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They don’t usually venture this far from the station, so Ryuki doesn’t know this bar very well. He’s dreading going to the bathroom and getting lost. He’s had too much to drink, knows that well, can feel the unfamiliar venue lurching and dipping.
He’s grateful to have left Tama at home updating, at least. It’s easier without her lecturing.
Ryuki doesn’t know why he even tries to drink along with Date. The guy’s got to be twice his weight and there’s no way he takes any medicine that lowers his alcohol tolerance. Ryuki is at a disadvantage before he’s even started.
He just can’t say no when this guy offers. Couldn’t refuse him anything.
He should be pouring the drinks, he whines, it’s weird that his senpai is holding the bottle, but Date just shakes his head.
“You’re too slow. I don’t mind. You’re fun to drink with, Ryuki-kun.”
Being this close to him while he’s so kind feels like too much. Like attention he doesn’t deserve. But it’s hard not to mirror his energy, to perk up when he’s excitable. They cheer on a strangers karaoke and complain about work and it should just be a normal colleague hangout.
Except Ryuki’s skin is on fire and his heart pounds in his chest. It’s different from being close at Headquarters, because here he really can’t control how jittery with nerves he is. His hands sweat and shake.
“Another?”
He nods. They’re at least on beer and not spirits, now.
“What’s on your mind?” The blond asks, eyes still fixed on the office lady mumbling shoddily along to the love song that fills the bar.
“I was- uh. Thinking about the last date I went on,” Ryuki admits. It’s not a great memory. The atmosphere here is much fonder, but mentioning that feels like overstepping.
“Oh yeah? Worse than her?” He indicates the singer with a gentle nod.
“Mm. Kind of.”
Date’s eyebrow quirks.
“No, that’s mean, she was… She was okay. A friend from college. Very nice, but…”
“Stuffy?”
“Not my type,” he confesses. He’s tipsy enough to admit that. He can’t let himself spill any more than that, though.
“Have you ever really dated?” Date asks, direct but not rudely. It’s not an unfair assumption to make. Ryuki is young, inexperienced in many ways. He flew through the academy, graduating earlier than most.
He can feel himself swaying as he grasps for a delicate answer. His brain isn’t working as fast as he’d like.
“It’s okay if not, man, don’t stress yourself out,” Date offers, shaking his head. There’s an amused little wrinkle to his nose.
“That’s not it,” Ryuki says, voice coming out so small and soft. “It’s hard.”
“As a cop?”
“No, just…” he lets his hand flap limply, gesturing to himself.
“I have been curious,” he says, and he’s got the sharp smile of a shark as he says it. Date’s interested by that, or at least amused.
Curious? He wonders, but the question gets stuck in his throat.
“Ryuki-kun. Boss told me.” It’s not dismissive. If anything it’s kind. Sparing him having to out himself. “I don’t think it would limit your options at all.”
Date is a good senpai and a good friend and he’s so charismatic, effortlessly charming and funny. Ryuki is a tangle of hormones and anxiety, dripping in fear perspiration, trying not to squeak whenever there’s a casual touch to his back or arm.
It’s a small bar.
So god, are they close.
He could just lean forward onto that broad chest, get a better smell of his aftershave, nuzzle his faint evening stubble–
“Ryuki-kun,” the older man hums, watching with one patient eye. “You need to relax.”
“I’m very drunk, and I still feel stressed,” he groans, hunching forward on his stool.
“This is what I’m saying. You need to get laid.”
Ryuki’s face must express enough because Date just looks at him and grins darkly.
“Look, I live with a kid and sleep on the couch. I know what I’m talking about.”
“Wait, what do you mean?” Ryuki swallows, his throat suddenly thick. This isn’t something they’ve ever spoken about. He takes another mouthful of beer to busy his shaking hands.
“Plenty of gay bars around here,” he goes on. “We could find you some tail easily if you don’t want someone ordinary.”
“I- no,” he answers, and it’s hard not to let his voice slur beyond recognition. “I don’t like those places.”
“Oh?”
“I’ve only ever been interested in one person,” he finds himself saying even though he wants to claw it back into his mouth as soon as it’s left.
“You can always tell me,” Date says. He doesn’t seem drunk at all and Ryuki feels wasted. He’s usually correct, and Ryuki usually confides in him a lot but this feels like too much, like the last straw, like the dumbest thing he could ever admit to.
