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The second thing Satomi will miss when Kyouji dips out of his life for good will be the meals they share together. If not for the conversation, then for the freedom Satomi gets with the menu.
In spite of all his savings going towards repaying his debt towards Kyouji, Satomi doesn't feel guilty at all when it comes to racking up a restaurant bill. Partially because of Kyouji's encouragement, and mostly because Kyouji indulges like he's right up on death row.
"How's your tantanmen?"
"It's good. The walnuts are surprisingly great at providing texture."
"Texture, huh? That's always important to you, Kyouji. Meanwhile, I can smell the spices from over here."
"Ah, are you jealous, Satomi-kun?"
"No thank you. I'm happy with my mazesoba."
"Pfft. Suit yourself."
Conversation and good food. Unimportant parts of life that remind you that you're human. These meals are no different from the ones they shared in the karaoke bar all those years ago. Three years spent missing them helped Satomi appreciate them better.
...Those three years also gave Satomi a lot of time to figure out alternatives in the meantime. Alternatives that he still pursues in between jobs, taking the extra money and gifts while saving up his own earnings as much as possible.
"What're you staring at, Satomi-kun?"
"You've got some sauce on your cheeks. Also, why do you keep taking such big bites? Your cheeks look like a fish every time you chew."
"Oh? Satomi-kun?"
A voice that doesn't belong to Kyouji calls out to him. He makes the mistake of meeting the caller's gaze. Fuck. Not here. Not now.
"Satomi-kun! It is you!" The older man makes his way over, his pronounced stomach and jolly smile the last thing Satomi wants to see in this setting. "Oh, who's this?"
"...It's, um." Satomi's eyes are wide, his entire body suddenly on fire. He doesn't dare look at Kyouji, but looking at him...
"Right, right. I shouldn't have expected a kid as cute as you not to stray." The man shakes his head, but there's a telltale smile on his face. It almost puts Satomi at ease. "Well, it was nice running into you. Let me know if you're free next week over LINE."
"...W-Will do." Satomi swallows. He'd usually offer a polite goodbye, but he doesn't want to risk saying this man's name. Not in front of Kyouji.
Satomi watches the man take his seat comfortably alone. His stomach churns.
He's never let a guy take him out here for a reason. They probably don't even know he works beyond...
Beyond...
No. It's not a job, it's a hobby, and any hobby is fine if it distracts him from Kyouji.
"Satomi-kun."
Kyouji's swallowed his food, inviting Satomi out of his haze. He's forced to look at the man again, and he regrets it. He should've figured. Saying Satomi's name so seriously, it was almost like...
It's almost like he cares.
"What?" Satomi shrugs, casually going back to his meal.
"Who was that?" Kyouji raises an eyebrow.
"A friend."
He shoves a bite into his mouth, but the flavor isn't there.
"Little old to be a friend of yours, eh?" Kyouji leans back in his seat, and Satomi raises a brow.
"You're one to talk," he mutters with his mouth full. "He's a friend. Do I need to introduce you to every friend I make now?"
"He called you cute, Satomi-kun." Kyouji blinks, and Satomi looks down at his plate.
"...Uh-huh." When will this conversation end? "Because you haven't called me cute before, Kyouji-san."
"...Nah, nah. No. It was different."
"Was it, now."
"Mhm."
A silence overtakes them. Kyouji doesn't touch his meal.
God, this awkward atmosphere is killing me.
"Is there something you wanna tell me, Satomi-kun?"
Of course he doesn't. But...
How the hell else is he going to get Kyouji to drop it? What option does he have, other than...
God. I hate this. I hate this so much.
"...I'm gay," Satomi quietly admits, trying to keep his cool. "But it's nothing serious with him. Does that answer your question?"
Who is Satomi trying to reassure by saying that?
Spitting out his sexuality is answer enough. Why does Kyouji need to know that Satomi is renting out his body for just about anyone who suits his taste? He's lucky enough that guy doesn't look too close in appearance to the man sitting in front of him.
...Well, he may look close enough, given the way Kyouji's steely glare cuts right through Satomi's chest.
"Nothing serious..."
Kyouji repeats the words as Satomi buries himself in his meal that no longer tastes much of anything.
Seriously. What's wrong with him? Why did he have to go and say that?
