it, you know? Sometimes I was a little worried, but then you said you were fine and...and asexual. Which I didn’t think meant this. I’m shocked right now, that’s all. Look at you, Goro! All...cock-loving and...I dunno. I’m so... But I don’t think any less of you either way. I’m just really curious. I mean. Are you still a virgin?” He looks around the room, thinking hard. “I guess that could be another explanation for all this, huh...? Which, uh, no judgement there either. Again with the curiosity. Sorry, sorry, sorry. My mind’s all over the place. Ha ha ha. This is insaaaaaane.” He makes a soft explosion sound as he clenches and opens his fist.

Akechi groans, agonized. He tosses himself at his desk and sags over it, closing his eyes tightly. What does he do? Tears prick at the backs of his eyes as he realizes there’s no way out. Akira’s his family. Akira’s the only person on this planet he still loves. He can’t lose him. This is his deepest dirtiest shame and Akira sees everything.

He sniffs roughly, rubbing at his face with the back of his hand, emotional to a fault. Another wave of humiliation rolls over him. Akira’s so perfect and wonderful and normal and Akechi’s always known he was nothing in his shadow, but still, to have it revealed, to have it known.

He’s a disgusting kinky fuck. He wants to disappear so badly.

“Oh, Goro, don’t cry,” Akira says softly. He reaches forward and puts his hands on Akechi’s shoulders, giving it a little squeeze. “You know I don’t judge. It’s just another part of you I love and respect. It’s healthy to have hobbies, I mean it. I’m glad you do.”

Akechi closes his eyes. This. This isn’t healthy.

“And if collecting sex toys and mounting them on your wall like hunting trophies is your hobby, then more power to you, yeah? Shit. Are these hunting trophies?” He laughs. “Your poor poor victims.”

“...I swear to fucking god —” He sniffles wetly.

“No, no, no, just kidding. Just teasing. Bad timing. Can’t turn it off. Swear to god, I won’t tell a soul.”

Akechi feels his insides tighten. He knows that doesn’t include Yoshizawa.

“Even Sumi,” Akira says, crossing his heart. “No one. Your secret is safe with me. You know that, Goro. You know that.”

“Just get out,” Akechi says wearily, still unable to look him in the eyes. A tear falls pathetically to the desk and he shakes his head, feeling heavy and stupid and like lead. “...Get out. I’m going to fucking die of humiliation. I hate how you’re joking about this. This isn’t a joke. This is my deepest shame and you’re in the middle of it, prancing around like it’s some sort of entertainment. I want to die. I hate this.”

“Goro...” Akira is so soft. “I mean it.”

“So do I. Get out.”

“But you haven’t told me —”

“— Akira.”

“Fine,” Akira sighs again, heavier this time. “I’ll go. This doesn’t change anything though. You know that, right? Nothing ever could between us. Love you...” He adds hopefully as he gives Akechi’s shoulder a warm squeeze. “You’re still my favorite person in the whole wide world. Don’t tell Sumi I said that though.”

He probably says that to Yoshizawa too. Akechi hates liars.

“Please,” Akechi whispers, bowing forward even more over his desk.

“Alright, Goro,” Akira says quietly. “I’ll leave you alone tonight. I’m sorry. I’m not going to tell anyone.” He walks out slowly.

Akechi’s exhausted. Why did he trust Akira to stay home at his request? Why did he think Akira would listen when he said he didn’t want him down here? He’s always giving Akira the benefit of the doubt and Akira knows he will. So here he is. Always fucking pushing him.

It’s not his fault. Akechi knows Akira barges in all the time. He knows to close the secret entryway behind him, but he was so sloppy, so careless —

Akira stops outside the door. “Those tracks... I can hear the wind howling from here...like it’s beckoning. It’s so...odd. And that red velvet curtain...it’s blowing in the wind, Goro. How? Where does it lead...?”

“Oh my — It’s none of your fucking business. I told you to get out!” Akechi bellows, slamming his hand to the desk. The cocks bounce. “And don’t even think about touching the —”

There’s a loud hiss and a sharp resolute snapping sound. And then Akira says mildly: “Oh...shit.”

Akechi straightens. No. He did not.

“Uhhhh. Uh, Goro? Come here a sec. I think I might’ve touched the thing.”

Without a second of hesitation, Akechi darts out of the room, but he already knows just what he’ll find. This is exactly how all of his dreams begin. As he takes in the sight of Akira, reality and fantasy blur into one for a moment and Akechi, tired and mortified and horny, isn’t sure where he is in time and space.

This cannot be happening.

Akira is in the dark, seated on the chair over the tracks. The only light in the black room comes from the open door Akechi hangs on, and it barely reaches, only softly illuminating the back of Akira, casting deep shadows over his front.

Calmly, Akira looks down at the chains on his wrists and ankles and then back up at Akechi. “I seem to be stuck.”

Akechi stares back. He blinks hard a few times, trying to wake up. Half of the time, in Akechi’s dreams, Akira flails and panics and weeps. The other half, he behaves just like this, calm and odd and collected like this.

It feels like a dream. It should be a dream. It’s behaving exactly like them. That’s good news, then Akira doesn’t actually know how much of a freak Akechi is. Great. That’s great.

But, staring down into Akira’s big silver eyes, Akechi isn’t completely sure.

“Can you uh...get me out? Maybe? Would be nice.”

“What?” Akechi asks blankly.

Akira narrows his eyes on Akechi’s face as he bites roughly at his bottom lip. “Hey. Stop that. Don’t you freak out on me, okay? Stay here. Right here. ...This is a sex thing, isn’t it? A sex thing in your very sexy sex dungeon. I uhhh...I mean, still no judgement, but I think the whole experience is probably best saved for your partners. I’d like to just get out of this seat, leave, and then you and I can pretend this never ever happened, that I have no idea any of this exists, and just live in blissful ignorance about each other’s sex preferences and dungeons and all that for the rest of our lives. Sound like a plan?” When Akechi doesn’t blink or move, Akira says again, sharper this time, “Goro.”

“O-oh. Right. Yes. Good.” Akechi mumbles, stumbling over his feet as he pulls away, “Yes. It shouldn’t be on. As long as it isn’t on and doesn’t start, I can undo them. Just...just wait here.” He walks toward the door on the other side that connects to the behind-the-scenes hallway. “...Wait there.”

“Not going anywhere,” Akira mutters beneath his breath.

In a daze, Akechi steps into the new darkness of the viewing hall. There’s one-way glass between this hall and the view outside and Akechi bats the thick red velvet curtains out of the way to blink through it.

Akira sits there casually. Too casual to be fucking normal. He should be panicking, right? He should be freaking out? If this were real. The only sign of discomfort at all is the tension holding his shoulders up tight slightly. Barely anything. Akira can’t be that together.

Akechi looks down at his arm and gives himself a sharp, abrupt pinch. He jumps. “Ow. Fuck,” he rubs at his arm and frowns harder. Does pinching even really work in dreams though? He doesn’t fucking know. He’s not that sort of genius. Actually, he’s starting to seriously doubt he’s any sort of genius at all.

Akira looks calm, but he’s deep breathing, something he’s always done since he was a kid when times get rough. “Goro...? Did you fucking leave...?”

Akechi presses a button on the wall, turning on the speaker between them. “Sorry. No, I’m here. Arsène usually does this part. I don’t know where anything is anymore. Just let me, um...”

The machine powers on. The bright lights outside dim down and snuff out, leaving only the low flickering of candlelight. It reflects warmly off the rock-y walls. The vines that crawl up the entryway to the tall heavy wooden door in front of Akira look red. The seat begins to move forward on the tracks, crossing over an old rickety bridge that hovers above a small black pond. Akira’s strapped over it.

“Uh,” Akira’s voice raises. “Goro...? Did you mean to do that?”

“I-I didn’t,” he replies dumbly. “It turned on by itself.”

“Oh. Uh. Didn’t you say, ‘as long as it doesn’t start’ I’ll be able to get out?”

“Yes,” Akechi breathes.

“Because it looks like it’s starting.”

“Yes. Um. Uh. Well.”

“Goro?”

“Uhhh.” Akechi is panicking. It doesn’t make any sense. He didn’t start it. It has a start button. It needs to be pressed. He wasn’t the one. “Just uh... Uuuuhhhh. Shit. Fuck. Everything’s okay! Just a second!”

“Goro, what do I do?” Akira says evenly, eyes steadily facing what’s ahead, but beneath the surface, there’s the first tremor. “Goro. Talk to me here.”

The seat lurches forward on the tracks, Akira’s head jolting and knocking against the back of the headrest. It’s part of the appeal, like a ride. Akechi loves his theatrics, of course. It’s rickety and noisy as it draws Akira forward at the start of an arc, like he’s at a theme park. It’s going to show Akira the wonders of his secret circular playground. The large wooden doors in front of Akira creak open and he’s doused into pure darkness, leaving the last traces of candlelight behind.

“Goro,” Akira breathes sharply. His voice echoes as if from faraway. “Goro!”

In the viewing hall, Akechi follows Akira down the long curve of one-sided glass. From this viewpoint, Akechi can see through the darkness what Akira cannot. Tiny stars spatter across the ceiling like a night sky, faint enough it’ll take Akira’s eyes a while to adapt to them. Glow-in-the-dark mechanical arms drape out from the walls, all waiting in sequence as the chair slowly draws Akira forward. They’re pale and long, tinged in pale porcelain blue: elegant hands attached to long delicate piano fingers.

“A ghost arm. Cool. Super. Cool. Goro, where the fuck are you?”

As Akira meets it, the arm comes to life, twirling in preparation before it reaches forward and touches Akira’s knee. He gasps and jolts and the arm reacts, shrinking away like a sentient thing. But it comes back and, when it does, it grabs Akira’s shirt. It quickly slices straight through the cloth and pulls it from his body.

Akira yelps slightly. “Okay,” Akira says tightly, gritting his teeth. “Alright. My shirt’s gone. Is my shirt supposed to be gone?”

Akechi worries at his lip, mortified and...and Akira’s creamy white chest is exposed. His pink rosy nipples are just a subtle hint in the darkness — Akechi made a special coating for the window so he could see colors in the dark — and, fuck, they’re beautiful.

He’s seen his chest before, of course, many times. They’ve been swimming together. They used to take showers in the locker rooms together and, sometimes, when they were younger, Akira hated being alone so much and they were so little it didn’t really seem to matter if they just...bathed together? Did it? They always used to. But it’s different here, knowing what this space is for. Knowing that Akira is tied down to a sex seat. Knowing this is Akechi’s secret private space and no one else is here, no one else at all. No one to hear Akira scream.

Akechi swallows hard, palm pressing to his throat nervously as he forcibly stops his wild thoughts. What? What the hell is he thinking?

“Oh,” Akira says, voice pitching several octaves higher. “Goro. You’re so quiet. What’s going on? Where is this thing taking me? And why? What’s this for? Goro. Please.”

“It wasn’t supposed to —” Akechi hurries down the long curved hallways, smacking at the velvet curtains as he goes. The length of the dark hall stretches out long and infinite before him; he tries to make out Arsène or any one of the other fucking useless robots who magically disappeared when he needs their help. This is so odd. Arsène is always around, always. He literally can sense Akechi’s distress. Akechi is more convinced this is a dream by the second. “I don’t know why it turned on! I didn’t do it!”

“Okay. That’s fine. But what the hell is this...?” Akira asks unevenly as the next arm comes over at him, poking curiously at his ribs and slowly sliding up. He squawks and shies away. It waits in front of him, like it’s staring and gauging his reaction, before it swoops down, tugs at his pants, and pulls them down. Akira gasps as it tears them at the ankles and takes them away. “Um. And why is it undressing me? I get it if it’s for your other partners and stuff but Goro. Goro, I don’t want —”

“I know,” Akechi swallows hard. “There haven’t been other partners. No one comes down here but me.”

“Oh, good. So no random juices or fluids. At least there’s that, if nothing else. I mean, it looked clean, but...” He wrinkles his nose and cringes. “Hey, uh. Remember your Disneyland phase? When you were obsessed with how the rides worked?”

“Uh-huh. Yep. Yeah.”

Akira clears his throat. “This is why. Isn’t it.”

“Yep.”

“Okay. Great. I didn’t know that. I thought you just got really into Disney. A Disney fanatic. A mouse ear extraordinaire.”

“Yeah. No.”

“Right. That changes that whole Goro phase, doesn’t it? And I got you those Disney ears for your birthday that year. I’m feeling really stupid now,” he says, voice high and teetering. He gives a faint hysterical laugh as another arm comes in to brush through his hair. Another touches at his mouth, feeling him. “Maybe I should’ve been looking at other kinda toys instead...” He shifts his head sharply to the side and the arms flit away a few inches, confused. “God, what are these...? There has to be a stop button on this thing, right?”

“This isn’t a ride. It isn’t meant to be used! I just made it for fun, not function. I was going to add one eventually...but it wasn’t exactly my first priority seeing as no one was ever supposed to come down here and just SIT IN IT. What were you thinking? Are you some kind of idiot?”

“I mean...maybe?! You left the damn mysterious flame-lit staircase open, and then you have a mysterious hand carved seat sitting in the center of a small velvet covered room, hidden behind a fluttering velvet curtain?! All high quality velvet! It’s just the level of theatrics that really intrigues me, I’ve never seen anything like it! And you know how fucking curious I get! It’s like you knew all the elements that’d drag me right in! It basically had my name written all over it!”

“Did not. I told you not to sit in the damn seat!! The one thing I tell you not to do and you do it anyway!! You’re INFURIATING.”

“Goro, I’m an idiot, we both know this!! You should’ve put a sign on it or something! ‘Akira, stay the FUCK out!’”

“Oh, like that wouldn’t have drawn you in even faster. You weren’t supposed to ever know!! You were never supposed to be down here at all!! You’re the one who came in here, I told you to leave. No one ever listens!”

“Aghhh, FUCK. This is insane.” Akira jitters as the last of his clothes are ripped off and tossed away into the window. His boxers. The final arm holds them up in front of him like it’s mocking him before it carelessly tosses it away. “I’m naked! Great! I’m very very very very very naked! Torn right off! I loved that shirt and those boxers had my name embroidered on the waistband. Sumi gave them to me for our anniversary. Oh, my god... She’s going to be so pissed when I tell her a fucking ghost hand took it...oh my god...”

Akechi groans and says pitifully, “I’ll get you a new set...”

“F-fucking better.”

Akira is naked. Sitting in a seat. Vulnerable. Locked up. Right in front of Akechi. Akechi just stares.

If this is a dream, it’s strangely vivid today... Usually it blurs and skips the good parts. Usually, they don’t argue. Tonight, Akechi can see every detail, every little bit of Akira. His cock. His nude beautiful cock, soft and lying on his thigh. Akechi grits his teeth in shame as he feels himself growing hard at the sight alone. But he wants him so badly...it’s hard to breathe.

Akira keeps rambling, his speech getting faster the more nervous he becomes. “So. These little things touching me...they’re yours, right?”

“...Yeah. Arsène’s failed arms. I had to use them for something.”

“Fuck,” he laughs wildly. “Thought they felt familiar. In your secret lab, you were making the uh...The Penis Milker, wasn’t it? One would assume, given that, that this machine is in a similar vein. Yeah? So, uh. What’s this thing called?”

Akechi closes his eyes heavily. “...The Bottom Maker.”

“Oh boy,” Akira breathes in sharply as the next double doors begin to crank open with a loud ancient creak. “Okay. Yeah, that’s what I was afraid of. Yeah... That does not sound...good. Doesn’t sound uhhhh...what I want. Exactly. Goro. Goro, why would you make this?”

Warm hazy light floods over Akira as he continues to be carted forward into the next room.

Akechi says softly, “Every bit of my life felt like it belonged to you and I...I wanted something of you too. A little piece. I would’ve taken any piece. Any at all. Even if it was too small to see.”

“...What?” Akira says breathlessly.

He tsks, shaking his head quickly. This is too much, he’s crossed the line. He needs to stop it. “Shit. Hold on. Let me try to find Arsène. He has to be down here somewhere, he’ll know what to do.”

“Wait! You’re leaving?!” Akira whips out quickly, turning his head sharply up at the speaker. In the light, he looks so much more drained. So pale. “Goro, don’t leave me! I’m freaking out. I don’t want to be alone with these — with these arms. I’m trying to stay calm, but I’m scared.” His chest is heaving. He bites at his lip, grey eyes pale and bleached out. “I’m really scared.”

Akechi’s eyes widen at his reaction. In his mind, he hears the pleas of Akira, five years old and in the dark, clinging tightly to Akechi’s clothes and sobbing. Akechi remembers thinking Akira’s eyes were so impossibly big when they pleaded back then, just as they are now. “But! I can’t do anything from here —”

“Goro! Don’t leave me alone. You know how I am about being alone. I’m locked up. I don’t have any control. I don’t — I can’t — I’m naked. I’m very very vulnerable. Goro, I feel a panic attack coming on. I feel — I don’t want — Don’t leave me. Don’t leave — Everyone leaves — Everyone leaves — It’s so dark. These arms keep poking at me. It’s like that closet. I’m locked in that fucking closet and it’s so dark and your mom, Goro — your mom’s in the other room, isn’t she? And she’s — she’s — It’s so dark. Black. Pitch black. Shit. Shit, shit, shit, shit —” He gasps, eyes wild. “Shit. Goro! SHIT.”

“Okay,” Akechi breathes quickly. “Okay. It’s okay. Akira, it’s alright. I haven’t left. I won’t. I’m right here. On your left. See the glass? I can see you through it right now. I won’t leave you. I’m right here, I’m here. It’s okay, Akira. You’re not alone. We’re not in that house anymore and I won’t leave you. I promise. Nothing’s changed. You’re safe.”

“Mmm,” Akira moans, shivering.

The next room has lights, and even though it illuminates a room full of large glowing flowers, it only seems to make Akira’s heart rate speed up. There’s a body shaped mold in the center. It’s spread over the center of the tracks.

“What is that?” Akira whispers, flicking his eyes wildly at the glass, but he can’t see Akechi through that side, all he can see is darkness. “Why are there straps? It looks like some weird sort of BDSM mold-y bench thingy. Oh, fuck. Did you have a BDSM phase? Disney and BDSM. Fuck. What an evolution. I thought you didn’t...I thought you didn’t like people. Oh, fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck. I’m panicking. I’m full out panicking now, I can’t feel my fingers. Goro. Okay, not a virgin. Definitely not. Who then? Who would you take? You’re so fucking stubborn, I always thought you wouldn’t ever let anyone else touch you. Was it that guy who used to get pissed at me whenever I’d bring you lunch at your work? Oh, I knew he had it for you. He was so fucking annoying. He cornered me once, did you know that? He pressed me into the wall and got all up in my face and told me you’d never fall for a piece of shit like me. He pressed me to the wall. I just noticed this seat is heated.”

“What are you talking about?” Akechi gapes. “Who did that to you? Why didn’t you tell me immediately so I could fucking kill him?”

“So not him. Good. Good. He was a total tool. He wouldn’t have been good for you at all. I wouldn’t have liked that one bit. Asshole. Total asshole. But you probably shouldn’t kill him,” he laughs, voice high and hysterical. “Probably not. Though you have the space for it, huh?” He laughs harder. “Oh my god, then you’d really be like The Phantom.” He cackles, out of control.

“...Akira,” Akechi whispers. “Akira, breathe.”

The seat slows at the end of the mold and lifts. It begins to tilt forward so that Akira, bound to the chair as he is, has no choice but to be presented into the mold face first. He makes a startled sound as gravity pulls him forward and his legs spread open, each one shifting over each specific side. He falls in. And he fits into the mold perfectly.

The front half of his body sinks into each specific hole for each specific body part. His back half is out to the open air.

“Oh, god,” Akira breathes faintly, tilting his head so that his face isn’t smooshed inside. He has no choice though, there isn’t enough space to lift his head backwards and out of it. His face plops down into the mold and he breathes into it heavily. From inside, a camera captures every minute change in Akira’s expression.

Vents inside the face mold begin to inject a blast of sweet air into Akira’s face. He moans, momentarily stunned by it all, the fight falling right out of him as he settles into place. His eyes go dark and hazy, his lashes fluttering.

“Whoa...” A burst of laughter rolls out of Akira’s throat. “Oh, Goro. Oh, no. Please do not tell me...that what I think is about to happen...is going to happen...” He’s panting over the bench, loopy laughter coming deep from his throat. “Oh, god. I’m being drugged. ...I feel weird. Please get me out. Goro. Please try to find a way. I really don’t like this. I really don’t like this. I really really really really don’t like this...”

“Then I have to find Arsène.”

“No. No, don’t leave me. Everyone...everyone leaves...”

“Akira. What do you want me to do? I can’t do both.” He cups his hands around his mouth and shouts down the hallway, “Arsène!! Arsène, YOU PIECE OF SHIT ROBOT, WHERE THE HELL ARE YOU?! WE NEED YOU — RIGHT!! NOW!!! THAT’S AN ORDER. I’M SO SERIOUS RIGHT NOW.”

Nothing responds but Akira’s delirious laughter.

Akechi jitters. “He’s not answering for whatever reason. I have to find him if we want this thing to stop.”

“No, no, no,” Akira moans into the face mold, closing his eyes and panting unevenly. “Nooo... Don’t leave me. Oh, god... No.”

Akechi swallows hard, pressing a hand tightly over his clavicle as he watches Akira panic with wide entranced eyes. Somehow, watching him like this, afraid and breaking down, just makes Akechi so much more in awe over him than even before. He’s still so beautiful... Even faced with this. Akira is elegance. Akira is grace. He’s everything and more...

“Everything in this space was made by my own hands. None of it was ever made to hurt you, Akira. It was always designed with pleasure in mind.”

Akira groans and shakes his head. “I just wanna go home. I wanna go home, oh god... Why didn’t I just listen to you...? Sumi...”

Inside the viewing hall, an arm descends before Akechi and waits. He stares down at it, eyes wide. It seems to stare back. He knows what he’s supposed to do here — he’s the one who made it, after all. It wants an offering.

Akechi looks back up at Akira, who’s crammed into a body mold, muttering nervously about stop buttons and how they really should be the first thing installed in any machine, what was Akechi thinking? And then Akechi looks up at the wall behind him, one that looks very much like the one in his secret lab — coated in delicious selections of big and small cocks. Wide and thin cocks. Human and non-human. Ridged and smooth.

What an absolutely strange dream he’s having. Akechi has never made it this far before. It’s never been this cohesive, this even. ...He’d hate to sabotage it. He’s felt so shitty for so long, head filled with this twisted aching loneliness, these thoughts of despair and pain, doesn’t he deserve some joy at least in a dream? He never lets himself step out of line ever. And he’s been miserable for so long.

He must’ve fallen asleep on his bed, that’s what this all is, nothing more. Dreamt that he walked down here and Akira followed him in. It’s a little treat. An evolution of his own coping methods. He’s adapting to the sorrow in his life...with this.

...Because how on earth could he really be capable of something this cruel? He loves Akira, truly, and, whatever his desires, he’d never let this happen to him, so this can’t be real.

He looks down the long empty hall on either side of him. The plush red and gold rug rolls out long as far as the eye can see, but there’s no Arsène. Arsène’s always around, but he wouldn’t be in a dream, would he? It all makes sense.

Quickly, before Akechi can think about it anymore, he grabs a twin dragon dildo off the wall and shoves it into the arm’s waiting hand. Just as quickly, he turns away.

Fulfilled, it ascends back into the port in the ceiling. It descends on Akira’s side in a split second, connected now to a tube from the end.

Akechi bites hard at his lip, shuffles about in place for a moment, and then presses the next button beneath the window.

The flowers at the edges of the room begin to shiver as they awaken. From their centers, a soft sparkling pink haze shoots up into the air in large thick puffs, thickening the weight in the air further. The bits of glitter look heavy themselves, like droplets of moisture weigh it down. It begins to grow foggy and pink inside.

Akira gasps wetly. His thick eyelashes flutter. “Mmm... What...is this? Something’s letting off some sort of...some sort of... Mm... It’s...sweet.”

“It’s...a pollen of sorts.” Akechi swallows, eyes trained on him. His voice lowers, a low rough scratch. “...I made it myself. Did you see the flowers when you came in? They’re specially crafted. I — How do you feel?”

“It’s...” Akira moans softly, closing his eyelids down as he soaks in the scent. “Heavy. But good... It’s making me kinda dizzy... Mm...” He probably doesn’t even realize as he parts his legs open wider in the mold. “‘S good...”

“It might. It’s supposed to calm you.”

“Your partners uh...” Akira’s voice is going lower, huskier. He clears his throat and shakes his head, but it only sends his eyes spinning. He tries unsuccessfully to blink that away too. “Your partners like this?”

“There are no partners, Akira. Remember? Only you.”

And he likes it, Akechi notices. Akira’s cock gives a little twitch and the softness of him begins to harden.

It’s happening.

Akira’s...he’s reacting. To him. To Akechi.

“And you...?” Akira asks.

And him. Akechi is too busy watching on in awe. It’s biology. It’s what he made the pollen for anyway, as he got to work splicing DNA and working and reworking different combinations from different creatures, all related to crazed sex and feverish mating and incessant breeding. To see Akechi’s own creation, after so much work, so many thankless hours, thinking it would never see the light of day... Well... Still, in the dark, his creation wafts through the air, but Akira is here this time. Akira is in it. Akira, who is responding to it.

It feels like nature’s miracle. Akechi’s little flower is fucking Akira’s mind.

“Goro?” Akira mumbles drowsily. “Goro, can’t hear you... Are you still there...?”

Before Akechi answers, Akira gasps sharply. The mold is not made of flat static walls. It has compartments, openings...hands. The compartments begin to open one by one, releasing hands from the silicone, where they wrap and touch up Akira’s body and thighs.

They’re soft. They’re gentle. Just a delicate touch to ease him into it, feel up the length of him, test out the waters.

Akira will have none of it; his thighs twitch as he fights but his ankles and wrists have been bound from behind, locking him into the mold, and all he manages to do is sway his ass through the air, looking like he’s seeking something to fill it.

Akechi feels faint. If he turns the last bit of his thoughts off, it almost looks like Akira’s trying to ride the machine, not fight his way out of it. There’s the sweet buck of his hips backward before they fall right back into their designated place. And then again. And again. The sharp crack of his groin against hard silicone. The soft grunts of his struggles...

“G-Goro. Goro. Are you here? Did you leave?” Another hand wraps around his thigh and massages tenderly, thumb skimming up his creamy white skin to the crack of his buttocks. He hiccups, eyes widening for a brief moment before the haze takes back over and his head sloshes to the side of the mold. The hand moves in deeper and Akira mumbles, “...Goro.”

Akechi doesn’t want to speak. He feels removed from his body, but Akira’s panic is infamous between the two of them. It would be cruel to abandon him.

From a distance, Akechi can hear himself murmur back, “I’m here...” His voice is low. Affected.

“Mmm. There you are, Goro... Do you see? Can you see? Can’t you...uh... Hmmm? I can’t...I can’t...think... Uh. Uhhh... The hand. It’s... Can’t you stop it? Can’t you — ah —”

The thumb slides over Akira’s crack, teasing slightly, running up his tailbone and over the small of his exposed back.

His voice is changing. Akechi can’t help but notice. He can’t breathe, listening to it. He presses his fingertips delicately against the base of his neck as he listens with razor sharp focus. Akira’s voice is deepening, thickening with a lust Akechi hadn’t expected. His cockhead is drooling over the robot’s hand, his sweet sponge-y tip wet and slick as the mechanical thumb presses tenderly to the slit.

Akira gasps sharply, causing Akechi’s cock to give an excited twitch in his pants. His cheeks are as heated as Akira’s. He can feel his pulse in his fingertips.

These are not just any hands. They’re prototypes of Arsène’s he couldn’t let go to waste. One particularly horny and sad night, Akechi had Arsène analyze the highest quality of porn available online and he made him learn, made him practice. His hands are like magic now.

And now, they manipulate Akira, only wishing for his pleasure. His cock is thick and ripe, the veins already bulging in response to Arsène’s expert hand. It looks as if he’s almost ready to spill. And they’ve only just begun, he hasn’t even been penetrated.

Akechi’s seen Akira in the throes of passion, not that he wanted to, not really. And this...is so much better. He’s so sensitive today. He gasps in Akechi’s special hormone air and groans. He twitches and shudders at every hand that touches him. Any second now, he’ll come, won’t he? ...Won’t he? Because of Akechi, because of what he made for him.

Akechi groans softly into his shirt, lifting the collar and pressing it to his face in a weak attempt to hide how this sight is affecting him. He doesn’t want Akira hearing him.

Slowly, he reaches one hand beneath his waistband and feels the silky hot mess in his pants.

He closes his eyes for a blissful moment and touches.

...Oh.

The control panel in front of him blinks red. The ready light turns on. And the control stick’s glass case lifts up and gives Akechi access.

Akechi stares at it. And then up at Akira and the arm, where it’s come down from the ceiling and positioned itself about a foot away from Akira’s entrance, looking very at the ready. It’s pointing the tip of Akechi’s chosen dragon dildo straight for Akira’s hole, bulging and thick with its fantastical knotted base and its shivering golden scales. Akira’s none the wiser.

If it’s just a dream, well... No harm done. Right? Akira’s just in bed right now, safe, at home. Dreaming his own sweet dreams. Maybe about sex, just like Akechi is. Indulgent and free to do as he pleases. Akechi wants to be that free too.

Hand trembling, Akechi reaches forward and wraps his fingers around the control stick. He gives it a tiny nudge, watching in awe as the arm begins to move in with his will. He stops breathing as slowly, gently, the arm lowers Akechi’s magnificent dragon dildo’s tip to Akira’s presented hole.

Akira’s face is so delectably red...eyes hazy and drunken, drugged. “Help me... Goro.” Calling his name. “Help me...mmm...help...”

Carefully, Akechi presses the tip of the dildo to Akira’s hole. Not inside, not yet, just touching the surface of him. Akira makes a soft surprised choking sound in his throat and his drooping eyelids fly wide. Heated lube begins to travel through the tube and pour out the tip, shooting into and all over Akira’s body. It pulses over Akira’s inner thighs and coats the mold.

For all his talk about experience, Akira reacts like a virgin to it. He can’t move, can’t shy away, all he can seem to do is arch his back. A natural reflex? It makes it easier. The dragon cock kisses the entrance of his body, injecting, injecting, injecting.

“Ohhhh...” Akira whines. “Goro, where are you?” There’s so much desperation in his voice.

Akechi’s breath catches in his throat as he watches Akira writhe as he’s covered, choking out Akechi’s name. ...Beautiful. He’s so beautiful like this. It must be his first time this way. His cuffs clatter noisily as he struggles. His face cringes tightly, his toes curl in the air. The calm that he had been fighting so hard to keep dries up. It isn’t an infinite well, after all. He fights and thrashes against his chains. It’s futile. He’s prey and he’s been caught. He must take it.

Wide-eyed, Akechi presses his open hand to the glass, staring in, fogging up the glass. He rubs at it frantically so it won’t get in his way of the view, but only proceeds to smear his pre-cum over it instead.

Lube drips from Akira, slathering up the back of his thighs and pouring over the water over the tracks in a steady stream. He pants wildly, body rocking back and forth like he’s trying to break free, but that raunchy see-sawing movement...like he’s trying to shove his rear end closer into the dildo, like he wants the thing to penetrate him. Needs it to. Akechi’s lost in the sight.

He’s got to help him with that. With precise sure movement, Akechi pushes the control stick forward and the dildo’s head slowly pushes deeper into Akira’s hole, pulling apart the tight virginal band of muscle and forcing its way inside. The cockhead pops in.

Akira wheezes, pupils dilating fully. His mouth drops open. “No.”

He isn’t gay, he says. He doesn’t want anything inside him. But look how perfectly it fits...

Akechi’s heart beats wildly against his chest as he leans his forehead into the glass, panting. Oh... This is it. This is the piece that fits into the dark hole in his heart, the solution to the chaotic running his mind is always doing, the loud drone of his wildly depressive mind. This is it. This is it. Who needs money when you have dreams of Akira?

“No.” Akira’s gasping. “No. Goro. Goro!”

He’s calling his name... Akechi’s floating. He leans his hips against the wall and subconsciously begins to hump into the ledge, feeling the push back of the wall against his wet aching hardness. He closes his eyes and drags his cock against it, biting harshly at his lip. Pleasure.

“Please stop it. It’s inside me. It’s inside me.”

It is. Oh, god... Looking at the screen of Akira’s face, Akechi pushes a few more of its scaly inches into Akira’s hole. Each scale provides friction for Akira and, like pores on human skin, releases an oily substance that relaxes and loosens muscles. It has to, if it has any hope of fitting inside a human body. It’s a monster. It isn’t for beginners, but it’s going to have to be today.

Akira cries out. It’s such an odd cry, Akechi’s never heard him make a noise like it before. Low and long and tormented, coming really deep from within his soul. The scales pull through the tight opening in his body until they finally reach the end, fitting snuggly at the knot. He won’t use that. Not today.

For a possible first-timer, Akira took it absurdly well. Not that he had a choice. He’s filled. Sitting on that ballooned knot. When he fights and struggles against it, he only manages to sink deeper over that protrusion and, every time he does, Akira’s pupils become pin pricks and his body is so tight and tense, he looks like he’s about to break. He’s wheezing, overwhelmed. He quickly learns to stop fighting.

Akechi is so beyond grateful his dream is holding out this clearly even still. It’s never been this good before. He leans his forehead heavily against the glass, face absorbing the cool contrast to his heated feverish skin. He pants faintly, lips pressing into the fog as he opens his mouth and moans. He’s so hard as he lowers a hand and strokes himself.

“Akira,” he breathes back, dazed and euphoric. “Akira...”

At the end of the control stick is a small golden button. Akechi places his thumb atop it and gives it a firm sturdy press.

The tube connected to the portal in the ceiling jerks slightly as liquids begin to fill it again. It slides through the tube and into the knot and shaft of the dragon’s cock. The dragon comes.

Akira gasps, his body going erect just like his red little cock as a soothing calming gel floods him. It’s to prepare him. It’ll make him so docile for the next room. So readily and easily manageable.

“Hot,” he wheezes tightly. “So hot... There’s something pumping inside me... I’ve never — No one’s ever —!”

“Akira...” Akechi gasps, orgasm fast approaching. It’s tugging at him, bursting through the grey monotony of everyday life and sending his mind alight with cutting color and rare elation.

Not yet. Not yet. What a shame it would be for this to ever end. He takes his hand off his cock and lets it recede. Lets the wave fall away.

Akira’s going the opposite direction. His eyes are beginning to swirl with each flutter of his delicate eyelids. With a loopy moan, his muscles loosen and he has no choice but to sink his weight deeper into the bench, limpened. Putty.

“Feel good?” Akechi whispers, looking into the screen of Akira’s cock, which is squelching against the walls. He’s gotten wet all on his own along the way. Akechi almost can’t believe it. After all that denial, Akechi wondered if it was true — that Akira was so undeniably straight that he wouldn’t be able to physically respond to taking it up the ass. But he is. And they haven’t even delved into his mind yet.

...What would happen then? Already, Akira’s face is plastered inside the mold, smeared across the camera lens. He looks totally out of it. The dragon has mounted and conquered him.

With a small ding, the wooden panel on Akechi’s right slides open and a small glass of milky fluid is presented under a tiny spotlight. Akechi raises his eyebrows and walks over to retrieve it. He stares into the milky substance and then looks back up at Akira in awe.

“Did you...did you come...?” Akechi asks on a soft whisper.

Akira moans weakly. “Stop...” He mumbles, red lips wet as they rub against the camera. “Stop it...”

Akechi allows himself to indulge in this moment. It’s okay to — really, it is — because Akira’s still at home right now. Safe, with stupid fucking Yoshizawa. Probably fucking her, despite how little she’s actually done for him. He can’t stand how Akira fucks her. It was supposed to be him, he loves Akira most. It should’ve been him...

Thinking of it, Akechi crams down on the golden button and the tube trembles with the speed and force of how much it injects inside.

Akira’s body twitches and jolts, victim, as he cries out loud in shock. He comes in the machine again, hard and fast. Just as quickly, with a soft sigh, his eyes close. His whole body goes limp.

The compartment for his cock drains the overfill of his fluids and, with a soft ding, the wooden panel beside Akechi reopens, producing another new glass of milky substance.

Magic.

The mold begins to lift backward, shucking Akira out of its tight chambers and returning him into the seat on the tracks. Boneless, his head falls against the back of the head rest, neck tilting his face toward the sky. He does not move.

With wild unruliness in his eyes, Akechi slaps another button. A mechanical arm plucks one of the flowers on the perimeter and brings it over to Akira to fit neatly over his face. Its large sweet petals reach up to cradle his cheeks, encompassing it completely like it’s sentient. It wants Akira for itself. It begins to pulse gently, soft suckling noises filling the air.

The mold is discarded through a portal in the ground and, just like magic, tracks grow over the top of where it once stood. Again, Akira is on the move, being pulled further down the path and through the next thick double doors. The next room is higher and Akira ascends out of the thin layer of water. It drips off the back of the seat.

He enters the third room.

Through the viewing hall, Akechi travels carefully parallel, fingertips trailing over the glass as he follows Akira with both his eyes and his body. He pushes through large red velvet curtains and enters into the third and final room. A plush red armchair sits at the glass viewing window, placed right up to the controls. Arsène sits there, looking out at Akira as he’s brought into the center of this space. The flower is still pressed over his face, swallowing him whole, pulsing over him like it’s absorbing his life force. Akira is helpless within it.

“There you are,” Akechi frowns, barely sparing him a glance. He stumbles around the chair and shoves himself up against the glass. “Thanks for listening when I called, I was looking for you! The thing just started all on its own. It brought Akira all the way through as he kicked and screamed. I couldn’t get it to stop. It was horrifying.”

“Was it? How terrible,” Arsène says, nonchalantly looking down at his razor sharp nails. He ticks them together. “But Master Akira looks like he’s feeling so good now.”

“Yeah,” Akechi breathes heavily, feeling his whole body tingle with wild eager energy. “Yeah, doesn’t he look so good?”

The thing is, even though this may all be only a dream, Akechi’s never felt so alive. He struggles usually, with day, with night, with everything. But this? Here? Everything inside and out of him is turned on. Life fills him. Bright impervious energy. He’s never felt like this before.

He looks down at Akira’s trim belly. How many times has he longed for and envisioned this moment? He always imagined there’d be a bit of bloat there from all the fluids. That full, Akira would be pleased, Akechi just knows it, but he still looks as thin as a rail. He needs to be filled. That’s what The Bottom Maker is for.

Akechi wishes now that he had held onto that golden button a little longer. The dragon’s cock is still planted up through the bottom of the seat, disappearing through the doors closed behind him. It looks strange planted inside his body, knot pressed against him, like Akira is some dragon’s breeding bitch now. He must serve his purpose.

“Did you see it earlier? Look at this.” He holds out the glass, Akira’s cum sloshing up the side of the cup. “He came. Because of me, Arsène. Because of what I’d made! Look at this.”

Arsène looks, thick eyelashes slanted down, casting shadows over his sharp cheekbones. He presses his fingertips delicately to his bottom lip as he hums, looking like a parent staring down at a gold star on a report. “Congratulations, Master. All that work you put in is finally bearing fruit. Master Akira must’ve been feeling much pleasure because of you, indeed.”

“He’s beautiful. Isn’t he,” Akechi murmurs as he brings the glass to his lips and gives a small experimental sip. “Mmm. Oh, god...” Heat, wild and fierce, floods through his body at the flavor of Akira. Like a wave, it crashes down over him, bathes him in Akira. God... There must be something inside Akira’s body that suits Akechi: hormones, pheromones, something, because the fever’s taking over his body. Over his brain. The supposed genius is stricken out of him and he’s dumb and empty. He only wants and needs one thing.

He presses his hand back to his neck, clutching at it and shivering slightly. He doesn’t even know why he does it. He wants to touch Akira. He wants to touch him so badly. Akira’s red and hard and he looks like he could come again any second now... Akechi could do that for him. He could go inside the room right now and bend to his knees, drape himself over Akira’s lap, and kiss his cock. Can suck it down his throat and swallow and be his cock slave. He’d do that so willingly. He’d need nothing else. Ever.

He takes another deep sip of Akira’s milk and closes his eyes tightly. Fuck. “He tastes so fucking good...” He says, agonized, the cum slowly traveling hot down his throat and into his core. Akira. “And he’s so beautiful.”

Arsène chuckles in amusement. “I’m not sure how you can tell with your flower over his face.”

“Yeah... It looks like it’s sucking on his face, doesn’t it?”

“That’s because it is. The flower is driven by your need. It’s trying desperately to feed him its seed. It wants to impregnate him.”

“It does, doesn’t it...?” Akechi whispers dreamily. He can see now, from here, Akira’s throat bobbing as the flower milks back. He’s sucking on it too. Ingesting what it’s giving him. Can’t help it. At one point, in nature, the sweet nectar it releases would’ve been the sperm it would transfer to reproduce, but it’s beyond altered now, changed by Akechi’s hand.

Now, it’s a thick sweet pollinated aphrodisiac, made to get Akira to lose his mind. It pleases Akechi so greatly to know that Akira likes it. Akira’s making such soft sweet noises as he laps it up, his brain telling him its the baby making juice he needs to continue his bloodline.

Akechi can feel himself blushing from his neck up to his cheeks. Akira likes his flower. He likes his creation. Akechi worked hard to make it taste the way it does, to make it make Akira feel like it’s so addictingly delicious. And the concoction is partly his own cum. Each droplet raining over Akira’s face is a part of him. And he wants it.

Arsène gets to his feet and watches Akechi evenly.

“What?” Akechi glares for a second before looking back out the glass. “You’re thinking something. Think it later, I’m busy.”

“Your sex hormone levels have elevated in a drastically sharp ascent. Your stress is nearly non-existent. You’re happy, Master.”

“No shit. Here.” He shoves the glass into Arsène’s hands and leans over the control panel, looking into the etched golden screen. He runs his hands over both sides but he stares through the glass, unable to pull his attention down.

He just...stares. Doesn’t know what to do with this. It’s like a star fell from the sky and into the palm of his hands and all he can do is just stare. What do you do when all your dreams come true for a few beautiful but brief moments? Akechi doesn’t know. He’ll wake up soon and regret he didn’t take action.

Arsène says gently, “Why don’t you go check on Master Akira while I load the program? You seem quite focused on him and he is so very fond of you. I’m sure your presence would be a great comfort to him right now. Beneath his drugged composition, I do sense an uncertainty about him still. Imbalanced. Afraid, even. It’s not usual of him.”

“Yes,” Akechi breathes. “Yes, good idea. I should make sure he’s alright.” He detaches himself from the control panel and stumbles to the small door on the side of the wall.

The final room. It isn’t so much a scene as the other ones were. The water is absent. There are no more flowers growing from the ground, no more cavernous rocks covered in vines for walls. No haze. The walls here are simple. Just six flat even sides boxing Akira into the center.

But the lights in here are blood red. Every surface is painted a deep stark blood, striped with a black swirling circle that begins in the center. It’s hypnotic from any angle, but the center loops around the bottom of the chair Akira sits in. From there, the circle spreads wider, gets larger the further away from Akira it goes.

Akechi named it The Velvet Room.

He steps carefully inside, shutting the door softly behind him. He doesn’t want to disturb Akira’s slumber. He takes a deep breath to try to clarify his mind, in case he falls prey to the room. There’s something about this space. It gets to him sometimes. He always makes sure to have Arsène around, just in case. There have been a number of times he’s gotten stuck, sitting dumb and limp on the floor, and he’s had to be rescued.

In The Velvet Room, there’s perfect silence. Just the odd rustling of petals sucking and fucking Akira’s face, the low gulp of Akira taking it in mindlessly. The occasional deep moan.

Akechi walks forward.

Akira is as still as the walls and silence here. His cock is erect, pointed to the sky, and the dragon’s cock is still snuggled up in his hole, knot at the ready to stick into him. His neck is slouched over the back of the seat, his face tilted up into its leached form.

Akechi approaches reverently, eyes wide. He has half a mind to kneel. To take Akira’s feet into his hands and place careful kisses up the arch and ankle. To grovel and climb and settle his head into his lap. Nuzzle his nose up into the warmth of his beautiful blessed cock. Whisper his love and adoration to him. He’ll be his mindless servant.

But he just stands there, frozen to the spot. Frozen in worship. Frozen in fear. In love. In lust. Because Akira is so much. Too much. And what’s being done to him is...

There are no words.

Is it horror? Is it elation? Is it love? Akechi doesn’t know, but this is all Akechi’s creation, bundling Akira hostage down here, pleasuring and playing with him. He feels everything inside of him like a wild storm, ripping and pulling and howling — with what? With what?

Arsène’s voice fills the air and Akechi blinks. He forgot about him.

“Master. The program is ready.”

Akechi tries to respond, but his throat is dry and it doesn’t make it out.

“Master. Are you alright?”

“Y-yes,” he says, feeling skittish. He takes an abrupt step forward and grabs at the flower’s stem, plucking it off Akira’s face. It gives a soft shriek and a little squelch as it resists him. Akira makes a perfect victim and it wants to keep taking.

Beneath the flower’s wet pulse, Akira wasn’t fully asleep. His eyes are cracked open, but his pupil is so deliciously dark, so vacant and primal. His lips part, stunned in awe. His skin is moistened and dewy — he just got a facial. The mixture of Akechi’s and the flower’s seed glitters over Akira’s porcelain face. He looks so right for it, ripe and breedable, the perfect taker for their sex pollen. Maybe he’s already pregnant.

Akira’s still, his eyelids hooded, his gaze dark and hazy and detached. He isn’t here anymore. Lips parted and glistened with Akechi’s cum, the tip of his tongue coated. He’s so loose. So lax. His cheeks are pink, his curly messed up hair sticking to his skin with sweat. The flowers did something to him, something so good. He moves his neck slightly, staring blankly into the ceiling, just breathing softly, bathed in feeling and submission. Surrendering to Akechi, because of Akechi.

Transfixed, Akechi reaches forward. His fingers are shaking.

Akira’s mouth. His cherry red lips, so full of life, blossoming with vitality. Akechi could step up onto the seat’s sides, hold onto the backing, and sink his aching cock into his slick wet lips. The way Akira looks like this, Akira would probably even thank him. He reeks of sex, of breedability. Akechi wants him. Look at how much he’s managed to change Akira already. The Bottom Maker truly can do what he made it for. Is life really as hopeless as he thought just this morning?

But he’s not done yet.

Time for the next phase.

Breath hitching, mind filled only with the intoxicating scent of Akira and his mateable body, Akechi pulls back delicately. Like a drowning man, he escapes the heat and disorientating space that The Velvet Room is. He can’t believe he’s leaving Akira naked and vulnerable like this. When he can have him. He can have him.

When Akechi makes it back into the viewing hall, he gasps and immediately sinks into the wall as the cool air floods him. He’s so weak.

He tosses the shrieking flower away with a sharp flick of the wrist. It crawls away and writhes at the door to The Velvet Room, more creature than anything else.

“You stayed too long.” Arsène observes him closely. “You’re quite weak to it. You’ve always been that way though. The program hasn’t even begun.”

“Yes. Yes, I know,” he breathes, holding his torso tightly. He lets the back of his head hit the wall as he nods loosely to Akira. “He-he does this to me. You know that. God, he’s — Akira’s —” He swallows hard, touching his fingers to his throat, wanting someone else there. “...Just start it already. I’m not going to last much longer.”

“Yes, Master.”

It gets very intense in there. It’s hot in the room, muddying up the mind, making it difficult to think clearly. The air is thick with suggestion, with the smell of arousal. It was all his own doing.

Akechi sinks into the red armchair, safe behind the special protective glass. He reaches forward and presses the speaker button on.

“Akira,” he pants. He’s so impossibly turned on. He can feel his own sweat rolling down the back of his neck. He shakes his head quickly, but it just stirs up his heat and lust. “...Akira, can you hear me? Wake up. Wake up, Akira.”

It takes a lot. Akira’s much more out of it than Akechi predicted. He comes round slowly, movements sluggish and dazed.

“...G...G...?” He mumbles drunkenly, tongue thick in his mouth.

“Yes. It’s me. Can you understand me?”

“Mmm... I...” His eyes roll and he fights for control. He tilts his head forward and looks down at his body, blinking a few times. He stares at his erect cock uncomprehendingly. “I feel like...I’m gonna come...?”

“Yes, you will,” Akechi whispers. “That’s alright. It’s good that you’re feeling good. There’s no need to fight it...is there?”

Akira frowns at that, looking around the room in confusion. “Where am I?” His voice begins to clear. “Wh-what is this place?” As he moves, his eyes fly wide. He notices something. “Something’s...inside me.” He tries to part his legs wide but his ankle’s chains clank. “I f-feel full. I feel really full. My face is wet with — with —”

“Do you remember?”

His chest begins to heave. Eyes wide again. “Oh no. Oh no.”

“Try to stay calm,” Akechi murmurs. “I’m right here. I’m still with you. You’re safe.”

“Goro,” Akira wheezes hysterically. His calm is eviscerated. He’s staring at his naked body in horror, grunting as his struggles tighten his cunt around the massive intrusion. His eyes go feral and wild. “Goro, how is this safe?! What just happened to me? I was in a mold and I-I came and it was sucking at me. That-that flower thing. It was like...feeding off of me or something. It was doing something... It was feeding me. I was drinking it. I couldn’t stop drinking... It made me feel so good. Oh, god. What was I drinking?”

“It’s alright,” Akechi soothes. “Shh, shh. Don’t worry about that, it’s all part of this process, The Bottom Maker is just to make you feel good and that’s all. I would never let anything hurt you. I promise. You know that. Just allow yourself to feel pleasure. You could be happy here...I know it.”

“Bottom Maker,” Akira breathes, and his head snaps up as he has a grand realization. “Oh, god.”

Akechi begins the program.

“Goro! GORO. STOP. STOP IT. I don’t want this.”

The stripes beneath Akira’s seat begin to twist outward, sliding across the floor, pulling away, slowly, at first, and then going faster. They begin to move, hypnotic like taffy, round and round and round. Reaching out into infinity and returning to the center, a neverending dizzying spiral.

Akira rears back wildly, but there’s nowhere to run. It’s behind him, above him, below, at all sides. Fully wrapped in the hypnotic twist of red and black, Akira’s mind and body are twisted into its flow and kneaded within.

Images project across the walls, sharp and colorful and huge, flashing through the red in all angles. Juicy meaty cocks. Cocks leaking. Cocks erect. Cocks in movement, bobbing eagerly through the air, twitching helplessly as pleasure overtakes. The word C O C K flits boldly across the screen in random brief intervals, too fast to avoid, too quick to catch before it’s imprinted into his mind and Akira, try as he might to look away, is swallowed whole.

Cock. Cock. Cock.

Akira wheezes, eyes wide as he jerks this way and that, staring in entranced fear. “Stop it,” he breathes. “Stop this. Stop.”

Akechi’s optical illusion phase. He was obsessed for a long while. Part of being a really weird genius, Akira used to laugh. He even brought Akechi to the local mystery spot to check it out. Akechi felt so inspired, he didn’t sleep for nights. Akira worried he was getting bad again, but in reality, he’d never felt more alive. That was a lifetime ago since. He just wants to feel alive again.

Here.

“Cock,” Akechi’s soft recorded voice pierces through the blood red speaker and fills The Velvet Room, dripping with dizzying energy.

“What?!” Akira cries.

An arm comes from the floor and grabs onto the dragon cock in his hole. It’s Akechi. Eyes wired and crazed, he begins to shift it out, slowly, carefully, watching as Akira struggles against it, torso twisting. He grunts and moans and pleads as the little gold scales pull against and slide in, pull and slide in... The knot is right there, squishing enticingly against his juicy cunt. It might fit... “Goro, get me out of here...”

“Shh, shh. It’s alright,” Akechi whispers softly, eyes razor sharp focused on the dragon dildo pulling its way out of Akira’s hole. The head spreads his hole wide before popping out with a wet squelch and Akira cries out, hips jutting forward in a small fuck as he’s emptied.

“Feels weird,” he sobs. “Feels so weird.”

“You want it again?” Akechi asks.

The speaker continues. “You can’t explain it, but, suddenly, you’re starting to get this peculiar craving... You thought before you didn’t have any interest in such a thing as cock. That it was for other people, but not for you. But have you ever considered, truly considered...you’re wrong, Akira. There’s a whole new world out there for you, a world you could sink into, succumb to. Love. I know it. Because I’ve been watching you and I can tell. I can see it, your secret plain as day. You want to try it. COCK. You want to taste it. COCK. You want to feel it... Outside and in. You’ve been so empty. This can fill you. COCK.”

“No!” Akira gasps, sobbing. His entire body tightens as the dragon cock begins to push into him again. He lifts, thighs no longer touching the seat, all of his weight balanced over the tip of the dragon’s meaty cock head. “No. Goro!” He wheezes, bending forward at his hips and going tense all over. He screams as it pierces through his hole and his ring of muscle swallows the head whole. Slowly, he sinks over the length as he growls, back arching as he paints the back of the seat. “Goro, where are you?! Stop this...! Where’s Arsène? Find Arsène. I don’t want this. Stop it! Goroooo!!!” He sobs. “Goro, please!” He’s back to fitting neatly over the seat, the dragon’s cock completely disappeared. Swallowed whole.

Gigantic cocks float over the blood red walls, pressing up into his face. They flash over his eyes, reflected over their glassy surface.

“You want it. You need it. Feel it filling you. What you thought would hurt begins to bring you pleasure. So much pleasure. You don’t want women, Akira. You never really have, have you? You want a man to fill you. A man to treat you tenderly. You want me and my cock.”

Akira sobs, trying to buck out of the seat, but he’s too buckled down. His hands strain and his feet twist. “I hate it. I hate this. I hate it. My head... It hurts... It’s penetrating my mind... My mind.”

Akechi speeds up the tempo of the dildo bouncing into him, carefully and precisely avoiding the knot.

“Ah —!” Akira cries, throwing his head back and forth, mouth open wide to the sky. Body tossed to and fro. “AH!!”

His body tenses and his hips snap as high up as they can, bound as he is. He isn’t used to this sort of penetration, he can’t hold it in, and he begins to come. Shooting wildly from the tip of his cock, milky liquid splatters across the red and black swirling floor.

What a waste of perfectly good Akira milk.

Shit. Wait. He forgot.

Before Akira finishes climaxing, Akechi lunges for the control board and changes the track. An arm comes down from above and grabs at Akira’s head, pulling it back against the headrest and forcing his eyes open with its fingers, making him see. Images flit by of cocks bursting, legs spread wide and guzzling cum, images of the aftermath of climax, twisting in that aching red and circling over him as he comes along with them. Sex-filled moans, indulgent and crying out, fill the air. Akira adds to them.

“Ah-ah-ahhhhhhhhh...!” Akira gurgles, struggling against the force of the mechanical arm, but forced to take it all in. So much. Too much. Spinning. Everything’s twirling around him, twisting him up, wringing him out. He’s too weak to fight against Arsène and all his inhuman might. He must look, he must change. He comes again, sperm puddling over his thighs, making a mess of himself.

Akira is usually someone so clean, so together. And now he’s gone and soiled himself. Akechi whimpers, biting into his fist.

“Pleasure...” The voice echoes all around them. The spinning continues, the red lights pulsing and penetrating into Akira’s vulnerable little brain. “Cocks make you feel so good. You love it inside of you. You love everything about it.”

“No! I-It’s a lie!” Akira breathes, but his voice is worn and wrecked from climax. His eyes roll back in his head, but he fights for clarity, fights for his own free will. “I don’t. I don’t like that. I don’t want cock. I don’t. Goro, help. Help me. Help me... I’m...I’m fading. Oh, Goro... Oh... Goro, please.... Goro... Go...ro...”

Akira’s losing.

The recording continues to play.

“Whenever you come downstairs and see this chair, you’ll immediately be inclined to sit in it. Whenever you see me, you’ll be filled with desire, with this undying need to fuck me and be fucked by me. More than anything you’ve ever felt... And whenever we’re outside this room, if I ever snap my fingers like this —” the sound of a loud clear snap echoes throughout the room — “then you’ll enter The Velvet Room state. You’ll be brought back to this space. To the intoxicating heat, to the pleasure this brings you, to the feeling of uncontrollable lust and desire burning through you for cock. You need to be filled by it or you’ll die. You’ll need it. Now, now, now.”

It repeats. The swirling hypnotic circle pulling him in, grabbing at his focus and drawing him through. The recording plays again. Cock, cock, cock, subliminal messages penetrating deep. Deeper. In, in, in. Bashing against his defenses again and again, targeting the cracks and ripping and tearing, spreading inside. Infiltrating. Infection. His. All his.

“Hnngnghhh,” Akira groans, arms clenching and pulling at his binds. The cock in his ass keeps working on him. His eyes are spinning as his jaw drops wide and dumb. “Go...ro...”

“You love it. You’ll crave it forever now.”

Akira’s resistance falters. His protests begin to quiet down. And he moans loudly. ...In pleasure.

Oh my god.

Akechi looks closer.

Oh, dear god. It’s working. It’s actually working! It’s a sex moan. It’s definitely in pleasure.

“Arsène,” Akechi whispers excitedly, grabbing at his arm and clutching tightly. “Look at him! Look!! Oh, fuck!” He grips at his hair with both hands as he gasps in awe.

“Yes,” Arsène says, amused.

“Ah —” Akira breathes out, high and loving. His back arches to accept the cock at the best angle. “Ahhh...”

Akechi can’t help himself. As Akira parts his legs open wide, he throws the control stick all the way forward and the knot pops inside.

“AHH!” Akira’s hips crack forward like a bolt of lightning’s struck him. And he’s coming again, hips thrashing wildly as he screams, the knot making him feel so full.

He closes his eyes...and rides it, head flopping dizzily this way and that.

Blissful. Defeat.

Akechi flips the images again, bursting cocks. Cum. Filled holes. Swirling all around Akira as he sloshes his head from side to side. The mechanical arm holding Akira’s head gives his hair a sharp tug back and he gasps, startled, cracking his eyes open for it.  Neck pulled straight, Akira watches the visions pass by him, wash over him, absorb inside of him. His bottom lip hangs, wet and dumb, as he stares lovingly into the images. His eyes are hazy and unfocused.

“It feels so good,” the speaker drones on and on.

“...It...it...does?” Akira whispers weakly, voice twisted into something new, something odd. It doesn’t sound like him at all. “It feels...so good...? Yes... Good...I think...?”

“It feels better than any other sex you’ve had... You want to be the one penetrated.”

“Penetrated...” He gasps in understanding, eyes going wide. “Penetrate me!”

“You want to take cocks deep inside yourself. You want to be a bottom. Only a bottom. That’s you, Akira. My bottom.”

He says it all like a mind blowing revelation, voice loopy and high, floating. “Yours, Goro... I’m your bottom.”

“Mine. All mine. It’d please you so much to be so. So weak to me... My possession. My doll. Mine.”

Akira swallows hard, mouth open wide as he tilts his head back into Arsène’s arm, baring his neck for the taking. His voice is deranged and high, a far cry from his usual sturdy depth. “Ahhnnn...yes, take me. Y-Your doll... Yes... Yes? Yes...oh, yes...”

Akechi watches, entranced. It’s excellent. So wonderful. It’s the first positive sign he’s seen throughout this whole thing. Akira might be a bit confused, but he’s wanting. Knotted and stuck over a dragon’s impossible cock.

“...Go...Goro...” Akira breathes, face flushed. “I’m your possession. I’m your plaything. It pleases me...to be...yours... Weak. I’m so weak. ...So very weak...”

“Yes,” Akechi breathes through the speaker, voice shaking. “You’re so weak for me.”

“For you, Goro,” Akira mumbles sloppily, hips slapping against the seat as he fucks and fucks and fucks. “For you. Taking...your knot. You’re so good to me...”

Akechi nearly faints right there.

That will have to be enough for today. Everyone knows the first step to mind penetration is to end on a high note. End on getting what you want. If Akira begins to resist again and they end it there, he’ll reinforce the struggle, not the surrender. And he so wants Akira to be bathed in the surrender.

“We’ve done it. My god. Okay. Step three,” he breathes.

The swirl begins to switch in the other direction. “Now, let your lessons settle deep into your subconscious where you can’t recall it to the surface...and forget,” it whispers. The messages flash across the screen.

F O R G E T.

Forget, forget, forget.

Akira weeps and comes again, thrashing in his binds. “I’ll forget,” he breathes, voice high and ditzy. “Yes, Goro... My master... I’ll forget...for you... So you can come and come and come inside me and I’ll never know, I won’t remember what you do to me. I’ll be your little secret from even me. Yours, Goro.” He laughs high and wild. “I’m all yours!”

Forget.

By the time the seat begins to continue on its tracks, drawing Akira out of The Velvet Room and into the viewing hall, Akira is drooling. So sweet. So dumb. So vacant. Just a sex toy, fried to completion. There’s a trace of the leftover smile still on the corner of his lips and his eyes are rolled back completely in his head. The cuffs no longer need to hold him down, he’s down as it is. The only slight movement there is is the occasional leftover reflexive twitch of his hips jerking forward.

Akechi turns anxiously as Akira is brought through the doors. Steam is basically coming out of Akira's ears, overdone, completed. He hasn’t moved at all and, yet, he looks so changed. Delicate, somehow. Vulnerable.

His legs are parted slightly, his spent cock laying in a mess of his cum-soaked leg. His entire crotch area is a soft rosy pink. Akechi reaches out to touch the head of his soft penis and Akira gives a startled jerky twitch, but doesn’t wake up.

“Akira,” Akechi whispers, kneeling beside him and leaning in. He places a hand on his wet knee and gives an encouraging shake. “Akira, can you hear me? Are you alright...?”

Akira’s eyes stay fixed staring off into space, pupils blown out. He can’t hear anything right now. A bit of drool slips from his smiling lips and hits his thigh.

Anxiety flashes through Akechi. “I-Is he okay?” He asks sharply. He swallows hard and puts his hand to Akira’s chest, clutching tightly. “Check his vitals. Quickly.”

“Yes, Master. I’ve had them under strict observation throughout the entire process. His sex levels are just extremely elevated, blotting out his logical and sensory mind. It’ll take a while for him to recover, but he’s happy, sir. Very happy.”

Akechi sighs in relief. He rubs his hand over Akira’s knee in a soothing circle and then looks down at surprising movement in his peripheral. Akira’s cock is twitching on his lap, perking up slightly as Akechi touches him. “I-Is he...?”

“He’s feeling good, sir. He likes your touch.”

He stares in flabbergasted awe, eyes falling to his hand and unable to look away. A giddy sense of pride bolts through him, he’s thrilled he gave something to Akira he never thought he could. This hand did that. Him. It is possible. “Good, Akira... Very good.”

The very end of the dragon dildo still pokes out from the bottom of the chair. The knot is gone, buried up inside, and Akechi swallows hard as he reaches down. It’s nearly searing hot, almost too much to touch, but he grips at it hard and, slowly, tries to pull it out. Immediately, he’s hit with resistance.

Akira gives a messy uneven gasp. “Guh!” His chains rattle and he writhes, agonized.

“Shh, shh. It’s alright,” he says, soothing him with a hand to his thigh. “It’s knotted you... But it should be lessened by now, it’s already come quite a bit...”

“Mmmm...nooo. Can’t. Leave it in...want you innn...”

With a loud pop! and a punched out shout from Akira, the knot pulls free. The shaft slides out easily, squelching softly along the way. Akechi tugs it out, skimming the tips of his fingers across Akira’s hot cunt before he places the dragon’s cock on his thighs.

“There we go,” he soothes, watching Akira fall back limply in his seat. “I told you you could do it. All good... You did so well.”

Akira slumbers away.

Akechi steps out of the way and an arm comes down from the ceiling, waiting. Akechi places the dragon dildo into its palm and it zooms through the viewing hall, retracing its steps to rethread the tubing and put it all away.

The chair resumes its journey over the tracks. It brings Akira back all the way through, even dragging him past his prepared cum cups.

Akechi’s bedroom waits up above. The spiral staircase opens up, steps falling away to reveal more tracks. The chair continues its confident travel with its fried victim, ascending.

It stops at Akechi’s bedside and lifts, dumping Akira at a sharp angle so that he falls face first into the mattress, his ass high in the air, his arms spilled open on either side.

He just lays there on his face, unconscious. He doesn’t put up a fight anymore, doesn’t complain and beg and pretend to be calm for Akechi. He just stays down on the bed, arms loose at his sides, his pert pink hole still opened up from the abuse and readied for this final completion step.

Akechi steps up quietly behind him.

This was always part of the plan — the final part. The rooms in the dungeon below were simply preparation. Make Akira susceptible, then he’ll be all Akechi’s. This would be the beginning of the real step, where Akechi gets to do whatever he pleases with Akira’s body. It was all so easy though. Too easy. He thought Akira would put up so much more resistance. That, being here, behind Akira, would feel like a victory.

It does, but it was such an easy one...

Akira is so vulnerable and defeated right now, anyone could step in and take him and he wouldn’t even protest. Anyone. Even a random stranger. Does that even mean anything?

As Akechi stares down silently into Akira’s ruined little hole, he finds it feels too real. Which is funny, seeing as this is all a dream... This is all probably just a dream...

His hands begin to shake. Dreams never last this long. Not like this. Not even half this much. It’s just odd, that’s all. And...when he reaches out and touches his fingertips to Akira’s soft private skin, he feels it, every sharp detail of it. And it doesn’t feel muddied up like a dream.

And if it isn’t a dream...

If it isn’t...

Oh, god. No, that just can’t be.

Akira’s his best friend... Akira’s the last of his family... The only person he has left... He loves him, he wants the best for him. He’d do anything for him and he swore he’d never be selfish, never put himself first. Akira needs the help, not him, never him.

No. Can’t be. Akechi wouldn’t. He didn’t.

But...

“Master,” Arsène says gently. “Is everything alright...?”

Akechi looks over, eyes wide and naive. “Huh? What?”

“...It’s only Master Akira, sir. He is very comfortable with you, if that’s what you’re concerned about.”

Akechi stares down at Akira’s parted cheeks, at his ruined gaping hole, waiting to be penetrated once more. He does not look very comfortable at all, actually. He’s bent like a pretzel so that Akechi may find pleasure inside of him, not the other way around. Akira just wanted to go home, he said so several times in the dungeon. Screamed it, in fact.

Arsène says, “Is there anything I can do to relieve the burden from you?”

“Oh.” He still can’t take his eyes off of Akira’s presented hole. It’s so...pink. So small. How could that huge fucking knot have even made it through? It’s bigger than his fist, which Akechi clenches and stares down at in dazed wonder.

“Master.”

“Huh? Oh. Um...I was thinking. He’s very vulnerable right now. His mind has been cracked open for easy molding, I’ve made it so.”

“That’s true.”

“...We need...” He swallows hard and looks around the place a bit desperately. He doesn’t know why, but there are tears in his eyes. He takes a quick short step back and wipes them roughly away. So stupid. Who regrets over a dream? He runs his hands through his hair as he tries to calm his breathing. “It’s always been the plan: we need someone to remind him what he needs to love from now on. But I don’t think — I don’t know...” He stares at Akira’s pose, so raw, so open. He begins to tremble harder.

He’s starting not to feel so well. He wants Akira. Akira’s voice over the phone, telling Akechi it’s alright, he’s okay, it’s just a bad dream. He’s still a good person, he’s still redeemable. Of course he is.

But Akechi can’t call Akira for reassurances. Akira’s right here. And Akechi wrecked him.

“Master,” his butler says softly, gently guiding him by shoulders away from the sight. “If it bothers you this much, perhaps it’s best we return him home...”

Turned away, Akechi sniffs sharply and stares hard into the floor through blurry vision. His head aches. His cock aches. His stomach feels both eager and petrified. He wants to vomit, but he looks over his shoulder instead, over at Akira. The image is too surreal to be real. Too beautiful to be Akechi’s.

Akechi gives his head a quick shake. “You do it,” he whispers, not taking his wide eyes off Akira’s body. “Fuck him. Show him what to like. Take him and, when he begins to react, come inside. Make sure it’s heated. I want him to feel your climax when it bursts inside of him. I want him to know you were there. Make it nice.”

“Are...you sure?” He asks, raising his eyebrow just so as he watches Akechi’s face.

“I wouldn’t say it if I wasn’t. You must. Or all this work will be for nothing. Years of it, really. All the steps must be completed. Don’t be too hard though. Akira’s... Just — be gentle with him.”

“Akira’s precious to me too. I just wonder though, if you’d both be happier if you did it. I’m only a butler.”

Akechi shakes his head uncertainly as he flicks his gaze back at Akira. Akira’s face is tilted to the side, cheek smooshed into Akechi’s silk sheets as he drools, eyes hollow and fixed in place like a dumb bimbo. It feels so odd. How many times has Akira been on this bed, smiling and laughing and joking. Just a few hours before, he was laid out over it casually, arms behind his head as he got comfortable on Akechi’s pillow. Sharp eyes snapping to Akechi’s as he asked about the dungeon.

And now... Now...

Dull emptied haze. Submission. Opportunity.

Akechi shudders, putting his palm to his face and breathing tightly. “You. You fuck him. I-I can’t. ...I can’t.”

“Alright. If you’re sure.”

“Yes. I’m sure. It’s a command. Take him. Take Akira. Penetrate him, as he was meant to be. Come inside his body.”

“Yes, Master.”

With casual elegance and grace, Akechi’s robot butler steps in behind Akira, undoing the buttons on his sleek dress slacks with deft professionalism. Out comes a perfectly sizable penis. He isn’t made of metal, he’s as soft to the touch as a real human, as pink and tender as one. Akechi made sure he had a very nice cock.

Arsène grabs Akira by the hips. Without preamble, without fanfare, the butler lifts Akira’s limp body up and sheathes him neatly onto his thick cock.

Akira grunts. He is painted into the mattress, hair sloshing against silk and legs opening wide as the butler holds him in the air and thrusts in and out.

Akechi watches on, stunned. He fiddles with the base of his neck, picking and rubbing the skin. He feels like he’s looking in on the image through his curtains: Akira’s sacred silhouette with his girlfriends. But only, this time, the roles are reversed, and Akira’s the one taking it. Akira, the one who thinks he doesn’t like cock inside of him. Akira, the top. He’s the bottom now.

The butler’s shaft is eaten up so hungrily by Akira’s soft body. It’s breathtaking. Akira is so beautiful like this, somehow even more heartbreakingly beautiful than through the curtains. Vulnerable and elegant and desperate and taking it. Taking it... Because of Akechi.

“More,” Akechi whispers, leaning in, shaking fingers pressed to his lips, to his neck. “Faster, Arsène.”

Arsène pumps in, hips snapping. Akira’s face bobs loosely into the mattress, bouncing off of it. It’s so raw.

“Faster.”

He’s going so fast it looks superhuman. The faster he goes, the less it looks like either of them are moving. And yet, there’s an odd vibration between them. An odd quick and frenzied tension. Akechi loves that. Akira’s arms are flailing strangely in the air, bouncing off the mattress helplessly.

His eyes grow wider, absorbing it all as if he can experience it in tandem. “Faster!” He whispers through his fingers. “Faster, Arsène!”

It’s just one pulse of cock into cunt.

Akira begins to wake up, choking and whimpering in uneven broken gasps.

“FASTER.”

“Ahh...ahh!” His feet kick, toes curling in. His hands reach desperately behind him, trying to feel what’s grabbed ahold of him. What’s holding him up. Cock.

Akira clings tightly to Arsène’s hands, fingers kneading in, as he’s jackhammered into roughly. “Mm?! Ahh —?!”

“Now,” Akechi breathes, hands clutching tightly to his chest. “He’s awake. Come inside. Make it hot. I want him to feel it. Propel it with the power thruster so it shoots into him deep. I want it...deep.”

“Wh-wha —” Akira breathes.

“Yes, Master —” He snaps his hips into Akira’s body and stays there as he begins to hose his artificial seed up and into Akira’s womb.

Akira screams loudly. His head snaps back and he curves into a wild arch, his bloodshot eyes staring overwhelmed into a godless sky. “AAAAGGGGHHHHHH...”

“Shall I stop, Master?” Arsène asks calmly. “It’s a constant stream inside of him. It’s quite brutal. His insides are beginning to fill.” A few seconds pass. “...It may soon begin to grow painful. I sense it oozing into his stomach.”

More cum than anything else.

“GORO —” Akira gurgles, in agony. His head thrashes to the front and back as he squirms and squirms, so helpless. “HELP ME.”

He’s being filled. He’s bloating, just like Akechi always envisioned. Akechi can see it, his lower abdomen beginning to bulge out and press into the mattress top. To feel so full like that, to be so looked after that your body changes for your partner, becomes something else... It has to be the ultimate pleasure.

Akechi collapses to his knees on the bed’s edge, coming into his hand with a silent cry. He hasn’t come so hard and sudden in his life. Not like this. It shoots further than it ever has, painting the side of Akira’s face.

Akira gasps as it splatters over him. It gets in his mouth, and he remembers then, how the pollen aphrodisiac had made him feel, the taste of it — it’s working. Akechi jolts forward with his climax and the tip of his cock shoves forcefully against Akira’s face and Akira can’t help but burst too. His body twitches as he cries out wildly, legs flailing, still being filled.

“GOROGOROGOROGORO.” His mouth gets on Akechi’s cockhead, pulling it over his lips and in and down.

Pulse after forceful pulse. Akechi can’t tell if it’s pleasure or terror. His usually lithe and flat lower pelvis bulges and squishes into the comforter.

“Stop,” Akechi chokes out, sinking onto the bed beside Akira. “Arsène, that’s enough. You can stop.”

Arsène sets Akira neatly onto his back over the sheets, lacing his hands over his stomach that is now full of robot sperm. Akira’s chest is jerking unevenly, his eyes wide as tears slide down his temples. He’s trembling. Akechi’s cum is still splattered across his face in some parts, smeared over others. It’s leaking all over his mouth. Arsène’s gushes out from between his legs, dripping to the floor. And Akira’s covers his entire abdomen. It shot up over his neck. Milk and seed all over him.

“He came inside me,” Akira murmurs in shock, fingertips on his oddly swollen stomach. “Arsène came inside me.”

“Yes...”

“Oh.” Akira whispers as he brings his hand up into the air over his face. It’s trembling. “Inside me. In my core. It’s so warm. Oddly warm. It’s spreading. I can feel it...swallowing up my limbs with its heat. I...it’s hard to...to move...”

“Yes...”

Akechi made the robot sperm himself too. It has heating properties, literally, and a nice movement-numbing anesthetic. A paralyzer. Akira will be able to feel it all with every move he cannot make. It should intoxicate him — it’s a bit of a cheat — it’ll fill his head with abnormal amounts of hormones that come from love and sex, making him more open to the idea of being touched in whatever way Akechi wants to touch him. It’s slow acting, releasing over time, so he’ll be forced into this susceptible changeable mindset all night long. And the best part is that he’ll be awake. An awake doll, unable to move, forced to feel, readied for penetration.

“Doesn’t...doesn’t feel...right,” Akira murmurs. He pulls his hand away and stares blankly at Akechi’s cum on his fingers. “My...it’s in my...my mouth... Your... You...” He shudders. “You came too.”

Akechi can see, as he leans over the side of the bed and hovers over Akira’s face, that it’s beginning to take effect. Akira stares back, but his eyes are growing unfocused. His breaths are evening out despite his fear. Deep and steady and easy. “G-Goro...”

“Can you hear me?” Akechi whispers.

“Uh...u-h....your...semen...i-in...my...my...”

“It’s okay. It’s alright. I have you.” Akechi takes Akira’s hand with one hand and the supplies that Arsène hands him with the other. Headphones and a VR headset.

Akira grabs onto his hand tightly with intention even though his eyes are stuck in one place above.

“Ah...yeah, it’s working quickly, isn’t it? You look so sweetly vulnerable like this, do you know that? It’s so strange, how long this dream is going on for... They’ve never lasted this long, we’ve never made it this far. And it just keeps going...”

He can touch Akira’s face here too. He brushes his hair from his eyes. He leans down and gives just a centimeter from his face, lifting his warm familiar scent off his skin. Akira’s shaky hand reaches for Akechi’s weakly, touching him with a questioning glance. “...I’m sure it’s already foggy for you, what happened in that secret room. Can you recall? Squeeze my hand if you can.”

Akira just breathes. His hand doesn’t twitch.

“Squeeze my hand if you don’t remember the room anymore.”

Shakily, Akira’s hand circles around Akechi’s finger. His eyes are so wide. He makes a soft desperate sound in the back of his throat.

“It’s alright,” Akechi whispers, drawing the headphones over Akira’s hair gently. He secures them in place, leaning in to whisper around them. “The butler’s cum is quite special. It’s my own invention. Right now, it’s invaded your muscles, made them quiet and put them into sweet sleep. Once his cum crosses your blood-brain barrier, which should already have begun, you’ll slide into a numbed out deeply suggestive state. You’ll still be awake. You can still hear, you can still see, still feel everything that’s done to you. But you won’t be able to move for the next few hours. I’ve dollified you, Akira. You’re my little doll. You’ll be forced to watch this video and listen to this audio the entire time, all night long. And, when you wake up, you won’t remember a thing. But it’ll have changed you, just slightly, so slightly you won’t even have noticed. So that you’ll want me. Constantly. Still with me?”

One of Akira’s fingers twitch. He doesn’t squeeze anymore.

“Ah. It’s just about done.” He draws Akira’s eyelids up and looks into the wide pooled black of his pupil, staring blankly straight ahead. His face and body are slack. It’s beautiful. All this power over him.

Akira is his right now. Fully, completely his. It’s the most wonderful feeling in the world. That aching pit of loneliness is satiated. The agony and sorrow is replaced with bliss. Akechi leans down, hesitates for a moment as he breathes him in. Watching Akira carefully — the thick eyelashes, the rosy cheeks, the curly raven hair — he presses a chaste kiss to his cheek, pulling the warmth of Akira’s skin into him, wanting to be as close as he can be.

Too soon, Akechi sits up. He reaches for the medical tape and secures Akira’s eyelids like that so they’re forced to stay open. Akechi secures the VR set in place so Akira can only see the screen. “I’ll let you watch the show, then. It all worked so well. I just can’t believe it. This is the best dream I think I’ve ever had. Can you respond to me still?”

He waits, but Akira’s hand doesn’t move at all. Akechi gives a little squeeze just to see...Akira remains limp. No twitch, no jerk, no anything. Just Akira laying sprawled on the bed, motionless, helpless. Poor thing.

“Oh well. I’ll be here, watching over you.”

Akechi drags Akira up and his neck rolls to the side, so he has to reposition him with his other hand. It’s harder to manage a limp person than Akechi assumed, but he manages to lay Akira over the top of the sheets, naked body out in the cold, so he can be viewed. Akechi draws Akira’s hands up to his chest and places them gently over each of his breasts, thumbs on his nipples. He slips his hands between the inside of both legs and pulls them apart, positioning them into a wide V.

He reorientates the headset and headphones so they’re snug and tight. Akira has no choice but to watch and listen as COCK and FORGET play over and over and over and over, images flickering through a never ending spinning swirl of trance and mind fuckery. Akechi can hear his own voice now.

Cock, cock, cock... You love my cock...

Akechi brushes his hand gently over Akira’s cheek for a long while, not thinking of much, just allowing this time and space to settle over them. He hadn’t even noticed that Arsène left, giving them privacy. He always knows just what Akechi needs.

Exhaustion hits, sudden and powerful. Everything they did tonight was so emotionally taxing — in a good way, of course — but he finds himself without any energy.

Tonight, he doesn’t have to sink into a bed alone. He crawls into the sheets beside his best friend, besides his special person. And he watches him. Watches his face. Watches his chest’s even steady pull of breath. Watches as Akira’s cock begins to lift.

Akechi’s lips part and his eyes hood as he watches it twitch to life without being touched. The tip beads with moisture. It’s working. Of course it is, Akechi made it after all, but...it’s actually working. Rising proudly into the sky above his Akechi-made sperm-swollen belly.

Akechi feels golden and powerful and right for once in his life. Like everything he’s done until now has felt so pointless because it was all leading up to this.

This is what he fought for. A chance with Akira. A proper fair chance.

Finally...

With this, he’s going to make Akira fall in love with him. He’s certain of it. Akechi snuggles into his pillow, watching Akira’s paralyzed body through bright excited eyes. He breathes him in heavily, intoxicated out of his mind. Who is using pheromones on who?

Without being touched, Akira begins to come, body jerking as it expels his seed. He doesn’t move otherwise.

Akechi can’t help but smile. He reaches out and draws his fingers over Akira’s wet oozing cock, collecting his cum in the palm of his hand as he strokes him firmly with it. “Akira... Oh, Akira... I’ll make a bottom of you yet...”

Akira comes for him again.

Forget. Forget, forget, forget...

Akechi wakes up, breathing in sharply. His eyes snap open and he stares up at the ceiling. Mute horror pricks at the tips of his fingers, spreading slowly but surely through his body.

No. Nope.

What. The fuck. Was that dream?

Jesus, it was fucked up. How could he have done those things? He feels dirty and irredeemable just for having thought it. Jesus... What’s wrong with him? He was so disturbingly turned on by it all, too...he still feels warm and oddly giddy. He groans as he looks down at the sullied sheets wrapped around his waist. He’s even wet the damn bedding like a fucking pre-teen. So sticky and revolting it’s like he fucking pissed himself. Urgh. He’s a disgusting animal, isn’t he?

God. He can’t wait for next month when he has his next therapy session. His therapist is going to fucking love this one, it’s how the man rakes in the cash, after all.

Closing his eyes wearily and running a hand over his face and hair, he peels himself out of his bed, groaning. His back is sore. His cock feels...raw. What a wild dream. He won’t be able to look at Akira in the eyes for the rest of the week. He’s absolutely mortified. Shaking his hair out, he kicks his sheets off of himself — and stops.

He can hear the low tone of his voice, muffled and faraway. It’s subtle and soft, as if played over nearby headphones.

The bed is soaked. It goes beyond Akechi. It’s like someone got a bucket of water and doused the entire mattress. Sticky tacky wetness oozes up out of the comforter as Akechi presses his hand to it. He pulls it away and stares at the coating on his fingers.

Ice crawls up Akechi’s arms and legs. It floods out from the center of his heart.

He looks over and sees...on his back, hands crossed over his absurdly bloated belly, his legs spread wide and naked... It’s Akira, Akechi’s childhood friend, Akira, bathed in a massacre of their cum.

Forget. Forget. FORGET.

Akechi rakes his fingers into his face and screams.

His therapist watches him evenly as Akechi bites into his nail. He tastes blood — fucking jackpot — and begins tearing into the spot with savage fury, not even caring how it looks. His therapist already knows he’s insane. “Fucking...fuck,” he hisses, trying a new angle.

“So,” Dr. Maruki says, tilting his head as he watches him carefully, but not too carefully. “How was your weekend?”

He gives a small sharp laugh, bordering hysteria. He raises his shoulders tightly and lets them drop. Goes back to biting.

“Sounds like it might’ve been pretty intense...you don’t usually call me in for emergency sessions. Want to talk about it?”

He makes a wild protest deep in his throat. “Arsène suggested this.”

“That’s alright, how about we try some breathing techniques? To just check in and see where we are today.”

He shakes his head and takes a deep breath to see if he even can, but it’s difficult, as it always is. He’s on such a short leash with himself. “You’re trying to fucking torture me, aren’t you? Sadistic fuck.”

Maruki smiles gently. “Breathing techniques are not actually a form of torture, contrary to how you may feel about them. But if you don’t want to do them, there’s no pressure.” He waits a few more moments before saying. “Well, how about resuming our talk from last session? We were talking about guilt. A pretty prevalent emotion for you over the years. How was it this weekend?”

Blood floods his mouth as he hits a good spot. He digs in deeper. “I hate when you read my mind. It really agitates me. Am I that predictable? Or can you just see everything inside me?”

He keeps the smile on, patient as Akira. He’s another one of those saint types. It makes Akechi crazy as much as it’s calming.

Akechi tosses his hands in the air. “Okay. Fine. I called you in here because...well, here it is: I did something terrible.”

“Alright. It’s okay. Tell me about it.”

“It’s Akira.”

He nods slowly.

Akechi hesitates, looks over at him quickly, making sure he’s not seeing everything, but just enough. “Not like that. He’s fine. He’s at home, probably sleeping with his fucking girlfriend. But I — I — Last night, I had a dream.” He opens his mouth to say more. Stops. Crumbles. Sinks his head into his hands and stays there for a moment.

“A dream?”

“Yes,” he whispers into his fingers as he draws his hands over his face. He keeps his knees curled to his chest on his computer chair. “It was really bad. Really horrible. How could I even think it...? In the dream, I forced him to have sex with me. I forced him. Well. We didn’t actually have sex. Not actually. But I tied him up. And I made him think it was the only way. And he came. Because of that. I made him come. Several times! I said it was for pleasure, but he clearly didn’t want to. So it wasn’t for him at all, was it? It was for me! Because he’s straight. And I’m...I don’t know what I am. Doesn’t matter. You know how much I want him. And he doesn’t want me. And I made him want me. And here’s the worst part: when I woke up, I looked over...and he was in bed with me. He’d spent the night! While I had that dream! Where I made him come. And he slept beside me, he was hard! Fucking morning wood. I saw it! So it felt like — it just felt like it was real!! I haven’t been able to breathe since.”

“What did you say when he woke up? Did you tell him about what you’d dreamt?”

The wheels of his seat shunt back. “Are you insane?! Of course I didn’t tell him! I betrayed him! I want to fuck him! Don’t you see? Don’t you get it? I’ve had thirty years to get over him. Thirty years! And you and I...you just said the other month that I’ve made progress. Right? You said! And I believed you. But look at me —” He gestures to his chest madly. “I want him more than ever! I’m not cured at all! I still want him! No matter the cost! I’m not supposed to still want him! None of this is working! You said — you told me, if I put the effort in, if I truly wanted it, then I’d be able to overcome this. But, look at me! I came all over myself in a fucking wet dream like I’m fourteen all over again! I’m out of control. And I want it, I do, but I apparently want this more! FUCK.”

“That’s a perfectly normal thing to happen, Goro. Wanting is not the same as doing. Not by a long shot. We are in control of our actions, no matter how untrue that might seem right now. Progress doesn’t have to mean completely tearing out a vital part of your emotions. You two are very close. This attraction is normal.”

“Normal!” He screeches, tossing his hands into the air. “Normal, you say! In the dream, when I tied Akira up, I put this...this hat on him. It whispered to him all my needs and my desires and my wants and it...warped him. Made him mine. And I know this makes no sense. But the longer I keep it on him, the more he wears this hat, the closer he gets to this concept called the completion mark. Once he hits it, he’s mine and he’ll want me and he’ll start getting this undying hunger for me that will need to be satiated or he’ll go insane. Literally insane. Once he hits this completion mark, he’ll never be able to go back. It’s an all or nothing sort of thing. Isn’t that fucking evil? Is that normal to you?!”

The doctor taps the bottom of his pencil to his lip before jotting down a quick note. “So it sounds like it’s a steady increase. What happens if Akira never hits the completion mark?”

“If it’s not completed, it’ll fade away with time. From ninety-nine back down to zero. Fine, right? But it cannot go back once it hits one-hundred. At one-hundred, he’s forever mine. And, last night...it was going up.”

Dr. Maruki hums thoughtfully. “Where did you get this hat from? Did you invent it?”

“Of course I did. I made up the whole fucked up thing.”

“Well, it’s a very creative and intriguing dream, I’ll give you that. But dreams still aren’t reality. You’re afraid to hurt Akira, afraid to get too close to him or you worry you’ll take every last piece of him. But you’re not doing that.”

“I want him,” he whispers, voice hushed, like it’s a bad thing.

“You love him. He’s a safe space for you in a world you view as incredibly hostile. You think he’s beautiful. You admire him and respect him for who he is. It’s a good thing, Goro, for both of you. Of course you’re still fond of him, in your position, anyone would be. But Goro, a dream is just a dream. It doesn’t have to mean anything. It doesn’t even necessarily mean you still want to have sex with him.”

He groans into his hands. “...But I do. I do want to. He’s so — he’s so...”

“Ah,” he says softly.

“It’s strong. It’s really strong today. I feel so raw. The dream was bad enough, but then waking up beside him? Seeing his...seeing him tenting the sheets with his...erection...oh my god... Why does he do that? Why is he always in my space? I can’t think with him around, I can’t separate good from bad or any of that, it’s just Akira. I’m going insane.”

“It’s difficult for you to create boundaries with him.”

He grunts and groans and gurgles, drooping. “I want every bit of him I can get...how could I cut him off?” He mumbles pathetically. “Even what he gives me never feels like enough. I’m already starving for him.”

“Boundaries doesn’t mean not seeing him. It doesn’t even mean saying you have to reduce your time with him. But this has always been something that happens between you two. You two had a very hard childhood and you learned to cope by leaning on each other. That became the basis of your mindsets: that you both need each other to survive. As difficult as it is, I think it’d help you if you instated some hard lines between the two of you. I don’t think he’d fight you on it, he sounds easy going and open to your thoughts and ideas, if only you tell him. The bed thing, for instance, you can start there. Maybe, next time he crawls into bed with you, bring out a cot for him. Or, better yet, buy him his own bed.”

“Are you listening to yourself?” He glares at Maruki through his fingers. “Buy him a bed in my own house. And you’re talking about boundaries?”

He smiles crookedly. “You always say you have no idea how to fill all the rooms in that mansion of yours and how it unnerves you. Make a guest room and allow Akira to use it if he needs to. It’s better than him sleeping next to you in your own bed, isn’t it? Especially when he wakes up with a certain...affliction you can’t seem to ignore for the rest of the day.”

He groans loudly through his fingers. “He’s beautiful. ...And so big. I’m humiliated.” He draws his hands away and stares daggers into the computer desk. “I want him so badly. It isn’t healthy. It scares me and I don’t know what to do. Sometimes, it feels like I should lock myself away so I can’t harm him. What if I lose my mind and I... That dream. What if I really am that person...? Watching until Akira hits his completion mark and then...then what? I don’t know. It terrifies me.”

“It’s our actions, Goro, that have consequences, not our dreams. Not our desires. It’s what we act on. And nothing more.” Maruki watches Akechi’s face for a long while. He says, gently, “It was only a dream, wasn’t it?”

Akechi jolts out of his misery, eyes wide. “Of course it was only a dream. How could you —?! I wouldn’t — I’d never — !!”

“Alright,” he holds his hands up easily. “Just thought I’d ask. Sometimes, when what you want falls into your lap, you don’t even know what you’re doing until after it’s done. I see it a lot. And then, you know what? All we do is just work on that.”

“I wouldn’t,” Akechi says firmly. “I would never hurt him. I love him. I wouldn’t do that.”

“I didn’t say hurt,” he says gently.

“I’m not even going to dream it again. I won’t. It’s never happening again and that’s final.”

“We don’t necessarily have control of our dreams... If it does happen again, it doesn’t mean you want it. Remember that. Did you tell Akira how much it stressed you out? Waking up beside him? He should know.”

“No...” He mumbles. “I screamed at him to get the fuck out the second he woke up and shoved him out the door. But he has to know.”

“He can read your mind?”

“Sometimes it feels like it.” He mumbles grumpily and then shakes his head. “He can’t know how much he affects me. He’s sharp as a fucking dagger. The only reason he hasn’t thought of it yet is because, subconsciously, he doesn’t want to. But if I say something like that, that waking up beside him stresses me out, he’ll think of reasons why. And why else...? He’ll find me out. And I can’t — Not again — The parking lot. The fucking parking lot...”

“I know,” Maruki says softly. “It’s okay.”

He winces as he bites deep onto his nail. He looks down at his handiwork and sees white through the red. “...Fuck. ...I think we need to up my meds again. I don’t think they’re working anymore. I feel...imbalanced. I feel like I’m passing that neutral threshold again, I just want to feel normal. I don’t want to be like this. I feel insane.”

Maruki nods, like he expected it. “Alright, we can do that. I’ll send the prescription in after we end the call. Want to know what I think?”

“No,” he mutters.

Maruki chuckles. “Goro.”

“Fine,” he sighs, tossing his hands up. “Give it to me straight. What’s your diagnosis?”

“Well, I don’t think there’s a world where you could ever forget how you love Akira. ‘Fixing this’ was never about forgetting that part of yourself; would you really want to if you could? We’ll work on this gently, of course we will, but rather than forget, you’re going to have to face this desire for Akira and deal with it one way or another. Or he’s going to consume you.”

He sighs.

“Have you noticed? Every time you’ve called for an emergency session, it’s always about Akira. He causes you the most happiness...but also the most pain.”

“It isn’t his fault. He cares about me still. He’s the one who found you for me, you know,” he mutters lowly, drawing a hand through his hair. “That’s why I’m here. If it weren’t for him, I doubt I’d still even be here, on this planet. But I don’t know what to do. He just...tears me up inside... I want the best for both of us but I don’t know how to get there without completely ruining our comfort and our lives for the both of us.”

“It’s possible, I promise. Boundaries, Goro. Before he drowns you with that love of his. When, not if, that happens, I don’t see you swimming away. I don’t think drowning yourself is something any of us want. And no, not even you, Goro. Not even you.”

Akechi closes his eyes heavily and stays still. Sometimes it feels like it. Most times, honestly.

“I’ll have your medicine ready by tonight. Have Arsène pick it up. Follow the instructions on the bottle. Don’t forget a dose. We can’t let it get bad again. It was a very difficult recovery for you.”

“Yeah. Trust me. I fucking remember.”

An image flits through his mind: Akira sobbing with his head bowed at his bedside, holding his pale weak hand tightly and asking him why, why, why.

The doorbell rings throughout the house, a bell tolling back and forth from the cathedral up top. It’s a real bell and the acoustics in here are fantastic; it sounds like a song from the heavens, peaceful and pure. He closes his eyes and takes a deep calming breath.

Arsène passes by with his usual ease. “I’ll get it, Master.”

“Yes,” Akechi murmurs, not even bothering to look up as he sits back in his seat and glares into his computer screen. He’s nearly done with work and then he can just lay himself out on the cold granite floor and stare at the ceiling, blankly, with self-loathing.

Nothing helps. Maruki just made him more depressed. The horror hasn’t yet receded since this morning. Since...

Akira’s cum still stains his sheets, and he doesn’t know why he told Arsène not to wash them. Telling him that made him feel even more sick with himself. He’s still fighting himself to not go in there and lick it off. What is wrong with him?! Fuck this. Fuck him. He can’t stop thinking about him.

Akira on those machines... He wonders if his cum is still on the floor of The Velvet Room. Hopefully Arsène read his mind and left it.

But to do what?! Oh, god, his mind is so fucked... Is he going to lick that off the floor too?

Probably, honestly. He’s fucking deranged.

Arsène leans against the doorframe of Akechi’s office and gives a soft knock with his knuckles. “Master.”

He jolts up. “Huh? What is it?”

“Yoshizawa is here.”

Akechi grits his teeth, tense and prickly. “Perfect. Just what I need today: the exact last person on earth I want to see. Please kindly tell her to fuck off and eat shit. Or not so kindly, actually, I have no patience for —”

“I’m afraid I’m already here,” she says cheerfully, stepping around the wall and giving a small wave. “Hello, Akechi. Good afternoon!”

He leans his forehead into his palm for a moment before drawing himself back up and trying to manage a neutral expression. “Good evening, Yoshizawa. My apologies. Please forget what I said. I’m swamped and irritated about it. It has no reflection on you.”

“Oh, gosh! Yes. Don’t worry about it, I totally get it. You just wouldn’t be Akechi without work! That’s what Akira always says, anyway. Your coworkers must really appreciate having you around!”

“Yes. I’m sure that’s exactly how they feel.” He whirls back around to his computer. “Is there something you need from me? Otherwise, I’m sure Arsène can —”

“Actually, Akira sent me over.”

Urk. He turns, watching her warily.

She smiles brightly and gives a small respectful bow of her head. “Akira told me about last night. How he fell and knocked himself out. We’re so grateful for you for taking care of him and letting him sleep in your own bed and everything! I always get a little nervous leaving without him for reasons just like this one, but it’s such a relief knowing you’re there if Akira needs help. We really, really appreciate it.” She bows deeper.

Akechi gazes down at her through dark eyes. A flicker of raw hatred twists inside of him. She says it all like Akira’s hers. Like they’re already one. Can’t she feel it? How Akira’s different this morning? Can’t she smell it on him? If she knows him so well. Akechi came on his face. Prodded it in. Marked him. Breached his cockhead through his rose petal lips. Didn’t even wash him before he sent him on his way. Akira’s his now. He’s all fucking his.

“So that’s why he and I spent all afternoon making a home cooked dinner for you as thanks! He’s still at it right now, so he sent me to come collect you. Please come?”

She stands up properly but before they make eye contact, Akechi turns back toward his screen, scowling. Trapped.

Akira. That piece of shit. What about boundaries? He can’t set them when Akira’s being all sneaky like this. He’s always trying to get him and Yoshizawa to get along together, sending her, making her beg, knowing Akechi will feel guilt if he tells her to go fuck off. Guilt. Maruki says Akechi is motivated by guilt, that it’s getting in the way of a healthy lifestyle, something he sure doesn’t fucking have. He hates these games.

Akechi shakes his head, picking at his lip. “No. Sorry, but no. I’m just so busy. You two will have to eat on your own.”

“Um. Um! Akira worked really hard,” she says, voice starting to get all high and pitchy like a little kicked puppy. “He made all your favorites! He has a cookbook. It was passed down to him and everything, it’s so special to him! He has a whole entire section marked with your name! We pulled out a few of them. Starters, the main course, desserts! The works!”

He’s quiet. Resisting the urge to stab something. It’s Akechi’s mother’s cookbook that Akira took with him, Akechi’s name written by her own hand. Goro. He’s her son. Hers. Akechi let Akira have the book because Akira loved it so and Akechi loves Akira so. Besides, Akechi wasn’t much of a cook anyway, so the book wouldn’t have mattered as much to him, but still. Passed down? It was his. Fucking Yoshizawa. She’s so fucking stupid.

Honestly, though, he should be grateful Akira hasn’t thrown the Goro section out by now and replaced it with SUMI’S SECTION OF LOVE AND STUFF.

“He’d be really disappointed if you didn’t come,” she says meekly, twisting her fingers together in discomfort. “He’s working really hard for you...”

He’d love nothing more than to shrug and tell her to go fuck herself, but...

But... Well. Akira.

Akira is such a problem. Akira is such a thorn in his side. Akira knows Akechi doesn’t like to eat full meals so this is just another ploy to force him to eat. He didn’t even ask, he just assumed. He’s trying to guilt him! It’s a tactic. How dare he care for him, right? He knew Akechi would come because Akechi can never fucking leave him hanging, so he does it this way, manipulating the shit out of him. It’s so annoying.

He knows exactly what he’s doing. ...Why can’t Akechi just leave Akira hanging...?

Boundaries, boundaries, boundaries. A baby step. A simple step. Just tell Akira no. Once. It’ll be a victory!

Akira’s moonlit eyes flash through his mind.

“Fine,” he mutters grudgingly. The tiny Dr. Maruki angel on his shoulder screams and pops out of existence. “I need to finish this up but, when I do, I’ll be over. Tell Akira he fucking wins again. Little shit.”

“Oh, thank you! You’re the best!” She says brightly, racing over and throwing herself over Akechi’s shoulders. She pulls him to her closely. Her disgusting soft bouncy boobs pressing into his shoulder. God, he’s glad she’s mostly flat. “He’ll be so pleased! See you in a bit!”

She’s so loud. Always yelling. Always bouncing on her heels and exuding positivity and light. How dare she. She’s the exact opposite of Akechi and he knows it. It hurt the first time he saw Akira with her. What did it mean? Akira wanted his partner in life to be everything Akechi wasn’t? Everything...?

