Fill for: badbadbathhouse.livejournal.com/846.html?thread=2479438#t2479438
I am kind of craving more Adachi/Souji. Wherein Souji gets topped, hard, as a regular-occurrence kind of thing, and likes it a lot. If anon wants to toss in a little light bondage, OP would not be opposed. >3
And then [December happens. And Souji gets to feel super extra horrified and disgusted when he realizes he was happily letting the killer fuck him for months].
He likes to think it's not all his fault. Adachi set the plate in front of him. Why would he refuse fresh food?
Contrary to what Dojima might say, Souji wasn't born yesterday. So that first night, when Adachi asked Souji to guide him towards their bathroom, the real question wasn't missed. They didn't go very far. But the cum never quite left his tongue.
He had his own questionable turn-ons locked up in some vault of humanity. He wouldn't judge another man. Especially when said man owned the keys to set his own instincts free.
He never had to coax Adachi into whispering against his ear what a worthless slut he could be. Not once did Souji have to mention he loved being treated like a rag doll. He called the little bruises his rewards. Touching such vulnerable flesh in the morning got him hard. Bumping them during the day gave him an opportunity to play hide-and-go-stroke. And by far the best part, was Adachi kissing them.
Every malicious name still repeats itself in his mind. Only, it sounds different knowing he meant each one. He's lucky to have taken pleasure in being thrown. Mayumi probably didn't.
Souji didn't mind paying for the alcohol. Adachi didn't mind drinking it. That was fine, because the man's scent proved way more intoxicating. It clung to his skin too, as long as he didn't bathe. Once, he decided not to shower until the stench was bad enough to interfere with their fucking. That's when Souji pulled him in the shower and instead made them both smell like coconuts.
His nostrils burn now, because he's always at the hospital, surrounded by lives being sterilized.
Sometimes, Adachi just sat on his ass and told Souji what to do. It ended with whatever he wanted-- suck this, pet that, hop on top. But it began with simple command of Stay. From across the room, the touching was done by eye. And if he liked what he saw, Souji got to watch his swollen head disappear into his fist again and again. He thought it was the sexiest thing.
Namatame's head dips into the TV for a few seconds before Souji finds the sense to pull it back.
A single step into Adachi's apartment got him tangled up in caution tape-- the dirty, sticky, chipped kind from old crime scenes. He used handcuffs to keep his arms where he could see them. But those yellow tendrils ensnared everything else-- raised his legs toward the ceiling, braced his body to the table, blocked his face from every angle. To finish things off, ten fingers crawled over his throat and just squeezed.
Once more, his limbs are caught in a web of gold. And maybe the worst part, is that the gun only makes it better.
I am kind of craving more Adachi/Souji. Wherein Souji gets topped, hard, as a regular-occurrence kind of thing, and likes it a lot. If anon wants to toss in a little light bondage, OP would not be opposed. >3
And then [December happens. And Souji gets to feel super extra horrified and disgusted when he realizes he was happily letting the killer fuck him for months].
He likes to think it's not all his fault. Adachi set the plate in front of him. Why would he refuse fresh food?
Contrary to what Dojima might say, Souji wasn't born yesterday. So that first night, when Adachi asked Souji to guide him towards their bathroom, the real question wasn't missed. They didn't go very far. But the cum never quite left his tongue.
He had his own questionable turn-ons locked up in some vault of humanity. He wouldn't judge another man. Especially when said man owned the keys to set his own instincts free.
He never had to coax Adachi into whispering against his ear what a worthless slut he could be. Not once did Souji have to mention he loved being treated like a rag doll. He called the little bruises his rewards. Touching such vulnerable flesh in the morning got him hard. Bumping them during the day gave him an opportunity to play hide-and-go-stroke. And by far the best part, was Adachi kissing them.
Every malicious name still repeats itself in his mind. Only, it sounds different knowing he meant each one. He's lucky to have taken pleasure in being thrown. Mayumi probably didn't.
Souji didn't mind paying for the alcohol. Adachi didn't mind drinking it. That was fine, because the man's scent proved way more intoxicating. It clung to his skin too, as long as he didn't bathe. Once, he decided not to shower until the stench was bad enough to interfere with their fucking. That's when Souji pulled him in the shower and instead made them both smell like coconuts.
His nostrils burn now, because he's always at the hospital, surrounded by lives being sterilized.
Sometimes, Adachi just sat on his ass and told Souji what to do. It ended with whatever he wanted-- suck this, pet that, hop on top. But it began with simple command of Stay. From across the room, the touching was done by eye. And if he liked what he saw, Souji got to watch his swollen head disappear into his fist again and again. He thought it was the sexiest thing.
Namatame's head dips into the TV for a few seconds before Souji finds the sense to pull it back.
A single step into Adachi's apartment got him tangled up in caution tape-- the dirty, sticky, chipped kind from old crime scenes. He used handcuffs to keep his arms where he could see them. But those yellow tendrils ensnared everything else-- raised his legs toward the ceiling, braced his body to the table, blocked his face from every angle. To finish things off, ten fingers crawled over his throat and just squeezed.
Once more, his limbs are caught in a web of gold. And maybe the worst part, is that the gun only makes it better.
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