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Once upon a time, Goro had loved him. They were young then—Akira naive to the world. He'd been fattened on sweet stories of fairytale romances and foolish enough to believe he could have one. Goro had known better, even then, but Akira had swayed him toward daydreams and away from bitter reality. They had spoken of running away together—the little bunny boy and his panther bride who knew so little about the world beyond his walled garden. They would build a life off stolen jewels from his mother's vanity and childish hope.
They had rehearsed their dream wedding so many times, using flowers as rings until Goro had pulled from his pocket a small band of silver and rubies—the same colors as their eyes.
"This is a promise," Goro had said, a soft flush against his cheeks as he said words that any other day he would have called brainlessly sentimental. "I'll marry you one day."
But Akira had broken Goro’s heart, yet couldn’t let go of that ring. Even when Akira had been forced to marry another, he had worn it around his neck on a leather cord close to his heart.
Maybe in the end, that was why they ended up here.
The collar Goro had placed upon his bride's neck gleamed with rubies as red as spilt blood. Against the white of Akira's wedding garments, it was a precious slit throat.
Those in attendance could do no more than stare in horror. The former emperor had not even grown cold in the unmarked pauper's grave Goro had tossed him into. Was it not enough to steal his throne? Would their tyrant emperor not rest until every last memory of Emperor Shido was desecrated?
It was a threat as well. Look, Goro seemed to say as his finger caressed across the pale of Akira's trembling throat, at how easily this carnivore bends to me. I do not need the fangs of a beast to make you heel at my feet, and if you dare to defy me, the red upon your throat will not be made of fine jewels.
As the covenant of their marriage was sealed before the eyes of nobles made to bow to a hybrid they would have once deemed inferior, nobody dared to speak a word against their new emperor.
As the bells chimed to celebrate the Lagomorph Emperor's wedding to his conquest, Akira could not help but think they sounded like a death knell.
As soon as they stepped into the grand hall that would be Akira's new gilded cage, he was whisked away from Goro's tight grip and into the arms of gentle maids with button noses and delicate lop ears.
Akira had once heard that Emperor Shido was fond of bunny hybrids—their cute, round faces and docile natures made them excellent pets, he'd claimed. His palace was filled with them; it was not uncommon to see one lounging against his shoulder, parting her lips to take from his fingers a bite of something sweet.
(They never did seem to last long, though. Not that anyone would dare to question the great Emperor Shido.)
This preference kicked off a wave of nobles purchasing their own rabbit hybrids, all in the hopes that through emulation alone they could achieve some of the glory their emperor possessed.
It had been the reason his own father brought Goro into their home.
Though the sweet-faced rabbit maids who tended to him now were far older than the kind that were so common among court nobles. Age had been allowed to leave their mark upon these women's faces, and gray speckled through their fur and hair.
They spoke with ease to each other as they prepared Akira for his wedding night, only occasionally deigning to acknowledge him with a request to move here and there.
He'd been stripped down to nothing and forced into a bath that smelled of sweet roses. His body was softened with oils, his claws filed down until they were blunt and harmless. As soon as he emerged from the warm water, he was draped in silk that made him shiver as it brushed against his skin.
He felt a little like a doll in their hands. Or more accurately a spoiled house cat. His family, who had once prided themselves on their panther lineage, would surely roll in their graves.
The only thing the maids dare not do…
"His Highness does not wish for us to prepare the consort in that manner," he heard one admonish the other as she slapped away the hand reaching for the pot of scentless lotion. In a softer, furtive voice, she whispered, "He wishes to do so himself."
Akira flushed as he realized what was contained inside.
He knew well what a wedding night entailed, but there had been a part of him that expected Goro to forego such rites. Akira was as the deer pinned to the mantle, a trophy to prove Goro's conquest over all who had wronged him.
It was all just revenge, wasn't it?
Goro's own father cast his mother to the side when she'd been of no use, forced the two of them to grovel, and left them to rot; and so Goro stole the throne from him and let the worms feast upon Shido’s corpse.
The Kurusu family had bought him as a pet, and so he had burned the family estate that had once been his cage to the ground.
And Akira? His once so dear childhood love? The very boy who Goro let hold his fragile, atrophied heart and teach it how to beat again? The boy who took that heart and shattered it with venomous lies…
— "You will never be good enough for me."
