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“Are you sure you’re okay with this?” Takumi asked, face too close.
Eito ran his tongue over a partially healed sore on the inside of his lip. If he applied enough pressure, he could reopen the wound without even using his teeth. He wanted desperately for the taste of blood to overwhelm his senses, but he’d tried it the last time Takumi came to him for one of their ‘negotiations.’ It failed miserably, no match for Takumi’s permeating stink, or the feeling of his dry, cracked lips around Eito’s cock while he sucked him off.
And all Eito got in exchange for such a foul act being performed on him was permission to use his own shower, the one that was rightfully his before being caged.
Of course Eito wasn’t ‘okay’ with what Takumi wanted. Just being in the same room as him was unbearable, let alone allowing that creature near him, let alone touching him, let alone—Eito physically shuddered when he thought of what Takumi had asked for this time around. Takumi, with a savior complex bigger than his swollen, hideous head, thought he was doing Eito a favor by suggesting such crude compromises, but Eito would always see him for what he really was.
Takumi was still staring at him with those bulging eyes, so Eito smiled. The sore rubbed against his back left molar, but he didn’t wince. His smile was sweet, reminiscent of his attitude on his first day at the academy. The innocent Eito whose plans had yet to be foiled, who’d yet to be locked away and forced to play the part of a domesticated animal.
Eito said, “So long as our deal is upheld, you know I won’t resist.”
Takumi shut his eyes like the conversation pained him. Like it pained him. But indisputably, that would never be enough for him to retreat. No, Takumi was so vile that he would trudge on no matter how Eito felt. He didn’t care if Eito wanted him or not. He only asked after his wellbeing to appease his own guilt.
“I want you to enjoy this, too,” Takumi said. His voice scraped painfully against Eito’s skull.
“Then stop talking,” Eito gritted out between his teeth. Takumi curled in on himself, just a bit, the flesh of his serpentine arms squelching as he crossed them.
The pitiful cage bed creaked beneath them. Eito knew it would be much more comfortable for both of them to have their meetings in one of the rooms on the rooftop, but that was something Takumi hadn’t budged on yet. ‘Too many opportunities for you to grab a weapon while I’m distracted,’ he’d said. Eito was pretty sure he was just scared of running into one of his friends on the way.
“Sorry,” Takumi whispered, a hoarse rattle. Whispering was still a form of talking, but Eito wasn’t in the mood to argue semantics. He could tell by the borderline pout on Takumi’s face that it was one of those times where he would need to say something, or else Takumi’s hard-on would wane and Eito would lose his opportunity.
”Do you think you’ve actually done anything wrong?”
”I don’t know,” Takumi sighed. “I’m just not the kind of guy to do things like this if the other person doesn’t want it.”
Eito clenched and unclenched his fists. He sucked in a breath. “If I didn’t want this at all, do you really think I would go along with it?”
Takumi seemed to consider that, because he was stupid. So stupid, but so easy to manipulate. Eito was throwing a bone and Takumi was sucking on it until the marrow lost all flavor.
It was the only thing that made their negotiations beneficial. Some books and an extra meal a day wasn’t worth the anguish of copulating with Takumi, but earning his trust certainly was. If Eito pretended he’d had a sudden change of heart, Takumi might not fall for that, but biding his time and slowly warming up to him could work.
“You’re right,” Takumi told him. “I don’t think I could ever make you do something you truly didn’t want.”
Stupid, stupid, ugly Takumi. Did he really think this was for the both of them? Did he really think he was so charming that it could override his repulsiveness? Eito was going to be sick.
“Let’s just get this over with,” he spat. “You already have us in our class armor, after all.”
Takumi’s brow furrowed, a frown in the making on his grotesque lips, but he nodded, just as Eito knew he would.
Eito held back a wince when one of Takumi’s gloved hands touched his neck, only a bit above the cavity in his chest. Their discarded weapons and infusers lay out of arm’s reach from the cage bars, where Takumi had thrown them after they changed into their class armor.
”I’m going to do it now,” Takumi told him.
His hand inched closer to the hole, each touch knotting Eito’s stomach. When Takumi’s hand passed below his collar bone, that curious white mist began to emerge from the hollow, drawn out by another’s presence.
Thick wisps of smoke stretched around Takumi’s fingers, forming a spiral from each knuckle to the tips of his nails. He wiggled his fingers, and the smoke dispersed for only a second before latching onto him once again.