"It's not," Satomi mumbles. "Please just forget that you ever saw him."
After a little bit, Kyouji picks up his spoon and finishes off the bottom of his tantanmen. One bite at a time, slow and small, practically picking at it.
Once Satomi's bowl is cleaned, Kyouji calls the the waiter over and pays the bill then and there. He leaves his meal unfinished.
What was supposed to be a relaxing escape from Satomi's everyday stressful life has turned into the exact opposite. A nightmare, with a frowning Kyouji following Satomi from a short distance.
"What do you want me to say?" Satomi waits until they're on a corner, waiting for the light to change before crossing. The silence up to this point has been twisting his guts up inside his lungs. "Sorry for not saying that I'm gay sooner. I didn't think it would matter all that much to you."
It shouldn't. None of this should matter to Kyouji in the slightest. Maybe it doesn't out of a general sense of overprotectiveness. Not that Kyouji's earned the right to be protective, but that would at least be an explanation.
Satomi glances over his shoulder in hopes that he's right.
"...Fuck. No. That's not..."
Kyouji's face is scrunched up into a bitter mix of anger and hurt. He reaches out to grab Satomi's shoulder, an act which he doesn't follow through, only lingering in the air as if a force-field is stopping him.
The light changes, chirping away the word "walk." Satomi quickly turns back towards the road and does just that.
He isn't alone, either. Kyouji has no right to be following him, but he is. The conversation was over the second Kyouji decided it was back at the restaurant, so why is he going out of his way to continue it? What does he want Satomi to say?
"...If that's not it, then..." Satomi bites his bottom lip. "Then what, Kyouji-san? Spit it out already."
Walking home always feels so much scarier when there's someone following you. What's worse is the silence. Anybody could suspect they're two friends walking a comfortable distance away from each other, enjoying a quiet walk, but this is anything but.
Kyouji doesn't speak until Satomi arrives at his apartment. Up the stairs and to the door. The man’s heavy footsteps follow behind.
"I don't understand."
Satomi grips the doorknob hard, not wanting to turn around to face the man when he can practically feel his breath casting over his neck.
"...I don't understand you at all, Kyouji-san."
He can't close the door behind him. Kyouji's following him inside. He shuts it himself, and locks it.
For some reason, a shudder runs down Satomi's spine.
This is fine.
Telling himself that doesn't change how sick to his stomach he is.
"You're seriously caught up on this," Satomi mumbles. "You can't handle that I didn't tell you."
"I told you already. That's not it."
"Then what is it?"
Satomi hides into himself like a turtle trying to disappear into its shell. Even in his own tiny apartment, he doesn't have a place he can hide. Kyouji's imposing presence is all he can think about, even when he can't stomach the sight of him.
"You're going out with shady guys like that," Kyouji finally admits, "and—fuck. It pisses me off."
Shady?
"Because he's older than me and thinks I'm cute," Satomi whispers back. "What makes him shadier than you?"
"Satomi."
He stares down at his futon, wanting to disappear under his sheets. Wanting to run away from the only person he deeply cares for besides the obvious in his life.
"Satomi. Look at me."
Kyouji steps closer, invading Satomi's personal space without directly touching him. His shoulders tense, hands curling into tightly wound fists at his side, but he doesn't have the strength to push the gangster away.
"...When did this start, Satomi?"
He's not even using an honorific with Satomi's name anymore. Kyouji must be truly, royally pissed. Satomi won't lift his gaze to find out.
"A year after you disappeared," Satomi states flatly. "I won't be made to feel guilty, or ashamed, or whatever it is you want me to feel for doing it, either. I just started getting offers, and I didn't turn them down. That's all there is to it."
Satomi was never hurt, never afraid, never ever put into the same danger he always felt he was in his time with Kyouji. Yet all the same, none of them could live up to that ideal Kyouji set in his mind.
None of them could be Kyouji, and Kyouji has no interest in being Satomi's.
Fuck. His knees are wobbly. Satomi bites his lower lip as he holds out for just a little longer. Soon enough, Kyouji will snap out of this overprotectiveness and leave him alone. Then, finally, Satomi will be able to curl up and die beneath his futon.
