FIC FOR JE_LEVY
For: je_levy
From: holly_berri
Title: Those Invisible Lines
Pairings/Characters: Koki/Ueda
Rating: NC-17
Warnings: Kidnapping, mentally unbalanced Ueda, some dub-con, manipulation and general mind fuckery, Stockholm Syndrome
Notes: Levy! :D This was so much fun to write, you have no idea. Sorry for any vagueness or nonsensical plot - I hope you like it! >.< And thanks so much to R., my amazing beta and hand holder.
Summary: Some lines are blurred easier than others, but it’s the ones that you can’t see that you really have to watch out for.
The last thing he remembers is the anxious face of the man who had been sitting in the seat next to him - his bitten and sore looking lower lip firmly caught between his teeth and widening eyes glinting blue black under the lights. The man is asking him something, Koki thinks fuzzily, because his lips are moving now; they’re framing a worried question that he, for some strange reason, can’t hear anymore. It’s like swimming through a fog, noises fading and everything else blurring together. He feels the jolting hardness of the train’s floor under him a second later, but doesn’t have time to wonder how he ended up on the ground before the world blinks and shudders. Everything is swallowed whole by grayness, and it takes an unresisting Koki with it.
- - -
The first thing that Koki notices when he wakes up is that he can’t see anything - not even the comforting fog that had pulled him down before, and it takes a while to realize that he’s immersed in complete darkness. He blinks and tries to open his eyes, but he must be more out of it than he realizes, because somehow can’t seem to manage to convince his eyelids to lift high enough to see. The darkness remains, annoying and blank.
Koki sighs, sensation not quite returning to his body yet. He’s tired; tired of sleeping and tired of feeling confused. Whatever the hell it was that he ate before dinner - ramen and peanut butter, damn if he was ever going near anything that Taguchi cooked for him ever again - has been playing havoc on his dreams and Koki grumbles, suddenly feeling the beginnings of headache throbbing behind his eyelids. He goes to sit, eyes still half shut; the only thing on his mind being a glass of water and say, about a bottle or so of aspirin. Only to be yanked back viciously by what feels like thick ropes binding his wrists.
Koki falls back to the bed, landing heavily on pillows that he realizes with an acute sense of terror are too thick and small to be his. He yells hoarsely, jerking against the restraints as any remaining sleepiness washes away and undiluted fright slinks into its’ place.
He’s tied; tied to a bed that isn’t his and it’s dark because he can’t see because there is a fucking blindfold wrapped around his eyes. A smothering wave of panic swamps over him, huge and unforgiving and Koki can’t help it, he screams.
The sound echoes shrilly around the room, bouncing off the invisible walls and the shadowed window panes. It dies down quickly, leaving an empty silence that has his heart racing faster than ever and another terror stricken cry ripping its’ way out of his chest just to fill the cruel, lightless silence. He’s thrashing by now, dull ropes searing red, bruising marks that Koki won’t ever be able to see into his pale wrists. He’s on top of a bed with the thickness of the comforter lying uncomfortably under him, and it bunches up near his hips and tangles itself in his legs as he struggles. In the dark, it feels like hands crawling up his skin and twining themselves around him; their soft, damp palms rubbing and brushing over his jeans and sockless feet. Koki shudders, his voice breaking and giving out to a panting, dry throated agony of quiet.
It’s dark, so dark; how can it possibly be so goddamn dark? Thoughts are racing around in circles in Koki’s head, each one more frantic and panic driven than the last. He has no idea where he is, why or how he got here and Koki’s nearly crying by this point. Some dim, pessimistic corner of mind tells him that if no one had come to check on him after all that pathetic screaming then there was less than a zero percent of a chance than someone, anyone, had heard him.
And that he could just forget about getting rescued - no one knew he was here, and at this rate no one was ever going to find out. He’d end up being one of those nameless disappearances that you hear about on the news everyday and they’d put little flyers with tacky mug shots of his face at police stations, like they did for runaway children and serial killers and prison escapees. ‘Have you seen this person?’ ... Only no one would, no one ever would, because he was tied up and abandoned here all alone and just, fuck.
Koki shouts again, voice sounding like someone had run nails up and down his throat, and bucks against the rope again. He can feel the skin around his wrists breaking and swelling with cold, black blood that runs in skinny rivulets over his twisted fingers, and all a while his struggles grow slower. He’s been running on little to no sleep for the past week but it feels more like a month, and he’s exhausted - and just about frightened out of his mind.
This type of stuff, it just, doesn’t happen. Not to normal, reasonable happy people like him - the very idea of getting kidnapped is ridiculous. But yet, here he is. He groans loudly in frustration and tries to kick blanket off him, nearly missing the tell tale thumping outside of the distant door.
Koki goes stock still, wrists dangling limply and breathing loudly through his open mouth. It’s footsteps, that much he knows. And they’re close; close enough that he can distinguish the individual noises of each noisily clad foot against as they clatter down what sounds like stairs. The person, they’re just outside the door now, because Koki can hear the small slip and slide of a key being turned and a doorknob being roughly manhandled.
Before he can so much as brace himself, there is a creak of hinges, and small spots of grayness dot Koki’s vision. He clenches his jaw, struggling anew as the fear takes a tighter hold.
Feet are thumping their way closer to him, and through the blood rushing through his head Koki can swear that he heard a small whispering chuckle.
“You shouldn’t do that, pet.” Koki freezes, blood turning to ice in his veins. A hand strokes through his hair, smoothing out the tangled mass quietly.
“Let me go,” he hisses, trying to arch up off the bed. He can feel blood seeping into the ropes circling his wrists. “Let me go, let me go! You sick bastard, what the fuck do you think you’re doing!” Koki screams hoarsely, voice splitting in terror.
“…What a nasty mouth you have,” the man above him remarks, sounding so disappointed and hurt that you’d think that he was the one who was the injured party here. The hand in his hair turns cruel, threading roughly through the short strands and tugging Koki’s head back effortlessly despite his increasingly desperate struggles.
Koki bites his tongue, pulse jumping and head swimming. He still can’t see anything, and this more than anything throws him off. He can’t tell where the other is, what he’s doing, or even what he looks like. His voice is smooth and sweet, like caramelized candy, but who knows. He could be dealing with a fifty year old, four hundred pound lecher and he’s never know it. Koki whimpers, shaking his head in the other’s grasp.
“You woke me up, you know,” the voice continues. It’s so breathy that’s it’s nearly a whisper, and Koki has to strain to catch every word. His captor is moving away from him, rummaging through the clanking drawers to the right of the bed. The next second there are harsh fingers pressingly punishingly under his jaw and working their way over his lips. Koki can’t do anything but gasp at the pain, at the shock; and the man takes this opportunity to easily slide a ball of crumpled fabric into his mouth. Koki resulting shout is muffled as he gags and clenches his eyes behind the blindfold.
