Chapter Text
A thin layer of cold fog loomed around the corners of Kamerocho’s city streets, hazy neon bleeding through a drizzle of rain. Puddles reflecting bright reds, greens, and yellows in a striking yet blurry image, the night was as empty as it was alive. Kashiwagi glared at the sky, twisting his umbrella in his hands while his cigarette burned closer to his fingers, a dreary night was worth a pick-me-up, but to him, no amount of booze would quite do the trick.
A handful of cars slid past the highway behind him, the small waves lurching up from under their tires splashed the back of his slacks, and his scowl grew more pronounced, he flicked the cigarette butt into the nearest puddle and began to stalk his way down the road, turning down a familiar bout of interconnected alleyways to a usual haunt.
He eyed the occasional fellow pedestrian, all of them with their attention pointed elsewhere entirely unimpressed and unaware of his presence. He still looked to their lapels for a glimmer of a pin, but it seems even family men were tucked away somewhere else tonight. Likely nursing beer or whiskey in bars that ranged from upscale clubs to cozy holes to the ever-so-popular slummy little shacks nestled into old buildings that no gentrified money-hungry scoundrel has dared touch yet. Always yet, as more and more of these places are eaten up, spat out, and their bones reconstructed into something more palatable.
The place he’s going has stood the test of time so far, he lamented that he no longer had as much of that seemingly endless money the bubble had afforded him. He was certainly comfortable of course and would be for a very long time even if he barely worked, but in those days he could've quite discreetly kept a hole like this open without alerting attention. Time was not on the side of a place like this, instead, he resolved to use it as much as he can. Indulgence was a form of stress relief and patronage as a source of thanks for every night he’d spent here. Mind hazily drunk and body reacting shakily to drugs and sex.
He should've thanked the man who brought him here years ago, but the expression on Kazama’s face when Kashiwagi had stumbled out of one of those little rooms at twenty years old, loopy with pleasure and halfway hungover told him he knew the gesture was appreciated.
He still never wanted to be caught by him slumming it up as he did. Kazama wasn't exactly a jealous man, but at this point, he might disapprove considering his age. Kashiwagi wasn't the oldest there, no matter the group that night that title would always go to the Madam who he’d managed more than one night within his time here. Something of a privilege if he understood right, (truth be told he didn't remember much of what she had said either time), but he noted the patrons and entertainers had skewed younger over the years. At least one girl had only been seventeen, lying through her teeth to the madam as she needed the money. he recalled a bit of repulsion there. Refusing to go through with it, god she’d been only a year older than the boys at the orphanage, he never saw her again, hoping the plane ticket back home and the wad of yen he’d shoved in her purse when she went to dry her tears in the bathroom had helped.
He shook the thought, even this experience hadn't exactly deterred him. Though he’d made many excuses for some questionably aged lovers considering, he wasn't going to fuck a teenager. It usually wasn't that underhanded or sleazy, an acceptable amount of grime existed in its corners, and he simply tried not to get his suit dirty.
He stopped outside a particularly narrow alley, red neon light pouring through the crack between two buildings inviting him closer. He afforded himself one last glance around and ducked inside, folding up his umbrella and gazing up at the small neon sign he’d been huddled under many dozens of times. The outline of the queen painted on every pack of cards encased in a diamond brazenly told nothing and everything of what was to come inside, the building didn't have an official name, likely as there was certainly no legality to how it ran. Kazama had simply called it the house of cards. Kashiwagi himself referred to it as Queen’s, though only in his own mind. One didn't speak of it, only taking trusted individuals on pilgrimages down this side of town, with the expectation that lips were to be sealed. Though he never had the chance to do so himself, who would he take? The boys perhaps, but somehow he couldn't imagine either of them here with him, as promiscuous as one of them was rumored to be.
He approached the door, With a few knocks, a latch was opened on the other side, allowing him access only to a pair of dark eyes with thick mascara and crow's feet around them. The door opened revealing a thin middle-aged woman, her long black hair pulled back to reveal soft, beautifully aged features, her wide smile reminiscent of a snake in the grass. The madam had a different name every night for different men, he met her initially as Asami and she’d taken on many names since never minding what he or anyone else called her.
“Kashiwagi-san, it's nice to see you,” Her smile widened as she invited him inside bowing and taking his umbrella, offering her hand for his suit jacket as well. He always hesitated but gave in soon after. Her endless teases reminding him that he was here to relax echoed before she had time to even say them. “It's been a while, I almost thought you’d forgotten me.”
“Of course not, Asami-san.”
“So stiff, Kashiwagi-san, we’re not here to do business. So, what’s brought you in tonight hm? You look like you could relax.” She slipped into the coat room and returned holding a small bag of what he knew to be a sort of reward for being a semi-regular customer. He simply shook his head.
