
Posted originally on the Archive_of_Our_Own at https://archiveofourown.org/
works/7232236.
  Rating:
      Explicit
  Archive Warning:
      Rape/Non-Con, Underage
  Category:
      M/M
  Fandom:
      僕だけがいない街_|_ERASED
  Relationship:
      Fujinuma_Satoru/Yashiro_Gaku
  Character:
      Fujinuma_Satoru, Yashiro_Gaku
  Additional Tags:
      Oral_Sex, Anal_Fingering, Satoru_is_still_in_a_coma, Yandere_thinking,
      Mentions_of_underage_non-con
  Stats:
      Published: 2016-06-18 Words: 2304
****** Giving Way ******
by kimagurekoi
Summary
     If only Satoru was awake when Yashiro had his fun...
Notes
     It's really weird writing stuff of this nature when half of the party
     is practically dead........
     There's a very brief description of murder/blood at the beginning so
     try to skip over that if you're squeamish...! Sorry ;;
See the end of the work for more notes
Yashiro loved visiting Spice.
Those hours spent in that hospital room, curtains drawn, machines beeping
steadily, watching the boy’s chest rising and falling provided Yashiro a
beautiful reprieve from the outside world. In the room, it was him and Satoru.
It was him and his  Spice  to take care of. Every time the man slid the shaving
razor over Satoru’s face filled him with a burning giddiness; it bubbled in his
gut in a perverse way as he watched the blade glide over Satoru’s jawline, his
chin, just barely brushing his lips at times.
Yashiro knew he could kill Satoru any time he wished. The idea thrilled him. He
considered doing it too; sliding that blade across the boy’s jugular, his hand
firm and pressure deep. His mind would buzz as he imagined the feeling of the
flesh giving way before the blade, the sensation of slicing through the skin
and feeling the veins breaking open as the red  flowed  onto the sterile
hospital bedding. With enough planning, Yashiro could get away with it so
easily.
But he didn’t. Yashiro knew deep down that he needed the boy. Even when Satoru
grew into a man, Yashiro knew he could never lose him. He needed Satoru; Satoru
was  his  to keep, to watch, to kill if need be,  to love.
Satoru was special. After years of visiting his comatose student, Yashiro’s
desire to kill turned into a desire to possess and own the boy. The rush he got
from the blade became less fulfilling than the rush he got from imagining
Satoru squirming, fighting back against Yashiro’s advances. His hand would
wander into Satoru’s pants, the other holding his hands above his head. Satoru
would scream, kick, to try to escape and deny Yashiro what was  his . There
would be nobody to whisk him away though. It would be them, just them, as
Yashiro took his mind and body. Satoru was his, and his only.
But Yashiro knew that wasn’t possible. Satoru was practically dead to the
world. There would be no defiance in his eyes, no gritting of his teeth as he
tried to hold back wanton moans, there would be no guaranteed privacy-- not for
long, at least.
For what little time he had, Yashiro made do. He couldn’t help it. To see
Satoru so defenseless riled him up; even without the fight, he wanted to
manipulate and mold that comatose body to only accept Yashiro’s. He wanted
Satoru’s body to react to only his fingers, to only feel satisfied when
Yashiro  filled him. Yashiro couldn’t leave the him alone.
March 2nd; Satoru was 18. It was the last hour for visitors to come. Sachiko
and all of Satoru’s friends had already visited him. Yashiro stood over the
comatose body, a small smile painting his lips. Nobody would come for the next
hour. He and Satoru had time to be  together .
Long fingers ghosted over Satoru’s face feeling the clean shaven skin. A
predatory glint sparked deep within Yashiro’s eyes as he rubbed his thumb
against Satoru’s lips. Soft, so soft; Satoru’s skin was soft and smooth thanks
to Sachiko’s constant care. His hand moved to cup Satoru’s cheek as he leaned
down. His lips met Satoru’s and without hesitating, he pushed his tongue into
the unresponsive mouth. It tasted of medicine and the stillness made the kiss
feel void of any life at all. He swept his tongue over Satoru’s teeth, feeling
the ridges before gripping the boy’s jaw to part them. Yashiro’s tongue mingled
with the unresponsive one briefly before retreating. Kissing wasn’t really that
fulfilling when the other person was practically dead. There were other things
for that mouth to be doing.
Yashiro quirked an eyebrow at the idea. He would have time to do something like
that, definitely.
