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Suguru was dying. He has been for a long time. Today would be his last day.
Sitting at the bar table, his phone pinged and vibrated one after another in his slack’s pocket. Suguru unlocked the phone with his thumb print. He opened the messages and glanced at the long lines of concerned messages from Shoko from his sleek black Google Pixel 9.
>> I’m worried about you, Suguru
>> When was the last time you ate something?
>> Please, try the blood from the Cake bank
>> You’ll find your cake! You’re still young
He loved Shoko, but it has been fifteen years since he’s lost his sense of taste and smell. It’s been too fucking long. Eating was a chore for him. And the Cake bank? The taste of other cake’s blood tasted like a vomited soaked rag. They were worse than tasteless and textured lumps of sustenance that he was expected to eat three times a day.
Suguru shut off his phone and waved to the bartender for another drink. Suguru couldn’t taste the alcohol, so he just ordered the highest alcohol content drink. The bartender handed him a whiskey on rocks. Suguru heard whisky was an acquired taste. It wasn’t like he would ever know. The dark amber liquid had a spherical ice dropped in the middle that Suguru supposed was a tad fancier than regular cubes. That checks out as the price of the drink was criminal. The bar was upscale. Normally, Suguru wouldn’t be caught in this sort of place, but he figured why not drain his money. It wasn’t like money would do him any good after being buried under dirt for the rest of his decaying body.
The alcohol would help. Suguru was very firm with his decision, but he knew the brain had automatic defenses to avoid killing itself. His brain being dulled with alcohol wouldn’t hurt. When he finished his second drink, there was a tipsy fuzzy feeling coursing through his alcohol-addled brain. Suguru debated having a third drink or calling it for the night and getting to his next destination: a tall building with an easy to climb over rooftop railing.
“You look like shit.”
Suguru turned towards the voice, ready with a ‘fuck off’ tongue lash, only to find a young man, barely drinking age, with eyes that were carved from the sky and seas into perfect orbs for a breath-takingly beautiful and porcelain face. His tongue failed to execute, giving the man to continue.
“Seriously, what’s up with the gaunt and haunted look? Are you cosplaying a depressed author of dystopian fiction?” the man insulted with emphatic hand movements.
Reality snapped back and Suguru rolled his eyes. The personality of this lovely twink was beyond horrible. What stranger would point out the obvious signs of fatigue and anorexia in another person? And to mock it too? The balls of this man who is probably ten years younger than him.
Suguru huffed and remarked back, “ Your personality is shit. I’m drinking here in peace, and then your bratty self came to intrude in my private time. Fuck off.”
The stranger sat beside him and rudely said, “No.”
“No?” The gall of this stranger.
“No. I will grace you with my lovely and highly demanded self for your poor tortured soul,” the stranger said with absolute glee. He grinned wide and introduced himself. “I’m Satoru. What’s your name?”
Suguru raised an unimpressed eyebrow. He debated on bailing this bar and leaving this stranger to the dust or entertaining this random experience before he offed himself. The crystalline eyes of clearest blue sparkled despite the arrogant and outrageous words. The smile was big with glossy pink lips. Satoru’s face was illuminated by soft lights in the bar meant for affluent customers. Suguru figured he could spare some time. His death was inevitable but not imminent.
“Suguru,” he said begrudgingly, watching as the other man tried to spin on the bar stool.
“Well,” Satoru said, drawing out the vowel, “what’s a good drink to have here? I recently turned twenty, so I can finally experience alcoholism, lol.”
If Suguru had to guess, whisky on ice was not a good introduction to alcohol. “Here, I can order you my drink,” Suguru offered, feeling impish and curious.
“Sure,” Satoru shrugged.
Suguru placed the order for Satoru. The mature and tall bartender gave a customer service smile. She asked Satoru for an ID. When he handed her his card, her eyes lit up.
“Could I recommend to you the Yamazaki 18 year single malt? It is known for the dark amber, red berry and oak notes.” The bartender’s smile dripped with saccharine greed. Satoru hardly took notice as he nodded to her suggestion. “Would you like to keep the tab open?”
“Why not,” Satoru shrugged. “First night of drinking. Might as well go hard.”
