Chapter Text
It had been a very annoying day for Yoshikage Kira.
First, even before being able to clock in for work, one of his annoying colleagues just had to ask him on a date. He’d politely declined, of course – more politely than his gut reaction would have allowed if he wasn’t in control of himself. He wasn’t interested in any long-term partnership, but that hadn’t been the reason he hadn’t spared her offer a single thought. Not even her being the most plain woman in the office. Considering his image of a plain and simple salaryman, that would have certainly been more of a selling point.
No, it was none other than her damned hands. It always was. But unlike a few weeks ago when he had to excuse himself after one of the new hires handed him a paper and her freshly manicured fingers barely brushed his skin, he didn’t feel anything. Or at least anything good. No clipped nails, not filed, no healthy shine, dark, dirty edges to the nail, some visible dark hair on her fingers, and a great many little scars – most likely from paper cuts she’d been picking at. Someone not taking care of themselves like that was out of question as a potential girlfriend. Or partner, he didn’t care about the person attached to the hand that much.
Still, someone like her wasn’t even worth being a momentary distraction.
He shook his head.
Had it just been her confession, Yoshikage wouldn’t have thought twice about calling this a day like any other. But of course, there had to be more - namely, an outing with his colleagues and their department manager.
And while – if everything was playing out like it usually did – he would have joined his female colleagues simply because of their less rough attitude, today he had to endure the endless complaints about prude wives and ungrateful children, meaningless arguments about someone’s new car or comments about a new hire’s choice in costume. He’d much rather stay with the women and not be expected to give any kind of comment on topics no one anticipated a man like himself to have any knowledge of.
Instead, their manager had insisted on having Yoshikage sit with him and actively participate in conversations he couldn’t care less about. He even had to explain away his sobriety with some health-related issue after another colleague, who – with more nerve than him – had admitted to just disliking the taste and been mocked and pressured into partaking.
Another reason he’d prefer to listen to the women. At least they understood the importance of taking care of one’s body – both health and looks.
At one point, one of the waitresses offered him a drink paid for by another customer.
He didn’t need to ask who it had been. Sitting at the counter, a man with black hair and a truly pitiful look of anxiety and impatience was glancing at him in an attempt to seem inconspicuous. Even if he had been interested, the man's lack of tact in propositioning him like this in front of his coworkers was baffling. He didn’t take the drink.
He did survive that evening, if barely. After a few grueling hours, since their manager was one of those types dreading coming home to their family, the gathering slowly dispersed. The blond man left with a half-hearted goodbye, the pleasant smile not reaching his eyes.
He could definitely do without evenings like these. The decidedly unexciting company, the alcohol, the mediocre but expensive food. His schedule being disturbed for no other reason than the entertainment of management.
Back outside, fresh air brushing through his hair, he couldn’t suppress a small shiver. The increasingly warm and stuffy room he’d just been in had made him forget the reality of the chill spring night he’d just stepped into. He buttoned up his suit jacket again and returned to the parking lot in front of the office.
He’d guided a few women in his department to their little outing instead of taking the car, which now had him follow dimly lit streets for way longer than he’d remembered. The roads as well as the sidewalk were empty. No one but him was breathing in the darkness, listening to a barking dog in the distance or a couple’s argument carrying down to the street.
After a few minutes of near silence, a second pair of footsteps joined his own. They were fast, and dedicated. Probably someone who’d been out for too long and would now face their spouse’s wrath. Maybe a worker from one of the surrounding bars.
“Do you have a moment?,” a voice from behind him asked.
The blond man stopped and turned around a little, just enough to take a look at the one who’d addressed him.
The first thing he noticed was the disheveled look of the man. His dark shirt was wrinkled, the uppermost buttons opened, his tie loosened and his suit jacket draped over his arm. His hair was only an echo of the style he remembered from across the bar. He could see a stain on the man’s pants and smell the alcohol even from the short distance between them.
Disgusting.
“Do you have the time?”
He ignored the man’s request.
He wasn’t so foolish as to get robbed by a man drunk on both alcohol and adrenaline or let himself be distracted and pulled into an alley. That was the difference between him and his occasional victims. Well, in the last few months it had become more than occasional thanks to this newfound ability of his he was still figuring out. But he was more than a naive little thing distracted by attention and as such, would not underestimate the stranger in front of him.
He tried his best to assess the man in the dim light of the nearest street lantern. He was about the same height and age as himself and of similar build, if a bit more muscular. He could see the gold of a ring glint on his finger.
“You’re drunk. Leave before the police pick you up.”
“I'm not drunk. Just had like… like one drink,” the man emphasized with an enthusiastic headshake. “And you didn’t take my drink!” The accusation in his tone was impossible to miss.
“Even if I did drink, what makes you think I’d want one from you?” He rolled his eyes. The stranger wasn’t even exaggerating. All he’d done while sitting at the counter was sneaking glances at Yoshikage from time to time. Which made the situation he was in now even worse.
“Come on! I know you want this,” the man took a step closer, “After an evening like this we can both use some stress relief, don’t you think?”