(I love you too much to let you die.)
— "You really thought I loved you? I was only playing make believe."
(I wish we could have lived in this fantasy until the end of our days.)
— "I'm nobility, Akechi. You can't expect me to marry some common bunny hybrid."
(My father would see you killed before he ever allowed me to be yours.)
He made himself the emperor of the land, slaughtered the noble that Akira had been married off to, and took Akira for his own.
But a sham marriage had no need for consummation.
So then, was this too part of his revenge? To make a mockery of their childhood promises until Akira's heart was as shattered as Goro's had been?
Time did not permit him to linger on such thoughts; a knock on the door of the bedroom announced the Emperor's arrival.
"Is my bride ready for me?" Goro's voice was as lovely as the day he had promised to marry Akira, despite the years that should have stripped away such softness.
"Yes, Your Highness."
The three maids rose to their feet, gathering all but the little jar filled with salve. As they filed out, Akira felt himself begin to tremble.
Goro breached the threshold of the room, and no longer could Akira retreat into his memories. There was nowhere to turn but the present—an opulent room fit for royalty, the plush bed upon which he sat, and his husband, his emperor—who would take his bride.
He had not allowed his eyes to linger upon Goro's face during the ceremony; now he could not tear his eyes away from him.
Their years apart wore away that sweetness he remembered in Goro's features, leaving behind jagged edges so sharp Akira feared they might draw blood. Even still, Akira found him breathtakingly handsome.
Even though his father had so cruelly denied him a title, Goro suited the regality of an emperor. He wore the finery with a confidence that commanded one's attention. Those piercing red eyes pinned Akira where he sat and denied him relief.
"It's been a while, hasn't it?"
Akira's heart thundered in his chest.
What was he to say, now that it was just the two of them? When there were no swords stained with blood, when no audience could wait with bated breath for the spectacle?
Despite everything, Akira never stopped loving this man. Would never stop loving him. Nothing Goro could do to him would be able to change that, short of plunging a knife in his chest and stilling Akira's heartbeat.
Yet even then, perhaps his love would persist. In the air Goro breathed, in the ground he walked, fed by Akira's blood.
Even if Goro would never return that love.
Akira's lips fell open, but he couldn't seem to find the words to explain anything.
A twitch of his ears, a darkening in his gaze; Goro's disappointment filled the silence Akira left behind.
With a flick of his wrist, Goro let his red mantle drift to the floor. In the next move, he was a hunter on the prowl—encircling Akira where he sat upon the bed, gait menacing in its cadence. Akira closed his eyes yet could not help but feel those wine red eyes boring into him.
"Does it scare you, Akira?"
Akira jumped as he felt the touch of leather-clad fingertips against his chin, the tight grip enough to force his eyes open.
Goro was even more breathtaking up close. Though the world had done its best to sharpen him, Akira could still see the lingering softness of the boy he'd fallen for. The soft curve of his cheeks framed by the auburn hair; Akira could still recall how soft it had been when he'd run his fingers through it. That alluring look of dark eyes as they studied him from behind his long lashes. The pink of his lips pursed in a frown that begged to be kissed away—if only Akira could ever dare be so bold.
Goro spoke as softly as they had when they'd once whispered their dreams to each other, "To be at my mercy? I could have killed you." His grip on Akira's chin loosened and he allowed his fingers to dance down the column of Akira's throat. "I could kill you now. You are helpless against me. At the mercy of a simple bunny, how pathetic."
Akira watched an almost ragged breath shake Goro's shoulders. A look not unlike the one he'd worn as he'd struck down Akira's former spouse flashed behind his eyes—a hunger for violence, for destruction, for conquest.
"You're mine now. All mine. To do with as I please."
The dance of Goro's fingers did not stop their march with Akira's neck, instead descending down his chest, parting gently the silken robes to expose flushed skin to open air.
Akira, despite all rationality, could not help but curse the leather of Goro's gloves for the barrier it put between them. Even though he shouldn't want anything his captor gave, a part of him still desired to feel Goro's hands on him. To learn the calluses that had formed in their years apart.
