Archive of Our Own ^omega

Normally, you don’t see guys like him in a place like this.

That was Toji’s first impression of Suguru when he met him at a local kink club. Most of everyone there was around Toji’s age, mid thirties, or older, who had already found their niche in the community. Suguru, by contrast, looked fresh out of high school. His hair was perfectly styled, cascading down his back in a long, black waterfall. One lock of it was styled into a bang that partially hid his left eye from view. His features, Toji had to admit, were just as perfect. He didn’t have any particular fetishwear on either, only a simple black turtleneck and black pants, which further suggested that Toji was right.

This guy had to be new. Very new. And if there was one thing Toji knew about inexperienced young guys, it’s that they were easy money.

Toji didn’t usually go for men, though. He wasn’t picky if one came up to him. After all, plenty of queer men didn’t mind paying for a nice dinner if he blew their back out later. Even though it wasn’t quite as nice as a pussy, Toji could deal. He was flexible, and he prided himself on that. But there was something about Suguru when he saw him come through the door. Maybe it was the way his gaze lingered on Toji a little too long for it to be a passing stare. Or that even from here, Toji could see just how gorgeous his eyelashes were.

In fact, Suguru was almost too pretty to be a man. For once, Toji decided to take the initiative. He couldn’t have anyone else take this opportunity away from him.

“Hey. Over here.” Toji motioned to the chair next to his own. Suguru turned around, looking over his shoulder with a curious expression, brows furrowed and head slightly cocked. Fuck, it just made him look even younger. Toji swallowed. Better not scare him off too fast. That wouldn’t be any fun for either of them, now would it?

“Are you trying to get my attention?” Toji isn’t gay, but holy fuck, his voice. It’s deep and smooth. He sounds so innocent, so trusting.

“What does it look like? There’s no one else behind you.” Toji pats the seat beside him. For a moment, it looks like Suguru isn’t interested. They stare at one another, and there’s a brief period of awkward silence.

After letting it hang in the air for just a second too long, Suguru walks over. He sits down in the chair Toji indicated, leaning back into it almost immediately. The way he’s tilted himself lifts his sweater just the slightest amount. A sliver of his stomach is visible. Toji’s eyes immediately dart to it, lingering too long to be polite. Suguru pretends to not notice, yawning a little. He then readjusts, and his turtleneck slips back down into place again. Toji returns his gaze to his face.

“I bet they asked for your ID at the door.” Toji grins. The scar on his lip stretches wide to accommodate. It could be easy to mistake it for friendliness, if you were anyone but Suguru.

“They did, yes.” Suguru keeps his voice even, as pleasant as he can. “Are you some kind of second bouncer? Going to frisk me to make sure I wasn’t stupid enough to have both my real and my fake ID on me?”

Toji seems to think the idea is funny, if his snickering is anything to go by. “Nah. I’ve been here a while, and I haven’t seen someone as young as you show up in a long time. Usually, they get all spooked and don’t come back. Which is a shame, of course. More younger members would be better for everyone.” He leans a little closer to Suguru, looking him in the eyes. Up close, he can see that he’s wearing a little bit of makeup. It’s subtle, but elegant.

“You have a preference for younger people, don’t you?” Suguru smiles back at him. Like Toji’s, it’s easy to mistake for friendliness. The difference is that his younger features are practically begging Toji to show him the ropes. Toji can already imagine what Suguru would ask him to do. He looks like the type to cry. Big, pretty tears that would make his eyelashes clump up.

“Maybe, maybe not. You’ll have to find out.”

“I have a hunch.” Suguru reaches into the pocket of his pants. He pulls out a wallet, idly flicking through it. Clearly visible is the cash, poking teasingly out of the top. Fuck, nevermind dinner, Toji could reach over and pinch a couple thousand yen right now, and he doubted Suguru would miss it. A few seconds later, and Suguru pulls his ID out, folding his wallet in half and slipping it back into his pocket again. He presents the ID to Toji.

“Not worried I might try to take this?” Toji said, accepting it and looking it over. He was right- Suguru Geto turned 19 just a few days ago. He’s twice as old as him.

“And what, steal my identity? With that face of yours? Please.” Suguru laughs. It’s a little more meanspirited than you’d expect from a pretty boy like him. Toji isn’t one to get bothered so easily by an insult to his appearance. He has plenty of evidence to the contrary. No matter how many people make fun of him, there’ll always be someone who wants him to split them in half. For some reason, though, Suguru’s words make him feel an unpleasant little prickle down his spine. His nose wrinkles slightly.

“Watch it, baby fag.” Toji flicks the ID back at Suguru, who catches it easily and puts it back inside the wallet. He doesn’t give Toji any reaction.

“I’m not a baby. I’m perfectly legal.”

“Barely.”

“You don’t seem to have a problem with that, like I said earlier.” Suguru crosses his arms over his chest, eyeing Toji. He purposefully sits with his legs spread ever so slightly. “What are you, fifty? Forty five? I could be your son, you know. Doesn’t that make you feel the slightest bit…turned off?” He blinks a few times. The confusion in his voice is easy to fabricate. A little too easy, actually. Guys like Toji always bought into the innocence. Perhaps because they wanted to defile it later.

Toji doesn’t feel like lying or beating around the bush today. It’s true, Geto is technically young enough to be his kid, but he’s not THAT old. Some of Toji’s habits weren’t the greatest for him. Maybe that made him look a few years older. He’s not gay, but he already wants to put this boy in his place for that snarky attitude. Suguru would shut the fuck up the second he had a cock down his throat. Toji’s tested this theory before. It’s always worked out for him.

“No,” Toji states bluntly. “I don’t care how old you are. If that ID says you’re legal, and you’re not a prepubescent little shrimp, you’re old enough.”

Suguru feigns a scandalized little gasp. He lets the words hang in the air just long enough for Toji to shift in his seat. Suguru lets him wonder if he’s said the right thing. He lets him wonder if he’s taken it too far or creeped him out. The more uncertainty Toji has, the easier it’ll be.

“Oh…so you’re one of those guys.” Suguru says eventually. He fiddles with his bang, looking at Toji. “The kind that would fuck a 16 year old boy if that were the legal age. Am I right?” His tone is light, but still accusatory, in the way a parent might ask their child if they broke the vase. Suguru isn’t asking to know the answer. He just wants to see if Toji will admit to it. Right here, in the middle of the lounge.

This is getting into dangerous territory. As open and as welcoming as this kink club is, there’s some things you just don’t mention no matter where you are. Toji, thankfully, has mastered the art of keeping a straight face. He lowers his voice, the glance behind him the only indication of any unease. Suguru feels a hot flicker of enjoyment at getting him in this position.

“Depends on the 16 year old.” Toji mutters. “But I will admit, you got me. What are you going to do about it, though?” He leans forward, the action sharp. Toji’s no longer smiling. In fact, his lip twitches downwards, forming the faintest hint of a sneer. “Are you going to tell on me, baby fag? Get me kicked out? I’ve been coming here since you were in primary school. They’d never believe you over me.” His voice is a low hiss. So much for keeping his temper in check.