“There, isn’t that better, Koki-kun?” the man asks, teasing satisfaction dripping from his words. Koki feels the first beginnings of tears well up from tightly shut eyes and groans, pushing at the cottony feel in his already drying mouth and blindly shaking his head. He’s stopped by the same hand in his hair, this time a little gentler.
Soft, chapped lips press against his mouth for a brief moment as the fingers in his hair smooth out to cup the back of his straining head. “Be a good boy ‘til I’m gone, ‘kay?” The voice murmurs against his lips before pulling away and leaving him there, frozen and hot all at once.
The steps come and then fade away again, the grayness disappearing in a blink to transform back into that unforgiving darkness. Heavy shoes, or maybe boots, climb up the stairs and then Koki is all alone again, left with a quickly parching throat and burning lips. He’s quiet for the rest of the night, caught in something that smarter, more coherent people would have described as shock. All throughout the night, the small dampness that spots the strip of cloth over his eyes grows. By the time Koki finally collapses into an exhausted sleep, it’s nearly soaked through.
It’s morning. Or, it should be, because Koki is awake and has been awake for the past hour or so. At least, it feels like hour. It could be much longer though, or much shorter. It’s nearly impossible to tell what time it is when you can’t even tell up from down, or left from right. Koki’s head is spinning, he’s nearly choking on the dryness of the gag, and he can’t feel his fingers anymore. His back hurts from the awkward angle, and the blindfold feels damp but stiff and unyielding.
The next thing he feels is a gentle hand stroking his temple, resting lightly on his forehead as if checking for a fever. Koki starts, jumping a little and wincing visibly when the movement tugs at his raw wrists. He’s fully expecting more harsh treatment, maybe something as utterly disgusting as what had happened last night. But the last thing he could have foreseen was the man’s fingers brushing past his lips again, and tenderly removing the wadded ball of fabric from where it sat heavily on Koki’s tongue.
“I’m so sorry, does it hurt?” a familiar voice croons almost directly in his ear when he flinches back. “I bet your throat is all sore now, isn’t it?” The fingers are back in hair, threading and combing distractedly. Koki somehow finds the will power to not make a noise, not even a cry of pain when the man fondles with the ropes that bind his sore hands together. It’s more than he could hope for; because there’s no way that he would bother to untie his ha-
“Koki-kun?” the man asks softly. Koki stills, shuddering at the way he pronounces his name - velvet covered and careful, like it was his and his alone. “You’ve been a good boy,” he continues. “And good boys should have a reward, right?”
The next thing he hears is the snick of a sharpened blade emerging from its’ sheath and he has a split to feel panic flooding through him before Koki feels the ropes fall loose from around his wrists. He leaves them dangling up in space for a full second after he’s been freed, not quite comprehending what just happened. The man with the soft voice laughs lightly with a voice that is too sunny to belong in a place as dark as this and slowly brings his arms down.
Any thoughts of escape that Koki might have briefly harbored when he felt his hands being freed flee immediately in the face of the mind numbing pain that nearly overtakes and destroys him as the pins and needles tortuously return the feeling back to his arms. He cries out hoarsely, cradling his bleeding hands to his chest and attempting to sit up properly.
“Careful, puppy. Don’t hurt yourself.” Suddenly there is a solid hand behind Koki’s back, helping him to sit up, and the rim of a cold glass of something that smells tantalizingly of water. Koki drinks automatically, swallowing deeply as the glass is tipped back for him. It’s only when the raging thirst ebbs away and Koki can speak without choking on his own dry mouth that he realizes what just happened.
He reels back, unseeing eyes trying to tilt upwards. It doesn’t occur to him to take the blindfold off; he knows that he won’t get far in his current condition and, really, what was the point in tempting faith?
“You…you gave me water,” Koki croaks, voice cracking and splintering from lack of use. The quiet man is in front of his now, he can feel it. Koki strains vainly upwards as a burning hot hand cups his cheek.
“Well, of course I would,” he whispers gently, and despite everything, Koki can’t help but to think that the man has the prettiest voice that he has ever heard.
It’s turning into something of a routine for them now; Koki realizes with a growing sense dread over the course of the next couple days. The man comes in, a littler earlier and earlier each time, and gives Koki some water, maybe some food if he’s in a good mood and they talk a little. He doesn’t tie Koki up again after that. If it weren’t for the darkness of the blindfold that the man absolutely refuses to remove still covering his eyes, he could almost believe that they were having a normal conversation.
So he’s surprised when, what feels like a hundred days later, he’s being helped up off the bed and toward what sounds suspiciously like the door. He’s been to the bathroom before -but they’re heading in a completely different direction this time and a vague sense of panic makes itself known on Koki’s face as he drags his heels in a little.
“…Where are you taking me?” he asks, hesitant. The grip on his elbow tightens almost frighteningly, and for a heart stopping moment he’s afraid he’s said the wrong thing. He flinches in the dark, biting his lip, but the man only laughs.
“Upstairs, of course. For breakfast,” he answers lightly. His words are enough to keep Koki quiet and stiff all the way up a flight of stairs and several long, carpeted hallways. It’s only when they enter a cool room with tiled floors and enough sunlight to flood Koki’s covered eyes with watery yellow that it truly sinks in - he’s back outside again, back in the normal world.
Koki stifles a small gasp and turns his head hungrily toward the source of the light - it’s probably just a small window or half shut door, but it’s the first light that he’s seen in days, and even if it’s dim and barely there through the filter of his blindfold, it has him practically jumping up and down in happiness. He’d taken several involuntary steps forward when he remembers the man behind him, and turns questioningly. He’s rewarded with a sigh and hand guiding him to sit down on a chair. Koki leans forward and bumps into a table, leaning back in surprise before tentatively leaning his elbows against it.
“You’ve had this for too long, don’t you think?” the man asks, starting their usual one way conversation as he fingers the thick cloth that covers Koki’s eyes.
“Ye-yes,” he hates how shaky his voice sounds; how thin and young.
“Well then,” the voice drops to a whisper, sending a shiver up Koki’s spine as he inches closer to settle on the chair next to his with a noisy scrape of wood against the tiles. “Why don’t we do something about that.”
Koki barely has time to figure out what he means before there are hands on his face; groping and reaching behind his head and untying knots swiftly. And then the blindfold is gone, fluttering away when the other man pulls on it. A sudden rush of brightness assaults his eyes, and oh god, it feels so good, so normal, except that the lights are too bright; so bright that they hurt. Koki squeezes his eyes shut, whining a bit at the pain from his unused eyes. A hand strokes down his face, trying to coax Koki’s head up again from where it’s buried in his hands.
“Look up, I want to see your face,” he says quietly, yanking on Koki’s chin. Koki, caught by surprise, looks up, squinted eyes slowly adjusting to the brightness around him. Actually, he wants to see the other’s face as well - he’s wanted to know what he looks like ever since the first time he heard him speak. He might very well be some wrinkled old man with drool dripping out from between his yellowing dentures, but Koki kind of doubts it.