“I can’t,” he mumbles lamely.
“Come on,” Date says, not giving him the chance to wallow in his feelings any longer. “Let’s get out of here. I want to smoke.”
He guides Ryuki by the arm to the patio area and it’s chilly outside, the air shocking him a little more sober.
“You shouldn’t let it hold you back. Plenty of people check you out, you know,” Date says around his cigarette filter pinched in his teeth as he tucks the box away.
“I–” see the face of my brother in every mirror
“don’t–” want anyone but you
“there’s just–” the weight of knowing it was my fault
“well,” the wrong body the wrong mind wrong wrong wrong
“it’s–” physically painful wanting someone this bad
“ – complicated,” he settles, interrupting the stutter, watching the cigarette stuck to Date’s lower lip as he fumbles for a lighter. He feels too shaky on his feet to put thoughts in the right order.
“Doesn’t have to be. Let me come to your place.”
Date rings a cab and Ryuki thinks he must have hit his head, forgot his pills, started hearing things. There’s no way he just casually suggested it. There has to be a mistake.
They stand on the corner and watch the ongoing traffic, and Ryuki smells the tobacco smoke. He wishes he could appreciate it better. It should be pleasant but it does little for his queasiness.
Date coils an arm around his shoulder, thick and strong and heavy, and Ryuki almost buckles under it. He’s tense, nervous, so he looks up wild-eyed at the sudden embrace.
“Taxi is here, come on.”
He’s lead into the back of a strange car, followed by Date’s bulk.
He fumbles uselessly with his seatbelt, finding his hands sluggish and useless, for what feels like an age. The car doesn’t move.
Ryuki looks up to an expectant expression, and a particularly disgruntled face in the rear view mirror.
“...You need to tell the driver where you live.”
“Oh.”
They both laugh. He gives his address.
They’re sat so close together in the dark back of the cab. When a hand crawls across his thigh he jumps out of his skin. It should be reassuring. Date wants to touch him. Ryuki never gets motion sick but at this moment his stomach does flips for every bump in the road.
He can feel the heat radiating off the other man, the scent of his shampoo and cologne. He smells so good and maybe he tastes just as good?
Ryuki hiccups nervously. His heart pounds against his ribs. The ride only lasts a few seconds, it seems, as he’s very soon being tugged out of it again.
Date leads him again, an arm around his back and it may as well be a branding iron for how solid and warm it feels. He’s firm, strong, reassuring, and he’s been such a gentleman to bring Ryuki back safely. The eyepatch suits him too, weirdly, not like Ryuki’s misplaced bandage. Even shabbily dressed in a shirt in dire need of a pressing and jeans, he looks smart, handsome.
“You’re up top, right?”
He blinks, startled. They’re in front of the elevator.
“Yes,” he murmurs, stabbing the button for the penthouse and hoping Date won’t mention how expensive it is. It’s not really a luxury, living high up and isolated from everyone all alone… But explaining that will take mental energy he really doesn’t have spare while he’s this drunk.
The keys jitter in his hand but he’s able to unlock and get inside his apartment okay. Ryuki leans against the wall to nudge off his brogues, but Date’s by his side in an instant to offer him a steadying arm. Their shoes look good next to eachother, the size difference of them.
“I’ve got you.”
Date helps him out of his coat, too, and leads him to the couch. “Do you want a drink?”
He’s shaky, nauseous, still reeling from his last beer. But he doesn’t want to seem like a wet blanket. He nods shyly and gestures at the decanter on the coffee table.
“Damn, this thing is crystal,” Date observes with a whistle, pouring two glasses. He sniffs and sips at the brandy, and his eyebrows twitch. “Not bad, kouhai.”
“I’m not a virgin,” he blurts out rather than answering as he accepts his glass.
“Well hey, that’s good news.” He sips his liquor. Date doesn’t even laugh, which is promising. He’s too kind. “Do you know what you like?”
“Not really. It’s never gone too well.” Ryuki takes a tiny sip of his own drink, mirroring him, and it's a mistake. He feels so ill.
“Alright. No cheat codes. Got it,” he grins to himself, setting his glass on the coffee table.