He matched the dark-haired man’s movement and kept the distance between them. He took a few more steps backward and, without thinking, sprinted toward the police station. He’d passed it on the way to the bar and hoped he wasn’t too far away from it right now.
It wouldn’t have been his first refuge, especially not with his increased activity in the past months surely not going unnoticed and any attention on him was bound to put a target on his back in some way, but it was still a better idea than to have this stalker explode right in the open, possible witnesses just feet away behind their houses' walls and him admittedly being too panicked to think clearly.
In his panic he took a wrong turn, facing a dead end in front of him and already feeling the stranger at his back. He could hear the heavy breathing coming closer, step by step.
“It’s Kosaku, by the way. Just in case you forgot to ask.” The man slowly crept toward him: “But you finally came to your senses and found us a nice secluded spot. How nice of you.”
“You won’t even get a name to beg for my mercy,” he threatened, readying himself to call out for Killer Queen in case Kosaku made a move.
But again, the other was faster and pushed the blond against the wall behind him, a hand pressed over his mouth. “So much for who’s going to be begging for mercy,” he taunted and maneuvered them so he could tie up the blue-eyed man’s arms on his back with his necktie. How he could’ve gotten rid of it that quickly was beyond Yoshikage.
He could already feel Kosaku’s dick harden against him, pushed up against his ass and grinding against him ever so slowly while admiring the tight binds he’d gotten on his victim. “You don’t know how long I’ve been waiting for a moment like this,” he heard the other’s breathy whisper behind him, “Can’t get it up for that bitch of a wife but you?” He leaned over his shoulder, his lips ever so slightly brushing against Yoshikage’s ear, “I couldn’t take my eyes off you all night.”
Kosaku moved an arm around the other man, one hand on his throat and the other one resting on his hip. “I wanted to get myself a cute girl for tonight, you know. But when I saw you… I just couldn’t think of anyone else,” Yoshikage could feel the hand on his throat close a little, just enough to have him silently gasp, “All I could think of was how I’d love to bend you over and fuck that arrogant look off your face.” The other hand moved lower and fumbled with his belt for a moment.
Kosaku spit into his hand and unceremoniously shoved it down the other’s underwear, his harsh grip just on the side of painful when he impatiently pulled his dick out and began tugging like an inexperienced schoolgirl with her first boyfriend.
There was no question who that gesture was meant for. Not for Yoshikage, that was for sure.
“Always wanted to do something like this,” he wasn’t even touching himself and already panting like a dog in heat, “Aren’t you glad to have this first with me?” The hand on his cock closed around the base and squeezed uncomfortably tight, almost an accusation, a demand for a reaction, vexed to not be told he was doing him a favor by violating him in this way.
The hand on his throat pressed down harder on him, a silent threat. He could feel the short nails scrape on his skin, his pulse quickening even more beneath them.
“Come on, I know you like this. Bet you like it rough, whore,” the dark-haired moved his fingers up Yoshikage’s dick, thumbing at the tip and chuckling to himself at the shudder he got in response.
It wasn’t like Yoshikage was into this, as if he wanted to feel turned on, but the unyielding demand smearing the wetness collecting at the tip was simply too much. Hands too large for his taste, too hairy just beyond the knuckles, furiously moving up and down on his dick, clumsily twisting on the upturn.
He closed his eyes, trying to shield himself from seeing his body reacting to this violation. He could taste the metallic tint on his lower lip, biting down hard enough to draw just the tiniest bit of blood in his attempt to silence the whimper crawling up his throat.
Then suddenly, the assault stopped.
Kosaku let go of his dick, unceremoniously wiping his hand on Yoshikages pants. For just a second, the blond dared hoping for the other to have lost interest. Maybe his drunk mind had finally sobered up enough to see clearly what a fucked up situation he’d put them in.
But again, Yoshikage had no such luck. Kosaku let the hand on his neck fall to his shoulders, the grip still unforgiving. “Have it your way. If you don’t want to have some fun, at least I’ll get my fill,” he pushed him down to his knees, uncaring of the hard concrete bruising him, forcing his chin up and their eyes to meet, “And don’t you dare look away.”
Kosaku planted a foot between Yoshikage’s legs, too close to his freed dick to be anything but a looming threat. The tip of his shoe nudged at him, daring him to attempt another escape. A thumb moved to push down on his lower lip. The dark-haired man forced his finger past the bruise, letting it rest on his tongue. It was almost as if he was expecting him to bite, to retaliate, and rear up in defiance.
But he didn’t. He simply kept still, frozen on the spot and waiting for Kosaku to think of what to do next. He could taste the faint flavor of spilled alcohol on his skin.
“Exactly like that. Know your place is at my feet, begging me to grace you with whatever I see fit.”
The thumb on his tongue was removed a moment later. Instead, a hand grabbed his chin and forced his mouth to open, to wait for Kosakuto to free himself from his pants and move his hips closer. “Open wide, like the good little pet you are.”
Yoshikage tried swallowing the accumulating spit in his mouth before Kosaku could fill him up. But his attempt was futile. The moment the dick in front of his face was shoved where moments ago had been just one finger, he had no control. Kosaku’s hands had, within the blink of an eye, grasped at his hair and shoved himself down the other’s throat. He didn’t wait a second for the blond to adjust and started thrusting the moment Yoshikage’s nose met the dark hair at the base of his cock.