“You know I can't tell you, I've been quite busy is all.” He sighed, thinking back to his problems for a moment, the rising tensions forcing him to be certain that something was amiss. An image came to him briefly, a certain one-eyed friend covered only in a towel on their hotel bed, cigarette in one hand, tv remote in the other, and dead-tired stare focused on some commercial while Kashiwagi had busied himself with redressing. He remembered how haggard he sounded, taking a long draw off his cigarette and muttering a cryptic ” We’re all gonna be fucked real soon, just you wait.” He never did explain what he meant, but his sentiment was troubling regardless of the source possibly being a drained haze after his usual coke binges.
“One day ill get something out of you,” Asami teased gesturing for him to follow her downstairs as he pushed the thought from his mind. He’d been occasionally mocked for his stiff attitude, and it didn't bother him, but now was no time to be worrying himself into impotence.
The room downstairs was bathed in a disorienting red light like he’d entered a hazy fever dream with the thick scent of perfume and sex battling for dominance. Jazz drifted throughout the room as did women in tight, short dresses and lingerie, carrying drink trays or standing near the bar smoking. A handful of people, both men and women, sat in leather chairs many of whom had at least one of the entertainers on their arm, the others seemed to be waiting their turn for one of the rooms off to the side, each framed with thick red curtains and paintings of various kinds, some of various animals, many of beautiful women. Everything was very well decorated but his eyes were trained on one of two girls dancing near the back of the room on a slightly raised platform, both of them wore dog-shaped masks one gold and the other white.
The one in the gold mask caught his eye more, she had a beautiful body, filling out her costume in a more satisfying way than her thinner counterpart, but Asami tapped his arm before he considered too much more if she would be his company for the night. When he glanced at her she simply shook her head and leaned closer, mischief in her smile.
“Don't go choosing someone already, I've got someone special here tonight that I think you'll like to meet,” she winked and invited him over to a seat in the corner. He had to admit he found this fascinating. Typically that meant being led to her room, but that didn't seem to be the case tonight, as she motioned for a girl with bleach-blonde hair closer with a tray of drinks. The girl smiled a bit sheepishly at him when he took a glass and nodded his thanks. She must be relatively new.
“Am I just lucky then?” he asked between sips of whiskey, Asami cutting lines on a large mirror and tossing back her drink before answering.
“I'd say so, she's something special. You don't mind a bit of an…unconventional girl do you?”
“No, I don't mind. You know that.” He had a vague assumption as to what she might mean, though she was usually more upfront with it, hed often been trusted with girls equipped a bit differently as he didn't care one way or another.
“Good. I must admit,” she paused to take a short straw out of her bag and leaned down, both lines gone in the blink of an eye. She sighed, wiped residue off her nose, and cut a few more lines, “I've already taken her on a test run, I don't think she’ll be around for very long and she's a little too cute to pass up. But aside from that, she’s fresh meat, well, at least for this club. I was hoping you or Kazama-san would pop in, I do like saving the good stuff for my loyal clientele.”
“Is that so?” Kashiwagi smirked a little, taking pause himself to indulge in her offer, a slight burning at the back of his throat and the rest of his whiskey later and he was certainly feeling more relaxed and wired contradicting in his body to alert contentment that would only escalate soon. He wouldn't say so, but he liked the idea of this sort of limited opportunity, if Asami was satisfied with her then he set his expectations high. He had yet to be disappointed here, though he wondered why she wouldn't be sticking around.
“Some sort of vagrant then? Or just someone who needs some quick money?”
“That's the funny thing,” Asami tilted her head, watching the girl in the white mask straddle the other on stage, as the music took on a more sensual tone, “She didn't seem to care for the money at all, at least not all that much. Brought her own costume and everything, hell I'm only saying she because she asked me to. I don't know anything about her, less so than even my regular girls. She was a damn good performance though. I think you'll like Aki-chan.”
He just nodded, watching the girls on stage and rubbing his slightly sweaty fingers together. Fascinated by this, and shifting in his seat slightly as he waited for Asami to point her out in the crowd, though her eyes were heavily trained on him. He imagined some girl, a girl pretending to be someone else in her day-to-day life, coming here to release something more personal and sacred. Also reminding him of someone, though that was a case he was always careful never to imply too much about. He was touchy when even the barest implications of the subject came up.
Asami’s gaze burned into his skull, she knew how to drag on the waiting. She loved watching men get riled up, she’d said as much herself while she was on top of him, denying him anything until he grabbed her and took her hard and aggressively. His initial worry was gone with how much she clearly got off on it, though he suspected she didn't play the game quite that dangerously with everyone. Maybe he frequented this place too often, but they knew well and good their lives were intertwined in only some kind of sexual contempt, vague favors, and money changing hands. He was nothing to her the moment she was with someone else or wouldn't pay her, she wasn't much to him but a space in his mind occupied by things he could get something out of, as many memories as he’d made here, she wasn't really even a lover to him. Seldom a friend either.
