Disclaimer: I do not own X.
Author's Thanks: To my beta, Cait-hime-sama! Also many thanks to Elizabeth Benedict, author of The Joy of Writing Sex, whose book helped me map out guidelines to some of the future scenes in this fic.
Other many thanks, not a bit fewer than the those of the above, go to Trench Kamen for advising me about this story.
Author's Notes: This is the second edition, re-edited version of Equivocal since I've been feeling that the way the story was told the first time failed to hit the right spot in you readers and get the right result from you.
Disclaimer 2: This story is a non-humor satire, aimed to mock a certain way far too many writers focus on the yaoi quartet; Fuma-Kamui-Subaru-Seishiro.
Any OOC, over-the-top, non-canon and downright stupid behavior by the character has its purposes and is NOT written out of the belief that this is how the characters are really or should really be.
Chapter 2: Destiny Shaking
The Four Seasons Hotel never held such high promises to Seishiro as it did that day. He never regarded it as anything other than another fancy building in the ever busy heart of Tokyo.
But today, as he walked into its lobby heading for the elevators, it was something special.
It would prove exciting, if not interesting, to watch the brat he regarded as an obstacle in his ownership over Subaru's heart slowly break and crumble under his touch.
He didn't plan on talking unless he had something extremely nasty to say; he'll just break the boy beyond repair.
Just because Seishiro never did it to Subaru doesn't mean he wasn't capable of it at all.
Lord knows he had many 'lovers' on whom to practice methods of breaking the minds and hearts of men.
He was going to shatter the brat so badly there would be nothing left of him but a whimpering, wheezzing bloody pulp, never to be able to walk, talk or think properly after he's done with him.
His 'Kamui' might not approve of it at all. Seishiro always suspected his teen leader to have sexual interests in the boy.
But Seishiro couldn't give a flying fuck about 'Kamui', about the Dragons of Earth, about the Earth's wish or whatever the fuck it is when it came to his Subaru. You don't piss the Sakurazukamori off and expect to walk out of it without a scratch.
As he rode the elevator to Kamui's floor Seishiro mulled the scene he observed with his shiki a few days ago. His Subaru-kun holding Kamui's hand out of the blue, without a real reason, as he sat by the brat's bed.
His toy had a tendency to attach himself to vulnerable things and Kamui knew that, the little brat.
Well, Seishiro sighed mentally; it's all going to end now isn't it?
He was standing before the door of room 498, putting his palm against the door to gently open it.
It was cold in here. Well, what could Kamui expect when he's stark naked!
His wrists were starting to hurt, and the blood was slowly draining from his arms due to his restricted position.
But Kamui took hardly any note of it. His mind was feverishly reciting his letter to Fuma hoping and praying that it worked properly, hoping Fuma would come to him like he asked, hoping they would finish this meeting in each others arms happy and spent.
The soft blindfold was wet, having soaked up Kamui's tears of fear, excitement and panic.
He spent the morning here, preparing for this meeting.
Screwing in the hook used to hold him steady and making sure it was secure enough to hold some of his body's weight was a nerve wracking task when his hands were shaking so violently.
Only for a shimmering second Kamui thought of how on earth he was about to repair the hole in the ceiling so that tomorrow when he checks out the hotel staff won't charge after him with demands of repair. The thought vanished quickly, drowning in the buzz inside his obsessive mind.
He took off his clothes and neatly folded them, placing them on the nightstand. He placed the tube of lubricant near the clothes; the plastic tube falling to the floor from his trembling fingers a few times before he successfully steadied it on the wooden surface.
For a moment, Kamui stared out the wall sized window of his room and a flush of hot embarrassment washed over his face when he noted a man in a far off office building standing by the window overlooking him.
Surely the man couldn't see him clearly from this distance, not his face anyway…so he wouldn't be able to recognize him in the street, right? He wouldn't know the naked kid about to strap himself like an animal in a slaughterhouse is Shiro Kamui, right? Right?
Kamui shook his head violently as if the thoughts were drops of water soaking into his skull. He turned his back to the wall and his observer to look up timidly at the hook in the ceiling.
He looked at the elegant clock on the room's wall….fifteen minutes to their meeting time….but what if Fuma arrived early…..?
Kamui climbed on the bed, almost falling down as his knees betrayed him and tumbled him to the mattress. The silken bedspread was soft on Kamui's exposed skin. Kamui wished to snuggle up in it and hide from the world, even from the upcoming Fuma.