For a while though, he can’t see anything. His face is firmly caught by the man’s fingers, and being forced to look directly into so much light after days on end of darkness is too much. Koki ends up squinting furiously, all but feeling his pupils twitch and try not to dilate. The first thing he can make out are lips - big and full and looking like someone continuously bit and abused them with sharply edged teeth. This is followed by a quickening upward sweep of his face and - oh, yep, he was right; this is definitely the farthest thing from what he could have been expecting. His kidnapper has a small nose; wide, contemplative eyes; and hastily combed hair that is the color of coppery tea. He looks…well, perfectly harmless, and if it weren’t for the warning of his iron like grip on his chin, Koki wouldn’t have hesitated a moment before flinging himself up and running away as fast as he could.
Instead, he finds himself gaping open mouthed at the stranger in front of him. The man lets go of Koki’s chin with a pleased look, and nods “You’re beautiful, pet,” he murmurs, swooping in so suddenly that Koki has no time to maneuver; no time to do anything but sit stock still as the other’s warm mouth moves quickly, almost frantically, over his. The kiss is open mouthed and sloppy, and over almost as soon as it begins. The man pulls back, leaning back in his chair and eyeing Koki with a small smile on his lips. Koki stiffens under his gaze, twining his own fingers together tightly and biting his lip. He’s so, so confused right now and it must show on his face, because suddenly the man is tipping his chair forward so he can run calloused hands through Koki’s hair in what he probably imagines is a soothing manner.
“Who are you?” Koki whispers, disgust and fright warring over his features. But if the other man notices, he doesn’t let it show. The same small half smile is still on his face when he answer.
“I have a lot of names,” he says, his tone sending a shiver through Koki’s spine. “But you can call me Ueda.” He gets up, pushing the chair back and making for the pantry. The next minute a bowl of some generic cereal and milk is plopped in front of him, along with a plastic spoon. “You should eat,” Ueda tells him, “You need to keep up your strength.”
Koki doesn’t dare ask for what he’ll possibly need strength for here, and quietly begins to eat while Ueda keeps up a unusually steady stream of chatter next to him. He sounds almost cheerful, and it’s kind of contagious. Koki nods into his bowl, his eyes downcast while his mind wanders. He wonders what his friends are doing; whether they realized that he was gone; how his family is doing. He’s so far lost into his own thoughts that it takes him a full minute to realize that the kitchen has fallen silent, that Ueda is no longer talking. He looks up, confused.
“Took you long enough,” Ueda snarls, his eyes glowing like blackened fire. “Where were you gone, hm? What was so damn interesting in that head of yours that you thought it was okay to ignore me for the past hour?”
Koki flinches back, not understanding a word that comes out of Ueda’s mouth. They haven’t even been here an hour, how could he have ignored him - what was he talking about?
“I - I don’t -” he starts, pushing away his uneaten cereal and trying to stand up. Ueda backhands him viciously and Koki falls back into his chair, one hand automatically going to the quickly rising welt on his cheek.
“We’re done here, you slut,” Ueda says coldly, pulling Koki up by his upper arm and hauling him to the door. He’s strong - much stronger than he looks, and any half hearted resistance Koki puts up is immediately shot down as he is nearly dragged back the way they came. Koki’s dazed, Ueda sudden mood shift frightening him more than he would like to admit, but it’s not until they’re back in the lightless bedroom that he begins to feel the first tendril of real fear.
Ten minutes later, the door shuts behind Ueda with a slow thud, leaving only the empty darkness in its’ wake. Again. Koki shudders and cries out; tears and quiet whimpers caught and held fast by the cloth in his mouth. The darkness is bigger this time; all consuming and ruthless.
Koki gasps, inhaling greedily through his nose and tries his hardest to stave off the feeling of suffocating to death here in this airless room, alone and abandoned. He squeezes his eyes shut, and it helps some - he can pretend that the darkness was only there, in his head and behind his eyes. But then he sighs, turning and fluttering his eyes open for a second - he swear he did, he could feel the whisper of eyelashes against his cheeks - only to see nothing all over again. It comes crashing down and suddenly he is shaking again; quaking against the sheer loneliness and helplessness that’s pulling him under.
Koki wishes that Ueda would come back. Wishes that he would come and hold him again with his soft hands and bright light and even his terrifying kisses - anything, as long as he made this darkness go away. He doesn’t know how long he can deal with this alone anymore.
The next time the door swings open, Koki is fast asleep, tears drying around the corners of his eyes. Ueda walks in silently, flicks on the lights and unties the blindfold and makeshift gag, all without stirring the sleeping man. He has a bowl of warm water in his hands, and it’s to the sight of Ueda slowly soaking a small towel in the water that Koki wakes up. He starts, struggling to sit up, but Ueda pushes him back down gently.
“You need to rest,” he says calmly, and wastes no time before beginning to sponge lightly at his sweaty skin. He starts with his face - the towel gliding warm and soft over his forehead and the bridge of his nose. Koki is frozen, reveling a little in the new found light but scared as hell of Ueda’s strangely unthreatening behavior. He expected more anger, more violence even, but not this. But then, as Ueda slowly starts to dab the towel down his legs and over the curve of his exposed hip serenely, he realizes that he’s more than happy to take what he can get.
Koki learns. He learns what he should do, what he should say, and what he should not say. Ueda is, he discovers, a particularly frail creature, and he has these bouts of rage that sometimes take him over completely until he’s helpless in its’ grasp. It’s not his fault that this happens, Ueda confides in him one morning when he’s spoon feeding Koki. It’s just that, sometimes, his temper gets the best of him and honestly, doesn’t that happen to everyone once in a while?
Koki, his mouth full with the first proper meal he’d had in days, nods in agreement; too busy tracking the movement of Ueda’s fork with hungry eyes to even bother with thinking about disagreeing.
- - -
When Ueda tells him that he needs to get cleaned up, Koki thinks that he means another sponge bath. But instead, that evening he gets pulled into the big, while tiled bathroom that connects to his room in the basement.
“Ueda?” he asks, as he’s being gently pushed to sit on the closed lid of the toilet.
“Hm?”
“…What, what are we doing here?” Koki’s new found stutter doesn’t faze him anymore - and besides, Ueda had told him that it was kind of cute when he stumbled. Ueda goes and gets two huge towels and lays them on the counter, right next the marbled sinks.
“We’re taking a shower, Koki, what does it look like?” He’s impatient, which is never a good sign. Ueda moves closer, casually stripping his thing shirt off and tossing it to the ground. Koki watches with something akin to morbid fascination as he steps out of his jeans and toes off boxers before cranking up the heat and ducking behind the shower curtain.
He stays there, a little shell shocked and a lot confused, before Ueda pokes his head back out to glare at him. His hair is darkened to a brown color by the water, and he’s beckoning impatiently at Koki.
