Chapter Text
The younger versions of themselves have been with them for about a week, and it’s going about as well as anyone could’ve expected.
Which is to say, poorly.
There’s an initial confusion on how to refer to the younger Eito and Takumi and differentiate them from their older selves while speaking. Eventually they reach a consensus, that the younger Eito would be “Aotsuki” and the younger Takumi would be “Sumino”. The older ones would continue to be called informally, by their first names.
Sumino adapts quickly to the strange situation, finding things to keep himself busy and be useful. He seems to avoid Takumi, though, half the time seeing him coming down the corridor and turning around. Maybe it’s still uncanny to interact with himself fifteen years older, battleworn and exhausted. Maybe Sumino doesn’t like to see himself reflected in his haunted eyes.
Aotsuki is slightly more of a nightmare. The first few days he locked himself in his room, refusing to come out. Eito had to pry the door open to bring him food, which he had no logical reason to refuse - he made it himself, after all. He confirmed that his older self looked normal to him, and that he was not, in fact, brainwashed like Aotsuki initially believed. After that, he seemed content to stick to his own devices, and Takumi occasionally caught him slinking around the base.
It’s probably nothing, Takumi tells himself as he watches Aotsuki scurry away from him, caught like a deer in the headlights.
“You should talk to him,” Takumi tells Eito that night, as they eat dinner. Eito had really only learned to adjust to Takumi’s presence while eating, so it wasn’t uncommon for them to share a meal so Eito felt less isolated.
“About what?” Eito asks. He sets down his fork and takes a sip of his water.
“I dunno. I just think he’s freaked out, and maybe hearing your - his? - thought process on what’s going on here and why you haven’t killed all of us would be helpful,” Takumi says. “You’re probably the only person he can trust.”
Eito shrugs. “Maybe. I find it hard to put myself in his mind. I try not to think about what I was like during those days or I feel a profound sense of guilt. We’ve talked about this before.”
We’ve talked about this before, is Takumi’s cue to shut up and change the subject. He fumbles for something else to talk about.
“I forgot how happy you used to look,” Eito says quietly. “Innocent. Seeing Sumino is a good reminder of…” he trails off, somber look on his face.
“Reminder of what?” Takumi asks.
Eito doesn’t say anything. Takumi worries he’s brushed on that sensitive topic by accident, so he keeps his mouth shut too. Their relationship, or lack thereof, is something that they’ve reached an unspoken agreement not to talk about. They were friends. A general and his most trusted advisor. And if Eito sometimes ends up in Takumi’s bed, with Takumi under him begging to be filled, that’s to be expected. It’s not unheard of for wartime comrades to relieve a little stress with each other. It’s a less common occurrence these days anyways, with the final treaty-signing in sight - it’s probably been about a year since the last incident. So it’s not even worth talking about, is it?
Eito finishes his meal, only eating about half of it. Takumi eyes the plate with concern, even as Eito tries to hide it from him.
But, Takumi is silent. He’s already toed the line too much with Eito over the course of dinner and saying anything further would be asking for trouble.
Eito stands, drawing himself up to his full height and stretching a bit. “If anything, you should be the one to talk to him, Takumi. You changed my mind, after all. You might be able to change his.”
And with that, Eito leaves, and Takumi is alone.
“Fuck,” Takumi sighs. He’s lost his appetite too. He returns to his quarters, undresses, and falls asleep.
The next morning he’s woken by a knock on his door. He groans, looking over at his alarm clock. It’s barely seven, who the fuck would be bothering me this early? As he laments his lack of sleep, whoever it is starts pounding on the door even harder.
“I’m coming, I’m coming, just wait a second,” Takumi yawns. He pulls on a shirt, and stumbles into a loose pair of boxers. If it’s any of the usual suspects - Kamyuhn, or Eito - they shouldn’t be too taken aback by his casual dress. They know that when they call on him this early to expect some level of dishevelment. He unlocks his door, wiping the last remnants of drool from his face. “What.”
It’s not Kamyuhn. Or Eito - his Eito, at least. It’s Aotsuki.