Perhaps that explained a sense of emptiness that was found here. As lately, as often as he did come, it was more of a last resort. When he couldn't do a dance with someone more meaningful in his life. Kazama had left him out to dry a bit too often, it was not for him to ask for but to accept when offered. His visually challenged friend was fickle, though not as flakey, and still had the hefty weight of his patriarch bearing down his neck at all times. Nothing to say of more inner clan dynamics. He’d hardly seen anyone but Kiryu and Nishikiyama recently, and even they were balancing time very delicately as of late.
When he was alone of even platonic interactions, he came here.
The girls on stage kept up a performance, struggling for dominance that flipped one of them on her back while the other rode her, and the fight continued endlessly. Blood rushed around in his head and he imagined both of them using him as a body to fight over, clingy soft hands pulling at his clothes and begging for more contact. His eyes scanned the room to find many people getting a little handsy with their entertainers, some girls dancing for them, some girls already pulling down their tops, it usually wasn't so early in the night he’d be seeing bare breasts but he figured the shitty weather inspired people to want a little more cheer in their entertainment.
“I think the room is ready for you,” Asami whispered in his ear. He blinked hard trying not to jump as he hadn't even realized she’d left. time already slurring itself together. She laughed a little and took him by the hand.
Off they went, through a door and down a hallway, he could hear women giggling and the unmistakable sound of a bed frame hitting the wall, the endless flowery wallpaper made him dizzy, but it wasn't long before he was introduced to the door at the very end of the hall.
“Here you are, oh Aki-chan told me to let you know that you don't have to be gentle with her,” She winked, “Have fun, ill see you both later.”
With that Kashiwagi entered the room, Asami closed the door behind him and he turned to face an elegant bed with an enticing figure laying down already. Immediately he lost that general awkwardness as he found a fascination in looking at her, one that invited hungry eyes.
She wore a white mask, shaped like a cat with no expression to be read through it, tied behind her head with thin red ribbons. Her thick black hair was cut into a bob framing the mask beautifully, the contrast between them sharp. She was strong, flat-chested, and lean with a vague softness about her thighs. Wide hips filled out her short purple dress, a lace choker, gold earrings in the shape of broken hearts, and black thigh-high stockings were the only accessories and he found they did the job more than well enough. There was an elegance to her, as well as bizarre familiarity. He expected her to say something, but she seemed frozen in her position laid out on the bed, her shoes placed neatly on the floor in front of a nightstand holding up one of the two soft orange lamps.
“Asami-san told me she quite liked you,” he started, slowly making his way to the side of the bed, and watching her sit up, knees pressed to her chest defensively, sort of bizarre if she was so used to this sort of thing. Perhaps she just had some slight misgivings about doing it for money, she could be high as well. He expected her to answer, but she still didn't.
“Aki-chan right?” he offered, sitting next to her on the bed, slowly reaching to undo his tie, she hesitated, but nodded, uncurling herself slightly. “That's a nice name, simple, a lot of girls choose something more over the top. I'm not going to hurt you, you know. Unless…”
Aki tilted her head as if fascinated by him suddenly. Getting over whatever initial shock she had to examine his face, or at least he thought she was looking at his face, it was hard to tell in the dimly lit room casting shadows into the eye holes of her mask. She reached her hand, large and veiny with old scars along her knuckles, delicately placing it on his shoulder as if she expected it to be hot to the touch.
Asami was right, she certainly caught his attention. He took her hand and pressed a kiss to the back of it, which she flinched at, gaining that sort of apprehension back. He found himself more confused, encounters like this were almost never reminiscent of approaching a nervous deer. Perhaps she preferred if he was more forward, but he wanted to make sure first.
“I've never seen a girl wear a mask back here, what for?” he reached for it and she shrunk away, “I see. Too shy to talk as well, I hate to say, but you've already interested me more than a lot of other girls. You don't want to take charge, do you?”
She considered this, but eventually shook her head, a cue for him to try something, be that it may be a bit more aggressive than usual even for him. He was feeling some sort of way about her and again wanted to place that familiar feeling, that nagging that he was supposed to know something, recognize it somehow.
He grabbed her by the waist and twisted so he was on his knees on the bed, kicking off his shoes just before he did, and pulling her close so he was seated between her legs. In the sudden movement, she grasped his wrists with both of her hands, but her legs stayed where they were, resting on either side of his hips. One way or another she was warming up to him, though he tended to prefer girls speaking up about their fantasies of men taking what they wanted. She didn't seem to know how to react.