“You need to hurry up, the water will get cold,” he says from under the spray, sounding irritated with Koki’s slowness.
Koki shivers, but hurries to comply and soon his clothes join the small pile on the bathroom floor as pads naked to the shower. The steam is hot; hot enough to burn, but Ueda doesn’t seem to mind it the least. He’s almost directly under the showerhead, his shoulder tensing and relaxing as the water rivulets off his smooth skin. Koki’s mouth suddenly goes dry, and he takes a hesitant step forward, wincing at the water’s ridiculously high temperature.
“Finally,” Ueda says, turning around to tug Koki forward.
“Ah - wait,” he gasps, the heat hitting his skin too soon. But Ueda just pulls him closer.
“I said that we needed to clean you, didn’t I?” he says softly. Koki can barely hear his voice over the rush of the water, but he nods regardless. “Good. Now come here.”
Ueda take his time, pouring shower gel into his hands and smoothing it all over Koki’s body, starting with his neck and massaging it down to his knees. Koki stands still, his legs shaking just a little bit when the other comes too close, and tries his hardest not to stare. But the stall isn’t really that big and it’s hard, especially when Ueda just won’t stop touching him.
He’s not supposed to feel like this, and suddenly his mind flashes back to all those hungry kisses that Ueda has stolen from him over the past days and weeks and he can’t help the slight groan that falls from his lips.
By the time Ueda’s good and done with most of his body, his skin is covered in a thin sheen of clear gel, and he’s practically shivering from the intense heat. Koki moves forward to get under the water and wash himself off, but Ueda’s fingers around his arm stop him.
“I’m not done,” he says, smirking like he does when he’s being mean or purposefully selfish. Koki’s eyes widen as he moves forward, and not just because this position makes it next to impossible to not stare at all that bare skin. Ueda’s got more soap now and lets his hands on slip between Koki’s legs, reaching down to wrap his slick fingers around his cock. Koki moans, powerless to stop his already half hard cock from growing in Ueda’s hand.
“You’re cute,” Ueda whispers to him, his fingers taking his time to explore Koki’s balls with what remained of the shower gel. Koki shivers, and Ueda wraps an arm around his hips, drawing small loops on the skin of his lower back until his index finger is brushing teasingly against the cleft of his ass. He’s clearly having fun playing with him, that much is clear to Koki by the look on his face.
That one finger dips lower and lower until Koki is all but pushing back for more and then drags its’ way to his hole, pushing in shallowly and twisting. Koki groans, his head falling forward onto Ueda’s shoulder. But Ueda’s apparently had enough because the next moment he’s spinning them around and half pushing, half shoving Koki under the blistering water. Koki yelps, but freezes as Ueda presses the entire length of his hard body against his back, holding him in place.
Ueda’s hard - just as, if not more, than he is, and just he thought that he was the one that was responsible for this has him rocking back against him; heedless of the burning spray that he was being held under. Ueda breathes heavily, almost panting, into Koki’s ear as he rolls his hips forward, the length of his cock settling snugly between Koki’s cheeks. He snakes one hand over the other’s waist and wraps it around Koki’s cock, jerking roughly and building a rhythm that was all need and lust and urgency.
Koki moans, the pounding of the water and the feel of Ueda’s hand around him and cock pressing up against him from behind causing the low tension in his belly to coil and heat. He isn’t going to last long, he knows it. Ueda is all but humping him from behind, nails biting bruises into his hipbones as he hisses filthy, filthy things into Koki’s ear. And then the next couple of seconds are a blur of muffled shouts and frantic skin - Koki comes first, splashing his release all over his stomach and Ueda’s hand, and Ueda isn’t far behind. He growls, biting ferally into Koki’s earlobe as he comes, sticky white liquid trailing down both of their thighs.
They’re oddly silent for the rest of the night as they dry off and slip into clean clothes, but it’s comfortable, quiet. Ueda presses soft kisses under Koki’s jaw that night before leaving and locking the door, and that night Koki smiles himself to sleep, not caring anymore about the darkness.
The next day, Ueda leaves. He says that he has to run a few errands, and that he should be back before dinner, so Koki should stay safe and relax around the house while he’s gone.
Koki spend the entire day looking out the windows. He starts with the bedroom window because it’s the highest, and so lets him look down on the street the best. He watches Ueda get in his car - small, silver, and expensive looking - and cranes his neck until it gets smaller and smaller before finally turning the corner and disappearing. Then he moves onto the kitchen window, letting himself stare out at the cold, frost bitten world without even realizing it as he rinses dishes and puts them away. It’s snowy today, and the backyard is filled with slush and whiteness.
He remembers going out and playing in snow like this when he was young, and remembers the pain of having to drive through it once he got older. He hadn’t driven for weeks now, Koki thinks absently. He wonders if he still remembers how.
They said that there are a lot of things that a person never really forgets how to do - riding a bike, driving, laughing. But sometimes Koki wonders. He seemed to have a penchant for forgetting things… already, he can barely remember what his life had been like before coming here. He also has no desire to remember, and for some reason that had stopped bothering him.
Ueda comes home late in the evening, when the sun has already gone done and everything is dark. He hurries through the garage door, breaking into a smile and looking relieved beyond belief when he sees Koki standing and waiting for him in the hall.
“Welcome back,” Koki murmurs, letting Ueda envelop him in a hug. His jacket was freezing, and he smelled like leather and winter air and honestly, it was enough of the outside world as Koki could handle. He looked back on his short lived fantasy of going out and shuddered.
“You’ve seen staring out the window all day, pet,” Ueda says later that evening. “Did you want to go take a walk somewhere?”
Koki is gazing blankly at the living room window. It’s dark and glassy, and by all rights should reflect the trees and star filled sky. But all he can see is Ueda’s face, reflected back among the sheen of the house’s lights that fall over the panes. He jerks his head in response to Ueda’s question and walks back to where Ueda is sprawled, arrogantly comfortable and feline, on the sofa. He opens his arms commandingly and Koki curls up next to him, head tucked under Ueda’s chin.
“No, I don’t,” he replies slowly. “I don’t…I don’t want to have to leave you.”
Ueda inhales sharply, and for a moment Koki’s afraid that he’s said something terribly, terribly wrong. But no, Ueda is stroking his hair again, and that can only mean that he’s pleased. “I’m glad,” he murmurs into Koki’s nape, his breath a warm caress against his skin. Koki smiles and twists in Ueda’s arms, such an openly bold gesture that he half expect Ueda to fly into a fury right on the spot.
But when he meets Ueda’s eyes, there’s nothing there but warmth and heat. Koki inches forward, leaning his head in until first their noses, then foreheads, touch. He’s breathing shallowly, and Ueda’s eyes have turned to black fire again. Koki waits, their lips just a whisper away from each other, until neither of them can take it any longer and then surges forward to mold their lips together.
Koki runs out of breath quickly, never quite able to keep up with Ueda’s unrelenting pace, but that only makes him cling tighter. He never wants to break away.