“Eito told me to come see you, General Sumino,” Aotsuki says.
Takumi tries not to react in a way that’s extremely obvious. “Did he now?” Nobody actually calls him General Sumino these days. He’s gone out of his way to discourage it. Only one person really calls him that anymore, and Eito only does it to get a rise out of him. “Did he also tell you to call me that?”
Aotsuki shakes his head. “No, I just thought it made sense to call you by your title. Differentiates you from Ugly Takumi.”
“Wow, haven’t heard ‘Ugly Takumi’ in a very long time,” Takumi says under his breath. “Well, come in, I guess.”
Aotsuki follows him into the room. “I can’t stay for long, the stench is going to make me puke. You’re a grown man, when was the last time you washed your sheets? And you really need to make your bed…”
Was this really what Eito was like back then? How did I get through a hundred days without killing this guy? Takumi thinks to himself. He goes to his bed and lazily throws the covers up, and straightens them out. He’s definitely mellowed out.
“Okay, what did you want to talk about?” Takumi asks, as he watches Aotsuki sit politely in one of the chairs in the room, his hands folded in his lap. “I’m assuming Eito wouldn’t tell you to come talk to me about the weather this early. Unless I did something to piss him off.”
Aotsuki fiddles with his gloves. “I wanted to ask you about the future. How hasn’t Eito gone insane surrounded by you freaks? Is this really something that overwrites his disorder?”
Takumi has to think about that before he answers, sitting on the edge of his bed to keep a comfortable distance between them. “It doesn’t overwrite his disorder, I can say that confidently. He still perceives us the way you do.”
“Such a hideous face you make when I’m inside you like this,” Eito sneered, shoving Takumi’s face into the pillow. He dug his fingertips into the meat of Takumi’s hips, pulling him back on his cock. “And the sounds are equally horrendous, but thankfully I can just smother you in the pillow when I get tired of listening to you. Then, when you finally black out, I can keep using your ugly limp body…”
Takumi shakes his head. Why am I thinking about this now? He hopes he isn’t blushing. “It’s just more that he has… an outlet for his hatred of humanity. He wants to help the Futurans and doing so will royally fuck over humanity.”
“Hm.” Aotsuki averts his gaze to the floor. “I guess that makes sense.”
“As for him not going insane, I’ll get back to you on that. Jury’s still out if he’s sane or not,” Takumi says with a laugh. “I think giving his hatred direction was what saved him.”
“Interesting,” Aotsuki mutters. “That’s not… quite what he said.”
Takumi frowns, resting his elbows on his thighs and leaning forward. “If you already talked to Eito, what could you possibly need my input for?”
Aotsuki looks like he’s about to be sick. “It’s just something he said. I wanted to see if you felt the same way as he did.” He stands up abruptly. He studies Takumi’s face with a confused expression, and then rakes his eyes down the rest of Takumi’s body, scrutinizing him.
Takumi feels incredibly naked in that moment.
Seemingly getting what he wanted from this, Aotsuki nods once, firmly, like he’s trying to convince himself of something. He starts towards the door, but Takumi lunges and grabs him by the arm. It’s rougher than he intends and Aotsuki yelps in pain.
“What do you mean, you wanted to see if I felt the same way he did? What did he tell you?” Takumi says, his voice low. When Aotsuki doesn’t answer, he gives him a little shake, and the boy whimpers. Takumi feels a pang of guilt. Yes, Aotsuki is still bigger than him, but Takumi is much older, and an authority figure. He lets go. “Please tell me. What did Eito say to you?”
Aotsuki is trembling. His face is red. “He said that you’re the main reason he’s stayed sane.”
Takumi narrows his eyes, his brain moving a thousand miles a minute. He sits back down. “Really?” Why would he say something like that? Aotsuki’s gonna get the wrong idea…
“Is there something happening between the two of you, General Sumino?” Aotsuki asks, as if he’d read Takumi’s mind. “I would really hope that I would have better taste than fornicating with Ugly Takumi. But I suppose if the pickings are slim and times are desperate…”
“It’s not like that!” Takumi protests. “Fornicating!?”
