It starts with an off-handed comment after a mission.
A joke, really.
If I wanted something sweet, Satoru, I'd just eat you…
I'd just eat you…
Eat you…
Suguru just laughed it off then, but it had Satoru's mind running wild for weeks.
Which, in the grand scheme of things, isn't too difficult to do, really. Satoru's mind has a tendency to run away from him. Like now, he's got Suguru pinned to the floor of his bedroom, their little sparring session having gotten out of hand (like always), and even with Suguru spread before him like an offering, the only thing Satoru can think about is that fucking comment that was thrown at him weeks ago.
"If you keep zoning out, I'm gonna rock your shit." Suguru grunts from under him, snapping Satoru back to the present with a half-assed thrust of his hips. "Now get off, you're heavy."
"That's cute and all, but from where I'm standing you couldn't even if you tried." Satoru grins right into his face while not moving an inch. "But I liked that. Do that thing with your hips again."
The back and forth is as close to foreplay as the two of them will ever get. They treat everything like a competition, a challenge to see who can best the other, and maybe that's not exactly helping Satoru's current dilemma either.
"Coming from the whore with his hard on pressed against my ass, but okay."
Satoru has a comeback already locked and loaded on his lips, ready to let him know exactly what he plans to do with said hard on, when Suguru suddenly bucks up hard from beneath him and knocks Satoru off balance. He's pretty sure he's bleeding if the copper taste in his mouth is anything to go by, but he has less than a second to process it before he's being thrown onto his back and straddled like a glorified pony, dick once again pressed right against Suguru's ass.
"What was that again? 'Even if I tried?' And to be clear, I definitely didn't try, Satoru." Suguru huffs out a laugh, eyes shining with his victory. "So what the fuck has you so distracted? Because even on your worst day that little maneuver shouldn't have worked."
"That ass is a distraction," Satoru tosses at him, but the way Suguru licks his lips makes the words scramble together at the end as Satoru's mind takes a nosedive right into the very thing that's actually been distracting him.
If I wanted something sweet…
I'd just eat you.
"Is it really that disgusting?" The question comes out of nowhere, making Suguru pause where he's begun unbuttoning Satoru's shirt. "Eating curses, I mean. Is it really that bad?"
"I'm literally about to ride your dick and you're asking about my cursed technique…? Did you hit your head or something?"
"No, I just…" Satoru has no idea what to put there. The idea of actually telling Suguru what he's been fantasizing about all this time makes him nauseous. They fight and they fuck, yes, but even Satoru questions his state of mind every time he thinks about asking Suguru to eat a literal piece of him… or pieces of him.
"I was curious," he ends up saying instead.
Suguru gives him a questioning look, searching Satoru's face with an intensity that makes his insides roll, and then he lets out a sigh like he always does when Satoru asks him stupid questions he doesn't want to answer.
"Yes, if you must know, it's that fucking bad." The remainder of Satoru's shirt buttons come loose, followed by long fingers spreading the shirt open to bare his chest. "Curses are fucking vile, they taste worse than anything you could ever imagine. I'd literally rather eat anything else."
He already knows this, which is why Suguru looks so annoyed even while trailing his fingers over Satoru's stomach, but Satoru still can't imagine hating something so much, but being unable to stop yourself from doing it. He's seen the way Suguru eats them, like he'll die if he doesn't get it down his throat fast enough.
"Anything else?" he asks, and Suguru takes a frustrated breath.
"What the hell is with all the questions, Satoru? Why are you asking shit you already know the answer to? Yes, anything else. I'd rather eat the ass off a slow moving gorilla than eat a fucking curse. Is that good enough for you—?"
"Even me?" he interrupts, suddenly breathless.
"Wha—" There's a pregnant pause as what he just said settles over them, Suguru's brows furrowing in confusion for a split second before he's rolling his eyes.
"Did you really go through all of this to ask if I'd rather suck your dick than eat a curse? You're so fucking childi–"
"No, I'm serious, Suguru." He grabs Suguru's arm and leans up, trying to show him that he's not playing for once. Satoru has never been more serious. "I mean me, eating me, an actual person. Human flesh. Would that be better? What… What do you think I would taste like?"
"I—what… you want me to eat you?" Suguru asks, confused. His focus is centered on Satoru's chest like he's imagining it in ultra HD, taking a bite out of him right there.
Satoru would hate this, how raw he feels right now, how his stomach is in literal knots from not knowing how Suguru will respond. But that's not disgust on Suguru's face, he's not telling Satoru to fuck off or storming out of the room and demanding Satoru never speak to him again. He's not calling him a disgusting freak…
No, Suguru looks… curious.
