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Kirisaki Shidou has a quite bad addiction, except for smoking.
Her name is Amane Momose. Prisoner number eight, unique because of her age, religious beliefs which border on obsession, and very, very hollow green eyes.
Shidou’s heart flutters whenever he sees her walking, talking, staring at him with those precious eyes.
Sometimes he feels ready to drop to his knees in front of her if she orders him to.
Sometimes Shidou finds himself thinking about more shameful things than clinging to her stomach while his damn knees are nothing but a bloody and bruised mess. Filthy. But… he cannot find any reasonable excuse for himself, not like he wants to. She’s a child. He’s a mess.
Shidou knows he should be thinking about saving Mahiru’s life, about helping anyone else in this prison. He has to. Must. But he couldn’t, not when Amane stares into his dirty soul, clearly disgusted by his craving for her.
“We will never forgive you, Shidou-san,” and she leaves him, taking with yourself a shape from his heart. The most dirty, filthy shape.
Shidou wants to prove her wrong, to show Amane that he deserves her trust, her love, her blessing. But at the same time, he knows – he got that he deserved -- her disgust, her mercilessness, her despice. And from this knowing, his stomach turned. His mind is clouded by the sight of her small frame, dull eyes, and pink, a bit plump lips which curl with scorn.
God, he wishes he could drop to one knee like a prince from the books she had never read and kiss her body until he or she or both pass out. Stomach, chest, forearms, neck – does it really matter when he would set a trail of little kisses on her petite body?
He wishes he could take her out of this hellish place, out of trials, out of verdicts, out of everything that could bother her. And give her that beautiful world that she missed when she was younger.
“Please,” he wanted to say and to throw himself to her feet and beg, beg, goddamn plead Amane to stop ripping his sinful heart apart, to stop making him feel these disgusting things he feels to her every time he lets his mind wander, “please stay, Amane, don’t forgive me but stay. Just don’t pretend I am not a perverted man who fell for a child like you!”.
But Shidou remained silent as she left. And his legs stayed surprisingly strong. His eyes darted to her walking away, clenching her pale hands in fists. God, he wants to take these little hands and tenderly squeeze them in promise of safe and gratuitous love.
His head is spinning… Amane…
Blood rushes out of his head. Lower. At the most shameful and filthy part of his body where it could be by the thought of twelve-years old girl he fell for. Pants felt tighter. He’s an adult, he shouldn’t think about her like that. He’s such a disgusting man.
He should head to his cell to relieve the stress and tense he gained from a single thought of Amane. Her face, neck, a barely developed mounds of her chest which would perfectly fit his hands.
Shidou had never seen her without prison uniform but he has a surprisingly great fantasy. He had no idea he could picture in his that clearly how soft these small mounds are, how tenderly he would knead one of them with his hand, while slightly pinching her childishly adorable pink nipple in other, making her gasp and blush, but never whine nor plead for him to continue. And that picture is so tempting… Making her feel something she haven’t ever felt before and even make her…
No.
Shidou felt a rush of bile in his throat. A sign for him to stop these inappropriate thoughts until his system would throw them up with a bile and breakfast.
He’s such a mess… perverted, filthy mess. Modern-age Humbert. But Amane isn’t his Lolita. She never will. He won’t let this happen. He doesn’t want anyone to ruin precious and smart and beautiful and perfect Amane. Even to himself.
Even if she would forgive him.
Even if she would love him back.
Even if she would ever crave him as much as he does now.
Never.
He should go. Should run. Run away from her. Away from everyone before they could notice a bulge in his pants which almost screaming with his filthiness, vile cravenness and other сharacteristics that would open his abominable side. A side that Shidou really struggle to control. A side which wants to pounce on Amane and make so, so much love with her, overwhelm her and maybe, just maybe lead her to her very first orgasm…
With these thoughts he headed himself into cell and finally got alone. He should get off before somebody needs him. Before somebody notice his sick desire.
Just jerk off, he just has to jerk off. It’s simple, isn’t it?
It is.
So, Shidou sat on the cot, pants on the floor and his cock throbbing, aching for release. Disgusting view. He closed his eyes, letting his twisted fantasy take over his common sense.
Up and down.
Amane. He saw her very clearly. Her face, her body, her hands. All of her.
Up and down.
Shidou would give everything in this world for Amane’s strokes on his hot flesh.
Up and down.
Her little hand, plumpy fingers on him, painfully slow, painfully tight. A punishment for all his sins, all his wrongdoings, all his love he wants to lay to her small feet.
Up and down.