No! He was not going to hide from Fuma! He was going to go through with this; he had no fear!
He only had love in his heart, passion in his hands, longing on his lips. He was prepared.
Taking a deep breath, Kamui climbed back to his feet and reached for the two straps on the bed. One was a black silk scarf, the other was a tough black leather strap.
He secured the leather strap on the hook and practiced the bonding knot, remembering how to do it by touch, so that later when he was blindfolded he would know how to do it well.
After a few mishaps, Kamui withdrew the BDSM manual he brought with him (Clamp Campus's extracurricular activities are not what people often think they are) and revised the bonding steps again.
When he felt he was well prepared for it, Kamui tried the knot once more and succeeded.
Very well, he thought, and untied himself. He took the silk strip and bound it tightly around his head. The world was black around him. A strange calm spread through his mind, completely pushing out the fever of fixation.
Steadying himself on the soft mattress with no sense of vision, Kamui stood up and reached for the leather strap. He had to use his inhuman powers to keep balanced on the mattress, imagining it to be a particularly thin branch on the very top of a tree.
With the strap securely in his hand, he bound himself.
The deadly silence of waiting came. His world turned black, his raging thoughts returning as a soundtrack; Kamui could scream.
Instead, he whimpered.
He cried. His restrained body slumped down, testing the hook's strength in the ceiling, succumbed to the side effects of emotional exhaustion and frantic work.
Then the door clicked. Someone came into the room. Kamui could hear heavy footsteps on the deep soft rug of his room. Fuma came in.
Kamui started shaking; biting his lower lip he struggled not to whimper, not to cry again, not to pant too audibly, not to make a sound.
He couldn't help a miserable, helpless, powerless, begging "Fuma…?" to escape his lips.
There was a "Do not disturb" sign on the door. Seishiro had to laugh at that.
No, he had to muffle his laughter so the boy in the room might not pick the different, lower octave of his voice and realize it was the wolf knocking on his door and not the savior forest hunter.
"Do not disturb" on the door, a sign for the room service to not enter the cottage where Big Bad Wolf chews down on Little Red Riding Hood. The brat is indeed a wandering, foolish, little girl full of innocence and the idiotic notion that anyone nearing her must be harmless.
Little Red Riding Hood will soon learn. Seishiro stopped laughing, removed his hand from his mouth, and grinned to himself.
The door was unlocked, pretty foolish, ne? His 'Kamui' could surely open the lock so locking would be stupid, but to not lock at all?
Oh well.
He stepped into the dimly lit room. Sunset's fiery colors started to paint the sky and the room with a violent deep pink-red. Tokyo lay magnificent beyond the huge wall of a window, its lights starting to twinkle as millions of people began lighting the million rooms they lived and worked in.
As soon as he took his eye off the breathtaking view from the immense window, Seishiro found something equally breathtaking to cast it on.
Something that would not let his eye off of it. Something that electrified his mind and seeped into his blood so he would not have another good night's sleep without consuming it again.
Seishiro never really took his time to better scrutinize the Seven Seal's Kamui. It must have been his hurt pride, maybe it was his 'Kamui's' presence there that made Seishiro dismiss the boy's looks the first time they met each other. Whenever Kamui was with Subaru, obviously, Seishiro's attention settled on Subaru.
So, he never quite had the chance to see how breathtakingly beautiful Kamui was.
The smooth black silk that blocked Kamui's eyes shone as brilliantly as his raven hair. The dark fabric enhancing the perfect white of Kamui's face, which only served to emphasize the pink flush in the feminine highly set cheeks, and the blush in itself fainted poorly at the bold pouting pink lips, so soft looking and delicate.
It wasn't the thrill of hunting that made Seishiro's heart beat faster. It wasn't bloodlust that made his mouth dry in need of something to run his tongue over. It wasn't finding a target and making sure it had nowhere to escape that made his head dizzy.
It wasn't emotion either, definitely not. It was excitement of another sort, a hunger of another kind.
Kamui was the embodiment of Seishiro's Achilles heel, but that will be thought over later, for right now all Seishiro wanted to do was to turn his brain off and let his body wander over and succumb to its wishes.
He toed his shoes off; noting that the boy's enhanced inhuman-abilities-I'll-need-for-1999 hearing picked up his footsteps, and neared the boy on the bed.