Aotsuki smirks. That expression really hasn’t changed over the years, smugly superior and gloating. “So you don’t deny there’s something there? Are you just using me for sex? How vile, how truly human of you.”
Takumi hates how insightful Aotsuki is. But, hearing this version of Eito ask if he’s using his older self for sex makes heat pool low in his stomach for reasons he doesn’t want to think about. Aotsuki is cute, in a naive and innocent way that makes Takumi want to throw him to the bed and ravage him here and now.
Stop, stop, what the fuck is wrong with me? Takumi wants to hit himself in the head for even thinking about Aotsuki this way. God, I’m such a fucking creep.
While Takumi is grappling with his inner turmoil, Aotsuki has crossed to the door. “Have a good day, General Sumino. I’ll see you later, I’m sure.” He disappears out the door in a flash of white jacket, and closes it behind him.
Takumi grabs his pillow and screams into it.
He eats dinner with Eito again, as per their custom, but this time the air between them is stale and oppressive. They go through most of their meal without speaking. It’s when Takumi pours himself a second glass of wine that Eito clears his throat and finally talks.
"Did you talk to Aotsuki?” he asks.
Takumi briefly debates leaning over the table to strangle him, but decides against it. “I did,” he responds stiffly. He sets the bottle aside.
"And? How did it go?”
“I want to know exactly what you told him before he came to see me,” Takumi says. “He asked if we were together, you know.”
Eito laughs. It’s a pleasant sound. Takumi has missed it. “All I said was that you’re the main reason I haven’t gone crazy. If he intuited anything about our relationship from something that vague, that’s hardly my fault. He’s a smart boy.”
“You’re complimenting yourself with that.”
“Well yes, I’m also a smart boy, aren’t I?” Eito prods with a grin.
Takumi rolls his eyes. “Yes, you’re a very smart boy, Eito. But I thought we agreed we weren’t going to tell people about what happened between us. I mean, it’s over now, anyways, there’s no point in talking about it.”
Eito pokes something on his plate with his fork, suddenly very interested in his salad.
“I hate when you ignore me like that,” Takumi mumbles, and he takes a gulp from his wine glass. It doesn’t taste good, but he doesn’t drink alcohol for the taste at this point. He sets aside his dirty dishes and watches Eito shuffle greens around on his plate for a few moments without actually eating anything. “Did I upset you somehow?”
“No,” Eito says. He stabs his fork down particularly violently through a small tomato.
“You’re a shitty liar these days. You could learn from Aotsuki,” Takumi says, and immediately regrets it. “I’m sorry, that was mean of me.”
Eito gets up without another word and leaves. Takumi pinches the bridge of his nose as he watches him walk away, kicking himself. So now both Eitos are mad at me. I’ll be very lucky if I wake up alive tomorrow morning at this rate.
He cleans up the mess Eito left behind, downs the rest of his wine, pours himself a third glass which he chugs just as quickly, and goes to make his rounds chatting with the Futuran soldiers in the barracks before returning to his quarters.
Takumi spends a lot of time cleaning his room, Aotsuki’s words nagging in his mind. He takes a long, thorough shower, shaves his face, and heads to bed.
Knocking wakes him up again, this time much earlier than seven in the morning. He looks at his alarm clock and notes with disgust that it’s barely two o’clock.
Takumi gets up, rubbing his eyes. He’s grateful that after yesterday morning, he decided to sleep with clothes on. “This better be important,” he says as he opens the door.
It’s Aotsuki again, and this time he’s holding a pillow and a blanket. His eyes are red and glassy. He’s obviously been crying.
“Oh, Aotsuki. What’s wrong?” he asks, his voice still thick with sleep.
“May I come in?” Aotsuki is hugging the pillow to his chest.
Takumi steps back from the door and allows Aotsuki in, confused. He closes the door and turns on the light. Aotsuki takes a seat in the same chair he’d sat in the morning prior, deliberately not making eye contact. “What’s going on?”