"What are you still doing here?" Satomi desperately bids, nearly raising his eyes to meet Kyouji's before darting away again. "You got your answer. You know I'm doing just fine, s-so you should just—"
Hands dart out and grab Satomi's arms. He's pushed down onto the comforter below, and before he can get his bearings, an overwhelming force pins him in place. Wrists above his head, ankles crossing over his ankles, and Kyouji's face in full view above him.
Satomi's never seen him make an expression like this before. His pupils are shrunken in, his eyebrows are raised, and his lips are curled in. He almost looks like he's scared, except...
No. His brows are unmistakably knitted together, curling down. He's not just angry. He's pissed.
Oh no. Oh fuck.
"...Fuck."
Yeah, 'fuck' is right! You're the one who pushed me down—
Satomi doesn't have a second to find his words. Even with his eyes wide open, he doesn't expect what Kyouji does next.
His lips fall onto Satomi's own in what makes for the most suffocating kiss he'll ever experience in his entire life. Kyouji is sucking the life out of him, and Satomi doesn't have the ability to push him away. The man's superior strength quells any attempt as he holds him down, forces their gazes together, and chokes him with his intruding tongue.
Satomi can't breathe. Can't think, either. Maybe if he could, he wouldn't be acting against every fantasy he's ever had. Instead, all he knows is that he wants Kyouji off of him, now. He's pissed at him, upset enough to burst into tears, and this kiss isn't going to change anything.
Those tears come anyway. Satomi is shaking, and Kyouji's food is all he can taste on his tongue. It isn't flavorless like his last few bites. He can taste every bit of Kyouji Narita, and it's a sensation so overwhelming that he struggles to even breathe through his nose.
When Kyouji pulls away, a sob breaks through before a gasp. Satomi is crying. Satomi cannot stop crying.
Kyouji couldn't look any less guilty if he tried.
"I can't fucking believe..."
Kyouji trails off, grabbing Satomi's wrists harder, harder. It feels like he could cut off his circulation without even trying.
"I can't fucking believe you've been sleeping around. Fuck, Satomi."
Maybe if Satomi could think a little clearer, he'd see the anger in Kyouji's eyes for what it was.
He's pissed at himself. He's just taking it out on the only person he can.
"What does it matter if I have...?" Satomi manages to bark out a few words, inhaling deeply afterwards as he attempts to overcome this claustrophobic sensation. "It's my life, a-and at least I'm not a Yakuza..."
So what if he's a whore? So what if Kyouji blames himself for it? It doesn't matter. Satomi doesn't rent himself out freely for cash. He does it because he likes it. Well, maybe like is too strong a word.
He sleeps around with men twice his age who bear any resemblance at all to the angry man on top of him because he wants to get away from this feeling. Getting over Kyouji is impossible, but distancing himself from the man is healthier than yearning for an ending that won't come.
His wrists are going numb from the pressure holding them down.
"Where?" Kyouji murmurs out a direct question. "Where did it happen to you?"
"Eh?" Satomi tries bringing his knees together, but even that is impossible with these restrictions on his body. "I-I got picked up by a guy around... that area in town."
He doesn't have to say the name of the street. He remembers the day well enough, anyway.
Satomi had wandered nearby once or twice a month, always hoping somehow, Kyouji would pass by the same corner as him at the same time. Rarely did he ever see any of the gang members from the karaoke bar, and whenever he did, they wouldn't acknowledge him.
One day though, instead of receiving another mean mug for his passing glances, Satomi found himself the interest of a guy who came to the street for a different reason. One thing led to the next, and...
"No, that's not what I meant." Kyouji's quiet voice slips Satomi out of his dissociating reminisce. "Where were you touched?"
Satomi's eyes widen. "Stop... Stop saying it like that," he mutters out. "Stop saying it like I didn't have any control."
"You didn't," he replies, "you were a kid."
"Old enough for you to imply I was looking for a sugar daddy."
Kyouji winces, his eye twitching. Satomi struggles further in his hold, but it isn't any use. Not even a distracted Kyouji is lenient.
"If you're not gonna give me a straight answer, I'll figure it out for myself."
Kyouji narrows his eyes, removing a hand from his trembling wrists. He uses it to push up Satomi's shirt, and then lowers it, unbuckling his belt and undoing the zipper of his pants. Everything is happening so fast that Satomi can't take advantage of it to squirm away.