"Fuma….?" The boy whimpered.
For a second the boy's letter flittered in Seishiro's consciousness, reminding him of what he really came here for. Seishiro shook it off, using the best excuse ever, the Scarlet O'Hara "I won't think about it now, I'll think about it later" to make himself forget and give into lust.
To help stabilize himself on lust, Seishiro reached out and lay the very tips of his left hand fingers on the flat of the boy's stomach.
The boy was just like he wanted him to be, somewhere in the back of his head where he drew an image of the perfect sexual playmate for himself; muscle-less and fat-less, a waif. A fresh bud.
His fingers trailed downwards from the edge of the boy's ribcage to the extremely sensitive territory of his lower abdomen. The boy's manhood leaped into action, hard and ready for him to take.
Seishiro loosened up his tie, removing it completely and throwing it carelessly to the floor by the bed. He unbuttoned his shirt and shrugged his jacket off.
His left hand kept trailing across the boy's body, registering the milky soft skin as it relaxed under his touch from the cold-inflicted goose bumps. His hand registered how the boy's body began to heat up under the simple touch until it was like a delicately shaped heater. Oh, how he was able to get himself started, this boy, like a luxury car's engine. Seishiro liked luxurious things.
Seishiro let his mouth take command now as he bent forward and traced little circles around the boy's right nipple. Those nipples were driving him a little crazy a moment ago, so small and pink and perfect they really looked like closed little flowers.
His right hand moved over himself, roughly caressing his chest and lower into the crotch of his immaculate black Armani pants which he unbuttoned a moment ago.
No, he didn't want to get off like that, though in a few moments he won't be able to……no, he wasn't able to control himself.
Swearing under his breath, Seishiro disconnected himself from the magnetizing naked boy and walked to the nightstand by the large bed, fetching a paper tissue from the little box situated atop the dark brown wood and cleaning his semen from the suit he picked up from dry cleaning this very damn morning.
"Fu….Fuma….wh….Fuma?" the boy was whimpering and shaking again.
Seishiro looked back at Kamui raging and blaming him for his own lack of control.
But he won't think about it now, not now for god's sake, when he's up and ready again, not now when the boy has his frail little back to him, not with that small and perfectly round behind so vulnerable before him.
Removing his shirt, shaking off his pants, Seishiro climbed on the bed and went on all fours.
Yes he went on all fours, Sakurazuka Seishiro, because he wanted to kiss the small of the boy's back. Just between the two dimples he found as the most erotic part in the boy except those sensual pink lips.
He let his lips linger there for a while until the boy stopped shaking and calmed down.
The boy didn't really calm down from the moment Seishiro started touching him to the very end of their act. The boy was always panting or whimpering or withering or trying to form the name of a person he thought he was with and failing miserably.
It didn't matter really because just like the boy couldn't speak properly, Seishiro couldn't hear properly.
The two were so locked in their little world of fantasies coming true that anything else in the world around them faded and unfocused.
Seishiro rose to kneeling on the bed like the boy, and reached out to the boy's hips.
He didn't like his prey with too many leg muscles. Boys like that climbed trees in their life, played with their friends, did some exercise. Boys like that could get up and run away from him. Seishiro liked them to be like noble Chinese girls of ancient times; beautiful and crippled so whenever they'd try to escape they'd fall down and fail. Then he could leap down on them and devour them like the Wolf on tiny Red Riding Hood.
With that thought in mind he bit down into the boy's shoulder, grazing his teeth against the perfect skin and taking great measures not to inflict even the tiniest flaw on the boy.
The boy moaned, so much like a well trained porno star, with such surprise at his own delight and so much pleasure, so much succumbing in one airy "ah…." Seishiro found another plus to the boy.
Looking up at the knot that bound the boy, Seishiro had to laugh. He reached upwards and pulled the little excess strap that secured the boy from escaping.
Ah, that knot, the good old days in high school when he could practice it over and over again in their after school club (after all, Seishiro was once a Clamp Campus student); indeed it brought back good memories. But the subjects of his practice in high school were never such perfect specimens of Seishiro's fantasies.
With his fantasies in mind, Seishiro reached over to the boy's erect member, busying his mouth with tracing patterns on a pure white ear and making the boy purr, while his hands began caressing lower, turning to pumping the hardness in his hand slowly.
