The sensations of intrusion and complete exposure were overwhelming. And a part of him was simply terrified. Another part, however, a part until now unknown even to himself, reveled in that feeling, gradually abandoning the trembling of his soul, the dread, and adjusting to the overwhelming sensation—drift, deviating, reconverting into something completely new: that feeling of submission and humiliation that had accumulated thick tears of helplessness behind his eyelids minutes before, now returned to him like a weakness that, hidden behind a firm theatrical performance, had always existed with great presence within him, that had filled him to overflowing and that now, inevitably, overflowed from every pore, leaving him completely exposed and naked before Tomohisa. A weakness that was sheltered and comforted, protected and consoled by the harmonious and gentle swaying; by the sublime dizziness he felt with every movement. Tomohisa's member, so beautiful, imposing, straight and beautiful in a way that it could not have been otherwise, existing in the image and likeness of the rest of his body, had been fascinating at first; when his eyes first took in that image, its undeniable beauty and Kazuna's own modesty had caused an eruption of burning blood within him, his face completely dyed in blush; then, that same blood had descended tortuously, like lava, down his body, until Kazuna's own flesh became the reflection of Tomohisa's – with the only difference being that Tomohisa's member was imposing, beautiful and unfairly proportioned, while his own was as mediocre as his own soul. Minutes later – feeling the stinging tension in his own muscles, his body on high alert, his breath caught in his lungs like poison – Tomohisa's beautiful member had become an agonizing torture; As if it were a hot metal bar, opening him up so slowly, so unjustly constant and premeditated: Tomohisa's will and character reflected in each of those agonizing moments, that his stomach had contracted at the impact, at the novelty of that unknown and tremendous sensation. Finally, Tomohisa's tenacity, his incessant advance, his gentle taking hold of Kazuna's virgin, trembling body, of her conflicting emotions, and above all, the omnipresent emotional embrace of her insecurities and fears, of her unshed tears, of her shrunken soul, brought him to total surrender. Tomohisa and his gentleness won him over. And Kazuna surrendered himself body and soul.

And only when she realized this, that she had already surrendered, that the terrible feeling of violation had transformed into what it should have been from the beginning, when she could feel nothing but joy and intense, heightened pleasure, did her fingers, already aching from the tension, release the wrinkled sheets and grasp the lifeline, the omnipotent being that was Tomohisa. They gripped tightly to the flesh of his shapely shoulders, their immaculate skin, which moved measuredly in a gentle back and forth with each of the deliberate, slow thrusts of his hips, hips that rocked with the sole purpose of keeping Kazuna completely surrendered and lying on the sheets, his legs open and his body obediently accepting penetration. And then his lips detached themselves from that unfair and painful tension that had brought them together by sheer force of will, and his voice found freedom, finally managed to be born.

Tomohisa, never ceasing his efficient pace or the gentleness of his manner, witnessing—no, feeling the change in Kazuna, seeing himself accepted at last, allowed himself to fall into weakness, let the emotion he felt at Kazuna's unshed tears, the effect her voice had on him, the deep relief and happiness of feeling her hands firm on his flesh, be reflected in his body, in its language, and a sublime smile appeared on his lips, the fingers of one of his hands, delicate and gentle, more assertive now too, caressed an ear, the golden hair slipping between them.

"Kazu, am I hurting you? Does it still hurt?" Her voice was a heavenly whisper, the sound of a bamboo flute in the middle of the forest.

And Kazuna closed his eyes, letting his neck arch, leaving it exposed, showing himself completely vulnerable. Showing what he was, what Tomohisa had turned him into.

A pause in time, and soon, Tomohisa's warm, gentle lips on his pulse, his well-shaped shoulders crouching, leaning closer to him. His hard, burning member delving into a previously unknown depth, deflowering Kazuna a little more.

The blush on her face, her eyes veiled, her own voice sounding distant and alien.

—N-no…

And in his stupor, in his clouded sense of reason, his heightened senses, pushed to their limits, allowed him to feel: to feel Tomohisa's throat swallow. A slight change in rhythm. One more millimeter of flesh entering him.

"Please," a plea, a pained whisper, "I want to know the truth, Kazu ." His name a reverence; bitter guilt soiling her. "I'm feeling it, I'm feeling every reaction in your body, and I know for certain that you've felt pain. I've hurt you, Kazu, tell me if that's still the case. I beg you."

