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“You’re sure this is the kid, Zashi?” Oboro leans down, peering into Izuku’s eyes before turning back to his partner. “Looks kinda scrawny to me.”
Izuku shakes his head vehemently, mumbling as best he can around the gag in his mouth. I’m not the kid. I swear. I’m not the kid. I’m not even a kid so, I can’t be the kid... He’s almost certain that he’s never seen either of these men before and that he doesn’t know why they’ve taken him. He wants to tell them that this must all be a big misunderstanding but neither man pays him any attention, except to grip his arm tighter when he tries to stop the relentless forward march down the long hall of wherever he is.
“Yeah. He doesn’t look much like his father, but he’s a dead-ringer for his mother.” Hizashi chuckles softly. “She’s a pretty little thing. Put up with all his shit too. Hisashi’s an idiot for leaving her.”
Mom!
Izuku digs his heals in, trying his best to get the men to listen to him. Sure, his father has many flaws, but Hisashi would never leave them. He’s just on a business trip. Izuku knows that if can just get them to understand that, then maybe they’ll see how this was all just some big mix up.
The hands on his arms grow tighter, yanking him forward so far that he nearly topples over. His whole body tenses as he prepares for an impact that never comes. Neither of the men miss a beat – fingers digging bruisingly into soft flesh of Izuku’s arms and pulling him upright before his face can smash into the ground. The move sends a deep wave of pain rocketing from his shoulders to his wrist.
“Easy, kid,” Oboro chuckles, patting Izuku’s back and holding his arm until the boy gets his bearings. “Just be quiet for a bit and this’ll all be over before you know it.”
Izuku’s heart feels like it’s going to pound out of his chest, but he forces a small nod and tries his best to keep pace with the men’s longer strides. He prays to every god he knows that maybe his boss had seen them grab him outside the store, that maybe Toshinori had called the police and that someone was looking for him already.
He scrunches his eyes together and tries to push past the fuzzy haze in his mind to those last moments before he’d been taken. He remembers hanging up his apron, waving goodbye to Toshinori and stepping out into the cold. He remembers lamenting having forgotten his jacket at home and looking at his watch to see if he could catch the next train. He remembers… crossing the small, dark alleyway between the shop at the next building.
No… I got too far. It’s unlikely that Toshinori could have seen me.
Tears are welling up in his eyes and Izuku tries to blink them away. He tells himself that there has to be some hope, that someone had to have seen them. It wasn’t every day that two thugs in ripped jeans and leather jackets mugged a nineteen-year-old in an alleyway.
It wasn’t so late that the streets were empty. Even if it was a bad neighborhood, someone had to call the police. Right? He knows he had to have cried out from the blow. Right? Maybe… Maybe someone heard me. Izuku tells himself that he believes that, but the knot in his stomach only grows tighter the further he follows his shaky memories.
Whatever they’d hit him over the head with had knocked him out cold. He’d woken up in darkness, bound and gagged and quickly deduced that he was in the trunk of a car while it was still moving. He had kicked and shouted, but nothing had budged, and no one had come to help. When the car finally stopped and the two men pulled him out, he found himself blinking up into the bright lights of an underground parking lot.
And that had brought Izuku here; into this maze of windowless corridors with nothing to tell him where he was or indicate that anyone would even be around to help him if he managed to get away from his assailants. He’s still pondering the possibility of escape, and the potentially severe consequences of trying, when they drag him into a dimly lit room and shove him to his knees.
Oboro squats down in front of him, brushing the unruly green curls out of his eyes and then tapping the thick fabric in Izuku’s mouth. “Not a word or I slit your throat. Understood?”
Izuku nods slowly, wetting his lips when the gag is finally pulled from his mouth. “Please, I didn’t–”
“Ah, ah.” Hizashi leans over Izuku’s shoulder, waving a knife in his face. “Save it for the boss.”
The knife trails down the back of his arm out of sight and Izuku is overwhelmed with images of dying, of being left cut open and dumped in some river, his mother never knowing what happened to him. Tears are streaming down his face and mumbling silent prayers as cold metal continues to drift over his skin and down to his wrists.
His arms had been bound so tightly behind him for so long that his whole upper body had started to ache. Now with the threat of death looming over him, he can barely feel the pain. Hizashi drags the knife delicately across his palms and Izuku scrunches his eyes closed. The ropes on his wrist grow tighter, pinching the delicate freckled skin there painfully and then his arm free. Izuku stares down at his hands, confused and teary-eyed, unsure of what’s going on.