He glanced back at the door before placing both hands on Satoru’s neck,
squeezing firmly but not tightly. He stopped after a few seconds; there was no
response from the boy but Yashiro just liked the feeling of choking him and the
fantasies that went with it. The image of his hands on Satoru’s throat, the boy
clawing at him to  let go  as Yashiro fucked him sent shots of electricity
through his veins.
After a few moments,Yashiro let his hands wander down to Satoru’s chest,
pushing apart the hospital robe and exposing clear skin to the air. He rubbed
his thumbs against Satoru’s nipples, his other fingers digging into delicate
skin. Yashiro was always careful to not leave bruises, no matter how badly he
wanted to. His right hand left the hardened nipple to slip down to the boy’s
navel, the blanket covering his body slipping down to reveal more of the
unconscious body beneath him. He felt Satoru’s stomach flutter under his
fingertips as they ghosted over smooth skin. As Yashiro pressed into the soft
flesh under his belly button, a dark smile ghost over his face; the boy had no
muscle at all-- he was still as soft as a small child.
Yashiro looked at Satoru’s face. His expression was virtually the same: blank
and serene, as if nothing was happening to him at the moment. The only
differences from the usual was the faint blush covering his cheeks and the
slight increase in pace of his breathing.
The hand on satoru’s stomach wandered farther south. The body under him
shuddered slightly as teeth nipped at the sensitive bud. His roaming hand met
fabric clinging to skin and Yashiro smirked as he palmed the growing erection
through Satoru’s underwear.
Yashiro wished that he could hear the moans that would have been spilling from
his beloved’s lips if he was awake. He wanted to see Satoru fighting the
pleasure, gritting his teeth to suppress any noise that might escape him, his
eyes glazed with hatred and fight and  pleasure  he didn’t want. Yashiro wanted
to hear the weak “stop”s and “no”s that Satoru would force out in between the
hisses of ecstasy before giving in and pleading for “more! Please!”. He wanted
to see that body flushed and wet with sweat, bangs sticking to the boy’s face,
his neck craning and toes curling because  he isn’t used to being touched .
Yashiro wanted that to be for him, just for him.
But for now he settled. He withdrew his hands from Satoru’s body and pulled the
sheets down to his knees before pulling the boy’s underwear down to his ankles.
With a steady hand, Yashiro grinned as he ran a finger up Satoru’s erection.
Pressing his thumb against the slit, he heard a small noise escape Satoru’s
lips. Yashiro glanced up at his face, taking in that it was the same as before,
before proceeding with his ministrations. He dug his fingertip into the slit a
little before withdrawing his hand.
Yashiro quietly slipped his shoes off, placing them at the side of the hospital
bed before sitting in between Satoru’s legs. He grabbed the boy’s knees and
pushed them up, laying his feet flat against the bed. Despite his fantasies of
a very much alive Satoru, the fact that the boy was so defenseless to his
ministrations was still such a turn on for him.
Yashiro reached into a pocket in his pants and pulled out a small clear bottle.
He carefully popped the cap open and poured the lukewarm lube onto his fingers
liberally. Yashiro closed the bottle and slid it back into his pocket before
placing his clean hand on one of Satoru’s knees. He reached down and slowly
pushed the first finger inside his love. There wasn’t much resistance; the body
of a coma victim wouldn’t tense up in anticipation (or hatred too, perhaps).
Yashiro moved his finger around for a moment before slightly withdrawing his
hand and adding in a second one. He heard Satoru’s breath hitch slightly and
Yashiro softly chuckled to himself.
Yashiro made a few scissoring motions with his fingers before beginning to
shallowly thrust them in and out of the tantalizing heat. For being borderline
dead, Yashiro was always fascinated with how  warm  Satoru was. Yashiro
wondered if he was practically a necrophiliac at this point.
Yashiro’s gaze shot up from his administrations when he heard a low groan from
the back of Satoru’s throat. It wasn’t unusual for him to make a noise once in
awhile during these sessions since the boy could breathe on his own. Yashiro
felt himself smirking as he began to continuously rub the bundle of nerves he
found. He could see the glistening of sweat and a rush of red painting Satoru’s
face as his sweet spot was continuously touched. Yashiro imagined the intense
pleasure that would have been painted on the boy’s face if he were awake. He
wondered if he could force Satoru to an orgasm just by ramming into his
prostate, over and over and over…
“Nghh…!”
Ah.