Aotsuki takes a shuddering breath. “Did your Eito ever tell you about our… problem?”
“He has a lot of problems, you’ll have to be a little more specific,” Takumi says dryly.
One corner of Aotsuki’s lips turns up into a half-smile. “The trauma of my condition resulted in some delayed developmental milestones. I, um, took a while to stop wetting the bed. Sorry, this is really embarrassing, I’ve never admitted this before, let alone to someone who is effectively a stranger to me.” He is pointedly not meeting Takumi’s eyes as he continues. “It happened again. I think it’s stress, and I’ve been having night terrors again too.”
Takumi isn’t entirely sure how to react, so he crosses his arms across his chest and lets them sit in uneasy silence, waiting for the younger man to speak. Aotsuki flinches at the movement. He looks up at Takumi, a pitiful expression on his face.
Wordlessly, Takumi crouches down and pulls Aotsuki into an embrace. The boy stiffens at the touch, and then relaxes into Takumi’s arms after a moment. He starts crying again, weeping openly with his face resting against Takumi’s chest. There’s the unmistakable smell of Eito threatening to overwhelm his reason. Takumi absently strokes his hair, the way he’d done for his Eito on a few occasions after he was more desensitized to his touch. He’s surprised when Aotsuki nuzzles into the touch.
Eito did say he was always incredibly touchstarved when he was younger… maybe Aotsuki’s need for comfort is outweighing his disgust right now.
“You can stay here tonight, if it would help,” Takumi says softly, like he’s talking to a particularly skittish animal. “I suppose you don’t want Sumino to know, so it’s not like you can ask him.”
Aotsuki nods. “I can sleep on the floor, but I think having someone familiar and comforting nearby would help.”
Takumi’s hand freezes mid-pet. “Familiar and comforting?”
“There has to be some reason Eito enjoys your presence and trusts you, so you must be comforting to him somehow. And you are familiar, like a more mature Sumino who smells slightly less awful,” Aotsuki says.
“I just washed my sheets after your visit yesterday,” Takumi says. “You don’t have to sleep on the floor.” It’s not a selfless suggestion, and he feels disgusted with himself for even putting it on the table as an option. He can see Aotsuki’s ears are tipped with pink. “If it would help, I wouldn’t mind.”
"Thank you, General Sumino,” he says. “Maybe you’re less repulsive than I thought.”
Takumi can’t tell if Aotsuki is saying it to guilt him, to subtly tell him that he knows Takumi’s dirty thoughts, or if it’s a genuine compliment in his own Aotsuki way. He tries not to think about it. He pats him on the head twice and then stands up. “Alright. It’s two in the morning, and I have early appointments tomorrow. Let’s get to sleep.”
He crawls back into bed, feeling Aotsuki settle next to him on top of the duvet, covering himself with his thin blanket. There’s still a respectable distance between their bodies. Takumi rolls over to face him and laughs a little. “Are you seriously sleeping with your jacket on? You’ll get heatstroke.”
Aotsuki sits up and slides his jacket off, folding it neatly and setting it on the edge of the bed. He’s wearing a thin, long-sleeve undershirt under it, as he used to, that exposes his collarbones. Even in the dark, Takumi can see the sheen of sweat on the boy’s chest. He purses his lips as he watches Aotsuki lay back down and pull the blanket back over him.
“Will you quit staring at me?” Aotsuki says after a moment. Takumi forces himself to look away.
“Hah, sorry. This is just all a little strange, I guess.”
Takumi rolls onto his back again, staring at the ceiling. He’s sure it’s his imagination, but he swears he can feel heat radiating from Aotsuki. He doesn’t think he’ll be able to sleep like this, not with Aotsuki so close to him. After taking a few deep breaths, he forces himself to close his eyes and try to settle.
He thinks he maybe dozes for a few minutes before he hears a timid voice.
“Takumi?”
He sits up and looks over at Aotsuki, caught off-guard by the sudden use of his first name. Aotsuki is resting with his hands folded on his chest. “You good?” He glances over at the clock - it’s been closer to two hours, nearing four now.
