Chapter Text
Chuuya had to excuse himself from a very important meeting.
At first, he didn’t understand what was happening to him. He thought he just got horny all of a sudden out of the blue. Maybe it was because he took his daily dose of testosterone right before the meeting. It happened sometimes, randomly getting turned on. He thought he’d just deal with it after the meeting.
But it became clear as day after a minute that it was definitely something more than that. It dawned on him, as the sensation became more aggressive, that it felt like a very long and slender, eager finger was fucking him. Someone’s finger was inside of him while he sat fully clothed in a chair surrounded by executives and key figures in the mafia. It took everything in him not to make a sound, not to arouse suspicion. His cheeks flushed a warm shade of red. He knew what was happening. Someone got a hold of his fleshlight and they were using it. The special one that suspiciously showed up in a box on his doorstep one random day wrapped like a present. It was a fleshlight that, through some sort of ability he figured, was connected to his actual pussy. Whatever happened to that fleshlight happened to him in real-time. That’s why he locked it away, hoping to prevent a situation in which it got used against him.
Like right now.
He didn’t know for sure who might have taken it or whether the person knew the significance of the toy or not. He kept it locked in his safe in his apartment so there were only two likelihoods. Either someone didn’t know it was there and broke in for another reason—like retrieving the blackmail information Mori gave him about an executive from a rival organization—and just decided to take the fleshlight as well or, someone knew it was there and broke in specifically to steal it. He didn’t know which was worse.
The finger explored his cavity feeling up every inch of him. The pressure in his tight hole stimulated his sensitive skin sending tingles of delight dissipating through his pelvis. He squirmed in his seat, trying not to bring attention to himself.
Had whoever gifted it to him taken it back? If that was the case, why would they have sent it to him in the first place? Maybe the ability needed some sort of activating condition…
The finger gently slid in and out making small swirls inside a few times. Chuuya took in a deep breath, irritation and arousal welling in his chest.
He needed to get home immediately. If the perpetrator was still there, he’d beat the ever-loving shit out of them for thinking they could get away with something perverted like this with him. If they weren’t there, hopefully the hidden cameras caught them.
After silently enduring the humiliation for far too long, Kōyō noticed the look of discomfort on his face. She gave him a subtle look, her eyes conveying the question, “Are you okay?” Chuuya wracked his brain for a plausible excuse to get him out of the meeting but it was hard to concentrate when a second finger slipped inside of him and the two managed to find his g-spot after a little clumsy searching. He stifled a gasp, straightening up with a jolt. Everyone’s attention was drawn to Chuuya. He gulped nervously, his pits sweating.
“Is something wrong Chuuya?” An annoying, nosy voice asked.
Chuuya glared at Dazai who was sitting across the table from him with a haughty gleam in his eyes, as per usual.
The fingers curled and stroked the wall right behind his clit. The bundle of sensitive nerves buzzed with excitement and he felt himself wetting his boxers. He clasped his legs together and swallowed down the moans that desperately wished to be let out.
“I think—I think I ate something earlier… that’s giving me a hard time,” He said and then another finger thrust itself inside of him so deep the three of them hit his cervix. Chuuya bent forward grabbing his pelvis and then stood up abruptly. “I think I need to leave,” He tipped his hat to Mori as both a sign of courtesy and an attempt to hide his embarrassment.
Once he was out of the meeting room he wanted desperately to book it to his apartment but he only got so far as the elevator before he collapsed, unable to withstand the thrusting of four fingers repeatedly hitting his cervix and another hand pinching and stroking his hard, throbbing clit-dick. As the elevator descended Chuuya looked at himself in the mirrored wall. The thought occurred to him that he needed to see what was happening down there. He looked at the LED display counting down each floor.
38, 37, 36…
It was a gamble, a precarious gamble. The elevator could stop for someone on any floor and he could get caught with his pussy on display, throbbing, dripping wet, and getting fucked by god knows what. He cupped his cunt. The seat of his pants was warm and damp.
Fuck… He cursed to himself, knowing he had to take that gamble.
He hastily undid his belt watching the LED display anxiously. He hiked his pants and boxers down to his knees and lifted his legs, his feet finding a perch on the handrail. He stared at his soaking wet cunt. There were no actual fingers to see but still, his pink, puffy labia parted around something invisible showing off his gaping hole with every thrust.