Suguru had minimal knowledge of alcohol, but he got the sense that the drink the bartender pushed for was very expensive. When the bartender happily slid the drink onto the bar, Satoru snatched it into his hand and took a large swig—
And did a literal spit-take. Satoru’s lips were twisted open in a downward turn. His eyes were screwed shut with furrowed eyebrows. His expression was the epitome of disgust, and Suguru felt himself chuckling, pulling a laugh that was buried deep.
“Eugh,” Satoru wiped his mouth with the drink napkin. “That was awful, foul, disgusting, and tasted like warm nail polish remover with a toxic personality. How can anyone drink this shit ?” Suguru found his lips twitching with a lingering laugh. That was quite the description. Satoru gave the older man the stink-eye. “You did this on purpose!”
Suguru let a smile etch across his face. “Guilty as charged.” Suguru held his hands up in apology.
“Might I recommend something sweeter?” the bartender asked, not even batting an eyelash at the wet bar counter. She skillfully wiped it with a cleaning solution. “A pina colada? It has rum, coconut cream, and pineapple juice.”
“Is it sweet?” Satoru asked.
“It is. I can add hibiscus syrup and cherries on top for you.”
“Perfect. I like it sweet and sugary.”
“For rum, are you alright with Bacardi 151?” the bartender smiled.
Satoru gave an okay sign. The bartender was quick on his next drink.
Suguru was invested in Satoru’s reaction for some reason so his eyes stayed on the bright eyes. Satoru noticed of course.
“Can’t take your eyes off me cause I’m sooo pretty, am I right?” Satoru teased and legit giggled to himself.
Suguru rolled his eyes, not refuting the statement though.
Satoru received his drink, and he was much more tentative in taking a sip. His face was less than pleased. He didn’t spit out his drink but let the liquid out of his mouth and back into the curvy glass.
“Bleh.” Satoru exaggerated his face and mouth. “This smelled tropical and fruity, but it still tastes awful, like nail glue mixed with sugar and pineapple juice. Gross. I officially hate alcohol.”
“You seem to know a lot about nail chemicals,” Suguru teased.
“Yeah, sometimes I go with Mama to get my nails done,” Satoru said unabashedly, flashing his baby blue nails with tiny birds; his right middle and left pointer fingers decorated with rose gold rings. For some reason, the image of the tall man getting his nails done with a mother, who probably is the split image of him, endeared Suguru. Suguru took Satoru’s hands into his warm palm to look at the details.
“Pretty,” Suguru complimented, holding onto Satoru’s hands a tad longer than intended.
“I know,” the man smirked.
“Another drink?” The bartender interrupted the moment. She picked up the discarded drink.
“Something with no alcohol, please,” Satoru asked, pulling his hands back. The bartender made a strawberry daiquiri mocktail. Satoru was more satisfied with the sugary drink. The younger man hummed in happiness, sipping through the black straw. “This is wayyy better. Tastes good.” The cerulean eyes landed on Suguru’s empty glass. “I don’t know how you think that tastes good.”
Suguru shrugged. “I can’t taste anything. If you say it’s nasty, it probably is.”
“Oh?” Satoru asked, tilting his head and leaning on his palm. “Did you get Covid recently? Or is it some other medical condition?”
Suguru laughed mirthlessly. “I wish.” Satoru looked at Suguru with such curiosity that he felt compelled to explain. “Do you know what a Fork is?”
Satoru giggled. “Of course. It’s the silver pointy things.”
“No, a Fork, like the blood dynamic.”
“Oh, yeah,” Satoru said slowly, “sorta? I mean, I learned I was a Plate when I was fifteen and never thought of it again.” The white-haired man slurped the rest of his frozen drink. “Forks are people who like cakes, right? They are attracted to them.”
“It’s not that simple.” Suguru shook his head. “Forks start losing their sense of smell and taste from a young age unless they consume cakes. And for Forks, they have one cake that can bring their senses back.”
“Wow,” Satoru said. “That sucks. Surely there must be a system to bring cakes and forks together.”
“Yeah, Cake banks,” Suguru explained. “When someone presents as a Cake, by the law, their blood goes to the bank for Forks to taste. And hopefully, the fork doesn’t have to wait too long before finding their cake.”
Satoru’s eyes roamed up and down Suguru’s body and gaunt face. “How long has it been since you…lost your senses? Been looking for your cake?”
