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The room smelled of old wood and the faint copper of blood already drying on his skin. The lamp on the nightstand painted everything in low, honeyed light, but nothing could soften what was happening on the bed.
Yoshiki’s shirt lay open, chest glistening with spit and the imprints of ‘Hikaru’s’ teeth. Every bite had drawn a little blood, thin red threads ran down the hollow of his throat and pooled in the dip of his collarbone. His nipples were swollen, almost bruised, aching with each shallow breath. The zipper of his jeans gaped obscenely, his cock straining against the soaked front of his boxers, the fabric dark where he had already leaked for too long.
‘Hikaru’ hovered over him, eyes blown wide and glowing that unnatural, beautiful red. He looked at Yoshiki the way a child looks at the only thing he has ever loved. Wondering, reverent, and completely unafraid of breaking it.
“Do you like this?” ‘Hikaru’ asked, voice soft, almost shy.
Yoshiki’s throat closed. Shame flooded his face like fever. He turned away and slammed his forearm over his eyes. “What are you saying,” he rasped.
‘Hikaru’ caught both wrists in one hand and pinned them to the pillow. The grip was gentle in intent and merciless in strength. Yoshiki felt his own pulse hammering against ‘Hikaru’s’ palm.
“Then…” ‘Hikaru’s’ head tilted, that small, almost innocent smile tugging at his lips. “Would you like anything I did to you? Anything at all?”
The question cracked something open inside Yoshiki’s chest. For a second the room was only their breathing and the wet sound of his own heartbeat. He stared up at the boy, the monster, and the words tore out of him before he could stop them.
“I don’t know,” Yoshiki whispered, voice cracking. “I never know with you. You scare the shit out of me. But I… Fuck– I keep letting you. I keep wanting you to–”
The rest died in his throat.
‘Hikaru’s’ smile softened, almost sad, as if he understood something Yoshiki himself never would. Then the skin of his face began to melt.
It happened slowly, like wax under a flame. The familiar lines of cheekbones and jaw dissolved into glossy black, glistening, alive. Tendrils of that other flesh rose, cool and slick, and pushed between Yoshiki’s parted lips before the scream could form. They slid down his throat, past the frantic flutter of his pulse, and slipped into the soft, secret places of his brain.
The world inverted.
Pain and pleasure braided together until he could not tell which was which. Yoshiki’s body arched violently, every muscle seizing under his skin in long, helpless spasms.
He thrashed, heels digging into the mattress, trying to throw ‘Hikaru’ off, but more of the black mass poured out. Thick ropes wrapped his chest and arms, gluing him down like a sacrifice. His biceps jumped and twitched under the unyielding hold. His abdomen clenched so hard he felt the nerves lit up like wires.
‘Hikaru’ watched him with those wide, adoring eyes, now set in a face that was no longer a face. A cool tentacle brushed across Yoshiki’s tear-wet cheek, almost tender.
“Shh,” he whispered, the sound vibrating straight into Yoshiki’s skull. “It’s okay. I know you’ll like this. I always know what you like, Yoshiki.”
More flesh flowed over him, pinning his hips, curling around his thighs. ‘Hikaru’ dragged Yoshiki’s pants and boxers down in one rough yank. His cock slapped wetly against his stomach, throbbing, betraying him.
‘Hikaru’ freed himself just enough. The head of his cock was already slick with that dark, oily fluid that burned and soothed at the same time. He pressed it against Yoshiki’s dry, tight and untouched entrance.
Yoshiki tried to scream. The tentacles in his throat turned it into a wet, choking gurgle.
‘Hikaru’ looked down at him with that same heartbreaking gentleness. “It’s okay,” he murmured. “I’ll take care of you. I promise.”
The first slow push felt like it tore him open, and Yoshiki’s body convulsed. His legs shook so hard the muscles in his thighs stood out in rigid cords. He kicked, heels drumming uselessly against the bed. Tentacles snapped around his ankles and wrenched his knees apart, spreading him wide and helpless.
Tears poured from the corners of his eyes. Blood trickled from the fresh bites on his neck, from his split lip, even a thin line from his nose where the pressure inside his skull was crushing him. He was drowning from the inside, lungs burning and vision spotting black, certain this was how he would die. Impaled and filled and loved to death by the only person who had ever looked at him like he mattered.
Then the tentacles inside his brain pulsed.
And everything reversed.
The agony of being torn open flipped into a deep, rolling pleasure so intense it felt like dying anyway. His hips jerked upward of their own accord, chasing the stretch, the burn, the impossible fullness. Shame flooded him, thick and bitter, but he could not stop moving.
‘Hikaru’ groaned, low and reverent, and began to thrust slowly and deliberately, letting the invasion settle.
“See?” he breathed. “I told you. I told you it would feel good.”
Yoshiki sobbed around the living things in his throat. He rocked up to meet every thrust, pathetic, desperate, ruined.
‘Hikaru’ folded him in half until his knees bracketed his own head, exposing him completely. New tendrils pushed into his urethra — sharp, invasive, exquisite — while others forced deeper down his throat until he gagged helplessly, saliva and black fluid bubbling at the corners of his mouth.
He was bleeding everywhere. From his wrecked entrance, from the fresh bites on his shoulders, from his nose, from the places where teeth had broken skin again and again.
He felt like meat. Like prey. Like something small and trembling being devoured alive by a monster that loved him so completely it did not understand the difference between worship and destruction.
And still his body answered. Still his cock wept. Still his walls clenched and fluttered around the brutal invasion like they were trying to keep ‘Hikaru’ inside forever.
‘Hikaru’ fucked him harder, hips snapping with a violence that should have shattered him. Tentacles coiled tight around the base of his cock, denying him release over and over. Bites landed like brands. Blood painted both their skin.
Yoshiki’s mind fractured. He was crying, shaking, every muscle turned to water, but the only thought left in the wreckage was simple and devastating.
This is the only way anyone has ever loved me completely.
‘Hikaru’ leaned down, pressing what was left of his mouth to the shell of Yoshiki’s ear.
“I love you,” he whispered, voice cracking with something ancient, greater than life itself. “I love you so much.”
Yoshiki’s vision went white. His body gave out completely. He was limp, trembling, nothing left but the overwhelming sensation of being owned, consumed, and adored beyond reason.
In the shattered and filthy silence of his mind, he knew he would crawl back for this tomorrow, and the day after, and every day until the thing that wore Hikaru's face finally finished eating him whole.
And he would thank it for the privilege.