“Can’t sleep,” Aotsuki says. “I’m afraid it’s going to happen again. Every time I close my eyes I see the hospital…”
Takumi swallows. He leans over, petting him on the head again. “It’ll be okay.” Aotsuki looks so fragile and sickly, with the blanket hiding all his bulk. He remembers feeling the same way about his Eito, back then, before he knew. He still remembers the shock the first time he saw Eito naked, several years into the war, and was confronted with the fact that Eito could twist him like a pretzel if he wanted to. Which he did do, on multiple occasions later.
“I’m sorry for the imposition,” Aotsuki whispers.
"It’s not a problem, really, Aotsuki,” Takumi says. He scratches his blunt, bitten nails over Aotsuki’s scalp gently, in a way that he knows he likes. It coaxes a moan out of the younger man, and Takumi smiles. “Good boy…”
Aotsuki’s eyes widen in horror. He’s breathing faster.
“Don’t be coy, I know you like that,” Takumi says quietly. “You love being praised.” He leans down and presses a kiss to the top of his head, smelling his shampoo. He must be using the same stuff as Eito… “You love being told how good and perfect you are.” His lips brush Aotsuki’s forehead next. “You’re so good for me…”
He doesn’t go for a kiss on the lips, because he knows that would be pushing his luck. The first time they tried that, his Eito vomited into his mouth. Instead, he leans down further, kissing Aotsuki’s neck, in the one spot he knows he’s most sensitive - right where his jaw meets his neck, right under his ear. Aotsuki keens, writhing under him.
“Y - you vile, perverted, disgusting old man!” Aotsuki shouts, but notably, he doesn’t pull away. Takumi licks a long stripe from Aotsuki’s collarbone, up to his ear, which he nibbles gently. He knows it drives his Eito crazy. It has the same effect on Aotsuki, who immediately goes limp, groaning.
Takumi takes the opportunity to climb on top of Aotsuki, breathing heavily. He feels feverish. Sweat beads and drips down his forehead. He strokes the side of Aotsuki’s face and he preens under the touch. “Look at you,” Takumi croons. “You’re so handsome.”
Aotsuki doesn’t say anything, staring up at him.
“Sometimes when Eito can’t sleep, we do this,” Takumi says. “Puts him right to bed afterwards.” He rests his thumb against Aotsuki’s lips, watching the way his throat works when he swallows. “It hasn’t happened for about a year, though, so I might be a little rusty. Not that you’ll be able to tell, of course. I know I was Eito’s first.”
He wonders, in the back of his mind, if he’d still be doing this if he hadn’t drank at dinner. He’s not drunk by any means, but still feels the slightest, warm buzz of alcohol in his veins. Maybe it’s the wine loosening his tongue, or at least he lets himself believe that.
“Aotsuki,” he says, and his voice comes out whiny. “Won’t you let me do this for you? If you say no, I won’t keep bothering you. Just say you don’t want this, and I’ll stop.”
“I… I,” Aotsuki stammers, looking away. Takumi grabs his face and forcibly turns his head back to face him.
"Look at me when you talk to me,” Takumi says, enjoying the way Aotsuki’s eyelids flutter with shame.
“I’ll do it. I want to know what’s wrong with Eito, that he willingly copulates with something like you,” Aotsuki snarls. “It can’t be that good of an experience.”
With that, Takumi has all the consent he needs, and all the motivation in the world to prove Aotsuki wrong.
He grabs the hem of Aotsuki’s shirt and pulls it off over his head, exposing him. He’s immediately struck by how skinny he looks. Yes, Aotsuki has a lot of muscle, but he’s accustomed to the layer of fat Eito has that softens his appearance. He scooches back and leans down, squeezing one of his pecs with his hand while he laps at the nipple of the other, lavishing it with attention. Aotsuki lets out a little eep of shock, one of his gloved hands grabbing the hair at the back of Takumi’s head and holding him in place.
Takumi chuckles and looks up at Aotsuki. A line of saliva connects his mouth to Aotsuki’s chest. “Can’t be that good of an experience, huh?”