Yashiro quirked an eyebrow at the white substance on Satoru’s stomach. That
partially answered his question-- that the boy could get off like this when in
a coma. Satoru came too quickly, Yashiro thought. Perhaps the boy was more
sensitive there than usual.
Carefully balancing his weight, Yashiro leaned over to the table next to the
bed. It was littered with small vases of flowers from Satoru’s friends and
family. By the edge, just within Yashiro’s reach, was a small packet of tissues
he had brought for this occasion. He nabbed a few and settled back between the
boy’s legs before quickly wiping up the mess on his stomach and tossing the
sullied wad of tissues back onto the table.
The ache between Yashiro’s legs was beginning to become unbarable. He shifted,
somewhat uncomfortable in the confines of his pants.
“Well, Satoru,” he chided softly, his voice sultry and low with lust. “What
should I do about this?”
Satoru didn’t respond. Yashiro grinned anyways. He moved swiftly, pushing
Satoru’s legs back down. Yashiro settled above Satoru, his knees on either side
of his arms and chest so that he was somewhat straddling him. He reached down
and undid his belt hastily before pushing aside offending clothing and pulling
out his erection. Yashiro reached down and pulled Satoru’s head forward with
one hand. Using his other hand to grip the boy’s jaw, he forced his mouth open.
Yashiro stifled a chuckle as he snaked both hands to the back of Satoru’s head,
his fingers tangling with silky black hair. He moved his hips slightly forward,
feeling a spark in his gut as the tip of his dick touched Satoru’s lips. He
felt the faint warmth of breath ghosting open his skin and he relished in the
idea that one day, maybe, Satoru would be awake when Yashiro did this to him.
Biting his lip, Yashiro thrust in as he pulled Satoru’s head forward, groaning
as the heat surrounded his flesh. He imagine Satoru gagging as he was forced to
take in all of Yashiro’s dick, his tongue struggling to push the offending
flesh out of his mouth but not daring to bite because  Satoru knew  the
repercussions of that.
Yashiro began to shallowly thrust, never moving too far out because he couldn’t
resist the heat of his comatose former student. The sensation of Satoru’s
cheeks hollowing slightly as Yashiro pulled back and the feeling of hitting the
back of his throat as he thrust in was tantalizingly immense. He wanted to see
Satoru’s eyes glaring up at him, flinching when Yashiro pulled his head forward
a little too much. He could see Satoru fighting against the restraints that
kept his hands from pushing Yashiro away. His body tense as Yashiro fucked his
defiant mouth. Yashiro would make sure to thrust a little too deep, pull a
little too hard; he would make sure Satoru knew he belonged to Yashiro and
Yashiro only, no matter how much the boy hated it.
Yashiro felt a moan slipped past his lips as he felt a familiar warmth pool in
his stomach. He was slightly disappointed that he wasn’t going to last a little
longer, but he figured time was of the essence at that point. With a quick
motion, he pulled Satoru’s head forward as he came, relishing in the bliss that
overwhelmed his system. He waited, staying still inside the boy’s warmth as he
milked out his orgasm. Yashiro felt one of his knees spasm slightly as he
pulled out. He hovered over Satoru for a minute in a daze before taking a deep
breath to calm himself.
Untangling his fingers from his beloved’s hair, Yashiro quickly tucked himself
back into his pants and redid his belt buckle. He peered down at Satoru and
wiped off a bit of cum on his lip with his thumb before pushing it into
Satoru’s open mouth. Gently, he wiped the pad of his thumb against the boy’s
tongue before withdrawing his hand and closing his mouth.
With calm in his movements and satisfaction in his eyes, Yashiro removed
himself from the hospital bed and proceed to put Satoru back together. With his
clothes securely back on and the bed sheets tucked in, the room looked as if
the events that had just unfolded had never happened. Yashiro nabbed the packet
of tissues still on the table and tucked it back into his pocket before tossing
the discarded wad of tissues into the room’s wastebasket, throwing in a few
dying flowers to cover it.
Yashiro walked back over to Satoru’s body. The boy looked untouched other than
the fading flush on his cheeks. Yashiro leaned down and stole a chaste kiss
from his Spice, running his fingers down the boy’s face before turning to
leave.
As Yashiro exited the room, he nodded and smiled at the nurse about the enter,
already planning when his next visit would be.
End Notes
     This is really a guilty ship of mine... I can't help but indulge in
     it （/｡＼)
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