“Years,” Suguru said, with a hollow edge. “It’s been a very long time.”
“Hmmm, that must suck for people born as Forks. It’s all cons and no pros.”
Suguru scoffed, “Yeah. I agree. Though, they say for forks, it’s worth it because cakes are the taste of ambrosia, addicting and unlike anything else. A cake is everything to a fork.” And there were some truths in those statements. Suguru would love to find his cake more than anything, but it’s a moot point now. He’ll never know. But what does it matter, when his existence is a hollow echo of life? Each day is a blur of gray, dulled by the weight of numbness that never lifts. Thoughts drift like smoke, insubstantial and ungraspable. The body—tired, brittle, barely alive—moves through a world stripped of flavor, color, and meaning. Every moment tastes of ash.
“That’s depressing.” Satoru muttered as he nudged his empty glass aside with a sigh. “Check, please. Put everything on his tab on mine,” he added, glancing up at the bartender with a half-smile.
“Hey, you don’t need to do that,” Suguru interjected, his brow creasing as he raised a hand to intervene.
“Let me,” Satoru insisted, his voice low and teasing. He gently lowered Suguru's hand with a wink and a cocky grin. "I have a stupid amount of money."
Suguru didn’t doubt it. When Satoru paid for the total, the bill was ridiculously high, and he used a black card. Suguru had never seen a black card before—only heard whispers of its existence in passing. It gleamed with an austere elegance as Satoru slid it across the bar without a second thought, like it was nothing more than a loyalty punch card.
Suguru was curious to know what Satoru wanted from him. First the man mocked him, then asked for his advice, then paid for his drink. His expression must have given himself away because Satoru asked, “Do you want to get out of here? You look like you need a fun time…or maybe a sexy time .” The younger man legit waggled his eyebrows. He stood up and pulled Suguru’s hands into his. “Come on, I’m down for either one if you want. We can go to the arcade or a love hotel.”
Suguru thought about it and decided to hold off his suicide. A stunning, beautiful man offering sex would be the last high note to his evening.
“Let’s go to a hotel,” Suguru agreed. He let himself be pulled by the stranger and led through the busy streets.
They quickly found a suitable love hotel for Satoru’s taste on Google maps. He chose a fancy and themed rooms hotel. Satoru asked him if he had a preference for the theme, and Suguru responded with nothing too wild.
“Okay, I’ll book us for the dessert themed room!” Satoru chirped as he used the service station, customizing the time and accommodations. Suguru watched as Satoru booked for a full day and added edible desserts to be in the mini fridge for later. Satoru grinned. “Anytime is a good time for sweets.”
Suguru tittered at Satoru’s obvious choice of theme to make him feel better. Nothing could be really done, but the thought was actually very sweet, a contrast to Satoru’s first impression.
The two got into the elevator and rode up to the fourth floor. Satoru skipped to the room and tapped the card on the door handle. The room was a whimsical confectionery dream brought to life. At its center stood a bed fashioned like a decadent, layered cake—each tier a different pastel shade, frosted with intricate trim and crowned with plush strawberry pillows that looked good enough to eat. Scattered around the room were oversized, hyper-realistic sweets: glossy plastic donuts with rainbow sprinkles, towering lollipops that caught the light like stained glass, and giant cookies so detailed you could almost smell the chocolate chips. Suguru was blown away by the details and decorations. He was sure this room had cost a lot to rent.
Satoru checked the waffle looking mini fridge and was pleased that different kinds of cakes and drinks were placed on the shelves. The room had its own vending machine, giving customers options for lube, condoms, and even sex toys.
“Oooh, watermelon lube,” Satoru gasped in delight. He lightly tapped his card on the money machine and got his preference of lube and condoms. Satoru carried the goods to the bed. “These alright with you?”
“It’s all for you,” Suguru said, sitting on the edge of the circle-shaped bed. “Flavored lube doesn’t matter to me.”
“That’s okay. It’s more about the sensations, right?” Satoru smiled cheekily as he sauntered over to Suguru. He climbed onto Suguru’s legs and wrapped his arms behind the older man’s neck. Satoru leaned in for a kiss, but a hand stopped his lips from reaching his target. “What?” Satoru whined.
“No kissing,” Suguru stated. “I have sharp canines.”