Guilt, anger with himself, palpable in Tomohisa's otherwise calm, controlled voice. Kazuna felt the fibers of his chest crack, painfully, slowly, almost timidly. A cruel timidity, deliberately cautious, but no less greedy for that. His eyelids fluttered in uncertainty, too comfortable in the darkness, too frightened in the ignorance; they fluttered once more, letting in the light, the image—Tomohisa maintained his unbearable scrutiny, holding eye contact, insistently, without shame; Tomohisa wasn't afraid, not of that, only a veil of agony, of worry, covered that hardness, that primitive assertiveness that reigned deep within his pupils. Tomohisa was snatching away that sacred thing, that unique and unrepeatable thing, without a doubt, without fear or regret. Only knowing he was the tormentor of physical pain caused him grief—and even that hadn't stopped him. Not for a single instant. And Kazuna knew, knew very well, that Tomohisa wouldn't stop, not until the very end, not until he had driven them both to combustion—to self-destruction and rebirth. Tomohisa had made a decision, and he was going to stick to it until the very end.

And even though he didn't want to be pious, even though he didn't want to feel affected by that gaze that tried to possess him, to pierce him and break him, even though his pride longed to remain upright and strong, Kazuna knew he couldn't resist any longer. Not anymore. Tomohisa's pain could never compare to his own—ever; and yet it still hurt in his chest—the guilt in his eyes hurt as much as his member, piercing him so deeply that he felt his soul burn. And since he had already abandoned his pride, since Tomohisa had already stolen practically everything from him, leaving him empty, open, and trembling, with his gentleness and his assertiveness as well, Kazuna felt no shame in abandoning the support of those solid shoulders and bringing the palms of his hands to his elegant, chiseled face, and holding it gently between them, sighing tearfully at the knowledge that he was the architect of the gradual eradication of guilt in his pupils, of the total union of their bodies. Her belly tightened, shocked, at the final abandonment of any shred of power: her body and soul, both at the mercy of Tomohisa's whims. Her virginity already stolen, Tomohisa resting deep within—hard as steel; steel of burning velvet.

"It hurts—it hurts my heart," she sobbed, furrowing her brows, adjusting to the trembling in her belly, to the sudden knowledge that her body was working tirelessly to receive Tomohisa, that it fit him like a glove, eager to hold him—when you look at me like that.

Her fingers trembling on the cheeks of perfect cheekbones.

"Does it scare you that much—that I love you?" he murmured, a sublime smile on his lips; his gaze filled with passion, possession, and pain. "I love you, Kazu, I love you more than anything."

Tomohisa's words were like sharp knives stabbing into her heart, her chest rocking feverishly, roughly, up and down, up and down—as if it wanted to merge with Tomohisa's immaculate skin, as if it wanted to flee from her forever. Her lungs struggling to snatch oxygen, the oxygen fleeing from him—leaving him to die: his eyes burning, his face burning, his chest stinging and burning with pain, with heat, with love. A sob escaped between her lips. A sob that came from the depths of her being. Tomohisa's warm lips, so subtle, so delicate, kissing her temple; drinking from the corner of her eyes the burning pain that escaped in liquid form.

—Tomohisa… Tomohisa —he exhaled, with the last breath of life he had left—with the last drop of oxygen, before combusting. A plea. A call. The veneration of a cursed name. —I..I lo-o-ove you—

Blazing steel impaling his body. A solid hand holding his skull. And burning eyes fixed on his retinas, burning them, keeping them immobile and trapped in that fearsome and brutal spell. And suddenly a wave, a high wave, of icy-cold water, crashed against him; nullifying his senses completely, even robbing him of his very being. Because nothing remained of Kazuna in Kazuna's own hands. Tomohisa's kiss, the saliva from his mouth mixing with his, filling him with himself. Tomohisa's seed pouring into his insides, filling him with himself. And Kazuna stopped feeling. Stopped feeling himself, stopped feeling steel burning inside him, stopped feeling the knives stuck in his pride. Only Tomohisa existed. Only Tomohisa's warmth and love continued to exist. Clouding his mind, his senses, his soul.

And he let himself be loved