“Are you threatening me?” Suguru sounds a little frightened. He shifts back in his seat, shoulders hunching slightly. Between the slight waver in his voice and his smaller frame, he looks every bit his age now. The nervous bite of his lip is the icing on the cake for Toji. He’s got him trapped. Toji doesn’t give Suguru any personal space, practically climbing onto his lap to box him back against the chair.

“What if I am?” He huffs. “Something tells me little boywhores like you love it when someone stronger than them puts them in their place.”

A twinge of irritation crosses Suguru’s face. He smothers it as quickly as he can, shrinking back as far as he can in the chair. Over Toji’s shoulder, he can see a few people casting glances at them. No one intervenes. After all, everyone trusts a regular. And why would you interrupt when you don’t need to? It would only serve to kill the mood.

“I…” Suguru’s voice pitches up slightly. He looks up at Toji, eyes wide, looking every bit like a deer that wandered into a hunter’s trap.

“Go on.” Toji whispers, his voice raspy and menacing.“Tell me you like it. Tell me you know you’re all bark and no bite, you little bitch.”

“…yeah…” Suguru’s voice is barely audible. He sounds like he’s about to cry. Or like he’s about to piss himself. Both of those possibilities don’t sound all that bad to Toji. After all, he’s not in the business of cleaning up after others.

“Try again.” Toji reaches down, his hand covering Suguru’s thigh. He gives it a sharp squeeze, just to hear his breath hitch in fear.

“I…I like…” Suguru sniffs, looking at him. His eyes are wet, and his breaths are shallow. Despite the undeniable fear coming off of him, Toji’s right. He is enjoying this. At least somewhat. The bulge in his pants is evidence enough. Toji would be lying if he said he wasn’t in the same predicament.

“Say it.”

“I like how confident you are.” Suguru whispers.

Is it just Toji, or does Suguru sound a little less afraid all of a sudden? It sends that same prickle of unease down his spine from earlier. He looks back down at Suguru. Despite the wetness in his eyes and the slight trembling of his body, something’s different. Toji can’t tell what it is, and it makes him hesitate for a split second, before his eyes narrow. He can’t let this stupid little brat pull one over on him. He wasn’t born yesterday.

“That wasn’t what I asked you for. You can’t even follow basic directions, huh? Are you sure you should be here? Maybe you should go back to school.”

“I graduated a year ago.”

“They should have held you back.”

“That’s a bit rich, coming from a man that prefers fucking teenagers. You’d love to see me in school. You’d be a horrible teacher, getting hard when you walk in the boy’s change room to “remind” them class is starting soon. Would you even get any teaching done? Or would you waste all your time stroking that saggy cock of yours?” Suguru has a defiant look on his face now. Toji feels a sudden, burning, uncontrollable urge to hit him. He doesn’t contemplate it, raising his hand to give Suguru a smack across that pretty face.

Except, this time, Suguru doesn’t look scared. He looks pleased.

“Gonna get off to this too, baby fag?”

“No,” Suguru croons. “I wouldn’t hit me, if I were you.”

“I’d like to see you try and stop me, with those twiggy arms of yours.”

“I mean, go ahead. You have free will. But I have something you should listen to first. Just to make sure that you want to.”

“What I want to do is choke you on my cock until you go mute.”

Suguru clicks his tongue disapprovingly. The earlier wetness to his eyes has evaporated, along with the expression of fear. That doubles the unease Toji’s feeling. Something’s wrong here. He’s blatantly the one in control. Suguru’s the one with 250 pounds of muscle forcing him down into the chair, not the other way around. He should be shaking and on the verge of tears like he was earlier. But he’s not. Why? Toji doesn’t ask, because if this is a bluff, it would let Suguru know he’s getting to him. If he wants to play mind games, Toji’s going to flip the board altogether.

“I’m feeling nice today. Get off of me right now, and you can forget I said anything. I’ll just say our tastes didn’t…align as well as we thought they did.”

Hah. Fat chance. Toji’s about at the end of his patience. Instead of striking Suguru like he was planning, though, he spits in his face.

For a second, nothing happens. The glob slides down Suguru’s cheek, slowly, dripping onto his collar and soaking in. Neither of them breathe.

“I thought you were smarter than that.” Suguru’s voice is icy. He slowly wipes the remaining saliva off of his cheek, smearing it slowly across his skin before flicking it to the side. All the fear is gone from him. Toji doesn’t know what the fuck is happening. Something is wrong. Deeply wrong. His grip on Suguru tightens, and he gets in his face, snarling like the cornered dog he is.

“You’re full of empty threats, baby fag. You’re the one who’s trapped here. Not me.” Toji’s voice is barely audible. He gets right next to Suguru’s ear, tempted to sink his teeth into the cartilage and tear a chunk off to put him in his place again. Those piercings would be easy targets, after all.

“Are you sure that’s true? Look at how threatening you’re being. You’re sitting on some poor little 19 year old, pushing him around. It’s just not fair.”

Toji feels a little flustered. He can’t let this little prick get the upper hand. He just can’t. There’s a desperation to his demeanour now, one that Suguru picks up on easily. He’s got him. The satisfaction sends a shiver down his whole body. This is one of the best parts.

“Shut the fuck up.”

“You’re not being all that convincing.” Suguru’s tone is mocking. His hand dips lower, reaching into the pocket of his pants. Toji’s eyes flick downward. He’s been in enough scuffles to know that there’s a high chance of that being either a knife or a gun. He isn’t keen on dealing with either, so he snatches the boy’s wrist, squeezing it tightly enough that he feels the bones creak.

A twinge of pain flickers across Suguru’s face. He masks it quickly, looking back at Toji. Whatever he was pulling out is clutched tightly in his hand. Probably not a gun, then, because Toji would see some of it. Maybe a switchblade? He doesn’t bother asking, and instead pries Suguru’s fingers open.

Hold on. Why was he taking out his phone? That couldn’t possibly get him out of this.

Unless…

“Come on, old-timer. Use that brain of yours. I’m sure you can connect that dots.” To aggravate him further, Suguru smiles at him. It’s one of those brittle smiles, where it seems genuine until you’re up close and personal. Toji’s face feels hot. His nerves bubble and twist uncomfortably beneath his skin, and he has to grit his teeth to keep his voice the same level of hostility.

“Why don’t you tell me, since you’re so smart?” Toji practically spits the last word out.

“Gladly.” Suguru plucks his phone out of Toji’s hand. He unlocks it, scrolling for something. Toji’s going to cave his skull in behind the club if this is his idea of a joke.

Perhaps, even worse, it was not a joke. Seconds later, he hears his threats repeated back at him. He hears Suguru’s scared little voice. He could lie and say it was all part of a scene, but they didn’t negotiate anything. And even with his status as a regular, Toji knows damn well they’d believe this hard evidence over his own word.

Toji swallows. For the first time in a long time, he feels…

Afraid.

Genuinely afraid.

But Suguru doesn’t stop there. He nearly moans at the expression of discomfort mixed with unease on Toji’s face. He’s caught him. Both of them know that. Suguru just can’t resist twisting the knife a little deeper. He navigates through the recording, to the part near the beginning. The audio is quieter, less menacing, but it’s almost worse. This would get him thrown out for sure, no questions.