“Just relax,” he was near her throat in only a minute, hands finding their way around her body until his fingers graced her back, and the familiar texture of raised skin that had been tattooed made itself known to his wired senses, he heard a sound from the depths of the throat he had his lips to. A soft gasp and what sounded like the very start of a word. For a moment these details remained detached in his mind, his teeth imprinted into her skin and the subsequent whine reached his ears, his mind finally catching up as he pulled away.
They sat there quietly, both of them aware, and yet Kashiwagi wasn't wholly processing it. Disbelief even as he started recognizing more and more. The smell of that dark hair, and the way the dress hugged muscles he’d seen before, the voice, scars on his fingers he’d bandaged for him when they were fresh. He wasn't believing what he was realizing now.
His shaky hands reached for and pulled off the mask. Nishikiyama didn't stop him this time.
There was quiet as the only thing in the room besides their heavy drug-addled breathing was soft far away music. Nishiki’s pupils were so wide he could barely see the rest of his eyes, making him look unsettlingly like a porcelain doll, his flushed face not helping.
What was to be done? The right answer was for both of them to leave. To redress and compose themselves and remove themselves from this place, never to speak of it again. Neither of them moved.
"Nishiki…" He grimaced a little, the nickname was grossly inappropriate here.
"You…I…" Nishiki, for once in his life, was at a loss for words.
“I didn't think, it would be you.” The younger man managed, the corners of his mouth twitched though if this was him seeing the humor in something so absurd or a grimace in disgust Kashiwagi wasn't sure.
“This isn't funny.”
“Am I laughing.” Tongue sharp as ever, they met each other's eyes, scowling.
He was still hard, he realized sitting between Nishiki’s spread legs, he hadn't thought of it at all when faced with an enticing woman, but now he was looking at someone who he often considered family, and those feelings weren't leaving. There was very little disgust where there should be, Nishiki wasn't pushing him off or away, or even reacting at all anymore, just staring at him with coin-sized pupils and something halfway between desire and shame,
Recognizing it, he couldn't seem to help himself.
A fleeting bit of justification thought that perhaps he could spur the other man into coming to his senses for the both of them.
But if he was honest, he had no real reason to expect that.
He pushed him back into the bed, his hand sprawled out on his chest, his other sliding it's way up his dress, finding him wearing nothing under it was exciting, a tight, hot burning pit of shame in his chest encouraged him. Oh, it was terrible what he was doing, and the more he chastised himself the more irresistible it was. He didn't consider what would happen next, he only thought of what it would feel like to push inside him.
Was it that they were so unwilling to try to speak? To insert some sense into the situation? Kashiwagi was a man of logic and reason, but this was the place he threw all of that away and didn't worry about being a person. Was it just here that inhibitions were not to be considered? Something ate at him when he realized he would either hurt him or continue. Unable to conceptualize another bearable option.
“Nishiki, i-”
“It's fine,” Nishiki muttered hoarsely, his breath hitching as he watched Kashiwagi push his dress higher, exposing him. Inspiring more jolts of pleasurable humiliation, Nishiki looked like he wanted to reach for him, but something about the situation called for him to remain there, willing but not active.
Kashiwagi pinned his arms to the bed, grinding his hips forward to feel any kind of pressure and reviling at how Nishiki panted and clearly tried not to whimper like he was saving some sort of face by keeping quiet while allowing, in every sense of the word, a pseudo father figure to hump him like an animal. Nishiki was strong enough to push him away and opinionated enough to tell him off, but he remained docile and accepting for a reason neither of them could place.
He eventually stopped his hips from moving in an attempt to maybe remain somewhat sane, letting up on Nishiki’s arms, though the younger man kept them there as if he’d been ordered to, and Kashiwagi rewarded this in a way by unbuttoning and pulling off his shirt, he saw Nishikii’s eyes take in his tattoos, having never seen them before, but he wasn't given much time for that. His dress was held up by straps tied behind his neck, which Kashiwagi untied to push down, exposing his chest as well as his hips.
Already the respectful line of superior and subordinate had been crossed, years ago with how overly familiar they could be, but now they tread all over the bounds of a sort of father and sort of son, and Kashiwagi for many of his flaws had one that he never figured would come up here. One even Majima had pointed out as being odd in their adventures.
Because he undressed Nishiki more to feel their skin touching, hot and far too intimate when he pushed their lips together, grinding his still-clothed erection against Nishiki's ever more aroused cunt, it was far too much when he considered that he was practically taking advantage of him.
Yet, Nishiki relaxed, sinking a little into the mattress like kissing made any of this better. His hands limply resting on the bed, his legs tightened around Kashiwagi’s hips. Not only pliantly willing but depraved and wanting. Why else were they both here? Deserving nothing but what they were given now, asking for immoral pleasure the monkeys' paw curled inward. Their tongues met between their lips and no one was pretending there was a chance of this ending any other way. They proceeded to learn terrible things about one another, secrets that should've stayed as such.