From: holly_berri
Title: Those Invisible Lines
Pairings/Characters: Koki/Ueda
Rating: NC-17
Warnings: Kidnapping, mentally unbalanced Ueda, some dub-con, manipulation and general mind fuckery, Stockholm Syndrome
Notes: Levy! :D This was so much fun to write, you have no idea. Sorry for any vagueness or nonsensical plot - I hope you like it! >.< And thanks so much to R., my amazing beta and hand holder.
Summary: Some lines are blurred easier than others, but it’s the ones that you can’t see that you really have to watch out for.
The last thing he remembers is the anxious face of the man who had been sitting in the seat next to him - his bitten and sore looking lower lip firmly caught between his teeth and widening eyes glinting blue black under the lights. The man is asking him something, Koki thinks fuzzily, because his lips are moving now; they’re framing a worried question that he, for some strange reason, can’t hear anymore. It’s like swimming through a fog, noises fading and everything else blurring together. He feels the jolting hardness of the train’s floor under him a second later, but doesn’t have time to wonder how he ended up on the ground before the world blinks and shudders. Everything is swallowed whole by grayness, and it takes an unresisting Koki with it.
- - -
The first thing that Koki notices when he wakes up is that he can’t see anything - not even the comforting fog that had pulled him down before, and it takes a while to realize that he’s immersed in complete darkness. He blinks and tries to open his eyes, but he must be more out of it than he realizes, because somehow can’t seem to manage to convince his eyelids to lift high enough to see. The darkness remains, annoying and blank.
Koki sighs, sensation not quite returning to his body yet. He’s tired; tired of sleeping and tired of feeling confused. Whatever the hell it was that he ate before dinner - ramen and peanut butter, damn if he was ever going near anything that Taguchi cooked for him ever again - has been playing havoc on his dreams and Koki grumbles, suddenly feeling the beginnings of headache throbbing behind his eyelids. He goes to sit, eyes still half shut; the only thing on his mind being a glass of water and say, about a bottle or so of aspirin. Only to be yanked back viciously by what feels like thick ropes binding his wrists.
Koki falls back to the bed, landing heavily on pillows that he realizes with an acute sense of terror are too thick and small to be his. He yells hoarsely, jerking against the restraints as any remaining sleepiness washes away and undiluted fright slinks into its’ place.
He’s tied; tied to a bed that isn’t his and it’s dark because he can’t see because there is a fucking blindfold wrapped around his eyes. A smothering wave of panic swamps over him, huge and unforgiving and Koki can’t help it, he screams.
The sound echoes shrilly around the room, bouncing off the invisible walls and the shadowed window panes. It dies down quickly, leaving an empty silence that has his heart racing faster than ever and another terror stricken cry ripping its’ way out of his chest just to fill the cruel, lightless silence. He’s thrashing by now, dull ropes searing red, bruising marks that Koki won’t ever be able to see into his pale wrists. He’s on top of a bed with the thickness of the comforter lying uncomfortably under him, and it bunches up near his hips and tangles itself in his legs as he struggles. In the dark, it feels like hands crawling up his skin and twining themselves around him; their soft, damp palms rubbing and brushing over his jeans and sockless feet. Koki shudders, his voice breaking and giving out to a panting, dry throated agony of quiet.
It’s dark, so dark; how can it possibly be so goddamn dark? Thoughts are racing around in circles in Koki’s head, each one more frantic and panic driven than the last. He has no idea where he is, why or how he got here and Koki’s nearly crying by this point. Some dim, pessimistic corner of mind tells him that if no one had come to check on him after all that pathetic screaming then there was less than a zero percent of a chance than someone, anyone, had heard him.
And that he could just forget about getting rescued - no one knew he was here, and at this rate no one was ever going to find out. He’d end up being one of those nameless disappearances that you hear about on the news everyday and they’d put little flyers with tacky mug shots of his face at police stations, like they did for runaway children and serial killers and prison escapees. ‘Have you seen this person?’ ... Only no one would, no one ever would, because he was tied up and abandoned here all alone and just, fuck.
Koki shouts again, voice sounding like someone had run nails up and down his throat, and bucks against the rope again. He can feel the skin around his wrists breaking and swelling with cold, black blood that runs in skinny rivulets over his twisted fingers, and all a while his struggles grow slower. He’s been running on little to no sleep for the past week but it feels more like a month, and he’s exhausted - and just about frightened out of his mind.
This type of stuff, it just, doesn’t happen. Not to normal, reasonable happy people like him - the very idea of getting kidnapped is ridiculous. But yet, here he is. He groans loudly in frustration and tries to kick blanket off him, nearly missing the tell tale thumping outside of the distant door.
Koki goes stock still, wrists dangling limply and breathing loudly through his open mouth. It’s footsteps, that much he knows. And they’re close; close enough that he can distinguish the individual noises of each noisily clad foot against as they clatter down what sounds like stairs. The person, they’re just outside the door now, because Koki can hear the small slip and slide of a key being turned and a doorknob being roughly manhandled.
Before he can so much as brace himself, there is a creak of hinges, and small spots of grayness dot Koki’s vision. He clenches his jaw, struggling anew as the fear takes a tighter hold.
Feet are thumping their way closer to him, and through the blood rushing through his head Koki can swear that he heard a small whispering chuckle.
“You shouldn’t do that, pet.” Koki freezes, blood turning to ice in his veins. A hand strokes through his hair, smoothing out the tangled mass quietly.
“Let me go,” he hisses, trying to arch up off the bed. He can feel blood seeping into the ropes circling his wrists. “Let me go, let me go! You sick bastard, what the fuck do you think you’re doing!” Koki screams hoarsely, voice splitting in terror.
“…What a nasty mouth you have,” the man above him remarks, sounding so disappointed and hurt that you’d think that he was the one who was the injured party here. The hand in his hair turns cruel, threading roughly through the short strands and tugging Koki’s head back effortlessly despite his increasingly desperate struggles.
Koki bites his tongue, pulse jumping and head swimming. He still can’t see anything, and this more than anything throws him off. He can’t tell where the other is, what he’s doing, or even what he looks like. His voice is smooth and sweet, like caramelized candy, but who knows. He could be dealing with a fifty year old, four hundred pound lecher and he’s never know it. Koki whimpers, shaking his head in the other’s grasp.
“You woke me up, you know,” the voice continues. It’s so breathy that’s it’s nearly a whisper, and Koki has to strain to catch every word. His captor is moving away from him, rummaging through the clanking drawers to the right of the bed. The next second there are harsh fingers pressingly punishingly under his jaw and working their way over his lips. Koki can’t do anything but gasp at the pain, at the shock; and the man takes this opportunity to easily slide a ball of crumpled fabric into his mouth. Koki resulting shout is muffled as he gags and clenches his eyes behind the blindfold.