Stop it, Eito thought, but to no avail. The mist clung to Takumi even harder at his resistance.
”I think it likes me,” Takumi marveled.
”It’s not like it has its own sentience,” Eito scoffed. “It’s part of me.”
”Then maybe you like me,” Takumi teased. Eito snuck a glance at his scythe, as if that alone could send it flying back into his grasp and allow him to decapitate this nuisance. Maybe if he held onto the head tight enough, the Revive-O-Matic drones would give up on obtaining it and let Takumi perish for good.
Eito swallowed down a hint of bile. ”Maybe.”
It was hard to tell with the mix of pinks and reds and purples that made up Takumi’s flesh, but there was a tinge on his cheeks that suggested he was blushing. All seven of his eyes, including the ones Eito knew to be the ‘real’ ones, were trained on the hole in his chest.
Takumi swiped one finger over the edges, all the way around in a full circle, careful as they hit every bump and divot of his armor. The mist followed his movement, curling around his flesh possessively.
“You okay?” Takumi asked.
No. Die. “I’m alright. It doesn’t really feel like anything.”
”Okay,” Takumi nodded. “I’m gonna put one in now, then.”
Eito’s face burned hot from humiliation, and then he was burning all over when a single finger slipped into his body. He felt a tug from below his navel, followed by a tingling sensation that spread through his chest. It was unlike anything he’d ever felt before, and that was including when he’d had takumi’s fingers in other parts of him.
”It’s kind of solid, but not really?” Takumi said it like a question. His hideous face scrunched up in confusion. Eito didn’t care how it felt for Takumi. Eito was going to kill him.
The finger in him moved, sending redhot sparks straight through him. The finger prodded in a way that Eito would never describe as gentle, the pad of it swiping against something—
”Ah—“ he couldn’t help when a little yelp left his lips.
”S-sorry!”
Takumi yanked back his hand. Eito gasped. The feeling of the intrusion leaving him so violently struck him with pain. A sticky clear substance trailed from Takumi’s hand to the pit in Eito’s chest where he’d just been inside him. The trail broke, and drops of the unknown liquid landed on the sheets between them.
“What is this stuff?” Takumi asked, rubbing his fingers together.
”I don’t know. You’re the one touching it,” Eito retorted. The burning was ebbing now that Takumi wasn’t in him, but the stark change in sensation was still daunting.
”Hm.” Takumi tilted his head. Then, he lifted the same finger up to those calloused lips and popped it into his mouth.
”You’re disgusting,” Eito commented.
Takumi ignored him. His tongue swirled around the finger once, twice, three times. Eito felt twitchy watching him do such a heinous act. Finally, the finger emerged. The fabric was no longer covered in the strange fluid but instead with Takumi’s spit.
”It’s…not bad,” Takumi said. He was blushing again. “Tastes better than cum, honestly.”
Eito didn’t really care or want to know that. It took him a moment to find his voice. “I see.”
Takumi stared for a few more moments before he cleared his throat. “Uh,” he started awkwardly, but then his gaze travelled down, and suddenly his already swollen eyes were bursting out of their sockets. “Aotsuki, you actually liked that?”
Eito had no time to react before Takumi’s palm was pressed against the bulge in his pants. His whole body tensed, hips pressed back into Takumi’s hold against his will.
”It was terrible,” Eito hissed.
”Shit,” Takumi replied unintelligently. “Shit, okay.”
He pulled his hand back, and Eito sighed in relief, scrambling back on the bed until he was as far away from the other as he could be. Takumi, the monster he was, had the gall to look apologetic after such a violation.
”Are you going to do it again?” Eito asked. He gestured vaguely to the hole in his chest.
Takumi didn’t respond for a very long moment. He opened and closed his mouth three times before finally speaking.
”I-I was gonna ask if I…” he trailed off. How annoying.
“Whatever it is, I’m sure it can’t be worse than what you just did.”
Takumi pressed his lips into a straight line. He looked at Eito, then the floor, then at Eito again. He sighed. “You’re gonna hate me.”
Eito wondered why something like that even mattered to Takumi at all. “I already do,” he said truthfully. “I hate you with every fiber of my being. Nothing you say could change that.”
It was momentarily silent before Takumi nodded. “Hearing you say that kind of does help, weirdly.” He paused. “I was going to ask if I could put it in?”
