Chapter Text
Goro’s whole body ached, felt raw and painful and ripped to shreds.
His cock hurt, his ass feeling stretched and raw, and every fucking muscle in his body was crying out in quiet pain. There were marks around his wrists and over his chest, around his waist, his thighs, from where the rope had dug in – Sagawa had tied him up and strapped half a fucking toy box to his dick and balls, shoved a vibrating dildo so far up his ass Goro had almost thought he’d taste it, and he’d left Goro in place for an hour before he’d finished stamping paperwork and come to untie him.
He’d been so oversensitive and overstimulated that Sagawa fucking him had simultaneously almost been unnoticeable and had been so much that he wanted to scream, but he hadn’t, he’d just—
Taken it.
Now, he didn’t care how fucking pathetic it was, and he knew it was damn pathetic: he crawled slowly up the bed and dropped against Sagawa’s chest, feeling the incredible heat of his body under Goro’s, the comfortable weight of his body. He was showing signs of his age, wasn’t jacked in the way Shimano still was – he had a slight paunch to his belly, but that just made him more comfortable when Goro pressed his face against his chest, so that he was forehead-to-forehead with the baku tattooed there.
Sagawa was covered almost neck to ankle in irezumi, and the first time they’d fucked, Goro had spent ages after sitting cross-legged on the bed and staring at the complexity of the design across his back and his arms, the backs of his thighs – Sagawa had a whole bathhouse scene across his back, samurai on the top level and a geisha leading in two women on the lower level, water flowing over the stones, even a cat that was getting yelled at for lapping from the onsen water.
The ukiyo scenes were somehow exactly what he would have expected of Sagawa and also a surprise whenever he looked at them – the baku was more familiar territory, but even that was inked in the more old-fashioned style, didn’t look like some of the newer baku he saw today when guys had them inked in.
Sagawa was chuckling at him, and Goro set his jaw and closed his eye, pressing his forehead tighter to the slightly cushioned material of Sagawa’s sternum, wrapping his arms around Sagawa’s waist and locking his elbows against his hips.
Sagawa’s knees tightened in, framing Goro’s body with his legs, and Goro could fucking cry, because it felt good, felt comfortable and warm and paradoxically safe, Sagawa’s body holding his, even knowing it was the most dangerous fucking place on earth, but who cared?
Sagawa was alive, his heart beating under Goro’s cheek, his breathing slowly and even, and he was so fucking warm.
“I think you did pretty well, kiddo,” murmured Sagawa, sliding his fingers through Goro’s hair and scratching a little at his scalp, the motion so incredibly gentle that Goro sighed in pleasure, going further limp against Sagawa’s chest.
Shimano never allowed this, when he’d used to fuck Goro, although he didn’t any longer, had lost interest by the time he was twenty-one and fully grown into himself, too much his own man to pretend he was a girl anymore – after fucking him, Shimano would never let Goro lean into his chest like this, but twice he’d let Goro lie over his lap with his face pressed into the powerful muscle and fat of his thigh.
Goro had fallen asleep there, the second time, and he remembered what Shimano had said after, that if Shimano didn’t know him to be a feral fucking dog, he’d’ve thought he was a housecat.
Sagawa wasn’t like Shimano.
He actually liked men, and more than once he’d sat back and admired Goro’s body, had touched his pecs or followed the lines of his hips, the squareness of his waist, the relative flatness of his thighs, his ass, pressing on the muscle where he found it.
And he liked having a man against his body, resting on his chest, too – what he shared in common with Shimano was that he liked breaking a strong man down to fucking nothing, and that was what he’d done.
“How many of them do you think clocked it?” asked Sagawa in a quiet whisper, his breath hot on the shell of Goro’s ear. “How many of ‘em do you think looked at you and realised exactly what you were, what you’ve been all this time? How many of those ex-whores realised that looking at you is like looking in a mirror?” His fingers slid down Goro’s back, one finger hooking the edge of his rim, and Goro grunted at the way the sensitive skin throbbed, already overwrought. “How many of ‘em do you think realised tonight that their handsome Manager-san’s a fucking queen?”
“I ain’t a queen,” said Goro. “I’ve fucked just as many girls as I’ve fucked men – I ain’t like you.”
“Mmm,” hummed Sagawa, sounding unconvinced, and Goro felt a pit of humiliation low in his belly, twisting painfully, making him want to throw up, or maybe just tear Sagawa’s throat out with his teeth. “How many of them do you think got that?”
“One day,” said Goro quietly, “I ain’t gonna be in Sotenbori anymore. I’ll get myself out of this fucking sentence – and then I’ll come back and kill you.”
“Mmm, lemme make a prediction of my own,” said Sagawa, unaffected – he was never affected – and squeezed Goro’s ass, the movement so much like affection that Goro wanted to tear someone’s skin off, but whether it was his own or Sagawa’s, he had no fucking idea. “In a few years, kid, you’ll’ve got outta here, and I’ll get killed, and a part of you, lying in your bed with some boy or girl beside you, will miss this moment, miss how it felt lying on top of me, miss how I touched you. When I’m dead, tiger, a part of you will grieve – and that makes you more pathetic than anything I could ever do to you myself.”
“Yeah,” said Goro. “Tell yourself that.”
(It turned out, infuriatingly, though the timeline was wrong, that he was right.
When Goro realised, the indignant anger he felt was nothing compared to the raw and agonising emptiness that came with it.)