Aotsuki shoves his face back down to his tit instead of letting him continue speaking. Takumi continues his work, feeling the little bud stiffen and peak. He switches to the other side after a moment, giving it the same treatment. Aotsuki is panting under him already.
“I hardly ever masturbated when I was younger,” Eito said once as they were laying in bed, still trying to catch their breaths. “Do you remember how quickly I came the first time you sucked my dick?”
“I do,” Takumi said dryly. “I also remember you coming all over my face.”
Eito laughed. “It really took me a while to build up my stamina. But hey! Now you have a hard time keeping up with me. Speaking of… ready for another round?”
Takumi winced, feeling a dull ache in his ass. “I think I’m gonna be a little bit yet. You’re insatiable.”
“I’ll have to be careful with you,” Takumi says, thinking of that particular memory. “You’re already getting close just from this, hm?”
“Shut up,” Aotsuki moans.
Takumi retreats, digging in his nightstand drawer. “That’s fine, I’ll give you some time to cool off…”
He finds what he’s looking for, shoved in the back of the drawer and buried behind various loose socks. He takes the bottle of lube and opens it, kneeling on the bed after taking off his boxers. “I gotta get myself ready, anyways.”
He pours a generous amount over his hand, reaching behind himself and covering his hole with lube. Aotsuki is watching him with thinly veiled disgust, but it seems like he can’t tear his eyes away, either.
When Takumi finally pushes his finger in, his eyes close and his lips part slightly. He hasn’t done this in a minute and he’s tighter than usual. “Eito usually does this for me,” he says casually. He can hear Aotsuki gag in response, which makes him smirk.
He takes his time, putting on a little show for Aotsuki, riding his hand. The way the younger man is looking at him makes his head spin, and he watches with fascination as Aotsuki reaches down and rubs his own cock.
“Enjoying yourself?” Takumi asks. He’s up to three fingers now, working inside himself hard and fast. Involuntary little gasps sneak out of his mouth.
“Does the Rebellion at large know that General Sumino is a degenerate?” Aotsuki replies. As Takumi watches, he notices that he touches himself exactly the same way Eito does. It’s hypnotic, honestly, to see his movements mirrored on a body he hasn’t seen in fifteen years.
Takumi laughs. “I’m sure they make their own assumptions.”
“Maybe I’ll, ahh, tell them,” Aotsuki says, thrusting up into his hand.
At that, Takumi feels a pit in his stomach. He climbs back on top of Aotsuki and fits both of their cocks in his lube-slick hand, sliding their dicks together. Aotsuki makes a choking sound.
“Reconsider doing that,” Takumi says, his voice stern. Like he’s talking to a child.
Aotsuki nods vigorously. He looks terrified, which is a fun expression combined with his arousal. Takumi wants to see more of that. “Good boy,” he says again, and he can feel Aotsuki’s dick twitch in his hand. “See, you like that… same as Eito. I already know how to push all your buttons.” Aotsuki is bigger than him - it was a point of insecurity at some point, but now it was an object of fascination for Takumi. It feels strange to see it without the shock of silver hair around the base that Eito had started allowing to grow at some point over the last decade. Aotsuki is almost bare, neatly and closely trimmed. He supposes it makes sense, yet another difference between the two of them.
The boy’s noises are starting to pick up in volume again, so Takumi reluctantly lets go.
“I was, ugh, I was getting close,” Aotsuki whines. “You ogre,” he adds for good measure.
"Already? After all that work I did to get myself open, you ungrateful little brat,” Takumi says. He’s not sure why he says that, and it doesn’t feel great when it leaves his mouth. Eito enjoys being spoken down to like that, from time to time, but Eito is a grown man who’s had time to process more of his trauma, versus Aotsuki who has had approximately 100 days for that.
"Brat!?” Aotsuki spits.
Takumi smiles at the indignant look on his face. It’s so… perfectly him, a combination of the Eito he’s had by his side for so long, and the Aotsuki he had back then.
“You look like you’re going to eat me alive,” Aotsuki says, his voice trembling.