It took Eito approximately five seconds to understand what Takumi was asking for. Each second filled him with more horror than the last, until the full weight of it hit, and the worst wave of nausea Eito had ever experienced overcame him.
Eito bit down on the inside of his lip, hard. The sore re-opened, a coppery tang filling his mouth. He swallowed.
”Put it in,” Eito repeated back, as if it would make the suggestion less real, or, more appropriately, cause Takumi to spontaneously combust.
”You can tell me no!” Takumi yelled. His hands were raised in a sign of truce, a pathetic display of remorse.
Eito was never going to be able to get the image of it out of his mind now. Of Takumi’s bloated, veiny, hideous appendage—
“Alright,” Eito said. He was going to be sick. He was going to throw up all over Takumi, except he couldn’t, because then Takumi might stop coming to see him, and Eito would have to start at square one to come up with an escape plan.
Eito couldn’t suppress a gag. Takumi grimaced, his dozens of crooked teeth on display. “You don’t have to force yourself. Don’t worry about it.”
“I want to do my own laundry,” Eito said. Looking at his stained, Takumi-infested sheets, he elaborated. “Starting tonight. Twice a week. No more sending Shouma to do it.”
”Deal,” Takumi breathed out. He didn’t even hesitate, like the dog he is. So compliant, so desperate. “Get on the floor.”
Eito immediately got off the bed, knees hitting the metal floor. Takumi scrambled to stand up, the soles of his sneakers squeaking against metal before he steadied himself.
Finding himself at eye level with Takumi’s stomach, Eito chose to avert his gaze. The sound of a zipper and some shuffling had his heart pounding. Then the smell hit his olfactory receptors, of musk and sweat and rot. It was just how Takumi smelled everywhere else except so much worse. Eito switched to sucking in air through his mouth, but it barely helped.
”You at least have a condom, don’t you?” he asked. He made Takumi wear one any time that thing was involved in their negotiations.
”Um.” Some more shuffling. “Yea, I do.” The sound of plastic tearing, and latex rubbing against itself. Eito swallowed nothing down over and over until Takumi spoke again. “Ready?”
He was as ready as he could be for something so revolting. He nodded.
A presence much larger than a single finger passed through the entrance of his chest and prodded just like the finger before. That same feeling, those sparks of pure heat, adrenaline, and electricity coursed through him. He bit his lip as the tip of Takumi’s cock poked at him. It moved around, rubbing inside of Eito, each motion sending prickling warmth through his abdomen.
Takumi’s cock caught on what must have been some sort of entrance to who knows what before slipping deeper. Colors exploded in Eito’s mind, a slew of hues not unlike those of Takumi’s flesh overriding his vision. Fireworks bursted on his skin, hot flashes peaking and wading over and over in the span of seconds, all coming from the same central point in his chest.
For a moment, he thought he came until the sensations ebbed enough for him to feel that he was painfully, inconveniently hard in his pants.
Takumi muttered a ‘fuck’ at the same moment as Eito’s own choking gasp escaped him.
”C-can I move? Does it hurt?” Takumi asked, the screeching of his voice cutting through Eito’s momentary bliss. There, with Takumi still inside him, his mind cleared enough for him to speak.
”I’m fine,” Eito growled. He grabbed one of Takumi's greasy legs, just above where his jeans were pulled down, to steady himself . He was surprised to find it shaking under his grip. “Just shut up-“
Takumi’s cock slammed against his ribcage, or at least that was what it felt like. Eito sincerely hoped the holes didn’t go that deep. Could this kill him? As soon as the thought entered his mind, Takumi pulled halfway out before ramming back into him, and Eito keened. He didn’t care if it killed him.
”It’s almost like—“ Takumi cut himself off, panting. “Like putting it in some type of gelatin. It—wow, it may be as good as being inside you.”
You are inside me, Eito wanted to retort, but he could no longer locate his voice when Takumi was setting a steady rhythm in his chest. While the raw fiery sensation of first being entered had settled, his body still burned and trembled at every thrust.
Takumi grabbed a fistful of Eito’s hair—with the glove that had previously been in his mouth, he noted with disdain—and jerked on it so that Eito’s head tilted upwards to meet him eye to eye.
Eito hated that he was kneeling, that Takumi was above him when it absolutely should have been the other way around. It would be when Eito killed him, he promised himself that. He would have Takumi on his knees begging for mercy when he finally got to watch the light drain from his eyes.