"How shall I make you suffer for all the wrongs you did upon me? Shall I take you until you weep for mercy, your voice ringing throughout the country for all to hear? Shall I parade you around, stripped down to nothing, make you crawl on all fours—a pet has no need for human decency, after all. Or maybe I shall make you a spectacle for the court, taking you right on my throne so the entire kingdom knows you are nobility no longer. All you are is my whore."
With every word Goro spat, a spirit of mania seemed to possess him. Fire raged behind his eyes; Akira feared he would be burned to ashes—trapped as he was in their gaze.
And yet, despite it all, Akira's thighs squeezed together.
"Goro," he rasped, though he knew not what he would ask for. Sense to return to his beloved? Or perhaps, more dangerously…
"No… Those are far too good for you." As if scorched himself, Goro's hand tore away from Akira's body and clutched at his chest. An eerie calmness seemed to descend upon Goro—somehow scarier, Akira thought, than the madness had been.
"The punishment you deserve…" Though it was nothing more than a hand cradling his cheek, Akira's body instinctually flinched at Goro's touch. "For all the cruelty you gave to me, I shall return it with a kindness so sickening it feels like poison in your veins."
Akira's heart sank as he watched Goro doff the mask of the tyrant, and a new mask settled in its stead.
"Now," cooed the ghost of a boy who Akira had not yet betrayed, "Akira, won't you undress your husband?"
They had spoken of many foolish things when they were younger. Of their dreams, of a life together, of the ramshackle wedding they would have… and of course, of the first night they would spend together as husbands.
Goro touched Akira as though Akira had never broken his heart—as if instead of concubine and emperor they were two boys fooling around in whatever inn they could afford after they'd eloped.
Hands, desperate to explore the bare body before him, danced clumsily across the curve of Akira's chest, his waist, his hips. Fingers dug into the plumpness of his thighs, nudging them apart as Goro took his place between them.
Soft lips left their mark upon Akira's skin, constellations of pinks and red that would purple with time. Teeth caught upon a dusky nipple, teasing until Akira's throat let out a helpless whine, back arching into Goro's mouth.
Akira's tail, a mind all of its own, curled itself around Goro, twitching with every pleasure Goro gave him.
It was delicious torture.
Akira, the heartsick fool, could not help but let Goro do as he pleased. He opened his mouth for every drop of sweet poison Goro gave him and begged for more. He had wanted this for so long, had dreamed of this even in his life married to another. Was it so wrong to let himself fall for these lies?
(Of course, whatever rational part of Akira's mind remained argued, of course, it was. Hadn't your lies gotten us into this mess in the first place?)
As slick fingers teased gently at Akira's hole, Akira could not help but rock against them. He welcomed the intrusion, the strange pressure as a single digit slipped in for the first time.
It was an odd sensation but not unwelcome—especially knowing who it belonged to. Goro was inside him, even just this small part. Soon it would be more, soon he would be able to feel Goro inside him, fucking him, taking him—
Oh, gods. He could not cum from just the thought alone. His cheeks flushed at the thought. "I," Akira panted, "I can take more. Please, don't tease me."
Perhaps it was only an illusion through the lust-addled haze coating his brain, but for a split second Akira swore that Goro's eyes flared with hot jealousy. He caught himself before it could ignite into an inferno, and when he spoke, his voice was honey-soaked, "Now, now, Akira. I don't want to hurt you. Be patient." Goro chuckled as he pressed a kiss against Akira's jaw, nipping as if in warning. "It's going to be a long night, darling. You know what they say about rabbits and stamina?"
Goro didn't slip the next finger in until tears began to form in the corner of Akira's eyes. He was meticulous as he stretched Akira open, testing every angle and crook of his fingers to ascertain just where to hit to leave Akira whining.
It was as if he was studying Akira. As if he strove to make this session a lesson that he could take into every future encounter to drive Akira to the brink of madness.
By the time Goro's fingers slipped from Akira's hole, Akira was a senseless mess. His cock wept against his stomach, hard and flushed. It was a miracle he had not splattered his chest with white before even learning the shape of Goro's cock.
So, truly it was no surprise when stripped of that sweet sensation of maddening pleasure, Akira cried out. "No! No, no!"
Goro chuckled, pausing mid-move to scoop out more salve. "No? Are you not ready yet? Shall I prepare you more, Akira?"