A fantom voice in his head, an accurate imitation of Amane’s sweet voice. It or she tells him the ugly truth, ugly, even awful depth of his dreams, reason of frequented breaks in smoking room.
“You are really a filthy, godless pervert, Shidou-san.” Said the voice inside his head, no, Amane. However, she didn’t stop and kept bringing him so-damn-much needful and abominable pleasure...
“I am…” Shidou found himself responding to this voice, no, Amane, even if it’s just a voice, it’s still Amane. That’s all he could ever got. All he could ever wanted to get. “I am, Amane… please… I beg you, Amane…”
Up and…
Bam! Sudden pang of dull pain in his nape. Oh. That’s bring him to senses, that’s for sure.
Is that mean Shidou has to start over? Definitely.
Again. Over and over. Until he’s executed. Until he got the punishment he deserves.
Amane. Amane. Amane! Momose Amane. The eighth prisoner of Milgram. Green hair, green eyes. Small hand wrapped around his cock, sliding up and down on his leaking length.
“You’re so warm, Shidou-san. You want me, don’t you?” A sweet sound of her voice, filling with nonchalant.
This fantasy makes him feel sick. The way his flesh throbbed by very one image her pink virgin cunny, the way it’s leaking with unknown desire, makes it worse. The way he’s kissing her inner thigh. Higher and higher. Tenderer and tenderer. Then his lips reached her folds. Then a little nub of her clit. Oh, how much he wanted to make love to her with his tongue! Licking, sucking, enjoying the way Amane whimpering, fisting his hair, falling over the edge of her very first orgasm…
God, he can’t think about it anymore! No, no! He’s going to throw up! He should quit, as much as he should quit smoking or hurting himself or choking himself while masturbating.
But he won’t.
“Don’t you dare dying now, you coward!” She’s mad at him. Shidou mad at himself too. He can’t just die.
His palm is wrapping around his neck. His grip tightens, cutting the air for him. Just a bit. Shidou won’t suffocate himself to death, no matter how much he wanted to. He had to live. For Mahiru. For Fuuta. For Amane. He removed his hand.
He should hurry. His patients, ones who he has responsibility for, could feel worse at any moment.
“Please...” he begs, oh, God, he begs! He is close, he’s so close... But he can’t. He can’t come unless voice, no, Amane, no, Amane’s voice’d tell him so. “Amane, let me come please I want to come in your hands, I beg you…”
And so on. It has no sense to even record his useless breathless pleads for his loved one, desired one to make him feel good just for once just a bit.
Kirisaki Shidou is so weird, isn’t he?
His… her strokes on his cock send a jolt of sick pleasure through his body. Up and down, up and down… Amane. Amane, Amane, Amane, her name like a mantra, Amane, Amane, Amane!
“Just do it already.” Her voice ordered him. Of course, the real Amane would not understand what Shidou meant by “come”. She’s just a girl, after all. She’s just a little girl... God, what is he doing?
He’s jerking off, thinking exactly about this little girl, that’s what he doing.
A bile started to rice in his throat again. Slowly, but permanently.
And he did. He came. He came thinking about a twelve-years-old girl caressing him down. Isn’t that awful? Isn’t that abominable? White spills of cum on his palm. Funny. Shidou almost believed it was her palm.
But still. He’s a vile perverted man who can’t control his the most primal desires. The most carnal ones.
After all, he had his own kids! And he had never ever thought about them in that way. Never. He loved his wife and he loved his children in the most platonic way he could.
Or he had? Shidou started to doubt himself. An awful assumption formed in his mind. What if he had? What if these longing looks at the older son weren’t that fatherly he wanted them to be? What if he just tried to distract himself by having sex with his dearest wife?
No. He couldn’t ever think like that. He’s a heterosexual. Straight. He had never interested in men, let alone boys. Especially his precious boys. Shidou’s not that sick. In that situation Shidou could only comfort himself. That’s all he could do. He couldn’t deny that he finds Amane’s body – a child’s body, she’s not even a teenager – attractive. It would be stupid.
But Amane, oh, she has her own charm. Her eyes – no matter if they hollow and deep or fake and shiny – they definitely have effect on him, making him crave a real look of happiness in these big green eyes... If he only could stop these lustful thoughts about her and concentrate himself to get closer with her, to make her really happy. To see her smile. The prettiest smile in this world.
But Shidou should get up. Get up, take pants on, quickly wipe hand on the sheets and help his patients to get cure. Even if he couldn’t be cure ever again.
Lord, execute him as soon as possible.