Why would he want to, anyway? That nagging thought is going to eat him alive. I don't want this, he internally repeats like a mantra. I don't want a taste of what I'll never, ever have...!!!
"Kyouji—" He chokes out the other's name, cheeks burning red. Kyouji didn't waste any seconds in pulling down his underwear, too. They're dangling uncomfortably by his knees, an eerily cool chill brushing against his pale skin. "Stop, Kyouji... What are you doing?!"
"I told you," Kyouji responds. He eyes over his dick, observing it for a second too long. It twitches from the attention, and Satomi wants to crawl into a hole and die. "Those old freaks, they touched you down here."
"...And I touched them back. What the hell does it matter to you?" Satomi forces back his tears, forcing his free hand into Kyouji's hair. It's hot with sweat, and he pulls at it, to no avail. "Just because you blame yourself for something... You're just making it worse..."
"Yeah." Kyouji winces, pushing his head into Satomi's grip as he meets that distressed glare with his own. "I know. I'm ruining this for you because I'm a selfish fuck."
Kyouji palms Satomi's thigh, giving it a hard squeeze. Mixed with the flavor on his tongue, it's no wonder Satomi's body reacts without his permission. The slightest moaning whimper escapes him before he has time to stop it. He clutches his eyes shut, forcing his gaze away entirely.
Looking at Kyouji when he's like this right now is... it's bad. It's like his wet dreams have coalesced into a terrifying living nightmare.
"Satomi, look at me."
Satomi shakes his head vigorously, keeping his mouth shut. Kyouji grabs onto Satomi's chin, and pulls it forward in a motion that feels all too familiar.
"I need you to look at me while I do this, Satomi. I don't want you thinking about anyone else."
At that, Satomi's eyes fly open.
"W-What the fuck do you think you're doing?!" Satomi finally voices the question he's been dying to know this whole time. "Do you think you can ruin this for me just because it's you...?"
Satomi cries out his worst fear, plain and simple. That flavor in his mouth won't go away. It won't ever go away, he's sure. No kiss will taste like that, abrasive or gentle, it doesn't matter. So long as it's not Kyouji, Satomi is cursed, never to enjoy a kiss from anyone else ever again.
"Yeah." Kyouji answers just as simply, making sure to overshadow Satomi as he shrugs down his own pants. Satomi feels the tip of Kyouji's dick hit his thigh. "I'm ruining you like I should've done sooner."
Fuck.
"Y-You can't—but, you're..."
Satomi's mind fizzles out as it attempts to piece together Kyouji's motivations. Goosebumps line his skin, and his heart won't stop racing. Half naked and exposed in all his most vulnerable areas.
His anus reacts when Kyouji spits on his fingers.
"...N-No..."
Satomi gasps, tightening his hole, eyes wandering between them. His fingers are so big, so so big, covered in the dripping taste Satomi can't get out of his head. He doesn't know what to do, what to think—how to stop himself from reacting like he wants it, because he does, he just...
Not like this. Not with Kyouji, never with Kyouji. Never in real life, anyway, because the only kind of Kyouji who could love him is the one in his dreams.
Kyouji doesn't listen to his quiet pleas. He forces eye contact, sticks a finger inside of him, and frowns when Satomi barely reacts. His thighs are quivering, but it's obvious that he's done this before.
"I'm gonna fucking kill him," Kyouji mumbles, forcing in a second finger with no preparation. Satomi screams, and it satisfies the one dominating him. "Tell me his name."
"N-No—"
"Tell me his name and I'll stop."
A lie. A lie he isn't about to fall for.
Better to be raped than to kill an innocent man with questionable proclivities. A man he hadn't even slept with until he was a legal adult.
What the hell is Kyouji's aim?
"...Not gonna, huh?" Kyouji bites his lip. In goes a third. Satomi's never been opened this rapidly before, and never by such big fingers. His goal isn't to pleasure Satomi, it's to make a point, and Satomi doesn't understand a thing.
He shakes his head, biting down on his bottom lip to keep himself from screaming. For some reason, he's protecting Kyouji, even now. The walls are thin, so why...
God, I'm so sick in the head, aren't I? I'm getting raped by a Yakuza... By Kyouji...