Depends on the 16 year old, Toji had said. All the blood drains from his face. His teeth remain grit, but they’re so plainly bared for show rather than anything else. Suguru has got him pinned, and he’s not even the one with his back in the chair.

“What do you want from me?” Toji mutters, glancing paranoid over his shoulder towards the security near the door.

“That depends on what you’re willing to give me. If you don’t have anything worth my while, I might as well turn this in.” Suguru tucks the phone back into his pocket, looking up at Toji. “Can’t have you forcing another helpless youth into giving you what you want. That would be negligent of me, don’t you think?”

What can Toji give him? Suguru is clearly no stranger to wealth. Toji’s fluctuates based on the week, and it’s in a big dry spot at the moment. Whatever cash he has on hand wouldn’t be close to a bribe. And if Suguru is smart, which Toji acknowledges reluctantly, he is, he’d keep coming back for more. Toji has no stable flow of cash.

“…all I got is myself.”

Suguru’s grin widens. “Good, I was hoping you’d say that. But first…I should lay out a few expectations for you. I can’t have you acting out. It wouldn’t be safe for anyone.” Suguru seems to be relishing this moment. Toji already feels a little sick to his stomach. Just what the hell is this guy going to make him do?

“Three main rules. One, you listen to me completely. You do as I say, when I say it, and a I’m sure you can guess the consequence.”

A piece of Toji’s soul wilts. Suguru sounds like his uncle. Toji feels like he’s seventeen again, back on that short leash and being choked out like a dog.

But in a way, the obedience is easy to return to. So he nods. Suguru looks pleased by his agreement, and continues: “You will not speak to me unless I speak to you. And you will not speak to anyone else unless I give you permission. And I will give it to you like this.” Suguru reaches around behind Toji, feeling up the muscles of his back. His hand slips lower, lower, until it settles on his ass, giving it a firm squeeze.

“Speak.”

Toji hates the way he grasps the concept instantly. “Understood.”

“Oh, you’re so obedient already…” Suguru’s voice is breathy, filled with barely restrained lust. “Third rule.”

What is there left to cover?

“You wear a blindfold as soon as we leave this building.” Suguru reaches into his pocket, pulling out a strip of sleek, black fabric. Toji isn’t a stranger to these, but almost every time, he’s not the one wearing it. You could get him to if you paid him enough money. Generally, he preferred to see what he was doing. And Suguru isn’t someone he wants to take his eyes off for even a second. If he’s pulled this off, who knows what else he’d got in store. Toji would rather comply, as sickening as the feeling is. It’ll make it go quicker. Even if Suguru keeps him a few nights, a week, even, doing nothing but using him, Toji knows he’ll get bored sooner or later. Then he can leave.

All he has to do is grit his teeth and take it.

“Fine,” Toji grunts. He sounds less than pleased.

Suguru is just the opposite. “Hold still.” He reaches his hands forwards. His delicate, slim-fingered hands. This asshole kid has probably never worked a hard day in his life. Toji has a feeling everything falls into his lap. He’s almost glad his eyes are covered with black fabric a moment later. It hides the way his brows furrow in bitter jealousy and discomfort. Suguru ties it around the back of his head with a bow. He’s clearly done this a few times.

“Now, let’s test…” Suguru murmurs to himself. He reaches out again, pressing his hands firmly against Toji’s chest. Not enough to move him. Not nearly enough. “Get off me.” Suguru says it in that light, but commanding tone of his. Toji has heard it many times out of other people’s mouths. If you’re inexperienced, it sounds pleasant and polite. A genuine request. Toji knows its true meaning: “Do what I want before I hurt you.”

And so, obediently, Toji moves. He gets off of Suguru, slowly and hesitantly, feeling behind him to make sure he doesn’t stumble over anything. He hears Suguru let out a pleased sounding chuckle nearby. The sound makes the knot in his stomach twist a little deeper.

“Oh, I’m going to have so much fun with you.” A hand grabs Toji’s wrist. He feels himself being tugged, and he follows, matching Suguru’s pace. The people around the door cluck and titter about him. Toji doesn’t bother to answer. He wouldn’t, even if he wasn’t being dragged out of here against his will.

Suguru doesn’t speak to him again for a few more minutes. Toji feels hyperaware of his surroundings in a way he’s never been before. Normally, the streets of Tokyo are background noise. A neverending buzz of shit he didn’t need to pay attention to. He had eyes. But now, there’s nothing short of Suguru’s goodwill stopping him from running into people, or getting hit by a car. It’s a new kind of vulnerability. Toji knows Suguru wouldn’t do anything like that, because he’s the type to dissect and play before he lands any “killing blow.” But it doesn’t make it any less unnerving.

He leads Toji down several streets, crossing numerous major roads. Toji loses track of time. He tries to count his footsteps, but inevitably gets distracted by the honking of cars or the yelling of passersby on the sidewalk when he brushes by them a little too quickly. He tries to count the turns, and gives up when Suguru leads him down what seems to be an endless amount of little side streets. They don’t get into any cars. Toji can’t yet tell if that’s a good or a bad sign.

“We’re here.” Hands reach up to his face. They delicately untie the blindfold, and Toji opens his eyes, blinking and squinting. They’re in a hotel lobby of some kind. Neither nice nor run down. A few people are milling about, most of them being couples. The air smells faintly of cheap perfume. Whether from a patron, staff member, or the carpet, Toji doesn’t know. He doesn’t care to find out, either.

The knowledge that Suguru probably booked a room ahead of time makes him feel sicker.

“Come on.” He’s being dragged again. Something about being nearly twice Suguru’s size and yet being pushed around by him makes it so much worse. They step into an elevator. No one else joins them, and Suguru presses the button for the fifth floor. The elevator hums silently. Toji doesn’t move a muscle until the door opens, letting Suguru lead him down the carpeted hallway towards the room.

“Here’s where you’ll be staying.” Suguru doesn’t specify the amount of time. Toji watches him pull a key out of his pocket, sticking it into the lock and turning it. “If you behave, I’ll let you order some room service. My treat.”

At least he’ll get fed. Toji steps into the room. It’s small, clearly intended for a couple. A bathroom is on the right side, with the bed in the middle of the room. Everything smells faintly of clean linens. Suguru’s bag is set next to the bed, a backpack with numerous pins on it. Toji’s too far away to read most of the text on them, but he wouldn’t be surprised if it were vulgar. Nothing has been unpacked. Toji opens his mouth to ask what he’s supposed to do, and then closes it again.

It would be easy to make a mistake. After all, it’s hard to stop talking when you’re used to having free speech.

But Toji has only just gotten used to that privilege. As much as he likes to use it. He falls back into being silent and waiting all too easily.

“Sit down.” Suguru gestures to the bed. Toji walks over, slowly, before slumping into it, lying down on his back and sighing.

“I said sit, not slouch.” That’s all the warning Toji gets before Suguru’s fingers thread into his hair, pulling him up sharply. Toji hisses through his teeth, wincing at the sudden sting. Suguru only loosens his grip when he’s sitting at attention, shoulders squared and spine straight, looking right at him. Silence, for a few uncomfortable seconds. Suguru slowly threads his fingers out of Toji’s hair, smoothing it back into place with a mockingly gentle caress. “Much better. Now, don’t move.”