He catches Ryuki’s chin and leads him into a kiss surprisingly firmly. His face is still cold from the outdoors, while Ryuki feels so warm and clammy he could be steaming. Their lips meeting starts a jolt that runs the whole way down his spine.
He lets the insistent tongue win, parting his lips for the kiss. Date tastes perfect, smokey and masculine. It’s not his first hook up, but he’s so nervous he’s trembling. He’s imagined this too many times, these hands on his jaw, his lap.
“Take it easy,” Date hums against Ryuki’s lips as they catch their breath. “I’m not going anywhere.”
He tries to. It’s not easy when his nervous system is so wired from months of anticipation leading to this exact moment, but his body feels sluggish and floaty in contrast. He’s fighting with his own steering.
This is all he’s wanted for most of a year and he’s ruining it, and he’s so frustrated he could scream. Date’s hand roams to the small of his back, pulling him a little closer.
“Ryuki,” he says, voice a little firmer. “Do you want to go to bed?”
He nods fiercely. It’s the most conviction he’s felt all night. More than anything does he want Date-san to take him to bed.
He’s not expecting arms to wrap around his thighs, scooping him up by the ass. Date lifts him easily and though he feels sturdy, Ryuki still shrieks, throwing his arms around the others’ neck for stability.
“Careful!!”
“Careful of what? You’re lighter than my kid,” he sniggers as he walks them through the hall, tapping Ryuki’s bedroom door open with his knee.
“Oh damn, is it fancy in here,” he mutters, looking around and then throws Ryuki at the mattress.
Ryuki catches himself before he screams again, and it’s hard not to grin in return when Date is laughing so much.
His senpai yanks his shirt off, exposing solid muscle and fluffy, flaxen belly hair.
“You should just lay back and let me mess you up,” he says. “Yell at me if I cross any lines.”
Ryuki nods immediately, without thinking about it at all. But there’s no way he could refuse such an offer, why would he ever?
Ryuki has lain on this exact mattress picturing this very moment, Date between his legs and heavy on top of him. The musk and salt smell of his cologne and skin. Golden hair spilling from its band around his shoulders.
He wishes he wasn’t so wasted, but maybe this was the price for this perfect cosmic alignment. Date seems to enjoy himself, even while Ryuki is too tipsy to do more than wiggle on his back.
His ear, neck, and collar are peppered with hot kisses and wet bites, as much skin as Date can reach getting tasted and suckled with such ferocity. Ryuki melts in his hands, he's moaning so loudly even though they've barely started.
He's wiggling out of his sweater and binder as he's pinned, and that questing tongue rasps along his armpit.
“Hey!” he giggles, but it feels better than he expects. He’s rewarded with a wordless slurp there, that mouth mapping out his body.
Date is a rough kisser and he’s even messier like this, licking Ryuki’s chest tacky and leaving wet bite marks every so often to make him squeak and rock his hips stupidly.
He’s forgotten to be dysphoric, he realises through the sea of sensation and excitement. Date’s been sucking and nibbling at his tits for a while, and Ryuki isn’t even upset. He’s appreciating the tongue bath, if anything, moaning louder than he can ever remember getting.
Ryuki has never been sure if he’s grateful to be pretty flat for gender’s sake or disappointed, because Date probably likes big ones.
“I haven’t had the surgery yet,” he says. “Is it okay?”
Date hums with a mouthful, squeezing them with both hands. A hard, teased nipple pops out of his mouth.
“No such thing as bad titties,” he says against Ryuki’s feverish skin.
A hand slips between his legs and finds where he’s leaking and hard, rubbing open palmed against his arousal. He’s usually not this sensitive, an unfortunate side effect of the medication, so it feeling like his skin is drenched in fire might be a positive sign. Ryuki can’t help but instinctively press back, hips magnetised to Date’s touch, but the older man laughs a little.
“I wanted to show you something, actually. While you’re so wound up.”
Ryuki’s grateful for the opportunity to catch his breath, nodding weakly. He’s embarrassed at how limp and breathless he is.
“Have you ever looked in your eye?” he asks. His face is sticky with his own drool, but he looks deadly serious.
“My eye?” Ryuki parrots stupidly, automatically.
“We have what Pewter calls a mini-port in there. Like a USB. It’s connected to everything.”
