It was a miscalculation of massive proportions
Large scared hands running over silken mocha skin
He knew the dangers involved in using his power without proper care. He was plenty old enough to know better, and Ginjo warned him that Sado Yasutora was special. He should have paid more attention.
Dark silken hair whispering across bruises marking the youthful body as it shudders in pleasureful response.
He thought he could get away with simply skimming for the word 'trust' in his book and slip right in to that spot, no harm done. He should have looked closer. He should have read more. He should have seen this coming.
The loud crack of the ridding crop sings through the dark along with hungry, anguished cries for more, please, harder, faster. Bruised and bleeding yet just as eager for more pain as he is for pleasure as he thrashes in his bonds. The need to taste the dark and battered flesh is overwhelming.
He knew going in that he would, for a moment, though only a moment, feel as if the memories he put in his victim were his as well. In that moment the new memory would be every bit as real as if he had lived it himself as for his victim, and for a moment it would be no lie so he would know how he'd be seen after.
His teasing brings the dark youth to madness as well as to his edge. Not yet. Not finished. The boy sees the instrument's path as it prepares to stop Tora-kun's relief. "Y-y-our're going to put that metal INSIDE there?...O-okay. I trust you. I'll hold still..." Always so eager, so responsive, so fearless.
Sado Yasutora was special. He never would have guessed at the true darkness buried beneath that large exterior. The quiet hid well that he could scream his passion with such abandon. Polite and formal speech concealed well the perversions he could beg for.
The girth looks huge and pale as it sinks into his eager body. His hips must remain in the bruising grip or he will tear himself in his enthusiasm again. My marks can be hidden easier then a limp.
Trust is a powerful word. It is also a terribly vague word. "Book of the End" is a powerful Fullbringer. It is also one of the most dangerous to wield, tearing at the mind as well as the body. Changing reality can backfire all to easily. He knew better.
Clenching silken heat holds snugly to the flesh it's impaled on. Juices drip in an intimate caress. His dark jade eyes roll back as his thick dark lashes flutter and his entire sweat slicked body quakes as he is finally allowed release, of pleasure, of pain, of thought, and at the end, even consciousness.
Standing in the apartment he had slipped into a millisecond behind Sado, his head begins to clear as he looks down upon the unconscious form of the exotic young man whose past he has just altered. He takes in the chiseled face, full and shapely lips, the long and muscular frame, sprawled helplessly at the feet of his would-be enemy. Foreign longing stirred within him, fulled by living the taboo he stumbled on.
He is brought ever so gently to the warm bath, cradled softly in arms with the power and strength to snap necks like trees. His dark jade eyes flutter open like settling butterflies as he is lowered into the warm water.
As eyes opened and focused, a look comes to the front of their guarded depths. It was hungry and urgent and loving and promising forbidden desire all at once. Then his arms were full of a long and muscular frame as it trembled with emotion, moisture on his shoulder from unseen tears as he was clutched like a drowning man clings to a log in a storm.
The hands that only moments ago beat him bruised and bloody now tenderly clean his wounds and he stretches like a contented cat, arching into the caress of the washcloth with a lazy smile. Rich and sweet and slightly accented, he purrs their strange version of endearment. "Don't worry, I'll never tell. You're the only one who understands."
"You're back. When...? How long will...? Never mind. It doesn't matter. Just say you'll stay tonight. I need you so bad." The rich and sweet voice carried a deeper tone and the crush of emotion thickened his ascent.
Tsukishima knew it wasn't his memory, his hands, his body, but breathing Sado's spicy musk as the boy trembled against him, he wasn't sure if he cared.
"don't worry. I'll never tell. My friends would think I was too weak to fight beside them if they ever knew."
He was so close that he could taste the breath that ghosted across his lips, see the sweetly sinful promises in those exotic eyes.
Ginjo would be furious.
Ginjo wasn't there to see.
Tora-kun won't tell.
Tonight, I'm the only one who understands.
"Of course I'll stay. How can I refuse you anything when you ask like that?" Sado Yasutora was special, and maybe he never could call the youth his before, but tonight he didn't want to fight the urge to possess the quiet beauty that lingered in the echo of a stranger's tender mercies.