He moves off to the side, beginning to rummage through his bag. Toji glances down. It’s all clothes, most of which are in varying shades of black. It makes it hard to tell which is which. Suguru digs into the very bottom of the bag, pulling out a black, pleated skirt, along with what seems to be fishnet stockings, and…a bralette? Toji can’t hide his surprise. He opens his mouth again, before closing it. He wants to ask if Suguru plans on dressing up like a girl. It’s rarer to come across, but Toji would be lying if he said he was against the idea. Someone as delicate and pretty as Suguru would really have been better off on a skirt.

“Take off your shirt.”

Toji blinks. That was quick. He doesn’t protest, though, lifting up the edge of his compression shirt and peeling it off. The physique beneath is undeniably solid, conditioned through years and years of physical labour. A few scars cross it, faint and undeniable. Suguru seems to barely see them, and instead stands above him, reaching a hand out to grab a handful of Toji’s pectoral. His lip twitches in annoyance. Suguru completely disregards the reaction, and instead rolls one of his nipples between his fingers.

“You do have nice tits, I’ll give you that much.”

Toji bristles, and before he can stop himself, he snaps: “They’re not tits, baby fag. Ever seen a real man before? Or have you only jerked off to prints?”

That earns him a sharp slap across the face.

“I’d hardly call you a real man. Look at these.” Suguru squeezes Toji’s left pectoral harshly, digging the nail of his thumb into the nipple. Toji groans lowly, his nose wrinkling in displeasure. His face is flushed in equal parts fury and embarrassment. This time, he says nothing, and merely glares up at Suguru.

“You should wear something with more support.” And with that, Suguru grabs that little black bralette that Toji saw earlier.

He can’t be serious. Right?

Suguru thoroughly enjoys the indignation. He unclips the bralette, reaching around behind Toji. With one hand, he tucks each pectoral behind the fabric. Suguru than pulls back on it, struggling to do the clasps back up again. It was clearly not designed for someone with shoulders as broad as Toji. The straps dig into his skin wherever they touch, pinching and pulling uncomfortably. It’s worst just under his pectorals, where the bottom part shifts and rubs against his skin if he moves so much of an inch. Not to mention the fact that it’s not the right cup size. Not even close. It barely covers half of Toji’s chest, leaving the other part of the muscle to be pressed out of the side.

Toji looks at him with a scowl on his face. Suguru meets it with a predatory smile, baring his teeth. Daring Toji to say something about it and rise to the challenge. It’s tempting to take the bait. So very tempting. Suguru would be easy to overwhelm here. He’s still just a boy in Toji’s eyes, if a clever one. They’re alone now. He briefly imagines what it would be like to knock him to the ground, twist his arms behind his back, and make him squeal.

Toji doesn’t. He can’t risk what he said getting out.

“Have you ever put a girl’s lipstick on?” Suguru’s hands disappear into his bag again, searching. “It’s a very intimate experience. She has to stay perfectly still, between your hands, if she doesn’t want it to smudge.” He brings out a smaller bag. This one is glossy, shiny, with a heart shaped zipper. It looks like something straight out of a teenage girl movie. Toji stifles a snicker. It earns him a sharp pinch to his thigh, the pain making his lip twitch. An uncomfortable warmth settles in his chest.

Suguru doesn’t wait for an answer. He climbs up on the bed, setting the small bag off to the side. This time, it’s him in Toji’s lap. “Lie down.” His fingers sneak under one of the straps of the bralette, fiddling with it, before letting go. It snaps against Toji’s skin audibly.

Toji just stares at him incredulously. Some fuckin’ nerve.

“Now.” Suguru’s voice is suddenly firm. Toji obliges, bare back against the sheets. Suguru reaches for the bag, unzipping it. From this angle, Toji can’t see what’s inside. He can take a guess, though, and to say he’s less than thrilled would be an understatement. No one’s ever wanted to see him dressed up pretty. In his opinion, it was one of the most degrading things you could do.

He briefly thinks that this is what it’s like to be a Zen’in woman. Nothing but breeding stock.

“If you move an inch, you’ll be wearing a whole lot more than lipstick.” Suguru pops the cap off. It’s dark red, partially crushed and smeared. Whoever put this on last certainly didn’t bother taking care of their products. He makes a show out of rolling it between his fingers, extending the tip of it. Suguru gingerly separates a chunk of the pigment with his fingernail, before reaching down. It hovers just above Toji’s expression of contempt.

“I’d say black would be more your colour…shame I didn’t bring any. I’ll have to make do.” Suguru presses his finger down, smearing the dark red pigment along Toji’s bottom lip. He repeats the action, gradually filling in the colour along his skin. It’s easier to do this way. Gives him more control, and keeps the lining cleaner. “Smile for me.” Suguru’s unstained hand grips Toji’s chin, squeezing it. Reluctantly, Toji pulls his lips back to expose his teeth. It’s more of a snarl, but Suguru seems satisfied, tracing over the spots he missed and filling out Toji’s upper lip with careful, featherlight touches.

Toji, meanwhile, can barely force himself into staying still. His whole body is tense, practically shaking with the urge to throw Suguru off. His finger is right there, Toji’s mind whispers. Bite it off. Teach him a lesson in letting his guard down. But he doesn’t. He can’t. No matter how much he wants to, the consequences in the long term will be so, so much worse than whatever humiliation Suguru is planning on putting him through right now.

“Perfect.” Suguru pulls his stained finger back to admire his handiwork. He pops the cap back on the lipstick. Despite having done it without an applicator of some kind, the deep red tint follows the outline of Toji’s lips perfectly, making them stand out vividly against the rest of his skin. Suguru reaches into the makeup bag, pulling out a small mirror. He holds it in front of Toji.

“Look.”

Reluctantly, Toji looks. The second he does, he’s met with his own gaze, and the redness of the lipstick sends a deep ripple of discomfort through him. It feels wrong to look like this. Men don’t wear lipstick. At least, men like him. The only men he’s seen in makeup wore skirts, stockings, and other girly things. Sure, he’s wearing that stupid bralette, but that’s only because Suguru put it on him. Not because he wanted to. And definitely not because he liked it.

“See? You’re pretty when you shut up and sit there.” Suguru snaps the mirror closed. To Toji’s chagrin, he doesn’t get off of him. Instead, he reaches into the makeup bag again, taking out a brush and some kind of case. Suguru pops it open, swishing the brush around in it. When he lifts it again, it’s covered in dark, glittering eyeshadow. “Close your eyes.”

Toji closes his eyes. He anticipates being struck on top of the head. Whether it be a shoe or a fist- both would be familiar enough to latch onto. He’s not that lucky, though. Suguru brushes over his eyelids, almost maddeningly slow. It makes Toji’s brows twitch and his eyes water. Toji can’t imagine willingly putting something like this on every morning. Perhaps that was another reason why Zen’in women looked so miserable all the time.