“It’s in your best interest to be quiet and not to touch anything, yeah? Shouta is very particular about his stuff.” Oboro ruffles the hair on his head. His breath smells like smoke and Izuku can’t help the way his nose wrinkles up. His father always smells like smoke and his mother is always complaining about it.
When he nods, he’s pulled to his feet and led over to a small couch. They leave him, not even locking the door behind them and somehow, that makes him even more scared. He wipes his eyes and fully takes in the room around him. The room is furnished like an office with an expensive looking desk, scenic landscape paintings, and a high-end liquor cabinet off to the side. The couch he’s sitting on is plush and made of soft, dark leather.
Part of him wants to check the cabinet and desk for weapons. He even glances at the door to make sure it’s still shut before standing. He waffles with indecision for a long time, before hesitantly reaching out and trailing his fingers over the knob of the cabinet door. Just open it. No one will know. How could they? Oh gods… What if they have a camera in here? Oh, gods… I’ve already touched the knob. Are they gonna kill me over that? Wait… That doesn’t make any sense except if they wanted to teach me a lesson. Wouldn’t be much of a lesson if I’m dead. But, maybe if…
“Snap out of it, Izuku.” His own frightened voice startles him out of his spiraling thoughts, and he retreats back to the couch and sits down.
He can hear voices out in the hallway – Oboro, Hizashi, and a third one that he doesn’t recognize, one he assumes to be Shouta. He keeps his eyes pinned to the door and his hands in his lap, twisting his fingers around and wringing his wrists until, finally, it opens.
The man who walks in doesn’t look much like Hizashi and Oboro. He looks more like a businessman than a low-level thug. His suit is dark and perfectly pressed and when Shouta sits next to him, Izuku finds that he smells better too – like laundry soap and mint toothpaste.
“Are you gonna kill me?” Izuku doesn’t know why he says it; it just kind of comes out and once it does there’s no taking it back. He stares down at his hands, unable to look at the man’s face.
“Kill you? Is that what they made you think?” Shouta gets up and goes to the cabinet. Izuku watches him as he pours two glasses of dark, amber liquid. He returns to the couch, handing one to Izuku and sipping his own before speaking again. “No, I’m not going to kill you. We’re going to have a discussion about your father and then you’re going to have to make a choice.”
“M– my father?”
Shouta hums softly in response, tipping his cup towards Izuku – silently urging him to drink. When he does, the rich, spicy liquid burns his throat and steals his breath. It leaves his head feeling an odd, warm kind of fuzzy.
“I don’t know if you’re aware of your father’s gambling problem or if your mother kept you sheltered from that. Either way, you’re old enough to know that. Old enough to understand that he’s run away from the inevitable.” Shouta swallows down the rest of his glass and sets it on the table before leaning back in his seat. “Your father owes me a lot of money, Izuku.”
Izuku shakes his head vehemently, clutching his own glass tightly in his hands. “No, he’s not gone. He’s just on a–”
“A business trip? Be back in a week or so?” Shouta pulls the glass from Izuku’s hands and sets it down next to his own before brushing an errant curl behind Izuku’s ear. “You’re smarter than that, aren’t you Izuku?”
He ran away because he couldn’t pay his debts… Because this man was going to kill him.
Izuku wants to deny it, but he’d seen the sadness in his mother’s eyes when she’d told him that his father had gone away for a bit. He’d caught her crying over a pile of bills. That’s why he’d taken the extra shift tonight at Toshinori’s – so he could help her pay for groceries. He wonders if she’s home to worry about him or if she’d picked up more hours at the factory tonight as well.
“We don’t have any money.”
“I know.” Shouta sighs softly, spreading his legs wider and getting comfortable. “Even before he ran off on you it was hard, wasn’t it? Living paycheck to paycheck. Having to quit college to come home and help support your mom. Working so hard and watching him squander it…”
“I guess.” Izuku shrugs, trying his best to ignore the hand that’s now fallen on his back and is rubbing slow circles on his aching shoulder.
“What if it didn’t have to be like that?” Shouta’s hand drifts up to the back of Izuku’s neck, thumb slowly brushing over the delicate hairs at his nape. “What if there was a way for you to pay off the debt your father owes and make things a bit easier on your mom? Maybe even have enough to go back to college?”