“If it makes you unhappy,” Arsène says softly from the doorway. Yoshizawa has long gone and Akechi’s just been staring off into space. “I’d expect Master Akira would like to know. He cares about how you feel. He’d be upset you’ve kept him in the dark for so long...”

And what then? Douse his light? Akechi tsks and looks over sharply. “Is this commentary about last night?”

“It went on through the morning, as well.”

“Yes. How exact of you. What do you know? You literally fucked Akira into submission yesterday. Filled him up with your paralytic robot cum. I thought it was a dream, you don’t have dreams! So you don’t even have a fucking excuse. Akira was probably terrified as you did it — terrified! — and you dare lecture me?” Akechi wheezes hysterically, glaring hatefully at Arsène.

Arsène is calm. He puts a hand to his chest and closes his eyes down delicately. “You told me to.”

“Yes. Again — because I didn’t think it was really happening.”

“A part of you must’ve wanted it. You were happy last night, afterward. Happier than I’ve seen you in a long, long time. Both of you haven’t slept that deeply since you lived together. That was so long ago...”

“Fuck you! And did you enjoy it?”

Arsène thinks about it for a moment. “Yes. The filling part. You made it so it feels good for me as well. I wanted to fill him even more.”

“Wonderful. Then we’re all happy, aren’t we?!” He whirls back into his work and shoves his face into his hands. “You’re dismissed.”

With a soft sigh, Arsène turns and leaves. “What a tiring master... What do I do with you?”

Akechi makes them wait. It’s petty and rude but fuck it, he fucking hates going over there now. He needs this long to mentally prepare himself, not that there’s enough time in the world to properly do that.

He still remembers what the place looked like when it was only Akira’s, more home than here. He’s not sure where home is anymore. Yoshizawa swept it beneath a paisley colored rug and, when Akechi lifted the rug’s edge for the scraps, it was all gone.

He opens the front door without knocking and immediately sees her sun hat hanging on the coat hanger. It’s bright, decorated with flowers. He can smell the soft delicate floral scent of her running through their air. Lavender. Familiar and...he loathes it. It used to smell only of Akira, of rich coffee, of his heady delectable sweetness. Now the smells have intertwined. Too sickly sweet.

Akira’s beloved old hairball of a cat, Mona, walks around the corner. The little gold bell he used to wear around his neck has been replaced with a red heart bell. Tacky shit.

“Meow?” he says, staring with wide knowing eyes.

“Fuck off,” Akechi mutters, tossing his coat over the couch’s armrest.

The french doors leading to their backyard have been tossed open, letting the fresh evening breeze drift in and cleanse the air. They’ve set up out in the garden. Akechi follows the fairy lights out, looking out to see Akira and Yoshizawa’s backs. They’re both seated at their patio table, faces illuminated by the warmth of candlelight as they huddle in close together.

Yoshizawa murmurs in her squeaky little voice, “He said he’d be over when he was done, but I dunno, he looked pretty in it. I don’t think we need to go pester him again.”

Akira groans softly, leaning forward and letting his forehead press into Yoshizawa’s hand. “We’ve been waiting for ages... I’m hungry...”

“Be patient. He’ll be here. He always is for you.”

“Please,” Akira begs softly, pressing a kiss to her hand as he lifts his face and turns his big silver eyes up at her. “Please, please, please go get him for me.”

“He hates me.”

“He doesn’t hate you.”

“He does. He’s always looking at me like I’m a piece of old gum on his shoe...and not even a good flavor of gum...something like...green apple...ugh.”

“Oh god, not the green apple.”

“It’s true! Sour grapes!”

Akira chuckles warmly. “That’s just his default expression, he doesn’t mean it.”

He does. He does that on purpose.

She sighs, leaning her face over the back of Akira’s head. “I went over there and he didn’t know I was there and he said I was the literal last person he wanted to see.”

“Bah. He says that kind of shit to me all the time. He’s just a grouch, you just gotta sass him back. He likes that sort of thing. He doesn’t actually ever mean anything he says.”

“Not for you, maybe,” she sighs. “It’s fine. I’ve given up trying to get him to like me. I just don’t want to go over there, I think you should do it. It’s so uncomfortable. What with Akechi hating me and then that weird robot butler of his. It’s too human. It freaks me out, I’d never know it was a robot if you never told me.”

“Isn’t he cool? Goro made him.”

“That’s why it creeps me out; the fact that he made it himself. The whole thing. The face. The hair. The...everything. I mean. You get it, right? All of his choices. It’s so...strange.”

“Well, I helped make him.”

She gives him a patient look. “Do you mean you sat on the couch and played your DS while he designed it?”

Akira snorts. “Hey. Stop knowing me so well.”

“He made it. I just can’t get over how much it looks just like y —”

Akechi pretends to accidentally hit the wooden bench along the stone walkway. “Ow. Shit.”

Akira and Yoshizawa both look up.

“Hey, buddy,” Akira grins, looking as brilliant and gorgeous as ever in the warmth of the candlelight. “Forget how to walk? Do rich people not have to do that anymore?”

“Shut up. You’ve got all this shit all over your backyard. Of course I’m going to trip.”

“It’s called poor people furniture. It doesn’t get sucked back into the ground when you’re done with it. Tragedy for rich folk like you.”

“My furniture does not get sucked back into the ground ever,” he sighs. Except for some of the machines in his sex dungeon, but he doesn’t feel he needs to mention that.

Akira pats the table across from them. “Got you a plate. We made all your favorites as a thank you for saving me from an untimely death last night.”

“Yes, thank you, that’s the only reason I came.”

Akira snorts, eyes glinting with mischief. “Asshole. Which stairway did I trip down again? So I can be sure to light it on fire next time.”

“The one coming out of the library in the west wing. Try to keep your revenge fire contained to that area, will you? I quite like my house.” He takes a seat, looking over the dishes Akira’s made for them tonight. Rich and decadent and better than anything money could buy. Akira always goes above and beyond. Akechi supposes a chef will do that for you.

“Oh, that damn spiral one. Little bastard. Of course it’d be that one.”

“Yes. You always trip on the corner. Never looking where you’re going. There are consequences to that sort of thing and it just so happens you reaped them last night. Tragic.”

“Yeah, yeah. Thanks for not letting me die. I’m fucking starving. Let’s eat!”

They eat. Akechi may dislike Yoshizawa like most cats dislike water, but Akira has such a gift with people that he can weave the discomfort and awkwardness between them and make brilliant and comforting conversation that excludes no one. Usually.

All Akechi has to do is ask about Akira’s job and he’s shooting off about a gig he has next weekend at the cafe. He’s always wanted to sing. He’s so good at it too, that even Akechi’s active mind settles at the sound of his voice. Akechi supposes there are still some specks of comfort left, but any that are still living exist only in Akira.

He isn’t paying attention, lured into a false sense of security, and casually reaches for the last dinner roll as Akira chats him up. The only problem is that he does so at the same exact moment as Yoshizawa. Their hands hit. Puke warmth zaps his skin and he stops mid-sentence, turning sharply to her.

She blinks. The bread is fully in her palm. She got there first.

“Oh!” Without even thinking about it, she holds it out for him. “So sorry! Here you go. You have it.”

Her grimy little paws are all over the thing. He says delicately, “Thank you, but that’s alright. It’s all yours.”

“Ummm.” She looks down at it for a long moment and then splits it right down the middle. The soft fresh bread inside comes apart tenderly between her fingers. “How about we share it then?”

Akechi wishes he never reached for the bread at all.

Akira snorts, watching them with a small casual smile that he hides behind his fingers. “You know he won’t.”

Akechi tosses a scowl at him and shrugs. “Splitting is messy and dirty.”

“Is it?” She asks in confusion, looking to Akira.

Akira says, “He’s an all or nothing kind of person. Always has been.”

“Oh. Well. Easy fix!” She smashes the two halves into one mangled whole and holds out the ball of regurgitated dough. “Here you go! You should have the whole thing anyway. I don’t mind! Really.”

She’s serious. Actually serious.

Akechi manages to hold his sour face back in as he glares down at the Frankenstein bread. In what fucking world...? He’d rather die, honestly.

“Truly, I’m alright,” Akechi says stiffly as he gives an uncomfortable shift in his seat. “I shouldn’t be eating so much bread before bed anyways. It only invites nightmares.”

Akira’s laughter doubles as he watches the both of them with that casual amusement of his. With a lazy flick of his hand, he grabs his own dinner roll off his plate and tosses it at Akechi’s head. “Here. You’re ridiculous. Only invites nightmares... Come on.”

Akechi squawks and grabs it mid-air.

“Just take it. I know the bread’s your favorite,” Akira says when Akechi opens his mouth to protest.

He closes his mouth. It’s true. It is his favorite when Akira makes it. He’s the only one who can make it taste just like his mother used to make it.

Akechi looks down at the small dinner roll in the palm of his hands. Akira’s literally eaten half of it. How this is any better than Yoshizawa’s mangled piece is anyone’s guess. But he lifts it to his mouth and takes a bite.

Warm. Heavenly. Yoshizawa smiles as she watches him, munching happily into her regurgitated mound. She grins up at Akira, pleased, and gives him the other half of her doughy mangled own.

“Thank you, Sumi. You’re the kindest,” Akira hums warmly into her hair before picking a piece off and popping it into his mouth. They make it all seem so easy.

Not quite a win, but Akechi bites into Akira’s bite mark and he feels oddly calm anyway.

There are no more incidents. By the time the sun’s setting and the food is mostly gone, Akechi is almost comfortable here. The candlelight and little golden orbs of fireflies sway lazily past and Akechi leans back against the seat to watch them. He runs his fingers through his hair as Akira laughs in the background. He’s content, though maybe it’s the wine. Even knowing he’s just the third wheel here, superfluous, the pitiful extra, it’s nice to know Akira’s happy. In this moment, Akechi feels like he can be happy too. For Akira, if nothing else. It really is a lovely home he and Yoshizawa have. They lean into each other with genuine blissful interest, entertained by the other, respected and cherished by the other...

Akechi should just...let them. Let them be. Let them thrive and grow together, without him in the way. And he should... — He shakes his head. He doesn’t know what he should do. Anything but this, probably. Look at what he’s capable of. He’s so scared thinking about it.

He has money. He has options. He doesn’t know why he resents that so much.

Yoshizaw’s rambling about something. “So my sister was saying that maybe she wasn’t bisexual at all, right? Because she felt the same for everything. But that feeling was just...nothing. Isn’t that so funny? She found it from a post online. Changed her life. Nothing!”

“Nothing,” Akira laughs into his hand. He’s had a bit too much to drink and his cheeks are flushed and his eyes have that constant delighted sparkle. He leans half his weight over Yoshizawa’s shoulder but he peeks his eyes up over at Akechi. “Hey!” He twinkles and points his finger over his glass. “I just had a brilliant idea. She should totally talk to Goro. Goro’s bisexual. Oops. No, he’s not. Goro’s asexual. Got it. Hey. Goro. How did you know?”

“Hmm?” Akechi swirls his wine around in his glass, watching as the light catches the dark liquid. He thinks of milky white, intertwined with the golden sheen of stars. Of heat, of Akira’s sweet weak pleas.

“You’re kinda complicated, aren’t you?” Akira says, taking some of the weight from Yoshizawa’s shoulder and leaning forward over the table. He’s loose and tilt-y. “I can’t keep up. You were gay in high school.”

“I was gay in high school,” he echoes back, tilting his neck back as he takes a large swig.

“Though you didn’t tell me until our senior year.” He starts laughing again. “And you looked like you were about to confess to murder or something when you did. You were shaking so hard. I was like, ‘oh, shit, what did he DO?’”

He sighs into the air. “I was afraid you’d hate me for it. You meant a great deal to me. I wasn’t sure what I’d do if you rejected me over it.”

“Reject you? What’s it matter to me the kind of person you want to fuck? In hindsight, I probably should’ve guessed though. You never had any interest in anyone else.”

“Hmm.”

“Anyone else?” Yoshizawa asks curiously. “Other than who?”

Akechi lowers his eyes to his glass.

“Oh. I never told you, did I?” Akira says lightly. “Remember that one time? In the school parking lot, in your car, Goro. We tried it out for a bit. Goro and I. Speaking of sexuality, I mean...I’m not sure if I’m one-hundred percent straight if I dabbled. I mean. Right? Not that we got very far.”

Akechi forces a dry smile, eyes cutting daggers across the table at Akira, who grins foolishly back. “I’m not sure that counts,” he drawls, dangling the glass from the tips of his fingers as he taps the edge with his nail. It clings cleanly through the orchestra of crickets in the forest behind them. “Two hormonal teen boys living together in a small apartment all alone...hmmm. Trouble was afoot there. I could hear you masturbating through the walls multiple times a day, it was ridiculous. You hit puberty before I did and I had no idea what was happening to you, I was frightened. You came so fucking loud, like you were being murdered. There was hardly a moment of peace for me. You were clearly some sort of savage. You never did learn how to be quiet.”

“Goro,” Akira pleads, slapping a hand sluggishly to the table as Yoshizawa squeaks into her hand. “Mercy.”

“I’m only saying...our situation wasn’t exactly usual. At that age, everything was changing so quickly. Hormone-wise. Our bodies. We didn’t have our parents to tell us about it, we only had each other. Some experiments were bound to come up. It didn’t have to mean anything.”

“Mm,” Akira hums warmly, his head nestled in his arm. He looks half asleep already. “But it did, didn’t it? For you. I’ve always felt...really shitty about how that all went down...”

“Yes, well.” Akechi looks out into the darkness of the lonely forest. He can’t see anything out there, but he can hear the hundreds of bugs calling back for him. He fucking hates bugs.

Yoshizawa says in a small voice, “I didn’t know about all this. Why didn’t you tell me...?”

Akechi glances sideways back at them.

Akira blinks to himself, sobering quickly. He pushes himself back up halfway and gazes in alarm at her. “Oh... Uhhh...”

“I wouldn’t worry, Yoshizawa,” Akechi says pleasantly. “We only kissed once. And it was grey,” he chuckles softly, thinking about Akira’s face afterward, hand pressed over his mouth like he’d be sick. “It was dull. It was boring. It was completely and totally meaningless. Like kissing a mirror. Like kissing absolutely nothing. Isn’t that right, Akira?”

Akira and Yoshizawa stare at him for a moment before looking back at each other. Akira reaches out for her hand and gives it an encouraging squeeze. “He’s joking. Well. Not joking. But...”

“It was only an experiment,” Akechi says. “And nothing more.”

“He always calls it that,” Akira snorts as he shakes his head fondly. He grabs a glass of wine from the table — doesn’t matter whose — and tosses it down. “Experiment. Like I’m some sort of bizarre alien.”

“Aren’t you?” Akechi raises an eyebrow.

Akira laughs into his glass, the skin around his eyes creasing. “God, I’m drunk. You’re funnier than usual. That’s how I can tell. Comedian Goro.”

“Do you need some water?” Akechi asks. “I can go get some. You’re acting ridiculous again.”

Akira waves him away. “I’ve just known him since forever, Sumi. Forever. He’s like my brother, you know that. I wouldn’t be here without him. He saved my life. So many times... I love him.”

“We would’ve been screwed otherwise, wouldn’t we have?” Akechi mutters. “After both our mothers passed, we truly had no one else. It was just you and me.” His heart twists and he starts to feel that heated tug in his brain again. The one he always gets before an episode. Or maybe it’s just a continuation of the one he already had today. He closes his eyes tightly and tries to push it away, but he feels it inside, lurking, waiting.

“Hmmm,” Akira says sleepily. “Remember when your mom used to sing for us? Her voice was so beautiful... She’d sing us that same lullaby every night... We’d sing with her...”

“You’d sing with her. I was the only sane one of us three.”

“Yeah, right. You’d get out your little beat up violin and...” Akira mimes a violin and starts to hum beneath the stars. He whispers on a soft puff of a sigh, “I miss her. I think about her all the time still, you know? Every time I’m onstage —”

Akechi waves his hand in front of his face. “Stop. Stop that. ...God, I’m not drunk enough for this.”

Akira sloshes his arm over for the wine bottle. He shakes it enticingly. “We’ve got more.”

“I shouldn’t. I should head off already, I’ve overstayed my welcome. It seems I’ve upset your little girlfriend.” He pushes away from the table and gets to his feet. “My apologies.”

“I-I’m not upset,” Yoshizawa stammers quickly, snapping out of her dull reverie.

“Oh, Sumi,” Akira sighs, reaching a hand out to give hers a squeeze. “Because of what I said earlier about what Goro and I did in the car? Really, it was nothing.”

“No, really, it’s okay! I mean, you sing together, you play your violin together, you two are so close, you bought your houses together.”

“Built them together,” Akechi corrects.

“I...yeah. You built your houses next door to each other! That’s even crazier. I think I always sort of suspected there might’ve been something going on between you two, so I just...I don’t know...”

“You suspected we dabbled in each other?” He smirks.

“Goro,” Akira groans into both hands. “You’re in a mood. Sumi, don’t listen to him. There was no something. We barely did anything. We kissed. Once. A little touching, but barely. It was hardly even open-mouthed.”

“O-open-mouthed?” Yoshizawa says in a tiny insecure voice, eyes wide and pleading. Akechi smiles on the inside.

Akira chokes on his next gulp of wine. “I said barely.”

“Hardly any tongue at all,” Akechi provides helpfully.

“Okay! Yes. Thank you, Goro. It meant nothing to me! I couldn’t go through with it. Like he said, it was grey and cold and wet. It was so gross. It literally made me nauseous. It was like kissing a de —” Inhaling sharply, Akira turns his gaze over to Akechi with a quick snap, like he just realized he was still here. They lock eyes for a long moment. Akechi isn’t sure what’s on his face. He hopes that it’s nothing. He feels like it’s nothing.

But Akira looks for a long time before he settles back into his seat with a long weary sigh, running his both hands over his face and leaving them there. “God. I’m really drunk... I don’t know what I’m saying anymore. I-it didn’t make sense...and I didn’t mean... We should talk about this sober.”

“It’s alright. What were you going to say? I can take it. Like kissing a what?”

Guilt. It’s what motivates them, isn’t it? It’s Akira’s guilty look that tells Akechi all he needs to know. That’s how bad the memory is for him, he just accidentally let the truth slip this time. Any other time, he’s just lying to spare Akechi’s feelings. Because that’s how bad he was at kissing Akira, the one thing in his entire life that he wishes he had any talent for. The literal one thing. He just wants to please Akira and he’s always so lacking.

He’d trade it all away, you know? He’d give up the mansion, the job, the money, all of it. Forget genius, he doesn’t care. He’d live in a cold shack with barely enough money to scrape by and barely a brain to think if it meant he could keep Akira and be fully loved by him. How lucky would he be if there was that?

But no. He doesn’t get to have that trade. He’s stuck here, in this life, bitter and ugly and unwanted and thinking about it all. Seeing it all.

That strange tug in Akechi’s mind flares and pulls and the dam breaks loose. Ice floods through his entire body, prickling at his nerve endings, pulling so tight that it brands into him like a burn. Akechi stands there, swaying, feeling knocked off balance. He grabs the front of his jacket and gives it a sharp tug, trying to re-right himself. He blinks quickly and is surprised to hear how normal his voice sounds. “Right. Well, you two feel free to have this special little chat after I leave. I’d rather not be forced to relive my embarrassing teen years. Once with you was quite enough.”

“Goro, god, I’m so sorry,” Akira says softly into his arm. He shakes his head. “I’m really drunk. I didn’t mean —”

Akechi says, “You asked how I learned I was asexual.” He turns to Yoshizawa and gives a tight smile. “You can tell your sister that. Experiment. And if you only ever feel nothing with the person on the other end then, well, perhaps that’s all you were ever meant for.”

“Oh. Goro,” Akira murmurs muffled into his hand. “No. You know I didn’t mean —”

“— And neither did I. Goodnight. Thank you for the meal, Akira. Yoshizawa. It was lovely.” He steps down the fairy light lit path and sidesteps around their cat. “Morgana.”

“Goro,” Akira groans. “Come on! Wait a second. Please, let me explain —”

“I have work in the morning. I’ll talk to you later.”

“Shit,” Akira says softly to Yoshizawa. Akechi pushes through their house, but he can still hear him. “He’s definitely not upset about that... I’m such an idiot...”

“Oh...Akira, you need to go after him. I feel so sorry for him. He looked so hurt.”

“Goddammit... He’ll kill me if I go after him now. I didn’t mean... It’s such a weird topic. Back then, he asked me and what was I supposed to say? He wanted it so badly and he looked so hopeful and I just — I didn’t — I wasn’t —”

“I know,” she says gently. “I know.”

Akechi doesn’t know. He’s so fucking humiliated.

Did you want to? He had asked back then, a stupid naive little boy, shaking with nerves and excitement as he grabbed Akira’s hands into his. Did you want to try kissing?

How could he have been so stupid?! He bursts through their front door and stomps across their front yard lawn. He doesn’t even take the appropriate pathway down to the road. He leaps the fence and sprints across his front yard, scraping his thigh against the marble fountain and shoving his way through the front door.

He’s heaving by the time he makes it in. He leans all his weight into the door, sagging back into it.

He has everything. Everything. So why?! Watching that stupid perfect couple support and love and care about each other, be gentle and understanding and patient with each other — why does it make Akechi feel like he has nothing? It’s always like this. It aches throughout every fiber of his being, this loneliness, this constant pulsing reminder that he isn’t good enough. He’ll never be good enough. Not for the one person he cares about.

He grips at his face and wishes he could pull it right off.

His blood is bad. His skin is no good. This face. This mind. These hands. His heart.

He’d trade it all away. His body. His gender. His everything. He’d give it all away... If only he could, if only...

He slides down the door and lets his head sag into his knees. He has everything, but it’s all meaningless because he is who he is and that is all he will ever be.

It’s that tug. That low pulsing drone deep in his head, beating hollowly, reminding him that he’s worthless. It’s louder now and growing still. He couldn’t outrun it, he never can. All he can do is succumb.

He’s drowning. Someone help him... He can’t breathe.

Useless. He’s so useless.

“...Master?” A soft voice calls hesitantly from before him. “...Is everything alright?”

He sniffs wetly, looking up through the clutch of his hands into this being that he created. Arsène may not have a beating human heart. His soft skin might be only a copy. But in a world where there’s so little, Akechi has learned he must be grateful for any little scraps he can get. At least this being isn’t tainted. At least he’s only who Akechi says he is, nothing less, nothing more.

“Fuck me,” he whispers harshly. “Fuck me until I can’t move, until I’m screaming! Fuck me until I pass out. I want you to demolish me. Make me feel like I never existed at all. I want it to hurt. I want you to twist me up inside until I can’t even beg for you to stop. Send me under and do whatever you wish, I don’t want to be here anymore. I hate it here. I hate it here!!”

“Sir... If only you —”

“No. You don’t understand. He isn’t mine anymore. He’s hers and I have no one else. I have nobody. I’m all alone! It’s just you now. Help me!”

They stare at each other. Sharp grey into Akechi’s blood red.

“Please.” He’s already trembling. He’s not sure what he’ll do if he’s rejected. He’s going to explode. It’s happening, it’s already happening. “Please!” His scream whistles like a boiling kettle.

His butler hesitates for a moment before bowing his head and giving a long slow sigh.

So they do.

The next day, Akechi wakes late in the afternoon without much memory of the night before. He doesn’t even remember how he got to his bed. Arsène did as commanded. It was rough. It was chaotic. So chaotic he wasn’t sure which way was up or down or what the fuck was even being done to him. And now, Akechi is bruised and sore and aching all over. But at least it’s his body and not his heart. That’s what he tells himself, anyway.

His phone vibrates violently on the nightstand and, sluggishly, he cracks an eye open. With a tired groan, he snatches it up and glares into it. Late for work by hours, but he’s too important for them to fire, so they’ll just have to deal with it. He replies back that he’s not well, he’s got the flu, and they believe him because they have to. Then he collapses back into his bed and sleeps for the rest of the day.

It isn’t until evening that he wakes again. There’s the sound of footsteps. He thinks they’re Arsène’s, they’re precisely spaced like his. Light, like his, like a cat on the prowl. But when he opens his eyes, it’s Akira in the doorway.

“Ugh.” Akechi tsks bitterly, his voice is low gravel. He really does sound sick. “...I told that fucking useless excuse for a butler not to let anyone in.”

“Yeah. I had to override it.”

“Fucking traitor robot...” he spits. “He loves you more than he loves me.”

“That’s not true. But if it makes you feel any better, he sort of put up a fight. Then he saw I brought you some leftovers, so...” Akira says, stepping in and taking a seat on the edge of the bed. “We all know you haven’t eaten yet.”

“A fucking narc too.”

“That one I just guessed. ...Smells uhhhh...kinda funky in here, bud. When was the last time you washed these sheets...? Urgh, god, what is this all over it? A crime scene? It’s all over the whole fucking bed! It looks like... Oh.”

Akechi closes his eyes in misery. “It’s snot. I’m sick.”

“Uh... ...Right... Let me...open a window.” He gets up and tosses the curtains back despite Akechi’s protest. Sunlight streams in and a gentle breeze flows through. Despite its softness, it sets Akechi’s skin on fire and he shudders, drawing into himself. Akira frowns at that. “You alright? I texted you a few times, but you didn’t answer.”

“I’m sick. I’ve been sleeping. I’ve got the flu.”

Akira gives a low laugh and puts a hand on his hip. “You always get the flu whenever you’re upset.”

“Shut up, Akira,” Akechi says and it surprises even him how it doesn’t come out as a joke. His voice is sharp and angry and hurt.

Akira hears it. He bites at his lip for a second before sitting back on the side of the bed and taking out the food containers. “I’m really sorry about last night. You know how mouthy I get when I’m drunk. I say stupid shit I don’t mean, I’ve always been like that. Remember during that Halloween party at your university? God, the embarrassment from that day still haunts me. I should’ve never —”

“— I don’t give a shit about last night,” he mutters, pulling the blankets over his shoulder as he turns in bed onto his side, away from Akira. He stares blankly at the wallpaper. “I’ve got the flu.”

“Okay,” Akira say softly. He takes out another container. “Sumi made you this. It’s lemon bundt cake. It’s her favorite. She thought it might cheer you up. Sunshine in a bottle, she calls it.” He chuckles and then hesitates. “I’ll put it on the nightstand.”

Akechi stays quiet, holding his breath and playing dead, hoping his shaking is all internal for now. He feels like he’s going to pop. Sunshine in a bottle? How is a cake a bottle?

Akira is quiet too for a while. “Okay,” he whispers, getting to his feet and folding the bag back up. “I’ll put the perishables in the fridge for you. Get Arsène to serve it when you’re ready, okay? ...Feel better, Goro. I —” He takes another deep breath and then says, even softer, “Feel better.”

Akira steps away from the bed and heads to the door.

Akechi thinks he makes it. He really does. But he can’t hold his breath any longer and he inhales sharply, the sound pulling harshly against his throat. And it’s the most unfortunate thing. It sounds just like a sob. An honest to god sob.

Immediately, he’s humiliated. At the sound, Akira’s footsteps come to an abrupt halt and he turns.

“Go away,” he begs, cramming his face into his pillow and pulling the covers over his head. “Just go the fuck away already. You’re always here.”

The bed dips beside him, the covers lift, and Akira scoots into bed with him, nestling up against his back. He presses his face deep into Akechi’s shoulder blade and just breathes against him.

“Ugh, don’t touch me,” he whimpers, struggling to fight him off, but it’s no use. Akira begins to hum softly into his skin, that same stupid lullaby his mother used to sing for them. He’s playing dirty.

They used to do this as kids all the time. When their parents began to abandon them, and then die. And they’d feel like the most wretched awful people in the world, but at least not to the other. They would hold each other. Some nights they’d do it even if they were just lonely. When they felt like the only two people left in this horrible aching world. At least the other had their back and the world would be liveable for a little while longer.

They’re adults now. So no one really cares about that sort of thing anymore, at least not out loud. And Akira has someone else to hold close. They haven’t done this in so long and it somehow hurts more now than it helps. Akira’s like an anchor at his back, but Akechi knows it’ll be gone sooner rather than later because Akira’s place is no longer here. Akechi’s so lost at sea, drowning, drowning, drowning...

“I’m just — I’m having troubles at work,” Akechi heaves into his hands as he picks at his lip to bits. “This idiot and I — we’re fighting. I don’t — You know I don’t work well with people. I don’t know what to do. I never know what to do.”

Akira brushes his fingers through Akechi’s hair gently. “What happened? Tell me. We can talk it through.”

“No,” he says sharply. “No, I don’t want to talk about it. It doesn’t matter. He doesn’t even know we’re fighting anyway.”

“You have to tell him, Goro. How can it right itself if you never say anything? You always do that... You’re only hurting yourself.”

Akechi shakes his head in defeat. He has before. In that backseat in their high school parking lot, giving away his heart because he was young and naive and hopeful. He’s regretted it ever since. You can’t go back from that. You can’t go back from not being loved.

“Goro,” Akira sighs again, his fingers coming back up and running through the length of his hair. Akechi hates it because it softens him. That simple touch sets his nerve endings on fire, tricks him into rethinking his worth. It’s what their mothers did for them before they fucking left. They always leave.

“Stop it,” he whispers, shifting his shoulders so he’s out of Akira’s reach. He knows Akira’s not going to stop, Akira loves following him in, so he pushes himself onto his back and turns on his other side so they’re face-to-face.

He looks at Akira. Akira looks back. They don’t say anything to each other.

He could. He could take Akira’s advice and let him know. Not admit his undying romantic love for him, not again. But maybe something just as truthful.

You’re all I have left, Akechi thinks, at first, but then discards. Because how pathetic is that. Akira couldn’t say it back.

What would Akira say? Not with his mouth, but with his heart? I love Sumi most. I want to create a new life with her. I have a future, but I don’t need you in it. You’re expendable. You’re second best, if that. You could die and I would move on just fine. I have so many others, what are you worth? I would be just fine.

Akechi breaks eye contact first, staring up at the drapery of his bed frame.

You could die. And I’d be just fine.

He closes his eyes and presses his lips together tightly. It’s the truth. If Akira were to die, Akechi’s life would end. If Akechi were to die, nothing would change. Maybe he’d feel more free than ever before. Maybe it’d be better that way. Maybe he should just do it already. Stop being so selfish.

“Goro,” Akira whispers, blankets shifting over him as he scoots in closer. “Is this really just about that...? Is it —” He hesitates, letting the words hang.

He opens his eyes and looks up into that conflicted bright grey. You’re all I have left. I love you, I love you, I love you... But what good is that? His love isn’t pure, like Akira’s.

It was grey, Akira would say back. I couldn’t go through with touching him. He’s gross. It felt like kissing a de — What? It felt like what? Kissing a dead person? A rotted corpse? Desperate and needy and slobbering all over him. Disgusting and hungry as Akira gasped for freedom and tried to pry Akechi’s tight hold off of him. But Akechi didn’t get it, didn’t understand, so foolishly assumed Akira wanted it too, assumed that he was worthy of Akira’s love, assumed so many horrible disgusting things.

Akira stays because he’s good. He stays, watching over Akechi, as Akechi gets more and more twisted and demented as time goes on, warped with his hunger. Shaped into what he is by his anger and his pain and his awful pathetic loneliness.

Akira and him were the same at one point. He thought they’d always stay like that. But somehow, along the way, Akechi stopped growing, and Akira’s gone ahead without him. Soon, he won’t look back.

Akira watches him carefully, expression growing more concerned by the second. He reaches forward, brushing Akechi’s hair from his face. “Goro...? Is it getting bad again...?”

There’s real fear in his voice. Akechi can’t look.

“What is it? You always suffer alone, but you can tell me. You can tell me anything. I want to hear it, whatever it is.”

Doesn’t matter. Nothing matters. Not love. Not friendship. Not loyalty or family. Not anything. It’s all just a sham. A bedtime story. This is reality.

Akechi turns his face. “I just hate work. I hate my life. I hate everything.”

Akira sighs, hand tightening around Akechi. “I know... I know you do. Hang in there. Please. Just a little longer. You’ll find it, I promise you. You’ll find the person who makes you most happy and it’ll all feel so worth it...”

Akechi stares blankly at the wall in front of him. He feels something stir inside of him, something like hurt and anger. Because Akira’s so stupid sometimes, he can’t really be this oblivious. Akechi found that person long ago. Can’t he see?

People talk about it like, once you find that person, everything will be alright. But, for Akechi, it doesn’t mean a single thing.

Time passes.

Akechi is busy. Very busy. What else is life for if not work and getting shit done. His people need him! He’s making robots and shit. Weapons and shit. Medical equipment. Jet engines. It doesn’t fucking matter. He doesn’t fucking care. People ask him and then he just does it because he can. And, in the meantime, he can focus on his own hobbies. Fuck it.

It’s just such bullshit. Akira keeps coming over, not realizing how busy Akechi is. Wanting to go for runs each night. Asking to hang out. Asking to go out and ranting on and on about how it’s not good for Akechi to stay inside and hide away or whatever Akira keeps blabbering on about. But who is Akechi hiding from? He isn’t hiding. He’s just busy! Adults are busy. That’s just what happens. They always say how hard it is to maintain friendships in adulthood. Akira’s job is easy, not like Akechi’s, he wouldn’t know. He wishes Akira would just fuck off.

They come over with more lemon bundt cakes. Akechi lets them go to waste. They make food. Akechi doesn’t eat a single fucking bite. He sees them through those stupid thin curtains again, mouthing at each other and touching and slapping in and — FUCK. Akechi has Arsène order the thickest fucking blackout curtains known to man. They need boundaries, for CHRIST’S SAKE. Akira’s been stepping all over him all these years but no more. Fuck him. Fuck him and his stupid perfect girlfriend. Fuck all that.

Boundaries, boundaries, boundaries!

Akechi’s exhausted. He can’t eat. The thought of having Akira and not having him is sharp and nauseating. He’s getting thinner again, like when they were in school and Akira noticed and flipped out at him. This is a disaster. Akira’s going to sniff it out again. He’s going to start harassing him, and that’s all he needs. So he starts wearing clothes that can conceal it.

As if this is even the biggest problem here. He keeps thinking about it...about his secret little room. He’s had it for almost a decade now. No one’s ever known. But now that Akira does, even if he’s currently forgotten, it’s changed something in such a big way and Akechi can’t get it out of his head. His dream became a reality... On accident, but still.

Now, going down there, Akechi stares at the machines. What used to fuel his fucked up mind with thoughts of pretend play, wistful dreams, and non-stop thoughts of Akira, just fills him with frustration now.

He had it. How can he possibly go back to dreaming now? He knows how warm Akira is against the tips of his sensitive fingers... The sound of Akira’s moans vibrated through his skull, cut through his skin... He took a bit of Akira’s virginity that night...in the ways it counts most for Akechi anyway. Akira splattered his pleasure across his floor. Came like a moaning siren in his bed. Such a beautiful creature...

Akechi can’t stop thinking about it. About Akira. About luring him down there even now, again, and again, and again... He could do it, and so easily too. Akira wouldn’t even think to question him, he’d follow so willingly. It’s making Akechi a little insane. The only one stopping him is himself and why is he betraying himself like this...? Doesn’t he deserve nice things...?

What happened to him? Akira’s livelihood is placed atop Akechi’s frail shivering shoulders. And he used to be so confident he’d do whatever he could to make sure Akira was healthy and safe and happy. But he isn’t all that strong of a person when it comes to Akira anymore. His intentions are warping, he can feel it. He’s changing. Desperation is wearing a hole in his brain. It’s so much easier to lock himself away.

Or it would be, if only Akira would let him.

He doesn’t know what to do. Akira’s the last of his family. Akechi loves him in a selfless way too, it isn’t all just perversion. Right...?

Akira doesn’t want him. He pities him. It’s not the same thing. He keeps him around because what else is he supposed to do? Akechi should just sever that bond.

Boundaries. Boundaries. Boundaries...

He sits on the third story balcony of his astral observatory, legs hanging over the sides as he stares down, down, down. The bell hangs overhead, golden and proud, beneath the deep blue and gold starlit mural painted on the dome above. He and Akira painted it together. Climbed ladders over sheets thrown over the floor, laughing away as Akira sang to the radio at the top of his lungs. Their hand prints alternated together form the sun on the ceiling right where the large church bell now hangs. Arsène imported it from France. That seemed important, at the time. But this whole room seems so pointless now, just like everything else in this world. Color means nothing. Their bright yellow handprints placed over deep dark blue is just a faded memory. That means nothing too.

Akechi presses his face against the thin railing. It’s more decorative than anything, it isn’t as if he’ll ever have children here. Unless Akira has children, of course, then he supposes he’ll have to have it changed out then... Little kids who have Akira’s curly black hair and Yoshizawa’s dumb brown eyes, trailing their dirt and mess through Akechi’s pristine house, creating chaos and wreaking havoc on all of Akechi’s nice neat things.

Maybe he’ll have to buy a jungle gym outside so he can have a few moments with Akira every once in a while — a desperate attempt at getting more, as he always wants. Akira’s attention will be split even more then. No drops in the bucket left for Akechi. The jungle gym probably wouldn’t even work.

The railing wiggles a little, out of place. He tightens his fingers over the spindles and gives a soft push. If he were to push more and it were to fall, what would happen then? His weight might pitch forward, his legs that dangle now would slip through the cracks and slide down, further and further and further...

Would Akira cry over him?

He should make a will. What’s he doing? He needs to be certain that, no matter what happens, Akira will be taken care of. It’d be good to make it official. He’ll have Arsène call someone tonight.

He gives another sharp push, watching the distant ground through dull eyes. Over four stories high. He would not survive the fall. That same starburst that watches over him overhead waits down below, a mirrored twin mosaic on the floor.

The railing creaks out of place even more. The star, the air between them, the fall.

Bullseye.

Footsteps come in from behind him. “Thank fucking god. There you are. I’ve been looking all over for you in your giant mansion. I could get lost in here all day long, it’s insane. We did not need to draw this place up so big...my legs are tired.”

Akechi doesn’t bother turning. He keeps his eyes right where they are, on the circular starburst far far below.

Bullseye, bullseye, bullseye.

Fall.

Crash.

If he were to turn around, he’d have to see Akira in front of the portrait of the two of them, nestled in their mothers’ arms. It was a Christmas gift from Akira one year. When he puts his mind to it, he can actually be a very decent artist. Such is the blessed life of Akira, his heart bursting with talent and potential. Art isn’t where his heart lies though and he doesn’t often try, but this piece is undeniably gorgeous. It’s the four of them, when they thought times were rough, before they became infinitely rougher.

Akira’s eyes are the brightest part of the piece, like piercing moonlight. Akechi’s are moody and dark and a deep brooding red, even as a child. The pitch darkness that comes with a new moon. Honestly, looking into it makes Akechi want to rake his claws through the thing. But he doesn’t. Because Akira made it.

It’s no wonder, though, why Akira never loved him like that.

“Oowww,” Akira is still moaning from behind him. “My legsss...”

Akechi sighs, “You know Arsène would’ve told you where I was if only you’d asked. He can hear my heartbeat anywhere in this place.”

“Yeah, but that’s no fun.”

“Life isn’t fun.”

Akira snorts. “Still got the flu, huh? I think I can see an actual storm cloud over your head. Are you leaning into the railing like that on purpose or do you just court death naturally? Come on. You’re making me nervous.”

Akechi just sighs again, but he allows Akira to manhandle him off of the railing. He drags Akechi inward, safe from any harm and gives both of his shoulders an encouraging pat.

The portrait of them is there, staring back over at them like it’s trying to make a statement or something. Akira only has smiles for it. “Were we the fucking cutest, or what?” He tries to annoy some life into Akechi by ruffling his hair. “Yusuke cried when I showed it to him for critique, you know. The innocence of our youth was too much for him to handle when we look like — and I quote — ‘chubby cheeky cherubs’.” He chuckles softly beneath his breath. “Hey. Say that five times really fast.”

“We both grew up to look exactly like our mothers.”

“Isn’t that sort of hilarious? Thank fucking god for that. They were both fucking gorgeous. Could you imagine if we took after the ugly parent?”

“I’m not even sure what we’d look like then.”

“Ugly, that’s what. You heard how they talked about them.”

“They were bitter. They’d both been abandoned and shitting on the men who left them was the perfect way to bond.” Akechi thinks about their mothers gossiping on the couch together, animated and bright as they laughed away. At their feet, Akechi and Akira played together, Akechi openly staring at Akira’s abnormally large eyes, transfixed. That’s one of the biggest things he remembers from youth: Akira’s eyes. And his smile. Akira always smiled so much and Akechi was mystified by him. His mother saw right through him and always pushed them together.

He says, “How would you feel if the person you loved most left you for someone better?”

“Like those traitors were the ugliest sons of bitches ever.”

Akechi looks down, smiling crookedly at his feet. “You understand. I’m glad they had each other though.”

“Yeah. Me too. They seemed happy, at the end.”

He sniffs as some of that brittle armor chips off between them. It makes it possible to finally be a normal human being and try something polite. “How’s Yoshizawa doing?”

Akira grins brightly. “Goro! I’m so glad you asked. She’s good. We wanted to invite you over for dinner tonight. I’ve been wanting to talk to you for ages now, but you’re a hard man to convince lately. I need to discuss something pretty important with you. It’s not like...scary though, so don’t freak out about it. But I’d still like to have a chat soon. A ‘you and me’ chat.”

Akechi eyes Akira warily, crossing his arms in a tight defensive wall over his chest. “We’re talking right now, aren’t we? Why can’t we just discuss it here?”

“No, no, no, come over. We’re making lasaaaagna.” Akira opens his arms wide and steps up on the deep blue tiled window sill, fully bathed in pure sunlight. He turns into it, humming and smiling, arms up theatrically. “I bought the good brand of cottage cheese this time, you’ll be thrilled! I’ll even toss in some broccoli for you since I know you like it. Even if broccoli in lasagna is freaking weird.”

“Hm,” Akechi hums softly, turning. He looks into Akira’s mother’s face. Moonlight and thick lashes and a beauty that doesn’t compare to Akira’s. Almost, but not quite. “Maybe some other time, Akira, I’m not exactly feeling up for going out.”

Akira’s smile falters. “...Aw, come on. You’ve been turning us down every night these past few weeks. And it’s hardly going out, I live right...” He squints out the window and stabs his finger to the glass, downward. It could literally be Akechi’s backyard. “There.”

Akechi wraps his arms around his core and closes his eyes. “Akira. I’m tired...”

The old Akira would’ve understood, but this one’s forgotten what it’s like. He leaps off the windowsill and grabs Akechi by both shoulders. His bangs fall, wild and free over his eyes and he shakes it away. “Even more reason to take a break with us! I promise not to say anything shitty if I get drunk. I’ll be on my best behavior. Actually, you know what? I won’t drink at all. Just for you. And Sumi made pie. It’s too much for the both of us, we’d never be able to eat it all and we can’t let it go to waste! You liked it too, didn’t you? She’s a sucker for lemon, but who isn’t? It’s like the sun. Even looks like it.”

“I’m thinking of moving.”

Akira chokes violently on nothing. “What?”

Akechi takes a deep breath, looking back up to his mother for help. She smiles back. Keep Akira close, okay? He needs you. He shakes her voice away, waving his hand in front of his face. “You’re good now. You don’t need me anymore. And I —”

“What are you talking about? I don’t need you? What?!”

“You have a life here. You have a future. And I —”

“Goro, wait. Slow the fuck down. You’re leaving?! Why?!”

Akira is so loud and Akechi is so tired. “I just —” He closes his eyes. Boundaries. Clearly, he can’t do them halfway, but he can do this. He can be that person he used to be, the one who put Akira first. The one who did what they had to in order to keep them both alive, even if it was unpleasant, even if it was painful. This is the right thing for both of them. The least painful.

He takes a deep breath. “Maruki and I’ve been talking. And I don’t know. I’ve been feeling...” Heartbroken. He shakes his head. “Off. I hate my coworkers. The job’s stagnant. I’m miserable. Nothing feels like enough anymore, I’m not sure if it ever did.”

“Is it —” Akira licks his lips, eyes wild and desperate. Light streams in from the astral observatory’s windows and he looks like a sad angel. “Is it because...”

“It isn’t you,” Akechi says gently. “I just feel unsettled. And I know you’re quite literally the opposite. I’m happy for you, I am, but I just feel like... I don’t know — I don’t have anything here. I’m all alone in this house...and you...your home isn’t mine anymore. Nothing’s the same. There’s no reason for me to still be here. And I just...”

“So it is me,” Akira whispers, pressing two fingers into his lips tightly.

“Akira —”

“I’ll be better!” Akira says, grabbing onto Akechi’s wrist and dragging him in closer. “I will! I know I’ve been spending a lot more time with Sumi lately but that’s just — I mean, it’s...” He groans. “I-I need to talk with you about that... But I’ve wanted to spend time with you. It’s just really fucking hard to break through when you’re blocking me out like this. I thought if I gave you some space, you’d come back. I didn’t think you’d leave!” He shakes Akechi by the arm again. “What am I supposed to do without you?! We’ve always lived with each other! I can’t remember not ever having you right there. When you went off to University, it was torture.”

“Akira, I didn’t even want to go. You made me apply. You made me attend.” It was right after The Confession and it always felt like Akira was sending him away.

Go go go, he said.

“It was for your own good!” Akira cries. “I couldn’t just keep you home when you had all this in your future. Look at all you’re doing now!”

“I don’t know what I’m doing. I just do what they tell me to. None of it means anything to me.”

“Goro, please.” Akira breathes, sounding winded and half crazed. “Please don’t move. You’ve always — You’re always there. You’re always at my back, always by my side. Even when you’re busy. Even when you’re avoiding me, even when everything else around me is falling apart and everyone’s dying and nothing makes sense, even then, you’re still there. I can’t be alone. Not again. Not like when they left us. I can’t be like that. I can’t do that by myself.” He wheezes, hyperventilating.

“Akira,” Akechi sighs wearily. “Akira, breathe. You’re not breathing. You’re going to give yourself a —”

But Akira still doesn’t breathe. He doesn’t even hear him. He stands and paces the circular observatory. “Back then... Your mom. She promised us we’d be safe. She promised that she’d stay with us, that she’d never go. That she wouldn’t die on us. And then she fucking — We had no one, Goro. From that point on. We had nothing. No one was coming to save us. They would’ve all let us starve, let us die. If it wasn’t for you — But now you’re leaving? You’re abandoning me too? It’s because you hate me, isn’t it? Oh, god. I fucked up. But I can be better, Goro, I promise. I’ll do whatever you want. Just tell me. Just tell me what you want me to do! I’ll do it!”

Akechi grits his teeth. Boundaries... Boundaries... But it’s so hard when Akira’s looking like this... Akechi knows it’s all trauma from their past, it’s Akira’s deepest darkest fear and Akechi’s ripping him apart.

Boundaries. Boundaries!

“You can’t leave me,” Akira pants, tossing himself to his knees in front of Akechi again, hands digging in. He bows his head to him. “You can’t. You can’t do that. Not you too. Never you. You promised me. You promised. When we were kids... When you stayed with me, when you cared for me, I always thought — I always assumed —” He pauses, staring hard at the floor, face white as a sheet as he struggles. “Oh...I don’t feel so good. I don’t feel good at all. I’m going to throw up. I’m going to pass out. I can’t feel my fingers.” He looks down at them with wide eyes. “I-I’m floating. I’m not...tethered... I...” He stares randomly up at the ceiling, eyes unfocused and jittering. “Ooooh...fuck!”

“Breathe. Akira. You’re having another one of your panic attacks. Notice it. Can you feel my hand grabbing onto yours? Feel the heat from it?”

“B-but I d-don’t — I don’t get them anymore. I’m better now. I’m better! Fu-u-uck....”

Akechi looks at Akira’s pale shivering face and sighs. “Come here,” he murmurs, gathering Akira up into both arms and dragging him in. In gentle soothing circles, he rubs Akira’s skin, trying to bring him back into his body. “It’s okay. You’re alright. I’m right here. Nothing’s happening right now, just focus on breathing. In and out... In and out.”

“I feel...” Akira breathes unevenly. “Everything’s so —”

“Notice. Feel your knees against the cold granite floor? Hear the birds through the window. Hear my voice. I’m right here. I’m with you, I’m with you... See the stars on the ceiling? That vivid blue you wanted so much that you fought me on...it’s still here, it’s still here...”

Tenderness has always felt so painful when you’re wallowing in the absence of love. At the touch, Akira breaks down. He weeps into Akechi’s shoulder, clutching tightly to his back. “Everyone’s leaving. I’m all alone. What am I doing wrong?”

“What are you talking about? You’re so beloved, you have so many people. I’m right here. You’re not alone. Feel me against you? Feel my breath?” He grabs Akira’s hand and pulls it over his chest, above his heart. “Feel my heart beating? I’m not leaving you. I wasn’t going to sell the house... I just...need a vacation or something. I don’t know,” he says helplessly.

Akira heaves out a full-bodied sob. His hand clenches over Akechi’s clothes, holding tightly to the space above his heart. “What did I do?”

Akechi closes his eyes heavily, holding onto him tighter. “Nothing. Sometimes I just...I don’t know how to control my emotions. I get jealous and it consumes me. But it isn’t your fault, it’s mine.”

“Jealous...? What? But you have a literal mansion.”

“I know,” he whispers, petting Akira’s hair carefully and nuzzling his face in. “What’s going on with you? I didn’t think you’d even care.”

“What do you mean?” Akira whispers desperately, his soft lips brushing against the sensitive skin of Akechi’s neck. Akechi can feel every minute movement, every shift of Akira against his body, warm and soft and tender. A vulnerable heart bleeding over him. One he mustn’t have. “You’re my best friend, my brother, of course I care. I love you with everything in me.”

Akechi stares with dull flat eyes at the wall. It isn’t fair that he gets to say things like that.

“We can still talk to each other,” Akechi murmurs, twirling Akira’s soft curls around his fingers. “We can still see each other. Honestly, I... What does it matter, Akira? You have your Yoshizawa.”

Akira’s tone tightens with stress. “What does that mean? I don’t get why you keep saying that. I want you too. You’ve always been there. I don’t want — Just thinking of you not being there anymore —” He’s quiet for a moment. “I guess you’re feeling lonely in this house, aren’t you...? And I’m being selfish.”

Akechi stares at Akira, fallen apart and so small and dejected looking. And he just feels...mad. Akechi’s been here all along. Decades, he’s waited. He’s always given every scrap of himself to Akira, every last shred, hoping he’d see, hoping he’d one day reciprocate, but it never meant anything. And Akira doesn’t want him to take back the scraps. Even though Akechi’s scraps are hardly even second best to what he has from Yoshizawa, from every other girlfriend he’s brought home and delighted inside.

I want you, Akira says so casually, when Akechi isn’t allowed to say it at all.

He is being selfish.

Akechi keeps brushing his soft hair. He says lowly, “You can’t have everything, you know.”

Akira looks up, eyes wide. Then, he flickers them down as he nods. “Sorry. I’m sorry.”

“I don’t want to leave either. I’ve thought about it a lot lately. I have no other options. What am I supposed to do? Keep living like this? I’m miserable.”

Akira’s breath catches and his red-rimmed eyes well up again. “I know. I know you’ve been upset. I’m so sorry.”

“But I... I need you too.”

Akira closes his eyes heavily.

Akechi presses his lips together tightly as he continues running his hands through Akira’s hair. “..Maybe...a vacation. A few months. And then next year —”

“Next year?!” Akira chokes desperately.

“Fine. A month. I need a month, Akira. That’s not too much to ask.”

Akira’s still heaving and shaking. He buries his face into Akechi’s neck, dragging him in as close as he can manage. He shudders like it’s freezing in here, even though it’s the perfect temperature. He makes small involuntary noises beneath his breath. He tries to nod, but he begins to sob again and it somehow doesn’t seem much like agreement at all.

“Jesus, Akira,” Akechi breathes, rubbing him soothingly over his back. “You’re a fucking mess.”

“I’m sorry,” Akira chokes. His back heaves against Akechi’s hands. “I’m so sorry. A month is reasonable. Totally reasonable. I dunno why I can’t stop.”

“I know. I know you can’t. It’s okay. I’m right here. I’m still here.”

“Don’t leave. Don’t leave me,” he whispers desperately into Akechi’s skin, branding him with his need, with his desire.

Akechi doesn’t know if Akira means only currently or in the future. Akira probably doesn’t even know himself, but Akechi feels his will and logic shrivel into nothingness. “...Two weeks. Would you be okay if it was just two weeks?”

Akira nods quickly, gripping him in. “Sorry. I’m so sorry.”

“Shh, shh. Don’t worry. I don’t want you to worry, Akira. I’m right here for you. I’m right here.”

“Yes,” Akira breathes, in relief, finally. He curls into Akechi’s chest like he’s five again. “Yes. Goro... God. Goro...”

They sit like that for a long time, Akira collapsed over Akechi in the center of this odd colorful observatory.

It was Akira’s idea. What should Akechi do with all his money? It was a question that drove him a little insane, at first, because there’d never been an excess of anything in their lives. Akechi felt like he needed to use it, like he needed more food for Akira, more clothes for him, more anything. Growing up like they did, some people hoard it throughout adulthood. Akechi still doesn’t know what to do with it all.

So they built the moon and the stars. A starlit observatory to look into the night sky and see what might be there for them in the pitch darkness of night.

It is nice, Akechi thinks. It has Akira written all over it. The brightly speckled deep blue walls that almost look black, the golden baubles tied to the ceiling, the benches carved by hand. Stark and bright and odd, like him. Unique and special, like him.

They sit beneath this odd space built by the two of them. They sit long enough for Akira’s shaking to quell, for his sobs to soften and even back into a soft natural rhythm. For him to float back into his body and attach to it, sturdy and firm and sure again. So he can fully return to himself and be Akira again.

And, even then, Akira stays bundled up in Akechi’s warmth and safety even longer. It’s evening before Akechi has to pee so badly he can’t sit still any longer. Akira’s collapsed his entire weight over Akechi, in some sort of post-panic attack stasis. He has his eyes closed, deep breathing, but he moves and shifts every once in a while with semi-consciousness.

“Akira,” Akechi groans. “Hey. I’m sorry, but I’ve really got to pee; pretty soon I’m just going to do it on you. Wake the fuck up.”

Akira makes a soft sound beneath his breath as he blinks himself groggily back into his body. He peers blearily out the window, blinking slowly a few times. “It’s dark...?” He mumbles, barely intelligible. The golden baubles are lit now, spinning slowly and reflecting their glittery light around the place.

“Yeah. It’s eight.”

“Shit... Sorry,” he murmurs again, rubbing at his blotchy face. He makes no move to get up. He seems very content to just stay pressed over Akechi’s chest all night.

“You alright?”

Akira shakes his head. “Yeah, I... I feel like I just manipulated the hell out of you.”

“No. We both have our damage, that’s just how it is.”

Akira nods uncertainly. He bites at his lip harshly, until his lip turns white. He looks up when he notices Akechi watching him and manually softens his face into a smile. “Go. Pee. I’m fine.”

“Hmm... What’s on your mind? You’re so serious. I’m not used to it.”

Akira doesn’t laugh. He goes back to biting his lip, conflicted. “It’s just...will it really be alright...? That little amount of time? It sounds like you want to get away... Y-you can go on vacation longer, I mean. A month or two. Or three. Until the next year. I mean, it’s basically the end of the year as it is, that’s not...unreasonable. I don’t know why I... I was being ridiculous. I was just...panicking. Everything seemed so huge, so final. But now, I’m just thinking... I don’t mean to tether you to me when you want to go. That’s just selfish of me. You should go if you want to go. I’m okay. I’ll be okay.”

“How about we just play it by ear, hm? I can fly back whenever. It’s not like I’ll be teleporting to another dimension, we have wiggle room. If you get sick or...or start getting panic attacks, I’ll come back for you that very minute. You know I would.”

Akira gives a faint laugh and runs his hand through his hair. “Yeah, no, I know. I just...lost my mind for a second there. I don’t know. It seemed so permanent. Like you were leaving forever. Dying, like...like they did...” He takes a deep long breath.

“It’s okay. I get it.”

“I know you do,” he sighs, looking downtrodden and weary.

“I’ll leave you Arsène. He can keep you company in my stead.”

Akira waves him away quickly. “No. I couldn’t do that to you, you love him.”

“I don’t love him. He’s just a robot.”

Akira flicks his gaze up at him with dark amusement. “How can you say that? ‘Just a robot’? He’s practically our son, of course you love him. No, you take Arsène with you, it’ll make me feel better anyway. I like how he takes care of you when I’m not around. Don’t worry about me. I’m being stupid. I’ll be fine, I have Sumi, like you said.”

“Yes. I suppose you do.”

“Will you call me?”

“I’ll call you everyday.”

“Yeah? But you hate the phone.”

“I know. But I’ll do it anyway.”

Akira smiles softly at him, the last of the tension easing out of his shoulders. “Okay. Cool. Yeah, I can do this. This sounds good. Phew! You get a vacation! About time, you never take a break. I feel better already. Video calls? I want to see your face.”

“Ugh. Now you’re fucking pushing it.”

“Goro.”

“Fine. Fucking video calls... But only because you just cried all over the place and I don’t want to have to see that again.”

Akira barks out a laugh and collapses into a hug over Akechi’s shoulders. “Okay,” he whispers into his ear. “Asshole.”

Akechi says all that, but he watches Akira closely to make sure he’s really alright.

Sometimes he resents what they have: this bond, so tightly knotted, that Akira seems so free in and Akechi does not. But the feeling is only present during the times he forgets about the little boy he knew. The little boy who clung to him, who needed him, literally. Who was scared and hungry and trembled against him, cried against him, was ill and weak and completely open and vulnerable against him. They thought they’d die without the other. They really did. And they probably would have.

Akira is still that little boy, it’s just his body has grown. And he still needs Akechi just like Akechi needs him. Maybe, in some ways, he needs Akechi more. He’s always been so fucking soft and open — it leaves him susceptible, leaves him vulnerable. Akechi’s the one who burns his wounds into scars.

What’s Akechi supposed to do? He can’t stay here and watch Akira fall more and more in love with Yoshizawa. But he can’t leave and hurt him either. So what’s left?

Who does he give up here? Akira? Or him?

He already knows, he’s always known.

Akira feels Akechi’s gaze and looks up again, pulling up a bright brave smile. “I’m good, Goro. Sorry. That came on quick and sudden, huh? Jesus. The mind is so...weird... It’s been awhile since my last panic attack, hasn’t it? What was it? When you were at University?”

“Hmm. My first time away. You called me, sobbing. I couldn’t understand a word you were saying, you were speaking so quickly. I was so scared.”

Akira laughs wetly, rubbing at his watering eyes again. “You were in the middle of class and you left to talk in the bathroom and that guy yelled at you for disturbing his royal throne time.”

“Fucking...don’t remind me.”

“I’ve never heard you cuss someone out like that before,” Akira sighs happily. “It was impressive.”

“I shouldn’t have done that. You were already upset. I should’ve been calming you down.”

“Nah, it was funny. Besides, you did calm me down. I knew you would fight for me... Just like you did today too. Thank you, Goro. I’m glad you were here this time and every time... You’re just...always there. You know how much I appreciate you, right?”

“Yeah,” he whispers, threading a stray piece of Akira’s bangs out of his eyes and behind his ear. Akira glances over and smiles crookedly at him, the lights from their strings warming the side of his face and twinkling like miracles in his eyes.

Akechi says gently, “Do you think we need to take you to the doctor again? Get you back on meds? I’ve had to up mine recently. Perhaps it’s something in the air.”

Akira gives him a curious half glance. “You didn’t tell me you’ve upped your meds recently. Why? I thought you hated the side effects. Dampens your stride or whatever.”

“Just stressed, I suppose. Don’t worry, I’m feeling okay.”

“Really?” He leans in and pinches Akechi’s gut, who scowls and shies away. “What’s going on here? I noticed it earlier. You’re feeling kinda skinny again, Goro. You’re not wearing baggier outfits on purpose to hide it, are you...?”

Akechi rubs his legs in a painful grudging attempt to get friction back into them. “Yoshizawa home yet, you think?”

“Diversions? Already?” Akira watches him for a moment longer before sighing. “Yeah, she was earlier. She started the lasagna before I left and that was...fuck, how long have I even been here?” He sniffs. “Probably looking for me,” he groans, collapsing to his back and sprawling over the cold glassy flooring. He stares up at the starlit dome. “I left my phone at home. I was just going to kidnap you and bring you there in no time. She gets irritated when I do this. And I keeeeeeeep fucking doing it.”

Akira hasn’t scooted away. Their legs are still pressed tightly together and Akira curls onto his side to huddle in closer to Akechi. He rests his hand on Akechi’s knee and stays close.

He doesn’t want to leave. He’s nervous now, like Akechi will dart away the first chance he gets.

“Why don’t you invite her over?” Akechi says. “I can order pizza tonight. We can hang out. Save lasagna for tomorrow night.”

“Yeah? You don’t mind?” Akira says, soft smile on his face. “That sounds nice.”

“I won’t mind as long as you don’t eat an entire two pizzas like that one time.”

Akira laughs. “You’ll never let me live that one down, will you? I was starving. And I paid you back immediately.”

“In Monopoly money. Monopoly money. And you weren’t starving, you were eating so many fucking snacks that day. Who the hell can eat two entire pizzas? It was insane. Where does it go?”

“Mmm,” Akira chuckles warmly. He sits up, leans in and wraps his arms around Akechi’s neck, burying his face against his throat again. His breath tickles his skin as he sinks all his weight into him. “Goro. I love you. So much. I really really love you.”

“I know,” Akechi whispers back, leaning his head over Akira’s shoulder.

“Say it back,” Akira whispers, gazing up into his eyes, searching them. “You never say it. It’s so lonely sometimes.”

He says carefully, gently, “...You know I do.”

Akira groans, but it’s enough for him and he doesn’t push. For now. “Mm. Fine. Love you,” he whispers, sounding so content here in his arms, so warm. He presses a kiss to Akechi’s cheek, chaste and quick. “Love you, love you, love you, love you. You’re my best friend. You’re everything to me.”

Akechi closes his eyes tightly and holds him back, his fingers digging in. He’s burning. All throughout his body, from the tips of his fingers, to his overheated brain and chaotic tumbling heart. He’s on fire, being eaten up alive by Akira. If he could press him down into the floor and sink into him, kiss the tears right off his cheeks and replace them with tears of pleasure... If only he could do that...the world might make sense.

Right now, he doesn’t know what to feel. And nothing makes sense.

Akechi doesn’t understand how Akira could possibly feel so much for him, so much love, so much need, so much fear and anxiety for him...but not love him. Not want him. Because the two are so tightly bound together for Akechi, twisted up into one breath, betrothed. So why does Akira only have one half of the piece?

It isn’t fair. Such a cruel fate to be loved so deeply, and yet, never feel wanted.

Akechi wants so badly to feel wanted...

Akira pulls away first, grinning wickedly, his eyes clear and shining after crying all that time. He brushes his hair out of his face. “How badly do you have to pee now?”

“Really fucking bad. You can cry for hours. I’ve never seen anyone so good at it.”

“Pfft,” Akira laughs, pinching Akechi on the thigh as he gets to his feet. “Menace. Making fun of me in my time of...well, I dunno, bonkers brain party.”

“Stop pinching me. I’ll eat pizza tonight and everything. You can watch.”

“Oooh. Kinky. Pizza ingesting.”

“Don’t make it weird. And there’s no way in hell I’m eating an entire pizza, like you.”

Akira pinches Akechi’s cheeks and quickly side-steps his swatting hand, chuckling away, like he wasn’t just sobbing his eyes out a second ago. He says easily, “I’ll go get Sumi. You go pee. Be right back.” He cups his hand over the top of Akechi’s head and then strides energetically out of the room. “Thank you, Goro! You’re the best, Goro!”

“Yes, yes, I know...” Akechi stays on the floor, staring at Akira’s retreating back. Deep longing floods him. Drags him down through the floor.

The railing is so close. He could drag himself over, push his way through...starbound... It’s the only thing he can think of that will stop this painful choking feeling around his neck always sitting in his chest.

God... He loves him. More than anything in the world. More than boundaries. More than his own sanity, apparently.

He loves Akira more than Akira’s own safety.

They go to the tropics. Akechi’s never been to the tropics before and Arsène claims to not have any preference on the matter (though Akechi did find his phone was left open on tabs involving palm trees and ocean front views that he does not recall opening himself which is suspicious). It’s supposed to be nice.

It is warm, he supposes. And he gets to wear shorts instead of pants and coats. And he can sit seaside, reclined and soaking up the sunlight, pleasant fizzy drinks in hand. He doesn’t have to worry about anything here, so that’s nice.

Over the weeks, Akechi has become tanner. He looks...warm and sun-kissed and healthy in a way cave dwelling doesn’t normally lend to. He’s got a red crisp to his cheeks that wasn’t there before or ever actually. People have been looking at him with desire, whispering to their friends behind their hands and giggling, interested.

But he’s still just...Akechi. There’s no relief in that. He doesn’t feel something shift beneath his feet, opening up possibilities and options and room to breathe. He’s not interested in any of those strangers. In fact, their interest only makes him sick.

There are no solutions over these horizons either. He still wants Akira. So badly. He wants to steal him away and lock him down in his sex dungeon where only he can have access. He wants Akira in a spot where Akechi can kneel before him and kiss his beautiful cock whenever he wants. And if Akira wants to be in that position instead, well, Akechi sure isn’t going to complain about that...

He’s not healed at all. But at least he’s far away, he supposes.

Akira’s still happy this way. He laughs a lot when they video chat. He’s gotten over...whatever that was in the observatory, it’s like it never happened at all. He’s so very good at smiling despite everything. So very beautiful when he does too.

“How are you doing?” Akechi asks as he takes his computer out on the balcony and twists his hair back over his shoulder. It’s light and breezy.

“Good,” Akira breathes as he holds his phone out in front of him. He’s on a run around the neighborhood without Akechi, which feels weird. They always do it together. He’s sweating a little as he casts his eyes about the road. “Holiday season is fucking insane for the life of a poor barista, but it brings in the money, that’s for sure.”

While sweat is disgusting on anyone else, Akechi thinks it makes Akira look like he’s glistening in god-like glory. He stares at him dumbly. “Do you need money? I left a card in the kitchen drawer by the fridge, it has unlimited access to my main checking account. The house will let you in —”

“Goro. Not again. You do this every year.” Akira rolls his eyes and gives a crooked grin to the screen. “I don’t need your unlimited funds, okay? I’m just trying to save up. You know how it is. Or...you don’t really, do you? It’s fine. I just have to watch what I’m spending, but it’s not like I’m lacking groceries or anything.”

“I know what it was like back then, Akira. We weren’t living off ramen and that disgusting fucking ketchup packet soup because we were bringing in the cash, that’s for fucking sure. Still can’t take the taste of either of them...”

“Hey. Ramen can be good. Add a little egg and some bamboo shoots and —”

“When the fuck could we afford eggs? And bamboo shoots?! Are you delusional? That was basically a fucking luxury item back then. God. It’s why I wish you’d let me help you out every once in a while. It stresses me out that you’re —”

“What? Not filthy rich like you,” Akira grins and laughs. He waves to someone and then crosses the road. “I’m not that bad off, Goro. Jesus. Did I tell you I got a gig at Jazz Jin? Yes, the Jazz Jin. Someone saw me performing at some other no-name night club and offered it to me on the spot. They say I have star quality,” he laughs brightly and uses a hand to frame his face. “Cool, right?”

“You what? Why didn’t you tell me sooner? Akira. Finally. All those years of you singing my ear off have paid off. Thank god I didn’t suffer all that time for nothing.”

He laughs again. “Right? They want me to dress all particular and shit so they gave me an advance. Little do they know, you bought me so many fancy suits over the years for your little rich people events, I already have a closet to choose from, so I don’t need to spend any of it. So I’m way better off than even last year. And last year was better than the previous year. And the previous year was — well, you get it. Not to mention Sumi. Everything’s awesome over here. No sweat.”

“Ugh. Just stresses me out... I wish you’d just take the card... The pin number is —”

“Yeah, yeah.”

“Two-three-eight-two-seven-seven-one,” Akechi says quickly into the camera.

“Uuugggh. Stop. Can’t hear you, can’t hear youuuu.”

The bathroom door opens and steam comes pouring out. Akechi waves his hand in his face, trying to bat it away.

“Is that Arsène? Heeeey, Arsène.”

“Hello, Master Akira,” he says, looking over Akechi’s shoulder, dark bangs still dripping. “I’m happy you called. Master has been complaining all day about how much he misses you. It’s beginning to become quite annoying, in all honesty.”

Akira cackles. “Aw, Goro, you have?”

“I did not say that,” Akechi says sharply to Arsène. “Knock it off. And I told you to drop the ‘master’ shit already. I’m tired of getting weird looks.”

“Oh my fucking god,” Akira guffaws brightly the same time Arsène’s smile grows with devilish flair. “They think you two are into BDSM. Together.”

“Shut up. But yeah, you can see it in their faces, that’s exactly where their depraved little minds shoot off to first.”

“Shoot off?”

“Shut up. You know what I mean! You and them and all your dirty disgusting little minds! I’m at my fucking limit. They keep asking us if we’re going anywhere else on our honeymoon. Do we look like a couple.”

Akira laughs away. “Oh my god. You do. You really do. Do you tell them you’re asexual? An asexual and a robot into BDSM. Master and slave. Oh, wow, now that’s a porno. Or so I hear, of course. Me? Personally? I wouldn’t know about that.”

“SHUT. UP. You are positively revolting.”

Arsène does no defending, he gives Akira a wry look before straightening and walking back inside.

“Hold on,” Akira says. He jogs to a stop, leans over and holds his side. “Fuck. Cramp. Ow.”

“You deserve that.” Akechi pauses and then asks dubiously, “You okay?”

“Super. Just...forgot how far I was running. You’re distracting. Ah, fuck, now I have to make it all the way back too.”

“You better not fucking pass out when I’m not around. Or I’ll fly right over there and fucking kill you.”

Akira laughs lowly, voice dragging and tired. “Never know. You might have to. Sumi doesn’t know our route either. I’ll perish. Be eaten by bears. Grisly fate. Oh my god, wait. Grizzly fate.”

“Brilliant joke. You are so brilliant, in fact, that you are in the middle of the forest and no one knows where you are. God. I’m going to go over there and kill you anyway, just because.”

Akira laughs.

“Idiot. You’re lucky Arsène likes you. He has access to the other robots I’ve made, you know. He’s the master copy, so he can control them from here. They can go pick up your sorry butt and bring you home and I don’t have to move a muscle.”

Akira brightens. “I like that idea. Hey, Arsène, be a bud, will you?”

“Fuck off. Arsène, don’t listen to him. You’re not passed out yet. You’ll never learn if we enable you like this. I daresay we’ve enabled you enough.”

Akira laughs. “‘Daresay’. You’re such a pretentious prick. Why are you saying ‘daresay’?”

“Fuck off. I read.”

“No, you don’t. Name the last book you read. Can’t be a manual.”

“I’m going to kill you.”

“Pfft. You already said that. Hey. Offtopic... Not trying to rush you or anything, but did you have thoughts about when you’re returning home?”

“Not really,” Akechi leans forward and grabs a fizzy drink to sip on for good measure. He flicks at the umbrella with his finger.

Akira shoots him an amused look. “It’s Christmas, you know? And Sumi’s dad is hosting this big Christmas Eve event. We’re all invited. Woohoo!”

Akechi says, dipping his head back as he swallows, “I’d rather die.”

“Well,” Akira pants. “The thing is, everyone in her family is going to be there. Like...everyone. And it’s a big deal and it’s super special and all that and I think it’s just time for them to meet my family, you know? And no pressure, but...I mean... You make up my entire family system. I take out the family tree and it’s...you and...you and...oh, look! You. And just... They’ve been asking and...please, Goro? Please come. As my plus one. You can fly back to your Bahamas or wherever you want afterward. I’ll cover your ticket.”

Akechi plucks a cherry out of his drink by the stem and pops it into his mouth, sucking on it. “Eh.”

Akira groans loudly. “I knew it. I knew you’d be difficult about this.”

Akechi gets up, leaving the computer’s webcam to fend for itself.

“Goro! Are you serious? Come on! They’re all rich and intimidating and you know how I flounder at those sorts of things. I feel like such an idiot around rich people. You’re so good at mixing in with them, it would put me at ease if you’d be there supporting me.”

“Oh, god, can he beg anymore?!” Akechi shouts from the kitchenette, mixing himself another drink. “Cherry or no cherry, do you think?”

“Cherry, of course. Are you listening? I really really was hoping we could have this conversation face-to-face, but I never manage to find the right time and I just... Ugh. I dunno. But Goro, listen a sec, I was thinking that, during the party —”

There’s a knock at the door and Akechi lifts his head. “Arsène, can you get that? Must be the room service.”

“Goro.”

“We ordered steak dinners. Fucking three-thousand dollars a piece. Can you believe that? Thousands, Akira. For one meal!”

Akira sighs. “Why are you talking in plurals? Did you order Arsène one too? He doesn’t even eat.”

“Really? I had no idea.” Akechi sits back on his recliner in front of the webcam, swirling his straw in the glass. “I didn’t want him feeling left out.”

Akira’s looking irritated, cheeks pink. “Goro, you’re not even listening to me.”

“Sorry.” He starts sucking on the next cherry again. “It’s because I don’t want to go to your party. I hate parties. You know I hate parties. I entertained your weird need to force me to go to events for social connections or whatever bullshit you thought I needed back in the day, but I’m fucking done with all that. I just want to be a weird recluse from now on. Let me be.”

“I know. But this is for me. This is a really important night for me.”

Akechi sniffs. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

Akira watches him for a long moment before he closes his eyes and rubs a palm over his sweaty forehead. “Forget it. I can see you’re in a mood.”

“You always say that.”

“Well, you’re always in a mood.”

“I hate parties.”

“I think you should go,” Arsène says evenly from behind him.

Akira gives a triumphant laugh. “Thank you, Arsène.”

Akechi tsks. Arsène and Akira are always ganging up on him... “You’ll have Yoshizawa. You won’t need me.”

“Why do you always say that? And can’t you please call her Sumi already? We’ve been dating for seven years already. Seven! At this point, you’re just being an asshole.”

“We’ve already established many times over that I am, indeed, an asshole.”

“Fine. You’ve officially upgraded. Mega asshole.”

“...Seven fucking years,” Akechi grouches as he kicks his feet up. “And you haven’t dumped her yet. I need another drink.” He gnaws at the stem in irritation, flicking his sunglasses over his eyes.

Akira heaves a huge sigh. “I’m not dumping her. Goro, you know how important she is to me. I wish you’d stop pretending about that. It really hurts her...and it hurts me too.”

Akechi sighs. He switches his drinks out with a flourish and begins twirling the little umbrella on this one as well. He looks over the steak dinner Arsène set up on the side table with a small frown on his brow. He’s no longer hungry.

“I just. The party. I just...” Akira groans. “All our friends will be there! They’ve already confirmed. And it’d be weird if you were the only one not there.”

“They’re your friends, not mine. And what happened to the ‘no pressure’ thing you started off on? That’s going down the drain fast.”

“I was obviously only saying it to sound nice and soften you up.” Akira moans and shakes his head as he looks out into his surroundings, out in the thick forests. “I didn’t want to have to do this...”

Akechi munches on another cherry with his sharp eye teeth. “Do what?”

“I’ve been holding onto my trump card for a long time. But you’re forcing my hand... This is a dark day, indeed.” Akira reaches into his pocket and takes out his wallet, slipping out a card. It’s poorly cut out, a weird failed attempt at a rectangle by a kid who didn’t quite know how to use scissors yet. The crayon scribble all over the thing is telling. Someone tried to get artsy.

Akechi frowns and leans into the screen. “What is that?”

“Been saving it for over two decades now. This thing is worth some serious coin.” Akira grins. He shows it off in front of the camera. “One do whatever you tell me to card.” He flips it and stabs at the signature on the back. “Signed by the Goro Akechi.”

Akechi sputters. “D-Did you seriously bring that card with you in your running shorts? How long have you been carrying that around with you?”

Akira laughs. “I’ve been carrying it around in my wallet since the beginning of time. I dunno. Decades? You gave me a little booklet of them when we were like...five. Look, you barely knew how to spell.” His laughter booms. “So cute. You were so eager to please back then. Never did cash in on the one free massage one. Maybe after the party...”

“You —!”

Akira smiles into the camera, bright and hopeful and heartbreakingly, devastatingly Akechi’s Akira. Akechi can’t stand it. “I’m cashing it in, Goro! Is your word not your bond? Your signature’s right here, you know. It was my birthday, Goro, that’s sacred gift giving time. Are you really going to take my gift away from me?”

Akechi groans and lets his head fall to the back of his recliner. “You’re a demon.”

“So.” Akira says eagerly. “Will you come then?”

“You’ve killed me,” Akechi murmurs, closing his eyes down and sinking into his recliner.

“He’ll come,” Arsène says easily from behind.

“He will?”

Arsène nods. “I’ll make sure he’ll get back home in time enough to enjoy every last moment of the party with you.”

Akechi groans, mortally wounded. Murdered by his only allies.

“Thank you, Arsène!” Akira breathes with delight. “You’re the best. The absolute best. You can come too, if you’d like. I’ll just say you’re my cousin. They won’t know.”

Akechi groans, tossing his arm over his face. “I have nothing to wear. I can’t go! I’m hideous!”

“Ordered and on its way,” Arsène says. “Your outfit will arrive in three hours, delivered to this very door.”

“WHAT? AGH. Damn you. Both of you! I hate you all. Coerced. Forced against my will. Betrayed by my childhood self. If only I’d known, I would’ve never handed you such power.”

“Thank you, Goro,” Akira sings. “Best crayon-made birthday present everrrrr. Love you, love you, love you.”

“I’m not going to survive. I hope you know that. With this, you’ve sealed my fate. I hope you like me dead.”

“Don’t even joke, you big baby, that’s completely unfunny,” Akira’s pulled into his driveway. Akechi can tell from the trees in the background. “Okay. I’m home. God, my legs hurt.” Akira opens the front door to his house and yells out, “I’M HOME.”

“Hiiii,” Yoshizawa says in the background. “Just got back myself. You made dinner already? You’re so sweet. Tonight was my night.”

“It’s no problem. Had some extra time, so thought I’d do it. Hold on a sec, I’m on the phone with Goro and then we can eat. Goro. I’ve been wanting to have that chat with you. What about tomorrow?”

“Must be so important since we wasted so much time talking about absolutely nothing today,” Akechi drawls, chewing angrily on his straw. It squeaks in agony.

“Yeah, but I was running and couldn’t concentrate. Tomorrow?”

“I’m going to an opera tomorrow night. Non-refundable, I’m afraid.”

Akira sighs with as much drama as his entire being can muster. “Afternoon?”

“Arsène and I will be scuba diving in the coral reef.”

“Hey. Can you find me a conch shell? I think that’d be super cool. Or a sand dollar or something. Something ocean-y. I’m not picky. I just like when people bring me souvenirs from their trips.”

“Yep. I already have a bag full of shit I got for you. I can add a shell or two.”

“Cool. Morning.”

“We’ll see, but I was planning on going sailing, so I’m doubtful.”

“God, your life... Well. I guess at least you’re coming to the party. A win’s a win.”

“For you, at least, but I’m already regretting it.”

Akira gives a soft laugh. He’s in the kitchen. The light is warm and golden and he leans over, half out of the video frame, to kiss a certain someone on the cheek. “Hey,” he whispers softly to her before returning his tone to normal. “Thanks, Goro. I’m going to go eat now. Don’t forget to eat too. The cherries don’t count as real food. You need protein. Protein.”

Akechi gnaws down extra hard on the stem, baring his teeth to the camera.

Akira rolls his eyes and flicks at the screen. “Don’t waste that thousand dollars and go eat your steak. Love yooou. Tell me you love me back.”

“Stop harassing me. I’ll do as I please. See you, oh annoying one.”

“Byeeeee. Love, love, love. Kiss, kiss, kiss. Love you, love you, love yoooouuuuu!!”

“Oh my god.” Akechi slams the lid shut and then tosses himself back in his seat, closing his eyes down, exhausted. “Sabotage,” he murmurs, knowing Arsène can hear from inside.

“As if you weren’t going to cave eventually, I was just saving us both the time.”

“Ha!”

“He was nervous to ask you. Did you notice? He was rambling.”

“Now you’re making stuff up.” Akechi shrugs, lifting his glasses again so he can clearly see the blue of the sky. “Akira’s so used to always getting what he wants from me, it stresses him out to even think a ‘no’ may be on the horizon. It’s my fault; I spoiled him too much when we were kids. I was worried he was always one step from falling apart and he always was. Now, he thinks I’ll always cave. And I always fucking do.”

“I know it means a great deal to him,” Arsène says softly.

“Yes,” he sighs. But the cost.

He wanted to stay away. As away as he possibly could. Maybe then, it’d save Akira. Maybe it’d save Akechi too.

But they orbit each other, they always have. There’s no running away from it. And he’s missed him so much... He’s been thinking of returning home this entire past week, why else would he schedule so much these coming days to distract himself? But what will he do if he returns home? The dungeon awaits him...dark and quiet and cold and just what he likes...

Nothing was going to change Akechi’s mind anyway. If thirty years couldn’t do it, what would a few miles in between them do? He dreams about fucking Akira every single fucking night. He’s back in the sex dungeon, locking him up tight... Taking him upside down, sideways, from behind...from the front... He wakes in cold sweat and a desire so severe he’s sick with it.

It was inevitable that Akechi return home, but he had hoped anyway.

But what good has hope ever done him?

Akechi and Arsène walk through the beach front paths, flip flops full of sand. They have a bit until the opera and they went sailing for more than enough. Now, Akechi’s just grumpy.

This is the thing he hates about beaches: he hasn’t even stepped into sand and already he’s got it stuck to him. There’s no shade around here and the sun easily penetrates his sunhat. It’s no way to live. At least, at home, whenever Akira drags him out of his sanctuary, there are trees to hide under, there’s shadow and darkness to rest in. The sun just barbeques him with no reprieve.

Why people like the beach is beyond Akechi, he just wants to go home, but he’s been handed a mission and he isn’t one to fail. The vendors to both his left and right are selling souvenirs, but the quality is blatantly poor and absolutely nothing is suitable to be a gift for Akira. He deserves something unique, special. They’re going to be here forever.

Arsène is not bothered by the heat or the sand or even Akechi’s prickly grumblings about the shit they all sell around here. “He’d like anything you get him, you know.”

He sighs. “I know.” It’s hardly the point.

“As long as it’s from you, he’d cherish it. Even a lucky penny off the ground. We’re passing one just now.”

“I know,” he grinds his teeth and gives the penny a violent kick. It tinkles into the sand, away and gone. “I just...I’ll know it when I see it.”

“It’s been days, sir. You may be overthinking this.”

Akechi grits his teeth down harder to prevent himself from saying something inappropriate and unnecessary.

Arsène pushes his sunglasses over his hair and gazes appreciatively out at the ocean. “At this rate, I imagine it’d be easier searching in the ocean itself. That’s what we’re here for, isn’t it? New mind-opening experiences? Perhaps it’ll help cool you down, your stress indicators have risen yet again.”

Akechi groans, too overheated and unhappy to reply. Fuck this place.

“Ah...and higher they go. Perhaps not then. How about you take a seat at one of these tables? I’ll search for a passable trinket for Master Akira.”

Someone tosses a curious look their way. “Please stop saying Master.”

It isn’t a no. Arsène gives a small smile. He bows his head slightly before turning and heading seaward.

Akechi takes off his sun hat and begins fanning his face with it, but even that feels like too much effort. He wants to sink into the table’s seating but, when he approaches, he can see it’s covered in bird shit and old sticky ice cream, and, honestly, he’d rather just perish.

Couples. There are couples everywhere, hanging on each other’s arms, lying beneath their umbrellas in the sand together. Married, with children. Pushing strollers with their little precious babies inside. Elderly lovers enjoying the seaside breeze together. Leaning on each other, as they have all their lucky lives. Content. Warm. Fulfilled. Happy.

What must that be like?

Families. Friends. All people who managed to fit in and do...whatever it is they did, something beyond Akechi’s knowhow. They’re all gathered here. Akechi is the only one out of place.

It’s hell. Akechi’s own personal hell. Arsène is fine, Arsène is great, but he isn’t Akira and wouldn’t it be so nice if Akira had come with them...? To hear his warm laughter in his ear, to be a sturdy, secure presence at Akechi’s back, bumping into him and telling his jokes and lighting up the place just the right amount. Wherever you go, I go. If you need a vacation, we both will have a vacation.

As it is, Akechi is an unanchored ship drifting away from the shoreline. Without Akira to bring him home, he is so lost, does it matter where he floats off too? Maybe he should just walk straight into the ocean and never turn back. Float weightless and free for once, until he’s far far away. He’ll sink sooner than later, into the quiet depths. Akira wouldn’t even have to figure out a burial for him if his body is eaten up by sharks. That’s a good thing. All those pesky details to figure out afterward, all figured out. Basically a kindness.

Akechi stares blankly over the horizon, where the ocean meets the deep blue sky, and he’s not seeing any of that fabled beauty he’s heard so much about. Instead, he thinks of the salty water filling his mouth, stuffing up his lungs, weighing him down into the darkness below. The ocean is a terrifyingly tempting place for reasons he fears only he can see. No one else seems to see the same thing he does.

Too late, he notices Arsène turned on the shoreline. He’s staring straight at Akechi, eyes steady. Noticing Akechi, always monitoring, always knowing. He looks seconds from following Akechi back in. Nervousness on a robot is an odd thing, but it’s clear in the way he holds his arms close to his chest that what he’s experiencing is worry.

Akechi shifts uncomfortably and looks away from the shoreline. This place is squished between desperate vendors and a fancy rich person outdoor mall. There isn’t much to do at a beach but lounge and he isn’t in the mood anymore, his poor skin has been burnt enough this trip. He escapes Arsène’s gaze along the glass windows of the shopping mall.

He stops in front of an expensive jewelry shop.

Akira would absolutely hate it if Akechi got him anything expensive. He’d blast right past this place if he were here. But...lain carefully over a velvet display rests a delicate gleaming bracelet. It catches Akechi’s attention immediately and hooks it.

At its center, enclosed in soft gold, is a tiny moon pendant. Though it’s day, there’s a glow that radiates from within, special and constant, like something straight out of a fantasy novel. Akechi’s mother used to wear an anklet very similar to this. It was one of the things he still wishes he had but got lost in the aftermath of her death. Like a lot of things in his life that he thought they’d never be getting back in any shape or form.

Akechi wants it. He must have it.

Without even looking away from the piece, he tosses the door open and makes his way into the shop. “I’d like this bracelet in the window, please. Wrapped in your finest box.”

The man gives a long low whistle and smiles. “The anklet, you mean? With the moon?”

Akechi pauses. It’s like fate, isn’t it? “...Even better. Yes, that one.”

The man gives a sympathetic smile. “Good eye, but that isn’t for sale, I’m afraid. It’s a museum piece. We only have it on display because we’re trying to figure out how to safely transport it to its next destination. That’s bullet proof glass and the safest place we’ve got around here. Have you ever heard of the legend of the moon prince? That’s where this very anklet came from. In the 1600’s there was a fair prince. As tale has it, his lover had this made by nymphs in the forest, imbued with the light from the moon. That eternal glow represents her pure love for him, never fading, never ending. For as long as the moon shall hang in the sky, so shall her love be undying. She gave it to her prince to declare her feelings and, though she died young while birthing their child, the prince wore it every day of his life. The moon prince lived to be one hundred and twenty years old and he attributed it to her everlasting protection, sewn into this exquisite piece. It’s been passed down through their family since, giving each owner long and happy lives, until the last of their line died out, peacefully, naturally. One side is the moon, see? But, if you turn it, the other side is the sun. His lover thought of him as heat, as flame. They completed each other. And so does this piece.

“The jewel itself is the finest stone in all the land. You can’t find another one like it on this continent or any other. The cost is more than this entire shop with everything inside combined. Possibly this entire region.”

Akechi stares through the glass at the anklet. “How much.”

“I... You must’ve not heard me. My apologies, it is quite the beauty, I know, but the king himself would not be able to afford it.”

Akechi turns, scowling sharply at the man. He’s about to let loose — fuck this guy — but, just in time, Arsène strides into the place, his hands full with two bags of perfect sand dollars and colorful conch shells. A trail of sand follows him into the store, sparkling in the sunlight over the plush red carpet.

Arsène smiles pleasantly at the look the jeweler gives him, water dripping from the bag onto the floor as he shifts it into one hand and takes out a gold card from his back pocket. “Here we are. The anklet, if you will,” he says.

The man hesitates. “Sir. As I was explaining to your...partner? You will not be able to charge this to a simple credit card. The king himself would not be able to —”

“But my master is not the king,” Arsène says merrily. “And he is anything but simple. Please do charge it. You’ll find it’ll go through just fine.” He turns to inspect the anklet, fingertips delicately touching his chin in thought. “What an excellent choice, Master. It’s older than the 1600’s though.”

“Is it? Did you hear the story?”

“Yes. It’s partly true. The prince’s lover did have this made for him, but the moon pendant dates back even further. It was said on one stormy night, the dark clouds parted and a beam of sunlight shot through. This tiny gem toppled out of the sky, sparkling on its way down as it fell into the River of Eternal Youth. People came from all over the world in search of it. Took nearly a century before it was uncovered. Invaluable.”

“So many stories...” Akechi yawns.

“Stories are the flame of humanity’s hearts, Master. Without them, how would people relate? How would they share? You’re human too. So is Master Akira.”

“I suppose you’re right. It reminds me of my mother’s... She used to wear it every day, she never took it off. We tore the house apart looking for it before we had to leave, but I wonder if they took it with her body,” Akechi hums. “For all we know, they burned it with her. Akira was so upset we couldn’t find it. He cried for hours. Though I suppose the loss of my mother hit him hard at the time...” He sighs softly. “This anklet is even more beautiful.”

“Yes. I think it’s perfect, Master.”

“Thank you for the shells,” Akechi says, reaching out and grabbing the bags from Arsène. He inspects them. “You did well. They’re just what I was looking for.”

“I partook in a bit of swimming. That’s all it took.”

Akechi snorts, looking up from beneath his lashes at the way Arsène’s curls look thicker and fuller. Salt water for you. “Well, thank you. Akira will appreciate them. Perhaps we need to get an aquarium for him because I do believe these are still alive. I guess you can’t get better and fresher than living. And, by the way, what did I say about calling me ‘Master’?”

“My apologies. Master.”

Akechi gives him a look.

Arsène smiles back gently.

The jeweler approaches, looking perplexed between the two of them. Definitely thinks it’s some BDSM thing. “It...went through,” he says, mystified. He assesses Akechi with wide eyes. “Who are you?”

Akechi snatches the card right out of his lax hand. “Your finest box, like I said.”

Like a child spoiled on his birthday, Akechi holds the box himself, smiling all the way home. Though it is ungodly bright, the heat from the sun somehow seems to have waned and the sand on Akechi’s feet tickles in an invigorating, pleasant sort of way.

He feels good about his gift in a way he doesn’t usually. Maybe this gift can make up for what Akechi did to him, even if he and Arsène are the only ones who remember. There’s that guilt, as always, and wouldn’t it be nice to not have to feel it anymore? This anklet has meaning, it has worth, it has a story.

But it’s Akira, so Akechi is nervous and unsure as he stares at it. Why it makes him feel like a little kid again, he isn’t sure. It isn’t often he finds something he actually wants to give Akira that doesn’t feel like a necessity. This is a gift. A vulnerability, something that clearly says from Akechi to Akira, I hope you like it. Do you? Did I please you? What if he rejects him all over again?

The cost is a concern. Just a little cheap trinket, he’ll say, but it certainly doesn’t look cheap. Maybe Akira won’t question it. But will he cherish it anyway because it’s from Akechi? Like a lucky penny picked up from the ground.

“Do you think he’ll like it, Arsène?” Akechi murmurs, his fingers awkward as he cradles it as gently as he possibly can. Starlight and sunlight, mixed into one.

Arsène smiles with warm fondness. “I do, indeed, Master. I do, indeed.”

Akechi doesn’t want to be here.

Arsène dumped him off at Akira’s doorstep like a mom dragging their kid to a birthday party they really didn’t want to go to. And now he stands in front of the door dressed in stupid party clothes and a scowl, holding a present in his breast pocket that he’s too embarrassed to give.

Such is adulthood.

Everyone’s already here. It’s tragic.

“Oh, Goro,” Makoto, in a gown, glitter, and fancy elegant jewelry, wraps her arms around Akechi, properly smothering him. The jewelry jabs into him and it is painful and she does not seem to care. “Happy Holidays!! Oh, you look amazing. Look at you! You’re like a movie star.”

“Ha.” Arsène dressed him. He put absolutely zero thought into it.

He lets himself be jostled around as Akira’s next friend from high school handles him over to her.

“Oh my god!! Look how gorgeous you’ve gotten! You’ve finally grown out of your awkward teen years, haven’t you?”

He cringes. “Hey.”

“I’m just joking, like you’ve ever had an awkward day in your life. Come model with me already, idiot!” Ann screams in his ear. “Then we can see each other each and every day! We can work together. It’d be so fun!”

“So enticing. How could I possibly resist.”

“Perhaps he’d like to be my model instead.” Yusuke kneels and frames the scene with both hands, envisioning his next painting. He’s talented, Akira took art classes with him so Akechi had to see his work, but fuck is he weird. “The grandeur, the pure beauty, Goro Akechi, you’ve grown since last we met.”

“Right.” He turns to look over his shoulder. “Where’s Akira?”

“Such an exciting night, isn’t it?” Yusuke smiles serenely into his hand. “Apparently you aren’t the only one who’s grown since we were last together. You must be so proud of him.”

“Sure. Why?”

“Have you seen it yet?” Ann leans in, shaking him by the shoulders.

“Seen what?”

“HEY GUYS. HAPPY HOLIDAYS!!” Akira comes out through the front door, Yoshizawa in tow. Akira twirls and strikes a pose. “BOOM. NEW OUTFIT. HOW DO WE LOOK?”

Akechi freezes.

Fuck.

Oh, fuck.

Maybe it’s been a while — too long, apparently — but Akira must have grown and he looks devastating.

Red velvet suit. Black wide notched lapels. Oh, god. He’s so fucking handsome Akechi has to clutch his fist tightly into the cummerbund around his waist, gripping on for mercy. It’s perfect. The little golden chain Akechi got for him is going to match with the outfit just right. A wave of red hot desire razes through his core at the thought -- gold beneath Akira’s clothes, pressed to the warm heat of his naked body. Akechi fights the image so hard, he gets an instant migraine.

“You GUYS,” Ann gasps, heaving herself off Akechi and flying at them. “Oh, my god. I’m going to faint. Who are you?! You’re both gorgeous.”

Yoshizawa smiles shyly; she’s always been very aware she’s the only one not part of their original friend group in school. Her voice is quiet amongst the casual excitement of the others, but still, she tries. “Hi, everyone!”

“Hey, Sumi! Akira!” Ann wrestles Akira away from Yoshizawa, snatching him up into a playful headlock as Haru approaches and engages Yoshizawa in a conversation. “Ooohh, Sumi’s a lucky lucky girl. I can’t believe it. Today’s the day! I’m so excited for you.”

“Shhh,” Akira laughs, wrapping his arms around her back and holding her close. He leans his cheek over her head and hums happily. “You don’t think the red’s too much?”

“God, no,” she says, looking down at it all in wonder. “Akira, you look amazing. You even did your hair, I’m in love.”

His hair is artfully tousled. He laughs, free and bright. “You guys are the best. I’m so nervous. They’re so — Oh.” Akira’s gaze falls on Akechi.

Everything seems to stop for him. His eyes go wide. His breath gets caught in his throat. And he’s suddenly fifteen years younger.

Akechi blinks, a bit taken aback by the reaction. Everyone turns to him, watching. “Um. Hi?”

“Goro...” Immediately, Akira races over. He gathers him up in his arms and twirls him, laughing merrily away.

“HEY. Let go of me!”

“You’re home,” he breathes in his ear. “You came. You actually came.”

“What the hell? I said I would.”

Akira’s grinning like a fool as he leans back. “Arsène said you would. And then I kinda twisted your arm about it and we both know how you react when you’re told what to do. You’ve been so adamant about your ‘sacred vacation time’, and wanting to get out and all that and I thought — But you’re here! God, you look so good! I haven’t seen you in ages. Have you grown taller? Is that...a bit of a tan going on there?”

“I told you I was tanning.”

“But you don’t tan! Standard Goro fact!”

“Fuck off,” he laughs, scratching at his nose. “Don’t worry, Arsène’s already given me the whole skin cancer lecture thanks to you. He’s a fucking health nut now. I can’t get him to stop talking my ear off about my mortality. I thought I’d programmed it out of him, but no. He’s beyond my control apparently.”

Akira cracks up. “Looks like life is treating you well though. It’s the dead of winter and you’re donning a tan. You and your usually pasty ghostly butt, it’s got to be a miracle.” He grabs Akechi’s arm and rotates it back and forth, trying to push up the sleeve to see more skin. “You’re golden. Wow! I didn’t know you could get golden! I couldn’t tell at all through video chat! Whoa! And your hair is lighter too! Don’t look at me like that, I swear it is! Streaks of gold... I can’t stop looking at you. You’re like some Greek god now or something. Goro.”

Akechi daintily takes his arm back. He was hoping to quickly sneak Akira his gift before they even began the day, but it seems it isn’t going to happen. He feels like everyone’s eyes are on them and he doesn’t like it one bit. Akira geeking out over him in private is one thing, but in front of everyone and Yoshizawa is another. He says brightly, “I burn far more than I tan, but...thank you. Are we driving over there then? If you’re so worried about impressing your girlfriend’s family, arriving late would be a terrible start.”

Akira claps a hand over his head and looks around at everyone watching with varying levels of resigned amusement. He laughs, overwhelmed. “Oof. Yeah. Totally forgot where we were. Sorry, guys. Let’s head out then. I call dibs on Goro though,” Akira says, wrapping both arms around his neck and clinging like a little monkey. “Mine, mine, mine. I don’t care which car I’m in.” He crawls onto his back, wrapping his gangly legs around Akechi’s waist.

“You oaf! You’re not five anymore, you’re fucking huge! You’re going to ruin my suit and this shit was expensive!”

“I missed you,” Akira breathes into his cheek. “Missed you. Missed you, missed you. I’m so happy you’re back. Please don’t leave me ever again. I hated it. I hated looking at that empty house.”

Akechi lets him stay.

They’re all traveling together, but there isn’t enough space in one car for all of them, so they split into two different groups. There isn’t actually enough space that way either, so some of them have to share seats.

Akechi thought this would be a time for peace and meditation before the party, but Akira literally sits on his lap and talks his ear off, asking ten thousand questions he already knows the answers to since he’s already asked them all through their daily video chats he insisted on. Or he’s rambling about stories that happened to him while Akechi was gone. The ‘bad luck’ era, he’s calling it, though that seems to be a bit of an exaggeration. Akechi’s already heard all these stories too, but Akira’s so happy that they’re together again that he doesn’t seem to remember what he has or hasn’t already shared. And that’s sort of sweet.

Also, perhaps more immediate, Akechi is sending all his concentration to his erection, which he is fighting a losing battle with. Akira keeps bouncing on him. The shocks on Ryuji’s piece of shit vehicle are nothing like the ones Akechi’s car has. He knew he should’ve offered his up; this is ridiculous and humiliating.

It brings him back, being here together with everyone again. Just like old times, back when he was hiding his mega crush from Akira. Thinking he was doing a good job. Shoved into tight cars with him. On him. Seatbelted together. Best friends only. That’s all.