But currently, Takumi's eyes were far from lifeless. The faulty prescription of his glasses wasn't enough to blur the appalling look on his face, pupils blown with lust and focused entirely on him. Eito tried to turn back to the side where he’d been looking before, but that only earned him another jerk of his hair.
”You look so pretty like this,” Takumi said. Eito’s hips bucked upwards into nothing but air, desperate for some kind of friction. “I want to see your face, Aotsuki”
Eito knew he was pretty. He was the only pretty human in the entire universe. Takumi didn’t deserve to look at him, didn’t deserve to touch him, didn’t deserve to utter his name, didn’t deserve to—
“T-Takumi—“ Eito whimpered. Takumi was picking up his pace, hitting a spot in Eito that was sending his body into shock over and over. The burn in his scalp from Takumi’s manhandling was nothing compared to the heat surging within him. “I can’t—I need—“
All he saw was white as he came. He buried his face in Takumi’s shirt, grabbing at his waist to force Takumi into him deeper, knuckles surely white where they gripped the smaller man. There was a sharp pain in Aotsuki’s chest that could have been anything from a bump to a cracked rib. He didn’t care. He couldn’t think. Somewhere above him was Takumi’s voice, but it was muffled, too far away, clearly not important. It almost sounded bearable in that state.
He collapsed backwards, back screaming in protest when it hit the metal floor. It hurt much less than the feeling of Takumi slipping out of him. Eito cried out, then winced as the sticky clear liquid splattered all over both of them. He could tell it was warm even through his class armor.
Takumi followed him to the ground, arms landing on either side of Eito to hold himself up. Takumi straddled his chest, leaning forward so far that the fabric of his shirt rubbed Eito’s nose. Then, with one swift motion, he pushed back into Eito, who recoiled, his whole body seizing up with sensitivity.
”Too much—“ Eito gasped out. Above him, Takumi continued to fuck into Eitos chest. His thighs dug into either side of Eito as he leaned his weight into him fully. He moaned without restraint, the sound shrill. Eito tingled all over. The shockwaves continued to hit his body with such intensity that spots of black filled his vision . He vaguely registered that his cock was somehow still reacting where it was tucked in his ruined jeans and boxers.
”You’re tighter than before,” Takumi commented. His breaths were shallow. Eito wanted to see his face, to see the way his putrid features twisted while he prolonged the defilement of Eito’s spent body. From his angle, he could only see the curve of Takumi’s lopsided neck, the lump of flesh that was his Adam's apple bobbing with every breath he took. “Fuck, is that because you came?”
Eito wasn’t sure if the pulsing he felt in his chest was his own heart or Takumi's cock or both at the same time.
”Get off of me, you disgusting freak!” Eito spat the last word with as much venom as he could muster in his state.
Eito yelped when Takumi pulled out of him yet again, but he knew it wasn’t worth it to scold him over it. Takumi didn’t care if he hurt Eito, and he knew Eito didn’t care if he was hurt.
”Fine. But since you didn’t uphold your end, I’m taking this off.”
Eito didn’t register his words at first. He was too busy being astounded at the feeling of being empty, like his soul had been ripped clean from his chest. If he even had a soul, that is. Eito had been told by more than one person that he didn’t have one, that he couldn’t. And even if he did, maybe now it had been fucked out of him for good.
Eito was hoisted up under his arms until he was back in a kneeling position. His exhausted body naturally slumped, but that didn’t matter when Takumi was so much smaller than him in the first place.
He realized what was going to happen only a second before Takumi had shoved his cock in his mouth.
Takumi groaned, quickly setting a fast pace. “Never gotten to feel you for real like this before.”
Rotting, oozing flesh saturated Eito’s tastebuds, stronger than it ever had before. There was another taste, too—something rich, somewhere between blood and liqueur, sickly sweet. It must have been whatever came out of Eito’s chest, but there wasn't enough of it to mask Takumi’s flavor.
Quickly, Eito realized what Takumi had been talking about moments prior. The condom was gone.
Gross gross gross. So disgusting.
Eito’s mouth flooded as the urge to vomit overcame him, and then Takumi’s cock hit the back of his mouth and he was choking, and he had to remember how to swallow so that it didn’t make his gag reflex worse.
Takumi took hold of his hair once again, this time with both hands, and forced Eito’s head still so that he was pliant to the brutal thrusts. A glance upwards proved that Takumi was far gone, completely lost to his urges as he fucked Eito’s mouth.
