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Sometimes, he wishes he never gave in. Sometimes, he curses himself, curses the voice in his head, curses his own desire and feeble self-control. Sometimes, he wonders if it's him, or if Shinya is that irresistible, if Shinya is just special. But so often, he berates himself, swears in his mind even as he gets lost in pleasure, for ever having done this to Shinya.
He of all people did not deserve this.
None of that stops him from sinking him into the mattress in his bedroom, the desk in his office, a deserted corner in a ruined city, and tear at his clothes, touch the pale skin beneath, tangle his fingers through ashen hair, see the tears wetting colorless eyelashes.
And perhaps that's one of the things that irk him too. One of the things that make the guilt a little worse, a lot worse. That Shinya is white. He is white from head to tow, with the exception of crystalline blue eyes so clear even when a sheen of pleasure and tears masks them. He looks delicate and pure, even though Guren knows he is neither. He knows, has seen it. Has seen cold murder in him, has seen perfect pallor drenched in the blood of enemies that he killed without mercy or regret, with a smile that made him look almost too twisted. He has seen what years of numbly taking the lives of others for his own survival has done to him, has seen the imprint of the Hīragi's abuse left in empty smiles that just barely reach his eyes at times.
But Shinya is also gentle, he is also loyal, he is also lost. He has found light in him, the way Shigure and Mito and Goshi had done too, only he has been a little confused. A little too empty. A little addled with the concept of good and kindness even as he offered it to others so many times, offered them to Guren without a thought. It's perhaps in that sense that Guren sees his purity. In the sense that Shinya did not understand affection, believed pain and despair to be the typical routine of life, had his mentality bent to acknowledge them as such.
Still, he kisses and bites harder. Still, he digs his fingers into unblemished wrists and thighs and hips, leaves bruises in his wake that fade away with time, only to be replaced by new ones, the next time Guren gives in.
Still, Shinya does not resist him.
And maybe that's the worst part of it all. Maybe it will be better, if Shinya refuses him. If he turns away the next time Guren pulls at his hand. If he pushes at his shoulders, kicks him in the ribs, brandishes Byakkomaru and points its barrel to his head. Maybe then Guren could learn, could actually hang on stronger to the shreds of his sanity.
Or maybe it's just his own sick fantasies. Maybe he just wants to see Shinya struggle when he takes him. See terror instead of kindness in his eyes, feel his nails scratch desperately at his arms, hear his voice begging him to let go.
Shinya never does. Guren hates himself more.
The lovely voice in his head continues its sweet lullaby.
Break him. Break him.
And he gives in.
This time, it's his office.
He drags him into the room and Shinya makes a joke about his eagerness that sounds somewhat strained to his ears. Maybe it's because of the crushing grip he has on his wrist. Or maybe it's because Shinya has just gotten back from a mission. Guren doesn't see any reason to stop though.
Or rather, he does. It's there in the clenching of his chest that softens his grip on the other's wrist. It's there in the momentary hesitation to lock the door.
He never listens to it. Never listens to his reason.
He slams him against a wall, almost too hard, and kisses him. Presses their lips together with desperation, with thirst. And he certainly is thirsty, and only Shinya can satiate him. Only Shinya, in the way he responds to the kiss, opens his mouth to let Guren's tongue delve into his mouth, moans when his teeth nip at his lips. His arms reach up, wrapping around his neck, and Guren angles his head, tilts Shinya's back, and deepens the kiss until they're lightheaded from the lack of air, and there's saliva running down Shinya's chin when he pulls back, leaning his head against a wall and pants. Guren looks at him, sees the redness of those swollen lips and the way they look even more exquisite as they contrast with too pale skin.
It's just the beginning. He wants—needs—more than just a kiss.
He attacks his neck next, sealing his lips over the skin, and hears Shinya's moan when he sinks his teeth into it. Hands start to pull at his clothes, fumbles with the buttons messily, and it's in these moments that Guren feels a little better, knowing that Shinya wants this too. That this lust isn't something completely one-sided that he's forcing him into.
The hands pull his uniform jacket off, at the same time that he snaps the buttons of Shinya's shirt, revealing an expanse of naked skin.
"Gu~ren!" Shinya whines, "This is the third time! You can't keep doing tha—Ah!" Guren cuts the sentence when he digs his fingers into his thighs, and rolls his hips against his. Shinya head drops to bury into his shoulder. He could feel him hardening through the fabric of his pants.
Oh, there is still clothes standing in his way. Guren's hand, on it's way to grab his partner's slowly rising erection, changed it's path to grab into his belt, undo it, and let the trousers fall. Underwear and shoes come next, and then Shinya's standing before him, wonderfully naked, a figure of pure white that Guren's about to taint.