Akira has to feel him, right? He’s sitting right on his very pointy lap.

Akechi bites his lip hard, battling a lewd frustrated moan. It’s too late to wish it’d calm down already, he’s far past that. He just wants to ram — in —

“God, I’m nervous,” Akira murmurs into Akechi’s ear, leaning a casual elbow on his shoulder. He’s looking out the front windshield, watching Yoshizawa’s car ahead of them. She’s driving the others in it. She makes a right turn into a more rural looking neighborhood where the houses are huge and no longer houses. Mansions, more like.

“Haven’t you met her dad before?”

“Yeah. A few times,” Akira mutters into his fingers. “He’s very strict. He’s not thrilled about my lack of parents or prospects. I think the only reason he’s tentatively accepted me is because I might’ve name dropped you. Once. Or twice. Or every single time I’ve talked to him because it’s the only thing he approves of about me.”

His heart sinks at that a little. “Ah. So that’s why you needed me here.”

Akira snorts. “No. Are you crazy? That’s not the reason, I wanted you here, whether you’re Goro Akechi billionaire extraordinaire or Goro Akechi weird kid I grew up with who used to sit on the bathroom counter to talk on the phone, feet in the sink, tugging nervously at his toes.”

“I —! Do you mind? I needed privacy to think and it was the only other room we had. You always stared at me with those big eyes of yours and I lost my train of thought. I can’t think straight when you’re looking at me.”

Akira laughs. “And you had a weird thing for the bathroom.”

“Did not.”

He winks at him. “But anyway, it certainly can’t hurt, you being here. Sumi’s sister’s going to be there, did I tell you that? Kasumi, the asexual one.”

“Ah, yes, that’s exactly how I introduce my friends to people. Akira, the heterosexual one.”

“Shh,” he chuckles, clapping a hand over Akechi’s mouth. “She’s come home for the holidays. She was an Olympian a few years back. Won a bunch of medals for our country, did you know that? Pretty fucking cool.”

Akechi bites at his hand until he lets go. “You’ve mentioned it once or twice or three hundred fucking times.”

“She’s really nice. The only normal one in that family besides Sumi. I think you’d actually like her.”

“Hm.”

“She says she wants to meet you.”

Akechi looks over at the tone, but Akira’s back to biting at the corner of his nails.

“Shit. We’re here,” he groans, collapsing his face into Akechi’s suit. “Hide me.”

Akechi rolls his eyes but gives him a few encouraging pats. “You’ll be fine. You always land on your feet. And, if not, we’ll all have an amusing story to tell a few years down the line. Just as good.”

“Asshole,” Akira chuckles before pulling himself up. “Ugh. God. I’m sweating.”

“Too much information.”

“Do I smell? Smell me.”

“Oh, my god. No. No. Get your armpits out of my face. You’re disgusting! You smell fine. God.”

Akira laughs as crawls all over Akechi. “‘Fine’ or fine? Because they can mean two very different things.”

“Boys,” Makoto sighs from the front. “No roughhousing. There’s not enough room in the car for that.”

“Sorry, Makoto! Goro made me do it.”

“Stop fidgeting already! You’re bony as fuck.”

“I’m nervous! Can’t help it. Do I smell? Tell me if I smell!”

“You totally do!” Futaba shouts from the front.

“You smell good, you always do. You are magnificence itself,” Akechi sighs as he tries to handle Akira back down. He grabs him by the shoulders and shoves him up against the back of the front seat firmly, gazing meaningfully into his eyes. “Listen to me. I don’t understand where this insecurity is coming from. You have nothing to worry about and you never have. I mean it. You’re Akira Kurusu, the best man I’ve ever met. And I just traveled halfway across the world, I’m cultured now!” Akira laughs at that and Akechi softens. “They’d be fools not to love you. If they don’t, then fuck them, honestly. I have no patience for people with no taste and neither should you. You’re my favorite person, and that means something. They’re going to love you or else.”

“Yeah?” Akira says in a small voice, smiling back at him, doofy and just like his younger self. “...Thank you, Goro. I feel better.”

“Hm.”

The car comes to a halt in front of a large mansion and Akira turns on Akechi’s lap and pushes his way out of the car. “FREEDOM.” He slaps Akechi on the thigh, grinning wickedly. “Can you feel that or are you totally numb?”

Akechi shifts and kicks at Akira in an attempt to hide just how much Akira’s touch affects him and where. “Stop slapping me. You have absolutely zero sense of personal space.”

Akira chuckles evilly. “I do, it’s just you’re Goro. Your space is my space. I’ve claimed it, it’s all mine and —” He’s cut off from saying more when he’s turned around by Yoshizawa. “Oh!”

It’s the first time Akechi’s actually looked at her all night. She’s dressed in light whimsical chiffon with her hair pinned up in delicate butterfly clips. What falls from the pins cascades like a waterfall down the side of her dainty shoulder. She’s color coordinated with Akira. And she looks absolutely magical.

“Hi, Akechi!” She says brightly before standing on her tiptoes to kiss Akira on the corner of his mouth. “Hey, you. Someone looks happy his best friend’s back. You’re glowing!”

Akechi looks away, gazing up at the castle. Of course she’d come from a fairytale. Of course she would. The opposite of where they came from: the fucking stench-ridden gutter.

“Hey,” Akira breathes, scooping her up into his arms. “Yeah! Can you believe it? We’re here. Excited to see everyone?”

“Yes!” She looks over his shoulder at Akechi. “Thank you so much for coming, Akechi! You look amazing!”

He gives her a cool side glance. “Almost as good as you.”

Akira snorts, disengaging from her hold and lacing their hands together. He reaches out for Akechi with his other hand and pulls him forward by the arm. “Okay, okay, play nice.”

“I was being nice.”

“Somehow, when you say it, it sounds like a threat.”

“I wasn’t bothered by it,” Yoshizawa says, eyes wide and accommodating. “Please don’t worry about me. It was very sweet! Honest!”

Akira snorts again. “Anyway. I’m trying to get her family to like me and I know how you can be, Goro, so please. Please, be nice to them. Even if they suck.”

“M-my family doesn’t suck —” Yoshizawa says quickly.

“Oh. Oh, I know. No, I just meant, you know, from Goro’s perspective.”

“Ohhhhh, right. He thinks everyone sucks.”

“Yeah.”

Akechi rolls his eyes. “I can behave myself, you know. I’m not a wild animal. Yoshizawa’s family will be safe from me.”

Akira gives him a look. “And please call her Sumi. It’s time.”

“Yes, please,” Yoshizawa says brightly. “Only if I get to call you Goro!”

Akechi grinds his teeth together until the pressure bulges from his temples. That is literally the last thing he wants. But Akira’s eyes are sparkling hopefully as he holds his breath. “...Fine. Sumi.” It burns his mouth. He swears he feels foam.

“Goro!” She cheers.

“Woo!” Akira crows happily into the air, dragging both of their arms into the air with his. “It finally happened! At long last! Only took seven years!”

“Seven’s a lucky number!” Yoshizawa bounces. “This is proof!”

Fuck. It’s upsetting. Akechi can’t keep up with them, it’s such a little thing, but it makes him feel sick, he can’t explain why. It feels like he’s given up something critical.

He tugs his arm back and turns his face so he can’t see Akira’s reaction. “Right, well, I’m going to go catch up with Makoto,” Akechi grunts, whirling on his heel and making a quick escape.

“Hey!” Akira reaches out for his arm but misses. “Goro, come back though, okay? I have something I want to tell you. Before dinner. I’m serious.”

Akechi scrunches his face up. “You want to have our chat here? My vacation’s over, you know. We can chat any time after this.”

“Tonight, Goro. Don’t forget. Promise me, okay?”

“Yes, yes. I’ll be there. Unless you ditch me.”

“I’m not going to ditch you. Come find me.”

As they enter the bright golden light of Yoshizawa’s family’s mansion, Akechi hides beside Makoto, feeling dark and tired already. It’s ridiculously gorgeous in here. It even smells rich and that’s really the only thing Akechi usually has an edge over.

Makoto takes pity on him and laces her arm through his, drawing him through. “I thought you liked these sorts of things,” she says. “I was following all the articles on you a few years back. You looked like you were having the time of your life with Akira.”

“Any imbecile can smile for a camera. I only went to those fucking things because Akira thought they were good for me. For social status or some bullshit. He was always forcing me to go.”

“Ah,” she says in dry amusement. “Story of your life. Looks like nothing’s changed.”

“Tell me about it. I don’t know why I let him get away with it. Every single fucking time.”

She huffs out a breath of amusement and looks across the large grand room where Akira and Yoshizawa chat with some of her family. He has his arm around the small of her back, the perfect gentleman. He looks normal like that, like some other Akira, not Akechi’s. This is a man Akechi doesn’t know. Akira and Yoshizawa look every bit the pretty picture of in love. Akechi bites at his nail in irritation. He can’t believe they chose matching outfits. Matching outfits! Who does that? It makes him feel insane.

“How has that been for you, anyway?”

He looks over at Makoto to find her watching him through that intense analytical gaze of hers. He frowns beneath the unwelcome scrutiny. “How has what been?”

“Him. And Sumi.” She nods her head toward them as they laugh into each other. Akira leans his face into her hair and grins into it, perfectly at ease, perfectly content. Fulfilled.

Akechi isn’t sure if he ever feels like that anymore. He’s sure he did once.

Makoto makes a small noise in her throat and takes a couple glasses of champagne from a server that passes by. She hands one over to Akechi. “Here. You need this.”

He looks over. “I do?”

“Honestly, I’m surprised you came tonight. Not sure if I’d categorize that one as brave or...well. I know you like to be there for him, but I don’t know. I think we’d all be a little relieved if you put your foot down every once in a while. I know it’s difficult for you.”

“Against Akira?”

“Of course Akira.” She looks over him as she takes a sip. “Sometimes I don’t think he realizes how much he’s taking from you when he asks. Or maybe he does and does it anyway. I’m not sure which is worse though.”

His frown grows deeper. “What do you mean? Say it plainly.”

She purses her lips together tightly before shifting uneasily to stare at Akechi straight on. “Alright. Look. I think he’s unfairly dependent on you.”

He blinks. “Akira? No, he’s...I mean, he has his moments, sure, but that’s to be expected. You know how we grew up. If anyone has a problem, it’s me. He’d be fine without me around. Look at him. He was so nervous before this, but he...he makes it look easy, being here. I have no hand in that.”

Makoto purses her lips even tighter, giving her head a slow shake as she narrows her eyes. She heaves a sigh. “You’ve always seen him a certain way. If you want my honest opinion, I think your perspective is a little skewed. Even in high school, Akira was always pretty possessive.” Akechi opens his mouth to protest, but she cuts him off, gesturing her finger between him and her. “Do you ever notice how you have no other friends outside of his own friend group? Do you think it’s an accident?”

He looks away, perplexed and a little offended. Makoto’s always been a little too direct, so he takes a deep breath. Counts slowly to three. “...I...don’t know what you mean. I’m shit at making friends, you know that, and Akira was a fucking saint who let me in on his own hard work.”

“No. Look, I’m happy you joined our group, don’t get me wrong. We all really like you, but that isn’t the point. Maybe he doesn’t realize it and apparently neither have you. I know you love each other, but I just... From my outsider’s opinion, it looks suffocating, what the two of you have. I don’t think it’s really healthy anymore. He knows he’s hurting you, but I think he’s too afraid of losing you to stop. It isn’t fair what he’s doing to you. You deserve better. You know I always love seeing you, but I just wish you hadn’t come.”

Akechi is stunned. Feeling like he’s moving through a dream, he lowers his glass. “...Careful. You’re spewing shit about someone who’s been nothing but good to you to someone who loves him best. Did you think that I’d want to shit talk him with you? Gossip at his expense? Wherever you think your misplaced and, quite frankly, misguided loyalty toward me stems from, I’d recommend you put it to rest. Akira’s your friend too. He’s always kind to everyone. Everyone. And you’re trying to demonize him? To me. Me! Why? Why would you say these things about Akira? Do we really have the same person here?” He’s so confused.

“Goro,” she says lowly, pityingly.

That only makes him angrier. “You don’t understand us. We’re the only family we have left, Makoto! You don’t know what it’s like, being alone like we were. You were safe. You had a childhood, you had a family who supported you. We didn’t. So maybe it looks a little fucked up from the outside, but we’re just trying to survive. It was literal death waiting for us otherwise. Akira adores you. He’d never say a bad word about you, about any of us. He’s the best one out of all of us and he binds us all together, you know that. We’re here because of him, because he trusted you and loved you and I just — I don’t understand what you’re trying to do here. I don’t get it. What’s your problem?”

She sighs heavily, turning away and gazing out at the crowd. “...Nevermind, Goro. Just think about it sometime, if you will. And if you ever need someone to talk to about it, I’m here. Okay?”

“I won’t.”

“Alright,” she says. “I love him too. I’m not upset at him for me. But I get it. I do.”

Whatever she’s talking about, Akechi can’t look at it straight on. It doesn’t even make any sense. He looks out through the crowd, seeking out Akira. Leaving his side was a mistake, but he didn’t want to be the clingy needy type. But he just wants to talk with him. He just wants to be with him.

Akira’s somewhere else though, no doubt with Yoshizawa somewhere. Akechi can’t find him through the crowd.

“...What’s tonight?” Akechi murmurs, trying to shake the tension of his shoulders. He downs the entire flute in one go and flags the server over for another. “You keep mentioning that.”

“What do you mean?”

“To-night.” He waves his arm at the entire room before snatching up another glass. “Did Yoshizawa get a promotion or something? Why is everyone acting like there’s going to be some big announcement this evening? Is she trying for the Olympics next?” He chews out bitterly. “She’s a little old, though, isn’t she?”

Makoto’s frown deepens further as she turns to stare at him. She touches the tips of her fingers to her cheek, gaze honed it on his grudging expression. “...You’ve got to be kidding me. Did he not tell you?”

He narrows his eyes right back at her. “Tell me what?”

Her mouth drops open and she steps in close, grabbing Akechi by the arm like he’s just been stabbed through the chest and needs medical attention. “No. What is he thinking?” She breathes tightly. She looks over to Akira and then back to Akechi, blinking fast. “Oh. That idiot. I don’t want to be the one to tell you.”

“Tell me what?” He hisses. “What’d he do?”

“Oh. It’s just — It’s that — He and Sumi — Oh, god, I don’t want to be the one to say it. I can’t. This is terrible —”

Just then, the crowd parts and Akechi catches a glimpse of Akira across the room, chatting casually away. He looks as calm and in his element as ever. With one last disgruntled look at Makoto, Akechi whirls on his heel and makes his way over.

Akira sees him from his peripheral and he immediately brightens, grin widening. He steps back to make room for Akechi in the circle. “Hey. Everyone, this is my —”

“— Can I talk to you?” Akechi snatches him up by the arm and tugs hard.

Akira lets himself be pulled along, giving Yoshizawa a little sheepish grin as he tosses her a quick wave. Akechi drags him into a corner and pulls him in close, so they’re both in each other’s space.

“Hey, Goro, what’s up?” Akira doesn’t look upset, only mildly curious.

“What the fuck is Makoto’s problem tonight?” Akechi whispers fiercely into Akira’s ear. “Are you two fighting or something? Why is she trying to turn me against you? She’s talking so much shit about you! I don’t understand! I’m so fucking pissed off right now, I’m shaking. Look.”

Akira blinks innocently, gazing down at Akechi’s jittering hand. He grabs it and holds onto it tightly. “Makoto is?”

Akechi gives a wild shrug. “She’s acting like you fucking murdered my mother. Everyone’s referring to some big event tonight or something, I don’t know. She’s saying all this shit about how you’re taking advantage of me, of how we’re too codependent on each other and someone’s going to get hurt and it’s going to be me... What’s she talking about? What the hell does she think she knows? It’s really stressing me out.”

Akira looks up and through the crowd, making eye contact with Makoto from across the room. He looks confused, at first, but then something shifts in his eyes and he deflates, running a slow thoughtful hand across his face. “Oh... No, um...she’s right. I’ve...let something important get away from me and I...I see her point. Come here. Come upstairs with me. I’ve been avoiding it because it’s just... But I think it’s time for —”

“Akira!” An older man approaches, tossing both arms wide. “There he is. The man of the hour! Welcome, welcome!”

“Oh. Hello, Mr. Yoshizawa,” Akira pulls up a tight smile. “It’s nice to see you again. You’re looking well. Is that a new suit?”

“Nice of you to notice. Goodness, that red suits you, really brings that inner spark out in you. And who is this?” He laughs. “I’m only joking. If Akira didn’t talk our ear off about you each time we met up, I would’ve already known you from your work, of course. It’s an honor to meet you. Please call me Shinichi.”

From the corner of his vision, Akechi notices Akira’s eyebrows raise minutely. He gives a small smile as he takes Yoshizawa’s father’s hand in his. “Nice to meet you, Shinichi. Akira’s had nothing but good things to say about you.”

“Is that so?” He pats Akira on the back. “He’s a good boy, this one. And friends with you! I have to admit, the first few times I met him, I thought he was making up stories when he said the two of you grew up together. He had to show me photographic proof! I had no idea your origins, you keep it quiet, don’t you? That’s a real rags to riches fairytale, if I’ve ever heard one. The people would be all over that if you ever did an interview.”

Akechi’s smile grows stale.

“It’s nice to see you haven’t left behind your connections from humbler times though! I think that says a lot about your moral character that you two are still friends.”

Heat flickers up Akechi’s spine, angry and defensive. Akechi’s gaze flicks over Akira’s face for a moment, who raises his eyebrows in understanding...and warning. But Akechi can defend Akira in other ways than a fist to the face. He says silkily, “Ah, but don’t tell me you’ve let Akira fool you? He’s the actual force to be reckoned with between the two of us, he’s just too modest to own up to it. He’s the sole reason for my success actually, he encouraged me down this path when I was ready to give it up. On several accounts, actually. He’s my muse, if you will -- wicked smart and fiercely loyal in all the ways that truly matter in a person. Sumi’s very lucky to have him.”

Akira shuffles, cheeks pinkening. “Goro,” he mumbles lowly.

Yoshizawa’s father blinks, looking between the two of them. “Now, that sounds like another story I’ve never heard before. Has Akira mentioned I’m the director of the talk show Good Morning, Japan? I have to admit, we’ve contacted your people a few times trying to get you on our show but your assistant deflects each time no matter how we approach it. I wonder about your own thoughts on appearing on the show. You have an open invitation, of course.”

“My assistant runs a tight ship at my behest. I’m afraid work has me quite busy these days and I no longer have the time for interviews and the like. You’ll be the first I’ll contact once my schedule clears though,” he adds, watching the man’s face brighten and sparkle with hope. “Like I said, Akira has spoken very highly of you. He and I used to watch Good Morning, Japan every day of the week back in my university years, you know. It kept us going in even the most insane of times.”

The man grins, looking beyond delighted. He gives Akira a few more hearty claps on the back. “You boys flatter me! It’s the guests who keep the show going. We invite only the best.”

“And now you’re flattering me,” Akechi smiles blandly, but the man seems charmed.

Akira gives Akechi a little amused look before stepping forward. “Sorry for interrupting, but I actually had something I wanted to talk to Goro about really quickly in private. Is there some place quiet we could use?”

“Of course, you can use my study. No one will bother you there. It’s upstairs. You know the way, Akira.”

“Awesome, yeah. Thanks.”

Akira whirls Akechi around by the shoulders and guides him around and away. He laughs, bonking his forehead against the back of Akechi’s head before leaning in to murmur in his ear. “Way to lay it on thick. I thought I was going to die. I think he actually bought it though. Unbelievable.”

“It was the simple truth.”

“Thanks, Goro. I’m still working on him. Can’t believe he’s letting you call him Shinichi right off the bat but I still have to call him by his last name and it’s been years.”

Akechi snorts. “It isn’t me he likes, it’s the money.”

“This world is so unfair.”

“Isn’t it? I can give you the money, you know. I’d gladly split it right now, just say the word. You can start flaunting it around this very party. Then he’ll listen to you.”

“Shhh,” Akira laughs in his ear. “Stop that.”

They’re about to head up the staircase when a familiar squeaky voice interrupts them. “Oh! Akira! There you are. And Goro too, that’s perfect!”

Akechi turns...and his insides immediately tighten. It’s Yoshizawa and...another Yoshizawa. Her sister, her twin. Two of them. Great. Just what he needs. Especially right now, with Akira’s hands on him.

Akira takes his hands from Akechi’s shoulders and steps toward Yoshizawa. “Kasumi! You made it!”

“Yeah, I was just visiting a friend and frankly, just didn’t want to come. So. Late.” She opens her arms up and then lets them fall to her sides.

“A little lateness never hurt anyone,” Akira chuckles. “Nice to see you.”

Yoshizawa gestures to Akechi and says, “This is Goro. Goro Akechi. He’s the one we were talking about.”

“The asexual,” Akira clarifies helpfully.

Akechi rolls his eyes but has no energy to protest.

Kasumi is dressed in an honest god ball gown. Fussy, Akechi would call it, which he thinks, at first, with venom, but then realizes it’s actually a far cry from what Yoshizawa wears. He settles, gazing over her.

Where Yoshizawa is clumsy and scattered, Kasumi is elegant and sure. Akechi wasn’t expecting that for some reason.

Not that it matters. Akechi flashes her a brief disingenuous grin before he turns to Akira. “Wonderful to meet you, but weren’t we going to have that chat now? I had something I wanted to give you too.”

Akira frowns. “Hey. We promised no gifts, we always promise that. It’s a group rule.”

“And you always break it for me. Besides, it’s not a gift, it’s a souvenir.”

He immediately brightens. “Oh, is it my conch shell?”

Another person intrudes their space. Akechi heaves a sigh the same time Akira pulls a face before he quickly smooths it away.

It’s Yoshizawa’s father again. “So you’ve met! This is the one I was telling you about, Kasumi. He’s the richest thirty-something year old in the world right now. Voted hottest bachelor of last year and called the genius of our century. Quite the status for someone still fairly young.”

“Ha,” Akechi laughs into the back of his hand. “I’m afraid it’s only genius of the decade.”

Akira’s the only one who laughs. Kasumi raises her eyebrows and Yoshizawa presses her lips together tightly in fear.

Their father continues on as if he hasn’t heard. “My dear Kasumi knows a thing or two about being one of the best, don’t you, dear? She’s the golden achiever of our family. She has more talent than all of us combined in this family. It’s such an honor to have her as my daughter. Kasumi, please, introduce yourself.”

Ouch. Akechi feels an unfortunate sting of sympathy for Yoshizawa, the clearly unwanted twin. She’s so used to it that she doesn’t even flinch. She and Akechi make eye contact and she just smiles through it, bright and chipper, as she always is. He’s not sure he’d be able to do that.

Kasumi, though. She’s Yoshizawa...only...she isn’t. Her posture’s more secure. Her smile is sharper and twisted with an earned kind of confidence. She doesn’t lower her head to hide her eyes behind her bangs, she looks around at everyone like she knows she owns the place. For all Akechi knows, maybe she does. Do Olympians win prize money? He has no idea. Seems like they should.

She holds her hand out for Akechi and grins. Something about her seems irritated and displeased to be here and Akechi cannot deny that he understands that one. “I’ve heard a lot about you, Akechi. Is it true you have a house full of robots?”

He takes her hand and holds back his sigh for Akira’s sake. He begins to recite his usual tired speech about his work when she cuts him off.

“Me too. I have a few, actually.”

“Really?” He feigns interest and looks around the room at the servers. No. Not them. “In this house?”

“Yeah, they’re in my room. Sumi was telling me a bit about yours the other day and she mentioned yours don’t dust. Color me surprised, genius of our decade and your robots can’t dust? That’s kinda weird. Because my robots totally dust.” She spreads her hands out wide in front of her. “Roombas, the wave of the future. You should’ve tried buying one of those before making an entirely new model. You wasted so much time. I think they sell them at Walmart.”

Akira snorts out loud, a sharp sudden sound. He tries to disguise it as a cough.

Mr. Yoshizawa goes red as he chokes violently on nothing. “Kasumi,” he says in horror before turning quickly to Akechi. “I’m so sorry about her. I don’t know what’s come over her. She’s going through a bit of a rebellious streak lately. Must be overwhelmed from the party...”

Akechi hums. “Well, the accusations are a bit false. My Arsène can technically dust. He just has an attitude about it sometimes, so he chooses not to. And who am I to deny him the wonders of a rebellious heart? It soothes something in mine, honestly.”

Kasumi says, “Yes, but can he travel around on wheels as small as a teacup Pomeranian? Because that’s really the only way to win at life.”

He snorts, his stale grin going crooked and genuine. “You think you’re quite clever, don’t you?”

She gives a mocking little curtsy. “You’re one of the first who’s ever noticed. Usually, they’re more busy trying to ask about my gold medal. Since apparently that’s all I’m good for,” she says lowly, shooting her father a grudging unhappy look.

“Kasumi.” Her father looks horrified.

This pleases Akechi. He looks down at his nails and observes them casually. “Ahh... Right. You won some sort of medal for...rolling around on the floor, was it? That sounds...fun, I suppose. If that’s your sort of thing.”

Her smile widens. “Just the Olympics. No big deal.”

“Right, I may’ve heard a little something about that. Is it well known? I wouldn’t know. I don’t keep up with politics. They’re so dreadfully boring.”

She beams. Beams. He’s never really been able to be his genuine asshole self with anyone other than Akira without critically offending them. And she just smiles in the face of it. Akira was right about her. He is so annoying.

Akira and Yoshizawa both watch on from the sidelines, eyebrows arched, perplexed. Akira begins to smile, eyes twinkling. “So that’s how you flirt, huh?” Akira chirps.

Akechi turns his head sharply as he unravels his arms out of his pose. “Excuse me?”

Their father snatches up the opportunity. He puts his hands on Yoshizawa and Kasumi’s backs, nudging them away from the staircase. “Perfect! I knew you’d all get along! Why don’t you all sit together over drinks? Get to know each other. It isn’t every day we have the Goro Akechi in our home.”

“Dad, I told you to be cool,” Yoshizawa mutters, eyes wide in disbelief and cheeks pink with mortification.

And Akechi thinks about it. What he’d feel like if he were in Kasumi’s position. Not that he ever could be again. But if his parents loved him so much they wanted him paired with some rich Top Whatever 30 year old. Maybe he understands what Akira wants out of a family. Security and comfort of someone wanting you enough they want something for you.

With one last encouraging nudge, their father strides off to harass the next set of guests. They stand together awkwardly.

“Oh my god,” Yoshizawa says, looking to Kasumi. “Dad is out of control.”

“I knew this was going to happen. He texted me an hour ago saying I was going to end up an old maid if I keep scaring away future prospects and it’d be a waste of my ‘talents’.”

Yoshizawa makes a face at that. “What is that supposed to mean? Like...your flexibility?”

Akira chokes on nothing again, looking out at the crowd and pretending not to listen.

“You okay there, Akira?” Kasumi gives him a wry smile and a little pat on the back to help him along before saying to Yoshizawa, “Dunno. Your guess is as good as mine. I really really didn’t want to come after that, but I did. For you.”

“Thank you, sis,” Yoshizawa grins brightly at her. “I hate these things without you...then Dad focuses on me instead.”

“Hey.”

“But Akira,” Yoshizawa loops her arm through his and tugs him into her side. “There are still some people I wanted you to meet. My aunt is here from Belgium! She rarely ever visits! We gotta catch her before she runs off on her evening nap like she always does.”

Akira turns to look at Akechi. He hesitates. “Um...”

Akechi stares back. He’s about to be ditched, isn’t he?

“Not to worry! I’ll take care of him,” Kasumi says, patting Akechi on the arm encouragingly. “He is very safe with me.”

“Oh, but I —”

“He’ll be fine,” Yoshizawa says brightly, blinking her big eyelashes at him.

Akira looks torn in two.

Akechi’s nose twitches, but he sighs. Looks like he’s not going to be delivering his gift tonight after all. “Go,” he says wearily. “No heterosexuals allowed. Fuck off already.”

Akira snorts violently in surprise. He narrows his eyes at Akechi in mirth before shaking his head delicately. “Stick around, will you? I’m coming back to collect you.”

“Not going anywhere.”

Akechi watches Akira leave, feeling a bit put out.

Kasumi sits easily at a table, grabbing a little flute of champagne and downing it. “Come sit with me, Goro Akechi. I’ve heard a lot about you.”

With a sigh, he takes a seat near her and carefully scoots in. “How unfortunate for you.” He hesitates for only a moment before taking a full champagne glass delicately between his fingers. He says, “I’m afraid to say I haven’t actually heard too much about you. Just that you went to the Olympics and used to think you were bisexual but now are considering asexuality.”

She laughs and shrugs. “Akira and Sumi summed me up to a T, I see. They are two silly little peas in a pod.”

“Hmm.”

“I’m sorry about earlier, for my dad and for me. Akira and Sumi said you were cool but Father was so excited about you and I don’t actually want to be here and was forced, so I was trying to piss him off. I don’t like how he’s trying to set me up. No offense to you but full offense to him. I’m glad I didn’t upset you though. You don’t seem so bad.”

He snorts. “It’s nice to find someone of a similar mind. I’m not one for parties but Akira forced me to come.”

“He bosses you around too, huh?” She laughs into the air, her long deep red hair is done up in soft curls that bounce over her shoulder like a TV commercial. “That’s so funny. Those two seem so sweet on the outside, but secretly are trouble on the inside, aren’t they? Like I said: peas! Sumi’s mouse-quiet around everyone else, but then she bosses me around like there’s no tomorrow when it’s just her and me. Wouldn’t think it, would you?”

“Oh, I doubt you would let anyone boss you around that you wouldn’t want.”

She smiles coyly up at him. “You either. And yet...”

“And yet.”

She laughs again. “Siblings. You must really love him.”

“...Yes,” he says, turning back to seek out Akira, who’s nowhere to be seen again. Akechi’s always losing him. “Those. Can’t live with them, can’t live without them.”

“Like peas!”

He gives her a funny look and then laughs. “...Sure. Like peas.”

They talk. They talk about nothing, about silly shallow things. It turns out they have quite a bit in common, which Akechi is surprised about. Yoshizawa’s always so pleasant, always so bright, even though it feels like she’s using it all to hide away any unpleasant darkness inside of her. Akechi hates that about her. The pretending. But Kasumi is different. He supposes her parents treated her differently, praised her, and so she never felt the need to hide behind anything else. She is now unapologetically herself and comfortably so.

“I actually didn’t even want to go to the Olympics,” she sighs into her hand over another glass flute. She hands Akechi a new one casually, scooting the several empty glasses away. “When Sumi didn’t make it, it was just sort of like...what am I even doing here? But she really wanted to see me succeed, so I did, for her. And I got it. Woohoo. But...” She shrugs. “It didn’t feel like anything. It sounds funny, but it took me a long time to realize that it wasn’t what I wanted. I was just doing what I was told. It was supposed to bring me happiness, but I’m not sure what it brought me. The realization that nothing really means anything if you didn’t start it with your own intent? I dunno. It sounds crazy, it’s such an honor, but now, I just resent it.”

Akechi bites at his nails as he stares down at his newest empty glass. “...Akira too. This isn’t the route I would’ve chosen for myself, but everyone was so happy for me, and Akira and I were so dirt poor... We barely had enough scraped together for food and I hated to see him suffer. He’d always smile through it...god, I’d hate how he’d pretend for me, I could always see right through him. I couldn’t take it anymore. What a waste not to follow the path toward guaranteed money, right? I had to do it. So I did.”

“That’s hard to imagine,” Kasumi hums thoughtfully. “If it were just Sumi and me living together, no support...I know I’d want to choose what was best for her too. If it guaranteed her safety.”

“It did. It does. If I died right now, Akira would get everything and he’d never have to work another day in his life. I’d give it all to him now, but he doesn’t want it. He could get a mansion on the coast, buy whatever the fuck he wants. Replace your sister’s piece of shit car she’s still driving around. Can’t be safe anymore.”

Kasumi chuckles. “Right? I’ve told her a million times. It’s the sentimental value at this point.”

Akechi rolls his eyes. “It is nice, having the money. I don’t have to worry about him at all, no matter what happens. He’s safe.”

“That’s good,” she says in an unconvinced tone. “What about you though? You can’t just sacrifice yourself for his happiness. I don’t think he’d want that.”

“No, I--”

“What would you have done, if you had chosen what you wanted? For you. Not for anyone else. Money being no object.”

He bites at his lip. Shrugs. “It was always an object.”

“Yeah, but just say it wasn’t. Say he’d be supported and safe either way. What would you want to do then?”

For the first time maybe ever, Akechi allows himself to think about it. He’s never had that luxury. All he’s had is worry and anxiety and the image of Akira in dire trouble and Akechi being unable to help. He shrugs with a soft helpless chuckle. “Fuck, I have no idea.”

“What do you want, Goro Akechi?” She says, leaning forward with deep interest. Her dark eyes glitter with light. She’s quite pretty, actually. “Everyone wants something.”

He thinks of Akira. Akira, running down the aisle with him and laughing during high school graduation, getting right in Akechi’s face and flipping his tassel to the other side. Akira, helping him move out of their mothers’ old apartment and breaking down on the steps, heaving and sobbing and having one of his infamous panic attacks. But you’re leaving...! Akira, excitedly leaning over their housing development plans, plotting it all out with an enthusiasm Akechi couldn’t keep up with. Blue paint on his nose, standing before the stars he painted all over Akechi’s house laughing and laughing and laughing...

Akechi shrugs again, gentler this time. “I just want to be happy.”

“Yes!” She leans further in eagerly. “And how do we get there?”

Akira.

He takes a deep breath into both hands and closes his eyes. “I don’t know.” He gives a faint laugh. “Maybe I need someone to tell me what to do, after all.”

“And Akira’s good at that.”

“Yeah,” he chuckles. “What about you? What do you want?”

She hums, leaning back in her chair and crossing her legs. “I think...to be understood. Some days it’s so hard. It’s like everyone’s got me pinned in the exact opposite way I see myself. Get married, Kasumi, find someone. It makes me insane. I might not even like the idea of marriage. How about you? Akira tells me you’re asexual.”

“Oh,” he rolls his eyes. “Yes. He loves that, doesn’t he? He’s like a kid learning a new word. He gets so excited talking about it.”

“You’re the first one I’ve met in person. Feels a bit like seeing a hippo in real life for the first time.”

He snorts in amusement. “Of all the animals...”

“What? They’re cute and fierce, but like...something you wouldn’t immediately expect to see in a zoo.”

“I’m asexual, not ahumanity.”

She laughs.

“And honestly, I’m not sure that I am. Akira asked one day and I just sort of...I dunno, spit it out and he just took off with it. I didn’t know what else to say, I don’t know if I really fit anywhere.”

“Ah.”

“I apologize. I wish I could be of more help, but honestly, I’m just as confused as...well, I’m not sure if others are confused or not. I feel like it seems so simple for everyone else but, for me, it never is.” He reaches for a new glass. He’s not sure if it’s his or Kasumi’s, but he’s at that magical point where he doesn’t really care anymore. Parties really aren’t that bad. Not this way. He tosses another back.

Kasumi waves him away. “Don’t be silly. I’m not expecting anything out of anyone. I’m just going with the flow, you know? Whatever happens, happens. If I like someone, I like someone. If I don’t, I don’t. No big deal.”

He smiles crookedly, fondness flaring in his heart. Or is it the alcohol? “I like that. How very...stable of you.”

“Not so stable yourself?”

He laughs lowly. “Oh, no. No, no. We’re not going there. That’s dangerous territory.”

She waggles her eyebrows. “Oooh, color me intrigued.”

He laughs harder. “I don’t think so. That’s between me, myself, and I. I’m taking it all to my grave, thank you very much.”

Warmth pours over his shoulder and comforting weight envelops him. “Hey, Goro.” Akira murmurs lowly in his ear. “What secrets are we talking about here?”

His cock jolts and so does he, back of his head slamming back into Akira’s face. “Ow!”

“Ow.” Akira groans and laughs as he steps back. “What the fuck, Goro?”

“Me? What the hell do you think you’re doing sneaking into my private space like that? You should be grateful I didn’t tear your fucking nose off.”

He snorts, giving him a playful flick on the ear. “Looks like you two are getting along,” he smiles slyly at the both of him. “Though now you know all about Goro’s bad temper.”

“Oh, I don’t mind,” she says easily. “I like how he’s honest.”

“Too honest, if you ask me,” Akira snorts, pinching at Akechi’s nose.

“Fuck off. Why do you keep grabbing at me? Are you drunk again?”

“Am not. I am a well behaved gentleman.”

“Liar.” He slaps him away playfully and then holds onto his hand. He’s warm. He stares at his catch intently: long delicate fingers that would feel very nice inside of him. So long. If they curled inside, dipped in deep... Fuck. “I’m drunk.”

Akira snorts. “Yeah, I can see that.” He wiggles his fingers. “What are you looking at there, bud? Secrets of the universe?”

You, he thinks secretly to himself. Akechi turns Akira’s hands over and brushes over his nails as he asks casually, “How were the aunts?”

“Ant-y. She loves cats. An authentic cat lady. She reminds me of you a little actually, Goro. Little pink lacy doilies. Portraits of your beloveds hung up on the wall in impeccable frames. And by ‘beloveds’, I mean cats, not people, of course. That’d just be weird. And possibly illegal.”

“Shut up,” he sighs pleasantly.

“Mind if I borrow Goro, Kasumi? I know he’s so precious and hard to share —” He pinches both of Akechi’s cheeks.

“Stop,” Akechi agonizes, elbowing half-heartedly at him.

“—But I’ll be really quick. We’ve been trying to make it to the damn study since earlier, but we keep getting interrupted.”

She smiles at the both of them roughhousing. Akechi keeps tugging at Akira’s fingers. He drags one into his mouth and bites down, gnawing at it like a teething toy. “Be my guest. I’ll hold down the fort here.”

“Awesome. Thanks. Goro, come here. Stop biting. What the fuck.”

“Why are we moving?” He grunts. “You may not be drunk, but I think I am...”

Akira laughs, “You think? You’ve reached your biting stage. Stop it, by the way. That hurts.”

“I don’t want to move. Can’t we just talk here?”

“No,” Akira hums, grabbing onto Akechi’s other hand and trying to lift him to his feet. “Won’t take too long. Don’t be a baby.”

“You’re the baby.” He pouts, tossing his head to lean against Akira’s arm. He closes his eyes down. Yes. Parties really aren’t so bad, after all. He’ll just stay here for the rest of it. Best. Night. Ever. Content and safe and wrapped up tightly in the arms of someone who loves him. He can just give in here and still be safe. Where else can he do that? “...’Ve got something for you,” he mumbles into Akira’s jacket. “In my breast pocket. Get it for me, will you? I saw it at the beach and it reminded me of you... It was so pretty...just like you. You’re going to like it, I hope... You’re going to really like it.”

“Oh, my shell?” Akira shifts Akechi to find the pocket.

The chime of a glass cuts neatly through the air.

Akira jolts, going ramrod straight. His hands freeze over Akechi’s. “Shit.”

Kasumi and Yoshizawa’s father stands at his table at the front of the ballroom. “May I have everyone’s attention, please?”

“Oh, shit,” Akira repeats, whirling to look over at their father. His eyes flicker back to Akechi’s face, who stares back curiously as he pulls his heavy body up. “He’s early. I told him to wait.”

“Classic Christmas Eve mistake. Dad always loves a good toast,” Kasumi sighs, taking another sip from her glass. “Can’t ever wait.”

Akira jitters, biting roughly at his lip as he looks between Akechi and Yoshizawa’s dad.

Akechi frowns as he reaches up to grab at Akira’s cheek. “...What’s going on with you? You’re so pale.”

“Oh, Goro. I’m just. Augh. Shit. I meant to do this differently. I thought —”

Akechi stares in confusion. “Is this about the Olympics announcement?”

“What?”

“Akira Kurusu,” Mr. Yoshizawa is staring at them, expectant smile on his face. “The stage is yours.” He sits.

Akira draws in a long deep breath, casting one last uncertain look in Akechi’s direction. “...I’ve gotta go. I’m sorry. I’ll explain everything after, wait here, okay?”

“What? But...”

Akira draws his hand out of Akechi’s grip and walks toward the front of the room.

Their connection breaks. Akechi’s fingers curl over thin cold air. He looks at them, perplexed, and then up at Akira’s retreating back.

...Oh.

Akechi stares, eyes wide. His heart begins to beat oddly in his chest. Because, slowly, things are slotting into place.

All eyes are on Akira. The room is silent in anticipation. And...Makoto was right.

All his life, Akechi did what he thought was best for Akira, including coming here. But no one’s ever done that for him. For once, he should’ve protected himself. He should have put his foot down. He should’ve stayed on vacation, far far away from this, like he knew would be best for him.

But Akira asked, so Akechi came.

Suddenly, he knows what this night is about. All the signs were right there. He just couldn’t let himself see.

Akira walks to the front, tugging his blood red vest down as he takes long deep breaths.

Oh, god.

Akechi can’t be here. The room sways as he tries to push himself from the table and he sends a glass on its side.

Kasumi grabs it before it rolls and quickly puts a hand to his forearm, steadying him. “Shh, shh,” she hushes brightly in his ear. “Don’t go off to the restroom just yet. I think you’ll want to see this.”

Akira grabs the microphone from the front table where Mr. Yoshizawa left it for him. He looks so odd up there. He’s always been like two different people: Akechi’s Akira and then that other one, the one Akechi doesn’t know, the one who doesn’t need him.

Akechi’s heart is beating heavily in his throat, sweat builds at his brow. He can’t be here.

“Testing, testing,” Akira says into the mic, sounding in control and in his element. He grins brilliantly out at everyone, a beacon of light and stability and life. He looks so in place here. He belongs.

Akira’s voice is everywhere, filling the space with his rich deep velvet. “It was a night like this one that Sumi and I met. It had been stormy all day long. I had wanted to stay home and hide indoors, but my best friend had forced me to meet him at our favorite local jazz club. He was late and I was beginning to get bored. I almost went home, but I started wandering the streets instead. You know how crazy busy they get, especially in the middle of holiday season, it’s a fight to get anywhere. It’s hard to pay any attention to the crowd, especially specific people, there are so many faces to focus on just one, but... I don’t know what it was. In the middle of it all, there she was,” he says, turning to the table where Sumi sits, staring up at him with wide eyes. “She was waiting outside the gym for her sister, it was getting cold but she was just standing there like it didn’t even affect her, face tilted up, staring at the stars up above. Stillness in the midst of all this rambling chaos. ...She was the most beautiful person I’ve ever seen. It felt like we were both meant to be there right then, right there.

“We talked all evening long. I’d never had such an immediate connection with anyone before. It was like we’d already been friends for ages. It was so easy to be with her.

“And, somehow, seven years have passed since then.”

Akira gets down to one knee and the whole crowd gasps. Akechi can’t move. He stays frozen, staring, ice.

Akira says with warmth in his voice and face, “Sumi. It feels as if I’ve been living in darkness until I met you. I was destined to drown in it, but then fate brought us together. You’re the bright light in the dark. The sun in the night. Your love, your joy, your bravery in the face of hardships. From you, I learn how to be a better person every day.

“Life has been hollow, but now I have you and I don’t feel that way anymore. These past seven years with you have been the best of my life and all I can see in our future is light and joy and newfound possibilities. Won’t you join me so we can discover even more together? Sumi...” He slips his hand in his breast pocket and a small star glitters and sparkles in his hand. He presents it to her, holding it up in the light. “Will you marry me?”

Yoshizawa screams. She hops over the table, tripping on the cutlery. Akira catches her with a laugh as she falls straight into his arms, a ball of shimmering sparkles. She’s like a falling star plummeting to earth right into his arms. “YES,” she cries. Tears are already pouring down her face. “Yes, yes, yes!! Of course!! Akira!! Yes!! I’ll marry you! Of course I will! I will!!”

The room erupts in cheers and applause and shouts.

“CONGRATULATIONS!!!”

Balloons drop down from the ceiling. Confetti. People have party poppers.

It’s so...loud. But Akechi’s senses begin to shut down one by one. Everything sounds like it’s all happening through a long narrow tunnel, sound echoing and bouncing oddly from all directions.

Yoshizawa’s relatives smile into each other, content and excited and buzzing. Everyone loves an engagement.

Servers come out with new themed desserts, sparklers with red and gold celebratory tinsel. Congratulations, Akira and Sumire, they say. This was planned.

Akechi watches it all, feeling like he’s out of his body.

He was the only one who didn’t know, it seems.

Akechi didn’t know.

“Oh, shit, the ring doesn’t fit. Her finger’s too big,” Kasumi giggles into her hand. “Ah, well. That’s easy enough to fix. Sumi’ll be delighted. You know she’s been waiting for this for a long time now. She didn’t know why he was waiting so long. Isn’t it great?” Kasumi says, looking over at Akechi. She stops. “...Oh.”

Akira. He’s all Akechi can see. He’s holding onto Yoshizawa so tightly. His hand is nestled in her hair. And he’s kissing her. ...He’s kissing her.

Just like how Akechi would like to be kissed by him. What would it be like if that were them there? If Akechi had been born right. If Akira had loved him.

Would he be warm and gentle and comforting, like he is right now, with Yoshizawa? Supporting her, loving her, wanting her. Would Akira have looked at him like that...?

They’re a beautiful couple.

They’re honestly perfect.

They’re matching. Look at that. Their colors are the same. And the confetti. Someone got the memo. It’s red and black and gold too, just like them. It’s perfect. Everything’s perfect.

Everything’s...so...perfect.

Akira will have a very perfect life. Akira will move on. As he should. He should. Of course he should.

Look how happy Akira is. Happy. With a capital H. Look at him. There’s no one better for him.

No one.

Life has been hollow until you.

Was it? Akechi didn’t know that. He thought Akira was content, like he was with him. He was so blissfully happy living with Akira all those years. He thought...

But...

It doesn’t matter. Even if Akira had been as happy with Akechi all those years as Akechi had been with him, well...it was just never going to work out in the future anyway, was it? Akira was always going to be here, choosing someone else. It’d happen a million times over before he’d choose Akechi. Not that he ever would. Akechi always knew that.

Knowing and experience are two very different things though. And Akechi is drowning beneath the weight of this. He was caught unguarded. He didn’t have time to prepare. Only seven years. Only that much... And he’s drunk. He’s vulnerable.

He’s trembling.

Someone’s saying his name from nearby. Everything feels so faraway.

“I...” Akechi swallows hard, or tries to, but his throat is suddenly so dry. He sets his glass of champagne down on the table and it sloshes over the side and onto the cloth. He rubs his hand over his neck. “I, um...” He struggles to his feet, feeling odd and dizzy and inhuman. He’s so drunk. That’s what this is. “I... I think...” He looks out at all the faceless people. The swaying of colors, flesh and red and black and... “I need...air. I think I need.” He swallows hard. He can’t breathe. “Air.”

Where’s Akira...? He needs Akira.

No. He can’t do that anymore.

He stumbles over the corner of the chair, gripping onto the back tightly to hold himself up. He doesn’t know where to go, who to go to. There’s no one anymore.

“H-hey,” Kasumi murmurs with worry, hand outstretched hesitantly. “Should I go with you? You don’t look so good...”

He doesn’t see her. He runs, getting knocked back and forth through bodies. All celebrating. All cheering and laughing and dancing together. It feels like hell. Like his own personal hell, where everyone is so happy at his pain, everyone’s clinking glasses together. Isn’t it so great that Goro Akechi is alone? That he’s hated? That no one loves him? It’s what he deserves. He’s worthless.

He whimpers, hand outstretched, trying to find a pathway for himself that’s safe, that’s okay. He doesn’t know where to step where he won’t be tossed about like he’s on a ship in the middle of a storm. Is it him? Is it the people?

He’s spit out on the other side, hitting the balcony door with his shoulder. He pushes his way through, gasping and falling to his knees when it opens.

He heaves both doors closed, smearing his hot face along the wood. He can’t get back up.

Fuck.

Fuck.

How could he be so stupid? He was probably the only one coming who didn’t know. Even that idiot Ryuji probably was told. They left Akechi out in the dark on purpose, laughing silently inside as he came anyway, a naive lamb walking toward its own slaughter. Why. Why?!

Shakily, Akechi pulls himself to his feet and stumbles onto the patio railing, vomiting up the champagne. It burns all the way up. So stupid. Champagne, the drink of engagements. How could he not have seen...?

He doesn’t want it inside of him. He grips at his stomach with harsh tight fingers, wanting to dig it out from his core, wanting it out, no matter the cost.

“Fuck,” he laughs, the sound sharp and pained. “Oh, fuck.”

Two little boys sitting in a cold empty room after yet another death, wondering their place in the world. The room used to be full. Parents, friends, security. One by one, the room grew quieter and quieter until it was just the two of them, huddled in closely for warmth so they wouldn’t freeze into a block of ice.

And now, Akira’s at the front door, staring inside at Akechi, sprawled naked on the floor. He takes his first step out. The door slams shut, the room goes quiet and dark. And now, Akechi’s all alone.

Life’s been so hollow until you...

Akechi gave every last bit of himself to Akira hoping to fill the holes, to mend the scars. But it was just his ego that tricked him into believing it was enough.

He didn’t want to see, even though it was always coming. Akira was never going to be alone, that’s just not the kind of person he was born to be. He was born to thrive, just as Akechi was born to wilt in shadows.

Akechi had always been the lucky one here. Lucky to have Akira as his friend, as his family, as someone who was patient with someone as ornery and hateful as him. As someone who was too good for him. Akechi did what anyone in his place would, he wanted to cling tightly to the time they had left, so he closed his eyes and let himself fail to see...

It’s been over for a long, long time. Akira was never going to be his. Someone like that would never love someone like him.

He wants to toss himself right off the side of this railing. He’s drunk enough that maybe it could be written up as an accident and maybe Akira would never have to know why. And he could go ride off into the sunset with his wife. He could go into his warm bright future. Just go. Just go...

Something hard presses against his chest and he realizes, with another cold sinking feeling in his chest, that the gift he got Akira is still with him.

How will this mean anything now? Do you like it? Do you like me? It’s nothing in comparison to what Yoshizawa is giving him: a future, a life. Everything. He feels like such a fool. Like gold and a story could make up for everything he’s not.

He rips it out of his pocket and stares down at it, glinting in the soft night light. His mother was here, in this decision, someone he loved, and this chain represents the last part of his heart that’s still hers, that’s perhaps still somewhat pure and good. The moon and the sun, always orbiting each other, light and dark, daylight and night. There’s only darkness here. What a fool to think otherwise. He lifts his arm to toss it as far away as he possibly can —

The doors creak open behind him, the sound of laughter and celebration flooding the balcony.

Akechi turns, rubbing the back of his wrist over his wet red face. The golden chain dangles from his fingers.

It’s Ann and Ryuji. They’re drunk. Making out and all over each other, his hand slipped into the opening of her dress and groping her breasts as she makes soft pleasurable noises beneath her breath. Akechi is immediately filled with black blinding hatred. Ryuji dips her and she giggles, but they both turn when they realize they’re not alone.

“Oh, shit,” Ryuji says, eyes widening. He scrambles to take his hand back. “Oh, shit. Akechi. Dude. Are you...are you crying? What the — What happened?”

Ann elbows him sharply in the ribs as she stumbles back to her feet. “Sorry, Akechi.” She fixes her dress and then her hair. “We didn’t know anyone was out here. We’ll leave you alone.” She hesitates, looking him up and down with soft understanding in her eyes. “Did you, um... Did you need anything? An ear to talk to? Um. A hug?” She opens both arms.

He stares at her darkly. Her dress is a disheveled mess. Her lipstick is smudged. He doesn’t know why, he actually likes Ann out of all of them, but he feels burning rage cut through him at that. She’s tainted by someone else’s love. It’s disgusting and ugly and absolutely abhorrent and he feels like she’s all those things too. They both are. They all are.

Love is an awful poisonous thing.

“Just leave me alone,” he says quietly, turning away.

“Oh, um... Alright. But if you need anything, come find us.”

“Why are you —?” Ryuji tries again.

“Ryuji,” Ann whispers harshly. “I’ll tell you in a second.”

“But —”

“Ryuji.”

“Guys!” From the door, a familiar voice lashes out urgently.

Akechi closes his eyes and grits his teeth, that out of control bitter monster spiraling and spiking and stabbing him through over and over and over and how is he supposed to breathe, let alone handle this situation? He needs to be alone.

“Guys, hey, have you seen Goro? I can’t find him anywhere! I swear he was just — Kasumi said he was in there, but he left and I’ve been looking all — over...” Akira’s spotted him.

Akechi leans forward, bowing his face into his hands. He doesn’t have the energy to tell Akira to leave.

“We’ll give you some space,” Ann says softly. “We’ll keep everyone out, okay?”

“Thanks, Ann...”

“Be gentle, hm?”

“Yeah...”

The doors shut and it goes quiet again. Neither of them move.

Akechi sniffs, rubbing at his eyelids. Fuck. Fuck. He’s not ready for this. He needs more time, like a year or a decade or a lifetime. In his heart, Akira has always been his. He knows it’s his fault, that he was delusional, but he’s never been able to understand: they love each other, clearly, so why...? Why could Akechi never make it work?

He doesn’t turn around. He looks drearily down at the chain draped over his fingers. A useless shallow gesture. He slips it back into his pocket and stuffs it out of sight. “Congratulations, Akira.”

“Goro,” Akira says lowly, slow caution in his words. “Are you alright?”

He keeps his voice steady and even. He’d like to sound bright, but he can’t risk it. He knows it’d turn to malice and Akira can read through all his lies. “You should go back to the celebration. I’m sure everyone’s excited and you’re the star of the show, after all. Can’t keep them waiting.”

“Goro,” Akira says even quieter. “...What are you doing out here all by yourself? Are you alright?”

He sniffs in a big breath. Means to say of course, but he can’t do it. Even if everyone else will betray him, he can’t. It’s only him now. It’s only him.

“Please just go back inside,” he whispers tightly, closing his eyes against the cold winter’s chill.

Akira steps in closer. “I... I meant to tell you,” Akira says faintly. “I tried. I know I should’ve. But...everything’s been happening so quickly lately and when I invited you, I sort of thought you’d figure it out and then bail at the last second if you needed to. You-you do that. I just sort of figured that, by you being here, it meant...that you were...okay... ...But Makoto informed me that uh...that you didn’t actually know at all. And that I just sort of...blindsided you. I know I did.”

Akechi stays quiet.

“I’m sorry. I should have told you. I’ve told you in my head a million times over in a million different ways and a million different scenarios but each time I went to do it, I just...I stopped. Every time seemed so bad and I was worried. Worried what you’d say when you heard.”

Akechi laughs lowly. “...What’s with all this worry? How did you think I’d react? I’d fly off the handle and try to persuade you otherwise?”

“No, I never thought that. I just thought... I just...” Akira trails off and says nothing.

“But I’m your best friend. I should be happy for you. That’s how a best friend would feel. Am I not that?”

Akechi makes a soft noise of protest. “I know it’s terrible timing. You’re obviously going through something, I don’t know what. You’re trying to escape something — me? I don’t know. You left. You’ve never done that before. And I’ve been so confused staring at your empty house you left behind. I know you’re hurting. And it’s a bad time. And why couldn’t I have just waited and chosen a better time? I mean, right? What’s wrong with me?” He laughs nervously. “I kept thinking that too. But...but it’s always a bad time. One year, I was going to propose, but then you called literally as I was going to tell you and you were upset about that fight with your therapist and you were a mess and so I canceled the date and —”

“...I had no idea.”

“I know you didn’t. I know. I was just going to reschedule, but I was waiting for you to feel...I dunno, more stable? So I waited. And it took a while for you to stabilize when you went on your new meds. But then I was thinking about it and...another year too, I was going to propose then. But you got the flu. And you were puking your brains out over your toilet, upset about your mom, how she’d never hold your hair anymore. And you said...you said I was the only person you had left. And you’d have nothing without me. And I... I couldn’t just take that away from you. Because I know. You’ve always been that for me too.

“But you left this year. You left me. And I thought...maybe it’s a sign things need to change for the both of us. Right? Maybe we don’t need each other as much as we once did. Sumi’s ready for a family. She wants kids. We’re fucking thirty, Goro. Soon, Sumi will be too old to have kids at all.”

“She’s thirty,” Akechi chokes, tossing his head back to gaze blankly into the sky. “God, basically one foot in the grave! Better rush off to impregnate her now!!”

“Not that this is any of your business, but her side of the family goes into menopause early — like mid to late thirties early — and she’s really nervous about missing the mark and we want several kids and ten years go by in the blink of an eye and — God, why am I explaining all this? You wouldn’t get it. You’re not going to have to ever worry about that, you’re never going to get married!”

Akechi shudders, gripping tightly to the railing and closing his eyes shut.

“Our parents were older when they had us and look how well that turned out for the both of us! They died before we could even -- I... I need to start now, Goro. I can’t...wait...for you to get your shit together. I’ll still be here for you for anything, of course I will. Nothing has to change between us, no matter if Sumi and I get married or how many kids we have. But... I can’t hold off on marrying her because you’re not ready. You’re not part of this marriage. It’s been seven years with her. She’s been patient and understanding, she doesn’t complain about this thing you and I have, but I can’t keep stringing her along. I’ve known since the beginning that this is the life I want. I can’t — wait anymore. What else am I supposed to do? I’m getting frustrated like this.”

“I hadn’t realized... I hadn’t known you were waiting because of me... You never said anything.”

“Because every time I mention Sumi, you either change the topic or flat out ignore me. You’ve always been sensitive about her.”

“Sensitive.”

“Yes! Look. I don’t blame you, okay? I know how much you hate change, how much it scares you. It scares me too, okay? And I know you don’t get the whole relationship/girlfriend thing, but you don’t have to. I want to make this as painless as possible, but I need you to communicate with me too. You shut down and it’s like trying to work with a brick wall, I don’t know what to do! I don’t want to lose you over this though, Goro. It shouldn’t have to be that way. I love Sumi, but I love you too,” he whispers. “Can’t that be okay?”

Akechi nods sharply, trying to keep it together. He scuffs his foot against the floor, still nodding. I love you. Just not that way. Not the most. I’ll leave you before I leave her. You’re the expendable one. Only you. So you have to be alright with it. Or you’re gone.

Akira steps in beside him, pressing his hands into the railing and heaving out a long weary sigh. “I was hoping...you’d find someone so you wouldn’t have to be alone. Or you’d...I don’t know, give me a sign or something that you’d be okay with it. But you’re so fucking stubborn. You’ve never even given Sumi a chance. You avoid her like she’s poison. You’re the only one who still calls her by her last name —”

“—That’s not true. Today, I —”

“— You grit her first name out like it was killing you. She’s my fiancé now and I’ve chosen to live the rest of my life with her. Please. You’re my best friend, my only family. I want you to be a part of my life still. Our life. Help me make this work.

“I’m so sorry this is causing you distress, but please don’t leave now. Please don’t distance yourself from me. I know you’re probably already thinking about how to do it. It kills me when you do that. Do you really want us farther apart? I know I don’t.”

Akechi turns slowly, unable to look Akira in the face, so he stares at the ground, at his sleek new shoes.

He can see him there, his tall and lithe silhouette framed by the golden lights from inside. They shine behind him, lighting him up like he’s some godsend from heaven. But really, it just feels like he’s a demon from hell. Sent to torture him. To test him. To cause him the ultimate pain.

“If you want a family, you should have a family,” Akechi whispers. “Kids. And a wife. You’d be the perfect husband, the best father there could be. Every year we’ve lived together, every moment you’ve been there for me is testament to that. You’re a protector. You have a heart of gold. You’re the best person I know. That’s all for you, Akira, and you should take it.”

“...Goro.” Akira takes a shaky breath. “What about you?”

“What about me?” He whispers back. “I’m not a part of your marriage, like you said.”

“But —”

Akechi shakes his head softly. “I’m not mad you didn’t tell me. I understand why you didn’t, I can be unreasonable.” He takes in a deep steadying breath. “Can I see it though?” He says. “Can I see the ring?”

Akira hesitates and then, slowly, steps forward, holding the box out.

It’s Akira’s mother’s ring. Akechi knows it well. It sparkles in the party’s glow. There is no elaborate story behind it, no special tale, it’s just his mother’s ring. Akechi takes the familiar delicate weight into his hand and feels Akira’s warmth sewn into it, this singular piece that even all the money in the land can’t buy. It’s more than perfect.

Akechi used to play with it as a child. He was the one into things like that. And Akira’s mother was so pleased to show it off, she’d pluck it from her finger and hold it out into the light above the two of them.

One day, she used to tell Akechi, grinning cheekily right at him. One day, Akira will present this to the one he loves most in the world. And it will be the best most consequential night of his life. You’ll be there, won’t you?

It probably was just some cheap thing, it isn’t like they had a lot of money even then. But, in sparkling awe, Akechi watched the ring as she slipped it onto his ring finger. It was too big for him then, hanging off his pudgy little finger, but he so naively believed she was talking about him. There was no question in his mind. This will be yours one day, it seemed like she was promising him. Akira and his heart will be yours.

He really believed it too. That was the thing. Anything he’d dream up would happen, so why shouldn’t this too? His robots, his machines, his technology, his job — all things he didn’t really care much for, they all fell into his lap no problem. And Akira was right there, closer than anything, it should be easy. He told Akechi he loved him all the time, so why wouldn’t it work? It was the one thing Akechi wanted to work.

But it didn’t happen. All the money in the world. All the hopes. All the dreams. Akechi would trade it all away for Akira in a heartbeat. But he’s apparently the one thing he cannot have.

This ring. This stupid ring. Akechi watches it on his finger and feels his stomach sink. It fits perfectly, like it was made just for him. So why...?

This ring. A symbol of Akira’s rope around another. Of his desire to tie another person to himself, an invitation to step into his own world with him, step into his own future, side by side. A gift that’s irreplaceable, that has meaning, history tied right into the core of Akira’s big heart.

It was supposed to be Akechi’s. But, oddly, for some reason he just can’t figure out, it wasn’t handed to him. Akira doesn’t want any of that with him.

If only he wasn’t born this way. If only he was curvy and soft and beautiful, like Yoshizawa. If only he had the right fucking genitals. The right hole to fuck. Maybe then, their lips could’ve met and Akira would feel that brightness he speaks about with Yoshizawa, but never with him. Maybe then, in that high school parking lot, Akira would’ve reached into Akechi’s pants and liked what he felt on Akechi’s body. And Akira would’ve been so happy by his side that he wouldn’t have even noticed Yoshizawa standing there that day. This future that Akira’s stepped forward on, another leap away from Akechi, they could’ve made it together. Maybe Akechi could’ve seen that elusive light too, but all there is is darkness.

Seven years. He thought, as long as Akira wasn’t married, maybe there would be a way. Maybe Akira would finally realize he can’t live without Akechi either. He’d dump Yoshizawa and come back to him. Akira built his house beside Akechi’s. Doesn’t that mean something? Doesn’t anything mean anything...?

Everything is meaningless.

Akira’s watching Akechi, holding his breath, waiting for what he’ll say. Akechi looks up and watches him back.

There’s hope in Akira’s eyes. Vaguely, Akechi wonders about it. What does Akira want from him that he hasn’t already taken? He could have whatever he wants from Akechi. Akechi would drop to his knees right now and be whatever Akira wanted, whatever was in his power to be. Does he want a hole? He could be that. Does he want to just use him and toss him away? He could toss Akechi to the floor and just come on him from above. Akechi would do that, he wouldn’t complain, he’d like it for Akira. He would. He’d do anything for him. That’s Akechi’s hope, at least.

But then he realizes.

Akira wants what he’s always wanted when he was alone and afraid and crying, in the dark. He wants Akechi to take him gently by the chin and whisper softly to him that everything’s going to be alright, of course it is. There’s nothing to fear, because nothing has to change. Akechi will always be here for him.

Akechi’s the last of Akira’s family. He’s asking for permission. Permission to leave. Permission to go. While Akechi stays, in case he needs him.

Don’t leave. Don’t leave me. You stay right where you are. Love me, while I go.

Akechi draws in a broken breath, blinking his eyes quickly as he looks out and away. Because he knows he can’t deny Akira. He has to give it, he has to be the one to do it too, because he’s the only one left who can. Permission to leave him. Permission to rip out his heart and throw it away.

He can do that. He has to do that.

“It’s beautiful,” Akechi whispers, voice breaking. “It’s... I’m glad. I’m so happy. I’m so happy for you.” He’s breaking down. He can’t stop. He can’t hold it in anymore. He can’t even fake a smile.

Akira’s expression crumbles and he steps forward, hands going out for him. “Goro...”

“Don’t,” he chokes. He rips the ring off and shoves it back at Akira, turning quickly to step as far away as he can. “Don’t. Please. ...Please. Just. Pretend for me? Pretend I’m being a good best friend for you. Being normal. And happy. I’m happy for you. You just...go inside and enjoy the rest of your night with your fiancé and go home tonight and don’t think about me. Keep me out of your mind. You deserve that. I want that for you.” His eyes are so blurry he can’t see anything anymore. “I’m happy for you, I am. Of course I am. Because I love you. Like...like family would. I love you. So I’m happy you’re happy. I’m...happy. ...Please, Akira. Please, believe me. Believe me and go. Just go.” He hangs his head, shivering violently all over. “I don’t want you to see me like this... Please just go now, before...”

Akira starts crying too. “Oh, Goro. No. I’m not going to just leave you like this! I knew it. I knew this is how it’d be! That’s why I didn’t want to tell you, I didn’t want to think about it. What can we do to make this easier on you? There’s got to be something I can —”

“Just GO.” He wheezes, curling over the railing. He’s going to be sick again. “GOD. You’re asking and I’m telling you!! I’m telling you right fucking now! GO.”

“I don’t want —”

“— Why do you always have to do this to me?! You have no idea!! You’re so fucking oblivious!! You come in and tell me you love me and you need me and you can’t live without me and then you throw me to the fucking sharks. FUCK OFF. For the goddamn both of us!! Before I say something I really regret! Go. GO. I’m begging you. Just GO. NOW!! NOW, AKIRA. GO!!!”

Akira does not go. He steps forward, hand on Akechi’s shoulder. “Please. Just —”

“Akira, stop. You’re killing me!’

Akechi just wants what everyone wants. Can he really be faulted for that? He wants peace. He wants a moment to breathe and think and mourn, he has so much to mourn, and Akira’s crowding him. The one who hurts him most in the world won’t stop touching him, won’t stop stabbing into him over and over, right through the heart, asking why it hurts so much. And he needs a moment. Just one moment. A moment he can’t get by asking, by begging, by screaming for it. He’s in agony.

He snaps his fingers. Loudly.

And Akira stops touching him. But it’s too late.

“I hate you,” Akechi breathes wildly. He presses both hands over his ears and stares blankly, wide-eyed at the cars parked below, muttering and spewing vitriol. “I hate you, I hate you, I hate you, I hate you. I don’t want you. I never even want to look at you. You never meant anything to me. You betrayed me. I gave you everything. I never turned you away. I always did whatever you asked of me. I was your brother when you needed it, I was your partner when you wanted it. And, in return, you hurt me more than anyone else ever could. Over and over and over. You never cared about me. You’re a liar. You lied to me. You betrayed me. I thought you loved me. You tricked me into thinking it and you didn’t, you don’t, you never did. I hate you for that.” He cries. “I hate you. I hate you.” He sobs, collapsing into his arms. “I HATE you. Why...? Why did you do all this to me? Why couldn’t you just love me? I loved you... Why couldn’t you love me back? What did I do wrong? I did everything I could. I’d give everything to you, you know that, don’t you? But it’s not enough. I’m not enough. I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I’m sorry... I’d give anything. Akira. Akira. I want to fucking die. I wish I’d just fucking die...!”

“Goro,” Akira breathes behind him. “Goro, I... Stop. Stop. God.”

Akechi sobs silently into both hands, collapsing all his weight into the balcony railing. He wishes he were alone and Akira was inside. On top of everything today, Akechi now has the guilt of ruining the best night of Akira’s life, marring and pulling it into familiar darkness, like he apparently always does, unlike fucking Sumi. He really should’ve never come. Why is he so stupid? Why didn’t he figure it out? He doesn’t understand why Akira even asked him here. What’s the point? He isn’t light, he’s darkness. Cold, grey, disgusting, worthless darkness.

Gentle hands touch the tops of his shoulders, nudging him from hanging over the railing. They turn him around carefully, like he’s breaking.

He can’t stop crying. “Why can’t you just leave me alone —”

The space between their faces closes. Soft lips press deeply into his.

Akechi blinks, tearful eyes flying wide.

“Goro,” Akira breathes into his mouth, voice shaking. “Oh, Goro.” And he leans in again, kissing him deeply.

It’s been a long, long time since that day in the parking lot. This kiss is nothing like that. It isn’t grey at all, it’s golden. The static shadowed memory of the car has so much weight to it, so much shame, but now, light cracks through the dusty image, breathes new life into its cemented walls. It’s love born in the form of familiar breath. It takes residency in his chest, nestling in the welcoming holes of his soul, completing him, healing the battlefield in him.

Akira’s kissing him.

It’s Akira’s hands that tangle in the hair along the nape of Akechi’s neck. Strong hands that used to be so small and fragile — they now hold Akechi afloat in the flood. From his fingertips ghosting across Akechi’s skin, warmth spreads throughout his cold body. All the pain, all the misery, the rejection, the heartbreak — it’s sucked right out of him, like Akira’s mouth is pulling the venom from his wounded veins.

Akira’s kissing Akechi like he’s always imagined he would: open mouthed and hungry. Pinning him with such mad desperation and want that Akechi can feel deep in his heart how irreplaceable he is. It feels like his brain chemistry is changing. There’s so much want pressing into him, like Akira’s trying to shove them into one so they can never be apart. Like they’ve just found each other again after decades of agonized longing and solitude.

Heat curls into heat. Slowly and tenderly they melt into each other. They melt into the kiss that was always meant to be.

After so many years, after decades, they’re home.

Akira moans deep and guttural into Akechi’s mouth, sounding like a crazed animal in heat, and it’s startling up close. Dirty.

Akechi’s the first to pull back, touching his shaky fingertips to the heat of his swollen lips. With wide eyes, he flicks his gaze up to Akira, uncomprehending. Everything’s changed. “Akira.” He whispers in shock.

Maybe it’s him, not Yoshizawa. Maybe Akira chooses him. The ring doesn’t seem so poisonous anymore.

In a dazed swoon, Akira pulls back. His eyes are dark and hazy. He stares down at the hand that had just curled around the back of Akechi’s neck, that drew him in close, gripped hungrily into his scalp. And it doesn’t seem like he understands. “...What?” He spreads his fingers wide as he stares at them individually like he’s never even seen them before. There’s so much confusion in his face. He looks out of control. And...

“I...I dunno,” Akira mumbles, brow creasing. His other hand rests on the small of Akechi’s back but he pulls it away quickly, like he’s been burned. He nearly trips over his feet as he stumbles back. “Fuck, I — I don’t know. Goro, I...”

His eyes snap back to Akechi’s. They hone in with accusation. What did you do? He doesn’t say it.

All at once, like a bucket of ice water dumped over his head, Akechi remembers. He got so caught up in his own misery that he forgot his own design. He snapped his fingers. He’s doing this. This isn’t Akira at all.

Their kiss, bright and brilliant and hungry — it was not on purpose. They’re in that car again, in the high school parking lot, Akira scrambling out of Akechi’s lap, hand slapped over his mouth. Akechi’s been fooled by his own eagerness — again.

“Oh, god,” Akira breathes, clinging to his stomach. “No. I kissed you. You didn’t — That was me.” He says it with such shock. “I didn’t mean — What’s wrong with me?”

Akechi draws in a sharp breath, stung. He lowers his eyes to the floor and tries to swallow down his shame. What’s wrong with him, indeed, that Akira might actually want Akechi in this way?

He lowers his hands to his sides and takes in a deep steadying breath. Akira’s panicking. He needs to be responsible.

Akechi steps forward, touching a hand to Akira’s arm. “Akira,” he says slowly, like he’s talking to an injured animal. “Take a deep breath.”

“I kissed you,” he wheezes lowly, slapping a hand hard over his mouth. The sound cracks through the night like violence.

Akechi thinks of the parking lot. “...No one saw.”

“What?! Who cares about that?”

“I— Everything’s okay —”

“How can you say that?! Nothing’s fucking okay!! SUMI.” Akira cries and, before Akechi can say anything else, Akira turns and throws himself at the door, gone in an instant.

The two heavy doors smack closed in Akechi’s face, sucking the volume of the party away. He’s alone again. It’s just the cool night air and him out here. And though it seemed so cold only moments before as he cried over the balcony, Akechi’s body now boils with heat, with life.

He presses his fingers to his lips, staring into the night, numb with shock.

...Akira kissed him. Like two shadowed silhouettes through his curtain, he grabbed Akechi by the shoulders, buried his hands into his hair, and licked into his mouth. His body pressed up against his, pushing him into the balcony railing with want, with need.

Akechi has imagined it. Countless times.

He’s imagined himself set against the yellow of Akira’s bedroom light. Akira’s face so close that Akechi can’t see him, he can only breathe in his heat, can only run the side of his cheek against Akira’s skin, grab him and grind his body against him. Akira would allow it — he’d crave it. He’d lower Akechi to the bed, bodies pressed together, and he’d watch him with black desire and tenderness in his eyes. He’d spread Akechi’s legs. He’d take him. Akechi wouldn’t let anyone else but Akira do that.

So many years of having to see it all play out through that lonely glass window, Akechi pitched in blue darkness, locked on the wrong side of that golden curtain. Tonight, Akechi is the other silhouette. And it feels...wonderful.

It was only a moment, but what a moment it was. It was...heat...like licks of fire carving through his heart and invigorating his mind — is this what Akira is always talking about? The light that Yoshizawa supposedly holds for him? This brightness — it’s taking over Akechi, making him feel crazed with it. Is this what it’s like to be loved? Burning hot white light razing out all else, pushing all the black gunked up tar out from his mind and making room for something else. Something brilliant, something better.

Akira touched him.

It doesn’t have to matter how the moment came about, the feel of Akira’s want pressed to Akechi’s flesh was real. For that wonderful moment, there was no pain or loneliness. Akechi was just who he’d always wanted to be. Not some boy genius, not some creator, not someone made by his tragic background. He was Akira’s Goro, only Akira’s. And it was so heartbreakingly wonderful.

I want you, Akira had said. With his own hands. With his own mouth. Akira. Wanting him. Wanting Akechi. It’s possible.

...He has to find him.

A torrent of sound and bright energy washes over Akechi as he pushes his way back inside. Everything’s still going full-force. Confetti falls into his hair and golden balloons harass his face. He doesn’t register either.

Deeper into the crowd he delves, seeking out that familiar raven-colored head of hair. He turns urgently, spinning through gold and red, through grinning laughing faces, but he’s being tossed about at sea and he has no idea where to look first. Yoshizawa?

Bright red glints right beside him and he turns, looking into two identical frowns.

“There you are,” Kasumi says, her ballgown dragging behind her. “Are you alright? You ran off so quickly and I...” The longer she looks, the more concerned her face grows. “You don’t look so good. Here. Why don’t you come sit down? We’ll get you some water.”

“Wait.” Yoshizawa’s no longer smiling. “Goro, have you seen Akira? He said he wanted to make sure you were okay but that was a while ago. He promised me he’d be right back... I can’t find him.”

“He found me,” he murmurs, distracted as he looks over their heads to continue scanning the crowd. “I lost him.”

“Ryuji said you two were fighting about...well, about...” She bites at her lip and looks beneath her lashes up at Akechi, like a kicked puppy. “Was it, um...about...me?”

He heaves a sigh and runs his hand roughly through his hair. “No. No, it was about me. It has nothing to do with you.”

Yoshizawa watches Akechi uneasily. “...Then what was it about?”

“The parking lot,” he murmurs, shaking Kasumi’s hold off of his arm and disappearing into the crowd again.

“Wait. Akechi!” Kasumi calls, but Akechi ignores her.

Akira’s upset. He wouldn’t be meandering through a party, unless... Maybe that’d be the best place to hide because it’d be the last place that Akechi, infamously crowd adverse, would find him. He can fake happiness well enough if his main goal is to avoid Akechi. But if he’s just avoiding the noise, he’d be away from everyone.

Akira wasn’t mad at him specifically, was he? He looked down at his own hands in shock, not at Akechi’s. So he’d want someplace quiet, someplace safe as he fell apart.

Akechi steps around the chair bordering the staircase off and ascends the steps until the hustle and bustle of the crowd becomes non-existent. The second floor is completely silent, still. Akechi looks down the hallways, at the plush red carpets, the deep mahogany panels and bookcases. He gazes over the white marble statues displayed in glass. He wouldn’t know the first place to look.

“Akira?” He calls through the corridors.

“...In here.”

Down the hallway and around a corner, there’s the door to a large intricate study. Akira sits on top of a desk inside. His back is turned as he stares out of a tall stained glass window, looking up into the moon.

The lights are soft, only old fashioned oil lanterns and Tiffany lamps. Akechi walks slowly, unsure if he’s welcome.

“It’s her dad’s study,” Akira says, voice monotone. “Look at the stained glass. They commissioned a world famous artist for it. Cost half a fortune and they still messed up the face. Nothing ever turns out how it’s supposed to, does it?”

“Akira,” he says cautiously. “...Are you alright?”

“What do you think?” Akira says lowly, voice dark and loathing.

Akechi walks in closer, crossing his arms tightly over his chest. He leans his neck forward, tilting slightly to get a look at Akira’s face. He’s completely drained of color. There’s no fever there, only shock and mortification, the exact opposite of how Akechi feels.

Akechi gives a weak self deprecating laugh, “who knew my touch could have such a reaction?”

“It isn’t funny. I just proposed,” Akira says softly, staring blankly through the glass. “I just proposed to my girlfriend of seven years. And I’ve cheated on her within the first five minutes.”

“Akira...”

“I love her. No one forced me to propose, I wanted to. I’ve been wanting to! This was supposed to be the first night of our lives together, joyous and monumental and I...fucking...cheat on her. I’ve cheated. Me. On Sumi. I don’t understand. I don’t think I’m a bad person! I’ve never — I would never — I’ve never even thought —”

“You’re not a bad person and you didn’t cheat,” Akechi says firmly. He leans his hip carefully on the edge of the desk. Akira doesn’t move away from him, which he takes as a good sign. “It was nothing. It was hardly even a kiss. It was cold and shallow and...you know, all those horrible things, right?”

Akechi always watches Akira closely, but he watches him even closer now. The twitch of the corner of his mouth, the way he presses his lips together just so, the conflicted discontentment shooting through his eyes at that. Did he feel what Akechi felt? For once?

Akira’s voice shakes. “Was it...?”

Akechi stares. “I...” He swallows hard. Runs a hand through his hair again. “I don’t understand what the big deal is. We did more when we were younger and she already knows about that.”

He laughs, high and unstable. “Okay. Once is an accident! Twice is...twice is...” He shakes his head quickly, like he’s trying to toss it out of his brain. “We’re in her childhood home, Goro, surrounded by all her family. They think I’m a good person. They like me. Boy, do I have them all fooled. What is wrong with me? I’m a cheater! I’m a fucking cheater!” He wheezes hysterically. “God! How did it come to this?! I-I don’t know what happened. I’ve never felt like doing that to you before... We shared the same bed for ages and you slept half-naked under me all that time and I even tried to like it, I tried to want you, but it never meant anything like that and suddenly I just... I just... I’m so confused.”

Akechi lowers his gaze as Akira pants breathlessly. Akira tugs at his collar roughly, trying to get more air. When that doesn’t work, he undoes the collar and tosses it away with an angry growl. The button’s open. His chest shows. Akira looks so devastatingly good all dressed up and disheveled like this. The red of his suit brings out the stark pink of his cheeks. He looks messy and loose and so easily pinned down.

But all Akechi can think of is all those nights they slept together as kids, as teens. How affected he had been every second of it. A naive starry-eyed child, laying his head over Akira’s chest, bright and awake late into the night, thinking how lucky he was to be so close. He definitely had impure thoughts more than he didn’t. Thoughts he acted on in secret, wondering if, one day, they might be reciprocated. Hoping. Believing. How shameful. How rotten a memory. How disgusting being him.

“Fuck,” Akira wheezes, hands gripping into his face. “It doesn’t make any sense! It just came over me like a fucking freight train. It was so unnatural.”

Akechi raises his eyebrows.

“No, not like that. Not the gay thing. It’s not that. I swear it isn’t. It’s just this need... This...this feeling, like...like when you’re starved for something. For days. For weeks. And it gets worse and worse and worse and you start losing your mind. You lose your sense of shame, of carefulness, because you have to have it. It was like that. Suddenly, I couldn’t breathe without it. Like I was choking for it... Like air.” His eyes are wired and haunted. “It was terrifying. It wasn’t...it didn’t feel right.”

“What’s it?”

Akira’s eyes go wide. “...I...” He swallows hard, the prominent shadow of his Adam’s apple bobbing against the soft velvet skin of his throat. He touches his finger’s there, lips parting.

Need. Desire. ...Two silhouettes pressed against the light of the curtain, shucking off their dress clothes and tangling into one. Wild and rabid with need. Him...and Akira.

“What is it, Akira?” Akechi leans in closely and whispers.

Akira snaps back to himself, hand clenching into a fist over his chest. “Um. I don’t — I’m not gay,” he whispers urgently, holding Akechi’s gaze with determination. But it looks wobbly, uncertain. Fake. He glances away first.

“I never said you were,” Akechi says. “I’m just trying to get to the bottom of this. Same as you.”

Akira’s shoulders loosen slightly and he sighs out relief. “Oh... R-right. I don’t know. I don’t know, Goro. It was so strange. There you were, upset, and I was worried about you. Really worried. And then, materializing out of nowhere, I just...” He trails off, running his fingertips back and forth over his lips again, picking at the fullness as he gazes off in overwhelm.

“Perhaps this is just a manifestation of that worry. Nothing more.”

“Maybe...” Akira whispers into his fingers, looking carefully back at Akechi. “I mean...I was really scared. I don’t think I’ve stopped being scared. You didn’t mean that earlier...did you? That you wished you’d die...?” Akira’s eyes are crystal, beginning to shine and glitter with overwhelmed tears. “Because...because that’s not right. That’s not... Goro, that one time, it was so bad and I — I... Oh god, it feels like I can’t breathe. You’re not going to, are you? Not again. You, in that bed... You didn’t mean it, right? You didn’t mean you wanted to die...?”

Akechi, feeling calm and sane at this specific moment in time, lies smoothly. “No. It was just something to say. I suppose you’re right about panic making you lose your mind. It was just...dramatics. You know I’m good at that.”

Akira bites at his lip as he desperately searches Akechi’s face. “Dr. Maruki. You still see him? You’d tell him if you weren’t feeling right?”

“Of course. I do.”

“And your meds. You said you had to up them recently. You said that. What if you’re having side effects from the new dosage? Oh, Goro, what if —”

“Shhhh. You don’t have to worry about me, Akira. Look at me, I’m completely sane,” he says smiling crookedly, giving a playful little tilt of his head, showy and silly.

“...Now you’re just lying,” he murmurs, voice dragging, but he gives a faint smile back. “You’d tell me, though, if it was getting bad again? If you...if you wanted to...you know...do that.”

Akechi gives a slow careful nod.

“Good... I’m glad...”

“Forget about me. We’re talking about you. That feeling that came over you earlier — how is it now? Can you still feel it?”

Akira shakes his head hesitantly, but he looks down and away, as far from Akechi’s as he subtly can. “What do I do? About Sumi. How do I tell her?”

“You don’t,” Akechi says sharply in surprise. “Why on earth would you? It was nothing.”

Akira gawks in shock at Akechi. “It wasn’t nothing! How could you say that?”

“It was! You’ve said so yourself a million times. What else could it be with someone like me? Grey and unnatural and vomit-inducing! Touching me, even for a second, makes your skin crawl with horror. Why on earth would she have to worry about that? I’m disgusting to you.”

“...I never said that. I never meant it like that. It wasn’t you, it was —”

“Look. I understand, okay? The bottom of the matter is that cock doesn’t turn you on and that’s what I have. End of story. So, whatever that was on the balcony — your humanity or your anxiety or whatever...maybe you just wanted me to feel better or something. God knows how your mind works. But you don’t have to tell her. You’re not even interested in me.”

“Not tell her? Goro.”

“I’m not saying lie; just don’t tell her. It’ll only hurt her to know. It won’t help anything.”

“That’s lying. We don’t do that to each other. I mean, do you and I? I don’t want to be that kind of person.”

Akechi is growing irritated with Akira and he doesn’t even know why. “Too fucking late, you’ve already just shoved your tongue down my throat. I felt your cock — it was hard and wanting against my leg. Mine!” His voice breaks. “You already are that kind of person.”

Akira jaw drops open.

Akechi groans and backs away. “Sorry. I’m sorry. I know you didn’t mean it, that’s what I’m trying to say here. It was just...hormones. It wasn’t you! ...How could it ever be you? Just leave it. Whatever dark fucking force it was: never speak of it again and neither will I. It wasn’t anything.”

“Of course it was!” Akira cries, agonized.

“You —! Listen to yourself! You’re the one who has always said it wasn’t. You hated it! You made me feel so — You don’t just get to change your mind whenever you feel like it. One second, saying it was the worst fucking kiss you’ve ever had and I taste like a dead fucking corpse —”

“— I never said that —!”

“— Which is a real confidence booster, thanks for that. And then the next, it affected you so much you need to confess to the whole entire world! Well? Which is it? You’re infuriating. Whichever way suits your story the most, that’s what you’ll tell. You’ve always been like that! Like a spoiled fucking brat. You can’t always have it both ways, you know. No matter how much you’re used to getting the best of both fucking worlds without caring about the fucking cost put on my head. You can go merrily scamper off to enjoy your fucking life while leaving me to pick up your pieces!! Just like you always do!! Always!! Ever since we were kids. It isn’t fair to me! YOU’RE never fair to me!!” He roars. Looking into Akira’s crystal clear wide eyes, Akechi realizes himself. He takes in a quick breath, realizes he’s about to pop, then turns sharply, pushing himself off the desk’s edge.

“Goro,” Akira says in a small voice.

Akechi’s panting. Closing his eyes down, he places his palm over his beating heart and feels it thrum angrily against his skin. It hurts. It may just give out. He wishes it would just give out.

“...You okay?” Akira whispers.

“Fine. I’m fine. I’m just...” He takes his hand off his heart and flicks his bangs out of his face. He drags his posture back up, tight and straight. “It doesn’t matter. Do what you will. Yoshizawa is yours, after all, and you know her best. I have no part in your relationship. This whole conversation is just... I have no part in this.”

“You’re mad at me.”

“I just need some air...” He runs his hands through his hair and gives a weary shake of his head. He turns away and out, drawing his finger across the table as he goes. Pristine. “Look. Congratulations, alright? Go back to Yoshizawa, go celebrate your accomplishment, forget about all this. Please. For me. I’m going to call Arsène to come pick me up. I need to get out of here. I’m not thinking clearly. I need to re-center myself before —”

Warmth wraps around his wrist, hesitant and quiet. “...Goro. ...Don’t go.”

It’s the way Akira says it. It draws the blood straight out of Akechi’s face. Don’t go, like he’s beloved. He’s never actually felt like that before, not like this.

This tone... Like he’s needed...

Akechi draws breath in tight. And he holds it. Counts to three. Tries to clear his head. Tries to disengage. The warmth curling around his wrist and locking down tight is inescapable, but he must escape it or...

He’s far too old to be believing in fairytales. People like him never gain anything unless they’re giving up something of greater value. And what about the cost? What more can he possibly give?

But...when he feels heat press against his back, curling into him, how can he possibly resist it...? Always so weak to the thought of being loved, he’ll even take scraps. Even if they’re tainted in false victory. Maybe especially, at this point.

Because it’s Akira.

“I’m sorry,” Akira whispers as he leans the weight of his forehead into the back of Akechi’s shoulder. He laces his fingers through Akechi’s and squeezes him tightly, until the circulation begins to cut off. “I lied. I lied. It hasn’t gone away...”

Akechi’s heart thumps wildly in his throat. “Akira,” he says lowly in his throat, a warning.

His grip goes tighter. Possessive. A puff of soft breath against the back of Akechi’s ear: “I want you. I want all of you. In the worst way.”

Akechi gasps. He can’t help it. He gasps for air like he’s been punched and then it shudders out. It’s a whole body reaction, a reflex to the thought, a weakening. And, without even meaning to, he sinks backward into Akira’s hold. Akira catches him and draws him in close, like he’s precious, like he means everything to him. And that’s even more startling.

Akira says shakily, “If you leave, I’ll die. I just know it, I can feel it, deep within my body. I’m burning up from the inside out and it hurts.”

“Yoshizawa...” Akechi swallows hard. “She...”

“Nnn...” Akira mumbles, giving his head a quick shake. “I know we shouldn’t. I know. But... Doesn’t make sense. Can’t...can’t think. Can’t...”

“You hate it,” Akechi tries to say, but it barely makes it out of his mouth. His hands come back for Akira’s, warm soft velvet beneath his fingertips. Is this another dream? “You hate touching me. I-I’m cold and...and...”

“No.” He buries his nose in his neck and inhales deeply. “Oh, Goro, no,” he says in a small voice. With both hands, he grabs at Akechi’s stomach, kneads into the cloth like a cat with claws. Hooks into his skin so he can take him. He can take all of him.

“But you...but you said...”

Akira cannot seem to breathe. He hunches into Akechi, lungs jerking unevenly. He shudders on his exhale, voice guttural and broken. “Hot,” he whimpers in a small voice. “Hot. Really...hot. I...want...” He breaks off, gasping. “Can’t stop it... Trying... I can’t... Can’t.”

“Akira...?” Akechi breathes faintly, trying to keep his voice even, but he’s losing his mind so quickly. Reasons not to... He seemed like he wanted to convince Akira, but why? He can’t remember why anymore.

Akira’s breathing too fast, he’s shaking too hard.

“...Talk to me. Wh-what’s going on? Is this...is it another panic attack?”

Akira whimpers, shaking his head in Akechi’s neck quickly. His grip goes tighter around Akechi’s middle and he groans, almost sounding like an animal, low and tortured.

There’s something thick and intoxicating in the air. It makes Akechi dumb, makes him reckless. This could be so bad. It probably already is. What if they’re caught? What if Yoshizawa walks in right this instant and sees? Akechi sunken into Akira, Akira mouthing and feeling him up with tortured desire. Touching his body... Fighting it, but unable to stop. He can’t stop. More animal than man. More a bottom than a top.

Akechi gives a soft delirious laugh.

He’s drowning. He’s drowning into that heat. Is this what Maruki meant? Some strange ocean come to infect his mind? The fever that makes each one of his nerves ache with sensitivity. He’s sinking into it further, thinks it’s that familiar black hollow, but Akira’s there when he opens his eyes instead.

“You’re not cold, you’re warm,” Akira whispers into Akechi’s ear, like a siren on the ocean’s dark waves. He dips his hands down Akechi’s torso, skims over the tops of his thighs. Searing heat. “I’ve always thought it. You have so many icy walls up, but beneath? At your core? You’re still that boy I grew up with, soft and sweet and full of such beautiful hope and care for others. You haven’t changed at all. You’re not cold. You’re not grey. You’re beautiful, Goro. You’ve always been beautiful. And you’re mine. All...fucking...mine...” His claws dig in.

Wet heat swallows the side of Akechi’s neck and he draws in a sharp shocked breath, startled. He can’t even make sense of what it is at first, until he hears the soft moan of Akira’s mouth beneath his ear.

Akira’s kissing his neck.

He’s kissing his neck.

And sure, Akira’s kissed his neck before, but never with this intention. It was a peck. With a laugh. Just...monkeying around. But this...it’s so foreign. He’s being so serious. Akira licks up the side of Akechi’s skin and that slick heat, that deliberate strong contact, it brings fire, brings lightning, brings meaning. It isn’t an accident, it isn’t play. It’s fierce and aching. He means it.

Akira runs both hands over Akechi’s waist, looping his thumbs behind his back and squeezing. He sighs in satisfaction. “You’re so thick.”

Akechi sputters in surprise. “Thick.” Yoshizawa is not thick.

“No, I —” Akira chuckles and groans. “Sorry. No. I meant you’re looking healthy again... You’re filling back out.”

Akechi gives a low groan. “Is this your idea of foreplay? Calling me fat? You really are terrible at it, aren’t you? God, you’re hopeless.”

“I’m not,” he laughs softly. “I’m just happy. You’re all tan and golden and muscular. The way you’re filling out your suit... You look so good like this, Goro... You look so good...”

He does?

Akira hums and his hand dips lower, sliding down into the slit of his pants. Akechi draws up, pressing his weight back into Akira, reflexively giving him access. He feels like he’s fifteen again. He doesn’t mean to offer himself up so eagerly, like an innocent, but he’s never been touched like this before and it’s so new, so startling. His face must be a blank dumbfounded mask, showcasing his incompetence, his innocence. And he’s not sure how he feels about that.

He’s fifteen again, in that parking lot. And Akira’s looking at him and...

Through the heated fog, two scenes open up to Akechi.

One, bathed with blinding light, he sees the rapture. He sees Akira’s body in his. Sees them as one. The Velvet Room, Akira twisted up in its hypnotic swirl, bound up in his sheets, eyes warm and satiated, staring only at Akechi, wanting only him, legs spread wide for him, holding his throbbing cock, paralyzed for him... Waiting to be taken to Akechi’s heart’s content. Bloated and filled only with Akechi’s cum, oozing from his holes... Completed.

And, in the next, Akira broken. Sobbing into his hands, shuddering at the thought of betraying someone he loves, losing the good parts of himself. She’s like the light, he says. There’s Yoshizawa, eyes wide and heartbroken as Akira explains what he’s done, head down in self-loathing. The why he doesn’t even know, because it wasn’t him that did this, not really. But he’ll never know that. He’ll always blame only himself, never fully understanding he was never to blame at all.

Akira’s fifteen again, in the parking lot, telling Akechi all the reasons why he cannot do this.

Akechi swallows hard, shifting against Akira, split into two. He tries to breathe in the evening’s cool air, tries to clear his head so he can do the best thing. What’s the best thing? Ever since he was a child, he’s always wanted to do what was right, but his love and infatuation for Akira are so strong, he’s still drowning... He can’t see above the surface. Can’t breathe. Can’t think.

Desire. Heat. Akira’s cock rubbing up against his thigh, up and in, like he’s already searching for entry.

Yes...yes.

“Akira,” he murmurs faintly, arm coming up to rake through Akira’s soft hair. It’s softer than he’s dreamed. It soothes all the agitation and tension out of his torn body. “Akira, I...I don’t know...dunno about this... You always said —”

“Shhh, no, no, no,” Akira groans urgently. He rocks his hips forward to give Akechi a preview of his cock again, digging deep into the muscles of his back, hard and full and ready. “I was dumb, I was so stupid! I need you. I know that now.” His hands hold tighter as Akechi squirms out of his hold and turns around. They leave red marks across his skin.

Akechi sinks back against the desk and stares up at Akira, who’s looking at him with dark desperate eyes. He’s sweating, the light in his face a bit wild and unsteady. Waiting, but not patiently, very eager. He doesn’t even look like Akira, really. Just some sex crazed maniac seeking his next taste. He isn’t fifteen anymore either, in so many more ways than one. He doesn’t have his own opinions anymore.

Akechi must be strong. Because he’s taken away Akira’s strength from him. Akechi, Akira’s greatest shame.

Akechi can feel the heavy beat of his pulse against his jugular, so ripe and eager to be tilted back for Akira to devour. And he wants it. He wants it so badly. Almost as badly as Akira himself. “We...we shouldn’t. For your sake, Akira, we can’t —”

“— Something’s happening inside of me,” Akira blurts out, leaning into Akechi so their faces are hardly an inch away. There’s an intensity in his eyes Akechi’s never seen before. Crazed black oceans. “It’s like on the balcony. It isn’t pity. It isn’t anxiety. I don’t know what it is, but it’s so strong. Stronger than any of that. Stronger than any other part of it. It feels like it’s taking over...” He tosses his eyes up to the ceiling and draws in a shaky tight breath. And another. He’s tenting his pants badly, his erection a giant bulge in between them. Akechi looks down at it, hesitant. “It’s happening again. So strong. It’s so strong. Can’t think...I can’t think. ...I’m scared. I’m going to die without it...” Akechi can see him twitch beneath his slacks. “Really die. What do I do?” His hands are shaking, eyes pinpricks as they latch onto Akechi. “Goro, help me. I’ll do whatever you say, but you have to help me! What do I do?!”

Oh god. What indeed?

In the far far dark distant corner of his mind, Akechi hears something whispering, insistent. It’s his own voice, weary and broken, the one that used to be so good. Don’t. Don’t do this... But it sounds so defeated, like this is its last stand. It sounds dead already. It’s the voice that wants to slip off the astral observatory. It’s the one that’s splattered red against the starburst on the floor. It’s sheet white, shaking, and it’s been sick for so long with no one else to care. It doesn’t have a hope, it’s already been tied up and drowning at the bottom of the ocean. It’s dying and there’s no saving it. Why would anyone want to save it?

Akira doesn’t. Akira doesn’t even see it.

The voice does not seem alright. What’s it worth to anyone? To Akechi himself?

Akechi stares at Akira. No, it doesn’t feel right, it feels like an offering. From his genius. From all the work he’s put into this world without getting anything he wants back. He never has. The world is so empty. And Akira’s standing in front of him, hard and wanting, begging Akechi to fill the empty space in his heart. ...In his body. Akechi’s so tired of his black heart feeling this way. He wants that light too and he knows now, he’ll never get it any other way.

Akira stands there, waiting and frightened before Akechi. Just a hungry needy animal who’s scared and needs saving. With shaky hands, Akechi reaches forward, touching his fingertips to the whisper edge of Akira’s deep red suit. He can be that savior.

Akira draws in a sharp breath, eyes fluttering closed as he goes still in tense anticipation. His lips part. His neck sways to the side a bit, baring that soft sweet pulse point, waiting for Akechi’s next move. “Wh...what do I do...? ...Goro. What do you want me to do?”

He’s dressed in red, just like their special room. Akechi wonders if that had any part in Akira’s decision, subconsciously. Fall into it. Deep deep down.

Akechi slips his thumb into the rich fabric and tugs, watching as it draws off Akira’s shoulders. Long lithe arms reveal beneath, wrapped in tight black sleeve garters.

Akechi’s eyes go dark as he takes him in. Even though he’s seen Akira’s body a million times, it’s never been like this, not even in the dungeon. This is willing, this is eager. The desperate wet bulge in Akira’s pants says so.

Akechi claws at his waistcoat, twisting it up between his fingers. “Let’s find you relief,” he breathes heatedly into his ear and that’s somehow his answer to all this.

Akira’s jaw drops — in shock? — and he gasps out loud.

“You look so good. When I first saw you this evening in that rosewood colored suit, I wanted you... God, I wanted you more than anything. Wanted to take you right in the car. Slip the back of your pants down and press up into the soft heat of your body to stay.”

Akira groans, drawn out long and foreign. The relief rumbles low in his throat. “Goro.”

“Would you have let me...? If I’d done it in front of all of them, tried to hide it, but I’d be bouncing you in my lap so hard. Delivering you pleasure... What would you have done if you’d felt me sneaking my way inside your body? Would you have wanted me?”

“Yes,” he whispers, neck falling back further, gaze flicking over to him. “YES.” Who is he? Akechi barely recognizes him. His eyes basically glow golden with his smoky heat.

With a sharp tug, Akechi strips off Akira’s garters and takes him by the tie. He twines it around his fingers, giving the thick cloth a sharp tug into himself so that Akira’s face is forced closer.