Date strokes Ryuki’s cheek, gaze fixed on his empty eyelid. “Where the girls plug in is essentially a little docking station,” he explains. Then he pauses, raises an eyebrow for intrigue, and continues, “but it’s sensitive.”
“I know mine is, anyway,” he hums, and presses the tip of his index finger into Ryuki’s eyesocket without hesitation.
Ryuki doesn’t actually hate it. He expects it to hurt, a sharp pain like the surgery did, but… It doesn’t. The feeling is bizarre, foreign, like a sinus headache but warm and Date is leering down at him. It balances out.
“It’s not so deep. It’s here .”
Date’s finger finds some kind of purchase, presses against something and Ryuki’s whole body shudders. He gasps. It feels like getting electrocuted. It’s strong enough to knock him out.
“Yeah, see? Weird, right?”
“I, I,” he pants, and he’s too scared to nod consent in case it disrupts the finger so close to his brain.
The probing finger wiggles, jolting him with more nervous interference, and he almost cries out. It’s good , in the same way being spanked feels good. His whole body rushes with it.
Date grins. “I’ll show you.”
He withdraws his finger to wet it with the tip of his tongue.
Ryuki braces himself, but the sensation of something wet swiping across that place makes him shiver so hard he almost gags.
“Oi oi, don't tap out. I just had an idea.”
He’s not sure if he can argue not while his whole body is overflowing like this, so he hums in vague agreement.
Date leans in, something dark twisting his mouth into a smile. As he leans in, breath ghosting along Ryuki’s cheek, Ryuki realises he’s holding his own breath.
The hot wet press of Date’s tongue may as well be licking Ryuki’s synapses directly for how it rattles through his body. It’s more intense than anything he can ever remember feeling. He can’t control the shrill whining or begging leaking out of his mouth, didn’t think it’d be so overwhelming having something so gross done to him.
“Date-san,” he manages to blurt out, “please–”
“Mm,” that voice rumbles through his skull, “more?”
It’s not what he wants at all, but he’s so wound up and overstimulated all he can manage is to gasp pathetically.
Date tongues his eye socket and Ryuki convulses, gibbering broken words, and he doesn’t know how long it goes on for.
He’s a mess when Date pulls back, battling coherency. He couldn’t string a sentence together or sit up, he’s pretty sure. His brain is melted. His whole body feels like warm wax.
Fingers press between his legs and he squeaks pathetically in surprise. He’s hard, and the questing touch seeks out his sensitivities too easily.
“You'll do whatever I want, won't you..?”
Ryuki nods stupidly. “It might take a while, I have problems with–”
Date’s face splits into that grin again. “Oh, I can go all night. Don’t worry about it.”
Ryuki doesn’t usually like fingers inside, especially not without any warm up, but they seem to slip right into him. Doesn’t even sting. He must be flooded. He quickly gets probed with another, and then another.
A firm, practised arch of Date’s fingers nudges against Ryuki’s inner walls, making him gasp out loud. He’s not usually so susceptive internally, it doesn’t usually–
A slick thumb casts across his throbbing clit and he’s not fast enough to fight back the yelp.
“Mm, that’s it,” Date drawls, finding a tempo in Ryuki’s insides that rattles pathetic, breathy little yelps out of him.
It feels as much like being tortured as having his brain port messed around with. He’s no match against Date. Date is a force of nature.
“You look cute like this, you know,” the blond tells him smugly, as he fucks Ryuki with three strong fingers, wringing his hardness mercilessly.
It’s usually around here that it starts to hurt. That he loses momentum. That his brain pills snatch the high of it away from him.
Ryuki’s used to broken, ruined or absent orgasms.
But for whatever reason, with Date-san’s hand inside him, none of that matters. There’s no aggravation, no sudden numbness or tightness. He just gets wetter and wetter, stupider and stupider. There’s no sense in trying to bite back the desperate noises escaping him anymore. He’s wasted .
“I really want to fuck that pretty mouth,” Date tells him, and the heavy weight to his voice is possessive, hungry, and it’s all he’s ever wanted to hear from his senpai. “Make a mess all over you.”
Ryuki hums and whines. He’s still worried about the prospect of his climax being taken away, failed by his own nervous system. He’ll play any role his partner desires to let this last. “Yes, Date-san, please.”
“...Well, are you going to thank me? For all this hard work I'm putting in?” Pointedly, he wrings some particularly wet noises from Ryuki’s sloppy hole.