“There, isn’t that better, Koki-kun?” the man asks, teasing satisfaction dripping from his words. Koki feels the first beginnings of tears well up from tightly shut eyes and groans, pushing at the cottony feel in his already drying mouth and blindly shaking his head. He’s stopped by the same hand in his hair, this time a little gentler.
Soft, chapped lips press against his mouth for a brief moment as the fingers in his hair smooth out to cup the back of his straining head. “Be a good boy ‘til I’m gone, ‘kay?” The voice murmurs against his lips before pulling away and leaving him there, frozen and hot all at once.
The steps come and then fade away again, the grayness disappearing in a blink to transform back into that unforgiving darkness. Heavy shoes, or maybe boots, climb up the stairs and then Koki is all alone again, left with a quickly parching throat and burning lips. He’s quiet for the rest of the night, caught in something that smarter, more coherent people would have described as shock. All throughout the night, the small dampness that spots the strip of cloth over his eyes grows. By the time Koki finally collapses into an exhausted sleep, it’s nearly soaked through.
It’s morning. Or, it should be, because Koki is awake and has been awake for the past hour or so. At least, it feels like hour. It could be much longer though, or much shorter. It’s nearly impossible to tell what time it is when you can’t even tell up from down, or left from right. Koki’s head is spinning, he’s nearly choking on the dryness of the gag, and he can’t feel his fingers anymore. His back hurts from the awkward angle, and the blindfold feels damp but stiff and unyielding.
The next thing he feels is a gentle hand stroking his temple, resting lightly on his forehead as if checking for a fever. Koki starts, jumping a little and wincing visibly when the movement tugs at his raw wrists. He’s fully expecting more harsh treatment, maybe something as utterly disgusting as what had happened last night. But the last thing he could have foreseen was the man’s fingers brushing past his lips again, and tenderly removing the wadded ball of fabric from where it sat heavily on Koki’s tongue.
“I’m so sorry, does it hurt?” a familiar voice croons almost directly in his ear when he flinches back. “I bet your throat is all sore now, isn’t it?” The fingers are back in hair, threading and combing distractedly. Koki somehow finds the will power to not make a noise, not even a cry of pain when the man fondles with the ropes that bind his sore hands together. It’s more than he could hope for; because there’s no way that he would bother to untie his ha-
“Koki-kun?” the man asks softly. Koki stills, shuddering at the way he pronounces his name - velvet covered and careful, like it was his and his alone. “You’ve been a good boy,” he continues. “And good boys should have a reward, right?”
The next thing he hears is the snick of a sharpened blade emerging from its’ sheath and he has a split to feel panic flooding through him before Koki feels the ropes fall loose from around his wrists. He leaves them dangling up in space for a full second after he’s been freed, not quite comprehending what just happened. The man with the soft voice laughs lightly with a voice that is too sunny to belong in a place as dark as this and slowly brings his arms down.
Any thoughts of escape that Koki might have briefly harbored when he felt his hands being freed flee immediately in the face of the mind numbing pain that nearly overtakes and destroys him as the pins and needles tortuously return the feeling back to his arms. He cries out hoarsely, cradling his bleeding hands to his chest and attempting to sit up properly.
“Careful, puppy. Don’t hurt yourself.” Suddenly there is a solid hand behind Koki’s back, helping him to sit up, and the rim of a cold glass of something that smells tantalizingly of water. Koki drinks automatically, swallowing deeply as the glass is tipped back for him. It’s only when the raging thirst ebbs away and Koki can speak without choking on his own dry mouth that he realizes what just happened.
He reels back, unseeing eyes trying to tilt upwards. It doesn’t occur to him to take the blindfold off; he knows that he won’t get far in his current condition and, really, what was the point in tempting faith?
“You…you gave me water,” Koki croaks, voice cracking and splintering from lack of use. The quiet man is in front of his now, he can feel it. Koki strains vainly upwards as a burning hot hand cups his cheek.
“Well, of course I would,” he whispers gently, and despite everything, Koki can’t help but to think that the man has the prettiest voice that he has ever heard.
It’s turning into something of a routine for them now; Koki realizes with a growing sense dread over the course of the next couple days. The man comes in, a littler earlier and earlier each time, and gives Koki some water, maybe some food if he’s in a good mood and they talk a little. He doesn’t tie Koki up again after that. If it weren’t for the darkness of the blindfold that the man absolutely refuses to remove still covering his eyes, he could almost believe that they were having a normal conversation.
So he’s surprised when, what feels like a hundred days later, he’s being helped up off the bed and toward what sounds suspiciously like the door. He’s been to the bathroom before -but they’re heading in a completely different direction this time and a vague sense of panic makes itself known on Koki’s face as he drags his heels in a little.
“…Where are you taking me?” he asks, hesitant. The grip on his elbow tightens almost frighteningly, and for a heart stopping moment he’s afraid he’s said the wrong thing. He flinches in the dark, biting his lip, but the man only laughs.
“Upstairs, of course. For breakfast,” he answers lightly. His words are enough to keep Koki quiet and stiff all the way up a flight of stairs and several long, carpeted hallways. It’s only when they enter a cool room with tiled floors and enough sunlight to flood Koki’s covered eyes with watery yellow that it truly sinks in - he’s back outside again, back in the normal world.
Koki stifles a small gasp and turns his head hungrily toward the source of the light - it’s probably just a small window or half shut door, but it’s the first light that he’s seen in days, and even if it’s dim and barely there through the filter of his blindfold, it has him practically jumping up and down in happiness. He’d taken several involuntary steps forward when he remembers the man behind him, and turns questioningly. He’s rewarded with a sigh and hand guiding him to sit down on a chair. Koki leans forward and bumps into a table, leaning back in surprise before tentatively leaning his elbows against it.
“You’ve had this for too long, don’t you think?” the man asks, starting their usual one way conversation as he fingers the thick cloth that covers Koki’s eyes.
“Ye-yes,” he hates how shaky his voice sounds; how thin and young.
“Well then,” the voice drops to a whisper, sending a shiver up Koki’s spine as he inches closer to settle on the chair next to his with a noisy scrape of wood against the tiles. “Why don’t we do something about that.”
Koki barely has time to figure out what he means before there are hands on his face; groping and reaching behind his head and untying knots swiftly. And then the blindfold is gone, fluttering away when the other man pulls on it. A sudden rush of brightness assaults his eyes, and oh god, it feels so good, so normal, except that the lights are too bright; so bright that they hurt. Koki squeezes his eyes shut, whining a bit at the pain from his unused eyes. A hand strokes down his face, trying to coax Koki’s head up again from where it’s buried in his hands.
“Look up, I want to see your face,” he says quietly, yanking on Koki’s chin. Koki, caught by surprise, looks up, squinted eyes slowly adjusting to the brightness around him. Actually, he wants to see the other’s face as well - he’s wanted to know what he looks like ever since the first time he heard him speak. He might very well be some wrinkled old man with drool dripping out from between his yellowing dentures, but Koki kind of doubts it.