Akira gasps loudly, mouth dropping in torturous feeling. He stumbles into him and sinks forward. His hands reach shakily for Akechi’s waist, but he thinks better of it at the last minute and slides them down to the desk on either side instead. It’s the perfect pose. Surrender. Worship. Mercy.

“You’re doing this, aren’t you?” Akira breathes in wide-eyed disbelief. “Oh, my god. You’re really doing this... You...you’re really going to fuck me, aren’t you? Please. Oh, please, Goro!”

Akechi gives his tie another tug, commanding and sharp. He waits until Akira looks up into his eyes and he stares back into him. “No regrets,” Akechi whispers to him, locked onto his pupils, the window into his soul. He watches the shadowed hollow evenly. “I’m a person too, Akira. And you can’t just —”

Akira nods eagerly, eyes flicking down to Akechi’s lips hungrily. “Yes. Yeah. Yes, Goro. Anything.”

Permission. Start. Go. Longing sears through Akechi at that knowledge, but a vision of Akira in the car still seizes him, Akira backing out of his lap, uncertain, a flitty glance. Watching Akechi warily like he’s a thing. Cold, dead, grey.

“Promise me,” Akechi whispers as he stares into Akira’s erratic gaze. “Promise me you really want this. You really want me. Because...”

Another eager nod. “You! Yes. Yes, yes, yes. You. Oh, Goro, please,” he says, low and urgent. He presses his fingers to his bottom lip, can’t stop staring at Akechi’s with wide fascinated eyes. “Please, please, please, you’re killing me. I can’t take much more of this. Touch me.”

“So demanding, aren’t you...? But who gave you permission?” With his other hand, Akechi yanks Akira by the hair on top of his head, pulling in two different directions. “Not me.”

Akira’s jaw drops further and a long groan falls from his lips. The weight of his head falls back into Akechi’s grip as his neck rolls. “Ah — harder —!” He breathes, high and free. Just being handled by Akechi excites him. The rougher he jerks him around, the more Akira reacts, bright blush on his cheeks.

The tie tugs, his hair pulls. Akira whimpers piteously. His lip is trembling. “Good...” He breathes in total ecstasy. “So good.”

“God, look at you,” Akechi breathes in bright delight, eyes gleefully drinking up Akira’s reactions. “...You’re actually a huge slut, aren’t you?” He gives a light laugh. “For some reason, I hadn’t expected that.”

He tugs Akira’s back again, drinking up the long fulfilled moan that happens because of him.

“You hadn’t really shown much sign in The Bottom Maker.” Akechi releases him and Akira’s head falls forward with a soft, relieved groan. “Obstinate as you were. And your Sumi seems so...vanilla.”

“What?” Akira breathes hazily, eyes unfocused as he drags himself weakly up.

“Nothing, Akira,” Akechi tugs up on Akira’s shirt, ripping it over the top of his head. “Nothing at all.” He digs his fingers into Akira’s naked back as he draws his posture up. He’s a whirlwind around him. “Your pants,” he breathes, hands going down and raking up his thighs. Long firm chords of muscle. “Up. Stand up straight.”

Akira grabs onto Akechi’s shoulders for balance. He’s weak and swaying, groaning lowly. He looks dazed. He shakes his head lightly, touching a hand to his temple, but his eyes remain empty.

“You like when I handle you?” Akechi breathes in awe, tapping Akira on the bottom of his jaw to lift his head back up. “You’re shaking. That’s how much I’m affecting you... You want me... Me!” He gives a sharp high laugh.

Akira looks up at him in hazy confusion, fingers stopping over his half undone belt. “What do you mean?” He says it like it should be obvious. He’s so horny he’s forgotten any trace of incompatibility. Akechi nearly implodes.

“That’s right, Akira,” he breathes eagerly. “You want me, don’t you? You really do. You want me inside of you.”

“Yes,” Akira whispers, eyes still confused. “...Of course.”

“Cock! You want cock! My cock!”

“Yeeees? Goro, what?”

Akechi bursts out laughing. He cannot believe he’s being allowed this. He’s a fucking genius, after all!

It’s taking too long. He bats Akira’s hand away from his belt, but his own fingers aren’t as deft and capable as he always imagined they’d be. He’s that clumsy teenager again, eager and awkward — desperate, grossly so, trying to figure out something as simple as how pants ever worked.

Akira doesn’t seem to mind. His erection stays healthy and obvious, bulging against the very seam Akechi is struggling with. He makes small sweet noises each time Akechi misses, fingers swiping over the hardness in his pants. “Ah, god... That feels good.”

Akechi looks up in surprise and stares. Akira blinks innocently back. “What?” He whispers.

And he’ll never get used to it: Akira liking him like this. Akira looking at him like this, with his hands tugging at his belt. Experimentally, Akechi thumbs against Akira’s bulge and a bolt of delight sears through him as Akira groans openly, shifting his hips forward to chase the feeling Akechi gives him in.

“Yes. Like that. You feel amazing. Touch me. Touch me.”

“That’s it, Akira...” Tentatively, Akechi grips onto his outline through the pants, feels the heavy girth pressed against his palm — the shape of him, stunningly new, like it’s the very first time. He’s going to scream.

“Goro,” Akira leans in to beg heat into his ear. “Stop teasing me and touch me already. Really touch me.”

Akechi can hardly hear him. He keeps tentatively massaging Akira over his pants, in awe over this. It’s so...beautiful.

In agony, Akira groans. He’s impatient too and he won’t wait another moment. Akira grabs at his own waistline, sending his pants dropping in a heap to the floor. He quickly steps out of his boxers too, kicking them aside.

And then Akira’s just...standing naked in all his glory in Yoshizawa’s father’s study, facing Akechi. Lamplight glows warm and golden over his skin, casting soft shadows, lighting his pupils up in a dance of flame. Vulnerable, ripe for the taking.

Akira lets Akechi look. He must see the shock and undiluted want all over Akechi’s face. He stands back slightly, leaning back against the desk and watching him watch him.

Akira tilts his neck, baring it again, like he knows that’s one of Akechi’s weaknesses. It is. Oh, god, it is. He’s so long and lithe, like a little mischievous fairy from the forest, come to seduce and take Akechi away. And Akechi will let him. He’ll follow him so willingly, give him every part of him, no matter the cost. He’s shaking too. Akira is so unbelievably beautiful. He’ll get to his knees and bow if he’d like it.

“God,” Akira says softly from beneath his breath, eyes glinting in the lamplight. He gives a gentle chuckle through his nose. “The way you’re looking at me, I’d say you were a virgin...”

Akechi swallows hard, but he can’t take his eyes away.

Akira gives a small even smile, his nails rapping the top of the desk with a patient eyebrow lift. “Goro. Can I —?”

“Not yet,” Akechi whispers. This moment is so rare, so precious, he can hardly dare to breathe and disturb it. Akechi’s eyes rove slowly over his naked form, lips parted in awe. This perfect body of his: the surreal balance of definition and softness, of delicate strength, of careful elegance and casual beauty.

Akira’s cock is hard and plump between his legs, the massive shadow of it flickers through the lamplight over his thigh. Such a beautiful thing, somehow looking so different in this context, out of the harsh mind bending illusion of The Velvet Room. Akechi didn’t see then, not like now.

Without the chaos and feral heat of the dungeon, it looks healthy, it looks winning. Akira is feeling it. He knows Akechi has a cock, and still. He’s erect. He’s aroused. Wanting sex. From him!

With a breathless laugh, Akira recrosses his legs delicately, a faint dusting of blush gathering over his cheeks, over his usually pale ears. Crossing his legs does nothing to hide his cock, only enhances the artistic vision. It bobs gently, so mouth-wateringly enticing.

“...Goro. ...Are you done looking at me yet?” Akira whispers, pressing his lips together tightly as he looks to the side and away. He’s embarrassed. Shy.

When Akechi can do nothing but continue to stare dumbly, all the blood far from his brain and trapped in his engorged cock, Akira has to say it firmly: “Goro. Come on... I need you, I need you now. You can look at me however much you want later, I promise, but —”

“...Yes,” he breathes. And the spell is broken. He steps forward and presses himself to the front of Akira, bending him backward over Yoshizawa’s father’s desk. He doesn’t fight at all. He goes down pliant and limber.

Akira’s hard beautiful cock digs into Akechi’s body, the softness of his torso, the long line of his thighs. Akira makes a soft surprised sound at his suddenness, his arms falling down to the desk, to anchor himself there.

Akechi brushes everything aside, swiping the documents and paper weights off. Shoving away the picture frames. They clatter to the floor in a tumble. He places Akira in the center, the most important work to do.

Akira closes his eyes down with immense relief. “Oh fuck yes,” he whispers thickly. “Fucking finally. Just like this. Fuck me. Oh! Wait! Wait, wait, wait! I just — Idea. My mouth. Use my mouth, Goro.” He groans and re-opens his eyes. They’re different now: wired and crazed, a frenzy of odd heat. He opens his mouth and points eagerly to it like Akechi doesn’t know what the hell a mouth is. “Here. Put your cock here. I want you to do that. I need to know the heat of you, the weight of you on my tongue...” He slips his hands down between them, tugging insistently at Akechi’s belt. “Oh, Goro, let me do that for you...! I’ve been having dreams of it lately, very very vivid dreams... Such nice dreams. Your voice low and soft weaved throughout it, on loop, soothing through my mind. Of waking in the middle of the night to you on my chest, already crammed down my throat! Oh, god, I could feel you throbbing inside my throat as you forced me to take it. And then you’d come and I’d drown on it all.” His eyes go wider, manic. “I’ve had dreams of being woken up tied up on my stomach, you pinning me down and cramming your fingers into my mouth to silence me as you secretly fucked me beneath the sheets, so quietly...so quietly...as Sumi slept right there. I couldn’t even move, couldn’t protest, just took it. Just took it from you... Took whatever you gave me. As you snuck in to take my body in my bed... Oh, Goro, whenever I wake up after that, I think of you. It’s so exhilarating... So new. I want to come just like that... Fuck me just like that.”

“Shh, shh...” He presses a finger to Akira’s rabid mouth, silencing him. He stares down at his face, bright and feverish and delirious. There’s nothing behind those eyes, none of his usual cleverness or his calm analytical soul. It’s just scrambled black. Open empty dark pupil. Akechi doesn’t know if anything Akira’s saying is anyone’s truth at all, but it feels so genuine. Maybe it’s Akechi’s truth spoken through Akira’s lips.

Akechi taps his finger to Akira’s lips playfully. “I’ll give it to you if you’re good.”

Akira grunts, tilts his face back, and licks up Akechi’s finger, curling it around and taking it into his mouth before beginning to rabidly suck. He rolls his hips up, bucking into Akechi’s own erection aggressively. It feels like a very big fuck you.

But Akechi will take it: the heat in Akira’s mouth is amazing. The quick indulgent way he sucks and massages his tongue over Akechi. Slick, in the best way. Akechi carefully curls his finger just to see what happens, but when Akira groans and bucks his hips, Akechi startles and retracts his finger quickly like he’s afraid it’s going to be bitten clean off.

Sex is dangerous, isn’t it? Who knew.

“...Can you be good?” Akechi laughs breathlessly, eyes wide in awe. “You’re terrifying.”

Akira writhes beneath him, mouth gaping open. “Yes! Yes, yes, yes. So good for you. I’ll be good for you. Just touch me. Just do something. God, you’re so slow. I’m in agony. Pure agony. Oh god...!”

He looks like a whore. Like an honest to god whore. He isn’t Akechi’s Akira at all. Where’s his charm? His careful strength? His sturdy presence? It isn’t here. This is only a hungry hole, split wide legs, a delirious grin on drooling lips. No care is here. No walls. He just needs and offers up his services and that’s...sort of wonderful.

Who cares if this is the best thing for them? This slut for cock sure doesn’t. Who cares if anyone sees? Yoshizawa, her dad...whoever. Maybe this beast would get off more if they did.

Oh, fuck, what if he did...?

Akechi kicks the chair out of the way and climbs on top of Akira, hands pressed on either side of his head. He leans in and dips his face into Akira’s cheek, smelling up his hairline.

He’s so cute squirming and complaining beneath him like this. Akechi watches him like a shark over his prey, smiling into his warm skin as Akira’s lashes flutter downward, glaring.

“What are you doing? Fucking tease. You’re not going to touch me at all, are you?” He pants, hand on his chest as he pinches at his own nipples, rolling them and giving breathy gasps. “Fuck. That feels good... If only I had someone else to touch me like this...”

Akechi’s smile deepens into his cheek. “I might be teasing you a little,” he laughs into his skin. “I like how desperate you get so quickly, you’re so cute like this. What’s waiting a few more minutes to me in comparison to the decades I already have? But you’re not used to it. ...You’re so used to instant gratification. Want and be wanted... Touching yourself so desperately...needing it faster than you’re getting it. Like a whore. Is that what you’ve been all this time? I had no idea... So wonderful discovering such new things about you, Akira, when I thought all along that I already knew you like the back of my own hand.”

Akira gives a violent buck upward, crotch crashing against crotch.

A jolt of bright white hot sensation sears through Akechi’s body and he gasps, head cracking back slightly. He sees stars in the ceiling. Honest to god stars circling overhead. “...Akira.”

Akira gives a very smug smile. “...What was that about being cute?”

“You’re the cutest,” Akechi grins down because he knows it’ll irritate him. “Like a little teddy bear. We could put a little bow on you. Tie it to your curls. ...Tie you up. Your arms, your ankles, your mouth, your cock. Press you down, so helpless and sweet and cute and take you until you’re begging me.”

Akira groans and laughs all at once. “Begging you for more or for less?”

Akechi hums as he runs his hands up Akira’s ribcage, feels the soft breath caught into his palm. “Doesn’t matter, I think. As long as I get to hear you beg.”

This time, Akira groans. “You’re such a fucker.” He slips his hands out from his chest and wraps them around Akechi’s back, doing the same with his legs, twisting them around Akechi and caging him in. He pulls Akechi down to lift himself up and says softly into his ear, “You said you’d give me your cock. Don’t lie to me, Goro, and give it to me already.”

Being caged within Akira’s desire is better than anything Akechi’s ever felt, better than anything he’s ever dreamed. He almost can’t even think. “I said...I said I would if you were good. And you’re...you’re being so bad... What to do...?”

“Mm...fuck you...” Akira lets his neck go slack, lets his head slide off the back of Yoshizawa’s father’s desk, baring his neck to Akechi. He tilts it slightly, exposing the elegant pale column to Akechi’s face. “I’m dying. And you’re having fun killing me. Literally killing me — ah —!”

Akechi takes one from Akira’s playbook and licks up Akira’s dainty collarbone. He paints a strip up to his jawline, tasting the salt and deep musk that comes off his skin. It hazes up his mind, makes him feel so stupid, so he buries his face deeper in and kisses his neck rough and dirty, biting and scraping whichever side and divot he can take, greedily stealing what he can get from him. It infiltrates his mind. This has to be how Akira feels on The Bottom Maker. Changed against his will, but loving it. His hands dig into Akira’s hair to yank him in deeper, kiss him harder. Pure bliss. A buffet.

Akira’s back arches up off the desk to press himself deeper into Akechi’s hold. He grinds his cock against Akechi’s crotch, gasping sharply with each dirty roll. He whimpers, noise trembling in his lungs. “Good,” he says weakly. “Good, Goro... Just what I wanted...”

Akechi bites and digs in. “Me too. I’ve always wanted to taste you. Always wanted to know the heat of your skin like this.” He dips his tongue along the length of his neck again, drawing another strip up, sucking hard behind his ear. “You’re even sweeter than I imagined.”

Akira groans to the sky, both hands pulling back at Akechi’s hair. Akechi slips his hand down, grabbing Akira by the tip of his penis and Akira’s head thumps back into the desk with a hard thunk. He bends into Akechi’s touch, mouth open, but wordless.

“Does that feel nice...?” Akechi asks. He rubs at his delicate skin hard, circling his fingers around his wet head and giving a firm pinch. Wetness beads. “Akira? Can you feel me?”

“Mmm,” Akira whines, eyes clenched tight. He rests his hands palm up at the side of his head, like he’s surrendering. He lifts his chest just slightly and spreads his legs wide.

Oh. If that isn’t clear...

Akechi stares into the sight in pure awe. Akira’s encased in shadow, difficult to see, like a god to mortal eyes.

“What is it?” Akechi whispers into his ear, eyes locked on to that secret spot. “What do you want? Use your words.”

Akira struggles to articulate as Akechi’s hand squelches over his cockhead.

He gives a nice slow twist under the edge of the head, that spongey softness pliant and caving beneath him. “Hmmm? Akira...? My Akira... Can you still hear me? Can you think like a human being? What is it you want from me? You have to say it or I won’t know, will I? Then how will I be able to give it to you?”

“Y-Your cock,” Akira gasps. “I want your cock. Please.”

To hear that... To be commanded to give that...

Akechi stares in shock for a few moments more. He just can’t believe — and then he wraps his palm around the entire girth of Akira’s cock, taking delight in the way Akira’s eyes flutter down and he parts his lips to pant breathlessly.

“Goro,” he murmurs weakly.

He’s oozing down the side of his leg. Akechi presses his thumb back into the pool of it and watches as Akira’s face shudders and his mouth drops open into an ‘o’.

“Mmmm!” Akira moans helplessly, fingers twitching over the papers beneath him, digging in and wrinkling them beyond repair.

This is Yoshizawa’s father’s desk. These are his things they’re using as placemats for their first fuck ever, set beneath Akira’s naked body to collect the fluids that leak off their skin. The man’s important documents are getting shoved around and ruined. And there’s something so satisfying about it all. About dismantling Akira over the man’s private space. It isn’t like he hates the man, not really, but he doesn’t necessarily like him either, he had his hand in bringing Akechi’s truest enemy into this world, after all. And stripping his future son-in-law where he sits most often and taking him...taking him so well that Akira begs and celebrates it...well, that sounds pretty good to Akechi.

Akechi tugs harder, drawing a sharp cry from Akira’s core that fills up the man’s room, whole and warm and desperate. Then he does it again. And again. Because fuck Yoshizawa. Fuck this family. It’s possessive. An additional way to claim him. To re-write all the wrong that’s been happening, a way to say no, I reject your decisions. Akira’s Akechi’s, not Yoshizawa’s. He’s always been Akechi’s... Hear him cry for him...? This is proof.

Akira’s his dirty little whore.

Lewd wet squelching fills the air as Akechi jerks Akira off harder. He’s getting overstimulated, his eyes are going odd and wired. His hips pull up off the desk and thump back down on each tug. Akechi stands over him, staring down through dark eyes. Does Akira look this way for Yoshizawa? For all the girls that came before her? This vulnerable? This wild? Like a feral animal. He looks scared. That seed of choked desperation in Akira’s eyes — that’s new, Akechi can tell. It’s so new it frightens him. And it’s Akechi who gets to devour it. That’s so sweet.

Akira gasps, eyes wide and sightless at the ceiling. Gasps again, rasping it out. Out of control. His hand slaps back. His sob is broken and uneven.

Familiar.

Akechi watches him for a moment longer, debating, before he unwraps his hand from Akira’s cock and places both gently over Akira’s hands instead. They’re still clawed into the desk at his head. Akechi undoes Akira’s painful grip and twines their fingers together, holding them tenderly, waiting, watching.

Akira pants beneath him, catching his breath. His lips are wet and red. His eyes droop, only half open, too soft. Akechi gives his hand a little encouraging squeeze and Akira gives a faint squeeze back as he makes a soft noise of confusion beneath his breath. He didn’t even notice himself just how worked up he’d been getting.

“You looked a little overwhelmed,” Akechi explains softly. “Close to a panic attack.”

“O-oh...” He keeps panting. “Did I...?”

“Mm.”

“I...I guess you’re right. I feel...” He waves his hand through the air unevenly. “It’s...it’s a lot...” Akira’s face is so red, his eyes so foggy.

“Being a bottom?”

Akira swallows hard. He shifts a bit so his head stops hanging so far back over the end of the desk. “I-I dunno. I’ve never...felt like this before, so I don’t even know why... It’s odd. Frightening. It’s so strong... So consuming. Like it’s telling me to give in. I don’t know what it is, but I feel like I’m going to lose myself if I do. Like I’ll forget who I am if I let go...and never come back...”

Akechi’s swallows hard as he stares down at his prize. “...I see...” He murmurs, guilt curling in the familiar spot of his gut. “That sounds horrid, honestly. We don’t have to, you know, if it’s that terrible.”

“No,” he breathes out in surprise, eyes bright and grey again. “That’s the thing. It’s so warm and wonderful. Pure comfort. So easy to give in to...” His eyes flutter a bit as he lulls. “It’s just...I dunno. Wanna give in... But I...what will happen..? Wanna...mmm... Let you...put your cock in me... Cock...your cock... But...? Uhhhh...” His eyes cross slightly as his mouth hands open, dumb.

“It’s alright,” Akechi promises. He brushes Akira’s hair back soothingly, thumbs his lips closed. “It’s alright to give in to that feeling. It isn’t dangerous if you’re with me. You’re mine. So I’ll always pull you back up, after. No matter what.”

“Mm... Yeah...?” Akira murmurs, tilting his head to the side and looking up at Akechi. His eyes are only half there, silver, but dull. He’s having a difficult time keeping them focused.

“Yeah. Just sink into me...” He pauses to think. “We can switch too, if that’d be easier for you. I don’t mind. Whatever you’re most comfortable with. I just want to be with you.”

Akira licks his lips and looks down at his own body in question, but he doesn’t seem to be able to come up with any answer.

“It’s alright, Akira, don’t think. I’ve got you.” Akechi grabs the seat behind him and pulls it up. He sits and wheels himself in, staring down at Akira’s susceptible pose. He runs a hand over Akira’s thigh soothingly, watching each little hair on Akira’s leg stand up at his touch. “It’s okay. We’ll take it slow.”

Akira notices his pose too and he tries to sit back, putting his foot on the armrest of the seat and anchoring himself to get up.

Gently, Akechi slides a hand onto his warm belly and gives steady pressure, holding him down, sending him back. “No,” he says. “Let me inspect you a bit. I want to see you. You rest.”

“O-oh,” Akira murmurs, settling back over the desk. His face and chest begin to pool red, his ears. “Really? Um. I feel exposed.”

“You are, aren’t you...?” Akechi is closer to Akira’s genitals than Akira is. He looks down in between Akira’s legs opened up over his lap. They’re so close, a meal on a plate.

Akechi holds Akira’s thighs apart and stares. He stares at this magnificent gift. Akira, of his thirty-year-crush-Akira, is splayed out, stripped naked, with his cock hanging out into Akechi’s lap. His to seize, to own.

Akechi slides his hands down and in to play with it a little, wrapping his fingers around him just to get a feel. He’s seen his cock before, glimpses of it, throughout their lifetimes, but never this up close. He wonders if anyone has seen it this up close, honestly.

He tilts Akira’s cock this way and that, gazing over it with an analytical eye. Akira is very beautiful. Akechi already knew this, but honestly, this is just unfair. His cock is such a pleasant shape. Such a gentle sweet pink at the tip, like a very juicy delectable peach, that turns into a nice porcelain shaft. A white peach, then. Snow angel. Akechi lifts it up so it’s pointed at the sky, noting how Akira’s whole body twitches and how he gasps slightly, head still tilted back over the desk.

Akechi flicks a glance up. “No one’s ever done this to you before?”

“No??” Akira chokes.

“All fools. What’s new?” He opens the drawers in the desk and looks down the line of them, seeking a measuring tape. He finds one beneath a set of folders and takes it out, pulling it out with a loud click and running it parallel to Akira’s shaft.

“What are you doing?”

“...Hm? Measuring.”

His voice pitches only higher. His eyelashes flutter as he blinks wildly through his legs to see. “Measuring?! What for?!”

He pulls the tape measure in and repositions it over the spongey head. Vertically. Horizontally. “Just to know. Why else?”

“Goro! What the fuck?” Akira moans in mortification. He kicks his shin against Akechi’s torso.

Akechi laughs breathlessly and shoves his foot away. “Seven inches long. I knew it.”

“You knew it?”

“Not fucking bad, Akira...” He leans in and smells up the length of his cock before pressing a quick kiss to the head. “And it smells like you. A potent version of you. I wonder how you measure when you’re flaccid. Have you checked?”

“Oh my gooooddd...” Akira groans, slapping a hand over his face. “Goro, I swear...”

“Do you think you can calm down enough to...?”

“No. God. No! Look at me!” He tosses both hands down to frame it.

His cock has only gotten redder and veinier from all the handling, filled and eager in Akechi’s palm. It twitches, little jumps like it’s nervous but horny itself. Akira agonizes over the table as it does it. “This is so weird. I’m mortified.”

Akechi chuckles, ripping a piece of paper from Yoshizawa’s father’s notebook and scribbling down Akira’s measurements. Shaft, head, combined. Width, length, circumference.

Seven inches. Akechi is very pleased. Seven just so happens to be Akechi’s favorite number too, if it wasn’t already perfect enough. “That’s good enough for now. It looks like all this attention gets you going though... That’s funny.”

“God. You’re lucky I like nerd. Fucking weirdo. Measuring my cock, who does that?”

“Shush,” he snorts, flicking a fond gaze up at Akira’s tomato red face. “We’ll finish it up later. Get you hot and bothered that way again. Think you can come just from being looked at? Would be an interesting experiment... Measure you to completion.”

“Goro. What the fuck. That’s not sexy at all.”

Akechi gives Akira’s thickened cock an amused little flick. “Sure it’s not. Let me know when you want to put that to the test. We can bet on it, if you’d like. But just really quick...”

Akechi uses his other hands to draw up Akira’s balls into his palm, gently thumbing over the delicate thin skin. He’s so hot in his hands, so perfect... He grabs the measuring tape back up and wraps it around his testicles. Individually first, and then, together.

“Goro,” Akira growls, popping up on his elbows with a scowl. He lifts both legs and starts roughhousing, trying to wrap his shins around Akechi’s head and put him in a bind. “Enough already! What’s next? The size of my —”

“You look like my cocks.”

“What?”

Akechi gives a small distant smile as he stares lovingly down at Akira’s package, completely oblivious to the feet in his messed up hair. “...I have a collection of dildos at home. I always thought they looked freakishly perfect, you know? But looking at you... Akira, I... I don’t even know what to say. Sitting here, being allowed to see this...” He takes a deep steadying breath and taps soothingly at Akira’s foot that slides down to his shoulder. “You’re more beautiful than any of them... You’re more beautiful than fantasy. Than the height of creation. I can’t believe how perfect you are.” He rolls him in his palm and holds him up close to his cheek, pressing their precious heat into his skin.

It’s Akira’s cock. It’s his deliverer. This is his DNA, what will pass on his lifeforce to the next generation. This is how he’ll plant his seed on this earth. From a distant and not-so-distant viewpoint, it’s his most important body part. And he’s letting Akechi play with it.

Akechi tilts his face and places a soft kiss to Akira’s balls. So warm. He likes their shape. Likes how deep and heavy the scent of them is. How the heat radiates so strongly from them and over his tongue.

“Goro,” Akira mumbles breathlessly, legs shifting again in awkwardness. “You’re staring again. You have a very intense stare.”

“Mm...so beautiful...”

He chuckles slightly, voice small and in disbelief. “You like me that much...?”

Akechi sighs dreamily, handling Akira’s cock back so it rests over his belly. He leans his chin into his hand as he grins back at him. “I just want to know you... Every part of you. You’re very important to me, so I want every minute detail. Every change in complexion, every crease, every wrinkle. ...Look at your cock,” he says gently, gazing back down at it with utter fondness. “Oh, Akira... Look at you. Everything about you is perfect.”

Akira’s cock gives a mighty twitch, flopping an inch off his belly all on its own and falling back down.

“You like that?” Akechi whispers, drawing a fingertip along the inside of Akira’s soft thigh. “You like me looking at you? Like me analyzing you?”

Akira twitches again. His toes curl as he presses down into his feet, his hips jutting up slightly in a restrained fuck upward. He slides his foot down Akechi’s arm and lets it hang over the table. “Yeah... Yeah, I like how much you like me.”

He chuckles lowly, twirling the tip of Akira’s penis around his finger and watching it give another twitch toward him. He smiles and leans forward, licking it. “Good boy.”

“Goro,” Akira groans in embarrassment, but he’s laughing. “Please tell me this isn’t for science. You’re fucking killing me.”

Akechi laughs warmly, giving it another soft suck. Oh, god, it’s better than he thought. He’s halfway in a dream. “...It smells like you. I mean, I know it is you, but... It’s the same scent in your neck. It’s just...concentrated. So fucking concentrated.”

“My neck smells like balls?” Akira groans, throwing a hand over his face.

“No. Your neck smells like sex.”

Akira stares at Akechi in a daze, lips parted. “...Okay... Alright. Come here. I-I’m calm now, okay? No more panic attack. I need to come... I feel...really built up. Your weird staring is doing it for me, I’ll admit it. It’s getting painful. And you’re...you’re smelling my balls. When you could be wringing them dry instead.”

Akechi grins and leans down to do just that. He presses his lips to one, letting the tip of his tongue skim over it tenderly.

Akira gasps. “D-Do your science thing on me later... After I’ve come. You can dissect me or whatever, but please. Make me come first. Fuck me. It really hurts.”

“Mm...” Akechi drops Akira’s cock to his stomach and slides his hand down his groin and down, lower. He angles his hand through the center of Akira’s legs and touches the tip of his finger to his hole. Soft. Tender. He taps it. “Like this?”

Akira jerks then, with his entire body, giving a sharp gasp. “Goro!” Scandalized, this time.

Akechi chuckles in gentle amusement, circling the hole, using the tip of his nails to rake softly around the band of muscle. “I thought this is what you wanted.”

Akira makes an odd little noise, like a groany shudder. “...Y-yes, but I... My... No one’s ever...”

“Really?” He smiles patiently. “But you were just screaming for me to fuck you. And you’ve never even done it before? Funny.”

Akira’s breath hitches and both legs twitch inward, like he’s reflexively trying to protect his precious soft center. “Mm.”

Through the tight band of muscle, Akechi begins to press in.

“FUCK,” Akira breathes. “Fuck!” And he jerks his thighs together.

“What is it?” Akechi draws his finger out. “Are you okay?”

“Yes. Yeah...fine, I just...that...” He starts to laugh. Throws his arm over his eyes. “Oh my god, you’re right. All that trying to convince you in and then... That surprised me. That...that felt odd. Very odd.”

“Bad odd?”

“No. Not at all. I...it was...I’ve never felt anything like it,” he whispers, an excited tremble in his voice.

Akechi gives a soft laugh and places his hands on Akira’s shins. “...I don’t know if we’re going to manage this, after all... Are we both too nervous or what? Are you the virgin actually?”

“Shh,” Akira chuckles faintly as he lifts his arm off his face and resituates himself. “It’s okay. It’s fine. ...Let’s keep going.”

“You sure?”

“Yeah. ...Yeah, I need it still.”

Akechi scoots in more, using his other hand to reopen Akira’s legs. He realizes that Akira’s completely naked and he’s completely clothed. And while he’s seated calmly in the chair pulled up to the edge of the desk, Akira’s laid over it like a prize, like a meal, being manipulated and given over. Measured and analyzed. No wonder he’s nervous.

He’s in such a vulnerable position, just like a sex thing. And god, no, he never could be, but just the thought of it... Just seeing Akira here, presented like this, his legs and hole given into Akechi’s lap, hanging over the edge purely for his viewing pleasure, allowing Akechi to inspect his penis, his cunt, his genitals, his everything as he sits still for him, staring up at the ceiling and waiting for him to finish. So incredibly raw...as he just lays there over his fiance’s father’s desk...and takes it. He looks like a project to complete of Akechi’s, a job to be done. Work to be finished.

And he is.

Doesn’t such a good toy deserve a reward? Akechi thinks so. He slides his finger in to the knuckle.

Akira startles. “Ah!” His head slams back into the table as his back bends.

Akechi’s eyes go bright.

As Akira’s body contorts, he slides deeper over Akechi’s finger, goes tighter, sucking him up higher. It seems like an accident. His mouth pries wider as he continues sliding down. “AH. AH—!”

If this were any other time, maybe Akechi would do this right. Maybe he would ease Akira in carefully, like he said he would. It’s only his second time, after all, and he thinks it’s his first. The sensations are wholly new, odd, shocking. Akechi would gently loosen those tight unpracticed muscles of his hole and work up finger by finger.

But Akechi has been starved of this. He’s mad with thirst, with hunger. Akira’s legs lift slightly in again, protective again. Akechi uses his other hand and the end of his elbow to pull Akira’s legs back down on either side of the seat and he holds him open.

“Mm!” Akira clamps his lips together tightly. “Mmmmgoro,” his voice is strained. “Goro, it’s a lot. S-slow down a little. Slow down.”

“Hurry up. Slow down. You are certainly hard to please. Take a deep breath.”

He takes a thin wheeze. “I’ve never done this before,” he babbles. “I’ve never — It’s... I don’t think I stretch that way, after all.”

“Of course you do. It’s your muscle that’s tight, not your skin. I can feel it clenching hard. You need to relax.”

“I am. I’m not doing it on purpose.” Akira takes a very small, very stressed breath and then grunts again, holding the air in his lungs. “Feels weird. Not-not used to it. I’m usually — I don’t usually — ”

“Bottom? Shh, shh, I know. You’re alright, you’re okay.” Akechi slides his other hand up Akira’s thigh and wraps his fingers around Akira’s erection. He strokes him slowly, experimentally, watching for the telltale sign of his thighs beginning to relax outward again. “There...” He whispers. “There we go... See? You’re used to this, aren’t you? Familiar territory. Just like through that curtain...”

“Wha—?”

“Nothing, Akira. Nothing at all. Better?”

“Mm...” Akira breathes, eyes closing down as he gets lost in the sensation of being touched. “...Good...”

“Yes, it is. It’s so good.”

“Yeah... Yeah, Goro... You feel...oh. You feel...really nice...” He’s getting lax. This he knows.

Akechi sees his opportunity. Quickly, he slides his finger into Akira’s hole again. Akira makes a clipped stunned noise in the back of his throat. Akechi can’t see his face from here, it’s hanging too far over the back edge of the desk and, as Akechi pushes into his body, it’s shoved even further back. More papers fall, fluttering to the floor. Akira gasps, his ass scraping over Yoshizawa’s father’s calendar. A bit of his pre-cum and sweat smears over it. His legs lift. His fingernails claw in for stability.

It’s just one finger.

“There we go. That’s it. It feels good...doesn’t it...?” Akechi asks soothingly. “Being touched like this. Being full, for once. You’re so used to giving, but isn’t it so nice to just lay back and take too? Take what I want you to have?”

“Y-yeah,” Akira pants heavily. He sounds so sweetly confused as he says it. “It’s...it’s odd. It’s...uhhh. It’s... I feel... Um. Open.”

Akechi watches Akira’s soft body split down there for him. Watches with intense focused eyes. His finger slips into Akira’s body at his own command. Holds inside. Miracles really come true. “You are.”

He begins to pick up the pace. Instead of the small easy ministrations he was doing, working his fingers into the shallow entry of Akira’s tight walls, Akechi begins to pump slightly. He shifts his arm back and then thrusts it in. It changes the way Akira’s body takes it. Instead of an internal massage, light and simple, this forces Akira’s body to open.

The sounds. They become wetter, louder, more lewd. Akira’s legs lift higher up into the air. Akira grips the bottom of the desk with both hands, nails turning white as he holds on. He presses his lips together tightly, soundless.

“And this?” Akechi pants, a wild glint in his eyes as he watches his three straightened fingers enter and disappear into Akira’s private pink hole. Akira’s body stretches, opens to accommodate him. Him. Akira swallows him up and he can’t stay silent any longer, he cries out wildly. He’s so fucking tight. “This. When was the last time you felt this?”

Akira gives a low disjointed sob, weak and dizzy. “Never. I’ve...I’ve never...” He goes to shift his legs and Akechi obliges, flipping him in one firm swipe so that Akira’s shoved to the table on his front.

Akira gasps loudly, giving a sharp cry. Akechi doesn’t stop fingering him roughly. He feels something inside Akira, something sponge-y and he knows what it is, he could cry in relief, and he jabs at it brutally, almost cruelly, like, with each press of this little button, Akechi’s getting vengeance for the years of being overlooked.

Akira’s whole body lights up, energy streaming through him, filling him to the brim and pouring out the ends of his limbs, the tips of his fingers and toes. He screams, each thrust into his prostate earning Akechi a punctuated brutalized sob. “GORO. T-Too much! TOO MUCH.”

He reaches out wildly for anything to hold onto. A picture frame goes on its side and topples to the floor with a loud crack. The wood thumps hollowly with their movement.

“AHh!!! GOro —! FUCk. FUCK!”

“That’s it,” Akechi whispers tenderly, brushing the back of Akira’s hair with one hand as he pounds in with the other. He keeps his attention completely focused on Akira, on keeping him safe, but he drools over the sight of Akira bent over the desk for him, desperate and wild. He jabs and jabs and massages and focuses in on that sponge-y little point. Akira’s legs kick and twitch as he squirms over the desk, slamming one cheek into the wood and babbling nonsense before tossing his head back and wheezing into the sky, body bucking and writhing, humping madly into his newly to be father-in-law’s papers, crinkling them all up with his wet eager cock. His face splats back down, cramming his cheek over filled post-it notes. Probably important. Who knows.

He’s so out of control, beyond even his own, he vibrates and twitches and writhes wildly beneath Akechi, such sweet caught prey.

“Go...ro...!” Akira drools, pupils blown so wide they’re pitch black and tumbling through space. “G-g-g...! Aggh...! G-ack, ggghhhh...!”

“Tell me you love it,” Akechi whispers as he pumps him mercilessly.

Akira cries out and kicks. His hips twitch reflexively in, in, in.

“Do it. Tell me it’s better than anything you’ve ever had. Tell me you want me forever and ever and ever. More than any of your women. More than your fiance. Tell me.”

Akira weeps, overwhelmed.

“Tell me or I leave, Akira!”

“Y-y-y-yes!” Akira gasps, tears mucking up the desk. He slams his fists down, slaps his palms to the wood. Weeps and weeps. “Yes, oh, Goro, oh, god. Oh, stop. Oh. It’s too much. Fuck, it’s way too much. More, more, more. Oooh... STOP. GOD. MORE!! SO GOOD. SO GOOD!!” He madly thrashes into Akechi’s fingers, bouncing like the whore he is. “The best! The best I’ve ever — Oh, Goro! The best I’ve ever had. You’re the best — I’ve ever —! Want you! Forever. And ever. Inside me. MORE. More, more, more!! FUUUCK. FUCK!!! FUCK FUCK FUCk —”

“That’s it. Good boy. Good Akira. You precious thing. Tell me the truth. Tell me.”

“YOU! YOU!! YOU!!!” Akira screams out on each stab.

Akechi closes his eyes and bathes in this feeling, this rush. The pure power. The wet sloshing of Akira’s body over the desk. The way his legs flop back and forth, limp and at Akechi’s mercy, knees banging into the sides of the cabinets. Akira will take anything Akechi will give him and it’s so wonderful. He’ll enjoy anything Akechi forces him to enjoy and he’ll like it.

Akechi pulls his hand out and rubs both palms up the length of Akira’s sweaty hot back. The bolt of electricity cracks back into the sky and the wild tension falls out of Akira’s body in one soft breath. Akira sobs out a groan of relief, long and low, feeling the tacky wetness of his own pre-cum and sex juices smeared over his skin.

He’s pliant and limp. If Akechi didn’t know any better, it appears as if Akira has been filled up with some special paralytic robot cum. The tops of his feet press to the floor, his legs hang down like noodles. He doesn’t even try to move. Apparently, Akechi doesn’t even need the manipulative special cum to down Akira, he just needs three fingers touching his very special weak point. A perfect thing to learn about him.

Akechi flops down over him, his front pressed against Akira’s back, caging him to the table. He leans his weight down so Akira can feel it. So Akira groans and twitches, eyes closed in semi-unconsciousness.

“You liked that, did you? You’re so beautiful like this,” Akechi whispers in awe. “I can see it in your face. You like taking it up the ass. It’s like nothing you’ve ever experienced before and it’s perfect for you. God, it’s just right for you. A perfect fit.”

Akira pants wearily, face squished into the desk.

“What do you like more?” Akechi leans down and sucks Akira’s ear into his mouth, panting and licking up the length of it as he rolls his chest up Akira’s back. He begins rutting up against Akira, his hard cock still buttoned within his dress slacks, but it pokes into Akira’s cheeks, still bent in a perfect ninety degree angle over the desk. “Penetrating...or being penetrated?”

Akira’s pliant playdoh beneath him.

“Akira,” Akechi sings softly. “Answer or we stop... Unless that’s what you want, of course.”

Akira moans. He angles his back up so Akechi can properly rub himself over Akira’s hole. He claws at the desk with a soft mewl as Akechi does so for him. “Wh-what did you just do to me...? What the fuck did you just do...?” He’s breathless, dizzy.

“Why?” Akechi purrs, indulging in the rhythmic creak of the desk against the flooring. “Did you like it? I just so happened to find your special little spot...and pressed and pressed and pressed it. No one’s done that to you before? Made you a pliant little baby maker?”

Akira lets out a strangled sound not so different from a sob. “So good. So fucking good...”

Akechi smiles. “So then. Which is your preference, Akira? Being the penetrator? Or being the penetrated...?”

“...Penetrated.” He says it so weakly, like there’s no strength in him left. Akechi stabbed it out of his special button over and over. “Oh, please. Please... You, Goro. That’s what I need... Use me already... That’s what you want, isn’t it? To use me. Penetrate me.”

“I dunno...” He purrs. “You keep begging me like you want it and then when I start in on you, you act all surprised and shocked...”

“No! I won’t. I want it too. Your cock inside me. Use it...like you were just doing...but your cock! That’d be...insane. Press my button! Please! I can’t live without it. I need it. I need it so badly, or I’ll die, I mean it!” His words are slurring. He sounds drunk and whine-y. “Please, Goro. Please put me out of my misery already... Touch me there. Please... I’ve been thinking about it all this time. Since I saw you on that balcony. Oh, god. Oh, god.”

“Have you?” Akechi hisses, licking up his neck, taking in the sweat and heat rolling off Akira’s body. “The balcony, huh? But that was before I started in on you. That was so long ago... Tell me about it. What did you want about me then?” He crams three fingers up Akira’s hole in one sudden thrust, pressing into his spongey weak point and Akira cries out into the air so loudly that his voice echoes like shattered glass all around them. He goes ramrod straight over the desk.

“GORO!”

“Jesus. Shh, shh.” Akechi rubs gentle circles over Akira’s hip to calm him. “If you tighten up like that, it’ll hurt when I use the real thing on you.”

Akira mumbles nonsense into the desk as he rolls his neck slightly, turning his eyes downward, where their privates meet with only a thin layer of cloth as a barrier. “...How...how big...?” He slurs. “How big are you...? I want to see.”

“What about the balcony?”

“Wha—? What balcony? I want your cock. How many inches...?”

Akechi laughs softly as he runs soothing strokes up Akira’s feverish flesh. “Akira, that’s rude to ask.”

“You measured me. Wanna see,” he breathes again, closing his eyes to Akechi’s touch and moaning again. “Wanna see you. Gimmie the measuring tape... I’ll measure you... Make you come...”

“Hmmm... But I thought you hated cock. I don’t want to give it to you if you don’t fully appreciate it.”

“No,” he groans, neck lengthening back. “Can’t explain it, but... I’ll show you. I’ll show you I’ve changed. I want it right now. Want it so bad... Put it in me. Touch that spot again, Goro. Come on... You know what I want.” He pulls his cheeks apart and shows him, explicitly.

Akechi looks for a long moment and then gazes down to the table at the various important documents. He picks a few up and holds them out beneath Akira’s cock. “Show me first. Prove your desire to me. Fuck my hand over Yoshizawa’s father’s things. Get your pleasure all over his important stuff. Muck it up. And then I’ll consider touching you in your special little place again.”

He expects resistance, wants it even, so he can tease Akira more, make him beg. But Akira doesn’t even hesitate. With his backside to Akechi’s front, he shoves his hands as anchors back into the desk, angles his hips to set his cock down into Akechi’s palm, and begins fucking the paper. It crinkles and folds up with each little thrust, soaking up Akira’s desire. Akechi puts his other hand on Akira’s hip, curling his front around Akira’s back to help him hump his hand with eagerness.

“That’s it.” Akechi’s voice burns in his throat as his eyes pin like razors to the documents. “Fuck up his stuff... Get your cock all over it. Mess all his shit up... Fuck him. Fuck him.”

“G-good?” Akira breathes, a gush of pre-cum oozing out over the printed words, smearing it up. His eyes look at the mess before gazing up hopefully at Akechi. “S-see? See how much I want you? See?”

Akechi tightens his hold. “Mmm... That’s good, Akira. But it’s difficult for me to be fully convinced... I’ve been hurt before, you know.”

“Use me then. Use me and see. Use me all you want. Do anything to me! I’ll take it! I can take it!” His hips start banging forward harder. The paper tears and still, he keeps fucking the hole, messing it up.

Akechi’s lips part as he smiles in elation. “...That’s it. Beg me more. I like that.”

“Yes! I beg you. Beg you, Goro.”

“Mm. More. Beg for it with more passion. Beg for my cock.”

“Goro, please. Goro, please, can you give me your cock!”

“More, Akira. Like you mean it. Beg. Like a dog.”

“PLEASE. I need it,” he sobs desperately. His nails dig into the desk as he rocks it back and forth. He doesn’t even seem to be acting. He shakes his head sloppily, back and forth. “Your juicy fat cock. Need it inside me. Need it thrashing into my hole, fertilizing my body. Touching me deep, make me feel it. Touch me where you just were... Oh, Goro. Oh, god. Then come inside me as you’re pressed in deep into that spot. Deep inside. And fill me up. Give me all your babies. I’ll keep them safe. I’ll hold them for you. Goro, give them to me. I’m begging. Thrust inside and lock into me tight and hard as you come. I’ll take every last drop of you. I need it. I need your cock in my cunt!! FUCK MY CUNT. I’M BEGGING. I’LL DO ANYTHING. ANYTHING FOR YOU. PLEASE!! I’M BEGGING YOU, GORO, I’LL BE AND DO WHATEVER YOU WANT!! SWEAR.”

Akechi draws the ruined scraps of paper up and off Akira’s wet red cock. It’s dripping, a hole torn right through. “Hmm. I like that,” Akechi whispers. He balls it up and tosses it in the trash beneath the desk. “I like to hear that so very much. You want it, then? My cock? You want me to swallow you whole? Envelop you completely with my body? With my being? I’ll try to find your prostate for you and massage it so deep. Since you liked it so much.”

“Yesssss,” Akira pants. “That!” He’s shifting his body back and forth still, fucking the air, wet and messy and frantic. He keeps his hands plastered to the table top as he humps the air. “Yes, Goro. Please, please, please. I want to feel you... I want you inside. I’ll do anything. Anything for you. My prostate... Oh, god, so that’s how it feels... I had no idea... If only I’d known sooner! I’d do it...I’d do it all the time... All day, all night. Touch it... Oh, Goro...touch me. God...”

Who is this strange creature? Akechi stares in fascination. “...Do you love me, Akira?” He whispers. Doesn’t mean to.

“Yes. I love you. Love you so much. Love you, Goro. Oh, god. Love you. Make love to me. Fuck me. Come in me. Make me see god...please. I can’t...I can’t...”

He takes a step back, assessing Akira’s loose and messy posture as he stays bent over the table, banging into the wood and fucking nothing. Such a sloppy little creature. Diseased with need. For him.

“Goro,” he pants on each thrust. “Goro.” Thrust. “Goro.” Thrust. So mindless. So needy. He’s sweating, beads of his salt dripping down his temple, his back.

“Okay,” Akechi whispers. He’s already leaking through his pants. The tacky wetness of his pre-cum is oozing through the sleek cloth and has left wet kiss marks against Akira’s legs and back. Akechi shifts the waistband and undoes the latches. “Ready, Akira? Ready to be ravaged?”

“Yes,” Akira drools, pupils blowing open as he catches sight of what Akechi’s doing. He stills, tilting his neck down, looking between his legs with wide shivering as Akechi unlatches himself.

Out Akechi springs. It isn’t as if Akechi hasn’t seen his own cock everyday of his life but he’s awkward about it suddenly. He’s wanted for so many years for Akira to want it, to love it, and knew it wouldn’t ever happen. So he internalized that rejection. Feared it was hideous, that he was hideous. Everyday, it felt more and more true. Now, he doesn’t even know anymore.

Watching Akira’s reaction changes things. It shifts something deep within his chest, reroutes several channels of built in pain and agony. They blossom into something beautiful and new.

Akira looks at Akechi’s cock for the first time and his eyes grow wide in the face of it. His lips part and he stares, transfixed. He even begins to drool. It’s like he’s forgotten where he is, that he has a body to be at all. He just...stares at Akechi’s cock, a hungry light flickering to life in his eyes and blazing through his mind, infecting and obliterating it. He licks his lips. His legs part wider. His breath goes shallow. “Yes,” he whispers, shaking. He’d go to his knees and obey this cock no matter what it asked of him. He is completely and irrevocably its slave. He’s hypnotized by the very sight of it. “Yes... I-I want that. I want it...” He swallows hard, throat bobbing. “...Beautiful...”

Akechi reaches down to hold it in his hand and he gives it a few slow strokes, carefully watching Akira’s rabid expression flicker. He’s in just as much awe as Akira.

“...This is yours,” Akechi states, slightly baffled. “It’s always been yours. All you ever had to do was ask. And I would’ve slid it deep into your body. Pressed it right into your prostate...held it there, pinned you down to the floor by it.”

“Mm-mm-mm...” Akira doesn’t have words anymore.

“So easy to control you... Looks like I found your weak spot. Just a simple touch and you’re mine for the taking. So looks like I’ll have to keep touching it...all...night...long.”

Akira nods quickly, rolling onto his back over the desk. He grabs onto his shins and pulls them back so that his legs go high in the air, opening up, stretching himself as wide as he can go so Akechi can fit in as deep as he can.

Akira’s eyes go up to the ceiling and stay there, still and wide. He swallows hard. He’s shivering in anticipation. Complete submission that he can’t even look at Akechi anymore, only waits in position.

Akechi is seriously going to faint. The world swirls around Akira, he’s all he can see, him and his dutifully presented cunt.

Akira wants his prostate to be touched and massaged and played with. And he doesn’t want just anything to play with it. He wants a nice juicy cock to prod at it. Oh, Akechi’s going to devour him.

A voice calls from somewhere far too close. The door’s wide open. “Akira? Goro? Or. Um. Akechi?”

Akechi’s neck cracks for how quickly he looks up. Shit. He completely forgot about reality. Rejected it until it disappeared. Other people exist? Doesn’t seem right.

He looks down at Akira’s lewd pose, his legs high in the air, his hole pointed straight at Akechi, open for him. He’s laid out naked and sweaty over Yoshizawa’s father’s desk, still hypnotized by Akechi’s cock, not even blinking as his eyes stay locked to the ceiling. He didn’t hear them... He’s lost his mind... He’s a dumb empty bimbo.

“Akira!” Akechi hisses, gripping tightly to his thighs and giving a quick shake. His cock flops an inch and twitches, but his eyes stay locked upward.

“Yours,” is all he whispers dully.

“I swear I heard one of them talking over here.”

No time. Too close.

Akechi bundles Akira into a ball and shoves him into the seat uneloquently. Akira faceplants in it, ass in the air, hole presented. He groans, but there’s no time. Akechi snatches up all the papers and frames, tossing them back onto the desk, sloppily trying to organize them back into some semblance of what they were previously. He snatches Akira’s clothes up off the floor. Hucks them beneath the window curtain.

Akira slowly pulls himself up. He looks around at his naked body, down at his erect cock. A piece of crinkled paper is stuck over it. “Wh-why are we stopping...? What did I do? What do I — ?”

“Shh!” Akechi whispers viciously, throwing a finger up to his mouth to silence him. He snatches the messed up paper off Akira’s cock, wraps his arms around Akira’s middle, and rushes the both of them a few feet back, behind the thick heavy red velvet curtains. He pushes Akira into the window and holds him there with his body, caging him against it.

Akira makes a soft sound of surprise as his front is held tightly to glass. It’s cold.

Not a moment too soon. Footsteps enter. A pair.

“Whoa. Holy toledo. What happened here?” It’s Kasumi’s voice. She comes in close, hovering over the desk. Akechi can see a distorted image of her form in the stained glass. She bends over and grabs a paper weight Akechi had missed on the floor, stares at it in befuddlement. “Did Akira do this? Do you think he came in here earlier?”

“Why would he mess up some papers?” Yoshizawa asks, mystified.

“Maybe Akechi did it. He seemed pretty upset and your friend said they fought. Maybe he’s an aggressive kind of fighter?”

“I don’t know. He doesn’t seem like he would, but...well, Akira does always say he has quite the temper... Oh, where is Akira? I hope he’s okay... I’m beginning to worry. Do you think he’s avoiding me?” She’s quiet for a while. “What if...what if he regrets proposing?”

Akira, who’s been completely still against the glass wall, genitals and naked torso and chest smooshed against the dark starlit sky, reacts to that, his breath caught in his lungs. He turns his head to Akechi, his eyes wide with protest. He looks like he’s seconds from darting out from behind the curtain and begging Yoshizawa’s forgiveness.

Idiot. Akechi gives a quick shake of his head and leans his weight in harder, boxing him in.

But! Akira mouths, trying to pry his way out from Akechi’s hold.

Akechi ruts his erection against Akira’s leg. It isn’t on purpose, it was only meant to push him back into place, but he watches as it affects him, watches Akira’s eyes roll up into his skull slightly as he shudders, shoved back into obedience. His head falls back limply on Akechi’s shoulder, his hand sags in the air, losing its grip.

So effective. So easy. It was just a little cock on him.

Akechi blinks at Akira’s face in confusion and shock. Akira’s breath shudders as he drools.

So he likes it that much...? It’s unbelievable. Making up for lost time.

Kasumi says, “What? Akira regret proposing? Why on earth would he do that? He loves you, Sis. You know that. I know that. Everyone can see. He looked so happy when you said yes and that was only an hour ago! I knew this was going to happen, you know, you shouldn’t doubt yourself. You always do that. You’re a catch and Akira’s a smart man, he knows that.”

Akira’s breath is picking up. It’s not in excitement, it’s in distress. His panic is just too powerful.

This isn’t ideal. The curtain is large and it’s thick, which hides them well, but not if Akira begins to have a panic attack. Akechi looks down at his hard cock peeking out from Akira’s back. He has a thought, a crazy thought. Could he really use it to his advantage? Could he control Akira with the power of his cock?

Akira, a weak puddle of obedience as his eyes swirl from the hypnotic powers of Akechi’s genitals. No way. Unless...

Akechi shifts a small step back, being careful not to jostle the curtain. He grabs ahold of both of Akira’s cheeks below and spreads them, looking into his pink tight hole. His prostate waits inside, nestled into the sweet private space of his inner body.

How many years. How many dreams has he had of this exact experiment? Has he longed for this exact moment? And it’s here. It’s finally his.

Akira makes a small desperate sound of protest beneath his breath. But it’s too late. The ingredients are all here. All he needs to do...is finish him.

Akechi presses the tip of his cock to Akira’s pink hole...and slowly forces his way inside.

It’s tight, nearly painful for Akechi, and Akira tightens up even more at the intrusion, like elastic trying to snip Akechi’s cock off. It’s a battle of wills, really. So much sensation, so much. Akira grips onto the glass in a silent open-mouthed scream, smearing heat through the fog. His fingers draw lines across the glass. His eyes blow wide in disbelief. But he’s pinned. There’s nowhere to run.

“You’ll see,” Kasumi says softly. “Auntie recorded it. We’ll look over the video after we find him. Akechi looked sick earlier, maybe he drank too much. Akira seems kinda like he’s his caretaker still, I bet he’s helping him.”

“True,” she says. “Goro seems to have a lot of problems with his mental health, so maybe it’s just...unrelated. I dunno. Akira loves his Goro, that’s for sure.”

Oh, god, does he. Look at how his body eats up Akechi’s cock, parting just for him as it’s speared through. Slowly, Akechi disappears inside him, like he’s being transported to another dimension and Akira’s body is the portal. Magic.

Overwhelmed, Akira slams his head forward, trying to hit it on the window, but Akechi quickly slips his hand beneath, taking the blow, so the hit is silent. Focuses his attention back down.

His shaft slowly fights its way in, sliding past the tight band. Akira’s back bends for it. His hand grips desperately at Akechi’s wrist, twisting and digging as he pleads silently. He gives a quick sharp shake of his head — Sumi! he mouths — but Akechi shoves Akira’s head back to the window. Down.

Yes, he knows Sumi’s right there, he’s not an idiot, that’s what makes this so good, obviously. She’s right here as they first become one. What better way to mark Akira as his but to come inside him with her right there? She’s basically a witness in a consummation viewing. It’s beautiful, really.

“That’s right,” Kasumi says.

“He’s a really good guy.”

“I really like him, Sumi. He cares for his family, that’s good. And he’s the best guy you’ve ever dated. And he loves you.”

Akira heaves silently.

“Yeah. Yeah, he does. You’re right. I don’t know why I’m so worried. I guess I just... I was so happy when he proposed. And good things...you know how easy it is for them to slip away. It’s hard to believe in fairytales.”

Akechi can’t relate. He reaches both hands up the sides of Akira’s lithe torso and pinches at both nipples, watching him jolt. Catching the back of Akira’s head on his shoulder, he begins to roll each bud between his fingers, feeling their satisfying hardness, proof of Akira’s enjoyment. They really are cute, aren’t they? Little rosebuds, sweet and ripe.

Akira’s cock smears against the glass. His stomach caves and bucks. His fingers cling desperately to the window, digging in but finding no holds. “Mm,” he whimpers.

Sumi continues. “...And then Akira just disappeared. Him and Goro. They always do that, you know. He’s always running off to his house, saying he’ll be right back, but he never is. He spends the night over there all the time, I don’t even bother going after him anymore. I always worry he wants him more than he wants me...”

Yes. Good. Slowly, so painfully slowly, Akechi begins to shift his cock out and into Akira’s body. No more singular slow direction. As their motion changes, Akira melts like battered putty into Akechi, both hands spread for mercy as he’s skewered on Akechi’s cock. He doesn’t protest anymore. His throat bobs and strains and Akechi hears a small sweet little, “ah” that he can’t contain. Is that his sweet spot Akechi feels?

“So good,” Akira breathes on a jerky soft sob into the window. “S-so...so...good...Goro...oh...”

What if she hears? Akechi’s giddy with it. What if she hears?! He quickens each slap in. Crams Akira into the slick window and watches his brow furrow in distress.

“You worry too much. Maybe they’re on the third floor. Or the garden. If the windows are open, you can usually hear what’s going on out there. I bet that’s it.”

“Ah-ah-ah-ah —” Akira breathes, the soft silk of his back thighs cracking softly. The sound is quiet, but wet. He tries to contain it, but it somehow keeps getting louder.

“...Yeah,” Yoshizawa says. “Akechi seems like an away-from-everyone-at-a-party kind of person.”

“He sure does,” Kasumi laughs softly. “Escaping the crowd. Oh wow, look at this picture of us. I didn’t know Dad had it here on his desk.”

“Oh, yeah! I remember that day! Aww, I didn’t know Dad had it here either. ...That’s so sweet. It’s cracked though. Sheesh, we should get him a new one.”

“Hey, look, it must’ve been recent. There’s glass right here.”

“Oh...” Akira’s mouth is sagging open in pleasure. He’s no longer shaking his head or trying to squirm away. He’s loving it. Cock. Up his cunt. He’s loving being a bottom. Fuck, it’s working. Akechi’s giddy with it. He knew it. He knew it. His cock does have power!

He thrusts in harder, shoving his shaft deep inside, until his balls press up into Akira’s skin, the softest of squelching sounds between the point of their connection.

The breath is punted from Akira’s lungs and he wheezes, eyes rolling in bliss. Akira doesn’t seem to be able to help himself, his jaw begins to work just slightly on the glass, as if he’s...suckling cock.

Akechi doesn’t know why he’s so shocked by it, but he blinks in surprise at the vision anyway. Oh, the sight. It’s so fucking erotic, he’s going to burst. Fuck! What’s he to do? He doesn’t have two cocks. And Akira wanted so badly for Akechi to fuck his mouth...Akechi needs to deliver!

Clearly, in Akira’s mind, he’s there, sucking Akechi’s cock. Heartily, too. He makes a soft content sound deep in his throat as he licks up the glass in a lewd strip. He’s making out with the glass, steaming it up. “Ahhh,” he groans.

“And remember this day?” Sumi laughs softly. “When we went skiing together.”

“Oh yeah, back with Mom. God, they were so happy together. ...Did you hear that?”

“Hear what? No?”

Slipping his fingers across the spit-covered glass panes, Akechi sneaks them into Akira’s mouth, blocking up the soft confused sound Akira makes as he crams them in.

But Akira is just a dumb bimbo. He’s just here to get fucked and suck. So suck he does. Wholeheartedly. Bobbing his head as his face goes slack and his eyelids droop in detached out-of-body pleasure. He somehow smiles around Akechi’s fingers, glazed eyes going distant into the sky. All needs and desires met. Yoshizawa long forgotten.

Akechi collapses his weight into Akira’s body and kisses the back of his neck mercilessly, making out with the long elegant column of his spine just like Akira did the window only a moment again. His salty sweat stings his tongue, drives him wild. He tastes so fucking good. Akechi’s going insane.

Slap, slap, slap. Softly, but...

Yoshizawa and Kasumi have been talking about something together a few feet away, but Akechi doesn’t have enough brain cells left over to register any of it. He’s stuck in Akira, stuck in this primal deed of planting his seed inside his mate’s womb. He milks his cock with Akira’s insides, in complete bliss. He can’t stop. He needs to mate his mate. Needs to mount and incapacitate and impregnate him. Doesn’t matter who catches him. That won’t change how he comes inside his soft pliant mate. This is it. This is life. This is what he was made for. Fill Akira. Fill him!

He begins to come inside. He shoves his face into the back of Akira’s neck and chokes. It’s so intense. Light encompassing him, all around from within. Him and Akira. The lovers who were always meant to be. It’s beyond divine. It’s thirty years of longing and need released into his favorite person.

Akira’s hot body milks it out of him, massages his shaft and encourages him on. Needs him deeper inside.

Akechi crams himself in, locked onto Akira, muscles tight and possessive. He doesn’t, but it feels like he’s got a knot and it’s planted inside Akira for him. Never wants to leave. Shoves it up, up, deep.

“Well, let’s go look in the garden then. Someone’s down there and he’s got to be somewhere. Their car is still here.”

Yoshizawa chuckles. “I dunno. Goro’s so rich, he can call any Uber he wants.”

“A rich guy isn’t going to use Uber.”

“Really? Why not? Is there a rich person Uber equivalent?”

Their conversation drones off into the distance before blipping out.

Is that it? Are they gone? Please be gone.

Akechi pants for a moment, staring unseeing at the back of Akira’s loose neck, changed. So it’s happened. He’s come inside Akira. It’s really true. Akira’s body...can take him... Willingly. Happily. With starry dazed eyes, he looks down at their connection, at his cock rammed up inside Akira’s pink wide hole. It looks like a miracle.

Keeping his cock inside Akira, who is too preoccupied to care about anything else, Akechi tosses the thick curtain off his back and twists, scoping out the room.

No one is here anymore. The desk is cleaned up. The papers are where they should be. They’re alone.

Slowly, carefully, Akechi puts both hands on Akira’s hips and pulls out, watching his wet tacky shaft release back into their world. Akira’s hole is gaping. “Fuck,” he chuckles softly, thumbing at the soft messy skin as it shrinks back. “That was close.”

As he’s released, Akira slides bonelessly down the glass until his knees hit the floor. He doesn’t even turn away from the glass. His chin scrapes against the window, his face tilted skyward in an awkward bent angle, neck pressed flat. His hands hang uselessly at his sides. What an odd position to be in.

Akechi steps over him and leans his forehead to the glass to look down. Akira blinks up at him owlishly.

“You...okay?” Akechi says hesitantly, unsure what sort of answer he’ll receive. Akira’s still drooling his cum from his hole. And he’s supposed to be straight, or something like it.

Akira stares back up at him, eyes black as coals, panting, spent. He kneels, still. Kneels for his master...

No.

Akechi shakes his head, trying to clear the fever from it. Its hold is still upon him, clogging up his lungs with heat. “I...I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have done that; I know I told you we’d go slow. It’s just...you were about to give us away. I wasn’t sure what else to do. I needed you to be quiet and obedient and that seemed...well, it seemed like my privates stuffed into your privates might be the perfect distraction for you. And it was. But still, I’m sorry.”

Akira just breathes, still staring.

It’s unnerving really. Akira always has something to say. Some sort of opinion, some response for Akechi. But he doesn’t reply. He just...stares.

Akechi takes one hand back and reaches down with it, cupping Akira’s face from behind. He runs his hand over Akira’s hair, traces his finger over his eyes. “What?” He whispers, watching Akira tilt his face in slightly, closer into Akechi’s warmth, so he can take Akechi’s finger into his mouth.

Akechi runs his finger back and forth down the length of his tongue, fucking softly. He swallows hard, his heart rate is beginning to pick up again. “You like that...don’t you...?”

Akira closes his eyes down and sucks serenely away. It’s more than like, maybe more than love.

Akechi’s heart is breaking. “Turn around,” he commands softly.

Akira begins to move, but it isn’t fast enough for Akechi. He grabs him by the shoulders and whirls him so his back is pressed to the window. Akira looks up at him, thick doll-like eyelashes gazing lovingly to his face. His soft tender mouth is right there, inches from being dominated, so sweet, so precious.

Without waiting, Akechi jerks his hips straight forward and pins Akira’s head to the glass with his cock.

Akira grunts in shocked surprise. His soft doll-like daze is gone. His lips open with no fight as the cockhead slips inside, parts his jaw wide. He chokes, but the sound soon melts into an elated relief as his eyelids flutter with warm pleasure. He reaches both hands up and feels along Akechi’s shaft, fingers around his balls, before gripping into his pubic hair and tugging him in close.

“Nn!” He gurgles eagerly. “Nn!”

Akechi’s always wondered about it. Akira’s so beautiful, like a fairy in some lights. Ethereal and lithe and long. His fingers, his, legs, his torso, his neck. Akechi’s watched him for so many years. On those nights together, sleeping in the same bed, Akira would sprawl out over their pillows without a care, his neck stretched backward, so elegant and delicate and beautiful. And Akechi was so curious. He stared for so many hours at Akira’s still slumbering lips. Wanting. Dreaming of touching. What would it feel like to part those sweet lips and take. He wanted so badly. As Akira slept away, so trusting, so precious, Akechi envisioned it all, leaning over and biting down into the tenderness of his neck, latching on and dragging him in with his claws.

This is even better. He thinks of Akira in bed, and this is what it’d be like to drag him from the sheets and take him in front of the garden.

He’s dipping down into the core of Akira, passing through the sacred opening of his face and diving down to meet his heart, his chest. He almost thinks he can feel it. The tip of his cock literally dipping into a shallow pond of pure flame, suckled and massaged and gripped onto by the inside of Akira’s body.

And Akira’s willingly allowing this. Taking him in like this. Welcoming Akechi to experience this at the expense of his own comfort.

Akechi could come again right here and now. So soon too, he hadn’t realized it was possible. But Akira beats him to it.

With a startled choked gasp, Akira’s throat clamps down and wrings Akechi’s cock, spasming and fighting with it. Akira flattens his back out against the glass, his hands clutching at Akechi’s body in desperate mad grabs as he bucks and writhes, his cock spilling his cum and pleasure all up his front.

“NnNN!!” He wheezes wildly, smeared across the stained glass. “NnnnNNNnnnn!!!”

Akechi presses his forehead to the glass as he watches Akira fight below him. It looks so...consuming. Akira isn’t there, only sensation, only the orgasm Akechi built and sent ripping through his body. He looks like a dragon being downed.

Akechi doesn’t pull out. He keeps himself planted inside as Akira flails through space. Akechi can’t give up his place yet. He wants to be connected to him as Akira experiences this. He wants to be a part of this.

It’s too much for Akira. At the end of a guttural clogged wheeze, Akira goes completely limp, eyes rolling effectively back in his head. With a wet long squeak, Akira paints the glass sideways and then just hangs there, arms limp, only held up by the cock pinning him.

He passed out on his cock, bathed in the soft glow of the moonlight. So this is what completed looks like. Done. Finished. KOd. Akira is fried, from the inside out. His mouth and throat still hold Akechi even now.

It’s beautiful.

Akechi can’t take the sight. He groans wantonly and gives one thrust in, another...but then he pulls out of Akira’s pliant, tender throat. He wants to stay like this forever but, if he does, he’ll come again, and he wants to save it.

With an exhausted groan, Akechi sinks down beside Akira, kneeling. He still hasn’t woken up, but his cheeks are glowing so he must be happy, or is it just their fluids smeared high?

Akechi thumbs tenderly at Akira’s wet messy chin, trying to rouse him back awake.

“Akira,” he whispers, pressing a gentle kiss to his salty tear-streaked cheek. “Akira, wake up.” Another kiss to his forehead. Dipping down, he buries his nose into the side of his neck and nuzzles in there, scooting his body up against Akira’s.

Akira stays out of it. Passed out on his cock. Akechi laughs fondly deep in his throat. Passed. Out. On. Cock. It’s so ridiculous.

“Are you ever going to wake up?” He hums, sitting back to gaze at his worn used face. “I’m not done with you yet.”

Silence. No. The answer is clearly no.

It’s like old times. Akira, so trusting, slumbering away, while Akechi stands by, observing, dreaming... Nothing’s changed between them. But everything’s changed. They’re still Akechi and Akira, Akira and Akechi, but everything feels so perfect and right. Akechi’s been inside Akira. After so long! He’s come inside him, left his sperm in his intestines, covered them with his milky thick cum. Akira’s his. He’s marked from within.

Akechi knows just what to do. It’s the perfect timing, really. Something to commemorate this momentous occasion in their lives.

Akechi places a hand over his breast pocket and carefully slips his gift out: the golden chain. Too afraid to give it to him earlier, he thought he’d missed his chance after the proposal happened. Didn’t want to be a part of it anymore, this fight for Akira’s affection. Especially knowing he’d already lost.

But...has he? Akira doesn’t look so scary now, with his stomach and throat full of Akechi’s cum. His mouth still hangs open. Dumb...but so sweet. So undeniably his. Like this, Akechi can believe.

Akechi reaches down and skims his fingertips along the inside of Akira’s leg, over the soft untouched skin. Tenderly, he lifts it with both hands and leans so he can draw his face down the length, pressing indulgent deep kisses along his salty sweet skin. When he reaches Akira’s ankle, he looks down at the soft pale skin, skimming the tips of his fingers across it. It’s so bare, almost like it’s completely untouched, after all these years.

Carefully, Akechi undoes the clasp. He wraps it around Akira’s dainty ankle and locks it in place. It fits like it was made just for him, kissing firmly to his skin. It’s gorgeous, glittering away in the lamp and moonlight like it’s worth the price of several countries. The moon and the sun pendant turns like a merry-go-round as Akechi tilts Akira’s leg back and forth for leisurely viewing.

He stares at it for a long time, occasionally brushing his thumb over it. It’s the symbol of his love tied tightly around Akira’s body, thorns latching in, refusing to let go. Akechi’s claim. This delicate golden chain is the kiss Akechi has on Akira at all times, searing into his flesh no matter where he is or who he’s with. I’m here.

Whether he’s in that golden light behind the curtain, fucking some other silhouette... Or singing onstage. Or...locked to a certain chair...

Akechi can’t help it. Akira’s out cold still, bathed in the moonlight from outside the window, so Akechi hitches a ride on his beautiful runner’s leg and humps his shin mercilessly.

Akira’s head bobs, but his pretty eyes stay closed as he’s used for Akechi’s pleasure.

Akechi comes that way, both hands clutching into Akira’s curls, shoving his face up harshly against his, rocking his penis onto Akira’s nude skin, poking and prodding. It’s messy. It’s thoughtless, no meaning. He dips his fingers into Akira’s hole, prying it apart and feeling inside. Whatever he pleases. Whatever he wants. As he comes all over the anklet on Akira’s leg.

Akira sways limply in his arms like a ragdoll, completely at his mercy as Akechi crawls all over his body like he’s a jungle gym. He reaches up to suck at his tongue, drawing his head up like a puppet master occupying his puppet’s body.

It feels...sublime to just do as he pleases with Akira. So fucking good. Better than any of his dreams. He could believe in love like this.

Finally, eventually, Akira stirs, eyes cracking open unsteadily. His head rolls. “Ahh...”

Akechi smiles as he pulls himself out from Akira’s mouth, faces only inches apart. He continues slowly fingering Akira’s hole as he waits for Akira’s eyes to focus. For him to close his mouth that’s still hanging wide from being used.

Akira looks down at his belly. It’s covered in their two loads of cum, rhythmically tensing with each thrust of Akechi’s fingers. Slowly, he skims a finger over it, eyes dull and faraway. He holds it up and looks at his hand, newly covered. Then, sluggishly, he parts his legs wide, gazing down at Akechi’s arm connected to his body. In, in, in. Deeper. And deeper. And deeper. He stares.

“You passed out,” Akechi explains, curling his finger and gently scraping his walls, earning himself a jolt. “You orgasmed so hard with my cock down your throat that you couldn’t hold onto consciousness. I fucked you after. Well, not inside. But I did come on you, as you can see.”

Akira turns his gaze from his cum-covered hand to Akechi’s face. He frowns a bit as he looks down at his shin, Akechi’s fluids oozing over his foot and onto the floor.

“Oh. That,” Akechi says, determinedly still inside Akira. “I know we have a strict no gift policy for Christmas, but...well, you always break it. And besides, it’s not much. I just saw it while I was on vacation and I thought of you. And then I came on it. I hope you don’t mind.”

Akira stares, dazed, body bobbing, but he doesn’t seem to notice.

“It’s...it’s an anklet. See? I told you. Not much. I just...I wanted you to have it.”

Still, he just...stares.

Nervousness spikes in Akechi. “Um. Do you not like it? God. Sorry. You don’t have to accept it. It was silly... I just — It was dumb. Here. I’ll take it off —” He goes to pull his fingers from Akira’s body —

Dizzily, like he’s falling, Akira leans the weight of his head forward and gravity does the rest for him. He falls forward, into Akechi.

It’s their first real kiss. Where they both meet each other in the middle. Finally, in the middle.

Akira kisses Akechi like he’s starved for it. He kisses him open mouthed and hot. And it isn’t grey. Or cold. Or any of those things. Akira grabs Akechi by the collar and drags him in, moaning and whimpering as he fights for his mouth with his tongue. He wants more, just as Akechi does. So much more. They kiss and kiss and kiss.

For once, they’re on the same page. And it feels amazing.

Akechi loses himself in it. He isn’t sure how long they’ve been kissing for, sloppy and dirty, without a care in the world, fingering him indulgently, but he could do this forever.

“Love it,” Akira pants into his mouth. “Love you. So beautiful. Just like you.”

Akechi moans low and deep. “Oh, god. I’m so glad. I was worried. I wanted you to like it... I wanted you to like it so much.”

“Goro,” Akira breathes heavily.

Akira’s lips taste raw, like copper, so Akechi gives him mercy, breaking off and trailing down. Kissing his face, nipping over his jawline. Sucking into his neck. He nudges Akira’s head back and dips in, biting hickeys into his skin, raking his teeth over his soft porcelain-white flesh, taking each moan of Akira’s as his. His fingers work deeper into Akira’s body, pulling and tugging and poking inside, prodding soft sounds from him as Akechi moans deeply, in absolute heaven. He shoves Akira’s head back, holding the side of his face against the glass.

“Let’s go again,” he says, a bit deliriously. He’s not sure if he actually can, but that’s not the point. He wants and Akira wants and isn’t that all they need?

But, Akechi doesn’t know why, Akira tenses. He begins to squirm against the window beneath Akechi’s ministrations; protesting weakly.

“What?” Akechi breathes in concern. “What is it?” He looks down at Akira’s cock, still hard and plump, clearly feeling good. And then he looks back at his face.

Worry tickles up his neck. They are both feeling it, aren’t they? Or is this the end of the dream? Midnight for Cinderella.

“Shh, shh...” Akechi snaps his fingers loudly in Akira’s ear and Akira lets out a long loud groan, eyes rolling back in his head as he parts his legs for Akechi’s cock even wider. “That’s my good boy. Open up your cunt for me. It feels good. See? You want me. You want me...”

“Mmm...uh...” Akira forces out stiffly, whites of his eyes still all that’s visible. “Ah.”

Lewd wet thrusts quicken in the air as Akechi fingers him in a burst of sharp stabs, trying to force him back down into oblivion, where he cannot protest. He finds his prostate and goes to town. “What is it? My poor Akira. Has it become too much for one night?”

“N-n-no. No.” Akira’s eyes are frazzled as he shifts and tries to sit up, but he gets caught, sprawled over Akechi’s lap like he is. He accidentally fingers himself over Akechi’s hand and makes an odd gurgling noise. “Sumi,” he breathes through it. “It’s Sumi.”

“Hm?” Akechi’s dizzy. Busy being caught in a dream and trying to catch it back. “It’s me with you. Only me. She’s gone.”

“Sumi’s in the fucking garden,” Akira wheezes, panicking, on a short moment of lucidity. “SUMI. If she looks up, she’ll —!” His eyes roll back again on a particularly nice stab of his weak point. “AhhhhHHhhhh...yeah... Oh...yeah...”

Akechi looks down as he works on Akira. Oh. It’s true. There she is. Yoshizawa and Kasumi walk together over the cobblestone flooring down below. Yoshizawa is using her hands as a visor to peer across the garden even if it’s fucking night and there’s no sun to even get in their eyes. It makes no sense. She’s so fucking irritating.

But they look like princesses. And isn’t that so fucking perfect? They have everything. A mansion, a garden, world-renowned medals, a father. Family!

Akechi just wants...one thing. Just one thing. And Yoshizawa has to try to take that from him too.

Akira’s his. He’s fucking his! And no one but him seems to know it.

“Sumi...” Akira moans softly in defeat, hands smeared over the mess on the glass. “S-Sumi...”

“Shh, shh...” Akechi snaps his fingers loudly in Akira’s ear and Akira lets out another long loud groan, eyes rolling back into their rightful place in his head. It’s so beautiful, that instantaneous sweet surrender. Akechi likes it very much. He snaps softly again and Akira’s hole contracts and twitches for Akechi. He stabs that prostate over and over, making him jello.

“Yes...” Akira whimpers, swaying his hips enticingly. “Oh god, you’re so good. You feel so good.”

“That’s right, Akira. You want this, don’t you? More than her.” Another gentle snap. “Who cares about her?”

“M-Mmm...yeah. V-velvet room... Who cares...? Y-your cock...inside me. Cock in my cunt. Feel whole...or I’ll...I’ll die? I’ll die. Your cock. That’s how — how I want it. Bottom. Your bottom? Your —? I — Straight? Wha?” He blinks several times in quick succession, eyes swirling. He looks to Akechi and draws in a sharp startled breath. “Goro?”

“Shhhhhhh. Shh, Akira. You don’t have to think anymore, don’t have to worry. Fall into it...fall into me... My cock is taking care of you in the way that matters most. It’s filling you up. Loving you. Isn’t that so much better than some silly little thinking?”

“Oh...I...”

“Akira.” A sharp snap.

His eyelids flutter. “Yes... Oh. Your cock...mine. All mine.” He smiles loopily, head swaying. “I’ll be...yours... All yours.” He giggles.

Akechi snaps again, just in case, and Akira cries out, chest jerking up. “...There... That’s my good boy. This is just about you and me. Just you and me...as we were always meant to be, weren’t we? Because you love me. You love me and my cock plunging inside of you. I want you so pregnant...and so do you. With my children. You want to be that for me, my cocksleeve, my filled and satiated toy. You want to be the best partner for me. A hole for my cock. That’s you.”

“I...” Akira’s smile fades into confusion. “...That’s...me?”

“Yes. Remember that room I made for you? Remember its message? You were made for me. Made for my cock.”

“Made..for...your...yes. I’m your toy. Only a toy. But...” His brow flickers with emotion as he blinks several times again. “But...”

Dammit. He’s losing him. Akira’s will is so strong. His hypnosis is weaker than he thought. He needs to readjust that, later.

Before Akira can protest, before he can even think another thought, Akechi rotates Akira around, presses his naked front to the window, and brutally bounces him against it until Akira’s spurting over painted glass, screaming.

Akira’s pissed.

Akechi doesn’t know why, really. It’s not like Akira didn’t just cry and beg and squirm against the window as he was plastered against the glass. He looked so good sprawled out across it, all four limbs pinned wide, his torso and cock rubbed up and down as Akechi fucked him. He sure was feeling good too, if his choked screams and guttural babble was anything to go by. He was thrashing with his whole body, it looked like he was being electrocuted.

Sumi could’ve looked up and seen. It’s true. And it would’ve been an absolutely ridiculous sight. A ludicrous sight. He was totally starfished. That would’ve looked really bad. But it was beautiful too. Akira spread eagle for all to see from whichever angle they wanted to view his naked vulnerable form from. He was like a sacred work of art really, hung up and displayed for their viewing pleasure, lit from behind with soft warm lamplight. A vision seen from the night walk outside. Medieval.

Visitors could casually peruse the garden, gazing down in satisfaction at the prize roses before tilting their heads to look up at Akechi’s prize Akira too, hung up by his wrists from the study ceiling. He’d fit into the place so easily, wet cock smearing over the stained glass as he twirled round and round. Come look, come see. It’s such a sight.

Akechi grabbed him by the hips, hands clenching into his soft malleable flesh, and showed him off to the party, held him up to the guests in the dark moonlit garden, kept him pressed up high. This is mine, he said as he kept Akira there despite his desperate protests, yanking his head back by the hair and baring his neck to the world. He’s mine.

And then he shoved him up the glass the highest he’d gone and came inside his body. Cum spurted viciously from his hole. Akira twitched as he took it all, crying loudly, his arms and thighs tensing over the glass. And Akechi managed to mark him that way too, laughing and moaning and he’s never felt like this — so alive —

Tonight was the first time he’d come inside Akira in reality. The very first time. And he did it several times. It was so surreal...

All in all, it felt like an extremely successful moment together. A milestone in their life-long relationship. A moment that’s changed everything.

When Akechi let Akira slide down the glass and off of his cock, Akira stumbled awake. He whirled, eyes filled with bright hurt indignation and he shoved at him — hard.

It would’ve had more of an impact if Akira hadn’t come at the touch. Falling into Akechi’s arms like a swooning maiden, grabbing tightly at his forearms as he twitched and gasped helplessly up into his face. Akechi watched wide-eyed, taking in every detail to file away for his notes as Akira’s hips milked the air in front of him. Akechi gave him mercy and let Akira borrow his thigh to hump and ride out the end of his climax. And boy, did Akira ride it, parting his legs wide and rolling his hips as he panted like a dog in heat. Absolutely gushing.

Only when he was finished, and only then, did Akira shakily pick himself back up. There wasn’t much dignity left for him by that point, not that Akechi cared. Sticky with multiple layers of cum, Akira snatched up his clothes tossed about behind the curtains and tugged them on. As he stumbled out from their hiding place, Akechi’s cum leaking down his thighs, he stared wide-eyed at the picture of Yoshizawa sitting on her father’s desk. He looked... He looked...

Akira said something else too, something high and panicked and upset to Akechi, but fuck if he still remembers. Because he’s still on an orgasm high.

He fucked Akira. Him! Fucking Akira! And Akira enjoyed it... Begged him for it.

Akechi fucked Akira... His heart flutters with butterflies and joy.

It’s all he can think of. It’s all he’s filled with. This sense of wonder. Of awe. He never thought he could have it, no matter what, and now look at him! It’s seriously a dream come true!

By the time Akechi collects himself and heads downstairs, the party is winding down and the room is half empty. It’s late and they have quite the drive ahead of them, but they were all waiting for Akechi and Akira to finish their...chat.

Yoshizawa keeps tossing worried looks at Akira, whose head hangs with the weight of his shame. Akira avoids Akechi’s eyes completely. Even on the car ride home, Akira sits as far away from him as he can. He makes no mention of him at all. Looks around him. It’s like he’s not even here.

For now, it’s fine. Akechi’s body has been completely wrung out dry. He’s content and satiated in a way he’s never felt before. He leans his head against the window and stares out as the dark scenery of trees and cabins pass them by. No fireflies tonight, but that’s alright, he’s always felt more comfortable in the dark anyway.

“Akira?” Ann asks halfway through her incessant chatter. “You’ve been oddly quiet. Are you alright?”

“I... Yeah,” he says softly. “I’m okay. Just tired. Been a long day.”

“You just got engaged,” she says merrily, giving his arm a little playful punch. “Shouldn’t you be more than just okay?”

“Mmm. Yeah. Definitely. Very excited,” He hums, but he sounds detached and distant.

Everyone’s eyes flick over to Akechi with concern.

Akechi closes his eyes down and lets himself rest. For the first time in years, his mind quietens, since those wonderful nights in Akira’s arms, curled up into the safety of his chest. Tonight, he can feel it as if they’re really there together. Akira holding him tightly by his own free will, warmth into warmth, a promise that they’ll be safe as long as they’re together. It feels like love.

A feeling so strange and unfamiliar. It’s the best feeling in the world.

“Oh, my god...” Akechi mutters to himself, fidgeting with the gas mask on his face. “Fuck me. Fucking fuck.”

The tubes and flasks are bubbling merrily away and everything’s looking great, it really is. But fuck. It is so hot in here, his sweat is beginning to sting his eyes and fog up his supposedly non-fog glasses. The heat is so blistering he swears to god he must’ve accidentally made an incubator for a volcano or some shit because fuck. Bunsen burners are hot but not this fucking hot.

Arsène is supposed to be in charge of the thermostat around here, what on earth is he doing that’s so important he’ll let Akechi melt? No one gives a shit about anything around here!

Swearing and cursing beneath his breath, Akechi checks the temperature gauge up top and blinks. It reads a cool sixty-eight degrees Fahrenheit. Well. That’s odd. He looks down at his watch. His heart rate is one-forty...and rising. Huh. Very odd indeed.

This isn’t good. He reaches for the bottom of the gas mask to pull it off and realizes about two seconds too late why he even had it on in the first place. If that’s not a critical error, he doesn’t know what is.

“Oh, shit!” He chokes, sliding sideways off his seat and hitting the ground hard. His lungs crinkle up like a little paper bag and he heaves against the floor for a moment before stars burst all around him, very distracting indeed. They’re dazzling, really. Charming. He likes stars. They remind him of a certain someone’s eyes. A certain someone he must not think about, must not talk about, must not acknowledge the existence of. It’s why he’s here in the first place, trying to distract himself. But he got distracted from the distraction and now he’s here. Starbound?

Oh well. Who gives a shit, honestly? He sinks into the floor, throat rasping as he rolls onto his back. He swears to god he sees the moon inside the room. The moon itself.

She knows him, like he knows her. All those years spent together in the deep dark quiet, wondering their place in the world. Speaking to each other in hushed whispers.

I don’t think I was born for this place.

But what about...?

Akira’s eyes flash through his mind and Akechi wheezes loudly, clasping his hand to his chest, a fish out of water.

No, no, no, no, no, not like this. This is so stupid. He thought it’d be fine, it should’ve been fine, but...but he didn’t even get to say goodbye...

Heat rakes its claws up his throat and he can’t breathe. He needs... He needs...

Before he can figure out a brilliant escape plan, hands slip beneath his armpits and lift him. Unceremoniously, Akechi is pulled through his underground lab and tossed straight out into black tile.

He collapses in a heap, coughing and gasping. And then the arousal hits.

As quickly as a flip of a switch, Akira’s penetrated his mind, his heart, his belly, his lungs. He’s gone rabid over him.

“Oh my gooooodddd,” he groans, shoving his hands straight into his pants and latching onto himself. “Fuuuuuu-uuuuck...”

His ragged voice echoes throughout the entryway of his dungeon as he touches himself mercilessly. Coughs weakly. Drools on the floor. Kicks his feet. His head is stuffed with cotton, with need, and nothing else. If he couldn’t touch himself, he would actually probably die.

Not great.

“Fuuuuck,” he sobs into the cool floor. “Akira, Akira, Akira!!”

He comes over it, panting hard, a wet and frantic displeased little mess. His hand is covered in cum and, as he stares down at it, he wonders vaguely how the fuck this became his life.

He’s shaky and weak, the unnatural arousal hit him hard. It’s difficult to come down. What he previously hadn’t even noticed is now thumping frantically against the inside of his throat, his chest, his stomach. He feels like his heart may just give out. That’d be...bad...maybe.

He swallows hard and then dares to look up into the dark figure standing over him, hands on their hips and their head tilted just enough to perfectly convey the emotion: I am pissed at you.

“Your blood pressure is 60/40.”

Akechi barks out a delirious laugh. “Is it? I was wondering about the double vision and...is there supposed to be that odd dark shadow behind you...?”

Arsène kneels down and stabs him right in the leg with something.

“OW. Ow...fuck...” He writhes and grips Arsène’s arm. “Warn a person before you fucking stab them in the ass. God, that hurts...”

“You should be returning back to normal now,” he says calmly, adjusting his sleeve as he stands back up and slips the small needle away.

“Fuck...” Akechi clears his throat and waits for his body to equalize. He feels like shit, honestly. Like his heart is trying to beat right out of his chest. When he calms enough to breathe properly, he says miserably, “You’re upset.”

Arsène scowls, irritation on his brow as he glares down at Akechi on the floor. “Two hundred beats per minute. Two hundred. Not to mention your blood pressure. There were signs, sir, very obvious signs, all of which you ignored! I could hear it all from up above getting progressively worse and worse and I just have to wonder...what on earth were you thinking?”

Akechi lets his face fall into the cover of his arms with a soft groan.

“I don’t understand the need for yet another aphrodisiac. How many do you need? Especially when it’s putting your health at risk!”

“Look. Those cum flowers are nice and all, but we can’t always have one sucking his face to get him horny, Arsène, be realistic. I want that face. The flower can suck it some other time. It’s only interesting the first time anyway, really.”

“And the hormones?”

“Sometimes I want Akira affected by me. Something I want to just...gas him. You know? I want him downed. I want him weak. I want him crawling on his hands and knees.”

“Good lord, you’re particular. That’s all fine, but what happened to the necessary precautions that you taught me? Surely, you could at least follow those.”

“I have you,” he says weakly, feeling like a two-year-old getting scolded.

“If you didn’t, you’d be dead.”

“Wouldn’t be the worst way to die. I was fairly happy once the second phase kicked in.”

“I could see that, sir, but I’d really rather you didn’t die that way, though. How on earth would I explain to Master Akira?”

“Ha. Dying with my hand around my cock? That would be too embarrassing to admit. Try...experiment gone wrong, perhaps?”

“Did it?”

Akechi sighs. Someone is clearly in a mood. “I underestimated how potent the concentration was and it happened to make it through the mask. It affected me enough to temporarily debilitate my short term memory. And then...I forgot. And then...” He makes an explosion sound.

“Perfect. Must be nearly ready then,” he says sarcastically. He glares for a moment longer, arms crossed tightly to his chest, until he gives the world’s weariest sigh. “You are so very tiring at times.”

Akechi laughs low and deep in his throat. He knows that tone, he’s been forgiven.

He rolls onto his back and closes his eyes down, placing his hands over his ribs and just...breathing. The floor is pleasantly cool. The sweat that’s soaked his hair and neck feels soothing against his skin. It feels okay like this, to just exist. Maybe he should’ve chosen floor time instead of scientist time.

“You don’t make mistakes.”

Akechi is still focusing on his deep breathing. It’s the breath out that people often don’t stay for, so he makes sure to stay for it. “...Hm?”

“You told me that once,” Arsène says. “Any mistakes you make...they aren’t mistakes.”

Akechi lets his eyes flutter open. He stares up at the stone ceiling, his ribs rising to meet the palms of his hands. “...I can’t believe you actually believed that drivel. I was an egotistical child when I first made you and saying that was just proof of that. Many things I said turned out to be false. Look at me. I nearly just killed myself on masturbation gas. How could any of that possibly be true? I’m a mistake myself.”

Arsène sighs softly. “I, for one, do not think that.”

“I made it so you wouldn’t.” He turns his head and looks over at Arsène standing at the staircase entryway. The warm orange light flickers from behind him, making him glow. Celestial. “...You’re beautiful,” he whispers gently. “And I made you that way too. Everything you do, every way you act, it is all completely by design. So how would you know beyond the scope of what you were taught...?”

Arsène watches him through unnervingly even eyes. “In any case, I’d very much appreciate it, Master, if you stopped making these mistakes. Whether it’s by design or not, that is how I feel.”

Akechi watches him back from his place sprawled on the floor. “...I know. I’ll try to be more careful. It was just an accident. A big dumb accident.”

Arsène gives a soft bow of his head. “...Sir.” He turns to ascend the staircase.

Darkness closes in over Akechi again. It’s so cold down here... He turns to the ceiling again, staring up at the way the low candlelight flickers over stone.

He thought relief might be found down here, away from everything else, but...did he do it on purpose? Did he sabotage himself so that he could fall and just...escape all this...?

That’s not good. Maybe he should go on vacation again. But, thinking of all that sand, hot and prickly and harsh against his feet, getting caught between the soft tender points between his toes, he thinks he’d probably rather die actually.

Maybe he will.

Maybe... Maybe...

He doesn’t know what to do with himself. As far as work is concerned, he’s still on vacation. He’s running out of days to bum around like this, but he’s finding it more and more difficult to care. Why does he even go...? He went because Akira told him that’s what was best for him. And yet, he’s never been more miserable. Akira says a lot of things are good for Akechi. And yet...

The star down below. The spindles of the railing twirling as he falls.

He takes a deep breath and peels himself off the floor. The least he could do is record his findings for this experiment.

Trudging up the steps of his stone spiral staircase, Akechi slaps the button behind his secret book to close the passageway and makes his way to his for-public-appearances lab. He turns on his computer as he shoves his feet against the side of the desk and sends himself spinning in circles as he waits for it to boot up.

Something outside his window draws his attention. Movement — a pitch black paint stroke over soft daffodil fields.

Akira.

He’s knee deep within the flower fields of their backyards, the wicker gathering basket around his arm filled to the brim already.

He looks calm. Quiet. He’s always grinning, Akira. But, right now, it looks like he feels the darkness too.

...He’s beautiful. The ethereal frame, the dark stormy eyes, delicate but chaotic, lithe but so sharp as to be powerful. Akechi has always thought these things, but they felt like evil thoughts, ones made to sabotage him, things he shouldn’t be allowed to feel, but felt anyway. Seeing Akira’s beauty made Akechi a bad person.

But something’s changed since Christmas Eve. Something deep within his heart, breathed into the corners of his mind. He feels like he can think those thoughts now. He’s been inside that body in the flower fields, and it’s his now.

He’s beautiful. A soft caress in a bed of broken glass. A helping hand when there’s only darkness, only the swell of the ocean rising overhead, pulling down.

Akira is the love of his life.

And he’s been inside that body. He’s conquered it. Been a part of it. Used it. Loved it.

His.

He stares. Who knows for how long. Until Akira turns toward his own home suddenly, probably called by his beloved, and, after a small pause, begins walking out of the field.

As he walks, Akira looks down at the flowers bordering their two houses and notices Akechi’s abysmal dried crisps, shells of what used to be thriving flowers a few weeks ago. Akira stares for a moment, small frown building on his brow, and then he flicks his gaze up to the window Akechi’s currently staring out of. Of all the windows! With a loud wheeze, Akechi quickly flattens himself to the wall just in time.

Shit. Fuck.

It’s fine. Everything’s...fine.

He rubs his hand over his chest in discomfort. ...So why is his heart beating so quickly like this...? Why is he still thinking about Akira naked? About his claim on him? That obviously isn’t true. It was just...sex. A one time sex thing. Because he’s getting married. Akira has a fiance. Akira is a fiance. It can’t be a continuing thing... But it was the best night of his entire life...

Fuck. With thoughts like these, maybe the gas is still affecting him. That’s got to be it.

Tight and restrained and totally in control over himself now, Akechi pulls his seat up and begins to work on his report, Akira shoved firmly out of his head. Safe.

The gas is potent enough to penetrate full coverage of the CM-8M gas mask and still produce full blown symptoms. Duration: 1 hour, declining from a peak of 10 minutes.

Presumably. But, again, he is distracted from the distraction.

He envisions it. Not even on purpose, it just happens. He can’t control it. Akira sliding his hands between Akechi’s thighs to part them, making space for his mouth... He thinks of raven black curls, snow white skin, and absurdly thick bottom lashes.

Goddammit.

Noticeable positive symptoms include increases in the following areas: mental imagery, physical sensation in the genitals, sense of smell, state of arousal (duration and intensity).

A sneaky lithe body, a crooked devil-may-care smile. Smoke corked in a bottle that evaporates when it’s wanted, a soft assured chuckle on the wind Akechi can’t quite reach.

Negative symptoms include...

Akira, down below in the garden, waiting for him. Waiting like such a good little boy. On his knees, thoughtless, hoping Akechi will go down and touch him. If only.

Increases in: body temperature, heart rate (200 bpm), low blood pressure (60/40), perspiration, dizziness, disorientation, confusion. So much confusion that you fucking take off your mask in the middle of it. Recovered fairly easily after epinephrine injection by Arsène, standard dose.

Speaking of him. Why hasn’t Arsène been watering the flowers outside? Akechi only waters the plants around the house when he’s trying to entice Akira out. All other times, it’s Arsène’s duty, he knows this. He’s just letting them die now? What does he even do in a day if not the daily house chores?

He thinks about it for a long moment, conflicted, then looks back up into his report and types idly away.

You really fucked this one up, didn’t you? But what else do you have to do? Everyone hates you. And why shouldn’t they? Why shouldn’t they hate you? Look what you’ve done to him. How can you live with yourself? You think a gold chain around his ankle can make up for who you are? Why are you still here? No one wants you here. Not even you. So what are you still doing here...?

“Master.”

Akechi jolts and quickly deletes the last paragraph. “Uhh...just a — Hold on.”

Replaces it with a simple: Rework.

He hits enter and then spins around, but there’s no one else in the room. Arsène’s voice came from the speaker.

“Oh,” Akechi says, settling back down. “I thought you were here. What is it?”

“You’re needed in the foyer.”

“If you’re just wanting the pleasure of stabbing me again, you’ll have to find a different victim for now, I’m afraid. I’m busy.”

“Hilarious as always, Master. I am laughing away. But no, it’s Master Akira. He’s here. I tried to take a message, but he will not have it. He doesn’t want me, sir. He wants you.”

“Well, that’s funny. He must have the wrong house. Tell him to try next door. She’s the one with the red hair.”

A sigh. “A quick analysis of Akira Kurusu results in the following findings: posture is hunched five inches lower than his standard. His eyes are darting off center thirty five percent more than average. He shuffles his feet in three second increments, it’s quite a lot. He’s quite restless. Not to mention his heart rate and baseline stress indicators, they’re —”

“I don’t need a whole play-by-play. Jesus. What next? His sex hormone levels?”

“If you’d like. You’ll find them peculiar, sir. They’re —”

Akechi gurgles under his breath and tosses his head back in defeat. “No. I mean, yes, but no. You know.”

“Fine. The summarized version is that he isn’t pleased.”

“Who would’ve ever guessed,” he mutters, tossing himself from the desk and walking back upstairs. He sorts through his drawers and picks out his casual wear, scowling at the crusty dried marks on his skin. “Bring him to the patio out back. I’ll be there in a moment.”