"No…." the boy exhaled suddenly "Don't play…." Seishiro bit down on him again in hope of silencing him so that he could concentrate on his own pleasure "Ju….just do…..just do it….please….Fuma please…."
The pleading tone; what a perfect slave the boy would make if Seishiro would have really ever mastered the studies of BDSM, but he never bothered to get too deep into it.
Seishiro had a tendency to not obsess as much as he submerged himself in things in a fashion quite similar to obsession.
He did it with work and with pretending to be the Kind Veterinarian and by the end of The Bet he realized it was hard to yank himself out of these submergings whenever he wished to be free.
But if this boy was with him in the after school club at the time, Seishiro would have delighted in taking another course and another with him as the dominant and the boy as his slave and submerge himself so deep he'd truly drown in it.
And the words…."Do it"…..he didn't have a choice but to do it now or he wouldn't be able to control himself again.
Seishiro turned around and found the lubricant.
He registered it earlier when he scanned the room in general, making sure to always remember where everything is in his environment and help himself gain more control over a situation.
There were moments in Seishiro's fantasies that threw him (mentally) off the edge. Stripping whomever he was about to have sex with was one. Kissing whomever it was across the neck and toying with their ears to make his subject shudder was another. Applying lubricant to his fingers and inserting them into whomever he was with was another.
Seishiro could throw his head back and laugh wholeheartedly with how absurd it seemed that this boy of all the boys in the world followed his fantasies as if he was going through a list ticking off everything Seishiro ever wanted in a sexual partner:
When he slid his fingers in not only did the boy gasp with pleasure (Seishiro didn't like the chaste 'oh my god what are you doing!' over-innocent reactions) but he also bucked his hips, drawing his lower back towards Seishiro to take more of his fingers in.
It was a lot like petting a cat, the animal leaning into the touch while directing you to where it liked the touch most.
He played with his fingers inside the boy, twiddling a little and turning them in different directions. The boy was shaking, gasping and moaning.
It wasn't malice Seishiro stared at the blindfolded boy's back with, it was amazement. No one ever caught him unguarded like that since his 'Kamui' commented to him about how much he couldn't care less about whether he gave cigarettes to a minor or not.
Finally, seriously on the verge of orgasm, Seishiro directed himself into the boy and slid in. he grabbed the boy hard, one arm across his chest and the other pumping the boy.
His head became heavy, violently dizzy, so he rested it on the boy's shoulder to nip at his neck and collar bone (another over the edge part in his fantasies, because now he could come if he wanted to) Seishiro felt the impending climax rake through his body with such power like he had never experienced before, little waves preparing his body for the tsunami about to come.
The only thing that kept Seishiro from reaching climax in earnest was the boy, whose mouth was just by his ear. He was saying his damned "Fuma, Fuma, Fuma, Fuma" over and over again and for some obscure reason it irked Seishiro enough to rob him of the precious super orgasm he felt he was going to have.
He reached out with his free hand and traced the boy's lips. The boy picked his middle finger and began kissing it hungrily, sucking on it erotically.
That was enough to throw him off big time. Usually he would be angry at himself for letting his mask fall off enough to let someone else hear him scream but right now nothing could make Seishiro shut his mouth. Besides, by then his body was so out of control that even if he wanted to he couldn't stop himself from yelling when he came.
He was so ignorant to anything else besides the white-hot pleasure that he didn't notice the boy was biting down on his finger.
He did register it somewhere in his foggy mind and connected it to the boy's own climax as his unbitten palm registered a mildly sticky substance poured into it.
"Fuma….?"
Was it Fuma? Was it? Was it? Was it? Was it? Was it? Was it!
The silence was eating Kamui alive. Someone was in the room, standing directly before him, watching him…but was it Fuma?
Kamui would honestly die if it wasn't, if it was some hotel worker who decided it must be funny to come in and watch this pathetic youth hanging, bound like some twisted hentai movie character, from a hook where the hotel room's lamp should be.
Kamui would tell the whole Battle of the Apocalypse to go screw itself and flee the country with a new I.D. if it was a fellow Seal who went looking for him after he went missing the whole morning and located him here, bound and naked like some ancient barbarian shrine offering.
Was it Fuma? Oh god….
Kamui never believed in any religion really but he begged any deity out there to have mercy on his petty black soul and deliver Fuma here before him now.
Fingers were touching him softly, kindly, lovingly. Kamui's heart beat in his chest so hard it was painful. His throat was dry and twitching with choked tears of excitement. It was Fuma!