"Yes." The word feels heavy on his tongue, like a lead weight, like it'll choke him if he swallows right now. "Been thinking about it for weeks." Obsessing over it. Dreaming about it.
"You're… you're sure… really?" Suguru asks, the words a whisper in the air.
"Yes, fuck yes. I've never been more sure of anything… ever." And if that makes him desperate then so be it.
Because Satoru is so hard he's positive every drop of blood in his body has migrated to his dick. Suguru's pupils are blown, his eyes appearing black with the violet iris being swallowed whole. He wants it too, he's just as consumed by it as Satoru is, he can fucking see it.
"There's a knife in my pocket, uh, in—in my jacket pocket." Because they're doing it, god fucking damn it they are really going to do it.
Satoru's heart is pounding, excitement and adrenaline shooting through his veins like heroin. He watches Suguru dig through his blazer to find the pocket knife he's been carrying around, secretly hoping he'd work up the courage to ask for this. It's a short blade, but it's heavy, sturdy. Satoru found it in some shop in the city and bought it before he even registered that he'd picked it up.
Suguru flips the blade open with a quick flick of his wrist and pulls a gasp from the both of them in the process. Suguru's hard too. The bulge stands out between his legs, the outline of his dick drawing Satoru's eye for a split second before it's glued to the knife again.
The silence is heavy, thick with anticipation and the realization of what they're about to do. It's the first time Satoru's been truly speechless, watching Suguru lower the knife to his chest to let the blade's edge rest against his skin, unmoving except for his own heavy breathing.
"I don't want to hurt you," Suguru whispers, eyes trained on Satoru's face while the knife dances along his skin. "But… I wanna try. I feel like… like I need to."
"I do," Satoru responds quickly, too quickly, causing the blade's edge to sink into his pec, a thin line of blood welling in its wake. "I want you to hurt me very, very much. Do it."
Satoru wants him to take a chunk out of him, to see Suguru eat it and watch his throat bob as he swallows it whole. A shudder rips through him at the image: Suguru's blood stained lips and fingers, Satoru's mauled body—because what if Suguru develops a taste for him? What if they both do?
"I told you, I can't stop thinking about it." He pants, hissing out a breath when the knife digs deeper, blood pooling around the shiny surface of the blade. "It's been driving me crazy since that stupid fucking mission and you were joking, god, but I can't stop seeing it every time I close my eyes. I want it, I want it so much."
"I never even considered…" Satoru feels like he's watching Suguru fall into the madness in real time. He's been driving himself crazy for weeks, but Suguru… he's being bombarded with all of it all at once.
"Do it, take a bite out of me." It's the filthiest thing Satoru has ever said out loud.
Suguru doesn't speak, he isn't even looking at Satoru anymore, he's too focused on the crimson rivulets running down Satoru's chest and over his ribs. The flesh parting around the blade, pale on top and pink on the inside. A prime cut of meat.
And then, like lightning strikes the two of them, Suguru pushes the knife deeper, through fat and tissue, and straight into muscle. It hurts, and that word feels lackluster compared to what he's actually feeling. The pain is sharp and suffocating, Satoru left choking on it while Suguru stares down at him like he's discovered something new, something earth shattering.
"Okay," he says, eyes shining with whatever insanity has Satoru just as excited, just as eager. "Okay. I'll give you what you want."
"What we want." Satoru corrects in his next breath, hands holding Suguru's thighs so tightly he knows it'll leave bruises. Neither of them cares, and Suguru grins in answer before making another, more shallow cut just below the first one.
"What we want, then."
There's blood everywhere. Satoru watches it cover his skin, his underwear, the floor, the knife, and Suguru's hands. He sees it, a vivid crimson where it stains Suguru's palms and his own skin, like he's seeing it for the very first time. It's like the color didn't exist until now. It's bright where it's been smeared, and dark, almost black where it's pooling from the row of cuts now lining Satoru's chest.
"Suguru just—"
Satoru jolts as that bloodstained hand claps hard across his mouth, silencing his insistence, his impatience, while overwhelming him with the heady smell of blood.
"Shh, don't rush me, Satoru. Not with this… " Suguru looks… giddy. It's the only word Satoru can think that fits his expression as Suguru drags his fingers over the open cuts, dipping his finger tip into the deeper gash to feel inside before he begins painting Satoru's body with his own blood.
He's covered with it, hand prints and smears of red across pale skin. Satoru can't tell if he's light headed from the feel of Suguru's hands tracing every inch of his body, from the anticipation of what's to come, or from the blood loss. Either way, he doesn't care.
Suguru uses him like a canvas, marking every space with color until the blood begins to cool and grow tacky under his fingers. It darkens as it dries, and when Suguru is finally done Satoru feels high enough to fly away—and Suguru looks hungry.