“So sensitive…” Suguru mutters. His other hand reaches down to poke just above Toji’s eyelid, pulling on the flesh of his brow to straighten the skin out. Toji wants to snap back that he’s not sensitive. Every human being is sensitive when you’re practically jabbing them in the eyes with a paintbrush. Instead, he just grits his teeth, and grunts under his breath:

“What the hell is your proble-“ Suguru cuts him off with a sharp pinch to his eyelid. Toji gasps a little, fingers tightening in the blanket off to the side.

“Having trouble remembering the second rule? Do I need to make it more clear to you who’s in charge here?”

Toji goes still. Tense, but still. He doesn’t look up at Suguru.

“Good dog.” Suguru coos, scratching lightly under Toji’s chin. The muscles in his neck spasm at the contact. After letting his finger linger a moment too long, Suguru pulls them away, going back to working on the eyeshadow.

He’d save the complicated styles for the people he actually wanted to spend more time with. Toji would do just fine with a simple dark eyeshadow. When combined with the red lipstick and the bralette, it makes him look younger, in a way. The lines etched into his face and the faint scarring on his torso is still there, undeniably so, but they seem more distant. The makeup on Toji’s face is a focal point, drawing all of Suguru’s attention without fail. Everything else fades into the backdrop.

Suguru finally pulls the brush away. He tucks it back into the case. “Open your eyes. I’m not done with you yet.”

Of course not. Toji sighs almost imperceptibly, and in response, Suguru reaches down to flick his nipple through the lacy fabric. To his embarrassment, Toji groans a little.

“Whore.” Suguru says without hesitation. “At least try not to get off to this. What, do you actually like putting on girly clothes and letting me do your makeup?” He pulls out a tube of mascara from the bag. Of course, as someone who’s worn some himself, Suguru knows you should never share a tube or use it on multiple people. Toji, though? Someone like him doesn’t deserve that simple kindness.

Toji has no response or reaction to his accusation. Which is quite the shame.

“Don’t close your eyes.” He leans down, the two of them now chest to chest. Suguru places one hand on Toji’s opposite shoulder, squeezing firmly to keep himself steady. Slowly, he drags the mascara brush over his eyelashes. Toji already had ones that Suguru begrudgingly considered pretty. With the makeup, it’s even better. They’re long, dark, and have a pleasing curve to them. “You know, a lot of women would be jealous of eyelashes like these.” Suguru moves to his other eye, ignoring the way it twitches in irritation.

Toji feels like he’s going insane. Each brush over his eyelashes is enough to feel, but too delicate to be anything short of ticklish. His arm spasms every now and then, reaching up out of instinct to swat the mascara away, but Suguru is always watching out of the corner of his eye. He catches Toji’s wrist each time it begins to rise, pressing firmly down to return it to the mattress. Suguru doesn’t have the raw strength to do it. He couldn’t force Toji to do anything. Toji is choosing this. He’s choosing the lesser of two evils. To lie down and bear it now rather than put off pain for later.

Despite how much he’s grown since, Toji would always take a beating today over a worse one tomorrow.

“Done. Look, you’re pretty now.” Suguru holds the mirror in front of his face again. Toji can see him smiling, only partially obscured by the reflection of his own face.

It’s…

Unrecognizable. Familiar. Horrible. Beautiful. Different. The same as it ever was. He doesn’t know how to feel. But he does.

Toji Fushiguro is not gay. He’s not even the slightest bit effeminate. He swore to never touch so much as a single girly thing ever since his uncle caught him investigating one of his younger cousin’s kimonos when he was 8. It’s hard to forget what the punishment felt like. The utter humiliation as he was paraded around in girl’s clothes for a week, addressed solely as a maid. Why would he ever want to be a woman, if all they were good for was this? A man’s pleasure? Suguru’s smile made him sick to his stomach. Toji couldn’t stand to look at himself like this so much as a second longer. He drops his gaze to the side, silently hoping that Suguru would grant him just a little grace.

But Suguru Geto doesn’t get his pleasure from kindness.

“That’s hardly a glance. I told you to look.” He grabs Toji’s hair, tugging on it sharply and rotating his neck to face the mirror. He shudders, still keeping his eyes averted. No matter how much Suguru pulls and twists.

New plan. Suguru reaches into the pocket he keeps his cigarettes in, and pulls out a lighter. He flicks the cap open, still smiling as he looks at Toji.

“Look.”

Toji hesitates, his gaze flicking to the lighter. Suguru sparks it, holding the flame close enough to his cheek that it singes some of the hair. Toji looks back at himself in the mirror. At least the reflection of the fire looks kind of cool. How long is he supposed to do this for? Suguru can’t possibly hold this position forever. He’s hunched over awkwardly in order to hold both the mirror and lighter at the proper angle.

It’s not him looking back at him. It can’t be. Toji doesn’t look like that. He doesn’t dress like that. He’s not a woman. Never has been one. And you couldn’t make him into one, no matter how hard you tried.

Toji reaches a hand out to Suguru, slowly. He taps his wrist, than gestures to his own mouth.

“Do you have something to say to me?”

He nods.

“Too bad,” Suguru tilts his wrist, pressing the flame of the lighter even closer to Toji. “I don’t want to hear it.” The fire brushes against his skin, and Toji thrashes, flailing his arms, operating on instinct alone. Suguru drops the mirror off to the side, just barely managing to keep a grip on Toji as he flicks the lighter closed. Toji tries to buck him off. Suguru, with both his hands free now, reaches down, latching onto Toji like a parasite. He digs his nails in deep to his sides, enough to leave indents and draw small pinpricks of blood. His legs hook around his waist, anchoring them together. Even when Toji sits up straight, trying to peel him off, he doesn’t relent.

Suguru is far,

far

stronger than he looks.

Frustrated, Toji stops. The pain is gone, anyways, besides a dull throb of heat on his cheek. He’s sure it’ll blister later.

“What the hell was that, baby fag?” He grabs the base of Suguru’s ponytail, jerking his head out of the crook of his shoulder. They’re nose to nose again- Toji panting heavily like an animal, Suguru calm and composed despite the brief altercation. It’s infuriating.

“You know your place.” His voice is colder this time. “Don’t you? You’re not stupid.”

Toji isn’t stupid. But that doesn’t mean he wants this to be true. Any of it. He stares at Suguru for a few seconds, teeth uselessly bared behind the lipstick.

“…”

“Aww, are you going to cry?” Suguru laughs, his lips curled in a mocking pout. “Don’t. It’ll ruin your makeup. Now, I’m going to ask you if you remember the first rule. I’m only asking once.”

Begrudgingly, hatefully, Toji nods.

“Good.” Suguru unwinds himself from Toji, crawling off of the bed entirely. He grabs the fishnet stockings and pleated skirt from earlier. Small. He glances at Toji’s legs. They should still fit, though. “Take off your pants.”

Toji’s nose wrinkles in disgust. He complies without a word this time, slowly sliding them off of his hips. His legs are just as solid as his torso, well conditioned and covered with a thin coat of dark hairs. Suguru tosses the fishnets and the skirt at him. Bewildered, Toji catches them both. He has a feeling what’s going to happen next. Of course Suguru wouldn’t be satisfied by what he’s done already. He has to go even further.