Satoru looked at Suguru’s elongated canines. “Dude, are you secretly a vampire?”
“No,” Suguru laughed, looking at Satoru’s comical expression. He laughed more tonight than he had in the past year. “Don’t call me dude. And I’m not. You really know nothing about forks, do you?”
Satoru pouted his glossy pink lips. “No.”
“Well, we have sharp canines to bite into our cakes,” Suguru explained.
“Why?” Satoru asked, eyes imploring.
“We forks consume our cakes’ fluids. Blood, sweat, tears, juices, and cum. It all tastes good.”
“So you’re a biter?” Satoru asked with a fruitful giggle.
Suguru shook his head. “No, I am not. Plates and other cakes’ blood don't taste good to me. I actually would rather avoid cutting into your skin. No kissing.”
Satoru moved his thumb across Suguru’s nude pink lips, raising his top lip higher to look at the canines. “Wow, they are really sharp.”
“Careful,” Suguru growled, but it was too late. The tip of the pearl tooth cut a sliver on Satoru’s thumb and a bead of blood welled up.
“Oops,” Satoru said, guilty. “Sorry!”
Suguru was about to retort angrily, his senses bracing for the acid bitterness he had come to associate with the blood of others—an instinct honed by memory and revulsion. But then, his breath caught. The moment the faintest trace touched his tongue, the blood did not erupt or overwhelm; it bloomed—slow and warm, like velvet unraveling against his palate. The taste wasn't foul. It was exquisite.
It was pure bliss .
Every atom in his body radiated with want. He dove for a kiss, surprising Satoru, and ravaged every nook and velvety insides of his mouth. Suguru was a starved man, and Satoru’s saliva was water in a drought. He licked and sucked the plumpness of Satoru’s bottom lip.
“W-wait, Suguru,” Satoru said when he got a breath, pushing a hand at Suguru’s chest. “Didn’t you say no kisses?”
Suguru’s eyes were blown to nearly black pupils. His hunger barely let him reply. “Satoru,” Suguru whispered, breathily, “I could never have enough of your kisses. You are my one and only. You are my cake .”
“But,” Satoru tried to say between Suguru’s kisses and lapping at his sensitive neck. “I’m a plate!” The intensity of Suguru’s lavishing attention and his growing hard-on made it increasingly hard to hold a conversation and be rational when all his blood turned south.
“Trust me, you’re not,” Suguru said, hands roaming under Satoru’s striped salmon Gucci shirt. Suguru sucked a bruising hickey on Satoru’s neck before biting into his collar bone. A small stream of blood trickled down, and Suguru dragged his tongue around the open wound before it could bloody his shirt. Suguru moaned at the taste of sweetness. It was unlike anything he had tasted when he still had his senses. His awareness of scent slowly returned as he mouthed at the blood. All he smelled was Satoru, Satoru, Satoru. It was everything he could ever want in this moment.
He bucked to grind his cock against the roundness of Satoru’s firm ass. Suguru was suddenly enraged by the amount of clothes they were both wearing. He made quick action of removing both their clothes. He flipped them over so he was on top. His eyes captured every detail of the younger man’s body: from his full eyelashes to his long dick, flooded pink with desire, to the matching baby blue toenails.
Satoru was more fit than Suguru, lithe with defined abdominal muscles, but yielding in all the right places—his waist cinched in with an endearing softness that made him seem almost sculpted, delicate without fragility. Suguru felt alive, driven by a slow-burning hunger to rebuild his body—layer by deliberate layer—until he could reclaim his strength, not just to match Satoru, but to eclipse him. He wanted to be able to crowd the other man fully, to envelop Satoru’s smaller, taller frame with the weight and presence of his own.
The older man wanted everything from the beauty underneath him. Suguru sucked and bit into Satoru’s chest. He licked and caressed with his tongue the pink nipples. The strong honeyed scent enticed Suguru to dip down lower to Satoru’s flushed cock.
“I need to blow you. Can I?” Suguru pleaded with desperate eyes.
Satoru nodded, “Please,” and spread his legs. Suguru got a peek of Satoru’s fluttering tight hole. He resolved to give attention to it next, but he needed Satoru to orgasm for his precious fluids. Suguru moved his tongue flat up and down the shaft, sucking on the sides. Suguru lapped at Satoru’s little penile hole before swallowing the cock whole. The older man hollowed his cheeks and felt the tip reach his throat. Suguru had no gag reflex so he greedily sucked him further.