Akira's hands scrambled at Goro's back, though filed down as his claws were, they did little to leave even the faintest mark upon Goro's skin.
"No, no no, no," he slurred out each word, unable to string a sentence together. All he could do was hope Goro understood his nonsense. "Whant… cock…"
Maybe if sense remained in his mind, if it had not slipped as easily from as his moans did, he might have felt the shame his father had instilled in him as a Panther hybrid. He was to be respected. Feared! Not simper and bend the knee for someone as inferior as an herbivore.
But sense had fled him, and in its place, lust had taken the throne.
Goro, in a rare act of mercy, did not pretend he did not know exactly what Akira desired.
"Alright then, if you're so certain."
Goro slicked himself up,
And oh, it was as if the world melted away as Goro's cock breached him for the first time.
He was much thicker than his fingers had been. Warmer. Blood rushed to Akira's ears and he could only hear the thumpthumpthump of his heart as Goro settled deep into him.
As if the wind had been pushed from Goro's lungs, he stalled as his hips met flush with Akira's. His chest heaved with exertion, surely resisting the urge to succumb to his species' nature and fuck Akira hard and fast.
But Akira wanted him to. Wanted to feel the unrestrained power of Goro's thrusts as he ravaged Akira's body. Wanted to be ruined until he could do nothing come morning but lounge in this bed that smelled of their coupling.
Forcing himself up, Akira captured Goro's panting mouth in his. It was an awkward, fumbling kiss filled with all the things Akira could not say.
Take me. Use me. Breed me.
Yours, yours, yours.
And whatever remained of Goro's self-restraint snapped.
It was truly smart thinking on Goro's part to have his maids dull Akira's nails. His back would surely have been clawed to ribbons by Akira's pleasure.
They were in all senses nothing more than animals in heat, a mating frenzy at its finest.
Goro's studying had truly paid off. Even though he fucked Akira roughly, each thrust was pointed to target all the sensitives he'd uncovered in his foreplay. The restraint Akira had shown in not cumming in that entire time did not last long against Goro's demonstration in exactly how well he knew Akira's body.
Cum splattered against his chest, even all the way up to his chin. With a somewhat wild grin, Goro lapped it up and shoved his tongue inside Akira's mouth so he too could taste the efforts of Goro's work.
I did this to you, it seemed to say.
It was not the last time Akira would cum, even though his body already fell limp in Goro's hold. Against all odds, Goro fucked him through the overstimulation of his orgasm and right back into aching hardness. A fact he took no small amount of pleasure in, if the way his grip on Akira's hips seemed to briefly grow tighter every time he came.
At some point—drained of even the energy to experience pleasure—Akira drifted into unconsciousness.
Only faint flashes of his dreams would follow him into the waking world. A small coastal town, Goro's hand in his, a little cabin just for the two of them…
When he woke, it was to Goro soft, inside him, cradling his body close to his chest. He was babbling in Akira's ear a refrain of, "I love you, I love you, I love you. I hate you. Please don't leave me. Please."
Hot tears splashed against Akira's cheek; a coldness seeped into his chest.
Goro hadn't realized Akira was awake, and so his bleeding heart stained their bed crimson: "I loved you so much, so why didn't you love me? Why is the only way I could have you by force? Why am I not good enough for you? Why can't I be enough? Why, why, why?"
It felt like Akira had stepped through the ice and plunged into a cold river.
How long had Goro been baring himself to Akira's unconscious form? What other truths had he let slip?
What could Akira even say to such a confession?
"I love you too. You were always good enough to me."
He wasn't a foolish child anymore.
It's not as if Goro's heart would ever accept such words. In their years apart, he had built up walls around himself. And in taking Akira as his bride as he had, he destroyed the only key remaining that could open the gate.
Whatever Akira dared say, whatever tenderness he tried to give to Goro, there was no more reaching him. Every single action would forever be tainted with the truth that Akira was nothing more than a concubine.
If their own wedding was by force, what truth could there be in his words of love?
Goro had been right.
There truly was no better torture for a cruel man such as him.
And so, Akira could no more than listen as his emperor, his captor, and his beloved wept—holding tight to his chest the words he would never say and dreaming of the life they could have had, if only he had not shattered it all.