Izuku knows that it sounds too good to be true, that something like that must come at a price, but still he asks. “What– what would I have to do?”
Shouta hums softly, not quite acknowledging his question. The hand on the back of his neck grows firmer, guiding him closer until Shouta’s soft lips are brushing against his own. Izuku’s eyes flutter closed and a warm feeling begins to settle in his belly. He can do this, can’t he? He kisses Shouta back, letting the man’s tongue push into his mouth and taste him. All too soon, Izuku finds himself laid back on the couch with Shouta on top of him, large, rough hands running up his shirt and Izuku panics.
His fingers fist in the soft fabric of Shouta’s shirt and he’s pushing the man off him and crossing the room. His heart is pounding in his chest. It feels like he’s suffocating in this room with no escape. “I can’t…”
“It’s okay. Shhh… No, it’s okay.” Strong arms wrap around his waist. Shouta’s fingers card up into his hair, tugging gently on unruly green curls. He presses a kiss to Izuku’s neck, warm breath ghosting over the sensitive, flushed skin there. “I get it. You’re what, eighteen? Nineteen? Probably never even let another boy touch you like this, have you? But the thing is, Izuku…”
Shouta’s hand trails lower, dipping between Izuku’s thighs and gently squeezing the flesh there before coming up the wrap around his throat. He doesn’t squeeze, but Izuku gasps all the same. “The thing is, that someone needs to work off your father’s debt to me.”
A soft whine escapes Izuku’s lips at the man’s words. He understands the implications: if you won’t do it, your mother will. He isn’t sure he could ever forgive himself if he didn’t protect his mother. “Okay.”
“Okay?”
Izuku turns to face Shouta, even though he can’t bring himself to look up into those dark eyes, he knows that they’re watching his every move. He toys with the hem of his shirt for a moment before lifting it over his head. He’s not sure if he should fold it and set it down or just drop it to the floor. He’s still pondering that odd, errant thought when Shouta’s fingers begin trailing over his chest. They trace over the scars on his chest and then dip down to tug open the button on his jeans.
Shouta slips them, and his panties, down past Izuku’s hips and then he’s left to awkwardly wiggle out of his shoes and step out of his pants without falling. The man watches him, patiently waiting until Izuku is laid bare before him. He tries to cover himself with his hands, but they’re brushed away. Shouta’s fingers dip down between Izuku’s thighs, rubbing at the small dick peeking out between his folds and then slowly sinking inside him.
Izuku flushes red down to his chest at the feeling of someone else touching him how he’d only ever done on desperate nights alone in his room – on nights when the friction of his panties seemed too much and yet not enough and no amount of grinding against his pillow could relieve that mounting tension. Always needing more…
Shouta pulls Izuku to the desk, effortlessly lifting him up and setting him on the edge. He pushes plush, freckled thighs open until he has a perfect view of Izuku’s pussy, already slick and ready for him. He trails a finger between wet folds, letting the tip flick teasingly against Izuku’s clit before drawing it into his mouth.
“Already so wet…” Shouta sucks the clear fluid, humming appreciatively, before stepping between Izuku’s thighs and kissing him again. “Touch yourself for me.”
Izuku starts hesitantly using his hand more to cover himself than anything else, but he can see the bored frustration building in Shouta’s eyes. He leans back, getting more comfortable and then slowly sinks two fingers deep inside himself. He crooks them, rubbing along the velvety walls of his insides for a moment before dragging them up alongside his clit.
He closes his eyes and pretends that he’s at home, sitting on his own desk and not some strange man’s. He imagines the regular that comes into the store every Friday and flirts with him. He can feel the warmth beginning to coil in his gut as he loses himself in the fantasy. He lets strong hands lay him back and trail down the length of his chest. Shouta’s wet tongue flicks over a sensitive nipple while rolling the other between his fingers and Izuku pretends it’s someone else. Sharp teeth clamp down on his skin, sucking a deep purple mark just above one of his scars.
“Ah!” Izuku whimpers, knees jerking upward and tightening around the man’s waist.
“Relax.” Shouta’s lips ghosts over Izuku’s flushed skin as he licks and nips his way down. “That’s it; be a good boy for me.”