When Akechi’s finished with a casual shower, he goes outside. It’s quite the contrast from the dingy darkness of the dungeon. The sun is shining, the air is cool and fresh, the endless field of flowers in their backyard smells delicate and thriving. He can breathe again.

Akira sits at the table looking drained of life and energy. He is, indeed, hunched. Five inches is way too many inches to be healthy. He’s biting at his nails again, a nasty habit that drove Akechi crazy in high school that he’s since kicked...mostly, anyway.

“Do you realize you’re chewing on your blood or are you so far in your head you don’t even know?” Akechi asks as he rounds the table and takes the seat across from him.

Akira startles, eyes nervously flitting down to his nails. He exhales sharply. He didn’t know. “There you are,” he grumbles. “What the hell were you doing? Avoiding me?”

“Yes.”

It isn’t the best way to start a conversation. An awkward silence settles over them. Akira’s wired, like he drank twenty energy drinks and a few hundred shots of espresso. There are dark circles under his eyes and his hair is sticking up every which way. Akechi’s one-worded answer only seems to have agitated him tenfold.

Akechi watches him quietly. Just watches. The tight nervous line of his neck. The pale soft light of his skin. Akechi knows now just how it feels. Softer than it even looks. Like velvet. Like porcelain.

He knows what it tastes like. What it looks like smeared in his own cum.

Akira won’t look at him. He keeps his eyes deliberately as far away from wherever Akechi looks.

Eventually, Akechi sighs. “Are you hungry? We have...” He hesitates. He finds he doesn’t know, hasn’t checked in a while. “Arsène. What do we have?”

“No. Not hungry,” Akira murmurs lowly. He waves it away. Even though he hasn’t looked up once, he says, “What were you just doing? You’re all...pink. Flushed.”

Akechi curses internally. He can’t exactly say masturbating to Akira’s godly image. “Shower.”

“Shower. In the morning? But why? You always take a shower at night.”

“Changed my ways.”

“No, you didn’t. Why did you need a shower?”

Akechi sighs. “What’s it to you? I was working out.”

Akira frowns into his bloodied nails. “You don’t work out.”

“I do sometimes.”

“No, you don’t.”

“I do actually. Do you think the exercise room was just for show?”

“Yeah.”

Akechi tosses his hands up into the air. “Maybe I made a new machine and wanted to try it out, you don’t know. Tell me again why we’re arguing over this?”

“I just don’t believe you’ve switched your showers for the mornings. You hate being grimy for bed and you get itchy if you take two showers in one day, so you wouldn’t do that. I’ve never seen you, in my thirty years of knowing you, take a shower in the morning.”

“And I’ve never seen your orgasm face before. There seem to be plenty of things we don’t know about the other, isn’t that right?”

Akira’s eyes flicker over sharply before he quickly catches himself and forces his vision down. “Wow. Um. Okay. That’s...um...that’s actually why I came over. I wanted to talk to you about that,” Akira murmurs. He takes a deep breath and bows his head so low his hair rests on the table, forcing everything out in one quick gust, “I’m really sorry.”

Akechi raises both eyebrows.

“On Christmas Eve, I don’t know what happened. I didn’t mean any of it. I never intended — I would’ve never — But I did. I betrayed Sumi...and I betrayed you. I took advantage of you. You were standing there, upset and needing comfort and I...I don’t know why, but I couldn’t stop myself. I pinned you down. And I forced myself on you. I completely took advantage of your vulnerability and it wasn’t right on so many different levels. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry, Goro. You didn’t deserve to be treated that way.”

Akechi runs his finger along his bottom lip as he watches Akira’s anguish twist up his face. Akira’s thinking of the experience through a lens of horror, but Akechi can only see it through steamy fogged up glass. “...You weren’t the only one involved. It’s not like you forced me. I should’ve stopped you. I knew something wasn’t right.”

“No! No. This isn’t on you. You’re not the one with a fiancé. I don’t know why...I felt like I had to do that with you. I don’t know what happened. It’s all..hazy. But it was me. And I did it and...and it’s frightened me, honestly, how badly I wanted you...”

Akechi feels a hot bolt of pleasure run through him at those words, his lip twitching. He wants to stand on top of the table and lift his arms and scream in victory. He wants to weep with relief. He wants to at least smirk a little. Akechi’s always wanted those words and he’ll take them however he can get them. It’s apparently the only way how.

“You remember the study?” Akechi asks. “All of it?”

“Yes,” he whispers back. Akira’s still biting away at his nails. “The desk, the papers, the window, Sumi... I don’t think it was a panic attack. I’ve been thinking about it. I mean, how many other times have I had panic attacks with you around? Maybe the drink was spiked. Like, ecstasy, you know? The drug. I did some research. You’re probably wondering why there would be ecstasy at Sumi’s dad’s party? Well, I don’t know. But there were so many people there and I was drinking a little more than I usually do. I was nervous about the proposal, about telling you. I was distracted and wasn’t paying attention. And it hit me so quickly, it felt unnatural, you know? Like something injected directly into my bloodstream that just took over. I know what being turned on feels like. It was nothing like that. This was something else: powerful...perverse. Consuming. It had to have been a drug. I couldn’t even...fucking...think. I just wanted. I barely felt human anymore...”

“You’re chewing on your skin again.”

“Ah.” Akira pulls his fingers away from his face, staring at his bloody ends. “...It’s just so strange, Goro. This whole damn thing. I feel like I’m in the twilight zone. We had sex. Sex. You and me. Our experience in that manner has always been so contained to that car in the parking lot. We were young. We were curious. We could blame it all on that. But now...? We can’t say it wasn’t all the way anymore. There’s no going around it. You...you penetrated me...”

Akechi nods slowly, watching the odd little twitch Akira’s face does.

“And I...I put your...” Akira heaves out a huge breath, his forehead vein bulging as he struggles with the words. “I put your penis in my mouth.”

There is no sexier wording than that but Akechi bites at his lip against the torrent of heat rushing through him. Akira on his knees, attending to Akechi with his eyes closed in pure bliss.

Akechi clears his throat and repositions his pants. “That’s true.”

Akira plays with his bangs, rolling them around antsily. “All these years... That time in the car, in the parking lot, I... And then sometimes, you’d seem — I don’t know. And I just...I’d wonder. And then you fucked me. You... Well, I started it. I got you hard. I —” He shakes his head, closing his eyes tightly and leaning his face into his hands. “Goro. I’ve seen your cock.”

“Hm.”

“I...I sucked on it. In my mouth. This mouth. You put it inside me. You played with my —” He opens his hands a crack to peer through it and whisper lowly “—hole. You saw it! You saw it all!”

Akechi presses his lips together and nods seriously.

“Sumi’s never even fucking seen it! I’ve never even seen it!”

“Okay,” Akechi sighs.

“Sorry. Sorry. I’m just...flabbergasted. Mortified. You laid me out on the table and...and looked at me like one of your projects.”

Akechi opens his mouth to protest.

“No, I don’t mean you didn’t care. I just can’t believe I just... I didn’t even protest. I didn’t even want to. It felt...good...to let you see... It felt good to let you...inspect me... Measure me... Do what you want with me... I...” He shakes his head into his hands and groans. “I’m trying to process this all, but I just can’t. I’m still in shock. After we went home, Sumi was so happy and I just felt so disconnected. I couldn’t believe what we’d done. I could still feel it, you know! There was...your cum inside of me,” he whispers harshly, eyes wide and blank. “It was leaking out all over my pants! Leaking! I didn’t even know it did that! Y-your sperm. Inside me! I had to fucking...finger it out in the bathroom. I had to google how, you know! I had no idea you had to finger yourself to get it out. Or if I was even supposed to. It was horrifying. It was —” He takes a long shaky breath. “So... Warm...”

Akechi looks down. Akira’s eyes are shivering with...something. Desire? Remembered pleasure? It feels like a very private unfair moment to be looking into. So Akechi twiddles his thumbs in his lap and watches them go round.

“I still can.” His voice is so oddly low. “Even now. I can still feel you. The way the tip of your penis pressed inside...it was...soft, but hard? It was...” He swallows hard and rubs at his neck, agitated. “Full. I was so full of you... You were inside of me, Goro. You were inside my body — No one has ever — It was so...good... It felt like a revelation...” His voice lowers and his eyes go distant. “And in the bathroom...as I was getting all of your cum out of me...I bent my stomach over the side of the bathtub, knelt on the cool floor, spread my legs, and fingered myself... I fingered myself for an hour over that bathtub, mouth pressed open to the wall, thinking of you — god, it felt so good — before I c — ” He snaps out of it like he just slapped himself across the face and blurts out loudly like Akechi just propositioned him, “We’re not going to do it again!”

Akechi nods again, trying to meditate away the image of Akira fingering himself to completion, probably licking at the wall eagerly like he had in Yoshizawa’s father’s study. Akechi is so zen for having done it. He’s basically a monk. “Okay.”

“You’re not going to touch me. I mean. You can. Just not like that. You’re not going to have sex with me. Or use my mouth. I can’t believe you did that.” He looks up quickly. “Not that it’s your fault. I just mean. I can’t believe I did that, you know?” His brow furrows up tightly. “And liked it.”

Akechi closes his eyes and takes a deep breath.

“But...it doesn’t matter. I don’t know why I’m telling you all of this. I’m just...trying to process it. I’m trying to... It’s not like I can talk about it with Sumi.” He lets out a high unsteady laugh. “Fuck. Am I gay? I mean. I’ve never felt like that before. It was like I was on fire. It pulled from so deep inside me. It’s never been like that before...not with any other woman. Not even close. It was mind blowing. I felt like I fucking saw god. Is that how it was for you? I mean. Fuck. No. Don’t answer that. Sorry. No. I still just...nevermind. We’re not going to do it again. I know we won’t. Because no matter what, I’m not going to allow it. Alright?”

“Alright.”

“But...I’m not going to hide from you anymore either. These past days have been bad. I was really upset... I know I seemed mad at you, but, thinking it over, I was just mad at myself, you know...? I started it. Both times, I started it. It isn’t fair. This is my fault and I’m not going to punish you over it. I know you hate being alone. And I left you alone on Christmas and New Years. I-I’m sorry... I know the holidays are hard on you. I swear I’ll make it up to you.”

“I didn’t exactly say no, Akira.”

“...No, you didn’t,” Akira murmurs, looking troubled. “But still. Nothing’s changed. We won’t do it again. No sex. No...no anything like that.”

“Okay.”

“You’re asexual anyway. And I’m...engaged. I’m fucking engaged, Goro.”

Akechi nods idly, kicking off the table and then thunking to the floor. He does it again in their silence. And again.

Akira’s voice goes quiet. “Are you okay...? You were pretty messed up that night.”

“Hmm. Your proposal just took me by surprise, is all. You know, am I falling behind in life? Am I going to be alone forever? Is Akira going to dress up his old raggedy cat and make him be the ring bearer like you always see in those stupid-as-fuck wedding videos? Those sort of boring things.”

“...Is that really the truth?”

Akechi gives a shrug. “Why wouldn’t it be?”

“I... You just seemed so...betrayed. Like I’d ripped your heart out. Like maybe I’d been hurting you a great deal for a really long time...”

“Perhaps it was the champagne.”

“Did you mean it?”

Akechi waits. When Akira doesn’t say anymore, he raises both of his eyebrows and slams his chair into the ground. “You’re going to have to be more specific than that.”

“Everything you said that night on the balcony. Did you mean it all?”

“I already told you the death thing was a gross exaggeration and I’m perfectly mentally stable.”

“No, not that. Do you...do you...” He clears his throat and tries again. “Do you really...hate me?”

Oh. That. Akechi stares up at the sky, something usually so filled with stars and life and thrill, and finds that he feels nothing. Absolutely nothing. “Sometimes.”

Akira’s quiet for a beat. “Oh.” It comes out as a tight whisper. “I...I guess I can understand that. I am pretty annoying sometimes.”

“Ha.” Akechi asks back in a conversational tone. “Do you ever hate me?”

“No,” Akira whispers. “No, never. I never could.”

“Hm. Is that really true?”

“Of course it is. ...Goro, you’re mine.”

He takes in a long deep breath. “If it makes you feel any better, I hate our parents too. Famous disappearing act.”

“They died.”

“Yes. And I hate them for it.”

Akira sighs as he watches the chair’s legs tilt and slam. “Are you sure you’re alright?”

“Perfectly, Akira. Are you?”

“I...I think I am. As much as I can be after all this. But I know we’ll never do it again, so...I’m alright.”

“Brave of you.”

Akira scratches antsily at his forearm, turning white to red. “God, you’re really worrying me, you know that? Something about your mood right now is reminding me of how you got toward the end of high school. You were so quiet, so mellow, you just went along with everything like a robot. During that time... I can’t put my finger on it, but...” He hesitates. “I know how we both are with change. And this whole wedding thing... I mean...when was the last time you ate?” He looks up at Akechi through a nervous glance.

“This morning,” Akechi lies. “You?”

“Actually this morning.”

Akechi chuckles casually into the back of his hand. “If it makes you feel any better, I’m going back to once a week with Maruki again. He had previously graduated me to monthly sessions. Now, I’m ungraduated. Happy?”

“Once a week is good, isn’t it?”

“Not crazy enough for several times a week anymore, so I’d say so. A happy medium.”

“Oh. Good. A-and you’d tell me, right? You promise you’d tell me if...if it was...” He breaks off, tugging at his collar. “You know. If it was bad.”

Akechi watches him for a long while. “Yes. I already said I would.”

“I know, but...” He looks around like ghosts are listening from within the forest. “If you...if you were...” He takes a deep breath and pushes it out. “Ifyouweregoingtokillyourself. Planning or...or wanting to. You promise? You promise you’d tell me? Promise, Goro.”

He holds in a breath and then gives a tight nod. “Yes. I promise, Akira. I’ll text you or whatever. Imminent urge to kill. Impossible to resist. Please come pick me up.”

“That isn’t funny. It’s not funny at all.”

“I’m sorry. You’re right. I’ll tell you, Akira. I promise.”

“Okay.” Akira rubs both hands over his face. “God. This is all so much. You and Sumi... I don’t know what to do. I...I still don’t know how I should tell her. I’m going to. I just don’t know how. I know I don’t want to spring it all on her suddenly, but that’s as far as I’ve gotten...”

“Sounds like something for a therapist.”

Akira laughs, eyes warming slightly. “Probably, yeah. I should look again, I just...ugh. Like I really want to talk about who I want to come inside me.”

Akechi chokes on his spit.

Akira’s face goes red as he realizes what he just said. “Sorry, I...I don’t know why I keep saying things like that. It’s just, um —” he coughs into his hand. “Just been on my mind, I guess. So...so...um, the wedding stuff. Sumi’s asking.”

Against his permission, Akechi’s stomach sinks. “Ah. So you’re still going forward with it.”

Akira stops. “...Of course we are.”

“Right. Of course.” Akechi gives the most casual shrug he can muster. “I was just thinking that’s the biggest one-eighty of a conversation if there ever was one.”

Akira gives a weary half laugh. “...She wants a spring wedding, so it’s happening pretty quickly. You saw how rich her dad was, so he’s already pulling the strings she needs. She’s chosen Kasumi for her maid of honor and she wants me to officially name my best man.”

“Hmm.”

Akira hesitates. “The obvious choice is you. But now it’s all...” He rubs his face with both hands.

“Now it’s all what?” Akechi asks softly.

Akira looks up out of his hands, eyes bleeding with guilt. “I still want you to be my best man. But I get it. If it’s too much. I don’t want you to feel obligated to take it just because of who you are to me. If it’s easier to stay out of the wedding...if you don’t even want to come, I wouldn’t hold it against you. None of it. I love you either way. Same as always. I want you to do what feels best for you.”

“But?”

“But...if it were my choice, I would want it to be you up there with me.”

Akechi nods slowly. “I hadn’t thought about it, honestly.” He’s been a little busy lately thinking about the stained glass windows. Stained glass windows and rubbing Akira’s cock against it, how its colorful light bathed Akira in rainbows as he panted his bliss up the glass in foggy little clouds, moaning for mercy into the sky.

Akira squirms beneath the non-answer as Akechi continues balancing on the back legs of his chair. Akira grows more distressed the longer the silence drags on and Akechi isn’t in a hurry. He’s thinking of weddings and altars and hands woven in hands — his in Akira’s, Yoshizawa’s in Akira’s — I dos, first kisses...

The high school parking lot.

Cold. Wet. Dead.

Akira naked and leaking on his back over Yoshizawa’s father’s desk, choking on Akechi’s dick as Yoshizawa and Kasumi walked around them, looking for him.

“I can ask Ryuji,” Akira finally breaks the silence, basically gasping. “Or Ann. Or, actually, Makoto lives for this sort of stuff, doesn’t she...? She’d probably love it.”

“Akira. If you still want me, I’ll do it. I wouldn’t want anyone else to be your best man.” He must be crazy. He must love pain.

“...Yeah?” Akira says. He looks up, something wary, a little cautious, but also genuine and raw and happy. “Okay,” he whispers. And then he pats his thighs loudly. “Well! Good. I’m glad.”

“Good. Great,” Akechi echoes back, slamming the legs of his chair back down and then pushing back away.

Akira watches him for the first time in this entire conversation. “If it’s alright with you...let’s just pretend this all never happened. That entire night. The proposal, the balcony, the study... Us. Just...it was horrible. Let’s never speak of any of it again.”

“Alright.” Horrible. There’s another one to add to the kiss bank. Cold and gray and dead and...horrible. Akechi stares blankly into the sky. The more it’s said, he supposes the less he feels. He also feels cold and gray and dead about it. So dead.

Akira stares hard at him. He begins to tap his finger on the edge of the table, leg bouncing, agitated enough for the both of them. “What’s your deal today? You don’t seem to have much of an opinion about anything. You’re just going along with whatever I’m saying. You’re so quiet. You’re never quiet, not with your words and your face.”

Akechi shrugs again. “Want me to fight you?”

“Sort of. That’s what you’d normally do.”

Akechi sighs wearily, closing his eyes. “What would you have me say, then? It was a mistake. We won’t make it again. We’ll take it to our graves, or at most to our therapists. Are you happy with that?”

Akira hesitates. “What do you...?” He stops, sinks his head into his hands, stays there for a moment. Then shakes his head. “Yes. Very happy. Totally completely happy.” He pushes himself back up into a seat. “Thank you, Goro.”

“Mmmmhm.” Akechi keeps tilting back into his seat, watching the birds circle overhead, set in blue.

Akira tilts his neck slightly, looking up with Akechi for a moment before frowning back down at him. “Though I...” Akira clears his throat and reaches his hand across the table, tapping his finger in rapid succession again. “You. How are you about all this? I mean. I didn’t...ask and I know we just said we’ll never talk about it ever again, but I want to know where your head’s at. Honestly. This was huge. You have to have some sort of opinion. I’ve been really curious about it all week long.”

“It was a mistake,” Akechi repeats again. “And we won’t make it again.”

“No,” Akira says slowly. “No, of course we won’t. It didn’t mean anything. ...Did it?”

The sky is so blue. Some days it feels grey and static. It should be static today, but it isn’t. The weather is so odd sometimes. Doesn’t mean anything even though it feels like it should.

“Goro,” Akira says again, seriously. “Did it?”

“What if it did?” Akechi says without emotion, eyes lost in the soft clouds far far away. “What would you do then?”

Akira sits back sharply. His voice becomes gritted and tight. “We’d talk about it. We’d try to set it straight.”

Try to set you straight, it sounds like.

The truth is Akira would never leave Yoshizawa. And, really, Yoshizawa was never the problem. Akechi had two decades of Akira alone, all to himself, and Akira never wanted him then either. It was never Yoshizawa at all.

Akechi drops the chair to all four feet in one loud smack and claps his hands together. “Tell me. What do you get when you cross a heterosexual with an asexual?”

“Um...I...” Akira thinks about it for a moment and then shakes his head. “I don’t have any idea.”

“Me neither. It just sounds like a joke, doesn’t it? Maybe that’s all we are together: a joke.”

“...Goro.”

He turns on his heel so he’s facing Akira, smiling brilliantly. “Kidding. That’s what a joke is for! I’m starving.” He flips his hair over his shoulder and makes his way inside.

Akira follows him in. “Wait a second. I wasn’t done yet. I had something else to ask you.”

“No, you probably can’t get pregnant as you are. But yes, I’m working on something that might be able to change that in you. I’ll pay child support if it’s a success.”

“What? What the hell are you saying? No. I have a huge favor to ask you.”

“Even better,” he mutters, pulling the fridge open and staring inside. Arsène, the fiend. He filled it with all of Akechi’s favorites so he can’t even bitch and groan and complain about how there’s nothing good in here. He glares into the raspberry chiffon cake beneath the glass case. That’s excessive. He’s playing dirty.

“So. Sumi. I know I’ve mentioned it before, but she doesn’t have a lot of friends. In school, the only people who approached her just did to get to Kasumi and so her self-confidence is shot. Not only could she not keep up with Kasumi, but she had the constant reminder that she wasn’t good enough everywhere she went. It really hurt her. When I first approached her, she told me her sister was inside. Can you imagine?”

Akechi grabs the milk carton, uncaps it, and drinks straight from the carton.

“Goro. What the fuck? That’s disgusting.”

Akechi looks up, scowling. “This is my house. I can do whatever the fuck I want. Besides, you liked my mouth just fine the other night.”

Akira blinks, like he’s just been slapped into another world. “Um.”

He rolls his eyes and then gestures his arm widely to the space around them. “Continue.”

“...Fine. Whatever. This weekend, she was thinking of going dress shopping.”

“Jesus. Someone’s eager. You just proposed. Don’t brides usually wait?”

Akira hangs on the other side of the fridge door, looking inside through idle eyes. “Probably depends. It’s really not too long until spring and apparently sometimes you have to order the dress or something and it takes a while, I dunno. She assured me this was normal. Anyway, Kasumi’s going with her, of course, but she wants a third opinion. And I can’t go. The groom shouldn’t see the dress before the ceremony. It’s wedding law.”

“That’s most unfortunate for her.”

Silence settles between them.

Akechi looks up and stares into grey, his stomach sinking. “No. No, no, no. You’re not seriously asking me.”

“You have an impeccable eye, you’re honest, and Sumi respects your opinion. It’s perfect.”

“Are you insane?” Akechi laughs high in disbelief. Punishment. Retribution. Akira hasn’t forgiven him at all, has he? “You must be insane. I’d rather do literally anything else.”

“That’s why it’s a favor.”

“No. No way. Anyone else can do this. Choose Makoto.”

“She’s too intimidating. Sumi’s sensitive.”

“Fine. Ann! She’s a model and she loves clothes.”

“Too loud. Sumi’s sensitive.”

“Haru, then. Haru is perfectly soft and quiet. Sumi can’t possibly find something to be afraid of there.”

“Actually, Haru’s the one she’s afraid of the most. She thinks she’s hiding a secret evil side.” Akira laughs as he wiggles his fingers around the word ‘evil’.

“And you say I need therapy,” Akechi grunts beneath his breath as he shuts the fridge door and shoves Akira off. “What about me? Am I not evil? Intimidating? Surely more than Haru.”

“It’s different,” Akira says in surprise. “You’re mine.”

Akechi stops for a moment at that, torn between the fleeting feeling of elation and despair. He ends on despair, tossing a dirty look at Akira before he turns on his heel and strides out. “Like a dog on your leash.”

“Don’t be dramatic. If that’s anyone, it’s me.”

“Oh, I fucking wish. Toss me the leash, I’ll drag you around.”

Akira laughs as he races around Akechi and dives onto the sofa Akechi was just going to sit on. Akechi scowls and detours to the desk, grabbing one of his half-finished projects and reacquainting himself with it.

“What’s that?” Akira asks.

“It’s to zap you whenever you’re being annoying. And oh, look, perfect timing.”

Akira laughs again. “Okay, Mr. Drama. It’s just a few hours and she’s already picked out the bakery she wants to take you to that I’ve approved. I think you two could really have fun together. I really want you two to get along, Goro... That would really mean a lot to me.”

“So many things mean a lot to you. It’s tiring.”

“I’ll owe you.”

Boundaries. Boundaries and putting his foot down for his own health and it isn’t much to ask, really, not having to watch the perfect Yoshizawa get the perfect wedding dress she’ll be wearing on the perfect first night of her and Akira’s perfect life together. Choosing the dress for her that’ll entice Akira to fuck and lose himself in. She’ll lay down on their hotel mattress, lift that thick white skirt Akechi chose, offer up her genitals, and Akira will plunge inside her body and give her his own. He’ll try to impregnate her, try to combine their DNA and make something special, tie their fate together...

Boundaries.

“No. Nice try. I’m not doing it,” Akechi says evenly, pulling out his drawers and taking out his fine detailing tools. “If you think this is going to erase what we did the other night, then you’re delusional. I’m not becoming best friends with your great fiancé and suddenly seeing the light. I’ll be civil, but don’t ask for more than that from me.”

Akira’s eyebrows raise and he blinks. “...No. No, I didn’t mean for it to be like that.”

Akechi doesn’t look up. “Don’t deny you have ulterior motives.”

Akira sighs and casts a quick look behind his shoulder. “Okay. Don’t tell her I told you this but...she’s under the impression that when I proposed to her, you got mad with me because you loathe her. She thinks when I ran after you, what we fought was about...well, about her. No matter what I say, she’s convinced you think I could find someone better than her.”

“I do think that.”

“Goro.”

“What,” he mutters beneath his breath, cramming a tool deep into a crack until he hears the gears grind and protest. He crams it in harder.

“Lately, I’ve been...off. And she’s noticed and now she’s creating all these stories about how it’s her fault. She’s really torn up about it; she thinks she’s putting a wedge between our friendship and she doesn’t want that. She wants to win your approval for me. ...I don’t really think that’s going to happen and I’m not asking that out of you. But could you just...please. Let her have a few hours of your time to try. She really doesn’t have any friends. She’s faced rejection after rejection after rejection and I think she sees all of that in you and it makes her feel unworthy.”

“How is that my problem?”

“Because you and I are so fucking close, Goro, that’s why. Can you please just...do me this huge favor. This one huge favor. I’ll owe you for life. Go dress shopping with her. Make her feel like you can maybe someday sort of kind of approve of her.”

“What if I don’t?” Akechi mumbles.

“Goro,” Akira says quietly. “Enough. I meant everything I said in that speech. I want her around...but I want you around too. The other night, what we did — it kinda messed me up... I don’t — I just need...I need to feel like you’re trying. You don’t have to like it. But just supporting her for two hours out of an entire day will mean a lot to me. Two hours. You can time it. That’s all I’m asking.”

Akechi sighs and picks away at his new device. Sounds like punishment to him. Repentance. Does he want Akechi to crawl and grovel at his feet too? They both know he’d fucking do it.

“The bakery is really fucking good, I promise.”

When Akechi doesn’t reply, Akira sighs. He shifts off his seat and leaves the room for a moment, headed for the foyer. Akechi can hear him shifting around through something.

He shouts through the house before he makes it back to Akechi, his voice echoing off the walls. “...By the way, I don’t think I ever told you thank you for the Christmas gift. It’s really beautiful. I’m wearing it now, haven’t taken it off since...well, since you put it on me. I mean, I did wash it a bit, but...thank you. It’s gorgeous.”

Akechi keeps working, quietly thinking of how he put it on. What it’s infused with. Moonlight...and cum. He takes a deep breath. “It’s nothing. I just saw it and wanted you to have it.”

Akira leans his hip on the table beside Akechi. His voice goes delicate. “Reminds me of your mother’s.”

He gives a soft laugh. He knew Akira would understand. “Doesn’t it? I thought that too. You cried so many tears over that thing.”

“Well...it was a bad time. We’d already lost so much, I just...I couldn’t take one more thing... Thought I’d fucking crumble into dust when I found out it was missing... But it feels like it’s back again somehow. It really does look like hers, like a sibling piece or something. It fills that odd hole in my heart. I’m honestly surprised by how much. I really do love it...”

“Mm. I’m glad,” he whispers, masking just how glad he actually is. He keeps his face flat, uninterested, but his heart is bursting.

“This makes my gift look like shit.”

Akechi smirks, turning his head to give Akira an amused look. “...I knew you’d break the rule.”

Akira slaps down a large rectangular present wrapped in classy thick paper against the desk. “Merry Christmas. I also saw this and thought of you and wanted you to have it. Correction: needed you to have it. You’ll see. I added some personal touches just for you.”

Akechi puts down his work and flicks his gaze up at Akira, eyebrow arched in amusement. Akira’s eyes are dancing with play; he always comes up with the zaniest, strangest things to give Akechi. What do you get a person who already has everything money can buy? Apparently whatever makes Akira laugh the hardest. Akechi carefully peels the wrapping paper off of the book and slides the contents out.

It’s a calendar. Giant muscular firemen adorn the pages, holding tiny cats, saving them from trees in over-the-top poses, flexing muscles into the camera. They glisten, shirtless, majestic before over-the-top dramatic backgrounds. Hardly any clothes are involved.

“Oh. Wow.”

That’s not all. Old photos of Akechi have been carefully cut out and pasted in the most damsel-in-distress sort of positions. Flipping through, Akechi can see each month’s fireman has a specific Akechi to compliment him, usually in the man’s muscular arms or next to the cats. “This is...um. Creative.”

Akira bursts out laughing as Akechi holds it delicately between thumb and forefinger. “I told you it was shit. Sorry. I’m sorry, now I feel bad. I didn’t realize you were going to get me something so nice.”

Akechi can’t help but laugh. “You are such a fucker. How long did it take you to do this?”

“Oh, yeah. I mean. A while, but don’t worry, it was well worth it. You’re rocked in their manly arms. Held so safe and warm. Precious, cute little Goro.”

“Ugh. Stop. You’re disturbing.” He sits up and reaches into his tool box, nailing it to the wall. “There. Now you have to look at it whenever you come in. As punishment.”

Akira laughs merrily, sitting on the side of the table. “That’s fair.” He begins picking up some of Akechi’s tools to fiddle with. “So. I was thinking. Tomorrow, you, Sumi, and Kasumi can go dress shopping for an hour or two tops.” The tool slips and pinches Akira’s fingers. “Ow.”

“Oh my god, are you still going on about that? Akira, I said no.” Akechi snatches it out of his hands and slams it to the table.

“Okay, but wait until you hear the new angle. I have a gig tomorrow! Swing by the bakery and then come pick me up at the club when I’m done and I’ll buy you drinks. Whatever you want, on me.”

For that, Akechi looks up. “I didn’t know you had another gig coming up. So soon after the last? Where?”

“Jazz Jinn again. They fucking loved me and they pay really well. Plus, I get a fifty percent discount on drinks so, obviously, they’re the fucking best. Unlimited drinks, Goro, for you. I’ll even drive you home!”

“Akira, that’s...really amazing. Jazz Jinn is super strict about who they hire. I rarely see them bringing people back. They must adore you.”

Akira waggles his eyebrows playfully but his grin is filled with genuine joy at the compliment. He rubs at the tip of his pink nose. “I don’t get off until ten. Come by and watch. You’ve never seen any of my recent performances. I’ve improved, you know.”

“I won’t mess up your vibe?”

“Don’t be ridiculous, I’m impervious. If anything, I’ll feel even more comfortable knowing you’re in the audience. I’d love you there.”

An invite. Akechi looks down and stares at his stupid hands. His imagination takes him away: Akira, performing under the jazz club’s soft lighting, hands outstretched through the warm golden glow, his eyes closed as he loses himself to his own voice. So enraptured in the atmosphere and act that he looks as if he’s bathed in sex.

Jazz Jinn was Akechi and Akira’s hangout throughout high school. Whenever Akechi came home to visit during those University years, they went straight there. It’s become a bit of their special place, like the childhood home they never really had, a place of safety and comfort. Nostalgic comfort. A place to relax, to unwind, to feel held in the last bit of their mothers’ embrace.

And now, Akira’s singing there. Akechi remembers sitting at the tables with Akira, sipping on drinks, watching the professionals glitter and shine as they performed in the light. They seemed so faraway then, standing in a place so unobtainable. Something his mother did. Akira’s grown so much and Akechi can’t help but feel an odd emotional tug deep in his chest, a stab behind his eyes. How could he possibly miss an invite like this? Even with the cost.

A few hours with Yoshizawa. Akira, happy. Akechi, redeemed.

So much for boundaries and putting his foot down. He’s a masochist, probably.

“Fine,” Akechi whispers, shoving his creation away. He crosses his arms tightly over his chest and leans back in his chair as he whirls to glare unhappily at Akira. He kicks his feet up on Akira’s lap and nestles in just to be annoying. “But if you think this is going to make me fall in love with your Yoshizawa, think again. Your efforts are for naught.”

Akira pats Akechi’s ankles happily. “Yeah, yeah. I’m not asking for some romantic affair.”

“You know what I mean. Just don’t expect anything. I’m only doing this for you.”

“Heard and noted. Thank you, Goro, for doing this for me. I owe you so big now. I really appreciate you going even if it won’t help you fall in love with her, which is tragic. But you might.”

“I will not.”

“Might?”

“No.”

“C’mon.” Akira laughs. “I have impeccable taste, don’t I?”

Blandly, Akechi gestures to the calendar hanging over them in lieu of a response.

“Wellll, I’m friends with your sorry butt, after all. That’s got to mean something.”

Akechi glances sideways at him, trying to keep the emotion off his face, but, looking into Akira’s light, Akechi can’t help but laugh back.

“So Akira has done the unthinkable,” Akechi says into his fingers as he stares off into space. “He’s promised himself to someone else, someone not me, gave them the wedding ring I always thought would be mine, and got so scared after our fight, he avoided me for a week. He’s never done that before. Never. ...This is exactly the nightmare I feared it’d be, playing out just like I predicted. But...despite it all, he’s still here. And so am I. I somehow don’t feel as bad as I thought I would, given all I have to lose. ...He says he still loves me.”

Akechi kicks off the bar on the back of his desk, letting himself face the ceiling. He stares at the light up there. “I’ve been feeling...guilty. I haven’t fully sorted out why. It’s still partly the dream, but it feels like it goes so much deeper than that. I just...want so much from him. So much more than he can give and I know that. Now with the wedding, with his new fiancé, I feel like I’m just putting added stress on him. I’ve been hard on him, I think. Like wanting to get married, a perfectly normal thing to do, is his fault... I think I made him feel that way. And the feeling just sits like a monster filling my throat.”

“Have you tried apologizing? Telling him how you feel?” Maruki says. “A simple apology can work wonders. And we both know how much you mean it.”

“Yeah...I mean...yeah. Maybe I should try while I have the energy. I’ve been feeling pretty okay, actually. I wasn’t sure I would, but...I don’t know. I suppose things are just going so well. Akira’s excited about everything, buzzing about like a little bee. I haven’t seen him so happy in years. My only worry is something’s going to flip me like a switch. We’re dealing on such a fine line here and you know how I can get... It’s hard to keep my emotions logical, even with the tools you’ve given me.”

“Oh!” Maruki looks up and snaps his fingers. “That reminds me! I forgot to tell you, Goro, I just remembered something the other day that might help. Remember when you and I were first seeing each other? You and Akira used to use the light system. Remember that? Yellow, for when things were getting iffy. Red, for when you needed it all to stop. And green, of course, when things were good. What if you implemented that system again?”

“That’s a child’s thing. ...Or a BDSM thing.”

“Is it? Well, can’t it also be an Akira and Goro thing? You’re navigating a world you perceive as very chaotic. It’s difficult to put a name to the more wild emotions that come and go, but, this way, you don’t have to. It’s okay to go easy on yourself and give yourself a communication system that’s clear and works. If you need a moment to breathe, just break out the red! Easy as that. He used to really like it, didn’t he?”

“Ugh. Yes. He loves all that corny shit you come up with.”

Maruki laughs. “Sometimes you can be difficult to read, even for someone as adept at the Goro Akechi language as Akira may be. And sometimes it’s difficult for you to tell Akira you need a moment to process. It might give him a little help too. You never know. Maybe it’ll lessen his stress, lessen your guilt.”

“Ugggh, you’re right. I’ll remind him. I want this to work out. I want this all to work out. It’s time, you know? I’ve thought about it a lot these past few days — the wedding, I mean. And it’s just...we used to be so miserable as kids, so dark. We both talked about death way more than any child should, it was basically our lives, living and growing comfortable in the shadows. And now? Him being here? In total sunlight. That can’t be anything other than a good thing. He made it. That’s great.

“He’s been careful to take breaks talking about it too, so it doesn’t feel overwhelming for me. So fucking thoughtful even in the middle of all the wedding planning. It’s working though. My head doesn’t feel like it’s being weighed down by a million stones like it usually does. That has to mean something.”

Maruki writes down a note. “So the medication is sitting well with you?”

“A bit hungrier than usual, but Akira’s pleased about that. He always wants me to eat more.”

“You’re getting your appetite back. That’s great news.”

“Yep. And Akira’s singing at the Jazz Jinn tomorrow. He invited me to come see him, so I think maybe I’ll do that.”

“Goro,” Maruki says softly, tilting his head and smiling with pride. “You haven’t been out for pleasure in a while now. Look at you. That sounds incredible. He’s worked really hard to get where he is and, finally, it’s paying off. That must be so exciting for you, being able to see the fruits of his labor...and yours.”

“Yeah...he’s amazing. I’m so happy at least one of us can get out. One of us can grow. That’s all I really wanted so...it’s good. It’s all good.”

“You both are growing, Goro. You both are stepping into the sunlight. Don’t forget to acknowledge your own accomplishments too, not just Akira’s. You have a tendency to do that.”

“Yes, it’s all very exciting for both of us.” He takes a long deep breath, still staring into that artificial light. It stabs into his mind. “Everything’s great. Really great. For him and for me. Everything’s just falling right into place. Right where it belongs...”

“Thank you so much for coming with me today, Goro. Is ‘Goro’ still okay? Or do you prefer ‘Akechi’? Because I can go back to that, if you want. I’m fine with either, it’s no problem for me, it’s whatever you prefer, really. My feelings won’t be hurt either way. Promise. Whatever you’re most comfortable with, that’s the one for me!”

Akechi is already regretting his decision and he’s only — he checks his watch — one entire minute into his two hours of torment and torture.

He bites at his lip to hold back his sigh and says as pleasantly as he can muster, “A name is only a name. Neither is illegal in my book.”

“Um... That doesn’t really...”

“‘Goro’ is fine,” he sighs. Akira would prefer that.

“Great! Thanks, Goro,” Yoshizawa smiles brightly and nudges at him with her elbow as she rocks onto the balls of her feet. They’re both standing outside the bridal dress shop, waiting for Kasumi to arrive. If he had known that he’d be left alone with Yoshizawa this long, he would have left later. Way later. Like never.

To make matters worse, the place is oddly busy. Akechi had no idea this many people get married at any given time. Maybe it has something to do with spring but there are way too many happy squeals for comfort around here. If he gets recognized, he swears to god, he’s going to just turn around and leave.

Would he mind so much, he wonders, if he were the fiancé in this case? Would he need this spring wedding?

No. He’d take Akira anywhere honestly. Wherever Akira wanted him. Whenever. Spring, summer, autumn, winter. It doesn’t matter. He’d take him in the sewers, he’d take him on a raft stranded in the ocean. All that matters is that Akechi have him.

Which season would Akira choose though...? If it were for the two of them? Maybe winter. The quiet of night, a blanket of soft powdered snow, covered in a hush of twinkling stars.

Yoshizawa makes a soft happy noise in her throat as she waves her arm in the air, attention across the street. “Hi hi!! Over hereeeeeee!”

“Oh, hey, Sis,” Kasumi breathes as she jogs across the street and stops in front of them. “Akechi! Wow! You really came! I’m surprised, I thought Sumi was joking when she said you were meeting us. Poor thing. Akira got you bad, huh?”

Akechi gives her a bland smile. “What can I say? A style crime is as severe as any and I won’t allow Akira to look a fool on his wedding day. Don’t worry, I’ll be approving all of his choices too.”

They smile uncertainly at them and he gives a soft snort. “I’m joking. I know the stereotype about gay men and fashion, but I am going to have to disappoint you today. I know next to nothing about it. I have other things to worry about. Like whether or not I’m actually gay in the first place...it’s such a bother.”

“Well, whatever you are, you always dress nicely,” Kasumi smiles crookedly. “Look at you now, you put the rest of us to shame.”

He looks down at his clothes, plucking at the form fitting attire. He’s never really known what he looks like. He just...is. “My butler dresses me. Your Roomba doesn’t provide that service?”

She snorts and knocks her fist in her skull. “Shoot. Gotta upgrade to the premium edition. I’m getting behind.”

“Quite. Speaking of getting behind, it seems our appointment has already begun. I believe time is limited. We shouldn’t miss a minute. After you?” He holds the door open for the both of them.

Dresses. Dresses everywhere. It isn’t as if Akechi was ever going to buy one himself, but looking at them draws a strange prickling over his skin. Like dread, perhaps. Or maybe, more accurately, it’s the premonition of looking into everything he’ll never have.

That’s a thought.

Yoshizawa and Kasumi take to the aisles with the bridal consultant, digging through all the fluffy white. Akechi really is a poor excuse for the stereotype: they all look the same to him. He follows behind idly, reaching his fingers out to touch the delicate white lace, running his hands over the silk embroidered flowers, imagining all the brides that these will make so happy. Everyone getting fucked in these dresses. That’s what they are, aren’t they? Fabric to be fucked in. Akechi’s eyes go distant.

“These three, I think,” Yoshizawa says, breaking through his reverie. He’s not sure how long he’s been zoning out for. “Goro, would you be okay waiting out by the seating? I’m going to go try these on. I’ll be out after each one though! I need your opinion.”

“Hm? Right. Yes.”

The consultant looks between them and says, “Is this the groom? It’s pretty common that the groom shouldn’t see the bride in her dress until the day of the wedding. Otherwise, it’s bad luck.”

“Oh! No, this is my groom’s best man, basically his brother. My fiancé really respects his opinion, so who better to ask?”

What should Akira fuck me in?

Akechi quickly swaps his frown out for an easy casual smile as the woman turns to him.

“How sweet,” the woman says, smiling at him. “Look after her for him.”

He gives a slight bow. “Of course.”

Yoshizawa’s hands fly to cover her mouth as she makes a small emotional squeak, but Kasumi whirls her toward the rooms by her shoulders before she can say anything, thank god. Away they go.

Akechi sits alone. He looks to the left and right, at groups of young excited women with their mothers and friends, preparing for their special day. He hates it here. It makes him feel like he did everything wrong.

Though Yoshizawa and Kasumi have disappeared, Akechi can still hear their voices, muffled by the walls.

“Well, he looks miserable,” Kasumi murmurs quietly.

“I know. I feel so bad. I think we’re torturing him. Akira suggested it and it sounded so great at the time, but now I’m beginning to think Goro doesn’t really like clothes all that much after all...”

“If his butler dresses him, I guess why bother?”

“Yeah...”

“Hey. Don’t worry about that. This is your day. He’s a big boy and he’s the one who decided to tag along, so don’t you dare even think of blaming yourself for it. That’d just be silly.”

“You’re probably right...”

“Of course I am. Try on your dresses. It’ll be fine. We’ll make sure to get him something good at the bakery to make up for it. Everyone wins!”

“You’re right, you’re right.”

Akechi rubs at his face and sighs. Fucking Akira and his grand ideas. Not everyone can be in a fucking fairytale around him and the people who suffer for his delusions are them.

After a while, loud shuffling approaches and Akechi looks up as Yoshizawa spins in front of him. Her deep red hair is a flaming contrast against the pure snow white dress that covers her but she chose soft lace-y gloves that lend to her delicate features.

“Hey Goro,” she says brightly, giving a little turn. Her red hair spins over her waist like a lush curtain. “What do you think? As Akira’s Goro, would he love it?”

Would he hammer into me in this?

Akechi stares, lips parted, trying to find the right words. He doesn’t know how to feel about Yoshizawa, there are so many conflicting emotions wherever she’s involved. She’s a thief of his most precious treasure. How could he forgive her?

But, right now, her eyes are shining with light and love as she plays with the skirt of her big white fluffy dress. And he thinks of Akira. What he would feel if he were here in his place. How he always says she brings light to his life...maybe he can see it.

“You...you look like a princess.” There’s nothing else to say.

She glows and squeaks, giving another delighted little spin with even more zest this time. The dress gathers at her feet in a fluffy showy twist, like snow dusting the floor beneath her.

“He’s right.” Kasumi walks around Sumi with an analytical eye. “I really like this one on you. It hugs your figure in a really flattering way, but doesn’t look too uncomfortable. How does it feel?”

“Would it be crazy to say I absolutely love it? I want to try on the others just in case, but I really like it. Oh, Kas, I think this is the one!” She turns into the mirror and stares at her reflection, eyes twinkling. “I think Akira would too,” she says in a tender soft voice. She takes another spin, grinning widely. “And I really do feel like a princess in this dress! It’s so fun!”

“It cannot be this easy,” Kasumi says as she keeps fidgeting with the skirt. “Try to be a little bit more of a bridezilla. We’ve only been here a few minutes. It isn’t right!”

“Yeah, but they’ve been pretty quality minutes.”

“Go. March. Try on another.”

“Alright, alright, so bossy. But is it so illegal to have a good feeling?” Sumi sticks out her tongue. “Please wait a bit longer! I’ll be right back!”

Yoshizawa disappears back around the corner but Kasumi stays behind this time. She crosses her arms tightly and tilts her head down at Akechi, smiling knowingly.

“Hanging in there?” Her eyes are twinkling too. Maybe it’s just genetic.

Akechi holds up his hands. “Don’t fret about me. It’s your sister’s day, after all. That’s easy enough to recognize.”

“Oh, yeah? It was nice of you, by the way. Coming out here with her. I know you two aren’t really close.”

“Akira requested it. He’s quite fond of her, you see.”

“And what Akira wants, Akira gets.”

He chuckles softly. “...Yes.”

“What a little stinker he is. You’re all he talks about, you know. Sumi’s heard all the stories and then some, so she thinks a great deal of you. I know you’ve got to be busy being a big shot and all, but I’m glad you’re here. I know it means a lot to them.”

“I wasn’t busy. Actually, I’ve reached the point in my career where no one can tell me to do anything. So I pretty much have free rein to do what I want, whenever I want. They can’t afford to lose me. No one else can fill my shoes.”

She whistles lowly. “Wow. I bet they love you at work.”

He smiles back crookedly. “You understand.”

“So. Have you decided what you’re doing for the bachelor party yet? We have a pretty tight timeline. I already reserved our lakefront cabin we used to go to as kids. We’re bringing Ann and them. I’ll have Akira give you the date so there’s no overlap.”

Akechi crosses his arms and rolls his eyes to the ceiling. “It’s still up in the air. Akira is so easy going that he’s the exact opposite of easy going.”

She laughs. “Sumi’s the same way, that’s why I just had to make the call right off the bat or else I’d go in circles for ages. They really are similar, huh? I’m sure he’d be happy anywhere.”

“Yes. That’s the problem. Everywhere is fine. So nowhere is perfect.”

“And you love to have things perfect.”

“I like things a certain way. All or nothing with no in between.”

“I’m sure whatever you choose, he’d be delighted. It’s the company that counts. Especially for someone like Akira.”

“Yes. Speaking of them — his company. They’re already wanting something tacky like Vegas. Or clubbing. Us. Clubbing. Akira’s going with it. I can’t tell what he’d like most. I’m guessing it wouldn’t be a day on the oceanside, reading books and sipping drinks in peaceful silence, unfortunately.” He sighs airily. “He always says whatever will make us happy. It makes me insane. What he doesn’t realize is that we’d all agree with him if he could only just make up his mind, but we’ll all fight like dogs in a pit if he lets us decide. It’s actually evil.”

She laughs harder. “Yeah, I can see that. He loves you guys.”

“Love can be deadly. Especially his.”

“Yikes. Should I tell Sumi?”

“Tell me what?” Yoshizawa rounds the corner again, this time, in a different dress. It’s a sharper cut, more revealing and less princess-y, more sleek and mature. It doesn’t suit her at all.

Kasumi turns to her warmly. “That you’re gorgeous and look amazing.”

“Pfft. That’s not what you were talking about,” she says, but she blushes anyway, smiling sweetly at Kasumi as she sways her dress back and forth, patting the waistline.

Kasumi walks around her thoughtfully. “What do you think?”

“I dunno...” Yoshizawa turns, but the dress doesn’t fluff about like playful snow this time and her frown grows. “Goro? You?”

He doesn’t even have to look at the dress. “It doesn’t seem to bring you the same level of joy the last one did, so I’d vote no.”

She looks up thoughtfully before a smile lights up her face. “It doesn’t, does it? I like that perspective. Does it bring joy: yes or no. You know what? That makes it so easy. Dress lady?” She raises her hand, reaching out to flag the lady at the receptionist desk. “Excuse me? Shoot, what do you call them again...?”

The ring on her left hand catches the bright lights from above. Akechi knows to keep his head and eyes down, to keep himself neutral, detached, unaffected, and maybe he’ll survive this day relatively unscathed. Two hours. He can do two hours.

But there it is. Akira’s mother’s ring again. It twinkles in the sky, like it’s calling out to him. Like she’s calling out to him.

What did you do wrong? Akira’s mother sighs. You had him. He was right in the palm of your hand, but you didn’t try hard enough and you fucked it all up.

Kasumi notices. Yoshizawa looks back, going to ask her a question. She follows her gaze to Akechi and catches him staring.

“Oh!” She says merrily. “You haven’t seen it yet, have you? It was his mom’s!”

She holds her hand out in front of his face. It looks so odd, the sight. It’s a ring he’s seen a million times, in person, in his imagination, on his own too-small finger, and now it’s been removed, repurposed. It looks so foreign from this perspective. It probably wouldn’t even fit him anymore, stretched and reworked to slip onto her instead. It would’ve fit him perfectly.

Akechi hesitates before he takes her hand delicately into his, staring down at something he knows better than she does, maybe than she ever will. A hot barbed feeling claws through his chest. Jealousy, unnaturally fierce and bright.

“Isn’t it so neat? It’s the only family heirloom he has left.”

Neat. Akechi bites his tongue and carefully puts away the variety of close family comments he could say. There are so many. She doesn’t even know.

He’s fucked Akira. He took his bottom virginity. He was his first kiss, his first experience with cum other than his own, his first blowjob. Without even being near, Akechi made Akira finger himself over the tub, touch himself, pleasure himself, and then climax on the cold tile floors like a whore. Like his whore —

He takes a deep steadying breath. “Yes. That certainly is special.”

“She wore it herself. It feels like a piece of her is here, you know? Giving her blessing. Even if I never met her.”

Akechi releases her hand, hoping just to drop the whole thing, but she’s focused on it now.

Yoshizawa turns it, looking up at it in the light. She hums happily, staring at the ring for a long while, dreamy smile on her face. She’s just like the rest of the women in the room, bathed in happiness and possibilities. Security. The inner glow of one who is undoubtedly loved. Loved by Akira. Akechi wouldn’t know.

Yoshizawa turns back to him. “You knew her, didn’t you? What was she like? Was she soft and tender like Akira? Or serious and strict like you?”

He forces out a huff of a laugh. “Is that how you see us? It was a long time ago. I imagine my view of her is quite warped. She seemed...wild. Free. In a lot of ways, she was very much like Akira, though ‘soft and tender’ aren’t the words I’d personally use to describe either of them.”

“Really? How funny. I think it’s so cool you knew her. If only we could go back in time.”

“Yes,” he murmurs. “I wish that too.”

“Akira mentioned bringing me to meet your mothers this weekend to tell them the news. After all this time, he’s never done that before. It seemed so private to him, I was wondering if he ever would, so now I’m all nervous. Do you have any tips, Goro?”

Akechi blinks up in surprise. Their mothers?

“I was thinking of bringing flowers to put on her grave, but I was wondering...did his mother have a favorite? Do you know? I was going to ask Akira but I want it to be a surprise.”

Akechi is shocked. It’s so private. If nothing else was sacred, at least he felt secure knowing nothing could touch their memories. He doesn’t want to give this to her, what did she do to deserve it, but... His mother is Akira’s as much as Akira’s is his. And his mother would want to see this, would want Akira to have this. “...Lavender,” he says softly, picking at his nails until it hurts. “She used to love lavender.”

“Oh! That’s nice and easy, I love lavender!”

“Yes. I know.” He can always smell it on her. In their house, mixed with Akira’s scent.

“What an acute observer you are, Goro Akechi! I’m impressed! What else do you know about her? Oh! I know what I want to ask. Do you... Um. Do you think she’d like me? Honest answers only please. I won’t tell Akira that I asked or what you said, no matter how bad it might be.”

“Oh my god, Sumi,” Kasumi chuckles into her hands. “You can’t just ask that.”

“What? Why not? I can take it.”

She can’t take it.

What he knows is this: Akira’s mother wanted someone strong and cunning and sharp and complex for Akira, someone who could care for him, not just be cared for by him, someone who stood as his equal, who would lift him up if he fell. Not someone bouncy and unstable and insecure, always trying to poke Akira for attention and coddling. And it makes him so mad at the unfairness of it all, so upset at what could’ve — no, should’ve — been.

Akira’s mother wanted him for Akira. Akechi was made to be just what she asked him to be. She’d be proud, she would.

But Akechi is not here for her. He’s not here for himself, either. He’s here for Akira. So, after a brief but intense inner fight with himself, he says, “Akira likes you, doesn’t he? And I know he’s got most everyone else convinced otherwise, but he’s so much more closed off than she ever was. Take his preference for you as your proof.”

Akechi doesn’t expect it when Yoshizawa takes a step in and leans down, clasping both laced-gloved hands over his cheeks as she stares him straight in the face. He blinks up at her, affronted, too surprised and shocked by the touch to shove her away.

She is the divine image of beauty and grace. Her eyes are so large, so open and true...just like Akira’s. They’re devastatingly naive though and, because of that, filled to the brim with goodness. And only that.

Akira’s kissed her.

“Thank you, Goro,” she says earnestly.

Akira’s made love to her. These lips. These hands. This neck right before him. The scent rolling off her skin and piercing Akechi through. They’re all Akira’s. He’s had a taste...so many times.

But Akechi’s touched him too. Doesn’t that mean anything...? This body, this face...

“Akira’s right about you. You are sweet, aren’t you?”

That jolts him out of it. He jerks his head away, falling back onto the palms of his hands as he splutters. “Based on what?”

She and Kasumi giggle together as she straightens herself back up. “We’ll take it!” She says brightly to the lady who led them in. “We will take the joy dress!”

Yoshizawa and Kasumi bounce merrily side-by-side as they laugh and chatter to each other the entire way to the bakery. They are two peas in a pod. Healthy, bright, and vibrant. Who needs friends, when you have sisters? Akira overexaggerated her loneliness by a mile, she clearly isn’t lacking anything, she didn’t need him.

Akechi strays behind. He watches solemnly as he tries to understand Akira’s attraction to her, but it’s an impossible task.

He’s not exactly straight, that’s one thing for certain, but there are beautiful things about her, perhaps. Her eyelashes are fairly thick, Akechi guesses. That’s usually a thing people like. They’re not as thick as Akira’s though and her bottom lashes are nearly absent. Akira isn’t lacking in either and it’s devastating.

Her eyes are pretty, Akechi guesses, if you like the whole lost in the woods deer-eyed Bambi thing. But again, they don’t have any of the sharpness, the elusive moonlit mystery that Akira’s eyes always bathe him in. When she looks at Akechi, it’s a soft gaze, it doesn’t pin him and strip him raw, so he’s not sure what Akira sees there because there isn’t really anything to see at all.

Body-wise, well, Akechi’s at a total loss. She has one. That’s...nice? Akira probably likes breasts. Does he? Now that Akechi thinks about it, he can’t remember a time Akira brought it up, even when he was a horny teen. And Akira brought up strange things during that time. Once they were running home from school in the torrid rain and they slipped in some thick clay-like mud. Akira said he wished there were more of it so he could be submerged. Submerged. What was he — some sort of horny mermaid? He had a weird look on his face as he said it, hazy. Like he was wanting. That was odd. But no, he never mentioned breasts.

Akechi stares off into the distance, thoughtfully. Maybe Akira was trying to spare his feelings. Akechi was pretty obviously gay or something of the sort from the get-go, even if he hadn’t confessed or even really known himself, maybe Akira knew subconsciously. Akechi’s never thought about a breast that way ever. He just doesn’t understand it. It’s fat. It’s fat in a round shape. So what? What’s the big deal?

Though...Akira’s nipples are very soft, very delicate. Akechi knows that now. Him. From experience. Does Yoshizawa? Did she ever try to pleasure Akira by his breasts? Touch him there... That rosy pink...Akechi bets it’d look even pinker after being suckled for a good few minutes, Akira whining and writhing beneath him... His hands knotting in Akechi’s hair as he begged him on breathy moans.

Stop, Akira would shiver weakly, but Akechi would only grow more relentless. He wouldn’t stop. Not until Akira would come for him.

Yoshizawa and Kasumi lean in together, giggling away. Akechi notices too late that they’re both flicking their gaze back at him. Two pairs of identical eyes watching him.

He blinks back.

“What are you thinking about?” Kasumi smiles crookedly, eyes narrowing. “You have a strange look on your face.”

He bites at his lip, caught assessing Yoshizawa. This is horrible. Can’t exactly say he was trying to see what Akira saw in her or daydreaming about making her fiancé come by sucking his nipples. He shakes his head. “I’ve wanted a twin when I was younger. Someone who knew me. A built-in friend. I was just wondering what it was like to have that. If you ever switched places, would you get away with it?”

“Oh, we most certainly have,” Kasumi grins brightly, walking backwards with casual ease as she swings her arms back and forth. “No one’s ever caught us.”

“We could be switched right now, for all you know,” Yoshizawa says.

Akechi narrows his eyes at the both of them, trying to scope out a Yoshizawa from a Kasumi. “But you two have starkly different personalities.”

“That’s what acting’s for! It’s great, honestly, having a sister,” Yoshizawa says. “And it’s even more fun having a twin. It helps that Kasumi is the best.”

“Aww,” Kasumi wraps her arms around Yoshizawa and draws her in close. “No, you.” She hums happily as she holds on so tight that Yoshizawa tips sideways with a squawk. “But Akechi, wouldn’t you already know what it’s like? The way Akira talks about you, you might as well be twins.”

“Fraternal twins!” Yoshizawa chirps. “It’s a thing!”

“Yes, I suppose. That’s what our mothers intended, at least. They’d been close friends before either of us were even conceived. It was already sort of set in the stars before our births, really.”

“I like the way you put that. Sounds so celestial, like the gods set it up for you. Like how Pegasus got created from clouds, you know?”

“Mm,” Akechi makes a soft sound in his throat. “I dunno about that. That’s the cartoon version. The actual mythology is that Pegasus was born from the severed neck of Medusa.”

“...Ew. Nevermind then. Maybe you don’t want to be born from that.”

“Not so pleasant, no.”

Yoshizawa runs to the next building over and gestures toward it. “Here it is! Don’t worry, I’ll order. Goro, Akira already told me what you want, so you don’t even have to think about it! Why don’t you just sit? Kasumi, pick us a good table, will you?”

Akechi doesn’t enjoy being managed, but Kasumi tosses an amused look his way — one of deep understanding — and it softens the blow somehow. He both hates and likes how much she seems to get him without either of them having to say a word.

It’s an oddly hot day and, for some terrible reason, the inside of the bakery is warm. Akechi sits across from Kasumi and twists his hair over his shoulder with one hand, while he fans his face with the other.

If Akira were with him, he’d complain and that would relieve some of his tension. But he is not, so Akechi bottles it in. Grits his teeth. Fans himself a bit harder.

Are the two hours up yet? He checks his watch. It’s hardly been over one. Drat.

Kasumi tilts her head to assess him. “Your face is super flushed. You look like a tomato.”

He gives a little groan and tugs at his collar. “My body doesn’t regulate temperature very well. Never has. Piece of shit thing.” He assesses her and notices her cheeks are perfectly normal.

“You’re kinda delicate, aren’t you? Sumi too. She gets overwhelmed by the elements easily, always has.”

“Apparently, Akira has a type. He calls it ‘fussy’ on me, which seems to be synonymous with ‘bitchy’. Though I doubt he’d think the same of your sister, which is unfair.”

She laughs. “Hey, it takes a brave man to go wedding dress shopping with his best friend’s fiancé. I’m sure Akira can see that.”

“What can he see?” Yoshizawa asks brightly as she comes to the table holding a tray with plates of baked goods on it.

“The sun’s killing his little Goro.”

“Oh no.” Instead of sitting on the side of the booth with Kasumi, she chooses the blissfully empty space right beside Akechi. “Hot?” She asks through bright eyes, oblivious to the way Akechi tenses up against her. Her arm is pressed against his. Her thigh against his thigh. It becomes even hotter, is it fury?

That is Akira’s space.

Akira’s touched her thigh...her arm... Turned her around and slid her underwear down the back of her thighs...plunged inside. But then again, he’s touched Akechi too... Slipped his hands into Akechi’s pants, begged for his cock to slide inside him...

It’s so awkward.

Akechi shifts, flitting a look of discomfort at her that she doesn’t understand.

She slides a chocolate croissant over, eyes wide and hopeful. “One chocolate raspberry croissant for the gentleman?”

He frowns at her for another moment longer before forcing out a small laugh. “...Yes. Akira knows best, as always. Thank you.”

She heaves a huge sigh of relief and her shoulders fall, releasing tension. “Thank god. I couldn’t remember if it was raspberry or strawberry! But I didn’t want to text him and ask when he just told me like twenty times this morning. I promised him I’d remember. Yikes.”

“Sumi,” Kasumi chuckles into her hand.

“All the berries look the same! Red, red, red.” She scoots back into the seat and turns, facing Akechi. “Can I see your hair?”

“Excuse me?”

Her eyes are bright as she wiggles her fingers in the air — a very Akira-looking movement. She nods to his hair. “If you don’t mind of course, but I think it’ll be worth your time if you allow it! Promise I won’t do anything tricky. It’s something you’ll like. I think, anyway.”

Over the table, Kasumi’s smiling at the both of them like something more is happening than he understands.

Bemused, he turns his head. He becomes even more confused when her fingers weave through his hair. They’re so little in comparison to Akira’s, so foreign. He tenses up. “Um?”

“You can eat still! Don’t mind me.”

Carefully, like she knows how sensitive his scalp always is (did Akira expose his secrets even about this?) she begins to weave his hair into a braid. With her tiny baby hands, she pulls the hot blanket of hair off his neck and twists it away, allowing cool fresh air to tickle across his skin.

Relief is immediate and he’s not sure why he didn’t think of doing some variation of this, seeing as he’s supposed to be the genius here. It irritates rather than calms him.

As she works merrily away on his hair, Akechi goes quiet. It’s been a long time. It feels like he’s never had someone other than Akira to care about him like this. It should be nice, shouldn’t it? Almost like having a mother.

He did, though. Others did care about him, once. It was so long ago sometimes he wonders if it’s memory or imagination, but it feels so real thinking of how he used to sit in front of the bathroom mirror each night that he doesn’t care to sort truth from fiction.

His mother would run her gentle hands through his hair to draw it up high, blow drying the honey brown layers. Such a simple act, but she was caring for him, wasn’t she? She could’ve been in the living room, or on the phone, or doing anything else, but she was choosing to be with him, choosing to take his wet hair in her fingers and spell it warm and dry. He could’ve done it himself, and she knew that, but she wanted to do it for him anyway.

He’d watch her reflection in the mirror. Watch her love him. Even now, he can smell that small bathroom — citrus cleaner? — the particular scent of her lightly floral perfume. The humidity of the shower settles thick over his skin and it’s like he’s there again, safe in the comfort of her love, handling his hair carefully.

No worries over how to care for Akira, how to make sure they both keep on existing. She’s got it. She’s got them.

Akira and you seem to get along well, don’t you? She would say happily. Better than the other boys at school. I told you, didn’t I? There’d be someone out there for you. You make him happy too.

Sometimes Akira would be there too. Sitting on the floor, leaning his top half over Akechi’s lap, watching them with big owlish eyes.

When’s it my turn? He’d ask, rolling about Akechi’s lap so much that Akechi would have to grab him with both arms to hold him in place.

She’d laugh, fingers gentle across Akechi’s scalp. You just had your turn. Your hair is dry. Silly little Akira.

And Akira would laugh and laugh and laugh. Little comedian he was. And Akechi felt like he was holding the world in that bathroom with the three of them together. He really did.

“There.” Yoshizawa folds Akechi’s braid neatly over his shoulder and gives it a small friendly pat. “Better? Your cheeks were getting a little pink. We don’t want you getting heat stroke. I don’t think either of us would ever hear the end of it from Akira.”

Akechi looks over. He isn’t used to being noticed, not like that. People notice his money. That’s easy for them. And he hates that. Akira’s fiancé notices his heat sensitivity.

She’s trying. In a cold uncaring world, filled to the brim with loathsome apathy, she tries. And he hates that too.

Damn it. Damn it, Akira. Akechi is not going to like Yoshizawa. This isn’t going to happen. What more of himself can he give?

She smiles patiently at him, glowing like a real fucking angel. He says nothing and reaches for the croissant on his plate for something to do. Yoshizawa and Kasumi toss each other a look in their secret twin language and then speak amongst just the two of them for the remainder of their time together. They leave him alone.

...The croissant is delicious. Fuck. He’s so mad.

Soon enough, it’s late. And thank god, too. Akechi just wants to go home and empty his brain out of this day. He doesn’t like change. Even if it’s positive, which he can’t say whether or not it is, it’s still change. He refuses to comprehend any inkling of like for Yoshizawa. That is simply not going to happen. Not over some stupid braid. Not over a dumb cheap croissant. Not for anything.

Jazz Jin is his home, his comfort, and he won’t let Yoshizawa take that away from him. He leads them down into the dim cozy lit atmosphere.

“Akira and I found this place together when we were still basically just children,” he says over his shoulder. “I can’t believe he’s performing here now. Life is so funny that way.”

The warm sound of jazz already floats through the dark familiar entryway.

Akira.

When he was a little boy, he wasn’t serious when he sang. Everything he always did was casual, friendly, just like it sometimes still is. He’d drape himself over Akechi’s back and wave his arms with song, music flowing through every ounce of his talented little body. When he did his homework, he sang, when he cleaned, he sang, when he made food, he sang. It never bothered Akechi, it was just Akira. So of course Akira’s song could settle in the walls if he so pleased. It pleased Akechi too. It meant he was thriving.

After Akechi tried to kill himself, something in the air changed and Akira went silent for years. No more song, no more color. It took him a while, but here they are again, right back where they first began. Hard earned recovery.

Celestial interference. Akechi rounds the corner and there he is.

Akira.

It’s like nothing else in the entire world exists. Maybe it never has. Maybe that’s why Akechi is the way he is in this world: he only lives for one thing.

Akira looks like a god standing on the stage in the back, bathed in the golden spotlight from above. He has his eyes closed as he leans into the microphone, looking so at ease, so in place here, it’s a miracle it took this long for him to not be scouted.

It comes in thick heavy waves, that voice. It cuts deep into Akechi’s being, sending low and terrible vibrations echoing through Akechi’s skin, penetrating deep into his groin. He almost could groan right here and now. Maybe he does.

Akira was right, he’s improved so much since the last time Akechi’s seen him perform. No longer is he self conscious and thoughtful, he’s lost himself in his craft, weaving his music through the unknown channels in the air and sending them home. He’s a master. He’s an artist.

He’s been found. And about time too. Akira is home.

“Hey — Hey. Akechi. You there?”

With great effort, Akechi pulls his concentration away from the centerpiece: the glowing bright beacon of life and energy, and looks down into the dull drab person before him.

Kasumi has her hand on his arm, she must’ve been shaking him. She jerks a thumb back to a table nearby. “Want to sit while we wait?”

Wait? What an insult. Like Akira isn’t performing now. Like now isn’t all the time there is? How could she dismiss it like this? But he nods dumbly, letting his gaze go back up. Here, he’s all mellowed out. He’s in awe. His soul feels at peace, content, wrapped up in the pace Akira sets with his melodic voice.

They sit and Yoshizawa immediately leans in. “So I was thinking about the wedding —” she begins.

Akechi holds up a hand, not bothering to look away. “Let me watch him.” He doesn’t care if he’s rude, doesn’t even think about it.

“O-oh. Okay.”

Time floods over him like a wave, and the hours pass by as if they’re nothing. He doesn’t look at his watch once, forgets time is even a thing.

It’s over too soon.

The final song ends and the spotlight washes away. The rest of the lights in the bar rouse and the atmosphere immediately changes.

The crowd comes to life, applauding enthusiastically for Akira, reception that Akechi knows to be rare in this place. He’s heard marvelous singers get no recognition at all, but not Akira.

Akira blinks awake, running a hand over his face and giving a bright grin and deep bow. He looks so happy... Warm and satiated, golden sweat dotting his brow, an easy grin on his face. He searches the crowd until he finds their table. When his and Akechi’s eyes meet, his face melts; he looks so young suddenly.

He gives one final wave to everyone, scoops up a rose, and then hops off the stage. He waves and grins at the random people who address him from the crowd, but he doesn’t stop. He’s on a mission.

Akechi feels Akira woven into every fiber of his being. He’s here because of him. He’s so proud of him, of what he is now. Akechi loved him as a worm, loved him during chrysalis, and now, loves him even more because of all that, seeing the butterfly in all his delicate and intricate colors as he is, thriving, born into what he was always meant to be. He is so heartbreakingly beautiful — his growth, his journey, his face — and he’s walking right for him.

How lucky Akechi is to know him. He feels unreal, like an angel come to earth to sing, to spread joy by his voice, and Akechi is the one blessed to have him in his arms.

“Hey,” Akira breathes brightly.

Akechi goes to stand — he doesn’t even know why, it isn’t like he’s royaly — when Akira steps around him and leans in to kiss Yoshizawa on the cheek, slipping the red rose into her hand.

It feels like an actual smack across the face.

Yoshizawa makes a sound of pure happiness and wraps her arms around Akira’s neck to pull him in closer. They murmur to each other in low private tones, close and couple-y.

There’s a glint of light.

Akira’s wearing a ring. On his left hand. On his ring finger.

Why? Why is he doing that? He doesn’t have to, not until the wedding. Why is he doing that?

Akechi must pull himself together. He must. They’re in public. Kasumi is watching and she reads him uncomfortably well. It’s physically painful, like tugging out a hand clawed into the intricate delicate viscera around his heart, but he forces himself out of his awe, out of that bath of love. He was so dumb on it. He can’t believe he let himself get so dumb.

Akira sways Yoshizawa back and forth as they chuckle together. “I’m glad,” he says lightly to her, his ring shining in the stupid low lights. “I’m so glad. See? I told you.”

“You did.” Yoshizawa cups her hands delicately around his face, stroking his cheeks. “Your face has been so soft lately. What have you and Akechi been doing together, hm? Face masks?”

Akira laughs and lets his face be pet.

Akechi bites at his lip and looks down at the floor. He hadn’t realized until just right now how cold this room is. A blunt chill grips him by the shoulders and digs in; he’s captive. Though it hurts, it’s a familiar friend and perhaps the only one left. He feels ashamed to have forgotten it.

“Goro.” The sudden hand on his shoulder startles Akechi. “You came.”

He looks down at his nails and inspects them. He thinks he might be able to feel the cold hardness of the ring on his arm. That fucking thing. “...Oh. Yes, well...I said I would.”

“Yeah, but I wasn’t sure if you’d bail on the dress shopping honestly,” Akira laughs.

“That’s right,” Yoshizawa pouts, leaning into Akira’s face by standing on the tips of her toes and putting her hands on her hips. Akira raises an amused eyebrow down at her. “You lied to me! You said Goro likes fashion!”

“He does. He likes critiquing it in magazines...but maybe not so much buying it from shops.”

“But that’s exactly what we were doing!”

“He was very good,” Kasumi says warmly, sipping merrily from a twisty straw. “Turns out he’s an excellent man to come to for an opinion.”

“Oh, that I already knew,” Akira laughs. “Can’t get him to stop normally.”

They all laugh together at Akechi’s expense. He stares at the grain of the wooden table and is suddenly overcome by a strong desire to just go home. He never should’ve come out here. He doesn’t belong out, in the light.

He doesn’t feel the warmth that they all seem to feel, surrounded by friends. And why should he? He’ll never be like them. They all are loose and comfortable with each other. And Akechi is so wrong. He’s never felt so keyed up and congested inside and he wants to claw his face off, starting with the eyes and digging into his neck, tearing himself open, letting himself fall apart on the floor. He’ll let his heart splatter over the ground at Akira’s feet and maybe then, and only then, will he find peace. They can deal with the aftermath this time.

He’s thinking about leaving when Akira says, “I see you guys already got drinks, but how about another round on me? What do you guys want?”

“No, no. Let me,” Kasumi says as she finishes off the last sip of her glass. “You’re all getting surprise drinks though. I’m going to guess based on personality. Sumi, come help me guess, it’ll be fun.”

“Oh, I’ve totally got this,” Yoshizawa says eagerly, following Kasumi away.

“Guys, put it on my tab! I get a really good discount!”

“Yeah, yeah!”

Akira lets out a happy loud sigh as he runs a hand through his sweaty hair. He falls into the seat beside Akechi with an easy puff. He’s glimmering in the club’s dim colorful lighting, breathless in an exhilarated way. “So!” He says, grinning away. “How was it?”

Akechi runs his finger along the edge of the table, unable to lie. “Wonderful. You’re an amazing talent, you really are. You really have improved.”

Akira laughs, tilting his head back into the air. “Thanks, Goro,” he says, voice so warm. “But I meant the dress shopping.”

Akechi swallows hard and closes his eyes in embarrassment. “...Ah. Uh, it was good. It was...it went well.”

“Good, huh?” When he dares to peek, he sees Akira watching him with a crooked knowing smile.

“Fine. It was fine.”

“Hmmmm.”

Akechi shifts uncomfortably. “If you don’t believe me, ask your fiance.”

“She’s too nice. She wouldn’t snitch on you.”

“But I’d snitch on myself?”

Akira smiles. He looks across the room. “She’s looking better. She wasn’t feeling well this morning. She thought she was having her first panic attack. Crazy, huh?”

“About what? Not me going?”

“Oh. No. No, not that,” Akira says it too quickly. He presses his lips together and begins running a finger along the table’s edge for a distraction.

Akechi narrows his eyes. “Why are you getting all...what is it...embarrassed? You’re the one who brought it up.”

“Uhhh,” Akira goes red. “Iiiii dunno. It’s my fault. It’s bad. Private. Between us. Couple things.”

Something bright and squirming flickers to life in his gut and he leans forward. “...You didn’t tell her, did you?” He realizes, in that moment, that’s exactly what he wants. Chaos. A crack in the floor between them, gaping wide.

Akira blinks, looking shocked. “Oh. No.” He turns to look behind himself quickly, scoping Yoshizawa out. “I haven’t — No. Not that. It isn’t about you. I could tell you, if you want, but it’s... It’s uh...” He sinks again, looking disheartened. “Did you really want to know?”

Akechi watches him for a moment longer and then holds his hand up. “All those fucking white dresses bleached into my memory... I never want to know another thing again.”

“Thank you for doing that. Thank you, thank you, thank you, I could kiss the ground at your feet, I owe you so badly for so many things. I’m one step away from your slave.”

“I wouldn’t mind that.”

“Ha! I’m sure you wouldn’t.” Akira reaches out.

Akechi’s breath draws in and freezes in his lungs. It isn’t rational, this stab of want that seizes him like a reflex to Akira’s any move, but it’s all consuming. And seeing Akira reach for him, he wants it so badly. He wants to be the one Akira comes to after a performance, he wants Akira to hold him, to draw him in close, to speak in low tones like he’s special to him. It hurts how badly he wants it. Akechi’s body locks down on him, serving himself up on a silver platter at Akira’s feet like the pathetic worm he is. He’s dying for scraps.

Akira runs his fingers over Akechi’s bangs and down the length of his hair. Akechi is paralyzed. “I like this,” Akira says warmly. “Sumi did it, didn’t she? I’d recognize that handiwork anywhere.”

Akechi swallows hard. “...Yes.”

Akira rolls the braid in between his fingers. “Remember when my mom used to braid your hair? She was so happy to have you. Mine’s a fucking mess to braid. You haven’t done it since. It looks nice.”

“Yes,” Akechi says softly. “I remember.”

Akira keeps touching it thoughtlessly. “You were like their little doll. Our moms, I mean. They were always using you to dress up and do your hair and you’d sit there so patiently and let them. You were so good for them. I was too rowdy,” he laughs softly under his breath. “I think I get it now. Feels so different from Sumi’s. So thin. When Sumi puts her hair up like this, it’s like...twice as thick. So weird, huh?”

His stomach sinks. And the vision is so intense, so consuming: Akira, with his hand out tenderly, running his fingers through Yoshizawa’s red locks. In private. Alone. Down her body. Into it. He wants her. He loves her. He just tolerates Akechi.

Akechi stands up abruptly.

Thin. And flimsy. And grey. And cold. And dead. He might as well be dead.

Akira blinks, his hand still in the air. He drops it to the table. “You okay?”

Akechi stands there awkwardly, palms flat on the table. “Yes. Fine. I was just going to get drinks.”

“Uhh... I mean, you can, but Sumi and Kasumi are already getting some?”

Fuck. He looks toward the bar, where Yoshizawa and Kasumi are already coming back with drinks in hand. He was just using that lie as an excuse to leave.

He reaches his hand up and rips the hair tie out. “The braid is unnecessary, I was just humoring her. It’s freezing in here.”

Akira tilts his head and watches him thoughtfully.

“One extra neon rainbow drink coming right up!” Yoshizawa says, setting an explosion of color in front of Akira.

Akira guffaws as he takes it, swirling the color with a noise of awe in his throat. “This is what I feel like to you?”

“Yep! Because you’re every good color all in one.”

He slaps a hand over his heart. “Awww.”

“And this one, because he’s so professional and sharp —”

Akechi tunes it all out. There’s commotion at the table. Their table, Akechi supposes. Kasumi and Yoshizawa and Akira all chat amongst each other but Akechi is so disconnected.

Funny. It didn’t take much, did it? For Akechi to flip like a switch. He doesn’t understand it himself. One second, he’s warm and happy and okay, everything’s okay. The next, he’s so cold.

He can only pretend for so long, he supposes. It’s nice to pretend, it’s the only time he actually feels included. He didn’t always have to with Akira, but now, with each step away from Akechi Akira makes, Akechi’s finding more and more lies are in order.

Like all the ‘I’m fine’s. How long can he keep this all up? He’s exhausted. But if he doesn’t lie, no one would even look at him. Not even Akira. Not anymore.

Clawing. Clawing away. Tearing his face off. Tearing his body apart. Maybe they can find something salvageable in the carnage, maybe for them, but it’s too late for him. It’s just too late.

“Oh!” Yoshizawa says brightly, patting her hands to the table. “Goro, tell him! Tell him what you said to me about the dress! No other spoilers though!”

Akechi looks up. Everyone’s eyes are on him. Akira’s are expectant but he’s beginning to frown a bit as he looks over Akechi’s face, Yoshizawa’s eyes are just wide and bright, Kasumi’s are thoughtful.

Akechi looks back into all of their faces and tries to take a deep breath.

The deep breath trick isn’t working. Five things. Five senses. Grounding techniques.

No.

He doesn’t want to be here, playing this game.

He hates the dress, honestly.

He hates Yoshizawa.

He hates sharing.

He doesn’t like how much Akira likes her.

He doesn’t like how easy it is for him to just...exist and nothing else. And no one else notices.

Akira looked right through him when the crowd parted and he came on through. He went to Yoshizawa like he was tethered to her, like she was the only one in the room. He didn’t even notice Akechi.

But to Akechi, Akira was the whole world. And Akechi’s nothing. He can’t stand always being nothing.

Akechi just wants to go home. He wants to lie down on the floor and stare blankly at the wall and let this dark hole consume him until nothing’s left. He wants to go home, where he’s young again, where ten year old Akira waits for him, and they can curl beneath the blankets together, and Akechi can hold his hand tightly and not feel guilty about forcing himself where he doesn’t belong, and never let go. Pretend this is all just the worst nightmare. Start over. Hold that Akira close.

What would it take for you to love me? Please tell me. I’ll be whatever you want. He could ask that Akira and then he can correct himself, he can correct who he is to be what he needs to be. Dig a knife through it, recarve it better. He was so young then, and he didn’t know he had to ask, but god, he wishes so badly that he had. Be yourself, they say, right before they discard you. He doesn’t want to be himself, he just wants to be loved.

If he goes home now, whatever shaky truce he and Akira built today in order to forget his moment of selfishness in the study will be destroyed. And this entire day would be for nothing.

If he goes home now, will Akira look at him ever again? Or will he remember that Akechi took him when he already belonged to someone else? Will he remember how much he doesn’t actually want him?

He tries to soften his expression because they’re all watching. Everyone is watching. And he knows his face is all wrong. It’s lie or be abandoned. And he feels so alone already.

“It was the dress that brought her the most joy,” he says softly, looking down at his hands on the table. He curls them around the base of his glass for something to do. “She looked like a princess...”

While Akira’s was filled with color, the drink Yoshizawa placed in front of Akechi is stone grey.

Akira drives them back. Yoshizawa and Kasumi let Akechi take the passenger’s seat like it’s a kindness but then they sit right behind his head, chattering away about absolutely fucking nothing. Akira chimes in occasionally, but he’s focused on the road. Akechi is quiet. He stares into the dark and thinks of running his fingers through it like water in a black pond. Its warmth would welcome him in, slip up his wrist and give a gentle tug, and in he’d fall. And home he’d finally be.

No guilt. No shame. No heartache. Everyone would be free.

They arrive back soon enough and Akechi gets out, watches Akira help a tipsy and giggly Yoshizawa out the back as she hangs off him like a cuddly baby monkey. She nuzzles into Akira’s collar, humming contentedly. Her hands are all over him, sliding over his abdomen, feeling him up. Hers.

She’s so free to do as she pleases. She doesn’t have to hide her love, doesn’t have to strangle her affection down. Akira doesn’t scold her or look at her with horror. He accepts it. Responds gently to it. Akechi has never hated her more than in this moment.

There’s bile in his throat. There’s fire razing up the palm of his empty cold hands and it cuts through his mind, slices a new wound wide over a battlefield of others, already worn and haggard.

Without another word, he crosses the lawn and pushes his way through the bushes.

“Oh. Goro, wait. Goro. Hey. Listen. Dammit, you’re always — Kasumi, could you —? I wanted to say goodnight to Goro.”

“Akiiiiraaaaaaaa,” Yoshizawa groans. “You always run off with him... What about meeeee? Come to bed with me. Come on. Want you...”

Akira hesitates, looking back to her. The front door opens automatically for Akechi and he’s never been more grateful for Arsène’s interference.

Kasumi snorts. “He’s sure booking it. I guess he’s had enough of us.”

“Oh. No. He’s just —”

“Don’t worry, I’ve got her. I was going to spend the night anyway. Go say goodnight.”

“Cool, thanks! Be right back!”

Akechi steps through the door and slams it tightly shut. Fuck him.

“Goro! Hey! Goro, wait a minute,” he hears through the wood, but he keeps moving through his house, going to the kitchen and grabbing a glass of water. He’s boiling suddenly. Sweating. But his heart feels cold. Chills. He doesn’t know. He’s all over the place. It’s so stupid. He’s an adult, isn’t he? Why are his feelings always so childish?

“Good evening, Master. How was your day?”

Akechi pulls the glass away as he pinches the skin between his eyes. “Shut up,” he whispers, voice shaking. “Just shut up.”

There’s a pause between them. The more seconds that pass, the more Akechi can feel tension chain the air. “...Sir. You are very unwell. We need to stabilize you. Please allow me to take you to the clinic.”

Akechi growls. He tosses the glass into the sink unkindly and there’s a loud shatter.

Arsène doesn’t flinch, he looks calmly into the sink. “Perhaps I can contact Dr. Maruki, sir? See if we can get an emergency appointment for you?” When Akechi hesitates, Arsène says, “I think it’s necessary in this case.”

“Goro, what the hell,” Akira grumbles from the entryway. “Why’d you run off? And what was that noise?”

Akechi tsks. “Yes. Do it,” he says to Arsène, just to get rid of him. “Go now.”

“It will be done,” he says before he bows out.

Silence settles over them. “What was that about?”

“Nothing, just appointment shit.”

“Oh.” Akira stares at Akechi intently. “...Well? What was the hurry? Couldn’t even say goodbye? I wanted to talk to you about today. I thought it went well... Did something happen?”

The thing is, nothing did. Dress shopping was fine, Yoshizawa and her sister were pleasant, Akira had a wonderful performance, Akechi got to see, then Akira drove them home. It was fine.

But Jazz Jinn had always been their place. It was the closest thing to an actual childhood home he’s ever had. It was his safe base in a world of hostility. His and Akira’s. That was theirs. And Yoshizawa was so comfortable there, she didn’t even watch Akira sing. There was no awe, she was used to it. Jazz Jinn is her and Akira’s home now, the place Akira brings her to when he wants someone to be with him. Akechi was the guest. He was the stranger. He was unaware it was even happening as it did.

Where is home for Akechi and Akira then? If it isn’t there any longer? Where is left for them?

The thing is that he isn’t an idiot. So he knows the answer to that question. He can’t face it.

Akira didn’t do anything, but Akechi finds he is so mad at him. He’s so mad at everything and he can’t decode it, can’t unravel it all into words that’ll help or diffuse the situation, it’s just one large writhing knot inside his stomach, pulsing in his head. He needs to go puke it out. He needs to puke himself down the drain. Flush it away. Never let it come back up. Turn the grinder on.

“Leave me alone,” Akechi mutters, walking out without a backward glance. “I’m not in the mood for you.” He doesn’t know who that imposter is in his kitchen, but it isn’t his Akira. Akira loved him. Akechi was first for that Akira. Where is the boy he loved? Akechi is wracked with grief.

“Goro,” Akira groans, exasperated as he follows him. “Come on. What’s this about now?”

“You just wanted to say goodnight, no? Goodnight. Now go.” Akechi blazes into his room and makes a beeline for his pajamas set out neatly over the end of his bed. He snatches them up and turns to make his way to the bathroom.

Alone. He’s alone. All alone.

Akira tosses an arm out to press against the door frame, barring Akechi from passing.

Akechi raises his eyebrows indignantly, but Akira holds firm.

“Nuh-uh. Talk to me. You never talk and then you get all pissed no one understands you. Here is me trying to understand you. Just tell me what’s wrong already so we don’t have to do this whole game and dance every single fucking day like we always do. I’m tired. I just want to go to bed. But I’m not going to leave until you tell me what’s going on in that damn head of yours, so you’re holding me up! We’re adults! Let’s try it out. Communicating. Go.”

Akechi glares with as much venom as he can muster, which isn’t much because he’s exhausted too. “Fuck. You.”

Akira’s mouth drops open in shock. “Fuck me? Why? Why are you so mad? What did I do?”

“You’re harassing me, for one! And I’m just...I don’t know! I’m just mad. I’m tired. It’s been a long day doing what you wanted me to do. I have no room to talk like you want to. That’s enough trying to please you all day long and now, I need to tend to me. Just me. Okay? It can’t always be all about you, no matter how much you’re used to it. So go the fuck home already. Before I do something terrible.”

“Terrible? What the hell are you talking about? Like, punch me?”

“I’m warning you! I’m fucking warning you.” He shoves against Akira’s arm and pushes his way through. “Go away. You keep pestering me and pestering me and you think it’s a kindness, but it’s not! You selfish fucking asshole. You won’t let me breathe. I can’t fucking breathe. You’re always here, but you’re not! You’re suffocating me!”

“What does that mean? I’m here, but I’m not? What?”

“Go. GO! Before...”

“Before what? Goro, if you’re breaking down, I don’t want to leave you. You can rely on me, you always can. I’ll never abandon you. Stop trying to make me.”

At those words, Akechi loses all steam. They’re pretty, but they’re false, just like every soft thing that’s ever been in his life. And he wants them so badly, wants to feel something soft and gentle against his skin instead of the violence that always burns against him instead. He sinks to the decorative bench in the hall, trembling.

“I knew it...” Akira mutters, sitting beside him closely. He rubs at Akechi’s arms gently but firmly, drawing in friction.

It hurts though, it doesn’t feel good at all. His skin is sensitive and feverish, aching like a bruise, and Akira’s running his hands over the bruises, pressing in, breaking through skin. “Stop,” Akechi whimpers, lifting a hand to ward him off, but he’s too weak and deflated to do it.

Akira just won’t. No matter how Akechi says it, no matter how he pleads, Akira won’t leave. Why is he gone in all the ways he needs him, and here in all the ways he doesn’t? It hurts so badly. And the pain won’t stop. He’s so tired of there never being any escape. Drowning, drowning, drowning. Thirty years of it with no reprieve.

Akechi puts his head in his hands, heart fluttering spastically in his chest, no control, no balance, only chaos and storms and backwards energy. So much darkness flooding into him, wrapping around his throat and choking out all the air.

“You’re alright,” Akira murmurs. Lying. Lying away. “I’m here. I’m right here. You’re not alone.”

Akechi whispers into his hands. “Please just leave me alone...”

“You’re trying to run away, but I’m not going to let you.”

Akechi looks up at him wearily, so much weight on his shoulders, his head, his heart. “...For your own good, let me.”

“Why do you keep saying those things? What happened? You seemed okay when I first saw you tonight, I thought it all went well... You let her do your hair and I know how much you hate when people touch you, I don’t understand what went wrong. Did Sumi or Kasumi say something...?”

Akechi shakes his head slowly, miserable. Yoshizawa’s waiting for Akira, in bed, minutes away from a fuck. Akira probably wants to hurry this along, whatever this is — breakdown, panic attack, whatever — it’s an inconvenience. Akechi’s being a nuisance. Akira knows if he says all the right words, it’ll speed up the process, and Akechi will be okay again. Whatever that will mean. Surviving and nothing else. And then Akira can go home, where he wants to be, and thrive.

This is not his home. Not anymore. But Akira says all the right things, so Akechi can’t even yell about it. Because there is no ‘it’. Akira’s fucking perfect. And Akechi hates him so much for it.

He sniffs, rubbing roughly at his face. When he pulls his hand away, there are tears. His eyes catch Akira’s and they stare at each other.

Soft footsteps come down the hall and neither of them look up until Arsène’s shadow falls over them.

“Dr. Maruki is currently on hold. He’s agreed to speak to you tonight, unless you’d rather take a slot tomorrow. He has one in the afternoon.”

Akechi closes his eyes, feeling the heat from Akira’s hand on his arm. Akira’s his tether to this world, the ache against his skin that keeps bringing him back.

“Tomorrow,” Akechi says.

Arsène bows and walks out.

“You sure you don’t want to take the call now?” Akira says hesitantly. “He might be better to talk to about...whatever it is...”

Alone. “You can go. I know you’re tired.”

Akira sighs. “I know you. If I leave you now, it’s just going to fester. What can I do to make this easier on you? I thought maybe involving you would make you feel a part of it, but I can see that’s not how it’s going to work out. Goro, how can I help you?”

“...I just want this to stop.”

“The wedding?”

“All of it,” Akechi closes his eyes. “All of it...”

“What does that mean...?”

Akechi has no response. None Akira wants to hear.

With a big sigh, Akira snuggles up closer to him and leans the weight of his head against Akechi’s. “I know this has been really hard on you lately. I knew it would be. Sometimes I think what we have isn’t all that healthy.”

Akechi looks up, betrayal and fear stabbing through him.

“Hey. No. Don’t look like that. I’ve just been thinking about you and...me and why we are the way we are with each other. Growing up together like we did...maybe in the middle of all that trauma, we healed together in an odd sort of way. Sometimes I feel like we were shattered into a million pieces and all our pieces got mixed up, and then, when we stitched ourselves back together, we forgot we were two different people. We got sewn back into one. I don’t know what to do without you. I don’t know if it’s supposed to be like that...”

Akechi’s breath shudders. That’s exactly how he feels, but Akira makes it sound like such a travesty, where Akechi feels so supported by it. “...I’d change everything about myself if I could. I’d tear out all the parts that make me me and be whatever you’d want... I’d do it in a second.”

Silence. “...Goro. Don’t say that. That’s not what I meant at all. ...I’m sorry about today, it’s my fault. I just wanted you and Sumi to get along better...it was selfish. I just feel like if you guys knew each other, if you gave her a single chance, you’d actually truthfully really like her. And we could all just be one big happy family, you know? I’d love that. But I get it. I get why you don’t want to get close to her.”

“You do? Tell me.”

Akira is quiet. He reaches up to brush his hair gently and Akechi can’t help but close his eyes at his touch, a wave of serenity and warmth washing over him. “You know I’ll still love you, right?” Akira whispers. “Even after I marry Sumi. Even when I start a family with her. You’re still going to be a part of that family, because you’re still going to be mine. I will always make time for you. Even if we made a very big mistake recently...I’m not going to abandon you. You know that, don’t you? I love you just the same as always. Nothing is going to change that.”

Pretty words, nothing more. Pretty words, but he mustn’t let them take root. For his own survival, he must hide from them.

“You’re a part of me,” Akira says. “Like the left side of my body or something... I’m not leaving you behind. I don’t even think that’s possible.”

“You can’t promise that...” Akechi whispers quietly. He takes his hand back, slipping it out of Akira’s and he turns away, staring down the dark hall.

“Of course I can, Goro,” Akira protests, leaning in deeper so he’s basically laying on top of Akechi. “You’re letting your emotions cloud your judgement. I’m literally right next door. How much closer do I have to be to convince you? Your room? Your bed? On top of you?”

Now there’s a thought.

Akira wraps his arms around Akechi tightly and crosses his legs over his lap. He’s bound tightly over him, face pressed to the side of Akechi’s head.

“God, Akira...” His body is so hot. ...He smells so good. Akechi’s now miserable and horny and it doesn’t make anything easier.

“Hm? How about this? Remember that one summer we got drunk after graduation and we ran through some sprinklers we saw? We planned to go back home but we got caught up watching the stars and when we woke up, we were in the middle of some random golf course with a bunch of really pissed off old guys... We could do that this Friday,” Akira laughs, nudging Akechi’s cheek with his nose.

Akechi doesn’t smile. He doesn’t change his expression at all. “I want to be alone,” he says again, voice dull and monotonous.

Akira heaves a huge disappointed sigh, his breath tickling Akechi’s skin. He pushes his face into Akechi’s hair and moans piteously, his hot breath spreading through each strand. He’s a part of him. “You’re so fucking difficult. You drive me so fucking insane when you’re being like this,” he mumbles into his scalp. “I never know what to do.”

“Fuck off then.”

“Is that what you really want?”

“Yes.” No.

Akira sighs, his face shifting against Akechi’s neck. He presses a soft kiss there and finally pulls back. “Okay, Goro... You going to be okay tonight?”

“What does it matter? Just go home already.”

“Goro, I —”

“Go home. I don’t want to talk to you right now. I don’t want you wrapping yourself around me like a boa constrictor, it’s so suffocating. You know I don’t like being touched.”

“When we were kids —”

“We’re not anymore!” Akechi says sharply. “We’re fucking adults and everything’s changed! You’re not him anymore. Sometimes I think I don’t even know who you are. And I — I’m not your Goro anymore either. I’ve changed too. I just want to be alone. I just need space to breathe, and you just hold tighter. Why can’t you ever listen to me?! I feel like I’m going insane.”

Hurt cuts through Akira’s face and they stare at each other for a moment. “Goro...” He says softly.

“Just go.”

Akira deflates, opens his mouth to speak, when his phone rings in his pocket.

“Sumi,” he murmurs, slipping it out of his pocket and answering it. “Hey,” he says softly, relief in his voice, like he’s home again. “Yeah. Yeah, everything’s alright, we’re just chatting. Oh. Am I coming home now?” He looks up to Akechi, eyes searching and serious. He gazes into Akechi and mouths, do you want me?

If Akechi asked that back, what then...?

He wants him forever. Not for a few more seconds, a spare several minutes. He wants forever, but cannot ask that. What’s the point in asking for anything at all?

Time lags between them for too long. Sumi starts in again. “Akira?” Her squeaky little voice is muffled over the phone. “Still there?”

“Yeah,” he says, turning back. “Yeah, I’m coming home now. Mmkay. Love you too. See you in a second.”

A big sigh. There’s one last warm touch on Akechi’s neck before it slides away and goes cold. “...Alright, Goro. I’ll give you some space. Love you.”

Akechi doesn’t respond.

Footsteps leave down the hall. “I’ll check on you in the morning.”

“Why bother? I’d rather you not.”

Another sigh. “This is what I mean, Goro,” Akira whispers from the doorway. “I’m trying, but you’re pushing me away. It’s like trying to get through a concrete wall. I don’t want this. I want you to be there, I want to see you and talk to you, but you sabotage every single moment between us. There’s nothing I can do until you change your mind. I’ll be waiting until you do.”

Akechi watches him leave. Watches his lithe perfect form. Firm sure footsteps — a person who knows just who he is, just who he wants. What must that be like? To have such clarity. To have such purpose.

He’s going to Yoshizawa now. Why couldn’t Akechi just admit it? Admit that he needs him? In a few minutes from now, Akira and Yoshizawa will be cuddled in bed together, warm and held and cared for. And Akechi — Akechi will be here still, so cold he can’t feel his toes. How bad of a person must he have been all his life to get this result? How much did he fail?

This much.

Maybe Akechi gets it now: why people are so desperate to hook up with just anyone. Please, just marry me, even though they don’t match at all, even though they don’t even like each other. He always despised those kinds of people. Weak willed. Pathetic. But now, watching Akira’s familiar back disappear down the hallway, he understands. They were sick with loneliness and grief, just like him. Having someone has got to be better than being like this.

He has nobody.

“Wait,” he whispers, pathetic.

He thinks Akira won’t hear it, half hopes he won’t, but Akira’s footsteps slow. He turns, looking back with dark aching eyes. He leans against the wall with a sigh. “...What do you need? Tell me.”

You. But he can’t say that. He just stares, lost, ahead.

Two lost boys, stitched together. His other half doesn’t want to be attached anymore and is tearing himself away. Akechi won’t survive, only half a body. Half a heart. He wishes the death could be quick, but it isn’t, he watches it happen in real time. Asked to help him along. Bachelor party this, wedding day that. Kill yourself, slowly, so I can have a life. Destroy yourself wholly, for me.

And Akechi will. Because that’s how much he loves Akira. He’ll sink into that sticky suffocating darkness if that’s where Akira wants him. He’ll breathe it in until it fills his lungs and he has no air left, until he chokes to death and he’s gone. He’s nothing.

Akechi never knew a person could be this miserable and still be breathing. He should die, but, for some odd reason, he doesn’t.

His voice comes out in a breathless puff of air. “Stay with me.” Stay at the edge of the tar pit, watching, until Akechi is fully consumed. Stay, until he’s gone. Stay, holding his hand, until his last breath. It won’t be forever, it’ll hardly be any time at all.

“Goro,” Akira says lowly, wiping a hand over his face and through his hair. “You should’ve said when I was on the phone. I just told Sumi I was going back...I always do this to her, it isn’t fair to her... It’s nearly two in the morning. I had two shifts today and I’m exhausted and I’m not dealing with a full deck. I can come over after work tomorrow and we can talk until night. Tomorrow will be yours, okay? All yours. Can you hold off until then?”

Akechi knew not to ask for scraps. Like an idiot, he did anyway. He nods tightly, not looking Akira in the face.

Akira watches him, concern on his brow. “...I’ll get Arsène for you, okay...? It’ll be alright. You’re exhausted too, it’s been a long day for you, get some rest. Dream something nice, alright?”

His footsteps echo as he leaves. Each step physically pains Akechi.

Starbound. Starbound, starbound, starbound.