“Oh, god,” Satoru gasped, trembling as a molten heat enveloped him, licking at his nerves of tingling goodness. “How the fuck are you a-able to, oh fuckkk , do that?”
Suguru was too busy sucking his cock to respond; his voice vibrating with a concealed moan. The taste was divine. Suguru was addicted, and he wouldn’t be sad if his only job was suck Satoru’s dick. Satoru tugged at Suguru’s inky strands in warming.
“I’m about t-t-to come,” Satoru stuttered from the pleasure. “I can’t hold it!”
It was cute how Satoru warned him to avoid having Suguru swallow bitter cum. But Suguru worked with focused determination, bobbing up and down as he licked and sucked with deliberate, unrelenting rhythm. He was desperate, his own cock weeping with want, but he knew the effort would pay off.
And it did. The moment Satoru spilled into his mouth with thick ropes of cum, Suguru was gone. His world shifted, the galaxies paused, and his senses went haywire with the taste of pure ecstasy. Suguru savored the taste of the sweetness in his mouth, fingers catching the overflowed cum on his lips and licking his digits for more.
Satoru’s eyes opened, breathing heavily, and Suguru loved his thoroughly fucked out face. The bright irises were eclipsed by dilating pupils. His face was flushed with warmth and eyes wet. The older man wanted more—he needed more and more. Like a starved beast, Suguru was dangerously close to losing himself in hunger.
“You’re so beautiful,” Suguru said in reverence. “And all mine.” He grabbed the watermelon lube and coated his fingers with the viscous liquid. “You were made for me,” Suguru growled as he gently prodded one finger into Satoru’s hole. He opened and spread the hole for his long and girthy leaky cock.
Satoru leaned in for a kiss, letting himself get used to the feeling of being prepped for penetration. “Damn, that’s real kinky of you,” Satoru said, moving to suck lightly on the shell of Suguru’s ear. “We just met, loverboy.”
“And I’m so glad we met, baby,” Suguru dropped the pet name. He bit another wound into Satoru’s neck to lap at the blood. Satoru groaned at the piercing sensation. He never liked pain, but the dual feeling of pain and pleasure was new to him. It was different from straight up pain. There was a release of serotonin and dopamine during sex that made Satoru ignore how many bruises and bite marks painted his body.
“You can put it in now,” Satoru breathed, voice thick with need, eyes glassy from the overwhelming affection poured into him. The younger man knew exactly how much he craved to be worshipped, to be praised—and right now, he was drunk on it. He was shameless for it, aching to be filled, adored, undone.
Satoru watched a little lost as Suguru’s cock kissed the tip of his entrance. The size was daunting. Suguru sank into him all at once; and the older man relished the soft, warm walls enveloping his aching dick. They both moaned from the feeling of connection. Satoru’s cock welled up with hard blood, ready for another orgasm. Suguru couldn’t wait to fill the man with his seed.
“I’m going to ruin you. No one else can have you,” Suguru promised, voice gravelly and thick. He waited two heartbeats before sliding out to the tip and plunging back into the velvety warmth. Satoru gasped at the fullness and hot length. His arms wrapped around Suguru’s neck.
“You feel so good,” Satoru said, breath heavy. The white haired man felt like he was melting from the passion and care from each thrust.
Suguru picked up the pace and bent the younger man into a deeper position. He let out groans of pleasure and lost himself in the heady scent from Satoru, the potent mix of pheromones and sex saturating the air. The pace turned brutal after hearing the dulcet moans from Satoru, who had tears leaking from his eyes. Suguru licked up the drops, precious as gold and diamonds.
“I’m going to fuck you so hard, get you pregnant, then you can never leave me,” Suguru babbled, uncaring and with conviction as if he could actually impregnate a man. Satoru had the half-mind to protest, but he was too lost in the feeling of passion and the lovely cock pressing on his prostate. All that spilled out of Satoru’s mouth were cries of pleasure and breathy whimpers.