Izuku ignores the words and focuses on that warm feeling building inside him. He trails his fingers down to wet them again and rubs his clit faster. He tries to bite back the moans, but he knows they’re slipping out – little huffs of breath and small whines when the feeling shifts and he has to start again. He finds a good rhythm – palm grinding against his clit when he wets his fingers and then those fast, frantic circles.
“So pretty and wet...”
Izuku tells himself that it’s fine, that he’s fine, but when warm breath meets the wet skin of his pussy he panics and tries to pull away. “Wait!”
Shouta growls, grabbing his wrist in a bruising grip and guiding Izuku’s fingers back to his clit. “I didn’t tell you to stop.”
The man doesn’t move until Izuku’s fingers begin to. You can do this… He closes his eyes and starts slow again, hesitantly pulling on his clit and rubbing circles just above it. He’s still so close. Feels so needy. Izuku closes his eyes and tries to lose himself to the fantasy of the boy from the store. He imagines the young man, built not unlike Shouta, leaning over him and kissing his stomach, nipping along the dip where his thigh meets his hip and then…
Long, slender fingers sink deep into his cunt, squelching in the slick. He can feel wetness being forced out with each thrust, leaking down between his cheeks and pooling beneath him. Izuku moans softly, back arching off the desk as he’s pushed closer to the edge of orgasm.
“You’re so beautiful.”
Izuku keens at the words, fingers rubbing faster – moving in tandem with Shouta’s until that coil in his gut snaps. He cums hard, legs trembling and trying to close like a vice around the man’s waist. He lays there breathless and panting and riding the high of his orgasm until he hears the soft slide of a zipper. He tries to sit up, to protest, but Shouta pushes him down easily.
“Mmm… Don’t do that.” Shouta pins his arms above his head with one hand and grabs his throat with the other.
Shouta presses a brutal kiss to his lips and Izuku lets him. He doesn’t fight it. He lets the man claim his mouth. Lets those strong, rough hands grab his thighs and spread them wider. He tells himself that he’s doing this to keep his mom safe, but he moans like a whore the first time Shouta’s cock sinks into him.
It stretches him, filling him so perfectly as it splits him open. Shouta is brutal, fucking into him hard and fast – pounding his cunt until the squelching sounds rival Izuku’s sobs. Shouta licks at the tears streaming down his face.
“Sucking me in so well and– fuck! Squeezing me so tight.” Shouta presses down against Izuku, taking one pert nipple in his mouth and sucking hard.
And just when he thinks it can’t get any worse, those rough calloused fingers slip between their bodies and begin to rub at his clit. Shouta had been paying attention while Izuku had touched himself and now he mirrors those movements. He rubs just right, quickly bringing Izuku to the edge and keeping him there.
“You like when I touch you there, kitten?” Shouta digs his knuckles against Izuku’s clit, and fucks into him harder.
Shouta drags his teeth over the sensitive bud, biting down on the dark flesh around it until Izuku cries more of those sweet tears for him to lick up. He grunts and groans and tells Izuku how pretty he looks with tears streaming down that beautiful, freckled face of his.
“Please…” Izuku mewls softly, hips arching into the man’s touch. “Please, please, please…”
Izuku doesn’t know if he’s begging for more or for the man to stop, but he moans all the same as Shouta finally pushes him over the edge. His orgasm moves through him like lightning, pulling a loud high-pitched moan as he squirts all over Shouta’s dick. The man doesn’t last much longer, thrusting into him only a few more times before his hips stutter and he’s painting Izuku’s insides white with hot cum.
As Izuku starts to come down from that high, his mind goes into overdrive. It’s over. I did it. Mom is safe and it’s over and I can go home and I’ll never have to look at him again. He can feel himself sobbing, his shoulders shaking, body trembling uncontrollably between the desk beneath him and Shouta’s body above him.
“So perfect for me. You’re so beautiful when you’re crying on my cock.” Shouta brushes sweat-damp green curls out of Izuku’s face. His cock is still buried deep in Izuku’s cunt, pulsing softly as he shifts, pulling Izuku up to cradle him against his chest. “Maybe next time we’ll see what that pretty mouth of yours can do.”
Next time?
Izuku swears that his heart seizes up in his chest at the man’s words. He pulls back to look up into onyx eyes. “N–next time?”
Shouta chuckles darkly before pressing another soft kiss to Izuku’s lips. “Surely, you didn’t think you’d worked off your father’s debt already.”