“Wait!” His voice breaks. It just bursts out of him. He didn’t mean it. He’s feeling darty, like a rabbit being chased by a wolf. The stars are so loud overhead, glimmering down at him like crescendoing static.

“Hm?”

Akira’s so calm and the hallway is so quiet, but Akechi is about to burst.

STARBOUND. STARBOUND. STARBOUNDSTARBOUND.

“I...” He stands shakily. Stares blankly at the wall in front of him as he wrings out his hands over and over. His lips part. He just knows he can’t stand the thought of being alone. He can’t.

DON’T LEAVE ME!! Back then, Akira was always the scared one. He’d cling to Akechi’s shirt and hide his face in his collar, his warm breath fluttering with desperation against Akechi’s skin. He was scared of everything. Bats. Spiders. Starvation. Being abandoned. Akechi would hold him close. He took care of it all.

They had to steal at marketplaces for a while. Akechi realized that’s what they needed in order to survive, so they did it. Akira did whatever Akechi said to do, with his eyes wide and attentive. He’d salute and obey. Treat it like a game. Yes, sir! But it wasn’t. He learned how to steal so well no one ever even saw them. He probably would’ve followed Akechi off a cliff if Akechi told him to. Akechi was nearly a year older, like that meant something. But that extra year let him pretend to be stronger than he really was, for Akira’s sake. The problem was...he was never actually that strong at all. It took a while, but it’s all caught up to him now.

His mother is dead, and the house is dark, and it’s so quiet. He thinks this is the end, he’s alone, he’s been abandoned, but he hears a soft sniffling sob from the dark closet. He opens the closet door and, in the darkness, there’s one last gift the gods gave to Akechi in mercy. He realizes it’s the last life raft left and he clings to it, so grateful. So thankful.

It’s deflating.

As time passes, Akira gets taller, braver, more mature. Akechi stays the same.

Everyone’s leaving. Everyone’s gone. And he doesn’t know how to get anyone to stay.

Akira’s the last, and he’s falling through Akechi’s fingers like fine sand.

Akira’s watching him with both pity and weariness. “...Goro. You’re the one who kept telling me to go. If you have nothing to say...”

Anything. He needs to come up with anything. Akira can’t leave. Akechi can’t be alone. If he is, then the house is empty, and so is the closet.

The astral observatory is at his back, a high tower and a far drop. A star on the floor, painted red. He was born to end there. He made it and his own creation shall swallow him whole.

No. There has to be some way. Some other way!

...And the knives in the kitchen have been sharpened and prepared. He knows the exact angle he’d choose, which hand to start with. He knows the bathtub he’d lay in. His skin is so easily breakable. His blood is so close to the surface. The toaster he could drop into filled water. The note he’d leave on his silk pillow.

Akira, I love you. I’m sorry. You’re better off this way.

Akira can’t leave, because he’s the only thing standing in the way of Akechi and the stars.

There has to be some benign way, a way without cost, to convince Akira to stay with him. But if there is, he cannot think of it. His genius fails him yet again. All he has is the dark tar in his heart. The rabid need in his hands. And the dead hole in the center of his gut, yawning wide, needing a sacrifice. And who to choose...?

The stars wait anxiously for his choice, both above and below, ready to gnash their teeth on the evaporated bits. And he’s terrified.

Hurry.

He blurts out, “...I-I have something I want to show you! Something I made. In my room. Really quick,” Akechi whispers sharply, stumbling forward blindly. “It’ll be really quick, I promise. Yoshizawa won’t mind, she won’t even notice! ...It’s important, Akira. It’s really important.”

Akira sighs and rubs at his temple, watching Akechi through resigned tired eyes. “...Okay. Lead the way.”

He follows Akechi deeper in.

They step down the long stone staircase in a single line, but Akechi can feel behind his back just how wide Akira’s eyes are.

“Holy shit,” Akira guffaws. “I mean... All this time, Goro! All this time, you kept this hidden from me! My mind is just — I can’t believe — The secret button in the bookcase and everything... Is this a —”

“— Sex dungeon?”

Akira laughs in surprise. “Uhhh... Yes? Is it? It’s that or where you keep the bodies.”

“And what would you do if there were bodies?”

“Find a better place to help you bury them than beneath your house probably.” He pauses. “There are no bodies, right?”

As they enter the entryway, Akechi laughs lowly beneath his breath and gestures toward the chair across the room. He wipes the remnants of his tears from his face, but they already feel like an old memory. In here, he’s calm. In here, he’s the one in control.

Akira tilts his head back, mouth dropping in awe as he takes in the tall fluttering red curtains that frame the start of the ride. “What is this place? Oh my god, it looks like a dark Disney ride. Is that why you were obsessed with it for a while? I was wondering!”

“God. I wasn’t obsessed with Disney.”

“You were. Why else would I get you those limited edition Mickey ears?”

“Sit.” Akechi pats the back of the chair and leans forward on the edge, watching Akira closely as he whirls around the room. “I’ll explain everything once you do.”

“A pond! Are there fish in here?” Akira sits and, just like before, the wrist and ankle cuffs flash into place with a loud snick. “Whoa.”

“No fish.” Akechi assesses the binds, making sure they’re not too tight.

“Oh...” Akira murmurs, fingers flexing as his eyes go dazed. His eyelashes flutter. In this place, the chains on his mind release. Everything he’s been forced to forget, he begins to remember.

As it works its magic, Akechi circles Akira, giving him a careful bodily inspection. The binds are snug enough that Akechi’s finger won’t fit in between but they don’t dig into Akira’s skin. A perfect fit. He’s happy with that. They clamp right over the ankle chain though, which is upsetting.

“Oh...” A tremor begins to build in Akira’s voice. He whispers thickly. “...I remember everything.”

Akechi walks to a small red table at the front of the viewing hall and grabs a black collar with a bright pink heart in the center.

“This isn’t an accident.”

“No. Well, the first time was. Sort of. Though I guess I can’t claim it was fully an accident, since, I mean...” He laughs and holds out both of his arms at the place. “I made all of this in the first place. Didn’t think I’d ever use it. But then, in you walked.”

Akira gasps in shock. “You fucked me.”

“I didn’t. Not that night. You came onto me at the engagement party. I tried to convince you to stop but you just wouldn’t listen and it’s difficult for me to resist you. You know that. Hold still for a second.”

Akira’s neck is long and beautiful. Akechi undoes the collar and places it gently over his fine porcelain skin until it hugs his skin tightly. He secures it around his Adam’s apple as it bobs. The bright pink heart glows right over it.

Akira is still in too much shock to put up much of a fight. It clicks into place as Akira just stares up at Akechi, eyes blank and stunned, like Akechi has been made up of pure searing sunlight all this time, melting away like a candlestick.

“Wh-what?” Akira whispers, jerking out of his face and trying to look down at his neck. “What is that? What did you just do?”

“Just a little toy. Don’t worry about it.”

“Don’t worry about it? Goro... Goro! That-that red room... You hypnotized me! How the FUCK did you do that?! I didn’t even know you could. And then Arsène...! Oh my god — Arsène! You had him fuck me. He fucked me right on your bed. I sleep on that bed! Oh my fuck, that’s what all that cum was!! It was ours!! I thought — I thought — What the fuck does he have a cock for?!”

“Sounds like you’re worrying about it. I told you not to. You never listen.”

Akira’s voice is high and hysterical. “I remember everything. Everything! What did you do to me? My stomach. It was so full...it was...I looked like I was pregnant... But then I couldn’t move. I couldn’t move at all and you...you laid beside me and...you fingered me. And then I just woke up the next morning and the whole night was gone... Oh god, this can’t be happening. Oh, my god. This has to be some sort of nightmare. Oh...my god.” He gasps again, another sudden realization striking him through. “Sumi’s dad’s study. That terrible lust that came over me, that wasn’t actually me at all, was it?! I-It was you! It wasn’t drugs at all.” He begins to hyperventilate. “Y-you made me feel that! You made me kiss you. You let me apologize to you about it and you didn’t say a word!”

“It was a very good apology.”

“Because it was sincere. Because I thought it was all my fault! You let me think I was drugged. Did you? No. No, it must’ve been the hypnosis from that red room... The command. When you want me to feel it, I do. I did! It seemed so out of nowhere, wanting you like that so suddenly. It didn’t make any sense! But...” He takes a deep breath, eyes racing across the floor as he thinks fast. “...Now it does. You did it. You did it to me. It wasn’t me at all. You wanted me to want you...and it worked!”

Akechi watches him, leaning casually against the wall with his elbow, standing before the thick red velvet curtains.

He’s beginning to pant, face bleach white. “How? Why?”

“Why do you think...?” Akechi breathes into Akira’s ears as he walks back around him, tightening the back strap around his neck collar and watching Akira jolt. The back of his head hits the headrest.

“Oh no,” Akira whispers as he stares into the velvet curtained doors right before him. “Oh no.” He’s trembling. “Holy shit. Goro.”

“I’m not going to hurt you. This isn’t about that. It will never be about that.”

“I remember,” Akira growls, jerking his arm as hard as he can against the wrist bind and he grunts in pain as he’s met with nothing but resistance. “Goro, what the fuck?! What the absolute FUCK. What are you doing?! I thought you were going to therapy! This is insane!!”

“They do always say madness runs parallel to genius... And Maruki doesn’t know. Could you imagine if he did?” He laughs softly. “Though who knows? Maybe he’d be into it. He does seem rather fond of you. Akira, the star of everyone’s show.”

“What?! Goro, what the fuck?! Oh, god, this can’t be real. This cannot be real. Oh, fuck. I’m dreaming! This is a horrible fucking nightmare. You wouldn’t... You would never.” He gasps, flustered. “I can’t believe, this whole past week, you just...you let me think it was my fault. You made me — feel so much guilt — The cheating. I was disgusted by myself. I thought it was me. I thought I was bad. I couldn’t sleep for days. I barely got out of bed over the holidays, I had to tell Sumi I had the fucking flu.” Akira draws in a sharp jerky breath. He sounds like he’s one step away from a panic attack. Akechi’s surprised. He thought he’d be there already. “How could you do this to us...? You know I love Sumi, you know I love her...”

“Yes,” Akechi whispers quietly.

“Why then?! You’re forcing me to want you. This isn’t a game! What about Sumi?! You’re not thinking, Goro! This has consequences! If she finds out, it’s going to kill her! You have to stop this. If you keep doing this, the engagement might be ruined! It’s like you’re trying to split us apart! Why would you —” His breath catches and he stops, the only sound in the room is his ragged breathing. “...Oh. Oh, Goro. No...”

“I know you love her,” Akechi repeats quietly. “There’s not much left to lose in that case...is there?”

Akira hangs his head and lets out a soft whimpering sob. “Oh, Goro...but I love you too...!”

“No, you don’t.” Akechi turns and walks behind Akira, toward the viewing hall.

He grabs a sleek long receiver and presses the button.

Akira gasps gutturally for one sharp moment before the sound cuts off in his throat. His whole body tenses and tightens as his eyes fly wide. There are several long moments of silence between them in which Akira seems unable to move from his rigid tight posture over the chair, his hands balled into fists. His toes curled in. His back completely flexed. His expression blown open. He seems unable to process anything.

Then, Akira is released, and he slinks forward, still. Eyes hidden, he says, delicately, “...This. This is a shock collar.”

Akechi brings the receiver out with him and gives it a little showy twirl in his hand for Akira to see. “Remember it? You saw it the other day.”

Akira’s breath shudders out of him in rocky waves. “...To zap me for when I’m being annoying,” he says quietly. “...Goro.”

“Not quite. I’m not that cruel. This isn’t about hurting you, Akira, I already told you that. Sure, you’ve hurt me more than I feel like I can bear, but...this isn’t about vengeance. Not on you. I’m supposed to take care of you, and I will. I mean, did it hurt, just now? Or were you just surprised?”

Akira’s eyes are wired and overwhelmed. He might not even know himself. “How could you...?” He whispers. “How could you.”

Akechi continues on. “I thought we could use it as some sort of teaching device. You know Pavlov’s dogs?”

“...What?” Akira whispers weakly. He seems to have lost his voice.

“Akira, you remember from last time. This place is a bit like a game. Each room was designed to break you down, to make you my sexual complement. This is part of it. Every time you say something I don’t agree with, well... I’ll shock you. Shock the idea right out of you. I can teach your mind to hate that thought.” He looks down at the button in his hand. “Though I’m not quite sure how well it’ll really work seeing as I didn’t design it to hurt you. I designed it to get you to climax. So maybe it’ll just teach you to feel pleasure when you displease me. Ah, well... As long as you know it’s from me.”

“The fuck...” Akira says wetly. “So...what? You’re just going to keep doing this?! You’re going to keep locking me up down here and torturing me?”

“Is it torture, Akira, if what you’re forced to feel is pleasure rather than pain?”

“Yes!” He cries. “Yes! You really have to ask?! You’re forcing me!! Forcing being the keyword here! Locking me up like a prisoner! Training me, changing me... You know I’m straight!”

“Are you? Truly? Because, in Yoshizawa’s father’s study, I specifically remember you saying that I was the best sex you’ve ever had. You can’t blame everything on me, Akira. I didn’t make you say that. That was all you.”

“Does it fucking matter?! You know what you’re doing is wrong or you wouldn’t hide it all down here behind a fucking secret button in your bookshelf. You wouldn’t have hidden it from me. But you do. You make me forget and act like nothing’s happened between us. Treating me like a fool all day, every day... Goro,” Akira breathes, eyes wide and pleading. “This isn’t you. You’re someone who hates liars, who believes in justice. Having to lie to me always? I-I know you’re feeling like you’re in a desperate place. That’s why you feel like you need to do this. Right? Am I right?”

Akechi just stares at him, expressionless.

“But this is no way to live! Not for either of us. It isn’t good for you. Forcing me to want you...? Goro, that’s...that’s horrible... Doesn’t it feel so lonely?”

Akechi watches as Akira struggles against the binds. He looks good like that, decorated in that slutty collar, made just for him. The bright pink was really a nice touch. Despite everything Akechi knows he should be feeling, all he notices thrumming through his body is lust. Look at him. Akira’s got a collar around his neck. Akechi’s collar. That makes him Akechi’s possession. His toy to zap and teach as he pleases. Akechi looks down at the button and plays with it, watching Akira tense at that. “What else should I do, do you think?” He asks calmly.

“Uh...not this!”

Zap.

Akira throws his head back, his neck baring the collar as if presenting to an audience. “FUC — whhhoooooOOa. Whoa...” Akira jolts forward and hangs there, panting as he stares blankly at the ground. “The...the...the fuck...”

Akechi smiles sharply, noticing the signs. He leans forward and ticks the end of his nail against the bottom of Akira’s chin, drawing his head back up. “Did it feel bad, Akira...?”

Akira’s eyes flash and he slams his gaze into Akechi like a force. “YES.” But he says it too fast. His eyes are just slightly too wide, slightly too engaged. Slightly too excited. Liar.

This pleases Akechi greatly. He spins the controller around in his hand casually and stares at it lovingly. “There aren’t a lot of options for me, Akira. You’re off with Yoshizawa day and night and I...I have to watch you do it. You asked if I’m lonely like this. Yes. I am. But it’s far worse without it and I think it’s worth the cost, honestly, seeing you like this.”

Akira’s breathing so fast, he’s heaving. “But...Kasumi!” He scrambles.

“What about her?”

“She likes you. And you like her, I can tell! You and her, you could —”

Akechi draws back in disgust, actually offended. He jams his thumb down and holds it, watches as Akira’s eyes flutter back in his head and his body goes electric with pleasure, turning rigid in his seat. The sweet little toe curl, the way he slips down in the seat. The soft jittering groan. He’d look better naked, honestly, but he’s dressed nicely from singing at Jazz Jin still, so...Akechi can’t really complain seeing him strung up by the current like this.

Akechi scoffs as he tosses his hand into the air. “Kasumi. Are you serious? Do you know me at all? You think she could fill your place? No matter what fucking gender, I don’t care about her.” He releases the button.

Akira pants in his seat, muscles relaxing all at once. He’s loose and lax, more than ever. “She...she won the Olympics.”

Akechi laughs lowly, without mirth. “When was the last time we gave a single shit about the Olympics? Caring about what? Glory for their country? Their country that would chew them up and spit them out the first chance it got? Gold medal,” he laughs bitterly. “Only a desperate fool would care so much about winning something for someone who cares nothing for them. It’s just pathetic. She’s pathetic. Everyone is.”

Akira’s still panting, sweat on his brow. “H-How do you know it’s safe?”

“The Olympics?”

“The collar. The thing you’re using to electrocute me with?! What if it kills me, Goro? It’s really strong!”

“And you say I’m dramatic.” Akechi rests his arms on the back of the chair as he holds it out closer to Akira’s face so he can inspect it. “I made it, of course, that’s how I know. I tested it out very rigorously. Went through multiple trials with Arsène and then myself as the test subject. How do I put this in a way you’d understand...? Think of it as something similar to a TENS unit, but it’s on the same frequency as your erogenous zones, creating new pathways while it’s at it. That’s why it’s so intense in those spots. It’s not like it’s going to go through your heart. What do you think I am? A monster?”

“You...you put this collar around your neck?” Akira stares at him like he’s insane. “You’ve sat in this chair?”

“Of course I have, Akira, I’m not risking your safety over this. Arsène keeps watch and makes sure I don’t go overboard, which has happened a fair few times. And then we adjust it for you. He’s watching now, I’m sure. He monitors you constantly, makes sure you’re safe. We both get anxious if we don’t know if you’re alright or not. And good news: you’re perfectly healthy. Though he did mention there is some concern over your sex hormones... They’re odd, he said. Does that mean anything to you? Because I haven’t the faintest. Unless that means you’re becoming mine so soon...”

Akira draws in a sharp breath. “That’s...so wrong. And in violation of so many laws.”

He gives a light laugh. “Yeah. Maybe. But I’m yours and you’re mine, right? So I thought it’d be fine if I had him monitor just you. And anyway, I don’t want you worrying about any of that, this isn’t supposed to be a place for worry, okay? It’s supposed to be a place for pleasure. Can you allow yourself?”

The look hasn’t gone away. Akira keeps his eyes on Akechi, staring in complete bafflement, mixed with a tinge of horror and disbelief. Akira looks around helplessly. “Goro, I... But I don’t...bottom.”

“Don’t worry about that, Akira. You bottom now. Or you will.” He pushes off the wall and walks behind Akira, toward the viewing hall. “Just leave it to me.”

“Goro! Where are you going?” Akira cries, trying to twist and turn, but Akechi hits the button and Akira’s cries die down, replaced by soft, soft moans.

He’s feeling nice.

While Akira’s preoccupied, Akechi finds his place at the window and sits, getting comfortable. He leans forward and undoes his hold on the collar’s receiver before pressing the start button for the Bottom Maker. The chair jerks to life.

Akira is drawn into view, looking dazed and breathless. As he realizes he’s moving, his face goes white with fear. It’s the prettiest thing in the world: his arousal pinkens his cheeks, his eyelids, his lips. Violent red over sheet white. Like blood on snow.

“I won’t,” Akira breathes. “I can’t. This isn’t right.”

Akechi sighs, watching him for a moment, before remembering himself. He’s supposed to be teaching right now and that thought was very negative. He zaps his little pet again and Akira gasps, the sound full with what seems to be relief. He jolts in his chair, breasts out, head pressed back.

It looks like it feels so good...

He’s rolled into the first room for preparation still shuddering. Arsène’s misfit hands get to work, eagerly, like they’d been waiting for Akira’s return since he last left them. A beautiful reunion. They’ve since shed their hesitant timid nature and they crowd around Akira at once as he turns his head frantically left and right, looking at all of them rise above. They’re friendly though, caressing his skin, drawing his shirt off and away so they can have more of him, have all of him.

“Stop!” Akira wheezes.

Akechi presses the button again and Akira groans. He throws himself into the hands, whether he realizes what he’s doing or not. His head turns back and forth, cupped into one of Arsène’s gentle palms and then the next. When one tenderly brushes over his face, it tilts his head and opens his mouth for it.

It slides in, massaging his tongue sensually. Akira gurgles and bucks, tension singing through him, but he doesn’t move back.

Akechi draws in a steady breath. So different from the first time...

“N-no!” Akira gasps, popping his sucking little mouth off. A string of his spit hangs between him and the hand as it comes back in to caress his cheek. “G-g-g-oro! Stop them. What is this?!”

Akechi leans back in his seat and calmly assesses the scene. Akira is hard and the hands attract to it like sharks to blood in the water. They tear at the rest of his clothes, all eager to jerk Akira off. With a yelp, Akira is caught. Through his clothes, around them, as long as they can hold his cock and rub their thumbs and hands all over it. Akira chokes out, hips jerking, trying to get away? Trying to feel it more? “Goro!”

“Hmmm...?” Akechi is distracted by the entertainment through the viewing hall’s glass.

No matter how Akira shakes his head, the one that felt the inside of his mouth won’t relent. It tasted him and can’t do without anymore. It keeps touching his mouth and he lets out a guttural snarl as it fingers his lips. “I don’t give a shit who you fuck! But me? I love Sumi.”

Akechi leans forward darkly. “Stop saying that.” He crams his thumb into the button.

“Ah-AHH!!” Akira shoves against the chains, meeting him with the same level of ferocity, teeth bared and eyes glinting, “I love her, Goro! And I’m going to marry her, whether you can accept that or not. This? This isn’t reality! What you’re doing is so incredibly wrong. Just stop this!! Stop it and we can go back to the way things were. Your mother —”

“Don’t bring her into this!!” Akechi screams. He stands and tosses the receiver away like garbage. Snatching a new machine off the table behind him, he takes his time making a few final adjustments to it while Akira yells and moans in the background. When he’s finished, he walks down the hallway and pushes his way through the side door. He meets Akira in the Velvet Room.

The heavy oak doors open and Akira is wheeled in. Akechi stands in the center of the room, glaring.

Like last time, Akira is completely peeled naked. The hands had their way with him. His head is rolled back, his body debauched and pink. The dragon dildo is already attached firmly inside his body and connected to the long tube leading back through the door. His cock is wet with his own cum, legs parted. He doesn’t attempt to close them back up anymore. Apparently they were a little rougher than Akechi thought they’d be without supervision. Like rowdy overeager teenagers.

Akechi’s never seen Akira look so afraid and confused. He almost feels guilty. Almost. But mostly he just feels mad.

Akechi steps forward with deceptive calm, meeting Akira halfway. “Hello again. How was it the second time through? I noticed, when the hands came down, you didn’t resist as much as you did the first time. That’s funny. And very interesting to me. One might conclude that it’s beginning to work on you... But in any case, you pass the first level. Graduated! Congratulations, Akira!” He holds up the device in his hand. “So now, we’re going to advance your training.”

Akira’s weary gaze flickers to it briefly before he looks up into Akechi’s face. There are angry tears building over the rims of his eyes as he stares up with sharp defiant edges that cut.

“Look at you,” Akechi laughs softly, running a finger along the tip of the fleshlight. “Pretending this doesn’t excite you.”

“Why?” Akira whispers, voice breaking.

“I’m open to suggestions if you can think of any. I know you’ve known all this time how I feel about you. I know you pretend you don’t, but you do. It’s just so much more convenient to you if my feelings don’t exist. Then you can go forth in guilt-free bliss with your perfect fiancé, into your perfect future, and string me along guilt free the entire way. Isn’t that right? Always calling on me, asking me to do things for you without a care in the world. I’ll do them. You know I’ll do them. Because you know how much I’m in love with you.”

Akira closes his eyes heavily and shakes his head. “No. I don’t — I didn’t —”

“I fucking knew it,” Akechi whispers, watching him through blank dark eyes. He leans in, breathing his hatred into Akira’s face. “And you ask me how I dare?”

Tears pour down Akira’s cheeks and fall.

Akechi draws up and takes a long deep breath. “Don’t worry. I’m not mad at you. How could I ever stay mad at you...? I just want you to feel good, better than you’ve ever felt. So you can see that I’m worth something too. Maybe even worthy enough for you to accept me as your one true mate. I made things that have never existed before just to pleasure you in ways you’ve never been pleasured before. I can take you places no one else has ever gone before, literally, Akira, in the entire world! And I made them all thinking of your preferences, of what I know about you. Only I can do this. Isn’t that so amazing to think about? Don’t you want to try them?”

“No,” Akira whispers wetly. “I don’t want this.”

Akechi’s mouth twists. “...You will soon enough. I promise. That’s what the machines are for, after all. You’ll see. I may’ve failed in every other aspect, but this is something only I can do.”

Akechi leans down slightly, pausing for a moment to look down at Akira. He really is gorgeous. Even if the sight isn’t willingly given, it’s an undeniable vision. He’s trying not to get hard, but his cock gives a mighty twitch as Akechi’s gaze scours over him. Heat twists between them, thick and real, and Akechi can feel his heart thumping against the soft flesh of his own throat. He parts his lips, tasting the lust in the air. “Your body betrays you,” he whispers, touching a hand to Akira’s thigh. “I see everything.”

Akira reacts again, cockhead twitching and lifting higher. Akechi chuckles, turning his gaze up into Akira’s face, who looks half mortified, half enraged. It’s the rage that gets Akechi. That, he can understand. Like fire, burning up in his eyes, passionate and fierce, something Akira said he’d never feel for Akechi, but Akechi can work with that. Akechi longs for that. To be met halfway, to be understood.

It doesn’t matter if it’s love, if it’s hate. As long as they’re equals.

Akechi slides his hand up Akira’s thigh, earning himself a garbled tortured groan. He catches Akira’s cock between the crease of his thumb and forefinger, wrapping his palm around the base of him.

He’s so hot. Such a welcome heady weight against his own skin. He hums contentedly, drawing a long strip of movement upward. Akira’s fully hard by the time Akechi reaches his tip, responding like magic to Akechi’s will.

Akechi hums in approval as he watches the proud tall point of Akira’s erection. He taps the end of his finger to the tip that’s smothered in his last round of cum. It’s continuing to ooze. More pre-cum. Such a hungry thing. “I thought you said you didn’t want it,” he purrs.

“I don’t.”

“Funny. Your body says you do.”

“Goro. I swear to god... What are you doing?!” Akira breathes in desperation. He tries to lean forward, but he’s all tied up and all it proves to do is get his beautiful cock to bob. Akechi looks down at it and then up. Akira peers into Akechi’s eyes, begging, and Akechi lets him. “You and your morals and your goodness. You’d never do this! I don’t understand. That’s one of the things I love so much about you: your strong sense of justice, your want — no, need — to do what’s right. Like how you tried to get along with Sumi today for me because you knew it’s what I wanted. How you always drag me to the soup kitchens over holidays to take care of those who remind you of us when we were kids. You donate over a half of your income to those in need. You want to do good, Goro. So what the hell is this?!” He screeches, voice pitching high and hysterical. “This isn’t you! This isn’t good! This isn’t —” Akechi runs his palm slowly down Akira’s shaft and Akira stops mid-sentence, mouth dropping wide in a tortured gasp. “Oh!”

“Doesn’t matter,” Akechi murmurs, watching intently between Akira’s beautiful red cock, so hard and responsive, to the way his eyelashes flutter with...relief as he tosses his head back. Sure, he struggles against the binds, but he’s feeling so much pleasure...

He reaches up and presses his other finger into the center heart of the collar and feels as the current blossoms and runs through him at the touch.

“Ahhhh!!” Akira cries out, high and crazed. “Oh! Goro!!” It sounds like he’s begging for more.

Akechi gently takes his finger away. “None of those things mean anything in the end. I did them, but you’re still leaving me.”

“L-leaving you?” Akira pants, tossing his head forward, looking down at what Akechi’s doing to his cock. Warm slow circles around the head. “We’re not moving. Besides, I didn’t think you were doing those things to fucking get something out of it.”

“I wasn’t. I’m not,” he says softly. Presses the heart again. Watches Akira writhe and twitch.

He takes his hand back but leaves a single finger on his cock, gathering a bit of the silky pre-cum and dragging it across his cockhead. It’s so soft, so pleasurable to play with, Akechi could get off just on this. “I can’t explain it. I suppose I just thought...if I did good things, I’d be able to have a good life. But I see...really shitty people...not doing a single good thing in their life, just tearing others apart, bulldozing others down to get what they want, and getting so much because of it. There is no such thing as justice in this world, Akira. Can’t you see what I see now? There is no give and get. There is no return. There’s only pain and hurt and people taking from you...people leaving you... What can I do...? I don’t know what to do... Everything feels so hopeless.”

“Ugh...” Akira groans, thighs tensing. The chord of muscle juts out of his skin and Akira runs his other hand over it, soothing it. He’s pretty fucking muscular for a barista and singer. All those runs paid off. “What about Dr. Maruki? Have you talked to him about all this?”

Akechi laughs. “Yes. There are meds for that.”

“And you’re taking them?”

Akechi turns a small secretive smile up to Akira’s face of disbelief. “We’ve been trying to find the right dose.” He drags himself up Akira’s body and leans in, drawing the scent off his abdomen, up his chest. “Might not have it yet...” He presses a kiss beneath his clavicle, then goes higher, sucking softly at the base of his delicate neck. “You taste really good.”

Akira groans. His cock is still secure in Akechi’s hand and it gives another mighty twitch, eager and happy.

“You’re feeling it,” Akechi whispers into his pulse point. “Don’t lie to me, you are. I’m affecting you. Akira, the top.” He licks across the side of his neck, dipping his tongue against the soft tendons and the heat of his blood flowing through his precious body. “You were so sure of yourself, but you’re not much of a top right now, are you? You’re such a good dog. It’s only the second time, you shouldn’t be very converted yet, but you’re already changing... Oh, Akira. It’s only the second time,” he chuckles softly and gives his cock an indulgent massage. It squelches sloppily against his palm. “It’s working a little too well. Don’t tell me you wanted this before I began the process.”

“No,” Akira breathes, but his hips give a buck — a struggle? — that looks suspiciously like a thrust upward into his hand. “Oh...” He moans, voice hitching. “Oh.”

“Hmmm... Feels like you’re lying...” Akechi straddles Akira, letting his weight settle over his lap. He looks down between them. At Akira’s beautiful cock. Akira looks too and the emotion in them is so odd. It’s a battle between lust and rejection, desire and disgust. Go. Stop.

Akechi smiles sweetly and leans back, reaching for the item he left on the ground. “I made something new for you. A gift for our second encounter. You know, I never actually intended to use it. Though maybe I shouldn’t be so picky. I think you’re beginning to like this.”

“Fuck you,” Akira breathes, but it barely has any heat to it.

Akechi tosses a crooked grin up at him. He touches the heart on Akira’s neck and he gasps tightly. When the current releases him, his face looks dazed, his eyes look empty.

Akechi chuckles softly. “There we go... Where’s your indignant rage now?”

Akira’s breath is so jerky. Akechi can’t tell if it’s from restrained desire or the need to cry.

Akechi says, “Arsène? We’re ready for you. Can you bring the rest of the machine out?”

The door opens and Arsène carts out a large machine on wheels. Akechi gestures beside them and nods as Arsène sets it up half a foot away. “Thank you.”

“Yes, Master.”

“Arsène.” Akira breathes, eyeing him incredulously. “Last time. And now today. You don’t — You don’t approve of this, do you? I don’t like this. I want to get out. Please help me out.”

“He’s a robot, Akira,” Akechi murmurs as he connects the tubes to the fleshlight and reaches for the dildo on a strap. “We programmed him together, you saw. He’s command based, not morality based. Imagine.”

Arsène watches Akira evenly.

“I-I command you to get me out.”

Akechi heaves a disappointed sigh and Arsène looks between them for a long moment before bowing his head.

“Master Akira,” Arsène bows respectfully, hand on his heart. “I am very sorry that you have conflicting emotions about this, but it’s as you say, the Master’s health is my number one priority. He is unwell without you.”

“Unwell? What do you mean?”

Akechi tsks. “Arsène. Get your nose out of my business.”

“I know you’re afraid, but there’s nothing to fear, truly. He’s taking care of you here. It is not the same for him when he’s alone. He suffers beneath the burden of you and Yoshizawa, Master Akira. He hurts himself and sometimes takes it too far. I worry that, soon, he will —”

“— Enough,” Akechi hisses, turning to him with a severe look. “You brought what I asked for, now leave. That’s an order.”

“I just think —”

“An order, Arsène! An order!!”

Arsène sighs and bows. “...As you wish, Master.”

“Watch from the hall. Monitor to make sure he stays within our safety limits. Interfere if we breach those, but only then, do you understand? Only if Akira’s in physical danger.”

Akira looks between the two of them tightly, expression wary.

“As you wish.” Arsène leaves out the side door.

“...What did Arsène mean earlier? You take it too far?” Akira stares. “Take what too far?”

“Worrying about me even in here? Remember what I said earlier? This place is for your pleasure, Akira, not for fear,” Akechi says, eyes still on the series of connected tubes.

“...Are you cutting again? Fuck, I knew it. I knew something was up with you. All this shit...and then the way you’ve been behaving...like there’s a shadow over your shoulder or something. Fuck. FUCK. Goro. How do I help you? Because this isn’t it.”

“...It’s a bit shoddy, isn’t it? All this wiring...” He murmurs to himself as he leans over and fidgets with it. “I should’ve perfected that aspect...but I didn’t think we’d be here so soon again. It’s still functional but so messy. I hate messy...”

“I know you think it is. I know you think this is a solution or-or maybe some way to alleviate the pain, the stress all this wedding stuff is causing you. But there are better ways to do it. You have to tell me, Goro. When I remember.”

“...This is so much less complex than The Orb, so why the hell did I use so many wires...? Thank god I threaded them all through the top with that one... Can’t have them blocking the view when it’s ready...”

“Are you even listening?”

“I’m listening. I’m just setting up. Do you remember this room? Do you remember what it’s called?”

Akira sighs and lets his head hang. “No. I was a little fucking busy last time. There was...something...something on my face... It was...feeding me...” He turns to Akechi for confirmation, both horror and intrigue on his face.

Akechi gives a faint smile, still fiddling. “A mix of my cum and sex pollen.”

Akira blinks quickly. “...And this room. Images. Of cocks. And cum and...fuck,” his face begins to get overwhelmed. “You were training me.”

“The machine itself is called The Bottom Maker,” Akechi laughs. “It was supposed to be an inside joke between...well, me, myself, and I, I suppose. I liked to imagine that, if you were gay, then maybe I’d have a chance. So I’m trying to fix that.”

“But I’m not.”

“You and I agree there. If you were, I wouldn’t have had to make all of this. Same if I had been born correctly... What if I had been born a girl, Akira, do you think you would’ve chosen me?” He asks, finally looking up.

Akira’s face twists.

Akechi arches an eyebrow at his lack of response. “Akira?”

“...I don’t know,” he whispers.

“Of course you don’t. Well. It doesn’t matter. We’ll work on the issue at hand and fix it. This,” he says, holding up the modified fleshlight in one hand and the dildo on a tube in the other, “is the Penis Milker. You saw it the other month, remember? When you first snuck down here. It’s finished now. Notice the tubes. Intriguing, no?”

Akira closes his eyes. “Goro. Please. Let me go home. This is insane. I won’t...I won’t tell anyone. But you’ve already electrocuted me today, you’ve taken my clothes, you had hands fucking...molest me. I have something shoved into me and hanging out of me and it’s so big and it’s so thick and I... Haven’t you had your fun yet? Can’t that be enough for you...?”

“But that was just the warm up!” Akechi says, eyes wide with innocent surprise. “I’ve been working on this for a while now, we can’t let it go to waste. And I have quite a bit of my own cum stored up inside this machine here,” he says, patting the machine Arsène had carted in. “Still fresh. But it doesn’t last long, even with my modifications. I mean, I can come into it during the process too if it needs to be rejuvenated, but I just hate waste, don’t you? The sperm are still alive right now, warm and waiting for a home. Though...” He gives a little laugh. “Aren’t we all? Alas.”

“God... What do you do with it?”

“The cum?” Akechi leans forward and places a finger to Akira’s lips, closing them shut as he stares deeply into his eyes. He gives his mouth a few taps. “Patience, Akira. I’m explaining all that now. See? I connect this...” He grabs the fleshlight and presses the opening to the tip of Akira’s cock. It’s silky wet from being played with and it slides over him with ease. Akira’s thighs lift with a jerk at the sensation, the ankle binds catching with a jolt. “Here,” Akechi says brightly. He runs his finger over the base of the fleshlight and follows the tube connected to it. “I call it the Milker.

“Ideally, we’ll both be participants on this ride. There’ll be the receiver and the giver. The one being milked and the one being punished. This — this Milker —” He wraps his hand around the fleshlight over Akira and gives it a firm shake — “ is technically supposed to be for me, but, for right now, I want you to be the first one to experience it. When I turn the machine on, you’ll feel an indulgent suction and massage up the shaft. It’s very warm, very stimulating, you’ll see, and its job is to...well, essentially milk you. Milk your cock for your cum. It’s especially designed for quantity, but don’t worry, we won’t get rid of quality. Every time you come, the contractions inside the Milker will draw your semen out of your cock and bring it through the tubes, into the machine. It’ll collect all your cum, mix it together with what’s already in storage and add a special mix of hormones I’ve made with it. ‘What do I do with it’, you ask. Well, that’s where you come in, Akira. The receiving partner. See this next tube?”

He draws his finger out of the machine and follows the second tube to the dildo in his hand. It’s attached to a circular strap. “The mixture will flood out of the tip of the Punisher, which will be affixed into the poor bad boy’s little throat,” he murmurs, drawing his finger lightly down Akira’s neck, from his jaw and then over his collar. “If only you were good. Then I wouldn’t have to punish you.”

“Goro,” Akira says faintly. “Please.”

“Please...what? Please punish you? Please begin? Because we already have.”

Akira makes a soft shaky sound in the back of his throat. “Then I just won’t come...hrk!!”

Akechi’s pressed the heart button down. “You’ll come,” Akechi laughs softly, nuzzling his nose against the heat of Akira’s neck as his muscles tremble and light up. He hangs both arms over Akira’s shoulders and stays there, body pressed over him. It’s so comforting. So nice. He swears he can feel the faint buzz lifting off Akira’s skin. Electric.

He releases the heart. “Besides, it’s not about whether you come or not. I already know you will. I’m training you. That’s what all this is for. Training your mind, training your body... Milking the cum out of you is a thrilling bonus. But the depositing part, the punishing, well, that’s fun too.”

“Jesus,” Akira spits. “You really put a lot of thought into this.”

“An active mind, like a hamster on its wheel. It’s torture, really. But at least it can give us this. The intricacy is half the fun, isn’t it? Here’s another button for you. Press it,” Akechi smiles pleasantly. “And that will release everything into our Punisher and squirt it all down your throat. Our cum, special feel-good hormones, changers... It’s made to absorb into your stomach nearly immediately. I researched that for a few days non-stop...just for you.” He breathes into Akira’s ear before drawing back and smiling at him.

Akira is not as thrilled. He stares at him like he’s crazy. “Goro.”

Maybe he is crazy. Because none of this feels as wrong as Akira’s making it out to be. Akira is staring at him in horror and Akechi feels...nothing, really. Nothing but excitement for the experiment, pleasure at seeing it work. That probably means something, is indicative of how much he’s slipped. But he doesn’t mind. It’s a protective mechanism probably. Right now, he’s forgotten all about his misery and loneliness. He was just panicking in the quiet hall up above, but, down here? There’s no more Yoshizawa stealing everything from him. There’s no more watching Akira’s back fade into the distance. Here, he’s entertained, all the attention, all the focus is right on him. Even Akira’s. It’s the best he’s felt since last time and that was months ago. He doesn’t have to split Akira here to share, but he can split his hole instead, to indulge.

This is his space. He’s in control here. And Akira must listen to him down here.

“But wait. There’s more.” He twists, grabbing two smaller tubes with clear small cups at the end. He holds them up. “See what I mean about all the wiring? Messy. And these are just for show, rather than function, but it’s the best of both worlds: it both milks and punishes at the same time. Nipple pumps.”

He attaches them to each of Akira’s pink soft rosebuds and Akira gasps, looking down but being unable to stop any of it. They latch on, drawing Akira’s nipples forward and erect.

Akechi hums warmly as he watches them pinken, playing with the tip of Akira’s dressed up cock as he does so. “Just as pretty as I thought...”

Akira looks up from staring at his sucked nipples, cupped in small soft plastic domes that squelch on nothing.

“You don’t have to look at me like that, you know. I’m still me. Right? You know me. Am I really that frightening...? People do this all the time with their partners.”

He looks up and meets Akira’s gaze. They stare at each other, but whatever usual casual warmth is between them has been shredded down in a black hole somewhere else. This Akira is new, but he feels so secure, so practiced. He stares back like a competitor, like an enemy, gaze like steel, delicacy lost, and it makes the hairs on the back of Akechi’s neck raise. Makes the blood in his body thrum with excitement. With elation. Even dressed in nipple pumps and chained to a chair, Akira looks fierce.

He grins, feeling bright. “I’ll do the first few just to get you started. But, once you’re comfortable with it, I’ll let you do the rest.”

“I won’t.”

Akechi shocks him. “You will.”

Akira gasps. “I won’t.”

Akechi laughs. He leans over and switches the machine on. “Alright, Akira. Sure you won’t. Want to make it a game? Whoever’s right, wins. What do we win though...? Hmm...” He leans forward and presses a forceful kiss to Akira’s lips. “You,” he breathes into Akira’s mouth as he pulls back slightly, looking up into his eyes through dazed heat. “I think I want to win you.” He flicks at the dome over Akira’s nipples.

Akira exhales sharply.

“What do you want to win?” Akechi asks. “Let me guess, your freedom from this place? Alright. How about this? If you can resist wanting me or any of my special little creations, I’ll take that as confirmation of your complete and utter heterosexuality. Of your being straight as an arrow! Of there being no hope between us... I don’t mean just getting hard...” He smiles and touches his hand to Akira’s very hard erection. “That’s just not fair, is it? All I need from you is to not admit it out loud, don’t say yes to anything, and I’ll let you go, I won’t make you forget, and then I’ll burn this all to the ground tonight. You have my word. How about that? Does that sound fair for our little game?”

Akira swallows hard, watching him warily.

“What? You don’t believe me? Arsène!” He calls. “Hold me to that, will you? If Akira doesn’t beg me for more sex, then we burn this thing to the ground. That’s an order.”

“Heard, Master,” comes from the speakers. “I’m excellent at demolition.”

“Perfect! See? He’s on standby. Just don’t beg me then, Akira.”

“I won’t.”

Akechi smiles at him. “Then you’ve already won, haven’t you? This will be so easy for you. As straight as you are.” He thumbs over the heart before drawing his hand away and to his shoulder. “I won’t even shock you this time over it. Just to be...extra fair.” He runs his touch up Akira’s throat, ending up on his full wet lips. “But I won’t say I won’t touch you...” With his other hand, he massages Akira’s breast. “...Ever wonder why people kiss?”

“What?” Akira’s lips are red and pink from Akechi’s bite, from Akechi working his mouth open with his tongue. Akechi draws his finger over Akira’s lip, watching him shudder as he caresses it. “I don’t know,” he mutters. “Because it feels good?”

“Does it? It isn’t cold? It isn’t grey?”

“What...? No.”

“They’ve done studies. Apparently, in general, men like it sloppier, they like it dirtier, open mouthed, forceful. Like an animal. Terribly mindless. Isn’t it horrible?”

“Ugh.”

“Think about it, Akira. Why would men want that? It’s subconscious, it’s nature. It’s because they’re trying to transfer their saliva into their mate’s mouths. The more, the better. The studies found, in their saliva, there are a great number of hormones, all that increase arousal. So the longer a couple kisses, the more spit is being transferred into the prey. Or the receiver. The one being injected with spit is forced into a state of arousal. Isn’t that fascinating? You had no idea, did you? It was functional, what you were doing to her, it was purposeful. The longer you kissed your Yoshizawa, the more she’d want your cock because your hormone-filled spit filled her mouth, her brain, her will. You did that, you deceitful, tricky thing. How is that any different from what I do...? You do it too, Akira. You do it too...” Akechi strokes Akira’s jaw slowly, hazy eyes following the motion. “It works between men. Why do you think that would be? If it’s so unnatural... Open your mouth.”

“Goro.” He presses his lips shut tight, eyes blazing.

“Akira,” he murmurs with a soft chuckle. He leans in, speaking against Akira’s mouth, feeling the soft warmth of his lips against his. “Let’s do an experiment together. Isn’t science fun? You liked it in the study, when I was measuring you... I wonder...will my saliva arouse you? Man to man? Will it pass through your body, into your bloodstream, and infect your mind? Change you to my will...? Do you think I can do that to you? Since you’re so sure you’re straight.”

Akira keeps his lips together tightly, giving his head a quick shake.

Akechi thumbs lightly over the heart collar. “...I know I told you I wouldn’t use this, but I’m so tempted... Is it cheating, do you think? I mean...it’s not like it’s some odd synthetic substance or something. And you’re so pretty when you seize up like that. Teaching you such an important lesson... Let me ask again. Open your mouth, Akira.”

He doesn’t. Akechi presses the button.

Akira’s body goes rigid as a board as he’s caught. When it releases, his mouth instantly drops open to pant.

He realizes what he’s done two seconds too late. “Don’t —”

Akechi slips his tongue into Akira’s mouth. Messy, sloppy, and open-mouthed. Akira grunts, in distress. They squirm. They fight. Akechi is forceful, slipping as deep into Akira’s space as he can, taking this moment because it’s the only moment he has left to take. He cups Akira’s neck with both hands, presses the button with both thumbs, delights in the way it settles Akira. How it’s breaking him down the more he does it. He kisses and kisses and kisses Akira, mouth salivating, giving it all to his victim. Until the fight fades. Until Akira is tenderized beneath Akechi’s tongue, soft. And then he forces his kiss upon Akira even longer. Until his lips are raw. Until he’s comfortable and satiated. So satiated. In ways he never thought he’d be. Because Akira smells like Akechi. Akira tastes like him.

And it comes as a shock — it still does, even now — when, with a soft whimper, Akira opens his mouth...and begins kissing him back.

It’s a confused start. His tongue is hesitant, freezing occasionally like he’s thinking of pulling back, but he’s changing. With dark delight, Akechi can tell.

It’s sloppy. Spit swaps between the both of them and Akechi thinks deliriously that the bullshit speech he’s peddling about spit has to be true because it hits him so hard and fast, he’s breathless.

When he pulls back, he holds Akira’s jaw open, and spits into his mouth with a vengeance.

Akira groans, eyes closed, eyebrows pressed together desperately.

“Good, isn’t it? Yeah, you like it,” Akechi breathes, licking into Akira’s mouth again, trying to coat the inside with every bit of his own fluids. “And the prostate. You experienced that last time, loved it like a practiced whore. The body is designed in such a specific way. Patterns upon patterns upon patterns. It’s brilliant. Everything has a use. And yes, even the fucking appendix has one too. But the prostate. Akira, think about it. Why does it feel so good to touch it? You were dying for it last time. If it wasn’t meant to be touched... It was created to feel good... Keep your mouth open. Or I’ll really punish you.”

Akira does like a baby bird, head tilted back, even as Akechi pulls away. Akechi grabs his own hair and twists it over his shoulder, draws up over Akira, and spits inside again.

Akira twitches, eyelids fluttering.

“Good?”

“Hah...” Akira keeps his mouth wide to him. He’s so hard, aching red, he juts his hips up against Akechi.

“Told you. I told you. Hormones. They control the body. They control you. And if those hormones are mine...” He spits one last time. And then he grabs Akira by the jaw, forces the Punisher into his mouth, slides it down his protesting throat, and straps the leather around the back of his head.

Akira cries out, but it’s too late. Akechi so easily slid beneath his defenses and seized what he wanted. It helps that the spit made him so dumb.

Akira gags violently, but there’s hardly any sound. It’s choked and panicked and muted. Stuffed. Can’t move. Only jerks and heaves. Nipples bucking out, only to get milked deeper.

Akechi pulls back as he admires Akira struggling. From the outside, it just looks like Akira’s wearing a thick gag. But Akechi knows what’s really inside: curved around the base of his tongue, pressing out from the inside of his esophagus. When he finally settles, defeated, Akira’s head is tilted at a weird careful angle to accommodate the girth that fills his neck, and his eyes are dazed and horny. His hair is sticking up, messed and unkept. His mouth is forced wide, his lips outlined in a wide ‘o’ beneath the black cloth gag. His throat looks odd too. Filled, as it is beneath his heart collar. A red blush has caught his entire body, running down his chest and to his sternum. He’s gorgeous. Oh, the spit works alright.

Akira’s overwhelmed. Akechi can tell just from looking at him. His eyes are frazzled and harrassed. The breath he forces through his nose is tight and constricted.

“Nnn,” he gurgles around the Punisher, the sound full and desperate. “Nnn.”

“Was it not enough for him to enjoy it? I thought we had it...but he looks rather displeased...” Akechi murmurs thoughtfully, finger to his mouth. “Arsène. Akira’s readings.”

The speaker clicks on. “Heart rate is one-thirty. Arousal is...severe, to put it lightly.”

“Jesus...and now?” He presses the heart button and watches Akira gag on the dildo, his head jerking unevenly to the current pleasuring him.

“Higher, sir. He likes it.”

“Excellent.” Akechi releases and presses his palm to Akira’s chest, feels the rapid rhythm. He rolls his neck on his shoulders. “And stress indicators?”

“Not quite a panic attack.”

“Well...that’s something, I suppose... Tell me if he gets close. With me, Akira?”

Akira looks up in an odd daze. His eyes are red-rimmed and filled with fury. But they’re filled with heat too, with delirious longing. They’re battling each other. One’s losing...

Akechi stares back. There’s something about being in this space that has him feeling so calm. For once, he has everything in his hands. All his hard work, all his supposed genius — it’s done something for him. It never has before, not where it really mattered. It fills him with victory.

He has him.

“Do you want me?” Akechi whispers down to him. “Will you beg?”

Akira glares back at him, sharp enough to cut diamond. He gives his head a quick and decisive shake.

“Alright. That’s alright. Arsène, begin the presentation.”

There’s the soft sound of heavy giant gears shifting to life in the walls and the floor and walls begin to blossom out, spreading through space around them in a hypnotic swirl. His voice echoes hypnotically through the air, low and soft and soothing. Images flicker behind Akechi, but he doesn’t pay them any mind. They bother Akira, though, and that’s the only point he needs.

“Nnn,” Akira cringes, closing his eyes tightly and shaking his head. He soon stops though, with a sharp choking sound. The large cock twisting in his throat has got to feel odd.

“One thing I don’t like about this machine is that I can’t give you a flush of testosterone,” Akechi murmurs, pressing a finger to his lip. He grins. “Or can I?” He grabs the red button and presses it.

Hot cum and hormones travel through the tube and into the dildo, releasing into Akira’s stomach.

Akira makes a sharp surprised sound, his abdomen bucking and his body tightening as something Akechi cannot see happens. His eyes blow wide, he squirms in his seat, fighting some invisible force frantically.

Akechi stares down at Akira’s stomach, trying to decide if he can tell what’s going on beneath the surface, but Akira’s fighting too violently. His abdomen contracts and twists. But that’s a nice sight too. “There’s a little sample of what you can give yourself by tapping this button.” He holds it up between them. “That’s forfeit though, isn’t it, Akira? Using my machines for your pleasure... Better not.”

He puts the receiver down and settles back over Akira, perching his chin on his shoulder as he cuddles in. Warm. Soft. But firm. Akira feels so nice to lay over. Akechi relaxes fully into him. He pinches at the little nipple domes, watching as the suction strengthens and Akira’s nipple is sucked even higher, the tip of it touching the tube’s opening.

“I know you so well, did you know that? I find it so amusing how easily predictable you are to me. I knew you’d like the spit. Because, beneath that sweet and calm exterior, there’s an animal inside you, rabid and wild, just like me... Something wanting, something hungry, something desperate.”

“Mmmf!” Akira moans.

“What?” He whispers into his ear. “What is it? You have your sweet little Sumi fooled, Akira, but not me. You’re a spit kind of person, you’re just too scared to admit it. So I have it all prepared for you. I analyzed the hormones that affect arousal within my own saliva, and I cloned them, created a synthetic counterpart. I tried to imagine what you’d need during this,” he whispers. “And look at you... Look at how easy it makes you.”

It’s true. It’s already happening. Akira’s going from wound up and screeching to hazy and soft. His eyes are half closed as he leans back into the seat, the entirety of his weight resting there. “Mmmf...”

“The first encounter was to ease you into it all, to realize that your body could love to be touched by mine, could love to touch mine... This encounter is to get you to absorb it, to notice where it is inside you. Rather than something unattached to you, something surprising and out of left field, this is going to latch on. You’re going to start wondering...where’s the origin? Because it feels strangely like it’s coming from inside the house...deep within your pristine subconscious. This wretched horrible desire inside you...it’s not a drug, Akira. It isn’t ecstasy that was slipped to you, some malevolent outside force. If only you could keep that excuse. It’s you. And you’ll have to face it. Your shadow self. Look at this.”

He hovers his thumb over the red button and lifts it in front of Akira’s face. Akira blinks wearily to himself, eyes sliding down to gaze at it. “Want me to press it? Want my cum?”

Akira frowns a bit, confused. He hesitates, battling two sides of himself. Then, quickly, like he’s teetering between another answer, he shakes his head no.

“Really?” Akechi gropes Akira’s stomach with his hand. “It’s inside here. I can’t feel it yet, but there I am... Slowly absorbing... It feels so good, doesn’t it...? Warm and comforting. Like a fire tending to your belly...”

Akira’s watching him through dark eyes. He bucks his hips up, it looks like a thoughtless reflex, and runs the tip of his penis across the inside of Akechi’s arm. He rubs a long strip of silk over his wrist, grunting in relief as he does.

Akechi blinks in surprise, drawing his hand back before it gets tangled in the tube. He gives a soft smile. “Oh... I see. You’re trying to act like it’s not affecting you, and yet...” He circles his fingers together, drawing the ‘o’ down Akira’s fleshlight-covered cock.

“Mmmfffgghhh...” Akira groans, giving another indulgent buck.

“Go ahead, this one’s for free. That’s it... There we go... Seek that feeling inside you... All of my sex hormones are making you dumb and long for me, aren’t they? They’re turning on desire that was already there. That’s it, Akira... Feel it. Allow it.”

Akira snaps out of it — or tries to — and blinks his eyes quickly, shaking his head again. Faster, this time, in disbelief. He drops his hips, stops fucking into Akechi’s circled fingers. A long string of pre-cum connects Akechi’s hand to Akira’s red juicy cock head where it’s seeping through the top seal of the fleshlight.

Akechi grins brightly at him, lowering his sticky hand to Akira’s chest and massaging him gently with his own pre-cum, smearing it over his porcelain skin. It’s happening much faster than he thought it would. “Resisting still, hm?” He releases around the heart collar, feels around for the secret level button on the back and switches the intensity up. He comes back around and caresses the heart.

Akira grunts, body going alight and taut, eyes rolling back into his head. “Nnnnnnnnn... Nn-nnn-nnnn....!”

Akechi leans his head back down on his shoulder and continues caressing his long bowed neck. It’s really arching, like the rest of his body caught in a current. “...I like how stubborn you are, you know. You’ve always been that way. I like the way you groan too...that’s also always been that way... Through our walls, deep and guttural, as you spilled into your hand, thinking you were so quiet... You were louder than the TV I turned up to tune you out. But it never worked. You’ve always been so horny. So easily lost within pleasure, forgetting everything else around you...”

Akira is released and he heaves out lungfuls of breath through his nose, forceful and crazed. His eyes still roll.

“Mmf. Mm.” Akira stares back as defiantly as he can, but he’s a mess. His hair every which way.

“Me?” Akechi laughs. “Could you hear me too?”

“Mmf.” It sounds like a yes.

Akechi laughs into his hand. “I’ll tell you a secret. I got off on the thought that you might... I’d lean into the wall as I’d finger myself, wet and messy, imagining you pressed against the other side, listening in to the sounds of my pleasure. Were you...? Did you want me? Do you now...?” He whispers. “I can press the button, Akira. I can touch and satisfy that deep desire, always buried inside you, one you were too scared to touch. Let me care for it...let me caress it...handle it, wring it, make you come. All you have to do is say yes and you’ll be feeling so good...”

Akira’s eyes are pure heat as he stares back into Akechi’s challenge. He gives a faint shake of his head.

“But it’ll bring so much relief... Why bother fighting now? You’ve denied yourself this longing for thirty years now, Akira. That’s so many miserable years... We’ve been built up too much now. We’re at our limits. I can feel it and I know you can feel it too. This is just denying the inevitable. Come on. Press it. Press it.” The room is still spinning around them, outward, always outward, drawing their center away in a neverending inevitable swirl. “You want to come, don’t you? You want to burst into my hand, feel me squeeze onto you tight and hard, want me to jerk you off, kiss you, spit into your mouth so you can feel my desire spread through your veins.” Akira’s eyes go dreamy and distant. “Don’t you want that? Don’t you want to come with my spit in your mouth?” Akechi leans down and licks across Akira’s cheek, over the gag.

Akira makes a small helpless sound deep in his throat. He closes his eyes tightly and tries to shy away. Torture.

“Akira, answer me. I need an answer. I’m so insecure without your approval. Wasn’t it so good that night in the study? Don’t you want me? You felt things you’ve never felt before. But what could it be like on the other side? I know you better than you know yourself. It’s time to admit it. ...Just admit you want a chance to fuck me too...”

Akira’s eyes are still clenched shut tight and he shakes his head again even harder. But it’s the intensity of the shake. The wild denial, like he’s clinging so desperately to it before he falls.

“Such disobedience...” Akechi breathes against his cheek. “But I can break you.” He presses a kiss to it the same time he presses his finger to the heart at his neck. “I think we’re almost there.”

“Hrk!!” Akira goes tight and then, as it continues...he melts...smiling serenely.

Trained.

Akechi dives in. “Say it! Say you want me.”

Akira hesitates, but the smile remains.

“The study! Our First Encounter! I fingered you on my bed all night long and you remember now, don’t you? You remember what that night was like. How good it was being bloated with Arsène’s cum as I pushed it deeper and deeper into your beautiful womb. You couldn’t move, you were just my plaything! Oh, Akira, don’t you want to experience that again? Don’t you want to push your cum into me? Make me your doll! Fuck me!”

Akira nods along dumbly. “Mmm...”

Victory.

Akechi releases the heart collar, Akira’s slovenly smile still placed upon his gagged lips.

“You said yes.” Akechi pants breathlessly as he stares at Akira’s emptied out face. Akira is so dumb right now, he doesn’t even realize what he just admitted to, what he just gave up. It was his deepest truth. One so guarded he couldn’t even look at it straight on. He finally admitted it...to Akechi. There’s no way he’s ever admitted it to anyone else, especially his beloved Sumi. Miracles are happening tonight. Such beautiful miracles. “...You said yes.”

Akechi wins. Akechi wins.

Carefully, reverently, Akechi leans down and licks along the tight stretch of Akira’s lips sealed around the dildo’s base. “What did I tell you? I win, Akira. I win... I win you. I knew I could get you to agree... You want me. You want to fuck me. Come inside me... Lay on top of me all night and make me yours. You. Said. Yes.”

Akechi grabs the receiver and slides it into Akira’s lax hand. He holds his hand tightly in his as he presses his forehead flat to Akira’s. They’re on this journey together.

“This will feed you our cum,” Akechi whispers gently, running his fingers over Akira’s soft hand. “Press it. If you want that...”

Akira’s thumb hovers over the button, hesitating, just slightly, like he actually has a part of his brain left. The soft echo of Akechi’s voice hypnotizing Akira behind them still plays throughout the room in a circular motion, dipped in honey, warm, like they’re submerged in the voice, submerged in him.

Akechi leans into his ear and murmurs lowly — a secret, shared between only the two of them. “I come down here at night. I sit in this very seat, and, as you’re slumbering away at home, I think of you...and I come.” He runs the full width of his palm over the length of Akira’s neck, drawing a soft sound from deep within. “I come and I come and I can’t stop coming, not as long as you’re in my thoughts, not as long as you’re deep within my head. And you always are, Akira. All that cum...milked from me all night long, just for you.”

Akira presses the button.

Cum speeds through the tube and down. Akechi can feel him react, feel the muscles of his face spasm more than when the shock collar is activated. Akira gurgles, body bucking up into the seat, his hips snapping up and up and up as his eyes roll back into his head.

“Nn! Nnn!!” He protests, thumb flying off the button, but it’s too late, he’s already made the choice.

He doesn’t even know what he’s doing. Akechi looks down and watches Akira’s Milker-covered cock thrust up in the air into nothing, curling up toward the sky, bobbing in space, so...untethered. Akechi lowers his hips slowly, experimentally, and lets Akira’s poor deprived cock have some friction to press up and against. He allows Akira to thrust against his pants, across the imprint of his hole, the Milker pressing against him in eager quick bursts.

So much for his protesting. The win doesn’t feel hard fought at all, it’s almost a little pathetic.

He groans softly over Akira’s gag, pressing both hands into the headrest behind his head. “Akira,” he breathes. “Are you feeling it...? Do you want to fuck me yet...?”

Akira hasn’t come down. He’s still thrusting, still groaning orgasmically.

“You want to fuck me,” Akechi whispers, kissing his cheek chastely before painting a strip of his spit up his temple, taking his tears into his mouth. “You want me more than anything. Science has made it so. It’s in your gut, Akira. In the core of your being. My sweet hormones, taking root and blossoming inside of you. Feel that? We’re in the center of this room, the walls spinning out, and we’re at its will. My cum is pumping into you. My voice is telling you what to do and how to be. And you like it...slut.”

Akira’s breath hitches and he climaxes at once. The clear window at the top of the Milker is smothered in Akira’s pleasure, and the walls begin to massage and suck it away, milking him. Akira makes soft desperate sounds on each contraction.

Akechi tilts his head, resting it on Akira’s shoulder. “Press it again, if you want,” he breathes, peppering soft kisses up his skin. “I know it’s scary, this new discovery. But try to notice what your body is actually feeling now. Comfort. Pleasure. When you want more of that, whenever you want our cum to be fed into your stomach, press the button, and it’ll happen all over again. Drink me up, Akira. Fill yourself. Engorge yourself on me. It’s okay. It’s alright to let go...”

Akira moans. His thumb shakes over the button. He’s fighting.

“Akira. You’re sweating from how much you want it. Why torture yourself? You’ve already lost our game and now it’s just time to enjoy ourselves. I won’t judge you for wanting pleasure. It’s a natural normal human response. It makes no sense to deny yourself that. Punish yourself. For me.”

Akira groans softly, his whole body shaking with effort.

“Akira,” Akechi whispers against his face, pressing a gentle chaste kiss on his cheek and staying there, breathing against him. He lifts Akira’s other hand and slips it up beneath his shirt, rests it over his chest, fingers over his erect nipples. “Akira, feel me...”

Akira presses the button.

One single flush of hormones and he’s crying out, muffled, in bliss. He rides the machine again, bucking up against Akechi’s genitals.

“Oh...” Akechi breathes, hot and feverish. He’s slipping down Akira further, his cock pressed against the contraption smothering Akira’s. He unzips himself so he’s exposed and he presses into the tight space, begins to rock against him, grabbing Akira’s cock into his hand and rubbing them together indulgently. “You’re so big,” he moans over Akira’s chest, cheek smearing against it. He spies Akira’s pert nipple and he remembers what he was thinking the other day. He rips off the dome, leans his face in, begins to suck. Tastes so raw. Salty.

“Want you,” he whispers, nibbling on the red bud and feeling the swollen heat over his tongue. He sucks harder, eyes closing down in bliss as he’s as rough as he wants. He’s going to come himself.

Akechi fondles Akira’s chest with eager quickness. There’s a soft click as Akira presses the button again.

“You like it,” Akechi kisses with wonder. “You like my creation. It was worth it, wasn’t it? All that work. You like it.”

Cum floods Akira. He’s doing it. He said he wouldn’t, but now, here, beneath Akechi, he’s lost himself enough his logical mind’s shunted to the back, in slumber.

Another click. More. Akira gurgles like he’s drowning in bliss, head tilted back to the sky. Drinking Akechi up. His stomach is beginning to physically bloat.

“Arsène,” Akechi murmurs hazily, staring at the bulge in his stomach. “How is he...?”

“Deep in a heightened aroused state, sir. Absolutely drowning in it. I don’t think he has any cognitive ability currently, so no anxiety. Perfectly dim-witted.”

Akechi laughs, voice high and hysterical. “Oh, Akira. I knew you’d love me if you gave me a chance. Good boy. Very good boy. Keep punishing yourself with that thick heavy cock down your throat for me! Punish yourself... You’re so easily trained, so easily mine.”

Click.

Akechi bites down on Akira’s nipple hard, tastes rawness and copper. Still latched on and sucking, he slips his own pants off, letting them pool at his ankles.

He grabs the Milker, slides it off Akira’s very red, very wet cock, and slips it over his own. Immediately, he’s met with a blissfully tight suction that hugs the full length of his penis. His own eyes roll back and he arches over Akira, gasping hotly into the air. He has tested it before, of course, but it’s never felt anywhere remotely close to this, wet with Akira’s cum like this.

“F-Fuck!” He wheezes, hunching over and slamming his forehead into Akira’s shoulder. “That’s...that’s so... Fuck. It really does feel like it’s milking you, doesn’t it? Oooooooh fuck. Didn’t try it this turned on... I feel like it’s sucking out my core right through my dick.” He gives a faint laugh. “They don’t call it the Penis Milker for nothing though, right...? Shit. This has to be the best thing I’ve ever made... Oh god, I just had an idea: what if I doubled the Milkers, Akira? One for you, one for me. Then we can be milked at the same time. Feed you double... Watch you drown on our cum... You won’t even be able to walk by the end of it. It’ll be so good.”

Akechi spreads his legs wider and settles down, trying to ignore the way his heart is pounding madly against his chest. Arsène hasn’t protested, so he figures he must not be having a heart attack, but it feels so frantic and unruly in his chest. He just wants so much, he doesn’t feel human. It feels like he’s about to burst into a million pieces against Akira’s naked body. He’s okay with that though. What a place to die.

“It’s on me now, Akira,” Akechi breathes into his cheek. “If you press the button when I’m coming, we’ll be —”

Akira presses the button. Right in the middle of Akechi’s speech too.

The suction intensifies and Akechi hiccups, jolting in place, hips reflexively jerking inward and slapping against Akira’s torso. The feeling is too intense. Quantity, he remembers, and quality.

“Stop,” Akechi laughs, looking up into Akira’s spasming throat as the tubes bring it down and in. He takes it with a crazed manic energy, gurgling and drowning on their sperm but unable to stop. “Stop for a second. I’m not ready.”

Akira presses it again, jams his thumb down, and Akechi yelps, falling backward slightly. He didn’t mean to, didn’t even think about it. It sounds ridiculous later, but he honest to god, just falls right onto Akira’s cock. Spears himself on his hard thick erection.

“AH,” he cries out, sheathed straight onto the tip, pierced right through. It doesn’t make it all the way in, but the thickness of his cockhead is enough for his first time. It is much more painful than he thought it’d be. Apparently arousal does not make it all good.

“S-stop!” Akechi wheezes, gripping to the sides of the chair in an attempt to take some of the weight off their connection. “I’m not — I’m going to fucking split in two! Fuck!”

Akira heaves out a guttural cry and begins to thrust up wildly inside. A beast turned on.

Akechi screams and twitches and writhes, falling even more, draping himself backward over Akira’s legs so his head nearly hits the ground. His hair skirts the red and black swirls, spinning away beneath them.

“No! No! I-it’s too much! You — animal!! I’m not ready! Slow down! Slow down!! FUCK YOU.”

Akira keeps thrusting rabidly, holding Akechi up by the tip of his cock, shoving it up into Akechi’s gut to keep him there.

“Oh, my god,” Akechi wails, hands pressed to his groin to keep it together. He swears he can feel his cock push against his palms. “Oh, my god. Akira, no. Akira, stop.”

An intense suctioning pulls up at Akechi’s cock. And again. And again. And Akira’s making wet choking sounds above him that don’t stop. They keep going, out of control and eager, just like the sucking on Akechi’s cockhead.

“Oh,” Akechi weeps. It’s too much. Too intense. Akira won’t give him a break. He’s so full, he’s going to burst. He can’t breathe! He can’t even pull himself back up, too tender, too overwhelmed. His legs are sprawled over either side of Akira’s seat, weaved through the arm holes, and his poor cunt is still getting porked wildly. Akira has no remorse. It’s painful. It feels like revenge right in his most private, most raw core.

“Akira!” Akechi calls out desperately. “AKIRA. STOP. AKIRA!!” And he arches and comes into the violent Milker.

It’s heavenly. It’s celestial. It feels like it’s all around him and inside the hole of his slit, pulling the cum right out of his body before he even has the chance to expel it. It’s the oddest feeling. It’s sucking him dry. Milking him fiercely, collecting every last drop from him without remorse. He’s its hostage. “AH. AHH... AKIRA. AKIRA...!”

Akira groans, the sound wilder than anything Akechi’s heard. His thumb is glued to the button, he won’t relent, and he thrashes inside Akechi like a crazed beast, pounding into his walls over and over and —

Akechi has never been penetrated before. Not by anything real. And he thought he was ready, really, he did, but he apparently isn’t. It’s different somehow, having someone with a will on the other end. Akira’s going too fast. Akechi can’t enjoy it. He’s too tight. It hurts —

Akira comes with a long drawn out shout, pouring globs and globs of his hot climax into Akechi’s belly, releasing everything into him like his life depends on it.

Heat. Heat everywhere. Spreading through the center of his core and out, Akira’s cum, becoming part of Akechi.

Akechi gasps, mouth dropping wide, eyes shattered open. It’s life changing. He stares as the hypnotic swirls pull away, endless waves. He forgot completely. Cock, cock, cock, his voice repeats. And, on the screen, in big ludicrous images, are cocks bursting and coming. Above and around them. Akechi feels the images pressed like shooting cocks slapping vigorously against his face. Dripping down his body, submerging him in milk and spit and desire. These meaty cocks, they spear through him, hold him captive to this moment in time. Laying their chunky weight over his back, hitting against his delicate throat, cramming beneath his arm, into the crevices of him, laid over his face and slapping him with wet sweaty spunk. It’s suffocating, but in the best way. He can’t breathe, but it’s because his body and mind are swaddled in Akira’s cock and cum. He breathes it into his lungs. He tastes it on his tongue. He’s a thousand times more a slave to it than he ever was. Caught in his own spider-webbed design, mind fracturing and fusing to his own hypnotic command. Eyes unfocused and fed in a hypnotic swirl imprinted right on his soft vulnerable mind.

Cock, cock, cock.

Love. His. Cock.

AKIRA.

He does. He will. Always. Promise. He’s obsessed with it. He’s its slave. He’ll do anything for it.

Anything.

He laughs, high and muddled, throwing an arm over his face.

The weight of everything makes Akechi slip down, over Akira’s legs and off Akira’s cock. He doesn’t even notice, at first. He ends up sprawled on the floor in a heap, the Milker still connecting him to Akira. He feels dizzy and heavy post orgasm, he can’t believe he just had so much energy. It feels like he’ll never have energy again.

Akechi closes his eyes and lays there, hair plastered to the sweat over his face. He can’t move. His mind feels raw with his natural and newly unnatural desire for cock. Satiated though. Like he was torn open, ripped out, and replaced with a mindless sex beast. It’s so nice. He wants to be that beast always, lurking at the pit of this sex dungeon, preying on his victim. His Akira. Feeding him cock, taking his cock. His cunt feels so warm, throbbing with satisfaction. Akira found his pleasure inside and left him his cum as a thank you.

“Master.”

Fuck. “...Mm...? ‘M fine,” he mumbles listlessly. Cock...cock...cock...cock...

“Akira’s heart rate, sir. It hasn’t calmed. The hormones have gotten rid of his refractory period and, honestly, I’m growing very concerned about the limits of his stomach. There’s seemingly no end to his arousal like this.”

“...Mmmrgghh?” Akechi mumbles, regretfully pushing himself up. He dusts the hair out of his eyes and looks up into the side. Akira’s legs are parted and his cock is a proud erect monument stamped above Akechi, the shadow of him dousing Akechi in darkness. The entire thing is rose red. It’s dribbling, cum all over his lap and splattered over the seat. It’s dripping off the edge and onto Akechi’s thighs. Akechi runs a finger through it and sighs, recharged, effectively drawn in.

He tosses the Milker off himself and then pulls himself up by the edge of the seat where Akira is still madly clicking away, eyes dumb and empty in trance. No denial there anymore. Only Akechi’s will imprinted onto the walls, the inside of his brain, the back of his dumb eyelids. One of his nipple pumps is still attached and sucking merrily away, one drapes off his shoulder and swings beside him on his seat. But his stomach...

His stomach is full. He’s bursting...and writhing with happiness. There’s a glow about him. Full pure bliss. Pregnant with cum. Living in a fantasy world filled with only their sex and desire and happiness. Fulfilled.

Akechi gazes on in awe, sinking back over Akira. He wraps him up in his arms.

“Look at him...” He hums, so happy. He doesn’t understand why Arsène called it out other than to highlight the beauty of it. “Oh, my god, look at that face. He’s in bliss. Because of me.”

Akira keeps clicking the button. Smash, smash, smash, smash, smash. Fill, fill, fill, fill.

“...I’ve never seen him so happy...”

“Sir.”

Akechi can’t hear him. He draws his fingertips over Akira’s cheek, and follows the movement in, pressing a soft kiss to his face.

“I love you,” he whispers, securing a hand over Akira’s and helping him press the button. Grinds it in, together, so Akira can be filled more with their healthy milk. “Love you, love you...love you... Oh, Akira. I’ve always wanted this. You love me too, don’t you...? Don’t you, Akira...? Akira...”

“Sir.” Akira’s head is bagged and pulled back, out of Akechi’s hands. Akira doesn’t fight, just lets himself be taken. He can still smash the button like this just fine. Arsène appears behind him, face stern. When Akechi doesn’t do anything but stare dumbly back, Arsène reaches over with crisp exact movement, and plucks the red button from Akira’s hand.

“NNngnn...” Akira protests weakly, but he can’t see, can’t do anything. His head is literally in a bag. “Nn...nn....” His hand sluggishly reaches out through the air blindly with need, but Arsène stays a firm distance away.

Akechi blinks between the button and Akira’s empty hand. “He wants it...” He murmurs. “Give it back to him.”

“Sir. At this point, the cum bloat will be incredibly uncomfortable. But anymore, and he may have to be taken to the ER.”

“What?” He frowns, looking down. He looks...pregnant. “Oh.” He says it, but he doesn’t understand. He puts his hand to it and feels Akira up, shoving his face into his neck and breathing him in, intoxicated. “Yeah. He looks good like that...”

Akira coos around the gag, head rolling deliriously through cloth.

“He likes it...” He murmurs, kissing Akira’s neck. “He likes being felt up by me. He liked all of it... He liked me...”

“Sir. I really must protest. He needs to be relieved at this point. You took it too far.”

Arsène is so stern and so bossy and Akechi is too comfortable, it’s irritating. He tries to think, but it’s an impossible task. “Mmm...ummm...?” He rolls his neck to the side so he can breathe without inhaling Akira’s scent. It’s so warm, so soothing. Sharp air tries to clear his head. “...He needs to be dejuiced.” How boring.

“It’s what I would recommend. His safety is still at risk.”

“Mmm...” Akechi sighs, groping both of Akira’s breasts with his palms and kneading in. He tosses the other plastic dome away. “Yes. Take him... I can’t do it... Just want him...”

Akira arches into the touch, sighing.

“Quickly,” Akechi says faintly, still rubbing himself all over Akira like a cat to catnip. “Before I lose my fucking mind...”

Arsène slips the receiver into his slacks and strides over purposefully. His movement is crisp and odd to Akechi, as drunk on Akira as he is. Everything feels odd beyond this safe bubble of just Akira and Akechi, Akechi and Akira. When Arsène bends over to pick Akira up into both arms, there’s still that bitter jealousy and anger that rises up inside of Akechi, like he wasn’t the one who just okayed it.

“It’s alright, Master,” Arsène says softly as he reaches his hand up to Akira’s bottom and slowly tugs out the dildo still planted inside. “I won’t do anything sexual to him. I’m only here to transport and aid. You can have him back to play with after he’s fully stabilized again.”

Akira jolts and wheezes. Tubes connect him to machines from both ends and he looks part machine. As they disengage, Akira looks oddly empty, without the tubes draping around him and thick girths plugging him up. Two hands from the ceiling come down to gently cup Akira by the head, holding him down as another slips beneath the bag, grabs the end of the Punisher, and slides it out from his throat.

Akira’s neck falls back, emptied and loose. A marionette cut from its strings. He has most definitely been properly punished to Akechi’s satisfaction.

His stomach is still huge. Twins. Pregnant with both his and Akechi’s children. His legs sprawl out oddly wide, too full and uncomfortable to sit right on his stuffed belly, teeming with Akechi’s fluids.

Arsène gives one final tug and the end of the dragon dildo pops free. Akira heaves, his voice returned without the Punisher lodged inside. “Go...ro...” He mumbles, hand coming up to push at Arsène’s chest. “No.” His voice is faint and weak.

“He’s still here. He’s just right over there... I must bring you to the clinic now though. Master, follow us at your leisure. I’m going ahead.”

With a softly moaning Akira in his arms, Arsène whisks him away through a side door.

“Goro...!” Akira cries weakly, shaking hand reaching out around his arm, toward Akechi. “No.”

The door shuts. The room goes quiet. Akira disappears.

Wiping the salty sweat from his brow, Akechi heaves out a long weary sigh. He hadn’t even noticed the red and black swirls beneath their feet had stopped, the recording of his voice silenced, the heat and red of the room emptied. It happened without him noticing. He lost his mind as much as Akira seems to have. It’s the oddest feeling.

He hears a loud guttural cry from the room Arsène and Akira just disappeared into — “GORO” — and he looks over, following him in.

He pushes his way into a side room. It’s a bit of a clinic, a bit of a storage room. Akechi hasn’t fully furnished the place yet, it’s white and sterile for the most part, the lights painfully bright and drained of any fun theatrics. Boring shit.

Here are stored the beginnings of misfit toys Akechi didn’t think he’d ever need again. Some are unfinished, some are boring, some he didn’t think he’d ever need again.

There’s a large creature on the exam table, pulled out from the shelving of misfit toys. It’s half plant, half vine-y tentacles, nearly the same size as Akira. Arsène is fighting to get Akira cunt-first over its center.

Even beneath the bag over his head, Akira is a ball of rage and fury, trying his best to claw his way to freedom, but Arsène is not human. There is no fight here. Akira is just a wet cat scrambling over a bath.

“Stop!” Akechi tsks, pushing forward and grabbing Akira out of Arsène’s arms. He rips the bag off over his head and tosses it to the ground. “It’s fine! Look at me. It’s just me. You’re safe. Stop fighting, you’re going to hurt yourself. I’m right here.”

Akira looks over Akechi’s face like he isn’t real for a moment before he decides he is. He throws himself over Akechi’s shoulder, wrapping himself tightly over his neck and heaving. His face is sweaty and hair sticks to it this way and that. “Goro,” he breathes into his ear. He stays there, weight completely sunken into him. He’s shaking.

“It’s alright,” Akechi whispers, weaving his fingers into the back of Akira’s hair and holding him tightly. “I was just catching my breath. You’re not in danger down here.”

Arsène sighs, running a tired finger over his perfect eyebrow as he watches the two of them wearily. “Apologies. I tried my best, but he did not want me, sir, he wanted you. Again.”

At that, Akechi feels a certain kind of warmth in his chest as he continues stroking Akira’s hair. “It’s alright,” he says softly, shifting Akira in his arms so he can wrap more of his warmth around Akira’s cold bare skin.

“I’ve prepared the Cum Seeker for him, sir. It’s ready to begin the dejuicing process. We only need him to sit on its core and it will do the rest.”

“No,” Akira murmurs in Akechi’s ear. “Goro. Don’t make me.”

Akechi stares at the creation on the exam table, trying to see it through new eyes. This is a project Akechi’s seen a million times over, worked on for hours upon hours, days upon days, and, by now, he’s grown quite bored of it. Some inventions just weren’t destined to be the main showstopping events. This one ended up being more functional than fun, and who needs that? So he tossed it.

But he supposes it is quite frightening if you didn’t piece it together part by part on your own. It does look like a living thing. The leaves on the outside writhe, sentient, and the pistil in the center is too long, too...wiggly to inspire confidence. It is for exactly what it looks like it might be for considering its name.

Akechi lets Akira cling to him for a moment longer, continuing to stroke his hair. “Akira. You have to go.”

“No,” Akira spits, pulling back to glare into Akechi’s eyes. His spark is nearly extinguished, nearly flickering out, and he looks half-crazed, not himself. “There is no way in hell I am going near that fucked up thing. It looks like a monster. What even is it?”

“It’s...a medical device of sorts. It will help you.”

“Help me with what?!” He protests, eyes wide and nearing hysteria. His hair sticks to his face as he spits, rabid, “Goro, I’m perfectly fine! I just want to go home. Just let me go home now. I’ve been good. I’ve done what you wanted. Haven’t you had enough by now?”

Akechi stares into Akira’s uncomprehending eyes and he hesitates again, feeling suddenly very awkward and uncomfortable. “Akira. I don’t mean to alarm you, but...if I sent you home now, Yoshizawa would pass out with fright.”

“I’m not going to tell her!” Akira says desperately. “I’m just going to go home, lay down, and sleep this night away. And I swear, in the morning, Goro, we... I’ll just...” He shakes his head quickly. “I don’t know. We can just pretend none of this ever happened, okay? It’s just some really fucked up dream. But I won’t say a word to anyone at all, ever, I swear. You’re still Goro. I still love you. Just let me go.”

“...I didn’t mean... No.” Akechi rubs a finger over his eyebrow and cringes. “That’s not what I meant. Look down, Akira. Look at what I’ve done to your stomach.”

Akira stares at Akechi for a moment more, stiff and unwilling. Then, on a deep breath in, he looks down. His hands clamp down hard on Akechi’s shoulders as he draws in a wheezing winded breath. “What the — What the FUCK.” He lifts his arms like he doesn’t want to get anywhere near the bulge.

Akechi bites at his bottom lip, watching Akira’s face warily. “...I know. I know. I went a little overboard this time.”

“Goro, what the FUCK IS THIS?! What did you DO TO ME?!”

“I know, I’m sorry.”

“Oh...fuck, it hurts.” He leans over, stomach bulging down with gravity. His knees buckle until it’s mostly just Akechi holding him up. “I...what do we do? What is this?” A large flush of fluids gushes down the insides of his legs, but his stomach looks exactly the same size. “Oh my god... Am I fucking dying? Is this what Arsène meant by needing medical help? This can’t be natural!!”

“It’s just cum! It’s fine! See?” He reaches down and pushes a finger into Akira’s cunt, opening the walls, watching as more globs out. He massages gently, feeling the warmth ooze all over his hand.

“Unnnngh!” Akira wheezes, head cracking back as he stares wide-eyed and unseeing into the ceiling. “GORO.”

“Sorry!” He pulls his hands back with a loud shluck! “We just...need to dejuice you a bit. It’s a bit difficult because...well, it’s in your body. But, I made something we can use for that.” He gestures his hand to the writhing plant. “It’s easier than doing it by hand and much more effective.”

Akira’s eyes go wide and horrified. “There-there has to be another way. Something that doesn’t look like that.” His eyes fly over to Akechi in desperation. “Fine. You can use your fingers to get it out. I won’t protest. Just don’t use that thing!”

“Akira, I’m sorry...” He keeps his hold around Akira’s waist and walks Akira backward, approaching the table. “It’s not going to hurt. It will feel really good.”

Akira’s weak. He’s overwhelmed. He’s in shock. He stumbles along with Akechi toward the Cum Seeker because there’s nowhere else to go being a prisoner as he is. Arsène waits patiently behind them, arms folded neatly behind his back as he supervises. Like Akira could outrun him.

But then Akira chances a look behind him and immediately draws in sharp breath. “No.” Akira breathes, trying to squirm away. He fights even Akechi. “I can’t do this! It’s disgusting! I can’t even look at it. I want to fucking throw up. And you want me near it?? I hate it! I hate this!”

“Akira. Calm down.”

“What’s it going to do, Goro? What’s it going to do to me?! Will it have to touch me? Because I don’t want that! I haven’t wanted any of this!! And you keep pushing me. And pushing me. And putting things in my body and making me eat weird things and I’m terrified!! I can’t do this anymore. I CAN’T DO THIS. I NEED TO GET OUT OF HERE.”

“Sir. I must warn you. Master Akira’s body’s stress levels are rising at a very steep ascent. His blood pressure is reaching dangerous levels. It’s very unlike him. He’s losing it.”

“Fuck. You think it’s still the fluids? It’s just too much for him?”

“I think that has a large role in this, yes. We can handle the rest much better if he’s physically stable.”

“Goddammit, Akira. You’re such a fucking pain.” Akechi latches onto Akira’s wrist while he bends down and snatches up the black bag from the ground. In one swift movement, he swoops it up and over, bagging Akira by the head again. “I guess I have to treat you like a wild fucking animal then.”

Akira growls, nearly tumbling over backwards, hand flying out to graze the wall. Akechi catches him before he’s down but tightens his hold around the bottom of the cloth bag.

“Don’t look,” he whispers in Akira’s ear, tugging him in by the neck to stop him. “Don’t look then. If you can’t see what it’s doing, then you can’t be grossed out, right? I’ll be right here through the whole process. I won’t let you go, okay? It won’t hurt, I promise. It will feel nice. Warm...”

“Goro,” Akira breathes, voice tight. His back and neck bend backward, into the bag. He breathes heavily, the cloth drawing in over the impression of his mouth and shunting out with each breath. “I can’t take anymore... I can’t do this.. Please let me go. Please, Goro...” He sobs.

“Shhh, shhh... We need to get your stomach back to normal first and then we’ll get out of here, okay? Almost done. Then, you can rest. Sink into it. I promise you’ll be okay...” He gently guides Akira to the exam table where the Cum Seeker awaits. He grabs Akira by both of his hips and shifts his pelvis back so that he opens up toward the plant’s writhing vines. It’s noisy, leaves crinkling and vines slurping.

“What is it...?” Akira’s voice breaks as he clings to Akechi’s forearms with both hands. “What the fuck is it?”

“Just...an experiment of mine. It isn’t really alive, not like it appears. Think of it more like Arsène than us, though much simpler. It just seeks cum...and eats it.”

“Wha —”

With a wet squishing noise, the pistil unwraps itself and begins seeking. It dives forward, on a mission, burrowing its entire self into Akira’s cunt without warning.

Akira cries out long and loud, his head falling back. Akechi still has his hand around the back of the bag and he tugs it in slightly, catching Akira and keeping him from falling. Watches as Akira’s grip goes slack in shock and he starts slipping off Akechi’s shoulders.

The pistil roots itself into his cunt and begins to reel him in closer by it, latching into his walls and claiming him.

“AH!” Akira screams, his legs now drawn up onto the edge of the exam table by the plant’s will alone. His hands come out again, white knuckling Akechi’s arms and hands, his shirt, anything he can cling to as he tears and writhes. His feet kick in the air on either side of Akechi. His engagement ring catches Akechi’s hair more than once and Arsène has to come over to twine Akechi’s hair to the other side, laying it neatly over his shoulder, out of the way. “GAH!! GORO!! IT HAS ME!!”

“Shhhhh...shh.... You’re okay. I’ve got you,” Akechi says softly, staring down at the strange bulge pushing out from inside Akira’s already hugely bloated stomach. Wow. That is deep. “Arsène. Dim the lights, will you? Soften them. It’s so bright in here...”

“Goro,” Akira weeps. “Goro, Goro, GORO...”

The lights soften to nearly nothing. There’s only the soft glow coming from the plant. It lights up the inside of Akira’s womb as it travels within, ingesting what it was created to.

“It won’t hurt you,” Akechi whispers to Akira as he tugs a little more to tilt Akira’s neck back further. Akira gives an odd wheezing hiccup. “It’s for pleasure, remember? Feel it. Actually feel it. As it dives, it releases a poison. That’s the heat you feel. Warm, comforting heat. Deep, deep inside you.”

Akira mumbles something, but it doesn’t sound like real words. His body bucks, jutting out his large belly.

The long plant vines grow from the center and begin curling around Akira, drawing not just his cunt into itself, but it wants his whole body. They consume his thighs, travel down his legs, and capture his feet. They twist over his core and his arms, wrapping his hands within their hold tightly. And they don’t stop there. They wrap around Akira’s neck, crawling all over the bag, holding it in place. They wrap and draw him into itself. Akechi lets go. Gives Akira to it. It ties him up tight like a spider spinning its prey, zips him up so his arms and legs are secured at his sides, so he’s more its than his. And then it has him to bend and manipulate as it pleases, finding the best angles so it can work most efficiently.

Akira cries out, rabid, but he’s only brought deeper into the thing, thighs pressed to his bloated belly and body angled backward so he’s laying over it.

“Shh, shh...” Akechi whispers, giving a small scoot backward to watch as Akira’s cunt is firmly secured right in the center. It grinds him on and he screams, feet jolting. The vines tilt him backward so Akechi gets to see as the wet glowing pistil slides in and up Akira’s cunt, as it turns and twists, spiraling its large knotted base in Akira’s entrance from the outside in. It’s like a dance, but inside his body.

Akira weeps, violently feeling his body, being in his body, but not being able to control a centimeter of it. Milky white liquid oozes from his hole, what the Cum Seeker sloppily dribbles out from its own mouth as it eats up the extraneous contents in Akira’s body. The more it eats, the more it glows, healthy and proud. Akira’s lower pelvis and stomach shines golden until its completely covered with vines. The leaves rise up and form all around him, closing off his entire body from the world, leaving only his head out in the open. That is, if you could see him through the bag.

The vines slowly climb up his jaw and pierce through the cloth over his mouth. What happens next Akechi can’t see, but Akira’s weeping cuts off with a hearty guttural choke. And he doesn’t cry again. The leaves pulse more vigorously around him, sucking and bouncing in and out at his body.

“I was just thinking,” Akechi says casually to Arsène as he continues watching. He runs his fingertip over his bottom lip idly. “We never intended to use this creation.”

“No,” Arsène says.

“Is it safe, do you think?” He narrows his eyes at it. He can’t see, but he thinks of the bulb forcing its way into Akira’s cunt as he’s twisted back like a prisoner. His back is so bowed that his feet are beginning to poke out from the front of the leaves’ openings at the top. Akechi’s never seen him bend that way before. He’s a rainbow of an arch. “We never ran it through any testing.”

“I do believe it’s technically safe, sir. ...Though it seems a little aggressive.”

“Right? I wasn’t expecting it to just fucking take him from me. And now it’s got him fully consumed... I was thinking it must be my DNA in it. It wants him so badly, it forgets all the usual safety protocols put in place. I should’ve adjusted for aggression... Shit. Oh well. Next time.”

Akira moans pathetically in the background, muffled and full.

“I would recommend that. For now, though, I should mention that Master Akira is officially at panic attack levels. His mind is... Well. His cognitive ability is technically recovered, but I’m not sure how good that is for the task at hand... The readings are a bit odd. He is feeling pleasure, but his mind is quite scrambled. The bag did help, but not enough. He needs more.”

“Fuck.” Akechi walks around the exam table and looks down into Akira’s face, the only thing left not consumed. It’s still locked within the black bag and, knowing Arsène and his standards, it’s probably pitch black in there.

Akechi runs a soft finger over his wide open lips through the cloth and watches as Akira jerks, shuddering. The bag is still mostly there, besides the tear and the odd thick plant vine plunged down inside, pulsing enthusiastically.

“Shh,” Akechi whispers, sight hazy and filled with love. “It’s nearly over. And then we’ll bring you back up to my room and you can sleep while I play with you, Akira. Sleep so soundly after all of this...”

“Aaa-ack,” he rasps, the indent of his features moving beneath the cloth. “Aaaghh—gggkk!!”

“I’ll take you,” Akechi whispers softly, still running his fingers in hypnotic circles. “I’ll take you over my bed. Refill you with what you’ve lost tonight. Feels good, doesn’t it? Being so deeply penetrated like this. The end of its pistil is thin and flexible so you won’t feel pain as it travels up your body. But you’ll never be as deeply penetrated as this...not naturally, anyway. So lucky...”

Akira groans low and loud and Akechi isn’t sure if it’s his body that bucks violently or the plant.

“Frightening, isn’t it...? Experiencing such intense pleasure. I told you, didn’t I? That I could make you feel what no one else can. I can take you in ways you’ve never been before. Yoshizawa...well, I hate to admit it, but you were right, you know. She was lovely today, her and Kasumi both. I can see why you like her, I can.” He reaches down and places his hand gently over Akira’s ankle, the only other part of his body still visible as he’s plundered. He feels at the golden chain he placed there and he twists it around his finger. It’s slimy and slick. “But you already love me. With me, Akira, it can be easy. Easy for both of us. Our lives would change so much and so little if you just accept me in your heart. And with this...this machine...all your needs can be met. I can handle your emotional needs. I can handle your sexual needs. That’s where I was lacking before, right? That was your only concern. But now, things are different. Can’t you see? I’ve filled in the empty spaces I couldn’t before. I can make you come so hard, so much, whenever you want, however you want. Just ask and I’ll deliver. Akira...I’ve become perfect for you.”

“Nnnn,” Akira whimpers, throwing his neck back. The movement pulls at the bottom of the bag, revealing something black and vibrant pink beneath.

“Oh,” Akechi says gently, spotting the collar. “You’re baring your neck to me. Do you want me to press it? Help you forget?” He circles his finger around the bright pink heart before pressing down.

Akira’s muffled cries are absolutely intoxicating. The way his head falls back, stiff. The way the leaves around him shudder. His feet point and stay that way.

“Tell me you love this.”

“UUUNNNHHHH.”

Akechi shocks him. And the vine slips out for Akira’s mouth to drop in ecstasy. “Oh, god! Oh, Goro! It’s so good.” His voice is wrecked.

“Yeah?” He’s pleasantly surprised. “But do you love it?”

“More! Give me more!”

Akechi laughs softly, using one hand to brush Akira’s face through the bag. It’s funny how he begs so ferociously, but he’s so completely vulnerable. No movement, no sight, no scent, muffled hearing. “All these mixed signals... I thought you didn’t like the shocking?”

“Mmm. Just...just do it. Please! I changed my mind. I’ll fucking perish if you don’t. It’s so good...”

Akechi smiles. “Mixed signals, Akira. Not too long ago you were promising me you’d never ask for it. But I knew you’d come around and I think now you could do me one better. Beg, Akira. And tell me you love my cock.”

He doesn’t even fight it. Doesn’t even try. “Yesyesyesyesyesyes, want your cock. Love your cock so much. Shock me. Shock me!”

“Such a whore, aren’t you? Here’s your reward.” He zaps him again and Akira goes taut, inhaling bliss. “Now say you love me for another taste, Akira...”

His bright red lips, wet and swollen from tonight’s abuse, open and close frantically, unable to form words. “Mmmloove. Mmmlove you. Love you.” His voice is rough. His brain sounds fried.

Shock.

Akira goes numb. His head sinks sideways with a huge delirious smile on his face. Akechi can see it clearly even through the cloth, that’s how wide it is. This time, it takes him a while to recover before he begins babbling again. “....Mmmmm, mmm... Goro... Please. More. More. Love your cock. Love you.”

Zap.

“Auuggghh!! Aaaahhh... More! More for me. Goro, give it to me... Love it...I love it.”

“Love what, Akira? Remember now, to tell me what it is you love.”

“Your mouth! I love when you pull my head back and spit into my mouth. I love when you put a bag over my head and handle me like your whore. I love when you shock me and I can’t move, but I can feel your touch on me, like fire...making me want your cock so bad. Goro.”

Zap. Zap. Zap. Zaaaaap.

Akira writhes in ecstasy. He goes erect for a long, satisfying time, his neck thrown back over the top of the plant, where the tops of the leaves converge and hold his head high.

Akechi watches with a glazed over smile. Watches Akira bathe in the erotic electrical current. Watches as Akira’s used body is met by its match. It sucks and sucks at him and Akira was so frightened earlier, but now he’s so pleased, so removed and far into pleasure that he’s happy.

If Akira’s happy, so is Akechi. He pets his face. “I made all these things, Akira...even this flower replica, so that you could be completely bathed in their attention. So they could handle you in the most intimate ways that make you feel what no one else in the entire world could ever feel. Only I can give this to you, Akira. Remember that.”

Akira weeps, smile still on his face. The black cloth grows darker around his eyes.

“Does that make you sad, Akira?”

“Neuehrhgh...”

“Akira.” Akechi strokes his plump bottom lip, pressing a kiss to it. “Does it make you feel pleasure? The best sort of pleasure?”

“So good. So good! Goro... Goro...”

With a burst of light, the plant finishes inside Akira and he chokes, body jolting like he’s riding another current again. The petals open wide, steam and heat releasing in a thick gusty wave. It reveals Akira within. The vines have taken over his body, squeezing him tight all over, writhing and leeching off him.

“AhhhHHH. AHHHH...AHHHH!!!!”

Heaven. As he strokes Akira’s head, Akechi runs his other finger down the opening of Akira’s mouth, feeling the hot air of all he’s feeling being pressed out of his core. Akechi then slips his hand down Akira’s hot wet chin, his throat, over the vines as they wrap him tightly and force themselves inside him. He slides his hand down Akira’s abdomen and his cock, that’s being wrapped by multiple thin vines, twisting around in an odd whirlpool looking design, sucking his shaft round and round. The tip of one slips in and out of Akira’s slit, diving in, pleasuring his cock from the inside out. Beautiful. So taken care of from all ends. Who knows for how long it’s been doing this privately, beyond Akechi’s view and knowledge, but he’s so glad it has. Akechi feels up Akira’s thigh, his shin, and then...down to his ankle.

The plant allows Akechi passage — he’s its creator, after all — as long as it’s still allowed to thrash around its prize, it’s happy. Akechi runs his hand along the golden chain around Akira’s ankle with soft care. He strokes it tenderly, trying to dive deep inside himself to see just where he stands with all of this.

Akira’s crying out, body jerking like it’s riding a wave. Is it pleasure? Is it agony? Both?

Akechi murmurs, still running his palm over Akira’s ankle, “I’ll never understand it, I don’t think. People. You. Me. Why we do the things we do. I know nothing can ever be perfect, but what kind of life are you and I living out there? The way I see it, it’s you, living a fairytale. And me...a nightmare. But right now, would you think that at all? Where do you stand, Akira, in this exact moment? Are we changing your destiny? Or not?” He looks up into the ring on Akira’s finger, as Akira’s hands clench and reach. There’s nothing but the plant to hold onto. No part of him touches the ground. So many vines wrap all around and into him that it looks like Akira’s being held up by wires of a machine. So many messy lines weaving around and out, tangling around him, too heavy to move or breathe.

Akechi stares at the ring for a moment longer. Listens to Akira beg and plead wetly, sob as he comes again for a fucking plant.

“Kill it,” Akechi says, pushing himself off the wall.

Arsène calmly looks up from watching Akira writhe. “...Sir?”

“Akira’s fine now. The thing’s done its job. Get rid of it.”

“You spent sixty-seven hours on the Cum Seeker, sir. That’s —”

“Hardly anything. I don’t want to look at it anymore. It disgusts Akira, so it disgusts me. It was made for him and his pleasure and if he doesn’t like it, then neither do I. Destroy it. You said you liked doing that.”

Arsène hesitates for a short moment before giving a soft bow. “If Master Akira is displeased, aren’t we all? It will be done.”