“Would you like that?” Takumi asks.
Aotsuki doesn’t say anything, but there’s violence behind his eyes.
“Are we calm now? Can we continue?” Takumi simpers. He takes hold of Aotsuki’s cock again, and this time he guides it into himself.
He thinks he might not have prepped himself enough for a moment, the blunt head feeling like it was going to rip him in half. It had been a long time since he took Eito’s cock, so maybe this was a little ambitious of him. He closes his eyes and takes some deep breaths, feeling it slowly sink in. The stretch burns but it’s something he’s been craving and too afraid to ask Eito for with how tumultuous things between them have been lately. Besides, he needs this to hurt, not just for his own pleasure, but as a reminder of how fucked up what he’s doing is.
Aotsuki, underneath him, seems to be faring about the same. His fingers are digging into the duvet, looking up at Takumi through his thick eyelashes. His mouth is hanging open with drool spilling out of the corner of his lips.
“Fuck, you fill me up perfectly,” Takumi says, once Aotsuki is fully inside him. He leans forward, planting his hands on Aotsuki’s chest. He knows exactly how to position himself so that every move hits his prostate, so he does exactly that. He starts riding Aotsuki slowly.
Aotsuki stammers a few syllables that Takumi can’t decipher, fucking up into him with clumsy movements. Takumi is tight and hot and squeezing his cock in a way he’s never felt. The monstrous form above him is staring at him with those horribly intense blue eyes, watching his every move like a predator stalking a prey animal. He’s incredibly overstimulated between the normal sights and smells of being near a human, and the additional stimuli of sex. He feels frozen to the spot as Takumi uses him, pleasure unlike anything he’s experienced before a very effective set of restraints.
The slow pace is mostly to ensure Aotsuki doesn’t finish immediately, and it seems to pay off. Gradually, Takumi speeds up, ignoring the protest in his knees at the faster movement. I’m really not as young as I used to be, I guess, he thinks bitterly. He slams himself down a few particularly hard times just to hear the delicious, pathetic mewls it drags out of Aotsuki.
“I want to hear you beg for it,” Takumi says, leaning down closer to Aotsuki’s face. It’s difficult with their height difference, but that doesn’t stop him.
Aotsuki sounds out-of-breath when he answers. “B-beg for what?”
“For the privilege of finishing in me,” Takumi replies. He’s power-tripping and he knows it. Some long dormant part of him has woken up at seeing Aotsuki so pliant and scared, a part of him that he’s barely accessed since he first asked Eito to take control in bed, to have someone else take responsibility for once. His Eito still loved being praised and had a masochistic streak a mile wide, of course, but Takumi showered him with praise every chance he got anyways and Eito rarely chose to indulge his masochism these days. Aotsuki’s pupils are huge - arousal or fear, Takumi can’t say for sure, but it’s a good look on him regardless. The fact that Aotsuki hasn’t physically overpowered him, as he could do easily if he wanted to, tells Takumi enough about Aotsuki’s enjoyment of what’s happening.
"I’m not begging you for anything,” Aotsuki says. He groans, fist curling in the duvet again. “You should be the one begging me not to tell anyone about your perversions.”
Takumi stops moving again, a smile crossing his face. “You’d like that, wouldn’t you? Eito likes making me beg, too. Although usually it’s for other things, of course.” He traces a hand down Aotsuki’s neck, watching him shudder.
Aotsuki digs his knees into Takumi’s sides and rolls on top of him, still inside. “You disgusting, ugly waste of air,” he seethes. He wraps his gloved hands around Takumi’s neck, the web between his thumbs and index fingers crushing his windpipe. He fucks into Takumi fast and hard, his movements awkward and uncoordinated. Clearly, he’s focused more on strangling Takumi than chasing his own pleasure. “Maybe you should beg for your life.” He smiles, lopsided and crazed, a smile Takumi hasn’t seen in close to fifteen years. “If you can before you pass out, that is. Make an effort. Put on a show for me, General Sumino.”