"Perfect." Suguru hums, and Satoru sucks in a breath when he shifts above him, grinding against his trapped erection. He's still so fucking hard.
It's the sound of the knife being flipped back open, that sudden snap as it locks into place, that sends a tremor through Satoru's body. Suguru gives him no warning, no indication at all that he's about to slice Satoru up again before the knife is back on his chest, just below the first deep cut, and sinking into eager flesh.
"Fucking hell." Satoru chokes around the words, vision whiting out from the pain before he can catch his breath and focus again.
He can see everything.
Satoru looks down, equal parts obsessed and disgusted, as Suguru slides the sharpened edge through fatty tissue to cut a singular piece free.
The perfect bite.
It looks like any other piece of meat. Like when they go out for barbecue or to some random restaurant in the city. It doesn't look special or different—and yet it is.
Because it's a literal piece of Satoru's flesh being held between Suguru's fingers… It's a piece of him that Suguru is looking at with the same open, ravenous hunger Satoru sees just before he swallows a curse.
It happens in slow motion and Satoru realizes, somewhere in the eternity that passes, that this is the longest the two of them have gone without saying a single word. Suguru stares him down as he lifts the bloody flesh to his lips before he swallows it whole.
Satoru waits with bated breath for Suguru's face to morph into the pained expression he always sees after Suguru eats a curse.
"Am I good?" He can't stop himself from asking. He's fucking dizzy with it. He needs to know. "Do I—do I taste good?"
He doesn't know why the answer matters so much, or why he's holding his breath like the blow of rejection will hurt more than the knife Suguru sliced him up with. But Satoru's entire being, his reason for existing, hinges on Suguru's answer.
And as always, Suguru never disappoints.
"You're the best thing I've ever tasted, Satoru." Suguru licks his lips, slow and intentional, as he rocks down against Satoru's dick. "I may just have to take another bite."
"Holy fuck." Everything feels like too much and not enough. Suguru's weight above him, the intensity of his gaze, the way Satoru can't seem to catch his breath when Suguru leans down to run his tongue over the open wound on his chest. He's never been at such a loss for words.
"Holy fuck, Suguru."
He can still feel Suguru's tongue dragging over open flesh and lapping at the blood when he moves down Satoru's body. Suguru doesn't stop even as he works his pants down his legs. He licks at every cut, every inch of ruined skin, and sinks his teeth into the jut of Satoru's hip once he's completely naked on the floor.
Satoru doesn't even flinch at the pain anymore.
"You started this."
Suguru grabs the lube from Satoru's night stand, squirts it messily between them, and then tosses the half empty bottle over his shoulder. It's cold as it leaks down Satoru's balls and over his hole, a welcome sensation when he knows what's going to follow.
His chest is on fire, the blood dried and sticky on his skin, and Satoru groans loud and entirely whore-like as Suguru begins to fuck him open. Its not like their usual fucks, where they play games and fight for control until one of them bends. There isn't an ounce of restraint in the way Suguru bottoms out inside him, or in the way he pins Satoru to the floor, grip painful and vice-like, as he lays his claim.
Satoru feels the pain mix with the pleasure so acutely he can't stop the way his mouth opens, an unabashed moan ready to spill over, only to have Suguru clap his hand over his mouth again.
"Any louder and someone will come looking," Suguru grunts out as his hips snap forward again. "Don't think you want that right now."
There's blood everywhere, and Satoru looks like he's been attacked by a wild animal with how mangled his chest is, so maybe Suguru has a point. But none of that matters when his dick is bouncing between them, smacking his stomach every time Suguru slams home, and Satoru feels so good he's positive no drug in existence could ever amount to this.
So he pants into Suguru's hand, body rocking against the floor, and wants to fucking scream when Suguru suddenly stops out of nowhere.
"What…? Why did you stop?" Satoru whines.
"I'm being selfish, don't you think?" Suguru asks as the knife appears in his hand again, bloodstained and beautiful.
Satoru's heart pounds against his ribcage.
"I shouldn't be the only one allowed to enjoy how good you taste, right?"
The tip of the knife presses just below Satoru's belly button, where the skin is smooth but for the dusting of his happy trail, and Suguru doesn't waste a single second before applying pressure and splitting the flesh in two.
"F-Fuck." Satoru wheezes through gritted teeth. It feels like he's pissed himself, the way the blood begins to run between his legs.