Fuma was running his hand down his body, oh yes! He was appreciating him, he was caressing him, he wasn't going to hurt him too badly…..oh yes!
They were going to do it, they were going to make love and end this stupid teasing dance in the name of Kekkais to be protected and broken.
Kamui was shaking as he stopped himself from crying with joy. He wanted to kiss Fuma, wanted to tell Fuma to kiss him but his brain and his tongue betrayed him, letting him produce only whimpers and broken syllables.
He felt a hot tongue playing on his nipple and his head silenced again. There was nothing in there but bright white clouds shining with light. Kamui's mind was soaring high in the sky.
Inside him was a little boy dancing happily, shooting his fists in the air and hollering at the top of his lungs, "YAAAAAY! I DID IT! I'M DOING IT! IT WORKED!".
Kamui was moaning, thanking whatever deity it was with withering sounds.
And it stopped! All of a sudden the cold was back as if the hot mouth on his body was all the heat Kamui had to protect him from the cold on his naked body.
Just like happiness crushed on Kamui like a tumbling Sunshine 60, so did the fear he was experiencing now.
Did Fuma change his mind? Did regret spoil their encounter? Was it their role in destiny that Fuma thought of and removed himself from him?
Kamui wished to tear at the leather strap and throw himself at Fuma, to throw himself at his questionable lover's feet and beg for more.
Why did Fuma leave? He could hear Fuma pant and choke a few moans a moment back, he was sexually excited for sure! Why did he leave!
Fuma was walking behind him, somewhere to Kamui's left …wha…what was going on! Kamui was on the verge of tears again.
"Fu….Fuma….wh….Fuma?" he managed to say, trying to fight the tears from soaking his voice. Why was it that he couldn't make a proper sentence!
It didn't matter anymore because Fuma was climbing on the bed behind him and placing his lips….yes, his lips on his lower back…..oh he was back! He was back! Fuma was back!
He was touching his legs, stroking him, touching him again. The child in Kamui started dancing with renewed energies.
Fuma once said that he knew everything Kamui could and couldn't do because he was Kamui himself.
That's why he knew Kamui liked a little pain. He knew Kamui picked up the habit of a little violence ever since Fuma started mumbling things about the End of the World.
How else would he know he should bite down on his shoulder? Electric currents ran under Kamui's skin every time he felt teeth grazing his skin.
And how would he know he didn't like it when Fuma hurt him enough to make him bleed? How would he know to bite down without breaking his skin?
Oh, his new Fuma was so wonderful, so considerate and loving, so soft and caring and brutal and sexual and so fucking brilliant!
The little tug to the knot binding him came. Kamui read that manual over and over again. Fuma was accepting his role in this game; he was taking dominance over it, over Kamui.
Now he has no where to run, but who the fuck wants to run anyway!
Oh, the tongue was back, Fuma was licking his sensitive ears…..he knows just where to lick….oh, the joy….
But his hands were playing downstairs, his hands were going to throw him off the edge and Kamui couldn't trust his excitement to support him into another round if he reached climax now.
No, he wanted more than just a little hand-job from Fuma. He wanted the real deal now that things had to be proven. They'll have all the time in the world, when this is over and they'll call the Battle off, to play around and test each other's abilities. Now what Kamui wanted more than anything was to feel Fuma fill him.
"No…." he tried making Fuma stop. It didn't help. Goddamn it why was it so hard to talk! "Don't play…." Fuma only bit down on him again to try and get him off quicker.
Kamui was a very stubborn little thing when he wanted it and he wanted Fuma in him now "Ju….just do…..just do it….please….Fuma please…." Begging was something any good slave would do to his dominant and that was their game, was it not?
It did the trick. Fuma let go of him and disappeared from the little world of touch-induced lights playing before Kamui's closed eyes.
What brought dancing colorful lights back were two fingers as they entered him, playing inside a little.
Fuma had such big manly hands; Kamui always registered that as he saw his object of affection and lust play basketball.
He always tried to picture those strong long fingers splayed on the orange ball, forcefully do the same across him.
Fuma's fingers were manipulating him into a submissive pulp now, just like they did with the basketball, only the ball was not quite as withering and liquid like Kamui was now…. metaphors are a hard thing to form when you're being prodded the way Kamui was.
Fuma removed the fingers and Kamui gasped, awaiting the bigger things, awaiting Fuma himself.