All at once, the vines release Akira and he falls backwards over the exam table with a guttural groan. His limbs sprawl, limp and wet, circular red marks twisting up each of his body parts, even his soft cock. He’s just a very pale and battered body with a bag on his head, legs and arms falling over the sides of the edges. He doesn’t even reach up to take the bag off. Not even to check just how open his cunt is for viewing on the exam table. And it is very, very open. A doctor should could come in and observe it.

Akechi steps forward and carefully removes the bag.

A flash of silver. A soft roll of the eyes. It takes a while for Akira to even focus on anything, but, when he does, Akira stares up at Akechi, resigned and exhausted. He’s clearly so past overwhelmed that his body is in emergency mode and lies there, dormant and slow.

He just came, so his mind is no longer rambling on with the height of his arousal, gone crazy from the surplus of sex hormones stuffed in his stomach. That’s all gone now. All that’s left is Akira and this dungeon. Akira and the slop and fluids covering him.

Akechi stares back at him. Swallows hard. He isn’t sure what he should be feeling. It probably shouldn’t be only lust. Akira looks very vulnerable spread out over the cold metal exam table like that.

“Do you feel better?” He asks cordially. He feels oddly formal suddenly.

Akira begins to shiver like he’s out in the cold. “Goro.”

“Hmm. You’re frightened, aren’t you? I suppose it was quite a lot to go through all at once. But...you realize that I’m still me, right? I didn’t change into someone else. This is who I am, Akira. It’s who I’ve always been. It’s just finally the truth. ...Do you not like it?”

Akira swallows hard. He shivers harder.

Akechi stares back. He feels like he’s five years old again, stupid and worthless and having no idea how to comfort Akira, no idea how to even talk to him.

Akechi hesitates, looking over Akira’s body. At the red splashed angrily over his usual porcelain white. At the cum and the fluids and... He did quite a number on him, more than even last time. He didn’t mean to. He thought he had control over himself, but there never is whenever Akira’s involved, is there?

“...Come here,” Akechi whispers, gathering Akira up in his arms and lifting him. It is not as effortless as Arsène makes it seem, but Akechi is determined to make it work. Arsène comes in with a light red blanket, wrapping it over Akira’s shoulders, who rests his head into Akechi’s neck wearily.

“...Why...?” He breathes, voice petal soft. Warm wetness dots Akechi’s skin and slides down, cold. He sounds exhausted. “Why are you doing this...?”

“...I... You were the one pressing the button, remember? I didn’t force you to do that. It made you happy. You wanted my cum.”

Akira sighs heavily, but he’s too expended to argue. “...Something about this place... It feels like...all these doors. The deeper inside I go, the more I lose a layer of myself... Did you do that? What am I saying...? You can do anything. You dream it up and, suddenly, it’s reality. I always knew you could do the impossible, but...this? Even this...?”

Arsène holds a candle holder overhead so the staircase remains lit and the shadows are burned away as Akechi carries Akira slowly upstairs. “Did the Cum Seeker hurt you...? We’ll get rid of it, alright? It won’t touch you again. You’ll never even have to look at it again.”

Akira shakes his head delicately. “...No. It didn’t hurt. It was...overwhelming, but...but there wasn’t pain... I just... Goro. What are you going to do?”

Akechi drops Akira down onto the side of his bed and the blanket falls off his shoulders. He looks down at him. “What do you mean? Right now?” He presses his lips together tightly and then decides to just be honest. “First, I’m going to fuck you on my bed. Then, when I’m done, I’m going to get Arsène’s paralytic cum, inject you with it, and hypnotize you so you’ll forget all this.”

A fresh set of tears pours over Akira’s eyes, but he keeps them open, staring straight at Akechi. Keeps his face expressionless. “...Don’t,” he whispers.

“To which part?”

“All of it. But, Goro. I really really don’t want to forget. Please don’t make me forget. I know now, I know how much pain you’re in. I’m so sorry. I didn’t see! I didn’t know, I swear I didn’t, but please... Please, I can’t do anything to fix it if you tear it right out of my head. If I’m living in blissful ignorance, how is that bliss at all...?”

Akechi hesitates. “I’m not tearing it out...exactly. I’m shoving it back. It’s still there. You remembered tonight, didn’t you? I just thought...it’d be more...more pleasant. If... If...” He’s fading. He swallows hard. Readjusts his shirt collar. “If you didn’t have to remember what I did to you during the night...”

Akira stares up from the side of the bed, his wet eyes wide and so sweet. So beautiful. Lit so gently, like the moon. He reaches up with shaky hands, placing them to either side of Akechi’s face. “Why are you doing this to yourself?” He whispers, another wave of tears falling to their feet. “Why are you torturing yourself with me?”

Akechi just stares. He hadn’t thought of it that way. How could he ever torture himself with someone like Akira? Akira’s his light, his love, his hope. He’s everything good in his life. When he’s gone, he takes the goodness with him. Torture? No.

Akechi reaches up and touches the tips of his fingers to Akira’s hand. And he wants to feel warmth and connection, but, for the first time in a long time, he doesn’t feel anything between them at all.

Akira sniffs wetly. Doesn’t remove his hands. He closes his eyes tightly. “...You used to do it in the bathroom. I just realized that, recently. I didn’t know when you were doing it. I’d see blood sometimes. And I thought... I don’t know what I thought. Maybe you just sucked at shaving. I don’t know. But you were hiding it all from me. You wanted to keep me in the dark about it all. I hated that...”

“No, Akira,” Akechi whispers, holding onto his hand tightly and pressing it to his cheek. He leans in and kisses Akira’s fingers. They’re salty, with cum. “It was me in the darkness. I wanted you far away, in the light...”

Akira sobs. “God!” He explodes. “Don’t do this again! Don’t force me away while you self implode. I can’t take it. Don’t try to kill yourself again...with me. Not ever again...but especially not with me.”

Akechi sighs out long and low. He presses another forceful kiss to Akira’s hand and breathes him in. “Don’t worry, you won’t remember.”

He pushes Akira down to the bed, catching his mouth with his. He uses his body to force Akira beneath him, to lay him out long and helpless.

Akira makes a soft tortured sound deep in his throat. But he doesn’t force Akechi away.

He tastes like cum. Their cum. And Akechi is insatiable. He kisses him roughly. Kisses him like his life depends on it, like Akira’s his air. Like he’ll die right here, right now, if Akira stops him. He thinks he probably will.

Akira hardly fights. It doesn’t make any sense why he doesn’t. He shifts his face every once in a while, makes an odd sharp gasp occasionally, but he doesn’t push him away. It’s an odd kiss. It isn’t with the same fever that they kissed with in the study. It’s quiet. And it makes Akechi sad for some reason. Why does it taste so much like defeat? It reminds him of the day his mother died. It makes no sense why it would, but the feeling builds and builds until Akechi has to pull back.

He pants, staring down into Akira’s quiet calm face. Akira watches him evenly.

“You really do love me,” Akira whispers softly, eyes going sorrowful. “Don’t you...?”

Akechi’s face twists. The ring is golden and bright in his peripheral. He wants to rip it off, but with the way Akira’s looking at him like this... Tender. Hurt. It doesn’t make any sense.

Yes! He loves Akira! He wants to ruin their stupid wedding! So give him rage. Give him anger. Give him horror. Those are his old friends. He doesn’t know what to do with the way Akira’s looking at him now. He tries to call up violence, but it doesn’t come. He wishes it would come from either one of them, so he can rip and tear into it. It never comes.

He begins to sob.

Akechi can’t imagine why, but Akira seems to have been waiting for it. He gently runs his hands over Akechi’s face, soothing him, watching him.

“I can’t —” Akechi is drowning. “I can’t —” The world is going down and taking him with it. “Arsène!”

Arsène steps in and hands over a syringe. Akechi grabs at it quickly and unceremoniously turns Akira’s bottom half over, giving him access to his cunt. Akira’s legs twist over Akechi’s lap.

“Goro!” Akira breathes urgently, trying to turn back, but he’s exhausted. Akechi has more strength. His eyes are wide and silver as he clings tightly to the wrist Akechi holds the filled syringe with. “Please don’t! I can’t do anything if you fuck with my memory! I truly don’t remember anything out there. I’m helpless! And so are you!”

Akechi knows. He’s always so helpless.

With feeling, Akechi shoves the syringe up Akira’s body, ignoring the sharp gasp and the way Akira falls face-first into the bed, back arching for it. And he injects it. Watches the plunger depress all Arsène’s fluids into Akira’s body. Tosses it away.

It’s quiet between the two of them.

Akira pants into Akechi’s pillow, hands on his thighs. “It’s spreading,” he whispers, fingers digging into his skin so harshly that it pulls his skin back, parts his cunt wider. “I can feel it.”

Akechi’s shoulders heave and he wipes a hand over his face. “Yeah.”

“...Goro.” His breath catches. “...I’m scared.”

“No. Don’t be.” He falls into bed beside Akira, drawing his bangs back so he can see his big wide eyes staring back. “...I know this seems fucked up and you probably think I’m fucked up, but I swear I’m still thinking rationally and I’m going to take care of you, okay? I promise. In this space together...and out of it. I never want to hurt you, I want what’s best for you, I do. I know you’ve chosen your Sumi. I know that. And I...I’ll stop this. I will. I just...I didn’t even mean to start it. I’m sorry about all of this, Akira. I am. But... But I’ve been so lonely. And I...” He presses a hand over his face and feels every terrible emotion that he thought was dead inside him rush to the surface. Akira stares unblinkingly at him. Just stares, seeing everything. Akechi bites at his lip but a strange breath shudders out of him anyway, oddly wobbly. “...I’m so sorry. I can’t control myself anymore. I hate myself so much I don’t know what to do. Everyday is so miserable. I can’t take it anymore. I can’t. And this is my only reprieve. I’m sorry. I can’t stand watching you move further and further away from me. Everyday is worse and it feels like the only cure is you. I don’t know what to do. I don’t know what to do...”

Tears continue down Akira’s face as he watches Akechi with deep hurt. “I’m not scared...for me,” he whispers.

Akechi shudders. “I’m sorry.”

“Goro,” Akira slurs. He grabs Akechi by the wrist but the movement is shaky and his grip is shit. “Goro. Please. ...Listen...to me... It’s...ugh, it’s important...” He takes in a deep breath, but his vision is going funny. “To...tomorrow... Please. You...”

Akechi sniffs and shoves his face into Akira’s neck, clinging tightly to him.

“You... But I... But... I.... Su...mi...” His hand falls off Akechi’s face and slides to the sheets. His mouth drops, lax, and he stares, dead eyed, up at the ceiling.

Akechi sniffs wetly, sitting up. His head is pounding. And Akira is gone. Akechi is alone. And his last words were for his fiance.

Akechi cries for a full few minutes and he can’t stop. And then, still crying, he gets up, grabs a toy from the drawer, turns Akira’s limp body over onto his stomach, and presses a small round toy inside. It looks like a small fish, mouth and all. He slowly and attentively fingers it deeper in.

“You like your prostate being played with, I know that much. And I know Yoshizawa doesn’t play with it for you,” he says, voice rough from tears. “Fucking shame... So I made you something to keep. You can use it at home, too, when you find it inside you after you wake up. It’s kinda like that stupid plant, only more palatable, I suppose. When it smells your arousal, it’ll begin seeking out your prostate. Sucks on it from alternating angles. It should feel good. It’s going to inject something to help sensitize it, so don’t be alarmed if you feel a little nip. It’ll be worth it. It travels better though, if you’re not all...twisted up, so...” He kneels over Akira and pulls his legs straight out over the bed. Does the same for his arms so he’s starfished. He looks nice like that, sprawled on his face, defeated. “I hope you enjoy it...”

Akechi indulges for a while longer as he thinks.

He doesn’t like it. Doesn’t like how much he just gave away, how stupidly vulnerable he was, even if it was to Akira. Maybe especially because it was to Akira. Those were his private secrets and they’re so big that erasing it doesn’t feel like enough. He needs to erase himself too. He just wasn’t ready...

With a shaky inhale, he presses his hands over his face. Takes a deep breath. Drags them away. Then, he grabs the syringe, tosses his head back, and deposits the remaining droplets onto his tongue.

Even at such small amounts, Akechi feels it immediately. It’s warm and hot, flooding out from his mouth and crawling down his veins.

He meant to get himself prepared into bed, meant to slip on the headset for Akira, but there isn’t even enough time to lay down. He collapses in a heap over Akira, the back of his head hitting Akira’s. His body plastering over him. He sprawls out and can’t move. Can’t even look away from the one spot his eyes are fixed on — the tip of Akira’s shoulder. He can feel the vibration of the toy inside Akira’s body, working dutifully away. At least Akira gets to feel good.

A soft sigh above him. Hands are on him and Akechi is gently rolled to the side to reveal Akira. Arsène lifts Akira’s head, secures the headset in place, and then releases his head back down. The muffled distant recording of Akechi’s voice fills the air.

“Master,” Arsène says gently. “I’m proud of you. It’s healthy to express yourself, even if it’s painful. If only you told him when he could remember it all...but this is a start.”

Akechi doesn’t feel like it’s very excellent at all, but what does he know? He can’t even move right now.

With a gentle hand, Arsène straightens Akechi out of his awkward position, setting his head inches from Akira’s. He can feel Akira’s warm breath against his cheek, a great comfort.

It’s touching really, what a robot can learn to do. But Arsène has been special for a very long time. Usually, Akechi doesn’t have the patience for his creations — they’re disgusting, they’re not the best he can do, there are so many flaws, so many errors, so many other ways he could’ve done them and they’re not right. Even if the world praises them, even they serve their purpose, they usually just end up pissing him off. The temperament of an artist, Akira once said, even though Akechi wonders if it’s more the reflection of himself as an artist instead: worthless.

But Arsène has always been the exception to this rule. He’s always been the best thing Akechi’s ever made. Akechi sometimes wonders if Arsène made himself for the last half of it. That would explain it.

It doesn’t matter. The night’s over. Akechi thinks that’ll be the end of it, that Arsène will leave them alone like this until morning. He just wants to wallow, half brain dead with his butler’s cum debilitating him like this.

But hands grip into his hips and his bottom half is shifted off the blankets. He feels his legs and waist pulling over the crisp sheets, his foot being tugged at.

Arsène draws Akechi’s bottom half into his lap, where he’s seated next to the bed in a rocking chair. Softly, like soothing an unruly baby, Arsène strokes Akechi’s naked hip.

Akechi is surprised. This is unlike Arsène.

Arsène gently plays Akechi’s genitals like an instrument, like he’s precious to him. Tickling over his cock, rolling his balls in between his hands. Long trickster fingers slip into Akechi’s body and, softly, he begins to manipulate his walls, drawing long deep lines down the inside of his body. His other hand wraps around Akechi’s cock and gives him torturous friction as Akechi begins to leak.

“There, there,” Arsène soothes gently. “Master, it’s alright. It’s okay.”

Akechi isn’t sure how to feel about this, about Arsène taking such grand liberties in a very vulnerable time when he cannot resist. But...he supposes it doesn’t matter. He lets it happen.

“You deserve pleasure too...”

Fingers slide out and Arsène slips his cock into Akechi’s hole. He draws Akechi off the sheets so his arms and face drag across the cloth and then he begins bobbing him over the bed. Akechi’s vision jerks back and forth, but he cannot move. Climax is coming, but he can’t writhe and make a fuss. And, as Arsène comes inside of him with a soft moan, Akechi’s head fuzzes up more. Ecstasy. So this is what it feels like. His face remains planted into cloth. He can’t breathe right. It’s so hot.

“It’s alright, Master...” Arsène shifts and changes the angle, roughly penetrating him again. His long sharp nails plant on either side of Akechi’s head as he fucks him from above, forcefully delivering pleasure.

Robots don’t have a refractory period. Akechi did not think about that when he made him and he’s not sure if he’s thankful or not. Arsène penetrates Akechi all night long.

Usually, the effects of Arsène’s paralytic cum only last a few hours at most but, continually reinjected, Akechi is forced under, and under, and under...

When morning arrives, Akechi’s still under as Arsène continues to gently work on him.

The bed shifts. Akira’s awake. Akechi can do nothing and he finds he does not care to.

“I...I still remember. I remember everything,” Akira murmurs, sounding lost. “It didn’t work.” A beat. “...Is he alright?”

“Just paralyzed. Normally, he’d want me to keep you under, but I’ve decided to work on him for the morning. It doesn’t matter either way; you won’t remember soon enough. When the sun rises and hits your retinas, you’ll feel faint. Your eyes will roll into the back of your head and your mind will betray itself in order to follow our Master’s command. You won’t recall the night before because he told you not to. And, when you wake, I’ll let you on your merry way, telling you that you simply overslept. You will believe it, remnants of his cum still deep inside you, you none the wiser.”

“How convenient,” Akira whispers harshly. “But I’m not going to listen. I won’t do it. He isn’t my master.”

“Hm. Perhaps you think that now... But you follow his instructions so willingly already, don’t you? Almost like that’s all you’ve ever known... You’re so susceptible to it all...more than we predicted, more than we even hoped. If you don’t realize it now, you will soon enough; he’s always trying new things on you. You know how he is: a curious mind...and you’re his favorite subject, his muse, if you will. Soon enough, Master Akira. When the time is right. You’ll be glad to be his. I promise.”

“Sounds like you’re the one hypnotized and brainwashed.”

“Hmmm... I assume you remember, for now, how you sounded only last night? Turns out you’re quite the fan of erotic electrostimulation. Quite the deviant, after all. Well. The master and I already knew this, I only wonder what your fiance would think if she knew what you really craved?”

Akira is quiet for a long while. “...I...I don’t. I don’t like it.”

“Hmm.”

Akira goes quiet again, the only sound in the air between all of them is the soft rhythmic squelch of Akechi’s insides getting played with. Divine.

“...Why are you doing that to him...?”

Arsène says simply, “he likes it”. Squelching and squelching away.

Just past noon, Akechi wakes to the birds chirping, to his genitals throbbing, and to Akira sprawled out beside him, hogtied and somehow deep in paralysis again, gag tied tightly over his mouth. He’s completely still. It looks like a kidnapping scene. Akira’s nipples are swollen with perfectly circular dark pink rims around each one. His body has what looks like rope burns all over. His eyes are open, but barely, gazing on a fixed point on the ceiling above. His cock is erect, dripping all over his belly. And there’s a large vigorous toy jammed up his hole, buzzing loudly away. It isn’t the little prostate seeker and it’s covered in cum. Odd.

Groggily, Akechi pulls himself up into a seated position, staring out the open door of his bedroom and then gazing around the quiet room. Arsène is nowhere to be seen, but there’s a tray of breakfast foods on the nightstand with a glass of water and a single freshly cut flower. A twirl of steam rises up from a cup of coffee right beside it that smells lovely and inviting.

But Akira looks even more delectable... Akechi turns his gaze down at him and stares at him drooling around his gag, onto his lower pelvis. He should return him. It feels a bit like wanting to keep a library book instead of returning it to the library. Yoshizawa is probably more than a little concerned by now and the longer Akechi keeps him, the higher the risk. He knows that, but...

“Thank you, Arsène, for the meal,” he says quietly and he knows Arsène has heard.

His eyes stay fixed on Akira’s dull face as he climbs on top of him, pulls out the toy that prepared him, and crams himself mercilessly inside. He leaves Akira all tied up, he likes him like that. Likes his arms pulled over the pillow overhead as Akechi leans down and sucks at his swollen nipples. He can taste them, heady and almost like blood. Arsène was right about being honest about his feelings: Akechi does feel better after all. He has no complaints really, none at all. Not when he has Akira prepared for him like this, first thing in the morning.

Pulling the gag off Akira’s mouth and tugging it over his eyes, Akechi draws Akira’s jaw down, stares into his open wide mouth, and spits.

Akechi wakes up to a pounding migraine and vomit on his floor.

He groans in disgust, rolls back onto his bed, and presses both palms into his throbbing sensitive eyes. “Arsène!” He screams.

No response.

“Arsène.”

His phone is blaring and it won’t shut the fuck up. These are the sort of mundane things that created Arsène for and he’s not fucking delivering.

Unable to take the grating torment any longer, Akechi snatches it up, growling out the door. “Arsène. You’ve got to be fucking kidding me...” He answers it. “What.”

“Hello hello,” a pleasant voice says on the other line. “It’s Dr. Maruki. Is everything alright? You’re quite late for your appointment again. It’s unlike you.”

Akechi breathes, running a hand through his hair, “No. Sorry. I just...” He looks around the room, but Arsène is nowhere to be seen. “I didn’t realize what time it was. Arsène usually wakes me up by now...”

“By four in the afternoon?”

“Yeah, well...” He huffs a huge sigh. “Couldn’t sleep last night.”

“Mmm,” Maruki hums knowingly. “Would you like to begin our session now? We can talk about what’s keeping you up over the phone if that’s easier.”

“Yeah. Whatever,” Akechi sighs and falls back into the pillow, closing his eyes and pressing his palm over his face. “Akira and I have been fighting. Fucking wedding plans,” he spits with venom.

“Ah, so it’s no longer going so well?”

“Ugh. He wanted me to come help the other day. So I go over to his house. I help. Right? And Yoshizawa’s there and Kasumi’s there and Morgana’s there. The cat. Morgana’s the cat. And I’m sitting at the counter, trying to be helpful, but...her...all her ideas! They’re so stupid. She’s like a little girl. And Akira just goes along with it all like this lovesick fool. ‘Oh, Sumi, that’s so great. Oh, Sumi, yes, I do love white roses.’ He doesn’t! He doesn’t like white roses because they’re the kind his mother’s church used for her funeral and they used to freak him out! I know! I was there! He fucking hates white roses. And he says he loves them. And Yoshizawa doesn’t notice anything about him, she’s a fucking idiot. And so Akira isn’t held accountable and he just continues on lying! Can you believe that?!”

“So you’re worried he’s not being honest with her.”

“I’m worried he’s burying himself to accommodate her. What kind of relationship is that? He’s such a fool. He can’t maintain that all their lives, can he? What kind of life is that? He’s going to drown!”

“Is he usually the kind to do that, you think? Bury himself to accommodate others?”

“Yes. That’s his way, of course. It makes me insane. Like he doesn’t matter! I’m so...mad!”

“Mmm. Yes, you’re very protective of him, so I could see why. Did you bring it up to him?”

“No. I mean, I should’ve. But I didn’t want to start a fight... So I thought a few drinks would calm me down a bit. I’d take a drink every time she said something stupid. But then I got flat out drunk in no time. And I was just entertaining myself, you know. Making little comments beneath my breath. And Yoshizawa thought I was joking along with her. Fucking tool. And Akira laughed with the twins, but god, the look he gave me...if looks could kill. He said we should take a break. He brought me outside. And he yelled at me. Me! I wasn’t even talking to her! I was talking to myself! I thought that was the nice thing to do!”

Maruki hums thoughtfully. “Were the things you said nice, do you think? If she understood the things you said weren’t a joke, would they be hurtful?”

Akechi laughs. “I mean...to others, I guess. But Akira understands.”

“Did he, just then?”

“I mean. He was mad, but he gets it.”

“Did he say he got it?”

He scowls at the ceiling bitterly. “...Not exactly. He said he didn’t like the way I was acting and, until I could behave myself, I wasn’t invited back. He said that. I wasn’t invited back. So I went home. I destroyed a room or two. And then I...” His eyes flit down to his wrists on reflex, but he forces them back to the ceiling and takes a deep breath.

“You what?” He asks gently. “Did you hurt yourself?”

“I may have. Just a bit. But not that badly. It’s not a big deal.”

Maruki’s voice goes soft. “Did you today?”

“No. How could I have? I just fucking woke up. Arsène is nowhere to be seen! He was supposed to wake me before our appointment, he knows this. God, if he’s off catering to Akira, so help me...I’m going to fucking strangle him!”

“Are you thinking of cutting today?”

“No. No plans. It’s not like it’s ever premeditated. I think it’s as ridiculous as you do.”

“I don’t think it’s ridiculous. How about ice —”

“We tried the fucking ice thing.” Before Maruki speaks, Akechi cuts him off. “And the rubber bands! I hate the rubber bands, they’re not helpful at all. They’re just fucking annoying.”

“I don’t want you hurting yourself.”

“Great,” he mutters. “Well, since you don’t want me to... It’s not like I want to either, you know. It’s not fun. I didn’t mean to. Akira was just... He said not to come back. He told me not to come back... I... We don’t usually fight like that. He understands me. He... He used to be the one to laugh with me. I...” He puts his hand over his face. “We haven’t talked since.”

“How long ago was this?”

Akechi feels a lump develop in his throat and he closes his eyes tightly, trying to fight the burn of tears. “...I,” he tries to say, but it comes out garbled. He shakes his head. “A few days ago.”

“Okay,” Maruki says gently. “Alright. Take a deep breath. Let’s make a plan for how we should approach this. How does that sound?”

“Yeah,” he murmurs. “I suppose. He was mad. He isn’t usually... I used to think he needed me as much as I needed him. And no matter how angry we’d get at each other, we couldn’t stay away. He’d come by within a day. Or text. Or call. This time, he hasn’t. And I just...” A wave of cold washes over him. He exhales slowly. Takes a deep breath in. “He’s leaving me.”

Maruki doesn’t say anything, probably because it’s glaringly obvious that it’s true.

Akechi feels even colder, like the ice in his veins is making his joints stiff. “I think we need to up my medication again.”

Maruki hums lowly beneath his breath as he shifts through his notes. “You’re on the highest dose, Goro... Any more and it wouldn’t be safe. Are you taking it as prescribed?”

“Of course I am, I’m not an idiot. I never miss a single dose. But I need more. Another one to layer on this one. I’m not functioning well on just this. The problem with my head has not been solved.”

“I’m not so sure that’s the answer here. How about we try the plan first? We’ll see how that works, then revisit. Akira seems open to having conversations as long as you approach him honestly.”

“‘Honestly’!” Akechi shouts. “Like him, you mean? Mr. ‘I love white roses even though they terrify me’?? Should I be that kind of honest?”

“This isn’t about his traumas and fears, this is about yours.”

“It’s not trauma and I’m not afraid.”

“It’s about your relationship with him,” Maruki ammends. “Not his relationship with roses. That one he’ll have to work out on his own, as he should, it’s not your responsibility, Goro. You take on too much. How about this? What do you think? Could you go over there this evening and ask for a chat? Explain to him how you’re frustrated?”

Akechi shrugs. “He knows I am. There’s nothing to be done.”

“You don’t have to apologize for being upset. There’s no need to deny how you feel, but to acknowledge you hurt him might make all the difference to him.”

“It isn’t himself he’s worried about, though. It’s Yoshizawa. And I’m not sorry about hurting her.”

“But you’re sorry about hurting him.”

Akechi groans, tugging at his hair.

“What would make him happy, do you think?”

A shiny red button. “Fuck if I know... Whatever makes his beloved Sumi happy. White roses?”

Maruki laughs softly. “I’m not sure you truly believe that.”

“I don’t know. Lemon bars? I suppose I could have Arsène make some... Whenever he returns, that is.”

“That might be nice. Though would Akira be happier if you made some, do you think? If you’re trying to apologize to him, would it be worth the extra effort to you to use your own hands, your own time?”

Akechi groans, closing his eyes. He already knows the answer. Lemon bars done by his own dumb hands it is.

It takes a while, but, once the clock strikes eight, Akechi deems himself officially marinated in his own depressive stench. Cooked. Overdone. He feels like poisoned sludge, but he forcefully pries himself out of his bed anyway. He rubs a weary hand over his face and steps barefoot around the vomit.

Arsène is nowhere to be seen, of course. You make an entire being from literal scraps of the earth and he goes ahead and stabs you in the back on a whim. Well, Akechi can’t exactly blame him. Akira is the center of all their universes, apparently.

Still. Akechi’s spent the past few hours in dead silence feeling spectacularly betrayed by Akira and Arsène both. He meant to get his ass out of bed and make some lemon bars or whatever, but then he thought about what they’re doing together and he just wanted to die. Literally die. It really takes the energy out of you.

Arsène and Akira are probably both eating Yoshizawa out right now, one mouth attached lovingly to each side of her pelvis, their strong hands all over her body as she whines and rides their faces in bliss. Lucky fucking her. Akechi knows firsthand they’re both really good at making their partners come so he is, naturally, very jealous.

After jerking off fast and hard to the thought of Akira and Arsène taking him from both sides (he could fit both in one hole?? Probably?? If there’s a will, there’s a way), he finally decides it’s time to make some fucking lemon bars. He turns the corner groggily, scratching at his belly as he wonders where the nearest lemon may be (probably Akira’s house, honestly), and stops.

Arsène is here. He’s on the floor a single step out of Akechi’s room, slipped sideways across the wall, sprawled broken on the ground. His eyes are half open and dull as they stare out at nothing. His limbs are bent at odd angles. He’s fucking dead.

Akechi’s breath catches in his throat. Ice floods him. And he can’t explain it. After all that time bitching about Arsène, he can’t breathe at the sight of him like that. He can’t move. Arsène is dead. Akechi’s been alone with his corpse this whole time.

He feels his mother like a ghost across his skin, her golden hair tousled over her pillow, her hand outstretched toward him, fingertips blue. Cold. Grey. And now Arsène, too. Staring blankly forward, not a spark of life left inside of him. For how long...? And Akechi criticized and criticized and criticized him.

Akechi makes a strangled noise in the back of his throat and then he’s racing away. He doesn’t even think, he just sprints downstairs, panting and frantic and ten again. Before he knows it, he’s knocking madly at Akira’s door, tossing himself over it in terror.

“Akira!” He’s pounding on that closet door again. “AKIRA.”

The door swings open and Akira stands there, face pale and grey eyes sharp and wide. He’s just in boxers, only his cheeks are bright pink, a dab of red in snow white. “What? What is it?” He whips out. “What’s going on?”

“It’s — It’s —” Akechi can’t breathe. He waves his hands in front of him and lets out a strangled sound. “I woke up. I woke up and he wasn’t there. And I missed my appointment. I thought he was here. I thought he was with you. So I didn’t look for him. I left him like that. I left him. All this time!! He was all alone! I left him ALL ALONE!”

“Who?”

“Arsène! It’s Arsène! He’s fucking DEAD.”

“What...?” Akira breathes, tossing a look over his shoulder as he puts a hand to Akechi’s arm to steady him. “Sumi? I’m sorry. Goro’s —”

“Yep. Yeah. Alright. Don’t worry. Let me know if I can help.”

“Akira!!”

“Yeah.” He whirls Akechi around and closes the door behind him. “Deep breaths. You’re panicking.”

“He’s dead, Akira! On my floor. He died right on my floor. I’ve been mad at him, thinking he left, and he was dead all along. Oh, god.”

“Show me.”

Akechi leads Akira up the stairs and stops in front of Arsène’s broken body. Akechi doesn’t go in close. He closes his eyes before he can see the sight again, turning his head away and staring blankly at the high vaulted ceilings. “Fuck,” he whispers tightly, trying to quell the acidic nausea rolling up his throat. He fiddles with his waistline, biting hard at his lip. “What do I do? What do I do without him?”

Akira walks in closer to kneel. He reaches forward, brushes his unbuttoned collar aside. “...Goro, look at this. His core is blinking.” He looks up. “Did he not charge it?”

“What?” Akechi turns. He puts a hand on Akira’s shoulder for support as he leans in and looks closer. He stares. And stares some more. Arsène had opened his shirt to present his core. He knew what was happening and did nothing. “But why...?” It is though. It’s blinking. Low battery. “O-oh. ...You’re...you’re right.”

Akira’s watching his face closely. “...Do you have another one?”

“No. I mean...yes. But...but I can just...” Akechi shakes his head, trying to clear the fog. He sinks down to his knees beside Akira and stares blankly ahead. What the hell just happened? Why did he forget that? It’s something so plainly obvious, so stupidly easy. Like forgetting to charge a phone overnight and truly believing it was dead forever by morning. A child wouldn’t even fall for that. He must be going insane. “I can just...charge it. It’s simple.”

“Oh,” Akira breathes in relief. “Good. That’s good, right?”

Akechi nods mutely, placing his hands on his knees. He feels silly suddenly. Untethered. Out of his mind. “Robots...don’t die,” he says.

“I mean, you’re the one who always told me that. You made him from literally nothing.”

“Right. Yeah. I did. It’s true. I just.” He shakes his head, in a daze. “I don’t know... I woke up and I — I thought...”

“You okay...? You seem a bit...” Akira looks down, taking in Akechi in his pajamas. He stops at his arms and his voice goes low and hushed. “...Goro.”

“Huh?” Akechi looks down too. He slides his hand over his wrist. “Oh. It’s...it’s nothing.”

“That isn’t nothing.”

“It’s nothing,” he says more firmly, fingernails digging in deep. “I’ve already told Maruki.” He gets to his feet and sighs, running his hands over his face as he walks off. “I’ll... Fuck.” He walks back, kneels in front of Arsène, and takes out his core. “Thanks for this. I’m fine now. Sorry for bothering you.”

Akira stays where he is. “Have you been sleeping all day...?”

“No.”

“And you haven’t eaten anything, have you?” He sounds so tired. Like a father chastising his dumb reckless son.

When did Akira become the mature one?

Akechi sniffs and shrugs. “Basically morning for me.”

There’s a soft groan. “...Dinner’s done. I’ll bring some over for you.”

“Hm.” He’s beginning to feel more like himself. Sharpened to a point. Angry. “Still banned from your house? That’s alright. I’d rather not.”

“So, what? You’re punishing me by hurting yourself?”

“No,” Akechi murmurs. “It’s not always about you. Shocking, I know. You’re definitely the main character of this story.”

Akira groans and tosses his hands out. “I didn’t say you can’t come over. You know I didn’t. I said you can’t come over until you stop treating Sumi like shit. That one is up to you. And it still counts, you know, even if she doesn’t understand that you’re making fun of her. Just because she’s laughing with you doesn’t mean you’re not being a complete asshole.”

Akechi’s quiet.

“...I’ve missed you though. I thought you’d come over and apologize, but you never did.”

“You overestimate me, then.” Akechi says bitterly, “You didn’t come to me either.”

“I know,” Akira sighs into both hands. He leaves his face pressed into them. “I was going to, but we’ve been...having issues at home too. It’s just been a lot. I’ve been really stressed, I could not take another fight or I was going to fucking implode. I was just going to hibernate until I felt better but it just...never happened. I’m just tired.”

Akechi shifts against the wall and bites at his lip. He isn’t used to seeing Akira so down. It’s coming off of him in waves, spiky and jittery and strange. “What issues?”

“Um...just...the private kind.”

Akechi tenses up. He pushes himself off the wall and turns. “Fine. Whatever. I don’t give a shit anyway. You know your way out.”

“I can’t come,” Akira blurts out between his fingers. He pulls them away from his face, cringing. “...Can’t come anymore.”

Akechi blinks, taken aback. He looks downstairs, at the entryway, but it’s empty. He walks in, leaning over Akira and whispering loudly, “What?”

“I know!” Akira wheezes, staring blankly into the ground. “I don’t know! Sumi’s freaking out! This is...way too much information, but usually I’m...fine. Like. A strong breeze can set me off. You know what I was like during puberty, it’s hardly gotten better.”

“Ugh.”

“I know. I know,” he waves a hand in front of his face. “And we’ve been doing everything how we usually do and then some, but I just...” He groans in misery. “I can’t get hard!” He wails into the air between them, his distressed voice bouncing off the walls and echoing. “I can’t even get it a little hard. I’m totally soft no matter what she does! She tried to suck me off for over three hours the other day, Goro. THREE HOURS. I nearly lost my fucking mind. I’m still fucking sore! Her jaw’s clicking now! I had to take her to the doctor and now she has to wear a nightguard! Maybe forever! Because of my cock! It didn’t even do anything! It didn’t even feel good! And it was her mouth, I mean — What’s wrong with me?”

“I...” Akechi leans back, a bit stunned. “I’ve heard stress can do it.”

“I thought that too, at first. It started when you and I began fighting. I was so pissed off at you and I couldn’t even vent to Sumi about it or she’d know why. I couldn’t sleep, I was so mad. But...but I’m starting to think it’s something else. It’s way too consistent.”

Akechi picks at his arm, trying not to sound too obviously eager. “Are you, um...are you still...attracted to her?”

Akira scowls up at him. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Like... Don’t take this the wrong way, but...when I think of women, I can’t say they do anything for me. I heard they smell...fishy.”

Akira chokes and sputters. “No! They are not fishy. I mean, not always. I thought you were asexual.”

“Some form of it probably. But I’m just saying...” He tosses his hand at Akira’s crotch and then toward his house. “Maybe...”

“No,” Akira waves his hand in front of his face. “I see what you’re saying, but I just... I can’t even get myself hard right now. Nothing feels good. Dunno why, Goro, but it’s driving me insane. Sumi thinks it means I don’t love her anymore. Or that I don’t want to marry her. Or that she doesn’t turn me on. I mean, what am I supposed to say when I literally can’t get hard for her?! That feels like the ultimate proof! I’m emotionally and physically drained. Every waking moment, she’s been either determined to jerk me to hardness, making me fucking rawer than I’ve ever been in my life, or crying her eyes out. Or all at the same time!”

“Yikes.” Akechi eyes the boxers. “Is that why you’re half naked?”

“Yes. She’s been wanting to try new things. If you must know, she had me over the table with a fucking strap on when you came sobbing at our doorstep. It hurts. She’s so fucking eager.”

Fuck. A bolt of raw rage cuts through Akechi’s gut. Akira’s insides are his. That’s his domain, his tight hole to rest his cock.

He wants to spin Akira around over the banister and show him what eager really feels like. He’s been prepared for him, hasn’t he?

But, with great effort, Akechi scratches his nose daintily and puts it away. “Wasn’t sobbing...”

“It’s the worst fucking timing of my life. It could have happened any time in the last thirty years. But now?! Now! Unbelievable.”

“Truly,” Akechi murmurs, running his finger over his bottom lip. “Have you tried a doctor?”

“First fucking thing we did. They gave me medicine. I’m horny as fuck, but I can’t get hard. I didn’t even know that was possible. It’s torture!”

“Not at all?”

“No. It’s like being starving and you eat and eat and eat, but you’re still starving. And now uncomfortably full! I’m in agony! I just want to come!!”

And Akechi’s never been one to ignore a desire or command of Akira’s... He kneels down beside him quickly, tilting his head and looking into his face closer, so they’re only inches apart, breathing in each other’s air.

“I’m technically a doctor, you know. Perhaps I can help.”

“I —”

They’ve been this close a million times over, but Akira blinks like it’s brand new, his bright eyes widening. He doesn’t move back.

Akechi bites hard at his lip. He wishes there was some way, some easy little way, he could just...spit in Akira’s mouth... Would he let him?

Akira is the first one to break eye contact, he takes a deep breath, swallows hard and looks away pointedly. He tries to shift away inconspicuously. So inconspicuously that it’s suspicious.

Akechi looks down.

Akira’s bulging out of his boxers. He’s hard. And there wasn’t even a breeze.

“Akira.”

“Shut up.”

“Akira. Are you seeing what I’m seeing?”

“I said shut up.”

“You’re hard.”

“Goro.”

“You just said you couldn’t get hard anymore. I didn’t even do anything.”

“I don’t — I just —” Akira stands sharply, but it’s a mistake. His crotch is now in line with Akechi’s face, who’s not even half a foot away.

Akechi blinks at Akira’s tented boxers, pointed right in his face, and then he looks up at Akira’s eyes.

He’s staring back, eyes wide, pupils dilated. Breath shallow.

Horny as fuck.

Akira doesn’t move. He stares, helplessly, finally having gotten what he’s wanted, needing.

Akechi can give him relief. He reaches his hand up, placing it on Akira’s thigh and, so carefully, slides it up to Akira’s very hard erection. The soft flesh is so erect it pokes through the front hole in the cloth — a hint of pink through white — and Akechi slides inside, catching it and rubbing his thumb over the pronounced tip. Silky bliss. “I could just...”

Akira exhales sharply. He closes his eyes and his knees quiver, his hand catching Akechi by the head. He threads each finger tightly through Akechi’s hair and he groans, loud and long, with so much relief. His sweet voice echoes in a loop through Akechi’s mansion, and Akechi gasps as Akira tugs on his scalp harder, jerking him in. “More,” Akira whines in the highest sluttiest voice Akechi has ever heard.

Akechi presses a kiss to the head of Akira’s cock, the tip of his tongue tasting his warm salt —

Akira lets out a strangled growl. “—No,” He chokes, tripping over his feet and skidding away, his poor pink cock ripped right from between Akechi’s fingertips, swinging away from his soft mouth. “No. Goro. Jesus. No. I just. Sumi. I’ve gotta. Dinner. Come by? Wait. No. I um. Don’t. Bye!!” And he runs off, slamming hard into the end of the staircase before falling flat on his face to the floor with a loud oomph.

“Akira?” Akechi gets to his feet and leans over the balcony railing, staring down at the whirlwind that is Akira down below. “You okay?”

“Fine! I’m fine! I just — Shit.”

The front door slams hard and Akira disappears.

Akechi looks down at his own tented pants...and laughs.

Akira can’t get hard for anyone but him. It’s really working. Akira’s really changing.

The dark cloud over his head evaporates. Just. Like. That.

Akechi has been sleeping a lot.

Arsène thinks it’s because of his depression. Apparently it does things like that. He’s been very overly worried about Akechi’s behavior lately. Apparently that’s what caused his shutdown.

“Arsène! Why the hell did you let yourself go out?” Akechi spat at him the second Arsène powered back on, blinking his pretty eyes open slowly. “What was that all about? I come out. You’re fucking dead on the wall like some crime scene. I still have the image of you broken on the ground stuck in my head! I was terrified.”

“You were worried?” Arsène touched the tips of his fingers to his forehead, reacquainting himself with his body. “Sir, that was foolish of you. I am not human. I cannot die.”

“You think I don’t know that? You looked like you were dead. ...I thought you were dead.”

Arsène watched him for a long time. “My apologies, Master. I won’t let it happen again. There was an error with the charger. When I went to notify you, sir, you were crying. I waited for hours, but you did not stop. The left hemisphere of your brain was dark and the right was firing beyond its default markers. You were having a vivid trauma response. I did not want to bother you over something so trivial when your health was at such a low. Master Akira said your health always comes first and I agree. I was waiting for you to stabilize...but I lost power before that could happen. I apologize. I should’ve thought up an acceptable alternative before then.”

Akechi sniffed in his hand. He shook his head and pulled his hair back over his shoulders. “Fuck. Next time, say something, alright? Even if I’m freaking out. I never want to see that again.”

“Yes, sir.” Arsène hesitated, brow furrowed. “If you could clear one thing up for me that I don’t quite understand, sir. ...You could always make another model. A better model. If I break one day, why not just do that? Upgrade. It’s the answer that makes the most logical sense.”

Akechi looked at him for a long moment before he sighed and peeled himself up to his feet.

It just depressed him even more, the oblivious courtesy of a robot.

So he’s been sleeping a lot. Akechi isn’t bothered much by it. When he sleeps, he doesn’t have to be awake. When he’s not awake, he doesn’t have to regret being alive. So it’s really pretty nice.

“Master.”

If only Arsène would let him fucking rest though. So much for caring about Akechi’s health. Sleep is what he needs right now. Forever and ever. Why can’t anyone else see that...?

“Master, another call.”

Akechi groans, turning onto his side and sighing out. “Tell them to go fuck themselves...” He says dreamily.

“It’s Master Akira.”

“Hmm. Yeah,” he mumbles. “Tell him that. Extra hard for him... Want him...on all fours...begging...” He’s drifting back off, deeper...deeper...

Akira, naked. Akira, propped on the side of his bed on all fours, taking it up his beautiful shivering body. Feeling so good...because of Akechi...

I love you, I love you, I LOVE YOU, Akira cries in writhing ecstasy, babbling and making a fool out of himself. But Akechi will love it. Akechi will cherish it. Reward him with a cock in his mouth.

Arsène says merrily, “I’m afraid I’ve already conversed with him, but I can update him with your charming addendum when we see him next. He requires your assistance today and I’ve already confirmed your availability.”

He tosses his comforter off his body and stares in disbelief at Arsène. “What the fuck? Who gave you permission?”

Arsène has no shame, no remorse. “I did, sir. He’s quite persuasive so I could not say no and I thought it’d be for the best if you got out, for once.”

Akechi sputters and tosses his arms wide. “I’m fine.” He looks down and sees his own naked cock. Oh shit. He forgot clothes. He’s half-hard. Embarrassing.

“No, sir. You’re in good company though, you’ll be interested to hear that Akira was quite distressed as well.”

“What? Why? What was wrong?”

“Something about an appointment for the wedding. He called several times.”

Akechi rolls his eyes, all feelings of anxiety leaving him. “Fuck. Don’t let him in if he comes by. I’m avoiding him. Don’t want to hear about his bullshit wedding drama.”

“Ah.” Arsène tilts his head. “He’s at the door.” A beat. “He’s coming in.”

“Double fuck.” Akechi runs to his laundry hamper and grabs some pants to cover his nude body. “Traitor... I know you unlocked the door for him. How could you do this to me?” His soft cock swings.

Just in time because Akira peeks around the corner, giving a short wave. “Hey.”

“Knock next time! Jesus. I didn’t have on pants.”

Akira smirks and comes in anyway. “Hi, Arsène.”

“Good morning, Master Akira. It’s delightful to see you again. I have a message for you that Master Goro told me to pass on: please go fuck yourself, but not the default amount — harder than others should. He would most enjoy viewing you bent, naked, I’m assuming, on all —”

“Oh my god, okay! Thank you, Arsène!” Akechi bellows. “You may go. Please, please go.”

With a sweet gentle smile, he bows politely and turns. “As you wish.”

Akira laughs. “He likes chaos, doesn’t he? And he delivers it so calmly.”

“I’m sure that’s a feature you installed.” Akechi comes to a halt as he sees Akira. He’s in...all leather.

Fuck. Leather jacket. Leather pants. And it’s form fitting. God, is it. Were his legs always that long and lean? Akechi can’t stop staring. He looks so fucking mouthwatering, like a model in a magazine made specifically for Akechi. A fairy from the forest come to life. He can see the sharp outline of Akira, that tight formed silhouette through the curtains. Akechi burns with a deep yearning, he wants to be on the other end of that curtain too, grinding up against his leather covered cock.

He’ll take him on all fours. He’ll take him standing. He’ll take him any which way, doesn’t matter, just let him take him. He wants to toss him like a wild animal to the ground and just ravage him.

Akira tilts his head in front of Akechi’s face and waves a hand, giving his fingers a little wiggle. “Hello? Earth to Goro. Do you really walk around in the nude?”

“Wha —?” Akechi jerks his attention back up, looking into Akira’s face. Also very nice. “I was sleeping!”

“Sleeping in the nude,” Akira says casually. His eyes drift down, but then he quickly catches himself and looks up to the ceiling. “Interesting. You didn’t used to do that.”

“Didn’t want to scar your virginal eyes back then,” Akechi scoffs as he readjusts his pants on his hips. “You’d masturbate to anything. I was terrified.”

“Ha, wow. Now you’re free as a bird, huh?”

“Yes, yes. I just got your messages. Sorry. I was dead asleep when you called. I’m still trying to wake up...”

Akira says softly, “You’ve been sleeping a lot lately.”

“Yeah. I just need...” He looks around himself. “A shirt. Is there a shirt anywhere? Arsène.”

“Oh my god, you don’t need Arsène for every little thing.” Akira opens Akechi’s dresser, peering inside. “What color do you want?”

“Surprise me.”

Akira tosses him a red shirt and closes the drawer. He holds up a container he carried in. “Brought you a peace offering.”

Akechi grunts as he tugs the shirt overhead. “Are we still fighting?”

“Not after this raspberry chocolate coffee cake, we won’t be.”

Akechi snorts as he walks across the room and into his closet, looking for shoes. “Thanks. I suppose I’ll have to forgive you then because I do love raspberry.”

Akira waggles his eyebrows. “I know you do.”

“Arsène said something about an appointment being canceled?”

“Right. That. So you know how Sumi and I were going to go cake testing? Well, the appointment’s today. Guess what happened yesterday?”

“Let me see...she rode you raw and broke your cock off?”

Akira chokes violently into his hand, nearly doubling over. “Not quite,” he squeaks.

“You mean not yet.”

Akira waves him away. “We got takeout from that new sushi place and it meant instant food poisoning for her. Thank god I just got vegetable tempura, that’s all I can say. Last night was a night. Barely got any sleep.”

“Jesus... Is she alright?”

Akira snorts, running his finger along the design carved in the door frame. “Haven’t seen anyone projectile vomit that far since you and I went to that party in middle school. Remember that? They said to eat as much as we wanted and you took it literally. You weren’t used to eating that much and you vomited so hard you made it over the table. It was magnificent. Like a violent cherub water fountain. Only a vomit fountain. And not a fountain at all, because it was projectile.”

Akechi rolls his eyes. “How could I forget? They were so pissed.”

“Ah, fuck ‘em. You were what? Eleven? You sure made it look like a sport though... I wonder if you and Sumi battled it out, who would win? You both seem to be pretty passionate vomiters.”

“You’re disgusting. Absolutely abhorrent.”

Akira’s eyes gleam and twinkle brightly and then he laughs. “But no, seriously. She’s doing better today, but not exactly in the mood to cake test. I wanted to postpone, but she’s adamant we’ll never be able to rebook in time. The place is fucking popular. Sumi’s dad had to throw his weight around a little for this slot. So!” Akira tosses his arms open. “I’m calling upon the powers of Goro Akechi to be my cake tester in crime. Sumi’s happy with it. She says if I take you, we’ll know it’s good because, and I quote, ‘nothing pleases you’.”

“What a fucking insult.”

“It’s a compliment. You have high class tastes. We’re pretending to be bourgeois for the wedding, you’re going to have to show us how.”

“Whatever you say.” Akechi draws a brush through his hair, checks both sides of his face in the mirror, and then turns, opening his arms to Akira for a check. Akira takes him in warmly and nods. “Well, if you’re sure. When you asked for a favor, I thought it’d be something horrendous like last time.”

“Would you have done the horrendous thing?”

Akechi leads Akira out the door, snatching up a jacket from the coat hanger. “Depends how horrendous.”

“First prostate exam. You have to hold my hand while the doctor’s rooting around because I’m scared. I sob the whole time.”

“Dear god. I suppose I would.”

Akira laughs. “Umm. What else...? Having you help me dig a new pool for our backyard.”

“That one’s an easy one. I’d just have Arsène do it. He likes that sort of thing, though you’d have to be okay with dynamite near your home... I’d, of course, pay for damages if it came to that. Next.”

“Uhhh. I can’t think of horrendous enough things.”

“No, you’re shit at it.”

“How about burying...the bodies.”

“Great, so you’re a murderer now.”

Akira laughs. “Maybe I’m a vampire? I need to suck blood to sustain my life. What would you say?”

Akechi smiles sharply. “I’d say, don’t even worry your pretty little head over where they’ll end up.” He swirls his hand in the air with a flourish. “They’re gone.”

Akira watches Akechi’s hand in awe. “Fuck, that’s dark. You’re not even going to make Arsène dig holes for them?”

“No need. Though, if you did turn into a vampire, you could bypass all that and just use my blood, you know. As long as you don’t add me to your body count.”

“But I can’t help myself.”

“Oh, dear lord. A messy vampire. Figures.”

Chuckling away, Akira leads Akechi to his driveway, where his car is absent. In its place is his motorcycle. Ah, so that’s what the leather was for. God bless Akira’s motorcycle.

Making it look like an art, Akira tosses his leg over the seat and grabs his helmet, pulling it over his hair. Little black curls peek through the bottom and sides. He grabs the other one and holds it out for Akechi. “Brought your helmet for you. Thought it’d be a nice day to take out the bike. Complaints?”

The leather hugs Akira’s thighs and Akechi gets to hug Akira from behind. For ‘safety reasons’. Sounds like heaven to him.

Akechi arches an amused eyebrow, grabs the helmet, and straddles the seat behind Akira.

“Awesome,” Akira sings excitedly. “Thanks, Goro. Sumi’s scared of the thing. I never get to use it anymore.”

“Hmm.” I could be better for you, Akechi wants to whisper in his ear. I would never forbid it. He leans forward, wrapping his arms around Akira’s waist. He’s warm and solid beneath his palms. “Not for everyone, I suppose. Especially the way you drive.”

“Can it.” Akira finishes up a text before pocketing his phone. He tosses a grin back at Akechi before flicking his visor down. “Safe and secure?”

“Like I said, that’ll depend on your driving. I, however, have done all I can.”

Akira snorts. “You’re so fucking pretentious. Hold on then!”

Akira starts her up and off they go.

There’s always been something amazing about Akira. Something open and fierce and free. Akechi would’ve never even thought to buy a motorcycle in a million years because...well, that’s not him, is it? The funny thing is, when Akira first bought it, Akechi couldn’t help but think what a waste of money it was. Why? But riding with Akira out on the dewy morning roads, feeling the cool breeze cutting across his body, cleansing and fresh and real... It takes all the muck and tar from Akechi’s stagnant gunked up soul and washes it all away. Akira feels like new beginnings.

Akechi closes his eyes and tilts his neck back, breathing it all in — Akira, the sun bathing them in warmth, the clear horizon beside them — absorbing how it feels to be alive. This is peace. This is heaven.

“So...Arsène says you’ve been holing up again lately,” Akira calls over his shoulder. “That you haven’t left your house in the past few weeks, and that you barely even leave your bed.”

“Did he?” Akechi murmurs, eyes still closed.

“Unprompted, actually. Want to talk about it?”

“What’s there to talk about?”

“He’s worried about you.”

“Because you made him that way. He didn’t have anxieties before, you know. He was living in peace and harmony. If only he could still be so lucky, but no, someone had to give him tiring worries. That’s not my doing.”

Akira snorts. “Well, I might be worried about you too.”

“So he has to be?” Akechi sighs, leaning back in and wrapping his arms around Akira’s center tighter. He rests his chin over Akira’s shoulder as he thinks. He decides the best and most efficient way out of this is just to be honest this time. “I think I’m having a third life crisis.”

“Oh, yeah?”

“Yeah. I don’t know. It just feels strange, how busy you’ve been. I feel a bit...I don’t know. Odd about it all. Nothing new. I’ve already told you everything, or more like screamed it at you. It just hasn’t gone away.”

Akira’s quiet for a while. “I get it, you know. When you went off to college, I know I was the one who kinda forced you into it, but I nearly had an aneurysm anyway. After doing everything together for so long — parties, classes, meals, brushing our teeth together — it’s strange when the other’s off and doing something else and suddenly you just...can’t be there with them anymore. That’s how it felt. Like my little bird flew the coop. I was so lost and everything felt so quiet and empty without you, it felt all wrong. Meaningless. ...I think I’m your little bird this time.”

Akechi huffs out a small sad chuckle. “Yeah, Akira. You’re my little bird. That’s exactly it.”

“It’s not true though, you know. I’m not going anywhere, I’m still here for you. And life is plenty meaningful.”

Akechi takes a deep breath and leans his forehead against Akira’s back, nestling in closer. Beautiful lies. Pretty tales. Don’t believe anything.

“Hey. By the way. Thanks for sending Sumi more flowers this week. You didn’t have to do that. She’s really happy, it means a lot to her — your acceptance. And she really loves daffodils. I actually like daffodils too, in case you wanted to know. And our house is looking pretty damn great and cheerful with them everywhere.”

Akechi chuckles. “You know you’re supposed to replace the old ones with the new.”

“She’s been hanging them to dry, actually. She’s all excited about her Goro Akechi friendship collection. She’s already pressed a few into books and made wreaths for our doors... Every. Single. One.”

“Oh, god. Live, laugh, love.”

“Yeah,” Akira laughs boldly. “Fuck, we’re that couple.”

“Ugh... Remember when we tossed random seeds in the plain-as-fuck backyard the first winter we built the place? Arsène adjusted the soil and — boom — we’ve got an entire field out there now. As far as I’m concerned, they’re your flowers too. If you need any for the wedding or for your Live, Laugh, Love collection, you’re free to them.”

“Even if we want gaudy overdone white roses?”

Akechi frowns and says seriously, “I’ve been wanting to talk to you about that. I had a point about those, you know. You’ve always had a thing about white roses. Remember the nightmares you used to have about them?”

Akira’s back shudders against Akechi’s chest. “Don’t remind me. They’d constrict me with their thorn-y vines and take me down into the mud so I couldn’t breathe. And then I’d die too. They were all around me. Like snakes.”

“You’d wake up screaming and crying, calling your mother’s name. It was awful. So why didn’t you say anything when Yoshizawa brought it up? I don’t understand why you wouldn’t, it seems like a pretty big thing.”

“It was,” Akira says as he takes a turn and looks down the other side of the road. “A long time ago, it was. But isn’t it time to replace those bad memories with new ones? I’ve spent a lot of time afraid of the things and it was never their fault. Instead of letting the image stay hooked in fear over my mother’s death, why not tether them to love and hope and Sumi and a bright new future? Wouldn’t that be so nice...? So I don’t have to be so afraid anymore. So maybe I can have one more thing to enjoy, rather than fear.”

Akechi’s quiet. He stares down at Akira’s back. He hadn’t ever thought about it that way. That’s the thing about Akira, he thinks so differently than Akechi. He opens new doors Akechi didn’t know existed. Couldn't there be something beautiful in change? “...That’s surprisingly mature of you.”

“Surprisingly?” Akira laughs loudly, tossing his head back.

“Not like that. Just... I hadn’t thought of it that way. I thought you were letting her torture you and I was upset you wouldn’t stick up for yourself. I didn’t realize you were growing.”

“I’ve been known to do that every once in a while.” He sounds so pleased with himself. And why shouldn’t he be? “Oh! Is that why you were being such an asshole to Sumi? Oh my god, it is, isn’t it? Why didn’t you say something when I brought you outside to talk? You just glared at me all rebelliously. I was so upset with you. I couldn’t understand why you were being like that to her. I thought it was just petty jealousy.”

She doesn’t understand you, he wants to say, but the voice is quieter than before. Maybe it isn’t true anymore, maybe he’s the one who doesn’t understand.

Yoshizawa, the light, brightening and warming the dungeon chill that had crystallized over Akira’s skin after all those years of being locked up with Akechi.

Akechi heaves a long deep sigh and closes his eyes into Akira’s back, letting all his weight sink into him. It’s sad, but even feeling that way brings Akechi guilt. Akira’s so mature now, so emotionally articulate. He used to be such a mess — screaming and hurting and crying, unable to express the why — someone Akechi could relate to. Maybe Akira doesn’t need him anymore as much as he thought. It was petty jealousy. Akechi likes white roses too; he didn’t want her to have them.

He wanted those white roses for their moonlit midnight wedding. They’d glow delicately in the deep blue darkness as Akira and Akechi would kiss softly beneath the altar.

Akechi’s still there, in dreams, while Akira’s matured into dealing with reality. Akira takes another step forward, while Akechi stays in the dark, entertaining fairytales that will never be.

“You’re amazing, Akira,” he murmurs lowly into his jacket.

“Hm? Did you say something?” Akira asks over his shoulder.

Akechi raises his voice. “Are we there yet?”

“Nearly! Wait until you see the place, you’re going to love it!”

He must be joking. The place is god awful.

It’s the worst fucking thing Akechi’s ever seen. It’s stained bright pink. There are cat paws on the walls outside, climbing over the brick walls and continuing over the windows. Inside is worse. Butterfly paintings that are too large for their gaudy over-saturated murals litter each wall. The seats are fucking cat beds. The tables are a slab of glass balanced on a huge sculpture of yarn. It’s a fucking zoo.

“What the fuck...is this place...?” Akechi asks flatly.

Akira tosses his arms wide as he skips backwards and grins. “Welcome to The Cat’s Meow! At your service! Come on, Goro!”

There is nothing professional about this place, but Akira lights up with delight over everything, so Akechi keeps his damn mouth shut. Because he has manners. Because he can behave himself when it comes down to it. Even if it’s physically painful denying himself the rant.

Akira tosses an amused side glance at him, grin crooked and far too bright, and Akechi realizes Akira already knows his opinion anyway.

They sit across from each other at a booth. Akechi stares down at the cat bed seat as a variety of cake is delivered to them per slice. He swears to god there are giant cat hairs stitched into the fabric. It has absolutely nothing to do with cake. “This place was Sumire’s idea, wasn’t it?”

Akira looks over in surprise for a moment before softening. He snorts into his hand, tilting his head fondly as he watches Akechi take the place in with horror. “What makes you say that? We all know I love cats most.”

“Yes, but...” He looks about the place with a delicate posture. He gives a dainty sniff.

Akira’s shoulders shake from his silent laughter. “Just wait. You’ll see.” Akira grabs the plates already set out, looks at the tags, and slides one over. “This one. You’ll like this one.”

Akechi has already decided he won’t be able to like anything from this place, but he humors Akira and ignores the way he’s staring at him, watching. Akechi holds out a hand to block Akira’s view and leans forward to take a small tentative bite.

Akechi immediately stops, eyes going wide. He hums softly and stares down at the cake, placing his fingertips to his mouth. He has to give himself a moment to let the morsel melt in his mouth so he can properly process just how good it is. And it is so fucking good. It’s a slice of heaven. Not too sweet, not too much, delicate, light, criminally delectable. It’s literally perfect. Holy shit. Yoshizawa was right. She was so right.

Akira snorts, jaw resting cheekily on his fist as he leans forward casually and watches from beneath freakishly thick dark lashes. “You’ve gone mute, Goro. Now, what was that you were going to say about this place again?”

Akechi is still in cake heaven and cannot afford to leave it.

“Something about how my tastes are impeccable and I am the best person you know in the entire world and you should always trust my opinion no matter what from this point on? Hm?”

Akechi stabs into Akira’s piece and crams it in his mouth before Akira can catch him.

Akira yelps. “Hey! That’s mine! I’m the groom!”

Akechi grins cheekily around his fork. “You’ll get it on your wedding day.”

“So will you.” Akira heaves himself over the table and wrestles Akechi for the fork in his hand. “You can’t have anymore since you called the place gaudy!”

“Fuck off,” Akechi laughs, strongarming his fork into another slice of cake and biting it right off. It’s just as good as the first. “I was being polite and never actually said it out loud. It’s not my fault you can read my mind — without my permission, might I add. I can’t be blamed.”

“Oh, I’ll blame you alright.”

“Watch it or I’m going to eat this entire thing.”

“You already did eat the whole thing! You didn’t save me a bite!”

“I did, you drama queen. It’s right there. And it’s so fucking good...”

“That’s a morsel. A scrap!” He laughs. “You’re evil. Evil Goro!”

“God!” He looks down at his fork still held between his fingers and he offers it out. “Fine! Here, you big baby.”

Akira leans in and chomps the bite off of Akechi’s fork, closing his eyes and humming in cake-filled bliss. Akechi laughs warmly, holding his hand out beneath the fork so nothing will drop. It feels just like old times. Warm and serene and there’s only trust between them, none of the betrayal, none of the hurt. Trust and comfort and everything good and —

Akechi blinks. He’s feeding Akira. His saliva is on his fork and Akira is leaning in, tilting his head, and sucking it off, right out of Akechi’s outstretched offered palm. It’s just how he looks when he sucks Akechi’s cock off. Eyes closed, humming, body shifting back and forward just slightly. On all fours.

Bent. Naked. Hole stuffed with cock. Mouth stuffed with whatever it’s fed.

Akira reacts to Akechi’s reaction and, halfway through it, realizes what he’s done. They stare at each other wide-eyed, both noticing themselves at the same moment, faces only inches apart. Akira’s mouth on Akechi’s fork.

Akira’s cheeks go red and he quickly pushes himself back into his pet seat, rubbing harshly at the embarrassment burning up his face. “Haha. Um,” Akira says. “That was weird —”

Akechi clears his throat roughly into his fist. Tries to get the image of Akira naked and leaning back on the pet seat, exhausted after a fuck — throat and chest pink, cock red and so erect, waiting to be touched, to be loved, to be fucked — out of his head. “The cake. Is good.”

Akira can’t look at him either. “Y-yeah! Yeah. Totally good. Told ya, am I right? Dunno which to order when they’re all so good. Woohoo.”

“Perhaps we should go with the lemon.”

“O-oh. But you like raspberries though? Let’s just get that.”

Akechi smiles crookedly, watching the stumped frazzled look on Akira’s face. “...Yes, but I’m not the bride.”

Akira’s lips part and his eyes go even wider. He forgot.

The chef chooses the same exact moment to come over, smiling merrily at the both of them. “I see we’ve finished so soon! So! What does the happy couple think?”

Akira chokes violently, clapping a hand on his chest as he shakes his head with way too much vehemence. He takes a few desperate gulps of his water. “No. No, we’re just. Why would you think that—? He’s basically my brother. My best man.”

“Oh,” the chef blinks in surprise, looking back and forth between the two of them. “Forgive me. I’ve been watching you and you looked so close, so I just assumed —”

“It’s okay. No. Yeah. We are. Close. Um. But not in a sexual way. Um. Not that I — I didn’t mean — It’s not like we’ve, uh...you know, been in bed together. Shit. I didn’t mean to say that either. I just meant! We haven’t touched each other — oh my god, I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. I cannot talk today. Anyway. The cake. It’s great. It’s all great. We’ll get the raspberry.”

Akechi and the chef stare at him. Akechi frowns. “...But Sumire.”

“Wha — ? What about — ? Oh! No. Sorry! Sumi’s favorite is lemon. Of course. Sorry. We’ll get that. Just. The one we just had. Yeah. That. Whichever.”

The chef looks confused and Akira even moreso, who puts his hands over his face and sighs out shakily. “Fuck.”

Akechi crosses his hands over the table and delicately asks, “Won’t there be several tiers? You should get something you like as well, Akira. Sumire isn’t the only one in your relationship, no?”

“Yeah! You’re right,” he coughs, slapping his hand to his chest and shaking his head quickly. “Sorry. Ha, get a hold of yourself, Akira... Yeah. Variety, uhhhhh...is good! Like bisexual! Bicakexual. ...Oh my god.” He droops, laying his face onto the table and staying down.

The chef presses his lips together for a moment before saying, “We also offer the option of doing both together. Lemon raspberry go very well together. It’s one of our most popular sellers. Perhaps you’d be interested in that?”

Akechi watches Akira for a long moment before looking up and saying evenly, “We better not. It’s easier to keep them separate from each other. He prefers the raspberry. We’ll take raspberry for the bottom half layers and lemon for the top half. Your largest, most impressive design. The more extravagant, the better. Charge this card,” he hands out his own. “It doesn’t matter about the price. Money is no object.”

“G-Goro,” Akira chokes violently again, bowing his head into his water glass as he sputters and hacks away.

The chef smiles brightly into the shiny gold card and nods. “We can most certainly do that. If you could fill out the form to confirm with us the pickup date, that’d be marvelous.” He slides the forms over to Akechi and runs off to charge the card before he can change his mind.

“I can’t believe you!” Akira exclaims, tossing both hands in the air. His face is cherry red. “Sumi and I had it! Her dad’s providing the venue, the catering, the music, and then you said you’d get the honeymoon...the cake was the only thing we had! Now we look useless!”

Akechi waves him away like a fly on a hot day. “What a tragedy. You’re loved.”

“It’s not about that, I’m just starting to feel a little weird about it all... I have money saved up for all this stuff, you know. I’m not that kid anymore: the one you’re so deathly worried about tripping and falling on his dumb face. I can afford my own wedding cake.”

Akechi laughs softly beneath his breath. “Are you not? You sure were stumbling over your words pretty severely a second ago. I was wondering if you knew how to order anything at all.”

“Augh, Goro. You know why! I just hate feeling like you think I’m an idiot who can’t take of anything! You always come in to rescue me.”

“Look. That’s not it.” Akechi sighs heavily. “I know you can afford all this stuff, it’s not about you being capable of it, but I promised your mother I’d take care of you. She would have loved to have been here with you...seeing you grow like this. She would’ve wanted to spoil you, to make you feel supported and loved and surrounded by good things, but she can’t. So allow me to in her stead. I’m like your brother, right?” He fingers the top of his glass and then takes a sip.

“W-well... But...”

“How about this? If I ever marry, I’ll allow you to get my cake.” Not that that’ll ever happen, so it’s a moot point.

“Will you?” Akira lets out a nervous laugh, but he’s finally starting to settle from the fork incident. His eyes still flit to the offending fork though, he’s still thinking about it. “God, that was embarrassing... What the fuck is wrong with me? Haven’t fucked up talking that badly in a long time. I’m fucking losing it.”

Akechi snorts into his hand, watching Akira fondly. “I can tell what you were trying very hard not to think about.”

“Oh, god... I wasn’t. The cake guy just said it. And I was like, ‘Akira, don’t say it’, and then I just couldn’t stop fucking sayinnnng iiiiit... ‘Oh yes, kind sir, I do love cock’.” He looks up out of his tunnel of horror and makes a face when he sees Akechi’s. He grabs a napkin, balls it up, and tosses it at Akechi’s face. “Fucker. Enjoying my pain.” But his voice is so warm.

Akechi laughs, feeling light and happy.

That big reaction was really something, it sent butterflies fluttering merrily in Akechi’s stomach. Akira was affected by him. He made critical error after critical error because of how affected he was. And Akira isn’t one to stumble.

Akechi likes seeing him so vulnerable. And Akechi loves having Akira’s full attention on him. He almost forgot what it felt like. It’s like lightning sparking beneath his flesh, an energy, a life force crackling and pulsing, invigorating his spirit and Akechi can’t help but think...

What if this were everyday? What if he were Akira’s full time partner in crime? What if Akira was his groom? And it was okay to think about Akechi’s cock and being bent over? They could just choose raspberry and forgot the fucking lemon. Who needs sunlight anyway, when you can adapt to the dark?

What if there was no ‘I’ll get this, you’ll get that’ sort of exchange? What if they just shared...?

What if Akira were all his...and only his...? Tied up and spread open over his bed, where Yoshizawa could never touch him again. Bound in the dark, writhing with ecstasy delivered only by Akechi’s slowly exploring hand. Akira, wanting to beg for more, but unable to around the gag. Needing more cock. Faster cock. Akechi’s cock. As it slowly presses into his body and consumes him at a pace he feels he cannot bear... Eyes rolling back deliriously into his head...as his walls spasm and twitch over Akechi... Helpless. So helpless... Nothing within his control, everything decided and done upon him by Akechi and only Akechi.

“Goro?”

Akechi startles, looking up. “Hm?”

Akira tilts his head, shooting him a suspicious smile. He leans into his hands as he gazes deeply into Akechi’s face. “What was that?”

“What was what?”

“That look on your face. It was...pretty damn dark.”

“Oh. I’m not sure...” He gathers the forms and sorts them together. “I was thinking...your baking isn’t too far off, Akira. I bet you could make a fortune with a good cake business. You’re so good at it, have you ever considered doing something like that on the side? Could be fun.”

Akira tilts his neck back, eyes focused on Akechi’s face. He strokes his chin thoughtfully. “No, you weren’t. That’s not what you were thinking about.”

Akechi gives a small laugh. “Then what was I thinking about, O Magical Mind Reader?”

“Hmm, dunno, but I’m onto you. Very. Suspicious.”

“Alright.”

“You looked like you wanted to...I dunno, fuck shit up or something.”

“Vague, but probably true.”

“Your eyes were kinda all...wired and crazed.”

“Aren’t they always?”

“Yeah, but they were dark. Like...oooh, vampires draining their helpless victims’ blood after they seduce them into an alleyway kind of dark. When they bite and inject their venom, they fill their victim’s bodies with irresistible pleasure to render them immobile and pliant and obedient and then feed on them before disappearing their emptied bodies without even burying them. That kind of dark.”

Akechi twitches. “That’s enough, I think.”

Akira bursts out laughing. “Too close to the truth for you? Are you the secret vampire?”

“You have quite the imagination.”

“You do have weirdly sharp canines. Am I in danger here?”

“The longer you talk, yes.”

As Akira giggles away, the chef returns with Akechi’s card and a large grin on his face. “Here we are. Is there anything else we can get you today?”

“Actually, yes. I was wondering,” Akechi says, gesturing to Akira, “his lovely bride was too ill to come here today, I’m afraid, but she’s been wanting to try this place so very badly. Would it be possible to get some testers wrapped in to-go boxes for her? She would so appreciate it.”

“Oh, that might be quite a bit extra...”

Akechi smiles sickeningly brightly, sticking his pointer finger to the center of his golden card and sliding it across the table.

The chef merrily bustles away.

Akira has his eyebrows raised as he looks to Akechi. “...That was super nice of you...”

“I am very nice.”

He snorts, tilting his head to get a better look. “Not to rock the boat or anything, but...what’s up with this change? I noticed you’re calling her by her first name too all the sudden. Did you have an epiphany or something?”

“No change,” Akechi says, flipping his hair over his shoulder as he recrosses his legs. “I’m just working on being a very nice, very kind best man for you. No more being an asshole for me. That’s another one of my wedding gifts to you. What do you think? Is it working?”

Akira gives a wickedly amused smile, eyes sparking. “...Yes. I love it. Thank you, Goro. It means a lot.”

“Oh, good. I was hoping if we relieve your stress enough, you’ll get your cock back. That’s the end game, really. Mission: Retrieve Akira’s Cock. Then you’ll be extra happy.”

“Goro,” Akira chokes and laughs at the same time. He looks around at the filled booths and back to Akechi. “Don’t say that so loud! Asshole.”

“Shoot. There goes that one.” Akechi grins cheekily at him, leaning his chin into his hand and humming.

Akira watches on in wonder. He feels it too. What used to be, what still could be. It’s so strong between them, so real. No one else in the world could make the other feel like this. They’re special together, just like this. They don’t even have to do anything but just be together.

Choose me, Akechi wants to say, but he lowers his eyelashes instead, drawing idle patterns on the table with his finger. Akira’s never seemed this happy before...and he shouldn’t be fooled, it isn’t because of him, it’s because of a certain little redhead.

Akira bites at his lip for a moment as he stares Akechi down, eyes going deep and thoughtful. Whatever he’s thinking about, he decides on.

Akira leans forward, licking his lips nervously. “So...I wasn’t going to ask you to do this at first, but...but I mean... It’s your choice. Totally your choice. But, for the wedding. We’ve hired a live quartet and we listened to their previews and they were nice. They were really nice, but um...” Akira breaks off eye contact and starts picking at his fingers. “It got me thinking. Remember when your mom and I used to sing? And you had that really shitty violin that like...I swear you didn’t even have all the strings for it. And it probably wasn’t even tuned right, but... It didn’t matter back then, you know? It was... When I think back to our past, most everything’s coated in so much sorrow. I don’t like thinking about it. The second I do, I start to cry,” he laughs weakly, but it’s true. His eyes are already getting watery.

He sniffs roughly and brushes his hair out of his eyes. “But that’s still one of the few things left that, when I think back on it...it’s just...it’s us, you know? Your mom. And you. And me. It’s raining outside. And it’s cold. But we’re huddled in together and we’re so warm, making music, singing and playing all of our troubles away. You always looked so free and bright when you played and your mom was so happy... We were in a terrible situation back then, but I felt so safe squeezed between the two of you...” He takes a big shaky breath. “Your mother could’ve just sent me on my way. She already had enough to worry about trying to take care of you with the limited funds she already had, but...you guys took me in. You didn’t complain at all, you welcomed me. Treated me like I belonged beside you. And it meant so much to me...

“I miss her so much... I miss them both so much. I really thought they’d be here, when the time came and...I know she’s gone. But what if...” He takes a deep breath, begins picking harder as he rocks back in his seat, feet coming up onto the bench. “You can say no. You can totally say no. But what if...you and I played that song at the wedding... Together. What if we went back to that space that night, you and me and no one else. On a night that’s supposed to be the most important of my life, I think that’d be...perfect. It honestly couldn’t be more perfect than that. It has to be you. It can’t be anyone else. But you can say no. Really. I only want it if you want it, and if you don’t, then I would never want to try to force you to do something like this. Just...I thought it wouldn’t hurt...to ask. Be my little violin boy one more time?” He finally dares to look up. “What do you think?”

Akechi watched Akira nervously pick away at himself during the whole rambling speech. Akira wasn’t going to ask...because it meant too much to him. Akechi isn’t ever one to deny Akira, but it wasn’t about that. It was about speaking his vulnerability aloud. They can never dare to bring their past love back, but what if...for a few minutes more, they desperately try?

Warm melancholy circles around in Akechi’s chest, slow, pulling at the dark hole there, but not quite draining in. He takes a long deep breath and says unsteadily back, “...I...I haven’t played since my mother —”

“Right,” Akira says quickly, shoving his feet back down to the ground and looking away quickly. “Right. Yeah. Don’t worry about it. It’s a lot to ask. It’s going to be a whole crowd there and you hate crowds and they’ll all be watching and you hate when people watch you and you’re already doing the speech and...I totally get it. Yeah. Sorry. I shouldn’t have even asked —”

“Akira, wait. I didn’t say no. I just...” He runs his fingertips over his cheek as he thinks about it. “I don’t even know the name of the song.”

“I found it,” Akira says immediately. He pulls his phone out and slides it across the table, his eyes wide with youthful excitement. “I had the lyrics pretty wrong,” he laughs faintly, “so it took a bit of work, but they have the sheet music and...and... You don’t have to.”

Akechi bites at his lip as he flips through the sheet music and presses play. He sits back and listens, the melody transporting him back. Akira’s there, leaning over Akechi’s shoulder, messing with the violin’s bow as Akechi tries to swat him away. Little does he know, his mother is standing right behind them and she leans over, taking the bow right out of his hand and tapping him on the head with it, chastising him for using a piece of art for violence. ...A bit of a hypocrite if you ask him, but he can’t help but smile at the memory.

He gives a small puff of a laugh as he rubs a hand over his face. “...It does remind me of her. It feels like she’s with us right now, doesn’t it? In this very room.”

“Yes,” Akira whispers softly. His nose is red. His eyes are wet. He presses his hands to his face and keeps them there.

“Hmmm.” Akechi watches Akira get emotional. He was always the baby, the sweetheart, the precious one. And he still is. “Let me think about it. I’m not keen on making a fool of myself in front of all your guests, but...I can see her singing at your wedding. She would’ve loved to. And if she can’t anymore, maybe a part of her still can...through me. ...I do want to give that to you.”

“Yeah?” Akira asks softly, his wet pretty eyes going twinkling. “Really? Just think about it. That’s all I ask. It doesn’t have to be Mozart level, it can be just rubbing two strings together. I don’t care how it sounds. I just thought...I dunno, I wanted you to play. It might be nice.”

“It does sound nice. I can be like Wallace Hartley as the Titanic went down. Nearer, My God, to Thee.”

“What?”

“It’s nothing, Akira. My mother wanted me to take care of you, so I will. It’s one of the last things she asked me to do.”

Akira gives a faint laugh. “...I was pretty hopeless, huh? She always knew you were the one who had it all together.” Akira smiles crookedly as he watches Akechi. “...She asked me too, you know. To take care of you.”

Akechi blinks. “She-she did?”

“Mmmhmmm. What? Did you think she only loved me or something? She worried about you too. All the time, whenever she thought you weren’t looking. Not because you needed it, just because she loved you and wanted you safe...like I do.”

“But I was...fine.” That wasn’t in his cards. He was...together. He was independent. He took care of her. He didn’t need anyone else. He had it all handled. He does.

Akira chuckles into his hand as he watches Akechi have a silent meltdown. “You were. You are. I mean, look at us now.” He tosses both arms out. “At The Cat’s Meow! Finest cake place in the entire city, maybe more! Doing pretty fine, if you ask me! She’d fucking love this place!”

Akechi gives a faint laugh, looking around with Akira. ...Look at them now. It’s true though. He takes places like these for granted, but, fifteen years ago, they wouldn’t have dreamed of being able to afford a several-tiered wedding cake at a specialty cake store. Their mothers wouldn’t have either. It would’ve been sheet cake from the market for them, at best, and it would’ve most likely tasted like shit. Akira and Akechi would’ve had to scrape the funds together between the both of them and live off ketchup packets warmed up in water for a week to pay for it or something equally as horrendous and depressing.

What would his mother think of them now? It is a rather uplifting question on the surface, so Akechi tries to not let himself look any deeper than that.

The chef comes back with a to-go bag and, after many thank yous and incredibly bright smiles from the man, they are free to leave.

Akira scoots out of the booth and then loops his arm through Akechi’s, dragging him up and out the door. “Cake down!” He crows merrily into the sky. “That was a big one! We’re basically ready to go now.”

“All a wedding needs is a cake?”

“Pretty sure. What else?”

Akechi shrugs easily, being led around by Akira and his excitement. It’s nice. The sun is shining. The skies are blue. And Akira is happy. So Akechi is happy.

“Thanks for coming with me today, seriously. You saved my butt. We were all in a panic this morning when you wouldn’t answer. I thought I’d have to go alone. I hate doing things alone.”

Akechi snorts. “For someone so cool, sometimes you can be so lame.”

“Well. When things get too quiet, I start hearing it, you know...? That closet.”

“Ah.”

“When I’m alone, it feels like death... I can hear how fragile everything is and...how this can all just...disappear in a second... It has before...” He mutters lowly and then shakes himself, voice brightening. “Anyway! Can’t believe Sumi got sick last night of all nights. Talk about timing. I’m starting to think this wedding is cursed.”

Akechi watches Akira for a moment longer before allowing him to divert. “Why else?”

“Well, I mean...” Akira flicks an uneasy look at Akechi, eyes flitting down the length of his body, stopping at his crotch, before diving his head into his phone and texting quickly. “I just...” He sighs and scratches roughly over his scalp. “Mind a quick stop? I wanted to swing by the pharmacy to get some meds for Sumi.”

“Sure,” Akechi says, a bit dazed from Akira’s heated dark gaze raking over his body. “Lead the way.” His body is tingling. He lets Akira drag him forward by the arm, floating along the ground.

Are they teenagers again? It certainly feels like it. It’s been a while since Akechi’s strolled casually through the city. There’s something in the string lights hanging over the streets, the quaint little lamp posts, the colorful flower planters. He forgets sometimes how beautiful it is outside. He still hates people, but he likes how Akira likes them. Akira smiles and greets those nearby like the world is his friend. He never used to. Even at the start of high school, he was still distrustful and cautious, like he had one hand behind his back on his dagger. The change is nice. Growth.

Maybe Akira’s right all those times he tells Akechi he needs to go out for a walk or two and things will get better. Maybe if he did it Akira’s way, things would.

Akira’s busy texting Yoshizawa, frowning away into his screen, so Akechi decides to slip his own phone out and lets this newfound inspiration do its work.

Outdoors equals scenery equals ocean equals sea creatures equals soft equals fuckable equals...

Akira leans over his shoulder. “Who are you texting?”

“Ordering large glass panels,” he hums thoughtfully as he scrolls through his options. “What about you?”

“Sorry, I’m done. Sumi’s just telling me about her newest bathroom episode. She’s having issues keeping anything inside of her one way or the other. She says she’s doing ‘a-okay!’ and not to worry about her, but she had to call Kas over so I think she’s downplaying it...”

“Kas?”

“Kasumi,” Akira snorts. “What are you ordering glass panels for?”

“Not entirely sure yet. Just felt inspired suddenly. I was thinking...some sort of aquatic tank... You’ll see it when I finish it.”

“Oooh, cool, like the paludarium you got me from your trip? I’ve gotta say, I think that’s the coolest thing we own. We love that thing. The starfish Arsène caught are so adorable, we’ve already named half of them -- there’s a Goro and an Arsène. And did you know live sand dollars move?”

“Mmhmm.”

“They crawl all over the place! They’re honestly a lot faster than I thought considering...well, I thought they didn’t move at all. What on earth are you going to put in a tank this size though? Should we go off and catch some mermaids for it? Those panels are gigantic.”

Akechi tilts his head thoughtfully to the side before he tosses over a crooked grin. “I like that. Mermaids. Yes, I’ll have to catch myself one...”

“I want to see when you do. Are you going to keep it like a pet?”

“Oh, yes. Oh, I like that idea.”

Akira laughs and turns them into the pharmacy. He makes a beeline straight for the stomach meds.

“Aren’t you supposed to let food poisoning run its course?” Akechi crosses his arms as Akira crouches down to stare at the shelving. “Your body is trying to evacuate what’s inside for a reason. If you stop it up, you keep the poison within you.”

“Uhhh. I dunno,” Akira mutters, looking down at it all. He grabs several boxes into his hand. “If you saw what I had to see last night, you might not be saying that. I’m not sure what she wants, so I was just going to grab it all. Medicine doesn’t go old, right? I think I heard that somewhere...”

Akechi sighs. He’s feeling antsy for some reason and he doesn’t know why. No one is there for him when he has food poisoning, but whatever. He was just throwing up and weak from despair the other day and no one gave a single shit. It was cold on the floor. By the time he pulled himself up, his lips were blue. He rolls his eyes. “Try the electrolytes at least. You’ll want to keep her hydrated.”

Akira smiles to the side at Akechi. “That’s a good idea. Thanks, Mom.” Akira gets back to his feet and looks around. “Do you need anything while we’re here? On me.”

“Not likely. I, for one, am not evacuating all contents from both ends. Besides, you know Arsène is the one who does all the boring shopping. I can’t be bothered.”

“Rich people. You’re such a snob.” Akira walks to the next aisle over and scratches roughly at his scalp for a moment. “Turn around?”

“Excuse me?”

Akira grabs Akechi by the shoulders and wheels him around. He pats him. “Stay.”

Of course Akechi looks back immediately. Akira turns and stops a bit too casually in front of the condoms. “Stop looking! Bad dog, bad dog!” He hisses, flicking a finger toward Akechi’s face. “It’s embarrassing!”

“Oh, please. You just told me she took you over a table the other day, I did take you over the table, and now you’re worried about —”

“Goro! Please. We’re in public.”

“Fine,” Akechi grumbles. He recrosses his arms and pretends to look over at something in the other direction, even though he can still see from his peripheral.

Ahh...Akira’s grabbing the extra large. Akechi thought so, but he’s pleased to know he’s correct. He’s even more pleased when Akira kneels and shifts through the different boxes of lube. Akechi rubs at his arms in what he means to be a warning for them to calm the fuck down, but the touch just excites him further. Akechi knows whom it’s being bought for, but he tries to focus on what it’ll be on, instead. And what a wonderful thing, indeed...

Akira’s caring for his cock and that’s kind of nice.

“Alright. I’m ready if you are.” Akira nudges him toward the checkout counter, subtly slipping his condoms and lube behind the stomach meds.

“Hmm.” He leans into the packages in Akira’s arms and starts filing through them, grabbing at the lube and taking it out. He ignores Akira’s squawk of protest. “Is this a good brand? Ah, heated. And flavored. I know what you’ll be doing tonight.”

Akira gurgles and snatches it back, shuffling it away hastily. “Goro.”

“I thought women didn’t need lube.”

He darts a look over his shoulder, peering into the next aisle to make sure they’re alone. “Are we really going to talk about this?”

“I’m only curious. I’ve never been with a woman before, so I don’t know. Unless it’s not for her again, but for you instead. Did you end up liking it? Pegging, is it called?”

Akira shushes him and presses in, whispering frantically, “Goro, jesus, when did you get so open about this? No. No, it’s not — I didn’t like doing that with her, okay?”

“Really? Color me intrigued. Whyever not?”

“I don’t know. It was just...really fucking awkward and really uncomfortable and did literally nothing for me.”

“How did you do it? Bent on all fours?”

“Oh my god,” Akira wheezes softly, looking over his shoulder again like the police are coming. “Yes. I had to lay over our dining room table on my stomach with my legs hanging over the end. I hung on for dear fucking life as she took me from behind, my face pressed into the wood, are you happy? Couldn’t get hard. Didn’t even twitch. I was fucking miserable.”

“Hmmm. Did she like it?”

“I don’t know. Anyway, the lube is for her, not me. Sometimes she’s uncomfortable.”

He lifts his eyebrows. “Sounds to me like there’s a lot of discomfort on both of your parts during intimacy. Is that normal? Is it because you’re so big?”

Akira sighs, nose and cheeks red. “What is your deal today? I’d really rather we not talk about this. You’ve got your fucking science face on and it’s fucking disturbing. I feel like you’re x-raying me.”

“As I recall, you liked that.”

“Goro.”

“Fine. Okay. Only curious. I’d heard women produce their own natural lube and I’ve never exactly had anyone else to ask about it, so I wondered what it was like.”

“They do, it’s just...ugh. They do. It’s really...slick. Kinda like our own pre-cum, and there’s usually a lot of it but it’s difficult anyway because she’s...small. And I’m... We’re not... There are different sizes and we happen to struggle...”

“There are different sized vaginas?” Akechi’s eyebrows raise and presses a dainty finger to his jawline in intrigue. He had no idea.

“Yes. I mean, there are different sized and shaped cocks, aren’t there? We’re not the same. N-not that I think about that...” He wipes a hand over his face. “Some people could take me. Sumi...struggles. But extra lube helps, so...” He nudges the lube box up and raises his eyebrows.

So they’re not compatible is what Akechi is hearing. He tries to hide the cat-like smile from claiming his face. “Intriguing. I had no idea.”

Akira rolls his eyes and shoves Akechi’s face away with his hand. “That smile on your face is greatly disturbing to me.”

Akechi laughs low and deep. “What else don’t I know?”

“I dunno. Probably a fucking lot. Have you ever...? I mean, I know not with a woman, but...ever ever.”

Akechi shakes his head. “You’re my first.”

Akira looks away with the oddest, most unbalanced look on his face. He nearly drops the basket in his hand and has to catch it mid-air, sloshing everything everywhere. “What? Y-you’ve never?! Surely you’ve messed around with someone.”

“Besides you, no.” Arsène isn’t human so he probably doesn’t count in Akira’s book.

“But — ...Really? That was — But it was like you — Then how did you make me come so hard?! And multiple times — !! I couldn’t even think after, it’s like you eviscerated my brain — How could you have not — ” He exhales sharply. “Let’s not talk about this.”

“Alright.”

“I just...” Akira gives a small uneasy laugh. “I can’t believe you’ve never... I mean, I know you’ve never been in a full relationship, but people have always been very interested in you and I just assumed... I mean...I guess you’re asexual, it’s just... The way you came at me. God, I dunno. And then against the window, how you pinned my head, it was so —” He shudders. Whispers. “...Possessive.”

Akechi inspects his nails. “Is it not normally like that?”

“Oh, god, no. No, no, no. I can’t believe you’re asking. Fuck. If I’d known... Well, I don’t know. I’m just shocked. Why are you so good at everything? It isn’t fair.”

“Felt normal to me.”

“Oh my god. I’m not getting through to you, am I? I feel a bit like a father giving his preteen a sex talk or something and fucking the whole thing up. Our fathers never tried.”

“No.”

“Did your mother?”

“Are you kidding me? You knew her. I’m shocked she even talked to you about me. Did yours?”

“Sort of. She said when I meet someone special...” He bites at his lip and looks away. “Never let them go.”

Akechi frowns. “Gross. That’s not a sex talk. That is the least sexy talk I’ve ever had the misfortune of hearing.”

“She elaborated from there.”

“Let me guess: use lots of lube when you meet a girl with a vagina way too small for your giant meaty cock? Legendary size, Akira. Legendary!”

Akira’s face immediately goes defensive. He scowls. “...Goro, don’t make me regret sharing this with you. It’s kind of a sensitive topic for us. When something that’s supposed to be one of the highlights of a relationship is wrapped in a layer of pain, it’s just —” He sighs unhappily. “Not always so great. And I swear to god, if you mention to Sumi that I told you any of this, I am going to literally murder you.”

“Literally?” Akechi smirks, tossing a playful look at Akira. “You just gave me so much ammunition.”

“Goro. I’m not kidding! You know how sensitive she is! This isn’t her fault! She’s really trying her best! We both are. It still feels good, by the way. It’s just...we have to work on it. Please don’t bring it up in front of her. I’m serious, Goro.”

“Don’t worry, don’t worry. I would never want to hurt you. You know that, don’t you?”

Akira stares at Akechi’s face for a long time before softening. “Yeah. I know, Goro. But I also know you aren’t Sumi’s number one fan...and this would really hurt her.”

Akechi sighs. And then smirks. “Like the pegging hurt you...?”

“You’re trouble.” Akira rolls his eyes and shoves Akechi. “I wish I never mentioned that.”

He laughs and holds up his hands in surrender. “No shame. I’ve heard great things about pegging, honestly, and I commend you on your brilliantly open mind. Not every heterosexual man is brave enough to give it a go. Toxic masculinity and all that. But not you! Bravo, Akira.”

“Shut up.”

“I mean it! I was just wondering...” He hesitates and then dives in. “How it compares to really getting fucked. You know,” he breathes in his ear, hand curling tight over his arm. “With the real thing...”

Something changes in the air between them and Akechi realizes too late that he made a grave misstep. He thought he could slide it in as a joke, but he wasn’t really joking and Akira knows that. He flew too close to the wonderful brilliant sun.

“Did you really just ask me that?” Akira’s voice is low and breathless.

Akechi is too much of a coward to look at his face. He shuffles away, turning his body toward the shelving and touching boxes he doesn’t really see. “I... I’m sorry. You’re right. I shouldn’t have. We agreed not to speak about it.”

“We did.”

“Yes. Then we should continue not speaking about it. My apologies. I got carried away.” He tugs his shirt sharply, trying to sort something within his control back into order. “...My apologies.”

Silence settles over them and Akechi bites at his lip. He knew he was pushing Akira, but he couldn’t help it. Each new sentence about Akira’s sexual endeavors lit Akechi’s curiosity and love for him and his leather-cladden body. It wasn’t his fault that he got caught in this lust-driven frenzy, he just couldn’t help himself...

But Akira did make him promise. And he did it in order to save their relationship, because a cheater and a homewrecker has no place at Akira’s side. They’ve been toeing a very dangerous line together... Akira gave Akechi a merciful free pass in order to keep him and Akechi is tearing it up just to tease, to dig, to satisfy his hunger.

He needs to control himself before he loses Akira forever. And he will, at this rate. Pushed into the back of a closet, waiting for someone to come save him who never will. Because he’ll be alone, like death. Cold. And ugly. And hateful. And grey. And...

“A-Akira, I’m sorry,” he says lowly, swallowing hard. “Let’s just...checkout and go home. I-I’m really... I’m sorry. Let’s go.” He races quickly away and out the aisle. He bypasses the checkout and pushes his way into the fresh air, inhaling shakily.

Fuck. He dove in too deep. He just...wants. And it’s so easy with Akira being right here, looking like that, smelling so heady and familiar and his. It’s fucking criminal. Akira was made just for him, can’t he see? And Akechi for him. He can take Akira. Even if he couldn’t, he’d force himself. Akira could do whatever he wants to him! Who cares if it hurts?

But it doesn’t matter because Akira doesn’t choose it.

Eventually, Akira comes out with his items in a bag, face carefully even as he steps in beside Akechi. His shadow swallows up the pavement and settles over Akechi’s shoes.

“You coming?” Akira asks.

Akechi follows. Of course he does.

The way back to the motorcycle is quiet. The brightness and freedom Akechi felt on the way here has been completely quelled. Even though the streets are still relatively full with people, all he can hear is the darkness of the sun preparing to set, of a day winding down. He’ll have to sit behind Akira, straddle him from behind and hold on in order to get home. The thought sounds like torture. He wonders if it’d be kinder to the both of them to call Arsène to pick him up instead. Or will that just hurt more what has already been so damaged?

Akira stares out at the setting sun with an odd dark look on his face. Akechi isn’t used to it, can’t read it. Doesn’t know where they are or what to do, treading in uncharted territory.

When he speaks, his voice is surprisingly soft. “...You actually look our age dressed like that. I’ve gotten so used to Arsène dressing you, I forgot what it was like.”

Akechi stares after Akira for a long moment before looking down at his shirt. It’s just a regular old t-shirt. He hadn’t noticed it when Akira tossed it to him, but now that he thinks about it, he realizes it’s one of the many shirts Akira has left around his place. It’s become so frequent, instead of returning them, he just keeps them. As payment. As reward. “Do I normally look old to you?”

“No. You usually just look...I dunno. Unobtainable. Like a king or a celebrity. This way you just look...like Goro. It’s a good thing.”

Akechi’s quiet.

Akira turns to him with an odd smile on his face. His features are shadowed in the evening’s setting sun. He opens his mouth with a soft inhale to say something, and it looks like there are so many things he wants to say, but then he stops himself. Scratches at his forehead. Exhales, “...We should keep going. I need to get this cake in the fridge before it goes bad. Sumi really wanted to try it.”

“Oh. Right.”

But they hadn’t actually stopped walking and they don’t walk any faster now. Akira bites away at his lip and picks at the insides of his fingers. It seems like Akechi ruined a perfectly good day and made the nostalgic ease between them break. If only he could go back and stop himself from pushing, but maybe that’s just how things go between them now. A brief brilliant moment of joy followed by the rollout of an inevitable payment of hurt. That does sound like his life.

Akira’s not often this quiet and contemplative. It’s uncomfortable. It makes Akechi uneasy.

The closet door. The astral observatory they stand at together, hand in hand, staring at the other in pained understanding. The Velvet Room and Akira’s shuddering sobs.

Akira at the altar, saying goodbye.

“...There’s no comparison.”

Akechi whirls so fast to look at Akira, he cracks his neck. “What?”

“...You asked about how pegging felt versus your cock. And I said...there’s no comparison.”

“I...I was the one to suggest Sumi try to take me,” Akira says, eyelashes fluttering to the ground. His voice is low and defeated. “It wasn’t her. She didn’t even want to, at first, it scared her. I thought... When you did it, I...I’d never felt so good before.” He swallows hard. “I thought maybe that would do it...but it wasn’t even remotely the same. It was static and lifeless inside me. Her hands were small on my back and she was hesitant and worried about hurting me and I needed... I wanted to be treated...” Akira exhales sharply, voice growing dark and gravelly. “As she had me over that table, your fucking flowers rattling over my head, I knew. I knew it wasn’t her I wanted pressing me down... It wasn’t her I wanted inside of me. And it wasn’t the cock that mattered or her gender or what. It was you. You fucked me up, Goro, that night, over the study’s desk! You really did. I’ve never felt like that before!! And I just... Whenever she touches me now, I just — I don’t want it.”

Akechi stares, dumbfounded.

“I’ve been so mad at you...” Akira pushes both hands into his face and heaves. “Absolutely furious! Because you always do that to me! My life was perfect! It was everything I’d ever wanted and more!! I was confident in it, secure in it, and then you just...you barely had to do anything and now, the whole game’s different. After seven years, in a half hour, everything just... It’s changed and now I don’t know how to make it go back!”

Akechi isn’t sure if it’s horror or what he feels. “I-I didn’t mean —”

“When she was inside of me, I just kept thinking...I want it to be you.”

“Wha —”

“I wanted your cock! I wanted your fingers! I wanted you.”

“Akira.”

“You ruined me.” Akira’s image is hot and burning, swallowed by the sunset behind him.

Akechi stands there, stupid.

“You ruined me for anyone else.”

Akechi opens and closes his mouth, meaning to say something helpful for either of them but he can’t think of any words. None at all. A supposed genius, that’s what they always call him, and here’s his chance, but his mind is absolutely blank. He stands there like an idiot, staring with his mouth hanging open at the man he loves, who’s watching back in turmoil, asking for answers.

He waits too long. Akira gives him one last wounded look before he turns his head and walks on, faster this time.

“...Wait,” Akechi finally says, running to catch up. “Akira, wait up!”

“I’m going to fix it,” Akira says, not looking at Akechi. “Somehow. I’m going to make love to Sumi again, and...and we’ll have a family and...the future I thought I’d have...I’m going to have it. We’ll be happy. We’ll all be happy.”

Akechi nods quickly, enthusiastically. “Yes. Of course you will.”

“This is just...temporary. A minor hiccup. Nothing big. Everything will go back to normal and we’ll laugh about it one day.”