Suguru aimed at all the right spots to hit the prostate with perfect accuracy causing Satoru’s impending orgasm. Suguru felt the quiver in Satoru’s muscles and walls contracting before the final squeeze, in which Satoru came undone beautifully in his arms. He watched as the cum erupted from that slender cock and landed on Satoru’s abs all the up to his chin. The sight and scent of the sweet cum were the final strings that snapped, and Suguru came harder than ever, coating the pink insides of the younger man.
They both basked in the orgasm. Suguru waited no time to lick up the splattered cum. Satoru’s abs tightened from the ticklish feelings.
“Wow, you really like my cum,” Satoru remarked, eyes watching Suguru consume his liquids. “Does it taste different than regular cum?”
“I wouldn’t know,” Suguru replied, pulling Satoru in his arms. “But yours tastes sweet and enticing.”
“You’re so unhinged,” Satoru giggled, remembering Suguru's words. Suguru felt warm with shame, but he refused to take back his words. Satoru snuggled into Suguru’s chest. “I guess I’m kinda into that.”
Suguru’s veins flooded with relief. He carded his hands through the fluffy white hair. He wanted Satoru to like him— love him even. The desire to have everything from the man was consuming, and though Suguru no longer felt starved, he now felt insatiable, needing this man.
“Will you go out with me?” Suguru asked, hiding his desperation.
“Hmm,” Satoru hummed in consideration. Suguru’s thoughts trickled to a dark place, on the precipice of something dangerous and possessive. His thoughts drifted to tying the man to his home and never letting him go. “Sure.”
Suguru relaxed; the dark thoughts drifting away like cigarette smoke. “Perfect, because I want to treasure you, baby.”
Satoru sat up abruptly. “If you say I’m your cake, that means your sense of taste and smell came back?” The younger man hopped off the bed to grab the strawberry cake in the fridge. Satoru took the plastic fork provided by the hotel and offered the dessert to him.
Suguru accepted the small cut of cake and bit into it. The saccharine flavor and juicy strawberries flooded his mouth. Finally being able to taste something, Suguru savored the flavor.
“It’s delicious,” he said honestly. “But you taste the best.” Suguru nibbled on Satoru’s cheek.
Satoru pushed him away, wanting to focus on eating the cake. “I can tell. I’m covered in bite marks.” And it was true. Satoru’s skin bore bite marks and hickeys like a galaxy strewn across pale heavens—vivid, deliberate stars inked in bruised reds and purples. His body, soft and milk-white, seemed almost too delicate for the passionate script written across it, each mark a whisper of teeth, a kiss of want, glowing against the canvas of his skin.
“Once you finish your cake, love,” Suguru smiled with his eyes closed, “I’m going to fuck you again and again. We have all night.”
“Oooh,” the younger man purred. “That sounds wonderful.”
“Your blood type came back, and you’re a cake.” Shoko’s drawl was factual. “Your parents and doctor have been lying for years.”
“Wow,” Satoru said in amazement. “That’s crazy.” Satoru spun around in the round wheelie chair.
Shoko was amused by Suguru’s cake. He was funny and annoying. She was glad for his existence though. The doctor was deathly scared after Suguru ghosted her. She knew that the torment of not finding his cake haunted him; the unbearable amount of pain he must have been in to be ready to take his life. He shared everything that happened the night he met Satoru: the good and bad.
“See, I told you,” Suguru said fondly, watching Satoru wheel himself around the large hospital room. The equipment in the room was advanced and could do blood work testing in minutes.
“I wonder why they lied to me?” Satoru put a finger on his chin.
If Shoko had to guess, Satoru’s parents probably lied to him because forks have been known…to be a bit obsessive and possessive of their cakes. And for a starved man such as Suguru, years of yearning and hunger carving his insides, he was bound to be even more than the average fork.
Shoko glanced at Suguru while he said, “I don’t know, baby,” with a closed eye smile and an innocuous pull on his lips. Shoko shivered as she watched Suguru wrap a tight arm around Satoru, eerily like a boa constrictor to its prey. “You’re my cake. You’re it for me, okay?”
Satoru took it as a quiet need for reassurance. He nodded and said cheerfully, “Okay, Suguru. Since you’re my fork.”
Shoko knew it wasn’t a question nor a need for placating Suguru’s worries. Suguru meant it with certainty, an absolute truth of the universe. Satoru was his cake. And Suguru was only a starved fork, unrelenting, desperate, and ravenous for every part of Satoru.