“Fuck,” He cursed.
Chuuya was furious. He wanted desperately to take hold of those fingers and crush them with a fist shrouded in the dense weight of gravity. But when he felt around his swollen pussy there was nothing to grab. In fact, he could slide his own fingers inside of himself, feeling the confusing but pleasurable sensation of overlapping penetration.
There was nothing he could do to stop this from happening.
He whined in frustration and pleasure, his body reacting to that terrifying realization in the opposite way of which he probably should have reacted. Despite his anger, fear, and frustration, his arousal only increased more and more. He watched helplessly as his walls molded around those invisible, nimble fingers. The foreskin over his bottom growth slid up and down his sensitive dick. Slick gushed out of him with every thrust, his pussy squelching loudly.
Fuck, fuck, fuck…
Chuuya’s head rolled back and a deep, passionate moan escaped his lips. He couldn’t stop the sounds rippling up his throat.
“Aaahhhmmmhhhhh!” He cried out loudly forgetting where he was.
He covered his mouth with a hand to muffle his screams, worried of how the sound carried. But, while everything happening was crazy-making, the fantasy of being fucked during a meeting by someone invisible to him both infuriated him because he didn’t know who was violating him, but also turned him on like crazy. He was so close to an orgasm. His thighs shook from the strain of his tensed-up muscles. His eyes flitted back to the floor-level display and fear immediately gripped his chest.
9, 8, 7…
“Shit!” He cursed. “Oh fuck no, please…”
He wanted to cum. He needed to cum.
6, 5, 4…
He was right on the edge, just a few more seconds. He thought about his situation, the mortifying possibility of someone catching him in such a compromised position. He didn’t even care anymore who was doing the fucking. He wanted them to get rougher. He felt their knuckles sink into his stretched-out hole.
3, 2, 1… Ding!
“Fuck!” He lunged for the elevator button that closed the doors.
The elevator stalled for a moment and in that moment, the fingers shifted into just the right angle and he rolled over the edge.
He came hard.
He’d never felt an orgasm this intense before. It rippled across his body in waves of satisfaction. His limbs shivered and his pelvic muscles tensed and relaxed with each spurt of cum flowing out of his cunt. He sat with his back against the elevator wall below the panel of buttons and furiously clicked the "close doors" button repeatedly. He kept his other hand glued to his mouth and held in the desperate cries wanting to escape his lips. He didn't want his voice to carry through the crack in the elevator door but he couldn't stop the faintest of whimpers that vibrated in his throat.
He’d been forced into such a humiliating position. It scared him and frustrated him and aroused him like never before. He felt shame and embarrassment for having a non-con kink and not even caring who his assailant was in the moment. He'd only ever done cnc scenes with Dazai before and those were exhilarating but, at the same time, he felt such a strong explosion of pleasure, one he'd never come close to in those scenes, and he was so deeply into it.
He rode out the conclusion of his climax just as the elevator doors jostled and slowly slid open. Someone outside must have pushed the button.
“Shit!” Chuuya scrambled to hike up his pants.
It was just his rotten luck that someone was waiting for the elevator. At least the man had his back to the doors and his head stuffed in his massive suitcase, fucking around with whatever was inside. Chuuya yanked his pants up, zipped them shut, and finished buckling his belt just as the man turned around.
“Woah, hey Chuuya… uh… are you… okay…?” Perhaps the second most annoying voice in the mafia assaulted his ears.
Motojirou lifted his stupid-ass goggles to get a better look at him. Chuuya panted heavily, his face hot and sweaty from both the afterglow of his orgasm and the mortifying situation those cunning fingers put him in. Of all the people in the mafia he could have run into at a time like this, why was it the fucking lemon guy?
“I’m great—” Chuuya replied curtly getting up onto his feet.
He picked his long coat off the floor, straightened out his vest, adjusted his hat, and stalked out of the elevator briskly. Luckily the fingers had stopped their assault moments after he came so he was unhindered in his stride. The timing was a little too perfect for his liking but he had bigger issues to resolve.
Motojirou shrugged and lugged his large suitcase into the elevator. The doors closed and he hummed to himself, looking around absentmindedly when he noticed one of his geta sandals was partially stepping in an odd wet spot on the floor. He lifted his sandal out of the spot and a sticky residue clung to the teeth of them.
“What the fuck is that?” He asked the empty elevator.