“Hold those for a moment. I have a present for you.” Suguru grabs his bag off of the floor, reaching into the bottom of it. He pulls out a pair of panties, clearly meant for someone much smaller than Toji.

“Now, put these on.” He flicks them at Toji’s face. Huffing quietly, Toji sets the other clothes on the bed. Suguru’s watching him intently, looking up and down his body as though he were nothing more than an interesting bug on the bottom of his shoe. It makes his skin crawl. Normally, Toji doesn’t give a shit about modesty or politeness. He mostly wears clothes for his own comfort, not for anyone else. He knows he looks good without them.

But this stupid, good for nothing boy is making him feel things he hasn’t felt in decades.

“What’s wrong? Are you shy?” Suguru tilts his head. He takes a step closer to Toji. “You don’t need me to do it for you, surely?”

Toji doesn’t respond. He hooks his thumbs into the band of his boxers, and pauses again. Maybe it’s the makeup. Toji knows he looks ridiculous right now, and he’ll only look worse once the other clothes are on.

“Take it off, pussy.”

That gets Toji to move. He flicks his boxers down in one motion, discarding them on the floor with his pants. He can feel his face heating up as he reaches for the panties Suguru gave him. They’re small and black, made of silk, or some other expensive fabric. They’d be comfortable, if not for the size. Just looking at them, Toji knows that they’ll practically crush his dick.

“Hm. Smaller than I thought.” Suguru steps into Toji’s personal space. He palms at his soft cock like it’s an oddity. Toji resists the urge to turn away from him. He stays still, near petrified, as Suguru feels him up. It isn’t pleasurable. Despite his dainty hands almost resembling a woman’s, Suguru doesn’t touch him like one. He touches him like a specimen, like a cut of meat at the butcher’s. Even when he brushes his thumb over the fat head of Toji’s cock, the only thing he feels is disgust.

Suguru withdraws his hand. “Get dressed.” It’s impossible to miss the outline of Suguru’s dick through his pants. He’s clearly getting off to how uncomfortable he’s made Toji. It makes him scowl. Toji steps into the panties, pulling them up slowly. The fabric bunches and rolls numerous times, and he has to control himself in order to not rip them clean off. When they finally get dragged up to his pelvis, they barely cover his cock. The bulge in them somehow feels more obscene than being naked. Next are the fishnets. Toji’s never seen someone else put them on, and it takes him thirty seconds or so to orient them correctly. Suguru’s faint laughter in the background makes his cheeks burn hotter. They reach his mid thigh, the fabric stretching to accommodate and digging into his muscles.

He can scarcely look down at himself. And he’s not even done.

Slowly, Toji steps into the skirt. It would be decent on the girl it was designed for, but in him, it rides up too far. As it is now, it just barely reaches the upper quarter of his thigh. If he bends at all, his ass will be completely visible. Not to mention the fact that the skirt doesn’t do much else to hide the bulge.

“Perfect.” Suguru sounds like he’s on the verge of passing out. He grabs Toji’s shoulders firmly, marching him into the bathroom. The mirror in here is large enough to see everything. Somehow, seeing it all together makes him feel an even sharper twinge of humiliation. Toji thought he managed to kill this a long time ago- the shame. The horrible, awful shame that made you want to curl up like a small animal and drop off the face of the earth. He nearly throws up in the sink- brow sweaty and expression one of utter and undeniable misery.

And yet, this was the best choice. It had to have been, surely. There was no better way out.

Toji’s hands grip the polished countertop so hard his knuckles whiten. Suguru remains behind him, smiling. He leans forwards. Toji can feel Suguru’s cock press against the back of the skirt. It feels wrong. Incredibly wrong. His chest tightens, and he looks at Suguru in the mirror. He looks far too pleasant for someone who’s forcing Toji to do all this.

“Mm, is something wrong?” Suguru sounds like he’s concerned. Toji doesn’t let himself fall for it. “These do look a little tight on you.” Suguru reaches down, tucking his thumb into the taut band of the skirt. He pulls it out just a little more, before letting it snap back against Toji’s abdomen.

Toji, is once again, beside himself with rage. He doesn’t fall for the trap this time. He doesn’t open his mouth to speak so much as a single word. He only meets his own gaze in the mirror, cheeks red and face set in an expression of contempt. Suguru’s finger traces along the outline of his skirt, just barely dipping below it a few times. It makes the muscles in Toji’s abdomen twitch- his hands are cold. When Suguru withdraws them, he has a different look in his eyes. One far more…excited.

“Such a good girl.” It’s spoken exactly how you’d address a dog that earned a treat. Suguru grabs a hold of Toji’s wrist, leading him out of the bathroom. He feels a bit of relief, however faint. At least he doesn’t have to look at himself anymore. That wretched, warped version, that he would have preferred to leave cold and dead in the ground. Toji follows him out into the main area of the hotel room. They stop just in front of the bed.

A hand reaches around the back of his neck. Toji’s arm instinctually shoots up to grab it, but at Suguru’s warning hum, he forces himself to relax. Suguru’s fingers tighten. Not enough to choke, or even suppress his ability to breathe, but enough to be alarming. Toji has personal experience with how quickly a gentle hand on the neck can turn into your windpipe getting mercilessly crushed.

“Get down.”

Begrudgingly, Toji kneels. He slowly sinks down, Suguru’s hand following him all the way. When he stops, he’s chin level with the bed. Staring into the sheets. If he moves any closer, his lipstick might smudge, and he’s sure Suguru wouldn’t like that. Men like him prefer their girls all the cleaner, so they can have fun breaking them in. Men like Suguru. Men like his uncle. Even boys like his little cousin Naoya, who were just starting to learn that there were no consequences to hurting a girl.

Toji looks into Suguru’s eyes. For someone this young, they’re oddly cold. The only thing giving them a semblance of life is the pure and utter hunger in them. Toji swears he can glimpse his reflection, for just a moment.

The hand on his neck forces his face down into the sheets.

Lightly. Not enough to smudge the makeup just yet. But it’s enough that on each inhale, Toji tastes his own breath. Any further, and he’d be slowly suffocated. It’s an uncomfortable feeling regardless. He technically has enough air, but it’s fetid, practically rotting after just a few exhales.

“Stay right there. I’m going to go to the bathroom before we start.”

Toji fully expects to hear footsteps retreating from the bed. Instead, he hears the unmistakable sound of pants being shuffled off. For a minute, it doesn’t quite click. Does Suguru seriously plan on stripping first, and then going to the bathroom? Or walking in there with his pants around his ankles, for some godforsaken reason. The mental imagery nearly makes him laugh.

And then, something warm splashes against his back.

Toji recognizes it for what it is immediately. His lip curls, the muscles in his torso completely taut as the piss soaks into what little clothes he has left on him. Of all the things he’s endured before, this is probably the least expected. Sure, he’s no idiot. People are into piss. People are into degradation. He’d played around with it a few times before, usually when girls with a particular interest in it paid him real nice, but he’d never been on the receiving end. For good reason. There were some things Toji’s ego just couldn’t handle. This was one of them.