God. I'm getting raped by Kyouji.
Does Kyouji know? Does he understand that what he's doing is everything I've always wanted from him?
Satomi can't decide if it's hotter one way or the other.
"...I can't believe you're so used to this."
Kyouji's voice snaps Satomi out of his thoughts. He shudders at how full he feels with just Kyouji's fingers alone. What a terrible, terrible fullness it is.
"No wonder you didn't send a single message in all that time," Kyouji mumbles, fingers curling up. "You didn't need me at all."
Satomi inhales sharply, a dagger through his lungs. His blood boils, his hand suddenly grabbing onto Kyouji's collar.
"When the hell did I ever message you first...?!" Satomi holds back just enough to turn his angry shouts into a whisper, but they don't lack intensity at all. "Y-You were the one always to come up to me and say 'let's go karaoke'!! Of course I didn't think you needed me after the contest... Why didn't you say anything to me if it bothered you so much?! I thought you were dead!!"
Satomi can't stop himself from screeching that last bit, biting his tongue after. He's a shaking, shivering mess as Kyouji's fingers get caught in his clamping asshole. He's not completely soft, but he's not getting any harder. Why are they talking about this now, anyway? This shouldn't have a damn thing to do with why Kyouji is touching him like this. So why...
"...Hard to get in contact with someone when you're in prison."
"Huh?"
Satomi's grip on Kyouji's collar slips instantly. His heart stops, eyes twin full moons. Did he hear that right?
He meets Kyouji's gaze. It's just as complicated as it's ever been, full of anger and... something else Satomi can't name.
"Why did you go to prison?" Satomi asks anyway.
Kyouji's fingers slip out of his hole. Satomi has to stop himself from asking him to put them back in. No, it's better if they stop now, right? His body won't be the same, but maybe they can fix this—
"Ghk!!"
Satomi's mind short-circuits as he feels something huge pressing into him. It shouldn't be such a foreign sensation, but given how tight he is and who it is...
"K-Kyouji...!"
Kyouji-san, Kyouji-san... Kyouji-san, fuck me already, please...!!
He'd whine into his pillow every night before bed. He wanted this more than anything. To Satomi, being dominated by Kyouji and Kyouji alone was enough. It just had to be him, the circumstances didn't matter. He thought he was dead, and Satomi was dreaming about the man fucking him raw. Just like he is now.
This isn't real. Kyouji—there's so much about the man he's learning all at once, and it hurts his head to think. What hurts worse is his unprepared hole. If he doesn't stop breathing like this, he's going to hyperventilate, and Kyouji...
He still won't stop, because he's doing this for a reason. He came back into Satomi's life for a reason, too. Satomi would kill to know what that reason was.
"W-Why..." Satomi gasps, neck craning to the side as he attempts to avoid his gaze. "Why did you go to prison? W-Why are you only telling me this now?"
"Because I might not have been, and it wouldn't have made a difference to you."
Kyouji pushes as far into Satomi as he can, stretching him past his limits, tearing him from the inside out. It hurts so much that Satomi wouldn't be able to tell if he's wounded or not. God, to think that Kyouji might be the first person to make Satomi bleed like this...
"Y-You—you would've messaged me if you wanted to see me," Satomi sputters out, tears rolling down his cheeks. He looks pathetic, so why can't Kyouji get his eyes off of him? "I-I was only ever looking for someone to replace you... You're the one who left, not me—"
"Say that again." Kyouji leans down, taking his bottom lip between his teeth and biting down. Satomi's toes curl.
"...I-I missed you," he rephrases. "Is this—what is this? Y-You're not jealous, you're not even gay..."
Kyouji pulls out of him slowly, so slowly that it burns. There's no relief when his dick is only pressed up against his hole, nor a desire for him to push it back in. Satomi is terrified.
There's just... There's no way.
Kyouji's hands are pinned around Satomi's head, burying into the futon below. His loose tie brushes up against Satomi's chest, their labored breaths in sync. Every stroke of this moment has been plucked straight out of Satomi's mind palace of twisted fantasies.
He never imagined how much it would hurt.
"I went to jail because..." Kyouji loosens his tie up some more, pulling it over his collar and head. "If I didn't, I would've made certain I was your first."