For a while though, he can’t see anything. His face is firmly caught by the man’s fingers, and being forced to look directly into so much light after days on end of darkness is too much. Koki ends up squinting furiously, all but feeling his pupils twitch and try not to dilate. The first thing he can make out are lips - big and full and looking like someone continuously bit and abused them with sharply edged teeth. This is followed by a quickening upward sweep of his face and - oh, yep, he was right; this is definitely the farthest thing from what he could have been expecting. His kidnapper has a small nose; wide, contemplative eyes; and hastily combed hair that is the color of coppery tea. He looks…well, perfectly harmless, and if it weren’t for the warning of his iron like grip on his chin, Koki wouldn’t have hesitated a moment before flinging himself up and running away as fast as he could.
Instead, he finds himself gaping open mouthed at the stranger in front of him. The man lets go of Koki’s chin with a pleased look, and nods “You’re beautiful, pet,” he murmurs, swooping in so suddenly that Koki has no time to maneuver; no time to do anything but sit stock still as the other’s warm mouth moves quickly, almost frantically, over his. The kiss is open mouthed and sloppy, and over almost as soon as it begins. The man pulls back, leaning back in his chair and eyeing Koki with a small smile on his lips. Koki stiffens under his gaze, twining his own fingers together tightly and biting his lip. He’s so, so confused right now and it must show on his face, because suddenly the man is tipping his chair forward so he can run calloused hands through Koki’s hair in what he probably imagines is a soothing manner.
“Who are you?” Koki whispers, disgust and fright warring over his features. But if the other man notices, he doesn’t let it show. The same small half smile is still on his face when he answer.
“I have a lot of names,” he says, his tone sending a shiver through Koki’s spine. “But you can call me Ueda.” He gets up, pushing the chair back and making for the pantry. The next minute a bowl of some generic cereal and milk is plopped in front of him, along with a plastic spoon. “You should eat,” Ueda tells him, “You need to keep up your strength.”
Koki doesn’t dare ask for what he’ll possibly need strength for here, and quietly begins to eat while Ueda keeps up a unusually steady stream of chatter next to him. He sounds almost cheerful, and it’s kind of contagious. Koki nods into his bowl, his eyes downcast while his mind wanders. He wonders what his friends are doing; whether they realized that he was gone; how his family is doing. He’s so far lost into his own thoughts that it takes him a full minute to realize that the kitchen has fallen silent, that Ueda is no longer talking. He looks up, confused.
“Took you long enough,” Ueda snarls, his eyes glowing like blackened fire. “Where were you gone, hm? What was so damn interesting in that head of yours that you thought it was okay to ignore me for the past hour?”
Koki flinches back, not understanding a word that comes out of Ueda’s mouth. They haven’t even been here an hour, how could he have ignored him - what was he talking about?
“I - I don’t -” he starts, pushing away his uneaten cereal and trying to stand up. Ueda backhands him viciously and Koki falls back into his chair, one hand automatically going to the quickly rising welt on his cheek.
“We’re done here, you slut,” Ueda says coldly, pulling Koki up by his upper arm and hauling him to the door. He’s strong - much stronger than he looks, and any half hearted resistance Koki puts up is immediately shot down as he is nearly dragged back the way they came. Koki’s dazed, Ueda sudden mood shift frightening him more than he would like to admit, but it’s not until they’re back in the lightless bedroom that he begins to feel the first tendril of real fear.
Ten minutes later, the door shuts behind Ueda with a slow thud, leaving only the empty darkness in its’ wake. Again. Koki shudders and cries out; tears and quiet whimpers caught and held fast by the cloth in his mouth. The darkness is bigger this time; all consuming and ruthless.
Koki gasps, inhaling greedily through his nose and tries his hardest to stave off the feeling of suffocating to death here in this airless room, alone and abandoned. He squeezes his eyes shut, and it helps some - he can pretend that the darkness was only there, in his head and behind his eyes. But then he sighs, turning and fluttering his eyes open for a second - he swear he did, he could feel the whisper of eyelashes against his cheeks - only to see nothing all over again. It comes crashing down and suddenly he is shaking again; quaking against the sheer loneliness and helplessness that’s pulling him under.
Koki wishes that Ueda would come back. Wishes that he would come and hold him again with his soft hands and bright light and even his terrifying kisses - anything, as long as he made this darkness go away. He doesn’t know how long he can deal with this alone anymore.
The next time the door swings open, Koki is fast asleep, tears drying around the corners of his eyes. Ueda walks in silently, flicks on the lights and unties the blindfold and makeshift gag, all without stirring the sleeping man. He has a bowl of warm water in his hands, and it’s to the sight of Ueda slowly soaking a small towel in the water that Koki wakes up. He starts, struggling to sit up, but Ueda pushes him back down gently.
“You need to rest,” he says calmly, and wastes no time before beginning to sponge lightly at his sweaty skin. He starts with his face - the towel gliding warm and soft over his forehead and the bridge of his nose. Koki is frozen, reveling a little in the new found light but scared as hell of Ueda’s strangely unthreatening behavior. He expected more anger, more violence even, but not this. But then, as Ueda slowly starts to dab the towel down his legs and over the curve of his exposed hip serenely, he realizes that he’s more than happy to take what he can get.
Koki learns. He learns what he should do, what he should say, and what he should not say. Ueda is, he discovers, a particularly frail creature, and he has these bouts of rage that sometimes take him over completely until he’s helpless in its’ grasp. It’s not his fault that this happens, Ueda confides in him one morning when he’s spoon feeding Koki. It’s just that, sometimes, his temper gets the best of him and honestly, doesn’t that happen to everyone once in a while?
Koki, his mouth full with the first proper meal he’d had in days, nods in agreement; too busy tracking the movement of Ueda’s fork with hungry eyes to even bother with thinking about disagreeing.
- - -
When Ueda tells him that he needs to get cleaned up, Koki thinks that he means another sponge bath. But instead, that evening he gets pulled into the big, while tiled bathroom that connects to his room in the basement.
“Ueda?” he asks, as he’s being gently pushed to sit on the closed lid of the toilet.
“Hm?”
“…What, what are we doing here?” Koki’s new found stutter doesn’t faze him anymore - and besides, Ueda had told him that it was kind of cute when he stumbled. Ueda goes and gets two huge towels and lays them on the counter, right next the marbled sinks.
“We’re taking a shower, Koki, what does it look like?” He’s impatient, which is never a good sign. Ueda moves closer, casually stripping his thing shirt off and tossing it to the ground. Koki watches with something akin to morbid fascination as he steps out of his jeans and toes off boxers before cranking up the heat and ducking behind the shower curtain.
He stays there, a little shell shocked and a lot confused, before Ueda pokes his head back out to glare at him. His hair is darkened to a brown color by the water, and he’s beckoning impatiently at Koki.
“You need to hurry up, the water will get cold,” he says from under the spray, sounding irritated with Koki’s slowness.