The younger man learned quickly that this was no sensual affair. His previous caretaker was a man whose aggression was tightly wound and controlled, ever waiting for the moment he would be granted an excuse to let it out, more often with his fists, but just as well here. Vice grip wherever he held, there were no hickies but rather biting, unlocking some kind of animal in someone he once trusted dearly.
The father learned that Nishiki liked to use his hands, startled momentarily by his fingers’ appearance at his sides, skin burning with repulsion where he touched him. Kashiwagi pinned his hands again, leaving red indents on his wrists from squeezing them, somehow hurting him made this more okay. Guilt ate at him momentarily, but those sharp watery eyes that were usually so full of mischief and carefree humor were glazed over with undeniable lust. They would hate themselves soon, but Asami’s sultry voice came back to him, Aki-chan liked it rough, perhaps Nishikiyama would too.
He loomed over him taking in the sight of his debased and vulnerable son, viscerally upset that he found his flushed skin and wide eyes so enticing, no there was no shared blood, he hardly even raised him, but it was clear how they felt before. He was usually so proud, above being put down like this, but the loss of composure gave him a quality that was akin to blood in the water, attracting all manner of feelings. He was pretty in a breakable way, Kashiwagi reminded inexplicably of the young Yayoi Dojima, fierce but wanting and unfulfilled in a way he could fix, or even Majima. Broken in a way he couldn’t repair but could help him exploit. Where the boundaries were only pushed there by them being significantly younger and in Yayoi’s case married, here it was undeniably his fault to push Nishiki here. Though older than Kashiwagi had been when he first felt Kazama on him, this was far different than a patriarch and his subordinate.
“Are you going to fuck me.” it was hardly a question, a sharply muttered demand, some of that usual fight returned to Nishiki’s body language as if he would goad and prod until he got what he wanted. But why did he want it? There was too much thought being put into his depravity. There was either crossing the line or lamenting never doing so, and it would be better for them to beg one another for forgiveness.
He didn't speak, grabbing his hips and yanking them closer, the younger man's gasp was a ringing bell in his head that urged an animal desire, a pavlovian response to pull and grip and move him in whatever way felt most comfortable. There was no hesitance but rather a repulsive hungry desire when he loosened his belt and freed his painfully hard cock.
Nishiki’s wide-eyed staring was almost precious. Surely he wasn't about to deflower his son, there was no way he was a virgin doing all of this, certainly, he expected to be sleeping with men here. No there was something else to this disbelief as if he really didn't think Kashiwagi would come this close, and proceed to keep going. Kashiwagi didn't believe it himself.
But it was going to be a regret, either way, might as well be something worth regretting.
In mere moments he was guiding himself closer, the head of his cock pressed against Nishiki’s wet, inviting cunt. There was one last moment, one brief second of continued innocence, one last chance for it all to be an ‘almost’, a near miss, a mistake that they didn't go through with.
It was gone now.
He hated to like the shocked whimper, how beautifully warm and inviting he felt when he pushed inside him. Feverish and trembling the younger man's body still invited more, Nishiki's tight frown said he was appalled, but the breathy panting and the way his hips relaxed and tried almost immediately to inch closer said he felt that filthy pull more than he wanted to.
He didn't wait any longer, a sort of base instinct fear that he would be stopped either by his own conscious or something unseen came over him, and in that he snapped his hips forward, buried fully inside his soft cunt. The relief of it all was overwhelming, he felt sick to his stomach and used that to spur himself forward and rock his hips, more aggressively than he usually was at first because every thrust forward fucked a strangled beautiful sound from Nishiki’s throat. His voice was pretty when he was halfway in shock being used and liking it. Kashiwagi grabbed his hips and held them up while fucking down into him, Nishiki whimpered and grabbed his wrists again, the only sounds coming from the older man being the occasional grunt and his labored breathing.
If Nishiki hated it, his blissful expression felt contradictory. A sense of shame baked into his features seemed new to him but excited nastier urges. Kashiwagi had known him for so long, and naturally had never seen this in him, he wished he hadn't, he wanted to see more. He wondered how many people had seen this side of him, how many men and women had felt him this way, and he felt inexplicably better than them, that he knew so much more. Nishiki couldn't hide from him as he did from strangers. No, he wasn't the closest person to him but he was more intertwined than others. He couldn't help but wonder if Kiryu had seen this, if he would want to. If either of them ever thought of one another that way. Sworn brothers often had a sexually charged bond, so it was easy to imagine it could be true, he couldn't tell if he was off-puttingly invested in that.