He shrugs off his jacket next, his thrusts shallow as he adjusts himself.
"Y-You're saying that... I'm the reason you went to prison?"
"No." Kyouji quickly and loudly negates him. "No, no, no."
Kyouji lowers his forehead onto Satomi's pillow next to his head, one-handedly unbuttoning his shirt.
"I went to jail because otherwise I was gonna be the freak who wanted to take a kid's virginity."
Kyouji's shirt slides off his skin, his sweaty chest coming into contact with Satomi's own as he finishes removing the last of the boy's clothes. Satomi lies limp, letting it happen.
He doesn't know what to say. Or, rather, he knows what his heart wants, but he wasn't expecting he would ever have to say it out loud.
"What are you talking about...?" Satomi shivers as Kyouji's arms pool around his waist, holding him so close with their hips locked together. "Stupid... Stupid Kyouji. So stupid, you... You can't be serious. Why would it matter if you're my first if you won't be my last...?"
Kyouji lifts his head, connecting his forehead with Satomi's. His glasses are fogged over so intensely that he can't see through the darkness. Kyouji slips them off for him, the tears prickling his eyes hot on his cold cheeks.
"Let me be your last, then." Kyouji squeezes Satomi tightly. "Let me be the last person to hold you like this. Until the day you say farewell to me for good, let me be the only one who gets to make you mine."
Satomi nods so quickly and so instantly that it pains his aching head. What hurts less, however, is the man forcing himself against his smaller body once more, entering him with a desperate sort of strength. It glides in so much easier than it did before. Satomi's stomach feels ill when he realizes why.
"...Y-You made me bleed down there," he starts, trying to catch his breath. "Instead of just—telling me you wanted me. It was easier for you to hurt me than to admit your feelings..."
"...Uh-huh." Kyouji doesn't defend himself, letting out a small sigh of relief when he feels his dick enter Satomi completely. "Yeah. You're right."
"...Stupid..."
Is he calling Kyouji that? Or himself? Just as their bodies become one, their minds do, too. Inseparable by fate itself, even with Kyouji doing everything he could to escape.
Satomi grabs the man's forearm, right over the placement of his tattoo, and squeezes.
"Do you like this?" Satomi bites his bottom lip. "The tattoo?"
"...I like your name," he admits. "I like you."
"You like me," Satomi repeats. "You like me."
"...And what does it say about you, getting caught up on the obvious when I've hurt you worse than you've ever been hurt before?"
Kyouji pulls his hips back, gently thrusting back into him. Testing the waters, watching to see exactly how Satomi's face twists, how his body squirms. How he angles his neck out for Kyouji to take a bite out of him.
"...I'm fine," Satomi breathes out, nails sinking into the flesh above his name. "I-It's all fine. You're horrible at this, but it's fine..."
It's fine, because it's Kyouji. That's what Satomi is realizing now.
Doing all of this to him, making him question if their relationship could even survive Satomi coming out.
Assaulting him, and not telling him why—fucking him hard enough to start a bleed...
It's fine.
If he was ever going to be with Kyouji, it would have to be like this, or else it wouldn't have been real. At least now Satomi knows he isn't dreaming.
Kyouji lowers his head again, his mouth brushing up against Satomi's ear before taking in the lobe. As he sucks, Satomi rolls his fingers down Kyouji's back as he arches into each and every thrust.
"...Nnngh..."
Slow but hard, fucking Satomi with intent rather than blowing his brains too quickly. Kyouji is making it last, a memory they're not allowed to forget. The tears on Satomi's cheeks are drying, and he is caught up in the present for once.
"Ha... Kyouji..."
He calls the man's name, rather than addressing him. The same as he always has when alone. Now he's not, and the difference is night and day.
Kyouji's lips slip from his earlobe and move down to Satomi's jawline, his neck, and shoulder. Kyouji takes a bite—a hard bite, one that has Satomi gritting his teeth.
"Hah!! Ahhh...~"
Satomi hates it when someone bites him during sex. Or, he usually does. Instead, he's rolling into it, shivering from the pleasure as Kyouji's hips speed up the action down below.
"You're so rough."
Satomi makes a comment he knows Kyouji will take as a complaint. It won't make a difference, he's sure.