It’s hard to do anything but keen uselessly. Date’s fingers ram into his insides mercilessly and the grip on his clit tightens.
And then tightens again, uncomfortably.
“Ah. Ah! Date-san. Yes,” he burbles through the cloud of needy, desperate fog. He’s too tongue-tied to manage much else.
“Yes?” Date asks, very politely, and lets go of the nub of Ryuki’s cock.
“Ah-”
“Anything else?” he muses, and then slaps hard, hard enough Ryuki’s eyes cross, and his thighs threaten to clench closed.
“Nnnnnn,” he gasps hungrily, trembling, legs held open by Date’s firm elbow. “Ahh, th- th-”
“Try in Japanese.” That large hand lands one more slap, across his clit, the impact and stinging air that follows leaving him breathless, teary eyed.
“Thank you!” Ryuki bleats out in a shaking voice. He can’t endure much more. “Thank you! Please!”
“Please?” That warm grip envelops him again, and it’s so overwhelming he–
“Not doing too well on the call and command, huh?” Date laughs, good naturedly, and slides a thumb around the base of Ryuki’s clit, drawing a fresh octave of wails from him.
No, I usually need– but it doesn’t leave his lips. Getting into his bedside table for the vibrator seems impossible, even though his hands are only balled uselessly in the sheets. He could grab it one-handed. But he can’t pass the message along his limbs, can’t make his brain work on anything other than bucking his hips against Date’s fingers.
Flat on his back, thrashing with effort, he can’t make words. He can only cry out wordlessly as his whole body tremors violently. All of his embarrassing fantasies about this happening never had this rushing urgency, this lava-hot pressure in his limbs, this syrupy weight on his chest making it hard to breathe. It’s not felt like this for as long as he can remember.
“You’ve needed a good screw for a while, huh?” he offers, and Ryuki nods gratefully, arching to squirm into the pressure wringing his clit.
He blinks his sweaty, bleary eyes open a little and peeks.
Date is grinning like the cat that got the cream, and when he meets Ryuki’s eyes it widens. “You can come, kid.”
Ryuki feels something shift inside his core, and then the world explodes into white light. All of the pressure, tension and anxiety he’d been holding to his body like a carapace, like an armour, like a shackle, falls away in pieces. Date digs in deep, squeezing out weakness and embarrassment, and a river of both runs down his wrist, splashes on his chest. All that’s left of Ryuki is quivering, exposed innards, wet with desire.
“I don’t know what took me so long,” his surgeon says, as Ryuki jitters pathetically. The roaring waves of his climax are starting to peter out. He was screaming while coming, and he might be crying now, and Date had thought about this?
“I– I–”
“You’re good. Breathe.” Date is wiping his hands on the bedding, and he still sounds pretty calm. Ryuki feels like he’s run a marathon, his chest aches so much from hyperventilating. “You want a drink?”
He nods. His legs are still tingling, and he doesn’t think he can move, but he could drink some water maybe.
“Wait here a sec.”
By the time Ryuki is sat up limply in bed, wincing at the spray of fluids across his bed, Date re-appears, holding a glass of liquor with ice.
Well.
It’s not water, but it’s close enough. He takes a sip, even though he’s never felt this high in his life. It’s been watered down, at least, so he can take a bigger gulp to wet his mouth a little. He hands it back.
“Thanks,” he mumbles, his speaking voice sounding alien after all the awful noises he’s been making. It’s a bit lame after nearly going blind from pleasure. “That was amazing, senpai, I–”
“Eh, don’t mention it,” the blond answers, but he’s thumbing along Ryuki’s bitten lower lip. Almost territorially, he presses, feeling the give and softness of it. “You’re gonna pay me back, right?”
Ryuki lets it push into his mouth, tongue wetting it for him, glancing up through his lashes.
Date is built, long hair skimming his shoulders, and how he looks down at Ryuki could toast marshmallows. He couldn't turn him down if he wanted to, and he can't think of a single reason he ever would.
Ryuki clambers to his knees at the edge of the bed, nuzzling into Date’s hand when the older man strokes his cheek.
“Good boy.”
This is the part that he’s done before, that he didn’t enjoy, but he’s sure like this for the man he admires so much- his good boy- it’ll be different, he’ll like it. He can do it. He’s trembling as he unfastens the fly of his pants, taking them down.