He knew, however, as he buried himself suddenly and firmly inside Nishiki, causing him to moan in a sort of pained way, that he would never do this with Kiryu. A slip of his hand accidentally dragged the garters hugging his thighs down and leaving red scratches. He didn't know what it was, but this secret felt more befitting of him and Nishiki, Kiryu wasn't one for the underhanded or games played in the dark. It was sort of like he could see himself mirrored in the man under him, and much as he cared for Kiryu he reminded him more of Kazama, stern and straight-laced, though Kiryu was nowhere near as hypocritical as his father. Nishiki never pretended to be wholly pure or unwilling to indulge in baseless pleasure.
He focused on all these various aspects, viewing and appreciative of this situation in itself entirety, the moment he was finished he expected remorse that would prevent him from even looking himself in the eye when confronted with the mirror, but he wanted to enjoy it, for now, a euphoria heightened by that viscera. His thumbs already bruising his hips.
On some impulse, staring down at Nishiki's beautifully enticing body, lean muscle with just enough bulk to him to accentuate it, Kasiwagi dug his nails into his hips. The reactions he got out of him like pushing buttons that drove him crazy were too enticing to pass up. Nishiki reached for his shoulders in a haze but was met with more impulsive aggression. Kashiwagi clawed at his skin, dragging his nails over old scars on his chest taking out some anger already boiling beneath the surface on Nishiki's body.
He was stopped by a choked whimper, dozens of scratches darkened Nishiki’s torso and hips and more startlingly he caught a glimpse of the younger man's face through the soft lighting to find tears. He'd never really cared to make anyone cry at his hands one way or another, but this hit him in the gut.
Nestled inside him but not moving, Kashiwagi grabbed his jaw vice-like and stern, pointing his head so he could look him in the eye, Nishiki’s eyebrows furrowed and he caught his breath in his throat, not daring to touch him back.
"You're crying." He made the barest attempt to sound less harsh than his voice always came off, but the question mark didn't make itself known in his inflection. "Why. What for."
"...hurts," Nishiki muttered, trying to tug his head away unsuccessfully.
"I thought Asami-san said you could handle it."
"I can when you don't just shove it-"
"Are you scared."
Nishiki didn't answer but his expression betrayed him. Again, there was a very much solid choice to stop this, to pull away and apologize, but it didn't feel quite right. No, he had a different idea, a worse one by all accounts.
"I'm sorry," he pulled out of him, body reacting desperately to the loss of sensation, and him scowling in his attempt to control the impulse to ignore the guilt that hurting him caused. Nishiki frowned more, eyebrows knit together in concern. "Sit up."
He did as he was told, Kashiwagi coaxing him to lean against the bed frame. This was somehow different, and he hoped he could go through with it, a sex act was a sex act but even so much as saying it out loud was difficult. Indeed impossible.
"What are…" Nishiki started, the most interruptions since they'd begun, watching Kashiwagi slowly lay down.
"You're not stupid." Kashiwagi chided, flushed despite the rest of the situation, he pulled him closer by his hips, glancing up when he felt those eyes look away from his face to see a soft expression of awe, realizing that he was now laying eyes on the fu dog inked into his back for the first time, a symbol of security that certainly wasn't protecting anyone at the moment.
"It'll be better this way."
"I know I just-"
“Be quiet.” The younger man did as he was told for once in his adult life. Kashiwagi found no humor in this where he usually would because he was about to breach some other standard of decency no matter what anyone did to try and stop him. He couldn’t make heads or tails of it, but forcibly fucking him seemed a more natural, animal reaction. A kinder proposition. Even down to exploiting pain for some kind of outlet, to actually pleasure him was something worse. The difference between premeditated murder and an act of passion. To stop and consider his feelings, to afford him kindness was crueler than using him and leaving. If he liked it then what did that make either of them?
Nishiki’s cunt left slick down his thighs, his clit engorged and wanting as he was too weak to fight these urges. Kashiwagi’s self-loathing coiled into itself and morphed not unlike some foul shape-shifting monster and made it impossible not to relish the way he felt in his mouth. His tongue discovered more than his eyes ever would, but he stole hard looks at the way Nishiki’s expression told a story of apprehension, turned shock, turned hesitancy, and finally bliss.
Nishiki’s thighs bruised under the older man's touch, as he focused all gentleness to his mouth, contrasting the way he softly sucked his clit with leaving his mark elsewhere. Kashiwagi let himself enjoy it, rightfully earning the panting, the pretty moans, and the twitching of his clit when he’d pull off of it to tease. But he didn't let himself forget who it was. He could almost tell that Nishiki wanted to grab him, and he wanted an excuse to keep leaving bruises, suspecting he had enough of gentleness, the insane desire to hear and see him cum came over him. There was no way to remedy it, what kind of guardian violated that trust and made them enjoy it?
Maybe it was more human than that.