His eyes—he can't even tell how they look; are they lustful or just plain terrifying? But maybe they reflect his guilt?—trail from bare feet up to an alluring face. But those fathomless blue eyes it possesses don't look back at him. They're trained aside, avoiding his gaze, shadowed slightly by locks of snowy hair. Shinya's head is tilted, down and to the left.
When Shinya first acted in such way, his only thought had been that he was afraid. That he way terrified. That he could not endure to accept Guren's touch and look him in the eyes at once. But now he knows better. Because he could see the flush of red staining otherwise pale cheeks.
Shinya is not particularly shy. He never bothers to hold back his voice, unless he has to. But in these moments where Guren takes a moment, steps back and just stares at him, he turns away and blushes, flushes bright and avoids his eyes. And it's in those moments where Guren truly feels like a heretic breaking a holy law and touching that which should remain untouched.
The thought is quite funny when he does move forward, places a hand on Shinya's hip and wraps the other one around his shaft, and that seemingly angelic being jerks towards him, falls forward against his body and clings to his sleeves with a gasp.
Guren almost smiles, almost tells him how he's always so sensitive, and then he sees Shinya's shoulder, sees the spotless skin, and has to lean down to suck on it instead.
Bite him. Make him bleed.
His teeth dig into flesh for just a moment before he pulls his head back.
No.
His hand moves faster around Shinya's erection, and he distracts himself with the moans that are breathed against his ear. Shinya's arms move to his neck, wrapping around it as he clings to him. Guren lets his hand slide up to tangle in his hair, pulling his head back to kiss him once more, his tongue forcing its way in, his finger rubbing against the tip of Shinya's erection, and his ears are filled with that strangled whimper as he comes, spilling over his hand.
He steps back until Shinya is forced to let go of his neck. His hands fall on Guren's shoulders, gripping them as he steadies himself on his feet. His head lowers itself once more as Guren stares at him.
He lets out a nervous laugh, "Guren's just standing there and looking at me. What's wrong?"
Guren's silent still, and mentally decides that Shinya's right, there is something strange tonight. He never stands there. It's rarely this slow. Is it because he could still see the imprint of his fingers on Shinya's wrist when he grabbed him in his haste? Is it because he could see the mark he left on his neck?
Or perhaps, it's because he's been a bit gentler lately, just a bit. Maybe it's because some part of him, the part buried inside, the one that's not consumed by her, is telling him that Shinya's precious, Shinya's too precious to be treated badly. Telling him to caress him, to treat him as kindly as he deserves.
He leans forward and sucks hard on that same mark on his throat, and then grabs him by his bruised wrist, pulling him towards the desk at the centre of the office.
He doesn't need those thoughts, not right now. He just needs to drown in his desire.
Yes, drown in pleasure. Drown in me.
He slams Shinya down on the surface harder than he should've, and sees the way he winces. But moonlight is reflected across his bare skin and even amidst the rise of desperate lust, Guren still wonders how someone could be so beautiful.
Stain him.
He descends down and almost tears Shinya's lips with the harshness of his kiss, but all the same Shinya returns it, moans against it, reaches out with his hands and pulls Guren's shirt off. They're both panting by the time Guren pulls away, and he can't wait any longer.
His hands push Shinya's legs apart, and it's only the distant memory of Shinya's pained scream when Guren pushed into him without even a moment of preparation that makes him use his fingers first. He remembers, because that was their first time, Shinya's first time, the first time Guren touched and tainted him. And the memory of Shinya's tear-streaked face as he struggled to smile, his shaking voice as he tried to tell him it was okay, he was just surprised, is enough to push past even the darkness swirling in his mind.
It also makes him remember that Shinya never deserved any pain. Not the ones the Hīragi brought him, not the ones Guren is bringing him now.
His hand slips between his thighs, and he listens to Shinya's gasp when he pushes two of his fingers inside, the long moan that follows it as he begins to move them, slowly stretching the tight flesh. It's a long process, longer than he likes, but he does it anyway, because it also gives him the time to lean down and run his tongue down Shinya's chest, kissing it almost, almost lovingly, his lips shifting to suck afterwards, turning the kisses into bruises left on otherwise spotless skin. Shinya's back arches slightly, and he breathes his name, and that, that is certainly loving. That whisper of his name.
It makes him want to yell, to shout, to scream why. Why?!
His fingers move more roughly, and Shinya whimpers louder.
You don't deserve him. You can't. You're mine.
He grits his teeth. He wants that voice silent. For once, he wants it silent.
But still, you desire him. You desire someone else. Someone other than me. The one you love.
He pulls his fingers out. He can't bear to hear anymore. He has to drown himself.
So, break him. Never give him what he wants. Just take from him what you do. Punish him for making you feel this way.
He pushes Shinya's legs further apart, and then unbuckles his belt. He feels Shinya stiffen as he pulls it down with his underwear, guiding his hardened erection towards his entrance, pressing against him for a moment. He wants to go slowly. He doesn't want to hurt him.