Wrapping his small, shaking hands around his senpai’s thick, impressive cock. The weight in his hands is enough to make his tummy flip. He pumps it carefully, transfixed by a shimmering droplet of fluid at the tip.
He needs to taste it.
Ryuki kisses his senpai’s cockhead, a little precariously, tongue tip darting out to gather what’s beading at the slit. The flavour overwhelms him a little- musky and salty, weighing heavy in his mouth, but the knowledge that this is his senpai sweetens it considerably.
He licks the head more thoroughly before taking it into his mouth. He’s inexperienced, and his hands are so petite he needs to use both at the base.
There must be a tell- a crease of his forehead or a tightening of his shoulders that gives away his uncertainty- as Date ruffles his hair, carding a hand along his scalp.
“Relax. That feels good , kid.”
Looking up at him like that, mouth full of his hot flesh, it’s impossible not to feel spurred on. Ignoring the discomfort, Ryuki spreads his mouth a little wider, letting as much as he can in, tonguing all he can reach.
Enthusiasm seems to count for a lot, because Date moans low in his chest, almost a purr, fingers tightening in the hair at Ryuki’s scalp.
Opening up for him, flattening his tongue along its underside, Ryuki’s never felt so shameless. It’s not as embarrassing as he expects, finding it easy enough to bob his head and suck. He doubts he could get Date-san mewling but having control over him like this- servicing him and pleasuring him- is so satisfying it’s well worth the bitterness that floods his mouth.
“You can take more than that,” Date says, the deep velvet rumbles of his voice setting Ryuki’s skin alight with gooseflesh. Of course he can. He can do anything for his senpai, anything to keep the heat building between his own legs.
He’s guided with a hand at his nape further down, his gag reflex screaming in protest. Ryuki can swallow back the extra saliva. He can’t fuck this up. Date likes this. Wants this from him.
He takes it to the back of his throat, obediently, even when a thumb presses alongside Date’s cock to spread his mouth further open.
“See, you’ll be a pro in no time,” Date assures him, and the praise settles across his cheeks and shoulders in a warm blush. Ryuki isn’t used to sweet talk. He must be doing something right.
The wet thumb retreats from his mouth and presses against his eyelid.
“Oi, Ryuki,” Date drawls as he pops it in, without any warning. It’s not so painful for being licked damp.
“Mmph?” Ryuki struggles to answer with his mouth full. It’s unusual but more than anything he wants to do well. He hopes he’s doing well. Please like me please want me
“You like that?” Date hums, tugging Ryuki down to swallow more back. It’s making his jaw hurt but idle swipes of that thumb send solar flares shooting through his brain, his head, his whole body.
He nods with a muffled agreement, trying to focus on what he’s sucking as his lips press to his fingers at the base, his nose so close to tufts of pubic hair.
“Are you even listening?”
Ryuki is yanked back by the scruff of his neck, broken mouth gasping wide open, suddenly empty. His chin is soaked with spittle. “Uh huh,” he slurs, but his answer feels tertiary.
Date’s gaze is fixed on where his thumb disappears into Ryuki’s skull, pressing into the hollow.
“Should be plenty wet enough. Sit still for me, okay?”
Ryuki can follow instructions, especially from someone he trusts so much, while he feels so scrambled and useless. He can’t nod, so he repeats himself.
“Uh huh.”
“I always wanted to try this,” Date whispers lowly, almost to himself, as he holds Ryuki’s eyelid open.
Ryuki knows what’s coming, but he can’t move away. Can’t argue. Can’t do anything but hold his breath and hope the lump in his throat won’t turn to tears.
Whatever he was doing for Date-san clearly wasn’t enough.
Ryuki’s senpai jams his fat, leaking cock into the gap where his eye should be.
That hurts. Hurts more than it should. Feels terrible, painful, like being stabbed, like swallowing hot coals, too much, and he knows he’s whimpering like a frightened dog.
Until the wet tip brushes against the microchip that sings beautiful chaotic music to his brain.
Date is some kind of genius, some sexual maniac.
Every system in Ryuki’s body overloads at once. He feels his jaw clenching and his thighs tightening and then he convulses, seizure-like. He’s soaked. Or he’s pissed himself. A full body orgasm. Or maybe its agony, maybe it feels like having all of his bones broken at once, every nerve overwhelmed with ice and fire. It’s impossible to know.