Nishiki mumbled something incoherent, he was helping him, but he was ruining him too. Old memories, the shame from finding a superior enticing, from wanting him in a way that wasn't right for anybody. He drew lines of fate that mirrored his own skewed perception to argue the case that he was only repeating something he’d already known. As if that were some good reason. Nishiki never wanted him, and they were closer and yet further apart in their roles, but the boy was as far gone now as he had been then. There didn't need to be right or wrong, it would feel good. Animals liked to experience pleasure.
Kazama was never quite so considerate. It wasn't better or worse. It wasn't one thing or another.
He buried his face deeper nose pushed against his clit, hungry for sounds and reactions that proved he wasn't hurting him. Nishiki obliged though there was no telling if he even had a choice, the way he stifled his sounds said he was fighting a losing war. The flipped switch from searching his body for an answer to trying to force an orgasm from him as swiftly as possible didn't leave room for self-control.
Nishiki’s body spasmed, twitching, with heavy breaths rattling his chest, Kashiwagi looked up to find his sweating face twisting in anticipation of the end, clenched teeth, and trembling limbs. He wanted so badly that he broke through the unspoken but clearly established rule, hands in Kashiwagi’s hair, disturbing him with an affectionate gesture. He allowed it if only to let him have one last gift. Maybe he owed him that much.
Nishiki reached climax with his back arched, louder than he had any right to be. Making more of a mess than one might expect. He seemed delirious as Kashiwagi sat up and afforded him another kiss. He had no justification or self-flagellation for it this time, as he got nothing but a mild sense of duty from the experience. He hated that Nishiki was so attractive when he orgasmed, he hated that sense of pride elicited by bringing him there, he had nothing to be proud of, looming over Nishiki with the taste of his body fresh in his mouth.
“K-Kashiwagi-san,” Nishiki managed, breathless, an expression he could only interpret as expectant but lost. As though he didn't understand.
“Don't.” Kashiwagi shook his head, the barrier of respect would almost be funny, if he wasn't going to still use him. If he deserved it at all.
“You can…” Nishiki started but didn't finish, as if voicing it aloud would make him realize what he was offering. It didn't matter. Permission was just that.
Kashiwagi wasted no time, gripping Nishiki’s shoulders and turning him around, forcing him onto his hands and knees with the tiny glimmer of hope that maybe he could face himself in the mirror with some dignity intact if he didn't look the younger man in the eye when he emptied himself into his cunt. Or maybe he was making new excuses for treating such a familiar body in newly awful ways.
“Does it still hurt,” he asked mere moments after hearing a choked sound leave Nishiki like it was forced out of his mouth by the cock being returned to his now dripping cunt.
“No,” Nishiki muttered, hanging his head while he was fucked forward without more fanfare. He found it more palatable to have a Nishiki who didn't really want to fuck him anymore, but who wanted his approval, a duty to finish what they'd started. The lust in his eyes before inspired an animal who fucked cruelly to make up for how he wanted to be hated, but now he used him when he was maybe tolerated. The world was righted in some capacity. He found it easier, freer to hold him with both hands and slam his hips into him, but maybe that had more to do with how eager he was, he could so easily see himself in the man under him. Reverting back to willing, but hardly active.
He was no gentler with his movements, he could’ve hurt both of them with how hard he fucked the younger man, able to hear as well as feel how wet he was. Kashiwagi’s grunts were louder and interspersed with muttered swearing. His feelings were all over the place, grasping at straws to make sense of their sporadic actions. He was shocked to hear Nishiki barely hold back a moan, how he was enjoying this depravity still eluded him, but he could say the same for himself.
“Please…” Nishiki whimpered quietly bent over with his arms just barely supporting his weight, threatening to give out every time he was jerked forward. Something overcame Kashiwagi at this and he bent his arm around his throat, mounting him like a dog might, panting into his ear with every angry thrust.
“What is it.”
“I-”
“Speak up.”
“Cum in me, please,” Nishiki gasped pathetically, the shame in asking clearly made it better for him as he squirmed under the older man's grip which only tightened. It was disgusting to hear him beg for it.
He couldn't deny the request, nor could he fully control what he did next.
He dropped Nishiki just long enough to surprise him, rolling him back over and pushing his knees to his chest, discovering yet another angle to fuck him in. he decided he wanted to see his face when he filled him, encapsulating the memory of defiling him forever.
He looked so pretty, and delicate despite all the abuse he'd taken so far, he was painfully enjoyable to hurt. No, he couldn't do this with Kiryu, couldn't break him mutually like this, recreating something he thought he'd forgotten.
Maybe one day he could forgive them both.
In the moment his cunt felt too good, violating their relationship seemed only natural. His mind was too hazy to be reasoned with. Every apparent twinge of discomfort or barely stifled whine of pleasure made itself very apparent, as though he were reading those feelings off of a page in a book. He managed to notice how the younger man gripped the sheets under him, white-knuckled and desperate.