Koki shivers, but hurries to comply and soon his clothes join the small pile on the bathroom floor as pads naked to the shower. The steam is hot; hot enough to burn, but Ueda doesn’t seem to mind it the least. He’s almost directly under the showerhead, his shoulder tensing and relaxing as the water rivulets off his smooth skin. Koki’s mouth suddenly goes dry, and he takes a hesitant step forward, wincing at the water’s ridiculously high temperature.
“Finally,” Ueda says, turning around to tug Koki forward.
“Ah - wait,” he gasps, the heat hitting his skin too soon. But Ueda just pulls him closer.
“I said that we needed to clean you, didn’t I?” he says softly. Koki can barely hear his voice over the rush of the water, but he nods regardless. “Good. Now come here.”
Ueda take his time, pouring shower gel into his hands and smoothing it all over Koki’s body, starting with his neck and massaging it down to his knees. Koki stands still, his legs shaking just a little bit when the other comes too close, and tries his hardest not to stare. But the stall isn’t really that big and it’s hard, especially when Ueda just won’t stop touching him.
He’s not supposed to feel like this, and suddenly his mind flashes back to all those hungry kisses that Ueda has stolen from him over the past days and weeks and he can’t help the slight groan that falls from his lips.
By the time Ueda’s good and done with most of his body, his skin is covered in a thin sheen of clear gel, and he’s practically shivering from the intense heat. Koki moves forward to get under the water and wash himself off, but Ueda’s fingers around his arm stop him.
“I’m not done,” he says, smirking like he does when he’s being mean or purposefully selfish. Koki’s eyes widen as he moves forward, and not just because this position makes it next to impossible to not stare at all that bare skin. Ueda’s got more soap now and lets his hands on slip between Koki’s legs, reaching down to wrap his slick fingers around his cock. Koki moans, powerless to stop his already half hard cock from growing in Ueda’s hand.
“You’re cute,” Ueda whispers to him, his fingers taking his time to explore Koki’s balls with what remained of the shower gel. Koki shivers, and Ueda wraps an arm around his hips, drawing small loops on the skin of his lower back until his index finger is brushing teasingly against the cleft of his ass. He’s clearly having fun playing with him, that much is clear to Koki by the look on his face.
That one finger dips lower and lower until Koki is all but pushing back for more and then drags its’ way to his hole, pushing in shallowly and twisting. Koki groans, his head falling forward onto Ueda’s shoulder. But Ueda’s apparently had enough because the next moment he’s spinning them around and half pushing, half shoving Koki under the blistering water. Koki yelps, but freezes as Ueda presses the entire length of his hard body against his back, holding him in place.
Ueda’s hard - just as, if not more, than he is, and just he thought that he was the one that was responsible for this has him rocking back against him; heedless of the burning spray that he was being held under. Ueda breathes heavily, almost panting, into Koki’s ear as he rolls his hips forward, the length of his cock settling snugly between Koki’s cheeks. He snakes one hand over the other’s waist and wraps it around Koki’s cock, jerking roughly and building a rhythm that was all need and lust and urgency.
Koki moans, the pounding of the water and the feel of Ueda’s hand around him and cock pressing up against him from behind causing the low tension in his belly to coil and heat. He isn’t going to last long, he knows it. Ueda is all but humping him from behind, nails biting bruises into his hipbones as he hisses filthy, filthy things into Koki’s ear. And then the next couple of seconds are a blur of muffled shouts and frantic skin - Koki comes first, splashing his release all over his stomach and Ueda’s hand, and Ueda isn’t far behind. He growls, biting ferally into Koki’s earlobe as he comes, sticky white liquid trailing down both of their thighs.
They’re oddly silent for the rest of the night as they dry off and slip into clean clothes, but it’s comfortable, quiet. Ueda presses soft kisses under Koki’s jaw that night before leaving and locking the door, and that night Koki smiles himself to sleep, not caring anymore about the darkness.
The next day, Ueda leaves. He says that he has to run a few errands, and that he should be back before dinner, so Koki should stay safe and relax around the house while he’s gone.
Koki spend the entire day looking out the windows. He starts with the bedroom window because it’s the highest, and so lets him look down on the street the best. He watches Ueda get in his car - small, silver, and expensive looking - and cranes his neck until it gets smaller and smaller before finally turning the corner and disappearing. Then he moves onto the kitchen window, letting himself stare out at the cold, frost bitten world without even realizing it as he rinses dishes and puts them away. It’s snowy today, and the backyard is filled with slush and whiteness.
He remembers going out and playing in snow like this when he was young, and remembers the pain of having to drive through it once he got older. He hadn’t driven for weeks now, Koki thinks absently. He wonders if he still remembers how.
They said that there are a lot of things that a person never really forgets how to do - riding a bike, driving, laughing. But sometimes Koki wonders. He seemed to have a penchant for forgetting things… already, he can barely remember what his life had been like before coming here. He also has no desire to remember, and for some reason that had stopped bothering him.
Ueda comes home late in the evening, when the sun has already gone done and everything is dark. He hurries through the garage door, breaking into a smile and looking relieved beyond belief when he sees Koki standing and waiting for him in the hall.
“Welcome back,” Koki murmurs, letting Ueda envelop him in a hug. His jacket was freezing, and he smelled like leather and winter air and honestly, it was enough of the outside world as Koki could handle. He looked back on his short lived fantasy of going out and shuddered.
“You’ve seen staring out the window all day, pet,” Ueda says later that evening. “Did you want to go take a walk somewhere?”
Koki is gazing blankly at the living room window. It’s dark and glassy, and by all rights should reflect the trees and star filled sky. But all he can see is Ueda’s face, reflected back among the sheen of the house’s lights that fall over the panes. He jerks his head in response to Ueda’s question and walks back to where Ueda is sprawled, arrogantly comfortable and feline, on the sofa. He opens his arms commandingly and Koki curls up next to him, head tucked under Ueda’s chin.
“No, I don’t,” he replies slowly. “I don’t…I don’t want to have to leave you.”
Ueda inhales sharply, and for a moment Koki’s afraid that he’s said something terribly, terribly wrong. But no, Ueda is stroking his hair again, and that can only mean that he’s pleased. “I’m glad,” he murmurs into Koki’s nape, his breath a warm caress against his skin. Koki smiles and twists in Ueda’s arms, such an openly bold gesture that he half expect Ueda to fly into a fury right on the spot.
But when he meets Ueda’s eyes, there’s nothing there but warmth and heat. Koki inches forward, leaning his head in until first their noses, then foreheads, touch. He’s breathing shallowly, and Ueda’s eyes have turned to black fire again. Koki waits, their lips just a whisper away from each other, until neither of them can take it any longer and then surges forward to mold their lips together.
Koki runs out of breath quickly, never quite able to keep up with Ueda’s unrelenting pace, but that only makes him cling tighter. He never wants to break away.