Date rumbles out a moan above, a deep laugh. “That’s it.”
Jerking himself one handed against the hollow of Ryuki’s skull, his thick cockhead pressed against the coupling, passing racing messages through his body.
It’s overwhelming, the pain or pleasure or satiation or humiliation or–
Ryuki knows he’s crying out some kind of noise, can feel himself trembling, his stupid damp face and broken throat.
It’s laughter. He’s screeching, gibbering, hysterical. “Date-san Date-san Date-san Date-san– ”
“If I’d known you’d go this easy I wouldn't have spiked your drink, man.”
Whatever that means. Ryuki is held still with a firm grip on his skull as his face is violated.
“Date-san,” he murmurs, as the syrupy world floats in and out of focus. He's twitching involuntarily, it hurts it hurts it hurts but it blocks out everything else so beautifully.
“Please,” leaves his mouth, and it’s more of a hiccup than speech.
“Just a little longer,” his senpai grits through his teeth.
“Date-sannnn–” he burbles, and maybe that was an orgasm, because coherent thought is not getting any easier. It’s much simpler to let it melt away. “Tell me I’m good.”
“You crazy little twink,” Date murmurs, shock or repulsion or surprise but he's looking right at Ryuki. “You like getting fucked in the head, huh?”
“I'll like it if you like it,” he parrots brainlessly, and it’s getting too disorienting to keep his eye open and watch Date thrust into his face so he lets it shut.
“You’re nice and tight like this,” Ryuki’s senpai pants with exertion. “Good boy.”
Ryuki melts. He’s wet enough down his thighs the sheets are soaked. Date thinks he's good, this feels good for him. He's useful, he's wanted, he's good. If Ryuki is propping up someone he loves he can withstand anything.
Even this.
“Yes,” he whines, “I'll be good, I'll be so good, Date-san, please– ”
“Please what, baby?”
“Fuck my eye pussy, please.” Whatever hole he needs, Ryuki will offer.
There’s weird, staccato laughter. “My precious little kouhai, you really are a mess.”
Fingers grip at his nape. “But it’d be my pleasure.”
Date drives in deep, deep enough Ryuki’s mini-port hurts like a bad piercing, fast enough the tsunami waves of sensation that wrack him overlap into a messy symphony of overstimulation.
He’s skull fucked hard and fast, and even over that cacophony of sensory crosschatter, it really does hurt. He’s yanked to and fro like an onahole and he can feel loose spittle and wet tears escaping.
Something inside snaps, and he can no longer respond. Ryuki finds himself simultaneously lost and trapped inside his own body.
This pulsing, disgusting, needing thing, this damp place that shivers and cries like a beast. This thing that begs for torment and salvation simultaneously. This one that knows such pleasure and such agony. It’s pushed to breaking point.
It lasts forever, or for a few moments. He doesn’t know. He has no way to know.
The head he lives in, swimming with stars and sobs, finally gets a moment's peace when there’s the wet gush of hot bodily fluids into his eye socket.
Date is purring appreciation, stroking his temple like he’s a well trained dog but it’s not enough to calm him down. The hole in his head is empty now, dribbling come, and it aches .
Ryuki collapses onto the mattress but there’s no way to catch his breath, his heart pounding like he’s running a marathon, shoulders still wracked with spasms of nervous overload.
Date fusses over his face, dabbing with a damp washcloth, but Ryuki is checked out. He can’t enjoy it. His body is a silent prison. He can barely lift his arms.
“There’s no blood, and the chip is where it should be. I think it’s okay.”
“It’s okay,” Ryuki parrots hollowly.
“...You want me to get out of your hair? I can stay here if you want.” Date is re-dressing, but casually.
Ryuki can’t answer. He stares. He wants to be alone, but all he can do is stare.
“I’m gonna get your assistant and some clean clothes, alright? You need to change and she’ll give you your meds.”
Ryuki nods as stuff is placed on his lap.
He stares at the folded white cotton and the little sphere.
“Okay,” he chants again, in case it’s a magic spell that will make the other man leave.
It works.
Ryuki sits like that until his alarm goes off, and the eyeball wakes up on her own.