It's all his fault. You're drifting away, Guren. Return to me. Listen to my voice, not his.
He wants to cry.
Instead, he puts his hand over Shinya's mouth, and pushes into him not slowly, not gently, not with kindness. He forces his way inside, harsh and fast. Merciless and unforgiving.
Shinya's cry is muffled against his hand.
Yes, just like that. He deserves more.
He almost doesn't hear. He doesn't want to. So he doesn't. He's able to.
Because it feels so good. This tight heat around him feels so good, too good. He leans forward, taking his hand off Shinya's mouth to seal it with his lips instead, swallowing those melodic moans and whimpers that escape him. His hands move, flattening on the desk as he hooks his elbows underneath the back of Shinya's knees, bending them back and driving into him with abandon. Fast, hard, more. More more more until he has to throw his head back, grunting and panting, hearing Shinya's whines louder than his own.
"Guren," he's almost sobbing, face flushed bright and tears gathered at the corners of his eyes, "Guren."
And Guren grits his teeth because it's still not enough, it could never be enough. So he thrusts harder and harder, feels Shinya's nails dig into his back as his arms reach around him, pulling him down for another kiss. The desk is rocking at this point, and Guren doesn't hear it. He's deaf to everything but the sounds Shinya makes against his neck, his head buried there now.
It grows too much.
He buries himself as deeply as possible inside. He doesn't know who comes first, it doesn't matter. But Shinya's cry was particularly delicious when he does, and Guren bites into his neck as he feels his own seed spilling inside him.
He doesn't know how long he stays like that, bent over Shinya, struggling to even his breathing. It's only when he feels those arms around him go slack that he tilts his head, only to see pale lashes shutting, hiding dazed blue eyes underneath their lids.
Shinya passes out. Breathing slowed to normal, bruised lips slightly parted, face still flushed and sweating a bit.
Guren envies him. He always envies him when he passes out like this. He wishes he could do too, even though he knows the only thing he'll see are nightmares.
He's helpless now. Take his life away.
The voice is already back.
Guren grits his teeth, and forces his gaze to focus on Shinya. To the bruises he left on him, the cum dripping slightly from his abused entrance, the relaxation of his expression.
He thinks of all the trust, all the belief, all the devotion Shinya has for him, and ignores the command.
Instead, he carefully gathers him in his arms, lifting him off the table as gently as possible, and lays him down on the couch. He stands for a moment, fixes his own pants, and then glances to where Shinya's clothes lay in a pile. He almost moves over to take them, intending to put Shinya back into a semi-decent state, and then take him to his room (Guren's, because God knows what the Hīragi will think if Guren shows up with Shinya in his arms this late, clothes wrinkled and all—it wouldn't be caring about their adoptee, but mostly finding something to accuse an Ichinose about), but then he hears the small sound Shinya makes, and his eyes turn to lock on him once more.
He realises that he wants to stay. There, next to Shinya.
So he does. Against his better judgement, he does.
He sits at the end of the couch, leaning back and lifting Shinya's head to settle it on his lap, and continues to stare at him. His hand absentmindedly moves, brushing his fingers through soft strands of white hair, pushing them away from Shinya's face. His hand settles there then, atop the other man's head, giving it a stroke here and there.
Here, with Shinya's head settled on his lap, with Guren's hand caressing him instead of gripping him too hard, touching him indecently, Guren could almost pretend everything's okay. He could almost pretend all the pain he made—still makes—Shinya go through never existed. He could almost bring himself to smile, to lean down and wake Shinya up, whisper in his ear that it was alright, that he won't hurt him again, that he'll make him happy instead.
But he doesn't. He has told Shinya enough lies, has deceived him enough times. He dare not give him false hope too.He won't, not until he has to.
And he knows, that the next time he brings him to his arms, he won't be gentle. He won't caress him as he's doing now. He won't tell him he loves him, even as Shinya does, with words and noises and eyes and touches. Maybe he won't even let him make a sound, maybe he will even whisper her name. He has done those things before.
He smiles. It's bitter and filled with all the hatred he feels for himself.
Still, it's peaceful and quiet, for just a few moments.
Until an anguished cry resounds through his head.
Guren! The voice screeches, and he grunts, pain piercing through his brain, Guren! Are you forgetting me?!
He pulls his hand away from Shinya when he feels his fingertips start to dig into his head. He raises it to his own, brushing them through his hair before fisting in the strands and pulling at them.
Guren… Guren… Guren… Can you even hear me…?
The voice is small now, quiet in despair, and Guren feels his chest clench.
It's always more painful, more frustrating, more maddening when it's like that.
He lets out a shuddering breath, "… I hear you."
Say you love me, Guren.
"I love you."
He obeys readily, but his eyes are locked on Shinya even as he continues to listen to Mahiru's voice, and he doesn't know who those words are meant for anymore.