“Yes. Definitely.”

“I... I’m sorry I unloaded all this on you. These are my thoughts and desires and my responsibility, it isn’t your fault. I didn’t mean to ever speak it aloud and burden you with it too. Please just forget all this.”

“Done.”

“I just...I feel so guilty,” Akira whispers lowly, his face catching the evening’s shadows as he stares into Akechi’s eyes, his own glinting in the heat. “For hurting you over this. For betraying Sumi with these thoughts, for cheating on her. It doesn’t make any sense when I say I cannot stop myself. It’s like some sort of magic spell is cast and I’m helpless to it. I want to even now! Right now!” He wheezes unsteadily, eyes flicking down Akechi’s body and staring there, stunned and in awe. He teeters forward...then tears his eyes away with an effort that looks physically painful. He stumbles back, turning the other way and shouting into the air. “I just want it to stop!! I can’t give either of you what you want and I don’t know what to do! I feel like I’m going insane. This is all my fault. I don’t know what to do!”

“Akira,” Akechi says lowly, his voice dripping with all his empathy for him.

Akira turns, eyes wide and vulnerable as he stares straight at Akechi. “I don’t know why I feel this way about you...but I do. I can’t explain any of this. It terrifies me.”

Present tense. Akechi licks his lips hesitantly. “It isn’t your fault,” he says, voice soft. “...Every relationship is going to have hardships. This just happens to be one of them. But...when you find the one you love, you never let them go, right? No matter what...and this is the what. You don’t give up on them, even if it’s painful, even if what you have to do for them is...batshit insane. You love them and you don’t let go. And you love her, you’re always telling me that, so...”

Akira looks at Akechi with another one of those new looks that Akechi cannot, for the life of him, figure out. His brow is wrinkled and his eyes seem so sad, but he stares at Akechi with an intensity that almost burns. It’s like he wants Akechi to do...something. But Akechi isn’t sure what that something is.

He narrows his eyes in return, taking a careful half step back and spreading his hand over his chest. “What? Why are you looking at me like that?”

In the middle of the evening’s flames, Akira’s eyes are somehow still, bright, moonlit. He looks surreal, burning up, ethereal. “...I was thinking about the high school parking lot. You — It was always — You always try to say the right thing. You do. But it’s never what you... I don’t think you —”

Akechi watches Akira shiver, odd delicate expressions flitting over his face only to leave just as quickly. He can’t finish. Akira breaks off and turns, ducking through the nearest door, a mom and pop stationery store.

Akechi pushes through an archway of flowers, hastily says hello to the shopkeeper, and hunts Akira down at the end of an aisle.

“What are you doing?” Akechi asks beneath his voice, staring at the shelf Akira’s gripping to like his life depends on it. Little waving angel statues in flower crowns. He shoves them to the side so they can’t look at them.

“Dunno,” Akira sniffs, whirling around and rubbing at his face. “Hiding, I think. I feel really hot. My head’s burning. I don’t want to be here anymore.”

Akechi sighs, looking back toward the shopkeeper, who can’t seem to see them over here. There’s a family in the next aisle over, the husband looking over the top and watching them, caught onto their drama. Akechi turns Akira and says into their private bubble. “What were you going to say? About the parking lot?”

Akira doesn’t look him in the eyes. He waves his hands in front of his face and pleads. “No, I don’t know. Goro, I can’t do this... I can’t ruin this. I’m happy. And we both know happiness is so fucking fleeting for people like us...”

“Just tell me. We don’t have to do anything about it, I’ll pretend I haven’t heard a thing. But please, Akira, what were you going to say about the parking lot? I need to know. It’s important.”

“No. No, no, no, no,” he begs into his hands, shaking his head, his curls falling as he sags against the metal frame of the shelving. “No... I can’t ruin all this... I’m ruining it all... Oh, fuck... Anything I say or do is just going to hurt you more. And Sumi is so good. I can’t do this to her either... I’m trapped. I hate it all. I hate myself, I hate myself, I hate myself...”

“Akira.” Akechi breathes, trying to re-right Akira as he melts deeper into despair over the warm and cheery cards. “Shit. You’re okay, alright? Breathe.”

“Oh god... What have I done? What am I doing? I’m supposed to be getting married. I’m getting married, Goro...!”

Akechi grabs him by the collar and tugs. “I’m sorry. I won’t ask anymore, okay? I’ll leave it alone... You’re right. It wasn’t appropriate of me to ask, I’m sorry. Just take a deep breath. Everything’s okay.”

“Fuck,” Akira whimpers in a tiny voice. He peels his face out of his hands and looks into Akechi’s, desperate and small. “I think I’m freaking out.”

“Yes,” Akechi says, resigned. “You are. It’s alright, I’ve got you. Breathe, okay? Just breathe.” Akechi watches Akira. He has a lot of experience with this. At the darty way Akira can’t seem to focus on one spot. How he curls into himself, like he’s afraid of everything that’s out to hurt him. It all is. He’s all alone.

But he isn’t. Akechi grabs Akira by the chin and guides his face toward his, using his other hand to point at his own nose. “Hey. Look at me. Look right here. You’re safe. Nothing’s happening right now outside of you. I’m right here. I’m going to take care of everything, okay? I’m going to take care of you. You’re safe. You’re alright. I promise.”

Akira looks. He holds his gaze. Tiny jittering moonlight too blown wide to stay reflected on a still surface. He gives a faint nod. “...Yes.”

“Alright?” Akechi says firmly, not taking his eyes off Akira. He tries to convey all his sincerity through his gaze.

“Yes,” he says, but the words are barely audible. “You’re here. I’m okay. Yes.”

“That’s right. I’m right here.” Akechi lets out a breath and grabs him by the hand. “Let’s get you —”

The family in the aisle over begins to leave. In their own little world, the father speaks to his child as they make their way out, snapping his fingers — Eureka! They are rowdy and they are annoying and Akira needs peace. Akechi huffs.

“Ignore them, we’ll let them leave before us,” he murmurs, turning back to Akira.

Akira, who remains staring at Akechi. Only...his face has gone funny. Blank and empty. Eyes glazed. Akechi blinks into them.

A one-eighty from high panic, Akira’s voice is low and threaded with warm teased honey. “Yes, Master.” And he slides down to his knees, completely weak, skimming his face down Akechi’s chest, his abdomen. When he reaches Akechi’s crotch, he buries himself deep with a long gone groan, rubbing back and forth to nuzzle in closer. All of his weight sinks into Akechi, hot breath igniting, both palms spreading weakly over his hips like he’s surrendering. They slip beneath Akechi’s shirt and grab onto bare skin, his ass sticking out in the bend.

From Akechi’s vantage point up above, it looks like Akira’s bowing to him.

A very, very slutty bow.

Ruin me, it says. Ruin me MORE.

Akechi squeaks. His whole body stiffens, hands flying to Akira’s shoulders to brace him. Akechi realizes with a sharp gasp what the man in the other aisle just did. He snapped. Akira obeyed. “Th-that wasn’t me, that was someone else!” He hisses urgently, but he’s already feeling it, already growing hard at the touch, so it doesn’t seem like a very genuine protest at all.

“What do you want me to do, Master?” Akira breathes, dead-eyed and mindless. This is ridiculous. How did it work so well? Vulnerable as his mind was in the moment, he must’ve fallen way too hard. He just sits there, on his knees, staring up at him, waiting for his next cue.

Akechi is so stunned he cannot think of what is best for him or this situation, so he does the only thing that seems logical and gives Akira a sharp slap across the face. “Wake up.”

Akira’s head cracks to the side but he groans indulgently, tossing his neck back, bangs falling across his forehead. It was apparently just what he was wanting. To be treated how Yoshizawa does not treat him.

Akechi’s eyes go wider and he stares at the red mark growing across Akira’s face. “Uh...” It looks good. ...Really good...

“Yes...” Akira’s voice is deep gravel as he gazes lovingly up at Akechi. He clings desperately to Akechi’s pants, eyes dark with thick lust. “Harder... Make me feel it...” With a drowsy lean, he shoves his mouth right over Akechi’s cock indent over his pants and licks up the length of him.

“Akira.” Akechi chokes, doubling over him and grabbing at his hair. “We’re in public.”

“Want you,” Akira whispers in a heated frenzy, his hot breath whirling through the cotton of Akechi’s crotch, dancing over his sensitive cock. “I want you so bad, I’ve been thinking about you all afternoon long, I’m dying.”

“All afternoon?!” Akechi screeches. “But... Oh, shit,” Akechi breathes, handling Akira by the shoulders as a family steps by and glares in outraged horror. “H-he fell,” he calls before muttering to himself, “...right into my crotch.”

“I love you,” Akira’s mumbling drunkenly, both hands wandering until they find Akechi’s chest. He begins rolling his nipples and sighing happily. “I love you. Doesn’t that mean anything to you, Goro? Do you even love me back? You’ve felt so far away recently...you keep trying to take steps away from me and I hate that. I hate it so much. I just want to touch you, Goro. I’ve been needing to so badly for so long, I’m in agony... Sumi can’t give it to me, not like you can... It has to be you. I’ve been waiting for it for so long. It hurts. Won’t you love me too? You never say it back. Never ever... Goro...!” He gasps like he’s coming.

Akechi tilts his head and checks to see if he actually did. He doesn’t see anything, but...

His heart is racing, beating so hard that he can feel each pulse in his fingers aching and persisting — touch him back. His body is reacting, it’s tugging at his brain to join in after it, succumb, just feel. He wants to give in so badly, wants to surrender to Akira’s warmth, show him just how much he loves him, but...

“I know we shouldn’t...” Akira moans into his cock, rolling his face in it like catnip, mouth hanging open. “I know we shouldn’t, but...”

“UM. SIR.” The shopkeeper is standing at the end of the aisle in shock, hand pressed over their mouth. “YOU CAN’T BE HERE DOING THAT.”

Akechi is slapped back into reality, looking away from Akira’s lewd face like a deer in the headlights. God knows how long the shopkeeper has been watching them both entranced by the other. He quickly tugs Akira’s hands off his breasts, ignoring Akira’s wounded protest. He holds Akira up by both wrists in the air, overhead. “Oh! Yes, of course. I — Medical emergency. Uh. Akira, help me. Help me...”

Akira does not help him. Akechi scoops Akira up by the armpits and drags his dead weight out and into the nearby alleyway. Out of the bright warm stationary store, it’s quiet and dark and dingy down here. He brings them behind a giant trash bin, where it smells like wet stone and musty cardboard, but at least no one else can witness this. Only Akechi gets to see Akira like this.

Akira sags down weakly, cheeks red and overheated, sweat prickling over temple and brow. He smiles up at Akechi, hair artfully disheveled, looking positively delectable.

Akechi kneels slightly so he can get on his level. Nothing’s changed. This is like a panic attack, really. Hold firm and steady for Akira until he returns back to his body. This isn’t him. This isn’t him. He wants a family. A family Akechi can not give him. Hold. Hold.

Running both hands over Akira’s sweaty cheeks, he brushes his curly hair out of his eyes. “Deep breaths. You’re alright. It’ll pass. Concentrate on...uh...I dunno, London? Is that a thing?”

Akira grabs on with his other hand and smooshes his face into Akechi’s hands, groaning lowly. It’s a messy action. No thought, no gauged movement. He crams his cheeks and lips to Akechi’s fingers like he needs the friction to live. With each movement, he rubs the side of his knee against Akechi’s cock. Akechi can’t tell if it’s on purpose, but it’s making him absolutely insane. His body is beginning to vibrate, his knees are shaking and weakening. He grabs onto the wall for support. Closes his eyes and tries to get ahold of himself. Doesn’t know what else to do.

Hold.

Here he has Akira in his hands, inebriated and dying for sex. Akira started it. I want you, he said and, in so many different ways, Akechi’s drunk on his love too.

Better than Yoshizawa, Akira said...

She was nothing, he said...

A family. He wants a family.

“Goro,” Akira breathes hotly, his soft wet lips running over his fingerpads. The tip of his tongue flits out and he tastes the print of his finger. “Goro...”

Akira is bulging out of his pants, a huge erection prominent through the fabric of his tight black leather. It looks so uncomfortable...and so good. Akechi is helpless at the sight. Akira’s eyes are already hazed over with need, without care. ...He’d go over a table for Akechi. He stretches his hips out slowly, offering, as he runs his hand down over his cock, fingers splitting over the gigantic bulge. “Take it,” his voice is dark and hazy, echoing out of a dream. “Please.”

“Akira,” Akechi whispers, voice shaking. He can’t take his eyes away. “You just said... We just had a whole conversation... If I do what you’re asking, you’re going to kill me when you wake up. In the morning, you’re always upset with me. It’s ruining you, you said.”

“So ruin me. That other Akira isn’t me, he’s a liar. I want you.”

“...You do?” Akechi trembles weakly. He’s lightheaded, faint. He shakes his head quickly. “You want a family. With Yoshizawa. You’re getting married. And this is killing you. You don’t want to do this... Happiness is...it’s so fleeting...for us.”

“But what if I do.” Akira bites at his lip in an endearing little smolder. He’s still squeezing his own cock as he stares into Akechi’s soul, his eyes pinned on him like he’s the only one left in this world with him. “What if this is our happiness, Goro?”

It’s how it feels. It’s how Akechi feels all the time and now Akira’s here with him, in the same world. He isn’t alone right now. For once, Akira stands beside him, understanding.

No, no, no, no. He can be good. He can just take Akira in the nights, rewrite his memory, and leave Akira to Yoshizawa during the days. He can’t take his future from him.

But when Akira leans up and kisses Akechi, Akechi does not have the strength to pull away. The kiss is soft and sweet, but it razes through Akechi’s throat like fire. He chokes out a desperate whimper as he sinks into the wall behind, defenses collapsing in one go.

Akira can destroy entire sides of war. He makes the one he’s touching blessed for victory. Akechi forgets all else and feels like he’s on top of the world, moaning into the heat of Akira’s wet private mouth.

But the looks Akira’s been giving him lately... His problems at home. They’re all accumulations of Akechi’s greed, and he was never supposed to be like this, he was always supposed to put Akira first... A blip of guilt blooms and blossoms. It’s not like Akechi can just erase this from Akira’s memory. This one stays, just like the study. And look what that’s done to them.

I don’t know what to do, Akira cries and agonizes in his head.

“Mm... We can’t...” Akechi groans into his mouth, but he can’t back away. He can’t stop tasting his heat, licking into the only familiarity and comfort he’s ever known. “We can’t...”

“But we are, aren’t we? Look at you. You’re so hard.” Akira grabs Akechi’s by the crotch and Akechi lets out a garbled sob. “I know you want this too.”

They nestle into each other’s bodies, moaning and grabbing onto each other, too crammed together to make sense of what they’re even doing. Nothing is calculated, they’re just rutting against the other, two bodies clashing and fighting for the last of the other’s space.

Akira’s head falls loosely to the side as Akechi shifts him. He pants into the air. “Don’t stop. Or I’ll die.”

“We shouldn’t,” Akechi begs right before pressing a deep kiss onto Akira’s mouth. “Oh, god, you taste so good,” he breathes inside.

Akira exhales sharply. “I haven’t been able to stop thinking about it since you last did it. How it felt... How you took me. Made me take it. How you looked at me.” Pointedly, he parts his legs.

Akechi can see everything through it. He’s being hypnotized.

Akira gives a soft laugh. “Like that... I’ve never felt so desired. Not by anyone else.”

“These fucking clothes...they’ve got to be illegal.” With a groan of agony, he reaches a hand out and digs his thumb into the bulge of Akira’s erection. “They’re so tight. You never wear your clothes this tight. ...Was this for me?”

Akira hisses and presses his head back into the alleyway wall, back arching reflexively to meet Akechi’s touch. “Yes. — No. I don’t know. Goro. Touch me.”

He did. He chose leather for Akechi. Akechi stares in awe. Akira lays out underneath Akechi’s body so prettily for him. Such a disheveled mess, his black curls falling over his eyes with perfect devil may care heat. These criminally tight clothes, black leather hugging his skin. He looks like something out of Akechi’s dreams, begging him, pleading for him. The pinprick of guilt that had grown in Akechi’s chest withers with a pop and is blown away into dust.

Akira was trying to seduce Akechi.

Subconsciously, consciously, it doesn’t matter. Akira wore this for him. This morning. Before any of this.

Akechi reaches both hands up to the edge of Akira’s pants, carefully folding his shirt up over his heaving belly to expose fine white against black. His stomach dips and expands with each push and pull of his breath, the comforting fall and rise of his breath.

Akira chuckles gutturally as he tosses his head back. He watches Akechi’s every move through dark eyes, lips parted as he breathes fast and uneven. “That’s it, Goro...”

Akechi gives a short nervous laugh. “I-I know how to undress a person. I don’t need the praise.”

“Don’t you? You’re taking too long.” Akira lifts himself slightly to catch Akechi’s mouth in his. He wraps his arms around Akechi’s neck and pulls, kissing him hungrily.

Akechi falls forward a bit and he has to throw a hand out to catch them. Akira’s mouth against his is divine, working into him with a confident tongue. He isn’t worried about being accepted at all, already knows he’s welcome. And Akechi can’t deny...the feeling of being wanted, of being craved and desired...it makes Akechi feel whole in ways he thought impossible. A home where he doesn’t have to knock before entering. A place he’s expected, a place where someone is actually excited to see him.

Despite knowing how much Akechi’s dipped his hand into this situation, he can’t help but feel like it’s all genuine. The thing is it sounds like Akira. It blinks like him, smiles like him, talks like him, moves like him. Akechi can’t help but think it is him. I want you, he says with his mouth and his tongue, and Akechi falls.

He undoes Akira’s zipper and tugs his boxers down over his thighs. Akira catches the light in darkness like the moon, all soft whites and serene blues. He squirms a bit to try to shuck the pants off lower, but Akechi crawls over both thighs to pin him down.

He presses Akira flat into the ground and loves the way Akira fights back just because he can. That pull against the push, the rising to meet Akechi right where he is and give resistance. He’s Akechi’s equal, and Akechi’s caught him. Akira claws and writhes beneath him, arms and legs caging around Akechi’s body so he’s the one who feels caught. Akechi’s head cracks back as Akira yanks hard, rising up to bite into his jugular.

“Ah. Akira, you little —”

He licks a long stripe up the wound. “You’re mine.”

Akechi throws his weight into Akira and sinks in there, knocking his head back to the floor where he rakes his teeth over his sensitive soft neck. “No,” he says, and bites.

“Ah!” Akira cries, pulling at his hair.

“You’re mine,” Akechi whispers before clamping his mouth onto an even larger sensitive spot and giving it brutal attention.

“Mmmm,” Akira bucks, mouth open in a wide ‘o’ as he squirms beneath him. “Feels...so...good. Goro... How do you make me...feel this way? Oh, god.”

Akechi pops off for a large gulp of breath and moves down, just above Akira’s clavicle. He tugs the leather jacket away and bites, humming in hot pleasure as he feels Akira’s entire body shudder beneath his. Akira’s cock shudders the longest, basically pulsing without coming against Akechi’s hip.

“Mine,” Akechi whispers, dipping his tongue over Akira’s Adam’s apple and feeling beneath his jawline, lapping it up. “You’re all mine, every little bit of you. Your mind, your heart, your blood.” He clamps down at his vulnerable jugular again, sucking as hard as he can.

Akira writhes, feet kicking, nails digging into his back. “Goro!”

“That’s it,” he hisses as he tends to the spot. Marking him. Claiming him. “Head back. Be a good boy.”

With a whimper, Akira does so, trembling.

Akechi opens his jaw and clamps down, feeling Akira’s soft heated flesh in between his teeth.

“Oh—” Akira’s eyes are closed as he lets himself get devoured by Akechi’s mouth and teeth. The strength in his hands goes weak. They skim over Akechi’s scalp, but he’s turning docile with each bite. Even in the dark Akechi can see the way his usually pristine white neck is marred in fresh shadowed hickeys and bruises.

He feels a bit like the vampire Akira spoke of earlier. Seducing, rendering his little victim pliant and weak, so they think they’re enjoying it, they think they want this, as Akechi takes and takes and takes until there are no scraps left.

It tastes so good to suck Akira up into his mouth, lick his salty sweat and heat up over his tongue.

He slips a hand into Akira’s pants and shifts him to the side, parting his thighs from beneath. Akira huffs weakly, sliding loosely over Akechi’s body as he lets Akechi take whatever he wants.

Akechi feels over the tight roundness of his cheeks, slips in between and finds his even tighter hole. He repositions Akira over his shoulder, clamping his other hand to hold the back of his neck. “Is this where she took you,” Akechi whispers into Akira’s ear, feeling along the soft elasticity of his entrance. “Did she play with you here?”

“Yes...” Akira whispers back.

“She put on a strap-on, tossed you over a table...tied you up...and made you her plaything? Fucked you until you were numb? That false cock piercing deep into your body as she rode you eagerly?”

“Ah.... N-no,” Akira mumbles. “No tying.”

“Oh... Pity, Akira,” Akechi sighs against him as he circles his hole with two fingers, feeling the twitch and anticipation build against them. “You would’ve looked so good like that.”

Akira laughs deliriously. “How would you have done it? I want to imagine it...” He closes his eyes down. “You would’ve tied me up?”

“Oh, yes. Of course, Akira. What better way to take you? I want you helpless, so you can’t move when I’m delighting in your body. Your ankles — I’ll tie those first first, so you can’t run away. So you’ll be stuck to the floor, right where I can grab you and drag you to me. Such a helpless, pretty little thing.”

Akira groans lowly in his throat. His hole twitches beneath Akechi’s teasing finger. “What else? What next?”

“Then your hands, so you can’t touch yourself. So your pleasure will be fully dictated by me. Even if you’re crying and begging for release, writhing in agony for it, you don’t get to choose when that is. You’re mine.”

“Yes...” Akira’s neck rolls to the other side without being asked. The only side left unmarked.

Akechi runs his nose along the curve of it, breathing him in deeply, his heady scent intoxicating his own mind. He gives Akira something gentle, pressing his lips softly, delicately along the other side of his jugular. One pale white. The other dark and bruised.

Then, he opens his mouth and bites down hard, latching on as he hears Akira cry out. “Then I’ll bind your mouth, so no one else but me can hear you scream. And, fuck, will I make you scream...”

He slowly presses his two fingers in and Akira’s body tightens in one go, his head cracking back into the floor. “Ohhhh, my gooodddd”, he breathes into the sky, thighs parting wider beneath Akechi, the stretch of leather making it look even more lewd.

“...See?” Akechi whispers into his neck, pressing one last kiss into a particularly nasty bruise. He swears he can taste the blood so close to the surface, it changes the way Akira tastes and smells, richer, like salt. “Barely anything and all that noise...” Akechi pulses the fingers in shallowly. “If that had been my cock, the whole street would hear. Looks like you need to be bound... Your whole body smothered in locks and chains... Can’t even crawl away from me...as I force my fingers into your cunt and play with you like a master with its puppet.”

“Ooooh, fuck. Oh god.” He squirms. He’s sweating harder. “Oh, my god, it feels so amazing. This is better than I remembered it being. So much better. Oh my god...”

Akechi watches seriously, eyes glued to Akira’s every little reaction and expression change. Bliss. Akira is bathing in fulfilled bliss.

“...How does it compare...?” Akechi dares whisper. “Now that you’re here again? With me.”

Akira’s cock twitches, a string of pre-cum leaking off the head to his shirt. “No comparison,” he breathes, eyes so dark as he blinks them blearily. They’re hazy, unfocused. “None... It’s like I’m on a different planet. Oh, Goro...” Akira cries out sharply because Akechi has begun fingering him hard.

“You’re — so — erect, Akira. Your cock looks very happy. That’s more than Yoshizawa can do for you.”

“Yes! Yes. Only you! Fuuuuck.” He shoves his feet to the ground and arches. “More, more, more, more.”

Akechi groans and dives in, biting at the last untouched spot on his neck. “Mine...” He breathes rabidly. “Mine.”

Akira groans and holds Akechi behind the head with both hands, cradling him to his skin. “That’s it, Goro. Just like that... Take me just like this... It’s perfect. You’re so perfect... It feels so good...oh, fuck.”

Akechi presses his face into Akira’s skin, breathing him in as he pulls up and off. He kneels over Akira, who’s sprawled over the ground, looking thrashed, and slowly undoes his belt. His crotch is only a few inches away from Akira’s face and Akechi can’t help but smirk slightly as Akira’s eyes grow wide as saucers, his pupils swallowing up his irises whole with a whoreish desperate gaze locked straight on Akechi’s cock. He’s like a dog to a bone. Only he wants that bone up his cunt.

He slides his belt off and tosses it to the side carelessly. Then he climbs over Akira, spreads his thighs open wide, and sinks into him without care. No time to spare. As Akira’s breath catches sharply on an inverted squeak, Akechi sheathes himself until his abdomen is pressed into Akira’s and he holds himself there, planted deep. Akira goes tense and quiet, hands clenching into Akechi’s hair. He doesn’t make a peep.

Akechi watches him carefully. “Did I hurt you?” Akechi asks softly, staying as still as possible in Akira’s arms.

Akira curls into him, hiding his face in Akechi’s shoulder.

“Akira...?” Akechi moves back, trying to see his face. “Is that a yes? Want me to pull out?”

Akira makes a strange strangled noise and he comes, hoarsely, to no movement at all. Suddenly, he’s unloading heat all over Akechi’s front.

As he climaxes, Akechi turns his face and looks into Akira’s expression. At the desperation in his eyes, the heat, the pleasure. His mouth hangs open in a wide ‘o’ as his neck falls back. It must’ve been hard on him not being able to come for so long, seeing as Akechi could get this kind of reaction over next to no work at all.

Akechi laughs softly into Akira’s tense jawline. He’s still coming, writhing beneath Akechi in bliss. How magnificent. “...Pulsing and pulsing away onto me... Let go, Akira. Let it all go. There we go.” He pets his hair gently as Akira makes soft choked noises and gushes and gushes.

Finally, with a long low groan, Akira settles, head falling back into the wall, spent.

“Done so soon, huh?” Akechi keeps petting him.

He doesn’t apologize, just smiles serenely. “...God, that was...mmm.”

“Good?”

He closes his eyes down, but a crooked smile grows on his face until he’s beaming. “So fucking good. I really needed that.”

Akechi snorts, staring down at the explosion of fluids sticking to both of their stomachs. “Who could ever guess you were having problems? I didn’t even do anything and look at this mess. You got it all over the place.”

“Oof,” Akira laughs as he stretches out, completely shameless. “I’m a little pent up, I think...” He shifts a little bit, looking down where they’re connected. “And that isn’t true. You are doing something. ...I can feel it. I can feel you. You’re inside me. So golden and warm. I can feel your heart beating in my core... You’re heat. You’re life. Everything feels okay like this.” He sinks back, collapsed and satiated over nothing.

“Better than silicone?”

Akira slips his fingers down, feeling at their connection and sighing, pleasured. “...Goro, you feel better than fucking anything.” He fingers around the width of Akechi, where it’s wet and oozing from his own drooling cum.

“Mmm,” Akechi hums in deep satisfaction. His cock is being hugged inside Akira’s comforting tight warmth, clutched at from all angles, poked at by Akira’s fingertips. So precious and rare a time. Akechi is so happy he isn’t the only one enamored by it all.

“...You’ve never felt this before, have you...? Someone’s weight burrowed inside you? Taking you? That’s so crazy to me. How do you live?”

Akechi raises an amused eyebrow at him, laughing softly. “I don’t believe you actually need sex to live.”

“I mean, don’t you? Basic human need. Felt like I was going to die this whole past week.”

“Hmmm.”

Akira keeps stroking the half inch of Akechi’s cock that isn’t snuggled inside him, neck hanging back, basically purring. He says lazily, “So no one’s been inside of you? Ever?”

“Not...really,” Akechi says, looking away, face flaming. Akira didn't exactly make it all the way inside in the Velvet Room. Technically, Arsène has. Many times. But he’s pretty sure Akira’s friends joke about him fucking the robot. Or being fucked by the robot. Not that it really matters, but is he really a virgin if his robot’s fucked him six ways to Sunday? It’s complicated.

Akira stares at him, reaching with his other hand to pull the bangs from Akechi’s eyes so he can peer into his soul and pry out his secrets. “What? Who? I thought you said —”

“No. That’s not what I meant. I meant — you know, like...uh...silicone...”

“Oh...oh, TOYS.”

Akechi shifts to get more comfortable and they’re so connected that Akira draws in a sharp breath, closing his eyes as he holds Akechi’s cock deliberately inside of him. His cunt twitches from top to bottom as they settle back into each other.

“Yes,” Akechi says once he’s waited for Akira’s body to calm down again. “Lots of them. I have quite the fanatic’s level of a collection. You should see it whenever you’d like. I think you might like it.”

Akira’s eyes bulge and he gives a hearty laugh Akechi can feel tighten around his cock. “Huh?” He whispers, eyes gleeful and bright. “What? Goro Akechi, asexual dildo connoisseur?? No. No, no, no, I do not believe you. You’re fucking with me. Where would you even keep them? I’ve never seen any.”

“I have them hidden away in my room. I can show you sometime. Ask whenever and I’ll bring you straight to them. You’ll find all the proof you need.” Especially when Akechi lodges them deep inside of Akira while he’s looking around. Close the door. Lock him away.

Akira stares for a few seconds longer before deciding Akechi’s telling the truth. His eyes bulge. “Really? When did you start collecting...? I had no idea you were such a sexual deviant.”

“Are toys really that devious? I mean...they’re pretty common. It’s just no one really talks about it in casual conversation. I started...I don’t know, fairly soon after we moved out from our apartment together.”

“But that was ages ago! We were teenagers.”

Akechi raises both eyebrows and shrugs.

Akira laughs out loud. “Fuck, Goro... You confuse me so much. All along I thought you were celibate. We barely have toys. Sumi and I, I mean. We’ve been having to buy them, but I don’t know what’s good or not... They don’t seem that great.”

He rolls his eyes to the heavens. “You poor fools. Honestly, by the way you’ve been describing your pegging experience, I figured as much... You probably got the shitty cheap hard ones. Maybe you should borrow some of mine.”

“Really? You wouldn’t mind?”

Akechi nearly laughs at Akira’s eager face, but it’s so honest, fondness wins out. He meant it as a joke. What kind of friends share their literal dildos? In what world? “Sure, come over and we’ll test them out on you. We can find some that work for your body type, for your specific wants. A lot of them are heatable and wonderfully soft. It shouldn’t feel cold and hard inside you unless that’s how you want it to feel.”

“Want it to feel? Why would you want it to be cold and hard?”

Akechi shrugs. “Some people like it rough. Some people like a challenge. I personally like both. How about you?”

Akira’s eyebrows raise in surprise. “I...I’m not sure. I don’t...I dunno.”

Akechi laughs softly and leans in, lifting a black curl to whisper into Akira’s ear, “I think you like it at least a little bit rough.”

“O-oh,” Akira whispers back breathlessly, cheeks flaming pink. He swallows hard, pupils expanding out as they stay latched onto Akechi. “...Do I?”

“Mmmhm.” At the low rumble of Akechi’s voice, Akira’s cunt contracts all over as he sighs out softly, thick eyelashes fluttering. Akechi smiles, pleased, his cock getting pleasantly serviced within Akira. “...Anyway, I’m a firm believer that you can make any toy great with the proper inspiration.”

“Mm...oh, yeah?”

“Yep. Doesn’t even have to technically be a toy to be a toy, if you know what I mean. You can use nearly anything to pleasure yourself.”

“Anything? A knife?”

“Akira. Of course. That’s the first thing I’d go to.”

Akira laughs lowly, running his hands through Akechi’s hair in soothing strokes as he shifts his legs apart a bit wider. “God, you’re insane. Now I’m the one getting the sex talk. I cannot pin you at all. You seem both way too experienced and not experienced all at the same time. ...You’ve really never been with anyone else before...?”

Akechi thinks of Akira sitting in bed with him and Arsène, watching as Arsène played with his body. Akechi caught glimpses as he was shifted back and forth, eyes stuck half open. The uneasy look on Akira’s face...the way he leaned back from it all, stuck staring in horror. “...No,” Akechi murmurs. “There’s not much point for me. I don’t care about anyone else.”

Akira begins twirling Akechi’s long hair around his finger, watching his face with a hungry sort of intensity Akechi’s not sure he’s ever seen before. “I don’t really get the whole asexual thing, honestly. I find it super interesting, but I’m kinda confused about it all. Sometimes you say you’re gay. Sometimes you say everyone disgusts you. But then, here you are with your cock up my body... I feel you twitching inside of me and I mean, you’re so hard, so... Does it not feel good for you or something? Is that what you mean, or...?”

Akechi watches Akira’s face, watches how Akira’s watching him back, truly curious. His heart flutters. There’s something about Akira’s attention. “I don’t know honestly. I can’t explain it to you. I do hate people. I can’t imagine just fucking anyone, it honestly disgusts me, but...you’re not just anyone, are you? You bypass all logic and reason.”

“Hmmm. But you like it, with me? It feels good?”

“Yes,” Akechi whispers seriously.

Akira’s face goes thoughtful as he reaches down to rake his hands through the faint trail of hair over Akechi’s lower pelvis. He strokes him thoroughly, through his own cum painted there, repeating the movement as he watches through still eyes. “...Good. You have a really nice body. I’ve always thought it.” He says it easily, like it was just a thought that made it out. When it processes, he tenses up, face flaming red. He shoves both hands over his eyes and groans. “No. I didn’t mean —”

Akechi catches Akira by the wrist and leans in. He says gently, “It’s okay. I think you do too. I think it every single time I see you. ...You’re very beautiful.”

Akira stares back breathlessly. His hand sinks into Akechi’s hold and he swallows hard. “Th-thank you. I, um... Thanks...” He pushes his hair back with both hands as he stares wide-eyed up at the sky. “Say... Um... Tell me-tell me if this is crazy, okay? But you like experiments, don’t you? Science Goro.”

He places two kisses on Akira’s wrists, smelling up the warm heady scent there. “You know I do.”

Akira’s hands caress Akechi’s face as he runs his nose along his skin. “Okay. Again, tell me if I’m being insane here, but... ...What if...and we don’t have to... But what if we...experiment together?”

Akechi’s sight goes unfocused, doubling. He stops his exploration up Akira’s forearms. ...No. Akira cannot be asking what Akechi is thinking he’s going to ask. He never is.

But Akira says from his own mouth, shyly, sweetly: “...What if I make love to you...? I show you how it feels to have the real thing inside of you instead of just toys. A cock, instead of silicone. Like...like you did for me. ...Maybe you’d like it. Maybe you’d see that sex is...you know, good.”

Akira looks shyly up at Akechi, eyelashes fluttering with his uncertainty and Akechi blinks, trying to rouse himself, but he can’t. He’s fifteen again, pure and innocent and hopeful. What if...?

What if they kissed?

What if they fell in love?

What if Akira turned Akechi around and took him up the cunt?

He’s shucked back to that parking lot all those years ago. Experiment. Nervous hesitant hands. The windows in the back seat fogging up... Akechi would’ve climbed into Akira’s lap and given himself away then, if only Akira had asked. He would’ve given him everything. Every little fragile piece of himself.

In Akechi’s stunned silence, Akira scrambles. “We don’t have to! But I... All these years, I spent taking others during sex. I thought that was all there was. The peak. And it was pretty good, but then, this... I can’t explain it, Goro. It’s like...all the sex I’ve ever had in all my years bundled into one orgasm. Over and over again. It only gets better each time. It’s crazy. Life changing. I’ve been with a lot of girls and never have I...” He takes a deep breath and looks Akechi straight in the face. “I’m going to be honest. Is that okay with you?”

Akechi nods mechanically.

“I think...whatever this is, whatever’s happening between us, it’s...special. And I think I can make you feel it. I think I’m the only one who can make you feel it. I want to be your first. ...But...only if you want me to. I want to give to you what you give to me.”

Akechi is a helium balloon, removed from his body and hanging by the thinnest string. He must be in a dream. Nothing’s making sense and he’s never cared less. “...Please,” he says faintly.

“Wh-what? Really?”

Akechi nods, blinking quickly.

“Me, I mean. Right? You get that? Me, penetrating you. Like...I turn you around, I go up...uh...up your body. With my cock. And then I fuck you. Okay? Is that okay? I’m just thinking maybe you’ll discover you actually do feel something during sex, something more than what a toy can give to you. I’ll make it worth your time, I promise.”

“...Okay.” He’s going to pass out.

Akira grins brilliantly and holds onto Akechi’s hips. And Akechi just sits there like a lump in shock because...Akira really believes it. The Bottom Maker worked. Akira thinks he can give that to him too...by giving Akechi the gift of being a bottom. He thinks it’s the bottoming that’s it. Doesn’t even question it.

“Oh my god,” Akechi whispers dizzily. He’s a fucking genius, after all! Wait until Arsène hears about this!

Akira says lowly, rising up to murmur in Akechi’s ear, “I’m going to teach you what it’s like to have someone else’s body thrust deep, deep inside of you. To be one with someone, to feel them release their heat into your core. Me. Releasing in you... Making you learn how to finger it out over a bathtub for your first time, terrified about why you’ve come so many times...and only coming more... And coming and coming and coming...”

Akechi laughs weakly, nodding along dumbly. “Okay. Yes. Alright.”

“When it happened to me that first time,” Akira whispers, “I was pleading your name the entire time and I couldn’t stop. I wanted to, I tried to, but I couldn’t. I had to shove my face into a towel to muffle the sound as I sobbed your name over and over and over. I’ve never been that out of control in my life. Will you plead mine the same way...?”

Fuck. Akechi’s going to faint and perish.

Akira leans back and smiles, looking down. “You might have to get out of me first before we can start though...”

“Oh.” Akechi breathes, pushing against the wall and pulling out. He’s scrambling, looking foolish and inexperienced and he basically is but that’s not the point. Somehow, he ends up on his butt on the floor. He fell.

As he watches Akechi trip over himself, Akira’s smile grows. He gives a soft laugh as he leans in and grabs Akechi by his hands. “Here. Scoot closer.”

Akechi comes in close, so they can barely see the other, are only pressed together. He’s all arms and legs and where does he put them? Where does he sit? He doesn’t know.

“Pants.”

Akechi takes his pants off.

Akira grins crookedly down at him, eyes twinkling. “...Wow. So obedient. That’s unlike you. And why aren’t you talking? You’re always talking.”

Akechi’s breath is thin and fast. He gives a faint laugh, but it makes him dizzy. “I think I may be mid-stroke, actually. I never thought that — I didn’t think you’d ever want to fuck me...”

“Hmmm.” Something jangles to the side of them, but Akechi’s too distracted to look. “I think I’ve seen the light, Goro.” He feels Akira’s hands on his legs, sliding down to his shins, and...

He locks Akechi’s ankles tight.

Akechi pulls back on a sharp breath, staring down with Akira into the shadow of their bodies. He looks back up, eyes wide. He is not used to feeling like the mouse.

Akira’s gaze is steady as Akechi’s meets his. He’s been watching him. “...I’ll take your ankles first, so you can’t run... Isn’t that right?” Akira leans in more, causing Akechi’s breath to catch. Their chests press together. Akechi is forced downward, against the back wall, staring into Akira’s dark predatory eyes. “So I can grab you...and drag you to me. My helpless prey.” Akira leans over and then skims his hands up Akechi’s arms, raising them over his head. He kisses his wrists softly, where there’s damage, taking extra care there, soft as butterfly wings. “And then I’ll bind your hands. So only I can pleasure you. Only I get to choose what’s good for you.” He binds Akechi up by the wrists, in a space without wounds, and leaves them overhead with a commanding push. “And you have to sit there and watch me take you.”

Akechi is seriously going to pass out. He swallows hard to say something in response, say anything, but he has no spit in his mouth to swallow. Akira was listening earlier. He was listening and now he uses it against Akechi. It’s the sweetest kind of torture. He whimpers softly and it sounds like he’s dying.

Akira leans back sharply. “Jesus, Goro. Are you okay? ...You’re super pale.”

“Oh. I... I think so.” He chokes on his dry throat and shakes his head quickly. “I — I’ve never — I’m nervous. You’re so...” He stops himself.

Akira watches him, face going tender. “...I’m so what?”

He almost said, you’re so sexy. But that sounds so stupid. And he doesn’t know how to make it not stupid and juvenile, but he means it, he does. And it sounds desperate. So desperate. And desperate is gross. He doesn’t want to sound gross, not when Akira’s looking at him through such dark intense eyes like he wants to eat Akechi up. Akechi most definitely wants to be eaten up. So he has to look delectable.

He doesn’t want to ruin this. He feels fifteen again, all sexual tidbits and facts he’s gathered along the way since then gone. He’s just a disgusting dirty poor little boy. Nothing to offer but his disfigured body. Needy and greedy and wanting. And Akira’s so...

Sexy.

Akechi can’t stand it.

“It’s alright,” Akira whispers, leaning in to press a kiss to Akechi’s cheek. “It’s just me.” He uses a hand to tilt Akechi’s head to the side and licks gently into his mouth, parting his lips. “I’ve never done this before either.”

Not breaking the kiss, Akira straddles Akechi, sitting up on his abdomen, grinding down into his cock and riding it.

Akechi groans softly, closing his eyes tight. “...But you’ve taken women. All the time.”

Akira snorts and rolls his eyes. “I’m not some player, Goro. I have like...the normal amount of experience.”

“You’re not normal,” Akechi pants seriously. “...You’ve never taken Yoshizawa...uh...well, not up her cunt?”

Akira chuckles beneath his breath, still riding him. “Goro. Don’t call it cunt. That’s fucking rude.”

“What?” He breathes into his mouth, hardly paying attention. “What is it then?”

“It’s called a vagina.”

Akechi groans. “That’s worse. It’s a hundred times worse.”

“It’s the name. And no. God, no, she’d never allow that. She’s not...into that...”

“Have you been curious? How it feels?”

Akira chuckles and presses a deep kiss to his temple before pulling back. “You ask so many questions at the literal worst times... ...Not for her, no. But...but I’ve been thinking about you a lot lately. I’ve been thinking about this. What it might feel like...in comparison.”

Akechi stares with a unique intensity. “How do you think?”

“I think it’ll be good, Goro,” Akira whispers. “I think it’ll be really good...”

Akechi exhales shakily, looking down at the way his shirt has ridden up his chest. How Akira’s slow torturous undulations have reddened the usually pale skin of his abdomen. He reaches over Akira’s body, fitting his hands to his waist, feeling the fever and heat built between them. It’s so wonderful to be able to touch him like this, without the guilt, without stealing it.

He stares, enchanted, and whispers urgently, “I think I’m about to come.”

Akira stops. Leans back. “Oh no. Not yet.”

“Uuugh. Akira. You came in a second!”

Akira does not touch him. “It’s up to me to decide when you come, Goro. And I said not yet.” He presses his fingers to his bottom lip as he inspects Akechi and thinks. If he thinks this will not affect Akechi, he is dead wrong.

Akechi squirms. “Akira, I’m going to come if you keep looking at me like that,” he threatens.

Akira does not laugh. “Not yet,” he hushes him. He won’t, because Akira told him not to. They both know he won’t.

Akira reaches forward, pulls Akechi’s shirt up and off his chest, and rolls it up to his neck. And then he reaches down and shuffles his pants and boxers to his ankles.

He’s naked. Akechi is not used to being naked, honestly. Akira is the one who’s naked. He is naked and he is bound and he has never been this vulnerable. Akira was right. It’s terrifying.

Akira stares at him, unblinking. All of him. Whichever part he wants.

Akechi wants to hide it all. Wants to ball up and take back control. But he wants this too. “Is this how you do it?” Akechi breathes beneath his gaze. “Is this how you fuck your girlfriends?”

Akira keeps staring, lips parting thoughtfully. “...Not usually on an alleyway floor, no. There’s something about you...where I don’t feel like I have to be as careful.”

“Fuck...” Akechi groans. He can feel his cock making a fuss beneath Akira’s intense gaze — it’s so embarrassing and won’t calm the fuck down — but he feels like he can’t move like this, positioned so carefully by Akira like he’s the art piece. Like the very sight of him like this pleases his senses. Akechi bites hard at his lip. Closes his eyes for a second to try to hold in his climax, but being unable to see anything just makes it worse. It’s so much more intense.

“...Your eyes are dilated, Goro. Pure black. You look inhuman.” His voice is like fucking velvet. “You’re so vulnerable like this... I’ve never seen you look this vulnerable...”

“Swear to god...” Akechi shifts slightly, trying to ignore the tight feeling in his chest. The odd swelling heat in his pelvis. “Keep talking and I’m going to come...”

Akira’s smile softens. “If I talk, you come, if I look at you, you come. What can I do?”

“Show me. Show me how you fuck your girlfriends. I want the genuine Akira experience. All of it. Pretend I’m one of them. Pretend this is just...a normal encounter after a normal date. What would you do? First step.”

“Oh...” What started off as heat and confidence begins shaking slightly. Akira swallows hard, eyes flicking self-consciously away. They both feel like fifteen year old virgins. This is ridiculous. And wonderful. After all this time, it’s like they’re finally returning to the back of that car. Reuniting in a way Akechi thought was lost to time.

After all they’ve done with each other lately, whether Akira remembers it or not, none of it even makes sense. But have they ever? And, somehow, they work out so perfectly together, if given the chance.

Akira gives Akechi a chance. He begins to move. It doesn’t look natural anymore, it looks like he is painfully aware of every little action he makes. Jankily, he crawls over Akechi and leans in, shaky hands reaching for his face. He tilts Akechi’s head slightly and presses a timid kiss to his jawline. Warmth. His breath flutters golden across Akechi’s skin. “...First step. ...I’d... We’d try — You really want to hear about them...?”

Akechi is already in bliss, Akira caging him to the floor, handling his face with his sturdy hands, staring at him, and only at him. He nods faintly, eyes half open as he gazes up into Akira’s light, drunk off it. “I’ve always wanted to know what it’s like...to be in their place.”

Akira hesitates for a moment. But it’s just a moment. Then, he takes in a determined breath and leans in again, more sure. He kisses Akechi’s face. “First, I’d try to get them comfortable. If they’re nervous...I want to show them that they’re safe with me. I want them to feel like they can trust me. That I’d never hurt them. Never go too far. I can say all that, but...I think it’s better to show through actions.”

“That’s what your kisses are for?”

“Yes,” Akira whispers, pulling off Akechi’s cheek to gently press his lips over Akechi’s. He keeps it chaste, lips parted, breathing into his mouth. “I can tell you’re nervous. So I want to be gentle...”

A ghost of a grin quirks Akechi’s lips up just slightly, but he’s so seriously into it, he tries not to move. “...It’s nice.” There’s none of the violence Akechi exhibits. None of the rabid rush. None of the furious spit to fill Akira up with hormones and twist and twist and twist his will into his own. There’s no need for any of that, Akira doesn’t need to chip away with a thrown knife when he can soothe with a gentle hand. It’s so unbearably sweet, like floating in a pool of warm honey. “...I can see why they trust you so readily.”

“I really do mean it, you know,” Akira whispers, tilting his head slightly to press his lips gently from another angle. He gathers Akechi’s face into both of his hands, cupping him tenderly, like he’s the most important thing in the world to him. “I just have to show that I do.”

Akechi closes his eyes and nods through honeyed syrup. He’s bathed in a dream. “Yeah. Yeah, that’s good. It’s...” He swallows hard, lips trembling against Akira’s. “It’s perfect. I get why you’re so good with women.”

“What about with men?”

Akechi chuckles a little unsteadily in his throat. He’s being included. He never thought he would be. Whispers, “I can confirm you are very good with men too... What next, Akira?”

“Alright...” Akira murmurs with a smile, eyelashes fluttering over Akechi’s cheeks as he scans his face. He presses a kiss to the corner of his lip. “...As I feel them start to go soft...and you are...I deepen the kiss.”

Akira’s tongue touches the outer edge of Akechi’s lip and Akechi tenses up in surprise, so hypersensitive from hanging onto Akira’s every word and every movement. He feels everything.

Wet. And smooth. Akira licks again, casually, exploring the bottom of Akechi’s lip. Akechi isn’t sure what to do. He just breathes, letting him, basking in the attention. Akira dips inside.

Akechi groans, parting his mouth wider for him. He meets him halfway, twining their tongues together. He tastes like home. Like comfort. Like the only place Akechi can rest.

Heat. Life. A rainbow of colors, fractals swirling in the light...

Akira’s so careful. It’s so different from how they usually kiss. Hot and dirty and messy. Almost angry. Kisses ripped from Akira’s lips, wrung out from his core, struggling as it’s strangled.

Here, Akira kisses him with strokes to Akechi’s face using his thumbs as he tilts his head in the way he wants it. And the way he wants is sweet, gentle. Akechi goes softly. For him. Breath somehow feeling shallow and deep all at the same time. Long pulls that go down but not in. Because Akira’s there. Akira’s inside of him, kissing him so deeply Akechi can’t feel his own body, only Akira’s exploring tongue.

“Wh-what do you do... What do you do to them next...?” Akechi asks faintly, gazing down at the way Akira’s mouth opens around his. How his tongue slides inside. He can hear his own breath reflect off Akira’s mouth. Feel their heat twine together.

Akira runs his nose up Akechi’s cheek and begins pressing chaste kisses against the corner of his mouth again, up his jawline, into his hairline. “What do you want next...?” He whispers.

“You.”

Akira laughs gently against him. He gets his hand and slides it down Akechi’s body, thumbing at his chest.

Akechi inhales sharply.

“Normally, I’d play here for them, but...does it feel good for you?” He rubs at Akechi’s nipples for a moment longer but he doesn’t seem to get the reaction he wants. With a feather light touch, he moves his hand down Akechi’s abdomen, tickling across his ribs, watching Akechi’s face intently. “Everyone has their own hidden sensitive spots... Your chest doesn’t seem very sensitive to you.”

Akechi resents that. “It feels good.” He can be a good girlfriend too.

“Hmm.” He flashes an amused smile at Akechi — he sees right through him — before returning his attention down. He slides over Akechi’s pelvis, which of course, feels very good, but Akira moves away, to his hip, around his back, over his waist.

As Akira ghosts over the divot of his waist, Akechi draws up, back arching slightly, like a reflex. His breath stops in his throat. Sensation. It’s everywhere.

“Oh,” Akira leans forward with keen interest, fingers slowing in the cove of Akechi’s side. “...There it is... Good?” He starts lightly scraping his nails in a slow small circle in the divot of Akechi’s waist.

“Ffffuck...” Akechi moans, wriggling beneath Akira. Bolts of pleasure blossom in the sensitive little cove. He can feel the muscles in his lower trunk twisting and twitching. “I’m going to come. Fuck you.”

“So soon?” Akira asks serenely, still tracing circles into the spot. It feels like he’s tickling at the door to his soul. He found Akechi’s lock and is circling it with his key.

“Like you can talk! FUCK. Akira, I’m — ! I’m — !!”

Quickly, Akira draws his hand away and keeps them on the ground.

Akechi tosses his head back and groans, certain he’s going to come anyway, but...just as quickly as it rises, it turns on its head and recedes. “Fuck. Fuckfuckfuck...!”

He settles back down, eyes still closed. “...Fuck,” he pants. “Oh, fuck. What the hell... ...No one’s ever...touched there before...”

Akira nuzzles his way back into his neck and says smugly, “Almost made you come. And I didn’t even really do anything... Does that make you a poor fool, just like me?”

“Shut up,” Akechi groans out a laugh, rubbing his face against Akira’s viciously. “Yes. God, I was so close... You’re fucking killing me. My climax is right fucking there. You’re wringing it between your horrible, horrible hands.”

Akira ghosts his fingers over the sensitive spot on Akechi’s waist and he chokes back an agonized groan. “I’m going to fucking kill you...” He gurgles weakly.

Akira laughs softly. “Hmmm. Usually I can mess around for a little while longer, but now I know how sensitive you are, so...” He hums fondly and says in an even lower, quieter voice. “You’ve always been very sensitive...”

“No one else comes the second you start touching them?”

Another chuckle. “Not usually, no. But, like I said, you’re special.”

Akechi’s heart flares. He grins up at Akira. “Where’s your spot?”

Akira blinks in surprise. “Oh... I don’t know. I’ve never thought about it.”

“What? Why do you neglect yourself like this? No toys until recently, no touching yourself...you need to change that.”

Akira sputters. “I didn’t do it on purpose. I’ve just...” He shrugs helplessly. “It’s not like I’m deprived during sex, I don’t need you feeling sorry for me. It’s just, I’m the one usually in charge. No one’s asking.”

“I’m asking.”

Akira frowns at him.

“Ugh. Nevermind. We’ll find it later. But, right now...” He scoots back into position under him. “Okay. Resume.”

Akira gives him a long amused look and snort, shaking his head. “Alright. Later, then.”

“Yes. Later. That’s a promise. I’ll find your fucking sensitive spot if it’s the last thing I do. I’ll press the fuck out of it.”

“Ha. Settle down. ...Next step,” Akira whispers into his ear. His voice is so close. His breath against the cup of Akechi’s ear is intimate and secretive. “Once I know you’re turned on, once I’m sure...and I’m pretty damn sure,” he laughs into Akechi’s neck. “I move my hand down your body...and begin to play...here...”

Akira slides both hands over Akechi’s hips and curls them around the back of his thighs, shifting his pelvis into the air. He presses both thumbs over Akechi’s hole and applies firm pressure, pulling his flesh outward.

“Oh,” Akechi inhales, back curving into Akira’s hands. “...You’re...”

Akira changes position, using his index finger to play with him, as gentle here as he’s been with the rest. “I’m?”

Akechi catches Akira’s mouth in his and kisses him deeply for a long raw moment. “Keep going.”

“Feels weird, doesn’t it?” Akira whispers, continuing to gently stroke him. An amused glint sparkles in his eyes. “When you first touched me there, I wasn’t sure. A place so private. A part of you so hidden.”

“How is it?” Akechi swallows hard, trying to focus on the conversation, but he’s sliding so far into sensation. He leans his cheek against Akira’s, panting weakly against him as he floats. Akira’s hands. Akira’s careful attention, his manipulation. He’s touching Akechi. On purpose. “Um... How is it in comparison...?”

“You love your comparisons,” Akira sighs pleasantly, rolling his head onto Akechi’s shoulder and staying there. “Do you need to compare every little thing?”

“Y-yeah,” Akechi whispers, head falling to Akira’s hair as he nestles in. “Think of it as an experiment. You’re fingering me. Withholding my orgasm. I want to know. Do you torment your girlfriends like this too?”

Akira laughs softly into his skin. “They’re not as fun to tease, no. There’s a special kind of anger to you no one else quite has.”

“Rrrghh... Give you fucking anger...”

Akira keeps laughing. “...Let’s call it passion then. It’s different. You’re a lot tighter right around here...” He circles Akechi with agile fingers. “It’s harder to press inside. They kinda just like...open for me, you know? It’s a slick slide in at the entrance. Going deeper is a different story, but...beyond the part itself, you squirm a lot more. You talk a lot more... Curse me a lot more,” he laughs softly. “Usually we’re pretty quiet, but you never have been able to get your mind to quiet down, have you...?”

His voice is like a lullaby, lulling Akechi away from shore. “Mmm...” He sighs, helpless. “I don’t like silence.”

“No,” Akira whispers back. “Me neither. I like how you talk.” Akira pushes in slightly and Akechi hiccups, body bowing. “Now I’m fingering you.”

“Oh.”

He begins moving his finger in and out, shallow gentle thrusts through the tight clench of Akechi’s body.

It isn’t like Akechi’s never been fucked. Arsène, for one. Akira, for another. His own fingers. His huge collection of toys. But it’s never had such careful deliberate attention honed in on the spot. And Akechi, in Akira’s arms, feels so much more vulnerable than...ever. Ever ever. He shudders, panic beginning to swell in his chest. He’s never felt this way before. He wants to clutch onto Akira, hold him tightly just to feel something sturdy in his grasp, but his hands are all tied.

Akira brushes Akechi’s bangs away from his face. “How are you doing? It’s odd, but...good, right?”

Akechi isn’t sure what he feels, but his breath is picking up. He’s so dizzy. Faintly, he says, “I don’t think I’ve ever felt so...stripped bare. My legs are wide. You’re...you’re pressing into my body... Inside... We’ve never... No one’s ever...”

“Yeah,” Akira whispers softly, sliding his finger in deeper, sending sharp vibrant sensation shooting up Akechi’s sensitive nerves.

His eyes cross. He’s going delirious. The fever’s overtaking his brain. “I-I’m not sure...people are meant to be...inside...”

“You’ve been inside me.”

“Oh, yeah,” Akechi says shakily. “Yeah, it feels...so different...on the other side.” Akechi draws a breath in sharply, rolling his back against the wall and blinking quickly into the sky. Deep. And it’s just a finger. “Uhhh. I’m gonna. I’m gonna —”

“Nope.” Akira pulls out and stills.

“Auuuugh, goddammit. Goddamn you. Fuck you. Fuck this...” He collapses to the ground as his orgasm scribbles like static throughout him but doesn’t reach its peak. Recedes sadly and leaves only disappointment. “...Fuck you,” he grunts, but he’s laughing deliriously.

Akira laughs too and then shoves his finger back inside and resumes immediately.

“Ah. God... God...fuck.”

“How are we doing?” Akira asks.

“Fucking...good. Wanna come...”

“Soon. I promise. I like this. I like the way you react.”

Akechi grins, his entire core and chest filling with pure warmth and joy. Akira likes the way he reacts. And he hasn’t even been faking it, hasn’t been able to. Akechi hums happly. His orgasm’s rising again. He tries to distract himself, but it pulls him in wholly, fierce. “H-how’s it for you?”

“It’s good for me, Goro,” Akira whispers back softly. His other hand comes down to Akechi’s ribs and he gently soothes him, holds him between his two hands. “I love seeing you like this. Every little expression you normally try so hard to stamp down...every emotion you fight, struggle with, it’s all right here for me to see. I feel like I’ve found a little portal into your soul and I’m looking in... So raw... So vulnerable... Still good?”

“Yeah...it’s — easier? I think? Ah!”

Akira slides a second finger inside and begins moving with more determined strokes, running pressure along his walls.

Akechi feels himself reflexively tightening up again. His hands clench into fists, his toes curl in viciously. “I’m gonna — I swear to god. I’m gonna —”

“No, no, no. Not yet. That’s an order.”

“Oh, fuck youuuu...” Akechi whines, writhing. He’s so high. He can’t fucking see anymore, it’s pure light. The binds on his wrist dig and pull and he didn’t even realize he was fighting so powerfully against them.

“Oh, shit. Are you trying to cut my fingers off on purpose?”

“Fuuuuuuuck. Can’t help it.”

“Good weird?”

“I dunno. I dunno. Fuck!”

Akira laughs beneath his breath. “Want me to stop?”

“For a second! For a second.”

Akira stills completely.

His orgasm stays smothered over his face, clawing up his body. It doesn’t retreat. Why isn’t it retreating? Akira isn’t moving, but his fingers stay inside Akechi, making him feel full and stretched around an unfamiliar girth. He can still smell Akira. He can still feel him, body pressed over Akechi’s. They’re so close. They’ve never felt this close, this connected. This...accepted.

“Should we stop? You kinda do look like you’re about to have a stroke.”

“Kill you...” Akechi murmurs faintly. Slowly, ever so slowly, his orgasm fades back down. But he can feel it. In every corner of his being. Wild heat. Embers flitting through his soul, red and lush and lively. If Akira were to lean down and touch his tongue to Akechi’s cock, he’d come immediately. He stares blankly up above, concentrating on breathing. “I’ll kill you if we stop now. I can take it.”

“You don’t have to force yourself. If it’s bad —”

“It’s not bad. I’m just. It’s just. Your cock. Use your cock.” He may actually be literally delirious.

“What?” Akira leans back a bit so he can stare Akechi in the face. He frowns as he slowly pulls his fingers out. Akechi grits down tightly, sensation absolutely searing. “Goro. If you think this feels weird, well...”

“I’m nervous, not incapable.” Akechi stares at him hard. “If you just shove it in, my nervousness will be gone! I’ve taken toys. I swear. Huge fucking toys, bigger than even you. I can do it, I know I can! I’m just...” He swallows hard. “All this build up... I feel like I’ve spent decades waiting for this and now that it’s here...I can’t take another second or I’m going to explode. I’ve been starved of this. No more messing around. No more playing with me. I need it now. Just do it. I can take you. I want you. I’m made for you. I always have been...”

They stare at each other. Evening’s darkened into blue. The moon is overhead. This is their time, when they’re meant to thrive. After all this pain, all this agony, Akechi’s finally been offered the real thing and he wants it, no matter what. No halfway.

Akira watches him oddly, a flit of the unfamiliar across his face. But then, he gives a soft laugh and leans in, pressing a kiss to Akechi’s cheek. “Brat. Well. Whatever the prince demands is my command.”

“Shut it,” he settles in relief. “I’ve almost come like twenty times now and you keep snatching it away at the last second. This is very distressing. I’ve been very good for you so reward me already.”

“Hm,” Akira chuckles. He wraps an arm around Akechi’s front and presses his hand into his sternum, lifting him up and turning him so he’s facing the wall. “Such a brat,” he whispers into his ear from behind. Akechi can’t see him, but his voice is so deep, his presence such a heavy weight, a wall of steadying pure comfort behind him.

“Next step. Give me your cock already.” Akechi leans his elbows into the wall, bracing himself, distracted by the feeling of Akira’s hand ghosting across the back of his very private leg. He shudders, taking in a long deep breath of anticipation.

“Can you stand alright?”

“...My legs are...weird. Can’t-can’t really feel them.”

“Uhh...should they be doing that?”

“It’s the fucking orgasm you’re holding hostage. Just keep ahold of me. Focus. Come on.”

“Okay.”

Akechi waits in hyper aware suspense, boring a hole into the wall with his stare, but feeling every minute detail behind him. His feet are tingling and numb, but who gives a shit? What’s happening behind him is the most important thing that’s ever happened to him. Ever.

Akira shifts. “...You’re sure about this?” His voice is so low.

Akechi’s afraid his voice will crack. He nods vigorously.

“Alright...” There’s apprehension in his voice. Uneasiness. “Okay... I’ve got this...”

There’s the touch of weight slipping against the cheeks of Akechi’s soft skin. Akechi presses his lips together tightly, closes his eyes, holds his breath...

Decades of want sits like a bomb in his chest. “Tell me,” he gasps. “Tell me how you do it.”

“Alright,” Akira whispers, his voice so much closer than Akechi expected, pressed right against his ear. “You’re open now, Goro, I can see it. So open for me... So eager...wanting... And so am I. I need it. I need you. I need to press inside of you before I die... Your heat... Your body... I see the pathway in and I...”

Akira’s silky cockhead touches Akechi’s vulnerable hole and, slowly, thoughtfully, presses inside.

Akira sighs out, long and heated. It sounds like such relief.

And Akechi...

Well. Akira was right. Somehow, Akechi was not ready.

He had enough want for the entire world and he thought that’d equate how easy it’d be to take Akira into his body. He wanted it, so surely. He had toys. He had Arsène’s cock inside him. He even had Akira partway.

It does not work that way, apparently. The entirety of Akira’s cock is a fucking monster.

Akechi bangs his head against the inside of his arms and clamps his lips down on the pained groan that’s trying to escape. No! Not today. He will not say no to this. No fucking way, he’d rather die. He’s wanted this for decades. He’s wanted Akira. Willingly given. He can’t say why it was so much easier to be taken by Akira the other night, maybe because it was such shallow penetration, maybe because Akechi was warmed up, maybe because he’s so nervous now because it’s everything he’s wanted in the exact way he wanted it, but...fuck. Fuck, fuck, FUCK. He’s got to do this. He’s got to take him.

Yoshizawa was right. Fuck her!

“How are you doing?” Akira whispers warily, hand soothing his hip in understanding. “Goro. You’ve gone really tense... You’re worrying me.”

“Fine,” he barks out, a steam leak pried loose. “Good.”

“Goro,” Akira chastises softly. He holds him by the hips, going still. “It’s okay to take it slow. It’s okay to tell me what you need. I’d prefer it, honestly. I hate all these games you like to play, I have a hard time deciphering what you really mean. Just be honest with me.”

“No,” he says desperately, gasping into the wall. “No, it’s good! It’s fine. You fit just fine. It’s no problem for me. No problem at all.”

In defeat, Akira lets the weight of his head plop down on Akechi’s shoulder. “...Liar. I’m not upset, you know. We’re not giving up. We’re just slowing down, okay...? So we can both enjoy it. It’s no fun if it’s just one of us. This isn’t a competition.”

“Yeah,” Akechi heaves, concentrating. He feels like he’s being pried apart. “Okay. Fuck. I admit it. I fucking admit it. Fuck, you’re...huge...! Why the hell are you so big. Holy shit. No wonder your girlfriend struggles to take you. What the hell?”

Akira laughs wearily. “...Yeah. It’s a pain in the ass.”

“Literally. My ass. Fucking...gigantic...legendary...cock!! Oh, fuck...! I feel like I’m being impaled by a rhino. I can’t believe I’m saying this bullshit, but Yoshizawa was right. How are you supposed to fit anywhere?!”

Akira chuckles into Akechi’s skin. “Yeah, yeah. What did I say earlier? Let me pull out for now —”

Akechi doesn’t want to hear his bullshit consideration. Akira’s trying to retreat and Akechi knows what that means. He can’t reach his arms down to grab Akira, so he does the one thing he can do before things turn sour. He does it in a moment of thoughtless panic. He juts his hips back and into Akira’s cock.

He knew it’d hurt. He also knew it’d catch Akira and lock him in. It’s worth it. Even if he screams.

A bolt of lightning pleasure sears him through his cunt all the way through the crown of his skull. And he does scream. It’s a magnificent kind of pain.

“GYAH, FUCK,” he spits curses. “FUCK. GODDAMMIT.” He grinds his nails into the wall.

“Goro!” Akira gasps in shock. “Wh-what the fuck! What’d you do?! Why would you do that!!”

He slams his fists into the wall. “Ahhhhhh, god. Oh, god. Fucking the tip is just not the fucking same. I don’t know why I thought it would be. Oh, fuck. Am I bleeding? I’ve got to be bleeding. I think I need the fucking ER... Fuck, fuck fuuuuuuck. You’re HUGE.”

“Why the hell would you —!! Oh my god. I can tell you no one’s ever fucking done this before! Gotta be fucking kidding me...you’re such a child sometimes. Stop fucking clenching so hard! Let me pull out before I fucking break you.”

“Pull out and I’ll kill you.” Akechi leans, already exhausted, against the wall. “I’m so serious. ...I’ll kill you... Let me...just let me... Let me take you...fuck. Wanna take you...”

“Goro,” Akira grumbles unhappily. “I bought extra lube. Here. We can just —”

“No, no. Don’t want your girlfriend’s lube. ...No, just give me like...twenty more seconds. ...That’s all. Just.” He tilts his neck back and breathes. Waits. Twenty seconds. Thirty... Forty...

Akira waits with him. He hesitantly reaches up and rubs soothing circles into Akechi’s arm. “...Idiot...”

Akechi takes a long moment but, as he wades back into reality, he grins, victorious. “I took you... I took all of you.”

“...Yeah,” Akira says, resigned. “You did.”

Akechi’s laughter builds and he shoves his face into his arms. “You’re inside me. I made you fit!”

“Yeah. Sure did.”

“You’re inside me.”

“I am.” Akira begins to laugh warmly.

“How am I?”

He presses the front of his body to Akechi’s back, his hand wrapped around to hold him close. “You’re...so warm.”

“Oh, god,” Akechi luxurates in the feeling. Warm, he said. Warm! Him! All his muscles go loose like putty. “...You weren’t fucking kidding about this. You’re like searing flame inside of me. I can feel your weight against the inside of my body, pushed against me from the inside out. Oh, Akira... Is that how it feels? When I take you?”

“Yes,” Akira whispers, kissing the tears off Akechi’s cheek that Akechi hadn’t even noticed. He throbs inside him, a giant unruly twitch that makes Akechi gasp. “That’s exactly it. We become one. I knew you’d like it. Isn’t it divine?”

It’s like heaven pressed inside of him. And only Akira can press it in deeper. It’s still weird. It feels odd in a way that Akira touching Akechi’s cock does not, but he likes it. He loves it. He can definitely get used to this sort of weird.

Despite Akechi’s best efforts, it still feels vastly different from Arsène’s cock buried inside. It feels so different from everything. It’s Akira. Akira’s legendary cock that chose Akechi’s hole and remains buried.

Akechi is over the moon.

He’s still laughing deliriously. Maybe Akira’s cock broke his brain. “I did it.”

“Very proud of you. Very impressed.”

“You fit. Is it okay for you? Is it good?”

“Inside of you? Goro, it’s incredible...”

“Cool. Cool, cool, cool. Yeah. Okay, then. Well. Shut up and fuck me, then.”

Akira laughs softly in his ear, curling his fingers over Akechi’s hips. “You’re insane,” he says, words bathed in fondness. “I’ve never met anyone as crazy as you.”

“Akira.”

“Yes, sir.” He kisses the side of his cheek. “Whatever you command.”

Slowly, with care, Akira begins to move. He barely pulls out and he hardly enters any further than he already was. But he builds up a careful steady pace, pushing Akechi into the wall, pressing his entire front up against it.

“Good?” Akira asks softly.

“Mmm...fuck, you’re huge.”

“How would you know?”

Akechi laughs deep in his throat.

Akira joins in, pressing his face into his shoulder. “I’m just kidding. Do you need anything?”

“No...” Akechi arches back into Akira and closes his eyes. Bliss. “What do I feel like?” He asks faintly.

Akira only has one word. A low, taffy-like, “Heaven.”

“That’s it,” Akechi breathes. He wants to hold Akira closer, but he’s all tied up. All he can do is take it. “Me too. ...Pleasure yourself inside me. Make it good for you... Do what you want with me.”

“You too,” Akira groans, running both hands higher, feeling up Akechi’s breasts. Akechi’s whole body jolts with heat. It’s too much, coming from both sides. He nearly comes right then and there. Akira pinches hard at the nipples, rubs them between his fingers, tearing small shocked whimpers from Akechi. “I want you to feel good too.”

“Oh. Is that...is that an order, sir?”

Akira groans lowly, giving a powerful sudden shove in. “Cheeky little brat... Yeah, that’s an order...”

“Yes... I’ll do it then. But you have to fuck me nice and hard. Harder than your girls.”

Akira growls, shoving in harder.

“Come on,” Akechi laughs deliriously. “Surely you can do better than that?”

Akechi gasps as he’s rammed into the brick wall, the whole of his front pressed flat against it. His cock gets trapped between the wall and his stomach as Akira rails him hard into the store.

“Oh,” Akechi gasps.

“Is that better for you, little brat?” Ramming and ramming away.

Oh, fuck. He’s got him all riled up. Akechi loves it. Wants more. He’s scraping along the walls, bobbing up and down on it, being plowed into by a fucking rhinosaurus for sure. Akira’s so meaty and thick inside of him, he’s pressing up his throat, shoving the rest of Akechi away.

He can barely breathe, let alone taunt. “I...I...” He forces out through tight lungs. “I’ve had toys that fuck better.”

His feet lift from the ground from being fucked so hard and he laughs, dazed. This can’t be real. This has to be a dream.

“Akira,” he gasps, half crazed. “Akira! It’s so good.”

“I know,” Akira moans, hands grabbing and pulling at Akechi all over. He can’t seem to get enough, wants it all. “Oh, fuck, Goro...you feel so good around my cock.”

“Uuhhh... Oh, fuck, oh, fuck. I’ve had... I’ve had...”

“Still going on about that? What’s better than this, Goro?” Akira heaves, hands pressed into the wall over his head, caging him in. “Tell me.”

“I...I don’t... Nothing. Nothing!”

“That’s right. I’m the best you’ve had.”

“And I’m the best you’ve had!” Akechi gasps.

“Yes. Yes, oh, my god, yes. By a fucking mile. Absolutely. Fuck.”

It’s so sloppy and loud, the sound of Akira slapping into Akechi’s body. It echoes off the alleyway’s brick walls, twining up with their desperate voices.

“Harder!” Akechi grits his teeth for it, in both agony and bliss. It’s huge. It’s taking up all of him. “HARDER, AKIRA. FUCK ME HARDER THAN YOU’VE EVER FUCKED ANYONE ELSE. DECIMATE ME.”

Akira thrashes him against the wall, his huge cock shoving completely out and then sheathing all the way back in, doubletime. He grips onto Akechi by the waist tight, digging into his sensitive spot and sending lightning through him. He whispers through gritted teeth a devastating command that rips and tears: “Come for me.”

Akechi’s breath cuts off and he didn’t know he was ready, but apparently no part of him can ever deny a request from Akira, let alone a command breathed hot into his ear. Akechi explodes. It feels like his whole body does it. Rips the insides of him away and gushes like violence against the wall as he chokes and sobs in Akira’s arms.

It’s rough. It’s terrifying how rough. Akira’s girls probably would not even want this. He’s getting scratched up by bricks, elbows gouged, knees banged around. Even as he rides his high, Akira continues ramming into him with the force of an adult bull. And he feels like he’s being tossed about at sea, rolled around on a deck in the middle of a storm, untethered, hurtling through dangerous space.

Akechi would have it no other way.

It’s so punishing, taking Akira’s cock like this. Coming by his hand, by his body, like this. It’s the best feeling in the world. Beyond dreams.

When his orgasm is finished aggressively wringing him dry, Akechi sags backward into Akira with a groan. An elegant arch, a crescent moon faded into his hold, arms hung like the dead over Akira’s back. His vision is pure white. His mouth agape. Hearing obliterated.

Akira holds him tight around his waist and nuzzles into his shoulder, groaning gutturally. They stay like that for a long while.

After what feels like a half hour, Akira slowly pulls out with a long shuddering breath. Akechi groans, harsh sensation zinging through his teeth.

Lost in the raging pleasure in his body as he was, Akechi didn’t even realize Akira had come, but hot liquid pours out with him and drools down Akechi’s legs as his cock uncorks itself. He shudders at its slow trail. It feels so violating in the best way.

They both slide to the ground, panting. When Akira sits back, there’s a loud plastic crack. They both look wearily over. The cake has been flattened into smithereens. Akira’s hand is covered in fluffy white. They laugh faintly.

“...Fuck. There goes the cake,” Akechi says, voice dragging. He rolls his sweaty head against Akira’s and stays there.

Akira reaches his non-cake hand up and puts it over Akechi’s head, keeping him pressed against him. “Oh. Oh well. I didn’t tell her about it so... We’ve already ordered it. She’ll have it at the wedding.”

“Mm.” Akechi shifts his head and stares at Akira through half-hooded eyes. He cannot believe what just happened between them. Akira wanted it. Akira asked for it. Akira pleasured him of his own accord.

Akira tilts his head and smiles back at him warmly. There’s something about him...has always been. Akira represents everything good in this world and that hasn’t changed. It’s just Akechi’s realized only just now how much more good there is.

He grabs Akira’s cake hand, takes his fingers, and puts them into his mouth, sucking off the taste of raspberry cake. “...Thank you,” he whispers, licking sensually. “That was wonderful.”

Akira’s eyelashes flutter as he watches him darkly. He looks so youthful in this moment, his lips so plump and red, his eyes sparkling and alive. “...You’re kinda crazy, you know that?”

“What makes you say that?” He pulls his mouth off with a pop and dives back in at a new angle.

“You have to ask?” He laughs and shakes his head, looking at his hands being tended to by Akechi like they just did something mind blowingly new. “...I liked it too. So much. We... You and I...” He says gently, “It was really nice. There’s no one else like you.”

A flush of joy floods through Akechi. Akira liked it. He liked fucking Akechi.

Energized, Akechi grins and reaches his feet out, still bound. He tries to get them on Akira, anywhere will do, but Akira easily bats him away and grabs him by the ankles, tugging him so he slides down to the ground on his back. “What the hell? You’re disgusting!”

“No fair!” Akechi cries, staring pitifully at the sky, unable to lift himself to look at Akira. “That is not how we play. Manhandling me. I’m at a clear disadvantage!”

“Hey, you started it. Don’t try to kick me if you don’t want war.” Akira scoots Akechi higher on his lap.

“War! And how exactly are we going to have a war —”

Something thick and huge slides into Akechi’s body and he gasps, eyes blowing wide at the brick wall behind, words stolen from him. His head falls back and his eyes close down.

Akira fucks Akechi a second time. He does it without warning. He pulls Akechi up by the legs and just...fucks him. Fucks him so well. Grunting and moaning and animalistic. He doesn’t talk at all.

Akechi lays out and lets it happen. He doesn’t fight, doesn’t taunt. He keeps his eyes closed and tries to memorize this feeling of just...being taken. No hesitancies, no questions, no fear. Akira knows Akechi wants him, so he goes for it. Akechi likes that very very much. They are that close. They are that loved by the other. Just...take what you want from me. You don’t even have to ask.

It feels so good this time. And when Akira comes, hot and sudden inside Akechi, he feels it pouring into his core. Memorizes it. Bathes in it. So good. His soul is nourished by it, Akira’s milk.

“Like that,” Akira pants, pressing forward on Akechi’s legs to lean over them and hang in Akechi’s face. “I win.”

Akechi doesn’t even remember what they were talking about anymore. Doesn’t follow the thread. He just stares up into Akira’s face, pressed so near to his — at this face of his, a face Akechi’s held so dear to his heart for as long as he can truly remember, at this boy he once knew that’s grown into someone Akechi has learned to love somehow even more over the years. There is no replacing him, this is his Akira, the one who has his entire heart — and he feels...everything.

“...Akira,” he whispers, heat high in his cheeks, watching him unhurriedly. Everything feels rushed. Everything, all the time. But, right here, right now, between the two of them, Akechi feels so mind numbingly content. There is no where he’d rather be, no one he’d rather see. This moment in time right here is all he could ever need, ever desire. He’s home.

Akira watches him back, eyes scanning over his face in leisure, like he’s mapping it, thinking the same things Akechi is. “Mm?”

Akechi wants to finger Akira’s cum out of himself and lick it up, eat it all into his mouth and have it power him from within. But he’s afraid this Akira is not ready for that. He’s already been deemed crazy and he has been very non-crazy this entire time, he thinks. “...What’d you do to me...? ...I liked that. A lot. You were right. It is very nice on the other side.”

He smiles with that same warmth.

“Thank you for showing me the...hm...Akira experience. It was world shifting.”

“And thank you very much for the Goro experience. I feel like I’m the one who’s just been fucked somehow...”

Akechi grins back. “You know what that feels like now.” Thanks to him.

Akira looks back in surprise, bangs falling over his eyes. He brushes them back and holds them there. “I do, huh?”

“Which do you prefer?” Akira’s still inside of him and it feels nice like this, being so casually connected. “Top or bottom?”

Akira bites at his lip as he casts his eyes up thoughtfully. “...Hard to say, I mean, this felt incredible. I like giving you pleasure. I like being able to hold you as tightly as I like without worrying I’m going to break you.”

“Ha. You worry about breaking Yoshizawa?”

“Sometimes. But...I think if I had to choose one for the rest of my life, it’d be... I like...” It seems difficult for Akira to force out. He takes a deep breath. Says very delicately, avoiding Akechi’s eyes, “...I like being your bottom... I like being controlled by you. Handled and caged by you. I like knowing you have me, that you’re taking pleasure from me... The way you grab me by the head and just...tear into me. It’s so intense in a way I’ve never felt before. I don’t know. It’s so new too. I mean... Maybe it’s the novelty of it. I don’t know. But it feels...” He shudders, pupils shivering oddly in the moonlight.

“It’s okay,” Akechi says, gazing up at him gently. He rests his legs on Akira’s shoulder. “You don’t have to defend yourself and your pleasures to me. I just wanted to know your honest thoughts, one way or another.”

“Oh.” Akira presses his lips together tightly and looks down, tips of his ears red. “Then...then I like being your bottom. I feel cleansed after, like you’ve pulled me apart and put me back together, new, better. You?”

“I like you beneath me. I like you wrecked. I like you weeping. ...But this is very nice too. I’d take either any day, all day.”

Akira snorts and grabs Akechi by the nose. “Weeping? See? This is why you’re crazy.”

Akechi grins cat-like at him, unable to take his eyes away from Akira’s gorgeous face. He snaps at Akira’s fingers with his teeth. “I may be. Funnily enough, I don’t believe I heard any complaints earlier though...”

Akira’s eyes twinkle as he looks down at him. “Fucking like that, I doubt you ever will...” And he bends his neck to kiss him.

They kiss, open mouthed and hot. They can hear and feel the other’s breath against their tongues, taste their sweat. Their teeth clack and they tilt their heads to kiss even deeper, until it feels like they’re just taking. Until Akira’s cock begins to grow hard over Akechi’s hip again and he starts grinding into him, groaning deep in his throat. They kiss and they kiss and they kiss... For god knows how long...

Still, Akechi cannot believe he gets this. Gets to look at Akira’s face, let alone kiss it like this. Like it’s his. Akira was angelic and beautiful as a child but now is positively delectable as an adult. He’s gotten only better as time’s gone on, beauty multiplying and multiplying in on itself until it created this perfect being. What will he be like in five years? Ten? Akechi is in awe that Akira’s right here, with him. Will he always be? Will Akechi be able to hold this face in the future and bathe in its holy perfection?

Akira’s phone beside them begins buzzing and they jump. They break away from being locked in the other’s face and look over at the same time, eyes wide.

“Sh-shit,” Akira whispers thickly, wiping the back of his hand over his spit-coated mouth. “...I...I forgot about... About everything else...”

It’s night. The dead of night, from the looks of it. The stars are shining, full strength. The moon watches them from the crack between buildings overhead. Akechi feels softened, like melted butter. Kissed into a pliant boneless mess. “...Look at the moon,” he hums dreamily. “We’ve been here for...hours, I think. Fucking each other’s brains out.”

“Fuck. I... Yeah. I should... She’ll freak out...” He leans over, rustling through his clothes frantically, and answers, breathless. “Hey,” he says, far too bright. “How are you feeling? Sorry. Yeah, sorry. Should’ve texted. We’re alive still. Goro and I got caught checking out all the little shops on main street. So many... Did you know there’s a stationary shop here? They sell paper! Fancy glitter gel pens. You’d love it. Huh? Oh. Yeah, most are all still open at this time.” He looks down the alleyway where the neon signs remain lit. OPEN. “It is weird, huh?”

Akira hasn’t pulled out yet. His weight remains sunken over the back of Akechi’s thighs, pressing him down like a mating press. He took him like that, didn’t he? Akechi hadn’t even realized. He’s been mating pressed. Wow.

Akira stares thoughtfully at the wall, eyes distant as he wipes a hand over his mouth and keeps it there. “Oh. Oh, really? Wow. That’s...great. Yeah, totally. Definitely looking forward to it. Yeah, I — mmhmm. Yeah, I bought some. Your sister went back home? Oooh. Okay. Well, we’ll be home really soon, so just...yeah, wait up for me, okay? I’ll tell him. Love you. See you in a bit.” Akira hangs up and tosses his phone away with a groan. He hangs even more limply over Akechi’s body, dead.

“What’d she say?” Akechi asks softly, casually raking his hands through Akira’s soft hair.

“God...” Akira sighs, letting his face smear over Akechi’s calves. He mumbles into them. “She says she’s feeling a lot better and ready to try again when I get home... My ass can’t take this.”

“Ha. Sounds like you’re up for a challenge tonight.”

“Yeah...sounds like it.” Akira pushes his head back slightly into Akechi’s palm, seeking comfort. “At least I was able to come now... That should make it easier. Earlier was just...fuck. Literal torture.”

“Yes. At least there’s that.”

“She says to tell you ‘hi’.”

Akechi continues raking his hands through Akira’s hair. So soft. It’s always been like this. Thick wild curls that somehow look fucking amazing the second he rolls out of bed. No matter what you do to it, Akira looks like a fucking god. That’s just how things go for him.

“You okay?” Akira whispers.

“Hmm? Oh. Yes. I think you’ve gone and eviscerated my brain this time. There isn’t a single thought inside of it. I just feel...wonderfully mild and pleasant. Talk about your Sumi all you want, I honestly don’t give a shit. Touching your hair is wonderful.”

Akira chuckles lowly, tilting his head so it’s resting on Akechi’s other leg. “Good. What time is it? Can you tell from the moon?”

“Highest moon is at midnight, I believe.”

“Looks pretty high to me. Might be a little over.”

“Hmm. I would say so.”

Akira turns his head in Akechi’s hand and looks up at him, still nestled over his legs, clinging. “...That feels really nice,” he says, letting the words settle over them for a long while before taking in a deep long breath. “I don’t want to go home yet.”

Akechi stares back. And it feels like they’re communicating to each other without words. If he’s understanding Akira correctly, and he thinks he is, Akechi cannot believe his luck tonight. He feels like maybe he’s been wrong about so many horrendous things.

He licks his lips. “Then don’t,” he whispers.

Akira’s Adam’s apple bobs as he stares back. It’s the intensity of it. An odd energetic kind of charge builds up between them, connects them even deeper together. It feels like a challenge.

Without breaking eye contact, Akira reaches over to the cake in the box, grabs an indulgent handful, and smears it deliberately over the head of Akechi’s erect cock.

Akechi blinks. The strange strangled noise that comes from the back of his throat is not on purpose. Soft, silky...sticky. That is...not what he was expecting. At all. He blinks down at his poor cock between his legs, smothered in white frosting. He is used to cum smeared over it, cake not so much. He doesn’t see the point, really, besides making a gross mess; it feels like a gross mess, until Akira places both hands on the ground, bends over it, and dips his head down over Akechi’s cock.

He licks the cake off thoroughly, wrapping his tongue around the head and sucking off the delicate fluff.

Akechi cannot compute as he stares at Akira. “Wh-what are you doing?” He breathes.

Akira presses a kiss to the top, cream on his lips. He flicks his gaze up to Akechi through dark hooded eyes as he swallows the bite in his mouth and licks his lips with his pink tongue. “What does it look like, Goro?”

“You’re using my cock as a fork?” He tries to sound incredulous, but his voice cracks halfway through and his face flames red.

Akira laughs silently, back shaking, but he resumes dutifully sucking Akechi’s cock.

It feels so good like this. To be used as a plate. Or a fork. Or whatever. To be used at all, in whatever way Akira wants. He wants wedding cake with his cock? Then he’ll get it.

Two can play at this game. Akechi lifts his arms up and over his head, twisting at his torso and reaching his hands into the cake container.

Akira makes a soft humming sound, staying right where he is fondling Akechi’s cock with his tongue, but his eyes follow Akechi’s movement.

Painting a long strip from his cock to his sternum, Akechi smears his handful up his stomach, laughing slightly as Akira gives him a wicked grin. Without breaking their connection, Akira crawls over Akechi with his mouth lowering down to his lower pelvis, sucking off the trail of cream with a soft moan.

What began a bit odd to Akechi (though who is he to judge?), is quickly becoming hotter than fucking anything. Akira, eating him up. Akira, desiring his skin. Akechi’s getting lightheaded watching from up above. His skin is so sensitive already and Akira’s touch alone lights him on fire. His tongue, his mouth, sends Akechi into delirium. He arches into the feel of Akira exploring him, digging his hands into Akira’s hair with a full thick squish.

“Oh —” He blinks his eyes open. He forgot there was cake in his hands.

Akira snorts as he comes up slightly, still hunched over Akechi’s stomach. He swipes the back of his hand across his face. “...Hey.”

He lifts his sticky hands between them, looking down guiltily. “Sorry. Forgot...” A laugh bursts out of him. “How did that make your hair look even more styled? You’re ready for the red carpet. Fucker.”

Akira smiles sharply and rolls his eyes before leaning up and licking the palm of Akechi’s hands one by one.

Akechi draws in a sharp breath and locks in place. Can’t breathe.

Akira attends to him slowly, not self conscious in the least, closing his lips as he reaches the end of Akechi’s fingers and sucking them off with a small enticing pop. Cleaned off thoroughly.

Akechi watches on in awe, completely enchanted, hands shaking. Akira’s enjoying himself, his eyes closed, his jaw wide as he mouths up Akechi’s spread fingers individually, tilting his neck back as he moans softly. Akechi doesn’t dare move. He looks like a thief in handcuffs, submitting to Akira. And Akira, in the prisoner’s cells, fucking the inmate. If that’s what Akira wants.

But it feels so good, having his attention like this. Not even as a whole. Akira’s diving into the details. Tongue dipped into the sensitive split between each finger, tickling into the nerves there that don’t often feel much of anything. Akechi can feel it in his back somehow. Definitely in his cock. He’s breathless from how much Akira’s making him feel.

Dark flicks of his smoldering gaze pinning Akechi as he tilts his head for a new angle. On his hands and knees over him.

When he’s done with Akechi’s hands, Akira turns his gaze downward and goes back to attending to his stomach, licking up his sternum, his own hands spread wide over his waist.

Akechi exhales sharply, bolts of pleasure tearing up his sides. “How was it...?” Akechi asks, his voice so much more breathless than he thought it’d sound. “Sucking off my hands like a cock...?”

Akira flicks his dark eyes up, knowing smile on his lips. “Good,” he breathes, using his arms to push himself up so he can dip down into Akechi’s face and kiss him deeply for a moment. He tastes like raspberry, so unbelievably sweet. He has cream on his mouth that he kisses into Akechi’s. And it makes Akechi dumb from how much it messes with his senses. The taste of the raspberries on his tongue, the explosion of softly spun sugar hanging in the air between them, breathed in and filling Akechi’s brain. The sticky slide of Akechi’s hands pressed to Akira’s abdomen. The darkness that consumes Akechi’s vision as he closes his eyes, listening to the sweet music of Akira’s pleasure-filled sighs.

Just to see what will happen, without looking, Akechi digs his hand into the containers and runs it down the entire length of his shaft, coating himself. Akira’s eyes are closed but, one more kiss pressed to Akechi’s mouth and then Akira rears back, moaning deeply as he resumes his very serious work on Akechi’s cock.

Akechi melts as he’s taken into Akira’s wet heat, letting out a relieved sigh, bathing in pure bliss. He licks the white fluff off his lips as Akira does the same to his slit, wiggling the tip of his tongue inside.

Akira stays hunched as he sucks off Akechi’s cock, using his hands to hold both sides of his hair back away from his face. He knows he’s being watched and he’s putting on a deliberate show. There’s something about the vulnerability of being so careful and wanting it to go nicely, neatly, that makes Akechi want to fuck — in —

Akechi’s breathing is already harsh and fast. “...Faster, Akira,” he whispers, reaching his hands down to touch him on the knee. “I need more.”

What a good boy. Akira changes the angle and attempts to pick up the pace.

“Deeper.” Akechi demands breathlessly. “Try taking more of me. I know you can do it. You’ve done it before.”

“Mmm...” Akira reaches one hand down to rub over Akechi’s belly. It’s sticky now, but he holds his hand there like he’s offering support. Or asking for it.

Akira’s trying. The sincerity of it is rather heartwarming. The beauty of it. So beautiful, in fact, that Akechi feels he does not deserve this.

The glint of moonlight overhead catches the band on Akira’s finger. Akira’s engagement ring. It shines over Akechi’s stomach, something that has no place here.

Akechi stares at it for a long moment before he says, “Akira. Relax your throat. Take a deep breath.”

“Mmm..? MMF —!”

Akechi snaps his hips up and begins. He presses his feet into the floor for anchorage and thrusts up into Akira’s throat, going wild. Akira gags, both hands flying out to grab onto the floor, but he doesn’t fall back. He anchors down, hands balling into fists, his back bending oddly, as his eyes roll back into his skull. And he just...takes it. Gagging. Heaving. Staying still so Akechi can use him. A valiant effort.

With each sloppy jab of his cock’s thick width blasting through Akira’s stretched lips, the cake spreads out more and more over Akira’s face. As Akechi fucks it in, he doesn’t give him relief or a moment to breathe.

Still, Akira doesn’t pull away.

Akechi loves this. He wants more of this. He’s locked onto his target and there’s so much more he can do. He shifts his tied legs back through Akira’s arm and to the side and then opens his thighs wide to loop them around Akira’s body, capturing him within the cage of his legs. He latches on tightly and, twisting from his core, uses the hold to topple Akira to his side. He lands straight on the floor.

Their positions switch. Akira tumbles down and Akechi uses the momentum to lift himself up. He kneels over Akira, blotting out the moonlight.

“Ha!” He breathes wildly. His ankles and wrists may still be tied, but he uses his thighs and hips to pin Akira to the ground.

“Mm... What are you —?” Akira blinks up into the sight incredulously right before Akechi’s cock rams home, gagging him yet again.

Akira moans around him, eyes crossing, defeated. He’s been effectively wrestled to the ground. It’s squishy this time, with the cake. They’ve made a mess all over each other. The sweetness of it makes it feel so different though. Slides strangely through Akira’s lips and down his throat, like its own interesting brand of thick messy lube.

Akira’s moans too, they’re also different. More stuffed, less coherent. His eyes are still rolled back into his head. His arms coming up, but having nowhere to go, so they twitch and clench mid-air, uselessly. He’s getting force fed both cake and cock. And he takes it like such a good boy.

Akechi fucks in wildly. Can’t navigate easily, but Akira seems so shocked he doesn’t resist. There’s no need to fight. They’re both on the same team here. They both want the same thing. Pure dominating pleasure.

Throwing himself forward, Akechi curls and looks beneath him, down and over the length of Akira’s strewn out body below. His arms and legs are bent whatever way they landed when Akechi threw him to the floor. He looks like a broken doll, discarded in this dark lonely alleyway to be used however the predator pleases.

When he pops out of Akira’s mouth, Akira makes a small sharp inhale that sounds abused and guttural. He’s a fine mess. Cake is smashed all over his face, across his cheeks, beneath his jawline. Some even made it to his forehead. It does not look pure anymore and Akechi wonders just how salty it must taste mixed with his own secret ingredient. He would ask Akira, but Akira doesn’t seem to be in any condition to relay the details at the moment, eyes still rolled back into his skull from shock. Still that beautiful broken doll.

Akechi grins wickedly. This is what he can do. Yoshizawa couldn’t do this to her precious Akira, could she? Wouldn’t even if she desperately tried. And he’s not even done with him. He claws down Akira’s body, shifting Akira’s legs with his own bound hands.

“Goro...” Akira murmurs drunkenly, eyes spinning in fucked circles. His breath catches, so weak. “...Goro...?”

He strokes Akira’s jawline. “Shh, shh, love...everything’s alright.”

“Mmm... I —”

“Quiet,” Akechi whispers, thumbing his sticky fingers into his mouth.

Akira goes quiet.

Batting Akira’s thighs open with the back of his wrist, Akechi spreads them wide, lines his cock up...and thrusts himself inside.

Akira gives a soft cry, body jolting. “Goro! How? You’re supposed to be bound!”

“Quiet, I said,” he purrs as he flattens him to the floor.

Akechi fucks him raw.

Akira’s out of it. He’s so befuddled by the turn of events that he doesn’t protest again, doesn’t question it. Stays so perfectly still. So Akechi can fuck into his mouth with his fingers.

“Mmm,” Akira whines, eyes closed tightly. “Ah...”

In one sharp movement backward, Akechi pulls out. He uses his knees and elbows to rotate the dizzied Akira around onto his front and to his front he goes. The long sturdy line of his back awaits Akechi below, the soft silky smoothness of his skin, the curve of his ass, and the docile line of his legs waiting for Akechi’s direction. So perfect for Akechi...so he shoves his hips in hard and ravages him straight into the floor. Ravages him, scraping him back and forth, until Akira’s crying and mumbling nonsense, body jolting and vibrating like a ragdoll. But quietly. Because Akechi told him to. And with his sweetly swirling fucked out eyes, Akira has no choice but to obey. He’s just a caged animal getting what he’s due.

The night is still young in this neon lit shopping strip. Though the alleyway is dark, the low illumination streaming in from the lights nearby reflects off their sweaty shimmering skin. They are so caught up within the other, locked and fighting into the other, they barely even notice when the light turns to shadow for a moment. They keep fucking like rabbits in heat.

But someone’s walking into the alleyway. Or stumbling, more like. Drunk and feeling along the wall to make it in.

Somehow, it’s Akira who sees them first, cheek pressed to one of their shirts on the ground. He huffs out unintelligibly, but does not move. “Mm... Mmmm... Goro.”

Akechi sees them. He doesn’t stop. “Shhh. Quiet, Akira,” he crouches down to whisper poison into his ear. “Or they’ll hear you, won’t they? Is that what you want? To attract them to such a sight?” He’s curled over Akira like an animal, fucking in wildly, and he has no intention of stopping.

Akira’s caught in Akechi’s legs like prey, tied to his will. When Akechi throws his arms over Akira’s head to claim his top half too, he’s even more tangled in place. Akechi pulls him up against his chest, a helpless little thing that wiggles and fights slightly, but too weak and bound up tightly in his arms to get away.

Akechi shifts them both onto their sides, so that Akira is lifted up, the front of his beautiful body pointed toward the street. Exposed. As Akechi curls around him from behind, arms and legs clinging to him with sharp nails and a wicked grip, he hides within his shadow, safe. Akira’s his shield.

Akira, a pretty delicate butterfly meticulously pinned to a corkboard, an art piece with chains in a fucked up sort of gallery for men who have too much money. He wails, captured, his body jutted out, naked nipples erect and bowed forward, his hips being thrown forward and back as Akechi shoves his cock in and out into Akira’s tight cunt. Akira’s a mouse caught in a snake’s tightly wrapped coils. He’s a human with a vampire latched into his soft pale skin. He’s Akira, Akechi’s Akira, forced on display. Such moonlit skin bathed in the raunchy sounds of their rabid sex, soft desperate panting and mournful moans as they ooze and leak pre-cum mixed with their raspberry and lemon cake. There’s no stopping this. No stopping them.

Akira’s arms hang uselessly over his head, bent and resting on the ground. His legs shift back and forth as Akechi fucks into the hold in between them.

The two men stand a foot away, too drunk to make immediate sense of what they’re hearing and seeing at their feet.

“What the hell is that...?” One mumbles. “A fucking demon? What’s that weird noise?”

“They’re going to see you, Akira,” Akechi whispers darkly into his ear, biting at his neck. “See you like this, getting so helplessly fucked. So completely dominated.”

Akira’s eyes roll back. His arms stay overhead, fingertips twitching. “Auuuh....”

The other man curses. “Flashlight...where’s the dang flashlight... I’m about to be murdered.”

Their phone’s light blazes into the dark alleyway and they swing it down, directly on Akira’s milky pale flesh, lighting him up like a beacon in the pitch black darkness.

Akira’s basically neon. His cute pink cock bobs sideways with gravity as he stays caught in Akechi’s body, forced to the front, pelvis being pushed back and forth toward the men with the wild motion of Akechi’s incessant fucking. Akechi hides beneath the shadow of Akira’s body, only legs and arms clamped around his obedient prize.

The men stare in stunned awe. Akechi can only imagine what they see. Cake and cum melted all over Akira’s fucked out face as he’s forced to be ravaged in front of them. Akira’s neck writhes back and forth beneath the attention. He moans pathetically, body snapping forward, forward, forward.

“Holy fuck,” one of them whispers. “He’s getting fucked out of his mind.”

He is. He whines in response to them, thick eyelashes fluttering weakly beneath the light that bleaches him out. “Oh...” He tries to move his legs, but Akechi tightens his thighs and chokes off the movement. Akira’s back bends even more ludicrously, an arch pushed out toward the men. “Haaaahh....”

“H-he’s...sort of beautiful...isn’t he...?”

Yes. Akechi’s glad someone agrees! What a wonderful thing to have someone else besides him realize what blessed act is happening in this dark dank alleyway right now. It’s the truth! This isn’t fantasy, this isn’t a dream that gets to flit away later. Someone is seeing this. Witnessing. Watching Akira become his.