Drool dribbled down Eito’s chin, and he recognized a wetness on his cheeks that could have been sweat, spit, tears, or a mix of all three. He vaguely felt the sting of that sore, but there was no hint of blood on his tongue. Only Takumi.
Fortunately, Takumi’s cock was so far down his throat that when he came, Eito didn’t have to taste much of it. Takumi lingered in his mouth, thrusting until he was too sensitive to continue, pushing into Eito’s face even when his cock was as deep as it could get.
When Takumi pulled out of his mouth with a pop, Eito immediately sputtered, long strands of spit pooling on the ground while he breathed deeply, forcing the bile back down.
”You’re—“ Takumi took a long breath. “—starting to get good at that, actually.”
’You were terrible before’ went without saying. Takumi had said as much the first time he made Eito do that nauseating act, and yet he still had him do it time and time again.
Eito saw red. Ignoring the wobbling of his bones, the weakness spreading throughout his whole body, he lunged at Takumi. There was a moment where Takumi’s eyes widened as he realized he was being attacked, but there wasn’t fear on Takumi’s features, only anticipation. It pissed Eito off to no end.
Takumi landed with a thump on the bed. He winced. The bed wasn’t particularly soft or comfortable, so Eito was sure the pounce hurt. He grinned.
”Aotsuki—“
Eito cut Takumi off as he crawled on top of him, sinking his teeth into his neck. Takumi cried out beneath him, but Eito didn’t let up until blood coated his tongue, satisfied despite the grotesque taste.
Now Takumi would either have to kill himself to get rid of the bite mark or risk having to explain it to the rest of the Special Defense Unit. The thought filled him with satisfaction.
Takumi hissed in pain, fingers coming to the back of Eito’s neck, but he wasn't pushing Eito away. Eito pulled back to marvel at the indents of his teeth on Takumi’s skin, spitting the blood from his mouth on the sheets. Takumi had better not go back on his deal about washing them.
”I hate you so much,” Eito told him.
”That freaking hurt,” Takumi whined in response. He shuffled around a bit until one of his thighs pressed up against Eito’s crotch. “Is this what you want?”
A sound close to weeping ripped itself from Eito’s throat. He was so sensitive that it hurt. Stupid, ugly, disgusting Takumi. Did he expect Eito to rut against him like an animal? Because he wouldn’t. He would rather kill himself.
”I hate you,” Eito repeated. Tears pricked at his eyes.
”I know,” Takumi replied, and then the fingers in his hair scrunched at the nape of his neck. He pressed his leg further against Eito, whose clothed cock rubbed feverishly against the friction. He let out a strangled noise. Takumi whispered, “I got you,” and it made him feel so much worse.
Eito didn’t even register that he had become hard again—that he’d been hard for a while—until he was coming inside his already sticky, wet boxers.
And Takumi held him through it, one hand slipping to the dip in Eito’s back as he rode out his orgasm. A clearly vile endeavor on Takumi’s part to placate him. To degrade another human so thoroughly and then offer comfort as if it made up for the abuse—it was just like him.
Eito bonelessly sank down where he laid on top of Takumi, who took wheezing breaths below him. Every rise and fall of his chest brought with it the gurgling noises of Takumi’s skin squishing and reshaping unnaturally.
Pretty soon, Shouma would arrive to let Takumi out of the cage. Eito was sure he already knew what was going on after facilitating their meetings so many times. He’d have to be an idiot not to, but Takumi still liked to save face, meaning he would have to get dressed and decent within the next few minutes.
Then he would go back to being the Special Defense Unit’s leader as if nothing had happened. As if he wasn’t debasing himself for the person who betrayed all of them.
Eito couldn’t wait until he escaped. There was nothing more that he wanted than for Takumi to know that he had failed, that he had placed his trust in Eito again only to be burned worse than ever before. And when Eito killed every last member of the SDU, Takumi would have no one to blame but himself.
Takumi’s gloved fingers continued to comb through Eito’s hair like he was a caregiver, or, more nauseatingly, a lover. Eito was sure that if he lifted his head, Takumi’s hideous too-many eyes would be there to greet him. He couldn’t handle that even more than the caresses.
Eito needed to get off of him soon, or else he would be even more sick than he already felt, but he couldn’t quite move yet. Below him, Takumi’s breath began to even out.