"Eito, please,” Takumi whined, guiding Eito’s hand to his throat. They were still clothed - it was too cold in their tent on the defensive front to get naked - but they were rutting against each other desperately, both crammed into Eito’s sleeping bag. The initial pretense of ‘it’s for warmth’ was long since forgotten, not that Eito ever believed it. Takumi’s request made Eito stop moving, as much as he hated to lose the friction between them.
He held his neck loosely, a confused look on his face. “Really? You want me to choke you?”
Takumi nodded. “I do,” he admitted, “I’ve wanted it for a while.”
Eito was quiet, clearly considering. He flexed his hand tentatively. “May I confess something?”
“Of course, you can tell me anything,” Takumi said, too quickly.
Eito took a deep breath. “Back then… and before we started with our current arrangement, I often choked you in my dreams.” He ran a finger across Takumi’s throat, tracing it like he was marking a line to cut. Takumi shivered. Eito closed his hand, digging his fingertips into the arteries buried at the sides. He grinned as Takumi choked.
Maybe the Eitos aren’t that different after all.
Takumi stares up at him as his vision gets fuzzy. “P - please, Aotsuki,” he wheezes, spittle bubbling out of his mouth. He’s getting close, and Aotsuki’s rough treatment is just making the inevitable faster.
“Please, what?” Aotsuki hisses.
He’s not sure what Aotsuki wants to hear. Maybe that’s exactly the point - Takumi will beg incorrectly and Aotsuki will choke him to death. If this was his Eito, he would be begging for permission to cum or for Eito to breed him. He’s pretty sure neither of those things would sate Aotsuki in the slightest.
So instead, as his vision starts going dark and his body starts feeling numb, he chokes out “Please don’t kill me, Aotsuki!”
The hands on his throat loosen and Takumi takes frantic, gasping breaths. Aotsuki’s face comes back into focus, and he looks absolutely mortified.
It’s at that point Takumi realizes he came at some point while Aotsuki was strangling him. At the same time, he realizes Aotsuki has gone still inside him, save the throbbing of his cock. He came too, Takumi thinks, dazed. He recognizes the look on Aotsuki’s face and starts trying to squirm out of his grasp. “No, no, don’t throw up on me, the bed is fine -“
He doesn’t move in time. Aotsuki vomits on his chest. It’s a small amount, mostly bile - he clearly hasn’t eaten anything for a while - and he wipes it off himself with the duvet cover. It’s not the first time Eito Aotsuki has puked on him and it certainly won’t be the last, so all he can really bring himself to feel is vague indifference.
"Bathroom’s over there,” he mutters.
Aotsuki pulls out of him and scampers off towards the shower. Takumi feels gross, too, but he can only imagine what Aotsuki feels like right now, so he lets him go first. He resists the urge to fall asleep, as he usually does after sex while Eito scrubs himself raw in the bath. Instead, he strips his bed and throws the vomit-covered duvet into his hamper, wiping himself down with it for good measure. Everything smells bad - sex, gastrointestinal fluids, sweat. He looks at his clock and groans. It’s nearly five-thirty, and he has an hour and a half until his first meeting of the day. Trying to sleep now would be pointless.
At around six, he finally hears the water shut off. Aotsuki walks out of the bathroom bundled in a towel, starts retrieving his clothes and getting dressed. Takumi doesn’t watch, afraid that any eye contact will set him off like a wild animal again.
“You won’t… tell anyone about this, right?” Aotsuki asks as he zips up his jacket. His voice is hoarse and fragile-sounding.
I would be incredibly fucking stupid if I did that, Takumi thinks. “Of course not,” he says instead.
“I think Eito would get mad,” Aotsuki says, rather cryptically, as he folds his blanket back up. He sets it at the foot of Takumi’s bed along with his pillow.
“He would kill me without hesitation,” Takumi agrees.
Aotsuki stares at him, furrowing his brows. And then he turns on his heels and leaves.
Takumi sighs. He’s got a busy day and he’s not sure when he’ll have time to do laundry. He smacks his head against the wall a few times before going to the bathroom to clean up and get ready for the long day ahead of him.