"What can I say?" Kyouji's hands meet at at the small of Satomi's back, one palm diving further south until it's cupping the boy's ass. "Mmgh... I'm not letting you survive this encounter without any evidence that it happened."
What a terrible, monstrous, gangster-like thing for Kyouji to say. Satomi's heart is gushing worse than the walls of his colon, bleeding out for Kyouji to consume.
"Make it worse."
Satomi voices his wish without fear. Kyouji responds by stealing another kiss as he starts fucking Satomi faster and faster, stealing his breath away.
This stinging pain is proof that he's alive. Kyouji pounding into him without regard for his smaller body is proof that he's alive. This misunderstanding that led to something so much worse, yet so much more, is proof that he's alive.
He's alive, and so is Kyouji. He digs into the tattoo again, scrapes his nails against the colors across his back as well.
Everything about Kyouji is so hard, so rough, so... manly, just like his outburst. Satomi would never, nor would any guy looking for a casual quickie on the street with him. Why rape someone as plain and as willing as Satomi? It wouldn't make sense. He isn't worth the fight, but Kyouji didn't care. Kyouji couldn't stand the fact that Satomi let someone else take him before he did.
"...K-Kyouji," Satomi mumbles, staring into his eyes with madness in his own. "T-Tell me... Tell me if you would've done this when I was younger..."
"...Yeah." There's no doubt in Kyouji's mind. Satomi's neglected cock is leaking between their bodies. "I would've. I didn't know how to stop myself."
"I..." Satomi can't look at him when he speaks. Not when he's saying something so embarrassing.
"I-I wish you didn't." Another tear is rolling down his cheek. "I wish you didn't put yourself in jail. I wish you just—took responsibility for what you did to me. Even if I didn't want it..."
Because he did. He wouldn't have been able to stomach the thought, though. Kyouji is so much older than him. Not only that, but he's a man. How could Satomi ever accept an embrace like this at that impressionable age? What would Kyouji have done to get him to go along with things, just like he always did?
"...You'd make me want it," Satomi shudders, tongue mindlessly shooting up to lick Kyouji's own. He opens his eyes. "Wouldn't you?"
"...Satomi..."
He pulsates inside of him. His frown doesn't match the language of his body.
"You would've probably made me bleed," Satomi whispers, tightening around him, wincing as he does. "H-Hah... A-And it would've been fine, Kyouji, because it's you..."
Arms embrace in a coil of death as Satomi's weakened body succumbs.
"Kyouji...!"
"Satomi..."
They claim each other's mouths as their highs hit them at the same time. Satomi spills onto their stomachs as his walls fill with Kyouji's seed. The unity between them only etches this memory even deeper into Satomi's mind, inescapably perfect and expected all at once.
If ever his dreams were to come true, it would have to be like this. It would have to involve Kyouji breaking his heart just to patch it back up again. He's Kyouji's pet kintsugi project, which he'll surely shatter again and again.
Chest-to-chest, their lungs work in tandem to fill and exhale to the same rhythm. Satomi's hands lie flat atop Kyouji's back. As Kyouji attempts to rise, Satomi digs his nails in, holding him down with what little strength he has left.
Kyouji relents. He rolls them over, cradling Satomi against his side while fixing up the comforter. His dick slips out in the process. Satomi's never felt emptier in his entire life, not even in those three years without Kyouji.
"...I can't believe you really wanted me when I was fourteen."
Satomi clings to Kyouji with an arm across his chest, cheek squishing against the man's shoulder. In spite of his muscles, he's weirdly a comfortable shape to lie on.
"Never thought I'd regret being such a nice guy." Kyouji chuckles, his chest vibrations reassuring Satomi enough to coil his ankles around Kyouji's closest leg. "Guess the saying's true, then. Nice guys really do finish last."
"Stupid." Satomi sighs. "That's a good thing. What would be the point of you being my first if I couldn't have you after?"
"...You should just give me their names." Kyouji holds his arm around Satomi's waist, lowering his chin to meet Satomi's gaze. "C'mon. I won't kill 'em, but they at least need a good scare."
"Don't care." Satomi shakes his head. "I'm not letting you go ever again."
That night, Kyouji learns that when Satomi makes a promise, he always sees it through.