"You know, despite how toned you are," Suguru hums between even drags of the knife, tone matter-of-fact like he's teaching a class and not defiling Satoru's body, "this part of the body naturally carries a layer of fat just beneath the skin. It protects the muscle, you see…"
Suguru goes on, detailing Satoru's anatomy like an artist would a painting—loving and awe struck—all while telling Satoru how pretty he is—or some shit like that. Satoru can't focus on anything other than the searing pain flaring up his torso and over every inch of his body… Well, that, and the fact that his dick is still hard and Suguru is just as hard and still buried balls deep in his ass.
"I bet–motherfucker–I bet it's just de-delicious." The snark is lost in the way Satoru pants like a dog around each word, but Suguru seems to find it amusing anyway.
"Let's find out."
Satoru opens his mouth to question him, or maybe beg Suguru to move because the fullness is beginning to drive him insane, he isn't really sure. Either way, neither of those things happen. Satoru's mouth opens, and the piece of flesh Suguru just cut free gets shoved inside before he can so much as take a breath.
The metallic taste of blood is the first thing he registers as the chunk of meat hits his tongue. Satoru gags on it, jerking hard enough to force Suguru deeper when he begins to rock into Satoru's ass again. He barely registers Suguru's laughter—the too familiar smugness of victory—he barely hears it over the rushing in his ears as he finally swallows the single piece of himself whole.
"Sweeter than candy, aren't you, Satoru?"
It's the manic excitement in Suguru's voice, the sudden rush of pleasure that floods his body when Suguru really starts to lay into him, that makes the overwhelming copper taste turn sugary sweet on Satoru's tongue. He can understand it now, the compulsion, the unshakable urge to devour something so disgusting—because Satoru wants another bite, another piece. He wants to taste himself, bloody and raw, as Suguru fucks him like a cheap whore on his own floor.
Satour yanks Suguru against him, fingers twisting in his once-pristine bun, and pulls him into a heated, blood laced kiss that leaves the two of them rocking desperately against each other.
"Fuck me," he gasps, the increasing friction pulling at the open wounds and making Satoru shake from the pain. "Fuck me harder, Suguru."
He wants to be ruined, fucked as open and gaping as the wounds on his chest. And Suguru gives him that and more. Satoru can feel him everywhere, taste him on his tongue every time Suguru bottoms out with that obscene smacking sound when his pelvis hits Satoru's ass. It'll be good and red from the abuse when they are done.
Every raw drag of Suguru's cock against his rim sends him spiraling, pain and pleasure blending grotesquely until Satoru can't even tell the difference. He grabs onto Suguru's shoulders, nails ripping into skin, and throws himself into every punishing thrust until even Suguru's moans have grown loud enough to fill the room.
It's Satoru who comes first, body arched, mouth open, as he makes an even bigger mess between them. It shoots across his stomach and chest, mixing with the half dried blood to smear wet and pink down his sides when Suguru continues to plow into him, chasing his own end with his eyes glued to Satoru's ruined torso.
He feels it the instant Suguru loses himself.
Satoru's body is still overcome with the pulsing aftershocks of his own orgasm as he lies limp while Suguru uses him. Suguru holds on tight, so tight Satoru imagines the shape of Suguru's fingers imprinted on his bones when it's all said and done. He pins Satoru to the floor as his hips lose their frantic rhythm and starts mumbling unintelligible words against Satoru's lips as he finally comes with a drawn out moan.
Satoru can feel every throb of Suguru's cock, every pulse of cum as it floods his ass, and he lies there and takes it like the reward it is. It's surreal to get exactly what he wanted, right down to the last detail he wasn't even aware he needed until Suguru was shoving it down his throat. He's in pain and his body aches everywhere, including his ass, but Satoru has never felt so good.
"You're heavy," Satoru finally wheezes from under Suguru's weight. He can see Suguru is still trying to collect himself, forehead pressed to Satoru's collarbone, and Satoru can't help but grin when he feels the breathless little chuckle against his skin.
"Shut up." But Suguru begins to carefully peel himself from Satoru's chest with a gentleness that makes his heart thump a little harder. Suguru examines him after, his soft cock still hanging from his open fly while he traces a gentle finger across Satoru's skin, admiring the carnage with the softest expression Satoru has ever seen cross Suguru's face.
"You can use your reverse technique to clean this up, right? Fill in the pieces I cut out of you like putting a yummy puzzle back together?" Suguru suddenly asks. And Satoru nods, mind still buzzing from his orgasm and the puddle of blood he's lying in.
Suguru looks like he's mentally slicing him up and sectioning him off like butchers do to livestock before they're slaughtered.
Satoru shouldn't like that so much.
"Perfect. Now just imagine all the ways I can eat you now, Satoru."
Right, because he wasn't already planning on doing exactly that until the day he dies? But all he ends up saying in response is:
"…or you could show me."