The thirty seconds Suguru spends there feel agonizing. Toji’s almost glad all he can smell is his own breath and the waxy, clean scent of the lipstick, or he’s sure he wouldn’t be able to stop himself from breaking a rule. His whole body shakes with the urge to control himself. Especially when Suguru leans over him and gets it in his hair- on purpose. People like him want a reaction. Toji knows more than anything that Suguru Geto wants to see him crack. He wants to hear him beg to stop, just so he can remind him about the deal. Suguru is aching to dig his fingers into the wound, to force it apart. Toji won’t give him the satisfaction. It’s practically the only shred of dignity he’s managed to preserve.

Eventually, it stops. Toji’s whole back is covered in a thin film of piss, and it’s soaked into parts of his hair and the outfit he’s been forced into, making it all the more obscene.

“I wasn’t expecting you to take that so well. Guess you liked it more than I thought, you dirty old whore.” Suguru gives the base of Toji’s neck a squeeze. He then withdraws his hand.

“Turn around. Stay on your knees.”

Toji obliges, lifting his head as slowly as possible to try and prevent any of the piss from running down his face. He’s not successful, and some of it drips from his hair onto his cheeks, running over his lipstick and dripping off of his chin. He looks up at Suguru with a brutal loathing, like a dog yearning to sink its teeth into its master’s flesh. And like the mongrel he is, Toji keeps his place. It disgusts him.

“You really have gotten used to this.” Suguru sounds impressed. He wraps a hand around the base of his cock, giving it a few languid pumps. Even this little touch is enough to make it swell, twitching visibly between his fingers. Toji only bothers to notice it in his peripheral. He refuses to give Suguru the satisfaction of acknowledging just how hung he was. Leave it to the brats to have a cock to back their attitude. Toji isn’t jealous in the slightest. His is fine. Plenty of women (and at least a handful of men) have begged for it.

“I’m sure you know what’s next. Open that mouth of yours, filthy girl.”

Toji’s lips curl at first, then part, revealing his bared teeth. He silently opens his mouth, and remembering what others preferred, sticks out his tongue a little. Suguru stands above him, dick in hand, admiring the sight for a few seconds. A bit of drool seeps out of Toji’s mouth, stringing and dripping onto the soaked carpet beneath his feet. This room is going to be unspeakably musty after this. If Toji were a nicer guy, he’d pity the housekeepers.

Suguru threads his fingers into Toji’s hair, seemingly uncaring if he gets his own piss on them. Slowly, he pushes forward into his mouth. Toji feels each and every inch. As much as he hates giving this little faggot the satisfaction, he can’t conceal the way his eyes roll back in his head to keep himself from gagging. It’s getting hard to breathe again. Suguru keeps going, heedless, and probably enjoying the faint gurgling noises of Toji trying to swallow around the dick down his throat. When he’s taken the whole thing, Toji looks up, lashes already wet with a combination of piss and unshed tears. The mascara definitely won’t last the whole arrangement.

“If you bite, I’ll make sure everyone knows what you are.” Suguru tugs his hair.

“Am I making myself clear?”

Toji can’t even break the rule on purpose now. It’s hard enough to breathe around the cock in his mouth, let alone talk. He settles for nodding. The slight bob of his head makes his teeth scrape lightly over Suguru’s skin, and for a moment, he wonders if he’s going to count that. A horrible jolt of unease settles in him- but Toji is lucky today, at least, because Suguru moans. Deep, long, and low. He’s been caught off guard.

“Seems I don’t have to teach you much of anything, do I? You already know what you’re doing. Whore.” He begins to move his hips, slowly. Suguru barely goes halfway out before he goes back in to the base, forcing Toji to take his entire cock down his throat again and again. Toji’s given head before. Begrudgingly. But this is just degrading. He can’t pull himself up for air. He can’t tap Suguru’s thigh if he gets tired. He just has to pray that his mouth and throat will be enough to get him off before he throws up, passes out, or both.

A bit more drool slides out of Toji’s mouth, streaking down his chin. It drips onto his chest, seeping into the bralette. The stupid shit that Suguru’s dressed him up in has long since made his skin go numb. He’ll have bruises and track lines everywhere tomorrow. Living proof that he did this. He let a 19 year old boy overpower him. He let Suguru Geto make him his bitch. Toji feels his stomach lurching again. He can’t tell if it’s the outfit, the cock down his throat, or both.

“Ugh, I always forget how much better throats are…” Suguru’s voice is considerably more hoarse. This is the most pleased he’s sounded this whole time. “So fucking warm…” He pulls a little harder on Toji’s hair, his other hand circling back around to the base of his head. Suguru splays his fingers against it, cupping it and palming it to force Toji’s head back and forth more effectively. His nose is crushed against Suguru’s groin with each harsh snap of his hips, and soon enough, it begins to bleed, dripping down between the two of them. Suguru isn’t bothered by it in the slightest. If anything, it seems to encourage him. The sight of Toji’s blood getting smeared against his skin and forced back into Toji’s mouth makes Suguru want to hurt him more.

Toji won’t make any noise. He’s stayed stubbornly silent this whole time, except for faint gagging and the occasional cough whenever Suguru has enough mercy to pull back and let him breathe. (After all, a constricted throat gasping for air is far tighter and more pleasurable than a relaxed one in a corpse. Suguru would know.) He’d rather hear him make some noise. After all, that’s half the fun.

“Squeal.” Suguru hisses, pulling on Toji’s hair sharply. He doesn’t stop moving, but slows down, now thrusting agonizingly slowly into the warmth of Toji’s mouth.

Toji does not squeal. He looks up at Suguru, the faintest hint of defiance still in his eyes. He thinks he can turn this around. He still doesn’t think that this is the worst case scenario. He thinks that he can win.

And Suguru Geto does not lose. Especially not to a dog on its leash.

“You remember the first rule, don’t you? Do as I say. When I say it. And I say squeal, Toji. Let this whole fucking hotel know what a little bitch you are. Let them know you’re a nasty dog who can’t help but drool over cock.” Suguru pulls his hair hard enough that he tears out a few strands. He flicks them carelessly onto the floor. Despite the rawness of his scalp, the bite of the gear, and the constant abuse to his nose, Toji doesn’t let a single sound slip out of him. He keeps himself focused on his goal. Silently serving.

Of course, Suguru could just threaten to release the audio again. But that wouldn’t be satisfying. It would be too easy. Besides, everyone knows the best pained whimpers have to be wrung out of someone. They lack their punch otherwise. Suguru is patient enough for that to happen.

After a few minutes of moving at that agonizingly slow pace, he picks up the speed again. Suguru barely pulls out on each thrust, shoving Toji’s face harshly against his pelvis. A few more strands of his hair get yanked out. Each time, Suguru tosses them to the floor, not even stopping. He gives Toji far fewer breaks. Now, he waits until he’s on the urge of passing out to let him breathe. Suguru keeps a close watch for when his eyes begin to unfocus, and his head starts to dip. Rather than let him off the hook and cum down his throat while he’s knocked out, Suguru pulls back each time, waiting for Toji to suck in a wretched, wet breath before he goes right back to fucking his throat.

Toji feels so raw.

Inhuman. Used.