Several sporadic, violent thrusts later, the cord snapped. Kashiwagi buried himself fully into Nishiki with a sharp growl, the relief of cumming in something overwhelming, Nishiki’s cunt tightened around him as he couldn't help but fuck his cum deeper making them both groan before collapsing on top of him.
The embrace was brief and far too close for comfort. Like some kind of switch being flipped, just as his cock grew soft, the vile repulsion returned, and it was no longer fueling some fetish for shame.
He pulled away from Nishiki quickly like he'd be burned if he touched him any longer. The younger man lay there breathing heavily and shaking a little. He was probably coming down from whatever he'd been given earlier if he hadn't already in the middle of it. Already Kashiwagi had to look away, as he didn't find his flushed face and soft lightly glistening skin any less pretty, he simply felt sick to think so.
He sat at the edge of the bed facing away, he could feel the younger man's eyes on his spine like a cold hand around the back of his neck. Somewhere in the frenzy, he'd undressed fully, he didn't quite remember when just that now he glared at his clothes bunched up at the end of the bed as though they were somehow responsible for his actions.
No, he couldn't wash this sin off his hands any more than he could scrub the tattoos off his arms, shoulders, or back.
He looked behind him eventually, Nishiki also sitting up, he'd tied the dress behind his neck and pushed it down to cover himself, Kashiwagi could still see the red koi forever swimming upward.
He had the urge to say something, but no substance to fulfill the desire. The aftermath was admittedly a weak point when it came to sex, most people he was with would've laughed at him had he even once suggested some kind of comfort or vague kindness. Yayoi sent him away immediately after she was done with him, Kazama might give him a smoke, and Majima was known to throw an arm around his shoulders or tease, but none of these were fully acceptable here.
"Nishikiyama," He managed to attempt the start of a conversation after several minutes of silence.
"Yes?" Nishiki turned and Kashiwagi had to take a deep breath to force eye contact. Eyes that were red and watery, his cheeks still bloomed with color as they always did when he was a bit overwhelmed with emotion.
"I'm sorry." He clenched his jaw, trying to decipher Nishiki’s thought process by looking him in the eye.
"Kashiwagi-san-"
"Don't-" he held a hand up, quieting the guilt at denying him speech. "Not now. Not here, either. I…"
He wasn't entirely sure what he was going to say, and evidently, neither of them would find out. A knock on the door spurred Kashiwagi to stand and begin to redress hurriedly. Asami didn't have any sense of boundaries with him and entered looking a little disappointed as though she wanted to catch them in the act.
"How'd you like Aki-chan?" She smirked, for a moment of irrational fear he thought she somehow knew or understood the nature of what had happened. He tried to assure himself that it wasn't possible, but her raised eyebrow after scanning his face implied maybe she suspected something was up. Asami expected an answer, however, and seethed with guilt to do so.
"She was….good." It felt sour in his mouth, he wished he was lying.
"Something the matter?"
"No. Nothing."
"Well…in that case," She crossed her arms and looked between them, "Aki-chan if you plan on sticking around…or even coming back, maybe we should arrange something. I'd like to see the two of you if you'd forgive my saying so."
"....I think I'll be going, soon. Sorry, Miyako-san" Nishiki muttered, his eyes trained on the floor as he adjusted his garters with no real intent.
"What do you say Kashiwagi-san?"
"I…I have to be going."
"So soon?"
"Yes. I'm sorry but-" he didn't bother to fix his tie and only hurriedly buttoned enough of his shirt to cover his tattoos, hastily scrambling for an excuse, "I remembered something important, please excuse me."
"Kashiwagi-san?" Her eyebrows furrowed, perturbed.
"Thank you, Asami-san…." He glanced after Nishiki and swallowed his self-loathing for a moment, "Aki-chan…I'll be in touch."
After a brief moment where she took his hand to try and convince him to stick around, and he responded by slipping a wad of money between her fingers, he hurried away without even looking behind him for Nishiki.
Weaving through various people in the main room, his every step weighed down by the most apparent walk of shame since he was a teenager, he made it a mission not to think too much about it until he was alone. Paranoid someone would know he'd done something terrible. A few girls waved to him, their interest and perfume made his head swim. Ducking into the coat room to retrieve his belongings he sighed, took a moment, and collected himself.
Again, there was no need to think about it now, just to smooth out his appearance. Before long he found himself nearly presentable as he had been when he walked into the club. The feeling of Nishiki’s fingers in his hair didn't leave his mind, feeling the ghost of their presence there.
His skin crawled with contempt, and he had the urge to crush the umbrella until it was unrecognizable as anything at all. Instead, he hurriedly slipped out of the building, leaving the hazy atmosphere and bright light behind him. Fat, cold droplets of rain pelted the ground, he didn't bother putting up the umbrella. Deserving to get sick if that was indeed how it happened.
He turned away from the dark alley, winding his way to the main streets for the final time.