Yoshikage’s mind went blank. He felt himself gag around the uncomfortable stretch of Kosaku, the sound of his grunts and low moans drowned out by his frantic heartbeat as the other fucked his mouth with reckless abandon. “You’re such a good slut! Fuck, yes! This feels amazing!”
The hands in his hair pulled him off the glistening cock, giving him just a few seconds to breathe while the man above him marveled at his teary eyes and the spit already coating his chin. “Fucking cockslut. Bet you’ve been dreaming of a moment like this,” and shoved himself back inside.
But after getting some air back into his lungs, the haze around Yoshikage's mind finally cleared and a sudden calmness enveloped him.
He could feel Kosaku’s nails scratching on his scalp, pulling at his hair without any consideration. He could smell the sweat on his skin, and feel the coarse hair he was shoved into. The growing pain in his shoulders with his arms tied back. The tear streaks drying on his cheeks. The pain in his jaw.
He could feel his throat bulging to accommodate the relentless assault.
His dick twitched against the cold air.
He didn’t want this to stop.
The unwanted warmth inside of him had grown into a heat he couldn’t wait to stoke further. Kosaku’s thrusts hurt. He didn’t care for how deep he pushed himself into Yoshikage or how long he could hold him there. Every time he pushed further down, pushed himself in to the hilt and forced the man below him to hope he’d get to take another breath, Yoshikage felt himself shudder. He could do naught but accept and take.
And he found he liked it. Or at least his weeping dick seemed to like it.
He felt it hanging heavy between his legs, neglected and desperate to get the same attention as before, to feel that painful grip again.
He glanced at his new power in the corner of his hazy vision.
The pink cat-like figure was towering over him, staring down at Kosaku thrusting past his swollen lips, hands already moving to close around the other man’s throat if its owner permitted it.
Had it materialized a minute earlier, had Yoshikage been able to control it a moment sooner, Kosaku would have been dead.
But it hadn’t allowed itself to be controlled, had been just out of reach through the fog of panic clouding his mind. He must have subconsciously registered being master of his power once again. That would explain the sudden calmness, the confidence in letting himself be humiliated in this way.
There was no fear anymore. Forgotten was his earlier panic, the escape attempt. Even his disgust at the man above him had vanished into thin air. All he could think about anymore was the growing realization that he needed Kosaku to continue.
He wanted Kosaku to abuse his throat further. He wanted him to disregard his comfort, wanted to be taken advantage of, needed this.
“You take me so well, better than that bitch wife ever could!” Kosaku’s thrusts became harder, less controlled. It had been barely a few minutes, but he could already feel his dick twitching on his tongue, ready and eager to coat his throat white.
With nothing but a thought, Yoshikage could end him. He could make him suffer, take him apart limb by limb, and let himself bathe in the symphony of screams he knew he could pull out the other’s throat.
But he didn’t. And simply because he permitted it, Kosaku was able to satisfy himself. Because he permitted it, Kosaku was alive.
That thought alone, the power he held even when on his knees and tied up and humiliated in the open, was enough to have him just as eager as his abuser.
Kosaku’s grip on his hair turned excruciating. Any harder and the man would have ripped out a few strands of blond hair but that only pushed Yoshikage further. His pain was his own doing. All he was being tormented with was per his permission.
“Fuck! You take me like a good little bitch!” Kosaku wasn’t even really moving anymore. He was just using him like a toy, careless and with nothing but his own pleasure to chase after. Without warning, Kosaku pushed himself as far down Yoshikage’s throat as possible: “So you get rewarded like a bitch!”
Yoshikage could only swallow around the pulsing cock, barely able to with the foreign girth intruding and keeping him open for more. Kosaku didn’t stop, keeping him in place and riding out his high for as long as possible. He shuddered with every attempted swallow, wallowing in the added stimulation without any care.
The salty, slightly bitter taste felt all-encompassing. All he could smell was the sweaty musk of the man above, taste him cumming too far into his throat to effectively swallow down the bitter flavor taking over his palette. He could only feel the futile attempt of his body to accommodate around Kosaku still burying himself inside of him.
What felt like an eternity later, Kosaku pulled him off his softening dick, admiring his work and the breathless panting below him. His hair was a mess, eyes hooded, mouth open, and lips red and swollen, shiny with spit and spend. Kosaku’s hands were still buried in blond strands and had Yoshikage look up at him, face the deeply satisfied look on his tormentor’s face.
“Face of a slut suits you,” he spat down at him.
Yoshikage reflexively swallowed.
Kosaku was done with him. Taking a step back he looked the man he’d just violated up and down. “Told you, a bitch like yourself was going to enjoy that.” He tucked himself back into his pants, turned around, and left - passing Killer Queen’s raging gaze by mere centimeters.
Yoshikage didn’t care anymore. Had he wanted to, Kosaku would not have left the alley he’d abandoned him in. By his grace was he allowed to return to his wife a cheater and not a dead man.
He let his eyes fall to the ground between his legs, a few white streaks on the concrete. He hadn’t even noticed.