When Suguru drives his hips far back into his throat, he chokes, gurgling quietly. A small tear, clouded with mascara, trails down his cheek. It leaves a smear in its wake. Suguru notices immediately, of course, smiling in that way that no live human being should ever smile. He places his thumb over it, wiping it away. The action resembles a lover’s caress. Or it would, if it wasn’t Suguru Geto who was doing it.

His thumb curls, well manicured thumbnail digging into the corner of his eye.

“Squeal, bitch.”

Suguru presses down hard into the delicate tissues there. Enough to cause an indent. Toji makes a displeased noise, gagging harder. The blood seeps into his eye, and he wants to blink it away, but he can’t. Suguru keeps moving, moaning quietly at the sight of blood mingling with tears and smudged mascara. He digs his thumb in harder, practically into Toji’s eye. That sends a sharp pain through his skull. Toji does, in fact, squeal. An exceptionally high pitched one at that. Muffled, albeit, around Suguru’s cock, but a squeal nonetheless.

“Good doggy.” Suguru’s lips peel back in a rabid smile. Toji feels utterly emasculated.

He would have hoped that when Suguru finally put his cock in his mouth, he’d only have to endure a few more precious minutes of humiliation. Just long enough to get a teenage boy off. But it’s been far too many minutes. Countless times, his head is jerked back and forth, up and down his dick. Sometimes, his teeth graze a little too close to his skin, and it makes Suguru snarl down at him. The pace changes. It slows down, it speeds up. It feels endless- Toji’s brains are going to get fucked loose at this rate. He doesn’t know if he’ll be able to make it back home at this rate.

Or if Suguru will let him leave after just one favour.

Toji gags silently. He’s sucked a guy off more than a few times (barely EVER willingly, come to think about it.) It never gets better. He doesn’t know how those pretty little boytoys at the club manage to take mouthful after mouthful of their own spit mixed with precum. Toji’s had worse, he thinks, at least Suguru is clean, but he doesn’t have much else going for him. He tastes just as foul as every other guy that’s ever forced their dick down his throat. It’s making Toji nauseous.

“Fuck, you really do take everything I give you.” Suguru sounds breathless, his voice strained. “If I had known you were like this, I would have brought some friends along. We could have all had a turn with this wonderful little whore mouth.” He ruffles Toji’s hair, uncaring as to the general disgusting state it’s in. It makes Toji feel like a kid again. He hates it. But not quite as much as he hates the idea of a gaggle of Suguru’s equally stupid teenage friends blowing their loads in his mouth one after the other. Just the thought makes a disgusted shudder run through him.

He gags again. This time, a little bit of acid does come up, evidenced by the surprised and pained gasp Suguru makes. “Ugh, watch what you’re doing.” At least he shows a little mercy, pulling his cock out far enough that the tip rests between Toji’s bruised and swollen lips. The lipstick has smeared just about everywhere all over his face now, mixing with sweat, blood, and who knows what else.

For a single, paralysis moment, Suguru doesn’t move. He only stares down at his handiwork, admiring the mess he’s reduced Toji to. He doesn’t even look like a person anymore. Of course, he never really was one to Suguru- you could find slutty, desperate “not gay” middle aged men pretty much anywhere, if you tossed a beer can. But this? This was art. Suguru had done Toji a massive favour, and he didn’t even realize it.

“On second thought, I’d like to keep you all for myself.” Suguru slowly drags the head of his cock over Toji’s lips. A bit more lipstick smears across the tip. “Open.”

Reluctantly, Toji parts his lips again, expecting to be on the receiving end of yet more brutal fucking. Suguru doesn’t deliver. Instead, he drags his hand up and down his cock, stroking slowly and firmly. His brow is furrowed in complete concentration. Toji would make fun of him for looking so scholarly, but even if he wasn’t being actively blackmailed into silence, he isn’t sure his voice even works anymore. His throat feels like it’s been scraped completely raw, replaced with nothing but the bitter and unpleasant taste of Suguru’s cock.

“Don’t move an inch…” Suguru gasps quietly, his eyes half lidding. He bucks his hips into his hand, groaning on each pass. Toji doesn’t avert his gaze, even as pearly ropes of cum land on his face. It drips down his hair, into his brows and down his face. Suguru moans like he’s dying at the sight- really, there’s probably less bodily fluids than are on his face at present. Best of all, he doesn’t react much. He just sits there on his knees, gaze vacant and vaguely sad. It reminds Suguru of a beaten dog.

“Don’t be shy, hound. Have your dinner.” He reaches down, smearing some of his cum across Toji’s open tongue. Suguru watches the man recoil in disgust. “Don’t you dare waste a drop.” He tucks himself back into his pants, watching with great satisfaction and delight as Toji forces himself to wipe his face off, sucking cum off of his fingers. He gags every time he does it, shoulders shuddering and eyes watery. It’s almost more satisfying than the orgasm itself.

Eventually, Toji’s nausea wins. No sooner than he finishes cleaning the cum mixed with dried blood off his face, he bends over, hands planted firmly on the floor as he heaves a few times at the base of the bed. Barely anything comes up- only a foamy mix of bile and what he just swallowed. Suguru clucks his tongue. Toji notices it too late- in the corner of his vision, a foot that presses down on his back. Normally, he could support both his own weight and someone Suguru’s size with ease, but everything about today has rendered him weak and defenceless. He’s forced face down into his own vomit, choking silently.

“You’re so ungrateful.” Suguru steps down a little harder. Toji rolls his head to open his airway, vomit dripping down his face and soaking into his hair. “But you know what, I’ve had enough of you today. Be glad I’m not making you clean up your own mess, slut.” He shifts his weight just enough for Toji to struggle free, wiping the vomit off of his nose. “You’re free to put your clothes back on.”

In a daze, Toji rises to his feet. He can hardly stand. He stumbles into the bathroom, closing the door behind him. He removes the stupid getup as quickly as he can- and sure enough, ugly purple bruises are already starting to form. The makeup Suguru put on him is a waterproof variety- because of course, what’s the point otherwise. It smeared just fine with tears, but getting it off? Toji can’t. He looks worse for trying.

Silently, he debates taking a shower. But he doesn’t want to linger any longer than he absolutely has to.

Toji walks back out of the bathroom. He tosses the lingerie carelessly on the bed, grabbing his own clothes and getting dressed as quickly as he can. “You gonna delete that recording now?” His voice is quiet, barely existent. Toji hates it. He hates this moment, he hates what he did, he hates himself.

“Hmm, I don’t know. Wouldn’t it be unfair?”

“Unfair?” You want to talk unfair, baby fag? Are you shitting me?

“Think of all those poor, stupid bastards you’ve coerced into bed with you. I’m doing them a favour by holding onto this.” Suguru seems to relish his supposed morals. It makes Toji feel like gagging all over again.

“…this wasn’t a one time thing, was it.”

“No.” Suguru replies sweetly. “I’ll see you back at the club in two weeks, 7pm. Don’t be late.” He flicks his hand toward the door, almost shooing Toji out. A bitter retort settles on Toji’s tongue, but like everything else, he swallows it, walking out the room door without turning back.

When he gets home that night, the first thing he does is scream his lungs out.