Fuma never knew it, but during that basketball game Kamui came to watch, his high school team's uniform pants were just loose enough to make Kamui not quite concentrate on the game, rather on what was bouncing under them as Fuma leaped and dodged about the field.
When Kamui really began obsessing over Fuma's body that was the first thing he tried to picture. He'd lie in bed and think up how Fuma might look under those loose red shorts and shiver in his bed from repressed lust.
Now that part of Fuma was within reach, fuck reach, Kamui could feel it squeezing into him.
He leaned in deeper, taking Fuma completely into him. He wanted to scream out with joy like the little child within him. He wanted to burst into tears and thank Fuma for deeming him worthy of it. He wanted to beg Fuma to thrust harder.
He didn't need to do that, now did he? Because Fuma was pounding into him so forcefully Kamui needn't speak. He couldn't speak though he could hear himself say Fuma's name with an ever increasing volume.
Fuma was such an animal! Such a delicious and vicious animal! Truly he was some kind of a predator, clawing at him and pumping him and taking him so forcefully.
Kamui was losing his ability to register his surrounding or anything in his body but the strips of flesh where Fuma's skin touched his. Everything was a black void around him like in Hinoto's dreams, only with an oncoming orgasm to add to the fun. The pleasure was transporting Kamui into a world where nothing else mattered and no words besides his lover's name meant anything.
Fuma was kissing his collarbone, licking his neck and nipping at it gently.
Kamui wanted to touch that slightly spiky, sticky from sweat mixed with too much hair gel, raven hair. He wanted to smell the musk of Fuma's sweat, the sweat he seduced out of him.
Fuma reached to his mouth to feel his lips. Kamui could feel him about to burst inside him.
He wanted to toy with Fuma and prove to him that he can be erotic and sexy even in the minimum self control state he was in. He picked Fuma's middle finger and sucked down on it, tracing circles with his tongue on the digit like it was Fuma's manhood inside him.
And he didn't give up on his need to smell Fuma and feel his hair against his face.
If he gave that wish up maybe he'd be a little saner later when this was all over.
Kamui moved his head to Fuma's hair and took a deep whiff.
IT WASN'T FUMA.
He was starting to shake. Sadly it wasn't because of his new revelation. It was because he was a stone rolling uncontrollably down a very steep slope and he couldn't stop himself from reaching the bottom. He couldn't help the earthshaking orgasm about to come upon him.
But it wasn't Fuma…..who was it!
Who was it that smelled of cigarettes? Not Subaru because Subaru's hands were more like his, small and delicate, and Subaru would have tried to talk to him before doing something like this.
And it wasn't Fuma for sure because Fuma didn't smell of sakura because Fuma was slightly allergic to the stuff and Kamui knew that since the first time he saw Fuma break out with a rash standing under a cherry tree.
"Why do I smoke?" Subaru's voice filtered through the raking pleasure and the huge rocks rattling inside Kamui's mind, the violent pulse of blood in Kamui's ears. "Because he smokes".
He being the…..oh no…..
The Sakurazukamori, which would explain why the hair he was leaning against was reeking of the pink petal's scent.
No. No. No. No. No. No. No. No. NO!
It couldn't be Seishiro, Kamui bit down on the finger in his mouth trying to cut it in half and make the man stop moving so wonderfully inside him.
It couldn't be Seishiro who was milking the purest, most powerful and most delighting sensation Kamui was now experiencing. It couldn't…..
But it was too late…..too late……too late….oh Fu….no….not Fu…..too late…..too late for that…..
If there was a thought in Kamui's mind it was gone now, washed away by the huge tide of climax. He was screaming into the finger and shaking so badly and thanking not the deity, but this man for the orgasm.
After the bright white light that blinded him came the afterglow and a dead faint. Kamui was simply too shocked, too charged and too exhausted to keep awake after it all.
Whether he fainted or fell asleep Kamui couldn't remember. All he knew was that there was something soft at the bottom of the pitch black pit he was falling into and that was enough to know to let go of control. He crushed into the bed as his binding was released and strong arms caught him. He did not want to think about whose arms they were.
There was one thing that lingered in the fragments of seconds before he went blank. It was like acid in his mind, burning down anything in its path.
It was Seishiro, not Fuma, who just made him feel so damn good. Sakurazuka(mori!) Seishiro.
(tbc)